#fairy tale edit

[wormwoodandhoney]

genre swap: snow white as a gothic horror, requested by anon

the snow is cold, the blood is warm, and snow lives in the crypt with seven ghosts.

[agrestal-tales]

[alicenpai]

the girl from the other side ✨ this series gave me hope a million times but simultaneously shattered my heart into the same amount of pieces </3 (flower symbolism under cut)

sticker sheet for anime north 🍀🥧🖤🤍

SPOILERS AHEAD

forget me not - obvious reference to the Black Children and how they eventually forget who they are as they near the end of their "life cycle".

white clover (in coffin) - white clovers typically symbolize innocence.

4 leaf clover - like I wrote in a previous post on my Witch Hat Atelier seasons piece, the 4 leaf clover symbolizes luck and good fortune. Like Coco, Shiva to her loved ones is a symbol of fortune, though to the Inside Kingdom, a symbol of misfortune.

sunflower - typically symbolize strength and warmth, a fitting flower for Shiva, the light illuminating Teacher's dark past.

nasturtium - another flower symbolizing strength, and has strong ties to the "victory" after battle. apparently soldiers used to don them as a sign of a long battle won. fun fact they are also edible (don't take my post for nutritional advice please) (ill probably write a bit more on this topic when my head is more clear)

[heavenlayt]

I made text dividers from some paintings I liked. I think it's good?

Like and reblog if you're going to use it!

[animebw]

Everyone say thank you to Madhouse and JC Staff for keeping shoujo/josei anime alive in the modern anime era.

[assassin1513]

⚜️The dreaming Fairy Castles ⚜️

[neteyamlover69]

atwow characters social media v

series masterlist

once again shout out to @eywas-heir

IM CRUNIANSKSNSKAJ

anyways, double post today, woooo!

thanks for the love and support on this series omg 😭

rotxo and ao’nung are dumb and dumber! (it’s canon bcs i said so)

my requests are open!

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[edensania]

Someone is FURIOUS here.

[fantasydreaamer]

♡ Challe & Anne ♡

Cherish (verb): to treasure dearly.

[yasmeensh]

Zelda 2 comic sneak peek

I took out my old full-length Zelda 2 comic draft and chose a segment to make a short comic out of. It's missing context from the whole grand narrative of the entire story, but I think it gets the point across.

There were a couple potentials, and I ended up choosing the scene where Link discovers that his blood is the key to awakening Ganon. It's the most well-known plot point of the game in the LOZ fandom in general, besides the Prince of Hyrule plot. Throughout the comic, Link gets attacked by various monsters during his quest. He thought Hyrule was incredibly dangerous for merchants and travelers, but found out that it was only him encountering monsters at a high rate, thus targeted (that is not discussed in this short comic). This disturbs him a lot. And this is the scene when he discovers why he's a target. It's more than the monsters seeking revenge.

At some point in the game, the player is made to travel towards south-western Hyrule and use the Hammer on dueling peaks to enter and get a magic potion. You specifically enter the peak that is originally Level 9 in Zelda 1. I found that to be very... interesting. And suspicious. Why did the developers think "Okay lets have Link go back to the traumatizing final boss place from the first game to retrieve an item :D" It's kinda epic honestly and it gave me the idea: For the full comic, I made it that Link follows rumors and travels down there in the hopes of finding the magic book containing the revive spell, which is game-changing for the rest of his journey. Being the adventurer that he is, Link takes the risk and goes there thinking the place is long-abandoned and that Ganon probably no longer exists. Except, that isn't the case. (Okay I must add, after the revelation, Link loses his adventurous spirit and gets very serious with his quest. No longer enjoys exploring, which is all this Link is about. He starts developing Big Fears. This eventually spawns Dark Link. I wish I could make the entire comic but I know I can't T-T I should probably finish up and polish the draft and post it online for whoever is interested in a deep dive, lore-intense Zelda 2 story reimagining.)

It's the first time I do a 10 page comic, so I'm going through a learning curve right now xD It's going to be experimental, but I hope you enjoy it still. Here are some WIP shots. Still a while before it's completed.

[czgif]

Robert Urban, Jan Komínek and Anna Dvořáková in Eliska and Damian (Eliška a Damián) S01E02 2023, TV, dir. Lukáš Buchar IMDB

[wormwoodandhoney]

genre swap: the 12 dancing princesses as a mystery, requested by anon

set in the 1930s, a noir style mystery about a detective to solve the disappearance of 4 dancers who have seemingly robbed & skipped town on their angry employer. the detective realizes patterns in the case similar to previous disappearances in the 20s & 10s. the detective follows the clues, becomes obsessed with these women and their pasts. determined to find them and save them from their wicked ways, he's in for an unpleasant surprise when he uncovers their lair in a literal underworld with the previous disappeared women. these women have found a way to dance forever without the judgment of men, and all they need to add more friends is a simple sacrifice every ten years. and what do you know, the detective is right on time.

[fuedalreesespieces]

i give up lmao

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Length of Years: A Rapunzel Retelling

The woman in the tower brushed her hair. It had long ago turned white, and had grown to cover most of the floor in her little stone room. She braided it with lightning speed, her gnarled fingers confidently completing the familiar task.

Her gaze wandered through the chamber filled with the works of a lifetime. Tapestries she'd woven. Books she'd read and written. Dresses she'd designed. Plants she'd carefully tended until flowering vines framed her one window to the outside world. Evidence of arts she'd mastered, skills she'd developed--once sources of pride and joy, and now simply the remains of an empty life.

Now that her mother was dead, what did she have to live for? She'd sacrificed her life out of loyalty to the woman who'd given her everything; she'd never dreamed that someday she'd be the one left alone. This tower room had been her world; now that world seemed pathetically small. A dismal showing for so many decades.

She sang to banish the thoughts--song was her only weapon in her war against the hostile silence. The song was a light ditty from her younger years, about a bird in a cage, flying free. She'd sang that song often, once upon a time, to an awestruck audience. The only visitor this tower had ever held.

Unbidden, he appeared before her mind's eye. Young. Strong. Dark-haired. Square-jawed. With scarred hands and a dimpled chin and laughing eyes. He'd come to see her, day after day, and filled her world with a joy she'd never before known.

He'd asked her to leave with him; she'd refused, for Mother's sake, again and again, until he'd spoken so abusively against Mother that she grew offended for her sake, and told him to leave and never return. He'd obeyed her wishes, as he always had, and now she had nothing left of him but memory and regret.

She sang all the stronger as the memory turned to sorrow. She'd had her chance and thrown it away. Time had devoured any hope she'd ever had. What was the use of wishing otherwise? She was, and would be, now and forever, alone.

Even the song couldn't change that, so she stopped singing.

And in the silence, she heard a voice.

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel!"

An illusion. A hallucination. A phantom voice conjured by an abundance of memory and solitude and a lack of anything else.

The voice persisted. "Let down your hair!"

The voice was weaker than the one she remembered. Graveled. Worn. Aged.

But beneath it all, a familiar tone that brought her mind back to a time when she was fair-skinned, golden-haired, slender, willowy and oh-so-young.

She raced to the window with a speed she hadn't been capable of in years. Her joints creaked as she leaned far out the window, clinging tightly to the ledge to maintain her delicate balance as she looked down.

At a man in well-worn travel clothes marked with the royal coat of arms.

"I heard your singing," he said.

His hair was shorter than she remembered, gray and frazzled but still remarkably thick. His square jaw had grown jowls, his face had grown lines, his eyes had grown dimmer. But his smile as he gazed upon her was as bright as the one she saw in her memories each night.

With a bow that was slower but no less elegant for the passing of years, he asked, "My lady, might I ascend?"

With a joy she hadn't known she could ever possess, Rapunzel gathered up her endless white lengths of braid and let down her hair.

**

The climb took longer than Rapunzel remembered, but at last her visitor reached the window, and Philip Peregrine Bertram, prince of Whitbay, entered her chambers once more.

He bent double as he caught his breath. "Has your window always been that high?"

"It hasn't moved," Rapunzel said.

And neither have I.

Philip heard the unsaid and more valuable words. His gaze, when he stood straight and looked at her, held the compassion she'd always admired. "I heard of your mother's passing."

"It was very sudden." Mother had collapsed in the middle of a conversation, just after a climb up the tower in the rain. Rapunzel had buried her body beneath the stones of the tower's lowest level.

"My sympathies," Philip said.

He was the first to offer them, in all these weeks. Despite the hatred Rapunzel knew he had for her mother, she knew his words were genuine.

That, more than anything, brought the tears to her eyes. "Thank you."

Philip offered a handkerchief, which she took without shame. "Do you have food? Supplies?" he asked.

Rapunzel nodded, glad for the switch to more practical matters. "There are garden boxes here in the tower, and a boy comes every week with supplies."

"And you've stayed?"

She shrugged. "I had nowhere else to go."

No one else to go to.

He heard these unspoken words, too, and his face, as he sighed, seemed to age another ten years. "Rapunzel," he breathed. "I am so very sorry."

His voice held such depth of regret that she knew he apologized for far more than her mother's passing.

Despite herself, Rapunzel's words of response sounded far younger than the girl he had known. Like a child's--small, delicate, broken, plaintive. "Why did you never come back?"

"You asked me not to," Philip said. "And I had my pride. I might have returned, when my temper cooled, but then there were the wars, the diplomatic missions, the voyages, the marriage treaty, the children..." He sat wearily on her window ledge. "By the time life slowed down, I assumed you'd long ago moved on, and it would have been disloyal to seek you out. I only came to the village by chance and heard the locals speaking of the woman in the tower. Then I came to the woods and heard your song..."

He trailed off as he gestured to the room around them.

"I see," Rapunzel said, though she could barely even imagine it. An entire life full of war and travel and conflict and change happening quickly enough to obscure the passage of time, while she'd stayed here in the same set of rooms as the long, slow seconds marched lazily by.

"Did no one else ever come to the tower?" Philip asked, sounding almost desperate to hear some hint of joy from her life.

"No one," Rapunzel said simply. "Mother made certain of that."

Philip's jaw clenched, and there was a spark of the old fire in his eye, but he did not speak ill of the dead.

"I never mentioned you to her," Rapunzel said, "but she must have been suspicious--I wept so often in the weeks after our argument. She set barriers and traps in the woods after that. Spread rumors that I was mad and violent. The only outsiders who ever came were the boys who delivered supplies, and Mother always hired slow-witted lads who didn't ask questions."

"And..." Philip swallowed back some emotion. "And she was your only company?"

"She was never unkind to me," Rapunzel said, for she hadn't been, whatever her other crimes. "She made certain I never lacked anything I wanted."

"Except for freedom."

Rapunzel shook her head softly. "For a long time, I wasn't sure I wanted that. If I left, how could you find me? And by the time I believed you'd never come, I knew enough of the world to know I was safer here."

"Friendship, then."

"I did want that," Rapunzel admitted. "You don't know how much." Her fists clenched and her words quavered. "Sometimes, I thought it would break me."

Philip rose to his feet and caught her hand between his. "But it didn't," he said, with soft reassurance.

"Not yet."

"It won't," he said, with the firm compassion of age. "Not while I live." He raised her hand between their faces and looked deep into her eyes. "We've lost so many years, Rapunzel. I can't begin to atone for what you've been denied, but I can make certain that you're denied it no more. Come with me. Leave this place."

Rapunzel felt as though the tower had crumbled beneath her, leaving her no firm place to stand. It was more than she had dared to hope for, not for years and years and years. "How can I?" she whispered. "Your wife and family..."

"My wife passed nearly ten years ago. My children won't deny me the comfort of your friendship."

She gazed out the window toward a distant world glowing with a purple sunrise. "It's been too long," she said. "Too much life wasted. So little time ahead."

Philip's eyes, when she looked back at him, were as bright as those of the boy she'd once known. "Then we'd best not lose another minute."

**

Her head felt impossibly light. Her hair felt strange where it brushed against her shoulders. She secured the long, long braid to the pulley outside her window, then let down her hair one last time.

Philip secured her in the braid like a harness, and slowly lowered her to the ground. When her feet were firmly on the grass--it was so much softer than she'd imagined!--he climbed down and landed beside her.

Philip took her hand in his. "Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded, too full of joy to speak.

"We'd best be on our way, then."

With her face toward the sunrise and her hand wrapped in his, Rapunzel strode forward and left the tower behind.

[assassin1513]

⚜️Crown Gate ⚜️

[jstor]

Hey JSTOR! Do you do recommendations from your database?

If so, you got anything on fairy tale scholarship?

Please and thank you 😁

Hi there!

If you're into artistic representations, we recommend Edmund Dulac's Fairy-Book (1916), part of an open access collection from the Minneapolis College of Art and Design. Here you can find a few beautiful illustrations based on fairy tales from across Eurasia!

If you're up for reading, another open access excerpt comes from Fairy Tale Films: Visions of Ambiguity's first chapter. This chapter discusses films based on fairy tales–chiefly, ideas around the generic idea of a fairy tale and its interplay with gender construction. You'll find recommended related texts in the sidebar!

Happy exploring 🧚