Beginning-writer - Don't Know What Type, But I Write Something.

*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 Saturday tag

Damn i completaly forgot to post this thing, school is eating me out alive. Anyways, thank you @lancedoncrimsonwings.

Things went by very quickly, months passed and it was already February. It was still damn winter, but everyone always tried to convince him that it wasn't that bad. And in the midst of the cold, the fey obtained resources and a willpower that Lancelot particularly envied and asked so that they could have a Lupercalia festivity. He remembers the three days of lupercalia where they held feasts for healing and fertility and drank with the fauns. It was also when lovers declared themselves to each other in a way he never forgot.

At the birth of Aphrodite or Venus, Goddess of love and beauty, she is created from sea foam and walked through the sand to find the other Olympians, consequently her symbol is a shell. Centuries ago, it was realized that when sand is exposed to a certain temperature, it crystallizes, and as Ashes have fire in their blood, handling this would not be as difficult just as with other metals.

Every Lupercalia celebration, couples or lovers go to the beaches, light a fire and look for the shell that most reminds them of their partner, and then return to their loved one's side. Then they gathered a handful of sand in their hands with the shell in the middle and heated it until the sand melted into a crystal. They made flowers with the crystal, usually the favorites of their loved ones, each one was unique due to the way it was made and the shell inside it, the shells were exchanged and then they spent the night celebrating and loving each other. On the next day, the previous year's flower was buried in the gardens or temples of goddesses related to love or fertility. They were called love-forges.

Many women appeared pregnant after the celebration. And in fact that's how he gained a younger brother.

When Lancelot was a child, he remembered seeing his father and two mothers making these flowers for each other and exchanging them among themselves, and then they decorated the house with them until the following year, where they buried them in the garden of the goddesses.

Now Lancelot is almost thirty years old and has never made a love-forge for anyone. He thought he would never do it until a jerk with green eyes came into his life last autumn.

Now the monk suddenly finds himself waking up at dawn and voluntarily going out in the cold to go to the nearest beach and walk along the sea coast looking for the shell that most reminded him of his best friend. But how could a single shell remind him of someone like Gawain? It wasn't possible. Gawain would never be someone who could be described in a single, small shell.

After a good few minutes of walking along the coast, Lancelot's eyes fall on something small, bright green that almost immediately reminds him of his best friend, and suspiciously to his stupid heart, desired lover.

A small, flat, chubby shell, with a spiral shape as captivating as his green eyes. Its color was a vibrant light green, the base was greener than its center, which was turning white, the marks caused by the spirals looked golden, and it was so beautiful in the moonlight that it made his heart beat faster. How could something so small remind him of such an important person? The shell did not remembered him any other than Gawain. It was only as perfect as him.

Lancelot takes the shell between his hands and returns to the sand, taking a small handful between his hands. His heart was racing too fast to be considered normal, but at least it kept him warm. He places the small shell in the middle, burying it with more sand and blowing fire several times, melting the sand until it forms a malleable crystal. His hands work to create the petals, round and large, leaving the shell in the middle.

He delicately made each petal, each one held something he liked about his friend, or a moment of them together. The smell of his hair, the captivating eyes holding him as he talks, the hands helping him put his clothes back on when his ribs were broken, the way their lips almost touch when they whisper secrets to each other, the stolen clothes and teasing at breakfast. Everything that reminded him of him as each round petal was placed delicately and slowly on a gardenia, a flower that signified secret love. He finishes the flower as in tradition, a kiss on the petals on the shell.

"What is that?" Suddenly Gawain's voice sounds behind him, scaring him and making him look over his shoulder to where the other man is looking at him. Gods, was he so distracted that he didn't hear or feel Gawain nearby?

“Just a flower. It was a tradition of my people and I wanted to do it now that I, well, came back.” He responds, the heart accelerating the closer Gawain comes, until he sits next to him, but much closer than is friendly permitted.

He turns his face away from the flower to look at Gawain, their lips almost touching for a moment and both men take a few seconds to compose themselves and stop looking at each other's lips. “Does it always end with a kiss like that?” Gawain whispered, sliding his eyes to the crystal gardenia in his friend's hand. "Yes." The other responds without turns.

The green-eyed man extends his hand, touching Lancelot's and holding the gardenia with him, and speeding up both their hearts even more. “May I?” He asks, and Lancelot nods, sure that he's talking about the flower, but is surprised when suddenly his best friend's lips are on his. It's just a peck, a press of lips, but it makes the blue-eyed man's brain stop and it takes a few seconds before he responds to the kiss with a press of lips of his own.

Gawain's lips were as soft as he imagined, and Lancelot knows that his marks are glowing with the amount of happiness and passion he feels in that moment. The kiss seems to last forever, even though it was only a few long seconds. They break the kiss, both looking at each other and again the other man is the first to speak. “We should get back to the tent, before you freeze from lack of heat.” The man nods and they both get up with each other's help, but Lancelot is surprised again when Gawain pulls him to his chest and whispers in his ear. “I’ll cuddle you all night so you don’t get cold.” Lancelot feels his marks glowing brighter, his cheeks heat up and he probably looks like a tomato judging by the way his love laughed triumphantly and walked away, while he stood still for a while before following him back to the camp with the flower in his hands.

That man was still going to give him a heart attack.

Here is the inspiration for the shell and what a gardenia looks like:

This was inspired by me and the person i like showing that we like each other through origami of our favorite flowers. My heart skipped a beat when they said that they have each of the lilies I gave them in a different house. And since Lancelot has no idea how to show love I decided to put this on him too.

Happy valentines day, also late.

Based on this (but slightly altered)

King Arthur and Gamille the Saxon, from Vulgate Cycle

[....]

[....]

[...]

[...]

So... nothing really hints at foul play between Arthur and Gamille (other than the "affected" line, but that's just seems to be normal infatuation). This is in contrast to the later False Guinevere arc, where magic was involved.

Arthur really did just go court her willingly.

It's also interesting that Gamille doesn't actually die. She just gets injured/crippled and that's that; the story moves on without remarking her fate.

Thank you for the tag @holy3cake! And I'm tagging @dinogod @warlocklawyer666 and @the-tav3rn-0wner

Crush:

Okay first my crush, as an aromantic kid I didn't really have a crush until I was a bit older because I honestly didn't understand how someone could like someone just because of their appearance and in like three episodes, but when It hit me, oh boy, It hit hard. And like a good queer kid, my first two crushes were women.

The first was Marceline and specifically her in that scene where she sings "I'm just your problem" to Princess Bubblegum in that huge hat and with the most country and gay clothes at the same time that I have ever seen in my life. And the second is Amalia from Deus salve o Rei (Good save the King), which is a national novel and I honestly don't think it needs any explanation.

(left is Marceline and right is Amalia)

First fic:

Now my first fic was what got me, because I thought I didn't have it anymore. I was a child, and I say child because I wrote it when I was 12 and didn't even know how to write yet, I was really insecure and my chronic anxiety didn't help me. I was ashamed of being the Freak fanfic, which I proudly admit today, and I deleted it from Ao3. BUT INCREDIBLY I STILL HAD IT IN MY LANGUAGE ON WATTPAD!

This is the fic. Yes it was a Lancewain one, and yes I've been obsessed with them for years. Yes this will continue for more years.

Translation of titles:

Name: For Love

First chapter: Not so friendly, but a start.

Second chapter: The knight says "hi" to life again.

Third chapter: Sweet melody

First time meeting a character:

The first character that made me discover that characters were not fixed but rather actors was actualy a voice actor. Who is Guilherme Briggs, he did Cosmo from the Fairly OddParents and the stepmother's otter, Otto, in Barbie Rapunzel. To be honest, he does everything iconic characters i know, he did the English dub of Death in Puss in Boots 2 and now he's going to do the Portuguese dubbing of Stolas in Helluva Boss.

First ship:

Monica and Cebolinha from Monica's Gang. But after I grew up I realized how problematic their relationship is in Monica's Gang Young.

Anyway, it was good to relive my origins!

THROWBACK THURSDAY!!

Rules: In true throwback fashion, share one of your first crushes, first fics (or artwork if you prefer!), first time you met a character and first ship (you can go as far back as you like, or even as little as a month back!)

Hi everyone! For throwback thursday, I wanted to do a silly little game based on past preferences! And also to spread fanfiction love, let's revive some love for older fics <3. Enjoy :D xx

First Crush/Crushes:

Okay so for the crushes, I picked a daddy and maybe also a daddy? I mean I had a crush on Josh Hutcherson since I was 12 (Bridge to Terabithia was that awkward teen phase) but it helps since he aged as I did lmao. And Bill Hader? Well. I can't explain that one. I loved him so much at Uni that someone actually got me a shirt with his face on it. No notes.

First Fic (I should note, this doesn't have to be one of your first EVER fics. Just an old one that you like!):

Okay so this is the first and only threesome I've ever written. It's actually not as hideous as I remember, but it was an absolute hoot writing it. And Saw always stays in my heart as a fandom <3. If you're interested in reading, here you go ----> Request Granted :)

First time you met a character:

I chose both Harry's here, heheheeh! So I don't watch HOTD, but every time I see Harry Collett posted i'm like "BUT HE WAS A TINY LITTLE BABY IN CASUALTY!" Casualty is a British Medical Drama, and it has many of these actors in (Not to mention that Harry Collett dated baby Alicent in that too, but let's forget that hahaha). And I wasn't aware that I was seeing baby Harry Gilby either in casualty, but there he is! He danced with a boy shortly after that cap, it was adorable.

First Ship:

Ohhhhhhh this is going back some time! I suppose let's stay on the same vein as Josh Hutcherson lmao. So it wasn't exactly shipping, but the first time I ever wanted two characters to be together was Jess and Leslie in Bridge to Terabithia. But again, I was 12, so it was more like "I want these two to grow old and live happily ever after." And then the movie shredded my heart out. RUDE.

No pressure tags: @grinningkatz @lancedoncrimsonwings @book-and-music-lover @errruvande @waterfallsilverberrywrites @bilbotargaryen @persephones-journey @whitedarkmoonflower

@paula-in-dreamland @kingslionheart @fabiochampioraro @ripmyfictionalfriends

@corktheauthor @redacted-thething @thelettersfromnoone @beginning-writer @lord-aldhelm @lesbians4connorrhodes

I went to the beach today and my mom bought me this:

You can really hear the sea in this, I thought it was incredible. And I bought the tree because I thought it was pretty, it's made of amethyst.

I fucking love tumblr

I got better. I'm gonna post a new chapter? No. I'm going to do more random scenarios with a head-canon that's not mine.

So found out i was not really sick, i was passing through emotional fever. Which is when you are not physically sick, but when you receive some horrible stimulus - like fear; sadness; anger; anxiety; etc. - excessively, and your brain gets sick. What affects your body and makes you feel symptoms such as fever, headache and etc. I stayed like that for about three days and now i'm better. What am i gonna do? More scenarios whit Tova's head-canon.

Galahad’s pov.

Galahad always knew who his father was, the horrible weeping monk, his mother made sure of making that clear to him, even if he didn't really know why. When he heard that his father was a horrible man, he thought it was because he was an ugly person. It was far from his head about the things his father did.

He didn't know about the atrocities his father committed until two springs ago, when he asked his mother and grandfather to let him spend some time at his house, and his mother went completely crazy. She started saying how bad the idea was and tried to persuade him to stay with her, when she saw that it wasn't working she threw everything she could. Mom was desperate, she seemed possessed by something, and began to scream in tears that he was a horrible man who killed and tortured his own kind and that Galahad should not go to his house, or he would suffer until he left there.

He got terrified and ran to his room to escape his overprotective mother's tears. He couldn't believe it, he thought the horrible man his father was was just because he didn't look good, not that.

Now, two springs later, he was brought into the fey resistance when he lost from his mother, and was living with his father; a boy the same age as him, but much more energetic and who wouldn't shut up, he liked him, the name his was Squirrel, but his father called him Percival when he did something wrong; And another man, older than his father, he is dark-skinned, and with a bit of fat under his big muscles. Galahad thinks he swears excessively and drinks too much, but he is very nice and admirable. His name is Gawain, he is the hero fey, the green knight. But the only green thing about him is his eyes.

It has been three lunar cycles since they all began living under the same roof, and Galahad had taken note of a few things. Squirrel has a very light hand, so I have to keep my things well; Gawain is gluttonous and shows a lot of physical affection towards my father, but they are not lovers; And my father is nothing like i believed.

His father wasn't an ugly man, in fact really pretty, and he looked much more like him than with his mother. He had few tear marks, but Galahad didn't have any either, so it didn't matter much. His hair was still auburn, so he probably wasn't even in his thirties, which meant he became a father at a very young age. His real name was Lancelot, which in their fey mother-language meant “To Protect/Serve” or “Earth’s fire.”

Lancelot did not deny that he committed horrible things against his own kind that he would never forgive himself or expect to be forgiven. Gawain kept saying that if the gods forgive him, he should forgive himself, but that doesn't mean much into Ash culture. The gods are not always right, they make mistakes, like we do.

He learned many things about his father, and things he likes to do with him. Very often people question whether his father is really his father, he doesn't know the conditions under which he was conceived, but he’s sure he is Lancelot's son. They have the same blue eyes, the same golden streaks among the red in their hair, except that his father's hair is darker due to age, the same body type, the same smile. The only things he inherited from his mother were his facial shape and skin tone. But other people didn't know that, so their dialogue most of the time went like this:

“Who’s your parents?” Someone asks

“My father’s Lancelot.” I respond, and the confusion rises in their faces

“... Like… in the weeping monk?” 

“Former weeping monk.” I promptly defend. That wasn't my father's title, so I don't see why people should insist on using it.

“Are you-”

“Yes.”

“But you two-”

“We’re gonna look more alike when I grow.”

“You have-”

“I’m gonna get my marks when my first rituals are done.”

“...”

“Stop questioning it. He is my father.”

“... okay. Sorry.”

They were always the same questions. They didn't even need to go beyond two words for me to know what they were going to say. Sometimes I even joked that no, he wasn't my father and I was just a child that he kidnapped and started taking care of, and then denied it. But it didn't matter what anyone else thought or said, Lancelot is my father. And he had a feeling he was starting to really like it.

His mother didn't have time to braid his hair every night before bed, he didn’t balme her, she was a single mom. His father on the other hand. Today he did a simple braid, the kind that didn't squeeze his head, his hair was always curly in the morning. He might not be the best dad, but he was trying. And now he has a brother! He was noisy, but still, he loved him. He loved his new family in every detail. Well, maybe not the murderous part, but that’s aside.

Ashfolk red-heads are my love now. So sorry, but i'll keep stelling this very often. @lancedoncrimsonwings

✨Last line Tag✨

Thank you for the tag, @lancedoncrimsonwings! And I'm too lazy to tag anyone so if for some reason you're reading this and want to participate, feel free to do so.

Share the last sentence of your last wip. I'm going to put two because I don't want to and I can't decide. Also, all the two povs are Lancelot, the Weeping Monk. (My beloved)

"Come on, tell me you hate me." The son of a bitch speaks against his ear as he touches him. The monk presses his hand to his neck so hard that he leaves crescent moons marks of his nails on the knight's wrist.

This one is not the last sentence, but is my favourite and i wanted to share It. It's from a completely new one shot that I made in two dawns because I was feeling horny after two glasses of wine. The one shot is called "I still hate you" btw and i think this is pretty straightforward. (Ok i'll stop yapping now)

He would beg god like a dog if he didn't feel so rejected and cursed by him right now.

Yes, that one hurt me and this time it is the last sentence of the first chapter after the... I lost count edition.