I've Offically Come Full Circle A Decade Later Since I'm Back Hyperfixating On The Arthurian Legend Distracting

So i was feeling strangely horny this days and i did what any normal person would do. Called on my boyfriend? No. I wrote a completely new one shot of Gawain and Lancelot having sex without much lore instead of finishing the fic I'm writing.

One of them is a virgin.

And.

It's not.

Gawain.

kay was 0.02 seconds away from calling gawain a slur here and I think that’s just beautiful

How extra am I?

Well I got bored at work so I decided to use a UK map to plot out locations from Cursed based off what little of their maps we do see so I could do reasonable travel distances and scenery etc...

(I then found a whole host of continuity errors in terms of distance and their maps are wildly inaccurate as per the time period BUT what I've done at least works for the most part)

Here Dewdenn is likely at the base of the River Severn, so a touch North of where I placed it, because I decided Yvoire Abbey needed to be right by the river (since Nimue boated out) and Hawksbridge should be at a port, yet the journey needs to be feasible in a day, whilst Gramaire and the Encampments needed a forest, open plains, and to be near enough to Hawksbridge and Dewdenn as travel between would take no more than 1-2 days)

(Red line at the bottom of that pic = 20 miles)

Sooo Dewdenn is now a little further South 20 miles from Gramaire and Yvoire Abbey, and Hawksbridge is 15 miles or so from Yvoire Abbey (wanted it to be closer but alas)

The Minotaur Mountains are now the Pennines, as it's the only ridge of mountains across the center that really works, and Nemos is in the base of the Pennines in Sherwood Forest, whilst Moycraig- the last farm supplying Nemos- is 5ish miles outside Sherwood Forest.

Beggar's Coast was definitely filmed on the south coast, and makes sense for a nickname for the English Channel, so I chose the closest viable point for the battlesite at the end of Cursed/King Uther's ships. It would have taken at least 2 days to get there from Gramaire, but both the book and series are loose on how long it actually took, soooo this will have to do.

Since the Paladins were "from the south", needed easy access to the English Channel to be able to travel to Rome (Likely via France), and Dorset was featured so heavily on their map, I've chosen that as their "main" base, though I plan to add Red Paladin Encampments, Human towns and cities and Fey Villages throughout.

Now to add their journey by Chapter because I am a fucking ass who can't visualise and needs to be able to see it to make sense of it!

If you read all this, you're a legend- or very bored. Or both. (Probably both after this)

Horizons to Battlegrounds

(Chapter 1) (Masterlist)

I didn't even see who reblogged this i just immediately reblogged too

this blog hates donald trump

Look how many people hate him. I’m pretty damn happy about that 😁😁😁😁😁😁

More baby dragon cause, why can't this get out of my head when i alredy wrote it?!?!

Lancelot had been holding the little dragon on his lap for a few hours. The little animal made himself comfortable in his extra warm lap and he didn't have the heart to take him away. In the first few minutes, after the little creature invaded the tent, scaring everyone and making itself comfortable in his lap, Merlin tried to take the dragon off Lancelot's lap and received a hiss in response. And then Nimue did the same, and Morgana the widow of death herself tried, they called Gawain to try, everyone received a fierce hiss and a sharpening of the body that guaranteed the little thing wasn't going off of him anytime soon.

“Why?-” Gawain begins, but before the word is finished. “Don’t you understand that it is not going to leave his lap?” Yeva, who only leaves her space on rare or dangerous occasions, interrupts him. Surprising everyone and making them look at her. She speaks in a stern tone, perhaps a little rude if you listened properly, still giving away her advanced age.

“I didn’t expect younger ones to understand this, but an old man like you, with hundreds of years old, Merlin, should already know.” The elder moonwing enters the place, seeing the little dragon on Lancelot's lap, she approaches. The dragon looks at her with his big curious eyes, still defensive, and Lancelot looks at her as he would look at anyone other than Squirrel , with a neutral and bitterly serious face.

Yeva lifts her eyes from the dragon to look at Lancelot, her one good eye looking into Lancelot's blue eyes and the black marks that painted his face and under eyes. They seemed lighter now, an indication that he was happy, or at least lighter than usual. She hadn't visited Ashman in his entire stay here, despite being curious about him or how he came to end up in these lands.

She quickly understood what happened. The little dragon lost its mother, or lost from its mother. The bodies of these creatures are usually overly warm, and for their young, cozy. Exactly what the baby found in the Ashman, who also had a higher body temperature than that of any human or fey due to the fire coursing through his veins. The animal thought that Lancelot was its mother and the man didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care.

“You’re the mother.” Yeva said simply.

"I know." Lancelot responds, turning his eyes to the adorable little creature that was biting his finger, trying to show affection.

Nobody in the room understood anything. Except the two of them, and maybe Merlin. “What’s the name?” A thinner, more energetic voice asked out of nowhere. Squirrel had sneaked into the room and startled some with his sudden speech. Lancelot's expression changes when he sees Squirrel, from neutral to slightly affectionate, his face lighter and his marks becoming clearer with the sweet affection that everyone knew he had for the boy.

“NightPearl.” He responds, and the dragon looks at Lancelot, as if recognizing that he has received a name. Squirrel smiles and comes closer, despite Nimue trying to stop him from doing so. This time, the dragon doesn't hiss, it just turns its little head, analyzing its new brother.

Lancelot looks at Yeva for a moment, and they know they'll need to have a talk after everyone goes to sleep and they're alone. Which seems scary when she seems even crazier than him. But nothing that made him want to say no. The dragon still tries to bite his hand, squirming in his lap and making Lancelot smile.

“You’re smiling!” Squirrel points out, his face lit up seeing Lancelot smiling in ‘public’ for the first time and a big smile on his face.

“Yes, I am.”

@lancedoncrimsonwings that was your fault for influencing me with, uh... cute reptiles! That. You infected me with a love for reptiles, it's your fault that Lancelot and dragons can't get out of my head.

They're so gay and sad. I loved It❤️

Hug, beauty and blood

Ok so "hug" is from Chapter 2 cause I struggled to find better than a bulletpoint in my WIPs with it in but yess I love these thank you!

Hug;

The boy hesitantly moved closer, then before Lancelot could say anything else, Squirrel hugged him. Lancelot bit down on a pained yelp, the embrace sending another incredibly sharp surge of torment through his side that made sweat bead up again on his brow, his vision swum and it took more than he cared to admit to stop himself from whimpering. He almost forgot to feel shocked the agony was so intense.

Beauty;

Lancelot's breath was coming in gasps. Gawain realised he too was panting, and he glanced out for just a moment to see they were towards the edge of the dance, but closer to the Bard, who eyed them both with those silver-blue eyes as he continued to sing;

"Where you see weakness, I see wit, Sometimes I fall to pieces, Just to see what bits of me don't fit,"

The piercing stare was too much, too invasive, Gawain turned quickly back to Lancelot. He drunk in the beauty before him.

"... And when I stand, oh, those folks will run, And tell their tales of what I've become..."

And by the Gods, Lancelot was truly beautiful. A man, a Fey, a gentle soul with a tender heart and a battle hardened warrior all at once. His colour swirling skin shone slick with sweat, supple muscles rippling as he moved and swayed with the enticing grace of a deadly predator, jaw tensed, chest heaving ragged breaths.

Blood;

Blood dripped steadily from Lancelot's fingertips. Oozing slowly from the carving upon his left shoulder, it traced rivers of crimson down his arm before collecting between the iron shackle and his skin. So severe were the iron burns, and so close was the metal to his sore, abraised skin that the blood now pooled up and over the outside of the cuff like an overflowing dam. It offered his burned wrist a modicum of relief. Scarlet glistened in the low light as it invariably flowed down down down, following the swell of his knuckles and the length of his fingers to splash into a coagulating puddle on the floor, steadily staining the cold ashen stone into a dirty red.

Reblog if you write fan fiction

Doesn’t matter if you write in a frequent basis, or once in a blue moon, just how many of us are there?

Excuse me- WHAT?! can someone explain me this, please

Remember when Gawain saved the Sun from a demon?

it's official, i don't how to start a chapter anymore. Like, why is writing so difficult? Why can't my ideas and thoughts just write themselves on my computer? WHY DO I HAVE TO WRITE THEM?!?! THEY WERE THE ONES WHO APPERED WITHOUT ASKING! Ugh