Unfortunately This Is A Rant Because I Don't Have Anyone To Turn To When This Happens.

me, incorrect: everyone is probably sick of me drawing this character by now...

my inner voice, wise: ah, but this cannot be... because I am part of "everyone"... and until I am sick of drawing them... it will not be everyone

me, opening a new blank canvas: ur so right

Haven't postes something in a while, so here's a picture of my beloved dog that i would fight god and hell for:

Her name is Kaya, she's eight alredy, and i love ver more than i love myself. And yes, she sleeps with her mouth open, which I find cute and prettiely silly.

*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

Sneak Peak! and no i'm not explaining this post

The Reformatory.

“That place is not just a reformatory, knight. They're gonna break his head.” The lady with honey eyes says. Her once happy eyes now fell into a sad and worried glass.

Gawain is confused by the stern words. "...What?" He asks in a state of confusion and disbelief. Gawain knew that the paladins were cruel and that they valued empty heads and blind pawns, but he didn't want to believe that they would have the courage to break that alredy broken blade that the weeping monk was and force him together again and the gods know how many more times.

“You heard me.” The woman says with a firm word. Her eyes finally returning to meet his. “We call that place the devil's nightmare house for a reason. It’s not difficult to connect two dots, knight.”

The devil's nightmare house...? Gawain feels his face grow cold and the color drain from his features with realization. A shiver passes through his body just for thinking about what led to a place having to name like that.

“He's not going to come back, Gawain.” The lady afirms again with a firm voice, her face now completely darkened. “And if he comes back, it won’t be him anymore."

The woman sighs, her eyes returning to the floor and they were now a red glass, trying hard not to cry. The knight couldn't even begin to understand the relationship between the lady and the monk, but they certainly had something. No one holds back their tears so much for someone they don not care about.

She forces a unamused smile, trying to ease the tension. “Think he'll only comes back if some crazy person dares to invade Devil's Nightmare and bring him back.” She jokes, getting up to leave. The nameless lady says goodbye and leaves the knight to his thoughts alone at night again.

…Maybe I am crazy enough.

@lancedoncrimsonwings

That fic idea that won't leave me alone.

just had an idea for a weeping monk kinktober fic called came a lot. if u need me i'm edging the weeping monk

Hear me out wheel! C: If you don’t know who someone is just look em up and vote based on vibes

Please, ladies, gentlemen and chaos alive (non binary), take your weapons and chose your victim. The victim must be specifically Julius Caesar or Donald Trump.

With the ides of march fast approaching we must be prepared

Please reblog to make sure everyone is equipped!

This is Gawain and Lancelot and no you cannot convince me the contrary.

Disarming a knight