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sherifftillman · 2 years

Text

False Idols

alternate ao3 link

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: 18+ (minors DNI or I'm shattering throats n slicing kneecaps), unprotected sex (also pls do not do), oral (f receiving + m receiving), deepthroating, handjob, fingering, light degradation, p in v, cumming inside, eddie's got a god complex

Summary: One revelation leads to another, and another...

Word count: 3582

A/N: Sorry it's been so quiet on the writing front! I'm getting back into the swing of things :)

“Phoenix, this is Hellhound, do you copy? Over.”

You love that Eddie’s got more friends now, you really do. And him being friends with those freshmen who loved their AV club sure has come in useful for you to be able to communicate with him uninterrupted, pretty much wherever you may be. But maybe he got a little too into making codenames for the two of you.

Reaching over to pick up your walkie-talkie, you hold it up to your mouth and squeeze the button. “Yeah, I’m here, Eds. What’s up?”

“Would it kill you to use the lingo just once?” Although his voice is warbled from the radio, you can hear the disappointment in his tone.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Uhh, ten-four, reading you loud and clear, Cap’n Hellhound, what’s your coordinates? Over.”

“Funny. Someone get this kid on stage,” Eddie deadpans. “Are you free to come hang out at the trailer, if I pick you up? Like, now?”

“Uh, sure! I’ll need to get ready first, how far away are you?”

“Uhh…”

“You’re outside, aren’t you.” Silence. Tells you everything. “Read you loud and clear, Hellhound. Phoenix over and out.”

You slip on the first shoes you find and head straight out the front door to your front yard. You probably should have picked up a jacket, considering how you’re dressed, but you’re not thinking about that right now. What’s important is being there for your best friend. The way you always have been, and always will be.

Being Eddie Munson's best friend meant playing the most epic of fantasy games growing up. Being Eddie Munson's best friend meant having to stand back while he got bullied, because having a girl defend him only made it worse. Being Eddie Munson's best friend meant always having a front row seat to Corroded Coffin gigs, even though there was never a massive crowd, you knew there would be someday. Being Eddie Munson's best friend meant always having someone in your corner, and always being there in his, too.

You knew exactly why he wanted you out here. Now that he’s all up and graduated, the endless void of The Future beckons, and it scares him. All his other, more age-appropriate friends have plans and that scares him because he doesn’t. His plan was to graduate with you the year prior. You’d joked that he was always destined to be held back a year so you could leave that place together. But you managed to get through senior year unscathed. Eddie still didn’t quite make it until the following year. But he met his little baby nerds this past school year, so perhaps it was all part of his divine plan after all.

Everyone around you always had an opinion about your choice not to go into college right after school. You’re smart enough. It’s the usual way. What else are you going to do with your life? You always tell them that you’ve got your whole life to figure out what you want to dedicate it to working as, what’s the rush? But deep down, you know there’s another reason you haven’t left Hawkins.

You and Eddie had driven in silence for the most part. Whenever Eddie suggested these drives, it’s usually because he wanted to be alone, except for the pair of you, that state is only safe when it’s the two of you, even if it’s to sit in total silence. You felt the cold, remnant-of-spring breeze hit your skin and quickly pulled Eddie’s spare jacket from where he usually “stored” it beneath your feet and threaded your arms into it, suddenly very self-conscious about the choices you’d made - or rather, not made - before you left the house.

He finally breaks the silence after he’s parked up outside his uncle’s trailer, though he shows no sign of getting out. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

You frown, "Why wouldn't I be? You drove me."

He chuckles softly, stroking his chin. "You know what I mean, smartass. You were made for college. You could be anywhere in the whole United States right now, kicking ass and taking names. Your whole world shouldn't start and end at Hawkins."

You want nothing more than to shake him by the shoulders and tell him that your whole world is right here next to you, but of course you can't do that. "Well, that's why I'm gonna be the Coffin's number one roadie, right? So I can see the world."

Eddie scoffs as he gets out of the car, "Please, give yourself some credit. You'd be our tour manager, at least."

"See?! Fuck college, I've got my life planned out already, seeing the world with my best friend in tow," you grin, hopping out the other side.

Eddie looks at his trailer, shakes his head softly and gestures for you to walk around some more with him. You follow in tow, feeling the cold air hit your chest, and cross your arms around it, desperately hoping you can continue to hide what the air exposes.

Eventually, Eddie smiles softly, "Alright, in reality, I am pretty glad you didn't go to college."

"Me too," you nod back, walking into his arm to nudge it lightly.

After a few beats of walking in comfortable silence, Eddie chuckles again. "Speaking of life plans, you still gonna marry me when we're 35?"

You collapse into laughter, remembering the pact you made when you were kids. "Oh my god, stop! And I swear it was when we were 40! It definitely ended in a 0."

"Fine, then when we're 30," he muses. "Still down?"

"What's the rush?" you ask. "C'mon, don't you wanna find your soulmate first?"

He snorts with laughter, "Again with all the ‘fate’ stuff. You're so corny."

You stop walking and gasp in half-mocked offence. "What do you mean?!" You continue your pace deliberately back towards his trailer, having almost come full circle, and he follows, "Do you not believe that one of these days, when you're out on tour or whatever, you're gonna meet someone who you're gonna spend the rest of your life with?"

Eddie shakes his head and laughs in disbelief, muttering, "Oh, sweetheart, if you only knew."

Your heart sinks. "What's that mean?" you ask, but Eddie stays silent. "Come on, you can tell me!" He remains quiet. Trying to remain light-hearted, you tut, shaking your head. "Well damn, some future husband you'll be if you're already keeping secrets from me…"

He finally breaks, clearing his throat. "Um. Well, uh, maybe that… Person, is… Not somewhere out in the big wide world to go looking for after all." His gaze quickly turns to you to gauge your reaction before he turns away again. You wonder if, after all this time, or maybe just for now, he feels the same things you do.

You decide to test the waters, stepping closer to him and letting one arm fall, brushing your knuckles against his. "That's true, the world is a big ol' place. Maybe they're closer than that. Maybe they're still in America."

You see the corners of his mouth turn up as he takes your hand and squeezes it. "Maybe - maybe they're still in Indiana."

You've both stopped walking now, once again back at the van. You're looking into his eyes, his deep, dark, warm, rich eyes. He's looking at you with mixed eager anticipation and sheer awe that this conversation is even happening. "You think they might be in Hawkins?" You ask, an obvious sense of smugness present in your tone.

He leans into you, with just as prideful a grin as he admits, "I think we both know you're right here."

Your hand cradles his jaw into the first kiss you two have ever shared. Silent years of pining, of being afraid to lose him over this, of jealousy over everyone he ever showed an interest in, of guilt that you could never get over him. All of that melts between your lips. But there's more than just that. Not only is he matching your energy entirely here, he's one-upping it.

His hands start to slide down your back slowly. Tantalisingly. They stop at the small of your back, fingers drumming impatiently. You hum a sound of consent against his lips, and Eddie wastes no time in taking your ass into both of his hands and squeezing. As he pulls you close, your hips instinctively start to grind against his. Your moans harmonise in each others' mouths, though yours falters into a shiver. Eddie breathes out a laugh, rubbing your arms over his jacket. “Wanna head inside and warm up?” he purrs, pressing his forehead against yours and then leaning his head up to kiss your forehead softly.

You nod and step away from him, once again keeping your arms tightly wound across your body to keep yourself warm as he fumbles through his pockets to find the key to the trailer. You follow behind him up the steps, practically feeling the physical anticipation between the two of you like static electricity. He wrenches the door open, holding it out for you and lingering as he watches you walk in. He quickly follows though, not even allowing enough time for the door to close behind him before snaking his arms beneath yours and pulling you close to resume kissing you.

He blindly guides you towards the couch until you both fall into it, grabbing your thighs to wrap them around his hips before sliding his hands up beneath your skirt to this time grip your bare ass. The metal of his rings press contrastingly cool and smooth to his warm, wide, worn hands. You squeeze your knees into his hips now that you’re straddling him, your hips desperately seeking friction which he happily provides, bucking up to meet you.

He makes quick work of throwing his jacket off of your shoulders, and you break the kiss to lean back and shake it off your arms. His eyes trail down to your chest and he sucks a long breath in. "Holy fuck, angel, I thought you had your arms crossed because you were mad at me for something, but…" He slowly drags his knuckles up and down against the sensitive nubs practically bursting through the thin cover of your dress. You breath hitches once, twice, three times as you gasp at the contact. "Now I see why."

"Yeah, well… I just threw this on because - it was easy and I - was just having a lazy day," you whine through his touches.

Eddie pauses for a moment to bring your jaw down to look him in the eyes as he raises his eyebrows. "You just "threw on" the one dress that makes your tits look like works of fucking art? Please." He tugs at the front of your dress to expose your breasts, and you slip the straps down to give him full access to take one out and start suckling on your nipple. He continues to rub the other between his finger and his thumb, and you rake your fingers into his hair as you cry out with pleasure.

Eddie looks back up at you as if he's high off the taste of your skin, smiling dreamily. "Would I be right in assuming, based on what I felt earlier, that your bra isn't the only underwear you forgot?"

You bite your lip and jump up, pulling your dress up over your head and throwing it at him. "Come see for yourself," you smirk, pushing your chin into your shoulder before running into his bedroom.

He chases you there, throwing his shirt off in the process. You sit perched on the edge of the bed and he looks at you in awe, slowly sinking his knees lower as he approaches you until he's on the floor at your feet, throwing your legs over his shoulders before burying his face between them and sliding his tongue deep beneath your folds.

Your hands once again take residence in his hair, scooping it all to one side so you can watch his tongue fuck you before pulling out to lap your clit rapidly. One hand is rested on your inner thigh, ready to plunge his fingers inside of you whenever his tongue is focused on your clit, and the other rests on top of your other thigh, ready to rub at your clit in circles whenever his tongue is inside you. He manages to find the one spot that causes you to feel a euphoria you've never known before, with his tongue and with his fingers, and holy shit, does he know how to work it with them.

"Oh, my - Eddie," you groan, and you feel his chuckle vibrate against your core.

"You know, sweetheart, I believe the phrase people use is oh my god."

Groaning at the sensation, you cry, "Fuck, when you make me feel this good, what's the difference?"

Eddie's entire demeanour changes. He looks at you in a way that excites you from the inside out. Yearning becomes possessiveness, along with a confidence you've never seen to him. He ducks back down to ravish you with the fervour of a man on death row eating his last meal, still massaging your clit just as gently as before. All of it is enough for you to climax over your best friend's tongue, screaming a string of mixed encouragements and profanities in the process.

You barely have time to appreciate the look of his ecstatic face absolutely smothered in your juices before he stands up, licking all around his mouth and pulling his belt undone. "Get on your knees, on the floor," he commands, and you instantly comply, though your legs feel weak when you bear your weight onto them.

Eddie's jeans and boxers fly to the floor with an almighty thud, which almost distracts you from the sight of his hungry eyes on you as he lazily strokes his cock. Thick, but not painful-looking. Long, but enough to not let any go to waste. Pink at the tip, veins all around. Adorned with a bushy mess of hair. Just perfect. "Say it again," Eddie commands, his tone deeper, darker.

You look up at him with a genuinely innocent curiosity. "Say what?"

"Fuck, you - you calling me a - a god really fucked me up, just, please say it again."

Biting your lip in anticipation, knowing you could make him feel things he's never felt before with one sentence, you look up at him and grin, "Eddie Munson, you are a total sex god."

However, it's you who's enamoured as he groans, his hand moving faster than ever, twisting around his member as his free hand beckons you to kneel up higher. You do so and he commands, "Spit on it." You comply and sink back down to sit on your knees, knowing you now want nothing more than to follow Eddie's every word to a T. Maybe he is a sex god. Eddie holds his palm out flat beneath his cock to also spit on it himself, lubing himself up and moaning the whole time. You watch the way it moves and you feel your mouth start to fall open. He smirks when he notices, "Go on, see what happens."

You let your jaw drop and your tongue loll out wide and flat as you keep watching intently. Your whimper almost comes out as a full-on cry as he flicks his spit-drenched erection all across your face - except for on your tongue, where you craved for him to be inside of your mouth. In a desperate plea, you cry out, "Oh, p-please, fuck, I'll do anything!"

Eddie worries his lower lip beneath his teeth in contemplation for a beat. A fistful of your hair flies into one hand, pushing it back until you're looking up at him, your neck taut. He holds his cock just below your lower lip with the other hand. He looks down at you, his eyes so blown out that they look black, and with the most confident tone you've ever heard from him, he asks, "You gonna pray to me while you're on your knees? Devote every waking moment to worshipping me?"

"Y-yes, god." You expect to do a lot more convincing than that, but something about looking Eddie dead in the eye and calling him that has him sliding his head just over your lip gently before roughly pushing your head down and thrusting up until your nose is nestled amongst the wiry hair spread beneath. You quickly try to remember all the tricks you'd read in the magazines: squeezing your left thumb in your fist, focusing on breathing through your nose. You manage to stay long enough for Eddie to let out the most pornographic of moans before tapping out, to which he hurriedly takes himself out and looks at you with great concern.

You meet his gaze with an appreciative smile and a nod, completely ignoring the trail of drool still connecting you to him. Before he can say anything more, your hand is wrapped around him, pumping his cock with ease, "Gonna -" you pause for a second as you realise how gravelly your voice is after that, but continue - "gonna wake up, every day, n' worship your cock, however you want me." Eddie again grabs your hair, affectionately pushing your head around in all directions. Feeling a spike deep within your core at the sensation of your hair being pulled around too, you whine as you add, "'m gonna be there… Whenever, wherever you need me, an' - I'll only fall asleep while you're deep inside me, holding all your cum." Needing him in your mouth again, you suckle on his balls while playing your fingertips around them, too.

"Fuck," Eddie yells, "Alright, get back up, onto the bed, on your back." You don't need to be told twice. You practically launch yourself onto the mattress, the creaks of the springs foreshadowing the symphony you're about to create. He throws your legs upwards and outwards, and you silently comply with holding the backs of your knees as close to your shoulders as you can. You feel him trailing the tip of his head along your folds, so close. Your hips start to wriggle instinctively, but you hold back, seeing in Eddie's expression just how much he gets off to being in control. He notices and smirks, "Oh I know, aren't I being terrible… Is my sinful little slut resisting temptation for me?" You nod, and honestly, the way his toothy grin ever so slowly creeps along his face is the truly sinful act here. "Words, please."

"Y-yes, god, want you to fuck me, please," you beg. "Am I worthy now?"

"Always have been," he breathes before finally sliding into you. He feels so full, but effortlessly so. Like a key that finally presses all the lock mechanisms just right. And fuck, was he pressing all of you just right. "Yeah, I know, baby, I know," he soothes as you writhe against him, leaning over you to kiss down your jaw to your neck.

"Fuck, Eddie, wanted this for - so long," you mewl as your hips buck down onto him every time he pulls back.

"Yeah?" he smirks, knowing what you're craving and pulling out further every time before pushing in just as deeper. "My little pervert's been thinking about this, has she?" You look away bashfully, but he moves your face to look back at him. "Hey, hey," he soothes, "you know how hot that is, now I know? Because fuck knows how many wet dreams you've starred in."

He doesn’t give you the time to imagine him masturbating over the thought of you, all alone in this very bed. Angling himself to lean back just a little, he aims himself just at that part he was hitting with his tongue and his fingers earlier, that drove you wild. Your eyes roll back as your grip falters from your legs. You dig your fingertips into the mattress as you feel yourself starting to come apart once again. "Hnnn, fuck, I'm gonna - please, can I -?"

"Shit, I'm close, too. Ah fuck, look at you, look at me! Getting to fuck the most beautiful girl in the world, and she's my best friend? Fucking jackpot." He leans over you, fists pushing into the mattress either side of you, his nose barely touching yours, as he looks you deep in the eyes, his still blown into dark voids of total corruption. "Now c'mon, baby, tell me again. Who's your fucking god?"

You groan, "It's you, god, Eddie, god!" You clench around him just as you feel him filling you up, warm spurts of cum lining your insides. He stays inside of you, thrusting more and more gently until he eventually comes to a complete standstill.

He still remains inside you, hovering over you, but his tired expression is far softer. "Holy fucking shit," he breathes, "that was intense."

"Yeah," you admit, "but in a good way, right?"

"Oh, absolutely," Eddie leans down to kiss you sweetly, gently. He caresses your face with a genuine adoration. "So, uh… If that's just a taste of what sex with you is like… Wanna bump that whole marriage thing up to next week?"

You reach up and cup his jaw, cocking your head. "Oh, sweetie. Go get us cleaned up, then find a suit. We're going to the courthouse first thing tomorrow morning."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut

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aphroditelovesu · 3 months

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Hey, i'm also from brazil and i love the way you write! Taking advantage of the fact that I saw you talking about yandere apollo pjo, could you do some headcanons about what he would be like due to the differences? like, in today's world. Would he look at your phone or something?

❝ ☀️ — lady l: it's a headcanon, in a way, but also an imagine, a combo of both! I ended up geting excited and focusing more on the platonic part and I hope everything it's! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes!

❝tw: obsessive and overprotective behavior and fluffy.

❝☀️pairing: yandere pjo!apollo x gender neutral!reader.

❝word count: 742.

Apollo is the god of poetry and will always be writing the most beautiful poems for you. All of his hymns will be dedicated to you and any pop influence he will use as inspiration to worship you. Apollo dedicates each verse to you, each word carefully thought out in the overwhelming love that the god feels, transforming pop influences into hymns of worship.

In the intervals between his divine exploits, Apollo is captured by the passion of modern melodies. Transforming pop influences into passionate songs, his lyres resonate in heavenly places, echoing the immortal feelings he has for his earthly muse.

Apollo as a divine father is smothering and protective. He doesn't give a damn about the rules that govern the gods, not when it comes to his favorite child. He will distribute gifts, presents and will help and support them in everything he can. Apollo will always make it clear that they are his greatest pride.

As you face challenges and monsters, Apollo protects you, interfering in divine destinies when necessary. The sun god becomes a constant presence, guiding and encouraging his favorite child to embrace its heroic nature. Apollo, the divine father, defies heavenly rules in the name of love for his child, doling out divine gifts and guiding them along the path to greatness.

One day, while you were facing a particularly difficult challenge, Apollo decided to intervene in a more direct way. He descended from Olympus, enveloped in golden light, and appeared at your side. His presence was warm and comforting, like the rays of the sun emanating from his divine form.

"My dear child," Apollo said with a beaming smile. "The time has come for me to join you on this journey. Together, we will face the challenges that present themselves, and I will guide you with my divine light."

Apollo watched with beaming pride as his child flourished under divine tutelage. He guided the mortal steps with the light of knowledge, shaping the favorite's destiny as a sculptor carves a masterpiece. Each of his child's deeds was a glorious echo of the pride Apollo felt, reflected in the rays of sunlight that illuminated his celestial face.

Apolo is very connected to modern technology, oddly enough. He would have a cell phone, the best and most expensive, and it would be full of photos of you. His music playlist would have all genres, an eclectic god, after all, he is also the god of music and appreciates all types, honoring his essence as the god of music.

He wouldn't touch your cell phone unless you allowed it or if he had some kind of suspicion. In this case, you can be sure that the god will search your cell phone in search of something. And he will definitely take selfies of himself to leave for you.

During moments of rest, Apollo shared divine stories and ancestral teachings with you. His words were like ethereal songs, dancing in the air and penetrating your heart. Each narrative was filled with wisdom and profound lessons, like the notes of an eternal melody.

On a starry night, after an especially epic victory over a colossal beast, Apollo gathered the gods and goddesses for a divine celebration on Olympus. Heavenly music filled the halls as everyone rejoiced in their achievements and the union between the divine and the mortal.

At the height of the party, Apollo raised his golden lyre and began to sing a song that transcended the limits of Olympus. His melodious voice resonated, telling the saga of his favorite child, full of courage, triumph and divine love. The song inspired tears of joy in the eyes of the gods and goddesses, witnessing the success of his protégé.

At the end of the performance, Apollo looked at you with pride in his eyes. "My child, you are a masterpiece that surpasses any divine song. Your heart is a melody that enchants the gods and transforms Olympus into a more radiant place. May your journey continue to shine like the stars that adorn the night sky."

Since that day, the bond between you and Apollo has only grown stronger. The god's blessings continued to guide you, while the teachings shared under the stars became a beacon of wisdom on his journey. And so, under the protection and love of Apollo, the heroic epic unfolded, marking destiny with the eternal light of the god of music and poetry.

#pjo #percy jackson #the trials of apollo #apollo x reader #pjo!apollo #yandere pjo #yandere percy jackson #yandere apollo #yandere apollo x reader #yandere greek mythology #greek mythology #greek gods x reader #yandere greek gods #yandere headcanons #headcanons #imagine #yandere au #platonic yandere

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windsweptinred · 1 year

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Hob: I've been wondering... If Desire always meddles in Dream's affairs, why have they never set their sights on me? Not that I want that ofcourse! But surely as a simple human I'm an easy target?

Death: Oh I asked a boon off an old friend.

Hob: A boon?

Death: All I had to do was promise you'd turn up on June 7th, every hundred years. Drink wine and make merry by the hearth light and toast to the simple human pleasures it brings ... And in return she'd keep you hidden from the gaze of my sibling.

Hob: Wait, but I thought our first meeting was purely happenstance! You planned the whole thing! Me.. Him! Putting the idea in his head! Right down to the day?!

Death: Well it had to be June the 7th, start of Vestalia, the festival of the Goddess Vesta Goddess of Hearth and Home. You offer her a toast of sweet wines by her sacred flame, and she in turn shares with you her unique godly gift. To not be maliciously bent or ensnared by Venus...Or in our case, Desire.

Hob: Wait, Vesta!...As in...

Death: The Vestal Virgins. Yes! You've been her first male, and may I add, longest serving priestess she's ever had.

Hob: But, but... I'm not..

Death: Oh she knows. She says your pure, reverent affection and quite frankly astounding patience for my... (And this is a direct quote) 'Brooding donkey' of a brother has been virtue enough. Don't tell Dream she knows though. She's had this whole epic, jump scare/divine matriarchal dress down planned since 1689...For the day he finally pulls his head out of his posterior and 'deflowers' you. Something about making an honest vestal out of you and demanding a June wedding in her honour. We can't wait to see his face!!

Hob: (Chocking on his drink)

#Hob: I ❤️ chimneys #Vesta: Aww I'm going to keep you #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #death of the endless #the goddess vesta #Keep that hearth in the New Inn tended well Hob #Death the cosmos greatest matchmaker #Managed to get an Up Pompeii reference in there 😆

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glosschi · 10 months

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If there is no death, how can there be life?

Dinghai Fusheng Lu

#anime quote #dinghai fusheng lu #epic of divinity light #Dinghai Fusheng Records

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smallgodseries · 1 year

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[image description: A tiny spaceship is caught like a firefly in an airless canning jar. Its golden exhaust providing the only light in the scene. Text (molded into the glass of the jar) reads, “204, Fox Mason, the small god of ACTUAL Cancellation”]

• • • • •

Gods are made of belief. Humans believe. Humans, small and weak as they are individually, must therefore be said to make gods. Gods can do epic, amazing things that humans could never accomplish, but which humans are capable of dreaming of, for a human couldn’t imagine it, a god couldn’t do it. That is the one true limitation of the divine: it is bounded by the limits of human imagination. But here is the secret: human imagination has no limits, and thus the only limitation of the divine is no limitation at all.

Humans believe. Humans secrete story, making pearls out of every scrap of sand that works its way into their psyches, and they spread those stories around, making a cultural moment out of believing the same pretty lies. Stories are incubators for gods, warm, safe places where belief can take root and grow. More than a few gods have begun from such seeds. The others do not shame them for such beginnings, for they are not chosen, but granted.

As time has passed, the shapes of those stories have changed, and the methods by which they may be shared have changed along with them. No longer is it single storytellers around fires at night: it is entire productions, attractive people in shining costumes, industries built on dreams.

But a dream is a fragile scaffold unless it attracts belief to itself with speed. Far too many dreams, built too high too fast, find themselves collapsing under the weight of their own industry. That’s where Fox comes in.

Fox is where dreams go to die. Fox lures them in with pretty words and shiny trinkets, promises them a pantheon, and then, when they fail to bring the believers in quickly enough, or when those believers belong to the wrong demographic, they pull the scaffolding away and leave the dream to collapse.

What Fox cancels does not return. What Fox jars does not rise again.

And yet dreamers keep following their light, believing that this time, it will be different. And it is, just often enough to make their beliefs understandable: sometimes, Fox takes mercy.

Not often, though.

In Fox’s den, dreams die.

#Small Gods #smallgodseries #seanan mcguire #lee moyer #icons and stories

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goodvibesatpeace · 2 months

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Energy

The energy within us is divine

A force that courses through our spine

Each chakra, a wheel of light

Guiding us through day and night

From root to crown, they all align

In harmony, they make us shine

But when they're blocked, our energy depletes

Till we're left feeling incomplete

The first, our base, where it all begins

A red vortex, where our safety lies within

Stability and grounding, we find here

In our body, it's the foundation of all we hold dear

Then comes the sacral, a vibrant orange hue

Where our emotions flow, both old and new

Our desires and passions, they all reside

In this chakra, where our creative power lies inside

Next in line, the solar plexus glows

A yellow fire, where our confidence grows

Our willpower and strength, it all stems

From this chakra, guiding us towards our greatest dreams

As we move up, the heart chakra beats

In emerald green, where love truly meets

For ourselves, for others, and for all living things

This chakra teaches us the power that love brings

Throat chakra, a azure blue

Where our truth is spoken, both old and new

Communication, expression, and speaking our mind

In this chakra, our voice is one of a kind

Then we reach the third eye, a deep indigo

Where our intuition and wisdom flows

Insight and clarity, it's all here

In this chakra, our inner vision becomes clear

Last but not least, the crown chakra shines

A majestic violet, where the divine aligns

Our connection to the universe, to all that is

In this chakra, our true self we rediscover and bliss

Our body, a vessel for these chakras to thrive

Each one vital, for our energy to thrive

In balance, we find our truest form

A passionate being, with our chakras transformed

So let our energy flow ever so free

In harmony and unity, with our true self we'll be

Embrace the complex, the passion within

For our chakras are our greatest epic, our journey to begin.

#spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled writing #spilled thoughts #spilled words #poet #poets on tumblr #poem #poetry #original poem #writers and poets #writing #writers on tumblr #my poem #my writing #chakras #energy #epic #goodvibesatpeace

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ryndicate · 1 year

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The Light of No Moon ⨳ Michael Kaiser

This man has too much favor from the gods, you realize with terror. You should never have come here.

notes: this took me way too long but i do not have to tell you how perfect it is that Michael Kaiser is playing the role of Narcissus??

event: for @dark-mnjiro ‘s Taste of Divine Rush collab. My absolute bad for posting it so late, but aha! Now I get to have a post that says ~happy birthday to you~ now forever on my blog to last through the ages.

warnings: starts soft and whimsical ends kinda dark and spooky ish. At least for me. Implied noncon, might add to this another time! I never say his name but i describe him! its definitely him~

Blog Rules/DNI

You’d stumbled across the man on accident, really. Some of the elder women had asked you to climb the mountain path to dig up some roots for a meal they were planning for the village. Not one to make those older than you do unnecessary work, you’d found your way to the footpaths, but after straying away in search of the roots you’d gotten lost.

The sun was beginning to set, and you had been growing more worried; you’d never been out of the village past dark without your brothers or uncle before. The summer was just beginning, and the pack animals were flourishing this year. You were easy prey for young wolves or bears. You had almost lost hope when you saw him, breaking through the trees—and there you see him.

Maybe it’s because you’re already so frightened, but to you, you’ve never seen a man whose presence is more calming than his. Your heart settles immediately. He sits serenely, in pure quiet, gazing into the water. No part of him moves as you approach, nothing to show that he knows you’re there.

“Hello?” you call to him softly, but he gives no sign of hearing you, and with a fresh trickle of worry you wonder if he might be deaf. If you are not safe out here, then neither is he. You consider calling into the woods, because surely a man like him wasn’t left to his own? But after a long clear cry of a wolf in the distance, you decide it unwise.

You circle the man, calling to him once more, but again he doesn’t answer and so you sit by his side, and peer closely at his face as the full moon begins to shine down on you both. Suddenly your breath feels stuck in your throat.

His face is more beautiful than any woman’s in your village, more handsome than any of the hunter’s. His skin is sunkissed and smooth, looking as soft as a flower petal. You lean closer to see thick lashes framing eyes just as blue as the cool water at your feet, brighter than the starlight beginning to spread across the sky. You resist a deep urge to thread your finger through his hair, an odd yet entrancing honey color with berry blue streaks. You’ve seen reds, even herbal green dyes on your spiritual elders, but never a color as this. It’s as if Aphrodite herself had created the lover of her dreams from the sun and the sky, and somehow here he sits in wait for her, in blissful ease of his sole purpose to be admired.

With nothing else to do, and no desire to be once again lost in the woods, you sit with him. But despite his obvious contentment for quietude, you feel unrest, and so you speak to him. All through the night, it’s as if you do not exist. You tell him things you never thought you’d get to say to anyone; you tell him all the things of him you find lovely in the words that you know, knowing full well he’s probably heard more eloquent phrase in both song and epic—but you tell him nonetheless, and he does naught but sit, because you cannot claim to know if he listens.

The stars glitter in full, brighter, expanding, until they begin to dim and then fade and only then do you hear the howls of creatures you don’t fear: the hunting dogs of home. You scramble to your feet and give the handsome stranger one last glance before running through the trees towards the clamoring cries that lead you towards home.

It’s a long time before you manage to sneak out of the village again. Uncle didn’t mind so much, but your brothers barely let you out of their sight. It wasn’t until the half moon, the night all the men in village retired to their beds early in preparation for a competitive hunt, that you managed to to evade their protective gazes. You were tearing through the woods at once, eager and apprehensive, half-convinced the beautiful man was something you imagined that night lost in the woods. Surely a man like him is couldn’t possibly exist? But as you break through the trees to the familiar little pond, all your musings are left to dust.

It seems as if he hasn’t moved even a breath, just as you left him. You return to his side as if you belong there and regale his wall of silence with every tale of your past fortnight that you can think of. How the women brought you berries and cream the morning you made your way home, ridden with guilt for sending you into the mountains alone. You tell him of the shell bracelet your uncle bought you at the gypsy market, and stories of the ocean that the travelers had told him. You even tell him of the night Meguru put a spider's nest into Yoichi’s bed and the fight that followed—you don’t think you’ve ever seen your brothers so angry with each other. Your favorite dinners, the constellations you were learning, how frustrating the textile patterns are that you’re trying to perfect for the end summer markets; you tell him of every little mundane thing in your small village life, things he’s probably never had to deal with. You talk until there’s nothing left to talk about, and then you stare. You stare until you start to feel cold and realize the sun in beginning to set once more and scramble to your feet. If you don’t make it home before your brothers then who knows when you’ll be able to come back?

You sprint through the trees, the path towards home becoming more familiar as your wistfulness to go back grows. Each day that passes is filled with apprehension that one day he’ll be gone before you can look at him one last time. But each day you manage to go see him assauges that fear, now drifting further and further from your mind as the village settles and everyone and your brothers seem to forget the night you went missing. It gets easier slipping from your home both day and night to disappear into the woods.

Tonight you bring a lantern with you, no moon to light your way and the stars covered by cloud. The forest seems colder and every cracked twig makes you want to jump, in fear that an animal is tracking your step. But the festering, obsessive desire to see his face again consumes you and drives you forward, until you break through the trees—and you stop dead.

There’s no one sitting by the pool of water.

You nearly drop the lantern in upset and dash forward, looking back and forth frantically as a thick bubble of panic swells up in your chest. He’s gone? Will you ever get to see that beautiful face again? Something akin to grief breaks through you like a flood that you can’t even begin to scold yourself for. It truly feels as if you’ve lost something precious. Your beautiful little secret in the woods. For the past moon, your every thought has revolved around him and now he’s suddenly torn from your grasp. How are you supposed to just…go back to the way things were.

“Is that you?”

Your whole body lurches away from the sound as a voice trills up behind you. You can’t explain why you drop the lantern and run, you can’t explain why you hide among the trees any more than you could explain why you don’t just go home. Your pulse thunders in your ears, scratchy bark against your arms as you try you settle your heart and listen. Maybe you imagined the voice? Even now the memory of it is already fading, you can’t recall if it had come from a man or a woman, you simply had fled.

It rings out again, and you inhale sharply. Man, it’s definitely man.

“I can hear you, I know you’ve been watching me. I understand, little one—now won’t you come out? I must repay you for your company.”

You would think for a man who spends his existence staring silently into a pool of water would have a voice as terrifying as he is lovely, and in many ways you’re right, but it’s not quite as you thought. He shouldn’t sound so beautiful. His voice should be ragged and hoarse, not kitten soft; it should be rasping and choked, not warm and syrupy. But for all its sweetness, something unsavory makes you want to run and run and never stop.

But he’s so very close. He’s right behind the tree you hidden yourself behind. He’s already found you and yet he waits. Calm. Sure of himself.

This man has too much favor from the gods, you realize with terror. You should never have come here.

Swallowing back a whimper, you peek around the tree to see his darkened silhouette. You’ve spent so long watching him that you don’t need light to recognize him. You can barely see the glint in his eyes, but it feels as if you’re a bunny caught in the eyes of a fox.

“Oh, so this is the little thing who comes to see me?” He smiles, eyeing you up and down and you don’t know what to make of the critical gaze he sets on you.

But you manage to find your voice. “I didn’t know you’d heard me. I thought you didn’t… you never—”

“There is nothing more interesting than myself, I’m sure you would agree,” he says, his voice softer than silk. “But on a night like this, the one thing I care about is taken from me. I usually spend the night wandering in darkness but you’re here. My little admirer. How fortunate am I? I was just thinking how unfair it is to be left here like this, that I deserved something in return for what was taken from me.”

“I don’t- I should be getting home,” you whisper, rooted to the spot as he takes another step forward.

“But what if you stayed with me awhile, don’t you usually?” He coos invitingly, sending a shiver up your spine.

You nod, helpless as he draws a finger under your chin, raising it. You jump as his other hand splays across your covered breast, too dark to have expected his touch. You see a hint of blue in the darkness this time, his eyes so close to yours; a muted flash of white as he grins, apparently pleased with the way you wilt at his touch, now pressing you harshly into the very tree that had been your haven just a few moments ago.

Despite the way he closes around you the way thorns choke a rose, your thoughts still rise to the heavens in apology and pray that nothing you do upsets him, for fear that any of his patrons would take their anger out for displeasing one of their favored creations.

reblogs & comments appreciated!~

#michael kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #todrcollab

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mask131 · 4 months

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I already made a post about it before, but since a lot of people are coming around for more Greek mythology content, I thought "Why not take off the dust from old talks?", and thus here is my redo-post about the Homeric vs Hesiodic tradition.

I am summarizing here greatly but... We all know that Homer's epics (The Odyssey and the Iliad), and Hesiod's works (The Theogony, Of Works and Days) form the "basis" of Greek mythology as we know it today, as they are the oldest literary records of Greek mythology we have, and the Ancient Greeks themselves shared the same opinion, even going as far as using them and analyzing them to understand their own religion.

And yet, despite this set of works being considered together as a "whole", Hesiod and Homer actually presented two different visions of the Greek mythology and the Greek pantheon, often contradicting - and many of the "There's thousands versions of a same myth" trend about Greek mythology comes from the fact that these two fundamental set of works were already in conflict.

Why? Long story short it is agreed that Homer was the oldest of the two, and that in his works he reflected an older, more primitive state of the Greek religion and Greek gods. Meanwhile Hesiod, the "youngest", collected a more modern and recent set of beliefs that would become the dominant Greek theology of Ancient Greece. There's a lot of interesting debate and scholarly study about this, but in this post I just want to collect and highlight a few key differences between the "Homeric" and "Hesiodic" traditions, to again remind people that you are not always forced to stick to one version, since already at the beginning of all there were TWO recorded versions, from which many many more different spawned afterward...

KEY DIFFERENCE 1: Everybody knows Hesiod's Theogony, and how from Chaos came Gaia and Ouranos, and from them came the Titans, and then the Olympians. One long genealogy dating back from the Earth and the Sky out of the primordial void... And yet Homer hints heavily at another cosmogony, where Oceanus/Okeanos and Tethys are not actually part of the Titan siblings (as Hesiod claims)... But the origin of all things. The parents of all the gods, and the source of all life, as many divine beings (from Hera to Hypnos) explain repeatedly. The clues scattered throughout the Iliad and the Odyssey point out to the fact the "cosmic couple" might have been originally the water deities of the sea and ocean, before being replaced by the sky-and-earth one ; and this puts under a very different light why the two stayed "neutral" during the conflict, and why Oceanos and Tethys would end up sheltering Hera during Zeus' attack against Kronos...

Key difference 2: Everybody knows the story of Aphrodite being born from Ouranos' sexual organs being cut off by Kronos and thrown into the sea... And yet Homer tells a very different story about Aphrodite being actually a daughter of Zeus. Her mother is a mysterious goddess named Dione - I say mysterious because outside of Homer, and a handful of other things, we know barely anything about her. Most of what we know is that she had an actual worship in the old Greek religion (the grove of Dodona was dedicated to her), and that all analysis and studies point out to her being a female version/counterpart of Zeus. If I recall well, from Homer making her a secondary character in his epics (with a famous scene of her comforting her wounded daughter), Hesiod made her a mere name dropped among the Oceanids.

Key difference 3: In a continuation of the previous difference, Eris, the goddess of discord, also has different parentages in both tradition. According to Homer, Eris was Ares' sister (and thus the daughter of Zeus and Hera) ; Hesiod rather described her as one of the many children of Nyx, the primordial goddess of the night. (In fact, in the Hesiodic tradition Eris took example on her mother and gave birth in turn to many malevolent and destruction personifications ; this was not the case in the Homeric works).

Key difference 4: The story of Hephaestus/Hephaistos being born of Zeus and Hera the... let's say "regular" way comes from the Homeric tradition. Hesiod actually depicts a very different birth-story ; and in quite a twist, most people today remember Homer's genealogy than Hesiod's one. For you see, in Hesiod, Hephaistos was actually conceived by Hera alone, without any male intervention. She had grown jealous of Zeus having a daughter of his own (with Athena coming out of his head). She basically interpreted this as her husband "showing off" and somehow trying to prove he did not need women to have children (I am extrapolating here but that's the core idea) ; so in return Hera decided to have a child all on her own too, and she managed to fall pregnant and have a son with her own power, no Zeus or other god involved... But the result was Hephaistos, ugly and lame.

Key difference 5: Homer placed a lot more focus on Helios than Hesiod. In fact, Helios is so present and so involved in the Homeric epics that he is basically the unofficial "thirteenth Olympian". And, while in Hesiod's Theogony the name "Hyperion" designates one of the Titans born of Gaia and Ouranos, and the father of Helios, Selene and Eos ; in the Homeric epics, instead "Hyperion" is a qualificative/synonym/alternate name of Helios himself, and not at all a distinct entity.

Key difference 6: In Hesiod's cosmogony, the Moirai are a trinity of goddesses, each with their specific name and function - the goddesses we know today. Hesiod even gives two CONTRADICTING birth-stories to explain the origin of the Moirai (if having two conflicting "founding fathers" wasn't enough, we now have a guy who contradicts HIMSELF). Hesiod alternatively describes the Moirai as either daughters of Nyx (and so part of these primordial deities of darkness and doom born somewhere in the mysterious beginnings of time) ; either as daughters of Zeus and Themis (and in this version they explicitely received their powers over fate from Zeus himself).

In Homer, the Moirai are much less defined and personified - in fact, many times - almost all the time - he refers to Fate/Destiny as a singular entity. Not only is the fate goddess singular (except for some parts of his epics that evoke a group of "weavers"), but she is as I said not very personified, not given any attribute, genealogy or description, to the point that... it seems that she was just a poetic metaphor, a rhetorical allegory, a personification more than a goddess. Instead, in the Homeric world it is Zeus that fills the role of the god of fate and destiny - changing fates and weighing destinities on his own ; a far cry from the future image of a Zeus that must bow to the laws of fate.

There are many, many more differences to point out between Homer and Hesiod - but I think those selected fews are enough to show that, even in its "foundations", Greek mythology kept offering alternative and variations ; and that by putting the ancient works back in a correct chronology order, we get fascinating evolutions (Oceanos and Tethys replaced by Gaia and Ouranos ; Zeus losing the paternity of many important goddesses ; Zeus losing his place as a god of fate ; Helios losing importance as time went on, entire deities disappearing such as Dione...)

#greek mythology #homer #hesiod #homeric tradition #greek gods #hesiodic tradition #moirai #zeus #dione #titans #aphrodite #eris #helios #hyperion #hephaestus #hephaistos #hera

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