#myths and fairytales

[carnivorous-horses-lover]

Very much so!

A collection of omens from the prairies 🤞🌾🌾

[thelaithlyworm]

Return of the Return of the Repod Wrangle

A missing scene from Star Trek La Sirena. We know that Cris Rios and Agnes Jurati had a one night stand, and were hella awkward after. How exactly did that go…? Also of note as the fic that got me saddled with a bit of cursed worldbuilding. (If you know, you know.)

A very sweet and gentle talk between Data and Tasha about the great beings they saw in the very first episode, and about existing in a society, and about being kind…

Imma going to call this one cursed not because it’s a bad fic – it’s lovely! an angel and a demon bonding through text messages and spying – but because Past!Me decided to polish it in a very SFX-heavy way, and Present!Me doesn’t like being one-upped by the old fogies of three years ago. In any case, here ‘tis, large as life and a bit more mellow. Bing!

There are a couple of minor characters in the very fucked up, very good novel The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun who perform gender in very particular ways. Or maybe it’s not gender maybe they’d always be like that, or safer, or kinder. It’s a story about doom, maybe. Not love, of course. Did you hear anyone say it was about love?

I wrote this set of stories during my country’s first Lockdown, when I badly needed a distraction, as part of an on-line game based on The Decameron. Ten days, each day has a theme and all the players make up a story on it.

Mine often raided existing myths and fairytales, in the grand tradition of The Decameron and other older story collections, though “The Fool Who Met Death” was completely original. I am unreasonably delighted with my version of “Stone Soup”. (‘Who wouldn’t give up just one bunch of carrots for the Tuscany variant…?’)

And it was, it brought back a lot of feelings, revisiting these.

Anyway, enjoy! enjoy! (if you choose to enjoy, and if you don’t that’s just fine. Hope you have a beautiful day.)

[pocketposie]

fairy knots (or fairy-locks) is a myth that these tangles come from fairies playing in "beast's" manes at night. its bad luck to untangle them !

[faithschaffer]

I've added new pieces to my print store! 100% of profits will go to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund until there is a ceasefire, including all of my current balance. Thanks!

[brunhielda]

This is how the crow evolves into an ominous supernatural entity and I am HERE for it!

Ominous..

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 2)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (Part 1)

            While staying in a cave did offered protection, the same could not be said for a good night’s sleep. You tossed and turned on the stone floor, kept awake by the noises of the forest and the constant itching of your skin. When dawn broke, you were still tired but happy to have survived your first night on the mountain.

            With the morning light came your new monkey friend, Shihou. He appeared at the cave entrance carrying various fruits for breakfast.

            “Good morning!” he greeted, tail swaying cheerfully despite the early hour. You grumbled in reply, picking out a peach to munch on. Shihou grabbed a fruit for himself and sat by your knee. “So, I spoke with the King about you.”

            Anxiety woke you like a cold plunge, your appetite suddenly gone. “He’s not going to kill and eat me, is he?” you asked cautiously.

            “Eat you?!” Shihou burst into high pitched, chittering laughter. “Of course not! On the contrary, he officially welcomes you as his honored guest. The King also gave me some good news about your so-called ‘curse’.”

            It was the first positive thing you had heard relating to the Monkey King. “What did he say? Does he know a cure?”

            “Well, you see…” When Shihou held out his paw, you could see a similar rash across his palm. Knowing he now shared your affliction filled your heart with guilt and shame.

            “I’m so sorry!” you cried, backing away. “I didn’t think it was contagious.”

            Shihou waved his hands, trying to calm you down. “It’s okay, I’m fine. You’re not contagious. This is where I grabbed your sleeve yesterday,” he said, pointing to your robes. “It’s not a disease; it’s poison ivy. Someone must have ground up some dried leaves and put the powder in your clothes. That’s what’s causing your rash.”

            You tugged at your robes curiously, noticing that everywhere they touched was where the rash had spread. Instantly, you knew who was responsible. “This seems like something my sister would pull.”

            “Perhaps,” Shihou shrugged. “But it’s nothing that can’t be cured. Hurry up and eat, I have something to show you.”

            With a flick of his tail, the monkey scampered out of the cave. You quickly finished your breakfast and stepped outside, finding Shihou waiting in one of the trees. Seeing you, he leapt to another branch, waving for you to follow. “Come on, peach friend! You’re wasting the sun’s time!”

            “Peach friend?” you asked with a giggle, keeping pace with his swings and jumps.

            “Yep! You shared a peach with me so now we’re peach friends!”

            As you walked, the distant sound of rushing water grew louder until the forest gave way. Beyond the trees, a waterfall tumbled from the peak of the mountain, cascading into a crystal blue river below. All the surrounding trees were green and laden with colorful flowers and fruits despite the wintery season back in the village.

            “Over here, peach friend!” Shihou called from the riverbank. Next to him was a folded bundle of clothes and plants organized into piles. “These herbs should help with your rash. If you bathe and wash your robes out, you’ll be healed in no time.”

             “You want me to wash here? In the river? Out in the open?” you asked, glancing around. “What if someone sees me?”

            Shihou just laughed. “You’re the only human on the mountain.”

            “What about demons? I don’t want them spying on me, either.”

            “Only Monkey King’s subjects come this close to the waterfall,” Shihou said. When he noticed you still weren’t convinced, he sighed and patted your knee in reassurance. “I’ll keep watch if you want but this place is pretty private.”

            You gave him a skeptical look. “And you aren’t going to peek?”

            He waved your concerns away with a scoff. “I’m going to be too busy making your medicine over here. Now hurry up, your rash will only get worse at this rate.”

            Shihou turned away and started mixing leafy fronds and purple flowers together before smashing them with a stone. With your given privacy, you shimmied out of your robes and slipped into the pool at the base of the waterfall.

            The water was cool but not cold, immediately soothing the itch and burn of your rash. You gently scrubbed your skin and rinsed away the dirt from your night in the woods. By the time you swam back to shore, you felt clean and refreshed.

            You found Shihou lounging on a tree branch above the water. His ears perked as you splashed closer but his eyes remained respectfully closed. “Rub the paste on your skin; it’ll stop the itch and speed up the healing process. There are some clean clothes over there as well.”

            The plants had been mashed into a green poultice and left waiting on a stone. You rubbed the medicine over the worst of your rash, already feeling the soothing tingle as it started to work. Once you and the paste were dry, you unfolded the waiting clothes and quickly dressed.

            “Where did you get these robes?” you asked, feeling the silky material under your curious hands. It was smooth and light as a breeze against your sensitive skin. Delicately embroidered clouds decorated the hem while ornate swirls flowed down the sleeves. Despite being from a noble family, you had never worn anything so extravagant before.

            One of Shihou’s golden eyes peeked open before he sat up, looking quite pleased to see you in his fancy clothes.

            “The King sent them,” he answered, a smug satisfaction in his cheeky smile. “Consider them a welcome gift.”

            The robes suddenly feel much heavier draped over you. “These are much too precious, I can’t except such royal clothes. They’ll be ruined in the forest.”

            “Don’t you know it’s rude to reject a King’s gift?” Shihou’s mood suddenly grew annoyed. The gold of his staring eyes seemed to faintly glow, a frown pulled at his lips, and his tail dangling from the tree swished in irritated lashes. “Besides,” he continued, gesturing to the pile of discarded clothing. “What else do you have to wear while your old robes still need washing?”

            It was strange to be chastised by a monkey but his logic was sound. Even if wearing gifted robes from the Monkey King himself seemed strange, you had few other options. Even worse, you had offended your new friend by insulting his King.

            “I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect,” you finally amended. “Would you be willing to pass on my thanks for your King’s generosity?”

            Shihou’s bristling softened at your acceptance. “You can thank him yourself. He’s invited you to stay at his palace in the mountain once you’ve healed up.”

            “His palace?!” you gasped, careful not to reject the offer as you fought down your growing alarm. “Why?”

            “You’re his honored guest, remember? I’ll lead you up the mountain myself once preparations are ready.” A sly smile lit up Shihou’s face. “Unless you’d rather stay in your cozy little cave down here?”

            Your answering grimace sent him into peals of howling laughter.

            “Fine,” you sighed, crossing your arms in defeat. “As long as the preparations don’t involve me being dinner.”

            He shook his head with a chuckle. “I swear, no one will put you on the menu no matter how tasty you look. I already promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and I plan to keep my word.” Despite his teasing words, Shihou’s tone was surprisingly serious.

            “I trust you to keep me safe,” you said, grateful for whatever protection he could provide.

            “I’m honored to do so. Now that that’s settled!” Dropping from his perch, Shihou landed on your shoulder, throwing you off balanced as he clung to the fabric of your robe. On instinct, your hand reached up to steady him as you found your footing. His golden-brown fur was surprisingly soft, almost as silky as your new robe. Instead of shying away from your touch, he leaned into it, chirruping at your tentative pets. Once he was satisfied, Shihou shook himself to focus and pointed at the tampered clothes. “Laundry time. Let’s get rid of this poison ivy mess, peach friend!”

[toadlett]

Doing a lazier version of @mortiscausa's fantastic arthurian drawing challenge! I'm using the prompts to inspire some pencil drawings based on the Mabinogion's tale of Kilwhch and Olwen (which in turn is the basis for a book I'm working on). First up, "Quest."

(edit: reuploaded the image without embarrasing typos oops!)

[silvaris]

reindeer tale by Aksenova Natalia

[brunhielda]

First- FANTASTIC analysis.

Also- names being connected to identity of self is ANCIENT. What we in the fantasy nerddom would call OLD MAGIC.

The most recognizable instance of this in folklore is the Fae that ask for your name and then steal it, leaving you hallow and unanchored, or magic users that have power over you as soon as they have your whole name.

It’s one of the more fun reasons we have middle names. Who knows your middle name? Generally your family and the government- the only people you willingly let have power over you. Otherwise, it’s meant to be a secret. 🤫

This has also been used subversively in more modern literature- you call out my true name to destroy or control me, but guess what? I no longer identify by that name. Those who love me - who TELL ME WHO I AM- call me something else. You have no power here. (will always recommend A Net of Dawn and Bones, that book is insanely good)

So, like most of Gaiman’s work, he uses very ancient mythological and folkloric concepts and applies them to modern relationships between people. And this is why I absolutely love him, despite struggling with his constant open endings.

Story threads that are ancient, that stick around this long, do so because there is something bone deep TRUE in them. Which is why I love old stories. And why stories from people like Neil Gaiman and Terry Prattchett hit you so hard- because these storytellers took stuff they already knew to be important and true and wove them into something modern enough to catch our attention. 👏 👏👏That is mastery right there.

In Coraline, there’s a recurring theme with names and identity, and I personally don't think it's talked about enough. 

(As a note, this is dealing largely with the book, not the movie, although there are some hints of this theme in the movie as well)

Coraline’s neighbors constantly get her name wrong, calling her “Caroline” and not “Coraline”, to which she persistently corrects them. Despite her attempts, they never get it right, until chapter 10, in which Mr Bobo (Mr Bobinsky) finally gets it right.

"It's Coraline, Mister Bobo," said Coraline. "Not Caroline. Coraline." "Coraline," said Mr Bobo, repeating her name to himself with wonderment and respect. "Very good, Coraline."

It should be noted that, until this chapter, Coraline did not know Mr Bobo’s name either. In fact, it had never even occurred to her that he had a name. Up until then, she had just been thinking of him as “the crazy old man upstairs”, not as a person with a name. This moment, with her learning his name and him getting her name right, is a moment of genuine understanding and connection between the two, humanizing them both to each other.

Coraline’s other neighbors get her name wrong, which is representative of them not listening when she says anything, really, such as her telling Miss Spink and Forcible that her parents are missing and them literally not even acknowledging it at all??

"How are your dear mother and father?" asked Miss Spink. "Missing," said Coraline. "I haven't seen either of them since yesterday. I'm on my own. I think I've probably become a single child family." "Tell your mother that we found the Glasgow Empire press clippings we were telling her about. She seemed very interested when Miriam mentioned them to her." "She's vanished under mysterious circumstances," said Coraline, "and I believe my father has as well." "I'm afraid we'll be out all day tomorrow, Caroline lovely," said Miss Forcible. "We'll be staying with April's niece in Royal Tunbridge Wells."

Mr Bobo gets her name right after being corrected (only after being corrected alongside her using his name, mind you, showcasing her making an effort to listen to and understand him as well), which is representative of him actually making an attempt to listen and understand her. This point is further illustrated by a conversation Coraline had with the Other Mr Bobo in chapter 10.

As Coraline entered he began to talk. "Nothing's changed, little girl," he said, his voice sounding like the noise dry leaves make as they rustle across a pavement. "And what if you do everything you swore you would? What then? Nothing's changed. You'll go home. You'll be bored. You'll be ignored. No one will listen to you, not really listen to you. You're too clever and too quiet for them to understand. They don't even get your name right."

He equates those in the real world not getting Coraline’s name right with them not listening to her, and fundamentally not understanding who she is. So, somebody getting her name right, then, shows them actually listening to her, and being willing to understand who she is.

The mice in the real world know more than they should be able to know, and they also get Coraline’s name right.

"The message is this. Don't go through the door." He paused. "Does that mean anything to you?" "No," said Coraline. The old man shrugged. "They are funny, the mice. They get things wrong. They got your name wrong, you know. They kept saying Coraline. Not Caroline. Not Caroline at all."

They seem to know about the other world, somehow, on some level, and the dangers it presents. Them getting her name right represents them knowing more than they should know, more than they are told. Animals in general seem to have this type of quality in Coraline, actually.

The cat does not have a name. It says so in chapter 4, that cats do not need names. It says that this is because cats know who they are. But humans need names, because they do not.

"Please. What's your name?" Coraline asked the cat. "Look, I'm Coraline. OK?" The cat yawned softly, carefully, revealing a mouth and tongue of astounding pinkness. "Cats don't have names," it said. "No?" said Coraline. "No," said the cat. "Now, you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names."

The cat shook its head. "No," it said. "I'm not the other anything. I'm me." It tipped its head on one side; green eyes glinted. "You people are spread all over the place. Cats, on the other hand, keep ourselves together. If you see what I mean."

This shows that, in humans, names are connected to our identities and who we are. Names are used to individualize and distinguish ourselves from each other. But cats do not need names to recognize each other, or be recognized.

"Oh. It's you," she said to the black cat. "See?" said the cat. "It wasn't so hard recognising me, was it? Even without names."

With or without names, it is still the same cat.

During the Other Miss Spink and Forcible’s performance, in chapter 4, they begin quoting Shakespeare. The specific quotes that they use are interesting to me when looked at under this lens of the importance of names, especially Miss Forcible’s.

"What's in a name?" asked Miss Forcible. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"I know not how to tell thee who I am," said Miss Spink to Miss Forcible.

Now, of course, this is just them quoting Shakespeare. But. Why these quotes specifically? They’re at the very least notable when discussing Coraline’s recurring theme of names. Especially the quote about the rose. It makes me think of what the cat said earlier, about how cats are sure of who they are so they don’t need names, about how Coraline didn’t need the cat’s name to be able to recognize it for who/what it was.

But, of course, this does not apply for humans. We need our names to be able to know ourselves, to be able to tell others who they are.

In chapter 6, Coraline wakes up and is disoriented. This disorientation is compared to the feeling one might experience upon being suddenly pulled out of a daydream. In this comparison, forgetting one’s name is equated with forgetting who one is and where one is.

Sometimes Coraline would forget who she was while she was daydreaming that she was exploring the Arctic, or the Amazon rainforest, or darkest Africa, and it was not until someone tapped her on the shoulder or said her name that Coraline would come back from a million miles away with a start, and all in the fraction of a second have to remember who she was, and what her name was, and that she was even there at all. Now there was the sun on her face, and she was Coraline Jones. Yes.

The ghost children have also forgotten their names, and with it most of who they were. In chapter 7, when Coraline is locked behind the mirror in the Other World, one of the ghost children says that names are the first things that one forgets after death.

"Who are you?" whispered Coraline. "Names, names, names," said another voice, all faraway and lost. "The names are the first thing to go, after the breath has gone, and the beating of the heart. We keep our memories longer than our names. I still keep pictures in my mind of my governess on some May morning, carrying my hoop and stick, and the morning sun behind her, and all the tulips bobbing in the breeze. But I have forgotten the name of my governess, and of the tulips too." "I don't think tulips have names," said Coraline. "They're just tulips." "Perhaps," said the voice sadly. "But I have always thought that these tulips must have had names. They were red, and orange-and-red, and red-and-orange-and-yellow, like the embers in the nursery fire of a winter's evening. I remember them."

The ghost children may have their memories, but they have largely forgotten who they were. They may remember their tulips, and certain strong memories, but there is very, very little left of them, and they have forgotten who they once were, they have forgotten their names.

"That is why we could not leave here, when we died. She kept us, and she fed on us, until now we're nothing left of ourselves, only snakeskins and spider-husks. Find our secret hearts, young mistress."

"She will take your life and all you are and all you care'st for, and she will leave you with nothing but mist and fog. She'll take your joy. And one day you'll awake and your heart and soul will have gone. A husk you'll be, a wisp you'll be, and a thing no more than a dream on waking, or a memory of something forgotten."

The Other Mother stole their hearts and their souls and their selves. She stole who they were away from them, their identities and names and the names of those they loved, leaving nothing in her wake.

The same ghost that talked about the tulips and the names of the tulips struggles to answer when Coraline asks their gender, as well, and when they do eventually give an answer they seem somewhat unsure of it, as shown by the word choice of “perhaps” and “I believe”

"A boy, perhaps, then," continued the one whose hand she was holding. "I believe I was once a boy." And it glowed a little more brightly in the darkness of the room behind the mirror.

(I personally take this quote, specifically it "glow[ing] a little more brightly" after coming to this conclusion, to mean either that the ghost is happy at realizing that he was once a boy, or even to mean that he has become somewhat more tangible upon this realization; upon remembering something about his self, and his identity.)

As an aside, it's noteworthy to me that we never learn the Other Mother’s true name. She is simply “The Other Mother” and “The Beldam.” Never is an actual name applied to her, only titles. We do not truly know who, or what, she is. Beings without names are shrouded in mystery (or should i say mist-ery). The ghost children are benevolent mysterious beings, the cat is an ambivalent-leaning-helpful mysterious being, and the other mother is a distinctly malevolent mysterious being.

"Who are you?" asked Coraline. "I'm your other mother," said the woman.

"She?" "The one who says she's your other mother," said the cat. "What is she?" asked Coraline. The cat did not answer, just padded through the pale mist beside Coraline.

But in conclusion, names in Coraline are extremely important. I’m sure there’s probably more that I'm missing, and feel free to add onto this, but basically—

People need names to know and remember who they are, and forgetting one’s name is the first step to losing the rest of who one is. Names humanize a person; with a name, they are less shrouded in mystery, more clear.

Knowing somebody's name helps one connect to and better understand that person; it is the first step in getting to know them and see them as a full person, the transition from “the crazy man upstairs” to “Mr Bobo”. Names, to people at least, are one of the fundamental building blocks of who we are.

[citizenoftmrrwlnd]

stimboard for : a fairykin with trinkets, nature, flowers, and muted greens

x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x

[strijkdesign]

"Lethe"

My painting for today's Bad Apple Artists auction themed "Elysium & the underworld" The auction kicks off today at 5 pm EST and runs until the same time on September 30th, over at the BA's Facebook page. Don't miss it!

Lethe is one of the five rivers of the Underworld in Greek mythology. her waters wipe away memories of those who drink or immerse themselves in it. In the afterlife, souls had to drink from it to forget their earthly lives and start anew, free from past memories.

I hope you enjoy the painting and the auction event! Stay tuned for more updates, and thank you for your support!

[lexreadsdiversely]

The first 7 are specific subgenres that I struggle with, others are thrown in for fun. Please don't say "how could you forget X?" I didn't. I'll add an option for those who have very strong opinions about something not on here. No options for "I don't read" or "none of these." This poll is not for you, sorry!

Feel free to give your reason, but remember that this is about a genre you really wish you liked, not "ugh I hate this genre, it's awful." Looking forward to seeing your responses!

[justjudethoughts]

Me: *reads any scholarship by Tolkien or Lewis, any mythology, any fairytale, any defense of fairytales, anything hinting at the One True Myth*

Me: I want to make something beautiful So Bad that I will keel over and die if I don't.

[svnnnne]

joker love week 2023: myths & fairytales

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

sometimes people try to make Star Wars science fiction and that's where they go wrong

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi!

My best friend's short story collection just came out!! (It's here on Goodreads).

Ancient British myths reimagined According to stories, we share our world with a menagerie of mysterious creatures. What happens when those creatures appear in the modern world? Do fairies still like traditional offerings of herbs and spices? Do unicorns still live in forests? Do sea serpents still yearn to eat innocent maidens? This collection of stories brings myths from across the UK to a modern world with offices, cities and fast food restaurants. The consequences are often comedic, sometimes horrific and always surprising.

I haven't written my proper goodreads review for it yet (it's on the agenda) but as a huge queer fairytale fan I loved it!

The style is just delightfully cosy and funny compared to anything I could ever come up with. I also really like that at the end she talks about all of the original versions of the myths, so if you're interested in local folklore from the UK it's also great for that.

Give it a go if you fancy reading about Jack Frost falling in love with the Green Man, goblins running amok in the office printer, ghost dogs and more!

You can talk to her on Twitter or whatever it's called @ficcaholic.