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barbiedragon · 4 months

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Viper Queen

Pairing: Viserys III Targaryen x Martell!reader (GOT)

WC: 1.3k

12 Days of Smuff-Bed Sharing & Accidental Stimulation

Warnings: Rough sex, mild spanking, cream pie

You spend in a stormy in bed with your betrothed

A violent storm rolled through the night you were meant to depart Pentos to return home to Dorne. Black skies and bursts of bright lightning filled the air, along with the boom of thunder.

“You should spend the night, princess. Allow us to keep you safe until morning,” Magister Illyrio insisted.

You gave a gracious nod and cast a look in Prince Viserys’s direction. A smirk curled across his lips, silver strands of hair had fallen across his violet eyes. “I will accept most graciously, Illyrio. I do not wish to risk my life or that of my company.”

Daenerys gave a soft smile, the young lady grasping at your hand. Such a sweet summer child, on the threshold of her flowering as her betrothal to Khal Drogo grew closer at hand.

“You shall bed with me, Princess!” she declared giddily.

“You’re most gracious, little princess,” you smiled. You would be happy to entertain her notions, but you intended to share a bed with Viserys.

Martells and Targaryens shared a history of marriage since King Daeron II married Myriah Martell, while his sister, Daenerys, married Myriah’s brother, Prince Maron. Maron had created the lush water gardens as a gift to her, and it was your favorite place to spend time when the weather grew hot. It was through these marriage alliances that peace was found, uniting Doren with the Westeros. Your Aunt Elia had been married to Viserys’s elder brother, Rhaegar, and now your father, Doran, sought to have you betrothed to Viserys. Dorne held no love for King Robert or the traitors who helped place him in power. The brutality of what happened to Elia and her children would never be forgotten. It was your hope and the desire of your family to remove Robert from the Iron Throne and place the rightful heir, Viserys, in his place.

Daenyers sat between your legs while you gently combed out her hair until it shone like molten silver. You had grown fond of her during your visit, shielding her from Viserys’s rage. You were under no illusions that he would be an ideal husband, but you would not be the first Dornish woman to take a man in hand. The day he struck you would be his last, and you were determined to teach him better ways to channel his rage. The memory of his mad king father loomed, and the kingdom would not tolerate another.

“Do lemon trees grow in Dorne?” Daenerys asked.

“The land is filled with lemon and orange trees. The air is fragrant with them,” you replied, helping her change into a soft, silk gown to sleep in. It was lavender and a gift you had bestowed upon her. Your ladies would usually help you prepare for bed, but you allowed them to retire for the evening and were more than capable of tending to yourself.

“I smell lemons in my dreams,” she smiled up at you before you kissed the tip of her nose. She seemed so young, yet she would be old enough to marry soon.

The young princess nuzzled close in your embrace, and you waited until she was heavy with slumber before crawling out of the bed and wiggling your feet into golden slippers. The bright flashes of lightning illuminated your way to Viserys’s room. Gently, you pushed the door open, making your way inside. A simple pair of linen breeches clung below his slender waist, but he wore no tunic. His pale skin seemed iridescent, and his hair shimmered like moonlight. You stepped out of the slippers before crawling into the bed with him. Azure silk clung to your curves as your hail fell down your shoulders in dark, thick waves. Your fingers ghosted across his exposed flesh as you drank in his beauty, imagining the future babes you would give him. Who would they favor?

You curved your body next to his, your backside pressing against his groin before wiggling tantalizingly against him. You heard a soft groan before his arm snaked around your waist. His hand plunged under the top of your nightgown before grasping your breast, one thumb grazing across your pebbled nipple.

“I thought I might be dreaming, but I can feel how warm your flesh is,” he whispered in your ear as he rutted against the curve of your ass.

“I assure you that this is very real,” you purred, heat gathering between your legs. “I wish for you to fuck me.” They were lewd words, but you did not tiptoe around your desires, especially not with your future husband.

His hand released your breast before tightening around your throat before his other hand swatted your arse. “Hmmm, remind me, what are the words of House Martell?”

“Unbowed, unbent, and unbroken.”

“Will you bow to me, princess? When you are my queen, will you bend the knee to me?”

His slender fingers flexed against your throat.

“As any loyal queen and wife would,” you replied simply.

“Submit to me, show me where your loyalties lie,” he hissed.

You swallowed down the amused chuckle forming in your throat. You understood the game to be played. The truth was, you enjoyed it. You were hardly a delicate princess frightened by roughness. Once his hand unfurled from your neck, you shifted onto your hands and knees before slowly inching the bottom of your gown up around your hips. You parted your legs to show him the arousal gathered between your thighs. His hands gripped your plush arse, kneading the chilled flesh until it turned warm again. Heat pooled in your belly as the storm continued to rage outside. You mewled as his palm struck your skin repeatedly, a sweet sting blossoming across your pebbled flesh.

You could hardly bear the desire building inside as you lifted your hips more to meet his harsh slaps while your fingers slipped between your wet folds. You were able to get one satisfying rut against them before Viserys pulled your hand away then pinned both arms behind your back.

“Do not dare touch what is mine,” he growled with a sharp snap of his teeth.

“Apologies,” you murmured, cheek pressed against the bed as he held you down.

“Address me properly,” he hissed.

“Apologies, my King,” you purred.

You heard the soft rustle of clothing before the head of his cock pressed against your wet cunt. Viserys grunted as he slowly sunk inside you. You moaned, loving the feeling of being stuffed with him. He seemed to fit perfectly. His hips snapped against your abused flesh, each thrust deep and hitting a sweet spot inside of you that made your thighs shake. His cock stretched you wide as a wet squelch filled the room illuminated by lightning. He released the tight grip he had on your arms, allowing you to push onto your hands and rock against him. The walls of your cunt fluttered around him before clenching.

A loud boom of thunder echoed in the black sky as pleasure burst inside you. You trembled through your peak, soaking Viserys’s cock as his fingers tangled in your thick hair.

A deep groan fell from Viserys’s lips as he snapped his hips against you, and you were certain he filled you with his spend. A warm trickle coated your inner thighs once he slipped out, using the sheet to wipe himself clean. A satisfied, prideful smile decorated his face.

“I believe I will be most pleased with our union.”

You offered a sweet smile as you stood, making your way over to the basin to clean yourself—another task you’d have to train him in. A husband should attend to his wife.

“Keep my bed warm,” he hummed, extending a hand toward you.

You took hold of him, allowing him to draw you close. He was not perfect, but you could help mold him. To help usher in a strong Targaryen-Martell alliance. Mayhaps you could even convince him to break Daenerys’s betrothal and allow her to live in King’s Landing once he claimed his throne. Your ambition to rule ran deep in your veins, and to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms ignited a spark deep inside you. For now, you gave into the sweet cocoon of slumber as you rested in Viserys’s arms.

#fae's writings #viserys iii #viserys iii x reader #got fanfiction #got smut #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones smut #viserys iii targaryen #viserys iii x fem!reader #viserys iii targaryen x reader #viserys iii targaryen x fem!reader #Martell reader #harry lloyd #12 days of smuff

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wallflowerglitter · 2 years

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I wish I could find the bracelet I made in Girl Scouts. And remember the exact colors of the beaded bracelets I bought my mom when I was a kid that broke all over my aunt’s couch. I wish I could be 100% positive of the color of the cotton candy I had in my moms car on the way back from the fair. I wish I had kept my fuzzy butterfly throw pillow. I wish my aunt hadn’t painted the playhouse my Grampa built for me gray and then got married in front of it to the guy that tried to groom me. I wish my goose berry bushes were still there. I wish my favorite tree didn’t fall down in a thunderstorm. I wish when I go to visit my grandparents it was at their house I grew up in and not at the cemetery. I wish I never had to say goodbye to them. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew how to breathe. I wish I knew how to fix everything. I wish I knew the color of the yellow nail polish my mom bought me that Halloween I dressed up as Belle. I wish I could swing and swing and it would take me back in time. I wish I remembered the shades of my gramma’s ugly watermelon lipsticks. I wish I had thought to color match her like I did my mom. I wish I had that iridescent sea foam fabric paint I used to make a macaroni picture for my dad. I wish climbing to the top of my monkey bars made me feel safe the way it used to. I wish I knew what happened to my lucky rock with the golden shamrock. I wish they made ballet slippers exactly like the ones they always used to buy me for adults. I wish I didn’t have the mug I gave my Gramma a few months ago for Mother’s Day on my vanity barely used. I wish I still took naps in my grandparent’s bed before dinner. I wish I still had my childhood jewelry box and not just the ballerina inside it. I wish my purple toy chest with the sliding doors in my childhood closet that I like to crawl in and block out the world and just think and sometimes fall asleep in didn’t fall off the back of my Grampa’s truck when we moved before the second grade. I wish I could remember the green sandals I begged my dad to get me with the plastic dangly gems on them better. I wish I could climb trees and spy on people the way I used to because I was an overwhelmed mentally I’ll child that wanted to be a part of things but from a distance. I wish I could still put on my leggings and daisy tank top and silver/purple butterfly heels whenever I went over to the neighbor’s reunion parties. I wish my bedsheets still had conversation hearts and my curtains still had angels on them. I wish I could wander the woods of my childhood without worrying about ticks. I wish I could go back to the days when Skylar and I would make snow angels in the plastic house at preschool and just lay there and stare for ages. I wish I could go on field trips every time there was a play at the school my mom was going to and she would come and sit with me. I wish I remembered the games they had at the school library computer room. I wish we had assembly every morning before school and sang songs like we did before I moved and everything changed. I wish I was nicer to the boy that invited me to play with him on the first day of kindergarten and became my boyfriend for the next two years and wrote me letters after I moved and ghosted him. I wish I wasn’t so callous and careless with his heart. I wish I remembered my best friend Britney’s last name and the last four digits of Bethany’s house number. I wish Caylee and I still hung out and talked the way we used to instead of feeling miles away. I miss fighting with Garret and jumping on Alex and Jack’s trampoline and beating everyone at super smash with Kirby. I miss long walks talking with Nick and skating at the winter sports park. I miss trying not to get stung by bees picking raspberries by my Grandma’s garage and pretending the pink rose petals in the garden had magic powers with Marlee like the princess and the goblin. I miss the gum ball machine necklace Casey gave me that I wore until it broke. I miss the bead kits I used to be able to get at the dollar store. I miss my Barbie nightgown and my yellow coat.

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mcklunkers · 3 years

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Welcome to day 8 of non-consecutive random Star Wars shitposty headcanons!

Today’s trash post is as follows:

-Fox is called Fox because stress made his hair start to grey and he’s a silver fox.

-Shaak Ti definitely did not linger around the gym while Alpha-17 was working out, absolutely not that would be completely unprofessional no matter how fine that man is.

-Sabine Wren has an untraceable art blog that she regularly posts on. She always has super in depth art conversations with one of her followers, sometimes talking to them for hours about a recent piece and it’s inspirations. She often wonders how the mysterious Mitth’raw’nuruodo is doing when she works on a new piece.

-Thrawn unironically likes ponchos. He started wearing them to mock Krennics stupid cape, but found he loved them. Eli hates ponchos, but can’t fault them on his boss.

-Luke’s poncho is Qui-Gons, he left it at Shmi’s after taking Ani so she’d remember her son was with safe people. Luke found it in a box and it called to him so he wore it.

-Count Dooku wears socks in bed as well as those old man slipper-shoe hybrids.

-The clones only get to wear pyjamas on shore leave and they abuse that privilege by wearing pyjamas everywhere. Gym? Pyjamas. Mess hall? Pyjamas. Shop? Pyjamas. They’re totally colour coded to their armor aswell.

-Older clones stay in the barracks with shinies after their first missions so they can talk about it to someone who’ll listen. Sometimes it’s just overly excited retelling of their batch’s heroics, but sometimes they lose someone and they need to talk it out, or even just get a hug. And that’s what the older clones do.

-Ahsoka and Obi-Wan once found a bunch of Padme’s clothes in the back of Anakin’s closet while he was in a Bacta tank. They wanted to make sure he had comfy clothes when he came out. One of Ahsoka’s biggest regrets is that they didn’t confront him about them. They thought he’d come to them, and maybe if they had just started the conversation none of it would’ve happened.

-ARC-Troopers take sparring too seriously and are only allowed to spar with eachother or captains/commanders that have had the same training. This leads to Jesse and Rex working out together a lot. Fives and Echo used to ask Bly and Wolffe so they’d have a challenge. It did not end well.

-The medics are the best drinkers. Whether clone or Jedi, the medics drink an ungodly amount more than the best of the regular soldiers. The only non medics that come close are Obi-Wan (because he’s got a high tolerance) and Wolffe (he spent a lot of time with Kix learning) and even then only just.

-Cal Kestis used to copy Obi-Wan when he was younger because he was the only other ginger Jedi he knew. Obi-Wan noticed that and when on missions with Jaro Tapal would always sit near and talk with little Cal because he knew he’d grow up to be a great Jedi.

-Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume had at least one class together and hit it off, becoming the little terrors of their padawan year.

-Zebs eyes are like a cat and get super big when he’s excited or happy. The ghost crew learnt this when Kallus arrived and cooked food from Lira San.

Enjoy lads 😁

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silverwoodj · 3 years

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Chapter 17 is finally live and extra long for all of you lovely readers who have patiently waited! Read more for a sneak peek <3

"Hermione, I do not believe you are being quite honest with me." Periwinkle blue eyes twinkled at her over half-moon spectacles. "Beetle tart?"

"No, thank you." Hermione wrinkled her nose at the tarts squirming within the headmaster's proffered bowl and pushed down her frustration as she played with the edge of her outer Hogwarts robe. "Forgive me, Uncle, but how does my knowledge have anything to do with regaining my memories?"

It was all she could do to hide the fact she did remember some things, after a fashion. Endless facts and spells, as though recalled from a textbook. And the knowledge sprung upon her at the most inopportune moments. Not only during classes but inconsequential moments, like tea time with her new guardian.

As before, Albus wore a whimsical smile as his preferred mask. Setting down his cup, he spread his palms in a gesture. "No matter your past, it is important that you make new memories, is it not? Just as it is important that we appear nothing less than a loving Uncle and his devoted niece, yes? And every time you recall facts you have no doubt pulled from your past, the better chance we have of spelling back the layers guarding your mind."

Hermione glared at the cup between her hands. "I know you're right. I know it's better to have moments, with you than my housemates..." She drew in a sharp breath and her grasp on the porcelain tightened.

"And still you wonder how your cursed mind will be able to reconcile this new life you have been gifted?"

Hermione flinched at the oft-thought but never spoken fear.

How does he know?

The reason she avoided making new friends among her house and classmates. The reason she'd taken to roaming the grounds or halls with only ghosts and the knowledge in her faulty brain for company. It was enough reason for Hermione to do her best to avoid the Marauders beyond classes and the occasional visit to the Head Boy and Girl common room.

Though it's been nearly impossible to avoid James.

Unable to avoid the weight of her uncle's gaze any longer, Hermione slowly lifted her chin and said, "For not being able to use magic on my cursed head, you have a talent for reading my mind."

The twinkle faded from his eyes as his smile softened. "Hermione, much as it pains me to fail you in regaining your memories, I truly believe the more you accept this life, to make it your own, the easier the transition will be if your memories do choose to reveal themselves." Standing from his chair, Albus left his seat by hers before the small hearth and crossed to his desk to pet Fawkes, purple and silver robes shifting to twilight gray in the morning sunlight.

Hermione smiled as she brushed her fingers over the phoenix crest around her neck and realized she too was wearing violet beneath her heavy woolen robes today. Little moments like this made her feel even more of a Dumbledore than the papers Albus had forged at the Ministry, than the document they'd both signed with blood.

Make new memories… Easier said than done.

The trouble with making new memories was it meant letting people in.

For the past two weeks she had done a fair job of maintaining the image of the devoted student, when in fact, the necessary knowledge was already tucked away in her mind. Only once had Hermione dared peek through the door into the Hogwarts library. Even the passing glance at the endless sea of titles, filled with words already imprinted in her mind, made her head spin with recalled information. She left as quickly as she'd appeared, wary of a repeat of what happened in the library at Potter Manor.

Instead, she had taken to writing down her recent memories. Albus had gifted her with the empty magical journal her first day of classes, during their first tea, in fact, calling the empty tome a "memory charm," of sorts. As she had taken to keeping her innermost thoughts to herself of late, she could easily be found pouring into the thick yellow pages. Never mind that her roommates thought her mental. The Dumbledore name allowed her more than few expected eccentricities. Let them think her a bookworm. Schoolwork was like a breeze to her, hardly challenging.

People were Hermione's challenge.

Fawkes cried a note of his beautiful song and Uncle Albus crooned softly spoken words back before saying, "I believe if you run, you might make it to Arithmancy on time, my dear."

"Right. Thank you for the tea, Uncle." With a wry grin, Hermione pulled her undetectably extended satchel strap around her neck and pressed her palm against her wand as she stood. Energy pulsed from the powerful wood through her fingertips and helped push her limbs into action. She'd been able to avoid using it much so far, something she avoided letting her Professors and classmates know and of which Uncle thought highly amusing.

Dodgy old coot, she fondly thought.

"Do not forget our discussion, my dear!" aforesaid coot called as she approached the stone gargoyle. "Oh, and do keep an eye out for Nargels would you? I believe they have taken to stealing my slippers of late."

Hermione chuffed as the floor shifted beneath her. "I will, Uncle Albus."

-Keep reading at AO3

#a darkly slanted mirror #hp fanfiction #hermione fanfiction #jamione #james x hermione #eanna23je #hp time travel au

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keyenuta · 4 years

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TW Prologue: So enters The Wizard

(this is the first part of this fanfic i’m making, I hope y’all like what I write and enjoy the characters, if anyone is OOC I’m sorry, I’ll try and do better next chapter!) Pt2, pt3

In the Ramshackle dorm there’s only two people sitting in its time worn walls, Grim, the self proclaimed to be greatest Magician, purrs and mumbles in his sleep, muttering of his greatness and power, while his partner, or as he calls them, “minon” is shuffling in their sleep, turning and motioning in their sleep as like many nights before, all that’s on their mind is that mirror that stays perched atop their dusty fire place, Leaning atop its white base as it’s faded gold frame encapsulates its foggy glass.

But ever curious, and having a hard time falling back to sleep, after blinking the early dust from their eyes, the prefect lowly mumbles as their feet rake across the groaning wood beneath them, and as they approached the glass, memories popped into their sleep deprived mind. The queen of hearts, riddle, and as well, ghost pains from days ago, the feeling of thorns and magic arcing across their body, as with a deep sigh, the prefect found themselves in front of the glass once more.

“Ugh, wonder what the dream will be this time, if its something with the queen again, hopefully no more queens for month” They droned, peering into the glass once again.

Soon enough, a brilliant light fills their vision, forcing them to squint while the light spirals into a black and white image.

Four strange looking people were walking-no, rather skipping arm in arm down a brick tiled road, approaching a citadel of towering green spires that glistened while they rakes the sky above. The first of the group seemed normal enough, she was a little girl with long pigtails and a checkered dress, skipping in ruby slippers that also gifted a dash of color to the picture. But to her right, things got stranger. A man made entirely of rusted metal and bolts bounced and hopped alongside the girl, smiling a metallic grin as to her left, things got strange once again. Since there was now a whole lion standing there, hopping and bouncing on his hind legs, lightly shuddering with each step as a worried smile creaked across his face. As on his right, there was a whole scarecrow, filled with hay and everything, skipping along side everyone with the brightest grin out of the bunch, but no matter what, it seemed everyone was singing the same thing as they skipped.

“We’re off to see The Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz!”

But as the dream progressed, soon enough the group stood before two giant double doors, each one intricate in its designs, showing off an explosive array of magic and status before they strode through, only to receive “I AM OZ!” rattling everything around them, vibrating every which way as the wizard continued to bellow in the echoing room.

“The great and powerful! WHO, ARE YOU!” He bellowed, asking over and over “Who, are you!” Yuu listened as the wizard thundered, but all they could think was, If you stopped asking for a second they would tell you, but for Yuu, they couldn’t focus on this for long, as second after second, a low sound increased around them getting louder and louder, until a massive

“Nyaaaaargh” woke them up, groaning awake, the prefect once more blinked the sleep from their yes as they found the culprit of the roar right there on their stomach. Sleep talking again

Chuckling at their partner, Yuu petted the flaming cat as he purred on their stomach, “heh, The only thing great and powerful is that roar of yours” they smirked, running their fingers through Grim’s soft fur.

“prrrr…Nragh! How’s that?! The great and mighty grim Showed that tyrant Riddle who’s boss!~” Grim purred

“Oh, did you now?” said an off sounding stern voice, only to be instantly followed up by a cracking “OfF wItH yOuR hEad!” jolting grim awake with a large yelp as he scrambled to his paws, whirling his head from side to side

“Ffnaah?! Get this collar off m-wait, what?” Grim’s surprise lessened as he touched around his neck, there was no collar to be seen, but what was there was a bunch of laughing from the other red head they knew, Ace Trappola

“Pfft, Ace, that was not funny, you scared Grim half to death” Deuce snickered

“Ahahahaha, come on don’t lie Deuce, you laughed too, just look at his face hehehe” he laughed, clutching his robbed stomach, peering through the blinds of their hair, Yuu began to think, those robes, I saw those before Yuu thought, memories of a dark room, coffins and a lot of blue fire bubbled up to the surface.Raising their hair covered face up at the two suits, Yuu asked

“morning, what’re the robes for?” they yawned, slicking back one of their blinds of hair to at least see them.Now with one working eye, she took in the clothes they wore, a large intricate black and purple robe with gold designs glittered about them, and not to mention Ace had way too much eyeliner on.

Ace paused and lit back up as he answered the prefect

“Oh right, the headmaster didn’t tell you earlier huh?” Yuu shook their head from side to side as Grim grumbled up to his feet growling at the suits

“Hey! Apologize for waking me up like that!” the heart suit ignored the black cat and continued on, earning even more angry sounds from the monster

“Well, there’s an emergency ceremony happening soon, something about late arrivals or something.” Ace droned rubbing his hooded neck, “geez, Dorm head didn’t have to wake us up so early though” he groaned

“I agree, but you know how he is, oh, right, the headmaster also gave us these for you” Deuce said, in his hand he gave the two a large box, peering into the the package, just like the two suits, Yuu found a pair of matching robes for them, and a small cloak for grim.

“Alright, we’ll be on our way, give us a second to change” Yuu said

In the ceremony room~

A room doused in colors of purple and black stands a group of cloaked in the same colors, as ribbons and beads hang over head while coffins and black gates surround the group within already. Some look at attention, while others look as if they would rather be anywhere else but here. And while they stood, coffins floated around them, hovering in the air as they waited to open. And for the latter, Leona, the dorm leader of Savanaclaw was a prime example, standing upon a circle of runes, arms crossed with a bowed head. Lightly snoring before breathy yawn rapidly turned into a sharp grunt, “Ngh” as Ruggie, his vice dorm head jerked him awake, sighing at his friend.

“Oi, wake up Leona, you can sleep later. If anyone has an excuse to sleep it’s Rosehearts over there” Ruggie nagged to a now groaning Leona.

“tsk” riddle clicked, “I can assure you I have more than enough energy to attend a ceremony” Riddle stated pointedly, it had only been a few days after his overblot, but still, he wasn’t going to sit in bed while new dorm members could potentially be coming, he had to lead by example.

“Shishishi, well if you say so, but don’t start crying if it gets too hard” the hyena teased.

“tsk, what was that?: Riddle seethed, his silver eyes leered over to the hyena as he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder,

“Riddle, its fine, please calm down” Trey whispered to hear a sigh escape the dorm head’s mouth before his eyes returned to the coffins.

All the while, Leona muttered holding his head, while his green eyes lazily blinked open, “Do we really have to be here? It’s just a handful of students after all” the lion groaned

“Ozlandia’s standards for time are very different Mr. Kingscholar, for what is late for us, they view themselves as on time, and their students deserve the full Night raven college experience, for I am gracious” Crowley hummed

.yawn “Then they can come on time then, mmm, save us the trouble”

“Speaking of being on time, has anyone see Mr. Draconia around?” Crowley pondered

Each Dorm leader looked around the room for moment and then realized, once again, they had forgotten the third year,

“Hmph, it seems we have forgotten Malleus again.” Riddle spoke

“Oh, what a tragedy, it is quite unfortunate I must say” Azul bemoaned to a wave of eye-rolls at his tone. But soon enough a rush of thumping feet echoed in the room, as Yuu, Grim, Ace, and Deuce had finally arrived.

“Ah Prefect, welcome to the ceremoney, I apologize for not giving you an earlier warning, but, seeing as now we have everyone gathered, It is time to begin” When Crowley said that, the coffins around the students began to fall to the ground, stomping to an echoing thump as clicks and creaks sounded from the boxes.

And from the middle coffin, it’s door creaked open as it showed a boy with brown skin resting atop a coffin of grey roses. His hood’s shadow covered most of his face but soon enough, a pair of brilliant gold eyes peered from the darkness as the future student slowly raised himself from the box, grunting as he pried himself up, cracking his neck, he took down his hood to reveal a nappy black-silver fro, parted on it’s sides by two sharp ears. Much in resemblance to Malleus and Lillia from Diasomnia. And now standing on solid ground, the only thing most of the dorm leaders thought of was,

He’s wearing the robes wrong. By this they mean that the boy didn’t even close the cloak above, like it was just some regular jacket. And most upset of all was Vil Schoenheight, the dorm leader of Pomefiore glared daggers at the boy. His lavender eyes seemed to look angered and shocked at how he wore his formal robes. He would definitely have a word with this boy soon.And to his glare, all the dorm head got was a playful grin. The dorm head began thinking if the boy was mocking him, did he wear it like that on purpose, inconceivable. And for the majority of the leaders no one really piped up but Ridddle, always quick to preserve the rules spoke up first.

“You, fix your robes, if you are going to be in this ceremony, you should wear your clothes properly!” he commanded, silently hoping this would not be one of his dorm students. But cutting through that, the boy have his answer, resting his hand on his waist, the boy chuckled

“Pfft, nah I’m not going to change” he stated, shrugging his shoulders

“Tsk, excuse me?!” riddle edged out.

“Said I wasn’t gonna do it, do I need to crouch for you to hear me or something?” he teased, Riddle’s hands clenched into fists as he could already feel his anger rising, meanwhile, the younger teen still gave him a playful grin, as he motioned the short dorm leader to come at him, his lips pointing into corners as he watched the dorm leader rise in anger.

“did, you just call me short?!” Riddle seethed

Though before the back and forth could continue, each of the other tombs began creaking alongside each other. The first of the 6 remaining to open revealed a baby faced boy with green skin, and curly raven black locks that broke through his hood. He gazed around at everyone and everything in the room with many oohs and aahs while he stood besides the taller boy, offering a wave as the others soon followed behind.

After him, a boy who’s arms and legs clinked and clanked stiffly walked free of his tomb, as his metallic appendages glistened in the room as he stood besides his fellow students. And next up was a boy with straw coming out of his robes? And after him, a student with pronounced lion ears and tail soon followed. But when the boy went to step out of his coffin, he shuddered and shook relentlessly, he scampered forward only to instantly move back from the group, holding up his tail as he tried and failed to glare at the students besides him. And for Leona, he looked dumbfounded, groaning in annoyance at the sorry state of the lion in front of him. What kind of lion was that, he looked like a herbivore just by looks, not to mention scent.

And second to last, there was a big hufff as soon, a gruff sounding boy kicked open his coffin door and strides towards to group, his body was barrel chested and even through the sleeves he had massive arms bulging from the darkness as Peach fuzz raked across his jaw.

Crowley saw each of the teens clump together as he gave a brief ahem to continue the ceremony.

“ahem, welcome to Night raven academy, I am Headmaster Crowley, I am sorry but it seems you have all came late into the school year, but believe me we will be sure to catch you up as soon as possible. mhm, we are truly grascious, but for now let’s get you all sorted.”

The headmaster walked towards the mirror, whispering into the glass as word after word the mirror filled with green energy, illuminating the area in its hue as a detailed face or mask coalesced from the magic.

“The mirror of darkness guides you, please step forward and give me your name” The mirror called. The brown boy from earlier stepped forward as said

“My name’s Zoroaster Ozma” he said, resting a hand against his chest, but as he listened to the mirror, in the background Grim groaned under his breath about how boring this was. But one word seemed to change the whole air of the room.

“Your soul’s shape is...Ramshackle”

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aikatxt · 6 years

Text

a kindness we do unto ourselves

If there is a life outside this one, she does not know it. Years of the same painful routine strip away the outside world. She's left locked within the land her father left her, and a fireplace she sleeps by. Her stepmother takes her father's property and holds it away from her. Her stepsisters call out order after order for their favorite servant Cinderella. And it is the only life she knows.

--- There are nights when she looks back on her life and finds that her happiest memories have slipped away from her. She gathers the fragments and holds them close to her chest, going over them night after night until her childhood is complied into a neat list of memory. Her mother is the first to be lost in the void of time; gone are the melodies she once sang, what her eyes looked like, how she danced in the garden. What is remembered is the frail hands of a sick woman, the soft smiles, and a gentle voice murmuring, "No matter what happens, you must be kind. There is a strength in kindness the world can never break down." Her father's ghost remains locked in her ribcage; when she thinks of him, she sees his laughter, the strong hands that lifted her onto his shoulders, the worn out hat he wore each time he rode away. They won't tell her what happened to him, just that he died and there was no body to bury. Cinderella drifts off to the voice of her father: "I promise I'll be home soon, Ella. You know I never break my promises."

--- "Cinderella! Come fix my dress!" "Cinderella! Don't be so late with breakfast! You can eat at lunch." "Cinderella! I spilled your last two inkwells. Won't you be a dear and clean it up for me?" The cruel taunts and laughter press down on her shoulders until it's all she can do to not crumple under the weight of the world. She keeps her head down and does as they say. She doesn't look them in the eye. She goes hungry, but she doesn't cry. "Be kind," her mother had said. "I must be kind to them," she whispers, "Come on, don't let them get to you, Cinderella. Be kind." Especially to those who do not deserve it. --- They only let her into town once a week to buy what they cannot make on the farm. It's the same day, the same shops, the same people. Nothing ever changes: the people give her smiles and make small talk, ask her how her step family is doing. Some will worry over her soot-stained cheeks and tell her she's been working too hard. Cinderella gives a tight smile back and leaves quickly. They always worry, never enough to take her away from her step family. They always worry, but only when she's around to remind them of how poorly the orphan is doing. Cinderella keeps smiling, and moves on with her chores. There's nothing else for her to do, after all. --- "I read to you a message from the royal family! In fives days time, a ball will be held in honor of the Prince's birthday. The ball will take place over the course of three nights, and will be where the Prince shall choose his bride. Every women, no matter how young or old, poor or rich, is hereby formally invited to the ball." The message is put up at the center of town. News travels quickly, and gossip even faster; within four hours, Cinderella is pulled away from cleaning the lunch dishes and dragged out to town. "Coriel said that she saw Mura buying a orange dress. Simply tacky," Stepmother sneers, and turns to her daughters with a sharp-toothed smile. "You girls will pick something more tasteful, yes?" "Yes, mother!" they chorus, "We'll look nothing like Mura! Her taste is closer to Cinderella's than ours!" Their high pitched giggles fill the air and Cinderella doesn't look any of them in the eye. Stepmother leads the way, carving out a path in the crowds of excited women, and enters store after store. It takes six for her to find the dresses she likes enough to buy, and four more to buy shoes and jewelry. Her oldest daughter finds dresses three stores in, and her youngest takes ten stores. Cinderella, of course, only gets to carry their purchases and pray that she doesn't trip. --- Every woman, young and old, rich and poor. But no. It's every women except Cinderella. She will never go to the ball, no matter how much she wants too. That doesn't mean she won't try. --- "Cinderella!" The calls start before dawn. She's never gotten up so early before. For a long moment, she lays besides the fire place, cold now that the fire has died, and hopes the voice only came from a dream. "Cinderella! Wake up!" But no. It's real. Cinderella sighs and stands. She doesn't bother to wipe the ashes off her dress; it can hardly get any more stained. She goes out and feeds the chickens, collects their eggs, and sets out a small bit of cheese for the mice that keep her company. She milks the cows and sets up for breakfast. It's only then, after an hour, that she heads up to the sisters' rooms. No doubt they'll be annoyed by how long it took. It's petty, but Cinderella is satisfied to upset them in such a small way. "Where have you been?!" Annabella screeches, flinging herself towards Cinderella. "The ball is today and we have to get ready!" "The ball isn't until six in the evening. Prepare in the afternoon." Cinderella spares a moment to glance over the room; Annabella has her wardrobe open, clothing falling out. Gistelle ignores them both as she brushes her hair, but her dress is also laid out on her bed. Stepmother will be up soon, and breakfast isn't made yet. Cinderella leaves and ignores the sisters when they cry out. She can be kind later. --- After hours of pulling corsets and lacing up dresses, her step family is ready to go. They do up their hair and drape pearls over their collar bones, the picture perfect image of wealth. Her father's wealth. The thought of what they do to his earnings makes her sick. Cinderella hurries to wash her face and hands free of soot. Her mother's old dress is still soft after twelve years, and putting it on makes her feel like a child playing dress-up again. She has no shoes besides her work boots, but it would have to do. It's a risk, going after them now. But she can not walk to the castle. Only hope that Stepmother will be kind enough to allow her to come. --- They tear her mother's dress to pieces. They laugh and mock her, and Stepmother slaps her across the face for daring to come along with her. The sudden silence is suffocating. It's the first time she's ever raised a hand to Cinderella. The shock of it holds off the tears, but it's a close thing. "Now, Cinderella," Stepmother says, holding Cinderella's chin so she can't look away, "I only do this because I care for you. Going to the ball will only hurt you. You know you don't belong with people like us." Everything you own comes from my father. It's more mine that it is yours. The words lodge in her throat, choking her, and she can't speak. This isn't care or kindness. You only know cruelty. I wish you died instead of father. They leave, but the sick joy on Annabella and Gistelle's faces are gone. They glance back at her, wide-eyed and pale, and Cinderella wonders if they even know how much they’ve hurt her. --- In the pain that came from the night, Cinderella tears off the rest of the dress and sobs. She's never cried this much before. Hasn't cried at all since father died. The manor is silent and no piece of her parents is left after all the remodeling Stepmother did. Cinderella leaves, running blindly and she struggles to wipe tears away. I have been kind, her heart says, What more can I do? Is this really what I deserve? "Please," Cinderella begs, "Just make it stop." --- No one has ever listened before. But this time, the world stops. A star lights up the night sky and falls to the earth. Cinderella cups the light in her hands and cradles it to her chest. It's so warm, like a mother's hug, and Cinderella thinks that if she is to die soon, she will be satisfied with it. --- The star glows lighter, enough to blind, and stardust swirls around her. The dress that adorns her body is silver and glimmers in the light. Pale slippers fit her feet perfectly, looking like diamonds, and the star itself rests against her chest in the form of a necklace. Cinderella grasps it with her hands and looks to the sky. "Thank you." --- The moon's reflection in the garden's pond rises up and becomes a carriage. The wind turns into horses, and flowers become carriage men. The manor is left far behind. And ahead, is the castle. --- "May I have this dance?" the Prince asks. "I don't know how to dance," Cinderella replies. "Just follow my lead, and you'll be fine." --- The Prince leads her to the gardens. They laugh and dance under the moonlight, and talk about their lives. "My parents wanted this ball. I didn't. But I could not change their minds," he admits, "I feel like an object being shown off. No one calls me by my name anymore." "I miss my parents," she whispers, "Stepmother is cruel, but I think it's because she loves her daughters too much, and I remind her of what they could have become. They gave me a new name, made to remind me that I am lower than them. I can't escape this life." "You have been more honest with me tonight than anyone has been in years. Please, call me Henri. I wish to have you has a friend." "They call me Cinderella, because I have to sleep by a fireplace to be warm and the cinders stain my skin. I only know how to be a servant, not a friend." "Just be yourself. That's all I ask of you." --- The dress begins to fade as the stars disappear. Cinderella runs away from Henri, from the ball, and travels down the long road to the Manor as dawn arrives. Behind her, the ball dies down, and the attendees begin to return home to sleep away a night of dancing. It feels like a dream. A dream she never wants to wake up from. --- The second night, Henri asks, "Why don't you ever leave them?" Cinderella runs her hand along the soft petals of the roses that grown in the castle gardens. "They can't survive on their own. Just because they are cruel doesn't mean I have to be." "You show them more kindness than you show yourself." There is nothing she can say to that. "I wish I could help you, but they would marry us within a day." "Henri, you are kind and charming, and I wish I could marry you but I will not leave one life of servitude for another." He smiles and looks up at the stars. "I understand. I have my duties and I must see them through, no matter what I want." "I don't think I'll come tomorrow night," Cinderella admits, "I am someone else here, and going back to the Manor hurts." Henri is silent for a long time. His face is lost in shadow and he looks so small. The sight breaks her heart, already so fragile, but Cinderella know what she must do, and she refuses to back down. She has been the helpless maiden for too long. If no hero will come for her, she will be her own hero. Finally, Henri smiles. It's small and sad, but it's a smile regardless. "In that case, will you dance with me one last time before our goodbye?" --- In another life she could have loved him. But Cinderella has lived her life hurting and surviving just to please the people who will never love her. Her nights with Henri have reminded her of what she had long forgotten: we must always be kind, but we must not forget to be kind to ourselves as well. There is no one left in this world to mourn her should she die. So Cinderella will relearn how to be kind to herself; no more will she sacrifice herself for the people who only want her to hurt. She will live and be kind regardless of what she suffers through. Kindness is strength; Cinderella vows to never be weak again. --- Gistelle finds her packing third night. She claimed feeling sick and weakly, and Stepmother let her stay home on the last ball night. "The Prince hasn't ever looked at me. He always ran away with his mystery girl," she had said, "Please, Mother, let me stay home and rest, I feel so weak and sick." It isn't the first time she's lied. "You're leaving, aren't you." It's more statement than questions, but Cinderella still answers. "Yes," she says, "I can't stay here any longer." Gistelle fidgets with her bracelet, then gathers her courage and looks Cinderella in the eye. "I'm sorry about Mother. I never thought she would hit you. Especially not for wanting to go to the ball. I would have done the same as you." "She only did it because she loves you." "What do you mean?" "You lost your father when you were young. She remarried to make sure she had enough wealth to let you and Annabella live comfortably. She hates me because I remind her of what you could have become." "That doesn't make it right." Cinderella pauses, then sits down at the kitchen's small table. "No," she agrees, "It doesn't. But I understand why she did it." "I'm sorry, too, for how I've treated you. All these years I've hurt you. I thought it was just a bit of fun, and you never spoke against it." "I just wanted to be kind to you. But in doing so, I stopped being kind to myself. That's why I have to leave." Gistelle nods. For once, there is no cruel satisfaction in her eyes. The haughty air of a privileged girl is gone. What is left is a young girl hunching into herself as though to hide. The guilt is plain to see on her face, and Cinderella finds that she can't be mad for all the things she did in the past. She just loved her mother too much to see her faults, and did as she did. "Annabella's sorry too, but she's never been good at apologizing." "I know," Cinderella smiles, kindly, and it's enough to make Gistelle's eyes water. She crosses the room and gathers Cinderella up into a hug. "I'll miss you," she whispers, then backs away just as quickly. "I'm glad you got to enjoy the ball though." Cinderella startles. "What?" "Your necklace. It's the same one the mystery girl wears. Are you going to marry him?" "No. I just wanted to go to the ball. Henri is my friend, but nothing more. He knows that. He's the only one I said goodbye to." "Add me to that list then," Gistelle says, "Goodbye." --- Cinderella doesn't run. She walks through the quiet night. In the distance, the castle is full of light. Most everyone from the town is there. She walks and the star on her chest glows to illuminate her path. It's surreal, leaving the Manor and knowing she never has to go back. She walks until the dawn comes, painting the world around her in soft light. It's quiet, and though she's tired, she keeps going. Far from the town, is a forest. Beyond it is another kingdom. There, Henri waits for her, with two horses. "Cinderella," he says. "There is one thing I can do for you." He hands her the reigns of one horse. "Mariella," she says. "Call me Mariella. I no longer wish to be bound to the identity my step family gave me." "Mariella," Henri repeats. "A lovely name. I wish you to best of luck in your travels." "I'll miss you," she says, then pulls herself up onto the horse. "And I'll miss you." They've already said goodbye, so all Henri does is wave her off as she follows the path from the forest and disappears from sight. --- After so many years of the same hurts, Mariella emerges from the forest without soot on her cheeks and a smile on her lips. There is a life outside of pain. It's the life she chooses.

#cinderella #fairy tale retelling #fairy tale #prose #original fiction #inkstay #spilled ink #spilled words #spilled prose #fiction #oof this is a long one

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officialleehadan · 6 years

Text

At the last moment

(She found another student. I have to get out.)

Morzan's voice in her mind startled Keeli badly enough that she dropped the plate she was washing. If fell with a plop back into the wash-bucket, and she was annoyed until his words really processed. He was tightly afraid and had that undercurrent of pain that was becoming all too familiar.

(When?) she asked quickly. He had a good grasp on himself, and his power was a tiny, coiled knot so faint even she could barely sense it. He was hiding, locked in his room and hoping his mistress wouldn't think to check there.

(Now,) he replied and coiled himself even tighter. (He's every bit as vicious as she is, and nearly my equal in power.)

(Do you have enough to portal?) Keeli asked urgently and wove herself closer into his mind. There was no time for explanations. Not when his thoughts kept flickering to what they would do to him if his mistress caught him now.

(She drained me the day he arrived,) he said darkly. Intentional, he knew. There was no way she would allow him to escape. Not when his death would provide a truly terrifying amount of power for her to use at her leisure. If he was very lucky, he wouldn't survive the night. If he did...

(Use mine,) Keeli cut off that train of thought before it could really get moving. (I can tap the node here to feed you.)

It was a measure of trust- both that she would give him access to the very node he had nearly killed her for, and to give him that kind of access to her mind. He could do all kinds of things with that and the power she was offering.

(Not this time,) he was faintly amused under the fear. (Everyone with a touch of mage-power in your town will know a Portal opened nearby. There will be questions.)

(It doesn't matter,) she assured him. Shandar already had a vague idea about her bond, although he wouldn't be pleased that she was throwing power around like that. Mala was out of town, Sarra would throw a fit, but she would understand after. (Just- just get here- we'll deal with the rest after.)

He didn't argue, and that alone told her how badly off he really was. It took a week or more to recover from one of his owner's 'sessions' and they left him barely able to stand. Without waiting any longer she reached for the valley node and tapped in, waiting for the first wild rush of power to subside a little before she mixed her own magic into it and made it hers. She hated having to take the time, but as soon as his master felt him building a Portal, she would come after him. He couldn't afford to be distracted by power that needed managing.

He waited quietly, and she could vaguely feel him slice one of his fingers open and begin drawing Portal runes onto the floor in his own blood. They glistened wetly, inert until he activated them, but shaving bare seconds off where they would matter all too much.

(Ready?) she asked when she had charged herself as bright as she could handle, and drawn matching runes- coordinates for his portal- around the frame of her door. It would give his portal a quick place to go, and she would activate hers as he activated his.

(Yes,) he answered and dropped every shield between her and his magical core. She flooded him with the built-up power and he screamed as it burned through his channels, but turned his pain into more power.

With control she envied, he brought the runes around him to life. It was quick and dirty, but it did the job. A breath after he did, she activated her own runes and watched the tendrils of magic shoot away into nothingness- and then snap tight as they found the ones on his end.

Through his eyes, she saw the doors to his room blast off its hinges, and the woman who owned him burst in. She threw a mage-bolt at him, a last attempt to stop him before he escaped, but too late.

When he fell through the portal, he was barely conscious, and Keeli managed to catch him before he hit the floor. The pack he had slung over one shoulder at the last moment hit the floor with a thud, and Keeli ignored it.

The Portal was still up, and she saw his Mistress coming at them, her eyes widening when she saw Keeli, cradling her escaped pupil. She came for them, and Keeli gave her a vicious smile, surprised at her own bloothirstyness.

If her power and Morzan's hadn't been so closely woven together, the portal would have stayed where it was until he could no longer support it or he died. He was in no shape to shut it down before the woman reached them.

Keeli, however, had no such problem, and she was still tapped into the node.

With no finesse, she wrecked the runes on her side and used a trick she had learned from Sarra to spin the Portal into itself, closing it, and draining the power not into herself, but into the Between-world where magic was born. No traces to track. With any luck, the woman hadn't known the portal was coming down and was sucked into the Between with the magic. The runes on her side faded into nothing and the ones on his side would have done the same as the spell ended.

No traces, except for the boneless dark-mage in her arms, and the scent of ozone thick as fog. Carefully, she let go of the node, and reached out to her threshold and the runes carved into the wood there, a gift from Shandar.

When she touched them, they flared to life and with them, the many-layered woven shields that had ben the product of hours of work by him and Sarra. Shields that kept even Keeli from finding her home with magic, despite the house being filled with spells she had cast.

Morzan shook, sprawled on the floor of her cottage. Traveling through a portal was unnerving at the best of times. Without any shields, it must have been hell.

"Can she find this place?" he asked when his shaking had eased. his true voice was raw from screaming and barely louder than a whisper. "She will look- for the traces of her power in mine- the marks she left on me-"

"Sarra did the shields here, with Shandar's help. Nothing to say a dark mage lives here at all," she told him softly, and dared to comb her fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "Think you can stand?"

"Maybe," he hedged, eyes closed as he gathered himself. With her help, they got him upright, and Keeli managed to get his arm up over her shoulders.

He completely worn out- but he was alive and not yet in magic-shock. They went slowly through the house and Keeli was suddenly glad that she had chosen the ground-floor room for her own. There was no way she could have gotten him up the ladder to the loft.

They had to stop twice for him to catch his breath and by the time they made it to her bed he was shaking from exhaustion. She was too- from handling so much magic with no preparation.

Once she got him into the bed, Keeli took a proper look at the man who- two years earlier- had tried to kill her.

He was thinner than she remembered, and there was more silver in his hair from node magic.

A far cry from the put-together man she had seen last, he wore nothing but a pair of a loose pants and a shirt that had probably fit him when he got it but was too big for him now. He was still strikingly beautiful, even ghost-pale with dark circles under his eyes.

Keeli shoved a pillow under his head and went to tug off his boots.

(You don't have to do that,) he whispered into her mind without opening his eyes, voice too abused to take more right now. Even his mental voice felt weak.

"I don't want mud in my bed," she told him, teasing lightly as she got the first one unlaced and off. "You'll sleep better without them anyway."

More gently, she added; "You can sleep here, you know. The shields here are good. No one can find this place unless they already know where it is. You couldn't have Portaled in without my creating an anchor for it to find."

(You saved my life. I won't forget it,) he whispered into her mind, (I know you and yours have enemies. I can help.)

(Worry about that when you're not half-dead,) she told him firmly and dropped his boot to join the second one on the floor. She eyed her bed, true exhaustion rising.

A moment more decided her and she toed off her loose slippers and climbed in beside him. His eyes opened when he felt her weight beside him. Thoughts whirled through his mind faster than she could follow, and settled on acceptance. He was cold, and he liked sharing a bed with someone, as long as they weren’t planning to murder him.

Keeli chuckled tiredly and eased next to him, surprised when he scraped up enough energy to tug her until she was against his side.

Too far gone for words, he sent her a brief pulse of fondness and then he was asleep, quickly sinking through the nightmares that tried to rise into the dreamless sleep of one who had been past their limits quite some time ago.

#blood magic #fantasy magic #writer #writers #fantasy #spilled thought #spilled writing #spilled words #spilled ink #mage #magic #probably not a kosher use of portals

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sabraeal · 6 years

Note

PROMPT: Three accidental kisses... that perhaps weren't so accidental after all.

There are no masquerades in the North. At least, not likethis.

A wave of masks sweeps out of the ballroom, flooding thearcade and lapping at the manicured walkways of the courtyards. Their costumes are three centuries out ofstyle, cut much like court robes, though instead of being constrained to dowdycolors and matte fabrics, the crowd scintillates with satins and silks andvelvets, stitched in gold or silver and embellished with crystal. They are the portrait hall come to life, a congregation of history dressed in theirfinest.

“I thought Wistal was known for its full masks,” Hakiremarks, angling herself so that she may both see the revelry outside and watchher husband-to-be enter the antechamber. “I saw pictures of them once, in the libraries atLyrias. Porcelain embellished with gold.”

“Mm, once,” he agrees, coming to stand beside her. Theguests ebb and flow beneath them, and she cannot help but think they lookdesperate for a dance. That was the always the worst part of a night banquet,waiting for the floor to be opened.

“They’ve fallen out of style?” She runs her fingers alongthe stiff velvet of her own, feeling snowdrops beneath their tips. “A pity. I alwaysloved the look of them.”

“There are a few who are traditional.” His shoulder leansagainst the glass, mouth curving beneath his half mask. “But what is the pointof being anonymous, if your mouth is masked as well?”

Haki hopes the darkness of the room hides her flush. She’sto be married in three days, wooed and wedded and bedded, but she is not usedto such frank talk, not out of a nobleman’s mouth, and certainly not a prince.In the North such things are talked around, carefully couched in euphemism andcoy inquiries into whether one’s bed is large enough to warm two. Not – this.This casual mention of mouths kept uncovered for clandestine kisses.

She presses her cheek against the window, hoping the glasswill cool its burn. “Things are very different here.”

“You have a masquerade in Wilant, don’t you?” His mouth cantsslyly. “My mother brought me one as a boy. I had great fun with it. Zen, not asmuch.”

She clucks her tongue chidingly. “Cruel.”

He shrugs. “Elder brothers have their fun when they can.”

Haki ducks her head, smothering a smile into the puffedshoulder of her gown. She refrains from informing him younger sisters did aswell. Makiri still finds other places to be on Long Night.

“It’s not like this,” she tells him instead, when herexpression can be held placid. “It’s not celebration, but superstition. It’s tochase the spirits back to the mountains, before the winter sets in.”

Her fiancé hums thoughtfully. “Very different.”

She risks a glance up at him. Even with his mask on, she cantell he is serious, contemplative; every inch a king. “It’s all right,” shesays, gaze falling to the crowd below, their faces illuminated by the pale lightof the lanterns. “I think I like this better.”

Her neck aches, and she lowers her head, putting chin to chest. Her headdress is heavy, wrought gold that her hair has been wrapped so tightly around her temples pound. She can’t imagine how women survived this as fashion.

She lets out a soft hiss, fingers probing the back of her neck to relieve the tension there, but – ah, it only makes it worse.

A soft chuckle escapes him. “I am sorry,” her husband-to-be murmurs, stepping closer. “Mother did insist on the worst period for royal headwear.”

These masquerades are tradition, she’s been told a half dozen times. To celebrate the future of a royal marriage, it is considered auspicious to look to the past. A strange custom, to be certain, but there was a poetry to it that appealed to Haki, some romance.

The bride and groom were supposed to be dressed as ancestors that had previously joined their houses together, but – there was no point in history where a prince married a steward’s daughter.

It was an observation that had not gone amiss among thebriars of the court. No one had been cruel in Haki’s hearing, but she had heardthe titters behind hands, seen the speculative looks some of the women had eyedher with. Her own handmaidens brought back talk, had told her of women who hadlaughed behind closed doors and said, whoknows, perhaps she does have some fine blood within her. There’s always achance a lord takes his due.

That is until Haruto arrived, all smiles and sunlight, andtold her she had chosen a time where one of her own ancestors had married intothe Wisteria line – the marriage that brought Wistal and Wilant as one.

Haki’s eyes had burned with gratitude. It was not just anhonor, it was a claim. Whoever tookissue with her bloodline had issue with the Queen Dowager herself.

It is more than she deserves, but Haki knows well enough not to say.

“I see now why you just have the bands.” Her whole head chimes as she tilts to look him in the eye. It feels like her scalp might rip off from the weight.

“I am suddenly very suspicious of why she begged off the evening,” she continues, teasing. It would be just like Haruto to put forth all this effort, only to find herself conveniently allergic to the evening.

“Oh, I’m sure the accessories are part of it.” His lips part beneath his mask, just slightly. “But please do not feel as if it is a slight. I think…”

Something very serious settles over his face; he looks less a young man and more a king in this light, lines furrowing the space between his brow.

“I think she did not think the festivities would affect her so.” His mouth pulls at the corners, grim. “She thought she had put so much of this behind her.”

“Ah, I –” Haki flounders, looking for words that won’t come. “I didn’t think how hard this might be for her.” She wraps a hand around his elbow, gentle. “She must have loved your father very much.”

Muscles tense beneath her hand, and when she looks up, his mouth is a rictus of a grin.

It is gone in a moment. “I only mean,” he drawls, humor rich in his voice, “that it is hard for her, as a widow. She does so love dancing.”

A laugh bursts from her. “You would not dance with your mother? Hm, they say there is much about how a man treats his wife in how he treats his mother. Should I worry –?”

“You will never find fault with me as a husband,” he promises with an amount of vehemence that startles her. “Not in this.”

“I did not mean –”

He holds up a hand, gently quelling. “I know. I only meant – you may be at ease with me. There is no harm I would ever visit upon you.”

Her fingers tangle in her skirt, if only to keep from touching him. “Thank you.”

He turns his head, waiting for their signal. “It is nothing.”

She looks at him, so strikingly handsome even masked and costumed. There is something about the robes of this era that lend him an air of wisdom, though they do not hide the lithe power of his frame either. Makiri often said the king was one of the bests swords in the country, and dressed like this she could believe it.

In the dim light of the corridor, the pale arch of his cheek glows, and she cannot help herself, not when he makes himself so – so within reach.

She leans into him, finger sinking into the soft velvet of his robe as she rises on her toes, lips tingling with the expectation of the sharp curve of his cheekbone –

He turns, so attentive, at the last moment. “Is there some –?”

His breath catches as their lips met, hardly more than a brush of skin and shared breath –

She rocks back onto her heels with an embarrassed chirp. “Your Majesty, I –! I didn’t –”

“Ah, no.” His hand comes to her cheek, pulling her back toward him. “Haki, it is – fine. I don’t –”

Their eyes meet, both so black in the darkness.

“– Mind,” he finishes, strangely breathless. She feels it ghosting over her lips, her toes curling in her slippers. Surely he cannot mean –

“We’re to be married, are we not?” he asks, his voice so low, so enticing. She leans into him, his robes tickling her palms. “We should not be so shy with just a single kiss.”

“Well,” she replies with more confidence than her quivering heart feels. “It is the only one.”

He leans closer. “Thus far.”

Her eyes flutter shut. “Thus far…”

“Your Majesty!”

They spring apart, like a scullion caught in the hay with a stable hand. The steward, eyes rolled aloft, waits just outside the doors. “It is time.”

Izana clears his throat, pink dusting his cheeks. “We can continue this conversation later,” he tells her, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Ah,” she sighs, pressing a hand to her cheek. “Yes. Later.”

Everything about this damned thing itches.

Zen has done his part for the night – his due diligence, as brother had so eloquently put it. He’s stood at Izana’s side and pretended he does not look absolutely ridiculous in – what is this? Some sort of dress? – his hair fighting the fashionable curl of yesteryear with every strand.

He’s made polite conversation with every foreign dignitary, even the Samese ambassador, who wore musty furs and smelled heavily of musk. The old style, you know, Batbayar had said with a laugh, slapping Zen on the back hard enough to make him stumble.

He’s danced with every eligible young woman Haruka deemed it would be an insult to miss, and his costume would be nearly sweat through if it was not so copiously padded in the shoulders and chest. He hopes whatever perverse impulse that made his mother pick the Solomon period has been exorcised from her, for he won’t be having any of this at his marriage masquerade.

With that thought, he smiles. Finally he is done with duty; now he may turn to the more pleasurable part of this night.

He scans the shadows of the ballroom, letting his legs leadhim out the doors, down to the arcade. Here the usual alcoves are curtained –for privacy, his brother had said all-to knowingly – and Zen’s sharp eyes onlyserve to catch couples dallying in their finery.

His nose wrinkles. Weddings are romantic, yes, but even withthe anonymity the masks afford, public displays are unseemly. Using the alcoves to steal a few kisses that could keepto the end of the night was the height of impropriety and –

Zen’s mind grinds to a stop. He sees her.

Her back is to him, but he recognizes the curve of her body,the way she is so small but stands so tall. The court in season is like asummer storm, but Shirayuki has weathered it all, unbowed. She makes it so easyto picture her beside him, to imagine her hand in his and this distance betweenthem erased in a single moment, her at his side as they promise to step forwardtogether.

She’s done well to hide herself in the alcoves; Izana hasn’t forbidden himto see her – and he invited her in the first place – but still he feels hisbrother’s disapproval like a palpable weight. Shirayuki peers out from thecurtain, head swiveling about on her neck, looking for him. Her hair is covered– one of the few fashions of the Solomon period that has any merit, in Zen’sopinion – and her mask covers all but her mouth, but still he knows her. Hewould know her anywhere.

He must traverse half the arcade, but it feels like only three steps, his hand coming to grasp hers and spin her into his arms. “There you are –”

She’s clever; the shadows are thick here, and he has no fear of being spotted when he lowers his mouth to hers.

His name is muffled by his lips when they meet, drawing outa yelp of surprise. For a moment she sits stiff in his arms, one of her hands clutchedin the padded shoulder of his robes, but he keeps the kiss insistent, coaxing.Shirayuki is shy in this, always waiting for him to move first, for him to soothher, and as he expects, she melts against him, opening her mouth under his, and –

She shoves him into the alcove.

His back hits the wall, hard, jolting their lips apart for along second, every noise muted by the curtains save for their heavy breaths. Hebarely has time for another before she is on him again, lips dragging over hiswith a hint of tongue that leaves his knees weak, that leaves him whining,needy, against her mouth.

They’ve never kissed like this – she’s never kissed him like this, never been the one to press formore, always waiting for his lead before her tentative response, but –

Her tongue licks out over the roof of his mouth, draggingalong each ridge behind his teeth and – and he moans, yanking her against him. It’s both too much and not enough;he knows that he shouldn’t, that thishas progressed far beyond their usual kiss, but also – also –

“It’s been so long,” he groans. She hums in agreement, nails dragging along his scalp, and he jerks against her, hips grinding into the flat of her belly.

It’s embarrassing to be so uncontrolled, to be so shameless, but – but she rolls her own in response, whimpering against his mouth, and oh, oh, it is more than fine if she is just as lost as he.

He’s flushed, hot, nudging her mouth aside so he can put his lips to the salt of her skin, sucking at the soft place between her neck and shoulder –

“Zen,” the woman breathes, and – and –

That is not Shirayuki’s voice.

He jolts back, eyes wide. Her mouth is swollen from his kisses, red and still inviting, still tempting, but – but –

He pulls the single ribbon that keeps her mask in place, and blue eyes stare back at him.

He groans.“Kihal.”

No matter how tame he gets, Obi will never enjoy these night banquets.

It’s not the drinking – though as his miss’s guard, he’s not encouraged to imbibe – or the dancing – though it’s not a plus, not in his book. And it’s certainly not the food, but –

The music shifts; the stately strains of the waltz drowned out by the beginning of a playful polka, and there she is, regular as clockwork. He knows her even with the mask, and not just because of the way her hair is burnished in the moonlight, how every fancy whorl catches the light and shines red. It is the way she walks, her feet so firmly planted on the earth even as her chin is tilted towards the heavens; the way she holds herself so tall, cutting through a sea of blue bloods like a skiff does toward shore.

It’s in the way her mouth curves when he drops to the banister in front of her. It how she doesn’t flinch when he wraps a curl around his finger, brushing the pad of his thumb over the silken ribbon of her hair.

“What’s the point of going to a masquerade, if you’re only going to give yourself away?” he asks wryly, smirk hidden behind the porcelain of his mask.

She clucks at him playfully, angling away. “It wasn’t quite my idea,” she admits. “Tanbarun had done away with hair coverings. And it seems my ancestor hadn’t been fond of them even when they hadn’t.”

Obi laughs at that. In the course of her research, his miss had discovered there were a great number of things polite society wore that Lady Theophanu went well enough without. It was the sort of eccentric behavior that might have gone unrecorded, had she not seen fit to inform every person that she happened to come across of the fact. More than once, Obi had caught his miss leaving the library red-faced, only answering his queries about her research with a shrill, It’s going fine!

“What a compliment His Majesty has paid you, suggesting her for tonight…”

Miss’s laughter peals like a bell, and he’s glad his face is behind a mask; he knows how poorly he hides his longing.

“Everyone’s been complimenting me on my wig,” she tells him, leaning close. Her scent winds around him, and he sways, just slightly. “Apparently red wasn’t so rare then. I’ve seen some other women with it tonight.”

“I hope Master isn’t too confused,” Obi teases, letting the curl slip from his finger. “I heard he owed you a dance.”

“Mm,” she hums, distracted. “But what are you supposed to be, Obi? You don’t look so different. I mean,” Her mask hide some of her blush, but the neck of her dress reveals more. “You look very handsome, but I don’t think they dressed like that.”

His breath catches at the compliment,but he shakes it off. His miss is far too kind for his heart. “Can’t you tell, Miss?” He taps on the mask. “I’m the dog!”

Her jaw drops, he thinks in dismay, until a laugh bursts from her. “Obi! Your ancestor wasn’t a dog.”

He lowers his eyes, smile tight behind the mask. “I wonder…”

“Oh well,” she sighs, her shoulders brushing his knees. “I do often prefer dogs to people.”

“I think what you mean,” he laughs, hoping he does not sound so breathless to her ears, “is that you prefer mutts to purebreeds.”

She ducks closer, her mouth struggling against a laugh. “Obi.”

“You’re out here with me, aren’t you?” His voice shouldn’t be this low, shouldn’t show so much, but still, still.

Sharp green watches him from beneath lowered lashes. “I am.”

She’s too close to him; her shoulders are bare, and they rubagainst the knit of his trousers as she stands between his knees. It’s too much;he sways at her proximity, at the temptation of closing that small distancebetween them and –

And he can’t do this. He’s too bold, knowing that he canhide from her.

His fingers slide under his chin, lifting up his mask, and –

Soft lips flutter against his. Air stutters out from hislungs, leaving him gasping.

What is this? What isthis?

His miss jerks back, not enough to leave the cradle of histhighs, but enough so that their eyes meet, so that he may see the shockedquestion in them.

She fell. That’s – that’s the only explanation that makessense. Her slipper caught on her gown, and she just fell onto him.

“Miss –”

“I didn’t –” Her eyes are wide behind her mask. “It was just supposed to be – your mask was still on –”

“Oh,” he breathes, “right. Of course. You meant for the mask…”

His mind grinds to a halt. If she meant for his mask to bethere, would she have meant to –?

“Obi,” she sighs, and there is no reason for him to benddown, no reason for him to assume –

Her hands tangle in the straps of his uniform, pulling himdown as she rises to meet him, and – and there is even less reason for this,for the way she sighs into his mouth, for the way she gasps when his handthreads through the braids and twists at her scalp to draw her closer, to tilther head just so. His miss whineswhen his mouth opens under hers, tongue eagerly slipping past his teeth toslide against his; the friction so delicious that he groans, so softly –

“Oh!” She breaks away, her heavy breath busting over hislips. “I – um…”

“There’s something that bothers me, Miss,” he purrs, slowlyslinking off the banister, unfurling himself so he stands head and shouldersabove her.

“O-oh?” Her skin is flushed a delicious pink, from justabove the top of her mask all the way to her décolletage. It’s…encouraging.

“If my mask was supposed to be on…” His mouth spreads into aslow grin against her lips. “Just what were you planning on doing to it?”

There is only so much she can take.

Haki sweeps into the antechamber, heaving a sigh of reliefwhen she finds it devoid of honored guests. She flicks her train out frombetween the doors and leans back, letting her weight close it the rest of theway. The smooth wood cools her back, and she lingers for a long moment.

Finally, some time to think. Not that she’ll been able to domuch of that tonight, anyway.

She paces away from the door, shaking her head. That kiss haunts her. Or, more accurately, the moment after, when the king royal leaned back in –

Or did he? She must have imagined it; the king is not known for his softness, for having a weakness.

It must be the dream of a hopeless romantic, a fevered wishing by a woman destined to be disappointed by the harsh reality of her marriage –

The door flies open.

Haki is in no mood for pleasant company. “I would prefer to be–” Her eyes fall on the lithe form filling the doorway. “…alone.”

“Good,” His Majesty says, door snicking shut behind him. “I prefer you to be alone as well.”

Her brow furrows. Why could he possibly –?

He descends.

There is no other way to put it. One moment there is an entire room between them, and next there is nothing, his hands dragging her closer still, flattening the ornamentation of her skirt.

“Wait,” she gasps, and he tears himself from her mouth with a wounded noise. “You’ll ruin the flounces.”

The way he looks at her from under his hooded eyes, irises as dark as midnight, makes her want to rip them off herself. “Are you concerned greatly?”

“No,” she breathes, and then pulls him back, fingers threaded tightly against his scalp. He gasps into her mouth, and yes, yes, this is what she wants from him –

“Your Maj – oh, really? At your own party?”

Haki springs away, waking her mouth with the back of her hand. Sir Shidnote stands at the door, torn between amusement and wishing he could be anywhere else.

“Would it really be any better if it was at someone else’s party?” Izana drawls, turning away from her with eyebrows raised.

His knight laughs. “At least no one would be telling me to come fetch you for the dance.”

Her fiancé lifts a single shoulder, as if he couldn’t be bothered by such trivial complaints. Sir Shidnote only laughs harder.

“Just come as quick as you can. I don’t want to be explaining this to Haruka.”

The door remains ajar when he leaves; a reminder. She can hear the din of the party wafting through it, and she is embarrassed to know she almost let herself be accosted mere feet away from the court, in a room without even a lock –

Izana turns to her, gaze heated, and her thoughts evaporate. She wants his hands on her again, wants him to find where the seamstress hid the closures of her gown.

He steps close, bending so that the tip of his nose meets hers. Her eyes must be crossed, but she hardly cares as long as he looks at her like that. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

“Perhaps after we are married?” she teases, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

He smirks, one hand spreading over the narrow waist of her gown. “There’s plenty to discuss before then.”

She hums thoughtfully, making to sweep past him, but his hand keeps her close.

His voice drops, so deep, when he says. “I will make you a very happy woman, when we are married.”

Her heart flutters in her chest. “Aah,” she sighs. “I do so hope you live up to your reputation.”

His eyebrows raise.

She smiles. “I’ve heard you are a man who keeps his promises.”

#obiyuki #hakizana #kizen #my fic #ans #onepetal #i got FOUR WHOLE ASKS for accidental kisses #this is the prompt that survived #i debated long and hard over which pairings would get them #CLEARLY I CHOSE ALL OF MY FAVS #including my STEALTH FAV #hello kizen tag #i can't wait to put more content in you #Holiday Promptathon

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danieldrylie · 6 years

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An Inauguration Carol, Part I

It was the night before the inauguration, and while ungratefuls prepared to rally and voice their frustrations, the President-elect, Donald J. Trump, stood in front of a window in the presidential suite of the Trump International Hotel. At the table beside him was a plate, knife, fork, and a large taco bowl—a special meal prepared just for him. He loved authentic Mexican food.

He looked out across the city, like Caesar after a conquest, but instead of armor, he was dressed for battle in a silk bathrobe and matching slippers, with “DJT” embroidered along his chest in genuine gold thread. Instead of a sword, he held a phone. It was an older phone, because he found the screens on the newer models were too large, and he needed to be able to reach his thumb across the entire screen quickly in order to Tweet down judgment on his foes.

He was alone in the room, the television was on, and he switched back and forth between watching episodes of The Apprentice recorded on VHS and the news. He listened to the news while staring out the window, until he heard a commentator or pundit say anything negative about him. The seventy year old man would lumber across the room and push the VHS tape back into the dusty VCR, which one of the maids brought to work from her attic for Donald Trump.

This continued into the early morning hours. His wife, Melania, was sleeping in an adjacent room. She told Donald she preferred to do so in order to leave him undisturbed. There were few cars running along the streets below while the city slept, and Donald imagined he was in Florida, where he would much rather be.

While he fantasized about the rolling greens in Mar-a-Lago, away from national security briefings, he heard a horrid noise from one of the bedrooms next door. He left his window, and pressed his ear against the door. His shaking hand clutched the small brass doorknob—which he custom ordered especially to feel comfortable in his hand. The undersized brass doorknob did not feel comfortable now as he flung the door open, hoping at least to surprise whoever was making the noise.

The room was empty and the noise stopped. Donald thought for a moment that he must be dreaming, and perhaps the taco bowl was causing him to be restless in his sleep. He thought it must have been a strange dream, since he usually dreamed that he wasn’t sleeping alone. It could have be an alternate dream, if not a fake one. If it was a dream, then the news might be especially kind to him, since they never were while he was awake. He closed the door and ejected the VHS, hoping Anderson Cooper would deliver the praise he desired, even if it was fake praise.

He reclined on the chaise, and waited eagerly for the silver-haired reporter to appear on the screen, but the sound of the television drowned out as the noise returned. Donald pulled a blanket from the bed, and clutched it like a child would a stuffed toy.

“It must be a dream. It has to be a dream. I have the best dreams. This is a bad dream.”

It was a familiar noise, one he heard from someone who he hired as an instructor at Trump University. It was a circular saw. It couldn’t be the instructor, even though he went back to contracting after he stopped teaching economics at TU. In between spurts of buzzing, he heard metal dragging across the floor.

“This is a dream. A sad dream!”

Just then, the bedroom door began to flow, much like the ocean, or Donald’s hair in a gentle breeze, although not as artificially. The center of the door protruded and took the form of the face of a man, until the whole door stretched like putty, and the entire figure could be made out. It wore large work gloves, a tool belt, and was bound with a chain running from head to toe with caulk guns hanging from the links.

“Donald!”

“Who are you? You’re not serving papers, are you?”

“No, Donald. I am your contractor.”

“The one who took economics in high school? He was good with numbers. Not as good as me. I’m the best with numbers. China is good with numbers too. We’re getting beat by China in numbers.”

“No, Donald. I am the contractor you didn’t pay!”

“Which one?”

“It doesn't matter. I am here to warn you, Donald.”

“I don’t need a warning. You need a warning. You’re the one who needs to be warned!”

“Donald, you did not honor our contract. You must honor your deal with the American people.”

“You know, it was not a very good deal. The contract was not a very good deal. I will make a better deal. Nobody is asking if Hillary had a deal in her emails. I’m not saying that Hillary emailed the deal. Some people are saying that. We’ll see.”

The figure receded into the door, each of its features becoming less defined as the spectre pulled back, until only the outline of its face remained.

“Honor the contract! Honor the contract before it’s too late, Donald!”

Soon, the figure was gone entirely, and the door took its original form again, with white trim and gold inlays, and the undersized brass knob. The President-elect did not know what to think of the ghost, but was disappointed that the Secret Service escort outside did not take the ghost out on a stretcher. The Obama secret service was in shambles, he thought. He considered Tweeting at the Secret Service, making his displeasure public, but decided instead to scold the agent himself, and perhaps command the hotel staff to erect a brick wall in front of the door to keep spectres out in the future.

The handle on the door to the hall was not one his custom orders, and he hated how it felt, cheap, and so large, bordering on unwieldy. He opened the door and peered down the hall. The agent was not there. He exited the suite, and placed his hands on his hips, giving an audible “humph”. While he considered what kind of punishment would be given to the derelict agent, the hall changed. The paint melted down the walls, the carpet sunk into the wood floors below, and the fixtures evolved into an older style, which the elderly man had not seen since he was a child.

The sound of laughter echoed through the hall. It was a sincere, jolly kind of laugh, which he was not accustomed to hearing. A low, booming voice called his name. Donald began to sweat, and large droplets tinted with artificial tanner flowed down his neck, staining the collar of his robe. The voice called again.

“Donny!”

“Who-who’s there?”

“Don’t be afraid, Donny!”

“I’m not afraid. I’m never afraid. You’re probably afraid!”

A fog rolled in from the stairwell. It was tinted with reds and blues, like a light show, and it swirled around until a large figure was composed in front of him. It was a heavy-set, middle-aged man. He wore horn rimmed glasses and a hat—like the one Donald remembered his father wearing—and a long, wool overcoat hung down his frame, leaving only the cuff of his pin-striped suit and black and white oxfords showing underneath.

“Chris? Why are you wearing that, Chris? You never knew how to dress. I dress great. I bet your tie is too short.”

“I am not Chris Christie, Donny.”

“All fat people look the same. I never cared for fat people. I like beautiful people. I’m just attracted to them—to beautiful people.”

“I am the ghost of inaugurations past. Come with me. We don’t want to miss the event.”

The ghost reached his hand out to Donald.

“No. I don’t hold men’s hands. I don’t hold them—men’s hands.”

The ghost grabbed Donald by the hand, and the hall disappeared into darkness.

#writing #writers on Tumblr #fiction #satire #politics #donald trump #charles dickens #inauguration #fake news #alternate facts #donald trump's hands #anderson cooper #the apprentice #funny #me #my writing

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fancypoloevent-blog · 7 years

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Key Pieces

A dozen of the power pieces from the collection

Dropbox: https://www.dropbox.com/sh/z6g1iu2qc0zps38/AABddOIFGQeV50xp4apjzdpla?dl=0

The Ghost Ski Jacket is part of the RL 2000 series released in 1994. The nickname created by collectors referring to the cartoon skier design resembling a white ghost. The name became fitting years later as collectors saw the RL 2000 series as the end of this unique and wild design era, almost as if the style itself was exiting, or as rappers of that early 90’s era would state their departure, by saying “I’m Ghost.” This size Large nylon down filled black puffer jacket features a blank front and the artwork on the back. The RL 2000 series was known for technical features, futuristic and reflective designs. There is also a matching long sleeve Tee Shirt as part of this set, that is featured in this collection. The RL 2000 series as a whole was a wide ranging group of mens and womens garments and accessories mostly in the Black, Silver and Red colorway. Most pieces featured a simple RL 2000 rubber patch, this jacket stands out as the novelty unique design. With an artistic winter sports character and digital typeface design, this is the Ghost Ski Jacket.

The Crest stands for Royalty and Loyalty. Reminiscent of a British Coat of Arms, this turtleneck was originally released as a Women’s piece in 1992, making this size Large the biggest fit available. The wool hand knit fabric feels luxurious, the crown resembles a majestic style and the 2 diagonal red stripes add flash to this classic look. The Greek lettering celebrates the creation of Ralph Lauren with EST MCMLXVII (1967), the POLO lettering is a tradition of an insignia of this style. This design was the start of what would later become the Polo Crest Fragrance and accessories. The details within this icon add to the graphic and have earned it the title of the POLO Crest.

The Red Line sweater is part of the P-Wing series, released in 1992 as part of the Stadium collection. The size Medium boat neck cotton sweater features a felt varsity style P-Wing patch on the chest. The piece earned its nickname referring to the red stripes on both arms. Considered among collectors to be rarest piece within the entire P-Wing series, this sweater is more rare and more coveted than even the cream P-Wing rings knit. The powerful icon and the stripes on the arms have earned this piece the title of The Red Line.

The Red Cashmere Martini Bear sweater was released in 1992 and was the first bear sweater to use cashmere materials. Previously Bear sweaters were only wool or cotton. This sweater was so rare, that among collectors in the late 90’s there was discussion if the sweater even existed as no one wore it or had pictures of it. Despite the urban legend, this sweater was actually featured on the back cover of the Polo Holiday 1992 catalog with a $1495 retail price. The sweater was named for the Bear who holds a Martini glass, while wearing a tuxedo, and tuxedo slippers featuring the RL insignia. There are two versions of this sweater, the turtleneck from the catalog, and the crew neck seen here. This sweater was produced with suit sizing, the inside size label is a 44, equivalent to an XL. Often compared to the Grey Cashmere Bear sweater from 1994, this version is more luxurious, rare and high end. This is the original Red Cashmere Martini Bear.

The Red Stadium Hat was released in 1992 as part of the Stadium series. Considered to be one of the rarest hats and the best of the three Stadium hats, because it’s the only one with printed lettering on the bill. This Made in USA, one size fits all elastic back long bill hat is a true classic among the collection. Featuring the 1992 printed on the bill, the RL67 printed patch sewn on the front crown, “AMERICA” printed on the right panel, with an embroidered American flag (referred to by collectors as the K-Swiss icon, named for its similarity to the K-Swiss logo), the “POLO printed on the back panels, and the printed Stadium patch sewn to the left panel. All of these details have earned this piece the distinct title of The Red Stadium Hat.

The Snow Beach Vest is part of the Snow Beach series released in 1994. This size Medium vest features Polartec fleece lining and zipper pockets. The vest is more rare than the Snow Beach “Raekwon” jacket. Among collectors in the 90’s the Beach vest was one of the first pieces to have a higher price tag compared to other pieces from the era. The dark navy blue silk screen printed SNOW on the front and BEACH on the back match the fleece lining and create the exclamation point of the Snow Beach series. The embroidered HI Tech patch on the chest aligns this vest with other Polo pieces from the Polo Hi Tech series, but it is the American Flag Snow Beach patch that give this piece the name the Snow Beach vest.

The Rasta Tank was released as part of the 1992 Stadium series. It is rumored that Jamaican Polo collectors in the early 90’s gave this piece it’s nickname based on the colors resembling the Jamaican flag and bright colored tank tops worn by Rastafarians during the ‘92 era. Pieces like these gave birth to the vibrant colors seen years later by brands like Cross Colors. The heavy knit colorful cotton, and multi-color embroidered POLO stitching make this piece stand out from the rest of the Stadium series, but it is the 1992 printed plates patch that has made this a collectors item. There is a similar design with white rings around the arm bands of this Made in USA size XL tank top; that design is rumored to be the Japanese version of the piece. Often reminiscent to the funky colorful clothing from the film “Cool Runnings” from the same ‘92 season, this has and will always be the Rasta Tank.

The Downtown Grey Cashmere Bear sweater is one of the most coveted pieces in this collection. Released in 1994, nicknamed the Downtown Bear because of the Bear’s dress code resembling the cool downtown New York art gallery look. Also nicknamed the G bear referring to the $1000+ retail price, and the $1000+ resale value. The size Large turtleneck sweater features soft cashmere material and the Bear wears a sleek black suit and loafers. This piece saw a rebirth in 2003 when rapper Fabolous wore the sweater in the music video for his song Baby. The sweater worn in the video was a rental from this collection. This is the actual sweater Fabolous wore in the video. If the Red Cashmere is an Ace, this version is a King. Not to be in the same category as the sit down bears, ski bears, or the executive bears, this is the Downtown Grey Cashmere Bear.

The Snow Beach backpack is part of the Snow Beach/Cold Wave series and is probably the most rare and sought after accessory of the entire vintage Polo collection. The size of the bag is small compared to other items in the Snow Beach series. It is rumored that the one size fits all bag might have been for the boys section, to go with the boys Snow Beach “Raekwon” Pullover, that only had enough space to print the word “SNOW.” The colorblocking and the design make this bag one of most rare pieces within the Snow Beach mini-collection, earning this piece the name The Snow Beach Backpack.

The Cold Wave Pants were released in 1994 as part of the Snow Beach series. While the Snow Beach “Raekwon” jacket is one of the most famous Polo pieces, the Cold Wave pants are much more rare and exclusive. These size Large pants have a loose baggy fit, which was fitting for the era; most of the Snow Beach series was made to be oversized. The series was designed as a SnowBoarding collection, during a time when the new sport was just starting to get some media hype into the mainstream winter sports scene. The nylon tech pants feature padded back and knee panels, zipper pockets, Polo Sport patch on the back pocket, but it is the silk screened letters that give this piece the name The Cold Wave Pants.

The Silk Crest is a celebration of Royalty meets Wild Style. The design features sailing flags, color blocked panels and the Ralph Lauren crest. Originally released as a women’s piece, this size large is the biggest size available. This piece was one of the first items that the original Lo-Lifes stole, wore and posed with in group photos. The colors are vibrant, the silk is smooth and the Ralph Lauren name in the right corner is reminiscent of silk scarves of the era. Not to be confused with the Barbershop Silk featuring a similar Navy and Red design, this version is also not the short sleeve version that is rumored to have been altered because the long sleeves were not long enough for some buyers. Nicknames include the crown, or crizzy, but to the original Polo collectors this is only referred to as The Silk Crest.

“Slam!” Like the ONYX song from 1993, the graphics in this piece hit you in the face. The tennis player looks similar to Jimmy Connors who still played when this shirt released in the Summer of 1993. The green stripe with the POLO text resembles the top stripe of a tennis net, and the POLO letters on the white sneakers adds a nice feature to this character’s outfit. The cotton is soft, the print has no feel and the fit of this Made in USA XL is oversized. The neon tennis ball provides added color, contrasting against the black and white pencil style drawn athlete, but it’s because of the bold red text that lo heads refer to this garment as “The Slam Tee.”

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chuuteau · 7 years

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The Bonds that Break Us ~ Dazai Osamu & Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Did someone ask for angst? No. Yet here it is, spewing out of me like a fucking geyser. Feel like this had a lot of layers??Have I finally turned my stories into onions?? It's 2:08 and I haven't slept in three weeks. Might make a second part or a full story, idk, probably not because I suck. Spoiler most of the other stuff I have planned out is fucking angsty as hell too although it has happy endings, kinda sorta maybe.

Everything was so cold. You could feel the temperature drop and the shivers wracking your body. You couldn't tell why you were shaking. Cold, fear, rage, sorrow, shock, or some disgusting mix of all of them. The hair on the back of your neck was standing on end, and the silence that rang through your ears was deafening.

Fyodor stood there, the cold enough to make his bones ache, but he stood unwaveringly and without a single sign of vulnerability.

When Dazai had approached the empty alleys in the abandoned area of Yokohama, he was expecting it to just be him and Fyodor, as well as whoever the man set up to trap Dazai. It was going to be their final battle of wits, the defining moment to settle this war between them. Dazai didn't account for you showing up.

You were a beautiful Port Mafia agent, known for your powerful ability and closed off heart. You were ruthless and saw others as either beneficial or irrelevant. Iron walls surrounded you, and you carried out all of your tasks without a shred of emotion. But Dazai was the famous demon prodigy, and your walls were paper thin in his all seeing eyes.

His words charmed you, to say the least, his silver tongue caught you off-guard. But you were never one to easily accept someone, and the gleam in his eyes made you wary. He wooed you, weaseled his way into your routine and life until his presence had almost become part of your identity.

The two of you weren't lovers, the two of you had never put a label on your interactions, although sometimes you wondered. When his skin grazed against yours, even for simple things like grabbing a pen, you felt as if you were on fire. When you leaned against him after he invited himself into your home without permission, you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch in his throat.

It broke your heart when he felt the Port Mafia, and the only sense of familiarity was pulled out from under you, sending you crashing down. The barriers he had craftily passed through became more solid than ever, and the blood that stained your hands only accumulated as you threw yourself into your assignments.

The tenderness he had given you in his looks had to be forgotten, instead you just had to remember was the expressions of hatred and blood lust your targets gave you.

Your ability would no longer be beautiful like he said it was, it must go back to being nothing more than a tool to slaughter.

When Dazai left you behind, it was like he took the human part of you with him. If you had known how much he wanted to take you with him, you would have cried. You never spoke to each other again, and there were only brief glimpses on the street.

You heard he had defected to the Armed Detective Agency, and that he had changed into a different person. You tried so hard not to listen. The less you knew the better, and if that made you an ignorant fool, you were more than willing to take on that label.

Fyodor had heard rumors of you floating around, and when he finally looked into your records, he was intrigued. The files were vague, you were almost a ghost. All he had to go on was an impressive kill count and a few blurry pictures of your ability picked up on traffic cameras. You were a valuable asset to him, and he wanted you to play right into his hands.

He meticulously planned out everything, this moment where he would finally have everyone exactly where he wanted them. The genius had crafted this series of events so he could break you apart, and when you were completely exposed, put you back together in a way where you would never be able to recover from his influence.

When Dazai entered that ally, he knew there would be a trap waiting for him. He wasn't surprised when he sensed another presence above him. 'A sniper. If he hits me, I'll just make sure it's in a non-vital spot,' he thought to himself, unconcerned by the assassins presence. Fyodor stood ahead of him, his eyes unreadable, but Dazai could sense an air of confidence.

This was truly the ultimate battle, two prodigies ahead of their time going head to head, all other things were irrelevant. No words had been spoken between the two men, the thick silence said everything they needed to know.

His spine stiffened when he heard footsteps tapping down the ally behind him, he could easily recognize your distinct walking pattern.

The same feet that would patter down his apartment hall in the middle of the night for a glass of water after he managed to convince you to spend the night with him.

The footsteps that hesitated by the edge of his bed when you returned as you wondered if this was really normal like he had said.

The slippers you would kick off onto the floor as he cajoled you into crawling back between the sheets.

The legs that tangled with his when he pretended to be asleep and wrapped his arms around you like it was nothing more than something any acquaintance would do.

When Fyodor sent him a smile, casual but terrifying, Dazai whipped around to face you. Your face was as closed off as when he first met you, but the second your eyes locked, there was something there. Your (e/c) orbs displayed how you crumbled at the sight of him, and what Dazai hope was affection.

The gleam of the barrel was in the corner of his eye, and he put his body in front of yours, moving on instinct. He wanted to protect you. His survival and safety were number one. But when it came to you, priorities just didn't seem to work they way they used to.

The bullet tore through his chest. The flesh and bone that was ripped apart in the path of the unforgiving metal were in agony. He tilted forward, and you reached out to catch him.

His breathing was labored, and blood leaked from his gasping mouth. Dazai could feel the fluids building up in his punctured lung, and breathing felt like a challenge he wasn't sure he wanted to undertake.

As your arms steadied him, and your eyes grew wild with panic, another shot rang out. The sniper was a professional and didn't let the chance escape from him to take out the vulnerable bandaged man.

The air had already started to get colder as another bullet tore through one of his arteries, lodging near the organ he wished he had admitted long ago belonged to you.

You sank to your knees, supporting him on your lap. The temperature of the atmosphere kept dropping as you pressed your hands against his cheeks, looking into his chocolate pools that you used to drown in.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to take you with me," Dazai said with an apologetic smile.

You know what he was really trying to tell you when he said that. He knew that you knew, as a wave of emotion surged on to your face. He had never really been one for sentiments, and this was the closest thing to a confession that you'd ever receive from the elusive man.

His eyes slid shut, the galaxies you saw in them dying out as his ragged breathing no longer reached your ears.

The air was frigid, and ice had already started to coat the ground around your hunched body. It crept out along the paved street, crawling up the sides of buildings, coating the area in a white sheen.

You clung to Dazai, tears starting to drip down onto his face as you stared at him. You were experiencing more emotions swirling around inside of you now than you had felt in your entire lifetime.

The silence was the most oppressive things you had ever felt, and you felt as though you were suffering. Your breath created small clouds, and you felt your body start to go numb.

Fyodor stepped back, out of range as you let out a wail. All of your feelings had died out, and the only thing you had now was raw despair coursing through you. As you screamed out, sharp, jagged crystals erupted from the frost you had emitted. They coated the area, shielding you and the barely warm body you clung on to like a lifeline.

Razor sharp geysers protected you from the rest of the world, but what else was there left for you to protect? Your own well being was far from your mind.

The sniper was gone, his body torn apart by your outburst. Fyodor had one thing scratch on his arm, blood trickling down the appendage and falling from his fingertips. He was smiling nonchalantly as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The only possible man who could rival him had been wiped off this plane of existence, and a powerful ally was waiting for him to rip apart like a piece of prey.

He couldn't lie to himself in thinking he was just interested in your ability. He couldn't deceive himself into thinking that he didn't see something in you besides potential.

The stoic mask you usually wore irritated him. Seeing it crumble sent a jolt of exhilaration through his body. He looked forward to seeing the other faces you would make whole he had you wrapped around his finger.

Since he discovered your existence, your fates had been inescapably intertwined. The red strings that were your lives had been tied into a knot, and he was planning on choking you with your own thread.

Fyodor's hands were warm against your face, and you let your arms fall to your sides, your empty eyes looking to him. He could practically taste the desperation, and he used his thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

You were spent, you were tired. Like an animal caught in a noose, you had exhausted yourself and no longer had the energy to fight what was about to happen. You couldn't resist it, so you embraced it.

You lifted your hands to cover his, gripping onto his warmth as the one in your lap faded.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray sogs #dazai osamu #fyodor dosteyevsky #reader insert #xreader #angst #ANGST FUCK DAMN

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singingunderthecurtain · 7 years

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Somewhere In My Sleep Part 4 (Kyungsoo Series)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) Mini Masterlist

Author: @julietsoddeye AU: Cannon/EXO Universe Genre: Fantasy | Fluff | Smut | Angst Pairing: Do Kyungsoo x Unnamed OC (Iris) Trigger Warning: Nightmares, Probably wrong representation of Greek Mythology, Mythical and Evil creatures. Word Count: 1,426

Plot: You were given the ability to Astral Project (Out of body experience) by a deity and you meet a faceless soul of a woman in the 4D world who guides you through the experience. But you are given only 1 hour of your day to ‘spend time’ with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo sometimes remembers you, but it’s mostly hazy since his job being an Idol doesn’t give him the most peaceful sleep. You and Kyungsoo met accidentally one day and he becomes curious of you.

You stay afloat there not moving, afraid that he will act violently if you did. You can feel your heart beat going crazy, about to jump out of your ribcage. You didn’t know it’s possible since you’re just a mere ghost but that’s a sign that you are, indeed, still alive. He was still transfixed to where you were floating and you’re still not moving. But after a few minutes, you heard him sigh; you dare not look at him just yet.

“That was a weird dream…” When he mentioned those words to himself, you looked at him and he is now crawling out of his bed. He grumbles to himself as he wore his black slippers lazily.

“He can’t see me now.” You sigh in relief silently and followed him outside. Good thing he left his bedroom door open, you’re still not comfortable going through walls even though you have done it already. You’re still not used to these new things you’re currently experiencing.

“Why are you guys still awake? It’s 2 AM.” Kyungsoo questions no one in particular as he was pouring himself a glass of water. Before he drinks it, you saw his eyebrows thread and he shakes his head as if trying to remember something.

“I’m trying to convince them that they can’t beat me in this game.” You looked to your left and saw Chanyeol and Suho were engrossed in a video game, shouting cries of random ‘yahs’ and other curses while violently shaking the controllers of a gaming console they were using. Sehun was the only one looking at Kyungsoo as he was not playing the game along the two older males. “Why are you still awake?” He countered Kyungsoo’s question.

“I was sleeping. I just woke up from a dream and got thirsty.” He answered the younger man after a loud sigh of quenched thirst after downing the tall glass of water in one swift gulp.

“Was it a wet dream, Hyung?” Sehun wiggled his thick eyebrows up and down knowingly.

“Shut up Sehun!” Kyungsoo shot the younger boy with a menacing look for a moment before his eyes fall into a soft retreat. Sehun felt his friend’s unease and stood up from where he was seated to comfort Kyungsoo.

“Are you okay?” He asks Kyungsoo who was now putting out ingredients from the fridge.

“Are you hungry, I suddenly can’t sleep?” He busied himself, ignoring the Younger's inquiry. You lowered yourself to their level to have a closer look at Kyungsoo and your heart swells from the stress you know he is currently feeling.

“Are you okay???” He asked again, more stern this time. Sehun locked Kyungsoo’s wrist inside his hand and he stopped and sighed again for the nth time tonight.

“Yeah… Just a little tired, that’s all.” He smiled assuringly and by the looks of it, the younger one bought it and let him do what he wants to do.

“Then why don’t you go back to sleep?” The taller one purses his lips in a fine line and climbs up the kitchen counter as he watches Kyungsoo prepare the ingredients.

“I can’t sleep anymore. What do you want to eat?” Kyungsoo looks up at Sehun with a small smile; you notice his heart-shaped mouth is not quite heart-shaped today. You thought maybe you disturbed his sleep.

“What are you planning on cooking?” Sehun answered with another question.

“Kimchi Bokeumbap,” Kyungsoo answered monotonously.

“Then I wanna eat Kimchi Bokeumbap!” Sehun clapped his hands once and gave the smaller guy a big grin to cheer him up.

---

“Oooooh. Kyungsoo, your cooking has gotten better!” Chanyeol, the honorary chef of EXO, gave Kyungsoo a thumb’s up after devouring a big bite of freshly cooked Kimchi fried rice. Steam from the heat of the food blew out his mouth as he talked. You noticed finally, Kyungsoo’s pretty heart-shaped lips are out.

“The coating of the red pepper paste on the rice is equal this time.” Suho, EXO’s leader, compliments as he takes a careful bite, not wanting to burn his tongue with the hot rice.

“What do you know Hyung? You don’t even know how to cook rice!!!” Sehun complained at the older one and Suho shoots daggers at him.

“What do you know about cooking, Sehun-ah?” Suho returns with an equally sour statement.

As you were enjoying the random banters between your favorite boys, you were suddenly gets pulled again at the speed of light, the same that took you to Kyungsoo. Your one hour with him was up. You knew it was up and instead of getting scared of the feeling of being pulled, you just keep sighing as it happens.

So this is what it feels like to be taken away from the one you love, you’ve never experienced that before, but it feels the same, you thought.

And with that, you’re back to where you were before you were taken to Kyungsoo. You wanted more of him, you wanted to stay by him and just look at his beautiful face all night. You keep thinking about him but nothing was happening. You tried concentrating, but to no avail, you just stayed where you are.

You felt your tears started to well up on the corners of your eyes, the sting from your heart felt inevitable, just as much as the sting of the incoming tears you felt on your throat and nostril. You tried sighing but it just made your tears fall with no control. You started floating back to your apartment building now as you cry nonstop.

“Good things always end.” You whisper to yourself. You didn’t even notice that you just went through a wall. Your pain is scarier now than the wall you were so afraid a while ago.

You’ve only seen him once tonight, but you’re already attached to him as if you’ve been friends forever. It felt like it, at least to your heart it does. Other than Ahyoung and your Aunt, you do not have anybody in your life that cheers you up.

Kyungsoo cheers you up a lot, especially those funny internet videos about him and EXO you watch every night on Youtube before you sleep. Those videos are your reward for a job well done every day for trying not to wallow in self-pity whenever you get lonely for no reason.

“You have to get back there!” You stopped in your tracks when you heard the ugliest, most hideous sound you heard in your life. It was similar to the many voices you heard while you were projecting out of your physical body. This one though, the sound of the voice is so deep it’s like it came from the pits of hell. Like the voice of a heavy smoker who has been addicted to nicotine all their lives, but ten times worst.

And when you looked at your bed, where your body lays, you saw it. A beastly creature of half man and half goat. The creature is squatting on your bed beside your body, it was too close for comfort and you’re not even inside your body yet.

“W—what are you?” Your voice was small and you felt it tremble with fear you have never known before.

“You love him right? Go back to him!” The beast taunts you. It knows about Kyungsoo too, you thought to yourself? Can it see right through you like the Gods can?

“W—what do you… What do you mean?” You keep stammering your words, afraid you might say something wrong and it might attack your body.

“The boy… You love him right? Go back to him and give me your body. You can’t come back in your body yet, I need it.” The creature tried touching your body but it sparked where it touched you. And his finger steamed with smoke from the contact.

You saw a single hair-thin silver cord twinkled; you followed where it led and it was connected at your back from your physical body’s chest. The unsightly creature also saw it and tried touching it, but it sparked again and it was bigger this time.

The half man, half goat went flying across your bedroom because of the flicker from the silver cord. You hurriedly dove to your body and you jarred from your sleep. You catch your breath as if you just rise from a pool of water. You feel your lungs expand with every gasp you take.

And to that, your noisy alarm clock started beeping, almost scaring you half to death.

#Kyungsoo #Do #Kyungsoo D.O #D.O EXO #EXO D.O #D.O Do Kyungsoo #D.O Kyungsoo #EXO smut #EXO fanfictions #EXO fanfic #D.O Fanfic #D.O Fanfictions #D.O smut #EXO fluff #D.O fluff #D.O x OC #OC #Original Character

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my-fidel-dreemurr · 7 years

Text

Hybridtale: Chapter 1.

Hybridtale Chapter one

Frisk knew that they had done a lot of things ever since coming to the underground. They had been saving and reloading each time they died or if they saved everyone from Flowery, who had turned out to be the son of the King and former Queen of the underground, Asgore and his ex-wife Toriel. Frisk had fought Asriel in both his God form and his true form and he had released everyone but he himself couldn't be saved. No matter what Frisk did they couldn't save him. Thus, they started a cycle they would use their ability to 'Save' and 'Reload' and start over trying their very best to save the small goat child.

But it was for not, as no matter what the determined child did they couldn't save their friend. In a fit of despair and anger at themselves when they 'Reloaded' once again they had done something they had never thought possible.

They had done the one route they swore they would never do.

The Genocide route.

It had started as an accident. They had been fighting Toriel once again, trying to leave the ruins so that they could go through and try and save Asriel, but they had gotten frustrated and in their frustration they had taken out the toy knife and had lashed out. It took but a single blow to kill their mother and the horror that had filled Frisk's face was immense. They were scared. They hadn't meant to kill her! They were just ready to 'Reload' when they had felt it.

The feeling of their LV of violence fill them giving them Exp. They wanted to reload, they truly did, but they felt 'Determined' to kill more, and so they did. They went through the underground, killing monster after monster.

First starting off in Snowdin, where they killed the 'great' Papyrus. When he had tried to get them to see the errors of their ways and get them to stop, they sliced off his head and then crushed it under their foot.

They went on to Waterfall killing monsters left and right, collecting a layer of dust on their toy knife. Then a monster kid came and tried to stop them. They meant to kill him, only to be stopped by Undyne, who had taken the killing blow.

The leader of the royal guard had told the kid to run, telling him that she would fight them. Once the kid had left, Undyne's body began to break apart and Frisk left, but the fish woman didn't die. Instead, she had transformed using the one thing that monsters themselves couldn't use.

Determination.

Using her Determination, Undyne had transformed from her regular form to her Undyne, 'The Undying'. That had been the toughest fight Frisk had with a boss monster. Undyne's magic spears came flying faster and in more numbers. She could send them flying at Frisk one way only for the to turn around and try to attack Frisk from another side.

Despite her boost in power, and even her HP and defense, Undyne killed herself. Determination, while a great power for monsters, was a double edged sword as it broke the monsters' bodies down and caused them not to dust, but to melt. When Frisk felt the final blow, they watched as Undyne laughed and smiled despite the fact she was melting. When her form was gone her soul remained for a short second before shattering.

Frisk moved to Hotland and looked for more monsters, but they had all been evacuated thanks to the help of Doctor Alphys, the lead scientist of the underground. Even if most monsters had left, the ghost in the metal shell, Mettaton, who had wanted to kill them and take their soul, stayed. He even went so far as to use his battle form that was dubbed 'Mettaton Ex'. He thought he could kill them. All it took was a single blow to kill the animatronic, who fell to pieces.

They moved on killing more and more monsters until they came to the castle, where they were now fighting their best friend.

Sans, the skeleton.

The hall of judgment, or 'Judgment Hall', was filled with scorch marks, blood stains and craters. There were bones, both white and blue, stabbed into multiple areas of the once beautiful hall. Standing at opposite ends were two different figures.

One was a child with short cut brown hair. They had on a purple and blue striped sweater, along with blue shorts and brown shoes. In the child's hands was a large butcher knife that had a silver colored blade with a thick layer of dust along the edge. Around their neck was a golden heart shaped locket. The child's eyes were open, showing their dull whine colored orbs.

This is the seventh soul needed to break the barrier to let monsters leave the underground.

The child of Determination.

This was Frisk.

Standing across from them was a skeleton who was an inch taller than Frisk. The skeleton wore a blue hooded jacket with fur around the hood along with a white shirt, black shorts and furry slippers. The skeleton's right eye was glowing blue with a trail of wispy blue energy leaking from it. Floating behind the skeleton were floating heads that looked draconian in origin. Each having white eyes and their jaws open, smoke trailing from them.

This was Sans the skeleton, the second to last boss monster in the underground, older brother to Papyrus, and judge of Judgement Hall.

The two stood there, both panting heavily from their fight, both were exhausted. ...At least sans was. Frisk, on the other hand, knew that if they died, they could reload and start the fight over. But they wanted to end this once and for all. Gritting their teeth, Fisk charged at Sans swinging their knife aiming at his chest.

Sans dogged once again by teleporting to the side and retailed with a blast of energy from his Gaster blaster. Frisk cursed and skipped backwards, avoiding the blast. "Ugh... That being said" said Sans as his Gaster blaster returned to his side, "You, uh, really like swinging that thing around." Sweat dripped down Sans' skull.

"...Listen" said Sans as he closed his eyes, his hands still in his pocket. "I know you didn't answer me before, but, somewhere in there, I can feel it." Sans opened his eyes showing that ther were back to normal, two black sockets with white pin pupils.

"There's a glimmer of a good person inside of you, the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing." He said, closing his eyes. Frisk's hands curled around their knife as they tried to keep a tight grip on their weapon, but they found themselves with tears filling their eyes. "Someone who, in another time, might have even been... A friend?"

The tears were running down Frisk's face as they felt the sins crawling down their back as the happy memories from the previous timelines appeared in their mind.

Sans' ever present smile was smaller now. "C'mon, buddy, do you remember me?" Frisk eyes filled with more tears as their hand holding the knife began to shake. "Please. If you're listening let's forget all this, ok?" Frisk found themselves nodding and Sans smiled with his right eye open his left closed.

"Just lay down your weapon and-" The blade dropped from their hand and clattered along the tile floor. "Well, my job will be a lot easier." Frisk knew Sans was sparing them. He wanted this all to end. Just as Frisk did.

"Don't do it!" hissed the voice inside Frisk mind, "Don't believe that fucking comedian! Grab the knife and kill him!" Frisk ignored the voice and opened his arms and gave Sans a tearful smile.

Sans' smile widened as he saw that the kid was sparing him. "You're sparing me?" He let out a small laugh. "Finally." he winked at Frisk. "Buddy. Pal. I know how hard it must be, to make that choice," Frisk nodded at him, "to go back on everything you've worked up to." Sans opened both eyes. "I want you to know, I won't let it go to waste." Sans opened his arms, smiling. "C'mere, pal." Frisk ran over and embraced sans in a hug, tears staining his coat.

Sans smiled, but his white eyes vanished, leaving black sockets. Below them the ground glowed as a large bone shot through the ground and stabbed Frisk through the chest and out the top of their head, spraying blood along the floor and turning the, once white, bone red. Frisk coughed up blood as they felt their HP depleting rapidly before their soul shattered and their body went lifeless.

Their eyes turned from wine red to brown before they turned empty and their arms fell lifeless at their sides. Sans held the kid despite the tears falling from his own eyes. "Get...dunked on." Sans whispered loudly through his tears. "If we're really friends, you won't come back."

Frisk floated in a black void, looking at two floating buttons. One said 'Continue', while the other said 'Reset'. Their hand hovered over the 'Continue' button, but it slowly lowered and moved towards the 'Reset' button. Before they could even press it another hand grabbed Frisk's wrist.

"What the hell are you doing?!" screamed a voice, making Frisk wince. The voice belonged to another child, this one looking similar to Frisk in appearance, but had a few key differences. Where Frisk's eyes were brown with a wine colored tint, this child's eyes were as red as blood. On the child's cheek were two pink circles. Unlike Frisk's purple and blue striped sweater, this child's was green with a light green stripes.

This was the first fallen child, the second child of the King and Queen, sibling of Asriel, the demon that comes when it's name is called.

This Chara Dreemurr.

Frisk looked at chara in surprise. "I'm resetting" they said in a calm voice despite the fear they felt "this....this was wrong I should have reset at the beginning.....Toriel....Papyrus......Undyne, everyone" said frisk as they felt tears falling down their eyes. "I'm going to make this right, I'm going to reset and are sure a genocide route never happens again" frisk eyes were filled with a familiar gleam that they had ever since coming to the underground, they were filled with...Determination.

Chara's eyes were filled with anger in accordance to frisk's determination. "Do you really think it's that simple!" Roared the first fallen child. "All our hard work! All our goals! And for what just so you can go and give them a happy ending!" Chara's voice had reached a new level of screeching that the black void seem to shake. "You think that you can just go back on all that we did? On all that you did" snarled the second child of the Dreemurr family as they squeezed frisk wrist tighter.

Fisk winced and was able to yank their wrist from chara's hand. "This isn't right and you know it" yelled frisk. "You once wanted to save monsters and help them break the barrier, and now you want them and humans to die!" Frisk gave chara a look of pity. "What happen to you chara?" Chara's glare intensified to the point their red eyes were blazing like San's own right eye.

"You think you can judge me!? Like that worthless bag of bones of a comedian?!" Shrieked the red eyed child. "Do you think you have control? That you are above the consequences of your actions?!" Chara's eyes bleed a strange black liquid substance, and they gave frisk a smile the same black substance leaking from their mouth, in chara's hand was the knife that frisk had used before only the blade was glowing a deep crimson red that glowed eerily in the black void. "Since when were you the one in control!?" Hissed chara and lunged at frisk. Eyes widen frisk held their hand out and grabbed the worn dagger and blocked chara's attack creating a shower of sparks that lit up the black void.

Chara glared at frisk eyes black as tar with two glowing red orbs in the center, they pushed down harder on frisk worn dagger wanting more than anything to kill frisk take their soul and erase the world once and for all. Frisk struggled to hold off chara's attack as they tried to push back but fell to one knee.

"Give it up frisk!" Yelled chara as they slashed their knife down but frisk roles to the side and lashed out with their own knife, chara's laughed echoed as their body flashed like static and they were gone, frisk looked around before their sense of danger flared and they dogged rolled to the left to avoid a arc of energy.

Chara had a sinister smirk on their face as they slashed their knife again, another blade of energy flying from their knife, frisk eyes widen as they did their best to doge the arcs of energy, frisk ran towards chara his knife in hand and jumped into the air bring their knife down, chara smiled at the cute attempt to hurt them before they vanished.

Frisk landed on the ground and looked around once again, a bright red glow came from behind them and struck frisk across the back. Frisk cried out in pain as they felt their Hp drop to one, they bounced across the floor and skidded to a stop their weapon skidding off into the blackness of the void.

Chara giggled red eyes glowing. "You lose frisk" they walked forward with a little skip in their step twirling their knife. "I'll take your soul and kill that skeleton, then the old man, and then I will personally rip off flowery no Asriel's petals before I kill him" the fallen child let out a childish giggle that would have sound cute if it weren't so twisted and dark. Frisk look at chara and gave a pained laugh if their own. Chara looked at frisk and hissed. "And what is so funny?!"

"The fact that you think you won"

Chara's eyes widen as they saw frisk's hands on the reset button which had appeared behind them. "No!" Roared the demon child as their knife glowed and they pointed it at frisk and fired off a blast of energy. Frisk smiled and slammed their hand on the button and the black void was filled with a bright white light, just as the orb struck and chara screamed in anger before everything went white.

#undertalr #AU Hybridtale

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dweemeister · 7 years

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A list of all films featured in 2017′s 31 Days of Oscar

This is the exhaustive list of all 400 short- and feature-length films featured during this year’s 31 Days of Oscar marathon.The mark of 400 is down from 410 in 2016′s ceremony and up from 323 in 2014 and 170 in 2013. Best Picture or Unique and Artistic Picture winners are in bold. Asterisked (*) films are films I haven’t seen in their entirety as of the publishing of this post.

The Gold Rush (1925)

Chang: A Drama of the Wilderness (1927)*

The Patent Leather Kid (1927)*

Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927)

Two Arabian Knights (1927)*

Wings (1927)

The Crowd (1928)

In Old Arizona (1928)*

Speedy (1928)

White Shadows in the South Seas (1928)*

A Woman of Affairs (1928)

The Bridge of San Luis Rey (1929)*

The Broadway Melody (1929)

The Love Parade (1929)*

All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)

The Big House (1930)

The Dawn Patrol (1930)*

Min and Bill (1930)*

Morocco (1930)*

The Right to Love (1930)*

Arrowsmith (1931)*

Grand Hotel (1932)

What Price Hollywood? (1932)*

Flying Down to Rio (1933)*

42nd Street (1933)

Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933)

The Prizefighter and the Lady (1933)*

Flirtation Walk (1934)*

The Gay Divorcee (1934)

Imitation of Life (1934)*

The Lost Patrol (1934)*

Of Human Bondage (1934)

The Richest Girl in the World (1934)*

Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

Captain Blood (1935)

Folies Bergère de Paris (1935)*

The Informer (1935)*

Top Hat (1935)

Camille (1936)*

Dodsworth (1936)

The Garden of Allah (1936)

General Spanky (1936)*

The Great Ziegfeld (1936)

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)

San Francisco (1936)*

Swing Time (1936)

The Good Earth (1937)

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

Shall We Dance (1937)

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

Wee Willie Winkie (1937)*

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Alexander’s Ragtime Band (1938)

Mother Goose Goes Hollywood (1938 short)

Drums Along the Mohawk (1939)*

Gone with the Wind (1939)

Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939)

Gulliver’s Travels (1939)

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)

Ninotchka (1939)

Stagecoach (1939)

Abe Lincoln in Illinois (1940)

Boom Town (1940)*

The Grapes of Wrath (1940)

The Great McGinty (1940)*

Kitty Foyle (1940)*

Pinocchio (1940)

Rebecca (1940)

The Sea Hawk (1940)

The Thief of Bagdad (1940)

Dumbo (1941)

The Flame of New Orleans (1941)*

Hold Back the Dawn (1941)*

How Green Was My Valley (1941)

The Lady Eve (1941)

Topper Returns (1941)*

Bambi (1942)

Casablanca (1942)

George Washington Slept Here (1942)*

I Married a Witch (1942)*

The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)

Now, Voyager (1942)

To Be or Not to Be (1942)

The War Against Mrs. Hadley (1942)*

Cabin in the Sky (1943)

The Constant Nymph (1943)*

Five Graves to Cairo (1943)*

Madame Curie (1943)

The Song of Bernadette (1943)

Watch on the Rhine (1943)*

Double Indemnity (1944)

Gaslight (1944)

Hail the Conquering Hero (1944)

Home in Indiana (1944)

How to Play Football (1944 short)

Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)

Blithe Spirit (1945)*

Donald’s Crime (1945 short)*

The Lost Weekend (1945)

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945)

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)

Humoresque (1946)*

The Yearling (1946)

The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947)

Black Narcissus (1947)

Body and Soul (1947)

Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)*

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)

Good News (1947)

Bicycle Thieves (1948, Italy)

Hamlet (1948)

I Remember Mama (1948)

Portrait of Jennie (1948)

Red River (1948)

Wet Blanket Policy (1948 short)*

Adam’s Rib (1949)

The Hasty Heart (1949)*

The Heiress (1949)*

Look for the Silver Lining (1949)*

Mighty Joe Young (1949)*

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949)

Twelve O’Clock High (1949)*

All About Eve (1950)

The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

The Gunfighter (1950)

Harvey (1950)

The African Queen (1951)*

An American in Paris (1951)

Royal Wedding (1951)

Strangers on a Train (1951)

The Bad and the Beautiful (1952)

Forbidden Games (1952, France)*

High Noon (1952)

The Quiet Man (1952)

The Romance of Transportation in Canada (1952 short)

Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

Calamity Jane (1953)

I Vitelloni (1953, Italy)*

Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday (1953, France)*

Ugetsu Monogatari (1953, Japan)

The Caine Mutiny (1954)

Carmen Jones (1954)*

Magnificent Obsession (1954)

Rear Window (1954)

Sabrina (1954)*

Seven Samurai (1954, Japan)

Them! (1954)

Interrupted Melody (1955)*

It’s Always Fair Weather (1955)

Around the World in Eighty Days (1956)

The Brave One (1956)*

The Captain from Köpenick (1956, West Germany)*

Friendly Persuasion (1956)*

The King and I (1956)

Lust for Life (1956)

Qivitoq (1956, Denmark)*

The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957)

Perri (1957)

12 Angry Men (1957)

The Big Country (1958)

The Defiant Ones (1958)

Gigi (1958)

Torpedo Run (1958)*

Vertigo (1958)

Ben-Hur (1959)

Black Orpheus (1959, Brazil)

The Great War (1959, Italy)*

Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959, France)*

Imitation of Life (1959)

The Nun’s Story (1959)

Porgy and Bess (1959)*

Some Like It Hot (1959)

Exodus (1960)*

Inherit the Wind (1960)

Spartacus (1960)

La Dolce Vita (1960, Italy)*

The Magnificent Seven (1960)

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

Divorce Italian Style (1961, Italy)*

The Parent Trap (1961)

Through a Glass Darkly (1961, Sweden)*

West Side Story (1961)

Days of Wine and Roses (1962)

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

The Miracle Worker (1962)

The Music Man (1962)

Tlayucan (1962, Mexico)*

To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

The Birds (1963)

The Great Escape (1963)

This Sporting Life (1963)*

The Gospel According to St. Matthew (1964, Italy)*

A Hard Day’s Night (1964)

Kwaidan (1964, Japan)

My Fair Lady (1964)

The Pink Panther (1964)

Seven Days in May (1964)

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964)

The Unsinkable Molly Brown (1964)

Doctor Zhivago (1965)

The Shop on Main Street (1965, Czechoslovakia)*

The Sound of Music (1965)

A Thousand Clowns (1965)

The Battle of Algiers (1966, Algeria)

Seconds (1966)*

Casino Royale (1967)*

Cool Hand Luke (1967)

Divorce American Style (1967)*

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967)

The Happiest Millionaire (1967)*

In the Heat of the Night (1967)

Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967)*

Two for the Road (1967)*

The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967, France)

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968)

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (1968)*

Oliver! (1968)

The Subject Was Roses (1968)*

A Boy Named Charlie Brown (1969)

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1969)

Midnight Cowboy (1969)*

Z (1969, Algeria)

The Great White Hope (1970)*

Patton (1970)

Tristana (1970, Spain)*

Fiddler on the Roof (1971)

The French Connection (1971)

Shaft (1971)

Cabaret (1972)

Cries and Whispers (1972, Sweden)*

Live and Let Die (1973)

The Paper Chase (1973)

Robin Hood (1973)

Blazing Saddles (1974)

Claudine (1974)*

Phantom of the Paradise (1974)*

Young Frankenstein (1974)

Barry Lyndon (1975)

Dersu Uzala (1975, Soviet Union)

Farewell, My Lovely (1975)*

Jaws (1975)

Nashville (1975)*

Bound for Glory (1976)*

Carrie (1976)

Logan’s Run (1976)

Network (1976)

The Slipper and the Rose (1976)

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)

Saturday Night Fever (1977)

Star Wars (1977)

That Obscure Object of Desire (1977, Spain)*

Days of Heaven (1978)*

La Cage aux Folles (1978, France)*

Midnight Express (1978)*

Alien (1979)

Apocalypse Now (1979)

Best Boy (1979)

Kramer vs. Kramer (1979)

The Maids of Wilko (1979, Poland)*

Moonraker (1979)

The Muppet Movie (1979)

The Elephant Man (1980)

Mon oncle d'Amérique (1980, France)*

Ordinary People (1980)

Man of Iron (1981, Poland)*

On Golden Pond (1981)*

Poltergeist (1982)

Never Cry Wolf (1983)

Trading Places (1983)*

Amadeus (1984)

Purple Rain (1984)

Brazil (1985)

Ran (1985, Japan)

Otello (1986, Italy)*

Au Revoir Les Enfants (1987, France)

The Last Emperor (1987)

Mannequin (1987)*

Maurice (1987)*

The Princess Bride (1987)

Coming to America (1988)*

Rain Man (1988)

Stand and Deliver (1988)

Born on the Fourth of July (1989)

Glory (1989)

The Little Mermaid (1989)

Goodfellas (1990)

Hamlet (1990)*

Total Recall (1990)

Backdraft (1991)*

Boyz n the Hood (1991)*

The Fisher King (1991)*

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Aladdin (1992)

Unforgiven (1992)

The Fugitive (1993)*

Geronimo: An American Legend (1993)*

Jurassic Park (1993)

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)

Clear and Present Danger (1994)

Il Postino (1994, Italy)

Legends of the Fall (1994)

Quiz Show (1994)*

Babe (1995)

Mr. Holland’s Opus (1995)

DragonHeart (1996)

Hamlet (1996)

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

Star Trek: First Contact (1996)

Children of Heaven (1997, Iran)

Contact (1997)

The Horse Whisperer (1998)*

The Prince of Egypt (1998)

Shakespeare in Love (1998)

The Green Mile (1999)*

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000, Taiwan)

Ghost World (2001)*

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001)

Training Day (2001)

Dirty Pretty Things (2002)*

Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones (2002)

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)

The Aviator (2004)

Hotel Rwanda (2004)

Howl’s Moving Castle (2004, Japan)

Million Dollar Baby (2004)*

Vera Drake (2004)*

Capote (2005)

Water (2005, India)*

The Devil Wears Prada (2006)*

Dreamgirls (2006)

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006, Mexico)

In the Valley of Elah (2007)*

The Kite Runner (2007)

Persepolis (2007, France)

The Visitor (2007)*

Departures (2008, Japan)*

Doubt (2008)

Coraline (2009)

The Princess and the Frog (2009)

The Secret of Kells (2009)

Chico & Rita (2010, Spain)

The Illusionist (2010, France)

The King’s Speech (2010)

Tangled (2010)

Adam and Dog (2011 short)

The Artist (2011, France)

The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore (2011 short)

The Help (2011)

Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012)

Ernest & Celestine (2012, France/Belgium)

Head over Heels (2012 short)

Boy and the World (2013, Brazil)

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (2013, Japan)

Bear Story (2014 short, Chile)

The Dam Keeper (2014 short)

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)

Glen Campbell: I’ll Be Me (2014)*

Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)

Song of the Sea (2014)

X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

Carol (2015)*

Creed (2015)

Embrace of the Serpent (2015, Colombia)*

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Room (2015)

Spotlight (2015)

The 9 Academy Award nominees for Best Picture including the winner, Moonlight (2016)

The 15 Academy Award nominees in Best Animated, Documentary, and Live Action Short Film (2016)

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (2016)

Kubo and the Two Strings (2016)

Loving (2016)

Moana (2016)

My Life as a Zucchini (2016, Switzerland)

The Red Turtle (2016, France/Belgium/Japan)

Rogue One (2016)

Star Trek Beyond (2016)

#31 Days of Oscar

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