#squirrel myths

[katy-books]

Check this out.

I know this is a myth. Red squirrels do not cross rivers in little boats. But it's driving me mad that I can't find anything about the myth on the internet. The writers of this book (Things in the Forest by Mary & Elizabeth Kirby 1874) even say that Linnaeus observed it in Lapland, so why can't I find it!?

Anyway, the internet is sorely lacking in antique images of squirrels in boats (or on rafts?) so I'm putting one here. You're welcome.

If anyone can find out where this idea came from I'd love to see it because I can't find a trace on the biggest encyclopedia that's ever existed (the internet).

[deduction-substitute]

I hope people understand this

[amygdalae]

Yes!!!

Ratatoskr!!! Yes!!!

[briefbestiary]

The legendary Norse squirrel who spends their day climbing from the very top to the very bottom of Yggdrasil and back again. It maintains the conflict between the eagle atop the tree and the dragon that chews at the tree's roots by ferrying messages between the two.

[yoga-onion]

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (8)

A for Ailm (Pine) - December 23rd Birth of the Divine child

Stars: Mars & Sun; Gender: female; Metal: gold; Patrons: Artemis, Ariadne, Rhea, Cybele, Druantia, Dionysus, Bacchus; Symbols: foresight, purity, objectivity, birth

The Ogham alphabet has 5 vowels. The number 5 is the sacred number of the 'White Goddess'. Like all five vowel trees, pine is a female tree. And it is also the first vowel A, the tree of birth.

In ancient Greece, the pine tree was the goddess of the moon and dedicated to Artemis, who was responsible for the birth of children.The birth of Christ is celebrated on 25 December, and the Christmas tree decorated on this day is Norway spruce. The spruce is a member of the pine tree family. Although Christ's birthday is now celebrated on 25 December, it is believed that in earlier times our ancestors celebrated the birth of the Son of God on 23 December.

23 December marked the beginning of the 'Half Year of Light' and the birth of the "Son of God, the King of the Flourishing Half Year", and a gift of the wisdom of our ancestors.

On the winter solstice, druids in Europe lit large bonfires of pine and yew. Around the same time, the festival of the Druid Queen, Druantia, also took place. These large bonfires, which were built on the winter solstice, were passed on to the Yule Log. While the Yule festival lasted, people lit candles on pine trees and decorated them with glittering objects. The Christmas tree is the successor to this custom.

The ancients believed that the pine cones were cleverly guided by magical powers, as they spiralled and followed the same clockwise direction on their trunks as the earth around the sun. Yellow pollen was utilised in the 'money-accumulation spell' as yellow attracts gold. Pine branches are said to prevent evil from entering the house if hung over doors and windows, and old people are said to be rejuvenated if they carry pine cones.

Futhermore, Native Americans put a bag full of pine needles under their pillows on the floor when they have insomnia. In ancient Egypt, doctors in the Pharaoh's service used pine tar and turpentine oil to treat pneumonia.

Now, we hope you all have a happy Christmas under the tree again this year.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (8)

AはAilm (ﾏﾂ) - 12月23日 神の子の誕生

星: 火星＆太陽; 性: 女性; 金属: 金; 守護神: アルテミス、アリアドネ、レア、キュベレ、ドルアンティア、ディオニックス、バッカス; シンボル: 先見の明、清浄、客観性、誕生

オガム文字には5つの母音がある。数字の5は「白い女神」の聖なる数字。5つの母音のすべての木がそうであるように、マツも女性の木、そして最初の母音のA、誕生の木でもある。

古代ギリシャでは、マツは月の女神で、子供の誕生をつかさどるアルテミスに捧げられた。キリストの誕生を祝う12月25日、この日に飾るクリスマス・ツリーはノルウェートウヒ。トウヒはマツ科の木である。現在、キリストの誕生日は12月25日とされているが、その昔、祖先は12月23日に神の御子の誕生を祝っていたとされる。12月23日は「光の半年間」の幕開けと「神の子・盛りゆく半年の王」の誕生を一緒の祝う先祖の知恵の産物であった。

冬至の日、ヨーロッパのドルイドはマツやイチイの大きな焚き火をした。これは、太陽神を冥界から呼び戻し、この世に再生させるためであった。ユール祭が続く間、人々はマツの木に蝋燭を灯したり、きらきら光るものを飾ったりした。それは、生命の源である太陽神の聖なる光を守るためであった。また、その光は暗い冬の間も常緑樹の植物に蓄えられると古代人は信じていたからだ。その習慣を受け継いだのがクリスマスツリーである。

松ぼっくりは、螺旋を描きながら、太陽の周りをめぐる地球と同じように時計回りに幹につくため、魔法の力を巧みに導く存在であると、古代人は信じていた。黄色い花粉は黄色がゴールドを引き寄せるとして「お金がたまる呪い」に活用された。マツの枝はドアや窓にかけると邪悪なものが家の中に侵入できなくなり、老人は松ぼっくりを持ち歩くとして若返ると言われている。

さらに、ネイティブ・アメリカンは不眠症のとき、マツの葉を詰めた袋を枕の下に敷いて床につく。古代エジプトでは、ファラオに仕える医者が肺炎の治療に松ヤニとテレビン油を使ったという。

さあ、今年もまたツリーにかこまれて、みなさん楽しいクリスマスをお過ごしください。

[rogue-taxidermy-of-sarina-brewer]

Entering into urban lore relatively recently is the purple squirrel phenomenon. And theories abound. The first purple rodent was purportedly spotted in 1997 in Minnesota. The second sighting wasn’t until 2008 when photos of a purple squirrel made the newspapers in England. Then, in 2012 a Pennsylvanian couple trapped a purple squirrel. Before releasing the animal they took several photos of it that gained international internet attention. Many species of animals with silver or gray fur can appear to have a lavender hue under certain lighting conditions and this could account for some purple squirrel sightings, however, it can’t explain the intense purplish shade of the animal photographed in England or the specimen captured in Pennsylvania. Many people dismiss the photos as hoaxes saying the images have been digitally altered or the animals were dyed. But other people believe purple squirrels could actually exist and have offered varying explanations. Some suggest the animals came into contact with discarded ink toner, while others claim a tumble into the reservoir of a porta-potty chemical toilet could have tinged their fur. Another theory proposed their fur became stained while feeding on pokeberries which are used by crafters to produce organic dyes for textiles. There has also been some disconcerting conjecture that their color could be caused by the ingestion of large amounts of bromide, a waste product of the natural gas mining industry. Naturally occurring bromine-like compounds allow some species of sea snails to produce purple secretions, but bromine is not normally found in land mammals. Whatever the case, the actual existence of these squirrels remains unproven, thus earning our little purple friends urban legend status. You now have your Google rabbit hole for the evening. You’re welcome.

[nomaishuttle]

literally consumed by thoughts abt my freaks .

[woolydemon]

having mutuals that are into warriorcat books means I see discourse posts like "berrywhisker was MEAN and said a slur and killed bunnytoes and if u like them ur a misogynist" and I'm like "uh-huh yeah uh-huh. Ok. My cat would do that too"

[beepsquirrel]

Y'all I miss all the canceled Roblox myths ✊😔

[dionysianivy]

𝐌𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐧

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙣 𝙀𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙭 🌾🍎🕯

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

What is Mabon?

Mabon, celebrated around September 21 to September 29, marks the autumnal equinox and the second harvest of the year. It’s a time of balance, as the hours of light and dark stand equal, symbolizing the transition between summer and winter. It's a time when witches and practitioners honor the changing seasons, express gratitude for the Earth's abundance, and connect with the energies of balance and transition. The term "Mabon" for this celebration is named after Mabon ap Modron, a character from Welsh mythology. It is often associated with the mythological theme of the abducted and imprisoned child who later becomes a hero, which parallels the changing seasons.

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Who is Mabon Ap Modron?

Mabon ap Modron, also known as Maponus, is a character from Welsh mythology. In some versions of the myth, Mabon is portrayed as a divine hero or a child who was abducted from his mother, Modron, and imprisoned. He is rescued after 3 years and plays a significant role in Welsh mythological tales. The name "Mabon" itself means "son" or "young man" in Welsh, and it is connected to the theme of rebirth and the return of the light.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Hades × Persephone and the Autumn Equinox

Legend has it that on the last day of summer, Hades, the god of the Underworld, saw Persephone picking flowers in a field. He immediately fell in love with her and abducted her, wanting to keep her by his side as the queen of the dead. Upon discovering the disappearance of her daughter, Demeter, the goddess of harvest, set out to find her. Unable to locate Persephone, Demeter’s sorrow and despair were so overwhelming that the flowers, trees, and all vegetation withered, bringing all growth on Earth to a halt. The gods of Olympus, who were powerless to ignore the prayers of humans, reached a compromise with Hades regarding Persephone’s return. She would spend only six months each year with Hades in the Underworld. To avenge herself, Demeter decreed that during those six months, nature would mourn, and nothing would grow on Earth until Persephone ascended again from the Underworld.

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Magical Correspondences

Planets: Sun, Mercury

Season: Autumn 

Element: Water 

Time of Day: Dusk

Tarot: The Hermit 

Colors: Brown, Maroon, Red, Orange, Purple, Yellow, Gold

Herbs: Rosemary, Sage, Thyme, Chamomile, Cedarwood, Juniper, Mugwort, Dried Apple

Fruits: Grapes, Apples, Pears, Plums, Blackberry, Pomegranates

Vegetables: Carrots, Corn, Onions, Pumpkin, Squash

Runes: Dagaz, Inguz, Eihwaz, Jera

Crystals: Amethyst, Agate, Citrine, Tiger's Eye, Amber, Yellow Topaz

Trees: Apple, Oak, Aspen, Cedar

Goddesses: Pomona, Demeter, Epona, Inanna, Ishtar, Kore, Modron, the Morrigan, Persephone, Banbha, Autumnus, Hestia

Gods: Dionysus, Mabon ap Modron, Hades, Dumuzi, the Green Man, Hermes, Thoth, Cernunnos, Osiris, Freyr

Flowers: Marigold, Chrysanthemum, Aster

Animals: Deer, Dog, Wolf, Blackbird, Squirrel, Salmon, Swan

Magical uses: Abundance, Accomplishment, Agriculture, Balance, Goals, Gratitude, Grounding, Harvest, New Beginnings, Reflection

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Activities to do:

🍎 create your own Cornucopia

🍎 make a special Mabon jar

🍎 bake an autumn recipe

🍎 eat apple pie

🍎 harvest your garden

🍎 light a bonfire and dance or tell stories with your loved ones around it

🍎 do a guided meditation to welcome the new season

🍎 clean your garden

🍎 listen to Mabon music on Youtube or Spotify(there are plenty of playlist you can find!)

🍎 spend time with your deity/deities

🍎 grab some autumn flowers and bring them into your home

🍎 rest and relax♡

🍎 read about Mabon

🍎 clean your house to prepare for the season

🍎 take a walk outside to connect with nature and be grateful for the summer that has passed and warmly welcome the beauty of autumn

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Food and Drinks:

apple pie, apple cider, wine, grapes, root vegetables, apples, cornbread, baked good made from wheat or grains, cakes with cinnamon or nutmeg, roasted meat, pork chops, mashed potatoes, peach jams, fruit tarts, apples in all forms, pumpkin pie

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useful sources: Magie Blanche by Eric Pier Sperandio

gifs credit: Pinterest

Tip jar🍎🌾

[iguanodont]

My gift for @mathpope from a recent discord “secret Santa” art exchange! I give you the great California Condor, king of North American vultures, lording over a megafaunal feast.

Some notes on the border art: the tree branch flourishes up top depict bristlecone trees, another unique Pleistocene holdover that clings to existence in remote parts of California. The insects in the curve of the mammoth tusks are condor lice (Colpocephalum californici), a parasite that fed exclusively on California condors and went extinct when the 22 birds left in existence were captured and de-loused for the breeding program to save their species. The woven art on the sides depicts two indigenous myths about condors, left side as a beneficial entity, saving humanity from a primordial flood (Wiyot), and right side as a bloodthirsty antagonist that gets beheaded by Ground Squirrel (Mono). The bones overhead (mammoth, moose, horse) are all Pleistocene megafauna that the condor would have been specialized in feeding on.

Thanks for another fun trade!

[ghcstao3]

siren ghost and sailor soap?

sort of inspired by the pirates of the caribbean sirens scene because it’s one of my favourite things of that series. also i got a little carried away

-

Over the many, many years of traversing the Seven Seas for his life’s work, Soap has become intimately familiar with the abundant myths and legends about the ocean and what lies beneath.

Of course, most of these hold no truth. Most of these are only mere stories to quell the anxieties of sailors, or to provide reasoning to strange occurrences seemingly otherwise unexplainable.

Sirens are, unfortunately, the exception.

Ruthless, ravenous creatures—they’re the worst fear of any sailor who knows the worth of his own life, and like most things that make mortal men afraid, they’ve been transformed into weapons.

Soap only knows that sirens are real because of what happens to many prisoners at sea—from the brig they’re moved to rowboats without paddles, abandoned and forced to sing until the sirens appear to lure them into the water, where flesh would be torn from bone with razor sharp teeth.

It’s a terrifying sight. The creatures are like sharks called to blood with the way they appear, like piranhas with the way they feast.

It’s horrifying. Fascinating. And Soap has vowed to never let himself end up on one of those boats.

But alas. Fate has other plans for him.

Soap had been reluctant to join the crew of Captain Philip Graves when presented with the opportunity, but the pay promised had been good, the work simple, and the destination somewhere he’s never been.

But what Soap hadn’t realized is that Graves likes to take prisoners. He likes to engage in unfair combat with other ships, and operates almost like a pirate, though not explicitly enough to be considered one himself.

Soap realizes his mistake far too late when he wanders down to the brig one night, otherwise unable to sleep. They’re two weeks into their voyage by now, and Soap knows there’s people in the jail—but he hadn’t known the state of them.

Most already without a secure amount of food outside their makeshift cell, they’re emaciated, wasting away in the hull of the vessel. They’re barely responsive when Soap knocks on the bars of the hold and pokes someone’s damp shoulder. Someone weakly latches onto Soap’s sleeve and begs for nothing in particular, and he feels awful for not having known about this sooner.

So he begins sneaking them food, brings them drink. Squirrels away what extra he can without anyone noticing he’s stopped finishing his meals.

Except someone must notice. Because, nearing the end of their journey, Graves is waking him in the dead of night and pulling him into the Captain’s quarters.

Soap swallows the pounding heartbeat in his throat as Graves slowly crosses the room to take a seat at his desk. He’s never liked the man, not one bit—but this just feels unnecessary. Taunting.

“A little bird tells me you’ve been keeping our prisoners fed,” Graves drawls. “Even though, from what I recall, prisoners are the enemy. I don’t suppose you really have been helping them out, have you, MacTavish?”

It’s a trap, Soap knows. Only a fool wouldn’t be able to tell Graves’s question isn’t really a question at all. Graves has his answer, and waits on Soap’s response if only to entertain him with the idea of escape.

Soap knows just as well that there’s hardly a point in trying to lie.

He lifts his chin as he looks straight into Graves’s eyes to tell him, “I have been. They’re still people.”

Graves chuckles lowly, rising from his seat. He rounds the desk, sitting back on its edge with his arms folded across his chest.

It might be intimidating, if Soap were anyone else. If he were a lesser man.

“Well, then—since you like ‘em so much,” Graves says, “surely you won’t mind joining them.”

Soap supplies Graves with no visible reaction. He doesn’t fight as Graves calls for his men to throw Soap in the brig, doesn’t put up any fuss as they try to cajole him.

If Soap has to be imprisoned for doing what’s right, then he at least won’t let Graves have the satisfaction of knowing Soap’s internal panic.

Because Soap knows what Graves plans to do with his prisoners. He’s known all along.

He predicts they’re maybe a day from port when they’re shoved off the ship and ordered into the decaying rowboat, left to drift away—not too far, however, as they’re still tethered to the ship. Because once all prisoners have been drowned, the boat will be reeled back and used again the next time Graves and his crew venture out to terrorize the waters.

No one has the energy to sing, to lure their cruel punishment to them. Soap’s half-convinced some of the others might just jump into the water on their own.

But they have to sing. Especially when a bullet ricochets off the boat and splinters the wood as encouragement.

Despite his time spent out at sea, Soap isn’t overly familiar with many shanties. He just follows along with whatever is mumbled in a weak tune, dreading as the volume builds with a second bullet, and the water below begins to churn. Glancing over the edge, Soap swears he sees the flash of a tail.

The first one appears shortly, singing along to the song like she’s entirely familiar with the melody. Soap feels the pull, though perhaps not as strongly as he imagined he would, if ever he ended up in these circumstances.

He wonders, briefly and distantly, if it has to do with the fact that he’s not really all that into women.

Soap snorts. Wouldn’t that be something.

But as more sirens appear, the pull grows stronger. Soap begins to feel swayed by the song, gone from muttered and off-kilter to something beautiful, hypnotic. The boat bobs with the weight of their new company and the prisoners that rush to the sides to get a better look at the sirens as if they aren’t the dangerous creatures they’re known to be.

Still, though, Soap isn’t completely compelled to join them in the water. He stays put in the centre and grounds his teeth—though he does gasp and reach out when the first prisoner is pulled under, and red soon blossoms across the surface of the water.

Then he appears.

The whole world seems to disappear for just a moment, when Soap looks into big, brown eyes.

The siren’s voice is deeper than the rest, soothing, and though Soap’s hindbrain screams at him that hidden behind the enchanting exterior, the porcelain skin and the straw-blond hair, there lives evil—he can’t help but lean in.

As Soap gets closer, the boat continuing to rock as more prisoners fall victim, the siren’s singing pauses just long enough for him to offer Soap a smile, saccharine, close-lipped. He reaches out an arm to Soap, calloused fingers caressing Soap’s cheek, cupping his jaw.

Soap can’t help but melt into the touch, its simultaneous warmth and coolness, subconsciously chasing it as it retracts, eyes fluttering shut with a short, pleased sigh.

But with the singing fading from the others, Soap’s eyes suddenly snap open. The siren still holds him, still leads Soap with that gentle touch and deceptively kind gaze, but Soap resists. He doesn’t know when he’d gotten to leaning halfway over the edge of the boat, but he scrambles backward to the opposite side, as far as he can get from this siren.

Soap comes to the startling realization that he’s the only one left.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” the siren croons. He props himself up on the edge of the boat, arms thick with corded muscle to show the real power of this creature. He leans forward, the boat tilting with his added weight. “I don’t bite.”

Soap glances nervously about the empty rowboat, gaze accidentally straying the bloodstained waters that surround them.

“I beg to differ,” Soap says weakly.

The siren laughs softly before slowly sinking back into the water. The boat sways. Soap shakes.

Everything goes silent for a suspiciously long moment before there’s a disturbance in the water and the siren appears at the side of the boat where Soap has taken refuge. He’s singing quietly again and Soap feels that pull, so he moves away, screws his eyes shut, and jams his fingers in his ears in an attempt to block it out.

It doesn’t work, not when the singing gets louder, and Soap’s attempt is rendered useless.

“Shut up,” Soap growls. “Please just shut. Up.”

The singing does cease, though only to make way for a deep, full laughter that is somehow tugging on Soap’s conscience with more force than any melody so far.

When Soap blinks his eyes open, the siren is perched on the edge of the boat, arms splayed one on top of the other, his head resting over them. He’s smiling, even once his laughter has died down, a glint of something in his dark eyes—maybe not quite sinister, but certainly mischievous.

“They’re not letting you back on that ship, you know,” the siren says, as if it isn’t obvious. “So you can either come with me—“

“And what? Be drowned? Eaten?” Soap snaps. “Thanks, but I’d rather rot right here.”

“Suit yourself,” the siren hums.

To Soap’s surprise, he actually disappears back into the water. And despite the waves—the ocean seems to have finally calmed.

Maybe Soap did have the tiny, illogical hope that he’d be brought back to the ship. Maybe Soap did have the tiny, logical hope that this siren would just put him out of his misery.

Either way, now he just sits in silence, listening to waves lap up against the hull as the rowboat rocks lazily with the current. Though the peace surely only stretches on for a few minutes, it feels like hours.

Stupidly, Soap goes to inspect the depths. To make certain he’s really been left alone.

Because that’s when he’s pulled in.

Soap barely has time to yell out before his mouth is filled with the overwhelming, stinging taste of salt, unfamiliar arms wrapping securely around his frame so he can’t wriggle free. His shouts are muffled by the water, and he feels the cold soak into his bones as he’s dragged deeper and deeper. The light fades, or maybe it’s the lack of oxygen.

The last thing Soap sees is the siren’s grin, all fangs and malice before everything goes black.

But then, after an unknown amount of time—Soap wakes up to the slow drip, drip, drip of water on a stone floor.

He’s in a cave.

He’s in a cave, and there’s a light source somewhere, and the siren is watching him.

Soap coughs, clearing water from his lungs. He chokes out, “Why… what did you—“

The siren shrugs. “I don’t eat people I like.”

Soap frowns, still coughing. “You…”

“Call me Ghost,” the siren says, then dives into the pool he’d been wading in at the entrance of the cave, and swims away—long, elegant tail flicking behind him as he leaves.

And while many, many thought swirl around Soap’s head as he gradually gathers his bearings about the situation, the clearest of them all is also the simplest; what the hell kind of a name is Ghost?

If only he could guess.

And if only he could know what’s meant to happen to him next.

[genericpuff]

Hello! In the wake of Lore Olympus’s end I went back a re-read some of it and one thing that I didn’t know I had such a problem with was THE FOOD.

Seriously all the food in Lore Olympus is either a png, a peice of bread or a mass of green stuff we are to assume is lettuce or something. Like when I read Alex Part 2 I remember being shocked at seeing real fucking food 😭😭😭 thank you for actually drawing food. ❤️

haha there are edits we've done in the community where we've given Persephone actual food! it's definitely weird for there to be so little food in the comic, especially when it's a Greek myth retelling. It's apparently canon that Persephone lives on a high-sugar diet, but that still doesn't explain why she's eating like a squirrel 😭😆 (plus she never told Hades this in the comic so like??? Man is deadass preparing himself a steak and leaving her with tiny ass tarts LOL)

Plus for some reason Rachel tries to do the joke of "haha vegetarianism is so different and looked down upon!" but that makes zero sense in the context of LO, a Greek myth retelling, because the Mediterranean diet is predominantly plant-based. Like, it's really not any sort of counter-culture thing to be a vegetarian in Greece like it has been in, say, America, which is clearly where Rachel gets like 90% of her inspiration and influences.

Anyways here's one of my own edits where I gave Persephone an actual meal LOL Let the poor girl eat 😭

[toskarin]

ohh i get it they're called TOSKARIN games because just like the great squirrel RATATOSKR of myth and legend you run up and down the world tree each day carrying messages between NIDHOGG and THE EAGLES perched at the crown.

[littlemarianah]

My headcannons about District 12

Katniss's parents' names are Ruth and Robin.

Ruth never knew that Peeta's father liked her. My boy never tried to get closer lol

The ages and names of the Mellark brothers are: Peeta (16y), Rye (18y) and Bran (21y)

Katniss's father was a leader among the miners, they spread words of revolt with music and tried to change the inhumane conditions in the mines. That's why he was killed with his colleagues in a fake accident.

The miners have work songs that they sing every morning on the way to the mines.

The water is very polluted because of coal mining waste in the rivers. You need to buy packaged water to drink.

Robin and Gale's father did not get along and always stole from each other's bushmeat customers, but they were friends during their childhood.

Gale's grandmother is Maude Ivory

Katniss and Gale are actually long distance cousins lol

Rory Hawthorne has a crush on Prim and kisses her in D13 (hihi 👉👈)

They have many respiratory illnesses because of the coal dust.

A tradition for boys who reach the age to work in the mines is to have their faces smeared with coal by their father.

The birth rate is high because the Capital does not provide any form or education for birth control

Most women have their first child at age 18.

Ruth's parents are alive and still keep the pharmacy running, but they refuse to talk to their daughter.

Peeta has many cousins.

Gale is very popular with girls, until kissing them. Because he's a really bad kisser lol

Katniss Everdeen is a legend! Everyone has heard of her. The girl who always shoots squirrels in the eyes.

There are many myths about forests, children are terrified of the sounds of wolves, they think they are monsters

There is a tradition that brides have to put flowers and herbs inside their bras on their wedding day to attract good luck.

The most stylish thing you can have in District 12 are cowboy boots. Everyone wants one, but only the richest kids have.

At school there are three types of sports that you can choose from: wrestling, running and distance jumping.

[fairyhaos]

. ˚ lost in this green (and in your eyes)

pairing: wood nymph!joshua x gn!reader

genre: fluff, magic realism, meet cute, besties!97z

word count: 2371

warnings: brief mentions of fainting

notes: i just. i just love wood nymph!shua a lot okay pls he'd fit the concept so devastatingly well

summary: you're lost in the forest, and it's terrible and terrifying and you're all alone but then... well, you meet someone, and suddenly you find yourself wondering if fairytales and myths really are just tales.

"Lee Seokmin, you are so dead."

You turn around in a circle, looking around for any recognisable objects around you, desperately trying to find a way out. When you see none that could possibly mark out this section of the forest as different to where you’ve been traipsing through earlier, you sigh, frustrated. 

This was all Seokmin's fault. Okay, maybe not entirely his fault, but it was all his stupid dare to get you to fetch him a squirrel from the woods (what sort of dare was that, anyway?) and now… Well, now you're lost. 

It had all started when Mingyu had abruptly announced that you should go on an outing for fun, and then Minghao, being Minghao, had insisted that all four of you take a trip into the countryside for the outing, smack-dab in the middle of nowhere for a 'healing day out' in a field surrounded by trees. It had been fun, for all of one hour before you'd devolved into a game of truth or dare that had ultimately led you to venture into the surrounding trees to go catch a squirrel for Lee Seokmin. 

Oh, that guy really is so dead if you manage to make it out.

"Seokmin? Mingyu? Can anyone hear me?"

The wind rustles the leaves in reply, almost mocking, and distantly there's the sound of some insect creaking. Everything around you is green and brown, and even when you look up, the blue sky and bright sun is covered by the dense foliage. This is a little bit terrible. 

Sighing, you continue on your trek through the woods. Not being the best with directions, you'd kind of lost where you were going about 5 minutes into the forest, and so you have no idea if you're heading back to the field or if you're going in an entirely different direction. You just hope you're not walking around in circles, because that would—

You pause in your tracks. For a moment, there’s only the sound of a pigeon cooing somewhere, but you listen harder, certain that it was a distinctive voice that you heard. And then, there it is again, louder, and you’re sure of it. There's a voice, calling for you, and it sounds a lot like Minghao. 

“Minghao!” Immediately, you’re scrambling towards the noise, running along the soft forest floor, accidentally kicking bushes and almost tripping over tree roots. “Minghao, oh my god, what took you guys so long?”

But abruptly, Minghao stops yelling for you, and the forest is silent again. The trees are tall, looming, now, and you kind of wish it was Mingyu’s stupid height looming over you rather than these dark, unresponsive trees. 

You wait, for several moments, straining to hear Minghao’s voice again. But when he calls, it’s in a completely different direction, so you curse to yourself and start running off again.

You’re deeper into the woods now, you’re sure of it, because the trees are denser and there’s less light and the sound of animals and insects have disappeared. The air is still as you run through the forest, still following the faint sound of Minghao’s voice, and when you stop, it’s as if the entire world is silent, with not even the trees making a breath of noise. 

Minghao’s voice disappears, yet again, and now you’re worried that your brain is playing tricks on you. The bushes you brush against are getting thornier, bigger, difficult to get past, and the trees look like they’ve enlarged and now seem to try and slap you across the face with their rough branches. 

You’re well and truly lost now. Minghao’s voice doesn’t sound again, and you turn around aimlessly in circles, hoping that somehow, you’ll magically find an exit. 

But then. In the eerie stillness of the forest, any sound and movement echoes through the trees, and you hear a branch snap to your left.

“Hello?” you call out, hoping it’s just Minghao or one of the others behind the bushes, waiting to jump out at you. “Who is it?”

There’s silence.

And then a bush rustles to your right.

You whip your head around. “Come on, stop playing. Just show yourself, I know you’re there.”

There’s a good chance, you know, that it’s just a woodland creature or something, but everything in this part of the woods seems so dead and dark that part of you is sure that it has to be a person rather than an animal.

Slowly, gingerly, you creep towards the bush. It rustles again, and you flinch, but then the distinct sound of Minghao’s giggles comes from the bush and you move forwards, and just as you’re peering over…

“Boo!”

A person jumps out at you, yelling in Minghao’s voice. His hair is long, his eyes are large, and he looks like he has little stars around his doe eyes and he’s smiling widely, wickedly, delighted.

You scream, and he laughs with Minghao’s laugh, and the last thing you see are his eyes suddenly widening in horror as the world fades to black and you fall to the floor.

All you can think is, ‘That wasn’t Minghao’.

————————————— 🌿

When you regain consciousness again, there’s a man leaning over you. His eyes are large and he has little stars around his doe eyes, too, and for a moment you’re sure that it was the person who had scared you who was now going to try and kidnap you.

You yelp, attempting to scramble away, but the man just shushes you, gently and firmly placing hands on your shoulders to keep you against the tree you’re propped up on.

“I’m sorry,” he says, chuckling a little. “Jeonghan is a bit of a menace, but he means well. He just loves imitating voices, and he didn’t intend to take the joke that far. He meant you no harm, truly.”

The man’s hands are now on your face, brushing your cheeks softly, making soft sounds to calm down your racing heart. Now that you’re properly looking at him, the man focused on dislodging a leaf that fell on your shoulder, you can see he’s not the same man as earlier. Not Jeonghan, or whatever this man had called him. But you stiffen up, still, unsure if you can trust him.

He looks up at you then, warm eyes meeting yours. His eyes are constantly turned up at the corners, you notice faintly. He looks like a baby deer.

“I won’t hurt you,” the man says. “I promise. No one here wants to hurt you.” He pauses. “At least, not intentionally.”

Well. That doesn’t exactly make you feel reassured.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He smiles again, and you realise that even his mouth is constantly turned up at the corners. 

He’s so pretty.

“Let me try again. I’m Joshua,” pretty man says, and he sits back a little to hold out his hand. “And I noticed that you’re a little lost here. I was wondering if I could maybe help lead you out?”

You look down at the hand, surprised to find yourself endeared by the action as you reach out to shake it. His hand is warm, too, as warm as his eyes, rough and soft in yours at the same time. Your heart is still racing when you release his hand, but now it’s for an entirely different reason.

“Y/N,” you reply, deciding that, at this point, you’re not sure you have anything to lose by following this pretty man. At least, if you die, you’ll die by the hands of a gorgeous stranger. “And I think any help would be much appreciated.”

Joshua smiles again, and takes your hand to pull you upright, swiftly walking off, hand still clasped with yours.

The woods are still silent, but it no longer feels as if every sound has been suffocated—rather, it’s a peaceful silence, and maybe it’s brought on by the peace you feel with a warm hand firmly holding yours, and a presence beside you that’s quiet and gentle and relaxing.

He’s silent the entire way, walking with you through trees as if he’s following an invisible path, pushing away branches for you and gently guiding you to one side to avoid tripping on roots. You can’t help but glance at him, often, because he’s so pretty and so calm and, in turn, it makes you feel calm too.

There are flowers weaved into his hair and they wave gently in the wind that has managed to come to life again. The forest feels lighter now, less terrifying, and birds now seem to chirp cheerfully in the trees above you.

One bird comes and lands on Joshua’s shoulder as you walk and you startle in surprise, but the man doesn’t even bat an eye, smiling down at it in greeting.

“Well, hello there,” he says. “What do you want now, you little rascal?”

Joshua’s tone is fond, affectionate, and when the bird chirrups, he laughs. 

“Yes, this person is very pretty, isn’t it?” he chuckles, and it makes you blush slightly. Nevermind the fact that he’s talking to a bird. “But unfortunately, they’re not here to stay. We need to lead them out.”

The bird trills, but Joshua just laughs again, and then it flies off.

You watch it go, curiously, and then look at Joshua, who seems completely unfazed by what would have been, to any other normal person, an incredibly weird exchange.

The stars around his eyes glitter as he turns to look at you. They don’t look like stick-on gemstones or even glitter patches, but look as if they’re embedded in his skin. As if the stars are part of him.

“What brought you here to my humble forest?” he asks, and you blink a little at the strange phrasing of his sentence. 

“Oh. I was… trying to catch a squirrel. For my friend.” It sounds ridiculous, when you say it aloud, but it manages to make Joshua laugh, sweet and beautiful and melodic, and you can’t help but smile.

He tilts his head, amused, and now his eyes are sparkling too. “A squirrel? Well, I think you may have failed at that. Unfortunately.”

You shake your head. “This is all Seokmin’s fault. He knows I’m bad with directions, and yet he sent me off into the forest. Alone.”

Joshua’s hand tightens around yours, secure. “Don’t worry. You’re not alone anymore.” He nudges his shoulder against yours, and the sun is now peeking through the leaves, casting a dappled golden shine over his face. “I’m here now.”

That makes you duck your head, shyly, awed by his beauty.

It takes a few more minutes, but eventually, the trees thin and you can see a road ahead of you, a road that looks awfully like the one that Minghao had driven down hours ago to get you to the field.

“Ah, it seems that we’re here,” Joshua says, and he lets go of your hand. When you look back at him, confused, he smiles a little sadly. “This is as far as I can take you. It’s too polluted there for me, and I can’t leave my home.”

“Your home?” you repeat, but he’s stepping forward again, and then leans in to press the lightest kiss on your cheek. It makes heat rush into your face, blushing at the sudden action, but he’s already stepping away before you can react.

“Goodbye, Y/N, and I hope you manage to get home safely.” He grins, lips turning up at the corners a little mischievously. “Hopefully you manage to catch a squirrel someday.”

You blink, startled, because suddenly he’s leaving even though he’d been by your side for so long. “Wait,” you call out, “what are you?”

Joshua laughs, and he’s already begun to fade back into the trees, the stars sparkling around his eyes. “Wasn’t it obvious?” he says.

“I’m a nymph.”

And then he’s gone, melted back into the forest, and you’re standing there alone, straining to see where he went, wanting to know what he meant, wanting to know whether he really was a mystical nymph that you only read about in legends.

You stand there at the edge of the forest for a lot longer, and are about to walk back into the trees again when there’s the sound of a car driving down the road, and someone honks the car horn loudly, making you jump and turn around.

Mingyu has rolled down the window of the passenger seat, practically half falling out of the car.

“You!” he yells. “We’ve been looking for you for ages! Why weren’t you answering your phone?”

And instantly, the memories of before you’d found Joshua come flooding back, and you run towards the car, yelling at Mingyu.

“There’s no service in a forest, idiot!” You open the car door and get in, only to be tackled by Seokmin, who’s sitting in the back seat beside you.

He sobs dramatically, wrapping his arms tight around you. “Why did you disappear like that! We thought you were dead!”

“No, I wasn’t dead, why—hey.” You frown down at him from where he’s buried his head into your shoulder. “It was you. You sent me into the forest to get you a stupid squirrel!” 

Mingyu laughs at that, looking back at you as Minghao drives off again. “Yeah, Seokmin, you sent Y/N in there.”

Seokmin’s eyes go wide as you wrestle out of his arms to shake his shoulders. “I’m going to kill you! This is all your fault!”

“What—! Hey, we found you in the end, didn’t we? Minghao! Help!”

“Hey hey, no killing in my car,” Minghao interrupts sternly, and he sounds genuinely serious, so you settle down. Not before balling your fist and shaking it at Seokmin, though. This guy really is dead once you get out of the car.

Minghao looks at you in the rearview mirror, eyes glittering amusedly. “How did you even manage to get out? You have literally no sense of direction.”

You don't even register the teasing, eyes going distant as you recall stars around eyes and flowers weaved in hair. You smile, feeling your face warm up, leaning back against the headrest.

“I found a nymph.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @minhui896 ,, @bunnyiix ,, @slytherinshua ,, @haowrld ,, @belladaises ,, @moonlitskiiies ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @butiluvu ,, @wonranghaeee ,, @zozojella ,, @kawennote09 ,, @thedensworld ,, @a-wandering-stay ,, @abibliolife ,, @doublasting