#I went with Masters because that's the name this Master used in his second appearance on the show | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sansaorgana · 2 months ago

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— CHRYSALIS (I)

PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Vala/half-Elf!Reader (Morgoth's Daughter)

SUMMARY — She is no Vala, no Maia and no Elf. Whatever she is remains the most exceptional and undeniably powerful. Morgoth's daughter can either heal Middle-earth or destroy it. Mairon makes a promise to her mother – the one he had once kidnapped for his master – that he would take care of this extraordinary creature but it is no easy task.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It is a bit of a crazy idea, gotta admit, and I probably fucked with canon waaaay too much but bear with me, please! 🤣 I came up with this idea after reading on the Wiki that Morgoth was bound to his physical form, so I assumed he could actually have a child? 🤔 Anyway, in the beginning of this story you get the backstory of Reader's mother and Morgoth. Reader's mother was given a name (Tasarë, which is supposed to mean willow) but her physical appearance is not described (nor is Reader's). That backstory of Tasarë and Morgoth was my idea for another Sauron x Reader fanfic but I couldn't figure out how they could possibly end up together after she develops Stockholm's Syndrome for Morgoth, so I just used the idea in this fic as a backstory of Reader's mother. I also chose this title for the fic because butterflies appear quite a lot in this fanfic and I think the Reader is a bit like a chrysalis as well – nobody knows what will become of her.

WARNINGS — kidnapping, forced marriage, Stockholm's Syndrome (Reader's mother), abusive relationships (Reader's mother with Morgoth AND Reader with Sauron), manipulation, First Age Sauron being his loser self but still trying to get his way as usual, the Reader being half light/half darkness, which results in her acting unhinged at times (she mostly speaks in a dramatic manner lmao)

WORD COUNT — 6,400

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

CHRYSALIS (I)

Tasarë was her name – young Elven girl Mairon saw through the trees in his wolf form. His yellow eyes of the beast were following the way she danced around the fire with her friends, her long hair waving in the wind and her laughter travelling through the cold air of the night.

Perhaps none of this story would happen if she hadn’t looked back, sensing his presence. He could sense from afar the shiver that went down her spine after spotting him and their eyes met – hers filling with fear after realising she had been observed by a werewolf.

Startled by her sensing his presence, Mairon ran away from there to meet with his master who impatiently awaited his report. As usual, Melkor wanted to make sure Mairon was not lying about anything, therefore he allowed himself to sneak into his servant’s mind. And amongst his memories of the battles and schemes, he found the one about the young Elven maiden Tasarë and Mairon’s fascination with her.

“You will bring her to me,” Melkor ordered. “And she will be untouched and unspoiled when she arrives here.”

Mairon nodded. He could not refuse, could he? And he could never defile what belonged to his master, so he obeyed the order completely.

He kidnapped Tasarë away from her village and her pure heart treated him with nothing but kindness throughout their whole journey. She begged him often to let her go and if it depended on him only – he would. He would, in a heartbeat.

Or perhaps he would not. Perhaps he would keep her for himself.

But he knew that he was taking her to her demise. What would Melkor do to her? Each time she smiled at Mairon while bathing in the moonlight, radiating pure beauty and light, he wondered about the pain that awaited her and his heart ached for her.

“When we arrive there, what will happen to me?” She asked once as if she had already accepted the fact she was kidnapped but the details had been kept from her until now.

“You will become a bride,” Mairon informed her and a hint of smile showed on her face, which surprised him.

“Yours?” She inquired. Perhaps such a thought was not as dreadful to her as he would expect – after all the weeks they had spent together, he became the devil she knew, after all.

“My master’s,” Mairon answered and her smile disappeared as her body froze.

“Your master?” Tasarë raised an eyebrow.

“I cannot tell you his name,” Mairon shook his head and she looked up at the night sky with tears filling her eyes.

“Do not then. I believe I know already,” she whispered.

When Mairon brought her to Melkor’s fortress, it was the last time he saw her. The Dark Lord sent him away right after as if he was afraid of the bond forged between Tasarë and his servant.

And when Mairon was back from his mission, Tasarë was not in the fortress anymore. From Melkor’s other servants, Mairon found out that his master sent her away to one of the most secluded castles up in the coldest and loneliest realms of the North. Where she was hidden from everyone and everything and where Melkor could visit her whenever he wanted to. His little bride no one else could even lay their eyes on.

“How can she endure that?” Mairon whispered but the answer he received was even sadder than whatever he had been expecting instead.

“She grew to love him. She had no other choice.”

Many long years had passed since that time and Mairon never expected to see Tasarë again but Melkor sent him – his most loyal servant – to his most secluded and hidden fortress to carry a very important message to his lover. Mairon was supposed to be a messenger and he tried his best not to show his enthusiasm too much because it could worry and alarm his master.

It was not pure joy or excitement, however, no. It was also a curiosity with a bit of anxiety at the thought of what could be left of Tasarë after all the centuries of being Melkor’s bride.

The journey was long and boring – there was nothing around but vast land of white snow and dried out trees. The place where she was being kept was the most secluded and the loneliest he could imagine. He wondered if it was still in the same dimension because the longer he travelled, the more he felt as if he was crossing a bridge from one world to another.

He spotted the castle first – enormous and black with tall towers shaped as if they were spikes. It contrasted with the white land of endless snow although the weather was dark and gloomy. Days were short here if they existed at all.

As he travelled through the snow, nearly effortlessly due to the fact he was a Maia, therefore the cold was not his enemy, he spotted something that made him furrow his brows – footsteps on the snow.

They belonged to a person – a female, he assumed, judging by the size. Was it possible that Tasarë was not as obedient to Melkor as her lover had been suspecting? After all, she was not supposed to ever leave the castle’s walls.

Mairon followed the traces with his heart pounding in his chest, awaiting to see her again but then he froze at the sight of a young woman sitting on the snow nearby one of the castle’s back doors, under a leafless tree with ice-decorated branches.

The young woman was certainly not Tasarë although she resembled her a little. Her ears were pointed but Mairon could feel even from afar that she was no ordinary Elf. She was a creature much more powerful and when he squinted his eyes, he noticed that flowers were growing under her hands and butterflies were flying around her as she laughed. She could not only bend the world to her liking but she could also create new life. She was no goddess, though, of that he was sure.

She was no Elf, no Maia, no Vala. What was she, he wondered…?

When she turned around for a moment while looking at the butterflies, his heart froze in his chest. Her face was… terrifying.

It was undeniably beautiful but gruesome at the same time. Whoever would stare at her for too long, could risk being turned into a stone. There was only one as godly beautiful as scary to the point of no one being able to look at his face for too long and Melkor was his name.

“Who are you? Why are you hiding there?” The young woman asked as a butterfly sat on her hand and she batted her snow-covered eyelashes while looking in the direction of Mairon who was hiding behind a huge rock covered with ice.

“I… Forgive me,” he cleared his throat and stepped out, bowing his head slightly and she chuckled.

“Your hair resembles fire,” she pointed out. “Are you here to burn me?”

“I don't even know who you are,” Mairon confessed. “I am here for Lady Tasarë,” he explained and the girl pouted.

“Sad,” she shrugged her arms. “I hoped that finally some adventure would happen to me. Do you know I have been living in this castle ever since I was born? A whole century!” She whined. She was an adult already but still very young and considering the fact she did not know the real world, it was understandable that she was still like a child in many ways. “Is there anything else except for the snow?”

“There is,” Mairon assured her and crouched down next to her as he pointed at the butterfly on her hand. “You create such things. Flowers, butterflies…”

“Oh, but they…” She looked down sadly and then she looked up again to meet his gaze but with so much mischief in her eyes that a shiver travelled down Mairon’s spine at how terrifying she truly was. “I bring them to life only to die. Look, they’re drying out already in the cold. I give them life and they suffer because of my whim,” she informed him without any emotion whatsoever.

“Why then?” Mairon inquired.

“Because I am selfish,” she answered. “I destroy.”

“You can heal, too,” Mairon assured her and reached out to help the dying butterfly. “Look,” he focused on giving away some of his energy to make the butterfly regain its strength and the young woman’s eyes sparkled as she laughed.

“You fed him with your own spirit,” she noticed. “Why do you think I would let any parasite feed off of me? Who would be ever worthy of sharing my power?” She asked and Mairon’s mouth opened slightly as he was thinking of an answer but they were interrupted by another woman walking out of the castle through the back door.

“(Y/N),” familiar but horribly changed voice caused his facial muscles to twitch out of nervousness. “You are forbidden from going outside. How many more times do I have to say that?”

“You’ve no control over me. I am my own storm; my own thunder,” the girl named (Y/N) stood up angrily.

Mairon stood up as well and straightened his back as he clasped his hands and kept staring down, not daring to look up before being addressed.

“Stop being dramatic and go back inside,” Tasarë sighed and (Y/N) groaned out of frustration before going inside the castle. “Mairon,” the Elf finally called his name and he raised his head.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Her kin was known for staying forever young, yet she aged in the most peculiar way. The corruption and rot had spread throughout her and there was nothing but a shell of her old self now. In a way, she reminded Mairon of the fallen Elves that Melkor had taken to turn into the Uruks but she remained more beautiful than them and she was not covered with any scars.

Because it was not his torture that had damaged her but his love. Everything about him was destructive and deadly.

The young Elven maiden dancing innocently around the fire in the moonlight was long gone. The woman standing in front of him was a mockery of her old self.

“Stop pitying me, Mairon,” she snarled at him with contempt. “Did he send you here or were you a fool to give in to your urges to find me and check on the state of me?” She asked.

“He sent me,” Mairon answered. “I have a message.”

“Come in then,” Tasarë pointed at the doors and he went inside the castle. It was as dark and cold on the inside as on the outside.

Tasarë led him to the big room where (Y/N) was sitting as well. She was reading a manuscript by the fire and looked up with a wicked smile at the sight of them.

“Leave us,” Tasarë ordered and the young girl clenched her jaw out of anger before walking out.

“Who is she?” Mairon asked in a whisper.

“You know who she is. You suspect. The answer is yes,” Tasarë sat by the table and reached her hand out for him to hand her the message.

Mairon did so but his brow remained furrowed. Well, it was possible for his master to become a father – as wicked as it sounded – but he was now bound to the form of his flesh. That was the very reason why he was avoiding taking part in his battles despite some accusing him of cowardice. And for a Vala, being bound to the form of your flesh also meant that you could reproduce.

“Forgive me. I have asked the wrong question,” Mairon interrupted Tasarë as she was reading and she looked up to meet his gaze, irritated. “I should have not asked who she was,” he nodded. “What is she?”

“It is hard to tell,” Tasarë answered. “She is like a god but weaker than one. Perhaps a bit like you. She can change her forms and no ordinary blow will slay her. She can create life as you have already seen. She… terrifies me,” Tasarë confessed. “But I love her.”

“Like you love her father?”

Tasarë gave him a scolding look.

“You are asking too many questions, Mairon. He will look through your mind, don’t you know? He will punish you for the fact you have seen (Y/N). That you know about her. That you dared to ask about her and now this… My sweet devil, you must enjoy the pain he is giving you,” she shook her head.

“So do you, apparently,” Mairon did not give up. The punishment would come anyway already, she was right about that.

“It is impossible not to… He is a god,” Tasarë explained as if she was surprised that she had to explain that at all. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be chosen by a god?”

“Not like you do,” Mairon admitted.

Long silence occurred and Tasarë looked around as if she was scared Melkor was right there, spying on them. Because, perhaps he could be. She beckoned Mairon over and he leaned in to hear her words better and her lips nearly brushed his slightly pointed ear as his ginger hair tickled her cheek.

“I have dismissed her to protect you and her from his wrath. You cannot know too much about her but one thing I shall tell you – she is half me, too. Half of the real me. The woman you saw dancing by the fire as a beast; the woman you kidnapped to lay her on his lethal altar and sacrifice her. And now her daughter terrifies me but the amount of her power is so vast… She can heal as much as destroy, my sweet master of deception. And I can see how much healing is what you truly crave,” Tasarë confessed. “Promise me that you will take care of her if anything happens. That you will watch over her. You owe me that. You owe that to the young maiden you took away from her family for him to destroy.”

“I can’t assure you I will be able to tame her,” Mairon breathed out, taken aback by her plea.

“I am not asking you to tame her,” Tasarë shot him a glance. “Don’t you even dare! I am asking you to… accompany her. She is awfully lonely here. She craves to see the world and I am sure the world craves to see her as well for she is a wonder.”

“I will,” Mairon nodded, with all seriousness.

He had seen (Y/N) only for a while but he was drawn to her already. In a way, he understood why Melkor was hiding her from the world. Everyone would be drawn to her. She was the most extraordinary creature. Her enormous power, the light balancing with the darkness within her – the innocence mixed with wickedness.

He was honoured to be chosen by her mother to be burdened with such a task. And he owed her that favor.

When Melkor fell and the Valar locked him away, Tasarë followed him even though she was offered mercy. But there was no life for her anymore except for the life next to her lover and she refused to abandon him in the abyss. She volunteered to spend the eternity there with him and the Valar were in awe of her devotion to the point they granted her Elven flesh the possibility of spending her forever alongside Melkor in the dimension of his prison.

The Valar also found out about the existence of (Y/N) and they debated for a long time about what to do with a creature so extraordinary. However, she remained completely innocent so far and the only danger about her was her father’s heritage.

Nienna, She Who Weeps, was (Y/N)’s greatest advocate. And when Mairon was given his second chance to come back to Valinor and face his judgement, they asked him to bring (Y/N) with him because they wanted to meet her – yet the castle she was in remained out of their grasp, which only made Mairon realise that it was truly another dimension that his master had created to hide his lover and offspring in from the world.

And so Mairon went back to that secluded realm in the North, trying to find his master’s daughter. And he found her inside the castle, curled on the floor, in the middle of the biggest room. She seemed to be frozen but she was obviously still alive. He crouched down next to her and touched her shoulder gently, which caused her to stir.

“They abandoned me. Both of them. I shall stay here forever,” she mumbled out.

“Did you not want to see the world?” Mairon asked her gently and (Y/N) looked up at him as she snorted.

“That was a long time ago. My father is defeated now. There is no world for me anymore,” she answered, as dramatically as when he had met her for the first time a few centuries earlier.

“Truth to be told, your father was destroying the world. There would be nothing for you to see if he succeeded. But it is still there, although hurt and bruised. Together, we can heal it,” Mairon offered her his hand.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him, visibly intrigued. She sat up and fixed her hair.

“I promised your mother to watch over you if anything happens. She did not want you to be left alone,” he added to encourage her.

“Why would she ask you out of all?” (Y/N) remained suspicious, doubting his status.

“My name is Mairon. I was your father’s most powerful Lieutenant,” Mairon pointed out, nearly offended that he had to introduce himself to anyone. “Most people know me by a different name, though. It is… Sauron,” he winced a little while saying this.

“The Abhorred,” (Y/N) hummed to herself. “Ah, yes, my mother only spoke of you this way when you were not around,” she added and Mairon pursed his lips, trying not to show his irritation too much. “Well, do you promise me that I will see the world?” She asked as she held his hand, which he still kept extended.

“Yes, I do,” Mairon nodded.

It was never his intention to inform her about the chance the Valar wanted to give them. No, it was not his plan to take her to Valinor and to face their judgement. He had much better plans for the two of them.

Ever since he had seen her for the first time and the promise he had made to her mother, he could not help imagining and plotting them two ruling over Middle-earth. And when Melkor’s defeat had become a question of when instead of if, he had already known that (Y/N) was his future.

Despite the seed of evil deep inside of her – alongside the seed of goodness, of course – she was an innocent being who knew nothing of the real world. He could shape her the way he wished and whatever would come out of her was all in his hands now. In a way, he was a god of this situation – considering she would not be too uncontrollable due to her undeniable power. But which seed would grow within her was up to him entirely. It was his choice which part of her he would water and feed, pamper and spoil.

“We will go everywhere. We will heal and we will conquer. I will take your father’s place amongst the dark creatures of the shadows. I will lead them and I will rule over Middle-earth but you will not be hidden away any longer. No, you will be right by my side,” Mairon promised. He was always good with words and he could see how her terrifying eyes were starting to sparkle at his promises.

“As?” She inquired.

“What do you mean as?” He furrowed his brows.

“As whom? I will be by your side as whom?” (Y/N) explained her question.

“As whoever you wish to be. I am not here to tame you,” he remembered her mother’s words.

No, he was there to use her. To take advantage of her power and to bask in it. To introduce her as Morgoth’s daughter and his right hand, which would convince the dark creatures to follow him more eagerly.

And to have her as his own, to own her, to be the only man able to touch her and look at her. His master’s daughter – she was a prize indeed. Half-goddess he was unworthy of and yet she would eat from his hand.

Those were only bold daydreams that he knew his master and her mother would kill him for but they were far away and he remained out of their reach.

Because perhaps there was some goodness in him still and that urge to heal the world but at heart he was a predator and a warlord. And even though she still felt like nothing but Melkor’s humbled servant sometimes, he knew that with time he would eventually bloom into his worthy successor. Offering him her daughter while calling out the remains of his softness, Tasarë had not known that she had been giving (Y/N) away to Melkor’s shadow.

“I can sense your greed, Sauron,” (Y/N) squeezed his fingers tighter as if she was trapping him. “But greed is no stranger to me for I have been locked here since birth. I am greedy for life. Selfish for it. And I need your guidance,” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

He saw fire in her gaze – her father’s uncontrollable destruction. Perhaps he should slay her and leave her to rot. Perhaps it would be for the better for the whole of Middle-earth and for him, too. He got scared suddenly that he would never be able to keep her temper and her powers under control.

That not only she would finish her father’s work but she would overthrow him – Mairon himself.

But he could also see the flowers blooming and the sun rising above the green hills – she and she only could turn Middle-earth into a realm as beautiful as Valinor; the place he was no longer welcome.

Mairon helped (Y/N) to stand up and he adjusted her dresses as if he was a maid, getting rid of all the dust.

“Do you think the world will fall on its knees at the sight of me?” She asked without the smallest hint of irony. Nearly innocently she believed that she was the most exceptional and the most special creature. And the worst thing was that she had every right to because she was.

“I will make sure of it,” Mairon promised her and she smiled.

And when she was smiling, she was resembling her mother the most – the very same kind smile Tasarë had been giving him during their journey to Melkor after he had kidnapped her.

Mairon’s heart clenched at the memory.

From one fortress to another Mairon took her – from one prison to another, (Y/N) would say. They had moved South significantly but they hadn’t even left the North yet and (Y/N) was bitter about it since snow and ice was still all she could see. She was unprepared to roam freely around Middle-earth, though, and she was given much more space now instead while the new fortress was much fuller with creatures of all kinds, therefore she could no longer call herself lonely.

It made Mairon happy to see how the Orcs were bowing their heads at the sight of her, nearly touching the ground with their foreheads; too scared to look into her terrifying, cold eyes. He was so excited about it that he did not realise how suspicious Adar was getting.

(Y/N) was given the most beautiful gowns by Mairon and even though it was making him feel frustrated to feel this way – he truly enjoyed giving her gifts and watching her eyes sparkle, although sometimes she would openly admit she found something ugly. He waited for her harsh judgement with anticipation and her approval meant the world to him, meanwhile her rejection felt like a blow. And he hated that for one reason only – it was a brutal reminder that he was a Maia and his nature was of a servant.

His eyes always followed her – he told himself it was to protect her but truth to be told, it was the world that should be protected from her and not the other way around. Yet, he witnessed her whims and dramatic outbursts, her laughter – both pure and wicked – her dancing and her acts of creation. Within the walls of this fortress her butterflies lived much longer and she adorably found it endearing.

But she was also fascinated by the weapons of all sorts and forbidden magic spells left by her father. Her blood was as black and thick as his, Mairon noticed one day when she drew it with a dagger to perform one innocent spell.

He felt like a nanny sometimes – running towards her to take away the books with too dangerous spells from her. She was yet unprepared to use them. He did not even want to think about what would happen if she was left unsupervised.

Therefore, even in her dreams he followed her and she often dreamt of her mother and of imaginary lands since she had no idea what the real ones looked like. And he had to admit the realms (Y/N) was creating with her mind were… beautiful. They were full of sun and green fields of grass, butterflies and flowers. They were ideal and full of harmony – the very first time Mairon had joined them in her dreams, he nearly cried because it was exactly how he wanted the world to look like. But it also meant that at the end of the day (Y/N)’s heart remained pure and uncorrupted.

And just like that, he fell in love with her. As her protector, as her servant, as her subject, as her friend. As her lover.

One evening Mairon asked (Y/N) to join him in the forge where she had not yet been. She walked inside and looked around with widened eyes and a smile – soft but a little contemptuous as well.

“Do you like it?” Mairon asked her with his hands clasped nervously behind his back.

“Perhaps. But is it not a commoner’s work to commit himself to physical labour?” She leaned her back onto the pillar and Mairon chuckled nervously as he approached her.

“Would a commoner craft you such wonders?” He asked as he reached his hand out and showed her a necklace and a ring that he was holding inside his hand and that he had forged for her a few days earlier. He had been lacking the courage to give it to her until now, though.

“Are they for me?” (Y/N) asked as her eyes sparkled when she took the jewellery from him. Mairon nodded at her question, proud of himself because she visibly liked the gift. “Why?” She asked.

“You do not own any,” he answered.

“But who sees me here? I surely have no need to look grand for the Orcs,” she laughed.

“I see you,” Mairon pointed out and she froze.

He panicked at first, scared that those three words had been three too many. But she was not looking at him at all. She pointed her finger at the item behind his back.

“That is…” (Y/N) whispered.

“Your father’s crown,” Mairon nodded and walked up to it. “I am about to reforge it to fit me. Do you want to watch?” He asked and (Y/N) nodded, hesitantly.

She put on her new necklace and a new ring before Mairon offered her one of the leather aprons. It made her giggle when he was putting it over her gown.

“I would not want your robes to get damaged,” he informed her and she nodded as she sat on the chair nearby and watched with fascination how he worked.

When the black iron of her father’s crown melted, she sighed loudly and Mairon turned his head around to raise his eyebrow at her.

“What is it?”

“I was thinking if you could forge an item for me made out of this iron, too,” she looked up at him. “He was my father. I wish to keep a part of him with me always.”

“You are part of him,” Mairon laughed and she pouted. “But, surely, why not,” he promised and she grinned.

He poured a small amount of the liquid black iron aside to one of the cauldrons over the fire to avoid solidification. And while he worked on his new crown, he wondered what he could forge for (Y/N).

A bold idea came to his mind – an idea so forbidden that he felt a shiver travel down his spine at the thought of what her parents would do to him for having it.

Yet, he was out of their reach, so he went with it and at the end of the night, he handed (Y/N) a wedding band.

“Another ring?” She huffed. “Thought you would be more creative,” she sighed. “It doesn’t even have any gemstone attached to it!”

“Do you know what that is?” Mairon asked, a little impatiently, but mostly nervously. If she rejected him now, it would certainly be one of his grandest humiliations.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows and tilted her head as she stared at the item in her hand, looking at it from every angle. And when the light from the forge’s fire reflected upon the surface of the band, the letters glistened and she read them out loud in a whisper.

“It is a love declaration in Black Speech,” she looked up to meet his gaze as Mairon swallowed the lump in his throat. “That language was not made with love declarations in mind, that is for sure,” she remarked.

“Nevermind then,” Mairon tore the item out of her hands and walked away nervously to avoid her gaze. Taking deep breaths to calm himself down after such a humiliation, he did not hear her footsteps following him.

“Sauron…” She whispered, addressing him by the only name she was ever calling him with because her mother had taught her so, and touched his shoulder but he flinched. “You do not like that name, do you?”

“Yet you keep using it,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

“The Abhorred sounds so pretty to me,” she confessed and he softened a little but still refused to turn around and meet her gaze. “From the moment I saw you those centuries ago… I knew that you were the one for me,” she added and Mairon’s heart quickened. “You showed up out of nowhere like a knight out of my dreams who would save me. Your red hair contrasting with the snow… I shall never forget that day.”

Mairon finally turned around and he watched as she cupped his face gently and pulled his head down to be able to place a kiss upon his forehead while his heart began to pounder.

“However, I cannot marry a man who needs me more than I need him,” she added when she let go of him, her words shattering his heart into millions of pieces.

And alongside the pain, anger came as well. Mairon did not enjoy being rejected.

“If you think you do not need me, you are mistaken,” he spoke as the sudden fury overtook him, causing his veins to swell with thick, black blood. (Y/N) took a step back at the sight. “If it was not for me, you would still be rotting in that fortress, hidden away from the world. I took you here, I prepare your father’s armies to continue their march because you have never been taught anything. I am the one promising you the whole Middle-earth, ensuring its people will worship you. If you do not wish to be sent back there to rot, then you have to accept the fact that I am your only future!” He snapped and calmed down right after, softening immediately as his hands began to tremble slightly. He fixed his hair and clasped his shaky hands quickly to hide his nervousness from her.

“You… You dropped the band,” was all (Y/N) said to that as she pointed at the floor before crouching down to pick it up.

Before she stood up, she looked up at his face and it only made him feel even more guilty and scared for lashing out on her.

“Forgive me,” he grabbed her face and leaned in to be as close as he could. “Forgive me, please, I did not mean to… Gods, it has never been my intention to hurt you,” he was lying to herself as much as to his own self. “You must forgive me, it was only caused by fear. Fear of losing you,” he continued and felt her muscles relaxing eventually.

She even dared to wrap her arms around him as she clinged to him like a child seeking warmth.

“I would never leave you,” she breathed out and brushed his ginger hair to put the loose hair strands behind his ears. “There is nothing I am scared of more than to be left all alone again. You were right and I was mistaken – I do need you. I was teasing you only but I did not expect such wrath in return. You are all I have. What is the point of being so powerful when there is no one to witness?” She finished with a playful question and Mairon sighed out of relief, leaning in to brush her nose a little with his own.

She winced slightly and giggled before moving her head to brush him with the tip of her nose as well. Like two kittens they played like that for a while until he finally joined their lips together and she opened her mouth to let him devour her.

He felt Melkor’s wrath even from all the dimensions away but he could not care less about any of that. To hold a creature like her so close and to feel the heart of her flesh beating so fast for him was a victory of its own. For a moment, he nearly wanted to abandon all his schemes and start a new life with her somewhere – to create a life like the one from her dreams but for the both of them only where they could hide from the world and spend eternity in each other’s embrace.

“Please, don’t send me away back there,” she whispered softly after breaking the kiss, her lower lip trembling slightly.

How silly she could be. He would not be able to do so even if he tried because she was too powerful for that. Yet, her loneliness caused her dependance on him and it was all for him for the taking. He felt bad taking advantage of that but it was too tempting to reject.

“My beautiful (Y/N),” he whispered and caressed her cheeks. “You will never be alone. Wherever you go, I shall follow. And wherever you go, I shall make sure everyone there worships your light and your darkness as equals for you are too powerful to be reduced to one. You will help me to heal, to create new life and I will lead your father’s armies to ensure our victories,” he promised and she smiled before pecking his lips once more.

(Y/N) took a small step back and he watched in awe as she put the wedding band onto her finger. His heart and soul sang at the sight.

“I refuse to be in the shadows like my mother once was. I want to lead the armies with you,” she met Mairon’s gaze. “I want to earn my own squalid name, Sauron. The Abhorred. I want to carry my own title with pride,” she revealed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

How cute and innocent she could be one moment and how terrifying the next. Mairon wondered if the war of her two natures within her was exhausting her. Was she being haunted constantly by the duel of her light and her darkness?

But perhaps there was no war within her. It was only natural for her, after all. Perhaps they coexisted and balanced perfectly and it all made sense somehow. And perhaps it was not his duty to understand any of this but to accept her the way she was.

“You will be given a sword and armour,” he promised. “You will be their Queen of The Day and of The Night. You will be their rescue and their demise. Their Sun and their Moon. Their Life and their Death. And whatever path you choose, I shall follow you down the road.”

“Worry not,” (Y/N) chuckled and approached him to put her hands on his shoulders. “I know it is your wish to heal. And my wish is to rule over a world so beautiful like the ones from my dreams. I will only destroy those who stand on our way to create such greatness,” she swore.

Her words soothed him but could he truly trust her? She was Melkor’s daughter and his influence might have been stronger than they both suspected. What other choice did Mairon have, though? To slay her? He would never do that. Therefore, all he could do was to keep her close and take care of her.

Who was he fooling, though? His own self?

He was there to follow and serve and it was only the matter of time when she would realise how powerful she truly was and what a great influence she had over him as well.

Even if she would destroy the whole Middle-earth like her father wanted to and create a land of ashes, he would gladly rule over it by her side.

Gods, he would gladly serve there as his Queen’s subject and that would be enough.

“You have no idea what you are doing to me,” he breathed out and she giggled.

“I do. I can see inside your mind.”

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #halbrand x reader #annatar x reader #lilysfiction

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ataraxiaspainting · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet Love.

Yan Illumi x F Reader.

Synopsis: His stare brings more death than a guillotine's blade.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping/forced marriage, dub-con, the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectively, pregnancy, threats of violence, manipulation, misogyny, mentions of physical abuse/isolation, and descriptions of murder.

Word Count: 1.3k.

*~*~*~*

In the morning, you were given a nightgown slightly shorter than the one you laid in the evening before, and your houseshoes were nowhere to be seen. The dress had no sleeves and a space above the bodice which made your collarbones and neck show.

Nothing covered your injuries from the night before – even though you know that everyone knew about your escape attempt last month, and everyone knew the way Illumi dragged you back under the full moon. Kikyo scolded you and threatened to sear your tongue and palms with a hot iron, Silva refused to let you have treatment for your sprained ankle until you apologized, and Zeno won’t even look at you.

Your assigned butlers said even less than usual. Remina merely said two words. Stay here. Haruhi had more to say, but not by much. Master Illumi will be here shortly she said, and then they were both gone.

You were sitting upright on the bed as your more injured leg was surrounded by pillows – a tactic made by yourself to attempt to not make the sprain worse. Jalil… Jalil taught you that.

“I’m coming in,” Illumi’s voice rang in your ears despite his tone being on the quieter side.

When he locked the bedroom door up again, you smelled something faintly sweet. Soap and shampoo and conditioner, perhaps. Or maybe it was just cologne. Either way, it was odd for such a scent to be coming from Illumi. He usually just used products that had no scent at all. There is less of a chance of being caught, he said when you had asked. His steps were slow and steady. They would be undetectable if he did not announce his appearance prior. It was not surprising, because you know what he is, what his whole family is.

You welcome him just as you were taught. Illumi simply nodded.

“Illumi… I…”

He puts his hand up, a gesture common among family members when you speak when you are not supposed to. Compared to all of them, you are just a dog. A rowdy street mutt that was taken in by force and must learn what its job is; to please its master.

“Not yet,” Illumi says. His tone wasn’t the harshest you had heard from him – that title by far goes to him yesterday as he threw around furniture attempting to find you and Jalil. “I have questions, and you are going to respond with a nod or a shake of your head.”

You stay quiet. He sits across from you, leaning on the lower side’s bed frame.

“I understand,” You murmur, not daring to make any eye contact just yet.

“Was that man someone you knew before you married me?” He asked. “Nod or shake your head. It doesn’t matter what your answer is, you know. He is already dead because of you.”

You flinch. When you don’t answer, he asks the question once more. You can feel Illumi’s eyes widening and narrowing with each second that passes on the ticking clock above the vanity. He asks the question two more times, slightly harsher. You don’t say a word because all you can see and feel is red – it’s sticky and warm and smells awful and-

“[First],” Illumi repeats your name enough times to make you come back to reality.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper, accompanied by a shake of your head.

Illumi’s face doesn’t soften. Perhaps it did in the past, but that feels like an eternity ago. You got away with things back then, as small as they were. When you apologized, it all went away. Illumi defended you against his mother’s ideas of punishment, saying you will learn what it means to be his wife. But… that time never came, the lessons weren’t drilled into your skull enough. You didn’t heed any warnings from the younger butlers. You didn’t learn how to read Illumi’s body language fast enough.

“You aren’t forgiven.”

His tone is sharper, more akin to a hiss than something more crooning, but it isn’t full-on anger.

You’ll take what you can get for now.

“However, we’ll continue, and discuss your aborance later.”

You can only imagine what that means. It makes your heart deflate and attempt to free itself from your ribcage – banging and screaming to be freed from the hell that is your body, that is Illumi, that is this family, that is this mansion, that is your life from now on.

“Had you lived with this man for two weeks or more during your escapade?” He asks.

You nod. Illumi didn’t seem to like that answer, from the way the corners of his lips turned downward. Then he buries it inside himself now, just like everything else he dislikes and feels and wants.

It’s only a matter of time before that bomb explodes and burns you to ashes.

“Third question,” You grip your knees, onto the thin soft fabric of the nightgown. If you had more hands you would hold onto the blankets too. The pillowcases and the mattress cover too; just anything to give you the illusion of safety and stability. “Did you have sex with this man?”

Your life flashes before your eyes like you’re a moth about to be absorbed by a lantern’s flame. The good memories, the bad ones, everything. Everything relies on your answer here. No. You rely on your answer here.

If he finds out what is inside your stomach, what you have done when you were free to do whatever you pleased, what would he do then?

Would he kill you? Kill the only part of Jalil you have left?

You cannot bring yourself to allow either of these things to happen.

You shake your head. No. No, you didn’t. You don’t want to forget the memory, but you don’t want to scream it from the rooftops either, especially if it means your life ends then and there.

Illumi liked that answer, you think. His kind smile was uncommon, but all things considered, you and Killua were the only ones he ever did smile at.

“Good. That’s good. Final question,” You dodged a bullet with that last question. You don’t think it can get any worse, and it doesn’t. “Do you want to be a true Zoldyck?”

Not for the first time or the final time, you nod.

*~*~*~*

The sheets were as cold as Illumi’s skin, just as pale too. The curtains were already shut far before you were brought back – his room was untouched because he spent weeks looking for you, after all. Sitting on the edge of the bed, unbuckling his belt, Illumi is grinning. It feels unnatural, like a puppet who has gained sentience or a devil who is learning what it means to be human. His wide eyes were essentially crawling on you, looking everywhere he wouldn’t let anyone else see.

“You’re beautiful,” He whispers.

The lights are off at your request.

Later, when you assume he is asleep, you take the pin off your discarded nightgown that is on the floor. The puncture wound blended in with the rest of your injuries well, and when enough blood was spilled on the mattress, you wiped off the excess under one of the pillowcases, one of the black ones you think.

There.

You put a hand on your stomach. The baby shouldn’t be bigger than those little inch-long cat figurines you used to have in childhood, so everything should be fine.

You are now a Zoldyck too.

#yandere #yandere x reader #author aya #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere illumi #yandere illumi x reader #yandere illumi zoldyck #yandere illumi zoldyck x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x reader

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brucewaynehater101 · 3 months ago

Note

I have a really soft and cute au for Lesbian Janet that could work in any universe but I think works best in the Young Justice TV Show Universe.

See, everyone gets really confused when Tim talks about his Mom, sometimes referring to her as Mama. Tim thinks that using two different titles like that should make it Obvious that he has Two Moms but well. The Bats may be Super Geniuses but they are still Idiots. Tim is also an absolute Mama's Boy with Both his Moms. He loves them both So Much.

Oh, where is Jack you ask? He doesn't actually exist. He's the fake name and personality that Tim's Mama came up with and used Magic to disguise as so they could get Legally Married For Tax Benifits. Also to get his Mama a legal identity. Why would she need one of those? Well... as was mentioned, Tim's Mama has Magic with a Captial M. This by extension means Tim is Magic With A Capital M as well. Totally has nothing to do with Janet and his Mama sculpting him from clay and breathing life into him. Woes of pregnancy who? Not Janet that's for sure.

Also Tim does Not tell anyone that he has Magic and he doesn't show it off. The only reason the Bats found out about it is because Tim came to a meeting with Bruce and Diana went "you. Your Magic is Familure but I don't know from where." And Tim was sweating while saying, "Magic? What magic??" And after getting questioned by Diana and Bruce he Caves and tells them a half truth, "fine. I was made from Clay, like you. My Mom didn't want to go through the struggles of Childbirth but still wanted a child. Instead of adopting like any sane and rational person, she made a deal with a God or Godess. I don't know all the details but she owed them something in exchange for Me. I do know the debt has been paid already though."

The debt was simply a tea spoon of blood for the ritual and A Kiss. Janet over paid the second part by a lot.

As for how Janet met and wooed A Goddess? Well, she was on a dig in Greece when her boat she was using to get to another island was caught in a storm and washed up on a different island. The Goddess was expecting violence or anger at being stranded, perhaps even Sorrow. But no, Janet took one look at the Temple in the distance and was pushing past her saying she needed to get to the Temple because it's clearly in *amazing* condition and could bring So Many insights into Ancient Greek culture and building practice. For the first time in decades, as this Random Woman ran her hand along a pillar and started rambling about the design and what the type of collums were called, Circe felt herself blushing.

CIRCE?!?!?

FUCK YEAH.

Anyways, this is absolutely adorable. Fuck. I would love an entire fic of Janet. Here's a general plot line:

Janet hasn't ever really been interested in romance. She's tried dating a few guys in high school for appearance sake, but she usually broke the relationship off when they became too affectionate.

This is when others started referring to her as "cold." She wasn't, but few people got close enough to her to listen to her rambles about ancient civilizations, archeology, and sociality impacts of culture. She enjoyed other stuff, but nothing quite lit her up like those topics did.

In college, she did find and make a few friends with similar interests. This is where she figured out she was into women and not men. The relationships lasted longer, but she was single by the time she graduated with her bachelor's.

Her master's ends up as some sort of work study where she travels the world. She's more invested in her studies and work than relationships at this point. She enjoys learning about people's lives and cultures but doesn't seek out more than friendship.

I'm not sure if Janet has already or is working on her doctorate by the time she ends up lost on an island (or really how archeology even pays bills).

When she arrives on the island, there's a beautiful woman there as well. Janet notices this, but doesn't give a flying fuck in comparison to the architecture.

And Circe? Finds herself amused and confused by this woman who, although is into women, doesn't care about Circe's looks. Janet just keeps asking questions about Circe's life, the temple, the plants, the culture, etc. It becomes endearing watching her work late into the night with her research.

Janet is so enthralled in all that is going on that she doesn't notice Circe's continuous flirting. It's so fucking frustrating for Circe, but makes her unbearably fond as well. Janet starts to consider this drop dead gorgeous woman a close friend of hers as they "work" late into the chatting about ancient Greece, their past experiences, and their lives. Janet, who has some experience with romance but not much, even flirts back. After all, women call each other beautiful all the time and hold hands and shit. Surely Janet can platonically cuddle with her friend while Circe compares Janet's eyes to the night sky.

It's only when Janet is ready to leave that she realizes that she's willing to give up everything she's worked for, all of her findings and education, to have more time with Circe. Janet is in love with her best friend.

Also, Circe is able to get a fake ID as "Jack" due to magic and Janet's connections

#janet drake #dc au #thank you for the ask!!!!#lesbian janet drake #hc autistic janet drake

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atinystaypixie · 1 year ago

Text

Puppet Master

Summary: Your viewers love every sex product you make and are always excited to see you personally use and promote them on your stream. Your new sex doll is guaranteed to make them crazy. But, of course that's not all to it.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!, Sex streamer reader, loosely based on canon Choso, "sex doll" Choso, sex, Choso licks readers tears, Choso fucks readers throat, sex while standing, reader is denied orgasm once, NOT PROOFREAD

Word Count: 1.8k+

Everyone thank @calibabii21 because my mootie tootie is the only reason I didn't scrap this whole fic🥰

EXTREMELY late entry to Pixie's Spooktober

They loved every product you introduced to the market. No one had a better line of sex toys than you. The various sized dildos in different colors and shapes, the pocket pussies that felt all too real down to the warmth and wetness, the clit catering vibrators, the vibrating cock rings. There was something for everyone and you made it your dedication to expand on your products.

Fans couldn’t get enough of you especially when you were one to personally demonstrate your new toys. They waited eagerly every week for your lives to start. Every second had them on edge this week because they knew you were finally revealing your newest item. Your horny audience couldn’t wait to see what it was. You told them this would be like no other, something that you put a lot of time and effort into. There were comments already flooding in while the clock ticked, so many guesses on what you were going to reveal, so many eager bodies wanting to give you their money already.

Three, two, one….

“Hi, my lustful loves!” Your lingerie adorned body appeared on their screens greeting them with your bright smile. Someone so pretty making such dirty toys always was the part that drove them crazy. Many wished they were fucking you and some practically were. As a thank you for all the support, your milestone toy release was a limited edition replica of your cunt. They went crazy over it and you sold out within the first hour of the release.

“As promised, I have a very special reveal today. This is the first of its kind and different from my usual products. I really can’t wait to see what you think.” Your body goes out of shot for a second before you are seen dragging a chair with a life-size figure in it. Chimes and comments roll in fast and it makes you giggle at how excited your audience has become.

“This is a sex doll, BUT not just any sex doll. Meet C.H.O.S.O. short for Charmingly Handsome Operative Sex Official.” A little giggle leaves you. “His name is silly, but don’t be mistaken. Choso is my first edition sex doll. He is programmed to fuck you better than anyone or anything else. He is AI programmed and adapts to its user being able to learn everything about you within the first twenty seconds of interaction.” You pause and read the comments again.

“Okay, okay. I get it, I’ll stop talking so much and get to fucking. It seems all of you are eager for this one, so many of you can’t even wait through the simple introduction.” You laugh again at their eagerness. They’ve been waiting for the reveal and can’t wait to see what CHOSO is capable of. You power him on and connect him and just as you said, within twenty seconds he knew exactly what you needed to be fucked properly.

Without saying a word, Choso stood towering over you with hooded eyes. It felt like time stopped with the way you froze waiting for him to do something. Everyone was anticipating what he would do, the tension was thick and had you clenching your thighs.

In a split second, he grabbed you by your neck and spun you around with your back touching his front. His grip was firm, blunt fingernails grazing the sides of your neck as he held you. He locked eyes with you on camera before ripping your lingerie in half. The frail material tearing to reveal your pretty skin, your breast spilling out with a bounce, your slit coming into the view for your viewers.

He tilts your head back with his fingers sliding to your jaw, the hold making it go slack allowing him to maneuver it until your lips are parting. His lips pucker and soon after his spit is falling into your pried open jaw, he doesn’t let you close your mouth yet, instead three of his thick fingers are pushed in fucking his spit down your throat. They were so deep that your gurgles and gags were the only thing heard through the screen. His void eyes watch how your wet mouth takes his fingers in, an unnoticeable smirk forming on his lips before he abruptly pulled them out.

You’re panting with saliva leaking from the corners of your mouth, your eyes unfocused and body loose willing to bend to any position Choso has planned for you. Your knees hit the floor before you can register that you are sinking, his large dick coming into eye level with you. You’re positioned so that they can see what is about to happen.

“Open,” for the first time, he speaks. His voice caught everyone off guard making the comments blow up again. They were so excited you never got to explain just how life like Choso was, he was practically human. He guides himself into your mouth, it isn’t nice, it isn’t gentle, he’s nasty.

His hands are on either side of your head and just as quick as he pushes in, he is pulling out. A brutal pace being set, bubbles of spit popping from the corners of your mouth from the heavy thrusts he’s giving you. His tip is abusing the back of your throat so good your eyes are rolling back and your hands are clawing at his thighs trying to steady yourself. His void eyes are looking down at you, his balls slap against your chin with every insert back into the depths of your warm cavern. His thrust slows and he pulls out of your mouth showing the thick slob connecting his dick to your tongue, chimes from tips ring loudly upon seeing that. He’s making a mess of you, and he’s barely even started yet.

His hand wraps around his coated member and taps it against your muscle, it’s slippery. He circles his tip from your tongue to your lips. The motion is slow, deliberate and makes your pussy leak. He doesn’t warn you, all you feel is your head snatched back onto him. He holds you there, not thrusting, not bobbing your head, just stretching your throat out on his heavy dick. He’s long and girthy, perfect for fucking your walls in. He’s barely touched your body and you can feel your slick running down your thighs.

Tears start to leak from your eyes and that’s when Choso pulls you off his dick. He leans down and places a long lick on your cheek catching the tears. His tongue starts from your chin and ends at the side of your eye. A sweet kiss being left there makes your heart jump. He’s messing with your head and bad. Using you like a slut then treating you gently.

You love it.

He helps you to your feet and you take a second to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. A wobbly smile being thrown to the camera before Choso is sitting in a chair with you on top of him. He lifts you so that your torso is little further over his shoulder, your pussy is on display to your viewers. You feel his hands grab your ass cheeks and jiggle them making your folds open and close, your glistening pussy being flashed teasing them.

You hiss at a pressured swipe of his finger passing over your hole and stopping at your clit. The pressure has you whining and squirming but he doesn’t let up and rubs at your clit more. Your viewers are watching intently as your core gets exposed to them.

The stinging on your ass cheek makes you jump, an unexpected sharp slap landing. They’re heavy and loud, not giving your brain time to differentiate between where you were being hit. Your cries are cut off with a hoarse moan when two fingers sink inside of you. Unlike to how he roughly fucked your throat, his fingers massage your insides. They’re curling and rubbing the inside of your walls so well it’s tickling your brain.

“Ngghhh! Choso, I’m going to cum!” Your whines reach his ears making him scoff.

“Only on my dick.” His arms hook under your knees as he stands with your arms loosely around his neck. Your eyes go cross from the stretch, your pussy opening with convulsions. Choked whimpers pick up on the mic making the viewers stuck between wishing they were either you or Choso when they see him rise to his feet with you in his arms. His strength keeping you from falling out his hold.

His glistening dick is seen pulling almost fully out of you before he swings your hips to meet his. The plopping of your bodies echos perfectly with the squelching of your slick walls, the uncontrollable moans slipping pass your lips, Choso’s raspy grunts, the hypnotizing view of the strong sex doll fucking you while holding you up off the ground. Your head tilted back with your jaw dropped from how good he felt inside of you. Being denied earlier only made the pleasure better, your whole system felt overwhelmed with ecstasy.

“Choso….Choso please…”

“Go ahead. Be a good slut and cum on my dick.” Your arms tighten around his neck and your hips hump up and down chasing the building release. Tears are running down your cheek again, but that’s not the wetness anyone is focused on. It’s the sound of droplets hitting the floor and the wetness spraying on Choso from your cunt that has everyone’s attention.

It takes a moment for your ears to stop wringing and your vision to return from white. Choso gently sits you back at the edge of the bed and returns to the chair you originally had him placed.

“Are you satisfied?” He prompted while looking forward.

“Y-yes. Power…power off.” You are still trying to catch your breath while instructing him. Your attention returns to the chat after a moment.

“Please look forward to the upcoming release of CHOSO. I don’t think I’ve been fucked like that in a while. Join me next week again on Puppet Master. Thank you for watching! Until then, my lustful loves!” You blow a kiss to the viewers and end the stream.

You turn to look at Choso and your body sinks to your knees. Your bright eyes turn dark as your limbs stiffen. Choso rises from his seat and stretches before walking to stand over you. His fingers wrap around your chin turning your head side to side examining you.

“It’s a reason you’re my favorite puppet. Always making me so much money.” He roughly lets go of your chin and walks away into the bathroom to clean himself.

No one needed to know that the actual sex dolls were the hundreds of girls on the site created and ran by him. No one needed to know that the C.H.O.S.O doll being released was modeled after the true creator.

They never needed to know the secrets of the real Puppet Master.

✨

Thoughts of a Slutty Virgin~🧚🏾‍♀️

Okaaay!! That's the final fic for my first Spooktober🥳👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

It's late, what's new, anyways ENJOY!!

Pixie's Masterlist

Taglist: @444ghosty @un-lawliet @witchbybirth @tophamhat-kyo @nobianna

Taglist is back open if anyone is interested!

None of the images used are owned by me. Credit to original creators and owners. I think I need to start saying that💜

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso #choso smut #anime smut

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winchesterwild78 · 2 months ago

Text

On the Second Day of Christmas

Master List

Characters: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Warnings: Language-because Ben, fluff

A/N: Day 2 of my holiday fics. I hope you enjoy this short series. I’m really excited about it. All work is my own, please don’t take it. Reblogs and likes are welcomed.

I do not own the rights to the characters I use, these will not follow the story lines of the series the character appeared in. This is a work of fiction.

Minors DNI 18+

“Shit! Stupid lights. Why do we need these lights anyway?” Ben grumbled from the floor where he was sitting trying to untangle the Christmas lights. “They will go on the tree and we are going to put them around the windows.” I replied as Ben rolled his eyes.

“Can’t we hire someone to do this? I walked over to him and sat next to him, placing my hand on his chest, “No, Ben. This is part of the Christmas magic. Decorating together and spending time together.”

“I can think of other ways to spend time together and make some magic.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Later” I said as I stood back up. He let out a long growl.

I laughed as I walked into the kitchen to check on dinner. “Dinner will be ready in about 15 minutes, babe.” I said from the kitchen.

I continued to finish cooking, listening to Ben grumble and cuss his way through untangling the lights. “Did you put these away like this? How the hell do they get tangled in a box?!”

I giggled from the kitchen. Then I felt strong arms around me. “What’s so funny, doll?” I leaned back against his solid frame, “you are”.

He huffed, “I hate all this crap, you know that, right?” I turned and looked at Ben, sighing. “You hate what, Ben? Christmas?”

Ben looked slightly ashamed and nodded. I knew he had a hard life before we met. He was technically old enough to be my grandfather, but he looked like he was in his 40s.

I fell in love with him from the moment I saw him. Even though he was an ass when we met.

*Flashback*

“Annie, what’s so important you can’t tell me over the phone? Why do I have to..” I ran right into something solid as I turned the corner, well someone. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I..” My head went blank looking into the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen.

“Y/N, you there? Hey! Are you okay?” Annie was yelling into the phone. “Oh um, yeah. I’ll call you back.” Then I hung up.

“Sir, I am so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you hurt?” The gorgeous man in front of me chuckled, “No, I’m good,doll, why don’t we go back to your place and you can make it up to me?”

I was speechless, “Excuse me? What kind of person talks to someone like that?” My body was on fire. A mixture of anger from what he said, and arousal from the way his body felt when I ran into him. This man was a god among men. I’d never seen someone so gorgeous.

“I do, so what do you say? Let’s get out of here and you can make it up to me.” I scoffed, but part of me was screaming to just take him right there. What the hell is happening to me?!

I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest. I knew I needed to get away from him or I’d do something I’d regret later. “I’m sorry I ran into you, but I need to go.”

I walked away quickly, but my mind was still there with him, thinking about all the things I’d let him do to me and I’d do to him.

Arriving at the loft a few minutes later I was greeted by a panicked Annie and Huey. “Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay? It sounded like you got hurt.” “No, I’m fine. I accidentally ran into someone on the street and I was trying to apologize. Annie, he was, wow. Um, yeah. Unfortunately it turns out he was just like every other man, a complete and utter dick.”

“Wouldn’t be talking about me now would ya, love?” Butcher walked in and grinned at me. I smiled and walked over, giving him a hug, “Of course not. How are you Butcher? I’ve missed you.”

“Oi, I’ve missed you too, love. So, how is what’s his name?” “Jake, I guess he’s fine. We broke up about a month ago. I caught him in bed with his secretary. That’s okay, now I can finally be with you.” I chuckled and kissed his cheek.

“His loss, and love, I don’t think I could keep up with you.” Butcher laughed. “I bet I could.” A voice from the doorway cut through the laughter. My head spun around and there he was, the green eyed mystery man.

My mouth opened and on the floor looking at him. Did he follow me? What the hell is he doing here? Before I could say a word, Butcher was talking to him.

“Oi, you leave her alone, Soldier Boy. You hear me?!” I looked at Butcher, still in shock. “Wait, you’re Soldier Boy?” I asked. “In the flesh, doll.” He flashed a smile at me that made me weak in the knees.

Annie stepped to my side, “This is what I was calling about. They (she pointed to the group) found him and let him out.”

My eyes locked on his. I couldn’t move or look away. Shit! Don’t do this. This man is a supe and he’s dangerous. But god does he look good. I bet every part of him is amazing. I instinctively bit my lip. He smirked.

Annie grabbed my hand and pulled me into an office. “Y/N, snap out of it. What’s gotten into you?” “He’s the guy I ran into on the street. Oh shit, Annie.” “It’s okay, I’m here if he starts anything with you.” I nodded, but the problem was, I wanted him to start something with me that hopefully led us back to my place. What the hell was happening. I just met him and I was ready to jump in bed with him.

*End of Flashback*

It didn’t take long before Ben and I were together. Less than a day to be exact. Butcher was less than pleased, but somehow Ben convinced him to not kill him. We’ve been together ever since.

When dinner was ready Ben and I sat at the table eating almost in silence. His confession about hating Christmas made my heart fill with sadness and I could tell it brought up some buried memories for him.

I had already decorated the table and I noticed Ben kept touching the Santa and Mrs. Claus salt and pepper shakers I had put in the center of the table.

The silence between us was deafening. I had no idea he disliked Christmas. It made me sad to see him so upset and withdrawn, and conflicted because this was my favorite time of year.

Unlike Ben, I have fond memories of Christmas as a child. My mother always made it special. No matter what. We baked cookies together, decorated the house, visited Santa, wrote him letters, went caroling, watched Christmas movies, and we always opened one gift on Christmas Eve.

When she passed away, I felt I was honoring her by carrying on her Christmas traditions. It was my way of keeping her with me. Now with Ben in my life, I was looking forward to sharing the traditions with him, and maybe making new ones.

With the new realization that Ben disliked the holidays, my heart broke. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or push him, so I decided to just stop the rest of the decorating. What I had out this year would have to be enough.

A tear fell from my eyes. I didn’t even know it was there. Ben looked up and saw me. His green eyes were full of sadness and regret. “Y/N, please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry Ben. I was just thinking about my mother.” I quickly wiped my tears away. It wasn’t a complete lie, I was thinking about her, but my heart ached more for him than anything.

We finished dinner and I cleaned the kitchen. Ben went out on the porch to smoke a joint. I had told him early on I didn’t care if he smoked, but he had to do it outside. Once he moved in with me, he tried to argue it was his house too, but I stood firm.

After I cleaned up, I walked into the living room and saw the Christmas decorations and lights in piles on the floor. I carefully picked them all up and placed them back in the totes.

Ben’s POV:

Running my hands through my hair while smoking my joint I sighed. Shit! I made her cry. I know she loves Christmas. Why can’t I man up and give her something she wants. Fuck! Looking up I saw her in the kitchen cleaning up. Her expression is soft yet sad. God I love her so much.

I noticed her in the living room cleaning up the decorations. I stepped to the side to see her packing everything back up. So this is what true selfless love looks like. She loves Christmas, but is willing to put that aside for me. Wow! What a woman. She deserves so much more than me.

Reader’s POV

I finished cleaning up the living room and started to carry the totes back to the storage closet. My heart broke with every step I took, but I was doing this for Ben. I loved him more than any decoration I had. He was worth more to me than a snowglobe or twinkle lights.

The rest of the night was spent almost in silence. Neither one of us knew how to start the conversation we needed to have. We sat on opposite ends of the couch while watching tv. I couldn’t tell you what was on, because my mind was elsewhere. I’m sure Ben was the same way.

As the night and the silence stretched on I was exhausted. Both mentally and physically. I stood to go take a shower.

“I’m going to shower, Ben. Then I’m going to head to bed. I love you, and I’m sorry.” Ben’s gaze met mine, and he stood pulling me close to him.

“No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I need to learn to deal with crap from my past. I’m sorry I can’t be the man you deserve. I love you.”

I placed my hand on his chest, “Ben, you’re more than enough for me. I don’t want anyone else but you. I don’t care about twinkle lights. If I have to choose between decorations and you, I’d choose you every single time.”

His breath hitched, “No one has ever chosen me.” I reached up and touched his cheek, “Then they didn’t love you.” He pulled me flush to him and kissed me.

The pain, the silence, the anguish, all disappeared when our lips met. My hands tangled in his hair, and his in mine.

We made our way to our bedroom and made love for most of the night. Ben was so gentle with me in bed. A stark contrast to how he presented himself to the world.

As I drifted off to sleep in his arms, I thought about how incredibly lucky I was to see a side of him most people never got to see. The soft, caring, vulnerable Ben. The one I was head over heels in love with.

The next morning I woke up to the smell of bacon. I stretched and smiled, knowing Ben was making breakfast. He usually made breakfast as his way of apologizing for being an ass. I truly didn’t mind.

Walking out of the bedroom I gasped. I looked around and the whole house was decorated. There was a tree up, covered in twinkle lights and ornaments, all of my other decorations, placed around the house. From the kitchen I heard the sounds of Christmas music playing.

Ben looked up with a smile on his face. “What do you think, sweetheart?” I smiled as tears fell. “Oh, Ben, it’s beautiful. But you didn’t have to do this. I know how you feel.” Ben took my hands in his, “Yes I did. It’s important to you, so it’s important to me. Besides, maybe we can come up with some new traditions together. Since I’ve been back I’ve let go of some of my past because of you, letting go of my issues with Christmas is something I’m willing to give up for you.”

“Oh Ben, I love you. Merry Christmas.” “I love you too, doll. Merry Christmas to you too.”

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.

Tags:

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573

@k-slla @jackles010378

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

@roseblue373 @cheynovak

@jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

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@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

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@superrey @kamisobsessed

@obliviousap @ninii-winchester

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @whimsyfinny

@bobbdylan @star-yawnznn

@reignsboy19 @monkey-d-hoshizora98

@depressionbarbie2023 @livingdeadblondequeen

@mandee7 @barnes70stark

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #soldier boy x plus size reader #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader

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firelxdykatara · 3 months ago

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Why wasn’t Katara at the trial where Unalaq accused Tonraq, Senna & co of treason? The trial happened in her home. Doesn’t she care that the Chief of her tribe is being threatened with the death sentence? You’re telling me that Asami and Bolin care more about the future of the SWT than Katara?

The fact that Katara is not so much as mentioned in either episode of the Civil Wars two-parter is so flagrantly egregious that I actually had to double check the transcripts because I was sure that it couldn't have been that bad. But oh boy was I wrong. (Katara's name is mentioned once in the summary of the episode, notably as a reference that isn't actually part of the episode's plot because she isn't fucking there, does not appear in either transcript, and there is one 'mention' in the second episode where Kya shows a photograph to her brothers, saying she got it from 'mom'. Notably, the photo is used to 'prove' that their family was a happy one despite their griping and irate reminiscing, even though all actual evidence seems to indicate the opposite lmao)

The serious and genuine answer is that it's the same reason Katara wasn't at Yakone's bloodbending trial, despite ostensibly being the person who single-handedly saw to it that bloodbending was outlawed (over which Yakone carried a serious grudge!) and being the person best equipped to subdue him if something went wrong (which it did). It's also the same reason Katara wasn't allowed to attend her own granddaughter's Air Master ceremony, despite this being the most significant milestone of every airbender's life. It's the same reason why Katara wasn't allowed to talk about her own life or achievements, even when trying to connect with and help the Avatar or her own children--no, she was always talking about Aang, what he achieved, his legacy.

It's also the same reason that Korra asked Zuko for insight, telling him that he knew Aang better than anyone, despite having been raised and trained by Aang's fucking wife!

And that reason is that Bryke just did not give two shits about her as a character. They didn't care enough to establish her in old age as anything but a sad old woman missing her husband and having sad distance from her children. Zuko and Toph got to have a few scenes to shine, and even Sokka got to be at Yakone's trial in the same flashback where Katara was conspicuously absent--not to mention all three of them got statues commemorating their achievements, and recognition from the cast as being famous and cool (but oh no, not Katara!). In fact, the only member of the gaang who had less presence in the series was Suki, and that's because she doesn't show up at all after the opening art in the very first episode. (Which, arguably, is better than what Katara got; at least this way, there's nothing in canon saying Suki had her entire personality surgically removed and replaced with Wife and Mother and Nothing Else.)

It's egregious and infuriating and I hate hate hate all the excuses that keep cropping up ("She's so old!!!" yeah, so are Toph and Zuko, they still got to kick some ass and protect their families; "LoK isn't about the Gaang!!!!" yeah well AtLA wasn't about the White Lotus either but those old ass men were able to kick ass and take names and help to set the world to rights! one of whom was OVER A CENTURY OLD SHUT UP ABOUT HOW OLD KATARA IS; "She wanted to settle down after the war!!!" ok well there's no amount of 'settling down' that will convince me Katara would sit by, at any age, and let her people tear themselves apart, or let her entire family be slaughtered, without lifting a finger, and while there's nothing wrong with healing we see very clearly in the original series that this was not Katara's passion! SHE LOVED COMBAT BENDING SHE HAD FUN WITH IT!!!!) because all they really say to me is that so many fans are happy to bend over backwards to respect Bryke's muddy fucking vision, and I simply refuse.

Where's that post where it has the screencap of Pakku telling Katara to go back to the healing huts and then cutting to LoK of Katara doing just that? Cause that's basically the essence of the beast here lmao.

#katara #atla #lok salt #im still so salty about this i could go on for ages #it makes me SO mad and there was no reason for it?????#long post #Anonymous #asked

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fawninthesnow · 22 days ago

Text

𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝 & 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝: Pt 4, Slip & Fall

Series: 1, 2, 3

𐙚 Lucius Verus x fem character! 𐙚

Summary: Former Gladiator, Emperor Lucius, takes his rightful property-- the wife of his conquered enemy.

Warnings/Contains: fem character, slow burn, f4m, accidental injury, mentions of blood, no proofreading-- english is not my first language

a/n: slowburn warning!

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

“I am quite warm…” She whispered into his ear. “Do you want me now, emperor?”

“I want…sex.”

She looked away for a moment; his ownership over her was undeniable. As hard as she tried to deny it, she was physically attracted to him. “I can please you.” She whispered again into his ear; her fingers play in his soft hair. “I will do anything you ask of me.” He moaned back to her, her scent filling his nostrils. “You sound so pretty…” He caught his breath and stumbled as he attempted to lift off the lectus. Lucius nodded before standing. The man tossed out the wine into a fountain then tossed his glass towards the bushes.

He growled in anger at himself, pushing a hand through his hair. “You may rest in bed. I will return soon.”

“Where are you going?” She held her gown closed.

He shut his eyes as he spoke, holding up his hand to keep her silent. “Please, do not come closer. I will be back.” The drunken emperor left her in his chambers alone. The woman lay on her back under the covers, admiring the stucco on the ceiling and the bronze panels.

From the hall, the door to the emperor’s chambers pushed open and a blonde-haired boy appeared. She tilted her head and remained quiet as his monkey sat on his shoulder. The young woman rose from bed and silently moved up behind him as he went through gift boxes of imported chocolate, incenses, and canisters of tobacco. “Hey!” She said with a huff. The boy yelped before hissing at her. His monkey held onto his neck, hiding in the boy’s toga. “What are you doing? For the second time.”

“Oh, you again. Lady Blue, calm down, I’m just looking for something.”

“I don’t believe you’re allowed to do so.”

“I do what I want! I am royal blood!”

“You are the emperor’s son…?”

The boy laughs aloud, “Says who?! No! I am his brother!”

“I didn’t know he had a brother. He didn’t mention it.”

The boy continued to search through his ‘brother’s’ belongings. “Well, that is what they call us. I think it’s because my father sat on the throne and now Lucius is emperor. I don’t know, you’re asking me hard questions. I am only twelve.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Lord Gallus!”

She follows him around the room as he collects expensive daggers. Her eyebrows furrowed as the boy pretended to duel with someone in the middle of the room. “Who…was your father?”

“I am Lord Gallus! Son of the great Emperor Geta!” He called out proudly, holding up his blade towards the ceiling. She stepped from the child, “…but he was killed in the riots- revolution, Lucius told me. I was only four apparently.”

“You were four? A son?” She said softly, moving in front of him to get his attention. “Please, listen, do you have a mother?”

He flicked her in the middle of the forehead, making her stand up straight in shock. “You are a silly woman, Lady blue. Everything has a mother, tsk.”

“Did you…did you just flick me?” He flicked her on the forehead again, “Stop that! Who is your mother?”

“Why do you want to know?” The boy laughed, continuing his duel with the sword and invisible man, running out of the room and down the hall. She chased after him, down and up each hall of the palace, “Lady blue, let us duel!” He turned around and pointed his blade at her. “Haha!”

“No, let us not.” He shrugged, “Your mother?”

“Father called her Nalani in his writings, sometimes Narcissa as a joke.”

“Writings? Where are your father’s writings?” She asked, trying to keep up with the running boy.

“How should I know? My brother keeps them somewhere.”

“Thank you, Gallus!” She called out as he ran into the courtyard. “What is he even doing awake?” She asked a guard. The man shrugged.

The next morning, the young woman watched as her servant fed her daughter small bits of food at a time. The emperor said nothing as they sat across from each other. “Gallus is quite the boy.” The young woman hid behind the warmth of her hair, eating slowly.

“You’ve met him? Yes, he is.” Before she could say another word, the emperor cleared his throat, “If you would excuse me, I need to lay down.” She watched as he left the dining hall.

“What is your name?” She asked the servant who fed her child.

“M- my name? Fl- flora.”

“That is a beautiful name. Can I trust you to look after my daughter for the afternoon?”

The woman nodded excitedly, “Of course, Lady Blue.”

She tilted her head but had no time to address the name. Down the halls, she peeked into rooms, searching for Lucius. There was a dullness throughout the palace. Something was in the air. It was thick, like a musk off a man. As she attempted to leave the next bedroom, from the other side, the emperor swung the next door open, the steel lining striking the woman squarely on the forehead. “[]!” Her hands went to her own face, gently rubbing her cold fingers over her now bleeding wound. The man took her in his arms, and turned to a nearby guard, “Please, a wet towel.” He pressed two fingers over the bridge of her nose, warm blood seeped down.

He guided her to the nearest bench and wiped away the blood on her face with the towel. “I feel quite alright.” The young woman said as she rested in his lap. Her palm on his knee and the other holding up her body to keep weight off him.

He merely shook his head and continued to tend to the young woman. “You could have split something.” The emperor said softly. Her brown eyes met his blue ones, and it was then her face grew warm. Sweat slipped down her sides from her pits and down her spine. Something she had ignored, rather, was in denial of was her fear of the man. Something about his eyes, maybe it was the shade, but they seemed to never end. Maybe it was because the details of colors, they were endless. Specs of yellow, a faint green, even a dash of brown around his irises.

Every feeling, every movement felt intense; her flesh felt like more than when under his gaze. A lift of a finger, and a buck of her hips all felt the same. His gaze was intimate, maybe too much so. “It was not your fault.” She said, touching her wound.

“I appreciate that but allow me to take responsibility.” His fingers overlapped hers, mocking her delicate strokes. “Should I touch you this way, my lady?” She swallowed the pool of saliva in her mouth. The sweat from her palms made it impossible to stay up on her arm, settling her weight on his thighs. “Does that feel alright?” The emperor asked.

I have my child to think about. She rose from his lap, “I will be well. You worry too much.” The woman murmured, more or so to herself. With a linen tie from her hips, she wrapped the wound around her head. “Where were you headed?”

She turned around, adjusting the tie for her hair. The emperor watched her walk from him, “And all of a sudden you care?” He teased although distracted by the thought of her in pain. “A- a senate meeting.”

“Oh, really?”

“And you?”

“I- I,” She turned back to him, “Looking for you!”

“…well, unfortunately, you found me. What is it on your little mind?” She could only ignore the slight condescending tone in his voice and think over how she would ask him the questions that weighed so heavily on her mind.

Part 5 coming this weekend! This serves as a filler, I swear the next will be longer lol.y

Series: 1, 2, 3,

I update faster on my AO3!

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

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jedineedlove · 4 months ago

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LMK VS Legend: Li Jing, Nezha, & Family

Finally thought I would do this with the debut of Li Jing and Nezha's more frequent appearances. These two needed their page.Li JIng I could not find much so I made it a family page.

Legend:

Li Jing is renowned throughout the Shang dynasty as a high-ranking commander officer of the Old Pond Pass. Throughout his past, Li Jing studied under Mount Kunlun and soon became a master of exceedingly fast underground travel. His wife is Lady Yin, and he has three sons.

His Wife:

Lady Yin: She played a prominent role in the nurture of Nezha. According to legend, she is said to be the incarnation of the second daughter of the Jade Emperor. Her full name is Yin Wuming in the Fengshen Yanyi, and it is called Lady Yin in the Ming dynasty religious book The Collection of Gods in Three Religions

His Sons:

Jinzha: A disciple of the superiorman Wenshu Guangfa Tianzun. Originally, Jinzha was one of the Five Great Wisdom Kings in Tibetan Buddhism, also known as Kuṇḍali or sometimes as the Ganlu Mingwang (甘��王), who was responsible for longevity, healing, purification, and exorcism. However, due to potential influences from folk literature, the name "軍吒" (Junzha or Junzhalili) was changed to "金吒" (Jinzha) to align with the character "木吒" (Muzha). In folk temple festivals, Jinzha is often referred to as the "Great Crown Prince of Tuotuo Tianwang" and is worshipped in temples along the southern coastal regions.

Muzha: He is a disciple of the Bodhisattvas Samantabhadra and Guanyin. Muzha is worshipped as a deity in Chinese folk religion, known as Muzha Tianzun.

Nezha: He is a protection deity in Chinese Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism, and Chinese folk religion. His official Taoist name is "Marshal of the Central Altar" (中壇元帥). He was then given the title "Third Lotus Prince" (蓮花三太子) after he became a deity.

Story:

Nezha's mother, Lady Yin, gave birth to a ball of flesh after gestating for three years and six months. Li Jing thought his wife had given birth to a demon and attacked the ball with his sword.

Li Jing and Nezha's relationship began as rocky because Nezha is disobedient and short-tempered. Nezha would cause untold chaos and trouble in the future, such as that with the Eastern Sea Dragon King Ao Guang. Nezha kills the Dragon King's son and gains his wrath.

When Nezha was seven years old, he became sick of the summer heat, and decided to take a bath in the nearby Jiuwan Stream, using his Red Armillary Sash (混天绫) as a towel. It sent tremors through the water, shaking the East Sea Dragon King, Ao Guang's undersea palace.

A Yaksha, Li Gen, was sent to investigate the disturbance. Nezha insulted him, causing him to attack Nezha and being killed by his Universal Ring (乾坤圈). The Dragon King's soldiers reported Li Gen's death to him, and Ao Bing, his third son, volunteered to deal with Nezha. Nezha slew him in combat, then pulled out his tendons to make a belt for Li Jing.

When Ao Guang learned of his son's death, he transformed into a human scholar and went to Li Jing's residence to protest. Nezha admitted to killing Ao Bing and returned his tendons to Ao Guang, who told Li Jing he would file a complaint to the Jade Emperor.

Facing his parents' wrath, Nezha went to Taiyi Zhenren for help. He drew an invisibility talisman on Nezha and told him to ambush Ao Guang under the Heavenly Gate.

Nezha beat the Dragon King forcing him to turn into a small snake and returned to Chentang Pass with him.

Upon arrival, Ao Guang transformed back into his human form, proclaiming he would gather the other Dragon Kings of the Four Seas and report the Li family to the Jade Emperor.

Lady Yin then sent Nezha into the back garden. He climbed up the barbican, where he came across the Universal Bow (乾坤弓) and Sky Shaking Arrows (震天箭) of the Yellow Emperor, sitting on a weapon rack. Eager for some archery practice, he lifted the bow and shot an arrow into the air, which flew all the way to White Bone Cave and killed the Verdant Cloud Boy (碧云童子), an acolyte of Lady Shiji (石矶娘娘). Because Li Jing had carved his name onto the arrow, Shiji went to Chentang Pass, seized him, and took him back to her abode.

Li Jing explained to her that no one had been strong enough to lift the Yellow Emperor's bow since it was placed in Chentang Pass, and she allowed him to return to the pass to find the real culprit. When he learned that Nezha was responsible, he took his son back to the White Bone Cave to answer to Shiji. Nezha attacked her other acolyte and tried to fight Shiji, but had both of his weapons taken away, forcing him to flee to his master's abode. Taiyi Zhenren killed Shiji with the flames of the Nine Dragon Divine Bell Cover (九龙神火罩), reducing her to her true form: a rock.

Nezha was then informed that the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas, with the permission of the Jade Emperor, had come for his parents. Due to Nezha causing trouble in the Eastern Sea Dragon's Kingdom, Li Jing was required to give his life to Ao Guang if he did not sacrifice Nezha. But Nezha sacrificed himself, handing over his flesh to his parents.

Nezha then appeared in his mother's dream. In the dream, he asked her to build a temple for him, so that his soul would have a place to rest. His mother then secretly built a temple for Nezha, and this temple later flourished. This temple became well-known and grew vastly because Nezha granted miracle cures to the sick and the crippled.

Following the bitter luck attained with his third son, Li Jing burned the sacrificial temple, Lady Yin would be scolded by Li Jing profusely following this point.

However, due to the temple burning, this made Nezha wish to kill his father.

After Nezha was reincarnated, his body remade by his master Taiyi Zhenren, his father saw him and said, "You vermin! When you were my child, you caused untold calamities. Why do you reincarnate and disturb the peace?" Thus, a major conflict between Li Jing and Nezha began to unfold.

After battling Nezha, Li Jing soon realized that his mortal body did not match 1 to 100 compared to that of Nezha's. Thus, he ran as fast as he could underground in a state of incredible fear for his life.

Luckily, Li Jing happened to run into his second son, Muzha. Following Muzha's defeat by Nezha's hands, Li Jing tried to commit suicide. Wenshu Guangfa Tianzun ( a disciple of Yuanshi Tianzun and one of the Three Great Immortals, holding the fifth position among the Twelve Golden Immortals.) saved Li Jing's life and containing Nezha. Nezha was then forced to submit to his father after being restrained by another superiorman by the name of Randeng Daoren (renowned as the Superiorman of Mount Condor, Intuition Cave.)

[In popular culture, Nezha's killing of Li Gen and Ao Bing is often seen as a result of Ao Guang demanding young boys and girls from Chentang Pass as sacrifices. When the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas threatened to flood Chentang Pass in retaliation, Nezha committed suicide to save his family and the people. That plot is only found in the 1979 Shanghai Animation Film Studio movie, Nezha Conquers the Dragon King, and not in the Fengshen Yanyi novel or Qing dynasty opera adaptations.]

JTTW:

In Journey to the West, Nezha was a general under his father, "Pagoda-wielding Heavenly King" Li Jing. He fought the Monkey King, Sun Wukong, when the latter rebelled against the Jade Emperor.

They later became friends. Nezha made some appearances in the novel to help the four protagonists defeat powerful demons including his adoptive sister, Lady Earth Flow.

His origin story is different from the other legends. After he caused havoc in the Eastern Ocean, the Heavenly King had been so worried about the disastrous consequences that he decided to kill Nezha. Thus Nezha returned his flesh and blood to his mother and bones to his father. Then Nezha's soul went to the Buddha, who resurrected him. After, he used his vast powers to subdue 96 caves of demons through dharma. After this Nezha wanted to kill his father because he had to remove every piece of flesh and every stain of blood to return his bones to his father. The heavenly king had no choice but to seek help from the Buddha. The Buddha gave him an intricately made golden pagoda, in each story of which were Buddhas radiant with splendor. The Buddha told Nezha to regard these Buddhas as his father, thus ending the hatred between the father and the son and Li Jing earned the title of Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King.

In the JTTW Li Jing and Nezha gain another family member Lady Earth Flow.

Lady Earth Flow (地涌夫人) is a yaoguai who is actually a Golden-Nosed Albino Rat Spirit (金鼻白毛老鼠精) who obtained her powers after practising Taoist arts for 300 years and secretly consuming sacred candles at Vulture Peak. After she was captured by Li Jing and Nezha, she was supposed to be executed but the Buddha told them to spare her life. She was so grateful that she acknowledged Li Jing as her godfather and Nezha as her godbrother. Later, she moved to the Bottomless Pit (無底洞) at Flaming Air Mountain (焰空山) and armed herself with a pair of swords. When the protagonists pass by Black Pines Forest (黑松林), she disguises herself as a damsel in distress to attract Tang Sanzang's attention. Tang Sanzang takes pity on her and lets her accompany them to a nearby temple, but Sun Wukong sees through her guise. She eats six monks in the temple and captures Tang Sanzang when Sun Wukong and the others are distracted. Sun Wukong finds out her true identity later and brings Li Jing and Nezha to subdue her and take her back

[According to The Journey to the West, Nezha was born with the word Ne written on the palm of his left hand and zha on his right, hence his name.]

[In Journey to the West, Muzha became a disciple of Guanyin in the heavenly court, with the legal name Hui An. When he was ordered to conquer the sand demon, and later Sun Wukong lost to the Red Boy, Hui An borrowed 36 Tian Gang swords from his father Li Jing to help the Guanyin Bodhisattva conquer the Red Boy, making him a good boy under the Guanyin.]

LMK:

Ji Ling:

After the Brotherhood, Li Jing was assigned the responsibility of overseeing the Celestial Realm with the Jade Emperor gone. The universe was teetering on the brink of destruction due to the damage caused to the Pillar of Heaven by the Jade Emperor's demise.

Li Jing harbored concerns that Monkey King's actions could exacerbate the impending destruction of the universe.Monkey King challenged Li Jing, asserting that he couldn't be stopped, not even by the Celestial Pagoda. While Li Jing acknowledged the truth in Monkey King's claim, he swiftly subdued him by placing a circlet on his head. Ne Zha tried to intervene on their behalf, but Li Jing swiftly silenced him, putting an end to any further discussion.

After breaking out of prison, MK, Monkey King, and Macaque returned Megapolis where Li Jing caught up to them. Li Jing swiftly closed in on Monkey King, tightening the circlet around his head. Macaque intervened by teleporting both MK and Monkey King to safety inside the Team Power Truck. As they made their escape, Macaque was eventually overpowered by Li Jing, who imprisoned him in the Celestial Pagoda.

In Harbinger; Li Jing and Ne Zha met up with the Monkie Kids and Monkey King, where Li Jing believed that the Pillar of Heaven was now irreparable, leading them all to confront the reality of the universe's impending destruction as the Great Cycle approached its end. As Li Jing looked at Ne Zha, he felt a mix of pride and regret for not having more time to share with him.

When the World was saved; After some time, Li Jing saw Ne Zha leading the Celestial Warriors in the rebuilding of the Celestial Realm, and made him smile in approval.

Nezha:

Ne Zha is a heavenly deity from the Celestial Realm, serving as both a member of the Celestial Court and a guardian. A stern and responsible celestial. He is occasionally short-tempered, mostly in regards to the Monkey King, though is shown to be understanding and kind to MK. He is often seen being understandably exasperated and annoyed.

During the Monkey Kings attempt to reforge the Samadhi Fire to defeat Lady Bone Demon,Ne Zha tried to stop him too late due to Macaque's interference. Ne Zha discovered that Mei held one of the four fragments of the Samadhi Fire and teamed up with MK to prevent Monkey King from reaching Lady Bone Demon, but Monkey King was corrupted by her and defeated Ne Zha by encasing him in crystal. Ne Zha was eventually freed during the final battle with Lady Bone Demon and aided the Monkie Kids in destroying her.

Later, Red Son warned Ne Zha about the Brotherhood's plan to attack the Celestial Realm. Despite his best efforts, Ne Zha was overpowered and injured by the Brotherhood, seeking refuge on Flower Fruit Mountain with the Monkie Kids. After the final standoff with the Brotherhood, Ne Zha safeguarded the Power of the Jade Emperor in a seal and vowed to protect it.

During Season 5, he was a silent character till the end when he stopped his father from interfering with the Monkie Kids Crew.

Images :

Overley Sarcastic Productions.

https://www.viewofchina.com/nezha/

LMK Screen Shots

#lmk #jttw #chinese mythology #nezha lego monkie kid #nezha #li jing

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maxwell-grant · 10 months ago

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Thoughts on the master of fear, Scarecrow? Also, fave design, he has so many good ones (second BTAS, his trading card one, mistress of fear, Gaslight,, fear for sale, the Arkham Games etc)?

Hey so, do any of you remember Batman Live? It was this really fun, extravagant stage show that touched on a lot of Batman hallmarks and was generally a really fun time as far as I recall. I went to the São Paulo premiere with my family, and I was a little too young to really recall most of it now, but some things I definitely remember like the huge Joker hot air balloon made of performers in bodypaint, or the comedy sequences in the Iceberg Lounge. The one thing that stuck with me the most was when the Scarecrow showed up. Batman goes to Arkham Asylum and the entire comedy camp tone drops dead, as he walks in and finds all these bodies in straightjackets hanging from chains, and the doors open as The Scarecrow walks towards him in stilts, summoning loud smoke eruptions that are poisoning and weakening Batman as he leers over him. That part actually did scare me as a kid, and it was probably the first time I had any kind of feelings on Scarecrow imprinted in me.

I was introduced to The Scarecrow as this uniquely horrifying villain who could terrify through presentation alone. I didn't particularly understand what the fear gas was, I was too taken with that ungainly thing up there with the stilts and all those people turned into cadaverous decorations, lurking from the endless halls of the asylum, who towered over everyone and placed Batman into a writhing breakdown with a few gestures, and never appeared again until the cast roll, completely absent from the rogues gatherings after. Granted, of course that's because the stilts prevented him from joining the fight scenes, but that helped to reinforce his mystery. He wasn't someone Batman was going to punch back, no no, the Scarecrow simply vanished as soon as he was done with disarming Batman, and you'd just have to pray for that unfathomable creep to never show up again.

And I'd say this might be part of why I've never been too big on the fear gas, in part because I was first enraptured by a version of The Scarecrow who clearly didn't need it that much, or at least, could do much more besides it. The Scarecrow is, I'd say actually one of my top 10 DC characters, half of that on the basis of his designs, but he's a character who tends to really, really struggle under a lack of cohesion and being subordinate to his gimmick, much more so than the other rogues. The fear gas is a good gimmick, but it is just that, a gimmick, and one that's usually reliant on how far can the story push the horror and the visuals to at least make it effectively scary for us, otherwise it gets incredibly boring very fast, and it's not even a gimmick exclusive to him since so many other characters have similar mind control/illusion abilities/gadgetry at hand (and to say nothing of Hugo Strange, who first used fear gas and who quite frankly kicks the Scarecrow's ass in terms of quality storylines, although Hugo does that to most of the other Batman villains too)

The Scarecrow has become the go-to character for hallucination sequences / revisiting character traumas, which frequently makes him less of a character and more so a convenient plot device, a problem heightened by the larger issue here that is his inconsistent motivation, or lack thereof. He lacks the kind of "breakout" stories that his fellow major Batman villains have had that usually cement an ongoing characterization, and his most famous/celebrated appearences in mass media don't really do much to combat the assertion that he is shallow and weak and whose only asset is the gas (namely, his boss fights in Arkham Asylum, which are all about the fear gas hallucination scares, and his role in Nolan's Batman, which is very fun, but also purposefully plays him up for ridicule and lack of depth next to the other villains)

These days, the Scarecrow is a tedious pip-squeak. His schemes lack verve, his cruelties stir little in the way of frissons. Haunted by cliché to an even greater extent than the other rogues, he’s often brought low with a single sock to the jaw delivered by Batman, or by finding himself on the receiving end of his own fear-inducing concoctions. He often acts as a pawn in the hands of bigger, badder third parties. He’s ostensibly a stand-in for the figure of the reductive, smug and hypocritical psychologist, nicely bundled up for the audience to humiliate in effigy - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

In "Nothing to Fear" it is explained that Jonathan Crane has always had this "thing" for scaring people. (Just as Snidely Whiplash had his "thing" for tying women to railroad tracks, I suppose.) But this is a wan kind of motive. One senses sadly that the real motive for the Scarecrow's behavior lies in the writer's need for someone to do something reprehensible. At the root of the matter may be a difficulty in sorting out the Scarecrow's ends from his means, with a consequent confusion between the goals the Scarecrow intends to reach and the tactics he employs in reaching them.

As a psychologist specializing in phobic disorders, Crane knows how to induce fear and trembling in his victims. But this tells us nothing about what the Scarecrow wants to accomplish. And without a sense or statement of what those goals are, the writer will be tempted to substitute means for end and make the Scarecrow's goal simply the scaring of people. Usually his actions are woefully underexplained - Dreams in Darkness' review by Toonzone

You might think that I'd be advocating for the Scarecrow, then, to disregard a need for a motivation and become as unknowable and horrific as possible, to recapture the awe I felt at his Batman Live self, but no, not at all. For one, I don't think the best version of anything is necessarily the one that made the most impact on me as a kid. Two, there have been some attempts over the years to remove Scarecrow from the toxin or seriously amp him up as a threat, and frankly, most of those have only made the character dramatically worse and more boring (I don't remember the name, but there was a Batman story a while ago where he goes on a big scary killing spree with no toxin just to prove he can and it was fucking terrible). Three, and the big one here, is that this pretty much forces you to get rid of Dr. Jonathan Crane, and I think that does a disservice to the character's potential. I think that's giving up on trying to make him work as a character and I don't think you have to do that.

My preferred characterization for Crane is one that emphasizes his nature as a scholar turned supervillain. The cold and misanthropic and neurotic nerd professor who spent most of his salary on books and took to terrorizing the city as a costumed criminal in part because he wanted money to buy more books. Who takes off the costume mid-crime spree to school his henchmen on specifics of brain chemistry, who gets revenge on those that wrong his students or even employs them as henchmen, still the same guy who thinks there's nothing wrong with firing a loaded gun in a packed classroom as a demonstration. Far less interested in human connections than he is in human reactions, things that can surprise him or that he can catalogue or research or write about. Someone who's not a sadist for sadism's sake, but who doesn't really see you as a person so much as he sees a test subject. I like Crane as a snarky humorous heel who thinks of himself as amoral and mature while doing horribly immoral and childish things, the Herbert West or Rusty Venture of Batman villains (James Urbaniak is definitely the voice I'd pick for him).

My preferred kind of motivation for him is something along the lines of how he's portrayed in most of Kings of Fear, where he puts Batman through the wringer in part as an attempt to get to him and cure him once and for all, or issues #4-5 of The Batman Adventures where he induces city-wide illiteracy in part as a protest against the city's failing education. In Gothtopia he makes all of Gotham hallucinate their perfect ideal lives, eliminating the crime rate but causing the suicide rate to spike up in return, and yes it does turn out to be the set-up for a really generic "fear gas everyone with blimps and make everyone twice as scared" pay off when his involvement is revealed, but I always thought Scarecrow being able and willing to do that, to create these huge and even benevolent-seeming social experiments, as an idea with legs. Fear State was frustratingly halfway there, with the initial set-up of Scarecrow pursuing a theory for fear-based social upheaval, but on top of not being very good, it also wound up that he was just doing the same old thing again and had Batman call him out as someone who just wanted to gas the city and make everyone scared again and never changes and does anything different, which seemed like Tynion defeating his own purpose of trying to make a defining Scarecrow story and address his lack of one, completely failing to address the why the character has that kind of problem and upending itself for meta commentary before doing anything interesting.

Even Kings of Fear, easily the best Scarecrow story of the past decades if not outright ever, kinda ends in a bit of a cop-out where The Scarecrow has to be wrong ("Even when he's telling the truth, he's lying, and even when he's right, he's wrong", Gordon tells Batman to reassure him, to nullify the past 5 issues criticizing and tearing into Batman from every angle imaginable), and he has to be a sadist who just wanted to fuck with Batman and uncover his worst fears because it's what he does. Why does Scarecrow want to unravel people and wrench their worst fears into the surface? Because he's a sadist who gets off on it? I guess that's the canon answer most of the time, but it's such a boring, weak one. Because he wants revenge on the world / bullies? Still weak, done better by other villains even. Because of an unspeakably traumatic childhood that taught him the world was ruled by fear and therefore driving him to become it's master? Okay, but it still doesn't actually answer what he wants to get out of doing what he does.

We know that Jonathan Crane was a fragile youth routinely terrorized and abused by others and plainly traumatized by his experiences. We know that he is learned and brilliant and given to introspection and fantasy.

From this base it is not hard to imagine Crane turning into a man fiercely devoted to solitude and study and capable of a murderous rage when his privacy is violated. It is possible, in other words, to imagine him as a reactive force, in the mold of Freeze, systematically terrorizing and destroying anyone who crosses him but rarely wanting to start trouble himself.

Or we can imagine him as a mercenary, a specialist hired by others for nefarious purposes, but who is not himself strongly motivated by particular rages or desires.

But if the Scarecrow is going to remain a sadist and a sadist only—if he is going to be moved only by the psychotic desire to harm others—we ought to be made to feel the seductive power that sadism has over its practitioners; we should be made to feel and appreciate the hot and sour joy that comes from the purposeful humiliation of another - Dreams in Darkness review by Toonzone

It's kind of a frustrating pattern in a lot of his stories where he gives a reason for doing something, and it turns out to be a cover for yet another sadistic fear gas attack, but his cover reason was a more interesting motivation for him than what he actually was going for. A villain who mainly just gets a kick out of hurting people and concocts bullshit excuses and reasons to justify said hurting? The Joker does that already, but the Joker always clearly states what he wants and has all those ways to make cruelty for cruelty's sake entertaining. If that's all The Scarecrow is also, no wonder he's going to be so incredibly lacking most of the time (nevermind the fact that he's never going to be the guy most infamous for gassing Gotham City).

Yes, he may be sadistic and cruel, he may enjoy what he does too much, and maybe there really isn't any kind of realistic explanation as to why a man would dress up as a scarecrow to commit terrorism and spray innocent people with chemicals to make them terrified, but refer to the guy he's fighting. "Realistic" is the wrong term. The issue here is less "why" the Scarecrow does what he does, and more what is he hoping to get out of it. Granted, this is less of a concern if you're playing The Scarecrow as a figure of horror, someone who's not even really human underneath that outfit. But I think that locks away much of his versatility. The Scarecrow needs Jonathan Crane, and I think there's good stuff to like about that awful man.

I like Jonathan Crane the sardonic pragmatic scientist who still embraces his hopelessly ridiculous life, a guy who's not nearly as above it all as he'd like to be and has wants and needs moreso than he really likes to admit. I like him as a book lover, as a fan of horror, I like him as the kind of guy who'd send fan mail to Elvira and break out of Arkham just to catch a Halloween parade and guest star in a Scooby-Doo movie for a change. I like him as someone who'd have a decent working relationship with the other rogues and pal with the Legion of Doom and get into a physical spat with Riddler over a chess game. Someone who custom-makes his own outfits and equipment, who makes scythes out of animal bones to fight Batman with, who picked the scarecrow motif in part because it was a term of derision his colleagues used on him.

Who pours himself over his research as he records his theories in a tape recorder, the kind of guy who grouses at having to clean another cell because he's getting annoyed at his test subjects killing themselves, seriously guys the cleaning supplies for this batch were as fresh as they could be, and the iguana amygdalas I used should be stopping your neocortexes from overreacting this strongly. Subject #3 over there got over his fear of centipedes yesterday and he hasn't screamed all morning, I'm gonna need the rest of you to stop being such babies, okay?

It must be terribly liberating for Crane, to transcend mere ugliness and become inhuman. Of all the rogues, he’s easily the one who takes Batman’s “I need a disguise; I shall become a beast of the night” schtick and runs with it the farthest - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

And that's for Jonathan Crane, man of science. The Scarecrow, however, is not science, he is unreason incarnate, and to me what most makes The Scarecrow work as a Batman villain has nothing to do with "they both use fear as a weapon", I always thought that was a bit shallow of an angle to pursue (most, if not all, the villains rely on fear, it comes with the whole "crime" thing). The two have a stronger connection via the costume, the theatricality, the becoming a creature of the night angle. None of the other major Batman villains are going into their costumes the way The Scarecrow is. They have their personas and varying degrees of division between them and their "real selves", but few of them are wearing outright identity-separating Halloween Monster Costumes with separate names and personalities they can dip in and out of at their convenience.

And I'm gonna interrupt myself to answer your second question. I couldn't pick just one design, so counting the Batman Live one above, I picked 10. These are not in order and they're not necessarily how I'd design him, I'd say my actual favorite Scarecrow designs are fan-made, but if I was going to pick out of "official" material these are the ones I'd go for. It's time for:

(Left-to-right: George Pratt's Scarecrow pin-up, Phil Jimenez's Scarecrow design, Ed Natividad's concept art for Suicide Squad)

(Left-to-right: His TNBA design by Bruce Timm as drawn by Luciano Vecchio, Alex Ross's design for Justice, and Tim Sale's Scarecrow)

(Left-to-right: Kelley Jones' design for Kings of Fear, Jeremy Raapack's design for Legends of the Dark Knight #25, Scarecrow's design in Happy Halloween, Scooby-Doo!)

*cough*, anyway: Most of the other rogues with their signature suits or masks or body distortions don't tend to have closets full of different variant Batsuits and scarecrow costumes to choose and devote to their cause and ideal, that they sit at night tailoring on how to make scarier or more loaded with weapons, that they might even have conversations with, things that sit in their closets waiting because both of these brilliant men, men who have (or at least had) different civilian lives, men who could stop doing this at any time, who both decided that becoming a Halloween monster prowling the streets to inflict terror is a necessary, even productive use of their time.

And I think that's the key word I want to end here, productive. I think The Scarecrow needs to be more productive. Because even if he's not aware of it, he is achieving progress via his research, and there is one way he's proved his ideas: Batman walks out of every fight they have stronger. Every encounter they have is a test that Batman resists and walks out of more able to cope with his own traumas, or at least, better able to resist them being weaponized against him. I always wanted to explore the idea that Crane is genuinely convinced he's doing people a favor or at least achieving something via all these horrible Scarecrow campaigns, and one thing he has achieved is that Batman is never not prepared for chemical attacks or assaults on his mind, Batman resists ungodly trials of willpower and determination and courage, in part because he has to deal with the Scarecrow pumping terror juice in his brain semi-regularly.

The fact that Crane loses and gets beaten up and has to retry schemes again and again and kill people and join the costume parade just to lure Batman is fairly inconsequential to him, so long as it gets results. He's not interested in dissecting Batman's brain or being more like Batman, that's Hugo Strange's thing. Hugo Strange needs Batman to be fearless, allmighty and perfect, where as Jonathan Crane wants nothing more than to unearth and study the fears and kinks in the armor, the dead last thing he wants is a perfect man. Hugo Strange wants to crawl naked into the mask of the great and terrible fascist and never come out, where as The Scarecrow wants to crack open all the masks in the world and feast luridly on whatever seeps out.

Batman isn't just the ultimate trial against his fear-ruled worldview (or even affirmation), and he isn't just a breakthrough waiting to happen: he might be his greatest success as of yet. A case study on the success of exposure therapy, proof of potential medicinal applications for his formula, the greatest guinea pig of all time because he won't die no matter what you pump into him, you name it. So what if all those other people couldn't stomach the procedure, so what if those precious innocents are too weak and stupid and useless to not get in the way of research, it's clearly worked wonders for those who could take it.

And if the future belongs to men like Batman, if all of these superheroes and supervillains are the way things are going to be like forever, if the future is Bat-shaped and as vast and uncertain and horrible as the forces shaping it, the future needs to be prepared. The future needs to grapple with it's past and face it's greatest horrors and become stronger for it. There is no such thing as overcoming fear, there is only living with it, embracing it, bowing to the primordial instinct that knows the answer before you do. Mankind grew and developed it's intelligence and tools out of fear, fear of the bigger predators out there, fear of the other cavemen, fear of starvation and death and everything they couldn't understand and master until they learned to fear it. What better knowledge to pass along than fear? And who is better qualified to teach about fear?

Maybe Crane isn't just another monster with a grudge, maybe he isn't another costumed revenge killer, maybe he isn't just a power-tripping sadist bully out to torment others because he can, and maybe he isn't a hopeless traumatized madman who destroyed his professional and personal life in a monstrous quest to satisfy an obsession ruling his soul.

Maybe he is a sane response to an insane situation. Ever heard that one before?

#replies tag #superheroes #batman #dc comics #scarecrow #the scarecrow #jonathan crane #gotham city

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hxney-lemcn · 1 year ago

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Closure — Farmworld! Finn Mertens x gn! reader

summary: reader has trouble figuring what universe they want to stay in. Prismo gives them some leniency and lets them visit Ooo. Finally, reader gets some closure and makes their decision.

tw: reader gets close to a break down, bittersweet

a/n: If I were reader, I'd simply die because I wouldn't be able to choose, but for the sake of the plot, they do.

wc: 1.2k

Chapter Five [A]

Master List | Chapter One

“Heeeeeey,” Prismo drew out, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry about leaving you there for so long.”

I blinked, unsure how to feel. On one hand, I did want to leave my previous scenario…but leaving forever? And without saying goodbye, or letting them know that I was safe? I bit my lip glancing to the side only to see the tv wall still on. My eyes widened as it showed Finn trekking through the forest, a worried glare set on his face as he followed the lantern light in the same direction I took off.

Prismo followed my view, “Oh, sorry. Don’t mean to distract you.” Then he turned the tv off, turning the wall back yellow.

I blinked, turning to face the pink wishmaster, “I have to go back.”

This time Prismo blinked at me, “You don’t wanna go back to your old world?”

I hesitated, and Prismo seemed to notice. He turned the tv back on, revealing the Finn from my world. Turning the volume up, it revealed Finn on the phone with Marcy.

“You haven’t found them yet?” He asked in a worried tone, desperation filled his expression.

“No,” Marcy was heard from the phone. “I’m sorry man. But I’m sure they're fine, maybe they went on a trip?”

“Without telling me?” Finn asked, slightly hurt. “They’d never do that.”

Suddenly, the situation got 10x worse. I felt torn. How do I have two different Finn’s searching for me? I frowned looking towards Prismo. I suddenly felt like crying. No matter which world I choose, I’d be leaving people behind. I started pacing, thinking of all the pros and cons. My frown started to wobble, as no matter what I did, it would be the wrong choice. The thought of Finn endlessly searching for me throughout Ooo, once again being left behind by someone he cared about. Or Finn going back to his family, having to explain the person they’ve grown so used to had run off, and only glob knows what happened to them.

“Whoah, whoah,” Prismo spoke up, turning the tv off once more. “Hey, since I kinda caused this whole mess…sorry ‘bout that…I can be a bit more lenient.” I looked up at the pink deity, unsure of what he meant. “How about you go back to Ooo, talk with Finn, and then make your decision. I’ll put a sticky note in your front pocket to send you back. If you’re still unsure, I can send you to the magicless world and you can talk to that Finn. How does that sound?”

I felt myself calm, nodding my head, “That sounds really nice, thank you so much Prismo. This means a lot.”

“No probs,” He shrugged with a sly smile. Suddenly, I was transported back to Ooo, standing in the Candy Tavern.

The first thing I saw was Finn hunched over the tavern counter, not having noticed me just appear out of thin air. Dirt Beer Guy coughed, gaining Finn’s attention before pointing towards me. Finn seemed to go through the five stages of grief in the span of a few seconds before rushing to hug me.

He let out a happy shout of my name, “Where have you been?!”

I let out an awkward chuckle, hugging him back. He was nearly killing me with how hard he was hugging me…but I honestly deserved it.

“It’s a long story,” I mumbled. I can’t believe I was being so selfish. Staying in the magicless world without even telling Finn and the others where I would be staying? I’ve been downplaying my importance in Finn’s life and now I felt like a doo-doo head.

“I’ve got time,” Finn smiled while pulling away. “Get us another round DBG!”

I felt my heart clench, even more unsure of what I wanted now. As Finn and I sat down at the bar, I started from the beginning. How Prismo had accidentally brought me along with Simon, about how Fionna and Cake are real, and how I got stuck in the first universe we fell in. How in that world he had a family and I had become incorporated into it. How I ran away and ended up with Prismo taking me back to Ooo to decide where I wanted to stay.

It was awkward, explaining to Finn about how I lived with another version of him. I tried to pass over the fact that I might have fallen for that Finn and may have kissed him, but I think Finn knew I wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“That’s crazy!” Finn exclaimed, eyes wide with wonder. “I had kids! Five of them?!”

I laughed gently at his awe, “Yeah. They’re really sweet too.”

Finn hummed in thought staring at me with a somber stare, “You wanna stay there don’t you.”

I looked down towards my drink, swirling it around and shrugged, “I do…but I don’t wanna leave you here either.”

“Why don’t you bring your phone with you this time?” Finn asked, giving me a brilliant smile. “That way we can talk whenever we want!”

“Would that even work?” I asked, looking at him with hope. “And you’d really be okay with that? And I mean seriously. Not just saying yes for my sake.”

“Of course!” Finn said, leaning over to hug my side. “I want you to be happy! Even if it means smooching an alternate version of me.”

My eyes widened, face suddenly feeling like it was ablaze, “I’m not smooching an alternate version of you!”

“Uh huh,” Finn smiles cheekily. “Whatever you say. Don’t worry about me, I’m typically hanging out with Huntress Wizard anyways.” I wiggled my eyebrows at that, and he just let out a ‘pshh’.

Our laughs died down and I downed the rest of my drink.

“Hey, sorry to be a downer, but I gotta close up for the night…” DBG spoke up, putting a clean glass back in place.

“Oh! No problem bro,” Finn waved off, standing up. I stood up as well, and we exited the bar together. “So, when are you gonna head back?”

I shrugged, “Prismo said whenever I wanted.”

“You should probably go then,” Finn recommended.

I hugged him, squeezing as hard as I could, “I love you man, don’t forget that. Keep me up to date on everything, okay?”

“I will,” Finn agreed, hugging me back. “I love you too.”

Pulling away from each other, I waved at him before pulling the note from my pocket, which transported me to Prismo’s room once more.

“Welcome back,” Prismo welcomed. “Made your choice?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Oh shoot! I forgot my phone!”

“Oh, yeah that totally wasn’t gonna work,” Prismo shrugged. “You’re lucky I got you one that will work, already with your contacts transferred.”

With a snap, a phone appeared in my hands. Searching through the contacts, they indeed had all my friends listed already. A giddy grin formed on my face. Making this choice wasn’t going as badly as I thought it would.

“You ready?” Prismo asked. I nodded.

“Thank you again for doing all this.”

“Yeah, I totally shouldn’t be doing this, but since it was my fault…” He trailed off, looking to the side. “Anyways, are you sure you're sure? Cause after I send you there you won’t have a way to find me again since…well, their world has no magic.”

“I am,” I nodded with a serious expression.

With a snap of his fingers, I found myself in the living room/kitchen of the Mertens household. Suddenly, I was being tackled by a bunch of kids, all of them asking where I went and why would I do that.

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#finn mertens x reader #adventure time x reader #fionna and cake x reader #farmworld finn x reader #farmworld finn mertens x reader #adventure time #fionna and cake #finn mertens #farmworld finn #farmworld finn mertens #adventure time imagines #fionna and cake imagine #fionna and cake imagines

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ghouly-boiiiii · 6 months ago

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Hey, y'all! Sorry I haven't been around much this month. I've been dealing with some personal stuff, but I'm working on the last chapter of My Name Is Cooper and it should be ready to post soon!

On another note, I've been watching a lot of Fallout lore videos lately and it's been really fascinating! (Spoilers for Fallout 1, New Vegas and the show ahead!) Even though I've been playing the games for years, there's a lot I didn't know. Like the story of The Master / Richard Grey in Fallout 1. First off, what a design! He's gotta be one of the most grotesque and horrifying character designs and concepts in any video game I've seen. And all the different voices. It's chilling! I didn't know the original Fallout game was so disturbing. And I love it! Also, I've just always loved the look of these old games. I used to love Baldur's Gate 2, which Interplay also worked on (or rather a division of it), so it's kinda nostalgic looking at the old Fallout graphics, which are very similar. Very cool! I might have to give it a playthrough some day!

Second, I found it interesting how the show kind of takes things from the games and mirrors them. Like it's not the same characters or circumstances, but the themes remain the same. For example, in the show, Vault-Tec's solution to end war is to eliminate everyone else so that they are the only faction left. Which is exactly what The Master tried to do as well, but with super mutants. I think it's pretty cool how they went full circle, using this recurring theme, (because they aren't the only two factions with this philosophy either in the lore) pulling that idea from the very first game and working it into the show as one of Vault-Tec's primary motivations.

I also found out that Bethesda brought back many of the original creators for New Vegas, so it makes a lot of sense why people say it's the best Fallout! I'm currently playing through New Vegas on my YouTube channel. (I have one full video and a bunch of shorts, but I took a break because, well, I became a little Ghoul obsessed, hehe. But now that I'm almost done with my first fic, I'm gonna start doing more videos again!) So come check it out if you want! I kinda spoiled some things for myself when it comes to Mr. House, but it's also made me want to play the game even more! Also, with the second season apparently taking place in New Vegas, it's basically a necessity at this point!

And! I have also discovered yet more instances of Ghoul / Human relationships in the Fallout universe. If I remember correctly (I can't remember the specific video now, and it would take forever to go back and find it, so bear with me lol) there's a female ghoul prostitute your character can sleep with in New Vegas. And also a ghoul named Gob in Fallout 3 (whom I vaguely remember from way back when I played it, but forgot his story) who appears to be in a secret relationship with a woman he works with, who is also a prostitute (but not a ghoul lol).

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO yes, Ghoulcy is absolutely %100 on brand for Fallout. People be fuckin' ghouls all over the place. So if Fallout's gonna have a romance of any kind, it's gonna be with the hot ghoul character and his narrative foil, y'all. Yup. That's just how it is. It's canon peeps, case closed!

#SO TO ALL THE ANTI'S #AND ANYONE WHO'S STILL A NON-BELIEVER #HEAR ME AND REPENT!#THE TRUTH IS AS PLAIN AS THE NOSE ON COOPERS... wait...#cooper howard #fallout #the ghoul #lucy maclean #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #fallout prime #my posts #ghouly-boi #fallout lore #ghoul fuckers

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rea-grimm · 4 months ago

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Weapon Beel

You traveled the country with Beel, and here and there you made a living as a mercenary. But you didn't take just any job, because you had your morals, which money couldn't buy.

Mostly you helped with hunting the wild animals that plagued the villages and towns, occasionally you stood up to bandits and thieves, and on rare occasions you helped transport goods as bodyguards.

You were just on your way to the next town, where you planned to find something to make a quick buck before moving on again. Beel wanted to meet up with his brother again, who was also a weapon like him, but he was very hard to find.

You walked along a beaten path, with a forest on one side and a cornfield on the other. You thought you'd walk for a while before you camped for the night.

You went on when the corn in the field began to rustle. Something was coming towards you. Beel stood a step ahead of you, but stood so that at any time he could turn into a weapon and you could fight with him.

Until the last second you stood there ready for what it could be. You knew that anything could be hiding in those fields. Bandits, thieves, wolves, or other wildlife.

About three wild boars emerged from the field and ran towards you. Beel grabbed one around the neck and threw it against the ground. You, in turn, jumped aside so that the mountain of flesh would not knock you down. Sometimes you thought they were worse than wolves.

He saw the situation you were in and didn't blink and turned into a weapon. That's how you overpowered the rest of the wild boar like nothing. It was also because Beel was your weapon and he was the demonic weapon of the Gluttony. But his appearance as a weapon didn't quite live up to his name.

However, as you defeated the boars, you decided to camp on the spot and prepare them for dinner. Normally that many boars would feed several people, but this was just the portion for your weapon. He definitely lived up to his name, as you got the impression he had a giant black hole for a stomach.

Beel already had one wild boar in him, while he cut off your best meat. Even though he was almost insatiable, his heart was in the right place and he always thought of others.

"Truthfully, when you first told me you were a demonic weapon of the Gluttony, I pictured something else. Maybe even by the looks of it," you said as he cut off a piece of meat. He turned his fingers into a blade and lightly sliced the flesh from the bone.

" Hmm, for example what?" He asked, handing you a plate of meat.

"Something big, heavy and greedy," you replied with an apologetic smile. "Usually a two-handed weapon, like a battle axe, a two-handed sword, a war hammer, or even a shield," you said. These were the weapons you imagined him to be, rather than what he actually was.

"Those are good suggestions," he chuckled, biting into the flesh. Under his teeth crunched the bones that disappeared inside him as well. There were hardly ever any remnants of it.

"But I'm glad for what I am," he said with his mouth full before finally swallowing. "This is a great way for me to fight, protect my loved ones, and help in the kitchen. Imagine how you'd like to butcher meat with a battle hammer or shield," he said, biting into the meat, the bone crunching under his teeth.

This sound of bones snapping and shaking took a long time to get used to. It was different in a fight, but this way, in the quiet of a meal, it sent shivers down your spine. You were worried about it puncturing his stomach or intestines, but it never did anything.

As you ate, Beel told you about his twin, who was quite different in appearance from him. Smaller, dark haired, and he was also a completely different weapon. He was a seax and his brother was a rifle. A perfect combination where his twin would shoot from a distance and he would finish off enemies at close range. His twin however had another true master.

While you were finishing your portion, Beel was devouring the last of the third boar. Darkness already reigned all around and the only light was provided by the flames of the campfire and the stars in the sky.

A cold wind blew and a chill ran through you. It didn't escape your weapon and drew you into a bear hug. This was better than any bed. Beel rested his chin on your head and you leaned more heavily against him. You fell asleep so contentedly in his arms.

Obey me! Masterlist

#obey me!#obey me x reader #weapon au #beel x reader #beelzebub x reader #obey me beelzebub #beel #beelzebub

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mask131 · 6 months ago

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The myth of Medea (1)

As I went across the various Dictionaries of Myths I talked to you about, I noticed quite a number of Medea-related articles. So, let’s begin with an article about the “Antique Medea”, written by Alain Moreau. As usual, loosely translated by me.

I/ Positive beginnings

A dreaded sorceress and a bloodthirsty killer: those are the two traits that have been imposed on any depiction of Medea, and that for a very long time. To be precise, this portrait can be dated back to Euripides’ Medea in 431 BCE. It might surprise one to discover that it was not always the case, and that the original Medea might have been a benevolent goddess. As often in mythology, the name reveals (or betrays) the origins: Medea’s name seems to be formed of the Indo-European root “med”, which split in modern language in two domains, the one of “meditation” and the one of “medicine”. This etymological origin is reflected in the myth, as Medea prepares all sorts of medicine and remedies – it is with them that, during her stay in Thebes, she healed Herakles who had just murdered his own children after being cursed with madness by Hera. She is also depicted as having the power of rejuvenating the old Aeson, Jason’s father, as well as giving back youth to Jason himself and to the Hyades, the nurses of Dionysos. It is also her who, in Colchis, covers Jason’s body with an herbal ointment which protects him from the deadly fire blown by the bulls of Aietes (the herb used was the legendary “prometheion”, which appeared on the slopes of Caucasus from the blood of Prometheus which falls to the ground each time Zeus’ eagle comes to eat the Titan’s liver). Considering all of this, it is very likely that Medea was originally one of the manifestations or avatar of the great Mother-Goddesses that were once honored throughout Greece and the Near-East, in the image of Cybele, Gaia, Rhea or Demeter. It is not a surprise, according to this reading, that one day she gains for a paredra a male god of smaller importance, “Iasôn”, Jason, whose name is linked to the verb “iaomai” (to heal), to the character of Iasô, a goddess of health daughter of Asklepios, and to the term “iatros”, a doctor, a term still found today with terms such as “psychiatrist” or “pediatrist”.

Up until this point all is good. In the second stage of her evolution, Medea stays a benevolent character, but the goddess leaves the context of religion (and thus a static and synchronic state) to enter a “chronical” state, the one of a tale inscribed in time, the one of the legend and the myth. She becomes a helper, an auxiliary, who helps the hero to perform what seems to be impossible deeds. Thanks to her, Jason dominates the fire-breathing bulls, kills the giants born out of the ground, becomes the owner of the Golden Fleece, escapes Aietes’ ships. According to Hesiode, it is thanks to her, thanks to his new wife, thanks to the “virgin with glittering eyes” that Jason could return to Iolkos safe and happy. Still according to Hesiode, once back to Jason’s homeland she gave him a son, Medeios, who was raised by Chiron in the mountains ; and all of this was part “of the plan of the Great Zeus”. Reading these lines, one can hear the ending of a fairytale: “They married, had many children, and lived happily ever after”. With the slight nuance that Hesiod claims they only had one son.

Things however were already starting to look dark. Because in this tale, we recognize a folkloric motif: the hero of the folktales must triumph of the traps laid before him with the help of a princess. However this theme is deeply linked to another fairytale motif: “the hero is helped by the devil’s daughter”. Aietes, indeed, is a being of the Otherworld. He is the master of Aia, “the land”, a nameless land, located far away in the East, and which can only be reached by crossing the unpassable rocks, the Symplegades, similar to the doors of Hades. The difference between the myth of Jason and the fairytales is that, in folklore, the devil’s daughter usually stays with her father. The terrible mistake of Jason, or rather his respect of the deal he formed with Medea (the idea of Jason’s perjury only comes in later evolutions), leads to him bringing her into the world of humankind, where she does not belong, and where she can only cause blood and death. Pindar depicts, in his fourth Pythic, a blond-haired Jason filled with male confidence who accepts the terrible trials imposed by Pelias the usurper, and who leads gloriously the Argonauts expedition towards the Golden Fleece – but if Pindar presents us a beautiful and positive picture, in truth, already by 462 BCE, the myth of Jason and Medea is blood-stained.

II/ The infanticide

The determining element that shifted the glorious myth to the abominable tragedy is the theme of the infanticide. It appears with the epic poet Eumelos (8th or 7th century BCE) where Medea kills by accident her children in an attempt to give them immortality, by burying them in the sanctuary of Hera (the katakryptia process). But she fails, just like Thetis failed to give immortality to her son Achilles: the children die smothered alive. Medea has good intentions, but commits a bad action. Then, with the epic poet Creophylos (third quarter of the 6th century BCE), Medea is falsely accused by the Corinthians of killing her children, because they want to get revenge on her for the murders of king Creon and the princess Creusa/Glauke. Finally, it is Euripides, in 431, who synthetizes the two versions: he is the first to write that Medea actually and willingly killed her children.

As soon, the new image of Medea is set and fixed: she is a killer of men. She killed her brother Apsyrtos, that she stabbed before cutting him into pieces and throwing them in the sea, to slow down the Colchian pursuers. She killed the father, since he received an oracle telling him he would die by losing the Golden Fleece (according to Diodorus, he died during a night battle between the Colchians and the Argonauts). She killed Pelias, the uncle of her husband, manipulating his daughters into slitting his throat in the hope of bringing him back to life in a magic cauldron. She killed the king of Corinth, Creon, who was guilty of trying to marry Jason to his daughter, and to exile Medea. She killed her children, all boys – and this is the most famous part of her myth. She killed her husband, that she convinces to sleep by the shadow of the Argo, which was rotting on the sand: a piece of it falls and crushed his head. Finally, she is the killer of Perses, Aietes’ brother, who had usurped Colchis’ throne. Only Theseus managed to escape death at her hands in Athens.

III/ From one myth to another

Euripides is thus the one who completely shifted the myth and turned Medea into this beautiful and dangerous character that imposed herself in literature. By showing, at the end of his play, Medea flying away of the palace on a dragon-tied chariot sent by her grandfather Helios, he gives her back the supernatural nature she had lost by being turned into the princess of Colchis. But the benevolent goddess has been turned into an elemental power, monstrous and maleficent. According to Seneca, the name “Medea” is linked to other words in “m”: “mare” (the sea), “metus” (dread), “malum” (evil), “monstrum” (monster), “Medusa” (the Gorgon). She is also the “mater”, the mother, but a mother who kills her children. The summit of this nefarious power is reached with Dracontius, at the end of the 5th century CE, who tells of how Medea manages to “remove the horns of the full moon”, an immense feat of magic never repeated to this day. Considering this, it is quite surprising to see that Medea now ends her career as the mere wife of Achilles (alongside Helen, Iphigenia, and Polyxene) in either the Elysian Fields or the Blessed Islands. This part of the legend appeared with Ibycos, in the second half of the 6th century BCE, before being repeated by Simonide (556-467 BCE) and finally by Lycophron, an “antiquarian”, that is to say a mythographer who collected the older and more ancient versions of legends, those of a time when Medea was a benevolent entity.

We already saw two of the reasons that explain why Medea the generous goddess becomes the bloodthirsty monster: first, the introduction of a being of the Otherworld into the human world that is the Greek civilization ; second, the evolution of the motif of the infanticide. But there are three other important elements to take into account. First of all being her relationship with Thessaly: Medea is linked to this country through Jason, who is born in Thessaly, and through the city of Ephyra. The Thessalian land was considered to be the country of witches: the Latin poets and writers always had the word “witch” or “sorceress” be followed by the adjective “Thessalian”, and the connotations of witchcraft were almost always negative.

The second element to take into account is Medea’s relationship with the Orient, which also brings us back to witchcraft and magic. It is from the East that Helios rises every day on his chariot, on his journey to the West, and Helios has among his descendants many witches, such as Circe, Pasiphae… or Medea. But above all, the Orient is characterized by cunning, cruelty and barbary, all traits that Medea bears when she tricks the daughters of Pelias, when she lies to Creon and Jason, when she kills and disembowels, when she had the Corinthian princess die in atrocious pain through a drug that burns her like acid. The Barbarian is the invader, like the Medes who had invaded Greece (and whose name was linked to the one of Medea): this is why all the iconographic depictions posterior to 480 BCE (the battle of Salamine) show Theseus the Greek fighting against Medea the Mede.

The third reason for this change of good to evil is that, at least since Euripides, Medea is perceived as a “virile woman”: in a Greek society dominated by men, such a masculine woman is to be a monster. Euripides has her use constantly a military language: she prefers to be “three times on the line, three times with the shield by her side” rather than to “give birth one more time” ; she wants to “do like hoplits”, she wants to use a word, to use strength, she keeps talking about her enemies and her glory. The Athenian, who typically locks up his woman in the gynecea, can’t stand such words.

IV/ Terror and pity

Yet, Euripides is a much too talented of a playwright to create just a melodrama character. He uses the two tools of the tragedy, terror and pity. Medea is also the poor young woman abandoned by the one who seduced her, she is alone, far away from her family, of which she cut herself off due to her actions. She is the bronze-skinned foreigner that is disdained and dreaded, and as such she is the perfect scapegoat. She is a being of flesh torn by conflicting feelings, her hatred for Jason, and her love for her children ; children that she turns into tools for her revenge against her cowardly and unfaithful husband, while perfectly knowing that the crime she is about to commit will break not just Jason’s heart, but also her own. This duality is still maintained centuries after Euripides. Most authors of Antiquity (Ovid, Seneca, Dracontius) put a focus on the violence and monstrosity of the character – outside of a few, such as Apollonios of Rhodes or Valerius Flaccus, who rather focus on the birth of Jason’s and Medea’s love. However, modern and contemporary authors are much more nuanced: as such Cherubini, Lamartine, Grillparzer and Legouvé focus on the duality of Medea, putting at the center of their work the idea of this dark-skinned foreigner who is both dreaded and rejected. The picture of Medea as the gypsy woman is central in the works of Anouilh, Max Rouquette and Christa Wolf, who all stay faithful to the themes of the pharmakos and of the scape-goat, already present by Euripides’ work.

#greek mythology #medea #witch #greek myths #the myth of medea

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eddiemunsonw · 2 years ago

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Hellfire Club

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your plan to pick up your cousin Dustin at his Hellfire Club meeting ends a little… differently.

Eddie and you do the do

CW/Disclaimer: Smut. But kinda sweet and sorta funny smut.

Author's note: Enjoyyyyyyy. :)

Words: 3935

On your way into Hawkins High, you were met with the majority of students leaving it instead. Some guys gave you lingering looks as they checked out the “new girl” but to your relief no one approached you. It would be kind of awkward to tell them you had a few years on them and therefore no interest in the slightest. Dustin had told you how to get to the drama room where he was attending his “Hellfire Club” meeting and thanks to his clear instructions it wasn’t too hard to get there. Since you weren’t entirely sure how long they would take, you had brought along your sketchbook and assumed it would be no trouble to hang out there for the time being.

The room was dark as you entered, an atmosphere created by a faded orange, yellow hue that seemed to have been used to create a sunset type of feel. A couple of fake torches were lit and in the middle of the room stood a large, dark wooden table surrounded by wooden chairs that were currently occupied. At the head of the table was a throne and with one glance at the guy who had claimed that seat, you knew he was probably the Dungeon Master.

You didn’t know a ton about Dungeons & Dragons, but Dustin had taken it upon himself to tell you lots about it during the times you visited him and your aunt Claudia. Hence, it also wasn’t a secret to you that the guy with the unruly brown hair went by the name of Eddie Munson. His eyes were on you the moment you walked in, giving you a peculiar look that seemed to calculate what to do with you. One part seemed to want you gone, the other… wasn’t too sure. Without further ado you decided that the best way to not interrupt them was to simply sit down at the other side of the table opposite Eddie.

The frown on Eddie’s face deepened when you did and he cocked his head in confusion, eyes following your gaze towards Dustin. You had assumed that he would’ve told the guy that you would be “joining” the session. When Dustin was about to speak, Eddie was just a little quicker and you found him looking in your direction again.

“To what do we owe the honor of your presence, miss…?”

Dustin grabbed his second chance before you could answer.

“That’s Y/N, my cousin. She was uhm… picking me up.” A frown appeared on his face and it seemed as if there was more to that statement. However, Eddie wasted no time.

“Okay… can’t she wait somewhere else?” Eddie asked, his brow raised as he eyed Dustin with mild curiosity and a sliver of annoyance. Dustin was starting to get impatient as this time you spoke up before he could, again.

“Don’t worry, she can speak just fine.” You gave him a tight lipped smile as his face turned towards you, hair softly swaying with the motion. Eddie responded with a quick smile of his own that didn’t meet his eyes and he looked frankly quite uninterested in what you had to say.

“Actually…” Dustin started apologetically, glancing over at you, “I no longer need the ride.” At your subtle eyebrow raise he hastily continued. “I couldn’t reach you, I tried! I’m gonna go somewhere with Lucas later so… I don’t need the ride anymore.” he finished in one breath.

“Oh, alright. No problem.” You shrugged and grabbed your sketchbook, causing confusion to etch into the faces of all other party members as they looked at you expectantly.

“Y/N…?” Dustin tried hesitantly. A smile teased the corners of your lips as you heard the softest, impatient huff coming from the head of the table.

“Oh? Hope you don’t mind if I linger for a bit? Robin took my car because I assumed I’d be here for a while, which is why I’m earlier than we agreed upon actually. I don’t really feel like hanging around elsewhere in the school, and the weather isn’t exactly peachy today. Quite like the change of scenery here, actually.”

“Would be great if you could take your desire for nice scenery elsewhere, actually,” Eddie mumbled. “We’re having something serious going on here.”

Barely able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, you sighed softly before addressing him.

“Relax, Munson. I won’t interrupt. Promise.”

From the looks of it Eddie wanted to retort, but when Dustin gave him a look he just rolled his eyes and for some reason, he relented. As if you weren’t there at all, he continued what he was saying before your arrival had interrupted him in the first place.

It was actually quite entertaining to listen to them playing the game. Mostly because of Eddie, really, with all the effort he put into various characters and the range of voices he had for them. You found yourself resting your pencil on the paper more often than not to glance up at him, only to find how often his eyes would look in your direction. You couldn’t help but smile and sometimes softly giggle along with the rest of the party whenever he did something funny. Whether it was intended or not.

At some point however, you were thoroughly engrossed in your drawing when all of a sudden a ringed hand came into view, holding what you recalled as a d20.

“Blow on it, for good luck.”

You glanced upwards at Eddie who gave you an expression that you found hard to read at first. Suddenly, as his brows knit together the slightest fraction, you recognized it. A challenge. For whatever reason he needed proof that you weren’t ridiculing him behind your smiles and giggles. Not sure how you knew, but you just knew that that was what it was about, for some reason.

Your free hand cupped around his and you blew gently on the dice, looking upwards through your lashes to meet his eyes again.

“Like that?” you asked innocently, knowing exactly what you were doing. His eyes darkened a fraction when you licked your lips out of habit. You couldn’t help but smile when his eyes shifted away from you as he nodded, hand lingering in yours for just a touch longer.

“Yeah, just like that.”

And with that, the tone had changed. Your eyes met his over the table when he rolled eighteen, which was enough for what he had wanted to do apparently because he smiled. It wasn’t just a smile. Although hard to put into words, you knew you had played the cards he had given you just right.

Where the party hadn’t commented on his little good luck charm action, they did speak up when Eddie started describing a damsel in distress exactly like you. Your hair, eyes, even the color of your shirt was woven into the description. It wasn’t just those details that did it for them, though. It was how he continued to describe how effortlessly beautiful she was. A real head turner. All while stealing obvious glances at you as he went on to add details such as a necklace and rings. He had changed your watch into a bracelet.

As Eddie continued to add the mischievous sparkle in your or “their” eyes, Dustin interrupted him with a near whine that made it very clear he was feeling quite uncomfortable.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but can we stop adding my cousin into the game? It gives me the heebie-jeebies.” Dustin begged.

Eddie cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as he read Dustin’s expression carefully. He made a show of taking a sip of his mountain dew that he had poured into a chalice first and smirked.

“There are many people who go by that description, Henderson. Can’t help but gather my inspiration from the direct environment sometimes though. Would you rather have the damsel look like you?”

Dustin pouted as the rest of the party laughed and he scribbled something onto his paper. You were sure he wrote down to remind himself to never ask you for a favor again.

“Well?” Eddie pressed, a big grin on his face.

“... no.”

“Glad we agree.”

At the end of the session, Dustin was surprised you hadn’t left yet. You simply shrugged and said Robin must be taking longer. The kids left to make some copies of a poster they needed next Monday for their science project and then they would be off, heading into the weekend. You, however, hadn’t moved a muscle. Not even when Eddie had packed up about all of his stuff. He seemed a little more nervous, a little agitated now that it was just you two. His confidence had taken a subtle dip and you didn’t mind. You thought he looked cute with those slightly pink cheeks. He glanced over at you and you held his gaze, crossing your arms and noticed he mirrored you.

“What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

Eddie nodded and rested his elbows on the table, cupping his hands to hold his face up. He looked a little worn out, which wouldn’t surprise you considering all the talking he had done. You sat forward as well, doing the same as you quirked a brow.

“I don’t know. I just— why’re you still here?” It genuinely seemed to confuse him. In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you were still there.

“Have I overstayed my welcome? If I ever was? Welcome, that is.” you asked as you tilted your head a little. Eddie sighed and leaned back in his throne and you put your sketchbook away. As you leaned back in your chair, you noticed he was still staring at you.

“That’s not—” He pursed his lips together, trying to let his mind form words to deal with his mess of a brain which was currently working overtime. You watched as he straightened his back just as you did and picked up a dice in front of him. Eyes wandering all the way back to your end of the table, you noticed a dice nearby that probably belonged to either Eddie or another member of the party. As you picked it up, Eddie spoke.

“Are you copying me?”

You looked up and raised a brow at him, only to find he was already raising one at you. He clenched his fist around the dice just as you did. All not on purpose, really. It just happened.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied, though a little voice in your head said that maybe you should start copying him on purpose. Just to see. So when he raked a hand through his hair, you did too. He rolled his eyes, so did you. A subtle laugh escaped his lips in disbelief, and you shook your head simultaneously after.

“So you are.”

“Ah, speech too?”

Neither of you made a move to leave the drama room, although that had been Eddie’s intention. He had no desire to linger in this room with you, someone who did things to his brain and the rest of his body. As much as his rational side wanted to get out of here, though, the desire to stay was much stronger. He licked his lips, pleased to see you doing the same although it sent shivers down his spine immediately. He tapped his nose with his finger and so did you. Both of you smiled.

“Interesting,” you both mused. Eddie started to like the game. Grabbed onto the back of his throne so his shirt tightened against his chest and rode up a little. His satisfied smirk made you roll your eyes when you copied him. Apart from blinking, your eyes never left each other. His hands traveled over the table graciously before grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking it gently. The grimace on your face made him giggle.

“What are we doing?” Eddie asked softly as he grasped at his shoulder with his hand, gently trailing it down towards his chest. His cheeks were flushed, anticipation in his eyes as he followed your hand. He licked his lips subconsciously and felt the need to shift in his seat.

“I don’t know,” you responded honestly. You just knew that you didn’t want this to end. Your hand grazed your bra through the fabric as he dared to move lower, making you almost cup your breast. It wasn’t until he made a squeezing motion that you protested.

“Not exactly fair, is it?” you mumbled, though you did in fact squeeze your boob as many times as he squeezed the empty air in front of his chest.

“That I don’t have boobs to squeeze? Very unfair,” Eddie agreed. He grinned boyishly as your eyes traveled to the back of their sockets again. “Any more eye rolling and they’ll stick there permanently.”

“I’d stop if you’d stop squeezing air, maybe.” Squeezing your breast in front of a guy you had met on the same day in a setting like this wasn’t exactly on your bucket list. Had you known it would get you this hot, you might have jotted it down on paper.

“Alright,” Eddie said lightly, adding a second hand now to rub up and down his chest. When he made a show of rubbing his thumbs over his nipples, which you were surprised to see poking through his club t-shirt, the softest noise escaped his lips. You smirked as he looked a little panicked, clearly not intending to let it out. Just as he wanted to move away from his chest to save himself the embarrassment, you let out a gentle hum of your own.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered, his eyes darkening. You briefly wondered how high the chances of anyone coming in unexpectedly were. Hopefully Eddie knew. He rubbed his chest more vigorously, his thumbs grazing his nipples, wishing for the movements to release more sounds out of you. He no longer cared as much for the noises he made himself, as his focus was on you. The soft hums, soft moans. It was at that moment that he dared to move his hand down to palm himself through his pants. Eyes blown out with lust watched your hand travel down as well.

“You touching yourself?” he asked softly, his other hand squeezing his peck through his shirt.

“Depends… are you? I’m copying you after all, like you said. All I can see is that you moved your hand down in your lap.”

A low chuckle rumbled up in his chest and he nodded.

“I am. Though… can’t exactly copy me there, now can you?”

“Not exactly, no. But we worked it out for our chests too, didn’t we?”

Eddie nodded, a groan escaping his lips as he let his thumb find the head of his cock but realizing once again that these aesthetically tight jeans were very inconvenient at times like these.

“Mhm. So. Are you?”

Your hand cupped your mound through your jeans, which didn’t really do much for you, but you nodded nonetheless. For a moment, all you did was stare at each other as you silently dealt with the lack of feeling through both of your jeans.

“Fuck it,” Eddie mumbled, reaching down with his other hand as well to unbuckle his belt and shove his hand down his pants. It took some willpower to not immediately dive into his boxers as well.

“Get inside your jeans,” he ordered, his voice low.

“How do we ask nicely?” you teased. Eddie moaned softly as he ran his thumb over the wet spot of his boxers where the head strained against it and smirked.

“Jus’ wanna make sure you feel good baby.”

“Hm. Fair enough,” you shrugged, as if you weren’t dying to shove your hand down your pants at this point. Once your fingers grazed across the front of your panties, a whimper escaped you. Shit. You were wetter than you expected and couldn’t help but blush at the realization.

“You make such pretty sounds,” Eddie commented softly before adding a moan of his own to the mix. “Kinda wanna… find out what sounds you’d make for me.”

“Hmm… what would you like to do to me?” you asked, your voice spreading like silk over the table before it reached his ears. Eddie bit down on his lip and sighed slowly.

“So many things, sweetheart. But… I’d taste you first. Go down on you and make you roll your eyes back for good reason.”

“Sounds confident.”

“‘Cause it’s a promise.”

Your eyes met again and you mirrored his expression without trying. His mouth stood agape, brows knit together as he felt himself, hand wrapped lightly around his length determined to drag it out as long as he could. You were playing with your clit, alternating it with sliding down your lips to spread your wetness all around. Moans came easier now, mingled with each other. Everything outside of you and the table separating you both seemed to disappear as you continued to stimulate yourselves.

Without removing his hand, Eddie got up out of his chair and rounded the table. You met him halfway. His free hand grabbed the back of your neck to pull you in for a bruising kiss, layered with lust and need. Your tongues danced together in a battle for dominance while he replaced the hand in your pants with his own. His fingers found your sensitive spots effortlessly, thumb working your clit as he pumped his fingers inside. He nudged down your jeans until they were halfway down your thighs and you did the same to him along with his boxers and wrapped your hand around his cock. He buckled inside your hand and a sweet whine escaped him as he desperately started to move.

You tried to drown your moans into your kisses but he moved away to nip at your neck instead.

“Wanna hear you baby,” he murmured against your neck, licking along the side while leaving soft nibbles in between. You threw your head back and moaned, louder than anticipated and when you whispered something along the lines of “oh shit”, he chuckled.

“You’re so cute. So cute and pretty. When you blew on those dice— fuck.”

“Yeah what was that about, huh?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips until they formed an “O” when Eddie started rubbing your clit faster.

“Just needed some luck.”

“Still feeling lucky?” you asked, leaning back to meet his eyes. You jerked him off faster and judging how much effort went into responding to you, you knew he was close.

“Y-Yeah, I think so, why?” he asked as he tried to still his hips.

“Fuck me.”

Eddie grinned darkly and smashed his lips onto yours.

“Fuck yes.”

In one swift move he pushed any lingering clutter off the table and lifted you up on it, pushing you down with his body so you would lay down. He removed your jeans and panties and spread your legs as he kneeled down before you.

“Need a taste.”

With the flat of his tongue he licked a long stripe upwards, moaning against your cunt as he lapped up the juices that his fingers had spread around. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently before circling around it with his tongue. Your hand tugged on his hair not so gently and the vibration of his moans sent your juices flowing. Before he could get lost in eating you out, you pulled him back up by his hair.

“C’mon Eddie, please.”

“Pretty girl needs me so bad, huh?” he cooed teasingly. You slapped his arm affectionately and he grinned.

“As if your cock isn’t quivering at the mere thought of getting some. You can make me roll my eyes back for good reason some other time.”

“That a promise?” Eddie asked, a little too honest and a little less confident with the way he cupped your cheek and gazed down at you with his pretty brown eyes.

“Mhm, if you’re good.”

Eddie smiled and fished out his wallet and swiftly wrapped a condom around himself. He leaned down, kissing you a little sweeter than he had before and you felt the head nudging your opening. As his tongue licked into your mouth, he bottomed out inside you and you gasped pleasantly. Where it had started with a burning fire surging inside you both, currently it felt like the urgency had gone. There was no rush, yet enough desire and as soon as Eddie picked up the pace, your moans filled the echoing room again.

“That’s it baby, that’s it. Fuck you feel so good. Jesus H. you’re— oh shit.”

You grasped at his back, nails digging into his skin as your hands were buried under his t-shirt. Eddie’s hands were on your hips, pushing you back onto his cock with each thrust as his lips sloppily kissed yours to drown out the loudest moans.

“‘M close, you close?” he grunted, watching in satisfaction as you nodded, words no longer coming to you in favor of your sweet moans. He nodded in understanding, kissing your cheek quickly before pounding into you harder. You were both so lost in each other that you didn’t notice the door opening.

“Hey Y/N, your car is in the parking lot so— Jesus CHRIST! NO. NO! What?! I knew it, I knew it. Gross. You’re gross! I can’t believe— with my cousin, Eddie? With Eddie of all people, Y/N?! This is too much too—”

Eddie scrambled you up against him, trying to shield your exposed parts as well as he could when he looked over your shoulder at Dustin in horror. It all happened so quickly that by the time you looked over your shoulder, you could already see the door closing again as Dustin fled.

“Oh shit. I should— I have to— He’s gonna be so upset—” you stammered, wanting to move but staying still as you still very much had Eddie’s cock buried deep inside you. Eddie shook his head, nipping at your neck with needy kisses.

“He’ll still be consolable later, I won’t be though if we stop right now. Please.”

“Eddie.”

“Baby, sweetheart. Please,” he pleaded. “I really wanna,” he moved out halfway and thrusted back in slowly, “...make you feel so good.”

You bit down a smile and kissed him eagerly as he picked up his pace again, gently letting you back down so he could use both his hands to grab your hips. It didn’t take long before you both reached your highs, his hips stuttering as your walls clenched around him, desperate moans meeting desperate kisses. You rode out your orgasms until he pulled you back up in a hug, smoothing his hands over your back as the table wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing to lay down upon, he remembered from a solo session.

“So… will you be joining again next week baby?” he murmured against your cheek, leaving a kiss with his words.

“I don’t think I’ll be allowed in here after traumatizing Dustin like that,” you smirked.

“Lucky for us I’m the Dungeon Master,” he quipped with a grin that matched yours. His hand lovingly cupped your cheek to steal a kiss from your lips. You hummed in thought.

“How about… you take me to dinner after the meeting and we find a place more uhm, comfortable and a little more private?”

Eddie smiled and gave you a nod.

“Sounds like a plan.”

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things fanfics

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