Hear Me Out Wheel! C: If You Don’t Know Who Someone Is Just Look Em Up And Vote Based On Vibes

No Longer You waltzing animatic, this wasn't supposed to be a serious thing but oh well

Can we talk about how Lancelot's marks glow when he is near fire in the first episode?

So, i was rewatching Cursed on the netflix for the god know how many time, and i just tought like: "Oh i should try to pay a bit more of attention to the details this time, after all i'm writing a fanfic, this would help me a lot in the criative process." But then my eyes catch in the very first scene of the Weeping monk and i just notice his tear marks glow bright red when he is in the woods burning, killing the moon wings.

My mind absolutely stoped when i saw that. Cause what do you mean Lancelot's, marks glow and i never noticed that? What kind of incredibly effective and devilish wicked spell is that? Or perhaps that was just my ADHD working again... Anyways, i am just absolutely obsessed whit this.

OK, SO WHAT IF LANCELOT'S MARKS COULD GLOW WHIT MORE THAN JUST FIRE?

Any incredibly unlucky person who has the pleasure of knowing me know that i am absolutely hiperfocused in the Arthurian legends, but i still don't know how to deepens this hiperfixation since i didn't born in one of those countries where the Arthurian legends are part of their folklore. But one specific thing about Lancelot got in my mind, that is the fact that he cries a lot, but also doesn't know how to express himself properly, and then i just got this idea when i saw the marks glowing: "What if i could make this glowing marks thing a way of him expressing emotions since he is bad whit words and facial expressions?"

And that's exactly what am i going to do.

From now on, i have this headcanon that Lancelot's marks glow when he feels too strong emotions or feelings. For example: If he is too embarassed, along whit his blushing cheeks, his marks will glow slight pink too. And if he is too sad, his marks will glow in deep wine-color.

But what if i could go even further?

Hear me out in this one. The idea of Lancelots marks glow whit strong feeling and emotions is cool, right? But what if it went further?

I don't know how to explain, (actually i do but that's just cause i like how it sounds) but how about the idea of the Ashfolk having inner marks?

This might sound like a crazy idea or one of those you just have at 03:06 AM while is surviving on only coffee and refuses to sleep. BUT IT SOUNDS SO COOL IN MY MIND. Like, they have tear marks that possibly glow in the fire, but what if they also had inner marks in their lungs and heart that also can glow whit overwhelming feelings?

And that could also give and opening for a possible fire power, cause if they marks glow inside their bodys and react to the fire, who said they cannot actually procreate fire, more especificly fey fire?

I am probably going to be more obcene than i expected but, can you only imagine if Lancelot were having sex whit someone (i'd say Gawain but if you're a Nimulot shipper that fits too) and he is just so overwhelmed whit the pleasure and wonderful new sensations that his heart and lungs glow in pleasure while he archs his back and moan like a fucking wh0re gripping the bed sheets as if for his dear life? well i can, and it's absolutely marving.

And finally, conclusion.

My point is, i didn't notice it the first time i watched, but this is just a too good oportunity for head canons and roamtic fanfics promps to just let it pass.

My head canon is made, and is not just about him but the hole ashfolk. They have marks inside their bodies, in the lugs and heart, and the obvious ones in the face. And the marks glow whit strong or overwhelming feelings/emotions, or when they are near/surrounded by fire.

And just for the sake of it, the last part on the "What if i could go even further" topic was just cause i saw a reblogged post by @lancedoncrimsonwings of a suggestion of a fic called "Came a lot" of the weeping monk by @baezen, and i just tought it whoul fit in very well.

Hunted kisses for you❤️

ScreenRant

Cursed: What Happened Next To Nimue In The Book

Nimue's story didn't end with Cursed season 1.

Well... It's 2024 and still no news about the book sequel...

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?

so sad that lancelot was trapped in the medieval times because i think he would really like industrial metal

Okay, I have four, actually three tag games to answer today, and I'm going to answer all three. I love tag games and tag me in whatever you want. (unless it's spam about Gaza. I get these every day and that's why I closed my ask box.)

It will take some time, but I will always awnser those. Kisses!

First of all, thanks for the tag!

So, i decided that, yes, i'm going to do the reformatory an definitive arc in my fanfic. So consider this a small peak in what i'm trying to do.

The faces the ashman saw were not unfamiliar to him. From inside his own cell, he could see several souls that he previously knew, but that were now nothing more than bodies cursed with life. Lancelot was tied from head to toe with chains created specially and specifically tailored to his measurements. The piece of metal that wrapped around his neck and was attached to the walls was measured, tight enough to contain him but not tight enough to kill him. His wrists were tied to the floor along with his ankles, chained with the more resistant and thickest metal they had. Their goal was to pin him to the ground, make him vulnerable and less possibility to resist or escape. The poor man felt like a caged fighting dog. In the cell in front of his was a person not yet so disfigured, a face he could still describe as one of the fey paladins he grew up with. Nyx. A star-dust folk, considered to be from the same family as moonwings, coming from the Americas. He looked at him with those big starry eyes as if Lancelot were an abused puppy… Maybe he looked like one now. The boy had beautiful long hair as dark as the night, big eyes with stars and excessively pale skin, his hands and feet were painted like constellations in the sky. He was beautiful, but there was something missing in his appearance. Two days ago, Nyx was dragged out of the cell and taken to a different place upstairs, we thought it was just another dosing session to keep him in line. We couldn't be more wrong.

Within a few minutes we all heard the agonizing sound of Nyx's scream. He didn't went to be dosed, they took him to have the remaining base of his wings ripped off. Without any kind of thing to ease the pain of poor stardust. We heard the agonizing screams and cries for help for hours, every time he begged them to stop and they just wouldn't... He smelled it. The smell of blood, of despair, of the almost death of his childhood friend. And he couldn't do anything. Those who were still allowed to be out, the complete freaks who could no longer be called themselves, like lady Arachne, helped the poor fey as much as they could. The cleanest bandages they had, water, anything that could help him sleep. Nyx was the one who was tortured and almost killed, but he looked at Lancelot as if he were a living corpse, even if the one who had been on the verge of death wasn't him... He would give his life for his if necessary, even if his life wasn't. meant nothing. Devil’s nightmare was messing not only with their head, but with the soul of both of them and everyone there. Since no one would come to his rescue, Lancelot was sure that in a short time he would be a freak like the others...

@lancedoncrimsonwings

Next: @rabbit-flaying

WIP LateDay

Idk what day it is anymore but I know it isn't Wednesday whoops.

Danke @holy3cake for the tag

No Pressure tagging @aintgonnatakethis @beginning-writer + OPEN TAG FOR ALL to share a WIP, snippet or idea

Here, have another random snippet for Horizons that I wrote last night at 1:30am. No idea if I'll even include this but for now, enjoy!

Gawain's POV;

Night had long since come when Gawain found himself sat by the fire, watching Lancelot. The man's eyes were open and stairing sightlessly into the boughs above him, sometimes screwing shut whilst he bared his teeth into a snarl. Small movements of his body and the occasional gasp and choked moan betrayed how much he was suffering, clearly utterly unable to rest for the pain.

It had been several hours of this, and Gawain had had enough. He knew Lancelot would never ask for aid, yet he also knew that in this state, the man couldn't stop Gawain helping him either.

Grey eyes dulled from exhaustion followed his movement as Gawain got to his feet and circled round the fire to Lancelot's side.

"I must go and gather some herbs. Theres a willow tree by the river, the bark is good for pain," Gawain explained quickly. "I shan't be long, alright?"

"Are you well?" Lancelot croaked, eying Gawain up and down as if searching for an injury.

"Aye, I--"Gawain began, then chuckled to himself when he saw Lancelot crane his neck towards Squirrel then wince at the movement.

"--the boy is fine, Ashman. You're suffering, let me help you."

Predictably, then came the most unconvincing "I'm fine" Gawain had ever heard in his entire life. Lancelot now looked worse than ever, skin pale against his markings, sweat and blood glinting in the firelight, shaking knuckles clenching around bloodstained fabric.

I've seen dead men that looked healthier than he.

"Uh-huh. Aye, and I'm the King of Mercia" Gawain scoffed, shaking his head at the blatant lie.

"Whatever you say, my Liege…" Lancelot replied immediately, an odd tone to his voice that was only punctuated by the breathy way in which the pain caused him to speak.

Gawain scoffed again, but it was effort to stop himself from laughing. A small part of him he darent give voice to liked the way he'd purred the words a little too much…

"I will be off, now. I told you so you'd know where I had gone." Gawain said. He tried to halt his mind's traitorous musings.

"If you needed… time alone, you only had to… ask"

Gawain was certain he had imagined the wink, that there was no way Lancelot was teasing him like this. Surely not. Gawain managed to hold it together enough to raise an eyebrow in reply, shaking his head, about to come up with what would have been a truly witty retort when Lancelot spoke up again;

"Don't forget to… polish your crown, while you're out there."

And at that Gawain's brain damn near short circuited. There was no mistaking the meaning in his tone, the slight smirk, though ruined only slightly by a pained grimace and half gasp of pain. Did Lancelot truly mean the innuendo in the words, had he really meant to flirt?

"Only if you help." Gawain thought back, eyes widening when he heard a snicker then a groan.

Arawn's cock. Had he… Had he said that aloud?

"Your wish is my command, Sire." Lancelot whispered, almost too quiet to hear. Gawain shook his head, sure now that he must be dreaming. Yes, he must have fallen asleep, or he must be in dire need of it and hearing things.

Or if the Ashman truly was flirting with him, then Lancelot was worse off than he'd imagined and clearly delirious from pain.

Either way. Willow Bark and Feverfew. Yes. They were good things to focus on.

That, and decidedly not the idea of Lancelot…polishing his crown with those too-pale lips of his, made warm and plump by…

Willow-bark and Feverfew, Willow and Feverfew, WillowandFeverfewWillowand--

Gawain repeated the list in his head like a mantra, not once turning to look back as he turned on his heel and swiftly made his way down the hill onto the moors.

LMAO You're right It did made me laugh!

Squirrel is especially forbidden from having knives or any blades around. As well as Alcohol. That damn child sure do his name.

This is giving Squirrel Gawain and Lancelot vibes.

Gawain; What have you got there?

Squirrel, having stolen one of Lancelot's five-million-and-three knives; A KNIFE!

Gawain and Lancelot, simultaneously; --NO!

This is not my video, credit to razzimatazzi on TikTok, I absolutely do not have TikTok, my partner sent me this

Tagging @beginning-writer 'cause I think this will make you laugh

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.