#《Visage》' The main attraction has arrived' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bailey-reaper · 3 years ago

Note

Barok getting roped into a Dance of Deduction by Herlock while out on an investigation. Either as the subject of the dance, or Herlock's dance partner.

Of Death & Deductions

Notes: Sorry it's taken me so long to get around to this one, anon - it's such an amusing premise and I've been trying to think of the best way to deliver it! Hopefully this offering is alright!

Content Warnings: Herlock. Sholmes.; Tia tries to create a Logic & Reasoning Spectacular; tries is the operative word...; I'm sorry Capcom.

"Mr. Reaper!"

Herlock announced his presence loudly and with dramatic flair as he threw himself through the Prosecutor's (thankfully open) window and rolled along the floor before hopping up to a stand before the man's desk.

". . ."

Barok was quietly penning a letter to the Attorney General's Office at the time, and his pen did not even flinch at the sudden appearance of the irksome detective. Instead, he ignored his 'guest' (lit. intruder) and continued with his work.

"What? No welcome?! Not even a cry of shock!? I'm disappointed... clearly I must redouble my efforts," Herlock folded his arms while looking thoughtful.

"... A novel suggestion," Barok said, not looking up from his letter, "But perhaps try the door next time and, shockingly, maybe arrange an appointment?"

Herlock arched an eyebrow, "That's far too boring, my good fellow!"

"Ah yes..." having finished his letter, Barok set the quill down and powdered the paper so the ink would take hold, "Silly me," he folded it in half, slipped it into an envelope and proceeded to seal it with wax, "... Fine. Why are you here?"

"I'm SO glad you asked! There has been a murder most foul not far from here, I wondered if you might wish to accompany me to the scene!"

Barok arched an eyebrow, wondering why the detective had come here to inform him rather than a policeman. Still, it would be remiss of him to ignore the problem, "Why didn't you say that sooner?"

"I've said it at the appropriate time, now let us be off ── posthaste!"

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

They arrived at Madam Tusspells in record time and went into the 'Law and Order' exhibition, where a number of prominent figures from the world of law were preserved in wax forever more - including Lord van Zieks himself.

He paid his own waxwork no heed, even though the corpse was collapsed before it.

"Now, dear fellow, everything is ready and thus it is time!"

"Time for what?" Barok asked, peering at the detective.

"Why!" Sholmes held up a finger and smiled, "Time for the main attraction that is Herlock Sholmes's 'Logic and Reasoning Spectacular'!!"

"... huh?"

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔇𝔢𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

..... The game is afoot!

𝔗opic 1: the victim's identity

Sholmes (somehow) casts a spotlight upon the corpse, "Firstly, we must consider the man's attire. He does not appear to be wearing a uniform that would identify him as a member of staff. The fact he is wearing a suit might point toward him being a member of the nobility, but no! Look at how ill-fitting his suit is and how he clearly ignores all good and proper fashion trends. Clearly this man is an undercover police officer!"

"Let me stop you there," Barok interjected, already annoyed by the monologue, "This man clearly is not a police officer."

"Oh ho! So the reaper waits for no one! You wish to correct my deductions ad lib? Well... it's unconventional, but very well Mr. Reaper! What's wrong with my deduction?"

"This," Barok held up a business card, "The man is a fine arts dealer by the name of Maurice De Lioncourt. It would appear he is here on a visit from France, given that he also has his passport on his person with corresponding details."

"Oh ho! Well, yes, that wraps this topic up rather nicely!" Sholmes exclaimed.

ℭonclusion: the man is an undercover policeman a fine arts dealer by the name 'Maurice de Lioncourt'!

"Onward, then! To the second deduction!"

"Do we have to?" Barok muttered.

Apparently the answer to that was a resounding yes--

𝔗opic 2: the cause of the victim's demise

"So that leaves but one mystery for us to unravel, my dour friend! How did this poor visitor to our shores meet his untimely end?! I believe the truth of the matter is plain as day and incredibly shocking!"

Barok sighed, knowing full well the answer was about to be mangled into some nonsensical drivel by the 'Great Detective', "... Do tell."

"It is obvious that this man is a thrill seeker! Those who deal in fine arts clearly enjoy the heart pounding terror that comes with purchasing works and not knowing whether they've secured a genuine article or a terrible fake! With that devil may care attitude, our poor victim came to the Madame Tusspells Museum of Waxworks with the intention of being entertained -- but clearly he got more than he bargained for when he came face to face with the terrifying visage of a real life vampire! The horrifyingly pallid and dour face no doubt sent him into the throes of a most awful shock, causing him to suffer a most sharp and unmistakably fatal heart attack!"

"OBJECTION!" Barok snarled, "Are you truly going to suggest that the man, upon seeing a wax work of me, went on to suffer a heart attack?!"

"Indubitably my good fellow! Yours is a face that strikes fear into the hearts of hardened criminals! Think what it would do to an innocent museum goer!"

"This ... is ridiculous!" Barok hissed as he glowered at the detective, "Your narrative is full of holes!"

"Oh ho is that so? Then do feel free to point out where I've gone wrong, good fellow!"

"First of all, you claim the man is a thrill seeker who enjoys being terrified but this is NOT the 'House of Horrors' where one would go to be thusly terrified! This is the Law and Order exhibit!"

"Well perhaps this terrifying waxwork of a vampire has been mistakenly placed in the Law and Order exhibition?" Holmes opined.

"It's a waxwork of ME, man! And I am not a vampire!" Barok shot back indignantly.

"I fear the jury is out on that one, Mr. Reaper, but I suppose it's true enough that you are a Prosecutor so your waxwork might well be placed in the Law and Order exhibit. Pray tell, then, if you claim this man did not suffer a fatal heart attack upon laying his eyes on your most formidable and imposing visage, what did kill him?"

"Oh I wonder... Perhaps the knife in his back?!"

ℭonclusion: the man suffered a heart attack upon seeing Prosecutor van Zieks' face was stabbed in the back with a knife!

𝔇𝔢𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔢!

....... Elementary!

"And thus concludes Herlock Sholmes's 'Logic and Reasoning Spectacular'!" Herlock announced proudly, before sighing and looking dismayed, "I have to say, Mr. Reaper, you make for a rather woeful dance partner... your sense of decorum is quite shot! I shan't be in a hurry to invite you to take part in one of my Deduction Dances."

"Good, never darken my door again and call the police for God's sake man!" Barok snarled, before stalking out of the museum and directly into a Hansom, "To the Prosecutor's Office, good man, and send the bill to 221B Baker Street."

Sholmes sighed as he watched other man leave, "... Truly I do miss that brilliant young man... come back to London soon, Mr. Naruhodo!"

#barok van zieks #herlock sholmes #silliness #request

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grimoire-of-seven · 5 years ago

Note

I have a crush on you

PROMPT :: “I have a crush on you..”

Rating: SFW

Words: 350-450 per character

Characters: Demon brothers + MC/Gender-Neutral Reader

Note: Thank you for the request! Although you didn’t specify which character, I took it upon myself to write for all of the demon brothers! It’s a little long so please continue reading under the cut!

LUCIFER

You stood your ground before him, eyes determined to express all these pent up emotions into words. When you arrived at the student council office, Lucifer was busy with several of the student council papers but insisted that he is listening to you.

“Lucifer,” You called out to the black-haired demon infront of you, hands clutching your Devildom Law book for courage, “I have a crush on you.”

“Hmm, yes,” He nodded his head almost automatically, his focus towards the papers unwavering, “You can put your term paper draft on my desk. I shall attend to that shortly after I finish this–”

“I said, ‘I have a crush on you’, Lucifer.” You repeated with a louder and much more resolute voice.

With that, his hands stopped mid-way through putting down one of the stacks. He directed his attention towards you, there was no semblance of an expression in his visage aside from its usual stoicism.

After that one second of shock, Lucifer then smiled at you with… was that pity or sadness in his– “…take that away.”

You gasped his statement, appalled that he dares to tell you how to deal with your feelings. You finally gathered the courage to tell him and he’s telling you to ‘take it away’?!

Within an instant, you made your way to his table and slammed your hand at his desk, “Now, listen here, you little shi–”

Wha-?!

He pulled your necktie with enough force that had you reeling towards him, the tips of your noses barely missing a millimeter.

“I’m just teasing.” He chuckled in delight, those piercing dark eyes staring at yours with such intensity that made your knees weak like jelly. “Time and time again, you amaze me with your honesty.”

Goosebumps trailed your arms as Lucifer’s hand caressed your cheek delicately. If he comes any closer, you’re most certain that he’ll hear the embarrassingly fast beating of your heart. “I like that.”

MAMMON

“Plus four!” Mammon exclaimed in glee, slamming the card in the low coffee table. Before reaching to the deck for four more cards, the white-haired demon stopped you in your tracks and placed yet another identical card, “Another plus four! I change the cards to blue!”

“You can’t stack plus four cards! UNO tweeted that before–”

“We’re using local rules here, dummy, get with the program!” He smugly replied, smirking at you as you reach for eight cards. “Taste my reverse card!”

“Yikes,” You sighed at his beaming energy of mischief, placing a blue card down, “You sure play dirty…”

“I get to ask ya one truth or a dare if I win!” Mammon nodded eagerly at your words as if it’s a compliment to him. He removed another blue card from his deck and exclaimed, “UNO!”

“Greedy… you’re too greedy for victory.” You changed the colour of the cards to yellow in high hopes that his last card isn’t the same.

Please don’t be yellow–

“Got’cha!” Damn.

“Truth or dare?” He asked excitedly with the energy of a toddler on a sugar-high.

He would definitely ask something very private and embarrassing if you chose truth, given that he’s animatedly eager to get you to lose this round. With that in mind, you chose the lesser evil, “Dare.”

“I dare you to tell the truth!”

This stupid idiot… You sighed and nodded, “Fine. But give me the cards, I’ll shuffle it this time.”

“Who are you interested among the seven of us brothers?”

Ah, so that’s what this is. You chuckled, his earlier demeanor making much more sense with his ‘dare’. “No wonder you’re pumped up when I said we should higher the stakes.”

“Ya didn’t wanna bet money!”

“It’s an UNO game, man.”

“So, who is it?” He asked, leaning back to his sofa with crossed-arms as he waited for you to hand him his set of cards, “Maybe if you slide in some cash, I can help you get–”

“He’s quite cute.” You began, taking a card as a starter and waiting for Mammon to put down his first.

“Oh? So that counts out Asmo since he’d beautiful!”

“He makes me laugh a lot.” You smiled, “Reverse card, reverse card, plus four, change colour to yellow.”

“GAH! I don’t have any yellow!!!” Mammon twisted from his seat at the realization of his misfortune, seeing that you only have three cards remaining in your hand. “That can’t be Levi or Lucifer or Satan! Those guys would choke if they’re asked to share a joke. So, it’s either Beel or Belphie, huh!”

You shook your head at his words, placing down another card, “I have a crush on you, Mammon.”

“Wh–” He looked up at you with wide-eyes, “No! Q-Quit playin’ dirty! I ain’t fallin’ for that.”

“Reverse card, UNO,” You stared back at him, eyes never leaving his as you placed your last cards, “I win.”

LEVIATHAN

What does Ruri-chan have that you don’t?

Dejectedly wiping the said figurine with a damp towel, you asked that question to yourself.

You were summoned at Levi’s room earlier that day for some ‘important friend training’ to be facilitated by the purple-haired demon himself… only to find out that he’s cleaning his figures and needed a few more hands on deck.

Why does he like Ruri-chan so much? She’s a fictional character, for god’s sake!

“Hey, Levi,” You started, looking up from your task, “If I say I have a crush on you, what would you do?”

The man in question stared at you for a moment before erupting into a boisterous laughter. “LMFAO,” he spelled in glee, hands waving off your statement as if it’s a mere jest, “That’s the funniest joke I have ever heard from you in a long while lolol.”

“Take this seriously, Levi!” You wrung the damp towel in annoyance and weaponized it against your companion, hitting him by the leg with enough force to have him yelp in pain.

“OW, TF you doing? That hurts!” He rubbed his leg in attempt to stave off the stinging feeling, only to realize your reaction to his answer, “Wait, that wasn’t a joke?”

“Do I look like-?!”

“WTF!? That’s a horrible decision!” Levi exclaimed in disbelief, his eyes scanning your expression for some sort of… mischief in your eyes or a slightly wolfish grin.

But all he saw was that you were genuinely serious - about him and your feelings for him.

“Why?” He breathed out the question, his head thinking of the times when you must’ve raised his intimacy close enough for you to drop that confession bomb on him, “Compared to Lucifer and Asmo, I’m not even the most handsome or popular character in this–”

“We’re not in a game.”

Levi went silent at your words.

Have you done it? Is this finally friendship over?

Panic began rising up your chest as he sat still, unmoving from his position. Before you can speak, he looked at you with a hopeful spark in his expression, “Then… does that mean I can like the main character, too?”

SATAN

Satan had offered to walk home with you together after hearing that Solomon is graciously tutoring you for certain RAD subjects – those that doesn’t exist in the human world. The blonde demon insisted that he doesn’t mind waiting for you given that there are still some things he has to do for the student council.

‘It sounds like an after-school date’, Solomon grinned at you before leaving. You swear, he’s got some sort of voodoo magic radar for your emotions.

Removing the thought of Solomon’s jests before you blush too hard, you thought of confessing to Satan before a certain someone runs his mouth about it. Should you…?

Yeah, it’s better to hear it from you than someone else – namely Solomon.

“Hey, Satan, I have a crush on you.” You told him, as casually as you can without breaking voice.

He stopped in his tracks, looking at you with disbelief. Satan opened his mouth to speak but stopped, taking a moment to think about his words, then simply asked, “Why…?”

Eh? “W-What do you mean ‘why’?”

You couldn’t really answer that. You’ve asked yourself a hundred times why you fell for a demon, the actual personification of Wrath itself, yet you can’t seem to find an answer for yourself. At least, you had no answers aside from… “I just really like you, Satan.”

He continued walking, you can feel the gears of his head turning as he oversees the situation in its logical perspective, “I’m a demon and you’re a human, need I remind you?”

That felt a pang on your chest, hearing him say it even though you are well aware of the fact.

Taking a deep breath to muster up the courage, you asked him for his final verdict, “So, you’re saying you don’t like me back?”

“Yes–!” He answered automatically, but then almost immediately denied, “Well, no.”

Huh. That’s quite confusing.

“I like you, too,” Satan smiled at you for a moment, “But things will be complicated if we think about this logically.”

Scratching the back of your head at his words, you couldn’t help yourself in saying, “When did love become a logical thing, though?”

He blushed at your words, hastening his walking speed to stop you from further seeing his reddened face, “S-Stop being too c-cute! I’m not lending you any more romance novels if you keep being so adorable!”

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus held your hand as if it was the most fragile thing in the world. With great precision, he coated your nails with an even layer of nail polish to match his wonderfully manicured ones.

People adore Asmodeus’ natural charm. What can you say? He’s absolutely flawless and drop-dead gorgeous.

Just thinking about the way his eyes sparkle at the news of Jeffrey Star’s new palette collection. The way he speaks excitedly whenever Prada presents their new line of designer bags. Hell, even talking about hand cream is a treat in itself whenever Asmodeus does it.

Look at you, absolutely whipped for this man and his undeniable charm.

He insists that you’re immune to his beauty yet you’re still attracted to him. It’s unfair to be this handsomely beautiful.

“Asmo, I think I have a crush on you.” You spouted out randomly, feeling his soft warm hands against yours.

“Of course, you do~” He replies as a matter-of-factly, “Everyone lusts over my magnificent–”

“I’m serious, Asmo.” You cut him off from his usual sugar-sweet line, “I like you.”

“Alright, humour me, love,” He put aside the nail polish and intertwined his hands in yours, his face closing towards yours dangerously, “If I accept your confession and we become a couple, what would you like to do with me…?”

With heated cheeks, you opened your mouth to speak but he sensually placed an index finger by your lips, he whispered with that hedonistic tone of his, “In private, that is…”

In private?! Gosh, he’s asking for a lot!

Suddenly feeling parched, you gulp at the thought of what you wanted out of him if he ever accepts you as a partner. Eyes flitting anywhere except towards his, you tried your best to hold your trembling body before him - backing down now might show your lack of conviction towards him, after all.

You mumbled softly, hoping that he can hear you through your closeness, “…ds with you.”

“Tsk tsk,” The peach-haired demon grinned as he clicked his tongue, “I can’t hear you with such a silent voice. You can do better than that~”

“M-Maybe hold h-hands with you… or c-cuddle if y-you want.” You repeated a bit more audibly, your blush deepening by the second, “I-It’d be fun to go o-on a café w-with just the two of us, too.”

“KYAAA~! That’s so wholesome and adorable!!!” Asmodeus squealed in delight at your answer, throwing himself at you in a tight embrace, “Alright, I’ll be your boyfriend and we’ll do all those together~! This is so exciting!”

“No!!! Asmo, my nails!”

BEELZEBUB

From whatever ‘reliable’ and expensive source you’ve heard [definitely not Mammon], Beel apparently loves a certain sandwich menu from Hell’s Kitchen. Unfamiliar with Devildom’s cuisine and Hell’s Kitchen’s menu, you were faced with a dilemma.

The question would be… which one of the three sandwiches in the menu he likes most?

This frustrating situation made you want to curse Mammon for scamming your 100Grimm with this useless piece of information. Sighing at the thought of having to buy all three just for good measure, you saw the Avatar of Gluttony himself walking pass the restaurant.

“Beel!” You exclaimed to get his attention, waving at the tall ginger-haired demon as he looked towards your general direction, “I have a question for you!”

He greeted you with that heart-melting smile of his, eager to answer any inquiries from you. You whisked him away from the street and into the shop, asking, “Which of the sandwiches in the menu do you like most?”

“What for?”

“Just answer the question, please~”

“The one with the tartare and cheese…” He replied, eyes dreamy at the menu board, most possibly captivated by the memory of having such a treat. Beel snapped from his reverie, explaining to you why it’s his most favoured, “It’s like your human food ‘cheeseburger’!”

You nodded and ordered the exact sandwich for him, much to his surprise.

It’s like a date! You inwardly screamed, mentally giving yourself a high-five for taking advantage of this sweet opportunity.

“Let’s split up the sandwich, as thank you for buying me food…”

How sweet! The thought made you want to curl up in the floor and cry in happiness, but resisted, “Come on, let me treat you once in a while!”

You both took a seat on the less conspicuous booths of the store. As Beel ate with glee, you chatted him up, content at the moment both of you were sharing.

“Why’d you *munch* even buy me food?”

“I like you!” You answered without a sliver of a doubt, carried too much at the connection you were sharing at the time. Blinking once… twice, you realized what you’ve done.

Well, fu–

“This food sure is great,” Beel avoided looking at you and continued eating, his face noticeably red from his blushing cheeks.

Groaning in defeat, you buried your face in your hands. It’d be rude to suddenly take back what you’ve said. Stupid me, stupid, stupid–

“I thought I’m hearing things because I’m still hungry.” The ginger-haired demon explained, his hands taking yours and peeling them off from your heated face, “You’re like this sandwich, you know that?”

“W-What…?”

“It’s my favourite, just as you’re my favourite person to be with!”

BELPHEGOR

You stared at Belphegor’s sleeping face, so peaceful and at ease.

It’s hard to think of him as a demon when he’s especially languid like this.

He had invited you to watch a movie that Levi suggested, only to doze off within fifteen minutes of the production, his head perfectly placed by your lap. Deciding that the Avatar of Sloth would rather sleep than watch, you let him sleep to his heart’s content.

The moment the movie ended, you didn’t notice that your lap had fallen asleep with him. Great.

You poked his cheek, seeing if he’ll wake up. “Belphie~” You cooed, “Belphie, wake up… My thighs has fallen asleep with you~”

“Fiv.. m’nutes…” He stirred, making himself much more comfortable on your lap and on the sofa.

“What am I gonna do with you?” You sighed in affection, smiling at his sleeping visage. Similar to Belphegor, you also made yourself comfortable on the sofa despite the stinging feeling by your thighs, “Alright, five more minutes, but only because I like you.”

To your surprise, Belphie spoke again, “Say that again.”

“I said you can have five more minutes, Belphie.”

“No, the second part…”

He heard that?!

You gulped, eyes avoiding his as you slowly repeated, “B-B… Because I like you.”

The raven-haired demon closed his eyes once, turning away from you, “I must be dreaming.” And within seconds, he has fallen asleep again just like that.

“No, Belphie, don’t sleep!” You stood up at his reaction to such an important confession, only to remember that he was formerly sleeping on your lap.

WHOOPS.

“Ow,” He rubbed his head after being unceremoniously thrown out of the sofa, sitting up groggily from all of the commotion, “Okay, so it’s not a dream.”

You sat beside him on the floor and rubbed his head as well, apologizing for it, “Why would think that, though?”

He looked away with a blush, “Because it’s too good to be true…”

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mcrcurial · 3 years ago

Text

(( natasha liu bordizzo, cis. female, she / her. )) when the evening snow falls, you won't find lisbet pesci outside. the twenty-seven year old psychotherapist has lived in frigid for twenty years and most know her to be enigmatic and mercurial. ( kenz, 22, she / her, est. )

basics.

full name. lisbet mihn pesci

nicknames. liz, betty

age, d.o.b. twenty-seven, september 18th

place of birth. frigid, alaska

ethnicity. italian-american & vietnamese

occupation. psychotherapist at frigid clinic

gender. cis. female

sexuality. openly bisexual

inclination. fairly inclined toward likeminded individuals, though she happens to attract partners that aren’t exactly the best match for her.

relationship status. single

visage.

faceclaim. natasha liu bordizzo

height & weight. five foot five, one hundred eighteen pounds.

body build. fairly thin, but not overly so; physically toned from her rigid health routine.

hair desc. feathered, dark brown hair with highlights that catch the sunlight.

eye desc. partially lidded, almond shaped eyes of a mahogany color.

skin desc. somewhat fair and flecked with haphazard freckles and beauty marks.

accessories. glasses often perched on the bridge of her nose, stud earrings, and a silver ring strung from a necklace always worn beneath clothing.

wardrobe. rolled up sleeves. several white lab coats worn interchangeably. peter pan collars. thrifted sweaters. delicate patterns.

personality.

positive traits. attentive, independent, meticulous, self-disciplined, solicitous, trustworthy.

negative traits. enigmatic, despondent, dogmatic, reticent, rigid, unravelling.

likes. people-watching. whiskey neats. eclectic music. art-patronage. soul-cycling.

dislikes. milk in her coffee. unnecessary small talk. floral perfume. mornings. impotence.

ambitions. her main ambition is to further herself in her career and prove herself a formidable asset to her patients━liz wants to leave an impact even after she’s long gone.

fears. falling short of her self-expectations.

hobbies. working out. devotion to her work outside of the clinic. reading. frequenting the frost club for a drink.

habits. sitting in one spot for hours on end. drunk texting/confessions. lingering touches━an arm snaked along the back of a couch, head rested on your lap, hand on your shoulder. standing in a doorway, or straying from one corner of the room to the other rather than sitting down.

biography.

lisbet is the second born child to mei lin-pesci & her father, josef pesci. after about five years of trying for their second child, lisbet arrives as a catalyst with a human name. she’s a miracle, her mother whispered into her crown of hair. her father took the wailing child into his arms, and he’d sworn to love his daughter endlessly. same as he had sworn onto his first born, lisbet is fiercely doted as a child. their darling girls.

her childhood is spent chasing her sister through the halls of their childhood home & whispering secrets in the garden. the pair were inseparable no matter the circumstance, or at least they thought so. by then, the family business had taken well to the influx of tourists in town, and profit margins were set to expand 10 fold within the next few years, as such, the aid of lisbet and her sister was enlisted where her parent’s and their small staff team fell short.

following her sister’s leave for school, lisbet spends her teen years stocking shelves. and she couldn’t quite pinpoint when the adoration turned into loathing. the phone calls home slow, and lisbet watches the next few years of her sister’s life in pictures. she’d learn to live without her favorite person by her side. and she leads a normal routine for sometime: school, work, hang out with friends, then go home. until, she’s sitting at her mother’s bedside in the late hours of the morning. her mother had suffered an unexpected brain hemorrhage, and all the girl could do was hold her mother’s hand in her own as she passed on.

life faces the young woman with an uncharacteristic stillness. and her sister flies home for the funeral but lisbet doesn’t know where to begin. she’d unlearned some of the resentment, but the distance remains. her sister returns home and entirely new person, and lisbet is unchanged. even a few years older, she’s still the same fragile girl that her older sister left back in frigid. and even after her mother’s burial, life goes on. her sister returns to school, and lisbet enacts her search for colleges. she chose standford━she prayed relentlessly to receive that black and white envelope. and when she did, it seemed that for once in a rather long time, things were going to be okay for her.

her summer had been spent working later shifts and packing her belongings away into boxes. the end of the summer neared, and yet again her life stilled. james, perhaps her only childhood friend aside from her sister, had gone missing. the last she’d heard from him, he had been walking home after work. lisbet was the last person to talk to him. then teenaged, she spent the latter portion of her summer searching for answers━even if it meant her unravelling. even now, she can’t help but to wonder what happened to jamie miller ?

lisbet is falling apart at the seams by the time she’s foisted upon the standford campus. hardly applying herself to her studies, the majority of her freshman year is spent partying and perhaps over-indulging in whatever toxicant she can manage to get her hands on. after catching word of her doings, her father levels with her: get her act together, or come home. refusal of the latter forces the party-girl to get her act together. over the series of months, lisbet learns to mask those undone seams. she reapplies herself to her work, and soon enough, she’s graduated and ready to enter the field.

she manages to snag a position at a nearby psychiatric hospital. the job is gouache and it hadn’t necessarily payed well, but lisbet takes solace in her work. in helping other people, even if she couldn’t help herself. she roots herself in the field of psychotherapy for some years, but with the most recent decline of her father’s health, it seems lisbet has made her unlikely return to frigid.

#𝐋. 𝐏𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐈 . . . ��𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁.#coldhq:intro #srry the bio is lowkey shitty lmao

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years ago

Text

I want to tell you... (Part 8.)

Description: Nathan Drake is not the exact definition of an unhappy man. His job is steady, his friends still see him from time to time, he plays football, but his marriage is his main problem. Many things will change when a special person comes to his life.

Part Summary: Some things from the past are about to be revealed slowly... And you don’t know if you feel relieved that Nate knows first bits about you or if you want to keep the things secret.

A/N: x

Word counter: 2.7 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @peakymarvels, @nemodoren, @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Nathan’s car sing-along playlist: H E R E

This time, Nathan promised himself to be better than before - and he texted you right the other morning when he woke up. First, he was feeling weird about it, but as soon as you texted back, a grin appeared on his lips. You've even sent him a photo of your completely moved-in living room with a heart emoji, which made grin all shift long.

It took exactly three days before your other hangout. Your semester was starting in October and you hadn't got many friends in the town, so when Nate offered you any kind of escape from the loneliness, you've accepted right away.

The hangout wasn't originally even Nate's idea - it was Sully's. They were just hanging out at Sully's place, Florence has been gone for the shift, and both boys were getting ready to visit a farmer market in the nearby city when the idea crossed Victor's mind.

"Hey, kid?" - Sully sighed as he walked out of the bedroom, adjusting his belt on his jeans. Nathan expected the old man to ask if the visage suits him, but Victor pulled a completely different Uno card.

"You know, I was thinkin' about that girl of yours. Ain't she free for the day? I mean... A bit of help never hurt anyone, amirite?" - The old man adjusted his Cuban shirt, having Nathan thinking about two things in particular. How could he charm Florence while wearing such fashion crime and why on earth he wanted to meet you? The first one was bothering Nate way more, but he still asked about the second subject. - Why would I invite her to shop with you?" - Nate asked confusedly, earning a chuckle.

"Because you, boy, have been staring outta window the whole time I've been in the bedroom, thinkin' about her. Didn't you?" - Sully asked, knowing he's right. Nate was thinking about you - yet he was thinking about the best text to respond with to your last joke. It wasn't like he was just mindlessly signing, talking about how pretty you were. - "How am I lookin'?" - Sully turned at himself in the mirror, putting a cigar between his lips and aviators on his eyes, before hooking them on the hem of his white top. Nathan rolled his eyes, standing up.

"Like someone whos too old to be attractive, but he still thinks he has it. Come on." - The younger man asked, already hearing his phone ringing as he called you, hoping you wouldn't pick up. To his bad luck, you've picked just after the second sound. Your voice told Nate that you're really glad to hear him.

"Hey!" - A joyful cheer came out of the phone, making Sully chuckle at your excitement as he locked the apartment door.

"Hi, nice to hear from you." - Nathan greeted you back nervously, looking at the old man giving him his well-known grin. Nate felt like a nervous girl asking her boy out to the prom, so he took in a deep breath to ask you if you'd like to join them, being interrupted by your giggle. - "You're out of breath? You're jogging or something? I mean, jog in this weather is a suicide, but you do you." - You rambled, being lost in the thoughts inside of your head.

The weather was beautiful, indeed. The sun was shining, and the air was nicely warm, so it would be ideal weather to go to the beach for a swim. But having you thinking that Nathan is jogging made Sully chuckle as the young man rolled his eyes at him. Nathan would jog only if necessary and Victor mas aware of that. It was more probable that Sully himself sets on a jog, this boy would rather go to buy an ice-cream, sit on a porch and watched the nature.

"No, unfortunately, I don't jog, so..." - Nathan answered, having you chuckle with quiet 'kay added in the end. - "But I'm going to a market and you, miss, are going with me. How does that sound?" - The man said with confidence, having Sully make a dramatic surprised face as both the man walked to Nate's jeep standing in front of the apartment building.

"You don't even ask me if I have time today? Rude." - You answered, and for a moment, Nate felt saved because you won't be going with them. - "Sure, where will you pick me up?" - You asked suddenly when Nate plugged his phone into the car's Bluetooth, suddenly hearing your voice everywhere around them. Sully was quite amused with the personality you seemed to have so far.

"I don't know, maybe on the street, you're livin' at?" - The old man asked, having Nate's eyes widen in horror. Sully just innocently opened up the window, lighting one of his cigarillos up. Nathan hated it when the man smoked in his car, but he also learned that resistance comes in vain when it came to this man, so he just rolled his eyes and set on the road.

"Excuse me, who is that? I thought I'm talking to Nate." - You asked nervously, all the humor suddenly leaving you.

"Don't mind him, it's my best pal. So, in twenty minutes at the corner of the street? I think I won't be able to drive in because of the people and stuff." - Nate smacked Sully's thigh angrily, watching the man having a problem with containing a serious face as he turned around to look from the window. For a while, there was this weird silence on your end, before you sighed.

"'kay, I'll be there. See you, both." - You said your goodbye swiftly, already hurrying off to put some clothes on.

"Was that necessary, Sullivan?" - Nathan sighed, turning on one of his car playlists. This man was a sucker for singing in the car when he was stuck in a long colony, so he made a few playlists over the time - some included rock'n'roll when he was feeling fierce, one of them was solemnly based on the legendary 80s' songs, but he had an indie one of the modern music that kids these days listened to as well. And because he knew that Sully's more this oldies guy, he turned this one on, having Sully sigh unpleasantly. But he deserved it at the end of the day.

"Shed see me one way or another, kiddo. Or did you plan on shovin' me into the trunk, makin' me jump out of it as a surprise once we arrive there?" - Sully responded with his typical sense of humor, having Nate take a while to think over his stupidity. No matter how much he didn't like it, Sully was right. You'd see Sully when they'd be picking you up, so maybe, it was better to be aware of the danger beforehand. You've been looking exquisite, almost kicking the breath out of Nathan's chest, which sully didn't miss at all - he just didn't say anything out loud.

You had the same denim overalls on, with another amazing t-shirt a huge sunhat on your head. The old man sprang up from the co-drivers seat, opening the door for you, offering you a handshake. - "Hi." - He said. Oh Lord, this man was at least twenty years older than you, but he had some damn charm inside of him. - "Name's Victor, what 'bout you?" - The man gently kissed your knuckles, stealing breath out of your lungs.

Nathan couldn't but eye-roll at the sight of Sullivan. This guy was something, trying to impress every lady around even if he was taken. - "I wonder what Florence would say about your 'bout you, Sully." - Nate peaked out of the car, giving you one of his typical grins. At that, Sully chuckled and winked at you, as you still realized you're holding his palm in yours and that you also have a boyfriend. - "I'm Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Victor." - You smiled back calmly, finally letting his hand go as you climbed into the car next to Nate. Sully didn't miss the dreamy look on the young man's face as he watched you settling down.

"Hey, Mr. Drake." - You told him charmingly, immediately vibing to Nate's playlist. Nathan smiled after a while, waiting before Sullivan settles his ass down on the backseat.

"Hey, how are you?" - Nate started a small chit-chat as you set on your way. It took you quite a long time since, in the middle of your journey, Nathan decided he wants to have an ice-cream, so you had to get an ice-cream. And when you finally set on the real way, there was a huge colony of cars because of some roadwork ahead. You and Sully chatted about his girlfriend, about how he's doing, what is he doing. He was a business owner, which quite surprised by someone who was looking like Sully. Suddenly, a song dropped, having both you and Sully to look at Nathan, who started dancing around, mumbling the words.

"Well, here we go again." - Sully mumbled under his mustache, rolling down the window to have another cigarillo. For a moment, you were amused by simply watching Nate vibe to the song, before he turned to you and sang you the lyrics. - "What are you doing? Stop." - You told the man between the waves of laughter washing over you. Soon enough, you noticed that Nate rolled every window down, now screaming the lyrics from the top of his lungs. For a moment, it almost looked as if you just let the man make an idiot out of himself, but suddenly, you started dancing too, yelling the lyrics on the man driving the car next to yours.

"Like strangers. Perfect pretenders. We're falling head over heels, for something that ain't real. It could never be us, eh, just you and I." - And at that moment, Sully was sure by two things. First was that the people on the front seats were just kids in overgrown bodies, Nathan especially. And the second thing was that he understood what Nathan saw on you. Elena was crazy at times, she was fun and really smart, but she had never sung one of Nate's car songs as passionately as you did. Sure, he didn't crush on you as Nathan did instantly, but you were likable.

The people in the cars around yours were laughing at the sight of two adults making such moves and faces during a pop song, there was no-one angry about you blasting the whole highway with the song. - "And you were acting as if I was embarrassing you?" - Nathan asked you unbelievably when the colony moved forward, grinning at you. - "You, miss, outshined me. You're way better at car sing-along than I am."

"Well, I couldn't let you know my strengths from the very first moment, could I?" - A classy smirk appeared on your face before you turned to look out of the window. - "But Sully is looking like his ears are about to bleed every second. You okay?" - You turned to the big man on the backseat, who had that grin on. - "Well, it was an impressive concert, to say the least."

You needed to say... You were grateful that Nathan made you come to the market that day. It was happening in a small village and it was obvious that you either had to have friends there or know about this place on your own to find about a market like this. There were animals, hordes of vegetables and a lot of gardening tools. You almost bought some, but Nate told you not to because you didn't have even small flowerpots at home. Even if the market wasn't too big, you spent almost three hours there. And just when you were walking back to the jeep, Nathan was carrying four bags of goods in his palms, you heard your phone ringing. It was from Mike.

"Hey, baby." - The man sighed and you could already tell what that will be about. You were about to spend another day at home on your own. - "What're you doing?" - He started sweetly, as he always did.

"Oh, Nate and his best friend took me to a market to buy some veggies because Nate is about to cook dinner for him and his girlfriend. How about you?" - You asked Mike back. Yeah, sure, he was quite surprised that you were spending time with Nate again, but he decided not to comment on it. You were hanging out quite a lot.

"Guess where. I won't be at home until midnight, again, so..." - Mike breathed out and your face automatically saddened. Nate caught this just when he and Sully finished packing the goods into the trunk, so he slowly walked up to you, but didn't let you know that he's standing just a few feet away from you.

"Are you sure it's about work?" - A sour question left your lips as you tried to stay calm, not to cause some drama in front of Sully and Nate. But Nathan furrowed at the words you've said. He almost started assuming what you were talking about, but you asked another one to his good luck. - "Or is there someone else in work again?"

That made Nate widen his baby blue eyes and from the stress, he started to toy around with his fingers. Mike was cheating on you with someone? Was it before you moved there, was it happening now or..? How long did you know about that? Jesus. Nate didn't know why is he still listening to such an intimate call, but he had an actual feeling that in a way, it made him more sure about the feelings he was having for you. You didn't deserve such a jerk. - "Yeah, sure, whatever. I'll find some program for myself, don't worry about it."

With that, you turned on your heels and Nate's head sprung in the opposite direction as he pretended that he wasn't listening to you. You didn't know how much he heard, so you just gave him a careful look. - "Uhm, I and Sully talked about inviting you over to the diner... I mean... If you want to, of course, but I would like some help with preparing the masterpiece... That's what I wanted to ask... You about..." - Nate mumbled with nervosity in his face, still playing with his fingers. It was a relief that Nate didn't hear any of what you just spat at Mike.

"I think I can save some time for you and these two. It's your lucky day, Nathan." - You answered, fighting the urge to cry at least. Back when you were living in your old place and things got bad, you used to yell at each other. So you decided to move to a different town, start over - you finally started working on your degree and Mike had won a good work offer. And for the few months, the situation had settled down once again. Mike stopped seeing these... Ladies and it could be felt the love had come back to your relationship.

It was almost a month and a half since you've met Nathan (it took quite a long time before you heard back from him) and the relationship was getting cold again. It wasn't even that Mike was gone for a lot of time, it was just the feeling of love disappearing again. You were almost seeing Nathan more often than your boyfriend, which was sad, but you could understand him a lot of aspects of his relationship with his wife. That was why you were fond of spending time with Nathan, most likely.

When you watched that awkward goofball smirking as he looked away from you. So you immediately took off to drive back to Sully's place. It made you feel better about yourself once again - Sully pulled up all of his best jokes for you, so he had you giggling in no time at all. Nate was thinking about the conversation he heard, but he joined the conversation not too long after. And just like that, you were headed with two practical strangers to the apartment of one of them.

#nathan drake #nathan drake x reader #nathan drake uncharted #uncharted #victor sully sullivan #elena fisher #elena fisher drake #naughty dog uncharted #naughty dog

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ldinlove · 4 years ago

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The Trump Bandwagon

Under a leaden sky, a caravan slows to a stop on the outskirts of the town. Near the front, a wagon bearing a cage creaks laboriously under a heavy load. Cribbed behind its bars lays a shifting pallid mass, it’s mid-section spilling loosely over a crudely fashioned diaper. The freak show has arrived and the thing in the cage believes it is the star. It giggles in anticipation; ready for the bacchanal. The shirtless Ringmaster sits astride a horse, smirking slyly as he eyeballs his surroundings. He gazes toward the village and smells the air. The stench of hate and ignorance have summoned the carnival, ensuring an excellent turnout. The venal will come, selling their souls at the gate as they wait for their turn on the shuddering machine called The Trump Bandwagon. Thralls, once seduced by the illusion, hastily assemble the rickety contraption. A fresh coat of crimson paint conceals the decay that is consuming the structure. The facade of lights and music hide a leviathan hungry for the fearful, the angry, and the foolish. The attraction opens, spilling the multitude into the labyrinth. Souls already lost fill the void that has been carefully prepared for them. Carnival barkers beckon the gullible from darkened alleyways; offering spells for fortune and power. Fairgoers assemble to gawk in loathing and fascination at the main attraction. Others prepare to board the relic for their ride to hell. The Trump Bandwagon slowly lurches to life. Behind a curtain The Ringmaster manipulates the ancient levers that work the apparatus, switching tracks and routing cars into the dark – never to be seen again. Under the big top, co-conspirators toss MAGA hats into the crowd as fights erupt in the greedy frenzy for favor. The unenlightened crush forward as the fairway and byways fill beyond capacity. A spark from a careless cigarette ignites the bedding in the beast’s cage. The fire quickly spreads as it consumes the straw and the reckoning begins. In town, the alarm sounds and those who have not fallen under the spell come. Bucket brigades arrive to push back against the propaganda that feeds the heat and smoke. Sensing failure, The Ringmaster flees into the night, sparks erupting from the abandoned control panel. He seeks shelter in the shadows, burying his secrets along the way. Shielding his eyes and skin from the painful sear of exposure, he will wait. His creation begins to buckle; mirrors shattering under the heat of scrutiny. It’s visage red in the glow of the fire, eyes black as pitch, the diapered troll rocks back and forth violently as it’s unholy cradle begins to char, then crack. Enveloped in flame, the sickly king-who-would-be drops into oblivion as its throne collapses in a shower of sparks and putrid smog. The fleeing assemblage find only dead ends, piling onto one another in panic. Walls close in, forcing the guilty to face their folly as their cries for leniency die inside the roar and the heat. Dawn breaks as the last of the embers cool; steam rising from the black and oily mass that was the Trump. Survivors solemnly file past a charred sign laying in the ashes. The burned paint of the marquee has peeled back revealing words written in Cyrillic: Поразить Путина – The Putin Bandwagon

#Trump #Political satire #Politics #Poetry #poem #Trump poem bad #allegory #allegories

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k-fiction-therapy · 5 years ago

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Into The Night (Version 4 - Kihyun)

Moodboard by Admin Scar

Starring: Yoo Kihyun & Reader

Includes: Vampire!AU, Cemetery Smut & Candlelight

Rating: 18+

~*.*..*"God will not find you here...”*..*.*~

A/N: Hello, all! This is the fourth installment of “Into the Night”, a series that highlights seven very different Vampire!AU stories, each involving a different member of Monsta X as the main male lead. <3 I hope you enjoy them. I have been obsessed with Vampires since I was a child, and my attraction to them only grows the older I get~ I do hope that my take on these different vampire tropes tickles your fancy as it has mine.

Version 1 - Shownu

Version 2 - Wonho

Version 3 - Minhyuk

Version 4 - Kihyun

Version 5 - Hyungwon

Version 6 - Jooheon

Version 7 - Changkyun

Asks Open for Feedback, Comments, Kudos and Thoughts. <3

It wasn’t that you were fascinated by cemeteries per se, but rather that you were fascinated with the afterlife in general. There had to be something out there. This life couldn’t be it. How do you explain the heavy feeling you get when you enter an old home, or the energy of the living area of the recently deceased? It couldn’t be as simple as “you live, you die”. You had always questioned what happened after you died, and with religion always floating around, you weren’t really sure what exactly you believed in—except for ghosts. Ghosts you definitely believed in.

When you were young, you saw your first ghost. She was benevolent, tall, a dusty grey, and dressed in Victorian clothes. She hung around the hallway that led to your bedroom in your childhood home. Sometimes she paced, and at other times she was completely still. You were old enough to understand that she wasn’t really tangible like you were, and that she meant you no harm at all—she was just simply there for whatever reason. This was long before you understood how residual spiritualism worked. You were not afraid of her, but rather you were comforted by her. In mixed company, you even referred to her as ‘grandmother’. Your mom was a little worried by what she would call an ‘imaginary friend’, and your school counselor tried to tell you it was just your overactive imagination; but you knew better.

Since then, you had found yourself fascinated by the paranormal. Sure, it scared the hell out of you at times, but it was all worth it for the thrill of seeing life past death. You scouted out places that were supposedly haunted, places where there were several reports of activity on the premises. Honestly, a lot of them were easily debunked—paranoid ladies in an old house, and crackpots that want to put their home on some kind of historical map thinking that a haunting would qualify them as a landmark; but it doesn’t exactly work that way. In short, you were a part-time paranormal novice who spent their days at the coffee shop, talking your coworkers ears off about ghosts and history—you could practically hear their eyes roll when you got to chatting passionately.

Cemeteries, though? Most of them weren’t haunted at all, residual energies generally inhabiting the home in which the deceased once lived, their energy having coated it like snow in the winter months; but their “final resting place” underground wasn’t exactly a place that ghosts tend to frequent. It might not have made much sense that spirits were more linked to their physical spaces and possessions than their own body, but that’s just how it was most of the time. But this wasn’t ‘most of the time’, this was the exception.

Seven Gardens Cemetery was the epitome of paranormal activity in the far-off corner of the dreamy town of St. Vincent. As heavy as the fog was around the area, even during the daylight hours, it made sense that people would have eerie feelings in this place. It looked spooky, even to someone well versed in the macabre, but that’s why you were there; to figure out what was feeling, and what was true haunt. You had looked at maps of the place several times when planning this trip, and said map actually resided in the side pocket of your backpack, just in case you needed it while on the grounds.

Your skin prickled with anticipation as you parked a good way from the iron gates to the cemetery. You hadn’t exactly asked for permission to be on the grounds, so you didn’t want to raise any suspicion by having an unfamiliar vehicle by the entrance for an inordinate amount of time—especially when you planned to spend some real quality time inside of those gates.

It was nearing eleven in the evening when you managed your way onto the path, and into the mouth of the grounds. Darkness had settled in the cemetery, and the lack of street lights made the atmosphere perfect for anyone looking for a thrilling, spooky place—but for you, it was a pretty normal place. Scanning a few of the older looking headstones, you noted the last names and the dates, tracing a few family lines for the fun of it—nothing of note yet.

There were a few moments, when a twig snap or howling wind would catch your ear, making you jump a bit, but that could have just been the paranoia that came with trespassing. Continuing on the path, you found yourself eventually arriving at the heart of the cemetery, a gorgeous gazebo and stone garden, which would have been very tranquil, and relaxing had it been well-kept, but currently it was horrendously overgrown, and any sight of fish had turned to death in a muddy grave. You almost felt sorry for them, especially if they were koi.

It had been nearly an hour, and you had neither seen nor heard anything remotely resembling paranormal activity, and you were beginning to think you’d sent yourself on quite the wild goose chase. Sighing, you would lean against the gazebo, glancing off towards the left side of the cemetery, to the parts that you hadn’t yet explored. Not far from where you stood, between two large trees, stood a huge, gorgeous mausoleum, the structure erected in the perfect position to be worshiped by the moon, and not the street lights. Even with the dim natural light on its visage, you could see a flickering glint from within, as if it were candlelight—but there should be no reason for flame, or ulterior light sources of any kind, the need for candles, lanterns or the like obsolete to the dead.

For a second, you felt nearly afraid to investigate, but after you swelled your chest with the faux pride of an idiot about to force themselves into an unknown and possibly terrifying situation, you pranced on. Moving through the grass, more than likely being impolite to a few graves that were long since forgotten, you strode towards the dark stone mausoleum, eyeing the door, praying that it wasn’t locked, chained, or bolted shut. As your hand reached for it, you flexed your fingers, one eye squinting as you gripped the handle, pulling it slowly. It was a bit rusted, and screeched like a demon’s call as it gave, only opening with enough space for you to squeeze inside. It was a tight fit, but once you were in, you were in.

Scanning the place, you were in absolute awe of what you saw. Candles. So many candles. You could practically smell the wax, and it invaded your nostrils pleasantly, making you inhale deep. A few were out, but the place rivaled a Catholic church in volume. Running your fingers across a shape in the wax that led to a stagnant drip, you found yourself fascinated by the texture. You’d only ever seen things like this in the movies, and you were mesmerized by it all now, completely forgetting why you were there and what you should be searching for—Who lit all of these candles anyway?

“Pretty, aren’t they all?” Came a voice from seemingly nowhere, causing you to spin around, heart hammering as you stared towards the back of the mausoleum. Chest heaving, you wrinkled your brows. Maybe you were hearing things. It was until the voice filled the room again that you saw him, a gorgeous face, direct eyes and a gentle tone, creeping from the shadows in the most sensual way you’d ever witnessed, “…I’ve grown quite the collection over the last century.”

He stepped into the area, and you swore your heart had stopped. He was so beautiful, quite possibly the most beautiful creature you had ever seen in your life. His hands locked at the curve of his tailbone, keeping his posture perfect, the male tilted his head, the pale column of his throat accentuated with a thick black choker, the veins beneath a perfect blue and his lips a dusty rose, and the most alluring shape. You weren’t sure if you were short of breath because of the scare, or rather how gorgeous the male looked. Deadly.

In a flash, much like lightening, he was much closer, his hands remaining clasped behind his back, his body leaning forward, the point of his nose in your personal space. You stared up at him with wide eyes, watching as his lips peeled open, revealing perfectly white fangs to you, their sharp point accentuated by the pink of his tongue, the roll of the tip causing his words to strike you in the most sensual way, making you quake, “What are you doing in my home? How did you know I was here, darling?”

“I didn’t know anyone lived here—I…I was just—” You backed up, but there was hardly anywhere for you to go, your tailbone meeting a gothic metal railing, ceasing your movement. You swallowed hard, your eyes so focused you nearly went cross-eyed, your eyes watering a bit in fear

“You where what? Snooping?” The man approached you, but he never seemed to take a step. It was almost as if he glided towards you, the color of his eyes becoming all the more intense the closer he got—you could almost swear that his pupils had swallowed the color whole, like a predator who had just seen its prey, “Naughty little thing.”

“I wasn’t snooping! I was just—” You didn’t know what to say to get yourself out of this situation, and if you were honest, you had no idea what he was planning. You had really stepped in it this time, but in your defense, you never thought that someone would just be ‘living’ in an antiquated mausoleum.

“Oh, trespassing then?” He nearly hissed, the sound of his voice almost as if he had some sort of lisp, or his teeth were in the way. You cursed yourself for noticing unimportant things of the like, thinking that you should be focusing on getting out of here, and away from this man that looked at you as if you were the last drop of water in a barren desert. He tipped his head, halting nearly two feet from you, though his energy read as kinetic potential, the air around you denser with him in it.

“Honestly, mister, I didn’t mean to…I was only looking for ghosts.” You tried your best to reason with him, to make him understand why you had quite literally broken into his home. “I heard this place was haunted and I—”

“You found…a vampire.” He cut off your words like a hot knife through butter, “—and now you know about me…what’s to be done about that, hm?” He forced an artificial breath through his perfectly prominent lips, his tongue flicking the air after. With a twinge of a brow, he lifted his chin, allowing his eyes to roll down your form. “Perhaps naughty little things like you should be punished.”

“Please, Mister.” You weren’t sure that you believed in vampires, and you were even less sure by this point that you weren’t dreaming this. He was more than alluring, and some part of your soul was entranced by him, called towards him; and you found yourself fighting hard not to follow its whims.

“Call me Kihyun darling…” He all but growled, his shoulders lifting a bit, bringing more attention to the gorgeous shape of his collarbones, that choker moving slightly with his adam’s apple beneath it. Every word had you throbbing.

“K-kihyun…?” You repeated, your tongue lingering for far too long at the vermilion border of your lips. His name tasted of sin, and you found yourself even more swayed—almost dizzy with an odd, washing need, like a hot flash coming over you, calling yourself to him.

“Mmn, yes. – Come here. Now.” He commanded, though you swore his voice never got above the tone of a whisper. He used his chin to gesture, the point of it, pulling you forward until you were close enough to him to smell the dust of ancient years in his clothes, and the cool chill of stone that lingered on his contours.

“I-I…” You whimpered as his hands came forward, forcing your backpack off of you and to the ground. He took time taking your shirt from you, the cold of his fingers more than soothing to your flushed skin, more than pleasurable. You moaned gently, and he drug digits down your front, touching nipples and lower, your eyes following his hands, admiring their transparent skin, every part of you he touched instantly aroused.

“Very naughty indeed…” He looked into your eyes, his hand disappearing into your underwear, your body hunching as a strike of pleasure overtook your sensitive nerves, your body on fire with arousal, possessing you like a soul malevolently tortured.

***************

Red satin billowed over stone, wrinkled and shaking like a tainted maidenhead. Atop it, you were being taken ravenously, your legs spread, and locked around the vampire’s hips, your head thrown back and body contorting wildly to his will, back arching so hard you swore it would break. Your muscles spasmed hard, seeming as if they would never stop, the fabric beneath you stained dark by the rush of fluids he had pulled from you.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your nails scratching as skin that would not conceive wounds. His teeth drug against your neck, following the pale column to its apex, pin pricking at the top of your chest, lips locking against skin, sucking blood from the muscle there. He groaned wildly, muffled behind the pump of blood from just over your heart. Pulling back, he snarled, blood tainting his lips and dripping down his chin as he looked down at you, your chest heaving with a powerful need like nothing you’d ever felt. The pain washed in pleasure called to you, and your toes pointed, taking every thrust of that cock, feeling the muscle strike you deep and relentlessly, shaking you to your core.

You held on for dear life, blood splattering as it dripped from his lips and landed on your chin and cheek—and as you watched him, you swore you’d never seen anything more alluring in all your life. Growling, he would force himself down, claiming your lips, blood smearing between them. Forcing his tongue into your mouth, you tasted the essence of your own life, the copper on your tongue making you feel sick with pleasure, your mind swimming in it, your hands dropping down to the backs of his hips, your legs hiking up to feel the full power of his movements.

He thrust deeper, faster, and with more feral, primal need, his hips slamming against you wildly, making you cry out loudly, feeling your release gaining on you. Orgasm prickled at your pelvis and you breathed heavily, breaking the kiss to do so, your entire body lit with raw nerves. You gasped, and he rolled his hips hard, facilitating the both of you to fall to your demise.

“A-ah, K-Kihyun—oh, my god…”

“God will not find you here—cum. Cum for me.”

You cried out, nearly screaming, your body clenching tightly and head falling back hard. You saw far away stars. You had never cum that hard in your entire existence, your body feeling as if it was passing into another realm. Every nerve that you had was on fire with pleasure, shaking you, fluid spurting from you and around his cock with each hard spasm of your muscles, milking him until he was a snarling mess—his orgasm hitting him in a shock of jerking thrusts, which he groaned and grunted through, his teeth bared and eyes focused on you as pleasure overtook him. You had never seen something so sexy in all of your life.

Your eyes settled on that choker, which he hadn’t taken off, and you tried to catch your breath, though you were still pulsing around him, the pleasure only slightly ebbing. You wanted to be closer to him, to absorb him into you, to become one with him in the most fatal of ways. “Please.” You whispered, reaching up to put a finger under that choker, pulling him down, “…Make me like you.”

Kihyun hesitated, but he opened his mouth wide, showing his fangs to their full extent, the needle point of them hypodermic and sharper than anything that man had ever fashioned. Your eyes widened, and you turned your head, baring your neck to him, the pulse of your veins dramatic after such an intense orgasm, your heart hammering in your throat, begging to be taken. You felt the cold of his lips—and then your world went black.

Death was an unforgiving mistress. It did not judge, nor did it condescend. It came upon man, woman and child alike. It was merciful, yet cold. Fulfilling, yet hideously cruel. It answered to no man and was brought about by no God. Death simply was. It had become you, and you it.

The vampire walked alone, the night flitting through the widows of the mausoleum, with no one at his side to bathe in it with. The candles played of skin like glass, lips like rosebuds, tainted with the blood of the innocent, dripping and coagulating as it turned to pitch. Lifting a hand, Kihyun wiped a droplet from his bottom lip, licking it from his digits, eyes rolling back as he savored the blissful taste of pheromone laden blood.

Glancing back to your body, which lay lifeless atop the stone, the vampire would hum gently to himself, pulling at the fabric of his shirt a bit, framing the perfect lines of his torso. Moving closer, he would run fingers over your cheek, touching the still pulse points, the blood no longer present, your body nothing more than a husk of what you once were.

“Soon…my dear, you will become dust…and only then will I release you—

–Into the night.”

Admin Death

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hypah-bomb · 2 years ago

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#《Visage》' The main attraction has arrived'#gif warning #you know #if i saw a 6'4 fabio looking motherfucker dodging bullets and using some weird hand slash beam shit to cut a missile in half #i'm fucking retiring on the spot

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andimthedad · 5 years ago

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Road Trip: Eastward Day 4: Rocks, Rushmore, Badlands, Dignity, and more

This summer, the kids and I embarked on a 10,000-mile cross-country road trip from Washington to Maine and back. Along the way, we got a brief taste of America through landmarks and sights that represent our nation, for better or worse.

Read notes from every day of the trip:

Eastward: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Westward: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12.

And various posts from the FAQ.

Ken's Minerals & Trading Post, Custer, South Dakota

If you collect rock specimens, shops like Ken’s are irresistible. We hadn’t planned on stopping here, but the massive piles of rose quartz outside caught our attention, especially at a dollar a pound. Inside was a huge variety of specimens, fossils, and locally-made jewelry.

For example, here are a couple of selenite specimens we bought: first, as a sheet; second, as desert roses.

An older man was staffing the counter, knowledgeable about the rocks in the store and around the area. I asked if he was Ken. He chuckled. “No,” he said. “Ken has been gone for a long time. His sons run the store now. I just work here.” And he told us the store’s origin story.

Back in 1926, Ken and his wife were in facing some tough times financially, so the wife set up a little stand at their house to sell vegetables. With all the natural attractions in the area, a number of tourists stopped by. But instead of buying vegetables, the tourists wanted to buy the rocks that the couple had for lawn decor. So Ken and his wife followed the money: instead of selling vegetables, they sold rocks. And thus Ken’s Minerals & Trading Post was born.

We probably bought too many rocks. But, it’s a really nice rock shop.

Mount Rushmore, Keystone, South Dakota

Mount Rushmore is pretty straightforward: the faces of four major American presidents carved into the side of a mountain. Despite their grand 60-foot-tall visages, they kind of look bored instead of thoughtful.

The four presidents were chosen by the artist, Gutzon Borglum, to represent four stages of American history: George Washington for the birth of America; Thomas Jefferson for its growth; Theodore Roosevelt for its development; and Abraham Lincoln for the preservation of the country. Sculpting began in 1927 and was completed in 1941.

Allegedly, Mount Rushmore was named after a lawyer for a mining company, Charles Edward Rushmore, who spent time in the area with mining prospectors. He asked the prospectors the name of the mountain, and they said it had no name, so they named it after him. Here is how it looked in the late 1800s:

Photo from the National Park Service.

It’s an interesting memorial, but it’s hard to imagine going often.

Wall Drug, Wall, South Dakota

This is one of those self-made landmarks: a huge, sprawling maze of rooms to buy all kinds of souvenirs and other stuff. It’s like a strangely-designed mall, except all the stores are owned by Wall Drug. You can also eat there. And you know this before arriving because Wall Drug has a zillion billboards along the highway for hundreds of miles in advance, advertising water and coffee and food and whatnots. They’ll probably be the first landmark to have billboards in space, if they don’t already.

Wall Drug started in 1931 by Ted Hustead, a Catholic pharmacist who wanted to work in a town where he could attend mass. As Hustead described it, business was terrible for the first few years, but then his wife Dorothy had the bright idea to offer free ice water to tourists driving past Wall on their way to other tourist sites. Immediately their business saw an upswing.

Today the ice water is still free and the coffee is still 5¢. Still, we didn’t buy anything, or eat anything, or drink anything — we were already well hydrated. But we did wander around boggling at all the trinkets until we found bathrooms. I doubt anyone sells a shirt that says, “I went to Wall Drug and all I did was pee.”

Badlands National Park, South Dakota

Not far from Wall is the entrance to the Badlands National Park: nearly 250,000 acres of remarkably striking landscapes and natural beauty. We didn’t have much time, but we did drive the 30-mile Badlands Loop Road (Highway 240) to see the northern part of the park.

“I really wonder what the first humans thought when they saw this,” wondered Luke, age 14, in amazement.

“It’s almost like some kind of ancient war zone,” I said, “if the ancients had nuclear weapons.”

“If I didn’t know about modern science and religion,” agreed Luke, “I might wonder if the gods had a battle here.”

“Who won?” I asked. “Who lost?”

Prairie Homestead, Philip, South Dakota

You can’t exit northeast out of the Badlands without passing by the Prairie Homestead. It is a century-old relic of a pioneer family from 1909. Dug into the side of a hill and supported with a wood frame, the house’s walls are dirt bricks and its roof is covered in thick sod.

“Can you imagine trekking out here from the East Coast, digging a house out of the ground, and living in it all alone for a long time?” I asked as we stood inside the sod house, looking at the old walls papered with old newsprint.

Beth, age 11, shook her head. “It’s amazing the human race has survived.”

I thought the admission price was steep, but it is a unique artifact of history. Unusually, there are white prarie dogs everywhere.

Dignity Statue, Chamberlain, South Dakota

At 50 feet tall, this statue of a peaceful, thoughtful Native American woman is impressive, especially since you can walk right up to it and sit at its feet (or on its feet, if you choose; they're big enough).

The artist, Dale Lamphere, said,

“Dignity represents the courage, perseverance and wisdom of the Lakota and Dakota culture in South Dakota. My hope is that the sculpture might serve as a symbol of respect and promise for the future.”

Dignity can be found at the highway rest area in Chamberlain, South Dakota — a sentence that would not make sense in any other context. But she really is striking. The reflective blue tiles in her shawl turn and twinkle in the wind. I’ve read that there are lights on the tiles at night, but we were there during a sunny day.

World’s Only Corn Palace, Mitchell, South Dakota

Before the trip, I was amazed at the number of people who insisted we had to visit the World’s Only Corn Palace.

Dating back to 1892, the Corn Palace features enormous, mostly monochromatic brownish murals made entirely of corn cobs, using a dozen different varieties of corn to achieve variation in tone and color. They slice the cobs in half lengthwise, then nail them to the wall, updating the murals annually based on designs by local artists. They claim that it “is known around the world as a folk-art wonder on the prairie of South Dakota.”

There are several murals on the exterior of the building. The building is also a civic center with a large auditorium and a basketball court, so there are plenty more murals around the perimeter of the staging area inside. Apparently, USA Today named the Corn Palace one of the top 10 places in America for high school basketball, a factoid which baller Luke, age 14, has trouble believing. "This is just weird," he remarked, but he still tried on a corn cob hat for sale.

On the day we arrived, it appeared the front murals were in the process of being taken down. And with no impending events, the basketball court was turned into a souvenir shop.

Spirit Lake, Iowa

We drove out of the east side of South Dakota and briefly into Minnesota, then dipped south across the state line to Iowa for the night.

I’ll be honest: this stop was primarily a convenient way to check another state off the list. We did not see any actual sights there. Sorry, Iowa.

—

Unless noted otherwise, all photos are taken by the kids and I, and are shared under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license.

#road trip #south dakota #wall drug #badlands #mount rushmore #dignity #corn palace #iowa #rocks #selenite #parenting #parenthood #kids #dads #trip #travel #roadtrip

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hollywoodgothique · 5 years ago

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House Of Spirits: A Haunted Cocktail Soirée is a true original, unlike anything else we have experienced in Halloween 2019. Though the name would suggest a themed popup bar, House of Spirits is quite a bit more than that. It incorporates eclectic elements: performance, immersive experience, interactive costume party, and even haunted house walk-through. However, in the end, House of Spirits is none of those things but rather its own unique combination.

The premise is that you are attending a party in a house cursed by the macabre art of a grieving painter, created in the final desperate days of his life, which opened a portal not to his lost love but to dark realms whose denizens now haunt the premises, blighting all who live there. How closely you encounter these beings depends on which activities you choose to participate in, the sheer variety of which is guaranteed to satisfy the cravings of even the most omnivorous Halloween enthusiasts.

House Of Spirits Halloween Review: Ghost Ship on Land?

House of Spirits is set in the mansion that used to house Delusion Interactive Theatre.

House Of Spirits: A Haunted Cocktail Soirée is the creation of Meyer 2 Meyer Entertainment, whose personnel formerly ran the Los Angeles Haunted Hayride and currently produce Rated R: A Horror Speakeasy. House of Spirits might sound like juiced-up version of the latter, rebranded and moved to a new location for Halloween, but it actually has more in common with a nearly forgotten one-shot that the Haunted Hayride creators produced in 2011: Ghost Ship.

Ghost Ship was not a hit with the public; it was a great idea that failed to live up to its potential, offering a three-level experience – one for each deck aboard harbor cruise yacht, with ghostly hosts and entertainers on the main deck, a show on the upper deck, and a scary maze on the lower deck. The problem was twofold: the yacht did not provide a sufficiently spooky setting, and it was impossible to fit enough entertainment into its hull to fill the ninety-minute cruise.

House of Spirits takes this clever template and ingeniously applies it to an ominous mansion* in the West Adams neighborhood of Los Angeles, bringing to fruition everything that Ghost Ship sought to achieve. With the atmosphere and square footage Ghost Ship lacked, this magnificent venue houses an amazing three-level event in and around the building. On the ground floor, guests can mingle with their ghoulish host and hostess, listen to music, watch a puppet show, and imbibe a half-dozen cocktails (included with the price of admission). Upstairs, there is a strange sort of scavenger hunt of a most morbid nature. And in the basement are not one but two scare experiences. Additionally, there are gathering places outdoors, along with a strange little hovel where you will learn the secret responsible for the curse upon the haunted house.

Add it all up, and House of Spirits provides multifarious forms of malevolent entertainment nook and cranny of its haunted house – more than enough to justify the recommended two-hour stay.

House Of Spirits Halloween Review: Arrival

An outdoor lounge where guests relax before their appointed entrance time.

House Of Spirits: A Haunted Cocktail Soirée offers two arrival times on weeknights and three on weekends: 6:30pm, 9pm, and 11:30pm. It is not necessary to arrive precisely on time, but it’s a good idea if you want to see everything. The event can be crowded, with a line on the sidewalk to get through the security search and another line in the front yard to validate tickets.

If you happen to get in before your appointed time, there is a “lounge” (a small mobile bar beneath an awning, with some limited seating), where you can wait. This is one of two cash bars on the outside grounds, where you can pay for drinks above and beyond the half-dozen that come included with admission.

Eventually, you ghoulish host, Raul, shows up and fills you in on whatever details you need to know about the “party” he is throwing inside the house, whetting your anticipation with a promise of drunken revelry on the main floor and terrifying demonic encounters in the basement.

Perhaps most important, you receive a punch card for the six bars inside the house, where you will spend most of the ensuing two hours. Though it is easy to overlook in the excitement of the night’s debauchery, this card includes suggestions and questions that will assist your exploration of the mysteries haunting the House of Spirits.

House Of Spirits Halloween Review: Ground Floor

On this level, spirits both ectoplasmic and alcoholic flow freely, creating a gay and magnificent revel, with the help of six bars offering free drinks. Both Raul’s wife and his mistress float about, engaging their party guests in conversation and dropping suggestions about what parts of the house they may wish to explore. There is no preferred order to the evening’s diversions and delights, but there are lines to get both upstairs and downstairs, so it’s a good idea to divide your time wisely.

An invisible hand answers your questions.

Pastimes on the ground floor include a giant ouija board, with a planchette moved by an invisible hand spelling out answers in responses to spoken questions. (Sadly, the ghost’s identify seems to be that of Anton, the hosts’ recently deceased child.) There is an out-of-tune piano, but we wouldn’t recommend playing it, since there is entertaining live music in the next room from a variety of performers, on electric guitar or accordion.

Best of all is the macabre puppet show, in a small room just off the main entrance. While a ghoul-faced narrator recites grim and grisly ghost stories, two sinister puppeteers – their dark, skull-like visages almost invisible against the black backdrop behind them – enact the action, the movement of the puppets enhanced with novel sound effects: liquid poured from a cocktail shaker to simulate vomit, a plastic bottle crushed to simulate broken bones. Don’t miss your chance to enjoy at least one of these short performances.

This malevolent mistress of the house invites you inside.

Party Guests

Great party, isn’t it?

House Of Spirits: A Haunted Cocktail Soirée Halloween Review

Out of tune piano

Your Ghostly Hostess

Ghostly Accordion Player

Your Ghostly Hostess

House Of Spirits Halloween Review: Macabre Artists Named Francisco

Goya’s Saturn Devours His Son

There is one more important element of the ground floor presentation. In the gruesome Goya Gallery, art lovers may peruse a handful of disturbing canvases, such as Saturn Devouring His Son, one of fourteen “Black Paintings” created by Francisco Goya (1746-1828) during the final years of his life – a series which also included “Witches’ Sabbath.”

Though not on display here, one of Goya’s most famous works is The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters (1799), which depicts a sleeping artist tormented tormented by nightmarish visions of bats and owls, as if these apparitions will soon enter our world via the medium of the artist – a theme evoked in the back story of House of Spirits, which seems loosely inspired by Goya’s “Black Paintings.”

However, when you leave the ground floor to explore upstairs, you will learn that the artist whose work doomed the House of Spirits is Francisco Vega – not the renowned Spanish painter Francisco Preciado de la Vega (1713-1789) but a fictional character whose work was even more demented than that of Goya.

House Of Spirits Halloween Review: Upstairs

The staircase leads to a bizarre scavenger hunt.

On the second floor, a servant will inform you of the final, fateful days of Francisco Vega, who crafted six ghastly canvases shortly before his death. These Spirit Paintings, on display, contain clues to Six Keys, which may unlock the mystery of the House of Spirits.

After perusing the small gallery of horrors, you explore six rooms, each inhabited by someone or something depicted by the artist. These spectral phantoms (including a ghastly pregnant woman hoovering over crib containing a tiny skeleton- presumably Anton) may aid your in your search, but they will demand that you perform unpleasant actions to retrieve the keyes (reaching into bathwater for a rib bone is the least of it).

Some keys may not be easy to find, but if you persist in your quest, you will succeed, whereupon you deliver them to a strange character who marks you with a cryptic insignia on your hand or forehead, initiating you into the elite of the households inhabitants. Exactly what “benefits” accrue from this are unclear, but you may be sure they are of a nefarious nature.

Vega’s paintings hold clues to the Six Keys.

Expect to meet this creature in the flesh.

House Of Spirits Halloween Review: The Basement

After the upstairs scavenger hunt, there is nowhere to go but down – into the basement – where the true terrors lurk.

There are two attractions in the basement, each with its own entrance. One is a brief and eerie pantomime performance depicting Vega – deranged and eventually nude – creating his final work, a life-sized painting that opens a portal enabling a visitor from the other side to enter the earthly plane. Is this being angel or demon or neither? The answer to that question can be found elsewhere.

The second descent into darkness is the closest House of Spirits comes to offering a haunted house walk-through. Groups of half-a-dozen or so party guests are given mirrors and instructions to stand in pools of dim light, chanting “Molly Magpie, Molly Magpie, how did you die?”

This ritual extinguishes the light, allowing some denizen of darkness to manifest; then another pool of light appears, farther along, drawing your group deeper into the basement, where the ritual is repeated, again and again, each time with nightmarish results. There terrors invoked are all the more disturbing because they have materialized at your bidding, and the demons are not necessarily happy to answer your call.

Both experiences are delicious creepy, evincing the sort of demented artistry one used to see at the L.A. Haunted Hayride – less crude shock than carefully choreographed grotesquerie.

House Of Spirits Halloween Review: Exterior

The Mystery Solved

Exiting either basement attraction leads to the outside grounds, where you will find a second cash bar, a food vendor, and the Garden of Anguish, where you can relax among strange flora before reentering the House of Spirits.

Most important is a small hovel, easy to overlook in the darkness. An attendant should be outside to explain why you should explore its interior.

The entrance leads down to a confined space where you will see the pages of Francisco Vega’s diary projected on the wall, detailing the anguish that drove him to create his final sextet of uncanny masterworks and revealing the true nature of the being he inadvertently unleashed upon our world, dooming all future inhabitants of the House of Spirits.

House Of Spirits Halloween Review: Cocktails

Great party, isn’t it?

Six Spirit Paintings, Six Keys, Six Cocktails.

A key ingredient to the success of House of Spirits is the half-dozen miniature drinks included with admission. Guests receive one free drink at each bar inside the house, a bartender punching your card at each stop.

Offerings range from Goya’s Ghost (ginger, black currant, fire bitters, orange bitters) to Magpie (passion fruit puree, lime, agave, grapefruit, bitters. Each drink features a product by Don Julio, with guests choosing one of two options, such as tequila or vodka.

Though individually small, the creepy cocktails are collectively intoxicating, altering human consciousness to a level where it is more open to the contact with the spirit realm. By the end of the evening, contact with ghosts will seem like the norm.

Creepy Cocktails

House Of Spirits Halloween Review: conclusion

In case you have yet to unravel the mystery at the heart of this review, we had a supernaturally grand experience at House Of Spirits: A Haunted Cocktail Soirée. The $65 price tag may seem steep, but it is actually a bargain in terms of cost-benefit ratio. The myriad elements excel on their own terms, combining to form an amazing Halloween event unlike any other.

Footnote:

This is the same location used by Delusion Interactive Theatre on several occasions.

House Of Spirits: A Haunted Cocktail Soirée (Review) House Of Spirits: A Haunted Cocktail Soirée is a true original, unlike anything else we have experienced in Halloween 2019.

#Halloween 2019 #Halloween in Los Angeles #L.A. Immersive Experiences #Meyer 2 Meyer Entertainment

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emotionaldepravity · 6 years ago

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A Night At The Palace...

This is very different to anything else I have written. Basically, I left it general as possible for anyone to enjoy. There is nsfw at the end so be aware of that.

Imagine you are nobility, not very prestigious or rich, but still nobility and tonight you are invited to the palace for a party. Your parents dress you up in proper regalia and the finest clothes you have ever worn in your life. They are very excited that all of you had been graced with an invitation, and if they are lucky, they might just be able to form a proper alliance with other higher up families. Therefore, they have the tailors taken in your clothes a bit to properly show off your “assets.”

You had been anticipating the event all month, and as your carriage drew closer to the grandiose building, you felt a bit ill. Your loyal retainer took your hand to comfort you.

“Don’t feel afraid, I’m sure you will bring great honor to your house and yourself tonight. But don’t forget to enjoy yourself some too. You are young after all.”

You take these words to heart. Yes, you were still young for an adult, but in some way you knew that made you too old for fun. You had not planned to get married and here you were almost 21. It felt strange as any friend you had known was married or with child by now. You had hoped that perhaps these thoughts would leave you tonight, but your faithful servant was always there to say the wrong thing no matter their intent.

You grab at the hem of your clothes as you walk through the spacious and towering doorway of the palace entrance. As you stepped into the ballroom, you heard you name called along with the rest of your family’s. With each step down the stairs your eyes met a new face staring at you vehemently. You get a bit dizzy and look up to see the ornate chandelier hanging for the highest portion of the ceiling. You wonder if it has ever fallen to kill anyone before as you reach the bottom stair. Your led by your mother to the dining area and told to eat what you want quickly as once more guests had arrived that you would be quite busy.

The food, barely touched, smelled incredible to you. There were dishes you didn’t even know existed on the spread before you. You fill your plate in whatever way you desire. You don’t leave the vicinity of the table food to begin eating just to avoid having to come back for more drink. You watch as others, interest now peaked from your actions, fill plate after plate to take them to where their families were currently. One man in particular caught your eye.

Your heart stopped for a moment as you watched the King of this palace and realm walk up to you and grab a goblet without a word. You weren’t sure what to say nor where you sure why he of all people would be getting the drink for himself.

“Your highness,” you start but you stopped before continuing. What right did you have to question his actions after all?

You had never seen him up close before which seemed like a damn shame. He was incredibly attractive to you. You knew that it was impolite to look upon those of much higher rank as if you had a chance with them, but you didn’t dare look away. His cologne was a bit strong, but the light numbing sensation that washed over your brain made you feel a bit more focused on him. Coming to that realization that his eyes ran over your form, your face burned like you had been standing to close to a bonfire.

As he walked away you weren’t sure if he flashed you a smirk or scowled. You felt a bit jealous of the ladies surrounding him when he returned the main portion of the ballroom. They seemed a bit perturbed that he had left his throne for any purpose, but they slowly seemed to fall back into fake laughter and smiles. You couldn’t guess at their words due to the distance, but you were sure that your presence over here was not of any importance to them. You felt relieved and returned your attention to eating once more.

It didn’t take much longer before the nobles your parents were waiting for arrived. You leave whatever is left on your plate to act as the proper heir you needed to be tonight. The guests took up most of your time with dancing and casual flirting. You didn’t mind it, but you couldn’t help but find yourself staring at the man who had caught your eye. You felt a bit embarrassed that your father kept elbowing you to pay attention, but it was hard not to want to admire the most handsome man you have ever seen. Occasionally, you’d lock eyes with him, and you’d earn a smirk from your better. He seemed to quite enjoy the attention.

After another quick dance with the eldest son of the other noble house, your eyes returned to the King. With how late into the night it had gotten, you were surprised at how few of the ladies surrounded him like before. Surely, you thought, it was time for him to leave the party with whoever he planned to bed that night. But the frown upon his visage made you a bit fearful especially since it was directed at you. He removed himself for the irritated pose he was in and started to make his way through the crowd. The fear in your heart dared to creep onto your face as he stood towering over you.

“So you, a low noble, think you may flash your doe eyes all night without even coming up to me. You have caught my attention, and you have made me come take what you seem to be too afraid to beg for.”

You aren’t sure what to say. It was true you had imagined him doing this very same thing earlier in the night save for the intimation, but now that he was here just a breath away you were frozen.

“Speechless again? Very well, let your King show you what your heart desires.”

He offered his arm which you quickly took. His expression seemed a bit softer as he prepared to dance with you. Though you weren’t the best at it, you were quick to mirror his more sophisticated steps. Your senses felt honed in as again your body felt blanketed by his cologne. He made sure to complement you on this. You felt like as long as it was with him you could perform any feat, any task as long as he was there to guide you or encourage you. You weren’t sure what exactly you were feeling, but you didn’t want it to stop as the each song ended. However, he never let you hip or hand go. The distance between you never seemed to grow in fact you two were as close as your outfit allowed.

The last song was played and all the guests started to leave. You expected him to leave you to return to his life, but he dared not move. If fact as you turned to leave, he locked his fingers with yours.

“It might seem like an honor, too great for you but if you are willing, bed me tonight. I’d like to see if you have the courage to take what you desire, if you truly do.”

He let go and turned away. Now was your chance. Would you take it or would you go back to the life you had known with only a taste of something greater lingering on your tongue? You thought back to earlier in the night. Yes, you were young, and you deserved to grasp your desires with both hands without fear or regret. You couldn’t care what your parents would say after hearing of your deviancy. The King expressed his desire for you, not anyone else but you. It didn’t matter if you’d be considered a whore or damaged goods because tonight you’d know what it meant to be favored. And oh how favored you would feel.

You ran toward him grasping his arm as you weren’t fast enough to catch his hand.

“A quick response. This is most welcome.”

Without hesitation, he grasped your hand once more to led you to his chambers. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to speak. He did not attempt to carry a conversation with you though he made sure to make eye contact with you over and over. You were sure he was checking to make sure you were serious, and each time you made sure the glance was met with a half-lidded, desire filled expression. Hopefully, that was enough to convince him. He opened the door to reveal the most incredible bedroom you had ever seen. It filled you with great excitement to be able to stay the night in here with this handsome man. You were quick to say your name properly as you never even thought to introduce yourself. He was a bit amused and returned the favor.

The party felt like a long time ago, as he spread you open for him. He hummed in pleasure seeing you finally exposed to him. You would have never imagined that you would be taking the King’s cock by the end of the night. The light-hearted laugh he made at your gasp at his initial penetration made your body melt. What a glorious sound to be allowed to hear! It felt as if the Gods themselves had gifted him the ability to make such music. He mused a bit over how tight you were, and over how you should have mentioned your need for stretching, but at some point, you told him it didn’t matter. In truth you were right. whatever pain you had from the initial was long gone and replaced with unspeakable pleasure. His scent, his voice, his thrusts were all that mattered to you in that moment.

Your body shuddered as his penis brushed past your most sensitive spot. He growled at the sudden extra pressure on his member. You had no control over your moans as he managed to hit that spot over and over and over. His lips were quick to reach yours when you almost screamed. He loved your excitement, but the inhuman screech was too much even for him. Your tongue explored his mouth as you carded a hand through his hair. Nothing in this world tasted as good as him. It was unfair how much your desire for him grew each time he let you experience new things about him. You hated that you were totally enamored with this man, and yet you were so deep that you could not deny yourself the pleasure of finishing what was already happening.

Filled with extra vigor you tried to meet him with each thrust. You hoped that this would help your lover climax as you felt yourself oh so close. Luckily for you, he was. Though he mentioned he was going to come he gave no indication of pulling out. You smiled at the thrill of such an honor. In fact, you were prepared to beg him to penetrate you again if he had. He made sure to yell your name as came, and that was enough to push you right over the edge. With each twitch of his cock, you felt your insides become covered in his seed. You were sure that there was no greater feeling than this.

#x reader #King x Reader #imagine #general reader #ficlet #I think I'll do it like this #any king #from anything #have fun my dears #I had a lot of fun writing this #not sure how to tag #smut #original content

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impracticable-dreamer · 7 years ago

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Seasonal Drinks 101: A Barista Taxonomist's Guide to Overpriced Coffee Nomenclature

Okay. So I decided to place my stories on Tumblr starting with my oneshots first because why the hell not. X) Special thanks to @introvert-dragon who has been so kind as to walk me through how Tumblr works because I am Tumblr illiterate and who was so patient with me over Discord even though it took me 30 minutes to figure out how this site works.

You may also read this post over on FanFiction or AO3.

"This is my table."

It's sometime during the fall season, just in the middle of September, when she first meets him. She's in her third year at Berk University, and she's on her way to get her caffeine fix at the local coffee shop, so aptly named The Edge Café since it was just a walking distance away from the edge of the University's premises. She usually gets her coffee at one of the canteens of the University, but today is a Thursday—the one day in the week in which she was free to study—so she plans to indulge herself with the coffee blends of her favorite coffee shop for her study session.

Unfortunately for her, there's a renovation on the second floor of the café, so the first floor—where her favorite spot is located—is more jam-packed than usual, with the students making do of what available seat was left. It was Thursday after all, and the students were eager to do some last-minute studying for the last school day of the week. ("The Meade Hall on Friday nights for party and booze, The Edge Café on Thursday afternoons for coffee and books!" her fellow students would recite around occasionally.)

She places her bag on her favorite table at the same time someone else places books on the same work surface. Slightly huffing, she looks up to glare at the perpetrator, and she is surprised to be greeted by a beautiful pair of forest green eyes behind thick-rimmed eyeglasses.

He is ridiculously attractive.

His hair is a messy mop of soft auburn tresses, sticking around everywhere yet still able to adorably frame his face. Freckles liberally dust his visage, highlighting the creaminess of the expanse of his skin and the brightness of his big, green eyes. The stubble on his impossibly straight jawline is strangely pleasant to look at, too. He looks lean, but nothing in his built suggests that he's weak, and the crisp white of his button-up top matches well with his skin tone.

"I don't see your name on it, though?" he replies as if it was a joke, his voice rather nasal yet surprisingly endearing. By this time, a barista has approached them to offer her assistance.

She glares even more at him, not backing down.

"This is my de facto table," she insists, clutching a chair tightly to emphasize her point. "I've been using this spot ever since the shop first opened over a year ago. I suggest you try some place else."

"Actually," the barista—a girl she remembers as Heather—starts, "he is the ow—"

"—My apologies," the man says before Heather can finish, "Please take the table, then. I wouldn't want to intrude."

He gives her a small smile, crooked and awkward but surprisingly adorable. She wants to return it, to thank him for his politeness, but all that contorts on her face is a grimace. He doesn't seem to mind it as he has already walked away after getting his engineering books on the table and thanking the barista, and was now on his way on the table opposite hers on the other wall. She notices that he also has a faintly awkward gait, like he was slightly limping.

"Your usual, then?" Heather directs the question at her and she nods, setting herself on the chair. After an affirmative from her, Heather then approaches the man to take his order.

Astrid takes out her Chemistry books, laptop and notebook while waiting for her name to be called, trying to get a head start on studying. However, her eyes wander to the table opposite hers where he is settled.

The main reason why she liked her particular table, other than the fact that she could see people who were coming and going from the café, was because of the lighting it offered: since the wall was made of glass, it afforded her natural light that wouldn't strain her eyes when she read her books and wrote her notes. During the fall season, the lighting was much more favorable, too, since the light wasn't too glaring and too hot.

This time, though, the lighting is distracting.

The light covers the man on the table opposite hers in some sort of glow, highlighting the planes of his freckled face and the sharpness of his jawline. They are seated in a way that they can see each other from their sides of the tables, so she doesn't miss the spark in his eyes as he focuses on the entries on his textbooks, doesn't miss the graceful jerkiness of his hands as they push his glasses perched on his nose, doesn't miss how his pink lips purse and alternately open slightly as he ponders on his notes.

She briefly wonders if his lips are as soft as they looked.

Heather's voice snaps her out of her stupor.

"Signature Spice Flat White, and dark chocolate brownies for Astrid!"

She stands up to collect her order, and she hums to herself as she sets the concoction on the table, a fusion of espresso shots and spices, topped with whole milk micro foam. She sits on her table just as the man on the table opposite hers stands up to collect his. She notices his graceless stride again, and promptly realizes that he had a prosthetic leg on. But she doesn't linger on it as it doesn't really bother her; instead, her eyes wander even further up. She does not miss how his pants are tight, how the fabric molds to the shape of his backside, and her jaw almost drops at the sight.

Damn, he had a fantastic ass.

Before someone notices her checking out a stranger—a hot stranger but still a stranger nonetheless—she hurriedly grabs her earphones to tune out her surroundings. She tries to distract herself from any more diversions, willing her mind to focus on studying while the music from her earphones drowns her in her study playlist. The music blaring from the buds does not drown out Heather's voice, though.

"Cinnamon Apple Spice Herbal Tea for—"

Astrid coughs on her drink upon hearing the silly name that came next, almost spilling coffee on her shirt. He looks over at her table in concern, and she curses at herself for being so affected by his name. But she can't help it, not when this hot stranger had a name as amusing as—

"—Hiccup!"

She decides that there are too many apples in her order today.

She doesn't usually mind drink names, no matter how long or how pretentious they sound; for as long as she tastes the caffeine in the blend, then the drink could be named either Special Holiday Pumpkin Spice Unicorn Concoction Mocha Latte or Overpriced Piece of Coffee Shit for all she cared. However, today Ruffnut convinces her to try the Cinnamon Apple Cider Latte instead of her usual flat white, and she absentmindedly pairs it with caramelized apples and almond brittle. She realizes too late that the taste of apple has overwhelmed the overall palate of her order, but she's grateful for the hint of cinnamon and cider in her drink. And the caffeine. She's thankful most of all for the caffeine.

Because the caffeine positively stops her eyes from wandering to the wiry frame sitting on the table opposite hers. And when he stood up earlier to get his order of Jamaican Hibiscus Iced Tea, the caffeine definitely prevented her eyes from lingering on his ass for a second… or five.

(Who was she kidding?)

Hiccup.

Really, his name is an understatement to his attractiveness.

He's studying intently again, pouring all his attention on his books and occasionally, on the Jamaican Hibiscus Iced Tea that he ordered today, giving special attention to the straw of the said iced tea. She notices in excruciating slow motion how his tongue darts out first before his mouth engulfs the straw between his lips, notices the way his mouth nibbles on the straw, trapping the plastic between his teeth and sipping on it every now and then.

She has never been so jealous of a straw before.

Damn it.

She sighs as she stands up from her table and orders the strongest black coffee that they could offer.

She determines that she needs more caffeine content today if she wants to get some studying done instead of focusing on the inconveniently good-looking customer before her.

She doesn't get to observe him the next Thursday.

She arrives later than usual on that day, and her de facto table has been overrun by younger students clamoring to do last-minute cramming. She scans the rest of the coffee shop for any other available seat, but it seems that all of them has already been occupied. She silently berates herself for her tardiness that has resulted to a lack of available seats for her. She gives a swift glance at his table, and she observes that he has already been absorbed in his own studying.

Better luck next time, then.

Before she leaves, she passes by the counter to give parting words to Ruffnut, just right after a girl has ordered for a Trenta, no foam, five-shot half-caf, no foam pumpkin spice latte with no foam at an impossible two hundred and ten degrees. After an entire argument lasting almost fifteen minutes—"Look here, rich kid, who gets five shots of espresso and heats coffee to two hundred and ten degrees? You might as well have murdered the latte and sent its soul to the coffee gods!"—Ruffnut manages to look up from behind the counter to grin at Astrid.

"Seems I've lucked out, Ruff," she mutters regrettably at her favorite barista. "I'll see if I can get a seat next time. Looking forward to your holiday flavors!"

"Any suggestions from our favorite patron, then?"

"Make Yaknog for Snoggletog," Astrid replies, returning a mischievous smile. "You still got the recipe I gave you before, right?"

"Ugh," Ruffnut groans in disgust. "More like Yuck-nog, Astrid. That recipe was horrible! But I'm willing to make it again if it sends Snottykins to the hospital like last time. They'll never know the difference between poison and Yuck-nog!"

"Hey, I'm a shieldmaiden-slash-Valkyrie who happens to study Bio-Chem at Berk U," she defends herself, shrugging. "You're the barista, you make it work. Else, I'll have to order for a Trenta, no foam, five-shot half-caf, no foam pumpkin spice quad soy hexagon vortex ugg boots spray tan latte with no foam at two-ten degrees."

Ruffnut sticks out her tongue at Astrid, and Astrid laughs and winks before she leaves the café to head for the library. Looks like it's going to be cheap cafeteria coffee for her today.

She arrives later than her usual time again next Thursday, courtesy of a Netflix marathon the previous night, and to her dismay, the café has already been filled with students. She almost leaves when Heather calls for her attention and points at her usual table.

To her surprise, her de facto table has been untouched despite the number of students, the surface area clean and shining as if it has recently been polished. What's more, there's a cup of coffee and a plate of apple spice granola that has been placed there, and she stares hardly at the table, perplexed.

Was this hers? Last she checked, reservations were not possible in the café to accommodate the number of students, and she most definitely didn't order anything in advance.

A note on the table catches her attention, and she grabs it so that she could read.

For the self-proclaimed Valkyrie who keeps on staring, it reads, here is a Hazelnut Peppermint Mocha—or alternatively, as I'd like to call it—That Holiday Shit You Can Actually Make At Home But You're Still Buying It At Ten Times The Cost In This Café Mocha. It's not the Trenta, no foam, five-shot half-caf, no foam pumpkin spice hexagon spray tan hypotenuse latte with no foam at two-ten degrees you had thought of getting, but I hope it would suffice. :)

Astrid blinks.

She doesn't know if she's flattered that someone would think of reserving her table for her and buying her drinks, or if she's insulted that someone would so blatantly accuse her of staring impolitely. She makes a quick scan of her immediate surroundings, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary from the usual patrons of the coffee shop.

Her eyes roam the table then, and settles on the drink with her name sprawled on the side, complete with a frothy top and dark chocolate curl toppings. She grabs it and take a tentative sip. A taste of bittersweet mocha with hints of hazelnut and peppermint zing delicately assault her senses. The extra shot of espresso and steamed milk comes in as an aftertaste, but the transition of the flavors is surprisingly pleasant.

Not bad for overpriced coffee.

She whips her head around again to look for anyone who's observing her, waiting for anyone to come up to her and introduce himself. Or herself. It doesn't matter, really.

"One order of Ruby Spice Cider tea with honey for Hiccup!" Heather calls out.

Said guy stands up from his seat and comes up to the counter, and Astrid spares him a short glance. Their eyes make contact, and she feels her heart skip a beat as he blushes when their orbs clash. He immediately averts his eyes and scratches the back of his neck while walking past her to get his drink.

Bingo.

She smiles to herself as she settles in her chair, content with the surprising turn of events.

She goes to the café extra early next Thursday.

She's not a tea person, she never was, but she's scanning the seasonal tea blends of the café anyway, looking for a concoction that he might like. She settles on muffins and Pumpkin Pie Herbal Tea—whatever that means—and places it under his name. She practically begs Heather and Ruffnut to reserve Hiccup's usual table, and she's surprised that they agree so easily. Grabbing her notebook, she tears a page away and scribbles down a note.

For the talking fishbone who needs more caffeine intake, thanks for last week's coffee! I've ordered tea for you as payback. It's called Pumpkin Pie Herbal Tea, which I believe should be translated as Obligatory Autumn Tea Blend. I've no idea if this is actually good, but it sounds fancy, so. :P

She settles in her usual table, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible with her assortment of cupcakes and her Toasted Pecan White Chocolate Mocha—Heather's suggestion this time—despite the fact that her brain is restless with nervousness and her heart is irregularly palpitating in anticipation.

More students file into the coffee shop, but Ruffnut and Heather diligently redirect them to other parts of the café, leading them away from Hiccup's usual table.

The door to the café opens again, and Hiccup finally saunters in, flustered and seemingly disoriented. She tries to surreptitiously observe his actions, and her body practically freezes in a mix of excitement and nerves as he approaches his table and reads her note.

His head snaps towards her direction suddenly, and they lock eyes again for a moment, an electric jolt shooting up her spine at the eye contact. His eyes are gentle and pretty, bright yet unassuming, and just so very mesmerizing that she almost forgets how to breathe. She hurriedly tears her eyes away when she could take no more if the intensity, and pretends to focus on her notes.

She realizes that she's blushing, and she berates herself at her childishness. Astrid Hofferson does not blush.

But her cheeks are heating up, and she doesn't know if it's from getting caught or from realizing that she has gotten herself a stupid, childish crush.

The next few Thursdays are a blissful blur.

The renovation of the café is halfway finished, with the original plan to complete the reconstruction just in time for Snoggletog—that Viking version of winter holidays that Berk U has adopted, not so different from Christmas, just with more booze.

They have settled on an unspoken agreement of buying drinks for the other alternately every week, with the one paying for the drink for that week coming extra early to reserve their tables, and the other deliberately arriving late for the surprise drink. She doesn't know why the baristas so leniently went with the arrangement, agreeing to the reservations even though it was technically not allowed, but she supposes it's one of the perks of being a favorite patron of the café.

Hiccup's note that came with the drink and dessert taunts her the next Thursday—Is that how you call someone who has just reserved a seat for you? I must remind you that in the spirit of Christmas, you must remain civil with me, Shieldmaiden. Name calling shall not be tolerated. :P In the meantime, have this two-shot Vanilla Nougat Panettone Latte, which should be known as Arbitrary European Biscuits In A Coffee Cup with an extra shot of Shut Up, I'm Studying. Enjoy!

Astrid hums as she tastes the blend, a curious fusion of bread and butter flavors with steamed milk and espresso topped with dried fruits. It's an interesting match for the honey pumpkin bread that it is paired with. She responds to the note the next week—

Christmas doesn't come until December, Muttonhead. What do you suggest, though, Oh dear savior? Will terms of endearment work? O.O Here's Spiced Winter Ginger Plum Tea, which is supposed to be a 'dreamy blend of fruit and blossoms accented with plum and ginger,' but I think it should be called Why Are Flowers Included in a Premature Winter Drink?

She watches as he snickers at her reply, and he responds to her in the following week.

Fancy titles would do. Now, you may call me the Great Dragon Master Overlord. No other title is more fitting than that, M'lady. X) Try this double Gingerbread Toffee Nut Latte for today, or Random Christmas Desserts in Coffee with an extra serving of Fuck Midterms.

His reply the makes her laugh softly, and she tastes the cup, noting the delicate mix of sweet and spicy gingerbread flavors mingled with toffee, an extra shot of espresso and steamed milk. The drink is finished with a film of micro foam and ground nutmeg, and it is a pretty sight to see next to the salted almond truffles that the drink is paired with. She's usually indifferent to how food items are paired, but she can't help but feel impressed at his food selection.

She offers him a big, playful grin and a quick thumbs-up from her table, which he returns with a fond smile.

She wants to order a special drink for him the next week, and she realizes during the process of selecting tea that the drinks that she receives from him were not on the menu, even on the café's seasonal selection of blends. She realizes that they were off-the-menu, custom-made drinks.

Before Hiccup arrives that day, she calls on Fishlegs to ask for the best barista that they have in hopes to also order custom-made tea.

"He's not here," Fishlegs murmurs in reply. "He's usually not on duty on Thursdays until the weekend."

"That's a lax number of days off," she comments offhandedly, slightly annoyed.

"Well," Fishlegs ponders, "he's technically not required to come to the café at all since he's the owner and he can come and go as he pleases; still, he's here sometimes to create blends and experiment with coffee for our seasonal collection."

"Oh," Astrid replies softly, then her face grimaces in confusion. "Why haven't I met this guy before?"

"He's only just enrolled at Berk U this semester for his Masters. He graduated in Boston for his engineering degree, but he's taking up his Masters here since it's closer to his home."

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she doesn't hide her surprise, impressed. "He sounds like an interesting guy."

"He is," Fishlegs confirms. "He makes the best blends, you know. Notice the increase in customers for the coffee shop this semester? They're usually here for his creations. And on days when he spends his time not as a barista but as a customer, he pays for his order like all the other patrons."

"But he's not here today, though," she huffs in annoyance again. "Wait, if he's not here on Thursdays, then how the hell does Hiccup provide me with off-the-menu drinks?"

Fishlegs shrugs, seemingly tight-lipped about it, but she does not miss the glint of amusement in his eyes. He urges then that she order soon because of the increasing number of people in the line, and she ends up ordering one of their best-selling tea blends. She decides that she'll just make it up with her notes, then.

Hiccup arrives much later, and she watches him go around his table to collect his note. He blushes, flustered at her writing on the note, and she smirks at his reaction.

Here's Almond Sugar Cookie Black Tea for you today, or as I'd like to call it, Fancy-Ass Tea Worth Ten Books. Nah, I'll just call you Babe. You won't mind that, right, Babe? ;)

It's chaos in the café the next Thursday.

She arrives later than normal as she has planned, considering that it's his turn to pay for drinks now. To her dismay, her usual table has been taken over by other students, four people huddling on the table meant for one. She glances over to his table, and her body freezes. There's a lump in her throat, and for once in her life, she is speechless.

There's another girl in his table.

She's beautiful and blonde and sexy—the bombshell type that any girl would want to kill for. She looks sophisticated, managing to look sexy yet stylish, flirty yet refined. And she's whispering in his ear, her body seemingly too close to his for comfort. He doesn't seem to mind, though, laughing at something that she's whispered, and his eyes sparkle as he looks over at her giggling form.

Of course.

Of course, he's got a girlfriend.

How could someone so irresistibly good-looking stay single? Surely women were clamoring for his attention! She just thought—She thought she had a chance. She thought they had some sort of connection these past few days. She thought he liked her back.

Clearly, she thought wrong.

She wonders if she interpreted all the signals wrong. He was the one who started paying for her drinks, though, right? And what about those notes and sassy remarks? Surely those were signs that he was interested. Or did she just mistake his kindness for affection? Was she someone else for him, then? Another girl on his list of possible girlfriends, perhaps? Or a rebound?

(She doesn't miss the likeness between her and the girl with him in his table. How they were both blonde, both blue-eyed, and both dressed impeccably.)

Something seems to puncture her heart at the thought of it and it makes her head dizzy and her breathing laborious, but this looks like the most logical explanation. Hiccup and this girl must have broken up before he started becoming a customer of the coffee shop, but now that they're back together, he's taken the girl here with him. Yes, that was most likely it. She was a rebound.

The girl's quick kiss on his cheek and his indifference to it seems to confirm this.

Before she can dwell more on her thoughts, however, he notices her, and his eyes immediately widen. He abruptly stands up, calling out for her.

"Astrid—"

But she has already bolted from the café with unnatural speed, and he doesn't make it in time when he reaches outside to look for her.

She doesn't go to the coffee shop next Thursday. And on the next.

The days pass by in a blur, and she buries herself in books and notes and random shit so that she doesn't have to remember. She buys her coffee from the cafeteria every day now, and although it's shitty, she comforts herself with the thought that she's saving more since it costs at least five times lesser than the coffee served at The Edge Coffee Shop.

But she misses the café. She misses the smell of ground coffee beans and the comforting aura the café afforded when it wasn't so crowded. She misses Ruff's annoyance at privileged rich kids, misses Heather's brews. Hel, she even misses the ostentatious names of overpriced coffee blends.

(And she misses him, but she denies it as soon as the idea comes up in her mind.)

(It doesn't matter anyway.)

She doesn't know how many weeks has passed since that last encounter, but she remembers that it's on a Wednesday afternoon when she runs into Heather in one of the halls of the university.

"Where have you been?" Heather almost shouts when they see each other. "You never visit by the café anymore!"

"Around campus," she says, averting her eyes and trying to be as vague and safe as possible. She doesn't want any information about her reaching unwanted people. "I'm sorry, I just got busy."

"Well, you should come by soon," Heather insists. "We've missed you."

Astrid doesn't doubt that.

Heather adds, "He's missed you, too."

Astrid frowns. Now she doubts that.

"Don't say that—" Heather says and Astrid realizes too late that she's said that out aloud "—He still reserves your table, you know. He's made other blends exclusively for you, too. And he's very protective of your table, doesn't let anyone near it anymore except for him. He's pining for you."

She almost rolls her eyes. "I don't think his girlfriend would appreciate that."

"Ex," Heather clarifies. "His ex-girlfriend, Cami. They broke up three years ago, but they remain close friends. They're only just close friends now, you don't have to worry about anything." Astrid looks unconvinced, so she continues, "You must know that on that day, he did try to reserve your table, he really did, but—"

"—Look, it doesn't matter," she says finally, waving Heather off. "He doesn't need to explain anything to me. We don't owe each other anything. Odin, we're not even anything."

Heather is silent for a moment. "But you're not visiting the coffee shop anymore. There must be something wrong."

"I just don't see the need to pass by anymore," she lies, knowing full well that the coffee served there is one of the best she's tasted and it's almost a requirement when she needs a study session. "I've found another coffee source someplace else."

"But you know that we have the best coffee in Berk U!"

"It's all right, it's really only the caffeine I'm after, anyway. It doesn't matter how the coffee tastes like," she lies again.

Heather's fallen face almost makes her guilty. "But you still have to pass by one of these days. I'm never forgiving you if you don't, and Ruff won't let you off that easily."

"Yeah, I will," she says to appease her and to make her drop the subject. "But you have to tell him not to wait for me anymore. We've never even known each other, anyway. From now on, we don't have to reach out to each other."

She knows that Heather disapproves of it, but the barista still nods her head. They part ways then, to go to their respective classes.

She still doesn't go to the café at all after that.

She desperately needs coffee.

Specifically, she needs her favorite coffee shop's coffee.

It's already winter when she decides to go back to The Edge Coffee Shop. It's the week before the Holiday break, and everyone is clamoring to get hold of their caffeine fix. She knows that she has already resolved never to go back to the place, but she's desperate for caffeine fix, too, and the shitty cafeteria coffee won't cut it anymore. So, against the most rational part of her brain, she decides to get a take-out order from the coffee shop.

She's here for the coffee, she convinces herself.

(And she may want to get a glimpse of him just a bit. Just a little bit before the Holiday break.)

(She wonders if he still reserves her usual table for her.)

She's disappointed to see that her usual table has already been infested by first-year students, a small group of five trying to fit themselves in a table for one.

(See, Heather? He really didn't feel anything for her. At all.)

She spares a brief glance at his table, and she doesn't know if she's relieved or crestfallen to see that he's also not there anymore, the table also full of studying students doing last-minute cramming for the tests to be taken before the Holiday break.

Maybe he had already left for good.

Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she proceeds to the queue to line up for drink orders, adjusting the shawl on her neck so that she could breathe a bit more. The snow has already started to cover the entirety of the university grounds, and she has covered herself almost entirely for protection against the cold. She waits in line for her turn, trying not to scan the café to look for a familiar mop of auburn hair.

She's here for the coffee, she convinces herself again.

"My usual order of the signature Flat White with an extra shot of espresso, please," she tells Ruffnut who's absentmindedly checking the watch on the wall. "And please make that a take-out order."

"What do you mean by your usual, lady?" Ruffnut grimaces while fishing a pen, and Astrid realizes that she's sorely missed her antics. "And what's the name I should use—" Ruffnut freezes as she finally looks up at Astrid, and it takes her another few seconds to finally sputter out, "Oh my Thor!"

"Please forget my previous order. I'd like to have a Trenta, no foam, five-shot half-caf, no foam pumpkin spice quad soy octagon rifle spray tan latte with no foam at two-ten degrees," Astrid tries, chuckling a bit. "Hello to you, too, Ruff."

Instead of replying to her, Ruffnut looks around and calls out for Heather and Fishlegs, who are both busy on their own stations. They both look up, though, as soon as Ruffnut calls out for them. "She's here! She's really here!"

Heather and Fishlegs immediately leave their stations, and Astrid looks on curiously as they glance at her, faces immediately becoming excited. Fishlegs is next to her in an instant, grabbing her wrist to take her away from the queue. She raises a brow at Heather's and Ruffnut's grinning faces when she walks away.

"Wait, my order—"

"—You already have one," Fishlegs interrupts, leading her away from the line and deeper into the café. She notices that every seat in the coffee shop has already been taken, and she briefly wonders just how many customers the café already has.

"But—"

"—I'm taking you to the owner," Fishlegs says, waving her off again. "He's been waiting for you, you know. Everyday. He's the first to open the shop every day of the week—even on the weekends, mind you—and he's always the last to leave, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of you."

"What?" Astrid asks, confused. She realizes that they're heading for the stairs, and they take the flight of steps up towards the second floor. Renovations must have already been finished, then. "I don't even know him, why would he even wait for me?"

"He's given very specific instructions that if we were to see you in the café, we were to direct you here to the second floor, where he has reserved a seat for both of you."

"That doesn't answer my question…"

The view from the second floor is breathtaking, and she trails off and momentarily stops to marvel at the scene shown through the glass walls. The second floor is overlooking the entirety of Berk University, and since it has already begun to snow, the school grounds is covered in a sheet of white powder, making the entire place resemble a winter wonderland.

Fishlegs tugs at her wrist, and she follows him, taking her gaze off the view.

"When the renovations were done, he thought it best that instead of your usual seats near the door, both of you should just stay in the second floor where he got the seat with the best view for you."

She doesn't really listen to anything he says, her eyes now wandering to the interior of the second floor, which is liberally decorated in Christmas ornaments, most notably poinsettias and mistletoe. It's elegantly designed in a modernist setting, and it's also cozy, she supposes, but also full; it's less crowded than the first floor, but every seat is taken, and she wonders just how a seat has been reserved for her.

Fishlegs points at a table, then, and she approaches hesitantly while he follows behind her.

The table for two is notably situated underneath a mistletoe decoration, but as the barista has said earlier, it had the best view in the entire second floor, almost perfect for lovers. The owner's back is facing her, so she doesn't get to have a glimpse of his face.

"He's made a new coffee blend for you, too, by the way," Fishlegs whispers behind her, making her stop for a moment. "The owner made it himself over the last weeks. He got your yaknog recipe from Ruff and he's twisted it a bit. It's that one next to his Dark Chocolate Peppermint tea."

Astrid notices the mug of coffee next to the cup of tea on the table. She doesn't usually attach the word elegant to an object—much more a drink—but this mug of coffee is. The blend looks aesthetically pleasing, with a frothy finishing on top and a dusting of ground nutmeg and cinnamon. An interesting whiff of espresso and eggnog scents in the air is emanating from it as well.

Her thoughts leave the coffee blend and her eyes wander to the owner of the café, who would be the person sitting on the table with his back to her. She almost doesn't recognize the familiar mop of auburn hair that he possessed. And then it hits her—

"Actually, he is the ow—"

Last she checked, reservations were not possible in the café to accommodate the number of students.

She practically begs Heather and Ruffnut to reserve his usual table, and she's surprised that they agree so easily.

She realizes that they were off-the-menu, custom-made drinks.

"He's technically not required to come to the café at all since he's the owner and he can come and go as he pleases; still, he's here sometimes to create blends and experiment with coffee for our seasonal collection."

"He's made other blends exclusively for you, too."

—It's Hiccup.

It explains why he was able to reserve her table in the first place when reservations weren't supposedly allowed, and why Heather and Ruffnut were so lenient when she had first begged for the reservation of his table. It also explains why she always got special, off-the-menu drinks, for he had personally made them for her!

A thousand thoughts run through her mind at the realization, but the one that screams to her the most is that—fuck it, she should turn back and go now. Now.

Before she can run away, however, his neck twists at the noise, and she is frozen on the spot.

His emerald eyes that are framed behind thick-rimmed glasses lock with her sapphire ones for the first time in weeks, and she realizes that she has forgotten just how beautiful they were. A relieved sigh of surprise escapes from his lips, and he immediately stands up to face her. He releases a huge grin then, grateful and pleased and so undeniably delighted that she's overwhelmed by the raw emotions expressed on his face and she's compelled to stay and give him another chance.

"I—" he says uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks at her then, his gaze going from hesitant and reserved in one moment to determined and impassioned in the next, and she almost melts at the intensity of his stare.

He tries again—more resolute this time, but also more softly, "I've been waiting for you, M'lady. And I... I would very much be pleased if you could join me for a mug of Snoggletog Yaknog Spice Latte, or as I'd like to call it, the Astrid Death Tonic."

She laughs even before she can stop herself, and he gestures for her to take the last available seat in the café—

The same chair that is positioned right next to his.

E N D

#httyd #hiccstrid #hiccup #astrid #httyd fanfiction #au #modern au #coffeeshop au #repost from ff #repost from ao3

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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15 Best Game of Thrones Warriors

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Despite what some legendary TV actors might have you believe, Game of Thrones wasn’t all just “tits and dragons.” The eight-season HBO series based on George R.R. Martin’s sprawling A Song of Ice and Fire saga was far more sophisticated than the sum of its most prurient parts.

The series was an honest and in-depth exploration of political dysfunction. There were no easy decisions to be made and even the best deeds from the most pure at heart rarely went unpunished. Even factoring in its…less than superb final season, Game of Thrones was refreshingly complex pop entertainment for adults.

Now, this is all not to say that some of Game of Thrones more base elements weren’t appealing. In fact, all of the dragon-stomping, bone-crunching, sword-swinging radness was a major part of the rich tapestry that was the fantasy series. As Thrones reaches the 10th anniversary of its April 17, 2011 premiere (which HBO has dubbed the Iron Anniversary), there will be plenty of opportunities to examine all the high-minded literary features that made the show a phenomenon. But let’s make sure the blood and guts get their proper due as well.

Game of Thrones at 10: The Series That Changed TV Forever

By David Crow

Game of Thrones’ Westeros and Essos continents are positively fit-to-bursting with capable warriors – whether their main instrument of war be a sword, warhammer, bow, or arakh. Naturally, one of the Internet’s favorite pastimes is dreaming up which Thrones warrior is the best…because we’re all schoolyard children arguing amongst one another at heart. To honor this very important Iron Anniversary, we’ve decided to add our choices for best Game of Thrones warriors to the Internet canon as well.

Here are some important rules to consider. First, no animals. Sorry, Drogon and Ghost! Next, each warrior is judged by their skill at the height of their ability within the series’ run. This means that Jaime Lannister gets to fight with both hands, but Ser Barristan the Bold remains Ser Barristan the Old. Speaking of Jaime and Barristan, dead characters are eligible for the list because if they weren’t, it would be pretty short. Finally, only characters who spent the majority of their time within the series main timeline can be included. This restricts characters who appear only in flashback from making the list. That’s why you won’t see Ser Arthur Dayne among the combatants.

Without further ado…

15. Tormund Giantsbane

Discipline and skill may be prized in warriors throughout the Seven Kingdoms but north of The Wall, strength is key. And there are very few Free Folk stronger than Tormund Giantsbane. Sure, his given name is a bit of a misnomer. He doesn’t kill giants so much as he *checks notes*…suckles on giantess milk?

Well, however Tormund gets his calcium, it certainly does his body good. The kissed-by-fire wildling is the only man skilled and strong enough to serve as the most trusted lieutenant of both Mance Rayder and Jon Snow. He could certainly hold his own in a battle against either.

14. Beric Dondarrion

Strangely enough, Lord Beric Dondarrion’s biggest strength is also his greatest weakness. His ability to be constantly revived by his fighting partner Thoros of Myr is certainly useful in the long run, but it also robs him of an important trait any warrior must have: fear.

Beric may fear the metaphorical death encroaching from Beyond the Wall, but in a fight against any other mortal he is probably a bit less likely to properly protect himself. After all, why keep an eye on one’s heart when it can just be jump started by the Red God at will? Beyond his supernatural hook, however, Beric is a capable soldier. It was he who Ned Stark trusted to track down Ser Gregor “The Mountain” Clegane and bring him to justice. He failed in that mission, of course, but it’s still impressive he ever agreed to it!

13. Qhorin Halfhand

Who needs all 10 fingers when you’ve got the skill and constitution of one Qhorin Halfhand? Qhorin brings one of the most important traits to the table when talking about a Westerosi warrior: passion. He absolutely lives for this shit…and in fact, he happily dies for this shit as well.

Qhorin is the most capable and dangerous ranger The Night’s Watch has. He is equal parts feared and respected by his Wildling foes, which is particularly impressive given they neither fear nor respect just about anything. Qhorin’s injury to his right hand also turned out to be a bit of a martial blessing, as it meant he learned to wield a sword just as capably with his. Ambidexterity is a very useful trait in combat.

12. Brynden “Blackfish” Tully

By the time the events of Game of Thrones begin, the Tully family’s “Blackfish”, Brynden, is long in the tooth and has lost a step or two. Still, even at his advanced age he is one of the most fearsome fighters in The Riverlands, and the Realm at large.

How the Game of Thrones Play Fills a Major Gap from the Series

By Joseph Baxter

Can the New Game of Thrones Spinoffs Redeem Missed Opportunities?

By Joseph Baxter

Since Blackfish was in his prime during both the War of the Ninepenny Kings and Robert’s Rebellion, he participated in dozens of military battles.There may not be a more hardened or battle-tested warrior in Westeros. Then he “retired” to the title of Knight of the Gate in The Vale. They don’t hand that honor to just anyone.

11. Loras Tyrell

See Loras Tyrell may be paradoxically the most overrated and underrated warrior in all of Westeros. The smallfolk and less sophisticated noble men and women see him as perhaps the realm’s greatest fighter, due to his attractive visage and prowess in jousting tournaments. Meanwhile, the hardened soldiers view those same soft features and jousting skills with contempt, assuming Loras can’t be a “real” warrior.

Well, the truth lies somewhere in the middle. Loras isn’t a top 5 warrior in Westeros, but he’s damn near the top 10. Jousting and melee skills may not apply perfectly to the bloody heat of real battle, but they’re still useful in a combat. Plus, over Loras’s six season run on Thrones he gets plenty of opportunities to prove himself in war and acquits himself with honor each time.

10. Syrio Forel

Syrio Forel is a prime example of just how ill-equipped many of the warriors of Westeros are when they’re confronted with an unfamiliar fighting style. Syrio is far from the biggest or strongest sword fighter in the series. But the First Sword of Braavos and Arya’s “dancing teacher” is both agile and highly, highly skilled with his sword.

Syrio views his sword as an extension of his body. His steadfast dedication to his craft and years spent training in Essos have created a fighter so fearsome that he very nearly survives an encounter with three Kingsguardmen…while wielding a wooden sword. Our time spent with Syrio was brief so it’s unclear just how skilled he really is. That limited time was still enough to lock him into the top 10.

9. Ser Barristan Selmy

Ser Barristan The Bold is the platonic ideal of a chivalric knight. He is honorable, skilled, and widely beloved. As a younger man, he distinguished himself as a soldier in tourneys and in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. At his height, he was probably the most capable swordsman and warrior in all the Seven Kingdoms.

During the events of Game of Thrones, however, Barristan is not at his physical peak. He remains a remarkable fighter and warrior but his days as the top dog are likely over. Also, let’s not neglect to mention that, while honor is appreciated, it can be a detriment in a fight against some less than savory characters (which make up a significant portion of Westeros’ populace).

8. Sandor Clegane a.k.a. The Hound

If it weren’t for his taller, scarier brother, Sandor “The Hound” Clegane would be the most terrifying physical force in all of Westeros. This former Lannister loyalist is seven feet (in the books at least. Actor Rory McCann is 6’6’’) of pure rage and contempt. The Hound is profoundly disappointed in the state of the world and his fellow men, and he’s more than happy to take out that disappointment on anyone foolish enough to test him.

The Hound is a supreme mix of both skill and raw power. Put him in a melee and he’ll come out wearing a frown and dozens of enemies’ blood. Pit him one-on-one against just about anyone and he’ll likely survive the encounter as well. The only reason he’s not higher up on this list is that he has a pretty prominent weakness. Any bit of fire will destabilize the pyrophobic behemoth. Granted, the fire method didn’t work for Beric Dondarrion but it might work for someone more skilled.

7. Jon Snow

There’s not much that Jon Snow can’t do. The presumed bastard of Ned Stark, but the true son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, Jon Snow is as close to a traditional hero that this tale has. He’s imperfect, but honest and likeable. He’s a natural leader who hesitantly takes on the responsibility of shepherding The Night’s Watch, the Free Folk, and eventually the entire North. Jon Snow is such an impressive historical figure that it can sometimes get lost in the shuffle that he’s a tremendously capable warrior as well.

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Jon put his childhood training in Winterfell to good use and immediately became one of the Night’s Watch’s most useful swordsmen upon arrival at The Wall. Then, over the span of eight seasons, Jon’s martial prowess only grew. He has participated in more major battles than any other Game of Thrones character and has (mostly) survived them all. Jon’s place in the middle of the pack on this list isn’t an indictment of his abilities but rather an endorsement of all the great warriors above him.

6. Grey Worm

Look, the Unsullied are just not to be trifled with. The warrior-eunuchs of Astapor are bred, born, and trained for only two things: war and obedience. When Daenerys Targaryen purchased the Good Masters’ entire lot of Unsullied soldiers, she decided to free them and remove “obedience” from the equation. That gave her an army that was trained for war, but now had the agency to decide whether they wanted to pursue it. Turns out they did…for the right cause.

As the chosen leader of the Unsullied, Grey Worm is a prime example of just how effective a dedicated, well-trained soldier can be. Dany’s rare act of mercy and humanity unlocked Grey Worm’s true potential. Not only does he remain a truly great fighter, but he is a master tactician, and is now burdened with glorious purpose to bring freedom to the rest of the continent. Skills make a great fighter, but it takes a cause to make a great warrior. And that’s exactly what Grey Worm is.

5. Brienne of Tarth

In the Game of Thrones world, you can often judge a warrior’s skill by who they’ve defeated. With that in mind, very few characters have a more impressive resume than Brienne of Tarth…excuse us: Ser Brienne of Tarth. Brienne begins her journey by taking down all of Renly’s men in a tournament. Sure, they may be Knights of Summer, but they are well-trained and it’s a hell of a feat, nonetheless. After that opening salvo, Brienne goes on to defeat: Jaime Lannister, The Hound, and seemingly half the population of sellswords and hedge knights in the Riverlands.

Brienne is absolutely a top five warrior in all of Westeros. The only reason she’s not higher is that her opponents often come to a fight disadvantaged. Both Jaime and The Hound were exhausted and compromised in their respective fights. That’s not Brienne’s fault, as she can only fight the warriors the show places in front of her. It does hurt her “strength of schedule” a bit though.

4. Bronn

Most of the great warriors in the Seven Kingdoms are highborn. That makes sense as the noble Houses have money and therefore have access to training, equipment, and proper high-protein dies. But being highborn isn’t the only route to being a great warrior in Game of Thrones. Just ask Ser (eventually Lord) Bronn.

Bronn, son of no one in particular, is one of the best fighters in Westeros because his whole life has been one long fight for survival. He came from nowhere of importance and soon found that the best way to make money was with a sword. While the lords and knights of the country view battle as an exercise in glory, Bronn sees it as for what it is: dangerous, bloody, but necessary work. This mindset and a lifetime of training in Westeros’ back roads and alleys has created one hell of a warrior. Just ask Ser Vardis Egan…that is if his lifeless body can still hear you from the bottom of the Giant’s Lance.

3. Jaime Lannister

At his height, Jaime Lannister was quite simply the LeBron James of Westeros warriors (with Ser Arthur Dayne being the Michael Jordan, of course). Tywin’s eldest son was a tournament and war prodigy, reaching the knighthood at age 16 (he was even younger in the books). He came to prominence at an absurdly young age and then established a commitment to combat excellence well into his adult years.

While The Mad King’s decision to appoint Jaime to his Kingsguard was designed to spite Lord Tywin and leave him without a suitable heir, it must be said that Jaime was still a fine choice for the job. Jaime continued to distinguish himself in the early days of The War of the Five Kings before Robb Stark successfully captured him. Of course, shortly thereafter, Jaime lost his right hand to Locke. Though Jaime will still prove to be capable enough in later seasons without his sword hand, he’s obviously never the same fighter. And that’s a shame for this list as it would be interesting to see how a chastened, more mature Jaime would fare as a warrior.

2. Gregor Clegane a.k.a. The Mountain

The “gentle giant” is a popular trope both in the world of fantasy and reality. Game of Thrones even has a couple of its own gentle giants with characters like Hodor and even Wun Wun. It makes some intuitive sense to portray very large individuals as gentle because most people, big, small, and in-between, are fundamentally good. If you were enormous, wouldn’t you be extra mindful of how your size affects those around you?

Well, Ser Gregor Clegane a.k.a. “The Mountain That Rides” is the exact opposite of a gentle giant. Ser Gregor Clegane doesn’t have a heart of gold, he has a heart of roiling, volcanic hate. He’s also big…so, so freaking big. The Mountain is somewhere around eight feet and 400 pounds of pure muscle in the books and 6’9’’, 350 pounds in Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson’s depiction in the show. Every inch of him was seemingly built in a lab to be a fearsome warrior, so that’s the vocation he chooses.

When we think of Game of Thrones as a “grittily realistic” world, The Mountain is a prime example of why. Gregor is an unambiguous monster, and due to his sheer size and strength, he almost never loses a fight. The Mountain is a one-man army for the Lannister family, killing countless men, women, and children over the span of two wars, and many more during peacetime.

While it’s nice to think of David beating Goliath, the sad reality is that 99 times out of 100, Goliath is going to smash David into a million bloody pieces and use his little bones as furniture. Of course, The Mountain is eventually defeated by a David in the form of Oberyn Martell. That alone, is enough to keep him out of the top spot…and out of our nightmares.

1. Arya Stark

Perhaps it’s surprising to see Arya Stark at the top of this list in favor of countless other Game of Thrones warriors who are bigger, stronger, and more experienced. Or at least it was surprising to me as I came to the decision. But I would invite you to go on the same journey that I did and match Arya against anyone else in the Thrones canon and ask yourself the question “would Arya lose this fight?”

The answer I came to, time and time again, is a definitive “no”, and that’s not just because of the plot armor afforded to her as one of the story’s most important characters. Arya Stark is quite simply Game of Thrones‘ most effective and efficient killing machines. From a young age, she was proven naturally adept at all different kinds of combat. Recall her hitting a bullseye with a bow and arrow, Robin Hood style, in the series pilot.

From there, the She-Wolf has spent basically her every waking moment honing her fighting skills. This started with Syrio Forel’s “dancing lessons” before culminating with the most intense lethal training regimen anyone can experience with the Faceless Men in the House of Black and White. Arya received instruction from a guild of assassins so powerful in stealth, combat, and magic that their services cost roughly the same as an entire army. Then she left the Faceless Men so she is free to deliver the “gift” of death to whomever she wants, whenever she wants.

Admittedly, in any one-on-one matchup, Arya’s margin for error is incredibly small. She is not particularly strong and she is unlikely to wear cumbersome armor so any good blow from a sword or other bladed weapon is sure to be lethal. But of course, Arya has no plans of letting a blade touch her. She’s quick and elusive. And she knows that men are made of water – all it takes is one prick of a needle and they’ll bleed out.

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