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punsbulletsandpointythings:

Who wants to play “Will I, A Classics Major, Be Able to Watch and Enjoy This Series, or Will I Send The Entire First Episode Shouting “THAT’S NOT HOW THAT- NO!” ?“

Alternate games include "How aghressively white will the cast be?”
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poseidqn:

Irish divinities; Morrigan (goddess of death), Manannan Mac Lir (god of the sea), Flidais (goddess of the spring) and Brighid  (goddess of fire, forgery and poetry) requested by Dannysir
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musicbuttonsandcake:

pinklikeme:

clementive:

Ok. I’m tired of the typical vampire, werewolf and fairy.I’m also tired of the occidental-centrism in mythology. Hence, this list. 

I tried to included as many cultural variants as I could find and think of. (Unfortunately, I was restricted by language. Some Russian creatures looked very interesting but I don’t speak Russian…) Please, add creatures from your culture when reblogging (if not already present). It took me a while to gather all those sites but I know it could be more expansive. I intend on periodically editing this list. 

Of note: I did not include specific legendary creatures (Merlin, Pegasus, etc), gods/goddesses/deities and heroes.

Dragons

The Chinese Dragon

The Japanese Dragon

The Korean Dragon

The Vietnamese Dragon

The Greek Dragon

The Indian Dragon

The Polish Dragon

The Austrian Dragon

The British Dragon

The Ancient Dragon (Egypt, Babylon and Sumer)

The Spanish Basque Dragon

Of the Cockatrice (creature with the body of a dragon)

Alphabetical List of Dragons Across Myths (Great way to start)

Little creatures (without wings)

The Legend of the Leprechauns, The Leprechaun

Chanaque /Alux (the equivalent of leprechauns in Aztec/Mayan folklore)

Elves

Elves in Mythology and Fantasy

Elves in Germanic Mythology

Kabeiroi or Cabeiri (Dwarf-like minor gods in Greek mythology)

Norse Dwarves

The Myth of Loki and the Dwarves

Ten Types of Goblins

Goblins

Tengu: Japanese Goblins

Gnomes 

More on Gnomes

Pooka: an Irish phantom

Creatures with wings (except dragons)

Fairies

All sorts of Cultural Fairies

Fairies in Old French Mythology 

Bendith Y Mamau (Welsh fairies)

Welsh Fairies

Peri (Persian fairies)

Yü Nü (Chinese fairies)

The Celtic Pixie

Angels in Judaism

Angels in Christianity

Hierarchy of Angels

Angels in Islam

Irish Sylph

Garuda (Bird-like creature in Hindu and Buddhist myths)

Bean Nighe (a Scottish fairy; the equivalent of a banshee in Celtic mythology)

Harpies

Spirited Creatures

Druids

Jinn (Genies in Arabic folklore)

Types of Djinns

Aisha Qandisha and Djinn in Moroccan Folklore

Oni (demons in Japanese folklore)

Nymphs

Spirits in Asturian Mythology

Valkyries

Lesovik

Boggarts: The British Poltergeist

Phantom black dogs (the Grim)

Demons in Babylonian and Assyrian Mythology (list)

Demons in the Americas (list)

European Demons (list)

Middle-East and Asia Demons (list)

Judeo-Christian Demons (list)

Nephilim, more on Nephilim

Mahaha (a demon in Inuit mythology)

Flying Head (a demon in Iroquois mythology)

Ghosts

Toyol (a dead baby ghost in Malay folklore)

Malay Ghosts

Yuki-onna (a ghost in Japanese folklore)

The Pontianak (a ghost in Malay mythology)

Funayurei (a ghost in Japanese folklore)

Zagaz (ghosts in Moroccan folklore)

Japanese Ghosts

Mexican Ghosts

Horse-like mythical creatures

Chinese Unicorns

Unicorns

The Kelpie (Could have also fitted in the sea creatures category)

The Centaur

The Female Centaur

Hippocamps (sea horses in Greek mythology)

Horse-like creatures (a list)

Karkadann, more on the Karkadann (a persian unicorn)

Ceffyl Dwfr (fairy-like water horse creatures in Cymric mythology)

Undead creatures

The Melanesian Vampire 

The Ewe Myth : Vampires

The Germanic Alp

The Indonesian Vampire

Asanbosam and Sasabonsam (Vampires from West Africa)

The Aswang: The Filipino Vampire

Folklore Vampires Versus Literary Vampires

Callicantzaros: The Greek Vampire

Vampires in Malaysia

Loogaroo/Socouyant: The Haitian Vampire

Incubi and Sucubi Across Cultures

Varacolaci: The Romanian Vampire

Brahmaparusha: The Indian Vampire

Genesis of the Word “Vampire”

The Ghoul in Middle East Mythology

Slavic Vampires

Vampires A-Z

The Medical Truth Behind the Vampire Myths

Zombies in Haitian Culture

Shape-shifters and half-human creatures (except mermaids) 

Satyrs (half-man, half-goat)

Sirens in Greek Mythology (half-woman and half-bird creatures)

The Original Werewolf in Greek Mythology

Werewolves Across Cultures

Werewolf Syndrome: A Medical Explanation to the Myth

Nagas Across Cultures

The Kumiho (half fox and half woman creatures)

The Sphinx

Criosphinx

Scorpion Men (warriors from Babylonian mythology)

Pooka: an Irish changelings

Domovoi (a shape-shifter in Russian folklore)

Aatxe (Basque mythology; red bull that can shift in a human)

Yech (Native American folklore)

Ijiraat (shapeshifters in Inuit mythology)

Sea creatures

Selkies (Norse mermaids)

Mermaids in many cultures

More about mermaids

Mermen

The Kraken (a sea monster)

Nuckelavee (a Scottish elf who mainly lives in the sea)

Lamiak (sea nymphs in Basque mythology)

Bunyip (sea monster in Aboriginal mythology)

Apkallu/abgal (Sumerian mermen)

An assemblage of myths and legends on water and water creatures

Slavic Water Creatures

The Encantado (water spirits in Ancient Amazon River mythology)

Zin (water spirit in Nigerian folklore)

Qallupilluk (sea creatures in Inuit mythology)

Monsters That Don’t Fit in Any Other Category

Aigamuxa, more details on Aigamuxa

Amphisabaena

Abere

Bonnacon

Myrmidons (ant warriors)

Troll, More on Trolls

Golems 

Golems in Judaism

Giants: The Mystery and the Myth (50 min long documentary)

Inupasugjuk (giants in Inuit mythology)

Fomorians (an Irish divine race of giants)

The Minotaur

The Manticore, The Manticore and The Leucrouta

The Ogre

The Orthus (two-headed serpent-tailed dog)

The Windigo

The Windigo Psychosis

Rakshasa (humanoids in Hindu and Buddhist mythology)

Yakshas (warriors in Hindu mythology)

Taqriaqsuit (“Shadow people” in Inuit mythology)

Stick Indians

References on Folklore and Mythology Across the Globe

Creatures of Irish Folklore 

Folklore and Fairytales

An Overview of Persian Folklore

Filipino Folklore

Myths, Creatures and Folklore

Alaska Folklore

Spanish (Spain) Mythology

Mythical Archive

Mythology Dictionary

List of Medieval and Ancient Monsters

Native American Animals of Myth and Legends

Native American Myths

Bestiary of Ancient Greek Mythology

Mythology, Legend, Folklore and Ghosts

Angels and Demons

List of Sea Creatures

Yoruba Mythology

Ghosts Around the World, Ghosts From A to Z

Strange (Fantastic) Animals of Ancient Egypt

Egyptian Mythology

Creatures from West Africa

On the Legendary Creatures of Africa

Myths, Creatures and Folklore

References on writing a myth or mythical creatures

Writing a MYTHology in your novel?

How to Write a Myth

10 Steps to Creating Realistic Fantasy Creatures

Creating Fantasy Creatures or Alien Species

Legendary Creature Generator

Book Recommendations With Underrated Mythical Creatures

(I have stumbled upon web sites that believed some of these mythical creatures exist today… Especially dragons, in fact. I just had to share the love and scepticism.)

good

If Newt had tumblr (Of interest to @elenothar?)
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“I am a mermaid, a swamp witch, a creature born to the in between. A lover of where water meets land.”
- Unknown (via lighteclipse8)
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theabhorsen:

Fairy Tale Meme:

6 Creatures- [Selkie]

The fisherman could not stop staring. You see, he had fallen in love at first sight, and because he was a young man, and terribly headstrong, he thought he must keep her with him. He clutched the sealskin to his chest, pressing it to his pounding heart. 

“Dear lady,” he said gently, “be my wife, for I have fallen madly in love with you, and without your sealskin, you’ll have to live on land. I’ll make you happy, that I promise.”

“Please sir,” she cried, “my folk will be so worried. I must go home. Never could I be happy on land.”

…honestly, she looks as though she’s about to rip out someone’s throat with her teeth.
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galeriadeilusiones:

Selkie

Selkies are seals that can transform into humans to come onto land. They do this by removing their skins which they leave behind rocks. There are many stories from the Shetland Islands of Scotland of the Selkie and the king of Selkies the Great Selkie of Sule Skerry.

Female Selkies can shed their skin to become a beautiful woman enabling them to walk on land and blend in with society. If a man finds the skin of a female Selkie he has the power to own the Selkie as his wife. The Selkie will usually be a good wife with some sadness in her heart, a longing to return to the sea. If the female Selkie is able to recover her seal skin she will immediately head for the sea, transform into a seal and return to her original home.

Male Selkies are also known to be able to control the weather and create storms across the ocean. They do this with the intent to destroy hunting ships in revenge of their fellow seal friends that are hunted and killed.

 
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watchdogz:

hey take this quiz about which greek god/goddess you relate to most!
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elodieunderglass:

Truth Staying In Her Barrel Saying Fuck You All
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thewinedarksea:

mythology moodboards | sekhmet

egyptian goddess of fire, war, fertility, and healing

requested by anon

@lectorel
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ash-castle:

‘The old gods are dead’ they tell you.
You smile and nod and wipe out another glass. Your eyes dart to the old man in the corner booth. You never see him come, but you always see him leave. Each night a new young lover on his arm.
You pretend not to see his wife watching with jealousy blazing in her eyes and peacock feathers printed on her dress. Her sharpened nails tap, tap, tapping a beat you can hear over the din.
‘If they were still around, where are they?’ They continue with a wild wave of their arm. The man next to them looks up and grins and raises his glass at you in a toast and buys them another round. It’s only after he’s turned away you realize his teeth were too sharp and that the glint in his eye was something more than delight.
On the stage a young man sings. He’s there every night with his golden guitar and his golden skin and his golden hair. He sings of love and loss and boys who fly too high, only to fall. You know the song, he plays it almost every night.
His sister stands in the corner, watching, on edge. You keep half an eye on her. She seems constantly in motion yet when you focus, she is still. Last week she broke a man’s arm. You never saw her move.
‘The old gods are dead.’ They say with finality.
You look around the room and meet old and tired eyes in hungry faces.
'Maybe,’ you begin and pause as the room seems to go quiet, holding its breath. 'Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.’-gods never die
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mazikeene:

t h e  m o i r a i  were the goddesses of fate who personified the inescapable destiny of man and assigned to every person his or her fate or share in the scheme of things. at the birth of a man, the moirai spinned out the thread of his life, followed his steps, and directed the consequences of his actions according to the counsel of the gods. they were independent, at the helm of necessity, directed fate, and watched that the fate assigned to every being by eternal laws might take its course without obstruction. 
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“Your tapestries are so fine,” the merchant says in wonder, “that you must be blessed by the goddess Athena.”

Arachne tosses her head, braided hair falling over her shoulder like an obsidian waterfall, “What’s Athena got to do with it? My hands wove these, not hers.”

The merchant blanches and looks to the sky, as if expecting Zeus himself to smite them for blasphemy. Personally, she thinks the king of the gods has better thing to do with his time. “Ah,” he says weakly, “I suppose.”

He pays her for her wares and she leaves, almost immediately bumping into a hunched old woman with grey eyes. “Do you not owe Athena thanks for your talent?” she croaks, gnarled hands curled over a cane.

Arachne is not stupid, but she is foolish. They will tell tales of it. She looks into those grey eyes and declares, “Athena should thank me, since my talents earn her so much praise.”

She pushes past her and keeps walking, ignoring the goddess in humans skin as she disappears into the crowd.

They will tell tales of her hubris. They will all be true.

~

The next day she bumps into the same old woman at the market. Everything goes downhill from there.

“Know your place, mortal,” Athena says, grey eyes narrowed. There is a crowd around them, and Arachne could save herself, could walk away unscathed, and all she has to do is say her weaving is inferior to that of a goddess.

She will not lie.

“I do,” she says coolly, “and in this matter, it is above you.”

She is not honest as a virtue, but as a vice.

Athena challengers her to a weaving contest. She accepts.

~

Gods are not so hard to find, if you know where to look.

“It’s a volcano,” the baker repeats, looking down at her coins, as if he feels guilty for taking money from someone who’s clearly not all there.

She grabs her bag of sweet breads and adds it to her pack before swinging it over her shoulders, “Yes, I know. Half a day’s walk, you said?”

“A volcano,” he insists, as if she did not hear him perfectly well the first dozen times.

“Thank you for your help,” she says. He’s shaking his head at her, but she knows what she’s doing.

She walks. She grows hungry, but does not touch the bread she paid for, and walks some more. The sun’s begun to set by the time she makes it to the base of the volcano. It’s tall, impossibly large, and for a moment the promise of defeat threatens to overwhelm her.

But Arachne does not believe in defeat, in loss. They will tell tales of her hubris. Those tales will be true.

She ties a scarf around her braids then hikes her skirt up and ties the material so it falls only to her thighs. She fits work roughened hands into the divots of cooled magma and begins her slow ascent.

~

The muscles in her legs and arms shake, and her hunger pains are almost as distracting. Her once white dress is dirt smeared and torn and sweat makes her itch as it covers her body and drips down her back.

“What are you doing?”

Arachne turns her head and bites back a scream, looking into one giant eye. The cyclops holds easily to the volcano’s edges, even though her hands are torn and bleeding. She swallows and says, “I heard you like honeyed bread. Is it true?”

The creature tilts his head to the side, baring his long fanged teeth at her. She thinks he might be smiling. “You’ve been climbing for hours. What do you want?”

“Is it true?” she repeats, refusing to flinch.

“Yes,” he says, looking at her the same way the baker had, “it’s true.”

“There’s some sweet bread in my pack, baked this morning,” she says, “it should still be soft.”

His hands are big enough and strong enough that it could probably squeeze her head like a grape. Instead he gently undoes her pack and reaches inside. The honey buns look comically small in his large hands, and he swallows half of them in one bite. He licks his fingers clean when he’s done, and his smile is just as terrifying the second time around. “I am Brontes. Why are you climbing my master’s volcano?”

“I’m the weaver Arachne,” she takes a deep breath, “I need your master’s help.”

~

They tell tales of Hephaestus’s ugliness.

They are not true.

He’s got a broad, angular face and short brown hair. His eyes are like amber set into his face, and his arms are huge, and he’s rippling muscle from the waist up. He has legs only to his knees. From there down his legs are bronze gears and golden wire, replacements for the legs destroyed when Hera threw him from Mount Olympus.

“Had your look, girl?” he asks, voice rough like he’s always a moment away from breaking into a coughing fit.

“Yes,” she says, and doesn’t turn away, keeps looking.

His lips quirk up at the corners, so it was the right move. The heat is even more oppressive inside the volcano, and all around him cyclopses work, forging oddly shaped metal that she can’t hope to understand. “You’ve gone to awful lot of trouble to find me, girl. What do you want?”

She slides her pack off her shoulders and holds it out to the god, “I have a gift for your wife. I have woven her a cloak.”

He raises an eyebrow and doesn’t reach for the bag, “You believe something made with mortal hands could be worthy of the goddess of beauty?”

They will tell tales of her hubris.

“Yes.”

They will all be true.

With a gust of wind the oppressive heat of the volcano is swept away, leaving her chilled. In its place stands a woman – more than a woman. Aphrodite has skin like the copper of her husband’s machines and hair dark and thick and long. Her eyes are deepest, richest brown, piercing in their intelligence. People don’t tell tales of Aphrodite’s cleverness. That is because people are stupid.

“Let’s see it then,” she says, reaching inside the pack and pulling the cloak from its depths.

It unrolls beautifully. It’s made from the finest silks, and it shimmers in the light from the forges. The hem of the cloak is sea foam, speaking of Aphrodite’s beginning, and up along the clock is intricate patterns it tells of her life, of her marriage and her worshippers and escapades, all with the detail of the most experienced artist and the reverence of her most devoted followers.

Her lips part in surprise and she slides it on, twirling like a child. “Gorgeous,” Hephaestus says, though Arachne knows he does not speak of the cloak. She doesn’t take offense.

The goddess smiles and Arachne’s heart pounds in her chest. She does her best to ignore it – Aphrodite is the goddess of love, after all. It is only expected. “Very well,” the goddess says, “you have my attention.”

Arachne swallows. Aphrodite’s attention is a heavy thing. “I have offended Athena,” she says, “She has challenged me to a weaving contest.”

Their faces somber. Hephaestus rubs the edge of a sleeve between his fingers and says, “Athena will lose such a contest, if judged fairly. She does not take loss well.”

“I know,” she says, “you are friendly with Hades, are you not?”

There are no tales of their friendship. But she’s staking her life on its existence, because why wouldn’t it exist – both of them even tempered, both shunned by Olympus, both happily married.

Gods hate being made to feel lesser. It is why they say Persephone was kidnapped, why they say Aphrodite cheats with Ares. It is why Athena will crush her when Arachne wins the weaving contest.

“Clever girl,” Hephaestus says, smiling.

Aphrodite stares at her reflection in a convenient piece of polished silver. Arachne assumes Hephaestus left if lying there for that express purpose. “Very well!” the goddess says, not looking at her, “when Athena sends you to the underworld, we will entrench upon our uncle for your release.” She turns on her heel and points a finger at her. Arachne blushes for no reason she can think of. “In return, you will weave me a gown, one equal to my own beauty.”

A gown as exquisite as the goddess of beauty. An impossible task.

They will tell tales of her hubris.

“I accept.”

They will all be true.

~

The contest goes as expected. Athena’s tapestry is lovely, but Arachne’s is lovelier.

The goddess’s face goes red in rage, and her grey eyes narrow. Arachne stands tall, ready to accept the death blow coming for her.

The blow comes.

Death does not.

~

She is an insect. Even if she can make it back to Hephaestus’s volcano, even if they can help her, they will not know it is her. She has no hope left, no course of action, she should just give up. But –

She doesn’t believe in defeat, in loss.

It was a terribly long journey on foot, that first time. It is even longer this time, although now she has eight legs instead of two. She makes it to the volcano, and creeps in between crevices, until she finds out a hollowed room, one with a sliver of sunlight and plenty of bugs to keep her fed.

Athena’s cruel joke of allowing her to weave will be her downfall. Her silk comes out a golden yellow color – it will look exquisite against Aphrodite’s copper skin.

~

It takes seven years for her to complete it. She hasn’t left this room in the volcano in all that time, and as soon as it’s done she scurries out back toward the village. She’s a large insect, but not that large.

She arrives just as the sun begins to rise, and leaves before the first rays have even touched the earth, her prize tied to her back with her own silk.

Arachne doesn’t return to her room. Instead she goes to the more popular parts of the volcano, hurries and runs around terrifying stomping feet until she finds who she’s looking for and scurries up his leg and onto his shoulder.

“Huh,” Brontes looks onto his shoulder and blinks. “What on earth are you?”

She cautiously skitters down his arm, waiting. He bends closer and lightly touches her back. “Is – is that a piece of a honey bun?”

She looks up at him, waiting. It’s her only chance, if he doesn’t remember, if he doesn’t understand –

His face slowly fills with a cautious kind of wonder. “Arachne?”  She jumps in place, being unable to nod, and Brontes cautiously cradles her in his massive hands, “We must find the Mater immediately!”

She jumps down, landing in front of him and running forward. “Wait!” he calls, and she makes sure he’s running after her before skittering back to her corner of the cave. It’s almost too small for him to enter but he squeezes inside and breathes, “Oh.” He stares for several moments, and Arachne climbs her web and waits. Brontes shakes himself out of his reverie and uses his powerful wings to bellow, “MISTRESS APHRODITE!”

There’s that same breeze and she’s in the crevice with them, “What was so important, Brontes, that you had to yell?”

Arachne sees the exact moment that the goddess sees the gown, golden yellow and glimmering, made entirely of spider silk. “Beautiful,” she says, reaching out a hand to brush down the bodice. Her head then snaps up, “Brontes, where’s Arachne?”

She warms at that, that Aphrodite knew it was her weaving even though she hasn’t been seen in seven years.

They’ve told tales of her hubris.

They are all true.

Brontes points at the web, and Aphrodite steps over and holds out her hands. Arachne crawls onto the goddess’s palms. “Athena is more powerful than I am, I cannot undo her work,” she says, “but I know someone who can.”

Then they are in front of a river. A handsome young man stands there waiting with a boat. “Goddess Aphrodite,” he says, “we weren’t expecting you.”

“Thanatos,” she returns, “I need to see Persephone.”

The man’s face stays cool, and for a moment Arachne fears they will be refused and she will be stuck in this form forever. Then he smiles and says, “My lady is of course available for her favored niece.” He holds out a hand to help her onto the boat, “Please come with me.”

~

Arachne weaves a dress for Hades’s wife as a thank you, and returns to her volcano.

“I can take you somewhere else,” Aphrodite says, “you don’t have to hide here.”

Arachne pauses at her loom. She has lived in this volcano for seven years. It’s her home. “Would you like me to leave?” she asks instead.

Aphrodite scoffs, “Of course not! How could I dress myself without you here?” She’s wearing the spider silk dress Arachne spun for her, and she’s working on another for the goddess now. Aphrodite runs a gentle finger down Arachne’s cheek and for a moment she forgets to breathe. “You are the finest weaver to ever exist.”

She looks up at the goddess, “Then as the god of crafts and goddess of beautiful things, where else would I belong besides with you and Hephaestus?”

To declare your company equal to that of gods is the height of arrogance and blasphemy.

They tell tales of her hubris.

“An excellent point,” Aphrodite murmurs, and tucks a stray braid behind Arachne’s ear.

They are all true.

gods and monsters series part iii
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goreisforgirls:

aesthetic meme - deities - rán

rán is the norse goddess of storms and the drowned dead. she is wife to ægir, god of the ocean and king of the sea creatures, and has a net with which she tries to capture men who venture out to sea. she is also associated with the practice of bringing gold on ocean voyages, so that if sailors were to die at sea, rán would be pleased by their gift and spare them.

@darthrevaan

I am irresistibly reminded of sea-goddess!Padme.
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deadcatwithaflamethrower:

hermdoggydog:

writing-prompt-s:

You’re an ancient Greek man coming home from 4 months of war to find your wife 3 months pregnant. Now you’ve embarked on a solemn quest: to punch Zeus in the face.

Soon after you begin your quest, you encounter another man in a similar situation. You decide to join forces, as two mortal men stand a better chance at punching Zeus than one.
Two villages over, you encounter a woman who had relations with Zeus and was left with a highly aggressive half-boar half-man offspring. She too feels your anger and offers to join your quest.
By the time you reach Mount Olympus, you’ve amassed a large and formidable army of cuckolded/ravished mortals, demigods with daddy issues, mythical creatures with scores to settle, and a seamstress who you’re pretty sure is Hera in disguise.
Zeus never stood a chance.

I wanna read this book.
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the-anchorless-moon:

cunningfoxwitch:

northern-seidmadr:

doodbog:

Norse goddesses!

OMMMMGGGGGG

Ok, seriously, this is like my new favorite Norse Goddess artwork.

@fialleril

@robininthelabyrinth
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deadcatwithaflamethrower:

thebibliosphere:

quinfirefrorefiddle:

kaylapocalypse:

lesmiserabelles:

i want a modern-accent-accurate version of the arthurian myth. guinevere with a welsh accent, arthur with a midlands or northern accent, lancelot’s french, all the orkneys are scottish…

how much better would mordred be as a character with a scottish accent?

“a asked ma maw if arthur was ma da or ma uncle an she went tae me ‘yes’. a canny deal wi this am gonnae blow the whole kingdom up tae fuck”

I’m crying. I’m going to screenshot this and send it to my professor

@thebibliosphere Have you seen this?

I have and I love it. It reminds me of Scottish twitter and that one tweet about wrapping yourself in aluminum foil like a baked potato and crawling in the microwave and blowing yourself up. Which honestly just spoke to me on such a profound level that all I could say was “same”.

I want the thing. I am laughing in a hospital waiting room and I WANT THE THING!
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breakanyballerinasheart:

Star Wars + Greek Mythology

…why do I have the sudden urge to write in the Greek Gods AU again?
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poemsforpersephone:

what if
when icarus fell
apollo caught him
before he hit the sea,
arms as warm as the sun,
but safer.

what if
when ariadne cast the rope
across a broken branch
aphrodite stepped in
with a reminder that this,
this is not the kind of love
you die for.

what if
when achilles
was ready for war
ares appeared with a smile
and said “you win well when you win,
but what are you unwilling
to lose if you lose?”
and achilles knew the answer.

if you could
retell the tale wouldn’t you want
to tell it kinder? wouldn’t you
want to give them peace, even love,
where you could?

l.s. | I AM TRIED OF RE-WRITING TRAGEDY WITHOUT CHANGE. LET THEM LIVE. LET THEM LEARN. LET THEM LOVE © 2016
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