#Aquatic Horror

[interact-if]

Hi I was wondering if you had any sea based horror recs.

Hi Anon,

While we have a few rec lists for Horror, we didn't find many for Sea-based ones:

Bycatch by VOWTogether

The Edge of Dawn by @elysianfiction

No Demo:

Let Me Drown by @letmedrown-if

Waterbound by Waterbound-Interactive

[girlfromthecrypt]

The sea breeds giants. So did I.

(TW: forced impregnation; non-graphic, basically implied. Also non-human.)

When I was young, I became aware of a peculiar talent of mine. When in the sea, I can dive as deep as I want without ever having to come up for air. The pressure seems to have no effect on me, either. The ocean turned into my playground.

I was born and bred in a small coastal town. Growing up, I came to know by heart the sound of the waves crashing against the rugged shore and the smell of salt carried across the land by every breeze, hanging in the air with every breath. My parents were never reluctant to let me go swimming by myself. Whether that was out of faith and trust in nature or simple negligence I'll never know, but I was grateful for it nonetheless. I wouldn't have had it any other way. When I went down to the beach, I would always go alone. I'd always return to the same desolate little spot that was all my own. Nobody ever found me there. Nobody ever wandered by.

I started, quite literally, testing the waters. I'd stay under for longer each time, exploring new depths at every opportunity. The further I swam, the more I saw of the world below. The masses of water didn't crush me as they would have a similarly unprotected body.

The volume of air in my lungs never seemed to decrease with my descension, and I never felt so much as a hint of pain when surfacing. I could open my eyes and my vision would be just as good as on land. Furthermore, I could swim faster than what should have been possible. Occasionally, I'd get so lost in the motion that I'd swim for a couple minutes only to then come up, turn and find that I couldn't see the shore anymore.

I did encounter a bunch of creatures that had intentions of eating me, but I was able to escape every last one of them, always getting away without so much as a scratch. Sometimes, I actually found it exhilarating. I know just how dumb I was being, willfully putting myself into danger, but at the time, I felt invincible.

There I was, a tiny human exploring the dark, vast expanses others were so intimidated by—all on my own. It was a deeply spiritual experience. I was by myself, sometimes so deep underwater that I could hardly see the light from above at all anymore. It was these pitch-black spaces that truly intrigued me. While I could see much better in the darkness than most people, it was still kind of… off-limit. These areas somehow struck me as distinctly more threatening, more dangerous and unnerving than just the wide, open sea.

They were yawning, abysmal maws, practically brimming with mystery. Then one day, I just… did it. I swam further and dove deeper than ever before. I plunged into the darkness, into the murky cold. I had never minded the freezing temperatures, and I didn't now. I was solely focused on what was below, without a clue on what I expected to find. I figured there had to be something amazing. Or perhaps there was nothing there for me to see. Maybe I was simply doing it to prove to myself that I could go the distance.

Perhaps I really didn't think I would discover much. Which made it all the more surprising when I spotted a greenish-blue glow in the distance. It immediately drew my attention and I started moving towards it, slower than before but just as deliberate. While a primal sense of dread began to creep further up in my chest with every stroke that carried me closer to the unearthly light, my curiosity far outweighed my apprehension. The colder and deeper it got, the brighter it became. Where in the world was it coming from?

I kept steadfastly heading towards it, until I could finally make out the source. When I realized it, I stopped, freezing mid-movement. Floating in the dark masses of water, seemingly endless widths and depths both above and below me, I was hovering motionlessly in the void of space. And staring at me from within the blackness beneath was an enormous glowing eye.

It sat within a horrid face, above a mouth so big it could have easily swallowed me whole, and a dozen people more. It opened its maw a mere slither, revealing rows upon rows of needle teeth, each one longer than I was tall. The body this head was attached to was so gargantuan that the better part of it remained invisible to me, hidden in the nebulous spheres of the bottom. I cannot describe to you the fear that I felt in that moment.

It wasn't just the terrifying sight in front of me, not just the teeth and glowing eyes; it was the sheer size of this monstrosity. I suddenly felt like I was merely a grain of sand on a big, long beach—a tiny speck among billions so easily carried away with each lap of the tide. If I was the grain, then this was the wave. Hulking, mighty, boundless; unaware of such a minute little being as myself, unaware and uncaring. If this creature were to swallow me, I would forever be forgotten, and it would live on none the wiser of my panic in the face of its vastness.

I stayed perfectly still, floating in place despite the icy currents pushing and pulling at my body. Stayed perfectly still, my blood frozen, my heart in my stomach as the snake's giant eyes bored into me. I knew then and there that I had been wrong.

This being was aware of me. And when I heard the voice in my head, the tiniest of whispers, I realized that it was even more than that.

"You are very small for a thing with purpose."

I don't know how I responded. I suppose I simply thought the words, but somehow, the Ancient did hear my question.

"What are you?" I asked the thing in the dark.

"I am."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Not if I can help it."

Despite the relatively soothing nature of these words, there was an undertone to the murmur they were spoken in. There was calculation there, raw and vicious.

"Will you let me go?"

"Afterwards."

I kept staring, my thoughts racing as I feverishly contemplated whether to flee or to linger. Something told me that if I moved a single muscle, I would be sucked into the space behind those needle teeth within a heartbeat.

"I have a need for you."

My throat constricted when a strange fog seemed to ooze from the creature's body; swirling, misty tendrils mixing with the water and enveloping me in their strange pale haze.

"What is this?" my mind cried out in terror.

I struggled, kicking and flailing to maneuver my rigid form out of this strangely contaminated zone. For the first time in my life, swimming did not come effortlessly. Through my clouded vision, I could see the unearthly green light slowly fading as the Ancient shut his eyes, masses of water shifting as it sank down to the very bottom once more.

I was then hurled up to the surface by a current that dragged me almost the entire way back to shore. I was swept onto dry land by the waves, and on the beach I laid, trembling in the summer sun as my eyes gazed into the far too bright sky. When I was found, I was burnt and blistered and covered in my own vomit. A group of surfers happened upon me by chance and took me to a nearby hospital. It took three of them to carry me. My stomach had swollen to the size of a beach ball.

The doctors couldn't explain it. Neither to myself nor my parents. Without ever having known intimate human contact, I was pregnant. The unborn baby was growing rapidly. I was rendered immobile by its weight and size merely three days after the conception. A week later, I gave birth. I don't remember any of it, having been sedated during the process. But I can still see the faces of the medical staff looming over me, the last image from before I fell asleep etched into the folds of my brain. Their eyes wide open, features contorted in shock and disbelief.

My daughter was released into the sea a couple weeks after her birth. I hadn't yet regained my ability to walk, so my father carried me down to the shore to watch as my baby slithered into the shallows and disappeared in the waves. During her brief time on land, her weight had already doubled and tripled. Nobody had any idea what to do with her besides letting her go.

It's been two years since then. I haven't set foot into the water since I met the Ancient, and I avoid the beach however I can. But yesterday was different. Yesterday, something enormous washed ashore. I recognized the Ancient by the form of his severed head and his lifeless round eyes. I recognized the father of my child. There was no trace of the rest of his body, except the red that tainted the shallows. I don't know if the Ancient had envisioned this end for himself, but whatever the case, I felt light as a feather gazing upon his mangled remains.

Thank you, baby girl.

______

OOC: Hi! Followers of mine who have migrated from nosleep likely know this story already, but since I'm still getting the hang of this whole Tumblr-thing, I figured I'd post it here, too. Basically as a test, though I guess I'll pull a lot of other stories from there over here, too. Either way, this is a a dark one I'm rather proud of. I hope you guys enjoyed!

[chestersbraincell]

“Come with me to the deep dark emptiness,

to try to understand it’s ways

and though it may take our children,

you’ll understand the beauty of the stinging burning pain that will rain down upon us

As it fills the deep dark emptiness

As you learn to fly

As you learn there is another layer to reality”

had a very odd sort of eldritch aquatic themed dream that inspired this little cryptic free-writing piece

If you’re curious at the “end” of the dream it turned out it was a movie I was watching, though most of it I experienced from the POV of a father, who finds himself dragged in by his wife into the business of preparing “the emptiness”(a dark, void-like lake) for “the arrival”, by removing various aquatic life from the lake, which then attacked our two boys, who seemingly were erased from existence by the end of the film. “The arrival” consisted of many a huge glowing jellyfish raining down slowly into the lake from the sky, but as this happened we learned that the lake we were standing in was just a separate layer of water and that we too were submerged, and could thus swim upwards towards the sky, avoiding the stings of the jellyfish.

[ecoevoexo]

wow! all of a sudden i'm a published writer!

i've had two stories come out in print in the past three days.

check out "Everything You Dump Here Ends Up in the Ocean", a story about lesbians, pollution, mad science, and the end of the world as we know it in the aquatic horror collection Fish Gather to Listen from Horns and Rattles Press

and also! check out "A Mistake You Can't Ever Come Back From" in the collection That Old House: The Bathroom presented by Voices From The Mausoleum

finally, reminder that every tuesday Hungry Shadows Press is posting (for free) a 100-word story for Deadly Drabbles Tuesday, and you can catch my story "Bare" on December 5!

thank you and have an eerie good time!

[cannibalspicnic]

I love horror so much it is my comfort genre

[shehungers]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 18+ | 2.8k

your granduncle claims that the noises coming from the basement were rats trying to escape drowning in the ocean outside the lighthouse and scavenging for food. more than being surprised by his audacity, you're astonished he hasn't noticed all the missing raw meat, yet...

story warnings; dark content, the creature is imprisoned, explicit sexual details, double penetration, ig the creature is experiencing some sort of rutting season?, some graphic + grotesque details, heavy prose + details, roughly proofread.

reposted from my deleted blog: theoxenfree.

this is an old concept piece for a larger story.

if you enjoyed, please support my work by leaving feedback and reblogging!! 💖

Uncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Granduncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, granduncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Granduncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much at the bottom: a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brung a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

“Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by gooseflesh as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

“Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n; not even gonna lie, when I did a brief reread of this to apply warnings at the top, I burst out laughing at some parts. oh, past me, what were you thinking?

if y'all wanna see this rewritten and updated to better fit my current style, please let me know!

[bornulhuu]

Bhelnesse is an ancient deity of the water. Whatever body of water it resides in, is of twisted space and time. As when entered it's infinitely larger and darker than from the outside. Prehistoric and future sea-life swims in the murk and Bhelnesse swims on towards some unknown goal or destination. It sometimes communicates to people through dreams, calling them to join it. If they do, they are turned into aquatic reptile-men and swim alongside it, serving it, cleaning it, bringing it prey. And when its their time to expire, their god devours them.

[igorlevchenko-blog]

Icewind dale: Portrait of an aquatic troll (a.k.a. scrag).

A scrag is a marine troll, a gilled form of the common troll. A scrag is found in a large body of water, as it needs considerable room to hunt. The coloration of a scrag runs from blue-green to olive, and its forelimbs are shorter and weaker than ordinary trolls. The freshwater scrag is smaller than a normal troll and has heavy scales and less formidable claws, but its enlarged lower jaw bears many small, very sharp fangs.

[ketchupandaxe]

hello ! could you do jellyfish npts ? like the sea creature

*Jellyfish NPTS!

Names/Nicknames

Jello, Jell, Glen, Gell, Jelly, Veil, Bubble, Jule, Gem, Sea, Sean, Shaun, Aqua, Reef, Coral, Moon, Zap, Ocean.

Pronouns

Jelly/Jellyself, Fish/Fishself, Jellyfish/Jellyfishself, Ocean/Oceanself, Sea/Seaself, Reef/Reefself, Coral/Coralself, Bubble/Bubbleself, Zap/Zapself, Sting/Stingself, 🪼/🪼self,⚡️/⚡️self, 🫧/🫧self, 🌊/🌊self.

Titles

Electric (pronoun), One Who Resides In The Ocean, One Who Lives In The Sea, Electrifying, Swimming One, Jellyfish Soul.

[rxttenfish]

quite frankly im still pissed that Our Wives Under The Sea is considered part of booktok. like. still hate seeing it in bookstores displayed next to Fairy Omegaverse.

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Hc that different types of elves are able to use magic in different ways/to different levels.

I will be focusing more on the avari and silvan elves as i am known to do:

Magic, in this sense, is more like the life force that flows through everything and everyone. Elves generate an extra amount of it which, they then can use through pathways in their body. Humans and dwarves, etc, are rarely able to use magic to an effective result bc they don’t generate as much as elves and aren’t built with the pathways to access it, though dwarves can occasionally channel the magic around them into the objects they create.

Silvans actually have a surprisingly high level of magic usage, even more than their valinorian counterparts, though most of it is passive. A surprising amount of people will hear “silvans can communicate with trees” and then never proceed to link it to magic usage. Of course it varies silvan to silvan, but a well trained silvan can actively use magic to protect and defend and lay down wards. Their link with the world around them through trees also allows them to boost their own magic when they need it. It’s because of this especially why silvans do not like being underground. Thranduil and Legolas are actually rather adept magic users, though they don’t show it off.

There’s also a type of elf that cannot use magic at all. These are the Fawneli elves. They are considered the strongest elves in the world, to the point they can pick up boulders the size of a palace and toss them about without breaking a sweat. They’re fast and their hardy. They are also referred to as “mini-giants” because it is as if someone took a giant and shrunk them, but kept all their strength in tact. However, in return for this strength, they are unable to use even the slightest bit of magic and are completely cut off from it. The Fawneli are mostly desert elves, and nomads. They don’t have a governing body and sadly most of them were hunted down and enslaved, which was made easier due to their vulnerability to magic of all kinds. There’s only a few dozen left in the world by the end of the third age.

If silvans were magic positive, and the Fawneli were magic neutral, than the Okreans are magic negative. Not only are they capable of seeing through any magic disguise of anyone, including maia and vala, but they are also mostly immune to any and all magic thrown at them. Whenever they are around, magic actively deteriorates. As a result, they are elves of science. And, as a result, the Valar do not like the Okreans as they see them as a threat bc of this immunity. Because the Vala saw them as a threat, they massacred the Okreans, with Tulkas and Orome themselves coming down to kill off these elves, during the second age. Only 8 Okreans surivied, including Kleoyia (though she was only 8 at the time), and they were cursed by the vala to live in agony untill they either killed themselves, or lost themselves to madness.

The Atric Elves share their magic with the forms of beasts. Individually, they cannot cast it the way most do, but rather they obtain the form of animals with their magic and get power through that. The Atric elves live in the the far north, mostly in the arctic circle, and thus tend to share the forms of arctic animals, whether they be from the land, air, or sea.

Aquatic elves are, as the name describes, elves that live in bodies of water, emphasis on in. Way back at the lake, they decided that the water was much safer than land, and so they took a plunge and never looked back. Aquatic elves are often refered to as mer-folk or sirens. Parts of their body take on shapes of aquatic life, and they come in many shapes and sizes. They have abit of a rivalry with the Atric elves, specifically the Atric elves that shape-shift into aquatic animal forms, as they compete for food. The silvans, however, they have a good trade relationship with. The Aquatic elves will provide silvans with good seafood, and in turn the silvans will give them a lot of land meat and vegetables the Aquatic elves can’t reach.

Sucian elves are probably the most common of Avari elves. They are also referred to as spiritual elves. Their magic mostly comes from their own power, and many will use tools in order to aid themselves. There are two major Sucian elf empires: the Bali’tsa empire and the Qitian empire. What is unique about the Sucian elves is that they can pass on their power to others, though it is extremely difficult. It is also the most diverse of the magic types, and tends to be more unique to each family.

Lastly you have the Agpetian elves, who get their power assigned to them, assumably by Eru himself. As far as i’m aware there’s no rhyme or reason as to why they get the magic they get, but when a child becomes 100 days old, their magic will display itself. As a result, they tend to be a little more…. Religious? Than other avari, though they do not worship or care for the valar at all.

[p4ll3t]

been thinking up some more rotpocalypse scenarios with my own scugs and environments after the new video/animation on Rotpocalypse

[maelstromshelm]

Spooktober: Ghost ft. My rpg protag’s mother

Aquatic worms go crazy I fear

[cfstuff]

28: Bloop Creature

[cragelekker]

An infected Piscciss Volann can swallow a whole prey alive, taking it to the nest to have more hosts, in addition to being able to tear flesh with its several layers of teeth like a blender. Not even land is safe, as these monsters can now crawl out of the water

[kittypyuun]

Yall wanted dondon but TOO BAD!!!!!! SURPRISE LEON MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!