Here's From Sunday With... You Guessed It! The Crows! 3.23.25

there’s a very real chance that this is common sense but.

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angels and deities can and should make their living space into their own holy ground. turn your bedroom into an altar to yourself. create an altar to yourself within your holy space (altar-ception)

(anyways here’s a corner of my room, ft. some of my DIY) (almost everything in this pic is thrifted, you don’t have to have money to do this)

Had a dream of an old woman. Her home was dark and made of wood, and the air was full of the smell of rain. She had white hair, and the wrinkles on her face danced as she smiled her millionth smile, looking at me with soft eyes. As if we were old friends, reminiscing on older times. She hands me a well-loved child's toy. Nothing fancy, nothing flashy or intricate. It was a simple doll, made of old simple fabric, with a kind simple expression. Its hair was made of yarn, and it was small in her thin hands, which had held countless other things. But those hands held this doll so preciously, so gently- like a young babe; precious, and loved with the full capacity of the human heart. And she hands it to me. Places it gently in my hands, saying not a word, that expression unwavering. She was showing it to me, sharing the decades of memories and love stored inside every fraying thread.

The fire is a comfortable warmth for the woman, despite her gentle body being easily chilled. The rain thudded against the old wood of her home, which gave it's life for her to continue her own- and, in a way, she gave it a new one. A life it would've never known otherwise. And so they took care of each other. And I took care of them.

She calls me a strange name, one of the many I've been called- one of the many that had been forgotten as generations had come and gone. I say her name in a tongue I do not recognize, though it passes by my lips easily. It is not the first, nor the last time I have said this name. I am one of the few who remembers it.

I gently put the doll among the other things she has given to me over the years, all holding an amount of love only a human could carry, and I cherish them all. She lights candles that she made herself, dyed green for the forest I so dearly love. I stare at them a while, watching the flames flicker gently, tilted slightly in my direction.

As I look around the home, tend to the fire and make sure the home is steady, the woman sits in the chair her son made for her, gazing out at the rain. We both know this will be her last storm, and so I do not bother her. Only keep my presence nearby. She may take her time, enjoy the world a few moments longer. Enjoy the world for as many moments as she may wish.

I held her hand and shared with her memories of when she was young. Of when she first said my name, and when she first offered me a little flower crown she made, to her mother's delight. I shared with her memories of her children, and her children's children- and of the children who've yet to come. Her family is all in good health, and happy.

She hopes, with a smile, that her passing does not interrupt that.

It will, but only for a moment. They will learn to be happy, because she would want them to be. And so they will, and they will do so with all their hearts. She will remind them just how important happiness is.

She rests, then. And I stay until the candles' flame dies out one last time.

Had a dream of an old woman. Her home was dark and made of wood, and the air was full of the smell of rain. She had white hair, and the wrinkles on her face danced as she smiled her millionth smile, looking at me with soft eyes. As if we were old friends, reminiscing on older times. She hands me a well-loved child's toy. Nothing fancy, nothing flashy or intricate. It was a simple doll, made of old simple fabric, with a kind simple expression. Its hair was made of yarn, and it was small in her thin hands, which had held countless other things. But those hands held this doll so preciously, so gently- like a young babe; precious, and loved with the full capacity of the human heart. And she hands it to me. Places it gently in my hands, saying not a word, that expression unwavering. She was showing it to me, sharing the decades of memories and love stored inside every fraying thread.

The fire is a comfortable warmth for the woman, despite her gentle body being easily chilled. The rain thudded against the old wood of her home, which gave it's life for her to continue her own- and, in a way, she gave it a new one. A life it would've never known otherwise. And so they took care of each other. And I took care of them.

She calls me a strange name, one of the many I've been called- one of the many that had been forgotten as generations had come and gone. I say her name in a tongue I do not recognize, though it passes by my lips easily. It is not the first, nor the last time I have said this name. I am one of the few who remembers it.

I gently put the doll among the other things she has given to me over the years, all holding an amount of love only a human could carry, and I cherish them all. She lights candles that she made herself, dyed green for the forest I so dearly love. I stare at them a while, watching the flames flicker gently, tilted slightly in my direction.

As I look around the home, tend to the fire and make sure the home is steady, the woman sits in the chair her son made for her, gazing out at the rain. We both know this will be her last storm, and so I do not bother her. Only keep my presence nearby. She may take her time, enjoy the world a few moments longer. Enjoy the world for as many moments as she may wish.

I held her hand and shared with her memories of when she was young. Of when she first said my name, and when she first offered me a little flower crown she made, to her mother's delight. I shared with her memories of her children, and her children's children- and of the children who've yet to come. Her family is all in good health, and happy.

She hopes, with a smile, that her passing does not interrupt that.

It will, but only for a moment. They will learn to be happy, because she would want them to be. And so they will, and they will do so with all their hearts. She will remind them just how important happiness is.

She rests, then. And I stay until the candles' flame dies out one last time.

Deep in the mysterious woods.

here are some kintype reaction images I made! First one is mine and the rest are traced over.

First one is for when you just gotta go GRERHRGRRRG!!! RRR!!! Rage kill stabbing maiming pouncing on u mauling tearing w my claws stabbing stabbing blood violence!!! Imagine the stick figure is a transphobic politician and that’s basically the mood. It’s for when mauling and biting in a werewolf feral animal way isn’t enough for me and I just gotta pounce and stab w my killing claw/raptor talon deinonychus style. The rest are for my angel kintype and last one is my vampire kintype where I get just absolutely covered in blood. Drenched little guy.

These ones feel sacred <3

SHOUT OUT TO:

Shout out to:

• Angels/gods who hated being in heaven • Demons/Devils who hated hell • Fallen Angels who don’t miss the higher beings/miss the higher beings • Faes/Fairies who miss their wings/other parts of their bodies • Cryptids who miss being in-human and looking weird • Star/Spacekins who miss the universe • Alienkins who get euphoria from documentaries or theories • Otherkins who get euphoria from hearing people’s research on them • Alterhuman people with types from another time period • Godkins/Angelkins who aren’t religious

Anyone who can’t feel their shifts unless they think about them • Anyone who is the opposite of their old bodies gender and are super uncomfortable with theirs right now • Anyone who’s kintypes aren’t recognized much in media • Anyone who get dysphoria from hearing about their therio/kintype • Anyone who hates hearing stuff about their kintypes • Anyone who is using different kintype/theriotype terms to see if they’re comfortable with it • Anyone questioning theriotypes/kintypes • Anyone who can’t express themselves freely • Anyone who expresses themselves freely even if they get judged • Anyone we has a system • Anyone who has disabilities that make them unable to do quads or others • Anyone who has disabilities and get dysphoria because it’s something their kintypes/theriotypes are perfect at • Anyone who has a kintype/theriotype while also being Age-re/Pet-reg • Anyone who gets dysphoria or euphoria from their human skin/body • Anyone who feels pressured to immediately find their types • Anyone who feels they’re faking because they don’t look like or act like other otherkins/therians/alterhumans

YOU GUYS ARE VALID!!

🥂

Shared a memory dream with my beloved a while ago, and ever since I've been called Divinity/Angel/God/Godling as a regular term of endearment... It brings me such joy, I truly can't understand it. My beloved worships me in her own way, and I cannot explain how much it makes me feel... Needed. Like I belong somewhere again- connected, to that time long since passed. I truly feel divine again when I am with her; I feel how I did with the one who showed me how to see... Imagine if their soul had carried over into what I now know as her? A nice thing to think about...

The fact that she heard my dream, and came to the conclusion that it must be a memory, all on her own, makes me want to be more open with her about other lives I recall. More than I can describe. But, if nothing else, this.. this is enough. To make a difference in my beloveds life- to provide her comfort and safety and joy, even if we are unable to see each other outside of pictures or long trips.

It makes me.. very happy

After the thunder came the hail, and after the hail; the fog

Found a picrew that I could make a more accurate imitation of my visage than most, though it does paint me a bit too feminine. All things considered, I'm glad that's the only thing that feels too inaccurate.

On the left is a fairly accurate portrayal of how I looked without my veil. Usually my veil covered my eyes, so all that was visible were my nose and mouth. My kind all had long, straight hair, and our skin was extremely pale and fragile. I believe the headpiece was a sort of formal attire used when going to speak to our Creator, and other important scenarios. I'm not sure if I ever had jewlery, but I feel that necklace is what it'd look like if I did.

On the right is, again, a fairly accurate portrayal of how I looked without my veil. I didn't wear it always, but I had a black veil covering my nose and mouth. I believe I wore it when meeting new/important beings. I remember having dark/soft robes that I wore -perhaps a cloak- that had an opening for my wings. I always wore white face paint, especially the dots under my eyes. On occasion I'd change the markings on my forehead.