Pym Cursed - Blog Posts
CURSED 15 DAY CHALLENGE
Day 4: Favorite Ship→ Pym & the Red Spear
- You try me, healer. And that isn’t hard to do when I can’t find any bloody gold! - Maybe you should try raiding the Red Paladins. - You speak again! - Well, you’ve been stealing from the thrice-robbed. I mean, these towns, they’ve already been sacked by the Red Paladins. If it’s gold you’re after, strike their camps. They’ve got wagons full. - You’re a shit healer. [to the crew] Relay that order! Stay on Beggars’ Coast!
*Throw Lancelot homosexually thinking about Gawain at you and run.*
It’d been a month since NightPearl had adopted Lancelot as it’s mother. He didn't mind at all, in fact he found the little dragon adorable. It would sneak anywhere it could find, and its favorite place was his lap. The only problem was when it brought a dead rabbit in the tent and he had to throw it away, but other than that it was perfect.
On days like today, when he was lying on his back, NightPearl would come and sprawl on his chest, enjoying every fraction of Lancelot's natural warmth that it could get, while Lancelot caressed its long body and just listened to Squirrel’s nonsense or listened to Gawain's voice. He never really paid attention to what Gawain said, it was usually something boring about what the council was thinking about him or about his wounds, instead he paid attention to his voice, which was much more engaging than what was friendly allowed.
Sometimes Pym would make a joke about how Gawain would be jealous of NightPearl for being able to snuggle into Lancelot's chest while the two of them couldn't even sleep in the same bed. The monk always rolled his eyes and said it didn't make sense, even though his stupid heart beat a little faster every time he heard that. And thank God NightPearl didn't understand what the redhead was saying or it would bite Gawain from head to toe. He and Gawain barely saw each other, nor did they speak to each other properly, since talking was not something that Lancelot was taught to do often. It was not even part of his routine.
The world around Lancelot has never been so calm, and so boring. He was used to leaving very early, around six in the morning, half past six if he was feeling particularly lazy, and going to track the fey by tracks and scents. At ten o'clock he would return to camp and make an oral report of everything achieved, go to the fields to train for two hours, then go for lunch, have lunch, and leave again. After lunch he would go to the already tracked tribes, this time with a group of paladins, and would decimate and burn whatever they found. At sixteen hours he would escape from the rest of the paladins and take a secret bath to remove the excess dirt and blood that bothered his senses and skin. At seventeen o'clock he would be back at church and praying something particularly long, if it were Saturday he would pray a rosary, if it were Sunday he would be at mass. After mass, or pray, there is dinner, but if it were Saturday he would be fasting. Ten or nine o'clock at night he should already be in bed, because it's a few hours before Salt's torture sessions start and he would at least get a good rest if he slept earlier.
There is nothing in his routine about talking to anyone, except about reports and prayer, but only because it was part of his job and he should always seek God daily.
But now, with the fey, his entire meticulously memorized routine were thrown into the fifth of hells. Now his routine consisted of: Waking up, being forced by Gawain to eat breakfast followed by a lecture on why it’s important to eat every meal, then listening to Squirrel tell a story, lunch, Polly, actually now Pym, coming to check on his injuries. And now Pym stayed and told him about something that happened while she was with the Raiders or some new gossip at camp, which is strangely interesting. Squirrel arrives again, tells ‘em about his day. Gawain arrives with dinner for everyone, they talk and Lancelot is grateful for not being included, gods know how much he hates interacting while eating. Dinner ends, Pym and Squirrel go somewhere else, Gawain stays and cleans his injuries. They don't say anything, just stand there in the only alone moment they have. Gawain slowly cleans his broken skin with a wet cloth, his body closer than he had ever let any man or woman get close to him, he could hear his breathing behind him, The drops of water running down his back make him shiver, and he could feel Gawain's intense gaze on him the entire time. His careful hands went all over the length of his back before slowly pulling away. Gawain pulls away and tells Lancelot that it is ten o'clock, his usual bedtime. Lancelot turns and covers himself with the sheet that Squirrel stole for him on the first day, but that doesn't stop him from faintly hearing the other man change his clothes on the other side of the tent. The boots being thrown away, the shirt being taken off and discarded, the belt being left aside, the pants coming down his legs, as well as the new pants being put on, but no sound of the shirt being put on, Gawain did not sleep with his shirt on, and finally the sound of him laying down on the mattress and covering himself. He listens to every movement every night. Not that he was a pervert, he just had no option.
Now, NightPearl always comes and snuggles up to him, which makes his heart progressively slow down. God, what kind of demon did he come to live with to leave him like this? He would embarrass himself by the end of the year at this rate. Damn Gawain for having sounds so- NO! He couldn't think that! They are just tentmates, nothing more. Lancelot would curse Venus and Cupid before going to sleep, they are two motherfuckers for doing this to him.
And on his worst days, Lancelot would have an unwanted dream about those sounds. But the gods know he would rather cut his own tongue out than say that to anyone.
for data: Venus=Aphrodite; Cupid=Eros.
@lancedoncrimsonwings @dinogod
WIP Wednesday Thursday
Can we please ignore the fact i took two days to respond? In my defense I was stuck in a loop listening to Sabrina Carpenter's album, Epic Musical and Chappell Roan. AND finishing my fanfic's first chapter to finally post it on ao3.
Said that, thank you for the tag @lancedoncrimsonwings! This isn't something canon in my lore, it's just a cute bunny plot that came to me when I was learning to draw dragons. 'Cause latins myths, dragons are related to fire, and in my lore, the Ashfolk have bodies with a high body temperature, which can become even hotter depending on their emotions or state of health. Well, enjoy!
There was nothing special that day, it was just the basic, boring even, he dared to say. Lancelot was sitting, putting his shirt back on after finishing his daily check to see if any wounds were infected. Nothing special. Except that the girl examining him this time wasn't Polly, but a freckled red-haired girl who reached his chin. Pym was her name.
The poor girl was so scared that she didn't even speak.
He would lie down as soon as she left, probably just lie down and stare at the ceiling until he dozed off, even though he was sleepless. The redhead was about to walk out the door and Lancelot was about to lie down when they both heard high-pitched screams outside, and through the gap, Lancelot managed to catch a glimpse of something fast and strangely agile running clumsily between the people's feet, and Merlin, Nimue and Morgana trying to catch the thing. The three of them failed.
It didn't take long for the thing to sneak past everyone's feet and reach the tent they were in, and pass through the entire floor scaring every soul in that place out of their bodies. At a glance, the man thinks that what was running was a really large lizard or an iguana. He was almost right.
The monk takes his feet off the floor and Pym climbs onto the table and hides behind him. It seems that the unknown thing scared her more than he did. Unfortunately, none of this stopped the giant lizard from climbing up the table and climbing up Lancelot's leg. Both of them froze. The creature froze on Lancelot's leg, looking into his eyes, and Lancelot froze as soon as he felt the thing crawling up his leg.
The room fell silent. The monk realizes that what has wrapped itself around his leg is actually a baby dragon, and the dragon discovers that the man's body is actually very warm, and they both look eye to eye. Paralyzed.
The dragon had pearly white scales, large curious violet eyes, and sparkling wings. The claws weren't big enough to really hurt yet, but they were like little blunt needles hanging on his leg. It was… cute. As if a piece of the moon had given it life.
The little thing starts moving again, slowly and cautiously. Climbing up Lancelot's leg until he climbed his torso through his shirt. The curious little dragon pulls the collar of Lancelot's shirt and tries to see what's inside, and falls in his shirt. Lancelot let out a snort of laughter and lifted his shirt for the dragon come out of there. That's when Merlin, Nimue and Morgana came in, and found the dragon climbing up the monk's arm and rubbing itself affectionately against him. Purring and rubbing its little head against the curve of the junction of his nose and eye, and Lancelot was… Smiling?!
This was something new, but not unwelcome. Everyone stands still and open-mouthed at the interaction, but no one interferes. The dragon makes itself comfortable in Lancelot's warm, cozy lap, still purring and rubbing against Lancelot's hand.
Lancelot for his part, warms his body a little more to welcome the presence of the little dragon, and continues to smile at the corners of his lips and caress the little animal.
Looks like he won't need to nap today after all.