#he cannot let zag know that though

[autumnoakes]

does zagreus come up with really shitty puns whenever he goes out with thanatos like does he go "i have a date with death" or smthg and then it cuts to him and than having drinks in the lounge

[tgmsunmontue]

Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 3/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

              ��I have heard rumors of this place, a haven, for those from Cybertron. A place with a skilled technician, even if they are human. We will need to check there, see if Jetfire’s wings have maybe made it there. I know there are… others there.”

              Jake gets the feeling that he’s not quite getting the whole story but he is more worried about the logistics.

              “Do you know where it is?”

              “I can fly there.”

              “Great for you. Do you need me to get there with Jetfire? Because I’m going to need a bit more than your gut instinct.”

              “I will guide you. It is West of here. And North.”

              “North West. Which leaves most of the entire fucking continent ahead of me, but sure, let’s get to work. I only have four more weeks of leave.”

              He organizes to borrow one of the large equestrian truck and trailers, says he’s taking the plane to a specialist welder, which isn’t that much of a stretch when he considers it. In the dead of night he watches as Starscream simply lifts the pieces of Jetfire into the back and wishes he had that much strength at his disposal. He’s pretty sure Starscream will only do as he asks for as long as it serves his own purpose, and that purpose right now is getting his friend fixed up. And for that he currently needs Jake.

…           …           …

              Maybe his friends were right and his car is possessed. He had fallen asleep once and when he’d woken up they’d been over halfway back to California. Even if he doesn’t have to buy gas he’s getting very sick of simply zig-zagging across middle-America. He puts his feet on the brake and while it doesn’t respond immediately it does slow down and pull over and Bradley gets out and walks for a bit, ignoring as best he can that the car is following him at a crawling pace. He’s pretty sure kicking the tires is not a good idea.

              “Look… I want to go home to Virginia Beach.”

              Something is wrong with my baby… the radio crackles out, and then Something is wrong is repeated and he doesn’t like the way all the little hairs on his forearms suddenly prickle up.

              “Okay. Okay. Message received loud and clear. Get us back to… wherever it is you need to go. Uh. Do you need me there? Cause I could just leave you to it if you like?”

              I still want you by my side…

              “Man your taste in music really sucks.”

              You’re not better than me.

              “You aren’t making a good argument…” Bradley mutters, but he gets back in and resigns himself to going wherever his car wants to take him.

…           …           …

              “I am not a robot and I cannot drive non-stop!” Jake hisses at Starscream. He’d punctuate his words with a finger to the chest, except he feels like he’d likely break a finger. Also having to reach that far up probably makes the gesture just look silly. “I am a human and I need to eat and sleep and take fucking toilet breaks. Go and hide yourself in a field somewhere if you’re meant to keeping a low profile. I am getting food and then sleeping for eight hours.”

              Starscream stalks off muttering about pushy humans but Jake cannot bring himself to care. He’s been driving for over fourteen hours, and he’s used to pushing his body to its limits, but he cannot drive another five minutes. His eyes are gritty, body stiff and his stomach is grumbling. His bladder is also screaming at him and he quickly enters the diner, orders food and then makes a beeline for the bathroom. His body slumps with relief and he heads back to eat and enjoy his food. He’s also refueling the truck, another thing Starscream doesn’t seem to appreciate.

              He pulls himself into the back of the truck, runs his fingers over the body of Jetfire, the vibrations under his fingers still there and he knows he’s probably not imagining it now. He pulls out the bedroll and camping mattress he’d packed, not prepared to pay for accommodation when he could bunk in the truck. The smell of horses isn’t anything that bothers him. He falls asleep and doesn’t feel the rocking motion of movement.

…           …           …

              He wakes up feeling rested, glances at his watch and yep, seven hours sleep exactly. He leaves the bedding where it is, knows he’s likely going to need it again and unlocks the door, pushing it open. He’s expecting to see the truck stop, other trucks pulled in for a rest. Except that’s not where he is at all. He’s somewhere else, nothing but tussocky grasslands stretching in every direction, mountains in the distance. There’s a road, long and straight in both directions and he groans. He has no fucking clue where he is, or where he’s meant to be going, or where Starscream has fucked off to. He walks around the side, and hunched in the shadow of the truck, trying to conceal himself, is Starscream.

              “Oh, there you are. Did you… drive us here?”

              “Carried. I had to stop and hide often, but the cover of darkness helped. I had to stop when dawn approached.”

              “Of course you did. Where are we?”

              “California.”

              “Okay. So I’m guessing no more West. Just North now?”

              “We are close. Less than an hour travel.”

              “Oh. Cool. Uh. You have any more instructions you can give me?”

              Starscream tries his best, or at least Jake hopes he’s trying, but then he mentions he can land there as a plane and Jake looks at him in disbelief.

              “So it’s an airstrip?”

              “Yes.”

              “Okay, then there’s likely to be signs, and wind socks and other things I can use to guide me.”

              “There are buildings, shaped like this,” Starscream says, drawing a semicircle in the dirt and Jake nods.

              “Hangars. There are hangars. That’s to be expected.”

              “One is… newly painted. That is the one we want,” Starscream states and then pauses. “It may not be a warm welcome.”

              Jake groans.

              “Now you tell me.”

              “You will be fine.”

              Jake raises a disbelieving eyebrow, he has no real choice but to go along with it, his curiosity almost at fever pitch. Also he wants to see if he can get Jetfire up and working again.

              He drives.

…           …           …

              When he starts recognizing things his stomach starts sinking, unable to believe that he’s heading towards Maverick’s hangar. There’s a chance that, however slim, that they’ll blow past the turnoff, but nope, the Bronco is slowing and the turn signal is flashing and he crosses his arms, feeling justified in his sulk. He can’t believe he’s been abducted by his own freaking car, which is now moving very slowly, and Bradley is starting to feel uneasy, because it’s like his car has suddenly gotten cautious, like it’s expecting something. And not something good.

              It stops by the hangar and Bradley reaches for the door, but then the locks all slam into place and Bradley slams his hands on the dash.

              “Seriously?!”

              “Be quiet.”

              His jaw drops, because that was definitely a voice, not music coming from the radio, not something he could even begin to pass off as his imagination. He doesn’t know if he could make noise now even if he hadn’t just been told to be quiet. Then he sees the large horse truck driving down the road that is parallel with the airstrip, and he wonders what about it seems to have his car effectively pacing in front of the hangar doors. Then the doors are opening but his attention is drawn to the plane coming into land. He’s pretty sure it’s an F-15 Eagle, and god, he wouldn’t put it past Maverick to have collected yet another fighter jet, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to face Maverick himself.

              Then the unthinkable happens, the plane seems to crumple midair as it comes to land, and he thinks it’s undergone catastrophic failure before realizing it’s reforming into something else and is landing on two legs rather than wheels and he’s blinking fast, trying to double check his vision isn’t making things up. Then he feels his car move around him and he’s tossed, semi-gently and then his car is also on legs rather than wheels and he just gapes up at it, mind racing.

…           …           …

              Holy shit.

              Holy fucking shit.

              There are so many of them.

              Nearly everything that he can see is changing form and suddenly looking a fuck load more aggressive and he shrinks back, presses himself into the leather of the seat. He thought he saw someone else, a human someone else, not a robot someone, because he’s seeing dozens of them right now. Wonders a little hysterically if this is some type of convention, and if it is, what they all discuss. Can they all talk? Sucking in a deep breath he decides he needs to get out and ask questions, even if the welcome is so far a little frosty. Starscream had predicted this.

              “Human. They will not hurt you. Me however…” Starscream shrugs then and Jake has gotten pretty good at reading his expressions, and he’s not comfortable right now. While he isn’t the friendliest of… robots, he hasn’t threatened to anything bad, and Jake isn’t going to let a bunch of other robots take him down. Not that he can really stop them if they decide to.

              “Look, uh, hi? My name is Jake… we’re hoping we might get some help to fix our friend, Jetfire?”

              “Decepticon scum, you come here asking for help?” the blue robot which had been a Bronco only ten minutes okay spits out and Jake looks to Starscream, because he doesn’t understand Decepticon, but he does understand scum and the tone leaves nothing to the imagination. Saying it might not be a warm welcome was maybe underselling it a bit he thinks.

              “I do not come seeking help for me. The human speaks true. We have the body of Jetfire. I thought here might… be the best place to bring him.”

              It’s a staring competition between Starscream and the Bronco-robot and Jake’s reminded of stand-offs between some guys in high school, waiting to see who will blink first. He’s pretty sure the fallout from these two exchanging blows would do considerable more damage.

              “Neither of you rule here, this is my space, and you will not begin anything. Do I make myself understood?”

              Jake doesn’t know who the new robot is, but the tone of voice is sharp, commands respect and seems to rebuke both of the other robots despite the fact they’ve both taller by at least a foot. He’s not sure what kind of vehicle they’re meant to be, but it’s more similar to Starscream than the Bronco-bot. Regardless, he can’t help but be impressed.

CHAPTER FOUR

[libbee]

Karmic Relationship Concept

Karmic relationship was unfinished in previous lifetimes and purpose is to balance the energy

Both people feel karmic pressure or psychic pressure that "my heart is yearning for this specific person but I dont know whether they really exist"

Both feel like the other is their soul image, that "he/she is the one I was looking for subconsciously"

It is not about how cute, interesting, smart, rich you both are, it is about the feelings you feel for each other, that "I know he/she is flawed, but I cannot resist wanting him/her"

You both may or may not love each other!!! Karmic does not always mean loving or fulfilling. Karmic basically means balance of give and take

It may not be how you fantasize things. You can be in karmic relationship and yet fantasize a fairytale. So be realistic of your expectations 🙏

Sometimes people go through karmic relationship but learn nothing about themselves. They come out with list of complaints how their person was lacking, unfulfilling, disappointing. But the point is major self development

Some karmic relationship is the one that you feel like you were born to be with them, that "if not you, I can't imagine being with someone else". Every karmic relationship varies case by case 💕

But the major sign of how this particular FATED relationship differs from every other relationship is the INTUITIVE knowing of your person. That your intuition knew he/she is the one you want, even before you met them, your imagination and feelings guide you. "I knew about you somehow, I just knew"

Things happen around you that guide you to them. You gain sudden insights that remind you of them. You may even feel like you are changing into the kind of person and personality they are. That "Universe was preparing me for you even before I knew it" 💕

You both feel like doing a lot of things for each other. "You were so empty without me, let me do things for you"

You both find yourself in situations where nobody else comes to your assistance. You are for them and they are for you. No friends and family follow through, only you two are each other's rock

You both may be shocked how your life paths met in hindsight. The babysteps, sleepless nights, twists and turns of events led you to each other. "Zig-zag, that's how I found you"

You both may provoke strong emotions in each other. That "Something heavy in my heart I carried through my childhood, only to show it to you"

Perhaps you both had an intuitive idea of each other. That you had a mental picture of them or something about their personality you always knew or something that is unique or quirky about them that you were not supposed to know beforehand unless it was karmic

To attract karmic relationship, you also need to have the natal placements that trigger them

Whether they will last a lifetime or not, who knows?

You both tackle personal issues and insecurities. That everyone does tackle but in a karmic relationship especially, things and beef with other people sort out and you are at peace with yourself, you sort of forget your past and things change after you meet them

Your values align though they may not align with other people in your life, but this one person he/she is exactly on the same page as you

Maybe you were a social butterfly but you change into a wallflower so you can spend time with someone who actually matters more than anybody else

Perhaps you both had challenging lives but it is all worth it now. This one person makes all the effort worth it

To be continued..

[quinloki]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 18

Let's get a little ... Forgetful.

Character: Trafalgar Law Reader: cis!fem reader Warnings: Uh... look, okay, this starts with a fever dream and moves into a reader that doesn't remember anything. It's also a 3rd Corazon AU. It's weird and I'm not sure what to tag, aside from some body worship it's really hard to categorize what the fuck happens.

Summary: You literally risk death to get away from Donquixote Doflamingo, which would be less terrifying if you could remember anything. -:- 2737 words

Heart Shaped

DEAD DOVE -- YOU BETTER READ THE WARNINGS. (I don't want any bitching. Welcome to my "Akira" One-shot because I still don't know what was going on in that movie, and idk what's going on in this, but I liked both.)

The stern man loomed over you, his face unreadable. He doesn’t say anything, ripping your clothes from you – maybe even your limbs, you’re not sure. Except they’re still there. You’re whole under him, broken only in the fact that you can’t seem to protest.

You’re not sure if you want to. Aside from the rough and ill consideration of your clothes, he’s almost gentle. Gloved hands move over your skin. His hands are huge, and so is he, easily towering over you. You can see yourself in the reflection of his sunglasses, the jagged and well-manicured zig and zag of his facial hair is etched on his face as firmly as his fingers are against your body.

You want to reach out to him, but you’re not sure why. Salvation seems an impossible hope, as soft lips kiss your body. The kisses are cool against your skin, not cold, but cooler than you are. Maybe you’re sick? Skin fevered as you fight an infection or mend some injury you can’t see or feel right now.

The gloved hands continue to caress your skin, warmer than the kisses that travel along your clavicle. Harsher than the kisses. Not enough to leave bruises, but enough that there’s no chance you can squirm away.

His thumbs follow the lines of your thighs, following the crease along the inside of your thighs, tickling the dark curly hair nestled there. A small shiver escapes your lips, the first sign that you could make noise, and a soft tremble rolls through your bones.

“There we go, that’s a good sign.” He says in a voice deep and disinterested.

It can’t be a good sign, you try to say, but your lips don’t work with you.

“Don’t try to force it.” He admonishes, a spark of emotion in the otherwise flat voice.

The figure before you shimmers a little, as your mind cannot recall a time Vergo’s voice held emotion. Maybe you were thinking of the wrong heart?

A taller man fusses over you now, taking Vergo’s place. His blond hair is hidden under a red cap, and the unusual makeup on his face hides kind and strong features. Not quite a clown, but allusions to being one. Brown eyes look at you as he smiles, his hands wandering over your naked body just like Vergo’s were.

“I’m going to take good care of you.” He promises, trying to reassure you. “Don’t panic, just relax, I’m a friend.”

You can’t be a friend, you try to say again, but again the words don’t come into being.

“Shh, shh, don’t keep trying to talk.” He urges, as cool lips press against yours. Softly, gently, almost as though he’s afraid to kiss you. A soft breath escapes you and he smiles, rough and scarred hands dancing along your curves easily.

His fingers slip carefully against your nipples and your body twitches just a little as goosebumps skitter across your chest. Another gentle run of his fingers and your nipples stiffen, allowing large fingers to tease and gently squeeze the hardening flesh.

You could feel a tingle between your thighs from the attention, and feel blood rush through you. It made you feel hotter, almost making you dizzy. You wanted him to stop, but you wanted the pleasurable feeling to be stronger. You tried to move your hands, but there was resistance. You could move them, but they weren’t going anywhere.

“Don’t struggle, just let me help.” He says softly, leaning down and steadying one of your breasts licking it with a tongue far warmer than his lips. The tingle was the first real thing you could comprehend feeling, the pleasure sending jolts through your chest.

Your body squirmed because of it, and you realized on some level that you were bound. Wrists and ankles at the least, but you weren’t anywhere that you knew. The room was just a color, a strange, shifting shade of red, green, pink and black. Some sort of liminal space.

Maybe you couldn’t speak or move because you were “-dreaming?”

“I told you not to talk.” He says more sternly this time, switching to your other breast. “Conserve your strength for this, and you’re not dreaming, not really.”

If you weren’t dreaming, then what was happening? You didn’t try to ask the question out loud, but the concern raced through your mind despite it.

“You have a fever.” He says, flatly, the fleeting happy tone disappearing from his voice.

He shifts again, your addled mind releasing the form and visage of Rosinante and seeing Vergo in his place for a moment, suckling your tit. He teased the other with his fingers as the heat in your body began to pool between your thighs. The harsh countenance of the man kept you from trying to ask any questions, but the vision of Vergo didn’t stay long this time.

Things shifted, the formless color-filled room giving way to something far different.

A bright light over you, almost blinding you to the world around you. A hard surface beneath you. Cold, but not uncomfortably cold. Soft, but snug, padded leather restraints kept your wrists by your hips, and your ankles were off the side of the table, held, you assumed by the sensation, by similar restraints.

There was warmth against your stomach, and you looked down to see a man with dark hair attending to your chest the way you’d been hallucinating. Tattooed fingers danced over your skin, sending delicious pleasure through you. More than pleasure it was making your blood rush.

“Ah…” You gasp, feeling heat in your face. He looks up at you, golden eyes bright despite being shaded by his messy hair and the harsh light.

“Do you see me now?” He questions. His voice has hints of emotion in it, but it’s mostly flat.

You nod, and he gives you a deviously sweet smile, teasing your nipples with his fingers and watching you squirm a little.

“What do you remember?”

You shake your head. Nothing is coming to mind.

The devious grin falters, and his fingers stop working. His hands continue to wander over your body but it seems more clinical now, less pleasurable, and simply warm.

“You wanted to leave the Family.” He says, a smile coming back to his lips. “It was risky for you to ask me for help, but luck or your own intuition worked well for you. The deal,” he sighs a bit, rolling his eyes. “Was that I would get full access to your body for the time it took to get you clear of Dressrosa.”

“… Why?”

“Why did I want full access? Or why were you willing to give it?” He tilts his head and shrugs, answering before you can clarify. “I suppose I wanted to be able to commit all of you to memory.”

The even look on his face falters slightly, but it could just be a trick of the bright light overhead. Something makes your heart twist.

“As for why you agreed,” he continues, standing up and pulling a blanket from somewhere you couldn’t see. “I suppose because you wanted to get away from the Young Master that badly.” He says, laying it over you.

The title rattled something in your memories and you tug at the restraints. He looks down at them and shakes his head. “Sorry, I can’t release those yet.

“The Tang has some tricky maneuvering to do, and you were, technically, dead for a couple minutes. Probably the biggest cause of the memory loss, but hopefully it will clear up quickly. What I do isn’t magic though, and I had to stitch a lot of you back together. Some of it was superficial, controlled by my fruit, but the rest needed to look real.”

He shifts a little, sitting down beside you. “I’ve never brought someone back from something like that, and when you successfully came back around it was two days of hit or miss. I couldn’t get your fever to break until we dropped you in a full on ice bath.”

“Once you stabilized, I decided to warm you up and start on my payment.” He runs a hand over your forehead, the look in his eyes making your chest tight. “But, if you don’t remember, I don’t want your last, or maybe only, memory of me to be something like that.”

“… What’s… what’s your name?” You ask. Your stomach knots. You know you should know it, he’s said as much, but you want to know it.

“… I have a few. The Young Master calls me Cora-chan. Most of the Family calls me Corazon.” He brushes his fingers through your hair, it’s warm and relaxing. Nothing in the action makes you uncomfortable. “My actual name is Trafalgar Law.”

“Trafalgar… D Water Law…. Right?” You question and see a genuine smile cross his face.

“You remember something.”

You nod slightly, shutting your eyes and grimacing a little. “Not enough.”

“It’ll come back.”

“Before or after I know?”

His brows furrow. “After you know what?”

“Why I asked you.” You clarify, and Law just looks at you for a moment before you continue. “Was it because I trusted you would do so much for so little? Did I think that if you denied me that dying at your hands would’ve been best? Did I think that even if you rejected my request you could still protect me somehow?

“What was I to him?” You question, breaking away from your initial train of thought.

“To… Doflamingo?”

“… Yes, I think so.”

“A gift. A toy. I don’t know what he did or didn’t do to you.” Law admits. “But he dressed you in riches, and paraded around Dressrosa with you. You weren’t from the island, and I never heard a surname for you. Just (Y/N), on the rare occasions he called you by name.”

Law looks uncomfortable. “Otherwise it was always –.”

“Little heart.” You said at the same time as Law, and he nods.

There was a long silence between the two of you. Law didn’t shift or look uncomfortable, and you didn’t do much except stare off into space and let your mind wander a little. Mostly, toward some semblance of a decision. You wanted to make a choice, it didn’t matter the way, not really, but there was something at the edges of your mind that motivated you.

“I… want you to take your payment.” You say finally, heat rushing through you. You look at him when you say it, but you can’t keep eye contact for long.

“Why?” He questions softly.

“I want to agree to it now, when… when your desire is the only motivator. I don’t want to offer myself as some kind of revenge against a man I cannot remember, that I do not want to remember. Something in me just wants to be able to offer myself up this way.

“Freely.

“Truly.

“Honestly.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Breathing in slowly and letting it out just as slowly. “You’re certain?”

You nod. “All I have right now are the barest parts of myself, and it’s what I want.”

He’s quiet a moment longer before he stands up and sheds his shirt. There’s something in the tattoo on his chest that rustles through your memories, the hearts on his shoulders stir something different, but you’re not trying to hold onto any of it.

Just him.

His gaze finds yours for a moment, and he leans over you, a question on his lips that he decides to keep to himself. His chest is warm against yours as he leans down and kisses you, fingers slipping through your hair and cradling your head as he pushes against your lips with more heat.

His other hand pulls the blanket off you, causing you to gasp at the rush of cool air. His tongue follows in past your parted lips and your gasp turns into a soft moan. The fervent kiss is gentle, and controlling. He kisses you how he wishes to, and you let him.

Your hands flex in the cuffs, but instead of admonishing you he shifts, and runs his hands down your arms, easily reaching over the table to do so. He breaks the kiss a little, leaning back enough to look into your eyes and kiss the tip of your nose.

“Stay still.” He whispers, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and letting his words fall gently into your ear. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“Room.” He commands and you feel your whole world shift.

Your mind isn’t sure how to comprehend what follows. Like the fever dreams of earlier, but even more surreal. Law takes you apart piece by piece, but it doesn’t hurt. There’s no tension or pain, and he seems to set the pieces of you exactly where he wants them. He holds onto one of your hands, and kisses a soft trail along your skin that comes into your senses from everywhere.

A kiss at your collarbone is then against the back of your thigh. A soft sigh warms the skin of your shoulder and your knee at the same time. Whenever your fingers tighten against his he reassures you, promising that you’ll be fine. Nothing will move in a way that will exacerbate your injuries. All you will feel is pleasure, and he’ll put you back exactly as you were.

But for now, for these moments, he’s going to explore all of you. There’s intimacy in his actions on a level you’d never experienced before. He was literally inside you, against the lines of your organs, caressing the bundles of your muscles. Nothing burned, nothing ached, it was a warm touch and gentle sensation.

Fingers, teeth, tongue – Law systematically seemed to commit your body to every sense he could manage. He breathed in your skin after licking along the lines he had created, savoring the sounds that fell from your lips.

By the time your brain could make sense of the sensations he was putting you back together. It had been euphoric in its own way, but you just hadn’t been sure how to parse the strange shifts of pleasure as they moved smoothly from one part of you to another. Especially when none of those parts were normally connected to one another.

“Are you alright, snow drop?” He questions softly, having freed your arm so he could hold your hand as he sat down beside you. His face was flush. He almost looked drunk on something.

You nod. “Comfortable.” You begin, giving him a sleepy smile. “I feel comfortable.”

He smiles, but your sleepy smile twists and tears slide down the sides of your face despite your efforts. You take in a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down.

“Sorry, sorry, I just…” Law’s fingers tighten against yours and he runs his other hand over your hair soothingly.

“It’s okay.” He assures you. “You have nothing to apologize fo-.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” You sob. “I don’t even know why, but…” Biting your lip you look away. You aren’t sure what the shock on his face says, and you didn’t even mean to say what you said in the first place. Your mouth had simply moved before your brain could stop it.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, and once you’ve gotten yourself back under control again you squeeze his hand.

“I’m… That was cruel of me.” You admit quietly. “I only, er, we only agreed to what we agreed to. Whether I can remember all of the details or not doesn’t mah-ma-matter.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but tears burned in your eyes and down to your chest at the end of your words.

Law takes your hand into both of his, head bowed and pressed against your knuckles as he sits beside you. You’re not even sure he really heard what you just said, but he’s silent for what seems like forever before he looks toward you again.

“You really want to stay with me?” He questions.

You sniffle and nod.

He reaches out, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that the Heart Seat left the family for emotional reasons.”

“But, you-.”

“I already betrayed them by freeing you.” He interrupts. “And for the same reasons I’m willing to do this. So don’t worry.”

[pokeglitchden]

It's quiet at the Ruins of Alph. The sky crackles with static outside, the lighting already garish and far too bright. It is the same unnerving oversaturation that fills the Between Biome of Glitch City.

It shouldn't be so quiet here. Outside the ruins are mountain sized pokemon searching for refuge, mimics attempting to blend into their surroundings. Panic could be heard rising from Violet City.

But the Ruins were quiet. As if something were missing from them. All that linger are a few Unown that resemble triangles and bizarre mixes of other more familiar letters. It's a comfort to know they're still here. At least that is still here.

Simon stumbles of Gilligan's back, and limps his way into the ruins, (as fast as he can with a body still recovering from a surprise surgery). He makes no hesitation, retrieving Gilligan's pokeball and tossing a spare Hyper Potion to the ground.

He begins the ritual he'd done a thousand times by now. In times of strife, times of difficulty and fear, throughout every crisis, not once had it failed him.

It could not fail now.

He recalls the item to the Pokeball instead of his Pokemon, moves the slot, and then follows a winding path of steps that zig zag about the ruins that seems to lead nowhere. He approaches the threshold, leaps through and...

Staggers.

Because nothing is there.

He'd done nothing wrong, but he checks the Pokeball anyway. It displays no error code, though the item is inside. He is still at the ruins. A wrong step should have at least taken him to another point on the map

He tries again. Faster this time, reset from the beginning, recall the item, move the slot, follow the steps and leap through the threshold.

Nothing.

Again.

His heart is beating faster as dread starts to fill him. He can see Gilligan gazing through the entrance to the ruins, trilling worriedly.

He runs through the steps a third time. A fourth time, the fifth time he can no longer retain his balance after leaping. He stumbles against the wall of the ruins, barely remaining upright.

"Let me IN!" He shouts at last, frustration mounting as he slams a first against the wall, "Professor Zzazz?? �aver??? Triss?? I'm trying to get in!! I'm trying! Just hold on I'm..."

He stumbles, and feels himself starting to crumple.

"I'm trying!!"

He sinks to his knees.

It doesn't work. Nothing works.

Glitch City was gone.

An agonized cry fills the Ruins as Simon slams a fist against the paneled stone wall again. And then curls inwards, shaking with rage, with sobs, with terror. They are the cries of a man who knows he has just lost everything

"Please, Professor I am begging you." He whispers, "Please I cannot do this without you. How do I fix this?"

Not even the stone replies. And Simon, trembling, knows he is alone.

[the-firebird69]

Here you can see our son's right leg and from the inside looking at the side of it and he has some warts and it's not good mostly they are starting to die off and it's good and really we need them out okay what a pain in the ass. You people shout your mouth off every few seconds you need it shot off and we're going to start doing that.

And back to the leg here of his and the calf you can see there's some shape on the bottom and the top and it wasn't there until probably 2 years ago but now it's becoming more accentuated and larger and his neck is pretty big I think we haven't gotten there yet and it's true it's over 16 inches probably 16 and a half and most bodybuilders that you've seen who are a little shorter than him but giant have 15 and a half inch calves he's in performance status with regards to the Cavs the rest of them could use some work they say it too and former bodybuilders and bodybuilders who are walking around so he's got gigantic calves and Ken does too they're huge and they're overworked by the way soon it will be different

Thor Freya

We are working with him and things and we need to start hustling these people around he doesn't have anybody doing that and he needs it we need to help him develop and we did throughout his earlier years and he needs it now and Hera does too we've been helping her a lot more though and she appreciates it and feels better but she's alone and it's not a good place and she wants to be here and she wants to come down and with her characters and she should and we're going to make it so she can shortly and so he can develop with her and she can too and we know what we're doing it is a tough time and we have a lot of enemies now and a lot of people that need to go and we're working on it and we have to get to it and his announcements today were great this Air supply that these Max have isolated them and they're threatening remotely they have still a huge fleet and we will have to engage in the foreigners will and they are in places and we are in places but they're small engagements still they're up to a billion each and there are five today between the both parties or all three that is but it's going to increase shortly and it really needs to these empire people are nuts and we are going to have to stop them whether they like it or not and yeah we have seen them do things and you just I do want to say more at his cows are giant they're good sized they're not giant but they're big for real at six foot they're only going to be a couple more anxious on diameter and really that's about it as big as you want them to get bigger in his recovery time will be a lot quicker and let him a lot less pain and he's going to start growing more very soon but about 10% of this growth has been the past 3 or 4 days and people who have noticed

Zig Zag

Olympus

Is making jokes and we're laughing he says what is going on with me I cannot believe it and it's kind of in a lot of movies with these guys but really when they're changing they're changing a lot it's kind of funny cuz he said it to us we were laughing already because the changes are very slow and hard to notice and people are asking us quite a bit today and where's the change and we don't see anything and he's playing a couple out pointed a couple out and we're talking about later he says and we started laughing these were phones are going to ask all the time and they don't want to do they don't want to know then they want to know everything to try and find them and that's what it is and they're watching candy just looks like some fat guy so they probably find the Hulks you know about them. They're extremely violent people and very deadly and can grow real fast and watch out you idiots and it looks like you're captured them all eventually it is not that many of them and it's a pity they would have helped us more if that happens they can withstand the radiation and he was right they have jobs and their loyal to the realm

Bill

I wish you wouldn't but I see what it does people are competing I feel a bit like a girl and a hot one and yeah you don't look so good right now I don't think our women like you the way you look he says why do I look like one of these Mac fatties and it's really true that's going to be a difficult time

The Rock

Olympus

[soulgathered-archived]

[ok pretend im on @upboundline]

thanatos considers himself a profoundly patient individual. he exists outside of time and is thus generally oblivious to its flow, day and night never existing, to say nothing of years. and yet, somehow, zagreus manages to test even this immutable fact of patience.

somehow, thanatos finds himself at the end of a rope he didn't even know existed. zagreus keeps— keeps teasing him. which he really wouldn't have even considered that as an option, would have assumed zag's intent straightforward or perhaps assume zagreus had simply gotten bored of romancing him and moved along and that's why he's not been giving more than passing comments or touches, but no. there is still an undertone of flirting (don't ask how long it took and how much second-guessing was involved for thanatos to even figure out how to identify flirting with any confidence), and the glitter of something mischevious in zagreus's expression every time he makes himself scarce with a final glance at thanatos over his shoulder.

is this, thanatos hesitates to presume, what meg meant with 'he likes being a brat'? thanatos lets it go for probably longer than zagreus wanted, but he's just... surely it can't be that and it's only proper for thanatos to keep himself constrained and perfectly polite. because. that's his job. or something. and he doesn't want to scare zagreus off.

until zagreus manages (to his credit, it's possibly the most determined he's been at anything aside from getting to the surface) to find the end of thanatos's patience. the lean close that didn't turn into a kiss when thanatos was sure it had to, zag's warm fingers tangling with his but only to press another probably-ill-gotten bottle of ambrosia into thanatos's grip. it's just one too many when zag falls back to his feet and gives a cheery "later!" that makes the last thread of thanatos's patience break.

"no," thanatos says, tightening his grip around zagreus's hand (the bottle nearly avoids breaking, but more incidentally than intentionally) as his other hand grabs zagreus's chiton and hauls him close. "not later, now, zag." there's not enough time or space to reply before thanatos is shoving their lips together for their first proper kiss in what feels like ages. he'd come back to himself quickly and apologize for forcing, too, were it not for the fact that he catches zag's victorious little laugh in one of the spaces for a breath. he had been doing that on purpose-! so thanatos is fine with taking the prince's time, and with giving an admonishing bite to zag's lower lip for playing with him before deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue over zag's lips. he wants to taste him, make up for time spent without.

zagreus knows that thanatos has a patience unmatched by any other god ( which does not say much. none of them are particularly patient ...except death ). meg had warned him about it. she had told him 'you know being patient is his whole thing, right?' but the prince had given himself a new mission.

besides ransacking his father's house he would now ransack death's feelings. nothing that could go wrong with that!

he did nearly falter a couple of times, when than's expression suggested that he started to doubt if zagreus still wanted to be with him. but as it turned out whenever the prince simply flirted just a bit more, presented him with a gift at that very moment, thanatos returned to his usual slight confusion at the gesture and that annoyance that he cannot figure out what zagreus is scheming.

blood and darkness, does death have the ability to wait though. if it had not been for his own stubbornness and pride to see this through, zagreus would have caved a while back and dragged thanatos those cursed inches down that he floated above him just to kiss him.

luckily for the prince it seemed like death's patience was just a bit shorter than his own stubborn goal. he grins proudly when thanatos finally kisses him and without hesitation he wraps his arms around him, being able to properly hold the other again, feel his skin underneath his fingers and the greed with which he is kissed makes whatever time has passed worthwhile.

zag chuckles into the kiss and parts his lips more than readily for death to conquer. oh he definitely won't hear the end of this for a while. "if you are so unhappy with what I did, would you care to show me in great detail how upset it made you? perhaps in my room?" alright. not the smoothest he's ever been but he really does want thanatos for himself right about now.

[elvesofnoldor]

only in hades game do you have the shade of achilles, telling you, the son of hades, how to do a mini rpg romance with your childhood best friend thanatos, the embodiment of death, who by the way has the fashion sense of a hot topic employee and the temperament of a emotionally constipated college student.

 Time and time again im amazed by this game’s unlimited potential in being a tumblr shit post. 

[weelittleweasley]

Always Be Here | Fred x Reader

Requested by @pxroxide-prinxcesss: The war is over and the dust has settled. Many were dead and your mind cannot help but go to dark places; you may have lost Fred. But when you see him after the war, he is just as thrilled to see you alive as you are to see him.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content (soft smut), language, mention of death, blood

Word Count: 2.7k

It was over. The Dark Lord was dead. The good had prevailed through the darkness that contaminated your world for four years. You could finally breathe without the fear of your last breath being taken from you by a Death Eater. It was all over.

But with the victory came losses. People fought valiantly for the good and died heroes. Classmates, professors, parents, siblings all fought the good fight and did so with courage and bravery. But you couldn’t help but have tears well up in your eyes when you looked around and saw so much death. People carrying bodies out of sight, running others to the infirmary to prevent them from the inevitable, loved ones crying over bodies of the recently deceased.

As you looked around, anxiety and fear rose in your throat and your chest became tight. Your mind immediately went to a horrific dark place and you thought of Fred. Where was he? Was he alive?

You ran into friends and classmates, relieved to see them alive, hugging them as you encountered them. Sharing an embrace and tears streaming down your face to see them, you would prematurely pull away and ask, “Have you seen Fred?” Nervous for you, they would shake their heads no as your heart sank further and further into your stomach. A pit grew in your stomach and you grew increasingly impatient. Where was your boy? He had to be alive. He just had to be.

Running around the castle, you make your way around rubble and fallen stones, desperate to find your Weasley. Where could he be? You felt nauseous, your head fuzzy, vision blurry from the impending tears that threatened to fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks. “Fred?” you call out, now in sheer hope that he would call back out for you. No response. Your breathing becomes more rapid with the rise and fall of your chest as you dart around the castle grounds. “Fred!” Nothing.

Your eyes scan your surroundings before catching the eyes of another Weasley, but not your Fred. “(Y/N)!” Ron yells out a smile on his face to see you alive, dried blood all over his face. You exhale a small sigh of relief when you see Ron as you run towards him to embrace him. “Thank Merlin, you’re alive.”

As you squeeze Ron tight, you start to cry a little harder, hoping that he would have the answer to the question that plagued your mind. “Ron,” you pull away from him. “Where’s Fred?”

Ron smiles and that’s when you let go of the breath you were holding. He was alive. “Come on,” Ron grabs your hand as he zig zags through the castle to bring you to where you assumed Fred was.

Pulling you into what once was the Great Hall, Ron stops in his tracks and looks at your face as you scan the room. And that’s when you see him. He’s sat next to George, head in his hands, leg shaking nervously, probably thinking the same thing that you thought about him moments ago. He’s pulling on his ginger hair in distress, but George stops him by pushing his shoulder and pointing in your direction. 

Fred looks up and meets your gaze. As he does so, you let a happy sob escape your lips as you cover your mouth to stifle it. Fred’s face immediately relaxes and you see him mouth, “Thank bloody Merlin.” 

Without hesitation, you start running to him and he rises to his feet to meet you halfway. Your feet couldn’t carry you faster to your love as you wrap your arms around his neck, him wrapping his arms around your waist, picking you up instantly. You wrap your legs around his long torso and burry your face in his neck as he holds you. Sobbing into his neck, you manage to speak through sobs, “Freddie, I thought I lost you.”

Fred strokes your hair to soothe you, like he always did when you were upset. His other arm holds you up with barely any effort, squeezing you impossibly closer to him. There was no way he was letting you go. “I told you I was going to see you at the end of this,” Fred calmly speaks, but tears are also streaming down his cheeks as he thanks Merlin that you were alive at the end of the brutality of this war. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

You stay in his arms for a little while longer, not caring who watched you or how long you were there for. Your love was alive and okay and that’s all that mattered. You two came out of this alive. Fred gently puts you down, but still keeps his hands on you, hands resting on your waist tightly. The two of you look at the other’s face as if it were the first time seeing it. His eyes were intensely looking into yours with so much love, you couldn’t help but want to cry again. Your heart swelled with how much love you had for this boy. Pulling your attention away from his face, you notice the large gash he has on his forehead, fresh blood still trickling down the side of his forehead. “Freddie, you’re bleeding,” you cup his cheek and gently touch his forehead.

“Me and the rest of the people here, darling,” he rolls his eyes as you shake your head. Of course, he would joke about this right now. “I’m fine, I promise. All I care about is that you’re here and you’re okay.”

The two of you make your way to the rest of the Weasley family as you embrace George tightly. “Glad you’re alright, (Y/N). If you weren’t, I don’t know what Fred would have done,” George confesses as you decide not to think about if one of you had not made it. 

But now was not a time to think of the pain. You were grateful to be alive and even more thankful that Fred was next to you, holding your hand, kissing your forehead at the end of it. You were alive.

---------

That night, you found yourself in the comfort of the Burrow in Fred’s old bedroom. There was no way you were spending the night apart after today. Fred needed you by his side at all times, too scared to let you go. You had to insist that he took a shower without you much to his dismay for multiple reasons. 

It had been a while since you were in this room after Fred and George moved out of the Burrow and into their own flat above the joke shop. But the Burrow was always home. It’s where you and Freddie had your first kiss, where he asked you to be his girlfriend, where you two had slept with each other for the first time. The Burrow had become not only home to your boyfriend, but to you as well. 

Interrupting your thoughts, Fred emerges from the bathroom and into his bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist as he shut the door behind him. Fred looks at you and a warm smile appears on his face. “Hello, gorgeous,” he beams.

“Hi, Freddie,” you smile back as he sits on the bed beside you before you place a sweet his to his lips. You push his wet ginger hair out of his face, combing it back with your fingers. The two of you sit in silence for a moment before you break the quiet. “I can’t believe it’s over. It’s really done with, huh?”

Fred lets out a light laugh, “Yeah. I just can’t believe how much destruction there was. Hogwarts is in shreds. It’s crazy to see somewhere you called home look like that.” You nod your head. Even though the two of you had graduated from Hogwarts a few years ago, your memories of being a student were vivid as ever. Especially the ones you made with your friends and Fred. “It’s where we fell in love,” Fred adds, making you blush. He smiles and kisses your rosy cheeks. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

You stroke Fred’s cheek gently and lightly smile at the beautiful boy in front of you. He leans into your touch and lets out a small sigh, the two of you looking at the other lovingly. “You’re the love of my life, Fred. There’s no one out there for me but you,” you admit to him. Fred knew that you loved him more than words could say, but every time you confessed it to him, it gave him butterflies.

He kisses the palm of your hand before pulling you onto his lap, you straddling him as the thin fabric of the towel covers his lower half. “And you are the love of my life, (Y/N). I will never love anyone like I love you. And I will say that until my last breathe. I love you,” Fred tells you, squeezing your hips as your heart swells with so much love. You were the only people in the world right now. You don’t know what to say to him. But that wasn’t a problem because Fred had something to say. “Marry me.”

His words make your heart stop for a moment and your eyes widen in shock. It takes you a moment to process his words. Your mouth is agape as you search for words. “What?” you manage to speak. That’s all you can say. What was happening?

“I know, it’s crazy, and I wanted to wait until we returned to some sense of normalcy before I asked you, but it felt right,” Fred admit. “I don’t have a ring, but I’ll get you whatever ring you like. I don’t care, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, (Y/N). The war made me realize that I don’t know what I would do without you if I lost you. You are everything to me and I want to be with you forever,” he rambles. “Marry me.”

The proposition was crazy, but you were crazier for Fred. This was the easiest question you were ever asked. “Yes. Done. Yes, Fred. Of course. Yes,” you excitedly answer, gripping onto his shoulders as you beam, laughing like a child as Fred joins you. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Fred repeats before pressing his lips onto yours for a sweet kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you in closer by your hips. The kiss turns more passionate as you open your mouth gently, letting Fred’s tongue enter your mouth, swirling around it as you tangle your fingers in his still wet hair. Fred lightly moans into your mouth as you rub your hips against his. “I love you,” he speaks again before kissing down your neck as you tilt your head, giving him more access to your exposed flesh. 

Fred pulls your shirt over your head, revealing your bare top, sitting on his lap now with just panties on. His eyes rake up and down your body before kissing across your chest and onto your full breasts. He takes one of your breasts in his large hand, massaging it as he takes the nipple of the other in his mouth, sucking and licking the sensitive area. You tangle your fingers in his hair deeper, pulling at his roots as you moan, rolling your head backwards. “Fuck, Freddie,” you moan out, continuing to roll your hips against his towel covered pelvis. 

Before you can say anything else, Fred has you underneath him as he tosses his towel to the floor. His erection hits his stomach, hard for you already. Fred kisses you again deeply, tongue sloppily massaging yours before pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to make love to you,” he whispers in your ear as you gulp. His words make your heat even more wet. You nod your head up and down. He huskily chuckles before placing a kiss to your jawline. 

He kisses down your neck as you reach out and start stroking his hard cock. Fred groans at the sensation of your hand wrapped around his dick, resisting the urge to thrust himself into your wet pussy. You stroke his cock, slowly, up and down, in a circular motion, making Fred let out a low groan into your neck. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes as you continue to pump his member.

You start to pick up the speed, but Fred stops you. “I wanna come inside of you,” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom as he rolls it onto his hard length. 

He lines himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing himself into your dripping wet heat. You moan out in satisfaction, arching your back gently. Fred always filled you up delightfully. The sight of you writhing in pleasure was enough to get Fred off. “Oh, Fred,” you breathe out. “Move, baby.”

Fred obeys and starts slowly thrusting in and out of you. Each thrust is gentle, but feels euphoric. Fred laces his fingers with yours as he pushes in and out of you. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I love you,” he tells you between breaths.

His other hand snakes down your stomach until he reaches your clit, rubbing slow figure eights on it as your eyes screw shut. Fred knew exactly how you liked it and he lived to make you feel good. “Shit, baby, just like that, don’t stop,” you moan out as Fred continues to pump in and out of you and rub your clit. “Faster, please, Fred, fuck, please.”

Fred starts to thrust faster, his hips colliding into yours with each thrust, filling you up with his cock deliciously. Fred lets out low moans as he fucks you, pressing kisses to your jawline with each thrust. “Say my name,” he whispers in your ear.

“Fred, baby, yes,” you moan out, letting his name fall out of your mouth. He moans at the sound of his name falling out of your pretty little mouth. “Fred, you make me feel so good. I love you so much, baby. I love you.”

It’s music to Fred’s ears as he takes you like this, making you grip the sheets in pleasure. You arch your back up and Fred takes this opportunity to suck hard on one of your nipples, still drawing lazy circles on your clit, dick rocking in and out of you. You are overstimulated with pleasure, eyes rolling back, toes curled up. “Look at me, baby, look at me,” he pleads. “I wanna watch you come.”

You peel your eyes open and look into Fred’s eyes as he fucks you like this. Small moans escape your mouth with each thrust and Fred lets out a deep groan as he watches your eyebrows furrow in absolute pleasure, mouth agape as he makes love to you on his bed. “I’m gonna come, baby, fuck,” you tell him.

“Come for me,” he speaks. “Come all over me, princess. Moan my name, go on,” he growls. 

With that, you release all over his dick, rolling your head back as you moan, “Oh, Freddie, fuck.” Fred continues to thrust in and out of you before releasing into his condom moments after you, pleasure shuddering through his body as you watch him release, screwing his eyes shut and nuzzling his face into your neck as he comes. 

The two of you are breathless, chests heavy rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. Fred pulls out of you and rolls beside you, tossing the condom away. He wastes no time pulling you into his chest, cuddling you close next to him, kissing your forehead as you snuggle into his chest, wrapping your arms around him. “I love you, darling. I love you so much,” he tells you. “I promise I’m gonna make you the happiest woman in the world. I swear on my life.”

You smile into his chest before looking up at the man you love. “I love you much more. I can’t wait to spend forever with you,” you confess as he presses a kiss to your lips. “You’re my forever.”

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Chilling in Yiling

We start off with Wei Wuxian hanging out in a busy area of Yiling, which is a really dumb place to pick for a fugitive rendezvous.  

He's wearing a fashionably distressed brown robe, and a woven disguise hat, that makes him invisible to his enemies until the moment he takes it off, kinda like the mask he wears in his second life. Unfortunately he is a polite boi so he takes off the disguise hat when he goes indoors to get a bite to eat, and promptly gets smacked down by Wen Zhuliu. 

Xiao Zhan's stunt double is really good at this wire-pull+table-smash move; this is the second time Wei Wuxian goes crashing through a table (the first one being when Yu Ziyuan was beating him). This time he clutches his now core-less abdomen, in a move we're going to be seeing a lot of, going forward. Abdominal surgery is a bitch. OP can personally attest to this.

Wen Zhuliu provides some comic relief by looking at his hand in puzzlement; he clearly can tell Wei Wuxian has no golden core, but he isn't going to bother telling Wen Chao that.

Wen Chao gloats and steps on Wei Wuxian's hand while Wei Wuxian stares at his shoe and OP wonders, not for the first time, how they make rubberized zig-zag treads in Ancient Fantasy China.

(more after the cut)

This is all happening in the Yiling Wine house where Wei Wuxian will later share the most important meal of his life, the one in which A-Yuan lays claim to Lan Wangji, ultimately giving LWJ a reason to live long enough for Wei Wuxian to be resurrected. If that doesn’t deserve a good Yelp review, nothing does. 

Dream a Little Dream of Me

While Wei Wuxian gets ready for his big whump scene, Jiang Cheng is dreaming, and looking absolutely breathtaking in this deceptively simple robe, that's made of a really complex fabric, that catches the light all over its surface.  The lighting here is warm and romantic, giving everything a nostalgic glow.

He looks around the courtyard in his dream, and sees Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian come running in the gate carrying kites. 

A child fetching a kite was the first casualty of the Wen attack on Lotus Pier, so this image may already be a little fraught for Jiang Cheng. In this initial image of his family, Jiang Cheng isn't present as a child, but then his junior self comes running up, to be warmly greeted by his mother.

Jiang Cheng's reaction to the scene playing out in front of him is not a simple one. We've seen him externally expressing his trauma at the fate of Lotus Pier and his family - his anger and his despair - and this dream shows us his private, interior trauma. 

His body has been repaired by Wei Wuxian and the Wens, but his psyche has not.

This family interaction can't possibly be one that ever happened. It's too lively, too affectionate, too comfortable. The family he was part of as a young adult was cold, angry, cracked.  Families don't change that much in 10 years, unless there's a major trauma that alters things in a fundamental way.

Even the glimpses we got of his childhood contradict this image. This warm group is not the family of "I sent your dogs away" or "wait in the cold until Jiang Cheng lets you in" or "I won't tell Clan Leader Jiang what happened" or "I'm only 11 but I'm in charge of soup and bedtime already"

Jiang Cheng smiles at the affection he sees enacted in front of him, but quickly moves to grief. When a toxic person dies, you don't just lose the relationship you had with them; you lose the hope for a better relationship. Perhaps Jiang Cheng has always imagined this version of his family; now nothing like it can ever come to be.

The pleasant scene vanishes into nightmare, as his mother starts bleeding from her eyes, ew. This is like Nie Mingjue when he qi deviates, but dream Yu Ziyuan is perfectly chill about it. 

Jiang Cheng is not perfectly chill about it. 

He turns around to see Lotus Pier burning. When he turns back, his family has been replaced with Wen Zhuliu, who is particularly gleeful as he reaches into Jiang Cheng's chest and melts his core.

Jiang Cheng wakes up on the mountain, alone (as far as he knows), and quickly stands and boots up his new golden core.

It's purple, because of course it is. King. The nightmare is gone and he smiles, maybe for the first time since the attack on the pier.

In a moment that is probably going to feel really embarrassing in hindsight, he kneels and bows toward the mountaintops to thank Baoshan Sanren, who is totally not there. 

Wen Ning, on the other hand, is there, although we only see a little bit of his belt and robe as Jiang Cheng walks off to Yiling to meet his brother.  This entire plotline walks a very weird line in which the audience is told just enough about what’s really happening to be confused, but not surprised.

Do the Whumpty Whump

After some initial roughing up, Wen Chao has his dudes stand Wei Wuxian up so he can question him without actually getting any information out of him at all. They take turns calling each other dogs, with Wei Wuxian saying that when Wen Chao talks he just hears a dog barking. (Of course if he really heard a dog barking he'd be terrified) 

Then he says "isn't that right" to Wang Lingjiao, and Wen Chao gets super pissed; don't disrespect me to my woman. 

He has his minions do a Nancy Kerrigan to Wei Wuxian's knee and then kick him for a while.

Then they kick the shit out of the camera operator.

Wen Chao is really not about fighting his own fights.  He also keeps threatening to have Wen Zhuliu melt Wei Wuxian's core, and Wen Zhuliu keeps popping up his hand and then putting it back when Wen Chao changes his mind, which gets more hilarious every time I watch it. Feng Mingjing’s physical embodiment of Wen Zhuliu is endlessly entertaining, even in scenes where he has literally no lines. 

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

Wei Wuxian continues to goad Wen Chao, telling him that more torture is good because then he'll die with loads of resentment. He says that after he dies, he will come back as a ferocious ghost, which is...almost exactly what happens, except he stays alive for the ferocious part. 

They go back and forth about the feasibility of this whole haunting plan. Wang Lingjiao is the voice of reason, for once, arguing the "ghosts aren't real and anyway fuck this guy" position.

Wen Chao thinks that he can’t haunt them because of cultivator security hardening procedures soul-calming rituals, but Wei Wuxian wasn't born into a gentry family so didn't have the anti-fierce-ghost treatment that other cultivators get.

This is the only time in the whole of the show when Wei Wuxian says, himself, that he's the son of a servant. He's using his reputation as a commoner to bolster his threats. 

Wei Wuxian is working hard to put on a scary-guy persona, which works pretty well on Wang Lingjiao but not as much on the rest of the group. Three months from this time, however, he will have become the scary, vengeful creature he's currently spitballing about.  He will also become way, way better at torture than the people who are currently mistreating him. 

Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao go through a whole sequence of ideas about what to do with him. For whatever reason Wang Lingjiao doesn't insist on chopping his arm off even though she's been craving it for ages. 

She does gleefully burn his burn some more, causing it to bleed directly into the giant obvious bag he has hanging from his belt leaking resentful energy. Which the Wens do not take away or search.

Wen Chao, incidentally, starts calling him Wei Ying during this encounter, which is rude of him. Tch.  Finally Wen Chao decides on a plan, which involves sword-flying effects so terrible that no soul can survive them.

Jiang Cheng is looking for Wei Wuxian in town, wearing a woven hat like Wei Wuxian’s.  This...is not a disguise. If you want to be inconspicuous, maybe take that giant piece of silver off of your head.

He hears random people talking about the Wens being in town, and then he apparently looks up at the sky and sees the Wen dudes flying on their swords with Wei Wuxian, but it looks so ridiculous that Jiang Cheng's mind cannot process what he is seeing.

While they "fly," Wen Chao delivers a massive brick of exposition about the burial mounds, while Wei Wuxian looks genuinely frightened. The VFX of random, undifferentiated mountaintops and clouds do nothing to sell this menace, but the exposition is actually pretty good, creating a real sense of disturbance and threat.

Then they toss him in, and we go from the terrible VFX of sword flying to a visual effect that they mercifully did really well throughout the show - the black resentment smoke. This time it catches Wei Wuxian and holds him for a few moments, before dropping him the rest of the way to the ground. It also apparently pulls the turtle sword out of his belt bag, but we don't see that part.

They Say That Every Man Must Fall

Having seen Wei Wuxian at his lowest point (so far) and dream Jiang Cheng also in deep distress, we go to the Dafan Wen sibs, who have also reached a breaking point. Because they helped Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, they are traitors to their clan - unquestionably so - and are being punished for it, with Wen Ning having been tortured in addition to being locked up.

I see my light come shining From the west down to the east Any day now, any day now I shall be released

You know how Lan Xichen successfully argued for Wen-Clan-Member Meng Yao's life and status, because Meng Yao betrayed Wen Ruohan to help them? Even though Meng Yao killed a bunch of Nie guys? Wen Ning and Wen Qing also betrayed Wen Ruohan and helped the Sunshot Campaign, without killing a bunch of guys. They should have been treated as allies by the four other clans, but they got diddly.  

I’ve Been Dead Once

We return to Wei Wuxian in the burial grounds, where he's lying on the ground surrounded by resentful energy and by strained, desperate voices calling his name. This whole sequence is remarkable, since it effectively communicates the horror he's experiencing, through little more than Xiao Zhan's face and good sound design.

I hang around dying to be tortured  You'll never be alone in the bone orchard

The voices call four versions of his name. A variety of voices call him Wei Wuxian, Wei Gongzi, and Shixiong, which (I think) is what the young Jiang disciples would have called him. And in the midst of those voices, Lan Wangji's voice, low and calm, saying "Wei Ying." Upon hearing that Wei Wuxian starts to drag himself up.

For a show with definitely no zombies in it, they sure do use the visual language of zombie films for Wei Wuxian's first motions after hitting the ground. Starting with twitching fingers, then gradually pulling himself halfway up and crawling, lurching across the ground. Wei Wuxian comes slowly back to life, the very first member of his army of the dead.

He makes his way across the ground toward the floating turtle sword. Along the way he accidentally grabs the world's most bowlegged thigh bone; the lack of sunshine in the burial mounds puts the skeletons at risk for rickets.  All of the skeletons in the show are exactly what you would expect from the practical effects team that made the demon hand and the animatronic dog.

The turtle sword is roiling with resentful energy, and is talking to Wei Wuxian as he crawls toward it, asking if he wants revenge. And what a coincidence, he DOES want revenge. 

He grabs the sword and plunges it into the ground in an explosion of resentful energy. (Ground: why you gotta take it out on me?)

The sequence ends with the most compelling, ominous shot of Wei Wuxian's face...a new man. 

Soundtrack: 1. I Shall Be Released by Bob Dylan 2. Beyond Belief by Elvis Costello  

Writing Prompt: The Day Wei Wuxian arrived, from the POV of a Burial Mounds ghost. 

[etherealxgenie]

Why Lila is Marinette’s Own Fault || Miraculous Why?

(Before I begin, note that this is my opinion over the topic and am no way am bashing anyone’s love for the ship and/or character. I respect who and what you like, therefore expect the same courtesy. However, if this is something you cannot handle, please click the back button as this will be a heavily discussed topic. No flames allowed. Other than that, enjoy.)

So usually in the story, there’s always one or two mean girls who is out to get the main character for some kind of superior reasons to justify. And there’s no reason as to why they act this way just for the sake of being mean.

Like the Ashleys from “Recess”, who tend to pick on kids just for the fun of it sometimes or cause they’re popular.

Same can go for Libby from “Sabrina The Teenage Witch” who was out to get something for what she wants or just to be superior to the other kids in school.

For Miraculous, we already have that kind of character, Chloe Bourgeois, who is the daddy’s girl of the Mayor to get what she wants. And until we had some small character development in season two (which season 3 took it away!!), we had no reason feeling sorry for her and she was just for the convenient plot in the social life for Marinette in the series.

And then… there’s Lila.

Before I get into hand in this, let me note that Lila is not a good person at all in the show. She’s a liar, a manipulator and will do whatever she can to get what she wants. She breaks into homes, steals and molests pretty models. She’s been pretty shown to be just selfish without consequences and unless we get a background story of why she acts this way, she has no excuse. Especially when she teams up with hawkdaddy to now have permission to invade and spy on Adrien whenever she wants? Fuck that.

So in Volpina, Lila is introduced as this pathological liar to get attention in season one. She obviously goes for Adrien cause he’s the famous model after all. Reasonable considering as the new person looking for attention, you seek out the most popular/famous person in the school. That would Adrien.

Though considering with her connections, it would’ve been smarter to try and impress Marinette instead if Lila did her research before she came into the scene. But of course, new person so she wouldn’t know, but whatever.

And we can see Lila easily just says things just to get Adrien’s approval and such.

And so, Marinette follows them around (stalking? really?) because Tikki points out Lila has the book Adrien took from his father’s vault and threw it in the trash.

Now the SMART thing to do would’ve been to see how Adrien would handle the situation and wait for him to leave, if to acknowledge Adrien has a mind of his own and knows when to walk away (which he does). Or at the very least, try to distract them as Marinette while Tikki retrieved the book.

But… no. You transform into Ladybug to lash out at a girl PUBLICALLY, for anyone including Adrien to hear, just to embarrass her and call her out on her lying because she… “hates liars”.

Marinette, you fucking lie ALL the time! Most of those times to Adrien! And I’m not just talking about when in regard to being Ladybug, you hypocritical- (groans)

I can list plenty of episodes: Gamer, Aninmaestro, Ikari Gozen and hell, even Reverser counts! If she hadn’t lied about Marc’s book, Nathaniel wouldn’t have torn it! (sighs)

And before you all start jumping at me saying Lila got what she deserves, I only agree partially. Ladybug, as a public figure and heroine, practically the face of Paris, acted irrationally lashing out at a bystander because of lies which were or were not believable. Lila was broadcasting a post or making the news, she was trying (poorly) to impress a boy. Ladybug gave Lila the Regina George treatment.

Yeah, so you caused an akumatized situation and Lila hates your guts. Hell, I would hate you too. That’s like a celebrity jumping at an innocent bystander when they’re whispering to their friend about a rumor that only the two of them were talking about. You can’t jump to try and stop them and should just let it dispel on its own. At that point, Lila had no real power but you just influenced her.

And… oh boy did things get worse because of this.

Look season 3 was trash (except for moments in certain episodes) and I feel talking about the infamous ‘Chameleon’ physically hurts me but… yeah gotta point out a few things. The whole episode was unrealistic, and it was an obvious ploy to be sympathetic to Marinette with Lila back… but… you’re not fooling me.

So, Lila is still on her lying game, being able to fool the students and the staff?! Okay if you believe a student has so many disabilities without any paperwork proof, you can actually get fired for that for fraud. As someone who worked with education before, that’s just pure incompetence.

So yeah, Marinette comes to school seeing the seats changes to accommodate Lila and upright begins to plot to discredit her for her lies. UM… what happened to trying to start over with Lila after failing to do so the first time?

Oh, that’s right. She gets that way (at least partly) because Lila is sitting next to Adrien. I can understand if it was because they rearranged the seating without her say so but let’s face it. Lila sitting next to Adrien was her real trigger.

So since Marinette failed to acknowledge her mistake the first time, she spends all day trying to prove Lila is lying and in return the class is angry at her. Alya even comes to point out that Marinette is jealous of Lila.

And you know what? Alya is right.

Alya knows at least what Marinette is capable of doing so when it comes to Adrien and how far she’s willing to go. Remember that Alya is the one who encouraged her to break into his locker and steal his phone. So of course, she’s worried Marinette is gonna do something to the new girl.

I don’t blame Alya for doing one of the most competent things in the show: Warning Marinette to NOT go off the handle without proof and not make herself look bad in the process.

And because Marinette failed to do so… she made Lila her enemy AGAIN. It was bad enough you had her as your enemy as Ladybug, but now you get to deal with twice the drama!

Your own fucking fault, Marinette.

Also, the advice Adrien gave? I don’t blame for him for it and neither should you. Yes, his advice is not perfect, but with the options he has on his plate, its hard to do something otherwise.

For every encounter Adrien has had with Lila, it ended up with her being akumatized or a disaster no matter how he tried to handle her. We didn’t get to see how he would resolve in Volpina because of Ladybug’s intervention, but he would try at least in Chameleon and try to get her to see she didn’t need to lie and actually tried to befriend her. At this point, Lila was already triggered by Ladybug and Marinette so she just might have to take Adrien by force instead.

At that point, Adrien just wants to stay away and which he was trying to tell Marinette don’t interact with Lila or confront her cause there’s no way to do so at this point. Maybe he was trying to tell her to wait until her rumors got discredited, but he didn’t say it clear enough for her to understand.

And keep in mind, Adrien is a sheltered child with little to zero social skills taught to him by Nathalie and Gabriel. Hell, we don’t know how his childhood was really like even with Emelie around either and Adrien seems more like the pacifist unless he needs to absolutely step in. And he did by cleaning up Marinette’s mess in ‘Ladybug’. So now he’s gotta suffer being around Lila more because of Marinette making Lila her enemy.

But once again, this is bad writing as the writers of the show obviously forgot what it’s like to live in reality. In the real world, Lila would be immediately discredited without any proof the moment she came back. Not to mention, some of the class have their own connections and have more braincells proven in the previous episodes. Google search and such. A 5-year-old wouldn’t believe these lies in these times. Hey, I believe that because I once had a kid in kindergarten during my time as an afterschool art teacher look at one of my books I illustrated before and said they liked the ‘graphics’.

Kids are fucking smarter nowadays than you think.

The only reason anyone would believe Lila’s lies is if she’s magically influenced with some kind of ‘silver tongue’ spell or something and honestly? It looks like that’s the reason.

I dunno if Thomas Astruc or Zag is trying to insult the kids/adults or insult themselves to say Paris people aren’t that smart. If it’s the latter, you should see what you are doing because I don’t want to believe that because that’s disrespectful.

I know it seems I’m trying to stand up for Lila this portion, but I’m just looking things in a  more realistic and logical way. Did Lila take things too far? Yes, waaaayyy too far and should be arrested for it since she works for Hawkmoth. But it could’ve been handled better and that makes Marinette at fault too.

Part of me wonders if she’s done this before because in Zombiezou, she also causes Chloe to ruin her gift for Ms. bustier. If Marinette didn’t antagonize Chloe in the locker in front of the class, maybe she wouldn’t have done anything. Again, I’m not saying Chloe was justified, but if that was the reason, yeah I can see her doing it for payback.

So to all those fics where I’m supposed to be ‘Boo-hoo’ for Marinette because of what Lila did? Fuck you guys because you need to dig deeper into the story to see both sides and not just make it a pity party where Marinette is the innocent victim.

It’s called “Cause and Effect”.

And considering she made Lila her enemy, Marinette is gonna get effected enough because that’s how karma works.

[darriness]

Klaine Fic - July Heat Wave - Day 6 - ZigZag

Author: darriness

Word Count: 353

Summary: An accident

Author’s Note: For the Tan Hands and Tan Lines Track B Event. So I haven't been writing (and I am sorry about that) but I wrote this chapter weeks ago and forgot to post it. So I am now. I cannot promise when the next chapter will be written though!

A03 Link

“Shit, piss, fuck!” Kurt exclaims, scrabbling on his knees until he’s kneeling next to Blaine’s hip. His hands flutter uselessly around Blaine’s face.

Blaine, for his part, is currently sitting with his hands cupped around his nose and his eyes pinched shut in pain.

Blaine hums, and the sound gets louder and louder until finally he explodes, “Motherfucker, that hurt!”

Kurt knows it must have hurt for Blaine to swear so easily and with such passion.

“I am so sorry!” Kurt exclaims, “What can I do?”

Blaine brings his hands away from his face, looking at his palms as if expecting to see blood. To be honest, Kurt was expecting the same. Luckily there is no blood, though, and Blaine blinks rapidly while scrunching up his nose slowly once, and then again.

“I don’t think it’s broken.” He finally says.

Kurt lets out a sigh and cups Blaine’s cheek, “I am so, so, so, sorry.”

Blaine brings a hand up to grab Kurt’s wrist and gives him a small smile, “It’s okay. You just...zigged when I thought you were going to zag.”

Kurt huffs out a laugh, “You usually like when I do that.”

Blaine’s smile turns into a smirk, “True, but in the future, maybe we could leave all zigzag motions out of sex.”

“Deal.” Kurt agrees. He still can’t believe he’s head-butted Blaine while riding him, “Kind of ruins the mood, doesn’t it?”

Blaine brings a hand up to lightly touch his nose, doing a final assessment on any damage before shrugging, “You’d think, but…”

His eyes trail down to his lap where his erection, unbelievably, still stands tall.

Kurt raises his eyebrows, “Impressive.” He says.

Blaine lays a hand on Kurt’s thigh, “I’m good to keep going if you are.”

Kurt pouts at Blaine’s face, inspecting his nose for any damage, unsure it’s right to continue.

“I’m fine.” Blaine assures, “Maybe just no…”

Kurt lifts one leg and swings it over Blaine’s hip to straddle him once more, “No zigzagging. Got it.” Kurt agrees before biting his lip gently and guiding Blaine back inside to finish what they started.

[sunfoxfic]

Even Clark Kent has the sense to see that Lex Luthor is bad news and even calls him out from time to time, even though Superman is meant for children just like ML is. Let's face it, if Astruc wrote Superman, then Clark Kent would be completely oblivious to Lex's corrupt nature and he would be Lex's biggest fan. And Lex would have control over the Daily Planet and he would be Clark's boss. If you defend the show's writing that much, then why did you propose for Mari to attack Bezos?

Okay, one, I know next to nothing about DC comics, so what you said means almost nothing to me. I know the characters and roughly the roles they play, but not that.

But there's the thing: Miraculous Ladybug is constantly calling out its rich characters as evil and corrupt. Did you see Mega Leech? Three wealthy adults, one of whom is in an elected position of power, was using technology to fight climate change. None of that is even subtextual. The subtext is that they're doing it for profit but they've bought out the media so thoroughly that hardly anyone knows what they're doing. The hero of the episode is an environmentalist protester. That's pretty fucking anti-capitalist.

And I have no idea which comic or TV show or movie you're referencing when you say that Superman would call out Lex Luthor, but here's the thing: DC isn't owned by a public network. You know what that means, right? Public network. It means that they are directly susceptible to being censored by the government. It's the same reason they can't write a canonically Muslim character but they can make 2 Christmas themed episodes. France isn't this European haven of progressive-ness. They have their own shit to deal with. And their laws can be seriously fucked up at times. So asking Astruc to personally change the show when the reality is that he's at the mercy of all the people above him is ridiculous.

I'm not saying he couldn't be better. I don't think he's at all perfect. There's a lot of fucked up shit he's done and said, and I don't agree with it. But painting him as your enemy only makes it so that other people who are doing the same shit as him get off scot-free. Honestly, I'm far more distrustful of Jeremy Zag than I ever will be of Astruc, and I'm far more likely to campaign against the French government than I am to campaign against either of those lone two men.

And I still think you're being incredibly entitled to the way that the story is told. Not every story needs to be anti-capitalist. I repeat, if every story was anti-capitalist, it would be fucking exhausting. As is, ML is pretty fucking anti-capitalist, but even if it wasn't, that's not a fault of the narrative unless it's actively pushing along a capitalist status quo, and frankly, every TV show created at all is going to push along a capitalist status quo by nature of the way that TV is created. It's funded by capitalists and it has to push their agenda. Sorry to say babe, we live in a global capitalist society. You can't fucking escape it. It is absolutely unfair to say that storytellers should not tell their stories because of this.

Maybe instead of fighting against a single dude who is honestly less consequential than you seem to think, you get the fuck up and actually fight against things that matter. Tell France to change the rules about what can and cannot be published through TFOU, or to drop ML altogether if you feel that strongly about it. But honestly, you'd probably have a better time fighting against Disney and it's entertainment monopoly, because that has huge impacts on the cartoon industry as a whole. Thomas Astruc is not the root of all evil and firing him will not fix TV. I guarantee he makes a LOT of compromises on the show that he doesn't want to make. I don't think he's perfect, but I think that he's a lot less important than you think he is.

But you did the right thing, coming to a 17 year old's askbox on Tumblr and turning on anon. This is definitely where you can best spend your energy fighting against capitalism /s

[funkzpiel]

Today on this episode of "I promise I didn't disappear off the face of the earth I've just been busy and totally lacking creative energy (or brain cells, for that matter) it's terrible, but hello, I did a thing" - I present this:

The Little Deaths of the Pining Flowers

For the Hades Big Bang, in collaboration with kowaiyoukai (their beautiful illustration featured here).

Fandom: Hades Game Pairing: Zagreus/Thanatos Featuring: Pining, Off-Brand Hanahaki Summary: “Does it ever get easier?” Thanatos finally asked one day.

“No,” Achilles said, the gentle hush of his words like the breath of the breeze through meadow reeds, “But it does get easier to hide.”

Death cannot die. No blade can pierce him, no hand strong enough to steal a final breath from the powerful column of his throat, no disease potent enough to mar his flesh. Death, like Time, was fathomless and unending. So long as there was Life, there was Time to observe it and Death to spirit it away.

And so long as there was love, there was pining – and all of its little maladies that follow. Death knew of them, these maladies, these “little deaths” that come before the final breath. Some fleeting, some spanning decades. The gods, in all their brilliance, creativity and cruelty, created love. Love, the painful precipice between life and death. Knit tightly between the two so that from the depths of it might bloom a beautiful, wretched thing: pining flowers . Life sprung from the ashes of despair, fertilized in love and hope unrequited. In doing so, pain became love and love became pain, death and life a reflection of one another more intimate than the eternal dance of the sun and moon itself.

Thanatos had watched these slow, curdling little deaths before. Had watched them ferment into heavy, cloying things that stole the breath from mortals’ chests. Flowers making beautiful wreaths of their lungs, thick with life borne from a love so fierce it could suffocate. Thanatos had watched men and women alike grow frail with it, their bodies made into gardens as they coughed fragile bulbs and blooms from their lips. Thorns were always the worst: roses and the like. Lips turned red, and yet these mortals who simply loved and feared too much could not find it in themselves to cure their aching chests. Could not simply let go of that impossible love – or confess it – to end that prickling, weed-like pain.

He had heard, once, that the gods could fester such illnesses; though flowers could not create homes of their flesh as they did in mortals. Rather they instead bloomed from the excess of the wealth of their power made unstable by their want. Made helpless to the source of their own gifts. But Thanatos had never seen such a thing. Thanatos had never understood. Not until Zagreus left without so much as a word of warning. All at once, it was like the Underworld had been snuffed of some great light. There was no sun beneath the surface of the earth, and yet the darkness and chill felt suddenly so much sharper, keener, without the warmth of Zagreus’ smile. Everything darker, every mercy suddenly harder to reach for, every hope dashed across the rocks like the surf wrecking a ship to ruins against the coast.

Zagreus was gone. His home, his family, his friends – Thanatos – none of it had been enough to keep him here. Thanatos had not been enough.

When the next death bell tolled, Thanatos did something he never did: he hesitated. Struck suddenly frozen by the realization. He had not been enough. Of course, he hadn’t. Zagreus was born of the Underworld, but he was also born of the surface – of life and blood and all things that breathed . Of course, death and darkness had not been enough.

Of course, Thanatos had not been enough.

He slipped from the Underworld to collect the soul the death bells tolled for and as he did, he felt something slip deep into his chest. Some foreign, alien thing; so unfamiliar as to be written away as imagination. Like a seed splitting the soil and roosting beneath.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Thanatos did not know what was worse - trying to cast Zagreus from his mind, or being constantly reminded of the man every time the death bells tolled for him. For every toll, whether Thanatos went to him or not, was another failed escape attempt and the beginning of yet another. He knew Zagrues must think his plight for the surface cursed - it was he after all who kept experiencing the relentless grip of the river Styx - but it was Thanatos who felt truly cursed. For every escape attempt was another reminder that Zagrues desperately wished to be free of them: his home, his family, Thanatos.

But the bells tolled and tolled, singing a symphony that drew Thanatos a little nearer and a little nearer each time. Like the moon, he found himself in Zagreus’ orbit - at first not at all, then from a distance, and finally passing him by, feeling the warmth of Zagreus’ being shining upon him, lighting him up. Even now, lighting him up.

He watched from the edge of the clearing as Zagreus dodged the molten depths of Asphodel, his weapon of choice - this time Varatha no doubt to spite his father - cleaving through the various shades hellbent on keeping him here per Hades’ bidding. The prince was tired. Not yet strong enough to survive his fight with Megara and continue on at full strength. But it would come, Thanatos suddenly realized with the same casual understanding of fact as one might recognize that the lava around them was hot .

But he would not survive this run much longer. And unassisted, he might not even survive this chamber. With a weight growing in his chest, Thanatos realized he might witness Zagreus’ fall for himself this time. Not second hand through rumor or one of his brother’s reports or the tolling of the bells, but first hand with his own eyes.

Thanatos couldn’t have said what made him step forward to help - not because he didn’t know, but because he couldn’t admit it. He blocked all thought out, pursuing just one goal: I can’t watch Zag die...

All he knew was that when the death bells tolled his reveal from the shadows of death into the realm of awareness in which all could now see him, the sound caught Zagreus’ attention and time stopped for just a moment - giving Thanatos the luxury and agony of seeing first the surprise on the prince’s face, then the relief that followed. Relief, as though Zagreus had been waiting at some fathomless horizon for centuries, simply hoping for Thanatos to rise above its edge and greet him.

“Zag,” he growled - voice rough around a strange feeling in his throat. He couldn’t find it in himself to dig for any other words. He barely pried the man’s name out as it was. It was easy to hide that fact between a cleaving swing of his scythe, cutting the battlefield down into a group of straggling shades that were much more manageable between the two of them.

“Than,” Zagreus wheezed, the name cut short beneath another shade’s attack.

Zagreus sounded bad. Even with Thanatos’ help, this particular escape might not last much longer, Thanatos mused. He could hear the man’s breath. A thready, wheezing thing that slowly but surely worsened. Loud, almost in Thanatos’ ears, in his very chest and he could not take it. Not here. Not from Zagreus, who would have been safe and whole if he had simply stayed home. He ground his teeth, cleaving shades with a growing eracticism unbefitting of the quick, efficient stroke of Death. Felt every swing release a little of that anger and confusion into the depths of Asphodel and the flesh of its shades.

His gaze tore to Zagreus as the last shade fell, the fire-tongued soles of his feet simmering against the punishing stone floor of Asphodel as he leaned against his spear like a crutch and caught his breath. Those feet duller than they should have been. In that moment, Thanatos felt an urge to follow Zagreus to the end. If he saw the surface, would it slake his thirst of the unknown enough to satisfy him? To draw him back? It was a weak thought, one that made Thanatos bristle madly at himself. It was becoming increasingly obvious it had been a mistake to draw this near to Zagreus. Death was obviously not as strong - or as unbiased - as he thought he was.

Zagreus had just managed to turn to Thanatos with a smile and a thank you when that expression fell - like sunlight disappearing beneath a cloud - for Thanatos was gone, a bell moaning in his absence, and in his place: a centaur heart.

“Oh Than…” Zagreus murmured softly, eyes locked upon the heart.

Alone, Zagreus hobbled his way to the heart, stopping short of grabbing it when he saw something strange on the ground beneath its floating weight. Here - in the fiery grip of Asphodel - a single petal simmered on the ground, curling fraily against the heated stone. The prince grabbed it with shaking fingers, thumb brushing over petal’s delicate length. Red as blood, thin and reaching. Soft as velvet and utterly lost here in this world of fire and death.

How in the world had anything grown here, Zagreus wondered, as he slipped it into his tunic above his heart, red like his eye and his feet and so much of his namesake. Flush against his skin, as though it had belonged there all along.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Persephone walked amidst her garden as she often did, greeting the great flush of her gift upon the soil with gentle hands and a smiling heart. At her touch the foliage seemed to bloom all the brighter. As she neared, it appeared to lean toward her like a flower reaching for the sun, following it’s daily axis.

Everything was much the same. The trees, the bushes, the crops, the flowers. Everything, she realized, but one. A new bloom, there much without her design or intention. Slender stalks rising up from the ivy and shade of a nearby willow, unfurling into magnificent red tongues and curling petals.

“My, my, what have we here?” She mused, tender and kind as she greeted this new bloom, just as she would have an old and familiar friend.

A spider lily, she realized with raised brows. Here, in her garden. Slim fingers stroked the nearby bloom - only a few and yet startling all the same. She had not planted these. Had it been her heart that drew these lovely blooms? Her unrequited regrets beneath the simmering hurt of her past? The red spider lily - the final goodbye. A blossom said to guide the dead. No, this wasn’t hers. It had been too long, the scar of that time too old, for it to have suddenly appeared by her doing.

Strange, to say hello to the final goodbye here amongst her carefully tended garden. She watched it shiver in the spring breeze, frail somehow in its little wind-drawn dance. With a frown, she felt something heavy stir within her heart. A longing and a worry.

Somewhere, she realized, someone was mourning. She watched a petal drift upon the wind and disappear. She wondered who the goodbye was for or if, like many things, it was even a goodbye at all…

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

The first full blossom that appeared grew in the hair of a young man’s corpse. It had not been there when he arrived. It had not been placed by the loving hands of family or kin. It had not been until he reached for their soul that it grew, crimson petals splaying out like a corona - thick and full. There, among death and the dying, Life grew as Life often did: against all odds, rebellious and unapologetic.

He wondered if this human had been watched or favored by some god or goddess. It was easy enough, back then, to think nothing of it.

Easy to miss that it had not grown until he had thought - quite by accident - how similar the man’s hair had been to the prince’s.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Death’s chamber - moreso a place of enforced rest rather than necessary rest - was a cool, dark place carved out of the fabric of reality. A place made for him by the Night herself, speckled with twinkling starlight and furnished with all the trappings of comfort any entity might desire. It was not, however, a place of light or Life. There was no facsimile of sun, no warmth. It was a reflection of his very identity, and therefore the opposite of Life; and yet when he opened his eyes after a short, restive doze, it was to petals on his pillow. Not just petals individually, but a blossom. Stalkless, and yet full and lush. Large enough to fill his palm with curling petals, reaching like red tongues from its core. Death blinked and rose upright, staring down at the bloom.

The same bloom that had wreathed that corpse.

What might have been the favor of a god upon that human felt decidedly less possible now. Had it been a trick from Hypnos? From some other shade or god or goddess? But from the bloom, he could sense himself . As though it were a part of him as much as his room was a reflection of himself.

Which just… couldn’t be.

Death could not make Life .

He brushed the flower away with a faint, confused frown, only to turn to rise from his chaise and find more blooms. One atop a nearby book. Another on the floor, in a blanket, on the rug, beside a goblet. Flowers. Life. All grown here in the dark grip of Death.

This, he finally accepted, was a problem.

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It was definitely a problem.

Death did not know who’s idea of a sick joke this was, but he found the flowers blooming positively everywhere now - slight at first, but growing. It had begun as something almost ignorable. A blossom tucked in the crag of a stony wall. Red petals peeking out from the centerpiece of a table. Once, appearing what would have been a shade’s hair, were they alive.

But now they trailed him in obvious patches, suddenly crowning the heads of nearby shades and growing atop the slender rails of passing balconies. No one suspected him. It was a miracle, but it was hard to assume Death had any hand in Life. Yet still, the sudden growth of spider lilies among the courts of the dead was on everyone’s lips. Where were they coming from? Why had they appeared?

Was Persephone somehow responsible? How could she not be? Yet… she was not here.

It made the Lord of the Underworld more brittle and eruptious than before, a feat no one truly thought possible. It fostered an even greater divide between father and son as well, for the more the court wondered about how the flowers might be tied to Persephone, the more Zagreus asked after her. And the more he asked, the more the prince realized he needed to leave if he was ever to get answers.

The more he tried - and died - in the pursuit of being anywhere but among the dead, the more the flowers grew.

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Even knowing that every attempt took Zagreus further from him, Thanatos found he could not stop thinking of it - the attempts, Zagreus’ failures, the repeated destruction of his- His prince. That was a safe term, yes. His prince.

He laid awake in his rooms, crimson flowers rising like the depths of the river taking Zagreus all too often, and found he could not spare his mind of thinking of him. Zagreus bleeding, pale flesh bruised like soft fruit, yet so determined to be gone.

Just because he was no longer part of the equation of his prince’s happiness, could he truly continue to just watch this happen? Or perhaps true devotion, true service, was assisting even when it reduced his existence in the man’s life to irrelevance.

He’d help, he decided, because Zagreus was his prince, and Death was nothing if not faithful and reliable. No sooner had he decided it, a blossom appeared over his heart. Large and heavy, every petal weighted like stone, driving the breath from his lungs.

Yet he didn’t have the heart to move it.

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The prince of the Underworld was special in many ways, no one could argue that except, perhaps, his father. And one such way was that when the bell of death tolled for Zagreus, it was rarely with the intention of taking him away. Thanatos arrived, his motives hidden beneath a well placed challenge of who can kill more shades here in the depths of Asphodel?

A game, just a game. No one could get hurt, if it was just a game. And goodbye would not hurt so much, if it was on Thanatos’ terms… Or so he hoped.

Death’s blade swung, cleaving shades in two. Souls upon souls, ushered back into the depths by his hands, just to spare one man the journey home. It was illogical. It went against his lord’s wishes. And yet, Thanatos knew there was no other option, not for him.

He could not be an instrument in caging Zagreus if it meant having him near would only make him unhappy. He cleaved men from their families, wives from their children, mortals from dreams left unspent and unfulfilled. Here, he had a choice.

Now, he wanted to see someone grow.

“That was something, Than,” Zagreus said as the last shade fell, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of a one bloody hand - making the mess on his face worse. Yet it did nothing to diminish the sheer Life of his smile as he turned to him. That smile - so full and unapologetic - was like the sun turning its face upon Thanatos, reaching his skin in a way it never had topside. Warm, making his belly flutter. Foolish and childish, he scolded himself. Made worse when that smile suddenly faded before Thanatos could answer and Zagreus said with a soft, perplexed frown, “What’s that?”

He followed the gaze of his prince to the ground at his feet - or rather below his feet - and there mere inches beneath the floating drape of his toes, a bed of flowers began to bloom. Spears of grass rising and charring in tandem to the merciless heat of Asphodel, and yet the flowers heartily remained untouched among the thicket of rising and dying green. Bloody red flowers, reaching up - not to Thanatos , but to Zagreus - as though he were the sun.

Lost in his grasping for explanations he simply didn’t have, all Thanatos could do was quickly retreat a few floating steps when Zagreus suddenly started forward and, using his blade as to help himself down with a grown, knelt to observe them better. He had one thick, tanned finger delicately beneath one of the lilies reaching tongues as his brows raised and he mused, “I’ve seen these around my father’s court but I didn’t ever imagine I’d see them out here . What could they possibly be?”

But when he looked up, Thanatos was gone. Gone, leaving nothing but a sudden crown of blooms in Zagreus’ hair to remember him by. Gone, because that touch - so delicate and gentle beneath the petals’ reach - had felt as though Zagreus had touched him.

And it hurt down to Thanatos’ very bones, stealing the very breath from his lungs, to know it was a touch he’d never feel for himself. Not when Zagreus wanted nothing more than to leave.

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It got worse. Much worse. He stopped visiting his brother after Hypnos once woke - bewildered - in practically a carpet of red blooms, right in plain sight of their lord. He made his reports as brief and efficient as possible after he once saw Zagreus dash by during one of them and the feeling that had arisen in his breast at the sight of him caused Cerberus - right at Hades’ side - to suddenly tilt each massive head as all three were suddenly crowned in thick, growing lilies. Hades had erupted, his gaze cast upon the shades, looking for a culprit. It was luck alone, or perhaps the heat of the god’s rage, that prevented those blooms from growing on him as well. But Achilles had seen.

With eyes so old, and so lonely, he had seen.

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“If I may be so bold, Master Death, I am here if ever you need a sympathetic ear,” Achilles once said, somehow managing to sneak up on him at his balcony. By the skin of his teeth, Thanatos managed not to startle visibly. But he could not hide the spider lily that was in his hands, the very cause that had left him so lost in thought as he had braced himself over the balcony that hung above the river - waiting, though he refused to admit it, for Zagreus’ return.

“There is nothing to be sympathetic for,” Thanatos forced himself to say simply, turning back to the river.

“There is always something to be sympathetic for,” Achilles had said in that soft way he said most things - so soft in death for a man so coated in blood in life - and came beside Thanatos to deposit something on the rail before he left with a gentle, “The offer stands, when you’re ready.”

Thanatos waited until the warrior’s quiet footsteps receded before he looked. There, upon the glittering marble of the balcony, was a tiny flower. Purple and plain, easy to hide.

A forget-me-not.

“Does it ever get easier?” Thanatos finally asked one day.

“No,” Achilles said, the gentle hush of his words like the breath of the breeze through meadow reeds, “But it does get easier to hide.”

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“Than, wait!”

The pleading urgency in those words were the only thing that stayed Thanatos’ retreat. More and more, Thanatos realized he could deny the prince nothing. His only hope was to remove himself before Zagreus could ask anything of him. Today, he failed.

He turned only so much as to peek at Zagreus from over one cloaked shoulder, waiting. It was much as he could offer without that telling pang marching through his heart and wreathing them all in flowers. But he was learning, at least, thanks to Achilles.

“Yes, Zag?”

“I… I know there’s a lot unsaid between us. A lot to make up for. I… I know,” Zagreus said, elegant, and yet stammering. Endearing in that earnest way of his, so much so that Thanatos could not prevent the single bloom of red that began to grow in a nearby crack in Elysium’s walls, hidden in plain sight by the moss and tiny fragile flowers already native to the place.

Zagreus’ words slipped to silence, broken only by the sound of glass settling gently atop a nearby grassy, broken pillar. Thanatos turned slowly to regard it. A bulbous bottle, bottom heavy and filled with glittering amber liquid: Nectar. His gaze turned from the bottle to Zagreus, a frown so easily slipping onto his face to hide behind as he said, “Really, Zagreus? Nectar? As though that suddenly fixes all that lies between us? This is, what… a parting gift? The goodbye you never bothered to give me?”

His scorn made Zagreus wilt - the soft sunshine of his demeanor fading as though behind thick clouds. In the craggy wall, the spider lily wilted somewhat, shivering delicately.

“No, of course not. I simply found this and thought of you. Think nothing of it,” Zagreus said, his tone carefully masked and distant now. Further from him, just as Thanatos had planned, and yet this climb to their eventual final goodbye felt hollow, forced. Forced, because Thanatos had forced it.

“I never do,” he said, the death bells tolling his retreat as the flowers he left behind - spotting the walls of that chamber Zagreus lingered in - mournfully wilted around him.

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“You are hurting, my son.”

Nyx’s voice was always a balm to him. Gentle and cool, like twinkling starlight. Not too harsh, not too loud, as living things were. Cold and distant, like himself, because he had been carved from her.

“I am fine,” he longed to say - but when had he ever been able to lie to her. But he couldn’t admit it, either. He merely looked away, hiding his grief behind sideways looks and long lashes. She reached for him. Her hands chill and welcome against the stony arch of his jaw and cheeks. Nyx’s thumb ran a smooth line over his cheeks, her face still and poignant, but her eyes telling.

“Just because you are Death, does not mean you cannot host Life within your heart, dear one. None of us are spared from feeling. It is perhaps the strongest force on this world - the bit of Life that nothing can wring out.”

“I do not wish to feel it, when it changes nothing,” Thanatos croaked, furious as his lashes grew misty without his consent. He had accepted what was to come, damn it, so why did the grief still feel so smothering?

“Grief changes nothing,” Nyx nodded solemnly, “But… It lets us know that if something can be changed, it is worth trying to change it.”

Thanatos leaned his jaw into the cup of her hands with a conflicted little frown.

“And if that change is not good for everyone?”

Realization bloomed in Nyx’s face like the flowers he could not prevent from growing to crown her starry head.

“Ah,” she said softly. “I see… Sometimes love is letting go…”

He wilted in her hands. A final confirmation, until her fingers went to pinch his chin lovingly and draw his gaze up to hers. Her eyes long and fathomless like the night sky, twinkling and watching.

“But usually... love is asking first, before those pains that go unsaid smother you both.”

Her pale hands rose to pick a red-tongued blossom from the crown that had grown in her hair and placed it delicately in the bowl she made of his hands; as though it were a baby bird. It glittered with fresh dew, with the tears he couldn’t quite stop from falling. Not here, in the safety of his mother’s arms. His tears were always safe in the cloak of night.

“Spider Lilies… It is said they grow at the site of final goodbyes,” Nyx intoned gently, “Others say they help Death guide spirits that have just passed into new lives.”

“The death of the past,” Thanatos said, each word carefully clinical and cold, as though distance could blunt their meaning.

She curled her own hands beneath the bowl of his and said, “They are also a symbol of rebirth, my child. Or perhaps more importantly, they are an opportunity, as everything is.”

Thanatos frowned lightly, his gaze rising to meet hers once more.

“I don’t understand.”

Nyx smiled a soft, tiny smile - as bright as any moonlight - and leaned forward to kiss his forehead tenderly, lips brushing against his skin as she spoke onto him, “Life, and all its decisions, are merely a matter of perspective, my son. It is not too late to change yours.”

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Before, it felt naive to hope. Hope was a foolish, mortal feeling; Thanatos knew better. Hope always faded in Death, so how could Death ever possibly foster it? And yet, his mother had never once lied to him. Beneath the light of her moon and her stars, all was made plain.

So when he tolled the bells to go to him, Thanatos allowed himself to look at Zagreus the way he had not allowed himself to before. With hope.

Zagreus had grown. As they faced off in the halls of Elysium in a quest to one up the other in battle, Thanatos found himself willingly distracted by the developed grace in Zagreus’ fighting. His posture had changed. He no longer zipped blindly across the field in a rage, trying to win by brute force. He was calm, calculated. He had changed.

Zagreus marked every trap in his mind. Every swing of his blade - new, now, one he had unlocked and partnered with - brought the shades of the underworld to heel. He marched them where he wanted them, whether that was to a swift death beneath his swing or onto a trap. He fought with a tactician’s coolness. He no longer wasted his energy. He no longer showed up to these battles covered in foreboding wounds.

He was growing. Getting closer to his goal. Which meant Thanatos, of course, was running out of time. And no one understood the gravity of the hourglass’ shifting sands quite like Death. Time, as always, was of the essence.

“Zagreus,” Thanatos said, hovering near the heart that he normally tended to simply leave behind as a parting gesture ever since Zagreus’ attempt to treat him to a gift. It was obvious the prince had not been expecting him to stay, reaching as he had been immediately for whatever god’s boon had been promised in this chamber. But the moment the prince heard his voice, the man had all but sprinted to him, and the eager warmth that had inspired in his chest caused a red blossom to bloom at Zagreus’ feet when finally he stopped before him.

“Than? I wasn’t expecting you to stay,” Zagreus said, all eagerness. Always eagerness to move on - to the world above, to a world beyond their fight.

“I wasn’t either,” Thanatos agreed, overwhelmed by the discomfort that immediately began to rise in him. He had known it would come. It had fueled many of this retreats. But nothing would ever change, if he continued to allow it to smother him. He just had hoped knowing that would make it easier , somehow. Yet he felt he could barely breathe, let alone cherrypick the words he wanted. Silence hung between them. Flowers pebbled the ground that separated them. But patiently, Zagreus simply waited. As though time were no burden to him. As though the hourglass of fate was not an enemy, but a friend.

“I know you intend to go to the world above,” Thanatos said, searching desperately for the words and finding every single one lacking. “I… I know you intend to stay there. You need answers, I know that… But before you do, I just wanted to say… She abandoned you, Zagreus. But we never have. We are your family, if you ask me. I won’t stop you from going, but… I just felt it needed to be said.”

“Than,” Zagreus started slowly, and Thanatos waited for the blow: you are not my family. You are not important. You are my past. This is not my home.

He had told himself to hear Zagreus out. He had told himself that this closure - however painful - would make everything easier. Clearer. Yet faced with this final stroke of fate, he found he couldn’t bear to hear it. Before Zagreus could collect his thoughts, Thanatos placed a crystal butterfly upon a broken stone pillar just as Zagreus had once done and said in a quick murmur, “Let it never be said that I don’t repay my debts,” before he left, like a coward.

Death, cowed by the thought of love spurned. Or perhaps, cowed by the thought of living. His offered keepsake framed in a lush bloom of red spider lilies, kept company by Zagreus’ soft, regretful sigh in Thanatos’ absence.

“Oh, Than…”

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Zagreus made it topside. Thanatos could feel it in his bones, a soul that had forever been below the earth suddenly above - in his domain, among the fields of souls he was meant to reap. He felt him there, fragile after his fight with his father and yet soaring like an inferno with his victory.

Thanatos pulled down the bottle of Nectar he had kept for this moment. It had felt right to save it for this occasion, the gift a goodbye and yet also a salute to his prince’s victory. A victory he had helped the man achieve. He poured an ample glass, the liquid shimmering like a child of sunlight and starlight both, but as he rose the glass to toast Zagreus’ achievement, a soft and confused frown began to mar his lips.

Above, with every step and every second spent there, Thanatos felt that fire waning. The glass of nectar trembled lightly in his hand as his gaze became distant, his awareness fully above. Zagreus, stumbling through the world of Light and Life. Zagreus, reaching another soaring source of power - Persephone. Zagreus, waning. Zagreus, yearning, straining. Zagreus, breath stuttering.

Zagreus, dying.

The glass crashed to the ground without a hand to hold it, shattering, Nectar pooling.

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Dead, as the boy had been dead. Thanatos did not wish to go to him. Did not wish to see him dead, here, among the place his prince had so dearly dreamed about. Did not wish to see him still and pale as only mortals deserved to be. Zagreus was a being of light and power and determination. He could not bear to see him beaten down to nothingness, just a husk of flesh and nothing more. Not here. Not in his mother’s garden, so close to the answers he had sought for so long…

But to love was to suffer.

He went to him. Kneeled beside the prince, allowing his own body to touch the earth, unheeding of how it killed the very grass he touched. His fingers went to cup Zagreus’ face. To prepare him for the journey home again, and as he did, the man’s body became haloed in deep, crimson flowers. Sprouting, uncontrolled and thick. Thanatos could not stop them, could not be bothered to stop them. It was effort enough to see him like this, let alone hide his own weakness.

He had forgotten there were still eyes there to witness it.

“Thanatos,” Persephone said, appearing from around the corner of the house with a death shawl for her son and coins for his eyes. She froze, her eyes not on him or her son, but on the flowers that surrounded them.

“Oh Thanatos ,” he whispered thickly, brows twisted. Looking upon them mournfully - she, the woman who had abandoned her son and then somehow enticed him away from his family below.

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch your garden,” Thanatos said stonily, thinking she feared the spreading of the dead grass from his knees.

“Thanatos, wait--”

But they were gone, he and Zagreus both, leaving nothing but a patch of dead grass and the outline of her son in bloody, crimson flowers. The blossoms trembling in tandem with the spatterings of red that had begun to grow uncontrollably throughout her garden.

“It was you,” she whispered to no one. “They’re yours.”

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Once, of course, was not enough. There are still questions that need answering, and Zagreus has nothing but time to throw himself at the mercy of the gauntlet between the Underworld and the mortal realm above again and again and again. Every victory means only one thing: another tragic death so close to his goal above. And yet, Thanatos cannot help but assist him. Even if it means cradling that larger-than-life body suddenly made so small by death and escorting him back down below. Even if it means being the very vessel that takes his prince from his goal, he will help him get there once more, once more, once more.

The hourglass has been refilled, if only for a while more. If anyone can figure out a way to stay among the Living, it will be Zagreus. Zagreus, who did the unthinkable and escaped the underworld. Zagreus, who found the mother that had abandoned him. He’ll do it, Thanatos knows it just as keenly as he knows the last beat of a mortal’s fragile heart.

But he’ll gladly cherish every extra grain of sand in the hourglass he’s been given.

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“I’ve missed this,” Zagreus says after one of their dual bloodbaths in the halls of Elysium. This level of the Underworld is his favorite one to go to Zagreus in. It means their momentary glimmer of peace after the fight is flush with soft grass and pleasing greens and all the Life that Zagreus deserves. And perhaps, when Zagreus is gone, Thanatos can enjoy a sip of the river to forget. He never will, he knows. It’s selfish, foolhardy and probably impossible for someone like him. But sometimes, he likes to entertain the idea that he could forget, and be free of the blossoms that constantly remind him of what he cannot have.

Thanatos turns to him, taking his time to take in the lines that make up the nostalgic expression of Zagreus’ face as he catches his breath there, sitting among the white flowers of Elysium’s fields. White and nearly like his own.

“Missed what? We do this all the time, how could you have missed this?” Thanatos asked.

“Not the fight. This . Us,” Zagreus said. “This just reminds me of how we were before I began my escapes.”

“Simpler times,” Thanatos frowned, unable to swallow the bitterness that suddenly rose in his throat. “But you chose to complicate them, Zagreus.”

He understood why, now; but that didn’t mean he didn’t resent it in his weakest moments. He waited for Zagreus to defend himself. For that bitterness to rise in Thanatos to ruin the moment, as it often did. He’d flee, and he’d waste his precious remaining grains of sand - he could see it all already, unfolding, until Zagreus brought a halt to his spiraling thoughts as only he could.

“I don’t know why this has turned into picking who I love, Than. Wanting to find my mother doesn’t mean I love anyone else any less. Everyone acts as if I’m choosing my mother over everything and everyone else. Even you.”

“Are you not?” Thanatos asked, dreading the answer.

Yet Zagreus simply looked at him, red flowers blooming in his hair, and said, “If you’re asking me who I’d choose between you or my mother, Than, my answer is this: I never intended to settle for one at all.”

Thanatos blew out a frustrated breath even as his heart soared in a way he hadn’t thought Death’s heart could, trembling like a rabbit against his ribs.

“That’s naive to say, don’t you think, Zag?”

“Says who?”

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It’s all a matter of perspective, my child.

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One day, Zagreus went topside. Thanatos prepared to go to him, to collect him, but the moment never came. Death felt the prince’s heart begin to flatter as mortal hearts did, and yet the final throbbing beat never came. In fact, it stabilized. It stabilized and grew nearer. Nearer and nearer still, adrift on the river with his brother. Not just his brother, but another too. Life was flowing down the river to the Underworld.

The Queen was returning.

Thanatos leaned bonelessly back into his lounge, feeling shaky with stunned, overwhelming relief as spider lilies rose around him like a cushion because Zagreus was coming home with Persephone.

Zagreus was coming home of his own free will.

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Life in the Underworld improves. As though Persephone were a sun and the Underworld a withered garden without her, things steadily improved with her return. Cerberus pressed eagerly into the touch of her hand. The halls seemed brighter, warmer. Even Achilles seemed a little less sad, and Hades - oh Hades - it was as though he were steadily becoming a different man altogether. A softer man, gentled by her touch. His thorns shorn short, his rough and callous words turned to roses lush and hearty; though suddenly kind was a stretch to say, he was certainly safer to speak to now.

The court was alight with how Persephone’s presence was changing everything for the better. But all Thanatos could think was that none of this would have been possible if not for Zagreus, who had lassoed the sun herself and brought her back to them against all odds.

If Persephone was the sun, Zagreus was the lifeblood of this place.

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The hourglass had been halted. There was no beginning, no end, and once again Death was no longer shackled by the wasteful ticking of time. But the flowers did not lessen, did not disappear. They trailed after him, and though he had gotten better at hiding it, he knew that Persephone knew. Flowers were her children, after all; how could she not know?

“You should talk to him, Thanatos. If nothing else, Zagreus has taught me this: what you assume will happen is never definite,” she said to him one day, cradling a wayward spider lily that had suspiciously grown in her garden - startlingly white. He wondered when that had started or why.

“Perhaps I will. Thank you, my lady,” Thanatos said gently.

She smiled at him, her thumbs so gentle with the bloom’s petals, making the little flower shiver happily, and said, “I hope you do.”

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Thanatos had paced the length of his balcony many times now, each with a stumbling aborted attempt to head in the direction of Zagreus’ chambers. He tried to ignore the knowing weight of Achilles’ watchful gaze by the mirrors. Tried to ignore the thunderous fear of his heart or the way the lilies just kept blooming around him in fitful bursts.

Go to him , his heart said.

But what if you ruin everything , his mind howled, Now, when things are finally peaceful.

But is peace the same as happiness? His heart asked. Is that all you wanted? Could it be enough?

It certainly hurt less than being wrong, his mind said.

If that were true, then why are the flowers still blooming?

Little Deaths, the Pining Flowers. Could he truly be content, if they still found the soil of his heart so rich to bloom in?

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“Take it from a fool who waited,” Achilles said as a tiny purple blossom grew in the tuck of his hair behind his ear, “Nothing risked, nothing earned.”

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This time, when Thanatos went to Zagreus in the fields of Elysium, he cleaved the souls of the dead down in one impatient stroke - knowing that if he did not act fast, he would not act at all.

Zagreus let out a startled huff of a laugh, his hand son his hips as he turned to Thanatos with a confused, if amused, “Well that was hardly sporting, Than! Have you been going easy on me all this time?”

But that expression fell, muted and worried, when Zagreus finally caught sight of Thanatos’ face.

“Than?” He asked.

“Please, don’t--” Thanatos said, holding up a hand to halt the prince’s words, “Just… listen. I… I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for some time, but the words elude me, even now.”

Zagreus brought his blade down into the grass and let it rest then, his full attention him upon Thanatos in a way so direct, so overwhelming, Thanatos felt that urge to run rise in him again.

It was the memory Achilles’ gaze - heavy and knowing - that held him fast. Sympathetic, envious and frustrated. Frustrated, because Zagreus was within reach, and Thanatos risked nothing.

He did not want to have eyes like Achilles had. He wanted to Live.

“I hate you, when you first left,” Thanatos blundered forward. “I thought you were done with me. That I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t blame you either. What could I offer you, that you couldn’t have up there? What’s Death to Life?”

“Than--”

“Please, Zag… Let me finish or I never will,” Thanatos whispered. “I hated you. Or I thought I did… but these… All of these?”

He held up a hand, a red lily immediately blooming at his call to hold between them.

“These are yours, Zagreus. All of them, every single one. Because I missed you. Because I could not stop thinking of you, worrying for you, wanting you.”

Zagreus stilled, and something akin to paleness stole over his tanned flesh. Thanatos knew, then, he’d never have him. How could Life love Death? But he continued onward, if for nothing but closure. If for nothing but to say he risked it all, he tried.

“It’s childish, foolish, reckless even - but I… I’m utterly helpless, Zagreus. You’ve made me, made Death , helpless in want for you. In loving you, I…” his breath left him in a soft, rattling wheeze as finally he admitted - with the certainty that the sword cleaves flesh - “I love you, and… I’m glad you came home.”

He waited for the blow. Waited for the moment that would wring that last breath of hope from his lungs, and he wondered if this is what mortals felt like, waiting for him. For Death.

But he waited, and waited, and it never came. Zagreus merely stood dumbfounded, something wet growing on his sooty bottom lashes, before finally he stepped forward and did what Thanatos had always been too afraid to do.

He kissed him.

Perspective, his mother had said. He had thought she meant decisions, but it was so much more than that. This moment was a perspective he thought he’d never have - could never fathom . Life, warm and bright against his lips. Flowing through him in a circle, like a cycle that never ended, life and death and life and death. He closed his eyes and Zagreus reached up to bring him down, closer to the ground - to him - and wound gentle fingers into silver hair.

Around them, flowers bloomed in the hall of Elysium - blood and bone, red and white, cascading in a sheet to cover the chamber around them. Pushing out and out and out until nothing was left but the Spider Lilies singing brilliantly in the breeze around them. Zagreus drew Thanatos down like an anchor, floating feet brushing finally against petal softness, but nothing wilted from his touch. It was as though those flowers had always been waiting for both of them, every petal glimmering and shining now that the cycle of Life and Death had finally been made whole.

“I love you,” Zagreus said between desperate presses of chaste lips, speaking against Thanatos’ surprised mouth as though the words might possess them both, “And I’m so grateful you waited for me.”

Without Life, Death does not exist. Without Death, Life is not Life at all. For one is needed for the other to exist. Otherwise, there is Nothing.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Zagreus had hidden all of his blooms in his chamber, of all things, knowing that no one went there. Not even Dusa, who was not allowed to clean Hades’ “ungrateful mongrel of a son”’s room. So there, they had remained safely hidden. Bone white blooms, ivory tongues drooping in such familiar ways to the crimson petals that followed Thanatos everywhere.

“Why did you never say?” Thanatos asked one day, as they lay side by side in a carpet of their flowers, fingers entwined together, nearly nose to nose.

“I did not want to frighten you away,” Zagreus laughed.

“And how did you prevent them from growing on me? I can’t stop the blasted things from appearing everywhere?” Thanatos asked.

Zagreus laughed again and repeated, “Because I did not want to frighten you away.”

Thanatos turned to him, arm braced so he could hover over Zagreus face with a gentle smile.

“And now that I am still here?” He asked warmly.

Zagreus reached up to brush a lock of silvery hair behind Thanatos’ ear, held back with a white lily to keep it in place, and said, “I’m glad that I was wrong.”

Thanatos smiled as red lilies bloomed to frame his prince’s head in a crown. Thick and regal, as he deserved. His mark upon the man. His prince, his love. It stirred a primal satisfaction deep in his belly as he leaned down to kiss Zagreus and say, “I’m glad we both were wrong.”

So they were reborn, there in a bed of white and red spider lilies - flowers that had guided them to new Life.

[the-firebird69]

They're very big reasons why we don't want the empire to take the upper Midwest and reinstall their own bunkers and her son and daughter know what it is and we don't want to have them do that and we don't want them to have ships right next to us and psychologically they think it's more fun saying they're threateness from afar. We are going to make sure that they're not going to Install them up there. Right now the bar consider there I'm being made default defunct and they're sitting there and they are not being replaced if we start replacing them it starts to fight and it would be with us so right now they're fighting everybody else no the morlock are evacuating and now it's an issue and the clones don't see the harm in allowing them to move in and to make clones which is a problem but we see the benefit there's a couple other reasons I already said I don't want them there and he stated that and she did too there's a big reason and we cannot let it happen we're going to move in there and push them out right now there are three Mac units approaching the upper Midwest and they want to infiltrate I mean if they want to go across the border of Pennsylvania and into the north of at the Minnesota and into Ohio and so forth from there and we don't want them there the clones don't and are preparing an offensive to stop them. And we are going to oppose them there too and the remaining more lock I'm going to stop them there and they say they'll send fleets and so forth and what we say is we don't want you there and we need to stop you because you have no right to be there and it's going on now and they will be repelled. There is a huge battle in Pennsylvania and it was is with starcraft and Zerg are the mainstay for the upper Midwest believe it or not there's tons of them up there and it's Hera who influenced that to happen and zig zag who made it so and our son he said they have armor let's get them up there and it's good and the kraken has an armor too but not like the Zerg. And xenomorph as well but not like dessert and their movie in and there's going to be a starcraft war and it's going to be huge. And his idea is going to go forwards for real boats to be starcraft boats and in parades and all sorts of parties and yeah these people are nuts. And it's going to happen shortly. Those ships are coming out there's a lot of them in the upper Midwest and bja went up there for it and he's noticing something he's yelling at him and stuff and screaming and he can't help it and he sees it he's falling and he's trying to add him to do stuff that's effective and he doesn't seem to get it so we're set up these factories and we're making mini and people are buying them and they're buying them and they're buying Megan merkels and a few other brands and they're comparing them. And it's going along very quickly and they're seeing it happen that everybody's buying these and really we see that they understand we're doing it on purpose. The same with the multi-bike it's either a slightly different and they were pumping out tons of them and now we have engines as an option and people are buying the engine and we're sending them overseas in the switch them out and some switch it back and it's going on like that we have a lot of things to do but this is very important it's important that our father and mother are insisting and we know why we want Frank Castle hardcastle Duke nukem Blockbuster and the American tribes and others like that in right now

Thor Freya

So he's doing his chief little talking bear routine he says I understand where the warpaint comes from now if you're in a fight with a bear it leaves these four marks across your face and he was talking to our native American Indian and Indian relatives and Friends who are our people and it actually chuckling because she's using the paw it's really she's using it like a cat's paw and it's really a bear even though they do that it still looks funny and we're going to get ready now but really we have to stop them and it's going to be a battle and it's going to start other battles and it is where it starts and Lily was amazed. The clothes will probably help with them or at least leave them alone to get the ships they're starting to see it too there's some that are going to fight for it and we're going to be up there it's going to be weird as hell but it's going to work

Thor Freya

We have a new way of doing things now it's really not time to start changing things up here it's it's not time to lie to each other you're kind of poor and everybody hates you and you hate each other it's time to start telling people the truth and Lily has started it off and this starcraft thing is going to help you out and getting both together and doing shows and having fun in Miami no California yes is going to help and it doesn't take long to outfit of small boat and he's saying that bja should make them can make them out of wood and you put a cladding on and it looks like the real thing so we are waiting for that but this is going to be intense

Olympus

[hermies]

 who :    @zagreusrhea​ ,   hermes   rhea .

 what :   cousins   getting   their   clocks   cleaned  .

 where :   electra   hours   nightclub .

 when :   early   january ,   new   years   festival .

 why :    familial   bonding ,   substance   abuse .

 ❛ ❛    i   heard    that    she’s    like ,   a    total    whore .    ❜ ❜     this .    this  is   why   hermes   hates   olympe .    the   harrowing   proximity   to   his   father   and   subsequent   crushing   weight   of   pressure   don’t   even   compare   to   the   breed   of   assholes   that   hermes   is   forced   to   breathe   the   same   air   as   in   olympe   clubs .    where   do   these   people   even   come   from  ?    it’s   like   the   bouncers   check   asshole   cards   at   the   door .    zagreus   and   hermes   are   by   the   bar ,   as   incognito   as   they   can   be ,   trying   to   drink   and   be   hot   in   peace .   all   hermes   wants   to   do   is   snort   some   shit ,   hang   out   with   his   cousin ,   and   maybe   get   laid .   apparently   that’s   too   much   to   fucking   ask   for .    the   asshole   speaks   again ,    louder   this   time .     ❛ ❛   and   the   new   bacchanal   shit   ?   tacky .   if   you’re   going   to   be   a   nepotism   case ,   at   least   have   talent .    ❜ ❜     the   assholes   multiply .   another   one   replies  :    ❛ ❛    yeah   but   you   know   she’s   a   nasty   fuck ,   though .    ❜ ❜    a   third   asshole   chimes   in  :    ❛ ❛    not   worth   it   bro ,   you’d   have   to  triple   wrap   your   dick .   ❜ ❜  

 hermes ,   jaw   clenched   and   twitching ,   listens   to   zagreus   with   admiration   as   they   make   attempt   after   attempt   to   shut   dion’s   biggest   fans   up .   they   don’t   shut   up .   in   fact ,   they   get   worse .   it’s   entirely   possible   they   recognize   the   cousins ,   and   they’re   looking   for   the   opportunity   to   sue   some   rich   kids   after   goading   them   into   an   altercation .   hermes   says   nothing   at   first  ;    he   doesn’t   even   look   at   them .   they   keep   their   attention   fixed   on   the   near   empty   glass   in   their   hand .   let   zag   handle   it ,   let   zag   handle   it ,   let   zag   handle   it .   don’t   mistake   this   mantra   for   maturity :   hermes   is   simply   self   aware   enough   to   know   that   if   he   opens   his   mouth   he   will   end   up   in   a   jail   cell .   or   an   ambulance .   so   he   tries ,   desperately ,   to   let   zag   handle   it .   hermes   downs   his   drink   and   orders   another .   when   zagreus   asks   a   second   time   for   them   to   fuck   off   and   shut   up ,   and   they   reply   by   stepping   towards   him   with   malice ,  the   cousins   exchange   a   look .   

 so   i   guess   this   is   where   my   night   is   going ,   he   thinks ,   downing   his   drink   in   one   swallow .   because   of   course   this   is   where   my   night   is   going .   the   liquor   hits   fast ,   and  he  regrets   the   decision   to   chug   it .   he’s   pretty   crossed   already .   just   crossed   enough   to   do   what   he’s   about   to   do .    he   turns   to   face   the   offending   group   finally   and   says ,   ❛ ❛   i’m   pretty   sure   my   cousin   politely   asked   for   you   to   shut   the   fuck   up .    ❜ ❜    hermes   rolls   up   their   sleeves .    suddenly   ––   he   hears   poseidon’s   voice   in   his   head .   it   cautions   him :   hermes ,   don’t .    hermes   chooses   to   ignores   that .   the   head   asshole   presses   forward .    other   bar   patrons   have   started   to   back   up   from   around   them .   the   bartender   is   telling   them   to   settle   down ,   or   something .   hermes   can’t   hear   it ,   anyways ,   their   ears   are   ringing .    the   asshole   says :    ❛ ❛   why  ?   all   i   said   was   your   sister   is    a   talentless   whore .   it’s   a   simple ,   objective   fact   –––     ❜ ❜    and   then   the   asshole’s   face   finds   itself   breaking   against   zag’s   fist .   to   be   fair ,   zagreus   asked   him   very   kindly   to   shut   up ,  more   than   once .   after   that ,   he   simply   cannot   be   responsible   for   his   actions .   hermes   jumps   in   after   his   cousin ,   and   things   get   worse   from   there .