Reblog To Give The Person You Reblogged From The Strength To Complete The Task™

Sleeping Joan of Arc — George William Joy (1844-1925)

Merlin Horror Month 2024!

Welcome, Tavern-goers, to our fourth quest: Merlin Horror Month!

With spooky season coming up, how about making a little something to give us all a scare with our Merlin Horror Month?

Is someone being haunted? Are there monsters and ghouls in Camelot? Is there a serial killer on the loose? It’s time to be brave and show us some fanwork entries that will strike fear into the hearts of other fans!

So, what is Merlin Horror Month?

For this quest, we invite you to join us and post a spooky, scary or in some way horrific Merlin fanwork. Maybe there’s something strange in the neighbourhood. Or has a dead body been found? Perhaps the dead have come back to life (again)…  It’s up to you!

We are here for the whole of the spooky month, so give us your entries at any point from 1-31 October!

Here are the rules of the quest:

All works should have a spooky/scary theme

Any pairings and types of fanwork are welcome. The minimum requirements are:

Fanfic: at least 500 words.

Fanart: at least 1 completed work.

Podfic: at least 5-10 minutes long (and please get the fic creator’s permission!).

Fanvids: at least 2-3 minutes long.

For other fanwork formats, please contact us so we can decide on a suitable minimum amount.

Please note: No AI generated or assisted works are allowed for this fest

The fest is self-posting and runs from 1 October to 31 October. No fanworks for the fest will be accepted before or after those dates.

How do I participate?

Post your fanwork wherever you like. If you would like to post your creation to our AO3 Collection specifically for this fest (tavernfest_quest4). 

Follow the instructions and submit your work to us here: https://tavernfest.tumblr.com/submit

Please make sure to use the #merlinhorrormonth tag in addition to #tavernfest!

That’s it. We'll promote it here on Tumblr and in our dedicated Discord channel.Thank you! We look forward to seeing what you come up with!

women in PHLEGM (poetry, history, language, english literature, ghost stories, music)

Behold! Dragoon the Great pondering his orb!

I wonder, what secrets of the universe is he peering into?

I'm sick of internet negativity, so let's combat it: reblog this and saying something nice/pay a compliment to the prev in the tags.

Periodically I'll google Irish email etiquette because I can never remember the sign-offs and it will be perpetually entertaining to me when they translate Beir bua as Best wishes.

I'm sorry, I'm a medievalist, and this phrase is literally in Oidheadh Con Culainn:

"Best wishes". What a funny way to tell somebody to take victory!

Anyway, this is how I read emails with Irish salutations:

O Ruairi, my ally,

I hope this email finds you willing to aid me in battle. If you're still open to sending me those unpublished editions you're working on, I would be incredibly grateful, as they'd help a lot with my research.

Take victory,

Finn

the horrors persist but my friends write beautiful fanfic

Gwen & Merlin | Teen & Up | No Archive Warnings Apply | Word Count: 500

Post-Canon | Ghosts | Grief & Mourning | Immortal Merlin

For @merlinmicrofic with the dialogue prompt "almost" and the @tavernfest Merlin Horror Month 2024

An elderly Gwen summons Merlin to Camelot on Samhain. Their old friends walk the Earth again for a night.

☾ ☾ ☾

She was sitting by the fire in the chambers she had once shared with her husband. The flames sputtered in the grate, attacked by the late autumn winds. Upon the hearth there were food offerings; it was Samhain, the eve of the night the dead woke from their sleep and roamed the Earth once again.

“Merlin,” Gwen called to him softly, her eyes shining and a little cloudy in the light, evidence of the cataracts laying claim to them. She stretched out her hand and he hobbled over with his staff and took it. It was soft, wrinkled, but strong. 

Gwen had received him earlier in the throne room but this, with the night blackening the windows, was when they could truly speak. 

He sat down groaningly beside her. Immediately, she leaned towards him in her chair and poked his knee. “I heard a rumour.” 

He leaned as well. “A rumour?” he croaked. 

“I’m told that you're not as you appear to be. That you…” she seemed to search for the words. “They say nature has not taken hold of you as it has me.” 

He opened his mouth but she stopped him.

“Let me see you as you really are... Please.” 

He changed, letting go of the glamour he had assumed. 

By the way she reached out, he knew she couldn’t help it. She cupped his unbearded face, swiped a thumb over his cheek like there was a tear there just as her own eyes filled. 

“It’s like…” she trailed off in wonder. 

“Seeing a ghost?” he guessed. 

“No,” she shook her head, retracting her hand. “No. I should know… I called you here because-” 

There was a knock at the door. 

She cleared her throat, emotion leaving her voice. “Come in.” 

A knight entered.

“Is it time?” she asked.

“Almost.” 

“Help an old woman up, Merlin?” 

They were on the ramparts of the outer walls, it had been a struggle to get up here, but Gwen, now bundled in Merlin’s cloak, had been singularly determined.

It was a full moon but the night was choked with mist. 

Merlin’s magic prickled, beyond the walls something had stepped back onto the mortal plane. 

He tried again to implore her to return to the palace. “Gwen, it's Samhain, we shouldn’t-” 

“Just… Watch.” 

He grimaced but did as his queen bid. 

A horse whinnied faintly, like the tail end of an echo. From the mist, three caped figures on horseback were given form. Ceremonial Camelot banners, washed grey by the night, waved silently in a non-existent wind above them. Their shape, their faces, tilted up, serene, their eyes on the queen – Merlin startled. “It’s-!”

“Gwaine… Lancelot… and Elyan,” she finished, her voice breaking more with each name. 

“But..? Gods, why-?”

“They came last year, and the year before that,” she said, breathing. She drew her borrowed cloak closer. “I know now. They're waiting for me.” 

In Avalon his friends would be together again. Death had never been kinder, and fate more gruel. 

I really appreciate that the Alliterative Morte Arthure is giving Kay a solid 45 lines to go full batshit mad scientist on his feast preparations, featuring

Peacocks, plovers, pork, porcupine, herons, swans, beef, wild boar, barnacle goose, young hawks in bread, cranes, curlews, rabbits

By my rough count, approximately eight different kinds of wine

On-fire blue stews ("wavy with azure sauce all over, they appeared to be flaming")

More fire: "pheasants adorned in flaming silver"

Poison-proof gold cups: ("So that if any poison should go secretly under them [in the cup],/The bright gold would burst all to pieces with anger,/Or else the poison should lose its power because of the virtue of the precious stones")

Quick what are you doing RIGHT now (besides scrolling Tumblr)