storytelling – Tumblr Exodus

megarah-moon:

“Rhiannon” by Briar

In Welsh mythology, Rhiannon is a horse goddess depicted in the Mabinogion. She is similar in many aspects to the Gaulish Epona, and later evolved into a goddess of sovereignty who protected the king from treachery. Rhiannon was married to Pwyll, the Lord of Dyfed. When Pwyll first saw her, she appeared as a golden goddess upon a magnificent white horse. Rhiannon managed to outrun Pwyll for three days, and then allowed him to catch up, at which point she told him she’d be happy to marry him, because it would keep her from marrying Gwawl, who had tricked her into an engagement.

Rhiannon and Pwyll conspired together to fool Gwawl in return, and thus Pwyll won her as his bride. Most of the conspiring was likely Rhiannon’s, as Pwyll didn’t appear to be the cleverest of men. In the Mabinogion, Rhiannon says of her husband, “Never was there a man who made feebler use of his wits.” After Pwyll’s death, Rhiannon married Manawyden. Her name, Rhiannon, derives from a Proto-Celtic root which means “great queen,” and by taking a man as her spouse, she grants him sovereignty as king of the land. In addition, Rhiannon possesses a set of magical birds, who can soothe the living into a deep slumber, or wake the dead from their eternal sleep.

Primarily, though, Rhiannon is associated with the horse, which appears prominently in much of Welsh and Irish mythology. Many parts of the Celtic world – Gaul in particular – used horses in warfare, and so it is no surprise that these animals turn up in the myths and legends or Ireland and Wales. Scholars have learned that horse racing was a popular sport, especially at fairs and gatherings, and for centuries Ireland has been known as the center of horse breeding and training.

ｓｏｕｒｃｅ

of-loreandlegend:

Arawn

Hir yw’r dydd a hir yw’r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn

(Long is the day and long is the night, and long is the waiting of Arawn.)

Arawn is a Welsh mythological figure who was the king of Annwn before Gwyn ap Nudd took the throne. I like to think he retired more than he died because, hey, even kings of the Underworld must get tired of their jobs sometime, right?

He features prominently in the First Branch of the Mabinogion. Pwyll, prince of Dyfed, is out hunting one day and he finds another pack of hounds feasting on a dead stag; he chases them off and allows his own dogs to feed from it. First thing to note is that, while perfectly nice, Pwyll does lack foresight and common sense. He can be kind of dumb. He looks at the other dogs and realises, “Well, shit, these are some weird fucking dogs.” Because really, what kind of normal dogs are shining white with blood red ears? He chases them off anyway.

Enter Arawn.

He gets kind of passive aggressive with Pwyll, telling him, “I know who you are but I’m not talking to you because you have offended me!” He doesn’t actually tell Pwyll what he’s done wrong until Pwyll, nice bloke he is, asks. (It also has to do with the fact that Arawn is of higher rank but he doesn’t actually tell Pwyll this until after Pwyll’s promised to pay him back.) So he tells Pwyll that, in order to make up for this offence, Pwyll has to go to Annwn disguised as Arawn for a year and kill this guy called Hafgan for him. In return, to avoid suspicion, Arawn will pretend to be Pwyll. They do this and, at the end of the year, Arawn is astounded to hear that not only has Pwyll been a good fucking king, he also hasn’t had sex with Arawn’s wife so she’s still seen as faithful to him. He thinks, “I’ve got a good fucking friend here.”

After Pwyll kills this guy for him, Arawn and Pwyll just keep getting closer and closer as chums. They send each other presents, like hawks and horses and hounds. They are so chummy by the end of this bit of the branch, that Pwyll drops the “prince of Dyfed” part and instead becomes known as “Pwyll Pen Annwn” instead (Pwyll, head of Annwn basically.)

Nice.

He kind of falls out of the Mabinogion from here on out. He’s referenced in the Fourth Branch, when Pryderi (Pwyll’s son, who really deserves his own post) basically tells Gwydion, “I’m not giving you these pigs for free; Arawn says I can’t.” But apart from that…eh, Arawn? Who’s Arawn? Some people think that a large part of the First Branch is actually missing, and that maybe Arawn is more closely linked to Pwyll’s marriage to Rhiannon and Pryderi’s conception than is actually indicated. Which, if that is the case, is fucking heartbreaking. The friendship between Arawn and Pwyll’s family is very long lived, and the gift of pigs to Pryderi probably indicates some incredible longevity (if not outright immortality) on Arawn’s part because by the time of the Fourth Branch, Pwyll is long dead and I’d imagine Pryderi at least pushing forty by this point because of the all the shit that went down between First and Fourth.

He pops up again in the Battle of Trees, because Gwydion’s brother Amaethon is nearly as much of a shit as Gwydion himself and steals a dog, a deer and lapwing from Arawn. Arawn and Amaethon do fight it out, but Gwydion fucks it up by animating an entire forest to act as his army and ultimately wins on behalf of his brother by guessing the name of one of Arawn’s men. This probably isn’t the end of Arawn but it may well have been the point where he threw up his hands and said, “That’s it! I’m done! Gwyn, you take over!”

Arawn’s most prominent reference in modern pop culture is in Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain, where he is the lord of death who is determined to fuck shit up in Prydain to the point no one can save it. His foe is, again, Gwydion. It’s actually quite interesting that Arawn’s name is given to an antagonist when, by all accounts, Arawn is a much much better person than Gwydion will ever be. Seriously, Gwydion’s a fucking dickhead. The reason is probably because death = evil, as well as the fact that the Christianisation of the myths often translated, or just plain referred to, Annwn as “Hell” when it was actually closer to the paradise of Heaven. Which might have something to do with the fact that Annwn was sometimes described as being underground.

But that, my friends, is a story for another time.

runawaymarbles:

duamuteffe:

illesigns:

Pixars 22 Rules of Story Telling

9 is worth the price of admission, holy crap.

1. Admire characters for attempting more than what their successes have been.

2. Keep in mind what’s interesting to you as an audience, not what’s fun to do as a writer. They can be very different.

3. Trying for theme is important, however, you won’t see what the story is about until you’re at the end of the story. Got it? Now rewrite.

4. Once upon a time there was ___. Every day ___. One day ____. Because of that, ____. Until finally, _____.

5. Simplify. Focus. Hop over detours. You’ll feel like you’re losing valuable stuff but it sets you free.

6. What is your character good at or comfortable with? Throw the polar opposite at them. Challenge them. How do they deal with it?

7. Come up with your ending before you figure out your middle. Seriously. Endings are hard. Get yours working up front.

8. Finish your story. Let go even if it’s not perfect. In an ideal world you have both, but move on. Do better next time.

9. When you’re stuck, make a list of what wouldn’t happen next. More often than not, the material that gets you stuck appears.

10. Pull apart the stories you like. What you like in them is a part of you. Recognize it before you use it.

11. Why must you tell this story in particular? What’s the belief burning within you that your story feeds off of? That’s the heart of it.

12. Discount the 1st thing that comes to mind. And the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th– get the obvious out of the way. Surprise yourself!

13. Give your characters opinions. A character being passive or malleable is easy for you as a writer, but it’s poison to your audience.

14. What’s the essence of your story? what’s the most economical way of telling it? If you know that, you can build out from there.

15. If you were a character, in this situation, how would you feel? Honesty lends credibility to unbelievable situations.

16. What are the stakes? Give us reason to root for the character. What happens if he doesn’t succeed? Stack the odds against him.

17. No work is ever wasted. And if it’s not working, let go and move on– if it’s useful, it’ll show up again.

18. You have to know yourself, and know the difference between doing your best & being fussy. Story is testing, not refining.

19. Coincidences that get characters into trouble are great. Coincidences that get them out of it is cheating.

20. Exercise. Take the building blocks of a movie you dislike. How would you rearrange them into what you DO like?

21. Identify with the situation/characters. Don’t write “cool.” What would make YOU act this way?

22. Putting it on paper only allows you to start fixing it. If a perfect idea stays in your head, you’ll never share it with anyone.

nehirose:

voidbat:

punishedlynx:

writing-prompt-s:

Across the galaxy, every life bearing planet evolved cats and nobody has ever figured out why.

My designation is Vespir, Radiant Prime. My exalted war-frame currently holds a geosynchronous orbit with a small blue and green orb of a planet. I am 276 solar cycles in age, according to the standardized time measurement of our Empire. Said Empire is vast, encapsulating 713 sentient species, over 2,000 habitable worlds in 1328 systems, and hosting three trillion individual existences. We are beautiful in our expanse, and gracious in our sovereignty. All are equal under the banner of the Empire, and all opportunities are afforded to those that would prove their willingness to work. Societal strife is practically non-existent, and our recorded history notes this current time as being the most peaceful to exist, other than skirmishes with anti-Empire federations. By all accounts, I am pleased and honored to live and serve in such a beneficent stewardship.

However, one question has always burned in the core of my being since my earliest days, and it is for this reason that I have come to this far-off world. The question? That in and of itself is a small tale. I believe I was 15 cycles old at the time. Hah. How young. My psionic crystals had just grown in and my toxin sacs were constantly full. Such a time of adventure where every stray thought caught in my receptor was prized upon as a shining treasure. Alas.

We were on a science vessel for an educational trip, headed to a small biological preserve, and it was there that an interesting…quirk of the universe was revealed to us. A bored-looking Shalui grasped a small, mammalian animal in it’s numerous manipulator tendrils, stroking it’s short black fur with one while gently supporting it with the other six.

“This life-form is a warm blooded, fur-possessing, carbon based quadruped belonging to the genus Helyne. Though many species exist under the genus of Helyne, all species are capable of successful mating with one another, producing viable offspring. Furthermore…” the Shalui instructor droned on, but we had long ago stopped paying attentions. Kaits, as they were called in our language, were admittedly adorable, but they were also everywhere. Our family took care of three. Why were we being told about something as basic as this?

My question was soon answered, though I had not voiced it with vocal or psionic activity.

“Though a generally agreeable type of life, no one would call the Heylne line particularly noteworthy. Steadfast companions, to be sure, but utterly common in ability and makeup. However,” our instructor mused for a moment as one manipulator tendril splayed open to gently caress the fuzzy cheeks of the animal. Seemingly caught up in the affectionate motion, he hastily continued. “there’s one exceptional thing about the Heylne.”

Silence, other than the contented vocalizations from the kait in his hands.

“Across every star system we have reached, every world we have annexed, every regrettable war we have fought, one constant remains true. The genus Helyne. If you’re unaware of the significance of that…Vespir. Come here, if you would, young lord.” My features must have betrayed my rapt attention. I rose, not breaking sitting posture, enveloped in a blue shroud of psionic energy. Regarding me for a moment, the instructor whispered something into my mind and I nodded.

At the Shalui’s request, I unfurled my six slender legs, letting their scything tips gently click against the metal floor. It was considered rude for an Espiri to walk using their legs in spaces that were not their own and instead we moved with our psionic power once we were capable. Our legs were strong and slender, beautiful in a way, but had evolved as tools of fierce locomotion and terrifying weapons of predation. Not suitable for a civilized society.

I now stood directly next to the Shalui instructor. Our races had come into their own on the same planet, in the same biomes. We fought and killed for thousands of cycles, until we abandoned the hatreds of our past and formed the Empire some seventeen thousand cycles ago. I understood the point my instructor was trying to make then and there.

For living on the same planet, eating the same food, and adapting to the same circumstances, our races couldn’t be more physically different. Shalui were, to put it basically, a walking bundle of tentacles that had adapted to different tasks. That was a gross oversimplification, but enough to illustrate the point. Their faces were a gently pulsating mass of thin, gorgeous lines that fluctuated and reformed to make expressions. Espiri found them especially attractive when they were angry. On the other hand, an Espiri was a basic head-torso-limbs situation. Six legs, two arms, a slender build throughout. We possessed chiseled skulls, angular and almost geometric. As we aged, psionic nodes grew through our bodies, allowing us to manipulate our surroundings and communicate without talking.

So how had the kait, or rather, the Helyne spread all the way across our galaxy and remained so ubiquitous? Simply living in a different hemisphere provided interesting variations of life, not to mention the extreme changes regarding the long timelines and unique challenges facing evolutionary growth on entirely new planets.

From that day I knew. It was no accident, no random occurrence. Someone, or something, had seeded all worlds with this spark of life. Perhaps a great progenitor race, brilliant and wise in their infinite ages. For the next 250 cycles, I rose through the ranks of society, becoming Radiant Prime to Her Burning Will. Our light shone across the galaxy, illuminating the darkest corners, seeking answers lost to the scourges of war and time.

I found it. At the edges of the Empire, on the fringes of civilized society, I found it. That progenitor-world I dreamed of as a youth, and chased voraciously. I devoured every scrap of knowledge from every single sentient race we came across until I had the pieces in my hands, and could only follow them to their conclusion. We had no designated name for the planet, but radio wave blasts recorded millennia gave me a moniker. Earth. A curious planet. Holding orbit, I gathered data with my war-frame, perusing imagery of the surface. I glowered at the feeds. There was nothing here. Perhaps once, long ago, some 150,000 cycles ago, there was a spacefaring civilization. But it had gone, and all that remained was the peaceful husk of massive tower, gleaming near the equator. Faint traces of technology were visible in the scans, including what looked to be a data repository based on the banks of crystal lattices buried in the earth. The tip of the tower looked like it once contained a massive payload, presumably ejected long ago into starspace.

Activating the anti-grav psions in the flux core, I descended on the “Earth.” I had built a communications cipher using their ancient radio blasts, capable of translating their Eyglishe and Khainese to our native tongue. The spire was wholly consumed with vegetation, but the structure was built to last. Perhaps a final monument to a species that encountered too many genetic flaws to continue. Perhaps a world grave, built by conquerors. Perhaps…simply an entertainment center. I had no way of knowing.

Granting the space due reverence, I left the metallic shell of my war-frame and glided across the verdant flora that covered every inch. Holding one arm out in front of me, a holographic display popped to life, and augmented my vision. The data told me “down”, and so I descended from daylight into darkness.

Time was nigh-meaningless on this star, but I felt the moments slip away from me. The holographic display indicated a passing of a thirty-sixth of a rotation before I reached the presumed data repository. It went without saying that there was no power, but our civilization was great in it’s foresight and technology, especially in regards to discovering secrets of the past. From a canister I produced an adaptive nanopolymer and a universal hardline connector to the solar power bays of my war-frame. After clearing off the console that was connected to the crystal lattices, I carefully poured the polymer over the console and watched it think for a fraction of a moment before shaping into a plug for the connector.

I was finally here. Ready to learn the secrets of the past. 250 cycles in the making for me, but how much longer for the brave spirits that undertook this before me? I, Vespir, Radiant Prime, stood on the precipice of fate and prepared to be illuminated.

The console flicked to life. A holographic display of an Earth native seemed to spin in place, surprised, before looking up at me. It appeared female, with a thick mane of black keratin descending from it’s round skull. It wore garments of black over it’s leggings and torso, accentuated with a coat of white. It’s skin was an attractive dark olive colouration – most likely a defense against the somewhat strong ultraviolet radiation. It’s two eyes – front facing, predatory and keen, decorated in lavish black frames – centered on me for a long moment.

It laughed, loudly. Audio boomed through the undisturbed halls. This was a vocalization of joy? Despair? Displeasure?

“Holy shit, you’re kinda fuckin’ ugly man.” The hologram said, adjusting the frames on it’s skull, as if to see me better. It was a hologram. It did not need to perform this action to see me better. The translation was instant, and I understood the words, but I could not help my disbelief. The Earth-form continued.

“Well, I say ugly, but that’s from my viewpoint. Biologically, god damn you’re fucking beautiful. Look at those legs! And you’re not even using ‘em! Wow. Those crystals? Is that some sort of psychic waveform generation? Jesus. Wish the actual me was around to meet you.” The hologram mused on as I regained my composure.

“I am Vespir, Earth-form. Radiant Prime of Her Burning Will. Who are you?” The earth-form tapped a digit to it’s lips before speaking.

“I’m Emma, uh, a human being. I’m the…brilliant…researcher of a super long dead civilization! Like, 180,000 years dead according to the data I’m getting just now and oh god that’s pretty depressing. I’m also a mind scan, so I’m really not even Emma. But hey, close enough, right big guy?” Sadness touched upon my mind, and I identified this feeling as my own. Waking up from an eternal slumber to find your existence to be unreal and your species gone.

“I apologize for this intrusion, and for disturbing your much deserved rest. However…” I trailed off “Emma-Uh, I must kno-” In my excitement, I realized I had descended and splayed my legs out on the ground, so that I was supporting my own weight. My psionic nodes pulsed an embarrassed blue, and I retracted my legs, floating once more.

“Cute.”

“I….?”

“You were so excited you had to actually stand.” She was uncanny in her intelligence, noting my apprehension at using my legs in this space. I admired it.

“It was…not a deliberate action, this much is true. Regardless. I’m afraid I really must ask a question of you, before I return you to your vigil.” Emma-Uh seemed to regard me for a moment before she shrugged.

“Shoot, but I’m gonna give you a condition if you want my answer to whatever it is you hauled your alien ass out here for.” Her stance seemed aggressive. A power play, for sure, but it could not be contested. She held the correct cards, and I was surely performing a disservice to her by practically waking the dead.

“Agreed. What do you wish?”

“Take me with you.” She didn’t miss a beat. Bending down at the waist, she touched the non-existent ground and stood back up. “You’ve got some pretty amazing technology to interface with some old human junk this easily. You’ve obviously got a ship with some mode of faster-than-light travel if you’re here by yourself. You also have freakin’ psychic powers. I’m sure you can build me some kind of hot robot body in exchange for whatever priceless knowledge you want from little old me. Old, old, old me.”

To say I was floored would be an understatement. But I could not refuse. Brash and vulgar, but possessed of a keen intellect, Emma-Uh could be a fantastic asset to our Empire. There was also something else.

Empathy. Guilt. I woke her into a quiet and unmoving world where she was the last of her kind. In that moment, she was thrust into the future and found out she was the digital ghost of a long dead woman. To say I felt reprehensible would to understate the matter.

“Glowing spider dude, just let me see the stars, come on. I’ll tell you anything.” Her voice pierced my mired thoughts.

“…Agreed.”

“So what did you wanna know?”

I considered heavily for a moment, before I asked the question.

“What…are kaits? Helyne? Why are they on every habitable planet? Why are they such a constant?” The translator that met our words halfway formed these into the words she knew. Her eyes went wide and she laughed, laughed so hard she cried, falling down onto an invisible ground and rolling around.

“Cats? Oh dude, it worked? It fucking worked! Dude!” She yelled loudly, staring up at the forested ceiling. It was a long moment before she spoke, holographic eyes glazed over in remembrance.

“Well, our civilization was dying out, we never mastered faster than light travel on a scale big enough to move colony ships. Just tight-beam information blasts. Everyone else was gone, and I was here, alone. The real me, not this spooky Microsoft ghost. It was just me and Ike, my pet. And I was like, ‘gee, Emma, aren’t cats great?’ So I…well. I kinda took a sample of Ike and ran it through a profiler, and I made a million, million variations of that double helix, and…I blasted that information into the great void. I really just thought, ‘wouldn’t it be neat if everyone could have a cat, even when all the humans are gone?’ It’d be a shame if the best thing about Earth couldn’t be shared with the stars.”

Confusion and a strange joy welled in my core. It was a longer moment before I spoke, deploying a data-probe into the console as I did. It activated a prompt for Emma-Uh to respond to as I did. The prompt read, “Accept transfer?”

“So…you, blasted a genetic information wave to the entire galaxy, seeding countless stars with Helyne data, because you thought ‘cats’ were great?”

“Yeah, that’s basically it.” Emma-Uh nodded as she tapped the prompt, slowly transferring into the war-frame’s vast databanks. I spoke to the warm darkness ahead of me, unsure if Emma-Uh would hear my words. They needed to be said anyway.

“…You made a wonderful difference to the universe.”

::clutches this post tightly::

OH WELL JESUS.