#local folklore

[mononokevalley]

Krivapete

In the heart of the Valli del Natisone, a region nestled in northeastern Italy, there lie tales of legendary creatures that weave together magic and ancient wisdom: the Krivapete. These mysterious beings are deeply embedded in local folklore, depicted as ancient, wise women with bird-like talons or feet, symbolizing their primordial connection to nature and the earth.

The Krivapete are often described with weathered, wrinkled skin and eyes deep as dark wells, capable of piercing through the very soul. Their talons, replacing what would be normal toes, mark their profound bond with the wild. They are said to reside in remote, almost inaccessible places: hidden caves among ancient rocks or beneath imposing boulders that tower over the landscape.

The Krivapete are credited with possessing profound knowledge of nature, herbs, and ancient remedies. They are reputed to have taught the local people essential skills, such as preparing traditional dishes like brovada (fermented turnips) and crafting cheese, butter, and even bread. However, their wisdom is not freely given; they share their secrets selectively, often requiring respect or promises in return.

One of the most famous tales tells of a man who captured a sleeping Krivapeta under a chestnut tree to learn her secrets. She agreed to teach him many valuable skills, including various food preparations, but after her release, she escaped while shouting that she had withheld the secret of making sugar, ensuring her knowledge remained incomplete. This story highlights the dual nature of the Krivapete: they are both benevolent and mischievous, guiding yet retaining some mysteries.

In other versions of the folklore, the Krivapete interact with humans to assist in seasonal agricultural tasks or rituals. For instance, in autumn, they are said to prepare radicchio soup in the village of Tribil. The Krivapete are woven into the cultural fabric of the Valli del Natisone, blending mythology with practical knowledge of local customs and culinary traditions.

[photos from Pinterest]

[chaoticdesertdweller]

[spiritualsidequest]

The urge to disappear into the forest and become local folklore is HELLA strong lately.

[inkyami]

Song

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[hobgobknowsbest]

[corrodedcoughin]

just thinking out loud but the Steve going to college because believe it or not he’s finally found a very specific course that catches his interest and it happens to be in Fort Wayne so he can still check in on the kids. It gets even better when Robin and Nancy decide they want to stay local too so they all pack together and get excited (and nervous) about moving.

The time comes and they leave Hawkins and suddenly it’s the first proper day of classes. The three of them are spread over the campus so Steve treks alone to his first class, the reason he chose the college in the first place: Introduction to Folklore.

He’s so ready to learn about something he’s finally interested in. Doesn’t pay attention to the usual seating conventions and social status, just wants to know where they’ll be starting, cliques and popularity contests a long gone part of his life.

The professor is in her stride, painting a picture with her stories of creatures from folklore and the origins, Steve can’t believe it but he’s genuinely excited to learn for once. The pinpoint accuracy focus on the professor is shattered when a voice erupts next to him

‘That’s great and everything but shouldn’t there have been a moth man lover sighting by now? Where is the justice for this noble creature I ask you? I know there’s monster fuckers out there professor.’

The professor slowly engages the guy in conversation but Steve is seething. Who does this guy think he is? Does he think this is a private class just for him? That Steve isn’t paying good money to be here? So pen clenched in a white knuckled hand Steve lets his bitchy temperament get the better of him ‘I thought this was a folklore class? Not a self insert romance lit course’ he clearly says it too loud because the boy next to him. The one who started all this turns to Steve and raises an eyebrow, a smug smile on his face and lets out a ‘huh interesting’ and what’s Steve supposed to do with that? And more importantly what’s Steve supposed to do with the fact that the guy is stupid hot with this long hair, tattoo combo and that the smug look on his face definitely made Steve’s heartbeat thunder in his ears? Out of rage on behalf of his fellow students, of course.

Turns out it doesn’t matter, the class is over and Steve is running out the door, determined not to get caught by those eyes again.

It starts off a Thing between them. Every week the guy, Eddie, will challenge the lecturer with some inane point that Steve refuses to accept he actually believes to the point of Steve firing back an argument at him. Eventually they are full on debates in the middle of the class that the professor has to mediate after eddie decided that standing on the table would be appropriate (of course, not to be outdone, steve followed).

They absolutely do not have a thing for each other and the rest of the class absolutely do have a sweepstakes on when they’ll get together

[chilljustacat]

[haruspicina]

hey friends! I posted a lil horror!tomione for halloween!

[walkingbomb]

reblog and put a local/your favourite cryptid, mythical creature, paranormal phenomenon or other folklore in the tags

[giurochedadomani]

“I used to be a marine”, he says, before he can think better of it. And when he does think better of it, well. He’s already said it. 

Next to him, he can feel Shanks tensing up. He leaves him ample time to cut him off, half relieved when the redhead stays silent. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees him idly tracing the neck of the bottle they’ve emptied. 

“I didn’t join out of some misplaced faith or sense of justice”, he feels the need to point out, his father’s stern face at the back of his mind. “I joined because my brother did”. 

To have an excuse to get out of home, too. With Calugurul about to be shipped off, he hadn’t been too eager to find out if he could withstand the full scope of their father’s attention alone. 

“We were… close, my brother and I”, he continues. And then, because it feels cheap to encompass their relationship with just that: “He taught me to fight. Gave me my first sword”. 

Back when Yoru doubled him in height and he couldn’t fathom how his brother managed to wield it when he himself had trouble raising a simple steel sword.

“He did have faith in the cause”, he says after a moment. Under the night sky, Yoru stays black and void. Even the reflection of the small bonfire they’ve built evades it. “Quickly gained the trust of peers… and superiors”. 

The back of his throat tastes bitter. Why is he doing this? He doesn’t owe Shanks a single thing. Why is he wasting his time trying to appease the redhead’s stupid insecurity about him not joining his crew? 

He sighs. 

“My skills in combat kept me by his side through all of it. That is, until Gyorgy Thurzo became our captain”.  

[mononokevalley]

Benandanti

In the 16th and 17th centuries in Friuli, small congregations known as the Benandanti emerged, dedicated to protecting villages and harvests from malevolent entities. This practice descended from ancient pagan traditions widespread in Central and Northern Europe, and here in Friuli the Benandanti, born still enveloped in the amniotic sac, were seen as bearers of positive energies.

The Benandanti had a critical role in ensuring the fertility of the land, engaging in battles against witches and sorcerers. It is said that they could leave their physical bodies, sometimes transforming into mist or small animals, to assemble in groups and thwart evil deeds. These encounters often occurred during the "four tempora," specific periods in the agricultural calendar, with victories determining the abundance or scarcity of crops.

In addition to being powerful healers, the Benandanti possessed the ability to communicate with the dead, especially during significant occasions like menstruation or the Day of the Dead. This contrasts with the streghe (witches), who were believed to cast harmful spells.

Carlo Ginzburg, in his work "I Benandanti," characterizes the Benandanti as figures marked by a rejection of authority and a strong sense of independence, primarily serving as healers rather than malicious magicians. Despite their benevolent intentions, they were labeled heretics by the Inquisition between 1575 and 1675. By the late 17th century, the Inquisition relaxed its scrutiny, leading to a decline in the Benandanti’s following.

The Benandanti, whose name means "good walkers," embodied a shamanic, agrarian cult focused on fertility, rooted in the rich folklore of the region. They were often depicted in historical prints fighting demons, wielding fennel branches against witches' sorghum rods. Their legacy reflects a fascinating blend of pre-Christian beliefs and local customs, deeply embedded in the cultural history of Friuli.

[not my photos]

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

For those of you who are interested in becoming horror movie protagonists, your local library's parapsychology/occultism section can be found under Dewey Decimal classification 130.0 - 130.9

If you're looking for folklore, that would be in the early 398s (if you hit "jokes and jests," 398.7, you've gone too far)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

ok but how funny would it be if i put a lil Shenanigan in the Lights Out au where a couple of teenagers break into the ~spooky abandoned studio~ and throw Eddie in the water. like. they just find him and toss his little 4ft body in the Lake™️for shits and gigs

[rwby-confess]

Confession #200 !!

[randomtimes-com]

Kekri: Finland's answer to day of the dead

Kekri is a unique and lively celebration in Finland that marks the end of the harvest season, a vital time for a society historically reliant on agriculture. The ancient European farming communities lived and died by the success of their crops. A good year meant a bountiful yield, easing the pressure on the coming winter, while a poor harvest meant hard times lay ahead, with the punishing colder…

[mossofteeth]

The wail of an alarm wound its way through the ghostly hills. If somebody stopped to ponder about it for too long, they’d find that the sound seemed to be coming from every direction. Strange things happen in the hills all the time. What they’d never know, however, is that those ghostly wails were whispers compared to the sound of the alarm underground.

Genevieve stood in the middle of Dr. David Blankenship’s office. She hadn’t set foot there since her 100th birthday, almost five years ago. Memories of their gentle conversations about his hopes and dreams for her attempted to prod its way out of the mental box she’d shoved it in years ago. She winced as she shoved it even farther back. She couldn’t crack now.

“Where is he?!” She screamed, her voice already growing ragged. She had spent the past two years planning this. Long, sleepless nights full of uppers, coffee, and stacks and stacks of research. Everything was foolproof. Or, so she thought. It seemed as if she had made the mistake of assuming that Dr. David would have welcomed her back with tears and open arms, like an owner who had just been reunited with their lost dog. She hadn’t expected quite the fanfare that she had received.

The sound of the alarm was rattling her skull as she forced herself to remain calm and survey the room. The walls were covered in framed pictures of Genevieve and her Doctor. The collection of stuffed bunny rabbits still sat in their netting, nestled against the ceiling. She swore that she could smell the warm scent of earl grey. And leather. Dirty pennies.

You’re always such a good girl, aren’t you?

She sensed a shift in the air and snapped her head to the left, wild eyes darting around to look for the source. Her thick curls snaked around her shoulders, chest, and waist like armor. “David?” Her voice betrayed her, cracking like a scared child that needed a hug. “Don’t hide from me, you coward!”

| @thefvrious