#faery folklore

[fableandkey]

I can't believe I nearly forgot to post this guy! I drew up a rendition of Jack Frost for this Christmas, based upon late nineteen century interpretations. His first orgins stem from the Finnish National Epic!

[elmfae]

[vcreatures]

Gnomes are a small, ground dwelling, fairy found across most temperate forests, grasslands and in rare occasions mountain dwellings. They are one of the few fairies to be commonly found alongside human dwellings, having an affinity for their gardens. While most fairy beings can be seen as pests, the Gnome has managed to sway favor as they speak to a relatively good sign for agricultural communities. Having a Gnome is a good sign your crop is healthy and being tended too.

While most fairy species live relatively peacefully alongside one another, the Gnome is one of the few fairy species who do engage in warfare. This animosity is particularly found with Pixies.

Their “red cap” has become the moniker of the species. However this “cap” is not a piece of fashion, but a highly sensitive sensory organ used to help travel in their deep underground dens. They also act as a silent way to communicate with one another in dense brush or long grass. Only males of the species possess one. Female’s caps are small and dome-like, which they commonly adorn with flower crowns. The male’s cap doesn’t always remain active, they can actively render their cap flaccid, allowing them to burrow and squeeze into tight spaces. A male’s cap will grow throughout the course of his life, some reaching lengths double their body length. 

[mossypidder]

Bet you didn’t think you’d learn what human and 100% troll Fass looked like today, did you? Or what his parents looked like. Or what he looked like as a human kid. Nope, betchu didn’t.

But anyway. A bunch of miscellaneous troll/changeling information just because. Also trolls are born as beans like bears. Just so everyone knows. Female trolls are called sows and males are called bores. That’s all.

[inkyami]

Folklore knowledge tells me I should probably skedaddle and enjoy the river elsewhere

[ex0skeletal-undead]

Faerie Creature by Woodenpencilbox

This artist on Instagram // RedBubble

[upongoblinhill]

𝕳𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘

[moodboard-d]

[ghost-bxrd]

Do you have more fae!Dick headcanons, but from the batfam or his friends pov? 🥺

Check out this awesome post for a phenomenal addition to the Fae verse!

But in case you wanna stick with only Dick being fae, here’s some more headcanons for you, hehe ✨ I can never say no to doing more 👏

I don’t know enough about Dick’s friends to do a good pov for them, but here’s Bruce and Jason for now 💚

Bruce

Bruce knew something was other about Dick from the moment he started screaming when his parents fell and every single animal inside the circus went wild

Dick is a strange child. he never lies, but he’s got this uncanny ability to maneuver around the truth and make it bend to his will. It comes in handy during his Robin days, but Bruce will be the first to admit it creeps him out a bit. Even thinks that sound like a lie on surface level and up being truthful. To the letter.

Contracts. During their time as Batman and Robin, Bruce unknowingly enters into multiple little deals with Dick without being aware of it. Dick never takes advantage, but there’s one instance where Bruce finally realizes how important it is to leave absolutely no loopholes in orders or wordings when Dick nearly kills someone and it still falls into the terms of their agreement

The manor. Things have never been completely normal about the ancestral home, but with Dick around the walls seem to breathe. There’s always a light on behind some window even when it’s late and Alfred is long asleep. At night something scratches along the walls and the scent of rain and mushrooms lingers in the air. Neither Bruce or Alfred ever find its source. Hallways become long and winding when you’re half asleep. The walk to the restroom ends up being at least ten minutes.

Bruce yells at Dick and uses his full name for the first time and Dick just— folds. It’s not his true name, but he treats it as such. And Bruce is horrified at the way Dick’s entire form seems to warp and gain new joints and twist itself outside the human imagination. But then he blinks and it’s just Dick again, glaring balefully, hissing at Bruce not to use his name in anger. Ever. Bruce is too startled to do anything but promise he won’t.

Promises. Dick uses them sparingly, but when he does he upholds them with a vengeance. Bruce learns to never, ever make Dick promise something that will endanger him. Because dick would still follow through on it blindly.

Promises made by other people. Dick becomes vindictive if he thinks someone isn’t upholding their end of the bargain. The first time it happens, a simple thing about being home in time for dinner, Bruce got assaulted by rabid deer with curiously sharp teeth on his way to the car. In the middle of Gotham City. Bruce and Dick have a serious talk afterwards.

Jason

Dick is less than thrilled when Jason is declared Robin. Fae are possessive. That’s his name Bruce gave away. That’s his family Jason is infiltrating. Dick wants Jason gone. (Bruce barely manages to stop the murder of crows from shoving Jason off a roof)

Jason doesn’t realize there’s a pissed off fae out for blood. Bruce has a hard time rallying Dick, but he manages. Ergo; Jason thinks the manor is the best thing since sliced bread and he’s super excited about meeting Dick. He joins Alfred in making Dick’s favorite meal for his official visit and unknowingly ends up winning Dick over with it. An offering of favored food to fae creatures goes a long way in earning their favor. And Dick is no different. It helps that the food is genuinely delicious and Jason jumps at the chance to refill his plate. Jason unknowingly dodged a bullet there.

Dick becomes protective of Jason. Jason is his now in the same way Bruce and Alfred are. They’re human. He’s fae. They’re so very vulnerable and susceptible to injury and manipulation.

Jason avoids wandering the halls of Wayne manor alone for the longest time because he always feels there are eyes following him. (They are.)

The manor, reacting to Dick’s inherent magic, shortens each of Jason’s routes. It creeps Jason out even more

Sometimes there are feathers at the foot of Jason’s bed. He doesn’t know what kind of bird they could be from. When he shows them to Bruce the man just sighs

Jason has a temper tantrum and retreats into the woods behind the manor. He can’t find his way back until he calls out for Dick and suddenly the manor looms behind the next tree

[filurig]

a guy ive had in mind for a whileee its a crime i havent actually made an oc of my faeries yet so this guy!! this guy is actually the faerie that provides folke with funky fantasy hrt. more on them (and a bit about faeries) under the cut...

krillimir, or as they're known to many non-faeries, (spider's web) glasswing, is a rather newly adult faerie, having emerged about 3 years ago from their pupae. a bit of a free spirit in comparison to other faeries, they hail from the Hemarikkit Till colony to the south of vätterunda, perhaps the largest colony in the area with its main structures occupying a sunlit forest grove. due to the size and relatively stable nature of the colony, there was not a lot of pressure/demand on newly emerged faeries to take up a specific role, and krillimir preferred to keep their options open and thus chose to identify as a generalist.

generalist faeries can kind of take on less specific work than other faerie genders usually do, and especially work which involves collaboration with other species, and curious about the world outside of the colony, krillimir applied to be a participant in the colony's medical program - basically all faerie colonies have a medical program which involves a collaboration with the area's local tomtar, who will provide them with illusory magic to maintain their settlements and keep them hidden/protected. in return, the faeries offer their faerie dust, which can be finely tuned to affect an organism's hormone levels (as well as some other biochemicals) - this of course can be used to treat certain conditions, or as a way to alleviate pain, etc.

gullmar, who is folke's "tomte uncle" in a way, ended up visiting the Hemarikkit Till colony in search of a faerie that could help with folke's Trans Gender Blues (aka: provide him with hrt, after gullmar realised that folke was trans) and the freshly emerged krillimir would be assigned to him. due to the nature of the assignment, krillimir would just be permanently assigned to gullmar and comes by the granholm residence once every few months to readjust folke's hormone levels to the proper ones when the T levels start to fall off. while gullmar can find the faerie a bit neurotic and too energetic, their relationship grows to become amicable - a part of gullmar probably feels a fatherly instinct towards them hehe.

some extra faerie stuff i thought about making this guy so ill include:

faeries do not have a directly "spoken" language like we do, and communicate mostly through pheromones, body gestures and sounds like squeaking, trilling and hissing. they can communicate with other species through their pheromones, but as they communicate with said species in the target's language, things like names are often just directly translated. "krillimir" means "spider's web glass wing". how do we have the "romanization" of their name then? Well through some convoluted shenanigans. basically - tomtar have an anda-powered ability to learn the language of other species. with enough exposure and socialisation they will just naturally begin to gain an understanding of that language, and their ability has led them to be able to learn faerie language, especially helped by it also existing in a written form. while faeries don't speak this written language, it is how they conceptualise more complex ideas internally (the internal voice so to speak) - with the tomte ability, they can somewhat approximate what the language would sound like if spoken - at least filtered through the tomte brain. its most definitely not 100% accurate to what it would sound like though but most faeries accept it as close enough. this probably makes no sense but erm it sorta makes sense to me. LOL. but it means that most species that haven't learn to read faerie will only hear the literal translation when a faerie introduces themself, and thus many call krillimir by glasswing for short.

krillimir is a "generalist", which is one of many faerie genders. i made a post about it a while back! they go by they/them but generally doesn't mind he/she either.

faerie clothing is generally made of a fabric woven together by silk produced by them themselves - this silk is mainly produced by broodtenders or generalists. they also have a special way of "tanning" leaves, ending up with them having leather-like properties, which is part of what krillimir's outfit is made out of there! very popular reccuring symbols in their fabric design are "eye" "mimicry" and sometimes patterns which mimic some other animal/creature.

[snailygoon]

Spread 2: ✨What are Faerie?✨

TEXT: “Those of us who grew up in Ireland are no stranger to the tales of Faerie folk. The Otherworld of magic bustling right under the noses of oblivious humans, where nothing is certain and all things are possible. They are creatures made up of the raw and unbridled forces of nature, with temperaments, values, and customs incomprehensible to the likes of us humans. Faerie are just as elusive as they are unpredictable, more often than not being very well camouflaged and having the ability choose when and by whom they will be seen.

Many people who go their entire lives digging around in gardens and turning over rocks in search of them usually come back with nothing more than dirty boots and disappointment, which honestly might be best in some cases depending on the intentions of the individual. For although the rewards of the Faerie world are plentiful, the consequences of a Faerie offended are far greater.

But who am I to say anything about the people who don't take every necessary precaution when entering the domain of the Fae? I still find myself running into the forest with reckless abandon, and it was that very habit that led me directly into their path. Stupid, I know. But hey, one doesnt necessarily ever expect to be quite literally hoasted off the ground directly into the giant palm of a Faerie on her daily escape to her treehouse! Now you might argue I should’ve expected as much, considering Fae tend to be drawn in by large displays of emotion, and I was crying that time around.. To which I would counter argue that this wasnt the first time I’d ran crying into the woods, and although the idea of a possible Faerie encounter was always on the back of my mind, I still wasn’t mentally prepared. Luckily for me, that particular Fae would go on to became my closest friend, Aiden, who just so happens to be a part of the race of Fae I would come to most intimately Know.”

< (Previous spread) (Next spread) > <<(beginning)

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Guarding your name from the fae in folklore

The idea of fae stealing names is quite recent (I’m a big fan of new, modern folklore, x, y), but the idea that you have to guard your name so no one could (supernaturally) us it against you, is definitely a widespread folk belief. However, I’ve never encountered an actual folktale that says the fae or fairies in particular could have power over you if they knew your name. I’ve been looking for one for a long time (and if you know one please let me know!) but so far I’ve only come up with one example. So let's take a look:

The power of names

Like I said, the power of names is an old belief that shows up all over the world. Sometimes it’s linked with naming ceremonies like baptism. Sometimes hiding the name from others (witches, djinns, etc.) is what will protect you, sometimes the name itself will protect you (like being named after a saint or in reverence of a deity or spirit). Edward Clodd published a huge essay in 1898 investigating how widespread this name guarding practice is and how it links to folklore. Which, while obvioulsy dated, certainly gives an impression of how deep this belief goes (Tom Tit Tot; an essay on savage philosophy in folk-tale, Clodd, E., 1898).

Not all folk beliefs show up in folktales though and protagonists who refuse to tell their name are not a staple of European folklore, whether it concerns fae or other entities. In “The Soul Cages”, collected by T. Crofton Croker it’s even quite the opposite, as the protagonist and a firendly merrow deliberately call each other by their full names (Jack Dogherty and Coomara). And for ages I wasn't able to find a story that actually incorporated the belief of guarding your name against fae, until I read that huge essay.

Hiding your name from the fairies

In his book, Clodd mentions a single folktale in which it is mentioned that the fae are trying to learn someone’s real name. Sadly he does not tell it in full, but since it is the only real example of this concept I’ve able to find so far, I will give the full quote:

While these sheets are passing through the press, my friend Mr. W. B. Yeats hands me a letter from an Irish correspondent, who tells of a fairyhaunted old woman living in King's County. Her tormentors, whom she calls the "Fairy Band of Shinrone," come from Tipperary. They pelt her with invisible missiles, hurl abuse at her, and rail against her family, both the dead and the living, until she is driven well-nigh mad. And all this spite is manifested because they cannot find out her name, for if they could learn that, she would be in their power. Sometimes sarcasm or chaff is employed, and a nickname is given her to entrap her into telling her real name, — all which she freely talks about, often with fits of laughter. But the fairies trouble her most at night, coming in through the wall over her bed-head, which is no laughing matter; and then, being a good Protestant, she recites chapters and verses from the Bible to charm them away. And although she has been thus plagued for years, she still holds her own against the "band of Shinrone." (Clodd, 1889, p. 83-84).

This story fits the concept of keeping your name away from malicious fairies so you cannot truly fall under their power perfectly. Sadly I haven’t been able to find this story in Yeats’ own folklore collection, but it fulfills my criteria even so.

What I have been able to find many examples of, however, is the reverse trope. Namely that knowing a fairy’s name will give you power over them. I thought this only showed up in Rumplestiltskin-type stories, but it seems a little more widespread than that. Which is very exciting to me, and merits its own post. So stay tuned.

[dreamsoffaerie]

myth & folklore around the world [1/?]: faeries (celtic myth & folklore)

come fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!

[kitkinnie]

something about weird little girls and weird old women and raising kids and changelings

[whereserpentswalk]

There was an abandoned church where the faeries used to come out, tucked away in one of those neighborhoods in the city where only residents ever go. It was a beautiful stone building, covered in vines and ivy, half broken, resting between the corner stores and brownstones. They say it's so old that nobody even remembers the name of the god they worshipped there.

And there used to be faeries there. They would come out quite frequently. Nobody maintained the place, but it was ruined enough so you could just walk in through where the door used to be. And you could see them there, the kobolds who would sing their ancient songs in languages long forgotten. And the hollow backed women who would dance in the silver moonligh, and who turned men who tried to touch them into trees. There where spirits who'd look like dragonflies one momment, and than little winged people the next. And great dire trolls at times would come out and brew strange drinks from grass and root. There were mothmen who flew in the skies above the ancient church, looking down with big yellow eyes. There where witches who'd grant strange requests for strange prices, and who'd look like women from a far, and great mantises when near. And there were even darker things, faceless men, and black eyed girls, who'd come, but they never harmed a soul on those old church grounds.

They say it became a place where people who were grateful for such things would come. Urban sorcerers, and cryptid hunters, unmarketable artists, and outcasts and members of forgotten subcultures would come to. It was mostly just a place people in the city knew about, people who knew enough about the fae, people who had respect for the fae. A few faeries would let themselves show up in dim photographs, perhaps to appear on somebody's blog, but most people who would go there knew to ask first. And they say that. In her gratefulness to the ruins, for being a place where the children of Odin and the children of Gaia had found peace, the queen of the autumn faeries had gifted them a magic sword, that shined like sunset amber, planted forever in the ruins of the church's alter.

And once there was a magical sword there, something valuable there, the city decided it had to take notice. It wasn't just some worthless stone anymore, it was something with more money behind it now. They transfered the ruins' ownership from the underfunded historical society, to a successful real-estate company, who would know how to handle it well, and perhaps bring in some tourists.

And suddenly, things began to change. See, the sword needed to be well protected of course, so there were security cameras all over the place to keep out robbers, and guards of course to stand around and yell at people, and of course perhaps to fire iron bullets at any faeries who thought about hurting humans who wanted to be free to touch them and pet them and take pictures without consequences. And there were metal detectors of course, and there needed to be a closing time because suddenly there was a staff that had to be payed.

And somehow there were less and less faeries then, and the people who had used to come so often had gone away too. But that didn't matter, they still needed to turn a profit, and they had started advertising it, so soon tourists with their fancy cameras and expectations, and families with little children on leashes and dogs in their strollers, and fourteen year old boys who giggled because faerie could mean gay, all started to come, and waited on line to see the minority of faeries who were still there. And soon the walls of the old church had signs and ads and the walls were painted a green because the company thought grey was an ugly color, and the entrance had all those little marketable t-shirts and plushes for people to buy.

And soon there were no more faeries. They didn't want to come. The sword had turned black.

They say the last faeries to leave were the toughest of them, and that they didn't like the new type of guest, trolls would put human bones in their last stews, and witches would curse anyone who took pictures of them, and the black eyed girls and faceless men finally dragged people into faeland never to return. But even they left eventually, all of them did. They say the sword healed when it was bright and amber, but when it was black it's magic was no weaker, but it killed, anyone who touched the black sword would rot away. They say other magical creatures, meaner ones, found good homes in the church when it became so filled with the company's things, blood drinking vampires, and howling ghosts, and deal making devils, found the place to be a perfect hunting spot. The faeries never came back, and the church lost its profitability, they tried to rip it down, and use the land for some pretty shot or restaurant, but they could never clear the foundation, nobody could lift the sword.

[aut1sm-mess]

Aaah! Here it is!!

CARTOON SALOONS IRISH FOLKLORE TRILOGY!!!!

@irishthings