#fairy circle kin

[citizenoftmrrwlnd]

stimboard for : a faerie ring kin with faerie wings, plants, forests, glitter, and cottage-y stims requested by 🧚anon

x | x | x x | - | x x | x | x

[idiotmf]

I like the idea of a shy deer centaur (theyre actually called cervitaur) trying to work up the courage to confess his love for the reader

Hey, anon! Thank you so much for giving me the correct term, first of all. I was trying to find out whether there was a name for it, and my erratic Google searches didn't exactly help.

Second of all, sorry this took a few days. Work has been frying me so much (｡•́︿•̀｡)

No NSFW. However, the usual MDNI does still apply because my blog is 18+.

Melian, the white-tailed cervitaur:

(By the way, the word Vae is meant to be pronounced Vá-é; just a heads-up, it will come up a few times.)

 A small ray of sunshine peeked through the window of your weathered cottage in the vast expanse of cedar trees that you called home. The birdfolk once again announced sunrise with a song that you didn't exactly understand, but the longing and nostalgia in it seemed evident, even to a human like yourself.

Refreshed, you sat up in your makeshift bed of straw and hides, pushing your blanket aside to stand up and stretch. Distant rumbling let you know that you should perhaps be a bit quicker with your morning routine today, at least before the storm approached. It was a shame, really.

You had promised Melian that today was finally going to be the day you showed him your favorite spot by the waterfall. The cervitaur was a somewhat new addition to your friend circle, since the deerfolk were usually rather reserved in nature, especially towards things they did not understand, and as a human, you certainly counted as such.

Whether it was by accident or on purpose, one day you ended up in this forest cottage, and however hard you tried to leave these woodlands, it was seemingly impossible. One time you even tried to walk for a whole day, only to end up at the very same overgrown cabin, deciding that it would be your permanent residence, at least for the time being.

As time went on and you befriended the strangely familiar yet completely inhuman creatures of this world, your desire to leave gradually subsided. The birdfolk sang songs at you whenever you passed; the wolf-like creatures occasionally passed by your home to bring you meat and hides; the woodland fairies left you generous offerings of herbs and vegetables. Everyone seemed equally as fascinated by you as you were by them. They even admitted they had never seen a human before and believed you to be a deity sent to protect the forest they inhabited.

Initially, you tried to tell them that you were just a human, not able to protect their home from harm; however, your words fell on deaf ears. One of the tiny woodland fairies, beings made from the elements themselves, resembling more a creation of sticks and leaves than the human-like fairies you had seen in books as a child, explained that it was actually more of a spiritual protection than a physical one. While that both helped and raised more questions, in the end you decided to accept it. After all, what were you going to do about it? No one wanted to believe you were anything but a deity, and the offerings didn't stop either; rather, they increased, and you were dubbed "the humble one."

While everyone worshipped you in their own way, some were too afraid to even cross your path. Among them were the deerfolk, a race of cervitaurs, though their entire bodies were covered in fur, despite the surprisingly human-like anatomy of the upper torso and face. They left generous offerings of their shed antlers in spring, sometimes carved into charms and other knickknacks for you, all while doing their best to avoid your sight.

That was until you met Melian, the deerfolk in charge of delivering the offering last spring, only to end up being discovered by you. From him, you learned that it was a great honor to deliver said offerings, and he had worked hard to even be considered for such a position.

Melian was a bit of an oddity amongst his kin; despite being shy, just like the rest of his kind, he was quite curious, especially in regards to you. Much like all the other creatures of this forest, Melian simply, yet affectionately referred to you as 'Vae', something you had come to accept as your new name, or at least a second one.

In reality, it was more referring to your standing as the protector of this realm, a word that held significance in the ancient language of the forest dwellers; however, being held in such high regard meant that most of them didn't dare utter your name, no matter how many times you insisted.

When you finally managed to meet up with your newest friend after the storm passed, he kept his distance from you, just like he always did, trotting at least a few feet behind you.

He explained it was to make sure you were safe and to respect your standing, but you theorized that he was actually just worried that he would walk too fast next to you or that he was perhaps a little too embarrassed, since no other being had an issue with it.

“It's a bit of a walk from the cottage,” you explained to Melian as you strolled along the path between dense cedar trees, all the way down to a mossy clearing by the waterfall. Along the way, a comfortable silence settled between the two of you; the only thing you heard were the songs of the birdfolk, the gentle rustling of the trees above, and the gentle thumping of Melian's cloven hooves against the earth below. Now and then, you found yourself turning around to glance at your friend, which seemed awfully odd today. His arms, which usually hung loosely by his sides as he walked, now seemed restless, as if he didn't know where to position them anymore. It made you wonder whether it was because of his anxious nature or if something was keeping his mind occupied.

“My Vae,” the stag spoke up after another moment of silence, causing you to jolt and turn towards your large companion trotting behind you, an inquisitive look on your face. He quickly averted his cedar bark-colored eyes upon meeting yours for a moment.

“I, uhm,” he quickly adjusted his gentle, almost timid voice to sound a bit more confident, reverting back to his shy speech halfway through. “I am quite thankful for this opportunity. To, uhm, to see your favorite spot, I mean.” He lowered his gaze to meet your eyes again, his glance lingering a moment before quickly focusing on a tree next to you, barely moving his head while doing so.

“Of course, I promised, didn't I?” Flashing him a genuine smile, you continued to saunter the last stretch of your small journey, leaving him to process for a moment. Shortly after, he caught up, his hooves carrying him with ease, as he took his place behind you once more, just a few feet apart.

Upon finally reaching your destination in what you assumed to be the late afternoon according to the sun, you settled down by the shore of the lake, the waterfall in the distance making the air feel more alive with rogue droplets of water and the loud crashing noise.

“There... There is something I want to tell you.” Hearing Melian's uncharacteristically loud voice be audible over the waterfall ripped you out of your thoughts for a moment, your head tilting to the side, before you asked him to go on. His short tail flicked nervously behind him, causing a small smile to appear on your face. He had always been the cutest out of your friends, and seeing him nervous around you made your heart squeeze in your chest occasionally.

“Of course,” you answered gently when he didn't immediately react to you, stepping back into the forest alongside him to escape the noise of the cascading water for a moment, since it seemed rather important.

“I apologize if this is rather abrupt,” he began, his hands fidgeting, pulling the soft fur of his abdomen in what you assumed to be nervousness or something akin to it.

"The truth is, I... Well, I...” Melian seemed to struggle quite badly now, his head whipping around nervously, making his brown hair follow in turn. You gave him a reassuring smile, trying to be as comforting as possible without saying anything, afraid he might not manage to get the words out if you did say something, even if it was meant to be supportive.

“I... adore you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and some sort of dam seemed to break in his mind when he kept talking, barely even taking breaths in between.

“You are kind and gentle to all of us inhabitants of this forest, and watching you be that way makes me feel complete in a way I cannot describe. It leaves me utterly breathless. Yet... yet, when those werewolves look at you in a filthy manner, I get quite upset. I do not possess you, and I never could, of course, but I cannot stop myself from hoping that–” He stopped himself, his human-like facial features morphing into pure horror when he realized what he had just said.

“My Vae, I can...” Just as he was about to begin apologizing, you wave him down with your hand, making sure he leans over towards you, before giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I thought you'd never tell me,” you grinned at him, his blushing face revealing the fact that he was quite pleased about your actions. Melian let out an almost dramatic sigh before giving you a kiss on the forehead, his short tail almost wagging like that of a happy puppy.

“So, may I assume you feel the same?” Lowering his head a little to be closer to you, he tried to suppress the small smile that threatened to spread into a big grin.

“You may.” Without another word needing to be spoken between the white-tailed deer man and yourself, his face inched closer to yours. Stopping just short of kissing you, his breath mingled with yours, causing a short second of hesitation before he finally closed the space between your lips. No matter how shy and reluctant it was at first, your heart still skipped a beat.

[hmshermitcraft]

for the theme: from the water

bdubs species starts out as a tiny patch of wet moss on rocks, commonly found in and around rivers or lakes. as they age, their rock becomes more and more akin to a living being, an extension - the central nerves start breaching inside the stone. fairies born of moss, they call them in folklore.

a storm breaches the meadowlands in which bdubs resides on a pebble, surrounded by his kin, and he gets separated from them, carried away by water. he does not know how much time passes when he finds himself soaked and unable to move.

it is only then, weeks later, at the beach of a lake, a human picks him up, inspects him. the human, a hermit, does not know what they have picked up. out of desperation bdubs decides to do what moss fairies are forbidden from doing, from even thinking about: he begins the process of transforming his body into what resembles human structure.

"how dare you human pick my rock up? and to carry me somewhere, no discipline!"

gem, ever the curious deer hybrid she is, opens her basket only to see long ears, wings thin as washi paper and a very angry complexion matched with crossed arms.

"a moss fairy!"

Bdubs did not put all those effort in just to be called cute! He's not adorable! Stop 'aww'ing over him, this is a serious offence!

Gem agrees to help him find his home but... They spend the day walking in circles with no success. Gem has to call it when it starts getting dark, but promises her friends might be able to help! They're all very smart.

And even they can't seem to find it. Their worst fear is the meadowlands and community of fairies has been washed away, spread apart by the water. That there's nowhere for Bdubs to go back to.

And it hurts. Bdubs won't show it, besides being snappy, but... It hurts a lot. He thinks, as he spends more time with the hermits, though that... Maybe he has a new family here?

[crybaby-bkg]

Under Wicked Charm

Dabi x f!reader

Warnings: smut, no quirks, demon sex, incubus Dabi, succubus reader, blood kink/play, dom/sub undertones (sub leaning Dabi), reverse cowgirl, deep throating, cunnilingus, dick piercing (ofc), aphrodisiacs, 69 position, implied age gap, unprotected sex, mentions of wings tail and horns, a bit of praise, creampies, brief mention of pregnancy. please let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: I’m so not used to writing a dom top but I’m TRYING okay lmfao I love reading it but don’t write it enough but how will I get better if I don’t write it more!!!! also this has been on my ao3 for a while I just got lazy uploading it here lol but pls enjoy!!

Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

also available on ao3!

The bar is darkly lit, a strobe effect being casted upon a crowd of people, drunk and high alike. It feels like everyone has been dancing for hours; feet sore, legs cramped, but somehow unable to stop themselves from grinding and groping, singing and screeching, until they drop. 

They don’t know that this is a club for the otherworldly. 

The fairies in the corner all snicker at the people who complain of the aches and pains, going round and round in circles, despite the stabbing pain they must feel in their toes. Dabi is all too familiar with it, after pissing a fae off once when he ghosted her. He can only imagine how the humans feel, being forced to dance this macabre number until they pass out from exhaustion. 

When that bores him, Dabi turns away from the crowd, rests on the bar in front of him. He whistles at the bartender, a witch who knows him all too well and the good stuff that he likes mixed in with his drinks. She nods to him before fixing it, and he catches her dumping something from one of her little vials into his drink, the black fume wallowing up and around her arm before she shakes it away, mixing it all in with a red straw. 

“You remembered,” He nods his head to her with a teasing grin, watches how she rolls her eyes as she pushes his drink over for him to catch. 

“And you never remember to pay your tab.” She quips back, but she can’t help the proud smile on her face when he downs half of it in one sip, groaning when he finally pulls the rim away from his wet lips. He licks the moisture away, before glancing up at her from under dark lashes. 

“What’s a tab again?” Dabi asks playfully, slinking away into the dance floor as she hollers for him to stop playing stupid when already is. He can’t help but snicker under his breath, sipping at his drink as he makes his way through the crowds of people until he finds the steps that lead up to the higher level, where the VIP sections are. He nods his head at Shigaraki, who sits in his section with his feet up and his phone in his hand, and instead of sitting with the boring fuckin’ crowd, Dabi leans on the railing that overlooks the lower section. 

He needs his meal for tonight. He’s gone a couple of days without feeding, mainly because he just didn’t feel like the hunt. It can become tiresome having to look for a potential meal; find someone suitable, desperate enough, flirting with them, convince them to take him home, screw them into their bedsheets, and flee before they could even wake up. He would much rather come in the night when someone is sleeping, but that proves to be a lot of work, too. 

So he looks into the crowd, ignoring the otherworldly people who want to spend a night with an incubus. His charm isn’t even as strong on them, so he doesn’t understand the hype of it all, plus he can’t even feed as well on them, so its really just a waste of time. 

But then, Dabi locks eyes with you. You’re in the middle of the dance floor, body turned, chin held up, as you stare at him from where he leans on the railing above. His eyebrows jump up in surprise, before he neutralizes his expression quickly. You were staring at him with such an intense look, he wondered if you were somehow other-kin that he hadn’t seen before. But you seem human for the most part, with a devilish little grin and tits to die for in your small top. 

Okay, color him intrigued. 

You dance amongst the people, although you don’t seem to be under the same spell as the people that the fae are fucking with. Your moves are sultry, all smooth and sweet and dripping sin off of your swaying hips like a leaky faucet. Dabi feels hypnotized, in a sense, as he watches you, taking another sip from his drink as he doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you. When you see his bright cerulean eyes drag up and down your body slowly, you grin even wider, and he fears he might see canines too sharp for a human mouth. But the imagery is gone before he can clock it, and he blames it on the potion that witch put in his drink. 

Dabi crooks his fingers at you, signaling for you to come to where he’s at, and you cock your head at him in response, a teasing little quirk of your eyebrow directed at him. He points to the stairs below, and feels a shiver rack up his spine with how you lazily drag your eyes from his face, to his hand, to the stairs, and back at his face. 

What the fuck is up with you, and why the fuck are you making him feel like this? Are you human? You look like it for the most part, but something about your allure makes him think that he’s in troubled waters and you’re the alligator ready to lock him tight inside your maw. 

Dabi blinks, and you’re gone. He doesn’t see you anywhere on the dance floor or the steps, and he wonders if he somehow scared you off. But then you tap at his shoulder blade, and it makes his head whip around faster than he thought it could. 

You’re even prettier up close. Your makeup is done up in such a way that your eyes look sharp, all shadowed depths creating dimensions that he feels like he might get lost in, your lips a deep plum color, your bottom lip just waiting to be bitten. 

“You ask me to come up here just to stare at me? I would’ve figured you had better game than this, Dabi.” Your voice is a low sultry tone, quiet despite the loud roars of the speakers in the club and—wait, how did you know his name? Dabi quirks a surprised eyebrow at you, pausing where he went to reach out for you, hand resting midair as he takes you in. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You couldn’t have been one of the humans he’s bedded once before; he would remember such an addicting face and voice if he did. You only shrug at him, saddling up to where he was leaning against the railing as now its your turn to overlook the people below. He watches you, follows your movements until your shoulders brush against each others, breath sucking in at the electrical zap that pulses through his body when his flesh skims yours. 

“You don’t know me, but I know you.” You flirt, winking at him and bumping him a little when he can’t take his eyes off of you. Dabi straightens out, clearing his throat a little as he tries to wrack his brain for every encounter he’s ever had where he could’ve seen you before. It’s rare someone knows him and he doesn’t know them in return, as being one who gets around due to his ‘line of work’. You baffle him, and you can tell how much the gears in his head are turning through the concentrated look that has fallen on his face. 

“Nice to formally meet you.” You tell him your name, reaching your hand out for Dabi to shake. He glances at it, and then your face, before he finally takes your hand in his own, squeezing the softness of your palm. He’d love to feel that wrapped around his dick tonight. 

“Tell me; what crazy fucking story have you heard about me to know me?” Dabi asks you, still holding onto your hand, now rubbing the backs of your knuckles with his thumb. Through the contact, he can start to release his pheromones, the shit that drives you humans crazy. While you won’t be able to smell it as much in the heady atmosphere of the club, it’ll sink into your skin, glide through your system until you feel high on the attention from him. And then after that—you’ll be wrapped around his finger and bouncing on his dick in no time. 

You go on speaking to each other for a while, flirtatious banter being exchanged between the two of you. You get closer throughout the night, from Dabi caressing your hand, to your own grazing the hair at his nape, to his chest pressed against yours, to your thigh straddling one of his as you press against each other. He thinks his charm has worked finally, if that hazy look in your eyes has anything to say about it. 

“Wanna get outta here?” Dabi asks you, his head tilted toward your own, his nose brushing against yours. Both of your arms are wrapped around his neck as you slowly sway to the beat, your hips grinding occasionally on his knee slotted in between your thighs. You nod, biting at your bottom lip, the lipstick you have on seemingly never budging and he makes it his mission tonight to smear it all over your face with his thumb and tip. 

“My place or yours?” You whisper to the air between your mouths, his hovering over yours, teasingly so. Dabi grins at that, warm hands squeezing once, twice at your hips. 

“Whatever’s closer.”

..

You come stumbling into your loft before you know it, clothes flying every which way. His boots are kicked off, and you still have a heel resting haphazardly on your ankle. His shirt rides up to his collarbones, and yours is somewhere left in a trail on the floor. You two can’t even make it to your bed, falling on the couch as Dabi pulls you on top of him, his hands gravitating instantly to your ass. He kneads the flesh in his hands, groaning under his breath when you start to rock your hips to no rhythm in particular, gasping inside of his mouth. 

You’re so intoxicating, so addicting, Dabi almost forgets that he’s the one in charge, that you’re the one under his spell, and not the other way around. It’s hard to remember that though, when his head starts to feel foggy and his limbs start to get too loose for him to not panic. 

Did you drug him? Even if you did, it would’ve burned through his body quicker than it would’ve dissolved in his drink. So why does he feel like this? Why does he feel like he’s the one under his own charm, like he’s a desperate bitch in heat that just wants to cum?

“What did you do to me?” Dabi asks groggily, laying his head down on a throw pillow behind him, disconnecting from your sweet mouth as he groans. He squeezes his eyes shut, starting to freak out internally, as an evil little giggle from you starts to float around the room. He doesn’t see the change happening in front of him, right on his lap, and only snaps his eyes open when your tone is way too devilish than any human should be. 

“Oh, little fledgeling, you have so much learning to do.” You purr to him, grinning, waving at him with sharp, black tipped, taloned fingers. 

What. The. Absolute Fuck?

“You’re a—a succubus?” Dabi asks, groaning again and clutching his sides when something pulses through him, something so strong and unwavering, that he has to shift his hips around to make sure he didn’t just cum on himself untouched. Your laugh floats throughout the room as you start rocking your hips against his, ignoring his almost pained groaned as you tilt your head back. 

“I’m a greater succubus, little fledgeling. Older than you could even comprehend.” You moan sweetly, taloned fingers starting to massage your tits from overtop your lacy bra. Dabi can only sit back and watch, dazed and confused and entirely too turned on to function as he takes all of you in. 

Your smile is wide, canines sharp and wicked where they rest just a few centimeter down from your bottom lip. Your irises an unnatural crimson, like stained blood, black horns twisting and twirling from your temples, tipped a dark purple like the stain on your lips. Your skin seems to have some glow underneath, a pulsing rhythm that correlates with the way you grind your hips into his, wings that span as wide as the room flapping and twitching with every little hiccuped gasp that comes up from his throat. They’re leathery and dark, just like the swishing, evil little forked tail that shoots out in front of Dabi’s nose, only to slyly trace the outline of his face, almost lovingly. 

You’re a sight that he’s never witnessed before, and for some reason, he feels blessed to have fallen under the trap of a greater succubus. 

“Why so shy now?” You ask him with a pout, leaning forward until your breast rests against his chest, nose to nose with him, your tail now rubbing the hairs on his eyebrows. Dabi sucks in a shaky breath, trying to regain his composure, the control he never actually had, and swallows thickly. 

“How did you disguise yourself so well?” He mutters, biting back a moan when you suck on the sensitive part under his jaw, hips still a slow rock on top of him. “We can always tell when someone is—when another one of us are—”

His brain is completely fried at the moment. Finds it hard to think, see, hear, and breathe with the way you tongue and nibble at his neck, with the way you put more pressure down on his pelvis with your own weight. He can feel his cock spurt against his thigh, fears he might cum without even directly touching you—but this was why he could never sleep with another succubus, especially not a greater one. 

You things were downright heathens, all tantalizing, all sweet and devilish little smiles, luring people in until you caught them with the honeyed trap between your thighs. But you—you were different. You were sin in and of itself, and Dabi doesn’t think that he could ever be a match for you. 

“That’s the power of being greater. I can disguise myself from anyone that I please, and I wanted to have just a bit of fun with my meal first.” He can hear the bite in your voice, the eery laughter bubbling up from your throat as you trace sharp canines against the flesh of his throat, threatening to bite. Dabi feels himself swallowing thickly before he can stop it, and you outright laugh at him as you sit up. 

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy and let me eat you?” You ask him breathily, tracing a sharp talon up his chest, grinning when he hisses at the trail of black blood you leave on his torso. Dabi glances at the trail, before meeting your blood red eyes, licking his lips as he nods slowly, gripping your hips tightly in his hands. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Dabi mutters to you, eyes now solely focused on the way your skirt rides up as you sit in his lap. But you demand his full and complete attention, talons gripping his cheeks to make him look you in the eye, as the other hand trails ribbons of black blood down the other side of his stomach. 

“Beg for it.” You demand of him, licking sweetly at the seam of his mouth and pulling away when his tongue darts out to greet yours. “Beg for me to fuck you, fledgeling.”

Dabi downright moans at the tone, at the authority laying in your voice. He’s always been the one in charge, always took control with the little humans he would charm. But you, you’re all power and control and commandment, and he can’t help but fall pray to a demon older than his own ancestors. 

“Fuck me.” Dabi spits at you, letting his own claws extend as he digs them into the skin of your thighs. You glance back at them, chuckling at the little beads of blood that he spills from you, gripping his face harder at the sheer audacity he could have with you. 

“Attitude, I see. A stubborn one.” You muse, turning his face to the side to lick up the blood that you’ve squeezed out from his cheek under your talon. Dabi hisses at the contact, and you can smell his pheromones trying to take over the aroma in the room. How cute, he’s trying so hard to be in control. 

You couldn’t wait to ruin him. 

You pull back quickly, hands reaching down quickly to shred him of his jeans, a big pile of his clothes and your own making a mess of the couch and floor. Dabi can’t even keep up with how quickly you work, your tail flickering out to knick at his boxers, entirely too close to his dick when you expose him. He hisses, before holding his breath when the forked tip of it hovers menacingly over his mushroomed head, sitting up on his elbows as he gets ready to throw you off of him. 

“Scared?” You tease with a smile, watching how his low cerulean eyes narrow at you when your tail soothes over the precum dripping down his shaft, so fake innocent. You knick the side of your panties until they fall into a heap in his naked lap, grinning when his eyes immediately zone in on how your sticky lips split open when you sit on his shaft. 

“Does your pussy have teeth? That would scare me,” Dabi snips at you, his voice low as he grips your hips to start making you grind along his shaft, this time with no barriers in between. But you scoff at him, digging your nails into his hand until he releases you with a hiss, quickly maneuvering your body until your ass is in his face and his cock is in yours. 

“Shut up, and put my pussy in your mouth already.” You throw over your shoulder with a little huff, giving him no time to process the beauty in front of him before you lick a long stripe down from his tip to his balls. Dabi groans hoarsely, head thrown back as he holds onto your ass for dear life. 

“Y’don’t have to keep using your charm on me,” He mutters, damn near miserable with how hard his cock is throbbing in your warm hands. But you only chuckle at him, waving your ass in his face for him to get to work already, as you dip your tongue in his cockhole. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” You ask him in a hum, mouthing at his tip before you suck his mushroom head in your hot mouth. Dabi hisses, holding your cheeks open until he’s greeted by the pretty sight of your sticky lips and twitching hole and cute rim. His eyes go low as he sniffs in the pheromones that drip onto his chest, mingling with the blood that slowly evaporates from his skin, your essence dripping and mingling into his very being. 

“Because I already want you.” Dabi mutters, shoving his face between your cheeks and holding them closed until they swallow his head. He licks at you, feverishly, feeling your charm overtaking him more and more as he’s engulfed in where the scent is strongest. He can’t stop his hips from bucking up into your mouth as your smell surrounds him, licking doggishly at your cunt, making you moan high in your throat. 

“Yeah? Well I want you pliant and susceptible, like the easy little thing you are.” You tell him, reaching a hand back to shove his head even further between your cheeks, grinding back on his face as he starts slurping on your hole, determined to taste every thing slips from you. 

You sigh, ducking down to bob your head on his cock, taking him in easily, like you’ve been sucking cock all of your life. And in a sense, he guesses that you really have. Dabi pulls back for a breath, spitting on your cunt and thumbing it into the arousal that drips from your inner thighs, licking it all back up slowly. 

“Did you just call me a slut?” He grunts, grinding his cock deep into your throat, head falling back momentarily when he realizes that you don’t have a gag reflex. Most sex demons don’t, but he doesn’t sleep with them regularly, and you’re also greater, so it makes the experience all the more euphoric. 

“Well if the slut panties fit,” You tease him, reaching back to shove his face back between your cheeks when you realize that he’s had enough air. Dabi doesn’t complain though, but he does whimper when you start fondling his balls in your hand at the same time you swallow around his shaft, nose buried into the pubes there. 

Dabi suckles at your clit, feeling your hole throb against his skin, reaching a hand up to start gliding a bony finger inside of you. Your sultry moan vibrates around his cock, and it twitches so violently, that he fears it might jump straight from your mouth. But you keep him in, humming around him, soft, warm hands tugging and tugging at his balls until his toes curl and he can only find it in him to lap at your cunt like a dog. 

You’re messy, where you suck him off, all loud slurps and gulps and swallows, the sound of spit dirtying his pubes. He can hear the sticky sounds of your hands jerking off his shaft when you pull off, how your throat closes around him, how you pull his prince Albert piercing with your teeth gently, how your fingers rub at the seam of his balls. It feels like all too much, like he can’t keep up, like he might burst from the inside and spray your entire little loft in cum and black blood. 

Before Dabi can even register that he’s coming, you pull your mouth off of him, moving around too quick for him to catch, and he damn near yelps when he feels another, tighter heat engulfing him. He struggles to peel his eyes open, mouth dropped lewdly at the sight of you riding him reverse cowgirl style while he still cums from you sucking him off. He’s too sensitive, and you’re too tight, and too mean, with how you look over your winged shoulder and laugh maniacally at the pitiful and pained expression on his face. 

“Aww, poor little fledgeling can’t keep up? How fucking pathetic.” You bite at him, hips and ass dropping quickly as you ride him. Dabi tries his damndest to keep up, to slow you down with the pumping of his pheromones, but at the moment, he can’t even tell up from down. Can only lay there as you take him, fuck him the way you said you would, tight and hot cunt clenching down around him with every drop of your hips. 

“This dick only good for little humans, huh? Can’t hang with a succubus, now can you, baby?” You tease, grinning, one hand on your lower back as you fuck yourself down on him, moaning when the pierced head of his cock grazes something soft inside of you. You press down on your lower stomach where you feel him, eyes fluttering shut as you take him for your own pleasure. 

“F-Fuck, slow down s-some,” Dabi stutters uncharacteristically, teeth grit as he can feel his own canines starting to protrude, losing all sense of stability as your cunt clamps down tight around his dick. You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you? With your tail reaching around and under you to keep rubbing over his tightening balls, with your wings fluttering in his face, with your sharp talon reaching back to trail more blood down his bellybutton, pooling in his lap. It creates a wet slapping sound where you drop your hips, and the feeling of his cum and blood now staining your cunt and inner thighs only makes you howl in pleasure. 

“Keep up or shut the fuck up, fledgeling. This is all for me.” You growl at him, your playful energy suddenly gone as you glare at him over your shoulder. It shouldn’t make his cock throb the way it does, but he listens to you. Only because he wants to cum again and feel how tight you’ll get around him, his head hazy and filled only with thoughts of you riding him until he passes out on your couch. 

Dabi does as told, clamping his mouth shut, breathing heavily through his nose as he struggles with keeping up with you. He can only hold onto your hips, and hope that you cum first this time, because he doesn’t think he can handle you still going after he’s cum for the second time. 

Luck seems to be on his side though, as he feels his balls tightening once more, but you start to lose your rhythm, hips stuttering against his, a wet kissing sound every time you drop down. Dabi picks up where you seem to slip off, hands clamped tight around your hips as he starts thrusting up into you, watching the bounce of your ass and how your tail doesn’t know what to do with itself at the height of your pleasure. 

“Fuck me, just like that, baby, just like that. Make me cum on this dick, cmon.” You growl through gritted teeth, eyes clamped shut as you throw your head back, voice staccato and a low growl. Dabi clenches his jaw, focused purely on bringing you over the edge as his orgasm creeps up closer in his lower belly. He reaches around your hip, strumming quickly and messily at your clit, hearing you whimper out before you start clamping down tight around him. 

“Shit!” You yelp, body jerking as you orgasm, cunt suffocating his cock as you keep riding him through the throes of pleasure. Dabi unclenches his jaw, canines scraping his chin as he growls at the feeling, his orgasm not too far behind as he keeps fucking you through it. He stills when the first rope of cum spurts inside of you, back arching off of the couch when evil little you moans and starts rubbing at his balls with every twitch of them. 

“That’s right, little fledgeling. Fill me up, just like that, doing so well,” the praise you sing to him gets to his head as you keep grinding on his lap and rubbing at his balls. He thinks he might’ve cum dry at some point, his cock kicking inside of you despite not feeling any extra leaking from his tip. His eyes are screwed shut, his body pulled taut, finally collapsing into a heap on the couch when you stop riding and fondling him. 

Dabi swears he hears you say something about being knocked up with little incubus and succubus babies now thanks to him, but he’s out like a light before the words can even register in his head. 

…

When Dabi wakes up the next morning, he thinks that it might’ve all been a dream, that his sins are finally starting to catch up with him. But you’re standing in the kitchen across the open layout of your loft, in nothing but a pair of panties, your wings and horns and tail still on display and just as grand as he remembers. He groans, head falling back onto the pillow he slept on, as you perk up at the sound of him. 

“Good morning, little fledgeling.” You singsong, pulling out a few things from the fridge as you smile in his direction when he pokes his bedhead up from over the back of the couch. He looks so adorable like that, you think. 

“Breakfast will be ready in twenty.” You tell him, bringing flame underneath the pan in front of you with a snap of your finger. Dabi squints at you, frowning, as he checks the clock on your kitchen wall that’s framed by a black cat. Hm, cute. 

“I’m not hungry, and plus, I should be getting out of here.” Dabi groans, standing, uncaring of his naked state as you obviously don’t either. You both glance at each others bodies, before you turn from him, tutting under your breath. 

“I don’t think so.” You declare, scrambling the eggs before you, speaking up when Dabi opens his mouth to protest. “You’re going to stay here and eat, because you need your energy.” At that, he quirks a brow, strolling leisurely to you as he scratches his stomach, wrapping a finger around your curious tail when he gets close enough. 

“Energy for what?” He asks, grunting in surprise when your tail suddenly pulls him in, his front against your back as you look at him from over your shoulder with a devilish smile that makes his cock twitch against your ass. 

“Round two.” You say simply with a shrug before going back to the eggs. Dabi can only blink, before he shrugs with a nod. 

“Round two doesn’t sound bad at all.” 

[amalthea-felsblood]

Name: Feothan Aliases: Feo/The Winged Fury Gender: Female Orientation: Straight Age: 32 Height: 5'6'' (when standing upright) 1'8'' (bird shift) Build: Average/Slender Skin Tone: Pale/Fair Hair: Natural red Eyes: Pale blue/Grey

Identifying Marks: Freckles /Old battle scars

Appearance: From a distance, Feothan would seem like a normal looking Elezen maiden until, upon closer inspection, you would notice her winged arms (if she has shifted her arms into wings) a second set of ears and her thin bird legs. When shifting into her smaller bird form, she would almost resemble a pixie or fairy. Feothan mainly wears tribal attire but has always been fascinated by the outfits that hyur's wear.

Personality: Feothan is very kind and gentle, but she is also feral and fierce. She will do anything to protect herself and others by any means. She is very curious and loves to find/keep anything shiny, but this can show more of her spoiled side if she can't get what she wants. Feothan loves to sing to the forest and the creatures who live within it.

Backstory: Feothan was born apart of a very large scream of violent and mischievous harpies. Although she had never felt like one of her kin, she took no pleasure in killing needlessly nor in the luring of hyur's to their deaths. Instead, she pitied them. As time went on, the rest of her scream began to take notice of her behavior and saw her as the weak link in the chain. They would not stand for it any longer. One day, without warning, as Feothan was hunting in the forest, the sky suddenly started fading to black and loud screeching could be heard. Feothan turns to face the sky, her eyes widened with great fear as she saw her kin coming for her with weapon's readied and aimed. Without a second thought, she quickly puts away her bow and shifts her arms back into wings. She flies below the canopy lines of the forest, dodging the arrows that rain upon her at every angle until she is struck. An arrow pierces her left wing, and it sends her into a spiral as she falls into the seaside cliffs below the forest, the scream circles above until they are convinced she perished to the fall. But fate was on Feothan's side that day, for as she fell into the jagged rocks she was lucky enough to be caught by a few extending roots from the forest above. Wounded and out of breath, Feothan waited until she could no longer hear her kin in the skies before starting the climb down to the shoreline, but with each painful movement she began to fade in and out of consciousness. Finally reaching the bottom of the cliffs, she quickly looks for another forest for rest and recovery. Holding her wounded arm, she makes her way from the beach and into the safety of this new and unknown area. After a bit of restless searching, Feothan finds a nearby forest and tucks herself inside a hollowed tree where she collapses from the pain and exhaustion. Now her tale truly begins as she starts her life anew alone and wounded but alive and willing to believe in fate and what it may bring her.

Top portrait by @thebrumeknight-ffxiv ❤

I'll be posting about her abilities and her other forms next but I hope you enjoy what I've written so far!

[fairfoxie]

hi!! i was wondering if i could get your perspective on something, as i really respect the resources you share about being faekin and i want to know more about it! i am irish reconstructionist pagan who works with the good folk, and i admit that i often have trouble reconciling my religious beliefs with 'kin posts that i see. i was wondering, if you felt comfortable responding, what your perspective on the clash that sometimes occurs between faekin and the cultural evolution of the fairy archetype is? if this is offensive i apologise and absolutely did not mean it as such! i'm still relatively new to the nonhuman community (my nonhuman blog is foxwyrm!) and am trying to learn more about it :} regardless, i love your blog, and appreciate what you share!!

Hi! I'll start by saying this is not even a little bit offensive! I know you're asking a question in earnest and I'm honestly really grateful to get the opportunity to voice my perspective.

And really, I wasn't sure at first how to approach all of this at all. My brain and beliefs are scattered, and to be quite honest I make it up as I go along. That's why I used to be petrified of doing any kind of spirit work, especially with the Good Folk. So only recently have I combined my own Neopaganism with my Otherkin experiences. I am still learning. But I'm learning a lot, especially now from others who walk a similar path.

I'll admit I had to look up just to make sure I understood what an Irish Reconstructionist Pagan is, and it seems to be exactly what I was hoping it would be! I may not be strictly of that faith myself, but I'm highly grateful that there are people who are, who keep that alive. I'm so fascinated by pre-Christian Celtic faiths and I do wish it were easier to find the old stories. But stories survive through people, and I enjoy sharing videos I've found where Irish people who coexist with the Good Folk, talk earnestly about their faith and how it impacts their lives. I think those collective experiences are very real and important and culturally valuable. I see parallels in our perspectives, when they speak of mutual respect and of leaving nature undisturbed. I highly value the words of the people who live where there are said to be Faeries.

Still I'd hesitate to discuss being faekin with someone of that particular tradition. I do get overcome with doubt and worry about myself. Is my very existence disrespectful? Just yesterday I ran off into the woods in tears with a question of who, what, am I?

I have discussed being Otherkin with the trees before. I'm an animist at heart, and I like to keep company with the friendly spirits of trees often.

Tree spirits are good listeners, and they understand the humans they live with. When I talk to the trees, I don't have to explain what I am. I show them. They understand. They accept me. They don't judge or argue, and they accept strange contradictions like me being human and nonhuman at the same time.

I see lots of things in the forest. Things that renew my belief in magic every time in different ways. I have hardly a choice but to believe in all manner of beautiful spirits, fae big and small, even gods. I believe in monsters too, but I believe in myself more, and I value my autonomy, and so I choose not to let my spirit be harmed.

And because I value my autonomy, I am drawn to the Otherkin community, where you don't have to have all the answers, just be who you are and you will be accepted in the best of our circles. We respect each other's minds, bodies, and spirits, and each of us walks a parallel but completely different path into ourselves. I'm glad there are others like me, who don't know why they are nonhuman in some way, just that they are, and that we have carved out a space in which to exist as we are.

I don't have all the answers, and probably never will. But I find little congruencies that allow me to slip through the cracks between what is and isn't. Here are some of them.

Many Faeries do look like humans. Changelings of course, and selkies, and Hulder and Skogskra, and nymphs and elves and many others. And much folklore seems to have it that people who seem to be human turn out to be Fae.

But I was born to humans, I know that for sure. And as such, I consider myself a Human Fairy. Of sorts. Like I said, I value my autonomy, and my right to say what I am and be what I am.

For me, the difference between a Faery and a Fairy is that Faeries are the beings that already existed, living at arm's length from most humans for most all time. We only remotely understood them back then, we only remotely understand them now. But we respect them, and many do respect us back and seek friendships with us.

The Fairy, on the other hand, is that cultural archetype you were talking about. A Fairy can be created by a human, it can be a human, it can be a character, and most importantly, it can be the link between people and magic. I have an affinity for pixies and pillywiggins, flower fairies, gnomes, brownies, dryads, sylphs, and all manner of tiny winged beings of nature, and yes, Tinker Bell, who was my personal introduction to the Fairy world, and the idea that there are magical beings who live in another world but also interact with our world. My first 'kin feels' would have been daydreaming myself in Pixie Hollow/Fairy Haven as a tiny fairy with wings and a talent, just the same way Prilla blinks to the Mainland. I still clap sometimes, because I do believe in Fairies.

And I think that the spirit world contains multitudes. I think it contains Faeries and Fairies all at once, and that thoughtforms, spirits, fae, and gods are all a big part of what makes humanity who we are in the first place.

And even still, I don't know if I have all of my facts and beliefs straight. But I know that I don't have to. If I waited until I understood myself completely before going and living my life, I'd simply never get the chance to. And so I just go live it. As I get older I care less about the labels and more about the experiences. But I love being a Fairy. I love being Otherkin. And I love talking to the kindest of the Good Folk. And I'll love this whether or not I will ever fully understand any of it.

I truly hope this is something like the answer you were hoping for.

[versegm]

“Man! What a match, huh?” The foreign master is grinning from ear to ear, taking off her baseball uniform. “I hope we get to face each other off again next year! This was so much fun!”

The uniform she’s changing into is one from Chaldea. The black one, to be precise. The one you’ve been wearing through every lostbelt so far. She recognized Mandricardo earlier. She’s been almost as far as you. She’s seen almost as much as you do. She’s worked so hard, gotten so far, and she has-

failed.

No command spell ornate her hand. Liz, waiting for her outside, will surely dissolve with the singularity. This master, this you from another world, is alone.

“Well, this is a goodbye.” She concludes, buttoning her shirt all the way up. “See you later-!”

She moves to leave the lockers, but you grab her arm first.

“You don’t need to leave.” You tell her hurriedly. “There’s space in the Border. We could use a backup Master, even. We could-”

She smiles at you, and you end your sentence here. It’s not like her earlier smile. This one is very small, and very sad. You know that smile. You know it because it’s your face. You know it because she’s you.

She cannot stay here. She cannot stay anywhere. Such is the curse of Musashi’s kin, of these survivors from pruned timelines- doomed to hop from world to world, never to stick around.

The woman suddenly reaches up, to your face. Fingers graze your cheek.

“Give me something to remember. Please.” And then, a little quieter: “it is so cold out there, and I have been so lonely.”

A pang of hurt ripples through your soul. You understand. You understand. You can barely imagine a life without your servants around, without at the very least the comfort of the suitcase by your side. Such a fate would have been torture to you- and therefore must be torture to her, now.

You lean down, and catch her lips between her own. The kiss is brief, but heated, not so much lust as hunger, as the desperate need to remember the touch of another human.

When the two of you part, she rests her head against your chest, breathing heavily.

“... Give me a name.” She mutters eventually. “That, I can carry with me.”

You think back to Fairy Britain. That’s a heavy responsibility, a name- identity and duty all into one. You are no magician. You do not have clairvoyance. All you can do is pick a sound you like, and hope it gives her a better fate to look forward to. “How about Rokka?”

“Rokka… Yes. Yes, I’ll remember that.” She tilts her head and looks up at you. “You’ll take care of them, right? Our beloveds.”

“Of course.” Your servants have died so many times for your sake already. And it will happen again. But you can’t let it be for good. You can’t. You can’t.

“You have to survive this. You can’t end up like me. It sucks. You have to live through this.” Her hands clench around the fabric of your shirt. “One of us has to. One of us has to make all these corpses worth it. One of us has to make all our corpses worth it. You have to live through this.”

You circle your arms around her, and hold her tightly. “I’ll… do my best.”

“Hey. Listen.” She tilts her head up to look at your face. “I know you don’t like yourself very much. I know because I don’t like myself very much. We have done terrible things. Nothing will ever change that.” She reaches up to take your chin again. “But I know you love me. I know because it is in your nature to love. So believe me when I say this: no matter what happens, whether you succeed or fail, whether you are victim or murderer, I love you. ”

You know. You know. You know. You want to say so, but your throat feels swollen.

She smiles again, a bittersweet thing. “I’ll cherish the name you gave me. Try to forget it though, alright?”

She gets on her tiptoes, presses her lips against yours, and-

-You wake up in a jolt, safely nestled in your bed back in Novum Chaldea.

Slowly, you raise a hand to touch your lips. Then, with a huff, you throw an arm over your eyes.

“Idiot.” Hot tears are gathering at the corners of your eyes. “Of course I’ll remember you.”

[closingwaters]

TIMING: A few weeks ago

PARTIES: @fromnewashes @closingwaters

SUMMARY: Teagan is enjoying herself under the influence of a mushroom ring, and attempts to lure Kit in when she walks by.

WARNINGS: Not drugs per say, but inebriated with magic

The air felt as if it shimmered, the wind sending the leaves into a frolic and a dance. Like music set to a tone only they could hear. Teagan was mesmerized, spinning herself in circles in tandem with the hues of green, red, and yellow until she grew too dizzy to stand. She giggled and fell to the ground, sighing happily as her skin met the cold grass. Not much could beat a mushroom haze and a lie down in nature, and Teagan couldn’t really see herself venturing away from the ring. 

At least not very far or for very long. She needed to bring Arden, of course. Perhaps maybe even Regan, if the stick up her ass hadn’t gotten lost. “Ha!” The very thought sent Teagan upright in a giggle fest, the speed of which almost made her too dizzy to realize someone else was nearby. Oh! Delightful! Perfect!

“Oi! You! You mighty beaut! C’mere! Got something to show you.” She pointed at the mushroom ring with a grin, rolling over her shoulder to stand upright. Again, a dizziness overtook her senses, but it didn’t take long for Teagan to center herself and approach the stranger. “You ever seen one of these? A ring of mushrooms?”

Kit had been around a while, albeit in an ‘off and on’ type way. There were times she envied people who got a ‘nonstop train’ method to immortality, times where she mourned losing years to repeating childhood over and over again. There were certainly times where she felt pretty bitter about having to continuously relive puberty, because that sucked no matter how many times you did it. But… she was glad to be what she was, anyway. Death was a lot less terrifying when you knew it was the kind of thing you’d come back from.

She liked to think the ‘start-stop’ form of immortality made her a little less prone to growing disinterested, too. She still liked the fall foliage, even though she’d seen it a million times in a hundred different places. The colors were beautiful, no matter how many times you saw them. Kit made it a point to check them out now that she was in Maine, which was well known for such sights. 

But, of course, she was in Wicked’s Rest, Maine, which was known for other things as well. Not to the uninformed, not to people who weren’t ‘in the know,’ but certainly to Kit. She’d been around a while, and she was familiar with fae. She knew the kind of chaos this time of year could bring to them. So, when she saw a woman in the woods, giddy and excited, she had some ideas. When the woman pointed out a mushroom circle with excitement, those ideas solidified a little. Kit smiled faintly, nodding her head. “You know, some people call those fairy circles.” It was casual, though she watched the stranger for a reaction. “It’s a prettier name, isn’t it?”

—

There was no hum, no delightful collection of buzzes thrumming beneath the fae's skin to signal that the stranger before her was kin. And yet, she knew of the rings. Her answer was a little vague, but it was enough to interest Teagan a little further. Perhaps there was some fun to be had. Fae were the nix's favorite, but strangers were a close second. They were the best to trick. 

“No, no! Not at all.” Teagan trilled with delight and a small scrunch of her nose. “Where I'm from, we call ‘em cylch y tylwyth teg.” The words rolled off her tongue with a heavy Welsh lilt, eyes brightening happily. 

So much of fae lore got skewed and rearranged through word of mouth over the centuries, but one thing remained the same. The rings were magical and were to be respected, and what better way to do that than bring others to appreciate such magnificence? Teagan stepped a little closer to the woman and wiggled her fingers over toward the ring to motion all the attention there. 

“The stories still travel ‘round about these lovely creations. From Scotland, to Wales, to Ireland. They've been here far longer than you or I. Nature beckons itself to be known.” A fond mist coated Teagan's eyes, expression tilting into one of indulgent adoration. “Ya wanna go in? See if there's that magic? You never know what you're gonny get! They talk about good luck and blessings and fortune! Along with the direct opposite of course.” Teagan shrugged with a snort. “Ye just never know. It's a flip of a coin, really!”

In earlier lifetimes, when she had less to go off of, this was the sort of thing that might have worked on her. Kit had always been curious, always been drawn to things — to people — that she didn’t understand entirely. When she’d been Katherine, or Kitty, or Kat, she’d been far easier to bind. Thank yous and promises had rolled off her tongue any time she thought they might get her what she wanted, never realizing that they could be twisted and used against her. She’d learned it the hard way, of course. It had taken a few binds before she’d learned to check herself, carefully choosing her words. It wasn’t until she’d begun befriending fae that she’d understood the why of it, of course. But at this point, several lifetimes in, she liked to think she knew… most of the tricks. The basic ones, at least. She’d never pretend to know everything. (At least, not in the privacy of her own mind.)

Languages were another thing she’d picked up through lifetimes, another thing she retained each time she was born anew. Yoruba had been the first she’d learned, back in her very first attempt at life, taught to her by her mother’s soft words as she grew. Others came later as she moved around. Welsh had been a few lifetimes in, when she’d been reborn in England and migrated to Wales. She smiled faintly at the woman’s use of it now, shrugging a shoulder. “Which translates to ‘the fairy circle,’” she pointed out, sounding more amused than anything. “Roedd yn ymgais dda.” 

She wasn’t offended by the presumed fae’s attempt to draw her into the fairy circle. Kit understood that some things were instinctual, understood that being something other than human came with caveats that humanity couldn’t quite understand. People often expressed disgust at sirens��� cravings for hearts between their teeth, too; it was easy to judge when you’d never felt the yearning for it. Kit knew she was in no position to judge, and she made no attempt to do so… but she also wasn’t going to get pulled into a mushroom circle. She had too much going on as it was.

“I prefer to make my own luck, actually. Never been a fan of mushroom-shaped shortcuts.” Well. Except for a few concerts in the sixties, perhaps. But the less that was said about those, the better. “Maybe you should look around for someone else. I’d be happy to help you convince someone who isn’t me to do a little dance in the circle with you.” She’d heard plenty of stories about the effects of fairy circles on humans, but she’d never seen it firsthand. And, now that she was standing in front of one, the curiosity was tugging at her chest. Wasn’t there scientific discovery to be made here? It wasn’t the kind that would hurt anyone. The fae seemed nice enough. Whatever stranger she drew into the circle would be fine, wouldn’t they? Even if they weren’t, it would be more their own fault than it would anyone else’s. And who could be upset at Kit for that?

—

Ah. A lady that knew her Welsh. A hard find in the states, and though she was attempting to correct the nix, Teagan was inclined to let that slide. “Semanteg.” She rolled her eyes with a playful smile, “Things hardly translate exactly the same, and English is shite anyway, don’t ya think?” 

Chuckling, Teagan tapped her chin and rolled her neck, considering the way the stranger miffed her attempt to lure her in. She was no fae, but she could still be an other. Or simply a human that knew more than the rest of her kind. Teagan knew better than to underestimate knowledge, so she tread the conversation lightly.

“I can definitely respect the work you put in for your own luck, but I didn’t say there would be shortcuts. Those hardly come with consequences, do they? Unless you’re real into morality, then the consequence is ‘only hurting yourself,’ yada, yada, yada.” Teagan blew a raspberry and spun herself in a circle, letting the world blur briefly while she contemplated on the offer to find another victim. “I’m considering your idea.” She chirped, not waiting long to nod. She was well-practiced in her binds, and now she had an accomplice. Willing or not. 

“I accept your offer! Where should we look first?”

“Mmm, that’s very true,” Kit relented with a nod. Few things translated perfectly, even if the meaning was the same. It had been a thing of frustration some lifetimes ago, when she was still learning how to express herself in each new language she picked up. Now, a dozen or so lives in, she was skilled in it. Kit knew how to get her point across, no matter what language the situation required of her.

She was good at this kind of thing, too. Turning attention away from herself when she needed it somewhere else, throwing other people under the bus to save herself. She wasn’t ‘real into morality,’ as the fae had put it, though she’d sometimes tried to be. It was easier to look after yourself than it was to look after other people. You couldn’t count on other people not to do something stupid to ruin your efforts, after all, couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t recklessly throw themselves into danger no matter how many times you worked to pull them out of it. And Kit had learned that if you weren’t looking out for yourself, you couldn’t rightly count on anyone else to do it for you, either. 

So she had no problem with the concept of handing someone else over to this fae. She was a woman who chose her words carefully. She never made an offer she didn’t have intentions of keeping. “Suppose we’ll have to go into town,” she replied thoughtfully. “If you want options, that is. If you’d rather wait around here and see who stumbles in, that’s fine, too. Who knows what you might get stuck with that way, though.”

—

Being right always felt…well, right! A smile, knowing and victorious lit up the fae's eyes. She was greedy for the sensation, excited at the prospect of feeling the buzz spread further with each victory. Thanks to the woman's willingness to help, Teagan would venture into the ring again, with a victim in tow!

“There's something exhilarating about a hunt! But are we gonny allure them to that beautiful ring?” Her eyes wandered as colors fluctuated in vibrancy and intensity, making Teagan unconsciously sigh dreamily. She shivered from delight, unable to reorient herself back to the conversation for several moments. Her mismatched eyes fluttered with recognition as they met the woman's again, and took a deep breath to retain that renewed focus. 

“I do have a way with words!” She chirped, stepping closer with excitement. “Can promise a good time in the woods. A party, in a way!” A giggle escaped Teagan, along with a small snort. “Of sorts. Wouldn't be a lie, aye?” She giggled at the rhyme, thinking of Felix. “What do you say, um…well, I'm sorry. I never got your name?”

Maybe she shouldn’t have been entertaining this. Fae weren’t always quite themselves with things like this, and without a baseline for this particular nymph, Kit had no way of knowing if this was the sort of thing she might regret later. But the phoenix had little time to worry about the consciences of strangers, little desire to rein herself in for the benefit of someone she didn’t know. So long as it didn’t affect her, she’d do whatever felt right in the moment. Right now, that meant throwing some stranger under the bus to keep herself away from its wheels. No one could fault her for it.

“I’m sure you can convince them,” she hummed, unbothered by the question. Were she a normal siren instead of a phoenix, she could compel a stranger with her voice. But with the fiery aspect of her physiology came a weakened version of the siren’s call, and she hadn’t practiced it in years now. She doubted it would be effective enough to convince anyone to follow the fae into the ring unless they already wanted to do it, anyway. 

That part could fall on the nymph, then. She could bind someone into following her easily enough, after all, or promise them a party as she’d said. “Sure, I doubt they’ll have a bad time.” Not consciously, in any case; from what Kit understood, the mushroom circles filled both parties with an artificial euphoria. “Well, I’m not going to give you my name, but I don’t mind telling you what it is. I’m Kit. How about you? Name as nice as the face?”

—

Ah. A woman that knew how to deal with fae. With her offer to help and her inclination to cause a little trouble, Teagan could withhold any anxiety that she may be a hunter. There was no way she could be. Not a good one, at least. Well, possibly good in the way she’s luring Teagan into a different location, but not good in the sense of morality. Or maybe that was the trick! Clever! Or…no. The nix couldn’t really bring herself to think about it too much anymore.

“Got some good wits about ya, Kit.” Teagan grinned excitedly, leaning just a bit closer, pupils all but blown out from the effects of the circle. “I’m Teagan Myrick of Hay-On-Wye, Wales. Figure a more formal introduction fit considerin’ ya speak my tongue. Ever been that way? I…” Eyes wandered away and Teagan’s voice trailed off. Her lids fluttered at the sensation that crawled up her back, and her breath shuddered as she smiled, a bit bewildered. The ring beckoned her to cook up some chaos and feast on it. She couldn’t help but oblige, though she needed to find some focus first.

Teagan blinked a few times, looking left, then right, then left again, before finally going back to Kit. “If I get a bite, ya think I can get a taste of why you got such a flavored sense? Or will I just find myself waitin’ or wantin’ to take one? Don’t mind either way. Just…consider me incredibly intrigued at my new partner in crime.”

“So I’ve been told,” she hummed, looking pleased with herself. Kit had never needed anyone to tell her she was smart. It was something she’d known all her life, a thing she used to define herself. Even when she was confident of nothing else, she was confident in her own intelligence. She was smart, and that mattered. She was smart, and she knew it. Still… it never felt bad to get a compliment from a pretty woman, especially when the compliment in question was about her mind instead of her beauty. (She was beautiful; she knew that, too.) 

She nodded as the woman — Teagan — introduced herself. “Not in a while,” she admitted. “I was in Wales some time ago. Picked up the language while I stayed. I like languages.” It was a sanitized version of things, of course; a story in which she wasn’t some version of immortal, because she wasn’t sure how much to trust a nymph who’d tried tricking her into a mushroom circle. Teagan probably wouldn’t sell her out to a hunter, but who knew what else might be on the table? Fae were tricky. Kit had learned that one the hard way.

She tensed a little as Teagan questioned her, though she took note of the way the nymph so carefully made sure they were alone first. A good sign, she thought. “Well, I’m not opposed to biting, but I don’t like to do that sort of thing out in the open.” She punctuated it with a wink, tilting her head slightly. She wasn’t quite ready to give herself away yet; maybe after their ‘game’ was finished, when she was sure Teagan was satisfied with someone else in that circle.

—

A smile crept daintily onto the nymph's face. She liked the game she was playing, enjoyed how Kit kept her wanting. Satisfaction often amplified with a bit of prolonged desire. Teagan scrunched her nose playfully and hummed. “Well…” Tapping her chin in faux thought, she spun on her heel and snatched Kit's hand into hers with a tug. “Anyone that fancies Wales enough to learn its language deserves a little trust. I'll hold off on the biting until we're alone.” 

That kind of was typically ill-advised with a stranger that knew so much, but Teagan couldn't really bring herself to care. Her mind was filled with a need for a game or two, or three. Or several. Kit didn't seem opposed to the idea either, and the nix wondered how many games they could get up to. And it looked like Teagan wouldn't have to wait for an answer for long when she heard a few voices. 

With an experimental tug to Kit's hand, she took a step toward a group of unsuspecting people. “Look!” She half-whispered to Kit, excited at the prospect of sating the circle behind the pair. “Maybe I won't have to wait long for that bite after all.”

Teagan didn’t push, and Kit was grateful for it even if she knew better than to say the words. Had the nymph insisted upon learning more, Kit was plenty capable of dancing around answers. You didn’t live as many lifetimes as she had without learning how to deflect, after all. But it was always a little tiring, and she much preferred to avoid it. It was more fun to flirt and talk about nothing than it was to worry that she’d give away too much. The last thing she ever wanted was to mess up and say something real.

In any case, it seemed Teagan would get what she’d wanted from the interaction. She may not have been able to convince Kit into the mushroom circle, but the sound of approaching voices meant she’d likely be able to convince someone. And Kit, so long as it got her off the hook, was more than happy to help.

Flashing the nymph a grin, Kit nodded. “Let’s find you a party,” she agreed, slipping off in the direction of the voices. She wasn’t sure what Teagan planned to do when she lured the strangers into the circle, but she found she didn’t care. For her, everything would be fine. That was all that really mattered.

[fair-city-packs]

so. not feeling really coherent right now so i'm just gonna say some vibes and see what yall take from it.

draft horse, appaloosa horse, koi ponds, marimos, chess with emphasis on the knight piece, fairy circles.

Greetings! Thanks for requesting! Hope it's to your liking!

⭐

A Spaceship Has Brought Your Delivery!

Name(s): Rue. Brighton, Glyn, Fern, Lancelet, Appaloosa, Spot, Spots, Pond

Pronouns: Spot / He / It / Moss / Pond / Apple / Draft / Knight / Chess / Horse / Run / Fae

Would you like suggested neopronouns?: Yes

Gender(s): Masculine, male, non-binary, mossgender, koigender, koiboy, floragender, biogender, naturegender, faunagender, equusgender 

Would you like suggested xenogenders?: Yes

Orientation(s): Strayt, enbyhet, monospec, NBLW, MLW, XLW, contraic, trixic

Age(s): Adult, twenties

Species: Fairy

Source(s): N/A

Role(s): Faunin, protector, swordsperson, social protector, knight, creature carer

Kin(s) (Optional): Horsekin, Draft Horsekin, Appaloosa Horsekin

Personality traits/details: Honest, protective, thoughtful

Likes: Fish keeping, nature hikes, gardening, running, ponds, and other bodies of water

Dislikes: Assuming things, dishonesty, messes, tight clothing, spicy food

Sign Off: 🐎🧚

Extra details: Favorite color is green. Had otherkin awakening in teen years. Has a pet marimos.

Faceclaim: N/A

Would you like a picrew?: Yes

Picrew

Have a good day! Also, just as reminder, it's okay to deviate from source, it's okay to not be anything like source, or be totally like source, or something in-between! I hope spot works wonders in your system! - ⭐

[socialmediasocrates]

YOUR PRINCESS IS IN A DIFFERENT CASTLE: a wip intro

Genres: fairy tale retelling, fantasy, adventure, romance, new adult

Status: plotting

Tropes: Knight in Sour Armor, Earn Your Happy Ending, The Power of Love, Don't You Dare Pity Me!, Boy Meets Girl, Girl in the Tower, Be Careful What You Wish For

In short: Two unremarkable side characters try to rescue their love interests from a demon who doesn't even know who they are...oh, yeah, and save the storyscape, that, too.

Synopsis

The starborn is among the last of its kind, doomed to a lonely eternity in the Graveyard of the Stars...or it was. Until a kitchen runner accidentally summoned it and botched the entire ritual. Now the starborn is Aster, a pathetic little man with an equally pathetic little crush. Grappling with suddenly having humanity thrust upon it was not in the Design. Being a nameless filler character in a story it doesn't even know was not in the Design. Inheriting an infatuation with Theobroma Cirolla, a pastry chef with the temperament of a wet cat on a good day, was not in the Design. But the starborn is making a valiant effort at doing all of the above, all the way until the day one of his own kin devours his story, steals Theo away, and casts him into the broader storyscape.

Forced to join forces with shepherdess-turned-witch Beata, Aster strikes out to save Theo, go back to his quiet, unbothered existence, and save the fabric of reality, in that order. None of this was in the Design, but the Design is unraveling. Along with his last goddamn nerve.

Characters

ASTER

The food runner was squishy where he wasn't gangly and bony, unevenly freckled all over, the image of earnest mundanity. It takes the starborn a solid week to get used to using these clumsy, slow feet, and nearly a week longer to adapt to the surprising strength of the arms and upper back. It trips over Aster's uselessly long legs all too often, sending trays laden with foot and drink scattering, shattering, and splattering all over rugs that look expensive. Nobody even seems surprised by this. At least it's slotting itself neatly into Aster's life.

THEO

Aster had thought the pastry chef called "Theobroma Cirolla" or "Theo, unless you want a finger chopped off" was the most beautiful person he'd ever laid eyes on. This, unfortunately, colors the starborn's perception of her, too. She is small, even for a human. Soft, composed entirely of curved lines and circles. The hair that peaks out from beneath her scarves is densely curly and roughly the color of melted chocolate. Her eyes are big and brown and ringed with heavy, dark eyelashes, and her skin is always a little flushed from the ovens. She refuses to lift her chin to look him in the eye. She is always looking up at him through that screen of eyelashes, and she is always looking at him like he's a cockroach in her bread basket. And the entire time, it is endlessly, hopelessly charmed.

BEATA

He thinks that you would end up with someone that looks like her if you took a cloud, dipped it in gold glitter, and sculpted a person out of it. The mystery woman has puffy wheat-blonde hair and deeply tanned skin and, most crucially, a shepherd's crook that bleeds magic. It is nearly blinding to look at. He has to blink four times for his sight to clear enough to make her out again; by then, he's more or less determined to avoid her at all costs. She is perched on a fence, waving to get his attention, a welcoming smile edged with venom on her face and a feral sort of panic in the tension of her shoulders. He wants nothing to do with her. Because life is never about what he wants, though, she is directly in his path.

FAUST

Now, give a good think to what you would do in Faust's shoes. You made a deal with a demon because you wanted people to like you better. It blew up in your face. The demon is now threatening to unravel the fabric of reality and ascend to godhood, and you are being rescued at this exact moment. If you think that you'd be a little grateful, it's because you're not Faust. Faust grins one of those stupid grins. He holds up some twisted chunk of metal in his hand and opens his mouth to say something. He never gets to, though, because Beata throws her shoe at him.

[scr-ppup]

Minecraft ender dragon flag

Blank / Hearttype

kintype

These flags are exclusive to the fictionkin / kiths within the Alterhuman / Therian community !

(( .. Coined by [ The Seeker ] aka primuscapere ))

[ ID start .. four identical rectangular 7 striped flags on two different rows with different symbols; first row has a blank flag and hearttype symbol, the second row has the basic therian and kintype symbols. The colors go black, dark muted purple, grey, off white creme, grey, dark muted purple, black. The circle of the flag supports eight horns two on top, two on side turned upwards, four on the side of the snout turner downward, leather wings and a snout in only lineart. ]

[ Hearttype symbol ID .. a heart that ends with a diamond on the inner side of it with a circle clipping through it .. Hearttype symbol ID ]

[ Kintype symbol ID .. a seven pointed star of elven / fairy star .. Kintype symbol ID ]

[ PT .. coined by [ the seeker ] aka primuscapere .. pt end ]

Tags - @kin-flags

[ask-tssb]

Has anyone lost a loved one? How did you handle the burial/memorial? Are there some types of burials that humans can't participate in due to their lack of a core?

Myu: Um... I don't know... I think my mother would have liked to be buried near our tree... Maybe... maybe I should have gone back... maybe I should go back and... bury her.

Caroline: We cremated Jean-Marie's Core and spread him across the plains with the winds. When you cremate a Core, it just incinerates into raw magic. It's just... we return the people we love back to the earth we came from as quickly as possible.

Roxanne: I haven't lost any of my immediate family members, thankfully, but any direct interactions with magic are pretty lost on us. I seem to recall ancient humans being buried with magical artifacts, though...

Matt: When ol' Dougie passed -- he was the leader of our village back in Galar -- his Core was wrapped in the finest wool anyone could weave. His herd stood around his resting place in a circle with their heads bowed toward him 'till mornin', a practice that represents protectin' someone from harm. As fer Alexandria... we've been arguin' about it. I think she'd like to stick around fer a while after we put her to rest... she always did like the view here. She should enjoy it a bit longer.

Dr. Steele: For many fairy-types, we don't consider death to be a true end. When one's body disintegrates, their magic returns to the world around us, and it surrounds us in everything we do, no? My family has such beautiful urns and vases for the Cores of beloved kin, always keeping them with us and passing them down through the generations. I believe we have the remains of my great-great-great-great-great grandmother!

[catsofemma]

hey friends!!

my name is kayla (or you can just call me kay) :3 i am here to talk about my comfort media!

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

this is my new blog where i will make lego friends content and share other lego friends posts because along with disney fairies, rainbow high, etc. lego friends is a huge brainrot of mine!

🌈 ABOUT ME

GENERATIONS: i’m a big fan of all of the versions of lego friends. the original generation is of course the most nostalgic, girls on a mission is very creative and innovative, and the most recent version is an adorable modern take on the world of friends 💖

CONTENT: i will post all sorts of content! between fanarts, edits, headcanons, rant posts, and more. you can also find me on my main @georgiasbloom where i post about all my doll medias and fandoms (i’d usually just maintain one account but there’s an animal inside of me that loves creating separate accounts for more organization on my fav medias) and @mermaidrani where i post about my most fav media, disney fairies ✨

FANDOM: i’ve been a big fan of lego friends since 2019 when my closest friends inspired me to get back into my childhood media :) ever since then, i’ve made tons of lego friends edits and been active in creating for instagram and fandom spaces. i’m content vibing in the corner with my small circle of friends, but it’s always nice to find posts by people online who are a fan :P 🎀

FAVOURITES: it’s hard to pick favs, and i’ve definitely flipped between all the main five girls throughout time. emma is my closest kin, mia has been a consistent fav, and i’m deeply in love with liann and nova (from the recent generation)

my favourite ships have always been miemma (mia x emma), stephivia (stephanie x olivia), mivi (mia x livi), andremma (andrea x emma), and liannova (liann x nova) 💝

v check my tags for organized content v

[still-single]

DISCOS HEATHEN: NEW SHOWS

Been a minute since I dropped in here, Tumbles. Please check out these new sets, made by me, at home. No more community radio station getting in the way of my ambitions. Enjoy these.

Ep. 360 (it killed Kissinger) 29 November 2023

Kleeer - Tonight

Seekersinternational - 2 Gold Chain (Drive U Crazy)

Cherrystones - Robot’s Kin

Komare - untitled

Identified Patient - Nog Steeds High Van De Lak

Kirlian - Pulsingers Dream

Run DMC - Rock the House

NYCC - I’ll Keep a Light In My Window

ALXAMBRA — arabic

Dow Jones and the Industrials - Never Too Stoned to Disco

Gerycz Powers Rolin - Activator

Venus Club - 14

Bar Italia - Hi Fiver

Violent Change - McCartney the Fox

Mike Donovan - Sadfinger Meets the Mighty Flash

Papa Yankson - Dodo Bi Afre

The Embrooks - I’m Coming Home

Eastlink - Blood Money

Tara Clerkin Trio — Brigstow

Andre Ethier — On Lies

Chi to Shizuku — Yoru no Kono Sora Toi

Empire — All These Things

Embrace — Money

England’s Glory — City of Fun

The Sundae Painters — Sweet Dreams

Bear Bones, Lay Low — Historia Microscopica

Bobby Jimmy and the Critters — Roaches (instr.)

Central Line — Walking into Sunshine

Ep. 359 (broke my shit) 19 November 2023

Third World War — Preaching Violence

Circus Lupus — I Always Thought You Were An Asshole

Shabba Ranks — Dem Bow

Gang of Four — Ether (Peel Session)

Collate — Disassociative Ritual

Erotic Drum Band — Plug Me to Death

Thorne — Face 2 Face

Flex TMG — Come On Over (Bebe)

Country Teasers — Please Stop Fucking Each Other

Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band — Junk Drawer Heart

Section 25 — Sutra

Finnoguns Wake — Blue Skies

The Native Cats — Small Town Cop Override

My Heart, An Inverted Flame — Pollen Blacked Out the Sky

Mutant Strain — Knuckle Dragger

Circle Jerks — Red Tape

Excelsior — Hot Shit Sandwich

Ooga Boogas — The Octopus Is Back

Cherubs — Carjack Fairy

Steel Pole Bath Tub — The Scarlet

Protomartyr — Want Remover

Hans-Joachim Roedelius — Durch Die Wüste

Huerco S. — Plonk VI

Nine Dog Dick — I Bought a Suicide for the Holidays

[ashes-and-static]

Inspired by this work over here, concerning the existence of the death god before Narinder/The One Who Waits

Readmore because it's long. Might crosspost over to AO3 later.

Narinder opened his eyes, squinting into the gloom. He last remembered...

Right. He'd been out on a crusade with the Lamb, ensuring the borders around the cult's-

Well. It wasn't really a cult now, was it? More of a small village with a resident god who only wanted their people happy.

The village, then. They'd been making sure the borders around the village were secure. What had....?

He remembered seeing one of the larger invaders appear behind the lamb, one of those black-robed fiends that could vanish and appear at will, with its claws raised as if to strike the young Death god down-

Ah. Narinder had been foolish. The Lamb was sturdy stock, they would've been able to endure that strike even while wearing the Berserker's Fleece (which they didn't wear when they travelled with him, because they knew it made him upset), but Narinder himself was still recovering from his long centuries chained in that white hellscape. The blow meant for his Lamb had struck him instead, and now he found himself in an empty darkness, nothing but void as far as his three eyes could see.

I see you have found yourself mortal once again, O One Who Waits.

Narinder stiffened, feeling his fur bristle at the strange staticky voice.

"Who's there?!" He called, claws out and eyes wide. "What do you want?!"

You know who I am. You know exactly what I want.

A thrill of ice sank into his ribs. The Old God who claimed ownership of the crowns granted to himself and his siblings (and who apparently was an enemy to the mother of the Three, from what Shamura had later found) had named a price for "allowing" them to retain their gifts - if those crowns were ever lost, and something struck them down before Death could claim them...

Well. The hellish purgatory that the Lamb had told him about would seem tame in comparison.

Narinder tried to back away from where he thought the Eater was, his spatial awareness shot to pieces in the void.

There is no escape for you, Narinder. There is no Death to claim you here, they will not know to find you in My keeping.

"They will know!" Narinder insisted, hating the desperation that edged his voice. "I have had to teach them almost nothing, they will know how to find me!"

He hated, hated the sensations that crept along his skin, like he was a lone sheep being circled by wolves.

He wondered if this had been how the Lambs had felt, as they were rounded up, hunted down, slaughtered down to the last.

He barely had time to see, as a withered hand shot toward him-

And was struck away by a strange, hook-shaped staff.

NO!

"He doesn't belong to you, Zelkos. Nor do he or his siblings belong to your kin who devour each other, over and over again until the universe unwinds." Narinder almost wanted to weep in relief at the sound of that voice, of The Lamb's voice, but something was... different. Something he'd glimpsed for only a second when he'd fought the Lamb for the Red Crown.

And in the next moment, he could see.

The small stature, stubby horns and gentle face were gone, replaced by something more reminiscent of the Dragons of old - taller than Narinder was and broad as a mountain, two horns that bent above the head and another two curling around the ears, and a mouth that realistically shouldn't have canine teeth that sharp nor should it open that wide...

The Shepherd had been a fairy tale long before Narinder himself had been born, even Shamura had struggled to find mention of them in all their books. A legend, a myth even, from before legends had begun, the Shepherd had forged the Red Crown when they saw the struggles of those who died and failed to make the crossing between worlds.

The only people who had spoken of the Shepherd were the ones who claimed They were one of their own: the Lambs. Nomadic wanderers, always -in those days- passing through places in groups no smaller than ten, usually no greater than fifty. Ironically enough, they'd referred to their own navigators as Shepherds, as well.

The Shepherd of the Damned, the mythical god had been called. Narinder wondered why he'd ever forgotten.

A sharp crack of wood striking metal snapped him from his drifting thoughts. The Lamb - the Shepherd? - had batted away Zelkos, their muzzle wrinkled and teeth bared in a snarl. The Red Crown glowed like a beacon among the curls of wool atop their head, and their power wrapped around Narinder himself like armor, black cosmic fire burning between him and the writhing shadows of the void that had wanted to consume him.

"I have humbled far stronger gods than you, Zelkos. Do not make me end you, for there will be nothing waiting for you beyond the horizon." the Shepherd growled, their voice a rumble deep in their chest. "He. Is. Mine."

The eldritch monster grumbled softly, withdrawing itself back into the sphere-and-cloak-and-(broken)-halo form that Narinder remembered the Old Gods favoring.

I will not forget this, treacherous Lamb.

"Perhaps, then, you should also remember: even when my kind were driven from this land, I still took your siblings beyond the horizon. Force the issue, and I will take you as well."

Zelkos receded quickly, hissing as they did so, and the darkness faded into a soft grey. The Lamb let their power fade, gently reverting to their smaller form. Turning, they gestured for Narinder to bend forward and took his face into their hands, cupping his cheeks with a delicacy he hadn't expected.

"Are you injured?" They asked, their voice back to the featherlight bleating he was used to hearing. "I... haven't faced that one in many lifetimes, not since before you took up the Crown I think. And... unfortunately, I doubt I'll remember this after you're back in your body where you belong. The Crown remembers, but my mortal mind doesn't. Can't. Not yet, anyway."

"You... You are the Shepherd." Narinder whispered, letting himself drop to his knees. Looking up to the Lamb like they were something holy, something treasured.

"I was, and I will be, but I'm not. Not Yet. This body is too young." They smiled back at him, radiant and full of love. "You kept my crown safe while I could not wear it, and you loved it and me best of all my followers, just as you always have. My people are lost to this land, for now, but they will return as we always do. We're a little inevitable, like that. But, Nari, I don't have much time like this. You need to return to your body, and I can guide you there, but you have to trust me completely, alright? Otherwise, this will hurt."

Narinder didn't, couldn't hesitate. "Of course, Lamb."

-x-

He felt like he had when Leshy had bull-rushed him that one time, when they'd both been children still; his chest hurt, his legs felt like they had until very recently been at a very awkward angle, and it felt like there were many tiny people with lead hammers banging away on the inside of his skull. The pillow beneath his head was soft, though, and something smelled like mothers' milk and made the kitten buried deep in the recesses of his mind come forward and try to demand to both knead and nurse.

Were it not for how much movement hurt, Narinder would probably act on those instincts. As it sat, though, all he could really do was turn his head to one side and press slightly into the soft pillow beneath his head.

A gentle chuckle wrapped around him like a woolen blanket, and a featherlight touch against his head soothed the hammerers slightly.

"Sleep a little longer, dear one. The healing needs a little longer to fully take." A kiss, delicate and chaste, was placed over his central eye, and sleep once again swept over him.

[eldritchboop]

45 Rare Supernatural Books - Ghost Stories and Mysteries

The Lost Book Project charges $12 for this collection. If you found this roundup helpful, please consider donating to the Internet Archive instead. Other roundups here

The Book on Mediums: Guide for Mediums and Invocators by Allen Kardec (1861)

The Spirits' Book by Allen Kardec (1857)

Life In The World Unseen by Anthony Borgia (1878)

The Urantia Papers (1955)

Book Of The Damned by Charles Fort (1919)

The Human Atmosphere (1911)

True Irish Ghost Stories - J. D. Seymour (1914)

The Night Side of Nature by Catherine Crowe (1847)

Unveiled Mysteries (1914)

Ancient Mysteries and Modern Revelations (1910)

Wanderer In The Spirit Lands by Franchezzo (1896)

Scenes Beyond the Grave. Trance of Marietta Davis - M. Davis (1859)

Stranger Than Fiction: Being Tales From the Byways of Ghosts and Folk-lore - M. L. Lewes (1911)

Coming Of The Fairies by Arthur Conan Doyle (1922)

True Ghost Stories - H. Carrington (1915)

Complete Hypnotism Mesmerism Mind Reading And Spiritualism (1903)

Contact with the Other World (1919)

Vampire His Kith And Kin (1918)

Spiritism in its Simplest Expression: Summary of the Spirits' Teachings and their Manifestations by Allen Kardec  Ed note: Still in print; this is a link to a preview.

Spiritualist philosophy, the spirits' book - containing the principles of spiritist doctrine on the immortality of the soul, the nature of spirits and their relations with men - A. Kardec (1875)

Experimental Investigation Of The Spirit Manifestations (1855)

From India To The Planet Mars (1900)

Lives of the Necromancers (1834)

Hypnotism Magnetism, Mesmerism, Suggestive Therapeutics and Magnetic Healing (1910)

My Experiences While Out Of My Body (1915)

Phantasms of the Living, Vol. 1 (1886)

Phantasms of the Living, Vol. 2 (1886)

The Philosophy of Mystery (1841)

Tales Of The Dartmoor Pixies (1890)

The Book of Dreams and Ghosts (1897)

The Phantom World Or, The Philosophy of Spirits, Apparitions, etc. (1850)

Experimental Spiritism - A. Kardec (1874)

The Soul of Things by William Denton (1871)

Vedanta Philosophy - Five Lectures on Reincarnation - A. Swami (1902)

Reincarnation - A Study of Forgotten Truth - E. D. Walker (1888)

Fairy Circles Tales and Legends of Giants, Dwarfs, Fairies, Water-Sprites and Hobgoblins by Villamaria (1877)

The destiny of the soul. A critical history of the doctrine of a future life - W. R. Alger (1878) A Book of Ghosts - S. Baring-Gould (1904)

Ghost land, or, Researches into the mysteries of occultism - W. Britten (1876)

The Encyclopedia of Ghosts and Spirits (1992)

Historic ghosts and ghost hunters - H. A. Bruce (1908)

How to Speak with the Dead; a Practical Handbook - Sciens (1918)

In ghostly Japan - L. Hearn (1900)

Scottish Ghost Stories - E. O'Donnell (1911)

Some Haunted Houses of England - E. O'Donnell (1908)