a creature

21+ | whatever pronouns you think of (i'm whatever you want me to be baby 🫦) | writing for the first time since I was a kid so be kind or I'll cry

[sunnyday-db]

I'm sorry, but with the recent events of AI scraping, some of my works might be restricted for registered users only (which means you will need an account on ao3 to read them).

Here you can find my finished or abandoned works:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyday_db

Tags for this blog:

#my works | self-explanatory

#to never be | drafts, wips, snippets, or drabbles that might or might not one day be finished

#nonsense | random shitposts my brain conjures up

[sunnyday-db]

Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 4, 5 and 6 of campaign 4

How to reanimate my bones with no belief

"Do you need help with your saddle?" Thaisha croaks, voice cracking as if she was the one without a breath. It's a sentence she often said in their many travels but this time, something is different. He is different. Occtis turns back towards his horse and notices the mount still unmade. Being caught like this would have usually caused his brows to furrow, but his nerves don't do that anymore. Not on their own. No muscle in his body moves unless he wills it to. And for those he can't or forgets to just... exist. The only reaction his companion witness is his impassible face, staring at a miserable looking saddle.

Occtis is still figuring out how to un-live in a corpse, while his companions (and familiar) remind him what it means to be alive.

Aka: Occtis gets the comfort he needs in a very self-indulgent fic as Thaisha is the mother he never had and Valeus teaches him how to remember.

Words count: 2188

Posted on ao3

How to reanimate my bones with no belief

[sunnyday-db]

I was trying really hard to write a second chapter with Julien that was comfy and cozy and not at least a little flirty, then Mr Matt Mercer just had to be like "I like to see him squirm" and I mean... Fine! I'll do it! Second chapter finally coming in the next few weeks I guess.

[sunnyday-db]

It is done. I even managed to make it comfy and cozy.

[sunnyday-db]

Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 4, 5 and 6 of campaign 4

How to reanimate my bones with no belief

"Do you need help with your saddle?" Thaisha croaks, voice cracking as if she was the one without a breath. It's a sentence she often said in their many travels but this time, something is different. He is different. Occtis turns back towards his horse and notices the mount still unmade. Being caught like this would have usually caused his brows to furrow, but his nerves don't do that anymore. Not on their own. No muscle in his body moves unless he wills it to. And for those he can't or forgets to just... exist. The only reaction his companion witness is his impassible face, staring at a miserable looking saddle.

Occtis is still figuring out how to un-live in a corpse, while his companions (and familiar) remind him what it means to be alive.

Aka: Occtis gets the comfort he needs in a very self-indulgent fic as Thaisha is the mother he never had and Valeus teaches him how to remember.

Words count: 2188

Posted on ao3

How to reanimate my bones with no belief

[sunnyday-db]

I was trying really hard to write a second chapter with Julien that was comfy and cozy and not at least a little flirty, then Mr Matt Mercer just had to be like "I like to see him squirm" and I mean... Fine! I'll do it! Second chapter finally coming in the next few weeks I guess.

[sunnyday-db]

Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 4, 5 and 6 of campaign 4

How to reanimate my bones with no belief

"Do you need help with your saddle?" Thaisha croaks, voice cracking as if she was the one without a breath. It's a sentence she often said in their many travels but this time, something is different. He is different. Occtis turns back towards his horse and notices the mount still unmade. Being caught like this would have usually caused his brows to furrow, but his nerves don't do that anymore. Not on their own. No muscle in his body moves unless he wills it to. And for those he can't or forgets to just... exist. The only reaction his companion witness is his impassible face, staring at a miserable looking saddle.

Occtis is still figuring out how to un-live in a corpse, while his companions (and familiar) remind him what it means to be alive.

Aka: Occtis gets the comfort he needs in a very self-indulgent fic as Thaisha is the mother he never had and Valeus teaches him how to remember.

Words count: 2460

Posted on ao3

How to reanimate my bones with no belief

[sunnyday-db]

Things I had to search for a silly critical role fanfic:

terms for experimenting with a corpse writer help reddit

how long does it take for a body to start decaying

how does an organ decompose

writing help organs decomposing

...yeah

[sunnyday-db]

Currently writing a bg3 fic. I'm not going to post it until all the chapters are written, but this part was just too funny not to share.

A hand appears to be talking. "A hand, anyone?" it says. Tav knows he's old enough to understand what that means, but an inexplicable urge tells him to do something very childish. Of course, there's no way it comes from himself. It has to be the mysterious presence in his head. It has been helpful until now so he finds no reason not to follow it, or gods know what the consequences could be. He simply must. He ignores both Shadowheart stare and the deep sigh that resounds inside his brain, and gleefully slaps the hand, feeling a happiness like never before. "Perhaps I should have clarified, a helping hand, anyone?" The poor soul now begs. "Well now you made it sound even more tempting." Tav whispers, then finally relents and helps stabilize the teleportation spell.

[sunnyday-db]

WIP

(that I won't finish anytime soon, but that I have plans for)

This is a snippet / fanfic set in the amazingly written interactive fiction inspired by Arthurian legends, The Bastard of Camelot by Llamagirl.

(the story has not reached this point yet, so it might be completely ooc or not follow the future plot at all)

Mordred, now a knight, was indirectly the cause of an attempt at Arthur’s life, or at least that's what he thinks. While he is decidedly not having a good time, he stumbles upon Guineverre.

Content Warnings: suicidal thoughts, kind of?

Words count: 269 nice

"I'm scared, Guineverre. My birth already destroyed Arthur’s life. What's to say the rest of the prophecy isn't real? That I won't bring chaos and destruction? What else could undoing mean if not Arthur’s end?" Mordred started mumbling, mostly talking to himself.

"Mordred, you should breath-"

"I couldn’t live with myself if I ended up hurting him. Maybe I am meant to die."

This time, with eyes still hazy, he turned to look at her, as if finally seeing her for the first time.

"You care about him. You’re the only one I can trust to do something about it. Please. I cannot trust my mo-"

Mordred almost bit his tongue, stopping himself from saying that simple word that once felt so comforting, but now brought only a disgusting taste in his mouth.

"...Morgana… to do the right thing. She would rather burn the whole world. And I’m not strong enough to ask something so terrible of Arthur. It would break both our hearts. I gave him enough heartache as it is, so please…"

Even Mordred couldn’t voice what he was pleading for. Maybe because he didn’t fully know, or maybe because he was too scared to spell it out loud.

Guineverre, with tears in her eyes, delicately cupped his face with both her hands, afraid he would break at the slightest touch.

"Mordred, it is true I deeply care for Arthur and his safety, but after all these years, how could you think me so heartless that hearing you speak like this would not hurt me too?”

Notes: I really am indulging my angsty self here. I won't develop it more until we'll actually see Mordred being a knight. So here it goes in the "to never be" list.

[sunnyday-db]

I promised myself to never be vocal in this blog since I fear confrontation (woops), but it's just so disheartening seeing how many authors rightfully complain of people stealing their work and/or using AI for writing, but simultaneously seem to be perfectly fine with generating AI images to promote their interactive fiction or support and share any that do that. The concept is the same. It's still stealing others works. I understand the convenience and the joy from something that feels like a shiny toy, but YOU ARE A WRITER. You have the power to describe with your words anything that doesn't exist and portray any emotion you want the reader to feel with it. I promise you, you don't need it. You have all you need already to create something beautiful and meaningful. And if you really want some visuals, stock images exist. There are multiple free programs to edit those if you need something slightly more specific. The readers you want to keep are not going to stray away simply from a generic banner. Most Ifs I adore quite literally simply have the title in a free font.

If you use it for inspiration, CHECK ACTUAL PEOPLE'S WORKS. You are going to earn and learn much more from them. And you can actually thanks the person that's inspiring you! How great is that.

If you want to make your OCs, picrew is a GREAT alternative other than games with a character creator like the sims, baldur's gate, skyrim, most dragon age games, and many more. Just look into any rpg and find one you like. Some online ones are even free.

[sunnyday-db]

To Lose Himself in Guilt

This is a fanfic set in the amazingly written interactive fiction inspired by Arthurian legends, The Bastard of Camelot by Llamagirl.

Summary:

"I simply do not understand." Mordred finally spoke. "If there's anything more you wish to know, I can try to the best of my abilit-" "No, no. Not about the...about what she did. It's you. How can you bear to even be close to me?" He whispered, unsure of his own words and newly unshed tears.

It's been a day since that awful night. Mordred remains unresponsive to anyone's pleas. He feels sick, disgusted with himself and his mother’s actions, and for all the years spent in anger for his absent father.

How could he believe it wasn’t his fault? What could he possibly do to lessen his guilt?

Aka: Arthur and Mordred have a much needed conversation.

Content Warnings: vague suicidal thoughts, dissociation, as in the original work, “the protagonist is a child of incest, and the story deals with the topics of incest, rape and abuse”.

Words count: 1600

This is my first fic, I'm actually terrified posting this help

Mordred was somehow able to put on a smile throughout the day, entertaining all those unaware of his still troubled heart. There were a few days left before all the guests would start leaving the castle. 

He was trapped in a bubble, his mind floating while everything moved despite his presence, too enwrapped in a fog of his own making to notice the worrisome looks the few who knew his revolting secret were giving him. Thankfully, among those, his Mother got the clever idea of making herself scarce at this time and kept her distance.

After everything expected of him was done, he reached his bed just in time for his body to completely shut down, shielded by the disguised safety of his room. He closed his eyes and tried to quiet his mind, resting. Striving to do anything more would have felt like an insurmountable task.

He was so tired, his muscles aching and his eyes still stinging from the tears of the previous night while numbness was slowly claiming his mind.

He didn’t react to the sound of the door opening, nor the soft and careful footsteps. Poor Gareth’s heart clenched when he saw him in that state.

"Hey there". He attempted to say, not expecting a reply. "Should I ask how you’re doing?"

"I’m tired, Gareth, and having to talk with all those people didn’t exactly help." Mordred snapped. "How many revelations am I going to have to hear before I'll finally have an ounce of control in my life? Maybe I never will."

After those last almost whispered words, it took only a second for him to remember who he was talking to and regret his harsh tone.

"Right…I’m sorry. Thanks to me, you had your fair share of…excitement." He said sardonically, mocking himself more than anyone else. "I probably shouldn’t have laid down on you all that this morning."

"Don’t apologize. If it wasn’t for you, I doubt I would have ever known about it in the first place. It’s…a lot to process. But you shouldn’t worry about me now, should you?"

Truthfully, Gareth wasn’t doing too well himself. His mother's past action was still fresh in his mind. He, too, was in need of a distraction.

"I could call Gawain to play more board games if you’d like. You seem brighter when he’s around…I do wonder why?" He remarked in a conspiratorial tone, trying to hide a half smirk.

With a faint redness in his cheeks, Mordred decided to ignore his brother's inquiry and mumbled, squishing his face into a pillow. "As much as I would like that, I doubt I would be much company in my current state."

"I’m sure he would appreciate simply being here, but I won’t force you. I understand you’re tired, but maybe going outside for a bit might help. I’ll wait for you in the gardens if you change your mind. We won’t be disturbed at this time of the day."

Having said so, Gareth departed, revealing for a split second an orange hue, the sun timidly peaking from the window across the corridor.

When the door closed once more, Mordred, abandoned in the dark, suddenly missed having someone around. Those few seconds of silence were enough to drown the lightness in his heart Gareth was able to bring.

He decided to leave for the gardens.

Gareth warmly welcomed him as soon as he caught sight of him, noticeably relieved. They sat to play a card game, sitting on a bench close to a big fountain, lulled by the sound of flowing water.

They stayed that way for around an hour, just in time for the sun to completely vanish, leaving in its place the quietness of the evening. Just then, Gareth spotted Arthur staring clumsily, half hidden by a column.

While Arthur was finding the courage to move from his hiding place, Gareth, glancing back and forth, settled it would have been best to let them talk. He probably was the person who could understand Mordred's pain the most. He had a miserable frown anytime he thought he wasn't looking.

"Mordred, I think there's someone who wants to see you. I'll leave you to it, but you're more than welcome in my room if it gets too much." And with a last cheerless smile, he left in that same direction.

Mordred stood up about to question him, until he laid eyes on an Arthur who appeared, at this point, a bit more confident.

He took slow, gentle steps, stopping anytime he perceived even the smallest movement or reaction on Mordred's side while observing him with a soft gaze as if afraid he would run away.

Mordred himself felt like a scared wild animal, ready to jump from the danger but frozen with the expectation and need of closure.

"Hi," Arthur uttered, his voice cracking at the last letter before scratching his throat. "Would you mind sharing this view with me?" He said this time a bit more fluently.

A silly excuse, but Mordred, careful to avoid his gaze, shook his head nonetheless, unable to vocalize a single word and too overwhelmed with guilt and the nauseating sickness in his stomach.

Arthur moved closer to the fountain and stopped right at its edge, the water reflecting the light from the torches slowly being lit up. Mordred followed suit and sat on the slightly uncomfortably wet border.

"Mordred I-, I know I don't deserve to, but I'm worried about you." This time, he turned to fully look at his face, Mordred's intentions clear for the first time that day, too tired to pretend anymore. He was looking at the ripples in the fountain with a wistful look, almost as if wishing that same water could drown him. It was an expression he recognised as his own after what was probably the worst time in his life.

"I simply do not understand." Mordred finally spoke.

"If there's anything more you wish to know, I can try to the best of my abilit-"

"No, no. Not about the...about what she did. It's you. How can you bear to even be close to me?" He whispered, unsure of his own words and newly unshed tears.

"Oh no. Please, Mordred, it is not your burden to carry." Arthur begged, this time crouching in an attempt to be closer, stopping himself from cradling his scrunched face that looked so hurt and lost but still refused to turn.

"But, I hurt you. Maybe not directly but I still did."

"No Mordred, it's-." He took a big breath before continuing. "I have no right to ask this of you, but please, listen to me very carefully." 

Mordred finally turned to look at him, and saw Arthur speaking with a resolution in his eyes that he had never seen before, one that seemed to be missing even when he played the role of the King, when he buckled under the heavy weight of the crown.

"I’ll say it as many times as it takes for you to remember, I care about you. I spent too many years trying to convince myself otherwise. Blame me if you must, but do not own my mistake as if it were yours."

"As if it were yours", he said…those words spinning in Mordred's head. He realised both were blaming themselves for a choice that ultimately was made by his Moth-…Morgana. He didn't have it in him to call either of his parents by anything else but their given names at the moment.

Mordred couldn't hold that powerful stare for long. It held so much hurt and affection he didn't deserve but desperately wanted. Still, he tried, for his and Arthur's sake. He took a deep breath, tasting salty tears as he tried to speak. "I don't know if I can believe that. I can try. I'll need some time but I'll try."

After those words, Arthur couldn't hold himself anymore and tightly gripped his son in a hug, not caring of his own tears."That is all I ask."

They kept shushing and comforting each other for minutes that felt like hours until their tears ran dry for hopefully the last time that day.

While Arthur was absentmindedly patting Mordred's hair, who finally calmed down, he suddenly remembered a bittersweet memory.

"I’ve had plenty of similar conversations with Kay. I suppose it’s thanks to him if I didn’t immediately crumble when- well, you know." His voice struggled to keep itself together. "That is to say, if you need another to hear your troubles, he can be a surprisingly good listener. I would imagine you would see more of him now that you and Gawain seem to be…close." Arthur tried to be careful with his words, feeling like it was not his place to intrude, but he did little to hide his pleased smile.

Mordred squeaked, trying to hide his flushing face with his trembling hands. "By the Goddess, am I that obvious? How does everyone I talk to know?!"

"Gawain isn’t exactly subtle if you were trying to hide it". He chuckled.

They kept talking about everything and nothing, about mundane topics for once, a guise of normalcy in their tragic history. But once the moon rose brightly in the night sky, they knew it was time to bid farewell. They wished each other a goodnight, this time with both their hearts a little lighter, the stars shining in their eyes, and with the promise that they were going to be okay. At least for a moment in time.

Notes: Before this, I only ever helped in writing characters' backstories and random bits of dialogue, so this is uh…new. Everyone is probably OOC and I'm not sure that's how a 12 year old speaks. But I felt a NEED to write it if it makes sense? I could not keep the idea spinning in my head. Hopefully I managed to make the descriptions not sound too pretentious. Keep in mind this is pretty much my first piece of writing in general, not just fanfic so be kind xD.

Apparently people are using AI to write fics, so I feel like I have to say I haven't used any here. My shitty writing comes all from my little brain, thank you.

[sunnyday-db]

Posted on ao3

To Lose Himself in Guilt

[sunnyday-db]

Don't mind me, just thinking about The Dark Urge.

Is their violence all there is to them? Were they sweet once? Or was their life constantly covered in viscera and blood, as sick and viscous as their dreams?

[sunnyday-db]

I'm hiding this here with no tags (or sort of), but I still want to share because it's a bit funny. Here's how I was planning what to write in certain parts of the fic...

Something something about Arthur approaching Mordred as if he were a scared wild animal. Sitting on the edge of a fountain. Mordred looking at the ripples in a wistful look, almost as if wishing that same water could drown him.

Something about the stars shining in Arthur’s eyes and Mordred not being able to hold that powerful stare. It hurt too much, all that affection in his eyes so visible.

Something something about how he needs time, having lost the trust of the one he trusted the most, his mother. But he’ll try. For his and Arthur’s sake.

[sunnyday-db]

To Lose Himself in Guilt

This is a fanfic set in the amazingly written interactive fiction inspired by Arthurian legends, The Bastard of Camelot by Llamagirl.

Summary:

"I simply do not understand." Mordred finally spoke. "If there's anything more you wish to know, I can try to the best of my abilit-" "No, no. Not about the...about what she did. It's you. How can you bear to even be close to me?" He whispered, unsure of his own words and newly unshed tears.

It's been a day since that awful night. Mordred remains unresponsive to anyone's pleas. He feels sick, disgusted with himself and his mother’s actions, and for all the years spent in anger for his absent father.

How could he believe it wasn’t his fault? What could he possibly do to lessen his guilt?

Aka: Arthur and Mordred have a much needed conversation.

Content Warnings: vague suicidal thoughts, dissociation, as in the original work, “the protagonist is a child of incest, and the story deals with the topics of incest, rape and abuse”.

Words count: 1600

This is my first fic, I'm actually terrified posting this help

Mordred was somehow able to put on a smile throughout the day, entertaining all those unaware of his still troubled heart. There were a few days left before all the guests would start leaving the castle. 

He was trapped in a bubble, his mind floating while everything moved despite his presence, too enwrapped in a fog of his own making to notice the worrisome looks the few who knew his revolting secret were giving him. Thankfully, among those, his Mother got the clever idea of making herself scarce at this time and kept her distance.

After everything expected of him was done, he reached his bed just in time for his body to completely shut down, shielded by the disguised safety of his room. He closed his eyes and tried to quiet his mind, resting. Striving to do anything more would have felt like an insurmountable task.

He was so tired, his muscles aching and his eyes still stinging from the tears of the previous night while numbness was slowly claiming his mind.

He didn’t react to the sound of the door opening, nor the soft and careful footsteps. Poor Gareth’s heart clenched when he saw him in that state.

"Hey there". He attempted to say, not expecting a reply. "Should I ask how you’re doing?"

"I’m tired, Gareth, and having to talk with all those people didn’t exactly help." Mordred snapped. "How many revelations am I going to have to hear before I'll finally have an ounce of control in my life? Maybe I never will."

After those last almost whispered words, it took only a second for him to remember who he was talking to and regret his harsh tone.

"Right…I’m sorry. Thanks to me, you had your fair share of…excitement." He said sardonically, mocking himself more than anyone else. "I probably shouldn’t have laid down on you all that this morning."

"Don’t apologize. If it wasn’t for you, I doubt I would have ever known about it in the first place. It’s…a lot to process. But you shouldn’t worry about me now, should you?"

Truthfully, Gareth wasn’t doing too well himself. His mother's past action was still fresh in his mind. He, too, was in need of a distraction.

"I could call Gawain to play more board games if you’d like. You seem brighter when he’s around…I do wonder why?" He remarked in a conspiratorial tone, trying to hide a half smirk.

With a faint redness in his cheeks, Mordred decided to ignore his brother's inquiry and mumbled, squishing his face into a pillow. "As much as I would like that, I doubt I would be much company in my current state."

"I’m sure he would appreciate simply being here, but I won’t force you. I understand you’re tired, but maybe going outside for a bit might help. I’ll wait for you in the gardens if you change your mind. We won’t be disturbed at this time of the day."

Having said so, Gareth departed, revealing for a split second an orange hue, the sun timidly peaking from the window across the corridor.

When the door closed once more, Mordred, abandoned in the dark, suddenly missed having someone around. Those few seconds of silence were enough to drown the lightness in his heart Gareth was able to bring.

He decided to leave for the gardens.

Gareth warmly welcomed him as soon as he caught sight of him, noticeably relieved. They sat to play a card game, sitting on a bench close to a big fountain, lulled by the sound of flowing water.

They stayed that way for around an hour, just in time for the sun to completely vanish, leaving in its place the quietness of the evening. Just then, Gareth spotted Arthur staring clumsily, half hidden by a column.

While Arthur was finding the courage to move from his hiding place, Gareth, glancing back and forth, settled it would have been best to let them talk. He probably was the person who could understand Mordred's pain the most. He had a miserable frown anytime he thought he wasn't looking.

"Mordred, I think there's someone who wants to see you. I'll leave you to it, but you're more than welcome in my room if it gets too much." And with a last cheerless smile, he left in that same direction.

Mordred stood up about to question him, until he laid eyes on an Arthur who appeared, at this point, a bit more confident.

He took slow, gentle steps, stopping anytime he perceived even the smallest movement or reaction on Mordred's side while observing him with a soft gaze as if afraid he would run away.

Mordred himself felt like a scared wild animal, ready to jump from the danger but frozen with the expectation and need of closure.

"Hi," Arthur uttered, his voice cracking at the last letter before scratching his throat. "Would you mind sharing this view with me?" He said this time a bit more fluently.

A silly excuse, but Mordred, careful to avoid his gaze, shook his head nonetheless, unable to vocalize a single word and too overwhelmed with guilt and the nauseating sickness in his stomach.

Arthur moved closer to the fountain and stopped right at its edge, the water reflecting the light from the torches slowly being lit up. Mordred followed suit and sat on the slightly uncomfortably wet border.

"Mordred I-, I know I don't deserve to, but I'm worried about you." This time, he turned to fully look at his face, Mordred's intentions clear for the first time that day, too tired to pretend anymore. He was looking at the ripples in the fountain with a wistful look, almost as if wishing that same water could drown him. It was an expression he recognised as his own after what was probably the worst time in his life.

"I simply do not understand." Mordred finally spoke.

"If there's anything more you wish to know, I can try to the best of my abilit-"

"No, no. Not about the...about what she did. It's you. How can you bear to even be close to me?" He whispered, unsure of his own words and newly unshed tears.

"Oh no. Please, Mordred, it is not your burden to carry." Arthur begged, this time crouching in an attempt to be closer, stopping himself from cradling his scrunched face that looked so hurt and lost but still refused to turn.

"But, I hurt you. Maybe not directly but I still did."

"No Mordred, it's-." He took a big breath before continuing. "I have no right to ask this of you, but please, listen to me very carefully." 

Mordred finally turned to look at him, and saw Arthur speaking with a resolution in his eyes that he had never seen before, one that seemed to be missing even when he played the role of the King, when he buckled under the heavy weight of the crown.

"I’ll say it as many times as it takes for you to remember, I care about you. I spent too many years trying to convince myself otherwise. Blame me if you must, but do not own my mistake as if it were yours."

"As if it were yours", he said…those words spinning in Mordred's head. He realised both were blaming themselves for a choice that ultimately was made by his Moth-…Morgana. He didn't have it in him to call either of his parents by anything else but their given names at the moment.

Mordred couldn't hold that powerful stare for long. It held so much hurt and affection he didn't deserve but desperately wanted. Still, he tried, for his and Arthur's sake. He took a deep breath, tasting salty tears as he tried to speak. "I don't know if I can believe that. I can try. I'll need some time but I'll try."

After those words, Arthur couldn't hold himself anymore and tightly gripped his son in a hug, not caring of his own tears."That is all I ask."

They kept shushing and comforting each other for minutes that felt like hours until their tears ran dry for hopefully the last time that day.

While Arthur was absentmindedly patting Mordred's hair, who finally calmed down, he suddenly remembered a bittersweet memory.

"I’ve had plenty of similar conversations with Kay. I suppose it’s thanks to him if I didn’t immediately crumble when- well, you know." His voice struggled to keep itself together. "That is to say, if you need another to hear your troubles, he can be a surprisingly good listener. I would imagine you would see more of him now that you and Gawain seem to be…close." Arthur tried to be careful with his words, feeling like it was not his place to intrude, but he did little to hide his pleased smile.

Mordred squeaked, trying to hide his flushing face with his trembling hands. "By the Goddess, am I that obvious? How does everyone I talk to know?!"

"Gawain isn’t exactly subtle if you were trying to hide it". He chuckled.

They kept talking about everything and nothing, about mundane topics for once, a guise of normalcy in their tragic history. But once the moon rose brightly in the night sky, they knew it was time to bid farewell. They wished each other a goodnight, this time with both their hearts a little lighter, the stars shining in their eyes, and with the promise that they were going to be okay. At least for a moment in time.

Notes: Before this, I only ever helped in writing characters' backstories and random bits of dialogue, so this is uh…new. Everyone is probably OOC and I'm not sure that's how a 12 year old speaks. But I felt a NEED to write it if it makes sense? I could not keep the idea spinning in my head. Hopefully I managed to make the descriptions not sound too pretentious. Keep in mind this is pretty much my first piece of writing in general, not just fanfic so be kind xD.

Apparently people are using AI to write fics, so I feel like I have to say I haven't used any here. My shitty writing comes all from my little brain, thank you.

[sunnyday-db]

I was supposed to write a little snippet to post here but it's getting closer and closer to over 2000 words so now I'm wondering if it should just be on ao3 lol