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surielstea · 7 months ago

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Sunshine in the Shade

Based on this request

Pairing: Azriel x DayCourt! Reader

Summary: Reader can't stay in the night court for long when she's bound to day. Azriel and her have to share a goodbye.

Warnings: minimal angst but mostly fluff

A/N: sorry this took me so long to get out, I was struggling figuring out the concept of the original req, I'm still not very happy with it but I hope you guys enjoy nonetheless :) p.s I had to repost cuz my tags weren’t working, sorry if you were notified twice lol.

2.9k words

"That's a lie!" I throw a piece of popcorn at a giggling Morrigan. "Nuh-uh," She shakes her head with a big grin. "I'm The Morrigan I only speak the truth," She shrugs and I roll my eyes, clutching my bowl of popcorn to my chest as she claims 'I'm the prettiest girl she's ever seen'.

"Shut up," I scoff as she wraps her arms around my shoulders and hugs me close. "I mean it," She croons. "Azriel's a lucky male, don't you think Fey?" Her arms slip from around me as she turns to look at the High Lady. "She gets it from her Father," Feyre intoned with a mouthful of chocolate cake and I rolled my eyes at the mention of the High Lord of the Day Court.

It was late in the afternoon, so late that it'd be night soon. I shake my head, trying not to think about when the moon meets the stars. I stifle a sigh and lean on the railing of the roof atop one of Rhysand's many estates, staring out at the three males who were flying around each other like boys again.

When I was seven, my father was an apprentice for spell cleaving. He had been practicing warding spells when I had come into the room with a bright grin on my face excited to show him my new drawing. In a moment of distraction, his spell had shot straight into my heart, the effects irreversible. We hadn't found out the full extent of the spell until we had been traveling to different courts for meetings and as soon as the sun slipped from the sky and night began to rule, my heart stopped beating and I was hospitalized for weeks.

So I was only allowed to leave during the day, as long as I came back right before sunrise. A rule that made it impossibly challenging to see my mate, who happened to be darkness incarnate.

I take a sip of my wine as I watch Azriel soar with his brothers, a rare smile on his face that makes adoration bloom in my chest. "That boy loves you," Amren hums from beside me and I roll my eyes, tearing them away from my mate to look over at her. "No shit," I scoff and a snarky smile curves her lips. "No, he loves you," She murmurs, eyes on the three boys as they laugh amongst each other. "I've never seen him so happy in all the years I've been around him, don't ruin that," She looks at me and it's as if she can see straight through me to my bare soul, past the flesh and bone and to my inner core that held the truest version of me. "What do you—" I begin but I'm cut off by a gust of wind as a figure lands on the railing that I leaned on. "Fly with me," A familiar voice says as Azriel bends down and cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look up at him. "You won't pretend to drop me like last time?" I narrow my eyes on him, forgetting about Amrens words now that he was here, cradling my face. "Nope," He bites at his bottom lip like he always does when he lies to me. "I know you're lying," I sing and he grumbles a curse, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips. "Ok, promise I won't." He smushes my cheeks together. I can't help but put every ounce of my trust in him and believe what he says. I nod and he doesn't need any further consent than that.

He swoops me up into his arms and with a few beats of his wings, we were soaring up into the blue sky. I tighten my hold around him with a small squeal. I had a horrible fear of heights, it was foolish to be terrified of a few hundred feet in the air when literal monsters were walking amongst Prythian but it's something that's always affected me. With Azriel, though it was different, he loved flying so much, and that smile on his face beat any fear I had.

"I won't drop you," He promised. "I know, but," I look down, dread filling my stomach at the long drop. We were higher than mountain peaks. He pulls me closer to him. "Hey, look at me," He said and I obeyed, eyes pinned to his. "Don't look down, keep your eyes on me," He hummed and I nodded. "Feels nice, doesn't it?" He tilts his head I swallow thickly, still thinking about the ground that was so very far away.

"Hey, look at me," He repeats with more stress on his words and so I do, I look into his eyes, at the smile on his lips, the dimples on his cheeks. I feel the summer breeze on my skin and hear the laughter of my friends still on the rooftop. "I love you," I confess, hands loosening around his neck and running them through his hair. He smiled, beaming at the words. "I love you more," He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I grin, then giggle as he dips down onto my neck, his nose tickling it. Cassian soars by with a large smile on his face. "No kissing and flying!" The Illyrian shouted over his wingbeats and Azriel's lips halted on my neck while I threw my head back in laughter, remembering the last time Azriel got too lost in kissing me and stopped flying momentarily, putting all of his attention to my lips instead. We dove for only a second before he regained consciousness. But ever since then, Azriel wasn't allowed to put his lips anywhere near mine while flying.

My head lifted back up and I looked at him with a loving smile, fingers coiled in his hair as he stared at me like I hung every star in the sky.

My breath hitched as the sun began to melt into the horizon. My smile faltered and morphed into a frown. "You've gotta go?" He asks and I nod with a pout, looking at him with saddened eyes. "The daughter of the sun can't stay in the night court for long," He murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple as he navigates us back to the rooftop, leaving Rhys and Cass.

"I'm sorry Az, I want to stay," I say. "I know, it's okay my love," He places my feet down onto solid land and even if I am afraid of heights, I'd much rather be up in the air instead of down here, signaling my exit.

"It's only for the night," He shrugs, settling down onto the railing of the rooftop though despite his reassuring words, something in his gaze told me he wouldn't be sleeping until he saw me again. "Oh, Az," I crash into him with enough force to knock us both over the railing but he doesn't falter, only embraces me back as I hug him tightly. "Why don't you come with me?" I ask and he tilts his head down at me with a frown. "You know your father will kill me," He shakes his head. "I don't care, I'm nearly four hundred years old, I can do what I want," I say. "And I want you," I cup his cheeks, analyzing his features as if I'll forget them. "Except you can't," He murmurs with a sad smile on his face, his thumb pulling slightly at my lower lip.

My shoulders slump and I wrap my arms around him yet again, nuzzling my nose into his shoulder. "Fly me back?" I asked softly into his neck. My fear of flying was outmatched by another moment with him.

"I was planning on it," He pressed kisses atop the crown of my head but neither of us backed up, just staying in that warm, comforting position until the sun got too low in the sky and I knew it was time to go.

"Bye, guys! See you in a month!" I wave to the others with a fake grin across my features. They all bid their farewells with pitying smiles on their faces. "I'll miss you," Mor tangles her arms around me, tearing me from a disgruntled Azriel. "Not as much as I'll miss you," I sing, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Well now I’m sun-kissed," She holds a hand to where my lips were and I giggle, pulling away and going back into Azriel's arms who was grumbling something about the joke being dumb, but I knew he was just jealous.

"Alright, alright, let's go," Azriel swoops me off my feet and carried me bridal style before Mor could get another word in— then took off to the skies, the cool wind nipping at my cheeks as we rose above the mountain peeks and begin navigating south, in the direction my mate's flown me countless times. "Bye Rhys!" I wave to the High Lord as we pass him. "Awe is it that time already!" Cassian whined, soaring to his brother's side with an apparent frown on his face. "I'll be back don't worry," I grin over at him. "I have no doubt you will," He sighs then turns back without another word and joins a waving Rhys.

About twenty minutes of flying later I knew the sun was too low in the sky to be excusable any longer.

"Az I gotta winnow," I say tiredly, hand cradling the side of his neck. "You have to be tired, plus you still have to fly back," I explain and he shakes his head. "I could fly you around for days." He reassured and I frowned up at him. "You know I have to leave," I huff. "I know," He nods. I lean upward and press a gentle, yearning kiss to his lips.

"No kissing and flying, remember?" He mumbles onto my lips. I smile at the recollection, pressing my mouth harder to his. "I'll see you soon, okay?" I whisper and he nods with creased brows and an aching heart.

His scarred fingers dig into my thigh, searing his touch into me in case I ever forgot it. "Don't miss me too much, yeah?" I ask and he smiles weakly before uttering, "I'll try."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sigh. "I'll be there to pick you up," He reassured and my grin faltered, then as a silent goodbye, I pressed my lips to his, holding his face with enough delicacy you'd think he was made of glass. His lips press harder onto mine. It wasn't lustful or hungry, but it was passionate and full of pining. "Love you, Az," I whisper into his mouth, and before he can reply I winnow away, leaving his arms empty with only the weight of my absence, the bond between us wearing thin as I return back to my native court, a place that no longer felt like home when every element I had of a real home was in Night.

I had winnowed right into the dining room of the Day Palace, my plate already on my spot at the table. "You're late," My father grumbled, I tossed him a glance. He sat at the head of the table, a girl half-dressed in his lap. "Gods, seriously Dad?" I shield my eyes as I grab my plate, deciding not to eat in front of something that would easily make me lose my appetite. "In my defense, I didn't think you were coming home," He shrugs sassily and I roll my eyes at his behavior. "Yeah whatever, goodnight," I mutter, getting to the large doors leading to the hall. "Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks before I can slip out. "Probably not, Az is coming to get me in the morning," I mutter and he utters a curse. "I never see you anymore," He whines childishly, making a small smile spread across my lips. "I'm sorry but my days are promised to him," I open the door wider. "Unless you're willing to let him join us for dinner sometime?" I offer and he scoffs. "I'm not feeding someone who stole my baby girl," He grumbled. "That's what I thought," I nod. "Night, Dad!" I call before slipping out the door, closing it behind me with a soft click.

I travel down the halls of the palace made of sunstone and opalescent glass, taking bites of my food occasionally but I wasn't all that hungry since I ate with Rhysand's inner circle less than an hour ago. I breathe a deep sigh as I finally arrive at my room, entering then kicking the door shut as I make my way over to my desk, setting my plate and fork down before going over to my armoire and pulling myself out of the lightweight dress I wore, slipping into a nightgown instead as I prepared myself for bed, light still in the sky.

My sleep schedule had been all sorts of messed up, I had the sleeping habits of a five-year-old. Waking up at dawn and going to bed at dusk. It was unfair of me to have Azriel spend every waking hour with me during the day but it was the only time I got to see him, I couldn't spend nights with him, and couldn't sleep in the same bed.

I huff as I slide onto my mattress, pulling the covers up to my chin as my black-out curtains do the best they can to block out any remaining sunlight.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly and attempted sleep for at least an hour before I was finally able to drift off into a light slumber, knowing the sooner I fell asleep, the sooner I'd see my mate again.

——

I wake up to a light sound of thudding outside my window, then a drumming on the glass like someone was tapping against it. But I was on the highest point in the palace, the most protected and secured part of the entire court.

I sit up slightly panicked, but the tapping stops and I suppose it's my imagination, running my hands through my hair and blaming it on being overtired. But as soon as my head hits my pillow once more the sound returns. I spring up and crawl over to my bedside window, pulling up the blackout curtains with a confused expression.

My brows shoot to my hairline as I spot a familiar winged figure on the other side of the glass. I immediately open the window, pushing it to its highest point. "What are you doing here?" I question. "I missed you," Azriel shrugs and I facepalm. "Now scoot over, my wings won't fit with you right there," He gestures to me towards the end of the bed. "Are you insane? You're not coming in," I whisper shout and he frowns. "Why not?" He murmurs sadly. "My dad will kill you if he sees you," I grit out and he shrugs. Gods, I felt like a teenager sneaking my boyfriend in.

"C'mon sunshine," He sighs, his wings slowly flapping as to keep quiet. "We'll be gone by dawn," He reasons and I stifle a curse before moving out of the way and allowing room for him to enter. Shadows protect his wings as he pushes himself through the large window that he made look small.

As soon as he through I tackle him into a hug, pressing kisses along the side of his face. He chuckles, hand coming to the back of my neck. "Thought you didn't want me in here?" He taunts and I move away, looking down at him with a wide grin. "That was before," I shake my head, leaning down and wrapping my arms around his neck, lying atop him as if I couldn't get close enough to him. "Before what?" He scoffs. "Before you were in my bed," I reason. "But now you are and I don't ever want you leaving," I say into his shoulder and he grins brightly. "Have you slept?" I ask, twining my fingers into his hair. I feel him shake his head no and I internally sigh at his insomniac habits. "Alright, c'mon," I pull him up by the collar of his shirt, towards the pillows of my bed. He follows with a content smile, flopping down onto my mattress as I slip in beside him, pulling the blankets over us as I cuddle into his side, head on his chest, arm slung over his torso while he tucks me in close between him and his wing.

"How'd you get past the guards?" I perk up, looking at him puzzled. "I'm the spymaster, aren't I?" He smiles tiredly and I return it. "Not even the pegasuses noticed?" I say with a frown. "How are you so awake?" He asks, his hand coming to my cheek and I shrug. "I'm happy you're here," I explain and his grin widens, his scarred thumb pulling at my lower lip. "Go to sleep, I'll still be here in the morning," He reassured and I believed him.

I hadn't realized just how much I wanted this until I had it. His arms around me, shadows settling over us. We've cuddled before, on couches or daybeds, but nothing like this, not with the intention of sleeping. There was something so intimate about it, how he trusted me enough to fully fall out of consciousness with his arms wrapped around me.

I smile, a warm fuzzy feeling blooming in my chest. I lean up and peck beneath his jaw. "Goodnight, Az," I murmur. "Night sunshine," He softly replies and that was all I needed to hear before I faded into that familiar embrace of sleep.

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y-rhywbeth2 · 4 months ago

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Elven subraces

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest. etc]

(Tel'Quessir only, we're not going into the non-Torillian stuff like snow elves or astral elves)

How many of these bastards could you possibly need, you ask? Well according to the writers there are never enough:

So lore dumps on Moon elves, Sun elves, Star elves, Wood elves, Green elves, Aquatic elves, Winged elves, Dark elves (and their infinite permutations), Lythari, Fey'ri, and Celadrin. And we're not going into the other tiny little pockets of culture like the Llewyrr or the Poscadari.

A brief talk about the mixing of subraces, and then starting the lore dumps off with the moon elves.

(Well, the first half of the moon elves, because I forgot some things after moving onto the star and sun elves and had to add it later)

A note before going into it is that, obviously, elves can be descended from multiple subraces. Mechanically they will take after one parent, usually a mother. In appearance they usually favour one parent over the other, but they may have any mix of traits from their parents.

So a green elf (wood) and a moon elf (high) may produce a child whose 5e character sheet says either wood elf or high elf, with the appropriate stat bonus (3.5e would put them down as green or moon). It takes generations of mixing to produce a distinct subrace as the moon elves and wood elves have.

Canonically:

Shemmithil Maraphiir - better known as Ashemmi - is the daughter of a sun elven mother and a moon elven father. Mechanically she was a moon elf (and identified as one), and she had blonde hair and golden eyes from her mother.

Halanaestra, a tavern-master (barkeeper/pub landlord) on Evermeet is of mixed silver, green and sea elven heritage.

There's also an elven noble house (House Le'Quella) of mixed moon and green heritage.

As the offspring of an elf and a half-elf is mechanically classified as an elf in the Realms it's also possible for an elf to display human genes from a grandparent or more distant ancestor. (Or even a non-human non-elven ancestor).

Elven aging, in DnD baseline canon, features a lifespan of aprox. 750 years. That said, sources have varied and different elven subraces have different average lifespans so I'll mention them. It's also worth noting that these are average lifespans, and even the shortest-lived elven subrace (drow) are known to live into four digit numbers.

Obviously the lore presented is cultural norms and stereotypes, and individual elves may not fit the mould perfectly.

High Elves are sometimes referred to as Eladrin, which also happens to be the name for the closely related celestials/fey who dwell in the Feywild and Arvandor. Generally people just call them elves.

Calling a moon or star elf a high elf may cause confusion, as while there are three subraces that fall into the category it's also one of the terms used to refer to sun elves.

All high elven subraces share the same average heights and weights, standing on average about the same heights as humans (in contrast to elves of other worlds, who tend to be shorter)

Height Range: 4'5" - 6'6", averaging the same heights as humans.

Weight Range: 70 lbs - 250 lbs, lighter than a human of the same height and build - likely due to the comparatively physical fragility and 'delicateness' high elves are known for.

The People of the Moon - Teu'Tel'Quessir

Moon elves, Silver elves, Grey elves*

*A slur used by gold elves who consider them inferiors (and what an elf should not be).

By far the most likely to show ancestry from outside the moon elf gene pool. For example; while moon elven hair skews towards silver-white, they can be seen with hair of any colour.

Hair: silver, white, silver-white, white-blue, white-green, blue, midnight blue, black. Very, very early generations of moon elves had bright red hair, but that gene seems to have died out.

Eyes: Green, blue, grey, silver. A distinct trait of moon elves is that their eyes are always flecked with gold (which catches the light, giving the impression of literal gold or even stars).

Skintone: 'Bleached white' - also likened to ivory, alabaster and snow - with blue undertones, and an affect that's described as being like 'white marble' (which I assume is the blue pattern formed by veins under the skin where it's thin, but that's just my assumption.)

Average Lifespan: 500-900 years. Second longest lived of the elven subraces.

Patron deity: Sehanine Moonbow, deity of death, journeys, transcendence, dreams, mysticism, the night sky with the stars and moon. Moon elven religion is also the only one to officially include Angharradh in the pantheon.

Wandering party elves who may have to show up to work hungover. Individualistic, impulsive, flighty, fun-loving, hedonistic little bastards who tend to take risks and have a horrible ability to judge said risks: Do first, think later. Being alive is a delight, and the purpose of life is to enjoy it to the fullest (and to have the freedom to do so). If you visit Evermeet some of them will board your ship without warning on the way in and drink all your booze while singing bawdy songs. They tend to embrace change, delight in gambling, and see life as something to be enjoyed - other elves simply need to pull their heads out of their asses.

'Life is for the living and is best spent among the lively. Revel in variety and laughter, for all living things can learn and laugh with each other.'

Origin:

Moon elves are descended from the children of Sharlario Moonflower, an adventuring merchant from the Feywild (although his rival personally believed the man to be a pirate). He was staying in the city of Tintageer when it was destroyed by disaster and fled with the survivors to Toril. Said survivors became the gold elves, while he married a green elven priestess of Sehanine Moonbow. Their children inherited his white-blue skin and their mother's devout reverence for the Daughter of the Night Skies and were nicknamed moon elves as a result, they took to wandering as he did and served well as diplomats between the various elven people who had made their home on Toril.

(The Moonflower clan also went on to be the royal family as history progressed, and some sun elven reactionaries have never really forgiven the moon elves for that since that's their place.)

The Road of Life: 'The silver elves strongly believe than an individual must choose his or her path through life.' In the moon elven take on the core elven philosophy there is no one correct way to live life, and every individual must be free to find their own way and chose the path for themselves. It's not the destination that matters, but the journey.

Moon elves have a drive to seek excitement and new experiences; to see and do as much as they can within their lifespan, trying out new things and dropping them for the next as they go. They often spend the longest time in the first stage of the road, characterised by chasing impulse and entertainment, travelling and adventuring, focusing on themselves and their own interests rather than the community - and sometimes lapsing from the second stage (the mature stage where they focus on their society and their place in it) back to the first wanderlust stage in later life. There is no stigma against this however; it's their road to walk and they must walk it as they see fit.

Society:

Moon elves found outside of elven lands are transients, usually travelling in extended family groups. Of course, being elves, their idea of a brief stay has them hanging around in one settlement for years, sometimes several decades. They're likely to own houses and have jobs and long-term friendships before they decide to wander off again.

Their nomadic lifestyle often leads moon elves to pick up multiple languages over the course of their lives.

Due to their history of wandering and mixing with the people they encounter, their culture encouraging a love of fun and new experiences, and the presence of Angharradh in their religious beliefs encouraging strength in diversity, moon elves are the most outgoing and amongst the most open-minded and friendly elves (the others are the copper elves, who share their open-minded outlook but are more settled and reclusive). They do have conflicts - some moon elves are embittered by historical losses at the hands of humans; Evereska has historically been barred to any non-elves save Harpers and elf friends. And sometimes the friction between the clashing ideals of moon and sun elves, as well as their bad history, turns to real enmity rather than their usual 'disapproving family members' treatment. But the philosophical outlook moon elves have drilled into their head from birth, favouring individuality, generally leads them to be willing to treat people as individuals rather than members of their group.

Moon elven houses are the most likely to adopt non-elves into house membership, and often frown upon refusing to legitimise mixed children born to their house.

They usually happily integrate with their neighbours in whatever society they're staying in, though if they feel persecuted or othered they're known to respond by becoming the most obnoxious elven stereotype in order to annoy said neighbours. An elven household in a human city isn't going to have a bedroom and is liable to be covered in plants like some kind of greenhouse (these plants are actually edible - to the elven digestive system, at least), but assuming they like their guest they'll put the plants away and prepare a guest room while hosting. Sometimes the plants are enchanted to levitate to the rafters on command.

Fighters aren't uncommon, but moon elves prefer to approach conflict with a stealth-first mentality; moon elven stories favour heroes who outwit and humiliate their opponents with quick thinking and cunning.

Literature, song and poetry favours light-hearted with a focus on humour - especially dirty humour. They have their share of more solemn and tragic historical tales, but these things have their time and place and don't get the focus.

They like to party and all night revels are a common thing. Gambling games are also a staple of moon elven social life and getting dragged into games of kholiast (a very complicated card game involving dice and a deck of 1000 cars) is to be expected.

Pets are common, especially hunting dogs and birds of prey. They don't seem to care for horses though, preferring their own two feet. On the less common selection are blink dogs, pegasi, unicorns and dragonnes (cat-dragon things).

Moon elven culture doesn't encourage hiding or repressing emotion and many wear their hearts on their sleeves. They have a reputation for mood swinging, going from exuberant joy and merriment to 'the pits of despair and melancholy' and back again at speeds that non-moon elves struggle to cope with. Hiding or repressing your emotions is frowned on, and the stoicism practiced by gold elves is derided as a 'colourless' existence.

Customisation and self-expression in fashion is big. Makeup, especially eyeliner and eyeshadow is well loved. Piercings made of metal are less common, and bone - especially from a deceased loved one or revered ancestor - is favoured. If they use metal it's likely to be silver. Most moon elves having such pale hair means that temporary dyes see a lot of use, and they like painting their nails.

They also enjoy fussing over their hairstyles, and braids, ponytails and hair decorations like beads and wrapped wire are popular.

Some - though not all - moon elves have a tradition of body paint and tattooing in 'mystic patterns,' some of which were appropriated from green elven culture while others were maintained from their mutual ancestors. Body paint and temporary tattoos are far more common as their impermanence makes them more appealing: what if you change your mind about the design later, after all? You can change temporary designs as much as you like when you get a new idea and then put the old one on again later.

Almost as if they're making up for their flighty hedonistic ways, moon elves do take their oaths and responsibilities very seriously: an oath from a moon elf should be a binding contract, and oathbreakers are reviled as the worst sorts.

Adopting the local N'Quess fashions aside, traditional moon elven clothing is relatively simple but favours the highest quality material and construction possible. They enjoy embroidery and customising their own clothes, featuring patterns and beadwork and intricately carved stones. Some even add feathers. Where moon elves feel safe they favour bolder colours - cultural wisdom says 'brighter is better' and your peers respect you more the more ostentatious you go - but in places where they feel threatened they dress conservatively and tone it down to more earthen colours to blend in and avoid notice.

While they have the usual elven love of magic, and delight in experimentation and pushing the boundaries of the Art, moon elves despise black necromancy and its creations - likely a combination of their reverence for Sehanine to whose doctrine undeath is an abomination, and their love of life and freedom (to which undeath, a form of slavery and mock existence, is also an abomination). It is not taught or studied in Evereska, which may actually put them at a disadvantage when faced with hostile necromantic spells. Want to be an elven necromancer? Be ready to live alone.

They don't tend to make very good enchanters though, as few have the patience to sit around for ages doing all the long repetitive work that goes into making and enchanting a powerful item ('Sun elves in particular find this trait somewhat embarrassing' and moon elves respond by saying that think the sun elves' taking decades to make a single object is 'obsessive'). They usually make a bunch simple, weaker enchantments to-go.

Evereska, 'the Fortress Home,' and last major elven civilisation on Faerûn, located in the far North-East of the Western Hinterlands is a moon elven state. It does host sun and wood elven residents, but the city is still founded by and mostly populated by the Teu'Tel'Quessir.

The moon elven reputation for open-mindedness may find itself faltering there thanks to an extremely xenophobic noble population; half-elves are barred from certain privileges, such as membership at the Academy, without the backing of a high ranking elven parent and during the spellplage a rise in xenophobia saw many Evereskan half-elves leave the city. They prefer never to let dwarves of half-orcs in under any circumstances whatsoever. Said noble houses are ancient lineages and think moon elves not part of these esteemed houses are second-class citizens. Non-moon elves and non-elves can get fucked. As ever, Toril's nobility are a deranged world unto themselves and you can't really judge what to expect of a people by their rulers, nor what to expect of the nobility by looking at the average citizen.

(The moon elven noble houses of Evermeet tend to be friendlier.)

Religion:

Silver elves are pious as a people, and their idea of worship is (can you guess?) partying. You start a ceremony with a few moments of solemn prayer, the elven equivalent of an 'amen,' and then immediately start the revel. Festivals end when the last elf collapses from exhaustion sometime in the early morning after.

Sehanine Moonbow features prominently in their worship, and moon elves account for 54% of the membership of her church.

They are also the only elven subrace to remember the triune goddess Agharradh: the queen of Arvandor and a fusion of the deities Sehanine, Hanali Celanil and Aerdrie Faenya. Other subraces may find themselves called to her service but 93% of her total followers are moon elves. Sun elves are the only other elves who know who Angharradh is, and they dismiss her as moon elves misinterpreting Sehanine and consider her worship heretical (though they largely leave the moon elves be).

#Oh Xan of Evereska; you were the worst moon elf ever #Sand traded joy in for schadenfreude and scathing sarcasm #Linu... should not drink. I mean I'm sure it'd be hilarious to watch. From a distance.#Astarion's doing pretty well as an example of moon elvendom except for the vampirism. He hasn't made any oaths to break that I recall #And now bedtime #lore stuff #/astarion #long post #pointy eared stuff

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sigery · 1 year ago

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As long as Blue Moon doesn't eat Chaos' court and keeps his meals out of Chaos' sight, he would be mostly fine. Chaos would hopefully figure out that Blue Moon is dangerous on full moons and make sure his court is safe with him.

Chaos would be willing to help Blue Moon move his stuff, it's not a burden to carry things, especially if the two get along.

Blue Moon is just a little ball of potential drifting along till it finds a home to settle in.

Current Fey (rle)

Chaos is a (ex-church grim) Black Dog. Looks like a oversized Newfoundland dog.

Glitter is a 'brownie'. Used to be a house one but got abandoned. Also walks with a limp after his leg not healing correctly. Travels with Chaos. 8-9 inches, mostly looks the same as usual

Gluttony is kind of a jack frost. technically a fairy but has robin wings instead of insect-like ones so he kind of looks like a mini angel. 8 inches.

Wrath and Sloth are living dolls (mix between raggedy Andy and Elf on the Shelf). Dirty and have a bit of patchwork. Sloth is missing a eye. 12 inches tall when standing straight, usually a little slouchy

#rle fey #fey chaos #crossover stuff #fey blue moon

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naffeclipse · 11 months ago

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I'm honored to reveal that I'm @darthsuki's secret Santa for the DCASS2023 event! When I saw that Howl's Moving Castle was one of the movies you love, I was immediately possessed by this AU for the DCA! I had so much fun crafting this fic along with Eclipse, Sun, and Moon reimagined in such a setting, and, of course, the reader! There is so much fluff and romance; I hope that's alright! Please enjoy!

Eclipse's Moving Daycare

Eclipse & Sun & Moon x Reader (SFW)

You can also read this fic on AO3!

Word Count: ~5,500 Warnings: N/A

In the heart of the castle-like structure, smoothly crawling over the snowy mountain peak with bending, robotic appendages that sink claws into the fresh, cold powder, is a room alight by a fire demon. The creaking and grumbling of the house have long since faded into a familiar drone in the background of your senses. A few candles burn and flicker, dripping hot, white wax. The main source of light, in the late hour on a blistering cold night, emits from Sun in golden radiance.

You stand over the fireplace. It holds a small cauldron upon its embers. Water bubbles and pops with gentle wisps of steam rising, rising up into the chimney. Behind you, the great light of the room begins to shift, shadows leaning away from the approaching presence.

“What is my darling brewing tonight?” The fire demon saunters close behind you. Sun’s voice brushes against your ear, flickering with life so powerful, it only leaves ash in its wake. The heat sinks into your back—a soothing reprise from the chill circling the moving daycare. “Could I be of assistance to your crafting?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind, Sunny,” you say softly.

You turn around to face him, almost squinting your eyes against his brilliance. The fire demon flickers with flames, set soft and low in a gentle yellow light. The energy burns over a body of deep, dark charcoal and embers. Red pulses in between the burnt aspects. His head, large and flat like a disk, flickers with a great grin. The very pale center of his eyes holds a blue tint not unlike the very tips of great flames. A crown of red fire circles his face, and you marvel how he has never once burned you—part of his magic, of course. He decides when and who shall be scorched.

“Oh, you haven’t answered me yet.” He looms over you, the fey-being easily entering your space in the way smoke fills the air. “Is it a special potion? Perhaps a liquid that would set itself on fire should someone sing a sour note? Or a drink for trees that allow them to become ready fuel, set to torch the mountainside for a bit of warmth on this dreary winter day?”

You smile. When does he not suggest you concoct some sort of fiery potion? You certainly don’t recall. The fire demon is what he is.

“Neither,” you answer and strip a thorny branch of herb, dried and well preserved, of its flat fronds. You turn away to toss them into the cauldron. “It’s soup.”

The light of the room dims in the briefest moment before flaring with fresh vigor. Dancing heat becomes almost sweltering at your back before a hot hand slips around your waist, wrapping you up in a cozy embrace. Your eyes flutter when Sun’s mouth presses to your shoulder, sharp teeth grazing your skin exposed by the stretched neckline of your tunic.

“We’ll save the pyromania for later, but soup! Yes, that would warm you and Moon and Eclipse.”

“And you.” You hold up the thin dry branch, as he likes it, to the fire demon’s mouth. “I’ll make it for all of us.”

“Oh, I don’t do well with soup. Too watery for my taste,” he says mournfully.

You watch a lick of flame wrap around the branch and pull it into his mouth, leaving your hand empty. His jaw bumps slightly against your shoulder as he chews, fire splitting and cracking the fuel over his tongue. He swallows and the light grows brighter around you. For a moment, you swear you understand what a candle wick feels like sitting in all that great light. He holds you tighter.

“I will make it so you can consume it, too,” you say, and pat his arm as it hugs your waist. The flames flatten underneath your palm, whipping and flaring at your presence, but never biting. A bit of soot smears across your hand. “Now let me get the rest of the ingredients. You’re holding me captive, love!”

He laughs with the boisterous gale of a bonfire. “How else am I supposed to keep you safe on a freezing night such as this!”

“I’m plenty safe with you here, and I’m in need of soup.” You turn your head to catch his twin flame eyes.

When he lets you go, he does so with a smoking sigh as if you intend to leave the moving daycare rather than simply his embrace. You keep your smile to yourself at his theatrics. He remains before the cauldron as you search a few cupboards, gathering several spices, herbs, and a few bits to toss into the soup. You turn to the kitchen counter, the wood rich brown and well worn with your work.

In a few moments, the great cold of the night has taken hold and your shoulders shiver. Setting the glass jars down, you breathe in a rattling breath. It’s getting worse outside. Over the quiet motions of the building shuffling along is the great howl of wind.

You must hurry with the soup. Eclipse will be home soon.

Taking a few ingredients, you turn back around only to be greeted with a fire in your face. Sun grins, the blue in his eyes dancing brightly. You almost drop the spices in your startle.

“Poor thing, you’re shivering! Allow me to warm you up.” The fire demon coos impishly before taking you by the hand. His warmth laces between your fingers. Your other arm is crooked, cradling the glass jars as Sun lays his hand on your waist, and in the fashion of a waltz, spins you the short distance back to the cauldron.

You gasp, pressed tight to his body with little but spice containers between your heart and the deep red pulsing in the fire demon’s chest. The small clinks of glass echo like notes to the movement of the song Sun carries you along to with his swift steps. His crown of flames waver in excitement, snapping and flickering. He sets you down for a moment.

“Oh, you’re already so pink!” He touches your cheek with hot fingertips before slipping away the spices with a small flick of his hand, magically tugging the jars from your grasp and setting them on the edge of the fireplace. You sputter, head spinning in his fiery whirlwind. “There! Aren’t you toasty?”

“Sun!” you laugh. You lay your hands on his chest as he gathers you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. His heat seeps deep into your body, chasing away the awful chill. “I am making us soup! Let me go, you fiery fiend!”

“Ah, but how can I? You’ve bewitched me.” He twists you around—much to your amusement and surprise, dipping you low as you cling to his shoulders. “My darling, I simply can’t let you grow cold for even a breath.”

You melt like mountaintop snow in spring, his pale, lovely gaze burning with intent so promising. You become warm—not of body, but of soul. Slowly, softly, you find his mouth hungrily reaching. You answer with a soft, chaste press of your lips upon his fire, closing your eyes. The light glows through your thin eyelids, sparking blue at the edges in the center of deep, passionate gold. He has never burned you. He never will.

The light increases until it becomes as bright as noon in summer—as bright as his name.

He brings you back to your feet in a careful rise though his hands have yet to unlock from your waist. The distant boiling of the cauldron sends you back to your senses before you lift your head. You gaze adoringly at the fire demon, tasting cedar-turned-ash on your tongue. Reaching with one hand, you run a few fingers through the brightness of his head flames, now tinged with blue at the very tips.

Oh, he’s satisfied.

“I am making soup, and you can’t seduce me away,” you say firmly, before pecking his fiery mouth once more. His teeth almost catch your bottom lip but you manage to slip away.

“But I’m already starving!” He half cries, placing one arm across his forehead in a swoon-worthy of the theater. “If you leave, I will vanish into smoke and soot!”

You reach up into a cupboard dusted with black powder and snatch up one lump of coal, small enough to eat in one bite, and turn around. You promptly set it into Sun’s mouth. His wail is muffled by the press of your fingertips until he begins chewing with a rather disgruntled look. The blue in his eyes pales slightly.

“I’m glad to see you have an appetite.” You smile. “Save the rest for soup.”

The heat lingering in your fingers is warm and tingly. You quickly snatch up a small wicker basket from the counter. The yellow light of the fire demon follows at your back as you make your way across the large living space, the cold quickly returning. Then, you enter a long hallway.

“Stay here,” you call over your shoulder, “I need to fetch a few things from Moon’s room and he doesn’t like you in there.”

A protest around a mouthful follows but you’ve already knocked and quietly opened the door, the room thick with darkness, before shutting it behind you. The fire demon is left in the heat of the living space.

You stand in Moon’s room. The clotting blackness hangs like a mist around your shoulders. You squint into the dark collection of shelves and small comforts, such as loveseats and chaise lounges and of course, several beds shoved up against the wall. You’re not certain if he sleeps in any one of the furnishings—if he sleeps at all.

“Moon?” you call out softly.

The nightly shade shifts in the slightest. Tendrils of shadow creep around you, waving like the petals of a flower before you feel a hand slip over your hip from behind and another hook under your jaw to take your chin.

“Hello, jewel,” he rasps low in your ear. A cool but pleasant shudder falls down your spine.

“Hello, scarecrow.” You allow him to tug you around to face his shadowy visage, his hand caressing your cheek as you gaze up at the fey-being. “Might I get into the food storage? I need beef and potatoes along with a few other vegetables.

His eyes, round as moons and pale red, drink you in. Underneath the brim of an old, sun-bleach straw hat that he stole from a scarecrow, the shadow demon tilts his head to an unnatural degree. A curve of silver light flashes across half of his face, like a coin winking under midnight light.

“Of course.” His body stretches slightly, thin and elongated, like darkness at sunset. A few inky colors of red flare out around his neck and waist, the cold energy wavering about him, before his hands hook into your hips. You gasp once when he effortlessly lifts you off your feet and carries you to a chaise lounge dyed a deep ocean blue.

Your eyes slowly adjust to the stark dimness when he sets you down. He kneels to sweep your ankles up and lay your legs across the couch.

“Moon, I need to get a few things,” you remind gently.

“I’m aware.” He, in a blink of darkness, has your basket in his hand where it swings slightly from side to side. His smile flashes with teeth reflecting a bony color. “Stay here.”

“If you insist,” you give with a chuckle. You lean back until you’re reclined on the cushy backrest, feeling much too elegant for someone who still has potion stains on their apron. “It’s dark now. You can come out. Sun is in the living space with me, helping me cook.”

“ Helping ,” the shadow demon echoes incredulously.

You snicker.

“Yes, he is, and I need your help as well.”

Moon slips into the darker corner that your weak human eyes can’t decipher. Soft rummaging echoes. The storage space is under a hatch in this room, and seeing as it was already so dark behind, Eclipse allows Moon to claim it as his own—provided that Moon allows you access to whatever ingredients you require when you are in need.

You can’t think about Sun’s room without wincing at the amount of ash, gold relics, half-burnt walls, and little fires no doubt still running rampant in there. Eclipse placed a clever spell to keep it from spreading to the rest of the rooms and daycare.

The darkness moves as if ripples in water. You try to peer at a few dolls nestled onto a top shelf above one of the beds, their visage adorned with bows and curls but the strange distortion carries across the room. They must be for when there are children in the daycare again. Moon does love to give gifts to the little ones.

Then, a quiet sound of a wicker basket touching the floor. You jump before registering the slow blink of pale red eyes before you. At the end of the chaise lounge, Moon begins to creep forward. One hand follows the other, sliding along your legs and up your hips before one grabs onto the top of the backrest and the other reaches for your face. He hovers above you like a vulture in the sky.

The shadow demon brushes his thumb over your lips. The cool caress causes you to shiver but not from the cold.

You stay motionless. He hums a low sound; the beginning of a lullaby. He lays a soft touch of a cool knuckle over your cheek.

“Did you get what I ask?” you murmur, distracted by how he strokes the shell of your ear with soothing motions.

“Yes,” he grumbles. You’re glad he can see much better in the dark than you.

“Thank you.” You grin up at him. “Help me make soup, won’t you?”

You slide out from under his shadow. Back onto your feet, you hook the handle of the basket, now heavy with ingredients. You straighten only to find Moon’s sharp teeth curved into a wicked smile before you. In a split second, he pecks your mouth with a rush of midnight cool air and syrup-sweet darkness. You blink.

“You’re welcome.”

You stop him before his form can melt into the darkness. Snatching his wrist as he attempts to slip between your fingers, you step closer. The shadow demon makes a low sound of surprise. You grin as you press forward on your tippy toes into the darkness to find what you hope is his mouth—it often disappears in his face when he’s not actively showing his teeth. You kiss a smooth, satin-soft cheek.

“There, a proper kiss,” you murmur, falling back onto the fall of your feet.

A low, husky breath disagrees. Shadowy coils slip over your arms and your waist, creeping higher and higher until one hangs around your throat like an onyx necklace. The familiar and comforting weight of his embrace encircles you completely.

“No,” the entire darkness seems to whisper in Moon’s rasp, “Let me show you a proper kiss.”

A dark finger tilts your chin up. You find his eyes as ghostly as red moons hanging above you, bathing you in unholy light. Moon hums softly. He lowers his mouth, teeth sharp but yearning, onto yours.

Cool and gentle, the shadow demon tastes your mouth. He presses to your lips in a silent declaration of fondness so sweet, it stains your tongue. His shadowy tendrils softly tightens around you in a tender crush of affection. A little nibble along your bottom lip teases his dangerous jaws, but you only gasp softly, pleased.

He releases you, unwinding from around you to slip behind your back. You, in a near daze, press towards the door and push it open. A soft hiss at the candlelight aggravates Moon for a moment before he adjusts and slithers into the living space. You catch your breath. Sun stands before the cauldron, feeding it logs but leaving it scorched with marks in the shape of his hands.

“Oh, Moon!” Sun turns around with a sharp clap of his hands. Moon hisses when his golden flames spread their light, eating away at the heavy pools of shadow at Moon’s feet. “You have been held up in that dreary room all day! Some company will do your shadows some good.”

“Ease your light,” Moon growls then slinks to a corner near the dark window overlooking the mountain peak. Pale red eyes glare before Sun inclines his head with a mischievous glint, but draws down his flames to a deep orange simmer over his charcoal body.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Sun asks with a much gentler tone.

“Yes,” Moon mutters but eases, the coils of shadows at his feet twisting with a relaxed aspect. “Are you going to sit with us while we dine?”

“Sit? I’m going to dine with you—I’m afraid I haven’t been given a choice!” Sun drops against your shoulder—a feat that would otherwise push you to the ground if he wasn’t holding himself back while maintaining the illusion of slumping over you. His hand immediately takes your own and squeezes it. “Our darling potion maker insists the only options are to starve or eat soup!”

“How can you eat soup?” Moon asks in a curious rasp. His straw hat swivels slightly to focus on you. Playfully, you roll your eyes and reach out to take a small stack of bowls from the cupboard.

There’s so little difference between cooking and the science of potion making, you’ve found.

“Are these doubts for my craft I hear?” you question.

Two sharp objections follow one loud and crackling, the other low and gravelly, causing you to laugh and break away from what was supposed to be a stern facade.

“Good. I won’t hear any more complaints then.” You pat Sun’s cheek though you weren’t certain what part of him you’d end up touching. He’s still hanging onto you with the clinginess of a burr. You fish within the basket to snatch up a paper-wrapped and chilled pound of beef.

“Sun?” You hold up the meat, “If you don’t mind?”

“It would be my pleasure, darling!” He snatches it up, his flames immediately eating away the paper concealing it. He cradles the meat in his palms. You feel his heat shift, concentrating to a steady and low red crackle in the black coals of his hands.

“Please remember to not burn it.” You turn away to search for a sharp knife in the drawers and withdraw one. Sun’s light sheds much-needed aid over the drawers.

“I would never! Well, maybe a little, to make sure it’s cooked and blackened as it crumbles to ash—”

“Sunny.”

“Yes. Not burnt. As you wish.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The light flares for a moment, brighter and brighter, before calming down for poor Moon’s sake. He hisses once. Sun flashes a cheeky grin.

You smile as you turn around, only to jump slightly when Moon is already standing before you, reaching out to take the knife. His half-silver face, reflecting even sharper in Sun’s light, winks. His pale red eyes stare into your own. You shiver in his presence, caught between a revolving world of hot and cold.

“Potatoes, celery, and carrots, Moon, if you don’t mind,” you ask softly.

“Of course,” he answers in a murmur and takes the basket away to work on the opposite end of the counter. You study the kitchen for a moment, pleased.

Moon and Sun both hum a low song they both seem to know. A lullaby of fey beings, you suppose.

Now, you’re missing someone.

A soft woosh sounds outside, right on time. You jump slightly when a metal clank follows as if you haven’t heard his arrival a hundred times.

“Please continue what you’re doing,” you say while dusting your hands on your apron. You rush for the stairs. “Eclipse and I will help when we return.”

“I hope the buzzard isn’t freezing to death,” Sun exclaims, “It’s a brutal night in the cold.”

“He shouldn’t have left,” Moon mutters in an ominous but concerned tone.

You don’t stop to answer them both as you take two steps at a time. He was gone all day. Your heart has been wrung like wet laundry before being hung out to dry. The fool—the wonderful fool.

The howl of the wind grows as you near the outside of the moving daycare. The top of the stairs leads into a long hallway, doors branching off to yours, Eclipse’s, and Sun’s rooms, but you continue forward until you reach the end. There, you push open two frosty glass doors to see who stands on the balcony but Eclipse himself.

The wizard of the moving daycare. The balcony is dusted in snow and the metal gate separating you and him from a severe drop down the mountain face is dark and wrought. You sweep your gaze over him from head to toe and wingtip to wingtip until you’re satisfied. He’s back in one piece.

His wings are intricate mechanisms of bronze and black iron that click softly as gears whirl within the joints and settle at his back. Deep and dark feathers cover the internal workings of the frame, but sometimes, you can catch a metallic glint when he shifts just slightly. A deep red hat, pointy and rumbled, sits upon his disk-like head with bursts of yellow in the fabric. His expression is carved into two—one bright and sunny, the other lunar and dark. His eyes flash, two-toned with yellow and red, upturn in relief. Tall, even taller than Moon and Sun, he bears a willowy aspect in his white shirt and dark trousers. Robotic arms softly click with his movement.

“Eclipse, you’re back,” you say softly. Your breath mists the cruel wind and fierce cold of the mountaintop. You immediately hug yourself, the thin sleeves of your tunic doing little against the blizzard.

“Hello, dearest. I’m terribly sorry for being away all day.” He opens his arms wide. His wings flutter, clicking and clunking with thick sweeps of dark feathers. The electric glow of his eyes softens. “I missed you.”

You run into his arms. Catching you as if you were falling, Eclipse spins you around once before spreading his wings. His plumage falls over you with a gentle breeze and all at once, the wind howls and the bitter cold dies. It is you and him, again.

“Did you find any children in need?” you ask against his chest. He’s terribly cold but you don’t mind as you rest your cheek on his wind-tugged shirt.

“I did. We should make it to the village in two days.” His fingertips stroke the back of your hair, softly scratching against your scalp in a way that lulls you into forgetting every dangerous and terrible thing that could take your loved ones away.

“That’s wonderful.” You press your smile against the metallic plates of his chest. “I’m so glad you came back safe and sound.”

“As I am. Oh! How’s our family?” he asks.

“Sun has missed playing with the children and Moon has more dolls to give away. They were worried about you. Both are helping me make soup.”

“ Helping ? Oh, I’m afraid to see what they’ve done!”

“All three of you are the same,” you snicker, “believing you can’t help me when that’s what all three of you do!”

“Hm, dearest, I don’t believe you understand.” Eclipse’s feathers ruffle when he leans low to press his forehead against your own—the frigid metal sends a great shiver down your back. His eyes glow as soft as starlight. “You are the one who keeps our heads on our shoulders. Without you, Sun would still be running away from angry villagers, Moon would still be trapped to that scarecrow pole, and I… well, I shouldn’t have to tell you how lost I’d be without you.”

His hand takes your own and gently lays it over his chest. Underneath your palm through the fabric of his shirt, a great thrum of a machine pulsates with timed clicks as quiet as a clock. His bronze and geared heart. You did put it back in his chest.

“Both can be true,” you whisper. You close your eyes. “You and Sun and Moon mean so much to me.”

The alternative is desolate. The vision behind your eyelids is sad and abandoned, a little rundown shack in the middle of dirt and rocks, and you, all alone, believing that’s what you deserved for so long. None of your potions would cure you of this wretched existence. You sunk into the numbness.

Until one day a wizard with wings swept by in his moving daycare, cruel and cursed until you found his bronze heart. Then along his adventures, you discovered a fire demon in need of fuel and comfort from running, and a poor shadow demon cursed to be blistered by the sun in his stationary pose, begging for aid and a kind hand.

You found your family, and you found you deserve their love, too.

“We know.” He draws back slightly. Squeezing your hand tenderly, Eclipse holds your gaze with the softness of a gentle night and the hope of rest. “We might not believe it, but we know.”

Despite the freezing temperatures, your heart melts inside your chest. A deep flush heats your cheeks. You wrap your arm around his waist and duck slightly to hide your face.

“Come in before your joints freeze,” you gently insist. Eclipse allows you to drag him inside before he flicks a metallic finger. The door shuts away the brutal winds and the screaming rush. You, at last, sigh, much more content to linger in the slightly warmer hallway and feel his feathers and arms become less frigid, easing your concern.

“Ah, that is immensely better,” Eclipse hums.

He shifts, allowing his wings to lift and tuck behind his back. The beautiful feathers catch on the bit of firelight cast up the stairs, no doubt from Sun’s determined will to cook the meat without burning it. Distant chops of a knife against wood echo in rhythmic knocks, sounding of Moon tending to the vegetables.

“Next time, wait until after the storm, won’t you?” You fix his shirt so that it doesn’t fall so low down his chest—not that you don’t mind the intricate design of his bronze and steel frame, but you do intend to feed him a civilized meal. “I had worried I would have to send Moon to fetch you then thaw you out in Sun’s fire.”

“I apologize again, my dearest heart.” He bends low to cup your cheeks in his cold hands. You shiver once, eyelids trembling. In gentle regret, he strokes your cheekbones. “You worry too much, but I do adore how much you think of me.”

You glance away, frowning. Of course, you think of him and Moon and Sun too much for your own sanity, but how could you not? They’ve captivated you wholly.

He leans closer, drawing your eyes back to his mournful expression. The brim of his deep red hat almost touches your hair.

“Forgive me?” he breathes.

You slowly reach up to cover his hands, rubbing your thumb over the delicate yet strong design of his metallic wrists. The sleeves of his loose shirt are beginning to warm, too.

“I forgive you, always.” You press under the intimate shade of his wizard hat, and Eclipse stills at your smile. “I missed you, too.”

Before he can answer in relief, you lay your lips upon his face plate, over the grin that mystically shifts about his expression as if he were human and not a machine. A taste of the sweet crispiness of apples and the chilly darkness of twilight slips into your mouth. The large hands that cradle your face softly spasm once. Eclipse then captures you, pulling you deeper against him as the teeth of gears and the tangy metal of his mouth give into your affections entirely. Feathers flap softly, and you are concealed in the eclipse of his wings.

He allows you to break briefly away to breathe—he once took your kiss for so long that you fainted in his arms (for which he never stopped apologizing)—and the living hum in his body harmonizes with the great pulse in your chest.

“There,” you murmur. You look up into the wizard’s gaze and how much he’s softened in your embrace. “Come downstairs and let’s eat.”

Eclipse taps your bottom lip once before straightening. A black feather slips from his back but you catch it beside his shoulder before it can slip to the ground. You carefully tuck it into your apron pocket. His eyes upturn into crescents.

“Lead the way, dearest.”

You take him down and into the warm, bright living space, cast in comfortable shadows. The scent of cooking meat causes your mouth to salivate. Eclipse’s wings relax when he views the sight. Moon and Sun lift their heads from their tasks and greet Eclipse with gladness and relief. Their family member is back safe.

“Did you find any children?” Moon rasps low but his eyes wink with piqued interest.

“Yes, several. They’ll need our help once the daycare arrives in a village in two day’s time,” Eclipse nods.

Moon and Sun exchange wide looks of excitement. The shadows below the dark demon stir and flicker. In contrast, the fire demon’s body burns brighter.

“Eclipse, won’t you gather my tiger’s chaudron jar?” you ask with a soft squeeze of your hand around his, “Be very careful. It’s temperament and might fizz and overflow if it's upset.”

“He’s helping with the food?” Sun mocks a great gasp of incredulousness. “I was under the impression you wanted to eat tonight!”

“Oh, stop it, you,” you chastise before leaning over the table to press a kiss to his hot cheek. Straightening, you release Eclipse’s hand to stand close behind Moon and slide your hand over his arm to gather a few chunks of potato he’s cut for you. “Thank you, dollface. Here, let me take these to the cauldron.”

“I will do my best,” Eclipse promises in amusement before flitting back upstairs with a soft breeze under his wings.

“Oh, he’s far too cold. I can feel how much heat he’s lacking,” Sun chitters in that rapid-fire concern of his. You silently direct him to add the meat to the cauldron.

“You’ll sit beside him while we eat, won’t you?” you plead softly. Nabbing a wooden spoon, you begin to stir the contents. Sun wraps an arm around your waist and presses his blissful warmth against your side.

“If he won’t mention anything about me setting his wings on fire—which was once, mind you!”

Moon snickers. You press a hand over your mouth to stop a chuckle.

“Yes, I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” you nod. “Moon, can you bring the rest of the vegetables?”

He slips behind you silently. When you turn your head to find him, you jump slightly at how little distance is between you and his dark form. Smiling wide, he reaches a hand over your shoulder and plops the remaining carrots and celery in.

“Oh. Thank you.” You quickly catch his chin and plant a kiss against his cool, smoky jawline. Moon becomes still as night. His eyes gleam with quiet delight before he slips his hand under your elbow and begins softly caressing his long, inky fingers along the sensitive underside of your arm while you stir.

A gentle ruffle of feathers glides in behind you. Before you can turn your hand and break away from the two demons, metallic arms slide over your shoulders and gingerly uncap one of your potion jars. A green clump of flowers falls into the cauldron. The concoction briefly throws small emerald flames about the surface—the key ingredient to allow Sun to consume it, as well as providing a slight spice to the dish. It will feed you all.

Eclipse’s hand withdraws only for a moment before reappearing to gently slide underneath your jaw and trace the bone tenderly. The familiar presence of the wizard with his chin resting on the crown of your head warms you, and you sigh softly.

Surrounded by fey beings and their great powers, they attach to your presence as if you were a great sorcerer and not a humble potion maker. Their hands warm and cool you. Their bodies softly press against your ribs and spine. They don’t mind sharing.

You have your family, and they have you.

You take out the spoon with one satisfied tap against the rim of the cauldron.

“Soup’s ready, my sweethearts.”

#DCASS23 #darthsuki #eclipse x reader #moon x reader #sun x reader #eclipse's moving daycare #Merry Christmas from an automaton angel #a scarecrow demon #and a fiery pyromaniac!#ao3 link

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amphiptere-art · 10 months ago

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Would anyone's fey attempt to tame fey Blue Moon? Basically get them to a point where they were either calm around them. Or would approach them for snacks.

#fey rbb #fey Blue Moon #sams #tsams #tsams au #sams au #red blue and black

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hanakoofthejungle · 6 months ago

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Another Overlord Husk AU fanart, this time based on Chapter 18 of the fanfiction titled House of Cards by Transparent_Existence.

Speedpaint:

youtube

“Angel,” Husk murmured his name as if it were the only thing that mattered. He was here. He was alive. A tense smile spread across Husk’s face as he reached forward, pressing a paw against Angel’s cheek. It was real. Thank holy fuck this was real. Ignoring his injuries, Husk pulled angel against himself, holding onto him tightly for fear of losing him again. “I love you.” He whispered, kissing Angel’s forehead. The words had come unbidden, but he refused to risk never getting to say them. '

The scene takes place in a ruined club basked in transcendent blue and pink neon lights following Husk's battle with Val and Val's demise by Angel's hand.

The scene reminds me of the song 你是我永远的乡愁 (You are my eternal longing) covered in Chinese by Fei Yu-Ching.

youtube

The original song is a Japanese one by ASKA, but I find the Chinese version much more poetic and endearing. Sound much like what Husk wanted to say to Angel in the Chapter, isn't it?! :

How long can considered eternal (till the heaven becomes barren and the earth turns ancient)

I have dreamt forever and loved endlessly

But the mortal world cannot last that long

How passionate must it be to be considered as not wasting my youth

Come to think of it, that is all for you

You, tonight, is my enteral longing

The moon continues shining, your beauty remains unchanged

Only because of you that I have this eternal longing

Time endures and so does my longing

Only because of you that I don't mind the burning inside my chest

Continue to embrace this longing

My tools still include pencil and Leningrad watercolor, but this time I also used Kuretake Gansai Tambi watercolor (Pink No.34 and Blue No. 63) for the neon light effect.

#huskerdust #hazbin hotel #angel dust #overlord husk #hazbin hotel husker #husk hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust x husk #Youtube #vivziepop

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soleilceirinen · 11 months ago

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When the darkness comes | Tommy Shelby x Shadowhunter!Reader - Part 2

Summary: you are a shadowhunter investigating the sudden rise of yin fen in the Downworld, the trail leads you to Small Heath and a blue eyed gangster.

A/N: English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes!

Part 1 - PEAKY BLINDERS MASTERLIST

Since your first encounter with Thomas Shelby, you had been following him everywhere, day and night. A week had passed and you could tell that the man was getting more and more paranoid each day, clearly aware that he was being followed. He even commented on it to some of his peers but they simply told him to relax.

From what you had been able to observe, it was clear to you that Thomas was not a vampire. You had seen him walking in broad sunlight and drinking alcohol although you had not caught him eating something solid yet. Also, you were almost sure that he wasn’t one of the fey despite being pretty enough to be one of them.

He didn’t seem to be a werewolf either, because many times you were able to see the shine of his silver cigarette box in his hand. Besides, at that precise moment you were watching him under the light of the full moon and he wasn’t showing any sign of changing.

At this point you still needed to find out if he was a warlock, a demon or just a mundane with the Sight. Despite Greater Demons often taking the form of handsome men wearing suits, which you did find quite funny, you were almost sure that it wasn’t the case here. So, warlock or mundane it was, but in order to figure it out you needed to see him completely naked.

Warlocks were the offspring of a mundane woman and a demon, and they always had a mark that indicated their true nature such a weird skin or eye colour, horns, claws, a tail, scales… but you couldn’t see any with him wearing so many layers of clothing. If he had a mark, it was well hidden.

You were in a narrow alley near the Garrison, so distracted thinking about how you were going to make him undress that you didn't notice the moment he disappeared from your sight. You returned to reality after noticing a presence behind you. Slowly, you turned around until you were facing Thomas Shelby, who was pointing his gun at your face.

"You're following me," he said through clenched teeth. It wasn't a question, he already knew the answer.

You looked at the way he gripped the handle of the gun, his knuckles white from the pressure, and shrugged slightly.

“Well, that’s true. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. In fact,” you said, raising an eyebrow, “if I hadn’t gotten distracted thinking about… uh, something, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now”, you finished with a small smile.

He stared at you impassively with his serious face, like a cold mask. “Are you Russian?”, he questioned. You looked from his face to the barrel of his gun and back to his face. He seemed exasperated at your lack of response. “Italian? Why are you following me?”

“I was born and raised in Idris but now I live in London. I want to know more about yourself, Mr. Shelby, that’s all. Could you stop pointing your gun at me? I don’t think those are good manners”, you stated simply.

Thomas let out a hiss but never put the gun away. He seemed like a trapped animal and you didn’t doubt that he would shoot you if he wanted. With a sight, you slowly raised your hands showing him your palms in an attempt to let him know that you weren’t going to hurt him.

“I would like to talk to you, Mr. Shelby”, you said softly. “I know you’ve been sending yin fen to America, but do you even know what you are selling?”

His lips parted as if he were going to say something, you could almost imagine the hinges inside his head turning over and over again. And behind all that, a confused expression.

“What do you know about magic Mr. Shelby?” you continued without taking your eyes away from his blue ones.

“My aunt can talk to the dead and I could tell your fortune and charm dogs,” he said bitterly. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or messing with you.

Tilting your head to the side, you dedicated him another smile, this time wider. “Oh, I see. If I were you, I would speak a little quietly because they are going to think that you have lost your mind, talking alone in the middle of an alley and pointing your gun to the void.”

“What?”

A pair of footsteps were approaching, they were probably heading in the direction of the Garrison but at some point they would pass by the entrance to the alley and they would see you. Well, not you. Those who approached were talking in low voices, a man and a woman as far as you could tell. Her heels clicked melodically against the wet cobblestones.

When Thomas turned his head in their direction, you took your chance and jumped away from him with a series of fluid movements thanks to years of training. From the top of a roof a couple of buildings away, you watched the scene.

The woman asked Thomas what he was doing there. He was still holding the gun with his arm outstretched, pointing at nothing. When he realised that you had disappeared, he lowered the gun and rubbed his hand over his face in a dejected gesture.

“Don’t pay attention to him Ada”, said the man, who now you identified as Arthur. “Lately our Tommy has been acting like this, trying to convince us that he’s been followed. I bet he was talking to the ghost before we arrived, am I right Tommy boy?”

Arthur laughed but Ada seemed to be worried. She took a few steps and grabbed Thomas by the arm, pulling him out of the alley. “Have you been taking opium, Tom? Are you seeing things again?”

Thomas shook his head. After taking one last look at the alley, he let his siblings drag him to the Garrison.

#thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #shadowhunter!reader #the shadowhunter chronicles #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #shadowhunters and peaky blinders

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feyhunter78 · 1 year ago

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Fey's 2000 Follower Celebration!!!!

Description: It's Gabi's first day of first grade, and it gets Miguel thinking about when he first arrived in this universe. Pink Pastels Masterlist

“Papá, come on we’re going to be late.” Gabi pouts, tugging on the sleeve of his lab coat, her bright pink backpack sitting snuggly on her shoulders, her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail with a blue hair tie.

“I just want to make sure you have everything Mija.” Miguel says, going over his mental checklist. Lunch? Check. Pencil bag? Check. Name tag on her shirt with her name and classroom number? Check. Colorful tag shaped like a car that indicates she’s drop off and pick up only? Attached securely to her backpack. He knows she has everything; he packed her bag the night before, but he can’t stop himself from worrying.

“Come on, I want to get to school, I want to meet my new friends!” Gabi tugs harder, heading towards the door.

He chuckles. She’s so unlike him in this aspect, she isn’t afraid to put herself out there or go up to kids she doesn’t know and try to make friends. She relishes the challenge, and he almost envies her confidence.

“Okay, okay, we’ll go.” He says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

She smiles up at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door.

He lets he chose the music on the drive there, sings along softly to the Spanish songs she’s chosen, glancing up at the rearview mirror every so often to look at her.

Gabi is staring out the window, memorizing the route—just in case I make new friends, and we want to walk to school together—she told him in a very matter of fact tone.

He can’t imagine ever letting her walk to school. Of course, the streets are safe, he’s made sure of that, and she’d be walking with other kids, and most likely a parent, but his stomach churns at the idea of anything ever happening to her.

“Gabi?” Miguel asks, struck by a sudden need to confirm that she knows just how loved she is.

“Yeah?” Gabi replies, looking away from the window and towards him.

“You know I love you, right?” He asks, a smile tugging at his lips when he sees her smile.

“Yep, more than the sun loves the sky.” She says cheerily, easily, without a single moment of hesitation.

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep the tears from welling in his eyes. He spent so long searching for her, so long trying his best to be a father worthy of her. To never doubt that he loves her, to never wonder and fear as he did growing up.

“And guess what, Papá?” She says in a singsong voice.

“What?”

“I love you more than the moon loves the sea.” She says, beaming at him, her tone filled with that pure honesty that you can only find in children.

And here comes the waterworks.

Miguel manages to stop himself from crying by the time they pull into her school’s parking lot, and Gabi is already unbuckling her seatbelt.

“We’re here! We’re here!” She’s jiggling the door handle, which he would usually ask her not to do, but she’s so excited he can’t bring himself to correct her.

He turns off the car and slides out, opening the door for her and helping her out.

Gabi hits the ground running, already seeing her friends from kindergarten. She bolts forward, the sound of his name being called by another parent taking his attention away for a split second.

It all happens so fast, he looks away then hears the sound of brakes squealing, and someone shouting. His heart races, all his senses going into overdrive. Gabi is wrapped in the arms of a woman in a pink dress, Gabi’s cries filling his ears.

Miguel is there by her side in a second, pulling her from the woman. “What happened?”

“I didn’t see the car, I forgot to look, Papá I’m sorry.” She clings to him, burying her face in his lab coat.

“My goodness, I’m so glad I grabbed her in time.” The woman says, one hand pressed to her heart.

Miguel looks up, for a moment. She’s shorter than him, most people are, with a lovely figure wrapped in soft-looking fabric, her hair styled in a way that frames her face but still keeps it from getting in her eyes.

“Thank you, Ms?” He realizes he doesn’t know her name, he meant to go to Meet the Teacher Night, but he was called away.

“Y/N, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N, I’m Gabi’s teacher.” You say, giving him a bright smile.

“Ms. Y/N, thank you, I’m glad Gabi has a teacher with quick reflexes.”

“Oh yeah, I’m like a cat.” You joke.

He smiles, and he feels Gabi giggle against his coat.

“Like a cat, that’s silly.” She says, pulling herself away from him to face you.

“Oh really? Well, I have a lot more silly sayings ready for the school year if you’d like to hear them?” You tell her, bending slightly at your knees to look her in the eyes.

“Yes, please.” Gabi says, sniffling.

“Okay, but have to hold my hand, and no more running in the street.” You warn playfully, holding your hand out to her.

“Okay!” Gabi says, grabbing your hand, her fear vanishing as she wipes away her tears, her smile back in full force.

But Miguel can’t brush off his fear that easily, and his fingers catch on Gabi’s backpack.

She turns to look at him. “Oh, Papá, I almost forgot.” She lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Bye, I’ll see you later!”

He crushes her to his chest, burying his face in her hair. “Bye Mija, be good.”

She wriggles out of his grasp and grabs your hand again, before waving goodbye and letting you lead her inside the school.

Miguel remains on his knees for a second, watching as you both disappear inside the building, before he stands and brushes himself off, heading towards his car.

He drives to Alchemax in silence, pulls into the parking lot in silence, and walks to his office in silence. He sits at his desk, boots up his computer, and tries to force himself to concentrate. His desk saver is a picture of him and Gabi on her fourth birthday. She’s got icing all over her face and hands, and she’s reaching for him, one tiny hand covered in frosting finding its mark on his cheek. He’s smiling, she’s laughing, and he remembers how when that picture was taken, he was so afraid everything would disappear, and he’d be left with only photos, and videos once again.

“Hey Miggy, just wanted to check on you.” Monica’s voice floats through the crack in the door she’s made by opening it without knocking, a terrible habit she has, but he finds it less annoying on days like this.

He gives her a weary smile. “It’s easier than last time, but still hard.”

She gives him a sympathetic grimace. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

He thanks her, and she closes his office door, her heels clicking on the tile of the hallway as she walks away.

Miguel smiles as the screen changes to a picture he took. Gabi is three, curled in his lap, head resting on his arm, Oso tucked underneath her arm.

He remembers the adrenaline that rushed through him when he got the alert. How he activated the program that transferred all commands to Jessica and Peter, and left them with a quick goodbye.

This universe’s Miguel was dead, Gabi would be placed in his mother’s care, unless Monica fought hard enough for custody, which he now had no doubt she would’ve done, no matter how chill she tried to portray herself as.

It was the perfect opportunity; one he would not waste. So, he left, took Lyla and his meager possessions, studied all he could about the old Miguel and became him—to an extent.

It was dark in his apartment, quiet, Gabi was asleep, Margo from next door asleep on the couch, some random telenovela playing at a low volume.

Miguel switched it off as he turned on one of the lamps, gently shaking her awake.

She jolted awake then relaxed, giving him a sleepy smile as she patted him on the shoulder and made her way down the hall.

He stood in Gabi’s doorway, almost afraid to go in. Would she recognize him, would she reject him? Somehow be able to tell he was not the father she knew, or would she love him as much as he loved her? They were blood, she was his daughter, and he was her father no matter what universes or canon events separated them.

Miguel gathered up his courage and stepped inside. Her room was different, a forest green instead of pink, with white accents, and glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. She’s still in a crib, she’s three now, soon he’ll need to transition her to a toddler bed, but when he leans against the railing, gazing down at her, he finds he wishes she would stay this little forever.

Her eyes slowly open, and she smiles at him, ever observant his daughter is.

“Hola Mija, lo siento, ¿te desperté?” He whispered, reaching into her crib and gently brushing her cheek with one bent finger. Trsl: Hello daughter, I’m sorry, did I wake you/wake you up?

She grabs it, then grabs more of his hand with surprising strength, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

That’s new.

“Papá’s back.” She said sleepily, cuddling Oso closer.

“Yes, I’m back.” He said softly. “And I’m never leaving you again.”

“Can I sleep with you?” She asked, letting go of his hand to reach out to him, silently asking to be picked up.

“Of course, Mija,” Miguel said, scooping her up and supporting her back with his hand.

“Yay, night Papá.” Gabi whispered, already falling back asleep.

He didn’t sleep that night, just stayed up watching her, marveling over the fact that he got another chance to be with his daughter. He wouldn’t mess it up this time, no matter what happened, he would not lose her.

Gabi is having a great first day at school. She got to pick the music on the way to school, survived running in the street, and her teacher is the nicest person ever.

Ms. Y/N is so beautiful, like a princess, Gabi thinks, and you answer everyone’s questions about yourself, even the silly ones like who your favorite Wild Kratt is and if you have a boyfriend.

She notices that you look a little sad when you answer that one, and it piques her interest. Gabi likes to think of herself as an amateur detective, her and Oso have solved many cases already. Like the case of the missing sock—the dryer ate it, or the case of the monster in the couch—her papa snores when he falls asleep watching TV.

She is also an expert in emotions and drama, Tia Margo says so herself when Gabi figures out the plot to their favorite shows before she does.

So once the school day is almost over, and you come around to her desk to collect her first day worksheet—really, it’s a few questions about her and some really fun things to color, not work at all, which she likes—she asks why you looked sad.

“Sad? Did I look sad? Oh, don't worry, I’m not.” You reassure her, taking her worksheet and adding it to the pile in your arms.

“My papá is single, if your boyfriend makes you sad again, you can marry him instead.” She says confidently, packing up her colored pencils and pens.

“Oh—that’s very nice of you to offer, sweetheart, but I think I’ll stick with my boyfriend.” You tell her, seeming a little bit embarrassed.

She likes when you call her sweetheart, and when you smile at her, and tell her how pretty her drawings are. She wishes you were her mom, not just her teacher.

“Okay…but if you change your mind! Let me know first because Ryan’s mom is single too, and I don’t want her to try and take my papá from you.”

You laugh at that and shake your head affectionately. “You have quite the mind, don’t you?”

“My papa says I’m very smart.” She says proudly.

“And he’s right.” You squeeze her shoulder then move onto her tablemates.

Maybe she’ll ask Lyla to help her come up with a way to get your boyfriend out of the picture? There are plenty of ways, she’s seen them on the telenovelas, but she doesn’t actually know how to find someone’s evil twin. She’ll definitely have to ask Lyla about that.

Gabi isn’t worried, though, the year has just started and there’s plenty of time for you and her papá to fall in love.

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars, @sxnasbitch, @111gltzpzy, @lucilavenxoxo, @ray-rook, @elizamelody, @soapbar99, @trashieboii, @erissco, @gardenof-venus, @vlads-dracula3

TL 2: @yaoisenpaiii, @the-occasional-artist1125, @polireader, @mvchmp, @shadowxfheaven, @hxlytrin, @melomichuwu, @weirdothatwritess, @ash-aragami, @deguzu, @angelarcheangel, @nekotaetae, @milohatesspit, @lollipop974, @miggyyyyohara, @itzsab, @namjooningera, @hana-1235, @amberpanda99, @joceymoo, @tfamidoingwithmylife, @itsashree, @battinsonwhore05, @namjooningera, @tortilla-chips-and-allioli, @fluffy-koalala, @fandom-ash, @angelarcheangel, @yuuotosaka3, @latersgaters-steven, @ariparri, @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast, @lycaninelizard, @angelarcheangel, @yuuotosaka3, @allysunny, @lollipopin, @allysunny, @loves0phelia, @caslistener

#meg's writing #I just want to say thank you to all of y'all who have been with me from the beginning and all my newbies #I'm so grateful y'all give me such a supportive and loving place for all my ideas #miguel’s pastels #miguel o'hara x reader #I'm actually at 2014 but I needed time to write this XD #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

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imperator-titus · 2 months ago

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What have I been doing instead of writing or classwork? Modding BG3 and making my OCs, of course!

I posted pics before when I only had the vanilla game assets available.

First is the story's interpretation of what Astarion looked like before turning. Yes, I accept other interpretations of what he looked like, such as different eye colors or even his hair color. This is not what I believe to be the most-likely scenario for canon pre-vampirism Astarion.

(If you don't care about my story's OCs, then don't bother with the read more break. It is there as a courtesy to those who just want Astarion as well as to avoid how loooong this post will be.)

Mods used: Toarie's New Character Creation Presets (Andrei head, which I'm fairly certain is a tweaked Astarion with no bite marks, clearer skin, etc), Vessnelle's Hair Collection (M3, it's still not what I wanted but it was the best I could find, his hair should be more like ringlets and in a higher ponytail and no/different bangs) Other settings: Pallid Tone 1 Skin, Elf Gold 2 Eyes, White 3 + 75% Greying (Grey Neutral 2)

Eletha Nightstar/Lorelai Irithyl

Mods used: ASTRL Hair Color Supplement (Eletha has some more greying/highlighting involved) Changes for Lorelai: Toned down the make-up that was making Eletha look "tired", two blue eyes, No scars, No piercings, Less aging, Hair is vanilla "Sorcha Curls" Notes: I ended up not changing Eletha pretty much at all, all I would change is making her lips thinner Character Notes:

Class: Ranger (Subclass: Hunter)

Born: 1224 (268yo as of BG3), Dalelands

Race: High Elf (Moon elf)

Sex/Gender: Female/Cis

Orientation: Bisexual/Demisexual

Approx. 5 years older than Astarion

Last saw Astarion 1259 (233 years ago from BG3)

Fey's curse: Burns in a white flame every new moon

Highly skilled with Eladrin longsword, high pain tolerance, bitter old lemon of an adventurer

Folk Hero: not as famous as the Blade of Frontiers, but has probably done more and has a little following of adventurers, despite her best efforts to dissuade them

Left her family in 1260 after being forced to give birth

Magic Left (Gold) Eye: allows the wearer to see things as they were in memories

Quynn Irithyl

Mods: Toarie's New Character Creation Presets (Falorin head), Trips' Accessory Collection + Jerinski's Piercing Edits, Cerberry's Simple Hair (Hero) (Current Hair), Tav's Hair Salon (163) (Old Hair), ASTRL Hair Color Supplement

Pronounced "kwin"

Last name: Eletha's original last name

Born: 1260 (232 yo), Dalelands

Race: High Elf (Moon Elf)

Class: Ranger (In-game: Gloomstalker, 5e Monster Slayer)

Mellia (Melliana)

Mods: ASTRL Hair Color Supplement, Trips' Accessory Collection + Jerinski's Piercing Edits, Vessnelle's Hair Collection (F18), Frosty Faces (Allani Head)

Race: High Elf (Vampire)

Age: Unknown (Eletha thinks she's over 1000)

Sex/Gender: Female/Gender-fluid, but mostly Hyper-Femme

Orientation: Homosexual (Lesbian), but is known to hit on anything

Class: Sorcerer (In-game: Storm, 5e Shadow Magic, from being a Vampire)

Eletha's oldest friend (met 1268, 224 years ago) "Your Sanguine Companion"

Aluin of Suzail

Mods: ASTRL Hair Color Supplement, Kay's Hair Extensions, Frosty Faces (Divine Head)

Pronounced: All-win ("Win" or "Winnie" for short)

Race: Human

Class: Wizard (Transmutation)

Age: 232 (Met 1283, 209 years ago)

Sex/Gender: Male/Cis

Orientation: Asexual/Panromantic

Loves sweets and has a bad back

Bromthrum Starkhammer

Mods: Andmetta's Bulky Dwarf Heads (Thrain), Trips' Accessory Collection + Jerinski's Piercing Edits, Bububull's Big Dwarven Beards

"Provider of Fine Crafts" (Merchant)

Race: Dwarf (Gold Dwarf)

Class: Fighter (Champion)

Age: 120-ish (met 100 years ago)

Obsessed with Elves and Elven artifacts

Collects Elven longswords to show to Eletha

Tyrlumin

Mods: Trips' Accessory Collection + Jerinski's Piercing Edits, HGY Heads (Xan Head), Bububull's More Dreadlocs Vol 2 (Disowned Warlock)

"Lumin" (loo-min) for short, "Your Melodic Cha" (Cha = "Half")

Race: Half-drow/Half-human, seemingly

Age: Unknown (Eletha thinks he's a fey or lich or something)

Sex/Gender: Seemingly Male/Has claimed to be anything and nothing

Orientation: Asexual/Aromantic

Class: Bard (In-Game: College of Lore, 5e: College of Glamour)

Specialty: Harp, but commonly plays the lute

Very Gandalf, arrives exactly when he intends to

Heilar Moonstone

Mods: Ghoul's Customization Compendium (Shaved Head)

Race: High Elf (Moon Elf), Dalelands

Class: Fighter (Battlemaster), Longsword Master

Sex/Gender: FTM Trans

Orientation: Homosexual/Aromantic

Taught Eletha, Astarion, and Quynn

Eletha's pseudo-father-figure

Praises Eletha as his best student

Maephina Greensong

Mods: HGY Heads (Uche Head), Trips Accessories + Jerenski_Piercing-Edits_Trips, ASTRL Hair Color Supplement, Bububull’s More Dreadlocs

Race: Halfling (Lightfoot)

Sex/Gender: Female/Cis

Class: Merchant (not a fighter, except when she has to be)

Travels with Ravan the Loyal

Ravan the Loyal

Race: Orc

Class: Barbarian (Berserker)

Missing half his brain, undergoing a personality change

Incredibly loyal to his friends- just who that is can be unclear sometimes

Loves giving his friends shoulder rubs and picking them up like cats/babies

Zespira Hartford

Mods: Trips Accessories + Jerenski_Piercing-Edits_Trips, Bububull’s More Dreadlocs (twin hills)

Race: Zariel Tiefling

Class: Paladin (Oath of Devotion)

Deity: Tyr

Young and full of life, a natural do-gooder like Wyll

Fairly new to Eletha's list of adventuring followers, she was rescued when she bitt off a little more than she could chew with an evil necromancer

Travels with Gin, Nei-Fonn, and Venxiatel. They met through Eletha

Nei-Fonn Shiaong

Mods: Trips Accessories + Jerenski_Piercing-Edits_Trips, ASTRL Hair Color Supplement, Tav’s Hairpack (84)

Race: Human

Sex/Gender: Female/Cis

Class: Rogue (In-Game: Thief, 5e: Inquisitive)

Highly intelligent

Sister to Gin

Used to work with a traveling circus with her brother, met Eletha when she tried to pick her pocket (Eletha: Unlucky for you, I have a lot of experience with pretty faces attached to sticky fingers.)