Isolde's Idle Thoughts

TRUE STORY. 

TODAY AT WORK WE WERE STANDING AROUND AND TALKING ABOUT DAN FEUERRIEGEL. AND THIS GIRL SAID SHE WATCHES THE SHOW. AND I SAID, SO YOU KNOW WHO AGRON IS?

AND SHE SAYS YES. 

AND THIS OLDER LADY HAD NO IDEA. APPARENTLY I HAVEN’T WORD VOMITED MY DAN LOVE ON HER. 

SO THE FIRST GIRL PULLS UP A PICTURE ON THE INTERNET AND SAYS, THIS IS AGRON.

AND THE OLDER LADY SAID THAT HE WAS VERY, VERY HOT. 

AND THEN LATER I SHOWED HER OTHER PICTURES AND SHE SAID HE WAS VERY, VERY HOT. 

AND THAT WAS IT. 

TRUE STORY, BRO. TRUE STORY

It’s Not a Home Until Someone Bleeds on the Furniture

All four chapters are here. It’s finally done! 

Thank you for reading :) Comments are soooo much appreciated. I might even bear your children 

Chapter 9 of my Nagron AU. GETTING TO THE END NOW!

Wherein Nasir works in a mental health facility. Agron might be crazy. And they might love each other anyway.

All other chapters, plus my other works can be found here. http://archiveofourown.org/users/TristansGirl . Dan, stay out of this tag …

It’s a cloudy, moonless night and Agron’s room is black as pitch.  It is well past the hour for sleep but he can’t seem to fall to slumber. Instead he lies in bed and stares up at the bleak outlines of the ceiling tiles and thinks.

His thoughts are not new or novel. They have plagued him for weeks now, ever since he found Nasir. Ever since he realized that what he felt for Nasir was more than just a passing fancy.

The man holds his heart like no one ever has. And it is no longer enough to steal snippets of conversation and glances and the briefest of kisses. He wants more. He wants a life; a life with Nasir, a life away from this place, a life where he can be a man again.

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So it struck me, as I’m watching the finale for the third time (don’t judge me, ok???), that Nasir is one of the ones doing the I am Spartacus shout outs at the beginning.

I mean, I’d noticed it before, but every time I watch it, it impresses me a little more. 

And then I start to imagine … What is Agron feeling as he lies in his sickbed, still bleeding and in pain, watching Nasir go off to fight and represent as Spartacus?

“This time you stay and I go.”  Reversed. Big time. 

I can almost see their parting, Nasir kissing Agron tenderly and assuring him that he’ll be fine, that he’ll return to him before too long. And perhaps also reassuring Agron that it will only be a matter of time before he (Agron) can fight again. 

And then Agron, so proud of his warrior but at the same time yearning to go back out there and prove himself again, to regain what he feels he has lost - his spirit desperately needing to fight but his body betraying him … 

Oh the delicious angst. 

So um … anyone else smell a fic in the making? 

Sorry I’m still not sorry

I FUCKING KNEW IT. I JUST FUCKING KNEW IT!

WELL, I DIDN’T BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW W/ DEKNIGHT, BUT I HAD A FEELING THAT IT WAS AGRON THAT WAS GOING TO SURVIVE. I HAD A FEELING THAT NAGRON WOULD SURVIVE. AND JUST… OH THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THAT. 

JUST THANK YOU SO MUCH!

AND NOW I’LL GO TO BD AND TRY TO PROCESS LATER BECAUSE… DAMN… THAT WAS ONE HELL OF A FINALE

Rating: R I think

Warnings: Slavery and all that the word implies. Aftermath of violence and starvation. Modern AU. Hurt!Agron

Summary: One man’s discarded slave is another man’s treasure

Notes: This will be a short one. Maybe a 4 parter. I needed some hurt!Agron. And I always love me some slavefic. This is set in modern times, imagining a world where the ways of Rome never died out

Agron watched in contemplative silence as the two men haggled on his price.

Even now, after all his years of being a slave, he could never quite get used to being talked about as a thing instead of a person. He tried to distract himself from the sting of it by focusing on his new master.

He had to admit that the man was pretty, what with his long dark hair and dark eyes. He thought perhaps, if Nasir wanted to lay with him, that it would not be so terrible. At least he wouldn’t have to close his eyes and pretend that it was someone else. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to fight the urge to vomit afterward

He had to laugh at his own foolishness a moment later. He hadn’t seen himself since Raimer had attacked him, but he did know that he looked like fucking hell. Half starved and beaten to within an inch of his life was not a good look on anybody. There was no possible way that Nasir could want him as a bed slave.

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Ok… the last thing I’m going to say about the crucifixion. I promise. At least for today. 

So … I’m going to try and headcanon Agron here. I can imagine him going to war with Crixus, hoping for victory but preparing for defeat. But he was ok with that because 

1. If they had won, the Republic would have been severely crippled if not outright destroyed. He could go back to Nasir, victorious and bathed in glory and they would have been able to forge on together as free men

2. A loss would have at least meant buying more time for Nasir which was of course, his goal all along. And if it was a loss, he probably imagined himself going down in a blaze of glory as all warriors do. 

What he got instead was the defeat of the cross. Slow, painful and humiliating. Trapped there on display, half naked, beaten and bruised. The sun beating down on him mercilessly, given no food or drink, the pain from his older wounds now joined by the incessant throbbing agony of the new pain in his hands. The knowledge that even if he survived he would never again be able to hold a sword. 

He probably imagined a glorious death in battle and what he got was pain and thirst and piss and shit. Because let’s face it, not like he could say, “Mr. Roman Soldier, I need to pee, can you let me down for a moment?” Imagine Agron, the proud warrior we all know he is, subjected to all that.

And maybe the worst part of all - the knowledge that he could, right at that very moment, be in Nasir’s arms if he had just taken the other road.

*Dan, stay out of this tag, ok? This is too much for your eyes

No wonder my poor baby Agron looked so exhausted and broken and just DONE.

Interesting article on crucifixion and how one dies from it. The truth of the matter is - no one really one because no one is replicating a crucifixion exactly. Also, too many variables could affect the cause of death, such as :  was the victim whipped before hand? made to carry the crossbeam? Was he tied to it or nailed to it? Were his legs broken? 

The following can be disturbing, especially when we consider that that was our favorite German suffering up for god knows how long.

“Lots of ways have been suggested for how this grisly process might kill you: exhaustion, exposure, heart failure, blood clot, pulmonary embolism, acidosis (the body’s pH going badly out of whack), hypovolemic shock (organ failure resulting from drop in blood volume, due either to dehydration or bleeding), arrhythmia, hemothorax or hemopneumothorax (accumulation of blood and air around the lungs) leading to lung collapse. Chances are the cause of death varied depending on circumstances.

The thing is, once you realize crucifixion is supposed to be slow, the exact mechanism of death doesn’t seem so important. Obviously if you leave a guy exposed to the elements long enough he’ll die of something — starvation, if nothing else. Some believe animal scavengers killed the victims, plausible if you recall that the crosses were usually quite short.”

Oh Agron. I loved how absolutely fierce you were even when they were beating you. 

But then they nailed you to a cross. I have to wonder how long you were there. And what your thoughts were. 

Whatever you saw up there, whatever you experienced in your own mind, changed you. At least for the moment. I have never seen you so beaten, so defeated and broken.