#but they also have so many folktales

[lichenaday]

has anybody in Iceland told you yet about the Icelandic folktale about the origins of yellow and white lichens?

What??? No! Please tell me!

[stormbornwitch]

When I was a child, I was often left in the care of my Nanna. It is from her that I learnt many of the pieces of what she would call "little magic".

At her side, I learned how to sew and make little finger puppets and 'dollies'. We walked through the park, and she pointed out the plants and trees and their properties. With her, I made my first lavender filled bag to help me sleep. She would spoil me with peanut butter and butter sandwiches (which my mother was staunchly against), and then showed me how to feed the house spirit (a bowl filled with crusts of bread and milk poured over the top with a bit of honey drizzled over it).

She also told me stories - so many fairytales and folktales that would horrify parents if told to their children nowadays. But it was only when I was older and in school that I realised the stories she told me were different from the ones my friends had been told... mine were darker and full of old truths and lessons I still remember to this day.

-

One of my favourite tales was of a little girl with honey blond hair and blue eyes whose name started with a V (I can't for the life of me remember her name). Her father was a merchant, and her mother was kind. Their little family of three were quite happy until the little girl's mother got sick. The merchant hired healers and priests to help his wife, but all failed to help the little girl's mother, her sickness worsening with each passing day. Soon, it was clear that her mother was dying, and the little girl's father refused to leave his wife's bedside, leaving the little girl to fetch water from the well, light the fires, cook meals for her family and care for the home.

One day, her mother called the little girl to her bedside and asked her husband to step outside of the room for a moment. The little girl approached her mother's bedside with trepedation. Reaching under the bed, the mother pulled out a strange little cloth doll with no face. The doll was made from a scrap of her mother's favourite dress, with her mother's hair ribbons binding it into the shape of a doll.

"Here, my child. She will protect you when I am gone. All you must do is feed the doll a drop of your blood and tell it your problem, and it will be fixed."

The little girl did not understand but took the doll from her mother. "But how will I feed her a drop of my blood if she has no mouth?"

The little girl's mother smiled, and for a moment, she didn't look sick anymore.

"Promise me, my beautiful daughter, that you will keep her with you, for she will act in my stead once I am gone."

The little girl did not understand her mother's words but promised again to keep the doll with her at all times.

The mother suddenly surged forward and tightly clasped her daughter’s hands in her own. "No one can know you have her, not even your father. Let no one see her. Keep her hidden on your person at all times unless you have need of her."

The little girl, now afraid at her mother's vehement pleas, nodded frantically to show she acquiesced and would do as she was bid.

Her mother, seeing the little girl's compliance, collapsed back into her bed and dismissed the little girl, bidding she tell her father he could return.

Her mother died that night; her father distraught at the loss of his beloved wife.

Though it was not long after the little girl's mother was buried, that her father remarried once more.

The little girl's new mother was a widow with no children of her own, and the little girl's father told her "She will make a good mother for you, my child" But she was not a good mother.

For you see, any time the little girl's father was home, the woman would treat the little girl kindly, but as soon as her father was gone, her stepmother would turn cruel and demand the little girl do all of the housework and chores. If little girl refused, her stepmother threatened to beat her, and told the little girl she would go to bed without supper if the work was not done. Since her father was away, and there was nothing the little girl could do, she did as she was bid; completing the work until her hands were cracked and bleeding with sores. However, despite the little girl's efforts, her stepmother was still unsatisfied with the little girl's work, locking her outside the house overnight.

Cold and exhausted, the little girl crept into the storeroom and laid down on the floor.

It was then that the little girl remembered her promise and the little doll she had kept secret in a pocket inside her dress. Carefully, pulling out the strange little doll, the little girl remembered her mother's words.

"Though you have no face, I will feed you a drop of my blood." And so the little girl dabbed one of her bleeding fingers against where the dolls mouth would be if it had one. "Please help me, little doll, for my stepmother is a cruel woman, and I can not possibly do all that she has bid of me."

It was then the little girl heard a voice inside her head, "Sleep, my child, and I will complete all that has been asked of you."

With a small smile of relief, the little girl went to sleep, and when she awoke, it was to find all of the chores her stepmother had requested, completed.

Surely, with all of the work done, her stepmother would let the little girl inside. So she tucked the doll back into the inner pocket of her dress and left the storeroom. But upon seeing the jobs miraculously done overnight, the stepmother's face turned ugly.

"I suppose since you've done all that was asked, you can come inside to break your fast."

The little girl meekly entered the home and ate the cold porridge she was given without comment. But as soon as she was done eating, her stepmother gave her another list of jobs to do, even more than the day before.

And so the little girl worked all day until her feet were sore and her hands were cracked and bleeding. But her stepmother remained unsatisfied, as all of the chores were not completed. Resigned, the little girl crept back into the storeroom for the night.

With bloodied hands, the little girl pulled out the doll from her hiding place and dabbed a drop of her blood where the doll's mouth would be.

"Please, little doll, I need your help once more. I can not do all that is asked of me, and my hands are blistered and sore."

Again, the little girl heard the doll's voice inside her head, "Sleep little one and all will be well, I will show you where the healing herbs dwell."

With a smile, the little girl went to sleep on the storeroom floor, and when she awoke, she found that once again, all of the jobs her stepmother had told her to complete were done.

Again, when the little girl went up to the house and knocked on the door, her stepmother seemed furious the jobs were done. With gritted teeth, she bid, "I suppose since you've done all that was asked, you can come inside to break your fast."

And so the little girl ate the cold porridge placed afore her as her stepmother once more listed more outlandish jobs for the young girl to complete.

And so the years went by, the little girl growing into a beautiful and capable young woman. Her hands and body were strong from all of the work she would complete each day, and thanks to her mother's blessing, she knew and harvested all manner of healing herbs and edible plants from the nearby forest.

But every time her father was home from his business trips, he would always comment "You are becoming so beautiful my darling daughter, just like your mother" These comments would make her stepmother scowl and her face turn ugly with rage. So, as each year passed, V became more beautiful, and her stepmother became more hideous in her hatred.

In her hatred, V's stepmother began sending her into the forest for ridiculous errands. V knew that her stepmother probably intended for her to get eaten by wolves, or worse, by the witch that supposedly lived in the wood. But thanks to her mother's blessing and a sharp thorn kept in the pocket of her dress, V was always able to fetch whatever her stepmother requested from the wood and return home safely.

One night, V's stepmother came to the storeroom door where V was sleeping on the floor. "Get up at once. Your lazyness has allowed the hearth to go out, and not even coals remain to light a fire. You must go to the witch of the wood and ask her for a coal"

"But stepmother," V cried out in vain. "The witch if the wood eats people! Surely she will not give me a coal!"

V's stepmother sneared down her long nose at her. "Go afore it is too dark to see the way."

And so V set off into the forest until not even the light of the moon could guide her steps. It was then that the quiet whispers of her mother's doll began to give directions through the dark wood.

Soon, V emerged into a strange clearing. In its centre, a wooden hut sat on top of tall wooden posts that looked almost like chickens feet. At the base of the hut was a small garden with all manner of plants growing. And surrounding the garden was a fence that seemed to be made of bones. Thankfully, as V approached the hut, she could see a warm light coming from within. This must be the home of the witch of the wood.

Following the fence of bone, V reached the garden gate. On either side of the gate were skulls set atop large bones. Small candles inside the skulls seemed to light as if by magic as soon as V touched the gate.

"Why are you here, child?" A voice called out from the hut. There in the doorway stood an old woman, her back bent from many years of hard work and her long grey hair gleaming in the moonlight.

V plucked up her courage and called out, "My stepmother sent me to find the witch of the wood to ask for a coal."

At her response, the old woman barked out a laugh that sounded more like the cawing of a crow than a human laugh. "And what will I get in return? I will not give you a coal for free."

Again, V plucked up her courage and responded, "I will work for it. I promise I'm a hard worker, you can see from my hands." At this V raised her hands for the old woman to inspect.

Seeing the calloses from many years of hard work, the old woman nodded. "Very well, you will work for me for a day and a night, and you will receive a coal from my hearth that will never go out."

With that, the old woman turned around and began to walk up to the hut. As she walked, she began to list the chores she wanted V to perform. "You will clean the house and yard, wash the laundry, and cook us two meals; breakfast and supper. You will go into the storeroom and separate rotten grains from sound grains and gather and store seeds from the garden."

After years of dealing with her stepmother's ever expanding list of demands, this old woman's jobs seemed almost easy by comparison.

"First, let's see your skills as a cook. Go to the garden and fetch us something for supper"

And so into the witch's garden, V went, gathering edible and medicinal plants until she had enough to make a hearty soup, which would helpfully ease some of the old woman's pain.

The old woman nodded at V's selection and led her up the ladder into the hut. On one side of the hut was a large stone hearth, and at its heart, five large coals gleamed as they cradled the base of a large iron pot.

"Take the pot to the stream and fill it halfway with water. Then return to make your soup." The old woman bid.

It took all of V's strength to lift the large iron pot from the hearth and carry it carefully down the ladder so as not to scorch the wood. Down the garden path, V carried the pot past the bone gate and back into the forest. Thankfully, her mother's blessing whispered directions, and V was able to quickly locate the nearby stream and fill the pot halfway.

Returning to the hut, V began chopping herbs and vegetables and throwing them in the pot. Soon the hearty supper was bubbling away in the pot and ready to be served.

The old woman passed V two wooden bowls and a large wooden ladle.

"You want two bowls of soup?" V asked the old woman.

"No, the other is for you, child." The old woman barked before hitting V with the large spoon. Doing quickly as she was bid, V ladled out two portions of the soup; one for her and one for the old witch.

With the soup placed in front of her, the old woman quickly ate her supper seemingly ravenous. V ate her portion much slower, not used to having supper anymore, though she was happy to refill the old woman's bowl with more soup when she was bid to.

With supper eaten, V gathered their bowls, spoons, and knife into the now empty iron pot and carried it down the ladder, through the garden gate and down to the stream to wash.

Upon her return, she found a pallet bed had been made up.

"That is for you," the old woman muttered as she walked over to her own bed tucked into the wall of the hut.

"But how will I get all of the jobs done if I sleep here?" V asked.

The old woman turned back to her with a strange smile on her face. "I'm sure a hard-working young woman such as yourself can find a way."

With that, the old woman climbed into bed, leaving V to climb into the pallet bed. When she heard the snores of the old woman, V pulled out her mother's doll from the secret pocket of her dress. "Please, little doll, I need your help once more. I can not do all that is asked of me, and my hands are blistered and sore."

Again, the little girl heard the doll's voice inside her head, "Sleep little one, the jobs will be done upon the rising of the sun."

With a smile on her face, V fell asleep, assured that her mother's blessing would help her once more.

When she awoke, V saw that the old woman was already awake and was staring into the hearth as she sipped on a strong smelling tea. "I see you were quite busy while you slept." The old woman said with a crooked smile and a gesture to the iron pot full of hot porrige.

"Are there other jobs you need me to complete?"

"You will eat this porridge and carry one of these coals to your stepmother's house. Then you will return here."

Once more, V did as she was bid.

Upon finishing her porridge, the old woman gave V a fox skull. Using large iron tongs, the old woman reached into the hearth and removed one of the hold glowing coals and placed it in the jaws of the fox.

"Take this to your stepmother's house to light her hearth and then return here."

And so V carried the skull, down the ladder, through the garden, out the gate and through the forest until she reached the edge where her father's house stood.

V knocked on the door, and her stepmother quickly opened the door, a look of shock and horror gracing her features.

No sooner had her stepmother opened the door, and then the coal had begun to glow brighter and brighter. Within moments, her stepmother's dress and the doorframe of the house began to smoke, and soon, both were burning merrily until naught but ashes remained.

Once more, V did as she was bid.

She returned to the witch in the wood and learned all that she could.

-

As a kid, I loved this version of the Baba Yaga tale, and now as an adult I love how these stories were the avenues for or my Nanna to pass on examples of small magic and witchcraft.

This is also probably why I've never had an issue with blood based magic when so many other witches do have an issue with it.

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Choosing the Beast: Modern Folklore Heroines Embrace the Animal Husband

“I choose the bear.” The refrain rang out across the web, with many a woman nodding in agreement or at least understanding, and certain men huffing with indignant outrage. Just a meme, really, but did it speak to a deeper truth? Is it merely age-old mistrust of patriarchy talking, or a true desire for the beastly, the wild, the untame?

I’m no sociologist, of course, but I have noticed an emerging trend in fem-gaze media that seems to reflect this view. In movies like I Am Dragon (2015) and recent shows like My Lady Jane and The Acolyte, the heroine chooses the beast, loving her animal husband in his wild form rather than requiring him to transform back into a mundane man to earn her affection. This is such a departure from the typical folktale pattern that it’s difficult to even find an historic example where this occurs.

Commonly thought to reveal the desire to tame a dangerous mate in a patriarchal society, most animal husband tales (ATU 425a) feature a hero who ultimately transforms permanently into a human. This is viewed not only as freeing him from the maddening effect of his wild form, but also saving his bride from committing the sin of bestiality. In these tales, the animal mate’s transformation is necessary for the salvation of both.

Is the modern heroine then damned by choosing her husband’s beastly form? Or does she actually free them both from the yoke of patriarchal expectations?

Bathing: Discovering the Wild Masculine

The first motif that stands out in these modern screen examples is bathing. In animal spouse tales, there is often a dynamic of the hunter and the hunted, and thus a moment when the hunter comes upon their would-be lover unawares. Perhaps they find the animal spouse sleeping, or they cast a light on them unexpectedly, see them without their animal skin or disguise, and so on. And of course, they often come upon the lover at their bath.

There is an implied eroticism in this discovery, finding one’s quarry not only undressed, but also in the most private of activities. Water of course symbolizes fertility, but bathing is also purifying, symbolically washing away all that might make a mate undesirable. And this, perhaps, is the reason that historically this motif is used almost exclusively for animal brides, not animal husbands.

For the animal husband, he either actively chooses to reveal himself to the bride (perhaps on their wedding night), or she violently strips away his disguise, often armed with “flame and steel” like Psyche and her many avatars. Animal brides on the other hand are nearly always discovered at a body of water, bathing. The hunter will then capture her either by stealing her animal skin or cloak, or by placing his own clothing on her. What does it mean, then, when it is the husband who is discovered bathing in a body of water, held as an erotic object in the feminine gaze?

In The Acolyte, Osha follows Qimir to a pool where he slowly undresses, in full knowledge that she is watching. On the shore, she steals his lightsaber, just like the hunter who steals the animal skin, symbolically claiming him. When he emerges, Qimir dons new clothes, as if acknowledging that he is a different person than before he entered the water, almost purified in a way. Osha is forced to confront that there is more to the murderer in the mask than she realized.

Similarly, in My Lady Jane, our heroine goes looking for Guildford just before sunrise on their ill-fated wedding night, only to discover him bathing in the stables. The scene is gratuitously filmed from Jane’s (very horny) perspective, flipping the script on the countless scenes in screen history shot with the masculine gaze. Immediately after she discovers and confronts him, Guildford transforms against his will into a horse, and Jane realizes that he is an Ethian, a creature she has been taught is demonic and unnatural.

And in I Am Dragon, Mira makes several discoveries in quick succession: first, she deduces that Arman is actually the dragon. In the next moment, she slips from the island’s peak and falls, saved only when Arman transforms at the last moment and breaks her fall with his dragon form. The water begins to wash over his unconscious body, and at first Mira thinks that she will allow him to drown. But the sight of Arman in his human form after he rescued her, worried over by his animal familiar, stirs her to pity and she wraps him in a sail and drags him to safety. In this way, she clothes him, claiming him as her own.

Each of these heroines discovered a new aspect of her husband at the bath, finding him unexpectedly alluring, and ultimately choosing to begrudgingly claim him. Each animal husband tried to wash away his beastly form, to separate himself from the wild masculine. These men feel a sense of disassociation from a part of themselves, but now that their brides have discovered it, there will be no more hiding. Further, the bride now holds the power in the relationship, evidenced by how her husband needs her: Qimir needs Osha to be his apprentice, Guildford needs Jane to help him “break the curse,” and Arman needs Mira to heal him from his wounds.

Playing House: The Half-Husband

The second feature of these stories is a period of domesticity for the couple. For a brief time after the husband’s beastly nature is revealed, the lovers “play house” like children. While sexual tension is present, they typically do not consummate their union during this time, but instead cook, eat, rest, and care for one another. What’s more, they ignore or even attempt to actively destroy the husband’s animal form. They deny that this is part of him and therefore part of their relationship.

In I Am Dragon, Mira heals Arman, and wakes the next morning to find he has left food for her (dragonfruit, appropriately). Together they begin building a home out of shipwreck debris they find scattered around the island. A cheery montage shows them decorating a living space, choosing clothes, playing music, and dancing. But the specter of Arman’s monstrous form lurks on the edge of their idyllic life. Mira has nightmares, and tells Arman how much she fears “the dragon,” notably not referring to them as the same person. And eventually, it emerges that Mira has been planning to escape, rejecting Arman’s dragon form entirely.

After he sheds the helmet and robes of The Stranger, Qimir turns his attention to caring for Osha: he heals her, lets her sleep in his bed, provides clothes, and cooks for her. In turn, after some lightsaber-wielding, Osha becomes more comfortable in his home and accepts the food he offers, eventually even trying on his helmet. Later, they bicker amiably on their way to Brendok, like an old married couple on a road trip. When not facing down Jedi, Qimir leaves his menacing persona behind and transforms into an empathetic, protective, and alluring partner.

Jane Grey, meanwhile, finds herself using her honeymoon sequestered away in a private cottage to try to cure Guildford of his Ethianism. With her knowledge of medicine, she concocts various potions and magical cures, but none of them succeed. Guildford often checks in on her after these disappointments, making sure she’s getting enough sleep and taking care of herself. It’s also clear that they’ve been regularly dining together when Jane suddenly dashes off to rescue her friend. Guildford follows her and the two protect one another, followed by an almost-tryst. Even when they move into the palace, their day-to-day (or rather night-to-night) life is one of comfortable domesticity, although they continue to deny Guildford’s horse form.

In each of these cases (although less so in The Acolyte without Season 2 to continue the story), playing house can only last for so long while the husband’s animal nature is denied. There is a part of him that is suppressed, rejected, and this leads to him being incomplete, a half-husband. Each hero is unable or unwilling to accept and celebrate his whole self with his bride. Eventually, it is that denial that leads to a rift between the couple, which can only be healed not with the transformation of the husband, but with the embrace of his animal form.

Enforcing Patriarchy: The Rival

Each of these relationships exists in direct opposition to the dominant culture in the story: Arman as the Dragon is the literal enemy of Mira’s people, Qimir as Sith is the enemy of Osha’s Jedi masters, and in My Lady Jane, intermarriage between humans and Ethians is punishable by death. By choosing to stay with their animal husbands, even for a brief time, our heroines are openly defying the patriarchal norms of their societies. But no oppressive society is about to take that transgression lying down. In each story, a rival emerges to enforce the patriarchal order, kill the beastly husband, and retrieve the bride.

In I Am Dragon, Mira’s betrothed and descendent of the dragon-slayer, Igor, journeys to rescue her from the dragon. Over the course of the story, it becomes clear that Igor cares nothing for Mira herself, and merely feels entitled to her as his bride. Dragon-slaying is his heritage, so he must find her, kill the dragon, and take his place as the hero of his people. Even the marriage ceremony illustrates his ownership of her: he takes hold of a rope tied to her boat and reels her in, thus binding her to the patriarchal order. Contrast that to Arman, who offers her the power of flight, a symbol for freedom.

In Osha’s case, Qimir’s rival for her loyalty is clearly Master Sol, who wants to keep his former pupil dependent on him and the Jedi. Sol takes patronizing fatherliness to an extreme, constantly rescuing Osha rather than letting her stand for herself, teaching her to deny her feelings and instincts, and lying to her to “protect” her. The Jedi refuse to allow that there might be any other way to access the Force than their own, thus invading the home of the Brendok witches and ultimately orphaning the twins. Sol continues to press this dominance to the end, challenging Qimir and insisting to Osha that his own lies were justified.

In My Lady Jane, there are two rivals, both women. Lady Frances attempts throughout the show to dominate her daughters and crush their wills, forcing them into unwanted marriages, applying political pressure, and even counseling Jane to abandon Guildford to save herself. The other rival is Mary Tudor, who is determined not only to emulate her father’s violent, oppressive, and misogynistic reign, but to crush anyone she considers “unnatural” or who poses a threat to her rule. These characters stand as clear examples of how women can enforce patriarchy, too.

In each story, there is a moment when the rival briefly recaptures or “rescues” the bride from her beastly husband, bringing her to a moment of decision: will she stay within the bounds of patriarchy like a good little girl? Or will she make an act of defiance to choose her own path?

Marriage: Choosing the Beast

The bride’s choice will ultimately decide not only her fate, but that of her mate as well. As an independent character, the wild masculine is deeply wounded, separated from himself and thus from his bride. He longs to transform not into a greater, more whole person, but into a lesser, half-person. Alone, without the embrace of his anima, he cannot see the value of his beastly form. Instead of healing, he faces annihilation.

As a part of the bride’s psyche, the beastly husband represents her innermost desires, the truth of her heart, and a spirit freed from the expectations of her society. He is her animus, her missing wild masculine. If she transforms him into a man, then she will tame his wild nature, bringing him to heel under the boot of the patriarchy. Choosing the human form and rejecting the beast means rejecting her own psychological needs. It would be just another form of psychic dismemberment.

Fortunately and unusually, each of these modern brides chooses her beastly husband without demanding he transform. When Osha finally agrees to become Qimir’s apprentice, she takes his hand under the willow tree, clasping the newly-bled lightsaber between them. A few scenes later, this wedding imagery is repeated when they hold hands over the saber again, this time looking into a sunrise/set. Notably, at the moment they “marry” under the willow tree, Qimir is wearing his beastly helmet with rows of menacing, wolfish teeth. He has not come to the light side or shed his Dark Side persona, but Osha has embraced him anyway without fear. And while they might not both be healed (yet), they are more whole together than they were apart.

When her efforts to cure Guildford of his Ethianism repeatedly fail, Jane begins to suspect that his “condition” cannot be cured at all. But listening to her Ethian friends Susanna and Archer finally convinces her that the truth is Guildford doesn’t NEED to be healed - being an Ethian is who he is, and it’s nothing to fear. Unfortunately, Guildford still associates his beastly form with his mother’s death, so he is unable to accept it as Jane encourages, and flees. After a near-death experience, he uses his equine speed to return to the castle just as Jane is deposed and captured. As our heroes battle toward the end, Guildford comes to learn that there are many other proud Ethians, and that his family loves and accepts him in any form.

Still, he’s unable to transform at will, and when Mary captures him and sentences both husband and wife to death, it seems their story may end in tragedy. But as Guildford has been struggling to accept himself, Jane too has been battling with her own conscience. Does she renounce Guildford to save herself? Use her wits to kill the guard and escape? Bend to her mother’s manipulation? Jane confronts each temptation, and ultimately chooses to face death rather than betray Guildford or herself. But when her Ethian friends (the wild instinct) appear to disrupt the execution, our heroine seizes the opportunity to rescue Guildford. Unable to free him from the burning pyre, she confesses her love for him, and they kiss amid the flames.

Fire is often a herald of transformation, burning away illusions to reveal the truth. And when Jane and Guildford exchange their vows in this symbolic marriage ceremony, Guildford’s fears and illusions are finally burned away. Now that his bride has accepted his beastly form, he can accept it too, and so he at last transforms at will into a horse so that they can escape. Their story ends with them married and whole before the sunrise.

Among our modern heroines, Mira is the boldest in her embrace of the beastly husband. Offered yet again as a bride to Igor, she realizes that this is not what she wants, and casts off the tether from her boat. She declares “I love the Dragon!” using the name of her husband’s animal form rather than his human name. Then, she sings the song that will call the dragon to her, and he appears to carry her away again.

But their story is not over yet! Earlier in the story, Arman told Mira of how he loses control when in dragon form, and that dragons are compelled to reproduce by burning maidens to death and retrieving their offspring from the ashes. Returning to the island with her a second time, the dragon drops her on the altar and prepares to spew fire, but Mira lunges up and kisses him. This act of love, even when he is a monster, stuns the beastly husband. Again, Mira declares her love and kneels before him, saying she does not wish to be parted. We might expect the animal husband to transform in this moment, but instead he lays his fearsome head in her lap as a lover. Their story ends with a child and a flight in the sky, silhouetted by the sun just like the other couples.

Each bride, when confronted with the option to return to the patriarchal limits of her childhood, chose instead an act of love and acceptance for her wild masculine. This embrace helped the beastly husband to accept his whole self, and he is healed without having to cut off the wild parts of himself.

What Does It Mean?

Again, this story is so rare in world folklore that it’s difficult to even find examples. On fleeting occasions that the woman chooses an untransformed beast, it is presented as a cautionary tale. These women are framed as a danger to the community for their bestial impulses and abandonment of the social order, much like witches who were said to consort with the devil. It was certainly never presented as a happy ending, insofar as we can tell from written accounts.

So what does the emergence of this tale mean for our culture? I would argue that this is just the latest step in our ongoing reckoning with historic gender roles, as well as renegotiating with other forms of systemic oppression. People of all genders are pressured to reject a part of ourselves, cutting us off from our own truth and desires that run counter to the enforced social order. We must not challenge patriarchy, must not embrace different gender expressions, must not blur established hierarchies of power, must not find joy and power in our identities, and so on.

This enforced denial does tremendous damage to everyone caught in the system, and so through story, we dream our way to escape. We dream of embracing the dark, wild parts of ourselves, of flying free on a spaceship or a dragon or enchanted horseback, and of being totally loved for who we are.

It’s clear patriarchy is still fighting back against this emancipation of the wild feminine and wild masculine, given that both The Acolyte and My Lady Jane were canceled not long after their release. In the case of The Acolyte in particular, there was a sustained campaign from its announcement to harass and silence the creators. Demoralizing as this phenomenon may be, it’s important to remember WHO ultimately owns these stories:

“Fanfiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk.

-Henry Jenkins, NYT 1997

Ah, an oldie-but-goodie. But Dr. Jenkins is right. Corporations may greenlight, film, release, and then cancel these stories, but ultimately they belong to the people. We take from these tales what speaks to us, leave what does not, and then retell them ourselves in fanfiction, in art inspired by the stories, and in lessons we pass on to our friends and families. If the embrace of the wild masculine speaks to you, let the story take root in your own life. Do you know someone who needs to be embraced, just as they are? Do you need to accept the parts of yourself that society tells you to hate? Do you want to be free, healed, and whole?

If so, then let these stories show you how, and tell more like them. Embrace the beast, and find your joy.

Sources:

Beauty and the Beast Tales From Around the World by Heidi Anne Heiner

In Search of the Swan Maiden: A Narrative on Folklore and Gender by Barbara Fass Leavy

And a relevant song for you, as a treat:

Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Horror

Horror is a genre within creative writing that relies on one thing: instilling a sense of fear in the reader.

The horror genre is multifaceted—there is a kind of horror for every kind of person.

For some, the most effective scare is the idea of being trapped in a haunted house. For others, it’s being chased by a serial killer on Halloween.

Some of the best horror comes from scary things that can manipulate an audience’s feelings, creating a sensation of uneasiness and fear that stretches beyond consciousness and permeates deep within the psyche.

Horror writing is sometimes categorized within the broader category of thrillers, but not all horror follows the thriller structure.

Classic horror fiction—whether expressed as a novel, novella, short story, or film—will tap into topics that reliably frighten most humans.

Common topics include ghosts, werewolves, vampires, zombies, serial killers, murderers, and the fear of the unknown.

These horror tropes can often devolve into clichés.

A downside of horror’s popularity is that many horror books and movies recycle old content in non-creative ways, but when properly executed, horror stories can thrill audiences and even provide commentary on the human condition.

Horror Subgenres

1. Apocalyptic - In this subgenre, the world is ending or society is collapsing. When this happens, it’s usually because of some creature, demon, or religious event (while climate-oriented apocalypses are more sci-fi).

2. Body Horror - Involves the mutilation, experimentation, or violation of the human body. It can focus on disease, dismemberment, infestation, sexual acts, or a complete transformation of the physical form.

3. Comedy - Horror and comedy seem so at odds with each other, but they work so well together (kind of like spice and chocolate). A trademark of comedy horror is how the protagonist somewhat stumbles through the story, arriving at the end through luck and ridiculous happenstance rather than skill or growth.

4. Cosmic/Lovecraftian - With its origins largely attributed to H.P. Lovecraft, cosmic horror makes us feel small against a threat that is ancient, massive, and incomprehensible. Cosmic horror looks at intergalactic entities, ancient gods, the machinations of the universe, and how helpless we are against it all.

5. Dark Fantasy - Another crossover, this time with the fantasy genre. In dark fantasy, you have elements of magic, fictional creatures or worlds, and everything else that makes fantasy great, plus you add in a good dose of scares. This can also involve other subgenres, like body horror.

6. Dark Romance - Another crossover genre, dark romance takes the feel-good romance genre and makes it horrific. While this subgenre can simply include morally questionable characters and a grittier tone than most romance, it can also include kidnapping, forced confinement, BDSM, psychological and physical abuse, and sexual violence or sex where there is no consent. Bear in mind that it still needs to include the tenants of romance stories, though.

7. Extreme Gore - Not for the faint of heart, this subgenre includes books that have detailed torture scenes or otherwise disturbing and depraved acts. This genre is all about shocking your audience with how awful your characters act or are treated.

8. Folk Horror - Embraces urban legends and folktales. These range from old pagan gods in the woods to weird rituals performed by isolated groups or villages. Sometimes there is a supernatural element to them, even if the “supernatural” is simply perceived or believed by some characters (e.g., Midsommar).

9. Found Footage/Documentaries - Though this subgenre is more common in films than books, found footage and documentary horror stories are about a crew of people recording their experiences, usually unaware of the true danger they are about to face.

10. Gothic - The great-grandparent of modern horror, gothic horror is the brooding, atmospheric genre containing what most of us would consider classics (e.g., Dracula and Frankenstein). Sometimes you throw in a dash of romance, but these tales tackle topics like death and mortality.

11. Post-Apocalyptic - After some world-ending disaster, how horrifying have things become? Post-apocalyptic horror shows us a world without rules or structure. It can contain unrealistic elements (zombies, demons, etc.) or realistic possibilities (cannibals, gangs, and so on).

12. Psychological - Places the spotlight on trauma, mental health, manipulation, phobias, and everything else that causes you to become stressed and anxious. Home invasion stories (i.e., The Strangers) fall under this subgenre.

13. Slasher - Involves violent horror that is more about a single killer stalking and eventually killing a group of people (traditionally targeting teens and using a blade). This subgenre isn’t necessarily as violent or gory as others, but uses suspense to make the reader hold their breath.

14. Splatterpunk - Is known for its disregard of limits when it comes to violence—both physical and sexual. Gore and depravity are grossly abundant.

15. Supernatural/Paranormal - Some folks separate these two subgenres into different categories, but there is so much overlap that they’re basically the same. If you have to, think of supernatural horror as stories that involve werewolves, witches, vampires, and other monsters. Paranormal horror, on the other hand, involves ghosts, demons, and haunted houses.

Tips for Writing Horror

1. Read more horror. There’s no better way to understand what a good story looks like than to read one for yourself. Read as much as you can so you are aware of what other horror writers are doing.

2. Focus on your own fears. Much like comedy, horror benefits from authenticity. So get personal: If you can scare yourself, you can probably scare an audience.

3. Create three-dimensional characters. Write characters whose character flaws feed the action of the story. All good literature and film contains well-wrought characters with desires, emotions, and a backstory. The more human you make the characters of your story or screenplay, the more their missteps and bad choices will resonate with an audience.

4. Recognize that the real can be scarier than the surreal. Sure, you can make up an army of googly-eyed bad guys or plant a severed head in your main character’s bed, but will you really scare your reader? Not necessarily. In most cases, psychological horror sticks with audiences far longer than a jump scare or gross-out moment in a slasher film. Toying with people’s real-life fears tends to scare them much more than just grossing them out.

5. Use the environment. Scary movies and television shows can use jump-scares as an easy way to frighten an audience, but writing scary literature requires its own method of manifesting fear. Setup your environment in a vivid way to fully immerse your readers into your setting. Vividly describing an enclosed space can elicit feelings of claustrophobia. A dark and quiet house becomes more frightening when a character suddenly hears the creak of an upstairs floorboard. Being an outsider in an unfamiliar place, like a small town with no cell phone service and where everyone knows each other, is already unsettling—and if you add a malicious paranormal force to such a setting, you can enhance the feeling of isolation and ramp up the anxiety of the scenario.

6. Write longer sentences. You can heighten your readers’ fear by writing paragraphs with longer sentences. Periods provide natural pauses for readers to take a breath, but if you stretch out your sentences, you build anticipation for the reader—which they might not even realize until they reach the end of the sentence. By using tactics like this, you immerse the reader into your horror story, making them feel what the main character feels and creating a heart-pounding connection.

7. Make your readers breathe faster. Whereas long sentences can amplify the intensity of a story, short one-sentence paragraphs can force your readers to take more frequent breaths while following your narrative. Crafting abrupt lines builds tension in your scary story writing, making the readers’ eyes move more quickly down the page searching for the relief that the protagonist is safe. This can make your audience breathe faster, contributing to the feeling of panic and anxiety.

8. Leverage fear of the unknown. Fear of the unknown is a common theme that can be tracked throughout many of the best stories in horror fiction and horror movies. When there is something that negatively affects us that we cannot control or properly identify, it creates a feeling of panic and dread. Teasing your readers with something not quite definable or a bad guy no one knows how to stop can increase the level of tension and fear when writing horror stories.

9. Lean into dark imagery and your readers’ collective imagination. Consider what images might be frightening to a reader (and yourself). How much of a description of a clown do you need in order to make a reader feel uneasy? How large and grotesque does a rat need to be? Leaving some of these images more general than specific will allow a reader to fill in the blanks with what is most horrifying to them. Example: If you read the word beast, what do you see in your imagination? Most words carry connotations and personal connections. Allow your words to work for you to create the maximum scare.

10. Want tension? Sprinkle in some foreshadowing. Foreshadowing is a powerful tool in your writing arsenal, but it is particularly effective in horror, especially when writing in third person. Foreshadowing is when an author alludes to a future event by showing us something now. The key to foreshadowing is to use it sparingly. We want to up the tension and the fear our readers are experiencing while they yell at the oblivious protagonist not to open the door. We don’t want the reader to know every single thing that’s going to happen. 

11. Focus on the moment where things shift. You should consider a pivotal scene in your story idea and try to build around that scene or that moment where the plot actually “shifts.” Sometimes that could be reflected in a realization by the protagonist. Other times it can be represented in some type of ironic twist at the end. By looking at that singular element of your story idea, you cut away the fat so that the reader is left only with the most resonant part of the story.

12. Establish the mundane. Mundane is just a fancy way of saying normal, but the message still rings true. Most story structures tell you to start by establishing the Ordinary World: what our protagonist’s normal life is like. This is important for showing us how important the larger conflict is, because it threatens the protagonist’s normal. In horror, establishing the mundane is arguably more important. In a story where connecting with the character and empathizing with them over the godawful stuff you, the author, put them through, the reader needs to understand just how bad life has gotten. Then you can take both your characters and your reader from a place of comfort and familiarity and plunge them into whatever shadowy hell you’ve concocted.

13. Choosing your POV. By choosing to write your story from a first-person perspective, you are putting the reader exactly where your character is. There are 2 types of third-person POV—limited and omniscient. It is advisable to stay away from omniscient. Part of writing a good horror story is withholding information from the reader, which third-person omniscient doesn’t really allow for. Considering the pros and cons of the different points of view, choose the right one for your story.

14. Avoid clichés. Clichés are boring and predictable, and a horror scene that is predictable is likely to not be scary. A good horror story can still use familiar horror tropes, but a great horror story makes them its own. Look beyond the obvious when trying to write a scary scene—what is something readers wouldn’t expect? How can you surprise them with fear? Use enough of the existing tropes to be identifiable as horror, but make sure you insert your own originality into the mix. One of the reasons people gravitate to genres in general is because they have certain expectations for what should happen in the story. Look for ways to flip archetypes on their heads.

15. Practice. If you’re struggling to get a handle on writing a good story that’s scary, practice with story prompts (see some sample prompts below). Writing prompts can expand your range of thinking and open up new avenues of imagination that you hadn’t thought of before.

Horror Writing Prompts

A scary doll comes to life.

A scene from a nightmare comes true the next day.

Days go by, and your parents don’t come home.

You feel yourself slowly becoming a monster.

Your friends start to disappear, and no one else notices.

You’re lost in the woods, and you don’t know how you got there.

You’re inhabited by a ghost that controls you and makes you do crazy things.

You have no reflection in the mirror.

The teacher is a monster, but no one will believe you.

You hypnotize your brother, and you can’t snap him out of it.

A fortune teller reveals that you are evil.

Someone follows you home, and it’s your exact double.

You find a diary that tells the future.

Every time you wake up, you’re a different person.

Your parents explain that you are actually an alien from another planet.

You know someone is watching you day and night from the house across the street.

You realize you are shrinking.

While reading a scary book, you realize that you’re a character in it.

Someone is living in your mirror.

Everyone knows the new neighbors are vampires, and the kids invite you over for a sleepover.

All the cats in a small town vanish in the middle of the night….and all that remains is a set of big, scary teeth smashed into a car door.

A group of friends takes on the zombie apocalypse.

Strange things start happening after the grandfather clock starts to speak.

You finally meet your child’s imaginary friend. Who turns out to be a serial killer.

When a local police officer goes to investigate the haunted house down the street, he finds a young girl who died decades ago.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6

[pro-mammonologist]

Things that are canon because I said so:

- Lucifer has only ever broken down a total of three times and all three times were in the presence of Mammon and no one else

- Satan goes out of his way to find human folktales about demons and figuring out if they’re true or not

- Mammon thinks science is really cool but he’s a little stupid so it cancels out

- Beel sends recipes to Mc when they’re in the human world so they can make them and freeze them and then send them to him but Mc had to explain it doesn’t work that way and it would rot or just be gross

- asmo is the brothers matchmakers he is the reason for 90% of their relationships

- asmo has tried to have sex with Barbatos repeatedly but has never ever ever succeeded

- Diavolo definitely has gone to Devildom orgies and just watched for fun

- diavolo has seen Asmo at way too many

- demons can’t get stds but angels can

- demons are fertile on their periods opposed to humans

- Satan reads about human history and has a great understanding of human stuff but somehow Levi ends up knowing more because of anime

- Mammon gets angel, demon, and human history mixed up “Whaddya mean demons didn’t have an Adolf Hitler??? He killed lots of people right???”

- Belphie steals pillows from Lucifer’s room all the time

- Mammon has tried every single psychedelic in creation, remembers practically none of them

- Lucifer has Asmo color his grays for him, his pride won’t let him go to a salon

- Lucifer also plucks grays he has in his eyebrows or uses makeup

- Levi knows obscure human animes but doesn’t know the popular ones???? But Mammon has watched the popular ones… (Levi refused to watch the popular ones because Mammon watched them first)

- Barbatos likes to take ice baths to sooth himself

- Diavolo thinks it’s terrifying Barbatos likes ice baths

- Simeon shares Lucifer stories in exchange for good grades with Diavolo (no one knows but dia)

- Solomon secretly stalked Lucifer when he first decided he wanted to make a pact, because of that, he knows Lucifer’s habits better than Lucifer

- Lucifer has secretly been paranoid he’s been watched all this time but he has thought it was his father or Michael, not Solomon

- Michael frequently writes letters to the brothers but never sends them and Simeon is this close to stealing them and bringing them to the brothers

- Lucifer would let the brothers get a pet if Mc asked but actually because he secretly wants one

- Mammon pretends like he’s the big speed racer fan and would totally do it himself but his older brother instincts kick in when he goes past the speed limit by .1737382 miles

- Lucifer is convinced Mammon can’t drive but Mammon is convinced Lucifer can’t drive and both are backseat drivers

- Mammon used to dine and dash until he worked in a restaurant… yeah he doesn’t do that at all anymore

- finally, all of the brothers have this secret part of the hol that they think no one else knows about but they actually all use the same space just ALWAYS at different times

[fatuismooches]

Imagine the 3.8 Secret Summer Paradise event but with Wanderer and you. Nahida sends Wanderer to investigate something in the desert and you tag along for fun but you two get sucked into a magic bottle somehow?! Klee dubs his title as the “Sorcerer” - her mage sidekick - and yours as the “Soldier” - her protecter! (Or whatever you want, I’m bad at this.)

The rollercoasters are nothing compared to Wanderer’s flights of fright. He will do loops, twists, turns, upside downs in the air all while holding YOU… at least in the rollercoaster there are seats. Klee is amazed by your endurance and wants to try flying too! (Wanderer reluctantly gives her a piggy back ride and flies a safe distance up from the ground… Kaeya’s watching him very carefully, but you vehemently reassure him that Wanderer would never hurt a child. The cavalry captain actually grows to like him!) Though you manage to convince Wanderer to ride a slow rollercoaster with you. There’s no one else in the Choo-Choo Cart, and it’s late at night. Wanderer lays on your lap as you play with his hair, the both of you silent as you stare out the window, taking in the lovely sights of this realm.

Idyia’s quite scared of Wanderer at first but overtime she comes to fawn over and admire how deep your love is, she’s met many people in her little bottle, but no one has ever had a relationship like yours! Not to mention, Zosimos takes inspiration from the two of you for his characters. And speaking of plays, I think despite the fact the one the group acted out had poor plot, Wanderer finds joy in it, because I believe he likes the arts/dance/performances, and also he found Klee’s acting endearing. (When Kaeya runs out of stories for her, Wanderer takes over and tells her Inazuman folktales!)

Collei is extremely nervous speaking to Wanderer, but finds herself liking him more than she expected. She feels like she can… relate to him, for some strange reason? She doesn’t really understand, since she’s never met him before, but she doesn’t question it. Plus, she knows you’re a really nice person, so you wouldn’t date someone who’s mean, anyway. Eula is suspicious of him at first too, but seeing Collei warm up to him makes her tolerate him, while Kokomi finds the stranger very interesting. She has a few chats with Wanderer, and the things he says about Inazuma has her only more curious. The most important part is, Klee wants to be the flower girl at your wedding, whenever that happens.

Moving on, Wanderer has a soft spot for the Hydro Eidolons because they remind him a bit of the Aranara. He acts all annoyed when they want to play hide and seek with him but secretly he enjoys it (and you’re enjoying his fervent denial at being soft.) You two play all of the games together, although Wanderer is less enthusiastic about it than you (as usual of course) but he actually enjoys Bing-Bang Finchball! :3 (He wonders if his creator and that kitsune would like it, too.) Most of all, Wanderer especially enjoys the solitude he gets at certain places of the realm. Sometimes you’re with him, sometimes you’re not, but when you are, during these moments he’s oddly quiet and clingy. Sometimes he still struggles to accept his life and what he’s been through. But making memories like these with you make him happy.

At the end of your stay, when you have to bury a treasure to leave behind, you put in two dolls of Wanderer and you that you quickly made in the mirage! (Wanderer had taught you how to make them that nicely.) You didn’t show your lover at first, a bit embarrassed and scared of his reaction, but he found out anyway and sighed, but pulled down his hat to cover his blush. He flew you to a beautiful spot with the best view, and you two buried it together. You wonder if it would still be there if you ever visited again.

Even after many years pass, Idyia never fails to tell the engrossing tale of the grouchy puppet and his darling lover, an unlikely but loving couple. Maybe if you’re lucky, you could meet them spending their days strolling the streets of Sumeru with the young Archon.

Overall, an unplanned but very necessary vacation that Wanderer needed. Nahida had a blast listening to all of your stories! (And happy he has made some more friends, which he of course denies that accusation.) 

[eggroll-sama]

Question: if the TS Cast existed in the real world, what nationality do you think they’d be?

This is my headcanon:

*A lot of it is based off of food they like 💀💀💀 but bare with me. This idea has been brewing in my mind a lot and I gotta get it out there.

Ais: Japanese. I think this is the most obvious one. The Shinto gates, the red oni horns, he drinks green tea, the yukata he wears. Also there’s a possibility that Ocudeus was inspired by the ancient Japanese kraken called Akkorokamui of Ainu, but that’s just my prediction. I also see him as a Wasian. Maybe I’m projecting my biracialness hehe.

(More under the cut)

Leander: German. This one I’m a little “???” on but he’s a heavy drinker and I know beer is an iconic beverage in Germany. Legal drinking age is also 14 with adult supervision. Also according to this by the amazing @eridiasangel, Leander likes hashbrowns, and potato is a staple food in Germany. Then there’s the magic flowers symbolism and it reminds of the movie Tangled inspired by the German folktale.

Kuras: Egyptian or Iraqi! I’m basing this off his design choice, but also Eridia is heavily inspired from Arabian/Islamic architecture so if we assume Kuras was the “founding father” of Eridia, than I think it’s safe to assume he is of that descent irl. There’s also the House of Knowledge in Egypt and House of Wisdom in Baghdad so it fits him perfectly.

Edit: thanks to anon who informed me Arabian is actually an ethnolinguistic group!! 👍

Mhin: Chinese. I’m basing this off of this TS post. Many people think it’s the Chinese food, Tang Yuan. Other than that I’m kinda 🧍‍♀️on this one. I could also see them being European cuz they give gothic, Victorian vibes.

Edit: also their name reminds me of the Chinese name, Min, which means “quick” and “clever”

Vere: I am really stuck on Vere, but I have to say Filipino maybe Taiwanese cuz it’s canon he likes Fruit Oolong Tea.

What do you guys think? Do you agree or have another nationality in mind for them?

[laurasimonsdaughter]

I'm musing on how most riddles in folktales really do not behave like what we consider riddles today. Because they usually fall into one of these categories:

● A cryptic question referring to something that actually happened and only the asker could know the answer to. Like in the Grimms' "The Riddle", where a prince asks a princess this: "What killed none, and yet killed twelve." The answer is a particular raven, which ingested poisoned meat and was then cooked into soup, eaten by twelve robbers who immediately died from it. (This is also called a "neck riddle" because it often shows up in stories where winning the riddle contest saves the protagonist's neck.)

● A cryptic question that has a metaphorical answer, but which could technically have many correct answers, not just one. Like the riddles posed in the ballad "Riddles Wisely Expounded", one of which is "What is louder than the horn?" with the answer "Thunder is louder than the horn."

● An apparently "impossible task" instead of a question. Like in Joseph Jacobs' "The Clever Lass" in which the king orders a clever farmer's daughter to "come to him clothed, yet unclothed, neither walking, nor driving, nor riding, neither in shadow nor in sun." So she undresses and wraps herself in her long hair, attaches a net to the tail of a hose and lets herself be dragged to the castle while holding a sieve over her head to shield her from the sun. (This type of contradiction riddle even shows up in the Mabinogi.)

Of course it matters what role the riddles play in the tale. Usually it's not about the riddle at all, it's just about the protagonist proving how clever and/or witty they are. And in case of the neck riddles, the audience usually also knows the answer, because they know what happened to the protagonist earlier in the story, so the audience gets the pleasure of being smarter than the antagonist.

In the originally Persian tale "Turandot" cryptic questions with (I would say) multiple answers are mixed with something that feels more like a riddle with one "proper answer". For example: "What mother resides on earth, who swallows all her children." The answer is: "The sea, she swallows every stream and river that has ever sprung from her." But I feel like whenever I encounter a "classic" riddle with one proper answer, that usually rhymes, it's either from Greek Mythology (boy did they love a riddling verse), or it a modern riddle added in the retelling...

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

okay as promised last night it is TIME. for an incomplete collection of some Orsimer wedding thoughts. let's go

- the traditional Orcish wedding is held so that the formal ceremony occurs precisely at midnight. however there are a number of festivities both before and after, which means the wedding event itself lasts typically sundown to sunup. this DOES lead to some confusion from people not familiar with Orcish custom about which day anniversaries are celebrated, often to the baffled response: "you only celebrate one day?"

- this means it's common to choose an autumn or winter night as the period for celebration is longer. getting married on the summer solstice with the shortest night of the year would be an ill omen and suggest a lack of investment in the success of the marriage. the winter solstice's LONGEST night of the year however is a very coveted choice. many a dramatic falling-out has occurred over someone setting their wedding date ahead of another pair

- the traditional wedding color is red, though other bright vivid hues are occasionally worn as well. contrary to the general assumption by non-Orcs that the red is meant to evoke the blood of battle, it's actually representative of the vitality, new life, and prosperity wished upon the union. and also it's pretty :)

- the ceremony itself involves handfasting with a three-stranded cloth that is then braided to represent the strengthening of everyone involved by the act of joining together, with one strand each representing half of the couple and the third strand representing the community. the braided cloth might be kept on for anywhere from a few minutes to the rest of the night - for a while it was popular to see how long you could go without unbinding, but usually at some point in the night it comes off... and it's better when it's intentionally unbound so that you don't lose track of it 😬

- because the festivities take place at night, it's common to have outdoor weddings situated around a large bonfire. clever use of a screen and elaborate hand gestures = shadow puppet storytelling, generally tales about the newlyweds by close family members or friends which are highly exaggerated for comedic effect (though wealthier couples may hire professional storytelling actors to perform a favorite folktale or two)

- DANCING... so much dancing!! the musicians typically change through the night so one group is not performing for hours and hours on end, and so everybody gets to join the rest of the festivities if they so choose. it's considered bad luck for the wedding couple to participate in the dancing until after the ceremony, when they lead the first dance post-midnight together

- and the food!!! wedding food is lavish and there's a lot of it - slow-roasted meat and seasonal vegetables, plenty of cheeses, dense cakes, and so on. the wedding couple may fast during the day; this makes the food taste that much better once sundown hits, and also allows them to partake of a little bit of everything: it's considered a minor faux pas for the guests to eat a dish the wedding couple hasn't had first

- by the time the sun comes up the venue is usually a mess. the wedding couple is not officially expected to lead the clean-up efforts in the morning, but it's become a fairly widespread gesture of expressing that the dedication of commitment here is not only to each other, but to the community as well!

[captainmera]

Words can't describe how much I love your modern au for the folktale trio. As always your Evelyn is the skrunkly scrimbo of all time, and Caleb as an exhausted barista is just perfect. Any lore you care to share about this au?

Sure! :D

And thank you! Haha, it's rather fun actually! And yes, skrunkly little powerhouse, there she goes. :3

Modern AU character synopses and plot ideas(?) Under cut!

EVELYN:

Evelyn is fighting with her mum and runs away to live in an abandoned tower. Now that she's trying to live independently, her older sisters advise her to become a bounty hunter (since she's so powerful, it should be easy! ..probably!)

And, because she's got a special interest in the human realm, she dives head first into chasing criminals who try to hide there.

Evelyn basically does what Eda was doing after she lost most of her magical power. Having to do odd jobs and hunt bounties. Except, for Ev, she takes jobs she can do in the human realm. She finds collectables to sell to shops (like tibbles), and hunts bounties.

She also tries to figure out why Gravesfield got so many little portal holes? It's as if someone in Gravesfield is opening them.. hm!

CALEB:

Caleb is a struggling barista at the coffee shop, who's raising his little brother and had to drop out of high school to work.

He's depressed, hates everything, and one sad night he uncovers a demon disguised as a human - who tries to kill him. He's rescued by a "local" strange and homeless girl (Evelyn), and he has now made himself enemy number one to a criminal gang by picking up a magical item (a disc with a moon on it) from the now-beaten-and-captured demon.

He still likes to carve wood, and is a bit of a shy artist. He doesn't believe his figurines or wood artwork is of any worth or interest.

He's also a closeted bisexual who wants to be out but terrified of being shunned from the community (the church) that helped him when he was/is struggling financially. He owes them a lot of gratitude for getting him his low-wage job and birthday/Christmas gifts for Philip via their support programs. As well as their poverty support.

He feels very indebt to the church (and they kind of use it against him too) and he feels stuck.

PHILIP:

Philip, the school weirdo who will not shut up about ghosts and demons. He runs a mewtube vlog about demonic beings and monsters. His online name is "Belos." (Think in the lines on Dipper Pines from Gravity Falls, but with a bit more self-importance and confidence)

He's got no irl friends, loves horror video games and listens to the soundtrack from Zombie Deer the musical on repeat.

Philip makes his own ghost hunting gear, and goes exploring old abandoned places to hunt ghosts, try to summon demons, open portals, etc. To his knowledge, it has never worked...... to his knowledge, that is.

THE WITTEBANE BROTHERS:

Their parents are dead. Caleb stepped up to the role, and it's a lot to deal with. The brothers never talk about their parents. Their house (like the Noceda home) is full of pictures and half-finished projects. The brothers are in grief limbo. Caleb avoids and just keeps-calm-and-carries-on, Philip uses escapism and secludes himself.

Caleb has been gut punched hard by life's reality-check fists and has not recovered. He's more or less she'd and dropped his hobies and dreams because "that's just life, rat-girl. You either adjust and fit in, or, buh-bye!"

He unfortunately takes this pessimistic and depressive attitude out on Philip, creating a divide between the brothers. (Like Camila and Luz, except Caleb is less gentle about it)

Caleb wants Philip to start living in the hard, real world. Philip, however, wants to stay frozen in the fantasy that; if ghosts are real, then their parents aren't truly gone, and things can go back to how it was before. Kind of. Almost.

"How it was before" being him and Caleb watching monster movies together, where Caleb was just an older brother and not an adult-too-soon that boss him around. "Before" being when Caleb was happy, and didn't sit up late at night reading bills and planning the next meal with coupons.

Philip doesn't want to be the "normal" Caleb asks of him, because to him; that normal doesn't exist anymore.

While Caleb tries to conform too much to his new hopeless mindset that he has no control at all, anyway, so why fight it at all?

Philip is turning 15 soon.

FOLKLORE TRIO DYNAMIC

After saving him, and introducing him to a whole new reality of witches, demons and magic.. Caleb loses his marbles a little. Life is more nuanced than he thought - maybe he's not so stuck after all. Maybe there's alternatives?

Evelyn needs a human guide, and in exchange for his help, he gets jewels he can trade in for cash. And he gladly shakes her hand on that.

Now he's got money for bills, food, and necessities, and he can even save money for Philip to go to college. This is going to be Calebs birthday present to Philip. To give him the future and life he never could have.

Evelyn is happy to have a guide, and friend. But as she becomes closer friends with the Wittebane brothers, she discovers there's trouble in the household.

Philip is also suspicious of her. To him, and the locals of Gravesfield, she's a crazy homeless girl who chases random citizens yelling about them being demon criminals. As well as stealing miscellaneous things from dumpsters. Like broken toasters and yoga mats.

A girl whom Caleb has befriended because she ate his customers' leftovers. Philip is less than keen on their budding friendship, and his brother's apparent crush on her. Philip, in the beginning, feels like she's taking advantage of Caleb’s good heart. But discovers soon enough that she's actually really nice, and is more than happy to talk about demons and magic with him.

ANTAGONIST PLOT: EVELYNS MUM.

Ev is a powerful witch, but has a bailsack condition where the sack is too large (that's why she's a powerhouse), but it has a physical affect on her. She can get lethargic or "turn gray" as she calls it (like when a basilisk sucks a witch empty on magic)

Evelyn wants to be a researcher and an author. She wants to learn from the human realm and use their inventions and adaptability to help the demon realm.

Evelyn's mum doesn't want her to go her own way.

Despite knowing her daughter's condition, she still wants her to utilise her power. She's trying to turn Ev to various plant-magic corporations to make mass production of crops, to help fight the famines.

Evelyn wants to understand how humans do things because they have no magic and they still sustain somehow.

She has a hard time arguing with her mother. She wants to appease her (find a human invention replacenent) and also go her own way. But it's just not how things goes.

Caleb becomes Evelyn's one defender and protector.

While standing up for her, he also realises hiw he's been treating Philip. Telling him who to be and how to fit in, instead ofvtrying to understand why Philip needs to escape into his hoby so much.

Evelyn's mother does not like Caleb, and doesn't like how the human is able to bark back to her - armed with reason and solid arguments, too.

She's been trying to guilt Evelyn into shouldering the whole world, more or less, by making her sacrifice her happinessand well being to keep famine away.

Which, obviously, hits Caleb close to home. And he makes an enemy out of Mrs.Clawthorne.

Mrs.Clawthorne wants Calebs influence on Evelyn gone. Caleb must be removed.

She discovers that there's someone else who doesn't like Caleb, and wants to get him (caleb got their disc after all.) And strikes a deal with them.

ATAGONIST PLOT: THE DISC

Evelyn takes both the brothers to her realm at some point, to hide them from the criminal that has it in for Caleb. Not knowing her mother is assisting the criminal.

In exchange of getting rid of Caleb, they can have the disc.

This is when Pip and Ev discovers that Caleb HAS the disc in the first place. And has been using it as a mirror decor in his bedroom. To him, it was just a keepsake from the first time he met Evelyn, and to commemorate that the night actually happened.

Philip has, at that point, gathered enough knowledge to know what the disc actually is: from what he knows, it supposedly grants wishes?

And he wants to use it to bring their parents back.

--------------

AND THAT'S ABOUT IT SO FAR?? :,D

[axelsagewrites]

Heya this is kind of Robb Stark but more of a friendship one where y/n is Robbs wife (Robert Baratheons only real child and is very nice a sweet and was in a arranged marriage to Robb but fell In love. She is famous for being beautiful has songs written about her and all that jazz)and it’s when Caytlen comes to camp with Brienne of Tarth and y/n is kind of amazed by her and finds her very beautiful. They end up having a conversation where y/n compliments her but Brienne thinks she’s joking but y/n is quick to correct her. y/n gives her a very encouraging speech about how she admires her . Not that Brienne would show it but she’s very touched by it and grows a soft spot for y/n just a very nice moment. If you don’t do these types of pens that’s fine ❤️

Queen in the North and South

Main Pairing: Platonic Brienne x f!reader

Second Pairing: Romantic Robb x f!reader

Summary: Brienne and the reader discuss to pros and cons of beauty and where to find it

Warnings: Mentions of creepy men

Word count: 2842

Masterlist Here

When you first arrived at Winterfell you were hesitant of your new life being forced upon you but soon grew to love it. In Kingslanding you had felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. You didn’t share the same Lannister locks with your siblings nor your mother’s affiliation with wine. As your father’s oldest child, he adored you but as you grew, he began to show you off and flaunt you to the lords around.

“Gather round my lords and see the greatest beauty in all of Westeros!” He would cheer drunk on his ale and those around would join in. over time you learned to hide your embarrassment at the attention, and the glares your mother would give you for it and smiled politely. Men would come to court simply to play the songs they wrote for you, or lords would attempt to rhyme off pretty sonnets in your honour. It felt nice to be loved but as you grew you noticed the lust in many eyes and began to feel disgust.

But you smiled politely like you did when you first met Robb. He was of course very handsome himself; a true Tully look about him with all the Stark courage and honour. However, you tried not to obsess over looks like many had done with you and insisted on getting to know him as a person.

As it turned out Robb was more interesting than you first assumed however far too trusting of people. Something you tried to educate him on. Robb was just relieved that his wife was not just a pretty face, not that he complained about your looks since he adored them. Once you were wed you began to talk late into the night, discussing opinions and having debates. even when you told him his opinion was wrong, he couldn’t help but smile at the way you delivered the punch line.

You had learned one thing from your mother and that was that you wanted to be the opposite of her in every way. In Kingslanding you would often venture into the city to teach the small folk how to read or hear their folktales. It was how you first heard the songs they sang about you. The beauty of all the kingdoms. That’s what they called you and it meant so much more from then that it did the lords at court.

In Winterfell you spent time meeting and talking to everyone and anyone you could. Often you played hide and seek with the younger Starks and Sansa flocked to you like a mother hen. You also managed to gain the favour of many lords and ladies in the North as the South had taught you what to say and how.

When Ned Stark died it was not just the Young Wolf they rode out for and died for. It was you. While northerners cheered for Robb to be their king, Kingslanding silently begged for you their true queen to return and take the throne from your monster of a brother. You had even received letters from Dorne backing your claim. The king in the north and queen in the south.

However, you weren’t the only one who had a claim, a claim you had yet to announce you were fighting for to the world. Renly Baratheon also believed himself king. You couldn’t understand your uncles reasoning in the slightest. Stannis’s claim was the only logical one if Joffrey was a bastard and the lords sought a king not a queen. Why not join Stannis as his heir? Then you could never quite understand your uncle.

You hoped Lady Catelyn would however when she left to see his camp. Robb had insisted you did not go meet your uncle personally. While you had not announced your claim many rumours flew around about it and Robb was not prepared to send his wife off to a camp filled with your rivals’ men. Despite your marriage being a political one it had grown into love and admiration for each other. Little did Tywin know that it was not politically wise for him when he suggested it to your father who jumped at the chance to join houses with the Starks.

Every night she was gone you prayed for Catelyn’s return and your men’s safety so when you saw her arrive back at camp you began to thank them profusely. However, she returned with an extra man at her side. Or woman you should say.

Brienne of Tarth stood tall beside Catelyn, her hand always close to her sword. You were tending to the wounded when she arrived and did not have time to meet her just yet but as you gazed at her from across the camp you saw her eyes turn to you. when your eyes met you smiled and gave her a small wave. She was beautiful. Not in the typical sense you knew. But she was.

Robb was the one to tell you more about her. “Wait she was in his Kings guard? Like a knight?” You asked as you walked with your husband to the food area of your camp.

“Not a knight darling,” Robb had his hand linked with yours which kept your other free to wave to the Lords and soldiers who waved at you. even during war, they admired your elegance. “But she was his guard apparently. She beat Loras Tyrell in the tourney,”

“That couldn’t have been hard,” you joked, “that boy was all spindly legs when I saw him last,”

“He’s one of the best knights in the Kingdom,” Robbs laughed made your stomach flutter the same way it had the first night you met, “I don’t even know if I believe that she did,”

“I can believe it,”

“You see the good in everyone love,”

You snorted at his words as you took a bowl of stew from one of the men, “No,” you retorted as Robb got his own, raising an eyebrow at your words, “I just don’t announce my distrust to the world. Have I taught you noting?” you teased.

Robb rolled his eyes with a smile. You glanced over to where Brienne was sat alone and foodless. “You wanna go sit with her, don’t you?” he asked, and you nodded sheepishly, “Go on, make some friends,” Robb chuckled as he handed you another bowl of stew to give to the woman, “I’m gonna go eat with Lord Karstarks to talk battle plans,”

“Okay have fun, if that’s possible,” You grinned. Robb rolled his eyes before pressing a brief kiss to your lips and walking away.

You turned your attention to Brienne who was whitling a piece of wood with a knife. You smiled and nodded to all the men as you walked across the camp to where she sat on a log. “May I join you lady Brienne?” you smiled as you held out the bowl to her.

Brienne looked up quickly, her eyes wide, “It’s just Brienne. I’m no lady. I’m sure you would enjoy someone else’s company more your grace,” she said. You held the bowl out further his she finally took, “Thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” you said before sitting on the log beside her, Brienne looking at you as if she had three heads, “I thought your father was lord tarth?” you mused as you began to eat your stew, handing Brienne a spare spoon for hers.

Her eyes faltered between yours and the food, “Um he is,” she started as she turned her attention to stare into the camp, “I am a lady by birth right your grace but not by actions,”

“Life would be far more interesting if there were more ladies like you,”

“You don’t know me your grace,”

“Then what do I need to know?” you asked as you set your spoon down. “I’m all ears,”

Reluctantly Brienne began to tell you her life so far though not the personal bits of course. She told you how she found herself at Renly’s camp, how she fought for him, swore an oath to him, and became a king’s guard. You laughed at her stories, a genuine laugh that touched Brienne as you actually seemed to care. perhaps it was fake she thought. Perhaps that’s why people sang songs about you.

None the less she decided to enjoy your company at least for dinner, “It was about time someone knocked down Loras a leg or two. When I was eight, he spilled his father’s wine all down my dress because I told him his hair was ugly,”

Brienne couldn’t stop herself from laughing at your antics, “Maybe you shouldn’t have insulted him,”

“Oh, im sure he started it,” you joked as you set the now empty bowl on the ground, “if not him then it was defiantly Margaery. I refuse to accept it was my fault,” Normally Brienne would judge your words but the way you laughed made it clear unlike many you could handle a joke.

Something she appreciated as you laughed at hers. “I must say your grace you’re not what I expected from the songs,”

You groaned at her words, “Oh gods what do they sing about me over there?”

Brienne laughed at your fake agony, “Just the usual. That you’re beautiful and kind,”

“Have I offended you?” you joked turning to face her straight on, “Have I not been kind?”

Brienne flushed at your words, “Forgive me your grace. It’s just most Ladies I know aren’t as kind as you,”

“Or you,” you agreed, “Then again, I’ve never met another lady like you. it’s refreshing honestly. And for the record I hate those songs,” You confessed your longest running lie to a stranger, but Brienne moral code was stronger than the Starks.

“How can you hate being called beautiful?” she asked, and you could feel the resentment from her. the same feeling you got from many other ladies who would push you as a child or gossip about you as an adult.

You sighed as you placed your arms on your knees to lean forward, thinking before you spoke, “When Robb calls me beautiful I feel a warm feeling in me that spreads across me like a love struck plague,” you began, recalling the butterflies you had felt the first time he kissed your hand when you met. “The first time I heard one of those songs yes sure it made me feel good. Then I saw the way the lords would look at me. Then I heard what they sang and said when they thought I wasn’t around. They didn’t view me as a person,” you sighed as you recalled all the pervy comments and creepy stares.

“Im sorry you had to deal with that my lady,” Brienne placed her hand on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You turned your head to look at her and sat back up, “it’s not your fault. Besides everyone’s beautiful in their own way,” you mused.

Brienne barked out a laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong my lady,”

“You can find beauty everywhere. All you need to do is look,” you said as you looked out over the camp. “See him over there? With the dried blood covering his face?” you nodded towards one of the Karstarks boys and Brienne couldn’t help but noted how the battles must have harmed his face, “He has the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. Better than all the singers in Kingslanding and him,” you nodded towards another unassuming man by the fire, “Whittles these wooden figures that have so much detail and grace in every carving. Even him,” you nodded at the most closed off, grumpy one of your fighters who constantly looked ready to spit on someone, “has the biggest most beautiful smile when he laughs. Just because you can’t see the beauty at first glance doesn’t mean it’s not there,”

Brienne looked around the camp at all the different men and how they spoke, laughed, and moved. “Do you know all of your men?” she asked.

“I try to,” you answered as you took both your dirty dishes to take to be washed but one of your men stopped you to take them from you, “Thank you lord Umber,” you smiled at him before turning back to Brienne, “People respond far better to kindness than cruelness,”

“It’s a shame that most find it easier to be cruel than kind,” Brienne said as you both continued to walk around the camp. She enjoyed your company more than she’d like to admit.

You glanced to where Catelyn sat alone with her food in deep thought, “Hurt people hurt. While it does dismiss their actions it can help to explain them,”

“I suppose,” Brienne agreed, “But it’s hard not to hate them for it,”

“I know. trust me,” you said as you linked your arm with the woman who flinched initially at your touch. However, Brienne found comfort in the way you held her arm as you guided her around camp. “The sky’s so beautiful tonight,” you broke the comfortable silence.

“It is,” Brienne paused as she thought. She wanted to ask but worried you would think her weird. “Can you truly see the beauty in everything?” she asked. Brienne was mocked constantly growing up for her looks and how she acted. Men flinched when they saw her, but you looked at her with deep admiration.

“Everyone can. If they take the time,” you knew what she was thinking without her saying. You heard your own men mock her in the shadows and how they laughed. Some people were cruel, but you refused to be to those who had done nothing to deserve it. “I used to dream of knights as a child,” Brienne raised an eyebrow as you began your tangent. “Of how they rode their horses with such expertise and how they didn’t even have to look to know where their knife was about to strike. I used to admire their honour and their duty. Of course, I also dreamed about their armour and how imposing it made them look. I wanted to surround myself with them so that the men in their armour and imposing nature would protect me out of honour and morality.

Those dreams died the first time a knight made a pass at me at 14,” Brienne screwed her face up at the idea that anyone, any man, would dream of hurting you, “I remember how his head rolled off his body when my father executed him for it. so, I stopped dreaming of knights,” You stopped walking to turn to Brienne, taking her hands in yours. Your hands were soft and tender while hers were rough and scarred, “You however are the truest knight I have ever met. And that Brienne is far more beautiful than hair of black silk or just another pretty face. You’re the most handsome, beautiful knight I have ever laid my eyes upon so don’t let silly boys ruin what you see in the mirror,”

Tears lined Brienne eyes, but she had taught herself not to let them fall even when you gave her hands a gentle squeeze, “I am no knight my lady,”

“Not yet,” you said as you removed your hands from hers, “But when I am queen, I will make sure you are,”

Brienne had already sworn her loyalty to Renly but her king was dead and now she was stood before someone equally as kind as he had been to her, “You would make a fine queen your grace of the north or the south,” You smiled at her words, “But what of your brother?” she asked.

“That boy is the cruellest person I have ever met,” you said as you stared off into the distance, “He will only be beautiful when he is dead,”

Brienne had assumed by your appearance you knew nothing of politics and war but as she saw your jaw clench and your eyes gaze into the distance, she knew she had been wrong. The sound of her unsheathing her sword brought your attention back to her and you could hear the camp go silent at her actions. Your men’s hands flew to their own sword hilts as they watched her but relaxed slightly when Brienne went on one knee, holding her sword out to you, “It would be my honour to serve you your grace,” Brienne said, “As queen in the north and in the south,”

You smiled at her words, a genuine smile of love and compassion, “You honour me greatly Brienne of Tarth,” your hand came to rest on her shoulder, “When the war is won and Kingslanding has been saved and Ned Stark avenged I will have you knighted before the iron throne before the gods and the realm,”

Brienne looked up at you, her eyes wet with happy tears. You smiled down at her with love and sincerity, something even Renly’s eyes failed to offer at times. “A good day that’ll be your grace,”

[nellycanwrite]

His Queen

K’uk’ulkan x Filipino!Reader Blurb

Summary: K'uk'ulkan pays you a visit to ask you to become his queen.

Rating: PG 13+

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1.5K

Note: Filipino!Reader is inspired by Marvel's equivalent to the Filipino Superhero Pearl Pangan, also known by her hero name Wave. You can control water and have the same capabilities as a Talokanil, but you are still a land-dweller born and raised in the islands of Mactan, Cebu Philippines.

It is also worthy to note that I have not included any Yucatec Maya phrases despite Namor speaking in his mother tongue as respect to his language. Therefore his mother tongue shall be labeled with italics.

This work is a connecting piece to His Timeless Love. Both can be read separately and in any order.

Hidden by the waves of saltwater was a man. But not just any man; K'uk'ulkan. The feathered serpent god from myths old and from legends foretold. Yet his divine countenance could not compare to your own. The water bent by your will, aides you at your beck and call. It surrounded you like a halo of shimmering fractals that danced around you with the flitters of a sea faerie from folktales. It was as if the sea was your bidding, yet it obeyed you like a knight to its queen. Such prowess came from disquieting origins, yet you wielded it proudly. Regally. 

He was enchanted by you.

There were no words to describe the blossoming heat from his chest, traveling from the pulsing veins of his fingertips down to the tingling crunch of fine white sand beneath his bare feet. You moved with the grace of dancing anemone, glowed as brightly as the stars of the evening sea that guided him through the throes of the darkened currents. No matter how many times he would see you, his breath always hitched. Time always stopped. 

Time was no concept for an immortal such as he, yet he found himself counting every precious second when he basked in your company.

"I know you're there." The sea rippled around him. He shook his head and chuckled.

"How did you know?" He rose from the depths of the water and stayed by the shore's edge. The waves lapped at his winged feet pleasantly like a greeting from an old friend. His eyes trailed across your back as you glided your arms in a dance of tradition with the water accompanying your movements.

"You're not subtle, K'uk'ulkan," you did not turn to face him, but you regarded him with a sliver of ocean water snaking across his arms. K'uk'ulkan held the urge to let a pleasant shiver run down his spine. You chuckled, "I saw you peeking your head from the shore."

"Is it unpleasant for you? For me to disturb you from your rituals." He asked. Your hands stopped.

"Never." You did not bother to correct him that your idle movements weren't rituals. It was mere movements controlled by the crashing waves upon the loose sand, imitating the flow of the currents that shook with each stroke. An impulse, maybe. An urge to dance with the hymns of your orient motherland.

You finally turned to face him, eyes locking with a magnificent earthen oak. He chose this moment to shorten the distance between you, his fingers finding solace at the supple of your cheeks. He caressed the lids of your eyes free of seawater and lingered a kiss to your brows with a satisfied smile. 

"Then why call me out?" There was a mischief behind his words hidden beneath the whispers of ardor. You smiled.

"I would rather have your company than to let you linger by the sea. I know you wish for the same."

You noticed his breath become albeit ragged—although it was but a sliver of a puff of air—so you willed the water to sustain his skin from the blistering heat knowing full well that he would stay with you until nightfall. The sun of Mactan, Cebu on the high end of summer's afternoon was one of the hottest recorded in any index; it would harm K'uk'ulkan if you were to let him stay under it any longer. A thin dome of water covered the both of you and the light bounced off from the water to your skins. Picturesque as it might seem to the eyes of an onlooker, there was something much more beautiful in the eyes of K'uk'ulkan.

And that was you.

"Thank you, my love." He spoke in his mother tongue. It was as pleasant and melodious as the wind chimes from your rattan house. It always filled you with immeasurable joy for him to use his language to speak so softly with you.

"Always," you guided him to sit on the sand under a nearby coconut tree, water covering you at every step and wetting the exposed skin of K'uk'ulkan. A question prodded in the forefront of your mind as soon as you were settled and huddled between the serpent god's legs, his arms wrapping around your waist and head buried on your shoulder, "why have you come to visit, my king?"

"Do I need a reason to see my queen?"

You sighed and shook your head, leaning back against his frame and turning your head to kiss the shell of his pointed ears. "A land dweller cannot be queen, K'uk'ulkan. You know that."

"Yet one lay in my arms at this very moment." He tightened his grip on your waist and peppered kisses against your neck. You tried your best not to humor his need for attention despite the growing heat that formed on your nape and cheeks.

"The people need a queen that is of Talokan blood. I can't simply take that role."

"Your achievements speak for itself," he raised his head from your shoulder and kissed your cheek, "you have saved Talokan from the hands of scientists who tried to scour through the depths of our oceans, kept our secret well-hidden from the land dwellers, and you have kept your promise of aid to my kingdom in times of need. We have seen you divert ships away from our home with your riptides and currents."

"That is hardly a reason. I've only repaid a debt."

"And what debt would that be?"

"Sparing me," your hands snaked towards the hands that locked itself on your waist. You drew circles against his skin as he sighed in content at the moment, "you had every reason to kill me when I stepped through the entrance of Talokan. You were a king who protected his people—I was sure I was going to die by your hand that day."

"You intrigued me," he supplied, his hands now taking yours and intertwining your fingers together, "you did not yield under my threats nor did you use the name my enemies have called me when I have antagonized you."

"Namor," you tried, the name foreign to your tongue, "I much prefer your real name, K'uk'ulkan. And why would I make an enemy of the king of a civilization that I have intruded?"

"You might be one of the rarer sane land dwellers."

"I try." You gave him an amused shrug.

"You are also special, my love," he added, his mother tongue chiming through the warm pacific winds, "my people already revere you as a god of their own."

"Me?"

"Do I really have to spell every word?" He placed two fingers on your chin and made you look up at the flowing dome of saltwater that you are effortlessly maintaining with your powers, "you control the sea. Our life source is at your beck and call. You can breathe like us, swim like us, and you could withstand the pressure of Talokan. You have garnered the love of our people."

"Your people." You corrected him. He shook his head and adjusted himself so he could lay his forehead against yours.

"Our people," he stared into your eyes, the rich earthen gaze reflecting that of his love for the sea. With it also came the tremendous love he had for you; his queen. No one was fit to rule by his side but you. Although there might be reservations from others of his kingdom, they cannot refute the fact that you—an entity that controlled the tides of their home—were to be revered. Respected. 

Your benevolent rule will be the legacy of his choice. And it will be living proof for the people that you were the only rightful queen to sit by the right hand of his throne.

"You hold the strength of the sea at your whim, yet you choose kindness above all else. But you do not hesitate to use force when it is necessary. That is the true makings of a ruler. Your judgment astounds me, your beauty is simply divine. You are perfect, my love."

"K'uk'ulkan…" his name was like a prayer to your mouth. It was ironic, you might say, for the prayers of the god of the sea fell into his attentive ears and returned the favor with worship—as if you were the divine entity and he the disciple. You felt his hands creep into the back of your head and pull you impossibly closer, his fingers tangling with your dampened hair from the obedient water from the ocean's tide, his lips fluttering with the tongue of praise to you; his god. He regarded your meager stature like the statue of a Santo Niño. Holy. Sacred. 

He uttered your name in a breathless whisper that wavered the dome of water from your command. He might have found that amusing enough to release a minute chuckle. He was the only one who could sway your otherwise earnest control.

"This I ask again, will you become my queen and rule Talokan by my side?"

[elrielffs]

This is just a loose theorizing by me about Gwyn's role in the future books and how this ties to Azriel and an Elriel story.

It's not meant to be anti-Gwyn. I actually really like Gwyn as a character but it does incorporate Lightsinger Gwyn and for some, this is anti-rhetoric.

This is just me kicking things around in my noggin' and nothing concrete but just loose attachments.

Under the cut cause it's kinda long.

I was thinking about some of the details we've been given in story and some meta things from SJM's pinterest. I don't really subscribe to the pinterest as end all be all but I do think some things are very interesting on it.

I do think SJM is pulling from various fairytales and myths, particularly Blodeuwedd, Koschei the Deathless and other Russian folktales, and The Little Mermaid. We know SJM takes inspiration from fairy tales.

First we have Blodeuwedd which SJM saved titling Elain. The story of Blodeuwedd is that she was made to be the perfect wife of Lleu Llaw Gyffes but rejects him and falls in love with another, Gronw Pebr.

In the Koschei and the Deathless, we have Ivan Tsarevich who has 3 sisters that marry 3 winged wizards. Ivan saves Marya Morevna, a warrior princess, from Koschei and marries her.

I think the first two speaks for themselves on how they relate to ACOTAR so I won't delve to much into it but you can see how it relates to the story that is playing out.

Last is The Little Mermaid. We all know this story because of Disney and also it's probably one of the more well known fairy tales' but the broad strokes of the ORIGINAL telling is: The Little Mermaid falls in love with the human prince, makes a deal with the Sea Witch for her fins to be turned into legs to be with him on land, the prince falls in love with someone else, and the Mermaid is tasked by the Sea Witch with killing the prince to get her fins back but she can't do it because she loves the prince too much and instead turns into bubbles/foam/becomes an air spirit.

How does this relate to Gwyn?

Gwyn has been described many a time with ocean/water like imagery and has been stated to have nymph heritage. Her eyes are constantly described as the sunlit sea and she even says the quote," I am the rock on which the surf crashes."

We are also told about Lightsingers in the same book that Gwyn is introduced: They are ethereal beings who will lure their prey to them, appearing as friendly faces. Only when their prey were in their arms would their true faces emerge.

This shares many similarities to Sirens: creatures that live in or by the ocean, that lure victims to them with an alluring voice. Sirens have also become synonymous with mermaids, merging into one creature with siren and mermaid being used interchangeably to describe the one being.

Gwyn has show these same characteristics in story. Gwyn is shown to be a singer and have a beautiful voice and to also glow when she sings.

When Nesta hears Gwyn sing she describes it thus:

Drawing any listener in.

Nesta also says this about Gwyn upon first meeting her:

Gwyn also tells Nesta at one point that Nesta wouldn't like the "real" her.

I won't go too in depth to the Lightsinger theory because there are plenty of other posts floating around breaking it down better than me but suffice to say that there is a correlation between Gwyn's voice/singing=some type of power. This easily translates into Lightsinger/mermaid/siren imagery and theory.

Now this next part is just me spit balling and is more fast and loose and how this could tie into an Elriel story:

We don't know too much about Koschei in story except that he's a Death God and older brother to Stryga and the Bone Carver, beings who traveled from another world to Prythian (Daglan/Asteri?) and a powerful wizard that cursed Vassa.

At one point he tells Azriel he has "been preparing for you". What could this mean? Why has he been preparing for Azriel?

Why would Koschei, who is a powerful wizard, bargain with the Acheron's father, a human nobody? Is it because he is Elain's father?

Rhysand speculates that there's a possibility that the priestess have been infiltrated. We saw with Ianthe that not all priestess's harbor good intentions and in ACOWAR that the library can be broken into.

It has been highly speculated that Merrill, a priestess in the Library, is up to something. Is she in line with Koschei?

Who works under Merrill? Gwyn.

We know from HOFAS that the cauldron is corrupted by the Asteri/Daglan, a fact speculated by Azriel himself in the bonus chapter.

Is possible that Koschei as a Daglan/Asteri had a hand in corrupting the cauldron to mix up Elain's mates? Is that how Koschei "prepared" for Azriel?

And what about Gwyn working under Merrill? Gwyn could be manipulated and unknowingly assisting Koschei/Merrill or she could be working for them for some kind of favor--returning her sister Catrin to life?

Also, the fact that Gwyn and Catrin are twins can be used for shenanigan's. What if Gwyn is actually Catrin? (This is purely speculative on my part by the fact that they were made twins rather than just sisters.)

It's also mentioned that Catrin had webbed fingers. I love this little detail and wish Gwyn had them too but is there a reason she doesn't? Could this be to distinguish Catrin and Gwyn at a later date besides hair color?

Could Merrill/Koschei know about Gwyn's Lightsinger heritage and be using her as way to lure Azriel away from Elain?

What is one of the gifts Elain gets Azriel? Ear plugs.

We know it as a gag gift but we also know that Elain has visions--we don't know how fragmented or how fully she receives them but is is possible that she saw something that inspired her to give Azriel the ear plugs?

Is this to upset the balance of the 6 pointed star mentioned in HOFAS?

Could Gwyn, unknowingly or knowingly be working for Koschei to infiltrate the IC via Nesta and the training, lure Azriel away from Elain? Could Gwyn fall in love (this part is not needed, it can be just business on Gwyn's end) with Azriel but realize thru her connections with the Valkyries and training and Azriel that she can't go thru with it?

Let me reiterate, I don't think Gwyn is evil. I think she could be manipulated, coerced, or promised something she can't refuse to help or go along with Koschei/Merrill. She might not even know it's Koschei she is helping or that she is even in fact assisting. She could be manipulated into using her unknown Lightersinger powers.

Gwyn (the Mermaid) is promised/manipulated into using her Lightsinger powers by Koschei/Merrill (Sea Witch) to lure Azriel (the prince) away from Elain (the woman the prince loves) but the end she can't go thru with it either because she realizes it's wrong, realizes she's being manipulated or because she can't do that to Azriel.

I know there is more that can be conjected but this is already quite long and I didn't even delve into the Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty parallels.

I realize this could have been posted before and nothing new but I just wanted to put my thoughts out there and hear some more of my fellow Elriels!

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jade Leech - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jade: I see this art museum not only has many art pieces depicting tales from the surface, but also from under the sea.

Jade: I suppose this may mean that just as there are merfolk fascinated by land, those on the surface may have garnered interest in the ocean as well… Oh?

???: These are the two moray eels that served the Sea Witch. And yet, their expressions…

Jade: I believe they look quite kind and gentlemanly. Do you not agree, Riddle-san?

Riddle: …Oh Jade, it's you. Unfortunately, I have to disagree with your opinion there. That's because…

Riddle: In this painting their grins look as though they are plotting something untoward, not unlike how you and Floyd tend to look.

Jade: Oh my, for you to say we resemble the great Sea Witch's subordinates like that… Fufufu, I am honored.

Riddle: That wasn't a compliment. However, it's true that their numerous benevolent acts have been passed down through history.

Riddle: I'm sure I'm only mistakenly seeing them as sinister, but in reality, they are kind moray eels, just as you say.

Jade: Indeed. I'm elated that not only are the tales of the Sea Witch widely known on land, but also that of her eels.

Jade: Back home, there is a very popular folktale in which those moray eels present a challenge to a mermaid who had fallen in love with someone of a different species.

Riddle: Oh that's… Are you talking about the mermaid who made a contract with the Sea Witch in order to be with the human she had fallen in love with?

Jade: That's right. The incident where they flipped the boat that the mermaid and her beloved were sitting in in order to test their love is a particularly popular tale…

Jade: It is said that their bond was strengthened thanks to the quick thinking of those moray eels.

Riddle: If I recall correctly, that mermaid's contract with the Sea Witch was conditioned on blossoming that love from her own efforts…

Jade: That is true. And yet, they continued to monitor her after she made the contract, and even provide generous support… They truly are most benevolent.

Jade: Now, speaking of boats…

Jade: Do you know of a strangely shaped boat, one that is completely different than the small rowing boat in this tale?

Riddle: Strangely shaped?

Jade: Indeed. For example… Think of a boat shaped like a bird that is rowed by pedaling your feet.

Riddle: Ah, you mean the swan boats.

Jade: Yes, that's it. Whenever I would poke my head out of the ocean, I would see many boats that were rowed with oars, and yet…

Jade: I had never seen one quite shaped like that, ever. I was quite shocked the first time I came across one. It is rather unique.

Riddle: If you like unusual boats like that, the Queendom of Roses have some in the shape of flamingos.

Jade: Is that so? I would like to ride one of those one day, as well.

Riddle: …As well? Are you saying that you've ridden on one of those swan boats with Azul, or Floyd…?

Jade: No, I rode alone.

Riddle: EH, YOU RODE ONE OF THOSE BOATS ALONE!?

Jade: Yes. It was too narrow for my legs to sit comfortably on one side, so I had to pedal the boat with one foot on what would normally be each person's pedal.

Jade: That was truly a fickle vehicle to maneuver. I had enough trouble trying to steer in the direction I wanted…

Jade: While I was riding it, that aforementioned anecdote of the boat and the moray eels came to mind.

Jade: I thought to myself… If somehow there was some creature bent on capsizing this boat, it could be quite the ordeal.

Jade: Have you ever ridden a swan boat, Riddle-san?

Riddle: No, can't say I have…

Jade: Well, that is a pity. It is very enjoyable, so I fully encourage you to experience it. We can ride together sometime.

Riddle: How could you possibly believe that I'd agree to do so after all we talked about just now…? I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be some other creature capsizing us, it would be you.

Jade: I would never. And even if we were to encounter trouble and capsize, it would be quite easy for me to swim us to shore. Fufu… Does that not help you feel safer?

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jade: This is a painting depicting the myth of the child of a god who aspired to be a hero alongside his friends.

Jade: It is said that he trained his mind and body in order to become a hero. Perhaps this specifically depicts a scene from one of his training sessions.

Riddle: It seems so. From the look on his face, his training must have been going well.

Jade: I remember back while I was learning self-defense, I was also just as elated as he was in his painting whenever I perfectly executed a specific technique.

Riddle: Oh, so you know self-defense.

Jade: That's right. My father taught me.

Jade: He also taught me how to free myself if tied up and pick locks if I am locked up.

Riddle: EH!? Why would your father teach a child such things…?

Jade: Simply put, my parents are overcautious. After all, they do say "providing is preventing," right?

Jade: In fact, it is because of my self-defense training, that I've been able to avoid many an incident.

Riddle: Incidents in which your self-defense training was useful? That seems somewhat disturbing.

Jade: I wouldn't say that… Back in the ocean, there were a few sharks that had refused to honor their promises.

Jade: As I was entreating them to fulfill their duty, they all decided to bilk their promise altogether.

Riddle: That is absolutely unacceptable. If they have broken their promises, they should pay the price.

Jade: Yes, I thought the exact same. THAT IS WHY I USED MY SELF-DEFENSE SKILLS AND TURNED THE TABLES ON THEM.

Jade: Even though it was the result of their own actions, I couldn't help but feel some semblance of pity for them as they screamed every time I twisted their fins.

Riddle: I'm having a hard time believing this… I fully assumed that that kind of dangerous task would be more Floyd's specialty.

Jade: That was just an unusual case. I am usually reluctant to resort to such tactics.

Jade: When resolving issues, it is best to come to an amicable conclusion via communication, not fists.

Jade: However, that does not mean that there will never be a time in which those self-defense techniques will need to be used on the surface.

Jade: Here on land, it would be impossible to use any technique that requires the use of my tailfin. My human body still lacks the right experience.

Jade: I am hoping to strengthen my skills in order to be as proficient in my self-defense techniques on land in this body as I am in the ocean.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Riddle: This is a painting of the Fairest Queen of All. In the background, we can see her peacock feathered throne.

Jade: Indeed. It looks as if the Queen is majestically spreading her own wings… What spectacular composition.

Jade: Moreover, that box she is holding up so delicately…  It draws my eyes with how vividly crimson it is.

Riddle: Seeing that it has a lock on it, it may be her treasure box.

Jade: A treasure box, hm. I remember I used to stuff as much as I could in a big, beautiful box of my own when I was younger.

Jade: At one point, I had collected so many various accessories that humans had dropped into the ocean, that I wasn't even able to close the lid.

Jade: I would take strolls every day just to search for possible trinkets, at times going to places so far out a round trip would take me a whole day.

Jade: Once in a while, if I came across any coins, I would give them to Azul… Fufu, that brings back memories.

Riddle: When you say accessories, you mean rings, or necklaces, yes? I'm surprised that you were interested in such jewelry.

Jade: I suppose so. I don't often choose to wear accessories as much anymore.

Jade: Although, I do recall collecting a few hundred pieces…

Riddle: A few hundred!? If you had collected that much, then I'm sure there would be some that still suit your tastes now…

Jade: Perhaps. However, I have since disposed of all those accessories I collected back then.

Riddle: Disposed all of them…? Even though you had so fervently collected them?

Jade: Correct. Keeping things that no longer interest you is simply a waste of space, wouldn't you say?

Jade: Ah yes, actually, there was something that caught my attention when I came to the surface, as well.

Jade: It is nothing unusual, and in fact can be found pretty much anywhere on land…

Jade: Once I took note of them, I could really feel the intention behind those that made them, as well as their various designs. It is profoundly fascinating.

Riddle: Hmmm, nothing comes to mind. What is it that caught your attention that much?

Jade: Fufu, well, that would be… manhole lids.

Riddle: Huh, manhole lids!?

Jade: Some lids are designed to show off local specialties or attractions.

Jade: Of course, there are no manholes in the ocean. So my interest was piqued as I was searching up on what use they could possibly serve…

Jade: For a little while, I did find myself collecting a few hundred various merchandise of manhole lids with unusual designs, as well.

Riddle: So, regardless of whether it's accessories, or manholes… I see you get truly invested when you decide you like something.

Jade: Indeed. Once I've taken a liking to something, I seem to be the type that becomes completely absorbed by it.

Jade: However, I will say that those investments don't last too long.

Jade: In fact, my fixation has shifted from manhole lids to mountains already.

Riddle: It's good to find something to be invested in, but remember that a student's duty is his studies. Regulate your time with your hobbies so as to not neglect that.

Riddle: Well then, I will be heading to view paintings of the Queen of Hearts, so, farewell.

Jade: Right, see you later. …Well, now that Riddle-san has left me, I wonder what painting I should look at now… Hm?

Jade: Is this a painting of a shrimp…? No, a crab. How wonderful, he looks so terribly elated.

Jade: It's usually these sorts of folk who would be in need of reprimand for not paying the price after signing their contracts. Fufu…

[specialagentartemis]

Black Women writing SFF

The post about Octavia Butler also made me think about the injustice we do both Butler, SFF readers, and Black women SFF writers by holding her up as the one Black Woman Writing Sci-Fi. She occupies an important place in the genre, for her creativity, the beauty and impact of her writing, and her prolific work... but she's still just one writer, and no one writer works for everybody.

So whether you liked Octavia Butler's books or didn't, here are some of the (many!!! this list is just the authors I've read and liked, or been recommended and been wanting to read) other Black women writing speculative fiction aimed at adults, who might be writing something within your interest:

N. K. Jemisin - a prolific powerhouse of modern sff. Will probably have something you'll like. Won three Hugo awards in a row for her Broken Earth trilogy. I’ve only read her book of short stories, How Long ‘Til Black Future Month? and it is absolutely story after story of bangers. Creative, chilling, beautifully written, make you think. They’re so good and I highly recommend the collection. Several of her novels have spun out of premises she first explored through these short stories, most recently “The City Born Great” giving rise to her novel The City We Became. Leans more fantasy than sci-fi, but has a lot of both, in various permutations. 

Nisi Shawl - EDIT: I have been informed that Nisi Shawl identifies as genderfluid, not as a woman. They primarily write short stories that lean literary. Their one novel that I’ve read, Everfair, is an alternate-history 19th century that asks, what if the Congo had fought off European colonization and became a free and independent African state? Told in vignettes spanning decades of political organization, political movements, war tactics, and social development, among an ensemble of local African people, Black Americans coming to the new country, white and mixed-race Brits, and Chinese immigrants who came as British laborers.

Nnedi Okorafor - American-Nigerian writer of Africanfuturism, sci-fi stories emphasizing life in present, future, and alternate-magical Africa. She has range! From Binti, a trilogy of novellas about a teenage girl in Namibia encountering aliens and balancing her newfound connection to space with expectations of her family; to Akata Witch, a middle-grade series about a Nigerian-American girl moving to Nigeria and learning to use magic powers she didn’t know she had; to Who Fears Death, a brutal depiction of magical-realism in a futuristic, post-war Sudan; to short stories like "Africanfuturism 419", about that poor Nigerian prince who’s desperately sending out those emails looking for help (but with a sci-fi twist), and "Mother of Invention" about a smart house taking care of its human and her baby… she’s done a little bit of everything, but always emphasizes the future, the science, and the magic of (usually western) Africa.

Karen Lord - an Afro-Caribbean author.  I actually didn’t particularly like the one novel by her I’ve read, The Best of All Possible Worlds, but Martha Wells did, so. Lord has more novels set in this world—a Star Trek-esque multicultural, multispecies spacefuture set on a planet that has welcomed immigrants and refugees for a long time, and become a vibrant multicultural planet. I find her stories rooted in near-future Caribbean socio-climatic concerns like "Haven" and "Cities of the Sun" and her folktale-fantasy style Redemption in Indigo more compelling.  And more short stories here.

Bethany C. Morrow - only has one novella (short novel?) for adults, Mem, but it was creative and fascinating and good and I’d be remiss not to shout it out. In an alternate-history 1920s Toronto, scientists have discovered how to extract specific memories from a person—but then those memories are embodied as physical, cloned manifestations of the person at the moment the memory was made. The main character is one such “Mem,” struggling to determine who she is if she was created from and defined by one single traumatic memory that her original-self wanted to remove. It’s mostly quiet, contemplative, and very interesting.  (Morrow has some YA novels too. I read one of them and thought it was okay.)

Rebecca Roanhorse - Afro-Indigenous, Black and "Spanish Indian" and married into Diné (Navajo). I’ve read her ongoing post-apocalyptic fantasy series starting with Trail of Lightning, and am liking it a lot; after a climate catastrophe, the spirits and magic of the Diné awakened to protect Dinetah (the Navajo Nation) from the onslaught; and now magic and monsters are part of life in this fundamentally changed world. Coyote is there and he is only sometimes helpful. She also has a more traditional second-world epic high fantasy, Black Sun, an elaborate fantasy world with quests and prophecies and seafaring adventure that draws inspiration from Indigenous cultures of the US and Mexico rather than Europe. She also has bitingly satirical and very incisive short stories like “Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience” about virtual reality and cultural tourism, and the fantasy-horror "Harvest."

Micaiah Johnson - her multiverse-hopping novel The Space Between Worlds plays with alternate universes and alternate selves in a continuously creative and interesting way! The setup doesn’t take the easy premise that one universe is our own recognizable one that opens up onto strange alternate universes—even the main character’s home universe is wildly different in speculative ways, with the MC coming from a Mad Max-esque desert community abandoned to the elements, while working for the universe-travel company within the climate-controlled walled city where the rich and well-connected live and work. Also, it’s unabashedly gay. 

And if you like audiobooks and audio fiction (I listened to The Space Between Worlds as an audiobook, it’s good), then Jordan Cobb is someone you should check out. She does sci-fi/horror/thriller audio drama. Her works include Janus Descending, a lyrical and eerie sci-fi horror about a small research expedition to a distant planet and how it went so, so wrong; and Descendants, the sequel about its aftermath. She also has Primordial Deep, about a research expedition to the deep undersea, to investigate the apparent re-emergence of a lot of extinct prehistoric sea creatures. She’s a writer/producer I like, and always follow her new releases. Her detailed prose, minimal casts  (especially in Janus Descending), good audio quality, and full-series supercuts make these welcoming to audiobook fans. 

-

Nalo Hopkinson - a writer who should be considered nearly as foundational as Octavia Butler, honestly. A novelist and short story writer with a wide variety of sci-fi, dystopian futures, fairy-tale horror, gods and epics, and space Carnival, drawing heavily from her Caribbean experiences and aesthetics.

Tananarive Due - fantastical/horror. Immortals, vampires, curses, altered reality, unnerving mystery. Also has written a lot of books.

Andrea Hairston - creative and otherworldly, weird and bisexual, with mindscapes and magic and aliens. 

Helen Oyeyemi - I haven’t read her work but she comes highly recommended by a friend. A novelist and short story writer, most of her work leans fairytale fantastical-horror. What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours is a collection of short fiction and recc’ed to me as her best work. White is for Witching is a well-regarded haunted house novel. 

Ashia Monet - indie author, writer of The Black Veins, pitched as “the no-love-interest, found family adventure you’ve been searching for.” Magic road trip! Possibly YA? I’m not positive. 

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This also doesn’t include Black non-binary sff authors I’ve read and liked like An Owomoyela, C. L. Polk, and Rivers Solomon. And this is specifically about adult sff books, so I didn’t include Black women YA sff authors like Kalynn Bayron, Tomi Adeyemi, Tracy Deonn, Justina Ireland, or Alechia Dow, though they’re writing fantasy and sci-fi in the YA world too.

And a lot of short stories are out there in the online magazine world, where so many up and coming authors get their start, and established ones explore offbeat and new ideas.  Pick up an issue (or a subscription!) of FIYAH magazine for the most current Black speculative writing.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

Read Palestine Week

🇵🇸 Good morning, my beautiful bookish bats. Can I start by saying a huge THANK YOU for sharing my Queer Palestinian Book post? Seriously, thank you so much. Let's keep that momentum by observing Read Palestine Week (Nov 29 - Dec 5). I've compiled a list of books to help you, along with a list of upcoming events and resources you can use this week and beyond.

🇵🇸 A collective of over 350 global publishers and individuals issued a public statement expressing solidarity with the Palestinian people. Publishers for Palestine have organized an international #ReadPalestine week, starting today (International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People).

🇵🇸 These publishers have made many resources and e-books available for free (with more to come). A few include award-winning fiction and poetry by Palestinian and Palestinian diaspora authors. You'll also find non-fiction books about Palestinian history, politics, arts, culture, and “books about organizing, resistance, and solidarity for a Free Palestine.” You can visit publishersforpalestine.org to download some of the books they have available.

POETRY 🌙 Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear by Mosab Abu Toha 🌙 Affiliation by Mira Mattar 🌙 Enemy of the Sun by Samih al-Qasim 🌙 I Saw Ramallah by Mourid Barghouti 🌙 A Mountainous Journey by Fadwa Tuqan 🌙 So What by Taha Muhammad Ali 🌙 The Butterfly’s Burden by Mahmoud Darwish 🌙 To All the Yellow Flowers by Raya Tuffaha

FICTION 🌙 Gate of the Sun by Elias Khoury 🌙 Speak, Bird, Speak Again: Palestinian Arab Folktales 🌙 Men in the Sun by Ghassan Kanafani 🌙 Morning in Jenin by Susan Abulhawa 🌙 Gaze Writes Back by Young Writers in Gaze 🌙 Palestine +100:Stories from a Century after the Nakba 🌙 Wild Thorns by Sahar Khalifeh 🌙 Out of Time by Samira Azzam

🌙 The Skin and Its Girl by Sarah Cypher 🌙 You Exist Too Much by Zaina Arafat 🌙 A Woman is No Man by Etaf Rum 🌙 Salt Houses by Hala Alyan 🌙 A Map of Home by Randa Jarrar 🌙 Against the Loveless World by Susan Abulhawa 🌙 Minor Detail by Adania Shibli 🌙 The Woman From Tantoura by Radwa Ashour

NON-FICTION 🌙 Blood Brothers by Elias Chacour 🌙 Strangers in the House: Coming of Age in Occupied Palestine by Raja Shehadeh 🌙 Palestinian Art, 1850–2005 by Kamal Boullata 🌙 Palestine by Joe Sacco 🌙 The Hour of Sunlight: One Palestinian’s Journey from Prisoner to Peacemaker by Sami Al Jundi & Jen Marlowe 🌙 Palestine: A Four Thousand Year History by Nur Masalha 🌙 Justice for Some: Law and the Question of Palestine by Noura Erakat 🌙 The Words of My Father: Love and Pain in Palestine by Yousef Khalil Bashir

🌙 Traditional Palestinian Costume: Origins and Evolution by Hanan Karaman Munayyer 🌙 Mountain against the Sea: Essays on Palestinian Society and Culture by Salim Tamari 🌙 This Is Not a Border: Reportage and Reflection from the Palestine Festival of Literature 🌙 We Could Have Been Friends, My Father and I: A Palestinian Memoir, by Raja Shehadeh 🌙 Les échos de la mémoire. Une enfance palestinienne à Jérusalem, by Issa J. Boullata 🌙 A Party For Thaera: Palestinian Women Write Life In Prison 🌙 Light in Gaza: Writings Born of Fire, 🌙 Voices of the Nakba: A Living History of Palestine