#modern prayer

[arttapiamusicandwords]

[tilbageidanmark]

Saint Luigi

[boom-bada-boom]

in a dream i meet my dead friend

“He has, / I know, gone long and far, / and yet he is the same / for the dead are changeless. / They grow no older. / It is I who have changed, / grown strange to what I was.”

— A Meeting, Wendell Berry

when albion’s need is greatest, kilgharrah tells him. when albion’s need is greatest, freya tells him. when albion’s need is greatest, arthur will rise again.

when he first heard the words, he didn’t really understand them. arthur was dead, but he’d come back eventually— though how long was anyones guess. but for the moment, arthur was dead, the king was dead, and his kingdom deserved to know what happened.

he gives himself a day, the night and the dawn and the midday and the sunset, to remain in front of the lake, blood drying and crusting over on his hands and staining his clothes. he gives himself a day frozen keeling at the lake’s edge, before pushing himself to his feet and whispering, “i promise i’ll come back.” to the still still still waters.

it takes him a long time to fulfill that promise. by then, giaus is dead, percival is dead, leon is dead, and the only reason he ever returns to camelot at all is because of gwen, old now and confined to her bed, and because he needs to see the city, the castle, one last time; carve the picture into his memories. maybe carve a spell into the castle’s stone so it survives a while yet, while he runs away from his past.

he kneels once more before the shores of avalon, and the magic heavy over him like a thick winter coat slides off to reveal beneath it a face and body just the same as the one that had knelt there decades before.

“‘when albion’s need is greatest,’” he echoes across the years, and clutches at his own arms in a farce of a hug. there is a long pause, a long moment where the sun high above is hidden behind thick clouds, a long moment where the gentle breeze stills, a long moment where the sounds of the woodland at his back fades out. it passes.

“i want to see you, arthur.” merlin admits to the still waters. “i do. but i fear what threat we will be facing in the face of it.” he smiles, rueful, grieved, so tired already, at the sparkling reflections bouncing from the mirror-like work of nature and magic before him. “i’m— tired. of fighting. i think i’d just like to be with my friends. all of them.”

it’s not really directed to arthur, anymore, he doesn’t think. it’s more an observation of his own inner psyche, something he doesn’t oft do simply because he fears what he might find in the depths.

he knows he means it though, all of his friends. in his minds eye flashes the image of morgana, young, plagued with nightmares still, but brave and kind and righteous; the look of her smile, soft and loving, as she gazed upon gwen, a bundle of flowers in one hand and the other simply holding holding holding gwen’s own; the slight smirk as she looked down on arthur, play-threats and play-fights and all the camaraderie of siblings with none of the titles; the indulgent, caring look she bestowed upon him, in the long quiet moments where she thought him unaware.

all of them.

when the castle fell, merlin thought that this, maybe, was the moment arthur returned. he had not dared step foot in the city walls since gwen’s death, but he still always kept one ear out for news regarding it. his magic, embedded into the stones, strained and tried to protect the frame and those within it, but it could only do so much from the great chasm of distance between him and camelot. he was kneeling before the lake by the end of the day. he did not get up for a week, and then another, and by the time his body seemed liable to shake apart and was held together only by his own magic, and it was abundantly clear arthur would not be returning— by then, he just slammed his fists into the earth and screamed. screamed for a life and a future robbed from him, from arthur, from all his friends. screamed because while their life was robbed because it ended, his life was robbed because there was no end for him.

after that, time seemed to pass quicker, or maybe merlin cared less. camelot, its king and its knights and all the people it contained, was soon faded into myth and legend, a true story known only in the depths of his own mind, hidden behind the ancient old carved-in image of a castle now only ruins in life. history moved around him, through him, did not care for him.

he tried helping, at first. tried using magic to make things better, mostly by healing people. merlin learned soon enough though, and began to stop trying. after the next uncountable attempt at killing him for witchcraft, he stopped trying to help that way. not long after that, every other way too.

when the twenty-first century rolled around, merlin was tired most of all. tired and sad and worn and hopeless. arthur was not coming back, he realized. not if wars and plagues and massacres and destruction was not enough to raise him.

or maybe it is because these were all things merlin could have helped, could have possibly even prevented entirely if he could��ve brought himself to interfere. when albion’s need is greatest, but obviously there would be no need if merlin could fix the problem with a snap of his fingers.

for the nth time, he considered what that could mean. what could be the cause. what great, impossible threat was out there that even merlin couldn’t defeat, that even he could not prevent?

it had been over a thousand years, and he was tired and old and bitter. angry at his still-unfinished destiny and hateful of this immortal, unending life.

perhaps then that’s why he thinks, something merlin can’t defeat? well, he couldn’t very well defeat himself.

and perhaps that is where it starts.

when albion’s need is greatest, king arthur will rise again.

merlin decides he will bring about albion’s time of great need— anything to bring back arthur from his watery grave.

(he was so tired of living, tired of waiting. he just wanted his friend back, wanted to smile and call the king a prat and be looked at with the same fond admiration he’d always been given though never recognized during the moment.)

…

…

…

(below the waters of avalon, between life and death, king arthur pendragon, the once and future king, awakens from death with a gasp.)

(above those same waters, shadows walk the earth. shadows of albion, and of camelot, knights and magical creatures alike. all of them simply echoes given life by a magic more powerful than anything that has ever been or will ever be.)

the thing is, the lake of avalon had never just been the specific location. it is the veil between worlds, and thus the lake of avalon is everywhere where life and death meet.

so, as the world decends to chaos, and as merlin watches the lake shore like the bird he is named after, king arthur is thrust from the lake of avalon somewhere else entirely, far out of merlin’s reach. behind him, the knights of the round table, along with the queen guinevere and the lady morgana, rise just the same.

because, of course, nothing is ever quite simple.

merlin does not extend himself to learn of the whys and hows of the pockets of resistance against him. he does not want to know, just wants them crushed because then, maybe then, albion’s need will be greatest.

so, when a certain floundering group of someones begin carving a path of resistance towards the shadow castle built only from the image carved into merlin’s own head, he does not take note except to send more power to squash it.

(said group does not know much, truly. they do not know of the world they have found themselves in, though they always find people willing to help them in the unlikeliest of places. they do not know what the name of the great evil they face is, nor why it had come, only that they must stop it.)

(they do not know why the lady of the lake was crying, as she watched them stumble into life once more, nor why she handed them a rose, just a rose, still on the stem, and told them that it would lead them to their destiny.)

(it is not until she has disappeared that arthur thinks to ask, where is merlin?)

[blujayonthewing]

[divinecat]

Super possesive canon x canon shippers are so lame, like your fave have two hands and they're fictional. All free game baby 😏

[saltycryptid]

Ghost’s head has always been too wise, but his heart is nothing but fire and ashes.

A page featuring a scene from the fanfic solemn prayer, poppy in my hair by @congee4lunch! Specifically from the fifth chapter because the prose haunts me to no end, genuinely so beautiful.

[toxooz]

anyway the comic update should be next week (3pgs left) until then a ghillie König warm up scribble bc i finally caved and got the sloth pak and am Obsessed with how much more creepy he looks 😞👐

the pic that started it all:

[artsybridgerton]

Hello there! I read that you wanted to write a Benedict Bridgerton x reader so I want to request that for you :)

you can write anything but I wanted that they meet for pure case and that reader is a really cheerful, happy and clumsy person lol

idk if regency/modern, feel comfortable to choose!

thank you in anticipation and have a good day/night! 💟

Hi @shoyooss! Thank you for the request! So I tried my best but i think it came out a little cringy.

Could be the fact that i couldn't think of how a cheerful/happy person is, probably cause i've never been that myself but hey, i gave it a shot :D

I hope you like it even a little and i apologize for everything you will read on my blog :D

Thanks for trusting me tho <3

with love, Essy<3

p.s. the pigeon part is actually based on true events in yours truly's life :)

_______________________________________________

warnings: my mediocre writing lol

modern au

Pieces of paper

You’ve been looking for a job with no luck but recently you started working in this bar as a waitress, with no experience at all. You may or may not have lied on your resumé with having years of experience.

It was a busy morning and you were told to stay outside of the bar to welcome in the customers other than that you were also in charge of keeping the pigeons away from the people eating and the plates that were yet to be taken inside to be washed.

As you were fighting off the pigeons your coworker came to you.  “Hey, when you’re done with that, help this man with his order ok?”

“No problem!” You smiled at her as you quickly ran inside leaving the customers fend for themselves. “At Least they didn’t poop on me!” you thought to yourself.

Taking a tray you approached the counter to bring the order to the customer: a cappuccino, a glass of orange juice and avocado on toast. As you turned around to accidentally bump into a tall man spilling the customer’s coffee on him.

He yelped slightly. “Wow, that coffee was hot!”

“I am so sorry sir, I didn’t see you!” You reach for your rag wanting to try and clean the stain on his shirt but by doing so you accidentally let go of the tray you were holding with both hands making everything fall on his feet. 

“Great heavens!” you immediately crouch to clean up. “Sir I will personally hand wash your clothes if you let me, I'm deeply sorry!”

“It’s fine miss” He smiled and also crouched to help you clean. 

“Well you could always say it’s a fashion statement!” You say trying to make the situation less awkward. At that he chuckled a little. “Really sir, let me at least offer you some coffee, i mean it! The whole breakfast perhaps? Lunch? Is dinner more of your liking?”

“Well that escalated quickly, I might just assume you want to ask me out” He joked and slightly moved closer to you while you were looking down putting the food back on the tray.

“Wou-would you want me to?” Panic-flirting was an ability you developed recently but now you directly head-butted him when you looked back up to him so he lost his balance.

“Sir! I didn’t mean to do that! Would you like an ambulance?” You panicked.

You help him back up. Only now you got a good look at his face and thought he was actually very handsome.

He let out a laugh in confusion. “Miss, really everything is fine, don’t worry” He cleaned himself off. 

“I’m y/n, this is my number, i will gladly pay whatever damage i caused to your person sir” you say as you write down your contact on a piece of paper. 

“Benedict” He offered you his hand to shake. 

You shaked his hand, keeping eye contact, almost mesmerized by his eyes.

“Miss, I'm still waiting for my order!” The other customer yelled.

“Oh shit right!” You were woken up from the trance and went back to the counter to retake the order.

In the meantime, Benedict ordered a cup of tea and sat down to enjoy it.

Some time has passed and you were now cleaning up the tables.

As you passed near Benedict’s table he stopped you and handed you a piece of paper. “My number.” You look at him confused. “You still have to offer me a meal, dinner? was it?” He winked. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him as you accepted the paper.

[bobowizard]

[error-elf-206]

here are some old front costumings i forgot to post of my godhood au

idk if i like them all that much but they do show the ideas well. also left nico does haunt me as, just yeah

[arttapiamusicandwords]

[notthesomefather]

Prayer to Odin

[[written by a member of the Godsring and shared with permission]]

Wōden, World-Shaper, Wandering God!

We come before You this night and ask humbly for Your ear,

That You might hear us in our place of prayer and receive our thanks.

For Your never-ending quest for knowledge,

Inspires us, and makes us yearn to know more than we know,

To do more than we can do,

And to be more than we have ever been before.

We come before You this night and ask humbly for Your company,

That You might walk with us in the coming days and keep us on our way.

For Your ceaseless journey through the worlds,

Inspires us, and makes us yearn to see more than we see,

To go where we have yet to go,

And to be more than we have ever thought we could be.

Hail the Hanged God, who searches the void where He hung,

For those lost souls searching for secrets of their own,

And pulls them out, gasping, returned to the land of the living,

To keep learning, and wandering, and serving You.

Hail Wōden!

[knightofhylia]

The feet are the link Between earth and the body Begin there Begin there The lungs are the link Between body and air Between body and air The hands These uprooted feet Are the means Of our shaping and grasping Clasp them The eyes are the hands of the head Its feet are the ears Its feet are the ears

-Cosmo Sheldrake, The Feet are the Link

[texaschainsawmascara]

The Virgin in Prayer by Giovanni Battista Salvi da Sassoferrato, edit unidentified

[funeralprocessor]

God I wish my brain didn't shut down the moment I try to actually write down anything about my OCs/ideas/etc. I've got some freaks knocking around in here y'all would go wild for.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

me sitting down to write a diabolical and soul-crushing story vs nagi going “i no no wanna :’(” about every plot idea i have