#faerie fruit lore

[liliths-den]

Grubnock’s Choice: When Loyalty and Freedom Collide - or A House-Elf’s Path to Freedom - A Fairy Short-Story

Grubnock’s Choice Grubnock was not like other house-elves. Though bound by tradition and magic, his origins were whispered in the faerie courts—an anomaly born of the Seelie and Unseelie realms. Once a free brownie who chose to help those in need, Grubnock had been tricked into servitude centuries ago by a cunning mortal who understood the binding rituals of house-elves. The betrayal still…

[goldiloxnpaintedhands]

[whinnyornot]

PLEASE NOTE: I made these fan redesigns before SSO released or teased any of their magic Gen 3 Shires. This can be corroborated on my Instagram account. All of my old Whinfell redesigns together. This was the project that first got me into redesigning and conceptualizing SSO horse breeds. I think there are some elements I probably would have changed had I worked on these today, but I'm still very proud of how the finished concept turned out as a collaborative project between my clubmates and I.

Which one was your favorite?

Zala: Clouded Crimson moth to chestnut-based fleabitten grey Ouranos: Pompelon Marginata moth to smoky black roan Fayruz: Comostola Laesaria moth to silver bay Tanzi: Gold moth to palomino roan Enfys: Mother of Pearl moth to mushroom Corcráin: Purple-Bordered Gold moth to dunksin roan Azahar: Painted Lichen moth to flaxen black chestnut Individual posts of the Whinfell redesigns: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] Original Lore Post: Here

Lore Transcript:

"Magic Horses on Jorvik are creatures of stories and folklore. As the tales are passed down over the ages, the legends of these horses have been kept alive…

The Whinfell are said to be spirits of growth and fertility. During the spring and times of harvest, these pollinating horses run through Jorvik, dropping iridescent scales from their fur that nurture and greatly enhance the growing power of any foliage they may land on.

This power also extends to the feathered fetlocks of the Whinfell which are a sight to behold, and Jorvegian folklore describes them as having the power to make crops flourish overnight. All it takes is for a Whinfell to gallop across a field of growing produce, and by the next day, the plants will have grown to fruition.

Some legends say these powerful creatures are commonly used as mounts for faeries who braid their manes into tiny stirrups and reins, and ride the Whinfell throughout the night, assisting them on their fruitful runs through the forests and fields. Should a human be so lucky to befriend a Whinfell, they must take great care not to undo the braids within its mane, lest they bring about the wrath of the fae.

While typically wary of humans, the Whinfell makes an excellent companion once their trust is gained. However, riders should steer clear of cities and brightly lit roads at night. The Whinfell are inexplicably drawn to artificial lights and can become so entranced in their glow, they may forget to watch where they are going!

Whether in their true magical colors or in disguise, they ride just like the Shires they resemble."

[justbelievinginmagic]

ariadne's thread ⎯ pt. 11: as the world falls down.

pairing(s): hyunjin x fem!reader series summary: when tempted by an intoxicating offer by hyunjin the goblin king of the underground, you fight against him to find your own sense of self once more while in his labyrinth. glimpse: with the sweetness of the fae-fruit on your lips, you blinked your eyes open to a magical celebration. an opulent ballroom spun before you with intrigue and wonder, drawing you into a fantasia and further and further away from the labyrinth and your worries. warnings/tags: inspired by the 1986' movie Labyrinth, follows majority of the movie's plot points with lore divergence, 3rd person POV, use of Y/N, mature, suggestive adult content, faerie lore, world-building, explicit language, implied drugging, a lot of overwhelmed YN, toxic relationship, idolization, manipulation, unequal power dynamics, implied background alcohol consumption, tons of flower symbolism, magic, vomit mention, other than thatttttt lemme know if i need to tag anything else :) this is my favorite chapter fyi ive had it written for literally years. like, all of this was leading up to this chapter in my head lol word count: 7.1 k previous chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist

Around her was magic. Not the twisted upside-down magic of the Underground but pure beautiful shimmering magic she had once dreamt about as a young girl.

Y/N was in a ballroom – a grand ballroom with marbled floors veined in sparkling gold. Polished and shiny enough to see herself in, but that didn’t matter now as she heard the music swell and whirl in the air wondrously. Her gaze rose higher and higher, following the tall-mirrored walls to the mirrored ceilings above. With how the room curved into a circle and all the looking glass surrounding her, it made the entrance hall to the grand ball room seem to go on and on for forever. Sparkling with star dust and silver and gold. Long ivory silken curtains that held a soft glow in them towered above her, draping this way and that, hiding what she assumed to be windows of starlight and moonshine in this strange space she found herself in.

Looking ahead, opulent drapery of ancient lace and silken organza linked between marbled cornices, shimmering and glittering in between the dozens of low-hanging chandeliers that glowed with honeyed flames. Milky-beeswax dripped down the chandeliers – leaving long trails of wax in the sky. It looked as if these candles had burned for many, many hundred years; each chandelier had formed wax stalactites of different sizes and colors. Pale pinks, oranges, and blues. Strange and yet beautiful. It didn’t seem out of place and somehow only elevated the wonder of the room.  

Bubbles of varying sizes drifted into the room, sparkling unnaturally around her. They almost danced around her in a waltz, urging her to move along. Some pressed soapy kisses to her skin, her cheeks. Popping as soon as they pressed against her. It reminded her of the scene from Cinderella – the bubbles gleaming in different technicolor hues, impossible yet somehow happening before her eyes.

As she blinked about, the large room’s mirrored walls gleamed and shimmered. Winking at her. There was that magic-remnant, sparkling in the glass as if they were made of magic and not simply just a looking glass. The light and magic seemed to bounce off one another, sending a kaleidoscope of sparkles glittering into the candlelight. Y/N was reminded of soapsuds – as if the very ballroom she was standing in was an iridescent bubble.

It was holographic and lacey and wonderful. But the siren calls of the ballroom ahead intrigued her, the giggling and loud conversation clashed with the orchestral music. Taking a few tentative steps forward, she entered the verandah of the grand ballroom.

Every corner was beautiful and intriguing here, too. Opulent but not busy. Ancient but not aged. Flowers beyond anything earthly bloomed around the room. They clung to pillars, to cornices, to statues, to the floor, even to the tall mirrored ceilings. Ivy the color of rich olive and unnatural silver curled around the aging gold-gilded mirrors on the circumference of the ballroom. Blossoms of snapdragons, lyre flowers, camellias, and columbines shadowed the ceiling. Delphinium, jasmine, roses, and peach blossoms climbed down the waxy stalactites like fungus.

Gold and silver intertwined throughout the grand ballroom as she walked down the marble stairway steps to the atrium of dancers. Past a marble sculpture of some woman with twisted horns coming from her forehead, chiseled away in a scandalous attire.

It was odd, because at one glance, it was posing with her arms pressed to her chest, but if you glanced away and back, suddenly the sculpture looked different – with its hands above its head in joy. It had moved. Not in a dangerous way, but as if she itself was dancing. A statue dancing… impossible.

Y/N’s lips parted in confusion before a couple bumped into her as they hurried into the ballroom, giggling as they held their masks up to their faces before she could spot what they looked like. It was too late – they were swallowed up by the crowd, the dancing whirling bodies of opulence and extravagance distracting her.

Women were dripping in pearls and diamonds and flowers as they twirled in the large ballgowns with their breasts nearly tumbling out of their corsets. Their ballgowns consumed the ballroom’s floor in a layered mess, yet somehow none of them stumbled over the fabric in the ocean of people.

Men wore opened silken shirts and tight velvet pants that held little to the imagination as they entranced their partners. Some wore no tunic at all, simply vests of dark luxurious fabric. Sweat slick bared chests, shimmering with the magic dust she saw everywhere. Lip-sticked red mouths cackled and kissed at throats. Some men wore gowns; some women wore trousers and bore extravagant hats.

Hats and horns and wigs and façades of debauchery curled around the mass of attendees. Masks of grotesque creatures . . . of monstrous goblin faces she realized. . . were pressed to their faces as they danced about. Wrinkled greying skin, orange leathered scales, occasionally strange-looking feathers made up the masks. Hiding their youth with monstrosities. Or their monstrosity with their beauty, Y/N didn’t know.

The world was a whirling, swirling, laughing technicolor blur. The air was heady with the scent of sweat, the expensive perfumes and cologne of nobility, and the heavy aroma of the blooming flowers that hung everywhere. It felt primal in a way like a jungle.

Those who were not in the brilliant waltz were strown about the circular ballroom. Reclined in chairs or pressed against columns with tiny goblin servants stacked upon one another to reach their mouths, feeding them odd-looking fruits or pouring wine from elaborately-carved wooden goblets and shining hand-blown glass chalices. Spilt honeyed wine trailed down skin that nearby partners would lick up lasciviously with hot tongues and darkened eyes.

Y/N glanced aside, spotting multiple dips in the marble floor – pillow pits with only the finest of silks, velvets, and lace cushioning the pit into a soft escape for men and women to lethargically lean into one another’s embrace. Lovers were kissing, groping, pouring the honeyed liquid into one’s mouths. She spotted a breast freed and a lovers’ lips lock over a goblet of golden honeyed-wine before there was a whirl of a dancer in front of her gaze, blocking out things she didn’t need to see.

Her gaze left those corners of the party quickly. There was a burning on her skin. Flushing red as she felt the eyes of others sting against her skin. Fanged smiles and cruel chortles behind ornate masks and elaborately painted hand-fans. She hated the burn of the laughter; humiliation and loneliness stung.

Where was her mask? She wondered, looking down at her emptied hands.

Was that why they were laughing at her?

Another group of women rush past, giggling and chortling as they push past her. Spinning in a whirl, alone, finally, Y/N caught a look of herself for the first time since entering the ballroom. And with it, it felt like the weight of the fabric on her skin materialized. Heavy against her bones, real and heavy. Elegant and expensive.

Her gown was a mother-of-pearl color, a shimmering silver thing with a million different layers and large off-the shoulder puffed sleeves. Long sleeves covered her arms, but the fabric was not thick nor lacy but a strange shimmering skin-tight fabric. It made her arms glisten with rainbow constellations as she turned them this way or that in the ivory candle-light.

Her bodice had an intricate brocade fabric of fruit, embroidered in a silver thread that gleamed like spun starlight. Peaches, pomegranates, other organic shapes of fruits she couldn’t describe, and curling leaves made up the design with jeweled beads of sunrise pinks, yellows, oranges and sunset gold and purples embellishing her pearlescent corset. It was laborious work to make this she realized once she brushed her hands over them. They had to have been hand-sewn with how delicate they were. At the top of her sweetheart neckline, there was a constellation of sea-glass pearls, lining and guiding the eye down her corseted bodice to the gathered pooling fabric on her hips. The layers of shimmery organza and silk poured over the crinoline-lining she must’ve been wearing to achieve such a big dress.

Stepping closer to the nearby mirror, she looked closer at herself, awe in her eyes. Her face looked pretty in this light. Blurred and perfect as if there was a filter over her features. Perfect. Large curls made up her hair with portions of her locks gathered in intricate holographic silk ribbons and twisting silver metalwork, tugging it from her face. And around her neck, a necklace held those odd sea-glass pearls, transparent yet cloudy with colors of the rainbow, matching the chromatics of her dress as she twirled tentatively. The fabric swished in a pleasant way, swooshing with a watery iridescence that seemed impossible. 

She. . . was beautiful if not a bit youthfully innocent. It wasn’t a dress with slits and curve hugging fabric. Instead, she felt like a princess. Like a magical illustration of a princess from the fairytales she loved.

Approaching one of the nearby mirrored walls, her hand reached out to touch her reflection. Reverently. Disbelieving. In the reflection, she spotted eyes on her again. Too many eyes in fact. Many of the dancers were watching her from behind their mask. Even while they twirled about, they seemed to turn their necks at unnatural angles just to keep their shadowed eyes on her, at all times. Darkened eyes that seemed to watch her every movement. It was a bit eerie. She felt like prey.

She didn’t like that.

Turning, she caught a glance of blonde hair and winter eyes. She gasped at the glimpse of him in between the throngs of dancers. Just barely. He quickly disappeared into the crowds. Vanished. She stood there trying to find him again – like spotting a pearlescent fish in a net of writhing carp.

“You’re her?” a voice murmured.

It was a man – young and handsome enough despite the mask – yet as he brazenly stared at her, up and down her shoulders, breasts, hips, and finally her face, she felt a mixture of disgust and . . . pleasure. His foxy-goblin mask hugged his face tightly, only making his eyes visible. His leering eyes. She couldn’t see if his eyes were curled into a smirk or a frown or a grin.

“A pretty thing.”

She could recall being called pretty by few (recently, it was from the Direwoods), but she disliked how he crowed it out in a laugh as if it was game. A joke. A polite smile of nervousness consumed her beautiful face before she crept back and away. Into the throngs of people, Y/N got swept into the whirlwind of twirling bodies.

Jostled this way and that by the dancers, she entered a new world of mingling and warmth (despite the cold, clammy skin she touched as she tried to pass by the party-goers.) What was this party even for?

As she passed by a horde of closely entwined dancers, she spotted a group huddled around a masked magician who was tugging out oddities from a floppy hat. Puppets of frightening figures and monster-like creatures bellowed in the uproarious music as the viewers laughed.

It was then she could hear the music for what felt like the first time. Truly heard it. What once was something pleasant began to grow into a loud cacophony. Harpsichordal piano, overly powerful, and discordant. A concertina aerophone harmoniced out in a bumbling sound. There was a violin stringing higher and higher. It felt like the song was spinning out of control. Y/N was shoved forward from the arms of a passing dancing couple as they tossed and turned violently in a tango.

She was jostled toward the masked magician whose deep eyes caught her attention as he tugged out what looked like a princess doll, dressed in the same iridescent mother of pearl cloth her dress was cut from. A chill shot through her heart as the man’s shadowed gaze rose to her and gave her a plump lipped smile.

His mouth moved up and down, but she couldn’t hear his words among the chortles and cackles of the others around her. She was shoved this way and that in the ocean of people. Her eyes darted this way and that away as she tried to maintain her balance only to see him again.

He wasn’t passing by or among the dancers or entertainers. No, he was on the outskirts of the masses. Far from her. Back to a twisting pillar, Hyunjin’s eyes were on her even as multiple scantily-clad women draped themselves over him. Bare-chested against him and whispering something in his ear. Lips sticking to his skin as they did so. He never looked at them. He smiled, eyes hooded as he tilted his head at her, acknowledging her as his mouth quipped a reply to the masked woman on one of his arms. In his hand was a lyre flower – the petal forming an almost organic shape, like it was a reddened heart clasped in between his metal-tipped fingers. He fondled it, tilting his head as her.

A wave of heat filled her cheeks – watching the encounter felt strange. His focus was solely on her, and it felt simmering and ever-present even as he ignored the near-nude women about him. There was a poof of magic beside her. The smell of fire-smoke filled her face. She coughed, waving the smoke aside to. Glancing back at the magician in front of her, she saw that now he held a goblin doll rather than the princess doll. The smoke lingered in the air, musky against the opulent sweet aroma of the ballroom.

The party-goers hooted and crowed out excitements. It grated against her ears. Flinching, she glanced back towards Hyunjin, only to find him gone, and the women busied by whirling about with one another now.

Despair. Devastating and consuming despair. Like someone had taken her favorite stuffed animal as a child away. Unreasonably strong. It overwhelmed her. Widened eyes, her head swiveled this way and that to find him. Just once more. Surely… He had to be… he was just there. He had to be nearby. Maybe he was coming her way and she didn’t see him. He was just there.

It made her skin crawl like maggots were creeping up and down her back. She didn’t know why she needed to find him in this ballroom. She didn’t know why she needed to see him, or what she would say or do. She just felt it in the pit of her stomach that it was important to find him. That she should find him. She had to. She had to.

So, Y/N began to wander once more, dodging dancers and minding her step over flowing, long dresses. Tiny goblins seemed to race around the dancers; sometimes they dove beneath dresses to appear on the other side. One even tugged at her gown, scrambling up the fabric with clawed hands. Chittering in a language she could understand as it stared with large yellowed eyes. She jolted backwards. Back hitting a column painfully, flower petals rained down over her in a floral shower.

The goblin startled at that and jumped away onto the marble floor, chattering with sharp teeth at her before scurrying away. A man beside her, lounging in a nearby chair, smirked at her with fanged teeth before offering a glass of something honeyed and alcoholic smelling. The goblet sloshed this way and that, leaving iridescent puddles on the ground. She ignored him and pushed herself up to continue her search for him.

And there was plenty of encouragement. She. Kept. Seeing. Him. If only for a moment, from the corner of her eye. Like a phantom he’d escape her sight, only to appear at the other side of the room. Smirking, smiling, glancing her way before disappearing again.

He was dressed in a deep-cobalt, crushed-velvet long coat with beadwork that matched hers. Sea-glass pearls that seemed to sparkle like caught stars in the candlelight made up the constellations over his shoulders. The inner fabric of his coat gleamed a mother-of-pearl lining, matching hers. His blonde hair was styled in wind-swept waves as if a lover had run their hands through it in an embrace. His pout of a mouth that smirked sharp as always was visible, but his eyes were shadowed by a masquerade mask now. He held the mask to his face, the grotesque thing held up on a clawed hand-like stick. At some point, the mask was stuck to his face instead as he promenaded in between her sight. And then it was on a stick once more.

She was going in circles around the room, chasing after the disappearing King. Head in circles, she felt woozied for a moment. Delirious and blurred. The music triumphed into a loud crescendo. There was a static hum, a taste of ozone on her tongue. She was pushed and pulled by the ocean of people, wrapped up in a dance alone amongst the throng.

It was beyond frustrating. She wanted to talk to him… dance with him. Tears pricked her eyes as she felt a pang in her chest. A prick of a headache behind her eyes. An uproar in laughter, a screech of the almost-violin-like instrument playing in the large room, and she was approaching what felt like an emotional cliff. Stuffy faced and irritable and insecure and alone – her dress was heavied and her arms itched and her face was hot and the room reeked of rotting magnolias.

“Dearest one,” a voice murmured deeply, finally swooping her up into his arms after the long foreplay of their chase.

Arms that were cool to the touch, velvet soft under her overheated fingers as she sagged faintly into his arms.

In that moment, it felt like someone had dimmed the lights. Like they had quieted the world. Dampened her uneasy emotions. Everything zeroed in on him. His mask was on the tip of his nose still, a goblin grotesque facade. But, she could see his shimmering dark blue eyes and his berry-bitten full lips.

“Hyunjin,” she let out a sigh.

Her hands rose to his cheeks naturally so, almost as if she wasn’t in control of her own body. His eyes fluttered shut, pleasantly smiling as she removed his mask. Its waxy texture felt sticky like clay under her fingertips as she pried it from his skin with a suction-esque sound. Like, it was one with his skin until she pried it away. It fell away from her fingertips easily, shattering to the floor. Her hands returned to his smooth tawny skin. His face was perfect, like a sculpture carved meticulously. His face had a youthful flush at her gentleness, a honeyed-blush bloomed over his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose.

A reverent sigh escaped her as Y/N stroked over his cheek carefully. Her thumb grazed over a mole beneath his eye; she had never seen it before. He was cool to the touch, but it felt less like a corpse’s skin and more as if he had been out in the evening rain. A fantasy of him waiting for her with an umbrella came to mind. Romantic.

He breathed out slow, and smiled fondly. One of his own hands rose to caress her cheek. His metal-clawed fingers would never harm her; she knew that. They simply tickled over her blushed skin. His stroke of her cheek was slow as dripping nectar from a flower’s petal, as if he was savoring her skin against his.

“Y/N,” he said sweetly, dipping his head to press his forehead against hers.

His curled bangs pressed against her skin; his horned crown just grazed the top of her head. He pulled her closer, shifting his arms to cradle her securely. Yes, his arms felt right. This felt oh so right. Like a wonderfully soft dream. Her dizzied head eased in his grasp.

“Shall we dance?” he murmured with his mouth close to her ear.

His breath wasn’t warm; no, it was cool and damp as a cave’s interior. The question felt less like a question as he began to sway them. She nodded just a bit, oblivious to the world around her.

The other fae brushing around her didn’t bother her as they continued their wild waltz. The Goblin King did not join the frenzied dance with her, but instead kept their dance to a gentle swaying. Intimate and slow and just what she had needed.

Her hands grasped his arms, nervously. Fingers pressed against his velveteen coat. Almost as if he’d be lost again. But with a curve of his lip and a flash of his intimate eyes, he pulled her ever-closer.

“I’m here,” he whispered, reassuringly gently. “I’ve got you.”

And it did ease her in to a sense of calm, like the sky full of rolling clouds on a sunny day.

There was just a strange melodic tune between them; the grand hapriscordal cacophony traded for a sort of bass-like sound, strumming out chords in a soothing repeating tempo. A piano-esque metallic instrument chimed out in the gentle lullaby.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N,” he admitted, swirling them in a circle to the rhythm.

His shadowed eyes did not wander down her chest, her bare arms, or her neck. They locked onto her eyes. All of his attention was on her.

“So beautiful,” he sighed, neck bending as he leaned close as if he’d kiss her. His breath was cold as it fanned against her face.

“So strong.” His eyes were reverent.

(His Labyrinth-Runner, his body hummed as he smiled with such wicked loveliness.)

Compliments made the back of her neck tingle and burn pleasantly. Far better than the man who had leered at her earlier in the night. When was that? Oh yes, it felt like she had been wandering and tossed about for hours. Her feet ached, snug in tight, sharp shoes. If she had tugged aside her many layers of organza and lace, she’d see them to be the princess-perfect glass slippers. Ones she had dreamed about growing up.

How unrealistic.

As if reading her mind, Hyunjin’s hands shifted to grasp her waist, firmly lifting her into a promenade of an elevated spin. Her arms draped over his broad shoulders to support herself as she left her shoes behind on the polished floor. A mimicry of a Cinderella caught.

She gasped, hugging close to him. Hyunjin buried himself into the softness of her waist as she clung to him. Slowly, he lowered her, sliding he down until her feet touched the tops of his shoes. He kept her in his clutch, holding her close and off the ground. Bosum pressed into his chest intimately.

“My Princess,” he cooed, swaying this way and that. “Swept of her feet, all mine, hm?”

He grazed his nose over her cheek fondly. 

She felt his chuckle, like a low tumbling rumble of the Earth. There was an echo of laughter from his subjects around them. Like they were in on a joke she wasn’t privy to. She glanced over at the dancers among them; they were watching them intently. It made that eerie feeling bubble up, breaking the ocean of calm that had once washed over her.

His nose nudged hers, gently redirecting her gaze from the carousel of masked figures about them to him once more.

He smiled, fanged teeth sparkling in the light as he rose her up again by her waist and spun her about. Flower petals tumbled around them in a magic whirl, catching on her hair, her sweatied skin, his jacket.

As he continued their waltz, her bare toes rested on his, depending on him to move her this way and that. A spare hand rose to pluck a petal from her hair, presenting it to her; the petal transforming into a blossoming ivory foxglove before her eyes. He indulged in her wonder; in the innocent way, her shiny eyes flickered from the flower to him in surprise.

He tucked the flower behind her ear, delicately.

“How do you feel?” he asked her lowly, swaying soothingly like the way the waves of the sea magnetically roll with the moon.

“I feel –“ she murmured, tilting her head to look around at the world spinning about.

They’d been dancing for how long? Shimmering magic and sweat stuck to her skin. His breath like cool peach and hot honey-mead, engulfed her senses. Eyes flickering shut, overwhelmed by the scent, his touch, the humid heat of the ballroom.

“Wonderful?” he filled in, lips brushing tantalizingly against her blushed cheek.

He could almost taste the scattered remnant of magic across her skin. Nearly taste her iron-blood just at the surface from how ruby red her cheeks had become.

Salt sweat and sweet magic made a delicious potion.

Hyunjin sighed deeply, his sharp tongue dodging out as he pressed a tender deep kiss to the side of her jaw, too low to be considered simply a kiss upon her cheek. He would’ve moaned if it was his dreams.

“Is this not what you dreamt of, dearest?” he cooed in her ear, spinning her about once more. “I can do far more than these balls. I can do anything you want - you just need ask, properly.”

Flashes of burning desires and demanding needs crossed her mind like wildfire. Things she couldn’t explain or begin to put words to. It was feelings as deep as the darkest of oceans and as difficult to place as a tide underneath the waves. It was golden-spun day-dreams and valentine evenings with phantom kisses to her skin haunted her and an irresistible satiation in her bones heavied her as if she were lost in the galaxy, cool and yet burning. Warmed skin pressed against cool, fingers intertwined. Moans into red mouths, fangs clashing against one another. Flickers of feather-soft embraces amongst flowers, amongst sand, amongst the dirt. Painted pastel mornings, a golden sun outside a balcony looking out over the Labyrinth as she laid in the softest of beds. Warm and comfortable and at peace and not-alone.

Never alone, for he was there. Always.

Hyunjin. No…the Goblin King. Her King. Her ruler. Her Everything.

Every molecule of her was for him. Everything for his eyes only… Even now, as they twirled amongst nobility, she knew he allowed it. She was his after all.

His eyes. Gone were the frozen deep blue eyes that struck an odd sense of defiance in her – and instead – his eyes were glimmering like a pale jewel in a wedding band, like the summer ocean at mid-day. As if she was staring at the bluest sky from the field of flowers. Warm. They were a warm azure. No longer cold and cruel. Why would he ever look at her with cruelty?

His cupid-bowed lips did not smirk and sneer and mock but tempted as they spread into a heart-stopping wide smile as he laughed lowly in her fantasy. Gone were the oil-slick metallic velvets and opened shirts and tight leathered pants. Replaced with soft linens of pearlescent fabric that only highlighted his tawny-tan skin which sparkled with the magic coursing in his veins, making him faintly glisten and glow as if he were an angel.

He was. He was her Everything. Angel, savior, king, lover.

It was like seeing a different man. A man that was only for her. A side of him only for her.

Only when she was his would she see this. Behind closed doors he could be this.

Not a King of the Underground, not the Goblin King. Simply the ruler of her heart. King of her. And if he controlled her, didn’t she control him? What a sweet fooled heart she had.

Flickers of a daydream continued. The sky would be lit up by stars, countless glowing star that held their love. Each twinkling as he pointed them to her, whispered words of how they were strung in the sky for her. This one was devotion, that one her love, that one was his desire. The way he’d consume her bite by bite, kiss by kiss, in the darken rich soil they laid in. Fingers interlaced as her eyes rolled back. The way her skin would cool to a cavern temperature for eternity just to remain in his arms. Here, there was no pain. No injured body. Her fangs didn’t hurt any longer. Her eyes would blink up at a cavern sky. And her memory was a faded hazy thing that was full of him, him, him.

Her king, her king, her king.

That’s all she could think as she blink, blink, blinked at him as they swirled into another twirl on the dance floor. Hyunjin smiled soft as he saw her eyes soften into such a cotton candy gentleness.

She’d want for nothing. Laying amongst silks and satins. Feeding upon fae fruit, the nectar dripping down the column of her throat only for him to lick up greedily. No, no, he wasn’t greedy. She was his after all. Anything he wanted he received.

“Dearest one,” he hummed.

His voice pulled her up from the sea of daydreams she was drowning in. He looked different again. His eyes still that soft blue like the moon on a cool night. His clothes were the white linens she had dreamt of him in before in a blink he was back in the blue-velvet suit. A hand raised to tuck large curls behind her ear only to rest on the column of her neck afterwards. “Is this not what you’ve dreamt of?”

Balls of wonder, pretty dresses, nights of ecstasy, happily ever after with a King. Princess sweet and soft. Sheltered and doted upon. Protected in a high tower above a difficult Challenge. A proper fairytale.

Her eyes blurred as she was spun once more, whirled out of her daydreams as her mind tried to catch up to what was around her. Had his clothes just changed? What? How did that happen?

“I – don’t know what to think,” she admitted as she was whirled around again.

A loud cackle by her ear echoed out. . . almost as loud as the toll of a grandfather clock. A clock?

Her head turned as they twirled again. The people around them felt suffocatingly close and the music that had been soothing, once again battered up into a harpsichordical tune, unnerving and discordant. Clashing of melodies soft and loud, bad.

Bad, bad, bad - why did she feel so bad? So unlike herself?

Her arms and legs tingled like television static and she tried to steady herself while she grasped his hand in hers as she returned from the spin outwards.

Her eyes met his again, and he smiled so kindly and calmly like the images that flashed before her eyes. Yet she saw a flash of something knowing in the gleam of his eyes, a laughing cruelty in his eyes from the dungeons. Dungeons, she pondered? What dungeons? There were no dungeons in his arms.

She felt trapped suddenly. Itchy and buzzing. Aching and sweaty. Real. She felt real for a brief moment before she felt his hand smooth over her bodice until it eased up and down her back, soothingly.

But, it didn’t ease her stomach as she was thrown into a dizzy whirl again. They were dancing in a circle, a whirl of a waltz, less calm like before. Her neck gave out, her head lulling back and her eyes flashing to the chandeliers above. The candles were flickering rapid and erratic; there was a breeze kicked up from the ball room’s dancing. The room smelled of peach flowers. Bubbles floated about like perfect baubles of glimmering light.

A hand went to cup the back of her neck, supporting her as Hyunjin pulled her upright. Her bare feet lifted once more. He held her entire weight then and there as he kept her close. Her arms were lose around him.

There was a purse in between his brows, but he still smiled at her. Patient blue eyes. His blonde hair looked darker in this light she wondered. The shadows of his crown making it look almost as if the blonde grew darker at his roots. His horned crown sat upon his perfect head. Not a tiara, a crown. He was a King, not a Prince. He was so handsome she noted. How could a man with such wicked cruelty be so lovely? It was magical. He was magical. Fae magic. . . dreamy fae magic. Her thoughts were scrambled about like a poorly mixed potion.

“You’ve found a way to your dreams, Y/N,” he confided, his voice somehow perfectly clear in her ear despite the brash music.

“Stay in your dream. . . where you are truly free and wholly yourself. The truest form of yourself. You want that, dear one?”

His lips were hypnotizing. Her stomach bubbled like champagne in a flute. Butterflies aching to be released from the cage of her ribs as she saw him lick over the plushness of his mouth.

And she nodded. Like a marionette.

“Don’t abandon it,” he shifted his hold on her. “Don’t leave it behind – if you leave behind your dreams, your wish, you’ll be at the mercy of other people again and again. Forget them. Trust to your dream.” He lamented, divulged, and pled.

Spellbound, the smell of honey-suckle on a hot day burned her nose as she leaned in closer. Hyunjin grinned, none of it warm nor soft suddenly.  

“Trust to me,” he commanded sharply, moving in closer and closer. “Give in to me.”

His breath was akin to a corpse’s chill, and he now reeked of rotted peach blossoms. Of magic and dreams and lies. He did not kiss her yet his lips pressed to her cheek. Only a breath away from her parted lips. They were clammy against her overheated skin.

Her stomach turned as the people around her laughed and chortled. She felt too close to Hyunjin. His skin felt deathly cold and clammy and she was too hot and her dress was too tight and heavy and they were spinning oh too fast. How could they be spinning this much? She shut her eyes tight.

“Believe in me only me,” he whispered, lips trailing over flushed cheeks before stealing a kiss on her lips, startling her eyes open wide. A clock chimed distantly, and she felt her skin burn with his affections. His lips tasted of pomegranates, the dust of a crypt, fizzing candies, and fire-smoke. It muddled her senses as he kept her close, breathing her in. His kiss was insistent as he indulged in her.

“Only I can be your dream-maker.” He pulled away just enough for the words to be shared between their lips. “You need me.”

Her eyes fluttered, and he hummed lowly in his chest, a melody that was distant and familiar. Only I can be your dream-maker whirled in her head like the dancers’ promenade.

That wasn’t true.

A clock tolled again. A clock. . . her eyes fluttered open – when had they shut again? - as she felt hands that were scaly and furry and goblinesque trail over her arms and her bared back. She glanced aside when she felt claws, and saw a goblin mask so large and leathery leering into her gaze. Women chortled and men guffawed at her. She felt small, as small as those goblins she had seen running about.

Hyunjin tugged her close, cheek pressed against crushed blue velvet. The smell of rotten flowers on a hot day overwhelmed her, sickening her. The curve of a smile, triumphant pressed into her hair. She could see a clock distantly – golden and grand with its curling numbers - as another toll cracked in her head.

The burn of laughter around her, only Hyunjin could protect her from here. Why were they laughing? What was the clock for? Why did Hyunjin’s grasp hurt? He needed to protect her; she couldn’t do anything. Helpless. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

You say that so often.

Where had she heard that before?

The dungeon. The dungeons… Wait, wasn’t she doing something? Why was she here? Why. . . ?

“Stop,” she whispered out; the words feeling like peanut butter was stuck in her throat.

The Goblin King’s eyes widened as she writhed in his grasped. Her hands pushed him away and, with weakened arms, he let her. Her feet tumbled to the floor, sliding against polished tile; her skirt pouring out across the floor as she fell. A startle in the crowd. Her breath gasped; the corset was so tight - how had she not noticed? Glancing up, the attendees were staring down at her with matching blue eyes. Mockery, laughter, anger. Copies of the eyes she knew so well. She heaved herself up at once. She had to get out of here. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Her large dress rammed into the other dancers as she pushed at the crowd. There were shrieks and wails as the clock tolled out another hour. Then another.

A huff left her as she looked around the ballroom. She hadn’t been here before. No - how’d she get here? She can’t even remember getting here in the first place. How did she end up here?

Her eyes met Hyunjin’s with a heat. Cruelty in her eyes, a betrayal of sorts. He simply looked on at her, tall and still among the jostling, jeering crowds. Furred and clawed hands reached out to tug and pull at her, masked faces with no consequences to their actions. She pushed away a woman who draped herself against her back, making her sag against their weight.

“Please, my Lady,” she had pleaded as she shoved with her might.

My Lady. . . as if she belonged here. She didn’t. She wouldn’t.

She would be a spellbound pet to the King. A fae’s human plaything. That wasn’t reality. It wasn’t a reality that would be good. Despite all its wonderousness, all she could remember was the burning emptiness. The shell of herself was all that woman was.

She had something to finish… she didn’t know what. But she couldn’t be here. It wasn’t here. C’mon, Y/N, remember. Grasping the heavy dress-skirts (heavier now, as if they were soaked in rain-water, she noted), she turned and ran.

Where was the stairwell? Where was the exit? Where even was the ballroom? Was she in the Castle? Stolen away to the prize without knowing. No. . . no. . . Hyunjin wouldn’t do that. That’s too close. Too close to her winning that he wouldn’t risk it. He was clever. He was goddamn clever. A burning feeling in her chest was difficult to decipher – was it hatred or admiration? Y/N was confused. She pushed past party-goers with little grace, huffing out in pain as they collided with her.

She couldn’t find any way out. She was met with endless mirrored walls, the shimmering reflection of a debauched dream staring back at her. Like the bubbles around her. A bubble. This place felt like a bubble that could pop.

With a grit of her teeth, she let go of her dress’ skirts in a shimmering flutter of fabric and grabbed a resting chair from nearby. Slamming it into the mirror, there was a tremble beneath her icy bared feet. Frightened and uneasy, she shut her eyes as she slammed the chair into the membrane of the pearlescent mirrored bubble again. And again. And again. Until the world shook and shattered in a whirlwind of screams and yells.

And she was falling - down, down with the world.

-

The Labyrinth-Runner’s eyes flashed open. She was no longer in the forest-flowers nor in a ballroom of debauchery, but lying still in an unknown darkened space. A starry sort of light gleamed high above her. Haloed in the light, she looked down to see she was in her own battered clothes again. In her hand was the fae fruit she had bitten into. The flesh was rotten-brown, the juices sticky in between her fingers, and the smell akin to rotten fruit in the humid sun. A maggot crawled from the decaying pit towards her palm. With a yell, she threw it to the side. A wave of nausea hit her.

Vomiting to the side, she huffed and panted before fainting backwards into a familiar bed.

-

Hyunjin’s own eyes flashed open as the fae fruit’s dream was shattered. He could still taste the magic on his tongue mingling with the iron-salt of her lips. He licked his plump rose-petaled lips with his tongue, savoring the taste.

She was so sweet.

She was strong.

She was a good challenge.

Breaking free from a spell was difficult and yet she had. She had manipulated the world around to remind her of her challenge and, with that, Hyunjin admired her. Yes, a part of him even preened that he would have such a clever human soon. A Changeling of his own with devotion only for him.

Her eyes, her eyes, oh, her eyes. He had seen paradise, a promise of her love and her dreams that he could fulfill. Her eyes had shined so sweetly. Her lips were petal roses, curling so gentle into a smile that he wanted all to himself. She was a wonder. How could a human be so intoxicating? He’d make her his. A puppet princess who only cared for him. No betrayals. No others to keep her attention. She’d be all for him. She was different than the others. His Runner was tempting and clever and all the things fae loved.

She had made it far, so much further than any Runner he had seen, but he’ll up the ante. She’ll see his strength. Marvel at his powers! She’d willingly give in once she sees!

He stood from his throne with his trembling hands pushing back raven hair. His breathing was heavied.

He can’t lose.

He walked out the door of the mystical throne room, locking it behind iron-lock and key. He needed his Grimorie. Where had he put it? Magic danced over his fingertips, anxious hands tip-tapping against his palms. His eyes looked wild as he searched among drunk goblins and rambunctious subjects.

He can’t lose.

He would not lose to her. He wouldn’t fall to his Runner. He must win this game.  

He wanted her to be his forever.

For Hyunjin had hopelessly fallen under her spell.

[cryptgrrrl1313]

Cryptgrrrrl’s Witchy Almanac: May 2025 Edition

Welcome to the May 2025 installment of the Witchy Almanac a month steeped in blooming life, ancient fire festivals, and liminal enchantments. As spring reaches its vibrant crescendo, this guide offers a look at the lunar calendar, sacred correspondences, and seasonal rituals to help align your spiritual practice with the rhythms of the natural world.

Lunar Phases – May 2025 Overview

New Moon – May 26

Ideal for setting intentions, initiating new projects, and internal reflection.

First Quarter – May 4

A time of action, growth, and building momentum.

Full Moon (Flower Moon) – May 12

Traditionally associated with fertility, faery lore, and the flourishing of nature.

Last Quarter – May 20

Encourages release, evaluation, and completion of cycles.

Seasonal Festival: Beltane – May 1

Beltane, also known as May Day or Cétshamhain, marks the midpoint between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice. This ancient Gaelic festival honors fertility, vitality, and the sacred union of earth and sky. Celebrated historically with bonfires, floral offerings, and maypole dances, Beltane signifies a liminal period where the veil between the human world and the realm of nature spirits is believed to thin.

Element: Fire

Symbols: Maypoles, flower crowns, eggs, bonfires, and phallic wands

Deities: Aphrodite, Cernunnos, Pan, Flora, Freya, Eostre

Crystals: Rose quartz, emerald, lapis lazuli, sapphire

Plants & Herbs: Mugwort, rosemary, meadowsweet, St. John’s Wort, mint, ivy

Suggested Ritual Activities:

Dance around a maypole or bonfire to embody the spirit of spring

Create floral crowns or garlands

Prepare a seasonal meal using honey, herbs, and fresh fruits

Leave respectful offerings for nature spirits or at sacred outdoor spaces

Craft a wish jar or record seasonal intentions in a journal

Engage in spellwork related to love, protection, and abundance

The Flower Moon – Full Moon on May 12

Known by many names—Budding Moon, Planting Moon, Faery Moon, Snake Moon—this full moon is widely regarded as a time of fertile expansion and enchantment. Across cultures, it heralds the height of spring and encourages spells related to growth and connection.

Element: Fire

Zodiac Influence: Taurus and Gemini—earthy grounding meets intellectual curiosity

Nature Spirits: Elves, faeries, and other liminal beings associated with wild places

Deities: Artemis, Flora, Venus, Kali, Pan, Aphrodite, Cernunnos

Animal Correspondences: Cats, lynxes, leopards

Birds: Swallows, swans, doves

Herbs: Cinnamon, mint, mugwort, thyme

Stones: Emerald, carnelian, rose quartz, ruby, malachite

Flowers: Foxglove, rose, lily of the valley, yarrow

Colors: Green, pink, yellow, red, orange

Scents: Rose and sandalwood

Magical Intentions: Fertility, enchantment, prosperity, intuition, love, divination

Additional Observance: Rosalia – May 23

Rosalia, an ancient Roman festival of roses, was traditionally celebrated as a time of floral offerings to honor the spirits of the dead. Often associated with military remembrance and ancestral veneration, it presents a poetic opportunity to connect with memory, grief, and renewal. Consider adorning your altar with red and violet flowers or offering roses to those who came before.

May is a month of sensual blooming, sacred fire, and spirit-filled air. Whether you mark the days through quiet ritual or communal celebration, let this season guide you toward growth, connection, and intentional magic. Offer a flower to the wild, a flame to the sky, and a whisper to the wind.

[vintagerpg]

Elves (1983) is like Dwarves (1982), but for elves. Shocking, I know.

I was predisposed to not like this book because it was the same writers who did Dragons of Weng T’sen. And also because it is a book about elves, and I don’t particularly care for elves. At least with dwarves, because they are essentially Scottish, I can picture them playing bagpipes, which is endlessly amusing. Elves are too uptight to be amusing. This characterization of elves does seem to try to tie them to European faerie folklore in some ways, but nothing in flipping through the book really hooked me enough to push past my inherent disinterest in elves to find out more.

There are six different brands of elves: High (not in the good way), Ice, Wood, Grey, Demi- and Dark. They live in proximity, in a region that is not part of the continent introduced in Dark Folk, but I am holding out hope that we’ll eventually see them all combined [spoiler: I’ll be waiting forever]. Each brand of elf has a different adventure, which is pegged to retrieving parts of an artifact in order to banish the dark god of the dark elves back to his dark home. I still like the six societies = six adventures, but I am not so into the convenient travelogue/scavenger hunt.

I’m mostly not interested in this book because it doesn’t really offer anything I couldn’t come up with on my own. I like the basic idea of this series, and I get that the first books were going after the low-hanging fruit, but a book of elf lore needs to be super compelling (like, I would read a sourcebook like this about the Swordfish Island elves!) or else I am just going to use the standard D&D elves, because I don’t care enough about elves to bother, you know? Same honestly goes for Dwarves and Dark Folk, even if I give them more of a pass for, you know, not being about elves.

[katsigian]

4, 14, 17, and 24 for éimhín pls!

Ahh, my sweet fae gardener boy ☺️ thank you Jasper! 💛

[ just to quickly clarify how I'm going about fae lore in my worldbuilding, fae is the overarching term for beings such as elves, faeries, pixies, etc. Éimhín is closer related to elves, and since he originates from Iceland, he would technically be a ljósálfar. While there are fae courts, they are not cleanly divided into two and are more expansive than just seelie/unseelie. ]

4. how crafty/resourceful are they?

Éimhín (aye-veen) can be surprisingly crafty when the need arises. I say surprisingly because he does appear on the surface to be of the vain primadonna variety due to his looks, but he doesn't mind getting his hands dirty and has a strong work ethic. He spends the vast majority of time around his gardens, which are expansive, and needs to do a lot of upkeep that sometimes require him to roll his sleeves up and get creative with the tools he has on hand.

14. are they any good with numbers?

Oof that's one of his weakpoints 😭 he didn't attend normal, human schools and when he began living in the human world, math and other logical ventures weren't of any interest to him. Obviously he does know how to do math and can do most basic things, but if you ask him to do algebra he'll expertly avoid it.

17. how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

Éimhín worked in the gardens and fields most summers. Willingly, and often with great joy. He's been working with plants and flowers for as long as he remembers and his magic is much stronger when he's in the presence of wilderness thanks to his upbringing. There were also long stretches of time, longer than summers, where Éimhín didn't return home at all and chose to stay in the wild with his relatives who tended to their lands. His free time was usually spent reading about flowers/fruits/plants or practicing his magic.

24. do they have any creative hobbies? (art, writing, music, etc)

Éimhín does enjoy a quiet moment of cross-stitching or embroidery. Another thing he picked up from his many years out in the wilds was sewing - he's well practiced in repairing clothing and he expanded upon that skill into embroidery. Much of his clothing is decorated with embroidery that he has done himself. The smocks/pinafores/aprons he wears are covered in designs that he's made himself, usually consisting of flowers and leaves.

[tigris-types]

Yesterday, @starbiology posted that in cannon Neopets lore, Dr. Sloth arrived to Neopia and started creating experimental lifeforms on the empty planet. These lifeforms started to mutate into the Neopets we know today after magic was introduced, and then faeries were later discovered. Faeries are seen as immortal being and on the Neopian Times, Queen Fyora is often used as a stand-in for god. This means that our timeline is Dr. Sloth experiments - magic arrives - Neopets appear - deities/faeries appear.

I think it's safe to say that's deities are created by belief, and in the world of Neopia, "believing" can affect the weather and magic. So Neopets believing in a persona that controlled a force created the faeries, but where did magic originally come from? For that, we look to the stars.

Aishas are a unique neopet as they are the only one that can be painted alien. In their lore, the alien color was actually the original aisha, but they lost the additional ears when they adapted to life on Neopia. Aishas also have phychic abilities and a tie to the mystic arts; they are magical beings.

I propose that alien aishas brought magic to Neopia and created the faeries. Here's how I imagine it happening:

Alien aishas are explorers of the galaxy who come from a matriarchal society. They pray to their patron of stars and safe space travel Mira to guide them on their journey. They have discovered a planet that can sustain life just on the edges of their explorable range. The aishas send a small crew to check it out, but unbeknownst to them, it's under the watch and protection of Dr.Sloth.

He doesn't want anyone messing with his planet wide experiment! He found the planet first! It's his! So he shoots down the incoming ship. The aishas are able to make it to their escape pods and land on Neopia.

But how could this have happened? Were they too far away from their home planet for Mira to protect them? If they were truly out of range of the deity of space travel, could none of their gods help them now? Did they need to pray to new ones? No! That's blasphemy! Accidents happen, they should send out a rescue signal and wait.

So they do. But they find the planet full of hostile lifeforms, monsters of every shape, size, and color! And every time a rescue party gets near to the planet, it gets shot down in a similar manner. They assume it's something in the atmosphere that is breaking up their ships, and they loose faith in their old gods. Dr. Sloth meanwhile leaves his moon base to go investigate where all these ships are coming from as Mira looses her power as the Neopian aishas loose faith in her.

The colony of aishas are trying so hard to survive the monsters. They don't know the deities of the world they are now inhabiting, but they know how to be respectful to them.

They pray to the Mother of Protection so they can fight the monsters at their doors, and a battle faerie comes to aide them.

They pray to the Mother of Survival when their rations and supplies run out, and so a faerie with a cooking pot appears to teach them what can be combined to create something greater than its parts.

They pray to the Mother of Medicine in the winter when they start to fall ill from the cold. So a faerie of healing and snow appears to help them, and disappears when it's spring.

The faerie of survival tells them about neggs, and when they find a fruit that contains all their nutitrial needs, they praise the Mother of Neggs, and a faerie appears to tend to the negg bushes so the aishas will always have something to eat.

And although they have lost faith in their old gods, some rituals still carry over. Losing a tooth is still considered a great milestone that must be honored. The Mother of Milestone is manifested as the tooth faerie that gives money in exchange for teeth, but these aren't the nerkmids that they use as money. Could their be other civilizations on this planet?

As the aishas start to explore the planet to find other civilizations, they take their beliefs with them. They thank Mother Earth for soft grasses, shady trees, and protective caves. They thank Mother River for fresh water and Mother Ocean for a safe seafaring journey, and they thank both for the bounty of fish. They thank Mother Air for fresh breezes and to keep them upwind from the monsters. They thank Mother Fire for keeping the monsters away, and Mother Light for keeping their spirits bright.

But mothers can also be mean and nasty, and mothers can be cruel. They attribute the monsters and their hardships to Mother Decay, a spectral shadowy faerie that lives in our nightmares and can corrupt our minds until we become the monsters attacking our friends.

The aishas know they need protection from Mother Decay when they go to sleep. They need a force in the darkness to help keep them safe from the nightmares when no other mother can reach them, so they pray to Mother Dark for sweet dreams and sanity. Mother Dark may not always be nice, but she will do what no other mother can and make it so we can brave the night.

As the aishas expands, and new faeries start to appear in their settlements, things been a little hectic. No new civilizations have been found yet, and while their own has been more established, these faeries cause just as much help as harm. Magic is a new force that is altering the landscape, but they need it to make sense! Some have even claimed to find a land made out of jelly for faeries sake!

So the leaders pray to the Mother of Order and the Mother of Faeries. "Please" they say, "Please control your children so we may have order in our lives again" and Mother Faerie appears. It manifests as the Queen of all faeries and all must listen to her. Queen Faerie, no, Queen Fyora, whisks the most unruly faeries away to Faerieland so the Aishas can have peace again.

But with the Mother of Order and Civilization making an appearance, civilization is also brought to the monsters that have plagued Neopia. Everywhere the floating city goes, the monsters turn into the Neopets we know today. They start worshipping the faeries too, and the faeries' power grows. The world turns.

Monsters still exist, as the faeries can't solve every problem, but the aishas have neighbors they can trade with now. Some of the monsters can even be tamed and trained for pets or for jobs!

As Neopian society grows and thoughts and feelings change, new faeries take on the mantles of older ones. Faeries become a species of their own and can form relationships, although no one really knows how new faeries are created. They believe they have always been there, and their belief makes it so. Queen Fyora is thought of as the oldest faerie, and their belief makes that true as well. (Eventhough she is technically the youngest of the ancient faeries, but she is the only ancient one who remains in modern Neopia) (Besides Mira and maybe Kari, but idk)

Other notable faeries and how they came to be:

Library Faerie - Mother of Knowledge

Soup Faerie - Mother of Kindness - the current light faerie took over from a faerie with unquie wings that wasn't meeting the community's needs

Bree - Mother of Quests (when society became more modern, neopets got bored and prayed to be given more involved quests than just simple fetch quests, so Bree spawned and created Key Quest)

Kaia - she spawned as a kid, so idk what she would represent. A daughter of Culture perhaps? She can see into the future, so maybe she is the deity of Time who is in training?

Honestly, Kaia confuses me. But I hoped this made sense of how the faeries came to be! I also went for the mother angle to explain why all of them are female. Please let me know what you all think of this!

Oh yeah - faeries can die if no one believes in them, but if their domain is still needed, then a new faerie takes up that same domain. As a side note, that might be why Kari has an apprentice now. Neggs aren't as obtainable as they used to be and are pretty expensive, but they are still useful. Neopians opinions of Neggs are changing, so there is another faerie to represent the current generation of Neopians' thoughts on Neggs.

Same thing with Delina. Modern Neopians know that dark faeries aren't automatically evil, but they don't know what they can help with that isn't evil magic, so a good crafty dark faerie spawned. All dark faeries are crafty, but Delina is DIY crafty instead of magic crafty.

Thank you for reading! I know this was long but it was fun to write, and please excuse any errors as this was written on my phone. Also, please let me know your thoughts on this! If you agree/disagree or if their is some ancient lore that needs to be incorporated in this!

[sorceresssundries]

The Faerie Tale of Demelza Starsong

Chapter 2 of 2 - Chapter 1 here

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Abusive relationship, manipulation, domestic violence.

A/N - Thank you for those who left comments and kindness on the first half of this story, and for letting me indulge in creating lore for Demelza.

This was just meant to be a brief backstory, but my heart fell into it and I got carried away.

It was unusual for Jorge to arrive after her, but Demelza was patient. So certain was she of the young soldier’s devotion that she never once doubted he would come. She sat on a rock above a shallow pool, dipping her toes into the water and watching the ripples fan out, sending starlit patterns dancing across the mirrored surface.

As she waited for his final goodbye, a rustle in the underbrush caught her attention. She turned, expecting to see him approach with that familiar, bashful smile, but what emerged from the trees was not the boy she had come to know. The flush of youth had gone, and his once-kind eyes now glowed with a wild intensity she had not seen before. His unpracticed hand gripped his sword, and for the first time, he truly looked like a soldier.

"Demelza." The soft fruit of her name on his lips sounded suddenly like poison.

She had once imagined him speaking her name around campfires, sharing stories with his fellow soldiers as though it were a precious incantation. Now it was a hollow, broken curse spat from spiteful lips. He was walking towards her too quickly, too forcefully.

“What’s happened? Why are you—”

Her words were cut off as he lunged at her, the blade flashing in the dim light. Demelza dodged, but he was relentless, swinging wildly, his face twisted with betrayal and pain.

“You toyed with me!” he shouted, slashing again. “You led me along!”

"I never meant—!" she gasped, barely dodging another strike. "Please! You’re not yourself!"

But Jorge heard none of it. His heart was enthralled, leaving no room for reason, only spell-stoked rage.

Demelza stumbled, her back hitting the trunk of a tree as Jorge closed in on her. She had no time to react as he raised the sword high above his head, ready to strike.

And then, it was over.

A blinding light erupted in the clearing, and Jorge was thrown backward by an invisible force. He landed hard on the forest floor, the sword clattering from his grasp. Demelza blinked in shock, her heart pounding as Panos appeared, filling the space with an ethereal glow. He stood over the broken boy, his eyes blazing with wrath.

Before she could speak, Panos raised his hand, and the air around them hissed. Jorge gasped, his body convulsing, as threads of magic tightened and squeezed the short life from him.

"Panos, wait!" Demelza cried, stepping forward, but Panos was unmoved.

"He wants you dead," Panos said softly, glancing at her with a look of concern, before turning back to the dazed boy on the ground.

Jorge’s eyes went wide with terror. With a swift flick of Panos’ wrist, it was over. There was a sickening crack of bone, of life ending, and he was still.

The stars Jorge had once followed into the forest flickered sadly in his glazed, unseeing eyes.

"What have you done?" she whispered, her eyes darting between Panos and the lifeless body. Tears streamed down her face.

Panos stepped toward her, his expression gentle as he pulled her into his arms. "He was consumed by jealousy," he whispered into her hair. "I saw him on his way to you, cursing your name and clutching his sword. I had to protect you.”

Demelza trembled in his embrace, her heart heavy with grief for the boy she had not loved. "He…he wasn’t always like that," she murmured, pressing her face against his chest, tears blurring her vision.

"I will always protect you," Panos whispered soothingly, stroking her hair.

Out of desperation, out of love, and out of fear of being left alone, Demelza bound herself to Panos in the most ancient, irreversible of ways. Her heart was blinded by devotion, unable to grasp the weight of what she was offering or the true cost of what she was giving away. The promise of belonging, of being loved eternally, eclipsed everything else.

They sat beneath the oldest tree in the forest, a titan whose gnarled roots twisted deep into the earth, some said brushing the edges of the underworld. Around them, Panos had conjured a circle of white blooms, gleaming in the starlight. A gentle breeze stirred the air, sending leaves swirling like nature’s own confetti, as though the forest itself rejoiced in their union. If she closed her eyes, the happy babble of the stream slipping over stones made it sound like their love was being witnessed by a joyful congregation of thousands.

Demelza’s heart pounded, her chest tight. Panos stood before her, his eyes holding every promise she had ever longed for.

She told herself he would be bound as tightly to her as she was to him. She would never be unwanted, never face the long centuries alone. The creeping fear that her beauty might one day fade, turning his gaze elsewhere, would vanish. He had said he would protect her, always. And if she gave him her heart and soul, he would share with her the ancient magic of the Fae—so that she, too, would never wither, never fade. She would be beauty eternal, and he would love her until the stars burned out.

Her trembling hands reached for the blade Panos offered, pressing it into her palm. As her blood welled up, she let it drip onto the earth at her feet, staining the petals of the white flowers red. The scent of iron mingled with their heady perfume, clogging her nose and throat, and she had to fight not to retch.

She didn’t see the shadows that flickered in her lover’s eyes, nor the faint trace of triumph in his smile. She only saw the future she wanted so desperately to believe in.

She swallowed her doubt and spoke the words he had taught her, the ancient Sylvan phrases she did not fully understand, rolling off her tongue in delicate, musical tones. They sounded so light—how could they ever do her harm?

She repeated the words over and over until their sweetness tasted like rot, and the forest itself recoiled.

Demelza’s voice wavered, but she pressed on, repeating the words, her blood still dripping steadily onto the earth. The white flowers around them began to wither, their edges curling as though touched by unseen blight. The breeze turned cold, biting at her skin, and though the wind and water still sang in the distance, the sound was no longer joyful. It was a dirge, a low and mournful wail that echoed in the hollow spaces of her heart.

With one final word, the ritual was complete. Panos stepped forward, his eyes burning with a too-bright, too-wild light, and took her bleeding hand in his. His touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly over the cut, smearing blood across her skin. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, sealing the pact.

As he drew back, a slight smile tugged at his lips. His fingers lingered around her hand, and in one smooth motion, he made a twisting gesture. Metal threads appeared, thin tendrils unfurling from his fingers and curling around hers, winding together to form a delicate ring. Though forged of silver, the ring was shaped like twisting vines, with tiny, dark buds resting along its surface, never fully blooming, their inky blackness absorbing all light.

“Now,” he whispered, his voice silk and shadow, “we are bound.”

They were happy for a while. Content.

Demelza took to magic as though born to it, as if it had always simmered, patient and warm in her wild blood, waiting for the moment to churn and swell into witchery.

But it was not hers.

Every spell, every incantation she murmured, felt like his heat pressing against her, a brand she could feel but not see. Yet, she told herself, this must be love—this presence she could always feel, this bond so powerful it filled her whole being. She was strong, adored, and his. She was powerful and loved. She was happy. What else could there be?

But a wild soul is not easily broken, and Demelza soon began to miss her family. 

She took to drifting along the edges of her old village like a ghost, lingering in the shadows and watching her former life unfold without her. Concealed by magic, she observed as the townspeople went about their lives. Her heart ached to be part of it again, to feel that warmth and belonging. But she was something else now, no longer quite of their world. Their ordinary joys felt like a dream she could no longer touch. Panos had forbidden it.

Her parents, whom she missed most often, clung to hope at first. Every evening, her father would light torches by her favourite tree, the flame flickering like a fragile prayer. She felt his silent plea in the glow. He choked out prayers to Mielikki, and then to other gods, to anyone who might listen. But no one ever answered.

As time passed, the torches were lit less frequently. The ritual softened, then stopped, leaving her tree in shadow, the wicks of long-forgotten candles hardened, their wax dulled.

Life went on without her.

Her parents welcomed more children, babes with bright eyes and laughter like silver bells. Demelza would watch from high in the sentinel trees, tracing her siblings' small, delicate features, the way they clung to her mother, the tenderness in her father's gaze. They looked so much like her, and yet, not at all.

The villagers whispered about her occasionally—of her beauty, of the wild spirit that had lured her into the forest, claiming she had been taken by the fae. She became a cautionary tale, a restless shadow, a story told to scare wandering children back to their beds.

Even though watching them forget her broke her heart, she often returned. She used her borrowed magic to keep them safe. She summoned water to nourish their crops, healed the sick as they slept, invisible and silent, and whenever dangerous outsiders approached, she would charm, beguile, and direct them away from her village. Once the reckless girl desperate to leave, she became the wistful guardian who would always return.

Panos knew where she went, knew what she did, and his jealousy turned him from spring into burning summer.

His fury set him alight. His skin gleamed like copper under flame, every breath expelling smoky wisps that coiled and dissipated, filling the night with the scent of charred earth and smoldering leaves. His footprints left scorched earth in his wake as he paced, waiting for her to come back to him. He was bigger, broader, his voice rougher and temper shorter.

“You’ve returned,” he said one evening when she appeared back at their home.

Demelza smiled, hoping to ease him. She moved closer, reaching for his hand, but he didn’t offer it in return.

“Of course. I always come home,” she murmured softly.

“Are you not happy with me? With everything I have given you? With my heart and my magic in your hands?”

He didn’t wait for her answer.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned vines that snaked around her ankles and up her calves, winding around her waist until she could barely breathe. She felt the thorns prick her skin, a thousand tiny stings that kept her rooted, held. The more she struggled, the more the vines clung to her, their hold inescapable. She could feel her power there, just beyond her reach, but it was stifled, her connection to it severed by Panos’ control.

“I can take just as easily as I give,” he snapped.

“My love, please,” she whispered, desperation threading through her voice. “I chose you—I’m here, aren’t I? I came back to you.”

“Part of your heart is still with them, and so you are breaking the vows you made.”

“They are my family,” she said, her voice choking. “I only want to watch over them… to see they are safe. They don’t even know I’m there.”

She gasped, panic rising. The vines squeezed tighter, pressing against her ribs, restricting her breaths to shallow, painful rattles. “You’re hurting me,” she said, voice soft and pleading, her hand reaching out to him despite her helplessness.

“You hurt me first,” he whispered. “You said you’d love me completely. And yet you offer me half measures while you steal glances at a world you’ve left behind.” He traced his fingertips along the line of her jaw, and their blistering touch scorched her delicate, mortal skin.

“You made me an oath; you swore to me in the language of the fae that your heart and soul are mine.” He sighed, heavy and arid. “You swore it until death, love.”

Her tears hissed and spat as they fell upon his burning fingers, hot as dry leaves under glass. She was kindling, no more than delicate moth wings under a burning sun.

“I am yours!” she screamed, as flames licked her. “I promise.”

And the pain left as quickly as it came. There were no marks, no burns; the vines had retreated back to the earth. As the tears dried from her golden eyes and she cast her gaze back to her Eladrin, he was gone.

The next time she saw him, he had changed once more. No longer summer nor spring, but winter.

As she awoke alone in the glade they called home, Panos approached her slowly, his steps casting frost along the earth in delicate, intricate patterns that stretched out like brittle fingers. His skin was the pallor of frozen marble, and his hair white, falling around his face like snow blown down from mountaintops. His eyes, no longer bright or heated, had dulled to the color of stormy skies. Every movement was slow, hesitant, mournful. He was smaller, more frail than she had ever seen him. 

“Demelza,” he whispered, barely audible, soft as a draft of chilled air. He stopped a few paces before her, his head bowed, his pale eyes shining with a carefully crafted remorse. His breath clouded between them, swirling around her before fading away. He extended a trembling hand, but it lingered just short of her skin, as though he feared she might shatter beneath his touch.

He wept before her, and his tears froze the ground beneath him. His sobs silenced the birdsong. No longer the dawn of spring, he had become the first frost that kills the final blooms of autumn.

“Forgive me, please.”

Her eyes were wide, guarded. She searched his face for warmth, for sincerity, but all she found was ice.

“You terrified me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You hurt me.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But, Demelza, understand—I was only afraid of losing you.”

Her heart had always been a soft, gentle thing, quick to love and even quicker to forgive, and so she believed him. She wanted to believe him—wanted to find comfort in his arms once more, to lose herself in the warmth of the promises he offered. But her hope was wasted. Panos became a creature of extremes, a relentless storm of summer and winter with no in-between. His passion blazed hot, leaving marks on her skin that felt like embers scorching her, a heat that burned until it twisted into something darker, more agonising. And when his passion cooled, it was the freezing bite of his silences and accusations that left her spirit brittle and trembling.

The fire and ice of him began to blur, each as painful as the other, each melting into a constant ache. The only way she could survive his extremes was to become numb herself, bracing against the relentless seasons he imposed upon her. She became someone she barely recognized, surrendering pieces of herself just to endure him.

Her days slipped into a rhythm of dread and loneliness. She came to dread the sound of his footsteps signalling his return, yet felt a hollow ache when he was gone. Her once-soft heart had grown hard, her wild soul trapped in a cage of her own making. She no longer dreamed of love or freedom; she could only think of anything other than this.

Panos haunted her every thought. Even when he was absent, she felt him, like the faintest trace of smoke from a fire long smouldered. In the hush of dawn, she sensed his shadow in the trees, his scent of wild earth and storm lingering in the air long after he had gone. When the winds shifted through the forest, it felt as if his voice moved with them, sighing her name in the leaves. There were times she’d wake from fitful sleep, her heart racing, convinced she’d felt his touch, only to find herself alone in the dark, his presence a shiver in her bones.

One autumn morning, as frost crackled on the leaves, she made her decision. She would leave the forest. The thought came from nowhere, a scrap of bravery she dredged up from ruins and clung to with weary hands. It had to be now. She couldn’t put the idea back down, or she would risk losing the will to find it again.

It was time for courage. She would flee to the edges of the wildwood, as far as her magic could carry her.

And then, she would run.

As dawn broke, she steeled herself, letting the first light fill her with the valour she’d thought long lost. She waited until she was certain he was far away, deep within the heart of the Feywild where he spent his days tending to the realms unseen. She slipped out from her hiding place, casting wards over herself to cloak her presence.

The trees around her seemed to hold their breath, and her pulse thundered with the thrill of freedom. She knew each path, each curve of the forest; her feet moved swiftly and silently over mossy roots and shadowed trails. As the edge of the forest neared, she felt a surge of hope. She could almost taste the open air, the wide expanse of the world beyond.

But then, from the skies, there came a low, thunderous hum—a vibration so deep it felt as though the earth itself shivered beneath her feet. She looked up and froze.

A vast, dark shape moved overhead, casting a shadow across the forest. The beast, if it could be called such a thing, looked like nothing she had ever seen. It resembled a ship, otherworldly and alive, its long tentacles stretching down to brush over the tops of the trees, bending them beneath its weight. She could feel its awareness like a pulse in the air, the vastness of its mind brushing against hers, ancient and curious, searching. She shrank back, clutching her hands to her chest, whispering the words of cloaking spells over and over, hoping it would pass. That she would be safe.

She was not.

[lomappreciationblog]

Now for the characters with some manner of greenery, foliage, or growth - here are cast for plants/plant-themed characters!

Monique and Elle are pulling double duty as they are also in the birds group. I'm not sure if this was the intention, but at least one description for sirens in Greek mythology says they lived on "flowery" islands, which might be the reason why Monique and Elle have flower-themed wings to begin with. The art book states that as long as sirens sing their wings will bloom with flowers, and will wither if they stop, which is mentioned in a few lines in the game - so in LOM's Fa'Diel, the flowers seem to be a biological component of sirens. It is a very creative and romantic feature, isn't it, having flower wings?

As for our other plant people - there's a lot of variety in designs again.

Li'l Cactus, Treant and Sproutlings are of the talking plants variety, though Li'l Cactus and the Sproutlings also display the walking ability. At least one Sproutling in The Flame of Hope expresses dismay on having their leaves torn, and feeling extremely uncomfortable when a Popo bug got under their leaves, so it's safe to assume they don't appreciate having their leaves messed with.

Olbohn is a bizarre case since he's one of those characters who don't looking a thing like anyone else and no one brings it up. The History tome only mentions him once, saying he was a celebrated swordsman who defeated Aion, the leader of the Faeries who had become Lord of the Underworld, and so took the position himself. It's possible he's a mature Onion Warrior given his head shape, but it's never really explained.

Duelle is also a unique character, being the only Onion Warrior in the game. The anime seems to indicate that the onion bit isn't part of his anatomy, there are a few frames that shows he has a face underneath it, and even reveals his gray eyes.

Our favorite fortuneteller, Meimei, actually had a very different design, looking more like a fairy composed of fruits and appearing like an old woman. The art book also mentions this original design was a Green Bockle, and if you saw my previous post on Sproutlings, that's the same term used for them in development - so once upon a time, Meimei and the Sproutlings were in one race! But in game, this has been discarded, and she's simply another kooky but helpful NPC.

Matilda is a case where the art book reveals a sizable amount of lore for her, revealing she's a special race called " people of the vine crown," and her hair taking on ivy-like forms is a manifestation of her spiritual power. But it's unclear if it's still in the game, at least in the English version, since we're never really told Matilda is anything other than human, though one gifted with spiritual power. You could make a case that it's still valid since she loses this vine-like hair feature in her older design, though.

The design for Faeries pull more from insects, but fitting their love for nature they still have a focus on flora, with flower buds on their heads. I thought their earrings were clusters of seeds, but Nao Ikeda's note for them says those are butterfly egg husks.

And then the Flowerlings, who mostly plant but with human faces and hands, which make for a somewhat uncanny design taken as a whole, haha. I've discussed Flowerlings' concept art in an older post, but to recap, they were their own race and might have had their own quest line, but in game they're related to Sproutlings.

I wasn't sure whether to include Sandra, as her head flower accessories are an iconic part of her design, but it doesn't tie into a plant theme like the other characters here, so I decided not to in the end. I guess she's an honorary member? And if so, Bud and Lisa would be too - Lisa's name in Japanese is Corona. Bud and Corona - the magic siblings' names are related to flowers!

One final member, however - no one else other than the Mana Goddess!

She has multiple forms, but all of them feature plants. Her inclusion doesn't add much to this group numbers-wise, but they're still important. Her goddess form appears in the Teardrop Crystal anime's first episode.

So, the round up for each group, counting members who fit in two different groups:

Birds group has 12 members (Pirate Penguins, Pelican, Monique, Elle, Pokiehl, Rev. Nouvelle, Miss Yuka, Teapo, Cancun Bird, Windcallers, Lilipeas and Count Dovula. This isn't counting unique members, like the Lilipea leader with a bird on its head, and Valerie among the penguins.)

(Mammalian) Beast group has 13 members (Daena, Niccolo, Larc, Sierra, Irwin, Skippie, Hamson, Gilbert, Capella, Sotherbee, Dudbears, Putty and Rosiotti. It's a bit debatable if Vadise should be here, but including her, it will be 14).

Reptilian group has 6 members (Akravator, Jajara, Drakonis, Tote and Kathinja and Kristie. Their numbers drop even more if you don't include the three dragons.)

Marine group has 7-8 members, depending on how you count Pearl and Blackpearl lol. (Pearl, Lady Blackpearl, Cap'n Tusk, Pirate Penguins, Basket Fish, Tote, and Flameshe). Hmm...I could have included Diddle since he's a tadpole...adding him, the numbers would be 8-9.

And the plant group has 12 members, all in all, counting Flowerlings as only one! I'm kind of surprised there aren't more, given the Mana series' focus on plants, but it's still easily a large group.

But there are a few more categories I can think of - the next one will be those themed after Toys!

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

hiii! so for your one piece self ship, do you have a devil fruit ability or did you decide to keep the ability to swim?

heyo anon! thanks for asking. this is a bit of my selfship lore that got a retcon/update. teen nyla ate with her og idea of having a fight with teach over the dark dark fruit, only to end up eating it myself after barely stopping him from murdering thatch for it

in the present though, there is no way i would eat that fruit because of the whole 'you feel pain twice as bad' thing. there is no way i'm making my period cramps 10 times worse than they already are. sooo i decided to give myself a new devil fruit ability and to be on theme, that fruit is ー

Faerie Faerie Fruit, Model: Banshee

Type: Paramecia Level 1 Drawing Skills Description: a gray, oval-shaped fruit that is wrinkly in appearance, looking as if it has a face caved in despair. Quick Summary: effectively turns the user into a banshee giving them the ability to sense death, crying, keening and shrieking to alert those around them when it is near. The fruit also grants the user the ability to see and communicate with spirits of the deceased.

Limitations:

Users of this fruit can't sense their own death, so they get no warning for when it's about to be curtains. Users of this fruit technically do not bring death itself, only announcing when it is near, but they can scream at a loud enough frequency that it can stun or kill somebody if used offensively.

Other Known Faerie Faerie Fruits + Adjacent Fruit:

Faerie Faerie Fruit, Model: Pixie

Faerie Faerie Fruit, Model: Goblin

Faerie Faerie Fruit, Model: Phouka

Cat Cat Fruit, Model: Cat Sith

Dog Dog Fruit, Model: Cu Sith

Horse Horse Fruit, Model: Kelpie

i do really love the ocean and water, if i could live in that bitch i would so in my selfship lore i have gone on record saying i would never eat a devil fruit because i wouldn't want to lose my ability to swim. but after coming across the banshee variant of the faerie faerie fruit and remembering the pain of losing my grandfather and sabo, i never want to be caught off guard again

and i figure, if i know a death is coming, i'll be able to prevent it

i think i probably tell ace way later down the line that i hope i die first because i never want to sense that he is going to die soon, same for luffy and sabo once we reunite with him. i'd rather bite the dust first and call it a day than sense that any of them will be dying in the near future

[fairylandblog]

Faeries and Cheese

The idea of faeries liking cheese is a charming and whimsical notion that reflects the long-standing connection between folklore, food, and the natural world. People often think of faeries as creatures of mystery and enchantment, appreciating the finer things in life. Ethereal entities seem to enjoy cheese's many flavors, textures, and preparations. The prominent importance of dairy in rural life, the magical transformation of cheesemaking, and the cultural predisposition to attach supernatural preferences to legendary creatures may explain this link. Many traditions associate faeries with the land and its resources, particularly those that require care and expertise to produce. Cheese, a mixture of human and natural resources, fits this approach. Turning milk into cheese requires science and art that may appear miraculous to outsiders. Cheese preservation, with its variable and unpredictable effects, was mysterious before contemporary processes. A cuisine that combines nature's basic material with human creativity might draw faeries. Cheese may signify a bridge between the natural and the human-made, like faeries, who exist between realms.

Cheese is also associated with faeries because of their reputation as connoisseurs of fine, simple meals. Fairies occasionally consume milk, cream, butter, and other dairy products, demonstrating their inclination towards rich, nutritious foods. These species would likely like cheese, especially fresh and creamy types. Cheese pairs well with honey, pastries, and fruits, which faeries are known to love. The idea that faeries like cheese humanizes them while retaining their unearthly charm. Humans bring food to faeries in mythology to gain favor or protection. These offerings generally include cheese, a valued item and symbol of hospitality. Farmers may give the fae small bits of cheese with bread or milk to win their favor. These offerings served as both a symbol of reverence and a practical measure to safeguard one's home or animals from faeries. Faeries enjoy cheese, which may indicate generosity and reverence for invisible entities. Sharing a farmer's harvest with faeries would reap rewards, whereas stinginess or carelessness could result in spoiled milk or sick cows. The eating of cheese by faeries demonstrates the connection between legend and cuisine. Food was a symbol of community, identity, and spirituality in ancient and medieval society. Cheese represented fertility, abundance, and the rewards of careful stewardship as a land and animal product. People may have equated fairies with cheese to underscore their sacredness. People could appreciate the wealth of the land and acknowledge the mysterious forces that ruled them by envisioning faeries as cheese lovers.

Cheese has the potential to attract faeries, who are known for their tricks in folklore. Fairies are mischievous creatures who like to steal small, valuable goods from humans. Cheese, beloved in rural communities, may have been an enticing target. Tales of faeries stealing cheese from homes or barns likely fueled their affection for it. While humorous, these stories warned people to secure their food reserves and respect the invisible realm. The appeal of imagined faeries eating cheese lies in its ability to blend enchantment with reality. Faeries transform cheese, a modest but adaptable dish, into a miracle. It reminds us of the joy of simple pleasures and how folklore makes everyday objects mysterious and connected. Cheese, whether given to curry favor, stolen, or shared, symbolizes human fascination with nature and its magic in fairy lore. This thought inspires us to wonder about even the most mundane things, as if the faeries are eating cheese just beyond our perception.

[slushiebonez]

YAYAYAYAYA OKAYYY!!!! ;3 (Apologies for the late yapping, had to eat dinner)

Starting off with the one I had the most ideas with: Blue Raspberry Cookie (She/Her)

She's a cookie from a higher class, you could tell from her stylish dress and posh attitude. While she does tend to be a little sassy and even judgmental at times, she can be generous to others sometimes too! She also drabbles in some of her own dresses ever now and then! Also her main weapon of choice is a fan decorated with shard blue diamonds around the edges. She's heavily inspired by Rarity from MLP, Blue Raspberry Cookie even says "Darling" a lot too XD.

Blue Raspberry Cookie also has a daughter! Her name's Sea Salt Cookie (She/Her). Who unlike her mother (Who's posh and cares so much about her looks), is more spark and loves exploring the deep ocean. She dreams of becoming a skilled pirate one day, and hopes to join the Salty Shark (Which I believe is Captain Caviar Cookie's crew?) too! Sea Salt Cookie also has a packet salt in her pocket, which she throws in order to blind opponents (It's like pocket sand)

Next one is Noni Dragon Cookie (Any Pronouns), they're a fae dragon, and one of the last residents of the faerie kingdom. They were originally a dragon that got separated from their family, and was adopted by some cookies, although he wished that he'd become a real cookie and help others. One day suddenly, that wish came true! Forgive me for not knowing SHIT about the lore of White Lily Cookie (To a minimum at least), but I feel like Noni Dragon would still see the good in her and look up to her, one of my lines for them reflecting that is "She’d never forsaken us… Right?". Outside of the lore however, Noni Dragon is currently disguised as a cookie, she hopes to learn more about them, yet also discover more of her dragon kin. She's basically like a big ol silly puppy XD (Also! They're inspired by BMO from Adventure Time slightly, and the noni fruit!)

Then we have Pumpkin King Cookie (He/They). He's a mischievous cookie who loves two things; Halloween, and pulling off pranks! He's also my idea for Pumpkin Pie Cookie's daughter, and the original creator behind her plushie, Pompon. It's also said in the wiki that Pumpkin Pie is apparently a ghost or some other kind of supernatural entity, so I decided to make Pumpkin King Cookie one too. I feel like they were separated after a misunderstanding involving witchcraft, and now in the afterlife, Pumpkin King now has the ability to summon pumpkins at his will, and he rides on a big pumpkin when attacking opponents. While proud, cocky, and bold, Pumpkin King can also be a bit dramatic sometimes... XD

The last one I'll share for now is Honey Queen Cookie (She/Her). She's the leader of a group known as "The Hive", which is a colony of bees. She cares about the bees and they care about her, she likes helping them and works hard to find enough honey for them. She's very stoic and doesn't slack off one second for The Hive, she doesn't trust others easily though. She also has an adopted child named Bear Paw Cookie (They/Them. They're basically a chaotic lil child inspired by bear jellies, gummy bears, and the bear paw cactus).

OKAYYYY That's all for now! Ik this post is a lil long but take as much time as you want in reading it! Oh, and I also have a few sketches for Blue Raspberry and Noni Dragon!

oh my god im so sorry i forgot you asked this like. at least a month or two ago and i never responded

and im sad that i didnt because these guys are freakin awesome omg. i love blue raspberry cookie and the duality between her and sea salt, pocket sand swashbuckler sea salt cookie has my whole heart <3

im also always a sucker for the dragons and noni dragon cookie makes me go YIPPEEE YAHOOOOOOO super loud theyre so awesomesauce. the dragons in canon are mainly little Freaks so to see a silly guy that is basically just ouppy is so fun and joyous

pumpkin king cookie..... oh how i love them. i was a hype champion for pumpkin pie from day one shes so silly and i love a dramatic halloween trickster jumps so high i hit the rafters

also honey queen cookie my fair lady rotates her in my head at mach speed. i love it when a very stoic person has a little goober kid hell yeah

idk if my commentary was very insightful lol but id love to hear more about these guys!!!!!! once again sorry for the. month(s) of radio silence omg 😭

[whinnyornot]

PLEASE NOTE: I made these fan redesigns before SSO released or teased any of their magic Gen 3 Shires. This can be corroborated on my Instagram account. More old art pieces. This time it's from my alternate Instagram account I use for creating max stat outfits. When SSO first released the G3 Shire I was curious if they were gonna redo the Whinfells. My club and I were discussing how to update the old designs, and they helped me come up with these Moth inspired concepts. Of course, we now have Nemain taking the place of the old Halloween Whinfell, but I didn't know about that at the time I made these. Unlike my redesigns of real-life breeds, I used the same logic as SSO and just chose coat colors I thought fit best with the designs (while still staying close to the originals), regardless of color restrictions. I originally teased the release of these concepts with this little teaser image which elaborated further on the lore SSO put in the Whinfell's updated breed description. Whinfell redesigns: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] Transcript:

"Magic Horses on Jorvik are creatures of stories and folklore. As the tales are passed down over the ages, the legends of these horses have been kept alive…

The Whinfell are said to be spirits of growth and fertility. During the spring and times of harvest, these pollinating horses run through Jorvik, dropping iridescent scales from their fur that nurture and greatly enhance the growing power of any foliage they may land on.

This power also extends to the feathered fetlocks of the Whinfell which are a sight to behold, and Jorvegian folklore describes them as having the power to make crops flourish overnight. All it takes is for a Whinfell to gallop across a field of growing produce, and by the next day, the plants will have grown to fruition.

Some legends say these powerful creatures are commonly used as mounts for faeries who braid their manes into tiny stirrups and reins, and ride the Whinfell throughout the night, assisting them on their fruitful runs through the forests and fields. Should a human be so lucky to befriend a Whinfell, they must take great care not to undo the braids within its mane, lest they bring about the wrath of the fae.

While typically wary of humans, the Whinfell makes an excellent companion once their trust is gained. However, riders should steer clear of cities and brightly lit roads at night. The Whinfell are inexplicably drawn to artificial lights and can become so entranced in their glow, they may forget to watch where they are going!

Whether in their true magical colors or in disguise, they ride just like the Shires they resemble."

[faerings-dreamscape]

What do fae eat?

The Fae enjoy a variety of things I suppose.

They enjoy food from the garden, you know, natural food. Fruits and veggies taste good to them.

They love homemade things, homemade bread, pastries, sweets, etc.

If you wish to give them something, do not feed them junk that was bought at the grocery store. It can contain many things they cannot eat or do not like to eat, and if you buy it, they may think you did not give any thought into the gift. It will not have much value.

Sugar, they love it.

Some sorts of Fae eat meat, but it’s a tricky thing to deal with so I don’t recommend giving them any.

Milk!!!

Honey!

And some do enjoy feasting on human flesh, so, be careful of that :)

Thank you for the ask love!✨💕

[lailoken]

"The traditional metaphysics of Elfland lie at the heart of true Witchcraft, a body of ancestral faery teachings and arts which formed a hidden tradition transmitted down the centuries across Europe and the British Isles. The historical documentation provides ample evidence of the witches' trafficking with Faerie and their close associations with faery beings and the people of the Sidhe, 'the lordly ones in the hollow hills'.

The underworldly realms of the Sidhe is conceived of asbeing literally 'beneath' the earth, 'underneath' the surface phenomena of nature and middle-earth as an underlying depth-dimension of archetypes and endlessly regenerated potentialities. This is the spiritual landscape of Elfhame where the 'People of Peace' dwell, known to the Irish Celts as Tir Andomain and Tir Na n'Og, the Annwvyn of Welsh tradition and in Teutonic lore, the kingdom of Hel. In the mediaeval period the chthonic realm was known as the Land of Faerie.

In the Netherworld we descend to the very roots of being, into the faery radiance which emanates from the haunted mounds; concealed in the depths is the secret source of generation, death and rebirth for it is the place where the souls of the dead reside between incarnations according to traditional lore. There, the dead are restored and renewed by partaking of the sacred fruit, the apples of the Otherworld plucked from Mother Holle's subterranean orchard or from the trees of Ynys Afallon, ruled over by Morgan Le Faye. The Silver Branch or Craebh Sidhe, which allows passage into Elfland, is a bough upon which three silver apples hang, emitting faery music that entrances all who hear it.

The 'Hooded Ones', the land-spirits and faery ancestors of ancient Britain; their pointed hoods became the caps of the pixies.

Our ancient forebears possessed a perpetual awareness of other worlds and states of reality which at particular times and places could break through' into our world, often in eerie and eldritch ways. There were also traditionally known loci where the worlds touched, places of intercommunication between middle-earth and Elfland such as trees, mounds, hills, caverns, watercourses, pools and wells. At these sites passage between the worlds could, and still can be effected through the use of the faery arts.

The kingdom of the Sidhe exists outside and beyond the cycles of space/time which govern the material universe - it is well known that travellers to Faerie have spent years there only to find mere minutes have elapsed upon their return to our world. Those who reside for a night in that land may find that centuries have passed when they come back into middle-earth. Elfhame lies outside the circles of time and this mysterious atemporality is the inner key to the metaphysics of rebirth and the cyclic reincarnation of ancestors in their tribal and familial descendants.

Elfland is inhabited by a diversity of intelligences ranging from the divine beings and godlings within the earth to divinized ancestral-souls and non-human faery-entitities, theriomorphs and ornithomorphs. All these beings can be accurately described as faeries, for they all inhabit that mode of existence which is utterly 'other' - the wild and mysterious faery 'state'.

According to the inner doctrine of the faery-faith, the post-mortem soul descends into Elfhame and enters into the state of the Sidhe, sojourning as a faery in the otherworld whilst awaiting the right cyclical patterns which will enable it's earthly rebirth to occur, usually in the body of a clannic descendant. The spirits of the dead thus become mystically unified with the inner heart of the land, merging with particular loci such as hills or trees for the world of the Faerie is the inherent spiritual dimension which exists concealed within the natural landscape as it's inner archetypal reality.

The human' and the 'faery are the two poles of our being between which we oscillate through our transmigrational cycles of rebirths, our countless discarnations and incarnations. In other words, the Sidhe are ourselves awaiting birth in middle-earth and we ourselves are the Sidhe awaiting our return to Elfhame. The faerie Craft is concerned with regaining the totality of our awareness, bridging our human and faery natures and activating the 'Sight of the Two Worlds' or 'Second Sight', the faculty of trance-seership and direct spiritual vision into Elfhame.

The dead thus become faeries between incarnations and certain souls in the underworld may, in time, undergo a complete faery metamorphosis and no longer incarnate as human-beings - these are the 'Master Men' of Scottish witch-lore. The identification of the faery- faith as an ancestral cultus clarifies many hitherto obscure problems and allows us an insight into the destiny of the soul and it's post mortem relationship with the noumenal and natural environments. The Faery Rade or Sluagh Sidhe rides out at Halloween, the liminal and intercalendary time of the hallowed ancestral souls. This Faery Host manifests along the dead straight 'faery passes' which link the sepulchral tumuli which are their forts, changing their hunting-grounds at the four Quarter-Days. These 'faery-roads' are a Celtic analogue to the Dutch 'death-roads' and German 'Geisterweige', the Saxon 'deada waeg', the tracks of the Wild Hunt and the spectral Black Dog and the traditional English Corpse-Roads', 'Coffin-Paths' and 'Church-ways' - they are all funereal lines of spirit-movement which link burial places, graveyards and mounds. On the west coast of Ireland much oral folk-lore makes the identity of the faeries as the souls of the departed very clear for they say that if you have many dead friends you will have many good faeries about you. The Sidhe of Irish tradition and the Elves in German folklore, are the chtonic faery-ancestors, divinized souls who have passed below the land and who exert a subtle influence upon the living in whom they await rebirth, mysteriously informing their minds and bodies from the depths of the hidden kingdoms. As Jacob Grimm astutely observed: "The dead were known to the Norsemen as elves."

—

Call of the Horned Piper

9: 'Faerie Witchcraft & the Geography of Elfland'

by Nigel Aldcroft Jackson