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#also a man sacrifices his flesh for his son too

sepublic · 12 days

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There's something just so romantic and domestic about Geode to me... Geo having to take care of his kids on his own, and then the universe literally drops the coolest, baddest husband he could ever imagine right on his doorstep one day. He's the dude who helped resolve the Geckle/Munce conflict that led to Geo being unwanted in the first place. He's the son of Lilly, whom Geo would've heard stories about.

And I love how Cole could've easily just moved on, because he needs to find his fellow ninja for like. The greater good or whatever. But he can't just leave anyone behind, especially people who are forgotten for whatever 'justifications' are offered. That's why Cole's a hero, because no innocent lives are acceptable as sacrifices. He's a bleeding heart who cares too much to look past it, he promised his mother to stand up to those who are cruel and unjust, for those who are hurt and downtrodden. He will always consider the little guy.

Just imagine Cole making that decision, announcing it to the finders that he's going to stay. Imagine Geo's reaction. Imagine Geo not letting himself get too attached at first because he'll be gone, and then he hangs around after all. Cole didn't know how long he'd be here but ninja never quit, as long as there's people in danger he owes it to them to help, even if it kills him.

The domestic vibes of them looking after the kids together, watching them, coordinating the family. The fact that the land of lost things always has this perpetual romantic sunset going on. It's just them, their kids, and this rampaging death machine that is technically the reason they got together in the first place, because without it Cole might've continued with his journey.

And you think Geo was just a little bit worried when it was 'over', when Sora and Nya helped to resolve that issue. Cole had no more reason to stay and protect them, plus he even has a new call to action from his old master! Back to being a hero, back to the times before them. At least there's no rampaging death machine anymore, and Geo chides himself for being selfish, he should be grateful his kids are safe and Cole is reunited with his REAL family...

AND THEN HE COMES BACK!!! COLE COMES BACK AND REMEMBERS!!! He knows what it's like to be lost and forgotten, or at least feel that way, so he'll never forget.

Man, out of all of the ninja who got scattered in the Merge, Cole's whereabouts feel the most satisfying and fleshed out, the way they tie back to his character arc and themes and motifs, his past, everything. Zane was in The Egg, Jay was with the Administration (which IS interesting but also a new development), Kai and Nya had their own things and Lloyd struggled to be the lone ninja, which is also fitting. But with Cole, it just feels all so right and even a way to end off his character's decade-plus arc, I love it. You can tell the writers really care about Cole.

#ninjago #ninjago geo #cole brookstone #ninjago dragons rising #geodeshipping #lostshipping

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geeky-politics-46 · 10 months

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Sacrifices - Part 3

Click here to read Sacrifices - Part 1 & Part 2

Pairing: Doctor Stephen Strange x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You & Stephen finally get some alone time together, & you all start to settle in your new life together until Steve has something important to tell you.

Warnings: lots of smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - language, mild angst, reference to injuries, complicated feelings about cheating, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering

Some slight canon divergence. Based on a request from @magnificentfurybluebird. The next part will cover the events of WandaVision & FATWS.

You could tell Vincent was having second thoughts about the overnight when you got back to where Wong and Stephen were waiting. It had been a long, stressful day for all of you. You were nearly ready to say forget the whole thing until you saw the way Stephen was eyeing you, and you realized just how much you really did need your alone time with him.

"Alright baby, be good for Uncle Wong. You know you can call at any time if you need me. We will see you in the morning after breakfast. Love you, sweetie. Have fun."

You gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Sending him to go over and get a hug and kiss from Stephen too. Wong took his little hand and seeing the pout on his face whispered loud enough for you and Stephen to hear.

"Trust me it will be more fun at Kamar-Taj. You don't want to be here when they get all mushy. I've seen it. It's gross. Besides, we've got candy."

That made Vincent giggle, and he happily walked through the portal into the courtyard of Kamar-Taj, the moon already sitting high in the dark night sky dotted with stars. Your little boy did not even stop to wave as he headed off.

Stephen walked up behind and wrapped his arms around your waist. His suit jacket and tie had been shed while you were getting Vincent ready to go. He ducked down so his face was nuzzling into your neck. Already leaving kisses on your sensitive skin. His fingertips digging into and kneading the flesh of your hips and belly.

You let your head drop back onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. Focusing on the smell of Stephen's cologne.

"So I'm thinking we share a nice long soak in the tub with a bottle of wine, then we break in those brand new sheets on our bed. We can spend the whole night making that bedroom ours again. If I remember correctly, the couch and the dresser also have some fond memories we can recreate."

A soft sigh falling at the ideas. Honestly, as much as you wanted Stephen, a long hot bath sounded incredible on its own. All it took was a nod and a little moan to communicate how perfect that sounded.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself already standing in the master bathroom. Staring back into Stephen's mischievous blue eyes through the mirror. Letting him undress you before telling you to run the bath while he went to get the wine.

By the time he got back with the bottle and two glasses, you had already climbed into the warm water. Already starting to feel much more relaxed as you sipped your wine and watched your husband undress.

"Enjoying the show?"

You hadn't looked away for a single second while Stephen removed the rest of his clothes. Studying each new expanse of bare flesh that came into view. Until now, you had only gotten glimpses of him as he changed. So far, your son had been clinging to one or both of you, preventing you from really enjoying having Stephen back romantically. Now you were getting to see every square inch.

"Very much so. Forgot how much of a fine specimen of man you are, Doctor. I'm a very lucky woman to call you mine."

You snuggled back into his chest once he had joined you in the tub and reflected on the day. It had been long and full of sadness, but you also felt weirdly hopeful at the future that lay before you. Pepper and Morgan were holding up okay, and you were looking forward to rekindling your friendship with Pepper. Honestly, Happy seemed to be the one who had the hardest time during the service.

You were also glad that Stephen had a chance to clear the air with Steve. You weren't expecting them to go out for a beer together anytime in the near future, but their conversation could have gone much worse. You knew Steve would be a gentleman, and you knew that he always knew your heart still belonged to your husband, but Stephen didn't like to share his toys. Stephen was the one you had been worried about flying off the handle.

"You know I dreamt of you almost every single night during those 5 years?"

He unwrapped his arms from around you momentarily and grabbed a bottle of body wash. Pouring some in his hand before working to spread it down your arms and chest. After a moment, he responded very matter of factly.

"Those weren't dreams darling, most of them anyway. It was me trying to communicate with you. When Thanos snapped, we didn't just disappear. We were somewhere else. In another dimension, or at least our souls and minds were. Most people don't seem to remember it. For them, it felt like they were gone for mere seconds. Even Wanda and some of the other sorcerers I've spoken to since only have slightly more memory of that place, of how long we were actually there. I could feel time passing. That's when I started trying to reach out to you. In particular, after I realized you would have already had our son. I wanted so badly to be with you. I figured out before long that because of Vincent, our souls were still connected. So I called out to you whenever I could. When you were asleep, you almost always heard me. I wouldn't be surprised if you asked Clint, and he said he had similar dreams about his family. They just probably don't remember calling out to him. So everyone else will write them off as just dreams, but they weren't. They were real. I was one of the few who could manipulate my surroundings, though, so I always tried to make it look like somewhere else. Somewhere, we could talk about happier things. I didn't like seeing you sad."

You weren't even surprised by a good chunk of what you heard anymore. This was one of those times. In reality, you had always hoped that somehow your dreams were Stephen trying to contact you. To find a way to be with you. During the blip, you tried to keep yourself from believing it, even if you knew it might be possible. If you let yourself believe it, then you knew you never would have even tried to move on. Not that you got very far.

"What about the dreams I had where you had a ponytail? Or there were a couple where you had no goatee, and your cloak was the most beautiful shade of blue. It matched your eyes so well. Not that you don't look amazing in the red cloak, and everything really."

He smiled and even giggled, nearly choking on the sip of wine he had taken when you mentioned him with a ponytail. Of all his questionable life and style choices, he was pleased to say that was never one he had ever considered.

"Those were just dreams. If I ever decide to grow a ponytail, I think it's safe to assume I'm having some sort of mid-life crisis. You and Wong are free to set up some sort of intervention."

You took some of the body wash in your hand and pulled one of Stephen's hands into yours. Massaging the joints and tracing over his scars. Leaving a kiss on each knuckle. Sometimes, after a long day, you knew his hands got a little stiff and achy. He also definitely wasn't as used to carting around your son as you were.

"How are your hands feeling? You were holding Vincent a lot today."

He flexed and contracted his fingers into a fist a few times. The warm water of the bath had taken care of most of the discomfort he had been feeling. In all honesty, his hands hurt to at least some extent on most days, but there were some things that always made them feel better. Having his hands on you was one of them.

"Why don't I show you how my hands are feeling?"

Stephen let his fingers fall from your caressing touch and sink under the water. One hand drew small shapes and patterns on the skin of your low belly. The other hand kept moving down to your thigh, his long fingers dipping down to the inside of your leg stroking the skin there. His touch imploring you to spread your legs for him. Which you happily obliged.

He whispered 'good girl' into your ear when he felt your legs move without him prompting. A little high-pitched moan fell from your lips at his praise. You had always loved it when Stephen called you his good girl, and he loved how you always preened at his praise. The smallest compliment from him whispered in your ear, turning you to putty in his hands.

When his fingertips began caressing the crease of your hip but not going any further before moving across your pubic mound to repeat the action on the other side, you were whimpering for him to do more. When he pulled his hand up and let his fingers rest on your pubic bone, a dark chuckle came from deep in his chest when your hips started to roll on their own. Trying to push his hand between your legs.

Your nails dug into his muscular thighs as each second felt like an hour. In all of the time he had been gone, you had never wanted or needed your husband's touch as much as you did right then.

"Stephen, please. Do you have to tease me tonight? I can feel how hard you are and how bad you want me. I want you even more. Please touch me, Stephen. I need you. I've needed you for so long."

His own self-restraint nearly failed at your begging. Especially when you mentioned you could feel him. He had been trying to behave, but clearly, you knew where his brain had been since he got you naked. Before he took you to bed, he wanted to hear you make all the little noises he had missed.

"Did you ever think about this while I was gone? About my hands on you? Pretend your own fingers were mine? I bet you thought about it in the tub, just like we are right now. I know how relaxed the warm water makes you. Did you touch yourself and think of me?"

All you could do was whimper and nod as you relaxed farther into his chest. You had thought about it many, many times while Stephen was gone. The only person you ever fantasized about for nearly the entire five years was your husband. No one else could even turn your head for the longest time.

He was pleased with how quickly you began to nod. Keeping the heel of his hand pressed on your pubic bone, he let his fingers start to move down and tease at your sex. Using his middle and ring fingers to stroke your outer lips up and down. Avoiding touching your clit completely. He could feel your skin was now getting warmer than the water around you. He wanted you nice and wound up as he intended on spending all night working on you.

"Did you tease yourself like I am right now? Or were you so needy you went right for that pretty clit and that tight little hole? You get so wet so fast when you're all horny baby. Bet you are already dripping."

He moved his middle finger to stroke up your slit. Letting it dip into your warm channel to feel just how slick you were for him. He was not disappointed by what he felt. Your warm sticky fluids easily coated his fingertip. Part of him wished you weren't in the tub so he could get a good taste of you without the potential of it being watered down. The thought of your taste on his tongue again made his mouth water. He made a mental note to wake you up in the morning with his tongue.

God, he had missed touching you. Feeling you. Not just like this, but definitely like this. Like only he knew how. Call it being pompous, but he knew that the Captain could never elicit the same responses from you that he did. The super soldier could never know your body the way he did. He hated the thought of another man pleasuring you, but he relished the thought that you still found yourself fantasizing about him when you touched yourself.

Stephen slowly let his middle finger start to draw lazy circles around your clit. Still avoiding direct pressure but massaging you enough that the deeper nerves around it were being stimulated. Making it so when he finally did stroke the engorged bundle of nerves you would be on the verge of shattering from a single touch. Occasionally letting his finger dip back down to probe inside you. Never more than a couple thrusts. Just enough to get you going. Pulling out when he felt you starting to clench around him.

His other hand moved up to paw at your breasts. Gently tugging at one nipple then the other. Feeling them pebble against the cool air in contrast to the warmth of the water and Stephen's touch. At this point, you were trying to turn around in his arms to face him. Patience was never your strong suit, and right now, he could tell you were itching to get him into bed under the covers so you could enjoy him as much as he was enjoying you.

"I'm not letting you out of this tub until you cum for me. Do you understand? I can tell you want to take this to the bedroom, to have me fuck you and make love to you, but I have five years of missed orgasms to make up for. So you are gonna be good and let me play with you just a little bit longer."

Your body went slack against his as you whispered a soft "Yes, sir" into the side of his neck. Surrendering to him completely. You had missed his dominant side in bed. That was one area where Steve had been very much a novice, leaving you in charge more often than not. You craved the feeling of being told what to do.

Yes, you were craving soft, sweet sex with your husband too, but right now, the animal part of your brain was in charge, and that part of you wanted to be manhandled. In order to be good, you braced your hands on the edge of the tub. Your fingers quickly showed just how tight you were gripping the porcelain, and in turn just how close Stephen had you to cumming.

Your moans and whimpers getting louder with each passing second. Music to Stephen's ears. After a few more minutes of toying with you. Feeling your wetness grow until you were dripping even beneath the water of the bathtub. He devoted his attention to your clit.

His thumb stroking the bundle of nerves as he buried his long index and middle finger deep inside you. Curling them upward when he felt your cunt start convulsing and squeezing him tight. He couldn't wait to feel the same thing around his cock again. Smiling at the beautiful sight of your back arched and your breasts breaching up through the water of the tub as you climaxed.

After letting you rest for a moment, your breath finally coming back to you as Stephen nuzzled into your neck and held you in his arms, he reached over to grab one of the large fluffy towels he had set nearby. The water in the tub now tepid, and your skin was starting to get goosebumps from the cool air.

You reached to pull the drain plug and slowly started to stand on somewhat wobbly legs. Stephen stood up with you. Holding onto you as you stepped onto the cold tile bathroom floor and making sure you didn't fall. He started to dry both of you with a large soft towel. Alternating back and forth between your two bodies, making sure to dry your hair as well. Placing kisses on your bare skin and silently holding you as he dried you.

Once you were both mostly dry, he threw the towel to the side and scooped you into his arms. Your bare bodies effectively kept each other warm as he carried you to your shared bed. Just as he had on your wedding night. The bedspread and top sheet were already magically pulled back. Something Stephen no doubt did while you were still in a post-orgasm fog.

He laid you down softly on the gigantic bed and quickly joined you. Pulling the covers up over your waists to keep you warm while you took your time with foreplay, even though both of you were already excited enough, you both wanted to make this an event. You wanted this night to make up for everything you two had missed together, or at the very least, get a good headstart on it, so that meant no rushing whatsoever.

So you let yourselves lay there in each other's arms, kissing and caressing every inch of each other's flesh except where you both craved it most. Holding out until you couldn't stand it any longer.

"Stephen, please, make love to me. I need to feel you inside of me so badly. I can't wait any longer."

Stephen carefully rolled you onto your back and smiled down at you adoringly. His body already slotted perfectly between your legs. The feeling of his hard cock against your dripping cunt making your hips thrust gently against him. Aching for any friction you could get against your throbbing clit.

Your actions pulled a low growl from his throat as he leaned down to nip at your pouting bottom lip. He knew this first round probably wouldn't last terribly long. He was so desperate to finally feel you again after all that time. The fact that you were so desperate for him to guarantee he wouldn't be able to control himself for long.

He let the tip of his cock gently start to prod at your hole. You cunt fluttering in response to his teasing.

"Does that feel good, baby? Do you want more? Do you know how hard it's been these last few days, with your perfect body so close and we couldn't do anything? All I could think about was this perfect little pussy. Not sure my cock has ever been this hard baby. All for my beautiful wife. Even more beautiful now than the last time we were right here in this bed together."

He leaned down to kiss you once more before letting his forehead rest on yours as he finally pushed inside you. Your nails clawing into his back at feeling of finally being filled by him again. The thought of finally having your husband inside you again after losing him for five years bringing tears to your eyes.

Stephen stopped in place, completely sheathed inside of you when he saw the tear trickle down your cheek. He wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting you in any way and that nothing was wrong. He shushed you gently as he wiped the tear away with his thumb. Leaving a kiss on the dampened skin, it left behind.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? We can stop if we need to. We don't have to…"

You cut him off with a firm kiss and a warm, bright smile. Reassuring him that you did want to keep going and that your tears were actually of joy.

"Stephen, of course, I want to keep going. Don't you dare stop. It's just that for the first time in five years, I feel whole again. Right here, right now. I have my missing piece back where it belongs. Now please start moving, baby, and don't be gentle. I want to really feel you."

Your lips crashed together as he obeyed your command. Pulling nearly completely out of you before slamming his hips forward again. The headboard knocked into the wall with the force. Keeping a slow pace but making sure each time he thrust into you was hard and deep. Exactly how you wanted it.

Stephen buried his head in the crook of your neck as he fucked you. One of your hands was buried in his thick dark hair as the other clung to his shoulder. The speed of his thrusts increasing as you whispered all the filthy thoughts you had kept inside for so long. Dreaming of this moment.

"Never stopped thinking of you. Of how good you fuck me, Stephen. Of how perfect your cock feels. Of how it feels when you cum inside me. I craved to be full of your cum again. I swear I'm never going more than a day without your cock again."

You could feel him frantically nod against your skin in between bites and kisses. You knew you might have a hickey or two to hide tomorrow, but you couldn't have cared less. A deep moan pulled from your chest as Stephen found just the right angle inside you. Your legs moved to wrap around him, and you started grinding against him.

"Oh fuck, Stephen, faster please. You're gonna make me cum. Cum with me baby. Fill me up. Please cum in me, Stephen."

Your words sent Stephen careening over the edge into his own climax. Feeling your cunt milk his cock he swore he would hold to your promise. Even after both of you had come down from your orgasms, you stayed exactly as you were. Neither of you wanted to pull apart until you absolutely had to.

Not that there was much point in separating anyway. You both knew that this was just the first round of several that night, and many back in your own bed with the man you loved. The man you waited for and would always want. Your Stephen. Your husband.

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You didn't know how much sleep you and Stephen managed to get in between your amorous romps, but it wasn't much. Neither of you cared, though. You were both plenty happy to spend the next day a bit tired. There was five years of fucking and love making to make up for.

The sing-song of the birds outside the bedroom window was what woke both of you. It was much nicer than your normal wake-up call of a blaring alarm or a hungry hyper child. You let yourself bask in the relaxed environment for a little bit longer. Relishing the feel of waking up in your husband's arms in your shared bed again. A bed you hadn't slept in for so long. Knowing soon that Wong would be bringing Vincent back.

Your husband had a different idea, though. Stephen's hands quickly found your body, and his lips found your neck, like you were connected by magnets. He was no less voracious than he had been the entire night before.

"Stephen, we don't have long before Vincent gets back. Don't you wanna sleep in a little longer?"

You already knew the answer as you could already feel his cock hard against your ass. His hips grinding forward gently, making sure you knew what he wanted.

"I'd much rather spend that time fucking my beautiful wife. Why don't you let me wake you up a little more. You just lay there and enjoy it, darling."

Stephen dove under the covers and began kissing his way down your naked body. Stopping to suckle briefly on both nipples before continuing his trek to end up with his head between your thighs. Just as he laced his arms under your legs and descended onto your inner thighs, you heard your phone buzz. Groaning as you reached over to grab it, having a sneaking suspicion, you knew exactly who it was.

Sure enough, it was a text from Wong:

Is it safe?

Trying not to giggle as you read it out loud to Stephen, who still had not stopped nipping at your hip bones from under the covers. Trying even harder not to fall apart laughing when Stephen yelled from beneath the blankets that he was gonna need somewhere between 30 minutes to an hour. Kissing over your pubic mound and sucking the sensitive skin so close to your pussy.

Before you lost all composure, you quickly typed out a message and hit send. Not bothering to read back what you wrote before throwing the phone back on the nightstand just in time. Your brain turning to goo when you felt Stephen's tongue pressed flat against you licking up over your entire cunt.

Your back arched, and your fingers gripped the sheets, a loud moan pulled from your chest. His mouth closing around your clit and sucking lightly before releasing it. The feeling of his mouth on you was heavenly. The scruff of his goatee making you even more sensitive.

You couldn't help the little whimper that fell from your lips when you felt his mouth leave your skin. Only to start moaning even louder when he started lapping at you with ferocity. His own little growls, sending vibrations all the way up your spine.

Eventually, he began to tease you in the way he knew would have begging for more. Alternating long licks with sucking on your clit. His tongue never stopping. A single finger barely grazing your slit. Stroking over and over as drew little circle with his tongue.

A tingling had started building in your low belly, your orgasm coming faster than you would have expected. Although, you had always been amazed at how good Stephen was with his mouth. Suddenly you were pulled from your impending high when he stopped all his movements completely and pulled his mouth off of your needy cunt.

"Stephen, why did you stop?!"

You couldn't keep the pout out of your voice. He knew how close you were, and he knew he had you right where he wanted you. He kissed his way up between your breasts. A Chesire cat grin on his face when it popped up from beneath the covers. His hair tousled, and his blue eyes dark with lust.

"I said I was going to wake you up. I never said anything about letting you cum. If you ask nicely I bet I can make you cum another way. Do you still want to go back to sleep darling? Or should we use our time differently?"

He had positioned himself perfectly so when he began to softly rock his hips forward his cock was sliding between your wet folds. Coating him in your arousal and riling you up even more. Your legs spread even more trying to get as much stimulation as you possibly could.

Every nerve was alight, and you felt incredible. Completely absorbed in the moment and your husband. Your amazing husband was the only man who could make you feel this way. You were sure of it. You needed more, and you knew he wanted more.

"Fuck me Stephen. Fuck me and make me cum. Please."

He growled when he heard you begging. It had to be one of the most beautiful sounds in the universe. He sat back on his heels and pulled your legs up over his shoulders. Getting you into exactly the position he wanted. Hunger in his gaze as he took in every inch of bare flesh before him.

Reaching between you he positioned his cock right at your opening. A devious smile on his face as he gave you clit a sharp little slap. A loud groan escaping your lips as they sensation shot through you. He grabbed your hips with both hands and you could tell he intended to set a fast rough pace this time.

"That's it, baby. I want you to be nice and loud right now. Let's enjoy our last little bit of alone time to its fullest extent. I want you to be screaming my name by the rune we are done."

It was a very good thing. Wong had seen your text response and decided to give you two hours instead. He knew what your garbled response meant, and he had no intention of walking in on it.

Stephen says another half hour to an hoursdbmpng.

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After his shower, Stephen was surprised to find you downstairs, busy in the Sanctum's kitchen. The smell of eggs and his favorite chocolate chip pancakes practically carrying him down the stairs like a cartoon. His heart practically burst out of his chest when he saw you fully absorbed in your cooking and humming a song to yourself. You looked like a dream come true, a dream he never knew he wanted until you.

"It smells incredible in here. When did you learn to cook so well? I remember you messing up toast."

He came up and wrapped his arms around your waist as you carried the last couple pancakes over the island and added them to the sizable stack you had already made. You were used to having to feed not only a growing child but a super soldier and an assassin. You were gonna have to relearn how to cook for just the three of you, maybe four with Wong.

"You can thank Pepper for most of it. Actually, you can thank Nat and Steve, too. After seeing Nat nearly burn the compound down and tasting most of the recipes Steve learned back in the great depression I didn't have much choice."

Stephen chuckled with his face buried against the skin of your neck in between soft kisses. Just when he thought you were already the perfect wife, you suddenly found a way to get even more incredible. He didn't expect to come back to his very own perfect little housewife.

Truth be told, deep down in his chest, he feared he would come back to no wife at all. That you would have moved on with your life. Happier without him. He wouldn't have blamed you, but he was grateful to the fates that you had held out hope for him. Hope in him.

"You have no idea how sick I got of peanut butter sandwiches in those first few months."

Stephen turned you around in his arms and pressed your low back into the counter. He pressed his body as firm to yours as he could manage without actually pushing you onto the counter. His arms around your waist and yours instinctively looping around his neck. Toying with the still slightly damp tendrils of hair at the base of his skull.

"Well, I will never get sick of anything you make or anything about you. I love you. God, I missed you so much."

His lips were back on yours and once again full of passion and hunger. His tongue quickly sneaking into your mouth. You could still taste the mint from his toothpaste. Instinctively, you pulled even closer and forgot everything, but the man wrapped in your arms, kissing you breathless.

You and Stephen completely missed the sound of a portal opening. Only to be snapped from your make-out session when Wong cleared his throat. Looking over, you found him rolling his eyes and covering your son's eyes with his hand. A light blush dusted your cheeks at the realization you had been caught.

"Excuse me, but there is now a child present, and the Sorcerer Supreme. So tongues in your own mouths, if you please."

Stephen huffed and rolled his eyes at both the mention of Wong now being Sorcerer Supreme and that he had to stop kissing you. He still had so much lost time to make up for. You had to fight the urge to giggle at how he and Wong fell right back into their normal Odd Couple back and forth as if a day hadn't passed. Some things apparently never change.

"Hey sweetie, were you good for Uncle Wong? Didn't cause too much trouble, I hope."

Your son ran over and hugged you tight. Your hand finger combing through his thick dark brown hair. His bright blue eyes that mirrored Stephen's looking up at you as he excitedly started telling you about his evening with Wong.

"No, Mama. I was good. I helped Uncle Wong teach class!"

An exaggerated surprised expression on your face at his news. Stephen's eyebrows genuinely quirked up in interest at the idea that his son was already learning the mystic arts. Vincent loved helping Wong with his duties and classes. Not that he did much other than follow him around, but Wong was very good at making him feel like he was contributing a lot.

"He was a very good assistant. A very good listener, too. He must get that from his mother. I look forward to the day I can really start teaching him."

Your son beamed at Wong's compliment and turned around to give him a little bow, which Wong returned. Very excited at the idea that he could someday learn the mystic arts from his Uncle Wong. He was smart as a whip, and given that he was Stephen's son, you both had no doubt that when that time came, he would pick it up quickly. You were also both pleased that Vincent seemed much less intent on challenging every authority figure the way Stephen did. He took more after you, the teacher's pet, and for that, Wong was thrilled.

Not that Wong didn't respect Stephen as a sorcerer, but Stephen from day one had a tendency to do things before he was ready. Or, according to Wong, before fully reading through a spell all the way to the warnings. He was prideful and still had a tendency to be vain. You had heard Wong tell him over and over to consider all sides before acting and that it wasn't about how fast he could learn something.

In the time you had known him Stephen had worked to humble himself, and made significant strides in earning the responsibility and respect he had gotten, but you couldn't help but notice how much the fact he was no longer Sorcerer Supreme seemed to be bothering him. You would have to talk to him about it tonight. Try to get him to see the upsides. Especially since it meant he could spend more time with you and Vincent. See if you couldn't get him to not pout about Wong having the higher duties now.

Vincent reached out to tug on the bottom of Stephen's shirt to get his attention.

"Daddy, you're supposed to bow for the Sorcerer Supreme. That's Uncle Wong."

Your son tried to helpfully inform Stephen, much to his chagrin. You could see his teeth clench even though he tried to keep his facial expression neutral. Of course, it was whisper-yelled as children tend to do. So both you and Wong heard everything loud and clear.

"I'm aware of the customs… Let's go put your bag down, shall we?"

Stephen quickly tried to change the topic so his son wouldn't make him bow to Wong. Wong was busy grinning proudly when Stephen walked Vincent past him and over to the table to help him with his backpack. You walked over to give Wong a quick hug and a thank you for giving you and Stephen the night to yourselves.

"I am always in your debt, Wong. You are truly a life saver and hands down the best babysitter ever. Do you want to stay for breakfast?"

Wong happily returned the hug and smiled. He had always been softer with you than with Stephen. Partly because he knew it would get under Stephen's skin, but partly because you were always so warm and good-hearted with him. You genuinely tried to help where you could and would go out of your way to make someone's day better. Wong respected you immensely for that. So he always felt happy to return the gesture.

"You know I am always happy to help, my friend. He genuinely is a pleasure to have around. I mean it about teaching him when he's a bit older. I have no doubt he will be gifted. I must head back to Kamar-Taj, however, so I will take a rain check on breakfast."

He bid everyone a quick goodbye and opened the portal back to Kamar-Taj, turning back to wave bye to Vincent one final time before closing it behind him. Vincent is now sitting in his normal spot at the small kitchen table. Stephen standing next to him.

You moved back to the counter to start bringing plates full of food over to the table, you knew that even if your son had eaten at Kamar-Taj he would still want pancakes if you and Stephen were eating.

As Stephen took the plates from you and set them down on the table so you could finish getting the silverware, you heard him try to strike up a conversation with Vincent. You rolled your eyes a little when you heard the topic. Something you were definitely going to have to address later.

"You know, before you were born, I was the Sorcerer Supreme. Your dad was Sorcerer Supreme. Not your Uncle Wong."

Your son was hardly paying attention. Already having spotted the pancakes and stealing several from the stack. Somewhat messily sliding them onto his own plate before starting to frantically search for the syrup you had in your hand.

You leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Stephen's head to console him since it was now apparent Vincent had ignored him. Stephen pulled you down to sit in his lap as you reached over and quickly cut Vincent's pancakes before he could attempt to swallow them whole.

"Hey, how come he didn't tell you to bow to Wong?"

Stephen assumed Vincent still wasn't listening, but like any five year old, he chose the perfect opportune moment to check back into the conversation. Before you could say anything to distract Stephen and get him to a more upbeat topic, your son answered.

"She's mom. Uncle Wong says moms are even more powerful than the Sorcerer Supreme."

You giggled to yourself before looking over your shoulder at Stephen. Winking at him.

"And don't you forget it, Strange."

--------------------------------

You had put Vincent to bed several hours ago and you had retired to your bedroom. Already changed into an oversized night shirt and washed your face. Busy working on your to-do list for the next day and double-checking your calendar. The reading glasses you had started needing only a year prior perched on your face, and your hair pulled into a messy bun.

You were in full mom mode by the time Stephen came in to join you. Making notes about groceries, meal planning, and laundry. As well as other things you wouldn't have put too much thought in before you had a child. You hardly registered Stephen's presence until he commented on how he still wasn't used to your glasses.

"Is it weird that I find you even sexier in those reading glasses? I think they may be my favorite new thing about you since I got back. They are just so hot."

You snorted in amusement at his statement. Truthfully, you kind of liked them too, but the fact that they seemed to have such an effect on Stephen certainly pleased you. At his core, despite his hot shot reputation as a surgeon and then sorcerer, you knew deep down Stephen was a total nerd. Although, Steve had a similar reaction to your glasses, too. Maybe it was just something about the mom/librarian look.

Either way, you were happy about it. Of course, now that Stephen was done with his duties for the day, you wanted to talk to him about Wong before he distracted you with sex. Now was the perfect time.

"Stephen, can we talk about something, please? I know you are upset you aren't Sorcerer Supreme anymore. I know you are having a hard time with that, with Wong being Sorcerer Supreme now."

You watched as his gaze dropped, seeming to try and figure out how he wanted to respond. Whether he wanted to try and deny your claims or just go ahead and admit what you already knew.

You let him continue changing out of his robes and into his sweats in silence. Giving him time to answer on his own. When he was ready. You could see the gears turning behind his beautiful blue eyes.

"I'm not upset, I'm just… okay, I'm a little upset. I worked hard for that. I finally had a purpose again."

He sat down on the bed opposite you, now completely changed, and let his head fall. Studying his hands carefully. No doubt replaying the events that led him to becoming Sorcerer Supreme in the first place. All the feelings of inadequacy he had before finding his place in the world again. Before becoming a sorcerer. Before finding you.

"Baby, you still have purpose even if you aren't Sorcerer Supreme. You are still a hero. You are still the master of this Sanctum. You are still a husband and a father. I hope Vincent and I give you purpose anyway. Maybe this is a chance for you to make up for the time you missed. You said the other night you can't believe how much you missed with Vincent. Maybe the universe wanted to make it up to you by giving you more time with him now."

The speed of his response told you he wanted to avoid even an inkling of the possibility that you and Vincent weren't enough. He gave everything up to save you once before, and he would gladly do it again without hesitation. He was just having trouble with the fact that he couldn't pick everything up right where it left off. He felt behind, and he hated to admit that he felt that way both as a sorcerer and as a father.

"Of course you and Vincent give me purpose. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that for the first time since the accident, I was in control of something. I was good at it. You're right, though. I am happy it means I can spend more time with you and Vincent. I just hate answering to people and following instructions."

You knew that deep down, this wasn't about Wong at all. It was about Stephen feeling out of control. That was the root of a lot of his issues, actually. That didn't mean that it wasn't manifesting in a way that made it seem like it was about Wong, and that is the last thing you wanted. You wanted your son to see his father and his uncle, who helped raise him get along. Their playful jabs at each other were fine. In fact, it would be weird if they weren't making smartass comments to each other, but the line needed to be firmly drawn at anything that might seem like real resentment or anger.

"You know who the first person was to start telling Vincent about his dad? Wong. Months before I could even say your name without crying. Before he was old enough to even really understand anything. Wong would come to the compound and tell him all sorts of stories about his dad. The great sorcerer Doctor Stephen Strange. How you fought side by side. He even offered to let us stay at Kamar-Taj when I told him it was too painful for me to stay here without you. You and I both owe him a lot. That includes respecting him as the Sorcerer Supreme and following the customs at the very least when Vincent is around."

He seemed to pause and think for a moment. He knew Wong was well prepared to be Sorcerer Supreme and was undoubtedly the right choice for it after he had blipped. He also knew that Wong would take care of you and Vincent in his absence. At least that had been his hope. He was pleasantly surprised at the idea of Wong lovingly telling your teeny little baby all about the man who drove him up the wall from the moment he first stepped into the library at Kamar-Taj. He would cut Wong some extra slack for that.

"Yeah. You're right. I'll do better when Vincent is around. I'm not bowing when he isn't there, though."

There was a hint of teasing humor in his eyes, but at the same time, you knew he meant the last part. It seemed like a reasonable deal, though. Being a good role model for Vincent was one thing, but getting Stephen to let go of his stubborn streak would be a whole other can of worms.

"Stephen, the thing about a relationship with you that has most prepared me for being a mom is that it taught me that sometimes I have to pick my battles. I can work with that. Thank you."

Stephen crawled onto the bed and promptly started crawling all over you. Nuzzling into your neck and tickling your sides. Generally trying to be a little obnoxious and make you stop working on your to-do list and give him your undivided attention.

"You love me."

He said it in a light teasing voice that when paired with his other actions was stupidly adorable. You couldn't help but laugh at his antics. Throwing your to-do list to the side and setting your reading glasses on the nightstand to give Stephen the attention he wanted.

"Yes. I do love you very much, Stephen."

His lips quickly captured yours and his arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you down on the bed with him. Silly pecks slowly deepening into something more sensual. Your body naturally migrated to lay on top of Stephen's. His hands slowly moving down your back to grip the cheeks of your ass.

Your legs straddled him and your hips rolling against him gently as he kneaded the soft flesh. Both of you starting to get lost in each other just like the night before.

"Guess someone didn't get enough last night. Hmm?"

You purred to him in between kisses. You could feel him smile back at you. Gripping your flesh a little tighter.

"Never gonna get enough of you. Besides, we didn't have a chance last night for you to ride me like you know I love."

Your hips wiggled almost on their own at Stephen's declaration. Oh yes, of course you knew he loved it when you were on top. It was the reason three out of four of your bedroom walls had at least one mirror on them. So Stephen could watch you from multiple angles as you used him for your pleasure.

Just as you were starting to fully lose yourself in his kiss, looking forward to another busy night between the sheets from the sounds of things, your cellphone started to ring. Normally, under the current circumstances, you would have chosen to ignore it, but something deep in your gut told you that this call was important.

A look at the caller ID seemed to only intensify that feeling. It was Steve Rogers calling. Captain America never really did get the hang of texting, but if he was calling this late, you knew it was important.

--------------------------------

As you and Vincent entered the park, you immediately caught sight of Steve. What you didn't expect was for Bucky to be standing there talking with him.

You had only met Bucky twice before. The first time was in Wakanda right before the first battle with Thanos. The second time was at Tony's funeral. He looked much more put together now as he stood smiling with his best friend for decades than he did either of those times. Although, you probably did too.

"Uncle Steve!!!"

Nearly as soon as he saw him, Vincent let go of your hand and bolted towards Steve. Steve looked almost as excited to see him. A bright million watt smile on his face and his arms held wide, ready to scoop him up in a bear hug. Spinning around in circles as soon as Vincent launched himself into the Captain's arms.

Even Bucky was smiling and laughing softly watching Steve and Vincent interact. No doubt it was a side of Steve he didn't think he would ever get to see. Steve had told you that back before the war, he and Bucky had talked about wanting families. How they wanted their kids to grow up together, hopefully be best friends just like them. Neither of them ever got the chance, though. At least with Vincent, Steve got to experience some of what he missed out on. Bucky wasn't sure he would ever get even that much.

Once you finally got to where they were standing, Steve gave you a quick hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. Both of you fighting the urge to linger just a little longer in the familiar embrace. You loved Stephen more than words could say, but Steve would always hold a little piece of your heart for bringing you back to life when you felt like a ghost simply going through the motions of living. You would always hold a little piece of his, too.

Steve dutifully introduced you and Vincent to Bucky. He was still quiet and clearly nervous. You made the very conscious decision to hold out and offer your hand to him. To show him that you were not afraid of him, that you saw him as the person he was now. Not as the weapon Hydra had made him to be. Vincent, with the classic innocence of a child, had no need to make an effort. He was a friend of Uncle Steve's, and that's all he needed to know. One he had heard lots of stories about, too.

"You grew up with Uncle Steve, right? Are you that Bucky? You're his bestest friend."

Steve smiled brightly at Vincent's recollection of all the stories he had told him. Bucky seemed genuinely surprised that your son knew who he was and that he knew him as just Bucky, Steve's best friend. No shadow of the Winter Soldier taunting him.

"That's right. We've heard lots about Bucky Barnes. All the trouble you had to get Steve out of."

You chimed in to add a little context to what stories Vincent was talking about. Sure you heard about the trouble they caused together, and about the charms of the handsome young Bucky, but still a good amount of the stories all seemed to coalesce around Bucky saving Steve's behind in one way or another. You knew that was part of what had made Steve so determined to save his best friend from Hydra.

That and the fact that Steve felt Bucky wouldn't have ended up in the military if it hadn't been his big dream all along. Especially after learning that it appeared Bucky might have lied to him and even to his own family about enlisting, and that his Army ID number actually showed he may have been drafted instead. Steve had always wanted to fight, Bucky only wanted to fight to protect Steve. Steve wanted to go to war. Bucky merely got caught in the crosshairs.

"Mom, can I go play on the swings?"

Your son was already practically off and running even before you could give him permission. Steve quickly volunteered Bucky to go push him, somewhat to Bucky’s dismay. Before he could decline, Vincent had grabbed ahold of the bottom of his leather jacket and was leading him towards the playground. A slightly terrified look in his eye, but a shy smile on his lips at your son's exuberance. A trait Steve may have helped encourage.

Once they were a few steps away, Steve started to speak. His voice was soft and sweet, the way he always spoke to you.

"I'm glad you came. I imagine your husband wasn't thrilled about my invitation to meet alone."

"Yeah. Stephen isn't great at sharing. The fact that it's a public park made him feel better, I think. He still wanted to tag along, though. Luckily, Wong called him to Kamar-Taj for something."

Steve chuckled under his breath at the idea of Stephen following you to the park and pouting when he couldn't. He wouldn't have minded Stephen being there, really. He knew that the sorcerer would be able to keep his secret, but it was more personal this way. You knew secrets that even Bucky didn't know. It only made sense that you were one of the only people who knew about his plan. About his intention to go back to Peggy.

"Bruce fixed the return pad, and tomorrow I'm going to put all the infinity stones back from exactly when and where we got them. He said that someone called The Ancient One stressed how important this was."

The mention of The Ancient One snapped your attention away from Bucky and Vincent. You had wondered if she would be the keeper of the time stone. You knew when they were staging the time heist that Stephen wasn't yet a sorcerer during the battle of New York. He was still a practicing surgeon then. You couldn't help but wonder what she was like. Both Stephen and Wong spoke so highly of her. You were suddenly a bit jealous that Steve was going to meet her too.

"And, anyway, I just wanted to see you and Vincent again before I do. I also wanted to officially introduce Bucky to you. So he has another friend. Just in case, you know."

You watched him curiously. You could tell there was something he wasn't telling you. Steve Rogers was shit at lying, and he wasn't very good at not telling the whole truth either. He wouldn't have said that unless he really thought something might go wrong. A glint in his sky blue eyes told you exactly what you needed to know. In fact, he was intending for something to go wrong.

"This almost sounds like a goodbye, Rogers."

"Not goodbye, just see you in a few decades. I told Sam to keep an eye out for Buck, I didn't tell him my plan, but I told you how well they get along. Sam is also talking about moving back to Louisiana for a while to be with his sister and her two boys. So I thought that maybe since you and Vincent were here in New York that maybe you could keep an eye out for him too? He needs a friend or two, and I can't think of anyone better suited. You and Vincent helped me figure out what I really want from life. Maybe you guys will help him figure that out, too."

You both watched silently for a moment as Bucky pushed Vincent on the swings. A soft smile on his lips and a sad expression hidden behind his blue eyes, but you couldn't help noticing he was only using his right arm to push your son. With both hands covered by his black leather gloves, it took you a second to realize why. A pang in your heart at the way he kept his left arm, the vibranium arm, held behind his back. Almost like he was trying to pretend it was restrained. Like he was afraid it had a mind of its own.

"Vincent seems to be taking to him well, and he seems like a good guy. You know Vincent is gonna miss you something terrible, though."

"Bucky is a good guy. Don't let him forget that. Vincent's got his dad now. He doesn't need me anymore."

You turned to Steve and looked directly into his eyes. You needed him to know how much his presence meant to you and Vincent. How having Stephen back could never erase his place in your lives.

"Sure, he's got Stephen back, but that doesn't mean he's going to forget about everything you did for him. For both of us. For five years, you were the closest thing to a dad that he had, and the best person I could have asked to have there for him."

A genuine soft smile formed on his face. The kind of smile that's reserved for people you trust completely. A smile that holds both happy and sad memories just the same.

"Tell Bucky we are there when or if he needs us, and maybe even if he thinks he doesn't need us. The same goes for your geriatric ass too. However this whole thing shakes out. I'll bring you jell-o at 'the home' and you can tell me all about your life with Peggy."

Steve buried his face in his hands as you fell apart, laughing. You had hit the nail on the head without even really trying. Steve knew he wasn't a very good liar, but clearly, he couldn't even slip a missing detail by you.

"God, am I that easy to read? How did you know this was all about her?"

"I know that look, Steve. You have the same expression I walked around with after Scott showed up. The love of your life feels so close again, like you can almost reach out and touch them. You're still here, and yet you're already gone."

Just like that, you had managed to verbalize how he had been feeling since that day on the battlefield. Knowing that they had won and that Thanos had been defeated. You and Vincent had Stephen back. A part of his soul packed up and headed back in time right then and there. He just hadn't known how to describe it until he heard you say it.

"Just do me a favor and don't tell anyone. You and Bucky are the only ones who know about this. Like I said, I didn't tell Sam."

You held up your hand in a Scout's honor sign as you looked at him with your best serious face. This elicited another chuckle from Steve. He had to admit he was going to miss you something terrible. That was part of why he made the decision he did. You deserved to live without the nagging fear of having Steve pinning after you. A part of him always would be if he stayed.

"You're gonna give Sam the shield, aren't you?"

You waited and watched from the corner of your eye. Steve seemed to hem and haw back and forth for a minute. Trying to pick his words carefully. In an ideal world, he would have loved to pass the shield to Bucky, but he knew that Bucky needed to focus on healing and was in no position to have that kind of pressure levied on him. He was also fresh off a presidential pardon with court mandated therapy to keep him busy. Besides, you already knew that in his heart, he knew Sam was the right choice.

"I want to, yeah. I'm not the symbol this world needs now. I'm a symbol of a bygone era. A fossil, as Nat used to say. The world may need Captain America, but they don't need me. They need someone who can stand for who we could be, not just who we were. That's Sam. I don't know if he'll take it, but he deserves it. He's a good man."

"I don't know if he'll agree, and I don't know him that well, but I think from what you've told me, Sam is the perfect choice."

By now, Vincent and Bucky had started walking back towards the two of you. Coming to get Steve to come play, too. You happily found a bench and watched the three of them run around together for another hour or so. The energy level of a five year old can apparently only be matched by that of two super soldiers.

At some point, Stephen showed up and joined you on the bench. Putting his arm around you when the sun started to set and the breeze started to blow. Laughing as he watched Vincent play and sitting in content silence for the longest time. Eventually, you let your head lean on his shoulder. Just watching the three of them was making you tired.

"What did he want to talk to you about?"

"I can't tell you, but you'll know very soon. It'll make sense. Just gotta trust me in the meantime."

You waited to see what he would say. Listening for any subtle form of protest. He took one of your hands in his and brought it to his lips. Leaving a soft kiss there before letting your interlocked hands drop into his lap. A slightly mischievous but genuine smile on his lips as he responded.

"I will always trust you, my love. With everything."

--------------------------------

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furious-haste-of-malice · 3 months

Text

❝ "Come, Mulkhêrînim, and do not be shy. The Elf-prince is yours to use tonight, for this is how the Lord rewards his loyal subjects." ❞

⊱ Prompt: Pillory/stocks, free use ⊱ Pairing: Númenórean cultists x Maglor, Mairon ⊱ Synopsis: Mairon captures Maglor and brings him to the Temple of Melkor as a gift to his loyal followers. ⊱ Featuring: The Cult of Melkor is also a deranged sex cult now because Mairon said so, references to past Angbang ⊱ Warnings: Non-con, ritualistic gang rape, sadism & voyeurism (on Mairon's part in particular), the prompts by themselves

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Another one for @tolkienpinupcalendar's Dead Dove December; we're nearing the end (one more regular chapter that I have already written plus a bonus fic I'm currently working on).

Mulkhêrînim - (Adûnaic) - Children of Melkor. Thought it would be a lovely way for Mairon to address them like that as an ultimate affront against Eru. Translation by me with the help of this dictionary (because in the Tolkien fandom even the nasty porn needs linguistics!)

"I have a special gift for you today, oh faithful Mulkhêrînim."

His loyal cultists mumbled among themselves when Mairon presented them with the exquisite treat he had captured.

At first glance, it appeared to be yet another captive, like the innumerable amount he had caught in the service of his lord – a dark-haired man, albeit handsome by incarnate standards, was kneeling on the dais in front of the altar, his head and hands secured by a hastily erected pillory, naked save for a flimsy loin cloth.

The more perceptive among Mairon's followers, however, had already noticed what made this one special: The pair of pointed ears sticking out from the mess that was his hair, almost defiantly announcing his identity as one of Ilúvatar's immortal children.

"Is that an Elf?" one of the cultists gasped, pointing at the helpless prisoner.

"Indeed it is, very good," Mairon purred and stood next to the Elf in question to almost tenderly pull his hair out of the way to show them off. "But not any Elf; I have captured one of royal blood."

The whispering among his followers intensified, and he savoured the tension before the anxiously awaited revelation.

"Meet Prince Makalaurë, also known as Maglor, the last living son of Fëanor!"

Laughing and jeering erupted from the crowd, their faces changing from curious to ravenous within seconds. Maglor, however, remained quiet, merely pressing his lips together and hardening his gaze.

I suppose his dear brother told him what happens to those who talk back, Mairon thought with a pleased smirk.

"Our minstrel's lonely wanderings have finally come to an end, so that he may grace us with his presence instead," he declared with a grand gesture, smugness bleeding into his tone like black ink dripping into water.

"Will he be a sacrifice to the Lord?" a younger cultist asked.

Mairon laughed. Oh, Melkor would be delighted to witness this scene; he could practically hear his gleeful laughter echoing through the temple from beyond the circles of the world, could see his eyes gleaming with dark amusement, could feel his joy – but he swiftly tore himself away from his memories and imagination, lest he be distracted for too long.

"Perhaps he will be in time," he drawled, "though for now he shall serve you."

His mortal followers, while loyal and so very eager to attain the immortality he had promised, didn't seem to grasp the meaning of his words, looking up at him expectantly. None had the courage to ask. Mairon suppressed a sigh of exasperation and the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and stepped aside so they could properly admire Maglor's scantily clad form.

"Have you never dreamed of getting a taste of what we will conquer? Of enjoying the pleasures of immortal flesh?" He chuckled. "Such rare blood is too precious to spill with haste, would you not agree? After all..."

In one swift movement, Mairon raked his claw-like golden nails down Maglor's back, drawing blood and eliciting a piercing scream.

"He has such a beautiful voice, for which he is renowned to this day. What a waste it would be to not enjoy his illustrious company..."

Murmurs of agreement rose within the crowd, and a few cultists came closer, looking up at their high priest as they waited for permission. Mairon stepped back to make space for his followers and beckoned them with an elegant wave of his hands, causing the golden bangles on his arm to clink and tinkle.

"Come, Mulkhêrînim, and do not be shy. The Elf-prince is yours to use tonight, for this is how the Lord rewards his loyal subjects."

A heady mix of lust and greed filled the room, and he inhaled it eagerly, a warm shudder going through him. He was going to enjoy this spectacle greatly.

Had he caught any other Elf, he would have to be worried that their fëa would all too soon flee to Mandos, unable to endure such violation, but the Fëanorion's ill-fated oath would keep him chained to his hröa.

Robes billowing behind him as if moved by an unseen tempest of malice, Mairon strutted around the altar and leapt onto the lap of Melkor's statue with feline grace, taking a seat like a king would sit on a throne.

"Do you see that, precious? Almost like home," he whispered to the statue and pressed a reverent kiss onto the cold marble hand, exactly where his ring would have been.

Maglor didn't scream when his loin cloth was torn off him, nor when greedy hands explored his body and fondled him like a common whore. He didn't grace his captors with any pleas or protests. Only when one cultist knelt behind him and forced his cock inside, he finally cried out.

Mairon smiled. Awaken their lust, and they are reduced to mere animals, as you taught me yourself.

The scene unfolding in front of him was chaotic, erratic and filthy, just like Melkor would have loved it. The Man's coupling with their Elven captive was frenzied and hasty, gripping his hips with his knuckles white, chasing his pleasure. Maglor himself was soon silenced – in spite of his wonderful voice and the lovely sound of his screams – by another cultist forcing his mouth open to shove his cock down his throat.

"Let's see what else he can do with that talented tongue of his," another commented on the act, followed by raucous laughter.

Mairon considered chastising them for not appreciating the beauty of a voice trembling with pain and despair, but instead kept a serene expression as if it had been an amusing statement. He couldn't quite fault them for it; after all, mortals were ever so impatient, and their new toy had many of them to satisfy.

Whenever one finished inside of him, another would take their place. A young initiate was sent to retrieve some oil for additional lubrication and returned with a pitcher containing the very same sacred oil that was used in their ritual sacrifices – another thing too entertaining to be irked by, and thus Mairon remained silent, smiling and nodding along whenever one of his followers looked up at him for encouragement.

"Let us see if they can break him, precious," he whispered to the statue.

Maglor's head hung low whenever no one held it in place, though he had little room to move. The pillory kept him upright even as knees gave in, and seed had begun leaking out of him and down his thighs. Mairon was delighted to see droplets of red marring creamy white and caught the distinct scent of blood. Still, it didn't stop his followers from using their new toy like wild beasts mounting one another during mating season. Some also opted to help themselves before or after their turn, spilling onto whichever part of Maglor they could reach.

Mairon hadn't paid attention to the passage of time, but he estimated a few hours had passed when they were finally done with the Noldorin prince, readjusting their robes and withdrawing from him while glancing up at their master. Abandoning his comfortable seat on the statue – though most unwillingly – he stepped closer to survey the results.

Despite no longer being gagged, Maglor was eerily silent. His entire form was stained with viscous white, his face in particular, his lips were swollen, his legs trembling, his hole loose and leaking.

Mairon graced his followers with a bright, pleased smile as if they had done him a great kindness and placed his fingertips together.

"Well done, Mulkhêrînim. Our Lord shall look down upon you with benevolence and grant his favour to those who stand against his enemies."

Maglor let out a small snort, yet the spark of rebellion was short-lived when Mairon backhanded him across the face with graceful elegance that belied the force of his blow.

"Now take our guest to the King's dungeons and make accommodations worthy of a prince."

The sweet smile on his face then twisted, showing sharp teeth, and his voice darkened as he added, "And make sure he cannot escape, lest you wish to invoke our Lord's wrath."

Thanks for reading! ♡

#⊰✦⊱ non-con #mairon #sauron #maglor #makalaure #numenoreans #cult of melkor #silm smut #minors dni #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing #tw noncon #cw noncon #dead dove do not eat #TPCdeaddovedecember

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proxima-writes · 1 year

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the satanic rites of eddie munson (chapter 2)

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Cheerleader!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3

Summary:

Eddie was just trying to have a normal Thursday when some band from out of town decides he’d make an excellent virgin sacrifice for their get-famous-quick plan.

Except he’s not a virgin, and the ritual unleashes something much more sinister that lives in him now, hungry for flesh and possessive of you, the pretty cheerleader he’s always been drawn to.

Which means anyone that touches you? Needs to die.

Inspired by the movie Jennifer's Body.

Additional tags: violence, fighting, allusions to dv, possessive behavior

Eddie’s eyelids flutter open. The first thing that registers is the pain in his head. The second is that his arms are pinned to his sides, held down by rope that’s bound him to a tree.

Something crackles, and when he turns his head he sees three men silhouetted by a fire, their features covered in darkness. One of them holds a large book in his hands and another holds a dagger, the blade catching the light of the fire as he passes it between his hands.

“What the fuck,” Eddie groans.

“Oh, good. You’re awake. It did say that was important.”

The man with the dagger steps forward until he stands in front of Eddie. He crouches, placing the tip of his dagger beneath Eddie’s chin. The sharp point pricks his skin as he swallows.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to make it in the music industry? Some would say…you have to make certain sacrifices to get there.”

________

The next day, Eddie’s eating his second bowl of cereal at the small kitchen table when the news breaks that Gregory Pearson, beloved son of Officer James Pearson, has been found dead of a suspected animal attack.

“--severe lacerations to his face, neck, shoulders, and chest,” the reporter reads. Eddie’s chewing slows as he listens. “Officials believe that this unfortunate attack is the result of a mountain lion.”

Uncle Wayne huffs from the living room. “Ain’t no mountain lions in Hawkins,” he mutters as he sets up his roll-away mattress for his daytime sleep. “Also, Eddie, don’t think I didn’t notice my steak missing, you little shit. You owe me.”

Eddie throws him a two finger salute in acknowledgment as he places his dirty bowl in the sink. He grabs his things from his room and heads out the door to his van. As he turns the old hunk of junk on, the radio blares with a song that sounds oddly familiar.

“And that was Death By Midnight with their new hit single, Lost Without You, ” the show host says as the guitar riffs fade out. Eddie wracks his brain for where he may have heard the song or band before, but nothing comes to mind. With a shrug, he changes the station to another rock channel, only for the same song to be playing.

“Must be popular,” he mumbles as he pulls out of Forest Hills trailer park.

________

The atmosphere at school is somber, a distinct juxtaposition to how good he feels. There are groups of students huddled together, whispering or crying. He fights the urge to roll his eyes as a girl near his locker lets out a horrible sob before collapsing to the ground. He steps around her, knocking her bag out of the way with a booted foot as he makes his way to chemistry class.

You’re there before him, which rarely happens. You’ve told him before how you have a tendency to snooze your alarm one too many times each morning. Despite the slump in your shoulders, you still smile as he takes his seat.

“You’re looking a lot better today,” you tell him. Eddie shrugs.

“Feelin’ a lot better too, sweetheart,” Eddie replies with a wink. He revels in the splotches of pink that appear on your cheeks, trailing down your neck and disappearing into your shirt.

What he wouldn’t give to chase it down your body.

“Kinda crazy what happened to Greg, right?” You ask. “I mean, a mountain lion? Do we even have those here?”

If you asked Eddie, Greg deserved what happened to him. He was a piece of shit, a showboating jock that made people miserable for his own enjoyment.

But he doesn’t say that.

“Yeah, really crazy,” he replies instead. “Maybe you shouldn’t be walking home after school. If…if you want, I can give you a ride?”

Your eyes go all soft and sweet as you look up at him. That look gives him almost as much of a high as ripping into Greg’s throat did.

Almost.

“That’s really sweet, Eddie. Are you sure you don’t mind? I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way or anything.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, princess.”

The bell rings, tearing your attention away from him, but Eddie notices the way your hand grips your pencil just a little bit tighter, how you shift on the stool in a way that rubs your thighs together.

Mine.

________

You’re in the cafeteria trying to pay attention to something Carol is telling you about her plans for the weekend, but all you can think about is Eddie Munson.

Which isn’t new, by any means. You’ve always been kind of smitten over the school outcast. He’s sweet and hilarious, not to mention cute with his wild curly hair and big brown eyes. You look forward to your classes with him and love the way he lets his guard down around you despite the high school crowd you belong to.

Your mind drifts back to first period and the way your whole body seemed to light on fire at him calling you sweetheart and princess . Even now, just thinking about it, you have to fight the urge to squirm in your seat.

He’s never called you names like that before.

You want him to do it again.

________

Eddie stares across the cafeteria at where you sit with your cheerleader friends. His plate of lukewarm mac and cheese sits untouched in front of him. Ever since his… altercation …with Greg, he hasn’t felt hungry.

At least, not for food.

“You gonna eat that?” Dustin asks, fingers already inching towards the paper tray.

“Go for it,” Eddie replies, eyes still trained on you.

You look up, eyes meeting his, and Eddie feels like something snaps into place, like a tether goes taut between the two of you with just one look. Your eyebrows draw together and your head tilts slightly, a cute little expression of confusion.

The bell rings for the end of lunch, making you jump in surprise and breaking that connection. Eddie clenches his jaw against the loss, already itching to feel it again.

Soon.

________

It’s the end of the day and you’re grabbing the books that you need from your locker. When you shut the door, you let out a shriek of surprise. Eddie leans against the locker beside yours, lips spread in a mischievous grin. You smack him on the shoulder.

“Don’t scare me like that, Eddie!” You hiss.

“Sorry, princess. You ready to go?” He asks once he’s able to get his laughter under control.

“Yeah, I just gotta grab something from the locker room. I’ll be quick.”

He follows your lead to the gym, stopping outside the locker room doors to wait for you. There’s no sports scheduled today, not since news broke about Greg, so the locker room should be empty.

Instead, someone’s sitting on one of the benches, hunched over with his back to the door. He lifts his head when he hears your footsteps. You recognize the perfectly groomed blonde hair.

“Jason? What are you doing in the girl’s locker room?” You ask.

He sighs, turning his head to look at you with bloodshot eyes. “Chrissy…Chrissy broke up with me.”

“Oh. I’m…uh…I’m sorry?” You shuffle over to your locker, holding back a shiver at the feel of his eyes following your motions.

“Yeah. She said she just can’t handle a relationship right now, with everything,” he continues, standing. You spin the lock with fumbling fingers, your heart rate picking up speed. “Says she just wants to focus on herself.”

“That…that makes sense, I guess,” you mumble, finally getting the lock to click and pulling the door open. You reach inside to grab your cheer bag, looping it over your shoulder.

“Does it, though? You know, I’d always heard she had a thing for Greg,” he says, voice closer. “You know anything about that?”

“No. Are you listening to yourself right now? Chrissy wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Maybe. But maybe you’re just covering for her.” He reaches an arm past you, shutting the locker door with a bang that makes you jump. “Maybe you know more than you’re telling me.”

You spin on your heel, surprised to find Jason so close, looming over you with a look in his eye that makes you feel like a rabbit sighted by a wolf. “Maybe you just need to accept that Chrissy finally came to her senses about your controlling behavior, Jason, ” you say. “Because maybe I do know a little more, but not about Chrissy and Greg. About you.”

His hand wraps around your throat, shoving you back against the lockers. His lips curl in a snarl, fingers tightening their grip as you struggle against him.

“The fuck is going on here?” Eddie shouts. Jason immediately releases your neck, turning to face his interruption.

“Nothing. We were just having a little chat, weren’t we?” Jason replies, directing the question to you. Eddie calls your name.

“How about you head out to the parking lot, I’ll meet you there,” he says, eyes never leaving Jason. “Now,” he snaps when you don’t move.

You scramble away from Jason, rushing past Eddie and out the door. As you follow his instructions to meet him in the parking lot, you can’t help the worry blooming in your gut. The look in Eddie’s eye as he stared down Jason was almost…inhuman.

And you think that maybe…maybe Jason isn’t the bigger predator in that room.

________

Eddie wraps a fist in Jason’s t-shirt, slamming him back against the lockers with a strength he didn’t even know he possessed. The blonde’s head bounces off the metal with a satisfying sound.

“Don’t you ever touch her again, you hear me, pretty boy?” He snaps.

Jason’s eyes are wide with a fear so potent, it makes Eddie’s head spin and his teeth ache. “Let go of me you fucking freak!”

“Have it your way.” Eddie releases him and he crumbles to the floor in a heap. He gives him one swift kick in the ribs for good measure. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, Jason,” he warns, before turning to leave.

Eddie’s got a good idea of what his next meal will look like.

________

You’re leaning against Eddie’s van, rubbing a hand absently across your neck when you spot him exiting the gym. Alone.

With quick strides he approaches you, hands gripping you by the shoulders and eyes searching you over for signs of injury. “Are you okay?” He asks, voice tinged with worry as his eyes zero in on the red mark left behind by Jason’s hand.

“I’m fine, Eddie, really. Are you okay?” He doesn’t respond. Instead, a gentle hand cups against your neck, a calloused thumb rubbing across your throat. His jaw clenches. “Eddie?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he finally says.

The nickname, combined with the feel of his hands on you makes you shiver, eyes fluttering shut. When you open them, Eddie’s gaze is locked on your lips.

You stand perfectly still. The hand on your throat slides up, framing your jaw. His thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same as it had across your throat.

All too soon, he’s releasing you from his grasp, stepping back and putting space between your bodies that you wish wasn’t there.

“Come on. Let's get you home,” he says, voice rough. He reaches around you, pulling open the passenger door of the van. “Wouldn’t want your parents to worry.”

“Right, yeah.” You try to hide the disappointment you feel. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #no use of y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #demon eddie munson #inspired by jennifer’s body #possessive eddie munson

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hawkins-losers · 2 years

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What died didn’t stay dead | Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Summary: When someone dies in the Upside Down, they don’t always stay dead

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mention of character death, grieving,

A/N: I unfortunately have experience with the loss of a close person and used some of my personal thoughts and difficult moments. I can’t say this fic was easy to write - some parts were personal and hard to re-live -, but I’ve been waiting to write

When Eddie died, you were ruined. Every tear was a rain parade from hell.

You didn’t speak for a few days.

You laid in bed with his shirt on, bundled under heaps of blankets, letting days turned into nights again and again. If anyone were to ask you, you wouldn’t even know what day it was. It was devastating for your closed one to see you so heartbroken and…depressed.

Your mom and brother tried to get you out of bed, but life was much better when you were sleeping – you could see him in your dreams. When you were awake, you were living a nightmare. A nightmare called real-life.

Talking about nightmares, you had those too. Although you hadn’t seen Eddie getting attacked by the demo-bats, you could see it vividly in your dreams. The nasty bats biting his flesh and tearing his clothes apart, eating him as if he was a wild animal carcass.

Whenever this would happen, you’d wake up screaming and thrashing in your bed. Your mother slept soundly thanks to her sleeping pills, but Dustin would drag himself out of bed despite his limp and slide in yours the way you used to when he was little after watching a movie he shouldn't have.

You felt bad for waking him and needing his comfort, constantly apologizing with variations of ‘’I'm sorry for all this. I'm putting you through more than one ever should.’’ and ‘’I should be comforting you. I'm the big sister.’’.

Every time, Dustin would shake his head and shush you with ‘’It's okay. We can comfort each other.’’

and ‘’We’ll get through this, we’ll get past this.’’. He was the best little brother.

Talking about your brother, Dustin had a lot on his fifteen year old shoulders. Not only did he have to deal with the pain of losing a great friend and role model, but also the loss of his sister – in a way. You were present physically, but the strong young woman and your sunshine energy were gone, replaced by permanent teary eyes and a pitch black bedroom.

Every evening, he would knock on your door and bring some food – per your mother’s request. You weren’t hungry, but you forced yourself to eat a few bites just to stop your stomach from screaming and hurting.

‘’I saw Eddie’s uncle today at the helping center. He…he asked about you. He asked how you were,’’ Dustin said one night.

Your fingers crisped around your fork, a lump forming in your throat at the mention and thought of Eddie’s uncle. Eddie was a son to him. Maybe not biologically, but he had raised him since he was eight years old. You couldn't imagine the kind of pain the old man must be in.

Two weeks after the ‘earthquake’, a small gathering was held in the Hellfire club den to commemorate Eddie – a private memorial.

‘’Hellfire club is having a small gathering in Eddie's honor. Mike and I made a collage of pictures and pinned little notes with good memories and stories about Eddie. Steve, Robin and Nancy will be there too. You...it would be nice if you came.’’

Dustin was mentally crossing his fingers, really hoping you’d agree to come. A little fresh air would be good for you. You hadn’t left your house since you collapsed on the sidewalk at the news of your lover’s sacrifice and death.

You bit your bottom lip, hesitating. You hadn’t showered since Monday and your hair had been in a ponytail for a whole week. Going to the memorial would require you to fix your appearance and look somewhat presentable, but brushing your hair felt like a chore.

You also weren’t ready to go outside and see the town you grew up in destroyed by the world that took your boyfriend.

‘’I don't know, Dusty…’’ You played with a loose thread on the hem of your shirt.

Dustin nodded, not doing well at hiding his disappointment, then left.

You felt terrible for declining the invitation. It was so touching of Dustin to host a memorial for Eddie, to take action to honor him.

Since there was no body to bury, there hadn't been a proper funeral – and Mr. Munson didn't have the funds to bury an empty casket for his nephew. It was partly a good thing as there would be no tattering of his grave. Although the allegations against the murder of Chrissy had been dropped, some people still saw him as a devil worshipper.

As if she heard your loud thoughts, your mother stopped by your room before going to bed. She sat on your bed, dressed in her calf-length nightgown.

‘’Dustin told me about the memorial. It’s a sweet idea, isn’t it?’’

You nodded. A memorial was indeed a sweet idea.

Claudia continued carefully. ‘’He also told me you turned down the invitation. Is that right?’’ You looked down in guilt and your mother pursed her lips. ‘’You shouldn’t feel guilty for not attending, but I think he would've wanted you to be there.’’

In the end, you went to the memorial. Your mom helped you get the knots out of your hair and tie it into a neater ponytail. You slipped into a pair of jeans and a hoodie that belonged to Eddie, unable to leave the house without something of his. Something to ground you and act as if he was with you.

It felt strange to be in the Hellfire den without Eddie. It lacked its spark.

Everyone was surprised, but happy to see you.

Garreth came to you first, abandoning his conversation with Jeff to hug you. It wasn’t typical of him, but he had himself dealt with the loss of his grandmother earlier this year and would have loved a hug. Robin followed, along with Steve and Nancy.

‘’I can’t imagine how hard it must be to continue living without him, to keep going, but I doubt Eddie would’ve wanted you to spend the rest of your life holed up in your bed. It’s okay to take your time to grieve and heal, but you gotta keep living, Y/N,’’ the latter said, speaking for everyone.

A lump of emotions got stuck in your throat at her words, but you swallowed it down. If you started crying now, you wouldn’t be able to stop.

On the D&D table was the memorial collage Dustin and Mike had made for their friend. You recognized some of the pictures from band practice, Hellfire meeting or simply goofing around with friends. One of them made you particularly tear up. It was a picture of you and Eddie, taken without either of you knowing – likely snapped by Dustin. He was looking at you with absolute love in his eyes and that smile that was only for you.

Everyone shared their best memories of Eddie, making you tear up and get emotional. Robin and Nancy were on your sides, rubbing your back and handing you tissues. Dustin’s speech was touching, calling Eddie the brother he always wished to have.

‘’I was with him when he held his last breath. He- he told me to take care of my sister, to tell she was the Morticia to his Gomez – whatever that means.’’

Eddie had referred to an old macabre sitcom you and he used to watch at his trailer. Although your appearance contrasted Morticia’s, the love you had for each other mirrored their relationship perfectly.

‘’Although he claimed not to be a hero, Eddie died as one, sacrificing himself to protect his friends and the town that hated him, to protect the people who wanted his head on a silver plate. Very few had the chance to know him – really know him. Eddie was brave, selfless and had the kindest heart. He was a fighter and shamelessly himself until the end. He had an eye for finding the outcasts in a crowd and bringing them together, making us feel appreciated for who we are.’’

All Hellfire members exchanged glances, together today because Eddie took them under his wing, took them in his D&D club.

Followingly, Dustin proclaimed himself the new Dungeon Master, per Eddie’s request. You gotta look after my little sheeps for me, Henderson. He won’t be sitting in Eddie’s throne though – he couldn’t do that. This throne was sacred and only Eddie’s.

A few months later, you were getting ready for bed when you saw your nightstand lamp flickering strangely. The lightbulb was brand new and the lamp never acted up before. You frowned and stepped closer, studying the lamp closely. It wasn’t just flickering, it was flickering in a pattern.

You probably jumped to conclusion too fast and got your hopes up for nothing, but you rushed into Dustin’s room, not caring if he was sleeping or not. You shook his shoulder until he stirred.

‘’Y/N? What are you doin’ here?’’ He rubbed his eyes sleepily. ‘’Did you have a nightmare-’’

You brushed off all of Dustin’s questions. ‘’I saw my lap flicker in the same weird way it did at the Wheelers the night Steve and the others went through the water-gate.’’ You grabbed his arm and pulled him up. ‘’Come see.’’

Dustin frowned, allowing his brain to wake up and slowly piecing it together. ‘’You mean…morse code?’’

‘’Yes! I know you saw him dying, that you saw his last breath, but…what if Eddie got revived in some strange supernatural way and is stuck in the Upside Down?’’

It was a crazy theory, but crazy had become part of your lives since Dustin and his friends stumbled upon that bald girl in the woods a few years ago.

You both went back to your room, seeing the lamp still flickering.

‘’Holy shit,’’ Dustin slipped, recognizing the signal and confirming that it was indeed morse code. ‘’Holy shit!’’ he repeated, at loss of words.

‘’It's Eddie. He’s trying to communicate with us,’’ you said a little too excitedly. ‘’He’s alive. He’s here, he’s-’’

Dustin felt bad for bursting your bubble, but he couldn’t let you get your hopes up. You had just started leaving the house without breaking down and seeing your friends again, he didn’t want you to fall back in the darkness.

‘’Wait! If you are right, I need you to keep in mind that this…thing is not Eddie – your Eddie. Physically, it might look like him, but when Peter got sent into the gate by El, he didn’t return from the Upside Down as himself. The Upside Down transformed him into the being of Vecna – it turned him evil. More evil than he already was.’’

‘’Peter was evil from the beginning. Eddie is not.’’

‘’He got bit to death by demo-bats,’’ Dustin reminded you. ‘’If normal bats can bring you loads of deadly diseases, imagine what a supernatural bat can give you. Whoever is on the other side is not-’

‘’Steve got bit too and he’s fine,’’ you pointed, on the defensive.

‘’Which is a fucking miracle!’’ Dustin practically shouted, forgetting for a moment about your mother a few doors down.

You sat on your bed, overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions. Dustin was right, you knew he was, but it was nice to think even if only for a few seconds that the man you loved was alive and calling for you.

After calming down and getting hold of his emotions, Dustin sat beside you, looping an arm around your shoulders. ‘’I want it to be him, I want the person on the other side to be our Eddie, but…’’

He didn’t need to finish.

You laid your head on your brother’s shoulder. ‘’I miss him so much, Dusty.’’ A tear slipped from your eye and Dustin felt his own prickle.

‘’I miss him too.‘’

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3 @cursedandromedablack @Slashersimpfor @savagejane1 @wh0reforbucknasty @eddiemunson-slut @slvdsjjk @hehehehannahthings @dreamdancers-world @eddiemunsonbby @notbeforelong @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog @tatespillows @alwayslexii @lilygreennn @milkiane @imahomeslice @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick @wandamaximoffs-deadchild @horrorstreet @rmeddar123 @pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys @luvmybbies @chloepricesgrafitimarker @inluvweddiemunson @i-like-trains @kittenfrostt @simp-for-slasher @m-rae23 @kenzi-woycehoski

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss @eddiemattress @ghoulishlygrey @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook @truewdw1 @bubsonnobx @ohhrexella @Dreamtiara @pastelbabygirl19 @steves-robin @eddiemunsonbby @jenlouvre @bonked-beyond-belief2 @tvserie-s-world @bootlegmothman420 @courtmr @chrisxevans-seb @satinselenite @thikkiesixx @jennilynn63 @nia-um @welcometohellfirw @strangermarvelgirl @sugar-simz @fandomloversvaries @miakatharinaa @julsss321 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @Minksblog @soph69420world @ameliakf13 @nancewheelersworld @parasadic-blog @nluvwitheddiemunson @veniceb1tch88 @ali-r3n @Luv.eddie @stephylovesmayahawke @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetheart-im-the-boss @jusstdreaaming @hoeformunsonandhargrove @buckyswhxre @tomspidertingle @stormyparker @thechoiceslookgrimm @ilikechocolatemilkh @bbylyneth @bobafettsleftglove @princesseddie @yourfavdummy @xbreezymeadowsmunsonx

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie stranger things #stranger things s4

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mr-f3l7 · 4 months

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While we're on the subject of Greek Monsters being Victims

I honestly feel pretty bad for the Minotaur.

First some backstory; A prince named Minos was competing with his brother from the throne of their island, Crete, and decided the best way to get a one up on his brother was to show the gods favored him. So he prayed to Poseidon for his favor and Poseidon decided, "Yeah, sure", and gifted Minos a pure white bull as a sign of favor.

(A side note, historically ancient Crete had a huge thing for Bulls, most of their surviving culture heavily featured bovine sigils which might explain how this story came to be and so on).

The Cretans, who loved Bulls, of course recognized what this meant and Minos ascended to the throne. Of course, here is where the classic mortal arrogance steps on divine pride comes in. See, Minos was supposed to sacrifice the bull to Poseidon as a show of thanks but Minos decided that he liked the white bull far too much to simply kill, so he sacrificed a different bull and kept Poseidon's cow hoping he could have his cake and eat it too. Poseidon was reasonably a bit pissed that this mortal reneged on their very simple deal and decided some wildly indiscriminate divine judgement was called for.

Poseidon decided the most poetic thing to do was to make Minos' wife love the Bull even more than anyone on Crete, even Minos... by, like, a lot. Like, a lot. Long story short, Minos had a bastard son who was half bull and was horrified. According to the myth, the Minotaur was originally raised by Minos' wife but quickly became vicious and as an unnatural beast feasted on human flesh since it had no actual place in the food chain. To contain it, Minos tasked Daedalus to construct a massive labyrinth to contain the Minotaur.

There it would languish for years, lost in the dark and even used as a sadistic form of execution for Minos' enemies, specifically Athenian men and women handed over to Minos after he waged war with them until eventually Theseus would arrive and slay the Minotaur.

Now, you may be wondering why I would feel bad for this guy. By all accounts, the Minotaur had no chance of growing out of its monstrous ways. Very quickly it turned into a man-eating beast with violent tendencies. How can it compare to another tragic myth like Medusa?

Generally, I think the fact it had no chance to begin with is tragic in and of itself. Medusa was a victim of divine crossfire between Athena and Poseidon, while the Minotaur was a victim of Divine Circumstance. Poseidon didn't care what became of the Minotaur after it was born, merely that it came into this world to torment Minos after he was slighted by the mortal. Perhaps there was a chance it could have overcome its base instincts, but the Minotaur was from the start designed and intended to be a horrifying beast.

It was despised by Minos from the moment it drew breath, and it certainly horrified the people of ancient Greece. It must have grown physically much faster than it did mentally, and with an unnatural mix of animalistic instinct and human mentality would have made it difficult to handle without being able to rip men and women limb from limb. It would spend the rest of its life wandering a dark maze, feasting on whoever Minos threw in there to survive.

I think the last point that gets me is that monsters don't have names. Minotaur is an anglicized version of its Greek name, Minotauros, meaning the Bull of Minos, which was a description of what it was but it also had a name; Asterion, after Minos' foster father. It was a half-animal that probably deserved to be put down, but in the end it was a thing that was brought into a world that would despise it and never had the chance to learn and be better.

It makes me wonder if the Minotaur being a mindless monster with no hope is the better option than a confused and neglected creature who had no choice but to become the beast his people saw him as.

#greek mythology #minotaur #the minotaur #greek gods #poseidon #medusa #theseus #athena #greek heroes #myths #mythology

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phoenixradiant · 2 months

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For the recently created universe Ask game

🌌 Galaxy - Rant to me.

Alright! Two topics come to mind to rant on, but I think I'm gonna stick to talking about Cellic, and how desperate and broken I made him. I'm not going to talk about how I fixed him again either, because that would be way too long. It's essay-length as it is.

Cellic is introduced as a compassionate person. A hard man, yes, but a compassionate one. His entire life up until the story starts has been filled with self-sacrifice. First his family, then his friends, and now his kingdom and Alador as a whole have come to rely on his strength and goodwill. He was slaving away to provide for his brothers even as a cripple, because he couldn't bring himself to rely on nearby families who had also fallen on tough times. He helped Maiph get through the sudden loss of her parents, and helped Randar's father get back on his feet after his son's murder shocked him out of drunkenness. He's stubborn as anything, and sometimes a real pain to get along with, but in the words of his king, Falder Faldarin, he's "a good man, inasmuch as those two words can be reconciled." He doesn't think of himself as having problems, but everything good and bad about him can be summed up in his two greatest desires: To be strong enough to protect those he loves and bring justice to a broken world. His selflessness is not the issue, but the manner in which he goes about it. He blindly assumes that if he were just stronger, he could make everything all right. You'll see why this matters in a moment, but Cellic is ernest and devoted to a fault.

And because I needed a plot, I took everything away from him. Everything. He lost both his parents, a sister, and an older brother figure as backstory, yes, but then he joins the Deathguard. And he makes friends, friends who think like him, friends with honor like his and fervor like his, and he watches them die, and the ones who don't die, he watches scream and writhe and burn with a searing pain that never ends as their blood is drained and used for profane rituals, and he feels the same, and even once they escape, he watches them die on the inside. They are all dangerously close to believing the words whispered by their captors: "mankind are monsters, nothing is sacrosanct, nothing is whole." And while acting as the anchor for people back home, he also has to be his compatriots' hold on reality. He reminds them about the ideals they fought for, and he is, outwardly, everything they want to be. Stalwart, and violently whole, even through horror and pain. And then Illenfold. One of his friends is betrayed by her own flesh and blood, who raises an army to selfishly claim what is rightfully hers. And still, Cellic stands, a bastion of justice, and peace, even as he wages war and spills blood.

At this point, I think every character in Cellic's "supporting cast profiles" but one, King Faldarin, has their hope in Cellic. Farric and Lettic hope in his justice to make the world a better place and to keep them safe, and they hope in his job to make enough money to keep them afloat. Maiph hopes in his tenacity and strength, that she won't lose him forever like she's lost everyone else who loved her. Anesaru and Relpier hope in his hope, they need him to prove that men can be more than monsters, that there is real good in the world. Sizen hopes that he can keep Anesaru and Relpier sane (Sizen's Saru's bodyguard, so his entire purpose in life is just to keep her safe). Cellic has a lot riding on his shoulders, and to him, that's normal. To him, that's right, that's who he is. His parents, and his role model Randar, all told him that since he's more capable than others that he has a greater responsibility than others, which was correct and they themselves practiced, but he interpreted it to mean he had to bear the weight of the world. Being selfless is all well and good, but it won't be long until that weight comes crashing down around him. Because he does the unthinkable: he loses himself.

Cellic kills someone. Two people actually. He had plausible deniability, there was a case to be made that they were a threat to peace in Alador (according to the information he had been given), but he enjoyed it, and it sickens him. Up until that point, he'd killed, but he'd never really murdered anyone. He can't face himself, he rejects himself, and for two months he drops off the face of the earth. Part of that self-rejection is the destruction of everything he had connecting him to his old life, including a gemstone that allowed him to communicate with Maiph. When it breaks, so does hers, and she, Farric, and Lettic all fly off the rails in various different ways. They all think he's dead, and start unraveling almost immediately. When he doesn't come back from a mission, Anesaru and Relpier lose hope, and the actions they take out of desperation turn them into major antagonists. Sizen and Falder remain mostly sane, but they're worried about the way Alador is spinning out of control, which Queen Anesaru's mental state is not helping.

In the two months while all this is happening, Cellic just snaps. He starts killing people left and right, at first he tries to justify it by killing only criminals and soldiers of whoever his hallucinations decide is the "enemy" that day, but eventually he's murdering anyone he happens across while wandering out in the middle of nowhere. He's usually sane enough to know that the people he sees are often mere hallucinations, but he also does have the ability to see ghosts and the voice of an evil god in his head (picked up as a result of the torture and blood magic), so he's never entirely sure, so sometimes he kills people thinking they're illusory. He's definitely killed some people he knew were people though.

And finally, after plot happens, he's forced to confront the monster he's become, and he can't. He doesn't think that there is nothing sacrosanct, nothing whole, but he now knows that men are monsters, and he decides there's nothing worth living for, that continuing to live will only mean destroying everything he holds dear. The only problem is that his death would destroy the people he holds dear, and so, hopeless but unwilling to vanquish the hope of others, he survives without living, doing everything he can to keep those he loves from clinging to him so that when he's dragged into damnation they won't follow. And he spends Act II and part of Act III this way. I broke the guy, and I feel bad about it, I think because who he was before (though not to the extent as the person he will be after) is exactly the kind of person I would like to be. Who Cellic becomes is unquestionably the better man, but who he was before was so close to being that man, and in watching him fall so far in between the two, it almost feels like, as the author, I'm destroying a bit of my own soul. And painful though it may be, it's also glorious.

...

So that's my rant. It's... very long. You did ask, though, so I hope its length was to your liking!

#writeblr #writing #kelovir #epic fantasy #fantasy #cellic thricebrant #oc asks #writers #oc rambling #oc rant #universe ask game

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jojo-lane · 1 year

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Dolce. B

My Ride or Die OC might just be a Reader-insert but I have others who are more fleshed out, here's one:

TW: Mentions of child prostitution.

Dolce Brando is the illegitimite daughter of Dio Brando and a prositute he frequented during the year 1888 who eventually gave birth to her and her twin brother, Dante Brando, some time in 1889. Unable to care for her babies, their mother gives them up to a Church orphanage and for a time, they grow up relatively happy. Until Dante falls sick with typhoid and the Church kicks them out to the streets in order to prevent him from infecting other children.

Desperate to save her brother, Dolce manages to find their mother barely conscious in an opium den who tells her about their rich father, Dio, a Hugh Hudson Law graduate who was adopted by the noble Joestar family. So Dolce sets out to track him down, determined to demand money and shelter from him only to find out that he mysteriously disappeared after graduating from university. Looking into the Joestars, she crosses paths with one Erina Pendelton, now known as Erina Joestar who is working as an English teacher at the school her son attends. Erina tells Dolce that Dio died on a ship while attempting to murder her husband and his brother, Jonathan Joestar. She never tells her about the Stone Mask that turned Dio into a vampire but makes sure to let Dolce know what a tyrranical and cruel man her father was and that he didn't leave any money or assets for her to inherit. Erina doesn't offer any help to Dolce and Dolce doesn't ask for any out of pride.

Frustrated from running into dead ends and with Dante growing weaker and weaker with each passing day, Dolce joins a brothel on Ogre Street at aged 14. The money she recieves from selling her virginity to the highest bidder, covered the costs of Dantes treatment and he miraculously survives.

Young, beautiful and intelligent, Dolce quickly climbs the ranks of the brothel and becomes a high end escort only afforded by the rich but she only grows to resent the world around her. At age 16, Dolce kills her souteneur and takes over the brothel to start an all-female crime syndicate who specialises in theft and shoplifting. When Dante finds out how Dolce has been paying for their expenses, he tries to stop her and when she refuses, he leaves. Angry at her for always keeping him sheltered and in the dark and feeling guilty for the sacrifices she had to make to ensure their survival, Dante sets out on his own journey to prove his worth as a man.

Dante's departure devastates Dolce and she goes into a spiral of sex, drugs and alcohol. She becomes more ruthless in her dealings with her own syndicate too, executing a member and her lover for wanting to quit the gang to get married and settle down. When her cruelty becomes too much to bear, a few members rally together to usurp her position as boss.

Dolce Brando died at age 18, killed in a shoot out with her own gang members. She never saw or heard from her brother again.

Design Notes & More

I messed up her face a little in this drawing but I had Cara Delevingne in mind when I was drawing her. She just has that deviousness to her face that I imagine Dio's daughter would have. Dolce's hair was also difficult to draw, she kept looking like a cross between Diego and Lucy Steel so her hair may change in future drawings, idk. Her namesake is obviously from the very famous brand, Dolce & Gabbana.

I also didn't specify this but the bit about prostitution is in reference to how young girls were exploited through dance and ballet in the 19th Century. Dolce is also exploited through a similar means that I might go into detail in a fic or something.

Unknowingly, Dolce takes after Dio a lot. The only person she ever loved was her brother and when he leaves her, she goes berserk and brings about her own downfall. Like Dio's canon children, save for Giorno, she is a very tragic character. If Dolce were to ever meet Dio, she would play nice at first before attempting to murder him. Even without knowing him, Dolce hated Dio because of how he failed to steal the Joestar fortune and ended up "dying". She is headstrong and ambitious so she would also try to achieve Heaven for herself but ultimately fail because of her fate.

But I wonder what would Dio think of Dolce? I think he would not like her but at the same time, have a soft spot for her. They definately share the same or similar opinions about fate and humanity.

Let me know what you guys think! 🙂

#dio brando #jjba fanart #dios daughter #dolce brando #original character #jojo lore #erina pendleton #dio what have you done

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asoiafdrabbles · 1 year

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Untitled

Summary: What Jon experiences in the aftermath of his assassination.

Notes: Idk this just happened lol

XxXxX

Jon wakes.

He can still feel the daggers in his flesh, parting the delicate tissue, glancing off the bone, but when he looks down the wounds are empty. There, but bloodless.

A noise to the side, he jerks his gaze towards it. For a moment he meets red, red, and thinks Ghost? but it is not Ghost, it is a man.

He looks familiar, looks familiar because Jon knows who he is by sight but also because parts of him look like Jon.

There's Blackwood blood in the Stark line but there shouldn't be enough and there's little or no Stark in him which means Jon looks like--looks like--

His thoughts are full of things that are his and aren't, of possibilities, and missed chances, and pain.

"Uncle?" he gasps, the word true as he says it because this is Aegon's son, Daeron's brother, Maekar's uncle and Jon is--Jon is--

"Nephew," Brynden Rivers breathes in return, because he knows, as any greenseer knows anything, and then he's reaching towards Jon and holding him, supporting him, anchoring him.

This is the Lord Commander's room, Jon's room (Jon is dead, has died, he is not of the NIght's Watch, he is free and it is too late for father--uncle--and too late for Robb but he can save Arya, he can save someone) and Bloodraven's room.

He reaches out with his arms, and his mind, and his soul and he clutches at Brynden but feels something more beyond him. The Children, the weirwoods, the deep dark cold white space and bright blue that shares his pain, his horror, his knowledge he was murdered.

"Don't," Brynden commands--begs--knowing it's already too late.

Somewhere deep in the heart of white winter winds is the knowledge the promised prince will be killed before--before destiny, before his proper end.

But why is he here?

For Brynden, he thinks, for the Last Greenseer, to make it all real and necessary.

They were both sacrifices.

There is no pain but there is only pain. He feels like he's burning up, the heat unbearable.

"Not yet, not yet," he tries to get across, only half aware of what he's saying, through a deluge of knowledge he cannot hold onto, "Bran, Bran needs--"

Brynden clutches onto him, holding him close, comforting him and he wonders if Rhaegar's hold would feel the same, if his arms would feel the same, but he died before Jon was even born, his arms only bone and ash. "I know, I'll know," he's assured, pale lips twisted in shared horror.

The past is written, but that doesn't mean this too was not written. The Wall is magic formed solid and they are pieces of it, given to it with their vows and the votes, with every drop of blood dripping onto its surface and Jon has given all of his.

"Uncle," he tries again, realizing with a new ache that he'd had another uncle at the Wall who he had never gotten to name such, who was dead and gone now. "You don't--"

But he can't finish, can't remember what he was saying as the world goes black around the edges. Black and red (and white and blue, such bright blue, burning into him, into his soul, commanding him to survive).

He wakes and the world is on fire, he's the only thing not burning. Clothes he wore, the hair on his head and arms, and everywhere, nothing but ash, but his flesh is clear and healthy.

His wounds are closed as though caterized, but still deep and horrible and fatal.

Wood collapses under him, weakened by the fire, and he gasps as he falls to the ground. It's hard and warm, but beyond it is damp, and beyond that is cold, and he crawls towards the cold, needing the cold.

Needing to reach out and see the blue that calls to him still, that begs for him to still exist because he's needed, necessary, promised.

There are screams as he stumbles to his feet, searching against the afterimages of Brynden and fire, landing on those he knows, those he trusts.

"Jon?" he hears, that name that is not his name, that another uncle, a dead uncle, gave to him.

A shield to guard him.

Then other arms wrap around him, as they never have, and he leans desperately into the touch, thinking of Bryden in the far North, tangled in roots, and seeping through Bran's thoughts and Bran's destiny.

And the prophecy that entwines all of them.

#jon snow #asoiaf fic #character: jon snow #character: brynden rivers #verse: future fic

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freuleinanna · 2 years

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lycaon's curse

even a man who is pure at heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms, and the moon is shining bright.

given how the game did nick dirty on account of making him a basic plot-explaining tool, I'm gonna go ahead and headcanon a whole lycaon-the-first-werewolf-related greek au for him and yes, there are curses, mischief, gods and goddesses

so, some history first. lycaon, an arcadian king, is considered to be the first werewolf, and though sources differ on what exactly happened, two things are clear:

he offered zeus a meal of human flesh;

as punishment, zeus turned him into half-man, half-wolf, to show his beastly nature. supposedly, the silver aversion is a part of the whole 'you shall never eat like a man again [that is, from a silver plate], but will feast like an animal instead' thing.

some sources say initially, lycaon wanted to gain the gods' blessings in order to restore the once-prosperous land, and zeus favoured him because lycaon built him a grand temple. however, lycaon became obssessed with the idea of worshipping gods to the point of making human sacrifices and killing visitors of his land.

anyway, look at this awesome art by Sirmaril7. the turning of lycaon. i'm in awe.

so imagine young nikolaos, a descendant of the great king lycaon, unknowingly carrying the curse in him. zeus being a vindictive bitch, he curses the whole bloodline (although it's also said that lycaon bit his 50-something children, so), yet the wolf curse does not reveal itself so many generations after.

nikolaos is a soft-tempered young man, hard-working and honest, and shining. he is what's called beautiful rather than handsome. his beauty, people say, outshines the sun itself.

apollo, the god of the sun and a son of zeus (who as we remember is vindictive bitch, so), is angry with nikolaos as no one dares to be superior to a deity. having uncovered the secret of nikolaos's legacy, he tricks him the same way lycaon tried to trick zeus.

you see, nikolaos is very much in love with abigaia, a kind-hearted, flame-haired girl who loves him just as much. on the day of their wedding, apollo comes down from the sky to bless the pair, and a whole marvelous feast appears, magnificent at sight, rotten with a dark twist within. unknowongly, nikolaos eats human flesh, and the moment he does, lycaon's curse returns.

nikolaos is transformed into a brutal wolf, a creature so monstrous it wouldn't dare to even see the light of day, not to mention outshine the sun. horror-stricken, the creature runs to the wilderness to bury itself in shadows.

let's not forget about abigaia, though. for days, she wonders the woods trying to find the trail of her lost lover, yet she's never closer than the yellow gleam of his eyes, too far away from her. nikolaos is so afraid to harm his beloved, he runs further and further. he does not trust the beast and is ashamed of his own monstrosity. grieving, he howls day and night, until even magical creatures avoid his presense.

abigaia makes an offering to apollo and asks him to lift the curse, yet he is adamant. a wounded pride does not heal easily. other gods do not intervene. to them, humans are but sparks of falling stars against the vast night sky, their mortal woes too insignificant against eternal life. finally, abigaia pleads the goddesses of the moon to oppose apollo and take the curse away. artemis, the hunting goddess of the halfmoon and a twin sister to apollo, refuses her plea. hecate, the magic goddess of the dark moon and a cousin to apollo, also refuses. but selene, the goddess of the full moon, takes pity on her.

selene weaves the threads of the curse and binds them to herself, taking apollo's power in their never-ending day and night, sun and moon confrontation. she makes it that for almost thirty days, nikolaos remains human as he's always been, but when selene comes to take the sky, she takes him with her. on those nights, nikolaos is to lose all humanity and run with the moon in his beastly form. to spare him the horror, she makes him forget the night.

and so nikolaos is able to return to his beloved abigaia, and their reunion is celebrated so, that even mystical creatures of the forests and rivers join them for festivities. nikolaos's bloodline continues, and abigaia gives birth to four strong, handsome boys. and everything is well.

when the boys come of age, they join their father for a run under the moon, and when he cannot run anymore, four wolf cubs repay his eternal gratitude to selene by taking his place.

#i just... i love greek myth vibes so much #once again zeus is a bitch #in my mind nicky is a happy greek werewolf don't @ me #the quarry #the quarry game #the quarry au #greek mythology au #nick furcillo #the quarry nick #nick furcillo au #nick furcillo imagine #abigail blyg #the quarry abigail #nick x abi #they are the greek otp oKAY #anna writes the quarry #the quarry headcanons #werewolf transformation #lycaon

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 4 months

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2nd February >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Feast of The Presentation of the Lord

(Liturgical Colour: White: B (2))

(When a Feast of the Lord is celebrated on a weekday there is only one reading before the Gospel, which may be chosen from either the first or second reading)

Either:

First Reading Malachi 3:1-4 The Lord you are seeking will suddenly enter his Temple.

The Lord God says this: Look, I am going to send my messenger to prepare a way before me. And the Lord you are seeking will suddenly enter his Temple; and the angel of the covenant whom you are longing for, yes, he is coming, says the Lord of Hosts. Who will be able to resist the day of his coming? Who will remain standing when he appears? For he is like the refiner’s fire and the fullers’ alkali. He will take his seat as refiner and purifier; he will purify the sons of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, and then they will make the offering to the Lord as it should be made. The offering of Judah and Jerusalem will then be welcomed by the Lord as in former days, as in the years of old.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading Hebrews 2:14-18 He took to himself descent from Abraham.

Since all the children share the same blood and flesh, Christ too shared equally in it, so that by his death he could take away all the power of the devil, who had power over death, and set free all those who had been held in slavery all their lives by the fear of death. For it was not the angels that he took to himself; he took to himself descent from Abraham. It was essential that he should in this way become completely like his brothers so that he could be a compassionate and trustworthy high priest of God’s religion, able to atone for human sins. That is, because he has himself been through temptation he is able to help others who are tempted.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 23(24):7-10