#MY. VON ERL

[kyoukamybeloved]

"If i say something touching now, maybe a miracle will happen and Chuuya will go back to normal?"

"Come back to me, Chuuya."

more skk web weaves: 1, 2, 3, 4

In A Dream You Saw A Way To Survive; “I swear, next time I’ll see you I’ll be funny” - Clementine Von Radics// art by @/xymeiyouqian on twitter//  Anecdote of the Pig - Tory Adkisson//art by @damianito// bluets - Maggie Nelson// Fourth of July - Sujfan Stevens// left alone - Fiona Apple// a self-portrait in letters - Anne Sexton// art by @/1110yu_ku_si on twitter// Cape Verdean blues - Shauna Barbosa// art by @zaerxa// deathless - Catherynne M. Valente// ivy - Taylor Swift// true blue - boygenius// never let me go - Florence+the machine// the Great War - Taylor Swift// art by @liyv// The Erl-King - Angela Carter// fingertips - Fortesa Latifi// you had me at hello - Mhairi McFarlane// art by @damianito// Trista Mateer// a burning hill - Mitski// new year's day - Taylor Swift// art by @pleucas// a barbie dream house but all the dolls are kitchen knives - Cassandra de Alba// my tears ricochet - Taylor Swift// the perfect pair - beabadoobee// art by @ezariumi// the accident has occurred - Margaret Atwood// the archer - Taylor Swift// little weirds - Jenny Slate// art by @pleucas// Sue Zhao// art by @seukorei// what I could never confess without some bravado - Emily Palermo// everybody does - Julien Baker// work song - Hozier//

tagging moots and others users who liked my other web weaves :)

@philzokman @amagami-hime @vivid-vices @miltseyx @nnavia @dinosaur-mayonnaise @zamxii @vinylbiohazard @bunglegaydogs @pendragonstar @lotus-reblogs @ghostsinacoat @ricelover888 @thou-shalt-cha-cha-real-smooth @slug-behaviour @oatmilkbasic @atsuwushi @dahliagrave

@whiteapplesandblackblood

[loola-a]

finally introducing everyone to my fe3h fanhouse, the ivory swans !!! this house essentially serves as an exchange student program for students that dont really have an affiliation with the three nations of fodlan. they mean… very much to me…….

i’ll put little bios of them all under the cut ! :-)

Aurora de Voll Heir to the Albinean throne and house leader for the IS, she's been sent to Fodlan to foster good relations! She's very gentle and calm and also a huuuge perfectionist.

Freya Frederic Naess Aurora's vassal since childhood, she's a massive animal lover who prefers spending time outside enjoying the summery weather they never get to experience back in Albinea.

Cassandra Nikos A mysterious student who often talks about her 'isolated childhood'. While incredibly kind and slightly airheaded, she seems to be connected to Cornelia in some way.......

Florence von Giselle A decade before the Academy era, the Giselle family was exiled from the Adrestian Empire after Florence's father's connections to the disgraced House Hrym were discovered.

Christoph von Emre A noble from Dagda who is fourth in line to inherit the title of Duke. Believing that he will never come to lead House Emre, Christoph is adverse to the idea of growing up and gaining responsibility, preferring to spend his time exploring the monastery and looking at bugs.

Aiyla Daphnis Being one of few survivors of the Tragedy of Duscur, Aiyla has had to look out for herself from a young age. Losing her parents in the tragedy led to her developing a deep hatred for the Kingdom of Faerghus and anyone who supported the massacres and she strives for revenge against those responsible.

Romeo Burhan Romeo was an only child of an Almyran family living near the Alliance-Almyra border. When the constant battles and fights grew closer and closer to his home, his parents became fearful for their safety and as a last resort put him in the care of his uncle who smuggled them into Fodlan under fake names.

Benjamin Erling Benjamin was the eldest child of a family residing in Daphnel. When he was ten his family fell on hard times and was no longer able to provide for their many children, as Benjamin was the eldest they made the choice to abandon him in hopes of being able to save their money. Since then he has fended for himself, making friends with other children he met on the streets, most notably his closest friend Romeo.

[cilil]

The Ifenkönig

Characters: Finwë, Míriel, Námo, mentions of Vairë and Nienna Synopsis: When Míriel falls ill after childbirth, Finwë tries to take her to the gardens of Lórien for healing; however, the Lord of the Dead already has his sights set on her. Warnings: Sickness, death, dark!Námo Poetry

Also available on AO3

Disclaimer: This isn't an original poem written by me, this is based on and adapted from "Erlkönig" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Edgar Alfred Bowring's English translation of the poem (both of which you can read here). It's a sort of "remix" if you will, just as a fun little exercise because I had this random idea of a darker verse in which Námo actively takes Míriel's soul and this poem fits the vibe.

Title translation and explanation will be down below.

Who rides so late through the night dark and drear?

King Finwë it is, with his lady wife dear.

He holds her tightly embraced in his arm,

He holds her tenderly and keeps her warm. 

“My dear lady, wherefore d’you avert your eye?”

“Do you not see, my lord, the Doomsman close by? 

Do you not see him, with death veil and dark train?”

“Dearest, it must be mist rising over the plain.”

“Oh come to me, lovely Míriel, ere midnight falls 

For there’s peace, quiet and healing in my halls;

From a safe distance, we shall watch fate unfold

And my lady shall adorn you with robes of gold.”

“Oh husband, husband, but do you not hear

The words the Judge whispers in my ear?”

“Be calm, dear wife, your fancy deceives

It is only the wind whispering through leaves.”

“Won’t you, dear Míriel, accompany me there?

I shall leave you in my sister’s loving care;

I shall give you to my wife to keep

She shall sing and hold you in your sleep.”

“Oh husband, husband, but do you not see

The Doomsman brought wife and sister for me?”

“My love, my love, it is quite alright

The mist again is deceiving your sight.”

“My wife, as am I, is charmed by your beauty,

Come with me now, to fulfil my duty.”

“Oh husband, husband, I fear he takes me at last

His hands hold my soul, he’s seizing me fast.”

King Finwë now hurries, afraid for her life

He holds in his arms his shivering wife 

He reaches the gardens with terror and dread

His queen he finds silent, unmoving and dead.

Ifen (also If, Ibe, Eve, Eue) -> Eibe -> Yew König -> King The yew tree is commonly associated with death.

The original title, Erlkönig, translated as Erl-King (the literal meaning being alder (tree) king), comes from the Danish word elle which, according to several sources, can mean either alder or elf, so it's possible that Johann Gottfried Herder - who translated the material that Goethe later adapted originally - made an error; it's also possible he intentionally chose this meaning.

Ergo, the Erl-King could also be an Elf-King, which I thought was a neat tidbit to mention for my fellow Tolkien fans ^^

Thanks for reading!♡

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[shawnfreki]

Jan Kazimierz Olpiński (1875-1936), Erlkönig / Erl-King (Król Olch)

"My father, my father, and don't you see there

The Erl-King's daughters in the gloomy place?

My son, my son, I see it clearly:

There shimmer the old willows so grey."

(Erlkönig by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

[poems-from-around-the-world]

The Erl-King - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - Germany

Translator: Edgar Alfred Bowring (German)

Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?

The father it is, with his infant so dear;

He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,

He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.

"My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?"

"Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!

Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?"

"My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."

"Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!

Full many a game I will play there with thee;

On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,

My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."

"My father, my father, and dost thou not hear

The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?"

"Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;

'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."

"Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?

My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care

My daughters by night their glad festival keep,

They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."

"My father, my father, and dost thou not see,

How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?"

"My darling, my darling, I see it aright,

'Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight."

"I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!

And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."

"My father, my father, he seizes me fast,

Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."

The father now gallops, with terror half wild,

He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;

He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,—

The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.

[dreamsofalifeold]

((What if...I gave myself the gift of a wonderfully self indulgent AU for my muse?

Two poems I really love are The Erlking by Goethe and The Erl-King's Daughter by Johann Gottfried Von Herder. And I've had a few oc's similar to this concept but!!!

Shy as one of the Erl King's many daughters. Not really knowing her father because he used the form of an existing human to meet Shy's mom. She attracts death and chaos because her genes EXUDE death and chaos, and she can probably talk to ghosts and shit.

People either love or hate her because she's got this weird vibe like a cryptid; like you don't know why or how but you know she's just Not Right. Cats and corvids like her and bring gifts to her, but other animals are terrified of her and even the tamest rodents run afraid from her.

She's her normal weird, goofy self but there's just something wrong with her and she knows it but doesn't want to admit as much because she wants to be good. But accepting her crown might be better...))

[neoboha]

Erlkönig by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Original:

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?

Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;

Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,

Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?

Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?

Den Erlenkönig mit Kron' und Schweif?

Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.

"Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir!

Gar schöne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir;

Manch' bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,

Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand."

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,

Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?

Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;

In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind.

"Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?

Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön;

Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,

Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein."

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort

Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort?

Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh' es genau:

Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.

"Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt;

Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch' ich Gewalt."

Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an!

Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan!

Dem Vater grauset's; er reitet geschwind,

Er hält in den Armen das ächzende Kind,

Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not;

In seinen Armen, das Kind war tot.

Translation:

Who rides, so late, through night and wind?

It is the father with his child.

He has the boy well in his arm,

He holds him safely, he keeps him warm.

My son, why do you hide your face in fear?

Father, do you not see the Erl-King?

The Erl-King with crown and cape?

My son, it is a streak of fog.

"You dear child, come, go with me!

(Very) beautiful games, I play with you;

Many colourful flowers are on the beach,

My mother has many a golden robe."

My father, my father, and do you not hear

What the Erl-King quietly promises me?

Be calm, stay calm, my child;

Through dry leaves, the wind is sighing.

"Do you, fine boy, want to go with me?

My daughters shall wait on you finely;

My daughters lead the nightly dance,

And rock and dance and sing to bring you in."

My father, my father, and don't you see there

The Erl-King's daughters in the gloomy place?

My son, my son, I see it clearly:

There shimmer the old willows so grey.

"I love you, your beautiful form excites me;

And if you're not willing, then I will use force."

My father, my father, he's touching me now!

The Erl-King has done me harm!

It horrifies the father; he swiftly rides on,

He holds the moaning child in his arms,

Reaches the farm with great difficulty;

In his arms, the child was dead.

[urne-buriall]

per the fic notes: the Oak Tree King is based on “Erlkönig” (or Erl-King), a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. it’s been set to music frequently, and I borrow specifically from Josh Ritter’s adaptation of the song as “Oak Tree King” here

for today's notes: there's a lot in a name. Erlkönig is literally Alder-king, hence Elijah's last name of Alder (which also ties his fate to the forest - as if this would always happen). his contemporary, and witness to his death, bears the last name Kinbote, which is taken from the narrator of Nabokov's Pale Fire. while more reliable than that narrator, he provides the commentary on Eli's death in the same way that Kinbote comments upon the book's poem written by John Shade. the book and poem allude directly to the Erlking in reference to the death of John's daughter Hazel and the loss a parent feels for a child stolen by death. we have one more Pale Fire intertwining echo in the chapter's title (discussed previously). Hazel dies after falling through ice on a frozen lake, while the chapter's title is the poem of the same name by Gabrielle Calvocoressi about the tragic loss of children to frozen water: "Our two boys went out to skate, broke / through the ice like battleships, came back / to us in canvas bags."

obviously none of this really matters. it's just set-dressing. you don't have to read Pale Fire to understand the fic. Scott Kinbote is not a 1:1 expy of Nabokov's Kinbote and I'm always going to serve my story first, and the references second. but I find adding in these layers makes it easier for me to write. now that I've selected a last name, I've got all this other material to work with that makes the whole process richer

meanwhile when it comes to actual themes and character growth, I'm not hiding anything or being coy. it's spelled out here:

It had been easier to look at Eli, born the same year as Dean but preserved eternally in his youth. As if, but for being dead, he still had all his options ahead of him. Not as easy looking at Scott, the same age Dean was now, feeling like everything had been over for a long time. And that it had never properly started. But that was the wrong way about it, completely back-asswards.

graves we filled before the fire, pt. v

questions about Mothman and much stranger creatures come to light.

[derangedrhythms]

Do you have any quotes on "touch"? I've been thinking about touch and its absence because of the pandemic and would love to read anything on it

"One day without his hands and she thinks how sad it is to love."

— Marguerite Duras, from 'Hiroshima Mon Amour', tr. Richard Seaver

"Don't you sense me, ready to break / into being at your touch?"

— Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours: Love Poems to God; from ‘lch bin, du Ängstlicher. Hörst du mich nicht’, tr. Anita Barrows & Joanna Macy

"Because I never hold you, I hold you fast."

— Rainer Maria Rilke (quoted in ‘A Lover’s Discourse’ by Roland Barthes, tr. Richard Howard)

"…a heart that strikes up a battle rhythm every time you touch me."

— S. T. Gibson, from 'Literary Sexts'

"That night was nothing but getting to know how smooth your body is. The memory of it goes through me like brandy."

— Ted Hughes, Letters of Ted Hughes; from a letter to Sylvia Plath, March 1956

"when we touch / we enter touch entirely"

— Anne Sexton, All My Pretty Ones; from ‘The Truth the Dead Know’

"The weight of his fingers on mine, like a bird landing on a branch. It was the drop of the match. I did not see that we were surrounded by tinder until I felt it burst into flames."

— Hannah Kent, from 'Burial Rites'

"In the heat of her hands I thought, This is the campfire that mocks the sun."

— Jeanette Winterson, from 'Written on the Body'

"...he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist..."

— Richard Siken, Crush; from 'You Are Jeff'

"His touch both consoles and devastates me…"

— Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; ‘The Erl-King’

"Shock! It’s as though his soul has touched / me as his arm leans on mine."

— Marina Tsvetaeva, Selected Poems; from ‘Poem of the End’, tr. Elaine Feinstein

"I want to touch you until my palms burn."

— Amirae Garcia, from 'Literary Sexts'

"What are you now? If we could touch one another, / if these our separate entities could come to grips,"

— Muriel Rukeyser, from 'Effort at Speech Between Two People'

"...and then one touch of your hand / and God comes rushing back."

— The Borgias, Season 3; Episode 10

"I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,"

— A. E. Housman, from 'He would not stay for me, and who can wonder'

"They were not holding hands, but their shadows were."

— Toni Morrison, from 'Beloved'

"Oh how it courses all through my veins when by accident my finger touches hers or when our feet touch under the table. I pull back as though from fire and a mysterious force draws me on again—there is a fainting in all my senses."

—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, from ‘The Sorrows of Young Werther’, tr. David Constantine

"Come back often and take hold of me, / sensation that I love come back and take hold of me— / when the body’s memory awakens / and an old longing again moves into the blood, / when lips and skin remember / and hands feel as though they touch again. / Come back often, take hold of me in the night / when lips and skin remember…"

— C. P. Cavafy, Collected Poems; ‘Come Back’, tr. Edmund Keeley & Philip Sherrard

"I feel you, phantom touch, although you're far"

— Chelsea Wolfe, 'Twin Fawn'

"She stroked my head for a long time, and then we hugged and it felt like drowning."

— Jeanette Winterson, from 'Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit'

"I realize after this touch / he would know me / years from now, even / in the dark, even / without my skin."

— Philip Memmer, from 'The Paleontologist’s Blind Date'

"I had to touch you with my hands, I had to taste you with my tongue: one can’t love and do nothing."

— Graham Greene, from 'The End of the Affair'

[booksellergothic]

Halloween Day 12

A poem for today, especially for my dear @sylviefromneptune who I know loves The Erl-King, but may not know his daughter

The Erl-King’s Daughter

Johann Gottfried von Herder (1744–1803)

SIR OLF rode fast towards Thurlston’s walls,

 To meet his bride in his father’s halls.

He saw blue lights flit over the graves;

The elves came forth from their forest-caves.

 They danced anear on the glossy strand,        

And the Erl-King’s Daughter held out her hand.

 “O, welcome, Sir Olf, to our jubilee!

Step into the circle and dance with me.”

 “I dare not dance, I dare not stay;

To-morrow will be my nuptial-day.”         

 “Two golden spurs will I give unto thee,

And I pray thee, Sir Olf, to tarry with me.”

 “I dare not tarry, I dare not delay,

To-morrow is fixed for my nuptial-day.”

 “Will give thee a shirt so white and fine,         

Was bleached yestreen in the new moonshine.”

 “I dare not hearken to Elf or Fay;

To-morrow is fixed for my nuptial-day.”

 “A measure of gold will I give unto thee,

And I pray thee, Sir Olf, to dance with me.”        

“The measure of gold I will carry away,

But I dare not dance, and I dare not stay.”

 “Then, since thou wilt go, even go with a blight!

A true-lover’s token I leave thee, Sir Knight.”

 She lightly struck with her wand on his heart,        

And he swooned and swooned from the deadly smart.

 She lifted him up on his coal-black steed;

“Now hie thee away with a fatal speed!”

 Then shone the moon, and howled the wolf,

And the sheen and the howl awoke Sir Olf.        

 He rode over mead, he rode over moor,

He rode till he rode to his own house-door.

 Within sate, white as the marble, his bride,

But his gray-haired mother stood watching outside.

 “My son, my son, thou art haggard and wan;         

Thy brow is the brow of a dying man.”

 “And haggard and wan I well may be,

For the Erl-King’s Daughter hath wounded me.”

 “I pray thee, my son, dismount and bide:

There is mist on the eyes of thy pining bride.”         

 “O mother, I should but drop dead from my steed;

I will wander abroad for the strength I need.”

 “And what shall I tell thy bride, my son,

When the morning dawns and the tiring is done?”

 “O, tell my bride that I rode to the wood,         

With my hound in leash and my hawk in hood.”

 When morning dawned with crimson and gray,

The bride came forth in her wedding array.

 They poured out mead, they poured out wine:

“Now, where is thy son, O goldmother mine?”        

 “My son, golddaughter, rode into the wood,

With his hounds in leash and his hawk in hood.”

 Then the bride grew sick with an ominous dread,—

“O, woe is me, Sir Olf is dead.”

 She drooped like a lily that feels the blast,         

She drooped, and drooped, till she died at last.

 They rest in the charnel side by side,

The stricken Sir Olf and his faithful bride.

 But the Erl-King’s Daughter dances still,

When the moonlight sleeps on the frosted hill.         

Let me know if you are interested in being added to my taglist

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[fictionz]

Short Horror Stories for the Season

I’m striving to read another 31 spooky short stories in October. I thought it’d be neat to share the stories I’ve collected from previous years since I often find myself wishing for lists like this as I research new stories and authors.

I’m not a devout genre reader so it’s a mix of stories that may not fall into traditional horror categories, but are still intense reads or appropriate to the moods of the season. I've made sure to include more than just white men from the United States and Western Europe. There’s a line from each story as well to get a sense of what’s in there.

Some stories contain disturbing, violent, and/or sexual content, so fare thee warned.

---

"His Face All Red" by Emily Carroll - “This man is not my brother.”

"The Vampyre" by John Polidori - “His peculiarities caused him to be invited to every house...”

"Lost Souls" by Clive Barker - “Hell possessed a genius for deceit.”

"The Striding Place" by Gertrude Atherton - “Weigall did not believe for a moment that Wyatt Gifford was dead...”

"Dracula's Guest" by Bram Stoker - “Ah! I see, a suicide. How interesting!”

"I am Anjuhimeko" by Hiromi Itō - “That's right, how could anyone possibly have karma as bad as mine?”

"Patient Zero" by Tananrive Due - “So I guess I’ll never have a chance to talk to the President again.”

"If you meet a strange, confident woman, she may well be a witch" by pelsmith - “By the end of the third victim, I slept like a lamb.”

"The Things" by Peter Watts - “I am being Blair. I escape out the back as the world comes in through the front.”

"In the Court of the Dragon" by Robert W. Chambers - “Poor devil! whoever he was, there seemed small hope of escape!”

"The Specialist's Hat" by Kelly Link - “Claire is better at being Dead than Samantha.”

"I want you in my mouth" by lovejoyman - “The first thing Frank noticed, of course, were her breasts...”

"A Study in Emerald" by Neil Gaiman - “I am selfish, private and easily bored. Will this be a problem?”

"The Ghost in the Mill" by Harriet Beecher Stowe - Wal, I know lots o' strange things...

"The Shadow Over Innsmouth" by H.P. Lovecraft - “And why is everybody so down on Innsmouth?”

"From a Farther Room" by David Gilbert - “Alert the media: unhappy, middle-aged white man on the loose.”

"The Overcoat" by Nikolai Gogol - “The young officials laughed at and made fun of him, so far as their official wit permitted.”

"Harold" by Alvin Schwartz - “Now and then the doll grunted, but that was all.”

"The Complete Gentleman" by Amos Tutuola - “When he reached where he hired the left foot, he pulled it out...”

"Der Erlkönig" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, composed by Franz Schubert - “Father, don't you see the Erl-King?”

"Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" by Joyce Carol Oates - “He wagged a finger and laughed and said, 'Gonna get you, baby.'”

"A Good Man is Hard to Find" by Flannery O'Connor - “Yes and what would you do if this fellow, The Misfit, caught you?”

"Peter Rugg, The Missing Man" by William Austin - “I have heard it asserted that Heaven sometimes sets a mark on a man, either for judgment or a trial.”

"A Rose for Emily" by William Faulkner - “Alive, Miss Emily had been a tradition, a duty, and a care...”

"Ted the Caver" by Ted - “He said it sounded like rock sliding on rock. Sort of a grinding sound.”

"The Black Cat" by Edgar Allan Poe - “The fury of a demon instantly possessed me.”

"Death and Transfiguration of a Teacher" by Maria Teresa Solari - “I took off her sock and bit into the heel.”

"Who Will Greet You At Home" by Lesley Nneka Arimah - “Her mother had formed her from mud and twigs...”

"Hungry Daughters of Starving Mothers" by Alyssa Wong - “...the rankness of his thoughts leaves a stain in the air.”

"Whole" by firmuhment - “When I first noticed the hole, it was small, really small.”

"A Distant Episode" by Paul Bowles - “The sound of the flute came up from the depths below at intervals...”

"The Apparition of Mrs. Veal" by Daniel Defoe (1706) - “If the eyes of our faith were as open as the eyes of our body, we should see numbers of angels about us for our guard.”

"The Adventure of the German Student" by Washington Irving (1824) - “He was, in a manner, a literary goul, feeding in the charnel house of decayed literature.”

"The Phantom Coach" by Amelia B. Edwards (1864) - “Against what superstition have they waged so long and obstinate a war, as against the belief in apparitions?”

"The Soul of the Great Bell" by Lafcadio Hearn (1887) - “All the workmen wrought their tasks in silence; there was no sound heard but the muttering of the fires.”

"The Damned Thing" by Ambrose Bierce (1898) - “All seemed to be waiting for something to occur; the dead man only was without expectation.”

"Afterward" by Edith Wharton (1910) - “The sunny English noon had swallowed him as completely as if he had gone out into Cimmerian night.”

"The Demon Lover" by Elizabeth Bowen (1945) - “You have no time to run from a face you do not expect.”

"The Lonesome Place" by August Derleth (1948) - “What do they know about a place and time when a boy is very small and very alone, and the night is as big as the town, and the darkness is the whole world?”

"A Visit" (prev. "The Lovely House") by Shirley Jackson (1952) - “A tile is missing from the face of Margaret, who died for love.”

"The Tower" by Marghanita Laski (1955) - “There was nothing left in her brain but the steadily mounting tally of the steps.”

"Night Surf" by Stephen King (1969) - “He said his name was Alvin Sackheim. He kept calling for his grandmother.”

"Don't Look Now" by Daphne du Maurier (1971) - “How to replace the life of a loved lost child with a dream?”

"Jacqueline Ess: Her Will and Testament" by Clive Barker (1984) - “If one has given oneself utterly, watching the beloved sleep can be a vile experience.”

"███████" by Joyce Carol Oates (1998) - “Each of us had one, in our bowls. Warm and pulsing with life and fear radiating from it like raw nerves.”

"In the Water Works (Birmingham, Alabama 1888)" by Caitlin R. Kiernan (2000) - “Fresh wound, these walls, this abscess hollowed into the world’s thin skin.”

"Vampire Princess" by Ryuki Mao (2004) - “The human will want to take you into the light, saying it’s for your own good.”

"Cruel Sistah" by Nisi Shawl (2005) - “One singing note, which he raised and lowered slowly. High and yearning. Soft and questioning. With its voice.” 

"The You Train" by N.K. Jemisin (2007) - “All the defunct lines, the dead lines. I think they never really go away.”

"Wet Pain" by Terence Taylor (2007) - “It doesn’t matter whether you believe in ghosts if they believe in you.”

"Hello, Moto" by Nnedi Okorafor (2011) - “It always felt so good to take from people, not just their money but their very essence.”

"Monstro" by Junot Díaz (2012) - “Motherfuckers used to say culo would be the end of us. Well, for me it really was.”

"Pearls" by Priya Sharma (2012) - “All because you couldn't have me.”

"Bugs" by Ageha (2013) - “Hey, pinky promise you’ll play with me.”

"Out of Skin" by Emily Carroll (2013) - “A heap of wet skin and decaying cloth, crowded inside a dark pit I’d never seen before.”

"The Graveless Doll of Eric Mutis" by Karen Russell (2013) - “Yolk came oozing out of the mystery, covering all our hands, so that we became involved.”

"How to Get Back to the Forest" by Sofia Samatar (2014) - “The smell in the bathroom was terrible now--an animal smell, hot; it thrashed around and it had fur.”

"None of This Ever Happened" by Gabriela Santiago (2016) - “Someone has to write Uhura looking out the window and dreaming of home.”

"Wish You Were Here" by Nadia Bulkin (2016) - “Hopefully, by the time the world ends, you’ll be gone.”

"Sixteen Minutes" by Premee Mohamed (2016) - “I felt its breath in the night sometimes, like the warm, moist breath of my son when he’d crawl into bed with us.”

"The Taming of the Tongue" by Russell Nichols (2016) - “You don’t know what this boy wants you to see way out here, but ain’t nothing worth getting eaten alive for.”

"A Diet of Worms" by Valerie Valdes (2016) - “Hell, maybe you’ll even stay and watch the movie.”

[uss-bigsurprise]

The Erl-King

(Illustration by Frank Kirchbach)

Who's riding so late where winds blow wild

It is the father grasping his child;

He holds the boy embraced in his arm,

He clasps him snugly, he keeps him warm.

"My son, why cover your face in such fear?"

"You see the elf-king, father?

He's near! The king of the elves with crown and train!"

"My son, the mist is on the plain."

'Sweet lad, o come and join me, do!

Such pretty games I will play with you;

On the shore gay flowers their color unfold,

My mother has many garments of gold.'

"My father, my father, and can you not hear

The promise the elf-king breathes in my ear?"

"Be calm, stay calm, my child, lie low:

In withered leaves the night-winds blow."

'Will you, sweet lad, come along with me?

My daughters shall care for you tenderly;

In the night my daughters their revelry keep,

They'll rock you and dance you and sing you to sleep.'

"My father, my father, o can you not trace

The elf-king's daughters in that gloomy place?"

"My son, my son, I see it clear

How grey the ancient willows appear."

'I love you, your comeliness charms me, my boy!

And if you're not willing, my force I'll employ.'

"Now father, now father, he's seizing my arm.

Elf-king has done me a cruel harm."

The father shudders, his ride is wild,

In his arms he's holding the groaning child,

Reaches the court with toil and dread. —

The child he held in his arms was dead.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, translated from German by Edwin Zeydel

[lets-talk-story]

Erlkonig

Who’s riding so late, in the night and wind? It is the father with his child. He grasps the boy in his arm. He holds him securely; he keeps him warm.

My son, why do you hide your face so fearfully? “Father, don’t you see the Erl-King there? The Erl-King with his crown and train?” My son, it’s a streak of mist.

‘You delightful child, come with me! I’ll play wonderful games with you. Colourful flowers grow on the shore. My mother has many fine things.’

“My father, my father, don’t you hear What the Erl-King said to me?” Be calm, stay calm, my son; The wind is stirring the dry leaves.

‘Fine boy, will you come with me? My daughters will wait on you nicely. My daughters will lead the evening dancing And rock and dance and sing to you.’

“My father, my father, don’t you see The Erl-King’s daughters in that gloomy place?” My son, my son, I see it indeed; The old willow gleaming so gray.

‘I love you, I delight in your beautiful shape; And if you are not willing, I shall use force.’ “My father, my father, he has seized me! Erl-King is injuring me!”

The father blanched; he rode swiftly. He held the moaning child in his arms. With great trouble, he reached the courtyard. In his arms, the child was dead.

-Johann Wolfgang von Goeth, 1782 (English translation)

[fanfictionlive]

Finding inspiration in music/poetry?

I was listening to Der Erlkönig, A German poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, which tells the tale of The Erl-King (also known as the Erlkönig or Elf-King), a malevolent elf that lures children to their destruction.

The poem tells of a father journeying home on horseback with his ill child clutched in his arms. The child tells his father, who cannot see the Erl-King, that he thinks he can see the Erl-King, who promises him countless things, as long as the child comes with him. The child resists the Erl-Kings temptations, but eventually the Erl-King grows angered and tells the child that he will take him by force, and when the father arrives home, the child is deceased, taken by the Erl-King.

After listening to it (I'd never heard it before, just read it), I was hit with a burst of inspiration to write a very angsty one-shot about one of my favorite characters dying in his fathers arms after an encounter with the Erl-King (so obviously an AU but not too AU because hey it's a fictional/magical world anyway so who knows the Erl-King could always exist there lol) 🙃 (I love angst and dark fics haha)

So, how about you guys? Are there any songs that have given you a burst of inspiration? Are there songs that you revert back to again and again to get ideas?

I'm just curious :)

submitted by /u/TeaRenQ [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans https://ift.tt/2oL2OHT

[philaoidos]

Der Erlkönig / The Erl-King (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?

Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind.

Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,

Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?

Siehst Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht!

Den Erlenkönig mit Kron’ und Schweif?

Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.

Du liebes Kind, komm geh’ mit mir!

Gar schöne Spiele spiel’ ich mit dir,

Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,

Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand.

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,

Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?

Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind,

In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind.

Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir geh'n?

Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön,

Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn

Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein.

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort

Erlkönigs Töchter am düsteren Ort?

Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh’ es genau:

Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.

Ich lieb dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt,

Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt!

Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an,

Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan.

Dem Vater grauset’s, er reitet geschwind,

Er hält in den Armen das ächzende Kind,

Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not,

In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.

Who rides through the windy night so wild?

It is a father with his child.

He has the boy safe in his arm,

He holds him fast, he keeps him warm.

“Why is your face so anxious, my son?”

“Don’t you see, father, the Erl-King yon,

With his crown and his elfin train behind?”

“My son, ’tis a wisp of fog in the wind.”

My darling child, come, go with me!

Such lovely games I’ll play with thee;

Bright-petaled flowers bloom on the shore,

My mother has golden garments in store.

“My father, my father, can you not hear

The promise he whispers in my ear?”

“Stay calm, my son, and be at ease;

Dry leaves are rustling in the breeze.”

Pretty boy, wilt thou go with me?

My daughters all shall wait on thee.

My daughters the fairy round do keep;

They’ll dance with thee, rock thee and sing thee to sleep.

“My father, my father, can you not see there

The Erl-King’s daughters in their gloomy lair?”

“My son, my son, I see very well:

’Tis the old grey willow trees in the dell.”

I love thee, I burn for thy beautiful form;

If thou art not willing, I’ll take thee by storm!

“My father, he’s seized me, I cannot flee;

O father, the Erl-King is hurting me!”

The terrified father rides on through the wild,

He clasps in his arms the whimpering child,

He reaches the courtyard with desperate dread—

The child he held in his arms was dead.

[cartoonus-maximus]

“You're a very handsome young man,” the Elfking commented, his voice full of laughter. “I must say, I find myself rather taken with you.”

He began reaching a hand up, as though to touch Ryou's face. “Would you like to stay in my forest with me, pretty boy?”

Ryou froze, his breathe caught in his throat, his mind confused and clouded by fear and desire as he watched the deathly pale hand come closer.

Good afternoon. I wrote “Erl-king” Tendershipping.

.

.

“the Elfking”  6-11-2018

inspired by “the Erl-king” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, which is both a poem and a song if you want to give it a read/listen

Even though he’s never called by name, the Elfking in this story is intended to be Yami Bakura.

. .

There was something about the forest. Something otherworldly. Something deadly. Even the horses could tell that something was wrong, the animals skirting as far away from the forest as they could, quailing when Ryou and his father put them back on the path that edged the trees.

“Honestly, now,” Father chided the horse, pulling hard on the reins and forcing his steed to walk straight again. “I want to be home before the sun sets.”

Father was a merchant, and had been traveling to sell his wares in the neighboring towns. Ryou was well into his teens, almost a man, and was old enough and clever enough to assist his father in his work. They had been traveling for several days now and were finally on their journey back home, just in time for winter to set in.

Ryou's eyes wandered to the thick forest beside the path, wondering what was setting the horses off like this. He knew the legend of the forest, but he didn't put much stock in it.

“Come on, now,” the young man began, righting his horse another time. “The way you beasts are acting you'd think the Elfking himself were watching us!”

Father let out a laugh at that, amused by the idea of an imaginary creature causing their steeds to misbehave in such a way. “There may be wolves or bears living in the forest, and the scent is scaring the horses. It's more likely than that old legend, at any rate.”

The old legend of the forest told about how a being known only as 'the Elfking' lived within the trees, a creature who supposedly lured wayward travelers to their deaths. But the legend was old and, in recent years, was primarily used to scare children from wandering very far from home. But Father loved learning about the old legends and tales, even if he didn't believe any of them were true, and he was forever explaining and retelling the tales to Ryou, the boy inheriting his fascination with the archaic lore.

Ryou's eyes wandered back to the forest, darting between the trees, looking for something that could be the cause of the horses' concern. Winter was coming, and the trees were almost bare, offering little coverage for any fauna living within, and the squirrels and birds stuck out noticeably whenever they moved.

Something caught Ryou's eye for an instant, a pale face set against the dark canopy, and then was gone as though it had winked out of existance.

Ryou blinked, startled. “Father... I think I saw a man in the forest.”

“You mean like a hunter?”

“Maybe.” The young man shook his head, trying to clear the image from his mind. “I'm not sure.”

When he looked again, the face had returned, and it was much closer, its eyes locked with Ryou's. It was a man's face, but there was something wrong with it. Something twisted.

It smiled at Ryou, handsome and charming, than vanished again.

Ryou stared after it dumbly, his mouth dry, his heart beating in his ears like a drum. Father was saying something beside him, but Ryou couldn't hear the words.

The figure returned again, but this time it was standing a ways down the path, right on the forest's edge. Its arms were crossed over its chest as it stood there stoically, as though it had been waiting for them for hours.

Father let out a cry of surprise, and the horses both reared and stepped back. Ryou stared open-mouthed at the figure, startled and confused... and just a little bit smitten.

The figure looked almost like a man, its form tall and thin and unnaturally pale. Long, silvery tresses of hair was pulled back from its narrow face, cascading down its back like a silver waterfall. The figure was garbed in a long, black gown robe, the thin material moving like silk and changes colors like the northern lights. Small gems adorned the creature's robe and ears and face, twinkling like stars.

But what really got Ryou's attention were the figure's long, pointed ears, and even longer, pointier antlers. The antlers grew from its head like the branches of a dead tree, as though the creature were part of the forest itself.

The figure turned its beautiful face toward Ryou and smiled again, and Ryou couldn't help but smile back.

“Wh-who are you?!” Father demanded, moving his horse so that both he and the animal were positioned between Ryou and the mysterious figure. “What are you?!”

The figure turned to Father, unimpressed. When it spoke, its voice was somehow both deep and light at the same time, sounding almost as though it were singing instead of speaking. “I am the light that brings death. I am the frozen wind of the winter, and the cold embrace of time. I am both the forest and the forest keeper. I am the Elfking.”

“The Elfking...” Ryou repeated, full of awe and wonder.

The figure moved again, suddenly standing beside Ryou's horse and smiling up at him, the close proximity making the horse sidestep away.

“You're a very handsome young man,” the Elfking commented, his voice full of laughter. “I must say, I find myself rather taken with you.”

He began reaching a hand up, as though to touch Ryou's face. “Would you like to stay in my forest with me, pretty boy?”

Ryou froze, his breathe caught in his throat, his mind confused and clouded by fear and desire as he watched the deathly pale hand come closer.

His horse suddenly moved beneath him, Father's hands grasping the reins and pulling hard. Ryou breathed again, more than a little shaken, and forced his gaze away from the inhuman creature.

“Elfking or no, I'll thank you to keep away from my son!” Father yelled. He met the creature glare for glare, not quailing even once. Ryou couldn't help but be a little proud of him.

“Don't toy with me, mortal!” the Elfking sneered. “You'll find it unwise to interfere with my dealings. Now,” he turned back to Ryou, his voice as sweet as honey. “Come here, little lovely.”

Ryou swallowed but smiled, eagerly moving to comply, ignoring Father's outcry as he slid down from his horse, taking one hesitant step toward the Elfking, and then another.

“It's alright, lovely,” the Elfking cooed, his outstretched hand beckoning Ryou closer. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

When Ryou was close enough, the Elfking's hand came to rest on his cheek, caressing him softly. Ryou's vision gradually began to grow dark, until all he could see was the Elfking's smiling face in front of him, and all he could feel was the Elfking's warm hand on his cheek. He was dimly aware of Father calling for him, but he could barely hear him.

The Elfking fixed the horses with a stare, scaring them so much that they reared and whinnied and took off running, carrying Father with them. The path seemed to vanish, and when Ryou tried to look around him all he could see for miles in every direction was the forest.

“Are you cold?” the Elfking asked. His hand was gently raking through Ryou's hair, his lips pressing a kiss to the boy's temple. He lifted Ryou into his arms when the boy nodded. “Let's get you back to my home, to my warm bed and my fireplace.”

Ryou blinked and suddenly he was inside a spacious building of some sort, the design reminding him of a longhouse and a palace and a spiderweb. He was laid down on a soft bed before a roaring fire and bundled up in softer, warmer blankets. He couldn't help but giggle as the Elfking leaned over him, nuzzling his cheek and kissing his nose. So filled with happiness was he that he almost didn't notice when his heart stopped beating.

…

It was late when Father made it back to town, his eyes wide and fearful as he raved about a creature in the forest that had taken his son. The townspeople believed that the young man Ryou must have been slain by a wolf and warned their children once more to stay away from the forest.

Father's friends bought him drinks and brought him home, mourning the loss of his son with him, the blow of losing his only family member left hitting him especially hard. But nothing could be done about it.

No one believed Father's tale of the Elfking spiriting away his son. And, after a few drinks, neither did Father.

…

Time passed. After almost a year, a young man opened his eyes once more, as he struggled to emerge from his chrysalis. The living, human form of Ryou Bakura was gone now, replaced by a new body, forged for him by the magic of the Elfking's forest.

Silvery hair framed his unnaturally pale face. Plantlike vines grew out of his body, the black tendrils wrapped comfortably around his arms and legs and waist and neck, forming something that felt like a crown around his forehead. There was a strange weight on his back, and when he craned his neck to look he saw wings, shaped like leaves but as thin and clear as an insect's.

Strong hands clasped around him, pulling him into a standing position, drawing him into a loving embrace.

“You are beautiful,” the Elfking murmured, his lips at his lover's pointed ear. “My Elfprince.”

The Elfprince made a sound of delight, pleased by his new name and how it sounded when his king said it.

And when the Elfking told him “You will stay here with me for all eternity,” the Elfprince couldn't help but smile.