#the fact that they have the coloring of a drow?? god

[fairytaletold]

I really feel like these ads must be reading the actual writing on my blog and targeting me — ????

[abigailmoment]

It wasn't just bad luck that Staeve was targeted. It was a calculated attack. Halsin knew well enough how a caster could examine their enemies for tells. Halsin did it himself. Considered an opponent's tactics, and guessed at the places their mind would be most vulnerable.

You didn't have to be a gifted empath to watch how Staeve hurled himself into the thick of combat, right at the biggest bandit wielding the two-handed great sword, and think that the man might be vulnerable to a spell that exploited wisdom.

The fact that it took down Astarion too, well, perhaps that one was just bad luck.

It happened like this:

-

This is written about @velnna's Tav, Staeve. I was delighted to discover that they don't mind fan fiction being written about him.

I'm always cautious about writing for other people's OCs--getting voices right is so important to me. I have elegantly avoided that issue here.

-

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

-

The fight was an incidental bit of banditry. Dangerous banditry, certainly. Bandits with  great swords, supported by wizards. Halsin hung back with Gale while the two rogues dashed forward to give truth to the old adage that the best defense was killing the other fellow extremely quickly. 

They cut down the man with the great sword and the woman with the mace and shield. Reinforcements were coming from around a rocky overhang. Halsin coaxed the earth to throw up entangling vines to slow them down. Gale drenched them with glimmering light that illuminated all their vulnerable points for Astarion and Staeve to shoot at.

Only the half-orc made it through the vines and the light. He was bloodied and wrathful. He was huge, but it was two against one, and the two were flanking with each other. It would have been an easy end to the combat, except that apparently there was a bandit wizard hidden somewhere in the trees who chose this moment to cast a spell. 

One second Staeve was a blood spattered half-drow sprinting full-tilt, sword out, towards a fighter twice his size. And then he was gone.

Some sort of teleportation? Banishment? Gale was saying something about trajectory and scanning the treeline. Halsin was yelling, he wasn't sure what, the concern was more important than the words. He started running forward. Because two rogues against a barbarian was fine, but one rogue against a barbarian was an extremely fast way for that rogue to die.

And Astarion knew that so he should be running away. But he wasn't running away. He was darting forward and ducking low and almost getting hit by a greataxe as he snatched something off of the ground. 

Then he was running, thank the Gods. There was something cradled in his arms, which meant he didn't have his rapier out as he scrambled back.

It was a cat. Halsin saw. They were ten feet away from each other when Halsin realized that Astarion was carrying a large, extremely upset tabby cat with grey-green fur.

That was when Astarion vanished. No. Not vanished. As the tabby tumbled to the ground, something small and white was already there, darting for cover. 

Then the half-orc arrived. Bellowing and huge, at least when compared to cats. Not quite as huge when compared to Halsin. 

Halsin decided to turn into a bear. It was amazing how many problems you could solve by turning into a bear. 

-

"I am feeling my oversight in not preparing dispel magic today," said Gale. "Or counterspell."

"This is not a situation we could have anticipated," Halsin said.

Staeve contributed to the conversation, but because of present circumstances, it came out as a meow.

He was large for a cat. His fur was pale brown, tabby-striped with green. His stripes crisscrossed in a way that reminded Halsin of his tattoos. His scar was a fur-less groove in his face. He had the same pale green eyes as always. That color was quite appropriate in a cat.

He meowed again, more insistently this time.

"We will," Halsin assured him. 

"You're speaking with him?" Gale asked. 

"Not magically," Halsin said. It had been a long day and he had barely anything left to cast with. "But I think I understand him."

"Do you?"

"Think a moment and I am confident that you too will guess what he wants from us."

It did only take a moment. Gale was an intelligent man, when prompted. And they'd all seen the small white cat vanish into the woods during the bear-orc fight.

"Ah. Of course." Gale addressed the cat, voice reassuring. "Astarion should be relatively safe though. Polymorph is temporary and even if something did happen to him in the interim, he would just revert to his natural form."

Staeve's whiskers went back and his ears went flat in a thoroughly unimpressed way. 

"I think it would be best to find him and make sure nothing happens," Halsin said with mellow diplomacy. 

"Of course." Gale paused, then said delicately: "Given my skill in woodland matters, or lack thereof, I may best serve this cause by getting out of the way."

Halsin smiled. "It is a wise man who knows his limitations."

"I'll meet you all back at camp then?" said Gale.

"Take a potion of invisibility for the trip," Halsin suggested. "There might still be bandits about."

Staeve had gotten impatient with them, and was padding off into the forest. Halsin handed Gale the potion and hastened to follow.

-

Staeve scampered about the forest like he was looting the place. No hole, hollow log, wasp nest, or brown recluse spider-web was left uninvestigated. The loss of seventy five percent of his gray matter had done the man's already flagging survival instincts no favors. Halsin spent half of his attention looking for signs of a small white cat, and half of his time making sure Staeve's efforts at tracking didn't get him killed.

After being only a hairsbreadth quick enough to pull Staeve away from the entrance to a dire-badger-burrow Halsin decided that his partner was now going to be carried. Staeve made a meowling, writhing objection. He was terribly invested in the search. A compromise was reached when he was offered a perch high on Halsin's broad shoulders. Staeve proceeded to clamber from shoulder to shoulder as Halsin walked, ears always forward and alert, eyes bright, head turning this way and that as he scanned the woods.

Small cats with stealth training were not easy things to track through dense forest. Halsin did end up using his last spell slot to cast speak with animals. The local mice and voles always noticed when predators passed, even small ones. Halsin spoke to them while keeping one hand on Staeve, who watched the tiny creatures with bright, newly interested eyes.

Halsin of course spoke with Staeve as well, but it wasn't quite the same. Talking to a person who had been transformed into an animal was not the same as talking to that person. Shape changed you. How you saw things. How you thought. The mind of a cat was a fraction of the size of that of an elf or half-elf. Thinking with it was different. The change was easiest for druids. It was hardest for the cursed, who did not choose the new shape. Who were surprised by it.

He spoke to Staeve and learned things he had already known from observation. He reassured Staeve that the mice had given useful guidance.

That guidance led them north, then west, and then to a long hollow log, moss covered and broken in two places. A good hiding spot, and the sort of shelter that had a lot of escape routes. Staeve jumped off of Halsin's shoulder as the druid knelt down and they both peered inside.

In the darkness, Halsin could just make out a pair of ruby-bright eyes staring warily back at him. 

Beside him, Halsin watched Staeve relax for the first time since becoming a cat. He wasn't actually as large as Halsin had first thought--it was just that his hackles had been up and his tail puffed out for the duration of the transformation.

It could be a painful thing indeed, to have one's heart so completely entwined with another's safety. A deeply worthwhile thing, but a painful thing, sometimes. 

Halsin made a deferring motion to Staeve, who nodded in a rather un-catlike like way. Halsin stepped back from the log, moving slowly so as not to startle anything. He shifted a few feet away and sat close enough to watch, but far away enough that his looming size wasn't an ominous thing.

Staeve didn't go inside the hollow log. He sat at the entrance. Lay down at the entrance, body long and casual, head up on the lip of the log so he could keep looking inside. Modeling relaxation.

He started to purr. Halsin could hear him purring even from a few feet away. A loud, constant, soothing rumble. It somehow did not surprise Halsin that Staeve had a loud purr.

And then Staeve waited. Patient as anything. Waiting and watching and purring in a low buzz, as steadily as a beehive.

Halsin could not see inside the log, but he could guess at when Astarion moved because Staeve's ears would flick. Staeve had a fine poker face, but everyone had tells. 

Something happened, or occurred to him, that made Staeve raise his head and sit up slightly from his sprawl on the ground. Then he stood up entirely. He gave Halsin a significant look, and trotted off into the underbrush. 

Conscious that he had just been assigned new responsibility, Halsin shifted so that he had a good view of the log's entrances and everything around it. There wasn't much danger, Halsin’s presence in general kept most predators away from this space. But still.

During his vigil, Halsin saw the glimmer of red cat-eyes once. And only briefly. 

Staeve came back soon. He had a dead vole in his mouth and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He dropped the vole at the mouth of the log, took a few pawpads back and watched expectantly.

It took another long minute, but after that minute a small white cat crept out of the darkness.

This should surprise no one, but Astarion was a beautiful cat. Slender and graceful with large eyes. His fur was pure, silvery white and just long enough to curl slightly. He moved with a cautious precision that Halsin recognized as his habit, and that deeply suited his new form. 

He sniffed at the vole. He shot Staeve a judgmental look, because Gods forbid the man accept any kindness without prevaricating about it in some way. He glanced at Halsin. And then he leaned down to slide exceptionally long canines into the corpse's chest.

Staeve flopped down about a foot away and watched him with an expression of pleased devotion that would honestly be a bit more appropriate on a dog.

Astarion ate fastidiously, and without getting even a blot of blood on his snow-white fur. When he finished he licked his teeth.

When Staeve was quite sure Astarion was done eating, he sidled up slantwise, sauntering around the vole corpse as if he just casually happened to be taking a stroll in this part of the forest for no particular reason. He stopped just short of Astarion. His ears were forward. His tail flicked lightly from side to side. 

Astarion regarded him levelly with his 'I know what you're doing and I know you think you're being clever about it but you're not' expression. Then, as if granting a boon, he deigned to rub his forehead gently against the underside of Staeve's chin.

Staeve took this as the invitation that it was and pressed back, much more enthusiastic and honest in his delight at the contact. Which in turn gave Astarion an excuse and space to do what he wanted and enjoy it.

They were always very dear to watch together. Whatever form they took. In about a minute they were curled over each other on the ground and Staeve was industriously grooming Astarion's head.

Halsin let this go on for as long as he could. But the shadows were lengthening, and they were very close to the Shadowlands, and he was out of spell slots, and the rogues were currently housecats.

"It is getting late, dear ones," he said softly. 

Astarion twitched at the interruption, and Staeve licked him three times along the neck and chest in a soothing way. Then they disentangled from each other and padded over to Halsin.

Halsin picked up Staeve, but he knelt down and laid his arm on the ground so that Astarion could climb up and find what perch he wanted by himself. They did both end up in his arms. Staeve was tired and quite ready to be carried, and Astarion didn't want to be out of contact with him.

As Halsin walked through the woods with an armfull of cat, Staeve started to purr again. It was really the most marvelous sound. A soothing distillation of satisfaction and care. Almost enough to tempt one away from being a bear.

Astarion did not purr. Some cats didn't. Or purred only very rarely. But Astarion did, at one point, look up at Halsin and blink his bright red eyes very slowly. 

And that was a precious thing.

****

Other stories like this.

****

[nightmaremonarch]

jojo’s bizarre fantasy au BECAUSE I LOVE PART 5 AUGHHHHHHHHH

i rewatched the entirety of part five in the span it took to make this. Details about the lore and characters below the cut ^_^

Ok. I will be separating this based on character… in an attempt to be more organized. Included will also be my friend’s description that she gave for each character upon seeing the drawing.

Giorno Giovanna — Race, half vampire. Stand name, Gaia. Unfortunately lost his silly victory rolls, which have been replaced with donut shaped curls. Has a dream of usurping the Crimson King and ending his oppressive reign.

Friend’s Description: “‘pink is still manly for this era guys trust’”

Trish Una — Race, human(?). Stand name, Spice. I like to think she tries to maintain an air of elegance and superiority, but she’s just a kid who doesn’t particularly want to be in the situation she’s in. The princess of an underground kingdom? No way. She just wants to be Trish.

Friend’s Description: “Noblelady”

Guido Mista — Race, human. Stand name, Coitus Cluster (good god the creative juices are NOT flowing). Best archer, like, ever. Probably enjoys animal furs but is too broke to get any. Stinky loser.

Friend’s Description: “Robin hood.”

Pannacotta Fugo — Race, elf. Stand name, Purple Death. Former nobleman and still dresses like it. Had to limit the holes in his clothes because he is, unfortunately, not immune to being sunburn.

Friend’s Description: “totally not a vampire”

Bruno Bucciarati — Race, human. Stand name, Strings of Fate. I love him. He’s the love of my life. I may or may not have put the most effort into his outfit. He’s so beautiful. No notes. Also, since zippers weren’t invented till like… mid 1800’s, rather than zippers, he uses strings!!! Tugs on ‘em the way you would a loose hem…

Friend’s Description: “Italian nobleman”

Leone Abbacchio — Race, drow. Stand name, Rewind. It takes the form of a snake!! Because Moody Blues had them.. neck thangs. I don’t know. Anyways. Abbacchio coulda been drippier, but at the time of drawing I was running low on brain power.

Friend’s Description: “TOTALLY NOT A VAMPIRE”

Narancia Ghirga — Race, human. Stand name, Pheonix. Due to the fact that airplanes did NOT exist prior to some point in the 1900’s, Narancia’s stand is a bird. Probably breathes fire and can detect carbon dioxide… cannot come back from the dead though. Sorry buddy. Also, his left eye is blind from his eye infection. Sorry again buddy.

Friend’s Description: “peasant working on a merchant ship”

AND FINALLY:

Diavolo — Race, Demon. The Crimson King. He took FOREVER to draw. Especially those tattoos. I tried to make his color scheme salvageable, but seeing as I was working with Diavolo’s actual color scheme… it is not the best. Diavolo used to have wings as well, but after an incident that prompted him to go underground, they’re gone. He hides in the body of a halfling named Vinegar Doppio… though they are two completely separate entities.

Friend’s Description: “Dante’s homosexual Inferno”

idk if ill elaborate more on this au. depends on the reception of this…!! this is all just for fun… goofs and gaffs… love u sorry for only posting wips for months before this

also in this au i think stands would be called spirits/be spirits ok that’s all fr now bye love u

[meanbossart]

Seeing baby Drow made me wonder, how did he get to the Underdark?? Did Bhaal "birthed" him there? Did he chose to manifest him there where other drow could find him? Or did Sceleritas took him?

PS: I'm loving your art and lore

The nature of The Dark Urge's birth is pretty vague, and that's the kind of unsettling mystery that I like preserving. He's found just as he is in the art I posted in a puddle of blood and placenta with not much to indicate he didn't just spawn right there, like he either fell from the sky or sprouted out of the ground.

So, logistically, I'm not interested in coming up with much of an explanation. But- as far as intent goes I would say Bhaal meant for his child to appear and grow under some the least beneficial circumstances possible. Had DU drow not been found by the gnome slaves, he would have certainly starved to death with no godly intervention to speak of, and his childhood was one where he had to learn to fend for himself almost as soon as he could walk.

All of the evil gods of the realms seem burdened with a constant cruel streak that renders some of their actions almost totally illogical - why not make sure your prodigy is brought up in complete comfort and safety instead of putting it in a situation where death was nearly inevitable? Why risk wasting your precious flesh and blood like that? Because it would be too easy, that's why. You want to see your son conquer, but he must suffer first, lest he become attached to this plane he's destined to burn down.

So I don't think Bhaal ever did anything with the intention to facilitate DU drow's upbringing. Being his child wasn't enough, he had to prove himself worthy of the title by surviving every odd and hopefully become thoroughly cynical of humanity in the process. Sceleritas only appeared to him at around age 10, and even then he couldn't tell him what he was or what he was capable of, only offer vague guidance towards a final, grandiose goal.

Not in the question, but I guess adjacent to it - he only looks like a drow because of where he spawned, too. Like how certain trees only grow in certain biomes. And the variations (physique and slightly odd skin and hair coloration, specially for a male) are due to the fact that he most definitely isn't one, really.

[littlemourningstarr]

Feed the Beast

Sekh finally gets that drink Rugan promised him- with a far more enjoyable outcome than he initially expected.

Kinktober 2024, Day 23: "Creampie"

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, jealousy, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, creampie, voyeurism, kinktober, kinktober 2024

Sekh knotted his hair back as he headed down the stairs of the Elfsong. The tavern was beginning to bustle, the light of the day fading, most of the patrons willing to utterly ignore the threat of the Absolute that was being openly thrown about in the streets.

If there was one thing Sekh had learned in all his years, from any city- albeit all of them smaller than Baldur’s Gate- was that when night hit, it didn’t matter if the world was ending, so long as there was a strong drink and the prospect of promising company to be had.

He side stepped Lakrissa with a grin as she delivered drinks, her tail flicking at him playfully. He could see Karlach and Wyll, across the tavern, already with drinks in hand. Considering there was no one in their room above when he’d left, he presumed that everyone had already dispersed for a bit of reprieve.

Even if they were trying to fight the gods and avoid turning into mind flayers, they deserved to have a little fun, after all.

Sekh made his way to the bar, was content to wait as Alan dealt with an already overly drunk patron, before he heard someone exclaim, “Well, by Sune’s grace.” The drow glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see a human man shouldering through the crowd, smiling at him. He looked familiar…

The Zhentarim. The color of his armor gave him away.

“Rugan,” he offered, plucking the name from memories that felt like they occurred lifetimes ago. The man grinned at him, this ruggish charm to his face, pleasant lines along his mouth and eyes.

“The fact that you remembered is another blessing.” He leaned up against the bar, dark eyes taking Sekh in in the same way he had, back in the cave mouth after the gnolls, and within the Zhentarim hideout. “I do believe I owe you a long awaited drink.”

At that moment Alan was finally free of the drunken patron, and was more than happy to take Rugan’s order. Sekh didn’t have time to say anything else before the man was holding two glasses and gesturing towards a little table, set slightly away from the chaos. Sekh followed, glancing about the tavern again, caught Karlach’s eye as the tiefling quirked an inquisitive brow.

Sekh shook his head, chasing away whatever sordid little thoughts she was having. He wanted to shout to her about Astarion, but he knew the vampire had slipped away to find himself a meal. Sekh just hoped he would be back soon. Everything still felt fresh, with Cazador newly dead, and a part of him wanted to hover over Astarion like a protective shroud.

He fought that part down, because Astarion needed to know that Sekh trusted him, to make his own decisions, to take care of himself. And he did, he just-

He worried.

He heard a buzzing chuckle in his head, realized Syl was laughing at him and his tumultuous thoughts. He would have told her off, had he not reached the table already. Instead he ignored her, settling down as Rugan offered him the glass.

“Hope you’re a whiskey man,” he offered, and Sekh had to smile.

“My tolerance is shit,” he admitted, lifting the glass, “but shockingly, whiskey treats me better than wine.” Rugan lifted his glass, tipping it towards Sekh.

“I think we should drink to you,” he offered, and before Sekh could protest was tossing back a solid mouthful of the whiskey. Sekh took a solid sip himself, the burn down his throat rather grounding. His mother had always liked whiskey- he had memories of her out drinking his father while attempting to play Sava on many nights. It had always been a fun sight, until they chased him off to bed for a bit of privacy. “Glad to see you here in one piece, Sekh’met.”

Sekh flashed a smile. “Glad to be in one piece. I take it you didn’t have anymore gnoll trouble?”

Rugan chuckled, a shockingly warm sound. “Gods no, thankfully. I’ve seen enough of those flea-ridden beasts to last a lifetime.”

Sekh raised his glass to that. “Agreed.” He took another drink, the burn less intense now, filling his belly with warmth. There was maybe half a mouthful left in his glass, and he tossed it back with ease, noticed Rugan just watching him as he set the glass down. It was the same look he’d had back at the Zhentarim hideout, still. Interest. Of the most definitely carnal kind.

And Sekh was flattered, and maybe once upon a time, if he’d blown into a city and Rugan had looked at him like that, he would have taken him to bed. But now, with his heart so wrapped up in Astarion, his blood singing for the vampire even when he was gone-

And the tangle of thorns that Rolan had now added, to his heart and soul, the tiefling’s kisses still a fresh memory…

“I know that look,” Sekh said, “and I’m flattered, but I’m going to break your heart now, instead of in ten minutes when you ask me to bed.”

Rugan’s brows arched, eyes a little wide- and then he laughed, shaking his head. Laughed at himself, Sekh was sure. “I’m that obvious?”

“You were that obvious when we first met.”

Rugan glanced at his cup, before he tipped his head back, finishing his own whiskey as well. “Shame, I’ve never been with a drow, and you’re…” he shrugged a shoulder.

“Alluring? Heart stopping?” Sekh filled in, grinning like mad. There was a flitting pull, in his mind- Syl getting endless bemusement from this little chat. She did so love when Sekh got cocky.

Rugan snorted, shaking his head. Before he could say anything else, Sekh felt a set of cool fingers tracing up his shoulder, and then Astarion was leaning in, eyes hyper focused on Rugan. “Who is your company, pet?”

Rugan jumped a bit, as if Astarion had simply appeared out of nowhere. “Impressively quiet,” he mused, his eyes locked on the hold Astarion had on Sekh’s shoulder- recognition dawning in his eyes. Sekh would have offered a sheepish smile- but his head was beginning to hurt, with Syl’s presence whipping about, eagerly waiting to see if Astarion would get territorial- she did love a little bloodshed.

And now his tadpole, squirming, as it did every so often. He schooled his face to avoid grimacing, and reached up, covered Astarion’s hand with his own.

“Astarion, you remember Rugan.” He added, softer, “The Zhentarim.”

Astarion continued to stare, his face a cool mask. When he didn’t speak, Rugan did. “With the way you move like a ghost- do you want a job?”

Astarion laughed then- a single, sharp sound. “You couldn’t afford me.”

Rugan was smiling despite it. “The Zhentarim can afford anything. But, I can take your rejection.” The words were spoken to Astarion, even as Rugan looked at Sekh. He stood up then, grabbing his glass. “I think I need another drink. Keep yourself in one piece, Sekh.” He gave them a nod before he slipped away, into the tavern, back towards Alan and the bar.

Sekh glanced up at Astarion, but before he could say more the vampire was hauling him up from his seat, a hand grasping his forearm and all but pulling him through the crowd. Sekh followed quickly, as he was led up the stairs, Astarion all but throwing open the door to their shared sleeping quarters-

And then Sekh, being slammed back against it, so hard his shoulders dug into the wood. Astarion pinned his one arm up over his head, studying him with those red eyes, so alert, a bit of color to his cheeks from having freshly fed. His hold was firm, but not painful. Had a single thing he’d done caused Sekh discomfort, the drow would have spoken up.

“He wanted you.” Astarion said the statement without flourish.

“Yes, he did.” The vampire moved closer, effectively boxing Sekh back against the door. “And I didn’t want him. Do you trust me when I say that?”

Astarion nodded. His eyes weren’t burning with anger or fear, but swarming with this primal, feral need. It left Sekh feeling warm in his belly- and it had nothing to do with the whiskey he’d had.

“And yet, you pulled me up here and have me cornered like I’m prey.” Sekh rolled his hips with the last word, watched Astarion’s eyelids flutter.

“Seeing someone look at you like that.” The vampire leaned in, nosed at Sekh’s jaw, so he could breathe in his pulse. “It makes me feel like a beast.” He squeezed Sekh’s arm, and the drow’s other hand found Astarion’s waist, grasping onto his shirt.

“And what does that beast want?” Sekh whispered. He felt Astarion’s mouth, press to his pulse, tongue flick against his skin, taking a taste. “Does it want to be comforted?” Because if Astarion needed Sekh to hold him and whisper how much he adored him, he would. He understood jealousy- especially when things were still new. When Astarion had only just bared his heart to him.

Astarion shook his head, pressing tighter to Sekh, so he could rut against him. “It wants to devour.”

“Then feast.”

Astarion lifted him then, hoisted him up with a strength that seemed unrestrained suddenly, fueled by a belly full of blood and Cazador’s broken chains. Sekh didn’t argue or fight being tossed over Astarion’s shoulder, the vampire cupping his ass with one hand as the other grasped his thighs, carrying him quickly across the room to their bed. Sekh’s only thought was that he was glad they had the room to themselves- and he hoped everyone would keep themselves busy, for a bit.

Astarion tossed him onto the bed, climbing up over him and ravishing his mouth. The kiss was all teeth and Astarion’s searching tongue, pushing into Sekh’s mouth, tasting of blood still. Sekh growled over it, hands moving for Astarion’s shirt, nearly ripping at the fabric as he tried to shove it up his torso. Astarion had slipped a hand between them, managed to get Sekh’s pants open enough that he could slide right in, hand getting into his underwear and fingers sliding along his lips.

Sekh arched, the single touch sending a tremble through his thighs. Astarion tutted, before he whispered, “Wet, are we?” His fingers pushed past Sekh’s lips, sliding with a slick ease to his entrance and teasing. “What was it? Him?”

Sekh lifted his head, answered with a kiss, pinching Astarion’s lower lip between his teeth. The vampire groaned, a finger slipping into Sekh, as the drow whispered, “you.” 

Astarion pulled his hand from Sekh’s pants, growled out something about needing him naked- honestly, the words were lost on Sekh. He felt blinded by Astarion’s contagious need, was more than happy to rip at clothing and squirm about the bed with him until they were both gloriously naked.

The moment Sekh’s back was flat against the bed again, Astarion was shoving his thighs open, staring down at his cunt with starved eyes. His nails bit into Sekh’s skin as he settled on his belly, wasted no time dragging his tongue up along his slit, gathering all Sekh’s desire on his tongue and swallowing with a smile. Sekh spread his legs wider, swore his hips were going to crack with the effort, as Astarion’s tongue pushed directly to his clit, circling it slowly, as if Sekh needed to be teased.

The drow bucked, and in response Astarion closed his mouth over the heavy bud, suckled at it. Sekh whined, tipped his head back, breathed Astarion’s name-

And felt a warmth, inside his skull. Fuck, Syl was still pulling at their connection, breathing in his pleasure as if it were her own. “Fuck, Astarion- wait.”

The vampire lifted his head, pupils blown from savoring Sekh, staring up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Syl is still… she can-”

Astarion huffed. “Let your little patron watch, my sweet. Let the world watch for all I care.”

And then he lowered his mouth back to Sekh’s cunt, and any protest Sekh had died with the next flick of his tongue. If Astarion didn’t care, he sure as the nine hells didn’t. He rolled his hips up, meeting his lover’s mouth, as Astarion focused that devilish tongue on his clit, flicking it now, over and over again, quickly, so quickly it was driving Sekh’s belly to waves-

Gods he was close.

He reached down, sank his fingers into Astarion’s curls. “Slower,” he managed, and his vampire listened, slowing the movements of his tongue, lingering along the most sensitive spots that he had learned. Sekh groaned, tightened his hold on Astarion’s hair, pulled him closer, felt a heat enveloping him, rising up in his veins. He ground into his lover’s mouth, held Astarion so close he wasn’t even sure how the man managed to move his tongue-

And found his bliss. He came with a grin and Astarion’s name on his lips, could feel the shadows on his face wisping about, extending down his neck, his shoulder, as if he was using his patron’s shadows. His vampling continued those perfect movements of his tongue, until the wave had crested, subsided-

And then he was pushing up onto his knees, grasping Sekh by the hips and studying him, as he left his cock rub against his flushed cunt. “I think she liked that,” Astarion teased, noting the way Sekh’s shadows were moving.

Sekh didn’t bother responding- Astarion was right, after all- and simply let his hips cant, encouraging Astarion to rub his cock against him. “You’re not done with me,” Sekh teased, and Astarion’s only response was to push himself into him in a single, smooth thrust, until he was fully sheathed in Sekh’s body.

Sekh gasped, the sound ending in a guttural growl, as Astarion fucked into him with a pace that was relentless. The vampire was baring his teeth, those glorious fangs, a line of sweat making its way down his throat, eyes wild and rabid. He looked as if he wanted to possess Sekh, starting inside his bones and seeping out until he had every inch of him.

Sekh tried to push back, meeting Astarion’s rhythm. The vampire dropped down over him, caught himself with one hand pressed firmly to the bed, the other grasping Sekh’s chin, forcing his drow to hold his stare.

“You.” He thrust deeper, made Sekh see sparks, in the corners of his vision. “Are.” He gripped harder, nails poking little indents into Sekh’s dark skin. “Mine.”

The kiss he gave Sekh stole his very soul. Sekh reached for him, held on, let Astarion relentlessly take his pleasure from him, wanted nothing more than the be the one to give it to him. When Astarion pulled back, he pushed himself back up to his knees- panting now, cheeks flushed as if he was alive.

Sekh knew the little signs that his lover was close- the subtle grit to his teeth, the darting movements of his eyes. He rolled his hips harder to meet each movement, determined to bring Astarion off- and could only sigh in bliss when he felt Astarion’s first spurt of cum, inside him.

Instead of burrowing deep into Sekh’s body, as he normally would, Astarion pulled almost out as he moaned, reaching down to stroke his shaft with just his head buried in Sekh’s body. Sekh whimpered, could feel his lover’s orgasm more like this.

Astarion pulled out while he was still panting, and Sekh could feel his cum, sliding along his hole, coating him. Astarion smirked, all fang, staring down at his drow’s messy cunt. “What a pretty little mess,” he nearly cooed, taking his fingers and swiping them through his cum. Sekh shivered, the nerves of his cunt still so alive- and then gave a sharp cry, as Astarion pushed those fingers into his body, began fucking his cum back into him. “We’re not done, darling,” he breathed, watching Sekh squirm. “I’m going to make sure that every inch of you smells of me. By the time we’re done, no one will mistake you for being anything other than mine.”

Sekh arched, let his eyes fall shut- couldn’t find a reason or the desire to argue. If anything, he wanted everyone to look at him and know Astarion was there, in his very blood.

He wanted everyone to look at Astarion and know Sekh was there, deep inside his marrow, as well.

[sniickerdoodles]

OC Smash or Pass: Iraeiara

Tagged by: @nyx-knox & @amoremagnificentbastard , thank you both!

Rules: Pretty self explanatory. Include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. The 'Other'-label can be used for ‘sexuality misalignment' (ie: OC is femme and you’re gay, vice versa, or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them, perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc.)

Quick Facts:

Race: Seldarine Drow

Class: Wild Magic Sorcerer / Battle Master Fighter

Height: 5’0”

Age: 31

Gender/ Pronouns: Female, She/Her

Sexuality: TBD....? I'm not entirely sure what she is. Both of her relationships so far have been with men, but it's hard to say for certain lol she's not really the type to "date around" if that makes sense

Oh hoho to try and do this challenge for my emotionally tangled up lil ball of drow. Let's try this... Pros:

Loves to love – Irae is very attentive and dedicates herself to learning and memorizing every detail about her loved ones. She will learn details such as your favorite foods, colors, activities and even the smallest of quirks, and takes great care in mentally updating this list anytime she notices a shift in your preferences. Aside from favorites, she also takes note of any preferences in love language, striving to show affection in the ways which resonate most with those she wishes to love, whether it be through words of affirmation, acts of service, gifts, quality time, or physical touch. She tries to always be aware of how her loved ones like to be comforted and will go out of her way to provide that comfort to you when needed.

Adores giving physical affection – Irae herself loves to express her own love through actions like soft caresses, gentle touches, and warm embraces. She is tender, and loves kissing those close to her either on the forehead or cheek (lips, if you're... extra close of course 👀). She tries to give those around her a steady sense of security and affection, and devotes herself to making her loved ones relax and feel cared for in her presence.

Protective & Loyal – Her loyalty to you will be unwavering once you become part of her 'inner circle'. Irae takes her role as a protector seriously and tries to always look out for the well-being of her friends and family. She will go to great lengths to protect those she loves, and her close ones can always rely on her to be there for them, no matter the situation.

Empathetic and Understanding – Irae always tries to be a comforting presence to those around her, doing her best to lend a sympathetic ear or understand and share the feelings of those she care for. She is reflective, and often contemplates the actions and motivations of her treasured ones, seeking to understand them on a deeper level.

Genuinely sincere – Despite her skills in charm and manipulation Irae never uses these abilities on her loved ones. Instead, she values honesty and openness in her close relationships and is willing to lay down these emotional weapons of hers and bare her soul to those she trusts, showing off her true self to the best of her ability. It is easy for her loved ones to distinguish between the moments when she is playing a role and when she is being her true self which makes building true and meaningful connections easier. There will be no doubt in your mind that what she feels for you is anything but completely and wholly sincere.

Her eyes. Gods, those eyes – No gaze will leave you feeling quite as exposed as Irae's – and yet, despite this – it's a comforting kind of exposure. Instead of being met with judgement, you will only be met with curiosity. She will see you for all that you are without an ounce of punishment, and she will understand you in your entirety, sometimes without you having to say a single word. Your soul will be safe in her tender hands and piercing gaze.

Cons:

Emotionally unavailable / one-sided – Irae is a natural giver, always ready to provide support and affection. With that said, she struggles with being vulnerable enough to let others give to her in return. This might create an emotional wall or a sense of inequality in her close relationships, as she also finds it hard to accept help or comfort from others. You will have to navigate this and teach her that it is okay to be vulnerable.

Non-discriminatory giver of affection – Irae loves to show affection, regardless of whether the recipient is a friend or a lover. This trait of hers is not ideal if you tend to be the jealous type, as her affections are not reserved solely for her romantic partner 👀

Charming and flirtations manipulator – While Irae avoids using her emotional manipulation tactics on those she values, she is well aware of her charm and beauty and has no qualms about using these traits to manipulate strangers. She will flirt to obtain information or favors, and even though the flirting means nothing to her, it is a behavior which again... can be troubling if you happen to have a bit of a jealous streak lol

Lack of self-identity – At the same time as Irae shows great confidence in her skills and abilities, she struggles with having very little sense of who she is as a person. Even something as simple as defining her hobbies prove extremely challenging, and describing herself and understanding what it is others see in her feels nigh impossible. This insecurity sometimes leads to an overprotectiveness of the little self-image she has, which might lead her to lash out if she feels misjudged. She will need significant support from you as she discovers her true self, and will often fall back on unhealthy and learned behaviors during this journey.

Toxic complaisance – In love, Irae can struggle to assert her thoughts and opinions, which stem from her uncertain sense of self and severe abandonment issues. She may choose to stay quiet during disagreements to 'keep the peace' and avoid further conflict, and thus unintentionally engaging in manipulative behavior. This can lead to bigger issues down the line, as unresolved disagreements are left to fester between the two of you.

Anxious at core – Despite often appearing as someone who is assertive, self-assured, and resistant to stress, Irae is deeply anxious at her core. She can be very self-conscious, and is also success-driven, perfectionistic, and eager to improve, traits which can overwhelm her in times of high stress. Her difficulty in opening up serve to further complicate matters, as these issues of hers sometimes create an unintentional disconnect between her and those who wants to care about her, including you. It may be hard to understand what goes on in that head of hers, and this may lead to reactions which can come off as unexpected.

Emotional withdrawal – When extremely distressed, Irae shuts down completely, and may even run away from the source of her upset. It can take her hours or even days to calm down. And in a fit of vindictiveness, she may chose to hide from the person who upset her, preventing them from apologizing and prolonging the conflict until she is ready to address it. This behavior also stems from her abandonment issues, as she feels like she is preventing what she believes is an inevitable end of your relationship by simply prolonging the much needed discussion. This is of course not a healthy way to cope, and she will need you to be patient as she works on finding healthier ways to calm down after a nasty argument.

Tagging (no pressure and sorry for any repeats!): 🏷️ @locallegume @pinkberrytea @shinyredgloss (Ash! :D) @bardic-inspo and anyone else who sees this and feels like participating, tag me if you do! I'd love to see <3

Lastly, I do not blame anyone for picking 'pass', Irae is a mess 💀 but I love her to death

[theladyregret]

I've seen you make commets concerning Drow skin color here and also in the authors notes of your fics. Could you go into it more? I find it a lot more interesting then what a lot of people insist on doing. Also how do you balance it with in game racial lore or do you just dismiss it completely?

God, I love asks like these.

I'm pretty sure I've already gone into it somewhere on my blog but it was in response to an angry ask so likely something people would skip over because...drama. Which is of course totally valid but I'm glad I get to go into it again in response to a nice ask instead.

I'll start with the lore question which honestly isn't very complicated in it's solution. You can choose whatever lore you like for your preference and you really don't have to change anything. All you have to do is sweep it into the nice neat corner of "creationist myth" or "religious propaganda". That is to say that these things are not meant to be historically accurate or factual retellings. Hell, they could just be outright lies depending. Even goodly folk and religions with goodly deities can have these things and followers who take it as fact and it doesn't make them bad people necessarily. Ignorant maybe? Bad...it depends on how they go about it once being faced with the truth.

So when lore says "Drow have dark skin to show everyone else that they are evil and they were banished to the depths of the Underdark as a punishment" that is just something someone decided was true...but really isn't, but people certainly may believe it is. Just as the Drow are taught that they were forced underground by the evil surface races and that Lloth is their sole protector and they are the only goodly people in the world. It's not true...but some of them certainly believe that it is.

The key is to remove the idea of black and white in terms of what is good and what is evil and whether both can exist within every race regardless of stereotyping. No race is inherently one thing or the other regardless of cultural norms or upbringing. Every race is capable of evil and good. Period. Anything that says otherwise is a myth people may have been taught and may believe is true even though it isn't.

As for the skin tone thing. I have always been a big promoter of the fact that magic existing in a world does not mean science does not. So...even if it is a fantasy world with magic...genetics still exist. Evolution and adaptation still exists. Not everything is just magic. I'm also completely against the idea of locking races that aren't human into set ethnicities. Every race should be capable of having varied ethnic features based on where they are native to and I don't mean subraces either. So...if humans in a certain area have certain ethnic features like darker skin and hair, hair texture, certain facial features...that should equally apply to all other races that also come from that area in addition to their racial features. So a gold elf can have dark skin, darker hair, broader or narrower facial features because they come from a warmer region...and still be gold elves. Same for a wood elf, or an orc, or a halfling, or a gnome etc

Applying this to Drow is a bit different only because the Underdark is a fantasy construction but largely they can have the same differing in ethnic features but also...it's always been my belief that their dark skin tone (which tends to be more purple or blue toned rather then orange) is the result of an adaptation to the Faerzress radiation. This also explains why other Underdark races also have this adaptation...even the goodly races. And why do they have white or extremely pale hair in contrast to their skin? Because the adaptation that makes their skin dark is not the same as melanin and is not designed to protect against UV light but a completely different type of energy. As a result their hair doesn't have melanin and likely their skin would be sensitive to sunlight similarly to how people with low or no melanin would despite being so dark. If a Drow has darker colored hair...or red hair, this could either be a left over recessive gene or a gene mutation. Still possible just not common.

This can also explain why red eyes are so common as well because low or no melanin levels can make eyes appear pale blue, pink, red, or pale purple as well as not being able to filter glare from light well (among other things but I'm not going into all of that here). Humans don't typically have red eyes with albinism but you can bend those rules for the fact they're elves and not humans. Just like with the hair color it's also just as possible for some of them to inherit a recessive gene that puts more melanin in their eyes giving them an unexpected color or higher tolerance to light. (this could explain Drizzt's eye color certainly but I actually think that's a whole different thing which I have also talked about before in another post and won't go into here)

So yeah, this is generally how I feel about the whole thing and have for a very long time...and honestly...solves a lot of recent issues people have with it all, I think anyway.

[andauril]

Get to know: Silaestra

stealing this format from @shewhowas39 Name: Silaestra

Pronouns: she/her

Age: ca. 138 years

Race: High Elf (Moon Elf), Bhaalspawn

Class: Sorcerer (Storm Sorcerer), with a few levels of Wizard (Bladesinging)

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral, which starts to shift more and more strongly towards Chaotic Good by the end of the game

Highest Stat: Charisma (followed by Intelligence)

Lowest Stat: Strength (she's quite nimble and tougher than she looks but doesn't have a lot of raw strength)

Love Interest: Astarion

Best Friend(s): Shadowheart, Wyll & Jaheira

Height: 5'7'' (ca. 170 cm)

Body Type: Silaestra is slender, somewhat athletic, with decently toned, lean muscles especially on her legs and stomach

Skin: very pale, with a purple-ish undertone

Hair: butt long, very deep black, thick and wavy, and always very well taken care off

Eyes: somewhat almost shaped, sea green, somewhat cat-like, slightly slanted

Other Notable Appearance Details: she has pale-red vine-like tattoos that frame her face and brow and continue down her neck and down to her shoulders, and tends to wear dark make up

Favorite Color: deep blues, indigos and silver

Greatest Passion: studying the arcane (her magic keeps her grounded), creative pursuits (she is quite talented at drawing)

Biggest Fear: completely loosing herself to her dark urges and bloodlust, becoming a mindless monster that kills without any rhyme or reason that only lives to kill ... aka the worst Dark Urge ending is pretty much her biggest fear come true

Some Random Facts:

She was carved from Bhaal's flesh as a fetus and magically implanted into the womb of an elven woman who just in that moment prayed to every god who would hear her to grant her her dearest wish. She didn't know her miracle baby would be the death of both her and her partner.

Silaestra's modus operandi as a killer was to lure people in with her charms and her beauty, only to kill them once they lowered their guard around and were alone with her.

Bhaal has forced her to kill her loved ones in the past - it was what he would usually demand of her whenever she got too close to someone. For example, she was forced to murder her first love, a drow priestess of Eilistraee. She was only ~ 20 at the time ...

She studied the bladesong in part to connect with a part of her heritage that wasn't connected to Bhaal, trying to carve out an identity for herself that wasn't tied to him. Bhaal did not approve.

She has a good singing voice, but rarely actually sings, and she's terrible at playing any instrument you give her.

Also a terrible cook.

Terrible at sewing too. She would seriously suck so bad in the role of a House Wife. It's a good thing she has no plans of being one.

Becomes somewhat of a mentor to Arabella during the time she spends at camp, teaching her how to control her magic.

She doesn't remember her last name and never learns it either. The graves of her surrogate family were vandalised with their last name's no longer legible ...

[soufre-de-paris]

i was tagged by @lowgardn for a getting-to-know-you meme! and now i have the spoons/energy/time to finalize! :>

last song: last song i myself chose to listen to was still taca a xereca pra mim by mc kaique but A was loudly playing lady gaga's telephone yesterday as some sort of homage to their feelings of being freed of the necessity of having a cell phone by having had it stolen

favorite color: in which i am true to my brand™. i genuinely love soft pastels pink (up until i remember they have been so inextricably linked to gender, and then i remember gender exists, and then i'm sad) yay! pink!! keep in mind i have chosen pink bc i don't think "oil slick plastic" counts as a color.

currently watching: A and i are watching the original star trek series, because they have never seen it, and it's been excellent but also Does Not Hold Up Well when it comes to gender relations. amazing that they could conceive of aliens and humans living side by side (with some issues, of course) and deep space exploration in a post-fucking-capitalist society, but not that Women Are People. but it's also some of the best television i've ever seen, so like, wtf. i am considering watching good omens by myself during my sabbatical but we will see.

last movie/tv show: barbie. too many thoughts. before that, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... probably shin ultraman???? which was so fucking great, god, hideaki anno!!

sweet/spicy/savory: what about… all of them… at once… yes, yes, this is Ideal

relationship status: i have a partner and a girlfriend and other untitled attachments. i routinely forget i am poly bc i am not actively looking to date anyone new. lately i've been really enjoying thinking about my polycule as a series of underground wires, and the connections between people who have never met and never will have chance to meet, but who are inextricably linked through the connections they form. my partner's girlfriend and my girlfriend's boyfriend have a zero possibility of ever meeting, but who can claim their lives and choices don't influence each other? furthermore, (picture me being dragged offstage by a sheep hook as i start to rant about compersion, arete, and social responsibility)

current obsessions: bg3/DROW FACTS (obviously) and the canon time-travel d.a.i fic i'm still spinning around in my head to nintendo wii sounds. and now that i'm home and our apartment is almost ready, i can start thinking about working on my own writing again… and 「glass」 is due a draft revision…

last thing you googled: colorpicker (for the image of pink above) and dumb phone with gps (for A)

tagging @maeaneke (i don't know your favorite color????) @k0gaball @the-local-gremlin @gomjabbars @thesandsofelsweyr and @birenza, no pressure!

[alcowarlock]

Also I made a new OC almost few months ago, but I was too lazy to make together his bio...

Fathomless warlock, Lancaeron Oblodra, ~298 y.o.

He's the one from a few alive Oblodra. He's never been even a little popular in the family, and never been on records or portraits. He preferred knowledge that awaited him in books more than a high life's leisures. Amusement with blood had only a pure scientific interest. Even he could easily kill anyone for a sample. He'd fled from a family regarding being inconspicuous, so no one bothered to look for him, leaving fugitive for Lady of Spiders to take care of abomination. But even gods doesn't care, so he's got to the surface to explore and search more knowledge. Despite his noble origin, his life were more close to urchin, granting new skills to get anything he desired with any cost – cunning itimidation, skillful thievery and calculating murder.

After his arrival to the surface, his sight took a damage – iris became almost achromatic. So his belonging to the drow determines only the bluish skin and white brows and lashes. His hair were always black, although, and it's always wondered him. Maybe some ancestors sinned with another race… But he was too lazy to dug into this. His interest were gripped by books and blood studying. His thirst for knowledge and power guided him to the patronage of Aboleth and made him a fathomless warlock. Scales appeared unintentionally, but he liked it. He's able to change its color with magic. Considering Aboleth pantheon, he's very open to illithids and mind-reading.

In his trip on Nauriloid he met inadequate lady covered in blood, and also half-done vampire after the crash. He was very fine with such company, he's quickly became friendly with Astarion and watching him dealing with dark urge girl like a show. Of course listening complaining and revelations from the both sides.

His alignment is chaotic aggression. His appointment with sister naturally gone awry and, after she tried to pressure Astarion, he coldly killed her without any thoughts.

His sense of humor completly black; he retained aristocratic habits in the form of frivolous arrogance and selectivity in alcohol and clothes, although his lifestyle of urchin last hundred years. He carefully hid but to dare to go down to the Underdark, it took a lot of time to gather his balls. He do not accept losses or disagreement with him, that's why he'll bite frist or just kill the obstacle. Despite him being a fathomless warlock, he's terribly scared of fathom in open sea and giant underwater animals and fish… Even considering he literally had to drown for his new power and knowledge.

After realizing that Astarion is not considering him as a possible lover, he'd took note on Shadowheart, although he's seeing her very sceptical and not approving her penchant for experimentation in sex, so he's not considering it something serious.

He is grim and gloomy, but in fact he quickly fits into any company and, due to his erudition, is able to support almost any conversation. He's so incredibly lazy, that he's summoning spectral tentacle to bring him wine. He's very skillful with daggers and one-handed weapon, and good at archery. He can play the cello, although he's not have chances to practice now. It flatters when someone calls him "Lance" – not relative to his name, but to weapon: tall and slender, as a spear.

He had Oblodra's House tattoo on the left side of his neck, but some very drunk evening he'd grown strenght to burn it out. Of course, he doesn't like that new mark and never ties his hair.

[the-interplay-of-sex-and-violins]

Drow Eyes: How Do They Work

Or rather, "I write up a big old headcanon post explaining how I imagine drow eye color works in BG3".

This is mostly for my own benefit/archival purposes, but for anyone else who stumbles over this, DISCLAIMER:

This is all headcanon and mostly based on the lore presented in BG3, with some taken from other places that I definitely do not remember specific sources for. I am by no means anything resembling an expert, etc. Take whatever bullshit I say with a grain of salt, because I'm just writing HCs for my own amusement, not conducting a study.

Now that said: drow eyes (mostly color): how do they work.

As presented in BG3, drow can be broadly grouped into two categories: Lolth-sworn (still under Lolth's influence, mostly born into it) and Seldarine (outside of Lolth's influence, mostly worshiping Seldarine gods instead, a mix of converts and born into it).

This doesn't really allow for much space in-between--drow not beholden to Lolth, but not worshiping Seldarine gods either--and I figure how those drow identify is largely individual choice and not entirely clear to anyone. (Kelyn falls into this group: in game terms, he's Lolth-sworn by default because he has little faith in gods and no loyalty or interest in the Seldarine ones, but he's also not beholden to Lolth and only ever worshiped her because it was how he was raised. In reality, he's not really either group.)

That said, there's not much visual difference in the two subgroups of drow, but there is one: eye color.

Lolth-sworn drow nearly always have a shade of red eyes, essentially because Lolth though it was badass and scary. That said, in-game they CAN choose non-red eye colors without going into the "cheaty" options of enabling every eye color, with the choices being primarily purples, black, and white.

Seldarine drow eye color isn't specifically mentioned, but a dialogue option implies they DON'T have red eyes, despite having complete freedom to pick red eyes in the character creator by default. They also have different eye color options available than Lolth-sworn drow: some blues along with the other colors, and in fact a Seldarine drow defaults to light blue eyes IIRC.

Presumably, a number of Seldarine drow are going to be converts--former Lolth-sworn who have turned their back on their goddess. (Especially since Eilistraee specifically tries to turn drow away from her mother, and her followers make efforts to recruit other drow to this end.) Since there's no indication drow eye color can change to display their loyalty, one assumes converted ex-Lolth-sworn retain their red eyes. (Additionally, Drizzt is famously known for his non-red eyes...despite essentially being Lolth-sworn by default at the beginning. Plus I think there's some mention of other drow with eyes that aren't red, but I can't speak to that and I'm unsure if it's something that's retconned by now.)

So all that said, here's how I think drow eye color works, to make all the above generally gel with former drow eye color lore.

Lolth-sworn drow are nearly always born with red eyes, but rarely can exhibit other colors: violet shades are most common, along with black and white. (Also pinks, but those are arguably just a type of red.)

Drow born outside Lolth's influence are far more likely to have other eye colors, mostly blues/purples/pinks (noticeably paler than Lolth-sworn pinks), along with black/white. Seldarine converts keep their red eyes, but their children are unlikely to inherit them--within about two generations, natural red eyes are usually bred out of non-Lolth-sworn drow.

Greens and golds are EXTREMELY rare natural eye colors for drow, but do pop up: most likely, this indicates a degree of surface elf heritage. (It can also come from humans, but is far more likely to come from elves.) Obviously it's a bit more common in communities of surface drow, but does show up in places like Menzoberranzan, likely due to a situation like Halsin's where the surface elf ancestor was an unwilling participant. It's not well-known in Menzoberranzan that gold/green eyes indicate mixed bloodlines: any child born of such couplings could likely pass as a purebred drow with a little effort (especially if they got lucky and inherited drow-appropriate skin/hair color), and has heavy social pressure to do so, and over time the genetics mix back into the general drow population with nobody any wiser, and periodically pop back up again.

(This is why green/gold eyes usually come from surface elves and not humans or anything else: a drow/elf child is most likely to pass as a purebred drow, whereas any other ancestry would probably lead to a child who is visibly not pure drow, and thus extremely likely to be culled or at least not easily pass on their eye color, if they survive to adulthood.)

Reaction to non-red eye colors in Menzoberranzan is mixed: a fair few drow consider them extremely exotic and sexy (as implied by Drizzt's eyes) and may actively seek out drow with non-red eyes. Then there's also the highly paranoid and extremely devout drow who might consider non-red eyes to be indicative of Lolth's disfavor, and all the fun that comes with that. It's very much a personal thing with no particular culture-wide reaction.

Amusingly, to some degree the reverse is true in communities of surface drow: red eyes aren't entirely unusual given the number of ex-Lolth-sworn, but some surface drow definitely find them sexy in a "ooo scary bad boy/girl" sort of way, while others are naturally wary of red-eyed drow before they know their loyalties.

In either case, in broad terms a drow standing out in their group for their eye color has a few likely options:

Treated with suspicion

Outright killed (primarily this is a problem for Lolth-sworn drow, not Seldarine ones)

Fetishized

So, you know, pick your poison. Strong reactions are more likely in Menzoberranzan (where any perceived flaw is dangerous to have, and everyone is pretty much highly aggressive about everything) as opposed to on the surface; surface drow communities have more variation and are generally going to be less militant, and they also usually deal with other types of people a lot more. Like, is it REALLY all that important that your neighbor has red eyes when your other neighbors are a halfling and a dragon man?

Eilistraeen drow are the most likely to ignore red eyes (either as an indication of loyalty OR as a trait of note; they just don't really care at all), given a lot of their number are converts (so red eyes are relatively common among them) and accepting any drow wanting to turn away from Lolth and her ilk is kind of their thing. Non-Lolth-sworn drow of other/no faith might be more inclined to treat red-eyed drow with suspicion, since after all they bear Lolth's mark; but these drow are also much fewer and far between, too.

In addition to this, I saw mention (somewhere, once...) about drow eyes "turning yellow" if the drow is ill or poisoned: I'm taking this to mean they get visibly jaundiced, and possibly the irises pale a bit to a distinctly more yellow tone of their usual shade. For funsies!

[eric-the-bmo]

im once again going insane over Apollo let me talk about some fun details in his story here:

Apollo’s kept his hair short ever since he got to the City. Once he breaks free, he slowly starts to grow it out again.

The name he calls the dagger he got from Alston is one of the nicknames he used to call the wizard (nickname pending bc i need to change it

He also carries around a pack of cards, which were actually the same ones he and Alston were playing with when they made the promise to dance together once the war was over.

Silvidahl uses “we” and “us” in reference to itself not only to emulate being the Choir (that’s a lore thing), but also because in the past, the royal we pronouns essentially mean “God and I,” and, well, since it views itself as God,,,

Whenever he casts Eldritch Blast, he does that hand thing Catholics do, drawing the image of a cross over his chest (bc he’s essentially a Fantasy Catholic)

He stands up so straight (like a soldier), but I imagine after he starts to slip free of the thrall he starts to be a bit more relaxed with how he stands

Apollo has a habit of holding his hands together, whether to comfort himself or whenever the urge to do so happens; it’s absolutely because he and Alston held hands a lot and I’m so normal about that.

His cape was a gift from Silvidahl (probably the only gift he’s ever gotten from it)

Despite the fact he views his turning process as a good thing, he still panics a bit whenever he gets reminded of The Room

Creationally, Apollo’s name comes from worldbuilding I have never used. In a discarded story setting, there were a group of elves trapped in the underdark. they eventually became drow, and in rememberance to the Surface, they would name their children after things from there; hence the name Apollo.

Since he had always started with that name, I had to work backwards to figure out why he was called that.

At first i imagined his voice to be lighter, but it slowly changed to be a deep British voice

When he goes to the Surface for the first time in ages, he sees a sunrise. This symbolizes a new chapter of his story and new beginnings, and also he’s named after the god of the sun and dawn. I’m also so insane about this detail but im keeping it under wraps here

Apollo is associated with the Purple Hyacinth

Originally, this was meant to be a fun nod towards the Greek myth of Apollo and Hyacinthus, but given how Hyacinthus later became his old name, it adds a lot more meaning.

I made it purple specifically to match his color palette, but then I found out purple hyacinths represent deep sorrow and guilt, and I went insane

Apollo’s sword is named Iscariot, which is a direct call to Judas of Iscariot- we love foreshadowing the fact he’ll betray his friends and the ones he loves, let’s go

He has a tattoo/brand written in Qualith [the written language of the illithids] on his arm

I’ve created a kin list for this man

ive forgotten if there’s more details but yeah that’s all for now bye

[midnight-wolf2311]

Meet The Characters!

Decided to do this just because I can. This will be a list of a bunch of the characters I'll be using. No canon characters of course, just my own ocs. Little to no information on them other than small things. Most of my characters are actually BG3 originated, but moved to my stories and added to Sleep Token stuff.

Also as far as I know everyone has their own interpretation of Sleep Token lore. Anything I say about it is my interpretation. So please do not come after my ass if something isn't how you think, or to your own interpretation.

First up is Kesariya Auvrea! She is a drow assassin. Originated as a BG3 oc and ended up in my story. She is a lesbian and has two adopted children. She will only likely be seen in BG3 stories, as I have no use for her in Sleep Token things. She may be mentioned though, not sure yet.

Art is made by one of my lovely friends, as I cannot draw for shit. She is literally the only one with actual art, everyone else was made on BG3.

Our second lovely character is Skie Kingsown. My silly tiefling bard. He is Kesariya's best friend and he's gay. He too started as a BG3 oc, in fact his only purpose had been to be my character to romance Gale. He too made it into my story when Kesariya did. He babysits Kesariya's children. He will also likely only be seen for BG3 things, aside from mentions in the ST stuff.

I am so in love with his design, I have been since the day I made him.

My third little shit is Persephone Ravenstone! My tiefling vampire. She is friends with Kesariya and Skie as well. And she is Kesariya's ex girlfriend. She is both a ST and BG3 oc. As when I made her lore it was only for roleplay stuff, so I just kinda put the worlds together in a small way.

Due to mods I gave her Orin's hair and just changed the color. So she has a really long braid, but that little headpiece isn't really there in reality. But I can't remove it. And since she belongs in the ST world as well, the runes on her face look different and mean something.

My fourth character is Vaelen Darkstryder! He is also both BG3 and ST. He is also an ex drug addict. But for some stories I may make it to where he is still one. If and when I do that, forgive me if he act nothing like he's on drugs. I have never used them nor never seen anyone use them.

Yes I know he doesn't look like he should belong in the whole ST world. I realized that only after I finished his design. But he's so pretty. And yes I realize he looks like a woman slightly, leave me alone.

And finally, we have Asher De Luca. God damn this poor man is a mess. I've put him through so many different worlds it's not even funny anymore. He doesn't really belong in BG3 or ST. But I will likely use him for both occasionally.

I like to call him cotton candy hair because it's dyed pink and blue. Both colors are usually more vibrant, but when I made him in BG3 I thought "huh, let's make him look like an actual adventure and have the dye fading" so I put graying on and made it his natural brown hair, therefor dulling the colors.

That is all! Thank you to anyone who actually read and looked at all of these. I keep thinking I'm doing this for no reason, aside for only myself.

[theladyregret]

god, I'm sick of the new depictions of Drow skin being just...pale grey, but Drizzt in particular bugs me because he is repeatedly described as having BLACK skin.

Removing skin color is not better than implying that dark skin makes one evil. In fact it's pretty much the same because you're pretty much confirming that you think it's the skin color that is the problem.

WHY IS HIS SKIN LIGHTER THAN HIS VIOLET EYES!!! its as light as his white hair!!

[littlemourningstarr]

Complex

Vette doesn't have enough words for what Gale is, to him. Mentor, lover, friend. And somehow, the only one to leave him comfortable enough to explore his own boundaries.

Kinktober 2024, Day 8: "Rimming / Ass Worship"

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Gale x Original Male Character

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Rimming, hands free orgasm, first time, kinktober, kinktober 2024

Gale’s bed was so soft, beneath Vette’s bare legs. Or, their bed? Could he consider it theirs? He hadn’t slept in his former room once, since first climbing into Gale’s bed- in fact, it had turned into nothing but his own study. Hells, Gale had even mentioned moving the bed from the room so he could have more space to work.

So, theirs.

Gale pressed a kiss to Vette’s throat, his beard tickling the sensitive skin. “You look as if you’re leagues away,” he whispered, one of his hands pushing under the open shirt Vette had taken from his wizard, sliding along his chest, palm grazing his nipple for a far too brief second.

Vette swallowed, tried to keep himself from bucking up into his wizard, mentor, lover- whatever Gale was. He felt like there were a thousand things he was, and yet none of them fit perfectly. Gale was too complex, too faceted, for just one label.

“I’m here,” Vette whispered, “promise.” Gale lifted his head, leaned over him to kiss him softly. The sorcerer melted into it, got his arms up around Gale’s neck, hands gently grasping at his bare back. He arched up against him, managed to feel the shape of Gale’s cock through his silken sleep pants. Gods, he never got sick of that.

He teased at Gale’s lips with his tongue, but before he could push in, feel the man’s rumbling groans against him, Gale was pulling back, studying him. For a moment Vette lay there, before he arched a pale brow. “Looking for something?”

Gale hesitated- something he hadn’t done in bed with Vette in the weeks since Vette had first crawled in with him. And oh, did that have the half-drow curious

After a moment, Gale offered, “I’d like to try something.”

Vette hummed. “Color me curious.” He continued running his hands along Gale’s shoulders, his upper back.

“But,” Gale started, reaching between them, sliding a hand beneath Vette’s ass, “it involves me touching you here.” Vette bit at his lip at the feeling of Gale’s hand, pushing up against his ass. “So if you’re not interested, please tell me.”

Vette worried at his lip. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. He’d meant what he told Gale, so many nights ago, when he’d crawled into this bed for the first time- he wanted to let the wizard have him, in every way he could. Every inch of skin, every bit of sinew and bone. He wanted Gale buried in his soul.

And he didn’t want to be scared. Of anything.

He gave a small nod, and Gale leaned down, kissed his forehead, lips pressing to a patch of red scales that he kissed every morning, when the wizard first awoke. The tenderness now flooded Vette’s belly with warmth. “If you don’t like anything I do, tell me. I’ll-”

“Stop before I can even finish my words, I know. I trust you Gale.” And then softer, fingers playing with the ends of his wizard’s hair, “I trust you.”

Gale smiled at him, pecked his lips, before he crawled off of Vette. “Would you take these off?” he asked, plucking at the waistband of Vette’s underwear. Vette smirked, climbed from the bed and turned away from Gale, sliding his underwear down his thighs, so that just Gale’s shirt covered the swell of his ass, dusted the tops of his thighs. He heard the wizard groan, and glanced over his shoulder, through his free stray blond hair. “Just those?”

Gale managed to shake his head, and Vette let the silken shirt slide off his shoulders and arms, flutter to the ground to pool at his feet. He heard the bed creek, and then Gale was on his knees behind him, kissing at a bare shoulder. Vette tipped his head back slightly, sighed, smiled to himself, felt his wizard’s arms encircling his waist.

“You’re already distracting me,” he chided, and Vette positively grinned.

“It’s what I do best.”

Gale placed another lingering kiss to his shoulder, before he moved back, patted the bed as Vette turned around. “On your belly, if you don’t mind. Oh, make sure you’re comfortable. More pillows? Less?” Gale was fretting with the current pile and Vette had to laugh.

“Gale.” The wizard paused, and Vette climbed onto the bed, flopping down onto his belly and pointedly grabbing one of Gale’s pillows, burying his face in it, mumbling, “stop rambling.”

A request Vette didn’t often make.

“Right. Of course.” Vette felt his hand, running along his spine, over the red and what Vette realized were gold scales that laced down to his lower back. He felt Gale shifting, the man spreading his thighs, coaching him up onto his knees. Vette dug his knees into the soft mattress, felt so exposed in this position that he flushed, rubbing his cheek along Gale’s pillow.

Which was ridiculous, he’d been on his knees, face down for men before. But never for Gale- and never with the expectation that whatever was going to happen was  going to feel good.

He felt Gale’s hands running up along his ass, kneading the flesh- not a new sensation, and one he could relax into. But when he felt Gale parting that flesh, he was left wondering for a moment what the man was planning- he hadn’t seen him pull out any oil, and both hands were still grasping his ass-

He gave a sharp, surprised cry at the first touch of Gale’s tongue. It flicked up over his asshole, had Vette going tense, for a single moment body unsure how to react. But then it passed over it again, Gale pressing closer, and Vette felt a wave of heat raking up his spine.

Oh.

“Gale,” he managed, cheek pressed into his lover’s pillow. No one had- not ever- not like-

Oh.

Vette trembled, as Gale’s tongue worked over him, lapping eagerly. His beard rubbed against his asscheeks, but Vette found he liked the friction- it was a perfect contrast to the way Gale’s tongue was giving him nothing but bliss. His nerves felt like they were burning, sending a warm tingle up along his spine, but also radiating a heat out through his pelvis, so that it shot through his cock like a hellflame.

Vette bit at his cheek, felt his cock throbbing, precum dripping down onto the bed as Gale circled his asshole with his far too clever tongue. Gods, when had he gotten this hard? Sure, he’d been hard with Gale teasing him, but-

He swore he was steel, beneath his silken skin.

“Hnn, fuck,” he managed, as he tried to roll his hips back, get closer to Gale’s mouth. His wizard kneaded his ass, before he pulled the supple flesh open wider- and gods, his tongue pushed just inside, had Vette crying out loudly, trembling. It was just enough penetration that his mind didn’t even register it as that- it was just wet heat and a light to all those nerves that he had never once been properly pleasured.

He rocked his hips slightly, cock bobbing, hanging heavy and almost aching from the lack of contact. He could feel saliva dripping down him, but the wet feeling made him feel delightfully filthy, just on the right side of wrong.

Gale pulled back- much to Vette’s dismay- only to exhale against him, breath a warm puff of air against his muscle. Vette shivered again as Gale asked, his voice far too husky, “Alright?”

Vette nodded, cheek rubbing along Gale’s pillow, before he realized the man couldn’t see the action. “Y-yeah,” he managed, words breathy. He felt Gale press a gentle kiss to one ass cheek, so tender it made his heart swell in his ribs. “Fuck, Gale, don’t- don’t stop.”

That earned him a bemused little chuckle. “Whatever the princess desires,” he mumbled, and Vette’s cheeks went scarlet.

“I’m not- oh fuck!” His thoughts broke off as Gale’s tongue laved over him again, heavy laps that had him squirming. His mind buzzed as all thought died, and gods be damned alright, if Gale wanted him to be his princess then by the nine hells he would be-

Gale speared his tongue into Vette again, left the sorcerer gasping and whining, writhing eagerly, desperately beneath his hands. Gale pulled him back against his mouth as he tried to cant his hips into nothing, a thick line of precum now connecting his cockhead to the sheets. Gale groaned against him, this rumble from the man’s chest, and Vette lost himself then, a warm wave clawing up his spine, grasping at the back of his skull and suffocating all thought, all reason.

He came, cock completely untouched, spilling thick, pearly seed all over the sheets. His cock bobbed with each spurt of cum, the corners of Vette’s eyes suddenly wet as he sobbed at his release. Gods it was all so good, Gale was still licking him, pushing in with his tongue, working those nerves until it was almost too much-

When Gale finally pulled back, Vette’s legs trembled before they gave out. He collapsed into the sheets, into his own mess, as Gale crawled along his side, reached for his face and angled it up from his pillow. For a moment Gale’s rather smug look turned to apprehension- and Vette realized it wasn’t just the corners of his eyes that were wet, but his lashes, his cheeks- he had even left a few wet tear stains on Gale’s pillow.

“Vette-”

“I’m alright.” Vette tried to take a breath, before he rolled onto his back, reached up for Gale. He hauled the wizard over him, didn’t mind when Gale’s weight pressed into him, pinned him down to the bed, as he got his hands tangled in his wizard’s hair, seeking out his mouth eagerly. He kissed Gale like he was opening his very soul for the sun, eager and desperate and wanton and so loving.

Gale sighed against him, pulled back when Vette’s hold loosened just enough. “So…” Gale started, and Vette offered him a blissed out smile.

“So?”

“Was it… alright?”

Vette snorted, still toying with Gale’s hair. “Alright is a choice word, Gale. You can,” Vette paused, cleared his throat, “see for yourself.”

Gale glanced down, could easily see the mess along Vette’s belly, from where he had collapsed into his own cum. And when he glanced back at Vette, his eyes were that all encompassing blackfire that made Vette tremble as if he was staring into the maw of a dragon.

And oh, how he wanted to be devoured.

[qm-vox]

So You Want To Play A Fairest

(Portrait of Erin Peters by cantankerousAquarius. The character originally appeared in Night Horrors: Grim Fears, published by White Wolf; catch my take on her in New Avalon)

Previous Articles: So You Want To Play A Beast, So You Want To Play A Wizened, So You Want To Play An Elemental, So You Want To Play An Ogre, & So You Want To Play A Darkling

You ever wonder, flipping through a Monster Manual for D&D, or a Bestiary for Pathfinder, why nymphs and hags are both always, always, women? It’s older than you know. Dig into the sordid history of tabletops and you’ll find sylphs that Gary Gygax wrote, Chaotic charmers who use mind control to reproduce with non-sylph men; you’ll find the legacy of the matriarchal drow, who follow a mad goddess, and you’ll find the medusae, whose sexual dimorphism is so complete that their men are beautiful and can turn stone into people.

Dredge deeper and you’ll find the tales that Gygax and his wretched ilk based such creatures off of.

You ever wonder why we assign such powerful Gender to creatures of beauty and horror?

Fairest don’t. They know, every time they wake up from a nightmare that is also a wet dream. They know, every time they get hit on at the bar and have to decide how they’re playing this. They know, every time they look in a mirror and see not their own face, but the ten thousand horrors that made it beautiful.

If you are very patient, and lucky, and kind, they might tell you why.

If you aren’t, they may show you.

This article draws primarily on Changeling: the Lost and Winter Masques, as well as Swords at Dawn and Night Horrors: Grim Fears. Other sources, when used, will be cited. It requires Content Warnings for sexual violence, sexual slavery, abuse, gaslighting, addiction, substance abuse, self-harm, self-image problems, mentions of fascists & fascist ideology, and just, so very much incel bullshit.

Bonus Material Part Two: The Seeming Part

The end of this article, just past the customary Sample Fairest, will include some additional material intended to help you select a Seeming for your character and otherwise build them up as one of the Lost, much as So You Want To Run A Spring Court included material for Courts as a topic.

Take Me To Wonderland - Fairest Overview

Fairest is the fourth Seeming presented in Changeling: the Lost and possibly the most confused about its own identity. Its sections in Winter Masques present depths and nuance that are completely absent in core, essentially making Winter Masques required reading for Fairest players in a way that no other book is - especially since Fairest keep getting written in a particular way alluded to in the Ogre article, which I will expand on later in this article. Fairest is numerically well-represented in canon and popular in the fanbase, home to many memorable character concepts, but its bones with folklore and tradition are weaker than it fronts as.

Ogres and Darklings claim an innate relationship to physical violence; so too do the Fairest claim a relationship to violence. The violence of Perception and its dark twin, Judgement; of Rumor and its mad dog, Prejudice, the violence of Lies and their merciless master, Truth. Fairest, alone among the Lost, have casual access to the resources of a society that refuses to service or acknowledge Changelings, and with access to that society comes both opportunity and temptation. To be Fairest is to wield power that many other Lost cannot, but the opportunity that power offers is a lie; a Fairest can smile until her face breaks like a mirror, but she’ll never be “sane” enough for the masses to see her as anything but a useful pet.

Life’s Lush Lips - Homecoming As A Fairest

Fairest can make the dubious claim of having the least clear memories of Arcadia amongst all the Lost, with Darklings and Beasts jockeying for second place. This isn’t to say that the experiences Fairest have are necessarily more intense or more inherently traumatic than that of other Lost, but rather that the abuse Fairest suffer is so emotional, so targeted at their perception of their selves and their situations and their self-image, that the memories which do form are inevitably colored by those emotions, coloring the dreams they have of Arcadia with both the emotional resonances they had at the time and with their later attempts to grapple with their own trauma and transformation. For many Fairest, who cannot trust even their strongest memory dreams, attempts to understand their own Durance must rely either on the word of their Keepers (and Faeries lie, oh, how they lie), or on reverse-engineering their own behavior to try and conceive of a trauma that could cause it.

Inevitably, however, some things are seared into their minds. For almost all Fairest, their Keeper is high on the list of things they remember with absolute clarity. Other facts, shattered and scattered, vary more widely. Erin Peters remembers stretched years kept in a cold, dark room lit only by her own hatred; every detail of her cell is scorched onto the back of her eyes, but the otherworldly balls her Keeper took her to blur together like food coloring in syrup. The slaves of the Candle Countess have terrible nightmares of the choices they were confronted with, the decision, offered over and over again, to become complicit in the Countess’s cruelty or to be victimized by it. Metallic Flowering from the Shining City struggle not to use drugs to mimic the rush of pleasure they’ve grown used to receiving for performing their jobs well; they also scream in terror if people touch them. A Draconic and a Shadowsoul both remember being used for the sexual pleasure of alien horrors; the one dreams of coiled scales and terrible teeth, the other a lifetime of lurking in an alien maze, tasked to perform the duties of a living trap for the “wicked” and “unwary” who had not yet shed the last vestiges of kindness.

There are no “wild” Fairest. For worse and worse still, to be Fairest is to have been defined by the inescapable and all-consuming attentions of your abuser, and it is this more than anything that other Lost so often fail to understand about the Fairest. Their Keepers heap them with reward and punishment, manipulating the Fairest with honeyed praise, godly wrath, gaslighting, neglect, withholding food, wondrous rewards, drugs from beyond the realms of earthly pleasure, and other hooks and crooks designed to make the Fairest dependent upon their abuser. It is hideously effective, and the first obstacle, maybe even the mightiest, that a Fairest faces to their escape is the simple horror and joy of being alone again. Their masters will try other tricks to keep them in place - tempting them with pleasures, horrific punishments, oh-so-sincere apologies - but before a Fairest can escape into the Hedge she must face, in her mind’s eye, the lonely flight back to the Iron Lands.

The memories that draw Fairest home often have parallels to their experiences in Arcadia. A slave in the Shining City bites into an otherworldly pastry and recalls her grandmother’s pie in its place; the bride of the Demon Lover, curled up under the sheets, thinks about the broken smile of the boyfriend she left behind at home. A Dancer remembers the roller rink where he fell in love with skating, while across the endless tides of the Fairest of Lands, a Shadowsoul holds on like grim death to years of work at haunted houses, scaring kids for fun and for Halloween. Fairest, so famous for their skill at words, struggle to articulate to other Lost why this should be so. Darklings assume it’s because these memories are less intense than Arcadia, and that the Fairest are fleeing to safety. Beasts get it a bit more right by thinking that these memories taste like home. The truth of the matter is that those memories have an intrinsic and nameless meaning; the highs and lows of Arcadia are divine, flawless, absolute, and therefore worthless. They are the proclamations of merciless gods. What draws the Fairest home, more than pain and pleasure they can have on their own terms, is the understanding that those gestures - for weal or for woe or for anything else besides - were made because someone cared about them, personally. Once they fully internalize that their abuser views them as disposable, the Fairest comes home to someone who won’t.

Three Kiths And Flowering Is One And A Half Of Them - Fairest Kiths

Yeah we’re about to be like that about it.

All Fairest can excel in the social arena; their Blessing can be used to flare almost every social roll in the game, and Fairest can never be caught off-guard in a social context (they suffer no untrained penalties to social rolls). With the sole exception of Empathy (usually rolled with Wits) and sometimes Streetwise, there’s no time a Fairest can’t fall back on their words and expect to win through or at least buy time. This is, as you might imagine, a godsend when it comes to attempts to pass in mortal society; Fairest can usually front, charm, bluff, or Manners(tm) their way through things like renting an apartment, nailing a job interview, asking their roommate to do the FUCKING DISHES, or getting stopped by a cop, but both the books and the fanbase miss something here. While Fairest are superb at active social events, they’re no better at keeping a lid on themselves (Composure-based rolls) than mortals are - and given both the nature of their trauma and the fact that they are, you know, Lost, Fairest have a lot more to keep a lid on day-to-day than the human society they’re trying to blend into. Thankfully, Fairest are pretty good at being able to politely leave a situation and go somewhere else to scream, shout, cry, or have a psychotic break, as appropriate.

Of course, Fairest can’t make something from nothing. As discussed in So You Want To Play An Ogre, you can’t win a social game someone else refuses to sit down to, and social rolls shouldn’t be mind control. All the Glamour in the world can’t make your roommate do the FUCKING DISHES if they’re deep in the throes of executive dysfunction, nor can it make the cashier at Walgreens fail to card you for wine when their computer literally won’t advance without an ID. People who are keyed up about honeyed words or whose own trauma came at the hands of manipulators and abusers might refuse to play that game on the terms the Fairest is setting, which makes it hard to, as it were, turn this problem into a nail. Lurking down this path as well is the specter of becoming like the masters who made you this way; if you get used to saying what will get people to listen to you, eventually you start seeing people as enrichment puzzles that dispense the things you want. Madness waits down that road, and it waits for Fairest with a giant spiked bat, thanks to their Seeming Curse.

There’s no pretty way to say this so I won’t: Fairest are always on the verge of losing their minds. Their curse hits them with a flat penalty to all rolls against losing Clarity, which means that Fairest lose Clarity faster than other Lost and they do so more consistently. This necessitates a balancing act with avoiding becoming heartless manipulators; Fairest must engage in control-seeking behavior in order to stay mentally well, must be able to trust and rely on people close to them, structure their lives, and anticipate important changes or they end up on the fast way down. Other Lost often don’t understand this need or the Fairest curse to begin with, and so Fairest end up in unofficial support groups for one another, similar to those run by Darklings except no one will admit it’s a support group even at gunpoint. Woe fucking betide the friend or life partner who gets between a Fairest and her “book club”, “girls’ night”, “D&D campaign”, or other excuse for this vital community support.

Fairest Kiths are...bad. They’re bad. This is the part of the article where I’m supposed to talk about thematics and symbolism and metaphor, and I cannot do that here, because they are bad. Fairest has three viable Kiths that are actual Fairest Kiths, one that’s a Beast Kith who got lost and wound up here by fucking mistake, and a pile of garbage bigger than my self-esteem problems. I’m almost tempted to only talk about those four Kiths and save myself the time but I suppose I should show the work like I’ve done for all the other Seemings, so here we fuckin’ go I guess.

Flowering - This is it. This is the Fairest Kith. If you want to roll any other kind of Fairest you must first pass the trial of justifying why you’re not playing Flowering. In theory, Flowering draws its mythic heritage from nymphs and dryads, charming flower sprites, Knights of Flowers, and the like, but in practice Flowering’s only mechanical effect is 9-again on Persuasion, Socialize, and Subterfuge with no qualification or requirement, which doesn’t just make you better at everything Fairest is good at, it makes you better when you spend Glamour to flare it too. Want to represent a biobahn sith’s hypnotic dance? Flowering works. Want to create a vampiric Fairest with a sultry voice? Here comes Flowering. The siren at the bar who smells like sea air and gunpowder? Flowering. Everything is Flowering. Even the things that aren’t Flowering are Flowering because all Fairest Kiths have a social focus, which is Flowering’s undisputed arena of mastery.

Bright One - In theory, Bright Ones represent beings of light in the vein of Victorian fey (which...ugh...Victorians), but their Goblin Illumination is, how you say, useless, only becoming vaguely useful for a total of 2 Glamour as a passive defense that took you 2 turns to set up. Anything you want to represent here can be found in Flowering and with Elements or Communion (Light).

Dancer - You know how Flowering gives you bonuses on all social rolls? Would you like those same bonuses but on 1 less skill and only on rolls that “involve physical grace”? No? Run Flowering here and give your character a Dance specialty in one or more skills.

Draconic - One of the game’s premier melee options and a Beast Kith who took a wrong turn and ended up getting a free makeover intended for someone else. Draconic in theory represents Fairest as dragons, monster girls, demons, and in general at their most physical, but that idea sorta...falls down a bit? Draconic’s bonuses are all about Brawl and all the sample Draconics are swordsmen, which might suggest to the discerning reader that someone in the office wasn’t reading their own fucking game. Draconic Fairest don’t make bad melee boys if you invest in Lethal Mien, but honestly this is Dual Kith bait; slap it on your Hunterheart or your Razorhand and go apeshit.

Muse - Close but no cigar. In theory Muses are, well, muses; figures of inspiration, mentorship, teaching, creative fire. Their Kith Blessing is strong but requires access to mortals, which is complicated and roundabout on the best of days. If you have an idea that you think is Muse-shaped, use Playmate instead.

Flamesiren - Behold, we enter the realm of Okay(tm). Flamesirens are what Bright Ones wanted to be, and their hypnotic aura is actually a pretty neat tool; with cunning you can make it a one-sided penalty, and even if you don’t it’s an interesting method of de-escalating a social or combat situation by subjecting everyone to the tar pit that is your presence. If your concept involves light and color and you’re resistant to Flowering, Flamesiren will do more than nothing.

Polychromatic - Polychromatics don’t have a lot of roots in mythology; their modern inspirations are, well, Manic Pixie Dream Girls. But they get a shout-out here for being the only Fairest Kith who can muster up decent emotional defenses; not only can they magically boost their Composure rolls (and non-Composure rolls to resist magical and mundane emotional attacks for that matter), but others get a flat penalty to Empathy rolls against them, which makes them talented dissemblers. You’re still probably better off with Flowering - in a world of passive Kith Blessings, Polychromatic’s is extra passive - but I can see this Kith passing muster, and even being worth the two dots to Dual Kith in-house.

Shadowsoul - This one’s insane. Ostensibly Fairest Does Darkling, Shadowsouls get their Wyrd to Intimidate rolls which could be the whole Kith on its own and still be worth the slot, but in addition to that they get 9-again on Subterfuge (matching Flowering and Darklings there) and access to Contracts of Darkness, one of the most powerful in the game line, as an Affinity Contract. Is your Fairest spooky? Would you like them to be spooky? Here’s your one-stop shop.

Telluric - This is a Kith made of ribbon bonuses. In theory related to stars and celestial light, Telluric’s bonuses to rolls “with precise timing” isn’t...really worth considering. Run ‘em as Flamesiren and move on.

Treasured - In theory also able to muster emotional defenses, Treasured are Fairest who are literally made into works of art. They’re Okay(tm) but in their niche are beaten out by Polychromatic with a better effect for less resources.

Playmate - The last Real Fairest Kith(tm), Playmate appears in Night Horrors: Grim Fears where White Wolf tries to sell it as Peter Pan, but its powerful team-oriented bonuses mean that Playmates are useful anywhere Muse is wanted and more places besides. The front woman of an indie rock band could be a Playmate; so too could be an idealized baseball captain, the director at your local theater, the middle manager of a sinister conspiracy, or the night shift lead at a research lab. Do people do a thing in teams? Playmate does that thing.

And She Had Huge Titties, I Mean Massive Badondadonks, Absolutely Enormous Bazoggahoggas - Lost’s Canon Fairest

Remember when I said we had to get back to this after So You Want To Play An Ogre? Now we’re getting back to this. I’m not gonna re-state my caveats from that article and I’m not really gonna go back over the bit about So White Wolf Was Run By Fucking Nazis because, in all honesty, I do not have the fucking time to restate all of that in new words. Give thanks that OPP got out alive and let’s get right down to it.

Fairest have a very consistent characterization in canon that is only really challenged in Winter Masques; the narrative put forth in Lost is that Fairest, being attractive, have an uncomplicated power which privileges their lives. Which is a rather bloodless way to describe how White Wolf kept writing and publishing Fairest as heartless abusers and manipulators getting their jollies and emotional needs met by casually destroying their fellow survivors, manipulating them through sex appeal, outright lies, cattiness, cruelty, and betrayal. Much as simply queering Ogre does not help Ogre in and of itself, queering Fairest only takes you from incel and Nazi propaganda about women into...incel and Nazi propaganda about twinks, femmes, & in general anyone with the temerity to be found attractive by straight white people.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So what do you do at your table, with your Fairest concept? Lemme open up by saying that like, Fairest qua Fairest is perfectly solid, and if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be an article here; Fairest has a lot to say for itself about feminized violence, about your personhood being reduced to a product for the consumption of others, about emotional abuse & neglect, gaslighting, and sexual assault, but the conclusion White Wolf arrives at (”Fairest have unalloyed power over mortal and Lost society and they abuse that power”) is super fucking obtuse and betrays a serious lack of concern for what the Fairest undergo. It ignores the way a Fairest’s ordeals will force her to confront her relationship to her own gender and alter her willingness and ability to be consumed, disconnect her from her former society while also isolating her from her new one, and these questions are important for you if you’re looking to play a ‘classic’ Fairest.

But that leaves some hanging questions. Male Fairest face the almost inescapable fate of “failing” maleness on patriarchal terms; even the most strapping, broad-chested, athletic Adonis of a Fairest has become a man of layered words and reflexive empathy, whose Manly Stoicism(tm) is a cracking facade at best and entirely abandoned in a more typical circumstance. Men who become Fairest thus face a second journey after their escape from Arcadia; confronting what being men means to them and building their gender identity back up from the rubble it’s become. The temptation to accept success on society’s terms is always going to be present, and it’s always going to be offered like it’s possible, but it’s a losing game for these Fairest; they simply cannot be the men that other men demand they become.

Now, the discerning and loyal reader is surely about to ask, hey Vox, where’s the butch Fairest I was promised back in the Ogre article, to which I respond WE’RE GETTING THERE but I gotta use this as a bridge to talk about something that cuts across Fairest of all genders, be they cis or trans. Lost 1e makes a lot of hay out of the idea that Fairest “are rarely conventionally attractive”, and core even provides some interesting written concepts for that...which make it into exactly none of the art. Every published Fairest is conventionally attractive for various definitions of conventional, be it as a supermodel or a waif, but that leaves the question of Fairest who genuinely are not - and, tragically, Fairest who were not, and were then made into someone more easily consumed by their Durance. You know what I’m about to say, and I know you know I’m about to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyway: all bodies are beautiful, but Fairest know well that beauty and attraction aren’t the same, and neither are beauty and happiness. All Fairest, from the roundest bear to the most wide-eyed waif, are the products of Keepers who valued their bodies in that state, and that idea is going to haunt them day in and day out for the rest of their extended lives. There is no such thing as a Fairest with an uncomplicated relationship to their body, and that White Wolf seems to think that an uncomplicated relationship is their default state is...disgusting, frankly.

Which brings us, at long last, to butch Fairest (also bear Fairest but I’m gonna stick with the one set of terms or I’m going to go mad and this will never be published), who have a complicated journey ahead of them. On the one hand, the assertion of control and ownership over their own bodies, their own identities, cannot be overstated. On the other hand, elements of those bodies are going to be completely out of their control; a nascent butch Fairest may well hit the gym to get swole only to discover that she literally, physically cannot, that she has been Assigned Dex Build At Durance. Hauling your corpse out of Arcadia with an extremely feminine appearance shaped by your Keeper might complicate attempts to present in a more masculine manner or even just to appear androgynous, and those complications can be discouraging. For those that stick to it, this journey will take them two places; one is the bared-teeth, bloody-knuckled assertion that this life is theirs and you can have it if you can fucking take it, and the other is into the ranks of the Freehold’s retained warriors, usually in Summer or Autumn, though a vibrant representation of Spring knights will make it seem as if Spring has more butch Fairest than it actually does. These Fairest are aware, or will become aware, of how much of their job involves de-escalating or pre-empting violence; a focus on Physical stats or skills is not necessarily common, but hyper-specialization therein likely is. A butch Fairest is a lot more likely to have, say, Brawl 4 (Multiple Opponents) and no other Physical skills than she is to have Brawl, Weaponry, Athletics, and Stealth, in part or in whole because her first weapon of choice is going to be an Intimidate roll.

At every turn you’re able to, challenge White Wolf’s narrative about Fairest by asking yourself what your Fairest wants, why they’re this way, what they’re frightened of, and how the way they behave relates back to these. They’re not products; they’re people, just as hurt and Lost as the rest of their peers.

Princesses And Pastries - Fairest In The Courts

Fairest have a complex relationship to the society of their fellow Lost. On the one hand, they have the same need for community, support, companionship, understanding, honesty, and material aid as all Lost; a Fairest is not magically proof against being homeless, against starving, against the dangers of existing in the modern world without things like a photo ID or car insurance, and Freeholds provide all of these things. On the other hand, the thing most Fairest fear most, even if they can’t articulate that fear, is their own power - social influence, emotional trust and betrayal, status, political power, and authority. Fairest are all too aware that being good at this game does not make them immune to it - after all, that’s the lesson they learned at the hands of their Keepers.

What follows from this is a complex dance of interactions that each Fairest in some ways has to feel like she’s managing on her own, even if she’s not (and she rarely is; those support groups exist for a reason). If you give a Fairest a doughnut in a social setting, she will lick that doughnut even if she doesn’t intend to eat it right away, solely to hear someone else say something along the lines of “well it’s yours now”. As Fairest filter into Freehold society and take up social roles at all levels of power - officers, messengers, ‘ambassadors’ to mortal society, secretaries, pledge-smiths, teachers, monarchs - their responsibilities and rewards become their doughnut. That Fairest make a big deal out of both their job and the benefits that come with it is rarely, as other Lost sometimes think, about aggrandizement or reveling in power for its own sake; it’s about the sheer relief and assurance of hearing someone say, to the Fairest’s face, that this is her doughnut and no one is going to take it from her.

Younger Fairest tend to flit between two or three Courts; their initial selection may be based entirely on friendships, Vibes, or a gut-check decision based on an initial pitch by that Court, and Fairest can go quite far even in a Court that doesn’t quite actually fit their needs. Eventually, though, those Fairest who survive their youth will gravitate towards a Court whose ideals speak to them, even if its current social order isn’t living up to those ideals. If they’re going to be condemned to live as exiles in the world of their birth, the Fairest can at least be the person she wants to be, god damn it. Fairest aren’t any more or less vulnerable to a toxic Court environment than other Lost, but they’re good at detecting it beforehand. Unfortunately they’re also good at telling themselves they can change it.

Spring - Though early Spring joiners are of course rare in general, Fairest are among those Lost who more commonly choose Spring as a first Court. Spring’s highly social focus and chaotic internal organization is almost tailor-made for the skill set of your average Fairest, but therein too lies a sense of threat; for many Fairest, Spring can remind them of their Durance, and their joining of the Court is as much motivated by fear of a powerful cultural body as it is by any genuine Desire, maybe even more so. Many such Fairest end up caught in Spring’s middle-road trap, spinning their wheels without recovering or worsening more or less until they finally die, but when Autumn can sniff out the fearful ones it puts a lot of work into cooperating with Spring to get them out and where they can be helped.

Summer - More Fairest dabble with Summer for dreams of glory, or because they want to believe in Summer’s apolitical sales pitch, than ultimately stick with Summer. Those that do stay often serve as officers, as the Sun’s Tongue or the Arrayer of Distant Thunder, and as Court sorcerers. Fairest skilled in Contracts of Separation can make for surprising Jaegers, hounding their prey down more like a private investigator or a serial killer than a traditional hunter, but while striking this is fairly rare. Fairest who stick with Summer are those who are looking for its high ideals and are often among those rare Summer Courtiers who can competently articulate both those ideals and their pitfalls without falling prey to cynicism and bitterness.

Autumn - For those Fairest who hurt others to feel safe, Autumn is waiting. The Leaden Mirror can be attractive to young Fairest because it’s easy to perceive Autumn as atomized, defined by personal relationships rather than webs of political influence, but when the Fairest discovers those webs the existence of Option Two: Resort To Violence as an acceptable tool to the Ashen Court is perversely reassuring rather than threatening. The image of the Fairest as a witch, tempting and threatening, clings to them in Autumn but it’s honestly not their most common role; Autumn employs its Fairest as rumor-mongers, the Other Woman who seems a little too familiar with your husband, therapists & counselors, oneiromancers, and ambassadors to Hedge communities. The work Autumn does is harsh on Clarity, and Fairest are especially vulnerable to that harshness, but if the Court invests the time in helping its Fairest members, the self-awareness and self-confidence it offers can be a godsend that no other Court can give them.

Winter - As the Court which is actually selling what Fairest think Autumn has - to wit, the ability to simply say “no” to all social interactions with no justification required - Winter has a strong undercurrent of Fairest membership at all tiers of its power. Fairest often end up directly involved in Winter’s money-making enterprises, and flourish as Squires and Armigers with their fingers on the pulse of the Court’s morale. Winter’s hands-off approach displays a tremendous amount of trust in its Fairest from their perspective, and the demeanor of the Coldest Court - Winter’s indifferent equality - has a potent, merciless appeal. The trap of drowning in Sorrow sucks more than a few Fairest under, but if their peers can be there for them there’s always a way back out.

This Is Not A Pipe - Fairest And Lost’s Themes

My many thanks to Izzie M for her extensive help on this section. I’m not sure I’d have been able to grapple it down, emotionally or intellectually, otherwise.

Fairest go through some intense shit, and the shit they go through can never fully be addressed, never fully be recovered from. It’s no mistake that Fairest, like Wizened, are among those Lost likely to never fully gain resolution with or from their Keeper, and this is because they embody the dark truth that no matter how much progress you make, how much you heal, your trauma has changed who you are as a person and you will be dealing with it until you die. But, as alluded to extensively above in the discussion of Fairest and gender, Fairest also embody the way in which society will attempt to stamp you, mold you, turn you into a product to be consumed or an archetype to be placed into its churning machine, and its attempts to reshape who and what you are and can be are, in themselves, a form of trauma and abuse.

Fairest deal a lot in expectations. They’re expected to be perfect victims, they’re expected to be happy (because they’re beautiful and attractive, because they can front as Doing Okay, because they have a form of access to ‘normal’ society), they’re expected to want romance and sex (since everyone else wants those things out of them), to perform emotional labor, to be available, intimate, understanding, to keep up appearances. Fairest escape the chains of their Keeper only to be clapped in the chains that extend into the eyes and minds of their peers, and they cannot move without hearing the clink of them.

Fairest are primed to represent victims of ongoing emotional abuse and neglect; sex slaves and victims of child abuse might find themselves in Fairest, as might husbands or wives of abusive partners (and boy, re-living my bullshit there was a bonus prize I didn’t want to receive for writing this article), children pushed to over-achieve (here overlapping with Elemental) until they break, pastor’s daughters and cult kids (here overlapping with Beast), and others. However, Fairest also hit their thematic stride when talking about trauma from a society that will not give you an exit. A trans person is first punished by society for “failing” to perform their assigned gender, then made to perform their new one to expectations that they cannot set, do not control, and do not consent to; such a person might easily be Fairest, as might a man breaking under the expectations of Maleness, a college student losing their mind in finals week with no one to help, or even more ‘ordinary’ sex workers expected to perform emotional and physical labor for a society that rewards their work with violence and dehumanization.

Fairest are people with complex internal worlds and they damn well know it, but the temptations to let others define them are numerous; society promises all manner of rewards for being who and what it wants you to be, for wanting the things it tells you to want, for being the kind of person who wants and does those things. To be Fairest is to know at any time you can start faking it and receive those rewards insofar as they’re actually on the table, but it is also to know, every second of every day that you’re performing that role, that it is fake. If you can’t find a community with which you can be genuine...well. You can always get more hurt, and in this way Fairest also bring another theme of Lost into focus: that the Lost owe compassion and understanding to their fellow victims, because failure to care can only hurt both them and everyone in their blast zone.

Feet Pics For Legos - Coping As A Fairest

Fairest are among those Lost who are most concerned with their day-to-day social interactions and safety rather than their immediate, very physical environmental safety. They are perhaps the Seeming most likely to live in a group setting (in an apartment with roommates or romantic partners, in a house shared between multiple households, splitting the bills in a condo, with their parents), and are definitely the Seeming most comfortable with the idea of living with mortals who aren’t ensorcelled. Indeed, Fairest don’t tend to do well living alone; even a Fairest who wants or needs a private place to be, choosing to keep a home in which others cannot lay a claim, will likely crash at friends’ places, sleep over at the Freehold commons on some pretext or another, stay the night with a lover, or otherwise have a place to flop down while surrounded by other people. Having other people - their greatest reality check - around the place helps keep the Fairest centered in the real reality, better able to pick apart the mortal from the Wyrd from their own unrelated hallucinations, and a Fairest who is isolated - or who is permitted to isolate herself - quickly begins to dissociate and may soon be incapable of caring for herself until someone can get her back into the present.

Those invited over as guests to a Fairest’s home may note a lot of concern for those she lives with. She likely schedules the event well in advance, is clear about the boundaries of those she lives with (”That’s Brenda’s room, the door stays shut.”) and in general treats her communal home with a lot of respect and love. Respecting these boundaries and in turn having her own respected is very validating for the Fairest and is vital to be able to feel safe and at ease in her own home, and impressing their importance on guests further reinforces that this is, as it were, her doughnut. While not dismissive of their own literal physical safety per se, a Fairest’s anxieties rarely center around her body being violently attacked by strangers. For those that do have such anxieties, they may choose to solve that problem by simple expedient of rooming or living with someone large and scary.

Another detail of note which is touched on in Winter Masques is that Fairest tend to seek out life’s little pleasures. Though they are not necessarily wealthier than other Lost, how a Fairest chooses to spend her money tends to follow particular patterns. Rare is the Fairest who doesn’t have clothing they like, a phone that works, a wallet or purse that can actually hold all of their stuff, and in this regard most Fairest without a special interest in fashion as a hobby in and of itself will have an aesthetic that is self-expressive but serviceable and hard-wearing, but any place the Fairest haunts, frequents, or lives in will get little touches everywhere. Fairest spend the little bits of extra money for good toilet paper, soft soaps that won’t hurt the skin, good shower supplies, high-quality razors, boots that won’t wear through - and they spend their serious money on their hobbies and preferences. A Fairest with a passion for cooking scrimps and saves to get a fully-stocked kitchen; a Fairest who likes building and connecting invests in Legos or Hot Wheels and creates elaborate environments for them. A gamer Fairest has headphones that can vibrate your constipation away and a fiber optic connection to ensure that lag will not stand between her and your doom. The reasons for this are manifold, and Lost’s canon writing suggests that Fairest seek pleasure to alleviate a desire to return to Arcadia. This is, to put it mildly, a stupid assertion; rather, the Fairest provides her own pleasures in part because it is one of the most emotionally clear ways to lick the doughnut, and in part because it reminds her that she can be happy under her own power, can seek pleasure, stimulation, engagement, without placing herself at another’s mercy - ironically making it easier to go out every day and do exactly that as a member of her various societies.

As a Fairest settles in she tends to look for “her” people, and quite often they’re good at compartmentalizing this, wearing different hats and having different feelings about those hats without feeling fake or distressed about the bare fact of that. She’ll have her personal friends and family, like her housemates, her girlfriend, maybe her mortal family, her neighbors, and then folks like her Motley (which are like her personal friends and family, but In The Know), her fellow Fairest and the Freehold broadly, her work friends and fellow hobbyists. A Fairest who does, say, sex work, thinks of herself as a Sex Worker and understands herself in the context of that broader social group. It can be a lot! Many Lost barely have a handle on being a member of both the Freehold and a Court, and the way Fairest flit to and fro between many communities, slipping seamlessly from one role to another, can be exhausting to watch - but by doing so the Fairest also builds bonds between those communities, highlights their common needs and interests, draws them together over their similarities and strengths. Darklings and Wizened get a lot of the work on the ground done, but it’s often a Fairest in the role of whistleblower, figurehead, and champion all at once.

After all, this, too, is her doughnut.

Example Fairest - Clara Belltower, Spring Playmate

Clara Belltower is a mime.

Well, no, not exactly. Clara Belltower is a self-employed porn actress, erotic script writer, and director, whose primary thing is mimes, clowns, and more broadly circuses and performance venues. She came back from Arcadia eight years back fleeing life as her Keeper’s Stepford Wife, and ran face-first into the money issues that haunt the Lost in general. What started out as a practical choice in new career - and an attempt to find and express an identity not created for her by her abuser - became a creative passion that has stayed strong with Clara and propelled her to status in the Spring Court, which retains her keen eye for decoration, direction, and theatricality in service to its high rituals and revels. Clara’s livestreams and online presence are also a convenient avenue for the Freehold to launder its less legal revenue streams, which has endeared Spring’s “silent siren” to the Winter Court and cemented her as a mover and shaker.

Clara’s ambitions reach beyond erotic miming, as talented as she is at both creating and purveying such. She has her eyes on four different strip clubs in Freehold territory alone whose owners and operators need to fucking go, and she wants Winter’s help making it happen; further, she wants the Freehold to take over operation of those establishments for the benefit of the workers. Clara’s vision is popular in Spring and has its supporters in Summer too, but the Declining Seasons have been cool on the concept, citing a need to maintain subtlety and avoid entanglements with the mortal world that might invite the eye of, say, the IRS - or mire the Freehold in a protracted war with local police departments. Clara’s passion burns with a righteous simplicity, envisioning a Freehold that is active in improving the city around it - if the cops want to throw down, bring it on! Her influence over Winter means the Coldest Court cannot simply dismiss her desires, but neither is it willing to go to war. Something is going to have to give, soon.

This concludes the Fairest portion of the article. Some additional thoughts on Seeming follow.

Bombing Your Own Position - Choosing Your Seeming

So it’s been six articles and I’ve talked about the ways various Seemings can represent responses to the things which traumatize us; neurodivergences for which society abuses us, the machinery of capitalism, violence, prison, and more. But how do you go about choosing your character’s Seeming? The obvious choice is to make a character that puts a lot of yourself at the table; to seek out a Seeming that reflects your own traumas, your own issues, your own anxieties and struggles, and then grapple with them in this fictional context. But RPGs can be an emotionally challenging medium, and you may well not want to deal with your own bullshit during your magic trauma fairy game. That’s valid!

Now, the second obvious piece of advice is to think about your proposed character’s themes and traumas and then select a Seeming from there, but this can get complicated. Many Lost players feel as if they need two Seemings, and to those players I say: no the fuck you do not. But it is true that people are messy and do not fully resolve, that the broad spectrum of the world of sorrow and loss is not easy to fit into 6 discrete categories whose creation was often managed by, not to keep repeating this point, fucking Nazis. I have found in my experience that it can be helpful, when you’re torn between two Seemings or you have a character you’re sure is this Seeming even though they look like or could be that one, to ask yourself why the character is not the other option. Why is this alluring and sensual Darkling not a Fairest, what makes this brutal and violent Wizened not an Ogre? This question naturally leads to others about their abuse and their reaction to it, and can start your momentum for writing your concept out.

As an addition, while I’ve spoken of various Seemings as being well-equipped to represent specific traumas, they don’t own those traumas. Elementals are metaphorically autistic, but there’s nothing stopping you from running an autistic Fairest or an autistic Beast instead. Rather, those Seemings outlined as being “for” or “about” certain traumas are those whose selection will make those traumas thematically central, cause you to return to them as a topic over and over by virtue of being who and what they are. Real people have complicated problems which intersect with one another, spawning new problems that are more strange than the sum of their parts, and it’s both valid and interesting to write your Lost that way - just keep in mind that it’ll still be complicated at the table too.

Van Helsing Hate Crimes - Seeming Politics

White Wolf spent a lot of time waffling back and forth on whether or not Seemings represent distinct cultural and political identities in a given Freehold, drifting towards ‘yes’ when the writers thought about the way Blessings and Curses create consistent, measurable differences between Lost of various Seemings, and towards ‘no’ generally whenever they were asked to actually outline a Lost society such as a sample Freehold or Entitlement. Some Entitlements are locked to specific Seemings, often times with little thought as to why, while other times Seeming-based power blocs are alluded to as worldbuilding elements (such as in Lords of Summer) without much in the way of supporting detail. Why should these things happen, when, how, what does the buildup of this violent fracture in a Freehold society look like?

On the whole, I have taken the stance in these articles and in my own worldbuilding that some amount of fantastical prejudice exists amongst the Lost, but that the systems of oppression have not taken root. Maybe it’s idealistic of me to view the Lost as unwilling or unable to produce internally racist power structures that create an underclass for the benefit of an appointed elite, but in general I feel as if Freeholds are too small, each individual member too precious by simple dint of being a living being in a physical body, for this kind of evil to flourish. That said, you may have also noticed that I identified two Seemings - Darklings and Fairest - as explicitly self-uniting and in some senses self-governing on the basis of common traumas that they often cannot fully explain to outsiders, and indeed community with people that understand your bullshit without you having to say it aloud - that is, those who share a Seeming with you - can be invaluable to all Lost. Ultimately, however, I want to advise against looking at Seemings the way that, say, Vampire: the Requiem looks at Clans, and instead to treat them as reactions to trauma rather than a kind of alternate racial identity.

Next up: So You Need To Write A Fetch