fizzsie

[fizzsie]

what’s it called when you’re so disconnected from reality that cold water doesn’t feel like anything and you can barely taste food anymore

[fizzsie]

what’s it called when you’re so disconnected from reality that cold water doesn’t feel like anything and you can barely taste food anymore

[fizzsie]

I wanna go absolutely feral fae mode. I'm talkin running up trees in torn clothing with my fangs bared. I wanna be both the protector of this land and the thing that is rumored to hunt the wicked in these woods.

[fizzsie]

There was an abandoned church where the faeries used to come out, tucked away in one of those neighborhoods in the city where only residents ever go. It was a beautiful stone building, covered in vines and ivy, half broken, resting between the corner stores and brownstones. They say it's so old that nobody even remembers the name of the god they worshipped there.

And there used to be faeries there. They would come out quite frequently. Nobody maintained the place, but it was ruined enough so you could just walk in through where the door used to be. And you could see them there, the kobolds who would sing their ancient songs in languages long forgotten. And the hollow backed women who would dance in the silver moonligh, and who turned men who tried to touch them into trees. There where spirits who'd look like dragonflies one momment, and than little winged people the next. And great dire trolls at times would come out and brew strange drinks from grass and root. There were mothmen who flew in the skies above the ancient church, looking down with big yellow eyes. There where witches who'd grant strange requests for strange prices, and who'd look like women from a far, and great mantises when near. And there were even darker things, faceless men, and black eyed girls, who'd come, but they never harmed a soul on those old church grounds.

They say it became a place where people who were grateful for such things would come. Urban sorcerers, and cryptid hunters, unmarketable artists, and outcasts and members of forgotten subcultures would come to. It was mostly just a place people in the city knew about, people who knew enough about the fae, people who had respect for the fae. A few faeries would let themselves show up in dim photographs, perhaps to appear on somebody's blog, but most people who would go there knew to ask first. And they say that. In her gratefulness to the ruins, for being a place where the children of Odin and the children of Gaia had found peace, the queen of the autumn faeries had gifted them a magic sword, that shined like sunset amber, planted forever in the ruins of the church's alter.

And once there was a magical sword there, something valuable there, the city decided it had to take notice. It wasn't just some worthless stone anymore, it was something with more money behind it now. They transfered the ruins' ownership from the underfunded historical society, to a successful real-estate company, who would know how to handle it well, and perhaps bring in some tourists.

And suddenly, things began to change. See, the sword needed to be well protected of course, so there were security cameras all over the place to keep out robbers, and guards of course to stand around and yell at people, and of course perhaps to fire iron bullets at any faeries who thought about hurting humans who wanted to be free to touch them and pet them and take pictures without consequences. And there were metal detectors of course, and there needed to be a closing time because suddenly there was a staff that had to be payed.

And somehow there were less and less faeries then, and the people who had used to come so often had gone away too. But that didn't matter, they still needed to turn a profit, and they had started advertising it, so soon tourists with their fancy cameras and expectations, and families with little children on leashes and dogs in their strollers, and fourteen year old boys who giggled because faerie could mean gay, all started to come, and waited on line to see the minority of faeries who were still there. And soon the walls of the old church had signs and ads and the walls were painted a green because the company thought grey was an ugly color, and the entrance had all those little marketable t-shirts and plushes for people to buy.

And soon there were no more faeries. They didn't want to come. The sword had turned black.

They say the last faeries to leave were the toughest of them, and that they didn't like the new type of guest, trolls would put human bones in their last stews, and witches would curse anyone who took pictures of them, and the black eyed girls and faceless men finally dragged people into faeland never to return. But even they left eventually, all of them did. They say the sword healed when it was bright and amber, but when it was black it's magic was no weaker, but it killed, anyone who touched the black sword would rot away. They say other magical creatures, meaner ones, found good homes in the church when it became so filled with the company's things, blood drinking vampires, and howling ghosts, and deal making devils, found the place to be a perfect hunting spot. The faeries never came back, and the church lost its profitability, they tried to rip it down, and use the land for some pretty shot or restaurant, but they could never clear the foundation, nobody could lift the sword.

[fizzsie]

Reblog this post to send a small fae creature to annoy and haunt someone who plays loud tiktoks in public.

[fizzsie]

How to Get Started with The Fair Folk

Before You Do Anything Else

Keep Your Head and Common Sense-- Most of the standard things you'll find in folklore apply here. Don't eat fairy food, don't step in fairy rings, keep a bit of iron on you for emergencies, and the like. This might seem obvious, but you'd be surprised how many people jump right in with no safety net.

Researching

Pop Culture is Not Your Friend-- The Victorian Tinkerbell-type fairy and the emo high-fantasy fairy have muddled the popular conception of the subject so much. There are so many misconceptions about Themselves that have spawned out of pop culture and New Age. I won't bother to list them all here, but suffice it to say that you should always check the bibliography of whatever you're researching to make sure it's not citing lore that originated from a D&D campaign.

The Internet Is Probably Not Your Friend Either-- If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you can't trust Tumblr to record fairy faith traditions. These are primarily oral traditions, and there often will be variations on the lore even within a single locality. An online blogging environment tends to not be conducive to this, as it removes all nuance from the equation.

If you want some well researched, actually coherent sources, I'd recommend Morgan Daimler's Fairies: A guide to the Celtic Fair Folk and Emma Wilby's The Visions of Isobel Gowdie.

That Being Said, Research Isn't Everything– You can read and research until you drop, but it’s not going to do anything for you if you have no practical experience. Just like you can’t learn to play football by reading a book about it, you can’t learn the Folk out of a book. A book isn’t going to know what offerings your locals like, or where they hang out, or what Rules they adhere to. Your interactions and UPG will be infinitely more valuable in your own practice than anything you can read secondhand.

Practical Stuff

Respect What They Wish to Be Called-- Not all of the Folk have a medieval court structure with Kings and Queens and such. My locals are very finicky about that and find the insinuation that they are a Court to be insulting. I'm not exactly sure why, but best to avoid that particular can of worms.

Keep Up With Offerings-- If you want to get in good with them, I'd recommend something classical (like milk and honey) offered on a regular basis, and additional payments for services rendered. But make sure you do this consistently, and don't stop without reason. Nobody likes a friend that ghosts them. Make sure to keep in touch-- and not just when you need a favor.

Fairy Trees – Often in the lore, certain trees in certain positions will be designated as sacred to the Good Neighbors. These are usually oak, rowan, hawthorn or elder trees, set apart by location (i.e. growing alone in a field). In my area, there’s a lone hawthorn with a bluebell next to it. That tree is undeniably a door into Their realm, and my phone signal goes out whenever I walk past it. 

If you have a fairy tree in your vicinity, consider yourself lucky. Leave offerings at its base at your leisure. The important thing is that you never, never, ever take branches or clippings from it without explicit permission.

The F-Word– I’ve sort of been dancing around it this whole time, but it’s not recommended to call them any variation of “fae” or “fairy” when speaking directly about them. Instead, use euphemisms like I’ve been doing– Fair Folk, Good Neighbors, Themselves, etc.. If you speak of them in such a manner, you might attract their attention, and that’s not always a good thing.

Safety

Cold Iron– The reasons why They, by and large, don’t like iron are numerous, but it’s a very well-known deterrent. My locals aren’t repelled by it per se, but they really don’t like it around. I have a protective charm of iron that is very obviously Not A Weapon, but I’m still discouraged from bringing it into their territory. If you’re seeking to repel Them, iron is your key. 

Don't Say Thank You-- This is a really weird one. A lot of the folklore on record heavily discourages verbally saying thank you to Themselves. Reasons vary as to why, but it's generally agreed that by saying it, you are essentially acknowledging that you owe an unspecified debt to them, and that's never a good spot to be in. I opt for kind smiles and neutral statements like "I appreciate your help" instead.

Don't Get a Big Head-- If there's one thing to take away from this ramble, it's this last point. If you are seeking to consort with the Folk, remember that you are really the underdog in this situation. They don't really operate by human time, human social constructs or even human morality a lot of the time. If you start getting presumptuous, thinking you can "pay them off" for favors or "call them up" in ritual, it is 100% not going to end well for you.

[fizzsie]

Cast iron phone

Cast iron phone case

Cast iron phone case OtterBox

Cast iron phone case Android

Phone sigils

Phone sigils fae

Faeries keep stealing phone

Gun license New Jersey

[fizzsie]

The real reason your sapient dragon character needs a "rider":

Dragons on the wing are vulnerable to being mobbed by smaller, more agile flyers, particularly in your large rear blind spot, like a bird of prey being mobbed by crows. Having a human armed with a long spear perched on your back helps to dissuade anyone from getting any funny ideas.

Breath weapons are impressive enough on the ground, but in flight they're really only good for strafing stationary targets; trying to use your breath weapon in an aerial dogfight is a good way to get fire up your nose. A real fight calls for sterner measures – and, concomitantly, a crew to aim and reload the cannons.

In today's competitive world, it's not enough to devour a flock of sheep and call it a day if you want to keep your edge. You're accompanied at all times by a qualified personal alchemist tasked with carefully regulating your internal furnace to ensure peak performance, and sometimes you even listen to them.

No dragon of any quality would be caught dead without their valet. It's not as though you can announce your numerous long-winded titles yourself when introductions are called for, can you? You suppose next you'll be expected to pick up the spoils of your conquests yourself, like a common brigand. Perish the thought!

[fizzsie]

Squiddo: Okay, this way?

Ash: Yeap

Squiddo: I trust you, because I love you. [pause] Aw, you’ve already aclimatised!

Ash: [giggle] No, I haven’t. It still makes me kick my feet underneath my desk whenever you say nice things to me. [sudden change in tone] Fuck, I’m losing so much aura.

[fizzsie]

Shoutout to angels who aren't entirely pure.

Shoutout to angels who are loud and talkative.

Shoutout to angels who are hypersexual.

Shoutout to angels who aren't religious but simply are an angel.

Shoutout to angels who want to devote themselves, shoutout to angels who dont.

Shoutout to angels who find it hard to love.

Shoutout to angels who exist.

[fizzsie]

Kin Rambling: Angelkin

Woah I have a space to talk about my kin feelings :0 going to try a few of these and see how it goes (Also going to lump in divine/deitykin because they personally operate in a similar fashion and I could be repeating myself otherwise <3)

Note that I am agnostic so take that as you will- also although I identify as deitykin I have no interest in worship or being treated as superior, please and thank you :]

As one who feels divine, I feel a sort of need to comfort others? When I see someone sad I just want to wrap my wings around them and make them feel warm and safe and loved… it’s even harder sometimes because on the internet I can’t just hug them, and often have to resort to words (which are hard!)

The typical portrayal of an angel, wings and halo, fit me quite well X3 I crave flight and freedom, and although the halo doesn’t personally symbolize anything, I like the magic floaty head accessory! Especially combining it with cat/dragonkin, where it loops around an ear or a horn :3

Also biblically accurate angels?? Are very pretty?? Like yes I could be a goofy little winged friend but also be some powerful indescribable awe-striking being?? I adore having those extra eyes and face wings <3 (Will probably get into this more when I talk about eldritchkin)

I also identify as deitykin partially because I feel like I hold a lot of supernatural power that angel doesn’t get across; I have a strong desire to just. Play with reality and break the rules of physics in a way that’s ingrained into my form, like I was born with these abilities rather than learning them from an outside source. I don’t identify with a domain, it’s more that deity is a bridge between being a silly divine angel mingling with humans and an eternal omnipotent celestial being existing in some corner of the universe.

Although I’m being quite honest with all of this, divinekin is actually an area of me that I feel a bit embarrassed to talk about? It’s not that I consider it invalid, but from what I’ve personally seen in my life, I don’t want to be seen as greedy or have a big ego or something along those lines; I just want to fling magic around for funsies and be able to give people fluffy hugs and a day off to go wander in the forest away from the stresses of society :’) And I’m not an angel who serves a deity or a deity who wants worship; I’m just a silly who feels connected to divine concepts!

Anyways, tis my ramble :]

[fizzsie]

keith pidge autistic parallel play where they sit in a room and do their own stuff in silence bc everyone else seems to be incapable of shutting the fuck up for five minutes. Ok besides shiro but hes going through The Horrors

[fizzsie]

⚓🔱My particular brand of selkie kin mood board🔱⚓

[fizzsie]

"Song of the Sea" style selkie stimboard for anon, hope you enjoy!

🦭🐚🦭/🐚🦭🐚/🦭🐚🦭

[fizzsie]

Someone stole my pelt.

It wasn't a man that took it from me to steal me as his bride like a traditional selkie story.

It wasn't my mother or my father, trying to hide the truth from me because I came into the world wearing an animal skin.

It wasn't even the doctor who delivered me, trying to make me live a human life because I was some "abomination".

I should have had a pelt, but it never came. My blood, my bones, my very soul seem to cry out for a life I never got the opportunity to live. Born for a pelt I would never wear. A body I could never change into. Something I could only imagine by watching others of my kind, sitting on the docks in communal groups in comfort while I'm "other". The furless, bipedal creature that can't enter the water like they can, watching them with my tiny eyes and hair that sprouts from my head and wearing my funny clothes.

To me, I am them.

To them, I am human.

This fact never killed my instincts. Since I could move, I have wanted to be near water. My infant hands would play with cubes of ice and reach for videos on the old TV screen of oceans and pools and water spraying from broken pipes with a smile on my face. I couldn't keep my hands out of the duck ponds and city fountains once I was able to walk. Then, when I could swim, seemingly no one could take me out of the pool. Even a near drowning experience only made me frustrated, wanting to learn how to swim better so I could go under the water next time.

One year, I found the show H2O: Just Add Water, and I was mesmerized. The idea of being able to visit some magical moon pool and suddenly be able to stay in the sea, swimming effortlessly with a tail I could conjure up at any time was a dream come true. My unrestricted internet access led me down the wormhole of "real spells online", and I was wearing a necklace everyday blessed under some full moon and drinking salty water from a jar every day. I could cry and cry and cry all day when I never developed a single scale, never got a selkie pelt, and couldn't go under the water the way I wanted to.

I can't explain it. I don't know why I am the way I am, but clearly something about me was misplaced when I was born. My wiring, my soul, something innate is meant to be off the land. My hands feel webbed and like they're missing claws. My teeth feel too short compared to what I seem to know they should be. I always want salmon and tuna and trout, yet will never be able to take a bite of any of them. I was born in a dry place, as if trying to keep me away on purpose. I don't know anyone in my life who doesn't think of me as some sort of water being, comparing me often to seals, otters, mermaids, water birds, and yet I feel so much like a selkie who has been forcibly trapped in a house, being told to forget who I am, to not look for the pelt, to not dip my toes in the tides.

It's unfair. I was robbed. Someone took my pelt, and there's nothing I can do about that. But it will never stop me from trying to get as close as possible to living how I was meant to. It won't stop me from walking into the freezing waters at the marina. From digging through sand with my bare hands. From eating every shellfish that crosses my path. From immersing myself, clothes and all, into the running river hidden away behind the trees. From walking the halls with a fur blanket draped around my shoulders, dragging along the artifical floors while I pretend they're sand and rock. From visiting my kind in the wild, even if they look back at me and cannot see what I feel. I'll be waiting forever to get in the water, but I have done what I can by moving towards the coast and out of the mountainous alpine desert.

Nothing will take my spirit from me, even when everything else has been stripped away.

A selkie is a selkie, even without her pelt.

[fizzsie]

Saoirse (Song of The Sea)

[fizzsie]

Song of the Sea is a fuckin masterclass on using music to lovingly and tenderly rip your still beating heart from your chest and eat it in front of you

Not even starting on the visual style and animation or we'll be here all day

I wish more films did that. It hurts.