starlling-writes

starlling-writes

Starlling Writes

☆ **18+ ONLY** ☆ 28 | pan | she/they I write fantasy & monster love stories, from fluff to smut ❤ For my most recent updates, check out Wattpad or AO3. Otherwise, enjoy my stories once they're posted here [masterlist] Follow for a lot of monster and fantasy stuff Banner: Sting, from Fairy Tail by Hiro Mashima, colored by AnnaHiwatari

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starlling-writes·2 days agoText

starlling-writes:

Series Rating: 18+
Chapter Contains: mild suggestive themes
Pairing: f/f
Banner by me; stock photo sources here
Writing Masterlist

image

During Brumalis, Caera had found a vendor who specialized in making life-sized dolls for possession. They were temporary things used by those lacking physical form—mainly demons and celestials, but the dead as well.

I had mixed feeling about getting one for her. On one hand, it would be easier for Caera to help me if she had a physical form and her strength didn’t flux day to day. She’d have more freedom too. On the other hand, it would be costly and also allow her to be more wicked.

Currently, she couldn’t venture far from the house. She also had to monitor her energy usage or risk being out of commission for a few days. But if she had a spelled body… She’d tease me at home more and wherever we went. She’d plan more tricks, like the one she pulled with Valzok recently.

The sex would be different too.

Keep reading

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starlling-writes·3 days agoText

starlling-writes:

Series Rating: 18+
Chapter Contains: mild suggestive themes
Pairing: f/f
Banner by me; stock photo sources here
Writing Masterlist

image

During Brumalis, Caera had found a vendor who specialized in making life-sized dolls for possession. They were temporary things used by those lacking physical form—mainly demons and celestials, but the dead as well.

I had mixed feeling about getting one for her. On one hand, it would be easier for Caera to help me if she had a physical form and her strength didn’t flux day to day. She’d have more freedom too. On the other hand, it would be costly and also allow her to be more wicked.

Currently, she couldn’t venture far from the house. She also had to monitor her energy usage or risk being out of commission for a few days. But if she had a spelled body… She’d tease me at home more and wherever we went. She’d plan more tricks, like the one she pulled with Valzok recently.

The sex would be different too.

Keep reading

5 notes · See All
starlling-writes·4 days agoText

Series Rating: 18+
Chapter Contains: mild suggestive themes
Pairing: f/f
Banner by me; stock photo sources here
Writing Masterlist

image

During Brumalis, Caera had found a vendor who specialized in making life-sized dolls for possession. They were temporary things used by those lacking physical form—mainly demons and celestials, but the dead as well.

I had mixed feeling about getting one for her. On one hand, it would be easier for Caera to help me if she had a physical form and her strength didn’t flux day to day. She’d have more freedom too. On the other hand, it would be costly and also allow her to be more wicked.

Currently, she couldn’t venture far from the house. She also had to monitor her energy usage or risk being out of commission for a few days. But if she had a spelled body… She’d tease me at home more and wherever we went. She’d plan more tricks, like the one she pulled with Valzok recently.

The sex would be different too.

It was such a unique experience to sleep with a ghost. Her incorporeal touch had addicting qualities. It also had limits. Having a body would only switch what limitations she had. And would she be offended if I preferred being with her in one form over the other? It was doubtful; though the question still pressed on my mind.

After a lengthy discussion and some days of thinking and sorting finances, I applied for a permit to get a doll. Grove ended up being the official who interviewed Caera and me. He was glad to see us hitting it off so well and immediately approved us.

Now we just had to deal with finding her the right body.

I hadn’t known it’d be such a tedious process until our meeting with the specialist, Thorald. When I saw how many crates he brought with him, I felt a tad guilty. “If I had known you’d be bringing so much, I’d have offered a transport spell.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckled and shook his head. “This is nothing.”

I offered to help bring them inside but he declined. I almost felt guilty about that too, but he moved them all so effortlessly. Perhaps his strength was a perk of being a living doll himself. He began setting the dolls up for her to test before I even properly introduce myself or Caera.

“So, Miss Witch, tell me more about the spirit who will live in the doll.”

“Caera? Well she’s my maid. It’s what she did while she was alive. Um—She… I’m sorry, I don’t really know what kind of information you need.”

“Let’s start with race. We can make a doll to look like how she did when she was alive—especially if you have any photos of her.”

“That I actually don’t know,” I admonished. It had never occurred to me to ask and now it felt strange to. She’d always just been a ghost to me.

“I’m half drow, half dwarf,” Caera spoke up. “Though I’m fine with whatever appearance my Mistress would prefer.”

I wish she had a solid form already so I could properly glare at her. I was still adjusting to her using that title in front of others. Thorald was unfazed; then again, he didn’t seem highly capable of facial expression.

“Let’s start with finding which materials you resonate with then. My guess, ceramic or metal will be most fitting.”

“How many different materials do you make dolls from?” I asked, not realizing I was about to send him in an enthusiastic ramble.

“Any and everything really. We’re always experimenting and expanding—looking to see how to best synergize the soul with a surrogate body. Sometimes, dolls require an assortment of materials for best results. Some customers need to even go from needing say, wood only, to needing a more processed material like metal. There are so many variables and possibilities. The work is never ending.”

His love for his work was blinding.

Thorald talked Caera through the process on how to possess and control the dolls. I thought it would be similar to if she possessed me, but since the dolls lacked life and proper nervous systems and such, they were trickier to move. He started going into detail but the magics were well beyond my grasp.

As suggested, Caera started with a porcelain doll. It took some time and coaching before she managed to open the eyes and move the limbs a fraction. Not much else, though. We moved on from one doll to the next with very mixed results. Thorald took meticulous notes the entire time. Since there was nothing for me to do, I started cooking and worked on some simple charms to sell.

“This is useless!” Caera groaned twenty-some minutes later. I glanced over at them to see what was going on.

“I know it feels that way, but please have faith,” Thorald soothed. “This is complex work and takes time to work out.”

“And if I’m unable to bond with a doll?”

“You will. It’s just taking a bit since you haven’t had physical form in so many years, and there’s nothing to tie you to it.”

Tie her to it? Did he mean a physical element, like blood? “Would using her bones help at all?”

“You have her bones?” I couldn’t tell if his shock was good or bad.

“Well, I’ll have to unbury them and they’re not all there but—yes.”

“Perfect!” he gushed. Oh, good; it was a good thing. “Since she wasn’t newly dead I figured her body was no more. Even if it’s just the bones, the amulet from them should still provide enough of an anchor. If, of course, you’re okay with us turning your remains into an amulet, Caera?”

“I don’t have a use for them. If it’d help, then please, by all means.”

“Perfect.” He scribbled down a note and handed me a paper. “Have them sent here. Make sure you put your case number on the outside.”

“Alright. Is there anything else I need to do?”

“I just need to go over a few more details about what you want your doll to look like. Then we’ll be all done for now.”

“That’s all up to her,” I said and waved my hand dismissively.

“You truly don’t care what I look like, Mistress?”

There was a bit of pain in her voice; it made my heart squeeze. “It’s not that I don’t care—but it’s your body,” I explained softly. “It should be how you want it to be, how you’d feel happiest. It’s not my place to dictate how you should look. I just want your comfort.”

My hand warmed from Caera’s touch as if she had grabbed and kissed it.

“The world needs more hearts like yours.”

— — —

Masterlist
Story:  Previous   —   Next
Character Arc:

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starlling-writes·5 days agoText

anais-ninja-bitch:

inflagrante-delicatessen:

thickness-protection-program:

anarchy-kisses:

Gays not knowing strap means gun and straights not knowing strap means strap on has been the funniest miscommunication on the Internet so far

“Get the strap!”

Look, ever since I learned what prosthetics existed, I’ve been endlessly amused by the ambiguity within the phrase “You packin’?”

yep, that too.

Person A: you packin?
Person B: ??
Person B: …do you mean heat, or meat?
Person A: ???!?!

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starlling-writes·5 days agoText

irresponsible-black-unicorn:

I really am a fan of the classy military look haha. Thrift stores are TRULY the best haha

I need to iron it buuuut also I got waaaay very with my finger work

And I will always be extra ALWAYS

Hey Gabe. You + military coat + this = 💜💜💜💜

[gif source]

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starlling-writes·6 days agoText

starlling-writes:

write-it-motherfuckers:

Your heart ached with grief as you listened to the creatures dying breaths. To witness the end of such a magnificent creature, was heartbreaking, especially knowing that it was no natural death. 

Though you knew you were in danger here, you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to leave them to die all alone. Your hand moved in tender motions over the bridge of their nose as you sat there with them, your tears falling steadily as you watched its breaths grow weaker, ignoring the blood that dripped from it’s mouth to pool around you.

It was calmer now, eyes silently watching you as you provided it company, though it hadn’t been so trusting at first. It seemed to know that it’s time had come, and accepted it in a way that you still hadn’t, though you knew there was nothing you could do.

A particularly painful sounding breath made you swallow thickly, barely fighting back a sob that wanted to break free. It was difficult not to breakdown, but you studiously ignored the grisly scene around you, focusing on the creatures comfort instead, and wishing that you could ease their pain. 

It wasn’t fair that they were dying like this, but lots of things in life weren’t fair. The very least you could do was stay with them until they passed. 

No one deserved to die alone.

This makes me think of another prompt of yours—the one where there’s a deadly, captive creature and you’ve been called in to “take care of it” but you realize the creature is really scared and has only defended itself from people… This prompt sounds like the very sad ending to that prompt.
— — — 

It’s slow at first, and there are hiccups along the way, but more and more you build a trust with the creature and are able to start studying it. You are the only one whom the creature will tolerate. This sits precariously with the people in charge. They come to you with interest of taming the creature, training it to follow commands. You all but laugh in their face as you explain that it’s too smart to become a simple dog that’ll do tricks—especially when, up until you showed up, it was treated so horribly.

A month or so passes since that talk.

When you arrive at the lab, it’s in chaos. On instinct, you run for the sector where the creature is kept. The further you press on, the further your heart sinks. The shouts only get louder. You turn a corner and hesitate for a moment as you process all the physical damage to the building before you. And the corpses. You race off again, calling out for the creature as you do, praying you’ll somehow find it safe and unharmed.

Then you hear the wail. That soul shuddering, piercing screech you had heard when you first met the creature. It became harder to see as you navigated through the wreckage. The wail echos again. You choke on a sob as you follow the sound.

A third time the creature cries out. This time, the sound cuts off with a yelp.
You climb over a piece of broken wall and avoid the wires dangling from the ceiling. A piece of metal cuts you hand but you don’t care. You can think of nothing else as you force your way into the ruined lab and watch the creature, bleeding  and staggering, turn and look towards you. It gives a weak, sorrowful trill—the sound it used to happily greet you with—then collapses on the floor.

How dare they. How dare they!

You fight you way to its side, fall to you knees, and pull it onto your lap. You comfort it as much as you’re trying to comfort yourself. This isn’t how things should have gone. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper to it as you gently rock back and forth. You don’t have anything on you to help dull its pain—not that you still have your bag on you; you dropped it at some point on your way here.

Your tears dry as rage fills you. But you temper it, keeping it careful caged inside. It isn’t time for that yet; your friend needs you more.

“They will pay for hurting you,” you sooth. “They will pay for killing you.”

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