kingofdesert - Tumblr blog

kingofdesert · 2 years

Text

Kissing your muses 💋

Sliding herself in her silk bathrobe, she stepped out of the bathroom after her shower, hair falling in a long purple cascade right against her back. It was strange how this mansion had become her home over the years, the dangerous and agonizing sensation of doing something forbidden entirely soothed today. She had accepted whatever feelings that might have bloomed inside of her chest, embracing her nature, violent and elegant, just like the man she was so fond of. A strange duality when she had been chasing men like him before, making sure she would break their ego to the depths of Hell.

However, Crocodile had proved himself to be a man she couldn’t despise. Appealed by his charisma since the first day she had laid her eyes on him, she had stayed by his side because she had found a purpose there. She had felt alive for the very first time of her life, not only driven by her will of vengeance, but certain she was finally able to become someone valuable. He had given her a place in this world, and while he was a wicked man of ambition and violence, she had understood she was safe by his side.

“Are you packing already?” She asked while she entered the bedroom, watching a few bags open on the different furniture and clothes waiting to be folded. Crocodile soon had a Shichibukai meeting, and as usual, he was preparing himself thoroughly. We would leave nothing to chance. Zeffy stepped closer, so small compared to his massive shape, the familiar scent of sand, cologne and cigar invading her nostrils. She would miss that aftertaste of Alabasta as soon as he would be gone, but that was a secret she intended to keep.

“It almost makes me nostalgic.” She hummed while she gently brushed his digits and invited him to the nearest chair. Crocodile was not a docile man, she knew it, but sometimes he could accept to follow her instructions. In these rare occasions, she would take the opportunity she had earned, immediately crawling on his lap to nuzzle against his chest, her cheek pressed against his pec. “I’ll take care of your business here; you have my word.”

She looked up, hazel eyes meeting a pool of golden colors, hypnotized once more by the deepness of his stare. She could melt there forever, the tempest she was quite tamed whenever he was giving her the attention she sometimes desperately craved. Perhaps she was looking obedient enough to him, because after a moment, his only valid hand was moving up to cup her chin, both of their faces just a few inches away. Zeffy understood her assignment, and while she was still looking at him, mapping his features until she would know them by heart, she gently pressed her lips on his, soon enough abandoning herself to something more passionate.

Tonight, she would make sure he could only think about the shape of her body and the sweetness of her lips - he knew her as well; she could be a woman of greed after all. // @kingofdesert

#♛ ᶤᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᶰᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶤᶰᵍ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ᶤᵗ ʳᶤᵍʰᵗ ⌜ ᵏᵉᵉᵖˢᵃᵏᵉ ⌟#♛ ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵉˢᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵐᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵘˡᵗᶤᵐᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵒʸ ᵐᵉ ⌜ ᵐᶤˢˢ ʷᶤˡᵈ ʷᶤᶰᵈ / ᶻᵉᶠᶠʸᵗʰᵉʷᶤˡᵈʷᶤᶰᵈ ⌟#[ I FOUND HER TAG ]#[ this was absolutely beautiful to read Miho!! ]#[ so soft too!!! ]#[ why she's still sticking with this grump is beyond me ]#[ but he isn't complaining ]#[ Zeffy is smitten; and Wani wouldn't want it any other way ]#[ he's smitten too ofc ]

4 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 2 years

Text

“And infatuated be damned. He was near to being blinded by his attraction to her. He was in love, damn it all. He disliked her, he resented her, he disapproved of almost everything about her, yet he was head over ears in love with her, like a foolish schoolboy. He wondered grimly what he was going to do about it. He was not amused. Or in any way pleased.”

A forbidden moment between two lovers. Meet Sir Crocodile and his untamable little tempest, Zeffy Heilm.

Masterpiece made by the incredible, awesome, unique, and perfect @papaphinkstwopointow 💜 my so awesome palo for many years now 💜💜 I’m sobbing so hard in front of this GLORYYYY

#distopea #♛ ᶤᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᶰᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶤᶰᵍ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ᶤᵗ ʳᶤᵍʰᵗ ⌜ ᵏᵉᵉᵖˢᵃᵏᵉ ⌟#♛ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵃʳᵗ ᶤˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃ ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᶤᵛᶤᶰᵉ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ ⌜ ᵖᵃᶤᶰᵗᶤᶰᵍˢ ⌟#[god. my tags have been aesthetically ruined by tumblr. gdi]#[I can't even find all my tags so I'll probably have to make new ones lol]#[but look at them! it's still one of fave server icons]#[and they're amazing:triumph:]

73 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 2 years

Text

『 carrd 』

#♛ ᵏᶤᶰᵍ'ˢ ᵘᶰᵗʳᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᵃᵈᵛᶤˢᵉʳ ⌜ ᵒᵒᶜ ⌟#♛ ᵈᵒᶰ'ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶤᶰ ᵐʸ ʷᵃʸ ⌜ ᵖʳᵒᵐᵒ ⌟#[ just going to reblog my brand on my own blog too ]#[ please; read the rules carefully before following ]#[ just because you follow me here doesn't mean you have to on other blog ]#[ I won't come at your kneecaps for it :P ]#[ to those that follow; meet my shitheads ]

10 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

relic·

How wonderful to see they were still seen as that atrocious name by some sources–Eternal Faster–look at them, still remembered by that inability to do something basic. Though how many believed it true? Few and far between, if they had to guess. Yet back towards previous words, did Loki’s gaze fall to a lifeless hue, mention of names and aliases, while inconsiderate to the idea that a true name may even be forgotten, or perhaps without a true representation at all. One which has no change in it’s essence while shifting in how to say or spell it. Surface level changes while remaining the name–the soul. Still it remains a single name. Yet for many things.

Though scarab’s wings, Loki surely did have a name they preferred, and a name they wished to die along with the man which provided them with it. Yet others using it so flippantly, they would hardly mind.

What first was told, intrigued and twisted, they did wonder how exactly they were portrayed. What were they now, a martyr? Oh what deaths did they make up for them? Another assassination? A suicide? Old age? Poison, perhaps. How they needed to visit some library of historic merit to find those tales of shimmering silk and serpentine scales. Each with miniscule truths that somehow perpetrate through the dull shell of lies and manipulation.

Oh but by brother’s mention, they of eldest, yet throne taken by the youth just below the line. Negativity flourished while positivity twinned it’s energy, twirling in spirals, competing while hindsight struck both towers of emotion with the flood of thunder. All old memories, aged with time and unable to recreate such true colours and magics. That spark of feeling that died as fast as their vision was extinguished by that dagger. Words from a youthful man passed through their ears, recollection blank and the idea that they had perhaps zoned out even for a moment could be read across their face. All a farce, however, with their focus never quite leaving. Yet a mix of reminiscence and remaining in the presence fought like the barraging serpents for charge–to break those chains.

“ All true to their own way, none too far from truth, while still being engrossed far deeper into the lying reality rather than the truthful fantasy. ”

Their life did seem a fantasy more than what reality had laid itself out for others. Serpents possessing their mind and fighting for control, life flourishing while the age of a dying body ceased as soon as they were consumed by the will of a man whom they’d wish to never call father again.

True colours did reveal, from this man whom, though by appearance could be mistaken for older, was far younger than the prince for who was invited to drink and enjoy the times till they have ended. How truly childish was he, to seek power–they guessed. To have failed–they have seen it before. To have waited–as they all did. Though years mentioned of counsel to their little brother, one of eldest yet remaining youthful to them. The remaining eyelid fell over their grey iris as they leaned back against their seat and let skinny scarred hands over their lap. Voice soft, caring almost, while carrying a bitter undercoat.

“ Nefertari Cerastes. I realize his name–lest the first–has passed on as did his intelligence had. He was idiotic, not prepared, how I could have taken my position so easily, and rightful it was…The thoughts had come. I did debate it with myself, yes. Ah, but do you know why I never acted upon it again? ”

A question they did not expect an answer from, nor did they give it the time to form as their eye opened once more and their head turned to the side to look off into something–not specified, nor really present. They looked passed time, passed life, an ancient’s vision. One locked to those in the current era.

“ There is a time and a place for rebellion, for assassination, for whatever name you may like to give it. Just as there is a place for leadership. So many forms for it, and expectations from the public. I am of the second dynasty, Crocodile. We were of youth, and still learning. Yet that is not exactly an excuse, is it? I witnessed foolish thoughts and speculations enter my brother’s mind, all far befitting of a leader. Then my gaze shifted to his son… ”

One of convolution, that boy…

“ I knew my place in Alabasta, at that moment. Would the kingdom be better with this flawed man ruling it? Or shall it be ruled for centuries by a single person, whom may not even be able to continue the line, who has been seen as a curse since the day of conception. One must think of their people before their own interests, their own flawed desires. ”

Finally did slit pupils move to look towards Crocodile once more, boredom now lying over that grey iris.

“ Thus I finally answer your question. I did act upon it once, though it wasn’t in secret to Cerastes. It was far more a challenge, a private one between the two of us. We dueled, a fight for who should take it. And when I stood over him with the tip of my blade against his throat I saw how much a child he still was. Despite my victory, I allowed him to rule onward. He would die, and move on to the field of grain before I did. He, to the public eye, was the rightful king. I may be a child of golden blood, I may have been eldest and the rightful one to sit at that throne. Yet at that moment, I realized my time and chance for ruling was not then. Not in that way. ”

A closure, perhaps, with flicking of a forked tongue out from their lips at the final word. Loki lifted a hand, finger pointed towards Crocodile and their brow raised and they spoke simply.

“ Now I look into your eyes, and I see but the infant he was. ”

Those of ancient memory had idiosyncratic views and speech, Loki being none the wiser to it, and yet, words that would be seen as ostentatious to many, were misplaced in their litany. Scintillating on first hearing to children and sycophants, but utter paradox to anyone of experience and knowledge. The ancient relic was left to go on, yet compared to the knowledge of centuries, their opinions were to be taken as anyone else’s with acrimony, and then, based on Crocodile’s own dichotomy, judged.

Had the other known that the man before them was far more finagle than at first sight, they most likely wouldn’t have bothered with their litany and kept the reply short. Yet, snakes were a paradox of existence, their roles just as insidious as their nature, but they were capable of propriety just as much. Their movement a red herring when needed, and their fangs a sharpened blade. Two things at once in a single moment of peradventure. Still, there was a lacuna in their reasoning, as if they wanted their words thwarted, or at least wanted to engage in such a manner. It was just as much a challenge as it was a trap, the emotions usually stirred by those of opposite opinion temerarious scilicet fugacious.

Golden hues never spoke of the opinion on the ending words, aware that those easily labelled wise often had no clue what respect was. Or rather that, despite the age and events of many summers lived, they weren’t able to see ubiquitously, rather subjectively and stuck in the past. For what was time to one that never died?

“ Essentially, you both got an easy way out. When words of one smarter become a good anchor or control, when a role model becomes either a cage or a key, the wise counsel supports the wisdom and the foolish man becomes a king. ” Lips stretched into a smile, like a knife cutting into flesh. “ You understood people wouldn’t want you on the throne, but you refused to let go of the power you could hold, one that was rightfully yours. So you propel your incompetent brother on a seat he wasn’t ready to be in, let his name be written down in stone, pretending it never mattered to you in the first place. The idea of doing it for your people, while noble and it might’ve served as the driving force, means little in the eyes of those who’d rather have you exiled. Still, it is befitting of your nature, but no one with an intention of ruling, or rather, the capabilities of leadership, be it by their own hand or by supporting the leading figure, should be selfless but the exact opposite. ”

“ You may disagree with it, but while I can’t speak for your brother, it seems to me you’re simply unable to comprehend different views on what being a king actually is. Your approach is idealistic, it leans towards uniting people through intellect and idealism of the mind rather than war and blood. Your brother might’ve been of a more conqueror mindset, thinking of kingship as something his people were supposed to envy and follow. Someone else might be a mix of both or a completely different entirely... I actually had a misfortunate opportunity of indulging a king for hours on the topic, and he concluded, after purposely keeping the subject alive, that there isn’t a right or a wrong way of being a king. It is simply that the king is right, no matter what he chooses. ”

He wouldn’t speak much of how the guy had angered him, how Socratic he was during the whole conversation. The thought alone almost gave him a headache, yet he wouldn’t call the whole experience terrible at that, simply call it one of the worst in his life.

Granted, Crocodile would never do what Loki had done. He was simply too ambitious to not find a solution to the problem, even if it took years to solve. In his eyes, Loki had given up. People’s hearts were able to be swayed, their opinions changed, but unlike the ideal of the mind he took as his approach, Loki was too much of a hypocrite to endure the full extent of it. One who valued people over all and supposedly thought of them, had to be more human than those people themselves. There was a chance Loki simply didn’t want to waste time on being accepted by others, yet another example of the paradox a snake was. And Loki wasn’t compared to a snake by accident.

“ Truly, the knowledge and experience of the world you posses paints those eyes in something golden, arcane. Reality, sadly, is as you’ve said, a lying one. What worth is all that experience and knowledge when the mind has never matured beyond the age it was trapped in? ”

#♛ ʳᵘˡᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵗ ⌜ ᶤᶜ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘˢ ⌟#♛ ❝ ʷᵉᵃᵏᶰᵉˢˢ ᶤˢ ᵃ ˢᶤᶰ ❞ ⌜ ᶤᶰᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ ⌟#zahraalgernon #♛ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵉᵐᵖᵉʳᵒʳˢ ᶜʳᵒʷᶰ ᵗʰᵉᵐˢᵉˡᵛᵉˢ ⌜ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ / ᶜᵃᶰᵒᶰ ⌟#[ Aeon random mention lmao ]#[ but I finally wrote something :hell: ]#[ I love describing and comparing Loki to a snake ]#[ it's just too fitting ]

18 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

Warmth of the sculptor's touch never left his creation.

#♛ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᶻᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵘʳᵉ ᵈᵉˡᶤᵍʰᵗ ⌜ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗᶤᶜ ⌟#♛ ᶤᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᶰᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶤᶰᵍ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ᶤᵗ ʳᶤᵍʰᵗ ⌜ ᵏᵉᵉᵖˢᵃᵏᵉ ⌟#♛ ᶤ ˢᵃʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᶰᵍᵉˡ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃʳᵇˡᵉ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶜᵃʳᵛᵉᵈ ᵘᶰᵗᶤˡ ᶤ ˢᵉᵗ ʰᶤᵐ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ⌜ ˢᶜᵘˡᵖᵗᵘʳᵉ ⌟#♛ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵒᶰ ᵃ ˢʰᶤᶜʰᶤᵇᵘᵏᵃᶤ ᵐᵉᵉᵗᶤᶰᵍ ⌜ ᵠᵘᵉᵘᵉ ⌟

2K notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

"Someone will remember us, I say, even in another time."

~Fragments of Sappho, circa 630 - 580 BC🕊️

#♛ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᶻᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵘʳᵉ ᵈᵉˡᶤᵍʰᵗ ⌜ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗᶤᶜ ⌟#♛ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵃʳᵗ ᶤˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃ ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᶤᵛᶤᶰᵉ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ ⌜ ᵖᵃᶤᶰᵗᶤᶰᵍˢ ⌟#♛ ᵗʰᶤˢ ᶜᵒᵘᶰᵗʳʸ ʷᶤˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵐᶤᶰᵉ ⌜ ᵐᵘˢᶤᶰᵍˢ ⌟

10K notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

cursed identity

Faint memories. Smaller details on an ever building fog that only pushed away itself when reminded of those larger aspects. Flaked in gold and rinsed through filters of sand, a shine to it without thought, an instinct that could only be described as tempering. Serpent’s tail, how it rattled onward and brought them few steps closer to that shining day, when all was returned and they may wait further years till requiring them-self to travel across the sea once more. A task it was, one coated in disgust and hatred, for the inner beauty of sweet and intriguing. To learn yet with risk of danger perpetuated by their inner self slowly depleting away from them. That outer shell become what reminds within, empty and unknowing of what would be the norm to say, while old memories plagued them and influenced every bone in their body. Ah, when death came again–it would be a true gift. Let it not be taken away again soon after that. Let higher powers not trick them into believing they would walk in that field for eternity.

Yet mention of death’s behest, last breath taken as the wind does leave the storms depleting air. Loki took no response physically and yet their eye did narrow and close for only a moment. The flash of shining dagger, the ocean’s abhorrence towards the devil that resided within, how it drained them of everything. A splitting root, spilling venom while life was taken so gruesomely. An uprooted life that never seemed to end, poison to kill the blood of gods. They had guessed the final breath, they knew it yet it was blended and shuffled.

Who. Who had done it. Who brandished their blade with the socket of their eye? Who.

“ Close. ”

A simple word for a simple gesture, their hand moved towards their face, a single thin finger tapping the unkempt scar that scattered strings across the side of their face. That was not there when they had taken their final breath. Ah, they perhaps had an eye, they could see the depths of the sea and the widespread clouds, the layers of every individual. No trouble with what may be closer or further. Still did it cause for adjustment, a lack of limb, from arm to eye, was a hinderance, no matter what or where it may be.

They hadn’t said a word after, the tapping over the scar was enough, they believed, to get the hint at least. Afterward, they lowered both hands to their side and slowed as they were offered a seat. One of pleasantry and kindness, a serpent took rest quite freely. It would have been quite easy, as it always was–and would continue to be. Stiffness, however, had tinged their neck at the sight of alcohol. Let it be by wine or spirit, it hardly mattered. The scent of it made their senses become flippant for even a single moment. The Alabastan prince relaxed their posture and waited though, for explanation of answer to the question they had provided. Till then, did they speak–oh after statement was made of preference and booze.

“ Perhaps it is to my liking, and yet I do not wish to delight myself in this fashion, not with another. Caution reigns my mind and alcohol requires a sense of control. As for fruit, I do not eat, I am afraid. ”

A warning, more like, with their dead grey eye relaxing boredly as they turned their gaze away from the glass of wine and rather towards Crocodile himself. A pirate, perhaps they could see it, however vaguely a possible. How plentiful they were in this era, it seemed every other person they came across was a pirate or connected to them. It was…unconventional, in Loki’s mind. Had the world no control or peace? No, it had never, and yet perhaps with over restricting, has this cause of pirates and crime be a warning or what is to come. Ah, they returned on the bridge of collapse, of change. How….lucky.

“ A single name for many things, that is what I see from your reply, Crocodile. Yet I feel there something more…Nonetheless, you carry yourself as one with knowledge, more than many. History, if I may. You offer so immediate with gifts and becoming guest to such honoured host. What have you the knowledge of myself? ”

A simple word, a simple furtive gesture. As the eyes caught it, he did have to silently come to the revelation that those gestures were the loudest and the most honest ways a soul spoke of its story. Lissome they were, graced with lassitude, yet a pastiche of the person before. Subtle changes on the art, in its complexity and structure, yet still honoring, complementing the original. And he found himself fond and disgusted by the word itself: change. The harbinger, as he saw it. An aphonic event in which one either became a butterfly willing to reenter the cocoon or suffer the fate of the phoenix. Poetic, crucial, a panacea to some, a chimera to others. His own a combination of both, resulting in a later fate, a cyclic rhythm of ups and downs which ended in a more cautious approach, in reaffirmation of what was to be kept close and what was to be handled as the mere tool.

The grudge against the cause of the change wouldn’t disappear years to come, but the lessons engraved in the body were an epoch to the man he was today. As the golden hues locked with the eye observing carefully, there was a sense of ephemeral understanding for the words spoken, the ones that would never be, and the ones which would in soon future. Caution was such a snake-like quality that ran through blood in their lineage, one that evoked a hearty laughter when shown on display. “ I won’t take offense. I would’ve considered you a fool if you had so easily trusted one you’ve just met. You didn’t strike me as a puerile person in the first place. ” Taste of pomegranate soon overtook the taste of vestigial cigar, sour and sweet and befitting of the topics he was sure they’d venture into. It was only a matter of time.

The identity before him an illusion, a reflection of the past in similar physical form, yet the ventures of mind had never been easily understood even by the one travelling. To which amount did one change? To which did they stay the same? What had the experience brought forth? What certainty was there the knowledge accumulated over years was true when the illusion itself could ratify it or disown it?

“ A single name for many things... Interesting wording, but that is what aliases are in the first place. Until they become so integrated in one’s persona they become the actual name. ” Their own identity similar to the one of Loki’s, an illusion masking the gold and sun behind it, one which they wouldn’t share, yet surely, there was always a name one preferred to the other, be it the occasion of its creation or deep-rooted reasoning. “ Of you I only know of knowledge that had been told me, or some that I had been able to read on my own. The eldest son of Alabastan royal family, an heir to the throne later stripped of his powers in the hierarchy and known as the Eternal Fester. There are stories which state everything in your life had been a setup from the get-go, some which depict you as a tragic hero forced into a story you weren’t allowed to write, some which depict you as a Byronic one. ”

A brief summary to one’s life, yet he figured the Alabastan prince wasn’t as interested in actually hearing his story retold, rather wanted to grasp of how much he was acquainted with his persona, or how much he had researched into it. “ Your personalty a reflection of cautiousness and experience, you’re a scholar and linguist with immense knowledge, an observer of events rather than the cause. What struck me as odd in your life was not the death itself nor the childhood, but rather the fact you’ve helped your brother rule without an attempt on his life to retake that which is yours, even if you yourself were more suited for the throne. ”

Or perhaps, there had been attempts and he just hadn’t found out about them. It was unusual and unbecoming of a snake not to, to fight its nature like so. The life of Lorelei dek Percival had always been a grey area for Alabastan royalty, his life a curse to the lineage, yet his intelligence a blessing. “ Have you ever tried to act upon it, Lorelei? I am fairly certain you thought about it, but the knowledge whether you have or not is out of my grasp in the present moment. And if not, why? ”

#♛ ʳᵘˡᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵗ ⌜ ᶤᶜ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘˢ ⌟#♛ ❝ ʷᵉᵃᵏᶰᵉˢˢ ᶤˢ ᵃ ˢᶤᶰ ❞ ⌜ ᶤᶰᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ ⌟#zahraalgernon #♛ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵉᵐᵖᵉʳᵒʳˢ ᶜʳᵒʷᶰ ᵗʰᵉᵐˢᵉˡᵛᵉˢ ⌜ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ / ᶜᵃᶰᵒᶰ ⌟#[ do tell me Nami if I overstepped with knowledge part so I can fix it ]#[ I tried to keep it minimal at least but yes; hmu if you want me to change anything ]#[ Loki is always chef's kiss; the tired snek ]

18 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Photo

thelogicofthetrance

Peace, you never seemed so tedious As now – no, never quite like this.

~ Sappho

Views of Galleria Borghese, Rome

#♛ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᶻᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵘʳᵉ ᵈᵉˡᶤᵍʰᵗ ⌜ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗᶤᶜ ⌟#♛ ᶤ ˢᵃʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᶰᵍᵉˡ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃʳᵇˡᵉ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶜᵃʳᵛᵉᵈ ᵘᶰᵗᶤˡ ᶤ ˢᵉᵗ ʰᶤᵐ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ⌜ ˢᶜᵘˡᵖᵗᵘʳᵉ ⌟#♛ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵒᶰ ᵃ ˢʰᶤᶜʰᶤᵇᵘᵏᵃᶤ ᵐᵉᵉᵗᶤᶰᵍ ⌜ ᵠᵘᵉᵘᵉ ⌟

14K notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

MISS ALL SUNDAY

“While I appreciate the thought, Mister Zero, I must ask that you stop leaving dehydrated corpses in the casino. It’s rather boring trying to deduce the conditions of the deceased when it’s quite obvious how they died.”

Miss All Sunday smiles, tilted her head ever-so-slightly. Her movements were like that of a snake’s - waiting, watching, in anticipation for the chance to strike at the first sign of danger.

Not that she feels she is in any danger (yet). She’s a necessity to his plans. The perks of being the last person alive who can read the ancient language, she thought wryly.

“I’ve also had some complaints from the staff - some of them want a raise.”

“ Dehydrated corpses? In Alabasta? In my casino? ” Furtively he observed her, surreptitious smile just barely tugging on his lips. Punishment by his own hand merciful and swift compared to barbaric and cruel if by his beloved pets. “ It is rather hot in Alabasta, Miss All Sunday, and water the most valuable of treasure. ”

Her untoward glare rippled his own cautious behaviour, her lithe figure and abyss-like eyes so far removed from anything mammalian, just like a snake, even if the colour rivalling the sky was just a penumbra. Survive, kill, hunt, her intentions under the dark scales unpredictable and venomous, as cold as the blood that ran through her veins. Yet, he knew, if he were to touch the skin, it would be his fingertips getting burned, the volcano underneath erupting at the slightest of touch. He hated the similarities, other times he loved them.

His hand stopped from signing the contract, the usual displeasure overtaking previous good mood. “ A raise? Miss All Sunday, are they implying they’re working harder than they did before? Is the staff doing their job better than last month and they demand to be rewarded for it? ”

#♛ ʳᵘˡᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵗ ⌜ ᶤᶜ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘˢ ⌟#♛ ❝ ʷᵉᵃᵏᶰᵉˢˢ ᶤˢ ᵃ ˢᶤᶰ ❞ ⌜ ᶤᶰᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ ⌟#tsvestidiabolus #♛ ᶤ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵘᵖ ᵖˡᵃᶰˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵘᵖ ᵖˡᵃᶰˢ ⌜ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ / ʰᵉʳᵒ ᵒᶠ ᵃˡᵃᵇᵃˢᵗᵃ ⌟#[he's resting bitch face mode but internally pikachu face]#[how dare people ask for more money? illegal! :joy:]#[poor Robin though; she has a lot on her hands]

3 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

Illustrations taken from "Matériaux et documents d'architecture et de sculpture" 1872 - 1914

#♛ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᶻᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵘʳᵉ ᵈᵉˡᶤᵍʰᵗ ⌜ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗᶤᶜ ⌟#♛ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵃʳᵗ ᶤˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃ ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᶤᵛᶤᶰᵉ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ ⌜ ᵖᵃᶤᶰᵗᶤᶰᵍˢ ⌟#♛ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵒᶰ ᵃ ˢʰᶤᶜʰᶤᵇᵘᵏᵃᶤ ᵐᵉᵉᵗᶤᶰᵍ ⌜ ᵠᵘᵉᵘᵉ ⌟

136 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

MEMENTO HISTORY

With every step did memories come and go, passing as the wind or the cigarette smoke from the younger. Loki hadn’t the words to speak or interrupt, rather intrigued by the words spoken, every phrase taken as equally as the next. All taken to consideration–all a study of the other. For many a reason, yet one could learn miles through actions and tone more than words that could underlie lies. Of words that caught an ever curious serpent was mutual opportunity. Oh of both benefit.

With travels of centuries, holding knowledge long dead and erased, desire could come out as near lust for such knowing breaths. A threat, oh a threat, could such spectator be seen, through endanger eyes and childish positions. Through the highest peaks of royalty, and lowest depths of ocean’s best. All encapsulated in one mind, one life, in ways one death. How years have passed, yet behest those years such were written down, yet year they did pass no words in libraries nor among whispers of peddlers and sickly. Learn they did of blasphemy and lies, slander of peakish idiocy passed through by higher beings in disguise while being human of blood, perpetuated by their own selfishness to rule. Fear in another that provided imbalance and discord, after settled wars and battles, what did they do? But create more severance and polarity. How ironic, they found, that from one to another, the world’s ever tightening leash was passed, from peaceful with threat of ancient perception, to selfish and walking upon broken bridges. It scented of spilled wine, of a child’s attempt to act an adult. In that, even oldest of this age, fell short at least one century to their own expansive years. Yet look, they did, many years their senior.

Loki did sigh, a breath ancient yet in a world younger and inexperienced. They did not give knowledge freely, perhaps to children who knew little better–but those of adults, they required more than simple trivia.

Oh but then was their attention caught away from reminiscing of past years, and now of question. So humorous to look an age barely pass childhood, barely an adult, they were stuck yet scarred. Nothing had changed, and it since hadn’t. Yet their memory overflowing and some parts like shattered glass, hard to put together. A haze overlaying their mind that proved minor details to be hard to recall. Perhaps death was what put fog over them all to finally set them to rest. Yet with already two years back on their belt of life, those foggy memories have since began to clear.

“ Ah but old age comes in many ways, let it be through eldering eyes or soul, not only in wrinkled skin or thinning limbs. I have been marred beyond belief, and my memory a veil, I travel to remember, even if those bigger, more important one could say, details have remained without fog or otherwise. ”

Keeping it vague did assist in the passing, most would not question, or perhaps in their mind they would trivial the thought of asking yet not say such thing. A child’s curiosity would request what words they spoke might mean in such context, to which they might explain better. Yet adults could figure out on their own. They paused for moments before continuing, raising a hand to their neck and settling it carefully around thinner skin from lack of nutrients. Although they still looked full in a way, no meal never stopped their life, it would not then, it would not now.

“ I speak of myself, yet I know nothing aside from your name of you? A name might hold power, yet I require more before I speak too freely. It is a mutual opportunity, after all. Is it not? ”

Free, chaotic, wind followed its path, even if it had infinite possible destinations. Yet, it still had a destination but was there an end to its journey? It was the air with passion, a drive that powered onward, every direction as its option. Lithe and diaphanous, amorphous and equally rancid, and dressed in robes of melancholy. Yet, those who let it blow and sing of songs lost long ago, those who let it bring sweet memories of times gone knew how beguile the wind was. Whether it spoke of the gift of living, or bebiett the emotion of grieving, it would deprive the one it touched. Similar was knowledge.

And knowledge of the world’s history gathered throughout millennia walked next to him, the one whose eye had witnessed the beginning and written it down in memory. Enraptured by the opportunity ahead, he was genuinely bemused how the threads of a tapestry intertwined, slowly creating a crystalline design painted over by that considered ineffable. And all of it reminded of home. Of the golden soul painted with a brilliant sky and the story of a resilient nature born to survive and thrive. It spoke of the kingdom above others, of his rightful domain, his, his, his! It reminded of the finest linen, of the most pleasant lullabies, of poems and alabaster stone, grandeur of architecture, of gods, political influence, military strength - the oasis on Earth. He had always been nothing but fascinated with it, yearning for that which was denied him - the birthright of the son of Amun-Ra.

A smile tugged at his lips, the words of his ancestor (he was sure at that point, he had heard too much about him) nothing but the confirmation he needed. “ We have a tendency to forget details which we deem unimportant. Even if you had a different experience, there was a high chance you wouldn’t remember it, which implies that even if you remember the most important, there are minor details you’ve forgotten that are of value, whether personal or on a larger scale. ” Golden eyes observed that ahead, a long satisfied breath of air taken into his lungs. “ Your soul may have aged, but your body is youthful. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s exactly as it was on the day you took your last breath. Well, what was presumed your last breath. ”

Regal strides took him forward, and even if legs walked on the paved path, mellifluous and ineffable pride took him to the desert itself, even if it was ephemeral. Vague, as expected of someone cautious, it didn’t surprise him Lorelei let him decipher things on his own, hence why he wouldn’t confirm directly he knew who the one walking beside him was. Even if he hadn’t for a second doubted the man realised it as well.

Servants waited for his return, the table set with wine and fruit, and a book for his afternoon reading. Usually it was Daz who would sit in the other chair as company, even if the man was never interested in finer arts, however, on spotting Crocodile, he had stood up and offered the seat to the guest. “ As suave with your negotiations as you are with words, Lorelei. ” He hummed as he relaxed in his chair, his reply coming swift. “ On this island, these people know me as their master, on the seas, I am a pirate. On black market, I’m a former leader of a crime organisation, and in Alabasta I’m a casino owner. ”

Slowly his gaze traced the offerings, later focusing on Loki. “ The offered is to my personal preference. If yours does not align, I’ll have it fetched whatever it is you do prefer. ”

#♛ ʳᵘˡᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵗ ⌜ ᶤᶜ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘˢ ⌟#♛ ❝ ʷᵉᵃᵏᶰᵉˢˢ ᶤˢ ᵃ ˢᶤᶰ ❞ ⌜ ᶤᶰᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ ⌟#zahraalgernon #♛ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵉᵐᵖᵉʳᵒʳˢ ᶜʳᵒʷᶰ ᵗʰᵉᵐˢᵉˡᵛᵉˢ ⌜ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ / ᶜᵃᶰᵒᶰ ⌟#[:tear:]#[Loki just reminds him of Alabasta hahah]#[and that reminds him just lightly of mom :tear:]

18 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

“ What’s up with all these brats? ”

#♛ ʳᵘˡᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵗ ⌜ ᶤᶜ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘˢ ⌟#(Tbd.)#dash com.#[tfw you just want to murder someone but all you see are kids on your dash]

3 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

#♛ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᶻᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵘʳᵉ ᵈᵉˡᶤᵍʰᵗ ⌜ ᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗᶤᶜ ⌟#♛ ᵛᶤˢᵘᵃˡ ᵃʳᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢ��ᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵒᶠ ᶤᵗˢ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ⌜ ᵃʳᶜʰᶤᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ ⌟#♛ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵒᶰ ᵃ ˢʰᶤᶜʰᶤᵇᵘᵏᵃᶤ ᵐᵉᵉᵗᶤᶰᵍ ⌜ ᵠᵘᵉᵘᵉ ⌟

882 notes · View notes

kingofdesert · 3 years

Text

STRANGER

Icyblue eyes focused on his drink, Mads is rather calm regarding his new mission.Far from his men after his recent affectation to the intelligence department ofthe Navy, the new fleet admiral Sakazuki has requested him to put an end to theBlack Market and hunts down whoever could be connected to this undergroundnetwork. Not the easiest task for sure, but Mads has always been a man ofactions, trustworthy, and quite good when it comes to infiltrate dangerousplaces. However, Mads’ thoughts regarding the new justice and the way the world is moving are definitely unsettled, as he, for obvious reasons, doesn’tappreciate Sakazuki and his lack of interests for his men. Dubious, Mads isthinking about the whole point of this mission; to serve the Navy, yes, but toanswer the commandment of a man who only likes his power? Absolutely not.

“Anotherone.” He taps his slender index against his empty glass of whisky, as he’shaving a drink in an inn where he’s almost sure to spot a certain man during the evening.

Ofcourse, he kept his plan to meet the former warlord Crocodile secret and unknown from his superiors, as no one gave him the order to find him in the first place,especially since this man is wanted. Fact is, Mads believes that Crocodile, whoescaped Impel Down a few months ago, could have the necessary inputs to fulfillhis mission, and take down one of the biggest name whispered in the BlackMarket, Joker. Somehow, with hisformer bounty hunters’ network, Crocodile must know a few things. However, thevice-admiral also believes that negotiating with him would be probably thehardest task; Crocodile is a careful, intelligent and dangerous man and Mads would likely have something to offer in return. HisAlabastan coup has almost been perfect, if only he didn’t cross the path of atroublesome pirate on his journey to ravish the throne, which means that he’ll have to play smart. Deep down, Mads somehowadmires this ability to have a fully prepared plan, perfected for years, himselfsharing the same spirit, preferring to have a back-up plan and think about hisstrategy.

Whilethe bartender slides another glass of whisky on the counter, Mads eventuallyraises his eyes from the drink, finally spotting the man he has been lookingfor days. The ghost of a smile blooms at the corner of his lips, as strangely,he feels energized and thrilled to challenge and potentially converse with a skillfulman like Crocodile. However, he must remain patient; surely Crocodile must bealready aware of his presence, and would be nothing but wary.

The sounds of invisible shackles of yore rattle in the inn, drumming against the floor the misery of their owners. Mixed with tenebrous cheers and chatter in a place where supernal doesn’t exist, they wreathe the metal around necks until there is no room to breathe, until the purpose of the one they rest on has been served. Plethora of possibilities, he is reminiscent of past, the burning flames of hatred that kept him alive and engulfed those in his way, the games he would so willingly play. Serendipity lifts lips into a smirk as perfidious eyes find the man they were searching for.

Rutilant hook a giveaway of the man in question, an aphonic arcane order demands amort eyes are lowered to mind their business. Obeyed as it is meant to be, but not by all, a word passes shortly from Daz’ lips to his ear, those serving instinctively paying attention to the impostor. Golden eyes don’t mind the newcomer, they focus on the matter at hand. A demand that sought his presence to confirm the truthfulness of his words.

The exchange of information swift, it is only business he came to do. He doesn’t plan to linger too long, only to collocate his pieces for the next move. Fastidious, as he always is, he doesn’t give away his satisfaction or, therefore, lack of it, leaving the man unsettled and questioning. However, business they end up agreed upon is of sapidity, and money is exchanged for services. Invisible and deniable, should need arise, even if small part of his plan, it is equally important.

He then focuses on the new face entirely, weighting the possibility of meeting prior, and knows they haven’t. He personally doesn’t care what the man is there for, whether a casual drink or an actual business offer. If he seeks business, he will have to make the move first. That’s how it usually goes.

As he’s served brandy, he keeps attention on Daz, sharing the next few instructions which the man is more than willing to carry out, then switching to chit-chat, and suddenly, he grins. Daz always had such unique ways of causing tumult, the man really earned his place by Crocodile’s side, as a right-hand man and as a friend. “ You’re a barbarian and a comedian all at once. ” He jokes, laughter soon following. Rich and puissant it echoes, and he beckons the stranger to come over. Best to get it all over with so he can sleep soundly later.

#♛ ʳᵘˡᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵗ ⌜ ᶤᶜ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘˢ ⌟#♛ ❝ ʷᵉᵃᵏᶰᵉˢˢ ᶤˢ ᵃ ˢᶤᶰ ❞ ⌜ ᶤᶰᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ ⌟#♛ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵉᵐᵖᵉʳᵒʳˢ ᶜʳᵒʷᶰ ᵗʰᵉᵐˢᵉˡᵛᵉˢ ⌜ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ / ᶜᵃᶰᵒᶰ ⌟#kanzeii #[finally got to this one!]#[thx for the patience Miho]#[good luck Mads; you'll need it]

4 notes · View notes