#faefolk

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 139

Geralt has noticed some... Things... About his traveling companion, Jaskier. Troublesome things. Like how he's almost certainly of faeblood. It's just little things he does or says or is that make Geralt's imaginary radar go off. He never uses iron utensils, He is truthful to a fault, He's mischievous and lustful, He never breaks a promise, not in an honorable way, but almost in a way as if fate is forcing his body to complete whatever he promised, no matter what. He's also gorgeous. Even in times when the road should've worn him down. Where there should be dust or grime, Jaskier somehow still shines like a freshly polished jewel. And don't even get Geralt started on the impossibility of Jaskier's freakishly vibrant blue eyes. That is NOT human! There are always wildflowers when Jaskier walks in the woods, even sometimes when they are out of season. Trees seem to bend toward him, always making a cover for the rain to keep him dry. When he went swimming, Geralt swears the water looks cleaner afterward. One time Geralt got tired of human-safe food, and decided to cook their dinner that night differently. He cooked one serving all the way, safe for humans, and one only a little, still nice and raw, unsafe for humans. And yet Geralt came back from feeding Roach to find Jaskier happily chowing down on the raw one. Geralt went to warn him, but stopped. Could Jaskier really not tell the difference? Surely the texture and taste was different... And then Jaskier was done. Geralt waited a few days, just sure Jaskier would fall ill, as humans usually did when eating food Geralt has learned is unsafe for them, but Jaskier didn't fall ill. In fact, he seemed healthier than ever. Which could only mean he isn't human. When Geralt talks to Jaskier and hints about knowing however, Jaskier doesn't seem to realize. Which means he must not even know. Geralt paces around camp. How is he to break the news to Jaskier that Jaskier has fae in his blood? Perhaps his mother cheated, perhaps one of his parents were a changeling, perhaps a grandparent wasn't what they said they were, perhaps he, himself, is a changeling... Jaskier returns from a bathroom break and cocks an eyebrow at his witcher pacing around camp like a restless animal. "Geralt? Darling, what are y-" "Jaskier, you're fae." Geralt blurts. Fuck. That is not how he wanted to break the news to poor Jaskier. Jaskier is standing there, face paling, eyes wide, breath coming in short rasps. It's difficult news to deliver, and Geralt did it insensitively. Jaskier seems to be panicking. Geralt will help him, will comfort him. Fae or not, that's his Jaskier. Jaskier is freaking the FUCK out. Geralt found out he's fae! Fuckfuckfuck! He thought he was so good at hiding it! Sure, there were a few slipups here and there, as there is with any big secret, but he really thought Geralt was none the wiser! He should've known the monsterhunter would recognize a monster when he saw one. Now Jaskier must decide if he'll die by Geralt's hand, or try to outrun the witcher, as surely no man wants to be companions with a member of the trickster faefolk.

[faerynova]

this is what it feels like trying to read fantasy books

[chubbymuffinclub]

whimsidhe A fae in the clover 🍀🌸 📷 @carinteresaphotography

[oliversrarebooks]

get lost

a story about hapless wanderers and the fairy that collects them

Masterlist

TW: mind control, drugging, restraints, captivity, hypnosis, non-sexual touching and manhandling, condescension

You are lost.

Maybe you decided to go for a hike that was above your skill level. Maybe you wandered into the woods behind your suspiciously cheap vacation rental. Maybe you woke up here among the thick undergrowth. You might not even remember how you ended up here.

But you know for sure you are lost.

Any hint of a path has long been swallowed by roots and branches, moss and weeds. You might have some supplies, but they're not nearly enough to spend a significant amount of time lost in the forest. The trees are even so thick overhead that you can't reliably tell the direction of the sun, if you even knew which direction might help.

The only thing you can do is to keep trudging, hoping that eventually you'll get somewhere.

The more you climb over thick roots and rotten logs, the more you wade through tall grasses, the more exhausted you're becoming. Your calf muscles ache. Your arms are scratched and stung from twigs and rough bark and bugs. You're so tired. But you know you can't stop for long if you hope to get out of the forest before nightfall. It can't be that much further, can it?

You pause for just a moment to lean against a tree, taking a deep breath. The smell of green leaves and damp earth fills your senses, both pleasant and oppressive. This time, you think you sense something else. It smells almost sweet, like flowers or candy. It's different. And while you're not sure it will help, you feel drawn to it.

As you stumble further into the forest, you notice more and more flowers growing thick around you. Scatterings of clover and goldenrod are giving way to larger, more exotic blooms, in stunning jewel-tone colors. Even as the forest gets deeper and darker, you see more and more of the flowers, surrounding you, and the scent of sweet nectar and pollen grows stronger. It makes you feel woozy, almost drowsy, but you can't stop now. You need to keep going. 

You wonder vaguely how such large flowers can grow in a place with little sunlight. The flowers hanging from the branches and swaying in front of you are nearly as big as your entire face. They sway softly in a breeze you can't feel, and you watch them, transfixed in wonder. They're beautiful. And they smell so good.

You don't notice when your feet stop moving. You barely notice when something warm snakes around your ankles.

The flowers sparkle and shimmer and sway in front of you, and you sway too, dazed. A cloud of yellow engulfs your vision and you cough softly as your head fills with pollen. You feel so sleepy, so deeply drowsy, as though you'd like to lay down and take a nap, just rest your eyes for only a minute...

No, you can't stop here. You're lost, and the forest is dangerous. You muster up what strength remains to you to try and take a step back, only to realize that your legs are halfway wrapped in vines, holding you firmly in place. Your feeble struggles cause you to lose balance, and more vines catch you, wrapping around your chest and arms.

Your limbs are already heavy and numb from the sedating pollen, and your weak thrashes against the vines holding you captive do nothing to free you. Just as you start to panic, your mind trying to reassert itself against the numbing influences, the flowers appear before you again, distracting you with their colors. They're starting to blur, your vision fogging. You're getting sleepy, all of your fight draining from your body. You yawn involuntarily, taking in more pollen. You're fighting a losing battle against your heavy, drooping eyelids.

As your mind starts to slip into a drugged, half-awake daze, you're vaguely aware that the vines are pulling you against a tree and restraining you firmly but comfortably. You can hardly move an inch now, but you're becoming less and less inclined to try. It's so much effort to resist, when you could just fall into a dozing dream, relaxed and comfortable and so drowsy.

One of the flowers is growing closer, engulfing your entire vision. You feel the soft petals brush your cheek, the scent of sweet pollen and nectar intense as the flower seals around your face. The dim spark of consciousness that remains to you recognizes this as the final step in the trap: it's going to put you to sleep. You know now it's aware of what it's doing, and it's going to incapacitate you, make you sleep so deeply, helpless and unaware, vulnerable to whatever or whoever set this trap in the first place.

There's nothing you can do about it but take a deep breath. You're so comfortable and sleepy, and your eyelids are beginning to flutter, too heavy to keep open. You relax into the vines. Everything's starting to feel so floaty and far away, and it's so nice to feel your pain and fear flowing out of you. Every breath smells like flowers. Every breath pulls your eyelids down, coaxing you into a gentle, easy slumber. You're too tired and dazed to fight it, to even remember why you wanted to fight it. It's so much nicer to stop moving, to shut your eyes, to let the gentle flowers and vines lull you into sleep.

You skim the edge of sleep, and your dreams are filled with the forest, but you're not lost any more. You belong to it. You're part of the moss on the trees and the breeze ruffling the flowers and the ants marching in a neat line. Your mind relaxes, defenses lowering, as the wind and the  trees whisper to you in words you don't understand.

You don't know how long you sleep, but eventually you feel someone pulling at the vines holding you in place, the light pressure on your body loosening. You fall forward into warm arms, blinking slowly, dazed and just barely awake.

"There, there, I've got you," says a voice like flowing water, washing over you. "Just relax. You're safe."

You have questions, but your tongue is too thick to speak and your mind too drowsy to formulate them. "What...?" you manage.

"Shhh, hush, now. I'm going to take good care of you." 

You're being picked up in a strong grip, and you feel yourself being carried away, the meager light around you dimming as you're brought into an even deeper part of the forest. Your helpless body is laid down on soft grass and moss, propped up against a tree, and you sink into it, fighting the urge to fall back asleep.

A face appears in front of you, shining in the dim light. The eyes sparkle and the mouth smiles, but you can tell instinctively it is not human. 

The strange being sits back and begins to play on a set of panpipes, a low, haunting tune. Its form is difficult to make out, youthful and humanoid but not clearly male nor female, and you can see sparkling, deep blue wings like those of a butterfly. A fairy, perhaps -- that's the closest thing your mind offers. It seems clad only in flowers, ribbons, and strings of beads, which flutter slightly in the breeze. 

It's so hard to think, to even remember how you came to be here, and the music is slowly but surely stealing your focus away. The song is so beautiful, and you're completely relaxed and calm, not at all inclined to move, much less escape. Increasingly less inclined to think too hard about any of this. The air around you seems to sparkle as your vision blurs, your eyes blinking so, so slowly. 

Through your haze you see the fairy smile, looking down at you. You smile back weakly. It stops playing -- although the music continues to tie your mind in binds -- and kneels beside you. It tilts your chin up with the softest of touches, their fingers like sunbeams, and gaze into your glassy eyes.

"What's your name, little one?"

Your name spills from your mouth, and the fairy laughs with a sound like bells.

"Of course it is. You're such a silly little thing, running away from me, aren't you?"

Running away? Your brow furrows. Even in your entranced state, that doesn't seem quite right, does it...?

"You don't even remember why you ran away, did you?" The fairy ruffles your hair affectionately. "It's an awfully good thing I found you before you hurt yourself. You were like a helpless moth, flapping uselessly against a spider web."

"I didn't..." You're trying to collect your thoughts enough to explain why that's wrong. "I didn't run away from you," you finish weakly.

"No?" It leans in closer, eyes far too bright. "Then how did you get here?"

Your mouth opens and closes.

The fairy traces a finger along your cheek, just under your eye. "Can you remember?"

You can't. Your mind is still full of fog and pollen and everything feels like a blur. "...I was lost," you manage.

"Yes, you were," it says with a predatory grin. "And now you're found, but you don't even remember that you belong to me. Poor dandelion fluff." It produces a long, iridescent ribbon from seemingly nowhere, holding it up in front of you. "But don't worry, I'm not mad. I know you can't help it. Your head's just so full of flowers that there's no room for anything hard, like memories."

You'd like to protest, but that seems right somehow. Doesn't it?

"Here, let me put your collar back on." It ties the ribbon in a bow around your neck, and you're too relaxed to stop it. The ribbon feels silky smooth and weightless, and the fairy wraps one end around its wrist. That feels right, too, like something long forgotten locking into place. "Let's get you home, little moth."

It picks you up effortlessly once again, and your limbs are too heavy and numb to do anything more but lean against it. In the blink of an eye, you're flying. The soft, rhythmic wingbeats fill your ears and soothe you as the fairy somehow glides effortlessly through the thick tangles of branches and vines.

You come to a stop at a darkened clearing filled with enormous mushrooms, large enough to sit on and pulsating with soft blue-purple light. There are beads and ribbons and trinkets hanging from every tree branch. In the dim light you can see the sparkle of many colored crystals, and, off to one side, there seems to be a pile of people huddled on top of the mushrooms. Humans, like you, all in various states of undress, with their skin painted in wild, rainbow hues. All of them seem fast asleep.

Before you have a chance to wonder if this is the fate that awaits you, you're laid out onto a bed of soft mushroom, your ribbon-leash tied to a tree. You try to push yourself up and look around, but your head feels dizzy and your arms are heavy and uncoordinated. The fairy pulls your pack from your back and pushes you down gently. You watch as it rifles through your things, tossing this and that to the side, running its fingers down the rough paper of your sketchbook, using your pens to mark its hands, clicking your flashlight on and off, before tossing it all into a pile of other backpacks.

"Drink." The fairy is holding out a small clay cup of unnaturally bright red liquid. "You must be thirsty, little moth. Drink."

You swallow hard. Your throat and lips are dry, but the last remnant of your reason is warning you with all its might. "What is it?" you ask.

"Medicine, silly thing. Medicine to open your mind. Medicine to help you accept. Medicine to soothe you to slumber."

You manage to shake your head. "I don't want that."

The fairy smiles, the shimmering red liquid reflected in its impossibly large eyes, and speaks your name. It sounds like water rushing down a mountain, like fire consuming a forest.

It holds out the cup once more, and your hands reach to take it, unable to stop yourself from drinking. The medicine is warm and tastes like sweet berries and slides down your throat like a living thing.

"Foolish little bunny," it says gleefully, and then you feel everything. Slow. Down.

Suddenly, you're hyperaware of everything around you. The mushrooms below you and the cool air around you makes your skin prickle, the beads clinking together overhead sound like a symphony, and you can smell a hundred things you're sure you've never smelled before. It would be utterly overwhelming if you weren't completely relaxed. A butterfly flaps nearby, and you watch its wings sparkle through lazy, half-lidded eyes.

The fairy is in front of you again, holding a tray of little pots of pigment. It dips its fingers into the purple and runs its thumb along your cheek, outlining your eyes. Symbols are drawn on your forehead as it mutters strange words under its breath. With the pads of its fingers, it coaxes your eyelids shut, and you can feel pigment being applied to them too. You're not inclined to open them again as it lines your lips with colors, running down your chin and onto your neck.

"You're so cute under my spell," says the fairy. "Sometime I'll take you to a still pool so you can see how beautiful my painting is on your blank face."

It picks up your hands and decorates those as well, as your mind dozes and drifts, listening to the far off sounds of bird wings and creatures scuttling through the undergrowth. Your thoughts are filled with colors and mushrooms as a deft finger draws lines around your arms, the fairy's muttering turning into a song, a spell. 

You can feel the magic settling on you and around you like a heavy blanket. Your shoes and socks are pulled off too, landing nearby with a thud, and your feet are decorated, pigment tickling the soles of your feet and the spaces between your toes. Hands that feel sun warmed draw your wrists together and bind them with more silky, weightless ribbons.

"Sleep now, tired little thing. You're safe and sound here with me."

You're half-asleep, eyelids fluttering, as you're picked up and set down again next to the pile of other humans. 

You were lost.

And now you have been collected.

And now you will not be found.

[suzythesilkie]

Redesigning old creatures based on the Spiderwick Chronicle Field Guide

[loonybun]

Meeting Aisling (CYOA) 2

sorry i am a VERY slow writer and work on bursts of inspiration and writing sprints so this took FOREVER to write. anyways here it is.

contains: more fae shenanigans, implied magical manipulation, exhaustion, fae carewhumper, invasion of personal space, abduction, The Horrors (fun stuff because my canon doesn’t 100% follow traditional folklore as i like to add things in), just creepy vibes but i’m sure everything will be fine and he’s actually 100% harmless. most definitely!!!

—————————————————

“A photographer?”

He lights up and grabs onto your hands. Almost immediately, he lets go, but the fuzzy sensation dwells on your palm. The strange man continues on.

“That’s not something you hear everyday! I don’t know a ton about photography, but I may have seen some of your… Your picture-things! I never caught your name, actually. Would you mind giving that to me really quick?”

You can’t place why, but words send a shudder down your spine. Somewhere deep in your mind an alarm rings.

He’s still a stranger. You don’t give out your name to strangers. That’s just common sense. Sure, he seems friendly enough, but better safe than sorry. Instead, you give him the handle you use for your photography. That’s probably the main reason he was asking, anyway.

He’s obviously disappointed, but you decide to ignore the guilt. There’s an awkward silence before he speaks up again.

“—Well, follow me. Let’s get you somewhere safer, okay? You can call me Ai, by the way, but not like the ones you see with. Weird little nickname, but it’s what most people call me anyways. Unless we want to be formal with each other, but that doesn’t really seem necessary.”

His enthusiasm returns, and before you know it you’re practically chasing him through the dark forest. It’s hard to catch up with the way he deftly darts from tree to tree. You can hear him laugh as you fail to match his pace, and the sound echoes through the forest like the chimes of crystal bells, bouncing off of the trees.

Eventually, you manage to run up to him. He’d stopped to wait for you, and now he was sitting in the grass, grinning up at you strangely. The exhaustion overwhelms any urge to find the source of your anxiety. You’re still trying to catch your breath, and you soon find yourself down beside him. Ai pats the top of your head, patiently waiting for you to regain your strength.

“…The grass here seems so much softer. You don’t know why, do you? That’s okay. We’ll find out soon.” He murmurs, combing through your hair with nimble fingers. “Do you have your camera? You should take a picture-thing. This is a nice little spot. You probably won’t be able to find it again.”

You hadn’t even noticed, too concentrated on the soothing tones in his voice. You’d nearly fallen asleep right there. Oh god, you just cuddled up to a complete stranger. After a moment, you pull your thoughts together and focus on the area around you.

There’s still no signs of the campsites, but the area he’s brought you to feels safe all the same. Moonbeams stream in through gaps in the canopy above. The white light pours onto the plants around, casting them all into an ethereal state. You take your camera out of your bag and turn it on, eagerly looking at the screen—

But something’s wrong. Pink ebbs into the edges of the screen, and the middle keeps splitting into bars. You point the camera around in an effort to reset it. Ai curiously watches you struggle, that same odd smile still placed on his lips. For a moment, the camera pans over to him— or what should have been him. The bars on the screen seem to multiply and crack, barely obscuring something unfathomable and buglike. You look at the terrifyingly beautiful entity on the screen, then back to him. You hadn’t noticed his teeth before. They really shouldn’t be that sharp, should they?

“Is something wrong?” His voice still sounds so sweet. It makes you feel woozy. Sick. That thing wasn’t human. Where were you? The woods hadn’t even began to thin out. Had he taken you further in?

You shake your head, but you must have taken too long to respond. Once again, he’s by your side, a hand on your shoulder and the other positioned in front of the lens. He’s not smiling anymore.

Ai’s hold on your shoulder becomes firm, uncomfortable and tight.

“…—I didn’t�� I didn’t know it did that. Huh. Well— I’ve dragged this out long enough. I was hoping you’d get a few last photos of your world though… Just as a keepsake. Oh well, Maybe it’s for the best.”

A surge of panic shoots through your body. You immediately push him away, stumbling back in the process. You need to get away. Fast. Whatever he meant couldn’t be anything good. Did he want to kill you? Why did he wait?

He’s picked up on your panic.

“Woah, woah! Hey! I don’t want to hurt you. It’s not like that, okay? I just— I need you to come with me. It’ll be an adventure! Humans still like adventuring, right?” The thing’s slowly getting closer to you. You don’t wait to hear whatever he says next. All you can do now is run. Keep running until you find some way out of this place.

Despite your exhaustion, you keep moving, weaving between the trees and taking as many turns as possible. Anything to get him off of your trail. You can hear him behind you. It doesn’t seem like he’s running, though. There aren’t any footsteps.

WHAM. A branch collides with your forehead, and you immediately fall back onto the ground. You need to get up. You need to get up now.

It’s already too late.

He scoops you up effortlessly, ignoring your desperate flailing.

“Oh, ouch... That looked like it hurt. Hopefully it’ll only leave a small bruise. Anyways, I feel like I’m leaving a really bad first impression. You wouldn’t mind giving me a do-over once we get home, right? I mean— I feel like it was going well! Up until you got all freaked out. Not your fault, but next time maybe don’t run off like that.”

He doesn’t look human anymore. You’re looking into the slit pupils of some otherworldly being. It hurts to think too hard about it. It hurts to think at all.

He carries you back over to the spot you two had been before, taking you a bit further. Dread fills your stomach as he steps into the center of a ring of mushrooms and the world begins to melt around you. You can hear him whispering some reassurances to you, but you can’t process what he’s saying. Your eyelids feel so heavy. You don’t resist when he kisses your forehead, causing you to drift away entirely.

Sleep takes you under. It’s a relief. Nothing hurts anymore.

-

-

Your eyelids slowly open, glazing over your new surroundings. Sunlight streams in through a hole in the ceiling, as well as a window that has been thoroughly wrapped in vines. The bedroom is luxurious, but definitely not in any traditional sense.

There’s a large tree in the very center of the room. It’s a grandiose thing with slim leaves and dramatic pink flowers. It looks well taken care of. Still, it’s a weird decoration to have in the middle of a bedroom.

The man— or whatever it was— that brought you here is nowhere to be seen. That’s probably for the best. It gives you more time to find a way out of this place.

You notice the door parallel to the bed and immediately make your way over to it. Locked. You’re not sure what else you expected.

So that settles it. You’ve been taken hostage by some weird magical creature for god knows why and you have no way of knowing where you are. At least he hadn’t restrained you. You could still escape. Things weren’t over yet.

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added!!): @whumpy-wyrms @inkwell-and-dagger @lordcatwich @kawaii-cakes

[jev-urisk]

Wip Wednesday ✍️

Today i'm doing a little Way Back Wednesday and bringing you the first few paragraphs of Chapter One: Appearances (Klaus POV 🌻) from my story 🌐7 Circles🌐.

Found on pinterest

Demyen Calvaire's parties have a reputation for being elegant and refined, and this is shaping up to meet the standard. The banquet hall is decorated entirely in white, from the marble floors, to the tablecloths and place settings, to the fine fabric draping elegantly down from the high, arched ceiling in decorative splendor. His PAs mill about all in snowy white, save for the chromatic silver collars they all wear, setting up trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks. Even the goblets are a work of art, specially ordered for the occasion. They’re made of blown glass, shaped into roses with sharp, thorned stems. The guest of honour stands in high relief to the snowy décor. Demyen Calvaire's youngest son is dressed almost entirely in black. His vest is made of a dark satin embroidered with silver thread that matches the rings glinting on his fingers and the earrings that march up his ears, disappearing into his artfully mussed black hair. Only Klaus and his father know the truth: everything here is designed as a beautiful trap. "It would all look riveting with more red to contrast, wouldn't it Klaus?" The long-haired sire says with veiled threat, long canines on display as he smiles at his bastard child. "Though, it would be best if we waited for your honoured guests to arrive first–hmm, half-breed?" he adds with a quiet sneer, his voice too soft to be heard by the non-demonic staff working on final touches. "If that ever comes to pass, you must find whoever you sell me to and tell me how you managed to explain away your involvement, Father," Klaus replies, baring his own fangs in what most people would mistake for a smile. "I'd love to see what excuse you feed to the Sovereign Executive for how I escaped your notice for such a long time." Demyen turns on his heel, facing away from where others might see his livid expression and gets nose to nose with his son. They looked remarkably similar, from the color of their hair to the shape of their jaw, both handsome as a lust demon is expected to be. As immortal creatures, even the age of father and son has started to appear congruent despite the centuries between them. But the son is more tanned, the father's hair longer, and the contrast of their eyes cut sharply as Demyen's rosé irises look piercingly into the deep onyx gaze of his son.  "Perhaps I'll tell the truth- that a conniving fae whore tricked me into siring you, and if I had not been magically bound to that hellish deal I would have slain you rather than sheltered you," he hisses, before gritting his teeth in a charming smile and turning back around as the double-doored entrance to the ballroom opens, signalling the arrival of their guests. 

Ah, good 'ol daddy issues. 😌🔥 This is basically how the book starts and it is so so fun and exciting to me how far things have come already, and how much support I've received already! 😵‍💫💕 Here's to a year of more 7 Circles content and spectacular mutuals!

Taglist: @gioiaalbanoart @biblicallyaccuratefruitbat @lychhiker-writes @autism-purgatory

@wyked-ao3

@cowboybrunch @zackprincebooks @smellyrottentrees @tragedycoded

@aalinaaaaaa

@the-golden-comet @quillswriting @nbkuhn @ddgraywrites

@desastreus @theglitchywriterboi

@shanakin-skywalker @honeybewrites @sincerelydorky

@the-letterbox-archives +Open Tag!

HMU to be added or yotted from the taglist!

[thestalebread]

Hey, quick question, do tumblr users not know that the general public have never heard of “the fae”

I swear, the way people on this site talk about the fae it’s as if their lore is as well known as vampires. Where did everyone learn this? Is this what that Fairyology book is about?

[rosemaryprosser]

The gentle hum of the mountains (Aosta Valley, Italy 2023)

Instagram | 500px

[dreamdropsystem]

BLEH - Kitt

[faerynova]

fairy based on angel wing mushrooms and some of my sisters characters

[flusteredfools]

It's only snowed once but this has been in my head since, glad I got myself to finish it! Now to see if I will finish the mistletoe kisses, though I don't know if anyone but me wants to see it XD Although this scene isn't going to be in the Fic, I'm going to pretend. You can read my Faeful Hearts DCA AU Fic Here

[oliversrarebooks]

Augusnippets Day 4: Amputation

Masterlist

tw: amputation, drugging, restraints

Bramble struggled fruitlessly against the cold iron bonds that were keeping him chained to the table face down. The hated metal made him so weak, unable to use his magic, completely at the mercy of the human who had trapped him.

"Well, now, this is a fine prize." His captor ran a rough hand along his sensitive wing, making Bramble shudder. "Gonna fetch a hefty payout. Aren't I lucky?"

Bramble bit back tears, feeling violated by the unwelcome touch. He'd always been so proud of his wings, which shimmered like a hummingbird in the morning sunlight. This filthy human didn't deserve to look at them, much less touch them.

"I wouldn't move if I were you. You'll be real sorry if you do," said his captor, as Bramble flinched away from his hands. "On second thought, I'd better make sure you can't move. These wings are too valuable to spoil."

Just out of the corner of his eye, Bramble could see his captor approaching with a syringe filled with milky fluid. Bramble cringed but didn't fight it. If he couldn't escape anyway, he'd rather be unconscious for this. As the cold drug entered his system, he could feel his limbs becoming heavy and numb, his mind becoming disconnected from his body.

But his fear didn't subside, and Bramble realized that his captor wasn't merciful enough to make him sleep. He'd just drugged him enough to keep him from moving.

Bramble squeezed his eyes shut as his captor picked up a saw from the tray, unwilling to accept what was going to happen, right up to the moment when the blade bit into his wing root.

Masterlist

@augusnippets

[aliencrystals]

Found these n had to make them transparent they r so beautiful

[loonybun]

TRICK OR TREAT!

hiii take this thing i wrote a while back!!

contains: faerie whumpee, hunter whumper, abduction (ish), loss of control/autonomy, burning, and implied cannibalism. fun lineup i know.

They poked their head out of the doorway, looking over the unfamiliar living room. Hand-knitted doilies and blankets littered the place, completely covering any furniture. A figure at the other end of the room sat in front of the fireplace, warming a pot of water over it.

Various hunting tools were neatly hung up beside the door, tarnished from years of use.

“Are you feeling better?” The human had turned around. They were facing them now, smiling softly. They only received a brief nod in response.

“…That’s good. You were pretty banged up when I found you. I don’t even know how you managed to do all of that damage in a snare.” They tutted, constantly turning back to look at the boiling pot. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing you back here to patch you up. I figured it’d give you a chance to rest.”

The faerie they’d spoken to slowly made their way over to the door.

“I appreciate your kindness,” they murmured.

Their words made the human smile brightly. “And you’re planning to be on your way?” They tilted their head at the faerie. “The woods aren’t kind to those who wander this far in. You’re sure you can navigate it?”

Hesitation flickered across their face, before they finally nodded. “…Yes, and… Thank you. For saving me.”

“You should repay the favor by staying for dinner.”

The faerie glanced back at them, making firm eye contact for the first time.

They found the abyss looking back at them. A miscalculation.

Their fingers grazed the doorknob, only to flinch back in pain.

“I’m asking you to repay my favor. I don’t think my request was unreasonable.” The human chided them, black eyes gleaming in the dim firelight. The faerie stared for a moment, clutching their burnt hand.

An invisible force drew them in, closer to the stranger. Before they knew what was happening, they were sitting on the couch, hands anxiously gripping the knitted quilt beneath them.

“I don’t want to stay for very long.”

It was more of a plea than a request.

The human took the water off the fire and moved over to the next room, leaving the faerie in agonizing silence. Time seemed to drag on and on until their eventual return. This time, they were carrying a dish of meat and a fork.

Their visitor shifted with discomfort.

“I… I don’t-“ They stuttered, unable to force the words out.

“I know.”

“I can’t-“

“I don’t think you’ll have a problem with it once you try it.” Their captor mused, picking up a chunk of the substance and bringing it closer to the faerie’s lips.

They squirmed away from the fork, but their struggles were cut short when the human forced their jaw open and closed their teeth around the utensil. The coppery taste of too-rare meat flooded their mouth.

The horror of recognition overpowered any sense of relief they could have gained from it.

“I knew you’d like it.” The stranger hummed, offering them another bite.

[jev-urisk]

WIP Wednesday ✍️

(And also 7SS/Heads up 7 up/writing share- thanks for the tags yall!! ❤️)

I am taking a short break from Kazimier and his tomfuckery to give you a teaser for book 2 because I MAKE THE RULES DESPITE WHAT KAZIMIER MAY HAVE US THINK.

This is POV of a new character, a banshee named Tizita, and I can't recall if I've posted this before lmao

Spoilers.

It's midnight on the marsh, and the full moon glints through the gaps in vegetation filled by dark waters. A mourning dove coos somewhere in the night, accompanying the quiet hums of the insects floating in the breeze that caresses the reeds and grasses as they sit in their pools.

One such pool stands apart from the rest, framed in smooth paving stones and without any foliage breaching its still water. It sits like a mirror in the dark, glistening with moonlight and perfectly ovular.

As the breeze gently disturbs the water's surface, the form of a person can be seen in the shallow pool. She looks almost ethereal in her white dress, which floats softly about her calves where the soft pleats flair. Her coiled hair is gray, despite the youth of her face, and frames the dark skin that shows no sign of decay. From her full round lips to the grey lashes of her closed eyes, she simply appears to be sleeping.

This was by no means a bed, but there was something serene about the young woman's place of rest. The breeze dies down, and the wetland shines once more from the reflection of the celestial overseer hanging in the sky.

The moon is the first thing the young woman sees when she wakes in the marsh alone.

The mirror of her pool shatters, water splashing and rippling as she breaks through the surface with a gasp. Her white eyes are wide as they look blindly forward.

"The Fae will rise again."

Before any other thought--where she is, why she was beneath the water, what had happened to her--five words come to her, and she breathes them frantically into the night.

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