WARNINGS : Bad writing, pvssy eating, possessive thoughts, mentions of death, angst, yearning, lazy ending
a/n: I wrote this a while back when I had a fixation on the whole (jester x princess) trope and I thought I should post it. It’s not the best , probably some writing errors. Hope it’s not cringe and enjoy!
The bells on his cap will not cease their maddening chime.
Every step, every turn, every grotesque bow that sends that sound echoing through the grand hall, a taunt that gnaws beneath the ravenous roar of laughter. The king nearly chokes on his wine from laughing so hard. Nobles pound their jeweled hands against the banquet tables. Someone hurls a grape at him.
He caught it between his teeth, holding it up triumphantly for all to see. More laughter erupted from the crowd.
Good, For that it why he’s here.
The applause thundered in his ears as he gave an exaggerated, foolish bow.
He grins so hard his cheeks ache and throws himself into another foolish spin, arms wide, bells singing mockingly with every movement. The marble floor blurs beneath him in gold and crimson streaks.
Even so, his eyes find you anyways.
They always do.
You were sat beside the throne, ever so beautiful in silk the color of moonlight. Your posture remained straight, hands folded neatly, beauty calm and — damn these bells—Striking enough to make men want to write poetry. Vale could never seem to look away from you; no matter how much the bells rang in his ears, you drew his gaze every time.
and yet you look unbearably bored.. or maybe distant?
He wonders, not for the first time, if you hate these feasts as much as he does. The thought nearly makes him break into a true smile. He leapt onto the banquet table to the delight of the nobles and the king, snatching a grape from a lords plate with exaggerated stealth before tossing it into the air. Cheers erupted. Someone demanded a song, another spoke degrading words of me.
The fool, Vael, answered with another bow. Another joke. Another performance. But his eyes kept finding you, and yours never found his. It wouldn’t be the first time Vael and you met secretly in servant corridors or out in the gardens late in the evening. As he danced around, he could only think of seeing you alone as his reward for this torment.
Then the king rose from his throne. Slowly, the hall quieted. “A toast,” the king declared, lifting his goblet high. “To the prosperity of our kingdom, and to the union between my daughter and her soon to be husband.”
The paint on his face suddenly felt heavy, the jingling of his cap slowed, and his gaze returned to you once again.
This time, finally, your eyes met his. ‘You didn’t know, did you? You never asked for this. You didn’t choose him right?’
…
He couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer once it turned midnight and he was drunk. Could tell one things from the next. One minute he was still grinning through painted lips while nobles laughed into their winde, and the next, he was stalking through the palace corridors with bells snarling softly at every furious step.
you are promised to another man.
He stumbled through the hallway nearly colliding with a servant. She quickly lowered her gaze and hurried away. Smart. Even fools like him looked dangerous when they stopped smiling, and oh, a fool he was for believing you, the princess, would be his lover. His footsteps came to a stop once he saw you through the open doors of your royal chambers. Moonlight poured through the tall arched windows behind you. Silver against silk and jewels. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You looked just as breathless as he felt.
”Vael—“
“Did you know?” His words came out harsher than he intended, your expression faltered, and that was answer enough. “Vael, you know it is only you I’d truly want.”
‘Vael looked away immediately, jaw tightening as the bells near his collar gave the faintest tremble. And it ached. “I never chose this! If it were up to me, I’d choose you!”
“You mustn’t say those things..”
you give a slight look of confusion. “Why?”
‘Because you do not belong to me. Because hearing you say such things makes me forget my place. Because I have loved you so long, it has become something rotten inside me.’
None of these words leave his mouth though. “You are cruel tonight.” He said instead. The large doors groaned shut behind him as he stepped further into the room. If he could no longer be with you, he would make the most of tonight. Your brows pull together slightly.
“Cruel?” You repeated softly.
”you stand here looking at me as though I’m a man instead of a performance. I should leave,” Vael admitted quietly. “But I cannot. I love you too much.”
Somewhere deep inside, you ached as you stepped closer. “I have only tonight to show you how much love I’ve been harbouring for you.” She said to him. His hand comes up to cup your cheek gently. “May I?”
When you nod, his other hand rests at your waist, while he presses his lips to yours in a deep and hungry kiss. This is wrong, and he could be beheaded, but this did not stop him from pressing against you and and backing you up to the bed; the bells against his neck jingled a bit. He was almost sure you could feel the need through his foolish clothes and through your dress. His head spiraled as he heard you release a blessed sound from your lips into the kiss.
You gasped as he suddenly pushed you back on the bed. Your propped yourself up against your elbows to see what he was doing. His hands pushed up the hem of your dress, allowing it to pool at your waist. Cold hands pressed against the inside of you thighs, gently spreading them. Sinking down to his knees, he pulled down your chemise after gaining your approval. His legs shuddered at the sight.
“Dear god, did you know you look so beautiful down here?” He murmured into you, sending vibrations through your glistening clit. Without hesitation, he began kissing and licking up and down your wet slit. His eyes watched you for approval, your whining and incoherencies loudened, and instinctively, he pinched your thigh. “You mustn’t be too loud. I’m already trying to keep these bells silent.”
“How could I not? Where have you learned this?” You urged breathlessly. Your voice.. almost sounded distant like a dream.
Returning to your weeping folds he placed hot open mouthed kisses before sucking gently. The doors to you chambers suddenly slowly creaked open. Almost immediately, he pushed back from you, his back his the wall. His eyes looked up to yours, mouth still slick with your wetness. You, still reeling from the ecstasy, quickly sat up trying to straighten yourself up. Your father had walked in to check on you.
Certainly, Vael was a fool.
The king stepped in with a lantern. His eyes darted between you and Vael. He shakingly stood up.
“Your highness, it’s not what it looks—“
“Fool, ..what have you done..?” The kings voice sounded fearful. Vael look at him confused when he felt something hard in his hand. He look down to see a bloodied knife.
Bewildered he dropped it only to look up and see the lifeless body of you.
I hope you didn’t cringe toooo much. This is just some creative writing I did last year. I’m trying to get back into the flow of things.
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this MIGHT be my first time writing a tk fic (it is) so please don't bully me gangalang ,,, criticism is accepted just be nice to me [cry] also was writen on laptop so if the formats weird i apologize oops ...
lee!daisuke, ler!curly (NON SHIP !!!!!)
tw / cw : tks, starts off a wee bit sad, mention of jeopardy (j*mmy)
"Get it through your goddamn skull! That vent is strictly off limits! Fully fuckin' collapsed inside!"
It was safe to say that Swansea was pissed. Daisuke, just released from the emergency foam he'd accidentally triggered, was awkwardly shuffling in place as he received yet another earful from his mentor. He messed up, sure, but really? His legs hurt already from being trapped not too long ago, he didn't want his head to follow suit.
"You looking to get impaled, electrocuted, and cooked?!" Swansea's usual scowl was far more intense than usual; it was obvious to Curly, at least. As captain, he knew he'd have to intervene soon. Before he could, however, Daisuke spoke out:
"Yeah, but like, you can't fit in there to fix it, right? So I can totally handle it."
An uncomfortable silence filled the utility room. the three men stood in as the younger's words marinated. Swansea's eye twitched, clearly agitated. Curly really needed to say something - if he doesn't, who knows what Swansea would-
"Captain."
He stiffened slightly, worried what the older man was planning. Swansea extended his hand out to the captain, demanding the axe. Curly saw Daisuke twiddling his fingers from the corner of his eye. Both their heads moved in unison with Swansea's arm. "Swansea," Curly started, handing the mechanic the axe, "this could've damaged the pods. You can't let something like this happen again."
"Yeah, yeah...I got it." Swansea took the axe and swung it to rest on his shoulder. "Loud and clear." Slightly less tense than before, Curly placed his hand on his hip. "Keep the axe until you've cleaned this all up, yeah?" Swansea nodded with a huff, shifting his attention to his intern. Who was still fidgeting his hands. He looked up shyly as he spoke: "It's ok to be big, boss! "My gramps was super huge! And he lived until, like, 60!"
Oh shit.
Curly nervously looked to Swansea, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Daisuke, unaware of the weight of his words, smiled softly. Curly's attention shifted when he noticed Jimmy standing by the utility room door. He saw it as a reason to excuse himself from the heavy tension between the two men before him. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Curly swiftly made his way towards his co-pilot. Daisuke, finally noticing Swansea's mood, silently cursed at his captain for abandoning him. And as soon as he did...
Swansea went off. Yelling all sorts of nonsense about safety and protocol that Daisuke didn't care to hear for the thirteenth time that week. Instead, trying to focus his attention on the conversation taking place behind his mentor. Unfortunately, he found it to be quite difficult. Something about being sane, psych evals, Anya - what was that about cartoon horses?
Just as the two men started to walk off, Swansea yelled louder, noticing his intern not listening. This brought a new wave of lecturing, and Daisuke was *not* having it. He didn't even care if Swansea said the winning lottery numbers, he just wanted him to shut up. Much to his dismay, that wouldn't be happening anytime soon...
Curly just sent Jimmy away after receiving a letter from the higherups. He reread its contents again, confirming what it said as if he had somehow misread the whole thing. Pony Express is shutting down? How could this happen? How will he tell the crew? Although instructed to not break the news until later, Curly was unsure if he could do that. Sighing heavily, the captain decided to get some fresh air. Well, not exactly - just whatever was breathable outside the weighty air of the cockpit.
Ready to open the door at the end of the hallway, Curly was stopped by Swansea's presence behind it. He noticed something off immediately; his familiar frown replaced with a more concerned expression. Curly questioned it without a second thought, to which Swansea replied: "It's about Daisuke. After you left, I kind of went off. I...I think I went too hard on him. I've lectured him a bunch of times before, but he seemed more down this time."
"Oh? How so?" Curly asked, putting a hand to his chin. Swansea shifted his weight before continuing: "After I run my mouth to him, he usually puts on this dramatic act and pouts when I dismiss him to go somewhere else. This time seemed different. I don't know how to explain it, but I think I hurt the kid."
Swansea ended his explanation with a deep sigh as he lowered his head; he clearly felt guilty, and Curly understood as much. "Have you tried talking to him?"
"I'm not too sure how thrilled he'd be to see me right now. I don't wanna scare the poor thing any more than I already have. Plus, I don't know where he's at."
Curly nodded before Swansea spoke up again. "Do you think you can talk to him?" The captain thought for a brief moment before reaching out to the worried man, patting his shoulder. "Of course I can. I'll go look for him and cheer him up, promise! You can go rest if you'd like, just make sure the foam in utility gets cleared up later, yeah?"
To this, Swansea relaxed, wearing an uncommon smile. He nodded as he thanked Curly and walked off. The now determined captain headed off with a mission in mind; he was going to get Daisuke to smile, no matter the cost.
If you disregard the sobs, the cargo room was quiet. The vast space left a slight echo on Daisuke's cries. He sat on the stairs, head between his knees and arms around his shins. His mind ran as fast as the ship he resided on. Why was Swansea so much angrier than usual? He was just trying to help; he was his intern after all. Then again, he practically called him fat and kinda sorta maybe implied he would die at 60...
Damn, why would he say that?
At this point, Daisuke's thoughts were racing a million miles a minute. The grip on his pants tightened as he cried. God, he's a screwup. No wonder his parents sent him away on this internship. He was annoying at home, and he's annoying in space. Will he ever learn to keep his mouth shut? He was so lost in his head that he didn't hear the door open behind him, or the footsteps that followed it.
"Daisuke?"
Said boy jumped a foot as he frantically wiped his eyes. He turned to face the source of the voice, trying to put on an act and forced a smile. But that smile shook, and Curly noticed. "Hey, captain! What's up?"
"I should be asking you that. Are you ok?"
Daisuke flinched slightly, his fake smile faltered as his shoulders began to tremble again. "I...I-I just...Swansea..." He didn't get anything else out after that, nothing that was intelligible, at least. He broke down again, turning around and placed his head back on his knees. Curly frowned as he made his way to Daisuke. He sat to his left on the stairs, rubbing the boy's back as he tried to soothe him. He let him cry it out until he was left only sniffling. Only then did he decide to speak out. "C'mon Daisuke, talk to me. Swansea found me earlier and said you were down. What's wrong?"
He let out a small whimper upon hearing his mentor's name. Shakily, he started: "I-I don't know, I should've just listened to him. I just wanted to help! B-but I screwed up...I-I could've gotten myself seriously hurt, o-or killed, or broken the pods! Those are like, s-super important! Even I know that, yet still acted c-carelessly. N-not only that, I totally offended S-Swansea! H-he probably hates m-me, I c-can't believe I said that...I'm a t-total f-failure, I-" He was getting more panicked as he spoke, voice as shaky as ever. Curly cut him off as he stopped rubbing his back and pulled the boy to him by his waist. Daisuke yelped slightly at the sudden change of contact, yet melted into the side hug.
"Kid," Curly started, "do you know why Swansea talked to me?" He felt a slight head shake on his shoulder. "Because he was worried for you, Daisuke. He told me he went too hard on you; that he feels bad he might have hurt you. I've never seen a more guilty face on him. And trust me when I say that means a lot. I've worked with him for I don't even know how long. He didn't mean to - Daisuke?"
His speech was cut when he heard small chortles from the boy in his arm. Curly glanced down, seeing his shoulders tremble once more, differently this time. "Did I...say something funny?" he asked, a confused smile on his face. Daisuke shook his head again, a hand over his mouth. "Nohoho, it's just - your hahand-" Curly's gaze shifted to where his hand resided on the intern's side; it had started subconsciously rubbing him there as it was on Daisuke's back. "What about my hand? Are you hurt here? Oh no, I'm so sor-"
"No! No, it's not that. I'm not hurt."
"Oh? Then what is it?"
Daisuke felt his face heat up. Thank god Curly couldn't see his face. He shifted slightly, unsure how to answer. "I just - it's not - you didn't - uh..." He peeked up to the captain as he trailed off, where he was met with a genuinely concerned face. "I'm afraid I don't follow, you know you can tell me anything, ri-"
"It just tickled is all..." He mumbled.
"Come again?"
With a whine, Daisuke buried his face further into his hand, leaning more onto Curly's shoulder. No matter how many times asked, he didn't say more. Curly, in attempt to get his attention, pinched the boy where his hand still laid; on his waist. What he didn't expect, however, was for Daisuke to chirp at the touch. Now it was Cury's turn to get his mind thinking. Which didn't last long, however, as Daisuke's squeaky voice spoke up:
"IT TICKLED ALRIGHT?!"
If he wasn't blushing before, he sure was now. Curly saw the back of Daisuke's neck turn bright pink. Realization struck him shortly after, where a mischievous grin appeared. To confirm the suspicion, Curly pinched his side again, earning another bird-like sound. Oh, he struck gold.
"Daisuke...are you-"
"Shut up!"
Daisuke's neck was now a deep red, his face buried deep in his palms while his fingers grabbed at his hair. His captain walked in on him crying, then he continued to cry *on* his captain, and now this?! Could this be any more embarrassing?! Well, yes, it could. Curly pinched his side for a fourth time. Daisuke whipped his head towards him only to be met with a grin covering half of the blonde's face. "Oh, Daisuke...that isn't a very nice way to speak to your captain now, is it?"
Fuck. He's cooked.
"W-w-wait, I-I didn't me-EEHEHEAA!"
Daisuke was interrupted by his own squeal as Curly opted for pinching at his waist repeatedly rather than in intervals. He instinctively curled in on himself; arms wrapped around his torso while he brought his knees to his chest. While trying to twist away from the offending hand, Daisuke unintentionally leaned into Curly, who went in with his other hand to pinch at the giggling boy's other side.
He squealed again from the tickly assault suddenly appearing elsewhere. Daisuke started jumping left and right, trying to escape from one hand only to be attacked by the other. Curly switched to poking before long, as this made the younger let out soft snorts as he weakly kicked his legs. The captain chuckled under Daisuke's evergrowing laughter, finding his reactions amusing. "I just cannot believe you told me to shut up. I'm wounded, Daisuke, and your words are the blade. How could you say such a thing?!"
Said boy could only whine in response, "I dihihidn't mehehean toooooo! C'mohohon cahaptahahahain!"
"Oh really? And how can I be sure of that, hm?"
"Plehehehease! I prohohomise! I'm sohohorry, I'm sorryyyyy!"
"Hmmmm...let me think." Curly pondered dramatically *way* longer than needed as he continued to poke at the intern's torso. Daisuke continued to squeak and giggle as he 'spaced out thinking.' Suddenly, the blonde perked up, "Alright, I've thought about it! I'm not stopping~" He then proceeded to move both his hands to Daisuke's hips, massaging the bone tenderly.
The reaction was instant. The brunette shot his arms down, body spasming on impact. Grabbing Curly's wrists, Daisuke cackled loudly, unable to control the volume of his voice. His legs now fully kicking out as he spoke, "AAAAAHAHAHA! SHIHIHIT! GOHOD DAMN IT CUHUHURLY STAHAHAHAP!" To this, he gasped loudly; he would've acted out clutching his pearls had his hands not been occupied. "And just who do you think you are?! Talking to me like this...you're awfully ballsy for someone in your position."
Daisuke could only answer in giggly babbles, unable to get any coherent words out as his hip bones got circles drilled into them. Curly only clicked his tongue in mock annoyance and grabbed Daisuke's left arm with his right, lifting it up. In once swift motion, he left the boy more vulnerable than ever. He gave him a break during this - he didn't want to kill the kid. Taking in big gulps of air, Daisuke had yet to notice the position of his arm. Only when he tried to rub his eyes did he glance up. He knew what was coming.
Panicked, he locked eyes with his captor, smile wide and bright as his face matched his complimentary floral shirt. "C'mohohon captain! Y-you knohow I didn't mean ihit right? Rihight! S-so let's juhuhust forget this ever happehened!" Daisuke tried to reason with him, but Curly was having none of it. On the contrary, he was having too much fun. "Nuh uh, kid. You've gotta learn how to speak to your superiors. Tsk, young ones these days thinking they're all that. Even though you crumble the second I do...*this*."
As he finished, his free hand quickly snaked behind Daisuke, going straight to his ribs. He pinched, squeezed, poked; anything to get the brunette to squeal. And squeal he did; his bubbly laughter echoed in the ample space of the cargo room. He tried to grab Curly's hand with his free one, but the captain kept dodging, scratching a new rib in the process. He chuckled as he felt weak tugging on the arm he held up. "
"Plehehehease, I'm sohorry! I sweahahahar! I-I mehehean it!"
"Oh, are you now? And how can I believe that?"
Daisuke groaned between giggles before he spoke, "I prohohomise! I promihihise I'm sohorry!"
Curly lifted an eyebrow at the intern, his bright smile showing off the gap between his front teeth. The sight brought his own smile to grow in size. "Okay, let's say I believe you then. You're forgiven, bud."
"Thehen why aren't yohohou stohohohoping?!"
He chuckled at the naivety shown before him, shifting so he faced the boy before he answered, "Did you forget why I came here in the first place?" Daisuke whined in response, brain short circuiting as he felt fingers drilling into his torso, letting out a scream at his uppermost rib was attacked. "Oh c'mohohohohOHAHAH - CURLY! Quit ihihit! That tickles!"
Curly shook his head slightly, seeing the intern's blush deepen upon saying the word. "Sorry, Daisuke. Swansea said you were being gloomy earlier. We can't have that now, can we?" Said boy threw his head back as Curly formed a vibrating claw against the space between his highest rib and armpit. He snorted loudly from the sensation, barely able to form coherent words. "OKAHAY, OKAY! I'LL CHEHEHEHER UHUP! PROMISE! I PROHOMIHIHISE!" Daisuke ended his plea with a wheeze, laughter getting more strained. Curly saw this as a sign to wrap things up, slowing his fingers until the tickling came to a full stop. He let go of the boy's hand, where it fell to his side as he curled into himself next to his captain.
Curly once again rubbed the younger's back, hoping he didn't go too far as he giggled between gasps of air. Daisuke held his sides, still feeling the tingly sensation on his body. Once his breathing calmed down a bit, Curly decided to speak up, "Are you alright? I didn't do too much, right?" He received a head shake in return; the redness on the boy's neck showed he was too flustered to speak.
"You really shouldn't be too hard on yourself, you know? Swansea cares for you. He doesn't show it much, but he really does. Sure, he gets mad sometimes, but that's just who he is. Like I said earlier, he's the one who came to me about you; he was worried sick!" Daisuke glanced up at Curly's speech, eyes widened slightly with curiosity. "To tell you the truth," the blonde continued, "his own kids moved out a while ago. I think he misses them; not like he'd ever admit that, though. I have a suspicion that you remind him of them. Gets his dad-gears turning. His fatherly instincts probably kicked in earlier when you set off the foam. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"
Daisuke nodded his head, a tiny nervous smile on his face as he took in the confession. Did Swansea really feel that way? "Do you really think that's true?" Curly's gaze met his, flashing him a proud grin; "I know it's true! Don't tell him I said anything, though. He'd deny it to the moon and back." To this Daisuke breathed a sigh of relief, letting a small chuckle slip. He sat up from his ball-like position to fully face Curly, returning the smile. "Thanks, captain!"
The captain felt his heart slightly melt at the sight of the joyous boy. Wrapping his arm around him for another side hug, rustling his hair with his other hand. "No worries! I'll always be here. As long as you keep that attitude at bay. Don't think I won't put you in check, young man." Curly poked his side as he finished, earning one last squeak from the previously giggly intern. Daisuke jumped out of the captain's arms before he could try anything again, dramatically taking a defensive stance. He winked in his silly pose. "No promises~" he sang as he walked backwards to the door. It automatically opened, causing him to turn around and jump slightly. Curly stifled a laugh as Daisuke turned around, face slightly dusted pink. He stormed off, grumbling as he left the cargo room for good. Curly giggled to himself, still sat on the stairs, reflecting on his crew and each of their colorful personalities.
Everything is fine. Most major threats are gone. All the courts are rebuilding. So, why. Why is it, that only two months after the initial rumors started, that Lucien had to learn from a gathering of almost all the high lords that the High lord of spring was missing?
On a completely unrelated news, one of the most famous traveling band of all of Prythian got a new member! He has no clue as to what is going on but these children won't leave him alone. Please leave him alone, he's just trying to remember what his name is.
Need I say more? I was really debating between whether his was gonna be gen tam, or tamquin, or tamris, or return to my roots, tamcien. Lets leave it at a tentative tamcien shall we?
“What do you mean, he’s missing?”
“...”
He looks around the room, no one meets his eyes. To his left, Thesan clears his throat; “I see that no one told you?”
It was phrased as a question, but please, as if the answer wasn’t obvious enough. Lucien’s gaze was on him within seconds, eyes sharp and expression tense.
He normally wouldn’t take this kind of tone with people, especially not in a large gathering. Even if it wasn’t almost all of the highest powers on this continent in this meeting. Much less a high lord that he is fairly friendly with. But- this is an extreme case.
“And what,” he practically seethes, “exactly, do you mean by that?”
Two months.
It has been two months. And no one, no one, told him. To be fair, he has been away from Phrythian for far longer. But you’d think that it would be common courtesy to inform family and friends of someone you are aware is missing. Which.. admittedly, he is by all technicalities neither. So perhaps he shouldn’t be so shocked it took 2 whole months to find out Tamlin is missing.
Lucien isn’t quite sure what to think about the slimy heaviness in his gut. He can figure that out when he finds Tamlin- which he will. He has to.
Since the war, Tam had been getting better, Lucien knew that. They’ve been corresponding, he’s been working on rebuilding spring so Lucien helped with what he could. Gone were the days where folks would go days with nothing more than a vague idea where their high lord was, gone was the uncertainty from an unstable high lord. For the most part.
Lucien knows there are a bunch of unprocessed thoughts or feelings, but Tamlin won’t talk and there doesn’t ever seem to be a time for that. Later, he tells himself, later, when everything settles down. Later. Later, when he finds him. He can’t imagine, what would it be like to lose another-
Mother.
There are people working with him, every day, all day. So how is it that he’s missing? For so long? What if-. No. Lucien gives himself about two more minutes of panic. He stops outside of Tamlin’s new office. It’s fine. Taking one more deep breath, he pushes the door open, and begins mapping out logistics. Figuring out last sightings, older plans, thinking of Tamlin’s preferred haunts. He’s known him for a long time, he knows him well. Very well.
At least I hope so.
The thought saddens him, but that is not the focus for now, his… friend is missing.
How hard could it possibly be to find a wayward high lord?
. ~ about 9 weeks ago ~ .
One of the downsides of waking up in a faceful of blood, carcasses, and mud, would definitely be the absurd smell of it. Another would be the foul feeling of everything getting in places it shouldn't be. He tries to push himself up, but his limbs feel heavy and he can barely breathe. A minor inconvenience. The light breeze every so often makes things feel less, well, there. It makes the mess feel less sticky, less hot, less dirty, and overall just slightly better. Only for a moment though. The sunlight that brushes past the parted leaves from the high trees negates any mild comfort the breeze offers.
A minor inconvenience
He’s been through worse.
Once more he tries moving. Once more it feels as if he was pulling his muscles and skin apart. Giving up, he looks around, apart from his immediate Heavy as his limbs feel it really shouldn’t be this hard, so why is it that it’s so damn hard to move?
A faint stirring at his side quickly answers his questions and the stirring soon materializes on his back in the form of a small faerie. A soft gasp rang out, in the small clearing and was soon followed by a teary sniff and-
“Mama?”
What.
Sitting upright with a speed that shouldn’t be possible with the sheer amount of pain from his abdomen, he glances around frantically for the kid… only to realize that he accidentally threw that young child off.
Cauldron damn him.
Pushing aside the pain he quickly turns to the child. At first glance, the child is covered in injuries. Looking more carefully, it wasn’t hard to tell that said injuries are only an illusion caused by the sheer amount of filth that covers the child. Said filth probably also covers him. He stares at the unknown child. The child blinks. A tear stained face lights up as they notice his gaze on them, they smile with such brightness that could rival the sun despite all the filth covering them. They stand up and reach for him-
“Mama!”
Instinctively, he knows it is entirely possible. He can conceive. In fact something gives him the feeling that he has had that specific conversation at some point. With someone Important. Maybe. Probably.
But- he glances around, surely this is not..?
He opens his mouth, “Kid- oof,”
It has catapulted itself to him, and knocked the wind out of his lungs. It wiggles around a bit and clings to his chest with a force to be reckoned with. The rustling of leaves catches his attention as another pair of children - although slightly older - tumble out from the undergrowth of the forest.
They stare at him. He stares back.
He’d say their gaze was wide and innocent, but then he'd be lying.
…
While they were indeed very innocent-looking, his instinct tells him that there is no way that they are up to something good.
. . .
The silence was really starting to grate on his nerves, especially since the youngest in his arms has also taken up to watching him.
. . .
Well then, if they want to win this staring contest they have chosen the wrong opponent. Because he is-
He is-
He can’t-
He-
he's forgetting something,
it all hurts what's going on, he is going to throw up, its all overwhelming, hes can’t remember anything- whatisgoingon,
it smells bad, it hurts, his heart aches, and and-
Something tugs at his shirt. He swings his arm out- Whos attac-
“Mama”
Right, the children. He can’t -won’t- just break down. Something tells him that it’s not often he breaks down like this. Said feeling also tells him something is horribly wrong. He has places to be, and this clearing with rotting carcases isn’t it. That and the realization, he has no clue who he is.
Horrible realization, wouldn’t recommend.
Shoving down all possible emotions, he stares at the children again. The one in his arms looks like it was barely 5 or 6. Soft scales running along her cheeks and arms tells him that it must be a shifter of some sort. Chubby cheeks and teary eyes directed to him stare into his soul, it hurts, his heart aches. It clutches his shirt- well, the tatters of his shirt. ‘It’ also happens to be in a crudely cut piece of cloth, (the tears looked like it was probably ripped by teeth) that happens to be the same shade of white, dirtied by the blood and filth, of his shirt, the happens to have a hole in the middle, leaving his chest and torso exposed to the mild spring air.
The child had chosen to then, without warning, cry. Loudly. Strangely with relief, like crying to him would solve all of it’s problems.
The older children were not helping. Four pupil-less eyes glance at the sobbing one, then pointedly stares at him.
He could almost hear an annoying buzz in his head. He could feel a headache forming. He could feel a horrible sunken dread starting to crawl up from his stomach. The buzzing was feel louder. It was also getting louder, in fact it’s almost as if it was getting closer...?
Something hits him hard and fast, straight on his head. Pressure builds behind his eyes and all he can feel is the tiny hands in his hair- a sprite?, he can hear loud sobbing growing to louder wails. And the presence of more fae drawing closer and closer.
His head hits the ground and promptly blanks out.
“Mama?” He can hear the kid’s sniffles. Mother above, it was not a nightmare?
“Child, that is not your mom!” a sharp, high pitched voice practically yells, right in his ear.
Ow
“He seems like fun.” twin voices echoed eerily as one.
Wow, creepy.
“AURRRG, SHUT IT YOU TWO!”
Ok, this sprite needs to get out of his ear if he still wants to be able to hear by noon.
“Mama…”
"STOP IT!"
“Poor Blue.” Murmurs a wispy voice, gentle and calming.
“He just keeps trying.” Pities a similar voice, if his hearing wasn’t so good-which it might no longer be soon enough- he wouldn’t be able to differentiate the two.
His’s scalp was really starting to hurt from all the hair pulling from Blue. But he can’t be bothered to do anything about it just yet. Perhaps if he feigned unconsciousness long enough they would leave him alone. He wouldn’t mind fading away. Just a bit. Weirdly, he's vaguely aware of where he is. Not the day of week nor his cauldron damned name, but he’s fairly certain he’s in the spring court. One of the more south-eastern forests maybe. Closer to the former wall than the autumn border. A village or two nearby. Probably. Or has one of them fallen. He isn’t too sure.
He moves his arm sluggishly hoping to at least discourage the temperamental sprite, but no luck, he’s still in pain. He opens his eyes again. The atrocious smell hits his nose again. And the weight settled on his chest registered to him, again.
Riiight, children. How inconvenient. If he were alone perhaps he would actually pass out and pray that he wakes up fixed. He gives about two seconds to consider that plan.
Hmmm.
Nope. Judging their sizes and presence, there is no way any of them are old enough to be alone… maybe he should leave them in the village? That might or might not be nearby? He gives this plan a bit more than two seconds. … Fucking fine. He can wallow in pain and misery and confusion later. Send the kids somewhere safe, and then do that. That sounds… better. No guilt in leaving the kids without capable hands.
This time, he carefully reaches the arm that’s less in pain towards his chest, and subsequently the child. Cradling its back he sits up slowly, and opens his eyes.
He can’t have passed out for too long, for one the sun is still up, and it feels about the same intensity as before. It was maybe a bit after the monsoon season as the air was damp, but not too damp. He focuses his vision and meets the gaze of the child, glistening blue eyes tugs at his heart. Before looking around.
The sprite had decided to settle near the other children, and they watched him like hawks. Ranging from curiosity to amusement and seething rage. Even the amused twins- they had to be, their presence was too similar not to be -had a hint of sharpness in their gaze, clearly all of them were protective over the littlest one. They were definitely hybrids of some sort.
And they weren't too much older, at best in their teens, and certainly not mature. Finally the last of this little quartet was, in size, the littlest. Though if he had to guess, probably the eldest. Some kind of flower fae. Ah, that's where blue came from. Bluebells. Makes sense, if not a bit on the nose. He was till glaring at him.
No one was quite willing to break the silence that fell since he decided to sit up. That was fine. He preferred the silence anyways, even the little lizard-child was quiet, no longer sobbing. In fact, she fell asleep, as if his embrace was soothing.
It was a foreign feeling, being trusted like that, but he decided not to dwell on it too much. Focusing his energy and some magic, healing himself sufficiently to move at the very least. He’s fairly certain that something is still broken though.
It’s fine he tells himself, just drop them off, and figure the rest out, it shouldn't be too hard.
One moment makes all the difference during the battle at Blumenthal. In the aftermath, the Nein grapple with what comes next.
Featuring:
✨ A twist on Echoes of the Solstice
✨ Mighty Nein-typical emotional regulation and processing
✨ Angst with a happy ending
Header Image: Page 187 of "The Half Hour Library of Travel, Nature and Science for young readers" (1896) courtesy of the British Library's online collection here
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Dean Winchester would do anything Castiel asked. Apparently, all it takes is a truth spell to reveal that fact. (Sam already knew - he's not stupid, unlike Dean and Cas).
the snippet from this post is from this fic!
because the summary doesn't make it abundantly clear: this is shameless smut and if ur not into that then move along please :)
tagging the few people who said they wanted to be tagged in the comments :)
ceilings you can’t make out. smoke detectors. visual snow syndrome. songs that mean things. having finished rewatching something important. the bottles of glow in the dark paint on your desk. missing someone you never met. memories that aren’t quite real. community. that means something different now, you think. looking up the stairs at a wall. holding hands with people nobody else has met. a kind of sacredness runs through the air. these moments are important. to you, to them, to us. someone joins the circle. soon, more. you all have homes to go back to, but this becomes a sort of sanctuary. and you know you couldn’t get back home, anyway. church. prayer. hymns. “your” brother. stained glass windows. a door that you know won’t work. for a moment, nothing else is real. there is only here, now, these people from everywhere. you all have stories. you start telling them. you learn about each other. you learn where everyone’s from, what they’ve left behind. who they’ve left behind. one person steps up. he’s alone. he doesn’t know how he got here, but he wants to stay. that’s more than you ever had. you wonder what he’s running from. if he’s alright. you connect across times, worlds, universes. a complicated intergalactic spiderweb. so many things had to happen in order for you to end up here, now, with these people. and they did. the stars were helping you. the stars are on your side. you look to the future. you see yourself here. suddenly, a last-minute addition to the circle walks into the room. something tells you she's been through hell recently. you extend your hand. she hesitates. takes your hand. smiles just a little. and you've learned every story they have. and it's still going to be hard, but you have each other now.
Thranduil with a reader who has children and they threaten him? I feel like Thranduil being a single dad is too common now so how about we switch the roles?
Little Elves and Their Little Threats
Thranduil Oropherion x reader
↪ summary: Thranduil, in his life has never experienced being pinned down on a hardwood floor especially not by elflings who are much smaller than him.
↪ warnings: none, just fluff
↪Note: thanks for this requests, I've enjoyed writing this<3
Never had he ever thought he would be laying on a hardwood floor, his hands pinned above his head as four small hands gripped his large wrists tightly, but not too tight to hurt him or leave bruises upon his pale skin. His eyes were blown wide, mouth slightly open as he was still taken aback from the abrupt collision of two small bodies against his large one.
Not even a second before you left the living room did your two children have tackled him down, almost knocking the air out of his precious lungs.
Thranduil must have looked ridiculous laying down helplessly on the floor with two elflings pinning him down, one was staring right through his eyes as if she was searching for any malice that might cloud the ocean irises of the king, and one was holding his head in place with her little hands.
“You must not move!” A girl with (h/c) spoke, her voice so small Thranduil almost couldn't hear what she had utter. “I and my sister have questions to ask!” She cutely giggled, seeing as confusion washed over the elven king's face.
If these little elflings just knew who he was, they would have cowered in fear knowing that they'd held THEIR king hostage, but Thranduil, even if he used his position to his advantage to some people sometimes, didn't find it ideal in him to threaten these children, instead, he watched them with an amused look, the confusion and shock have been long gone once he had heard your youngest child spoke.
“Do you really take a liking to our naneth?” The girl, who was holding his wrists above his head asked, her brows arched as if she was trying to intimidate the king.
Thranduil didn't answer the question, for he was still pondering over the thought of him liking you. Was what he holds deeply in his heart still out of his likeness for you? But he knew to himself it was now a step above likeness, it was more THAN likeness.
“I do not-”
“Ha!” He didn't have the chance to finish his sentence for your eldest interjected, her (e/c) glaring at him with anger.
“You don't like nana?” The youngest almost sounded like she was disappointed upon hearing him–“No I do not like her. I don't think what I have deeply in my heart is out of my fancy for her. I'd like to say it's something more.” He was never the one to talk about his feelings openly, but knowing they were your children and he needs to earn their trust for him to have you; he confessed. After all, the three of you were not different to each other and if heaven allows it, he might become their second father they will look up to.
“You mean to say you love nana?” She asked, eager to hear his answer and when Thranduil gave a nod as an answer, she squealed in delight.
“You better be telling the truth or you will meet my fist.” The eldest who had heard what he said moved her hand in a punching motion where her fist meets her palm as if she was trying to scare him, which Thranduil found rather funny but he would never admit it.
“Trust me, I will never lay a finger on your mother. I will just love her. But for now, let's keep it our little secret, shall we?”
