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joemerl · 9 hours
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joemerl · 10 hours
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The Whumps of March 2024: "All For Naught"
A series of vignettes based on Arthurian legend, collected on AO3 here.
Lancelot found that it was strangely difficult to breathe. It might have been his injuries, still smarting after weeks of unconsciousness. But he didn't think that was it.
The Holy Grail had rejected him. 
It wasn't as if he had never failed a quest before—knights had unseated him, villains had managed to harm the innocent, but as much as those grieved him, this felt different. On those occasions, he could at least take comfort in the fact that he had merely failed—been a bit too slow, or made the wrong choice at a crucial moment. This time, he had been told that he, himself, was the failure. He hadn't just made an error in judgement; he had been judged, and found guilty.
And rightly so.
He closed his eyes, taking another painful breath. All these months, he had been praying and trying to make atonement. What hadn't be done, that God had refused to accept his repentance?
But then, maybe the question was, what had he done? What could he do, to undo so many years of sin, of lust and deceit and treachery?
He told himself, miserably, that he would stop his crimes. He would make himself worthy again, no matter how long it took or how difficult it proved.
Of course, his vow didn't last. He had barely returned to Camelot when he found himself back in Queen Guinevere's bed.
After all, God had already rejected him. Why should a failure like him even try?
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joemerl · 16 hours
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food sensitivity test...since when is being ok with bleu cheese comparable to eating bread or jelly that has mold on it? the cheese mold is a domesticated creature that we care for and replicate in exchange for making us funny snacks. I know her and I trust her. mold on a fruit could be anybody
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joemerl · 17 hours
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random Bruno and Camilo doodles cause theater kids got to stuck together
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joemerl · 18 hours
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joemerl · 1 day
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The Whumps of March 2024: "Betrayal"
A series of vignettes based on Arthurian legend, collected on AO3 here.
Lancelot had been one of Gawain's best friends.
They had journeyed together. Fought side by side against the enemies of Camelot. Saved each other's lives more times than he could count.
He had kept Lancelot's secret. Not that Lancelot had ever told it to him. But he knew, as almost everyone in Camelot did. And Gawain had never raised his suspicions to anyone, even though Arthur was also his friend, and his kinsman, and his king. 
And how had Lancelot repaid this friendship?
He had murdered Agravaine.
Tried to murder Mordred.
Murdered Gaheris.
Murdering Gareth, Gareth, who practically worshipped the ground that Lancelot walked on, who loved Lancelot far more than he loved Gawain, a fact that had always rankled but that he had accepted because it was Lancelot, surely he could stand his brother's rejection if he knew that it was Lancelot that he favored?
Gawain screamed.
Screamed until his throat was raw, tearing down every tapestry in Lancelot's abandoned room, smashing furniture, stabbing his bed over and over with his sword and throwing the feathers in great handfuls into the air.
Finally he stood there, surrounding by destruction, panting, shaking. Blood was dripping down his hands; he had cut them open without even noticing.
"Traitor," Gawain gasped.
"Pardon?" said a cracking voice.
He spun around. He hadn't even realized that Mordred was in the room. His little brother—his only brother—was pressed against the wall, his face pale, as if his own cold fury was melting in the heat of Gawain's rage.
"Traitor," Gawain repeated. He shook his head. "Not just to Arthur. To Gareth. Me. Everyone."
Mordred pressed his lips together. He wanted to remind Gawain that he had betrayed Arthur, too. Everyone who had known, everyone who had remained silent...part of him wanted to jeer at his brother's hypocrisy. Maybe these deaths were punishments for Gawain's own sins.
He didn't say any of that, however.
Partly because...at that moment, for the first time in his life, he was afraid of Gawain. He didn't know how he would react to that truth. (He was realizing that nobody reacted well to the truth.)
But more to the point. He could use this anger.
They were all traitors. Everyone left in Camelot had betrayed their ideals and betrayed each other. And Mordred was going to make all of them pay.
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joemerl · 1 day
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*based solely on school level, not the school itself (if you were a kid that had to move a lot)
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joemerl · 2 days
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Supporting victims of sexual assault includes standing with Israeli victims. Stand with Amit. Share her voice. There are still 100+ Israelis being held hostage in Gaza. Speak up.
jewishpridealways
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joemerl · 2 days
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Happy World Rat Day!
(Art is from October 2022.)
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joemerl · 2 days
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Baruch Dayan HaEmet
This was a 25 year old Druze factory worker named Zahar Bashara who was murdered this morning after being hit by a rocket fired by Hezbollah from Lebanon.
May his memory be for a blessing.
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joemerl · 2 days
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The Whumps of March 2024: "Ghosts"
A series of vignettes based on Arthurian legend, collected on AO3 here.
"Guinevere," the apparition breathed, and the queen startled backwards, bumping into Gawain. His grip on her shoulders was firm and protective.
"My Queen?" he hissed, not taking his eyes off of the figure. "Do you know what this is?"
Guinevere might not have heard him. "Mother?" she whispered.
The ghostly woman―who, Gawain thought, certainly looked like she could be Guinevere's mother―floated forward. She reached out like she was going to try to touch Guinevere―Gawain stiffened, mind racing as he wondered how to prevent it―but she stopped, as though held back by an invisible leash.
"Beware, Guinevere."
"Beware?" Guinevere seemed dazed, shaking her head. "What are you saying, Mother?"
"Your sins, my little flower, your sins! They imperil your soul." The woman moaned piteously. "Just as mine have done. You know what sins I speak of!"
Her voice grew loudly, almost shrieking, and Guinevere gasped, falling back against Gawain. He sucked in a breath, glaring at the specter.
"My Queen. We have no proof that this is who you think it is. Evil spirits often take the form of―"
"Beware, Gawain son of Lot!"
He froze, if only for a second, and the ghost continued.
"I see your doom as well, unless you act to prevent it. Beware your wrath! For I see you...hearkening to your death...and unable to rest...like me..."
Guinevere's mother, if it was indeed her, seemed to fade before their eyes. In a moment she was less distinct than a puff of smoke, and then she was gone, leaving the pair alone and shaken.
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joemerl · 3 days
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joemerl · 3 days
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The term "dragon slayer" can be interpreted two ways.
“Wait, you two legs give each other gold for hunting down monsters and stealing their wealth? Where do I sign up?” The massive towering dragon that was just about to burn down the town said to you.
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joemerl · 3 days
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joemerl · 3 days
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"Green knight"
The tale of the Green Knight really resonated with me. I just loved the image of this imposing emerald figure striding through a snow-covered forest, its path leading to Camelot. I made this painting for the upcoming Bad Apple art auction, which is centered around the theme of "Arthurian Legend". The auction will start at 5 PM EST on March 28 on the BA Facebook page.
The painting is 21 x 30 cm (incl. white border) on 300gr aches watercolour paper. It's created with a mixture of watercolour, markers, coloured pencils and gouache
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joemerl · 3 days
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joemerl · 3 days
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I recently had surgery, and at the time I came home, I had both my cat and one of my grandma's cats staying with me.
- Within hours of surgery, I wake up from a nap to my cat gently sniffing at my incisions with great alarm.
- I was not allowed to shower the first day after surgery, and the cats, seeing that The Large Cat is not observing its cleaning ritual, decided I must be gravely disabled and compensated by licking all the exposed skin on my arms, face, and legs.
- I currently have to sleep with a pillow over my abdomen because my cat insists on climbing on top of me and covering my incisions with her body while I sleep (which is very sweet but not exactly comfortable without the pillow). She also lays across me facing my bedroom door, presumably on guard for attackers who may try to harm me while I'm sleeping and injured.
That's love. 🐈‍⬛🐈❤️
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