#Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld

[adrianna-illustrations]

The demon told Marcille that she could take Falin back with her, but under one condition: she would have to follow behind her while walking out from the caves of the underworld, and she could not turn to look at her as they walked, or she would be a chimera forever

[rottenstawberrygirl]

Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld (1861) by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot (1796-1875)

[evadneares]

Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, "Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld" (1861)

"...and here I am just like I was in Vienna and your hand is in my own as long as you leave it there."

Franz Kafka, "Letters to Milena"

[mythinart]

orpheus leading eurydice from the underworld by jean-baptiste-camille corot (1861)

[princess-of-morkva]

Merlin and Arthur as Orpheus and Eurydice

so we all know about how Orpheus's challenge was actually impossible from the start because if you truly love, you always turn back?

now make it merthur

merlin bargains with the sidhe, the keepers of arthur's sleeping soul in avalon, to allow him a chance to get arthur back. and to do that, he has to lead arthur out of the underworld without turning back to look at him (we all know the story).

arthur, having just woken up and absolutely confused about everything that's going on, keeps pestering merlin with questions, and most importantly, why wouldn't he look at him?

at some point, merlin can't take it anymore, overwhelmed with grief and longing as he is, he forgets himself, just for a second, and turns around to tell Arthur off as he's done many times before.

the second their eyes meet, merlin realises his mistake.

the next second, he's standing in front of the sidhe council again. arthur isn't there.

he is then told, that the price for disobeying the rule was for him to be trapped in avalon instead. arthur can still return to the world of the living, but he now has to do it on his own.

they also say that there is still a chance for merlin to leave avalon, but that is only possible if someone comes for him the same way he has come for arthur - through overcoming the boundary between life and death by the force of their love for him.

merlin doesn't even consider that an option, seeing that there is no one left alive to even remember him, let alone love him. he doesn't think it possible someone could love him, really (merlin's s5 incredible low self esteem "he won't even notice i'm gone")

imagine his surprise when arthur comes barging into avalon demanding merlin be handed back to him

[simena]

Jean Baptiste Camille Corot - Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld (detail)

[theatricalmage]

The brainrot took over and so here's a vat7k hadestown au!! Don't know if I'll develop it fully but I liked designing it at least!

More info under the cut:

- Varian, the Coronan royal alchemist, tasks himself with deciphering an incantation capable of bringing the world back into tune. Times are tough, and the royal family + Quirin are doing their best to cope with the meagre crop yields and desolate weather (Corona not really being the sunshine kingdom - hasn't been for a while). He wants to help and do good and I think he'd be a good Orpheus.

- Hugo, having moved about from place to place, still has his interest in alchemy and does what he can to get by. He plans on temporarily staying in Corona before looting, but he encounters a certain like-minded scientist at the Snuggly Duckling. I think him being selfish works especially well in Eurydice's role, having a more pessimistic view of the world. It also works with how he gets drawn to Donella's offer of working for her later on, leading him to his death.

- Ulla as Persephone! I was initially stuck on whether to have Rapunzel (and either Eugene/Cass) as her (and Hades) but I was drawn to the connection that Hugo has to Donella and the Donella/Ulla relationship in vat7k just works too well. In this case, Ulla won't be Varian's mother. She's still gonna be somewhat of an inspiration to him though, being the previous Coronan royal alchemist and for her intelligence. For half the year, she'll return to Corona with food, drinks, and alchemical compounds/inventions, bringing Spring and Summer to the world, if only for a bit.

- Donella would be such an interesting Hades, losing sight of her love for Ulla, heart filled with fear and hurt, leading to bitterness and cruelty. Ingvarr being Hadestown and how by being the esteemed Ingvarrian engineer, she'd be in charge of major technological advances across the kingdoms and so would wield a significant amount of power (like how Hades is literally the ruler of the underworld). Ingvarr essentially being a near death sentence for its workers while also displaying its technological prowess, all still shrouded in mystery and corruption - a place so otherworldly compared to the rest of the kingdoms.

I didn't want to modify the outfits too much nor the personalities,, if anything I imagine the general plot beats being the same as the original musical/story but with slight differences that'd you get inherently as a result of these characters. I wouldn't want it to be the case where it's just the show but the names are changed. I'd want this to still make reasonable sense in this AU, with the actions being understandable for this particular cast of characters.

For Hermes, I ended up picking Xavier, as he's most knowledgeable of old legends and stories, which would work in reference to the Hades and Persephone myth (and so Donella and Ulla)! He'd act as a mentor figure for V, someone who can guide him in uncovering the forgotten incantation. Quirin would still be the good supportive dad he is (even if he doesn't fully understand his son's project).

Last but not least, the fates!! often lurking in the background, I'm still a bit stuck on who it could be? I'm tempted to have it be Raps, Cass, and Nuru as they've had celestial connections at some point (and ya know how stars can represent fate), but I also love the freckled siblings dynamic so much. Also Team Radical... Maybe Raps and Cass can be their normal selves but their Sundrop/Moonstone counterparts are the manifested physical forms of the fates? They wouldn't be visible to the characters though, just voices in the wind.

Anyways yeah!! Those are my thoughts. Do let me know if you've got any cool ideas or questions. I'm really combining my interests at full force and there's nothing anyone, not even myself, can do about it quite frankly. 😮‍💨

[sydneysageivashkov]

when you are Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the underworld but you don't know if there's even a way out. when Eurydice herself ordered you not to look at her but she doesn't understand why you won't. she's begging you to look. you'll die if you don't look. you don't look. you still don't even know if there's a way out. when your mourning is so deep that you create an underworld of your own but you still can't look for her. that a whole world was made from mourning, where everything was present once again.

[rainbowhoodlumart]

𝑻𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒂

Navigating + Forest + Hometown = 🤧😫

This is based on the painting by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot 'Orpheus leading Eurydice from the Underworld' (1861)

[suzu-kun22]

Do you think Minato's persona's purpose was to lead him away from his inevitable fate (as Orpheus lead Eurydice out of the Underworld)? Do you think Orpheus failed Minato because Minato couldn't help himself. He looked back, at those he loved, and decided that he couldn't step out of the Underworld without them. Do you think that Minato is meant to be Orpheus or Eurydice. The leader or the lead. Was he meant to guide his loved ones back to the land of the living, but ended up sucked down into the Underworld instead?

[sunsetcurveauto]

Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld, Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot

eurydice, sarah ruhl // francis forever, mitski // hamlet, william shakespeare // the worm king's lullaby, richard siken // i swear somewhere this works, trista mateer // walking home, marie howe // amy & roger's epic detour, morgan matson // the epic of gilgamesh // from june to december - summer villanelle, wendy cope // eurydice, sarah ruhl

outhouse, rachel mckibbens // hamlet, william shakespeare // the great believers, rebecca makkai // a little life, hanya yanagihara // introduction to quantum theory, franny choi // concerning the book that is the body of the beloved, gregory orr // the song of achilles, madeline miller // i swear somewhere this works, trista mateer // les miserables, victor hugo // eurydice, sarah ruhl

the epic of gilgamesh // eurydice, sarah ruhl // in the name of love, katie maria // the great believers, rebecca makkai // i swear somewhere this works, trista mateer // the time traveller's wife, audrey niffenegger // hamlet, william shakespeare // on the death of summer and baptismal promises, w.r. // amy & roger's epic detour, morgan matson // road to hell (reprise), anaïs mitchell

[fallenprophets]

televangelism

Rust Cohle x reader

summary : lying in bed with rust, you allow yourself some good ol' self-indulgent staring. featuring some very (un)scandalous physical contact

no use of y/n, gender neutral reader, 1.3K words (she's short but hopefully sweet)

warnings : n/a

A/N : she's not proofread, she's short, she's so self-indulgent, but that's kind of on brand for me at this point. listened to ethel cain while writing this (obviously). title is just a song that fits, has nothing to do with anything LMFAO. if insanely ooc, blame it on the boogey i had nothing to do with it

⭐︎

Rust Cohle doesn’t sleep. 

At least, that’s what I’ve been lead to believe- through Marty’s rants in the car on the way to crime scenes, through the whispers of coworkers in the precinct; hell, Rust himself has said it more than once, eyes glazed over, the words mumbled around the cigarette trapped between his teeth. Those words- Rust don’t sleep- had become, over time, something I knew rather than thought- words whispered in my mind every time I looked at him, took in how tired he looked. 

At this point, though, I’ve seen him asleep enough to know that that’s bullshit. Hell, I’ve seen him asleep enough to know when he’s pretendin’, eyes shut but aware of everything around him. He did it a lot, when I started staying over at his or he at mine; I’d close my eyes and feel him shift, and I just knew he was watchin’ me, thinking all his lonely thoughts. I remember wishing I could reach through his eyes, sift through his mind. 

He started trusting to me, I like to think. Took time; months of me watching him pretend, him watching me doze. Finally, though, he slept, and now, we’re at a point where I know when it’s real, when it’s faking. 

He doesn’t exactly look at peace, when he’s really asleep. That’s what you expect from people (although, at this point, I should know not to compare Rust Cohle to the others I’ve known); the lines of their face soften, the hardness of their eyes hidden. I remember watching my daddy sleep; was the only time I saw him lookin’ relatively normal. 

But no, Rust doesn’t sleep like that. 

His brow is furrowed, as when he is awake, as if he’s in perpetual thought. His mouth is pressed into a thin line; even the tic in his jaw is still there, appearing occasionally. He has a hand pressed to my leg, fingers curled around the inside of my knee. It is the only part of him touching me; I don’t blame him for wanting a little space in this heat. 

When he’s asleep, he looks like he’s fighting. Like he’s gripping onto something, and it’s slipping; like he’s Sisyphus pushing that damn rock in the underworld, always returning to the beginning. Or Orpheus, walking blind towards the light, watching his Eurydice slip away from him at the last moment when he succumbs to his love for her, turns to see her one last time. 

When I was a kid, we had a dog; my ma always told us to stay away from him if he was in a deep sleep, ‘cause we’d startle him and bite our noses off. 

Now, I feel the same longing mixed with caution swirl in my stomach. My fingers twitch where they’re curled against my stomach, aching to reach out and touch his face. I shuffle a little closer; his grip on my leg shifts, thumb dragging against my skin softly. He doesn’t seem to have been woken. I swallow. I’m close enough to feel his warm breath fan across my face, my neck; close enough to see every minute detail of his face, even in the semi-darkness of my room. 

This is one of the rare moments where I’m just able to look. To trace the line of his nose, his eyelids, the way his eyelashes look when his eyes are shut. The curve of his mouth, the tired, slightly haunted look that follows him into sleep. His hair is shorter; he let me cut it, suggested it out of nowhere the other day. I hardly said a word as I did it; he told me about whatever his latest thought was, the words thick as he smoked. I listened, threaded my fingers through his hair; kissed him when I was done, tasted the smoke on his tongue. 

I give in to the want choking me and raise my hand, reaching out to touch his cheekbone with my fingertips. I’m careful not to wake him; keep my touch light as I brush down, stopping at his mouth. It makes me feel almost physically sick; the thought that I’ve kissed him, that he’s asleep in my bed, after so much time spent haunting the precinct, trying to catch glimpses of him at his desk, ducking away when his eyes met mine. I was always too ashamed to look; and now, here I am, and here he is. 

I rest my hand where his jawline meets his ear, his pulse against my palm, fingers in his hair. The sun has almost set completely outside, but I know he’s still there, skin hot against mine. I close my eyes and still see him, burned into my eyelids; reminds me of staring at the sun too long when I was a kid, eyes stinging. Only this don’t hurt as much. 

I think he wakes while I doze. He doesn’t move, doesn’t pull my hand away from where it rests against his pulse. He watches me, like he always does; I can picture him, his gaze unfiltered and thick through his eyelashes. I wait, not wanting to break the spell of silence.

But the waiting, as always, becomes unbearable, and I open my eyes. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him, despite how I have grown so used to being near him. I shift my hand to trace my fingertips down, dragging them across his collarbone, pressing my palm over his heart. His eyes stay fixed on my face, assessing, admiring, examining. 

He pulls his hand from my leg, and my skin tingles, aching for the warmth of it. Wordlessly, he nudges the hem of my too-big t-shirt up, to settle his hand again on my bare skin, fingers curling at my back. It’s so strangely intimate; the way he touches me without breaking eye contact, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as he does so. I wonder if he feels guilty, for allowing himself this pleasure (and I am assuming that’s what this is- not just a thoughtless stunt of his, but something he wants to do, just as much as I do)- wonder if later, when he sits in his truck with a cigarette clamped between his teeth, he’ll let the regret wash over him, and never look me in the eyes again. Does he regret this? It’s hard to tell, with the way he watches me, heavy-lidded, his thumb tracing circles on my waist. 

I think of the way he kisses me. The first time, he was taught, every muscle alert, like an animal ready to bolt. But when I smoothed a hand over the tick in his jaw, he seemed to let go, to give in all at once. Now, when we kiss, he’s always almost greedy, brow furrowed, cursing himself and yet, and yet, and yet. I almost smile at the thought. 

I don’t think he regrets this, because he’s lying in my bed in his wifebeater and an old pair of my sweats, and the smell of his cigarettes linger on my skin and in my walls, and because of the things he whispers to himself when he thinks I’m asleep. I don’t think he regrets this, because although he never outright says I love you the way most people might, he shows it in other ways, in his strange, Rust Cohle way. 

And that’s enough for me. 

I shuffle closer, press my forehead to his, and he closes his eyes. I watch the furrow in his brow fade, his jaw clenching and unclenching still, the palm of his hand on my bare waist, his fingers rough and warm against my skin. He lets out a long breath, a release of something that I don’t understand. 

I suppose I must love him- not the way I’ve loved past boyfriends; certainly not the way I loved my fiancé, before he ran off with someone from California. But his heart beats against the palm of my hand, and I know he'll be right here in the morning.

[nighttimeclassics]

so im just thinking about the Orpheus and Eurydice metaphor in Dead Boy Detectives again...

so i really cant get over the symbolism in the show's comparison between Edwin and Charles and Orpheus and Eurydice. I'm sure someone else more succinct than me has already talked about it but man i just have to because as a classicist it has been consuming my brain since it happened... this is going to be a shitty ramble, but we vibe

so in the show, it is Edwin who first realises his feelings for Charles, and is the first to to truthful about them. Given that, in most translations of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, Orpheus' devotion to his wife is seen as the "stronger love" between the pair. highlighted in later adaptations such as Hadestown, as Eurydice makes the active choice to go to the underworld and leave her husband rather than their wedding being overshadowed by issues "worse than any omens". therefore, Edwin could initially be seen as the Orpheus parallel. particularly when you consider that Edwin 'guided Charles from the darkness' when he was dying of hypothermia with the lantern

however, unsurprisingly, given that is it Edwin who escaped from Hell, and is returned to it, Charles appears as the Orpheus parallel, with Edwin being his Eurydice. this is obviously then made super explicit in the show with it being Charles rescuing/ leading Edwin out of Hell. but even then it is not that simple

In Ovid's Metamorphoses, when pleading with Hades and Persephone, Orpheus states "my wife is the cause of my journey. A viper [...] robbed her of her best years. I longed to be able to accept it, and I do not say I have not tried: Love won." and obviously at the core of both of these relationships, is a deep deep love between them, regardless of how that manifests. Something i think is a massive parallel that i haven't seen anyone talk about yet is the willingness to remain in the Underworld/Hell for their respective partners.

going back to Metamorphoses, when Orpheus is requesting Eurydice's return to the mortal world, he gives Hades and Persephone an alternative solution of sorts. he says "if the fates refuse my wife this kindness [of returning to life], I am determined not to return {to the mortal realm]: you can delight in both our deaths." now is this not effectively the same thing Charles says to the Night Nurse when bargaining with her to open a door to Hell??? Charles says "then open up a door and I'll go get him, then we're stuck in Hell and you know where we are, or, I bring him back and we're all yours. It's a win-win." tell me that these aren't the same. you cant.

But i do think the most interesting parallel is when Charles and Edwin are running up the spiral staircase. i am not mentioning the times when escaping Hell, Edwin overtook Charles running, because let's be honest, we all know he is the faster sprinter of the two given the 70 years he spent practising. so I am disregarding that. but what I do find fascinating is this - and why I said it was more complicated earlier; in the metamorphoses Orpheus is obviously given the stipulation that he must not look at Eurydice when guiding her out of the underworld, or the agreement "would be null and void". and its here that we see another reversal. during the majority of the run up the staircase, Charles is behind Edwin, because like we have established, he's speedy. but in this key moment, Charles takes the lead in their escape, walking in front of Edwin whilst making it clear that they need to keep moving. just like in the tale, Charles, fulfilling Orpheus' role, "Afraid [they] was no longer there, and eager to see [them], the lover turned his eyes", turns to look back at Edwin, delivering the ridiculously romantic, 'sorry, no version of this where I didn't come get you is there?'. however, after this he refocuses on continuing up the staircase, which is where Edwin steps in:

as you can see in the gif, currently, Edwin is in, what I'm going to call the 'Eurydice position', following the lover out of the afterlife. and it is Edwin, as Eurydice, who basically chooses to condemn himself to the underworld/ hell, allowing the demon to catch up with them just to 'see [his] lover' and ensure Charles knows that '[he] had been loved'. t

im just going to put the section where Orpheus looks back at Eurydice in here because I think its all relevant:

"Afraid she was no longer there, and eager to see her, the lover turned his eyes. In an instant she dropped back, and he, unhappy man, stretching out his arms to hold her and be held, clutched at nothing but the receding air. Dying a second time, now, there was no complaint to her husband (what, then, could she complain of, except that she had been loved?). She spoke a last ‘farewell’ that, now, scarcely reached his ears, and turned again towards that same place"

by forcing Charles to turn around and face him, Edwin is fulfilling the roles of both Eurydice and Orpheus. in this instance, he is the one 'stretching out his arms' to hold Charles, but he is also the one that could be sent/ dragged back to the afterlife for this, but he just had to make sure Charles was aware of his feelings for him, to know that he was 'loved'. and I think Edwin was potentially prepared to return to the Doll House, or at least believed he would be able to find it more bearable knowing that he had been able to bear his soul to Charles, eve if that meant Charles couldn't come back again and try to rescue him for a second time, which Orpheus tried to do in the Metamorphoses, "Orpheus wished and prayed, in vain, to cross the Styx again, but the ferryman fended him off" and I feel like we all know Charles would have also kept trying if he lost Edwin again.

i guess, what im trying to say, in the most long-winded way, is that Charles and Edwin don't fill binary roles of one of them being Orpheus and the other being Eurydice, they are both of those things to one another throughout the show and I think that's really beautiful and I have to give massive credit to whoever did episode seven because I really feel like they did their homework. even after all the ramble I have written I still feel like I haven't fully made the point I was trying to make, but I definitely got some of the way there I think

[antiquarianfics]

Taken pt. 10

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

a/n: sorry for the hiatus. here’s this. it’s not proofed. yay!

warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»��——-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

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“Well, my targets are gone,” you sigh, glancing down the hallway you had seen Steve run. You click your tongue and return your focus to Bucky, shaking your head slightly.

“Sorry, honey,” you say, knocking him out.

—

Bucky comes to with a groan, sitting up from his position on the floor, a hand holding his head. He blinks a couple of times, scanning the room for any sign of you. You’re nowhere to be found. Shaking his head, he pulls himself off the ground, and starts heading to the meetup spot he and Steve had agreed on months ago in case Becca had to be taken somewhere safe.

As Bucky travels, he replays the conversation he’d had with you. Why the hell would you bring up a Greek myth? He struggles to make any sense of it, but then his brain picks out a particular part of your story:

“Orpheus didn’t get a second chance to save Eurydice. Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid Orpheus would tell the humans all the secrets of the Underworld. Some versions say that the Muses kept his head, though, to sing songs forever. They managed to hear his voice even after he died.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Don’t turn around, James.”

Your warning—“Don’t turn around, James”— was certainly a code. After all, if you had struck a deal with Frost, and if you were working with HYDRA, then you were probably being watched, listened to. You couldn’t speak freely. But why Orpheus and Eurydice? Why that story?

“Don’t turn around, James.”

Orpheus turned around… Why is that important?

“Don’t turn around, James.”

“This has to be a metaphor for us,” Bucky thinks. “Does she mean I’m Orpheus, then? Eurydice was trapped in the Underworld… Y/N is trapped by HYDRA… Does she mean to stop looking for her? Or does she mean to trust she has a plan? That she knows what she’s doing?”

Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid he would tell all the secrets of the Underworld.

Then, it clicked. Bucky isn’t sure exactly what it is that changed how he interpreted your story, but, suddenly, everything made sense:

1. Chance one to save Y/N: Russia. I didn’t save her. I only saved Becca. She is saying I don’t get another chance to try for her.

2. Y/N is picking off people Frost is afraid will come between him and HYDRA. Right now, I’m not apart of that list. Proof: She let me go. If I attempt a second rescue, she will have no choice; they will tell her to take me out. Besides that, they will certainly threaten Becca, and we agreed when she was born that Becca always comes first.

3. The muses kept his head? They won’t kill me. She doesn’t want me to come after her because they will just capture me. She won’t give me up, but she’s more likely to slip up if it comes to me. A slip up is more likely to lead to… They’ll wipe me. She doesn’t want me to come after her because they’ll wipe me if they capture me.

Bucky sighs as he arrives at the rendezvous he and Steve had agreed on. He feels a little better now that he understands more of what you were saying, but he still feels like there is a piece of the puzzle missing.

—

The team goes into hiding. You had revealed a lot about the dangers of HYRDA’s plans, but they still know so little. The team knew you had targets—important targets—that you were being forced to eliminate. They discerned the targets were people HYDRA feel are threats against their mission, but they still don’t have a definite list.

“We’re sitting ducks!” Tony shouts angrily into the room.

“Stark,” Fury says gravely, “watch it.”

“I’m sorry, but we are. We have no new intel. HYDRA is AWOL. The world is looking at us to do something, and we’ve got nothing.”

“Buck,” Steve says, “did Y/N say anything else that might give us a clue as to who she’s after?”

Bucky sighs, thinking back over the whole interaction from the moment you got there to the moment you knocked him out. It was as he replayed your conversation on the roof that it clicked: the missing puzzle piece. Bucky meets Steve’s eyes.

“She told me who she’s after.”

“Well?” Tony questions impatiently. “Who?”

“When I met her on the roof,” Bucky says, “Y/N told me she was marking 3 names off her list. That means her next three targets were in the Compound.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony says, “get me a list of every person who was in the Compound at the time of the break in.” FRIDAY responds in the affirmative.

“Then,” Bucky continues, “she asked me…” Bucky trails off as he tries to remember how exactly you worded the question. “She asked me: ‘You’re not all that close to Captain America, are you?’

“I thought it was weird how she worded that. I’ve known Steve longer than anyone, and it was weird she called him ‘Captain America.’ But that was her clue. HYDRA has no problem with Steve Rogers—”

“But Captain America has been ruining their plans since the ‘40s,” Steve says, arms crossed as he puts together what Bucky is saying. Bucky nods.

“So the other two targets have to have been in the Compound at the time of the attack, and they have to be people that have significantly messed with HYDRA somehow,” Sam thinks aloud.

Bucky thought. Who else could HYDRA consider a threat to their cause? Who else has been foiling HYDRA’s plans time after time? Bucky scanned the room, eyes carefully considering each person. It could be any of the Avengers, he thought, but then you would likely have more than 3 targets. His eyes settle on Fury. Bingo.

“Fury’s a target.”

All eyes are on Bucky.

“How you figure?” Someone asks. Bucky doesn’t clock who, his mind still attempting to fit puzzle pieces together.

“Captain America is an obvious choice. It can’t be another Avenger because you’ve done equal damage to their cause. It’s not me because they don’t want me dead—I’m valuable to them. But Fury? Fury created the Avengers. Fury is the leader. He’s also the director of SHIELD: HYDRA’s number 1 obstacle. It makes sense.”

Fury hums in agreement. “Rogers and I make the most sense. We still have a third target to identify, though.”

Bucky nods in acknowledgment, but his eyes settle on Coulson beside Fury.

“Coulson.”

Coulson’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, as if he never would have expected he could be so important to Bucky. He swallows and composes himself, and when he speaks, he is calm, confident.

“I do make sense. My team and I have given HYDRA a real headache, and, like Fury, I’m the leader.”

—

With a list of targets that the team was agreed upon and confident in, it was time for a plan. They’d been idle too long. The plan is simply to get you back first, stop HYDRA second, but the way Bucky see is it, you are crucial to Frost’s plan. If they get you, Frost will be scrambling.

“Okay, team,” Steve says into a huddle. “Stick to the plan. The tip we sent out says I’ll be on a solo recon mission, so they’ll be waiting. Y/N will be waiting.

The goal is to get Y/N and bring her home.”

“And we’re sure she’s not just going to kill you?” Sam asks, facetiously. Bucky scowls.

“We have to hope that she really is just playing HYDRA’s game to stay alive,” Steve says solemnly.

—

“Any sign of her?” Natasha asks into the coms.

“No,” Clint says.

“Redwing and I got nothing,” Sam says.

The coms go silent as the team waits. Steve carefully walks through the hallways of the abandoned HYDRA facility. He’s careful—he half expects you to step out of nowhere and shoot at him.

He turns the corner into what appears to be the facility’s security room. Computer monitors line the walls, each showing different hallways or facility entrances. The room is bland and dark except for the monitors and the light emitting from them.

Steve’s eyes take in the security footage, the room, and the woman sitting in a large desk chair in front of the monitors, legs propped up on the desk the security equipment rests on.

“Y/N?” Steve asks.

“You found her?” Bucky asks quickly, heartbeat picking up. He had been ordered to stay behind in the quinnjet, but if Steve found you, he’s leaving.

“Hi, Cap,” you say pleasantly. “Been a while.”

“You tried to kill me a week ago.”

You frown. “You still mad about that?”

Steve scoffs. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on, Captain America,” a third voice chimes in, “is the fall of the Avengers, of SHIELD, and the rise of HYDRA.”

“Frost,” Steve says, presuming he’s meeting the “mastermind” behind the whole endeavor.

“Captain Rogers,” Frost says with an over animated grin. “A pleasure!”

Steve turns back to you, ignoring Frost’s greeting. “You missed.”

“I won’t miss this time,” you say, the corner of your mouth twitching.

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve replies. “I’ve never known you to miss. Best sniper on the team.”

“Steven,” you say, an edge to your voice that confuses Steve. He opens his mouth to answer, but the sound of a gun cocking beats him to it.

Behind Steve, and then behind Frost, stands Bucky; he has a gun to Frost’s head. It’s clear that Bucky had snuck up on him.

“Well! Isn’t it nice of you to join us, Sergeant Barnes,” Frost says. “I just love a little family reunion. Tell me, how is the Mini Asset? Hmm?”

Still holding the gun to Frost’s head with his right hand, Bucky’s left hand goes around Frost’s throat.

“Watch it.”

“Buck, we need him alive,” Steve warns. Bucky releases Frost’s neck. However, in the small amount of time that this interaction took place, Frost had, unbeknownst to the three of you, snuck something out of his pocket.

“Well, this has been fun. I’m sure we will meet again soon,” Frost’s tone is sardonic. “Just know, Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, that you may have gotten your little bitch back today, but this is far from over. HYDRA will rise again. SHIELD will fall.”

Then, Frost throws what he had pulled from his pocket to the ground and smoke quickly billows up into the room, filling your lungs and making you cough. You hear footsteps—Frost running. He must have taken Bucky by surprise, too.

When the smoke clears, you face your husband and run into his arms for the first time since being kidnapped.

—

After being rescued from Frost, Bucky and the team take you back to the Avengers’ makeshift headquarters. They (with profuse apologies) blindfold you on the way so that you’re not able to leak any information if you have actually turned against them, or accidentally give something away if HYDRA is watching somehow.

“I’m sorry, Doll. Y’know I trust you with my life, but we gotta be sure,” Bucky says. You rest your hand on his and squeeze.

“It’s fine. I understand.”

Upon your arrival to the HQ, you’re taken to an interrogation room where Fury and Coulson ask you about the kidnap, the torture, the deal you struck, HYDRA’s plans, and everything else up to your rescue. They hook you up to a lie detector machine, even, and ask you if you are working with HYDRA, if you had gone dirty.

“I promise I only did what I had to survive and to keep my daughter alive. I had to do what HYDRA asked. They’re everywhere. They’re within SHIELD, even. I didn’t know who could hurt her,” you swore.

When Fury and Coulson are finally finished interrogating you, they tell you they think you have a chance of being acquitted. You were a prisoner of war, and, surely, the U.S. government would see that. However, until then, you were in SHIELD’s custody and to be locked up. You agree without protest.

As you’re walking out of the interrogation room, hands cuffed in front of you, you see Bucky holding a sleeping Becca in his arms waiting for you. Your eyes widen.

“What is she doing here?” You panic.

Bucky frowns. “I thought you might want to see her. She misses you.”

“Bucky, if she sees me right now, what will she think? I’m handcuffed. The last time she…” You trail off. “I don’t want to see her. Just… put her to bed. Give her a kiss for me. Tell her I love her. Don’t bring her by my cell.”

Bucky says nothing as a couple SHIELD agents lead you away.

—

It takes 2 months for you to be acquitted. You stay locked up in a SHIELD cell, refusing to see your daughter, barely speaking to anyone for 2 months. When you are finally acquitted, it is because a private grand jury hears your testimony, Becca’s testimony, and the testimony of the Avengers’, security and personnel from the White House there the night you assassinated the president, and the families of the deceased. The ordeal is heart wrenching. You are sentenced to a year of probation (including not going on missions as an Avenger) and weekly court mandated therapy, but you are free.

When the judge tells you, “Mrs. Y/N L/N-Barnes, you’re a free woman,” you let out a sob and feel yourself yanked into a firm chest that you’d recognize anywhere: Bucky.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re coming home.”

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@just-henny @jasminocano @browneyedgirl22-blog @barnesboo1967 @matchat3a @unkasworld @qwertyb2577 @raajali3 @yoruse @iilsenewman @alysianc @fairytalegirlofurdreams @marvelxlevram @casa-boiardi @buckybraneslover111 @hhiggs @smolracoon25 @questionableratatouille00 @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl @thearieunhinged @sebastianstansource @middaystarlight @talesofadragon @killerwendigo @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom

[psych3-delic]

“Why don’t you come in, creature of the night? Let’s us together confess our sins”

Father Michaelis led the demon down a long and narrow passage hidden behind a large tapestry hung on the wall. The childlike imp smug, thinking it had enticed another victim.

They descended the staircases, step by step, just as Dante entered the mouth of Hell - ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’; or perhaps, a perverse version of Orpheus and Eurydice with how two shadows reflected by the candle light, but only one’s footsteps could be heard. And instead of emerging from the underworld, they only spiraled down, down, and further downward. Father Michaelis didn’t turn back to look at the creature once. He felt the thing’s wicked presence well enough over his shoulder. What a same a pretty face like that strayed outside of God’s realm. But no worries, he could be repented. Sebastian would make sure of it.

Soon, they arrived at an unused crypt beneath the holy ground; the walls of which were covered in Enochian runes and Solomonic keys…

Also… Father Michaelis singing Hellfire from Hunchback of the Notre Dame

"Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man. Of my virtue I am justly proud"

"Protect me, Maria! Don't let this siren cast his spell. Don't let his fire sear my flesh and bone"

"Be mine or you will burn"

In the end, when the villagers found out a demonic being is being kept underneath the holy church; they stomped the ground with their pitchfork and angry chants, and set the place aflame. The imp, bound by ancient spells and weakened by its broken wings, had resigned to its fate. The crypt is maze-like with its many obscure paths leading to secret entrances all over the town; but nailed as he was to the wall and the keys thrown away, there was no escape. And yet, its captor, its abuser, the once devout man of God, remains by its side. He used his own body to futilely shield Ciel from the blunt of the heat.

“Are you stupid, mortal? You can still run away. By what reason do you remain?”

“Didn’t I said I would never abandon you? Lying is against the teachings of God.”

Ciel laughed instead of pointing out the obvious hypocrisy of it all. Its captor, its abuser, and perhaps, the only man that had ever truly loved the creature in its entire sorry existence; even if it was in the man’s own horrible, twisted way.

“Very well then,” said the imp, “we shall burn together.”

It fisted slender fingers onto the priest’s black robe and pulled him down; the cross scorched one last time over where its heart should be. They share their first tender kiss as the Church collapsed over their head.

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

Orpheus’ Sorrow – Pascal Dagnan-Bouveret // Eurydice Wounded – Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot // Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld – Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot (detail) // Eurydice Receding into the Underworld – Enrico Scuri // Stick Season – Noah Kahan