(no subject)

[maderr]

WTF is with dulcet? Dulcet sobs, dulcet wings.

Your challenge today is to use the word 'dulcet' in a drabble that does not make me want to punch you in the face, or laugh hysterically during what should be a hot scene. Or, better still, don't use dulcet at all.

Comments

[adela-nightmoon.livejournal.com]

'No matter how much she sang, her voice was not, and never would be, described as dulcet. That was reserved for bodice-rippers and mary-sues, of which she was neither'.
I love commas

... and I still want to punch myself in the face. It's a seriously misused word. It's never good. Even when used in the negative as shown.

XD

[thornsilver]

Amen.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Hee hee. That worked ^__^

[acesha.livejournal.com]

Dulcet Cuisine. Create the finest, most flavorful epicurean products available using only 100% natural ingredients while being kind to the Earth. The result is Dulcet's unparalleled line of dressings, sauces, marinades, mustards, cooking spices and rubs that bring the excitement of international gourmet flavors to home cooking.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

If I ever start a food type company, it will be called Dulcet Cuisine.

[mailechan.livejournal.com]

Dulcet sobs. Sounds rather sadistic, if you ask me. Dulcet wings? Maybe they flap prettily?

* * * * *

Emery sat at his writing desk, frowning at the papers before him. His fool of a brother had once again botched the count of horses that had been sent to the Citadel, and sorting and filling out the last minute paperwork had not been in his plans for the afternoon. And stabling for the extra five steeds would be a strain on his finances if he had to handle them for long. He already had his hands full with the horses coming from the eastern lands, and preparing for the fall riding competitions filled most of his day.

At least Dolfin had sent him some parade horses. Keeping the work horses for the border was just about the only smart thing the fool had done; although Emery suspected that his wife had something to do with that. Perhaps he could interest the castle in taking them. Or at least a few of the court members who were more interested in bloodlines and looks than spirit and brains.

A knock at his study door drew his attention. He looked around as Zan opened it, a polite bow signaling to Emery that there was a guest.

"M'lady Jania, My Lord."

Zan stepped back, allowing the lady to enter. Unlike Emery, Jania was simply dressed, her pale rose skirts lacking the trendy ruffles so popular now, and her dark hair pulled almost severely back into a knot near the top of her head. She bore her ever-present lute on her shoulder, securely held in its velvet case.

Emery smiled, standing and walking around the table to greet her. "Dear Jania. I had not realized you were back in the area."

The sharp angles of Jania's thin face softened as she accepted a kiss on each cheek from Emery. "I came with the horses," she said simply. "I thought I would give my greetings before retiring to my quarters."

"I am honored." Emery swept her a deep bow. "In truth, I am grateful to you for the distraction. Figuring out the latest mess my brother has sent me had me in a full panic."

"It is hard to imagine, let alone see for myself, Lord Bluehill in a panic." Jania rolled her shoulders, and the lute case fell into her hand. "Shall I play for you while you work?"

Emery smiled wryly, accepting the hint. "Are you taking lessons from my Zan on how to keep me at my duties?"

Jania bent her head to tuning her lute, hiding a tiny smile. "Your man is an admirable man."

Emery chuckled and went back around his desk, seating himself as Jania started an old, simple melody. "I shall be sure to tell him you said so," he said, simply to see her thin cheeks color, well-aware of her childhood crush on Zan.

He closed his eyes for a moment, listening as Jania gave voice to her tune. Jania would never truly make it here in the capital, where professional minstrels with true skill could be found at every tavern, in every great house. Her voice was not the piping, bird-like soprano that was so popular, but a smooth, dulcet alto made for soothing troubled children and calming rowdy border taverns. It reminded him of their home on the southwestern borders, where all the children from the House would sit under the trees by the water, boys playing knights and dragons, girls with the tending of dolls and the young babes, keeping both from falling into the stream.

It wasn't until a pause in the song that Emery opened his eyes to see Jania giving him the Look that the women in her family did so well.

"Oh, very well." With a sigh, he picked up his papers again, listening as she picked up the tune right where she left off.

[pc1739.livejournal.com]

You.

Are a genius.

I nearly missed it and I was looking for it.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

That was totally perfect.

[animeartistjo.livejournal.com]

Omigoodness! What is with this Look? Please tell me there'll be more?

I like Lady Jania. Will she be featured more? If I can get more of her character/physical description, I might draw her. <3

[pc1739.livejournal.com]

Let's see...

Penelope's delightful delicate dulcet tones were enough to brighten even the most dreadfully drab dreary day.

Yep, you're absolutely right.

[evilgeniuskoji.livejournal.com]

I pulled this directly from an online dictionary and it made me lulz.

dulcet [dull-sit]
Adjective
(of a sound) soothing or pleasant: she smiled and, in dulcet tones, told me I would be next

Way to make her sound like a freaky cliche criminal executionor.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

freaky cliche executioner ftw.

[rainbowfantasie.livejournal.com]

Ty was torn between laughing and chucking something at The Loser. The Loser had apparently taken Ty's gibes about his intelligence and vocabulary to heart, because today The Loser sounded like he'd been reading a dictionary. A very bad dictionary. Probably while drunk. And high. Very high.

"Your dulcet silhouette gives rise to the most profound feelings of schadenfreude within my trembling bosom."

"...um. Right, I think I'm going to have to cut you off now. You've clearly had far too much to drink."

[maderr.livejournal.com]

*gigglefit*

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

"My plan is flawless." The certainty on Jack's face is unwavering, and Kale does not know whether to laugh or throw something at him. " I'll pass him a note, and it will say 'I like you. Do you like me? Please circle. Y/N' and he will circle 'yes', and fall madly in love with me."

Jack must have finally registered the disbelief on Kale's face and looks Greatly Affronted.

"No poetry? No letter of love comparing his hair to the midnight wing of the raven, and his eternally sweet, dulcet voice to choirs of angels?" Kale manages to choke out. The look on on Jacks face eventually gives way to worry, and there is the dull slapping sound of Kale's palm against his forehead.

"Do you think I should?" Jack wrings his hands. "What if it's not enough? God, I'm such an idiot. Should I get flowers too?" He starts babbling, and Kale wonders how this idiot made it this far.

Oh right. Jack has him.

So he captures his hands and releases them slowly till they fall to Jack's sides.

"There's a better way," he says, and his voice is breathy and rough and Not Dulcet At All. "I'll show you." And he drops to his knees.

[aggybird.livejournal.com]

To pray, right? Kale drops to his knees to pray?

[marbleglove.livejournal.com]

"Cinders!" The shriek could be heard from across the house. Ella knew this because she had, in fact, heard it from across the house. She almost thought she could do the job of lady's maid quite well if only there weren't three of them: two stepsisters and a stepmother as well.

"Cinders! Where are you?"

After taking a moment to calm her breath after sprinting across the house, Ella inquired softly, "Did I hear your dulcet tones calling my name?"

It should have gotten her a well-earned slap but Esmeralda seemed to hold out some hope that Ella was being sincere.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Ahahahahaha. I so would do that, and snigger when they missed the sarcasm. Rockstar.

AFTER A WHILE IT DOESN'T EVEN SOUND LIKE A REAL WORD ANYMORE

[aggybird.livejournal.com]

Dulcet sighed and tightened the laces on his thigh-high leather boots. He had to be on stage in five minutes, and he really wasn't looking forward to the show tonight: for the finale, Jade and Candy were supposed to cover his nipples in body chocolate and let some lucky customer lick it off. This was why he hated Fridays. Fridays meant nipple-licking, and that always made him feel like he needed to take twelve showers when he got home.

Dulcet rubbed a hand over his face. He never thought he'd live to see the day that nipple-licking would be unwelcome, but last week had been especially gross. Some pot-bellied, drunk hairy old man had had the dubious honor of licking Dulcet's nipples clean; unfortunately, the fat fuck had copped a feel while he did it, and no one had noticed because his huge paunch was in the way. Dulcet had been forced to sit still while the man fondled him under the stupid short skirt of his costume. He'd been hard when the guy stopped and totally disgusted with himself.

Sometimes he wondered why he did this shit. And then he remembered stuff like, oh yeah, rent and food, and, probably most importantly, the fucking tattoo on his neck reminding everyone what he was. It sucked being a Mod and trying to stay under the radar.

He stood and popped his back, checking himself out in the mirror. His short, honey-colored hair was artfully spiked and the glitter on his cheekbones gave his features a little sparkle that the stage lights would pick up. He leaned closer to the mirror and pulled out his mascara wand, giving his lashes a few more strokes to plump them up. It was one thing to have glossy, cocksucking lips like his (or so he'd been told) but if he played up his girly lashes and whiskey-brown eyes, he might meet his rent goal in a few nights. Maybe he could take a couple days off for once. He pursed his lips and pouted into the mirror experimentally, then snorted at how stupid he looked.

"Dulcet!" barked the club manager in harsh tones, interrupting him. "Get your perky ass to my office!"

Dulcet swiveled around. "What?" he said.

Gerlaff, the club manager, came into view. His habitual cigar was clamped tightly between his sausagey lips. His face was flushed and sweaty, and he was scowling hard. "Ya heard me. My office. Now," he snarled and stomped off.

Dulcet blinked, feeling torn. He was supposed to be onstage - tonight's performance was a big money-earner. He could already hear the crowd begin grumbling. But Jade and Candy were experienced enough to put on a two-guy show in a pinch. He sighed again and rolled his well-oiled shoulders to relax himself, making his way to Gerlaff's office. He might miss work tonight, but if he wanted to work at all it was best to keep Gerlaff happy.

He bit his lips in nervousness as he thought about the reason Gerlaff could have for calling him in. He'd been good this month. He'd done all his shows, hadn't punched any clients for touching him without paying, and he'd sucked Gerlaff's cock twice. (Okay, so he hadn't swallowed, but fuck that. He'd drink drain cleaner first.) He knew it was risky for Gerlaff to employ a Mod, but it wasn't like the club was on the up-and-up anyway.

Dulcet didn't bother to knock, just pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Ah, Seth. Good to see you again."

"Oh, no," Dulcet said as he took a step back, suddenly feeling trapped. "Oh, hell, no."

Re: AFTER A WHILE IT DOESN'T EVEN SOUND LIKE A REAL WORD ANYMORE

[aggybird.livejournal.com]

"It seems you're happy to see me, too," Gavin said with cool amusement. He was sprawled elegantly in Gerlaff's chair, his feet propped on the desk. Gerlaff was standing in the corner, puffing heartily on his cigar, looking somewhere between pissed off and terrified. Dulcet knew the feeling: that was how most people reacted around agents.

"What do you want?" Dulcet said. "Dammit, how did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy," Gavin said idly. "I'll give you that. You've been quite difficult to bring to heel. Of course, you're a valuable asset. Did you really think no one would come looking?"

"Didn't think they'd send you."

"Yes," Gavin agreed. "I was rather surprised as well. But of course, I'm probably the only one good enough to track you."

"Travid's good enough," Dulcet said bitterly.

Gavin's eyes narrowed. "Travid is no longer with the agency. He didn't know how to respect company property."

Dulcet couldn't help his flinch. "He's gone?"

"Permanently," Gavin agreed with a cold, flickering little smile.

"I'm not going back with you," Dulcet said, straightening his shoulders. "I don't care what you do. You'll have to kill me."

"Really?" Gavin asked. "So this is what you want to do with your life? Whore around in Slum 5, barely making ends meet, going back to your ridiculous roach-infested apartment on Galliers Street?"

Dulcet felt frozen. "You know where I live?"

"Beside the point." Gavin waved his hand. "You're better than this."

Dulcet clenched his jaw and his fists at precisely the same time. "Oh yeah? Well, I've got a nice little decoration on my neck that pretty much guarantees I'll never get any legitimate work, so fuck you. I'm doing what I have to."

"You wouldn't have to do any of it if you'd come back like a good boy."

"No way," Dulcet growled.

Gavin sighed and let his feet fall to the floor with a bang. He stood, slowly unfolding to his full height. He was as tall and broad-shouldered as ever. Beneath his midnight-colored suit, Dulcet could see the bulge of his weapon. His blue-black hair gleamed, longer than regulation cut. But Gavin could get away with things like that.

"I have my orders," Gavin said.

"Fuck your orders," Dulcet said. "I'm free now and I'm never going back."

Gavin's lips twisted. "You stay here, and then what? This greasy imbecile," he indicated Gerlaff, who stilled under the attention, with an unimpressed wave of his hand, "is going to use your body and exploit you. Do you really want his disgusting flesh in your mouth again?" He moved closer. "In your body at all?"

"Fuck you," Dulcet said, shaking with rage and fear. "Better than having you guys in my head mind-raping me."

Gavin paused. He leaned his hip against the desk and crossed his arms. The suit jacket's sleeves pulled tight across his well-muscled arms. "What happened was regrettable. As I said, Agent Travid is no longer with us."

"Good for you guys," Dulcet said. "I'm not going back so I can find out what Travid 2.0 is like."

Gavin's lips quirked again. He shifted and reached into his pocket, and Dulcet immediately tensed, feeling invisible hackles raise along his back. "What're you..." he trailed off when he saw what Gavin had pulled out.

Gavin dangled the leash and collar from his hand. "You don't get Travid 2.0," he said. "You get me."

[broken-moons.livejournal.com]

Honestly? I had to look up 'dulcet' because I never use it, and don't come across it that often.

That said:

Shad gasped and pushed Iskander away, which was more difficult than it should be. Why...? Did they really mean...? He brought his hand to his mouth, his lips moist and tingling, and up until now they had only done that after kissing Isidor.

'Do you see?' Isidor said, and Shad jerked his head up, looking past Iskander to where Isidor was standing - with Niall still hovering close by. Shad knew that neither Isidor or Iskander could see Niall's shuttered expression, the dull set of his eyes, but Shad could, and he could see the pain through that careful facade.

And this was very, very wrong.

'No,'he said. 'I don't think I do. Not when you,' he glared at Iskander, 'can kiss me like that with Niall standing right there and not even have the decency to feel guilty about it.'

There was guilt now, though, but mostly surprise, and that in turn surprised him into shutting up. They didn't know? He almost laughed, because how could they not see what was so plain, so clear? Someone ought to knock some sense into them, and he rather suspected it was going to have to be him. Because Niall was still just standing there, staring, a flush to his pale cheeks. There was hope in his eyes, now, but the twins' hesitation was quickly killing it.

'If one of you doesn't kiss him right now,' he said, 'I will. Because someone should.' He didn't even know why he said it, and his own cheeks started to burn. But apparently it was the right thing to say, because Niall flushed even deeper, and Iskander's eyes exploded with heat.

'Yes,' Isidor said, breathless, turned, and in two steps reached Niall.

Oh. Oh.

[aggybird.livejournal.com]

"Dull set"? Really?

I love you just a little bit. In a totally creepy way.

[alice_montrose]

"Your dulcet voice enchants the souls of even the cruellest of men, fair maiden... Ouch! Hey, why are you throwing furniture at me!"

The remaining table cracked against the wall. "Enough with the maiden already!" the princess shouted out... in the decidedly unmaidenly voice. "My name is Julian, not Julianna. Now get out of my room, before my dulcet voice decides to summon the guards!"

[broken-moons.livejournal.com]

*laughs* Good one!

[cobecat.livejournal.com]

Tristan had been in this waiting room for three hours. Three hours, tying to fill out this ridiculous placement test. Three hours with Sparkle the Dancer on one side and some wanna-be Enchantress on the other side, both of them trying to either climb into his lap or sneak a peek at his answers or both.

He wanted to cry. But that would absolutely ruin his voice, and it was all he had going for him; gods knew his carefully-maintained appearance was no more after three hours in this purgatory!

His eyes fell resignedly back to the test, and he turned the page listlessly, only to suppress a shout of joy. There, at the bottom, after a mere 10 more questions, were the words he had been longing so to see:

STOP. This is the end of the Orpheus School of Music Entrance Exam. If you finish before time is called you may check your work, but do not turn back to any of the previous sections. Thank you for completing this exam promptly, neatly, and with all your own work.

Even as he almost cried with relief, Tristan resisted the urge to snort with laughter: as if any musician used their own work. But now, now there were only ten questions left, and then he was freeee!

With a deep breath, Tristan looked back up to the first question.

These questions will help us place you in the career track that's right for you and your talents! Please answer as completely as possible, because this information will go straight to your academic adviser!

Question 1: What is your talent/skill?

...er. A little broad, wasn't it? Tristan was sort of tempted to let them know that he had a lot of skills, such as that thing he could do with his tongue...but the Enchantress' eyes slid over to his paper again and the cold chill of fear down his spine decided him against being a smart-ass for once. Instead, he scribbled 'Voice: attraction, compulsion and manipulation' and moved on.

Question 2: Did you acquire this skill through
a) genetics/heritage
b) quest or other test of merit (please explain ____)
c) tragic past (please explain _____)
d) curse, blessing or supernatural intervention (please explain ____)
e) other (please explain _____)

Easy: a. Tristan moved on.

Question 3: Please choose three or more adjectives that describe your musical talent.

The first one on the list was 'dulcet'. Tristan didn't even bother to read any further: he just put his head down and cried.

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Beautiful. Just beautiful. Oh, man, I do not miss taking stupid tests like that, ahahahahaha.

[evilgeniuskoji.livejournal.com]

Ha, I did't expect to give it a go either.

The strumpet hung from the "window" of the makeshift tower, garbed in a dress of cheap crimson silk in a cut that might have passed for a princess' if not for the obscenely low bodice that were ballooning her assets for the jeering crowd below.

"Ah, woe is me," she cried in dramatic, ringing tones. "Imprisoned ere my blossom of youth bloomed, doomed to death! Oh, woe, woe, woe! Pray, good sirs, is there no one fit to my rescue? No one at all? Ah, for my life to waste away in this swine's cellar!"

Her high, whiny voice took on a breathless air as she held a handkerchief to her head, swooning against the window sill with careful exaggeration that displayed her comely form even more obviously. The jeering got louder.

"Sweet, lord, check out the peaches on that one!" exclaimed one of the newcomers loudly. "Sorbin, c'mere, you'er missing out!"

The "actress" fluttered her ridiculously long lashes at him, but did not respond otherwise. "For my rescuer to come, speed on quickly! My gratitude shall be boundless--"

"Your gratitude up for several rounds, sweetheart?" called one of the men. "We kin get you down and on your back 'fore you kin say 'aye'."

Her long fingers danced over her white chest as if in thought, but of course it was only to draw more attention to her bosom. "If I could only get down ere the sun rises--"

"Oh, for god's sake," the hoarse, slurred words of the town drunk cut through her dulcet tones. A very dirty, ragged, and filthy young man heaved himself out from below the stage where he'd clearly been sleeping. His eyes were heavy with bags as he climbed up the "tower" and yanked the girl down. "Shut up for a mo' and letta fella sleep, will ya?"

"Heyla, we were enjoying the show!" protested a balding, middle-aged man. "I paid a silver piece for this!"

"You was cheated," the drunk grumbled. "Here, have a go with the broad and git your money's worth." He shoved the masquerading whore into the crowd, where she was promptly grabbed at by a hundred hands.

Her dulcet screams were much more pleasant to listen to.

[animeartistjo.livejournal.com]

I shall try:

"Tra-la-la-la-la-la~~~!"

Evans fingers tightened around his pencil.

"La-la-la-la-la~~~!"

SNAP!

The scholar threw himself out of his chair and stormed through the library to the balcony near the Histories--Romance shelves. "Elsa Medley Fridi Jans! If you do not stop that infernal noise this instant, I will tell Matron about your escapades after hours!" Shoving his glasses back up his nose, the pale man glared fiercely at his sister. "In case you haven't noticed, this is a LIBRARY, not a conservatory. Kindly shut. Up."

The equally pale girl perched on the balcony's rail turned watery blue eyes at Evans, "But, Brother! Herman says my voice is the most dulcet sound he has ever heard and he would give all he has and more to hear me sing every minute of the day."

Evans pinched the bridge of his nose, recognizing a losing battle. Sun save him from lovesick taxidermists with no talent for poetry, or ear for music.

And now for something different ala Avalon

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

He speaks not in tones soft and hushed, dulcet and flowing like cool water over stones. There is not lilt, no animation, no words that need to be deciphered, secrets and lies.

He speaks like this; harsh breaths against his ear, incomprehensible sentences, words that roll into one another,and a never ending chant of 'Iloveyou'.

He is the height of imperfection. Too tall, too tanned, too muscular, to be a noble. Too bold, too uneducated. He knows only of life and its harshness and the fallacies that come from being human.

And that will never be good enough.

But his tongue is wicked, and his mouth sweet and soft for all the rough words they sound; growls and the sharpness of the language of the commoners. And it is these things, his lack of breeding, his disregard for the pale frivolities that guarantee lesser men into the listless embrace of high society that make him so repungant to them. It is just as well, you think, and take that kiss he offers without words, just the softening of his mouth.

You have no intention of sharing.

Re: And now for something different ala Avalon

[kiyoshi-chan.livejournal.com]

Whoa, hot. :O

[droaerion.livejournal.com]

Sighing, Yuen painted the finishing touches on the glimmering mask that matched the beautiful and eye catching gossamer wings hanging from the ceiling. As the door tinged, he sent a soft smile towards it, eyes lighting on the child, brown hair pulled into pig ties below the ears.

“Good morning.” He said, purposefully keeping his voice to the perfect tone between soothing to ones ears, and that of a cheerful morning bird, a perfect accompaniment to the sweet melody playing from his speakers. Looking passed the child, his eyes landed on the choppy red hair belonging to the parent kneeling before the child, whispering a gentle encouragement. To the side, a young woman, the mother, pointed out the wings to the child.

Brown eyes lit up, and Yuen locked eyes with a cheerful, urging smile that filled the child with courage, reaching up to touch it. Five minutes later the family was walking away, and Yuen put the just finished mask on the wall to make another pair of wings for, before shaking his head. He wondered if the mother was aware that the redhead, the father, shared the same thought that Yuen did – that those pink and blue gauzy wings, made of fine cobweb felt and glossy taffeta would look atrocious with their child’s red dress.

Hahaha, late, but I was looking at fabric and remembered your challenge. See the many points where the word of evil could be used and was avoided? Totally the difference between giving a word that's definition describes something, and words that paint a picture for a definition.