Tar Stool 36 Weeks Pregnant

style, as they say here - or perhaps I should call layout? Background? Graphics? In short, I sent the hairdresser LJ and this is the result. Something vaguely ridiculous, but I liked it.
XD I know that there is no audience, at best a visitor every blue moon, but to anyone walking here, I hope you are well!


Among other things, I would add a couple of drabbles that I had posted only on IT100 , but I want to take care care here. \u0026lt;3

Fandom: Arthurian Legends (very general)
Title: And leaving me home
Challenge: Harmony
Rating: PG
Word Count: 110 (W)
Characters: Mordred
Pairing: Galahad / Mordred
Warnings: Slash .


is the right thing.
Needless to say, is for the world.
It's because, for each of them, there is already a well-marked path and stand next to each other was going to upset each floor, shaking the foundations. This is immensely something greater than themselves, more relevant and more just and more miserable.
is the famous supreme end. You find the old road.
You restore the balance: one for the glory, the other on terror, both at the slaughterhouse .
Galahad to recreate the ancient myth, he who degenerate the new one.
Mordred tries to convince, while looking at the only certainty of a life away in the back of a horse and feel the chaos inside scatenarglisi.





Fandom: Arthurian Legends (very general)
Title: Kids These Days
Challenge: squeak
Rating: PG
Word Count: 200 (W)
Characters: Mordred, Galahad
Pairing: Galahad / Mordred
Warnings: Slash .


The floorboards creak and croak under way naive out there, beyond the door of his room. Inside, he reads with a small light, settled on an old chair, shook his clothes just sent puffs from the window above.
voices everywhere on the malign demon who is shaking in his body, but the rest of his kingdom, and the quiet solitude creates the space and the time of his days. Yet that clicking sound of bare feet on the wood is still nervous, to attract her attention with brutal innocence.
The floor creaks and moans again, and maybe the legs white in the hallway, eager, exchange each other that support the weight of the body, taking turns in small hops that even a deaf person would hear as they clash of arms, in the silent darkness of late evening.
"I know you're there."
A sentence, a sentence, shame on the red little face behind the door, and then a sigh and closing.
"Next. Log . "
an obligation or a free choice, this does not clarify it to him.

But when she smiles, driven with a light touch, his door opens and squeaks - she now?! - And he enters. An innocent child as capricious.
... Galahad. "






We must say that I feel satisfied. Oh, are not that great, but I love to write anyway.
In this regard, I hope soon to receive confirmation from 24h . I would love to try my hand too ... \u0026lt;3
We hope for good!