Yes this could have to do with the fact that Freya the Norse Goddess of love, beauty and fertility drove a chariot pulled by cats.
So, if I ever get married, I fully expect a catmobile.
One of the other reasons why they gave cats to each other was for their valuable skills as mousers. Cats were able to control rodent populations around their properties.
Also, Norse myths are thought to have the earliest literary descriptions of the Norwegian Forest Cat. They were described as large, strong cats that drew Freya’s chariot and were so heavy that not even Thor, God of Thunder, could lift them from the floor. (Source)
They kinda live up to the legend, too. Your average Norwegian Forest Cat is twenty pounds of solid muscle, with claws large and strong enough to climb solid rock. They’ve been known to attack bears when defending their territory. And yet they’re one of the cuddliest breeds out there, particularly noted for being patient with small children.
I have a Norwegian mix, and can attest that she is the cuddliest cat but also insane enough to try and fight a bear.
Viking cats “FIGHT ME”
Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, still could not lift this cat.
Not gonna lie, one of my favorite parts about writing urban fantasy is determining how and where the fantasy meshes in with reality.
Like, I’m not saying Freddie Mercury WAS a siren, but have you ever heard anyone NOT sing along to Bohemian Rhapsody?
I rest my case.
It is a six-minute song with incomprehensible lyrics that seem to have something to do with murder and demons, with five sections that are completely different stylistically but no chorus.
It was number one on the the UK singles charts twice, 15 years apart, and is by many measures one of the most popular, or the most popular, single of all time.
Yeah, there’s magic involved.
And an absurdly broad swathe of people know it. I have no memory of learning it, do you?
And this is how The End is stopped. Not by the gods or goddesses, the other races than man, no. It is Tumblr. As a mass running after a now confused and tail tucking Fenrir, whining softly as the crowd chants “PUPPER! PUPPER! PUPPER!”
Better yet: Fenrir escapes his chains and lopes forward to destroy the earth, and is met by a crowd of people. An army, Fenrir thinks, and bares his teeth in a ferocious snarl and charges toward them.
They cheer.
Wait … cheer?
Fenrir slows, confused. He smells no fear, senses no rage. This is … a very strange army.
The first hand—weaponless!—reaches for him; he tenses, ready to tear the offending limb to shreds, and lets out a high little yippy whine when it pats him about the ears.
Immediately the noise is reproduced by some four or five of the nearest humans; he smells excitement; more hands are patting him.
It’s nice.
The humans crowd around him, patting him and scritching him and shuffling around to give others a chance. Voices coo, and make puppy noises, and someone catches just the right spot and he cocks his leg and scratches himself, drawing a multitude of oohs and ahhs and cheers and squees.
At some point, his hunger awakens at the scent of burnt flesh; a human has brought him what he later learns is a hot dog; he swallows it in one bite, to more cheering, and looks around hopefully for more.
It is not long before more is bought: steaks and Big Macs and bacon; it seems like much of the group has brought him a snack of some kind and was hoping for a chance to give it to him.
The End of the World is supposed to be at hand, but Fenrir does not care. His hunger sated, his battle-lust swept away by a tide of gently petting hands, he rolls over, careful not to crush his many companions, and takes a nap.
“Who’s a good boy?” they ask him, over and over.
Is this some psychological warfare, he wonders, designed to undermine his confidence and remind him that he is nothing more than a monster who needs to be chained?
“Who’s a good boy, huh, huh?” “Who’s my good boy?” “
And then one of them answers the question for him.
“You are!”
‘Me?’ he thinks. But if there was any doubt, she confirms it.
“You are, yes you are.”
Fenrir’s tongue hangs out of his mouth as he grins. ‘I’m a good boy!’
This would work. Fenrir was betrayed by gods that he trusted; they feared his strength and tricked him into accepting being bound because he trusted Tyr, his friend. (Loki was not directly involved in selling out his own son; usually Loki is involved any time someone gets tricked by the Aesir, but it’s notable that he was not, here.) The deal was that Tyr would put his arm in Fenrir’s mouth to prove that the gods were acting in good faith when they tied Fenrir up to “let him prove he could break the chain”; when he couldn’t break the chain, the gods refused to free him, and Fenrir bit Tyr’s arm off, because that was the deal.
So Fenrir has a serious rageboner going on against the Aesir and all of creation; that’s why he wants to eat the sun and end existence. A huge number of humans validating him, praising him, petting him and giving him yummy treats might actually convince him that, while the Aesir are still assholes and would deserve it if he ate them, he should not eat the sun because Midgardians are totally cool and give him petties.
When I posted the first Elsewhere University comic, I had no idea what it was going to turn into over the following months. The community that’s grown out of it – the stories and art and obscure bits of folklore and science, the fortunetelling asks and vague anon prophecies, all of it building on itself and branching into places that still manage to take me by surprise – has created a weirder and more wonderful world than anything I could have imagined. This comic is meant as a celebration of everything that’s grown out of the stories set in Elsewhere, and an expression of gratitude. I wasn’t even close to being able to include everything; the Library alone would need a dozen pages. For those whose works I did include, I dearly hope I did them justice. Words can’t express what this world and community have grown to mean to me, but I hope this comes close. Thank you so much, all of you. Keep making amazing things.
All works referenced below the cut, if you want to learn more about them!
NASA: we used to have 9 planets but we now only have 8 Pluto: Stop telling everyone I’m not a planet! NASA: Sometimes we can still hear its voice
Look, I’m not saying that demoting a planet named after the Roman god of Death stoked his rage and brought down on us his vengeful fury and retribution but…
And this is how The End is stopped. Not by the gods or goddesses, the other races than man, no. It is Tumblr. As a mass running after a now confused and tail tucking Fenrir, whining softly as the crowd chants “PUPPER! PUPPER! PUPPER!”
Better yet: Fenrir escapes his chains and lopes forward to destroy the earth, and is met by a crowd of people. An army, Fenrir thinks, and bares his teeth in a ferocious snarl and charges toward them.
They cheer.
Wait … cheer?
Fenrir slows, confused. He smells no fear, senses no rage. This is … a very strange army.
The first hand—weaponless!—reaches for him; he tenses, ready to tear the offending limb to shreds, and lets out a high little yippy whine when it pats him about the ears.
Immediately the noise is reproduced by some four or five of the nearest humans; he smells excitement; more hands are patting him.
It’s nice.
The humans crowd around him, patting him and scritching him and shuffling around to give others a chance. Voices coo, and make puppy noises, and someone catches just the right spot and he cocks his leg and scratches himself, drawing a multitude of oohs and ahhs and cheers and squees.
At some point, his hunger awakens at the scent of burnt flesh; a human has brought him what he later learns is a hot dog; he swallows it in one bite, to more cheering, and looks around hopefully for more.
It is not long before more is bought: steaks and Big Macs and bacon; it seems like much of the group has brought him a snack of some kind and was hoping for a chance to give it to him.
The End of the World is supposed to be at hand, but Fenrir does not care. His hunger sated, his battle-lust swept away by a tide of gently petting hands, he rolls over, careful not to crush his many companions, and takes a nap.
“Who’s a good boy?” they ask him, over and over.
Is this some psychological warfare, he wonders, designed to undermine his confidence and remind him that he is nothing more than a monster who needs to be chained?
“Who’s a good boy, huh, huh?” “Who’s my good boy?” “
And then one of them answers the question for him.
“You are!”
‘Me?’ he thinks. But if there was any doubt, she confirms it.
“You are, yes you are.”
Fenrir’s tongue hangs out of his mouth as he grins. ‘I’m a good boy!’
Agdistis – A two-sexed deity who castrated herself. (Greek, Anatolian)
Dionysus – Dionysus is often described as androgynous. (Greek)
Hermaphroditus – Hermaphroditus is two-sexed and the origin for the word Hermaphrodite. (Greek)
Attis – A transgender or eunuch consort of Cybelle. (Anatolian, Phrygian)
Loki – A shape shifter who has given birth in a female form. (Norse)
Ishi-Kore – A transgendered Kami. (Japanese, Shinto)
Inari – A shape shifting Kami who has taken on the form of both male and female genders. (Japanese, Shinto)
If anyone knows of other gender ambiguous, multi-gendered, or agendered deities, chime in!
—the-brambled-way
Aphroditus – an aspect of the Greek goddess Aphrodite, depicted as a female figure with male genitalia. Worshipped in certain cults, including in Athens.
Hapi – Egyptian god linked to the flooding of the Nile, represented as a male figure with a feminine body type (including breasts) to indicate fertility.
Ardhanarishvara
– a composite of the Hindu gods Shiva and Parvati, represented as half man and half woman. This is more of an iconographic representation than a separate deity.
Phanes – a primordial Orphic deity in Greek religion, with some attributes linking him to Dionysus (also an important Orphic deity) including being ‘two natured’ and ‘two shaped’.
mythology on ice 9/~: Lyudmila Belyakova & Yekaterina Smolentseva
ZORYA
Slavic: Two sister goddesses, Zorya Utrennyaya the Morning Star and Zorya Vechernyaya the Evening Star. Every morning Zorya Utrennyaya opens the celestial gates for the sun and every evening Zorya Vechernyaya closes them upon the sun’s return. Together they guard the hellhound Simargl.
Steel Phoenix Studios 