caergwydion

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Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that in the world he loved best, that shall be Sir Gawaine.

handing your man the sword he will one day kill you with ~*just arthurian things*~

march to camelot prompt #5: love

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Sturgeon knight

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Eternal Battle

Artist: Pavel Pokidyshev

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Ophelia by Léopold Burthe (1851)

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Charles Vess for Neil Gaiman's 'Stardust'

St

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“Though gaily ye may laugh.In grief ye shall be left.For mocking maids,this ring ye ask shall never be yours”, from Siegfried & the Twilight of the Gods by Arthur Rackham (1911)

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gwyn and edern (and blodeuwedd)  i wanted to design a gwyn ap nudd that isn’t just herne the hunter 2.0. i like gwyn’s association with the mist and dark, lonely places. i think blodeuwedd would be his friend i also like to imagine edern is an annoying little brother lol

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lohengrin is female coded due to swan maiden coding

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Illustration from The Tale of Lohengrin, Knight of the Swan by Willy Pogany (1913)

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Illustrations from The Mabinogion by Alan Lee (2001)

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The Romance of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table

Abridged from Malory’s Morte d’Arthur by Alfred W. Pollard

MacMillan & Co

1917

Artist : Arthur Rackham

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The ancient world was full of textile masterpieces we can only imagine… but most of them have rotted away. So few of them have come down to us in these days that we think of metal and stone as the primary mediums for the oldest artworks. But there were tapestries and fabric work that would have rivaled the finest wrought gold and iron and the first cave paintings.

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 Pantheons in fantasy will almost always be something like “fire deity, water deity, light deity, EVIL deity, GREAT MOTHER” while an average bronze age city’s pantheon was s/t like “deity personifying the city, god everyone has to treat as the main one because his city got geopolitically lucky, three or so personifications of main local sources of income, a nearby mountain, half a dozen incoherent minor deities (at least one is the result of some misspelling a name), deified branding iron”

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“When I was a kid I’d hide between the bedpost and the wall and read books about King Arthur. I wanted to be a knight. I wanted to be anything other than my father. We lived under his rule; it was horror. My mother was loving, and strong in many ways. But she wouldn’t leave him. I used to watch her wipe her own blood off the walls. When I was thirteen I ran away for good. I didn’t tell her a thing; I just disappeared. And I know she was hurt by that. I slept in the park with a whole crew of punks and addicts. People in the neighborhood would give me little jobs. They trusted me, and I never stole from them. Because I had honor. I’d rob a leather coat from Macy’s in a minute, but that’s Macy’s. I’d never take a woman’s pocketbook. I’d never break into a deli. No matter how far I fell, my honor never failed me. Music never failed me. And a good book never failed me. One day it was pouring down rain, and I ducked into a cubby hole. There was a copy of The Diary of Anne Frank; just laying there. I was stoned out of my face. And I knew nothing about this little girl. But it’s pouring down rain; there was nothing else to do. So I read the whole thing. She was beautiful. All this horror, but she was surviving. And that gave me strength. By the time I was twenty-five I had my own room, with a hot plate, and a pair of reeboks. I was playing music with some cool cats. I was proud. It’s like: I’m making it. When I finally got clean, the first thing I did was knock on my mother’s door. Hadn’t seen her for twenty years, but she gave me the biggest hug. She told me that every Sunday since I’d left, she’d lit a candle and prayed for my soul. That night she cooked some chicken, which I killed. Then she gave me what was left in some Tupperware. That was smart, because I had to bring back the Tupperware. And I never stopped coming back. I’m 66 now. I’m clean, I live comfortably, I’m financially OK. And I still go to see her every Sunday. She’s 94. She’s half-blind. She can’t hear. But I’ll bring her cake, and we’ll talk. She likes to take my hand, so she can feel my rings. And while we’re talking, I can tell: she’s in heaven. I was able to give her that. I gave her peace.”

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Goddess of the Mountains by Fred L. Packer (1920's)

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Hey... guess what... 👀

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‘Water Spirit’ by Japanese Artist : Tachibana Sayume, 1932