I Am Sae' Fair An' Fu' O' Flesh...

‘Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark’ to me was an improvement over the original television movie. A lot of what worked for me – the dark fairy tale aspect with the tooth fairies, the child protagonist, the mansion, etc – were all implemented by Guillermo de Toro (who didn’t direct but only wrote the script.) I think the story works better that way as an almost gothic horror/fantasy hybrid. I watched the original version later and found it less effective.

Prince Nuada || Hellboy || Requested

      “And that is why you sit on a throne Dear Lady. Do you happen to have any other individuals you would rather see breathless? I find myself bored this eve and a bit of bloodshed would be a wonderful way to while away the hours.”

“Bloodlust becomes Bethmooran royalty? I was unaware.” Her tone is rigidly uninterested, though she turns a keen eye to him, “You would make yourself my esteemed Executioner all for the sake of entertainment?” A low sigh leaves bloodless lips. The longer she holds the throne, the colder it creates her. “And if I said the World, what then?”

Reign of the Accursed by Manzanedo

These 31 Cosplay Costumes Will Make Your Day Much Brighter. http://viraly.rocks/s991u-these-31-cosplay-costumes-will-make-your-day-much-brighter

And so, he crept nearer still, until finally a cold wet nose pressed to her skin. It was followed shortly after with the press of the wolf’s neck and side into her shoulder. The fur that brushed past was just as cold as that nose, though not as damp at least - and softer by far. To the touch, it more closely resembled the downy touch of feathers, and this close seemed greener than black.

    A voice. He had heard a voice. Malekith turned, a brow raised as he stared at the Queen, bloody, but undefeated. Smeared with the life of her enemies, his kin her— And then nothing. No more crimson tide at her feet. No more symphony of metal upon metal. Simply the silence of the night and— “What I not… I- I do not recall.”

    The word was not intoned with command, the whisper of a plea on the air as he shook his head once, white, white hair clinging to flushed skin like ghostly veins.           “I am well. I need no tending.. I trust none enough too allow it..”

She does not release the sight of his weakness from the ungiving hold of her gaze. The shudder that tremors through him, recalls in her, the memory of a stone wall; cut and threaded with vines that crack the surface, until the even the base rattles and shakes apart, leaving only rubble and ruin in its wake. There were times that she herself had brought him to humiliation, reduced him to remain beneath her. She had the means, the ability to make him utterly vulnerable. But not in this way.  This was accomplished only by the cruelty of nature and his own lack of immunity. Another moment’s quiet consideration and then her shoulders rose and fell in time to the soft, decisive sigh that she allowed, before lowering her raised hand to lace into the fingers of one of his own, turning away softly and leading him as one would the blind to the safety and privacy of her own chamber where no other would witness him in such a severe state. “There are no protestations in dreams.  Come.  You are allowed to trust me here.”

The Unseelie hissed through his teeth, stepping forward to loom menacingly over the human female. Yet the compulsion to do as she bid tugged at his bones. He had to obey. Leaning in to speak directly into her ear he said the name that would grant her ultimate power over his person. It sounded sort of like ‘Ayl’ but it was melodic and every stop or extra hum was a part of the Name.

The uttering settled like a serenade in her ear, the brush and stroke of it luxurious - like a living thing. Unwinding and unwound, coiling serpents of sound. She hummed in air, low and soft. "Thank you." Another Fae law broken, which would only make her crime all the more heinous. "It's lovely."

The corpse of a fallen, elven spy stares blankly up at the ceiling. The gash in his throat is deep and neat, delivered by a hand long-practiced in the art of execution. Muckrot steps over the corpse, wiping his serrated bone blade off on the leg of his pants. He studies the mortal queen who sits so brazenly in Accursed’s castle, then inclines bows his head in an empty gesture of respect. "The Wild Hunt, Majesty," he answers. His deep voice echoes throughout the massive chamber, cool and composed in spite of the events that transpired moments earlier. There is something grudging about this admission; after all, the Hunt is a frenzied sort of thing: moon madness and the baying of hounds. A forked tongue skims over his bottom lip, sweeping away a spatter of black blood as he remembers. “Perhaps.”

Her gaze narrowed and refocused to his outline.  The world was swimming. Koi in the blood stream of her veins, "All Fae libation is spiked...to a mortal."

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

From the pen of the fantastic Inskinned (via nakedhipstercircus)