i've seen enough horror movies starring upper-middle-income white families stuck in spacious haunted mansions. gimme stories about millennials stuck in haunted studio apartments. consider the realism:

why is this protagonist staying in an obviously haunted building despite the glaring warning signs? because a week at a motel would send them spiraling into credit card debt, they'll take their chances with the vengeful spirits. why did they chose this apartment complex to begin with, despite the many many unexplained mysterious deaths that show up on the first page of a google search? hon some of us don't have the credit score to move away from high (paranormal) crime areas. how could i be so careless as to sign a soul-binding contract with a demonic entity? bitch they're called LANDLORDS

okay :)

Tumblr Folk Story

Ant Cthulhu

Tumblr ate my story! Goodbye to. just. so many thousands of notes. This was one of my first stories that people on tumblr liked. So I’m making it a new post, so that people can find it. Plus, of all the thousands who read the first one or two installments, not nearly as many discovered that I had written a third and final installment that ends the story, so here is a chance at that. 

The story was inspired by a pair of observations on Tumblr, where users probablybadrpgideas and 20thcenturyvole said, respectively 

“if Cthulhu can be summoned by humans who are so far beneath it, why can’t humans be summoned by ants? The answer is they should be.” and “Well if a bunch of ants formed a circle in my house I’d certainly notice, try to figure out where they’d all come from, and possibly wreak destruction there.“

It gets just a little dark, but any story named for Cthulhu surely must have some death and destruction, right?

ANT CTHULHU

That’s why knowing and correctly pronouncing the true name is so important to the ritual. Imagine how impossible it would be to not go take a look if the circle of ants started chanting your name. And they’re like, you can’t leave because we drew a line made of tiny crystals - now you have to do us a favor. And you’re like, let’s just see where this goes “yup, you got me… what’s the favor?” and usually the favor is like, “kill this one ant for us” or “give me a pile of sugar” and you’re like… okay? and you do, because why not, it isn’t hard for you and boy is this going to be a fucking story to tell, these fucking ants chanting your name and wanting a spoonful of sugar or whatever. And SOMEtimes you get asked for things you can’t really do, one of them, she’s like, “I love this ant but she won’t pay any attention to me, make me important to her” and you’re like… um? how? So you just kill every ant in the colony except the two of them, ta-da! problem solved! and the first ant is like *horrified whisper* “what have I done” …. _____________________________________________________________________

Keep reading

Tumblr Folk Story

If Cthulhu can be summoned by humans who are so far beneath it, why can’t humans be summoned by ants? The answer is they should be.

Well if a bunch of ants formed a circle in my house I’d certainly notice, try to figure out where they’d all come from, and possibly wreak destruction there.

That’s why knowing and correctly pronouncing the true name is so important to the ritual. Imagine how impossible it would be to not go take a look if the circle of ants started chanting your name. And they’re like, you can’t leave because we drew a line made of tiny crystals - now you have to do us a favor. And you’re like, let’s just see where this goes “yup, you got me… what’s the favor?” and usually the favor is like, “kill this one ant for us” or “give me a pile of sugar” and you’re like… okay? and you do, because why not, it isn’t hard for you and boy is this going to be a fucking story to tell, these fucking ants chanting your name and wanting a spoonful of sugar or whatever. And SOMEtimes you get asked for things you can’t really do, one of them, she’s like, “I love this ant but she won’t pay any attention to me, make me important to her” and you’re like… um? how? So you just kill every ant in the colony except the two of them, ta-da! problem solved! and the first ant is like *horrified whisper* “what have I done”

This is the best explanation for higher powers I’ve ever really heard.

tumblr myths! me! that i made! on the list with Arepo and the witch whose suitors must catch her cat that’s actually her in disguise <3

i actually went back and wrote two more installments that made this into a whole short story which can be read here if you want

(warning: when i wrote the third installment i had just become homeless, and I had to leave my dog in a better home than i could provide for him which is why the last installment is kinda dark and deals with avenging a dead pet. Just know he’s on the bed cuddling me right now as i type this)

Tumblr Folk Story

tags from @inneskeeper are SO GOOD

The walls didn't bleed, but the black sludge that slid down them at the first hint of rain had no plausible source. The cellar smelled of death, and yet the rammed earth had been swept clean. Doors slammed. The hot water was either ice cold, or a hazard. The stairs were... agile and greasy.

"Do you remember when Grandma got sick? When her feelings got too big and she got tired and sad?" She said, softly and quietly to her children, holding their hands. "I think the house's feelings got very big. I think the house saw some really scary things like Grandma did when she was little, and it's feelings are too big to carry. I don't think houses are supposed to feel things like that. It doesn't want to be mean, it's just tired and sad. We don't have to let it be mean, but we can't be mean back, okay?"

Ashleigh would read the house bedtime stories from her thick, cardboard, books. Stories about the moon, and kittens, and even one about a friendly spider. She still saw shadows sometimes, but they only stood in the doorway now. They didn't try to reach for her ankles in the dark. That was okay, because she didn't like to sleep alone anyway. She would tell the shadow goodnight, and that she hoped it had good dreams.

Bryce knew to use the infra-red thermometer to check the water before showers. "Hey, it really hurts when you try to burn me. Okay? I just don't want to stink like a-... like butt after band. I don't know why you don't want us to shower but like... see these things on the floor? They're rough so you can't slip or nothing, okay? Please don't burn me." And it didn't. Sometimes the temperature shifted a little but never as badly as before.

Sometimes they prayed with the house. They weren't sure what else to do. They didn't pray at it, and it wasn't exactly Christian or ... anything else really, but they just ... just... sat with it, and said words of gratitude and peaceful contemplation. They wondered if it missed that moment of familial togetherness around the table. Each of them would note something good about their day, and something that maybe had been bad but had taught them something important, and there was always mention of being grateful for a roof over their heads... that shelter, togetherness, and safety made it a Home.

"I like it here, Mommy." Ashleigh had said once. "It was scary at first but you were right... the house was just scared. We were new, and different and I think the house was scared we might tear it up and change it. But I like it here."

"I like it here too, Baby." She had said, quietly. She liked that she could afford to feed, clothe, and house two children because the house had sold for pennies on the dollar. She liked that there was room here for hobbies and game rooms, for a home office and a real dining room. "I think, deep down, the house likes us too. We know some sad things happened here, and that's a lot of big feelings. I think that as long as we're good to the house and show it that it doesn't have to be scary, or scared... that it'll get better."

That night she stared at the spot of damp threatening to leech through the fresh coat of paint. "House... or... whoever you are. My kids have been through a lot. And we're going to keep having this little talk for as long as we have to. Please just love them the way I love them. Love them the way they love you. You see how they walk in the door after school and the world falls off of their shoulders because they're home? That's not just us, that's you too."

The house settled, almost sighed. It, the amalgamation of suffering and grief and love and joy and birthday parties and funerals and breakfasts and beatings and... life... emotions... feelings... It, the House, considered the wisdom of this Mother's words. It could run them away and sip on their fear and rage or it could love them fiercely, and grow strong with them for generations.

That... wouldn't be so bad.

Tumblr Folk Story

Everyone who’s been talking to me knows i’ve been working on this comic about wlws and cats for a while and i’m so so happy it’s finally here!!! :D

idea stolen from this post :’3

you know what? fuck it

in 2023, self-deprecation is out self-exaltation is in!

I had a dream that the king and the queen of a small country had a daughter. They needed a son, a first-born son, so in secret, without telling anyone of their child’s gender, they travelled to the nearby woods that were rumoured to house a witch.

They made a deal with that witch. They wanted a son, and they got one. A son, one made out of clay and wood, flexible enough to grow but sturdy enough to withstand its destined path, enchanted to look like a human child. The witch asked for only one thing, and that was for their daughter.

They left the girl readily.

The witch raised her as her own, and called her Thyme. The princess grew up unknowing of her heritage, grew up calling the witch Mama, and the witch did her very best to earn that title.

She was taught magic, and how to forage in the woods, how to build sturdy wooden structures and how to make the most delicious stews. The girl had a good life, and the witch was pleased.

The girl grew into a woman, and learned more and more powerful magics, grew stronger from hauling wood and stones and animals to cook, grew smarter as the witch taught her more.

She learned to deal with the people in the villages nearby, learned how to brew remedies and medicines and how to treat illness and injury, and learned how to tell when someone was lying. 

Every time the pair went into town, the people would remark at just how similar Thyme was to her mother. 

(Thyme does not know who and what she is. She does not know that she was born a princess, that she was sold. She only knows that one night after her mother read her a story about princesses and dragons, her mother had asked her if she ever wanted to be a princess.)

((Thyme only knows that she very quickly answered no. She likes being a witch, thank you very much, she likes the power that comes with it and the way that she can look at things and know their true nature.))

The witch starts preparing the ritual early, starts collecting the necessities in the winter so they can be ready by the fall equinox. Her daughter helps, and does not ask what this is for, just knows that it is important.

The witch looks at Thyme, both their hands raised into the air over a complicated array of plants, tended carefully to grow into a circle, and says, sorry.

Keep reading

Tumblr Folk Story

cinderella marries the prince

and it’s… fine. The prince is great! They’re in love, he’s very sweet and passionate, writing her poems and songs, giving her anything she wants. The time she spends with her husband is great.

but cinderella is not royalty, her family was noble but she never spent time in those circles. She’s used to being busy, she’s used to cooking and cleaning and mending. There are hours, days, where she has nothing to do.

time passes. cinderella learns the fancy lady type of needlework. Learns to ride horses. Reads a lot.

as is normal for royalty at the time, they travel and are hosted by nobles or stay at castles owned by the king. But even that variety begins to become routine. The prince is distracted, there’s a lot of young women living and working on their route. Daughters of nobles. Younger and prettier with soft hands that have never done a day’s work.

cinderella needs something to spend her time on, and there’s a part of her thinking a couple-only trip might get her husband’s attention again, so she suggests making an old castle that’s fallen into disrepair their “project.” It was built in the time when castles were made to be defensible, so it’s quite sturdy, but it’s overgrown and secluded. The prince doesn’t know why his family stopped living there either. A hundred years ago it was their summer home.

so they go. And they work. And for a while it’s great! But when they leave for winter cinderella’s husband forgets her once again. cinderella resolves to make the best of her life and stop worrying about a man who has gotten what he wanted from her.

summer comes again and this time cinderella goes alone to the old castle (minus staff, of course, but cinderella manages to narrow it down to only repair workers and one maid). She can cook and clean and mend again, but this time it’s her own choice. She is happy.

this summer they make more progress on repairs. The workers say that most of it can be salvaged, except one tower that’s been completely overgrown with vines and briars. It will have to come down, eventually, but for now it can be safely ignored.

cinderella has more free time now. The old castle has a surprisingly untouched library, though time and moisture have damaged many of the books. Behind a collection of greek poetry cinderella finds an old diary. Very old, in fact, at least a hundred years. It’s rude to read a diary, of course, but whoever wrote this is long dead, and cinderella is bored, so…

from the description of activities the author looks to have been nobility. Maybe even a princess. She’s sensitive and sweet and smarter than she seems to realize. If circumstances had been different cinderella wishes they could have been friends…

after the summer ends cinderella returns to her husband. He’s spending a lot of time with a young musician and cinderella can’t even work up the energy to care. She does some research about the castle and the family she’s married into, finds out the name of the princess who wrote the diary.

aurora. Cursed and forgotten. She died young, they say, in a plague that also took out the castle staff and her own parents. Luckily they avoided a succession crisis, but not so lucky for the dead.

time passes. cinderella goes to the old castle again and again, even out of season. Soon enough all that remains to be done is the old tower, and the builders say they should tear it down and fill the gaps before it gets cold.

one night cinderella is restless. The princess from the diary had been fond of that tower, and cinderella is far more attached to a dead woman than she ought to be. She gets out of bed, reads by candlelight, and finally goes to walk the empty halls.

she finds herself going to the tower. Pushing past the vines that don’t seem so troublesome really. They almost part before her. The stairs are perfectly intact, the door at the top is already cracked open. As if she should have done this years ago, cinderella steps into aurora’s bedroom.

she’s as beautiful as the stories say. And sitting under her hands, crossed across her stomach as it rises and falls, is a book of greek poetry.

years later, people will tell the story of cinderella as a cautionary one. Don’t seek above your station. Don’t marry for prestige. After all, a girl who grew up as a servant once married the crown prince, and disappeared after only three years. She ran away, they say, she couldn’t handle the lifestyle.

two old women who run a bookshop together agree with the lesson. Marrying for the wrong reasons never ends well. It’s best to wait for someone you have things in common with, shared interests.

or, failing that, the more linguistic of the two says, wait a decade or ten for someone to fall in love with you from your diary.

her partner laughs and hits her with the socks she is mending.

Tumblr Folk Story

My adaptation of the God of Arepo short story, which was originally up at ShortBox Comics Fair for charity. You can get a copy of the DRM-free ebook here for free - and I'd encourage you to donate to Mighty Writers or The Ministry of Stories in exchange.

Again it's an honour to be drawing one of my favourite short stories ever. Thank you so much for the original authors for creating this story; and for everyone who bought a copy and donated to the above non-profits.

Tumblr Folk Story

‘God of Arepo’ Fan-made graphic novel part three (End) 

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Read the Original Story Here

Tumblr Folk Story

‘God of Arepo’ Fan-made graphic novel part two~

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Read the Original Story Here

Tumblr Folk Story

I made this a long time ago and was very nervous about posting it to Tumblr. I can’t really think of a good caption~ everything I wanted to say is in the little blurb at the beginning. 

‘God of Arepo’ Fan-made graphic novel 

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Read the Original Story Here

Tumblr Folk Story

A wolf goes for a walk in the woods and meets a dog for the first time

Tumblr Folk Story

if you don’t know the difference between a hare and a rabbit you’ve never gazed into the cold wild eyes of a hare and known that if it could speak it would speak backwards

Jack Rabbits are North American Hares and they’re the WORST to encounter at night becuase:

@gallusrostromegalus that last bit gave me such a strong mental image I absolutely had to draw it

WELL HOLY SHIT.

CONGRATULATE, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I WAS GOING FOR.

is it ok if I print it out and stick it on the fridge?

Tumblr Folk Story

Here’s the new 24 hour comic I drew this year!  This one is called THE KING’S FOREST.  cw: blood, violence

Tumblr Folk Story