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Sea Hag Mask
Little snippet for you, fae flavored ❤️
“I love you infinitely, pet,” the fae murmured into her ear, and Clara laughed.
“I love you too.”
The fae smiled against their ear.
“But not to infinity?”
“My infinity is not the same as yours. You have it, and I never will,” she breathed, and stepped back.
“I could give you infinity,” the fae said smoothly. “If you wished.”
Clara laughed again.
“You know that’s not how immortality works.”
The fae got a confused twist to their mouth, like something she said irked them, but it was gone as quickly as sunlight over running water.
Clara tugged their hand.
“I love you for all of my eternity, however short. And I do not wish for immortality. I wish to spend my moments with you until I have no more to cash in.” She smiled at them, and whatever trouble had lingered between their brows vanished. “Does that not mean as much as your eternity?”
“I suppose it does, pet.
The fae still had that easy way about them, all long limbs and fluidity.
“Now. What was it you wanted to show me?” She asked.
Impossibly, the fae smiled more.
“Come, pet. Let me show you,” they lifted one elegant hand and the door glided open behind them. Clara followed them through in time to see the lights flicker on, one by one.
Her breath caught.
“What—“ she paused, her throat closing. “What is this.”
The fae turned to look at her, pride glimmering behind their eyes.
“My art gallery. Do you like it?”
Clara choked.
“Art—no. No, this isn’t art. How could you—“
She turned for the door, wishing for nothing other than to let her feet carry her from this wretched place, fast, fast, fast—
It slammed, shimmering as wards fell into place. Wards she knew held her name, entrusted on a now broken promise. Wards that would kill her before she was allowed to pass.
The fae glided deeper into the cavernous space, all white walls and gleaming pristine floors, as if they hadn’t heard her.
“It is beautiful,” they mused. “Nothing in here comes close to matching your beauty, though, pet.”
“Please,” she said under her breath, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from dragging across the pieces of ‘art’. “Let me go. Let them go. Stop this.”
The fae paused their careful stride.
“Oh, pet,” the fae simpered, and suddenly they were tucking her chin into their palm. “I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can,” she said bluntly. She thrust a hand towards the glimmering doors.“Just release the wards.”
The fae clicked their tongue. “I would,” they smiled, and it was just a touch wicked. “If I wanted to.”
Clara forgot to breathe, fury and sickness and betrayal rising in her chest and sinking into her stomach like lead.
“How can you not see how wrong this is—“
“All I see,” the fae interrupted, almost gently, “is beauty, forever cherished and kept. There is no pain or suffering here.”
“Of course there is,” she bit out. “You aren’t human. You don’t understand what this would even feel like.”
“I do this to understand, pet.” The fae tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I hadn’t found it before you. But I think you’re the answer. Out of everything in here, I cherish you the most. To have you depart from me would surely kill me, and see, it’s the most human thing I’ve ever experienced. Love,” the fae said wistfully.
“So then let it happen. Let me die in my own time. Feel the love and the loss and the grief, and then you’ll be more human than you ever have been. Then you’ll understand.”
The fae smiled like they were talking to an unruly child.
“Oh, darling pet. I told you, I do understand. You have given me understanding; I cannot bear to have you apart from me. So I’m doing the most human thing of all. I’m keeping you.”
“You cannot keep a human being—“
“This is what selfishness feels like,” the fae murmured. “It’s a vicious thing, I’ve found.” They smiled at her. “I quite like the burn of it.”
“You can’t do this to me, I won’t let you,” she swung her fist into their chest and it felt like hitting the side of a mountain.
The fae sighed.
“I never said you would let me,” the fae tucked her close to their chest, ignoring her as she writhed and shouted. “Oh, darling Clara,” they murmured, and her knees went slack. “Do stop fighting me, won’t you?”
Her body followed the command even as her mind protested, her spine quivering at the use of her name from a being like the fae.
It had never matter before. The fae had never used her name, even when she had given it as an act of love. Even as she blindly trusted them, they never once let those syllables fall from that ever sharp tongue.
But now— now they used it as a weapon, just as they used the rest of their words.
The fae ran a hand lovingly over her forehead.
“I must thank you,” they said as they picked her up, striding towards an empty pedestal. They took the time to position her just so, ensuring every angle of her body was perfectly aligned. “You have taken the beast of me and turned me human. And oh, is it so delightfully painful.” The fae clucked quietly to themself. “And such, I cannot bear the loss of you. Now, Clara dear, stay still for me.”
Her muscles froze into stone, ropes of concrete twining up her bones until she was more a statue than rock itself.
The fae smiled in adoration.
“You always were my favorite. Don’t let the rest of them tell you otherwise,” the fae strode for the door, stopping to call after themself. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe here, pet. I love you, eternally.”
The wards shimmered as the fae passed through, until Clara was left alone in a room of living statues that stretched for miles.
Her mother had told her never to trust the fae, but she had sworn this one was different. And judging from the hundreds of frozen humans in this room, they had sworn the same. She wondered if they cursed her, silently, for her stupidity. She wanted to tell them she was sorry.
She had been wrong. And so had they.
So she stayed—they all stayed, statues in an art gallery borne of the delights of a creature with stolen humanity.
Safe, and loved, and oh so still.
Forever.
Erlking - Wikipedia
I mention Erlking/erlkonig a lot on this blog.
So incase y’all were curious.
He’s basically the inspiration for Jareth.
Don't let her squinty lil grin fool you, for this fae is purely wicked.
She'd rather chop you down, then part with one of her flowers. ~🖤nugget🖤~
Nettlespit Thistle-Tick, chaotic evil trickster fae, delighting in sudden, sharp, unpleasant surprises. She of loose eyelashes, hanged nails and stubbed toes. Of slivers and pinpricks and wasp stings and burrs. She of the jolt, the trip and the stab.
The collar she wears binds her in service to the High Daemon Priestess Doloria, (AKA Our Lady Of Perpetual Resentment) as punishment for releasing a cacophony of discordant cicadas in the middle of one of Doloria’s musical recitals. Nettlespit spends most of her time pursuing mischief, both against, and on the behalf of, her wicked mistress.
aranyhíd (hungarian, n) - “the golden bridge”; the reflection of the sun as it shines on water
CW: Mind control, magical compulsion, kind of hints at pet whump
Exists in @wildfaewhump's Iesin and Talvos universe.
Tagging: @astrobly @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @slaintetowhump , @quirkykayleetam , @whumpallday
Calon Nie's yellow eyes glinted, gleamed, shone like strange lights on a deep still pool. They settled in his face, behind his eyelids, and Killan could still see them - feel them - even in his sleep.
Watching, always watching him.
He had thought his eyes were stars, at first, but he could tell now he got that wrong.
Calon Nie's eyes were something worse. Will o'the wisps to lead men off trails and to their deaths. Siren-song from beneath the waters of a lake. They caught him, again and again, as soon as he felt some hint of unease do more than flicker underneath the soft weight of obedience.
"Buachaill del," Calon Nie called to him. Pretty boy. He knew the words now in the fae's sibilant tongue. It passes for a name.
Killan wanted his own name-... just once-... but he didn't have it here, either.
He moved as though his legs were someone else's legs. Pretty boy, puppet on strings, watch him dance to the fae's song.
Calon Nie loved to sing.
He loved to see Killan dance, too.
"Yes?" He dropped to his knees before the winged fae, who watched him with a hint of amusement in deep yellow eyes. In the dark woods they glowed, slit-pupiled, as much demon as bird and man combined.
Killan used to think people made the horror stories about the fae being monsters up.
Now he knew better, because it wasn't just a story at all. Not for him. Not now.
"Mine," the fae reminded him, was always reminding him. "My boy. Calon Nie's human. Want wings clean, me. You do."
Killan shuddered - he hated the softness of the fae's wings under his fingertips, at odds with the life he was trapped in, now. "Calon-"
"No argue. Clean wings now, you, or punish."
Killan shoved himself to his feet. The yellow eyes locked on his. Reflections of a monster's attention, cutting as deeply as any knife ever could.
"Clean wings," Calon Nie repeated. "Happy to clean, you. Happy to serve."
There was nothing different in his voice. There was no resonating echo, only the gentle insistence of the command as it settled into Killan's mind.
When he moved behind Calon Nie, he was smiling.
He loved the feeling of soft feathers between his fingertips. He loved everything he did for his fae.
Because his fae told him to.
Dark Fairy Aesthetic Board
Oooh, I love these, how about Agelast - A person who never laughs?
(takes place in the Fillis Angst AU with @whump-tr0pes. Although none of Athena's OCs are present - Ellis and Finn are discussed and Ellis gets a line)
CW: references to vampirism, dubcon, and noncon... And some child stealing?
"They don't laugh, much, do they?" Corrinne's eyes locked on the retreating back of the dark-haired mother of Corrine's newborn daughter Iris. Ellis was flanked by two guards as they were led back to their room.
Corrinne held the child in her own arms, Iris quietly content and full from her last meal.
Corrinne was content and full, too. The basement cells were fully emptied once more.
"Finn doesn't, either," Patrick said, swirling a bit of whiskey in a glass, an eternal smile crooked slightly on dark lips. "Not unless I take them far away from their own mind. It takes some effort. They'll come around."
"You like this one more than the last," Corrinne noted, pressing a fingertip to her daughter's lovely button nose. Iris cooed in return. "Yes, that's a love... Mommy loves you so much. That's my beautiful little girl."
"My beautiful girl, you fuck!" Ellis's voice came muffled from the next room as the guards wrestled them up the stairs.
Corrinne laughed at the furious anger in the mother's voice. Patrick chuckled, too, bringing his whiskey to his lips.
Then, eyes sparkling with irrepressible good humor, he snapped his fingers.
A guard appeared instantly at the door. "Yes, Mr. Michaelson?"
"Bring me Finn. Now."
The guard was gone a moment later.
"I swear, you can't stand a moment apart from your plaything these days," Corrinne mused.
"You have our daughter on your lap, love," Patrick said cheerfully. "I want my plaything on mine."
