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mydadleft471 · 6 months ago

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A Jester Indeed

Summary: You've heard tales of Messmer the Impaler from other Tarnished. They say he's a monster, that his flame will burn through your armor to the bone, and that he is not to be trifled with. So what happens when you, a not-so-serious individual, fight the Impaler and show him mercy?

Spoilers for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. Some warnings of violence, fighting, blood, and a stupid Tarnished.

This was a request from anonymous! They requested, "Messmer with a Tarnished reader who chose to spare him at the end of their battle, and she frequently comes by to annoy him." This was so fun, thanks anon! I wasn't sure how to incorporate the Tarnished coming back to annoy him, so I just made her a little shit whenever possible lmao. Hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting! I've gotten back into writing because of everyone's continued love and support and I can't begin to thank you guys enough! <3

You were so in over your head.

Traveling to the Land of Shadow was an ordeal all by itself. As you carved your path of carnage throughout the Lands Between, you’d killed many. It did not matter what they were; if they didn’t want to talk it out, you knew there was only one way it would end. No matter how many times you died, which had to be in the hundreds by now, you would come back and try again. Victory had always tasted so sweet.

As did the amount of runes some bosses dropped.

Seeking out the Lord of Blood was certainly a task, but you had also found the husk of Miquella, Malenia’s twin brother forever cursed to be a child. Disgust must’ve been obvious on your features as Mohg appeared out of a pool of blood and referred to Miquella as dearest. You had a feeling you wouldn’t mind ending the Lord of Blood.

You did mind, however, the amount of bloodflame he threw at you. His trident could kill you in one hit if you weren’t careful, and it did, many times. Eventually though, he fell just like the rest. After you lit the site of Grace near Miquella’s cocoon and sat down, you noticed someone standing a few feet in front of you. They were donned in gold and black armor with an ornately embroidered white cloak. Carefully, you rose, ready to fight if necessary.

She introduced herself as Needle Knight Leda, in service to Miquella the Kind. She told you that if you wished to travel to the Land of Shadow, all you needed to do was touch the withered arm dangling lifelessly outside of the cocoon. Noticing your hesitation to follow someone you had just met, she tells you of her compatriots that would offer you assistance when you arrived.

You were never one to shy away from challenge and adventure, so you rested your hand upon the cold, much larger one. In an instant, your vision went white and suddenly you stood in an unfamiliar place. It almost reminded you of where you first woke up after crossing the fog, but it was more foreboding. You shrugged off the feeling of anxiety and started up the hill in front of you.

After stepping out into the open and seeing the vast landscape before you, you knew you had to explore every inch of this place. You would discover why this place was hidden, and you would almost certainly fight challengers tougher than you could imagine. The thought alone sent shivers of anticipation down your spine. With Torrent by your side, you embarked on your journey throughout the Land of Shadow.

That anticipation that had once set your soul ablaze was now fear coursing through your veins. After weeks of fighting, you had reached the Shadow Keep, home of Messmer the Impaler, who was another of Queen Marika’s children. Messmer’s guards and knights were no joke, and you had met your demise at their hands more times than you could count. But you had persisted and cut your way through his numbers, and here you were: in front of an imposing and cold metal door that would certainly lead to your number of deaths reaching the thousands.

Everything you had heard about Messmer was terrifying. You were unsure if you would actually best him. Many other Tarnished you’d met along your travels spoke of his flame, scorching and unnatural, searing them down to the bone before they were impaled on Messmer’s spear.

You tried to keep your spirits high. You had fought and beat Radahn, once known as the mightiest demigod of the Shattering. You’d killed Mohg. You even killed Miquella’s sister, Malenia, the Goddess of Rot.

So why were you standing here shaking like it was your first encounter with combat?

You sighed and knew you’d have to will yourself to open the door in front of you. Throwing caution to the wind and ignoring your nerves begging you to turn back, you pushed the heavy metal door open and stood in the doorway. You flinched and closed your eyes, expecting your death to be immediate. But you were fine.

Taking a few tentative steps into the room, you realized that it was almost entirely dark. A few candles sputtered weakly along the floor, but that was it. Perhaps the Impaler was out?

Your hopeful thoughts quickly died as the room lit up. Hundreds of candles sparked to life within mere seconds. You drew your weapon and looked around the room, your heart beating wildly against your ribcage.

“Mongrel intruder.”

A low, stern voice echoed throughout the room, sending shivers down your spine. Looking towards the center of the room, you shrieked when you saw a red snake hovering in front of you. It wasn’t poised to strike however, so you, although a stupid idea, reached out to pat its head.

“Thou’rt Tarnished, it seemeth.”

The snake began to slink away from your outstretched hand. You saw a large towering figure sat on a throne in the very back of the room.

Messmer the Impaler.

“I am, yes. Why does that matter?” Your voice shakes and comes out weak.

He stands up, seemingly ignoring you. You realize how he towers over you.

“Mother, wouldst thou truly lordship sanction in one so bereft of light?” He does not sound amused.

“I don’t want to fight you. ” You realize that might not seem convincing with your sword drawn.

“Yet… my purpose standeth unchanged.” He saunters towards you.

You really shouldn’t be here.

“Those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death. In the embrace of Messmer’s flame.” From his hand, fire erupts and swirls, but it’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It’s darker, a deep crimson with black tendrils dancing around like snakes. It’s beautiful, yet horrifying.

“But I can see sites of Grace! There’s one right outside your door!” You plead with him, your voice unnaturally high with fear. He pauses for a second, mulling over your words. Then his brow hardens and his gleaming gold eye narrows.

“The Tarnished, graceless and stricken, is also a liar, it seemeth.”

You were stupid and brave, but a liar? That crossed a line.

With his words as your only warning, he leaps into the air, creating an inferno of raging fire. He slams down next to you and you barely have time to roll out of the way. The explosion clouds your vision, and you don’t catch him hurtling towards you. His spear rams through your stomach as if you weren’t wearing armor, and you scream. Your hands grasp the handle where it impales you and it’s sticky with blood. Your blood.

Messmer comes closer as you fall to the floor. You have to admit, he’s quite handsome, even with your blurred vision. You don’t think telling him that would spare you.

“I don’t want to fight.” Your voice comes out weak and you spit out blood on the floor next to you. You’re beginning to fade.

His eye glows a blinding gold as he stands above you. He seethes with disgust.

“Then thou shalt run. Thine wishes are an impossibility. But rest assured, Tarnished,” he spits the word like an insult, and brings his face closer to yours. “The Impaler will see to it that thy fate never cometh to fruition. Thou shalt perish here, as many times as necessary.”

With those words, you fade away and return to the site of Grace outside his door. You lay there in stunned silence for a few seconds before you dare to sit up. Looking towards the fog wall in front of you, you question yourself. Could you really defeat Messmer? He’s made his intentions crystal clear and you know that each time you face him, it will end in your painful death.

No, you say to yourself. You take a few deep breaths and make a conscious effort to not give into the fear he instilled in you. That’s what he wants. He wants you to be afraid to face him, to give him the upper hand. But you won’t do that. Sure, he’s a demigod that’s launched an endless crusade on an entire race of people and has a curse that’s gotten him shunned from his Mother’s good graces, but you’re really good at fighting. And you’re persistent as hell.

Standing, you draw your weapon once more and walk through the fog wall.

He’s returned to his throne, and once he sees you, he grips his spear and stands.

“I warned thee, Tarnished. All thou wilt gain here is an acute understanding of agony.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I’ve faced demigods before and won. I’ve died countless times and came back. This fight won’t be any different.”

He is taken aback by your confidence, but he quickly regains his composure. His face hardens and he leaps into the air once again, flame encompassing his form.

“So be it.”

You dodge his inferno and sidestep him as he rushes at you. You have a feeling he uses his fire to disorient you and shroud himself. You would be wise to keep the distance between you two as close as possible.

“A spear is a horrible weapon for close combat!” You holler at him and see his eye narrow. You’ve successfully pissed him off.

He ignites his spear and soars through the air, then rushes at you with multiple jabs, and you successfully dodge all but one of his attacks. He slams down into the ground next to you, and right as you reach for your flask, a myriad of spears burst from the ground and quickly end you. As your vision fades, you see him above you once more, looking down at you with something you could almost call pity.

You re-enter his arena with little time between your attempts. Though he manages to best you over ten times, you are growing more certain in his attack patterns, and you can seamlessly dodge and punish most of his moves. On your 16th try, you’ve managed to only get hit twice throughout the fight so far, and you still have 9 remaining charges in your flask. You know he’s beginning to worry from the way his attacks grow more and more desperate. He stops charging deliberate moves and instead swings wildly at you in an attempt to kill you instantly.

After side-stepping his barrage and rolling through his summoned spears, you quickly deliver a swipe that cuts his stomach and sends him to his knees. You breathe out heavily and watch his every move with your sword at the ready in front of you.

“Bested, by a meek Tarnished…” His voice radiates with pain and humiliation. He looks at you, his eye dimmer than usual.

“Give up. I don’t want to kill you.” You hope he doesn’t push you to deal a final blow.

He weakly stands up, using his spear to hold him upright. He turns away, facing a giant statue of Marika holding a baby. How did you not notice that before?

“O Mother, forgive me.” You narrow your eyes and ready yourself for whatever he’s about to throw at you.

He reaches towards his eye that shines a brilliant gold as his long claws near it. In horror, you realize he is about to tear out his eye. Throwing your sword to the ground in an act of desperation, you fling yourself forward and catch his hand. Your weight makes him shift uneasily on his feet and you find yourself staring into the same eye he was about to pluck out.

He glances between your hands around his and your worried expression. He cannot understand why you would stop him. “Let go, Tarnished. I would give thee a fight to ne’er forget.”

You shake your head, clutching onto his hand tighter and trying your best to pull his arm down. “I’m not going to let you tear out your own eye! Are you crazy?”

“Thou hast me at thy mercy. Strike me down or release me.”

“I’ve told you before; I’m not going to kill you.”

His eye narrows and he releases his spear. It thuds onto the ground and the sound reverberates throughout the entire chamber. His other hand wraps around your neck, and he lifts you like you weigh nothing. You do not release his hand as you struggle to breathe.

“Thou’rt foolish and weak. Thy grace is false, thy blade is dull, and it seems thy mind is shattered.” He squeezes harder and you notice black spots in your vision. He peers into your eyes for the Grace you claim to have, and he sees flecks of gold dancing in your irises.

Hesitantly, he loosens his grip enough for you to breathe, but not enough to allow you your freedom. As expected, you heave in heavy gulps of air and cough. He wonders what Mother sees in you, a mere Tarnished, too weak to kill him but not strong enough to delay their inevitable demise at his hand.

“Thank you…” You mutter. You’re still clutching his hand.

“Why didst thou hesitate with thy blade?”

You give a tired and sputtering laugh. “Maybe I’m tired of killing.”

“Nonsense. Reveal the truth.”

“Will you at least put me down?”

He grits his teeth and slowly releases you. He expects you to immediately pick up your weapon and strike back, but you simply reach for one of your flasks.

You notice him watching you with caution. “May I?” You gesture to your flask.

“Fine.”

Unexpectedly, you close the gap between the two of you and unscrew the cork from the bottle. You then hand it over to him without a second thought.

He doesn’t move, too shocked by your sudden offer. This would heal him, and if he so chooses, he could kill you again with all his strength returned to him.

“I do not require that.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Would you please just indulge me? I think you owe me after how many times you killed me, don’t you think?”

Wordlessly, he reaches down and takes your flask. Tipping it back, the liquid warms him as it travels down his throat. He instantly feels better and the wounds you inflicted on him earlier dissipate. When he looks down again, he sees you smiling. He hands the flask back to you and you replace the cork, then store it away in a pouch on your belt.

“There, all better.”

“A duller foe I have never met.”

“And yet, here we are. So, what’s next? Are you going to talk with me, or do you feel like you need to kill me again?” You gesture at his spear still on the ground.

“Why wouldst thou grant me mercy?” His face pinches in confusion.

“Because you don’t deserve to die.” You answer.

“Dost thou consider themselves judge, jury, and executioner?”

“No, but I know enough to understand that you’ve been shunned and cast out by Queen Marika, just like me.”

A Tarnished who speaks ill of his mother? He had yet to wrap his head around that.

“Speak plainly.”

“Okay. I know your mother made you go on an endless crusade in her name against the Hornsent for whatever they did to her. She’s done the same with Godfrey in the Lands Between. The Mountaintops of the Giants, once a land covered in fire, now lay cold with bodies and snow as their only inhabitants. Now, she wants me to fight my way through her remaining children to claim their Great Runes so I can have the burden of becoming Elden Lord.”

“Mother chose-” he begins.

“She cast you out because of your curse.” You interrupt him and his eye blazes out of fury.

“How dare thee!” He bends down to pick up his spear. You hold up your hands and make no move to grab your weapon.

“I understand your pain. I’m cursed to die over and over again until I fulfill her wishes. She doesn’t care for me.” You keep your voice even.

“Thou will never understand my pain nor my curse.”

“Maybe not, but I understand how it feels to be cast out and sequestered without honor or glory.”

Why was he talking to you? He should’ve ended you the moment you gave him your flask. He should’ve killed you 20 times over by now.

But he hesitates.

“Tarnished. Thou hast granted me mercy. Thy reasoning I shall never understand. But thy words ring true and hold merit.”

“Does that mean you’ll stop killing me?”

“It means I shall consider ceasing hostilities towards you. Thy safety is not yet guaranteed.”

You groan. These demigods are always so complicated. “Then what do I have to do to get you to trust me?”

“Thou wilt tell me everything.”

You blink at him. “Okay. We could’ve avoided my painful demise many times over if you had just said that earlier.”

The grip on his spear tightens. “I shall make the memory a reality if thou dost not hold thy tongue.”

He’s met with silence. Perhaps you had finally learned when you were to speak. Or maybe you were just thinking of another clever quip that would make him doubt his decision to spare you.

The hilt of his spear hits the ground and he stands taller. His voice echoes around the room. “Thou wilt stay here, within the Keep, so that I may have eyes on thee at all hours of the day. Thou shalt be safe and comfortable in exchange for your knowledge.”

“You’re going to keep me prisoner?”

“Wouldst thou prefer a grave to a bed?”

“Fair point. We have a deal.”

You hold out your hand and he stares at you in bewilderment. He narrows his eye.

“What?”

You gesture to your hand. “It’s a deal. We’re supposed to shake hands to make it official.”

“I shalt not touch one so depraved.” He looks disgusted at the mention of touching you.

“Shake my hand or get used to killing me. Your choice, my Lord.”

“Thou wouldst jest, even now? When death stands before thee?”

“Can you just shake my hand?”

“...Fine.”

He reaches out and grasps your hand loosely, and you shake his hand. His skin is surprisingly soft. Just as you are about to say something, he pulls away.

“Come. Thy quarters are just down the stairs.”

“Good. I’m exhausted.”

“As am I,” he replies.

You follow him. “But I gave you my flask. You should feel fine.”

“Thou misunderstood. I am exhausted of thy prattling tongue.”

You scoff, which earns you a small smile from him. You are steeped in an uncomfortable silence as he leads you to your chambers. You walk down a long hallway lined with ornate paintings and trinkets. This is somewhere you had not been while you were fighting your way up to Messmer. You wonder if he knows how many of his men you had dispatched. Considering he granted you some semblance of mercy, you think he has yet to find out.

He stops at a large wooden door. Twisting the knob, the hinges creak like they haven’t been opened in a century. The room is full of dust and stagnant air, but is otherwise beautiful and luxurious.

“I shall have servants clean thy room, of course, but this is where thou shalt stay.”

“It’s pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed somewhere so nice.”

“For once, thy countenance is agreeable.”

“Well, for once, you’re being nice to me.”

His eye twitches in annoyance. “Was I not nice when I spared thee of another woeful death?”

“Seeing as I stopped you from plucking out your own eye, we’ll call it even.”

He felt like he was dealing with a petulant child whenever you opened your mouth to speak. Even threatening you with your demise just spurred you on.

“I shalt leave thee to thy quarters before my headache worsens.”

As he walks away, you call out to him. “Just admit that you haven’t had anyone so entertaining and interesting in your Keep, it’s okay!”

“Yes, my Keep hath never held a jester such as thee.” He replies over his shoulder, not caring if you heard him.

Smiling to yourself, you think that, yes, he does need a jester.

He’s much more handsome when he smiles.

#messmer the impaler #messmer x reader #messmer x tarnished #messmer the impaler x reader #elden ring x reader #elden ring messmer #i love tarnished being a little shit #an icon #where's my silly little hat messmer

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franzkafkagf · 3 months ago

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Targaryens love to glorify the fire, the conquest, the dragons—constantly obsessed with being the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror. But what if Aenys didn’t come from Aegon at all? What if the entire dynasty they’ve been killing each other over was founded on the union of a queen and a simple bard who just loved to hear her sing while he played his lute?

What if Aenys wasn't the trueborn son of Aegon, but instead the product of something completely unexpected—genuine, human love? Think about it. While Maegor embodies everything about Valyrian supremacy, bloodlines, strength through fire and blood (and let's be honest, probably born from blood magic because Aegon was infertile and Visenya wasn’t about to let the dream die), Aenys was... different. Aenys was soft, “weak”. But he was so profoundly human—he loved stories, the stars, music. If Maegor was a blade forged in black fire, Aenys was a quiet song lingering in the air.

And isn’t it fitting? The Targaryens repeat the same mistakes over and over again because they are obsessed with the idea that they’re descended from Aegon the Conqueror, when they are really all descendants of a queen and a lowly bard. That’s the irony—this family that prides itself on Valyrian superiority and divine right is actually the product of something far more humble and human. Their “destiny” wasn’t fire. It was songs. Stories and songs are the lifeblood of Westeros. People remember through stories. The histories, the legends—these aren’t forged in blood, they’re passed down through mummer’s plays, puppet shows, songs sung at taverns. What are we told over and over in ASOIAF? That songs are how history survives.

Aenys was born of love and song. And that matters because look at how their dynasty ends. Egg grew up loving stories of knights and heroes. He wanted to be one of those heroes from the tales. He wasn’t drawn to power or conquest, he was drawn to the stories of honor, of justice, of doing what’s right. He thought that the return of dragons would be the salvation of the realm, that it would fix everything, and what did it lead to? Summerhall. A tragedy.

Look at Rhaegar. He wasn’t some warmongering conqueror—Rhaegar loved his harp, not his sword. He could make people weep just by playing a few notes, by singing a song. His magic was in music, in creating something beautiful in a world constantly obsessed with destruction. But what did Rhaegar do? He gave it all up to chase a prophecy. He abandoned his harp and took up the sword, convinced that the answers lay in some ancient, cryptic vision of three-headed dragons. He died in the mud of the Trident, not as a poet or singer, but as a fool chasing a doomed prophecy.

They thought their destiny was fire, but it’s always been about the songs—the things that outlive the fire. That’s what Aenys represented, what Rhaegar embodied, what Egg loved as a child.

But the Targaryens were too busy chasing dragons to hear the music.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #infertile aegon + bastard aenys my beloveds.#aenys i targaryen #aegon the conqueror #rhaenys targaryen #a song of ice and fire #rhaegar targaryen #aegon v targaryen #visenya targaryen #ales.txt #my words #teeheeee

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ramayantika · 2 months ago

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What right does a man have to dictate what rights another one of his own should have and shouldn't have?

And when we talk about mankind, the history of mankind, I hate to mention how I find the existence of women evade from these discussions and philosophy.

Even now in this glorious age of scientific development, I still see my women demand for something as basic as respect and independence to their lives.

And the goddesses laugh. That laughter is hysterical, it will shake all of you in your bones, will rattle your spines, and claim your soul. They laugh when they hear sleazy men talk about how any woman is theirs to violate for an immodest slip in her dress; how any woman is theirs to spit on for any skin that is left to bask under sun's warm glaze.

The goddesses's little daughters and little scholars clutch their little tridents, golden pots and books. The goddesses would descend earth and each of these men would seek to violate her brutally as the fantasies they hide deep dark in their hearts.

Such high talks about a golden past and glorious history of brave kingdoms and martyrdom fail when the descendants of these immortal tales of history's so called champions talk about how they cannot stop their wandering hands from grabbing her breasts, because she is out in the open, her body his to do as please, as long she doesn't belong from his home.

And then women in the end aren't goddesses. Men make fun of this fact. "You all aren't even the equivalent of the goddess's feet's dust and you seek to call yourself a goddess?"

It's true. Women cannot be goddesses. A single inappropriate glance at Kali's body would have her beheading the vile man's head, his skull amongst the many skulls decorating her garland atop her naked breasts.

Durga's golden face would sport blood of the men who seek to claim her, to possess her just because they want to trample a radiant woman who bows to none.

Alas! I stayed quiet that day. So did you. So did we. We did not become the goddesses our goddesses told us to be, and those men knew it, so they bound our hands by grass like an elephant tied to a tattered rope.

And Kali screams, Saraswati sings, Durga roars, Lakshmi walks away.

The witches were women. They keep on burning

#samridhi speaks #samridhi writes #in response to a comment: khud chote kapde pehni aur ladke hawasi kehti hai #in response to a comment: we have given too much freedom to women. we should take it back #goddesses rishikas and women #a little excerpt maybe?

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atopvisenyashill · 11 months ago

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Harwin being sent by his liege lord on what was always meant to be a quick if difficult task, just stop the Mountain from reaving on the King's justice, that turns into this nightmare of a life where he spends years away from home, away from civilization, away from safety and stability and sanity, to watch everyone die around him, to watch magic he barely understands bring the man he's sworn to serve back to life again and again, because there's nothing else to do but keep fighting and hope you're making a difference and not fucking everything up and making it worse-

and then Arya shows up and she's just as precocious and wild and underfoot as she's always been, and she's alive and mostly safe and traumatized sure but she's in one piece, she's fared not that badly compared to some of the little girls he's seen, and I imagine it felt like a small miracle to have her there, just for a moment, proof that he can do what he was tasked with and keep people safe BUT

then Arya escapes and barely any time later, he's coming across Catelyn's naked, water logged body on the Trident and there's a direwolf guarding the body so it's not nibbled on that leaves the moment it hears them coming, and he's begging Thoros to bring her back, bring his liege's lady back, bring Arya's poor mother back, but all he can do is cry and watch as Beric kneels besides her, kisses her awake like something out of a fairy tale, then falls to the side, dead at last, as something much worse that wears Catelyn's face rises in his place. What can Harwin do?

He continues to serve.

#I HATE #valyrianscrolls #harwin of the hollow hill #rani liveblogs asoiaf #the brotherhood without banners

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seirei-bh · 6 months ago

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Summary and opinions of Jason's route ep 5! SPOILERS

Well, well, well, if you're the Jason route, congratulations, my friend! We're celebrating here with cocktails and ugly sobs because we FINALLY get a moment with Jason that last more than two minutes! + a moment alone with him! applauses!

In general it was a good ep, I liked it! I still need to play it with other routes to get a complete opinion, but I enjoyed it.

And now, before continuing, this post contains BIG SPOILERS!!! about this ep in this route, so if you prefer to enjoy the content of the ep by yourself I REALLY recommend that you wait until the day of the general release and play it before read this.

Btw keep in mind that I'm going to make this post with humorous notes on purpose, so pls take it in good vibes!

As soon as I started the ep I got angry because Thomas was two hours late to work without any consequences -Devon was 100% ok with that, like???- while my Sucrette was awake since 7AM as a clown, and then she had to hear how Roy and Amanda argued over a cool project and about how Thomas got the coolest one and then they let my Sucrette take care of the shittiest project of all, thanks Devenementiel! I felt loved and considered! I'll be happy to betray all of you soon! :D Except you, Elenda, you're a sweetheart and wonderful, pls be my wife. I love you, honey.

My sucrette Lily proceeded to take on the project herself without ask help and without making any calls to the client (because she's stupid and because I wanted she suffered alone so Jason could manipulate her later, I'm evil yeees), and ofc she ended up screwing up. Then Elenda tried to cheer us up and then my sucrette went for a walk alone to catch a depression for having disappointed Devon, her coworkers and even her goose. Dishonor on your goose, girl!

Then we found Jason in the park!! Basically our girl was seeing her life passing away in front of her eyes and then our lovely knight came to make fun of her, like a perfect Fool knight in a fairy tale. I swear this man has to have a location chip on us that also detects our emotions, otherwise Idk how we match up with him in every episode XDDD I guess his cell phone alerts him and he will go into "OMG my future wife need my bad jokes! I must go with her so she notices me!" and he runs out of his office.

In short, he offer us his help while he tries to hide his horns, his trident and the infernal flames from the ground , we end up telling him our problem because Sucrette is an idiot, and we make a deal with the devil, but not before Jason telling us to ask him nicely like "pleasee help me", and my Sucrette goes into: desire to kill increasing mode. Jason calls Danica to get info about the project, and while we wait for her response, Jason smirks and thanks us for liking his Instagram photo, while Sucrette tries not to k*ll him. When he gets the info very proud, she also mocks him and comments that "If you track everyone like this, it's no wonder you already have gray hair." and Jason responds that it's not from stress or age, it's poliosis, and that it's hereditary, and his father had them too. And there I wanted my Sucrette to shut up, lol, I'm embarrassed, girl.

Then comes my favorite moment: Jason takes us to Goldreamz!! Here we get a tense scene in which he touches Sucrette's back, they look at each other intensely, she has contradictory feelings because she thinks she's betraying her Devenementiel's coworkers, she doubs about his intentions, and then… *laughs* I love sm this:

Jason is sooo proud of his office and his company that asks Sucrette her opinion about it, Sucrette comments that she has no opinion on it, like meh~ I'm not impressed, man, this is Ikea, and Jason responds like a total offended diva XD Then he counterattacks by making fun of Devenementiel's decoration and both tease each other like always. I love my two fools.

His expression was priceless. And she doesn't give a f***, lmao, tell him, girl. This pathetic man wanted to impress sm his queen and he failed. Someone should call the ambulance, the rival boss is having a shock *laughs*

Next, they both discuss the processes they will follow for the project, Sucrette contributing ideas and Jason getting her very good and surprising contacts. Then there's another of my favorite moments, Jason shows briefly vulnerable when Sucrette asks him a couple of personal questions about his childhood. Jason reveals to us that his parents were not millionaires, that his birthday parties were quite modest, and that his father died when he was a teenager, and then he ends the conversation. And I wanted to hug him.

Here I want to give my opinion. This is the first time that we get info about his family and I'm surprised! Because I thought Jason came from a rich family, like Amanda, and the plot twist about his father leaves me intrigued. The only thing I can theorize now at least is that Jason became an ambitious person perhaps due to this, and I wonder what exactly happened to his father, whether he died from an accident or illness.

Finally, Sucrette thanks him and Jason tells her that she shouldn't forget that now she has an outstanding debt with him that she'll have to pay at some point, dramatic pause----! He doesn't tell us what he wants, but I've a couple of ideas: either Jason will try to get something from Devenementiel by using us (despite Sucrette told him she would never betray Devenementiel) or he will try to get us to go on a date with him to a dinner or an event, without we won't be able to reject his invitation, to try to seduce us.

I already suspected that Sucrette on his route would end up visiting Goldreamz at some point, but I admit I didn't expect it to be so soon! It was a pleasant surprise. We didn't meet Danica and Spencer yet though.

After that, Sucrette presents to her colleagues at Devenementiel the project she has worked on with Jason, without meantion him ofc, Devon congratulates her, Elenda hugs her (my queen Elenda being the best girl always), and Sucrette feels horribly uncomfortable because she thinks she is betraying all of her coworkers by hiding the truth about Jason's help. Hahaha, I'm really would like Devon and the others finds out that Jason helped us, I want to see their reaction *evil masochistic laugh*

At the end I had the date with Roy at the pool, since I will do the ones with Amanda and Thomas in a few days. I loved it! Roy's illu is so beautiful, so colorful and bright! <3 Although Beemoov are cowards for not giving us mermanRoy, he'd have look so hot! U__U Regarding Jason's illus with him in the company, I also really liked the intimacy and tension of the scene, and the detail that their faces are in shadow, as to emphasize the forbidden nature of that secret meeting and that you're making a deal with the devil.

About the PAs, I spent around 1.700, but I forgot to use jokers this time, so I guess for other people could be cheaper.

You can also get a sea background for your room and furniture of that theme in your closet at the end of the ep. They are available to buy whatever you want. I used the background for my bedroom and I love how it looks!

#mcl new gen #mcl new gen spoilers #jason mendal #my candy love #my candy love new gen spoilers

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bigidiotenergytm · 1 month ago

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The divine palace far exceeded in its splendor what Odysseus' feeble mind could even concieve.

Its hallway appeared to be endless, with its impossibly tall ceiling, taller than any building the former king of Ithaca had ever seen.

The inside of the palace was painted in various shades of blue, with white accents which gave it a clean, yet cold look.

Seashells, gems and pearls of varying sizes adorned the imposing walls, adding a touch of colour to the otherwise fully white and blue residence.

Carefully crafted reliefs depicting famous tales of heros, monsters and gods were also present, reminding Odysseus of the temples he often visited while he was still in the company of his beloved Penelope.

Poseidon glanced at the man who trailed behind him. The captain was completely awestruck; walking with his mouth agape and his eyes curiously darting from one corner to the next, eager to take in as much of this glorious sight as he could.

The god smiled unwittingly at the human's reaction. He had been so overcome by wonder that he had failed to notice he no longer required the aid of the bubble.

Truth be told, Poseidon had granted the man the ability to breathe underwater shortly before summoning a portal to his palace. However, it seemed like it would take said man additional time to notice the power he had been blessed with.

The god observed the human as he examined one of the large reliefs, clearly interested in the scene it depicted.

"I see you're impressed with my palace."

He started, causing Odysseus to swiftly turn his attention towards him. The former captain's expression then changed in an attempt to hide the fact that the god was right.

Poseidon let out a chuckle at the man's reaction before continuing.

"There is no need for lies, my dear king. After all, it's only natural. No human has ever set foot here. You should be honoured for the opportunity you were given."

Upon finishing his speech, he turned his eyes towards the small human, or rather the clothes he was wearing.

His chiton was torn and stained, reduced to no more than a rag after over a decade of constant fighting for survival.

Scrunching his nose in disgust, the earth-shaker lifted his trident as he spoke up again.

"I'm afraid those clothes, if one can even call them that, are highly unbecoming. I cannot permit a servant of mine to be dressed in such a vile manner."

As he spoke, his trident began glowing, preparing to obey its master.

Odysseus looked down at his poor excuse of a chiton, seeing it glow in the same way the god's trident was.

After a few short seconds, the glow disappeared. The mortal looked down, only to be met with a humiliating sight: his clothes had vanished, leaving him dressed in what his captor had provided him with instead.

And sadly, it seemed like generosity wasn't one of the virtues Poseidon possessed. His chiton was now replaced with a rather short, light blue skirt. Small pearls were sewn into the fabric, giving it a simple yet regal appearance.

Although the material was light and pleasant against his skin, it barely reached the middle of his thighs, being just long enough to not be completely indecent.

His chest was left bare, exposed for what felt like the first time in years. The rest of his body, however, was adorned with the finest jewelry.

In his hair there sat a golden clip in the shape of a starfish, successfully keeping the locks of unkempt brown hair from falling into his eyes.

A long necklace made of small, white seashells drapped down his chest, almost reaching his abdomen.

Odysseus looked at himself in disbelief. Once he had fully processed what had happened, he turned to the god of the seas, his eyes glistening in fury. He demanded an explanation.

Poseidon let out a small laugh at the mortal's reaction. Still, he opened his mouth to respond.

"As I previously said, those rags of yours were unsightly. Can't you even appreciate the beauty of the robes I've gifted you?"

He feigned sadness, as if the lack of gratitude truly wound him.

"But why? Why this? Why-"

"Because I willed it so."

The man's question was cut off by the god's abrupt answer. Poseidon's tone was stern; a clear warning and signal for the human to cease speaking.

Then, a sly, playful grin appeared on the god's lips.

"But, if you must know, I will tell you. One of your duties as my servant is to look presentable.

As for why your robes are the way they are, well, you have none other than your parents to blame. Because, my noble captain, you have truly splendid thighs.

Now, follow me!"

As he said that, he turned on his heel and continued walking down the seemingly endless hallway, forcing the mortal to follow behind him.

Perhaps the palace would prove awe-inspiring if it wasn't his PRISON.

Odysseus knew architecture. Knew it well, having built his own palace with his bare hands. He knew the intricacies, even down to the smallest gems were placed with reason. Even if this was Poseidon's domain— it was still that of a God's. One mighty. Powerful. Strong. The curves in the marble. The slightest blue hue. Even the statues of those past were carved with a delicacy that the sculptors of Gaia would ENVY. Everything hand-picked by the God of the Sea to represent him as a deity. The stories the walls told. The things they could share, if they were to ever speak. They told him what words could not. A palace was a King's pride. Their everything.

And all the mortal can focus on is how IMPOSING it all is.

Eyes do not dart out of curiosity. They analyze. What may seem as if a mortal is simply gawking is not what the Cunning is truly doing. Vantage points. Hidden spots. No, Odysseus can never escape. Escape would only be met with the bottom of the Aegean Sea. And, as BLASPHEMOUS as Odysseus has been— he knew this was still a bargain. A deal that the former king had presented HIMSELF. Does he not ahold to it; there was no stopping Poseidon from drowning Ithaca. From killing those he's sacrificed everything for.

A sacrifice leaves him Poseidon's. Only Poseidon's.

Curiosity can't be afforded anymore. Curiosity is that for who are still filled with HOPE.

Odysseus TENSES when the Sea God addresses him again. It means nothing good. The mortal has to stop his eyes from scanning. From giving ANY inkling he's trying to form some kind of plan. It works, he can only assume, from how Poseidon doesn't persecute it any further. This was only the beginnings of such a large palace. There'd be a time and a place to get used to these halls. To get the odds shifted.

Poseidon's eyes land on him and he FREEZES. That was just it. Any mortal's weakness. The unknown. The mortal offered his servitude, but he cannot imagine what it'll entail. How ruthless the God would be. The face Odysseus is given doesn't bring comfort. It makes him feel exactly as it proposes: DIRTY. That trident rises against him again, and he can feel his heart rate rise as it does. The God speaks. The God wields that weapon of his in his face. And Odysseus can only stand there as it glows.

Eyes screw shut. Expecting the worst despite the words.

Odysseus can feel it. The change.

Cold hitting skin where it did not before. Jewelry weighing his neck down. Stealing what warmth his skin has. For agonizing seconds, Odysseus can't bring himself to look. He knows. He knows what Poseidon's put him in to strip him of himself even further. Eyes are forced open. Forced to take in the 'gift' his God's given him because he knows if he does not, it'll only be worse. But it doesn't make it any less HUMILIATING. Hands can only go to the bottom of this skirt to fidget. He doesn't dare bring it lower to try and preserve modesty. Anything could be read as a sign of disrespect. Feeling its soft fabric, it reminded him of home. Of the sheets on his bed still waiting for him. Fingers feel the pearls embedded into the fabric. Different from the shells and pearls adorning his torso. The necklace given was long. Multiple rows leading to his pelvis, as three rows wrap around both sides to cling to his back. It felt suffocating. As if Poseidon himself was wrapped around him. Around his neck. Even the gloves and gladiator sandals weren't untouched. Turned a dark blue, waves now carved in them. Heaving them far more than chains ever could.

It doesn't stop him from asking why.

Only to be QUIETED. The mortal knew far too well of the Will of the Gods. How it's forever to be set; interwoven with Fate and Destiny. The same ruthlessness that provides his mercy. Jaw sets. The grip on the hem only grows tighter. Acting like a true servant, silenced and obeying. That smile only makes Odysseus grow colder. The Earth-Shaker continuously reverberating his core. Digging deeper, and deeper. Letting him sink more and more. Colder. And colder.

Until Poseidon says something that brings about more questions than it does answers.

... his... thighs? Odysseus can only blink in confusion. For once, a warmth greets him. Going immediately to his cheeks. This was the second time the Sea God has made him blush. And he can only curse himself for it. It seemed sick. It seemed objectifying. But what was a servant, if not an OBJECT? He all but willingly- all but eagerly— bestowed himself to be Poseidon's object. One who let live. One to let bleed. One to let weep.

The former king would then lower his skirt slightly after Poseidon turns around. His arms go to wrap around his waist, hugging himself- comforting himself, as he is all but forced to silently follow the God further into his abode.

#anon #anonymous #posiren anon #posiren au #odyseidon #ODYSSEUS. / answered.#ODYSSEUS. / fc.

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jozor-johai · 3 months ago

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I noticed a little subplot happening in the background of ADWD, and I’m wondering if anyone has any theories on where this is going. I have my own theory, which I'll explain in full at the end, but is essentially this: I think that GRRM is placing these Dothraki khalasars strategically along the Rhoyne and telling us about them in ADWD so that if Dany commands the loyalty of the entire Dothraki in TWOW, she'll already have loyal armies in place right by the Free Cities, rather than having to wait transport troops anywhere—even though the Dothraki aren't a threat now, the Dothraki will be in place to attack the Free Cities while the Free Cities have sent all their armies to fight Dany's forces at Meereen.

I'll explain my reasoning, and where I think GRRM is putting the pieces into place here—under the cut, since it's a slightly long post with maps.

We first hear of Dothraki along the Rhoyne in ADWD Tyrion III:

“Griff means to strike downriver the instant we are back. News has been coming upriver, none of it good. Dothraki have been seen north of Dagger Lake, outriders from old Motho’s khalasar, and Khal Zekko is not far behind him, moving through the Forest of Qohor.” The fat man made a rude noise. “Zekko visits Qohor every three or four years. The Qohorik give him a sack of gold and he turns east again. As for Motho, his men are near as old as he is, and there are fewer every year. The threat is—” “—Khal Pono,” Haldon finished. “Motho and Zekko flee from him, if the tales are true. The last reports had Pono near the headwaters of the Selhoru with a khalasar of thirty thousand. Griff does not want to risk being caught up in the crossing if Pono should decide to risk the Rhoyne.”

As a reminder, Dagger Lake is where the Rhoyne in the east meets the Qhoyne in the west to make the full-force Rhoyne that we know and love.

Illyrio dismisses any reason to be concerned with these particular Dothraki, and perhaps he is right. But we do get our first preview into the concerns of Khal Pono, and the premise of Dothraki along the Rhoyne. Are they doing to be placated by gifts, like Illyrio says? Or is something different afoot?

Next we get an update in Tyrion VI, by Selhorys.

Haldon Halfmaester explained. “On the way down from the Sorrows to Selhorys, we thrice glimpsed riders moving south along the river’s eastern shore. Dothraki. Once they were so close we could hear the bells tinkling in their braids, and sometimes at night their fires could be seen beyond the eastern hills. We passed warships as well, Volantene river galleys crammed with slave soldiers. The triarchs fear an attack upon Selhorys, plainly.”

Another reminder for geography, Selhorys is significantly south from Dagger Lake. Like, further than King’s Landing is from the Trident. Once again, we have this concern: will Khal Pono cross the Rhoyne for Selhorys?

That concern is brought up again in Tyrion VI:

“Three,” Qavo allowed, “against thrice three thousand enemies. Grazdan mo Eraz was not the only envoy sent out from the Yellow City. When the Wise Masters move against Meereen, the legions of New Ghis will fight beside them. Tolosi. Elyrians. Even the Dothraki.” “You have Dothraki outside your own gates,” Haldon said. “Khal Pono.” Qavo waved a pale hand in dismissal. “The horselords come, we give them gifts, the horselords go.” He moved his catapult again, closed his hand around Tyrion’s alabaster dragon, removed it from the board.

As predicted by Haldon in Tyrion III, here is Khal Pono across from Selhorys. We hear that Qavo is unconcerned with Khal Pono, despite Haldon’s concerns.

This might be a bit of a meta opinion, but whenever someone is as flippant as Qavo is being here, expect them to be wrong. They definitely aren’t going to go away with gifts, Qavo is totally jinxing it—that’s my prediction.

Then we get another update later on, in The Lost Lord:

Haldon’s horses did not please him. “Were these the best that you could find?” he complained to the Halfmaester. “They were,” said Haldon, in an irritated tone, “and you had best not ask what they cost us. With Dothraki across the river, half the populace of Volon Therys has decided they would sooner be elsewhere, so horseflesh grows more expensive every day.”

By this point, they’re in Volon Therys, which is only barely outside of Volantis—think roughly the distance between King’s Landing and Duskendale, for comparison. And here, too, there are Dothraki on the other side of the river. Are these the same Dothraki, are they traveling south at the same pace as Tyrion/JonCon? Or is this yet another khalasar? We haven’t heard any update from Qohor, and this is the first time that we’ve unexpectedly encountered a khalasar—are they here to meet with the Volantenes about Meereen, like Dany’s advisors fear? Or are they here for another reason? Is it possible that Illyrio and Qavo are wrong?

The last update we get is in ADWD Victarion, when he captures a ship from Myr heading for New Ghis and Yunkai:

Sailing out of Myr, the Dove brought them no fresh news of Meereen or Daenerys, only stale reports of Dothraki horsemen along the Rhoyne, the Golden Company upon the march, and others things Victarion already knew.

Unfortunately, this is stale news for both Victarion and we the readers—this is like a snapshot back to Tyrion II/III, when the Golden Company broke its contract and started marching east, and when we first heard about the Dothraki on the Rhoyne in my first quote.

However, despite this being a snapshot back in time to old news, I wonder about GRRM’s choice to include this again so close to end of the book—is this a reminder for the readers about these Dothraki on the Rhoyne? We’ve learned why the Golden Company marching ended up being important, could this passage from Victarion be a reminder of these tidbits of news because they will continue to matter moving forward?

I am doubly interested because it’s in this same book, in the very midst of all this talk of Dothraki on the Rhoyne, that we hear the tale of a previous time the Dothraki came. This is back in ADWD Tyrion IV, between the reports of Motho and Zekko on Dagger Lake and before the talk with Qavo about Pono. I’ve bolded the relevant sections, because it’s long, but left the rest for context.

“The war left the Disputed Lands a waste, and freed Lys and Myr from the yoke. The tigers suffered other defeats as well. The fleet they sent to reclaim Valyria vanished in the Smoking Sea. Qohor and Norvos broke their power on the Rhoyne when the fire galleys fought on Dagger Lake. Out of the east came the Dothraki, driving smallfolk from their hovels and nobles from their estates, until only grass and ruins remained from the forest of Qohor to the headwaters of the Selhoru. After a century of war, Volantis found herself broken, bankrupt, and depopulated. It was then that the elephants rose up. They have held sway ever since. Some years the tigers elect a triarch, and some years they do not, but never more than one, so the elephants have ruled the city for three hundred years.”

Maybe this wasn’t just to set the stage for the Volantene elections, but to remind us that the Dothraki can come out of the east to wreak havoc…. when the Free Cities are weak. And boy, is Volantis looking undefended right now: the Golden Company is gone to Westeros, other sellsword companies have gone to Meereen, the Volantenes have sent their fleets to Meereen.

Before I continue, here’s a map of the locations of the Dothraki khalasars along the Rhoyne:

Why we should care

We can be almost certain that Dany has to return to Vaes Dothrak to visit the Dosh Khaleen. Though we don’t know for sure if Khal Jhaqo’s forces are going to outpower Dany and Drogon, Dany is already envisioning the future where she returns to Vaes Dothrak when she sees Jhaqo’s outrider at the end of ADWD:

One rider, and alone. A scout. He was one who rode before the khalasar to find the game and the good green grass, and sniff out foes wherever they might hide. If he found her there, he would kill her, rape her, or enslave her. At best, he would send her back to the crones of the dosh khaleen, where good khaleesi were supposed to go when their khals had died.

Of course, we ought to already have known this from Dany’s vision in the House of the Undying:

Beneath the Mother of Mountains, a line of naked crones crept from a great lake and knelt shivering before her, their grey heads bowed.

If Dany was truly seeing her future—and I believe she was—then we know we will inevitably be seeing her return to Vaes Dothrak to accept the homage of the Dosh Khaleen.

However, this creates a bigger problem: we need Dany to get to Westeros, and potentially have time to also reach both Volantis and Pentos (though whether or not Dany will actually go either of those places is purely speculation, however well-founded). Vaes Dothrak is in the entirely opposite direction from where she is now—that would be heading east, away from Westeros, not closer to her end goal.

For some readers, this isn’t a concern: we might trust Quaithe, who reminds Dany that:

To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.

Some readers, though, wonder about the time and ability for TWOW to contain this storyline within its time. GRRM is realistic about how long travel time takes, which is great for the realism, but presents immense logistic problems.

Dany doesn’t need to worry about the time it takes to travel long distances as mucha as she used to—if she can begin to control Drogon, she can fly around at will. However, that’s only her; if Dany does gain the allegiance of the Dothraki at Vaes Dothrak, how can she actually leverage that in a meaningful way when they’re constrained to horseback? While the AGOT timeline is largely unclear, we can use Dany’s pregnancy to at least be sure it takes months to get from one side of the Dothraki Sea (in Dany III) to Vaes Dothrak (in Dany IV). Does Dany have months to mobilize Dothraki from one side of the Sea to the other?

With the Dothraki along the Rhoyne, though, she doesn’t need to wait for anyone to ride across the sea. Conveniently, they’re already there. If there’s some way to send a message that the Dosh Khaleen have decreed that the Dothraki will follow Dany, that she is the Stallion Who Mounts the World, then she has a ready-made army just waiting for her word to cross the Rhoyne after all, and take the Free Cities. Then Dany can fly over there on her own and just meet them.

I know we’re all looking forward to Dany taking Volantis, so I don’t want to propose something too contrary, but how about this: sicne we’ve been hearing all through ADWD that there are a ton of Dothraki already in place, conveniently for story purposes, ready to accept their regular gifts… or perhaps ready to act if, for example, word came that the Stallion Who Mounts The World has come after all. That might speed things up a bit. We know Volantis is only weakly defended, we know there are Dothraki outside of Selhorys, Qohor, and Volon Therys. Dany has spent five books searching for home and finding one among the people she’s freed. Maybe this is how she makes sure it’s the Volantene slavers who don’t have a home to go back to this time.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #jozor thoughts #valyrianscrolls #twow speculation #dothraki #daenerys targaryen #dany

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comicavalcade · 2 years ago

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Submariner Summer 7

OK all, time for part 7 of the #SubmarinerSummer read through: Tales to Astonish #76, Uneasy Hangs The Head..! This cover is, frankly iconic. They even used it as the cover for the first Epic Collection. BTW, what do you all think of him in a cape?

Meanwhile on the title page, Namor stands boldly over a desperate Krang. It does not go well for Krang.

Krang having been dealt with, Namor turns his attention to Dorma, who still needs to be healed by the revitalizer before she dies. Vashti aids him as Namor monologues his way through the moment of truth

Dorma lives! Now the quest is truly ended! Now the prize is truly won!

With the trials all ended, its time to enjoy the fruits of their labor. Coronation time! And I have to say, a crown looks good on Lady Dorma

Namor sits the throne, crowned, holding Neptune's trident, with a royal red cape. Gotta be honest, never loved this Atlantean crown, but feel free to tell me if you disagree. Namor calls Dorma to his side, but not just her. Good ol' Vashti gets his due as well!

Then we see Krang in his cell, unrepentant and still plotting, even as Namor banishes him from Atlantis.

This pretty much wraps up the Quest for Neptune's Trident.

Of course, there is no happily ever after, for Namor or Atlantis, and the very next day (! geez, couldn't even give them a weekend??) catastrophe strikes. But not just any catastrophe...as usual, the surfacers are causing destruction to the environment and Namor must deal with it

This issue is essentially a quick wrap-up and epilogue, then tees up the next story arc, so its a bit neither here nor there. But its always fun seeing our heroes get their rewards, and we're left with something of a cliffhanger again as we wonder what waits on the surface.

So, next up on Submariner Summer, its Tales to Astonish #77: To Walk Amongst MEN!

#submariner summer #namor #namor the sub mariner #namor the first #namor of atlantis #lady dorma #dorma #warlord krang #krang #vashti #quest for neptunes trident #heavy hangs the head #tales to astonish #marvel comics #marvel

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 1 year ago

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Hello sorry if I'm bothering you but I just had an amazing idea, I thought, what if Poseidon had a daughter and she got separated from him.

-Poseidon was regarded as one of the best rulers in Valhalla, he may be harsh and can be cruel when he needs to be, but he keeps his people safe, and all look up to him as an example of a fine leader.

-And while he was a great king, he was an even better father, to you, his precious little child, the only person he would willingly smile at, dote on, and praise. In his eyes you could do no wrong.

-You knew that your papa was a busy person, as running a kingdom took a lot of work, but he was always there to tuck you in at night and tell you stories, usually tales from his youth or tales about one of his brothers.

-Poseidon was protective of you, not wanting anything to happen to you, so you couldn’t leave the palace walls without him with you; you could go into the gardens with your escort guards and nanny, but outside the palace, you would only go with him.

-Zeus learned that lesson the hard way when he took you to take his ‘most adorable little niece’ on a fun day out. Poseidon hunted him down and attacked him while you were sitting nearby, eating an ice cream cone Zeus had gotten for you.

-The reason for this was Poseidon didn’t trust anyone with your safety except for himself; on palace grounds it was fine because there were guards everywhere and Poseidon knew anyone who came in or left the palace walls, so he would know if there was a threat.

-And anyone foolish enough to try anything against you would quickly be dealt with, harshly and with no mercy. You were your papa’s precious little princess after all.

-And that’s why he was ready to raze his kingdom after you came up missing shortly after breakfast- nobody had any clue that you were gone, and he was furious, ready to execute every single guard in his kingdom and whoever he found you with was going to be immediately killed.

-Every inch of the palace had been searched, from top to bottom, Poseidon searching alongside the servants and the guards, growing more and more frantic every second you hadn’t been found.

-The situation turned more dire when your nanny was found bound and gagged, thrown into a closet, as everyone realized this wasn’t like when Zeus took you, this was a kidnapping attempt.

-Poseidon prepared to contact his brothers to ask for their aid as he prepared his trident when a guard shouted, “Princess Y/N!!”

-Poseidon turned, his eyes wide in fear as he saw you up on Kojiro’s shoulders, smiling brightly as you waved, “Papa!” Kojiro smiled as well, until he saw the dark aura surrounding Poseidon as he charged, going to take Kojiro’s head.

-Poseidon only froze when you hugged Kojiro’s head, protecting him, “NO! Mr. Kojiro saved me!” everything froze as this news spread across the guards who had come quickly to their king’s and princess’ aid.

-Poseidon’s eyes pierced into Kojiro who smiled warmly, not at all bothered that he was in a dangerous situation, “Papa- that new guard was bad, he hit nanny and took me away! Kojiro stopped the bad man and brought me back here!”

-Poseidon froze, knowing the guard you were speaking of, he came highly recommended, but to hear that he kidnapped you made Poseidon furious, “He’s dead?”

-Kojiro nodded as he carefully lifted you off his shoulders, setting you down, “Yes, when I saw the child, not knowing who Y/N was at first, I told him to release her, when he refused and tried to attack me, I responded accordingly. She looks just like you, so I knew exactly where to bring her!” he ended his statement with a hearty and warm laugh.

-You had turned, smiling up at him before Poseidon deflated, relaxing that you were safe and you turned as he kneeled, rushing into his arms. He hugged you close and while he didn’t verbally say it, Kojiro saw the thanks in his eyes, which he gratefully accepted.

-When Kojiro went to leave you struggled, getting out of your father’s arms, much to his surprise, “Wait!” Kojiro turned as you hugged him around his knees before you beamed brightly up at him, your eyes sparkling, “Will you teach me how to use a sword? The way you used yours was so cool!!”

-Poseidon turned white in shock, hearing that you wanted Kojiro to teach you how to use a weapon, you- his little baby- using a sword.

-Poseidon was quick to flatline, not ready for that step in your growth as Kojiro just laughed warmly, “I will, but you should probably ask your papa first.”

-You turned, knowing papa would say yes if you asked, before you both paused, seeing Poseidon laying on the ground, surrounded by gloom and anguish. Perhaps it would be better to ask later.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror kojiro sasaki

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boymanmaletheshequel · 3 months ago

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Symbolism of Poseidon

🌊🔱🌊🔱🌊🔱🌊🔱🌊🔱🌊🔱🌊🔱🌊

One of the most severely under-respected gods in my opinion, Poseidon is the fearsome, ruthless, yet incredibly fatherly god of the oceans and the Maritime. He controls the oceans, brings bounties of fish to the anglers, and can protect or claim sailors of the seas. He is a father to many the young gods and goddesses, a particular ally of young virgin Artemis and her brother Apollo, protecting them from the wrath of Zeus through several tales of the Greek Mythos, as well as the father figure of beautiful Aphrodite, who came form his sea foam. Many things can be associated with him, so let’s take a look at some of the symbols of king Poseidon, shall we?

• 🐚 seashells and ocean curios: as the god of the seas, it’s no wonder that shells, scales, pearls, coral, and other ocean curiosities are timeless symbols of the king Poseidon. Many an altar dedicated to his might is peppered with spiraling and intricate shells, coral branches, and other ocean treasures!

• 🌊 Waves and seafoam: the story of Aphrodite is inherently, if not directly, connected to that of Poseidon’s. It was from his domain she was born of sea-foam, and their relationship would ultimately end in an affair later on in her story. Sea-foam is now widely associated with both her and king Poseidon, and waves are also connected to the two, often felt lapping at our feet as a symbol of love, in different forms from the two gods linked to it.

• 🐬 animals: it should come as no surprise that the vast number of creatures that paint the seas are all the epithets of Poseidon, from dolphins, to crabs, to octopus, the animals of the ocean blue are all symbolic of his domain and power. Some of the more well known are the dolphin, whom Poseidon used as messengers to deliver his word, and whom often followed him. Another is the seahorse, it is said the king created the odd little creature by combining the body of a horse with that of a fish, and that his chariot was led by four mighty seahorses!

• 🦪 foods: several foods can be attributed to Poseidon, after-all, the ocean, one of the biggest sources of food globally, is apart of his domain. Oysters, sushi, lobster, are all emblemic of the plethoric abundance his domain offers hungry humans willing to brave its tides!

• 💎 gemstones: a common theme with king Poseidon is that his domain truly does reflect him, and his symbolism is inherently connected to him. A few great examples of this are Larimar, a bright blue gemstone that resembles the sea and is named after dolphins, an important epiphet of the god. or aquamarine, a stone that in Ancient Greece was believed to be a talisman sent by Poseidon to shield sailors from the wrath of the sea! Pearls are also a safe bet, nothing is more representative of the wealth and prestige of the ocean than a pearl!

• 🔱 Other symbols: Poseidon’s symbols are widespread in many forms through green mythology, tridents are his infamous weapon of choice, a powerful tool wielded by the king of the ocean, as is lightning, a powerful energy he shares with Zeus.

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Did you learn something new about king Poseidon? Let me know, and tell me how you worship him!

#male witch #green witch #hellenism #paganism #witchcraft #druidism #hellenic worship #baby witch #sea witch #poseidon devotion #poseidon deity #poseidon worship #poseidon #king poseidon #poseidon devotee

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littlefireball · 5 months ago

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Can you make a Werewolf Yeosang too?

Yah of course 😎 sub yeosang is here btw 😗

ʏꜱ|ꜱᴇx ꜱʟᴀᴠᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴡᴀʀᴅ (ᴍ)

ʙᴇᴛᴀ ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ ꜱᴜʙ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴅᴏᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.5ᴋ

Masterlist

Had it not been for the poisoning incident, you would have never found yourself caught up in this questionable contest. Now, standing toe to toe with your rival, you pace anxiously, battling the discontent bubbling inside you and the "toxins" wreaking havoc on your system.

A wave of regret washes over you as you think back to your adventurous spirit that led you to sample such strange concoctions—a glass of wine laced with aphrodisiacs. With no known cure for these powerful agents, the only path back to normalcy lies in having sex with others.

A searing heat envelops your body, your heart pounds wildly in your chest, and every breath feels like a struggle. At first, you tried to withstand the agony, but the toll on your body becomes too much to bear, drastically affecting your everyday existence. In a fit of desperation, you find yourself wandering into the grim world of the slave market.

Whether it's the intoxicating haze clouding your mind or amplifying your cravings, the sight of the prized "championship trophy" stirs a fire within you that demands to be unleashed.

Yeosang—renowned as the finest sex slave in the shadowy underbelly of the black market. To be more specific, he is a werewolf slave. How unfortunate for him, as he was forsaken by his own kind. The tale is straightforward. The mate of the wolf pack's leader became infatuated with him, yet he refused to yield to her advances, leading to her slandering him. Naturally, he stood no chance against the alpha; after all, he is merely a beta.

Clad in a sleek black silk suit, he kneels within the confines of a cage, his hands and feet ensnared by heavy chains, reminiscent of a peacock deprived of its liberty. His striking beauty feels utterly misplaced in this grim reality, with his youthful visage starkly contrasting the violent chaos that surrounds him.

Yet, he remains indifferent to the impending clash, for he is merely a "trophy," and the value he offers will remain unchanged, no matter who emerges victorious.

"Oh damn, what's wrong with me…" Your gaze is irresistibly drawn to him. Yeosang bows his head, his eyes fixating on the handcuffs encircling his wrists, a look of sorrow washing over his face as he gently traces the angry red marks left by the bindings. You take in this poignant scene, but soon redirect your attention to the looming battle.

Ho, you must be crazy because of that fucking alcohol. Why do you feel pity when you kill people for a living? Why do you have to compete in person when you can obviously solve the problem with money?

Just fuck it.

You inhale deeply, centering your thoughts back on the game. Both of you stand poised, hearts racing, waiting for your foes to make the first move.

Your eyes lock in a fierce stare, each of you radiating intensity. In your mind, you strategize, plotting the perfect moment to strike and finish the duel with a single, decisive blow.

Yet, the crowd's restlessness grows, their thirst for blood palpable.

"Just fight already! Quit stalling! You two idiots!"

A voice cuts through the tension, a man shouting in frustration at the drawn-out standoff. The knights halt their fidgeting, turning their fierce gazes toward the impatient onlookers.

Seizing the moment while your adversary is momentarily distracted, you launch yourself forward, driving your sword with all your strength!

He attempts to defend himself with crossed arms, but your blow is too powerful, sending him crashing to the ground, his trident skittering away.

You stride over him, looking down at the defeated figure, and raise your gleaming blade.

In a heartbeat, his head tumbles away like a ball kicked across the field, blood erupting like a geyser, splattering your armor and weapon.

Thus, the clash concludes—an outcome devoid of tension or buildup. The audience stands in stunned silence, unable to comprehend how this "epic battle" could be resolved in mere moments.

Even Yeosang stands in shock, having never encountered such raw power in any battle he has witnessed before. A wave of terror washes over him. Panic surges in his chest, gripping his nerves and rendering him motionless. His eyes, wide with fear, lock onto yours, as if he might crumble at any moment.

You step closer to Yeosang, your face devoid of expression, unlock the cage, and reach out your hand to him. "You belong to me now," you deliberately lower your voice, ensuring that your words remain unheard by others. After a tense pause, he finally responds, trembling as he takes hold of your hand.

You draw him out of the cage, your hand resting firmly on the back of his neck, and once more you lower your voice, whispering, "You understand what you need to do, don't you?" "Yes, Sir."

You both step into the room, the door clicking shut behind you. He reaches for your armor, but you halt his hand. Confused, he tilts his head, yet you ignore his puzzled expression and pull him onto the bed.

"Listen, I'm poisoned. I just need your help to detox, and I promise I don't have any strange habits."

"But… how can I assist you?"

"You're amusing. Did you forget your role?" Leaning down, you gently lift his chin with one finger while your other hand rests on his thigh.

"What's your safe word? I don't want to cause you any harm." He blinks in surprise, having never been posed such a question, but quickly gathers himself and replies, "Gr… Green."

"Good," you say with a smile, removing your mask and letting your hair cascade down. It's then he realizes you are a woman.

Taken aback, he stares in disbelief, struggling to grasp the reality. In all the slave competitions he's been part of, it's predominantly men who compete, with only a handful of women.

"You are staring."

"You are stunning"

He can't hold back any longer, his words spilling out in a rush as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Your heart swells with affection at his charming confession, and you can't help but chuckle. You gently cradle his face in your hands, leaning in to press your lips against his.

This kiss is unlike any he has known; it's soft and tender, wrapping him in a blissful haze. There's no urgency, no nibbles—just the delicate dance of your lips, occasionally brushing against each other in sweet little pecks. You soon break the kiss, tracing your finger over his lips and softly ask, "Wanna feel good?" Confused, he nods his head.

"Words." you remind him. "Yes, sir… master." You stand up and remove your armor, leaving only your bra and underwear, then kneel in front of him.

Your hands caress his thighs as you kiss his sensuous lips again. With a hint of aggression, your tongue slides into his mouth while dancing with his and taking control. He can't help but moan shyly. The vibrations from each moan he releases gradually pushes you over the edge that makes you desire more.

"Oh fuck, your voice is so beautiful." You say between the kisses. The heat within your body burns like a flame, urging you to have sex with him. "Damn it…"

Your lips part once more as you settle onto his lap, rhythmically swaying your body back and forth, intentionally pressing against his member. The friction between your thighs sends shivers through you both, igniting a warmth that spreads rapidly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, drawing nearer, occasionally brushing against his growing arousal.

Even through the fabric, the friction sends waves of excitement coursing through Yeosang. He can feel himself growing harder as the tip of his cock brushes against your lower core. A rush of heat envelops him, concentrating on his manhood, while the pre-cum seeps out, dampening his underwear, leaving him with a chill from the wetness.

With a firm grip, you pin him down, and he submits willingly to the bed, your lips locked together, creating an embarrassingly wet sound with each kiss. Breaking away from his lips, you begin to suck and lick at his neck, expertly targeting his sensitive spots. Your playful teasing elicits deep, satisfied moans from him.

"I have never used the word beautiful to describe a man." You whisper in his ears before planting a kiss on his lips. "Oh… gosh…" Yeosang has never experienced such pleasure before. For him, sex is always about service rather than enjoyment.

"Sounds good" Smiling, your hand trails down to the hem of his panties, pulling down enough to free his cock. You hold his member, feeling his hardness beneath your palm. Moving up and down slowly, you make sure he feels every move of your fingers. "Goodness…" The itchy feeling sends shivers down his spine, especially your finger rubs against his tip while giving it a hard press.

He never thought he could be so eager to have sex with anyone. Even you can say, he hates it. But you are different. Each of your movements sends a thrill through him, his desire rising like a tide of ecstasy. He craves you deeply, yearning to feel your warmth wrap around him, guiding him to the ultimate climax.

"Hmmm… I wanna enter you. Please." His beg makes you let out a low chuckle. "You're more impatient than me. Are you the one who was poisoned?" You release his handcuffs and pull him towards the headboard, where he clasps his hands onto it. Taking off all his clothes, his semi-hardened cock is revealed with precum covered on it.

"So horny, aren't you?" "Yes, yes. Please let me have you, master." You are hesitant from his words, wondering if it is education in the black market. He is supposed to be strong, brave, but not beg from others. 'What they did for him.' You think, an inexplicable anger ignites in your heart.

You will kill for him after this encounter ends. You promise.

"Be patient, little wolf." You kneel down before sinking down your face between his thighs. "Let me have a taste first." Gripping his cock, you guide it to your mouth and lick it from the bottom to the top. "Oh god." He arches his back as the numbness and the pleasure crush within his body, a long-throaty moan leaving his lips as you continue to please him with your tongue.

"Open your legs wide or I will stop," you command. "Yes, master. I am sorry." His legs wide open again as you prop against his thigh as support, moving up and down quickly while teasing his ball. Your tongue circled the head of his shaft, sucking hard, leaving a reddish mark. He rolls his hip to thrust deeper; his cock twitches each time the tip reaches your throat, and you know he is about to reach his peak. But you pull out before he comes undone in your mouth.

"Why…master…I want to cum." He cries out, tears dripping down because of delightful. "Only a good boy can cum. Will you promise? Little wolf." "Yes! I will! I promise." His begging satisfies your ego and makes it grow. Maybe the beast called desire inside you is finally breaking out of its cage.

"Then help me." Removing your panties, you throw it away before aiming at his erection, sinking down slowly. You can feel every vein of his cock as your wall tightens around it, making you carve for more. "Master, it feels so good!" "Yah, fuck!" His sperm keeps flowing out, wetting your velvet wall.

"Tell me if you can't bear it." He remains in disbelief at the words that reached his ears. You actually care for him? Is that true? What could possibly motivate that? Even if he's merely a means for your own cleansing, there's no obligation for you to feel anything for him. Yet, before he can delve deeper into his thoughts, you begin to bounce, rhythmically rising and falling after adjusting his size and the sensation of being enveloped.

Your hands press firmly on his shoulders, your nails piercing his skin just a touch too deeply, drawing blood and inflicting a sting. But he feels excited instead of painful. Your breasts bounce up and down from your movements, making him lost in this alluring sight. God, he can just watch how you bounce on him for an hour.

"Ahhh…master…gosh!!" Each time you descend, his tip brushes against your tender skin, eliciting a symphony of moans from both of you. Your rhythm accelerates, and the power behind your thrusts grows stronger. It feels as though you've drained every ounce of energy, leaving a hollow sensation in your lower body that is increasingly uncomfortable.

He yearns to explore your body, to savor every curve and contour of your skin. However, he remains immobilized, his hands bound at the head of the bed. The relentless tugging creates faint red lines on his wrists, while his palms grow slick with sweat from the tension of his clenched fists, leaving crescent-shaped marks.

Your right hand finds its way to his throat, applying pressure that steals his breath and brings dark spots to his vision. He attempts to lift his head for a gasp of air, but you have no intention of granting him a moment's relief. Your rapid up-and-down movements force him to hold his breath. The overwhelming stimulation leaves him dizzy and pushes him to the limit.

"Ahh! Ahh!! Green!!" The moment he speaks the safe word, you instantly cease all movement, loosening your hold on his throat. "Are you alright? Is there any pain?" you inquire gently, a trace of worry lacing your tone. He hesitates, words escaping him as he simply gazes into your caring eyes. You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, your fingers gliding over his delicate skin until they rest on the vivid red birthmark.

Throughout his life as a slave, comfort has been a foreign concept, with no one ever caring for his well-being. In stark contrast to your indifference towards life in the heat of battle, you show genuine concern for him, striving to bring him joy. How could he possibly resist falling for you? Perhaps he's been ensnared by a different kind of poison, one known as "love at first sight." You lean closer, brushing your lips against his, captivated by the magic in his eyes.

"I can stop if you want." You remark. "No, please. I want you, master. I want my cock deep inside you again. I want to touch you. And has your poison been cured?"

Responding to his beg, you pull out from his body and free him from his bindings. Your gaze falls upon the bruises encircling his wrists, and you gently stroke them with your thumb.

"It appears my poison still lingers. Come and help me."

In an instant, he straightens up, his hands finding their way to your shoulders as he leans over you, pinning you down. Shock flickers in your eyes at his abrupt action, but you swiftly gather your calmness and align yourself with his intentions.

"Let me serve you, my lord." His face falls into your neck, sucking and biting your skin to leave a crystal clear red mark. He is really skilled at turning others on harder;the wet muscle trails down to your breast, licking your left nipple while squeezing another with his hand. His thumb circles it along the curve, giving a hard press to make you moan and throw your head at the back.

Guiding his cock to rub against your clit, he thrusts your cunt once again, hitting your sweet dead on. "Here, right?" He smirks with a sense of pride. "Ye..yah!" Not waiting for you to finish your words, his tip hits the same place once again. The waves of numbness make you squirm, and your screams are not as high-pitched as before, but with a shy feeling.

"I love your moaning, master." You let out an exasperated sigh, feeling a surge of warmth envelop you completely. Yeosang leans in, planting soft kisses along your neck while maintaining a steady rhythm. His shaft glides against your slick walls, creating a sound reminiscent of flowing water. With each thrust, he quickens his pace, closing the gaps between each tantalizing connection to your G-spot.

Your breath becomes shallow, and your heart pounds wildly as he maps out every curve of your body with his lips and hands, as if he were intimately familiar with every secret you hold. You wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his back, leaving a trail of marks on his skin.

Yeosang buries his head in your chest, groaning against it. You are so perfect for him, from head to toes. Just everything. Although he doesn't even know your name, your personality, he ensures you are the one he is looking for. Someone who cares about him, someone with whom he can enjoy sex.

He loathes the idea of sex, viewing it as a repugnant transaction. He has grown weary of the way others have treated him, often rough and unkind. Each encounter left him battered to some extent, reduced to nothing more than a plaything. Yet, when he sees you, everything changes. You bring him joy and tenderness, showering him with genuine care.

It may seem almost humorous, but deep down, he realizes that you are the only one he desires, and his body confirms the truth of his feelings.

He places your leg on his shoulder and thrusts as fast as possible. "Ah!Fuck!" "Please say my name, my lord. I want to hear you say it." "Oh…yeosang ar…" Shit! He is unable to control himself anymore. He withdraws a bit and pushes into your cunt in a powerful motion over and over again.

"I'm cumming, master." He feels his cock twitches as you keep sucking him in. "Cum…cum inside me." Yeosang's thrusts become rushed and lose his rhythm; you grab his shoulders, making an "O" shape with your mouth, panting as if you are about to run out of oxygen.

"Oh! Oh! God!" After a few more thrusts, you both reach climax; your hot juices cover his cock and his sperm creams your wall. He thrusts forward twice before pulling out, lying down beside you. After a short rest, the hot feeling in your body has finally dissipated, you get up and put your clothes back on, ready to leave.

"My body is already healed, thanks." You say without noticing his sadness.

"Aren't you staying?" Yeosang asks with confusion.

"Staying? Why? Didn't I tell you that I'm just here to detoxify? Also, I have work." Yes, you have to 'deal with' those people who treated Yeosang badly.

"Will you come back then?"

"Nope." You observe him bow his head, gently stroking his wrist before hesitantly reaching to the nape of his neck. Even in his silence, you can sense the thoughts swirling in his mind. "No worries. I'm gonna kill those people who treated you badly and you can be free."

"What? No…I…"

"Isn't this what you wanted? To leave the cage and no longer be bound by anyone."

"But I don't know where to go or what to do…I'm just a reward…"

"Then go find out, go explore what you want to do."

He lowers his head in silence, deep in thought. Suddenly, he tightens his embrace around you.

He bows his head, enveloped in his thoughts, and then suddenly tightens his hold around you, as if fearing you might slip away.

"Will you stay…? That's all I want. Please… don't leave me alone. You're the only one who cares for me. I'm yours, and I'd do anything for you. Just don't go."

You can't help but giggle at his endearing gesture, stroking his hair softly as you respond, "Are you really sure? I'm a knight, and my profession is to take lives."

"Yah!I'm yours! Just let me stay with you. I'll even give you a written promise, if that's what you want!""

Maybe he sees you as a lifeline. Although you have never thought about buying a slave, it seems that if you reject him, he may feel sad. Also, you don't want him to serve anyone else.

"Umm…fine."

"Really?" A radiant smile spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling with excitement. You give a nod in response.

"Can I cuddle you?" It's the first time he's asked this as a servant, and he can hardly believe he's free to follow his heart's desire. You nod again, and he gently pulls you down onto the bed, nestling his face against your chest.

"Just like a little puppy."

"Perhaps I know your name? My lord."

"Y/N."

"It sounds like a name for a genuinely good person."

"You're being overly dramatic." You chuckle softly, allowing him to wrap his arms around you as you both drift into a peaceful slumber.

Well, maybe this aphrodisiac isn't so terrible after all. And of course, you make your promise ─ kill others for him, only.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x female reader #ateez oneshot #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez yeosang #yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang ateez #yeosang x reader

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