(Untitled)
2010 WINTER OLYMPIC GAMES KINK MEME
Welcome to all winter athletes! This Winter Games is screaming for fic. Lots and lots of fic. So let's give them what they want! The set up is easy! Just (anonymously) post your favorite pairing, threesome, groupsome, etc., and a kink. All prompts are welcome, not just the kinky ones. If someone is interested, ( Read more... )
Welcome to all winter athletes! This Winter Games is screaming for fic. Lots and lots of fic. So let's give them what they want! The set up is easy! Just (anonymously) post your favorite pairing, threesome, groupsome, etc., and a kink. All prompts are welcome, not just the kinky ones. If someone is interested, ( Read more... )
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It came down to a train. Of course it did. These things always came down to a train and a train track, or a cliff and some sharks, or a six-fingered man and a torture machine inspired by Rube Goldberg. There must have been an unwritten law. Prince Stephane sighed. No matter what the peril -- locomotion, marine biology, a genetic anomoly with an inferiority complex -- as the prince, it was his job to save the day.
"These ropes are hideous," said the latest imperiled princess as Prince Stephane rode into earshot. "I mean really, this is sort of insulting. If I'm going to kick it, I'm not going to do it in beige. Banana Republic called and wants their color scheme back, could you be any more cliche?"
Prince Stephane reined in his snowy white charger and listened. Despite the mention of ropes, this damsel did not sound terrifically distressed.
"Silence!" roared the evil Baron Von Lysacek, today's villain du jour. Prince Stephane leaned around the tree behind which he was hiding to watch. The man was actually twirling his mustache. Prince Stephane rolled his eyes. "These ropes are Vera Wang and have feathers. We have delayed long enough. The Turin - Vancouver train does not run frequently, and now it is your time to die!"
"But they're beige!" wailed the princess. "At least give me the dignity of dying in pink! Pink ropes would be better."
"Be glad I did not wrap you up in burlap," said the Baron, at which the princess fell silent, contemplating the horrors of such a fate.
"That would chafe," she said eventually. Baron Von Lysacek merely grunted, and wrestled her bound form a bit further out onto the tracks.
The train was late -- yet another unwritten law, trains were always late to build suspense -- and the damsel had begun humming to herself by the time the tell-tale headlight showed in the distance.
"P-P-P-Poker face, P-P-Poker face," the damsel hummed, adding insult to injury by finding the need to stutter to stretch out the time still more.
"Oh, shut up," Baron Von Lysacek said cruelly. He truly was an evil man.
Finally the train showed over the horizon. Prince Stephane sighed with relief. This was his cue.
"Release her, villain," the prince shouted, stepping out from behind his tree.
"P-P-P-. Oh for Christ's sake," said the princess. Prince Stephane chose to ignore this.
"Never," said Baron Von Lysacek, as all villains must. "No, my prince, you are too late. The Princess Weir must die." He twirled his mustache a bit. "Muwha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
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"Villain, you will never triumph," Prince Stephane began the official Prince speech. "The forces --."
"Shut up!" the Princess Weir yelled. "There is a fucking train coming, get your ass in gear."
Prince Stephane blinked, taken aback, but soon realized that, unconventional as it might seem, there was a certain relief in not needing to finish the remainder of the Prince speech. Perhaps for once he could save the princess with time to spare instead of at the last second, and preserve them both from the near-heart-attack that seemed de rigueur of late in such situations.
"Yes, Princess," he said, and swooped to her side, his dagger flashing to free her from the (offensively beige, she was right about that) ropes.
"You cannot have her, she is mine!" shrieked the Baron Von Lysacek. "My rival and my enemy! You've no right --!"
"Sir," Prince Stephane began, but Princess Weir slapped a hand against his chest to silence him.
"We're leaving," she said, oddly regal in spite of so recently being tied up and begging for pink. "We'll no doubt meet again in some other country. We'll find some other way to compete. For now, you captured me but I escape and remain unbroken. Be satisfied with that, for the next time we meet, I will deploy Bad Romance."
Prince Stephane had the distinct feeling that he'd stumbled upon an enmity extending far beyond this one incident.
"For now," said the Princess Weir, "We're going." She leapt aboard the snowy white charger and looked down at the somewhat off-balance Prince Stephane, extending a hand in his direction. "Well, come on."
Prince Stephane took the proffered hand and swung aboard behind the princess, wrapping his arms around her and gently taking the reins from her grasp. She leaned back against his chest and seemed to snuggle. "The sunset's that way," she said, pointing.
"So it is," said Prince Stephane, and wheeled the horse in the correct direction. He had a sneaking feeling they'd meet Baron Von Lysacek again -- that hadn't sounded like a traditional villain's ending -- but the Princess Weir was warm and color-coordinated in his arms, and if they met the Baron once more, well. When it happened they'd be ready.
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Flawless style and execution.
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Lambiel/Weir = OTP
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I GIVE THIS A 6.0 AND AN INTERNET.
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"The sunset's that way," she said, pointing.
but the Princess Weir was warm and color-coordinated in his arms
Over here, dying.
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A+!
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AAAAAAAA
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