#I might die finishing it but that is a sacrifice i am willing to make

[everyones-least-favorite-bard]

this is just a collection of highlights from my last Goofy Presentation Night in which i discussed (read: forced my audience to listen to) orv/yhk thoughts for two hundred and ten minutes

ill add more and rb/tag accordingly n stuff later bc its a lot of words to post and i am one very eepy boy

ON DOKSOO

In 1973, Ursula LeGuin wrote the short story The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, which, if you’ve been around the English side of ORV fandom for long enough, might recognize due to jomeimei, our yhk scholar’s writings. If you don’t know it, the basic premise of the work is that there exists in some far-flung imagined world, a utopia called Omelas that is perfect in every way, save for the fact that its perfection is maintained via the constant suffering of a small child. (One can surmise from the title of course, that there are those who upon learning this, choose to leave the city and live elsewhere.)

One of the ways this intersects with ORV comes in the Epilogues and what happened to the Avatar of Han Sooyoung living in the 1863rd round. The Han Sooyoung of that round, if you recall, found post-suicide attempt Kim Dokja in the “real” world while looking for the author of Three Ways. Judging by her reactions, we see she has two epiphanies:

EPIPHANY ONE: There was no tls123. It was nearing the end of the year that Three Ways was published (in her and Kim Dokja’s memories), but the novel had not been published yet. The only people with knowledge of the original Three Ways timeline in the world were herself and the Dokkaebi King. If she didn't do anything, if she simply sat back and let the year finish out, she could leave WOS as an unpleasant memory and nothing more. She could save the world.

EPIPHANY TWO: Kim "Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World saved my life" Dokja would not survive without that story.

She is faced with the same dilemma those who left Omelas were faced with: does she condemn the world to save this child, or does she save the world but condemn this child?

Let's leave that thought to simmer for a while.

Now the moral quandary that she’s dealing with is similar in structure to the Trolley Problem. (Which, if the reader of this has been living blissfully unexposed to 20th century philosophy and 21st century bastardizations of such, is a moral thought experiment in which a tram is headed down a track towards five people, with a lever allowing one to switch the tracks placed before the subject. However, the second track has one person on it who will also surely die from a direct hit by the trolley. Does the subject choose action or inaction?)

And this decision, which, according to other iterations of the Trolley Problem (in which the one person is someone the subject knows and cares about) is still not even in line with those theories or justifications.

ORV is utterly rife with these sort of fun moral messes. There are countless moments in which characters are faced with needs-of-the-many versus needs-of-the-few. Kim Dokja, for one, is perhaps most memorable for these given his propensity for (continuing with the Trolley Problem metaphor) throwing himself onto the track before the tram can reach the fork.

The events of the 1863rd round (and its aftereffects) are the most direct parallel of the experiment. 

As has been established, Han Sooyoung of the 1863rd round only knew Kim Dokja for a week, if even that, and yet she is fully willing to burn the world to make sure a life in which he might be happy is given to him. This decision is even further warped when we consider that the moment of her epiphany(s) is not the first time this Han Sooyoung was faced with the Trolley Problem.

We know that (based on the conversations she has with Kim Dokja) in the 1863rd round, Han Sooyoung was operating in a utilitarian space in order to seamlessly complete the scenarios. She chose to sacrifice Yoo Joonghyuk and put him in the position of a “villain” (thereby making him spiritually “dead” to all his loved ones and peers) in order to make sure she made a perfect run. And arguably she did–upon arriving in the 1863rd round Kim Dokja (loathe though he is to admit it) cannot find fault with how she has completed the scenarios thus far, and is even (if I remember correctly) somewhat jealous of her for being able to orchestrate such a clean run.

But instead of working with her to finish her run, to draw the period marking the end of the story she’s made, Kim Dokja’s desire to save Yoo Joonghyuk outweighs his desire to save the world, and he steps in and tears it into a comma. (Yes, I’m deliberately referencing the epilogues. No, I haven’t stopped thinking about the fucking period/comma scene. Don’t talk to me.) He switches the lever back to the track with five people because he refuses to sit back and allow the one man to die.

Now, based on what we see of Han Sooyoung in this round and her immediate reaction to Kim Dokja’s dickery, she would have continued operating in her ends-justify-the-means space. She obviously does to some extent as she reaches the end of the scenarios and wrangles the Dokkaebi King into granting her a wish. Upon arriving in the “real” world she is fully prepared to kill tls123 and save the world. But she doesn’t, she has the key to saving the world in her hands, she could so very easily keep Yoo Joonghyuk from suffering a thousand lives, she could save billions of people and live a wildly successful life as a famous webnovel author but! She! Doesn’t!

Why?

Imagine for a moment, if you will, sitting in a hospital room across from a fifteen year-old boy, sleeping or unconscious, fresh from a suicide attempt. Imagine for a moment, if you will, having met this fifteen year-old boy in another life when he was no longer quite so small or physically close to death, but was equally (if not more) close to it in spirit. Imagine for a moment, if you will, knowing the exact thing that will keep this boy if not happy, then at least surviving, for long enough that you might meet him again. Imagine for a moment, if you will, knowing that withholding that thing is certain death for this boy.

How could she condemn him then? How could she, after knowing the depth with which he will love and will fight to save those he wants to save, leave him here to die, alone?

We see therefore, that as a result of her interaction with Kim Dokja, that she is fundamentally changed in her worldview: she is no longer utilitarianally or unilaterally doling out unambiguous justice, sacrificing Yoo Joonghyuk for the world, but rather sacrificing the world now for Kim Dokja. 

It is by this that we know that written into the very condemnation of the world that Kim Dokja uses to justify his consistent self-flagellation is a story of love. Han Sooyoung does not walk away from Omelas--no, she reaches in and says to that lonely, suffering child, I will save you. I will love you as you are. The three ways to survive in a ruined world have always, always been love.

#heaaaagshhahahaha woooo raaaa #i want u all to know there were shitty graphics that went with this #like badly edited twt ms paint reaction images #superimposed on like #official blackbox art #man. head in my fucking hands #orv sure is the novel ever #orv #omniscient reader #omniscient readers viewpoint #yhk #yoohankim #kim dokja #kdj #han sooyoung #hsy #yoo joonghyuk #yjh #orv spoilers #hghghghggjghgjh there is still so much to add to this istg #maybe ill add it. tomorrow. later today. whatever #im eepy guys #orv meta

[scoobydoodean]

Adding onto the "John’s emotional outpourings" thought train:

I think it’s so interesting that in his final speech to Dean, not only does he applaud Dean for assuming the parentified and spousified role that he himself forced on him ("You took care of Sammy and you took care of me"), he also specifically praises Dean’s obedience and lack of self-advocacy in the matter ("You did that, and you didn't complain. Not once.")

Hearing John acknowledge everything Dean’s sacrificed for their family no doubt meant a lot to him, but I actually think it was very detrimental to his self-worth in the long run. It further cements the idea that Dean’s value is intrinsically tied to how useful he is to others, to how much shit he’s willing to take from loved ones without a word of protest, and to how much of himself he can give away. By the end of the season se see this idea culminate in him selling his soul ("At least this way, it’s like my life could mean something."), which is really just the natural extension of how his life and his body have always been treated as bargaining chips.

This is an interesting interpretation, Anon—not one I aim to take issue with, but since it's in my inbox, I'll share where my interpretation differs. It might be more in the sense of John's intentions.

I think there's a reason John opens with and mainly gives an apology—for being an empty shell—for Dean having to fill his shoes—and the majority of his speech being an apology and given within the context that John himself failed and that Dean had to fill his shoes biases me against interpreting the closing lines where he praises Dean's actions as him meaning to say that's where Dean's inherent worth lies.

JOHN You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say "It's okay, Dad" Dean, I'm sorry. DEAN What? JOHN You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should have been saying that to you. You know, I put, I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast.

To me, John is saying the opposite of that Dean's worth lies in being the eternal care taker. It's him saying that Dean deserved to be protected and cherished and comforted, and John utterly failed, and instead Dean had to pick up his slack—carry his dead weight—and that wasn't fair. He finishes with,

You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you.

I take this not as John necessarily praising that Dean didn't complain? I take it as an acknowledgment that Dean is an actual person. The same way John knew Dean wanted a home despite Dean insisting differently to us and Sam in various season 1 episodes, John understands that what Dean does and what Dean feels are different things. Dean is not the mindless John robot Sam framed Dean as in 1.10. There's a reason Dr. Ellicot wanted to make Dean better in 1.10 and tried to ghost-lobotomize him (because Dean was angry—because he resented his family [1.06]) but there's also a reason Dean was able to resist his ghost-lobotomy long enough to burn Ellicot's bones.

In regards to being proud of Dean—I mentioned that I think John focuses on this because he saw what tipped Dean off that he was possessed by Azazel in 1.22. But supplying further context here—1.21-1.22 are about Sam and John both fighting to be the first one to die for revenge... and being willing to sacrifice each other. In 1.22, as they are about to enter the building where John is located, Sam insists that Dean not bring The Colt with them. He doesn't want to waste a bullet for John. Sam insists this is what John would want, and Dean says he doesn't give a damn what John wants. Dean sneaks the gun in anyway, and kills a demon who's beating Sam to death with it. That's what leads to the conversation about the the wasted bullet with Azazel!John.

Dean: You’re not mad? John: For what? Dean: Using a bullet. John: Mad? I’m proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you – you watch out for this family. You always have.

It's chilling that Azazel is the one to praise Dean, isn't it? And it's further chilling that that's what tips Dean off that this is not his dad.

Dean knows this isn't John specifically because John would not appreciate what Dean did for their family this whole episode—what Dean has always done in fact: keep their family afloat and keep them all alive while John was busy being stuck in his own head, burning with rage and vengeance... and even throwing blame at Dean. Dean got yelled at by Sam before he brought the gun in for wanting to prioritize John's safety over revenge, and Dean was ready to get yelled at by John too for prioritizing Sam over revenge. John would be too blinded by vengeance to notice or even give a damn that Dean saved Sam's life. John would tear Dean a new one for being the only rational person in the room—the only person who hasn't been swallowed whole by bloodlust to the point of not giving a damn about the rest of the family... and in a less extreme sense, this is how it has always been. Dean has always been unappreciated. So John shows a little goddamn appreciation for the fact that Dean kept them afloat— for the first time ever. Then pointedly—John's last act is to finally prioritize Dean's safety specifically over his revenge. He abandons the revenge quest that just one episode meant more than Dean or Sam's lives, and hands The Colt over to his mortal enemy to save his son. He chooses love for Dean over vengeance.

What sullies John's speech—what poisons it for Dean—is what John does right after. And this is what I meant about John "poisoning the well". John apologizes for putting everything on Dean's shoulders right before... leaving Dean with the bag for the rest of eternity. It isn't like John's going on vacation—he's going to Hell. But he still permanently makes Sam Dean's responsibility. He doesn't even tell Sam what's going on—he treats Sam like a child and makes Dean his permanent guardian, permanently foisting his parental obligations on his parentified son right after apologizing for allowing him to become parentified, and that ruins John's speech.

I think Dean selling his soul has several interconnected motivations, and absolutely—a gigantic one is Dean's parentification and the belief that he is disposable. Dean feeling disposable and like sacrificing for his family is all he's good for was never going to be solved by one conversation, but John's one conversation is also ruined, and arguably just makes Dean more resentful because John pushes at this scabbed over wound for Dean, making it raw, and instead of wrapping a bandage around it, he ultimately pushes his thumb in. However, also leading into Dean's demon deal is 1) Dean loves his brother. 2) Dean being made to feel responsible for Sam specifically for his entire life 3) Dean's believes he came back wrong and him being alive is unnatural (it's left a hole in his chest—he feels unbalanced—angry—off—almost monstrous) and sacrificing himself will restore the natural order and help him escape this looming monstrosity. 4) Dean is trying to escape John and Sam's expectations and demands—that he fulfill John's dying wish and make himself responsible for Sam by saving or killing him. In a disturbing way, it's how Dean is liberated.

By making the demon deal, Dean has fulfilled "saving Sam" through an very unintended loophole, and avoided "kill Sam"—a mandate Dean was perpetually haunted by all of season 2—that Sam was determined to enforce at every opportunity while knowing it was what made Dean want to die! Being responsible for the whole rest of Sam's life makes Dean tired—it's why he says he can't handle the weight on his shoulders—he can't handle the pressure and the expectations that he chain himself to Sam's destiny for eternity. He's tired. He just wants to escape... and he initially sees his demon deal as a light at the end of the tunnel—as a way to get away. It makes him feel good for the first time in a long time (3.01)... because he is freed of the burden of his family's expectations and demands. When Dean starts to explore why he doesn't care that he's dying... that's where he confronts his parentification and objectification.

#mail #season 2 #2.01 #1.22 #3.01 #john #i dont deserve what he put on me #parentification #dont objectify me!

[mannylikessims]

The True Story of the Villareal Family [1.3]

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There is a secret campsite on the far end of the Von Haunt Estate, and this was where Jacques and his children were supposed to meet to discuss their Definitely-Not-Criminal Plans.

Jacques was grilling hot dogs. He didn’t want his children to starve – not yet, anyway, not before their work was finished.

But he really did worry about his children. “Offspring, it is time to focus,” he said.

Luna, however, wouldn’t stop texting someone on her phone. And he had found poor Hugo lost and wandering aimlessly in a hedge maze. This was why he didn’t want kids. They were idiots.

Hugo and Luna joined him obediently at the picnic table, chowing down on hot dogs, Hugo’s bonfire crackling next to them.

It was time to talk business.

“All right, offspring. Family Fun Day starts now. By the morning, the Von Haunt Estate will be reduced to ashes.”

“Why are we burning this place down again?” asked Hugo.

“I’m an insurance salesman,” said Jacques. “Do you have any idea how much insurance sales increase when there’s been a high-profile fire? Incinerating this cherished tourist destination will make customers flock to my MLM insurance company!”

“Wait, I thought you were in the criminal career?” said Hugo.

“Yes, that’s what I just said,” Jacques responded, annoyed.

“So, this’ll be just like our last Family Fun Day?” groaned Luna. “Because I’m still haunted by the moment we realized Mom was trapped inside the building you made us set on fire. You said the building was empty.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Hugo agreed. “Dad, that was a really traumatic childhood experience and it will negatively affect us for the rest of our lives.”

Jacques rolled his eyes. Why did his children have to be so whiny about things like family members dying?

“Hey, accidents happen in my line of work, but it’s all for a good cause: money. Now, some of you may die, but that’s a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

“Dad, I don’t feel good about burning down this cherished tourist destination. It seems unethical.”

Jacques exhaled sharply. These kids just would not stop with the self-righteousness.

He decided that if one of them happened to get caught in the fire tonight – or, Watcher willing, both – it would be a gift from the heavens. He’d never thought about doing to his children what he’d done to his wife, but… well, now he had.

“We won’t drag Max into this, right?” said Luna, worried. “He’s just a kid. Where is he, anyway?”

───────────────✦───────────────

Even though it was after-hours, Max was in the dining room of the Von Haunt Estate.

He had gone back to see the portrait of Lord Bernard, his #1 enemy, somehow managing to slip under the velvet ropes to get closer.

Bernard’s portrait hung above him, but if he climbed onto the end table, he could reach it. Then he could pull it off the wall and drag it into the fireplace.

It was too big to fit into the fireplace, but Max bet the portrait would still get ruined.

And, if he got extra lucky, the painting might go up in flames and spread the fire to the rest of the estate. Now that would be gravy.

Max grinned. Burning the portrait of his arch nemesis and watching his estate burn to the ground would be So. Much. Fun.

───────────────✦───────────────

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#thesims4 #simlit #sims4 #windenburg #luna villareal #villareal #get together #the true story of the villareal family #hugo villareal #jacques villareal #max villareal #ts4 #the sims 4 #Von Haunt Estate #sims story #ts4 story #tTSotVF

[heartofspells]

Even if Sirius was probably a bit cruel to Peter and lacked patience at times, he still spent time with him during school and trusted Peter enough to put James, Lily, and Harry’s life in Peter’s hands. James was his best friend, Sirius went to James’s house when he left home, Sirius was godfather to James’s son, James was one of Sirius’s favorite people and vice versa; and Sirius trusted Peter so much that he put the lives of three people Sirius loved enough to die for in Peter’s hands. Sirius knew the Death Eaters would be gunning for him to get to the Potters, Sirius knew he’d become a major target the second that prophecy was made and James and Lily had to go into hiding, and he trusted Peter enough to go “I am willing to be bait, to let myself be tortured and likely brutally murdered, so you can keep them alive. If I go missing or get captured, you’ll know Voldemort is zeroing in, I can buy all of you time with my life.” Sirius was willing to die in order to ensure his friends would live, and he trusted Peter to keep the Potters safe; we know Sirius distrusted Remus by this point, but he trusted Peter to keep James alive, and he trusted Peter enough that Sirius was willing to die so that Peter could keep James alive after his death. Even if it’s mostly because Sirius thought it was a great bluff, Sirius still was willing to die and leave the Potters’ lives in Peter’s hands so there was a great deal of trust in Peter

Every time I think about this, it honestly just wrecks me. Sirius was such a loyal friend. He loved his found family so much, and that was clear in every single one of his actions and words. Even once they were mostly gone, he still loved them so fiercely and did everything possible to uphold his promises, no matter how much he was constantly thwarted at every turn.

Sirius' entire story from start to finish is just heartbreaking, and a large piece of that rests solely on Peter. Of course he trusted Peter. He was one of Sirius' best friends, regardless of how he might have viewed his mind or work ethic at times, or whatever judgements Sirius might have found in the other. As far as we know, Peter was there from the beginning. He slept in the bed next to the others. He traversed the castle with them, aided them in making the map (you can't tell me they didn't make use of Wormtail for that). HE BECAME AN ANIMAGUS WITH THEM. If they didn't like or trust him, why would they have ever included him in something so great and illegal?

Sirius and James and Remus trusted Peter enough to not only tell him of their plans, but had enough faith in his ability to master the transformation at all. That's a nightmarish process from what we've learned, especially for teenagers with no help. Remus trusted Peter to keep his secret, and as far as we know, he did. He never betrayed that, which also leads me to believe that he valued Remus more than the other two in some ways.

And as you said, there's no way such a massive thing like protecting the lives of three people would have been put in his hands if he wasn't inherently important to them. James wouldn't have entrusted the lives of his wife and son to him, and Sirius certainly wouldn't have handed them over so easily, come up with the idea himself, if he'd had even the slightest hint of uncertainty. James, Lily, and Harry were everything to him. They were his life. He loved them with everything he had, and he purposefully gave them to Peter to protect them as much as he possibly could because he was willing to sacrifice himself to keep them breathing.

Peter's betrayal, whatever the reasoning behind it, must have permanently knocked the air from Sirius' lungs. I can't even imagine the thoughts in his head, the shattering blame he must have felt when he understood what had happened. Everything that had ever meant something to him had been ripped away. He lost his real family for whatever reasons you want to believe. He lost his brother. He lost Remus to distrust. And then he lost the only things he had left, James and Lily dead, Hagrid refusing to give him Harry.

At the end of it all, he only had Peter. And as he stood there in front of that destroyed cottage while Hagrid flew away with Harry on his own bike, as it all settled over him, that realization of everything that had turned so wrong as none of them noticed, the knowledge that he'd made that fatal mistake himself, Sirius lost that one last tie holding everything together.

He trusted Peter to keep them safe. James had trusted them both, and now he was dead. The devastation and rage of that weight must have been unbearable for Sirius.

#another topic i could write sweeping towering essays about #sirius black #peter pettigrew #the potters #marauders #first war #secret keeper #betrayal #faulty trust #sirius my poor baby #there are numerous heartbreaking things about hp but i think this will always be the worst for me #anon asks #ask #answer #lovely anons

[aaronsmith94]

@h4ngm4n I saw that post and ran with it. Have some AU Hangster.

“You can let go now; I’m fine I know you have other patients,” 

The sentence from Bradley Bradshaw makes Jake sigh as he focuses on the computer in front of him, the thought of lashing out is present, but Jake remembers he is trying to be the bigger person. 

“Bradley, I had to intubate you in the field,” Jake says without looking away from the computer he is charting on, 

“You were unconscious and not breathing; let me state that for you again, Dr. Bradshaw. You were not breathing!” 

“Here, I think it was going to be a normal day, a simple ride-along with the paramedics for my MICN certification renewal. Instead, I arrive on the scene to find you laying out in the middle of the road because some dumb ass drunk thought it was a good idea to get behind the wheel and drive.” Jake spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with unshed tears. 

“You were hit by a moving vehicle Bradley,” 

“And a kid died because of me. Because I couldn’t reach him in time,”

“Damn it, Bradshaw!” Jake shouted, looking at him finally, the bruising on Bradley’s face making Jake want to reach out and touch him. 

“When are you going to get through your head that you are important? This ER doesn’t run without you; I had to walk through those doors today squeezing an ambu bag as everyone looked on in fear.” Jake spoke, his face masked behind his professional nursing demeanor. 

“You have got to stop with the self-sacrifice bullshit; you are the best attending physician this ER has; you treat patients like they are human. I’ve been able to keep nurses because you refuse to let bastard physicians practice here.” 

The sentence hangs in the air, Jake silent as he checks Bradley’s IV again, making notes of how much saline is still in the bag. And try as he might, Jake can not keep quiet, 

“I’ve already lost you once this year,” Jake spoke softly “I’m not risking it again.” 

Bradley reaches his hand out for Jake’s and holds it; Jake hears the minuscule sound of the IV pump running; he looks at the monitor watching Bradley’s heart rate rise ever so slightly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know you are,” Jake sighs. 

“You have stood by my side through everything,” Bradley whispers “Jake, if it weren’t for you, I would have let a man die. I let that bastard take a year of my life. I was so angry.” 

“Bradley, not many people are faced to treat the man who killed their father in cold blood.” 

“It doesn’t matter, and I took an oath. My dad took an oath, and he would have been ashamed of me.”  

“Bradshaw, I doubt that. We are faced with moral dilemmas every day; it’s a part of our job.” 

“You gonna be a good nurse and give me a sponge bath?” Bradley asks, waggling his eyebrows and changing the subject. 

“Bradshaw, don’t make me sedate you. I know Ice will give me an order for Ativan, and it will be the full 2 mgs.” 

“I’m offended, Seresin, I always give you the best orders for medication. Name the last time I’ve only given an order for .25 mgs?” 

“Keep it up, and I’ll tell the interns you need a catheter.”  

“You wound me, I’m down for the count, and you still wound me.” 

“Yet somehow, I am willing to go out on my only 15-minute break and get you actual food instead of cafeteria food,” Jake says, preparing to step away. He pretends he doesn’t feel Bradley squeeze his hand. 

“A double cheeseburger extra pickles-“ 

“And an order of onion rings and a chocolate shake.” Jake finishes knowing the go-to order from the diner located right across from the ER. “I swear, Bradshaw, you eat worse than your own patients and have the nerve to talk about diabetes and high blood pressure.” 

“Yet you love me.” 

“That I do, Bradshaw, that I do.” 

#hangster #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #fic writing #rooster x hangman

[yahsheartcry]

What I learned this last week...

This is to all my fellow Believers in Christ...

This last week was definitely one of trust, obedience, and faith. I thought that my life was going to continue in one place, only to have to go back to a previous past place and not have any idea of my purpose or my assignment in this season. I was scared because my previous place had black mold in the house, and I had gotten very sick. I honestly felt like the woman with the issue of blood for 12 years, because I was spending a lot of time, money, and effort to try to get better. That's when Yah had told me to leave that house, or I might not make it. I didn't want to die in that house, so I left. I trusted that Yah was going to take care of me, and He did.

Now, that I am back here, with a house that has still not been fixed, I feel lost and don't really understand my assignment right now. I know I need to intercede for people while I am here, and love even though they may have betrayed me or hurt me. That in itself is hard, but I know that through this season, He is going to help me overcome, and overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the words of my testimony. What He has started in me, He will finish it. I do know that this is not my ending point, but just a resting point. It's a transition.

Being a Kingdom Woman is not easy. I know that there might be some Believers who ask, "What does that mean?" A Kingdom woman, or a Kingdom Man, are those who follow Christ with everything in them, sacrificing all, to follow their Savior and L-rd. Who would do anything for their King. Who have partnered with Him to spread His dominion and authority and Kingdom to the world. The apostles and disciples of Christ in the Bible were Kingdom Ambassadors. They were willing to sacrifice all, even their own lives, for the sake of the cause of Christ.

I was going to talk about something else this week, and the Holy Spirit wanted me to talk about my walk with Christ this last week. Needless to say, what I have been through is still ongoing and raw, but still a testimony to my faith in Christ and my ability to trust and obey even if I am kicking and screaming all the way through it. It's not easy trusting when things make no sense whatsoever. Even if they do make sense somewhat, knowing what the end product is, the end destination, aka Yeshua, is the ONLY thing that matters! He is our Ultimate Gift! He is our Ultimate Prize! What I have had to learn on this journey of constant unknowns, is that no matter the blessings that He decides to give me along the way, no matter the favor or anointing, no matter the endless amounts of mercy and grace given to me to complete His Kingdom Agenda, no matter what may come...I know that Yeshua is the bestest treasure I could ever ask for or desire. He is the Ultimate Treasure.

Through this journey, I have come to hear, know, and recognize my Daddy's (Yah's) voice very clear and confidently. I know that He loves me and is very protective of His little princess, and would never let anything happen to me. I know that He will always provide my needs. I know that He loves to see me do what He has called me to do. It gives Him great pleasure and delight to see me live out His laws and commandments. He loves to see me smile and laugh. He loves to see me dance and live life to the fullest. It hurts Him to see me hurting and crying. He loves to know that I desire Him, as much as He desires me.

Most people I have told my story to don't believe me, and that's okay. This journey isn't for them. It's for me. He wrote my story for me, and for those who are going to be blessed through me. All I know is that hopefully, through my words today, someone's faith and hope in Yah has been renewed and reignited. Just know that He does love you. He does want a relationship with you. He even desires to be in covenant with you. Just know that you are your Daddy's treasure, and all He wants is to make sure that you are treasured by Him, for Him, and through Him.

I love you all, and I hope that your week is blessed, favored, anointed, and given all for the glory of Yah. If you are reading this, and not a Believer yet, I pray that my words be the seed that will eventually be watered to see the love of your Heavenly Father for you.

Shalom and Forever Blessings to All!

~Hadassah Grace

#the kingdom of god #christian faith #god's love #yah's heartcry! #bible #faith in god #faith in jesus #holy spirit #intimacy with god #relationship with god #word of god #Yah's treasure #Yah's little princess #Believers #Being Yah's missionary to the Lost and the Found #Being His hands

[nebulaeyedfish]

took a break from a bigger piece to doodle a Barira in the antique bookstore I visited today!

#barira #tiefling #dnd oc #dnd #bookshop #nebulaeyedart #this was a lot of fun #I was getting a bit stuck with the other piece so this was a fun distraction #I say like the angles weren't driving me crazy lmaooo #I'll get back to the other one tomorrow #just need to finish colouring it shade it and do the background #so like #the not fun parts lmaooo #i cannot wait to share it though I keep on thinking of things to add and end up laughing very hard at my own thoughts #I might die finishing it but that is a sacrifice i am willing to make #but anyway yeah this was incredibly fun to do #and the bookshop was amazing too #I went in there thinking it was a regular second hand bookshop and wanting to see if they had any old pratchetts but it was like #actual antiques lmao #but my friend and I had a nosey round anyway #it was amazing all these old books and the floors were creaky and it was so atmospheric #dark acadamia lmaooo

[recurring-polynya]

The shinigami buffoonery in the TYBW was unparalleled, and even though you know I love those idiot grim reapers with my whole chest, I general feel like they did not deserve the W on that one (the bit where they are told not to use their bankai and, like, five captains immediately use it???) However, my languishing-in-the-elementary-school-dropoff-line thought of the day is this: The Quincy really did snatch defeat from the jaws of victory by the very simple virtue of never making sure anyone is actually dead.

It’s pretty obvious to me, and makes sense in universe, that high-powered shinigami are really hard to kill. Shinigami have bodies, but they are mostly just there to make everyone feel better, they don’t function like our meathusks, filled with delicate systems of organs and...mucuses and stuff. Shinigami are an incomplete set of memories, bound together by a will to exist. If you wound a shinigami in a way that would definitely kill a human-- disemboweling them for example (a thing that definitely happened to Ichigo once), it will traumatize them for sure, but if they can make it through the initial wound trauma, their spirit (possibly their zanpakutou) will just start spackling their reishi back together. Consider, if you will, how much blood came out of Renji when he fought Byakuya.

I think Byakuya assumes he’s leaving Renji for dead here, given the whole speech about “your bankai has disappeared, you must be close to death” (and let us also consider-- Byakuya considers this to be the indicator that Renji is about to bite it, rather than the fact that most of Renji could be picked up with a mop at this point). Rikichi and Hanatarou come by, but you get the sense that they didn’t save Renji’s life, they just got him back into fighting shape. I’m not sure that if he had just lain there indefinitely, if he would have gotten well enough to get up, but I definitely feel like Renji is incapable of bleeding out. I think this is normally the sort of thing that separates a lieutenant from a captain (or at least a lieutenant with captain potential from, say Omaeda), but Renji is incredibly stubborn generally, and at this moment was incredibly driven to keep going in order to save Rukia.

To actually kill a shinigami, it seems like you have to either cut off or destroy their head, or cut them roughly in half. Even when Tousen gets stabbed through the brain, he is still able to chat a little bit before, um, exploding, for some reason, which is definitely not what would happen to a person who got stabbed through the brain. You can even cut a shinigami, like 65-35, and if the head is on the big half, they can probably survive that. This has happened to Hitsugaya, like 4 times, although I don’t remember which ones turned out to be illusions or in filler, or what, but I am pretty sure that there were at least twice. I mentioned earlier that a shinigami is a set of memories, but another way to think of that is that they are a self-concept. This is sort of a two-edged sword, in the sense that it is this identification with their physical corpus that can cause them to die if it gets hacked up too bad. Mayuri, who is able to think of himself as a big moving glob of reishi, might be nearly impossible to kill without literally, like, doing some sort of Quincy reishi absorption trick. He turned himself into a goo once. (Incidentally, I think Urahara is also very good at this, as evidenced by his bankai).

As far as I can think, the only shinigami we have ever seen succumb to their wounds is Gin, and this holds to my theory, too-- he’s spent over a century lying in wait to take Aizen down. He took his shot and it wasn’t enough. Then, Ichigo shows up, and Gin looks at him, says ‘I am no longer needed’ and dies.

So, back to the point!

The Quincy did a lot of property damage and killed a shit-ton of low-level shinigami. I’m sorry to them, but let’s face it, the low-level shinigami have never played... really... any significant role in Bleach. In terms of actually taking out people with enough power to be considered players:

Sasakibe is killed by a group of seven Quincy as a warning shot

Yhwach personally kills Yamamoto

Unohana lets herself get killed by Kenpachi because she very much wanted to be excluded from this narrative so he would get stronger (still not convinced this was necessary)

Nemu dies while fighting Pernida because she pushed herself past safe operational limits

Ukitake sacrifices himself to keep reality from collapsing

Yhwach and his best guys do manage to kill (temporarily) Squad 0 using a 1-time power-up that claimed the lives of most of the other Quincy forces. It is implied that it is not possible to kill Squad 0 permanently.

You might notice a pattern here, which is that the Quincy suck ass at killing shinigami. Furthermore, at one time or another, the Quincy KO’d a significant portion of the main cast: Kira, Byakuya, Renji, Rukia, Kenpachi, Hitsugaya, Matsumoto. Renji and Rukia interrupted Mask just as he finished taking down Kensei, Rose, Hisagi, Ikkaku and Yumichika, but Giselle gets ahold of Rose and Kensei later and zombifies them, which I am very distinctly not sure is a better strategy than just killing them (it certainly doesn’t pan out very successfully). There may have been some other of these fights that were interrupted, I am not going to re-read the whole TYBW arc for the purposes of this post. My point is, instead of spending one hundred billion Quincy dollars on developing bankai stealing abilities, I would have also given the Sternritter a PowerPoint presentation consisting of a single slide that just says “once they go down, make sure they’re dead.” Personally, I probably would have divided my forces into frontline fighters like Bazz and As Nodt and Bambi, and given them squads to follow along behind them, cutting off heads and incinerating bodies. Then again, Yhwach seemed to give exactly zero shits about personnel issues or strategy, generally.

Mostly, this war was a matter of Yhwach trying to do stuff and various shinigami preventing him from doing it. The TYBW arc is a mess and I am honestly not willing to put in the amount of effort to determine if there were actually any linchpin characters aside from, Ichigo, obviously, but I feel like if the Quincy had gone the extra 0.1% in that first invasion and actually finished off Byakuya, Rukia, Renji, and Kenpachi, they would have won the whole thing.

But they didn’t. lol.

#tybwa #soul society worldbuilding #tw: blood #I have huge body horror and blood issues but they hit haphazardly #and somehow the enormous quantity of blood that Renji has trouble keeping in his body is hilarious to me #sorry to be like this #anyway I def would have won the blood war someone should hire me

[blorbosondeck]

fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts​

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!! 

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas​

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas​ 

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3 

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up. 

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones 

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

#lmao please interact with this i spent so much time on it #i had to go onto desktop for this #ill keep adding on to it #my fic recs #fic rec #spn fic rec #deancas fic recs #charlie.txt

[tricksters-captain]

Helmut Zemo imagines - Hostage Part 2

AN: I’m so glad you guys liked the first chapter!! I’m sorry it’s taken longer than expected to get out!!

Summary: You were chosen as one of Karli’s elite. You became a super soldier to help your cause, make the world a better place but taking the serum came with a price. After being cornered one day, you’re taken by the famous Helmut Zemo to give him answers or face the consequences.

In This Chapter: You wake up to find Zemo has taken you hostage to find out information on the whereabouts of Karli Morgenthau. 

(PART 1 HERE)

Pairing(s): Zemo x Fem!Reader, Karli Morganthau x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 1,721

Warnings: Spoilers for TFATWS, violence, strong language

Zemo caught the young woman’s body as her eyes rolled back. He couldn’t help but let out a grunt as he lifted her up over his shoulder to remove her from the sewers before her accomplice could catch up. 

As he returned to the surface, he peered around the surrounding streets and then carried her over to a parked car. 

He placed her down beside the vehicle as he worked on opening it and getting it started. 

Laying her across the backseat, he made sure he had another syringe handy in case she woke before reaching the desired destination. 

Zemo pulled inside the large building, one of the many he confidentially owned, and removed the flagsmasher from the vehicle before taking her down to the basement of the building. 

He took a moment to remove his large coat as he began to sweat, tossing the expensive garment on the ragged old couch in the corner of the room. 

He carried the girl to the shackles on the wall and stood her up long enough to get the cuffs around her wrists and the thick metal band around her neck. It was a precaution taken to stop her from kicking off the wall if trying to escape. 

Zemo tipped her head back to allow access for the band to wrap around her neck, clasping it on wall behind her. He contemplated removing the flagsmasher mask but ultimately decided it would be easier to gain information from the woman if he couldn’t see just how young she was. Was it wrong for him to admit that? Yes. But he knew it would keep it less personal this way. 

He chained the girl’s ankles together before wiping his brow with his handkerchief and returning to fetch his coat. He figured she may not wake for a while so returned upstairs to make sure the site was secure. 

--

Zemo was grateful when he finally noticed signs of the woman stirring. He had waited long enough to be able to get his hands on one of Karli’s acolytes. 

He introduced himself but you already knew who he was. 

“We have a few things I’d like to discuss first.” Zemo admitted. 

“Like what?” You scowled at the man. 

“Like the whereabouts of Karli Morgenthau.” Zemo pressed his hands together behind his back as he looked upon you. 

You scowled at the man with his mention of Karli. 

“Why would I tell you anything?” You scoffed. 

“Because if you don't, I will simply find the means to force you to.” Zemo’s eyes never left yours as he spoke. 

“Go ahead and try.” You daringly invited him despite the hard knot in your gut. If someone had told you that taking the serum meant being stuck in some freaky torture chamber with Helmut Zemo a few months ago, you weren’t so sure you would’ve taken it. 

Zemo was infamous both as an agent of Sokovia and for single handedly ripping the Avengers apart. 

“Are you really that willing to die for someone who doesn’t even know or care where you are?” Zemo frowned, tilting his head at you. You tried to deflect his mind games but there was a speck of doubt starting to crawl into your mind. 

“They’ll come for me.” You proclaimed. 

“Perhaps they will.” Zemo shrugged, “Perhaps they’ll willingly come to their deaths or perhaps they’ll leave you here to be a martyr for their cause.” 

“You can’t beat us all.” You argued against his threat. 

“On the contrary, I can.” Zemo lifted his finger, his lips turning up into a small smirk as he began to slowly move around the room. “I have experience, and patience. A man can do anything if he has those.”

You tried watching him through your mask that had become increasingly more uncomfortable the longer you wore it. 

You decided against fuelling the fire and remained silent. 

“What's the matter?” Zemo cocked his head towards you. “Cat got your tongue?”

Again, you chose not to respond. 

Zemo quietly scoffed as he started to approach you. 

“Holding your tongue, Miláčik, will not aid you in any way.”

Once he seemed close enough, you tried to jolt forward against your restraints but ultimately failed. 

You choked against the metal neckband and your wrists cried out against the cuffs. They had been much stronger than anything you had encountered before. 

“Vibranium.” Zemo gestured to your holds. “Very difficult to get hold of and very expensive.”

Zemo’s fingertips pressed together as he studied you. You were avoiding eye contact with the man but instead searching the room for any way to get out of your restraints. 

“There is no escape.” Zemo announced as he clocked your behaviour. “The only way you are leaving this place is if you give me the location of Karli and her comrades.” 

“I’ll be leaving this place in a bodybag you mean.” You spat back. 

“Well, that all depends on how long it takes for you to give me what I desire.” Zemo’s smirk dropped. He lifted his chin slightly, glowering at you. 

“Fuck you.” You sneered. Zemo didn’t react to the deprecation, his face cold and hard as he stared unblinking. 

You almost thanked the universe when Zemo’s phone began to rang. 

Zemo answered it swiftly, walking off to the furtherest corner of the basement to take the call to stop you eavesdropping in any way. 

You tried fighting the restraints on your ankles but they were just as strong as the holds on your wrists. You wondered how long Zemo had planned to take one of you hostage. You internally scolded yourself. You should have been more careful. 

“I have some business to take care of.” Zemo interrupted your thoughts as he pulled his mobile away from his ear. “If I were you I’d consider my options whilst I am away. Once I return, we shall be having a little conversation one way or another.” 

You felt an ice cold chill roll down your spine from Zemo's threat. His voice sent goosebumps over your skin and his eyes held enough power to kill you right there.

You watched Zemo climb the rickety staircase without a second glance back to you. 

Sweat began to roll down your forehead under your mask. You growled, rubbing it against your arm to try and remove the damn thing. It didn’t take too long before it was clattering against the floor and you felt like you could finally breathe again. 

You inhaled the damp air deeply and rested your head back against the wall. 

Your mind diverged back to Deedee, you hoped she had gotten out before Zemo could have done anything. You knew he’d take her out if she tried to help you, he only needed one of you alive for information. 

You closed your eyes to try and hone in your senses. You tried to listen for any hint that might tell you where you were. The building was eerily silent despite the howling wind from above; you figured there must be some kind of broken window or hole in the wall causing the whistle. From the state of the room around you, you could tell this was an older building, vacated for a while. 

You couldn’t hear any cars, planes or voices. You had to be somewhere pretty secluded from the rest of the city.

Your eyes snapped open when you heard the latch of the door at the top of the stairs. 

Zemo’s footsteps were heavy as he descended back down to you. 

Your eyes found his hands as he rolled his sleeves up to just below his elbows. 

“Are you ready to talk?” He asked. When he lifted his head from his arms back to you, he froze in his step. Not that you noticed. 

His mouth closed and his jaw seized as his eyes absorbed your features. 

He hadn't expected you to have removed the mask. He recognised you from the mugshots but you looked very different in person. 

You were young, with soft features and your eyes were narrow with vexation. You were also very beautiful. He couldn’t deny that. 

He had to drop his eyes back to his sleeves when he felt an odd familiarity about you begin to impel. 

“What happened to the other woman I was with?” You asked, taking a minute before responding to the man. 

“She left you.” Zemo announced. You felt a wave of relief, realising that she escaped unharmed. 

You watched the man turn his back on you, approaching the small metal cart to his left and picking up a small scalpel. He examined it as he spoke. 

“This isn’t personal.” Zemo muttered. “I have no quarrel with what you are trying to do. It’s how you have decided to do it. Super soldiers should not be allowed to exist. I have spent years trying to end the super soldier line and I won’t stop until my work is finished.” 

“Until we are all dead.” You corrected him. 

“Not all.” Zemo shook his head. “You may still have a chance of survival after all this.” 

“To live whilst the people I care for are dead? That isn’t a chance I want to take.” 

“You may care for them but I am certain they don’t care for you. Your so-called comrade left you alone in the tunnels despite your cries about trouble. Your death means nothing to them.” Zemo finally looked back at you. “You were a sacrifice they were willing to make.” 

You were hesitant to answer. You knew Deedee had only left because you had commanded her to. The team must all be sat around now wondering where you were, wondering how to get you back and if you are still alive. They wouldn’t just leave you. Karli wouldn’t leave you. 

“How can you expect me to give up any information if I know you’re just going to murder them if you find them?” You catechised Zemo. 

“Murder is a strong word. Would you say you murdered those innocent people in Vilnius?” Zemo’s mention of Vilnius made your stomach twist tighter. Nausea began to creep up on you and Zemo noticed the paling of your complexion. “Everybody has a breaking point. We just have to find yours.”

AN: NEW PART NEXT WEEK! Ask to be added to the taglist to keep up to date with all new parts!

Taglist  

@cathrin2405 @serenityfirefly97 @shannon-posts @dxnxdjarxn @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @trelaney  @sierrabaltzer  @daydreamer-in-training @e-barba @ornella0910 @natty13 @bry-97 @cherieweasley @kermuddgen @madelyn-barnes @jaxcliffaconda @candicerace @mo320 @takacsgram @hiccup005 @viviace @fillechatoyante @sapphiredreamer26 @misssilencewritewell @caligrl1992 @bbakugaan03 

#helmut zemo imagines #Zemo x reader #Zemo imagines #Helmut Zemo x reader #Helmut Zemo #Baron Zemo #Baron Zemo x reader #Baron Zemo imagines #Daniel Bruhl #Daniel Bruhl imagines #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier imagines #karli morgenthau #flagsmashers #series #hostage #part 2 #x reader

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 6.1

Twenty-four hours, thirty minutes, ten seconds and counting.  Xiao continued to pace outside of Dawn Winery in complete silence.  He still hadn't heard a single word from you, and he had stayed awake all night.  Not really a sacrifice since he pulled all-nighters frequently, but his hopes were crushed when his long night was filled with nothing but silence.

Inside, Aether approached Diluc rather quickly with Paimon in tow.  "How would you like to kill Fatui?"

"I beg your pardon?"  Diluc set his glass of grape juice on his desk.  He had been busy with mapping the next wine delivery route when they suddenly barged through his doors.  He kind of wished they had the kindness to knock, but the desperate glints in their eyes caught him off guard.

"We said, how would you like to kill the Fatui?" Paimon crossed her arms.

"We need to infiltrate Snezhnaya.  They took her."

"'Her?'"  Diluc raised a brow, already annoyed by the vagueness of their requests.

"Ugh, the same girl from yesterday! Who earned her cryo vision!  She was taken last night at your tavern! Didn't you see us all run out?"  Paimon's brows furrowed impatiently.

"We need to infiltrate Snezhnaya," Aether repeated and took a step forward.  "We can't do it without you on our team."

"Hold on," Diluc waved a hand to silence them.  "We can't just infiltrate a foreign country.  There are laws and regulations you have to--"

"That's why we came to you!" Paimon yelled.  "If anyone can get us in there, it's you and your underground connections!"

"You hate the Fatui more than anything," Aether continued.  "Will you help us?"

Diluc thought for a moment while he traced the rim of his glass with his index finger.  "We can't recklessly barge into enemy territory.  I'll see what intel I can gather.  Wait here."

Xiao burst through the doors almost as if he had seen a ghost--actually, that would be an inaccurate metaphor since he's quite experienced with the spirits of the dead.  No matter.  He burst through the doors as pale as a sheet.  "I hear her."

..................................................

You glared at the third plate of food that sat upon the stool Childe left in your cell.  You had refused to eat the prior two meals while he was in the cell with you.  He had your cuffs unlocked so you could eat, but you refused to move from your place against the wall.  Cooked fish, some sort of vegetable, and white rice.  They were treating you well.  You were needed alive and healthy, after all, but you weren't hungry.  And since Childe had finally left you alone, well, that gave you the chance to talk to the only person you could.

Xiao.  Xiao! The thought of startling him brought a thin smile to your lips.  I wonder if I scared you...I'm safe--well, as safe as I can be at the moment.  I miss you... Your smile faded.  But I  cannot call for you.  It's too dangerous; I'm sure they already have a way to capture you.  Now that I know you're always listening, it's nice to talk like this.  Less lonely.  

Something clinked against the outer cell door, and it opened.  Childe and one of the harbingers you saw yesterday entered.  The latter held a strange white-and-gray mask that obscured everything besides part of his right cheek and lips.  His bluish-white hair almost seemed to brighten the small room from how light it was.

"It's a sign of disrespect if you refuse to eat the food provided for you," Childe commented once he saw that your plate was yet again untouched.  "We're treating you with more hospitality than our prisoners, after all."

"This is still imprisonment.  Screw off," you brought your knees to your chest as if your legs served to protect you from their stares.

"Ah, yes," the other harbinger picked the plate up and placed it at your feet.  "My test subject needs to eat.  I suggest you do it by your own will before I see to it myself."  

"You might want to listen to him."  Childe was warning you, but not out of consideration for you.

"Go to hell!" You threw the plate at the new harbinger since he was closest, and covered his tidy suit in food.  The white rice mostly clung to the fabric.  Thank the archons that your shoulder was healed and your arm could be put to good use now.

"Listen here, you little--"  The man grabbed you by the collar and lifted you like you weighed nothing until your feet dangled above the ground.  "I don't have the patience of the Tsaritsa's war dog.  I do things quite differently, and you are under my jurisdiction now.  See to it that you follow my orders to the tee, or I can make things very unpleasant here on out."  He dropped you to the floor and exited the cell.

Childe gave you a look of 'I told you so' as he followed suite.

...............................................

What day is it? Your hazy mind stared at the opposite wall.  You lazily traced figure-eights over your tattered jeans.  Approximately twenty-one meals were served--and wasted-- so maybe it was day seven?  A full week of sitting in this barren room?

A few days of no nutrition were of no consequence to you; you were a light eater anyway.  But by day five you were beginning to get dizzy from your voluntary starvation.  You slept most of the day.  The slightest of movements made the world spin around you.  Thoughts of giving in and digging into the meals crossed your mind several times.

I will not falter.  They will not get what they need from me.  I'll starve before they can have me, you gave yourself the pep talk over and over again.  The hours that were filled with zero social interaction drove you mad; you'd either talk to yourself, or to Xiao, who you only hoped could still hear you and maybe even reply in his own mind.  It was a shame the conversation couldn't go both ways.

"I miss you," you murmured a breath.  "If I get out of this, would you like to go eat almond tofu with me?"

Childe entered quietly, and knelt in front of you after giving your full plate the side-eye.  "This little hunger strike of yours needs to stop.  You need to eat."  You didn't answer, and he let out a small sigh.  "Il Dottore finished his set-up this morning.  I'm sure he'll be ready to take you from under my watch by tomorrow at the latest."  He sat down now, and examined you carefully.  

I didn't think we'd break her this quickly,  he thought.  Such a stubborn personality reduced to this pathetic heap of a woman.  A slim smile spread across his lips when he realized how much he loved watching you break under the pressure.

"Leave," you breathed.

"You're smarter than I thought, you know."  Childe placed his chin on the hand that was propped up on his leg.  "If you really thought he had a chance at defeating us, you would have called for Xiao by now.  You've isolated yourself from the only person that caught your eye."

That's what you think, you scoffed.  I've been talking to him this whole damn time.

"Or have you been praying to him?"  Childe's eyes narrowed and the grin on his lips only widened.  The small glance you sent him validated his question.  "You're telling me that this great and mighty adeptus has heard your suffering, and has yet to do a single thing about it?  Are you really sure he's reliable? Oh, ojou-chan," he clicked his tongue and shook his head at you.  "He won't neglect his duties to protect Liyue to come save you."

"You don't know him like I do," a bit of fighting spirit entered your hoarse voice, and your eyes began to glow.

"Oh, but I do.  An ancient yaksha that's at least half the age of Morax himself, falling in love with a human girl?  Is that what you're expecting from him?"  The words cut deeper than his blade had cut through your shoulder.  "You really believe such a hardened soul could learn to love in as quickly as a single human lifetime?  Ojou-chan, open your eyes.  He does not care for you, and he couldn't even if he tried.  Look around you, ojou-chan.  You're still here, in this dark cell, and he's where?  In Mondstat? Liyue?  He doesn't seem to care all too much about you."

"That's because I told him to stay away," you growled, eyes shining brighter.  You curled your fists and prepared to strike him if he had the audacity to continue spewing nonsense.  "You know, you have your entire life to be a jerk.  Why don't you take today off?"

"Even if he did save you, there's no future with him.  You will continue to chase after the illusion of love with him for the rest of your life, only to die alone with your youth wasted.  Even if you escaped, you would be on the run for your entire life, hiding away from the preying eyes of the Fatui.  Is that worth an escape, if you can no longer truly live?

"You're better off working with us, following Dottore's orders, and gaining the trust of the Tsaritsa.  You can make a life for yourself here if you decide to survive.  But out there," he pointed toward the cell door.  "Out there, you will not live."

"You know, your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth!"  You yelled as he exited the cell.  Your plate collided with the door right as it closed.  Hot tears stained your cheeks once you were left alone.

He's only trying to break you into submission, you soothed yourself as you hugged your legs.  They felt thinner than usual.  He's just trying to break me.  But why do his words...make me feel so upset?  You buried your face into your knees.  Maybe he's right.

......................................................

"So the guard schedules all overlap? There's no way in?"  Paimon looked over the scattered notes on Diluc's table.  Most of them held ineligible scribbles on them, and she furrowed her brows because of it.

"This was all you were able to gather in a week?"  Aether pulled at his hair and sighed heavily.

"Not many are willing to oppose the Fatui," said Diluc.  "It took all my resources to get this much.  We don't know the interior layout of the castle other than the main exits and entrances.  But I did manage to find us a caravan that leaves at dawn tomorrow."

"Finally!"  Paimon huffed.  "Something useful!"

"I am sorry I haven't been of use to you all," Zhongli bowed his head in a sincere apology.  "It has been years since I've last seen Snezhnaya and the cryo archon."  You meant a great deal to the group, and Zhongli probably took your abduction the hardest since he could not intervene with the Tsaritsa and her plans.

"At least we finally have enough of a foundation to squeeze out a plan!"

"Have you heard from her at all today, Xia--?"  Aether interrupted himself.  "Are...you okay?"

All eyes turned to antisocial yaksha that stood at the back of the room.  It was a small thing the traveler had noticed, but it was significant enough that it totally contradicted everything Xiao was.

He was crying.

First,  you asked to eat with him when this was all over.  Then an overwhelming sense of dread and helplessness flooded his mind like a tsunami.  A single tear rolled down his cheek and he hastily wiped it away.  A tear?

"Stay out of my way," he disappeared from the room and manifested outside.  What was this unfamiliar clenching in his chest?  This clenching in his throat?  The way his hands tingled and his eyes stung?  The afternoon sun seemed to worsen it.

"Xiao," a deep voice spoke behind him, and he turned to face it.  Zhongli placed a large hand on the yaksha's head and closed his eyes for a moment.  When he released his grip, he too, felt the same pain in his chest.  

"She's in pain," the yaksha murmured.  "Every day she grows weaker.  Her strength, it...diminishes."  While it was a blessing to know you were alive, it was also a curse.  He could hear the uncertainty in your voice when you prayed, and the way you hesitate to speak to him each passing day.  The centuries of hardened walls blocking the yaksha from emotion grew weaker the more you did.

"Your bond has grown," the archon explained the physical and mental phenomena Xiao was being put through.  "You feel her emotions, just as she feels yours."

"Rid me of them," Xiao ordered.  "I have no need for the emotions of a human."

"She is no longer the only one that holds human emotions.  You care for her deeply, do you not?"  No answer. Blank stare. "I'm certain you've contemplated and understood my words in Qingce Village by now."  Zhongli's eyes followed the ascending path of two cranes flying overhead.  "You wish to rescue her, even though Liyue requires your protection?  You're worried I won't grant your request?"

"...Yes."

"Worry no longer; it is granted.  But be warned, Guardian Yaksha, emotions cannot be permanently ignored.  They will rise to the forefront sooner or later,"  his gaze returned to Xiao's.  "You best be sure to share them before they fall on the ears of an early grave."

#xiao x reader #genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin imagines #xiao #xiao fanfiction

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys - Chapter 8 - END

- Ao3 link -

“You’re not going to like what we’ve decided,” Lao Nie said.

Lan Qiren could have guessed that from the way that the other man had marched into the room and promptly used Lan Qiren’s thigh as a pillow, primarily, Lan Qiren suspected, because he didn’t want to have to look Lan Qiren in the face.

It was a common tactic of his these days. The Nie clan had always been inclined towards tactile behavior and a certain lack of personal boundaries – personal information was too much to share, but apparently bodies were free game – and Lao Nie had very quickly transitioned from embarrassment to taking advantage of his newfound dependency on regular physical contact with Lan Qiren. Much to Lan Qiren’s relief, they had managed, with some experimenting and considerable effort on all parts involved, for Lao Nie to form a bond directly with the jade pendant. Now, as long as he carried the pendant, he was able to be by himself for a shichen or so without experiencing any degradation in his mental state – and that, in turn, enabled them both to separate and allowed them both some measure of privacy.

Unfortunately, after that shichen was over, Lao Nie would begin to become irritable and irrational again, his eyes slowly becoming bloodshot as the rage and resentful energy contained now wholly within him, rather than in the jade – in Jiwei, rather – began to need to be excised. Exercise and cultivation with a heavy training saber helped slow the effects, as did Lan Qiren’s musical efforts to calm and clear his mind, but Lao Nie’s cultivation was simply too high for it to last for very long. It was as if half his meridians had vanished overnight and yet he continued to cultivate as he did before; it was as if his dominant arm had been abruptly cut off, and yet he instinctively continued to try to do everything he previously could. He needed his saber to complete even a standard circulation of his qi, and short of suppressing his spiritual energy entirely (another experiment that met with some limited success, getting them another two shichen of time apart if they really needed it, but which was not a long-term solution given the unfortunate side effects), he had to have access to it.

Currently, that access was through Lan Qiren.

“If you’re warning me in advance, I’m quite certain that I won’t like it,” he said mildly, continuing to play uninterrupted. He wasn’t cultivating anything at the moment – the piece he was working on was actually a refinement of the music he’d inadvertently created in his grief at Cangse Sanren’s death, the one that had made his normally very stable nephews burst into tears, and he didn’t want to add spiritual energy to it until he’d worked out exactly how he wanted it to go. He reached an appropriate stopping place, noted down a few revisions to the score, and put his guqin aside. “You should tell me about it regardless.”

Lao Nie exhaled. “Well, good news first – the smiths have finally finished conferring and they’ve concluded that they believe it’s possible to try reforging Jiwei, so they’re willing to give it a try.”

“Good,” Lan Qiren said. He hadn’t really understood the spiritual weaponsmiths’ reluctance on the subject, but he respected their expertise as craftsmen, just as they respected his as a musician. “Once the saber has been remade, I can reestablish the resonance between them and, in theory, Jiwei should be able to use that pathway to return - and with greater ease, as she would be returning to her more familiar self.”

“Not that easy, unfortunately,” Lao Nie said regretfully. “Jiwei was shattered. To remake the blade, they will need to – for want of a better explanation – melt her down and start entirely afresh. It will be like having a wholly different saber, albeit with the same metal that she’s used to.”

Lan Qiren frowned.

“There, you see the issue. If it’s a new saber, the familiarity will be absent. We will need to work on reestablishing the resonance the way we did with the pendant, and that means –”

“Slowly.” Lan Qiren’s frown deepened. It had taken him years to establish that initial resonance, and knowing how it was done could only reduce the process by so much. “That is indeed a problem. I cannot stay here as long as that would take. In all truth, I am surprised that I have not already been summoned back by my sect…”

“Oh, you have,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “A-Jue burned the letters and told the messengers to fuck off.”

Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped. “He did what?!”

“Did we not say? You’ve officially been kidnapped! Well, no, really it’s more of a hostage exchange situation, since they have A-Sang with them…oh, don’t look so horrified, Qiren,” Lao Nie said, starting to laugh. “Your sect elders have indicated that no offense was taken, under the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?!” Lan Qiren spluttered a little. “You’re not serious! What circumstances could justify one sect kidnapping another sect’s sect leader, acting or otherwise?!”

Lao Nie stopped laughing, the sound cutting off as if he’d been choked. “Yes, well,” he said, closing his eyes. “That’s the part you’re really not going to like.”

Lan Qiren determinedly prodded at Lao Nie’s shoulder until the other man, grumbling, sat up and took a proper seat so that they could have this discussion face-to-face. Their knees remained touching, which was good enough, and about all that the scoundrel deserved at the moment.

“Explain,” Lan Qiren ordered, and Lao Nie dipped his head into a nod.

“There are several relevant points,” he said crisply, dropping into the familiar pattern of a report. “First, Hanhan has clearly decided that he wants me dead –”

“Must you?” Lan Qiren interjected, even though he had not meant to interrupt.

“Oh, I must.” Lao Nie’s eyes were flinty. “He decided that if he couldn’t have me – and no one said he couldn’t, except his own paranoia – that if he couldn’t, no one could, and I’m not about to forgive him for that, don’t worry. But he’s still my Hanhan, my A-Han, underneath all his madness, and for my own sake, I’m not going to let anyone, whether him or me, forget it. No matter how necessary, some things have to hurt, and to their fullest extent...However, that’s not what’s relevant now. May I continue?”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“He wants me dead,” Lao Nie said, resuming his narrative. “Now that he tried once, he may try again, and I currently lack the capability to defend myself – the doctors, and you, have all agreed that I should avoid any excessive use of qi, and fighting a battle with a saber that isn’t Jiwei is a recipe for disaster in the best of times. I can’t exactly swing the pendant around, can I? Moreover, it may take years for us to establish the resonance, re-transfer Jiwei, and for me to re-familiarize myself with the new saber.”

Lan Qiren did not like the way this was going.

“There’s also the matter that I can’t be without physical contact with you for extended periods of time, and you of course have your responsibility to your sect,” Lao Nie continued. “Kidnapping you is, at best, a temporary fix. We will need something more permanent, and your sect elders have already indicated that they won’t let you marry out until your nephews are grown – and obviously we can’t wait that long, even assuming you’d want to marry me.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth.

“Don’t say that you’d be willing to make the sacrifice to marry me, because even if you would, I wouldn’t. Putting aside the fact that you wouldn’t be happy leaving the Cloud Recesses and as much as I adore you, having been married before, I’m quite certain that I only want to marry my lovers, thank you.”

Lan Qiren had, in fact, been about to make an offer just like that, but he kept his mouth shut. They could discuss it at length at a later point.

“In short, the best solution to all of these problems, therefore, appears to be to allow events to play out as Hanhan would have wanted: for me to die.”

“You cannot be serious!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, abruptly furious. “After all the effort we put into saving your life, you would just throw it away?”

Lao Nie held up his hands. “Forgive me, I spoke unwisely – ‘do not take your words lightly’, right?”

Lan Qiren was usually very easily distracted by the mention of the Lan sect rules, but he resisted the temptation and glared.

“I didn’t mean I’d actually die,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Only that that would be the story we put out to the world. The process has already begun – that’s why your sect elders aren’t kicking up a fit about A-Jue being so rude to them about refusing to return you.”

“They think he’s in mourning,” Lan Qiren realized. “Whether actual, or merely preemptive.”

He could see how it might appear that way: Nie Mingjue showing up late in the evening, depositing a shaken and terrified Nie Huaisang, using up all the medical supplies in Lan Qiren’s personal possession, and then asking Lan Qiren to return home with him…

Due to Lan Qiren’s friendship with Lao Nie, Nie Mingjue had grown up especially close to the Lan sect; Lan Qiren had been his teacher, and in the end he was only fifteen, even if most people didn’t know that. Even in a world where Lao Nie could not have been saved, he might have refused to let Lan Qiren go home so quickly, seeking comfort from the sole familial authority, however informally constituted, that he had remaining.

“But Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said slowly. “If you are supposedly dead, then Mingjue will need to become sect leader.”

Lao Nie grimaced, but nodded.

He’d been right about one thing, at least: Lan Qiren did not like what the Nie sect had decided.

He didn’t like it one bit.

“You know what that will do to him,” he said. He himself knew it better than anyone.

“I do,” Lao Nie confirmed, looking pained. “But it’s the best out of a short list of very bad options. If I stay on as sect leader in my current state, someone will kill me – probably Hanhan, but maybe someone else, one of the many small sects that have ambitions of taking the Nie sect’s place – and if that happens, A-Jue will have to become sect leader in truth, without my support. At least this way, I can act as an advisor, aid him with paperwork…that sort of thing.”

As much as Lan Qiren would have liked to argue, he didn’t have a good rebuttal to that.

Lao Nie’s position within the Nie sect was as secure as anything, and the Nie sect’s position as a Great Sect was nearly as unshakable, but there were always smaller sects looking to see whether that could change. If he were known to be so critically weakened...Wen Ruohan might not even need to kill him personally. He’d just need to wait.

And the rest was true, too. There were many things Lao Nie could do from a distance - his month at the Lan sect had shown that much - and having someone reliable to turn to for advice and hard choices was the ideal sort of transition for a new sect leader.

Still, the sect conferences alone would be horrifying, and those Lao Nie would not be able to aid Nie Mingjue with, even if he could help with all the rest.

He hated it.

But he couldn’t argue against it.

“Moreover, without the bulk of the responsibilities of sect leader on my shoulders, I’ll have more opportunity to focus on healing.”

That was true as well. Lao Nie had been hurt very deeply by Jiwei’s destruction. His cultivation had fallen, his usual cultivation pathway denied to him, his trust in his own mental well-being betrayed…in an ideal world, Lan Qiren would recommend seclusion for a few months, maybe even a year, for him to focus on reestablishing his connection with himself, re-centering his foundation so that he could climb up once more. But for a sect leader, that was impossible.

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said, although he made sure by his tone to make clear how much he disapproved. “I understand the basis for your decision.”

“I thought you might.”

“There’s only one flaw I see with your plan.”

“Oh?”

Lan Qiren folded his hands together in front of him. “You still need me, don’t you? Even with the excuse of mourning, Nie Mingjue can only request my presence for so long before the demands of my sect become paramount over their respect for his filial piety and grief.”

“Oh, we’ll let you go back eventually,” Lao Nie said with a shrug. “And I’d go with you.”

Lan Qiren had been expecting that. “And how exactly do you intend to keep the story of your death intact if you’re living with me at the Cloud Recesses? Even if we increase your tolerance such that you can stay home at all times, my home is often visited by my students, including those from other sects – and while there may be a rule against talking behind people’s backs, it is one of the most commonly broken.”

Lao Nie winced in a way that suggested both that he had thought of an answer to that question and also that Lan Qiren was going to hate it.

“Whatever you say, I cannot dislike it more than A-Jue becoming sect leader at fifteen,” Lan Qiren pointed out.

“I don’t know about that,” Lao Nie said. “Given that to this day you despise the smell of gentians.”

Lan Qiren’s brain came to an abrupt halt.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Qiren…”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a good solution,” Lao Nie argued. “No one in your sect goes to that house – most of them don’t even know it exists! It’s within a short walking distance of your home, protected by arrays to enhance silence and protect privacy…”

“I am not locking you in He Kexin’s place!” Lan Qiren bellowed.

“You wouldn’t be locking me anywhere,” Lao Nie said, for once the reasonable and calm one in the face of Lan Qiren’s fury. “I would be going willingly, and I would be free to leave at any time. You’re not your brother, Qiren, and I’m not He Kexin – not least of which because I’m neither capable of nor interested in bearing two sons for you as a means of passing the time.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “A bit of a pity, that. I’m sure they’d be cute.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes at him, although the reassurance and humor had helped douse the worst of his terror at the mere idea. Irritatingly, it was a good solution: he had made the trek to He Kexin’s home hundreds of times and no one had ever raised any questions. In the unlikely event that they did so now, he could claim he was merely tending to the garden to maintain it for his nephews; more likely, however, they would simply not notice – the path between the two locations was short and purposefully discrete.

“You’ll need someone to clean the place,” he pointed out. “Even He Kexin had servants, and if you don’t want anyone from the Lan sect finding out about it…”

“I have some servants that are loyal to me personally, and which are not Nie sect disciples,” Lao Nie said. “They can seek employment at the Cloud Recesses on the basis that they didn’t want to remain here after I’d gone – literally true, if you think about it in a certain light. Your sect would snatch them up in a heartbeat.”

They would, too, even without Lan Qiren interfering: properly trained servants who knew how to serve cultivators were a precious commodity that often had to be raised up from a young age or recruited with great caution from the ranks of rogue cultivators, and ones with the skills and experience that came from serving at another Great Sect were even more valued than most. And once they were part of the Cloud Recesses, there would be no difficulty in Lan Qiren adding the task of caring for He Kexin’s house to their list of duties.

“It’s a good plan,” he finally conceded, and Lao Nie sniggered.

“You look as though you’ve bitten into a lemon, Qiren. Did it hurt to say?”

“It hurt to think,” he retorted, and turned back to his guqin. “Will you visit my brother while you’re there? He might enjoy hearing your voice and knowing that you are close.”

Lao Nie had always refused in the past, and he shook his head now. “Not all of us are as forgiving as you, Qiren. Qingheng-jun made his choices.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“He makes them again every day,” Lao Nie disagreed. “He may have declared that he would stay in seclusion for the rest of his life to make amends, but that was his decision. He could break his oath and come out, do the right thing, but he doesn’t want to.”

It was an old argument, and an unproductive one. Lan Qiren shook his head, signaling that he would no longer engage.

He had other things to be concerned with, and would for some time. There was helping with Lao Nie’s recovery, creating the new resonance, playing calming music for him, keeping his secret; he would also need to help support Nie Mingjue as much as possible during his transition to sect leader, whether through correspondence and advice or through active intervention during the discussion conferences. He would need to manage his nephews, who he had taught so carefully not to lie, and yet they would need to learn to keep this secret, too.

Taking care of Lao Nie would also be an additional set of duties, on top of being sect leader and being a teacher and being himself, but Lan Qiren didn’t mind it.

It wouldn’t be so bad, actually, now that he thought of it without prejudice. To have someone close by to take tea with in the afternoons when his nephews were too busy and it wasn’t the right time of year for students, someone with whom he could speak on any range of subjects, including his occasional frustrations with his sect, stories about his students, the political troubles of the day – a friend close by, rather than at a distance. Someone who would probably encourage him to take more exercise than he usually did, to try things outside of his comfort zone, someone who would listen to his ideas on music or the rules without judgment, someone who would share his burdens and support him…it would be a little like having a wife, but without all the inconvenient aspects that he so thoroughly disliked.

“It’s not too bad, as such things go,” Lao Nie said, his thoughts clearly moving along a similar line as Lan Qiren’s. “Whatever the world thinks, I’ll be the first Nie sect leader to live to enjoy a retirement, however premature.”

This was true.

“I’ll miss my boys, of course,” Lao Nie added. “But I’ll write, and you can invite A-Sang to your lectures when he’s old enough. A-Jue can come visit you, sect leader to sect leader…I wouldn’t be the first father to only see his children a few times a year.”

“Nie Huaisang will probably fail my classes,” Lan Qiren said, having been acquainted with the individual in question for some time now. A clever child, even very clever, but he was also lazy, hated reciting facts, and was as stubborn as a rock – as stubborn as his father. “You’ll probably have the joy of him for several summers in a row.”

Lao Nie smiled.  

“Well, I can’t say this was what I expected when I wrote to you for help all those years ago,” he joked, leaning down and playing with the jade token that now hung from his belt rather than Lan Qiren’s. Wen Ruohan would probably have a fit if he ever saw it – indeed, Lan Qiren was already looking forward to that day in the future, however distant, where Lao Nie would regain his saber and his former strength and re-emerge to make his feelings on the subject of Wen Ruohan’s actions clear. “But I’m still glad you came.”

“As am I, my friend,” Lan Qiren said. “As am I.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

[nyxshadowhawk]

The Lady of the Labyrinth

My entry for @dionysia-ta-astika's City Dionysia contest! I'm very proud of myself for having finished it in a week, and I thought I'd share it here on my own blog.

Hail Dionysus!

*** Everything was lost. My brother was dead. My love was gone.

I was also stranded on a deserted island. I stared out at the vast, empty expanse of the sea. The sunlight on the waves winked at me with a thousand eyes, as though diamonds had been scattered across the surface of the water. Anyone would find this beach tranquil, I suppose, if they were here under different circumstances than mine.

My brother’s name was Asterion.

Most people didn’t know his name, or even that he had one. To most people, he was the Minotaur, a horrible monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull that eats people. Asterion was a monster, and he did eat people.

Beneath my father’s shining palace, he prowled the twists and turns of the Labyrinth that my father’s genius architect built. The Labyrinth was mine, once. Daedalus made it for me as a dancing path, when I was a little girl. But now it is a dark, disorienting maze of seemingly endless passageways, and I was still the only person who knew how to navigate it. When I could have time alone, I would go to the Labyrinth. I felt my way through its pitch-black corridors, memorizing the nicks and cracks in the rough stone, trying to calm my thoughts. I spoke to Asterion through the walls: “You have never seen the sun,” I said to him. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like in the outside world? Or do you like it down here?” I received no answer from the surrounding darkness. If I did hear something — a snort, or hooves on stone, I would have to run as fast as I could away from the sound. Even I couldn’t go too near Asterion — I wouldn’t want to run the risk that he might attack me.

“Why do you go down there?” My sister, Phaedra, asked me. “What could possibly be appealing about that dark, dismal place?”

“I like it down there,” I said, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as I could. “It is peaceful. And I don’t mind the dark.”

She looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted bull’s horns myself. “You know you risk your life every time you enter the Labyrinth, right?”

“He’s our brother,” I said. I don’t know what I intended to explain by saying that. I felt like I had a responsibility to him that extended beyond simply being his sister. I tried to see a man in him, although he sniffed and bellowed and charged like a bull. He could gore me to death like a bull, but I did not fear him. “I can’t say I love him, but I feel something.”

“You shouldn’t feel any sympathy for him. He’s a freak of nature. The gods cursed us with him for our father’s arrogance. He is a shame upon our kingdom.”

She was right, of course. The gods gifted us a beautiful white bull that we were meant to sacrifice to Poseidon, but my father decided to keep it instead. And Poseidon cursed us… Asterion is the unholy offspring of my mother and the bull. And it gets worse. Every seven years, seven young men and seven young women from the city of Athens were brought to the Labyrinth to be fed to my brother. This was because my other brother, whom I was too young to remember, died while in Athens. Athens pays for this slight with the lives of other young people.

I suppose it’s no different than war, or at least, that’s what my father says. All cities send their youths to die for the polis. How was this any different? I could hardly bear the prisoners’ wails of desperation or their pleas for me to help them. When I heard they were coming, I begged my father to set them free, asserting that it was wrong to sacrifice humans to anything. If the gods had cast Tantalus into Tartarus for feeding them his son, then why should we knowingly feed humans to a monster? He laughed at me and asked why I had no pride in my family.

I hated the thought of the fourteen young people being fed to him, but I also couldn’t imagine killing my own brother, even if he was a monster.

I was too young to remember the last time the prisoners came to the Labyrinth. They had come, and my brother had gorged himself on their flesh, and I was none the wiser. This time, I knew, and the horror of it struck me silent as the tributes were paraded through the city like animal sacrifices to the gods, so that we could all see those who were doomed to die. I could hardly bear to look at them. Some of those girls were barely older than me. It felt wrong to sit by and watch as they were brought to the Labyrinth. But what could I do to save their lives? Supplicating my father would not work, and the only other option was helping them to escape, somehow. How could I do that?

In spite of myself, I caught sight of one of the young men. He was handsome, and he had a defiant, blazing look in his eye. He looked straight at my father on his throne. “I am Theseus of Athens!” he declared. “I have come to slay your monstrous son!”

My father had laughed at him, but he consumed my thoughts. That may be because he was absolutely gorgeous, but it was also because if he succeeded at killing Asterion, he would solve all my problems. I wouldn’t have to take my own brother’s life, but he would devour no more innocent lives. And, if this youth survived, he might take me away with him. I knew the Labyrinth better than anyone. Even if he did survive, he could never make it in and out without my help.

Forgive me, Asterion.

The prisoners were held in two dank cells near the entrance to the Labyrinth. The women were kept in one, and the men were kept in the other. Many of the prisoners were crying — not just the women, but the men, too. In my familiarity with the Labyrinth and its inhabitant, I had forgotten just how terrifying both would be to anyone else. The Labyrinth’s darkness and maddening complexity would intimidate anyone, and the prospect of being eaten by a monster within its depths was horrific.

Only Theseus seemed calm. His boldness in front of my father hadn’t been an act. His jaw was set, and he still had raw determination in his steely eyes. He was really going to do it, wasn’t he? He actually meant to kill Asterion. He shone like gold in the gloom of the dungeon — he could have been Apollo. If our circumstances were different, I might have wanted to stroke his chest. “Who are you?” he demanded when I approached the cell, as though I were the one behind bars, and had requested an audience with him.

“I am Ariadne,” I said, “daughter of Minos, princess of Crete.”

“I am Theseus, son of Aegeus, prince of Athens,” he returned.

Prince of Athens. That explained his noble bearing and proud mien, not to mention his handsome features… and yet… “There is no way the King of Athens would have sent his own son to be fed to the Minotaur,” I said. “Why are you really here?”

“I said, didn’t I? I’m here to slay the Minotaur. I volunteered as tribute.” He smirked. “I promised my father that I would return alive. No more of our people will be sacrificed to the monster!”

“You speak with a lot of confidence for someone who is currently in a prison cell,” I said. “What are you going to do, Theseus? Do you have a plan?”

“Of course I have a plan!” he said, a little defensively. “I am going to break out of this cell. And then I will conquer the Labyrinth—”

“How? You’ll be dead of starvation before you even reach the Minotaur, assuming he doesn’t find you first.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you taunting me?”

I leaned forward, looking directly into his eyes. “No. I was actually going to offer to help you. I know the Labyrinth. I go into it all the time.”

“No, you don’t. You’re trying to get me to sleep with you. Or trying to deceive me on behalf of Minos.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t find anything to say in response to that. For a moment I just stared at him. Was he always this self-assured, even in the worst of circumstances? If he wanted to sleep with me, I certainly wouldn’t complain, but why would he assume that I would deceive him? Well, perhaps it was his right to be suspicious, in a strange land where he was kept as a prisoner. “I… no,” I finally replied. “I’m being serious. I’m here to help you.”

“Why, then?”

“I think it is very noble of you to want to save the other Athenians, and I agree that no more innocent lives should be lost.”

He smiled slightly, but still looked suspicious. “You have no loyalty to your father?”

“My father is cruel and selfish. Why else do you think my mother gave birth to a monster, anyway?”

“The monster is your brother? What was his father, a bull?”

“Yes.”

That seemed to have stunned him into silence. I felt some satisfaction at that. “Listen to me. Without my help, you will not get through the Labyrinth. If you want to kill the Minotaur, you need me.”

“What’s the catch?” he asked. “You’re going to want something in return, aren’t you? What?”

“Take me off this accursed rock,” I said. “I am sick of Crete, I’m sick of my father, and I don’t want to have to put up with whatever punishment he might give me for helping you.”

“Well, you are a princess, and I suppose you would make a fine bride for me.”

My heart leapt at those words, and I felt myself blushing. Perhaps I should have known better. “Really? You would marry me?”

“If you help me to slay the Minotaur, then yes, I will marry you.”

“Deal.”

Theseus remained in my thoughts from that point onward. When I closed my eyes, I saw his face, and I imagined the feel of his skin. I’d never seen a man like him before, and oh, if I married him… would I be happy? Happier than I was here, at least? He seemed like the kind of man that Phaedra and I dreamed we would marry as young girls — strong, brave, handsome, and willing to put himself on the line for the sake of his people. All such admirable qualities.

I returned to Theseus when the prisoners were locked into the Labyrinth’s abyssal maw. “Everyone else, stay back!” he ordered, as though he were directing troops. “I will go into the Labyrinth and kill the Minotaur. Stay here, and you will be safe.” He suddenly turned to me. “What have you brought to help me?”

I held out a humble ball of yarn. “This.”

He took it from my hand and raised an eyebrow at it, looking as though he might throw it into the dark. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Daedalus gave it to me when I first started exploring the Labyrinth.”

“Daedalus? I’ve heard of Daedalus. He is supposed to be the most brilliant architect in the world, right?”

“He built this Labyrinth, and he gave me the yarn. All you have to do is tie the end here and carry it through the maze. Then you can follow it back out.”

Theseus looked impressed. “He must be a genius to have thought of something like that!”

He may have been a genius, but I was still intelligent enough to figure it out on my own. All Daedalus had done was hand me the ball of yarn, and I immediately understood what I was meant to do with it. But I didn’t bother correcting Theseus. “Do you have a weapon?”

“No,” said Theseus. “I’m not worried. I’ll kill the beast with my bare hands.”

I blinked at him, dumbfounded. I suppose if anyone could do it, he could; he was almost as musclebound as the bull-man. But still. Only an extremely impressive hero with divine lineage could hope to kill a monster bare-handed, that or a total idiot. “You are going to die.”

“Nonsense!” He smiled. “Haven’t died yet! And I have faced many deadly trials before.”

I smiled back. “I’m sure you have, but, well, it’s your funeral.”

“Do you want this monster dead, or not?” he demanded.

“Woah, I wasn’t being serious, I…” To be asked that question point-blank was unsettling. It threw my whole dilemma into focus. But seeing the terrified faces of the other tributes huddled naked in the entrance to the Labyrinth gave me my answer. “Yes.”

“I shall go then.” He tied the yarn to the gate and strode with it into the dark. I admired his confidence, even if the odds were against him. He turned the first corner, and was gone. I stared into the darkness for a moment.

One of the girls gripped the hem of my dress. “Please,” she whispered. “Please help us, my lady. We did nothing to be here. If he dies, will you help us escape?”

I didn’t look at her. I kept staring into the Labyrinth’s depths. “I will do what I can,” I said slowly. Then I followed Theseus. I heard her gasp behind me, as if her last hope had just walked away.

I overtook Theseus quickly. He was moving slowly, blindly hitting walls and getting disoriented by the serpentine turns. He jumped when he heard me behind him, turned on his heel and braced for attack, staring me down with the intensity of a bull about to charge. Then he softened. “Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here? I don’t need your help.”

“I know this place better than you do,” I said matter-of-factly.

He huffed in response. “Get back to the entrance. The Minotaur could arrive at any moment.”

I walked ahead of him. “I know. Every time I explore the Labyrinth, I risk death.”

“Why would you explore this place?” he asked, following me. “What could it possibly offer a girl like you?”

“Peace. Solitude. Time away from my father.”

“This Labyrinth is maddening!” His growing frustration echoed off the walls. “How are you not mad? Perhaps you are mad, with the things you say.”

“I’ve never considered that I might be mad.”

“Only if you were mad would you willingly choose to be in this dark prison.”

“You willingly chose to be here.”

He had no response. We walked in silence for a while, dragging the thread behind us. It was almost impossible to see the thread in the dark. I could tell that Theseus was starting to get agitated. The twining paths of the Labyrinth must be making him feel like we were making no progress. The grim silence and high stone walls made us feel completely cut off from the outside world, like there was no world at all beyond the Labyrinth. “Do you think this is what Hades is like?” he asked. “A deep cavern, under the earth, where there is nothing to do but walk endlessly?”

I couldn’t tell whether that was a sincere philosophical question, or whether he was asking indignantly. “I don’t know. The Fields of Asphodel are supposed to be open, and full of the white flowers… Not quite like this.”

“It makes no difference to me anyway. I will assuredly go to Elysium when I die, and it is the most agreeable part of Hades.”

If Hades is exactly like this, I thought, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. There are worse things than this.

Eventually, we passed the point where I usually turned back. I had never gotten this close to the center before. And then we heard it — the unmistakable sound of hooves. Cold terror gripped me. I did not expect to feel this afraid, especially not of my own brother, but the reality of the situation sank in. We were in a Labyrinth with a flesh-eating monster, and the exit was too far away for any chance of escape. Why did I follow him? Why did I think that was a good idea?

“Our quarry is upon us! You should leave,” said Theseus sternly. “The monster eats the maidens first, so I hear.”

The instinct to run left me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Suit yourself, but you will not be able to fight against the Minotaur.”

“You will protect me, will you?” Being with him felt safe, like he was a bodyguard.

“I will.” As soon as he said that, my fear was banished, and my confidence restored.

A few more turns, and we reached the center of the Labyrinth, a place I figured I’d never enter. In the gloom, I couldn’t actually see much, but I was able to see the hulking shape of my brother with his huge bull’s head and wicked-looking horns.

“There is the beast!” A light suddenly blazed to life beside me, and I cringed away from its brightness. It was a torch.

“Did you have that the whole time?”

“I was saving it!” He handed me the torch and the end of the yarn, and I took them, nonplussed. I saw the floor of the Labyrinth’s center, full of human bones. “Wait there, I will make swift work of this!” Theseus took a fighting stance, muscles tensed.

Asterion looked at me. I felt blind panic grip me, but he did not attack me. Perhaps he recognized me. He must have been familiar with my presence and voice by now, enough to know I wasn’t a threat. I stared into his black bull eyes. They were soft, not fiery and enraged. This was my brother. “Asterion… I’m so sorry, Asterion.”

“What are you doing? Get back!”

Theseus’ yell attracted Asterion’s attention. He roared and rushed forward with his powerful legs, horns lowered and ready to gore him to death. Theseus grabbed Asterion’s horns and hurled himself up onto the Minotaur’s back, holding him in a chokehold with both arms. “I shall send you to the pit of Tartarus, fiend!” Asterion thrashed and bucked and slammed Theseus against the wall, but soon enough, it was over. Theseus had strangled the Minotaur. Asterion lay dead.

Theseus picked himself up, looking exhausted but triumphant. “Victory! No Athenians will die today, or ever! This monster will never claim another human life!” He grinned at me. “See, I told you I could do it with my bare hands!”

I stared at the mass of Asterion’s body. “I killed my brother…”

“Nonsense!” Theseus took the torch back from me. The bones crunched under his feet as he walked. “It is hardly your fault that you are the sister of a beast. We have done a good and heroic thing today. Look, look at the bones! Why are you crying, Ariadne?”

I suddenly looked at him instead of the Minotaur’s corpse. I don’t think he’d said my name before. Even in the dim torchlight, he still looked bright, with clear eyes and golden hair and bronze skin slick with sweat. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Ariadne.” He smiled at me. “Thank you. Together we have saved many lives.”

He kissed me, and the torch went out.

The following events were a blur. After we had successfully followed the thread out of the Labyrinth, Theseus triumphantly announced to my father that the Minotaur was dead, and demanded me and my sister as prizes. My father was furious — of course he was. He had essentially just lost all of his children, and all because one had died in Athens before I was old enough to remember. I, however, was elated, and so was Phaedra. Phaedra was as eager to leave Crete as I was, and she seemed just as taken with Theseus’ handsomeness. She didn’t seem distressed that Asterion was dead, and why would she? The grateful Athenians went back to their ship, many of them sobbing with relief. I didn’t look at my father as I followed Theseus to the ship. I never wanted to look at him again. We passed by Talos, and I left Knossos and the Labyrinth behind me.

Crete faded into the horizon, and before me was sunshine and new possibilities. Theseus glowed with triumph and pride, smiling at me and kissing me when he announced to the other Athenians that he would marry me, and that I would become their queen. They fell to their knees and showered me and Theseus with gratitude for having saved their lives. I felt almost as if I were a goddess. Wine flowed freely in celebration, and I took more joy in it than I had in a long time.

It did not last long. Soon after the first few hours I was, if possible, even more miserable on Theseus’ ship than I had been in Knossos. I quickly became tired of his boasts about how he had strangled the beast, without crediting me at all, or so much as mentioning the ball of yarn, even though the other Athenians had seen me give it to him and seen me follow him into the Labyrinth. Every time he told the story, it got further from the truth, and emphasized his own heroism over mine. Is this how it would be when I was queen? No matter what I did, I’d be shunted to the side? Then, Theseus seemed to be doting on Phaedra. She usually attracted more attention. She was prettier than me. She had blond hair that shined in the sunlight and the bright eyes of our mother Pasiphae, the daughter of Helios. My hair and eyes were dark, like the Labyrinth.

I left the celebration, finding a quiet spot on deck. I sat by the edge of the ship, staring out into the open waves and trying not to think about Asterion, but the image of him lying dead in the torchlight haunted me. “Are you okay, Ariadne?” Phaedra asked me. “What is wrong? We are finally out of there, all thanks to you! No more Minotaur, no more tributes having to die, no more Father… We will have a new life in Athens.” I stayed silent. “You look despondent. Something’s wrong.”

I looked up into her eyes. “It’s like you said, Phaedra. Asterion is dead.”

“Do you… mourn him?”

“He was our brother, and I killed him!”

“Theseus killed him! You did nothing!” I knew that she meant to reassure me, but it touched a raw nerve.

“He would not have if I hadn’t led him straight to the center of the Labyrinth!”

“Ariadne…” Phaedra put her hand on my shoulder. “You… you’re… you’ll be okay. You are just a little bit disoriented.” She left me alone.

I looked at the Athenians, who laughed and danced and celebrated their lives. I didn’t feel like dancing. I already missed the Labyrinth. My guilt drew my thoughts back to Knossos. I wanted to hide in the Labyrinth forever, like Asterion had, or else throw myself into the sea for my guilt. The brightness of the waves was glaring compared to the soothing darkness of the Labyrinth.

Theseus approached me from behind. He had been ignoring me until now, maybe because I was so sorrowful. I could feel that he was angry at me, and my skin crawled, but I didn’t turn. “What cause do you have to weep, Ariadne? You should be happy!” he said.

“I am sorry, Theseus. Part of me still mourns for my brother.”

“What is the matter with you? All you have done is sit and stare at the water! If you loved that Labyrinth so much, perhaps you should have stayed there! Now please, put this sorrow behind you. You have no cause for it.” He sighed, softening. “When we arrive in Athens, we shall marry, and there will be much rejoicing.”

“Leave me alone.” The bitterness in my voice rang louder than I’d intended.

He scowled at me.“You are joyless, passionless, and thankless,” he spat, and stalked off. The word useless went unsaid; I could tell he was reconsidering making me his wife.

“Theseus, wait!” I yelled, suddenly sounding desperate.

I stood up, and he turned back to look at me, and I felt as if I were naked under his gaze and that of the others on the ship, which had all quieted and turned in my direction. His eyes were cold, and his nostrils flared just as Asterion’s had. “What, Ariadne? You have shown me neither gratitude nor pleasure, you have not acted like a princess. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Shamed, I said nothing. I sat back down. Then, as he was about to turn away again, I suddenly found my voice. “Why are you being cruel?”

“I am not being cruel. You are being difficult.”

By the time we reached Naxos, I was feeling heartbroken as well as grief-stricken. Theseus was giving me the silent treatment. I think he expected me to come running to him begging for forgiveness. We stopped on the island to rest, primarily because Theseus had dreamt that he would stop here during his homecoming.

I took off my sandals and walked along the edge of the surf to clear my thoughts. The beach was bright and wide and open, the exact opposite of the Labyrinth. Even in the sand, I felt his heavy footsteps approaching behind me. “Ariadne, we need to talk.”

I continued to face away from him. “What?”

“Ariadne, I find your attitude disagreeable.”

I turned on my heel to face him, planting myself in the sand. “I’ve found your attitude disagreeable! All you have done since we left Crete is boast about your heroics, and you’ve barely given me any credit—”

“Credit! You want credit for having slain it, when all you have done is cry over the hideous thing?”

The disdain in his voice stung me like arrows. “You don’t care at all for me or my feelings, do you?”

“If you were to become my queen, I would expect better behavior from you.” He sounded like he was lecturing a child.

“Well… I don’t want to be your queen! You are almost as bad as my father!”

“Good. I have already decided to take your sister Phaedra as my bride instead.” I didn’t reply. “You may still return with us to Athens, but we will have to make other arrangements for you.”

Forget Athens. I didn’t want Theseus to do anything for me. “Oh, forgive me for having been such a disappointment to you! Go ahead, go back to Athens and marry my sister! By Zeus! I’ve had enough of you!”

And I ran. I turned away from Theseus and ran down the beach until my legs gave out, falling in the sand to sulk and wonder where it all went wrong. I regretted having ever met Theseus, or helped him to kill my brother. If I could undo it all, I would. No. Then innocent people would have died. Oh, gods, why am I so wretched?

And then, as I was just beginning to calm down, I saw that the ship was sailing away over the waves. I was stranded on the island. Despair and panic crashed down upon me. Oh gods, gods, why? Had I somehow been forgotten about, or left behind on purpose? Had Theseus doomed me to die? “CURSE you, Theseus!” I screamed at the distant ship. I watched it go until it disappeared over the horizon. I could do nothing but hopelessly stare at the wine-dark sea as the sun set.

“Excuse me, why are you crying?”

I had been sitting with my head in my arms, weeping despondently, and I was startled by the sudden voice, soft though it was. I was certain the island was deserted, but now, a young man stood before me. He was silhouetted against the sky, the sun shining behind his head like a halo. Where had he come from? I hadn’t heard him come. It was though he’d simply stepped out of the sea.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and my voice sounded cracked from crying. “I thought I was alone.”

“May I sit with you?” the man asked. “You look like you could use a drink, something to soothe you, hm?”

“Yes… yes, thank you.”

He sat down in the sand next to me, languidly stretching his legs out in front of him like he was sitting on the plushest couch. With the sunlight on him, I could see him properly — he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. He easily put Theseus to shame. His eyes were leafy green, warm and kind. He was lithe, and his skin looked as pale and smooth as a girl’s, and his lips looked so soft. I couldn’t place the color of his hair — it seemed to be dark brown, but it could have been as dark as the Styx, and when the sun caught it, it looked honey-gold. It fell over his shoulders in loose curls. He wore nothing but a fine purple cloak draped over one shoulder, a golden leopard skin around his waist, and a wreath of ivy on his head. His cheeks were flushed, and he had a bright, easy smile. He was so lovely, so breathtaking, it almost hurt to look at him. With delicate hands, he offered me a kylix brimming with wine. “Please, tell me what has made you so upset.”

I blinked at the kylix, and the leopard skin, and the ivy in his hair. “Are you… a Bacchant?” I’d heard of them. They worshipped a mad and savage god with drunken orgies in the woods, and were said to be able to rip animals or even people limb-from-limb in their frenzy. Not unlike Asterion, I suppose.

He flashed a devious smile. “Maaaaybe.”

I took the kylix and drank deeply. The wine was sweet, and somehow, I felt immediately calmer. Slowly, amid my lingering sobs, I told the story — about Asterion, and my father, and the tributes, how I’d decided to help Theseus, how we’d found our way through the Labyrinth, how Theseus had killed Asterion, how Theseus had been so heartless, and how he had apparently left me to die on a deserted island. By the time I finished talking, the kylix was empty.

“How do you feel now?” he asked me.

“Better… I think. But I’m still devastated, and… guilty. My brother’s death… it was really my fault, and I don’t know if I did the right thing or not. Do you think it’s wrong for me to grieve for my brother? I mean… he was a monster…”

“No. I don’t think it’s wrong. It is perfectly understandable that you would mourn your brother.”

“If I had let the Athenians die, I would have mourned for them, too.” I sighed.

“Yes. There must be blood; one sacrifice was traded for another, Asterion, the worthy bull. It is okay to grieve, for as long as you need to, but do not wallow in despair.”

“I tend to do that. I don’t remember the last time I was completely happy. I thought Theseus would make me happy, but… then… I wish I had my Labyrinth back! It was at least soothing down there.”

“It pains me to see people sad,” he said. He handed me the kylix again, and it was once again full of wine. I hadn’t seen him fill it. “Pleasure is a state of mind. The best way to rid yourself of sadness is to focus on things that make you happy. There is always something to take pleasure in! Like the beauty of the sunset, or the sound of the lapping waves. Or wine!”

“Not when you are abandoned to die, with no way off the island,” I said. “How did you get here, anyway? I don’t see a boat.”

“I have my ways,” he said cryptically, with that same mischievous smile. That smile and the teasing sparkle in his eyes were so adorable. His beauty is something to take pleasure in, I suddenly thought, and his company, and kindness…

I took another draught of the wine. “Why are the gods so cruel to me?” I murmured, more to myself than to him.

“The gods are not cruel to you.” He stated it with complete confidence, as though it were an undeniable fact, not as though he were trying to convince me.

“It certainly seems that way,” I replied.

“Life can often seem that way, but then, it gets better, and you will find that the gods favor you,” he said.

“Well… I suppose that must be true, if handsome strangers pop out of nowhere to comfort women.”

He beamed. “Exactly!” He took the kylix back from me, threw his head back, and drained about half of it in one gulp. “You know, I was stranded on a desert island like this one once.”

“Wait, what? You were?”

“Yes! It was a long time ago now, but I was just as pretty back then, and just as fond of wearing purple. Purple is the best color, you know.” He winked. “Anyway, so I was lying asleep on a beach and—” he took another swig of the wine, “a pirate ship rows by…”

“Are you drunk?”

“Always, darling!” That roguish grin of his was really starting to win me over. “Anyway, the pirates saw me sleeping on the beach, saw how pretty I was and saw my fine purple robes, and thought I was a prince. Well. They weren’t wrong… I technically am a prince of Thebes, on my mother’s side.” He laughed like he had just told the most hilarious joke and had another sip of the wine. The amount of wine in the kylix never seemed to get any lower.

“Does that mean… you’re a bastard?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yes, yes it does! I’m such a bastard. I mean… I was born out of wedlock. And my father’s wife, oooh, she hates me.” Another sip of the wine. “Never get on her bad side if you can help it.” He pointed at me as if this was the most important information I could ever learn, and I laughed. “She can’t touch me now, but she drove me mad when I was younger. Literally. Anyway, so these pirates kidnapped me. Thought I’d make a damn cute catamite, and I certainly would, but that’s beside the point. You don’t and kidnap boys no matter how pretty they are. I tried to tell my dad that, but it didn’t go over well.” Another sip of the wine.

“You are slender, but I bet you could take Theseus in a drinking contest.”

“Oh, I could take aaaaaanyone in a drinking contest! Never lost one yet!” His face was glowing, not just with blush from the wine but also with infectious joy. I slowly forgot about my misfortunes as I listened to his story. “So they tried to tie me to the ship’s mast, but found they couldn’t do it. I only tolerate bondage on my own terms. And then…” There was suddenly a mad gleam in his green eyes. “I covered their ship in grapevines, and ivy, and flowers, and the delicious smell of wine. I can’t imagine why such delightful things frightened them so. But I thought I’d scare them more, see, because it was funny. So I turned into a lion! And they flung themselves overboard in fear!” He laughed, and his laugh sounded as musical as flutes on a clear morning, but it had a maddened edge to it. “But I pitied them, y’know?” he continued. “Just as you pity your brother. So I changed them into dolphins. So they wouldn’t drown.”

“You changed… you turned into… did… did your god give you those powers? Or… are you just… really… drunk?” But I knew. I think that intuitively, I knew the whole time.

“Easy,” he said, once again raising the bottomless kylix to his lips with that knowing smile. “I’m really drunk.”

At this, I burst out laughing, and my laugh sounded almost unfamiliar to my own ears. I felt light, carefree, replenished. And then it sank in, that I was speaking to a god. I hastily knelt, and dropped my head before him, although he was still sitting next to me. “Lord Dionysus! Son of Zeus! Lord, lord, thank you for coming to me, for talking to me, for relieving me of my pain, for freeing me from my suffering…”

“You’re welcome, Ariadne.” He lifted my face, so that I was staring up into his eyes, which were now vivid reddish-purple, the color of ripe grapes. A richly purple aura surrounded him, proclaiming his divinity. In his hand was his staff, a fennel stalk topped with a pinecone that dripped with honey, twined with ivy and purple ribbons. And he had horns, bull’s horns just like my brother’s, magnificent and deadly sharp. They curved up above his brow, as much his crown as the wreath of ivy in his hair. The imposing horns created a striking contrast with his delicate features, but they looked right, somehow. Like this was how he was supposed to look.

I didn’t know what to say. My mind had gone suddenly blank. “I’ve never known great Dionysus to have horns,” I blurted.

“Not many get to see them,” he said, his voice suddenly slow and solemn. “Ariadne, will you dance with me?”

Whatever I had expected him to say, it was not that. “Wh—what?”

“Dance with me!” He stood up and twirled off across the beach. His hair floated around his shoulders, the ribbons on his thyrsus arced through the air like the rainbow, and his expression was one of elation. He screamed in ecstasy, and it was an inhuman sound, like the crowing of some unearthly bird. At that, the air filled with cacophonous music — flutes, drums, cymbals, rattles, castanets.

A command echoed inside my head. No, not a command — a compulsion: DANCE! DANCE!

So I danced with the bull-horned god. “Dancing” barely even begins to describe what I was doing. I was filled with an overwhelming, indescribable feeling, like I didn’t fit in my own skin. Like I was about to be lifted out of my own shoulders! I moved like my body was doing everything it could to express this ineffable thing inside me that was so much bigger than me. I spun, I leapt, I ran, I stamped my feet in the sand, I moved wherever the feeling took me. It burned like fire. And Dionysus was all I could perceive. I screamed with both intense rapture and pure, genuine worship: “EUOI! EUOI! EUOI!”

I met his eyes, and there I saw all the raw ferocity of a bull or a great cat, as well as chaos and lust and debauchery and pure mania. All the forces strong enough to tear a person apart! I desperately thirsted for something I could not name. It was more than wine, more than flesh, more than blood. Dionysus took me in his arms, and kissed me on the lips. Passion overtook me.

Maybe I fainted in exhilaration, or maybe I was simply too drunk to remember. All I know was that I was eventually awakened by the sunrise and the sound of lapping waves. And Dionysus… was still there. He hadn’t disappeared into the night, he was still sleeping there in the sand, looking blissful and alluring in his sleep. His tousled curls tumbled over the sand, his soft hand was upturned beside his head, and his lips were parted invitingly. He lay on his purple cloak, and was using the leopard pelt like a blanket, though it was only carelessly draped over his waist.

“Lord… thank you for not leaving me,” I whispered.

His long eyelashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened, once again appearing vine-green. “Mmmm… sleep well?”

“Yes.” I desperately wanted to kiss him, and the seductive look in his eyes tempted me. “May I… touch you?”

“Darling, you may touch me anywhere you like,” he purred. Ravenously, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my chest to his, and our lips met. He still tasted like wine, and I drank him in the way I would wine. We lay there for a moment, entangled in each other’s arms like grape and ivy vines, idly caressing each other’s skin and hair.

“M’lord…” I whispered, “perhaps it might be impertinent to ask, but… what am I going to do now? I can’t go home. I don’t really want to go to Athens. And I still have no way off this island.”

“Why, Ariadne,” he gave me a teasing smile. “If I may be so bold, I hoped you would join me! In fact… I hope you might marry me.”

I was so taken aback by this that I immediately sat up. “You… you’re serious? Marry you?” I knew that gods frequently took mortal lovers, but this was unimaginable. “Actually marry you?”

“Yes, Ariadne. I love you.” He said it with the same sweetness and sincerity that he initially approached me with. Theseus had said no such thing. “You are not destined to become queen of Athens, but perhaps you might be my queen, if you are willing.”

I burst into tears, but they weren’t tears of sadness this time. They were tears of overwhelm, the same kind of overflowing sensation that I’d felt while dancing. “You love me?”

“I am absolutely besotted, my darling! I have had many lovers, but I had not fallen so madly in love since Ampelos, my first love, my darling vine.” A grapevine appeared between his fingers and twined up his arm. “Perhaps something in me is inclined towards mortals over gods, which is understandable, given my parentage. But, that should be no problem. I will bring you to Olympus, and love you for all of time.”

“How… why me?” I sputtered. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“Ariadne, you are letting your human mind interfere, and convince you that you are not worthy to be in my presence. Did you feel unworthy last night, while we were dancing?”

“No… I felt… there was no such thing.”

“Ariadne, do you love me?”

I struggled to find any word that could properly describe how I felt about him. “You are… utterly intoxicating.”

He giggled like a shy maiden. “I get that a lot. And, if you could be worthy of having me as a husband, would you have me?”

Yes. My body and soul ached and burned with wanting. And he made me extraordinarily happy! I’d never dared to believe a god would love me enough to marry me, but that disbelief was only getting in my way.

He looked me dead in the eyes. I nearly flinched away from the intensity of his gaze, and the shimmering madness behind it. “You are more than you realize, Ariadne, guide in the dark, guardian of the gates of initiation. You are intelligent and witty and brave, and you fear no darkness or madness or savagery, do you? You faced them all in the Labyrinth. You would make an excellent addition to my thiasus, even if you decide not to marry me. Ariadne, the most holy and pure, Lady of the Labyrinth.” His words reverberated deep in the labyrinthine pathways of my own mind and soul, like he had revealed an ancient truth that I had known once, but forgotten.

“The Labyrinth is a holy place, of contemplation and transformation. Isn’t it? Not of death.”

He smiled that gorgeous, winning smile again. “Yes! You understand! And even where there is death, it is not absolute.” His eyes shone with feverish excitement. “Oh, I have so much to teach you!”

“Lord Dionysus, I would be honored beyond imagining if I were to become your wife.”

“So is that a yes? You will marry me?”

Something about him felt right in a way that I could not put words to, like the Fates had done all they could to bring me to this moment. This god loved me, more than the other gods love their conquests, more than I could comprehend. “Yes! I will marry you!”

At that, a cool wind blew across the island, swirling his dark hair around his face and making all the vegetation appear to shimmer. It was like the island itself was affirming my decision. “Then, Ariadne, we shall rule the revel together! In honor of our engagement…” A magnificent diadem appeared in his hands, sparkling with seven gemstones like stars. He placed it on my head, and gave me a warm kiss on my lips. “Ariadne, my bride, may you never thirst. May your lusts never go unsatisfied. May your heart always be light and joyful.”

“Thank you. Thank you, m’lord!”

“You can stop calling me that. If we are to be married, you can simply call me by my name. Or, call me what pleases you. Now, come with me!” He stood, offering me his hand. “Unless you would rather spend some more alone time together, I should finally take you off this island! I will take you home to Nysa, or perhaps to Arcadia, and we will have to throw the most spectacular bacchanal in celebration of our marriage!”

“How will we travel?”

He led me down the beach like a child eager to show something to their parent, and gestured toward a golden chariot drawn by two gigantic panthers. The chariot itself was decorated in images of swirling grapevines and serpents and satyrs making love, and the cats’ pelts gleamed. “Oh, gods… I mean… wow. Does it move over water?”

“It flies, silly!” He stood inside it and beckoned to me. “These cats can run on the wind. Hermes gave them to me.”

I climbed into the chariot and held on for dear life as the panthers bounded into the air with great strides. Soon the chariot was blazing through the bright air, and Naxos was far behind us. Dionysus laughed into the wind, which blew his long hair back from his face. As radiant as he was, I was more than a little terrified of speeding through the air high above the sea in a chariot, and felt like I would fall off at any second, although not even my diadem was dislodged from my head.

“You look terror-stricken, Ariadne. Would you like me to tell you another amusing story? That seems to have cheered you up the last time!”

“That depends on whether you can drive a chariot and get incredibly drunk at the same time.”

He laughed uproariously. “Oh, I love you so much! I can do anything and get incredibly drunk, if you were wondering. So, anyway, the story… Mortals have mixed opinions of me. Most love my parties and stories and love my wine, but they seem a bit put off by the madness and violence and lust it brings out in them… Not sure why, it’s not as though all of that wasn’t there to begin with… Mortal kings do not like this, and some of them can be quite unkind to my worshippers, testing the limits of my mercy… but one of them allowed my mentor, Silenus, to sleep in his garden. So kind of him! So of course I offered him any reward he might wish for, and… he wished that everything he touched would turn to gold.”

“Ooh. Let me guess, it backfired?”

“Oh, did it backfire! His food turned to gold and he nearly starved, and even his daughter turned to gold! Hardly my fault, of course. I promised to give him what he asked for, and I did, he just happened to be an idiot. He had the chance to wish for anything in the world, and he chose something as shallow and pointless as gold. Not to mention, he clearly had never heard of inflation, which makes me worry about his kingdom’s economy. Oh, well. He learned, and I changed everything back. I always let humans indulge themselves, but I am not a god of excess. Either they are satisfied by their pleasures, or they learn their lesson fast. The moral of the story: Know your tolerance. Also, if you want to turn things to gold, you have to do it the hard way. Hermes and I were just discussing how to turn lead to gold, in fact…”

His soothing voice and hilarious tales put me at ease, until we were traveling over beautiful mountains and verdant valleys. I had never seen mainland Greece, but the view of it from the flying chariot was incredible. I was no longer afraid of falling. As we flew, I felt as if the wind stripped me of the cares and sorrows of my former life. Dionysus had set me free. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me as the chariot descended into the lush, hidden valley where a throng of Maenads and satyrs waited to welcome home their lord and his queen.

Dionysus helped me out of the chariot, and I stood before the thiasus, their maddened eyes all turned upon me. “I am the bride of Dionysus,” I proclaimed. “I am Ariadne of the Labyrinth.”

#greek mythology #greek myths #greek myth retellings #greek mythology retellings #creative writing #dionysus #city dionysia #dionysus greek god #dionysus greek mythology #dionysos #dionysus devotion #dionysus devotee #dionysus deity #ariadne #ariadne and dionysus #lady of the labyrinth #labyrinth #labyrinth of crete #the minotaur #theseus and the minotaur #theseus #asterion #minotaur #dionysus x ariadne #gothic aesthetic

[jamesholden]

okay like i wasn’t going to do this because i know someone might be like “BUT SHAN DIDN’T YOU SAY YOU WOULD WRITE A LONG META ABOUT THE HOLDEN-MARCO CONNECTION” and yes dear readers i will but i have a thought in my head and it needs to come out or i will explode SO

let’s look at this scene i am still thinking about almost 3 years later from The Expanse S3, when Holden is pleading with Ashford to not choose violence but to stand down so the Ring Station won’t destroy humanity with Naomi just behind him. When Holden finishes his speech, Ashford orders his men to shoot them, and we get this shot

Holden’s first instinct is to pull Naomi behind him. you can see him reaching back and pushing her. and it brings me to what Naomi said to Filip on the Pella:

“I know he wouldn’t die for you. But he would let you die for him.”

this is like a big neon sign of a difference between Holden and Marco. Because Holden WOULD die for Naomi, for all of them, hell even for humanity. He’s tried. Even here, where his doing this won’t necessarily save her life if they’re shot at enough, but it gives her a better chance if he shields her body with his own. He’s literally putting himself between her and the guns. If he can keep Naomi from dying for him or for his fight, he will. He’ll take the blows because not only is that what he does as a captain, but because he wants to give her a chance to not die with him or for him.

Naomi’s death is the absolute last thing he wants, especially if it’s his fault or because of his actions, which is something Steven really telegraphs before they come down this hallway with the way he looks at Dom and the gun before delivering the “i love you” and surrendering. you can SEE the apology and regret that he’s brought her here because he loves her and he doesn’t want this for her. 

I feel like there’s more to be said about her choosing to follow him down the hallway knowing he would probably be shot and her grabbing onto his sleeve as he pulls her behind him so he’ll take the brunt of the bullets for her but I am out of words and i can’t figure out the best way to say them.

basically like I think this is the most fitting scene to illustrate Naomi’s point to Filip about the difference between being with and following people who would be willing to die for you, and giving your absolute love and allegiance to those who would expect it of you but wouldn’t do the same for you. 

Marco literally would never, and in fact says that if he had to kill Naomi to get Filip on his side, it would still be her fault. She’s seen how Marco pulls people in, makes loyal followers of them, and expects them to make sacrifices for him while he sacrifices nothing of his own. Seen how he will gaslight, hurt, punish people for questioning him or going against him. 

There’s also something to be said about dying for a cause vs dying for a man, and Naomi has seen that Marco conflates “the cause” with “his cause/his ascension”. Marco expects them to die for HIM and HIS GOALS, not just “in defense of the Belt”, not just for Belters. For himself. Including his own son, and those his son cares about. She doesn’t want that for her son. She wants him to find people who really love him completely, who would love him and live and die for him, like she found with the Roci crew. People who are worth fighting with, and worth fighting for, because they don’t expect him to make the ultimate sacrifice for them.

Because they WOULDN’T want him to, just like Holden wouldn’t want for her.

this has been another incoherent shannon rant thank you good night

#the expanse #naomi nagata #james holden #marco inaros #expanse spoilers #jim holden

[lastxviolet]

Madripoor is for Lovers (Zemo x F!Reader) - Ch. 2

Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?

Warnings: 18+ / eventual smut / kidnapping

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774

The plane completed its descent, jolting you awake and away from the dream of what happened next.

His hands inside your dress and the moment in the evening that stopped feeling like an act.

“We are here,” he confirmed, gripping your hand and leading you from the plane.

The air wasn’t cold anymore and smelled like spring. It was May in the states and DC had felt the same so it was possible that you were still in the northern hemisphere. The United States and Canada weren’t options for the criminal, neither was Germany.

Italy?

He spoke to the driver in German and although you recognized the words, you had no clue what they meant. A short drive later and the car stopped. He untied the blindfold and you took in the sight of a lone chateau at the end of a lavish driveway. He opened the door and motioned for you to follow.

“No gun,” you questioned, eyeing his relaxed demeanor.

He smiled. Although you were angry and the sun was too bright, you were glad to finally be able to see something again.

“Not necessary,” he nodded at the rolling hills around them. “Where would you run?”

You glared at him, letting him know that this was still against your will and that any familiarity you’d had, was gone.

“You’re very confident that I prefer your company over death,” you hissed, eyeing the wilderness.

“You’ve come with me this far.”

Your eyes met his. It was impossible to know what he was thinking beneath the stern exterior.

“You could’ve screamed for your comrades,” he shrugged.

“There was a gun aimed at my temple.”

“Or jumped out of the plane.”

Again, you glared at him. If looks could kill.

“This way,” he said, clearing his throat. “Please.”

You followed him, debating if you could make it to the car or even out of the compound before Zemo shot you or caught up.

The terrain was unfamiliar, and now you were in a foreign country, alone and uncounted for.

Zemo slowed and matched your snail’s pace, signaling that it was time to hurry up. You moved slower despite his hand on your back and he clicked his tongue. You made the journey last as long as possible until there was no choice but to cross the threshold.

“Your room is up the stairs and to the right,” he said, eyes on your face.

You stormed up the wooden stairs, making each groan with your anger.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” he called after you.

You slammed your door in response. The wall shook and you half hoped it’d bring the whole house down, taking you and Zemo with it.

An hour later, you entered the small and intimate dining room. A round table sat in a nook surrounded by windows, looking out onto the cliff-like drop below. You didn’t even glance at the food before you. There was only Zemo, and convincing him to let you go.

“Is your room to your liking?”

You scoffed. “My cell is fine, thank you.”

Unfortunately, your warden was fond of conflict, and difficult people. The words only seemed to intrigue him further. His eyes danced over your face, glancing down towards the exposed skin on your chest and then up to your lips.

“They say a pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity,” he mused.

“I’m a pessimist because of intelligence,” you quoted.

His eyes twinkled again, he knew, as you did, that it came from an Italian philosopher. It was applicable but also, a guess.

He raised his glass towards you before finishing the quote. “But an optimist because of will.”

In true Zemo fashion, he neither confirmed nor denied your suspicion. You lifted your glass of red wine towards him with a scowl.

You ate in silence for a while, you, staring out the window, Zemo, eyeing you. You made it half an hour before the weight of his stare became unbearable.

“So what’s your game plan, with all this,” you asked, waving your fork to yourself and then to him and the house.

“Do not ask questions you already know the answer to,” he chided. “It is beneath you.”

“My life for your freedom.”

He sighed then, almost like he didn’t like that answer either. It was the right one, you both knew that but it looked like it pained him. Seeing that flicker of humanity hurt more than you wanted to admit. It'd be easier if the man beneath the mask wasn't real. It'd be easier if he'd been lying and there weren’t two versions of him. You wished that there wasn’t a charming and passionate man beneath the evil Baron facade, but there he was again.

“Prison is not an option for me,” he admitted, laying down his fork. “But I am sorry that it had to be you.”

You nodded and scoffed, rolling your eyes for good measure.

“I do hope to make you comfortable, in the meantime — ”

“Before you kill me,” you interrupted.

He clicked his tongue again and glared. It was the plan he orchestrated and yet, he didn’t seem to like it.

“I may not have to,” he corrected.

You laughed then, with little care for his strained expression. “Have you met the Dora Milage? They’ll go through whoever they need to, to avenge their king. They don’t know me nor do they care about me. You don’t have the winning hand that you think you do.”

“You are forgetting about your colleagues. They've lost one of their own. If not loyalty, then pride will make them come for you,” he corrected.

Again, you smiled at his miscalculation. “I’m a foot soldier, not an avenger; not a super soldier; not one of them.”

"There is no such thing as small people, only small — ”

“Great,” you bellowed. “More wisdom! Your riddles and literature are useless now. You should’ve spent more time studying negotiations while you were incarcerated. Why didn’t you take Bucky? Or Caps little assistant? The US would’ve been at your feet for them back. You could’ve gotten a pardon and a reward!”

“I have no need for a reward,” he spat.

Your chest was heaving, out of anger, out of nerves, but most of all because the man in front of you was once again, impenetrable.

“Or a pardon from the great United States,” he continued, almost in a whisper.

Your eyes snapped to his but he avoided your gaze. He swirled his wine and stared off into space before inspecting you again. Something was missing, something that didn’t make sense.

The glimmer of humanity returned, despite his best efforts to hide it.

He’d been the main orchestrator of his outbreak from jail. He had private homes, apartments, transportation, weapons, cars, everything. He could run forever but he didn’t need you to do it. How was this life any different than what it would be if he was free? He watched you come to the realization and winced as it clicked into place.

“Why am I here,” you whispered, squinting.

He was silent and looked back to the window.

“Zemo,” you whispered. “Look at me.”

Funny enough, he followed the order.

His lips moved in silence but words didn’t escape.

“Why did you choose me?”

He pursed his lips in exasperation. It was no secret that he liked having the upper hand but he’d shown you all his cards a moment ago. You wondered why he hadn’t bothered to lie.

“I chose you because they wouldn’t — they won’t.”

He stood up and leaned against the sill, sipping wine in small swigs and staring out at the greenery.

“You would die for your country, Y/N,” he explained. “I find that admirable — heroic even but the problem, for me, is that they would let you.”

“Let me?” You repeated the phrase slowly, trying to understand the point.

He let out a huff. “If you caught a grenade in the name of bettering America, what would happen?”

You cocked your head in question. “I die? Maybe get a Purple Heart?”

“And then what? Would they bat an eye before rejoicing you — celebrating you and your sacrifice? Encouraging others to do the same in your name?” He paused and stared at you.

“No….no they wouldn’t because your death would mean that their wars are working. Another name in the long list of people that they were willing to gift to the god of war.”

“That sacrifice is what I signed up for — it’s my choice,” you explained, confused about where he was taking this.

He nodded and yet made no amends or clarification. The angry veins in his forehead receded and his gaze flitted away like he couldn’t bear to continue. You suddenly wondered if he'd even sent a ransom note, or whatever kidnappers do. The look in his eyes, told you no. The tone of his voice told you that he might not ever.

“Then you are doing your duty as a prisoner of war here, with me.”

He smiled and your anger dissipated. You lunged to grab onto any remaining frayed piece of it but there was nothing left. All those years of training and fighting, all to succumb to an evil man in a fitted turtleneck. You hardened your expression in an attempt to remain vexed.

“Your circumstance could be worse,” he concluded.

“And what of your circumstance?”

Silence ate up space between you. His gaze was set on you once again and then it seemed like you were the only two in this room, this home…the world.

“Better than it has been in a long time, schatzi,” he sighed.

“How so,” you asked, pushing for information.

He shrugged. “I am free and I am alone….with you.”

You winced and shook your head. “Don’t,” you whispered.

His brows furrowed. “In previous interactions, you did not seem to resent my…affections, Y/N.”

Butterflies ravaged your sternum, bringing memories of the night at Sharon’s with it. If it was different, if he had turned over a new leaf, then it would be easier to admit your feelings.

“Is this your version of affection? Holding me hostage?”

“Yes,” he breathed, coming to sit next to you, so close you thought he might touch you.

“Let’s not…talk about it,” you whispered, trying to push away the longing in your chest.

“I would like to,” he pushed.

All you could do was stare. The memories should've stayed in Madripoor. It should live in your brief collective drunk past. But you could see that it weighed on him as heavy as it did on you.

“That is fine,” he sighed. “I can talk if you will listen.”

You nodded once. The residual affections plagued you and it was impossible to keep your heartbeat at bay. The thought that he might feel the same was exhilarating and terrifying.

“It was you who assisted me with my escape plan. You who tracked Karli. You who guessed that I’d betray you on countless occasions. You who ensured that we evaded Captain America as long as we did. You who played your part so well that everyone in Madripoor thinks I have taken a wife.”

“Your point,” you hissed, deadpan.

“The super soldier solution does not increase intelligence, as you know. Nothing does. Even all the books in the world cannot alter what is already there. Either you are born with the glorious burden, or you live in ignorant bliss,” he explained.

He reached up and brushed his thumb along your forehead. “I know your burden, Y/N, because I share it.”

A stuttering breath left your chest. Compliments were the easiest forms of manipulation. You’d studied it, known it, resisted it in many years of training but this felt different. Everything he did and said, felt different.

“I do my job Zemo, that’s it.”

“You excel,” he corrected. “You make the rest of your colleagues look like newborns and yet they don’t...value you. Not like I do, Liebling.”

“If this is about the incident at Sharon’s,” you said, recognizing the nickname. “It was a mistake.”

He chuckled. “An optimist would call it a happy accident.”

“I’d call it life-ruining,” you said, trying to decipher the feelings of anger and something warm inside your chest. “If it led you to this.”

“I understand if you hate me,” he explained. “But you should know that living here with your hatred will be akin to breathing, for me, if it means you are safe. Natural and life-bringing.”

Your face gave nothing away but he’d stunned you.

“The evil baron is becoming less and less of a character.”

“They say hate itself is a version of love,” he mused, ignoring your words and staring at your lips.

The word knocked thought and common sense back into your head. This wasn’t love. This was ownership and selfishness. A myriad of terrible things that had tangled you both in this mess. It’d spurred from fascination and proximity but for love to grow, there has to be more. There has to be more good than bad. You looked around the home, owned by the man in front of you. Both beautiful, breathtaking even. But not enough to trade your freedom for.

“How convenient for someone with so many enemies,” you hissed.

His eyes squinted then and the Baron who commanded respect in Madripoor returned. There was this side of him too, you reminded yourself. And it seemed to be winning over the side who loved books and witty conversation.

“Are you my enemy, Y/N?”

For the first time, you didn’t know what to say. Before this, it wasn’t safe to call him anything other than an enemy but now? He ruined any chance of normalcy or redemption. The question lingered between you and it struck you how close he’d gotten. It would take almost nothing to start a repeat of the night at Sharon’s. But this was a different man.

“I didn’t have to be,” you breathed before breaking eye contact. You gave him no time to answer before fleeing back to your room.

#zemo smut #zemo fic #baron zemo fic #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #zemo x you

[atmilliways]

For the smut prompts... either 42 or 43 for hammertooth? (if you feel like it!)

I finished this a couple weeks ago but totally spaced on posting it, oops. I guess it counts towards Rare Pair Month, but I can't decide on which prompt it fits best. Whatever. Here it is!

Prompts: 42) “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.” ; 43) “Don’t you want to play with me?”

To Live For You

Magnus had always thought that falling in love was about being willing to die for someone. That’s what it had always been in movies and books, even when he got old enough for the kinds of entertainment that had sex in them too. So he’d always been sure that love wasn’t anything he was interested in, because he couldn’t imagine ever making that sacrifice for anyone.

~

“Maaaagnus. Ams you coming to beds?” Toki is sprawled across the sheets, easily taking up the entire mattress—a double, because he’d sworn up and down that a smaller bed is better for cuddling.

If it weren’t for the younger man’s complete and utter nakedness, Magnus would pretend to complain about there not being any room to join him. This sight never fails to leave him momentarily speechless.

~

Then he had almost died. Almost killed himself, in fact, but not for anyone.

Well. Maybe for himself. That instant when the veil had come off and he’d realized how massively, hugely, collossally he had fucked up had been really fucking harsh, and he hadn’t wanted to face it. Because teaming up with cannibals and murderers? Against actual, literal gods? After being so firm in his conviction that he’d had everything in hand and was totally in the right, he’d just figured there was no coming back.

~

Toki’s hands wander down his washboard abs, teasing. He wets his lips suggestively and then puts on an impressive pout. “Don’ts you wants to plays with me?”

His hands dip lower. Magnus, watching, swallows hard.

~

The thing was, he’d come back anyway—or been dragged back, really, and he’d deserved it for trying to duck out of the hard part.

Dying, it turned out, was easy. It was living that was hard.

~

“Yeah,” Magnus says, finding his voice again. It’s a touch hoarser than it was when he’d last left it. He has no idea what to do with his hands. “Yeah, I’m coming. You starting without me, sweetheart?”

Toki grins in that way he does, like Magnus has made his day just by noticing him. Of course I noticed you, Magnus thinks, have you seen you? It’s far more of a miracle that Toki wants his eyes (well, eye anyway) on him at all.

His gaze catches on the one scar on Toki’s front, the place where his knife had come out the other side. There’s a familiar clench in his gut at the sight—the one that reminds him that he doesn’t deserve this, and the only reason he gets it anyway is purely by the grace of this young god (retired).

It doesn’t send him into a downward spiral quite the way it used to, but the reminder is always there. A cautionary road marker: danger, do not swerve again.

~

And it had been very, very hard. Magnus didn’t like to think about the early days of his recovery. Between being dragged into some mess of apocalyptic prophecy and coming to terms with the horrible things he’d done, he’d been a menace to anyone who had come within snapping distance. With all the excuses stripped away, he’d stumbled through the painful process of really looking at himself and his choices.

~

“Well,” Toki says coyly, recapturing his full attention, “I thoughts if you were going to stays up longer over theres I’d just . . . gets off all by myself. . . .”

Magnus is watching his face now, but knows the exact moment Toki takes himself in hand from the way his breathing changes and eyelashes flutter. The show he’s putting on is having its intended effect; Magnus’ fingers twitch reflexively from muscle memory, and getting out of these jeans is an increasingly appealing idea.

He is not lucky. He has not earned this. But still, he has it, and he’s trying to be worthy.

~

It had taken years, and one world-wide close call with oblivion, barely averted, before Magnus dragged himself in front of Toki to offer amends. He hadn’t expected forgiveness, knowing that he didn’t deserve it—but, as his therapist had told him repeatedly until threatening finally to tattoo it on his arm just so it would finally stick, it wasn’t about deserving anything.

Saying it, apologizing, while looking into the eyes of someone he’d literally stabbed, kidnapped, and held in a basement, had been the final stab in the gut that had really, really driven it home. Everything he’d done laid out before him, laid bare in his own eyes while the ultimate figure of accountability watched him unpack it all, piece by fucking piece. Magnus had done it because he’d earned the pain of it, and afterwards Toki had touched him on the shoulder and said three words that had dragged him back to life.

I forgives you.

~

“You’re such a fucking flirt,” Magnus mutters, grinning. He’s already fumbling with his belt because, as far as he’s concerned, what Toki wants Toki gets. Once it’s undone he gets his pants, underwear, and boots off in two kicks. His shirt follows, a simple matter of shrugging out of it since the front is, as always, already undone.

Compared to Toki, Magnus is scrawny and wrinkled. He feels self-conscious about this sometimes, but Toki always tells him it ams just how bodies are, and he tries to believe him as best he can. The matching knife scar on his own chest (same knife, same hand) doesn’t bear thinking about.

He perches on the edge of the bed near Toki’s hip, birdlike, still unsure of where to put his hands. Such a shame that everywhere isn’t a practical option; Toki would like that.

Once, Toki had told him that’s what being a god had felt like: millions of hands all reaching out in unison to touch, pray, worship him, more intoxicating than all the drugs and alcohol in the world. He doesn’t talk about it often, worried that Magnus might get jealous or something, but when he does there’s this faraway expression on his face like he misses it. Maybe not enough to go back—if he even could, Magnus has no idea—but a good memory nonetheless.

“I'm here now, see?”

~

It wasn’t about what he deserved. Sometimes, what he’d done crept up on him and left him feeling so ashamed at the person he had used to be that he could have died all over again—but he didn’t.

Magnus had never thought he’d be worth the work it would take to piece himself back together until he felt like a person again. He still didn’t.

Toki always told him that he was worth it because he didn’t feel like he was but still tried anyway. For Toki.

~

“I sees you,” Toki sighs, and reaches for Magnus’ hands. He guides one to his half-hard cock, wrapping it around and guiding it to move with his, and the other to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. His breath and lips are hot against Magnus’ skin. “Wants to feels you, toos.”

“Is that so.” Magnus leans over him to steal a quick kiss, then shifts around so he isn’t reaching at a weird angle, and settles with one knee between the other man’s toned, tan legs.

He has, on other occasions, explored every inch of those legs with his hands and mouth. Other parts of him too. All of him. And he will likely do so again, many times, before the next time death comes for him. For now, Magnus follows the guidance of his lover’s hands. He watches as Toki draws his fingers into his mouth like a sucking candy, overwhelmed—first one, then a second, then a third—and sits up obediently when Toki urges him to.

“Wants you,” Toki moans again, biting his lip, urging the pace faster and giving Magnus his fingers back to prepare with.

So he does, eagerly, and before long he’s lining up, teasing against Toki’s weeping head until hands grip his hips tightly but firmly and pull him down like gravity.

Toki’s eyes are shining, starlike. “Loves you, Magnus,” he says breathlessly.

~

For Toki.

~

Magnus wonders if that really is starlight, some sort of cosmic leftover from whatever it was exactly that Dethklok went off to do as gods when they saved the world, or if it’s something else. He’d always assumed that love was about being willing to walk through fire, but maybe—and this is based both on himself and what he knows of Toki’s shitty childhood—it’s the willingness to crawl towards the light.

“I love you too.”

#metalocalypse fic #my fanfic #mtlrarepair2021 #hammertooth #toki wartooth #magnus hammersmith #i guess you could call this post-godklok #rated lime