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solauriel.bsky.social
Sunstar
@solauriel.bsky.social
26 followers 2 following 35 posts
Just a side account for fun!

All the unfiltered musings that get edited out from main

WIPs, old art, weird memes, etc. 18+ art will be properly tagged.

A lot of 10+ year old art lives here!

It's shared, so have fun figuring that out!
Posts Replies Media Videos
solauriel.bsky.social
Trail (2017)
The youth bent over, touching the broken ornate item, tracing the black patterning. He freezes. The lines had begun to move, slither like snakes off of the pattern, their inky shapes creating trails across the ground. A sudden cold hit him, the atmosphere crackling with a roiling heaviness. He held back a sound of fear, dread settling over him. The shadowy trails led to two shoes, someone was there and not there. The youth willed his fingers to release the orb, to break this vision, but he was rooted to the spot. He felt another wave of cool, accompanied by a child-like sigh, the scent of roses and decay entering his nostrils. He did not dare to look up, frightened at what he would see. With a hiss, something far more silent and cold began to form behind him, like a panther coiling for a killing blow. It had found him again.
June 19, 2025 at 4:44 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
Vampire bats remind me of little pterosaurs. The way they run around on all fours like tiny goblins.🦐
An ink drawing of a vampire bat having a small meal on the back of a livestock animal. They seem content.
June 19, 2025 at 4:36 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
The Boatman
"I request passage over the river", said the youth, his hand holding two coins towards the boatman above. "I ask only one coin for my fare", the being intoned, the unearthly flame of his boat flaring at his voice. The youth nodded, still holding out his coins; "Yes, but I hope to return back." The ancient's eyes softened slightly, noticing the medallion in the youth's clenched hand. "Keep the coin for your return then. I will take it then if you still live."
June 19, 2025 at 4:09 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
A short explainer (by my partner) about frogs squeaking 🐸
An illustration of a male frog being held in a hand (he is displeased) ------- Male frogs (females are mute) have unique methods of communication. When you pick up a frog, it will often make repeated squeaks or croaks. He is politely telling you that he is not a female and to please release him. This happens from time to time in spring as frogs look almost identical to each other. If the frog is screaming or making a prolonged high call instead, you have frightened them to the point that they are trying to shock you into dropping them. They are in fear of their lives. Release them immediately and let them recover. In either case, be respectful to the frogs. If you pick one up, do so for only a short time, and be gentle. If they ask to be put down, do it. Chytrid is pulling through their ranks, and stress can be a trigger for it.
June 19, 2025 at 4:05 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
'Climb'

Fun short story fragment in alt✨
An illustration of a person climbing a narrow ledge. "This is how I am going to die". It was the thought that looped in his head, repeated each time another wave crashed against the rock ledge he was clinging to. He had been doing well enough before the ledge above had collapsed under his weight. He had cried out, clawing at soil and rock before he managed to hit the ledge he was on now. He looked down at the form of his friend, hoping to see him stir, but just as he was when he had looked down the cliffside, he had not moved. He was prone on the cliffside below, and the tide seemed to be climbing far faster than he could. The note had promised he would be returned in one piece, but he should have expected some twist like this by now. The wind gusted, pulling at him with invisible fingers, and the shadow of "the old spire" seemed to be wrapping around him; "like death's finger", his mind whispered. He shivered and took a hesitant step forward, cursing the loss of his shoes. It would be a long climb.
June 19, 2025 at 4:01 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
Old drawing by my partner (2017ish)

Back then, we weren't 'out' as a couple yet.

Short (not based on us) story in alt, names changed.

Time has a way of looping back on itself, doesn't it?
(Black pen illustration of two masc people cuddling happily in bed. Their wedding rings are proudly displayed.) If the holidays were good for one thing, it was sleeping in. He had hoped he would be able to turn over and go back to sleep after the alarm clock had gone off, but he found himself thinking instead, the sound of Ian's soft breathing the only sound in the room. They had told him it was foolish to marry Ian so soon after the new laws had swept through, legalising what many still saw as a moral wrong. Social and professional suicide, they had said. Why marry him when he could keep it quiet like it had been, hidden under the rug? He remembered the people they both lost, and the hatred they often faced on a day to day basis. The world was a dark place for anyone who stood out, but he didn't regret it. The future was uncertain, the television stayed off most days, but he knew he would never be alone in whatever followed. Love had united them finally. Life would go on.
June 19, 2025 at 3:35 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
'Value is in the hand of the finder'
An ink illustration of a bowl of found treasures. There are birds skulls, fossils, vials, keys, antique bells, shells, acorns, bones, and a partial beetle.
June 19, 2025 at 2:01 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
Just a queen✨
A photo of a toad majestically resting by her favourite burrow.
June 19, 2025 at 1:54 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
An entity that my partner once dreamed of and then drew.
A black and white ink pen illustration of a nightmare entity.
June 19, 2025 at 1:51 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
'The deep of the ocean, much like the vastness of space, is timeless and ageless. Travel too far into its silence, and the illusion of its tranquility will fade'
A figure swims in the deep ocean, some great fish-like being emerging into view from the silky darkness. Ink pen on paper, 2018
June 19, 2025 at 1:46 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
Image model: Merlin the tiger salamander

(2018) (Merlin is still around)
A digital illustration of a 'fyre salamander'. (They look rather unimpressed) 'Salamanders were once thought to be impervious to flames, and were often linked with elemental fire. The truth of the matter is that they were simply hiding in people's firewood, then exiting swiftly to avoid being roasted.'
June 19, 2025 at 1:43 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
An old tale 🍃
An old tale. In a clearing, stood seven sacred trees. Six men came and cut one down. They did not care for the warnings. By the evening, they took away the body, they were not thankful or thoughtful. Their minds were already thinking of more. The forest crept in around the stump, it waited. Six men came again with axes, one for each tree. The forest stood and spoke, warning them to leave; the trees were not for them. The men did not listen, raising their axes to the trees. In a strike, the youngest cut the bark of the first tree. The forest struck in turn. One by one, the forest ate them. Beetles grew out of their skin, mice took away their eyes, and birds came to carry away their insides. The forest gathered their bones, carefully, kindly, and began to build. It wove through the night, before it was done, breathing life into it before returning to its deep rest. Not long after, more men came with axes. They came upon seven trees, hungry to take them for their uses. They cut lightly, the first tree, but it bled red sap, voices screaming from within. They came to the other side, and their eyes were blinded by what waited. There, six faces grew, their eyes sightlessly watching, their voices weeping. The men left, their spirits broken. They did not return. In the clearing, stand seven trees. Six warnings protect them
June 19, 2025 at 1:38 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
Birds are the true heirs of the earth.
A pen illustration of a rooster. Chickens are sharp and deadly beings, quick to strike and kill. Their elaborate social hierarchies are eternally shifting, a rooster often overseeing the flock. Chickens are omnivorous, and if they are given space, they will happily catch any living thing small enough to be eaten. In a way, we are given a glimpse into the eyes of a dinosaur when we take time to be in the company of these creatures.
June 19, 2025 at 1:35 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
Even after death, some things are still hungry.
A carnivore skull that seems to still be alive. It drools as it dreams of flesh.
June 19, 2025 at 1:32 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
Exhausted

'When you sit, the heaviness grows from the ground, into your veins, into your bones. It is a sinking exhaustion, a lead that pulls at each heartbeat. At some point, sleep no longer cures it, only holds it back from spreading so swiftly.'
A tired hand resting against a surface. The shadow of the hand rises up to meet it.
June 19, 2025 at 1:30 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
'Perhaps stars are simply eggs, waiting to hatch'
A simple drawing of a being encapsulated in a stylised star
June 19, 2025 at 1:25 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
'It flows ever out'

(2018)
A being who is only half alive. Blackness pours from the hourglass in their chest. Words pour out of their sealed mouth, unstoppable Possible translation of the words (My partner drew this): death, eternity, cave, cold, chill, rest
June 19, 2025 at 1:23 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
Old art! ✨

'Nature's children might seem savage in their behaviour, but there is rarely cruel intention behind their actions.'
A pen drawing of a barn owl swallowing a frog.
June 19, 2025 at 1:14 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
Clock (2018)
A masculine figure kneels in front of a large clockface with roman numerals. The hands of the clock seem to emerge from their skull. Their right hand is skeletal and grasps a pocket watch delicately. Their expression communicates something between calm and relief.
June 19, 2025 at 1:07 AM
solauriel.bsky.social
'Bound'

Made years ago as a visualisation of chronic illness.
A raven tries to fly against blood soaked bonds. They are panting, exhausted, but they refuse to give up, still straining towards the faint light in the distance. They know what will happen if they stop fighting for even a moment.
June 18, 2025 at 11:07 PM
solauriel.bsky.social
I still love this piece.
-An image of a hand bathed in sunlight- I suffer full-body immune responses to ultraviolet radiation; both to direct sunlight and some bulbs. Sometimes, when I have gone out too long, past caution, it feels as if my insides have been burnt from within.
June 18, 2025 at 11:04 PM
solauriel.bsky.social
Almost a decade old
An unearthly figure and their horse ghost through the woodlands, searching. Long ago, creatures rode the long winding roadways; sometimes on horseback, sometimes by carriage. They were called the Dullahan. At rest, an unfortunate passerby might mistake them for a mortal man, if not for their own head that they carry, chopped from their necks. They have one task, and that is to collect the living to death. The speed of their travel sets the grass aflame, a human backbone whipping anything in their paths. No door will stay locked, no river can hold them back. Onlookers are splashed in blood or blinded if they refuse to look away. Their heads guide them, the Dullahan lifting it to search out their target. No darkness is too deep to blind those glowing eyes. The head says little, until they stand at the place of death. Then, with a mouth wider than is right, it speaks out the name of the doomed soul. Legends have been born of them, watered down and made palatable, but their own tale is born of ancient rites. They are the hands and feet of Black Crom, left to be forgotten.
June 18, 2025 at 11:02 PM
solauriel.bsky.social
In the darkness of the water,
a great chasm waits;
to take unwary sailors,
straight down to Davy's gates.
2018 A great draining chasm spins in the middle of the ocean. Something lurks inside
June 18, 2025 at 10:58 PM
solauriel.bsky.social
Old art dump, original text in alt✨
Description: A raven with an almost human expression, flying unsteadily. In their talons, they hold sacred items. They had said that flying was more like "falling with style", but he had simply began to fall with the first few wingbeats. He had dropped almost halfway to the ground before levelling out and climbing again, his heart in his beak. He flew steadily now, aiming for the horizon. The disguise was imperfect, but he was counting on the spell to last long enough for him to make it to his destination. He would rather not repeat his last plummet without feathers to catch him again.
June 18, 2025 at 10:56 PM
solauriel.bsky.social
Abba - Gimme Gimme Gimme Cover in Attic Greek (BRONZECORE)
YouTube video by the_miracle_aligner
youtu.be
June 7, 2025 at 12:16 AM