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wren-of-the-woods · 11 months

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Curse Fic Recs

I absolutely love Witcher fics where a character gets cursed so I thought I'd share some of my favorites! All of them are Geraskier except for a few Lambden ones at the end.

If anyone has other fics to reccommend, please feel free to give them a shoutout – I’d love to read them!

Cursed Jaskier

A Friend in the Wild by @samstree (Rated T, 1k)

In which Geralt acquires a tiny mouse friend who wouldn't stop following him.

If There's Any Sleep At Night by @smolalienbee (Rated T, 22k)

A mare, also known as a mara or a zmora - a malicious entity, a bringer of nightmares and a demon of the night. An easy enough contract to fulfill, if only frustrating, or at least that’s what Geralt believes when he first sets out to hunt down one such mare. What he doesn’t expect is to be wrapped up in a tale of a wronged soul, of love and of joy.

My Name is Hidden On Your Tongue by @anarchycox (Rated T, 10k)

Jaskier is cursed. Well his whole family line is. Every male born child cannot be named. They can be given a name, but it will never be a true one and people will always have an allergic reaction to saying this false name. Only a soulmate speaking your true name aloud will break the curse. The family though has never cared, they've only cared about the family fortune and marrying well. But Jaskier cares. He is determined to travel the world, find his soulmate and learn what his name is. And the best way to travel the world seems to be with a rather taciturn witcher named Geralt of Rivia. If he started to hope that Geralt would be the one to say his true name, well that was one thing that Jaskier would not say aloud.

The Cursed Jewels of Lettenhove by GoldenDaydreams (Rated T, 8k)

Geralt has no intention of getting involved with breaking a curse and naturally ends up very involved.

Silver and Copper by @heronfem (Rated M, 56k)

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

Priceless by @handwrittenhello (Rated M, 38k)

Jaskier was cursed as a child; when spilled, his blood turns to rubies and his tears turn to diamonds. When his secret is discovered, Geralt must save him from those who would take advantage of it. Together they work to break the curse, but the cost might end up being too steep.

Set My Wings on Fire by bilboakenshield27 (Not Rated, 4k)

Jaskier gets turned into a bird and has to warn Geralt about an ambush.

Sleep of the Dead by @dancedelion (Rated T, 20k)

Jaskier thinks he hit rock bottom when Geralt flushed twenty years of friendship down the drain, but then he finds himself suddenly translucent and rudely walked through by a traveller. Apparently he's dead - that's certainly a new low. He needs to find out what happened, and who better to help him than the man who's made more than clear he wants nothing to do with him.

The Sandpiper by @welcomemysentence (Rated T, 2k)

When Jaskier gets cursed into an actual sandpiper, the little coast bird, the only way to save him is with true love's kiss.

What's Engraved Upon My Heart (In Letters Deeply Worn) by @made-of-constellations-blog (Rated T, 6k)

Jaskier gets cursed to be a lark with a strange failsafe to turn him back. Geralt misses this, and realizes too late that he's not ready to lose his bard.

to be held by @wanderlust-t (Rated T, 1k)

The knife dropped on the ground. And Geralt’s thoughts reached to a halt for a moment. He had no rope. Not anything to keep Jaskier still. To hold him back. Oh. That was going to be a really long night.

Catskier by @al-in-my-head (Rated T, 17k)

Due to an unfortunate encounter with a mage while him and Geralt are apart, Jaskier is transformed into a cat. It just so happens that Geralt likes talking to animals.

Cursed Geralt

A Marvelous Night for a Moondance by @flowercrown-bard (Rated T, 1k)

There was a warning every child living near Oakwood Valley knew. "Don't go out at night, or you'll disturb the Moonlit Dancer." No one truly knew who the Moonlit Dancer was, but everyone agreed on two things: The Dancer must be dangerous. And he must be oh so lonely.

animal instinct by leodesic (Rated M, 13k)

Despite Jaskier's hard work, there are still plenty of people who hate witchers. They think they're monstrous, inhuman, only held back from violence by a thin veneer of control. One mage has a plan to spread his views by capturing a witcher and bewitching them to remove their control. When the Butcher of Blaviken walks into his hideout, he's convinced he's found the perfect candidate - and a convenient way to get rid of the pesky bard that's been singing his praises. Jaskier is forced to agree witchers are not human, but that doesn't mean they're dangerous. In fact, he's astounded by how many of Geralt's uncontrolled impulses involve touching.

Connecting dots by @dapandapod (Rated G, 3k)

Geralt is hit with a lying curse, and it takes Jaskier an embarrassing amount of time to figure it out. Now, it Jaskier only would stick to the safe questions....

Don't Go Stealing My Heart by @thesilverqueenlady (Rated T, 17k)

When Jaskier is stiffed by a lord on payment, he decides to help himself to proper compensation. Alongside the correct amount of gold and silver, he also steals a beautiful silver wolf's head medallion. It's safe to say that he is not expecting the medallion to be haunted by the spirit of a very grumpy, very handsome, very cursed Witcher.

Cuddles, Curses, and Confusion by me :D (Rated T, 3k)

Geralt becomes oddly affectionate after being cursed by a mage. Jaskier would just like his life to be less complicated, please.

Spectre's Soul also by me :D (Rated T, 31k)

When Jaskier tried to go on a date with a man named Rience, he did not expect to nearly be killed. He certainly did not expect to discover a beautiful valley while running away from him. He very definitely did not expect to find out that the valley was haunted — by an absurdly beautiful man. Or: In which Geralt is cursed to be a ghost and Jaskier is the first person in decades to talk to him.

Cursed Aiden

Headache at First Sight by YorkAndDelta (Rated T, 12k)

A story of how Lambert ends up looking after a cursed cat, helping a Witcher from a rival school retrieve his gear from angry mages, and maybe finds love along the way.

Cursed Lambert

the mortifying ordeal of being known as a cat by @skaldingrayne Rated M, 10k

Lambert is cursed to be a cat. Fortunately, he finds Jaskier.

You can find my other reclists here!

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #jaskier #wren recs #wren talks #lambden #the witcher fic rec #reclist #twn #i actually made this list a few months ago and then completely forgot it in my google drive until today lol #but i found it today so here you go!#:D

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chvnnie · 1 year

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Hannie thoughts 🩷

He pursued you so sweetly and now you're expecting a sweet slow courtship. But now that he realizes just how into him you are, he takes full advantage. Rough in the bedroom confident Jisung. 😍 Y/n overwhelmed but secretly loves it.

“courtship” gave me royal vibes. soooOoOOOo

also idk why this is so long!!! im sorry!!! this concept got the best of me!!!

tell me you love royal aus without telling me 🫠

SMUT — MINORS DNI

The kingdom is lucky to have Jisung on their throne. Crowned as a mere teenager, nobody expected the Young King to thrive. What could he possibly know about ruling a kingdom? In three years time, they’ll lose all credibility, and he his head. Just watch; a boy cannot be King.

Within a year, all ill words spoken about the King were silenced. Charismatic, yet shy, he found his footing in royal life with ease. Leading council meetings, carefully listening and fairly judging every case brought to the court. Age is deceiving; the people haven’t had a leader of this quality in many, many years.

It wouldn’t be fair to say Jisung is just a good King. Even though ten years have passed since his coronation, he can still be found dressed in plain clothes without jewels or his crown, riding into town on his precious golden mare. She is cared for by his Hand, and best friend, as he walks the market.

Not a single stall is passed by him, even if the products are the same as the day before. Carefully, he will look over each and every item while making small talk.

“Alright this morning, Sir?”

“Is this a new recipe? The bread is sweeter than usual — it’s wonderful!”

“Oh my, your craft has improved greatly! I am impressed, keep at it!”

And then the King hands them exactly three gold coins even if he has no intention of buying anything. They’ll offer him something; a small item, or a piece of food, but he always denies it. A gift for them. Encouragement. Proof that he sees their skills and what they bring to the kingdom and is appreciative of it. It also reminds them that he truly cares about them as people. Without them, this city wouldn’t flourish the way it does.

Occasionally, he’ll buy something from the baker. He’s particularly fond of the blueberry poppy bread she makes. She’s a good woman; her husband fought hard and loyally for his father, and for that Jisung is eternally grateful for. Some weekends, he’ll visit her in her cottage. Have tea with her, listen to stories of her late beloved and all the great things he did in life.

She always gets five coins. But shush, don’t tell anybody.

At the end of the market is the only stall he’ll buy from everyday. Brown paper, pink twine, white daisies. The same thing, everyday. The florist always gives him a warm smile.

“How is she?”

And it brings a smile to The King’s face. The genuine care in their tones — because he genuinely cares.

“Well.” He digs in his coin purse, always pulling out too many coins. Just speaking about his love tinges his cheeks a dark pink. “As always.”

An exchange — coins, flowers. “When will you wed?”

“Shortly after my celebration day.” He denies the return of extra coins, as usual. “The autumn weather is her favorite.”

“Wish her well for me.”

“Of course.”

Jisung is a man of routine. Personal goodbyes to each and every merchant before he’s back on his horse. The sky is still pink when he’s back at the castle. The Hand takes his horse so the King can walk through the cool halls. Take the winding stairs up to the top level, where the royal family sleeps.

It used to just be him in this hall. Echoey, empty, reminding him of what price has to be paid for him to take the throne.

Not now, though. The room at the opposite end of the hall is now filled, well loved and used.

Taking a right from the staircase brings him to the door. Kindly dismissing the guard, the King knocks three times. A code; announcing himself without having to.

“Come in!”

The curtains are pushed open, fresh sunlight spilling in from the many windows. Yesterday’s daisies are in a crystal vase, sat on the table in the sitting area. Beautifully bloomed, the floral scent filling the golden room.

You’re by the biggest window, sat on the ledge. The glass is pushed open just slightly, letting the spring breeze cool your body. The dress you’re wearing is one of Jisung’s favorites; off the shoulder, a lavender color with little flowers stitched into the neckline with white thread.

The most beautiful soon-to-be Queen the land has ever seen.

“Good morning, petal.” The nickname rolls off his tongue. “Rest well?”

Closing the book, you nod. “And you, my dear?”

“All right.” Only a few steps away, he takes the bouquet out from behind his back and presents it to you. “For you. As always.”

Oh, the bright smile you give him. It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again. Gracefully, you rise from your seat and take the fresh flowers, bringing to your nose to sniff.

“They’re lovely, Jisung. Thank you.”

Everyday, a peck to his cheek. Quick — you’re far too shy to linger. The King has a routine. So he turns his head just slightly, left side of his face presented to you. Ready to receive your gratitude.

The routine breaks. Swiftly, you walk past your fiancé, taking the flowers to the vase. Leaving him stunned.

Strange.

“I was wondering if today we might ride to the sea?” You don’t look to him as you speak — actually, it looks like you’re trying to hide behind the white flowers. “I’ve been a tad homesick.”

The steps he takes are cautious. “Of course.” Hesitance is laced in his tone. This isn’t your ordinary behavior. “What’s on your mind, darling?”

It’s like you’ve seen a ghost, blood running from your face and eyes widen. But in a snap, the expression is gone. “Oh, nothing. I want to write about the sea, you know how my brother loves it.”

Carefully, Jisung takes a seat on your velvet sofa. “Ah, yes. How is Seungmin?”

“His letters say he is well. The ocean is treating him nicely, though I wish he wouldn’t have chosen that path.”

Son and daughter of a prestigious family. One to be Queen, the other a runaway pirate.

“There’s always room for him in our kingdom. He would do well with us.”

You swallow dryly. What is happening? “The gracious and merciful Young King, what would this world be without you?”

Jisung can’t take this anymore. What has gotten into his beloved? Where is your head at? Grabbing your wrist, he pulls you away from the vase. Making you stand in front of him.

“Speak your worries.”

“I have none, Your Grace—“

“Though merciful, you know I hate to be made a fool.” His eyes narrow, but expression stays soft. “Love, let me help.”

You can’t meet his gaze, staring at the slit in your dress as you speak. “I’m afraid my thoughts are…doubtful.”

“Of?”

Finally, your eyes meet.

“Oh.”

What good is a crown? What good is a throne? What good is this kingdom if you are not by his side? Emotions tear at him, making his lip tremble despite his best efforts.

“Not of that kind.” You quickly reassure, catching the hurt on his face. “You are my love, Jisung. I would never want a life without you.”

“Good, good.” He won’t deny his worry. That isn’t fair to you. “Then what is it?”

Jisung thinks you’re precious. You still get so shy around him, even after years together. Especially when you want to express your feelings or ask for something.

Reassuringly, he rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, still caught in his. “You don’t have to—“

“I don’t want to wait any longer.”

The way you said it, so firm and confident. As if you’ve been pondering this, an opinion you’ve held for a while and are now sure of. The King is taken aback briefly, trying to figure out what your words mean.

“For the wedding?” It’s all he can come up with, but even he doesn’t sound too sure in it. “I’m sure we could plan it for the upcoming solstice, my love, if that’s what you desire.”

You shake your head quickly, and he can tell you’re starting to second guess saying it. “No, no. I want to wed in autumn. I don’t want to wait for you.”

What ever could you mean? Wait for him? Why, he’s right here. Touching you, speaking to you. Are you feeling ill? Those words make no—

Oh.

Oh, how he made himself the fool.

Suddenly, he’s in dire need of wine. Mouth dry, tongue heavy. Though he’s had many, many dreams of you in such a way, never would he push it on you. You felt as if your body was sacred, and he respected that. The King wants nothing but for you to feel comfortable and safe around him. If you were waiting for him, he would be waiting for you as well.

Sometimes the dresses you wear do drive him mad. Form fitting and hugging your curves, or with a lower neckline that he can see down at the right angle. Those have made it hard, and only starved him more. Like dangling bread in front of the hungry.

“Are you certain?” Jisung finally speaks, tone dropping several octaves.

You nod, softly wrapping your other hand around the one he has grasped. It’s so delicate, how you drop to your knees in front of him. Starry eyes blinking at him.

“More than, my King.” You bring the hands to your lips, soft kisses across his knuckles. “My patience is dry. I no longer want to wait for your love.”

“Rise.”

“What?”

“Your King gave you a command.” His demeanor changes like a switch, the feral need he’s drowned for so long rising to the surface. “Rise. No Queen of mine will ever kneel, even for me.”

Your eyes never leave his, standing up fully in front of him. He follows, using your hand as a guide up and into your body. A hand on the left side of your neck, fingers creeping into your perfectly combed hair. It’s used to bring your lips to his, properly kissing you.

Many kisses have been shared between you, but none like this. It’s intense, every pent up and buried feeling finding new life with the movement of your lips. It’s more addictive than the blueberry poppy bread from the baker, tongues desperate for the taste to linger. For the feelings to stay.

Loving you is a greater honor than the crown, the King is sure of it.

He curses your corset, making you giggle when he spins you gracefully to get a better look at it. The tugs on it are rough, eager to get the fabric off your body. Heavens, Jisung knows he loves this dress but does it have to be so dreadful to remove?

It’s too much. Your desires tangle with his own, sparking brighter than the jewels on the crown. Than the gold of coins. The energy it deepens the King’s decent — the hole you’re tumbling into doesn’t have a bottom.

Your nails rip his shirt, accidentally tangling the strings of his pants in your rush. There’s no grace in the first moments. Ready to see each other’s bodies, to touch, to taste. To be one.

The King tries his best to be gentle with you. To give you the sweetest kisses, careful touches. He’s heard stories, knows that it can be too much. The last thing he wants is for you to not find pleasure in this.

But, it can only last for so long. The breaking comes with he accidentally takes your breath away — truly, he didn’t mean to place his hand there. Apologies are ready to fumble out when he sees it.

The look you give him. Shocked, a little frightened. But excited.

Jisung never considered his ego very large, but he’s open to self reflection.

“Oh, petal, is this what you like?” He squeezes your throat, tips of his fingers digging into your soft skin. Though you nod, there’s no real need for an answer. He can feel it in the clench around his cock, the legs hooked around his waist pulling him closer. With a dry laugh, he picks up the pace of his hips. Fucking you hard enough the bed is becoming unstable. “I have to admit my surprise. The shy, gentle Queen likes to be fucked like a common whore.”

As soon as the words leave, he feels a tinge of regret. What harsh words to say to someone he loves—

Do his eyes deceive him? You’re whimpering, nodding your head. Unable to speak from the lack of air, but in full agreement.

Heavens. The King is done for.

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have you at the brothel.” Control is lost, the wooden frame starting to crack under the King’s intense movements. “Let the people have a taste of the King’s favorite cunt.”

“N-no.” You seem to speak. “Only y-you—“

“Aw, don’t be selfish, petal.” He pinches your cheek, finding joy in the tears painting your face. “You know I am a generous ruler.”

Jisung enjoys riling you up like this. Enjoys the tears, the cries, the way you’re twitching and squirming underneath him. Not to escape. No, from the force of something world shattering.

“Are you going to cum?” He teases you. “From those awful threats?”

You cannot help yourself, nodding quickly. Little, soft begs falling from your lips.

Maybe Jisung is power hungry. Maybe the crown has gone to his head. Maybe that’s why he laughs, stopping to leave you right on the edge. You’re so distraught, wide eyed and frantically begging for him to finish.

“Oh, but petal. I never said I would be generous to you.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #han smut #jisung smut #chvnnie thots

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justalittleficsideblog · 11 months

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I loved the fics of mammon and Satan protecting mc from creepy demons!! could you do one with Lucifer?? That would be amazing thank you!

Hello my dear anon! I hope this meets your expectations! Thank you so much for support of my other works <3

Lucifer - An impromptu ballroom dance leads to something else

wk - 1.5k

warnings: None!

Classical music rang through your ears as you side stepped into the banquet with Lucifer. His arm politely grasped onto yours, being ever the proper gentleman as you floated over towards Diavolo and what you assumed to be the human world equivalent of nobility.

Exceptionally dressed and demon forms on display, the nobles were quite an intimidating looking bunch.

And you and Lucifer were headed, straight. Towards. Them.

“Ah… lucifer..”

“Easy. This entire thing is more of a showoff from Diavolo. You being here and showing face is important for RAD,” he chides. Despite his remark, he looked unsettled himself. Without his brothers around he felt a unnerved at the mass of demons that seemed to be eyeing you like some sort of prize mare.

He would have to be careful, it’s not that he thought he wouldn’t be able to protect you, oh no. However, he knew tonight would demand much of his attention, and without Mammon or Beelzebub here to act as a chaperone… it made him nervous. He could only hope Barbatos would attempt to divert his attention away from his young lord and keep an eye on you.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit of fluttering build up from his stomach to his chest as you squeezed in a bit closer to him as the crowd became denser. Like he was your source of strength.

“Ah!,” the future king himself exclaimed as they neared. “Welcome, Lucifer! MC!”

After making introductions with the nobles, you decided to try some of the desert options that were out. Barbatos’ cooking was exceptional, and you would hate to miss the chance to compliment his efforts for such a grand event.

Slipping away from Lucifer, who nodded at you when you skipped over towards the table, you surveyed the options in front of you.

Finally deciding on what looked like a fancy, gothic éclair, you reached towards it with a plate in your hand. A clawed hand brushed yours, causing you to jolt back in surprise.

“My apologies!” you flushed, hoping your manners were up to par with what was expected here.

A deep, raspy chuckle came from the demon, “There is no need for that. It seems we have similar taste in fine baked goods, hmm?” His voice was melancholic, deep, and enticing with the way he slurred his vowels.

“I dare say I agree,” you joked back, snatching the éclair and placing it onto your plate. “I never see people eat here enough at things like this.” You gestured towards the vast sea of people.

The demon hummed in agreement, “Barbatos’ cooking is not something to be taken lightly. His baked goods are the stuff of legends.” His movements were snake-like, quick and reflexive.

Suddenly, a light, cheery violin piece began playing. Couples and demons took to the floor, glasses of demonous abandoned to the waiters and on tabletops as they took to dancing.

“Do you care for a dance?” the tall demon raised an eyebrow in your direction, his void-black features reflecting off of his jeweled horns that draped down the sides of his face.

“As fun as it looks,” you sighed. “I cannot say that I’m particularly gifted in that department.”

“Come,” he beckoned, an arm outstretched. “A pretty thing such as yourself should not be a wallflower.”

You looked around for Lucifer, feeling nervous and almost vulnerable without his presence. Deciding it would be rude to decline, you nodded your head and grasped his massive fingers on your own as you took to the floor.

The music has changed its course, faster now than before. You felt the demon encircle a hand around your waist, pulling you in closer. You shivered when you felt one of his claws lazily dragging across your back, digging into your spine.

“I must say,” he started, spinning you around and catching you, his face suddenly very near your own. “You smell even sweeter up close.”

He twirled you, the rush of it making you dizzy for a moment, pushing your hand onto his chest to stabilize yourself.

The rush of warm breath on your neck made you shiver. You jolted back, this wasn’t Lucifer. He may have the same suave movements and rippling power that emanates off of him, but this was not your Lucifer.

“I think that concludes the song,” you chuckled nervously, eyes scanning the crowd for Lucifer. They landed on Barbatos instead, your eyes widening.

Come on Barbatos, help me out here!

He merely bowed his head slightly before blending into the crowd.

“Now, where are you running off so quick?” His clawed hands grip your wrist tightly, his body towering over yours as he cupped your chin in his hands. You noticed his cape was slightly obscuring your view. The sudden feeling of claustrophobia overtook you, your breaths coming ragged as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your neck, moving up, up, up..

“Mind if I cut in?”

You froze solid, eyes darting up towards one of the most powerful demons in the devildom. You scrambled back, realizing the position that this demon had put you in.

Shit! Did Lucifer really think that…!

“I do mind, actually.” The demon stood taller, obviously irked that someone had intervened with his plaything. “We actually were just—”

“My sincerest apologies, Lord. But I can assure you that you will not be continuing with them tonight,” Lucifer’s voice was calm, cool even. But his stance was scary, his wings flared and eyes burning with untapped aggression as he locked into the other demons.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, goosebumps running across your back as he placed his gloved hand between your shoulder blades. You had never seen him this ruthless, even with his brothers.

Before the demon could make a scene with Lucifer, he tugged you deeper into the dance floor. One hand resting politely on the side of your hip and the other clasping your hand he led you in a gentle waltz alongside the other couples.

“I do apologize,” he sighed, eyes downcast. “I had hoped that me being here would divert some attention away from you but—”

“Lucifer, how did you even know where I was?” you were puzzled, you had searched the crowd for him recklessly, but you had only seen…..ah.

“Barbatos.”

He nodded. “He quickly alerted me to the situation.” He gently led you in a twirl, “I am truly sorry, I should’ve kept a better eye on you.”

“I’m alright, Lucifer. I just wanted to be away from the crowd a bit and well… I guess the desert table is not safe from creeps, either.”

His gaze hardened, a frown appearing on his face as he gently trailed a thumb along your jaw and down your neck, where he must’ve seen the demon… uh… making his moves. You shivered.

As the dance went on, you now had your back placed against his chest, arms crossed as he delicately held your form. You noticed his wings were curved in towards you a bit, the feathers tickling your sides.

“Relax, Lucifer. No one here is going to eat me.” You brushed a wing away from you.

“I just might.”

The hall suddenly spun, now upside down in your vision. You gazed up, realizing Lucifer had lifted your leg up as well, hugging it close to his side.

“Lucifer..” you whispered, hands clasped around his neck.

“When I saw his hands on your body, on your face, I was ready to tear him limb from limb. If Diavolo hadn’t made me snap out of it in time…,” he trailed off as he stared down at you through his thick lashes, bringing you back up again.

His hands cupped the sides of your face, and they met your own as you cradled his hands against your flushed cheeks.

“Pride may be my sin, MC. But you might truly be my demise,” he leaned dangerously close to you. He winced, almost like he was in pain at your proximity.

“Let’s go to the balcony,” you needed the rush of cool air to settle your nerves. He led you to the terrace, his wings gently surrounding you as the wind caught your hair. Ever the protector, he was.

Your elbows landed on the railing, breathing in the night air deeply as you felt Lucifer’s gaze on you. Feelings be damned, you grabbed his gloved hand and slowly removed his attire. Bringing his knuckles to your mouth you gently kissed the back of his hand, your own thumb gently rubbing against his calloused one.

“Juts be thankful there were no females asking you to dance, Lucifer,” you brushed your shoulder past him. “Things would’ve gotten really ugly.”

Grinning, you walked back into the party, leaving behind quite the flustered Lucifer leaning against the railing, his wings sagging a bit as he felt his face scorch.

#lucifer x reader #obey me x reader #shall we date #obey me #barbatos x reader #i rlly love barbatos as some sneaky lil guy #this idea lowkey slammed me in the middle of work fr #isk why just did

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tangibletechnomancy · 14 days

Text

Doing It Wrong On Purpose: Episode 1 - The Un-Ship

Today's experiment: What happens if I prompt for something, and then negative prompt all the main keywords, plus various synonyms and related words?

The answer: Some gloriously weird stuff.

For example, let's look at a negative cat:

Positive prompt: A cat on a windowsill during a storm

Negative prompt: Cat, feline, felidae, kitty, kitten, animal, pet, windowsill, window, glass, pane, house, storm, rain, water, lightning, thunder, clouds, torrent, downpour, snow, blizzard, wind, windy

Interesting! Let's get a little more fantasy with it and try for an anti-deer:

Positive prompt: A deer in a peaceful flowery meadow, crystals, midnight, fantasy, colorful

Negative prompt: Deer, cervidae, animal, elk, moose, stag, doe, fawn, reindeer, antelope, cervid, antlers, flowers, night, dark, trees, foliage, bloom, stars, night, tranquil, fantastic, vibrant, cool, magic, blue, moon, sky, crystal, stone, statue, topiary, floral, blossom

Between these two experiments, including a few dozen other generations that remain unposted, one thing I can say for sure is that for living subjects, it's a great way to get the kind of anatomical wonk that older models are (in)famous for - and it makes sense why, the model is trying to make something that looks like a certain subject...but once it starts to look too much like it, well, shit, we told it NOT to do that! Break something up! Given that I love that kind of wonk, I think I've found a useful tool for myself.

One more living subject, and let's get even more abstract with our direction here:

Positive prompt: mind horse

Negative prompt: horse, equine, colt, filly, mare, stallion, bronco, pony, mind, brain, thought, essence, psyche, intelligence, consciousness, imagination, dream, soul, visualization, intellect, wit, cognizance

Now let's try something that isn't alive. One thing I love AI for is surreal settings and landscapes - lets try one now!

Positive prompt: A magic palace garden made of crystal and gold

Negative prompt: Palace, magic, crystal, gold, fantasy, castle, estate, stronghold, temple, garden, flowers, plants, blossoms, bloom, blooms, trees, grass, stems, foliage, leaves, greenery, branches, bush, bushes, hedge, hedges, metal, luxury, stone, glass, brass, rose, polished, jewel, prism, courtyard

I then tried to see if, learning from the animal subjects, I could make it more likely to return one of my favorite "mistakes" - making it impossible to discern the point where a water area ends and a sky area begins. I wasn't immediately successful, but I came up with some results I found pleasing regardless-

Positive prompt: Secret hideout in a cave behind a waterfall in the foggy forest on a floating sky island in fluffy clouds

Negative prompt: hideout, camp, campsite, home, abode, house, dwelling, rest, shelter, waterfall, water, cave, grotto, forest, woods, woodland, trees, fountain, cascade, pond, stream, lake, river, brook, puddle, creek, pool, beach, ocean, sea, cloud, clouds, sky, cumulus, cirrus, nimbus, fog, storm, rain, sunshower, falls

It seems that with landscapes it's got a much clearer and more specific "idea" of what a [SUBJECT] without [SUBJECT] looks like; it's more inclined to invent very specific, very consistent unasked for related elements. With the animals, I was tweaking the weight on the positive prompt to avoid getting straightforwardly just what I had positive (and negative) prompted, but with landscapes, I just get... almost something else entirely.

So how about inanimate objects? Let's try a ship, perhaps?

Positive prompt: A huge sailing ship with brilliant prismatic crystal sails on a stormy, turbulent sea of sunset clouds

Negative prompt: ship, boat, sailboat, sailing ship, pirate ship, galleon, ketch, schooner, sloop, cutter, sail, sea, ocean, storm, wind, rain, water, waves, cloudy, clouds, fog, sunset, dusk, dawn, sunrise, twilight, evening

...okay, I'm in love with the un-ship. It truly does manage to consistently give me results that look like, yet entirely unlike, a ship. It is everything I love about AI as a medium. More than that, it is my friend.

At lower positive prompt weights, they only get even more beautifully chaotic.

I want to live on one of these (in an alternate universe where they're geometrically possible and structurally sound, that is).

Failing that, I will be featuring them a lot from now on.

All images generated using Simple Stable, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

#ai art #generated art #simple stable #stable diffusion

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jpopstreaming · 9 months

Audio

🆕🎶 「 MANATSU NO VENUS 」 new single by Jewel Mare&Rouge is now available worldwide! 🌐 Listen now and discover new sounds from Japan on our weekly updated playlist 🎧 https://spoti.fi/3lgjH73

#Jewel Mare&Rouge #Japanese music #Jmusic #Jpop

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only-horse-polls · 1 month

Text

Fictional Horse Tournament (FHT)

Starting list - Group Haley

#Group Haley propaganda

All media of origin are listed in parentheses and sorted in alphabetical order. Character names are not sorted in any order.

The Captain (101 Dalmatians)

James Baxter (Adventure Time)

Widow, Spider-Horse (Amazing Spider-Man, Spider-Verse, Vault of Spiders, Spider-Geddon, Marvel)

Amika (Amika)

Glory (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Honor (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Silver Mare (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Stranger (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Gaudior (A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Time Quintet)

Aurea (Aurea de wilde pony)

Philippe (Beauty and the Beast)

Jewel (Bella Sara)

Thunder (Bella Sara)

Bella (Bella Sara)

Fiona (Bella Sara)

Nike (Bella Sara)

Firewalker (Bella Sara)

Star (Bella Sara)

Arapaho (Bella Sara)

Lenape (Bella Sara)

Moonfairy (Bella Sara)

Starlight (Bella Sara)

Sunflower (Bella Sara)

Mustang (Bella Sara)

Elymyn (Bella Sara)

Pantheon (Bella Sara)

Amadeus (Bibi and Tina)

Sabrina (Bibi and Tina)

Black Beauty (Black Beauty)

Ginger (Black Beauty)

Merrylegs (Black Beauty)

Angus (Brave)

Kona (Breyer #100111, Wind Dancer)

Brisa (Breyer #100113, Wind Dancer)

Sirocco (Breyer #100112, Wind Dancer)

Sumatra (Breyer #100105, Wind Dancer)

Casey (Casey the Utterly Impossible Horse)

Horse (Centaurworld)

Major (Cinderella)

Rafal (De ontsnapping van Rafal)

Pipo (De Bleshof, Het eerste optreden)

Isobel (De Bleshof, Alles voor mijn paard)

Tjitske (De Bleshof, Een echt paardenmeisje)

Pepijn (De Bleshof, Pepijn is de allerliefste)

Pico (De zoektocht van Pico)

Galupy (Diddl)

Unimon (Digimon)

Binky (Discworld)

Susan, Joshua (Doctor Who, A Town Called Mercy)

Arthur (Doctor Who, The Girl in the Fireplace)

Rocinante (Don Quixote)

Mary Lou, Primrose (Dragon Quest IV: Chapters of the Chosen, Dragon Quest V: Hand of the Heavenly Bride)

Peggy Sue (Dragon Quest VI: Realms of Revelation)

Red Hare (Dynasty Warrior)

Leonard (Elden Ring)

Ixion (Final Fantasy X)

Kokuoh, 黒王, Kokuō (Fist of the North Star, 北斗の拳, Hokuto no Ken)

The Nokk (Frozen II)

#FHT #Group Haley

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smolvenger · 3 months

Note

Also, I can't say no to blurbs and especially not to something extraordinarily fluffy like "Touch her and you die", tehehe... Perhaps with Henry V? 🤭

Hiiii bestie! I'm going to make the blurbs shorter and simpler if you don't mind!

His Queen (Henry V x fem! Reader blurb)

Your boat docked right on the shores of France. So while your husband, the king, was determined to fight there- you had to see him.

Henry had waited with his whole army on the shore of a cliff. Then he dismounted his horse and ran up. It was a reminder of his youth- the young, firey, springy king. He easily bounded through the little beach and the plank right as you stepped up to get off the boat. Before his army and the guards, he embraced you passionately and you back.

"How are you, my sweet wife?"

"Weary from the journey though it was smooth," you confessed.

"For such a lady as you, even the seas and winds themselves would still and become gentle for you to cross," he said.

He hugged you again, peppering a kiss onto your cheek as you laughed, feeling the tickle of his facial hair and re-acquainting yourself with his lips.

He gestured to one of the lords. The Lord of York brought forth a beautiful white mare and you gasped.

"A gift for you, my lady," he offered.

You thanked him and he helped you to mount her. She accepted you- gentle was her demeanor and what a good companion she would make here in France.

"Why, the seas were quite misty- I should call her Mist, for she reminds me a little of it," you cooed, petting her mane.

"A noble, strong, yet sweet and beautiful thing, much like my dearest queen and lady," Henry said.

"My, what words roll off your tongue now! They shall call you a poet, not a ruler," you teased.

"Then it means I am an artist, and you are the muse then for such words. And if I must continue my pen, then my muse shouldn't be kept too long from me," he bantered back lightly.

He got up on his own horse- a white stallion quoting yours. You felt like a fairy queen, not a mortal one, as she trotted over the grass.

And you were led to ride and sit on your horse before the army. Dressed in their greys and blacks and scraps of leather, their eyes were big.

"This here, is Her Majesty, the Queen of England," announced Henry.

You smiled, though part of you went stiff. A few looks seemed to be borderline leers. How long have these men been deprived of a woman's presence?

Henry noticed, and his voice turned a darker tone, a fiercer one.

"She is both your ruler and a lady, and you must respect her as you do both. She is also my wife, I must remind you..."

His eyes darkened. The army stiffened, turning pale and attentive like naughty schoolboys caught by their teacher.

"You must guard her and listen to and follow her as you do Harry of England. She is England's Woman and it's most precious jewel. And should any miscreant or bully among you dare lay a finger on that precious jewel, I shall condemn you at once to hang. Remember the fate of Bardolph- one of your own who greedily robbed a poor church of its dearest sacraments- and she here is the greatest sacrament of England. And if none of you want to share worse than his fate, then cool your lust elsewhere...or I shall execute you myself." Henry threatened all of them.

The soldiers bowed their heads and complied. You gave him a smile. Though the only woman there, you were unafraid.

You were ready to join your husband and support him without fear.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 7 months

Text

The five kingdoms of the sons of Fëanor: part 1

Himring and the March of Maedhros

Warning. This post contains mentions of weapons use | animal death | orc death | use of animal parts | use of alcohol

✴️ Maedhros's lordship ushers in a culture that centers on highly trained warriors and military service. Himring and the March of Maedhros are soon dotted with heavily fortified fortresses made of rough-hewn stone.

✴️ The interiors of these buildings are decorated with animal pelt rugs and antlers, featherbeds that are mostly made out of softer animal furs, and furniture that is more practical than elegant. Maedhros's own fortress has a map carved onto the table in his council chamber.

✴️ There is no discrimination when it comes to military service. Any elf, irrespective of their gender, can take up arms if they have the necessary skills for wielding weapons. Those with exceptional skills are sometimes invited to learn under Meadhros himself.

✴️ Military training, while taking up the majority of most elves' time, is not the only activity in their day-to-day lives. Given the harshness of the terrain, there is very little farming. Foraging for root vegetables and wild berries is quite common, along with hunting and fishing. Mountain goats are eventually captured and domesticated for their meat and milk. Diary-based foods such as cream, berries, meat, and fish make up the majority of the diet for those who live in Himring and the March. Mares’ milk is fermented to make an alcoholic beverage that the elves drink in the absence of wine.

✴️ In the beginning, the fashions in and around Himring consisted of fur and leather decorated with beads and bones and feathers. Later on, when order fully set in, colors obtained from natural dyes found their way onto clothes worn by elves in the form of elaborate embroidery. This embroidery would take the form of the lands that Hithrim sits on, its animals, and the tales of valor of the elves who live within.

✴️ Of the smithies, there are only three, with the largest found in Maedhros' fortress; cutting down trees for reasons other than warmth and cooking and the making of spears, bows, and arrows is not seen as wise.

✴️ While there are riders who take messages between fortresses and outposts and homes, great signal fires are also used, in case orc movements are sighted.

✴️ What jewels are there in elven families are carefully kept, and lent out to kin only when needed. Because of this, elves turn to feathers, animal bones, and teeth for bodily adornments, especially the parts of an animal that are killed during an elf's first hunt.

✴️ A similar attitude is adopted towards weapons and armor made in Valinor. These are treated with great care, and elves routinely take metal arrowheads, swords, shields and anything else they can make use of from dead orcs.

✴️ Life in Himring and the March is quite restrictive due to the nearness of Angband and the constant attacks by its forces. Elves have to always be on guard. Because of this, feasts and frolics are few and far between and, if held, are kept to a modest scale. Storytelling is the highlight of the evening. Elflings who were born after the crossing into Middle Earth often ask for stories of Valinor.

#maedhros #maedhros imagine #himring #march of maedhros #the sons of fëanor #the sons of fëanor imagine #headcanon #my headcanon #the silm #the silmarillion #The silm imagine #💫a world of whimsy writes

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poppy-metal · 2 years

Note

Historical AU where everyone thinks your Prince Steve's mistress and is scandalized that he'd dare jilt his wife Nancy, not knowing that you're mistress to them both. Not knowing that it was the perfect, pristine Princess who picked you out first when you were new to the court, took you under her wing and then underneath her in the baths, purring that she'd help you learn to please your future husband. Not knowing that Nancy's the one who brought you into their massive bed and tied you up with some of her silks before calling her husband in and telling him that she'd gotten him a present and have been sharing you nightly ever since. Not knowing that they both shower you with jewels and nice clothes because they like seeing you walk around a ballroom with subtle signs of their ownership because they might be in line to rule the country, but you're the thing they're most possessive and protective over.

Everyone knows that your dowry isn't the best compared to some of the other young women at court, but they're still surprised that you seem particularly unlucky in attracting any suitors, unaware that Steve's been warning off any of the lecherous widowers who look at you and see a brood mare to secure their family lines and nothing more. And you? You're content with the way things are, love devoting yourself to the future rulers in public and worshipping them in private, and you trust them no matter what. You know where you fit in the relationship, know that you're a form of stress relief and comfort and loyalty through court machinations, and you're happy with that. Most mistresses might see their relationships as jobs, with sex provided to earn all those gifts, but you adore everything about this and would let them fuck you silly for nothing in return.

When the suitors for your hand do start getting more pushy, more desperate, Steve and Nancy sit you down and say that they want you married off for safety to someone at court, someone that will understand the nature of the relationship and who will be okay with sharing but will also treat you as good as they do. You don't know much about Lord Munson other than him being close friends with the Prince, but he assures you that he'll pamper you just as much as Steve and Nancy do and that he's okay sharing you "as long as you occasionally come warm my bed too, you know. I need an heir and a spare just as much as anyone else does." He worships you, parades you around as his treasured wife, and while he loves to have you trapped alone in bed with him, he also loves getting to watch the royal couple use you like the dutiful woman you are. It becomes an in joke between him and Nancy--who also enjoys watching (and directing) Steve and Eddie use you--that they're the ones benefitting the most from this relationship, getting to alternate who watches and who plays.

The court gossips about the close friendship of the two couples because courts love gossip, of course, but none of you care. You don't mind in the slightest whether your children seem to alter in how they look a bit more like your husband or the prince and invent only the vaguest excuse for why your children eventually call the royal children brother or sister, because you're all getting what you need: each other.

oh my god.

#ask #my dream scenario you could say #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #nancy wheeler x reader

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formulapai · 2 months

Text

DAY TWENTY TWO : HERO/VILLAIN

GEORGE RUSSELL

You can hear blood pumping in your ears and your breath shorten, body pushed to its limits as you sprint down the dark alleys. The black wooden door leading to your hideout comes to sight and you give your final efforts to reach it, legs betraying you just before you can get your hand on the handle. You fall to your knees in a pathetic way, vision going black and head spinning yet you still clutch the black bag in your arms, refusing to give it up even when you hear footsteps coming your way. Of courts he caught up to you, that damn bastard. The only thing going through your mind before you finally pass out is how much you despise the man.

George huffs when he sees the state you’re in, weak and beaten but still wearing your proudest grin even when you’re unconscious. If only you weren’t that stubborn, he could help you get out of your wicked life. Yet here you are again, the Queen’s jewels in your precious bag only so you can sell them to someone clearly profiting of your needs. A sigh leaves his lips as he faintly hears the sirens coming your way, not thinking much as he heaves you over his shoulder and use his power to get on the roofs, discreetly leading the two of you to his hideout.

Alex, his best friend and loyal helping hand, frowns in distaste when he sees who George is carrying in his arms, shaking his head but still making his way towards the couch, spreading various plaids on it so your blood doesn’t stain it. His friend thanks him before carefully laying you down, too preoccupied with you to notice Alex leaving to get the first aid kit. The hero’s eyes are trained on you, admiring your freckles and your rosy cheeks visible even as dirt mares your skin, mixed with sweat and the sophisticated yet minimal makeup you’ve put on before going to the Queen’s birthday celebrations.

Your pants are ripped at the knees, black silk contrasting against the blood on your skin. You had looked so elegant when he saw you in the crowd, eyes shining with mirth and spying everyone, lips curled in an annoying, charming grin. No one here knew who you were, the country’s most researched thief, no one but him. You and him go a long way, first encountering when he was still discovering his powers and how to use them, nearly killing you in the process. It’s no wonder you hate his guts, the man did put you in the hospital for a few months and had the audacity to show up almost everyday and offer you various things.

When George comes back, kit in hands, he can’t help but snort at his friend’s state, staring at you in awe with his mouth agape. He throws the kit his way, seeing his hand shoot out to catch it while not taking his eyes off you and his snort turns to a deep laugh, walking next to him and whacking the back of his head. George makes an offended sound, rubbing where his friend’s hit and glaring up at him, cursing him between clenched teeth. The here leaves you in his hands, fully trusting his best friend to take care of you the same way he’s taking care of him after his missions, putting his medical studies to the test.

The warm water feels good on his skin, relaxing his muscles and turning him into mush, a drastic change of scenery from a few hours ago. He didn’t fight you, he’s never hurt you ever since the hospital incident, but he still did everything he could to stop you, chasing you up and down the city and repairing the troubles you’ve caused in your wake. You’re not bad at heart, such a kind and thoughtful soul to those knowing you, but money is rare these days and your little brother’s medical bills won’t pay themselves, leading you to the dark path of thievery and dark markets, the jobs getting more demanding each days.

You’re not bad and that’s why he cares so much, that’s why he takes some of his clothes out so you can have something comfortable to wear while you’re unconscious, that’s why he thanks Alex profusely when he sees you all stitched up and cleaned up, that’s why he tucks you in the spare room and kiss your hair before leaving to her some sleep himself. You’re not bad and that’s how he knows he’s not wrong in loving you, not wrong in offering his heart to you even as you stomp on it every time, leaving it bruised and bleeding. You’re not bad, you’re just scared and lost in this big world, a feral cat afraid of trusting anyone and suffering again.

That’s why he’s surprised when you’re still there the morning after, preparing breakfast in the kitchen as Alex sits on the counter, carefully staring at you but letting you do your things. He’s persuaded you’d have left, as you usually did, yet you’re in his kitchen and you turn toward him when he clears his throat, glaring at him and puffing your cheeks up, looking like an angry hamster. An adorable, angry hamster. His friend hides a snicker behind his hand, smugly greeting him before going back to observing you. George walks towards you and is about to offer some help when he’s interrupted by you threatening to cut his precious jewels off if he comes near you, forcing him to sit down just like Alex did.

And when the three of you are done with breakfast, Alex leaving to go to his uni and you standing in front of the door, about to leave too, he can’t believe his ears when you turn to him and thank him quietly, hesitating before rushing to him and kissing his cheek. You still hold your bag close to your chest, and you still glare at him, but your pink ears and the stars in your eyes tell him that maybe Alex is right when he says that you love him back. He hopes that maybe, just maybe, it’ll be enough for you to leave this life behind and accept his help, because he’s not sure just how many more missions you have in you.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 #george russell x reader #george russell fluff #george russell imagine #george russell

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lamemaster · 19 days

Text

Yours Truly, Passenger Princess

Pairing: Caranthir x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: On a normal day Caranthir did not care of snobbish, bratty human princesses. He on most days, did not care much for the second born. Some wonder caring had done in the past.

AN: I really love it when one day you're doing your homework and this just randomly floods your mind. Gosh I loved writing this. Peace✌️(Also the annon that sent me so many Curse of Bloodline requests...I gotchu)

"Ew, I'm not stepping on dirt," the princess declared, her voice dripping with disdain.

Caranthir felt a vein throbbing in his temple. Hours they had been waiting, his normally swift strides reduced to a slow, frustrated escort for this… this… human embodiment of a gilded cage.

"It's land," Caranthir gritted out, staring at the princess who remained stubbornly ensconced in her palanquin. "Do you need clouds to step on?"

The princess tilted her head, her perfectly coiffed hair glinting in the sunlight. "Cloud?" she echoed, a look of genuine surprise crossing her features. "Can you do that? I've never stepped on a cloud before. The closest I've come to is, the fur rug that looks like a well...rug." She finished with a self-satisfied pout, seemingly oblivious to the growing tension.

On a normal day Caranthir did not care of snobbish, bratty human princesses. He on most days, did not care much for the second born. Some wonder caring had done in the past.

Most humans were either too strung up about their ideals or busy bending backwards to be a part of his people. And the later were worse.

But your brand of human was rare. Utterly depraved, exponentially ignorant, blind to misery you caused. You sat in your palanquin, fiddling with your bejeweled rings, while the peasants beneath you wilted under the unrelenting sun.

And today, you were Caranthir's problem. One assigned by Maedhros.

You were supposed to be the lucky charm that secured an alliance with your warlord father, who, conveniently, refused to sign anything until his precious daughter graced the council with her presence.

You hummed a nonsensical tune, completely oblivious to the growing tension. Caranthir glanced towards the servants struggling with the palanquin. A bead of sweat trickled down the forehead of one, and he let out a barely audible cough.

Caranthir, at his wit's end, resorted to the last thing on his mind. He ushered Melena, the gentlest mare in all of Arda, closer to your palanquin. Her soft brown eyes seemed to plead with him for this not to be a terrible idea.

"Ride with me," he offered, extending his hand towards you. Melena, ever drawn to shiny objects, leaned in further, her nose twitching at the glint of your bejeweled rings. Caranthir mentally apologized to the mare, knowing this wouldn't be a peaceful journey.

"Absolutely not!" you declared, your voice leaving no room for argument. "A lady does not ride horses. My father forbids it!" You glanced towards Melena with wide eyes, your hand hovering cautiously near the magnificent creature's mane. "Does it… bite?"

The question tumbled out of your mouth with such innocent curiosity that Caranthir couldn't help but chuckle, albeit a humorless one. You, of course, misinterpreted the sound, snapping your hand back as if burned. This only served to further pique Melena's interest. She nudged your hand playfully with her soft muzzle, the glint of your rings mesmerizing her.

Caranthir sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a longer day than he anticipated.

"Alright, princess," he said, his voice strained. "How about we try something else? Perhaps…" He cast a desperate glance at Melena, then back at you. An idea, slightly less ridiculous than the last, began to form in his mind.

The palanquin swayed alarmingly as Caranthir lunged for you, arms outstretched. A breathless yelp escaped your lips before you were engulfed in a whirlwind of silks and jewels. Caranthir found himself face-to-face with a mountain of fabric, the delicate scents of your perfumes assaulting his senses.

"Ah – eep!" you sputtered, your voice muffled by a particularly feathery cushion that was conveniently his chest. Realization dawned on your face, and horror began to morph your features. Caranthir watched with a hint of amusement as your initial indignation gave way to sheer panic. He couldn't help but feel a sliver of satisfaction.

"Not clouds, but I hope this will do, princess?" Caranthir asked before you could launch into a tirade. He was already striding towards the council room, his steps purposeful. Behind them, your servants stood frozen, aghast at their princess being carried off like a prize-winning pumpkin.

A stunned silence followed him, broken only by the rustle of fabric against fabric. Caranthir, for all his outward stoicism, couldn't help but imagine the amused stares of the approaching elves. Carrying a human princess in his arms felt about as graceful as an elephant attempting ballet.

But then, a small sound reached his ears. A hesitant cough, then a whisper so soft he almost missed it. "I guess this will do."

"What did you say, princess?" Caranthir asked, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice. He loosened his grip slightly, the weight of you shifting ever so slightly in his arms.

Your hand, surprisingly strong, reached out and clutched at the loose fabric of his robe. "Thanks," you mumbled, the defiance finally melting away from your voice. Perhaps the thought of a bumpy landing was more motivation than gratitude.

Up close, Caranthir could see the details he'd missed before. The way your eyelashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks, unfairly long as some might say. The scent of your perfume, a strange mix of floral and something faintly spicy, filled his senses. He felt a shiver run down his spine, a sensation entirely unrelated to the cool air.

Suddenly, the walk became filled with a different kind of tension. The merry jingle of your earrings seemed to echo in the otherwise silent path.

Then, a surprise. Your hand reached up, a single strand of his long, braid captured between your fingers. He stopped short, surprised by the sudden touch.

"I like your hair," you declared, tilting your head to examine the braid you held captive. "An elven trait or some crazy good shampoo?" You compared a lock of your own hair to his, pouting slightly at the difference in texture.

Caranthir felt a warmth creep up his neck, entirely separate from the exertion of carrying you. He cleared his throat, surprised by his sudden fluster. "Elven trait, princess," he managed, his voice a touch deeper than usual. "Though good shampoo wouldn't hurt."

A smile bloomed on your face, brighter than any jewel you adorned. "Maybe we can make a trade then," you bargained, a playful glint in your eyes. Now that was something Caranthir understood. A trade.

He couldn't help but chuckle, a low rumble in his chest. Negotiation was second nature to him, and the prospect of bargaining with a human princess who valued hair care products over gold or land was an unexpected amusement.

"A trade, you say?" he raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in his voice. "And what treasures do you possess that could possibly be worth the secrets of elven hair care?"

You tilted your head, considering. "Peacock feather fans for a lifetime of lustrous locks?" you offered, your voice laced with mock seriousness. "Perhaps pearly earrings that shimmer like moonlight?"

Caranthir fought back another smile. "Those trinkets are no match for the secrets you seek, princess." He countered, enjoying the banter.

"Then surprise me, elf-lord," you declared, feigning offense. "Show me what wonders your elven shampoos hold that are worth more than all the jewels in my father's vault!"

The council room doors loomed ahead, and Caranthir knew they couldn't postpone the real negotiations any longer. However, a mischievous glint entered his eyes. Perhaps, just perhaps, this alliance wouldn't be so dreadful after all. In fact, it might even provide some… entertainment.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #tolkien elves #caranthir x reader #fluff #loved writing this

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