#avalon weeping

[turnips-creates]

Last Line Tag [1/2]

Tagged by @legiomiam! Thanks for putting up with how slow I am at getting to these :)

tagging -> @saphoblin @pinespittinink @sentfromwolves @faelanvance @bebewrites @tananaphone

From Avalon Weeping, my 2022 Nano Project:

The earthquake – to an extent – was to be expected. Powerful magic alters the physical realm after all, and a ritual such as this… Well, we got lucky the earthquake was the only disaster to happen that day. But that didn’t account for being alone again - being whole for lack of a better term.

[alkalinefrog]

The Lights of Avalon

Chapter 8 - The Boy with Glowing Blue Eyes

Chief of the Nine Sisters of Avalon, Ruler of the Underworld, the one who parts the veil between worlds. Demi-goddess and faery woman. The Necromancer. The Great Sorceress: Morgan Le Fay. Chills ran all the way to Jack’s core, adrenaline shooting through his system. The hair on the back of his neck rose up—from static or fear, he couldn’t tell. Was Avalon listening this time? Had he insulted them so badly that she decided to appear in person? Good.

This chapter's a little under 14k words 😭

Special thanks to @santathegrey for beta-ing this time around, and @jjackfrost and @twiafom for streaming Minecraft playthroughs together against my better judgement!

AND HOLY SHIT CHECK OUT THE AMAZING FANART THIS FIC HAS GOTTEN!!! @the-bubbles-tm did a gorgeous painting of Jack and Hiccup on the Lake (and made a spotify playlist for the fic that is SO GOOD), AND designed the boys’ costumes based on the currently released chapters!! And @bignostalgias drew this BEAUTIFUL Nimue, AND just posted these amazing sketches based on scenes from Chapter 7!! (I’m still crying over Astrid freaking out about her crush on Tooth in the last comic laskjdflksadjf)

I’m so so grateful for your guys’ beautiful work!! 😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

Link's in the title, or you can click over here!

HAVE FUN!!

[ruinlost]

>Been thinking the last day or so about how farrow is a protector,or rather how one of his main functions is to protect considering he used to be a knight-and how he's already failed about twice now (one being unable to save the people ha cared for in khaenri'ah,the other being curio) even though it's not his fault or he did what he could -- but now he has something to protect again and even if he doesnt remember events before he'll do his best to protect

[sycamoretrees]

i'm still thinking about this

AEW Dynamite 6.18.2021

[alkalinefrog]

HANNAH. I AM HONOURED. FLOORED. BESOTTED. TOOTH IS SO PRETTY. BUNNY AS HUGH JACKMAN. SANDY'S POOFY SLEEVES AND PANTS!!! Your art is GORGEOUS as always, and seeing the troupe together in your style is just AAGGGHHH I'M HIT. ARROW THROUGH THE HEART. It's a Christmas miracle, and the Nimue concept oh my GODDD.

On the floor crying into my carpet, I'm so glad you're enjoying the fic and I'm so stoked for you to read the story as it comes out!! Thank you thank you thank you for these WAAAHHHH 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Mending my sins and finally catching up with lights of Avalon!!!1!! @alkalinefrog

I swear kai your characterization of everyone is so perfect and charming UGH it’s like falling in love with them all over again

Huge special shoutout to @bignostalgias for being the bulk of the inspo for their designs! Hic, jack, jame, and em designs are next <3

[caliburn]

On her letterbox she'll find a decorative little white lion and a little silver bell hair ornament on the side of a small box of chocolates- " merry Christmas! ✨️ may it be bright and stuff -eiden"

What adorable decorations! Setting the box of chocolate upon her lap, the girl wiggled her fingers within the band, allowing for a proper examination of the lion and bell on either side, bringing a bright smile to shine. He was such a busy person, yet his kindness had extended toward her as a small part of his holiday celebrations — how could she not feel honoured? With the other hand, Lily tugged gently at the black ribbon until it loosened, quick to catch her hair before it could flutter loose, and that removed a step of placing the white and silver piece in its place, threading gold through until the grip was secure, but not too tight.

A kick of her feet kept her conscious of the box so not to drop it upon jumping up from the armchair, and so with the care of a fragile construct did she lay it upon the coffee table, leaving her free to rise without incident. As she examined the sight in the nearest mirror, it became apparent that she’d not quite thought it through, and plucked her phone in order to align it so the front-facing camera tracing the decoration would reflect off the surface in front. seeing how perfectly the lion was settled and the seasonal bell glittered brought brighter the pink dusting of her cheeks, smile inching all the wider. “It really is! I hope Eiden’s having the time of his life right now too”.

[sororalice]

On The Blessedness Of Reaching Out To The Dead

A homily for Samhain on October 31, 2024.

Dearly Beloved,

A very blessed Samhain to those in the Northern Hemisphere and a very blessed Beltane to those in the Southern Hemisphere! I pray that all of you are blessed and comforted as the Wheel Of The Year continues to turn!

In my home, we are honoring our dead, our Beloved Ancestors, Mighty Dead, and Blessed Saints. As we move towards the dark of the year, we take this moment to reach out to all of those who have come before us, those dead to whom we owe our honor, respect, and love.

I often meet this time of year with mixed feelings, because while I wish to celebrate our dead, I am also reminded of my own feelings of sadness and loss. Death has brought too many missed opportunities for me, too many lost moments, and too many people cut down far too young. So I weep a little bit, even as I celebrate the holiday. But this is only to be expected…it is natural to feel sad about those whom we have lost. It is natural to mourn. But it is also natural to cherish our lost and to celebrate and honor those who have come before us. Thus I am moved on this high holiday to speak of those honored ones, those beloved ones, those who have journeyed off to what some traditions call the Isle Of Apples, mystic Avalon, Hades, or simply the Underworld.

So let Charon sound His dread horn and let us speak of reaching out to the dead.

Magick, throughout its history, has had an intimate relationship with the dead. Some of the most famous mages of ancient myth, such as the famed Witch Of Endor spoken of in the “First Book Of Samuel”, worked with spirits of the dead, and the Greek poet Homer, whose epic poems were considered divinely inspired by many ancient Greeks, includes an act of necromancy in Book 11 of “The Odyssey”. Clearly, the magick of working with the dead is ancient.

But many times when modern pagans are working with the spirits of the dead, we lack the pragmatism of those ancient necromancers. As is implied by the name, necromancy is the art of divination by means of communication with the spirits of the dead, and while Samhain is definitely a fine time for divination, I know that when I take my journey into that in-between place that lets us communicate with the dead, I am not trying to divine anything. Instead, I merely want to spend time with my beloveds. I call my father, my grandparents, and even my fallen cats. I sit with them in the candlelight of my temple, as the smoke of the incense drifts between our world and the worlds beyond. Sometimes we talk. More often we are silent and simply keep each other company in the dark. Sometimes that’s all love needs, especially among family.

But there is another sort of spirit I also wish to discuss and honor here. Over the last couple of weeks the Mighty Dead and Blessed Saints, those mages and mystics who have died and live on as mighty spirits who may become our allies in the Work, have been making their presence known to me. Jake Stratton-Kent, one of the mages most responsible for the recent revivification of the Grimoire Tradition, has come up in conversation by “chance” no less than six times with six different individuals over the period of four days at the time of this writing. Jerry Cornelius, the leader of an important lineage of the A.’.A.’., has come up just as frequently. Copper Persephone, an important teacher and priestess in the Reclaiming Tradition, has also come up again and again. And of course, for me there is always my father, Anthony “Dragon” Spurlock, witch, artist, and musician, who casts a long shadow over my life. These Mighty Dead are always with us, but in this moment, this special moment where our worlds are as close as they ever get, they are especially with us, reaching out to us, ready to hold our hands and guide us forward as we step forward into the darkest time of the year.

So let us reach out to these spirits in those shadowy places between the worlds, for what happens between the worlds affects all the worlds. Let us go to them or call them to us. Let us tell funny stories around the fire or cry ourselves to sleep in remembrance, as our hearts guide us. Let us sing their names in joy as we celebrate them and whisper their names in sorrow as we mourn them. Let us hold them all in our hearts on this, their special day. Let us lift them up in song and honor them in memory.

Let us reach out to the dead.

Happy Samhain.

In love,

Soror Alice

Art: Odilon Redon, “Apparition”, (~1910)

[nothankyoudear]

For a man who can't die, Merlin aches like he's been killed a million times.

He aches in the mornings when he glances through the window and sees gold beam onto the floor, and thinks of Arthur's hair in the sunlight. He aches in the afternoons when he hears the laughter of children, and thinks of children of Camelot running past him in frenzied joy. He aches in the nights when he is sitting on his armchair and staring into the distance as he realizes that, just like yesterday, he is once again all alone.

Because fate is a cruel thing, and he is destined to wait out an eternity. He pines for several lifetimes for bright blue eyes, and aches with every night he sleeps.

So when Arthur steps out of Lake Avalon on one December day, with his gold hair sticking to his forehead and his body shivering, Merlin can't help but run and cry and ache even harder because oh dear lord for once in his life fate is benevolent, and it has given Arthur back to him.

It takes Arthur a few years before he truly settles. The fact doesn't surprise Merlin, as although Arthur can learn about technological innovations and strange new things such as the Internet, Arthur can never have back Camelot.

Arthur has lost his destiny, and he weeps. Merlin simply holds Arthur and lets his shoulder gets damp, for he had also once lost his own destiny, and had no one to cry into the shoulder of.

Arthur's hair is always messy and his eyes are sunken, but it doesn't bother Merlin one bit. For the past thousand years, holding a warm body and smoothing back golden hair were things he only had in dreams. He treasures every bath he runs for Arthur, and savours every breath he watches Arthur take.

And soon enough, the light slowly returns to Arthur's eyes. Every insult he throws at Merlin is retorted with a playful smirk, and they're still the same Merlin and Arthur that they were back in Arthur's chambers.

Arthur smiles again for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, and Merlin thinks he is the sun.

Arthur kisses him one December day. His lips are cold and his hands are shaking like he had just stepped out of Lake Avalon, and Merlin can't help but cry as he kisses back.

The kiss burns Merlin, and he cries tears that he thought he lost a thousand years ago. He cries and cries and cries, but as Arthur kisses his tears off his cheeks, he has never been so happy.

Because now Merlin wakes with golden hair tickling his neck and sleeps with a warm body next to his. He hears the laughter of children in the afternoons and looks back at Arthur, wondering if they'll have children of their own some day. He sits on armchairs with Arthur's legs tangled in his, and stares at Arthur's lips as he sleeps.

And for the first time in a long time, the man who can't die stops aching.

[alkalinefrog]

HOW DARE YOU, SHE LOOKS SO BADASS AND GOOD UUUGGHGHGHHGHG I can't believe you've done this, I'm creating a nest out of your tloa art and burrowing in it forever BAWWWW <3 <3 <3 <3

more colored-pencil-at-work-doodles of full platemail Astrid, definitely not tloa inspired,,,,,,not at all,,,,

[dorianwolfforest]

cause I’m listening to My Tears Are Becoming A Sea by M83 and I’m imagining one of those scenes where a character dies and at first they’re so sad to go but then they see their loved ones on the other side and they feel happy and welcomed

And I’m thinking ah. That’s what Elizabeth is going to be for all the druids. Rhiannon, The soul riders, her own sisterhood, Avalon and Evergray. Her mentor. Her friends. Everyone will see her and feel comforted in knowing that even here, they will be loved.

But then I think. When Elizabeth dies, who reaches out their hand and says “there you are, I’ve been waiting for you.” She wouldn’t want to see her family. The woman she named herself after is alive. Her friends breathe still. Everyone she loves is alive thanks to her sacrifice. So when she looks at Alex and hesitates to go into that unknown beyond, who beckons her?

Or does she, fire in her eyes and stubborn as the day she boarded that ship, go alone. One final time, leaving everything behind to see what’s at the end of the road. Does she cry, and scream, and rage against her god as she walks, not once faltering or taking a step back. Knowing she must simply weep and endure it, so that next time the journey will not be so difficult for someone else.

[velvetwarfare]

I ain’t even gonna limit one 💖 per person so y’all just gonna hear me gush about my mutuals in one post

💖 - @vehxmence first off Zulu gives 0 fucks and is so unbothered by drama I WANT TO BE THAT. If you’re looking for someone w no sugar coating and a frying pan to the face w blunt honesty, it’s Zulu. And god am I SO grateful for that. Vibes are immaculate too, art is immaculate. Mwah. She got me through a rough patch and I’m eternally in debt honestly I love her sm…..write w me.

💖 - @skxrbrand I know I’m fucking awful and fell off the warhammer boat but I still love seeing Jax’s posts in my dash tbh I will never tire of the shenanigans w Skar. Jax taught me how to get by on Tumblr and took part in a BIG portion of Betty’s backstory w Heliinx and Skaven shit in general. Like, without Jax, Betty wouldn’t have been this interesting and this entirely mad BFGVXBDV thank you for traumatizing her it’s for great character development LMAOOO

💖 - @moonlightsdew Zero get over here so I can love on you. Art? Mwah. Writing? Mwah. Vibes? MWAH. I adore writing with you so much I just RRRRR every time you reply I fucking LAUNCH myself at my phone like YES MORE DRAMA MORE ANGST MORE FLUFF MORE ENTIRELY FUCKED UP PLOTS. That new AU you created? Amazing. I’m hooked. Ily.

💖 - @mothvalentino ughhhhHHHH YOUR VAAAAAAL. I already went off about your portrayal but I’m doing it again honestly LMAO thank you for letting me express Betty’s backstory and not running away because it’s a LOT to unpack but I’ve been thoroughly enjoying our threads 🖤 I also love the backstory you’ve given Val too, it’s interesting to see their similarities and differences and how what was once an entirely uncared for business deal became unlikely friendship in the end. that’s the GOOD SHIT I’m so excited to explore more of them

💖 - @hclluvahctel you deal w my jumble of ramblings and random ideas and I fuck w that so hard because you don’t tell me to shut up and seem to actually enjoy them so thank you GFHDBDGF I love the Candle and Adam interactions, I love little Avalon sm, I love that it was you that inspired her fallen verse to begin with weeps your icons are also v aesthetically pleasing to look at

💖 - @infernal-feminae fucking BETTY AND ROSIE MAN. PAIN. LOVE AND PAIN. LOVE HOW IT GOES FROM PURE ANGST TO THEM CONSTANTLY SMACKING EACH OTHER’S ASSES. LOVE THE CHAOTIC LESBIAN DYNAMIC. I also love your Carmilla sm that dancing event was so cute and I genuinely love seeing you on my dash good shit good food

💖 - @heliacalxrising your lucifer gives me life hello the emotional description and vulnerability has me wanting to squeeze him and protect him like a little flower……what a baby boy. I feel many things reading your writing which is a splendid thing because I admire writers who portray emotion well enough to where I can feel the character’s emotion myself and it’s always this warm soft feeling u give me

💖 - @doublejango bro I’ve only known you for two days and I’d die for both you and blitzo. you are so sweet and the excitement is contagious, thank you for being excited w me to write and with only two replies in I was like oh yeah. oh yeah, this is both hilarious and going to go places. it’s gonna be one of those movies where it’s all funny and crack shit at first then WHAM BAM ALAKAZAM TRAGEDY AND CRUSHING TRAUMA BONDING and I am fucking HERE for it. let’s GO

[turnips-creates]

Find the Word [x3]

[Part 1/3]

Challenger #1: @awritingcaitlin {love ya!}

My words were -> image, sigh, summon, form, smile

Tagging -> @legiomiam [uno reverse #1!], @sentfromwolves, @saphoblin, @wellofhavoc, @faelanvance, and @diseonfire

All y'all's words are: knife, music, leaf, pirate, picture

My responses under the cut!

1)

{image}

Kal Nyr Sarai wakes to a hangover and a freezing woman. The woman’s lips brush the pulse point at the base of Kal’s throat, and the Imperial Officer shivers at the icy touch. The two women are flush together, from sternum to knees, legs tangled languidly in sleep, and Kal can feel the ache from the festivities tugging the memories of the night before into place. Piece by piece, images of the dark-haired woman in her dress – silver as moonlight and lighter than a gryphon’s feather – dancing, laughing, moaning, enraptured in the revelry of the spring festival.

2)

{sigh}

The sigh leaving their lips brushes over my neck, leaving goose bumps in its wake, as Cynth drops their head on my shoulder in resignation. “Fuck it,” they mumble, going lax in my hold. I tug the band from their hair, letting the dark locks fall to their shoulders, and begin carding my fingers through.

3)

{summon}

The fire bites at the lining of my organs and edges of my bones. They minimized the amount of oxygen in the room, but it seems they're forgotten about a little trick of mine: Hellfire Metal restraints drop to the floor with a couple dull thunks, dripping with molten blanotvium where it came in contact with my skin – where the summoned flames flicker just below the thin barrier. Swinging my legs over the bedside, I go to stand and have to catch myself before my legs give out.

4)

{form}

With a soft hum, tendrils of my magic wrap us in a warm blanket of good memories. I don’t have many – especially without Her – but I have enough, just enough, to power this small spell. Thankfully, bird boy relaxes, the tension cracking across his body until it slides from his form all at once. Finch’s weight is easy to take – he’s light and lean and not nearly as heavy as most of the parts at the yard.

5)

{smile}

“Oh? Has someone finally remembered something?” My small smile grows into a sneer, splitting my face until I can see the reflections of my canines in his eyes. By the flinch, I can take a guess at what I look like in that moment – Finch had told me about the way my eyes glow uranium green with high emotions, how I have a habit of abandoning the human mask I so carefully crafted.

[alkalinefrog]

bestie I have a question!

Will. You ever finish The Lights of Avalon? I'm literally sooooo invested now I can't wait for you to post more chapters (I don't wanna rush you of course, I just love the story soooo much! I love your story writing AND your art so much!

I PLAN TO!! Irl stuff's been keeping me busy lately is all! It was working on TLOA that actually sidetracked me from TLOA because I got really into Arthurian lore and started playing in the sandbox and coming up with some original projects! My heart's still very much attached to the fic for that reason, and I want to take the time to smooth out the bumps in my outline before returning to it (I reread it recently and the writing's so clunky weeps)

Thank you so much for reading it and sending me such a sweet ask!! Just know that the wait's for the best because oh god....the old writing.....help.....

[arcticlutra]

"Task Force X is beyond your purview Mister Ambassador." Waller spat with powerless indignance. The man before her had many strings to his bow and legality was never a concern of his.

"Oh, Ms. Waller, there is nothing within the purview of the American Government or Corporate Military Complex that is beyond my scope, interest, or reach." Luthor calmly explained. He even pretended to inspect non-existent dirt beneath his nails that never had been there. Yet it mattered more to him than the pathetic protestations of this yapping dog.

"This prisoner is dangerous and in possession of sensitive information that could threaten the country." Waller barked.

Luthor smiled, "Precisely. Which is why, and with presidential and military approval, I am hereby relieving this prisoner from your jurisdiction. Apparently, your...competence has been in question since the Avalon incident?"

Waller snarled in impotent anger. She was in checkmate, and she knew it.

"Fine." She snarled. "But when he slices your throat, don't cry to me."

Luthor's eyes danced with amusement. Money could literally buy anything. The dirty blond boy looked ragged even in the scraps of finery that had been left to him. The gold plated talons that adorned his hands in elegant finery almost seemed tarnished from the abuse it had suffered under Waller. His shirt and waistcoat had been torn, and his green eyes looked haunted and unfocused.

"Waller called you Castellan, correct?" Luthor asked.

The bedraggled figure nodded weakly.

"That is a title and not a real name. Tell me, what should I call a true member of the Court of Owls?" Luthor asked.

Tired and abused vocal chords tried to force hoarse words from a long ignored throat. He'd been merely a stage hand for Waller and she had been keen to remind him of that.

"Buh" his throat attempted.

"Yes? It's okay son, you can do this. " Luthor encouraged as he wrapped his hands around the Castellan's armoured ones.

"Buh-nah" the Castellan attempted.

"You're doing so well." Luthor encouraged.

"Ber...nard." the disused voice of the Castellan managed, before sobs of a long suffering boy consumed him.

Lex gathered the small boy into his arms and hushed him, trying to console the weeping figure. Unlike Waller, he could see the potential and talent. He wouldn't waste Bernard Dowd. He'd make him into the heir that Kon-El should have been.

[bottleblondefeelingconned]

I left this as a reply but I'm also making a separate post to expand because have Feelings, and I really just love fanart of Merlin holding Artoria's corpse.

Because it's not just about a vassal holding their king, or a wizard their charge, or anything about kings and knighthood and ideals.

The bottom line is that this is a father cradling his daughter's corpse.

A daughter who willingly went to the slaughterhouse. A lamb willingly tearing away her flesh for the nation to feast on. A daughter he both could've saved but also never could because the tragedy is Merlin's Merlin and Artoria's Artoria. Because anything else could have changed the story, but this is the only way the story ever could have gone.

And now she's dead, and he has to live with that.

Merlin always knew that this girl would sacrifice herself to be an Ideal, to be a King, because saber is a Saber and that's just what they do. But can you imagine cuddling your little girl at night knowing what awaits her? Teaching her to swing a sword knowing she'll use those skills to slay her own child?

How many times did Merlin see Artoria nap under a tree and just felt Dread? When she first met Bedivere was Merlin secretly desperate for them to go their seperate ways? Did Merlin take Lancelot to taverns hoping he'd meet another beauty to catch his eyes, trying to prevent something that could never be prevented? When he met Mordred, did he ever think of his as a grandchild?

In Apocrypha when Mordred saw his father grab that sword, Merlin covered his face. When Artoria took that sword from the stone to chase her ideals, when Artoria stopped being Artoria and became King Arthur, what expression did Merlin have then?

A wizard preserves their King for the future return from Avalon. A father is hunched over his daughter's bloody corpse weeping.

"Let me tell you of the tale of the King," the ancient wizard says. It sounds better then "my child died."

I guess both Artoria and Merlin know what it's like to be complicit in the death of their child.

[tinkertechy]

A Dirge

Do you not hear, Traveller, the weeping?

It is the cries of the Storytellers,

for their children have been deprived of their Heroes.

Samson's head is shorn, his mane turned to baleful fodder,

While Deborah is paraded in the city streets.

Odysseus' ship is given to the Sirens,

While Circe holds court in the ruins of Greece.

King Aurthur Sleeps in Avalon, The silver gates rusted shut,

And Merlin is reduced to haggard cloaks and mindless blabber.

Meek Cinderella has been chained in her cellar,

While her sisters parade about in her glorious gown.

Desperaux is caged, and run of the palace is given to Rats.

The Knight's Sword is rusted with misuse, and the Maiden's gown stained with impropriety.

Snow White is Given a Broadsword instead of a Broom,

and told that she must save herself.

Dorthy is given the Heart, the Brain, the Courage,

But bereft of the kindness she needs to get home.

Bunyan's Axe and Ox are ripped from his hands,

And the Whirwhind of Pecos Bill is unceremoniously tamed.

Stately rivers of quiet majesty have been turned to lifeless stone,

and towering oaks of shade and splendor reduced to stumps, if not cinders and soot.

These titans, these glorious pillars of heroism, bravery, gentleness, kindness, and love above all else;

A sledge has been taken to their foundations, by hands determined that,

if they cannot themselves reach those glorious heights,

then all will be leveled to meet them, instead.

Under the mallets the virtues become weaknesses, and flaws, Death Knells.

'Why would you look up to someone so bad?'

they ask.

'Your heroes are nothing, their stories are ash.'

And

What

Will the storytellers

Do

About

That?