#xballroom

[kinglyboo]

3 have found the boo king

everybodycheaters | bowserworlduniverse | xballroom

▎♚ ---- 

                 ❝Has anyone ever told you that you'd look                      absolutely fantastic as a painting?                      Bwahahaha!❞

[scalyprinceling]

Chilling Encounter; A Night in the Mansion! || closed with xballroom

                                                Breathe, breathe...

                Junior's legs were frozen-- his heart stilted. Everything about this situation was absolutely bone-chilling. Whether it was the cantankerous calls of the storm outside of the cackles of the floorboards beneath him, he couldn't help but shudder in absolute fear. His haughty, hot-blooded nature he received from his father was smothered here-- just like any heat. All that remained was the blistering, frigid cold that was stapled to the mansion as if said manor was nothing short of a stack of papers. Could one truly even call this a residency? This was more or less just a hellish, icy Hell with quote the magnificent decor.    

              "Y-ya hear me!? I don't want ANY funny business...! Do you all not know who I am!? I'm--"

                                BOOOOOOOOOM. Crackle, crackle, crackle...

                The storm outside completely drowned him-- submerging him in nothing but absolute stone. All of his colorization had been stripped from his features, a thick, pasty white overtaking him while his pupils practically yearned to melt from their sockets. Every time he tried to invoke any ounce of intimidation or threat, something; whether it be the multiple poltergeists, storms, or his own fear, practically halted him at every interval. In a way of sustaining his balance, Junior's hands smooched onto the nearest desk, his sharp and glistening claws clenching onto the mahogany furniture without any hesitation.

                                            Thump, thump, thump...

               His heart was racing-- his mind was corroding. His sweat, oh how it shined, trickling down his forehead before making a platter among the floor below him. Everything about this place wanted him gone. There were no welcomes, no open-arms. Each minute only cemented the fact that he should remove himself from the premise, ignore the rumors that brought him here, and return back to his father's lap where he can cry, whine, and beg about every shortcoming that came his way. That's where he belonged; underneath his father's thumb, jogging around and boasting about how his 'wonderful' father was a tyrant.

                                      Not stuck in this nightmare.

              However, was the maiden known as luck finally on his side? Junior faintly heard the sounds of... something. Music, was it? The notes were classical, or at least from a time period he wasn't familiar with. Something about the music only made this place much more ominious than it was. Although it would've touched his heart and soothed him in any other setting, all it did here was contrast so darkly with how this place appeared as. A place where shadows and the un-dead ran rampant, doors gave their own haunting tune; and it even came with its own music.

            Silent and muffled, Junior began to creep down the hallway, his feet skidding across the velvet carpet below him as his body went at a robotic pace. Each muscle was stiff-- each crevice was packed with gunk of absolute distaste. However, all if it had been segregated from him, even if it was for but a moment. What could possibly have changed his demeanor with such a quick and powerful stride? How could his stiffness just disipate as if it was never snuggled onto him to begin with?

           It was quite simple, really. In an attempt to be brave, Junior's body bashed against the door, soon throwing it open and leaving his beady-eyes to the sight of whatever could happen in such a bin of terrors and chills.

[caricature-potentate]

Mansion Dancin' || closed RP with xballroom

[★] ═ Trips outside of Drealand weren't too uncommon for the bumptious kind of talcum smell. In fact, it just always seemed to happen for him. One day, he'd be in the luxuries of his castle, fragrances drenching through his castle l ike sneaky rats in the cupboard. He'd have one finger held high, a mockery to aristocrats, chalice in hand and sips splurring into his beak as he dislodged wisecracks from the corners of said beak. Sometimes, the audacious oaf of the whimsical land would reside upon his throne,  barking orders left and right to the faithful Waddle Dees and Doos that heeded each of his commands. Days in Dreamland were breezes that ushered boy, as long as Kirby was absent from his vision and did something that didn't include dragging the uncouth potentate into the affairs. 

         However, today was a day that he was outside of his own domain.     "--What is this dumb, a junkyard!? There ain't nothing but cobwebs and creepy-crawlies!"          It appeared as though King Dedede wasn't having the most jolly of times within this peculiar mansion, his peanut sized brain being littered with abnormalities he couldn't comprehend. Throughout his expedition in the petrifying manor of terror, Dedede could have sworn he heard raspy laughs lace the atmosphere and coo into his utensils of hearing. The penguin also pledged on his life that things were moving without any explanations, logical reasoning being a factor that simply was invited to this 'party.' Despite his internal belief that something was amiss with this residential home, Dedede dismissed the fact that ANY and all supernatural activities were occuring around him. Ever since his previous possessions in his life, the king of expressive physique wanted absolutely nothing to do with anything revolving around what couldn't be explained.         Dedede tiptoed through the corridors of the mansion, eyes standing guard and posture wrinkling in fear. His face was contorted with slideshows of discomfort, each turn of his body procuring another look that was more expressive than the last. Dedede's hulking body could hardly even ignite, for he forced himself to take five second breaks in order to protect himself. His palms may have caressed the doorknobs with intentions to push them forward and reveal what was on the other-side, but he always halted said sequence before he could even riddle it open.          However, through enough luck and chances, Dedede found himself in an immensely empty room. This space was known as the ballroom, where dances could be held and prances of delight could be indulged upon. Any normal ballroom would have been a succulent, sun-drenched delicacy that anyone who adored the admiration of dance could waltz upon. It was traditionally a room where one could bereave themselves of tribulations, confining them into a locked box of memories and leaving the key in an abyss for days to come. Ginger, sweet, peppered... a cauldron of mixtures that just bellowed 'welcome to our abode.'        But then, this house wasn't necessarily normal, now was it?        The first thing that Dedede noticed was that this room was completely and utterly dark. It was smothered in the clutches of darkness, seduced into a trance of black and left to reside in without any signs of light. This was accompanied by the vast void in which was this room, for hardly anything was placed upon it. It would not have mattered if it the room was coated in a canvas of primary colors, draped in coats of red, denim of blue, and lemons of yellow. However, this was hardly the case, for it was smeared in nothing but the prints of dull, cooled colors that strummed the atmosphere with intense suspense.        Sweat practically promenading down his skull as if this was the triathlon, the king of crimson robes and azure fur began to trample over the hardwood floor beneath his feet. Upon welcoming himself onto the graces of a checker-patterned carpet, the complains of the king were thundered to his own lonesome... or so he thought. 

      "Why in the heck would you have a ballroom with no dancers in it!? What, did the guys who make this place not know how a ballroom should be run!?" Once said complaints of droll were draped to the curtains of closings, a sly, clean smirk platered his beak while he began to rub his palms together. "I might as well just let this place be mine and mine alone! Ain't nobody here to tell me not to, so who cares if this place gets a dash of awesomeness upon it!? I'll name this place Dedede Manor! Just gotta smash whatever I don't like and replace it with portraits of ME!"       If only the idiotic king knew about the history of this marvel. Maybe then he wouldn't be uttering such bold claims in the home of the deceased and parted.