#pallid elves

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Okay this is a very niche topic but going over what little I know about troglomorphism (i.e. animals adapting to a subterranean enivornment), I was kinda disappointed by the changes to pallid elves stopping at loss of pigment and black eyes. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but I do like using real-life biology to spice up speculative biology, so here are some ideas on how to make pallid elves weirder:

- semitranslucent skin - elongated limbs/digits (probably slight due to relatively short time frame) - elongated bodies (also probably slight) - eye problems are a common feature of albinism in humans, so they probably apply here too. Don’t know how that interacts with solid-black eyes though. - slow metabolism (food is harder to find underground, so sleep more, move less, and you can eat less) - reduced need for oxygen (also feeds into slow metabolism) - bigger ears/possibly echolocation (some humans can do it, albeit very crudely compared to bats and whales) - sunburns. There is nothing protecting you from UV so you are taking damage every minute in the sun - circadian rhythm probably doesn’t align to diurnal/nocturnal stimuli even when those stimuli are introduced.

[galaxyghost4081]

The Story of the Selyutuna

In the beginning, when the world was newly born, the mystical elves were one of the many races that lived within it. They were created by the wondrous Arch Heart and resided in the whimsical lands of the Feywild. However, the Moonweaver, a well-known mischief-maker among the deities, blessed some of the Arch Heart’s elves with her own divine magic. Thus, the first pallid elves were born. Inheriting their curiosity from the goddess, some pallid elves migrated from their homes in the Feywild to explore the Material Plane. Among them, the Moonweaver is best known for shielding mortals from the dangers of the dark with her magic over the night, but to the Selyutuna family, she is revered as much more. According to legend, the family would not exist today were it not for her role in connecting its very first members: Sely and Utuna.

Like many other pallid elves, Sely and Utuna wandered into the Material Plane long ago. The two of them experienced many of the world's wonders together - the land, the sea, the sky, and the primordial magic hidden within - but none of it satisfied the ever so inquisitive Utuna. She often wondered about the mysteries of the night sky up above - and what secrets the Moonweaver kept hidden within her domain. The world was still new, yes, but the other gods and goddesses had already created their fair share. The Wildmother brought forth thriving flora and fauna, the Dawnfather brought forth the light of the morning and midday sun, but what did the Moonweaver bring? Surely more than her pallid elves and a twilit dusk shifting into her realm of desolate dark.

Spurred by her curiosity, Utuna casted elven magics of both the Arch Heart and the Moonweaver and soared straight into the pitch-black sky. She left her beloved Sely as he rested on the earth below and flew higher than the clouds that the airborne aarakocra glided through. With each passing moment, the ground became further and further away, and soon enough, Utuna could only see the murky darkness around her. Even her sharp elven eyes, enhanced with arcane magic, could not pierce through the gloom. 

However, Utuna was adamant and refused to return to the earth below empty-handed. She continued toward the heavens, not knowing that her magic was growing weaker and weaker as she journeyed onward, and it eventually fizzled out. She was left floating high within the night sky, resorting to swimming through the shadows in a futile attempt to find her way. Unbeknownst to her, the Moonweaver’s mysterious domain was restricted to the goddess for a reason. Lost and weakened from her voyage, dark tendrils of night suddenly struck at Utuna, restraining her in place as their corruption pierced through her veins. As the pain worsened, the only thing she could do was cry out for help, not knowing if she would be heard to any of her mortal kin down below.

Much to her fortune, her cries were not in vain. Despite being trapped higher than the clouds, the sound of a pained Utuna had woken Sely up from his trance. He looked to the sky in the direction of his lover’s voice, but the shadows obscured any hint of his beloved save for her sound. As she gradually failed to endure more and more agony, he called to the Moonweaver for help as a last resort, knowing that the night was her very abode. The goddess heard Sely’s plea and streaked across the dark heavens like a comet, sparkling silver trailing behind her. Divine strands weaved around Utuna to protect her and shone with a dazzling radiance, dispersing her shadowy restraints before fading away in the night sky. Sely was overjoyed that Utuna's pained cries were no more, but where was Utuna herself? Surely the Moonweaver would have been able to return her to her mortal home with him. He asked this question to the Moonweaver, who answered it with an innocent sorrow in her voice.

"Although I have saved Utuna from her demise, the dangers of the night have tainted her soul far beyond my restoration. Her magic, mingled with the dark, barely lost against my divine abilities. I have weaved a sanctuary around Utuna to protect her from further harm, but I am afraid that she must remain among the shadows due to her unruly curse. But fear not, dear Sely. I can see her where you cannot, and I will keep her safe from any other night time dangers and threats. I promise."

Sely believed in her words, knowing that the Moonweaver would withhold her promise in her own playful ways, but the sound of his heart aching rang in his ears. He yearned for his beloved Utuna, but she would be up in the heavens with their goddess. For the rest of his life, no matter how long it would last, it would have to be lived without his love by his side. Nevertheless, Sely took faith in the Moonweaver’s words, trusting her with the one person he loved the most, and respectfully - albeit sadly - accepted them. Ever since then, Sely's life was filled with an immense longing. By day, he continued to live through earthly experiences without his beloved by his side. By night, he prayed to the Moonweaver for Utuna's safety, often speaking to the shadows in hopes that she would be able to hear him. Eventually, his mortal life had reached its end, and Sely perished under the shade of a particularly dark night.

The Moonweaver had listened to Sely’s wishes all the while and knew of his pure adoration to Utuna. Although his body was still, his soul lived on, and the goddess guided him toward the heavens above. She imbued him with sparkling slivers of her divine magic, protecting him from the dangers of the night as they journeyed deep within her domain. Soon enough, they arrived at Utuna's sanctuary in the sky, hidden with dark, illusory magic, and Sely was finally able to see his love once again. The Moonweaver had kept her promise all along. He wrapped his arms around his beloved in a passionate embrace. Elated to be with her, the love in his heart erupted in a wondrous, gleaming aura, for it was enhanced by the godly magic weaved into his soul, and illuminated Utuna's sanctuary in the night sky. The brightness weakened the darkness looming around it and beamed toward the earth below, offering the soft comforts of moonlight to Sely and Utuna's mortal kin.

From that point on, the families of the two lovers have honored the pallid elves by living together as the Selyutuna family, which is now known as an Elvish surname translating to Moondream in Common. Without the solace of his beloved, Sely dreamed of her well-being above all else, and it was his love for Utuna caused the Moonweaver's protection to become the moon itself. As the moon waxes and wanes, it is said that the two lovers are dancing happily together throughout the night. To this day, much of the Selyutuna family are devout believers and followers of the Moonweaver. They believe that the goddess leads them toward their soulmates, shields them with moonlit blessings throughout their mortal lives, and guides their souls to the heavens to turn into long-lived stars that twinkle alongside their ancestors. The story of Sely and Utuna is deeply rooted in Selyutuna history, for it depicts the tale of an everlasting love that shines through even the darkest of nights.

[somelazyassartist]

Finally updating my Elf (and Elf-Adjacent) Ear Headcanons to fit my newer art style and also adding some ones that weren't included in my old charts :] this is just appearance-wise, I have a lot of other thoughts about Elf speculative biology :]

[vindikat]

Last but not least is Tegwen, pallid elf Cleric of Sehanine. He specifically said he would wear a mask whether or not it was a masquerade party, which is pretty much classic Tegwen.

[l-wannabe-dungeon-master-l]

My DND Characters pt. 1

Name: Bast Seren

Race: Pallid Elf

Background: Folk Hero

Class: Twilight Domain Cleric/ Circle of Stars Druid

Bast wandered into the forest one day as a child and was never found by his parents. He did get found by the goddess of the moon, Selûne. Since that day his purpose, as ordained by his goddess, has been to guide and protect any who find themselves lost in his forest. He started his adventure with his companions because his goddess sent him a sign.

I've played only one session with him but he's already so much fun.

[the-world-of-errakor]

People of Errakor - Elves

Aight so if you can't already tell this is going to be a longer one cause there are almost too many kinds of Elves to count. This post will mainly cover how they came to the plane originally and how some of them evolved. So if you like Elves and lore dumps have fun!

Originating from the Feywild initially, the Elves of Errakor were initally created by The Arch Heart and for many years the civilization stayed their solely in the realm of the Fey, before over time moving to other planes. In search of the wonders of the Material Plane’s wilds, the first tribe of elves decided to make their way to the world of Errakor, these Elves would become the first Wood, Sea, Frost and Desert Elves. Not long after many other Elves made their way to Errakor, creating many of the lineages of Elves we know to this day, those who wished to study and advanced their knowledge under the celestial bodies of Errakor’s sky became the High Elves (Sun and Moon), those who felt the call to worship The Moonweaver ventured to Errakor to share her wonder and became the Pallid Elves.

One group that unwillingly left the feywild were the original Drow, as they were cast out of the Fey Realm by Corrleon below the surface of Errakor for their support of The Spider Queen in her attempted murder of him where they began to cultivate communities in The Underdark.

Unlike many others that left the Fey Realm, the Elves now known as The Shadar-kai, did not venture to Errakor but its other Reflection, The Shadowfell, in order to best serve the God they followed The Matron of Ravens.

The last group of Elves are The Eladrin, whilst a large portion of The Eladrin stay within the Fey Realm, there are sizable populations of them found on the Material Plane. Within the Fey Realm, hundred of years ago there was city of Eladrin known as Ilhenor. During the Sundering The planar divides weakened and Ilhenor was dragged to The Material Plane. However this act of power sundered the city into four different spires, each eternally locked into a seasonal phase. These spires are now bastions of elven society and have been for over eight hundred years, hosting multiple different kinds of elves rather than just Eladrin, though any Eladrin at a spire is locked into the associated seasonal form when there.

[vaguely-humanoid-form]

this is my DND character Junebug in like. modern clothing I love them so much she's everything to me.

[ampleappleamble]

hey so like... is galawain an orlan?

some (or all?) of the gods seem to have "set" species they present themselves as. like berath is explicitly referred to in game as an elf in her pallid knight aspect and a dwarf in his usher aspect. woedica is very definitely depicted as a human, rymrgand as an aurochs, ondra as a tittyfish, wael as an ever-changing eyeless abomination. then there's the slightly more ambiguous ones: skaen as depicted in game is almost certainly an elf or a human, and hylea and magran both sport the pointed ears of elves even if it's never made explicit that that's what they are. abydon is probably human, although he could be an elf, or a robot man if your watcher fucked up. eothas and his aspect gaun were always referred to as "a young man," but no particular species was ever attributed to him as far as i remember, although human feels most likely probably largely due to his possession of the human maros nua's statue. and of course, a god can manifest as pretty much whatever they damn well please: two people, three people, an animal, a swarm of animals, a giant half-animal, half-man monster, a bunch of floating eyeballs, etc. etc.

but galawain looks an awful lot like an orlan, which would make him the only one (excluding wael's shapeshifting, of course). i don't know why it never occurred to me before, considering his very orlany ears, but what really made me look again was the markings on his face, very reminiscent of an orlan's two-toned skin:

compared to his beast companions he seems a bit tall for an orlan, but everything else seems to fit: green hair and brown skin are not outside the realm of possibility for an orlan, and then there's the long, hairy ears and the little spots orlans tend to have. plus it seems to be implied that the engwithans regarded orlans as barely civilized and animalistic, but still begrudgingly recognized them as kith, possibly due to their raw tenacity and prowess as ciphers. so how fitting that the architects of the gods would assign their cunning lord of beasts an orlan appearance! and fitting, too, that the tribes of eir glanfath with their large orlan population should venerate him so!

man the engwithans sucked.

anyway if anyone has any other thoughts or evidence, feel free to add on to this post ♡

[screamingmandrakes]

Due to the interest in my Tomarrymort post yesterday, I’ve decided to dump a Harrymort WIP I’m not sure if I’m going to finish. This is a little over 1k words. Content warning for non-consensual Somnophilia and references to previous sexual assault. So fair warning - dead dove: do not eat.

Thank you to @xenomorphology-ao3 for some lovely touches on this fic.

Given as this is not finished, this is not edited. Some things in it might be worded poorly because I hadn’t refined it yet. Basically, don’t hold this to too high of a standard lmao.

This was intended to be a sequel to all is fair (in love and war) It’s Voldemort having a inner crisis about the fact Harry will die some day lol.

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!”

- Chapter Thirty-six, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Little does Lord Voldemort value.

Few things are preeminent: power, for starters, second only to the blood of his mother coursing through his veins. Third, his body: spindling with skin stretched tightly over sharp, protruding bones, the vessel that brought him to victory. Nagini, a weapon forged for battle, with jagged fangs and the speed of a whip, follows suit.

Before all these things comes something immeasurable. His Soul. His Boy. His Harry. But as little as Lord Voldemort values, so too does he fear. He is an unstoppable force, unmovable by will. Unbreakable, even when abandoned in the forests of Albania. His Death Eaters paid the price for their insolence, yes, but he is a forgiving Lord. After all, he had forgiven Harry many times, drowning out the angry screams and curses until they finally faded away.

There is only one thing Voldemort fears, and that is death.

Not for himself, not anymore. Lord Voldemort will never die. Power rests heavily in his hands, soldiered into the minimal soul he has left. Time and victory have built him into an indestructible being, but His Boy does not exist as the same. He is not as fragile as Voldemort often deems; even as a young boy, he had withstood the force of his master, protected by the blood of his mother. But he is mortal — whole. Harry spends most of his days locked in their chamber, sitting in the middle of their inordinate bed while glaring bitterly wherever Voldemort stands. When he does not, he is kept close to his master’s side, bound to him by magic. Lord Voldemort takes care of what is his, and His Boy is no exception, but as mighty as he is, Harry does not exist without vulnerability.

It is now, as His Boy sleeps once more, dosed under yet another sedative potion brewed by his Lord’s dutiful servant. In the morning, Harry will rise to a goblet tainted with Amortentia. Harry has only a few precious moments to feel the full spectrum of his fury-led resistance before he’s subdued again, lulled into the fantasy fate crafted for them upon the death of his mother. This is a cycle driven solely by Harry’s refusal to submit – to accept the reality that has always been meant for him. It is not one Lord Voldemort prefers, but a necessary step he must take.

Food comes aplenty for His Boy, served on silver platters by trembling house elves. With a loud crack, they apparate out of the room as swiftly as they arrived, leaving Voldemort alone to attend to Harry. A product of his parents, Harry is just as willful as his foolish mother had been, refusing to accept mercy at the expense of his autonomy. Under the effects of the Amortentia, he is a willing participant, eagerly lapping the juices of freshly ripe pomegranates from Voldemort’s skeletal fingers. When he wakes, barely coherent, he fights with a fury Voldemort yearns to consume.

His Boy’s rage is a delicacy. Who is he to deny himself such a feast?

But for now, he is compliant, stretching across their bed with a dazed look on his face. His eyes rest at half-mast, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he comes in and out of consciousness. With each sunset, Harry’s body grows thinner. His pallid skin stretches over his bones, bleached from months without the sun. Voldemort’s long, bony fingers graze the tender skin of Harry’s inner thigh, his shirt bunched above his belly button, and he is reminded once again of Harry’s mortality. Each breath Harry takes is a breath closer to death.

He further trails the curve of Harry’s thighs, his sharp nail snagging on the expensive fabric of his pants. They’re tailored perfectly to his size, crafted from the highest quality material he could acquire. The Malfoy’s were not pleased to offer their funds for such a service, but Lord Voldemort’s word comes as law and no request by him shall be overlooked. Moving upward, he traces the button securing the clothing around Harry’s waist, his nail momentarily slipping under his waistband. Harry stirs, blinking hazily but otherwise does not object. Voldemort’s power does not come without resources; he is accompanied by the most skilled of potion makers. Snape brews as he’s asked, holding no questions for the purpose. A dash of valerian root does nicely for a modified sedative — not quite awake, yet not asleep.

“My Soul…” Voldemort hisses to nobody in particular. Harry’s chest rises and falls with a gentle motion. He seems truly at peace like this, far from the sobered version of him. Voldemort craves such a reality, but the taste of Harry’s stormy temper isn’t entirely opposed. It’s strength, something Voldemort has always valued. A narrow, shallow scratch lingers in the wake of his claw as he graces the hair lining Harry’s torso. Though still thin, Harry is far different from the scrawny boy Voldemort had faced while existing as nothing more than a part of Quirrell. Yes, he should have known then, known when Quirrell’s skin bubbled under Harry’s fingers, that His Boy was part of something much bigger than a prophecy.

Voldemort’s nail travels further, combing through the dark, coarse hair until he dips into the divet of Harry’s navel. Harry shudders sleepily, his stomach twitching under his touch. The bed groans as Voldemort leans closer, his other hand reaching to brush the hair from Harry’s face. He is just eighteen now, only a few years older than Voldemort was when he murdered his father. Yet Harry is different. When he isn’t bellowing at Voldemort or existing in a drugged up stupor, Harry is kind. He speaks to the house elves with compassion that makes them scatter, fearful of the unfamiliar sweetness. He tells them please and thank you and offers a smile, even when it’s exceptionally weak.

His Boy is nothing like him, yet they are one of the same.

Perhaps, one day he’ll allow Harry to have a wand again. Not yet, as His Boy is still rather combative. Their duel in the graveyard had been a fluke, a stroke of luck, but Harry is not entirely inept at battle. Not enough to give him freedom. But now, as His Boy remains plaint under his fingertips, it is Lord Voldemort that harnesses all of the power. The hand not on Harry’s stomach grazes over the scar on his forehead, feeling the thrum of their connection in his fingertips. Voldemort does not feel whole—cannot feel whole—but there is a snap like two puzzle pieces fitting together whenever he touches Harry.

His hand falls from Harry’s forehead, passing over his collarbones and down his chest until he stops where the boy’s shirt scrunches up. For a moment, both hands rest there, white claws stark against his skin. It’s the perfect image — Harry, long limbed and thinly built, muscles undefined from months of inactivity, at his Lord’s disposal. He is frighteningly fragile like this, and the thought makes something acidic churn in Voldemort’s gut. It’s an abnormal feeling, one that doesn’t belong to a being like him. Lord Voldemort does not care for others, but Harry Potter’s life rests in the palm of his hand, his to twist and mend. His to protect.

His Soul will yearn for nothing — feel pain only from the hand of his Master. He has made sure to take vengeance where it is due; the remaining heirs of His Boy suffered terrible, merciless deaths. Voldemort feasted on the pain, savored the wailing of the detestable mother and the terrified yet defiant bellowing of the red-faced father as their brat of a son thrashed on the floor. Exterminating vermin comes with ease.

But love — no, love is not something that comes naturally to Lord Voldemort. It is an act met with repulsion, perceived as weakness. There is no good and evil, yet the notion of love remains inexplicably good. Voldemort does not feel love— no, love is a vulnerability, love is foolish. Love is what killed Lily Potter, yet kept His Boy alive. He does not — cannot — love Harry, but he holds the urge to tear the world apart and offer him the pieces. Power has little place within Harry Potter, and Lord Voldemort owns no desire to share such a thing. But Harry has no place among the Mudbloods of the world, and what can Voldemort offer if not rightful respect?

Slowly, Voldemort moves upward again, his hand gliding along Harry’s torso until his fingers slip under his shirt. Harry shifts once more, his eyelids fluttering open to show glassy, unfocused eyes as he attempts to find purchase in reality. Voldemort merely smiles, lip pulling back menacingly to expose the two serrated teeth protruding from his mouth. He knows Harry will not remember this come morning.

His skin is hot to the touch as Voldemort’s fingers, cold and clinical, explore his body. It is not much different than he had been fifty some years ago, but the curves and contours of Harry feel much more delicate. Despite his inactivity, in actuality, Harry is still rather strong, clawing at his Master with ferocity whenever Voldemort comes to take what is his. His fingers slip through the splattering of hair on Harry’s chest.

[imperator-titus]

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.)

Gin Shiaong

Mods: Trips Accessories + Jerenski_Piercing-Edits_Trips, ASTRL Hair Color Supplement, Vessnelle's Hair Collection (M23)

Race: Human

Class: Barbarian (Wild Heart)

Sex/Gender: Male/Cis

Orientation: Homosexual

In a relationship with Venxiatel

Brother to Nei-Fonn

Strongman in a circus, also tried his hand at fire-eating

Venxiatel

Race: Dragonborn (Brass)

Class: Druid (In-Game: Circle of the Land, 5e: Claims to be Circle of the Scale, which no longer exists)

Sex/Gender: Male/Agender

Orientation: Doesn't understand the assignment (Just likes Gin)

Very aloof, seemingly "forgetful", easily distracted

I think that is probably all for GftP OCs. I did a pretty thorough sweep of mods so I doubt I'll change anything anytime soon.

[ivoirin]

(composed and written by Kazuki / arranged by Yuki/Raphael)

The elves' melancholy

エルフは踊る　愉快な宴 「呪いの定め」 セラフは歌う 愉快な舞踏 「呪いの運命」

空では月まで青ざめて　負けず嫌いなお星様

ゆら　ゆら　七色の夢 くら　くら　ラララくらくら

エルフは踊る　愉快な宴 「呪いの定め」 セラフは歌う　愉快な舞踏 「呪いの運命」

今では僕まで青ざめて 負けず嫌いな金縛り

ゆら　ゆら　七色の夢 くら　くら　ラララくらくら

ふわ　ふわ　異国のベッド ひら　ひら　そこをどいてよ

The elves dance; a delightful feast "Cursed destiny" The seraphs sings; a merry dance “Cursed fate”

In the sky even the moon appears pallid and the mighty stars are sore losers.

Gently swaying is the seven-colored dream, Spinning, twirling, la la la...

The elves dance; a delightful feast "Cursed destiny" The seraphs sings; a merry dance “Cursed fate”

Now, I too, am pale and the sleep paralysis is sore loser.

Gently swaying is the seven-colored dream, Spinning, twirling, la la la...

Oh, soft, so soft… a foreign bed. Flutter, flutter, get out of the way!

[lordgrimwing]

On Crossing The Helcaraxë

[for March of the Noldor, hosted by @march-of-the-noldor]

Crossing the Helcaraxë was not easy. Hard does not even begin to describe the enormity of the undertaking or the torment of the Noldor upon the ice. When they reach Middle-earth, when they finally step off that barren waste dividing Arda from Aman, they are changed. Their families and friends back home might struggle to recognize them: gone are the beautifully styled hair, the gleaming gems, the heavy necklaces and bangles, the easy hope. They wear thick furs, crudely stitched together with sinew; their hair lays long and limp, dull in the sunlight and fragile in their hands; their bodies are thin, worn down to pallid skin stretched over the bones of their faces. Yet in their eyes, a pale light gleams, the light of the trees shining out of them, sustaining them just one step further.

The Sindar looked upon them with awe. These tall elves with features sharp as a blade, who did the unthinkable and crossed the endless ice desert, mighty and powerful. The awe fades when the truth comes out about their flight from Aman.

For some, crossing the Helcaraxë changed more than their bodies. They looked after each other on the ice, called out dangerous patches, fended off strange predators, and always shared what they found. Either they all ate, or no one did. If there was not enough food for a mouthful each, they gave it to the weakest. Anyone caught taking more than their share or trying to hide a small animal they caught was swiftly punished. Even after centuries in Middle-earth, some of them cannot set aside what they learned in the bitter cold.

Some never escape the hunger. They starved across the ice for decades; saw the rising of the moon and sun while gnawing bones of the wild animals and the unlucky; stumbled across the heaving ice, faint with hunger, as the mountains grew higher behind them, baring the path back. Over the years, the endless hunger wrote itself into their souls and the bridle remains of their bodies. In Arda, surrounded by food, they feel that this bite will be their last, that they will never be full again. They think ever of where they will find more food for everyone.

Some can never escape the lingering chill. They wear heavy robes, with cloaks lined in thick furs. Their skin is rarely uncovered. Woolen socks, gloves, and facecloths are common. For those seeking the comfort of a covering more than warmth, linen is preferred. When they must rest, either revelry or the exhausted sleep of Men, blankets keep the memories from creeping in like bitter frost.

Few who crossed the ice remain in Middle-earth by the Second Age.

[nosferatil]

"He LOOKS like he's lost his wife.." - My DM 😭

The kind-of sort-of 'there' father of my PC, Vali (He was trying)

I heart pallid elves man smth about them is just so ethereal <333

[outofangband]

Birds of Dorthonion

Flora, fauna, geography and environment of Arda Masterlist

Dorthonion was a region north of greater Beleriand. It was a cool region covered in steep slopes, conifer forests and Heath covered highlands. The mountain range Ered Gorgoroth bordered it on the south and above it was the fields of Ard Galen. It was inhabited by the Arafinwëan host following Aegnor and Angrod and later, the human host following Bëor. Nomadic and semi nomadic groups of the northern Sindar and Avari also possibly lived there

As always I included world building notes at the end so it’s not just a list of species

In the conifer forests: black grouse, willow tit, goldcrest, mistle thrush, pine grossbeak, common tree creeper, common redstart, black woodpecker, chiffchaff, coal tit, common raven, crested tit, wood grouse, goshawk, spruce grouse, black throated thrush, pine bunting, boreal owl

The highlands and around Tarn Aeulin: graylag goose, common nightjar, common kestrel, snow crane, hen harrier, tundra swan, horned grebe, common crane, blue duck, water rail, black francolin, northern pintail, velvet scooter, great bittern, pallid harrier, rough legged hawk, little egret, wood lark, corn crane, black necked grebe (migratory), garganey, Merlin

The cliffs and slopes: see see partridge, rock dove, great bustard, long legged buzzard, common quail, black headed bunting, booted eagle, chukard, barred warbler, northern wren, little owl, white throated dipper (near Rivil’s well), black winged kite, steppe eagle, roller

The mountain border: bearded vulture, red fronted serin, black stork, snowcock, horned lark, rock bunting, wallcreeper, blue rock thrush, red kite, peregrine falcon, golden eagle (rare), white wagtail

World building notes:

-The vague images of pine grossbeaks were embroidered on the blankets of Bëorian children using a diluted version of the dyes created from blood madder and coal. The name in Bëorian Taliska translates to pine song bird.

-The Arafinwëan host of Dorthonion as well as some of the Avarin groups hunt with birds of prey which are also used by some of the scouts. Kestrels and Harriers are the most commonly used species. The practice is less common than among the Noldor of Eastern Beleriand however.

-Feathers (usually of peregrine falcons or common kestrels) were also used as a method of communication among Arafinwëan scouts during the times of year where weather would allow for this, left in strategic locations, lodged into the earth or tucked into trees to indicate presence or dangers.

-Eggs of various ground species were eaten by the Bëorian population and there was a practice of burying the eggshells. This was learned from the elves of Ossiriand prior to their settling in Dorthonion.

-Birds eggs appear in Northern Sindar art, in or separate from nests. Though the eggs of certain species have different meanings, they are commonly associated more generally with fragility and defense. Their images may be created through pigments made from certain actual eggshells as well as minerals and plant based dyes. One common motif involves a nest of eggs upon a steep slope or cliff.

-Birds appear throughout Bëorian songs and poems. Most commonly mentioned are the general name for the “fisher birds” (wading and diving birds) seen on and around Tarn Aeulin, as well as several of the smaller songbirds found in the pine forests such as pine grosbeak, tree creepers, and thrushes. After the Bragollach the names for some species became lost or translated differently.

-Also it’s been a headcanon of mine for awhile that Baragund would take Morwen when she was a young child out to the cliffs to watch the birds. He would teach her to identify them by their call. She remembers a lot of them, even as an adult though they are called different names and their habits are often unfamiliar.

[dragon-appreciator-fray]

Depths of Promises Sworn

A Reading by the Author

Tonight's Chapter: 2 - Fourteenth of Her Unholy Brood

Link to Chapter 1

Same deal as two weeks ago. I'm reading my own writing and sharing my extensive thoughts below the cut. Like the original text, this week and every week that follows will preface content warnings that will likely not stop getting worse anytime soon.

But that's Depths of Promises Sworn in a nutshell. An entire cast of really good girls in the jaws of an arranged marriage between two imperial powers that is slowly closing around them.

If this is your first time seeing this, there are 27 chapters available for free in the link below at the time of writing this post.

Content Warnings: (I go into detail on Scribblehub/Royal Road)

Self Harm, Misgendering, and unwanted Bodily Alterations

Immediately, Ayre is in full discomfort mode. Attempting to minimize physical contact while barreling their way through a social situation with someone who pays respect to every detail that Ayre feels stifled by.

I'm not being subtle with Amari's white fur being associated with nothing but trouble and Ayre later being greeted with hostility for having pale and pallid flesh.

As a writer, I'm white and writing about transitioning within an imperial core that is hostile to me, but is still willing to afford me privilege that others would be denied. This story isn't going to shy away from the cast's complicity in imperialism.

That said, Ayre shows a lot of signs of already being abused. That they are aware of much of the harm Vylia does to others and has decent instincts is part of what makes them interesting as a protagonist to me. But they are being traded away in an arranged marriage to Lunaria. This is just the start of Ayre being uncomfortable in a new climate and surrounded by strangers.

Amari does absolutely infantilize Ayre a touch here. The relentless calls of Princeling and seizing on any perceived insecurity on her part is something most of Ayre's siblings would expect and appreciate. Ayre's mentioned as such in the last chapter.

But getting to see someone else play out that part makes Ayre incredibly uncomfortable. A fun thing on reflection is that I'm incredibly glad I drove a wedge between Ayre and Amari immediately. This story's first arc would absolutely not survive the two of them becoming close at any point. With that said, Amari has every reason not to want to get close to Ayre, but to push at their buttons and twist the knife and just be kind of a bitch here.

I'm REALLY happy with how that shakes out. It lets me save incredibly insightful Amari PoV chapters for the Second Arc where her investment in the plot and Ayre's own understanding of their sense of self is a lot more relevant.

Gemstones feature prominently in this chapter too. Astraea's Onyx plating goes unremarked upon as something fun for readers to chew on. Because the moment Ayre sees the Lunarian Watcher masks, they begin to speculate on the kind of perception enhancements the gemstones enable.

Charged stones. A drain on emotions. And an off the cuff remark about anyone not being useful being bled of any and all emotions considered unnecessary to perform a role are all the kinds of thing Ayre would learn with a low DC Knowledge roll. The latter piece of information is slightly inaccurate gossip. It's not that bleak, but it certainly paints a picture of the kind of society Ayre is stepping into.

And then there is the commentary on that stones are resistant to change.

So. Quick sidebar. Lunarians are Elves that have changed enough to not have any respect for the very idea of a "Race." They have cut stones that help them control the kind of changes bodies get. (If that sounds like a slippery slope, this story will eventually have Eugenics content warnings.)

I even left the design of Ayre's arranged marriage partners, Cerya and Theriya almost entirely up to the artist I commissioned. Just gave her some fun inspiration and accepted whatever I got handed.

Lunarians are gonna deviate wildly from what one might expect of Elves, relying heavily on stonework and metal/gem crafts because even fantasy wood is an incredibly mutable and fragile material.

And then we have Astraea. Who is here and trying to do her best, but Ayre is more than capable of representing themselves as one of the Castellan's blood.

Ayre gets to make some very fun first impressions.

Self harm is important to how Ayre operates, but this isn't elaborated on immediately.

Ayre is happy to lose a limb here. So long as no one shoots a bolt through their heart.

And then the Second Thorned Watcher approaches Ayre to give the readers some fun descriptors that finish building up Ayre as an inhuman monster.

Black sclera, pallid and sunken flesh. (Hello subtle indicator of Aayre's self harm in the form of self deprivation) And a view of Ayre's fangs to top off the Vampire allegations.

Yeah. Fourteenth of Her Unholy Brood presents Ayre as Vampire Royalty.

Ayre immediately gets unpleasant. Like, STRAIGHT to threats while doubling down on a willingness to have grievous wounds inflicted upon their person in the process.

Just to make a point.

What's funny, is that I didn't expect to even be sharing this story with you all. I had an entire other story I intended to be writing instead of Depths of Promises Sworn, but I decided I wanted it to be a carefully edited novel.

Depths was meant to gain me an audience to sell said novel. Both very quickly depict protagonists who are willing to escalate scenarios far past anyone else is willing to risk in order to sidestep a fight.

It... didn't work out for Jill.

Ayre though, it works beautifully. They've got an entire extended family of abusers with a reputation for being monsterous brutes to lean on.

Only for Ayre to immediately spiral into a series of thoughts that depict them as someone merely going through the motions of what they expect their siblings to do. Ayre's justifications and framing in their head risk violence over reckless assumptions to make.

But in this instance, they are right enough that the threats stick.

We're not going to talk about Amari's cloth bound husks pulling the carriage. The TLDR is that they're undead.

It ended up not coming up for all of Arc 1 and a lot of the justifications for using undead also don't come up until Arc 1's end.

Don't worry about it. :)

Once Ayre is through the gates, a touch on the shoulder is enough for Ayre to... let go. Everything loses focus as what is described as a parasite eases off their chest.

One of the only instances of the words biological processes are used here to give the impression that what has been done to Ayre is academic/scientific in nature. Vylia has academies that get the rare mention, but they won't feature prominently until we leave Lunaria.

A note to my past self would have been to allow Ayre to lean into some academic language, but that blanket of descriptors and characterization got gobbled up by Theriya when drafting the cast.

This chapter ends on an important line for this arc, that come from Astraea: "It's over. You're not fine. You are not the role placed upon you, but so much more. For the first time in your life, you are far from the watchful gaze of the Castellan, her Executioners, and your siblings. You are allowed to just… not be fine."

None of this brings Ayre any comfort.

They're not ready for that.

Being separated from their abusers demands time before the lasting grip on Ayre no longer suffocates them.

Ayre's entire body shakes.

They have stated an acceptance with losing limbs.

When Ayre looks at parts of their body, they don't recognize parts of itself as theirs.

The rest... comes from a sister, Lenore.

One whom Ayre loved dearly, suggesting yet another reason why Ayre differs from the rest of their family.

I'm incredibly comfortable associating Lenore as a reason why Ayre is likeable. Even if a dead woman in a man's backstory/motivation is something I find incredibly distasteful. I knew from the very beginning that what I wanted to do with Ayre would take the perception of that and run with it before getting very very very messy with the unrevealed reality of Ayre's bodily situation.

But that's enough from me.

Ayre ends this chapter lying through their teeth.

They. Are. Fine. Better than fine, really.

The road to accepting that they are not okay is a long and bloody one that will span the entirety of Arc One. But it need not be an unpleasant one. Not when Ayre is quickly surrounded by seven (or eight, hehe) insightful girls who all see so much thoughtful kindness in Ayre.

Yeah. I really really enjoy writing these reflection pieces. It's so easy to fall in love with my own writing when I put so much time and effort to make it appeal to me.

I can only hope that there's enough here to catch the eyes of discerning girl and monster enjoyers.

[fandom-reblog-central]

I wish there were more af x dp and af x dc content

Artemis is prime adoption material as a child genius with black hair and blue eyes, and the clone and time travel stuff with Danny would slay

Post TLG: “You… overshadowed your clone?” “He was empty.”

Tim may have figured out the Batfam’s identities as a wee lad, but Artemis discovered and finessed a fae government

Holly has to fight a rogue (from either dp or dc)

Danny meets another weird rich person who is at least a little evil and obsessed with something inhuman

Orion and the batkids become besties

Artemis is rich: there could be gala shenanigans

Artemis starts studying ghosts since he’s on better terms with the fairies and the Zone is confused by this pallid living boy and his tank of a Butler

There’s even a chance for reformed rogue nonsense since he was raised to be an unscrupulous figure

Everyone bonding over the massive responsibilities they have despite being children

Bonding over the lack of real recognition

Arty and Timber bond over their absent parents and batshit (heh) shenanigans

Perhaps even Artemis (post character development) bonding over being slightly annoyed about needing to protect and always be better (Danny or batfam tbh)

Liminal!/Halfa!Artemis since he’s died before

Butler and Alfred know each other

Bruce trained at Madame Ko’s for a stint and met Juliet or Domovoi

Danny brings a message from Root/informs the poor man about what Holly is up to with everyone’s least favorite Mud Boy (and maybe angst where they meet again??)

Would Orion be in the Zone?

Arty and Damian bond (first over scathing judgements of others, then over shared interests, or they fill in each other’s gaps of knowledge, and they both have issues with their parental figures that remain unresolved)

Damian bullies Artemis for being weak and having generally bad reflexes (he’s so stabbable)

Artemis helps Danny modify his parents’ inventions (and/or gets into a friendly competition with Foaly and/or Tim to do so, Mulch tries to steal it)

Mulch tries to rob Bruce Wayne and gets in over his head

Goblin in Gotham

Troll in Amity Park

Ghost in Fowl Manor

Constantine is desperately avoiding the LEP

Holly blows up the Nasty Burger in a mission gone wrong (why is the sauce so flammable???)

The Riddler just can’t get one over on Artemis Fowl II

Tucker and Artemis end up in a hack-off with Foaly as the ref (or any combo of that lol—maybe even toss the dc computer batkids in there)

The Batfam finds they can’t speak another language to avoid being understood by Holly

Damian giving into whimsy and trying to disguise it as a diplomatic/vigilante/“just curious” thing when asking Holly about elves

Foaly messes with the batfam or tucker (or even the fruit loop)

Arty and the Bats are allies, find Holly, and when they take her in, she says something like “reminds me of the time Artemis kidnapped me” (Cue concern and confusion from BatFam, or, alternatively, “yeah, that sounds right”)

Batsy adopts another emotionally constipated child with a moral compass that knows where North is most of the time, but doesn’t like facing that direction

Barbara powers through some interference trying to defeat a rogue and discovers the LEP

Portal issues lead to Arty and the gang in the Zone or Gotham

Lazarus is a portal to the demon world, explaining the hair change (and possibly rage)

Dick trains Artemis to get more flexible, Jason bullies him into lifting weights or working on his punches, Damian keeps him on his toes with the whole stabbing thing—

Danny is enlisted by the LEP to tail Mulch underground, finds BatCave

There’s so much that could happen

This was so fun and exciting to think of, but I can’t do any of them justice

I am not a fanfic writer but I want this so bad

If anyone has any more concepts or perhaps even a snippet, please tag me!!