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fuzedatti · 1 year

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II. Primordial Alagadda

───── ❝ 𝐀𝐧 𝐒𝐂𝐏 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 ❞ ─────

Masterlist

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Lucifer banishing from heaven gave him a kingdom of his own, a reality far away from God. If pride is hereditary, then Meská is the descendant of Lucifer.

Being exhiled, Meská was stranded for decades under the burning sun and melancholy winters. It took a long time for someone to finally find him. No matter who was destined to find him, he just wanted to go explore the New World and see how to get more power. 9th Earl of Northumberland, or Henry Percy, was the lucky one to encounter the entity, immediately recognizing its potential.

The sorcerer Earl, as he was known, had been imprisoned in the Martin Tower of the Tower of London, although he enjoyed privileges such as books and other research material. Being a famous alchemist, he had to quench his thirst for knowledge, and the mask seemed to be the missing piece. His magnum opus, The Iron Gate, was being completed.

Meská had no idea what the alchemist was doing, but he saw that on his walls there were three other masks hanging similar to him. He figured out the situation; An imprisoned alchemist with delusions of grandeur and unlimited resources? He was up to no good. Memories are somewhat diffuse, Percy was building something inside that door that radiated sin. He joined the masks and placed them delicately on the ground to preach these words:

Nigredo. We will confront the dark night of the soul - the pineal gland will be freshly extract'd. fire evokes the shadow within.

Albedo. Wash aroint the impurities - rain cleanses all sin and prepares the soul f'r Elysium. Divide, not as dictat'd by the rigors of harmony, but rather into two opposing principles to be later coagulat'd to form a unity of opposites.

Citrinitas. Victory coincides with the yellowing of the lunar consciousness. the white surrenders to dawn; the travelling lamp slays the moon.

Rubedo. Red alludes; instead, surrender upon the apparatus a sanguine sacrifice.

It seemed to be the steps to create the Philosophal's Stone. Though his voice was poetic, it didn't work. There was no paranormal event or anything like that. The sorcerer was disappointed in himself, abandoning his experiment after a short time. Meská, now trapped in that dark room surrounded by inanimate masks, cursed in his mind for the next 1000 years of eternal boredom that awaited him... Until something happened.

A God-shaped hole opened into the room. Radiating arrogance, it negligently took the masks and handed them over to another, even more imposing presence, but this one generated fear, despair. In the blink of an eye, the room stopped being small and became an entire kingdom. As if it were a cosmic expansion, the place seemed to keep growing. The masks began to gain consciousness and grow a physical body, including Meská.

Now together with their companions they went to the two previous figures. Firstly, the one who had rings on his neck and a crown for his head, introduced himself as The Ambassador of Alagadda. At his side, there was a king with a veil completely covering his face, bent over and chained, this was The Hanged King.

Curiously, no one spoke, everything was a change of essence between them. The four masks were named Masters and Lords of Alagadda, in charge of advising the King. Each one was given a name and position. Meská found the whole thing rather intriguing, so he went with the flow this time.

The yellow mask was given the name of The Yellow Lord, bearer of the Odious mask. The white one, The White Lord, bearer of the diligent mask. The one in red, The Red Lord, bearer of the mirthful mask. And finally, Meská, The Black Lord, bearer of the anguished mask.

They Lords accepted their titles, entering the now complete palace. Out of the corner of their eyes, they could see the non-Euclidean constructions. The previously mentioned four Lords seemed to be the only ones in that little universe. The ocher yellow sky was painted with distant black stars. The Black Lord was beginning to like this place, big, glorious, and creatures similar to them could be seen emerging from the ground; A new kingdom ready to be led.

Meská tried to talk with his companions, but was only rebuffed by his enthusiasm. Bored again, he went to prowl the streets of this new world. Among all the "citizens" he found one with a picturesque appearance. Tall, covered in plumage and a curious raven-shaped mask.

—A rather perfect city, shall I say– The entity petrified upon hearing it, trying to pass it by. —Wait!– He took his arm.

—My master and Black Lord, you must not speak to a mere subject like me.–

—Ugh, barely two minutes into my existence and they already treat me like a God...– He paused. —It brings me so much joy!–

Confused, he freed himself from his Lord's grasp but not before hearing him yell: "What is your name?" and the crow, tense, would answer: —Herald, Herald of Kul-Manas.–

"What a curious name" he thought. The idea of leading such a submissive people seemed incredible to him. There was only one problem, there was no chance that the Hanged King would want to resign his position. He would need a plan, something would occur to him to overthrow the King and be able to have everything at his mercy, for now he would be just discovering more of this mysterious world and what it has to offer.

He wonders if ravens were always this beautiful.

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This chapter has a fragment extracted from SCP-2264.

#olympus scp #scp #scp 049 x scp 035 #scp 035 x scp 049 #alagadda #scp 2264 #the black lord #the white lord #the red lord #the yellow lord #the hanged king #the ambassador of alagadda #scp fanfiction #scp fanfic #fanfic #scp 035

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bagofshinyrocks · 2 months

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Green-Eyed Monster

Prompt: Established relationship; Reader is jealous of someone flirting with their spouse Thranduil, who is oblivious [inspo from @nightfall-writer]

Featuring: Thranduil Oropherion x GN!Spouse!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: nothing besides my "Tauriel and Legolas are BFFs" propaganda

You had no reason for envy.

You were happily wed to the love of your life. Joined the royalty of Eryn Galen through your marriage to the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion. Doted upon by your husband, and cared for by your subjects. You wanted for nothing.

And yet… in had crept “the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on” (Othello III:3).

There was never any doubt in your mind that Thranduil was faithful to you. His love for you was as unwavering as water downhill. As was yours for him.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you, and all but melted into your embrace in the privacy of your bedchambers. The touch of your hand more calming than chamomile. The taste of your lips more intoxicating than wine. Your bare skin more alluring than a soft bed after a long day.

But as wise and regal as your husband was, he could be a bit thick in the head at times.

It had been a whole ordeal for the two of you to come together in the first place. A host of conspirators, led by Legolas and Tauriel. An idiotic dance as the two of you convinced yourselves that your feelings were unrequited. You were surprised that your now step-son had not smacked either of you upside the head at least once. His patience was unparalleled. In this instance at least.

So you couldn’t quite blame your husband for not recognizing others’ romantic interest in him.

There were nobles from other lands, elf, dwarrow, and man alike, who were visiting. After the Battle of the Five Armies and the retaking of Erebor by the line of Durin, he decided (i.e. he was persuaded) to expand trade relations, renew treaties, and welcome ambassadors. It seemed that almost every month brought someone new to his halls.

And you weren’t surprised that someone else would find your husband attractive. Not at all.

When you first met him, you could barely breathe. Ageless beauty. Sleek, shining blond hair. Piercing blue eyes. Luxurious clothing and jewelry with more detail than one could find in a day. Voice and speech that crept into your ears and made a home in your mind. You found the Sindar attractive the moment you saw him.

For an ambassador or noble to find Thranduil handsome meant their eyes functioned in some capacity. To find his voice and speech charming, their ears. That did not bother you. It was when their feelings changed like yours did, from aesthetic appreciation to romantic desire.

And he was oblivious to it all. Your speechlessness the day you met, your intimidation at meeting a king. The eagerness for those to meet with him, an eagerness to engage with Eren Galen and its wealth of materials, labor, and beauty.

Jealousy seemed so irrational an emotion. Thranduil was wholly yours; inattentive towards other romantic pursuits. Doted upon you. Craved your company and affection at all times

But it ate at you. Others and their lingering glances. Flirtatious words. Gentle brushes against him. And the ugliness of what you felt.

Your marriage was still recent, especially by elven standards. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. To act like a child who refuses to let others play with their toy. You would turn away and pretend you did not see it, or skip meetings you were not invited to.

Thranduil was concerned. Held you close at night. Reminded you how much he loved you and how brilliant you were. How lucky he was to have you in his life and as his spouse. He must have thought that all the social engagements were draining you.

“I thank you for meeting with us, sir.” You stood from your seat at the head of the table, and everyone else leaped to their feet. It was still a little strange for so many people to hang on your every word. “I will bring your proposal to King Thranduil shortly.”

The man from Dale beamed and bowed low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Most of the councilors filed out, but the nobleman scampered over to your side. Another low bow which you met with a nod.

“Long have I heard of the beauty of elves, Your Majesty…” A quirk in your eyebrow reminded him of his place, and he quickly caught himself. “The beauty of your halls, your craftsmanship and arts. It is an honor to see it all.”

You gave him a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. You are too kind.”

He opened his mouth again for more flattery, but another voice interrupted. One from the doorway.

“Meleth nín?”

There stood your husband, dressed in robes blue as water in moonlight. A tall crown of silver branches. White stones imitated snow and ice amongst the delicate wire.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said, not even sparing the nobleman a glance, “but I must speak with my love now.”

The nobleman quickly excused himself, but hadn’t the chance to leave the room before Thranduil had your hands in his, and his lips on yours.

When he leaned in, you expected a chaste kiss against your cheek. Instead, one hand settled on the back of your neck, and the other placed your hand against his chest. Its opposite quickly mirrored and both of your hands held the fabric of his robe.

Your lips were shiny and your face warm by the time your husband pulled away from you. All the tension had melted from him, and he wasted no time in pressing his forehead against yours and letting his eyes flutter closed again. Once his breath came easy again, he gave you a chaste kiss on the nose.

“Forgive my forwardness, meleth nín,” he cooed in Sindarin, a gentle brush of his hand over your cheek.

“Nothing to forgive, husband.” A kiss to his nose. “How could I be upset at the notion that my husband, the most handsome of all who have lived, live now, and will ever life, desires me?”

A smile at your words, and another kiss on your forehead.

That evening, the two of you were entwined on the couch in your apartments. His head rested against your chest, against your heartbeat, and your fingers combed through his hair and rubbed his back.

A fire crackled in the hearth, and two half-drunk goblets of wine sat on the table at your elbow. A comfortable silence, broken after a good while by a single word.

“Beloved,” he asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“I have a confession. And need your advice.”

The hand formerly in his hair transferred to gently scratch the back of his neck and you briefly squeezed him close with the other arm. He adjusted so he could look up at your face a bit better.

“Of course, meleth nín. What is it?”

“When you were speaking to that man from Dale… I had a foolish thought. Jealousy. I’ve felt it a great deal over the past few weeks, thought I never acted upon it. Until today. I feel childish now, interrupting and publicly expressing physical affection in neither the right time nor the right place. I-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips. A startled noise from him, then he pulled himself further up the couch so you could kiss more passionately. He wasn’t entirely sure why you were so taken with the idea of him being so immature, but he was glad you weren’t disappointed.

A quick huff of breath as you pulled apart.

“I love you so much,” you panted, then breaking into giggles. His brows furrowed.

“What is so funny?”

You kissed his nose. “Because I have been feeling jealous the past few weeks. And I hadn’t a clue you were feeling similarly.”

“Why are you feeling jealous?”

“Because,” you flicked his chest, “you have an entourage of nobles, merchants, and ambassadors doting after you. And I was disappointed in myself for being so immature.”

“I do?”

A very unregal snort from you. “Meleth nín, for one so wise, you are so…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

More giggles from you. “Very well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and his nose was tucked comfortably against your throat. The soothing warmth of his breath and the movement of his chest almost lulled you to sleep.

“I don’t think feeling jealousy is a bad thing,” you mused, fingers tracing the embroidery of his leisure dress. “It is a natural part of our behavior, to feel protective of things we love. And you weren’t rude or aggressive, for which I would have been unhappy. I’m glad you love me so much that somewhere in you,” a tap to the side of his head, as if to point the spot out, “a primal sliver encourages you to keep me all to yourself.”

A deep kiss from your husband. One hand behind your neck, cradling your head. The other crept between your back and the couch, fingers pressing into your flesh, pulling you into him as if any distance between you two still existed. You were smiling wide against his lips.

“How silly we both are,” he chuckled after leaning back for air.

Your fingers combed through his hair, finally settling to gently scratch the scalp around his ears.

“Indeed we are, my love.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2024 March 7

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fluff #thranduil oropherion #thranduil oropherion x reader

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violettduchess · 11 months

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My favorite writer taking requests! I have to ask for Carlo and kiss 8 - dying to see what you come up with!

A/N: Here you go, anon! This took some time but I hope you enjoy it! 💜

Carlo x f! Reader

Word Count: 3106

Today:

How did I get here?

You stare at yourself in the floor-length mirror, taking in the fitted, shimmering green skirt that is supposed to represent a mermaid’s tale, the filmy pale pink and yellow of the material wrapped around your midsection and chest. Your bare shoulders and upper arms have been dusted with pearlescent white powder, your hair held out of your face by small hair pins in the shape of seashells. You look every inch the siren, foreign and mystical and not at all like yourself.

Behind you, you hear footsteps across the wooden platform, soft muttering in the language of Benitoite and you turn to see Carlo, Prince Silvio’s aide, followed by the twittering costume designer as he approaches to get a look at himself in the mirror. Gone is the solemn man in the plain clothing that skirted the border of being shabby but saved itself through quality of material. His ebony curls have been freshly washed and brushed away from his angular face, his dark blue eyes, the color of the sea at midnight, lined with black kohl. His usual fitted shirt has been replaced by a swashbuckler’s billowy tunic, wide open to reveal a surprising amount of well-muscled chest. Carlo used to work down at the docks before Prince Silvio found him, recognized the flame of intelligence that burned in those dark eyes and plucked him out of one life stained with hardship and into another one of research and service. Fitted black trousers hug shockingly well-formed legs, the calves of which are also covered by knee-high black leather boots. A sword hangs loosely about his hips, drawing far more attention to that area than it should.

He looks up from fussing with the scabbard, seeing you and he stops walking, nearly causing the costume designer to crash into him. With a few chirps she flits from here to there, making minute adjustments now that he is finally standing still, not noticing the way your gazes have locked with one another, the way his throat works as he swallows, trying to fight the sudden dryness. You have stolen his capacity to breathe, to think. How, how will he ever even remember his lines when he has to see you.....looking like that?

You turn away, hand pressed against the thunder of your heartbeat.

How did I get here?

Yesterday:

In your role as Rhodolite diplomat, King Leon has sent you to many places. You had proven yourself during your time as Belle and he valued your judgment in many matters. He had been especially impressed with the way you had won over his brothers, each and every one of them coming to, if not exactly like you, at the very least respect you. There was no one else he would have been happier to see take on a representative role, your intelligence and kindness and charm qualities befitting an exemplary ambassador.

You had chosen the gift for the Benitoite royals with care: a first-edition copy of a play by one of Rhodolite’s most famous writers, a tragic love story between a sailor and a mermaid who fell madly in love with one another but whose families were locked in a centuries-long feud that would ultimately lead the sailor to drown in the arms of his lover rather than be apart from her. Leon had chosen this gift as the story is set in what is now Benitoite and hoped it would please the royals.

And it had. Perhaps too much. Silvio, mercurial as he is, had decided he wanted to not just read the play, but actually watch it be performed. When he had been informed that the national thespian troupe was on tour, traveling throughout the Ruby kingdom, he had turned those sharp ocean eyes onto you.

“I’m sure the ambassador is willin’ ta do just about anythin’ to please us. Ain’t that right?”

Alarm bells began tinkling in the back of your mind but you found yourself sitting up straighter at the table, head tilting to one side as you regarded the haughty prince. A smile, much calmer than you felt, touched your lips.

“Of course Prince Silvio.”

He leaned back in his plush chair, necklaces jangling softly as he crossed his arms. Something about the expression on his face made those alarm bells begin chiming even louder.

“Then I say you do it. You can be the mermaid princess and uh....” His gaze scanned the room and landed on the man standing by the doorway, half in a shadow, quietly reading from a small, black leather-bound book. “Carlo!” The man looked up, startled.

“Yes, your Highness?”

Silvio smiled broadly. “You will play the lovestruck sailor.” He nodded once, pleased with himself. “Arrange for costumes, music, and all that shit. I wanna see the play tomorrow.”

Carlo blinked as he looked around the room, his expression one of bewilderment. The leap from whatever he had been reading to his new reality seemed to have clogged the mechanisms of his brain as he comprehended what had just happened.

“Go on.” Silvio waved a jangly hand carelessly in your direction. “Go meet your lover.”

His gaze jumped from Silvio to you and the question he was asking himself was written plain as day on his face:

How did I get here?

Several hours later you found yourself in the library, which normally would have thrilled you to no end. Except instead of foraging for new literary treasures, you stared at the gift you had brought like it was to blame, while Carlo stared at you, looking a bit like an owl that had been awoken far too early from its slumber and wasn’t quite sure if it was night or day.

Silence filled the room, snaking its way around bookshelves and wrapping you both up in its tendrils, leaving you awkwardly stiff and unable to form words. You had introduced yourselves, fumbling over each other’s sentences, words clumsily knocking into each other, and then you had placed the book on the desk with a loud thump.

Since then, there was no sound.

Finally you cleared your throat. “Staring at it isn’t going to help us. It seems Prince Silvio really is expecting us to….perform this.”

Your voice cut the strings that the room’s silence had been holding him hostage with and he sank into the chair across from you, a frown on his surprisingly handsome face.

“I would try and speak to him but I fear if he knew how much neither of us wanted to do this, he would dig his heels in even more and perhaps invite outsiders to witness our….production.”

You found yourself regarding him a moment as he ran a hand through his dark curls. “You really know him well.” Silvio Ricci was not a man that let people close to him. Clearly Carlo was one of the exceptions.

A smile, ephemeral as quicksilver, touched his lips. “Si. He is truly….exceptional in many ways.”

You sensed how there was more underlying his words, an entire iceberg under that small sentiment that poked out from the ocean of his experience with Silvio. But now was not the time….you tore your gaze away from him, clearing your throat as you placed your hands on either side of the book.

“I can edit this…write out the lines of the most important scenes. That way we don’t have to worry about the entire play.”

He nodded, encouraged by your brilliant idea. “Excellent thinking, Signora.”

You glanced at him. “You can use my name.” You added a warm smile, lifting one shoulder with a shrug. “After all, we’re going to be scene partners, aren’t we?”

You didn’t expect the flustered way he ran a hand through his dark curls, a faint dusting of warmth falling across his slanted cheekbones.

“If…if you insist.”

Tilting your head, you searched for and caught his gaze, your warm smile still in place. “I do.”

He nodded, rising from his seat to walk over to a desk across the room, kneeling to open a drawer. That smile was fogging his brain and he needed a moment away from its radiant light. You weren’t aware of the effect you were having on him. You were suddenly far more aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders as he crouched, rifling through that drawer and the narrow taper of his waist as he rose back up to full height. Quickly you forced your attention back to the play, opening up to the list of characters, blinking against the swift barrel roll your blood was doing inside your veins. A moment later, Carlo returned, setting several sheets of blank paper and a fountain pen of marbled blue and silver next to you.

“You can write out our lines here?”

“Yes, perfect. Thank you.” And you got to work, forcing yourself to focus on the familiar play rather than the man who was smiling so openly it made you literally ache to touch his cheek, close to that smile.

Another hour had passed. Outside the sky was readying itself for the night, painting itself in the most striking orange and pink. You were writing madly, lost in your work as you read over the famous play, picking out the most important scenes and transcribing key lines that would keep the story intact but trim away any extras. Carlo peeked over the top of his notebook, his mind distracted from nautical calculations and oceanography notes by…..you. You, lost in the play, mouthing certain lines as you copied them out diligently. And in beautiful handwriting, no less. Especially when compared to his own chicken scratch. You, so focused, trimming the play like a master butcher, carving out the heart of the story from within the many words. He understands that kind of concentration, that singular mindset as you navigate work like a skiff on the water. That was what he told himself anyway, that he was interested in watching you work and not in the way the evening light, spilling in through the library windows, blanketed you in its softness, catching highlights in your hair, the rose of your lips, the brightness of your eyes.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that the sound of the fountain pen dropping to the wooden table startled him, his dark sapphire eyes blinking rapidly as he brought his gaze quickly back down to the notebook he had been happy to ignore.

“There.”

You slumped back in your chair, shaking out your hand, a grin on your lips. You actually did it and the pride in your accomplishment hung on the curve of your smile. Standing just as suddenly as you let the pen fall, you shoved back your chair and walked around the table to set yourself down next to Carlo. “Let me show you.”

His notebook disappeared into his pocket and he leaned in to where you began explaining the play and the scenes you chose. You spoke quickly, excitedly, as if making up for all the previous silence.

“This scene is where they meet, the handsome, adventurous sailor and the innocent mermaid…..” You went on to explain their instant connection, the fascination they have with one another. But their relationship is dangerous, forbidden by their differences, and when the sailor tries to tell the mermaid they shouldn’t see each other anymore, she responds with a desperate kiss, one of the most romantic, most famous kisses in any drama throughout the lands.

When you got to this part, he noticed the way you paused, lifting your gaze to meet his and suddenly you were both imagining the same thing: kissing the other person.

Your gaze dropped to his lips, tracing their shape. He has such a beautiful mouth….He found himself wondering if your lips would feel as soft as they looked. The moment stretched out, the only sounds in the room the knocking of your heart against your breastbone, the audible inhale and shaky exhale of Carlo’s breath.

And then the doors to the library swung open, scattering the moment like sand in a violent breeze.

“There ya are. I’ve been lookin’ all over for you.” Silvio sauntered in, shaking his head, golden earrings swinging with the movement. “You’re still my aide, ya know, Carlo. I ain’t got all night to wait while you two practice your little show.” He stopped walking, taking in the blush spreading across your cheeks and the way Carlo had immediately shoved his chair away from yours. Blue eyes snapped from you to him like taunt sails in the wind and then a slow, wicked smile claimed the prince’s handsome face.

“Looks like I'm interrupted somethin’.”

You sprang to your feet, dipping into a quick curtsy.

“Prince Silvio. We were just going over the edits to the play I made.”

Silvio cocked his head, moonlight-colored hair falling to one side as he continued to grin. “Yeah I saw.” He paused, considering his next words. “Well I hate to break up ya’ little rehearsal or whatever but I need my man here.”

Carlo nodded, brushing down the front of his shirt. “Of course, your Highness.” He turned to you, not meeting your gaze as he pointed to the papers on the table. “May I borrow these in preparation for tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you answered, the words coming out a touch too fast, stumbling on each other’s heels. “I remember which lines I transcribed. I can study them from the original.”

Amusement has Silvio’s eyes gleaming like coins in the sunlight. The sardonic curve of his mouth told you both how much he was looking forward to whatever happened tomorrow. He turned on his heel, jewelry jangling and snapped his fingers as he strode out of the library, but whether the motion was a signal for Carlo to hurry up or simply a sign of his glee at the situation he had forced you into was unclear.

Carlo started after him, holding the papers you painstakingly wrote carefully to his chest. Suddenly he stopped mid-step, turning to look your way one last time. Your eyes locked and then he gave you a quick bow.

“Until tomorrow.” He glanced up quickly, and then in a softer tone, added your name to the thought. The sound of it coming from his lips, rounded by that accent, sent a flare of warmth from your stomach up through your face. Every nerve in your body felt incandescent and alive. You managed to incline your head in return, hoping he didn’t notice the flush you knew was rolling across your skin.

When the library door closed behind him, you found your legs too shaky to support your weight and you sank back down into the wooden chair, drawing in several deep breaths.

How did I get here, you wondered, hand pressed against your midsection as if calming the tornado of butterflies that had taken residence within.

And what am I going to do?

Today:

Carlo is a marvel. Never would you have expected the quiet, seemingly shy attendant to step out from behind the red velvet curtains and become the witty, bold sailor who enchants the mermaid princess. He strides across the stage, a new man, shoulders wide as if challenging the world to even try and burden them. Sometimes, as he delivers his lines, you recognize shades of Silvio in the lilt of his voice, the swagger in his movements. Carlo mirrors the Benitoite prince as he brazenly proclaims his love for you, swearing to fight the seven seas themselves if it means he is allowed to be yours. He makes it easy, so very easy, to slip into your role as the lovestruck siren, completely taken by this man, wondering if she could risk everything to be with him.

You’ve arrived at the turning point of the play, the moment when the mermaid princess has had enough of denying her feelings and makes the decision to follow her heart. How does she do this? By interrupting a passionate rant, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and yanking him towards her, stopping the flow of words with a kiss.

Carlo is pacing, his lines flying from his lips, memorized with the same perfection he uses to calculate wind rates and ship speeds. His hands, glinting with golden rings under the bright stage lighting, are as active as his mouth, punctuating his words with gestures, emphasizing his embattled state of being in love and never wanting to wonder what could have been.

And then it feels like a dream, like you really are swimming underwater as you cross the stage to where he is standing, roughly gathering the soft white cloth of his tunic in both hands. You pull him to you, leaning up to press your lips against his.

The ocean roars in your ears the moment they touch. The stage, the gathered audience of royals and nobles, the cavernous ballroom where the performance is taking place, the dazzling stage lights. All of it is swept away, like the sea raking its fingernails over the shore and pulling sand along with it. All you know now is the shape of his mouth as it fits against yours, the feel of his arms as they wrap around you and pull you tightly against the safeguard of his body. It is both electrifyingly new and astonishingly familiar, as if your body already knows something your mind doesn't. His lips part and he seeks entrance to your mouth, brazen as the wind when it plucks at a ship’s sails, snapping them to and fro. There is no resistance. You yield, softening in his arms, relinquishing your hold on his shirt to run your hands down his sides, around his body, palms pressing possessively against the small of his back. You are sinking, down, down, into the taste of his mouth, the heat of his embrace. Still waters run not only deep but hot, full of unexpected fervor and heart-stirring excitement.

You have no idea how long you kissed, the time it takes a wave to caress the shore once, twice, fifty times. What you do know is when you finally break apart, the audience is motionless, breathless, hanging on the edge of their seats, and in Carlo’s midnight gaze you see truth, burning like the fire of a thousand stars.

In the front row, arms loosely crossed, Silvio Ricci smiles slowly. Knowingly. His instincts had been right and he practically glows with the satisfaction of it all. Benitoite will likely be seeing much more of the Rhodolite ambassador. Che bello.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri carlo #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfiction #1k first kiss celebration #violettwrites

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silentmoths · 1 year

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As Fragile as a Brick wall

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I realized if i didnt get this chapter out soon, ya'll probably wouldnt be getting one till like, june. tears of the kingdom drops on friday boissss

Chapter 8: ding dong, sneznhaya calling

Zhongli x Afab (fem pronoun) Reader

NSFW elements in later chapters

Multi-chapter, Royal AU, angst, mentions of death, eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

(Wonderful header image made by the wonderful @ainescribe)

The unfortunate part about agreeing to help Zhongli with this was…well, helping Zhongli.

In the weeks leading up to the arrival of their Ambassador, you had to give Zhongli a crash course in how to impress a Sneznhayan. The northernmost kingdom was often seen as icy and distant, but once you got to know their customs, it was not as difficult as one would think.

However, despite your help, he still insisted you spend the next few weeks resting in your chambers, recovering from your broken rib, which meant it was you and he, stuck in very close quarters as you explain every little detail. You had spent plenty of time in the land of snow in the years he had been gone, after all, you had been set to marry their prince…which is why they were now upset with Zhongli.

“So what was the prince like, anyway?” He asks you one day as you go over things again with him, you wince.

“Ugh Ajax?” you grumble “I mean…he’s alright? He’s not actually the Tsaritsa’s kid…apparently she could never conceive, so she adopted him.”

Zhongli raises an eyebrow as he looks up from his paperwork “Truly? I’m sure there’s some sort of loophole we could exploit there…” “Don’t try.” You warn him “She loves Ajax more than life itself. It’ll just make more problems.”

Zhongli hums, leaning his head against this hand as he watches you.

“Did you like Ajax?” He asks after a moment.

“Like I said, he’s alright…but he…I dunno…there’s something about him that always kinda freaked me out?”

“Oh? Do explain.” Zhongli presses, watching as your brow furrows.

“It’s… hard to explain I guess.” you start with a sigh “Sometimes he’s great…he’s funny, smart…a genuinely cool person to hang out with…I would consider him a friend.”

Zhongli notes the conflicted look upon your face, and the way you fall silent as you consider you next words, he finds himself invested, what on earth was wrong with the prince of the snow to cause his own little love such confusion?

“Sometimes it’s like…a switch would flick in him.” You eventually manage out after several long minutes of trying to figure out the right words. “So…Ajax has always been interested in combat, he’s a member of the royal guard as well as being the prince….right?”

Zhongli nods, not entirely unheard of…hell, the king had once spoken to Zhongli about the potential of his sons, her brothers, joining the guard…an idea Zhongli had quickly discouraged because…to be honest, they wouldn’t have survived a day.

“No one will spar against him.”

“I mean, he’s the prince-” Zhongli adds.

“No you don’t understand, Zhongli. It’s not that no one will fight him because of his status…it’s because those foolish enough to fight him…don't usually come out in one piece…literally.”

At first, He thinks she’s joking, but he can see it in her eyes, that… haunted look, and he finds himself invested.

“Like I said…it’s a switch…the moment combat happens… he goes from this sweet, kinda goofy guy to… the only words I have for it is… bloodthirsty monster” you sigh.

“Hm…he seems a rather… interesting character…”

“That’s a word for it.” You huff.

“And what of this Ambassador? Do you happen to know him?”

At this, you perk up a little “Yes actually! I’ve met him a couple of times… he’s one of the funny ones that goes by a weird name.” “You mean like the captain of the guard is literally called Capitano?” Zhongli snorts, you nod.

“Yep, just like that.” you sigh “His name is Pantalone- Don’t you start!”

“Start what?” Zhongli snickers, receiving a pillow to the face “His name is pants-”

“ I know!” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose “I know his name is pants.”

Sometimes…

Sometimes you found Zhongli’s presence a little less frustrating than you used to

—-

“Um…your highness-” Zhongli mutters from beside you.

“I see him.” you grunt; already feeling a vein ready to pop in your head “I thought you said they were sending the Ambassador”

“They said they were”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, already you were very tired of today. Sure your rib had been healed for several weeks, but it had been a very long time since you’d had to dress up this fancily… and you’d even broken out the formalwear the Tsaritsa had tailored for you upon your first visit to them.

“So why then…am I seeing the prince…and his happy gaggle of men…approaching the castle?” you ask, your voice is terse and thin, this was not what was meant to happen, even Zhongli looks absolutely and utterly confused.

“You know him better than I do…” Zhongli sighs, also looking equally as uncomfortable. For all the king he was, it was not often that he had to dress so regally, even you knew he was far more used to chainmail and plate, not heavy, ornate suits.

“Is it to late to back out-”

“Absolutely.”

”Damn.” you sigh, this was about to get…*uncomfortable*

You find yourself standing beside the throne: on Zhongli’s right, as the throne room doors burst open. In the corner of your eye you see both Zhongli’s grip on the arms of the throne tighten, and Xiao, stationed to his left, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword as your ex-fiance bounds into the room like an unruly child.

There is a moment where all is still, as if time stops as his eyes land on you.

And in the next moment, he’s sprinting towards the throne, manic look upon his boyish features. You see Zhongli poise to stand, Xiao taking hold of his sword properly, and then you’re engulfed by strong, and unfortunately familiar arms as Ajax laughs warmly.

This was what you were afraid of.

The prince lifts you from your feet and twirls you like you weigh nothing, as you spin, you spy Ganyu, by the doors, her eyes wide in shock at his display.

“My little krolik!” Ajax laughs as he finally ceases the godawful spinning and sets you down, his eyes are bright and his smile is wide as he looks you up and down. “It’s so good to see you again!”

You don't see it, but you can feel the absolute fury radiating off of Zhongli when Ajax leans in to do exactly what you knew he’d do next, and you thankfully, shift your head in time. He kisses you, thanks to your quick movement, it’s only on the corner of your mouth, before he continues kissing affectionately up your cheek and to your forehead.

If it wasn't for the fact you were trying to pry this idiot prince off you, you probably would have found this situation funny, but there was no room for ruining Zhongli’s day here.

“Ajax…I wasn’t expecting you.” You finally manage to huff out as you push the overly affectionate prince away, but he simply grins, totally uncaring that he’s not yet introduced himself to the King, right beside him. “We were told Ambassador Pantalone-”

“Oh! Yeah as soon as I heard ol’ Pants was being sent here I immediately took over! I wanted to see you again my darling krolik!” Ajax interjects “I wanted to make sure you were alright!”

“Ajax.” you sigh, shaking your head, you knew he was impulsive but this? This was something else entirely. “I know I left in a hurry last time but have you no faith in my abilities?”

“Ahem…” Xiao is the one to finally save you with his well timed, if not violently forced cough, snapping the prince’s attention away from you and to Zhongli, who is raising a none-too-impressed eyebrow at the boy.

“Oh, Right! Heya!”

Heya… this idiot has just come all the way from his home country as the representative…and he greets the king with a heya.

You’re sure the sound of your palm making contact with your face echoes loudly throughout the throne room.

—-

You are thankful that after such a long trip, dinner and sleep is the only thing on Ajax and his men’s minds, you personally escort Ajax to his room and bid him goodnight, if only to know he would no longer bother you. Considering he’d all but attached himself to your arm the entire day, just like he did every time you had been to Sneznhaya since being promised to him.

You did your best to keep him from saying anything… inflammatory in front of Zhongli, you didn't want a war breaking out, but goddamn you also did not want to be here.

Even if watching Zhongli’s eye twitch every time Ajax got affectionate with you was somewhat entertaining.

In order to return to your own chambers from the guest wing, you find yourself shambling past the king’s study…you didn’t even notice the lantern lit inside, until you hear your name called from within.

Zhongli sits, at his desk, a bottle of a fine looking, amber coloured liquid in his hand. As you poke your head inside, he grabs not one, but two glasses.

Honestly after the day you’d had? You don't question it, entering silently and shutting the door behind you before you drop, ungraciously, into the chair on the opposite side of the desk, with enough force that the pile of paperwork set upon the mahogany and gold tabletop shudders.

It’s silent, as Zhongli sets down both glasses and pours the whiskey, there is silence as you take your glass.

There is silence as he raises his own and clinks it against yours and there is silence as you both throw back the drinks.

”That is a prince!?” Zhongli howls as he slams down his glass, the paperwork gives another shudder.

”Excuse you.” you grunt ”that. Is my ex-fiance!”

Zhongli snorts at the exact moment you crack a small grin, he motions for you to hold out your glass again as he refills his own. You share another shot in silence.

“He is aware that he is an ex, yes?” He asks, you shrug.

“He should! I mean…even his mother knows…”

“Is he stupid?”

You look over your glass at Zhongli, raising a single eyebrow.

He pours you another glass as an apology for a stupid question.

“If you are as smart a man as I remember, you will have more of this on hand.” you eventually mumble as you turn the amber liquid around in your glass “we’re going to need it.”

Zhongli scoffs at you.

“This is the youngest of my collection.”

“By the time this is over, we’ll need the vintage.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

#Silentmothwrites #moth is not silent #Moths fragile as a brick wall #Zhongli genshin #Zhongli x reader

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mermaidchansons · 1 year

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Warm Colors: Chapter 6

SugarDaddy!M’Baku x Oshun(reader)

Summary: M’Baku has a future-determining meeting whilst Oshun reveals secrets to a friend.

Words: 2800+

Warnings: None

A/N: YERRRRRRRRR! Hi, lol thanks for reading!

Translations: irhamncwa (monster), inkosikazi (wife), umntakwethu (brother)

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Chapter 6:

Jabariland

A familiar icy wind brushed against M’Baku’s arms as he trekked to his throne room for a meeting with the Jabari council; Lady Ifechi and Akunna; heads of two of the Jabari’s eldest families. This meeting was one that had weighed heavy on his mind. When he first met you, he never had any intentions to let it draw out this far; to allow your courtship to gain meaning. Yet, as time wore on, he found that when he left you behind in the Americas, he had left a piece of himself with you. To feel as if something was missing in his homeland was a foreign notion. He chided himself at the idea of it, a sense of betrayal to his people creeping up his back. But there was no shaking this warmth that you had stirred within him. You had done what countless women had failed to achieve in the past. Capturing the Great Gorilla’s heart and mind was a feat that you accomplished gracefully. Now, he had to approach the council with this fact.

Hanging birch logs illuminated by lights greeted M’Baku as he entered the throne room. Jabari warriors nodded their heads toward him as he passed. He sunk down into his masterfully crafted throne and assumed his usual widened position. M’Bele, one of his most trusted friends, soon took his place beside him as the council funneled into the room.

“Thank you all for meeting on such short notice. I have made a decision regarding Ochuko’s treason and treachery. Banishment seems a worthy punishment,” M’Baku declared.

“You would let this irhamncwa live after he injured one of our people and attempted to kill many others in your absence?” Lady Ifechi had been beside herself ever since M’Baku formed an alliance with King T’Challa. She didn’t approve of the time he spent away from Jabariland as an ambassador for a king who only ‘welcomed the Jabari in when they needed our help’ she’d said.

“I will not send him to the ancestors before his time. It is their decision when he has served his purpose on this plane. Akunna?”

“Though trying as it might have been to witness a betrayal on our own land,” Akunna uttered, shutting his eyes at the thought of what could have been. “Taking a Jabari life would not sit well with our people.”

“So it is settled. Ochuko will live the remainder of his days past the borderlands of Wakanda. I have already spoken with the Border tribe leader and he will put him to work. In my future absences, M’Bele will step in as second in command,” M’Baku noted.

Ifechi nodded in agreement knowing that she was outnumbered. When it came to the safety of his people, it was hard for anyone to speak against him. Though he was revered as their leader and chief, the council would always contribute to the finality of each decision; which only made him all the more apprehensive. Puffing out his chest, M’Baku gathered himself in preparation.

“Before we end, I have a proposition of sorts. I have spent too long guiding our people with no one by my side. I would like to take on an inkosikazi.”

“Lord M’Baku, what a wonderful sentiment. Our people need a chieftess and now is the perfect time to do it. To produce heirs to lead the Jabari. Glory to Hanuman.” Lady Ifechi waxed poetically, as she had been waiting for him to bring this up for quite some time. Though never to his face, she never failed to ‘mention’ M’Baku’s need for a wife and that he wasn’t getting any younger.

“Glory to Hanuman,” the room erupted.

“One of our fisherman’s daughters, Imani, is of age. She would make a great chieftess,” Akunna informed the council.

“I’m sure Imani is beautiful but I’ve already found someone. While I’ve been away, I have been courting a black American woman and I wish to take her as my wife.”

M’Baku watched as the smiles dropped around him. His brows furrowed as he watched Ifechi and Akunna's faces contort with disapproval.

“I’m sorry but I must vote against this request. Black Americans have brought no good to this country. Look what happened when they let a child without a tribe sit on the throne in the Golden City,” Lady Ifechi reproached.

“Council, if I may, Lord M’Baku has given so much to us as a people. He has always had our best interest at hand. He has led us in battle and in life. M’Baku sacrificed his pride so that he could provide for our people. I beg’o, when will enough be enough? How much more will you have him sacrifice?”

M’Bele’s query to the council was met with silence. Rarely did he talk out of turn but he knew what needed to be said at this moment. M’Baku quietly thanked him for his words and returned his attention to his council. Tightening his fingers around his staff, he watched Ifechi and Akunna gather their answers.

“We cannot allow it. We must learn from the Golden Tribe’s mistakes. The border tribe has still yet to recover their forces. The general’s own husband taking up a sword against her over a black American with no past and no future. Is this what you wish for our people?” Akunna’s question echoed in the room and M’Baku sat defeated. How could the council ask him to choose between his heart and his people? He simply grunted in response and the council took it as his answer. They knew what kind of leader he was. His people would always come first, even if it meant sacrificing his happiness.

“It is resolved. If you want a good wife and a chieftess for our people, we will find one here. One of our own,” Lady Ifechi says before leaving the throne room, with Akunna in tow.

Disappointment swelled in M’Baku’s chest. This answer was the one he expected but not the one he hoped for. The Jabari had come so far in their joining of the other tribes. He himself sat on the elder council in The Golden City and provided efforts to ensure the future of all the tribes represented there. And yet it was not enough for some Jabari. Just as he had refused the need for technological advancements in the past, some of his people hesitated in walking into this new future of acceptance. His council included.

M’Baku rose from his throne and rolled his shoulders back, trying to elude the building grief within him. He turned to face M’Bele and placed his hand on the warrior’s armored shoulder.

“I will be gone for a week, please ensure that no mischief arises. Though you are in command, try not to imbibe on the job,” he joked half-heartedly. M’Bele chuckled but saw through his friend’s need to lighten the unfortunate situation.

“My comfort for you, umntakwethu. I know you care for this woman deeply.” M’Bele bowed his head in shared sadness and M’Baku patted his shoulder once more.

“Unfortunately, it is much more than that. I thank you for your words of comfort, my friend. I must go prepare for my trip.”

The Ritz Carlton, Los Angeles

Megan was rolling pieces of prosciutto for the charcuterie board while you and her chatted. You groaned, standing on your toes to grab three wine glasses from the cabinet. You, Megan, and Shellee had planned a girls' night to catch up but Shellee was late as usual. Being an entrepreneur with singular control over 3 luxury nail salon locations couldn’t be easy and you knew that. But you couldn’t ignore that it was taking a toll on your friendship with her. Check-ins were sparse even during your two-month ‘break’ from sugaring. And in the times that she did call, she was hard to talk to. She was overly critical about your choices in life and was iffy at best when it came to pursuing art. Your situation had afforded you all this freedom and Shelle was always busy. You simply chalked it up to being a product of adulthood and tried not to dwell on it too much.

“So when’s M’Baku coming back? Is everything alright between y’all?”

“Things are good. We revised our contract. He’s coming back tomorrow night and then we’re leaving for a week,” you answered, walking over to the living room and placing the glasses next to a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

“Not you getting flewed out right after punishment sex. Where’s sugar daddy taking you this time?”

You smiled as the butterflies in your tummy stirred at the thought of going away with M’Baku again. It had been a while and you couldn’t wait to make up for the lost time. Megan watched as you melted and you both erupted in giggles.

“I’m not really sure, Meg,” you beamed, placing a few pillows on the floor, “when we first made our little agreement, he asked me to make a list of places I wanted to visit. He just chooses from there.”

“That’s cute as hell. He must really like you, O.” Shrugging your shoulders, you helped her bring the food over to the coffee table.

“I don’t know about alladat. He’s just fulfilling his end of the deal.”

“Oh please,” Megan dismissed your minimization. “It’s giving Pretty Woman.”

A knock at the door interrupted you and Megan’s gushing session. Standing, you pulled your pajama shirt down and sighed.

“Okay, don’t mention you know who when she comes in. You already know what she be on,” you warned before heading to open the door.

2 Hours and a Few Drinks Later

Shellee had brought a few pre-rolls to relax with you and Meg and it didn’t take long for the stress of the day to escape her. All three of you ate, laughed, and drank. And for a moment, through the haze of smoke and champagne bubbles, it felt like old times.

You leaned your back against the newly clean couch and gave into the heaviness of your eyelids. Flashbacks of why the sofa needed to be cleaned came with each blink. His hands squeezing and kneading your hips and thighs; the gushing noises your body made every time he stroked in and out of you; his deep, rough voice singing your praises in your ear. Both your mind and your body ached for him. Getting lost in your thoughts was far too easy when it came to him.

“It’s so nice to finally be with y’all. This place is gorgeous, Oshun,” Shellee complimented, raising her glass to you. Her compliment drove you back to the present and you clasped your legs together in an attempt to distinguish the fire M’Baku continued to set even in his absence.

“It really is gorgeous, which is why I’ve been meaning to ask; can I use your loft while you’re gone?” Both you and Shellee looked at Megan in confusion.

“Meg, you have a whole ass apartment and a man,” you chuckled, “why you wanna stay here?”

“Wait, you’re leaving somewhere, O?”

“Her man is taking her on a trip, she won’t know where till tomorrow,” Megan spilled before taking another puff of the indica pre-roll. You hit her stomach and Megan coughed wildly, realizing what she had just said.

“You have a whole boyfriend, and you didn’t tell me,” Shellee questioned. Both you and Megan looked at each other and back at Shellee.

“Not exactly. It’s more of a situationship.”

“A situationship and he’s flying you out places? Nah, be fucking foreal. You got this new loft, and new clothes, you handed me silk pajamas when I walked in. What is going on, O?” You sat with Shellee’s inquiry for a moment to gather your thoughts and took a long drag from your blunt. If she really wanted to know, you’d tell her.

“You remember when Meg and I went to DC like 5 months ago? I met someone that weekend and we hit it off. But he doesn’t have the freedom to have a normal relationship so we made a sugaring contract that works for both of us and-,” you were cut off by the sound of Shellee chuckling. Your face dropped and you rolled your eyes at her.

“Why are you laughing, Shellee? You asked her to tell you,” Megan said, coming to your defense.

“I’m sorry, I just... I thought you were smarter than this, O?”

“Smarter than what? You always so damn judgemental,” you scoffed.

“Oshun, what do you know about this man, really? What does he do for work? Where does he live full-time? Who is he around when you’re not with him?” You leaned back into your pillows, looking down into your glass. You couldn’t answer any of her questions.

“You don’t even know anything about him. You can’t honestly think that this is going to last. I hope you’re at least saving whatever allowance he’s giving you. Maybe then you can actually do something with your life instead of scribbling and being some man’s pet.” Her words shot through you and blinked wildly at her.

“Oh, so I’m a pet now? This is exactly why I don’t be telling you shit. Excuse me if I don’t have my master's in business or manage multiple locations. Not everyone wants to live your #girlboss life, damn,” you shut your eyes and took a deep breath, trying your best to keep calm.

“And what, being easily expendable is better? This can’t be all that you really want, O. What do YOU want?”

“I want him! I want to paint and fuck and be happy with him and be able to breathe in this claustrophobic, capitalistic, bullshit-ass country. Is that so bad,” you yelled back, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. Shellee immediately regretted her words as soon as she saw you cry. She knew she could be harsh but seeing you visibly hurt was eye-opening.

“Shells, let’s just table it for now,” Megan muttered while rubbing your shoulders and telling you to take a couple of deep breaths.

All the previous comfort had been sucked out of the room like a vacuum. What started out as a relaxing girls' night quickly went left and Shellee knew she had caused this. It wouldn’t be the first time her words had brought down the vibe. You thought you’d be used to it by now. But seeing your position with M’Baku through Shellee’s perspective took her over the edge. It was too much for you to bear.

“Listen, I just want more for her. I’ve sugared in the past, I know how this ends. He got me through undergrad and right as I began to fall in love with him, I found out he had a whole wife and kids. He supported me for 3 and a half years and fell for him like a fool. Not realizing I was just the hired help,” Shellee sighed. She tucked a loose loc behind her ear and wiped a sole tear from her cheek.

“I know I can’t stop you from making your own decisions. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come at you like that. But just be careful. Try not to fall in love just because he’s showering you with lofts and trips. He could take it away at any time.”

“Too late,” you chimed.

“M’Baku wouldn’t do that, Shells. I’ve seen the way he looks at O. It’s not just a contract like they say it is. Even if it took til now for Oshun to admit it.” Megan had pointed out your lackluster confession and you groaned in despair.

“So everybody knows about this M’Baku except for me? The fuck is-” You and Megan’s pointed glares made her stop talking and she put her hands up in defeat. Shellee would just have to meet M’Baku at a later date. She grabbed your free hand and rubbed her thumb across your knuckles.

“I love you, O. And if this is what you want, I’ll support you. Regardless of the outcome, I’ll be here,” Shellee said before placing a kiss on your cheek. You silently thanked her and leaned into your two friend’s embrace.

“So can I show Shellee the painting that you did of M’Baku? He really is fine as hell, you gotta let me show her.” Megan’s request disrupted your group hug and shook your head in disapproval, chuckling.

“Oh my god, Meg. Be serious for once!”

“Nah, if he’s as fine as she says he is, I’ma need to see. To the painting!” Shellee and Megan ‘wooed’ as they left your embrace to go to your painting room. You shook your head and laughed at your friends’ antics. A chime drew your attention to the phone sitting in your lap. Unlocking your phone, you saw a new text from M’Baku.

I cannot wait to see you tomorrow. Time away from you is never easy - M

I can’t wait to see you either. - O

Taglist: @great-neckpectations @babybluepeaches @muse-of-mbaku @melaninmarvel @ashanti-notthesinger @naturallyqueenie @howtoshuckatlife @tgigoldie @archivistofwakanda @alexundefined @minyara-kun @destinio1 @siriuslycollinss @raysunshine78 @madamslayyy @notdsg @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @greennightspider @bitchacho25 @elaindeereads @whatthefuckbilly143 @jordanhelah @puremolasses @ajspencer1892 @wakanda4everinthisbitch @monochrome-pineapple @psuedo4 @bubblyqueen @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @tchallasbabymama @bellabiachi

#m’baku imagine #m’baku x plussize!reader #m’baku x reader #m’baku x black!reader #sugardaddy!m’baku #sugar daddy fanfic #black panther fic #bpwf #black panther #wakanda forever #black panther wakanda forever #winston duke

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perplexedflower · 1 year

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Love On The Rocks - Chapter 4: Bloody Mary

Fandom: Supernatural.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Crowley x Female Reader.

Type: 5-chapter fanfiction.

Summary: Being the King of Hell has its ups, but it also has its downs. And these downs lead Crowley straight into a bar, where he finds something far greater than just a glass of whisky: the love of its bartender, a young woman who is oblivious to the demon's nature. But one evening, he does not show up at the bar at his usual time, and his newfound love finds herself exposed unwillingly to everything that has been hiding under her nose this whole time…

Chronology: Season 10.

~~~~~~~~~~

When I regained consciousness, the very first thing I felt was pain. That pain, in the back of my head, which was still as strong as when I had first felt it. I opened my eyes with difficulty and discomfort, and when I did so, I instantly noticed I was no longer at the Ambassador Hotel. I was no longer with Crowley, either. In fact, I was all alone. I forced myself to open my eyes more, even though it hurt me, and my blurry vision eventually came to stabilize: once it did, I looked around me and at my surroundings, and my first interrogation was obviously to wonder where exactly I was. The room was very dimly lit and seemed to be quite old, almost as if the place had long been abandoned. It was dark, but lit enough for me to see it was empty, not furnished in any way, aside from the sole decoration present: myself. But I knew well it was not: I looked down at the ground beneath me and although the concrete floor was dusty, clear footprints were visible here and there, trailing a path from where I was to deeper into the room.

Only then, by looking down at the ground did I realize my feet were not touching the floor: I swiftly looked up at the ceiling and saw my arms were hanging above my head, with my wrists tied together in a knot with a rope attached to a beam high above my head. I started to move my arms with all my strength, in hopes of loosening the knot, weakening the rope, or even breaking the beam, but to no avail. I exhaled a shaky sigh as I let my head drop.

Just as I closed my eyes, I suddenly heard the sound of metal slowly creaking, which I then understood to belong to a door opening when I heard it close a few seconds later; I opened my eyes back and looked in front of me, only to see multiple pairs of footsteps emerge from the shadows and walk toward me. I looked at the group of men standing in front of me, I looked at their faces, one by one, and instantly recognized them all: no doubt, these were the men who had broken down the front door of Crowley's penthouse suite back at the hotel. The men who had kidnapped me and dragged me all the way into this dank shack.

I stared down at them, right in the eyes, and it made my blood run cold to see that none of them expressed emotions of any kind. The only one of them who did let his emotions show was the one standing the closest to me, and who, by his aura alone, I assumed to be the leader at the head of the group; a twisted smile was shaping his lips in a way that made my skin crawl.

"Would you look at that, the little worm has finally awoken..." He spoke in a voice that sounded as wicked as he looked.

The man took a step forward and looked up at me while he tilted his head.

"D'you sleep well?"

He stared into my eyes intensely, and although my mind was overflowing with questions, I could not bring myself to talk and ask him any of them: I was paralyzed by fear, by his gaze, and did not dare speak. After he understood I would not answer him, he shook his head while he took a step backward.

"You're not much of a talker, eh? Well, it doesn't matter. We didn't capture you to make conversation."

Seeing him begin to walk away from me, all the questions stored in my brain grew louder, and in fear of not being given the opportunity to ask any of them, I felt a sudden rush of bravery flow through me.

"Who the fuck are you guys?" I asked loudly. "And why did you capture me? What do you want from me?"

Upon hearing my questions, the man stopped walking and scoffed with his back turned to me: when he turned back around to face me, the same twisted smile was still visible.

"Who are we?" He repeated with a very slight hint of curiosity. "Now that's an odd question coming from you. I would've expected your precious little boyfriend to have told you aaaall about us already."

I listened to him replying to my question ominously, but instead of finding answers, I found myself even more at a loss and felt confused, not understanding what he was talking about.

"After all, Crowley's had it coming for a while, now..." He added as he looked up at the ceiling and rubbed his hands together.

Hearing him mention his name made me even more confused, but also even more frightened.

"C-Crowley?"

The man and I stared at each other for a few seconds, until I furrowed my eyebrows slightly.

"... It was you freaks who attacked him back at the hotel, wasn't it? The ones who jumped him and riddled him with bullets?"

He closed his eyes and scoffed while he smiled; a self-satisfied smile, as if he was enjoying hearing me talk about what they had done to him.

"Of course, who else?" He said as he opened his eyes back and opened his arms widely.

"Why didn't you psychopaths just finish him off while you were at it?!" I shouted with unfiltered anger, not hiding from them or myself how much resentment I felt toward them. "Why did you have to leave him there to rot?!"

The man smiled further, seeming to take pleasure in my hatred as he slowly made his way in front of me.

"Because, my little worm..."

He stopped walking once he had arrived face-to-face with me, then reached for my face with one of his hands: very delicately, he rested his ice-cold palm against my left cheek, which sent shivers down my spine.

"... It's all part of the plan." He finished in a slow whisper, as cold as his touch.

He let go of my cheek in a way much less delicate than the one with which he had grabbed it, pushing my head back and making me grunt in pain. He began to slowly walk in circles around me, his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the room.

"Oh, believe me, we could've ended him back there. And believe me when I say we really wanted to."

He kept on pacing around me, but was now looking straight at me.

"But you..." He started while he slowly shook his head and opened his hands at me. "You're the perfect pawn in this game. You're the best thing we could've hoped for."

He came to a stop in front of me and I stared down into his soulless eyes.

"The little worm at the end of the hook... The bait."

Hearing his last word, I gulped out of instinct: a voice inside my head told me such a word was never a good sign.

"Heh, after all, why simply kill Crowley in cold blood when we can inflict so much more pain on him in the process?" He said with a chuckle. "So much more pain, that goes even beyond the physical plane..."

The longer I heard him speak, the more terrified I became, but not for myself: for Crowley. But I did not dare speak a word, so I simply listened to him talk in silence.

"First, keep a close watch on Crowley, and track his movements to know exactly where he's headed at any time." He declared as he raised his right index finger. "Second, launch a surprise attack on him as he's alone and injure him. Not enough to kill him, but leaving him wounded enough for him to have to resort to asking for the help of the human female who's unfortunate enough to have captured his heart."

I felt confused to see and hear him bluntly tell me what his plan was, but what was even weirder to me was why he would feel the need to point out that I was a 'human female'.

"Third, wait for her to get to the hotel and to help him out with his little Devil's Traps situation."

Upon hearing these words, I could not help but furrow my eyebrows in confusion, wondering what he was referring to: but I was too focused on registering what he was telling me, so I set my interrogations aside.

"And that's when the fun really starts." He said as he slowly nodded while his lips twisted into a perverted smile. "After she's finished rescuing her prince, snatch her away from him. Make him watch in helplessness as she's being dragged away from him. And hide her away... long enough for him to start realizing this is all his fault, that he was the one to have called for her help... and that she's now a dead woman walking because of him."

Uncontrollably, I began to feel tears form in my eyes: this man was heartless, he had set his mind on destroying Crowley from the inside, on an emotional level, and he was using me to do so. And there was nothing I could do about it.

"And after you've cast the line, what does that leave you with? Someone who's too attached, and now additionally too guilty to let go, to give up on her."

The man took a few slow steps in front of me, after which he stopped and furrowed his eyebrows in an overly dramatic way.

"Crowley has grown too fond of you now. He won't stand back and wait for us to return you back to him."

He approached his face even closer to mine, and at that instant, as I was forced to stare at him, his inhumanly stern face made me shiver.

"He will come for you. And that's when the big fish will bite. That's when we'll lure him to fall right into our meticulously-planned trap... when he'll finally be ours."

The tears I had felt take form were now slowly rolling down my face, which did not escape the eye of the man, who delicately cupped my cheeks before he wiped them off with his thumbs, all while he shushed me in a voice that was meant to sound soft, but which made my soul ache instead.

"Oh, my dear... You're already so touched, but I haven't told you about the grand finale yet."

He marked a pause, during which he removed his hands from my cheeks, which allowed me to turn my head away from him and close my eyes.

"After all is said and done, we'll bring him here and we'll set him down. And we'll make him watch as we slit your throat right before his eyes."

I opened my eyes wide as my tears grew unstoppable.

"And then... we'll move on to his throat. But before that, before we put him out of his misery, we'll give him some time. Some more time to think about how this is all his fault... how your death is on him... and how he'll never get to see the end of your pathetic romcom."

I listened to his words, yet refused to accept them; but deep down, I knew he was right. I knew his plan was flawless, and that he was the master of this game: and I was nothing but the pawn, unwillingly helping him achieve his sick, twisted goal.

A heavy silence then filled the space around us. From my side of the room, the only noise I could hear was my shaky breath. The other men present were quiet, as quiet as they had been since they had first stepped inside; the only sound that came crashing against the deadly silence was that of the man swiftly turning around, before he walked a few steps away from me, after which he dived his hands into his pockets, then looked down at the ground.

"You asked us earlier why we captured you, and what we want from you."

I heard him speak in a tone of voice that I had not heard from him yet: a tone of voice so grave, so serious that it made me hold my breath.

"You're going to help us make Crowley suffer. For what he did to Abaddon."

Another silence followed. The man's words held such emotion, such importance, which made me believe they had been said with the intent to have an impact on me: and yet, they did not affect me in any way.

"... Who?" I finally asked after having caught my breath.

The man looked up and turned his head to me, before he shook it slowly as he scoffed.

"Don't play dumb with me." He said with a low chuckle.

"I'm not." I instantly fired back. "I have no idea what you're talking about, how am I supposed to know who that is? I understand you hold a grudge against Crowley, for... whatever he did to that Abaddon. But he's never mentioned that name to me before."

The expression on his face shifted drastically. His eyes were wide open, his eyebrows had risen, and his smile had vanished, replaced with a slightly open mouth.

"... The name 'Dean Winchester' ring any bell to you?" He slowly asked me, as slowly as he walked toward me.

I felt confused as to why he was asking me this question, and shook my head with a sigh.

"No. Look, I told you-"

"What about the First Blade?" He added without having left me time to finish.

Anger started to grow and accumulate inside of me the longer this guy asked me questions I knew nothing about.

"No! I told you, I don't know what or who you're talking about!"

The man's surprised expression went up a notch as he took a short step backward.

"... Wow..." He whispered as an excited smile slowly took shape on his face. "Now that is a plot twist."

He turned behind him to look at the other men, one by one, who exchanged a few glances with one another. Then, he turned back around to face me and stared right into my eyes with what I could have sworn to be pity.

"... Crowley hasn't told you anything, has he?"

He made his way back toward me, and the pity in his eyes progressively turned into enjoyment.

"About us, about himself, about what he is...?"

He stopped just a few inches away from my face and scoffed almost inaudibly.

"... You don't know that he's a demon."

At that instant, he lost all credibility: this man was not a psychopath or a lunatic, he was just a Satanist who probably did not even know Crowley all that well and who had decided to label him with the term 'demon' the second he had started to hold a grudge against him.

"Yeah, right." I spoke with a scoff I could not help but let out.

"You think this is a joke?"

The man seemed somewhat offended, but he did not scare me anymore.

"There's no such thing as demons."

To that, all the men present in the room chuckled in unison: and as their combined laughter surrounded me, I saw the man in front of me blink slowly to reveal a pair of empty, black eyes.

"Is that so?"

I gasped in utter shock at the sight. This whole time, his eyes had seemed soulless to me, but now, more than ever, I was convinced it was not just an impression.

"T-That's... N-No..."

"Yes..." He whispered while he shook his head very lightly. "Just look around you..."

The thing standing before me took a step to the side and opened his arm wide in front of me: across all corners of the room, the men standing silent had all taken on the same black eyes, and they were all staring right at me, like a void ready to consume me whole. Not daring to look into their eyes for too long, I lowered my gaze to the ground.

"Y-You're... You're all demons?"

"Bingo." I heard him answer me without looking at him.

I silently stared to the side, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.

"... And you're saying... that Crowley is also one?"

"Yes. But he's not just any demon. He's the King of Hell."

The demon's heavy, resentment-filled words made me open my eyes swiftly and gasp once more, then I gulped before I looked up at him; his eyes were no longer black, but I could still sense a void of emptiness inside of him.

"And you, my little worm..." He started as he reached for my face. "... Are going to help us snatch the crown from his head."

He slowly traced my jawline with his fingers, after which he tilted his head.

"Speaking of which, we have to carry on with the preparations. I'd love to tell you aaaall about the Abaddon-Crowley drama, but our trap isn't gonna make itself."

With that, he retracted his hand and turned his back to me.

"What a pity, you'll die without even knowing the full story." He told me as he started to walk away from me.

He made his way out of the room, followed closely by the other demons, still as silent, still as heartless, then the door creaked once more. And I was left all alone.

The atmosphere in the room became heavy and I started to find it hard to breathe.

This isn't possible, it can't be, it's just-

The muscles of my arms were starting to feel tired, and I could sense the pain increasing within them, but I was too overwhelmed by my thoughts to pay much mind to it all.

T-This fucker was lying, demons don't exist, they can't exist...

I closed my eyes for a split second, and in this short amount of time, a memory of Crowley overlapped with the darkness: he was sitting at his usual seat at the Golden Cross, behind the counter, smiling tenderly at me.

No, no... I refuse to believe it...

But as I closed my eyes once more, for longer this time, the memory was shortly followed by another: the time we had spent together at the Ambassador Hotel, during which I took care of him in such a bizarre way, by carefully carving bullets out of his flesh. And recalling this moment made me open my eyes back slowly.

But... if Crowley was to be a-... a demon, then... it would explain why he was so calm back at the hotel, even when he should have been on the brink of death.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I tried to look in front of me through my blurry vision.

... And it would explain why his phone number is '666'... I suppose.

I sniffled before I exhaled a deep breath.

But... Who's Abaddon? Who's Dean Winchester? What the fuck is the 'First Blade'?

I felt anger and confusion boil inside of me, until it rose all the way up to the surface.

"God, I don't understand anything!"

Without having meant it, I spoke aloud, surprising even myself; hearing my anger flow out made me focus on trying to remain calm, and so I did a series of breathing exercises, until I felt better. But my thoughts were still as loud, and had no intention to quiet down.

Wait... If the men who have kidnapped me are demons, and so is Crowley, then why are they trying to kill each other? Shouldn't they be united as a... species?

And that was when I realized.

... They are trying to kill each other... They're on opposite sides.

My tears came to dry as I looked down at the ground.

Crowley may be a demon, the King of Hell even, but... he's never hurt me. He's never had evil intentions toward me.

I looked back up and straight in front of me with a hint of resentment in my eyes.

And what that demon told me is proof of it.

The animosity in my eyes slowly died out as it was replaced with bittersweet love.

... Crowley loves me. He truly has fallen for me, and he didn't mean for any of this to happen. He didn't mean to put me in danger because of some demon-on-demon business.

At that instant, I wished he could have been in front of me, so I could have told him that I forgave him, for everything, and that his nature did not alter the feelings I had for him; I smiled faintly to myself as I closed my eyes and imagined him standing before me. But in the dark, I suddenly heard a creaking. A creaking that had by then become way too familiar to me. I opened my eyes and watched the leader of the demons walk back into the room, but this time, he was only accompanied by two other demons.

"You'll be delighted to know Crowley is drawing near, my little worm." He said as he adjusted the sleeves of his jacket. "But you see, the problem with traps is that they can sometimes drag on."

He marked a pause, during which he turned around and sent a look to one of the two other demons, along with a sign of the head, gestured in my direction: to this order, the demon walked past his boss and up to me with determination.

"... Some of my boys are getting impatient." The leader stated sternly.

The quiet demon was now standing in front of me, a twisted smile on his face, which I could only interpret as excitement on his part.

"So, I told them they could have some fun and lash out at you until the big fish gets caught."

He had barely finished speaking when I suddenly felt a hard fist throw my face to the side, making me shout in the process; but before I could even start to register the pain, the strong hand that had just hit me grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and made me look back in front of me, into the demon's manic eyes, before he punched me one more time.

"Hey!"

Although everything was a blur to me, I still heard the leader's voice call out to the demon.

"Go easy on the face!" He ordered him as his voice echoed throughout the room. "Break whichever part of her body you want, but mind the face. I want Crowley to be able to recognize that precious little mug of hers when he watches her die."

I closed my eyes with pain as a single tear escaped my eye.

"There's no fun in completely destroying her if he's not there yet."

My eyes were forced open by the demon standing in front of me, who had stopped hitting me while his boss had been talking, but who was now getting back to it: one after the other, he landed brutal blows to my upper body, making me scream and groan repeatedly. I felt as though my ribcage was in pieces, and my stomach felt like it was going to implode. The pain was unbearable, and all I could do was yell. Let it all out. Throw at the world everything that had been building up inside of me up until this very moment, in the form of agonized screams.

But even my screams were quieted down: the longer the pain lasted, the more I endured, the less energy I had to fight back. My neck grew too weak to support my head, which fell slightly backward and to the right side. My eyelids felt heavy, but I fought back against the urge to close my eyes: because only a few feet away from me was the monster that had made my life a living hell. And I was ready to stare him down with the last of my strength if that was the last thing I would have ever done.

It's all over...

I stared into his eyes with burning hatred, and those soulless black eyes stared back at me. I felt my flames die out, but refused to look away: and that was when his gaze suddenly looked away from mine, when I saw him swiftly turn his head around. His unexpected movement instantly woke up a part of me, as though some of my batteries had been slightly recharged, and I found in myself the physical strength to straighten my head, only to see the door of the room open wide in a single swing. And out of it came barging in two tall men, led by a shorter one, standing proudly before them in a suit and tie. A suit and tie I could have recognized over any other.

Crowley?

I wanted to call out his name, but my vocal cords were too weak to even make a sound, and all I could do instead was stare down at him with a broken expression. For a short second, I felt as though his eyes had met with mine, but my head was spinning too fast for me to be certain; things began to blur again in front of me, and the only things that managed to somewhat keep my head out of the water were the occasional grunts and physical sounds of fighting I could hear. But eventually, it all went silent again. And my brain could no longer resist: I closed my eyes as I faintly heard the sound of heels quickly walking the floor, before feeling as though my body had grown lighter. And I let out a sigh as I felt myself being wrapped in a tight pair of warm arms, along with the strong aroma of a cologne.

#crowley #crowley x reader #crowley x you #crowley fanfiction #crowley fanfictions #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfictions #spn #female reader #love on the rocks #chapter 4 #perplexedflower

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princess-ibri · 2 years

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Frozen 3/Series overview

Found this bullet list I'd made when forming my ideas and thought I'd put it here to better explain the overall ideas in one post :)

Overview of Full Series

Would go back and forth in the first season between Elsa learning about her powers/history of family/the old 5th Spirit, Anna and Kristoff planning wedding and dealing with own identity crisis, and Hans doing his heist movie and slow building Redemption Arc. Second Season would begin with Hans and and Karin, crashing Anna's wedding, and them trying to decide if they can trust him and trying to stop Voland as his plan begins to finally come together

Hans--Looking for power, gets a Redemption arc. Given gloves by Voland. Sent to get Lantern to trap fire spirit

Karen--Vain young woman who loves to dance, ends up getting teamed up with Hans and feelings happen between them. Given red shoes by Voland. Sent to get Sack to trap the wind spirit

Bruni--salamander who's caught by Hans but ends up also befriending him--not Fire Spirit Avatar but linked

Skyggen--Sinister man dressed all in Black, given watch to freeze water by Voland. Sent to find the silver bridle to trap the water spirit.

Inge--Sadistic woman, oldest follower of Voland, given necklace by Voland, sent to get bell to control earth spirits

The Old Soldier/Voland--Demon trapped in human form by a previous 5th Spirit, looking to undo this spell by trapping the 4 spirits and using them to unlock the Mirror that holds his power. Has three vicious, large dogs besides his 4 bound henchmen. Dogs called: Fenrir, Garm, and Skoll

Elsa-- learning what it means to be 5th Spirit, interacting with the 4 spirits. Learning more of her Northuldra culture from Yelana and Honeymaren, and about her predecessor(s).

Anna-- Getting the hang of being Queen, planning her wedding with Kristoff, learning more of her Northuldra heritage. Missing Elsa, trying to figure out what it means to be part of the "Bridge" between people and magic

Kristoff-- Planning his wedding with Anna, beginning to worry about living as a royal, trying to find his human family/we learn more about Troll culture. Hanging out with Ryder, showing him the real world.

Olaf--being Olaf x)

Mattias--Anna's new personal guard/father figure, helping reintegration efforts for the Arendellean soldiers that were trapped so long, as well as building his relationship with Halima

Halima-- mother figure for Anna, very practical and keeps a cool head in a crisis

Yelana--teaching Elsa about her heritage and the past of the previous 5th Spirit (may have been related to her)

Honeymaren/Hunaja Mari--helping Elsa explore her heritage and the Enchanted Forest, training to be Shaman

Ryder/Rydi--visiting Arendelle as ambassador, wants to learn about the outside world, hanging out with Kristoff giving sometimes good sometimes bad advice, teaches Anna some of her heritage (his reindeer Bel is also hanging out with Sven)

The Nokk/Vand--the water spirit, can take form of man playing a fiddle, becomes Elsa's main spirit guide

(Credit to @im-fairly-whitty for Vand)

Dovregubben--Earth spirit, king of rock giants (Kristoff's trolls are part of this element)

Tuuletar--Wind Spirit, real name of Gale (beautiful female form made of leaves)

Norrsken -- Fire spirit, eldest salamander, flame reflects the Northern Lights

If you like this please check out my #Frozen 3 tag to see what everyone looks like and get more info!

#disney #frozen 3 #frozen #frozen 2 #elsa of arendelle #elsa frozen #elsa and anna #anna frozen #hans westergaard #hans frozen #kristoff frozen #anna x kristoff #honeymaren #ryder #frozen ocs #disney ocs #my ocs #hans christian andersen #the snow queen

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creepyalienghost · 1 year

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Fights I wanna see

The ambassador v 682

106 v Sammy Lawrence

Freddy v circus baby

Freddy v glamrock Freddy

The ambassador v bendy the demon

Glitchtrap v Ben drowned.

Vanny v Sammy Lawrence

035 v Vanny

Glitchtrap v the Hanged king

Six v the marionette

Bonnie v Monty

Roxy v foxy

Foxy v mangle

Roxy v mangle

Joey Drew V William Afton

Bright x Joey Drew

457 v 054

The hanged king v the chain man

049-2 v demogorgan

Brenner v bright

Eleven v 035

The ambassador v Vecna

#fnaf #stranger things #little nightmares #scp fandom #five nights at freddy's #batim #alagadda scp

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asklordrubedo · 8 months

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Sfw ABC's of getting to know the characters!

A is for attitude (what is this lords attitude most like)

Flirtatious, friendly, sometimes a smart ass, and forgetful

B is for babies (does this lord like babies)

If they're my own, which I doubt will ever happen, then yes.

C is for clothes (fav to least fav)

I prefer clothes that are comfortable yet stylish, and dislike clothes that often make me feel... like I could care less

D is for distractions (easily distracted by)

Friends, family, and music!

E is for entertainment (fav to least fav)

Music and musicals, theatre, clowns and mimes

F is for food (fav to least fav)

Salmon prepared in most ways, meatloaf

G is for giddy (how happy is this lord)

Usually I consider myself to be relatively happy!

H is for hunger (how hungry are they usually)

Ah, I am often hungry, but forget to eat

I is for interests (what interests this lord the most)

Most forms of artistic creativity

J is for jealous (how jealous do they get)

Will become petty to the person I'm jealous of.

K is for king (how do they feel about the hanged king of alagadda)

... I'd rather not talk about that...

L is for love (who do they love the most to least)

Well, I would have to say friends @wulverarctos and family the most, and ignorant belligerent people the most.

M is for mean (how mean are they)

It depends on how much I like you

N is for negotiate (how do they try to get what they want)

Offering something that I know the other person would want in exchange.

O is for obey (how well do they obey the hanged king)

... don't worry about it

P is for pretty (how pretty is this lord)

I would say on a scale of 1 to 10, I sit at a solid 7.5

Q is for quarrel (how often does this lord argue with others)

I try to avoid conflict it's just not in my nature

R is for Rival (who is this lords biggest rival

The ambassador of alagadda, the hanged king, and the one who assisted in creating me

S is for sweet tooth (how often does this lord crave sweets)

Pretty frequently!

T is for Traits (what is this lords favorite traits physically or otherwise about themselves)

My get up and go attitude!

V is for vacation (if this lord could go on vacation, where would they go)

Mm, probably Italy

W is for winter (does this lord like winter)

I admire its beauty... but that's it

X is for x-Ray (what does this lords body look like [humanoid, insect, animal, etc])

I am very humanoid most of the time. However, I do tend to have moments of being closer to human than anything else.

Y is for yammer (how talkative is this lord)

I can be very talkative if it's a topic I adore

Z is for zoom (how fast does this lord walk)

I'm actually relatively slow.

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ratingdrita · 2 years

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Xray vision glasses game

Xray vision glasses game how to#

Xray vision glasses game skin#

Xray vision glasses game professional#

He's either hit two pair, if there's a 9 under there too, or a pair of Aces. What do you see? Can you make out the cards? I can. This is a good time for x-ray spectacles. You suspect that you're still high, so you bet with your pair of Jacks. The King gets a suited 4, the 9 gets an unsuited Ace, and you get a 6. Everyone else, including the bring-in, folds to your raise. Your raise is called by first the King (a very loose, passive player) and then the 9 (a tight/aggressive player like yourself – but one you haven't played with very often). There are a couple of lower denomination cards in between them. The players to your left have, in order, a King a Queen and a 9. You're seen as a relatively tight player – certainly not wild. The bring in, to your immediate right, brings in the betting for the mandatory $5 in this $20/40 game. You have a split pair of Jacks with a 7 kicker. In a way, it will be like donning x-ray glasses. In these examples you can find some of the tools that can help you figure out what your opponent has. I'll present one in this column and then another in my next. Let's look at a couple of examples of situations that often present themselves at the stud table. There are, however, card-reading skills that a good stud player can develop that can have a similar effect. (Though I suppose that there are cheating devices that almost do this with a combination of daub and color tinted lenses – but I digress). Of course, there are no such things as x-ray glasses that can unveil your opponents' down cards. How cool would that be – to have real x-ray glasses? There were the obvious salacious possibilities – but there were also the more profitable ones that would arise at the poker table.

Xray vision glasses game how to#

And, frankly, my grandfather (who taught me how to play poker) also taught me to be skeptical of ads. I was too tight with my money back then to be seduced into sending off the requisite $1.95 for the specs. Just the sort of image to excite the imagination of an impressionable 12-year old. His tongue was hanging out and he was drooling. You remember the ad, don't you? It was a picture of this guy wearing lightly shaded glasses and staring at a woman who clearly appeared to him to be naked. I remember as a kid seeing ads in the back of comic books for x-ray glasses.

Xray vision glasses game professional#

Professional Poker Players & Ambassadors.

Items hidden on the travelers from Google Poly: (CC-BY) Fish, Crawfish, Lighter, Hand Grenade, Bomb, Knife, Crayon, Butterfly, Coin, Hamster, Earthworm, Snake, Grasshopper, Nunchucks, Rubber Duck. Music: Improbable by Kevin MacLeod () CC-BY 3.0 Tools: Unity, Blender, Gimp, Substance Painter

Xray vision glasses game skin#

Note: The humans in this game are procedurally generated and entirely random in skin color and gender spectrum, and entirely independent of who is in possession of prohibited items. On the other hand, don't arrest the wrong passengers - you'll be fired after 3 false arrests. If the threat level maxes out, then all is lost. Keep the threat level low by arresting passengers who are in possession of prohibited items. Survive a week on the job of a security agent in the year 2025. Themes are: Change of Perspective and Hidden Secrets respectively, so I made a game where you find hidden things (prohibited items) using something that changes your perspective (x-ray glasses). Made in ~60 hours for GDL February 2018 Jam and FigJam. Use your x-ray glasses to check under the passengers' clothing for prohibited items at a strange concourse of the airport.

#Xray vision glasses game

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fuzedatti · 1 year

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XV. Kul-Manas Cycle

───── ❝ 𝐀𝐧 𝐒𝐂𝐏 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 ❞ ─────

Masterlist

──────────────────

—This door has marked my destiny for millennia, without this door, my work here would lack of purpose.– Hands caressed the damaged wood in front of him. —So many years of research are stored behind this piece of wood.–

The blonde watched the french from a safe distance, admiring the gate. They had made a short trip to England to meet again with the said portal.

—The last time I was here, I was captured along with Dýo; Bright tried to persuade the King and his court, but as you yourself said, we immortals have no power against eternals.

—But you're not an immortal, are you?

—No, at least not before.

The door was opened by the doctor who immediately entered when he saw the brightness hit his mask. His clothing was now restored and striking; Clef wore an arachnid-like mask, with a heavy yellow cloak draped over his back.

—You blend in pretty well,– Clef said. —It is because you are already from here.

—Was it a lie when you said you had come here to discover my past?–

—A truth and a half if I make myself clear.– He cleared his throat. —I did not enter here, I have contacts in this directory of dimensions.–

As they walked, the Alaggada natives laughed and enjoyed their hedonistic lifestyle, chatting about trivial things in different languages. The couple arrived at a point a little far from the city to talk without being heard by others.

—Drama lovers,– Louis said, watching the natives whisper about their hiding place. —They see something out of place and start spreading rumors like a plague.–

Louis's disgust captivated Clef, who was able to assume his scowl under his mask. He gave a small laugh to continue his talk.

—So tell me, what exactly do you have to do with this place?

The doctor looked at him out of the corner of his eye to answer. —I'm what you might call a messenger, someone who communicated royalty between realms.–

Clef approached him dangerously, using the same tactic from yesterday to intimidate him a bit. —You know what I mean, "Louis", if that's what your real name is.–

—My name is what it is, why would I change it?– He replied. —Unless you mean who was in another life.

—Yes that's what I mean.

—I must clarify that I am not Kul-Manas, rather, I am a reinterpretation of what he once was.

—My sources weren't wrong then.– He chuckled. —What happened to him?–

Louis paused for a moment to make sure no one was listening. —The Black Lord killed him.–

Clef was not surprised.

—I have no recollection of his life; Emotions at most, but concrete memories... I'm afraid not.

—Are you his reincarnation?

—Hmm...–Louis thought. —Your concept of human reincarnation is not compatible with mine.–

—So...?

—I wasn't born after his death, in fact, I was already a grown man when it happened.

Louis grabbed Clef's wrist to signal for him to follow. They passed through some busy corridors, the shifting bricks scraping against the silk clothes made a distinctive sound. As they walked, Louis continued his tale.

—I used to be an ordinary man, a doctor who lived his life in a quiet way.– His voice didn't change in tone even as they maneuvered their way through the crowd. —What constituted my humanity was replaced by the Kul-Manas state of being.–

They stopped at a crowded place, right in front of the non-Euclidean palace. The creatures around it were swarming each other trying to get into it, bumping into the clientele lining up at the props and food stalls. Clef was about to ask what was going on when he felt his body being pulled by inhuman strength and almost crashing against the wall of a narrow alley; But his impact was muffled by Louis's torso, who was looking intently at the crack that gave way to the crowd.

The creatures made space in a line, revealing a royal palanquin. Four beings carried the huge ornate sticks that supported the boxes of what seemed to be made of pure gold. It was more than thirty feet high, and almost half a mile long, full of jewels and statues reminiscent of Baroque architecture. It was not possible to see inside the well-covered boxes, but it was more than clear who they were to them.

—There they are...– Clef whispered.

The doctor separated their bodies to move behind the palanquin and enter the palace. The noise of the jewels and chains was deafening, while the crowd cheered and cried with joy when they saw their sovereigns. The pair got behind one of the creatures carrying the carriage, but Alto nearly screamed as he watched Bright's reanimated corpse to be the carrier of the heavy structure.

His mummified body was falling apart, the little humanity Clef had left was destroyed seeing his old friend like that. A single tear rolled down his cheek before being stopped by Louis.

—Stop moving forward.

He didn't realized the moment they were inside the castle, always changing shape. The doors slammed shut behind them and silence reigned for the next few seconds. The curtains parted to reveal the Emperor of Alaggada and his faithful companion. They looked bigger than he remembered, and he could feel Clef's dread growing. Both eternals positioned themselves in their respective places, each one creating an echo of chains and strings that got stronger every moment.

—I know you're there.

The Ambassador's voice rearranged all of Clef's thoughts in milliseconds, taking his breath away as he was quickly dragged towards the emperor's feet, leaving him kneeling against his will.

—Kul-Manas,– the King remitted. —You were here recently.–

—You call me by a name that does not correspond to me, my lord.

—And you give me a title that is no longer yours to say.– He answered. —Where is the Black Lord?–

—He lies on Olympus, my King, with the jewel of whom they made a lackey.– He turned to see Bright's body, about to be crushed by the palanquin. —Listen to my words carefully, I have no intention of repeating them.–

—Go ahead, I'm looking forward to it.

The Ambassador's silence worried Louis, who advanced towards the thrones at Clef's side. The raven removed his mask, ignoring all law within Alaggada, revealing his scar. The King tilted his head and approached him, creating a grotesque sound between the rope and his neck.

—All of you are ill.– He said looking coldly where the King's eyes should go. —You have the same disease as me, caused by the Black Lord, you are cursed.–

The Hanged King straightened up again and turned to see the Ambassador, who still didn't say a word.

—Your King and the Ambassador are not ill.– The King corrected. —But our Lords, I fear that they are not more than ephemeral.–

The King released Clef from his trance and tied a thousand ropes to his body, each one squeezing his weakest points and leaving him on the verge of death. A piercing scream was torn from his throat as he felt them slowly press against him. Louis flinched at the threat, not showing his concern.

—Now... Kul-Manas... what are your demands?

—Take me and Alto Clef to Olympus, and we will return with the corpse of the Black Lord so that the other Lords can heal.– His wound had begun to bleed, letting out that black blood run down his face and letting out some groans of pain. The King twisted a bit. —Do it or I break the cycle of Kul-Manas!–

The moment he said that, he released Clef, letting him fall to the ground with a crash. The other Lords arrived upon hearing the scandal, each with a scar similar to Nicephore's, bleeding and dying with it.

—You have become intelligent, Kul-Manas. You've earned yourself a deal.

The King twisted to reveal a million-fanged fauses and expel an acid-like liquid to the ground, which turned into a golden dust as bright as the sun itself.

—God's blodd,– Said the Yellow Lord. —Vaporized for trade on the metaphysical black market.–

The White Lord wept into the Red Lord's shoulder in pain, both bleeding from their masks just as Dýo used to.

—Just leave, kill the Black Lord and come back with his mask,– The Hanged King ordered.

—At your command, my majesty.

#olympus scp #scp #scp 035 x scp 049 #scp 049 x scp 035 #scp 035 #scp 049 #scp 2264 #the hanged king #the ambassador of alagadda #alagadda #the yellow lord #the red lord #the white lord #the four lords of alagadda #scp fanfiction #scp fanfic #kul manas #herald of kul manas

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drakesmed3 · 2 years

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Loewe Handbags At Neiman Marcus

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