Drabble #115: Exhausted
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labyfic...we had a livelier response to the drabble prompt of Drabble 114, with entries by
redwolf and me (your intrepid drabble proposer jalenstrix), and commenting love by us both as well. Hurrah!For this prompt, we continue with our one-word/phrase drabble roots:
Exhausted
Who or what’s exhausted? By who? Why? How? Tell us all about it. Labyfic-style, of course. (Especially how.)
Given our entries from recent months, let's continue with the suggested limit for this month of 500 words. Though remember that shorter pieces are most definitely welcome!
Your entry should take the following format, posted as a comment on this entry:
Word count: # of words
Drabble: $your_beautiful_drabble
I'll aim to get the next drabble challenge out on the first Friday of next month (May 6).
I'm also very happy to take suggestions if something in particular strikes your fancy -- comment on this post or PM me with your suggestions. You can see our current collected suggestions here.
Remember: Feedback is LOVE. So do reply to your fellow labyficcers' drabbles if so inclined. (Though be careful of concrit unless specifically okayed by the author beforehand.)
Device
2022-04-09 00:47 (UTC)Drabble:
Sarah was curled up on the throne reading while she kept an eye on the chaos in the currently goblin free throne room, the floor of which had been covered in a large drop cloth.
After days spent consulting with various chemists, masons and engineers, Jareth had recruited the chess set to assist him in the construction phase of the project. As far as Sarah could tell, this appeared to be emulating tradesmen as they scurried up ladders and crawled around on the floor.
The chess set were a pair of fae adjacent misfits, improbably named Rook and Bishop, who had been collected by the Labyrinth, which had granted them citizenship and the ability to freely travel between the Underground and Above. Sarah had encountered many other changelings and halflings throughout the kingdom with a similar arrangement.
While not in on his scheme, far be it for Sarah to interrupt a Goblin King in his customary breeches and an unexpectedly tight shirt from bouncing around the room like a sugared up toddler after a particularly good Halloween. She was just pleased that he was happy and favoured clothing that made the notorious plumber’s crack a non event.
She let the conversation wash over her, mostly due to the language that, while still being English, having devolved into something she no longer recognised as her native tongue.
As lovely as it was, Sarah still didn’t grasp the logistics of Jareth’s accent, but she had noted how mutable it was depending on the audience. If he was angry or dealing with people outside the kingdom, it was sharp enough to draw blood. When he was talking to her, it softened into what the chess set had once referred to as London boy. But when he was working with the aforementioned pair, it broadened dramatically and was much more difficult for her to understand.
Bishop hailed from London and had an accent not dissimilar to Jareth, but Glaswegian born Rook was hard for Sarah to comprehend at the best of times. When the three of them were together, the usual British endearments she was accustomed to hearing, morphed into vulgarities that would make a sailor blush. The unfamiliar slang and shorthand of long familiarity made their communication difficult to follow, but Sarah could only parse Rook’s even broader accent as a growl.
Whatever they were assembling ran up the walls and across the ceiling of the throne room in a manner that was either complicated or slapdash. Sarah was yet to decide.
She was still pondering that very issue when the owner of the very attractive rear end that she had been openly ogling stood up and caught her in the act. Sarah returned Jareth’s knowing smirk as he joined her and offered her a gentle kiss before announcing that his endeavour was complete. She was about to ask how he could tell from the tangled mess, but he just took her hand and spirited her away to prepare for an incoming visitor.
Re: Device
2022-05-29 01:35 (UTC)Re: Device
2022-05-29 02:55 (UTC)Motion
2022-04-16 03:42 (UTC)Drabble:
Sarah was dressed in a monochromatic gothloli confection of tulle and frills with her hair in carefully straightened pigtails. Jareth’s heavily buckled leather outfit paired nicely with her vertigo inducing platform bondage boots.
She’d had a very real worry about breaking an ankle attempting to navigate the usual insanity of the throne room, but it was still surprisingly goblin free with the floor mostly covered by a drop cloth. Jareth offered his elbow to help her balance as she tottered across to the room and up the stairs, before he sprawled across the throne and pulled her onto his lap. They had time to exchange a brief kiss before the portal mirror placed at the edge of the pit shimmered to life.
Their guest stumbled out of the mirror into the pit. He was yet another scion of minor nobility making a claim for the crown suffering from the same ethereal beauty as the others; looking like he was somewhere between one too many cosmetic surgeries and the victim of a tabloid magazine with poor Photoshop skills. Sarah wasn’t sure if all the nobility of the other kingdoms shared the same aesthetic, but the ones she met had passed beyond beauty and were well into the uncanny valley.
Clad in a voluminous amount of blinding white satin that was covered in an inordinate amount of gemstones, Sarah assumed was his attempt at blatantly conveying the wealth of his family, but he had not reckoned on Sarah finding he more closely resembled a cut rate Elvis impersonator who’d been a little over enthusiastic with a Bedazzler.
Adopting a bored expression and ignoring the little lord in favour of idly toying with Jareth’s hair, Sarah surreptitiously watched the goblins carefully sneaking back into the room behind their guest. She’d also noted that Jareth’s crop had tapped her leg gently with each insult the insufferable lordling had directed towards her. The third time it happened coincided with a quiet clunk.
Their visitor spoke a little more loudly over the clatters and thunks Jareth had set in motion and Sarah watched mesmerised as the mechanism worked its way around the room, before it finally cut a rope that upended a bucket over the unfortunate fae. At the accompanying shrieks, the goblins exploded into the room and covered the screaming man in chicken feathers.
Sarah almost lost her composure as she realised that the goo used in the machine was a recent concoction that clung to skin and natural fibres like napalm while having an interesting side effect of muting magic.
Living up to the expectations of these annoying children was exhausting, but an afternoon of hearing Jareth’s joyous laughter as he’d assembled his Rube Goldberg device, followed by his delight as a chicken feather bedecked lordling stumbled back through the portal mirror, was worth it. As she ran a hand over the many chromed buckles across his chest, she suspected that there may be a little more enjoyment to be had from their day.
Re: Motion
2022-05-29 01:37 (UTC)Re: Motion
2022-05-29 02:58 (UTC)Re: Motion
2022-05-29 18:46 (UTC)no subject
2022-06-02 20:13 (UTC)Drabble:
I opened the door to a vision of utter despondency in Goblin King form. “What exactly is the matter, honey?”
Jareth’s head drooped over the three bassinets. “I. Am utterly. And completely exhausted.”
To my credit, my lips only twitched up slightly. “From living up to their expectations of you?”
His shoulders positively slumped. “How can something so tiny demand so much?”
“I know. It’s more than three times what Feanor needed. No one said infant triplets would be easy.“
His lip curled in a repressed snarl. “Especially when your own mother has terrified all the help away.”
“She said she was trying to help. It’s just that her expectations…” I shrugged.
“Are also exhausting to live up to. Yes, I’m intimately aware. I did grow up under the questionable shelter of her wing.”
I reached a hand over to rub between his shoulder blades. “At least they’re quiet now. They do look so angelic when they’re sleeping in their swaddles.”
“Thank all the powers that be for those swaddles. How long can they use them? Until they’re, what, twelve years old?”
“Mmm…more like twelve weeks.”
“What?”
“Basically until they start being able to roll over. Then it’s a suffocation hazard.”
“But if they’re not swaddled, how will they sleep?”
“You mean how will we sleep?”
“Precisely!”
“If we do the sleep cues right and we’re lucky like we were with Feanor, they’ll sleep without the swaddles.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “From your lips to the Fates’ desires.”
I patted his shoulder. “It’s positively cruel how the babies’ magic blocks your own ability to manipulate the flow of time in your own realm.”
“This never happened with Feanor.”
“The doctors said it’ll pass. But until then…”
“…we suffer.”
“But at least we’re suffering together.”
“How is it that you always find the silver lining?”
“Natural inclination and lots of practice. I’ve been married to you for years now.”
A ghost of a smile fluttered across his lips. “And thank all the powers that be for that.”
“You do say the sweetest things, honey.”
“Natural inclination and lots of practice, my love.”
no subject
2023-02-01 23:59 (UTC)