#fae stories

[phantom-finch]

May I just tell everyone that I love stories about Fae and stuff like that, I love reading about them. But, only if it’s accurate to actually folklore.

The not giving your name out, not saying thank you, fairy rings. That stuff

I have seen two books like that, one was one Wattpad.

If anyone knows a good book please recommend

[swirly-potato]

This is a story about a changeling and his sister.

Not so long ago there was a woman who wanted so desperately for a perfect family that she did the unthinkable. She made a deal with the fae—they would give her what she wished for, but at a terrible price: When the child turned thirteen, the fae would come to take it away.

True to the agreement, the woman had her firstborn—a lovely, laughing baby boy with curly rowan-brown locks and a face covered with freckles. She waited, but the fae did not come to mark the child, so she raised the child as her own, gleefully thinking she had outwitted the High Court.

Three years passed, and the baby boy grew strange and fretful. His hair was now unruly and tangled, and he shrieked whenever his mother tried to comb it. He turned difficult and stubborn, with hands that pulled and yanked and a mouth that screamed and bit but never spoke. His mother, who had begun to view the child as a curse from the woods, contented herself with caring for her second-born—another girl, with clear, sparkling blue eyes and hair as yellow as summer sun. She named the second child Sylvia.

Sylvia’s hair never tangled, she never arrived home covered in mud and dirt, and she never cried—but she never laughed either, not that the woman noticed. Meanwhile, the older child—growing quite resentful of his sister—found himself drawn to the woods, pulled by a mysterious feeling that he could not quite place. 

The boy’s fingers continued to twitch, and his mouth continued to move—creating beautiful harmonies that drew nature itself to him. But his mother hated the noise, and, being a very proud woman, locked him in his room whenever he sang. She called him cursed child, witchblood, hobgoblin, faeryspawn, but never his name—which he picked for himself, a lovely name, Rowan.

When young Sylvia was thirteen, the High Court came to collect what they were owed. Her mother fell at the feet of the terrifying creature before her and begged them to take her son instead. The fae refused. We have come to take your child, it said, and although the boy is your son, he was never your child to you.

Young Rowan, who was now a man of sixteen, whose charm and sensitivity and song had formed him into a capable youth, stood before the slavering magical being. Sylvia hid behind him, crying and confused, blue eyes sparkling not with sunlight, but with terrified tears.

“Why have you come to take her?”

It was the bargain, the fae replied.

“No.” Rowan raised his chin and looked the creature in the eye. “Why have you come to take her? What will you do with her once she is in your world?”

I do not know, said the fae. Perhaps she will be a worker, or a pet, or a slave. Perhaps—its eyes gleamed in a way that the youth greatly disliked—she will be a lover for one of the High Court–

Its words were cut off abruptly by the impact of Rowan’s fist to its face. 

The magical creature sputtered in anger. You dare—

Once again, its words were stifled by the impact of Rowan’s other fist. 

“The bargain says that a fae will take Sylvia away when she turns thirteen,” he said menacingly. “Can that fae not be her brother?”

You have made an enemy of the High Court, changeling boy, threatened the fae (already halfway out the door). For your own good, pray that our paths do not cross again.

Rowan turned to his younger sister and the woman who called herself his mother. Timid Sylvia shook with fear, while the mother shook with rage. The latter stabbed a finger at him. “You ruined it,” she snarled. “You ruined everything. My perfect family. My perfect daughter—”

Her beloved golden Sylvia flinched away from her.

[i-am-mildly-insane]

@gallusrostromegalus This seems like something that would happen to you. Except you would befriend the deer.

[kikiskitchenwitchery]

My current read.

Friends, do me a favor. Go look up the new cover and tell me the vibe that gives.

This cover gives ethereal slightly spooky fae vibes. The new cover gives feral trickster fae.

I have owned this in its first paperback edition for a while. I found it in one of my romps through a thrift store.

I shall keep you posted.

[writtenbykiki]

Taya, Between Today

She could feel the curtain slide closed behind her. Not soft like a curtain should but firmly like a sturdy door. She looked behind her to make certain it did close. No one needs to deal with a Gumberoo or worse. Before her was a long hallway. Impossibly long really. There should be nothing much beyond the curtain but wall and then street. There was just hallway. It was not lit. But her eyes were made for the dim light of hidden places. Taking fives steps forward then turning slightly to her left and taking five more steps she came to a doorway. Tay knocked softly and hoped that the guard was on the other side. It would suck if she had to stand here long with this pile of books. Time stretched and she sat down the box and took out the book String had ordered for her. She cracked the spine and dove in. She was on the third chapter when the door opened. "Taya Of the Hill Folk, you know you are not to bring back undeclared items. I cannot let you through until you declare." Startled by the guard, she thought this one was called Horner, she slowly closed the book and stood. She then picked up the box and cleared her throat. "I, Taya of the Hill FOlk, Declare this box of books from the human folk to be mine and mine alone. I declare this collection of herbs and teas to be for the GrandMar and they alone. All other straggling things are on their own." She said loudly and firmly. Horner nodded and swung the door open wider. Crossing over the threshold Tay felt the world tilt and become her world. The colors deepened and the light became something more of an ambient glow. The light was so similiar to the light of a rainy fall Seattle morning and yet so different. In Seattle the light came from the sky, here it just was. This doorway as at the back of the Day Market of the West. That was the thing about the paths. They came and went to similar places in their worlds. If Tay waited she could have gone to the Night Market. But that was not where she was needed. Thanking Horner she picked up her box and headed into the chaos of a fae market. Her first stop was for chestnuts. She was starving. They weren't as tasty as the steam buns but they did the job. Next up was to find GrandMars tent. Which was always near the center and always lit like a small city. Today the top of the lime green and pale blue tend was topped with a weather vane that reminded Tay of a skyscraper. Which probably meant he knew she was coming. Good. She wanted this over with. If he were to prolong her exile, she wanted to take her books and go back as soon as possible.

The front of the tent was open. Folk milled about waiting for their turn to enter and have audience with GrandMar, the defacto mayor of both Day and Night Markets of the West, and of the Western Edge folk. Here he settled disputes or created them, set rules and guidelines and just generally made things work. Mostly. Most regular folk never got an audience with him. No one ever really wanted an audience with him. As Tay approached the guards saw her and crossed their absurdly long spears (all show and zero function) to prevent her entry. "Halt human, you have no place here" Tay straightened her back and carefully set the box down. She dropped her glamour and the guards dropped their comical spears. "I am Taya of the Hill Folk and I have been summoned by the GrandMar. To deny me entry is to deny his wishes." The guards slid to the side and bowed deeply. Taya walked past them and entered GrandMars tent. Inside was vast. One huge circular room with a raised circular dias in the center. On the dais was a throne. Or what the GrandMar treated as a throne. The truth was, as most things were, much more complicated Taya approached the dais. "Grandmar of the Western Folk, I, Taya of the Hill Folk am here at your request. I have returned from the exile you sent me to. I do not come of my own accord." She spoke loudly making sure the whole of the tent heard here. GrandMar turned his attention to her and smiled. He looked like little more than a fishmonger. Long stringy grey hair, that framed the wizened face of an old man. But GrandMar was not old, not a fishmonger. He was a powerful and dangerous fae lord. Who had the power to control much of the lives of the fae he ruled over. Today, for the first time in a long time that included Taya.

[egophiliac]

redesigning my headcanon for Sebek's parents, based on important new information (SCALES)

(you can't see it but they're both wearing crocs)

[ryllen]

reason

[applestruda]

Boatem knights joel and lizzie

The hunter and the lady of the woods

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Stuck on the idea of vampires as a kind of reverse fae, or like someone's twisted, perverse attempt at moulding humans into fae.

They're repelled by liminal spaces.

A vampire could never enter fairyland, not just because they'd never be welcomed, but because most of the usual entry-ways are naturally barred to them.

They can't cross running water. They can't be seen in mirrors. They will wait forever at a crossroads, unable to pick a direction to go in. They can't even step over a thresh-hold unless there is absolutely no ambiguity about whether they are welcome inside.

They crave human blood, iron and salt, but are repelled by herbs and plants. They are supernaturally prevented from harming you unless the rules of hospitality have been invoked.

A fairy may replace your newborn child with something unnatural and ever-hungry. A vampire will do the same, but with your grandmother's corpse.

The fae are typically associated, even in stories where they're the bad guys, with flourishing and purity. Vampires, even in stories where they're the good guys, are typically associated with decay and corruption.

The fae turn ancient human burial mounds into fancy halls for their courts. Vampires take ancient human castles and let them grow mildewed and cobwebbed, exchanging the beds for coffins, turning them into burial places.

Fae don't tend to live among humans, but can generally pass for them with relative ease if they so choose. Vampires nearly always live among humans, but tend to find not revealing themselves a huge struggle.

I can't think of many stories I've read where fae and vampires even exist in the same universe, let alone ones where they actively interact. I feel like their enmity is almost more inevitable than that between vampires and werewolves, however.

The rivalry between vampires and werewolves is, essentially, the rivalry between two apex predator species who share a territory. (Even in stories where the werewolves aren't actually hunting humans.)

The vampires hate the werewolves because the werewolves interfere with their access to prey. The werewolves hate the vampires either because they consider themselves aligned with humans (the prey species), or because they are also predators and the vampires are competing with them.

By comparison, I think there's some story potential in the fae finding something genuinely creepy and uncanny valley about vampires.

They're immortal, like them, but also dead. They can be beautiful, like them, but that beauty is something they actively require humans to sustain. They like to inhabit beautiful and ancient ex-human dwellings, like them, but they actively work to make those places dark, damp and empty.

Fairies who are unflappable in the face of all sorts of Otherworldly monsters, can look an eldritch horror in the eye(s) without blinking, and have never been phased yet by any human, but will recoil from even the weakest vampire.

Vampires who hate fairies just as much, but in a more envious way. The way that the creature for whom immortality is a curse is bound to hate the creatures for whom immortality is an eternity of sunlight and laughter.

Maybe their touches burn each other. Maybe vampires can't stand physical contact with anything so alive and vital. Maybe immortal fairies become ill from too much exposure to the undead.

Maybe they fight over the human population when their territories overlap. The fairy need for servants and people to make deals with, competing with the vampire need for thralls and blood to drink.

Just… fairies and vampires. We need more stories about them interacting.

[israaverse]

[OC/FAE] "Pray, sweet girl, wouldst thou cometh closer?"

[nerdpoe]

So like...Sam's Liminal. Definitely Liminal. She's also very pretty. Constantine's a little tipsy, but he's very, very sure he just accidentally sat next to a Fae at the bar.

Heavily influenced by certain lines in Inferno, buttttt

Sam's a very pretty young woman. Beautiful smile (with too sharp teeth), lovely eyes (but they're a little too wide, a little too bright), fantastic skin (unnaturally pale, suspiciously cold), and a very pretty face (perfectly symmetrical)-first glance anyone who leans towards women would get instant butterflies in the stomach.

But Constantine's been around danger enough to recognize those aren't butterflies.

That's fear.

There's a deep, instinctual fear that is telling him he has to run.

Just as he's about to leave, though, her hand rests itself on his arm.

"Leaving so soon, Hellblazer? And here I thought you'd want to take a look at this...interesting contract I found."

Ah. Shit.

He sits back down, next to the Unseelie Fae who, apparently, owns part of his soul.

Sam, for her part, just wants to scare the idiot straight so he'll stop making work for Danny. (Danny's days are almost nothing but fielding complaints about Constantine and he's so fucking close to hunting the man down himself).

[charminglyantiquated]

First: once you know something’s name you have power over it. This is an old, old rule. Be careful giving out your name, because if it can be given it can be taken, and you along with it.

Second: the fae love beautiful things, and they will steal what they love. Sometimes it is to keep the object of their affection pristine and unaging, unravaged by time; sometimes it is just for the sake of having it. (They don’t love in the same way we do.)

Third: a changeling is a replica created to hide a theft. Sometimes it is a fae creature fully alive and wearing a stolen face. Sometimes it is simply a bundle of branches wrapped in magic, meant to die a wasting death and leave mourners who never suspect the truth.

Last: our city was beautiful. It was known far and wide, and because of that had names spoken in many different tongues. But it was not so hard to gather them all, in the end.

The changeling city was built in a night. The elf-queen fell in love with it, the story goes, and she had to have it. The sun on the far side of the equinox rose to find our city had been stolen from under us, and an imperfect imitation left in its place. Those who had known it their whole life found it suddenly strange underfoot, unfamilar and uncanny. Something woven of branches wrapped in magic, meant to die a wasting death and leave mourners who never suspected the truth.

And yet. What does a changeling want? It exists to hide a theft and then to die. What does it want?

A city can die. A city can be dying. So a city must then also be able to live. A city grows and changes and devours itself to grow further. Cities are hungry. A city kept unaging and untouched will starve to death: it becomes its own mausoleum. (Our city, the stolen city, is pristine and unaging and unravaged by time, in the elf-queen’s land. It is also dead.)

Our city, the changeling city, was meant to die - and so it must have been living, and living things want to keep living. We want it to keep living. We tear down buildings and raise new ones, pave and repave old streets, dig deep into the earth below, coax the borders ever outward like creeping vines. The changes tear open the glamor. The cobweb-thick veil of magic bubbles and warps around new steel girders and road salts, the slow march forward of time and architecture and the tides of humanity. It is how we discover the theft. But even then our city, the changeling city, was already too much something-else to be sent back wholesale. We would not burn it.

Our city becomes stranger around each new rupture point. Marble crumbles into ancient seashells when we tear down old buildings for the stone. When we dig downward into what should be ancient, buried streets, ready to excavate and tunnel, we find untouched cave systems full of silver trees, perfect unmoving imitations of life. Sometimes the cobblestones shake loose and you can see tiles of lapis lazuli and bone laid below them. Some streets writhe like snakes, or unname themselves. In the oldest parts of the city, which we have altered the least, there are buildings that have electricity and running water and heat, even though there is nothing in the bundled-branch walls but kudzu.

This strangeness, the way it shifts and contorts as it grows into something new, is as much part of our city as the image of the stolen city is. The changeling city is a branch grafted into another tree, bearing the first blooms of something the roots were never meant to support. But bloom it does. There are people born in this city, now, who never knew the stolen one at all. People who will never, in all their lives and all the world, feel at home anywhere else, nor know another place half as well.

What does a changeling want? It exists to hide a theft, but what does it want? To be allowed to be. To grow beyond the image it was made in. This is not our city, the stolen city. And yet this is our city. Ever-changing and ravaged by time and alive, it is our city.

It has its own name by now, but you will never know it. We have lost, and learned, and love too dearly to lose this one.  

[pintvhorror]

Fae lore. Eldritch Abominations. Analog Horror. PSX aesthetics.

Please follow and read our Webcomic:

PINTVHORROR 💀🦋

[callum-librrry]

Uncanny Valley

Tom and Hazai were exploring a planet recently added to the intergalactic database. Navis was tasked with bringing supply packages to the sentient species there. It was all, of course, an effort to have the planet be knowledgeable of the wider community of space while attempting to keep their technological influence to a minimum. They did something similar to Earth way back when the lightwaves finally made it to the council and Humans were confirmed to be sentient themselves. Unfortunately, any attempts made were quickly swept under the rug known as secret government agencies.

 This planet seemed to be doing much better environmentally than Earth was. Lifeforms here evolved somewhat eerily. Most flora was found underground where liquid water was in constant supply. Tom had also seen a large plant with what looked suspiciously like bones in various odd places. After some confirmation with various off-world researchers, it was noted that the plants here were carnivorous. This made sense in Tom’s mind, considering there were multiple examples of such behaviour in the plant life on his home planet. This information spooked Hazai quite a bit more. She was nervous around anything with roots for the entire rest of the mission.

 They had been wandering with a vague sense of purpose for quite some time and they were yet to come across any sort of sentient life. This fact did not help the ever-increasing complaining of Tom’s muscles under the weight of the supplies. Gravity here was slightly stronger here than it was in standard conditions, which did not help the ache in Tom’s back in the slightest.

 “Hey, Hazai,” he said at last, “I think we should take a break. I can’t carry this pack any longer.”

 Hazai reluctantly agreed. She was itching to get out of the underground tunnels and back into the starlight. Nevertheless, they sat down beside a large woody plant that smelt vaguely of honey and laid down some sleeping bags. Well, Tom did in any case. Hazai liked to rest sitting upright with her feathers ruffled in a way the Human found incredibly endearing.

 Tom was almost asleep when he heard the sound of footsteps echoing off the tunnel walls. He jerked upright. Hazai had heard the sounds too but seemed less troubled by it.

 The footsteps continued. They sounded odd to Tom. They were familiar. Concerningly so. He could hear that whatever it was was bipedal. Its footfalls were also heavy. Not much could echo in such a densely vegetated area. The sound seemed almost… human.

 Almost.

 Some primal instinct was crawling its way up Tom’s spine. Something was seriously wrong here. He just couldn’t pinpoint what.

 He edged up from his sleeping bag, not taking his eyes off the slight bend in the tunnel where the footsteps grew steadily closer.

 Hazai seemed to sense the tension now. Her feathers puffed up and she raised her arms in a way not dissimilar to a threatened owl. She did look bigger, but Tom found it difficult to see the Braal as any more intimidating.

 Then, from around the bend a figure emerged. The dull light of the cave system made it difficult to make them out in any detail but Tom was still certain that there was something wrong with this alien.

 "Oh look, Tom!" Chirped Hazai in relief, "It's a Human! Maybe they can help us find--"

 Before she could finish, Tom cut her off with a warning whistle. His nerves made it a little off-key but the message came through nonetheless. Tom eyed up the approaching figure.

 It did look Human, in every way it should. It had two plantigrade legs and stood upright in the same way a Human would. It had all the key features on its face. Every part of its anatomy was undeniably Human.

 Except, for the fact that it wasn't Human.

 There is an interesting thing amongst the species that isn't seen anywhere else in recorded databases. It's a unique sense known only to Humans. Something that has been dubbed the 'uncanny valley' effect. An ability derived from the insane capability of the Human mind to find a Human face. The mind is in fact, so good at finding faces of the same species that it can impeccably recognise when a face is not Human even though all key indicators show that it should be.

 Notable comments made by various subjects in studies of the phenomenon say that they themselves cannot pinpoint what exactly causes the effect for them. Some guess it can be the way the Not-Human's mouth moves, or that its hands are ever so slightly out of proportion. Another key feature mentioned is the eyes.

 The eyes are what tip Tom off.

 "That's not a Human."

 Hazai looks at him questioningly. She couldn't see any difference between the average Human and the one in front of her.

 "I know you can't see it," Tom said as he grabbed the Braal's feathered shoulder, "but you have to trust me on this."

 Hazai hesitated for a second but complied. She’d seen enough of Humans to know not to question their instincts. She eyed the alien in front of her. She looked desperately for what Tom saw in the being. She didn’t have much time though, because soon after Tom dragged her down the winding stone tunnels. A few plants followed them with their gaping traps. They weren’t running. At least, Tom wasn’t. Hazai managed to keep up with his speed walking by hopping forward occasionally.

 The Not-Human was following them in strides slightly too long. It moved casually. It even spoke.

 “Wait,” it said, “I only want to talk.”

 Hazai had the impression they were speaking through a translator. She could hear the metallic drone behind each word. But she could hear desperation behind it. Something she’d heard from Tom multiple times before.

 “Please,” she tugged at Tom’s sleeve, “Can’t we listen? They might stop once they know we know.”

 Tom grimaced. He was thinking through all the possible ways attempting to negotiate with the alien might go wrong, but with one look into Hazai’s eyes, he complied.

 “Fine,” he groaned, “we’ll talk.”

----

 The alien sat in front of them on a mossy stone. Their limbs were splayed around them in a way that really shouldn’t be comfortable. They looked comfortable now though. The short conversation they had (which was more of a declaration that Tom saw through their disguise) allowed them to relax.

 As it turns out the alien is from a species of ‘shapeshifters’. They explained that it is mainly used as a defence mechanism but as the species became more sentient they tended to use it more for fun.

 “I didn’t mean to freak you out,” They explained, “I just thought you looked cool, and it’s always easier to make friends when you look like them.”

 Tom didn’t make eye contact. He could barely still look at the alien. He understood them, to a certain extent, but the whole ordeal still had him on edge.

 “I’m surprised you knew I wasn’t… uh Human. Generally, my disguises are pretty good”

 Tom spluttered for a second as he tried to think of an answer.

 “It’s– Um, it’s just something we’re good at? We just know when something isn’t actually human.”

 The alien hummed.

 “Don’t think I’ve heard of anything like that before…”

 “You probably haven’t. We’re weird like that.”

 The group fell into a mildly comfortable silence. Tom glanced at Hazai who also seemed to be mulling the new information over. She had a concerned look in her eyes.

 Eventually, Tom remembered the reason they were there in the first place. He handed over the supply pack.

 “It’s mainly just some information about intergalactic culture. Dos and do nots and all that. I think there's some stuff about similar planets and how to survive basic space travel,” Tom picked up a few items as he spoke. “We’re not meant to interfere with ‘the natural technological progression of a planet’, so I can’t really help you out with the getting to space part.”

 “Ah.” The alien was thinking. Tom noticed a certain pattern in the way their limbs moved when they were considering things.

 “I guess I’ll have to get this back to the rest of us,” they said finally.

 The conversation turned to goodbyes here. Tom was eager to leave the weird uncanny valley planet and Hazai just wanted to be able to see the sky without the fear of being eaten by an off-brand pitcher plant. The alien, though, seemed at home here. He explained how he hated to see the two travellers go.

 “But I guess we’ll get more now that we’re registered with, whatever the space organisation is.”

 Tom agreed and they parted ways.

----

 Back on Navis Tom and Yongrae were eating together.

 “I had the weirdest experience on that new planet we went to,” Tom said, “The sentient species there can shapeshift, it’s weird as hell.”

 “Ah,” Yongrae smiled, “like a Not-Deer situation?”

 “Worse. They looked Human.”

 “Ohh…”

 “Y’know I tried to explain it, but it’s just really weird. What even is that?”

 Yongrae thought for a second.

 “Uncanny Valley?” he said, “Like with that one guy in Rogue One?”

 Tom nodded eagerly. It had been on his mind ever since they left the planet. Uncanny Valley. It had a nice sound to it. He’d have to do more research into exactly what it was.

 “Thanks for that, man. It’s been bothering me.”

 “No problem,” Yongrae hit his shoulder, “You know what we should do now? Binge some Star Wars.”

 Tom laughed. While being an Earth classic, the movies really showed their age now. It was more like watching a documentary on what the past Humans thought about space, but it was fun nevertheless.

 “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

[ghost-bxrd]

I’ve been getting really into magical stuff recently and also DC so I’m just gonna drop this here:

Fae Dick Grayson

F A E

okay so fae stories are special to me because I grew up on hearing pagan folklore and fairytales about fae and fae adjacent creatures as good night stories so hooo boy yes I adore that trope! (I mean, I made Dick a Banshee in my fic Shuck so… hehe)

Anyway, Fae Dick Grayson! There’s just so many things you can do with it ✨

Robin appears from one day to the next, following in Batman’s shadow like a mischievous sprite, so honestly rumors have been going wild about him since day one. Robin actually being something non-human doesn’t really come as a surprise!

The fae folk are known for being awfully good at blending in with regular humans when they put their mind to it, the only thing that puts them apart (in most stories) is their otherworldly beauty, and Dick Grayson? Well, he’s definitely got that in abundance.

Just sometimes, when the light reflects off a surface in just the right way, when someone pours a glass of water and you happen to look right through the spray, or when you think you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye and you spin around— but there’s only Dick Grayson, even if a second ago you could have sworn you saw eyes where there weren’t supposed to be any; colors that aren’t supposed to exist; feathers where only skin has any right to be.

And, gods, all the talking. Dick is terrifyingly good at talking to people without actually saying anything, to the point where you walk away from the conversation feeling utterly drained after spilling your entire life story but when you think back on it— you can’t remember him ever telling you anything about himself. You know there were the usual pleasantries of “hi” and “nice to meet you” and “how are you doing?” but anything beyond that just kinda… seemed to spill out of you? It’s very strange. It’s very unnerving. By the end of the evening you other convince yourself you’re overreacting or you simply push the incident out of your mind altogether.

And there’s another thing about Dick. His name.

He only ever introduces himself as Dick Grayson/Robin. Never Richard. Never. Especially not Richard John. Names are sacred for the fae folk, names have power, so while Richard John Grayson may not be Dick’s true name, he treats it as such to honor his parents. None are allowed to use it. None except Bruce or Alfred on special occasion.

Of course, Dick’s “true” name isn’t exactly a secret so when someone does happen to use it… well, Dick may be… other… but he’s still intrinsically good in a way many of his kind don’t have the patience to be. Dick judges on a case by case basis, just like his parents and Bruce taught him. And usually people do not mean it maliciously when they use his name so he kindly corrects them and that’s that. But oh man, if they still insist on calling him “Richard”? Well..

“Oh no, it seems your credit card is being declined, sir!”

“Sheesh, you tripped over a root? In Gotham?!”

“What do you mean ten birds flew into your window last night? You live on floor level!”

“Dude I’m telling you that rash doesn’t look normal.”

“I… don’t think crows are supposed to follow you like that.”

It’s little things (most of the time, unless you really pissed Dick off) but they keep piling up, slowly driving you insane. You feel like you’re being watched, but it’s just a bird sitting on the window sill again. You feel like someone moved all your furniture just slightly to the right even tho you checked all the cameras.

The fae are kind, but they are also vindictive when crossed.

(Thanks to Bruce, however, I think Dick’s bouts of “vengeance” rarely go much farther than that though.)

Dang ok that ended up being an entire rant… wow. Anyway, yeah. Fae.

[gtbutterfly]

Idea I might make into a story:

So you know fae or fairy's kidnap human children sometimes in mythology? What if the reason they did that was to shrink the children down to their size, and give them wings and magic, turning them into fae.

So one day, a young fairy finds out how fae are made, and runs away to find their human parents.

I'd love to write something like this myself, but feel free to use this concept (and if you end up making anything, tag me in it 👍)