#Lith Thorne

[ninoxwof]

Thorn the Sandwing

[Image Description: A digital drawing of Thorn from Wings of Fire. She is a sandy yellow Sandwing dragon with a small, lithe body, thick eyebrows, a narrow face and a light cream underbelly. She has hazelnut colored markings which includes a mask marking on her face that goes from the top of her head to her muzzle, many different triangle speckle markings, and ones that resemble roses on her shoulders. Her sail is similar to her daughter's, being segmented like flowing rectangles and colored a light brown. Her claws, tail barb, eyes and horns are all brown, her horns being long and twisty. She is posed as though she is flying. On a second image, her accessories are added to the drawing, which includes the Eye of Onyx, an opal pendant, a golden earring on her right ear, and a golden bracelet of dragons with their wings spread out, connected together by their heads and tails on her left arm. /.End ID]

#wof #wings of fire #dragon #wof arc 1 #wof arc 2 #the brightest night #darkness of dragons #the dangerous gift #wof arc 3 #sandwing #wof thorn #dragons #wof art #royalty #queen thorn

[hermesmyplatonicbeloved]

Thinking about how 12 year old Percy took one look at Hades and described him as lithe, graceful and powerful, his eyes mesmerizing. Percy wondered what Hades underwear looked like. He wanted to lie down at his feet and take a nap. 100% attracted instantly.

And then two years later, Hades' 10-12 year old child Nico comes along and falls head over heels in love with Percy, while Percy risks his life to defend Nico and Bianca from Dr. Thorn. Nico starts hero worshipping this super powerful demigod that so protective and attractive.

And in return by the end of ttc and botl Percy starts seeing Nico as this kid he needs to protect and takes the weight/heat of a great prophecy so Nico doesnt have to, and Percy becomes the pseudo-parent of Nico by feeding him and worrying about his safety and protecting him.

And then you think in a crack AU version of PJO this would've turned into the world's most awkward love triangle right?

Then you remember that in tlo Hades and Nico worked together to successfully lure Percy down to the underworld. (Not to mention that kidnapping is a thing for Hades, it's how he got his wife). I-

#percy/nico #pjo #percy jackson #percico #nicery #hades #percy/hades #percy jackson and the olympians #rick riordan #rrverse #the lightning thief #bi percy jackson #look. for legal reasons half of this is a joke. #but baby Percy was hella attracted to hades and i will die on this hill

[merakiui]

After seeing some lovely fanart of Jade, I thought of a Forest Lord AU

One in which the reader is on the run and stumbles into an enchanted forest that seems fine on the outside but is actually the domain of the forest god, Jade! When they encounters him,, he promises to grant their wish of freedom. Everything seems to go well in their life from then on but there’s something lurking around reader that they can’t shake. I can’t imagine Jade would grant wishes without wanting something in return >_< when the reader returns wondering why they’re starting to feel unsafe again, is when he reveals he can keep them safe permanently. With him! :D

Jade wanting your firstborn child in return, but the surprise is that he's the one knocking you up..............

Forest god!Jade who keeps you trapped in a little prison of brambles and branches. <3 the more you struggle, the sharper and tighter they get, enclosing on all sides until you're confined in such a tight space. They'll loosen and retreat if you stop acting so difficult, but Jade thinks you need to learn a lesson first. He'll patch up any scratches you might garner from the thorns.

Forest god!Jade who makes the prettiest flora bloom for you. There are flowers you've never even seen before, each more mystical than the last. He's especially fond of mushrooms. They have a tendency to pop up around him whenever he's in a bad mood, growing in abundant clusters, but if he's happy the grass is greener and the flowers are blossoming in an array of bright, beautiful colors.

Forest god!Jade who always blends into the domain in which he inhabits. Donning a mossy cloak, a crown of twigs, clothes stitched together from leaves, he looks so lithe and dainty. It catches you by surprise when that same sweet-looking god turns out to be quite fearsome if you incur his ire...

Forest god!Jade who conjures toadstool seats for you and him to sit down on for a tea party in a comfortable clearing in the forest. The trees are tall and thick, surrounding you on all sides. You feel trapped, but Jade just smiles at you and pours you another cup of dandelion tea.

Intruders who stray too deep into his domain are dealt with at once. Jade has fun toying with them, pawing them around as if he's a cat and they're unfortunate mice. You ask him if he absolutely must do this every time. He smiles at you: "Am I not repaying the favor? If they can spend days trampling on my flora and hunting my fauna, then they can spend a dozen more clinging to a wasted life." There is sadistic glee in those mismatched eyes of his... You remind yourself to never get on his bad side unless you want to spend the last remaining slivers of your life trapped and walking aimlessly through a creepy, enchanted forest.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst

[katjapetersart]

A concept for an ancestor of the t'au, considered an important step in their evolution similar to the first apes to humans. A social ruminant about the size of a bulky deer that eats a wide variety of tree-like plants and fruits on a savannah/forest edge.

The younglings are very bipedal, the adults bi-quad. They will return to bipedalism to graze, to display and importantly to look for predators. They have a ranking order in the herd, and the adults take turns watching for predators.

The heavy thorns on the trees they feed on give their hooved hands an advantage: they can delicately and safely 'pluck' leaves, fruit, and buds to bring them to their mouth.

Their crests are useful for intraspecies communication through scent and pheromones. It also allows for loud, low honks that spread well over long distances. They are also part of the mating display.

In time, the clade becomes less relient on leafy greens and more omnivorous. As the clade becomes more derived and you come closer to t'au, they become more lithe and fully bipedal, with dextrous grasping hands and a strict social order. The young are born live and suckle milk-like sweat on 'suckling patches' near the wrists of adults. They mature away from suckling quickly.

#worldbuilding #spec evo #spec worldbuilding #fan spec evo #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #wh40k #warhammer #t'au #t'au empire #traditional art #art #artists on tumblr

[belle-keys]

Grace Blackthorn really is the gothic heroine of The Last Hours. She grew up in Blackthorn Manor and Chiswick House, both sprawling gothic manors that are representative of this once-great Blackthorn and Lightwood past of glory and societal importance. But with Benedict Lightwood being a sicko and Rupert Blackthorn being dead (and a ghost), we see that all Chiswick House and Blackthorn Manor represent now is the darkness of Days Past, existing as seats of their families’ respective tragedies, of Tatiana Blackthorn’s own adolescent trauma, and the way the past suffocates her. Classic gothic setting, check!

Then we of course have the psychological trauma and repression that defines Grace’a life. Her growth and natural development are stunted because of the demonic ensorcellement charm forced on her. She is at the mercy of Tatiana and is abused physically and emotionally. Moreover, she’s denied the chance to grow as a normal girl should - she is made to be “a blade” and has to put aside all her other interests and passions such as Shadowhunter training, science, and mathematics. The darker sexual elements of the gothic cannot be understated in Grace’s character: her demonic power from Belial is literally seduction. She also has the typical gothic tyrant looming over her: Tatiana, the Dracula to her Lucy or Miss Havisham to her Estella. Repression, restraint and erotic elements, check!

But lastly, all gothic fiction has some kind of weird, dark shit going on in the back. In The Last Hours, Grace doesn’t has a spouse hiding in the attic. Rather, she has brother hiding there. A ghost brother. The bracelet scheme is just the icing on the cake, because the bracelet not only transforms Grace into a demoness bred by her malicious environment but simultaneously into the flailing Gothic victim: young, female, pale, lithe and helpless in the face of more sinister evils. The lines between nature and nurture blur when it comes to Grace’s actions. Grace finally escapes the curse of inherited darkness and repression when she confesses her crimes in Chain of Thorns, choosing to throw herself to the mercy of the world and break free of the shackles holding her back, no matter how protective they may have been before.

#grace blackthorn #tatiana blackthorn #the last hours #tlh #chain of thorns #chain of iron #chot #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #gracetopher #the infernal devices #tid #ya fantasy

[alagaesia-headcanons]

@marimo331 Thank you for the prompt!!! The timeline I'm working with is rather different, so I though an AU would be fun for this! I didn't exactly include dragon egg idea, but something along those lines. (also I already broke my resolve to keep these under 1k hhhh I am nothing if not long winded :'V !)

As a vague set up for this AU, the conflict that decimated the old Riders doesn’t go so favorably for Galbatorix and he isn’t able to secure power, so he and the Forsworn don’t last long after the war. When the chance to rebuild the Riders later presents itself via Eragon and Saphira, it doesn’t require the bloodshed it does in canon. There’s more weight on the Riders’ impact on Alagaesia’s cultures and power dynamics.

-

One month ago, after a series of concerning reports from the port city of Reavstone, Orrin contacted Eragon and requested aid for their investigation. A number of sailors- too many to be explained away as a crew that helped themselves to an excess of rum- have told similar tales of damaged ships and lines, snatched glimpses of uncanny creatures in the water, and ghastly sounds echoing in the caves of the eastern cliffs. A few weeks later, Eragon declared that Murtagh and Thorn would meet him at Reavstone in five days.

That should make the day of their arrival today.

Orrin can’t help but tersely wonder if the reason Eragon didn’t come himself is because of the wrong foot Orrin started off on years ago when the issue of the Riders suddenly reared its head after nearly a century of their absence. Eragon is kind hearted and has likely forgiven his past falters, and it’s of little consequence either way since he did provide the help they asked for, albeit not personally. But all the idle waiting leaves his mind drifting down such paths.

Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice at first several raised voices mingle with the cries of seagulls overhead. “Sire,” Graytooth utters, touching his arm once. His guard points up, redirecting his returned attention to the horizon. A glittering spark of red hangs there in the sky.

“Tell Powel to hail them and ask that they land in the north courtyard when they draw near,” he instructs.

More than an hour passes as they close the distance, the buzz throughout the city steadily mounting as they do. When he finally gets a clear view of them, Orrin worries briefly that even the north courtyard might not be big enough, but Thorn lowers himself with remarkably graceful precision, neatly nestling his enormity amidst the buildings of the keep. His ruby hide casts dazzling sparkles all around. He tastes the air primly, then lowers his noble head, observing all of them curiously.

As he does, in a flash of movement between his wings, Murtagh dismounts with an unhesitating leap to the ground. Running a hand fondly along the length of his neck, he makes his way around his dragon and Orrin gets his first look at the second Rider of the new generation.

Only having Eragon as a reference point, he’d pictured Murtagh resembling his half brother, but in the flesh, he is actually quite different. His figure is wiry and angular, at once appearing more lithe while also sharper around the edges. Loose curls of dark hair are half tied up behind pointed ears, a mark of the changes of a Rider, although he clearly hasn’t shared Eragon’s transformation into the spitting image of an elf. Murtagh doesn’t look entirely human, but he’s not sleekly polished in that elven way.

He’s very handsome, in fact. His eyes are clever and the subtle, sly curl of his lips is compelling. He wears a fine, form fitting tunic with sleeves that reach to his elbows, perhaps to better accommodate use of magic. Orrin would think he’s more of an athlete than a warrior if not for his scarlet sword.

Hand on his chest, he bows his head and greets, “Murtagh, at your service.” Then he holds his hand out towards his partner. “And Thorn, at your service.” Thorn pushes a paw forward in such a way that it hinders the other nobles from approaching, something Orrin feels an unexpectedly profound pulse of gratitude for. The dragon chuffs sonorously and blinks at him, and a breath of awe flutters in Orrin’s chest.

“I am honored,” he exhales, after almost forgetting his decorum facing the odd pair. “I am King Orrin, and on behalf of Surda, I want to thank you for providing your help with these unusual troubles.”

“Of course your majesty, the Riders will always serve people’s needs,” Murtagh replies automatically, giving the formalities only a cursory consideration. “I am the Riders’ expert on unusual troubles, after all, and I feel like I’m due to get another one under my belt,” he quips, wryly alluding to his past which Orrin isn’t wholly familiar with, but that he grasps the broad outline of well enough to know ‘unusual’ is an understatement. “Eragon told me what you said. I was impressed by the insight you had on all the reports.”

“Ahh, well,” Orrin fusses his fingertips over the clasp of his cloak. He didn’t realize that’d been passed along. “With Aberon’s library at my disposal, it seemed only right to do a bit of research.” He pauses for one beat, but Murtagh doesn’t interject, watching attentively. “Well- from all the sources I could gather, I’m very skeptical that it could be a Nïdhwal of any kind. It would be far too close to shore and I couldn’t find a single thing that would account for the sounds. One crew had convinced themselves that Ra’zac had made a den in the cliff-” Murtagh hums in his throat, entertained- “and their paranoia was threatening to spread into a panic. Luckily they listened well enough for me to assure them that it can’t be Ra’zac, as they’d never get so close to the sea.”

“Exactly, exactly,” he concurs intently, waving a hand towards him, “because they suffer in damp nests and-”

“They can’t swim,” Orrin finishes, gesturing back. “Right. Old accounts were thorough enough to rule them out easily, but left more to be desired about other creatures. I have a handful of theories on what this could be, but nothing definite.”

Thorn snorts, his breath ruffling Murtagh’s hair. “Thorn’s right, it sounds like you would be quite the asset for figuring this out. Do you plan to be on the ship that’s going to guide us to the cliff side?”

Orrin falters for a moment, taken aback by the prospect, then instinctively glances over at Graytooth. The look he gets in return is faintly exasperated, although not particularly determined to deny him. His guard wontedly remarks, “It would be dangerous.”

But Orrin can’t focus on that, his mind alive with the thought of fresh, open air outside of city walls, escaping the overbearing and ever present pressure of his court, the allure of a meaningful mystery where his curiosity and urge to understand might have a purpose for once. -And having a dragon and his Rider circling overhead! Surely, with them, the danger wouldn’t be so great.

Indeed, Murtagh offers, “We’d do everything we can to see to your safety.”

“...Do you think it’d make any difference? If I were there?”

Murtagh considers him with an even stare. “I think there’s no way it wouldn’t. In my experience, the right companion might make all the difference when it comes to unusual troubles.” The right companion. Orrin struggles to believe he could ever fill such a role. Murtagh tips his head and shrugs, saying, “It’s up to you if that seems wise, though. I can’t say for sure, and there’s only one way to know.”

Scattering the people gathered in the courtyard like a flock of startled sparrows, Thorn rearranges his legs beneath him and lays down, resting his head on his front paws, flicking the tip of his tail. Orrin feels the projected touch of his mind and his instinct to immediately refocus on his mental defenses lurches up, but after a heartbeat, he relaxes and listens to the dragon say, We’d like to hear your theories.

Orrin can’t restrain a small smile, touched. Murtagh shifts his weight and straightens his shoulders. “I’ll tell you what I learned, then. Whatever I can do to keep this danger from harming anyone else, I’ll do it. So- if it might help, I will join,” he vows.

Thorn purrs as Murtagh grins.

#eragon #inheritance cycle #orrin #murtagh #murtagh morzansson #ic thorn #my writing #mxo #murtagh x orrin #the boys get to go on an adventure <3! #the moment orrin smiles he got murtagh thinking 'oh no he is Pretty 😳' #ill start on the next prompt v soon! #(wanted to make a new post instead of reblogging again just for my own organizational purposes)

[loverboy-havocboy]

I'm curious about the Comet & Thorn one!

you picked my favorite one 😭 and the one i hadn't actually written for yet

this is a draft because i did in fact speed write it at work after i got your ask, BUT it's a scene that's been playing on loop in my head for like a month

thorn is very much a big brother/mentor to comet in the aliit series, and comet & thorn is going to be about how that came to be!

scene under the cut:

Comet can't tear his eyes away from the pair as Fives’ hands that have been resting on Thorn’s hips start to slide upward. They creep up underneath the blonde’s shirt, over scars and lithe muscle, pulling it up further as they go. When he raises his arms, Fives pulls the shirt off entirely, tucking it into Thorn’s back pocket and smoothing his curls for him. Thorn laughs brightly and leans back against his husband. Comet swallows thickly and hears Sinker gasp next to him. 

“Half the guys in here are shirtless,” Boost grumbles good naturedly, then plucks at Sinker's mesh top. “And you might as well be.”

And that's true. Thorn is far from the only shirtless man on the dance floor. But that's not why Comet and Sinker are staring. Sinker shakes his head, mumbles something to Boost. Comet hears his quiet oh, but he's distracted. 

When Thorn stretches his arms back to slide his hands into Fives’ curls as they move together, the scars on his chest are unmistakable, even under the shifting colored lights the club is bathed in. 

There's a twinge of pain that Comet doesn't fully understand when he looks at Thorn, but the unease and fear that he's been carrying all night are replaced by a flood of what he can only describe as safety. 

“He's like me?” Comet whispers, mostly to himself. He feels Boost’s hand come to rest on his back and Sinker laces their fingers together to give his hand a squeeze. For the first time tonight, Comet feels like he belongs here.

#my works #aliit au #writing #ask havoc

[oletus-manors-log]

OBSERVER'S NOTE :

“ Due to certain matters, I'd like to thank Taegan Collins (@nice-chiaki) and Samuel Blackwail (@paperbcy) for giving me the means to... Start things off with the poor novelist.

I swear to not write angst unless it's absolutely necessary (and because I also have requests to tend to), but these two have given me the means to... Start things off properly. Enjoy. ”

[ TW.: Major Character Death ; Gore ; Trauma ]

Call of Abyss

The abyss was not one that a man can take on his own.

It's a weird thing, really. The abyss is not one to discriminate those that reside in it, and yet for Orpheus, he found it to be one of the very places where mankind is to be judged in its own eyes.

As he stood by and stared back at the unending darkness, he found himself unable to look away. Why, what he was staring was something no one but himself can understand, and it was almost as though it spoke to him.

" Orpheus... "

Despite the yelling he could hear from those around him, it sounded akin to white noise as the unknown reached out to him, gently grabbing him by the throat.

" Oh, Orpheus... "

Then, it went by to even more parts of himself. Those voices he kept hearing became more and more softer— it was almost harder for him to hear it if it weren't for them yelling, begging for him to look.

Alas, he couldn't look. Rather, he didn't want to look.

It was almost like something was stopping him from doing so.

" Orpheus! Orpheus, wake up! "

He could hardly feel anything in his body as the walls came crashing down, his mind becoming numb with the amount of thorns that began to sink into his skin like knives. He knew in himself that it was wrong, but who was he to indulge the last bits of himself before he's lost humanity?

And yet, before he could go for long, he felt 2 lithe hands yank him from getting too close and deep into its confines and dragged out, making him greet the beaming light—

—and the angered look of one of the survivors he was in a match with. One that he knew awfully well.

"What were you doing in there?!" Lily yelled, sounding angry as she held her pompoms under her arm. "Can't you see that being near him was bad news?! You were like, under it's control and letting him eat at you alive like that!"

The novelist stayed quiet as he heard words(?) come out of her, her voice sounding much like white noise that he hears in his episodes. He could hardly understand what she was saying as he could see the abyss lurking from beneath them, slowly clambering its way up to their legs—

—It'll consume her alive. I need to act quickly.

"—and it's like you forgot we were in a ma--"

"Move out of the way!"

He shoved Lily off to the side, and although she wanted to yell at him again, her eyes widened at the sight of spikes coming up from beneath and striking the heart of the matter.

Orpheus's heart.

All she could do was watch in bated breath as she sees the novelist's body be pierced by multiple abyssal spikes, digging through him and making him bleed. After a while, he seems to lurch and heave, almost like he was alive.

And yet his eyes... Oh, Lily couldn't forget.

His eyes were staring at her.

Boring holes into her like a film that could not be forgotten by many.

Although his body was twisted and contorted to an abomination that she could hardly recognize, she couldn't hear herself screaming as she saw the last remains of the novelist be tossed to a pathetic whelp of mass, guts and blood spewing and spilling absolutely everywhere.

Then, she hears it.

" Lily.... "

The darkness ate away at what semblance she had as she felt paranoia seize her heart, her pompoms laid on the ground with a defeated and muted pomf.

...

Was her surroundings getting darker, perhaps?

Or was it simply her imagination?

Alas, no man can save her, for she has heard it calling for her.

And thus, she reached her hand for the abyss above, unknowing of the fact that it had consumed her from below.

© ᴏʟᴇᴛᴜs-ᴍᴀɴᴏʀs-ʟᴏɢ | 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 ✧ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀʀᴇ | ᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʀɪɢʜᴛғᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀs

#✎ . . . 「 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙂𝙊𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝘿𝙍𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙎 」 ➠ ❝ drabbles ❞ #✎ . . . 「 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙉𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 」 ➠ ❝ Orpheus ❞ #✎ . . . 「 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 」 ➠ ❝ Lily Barriere❞ #identity v #identity v writing #idv #identity v survivor #identityv #identity v orpheus #identityv orpheus #idv orpheus #identity v novelist #idv novelist #identityv novelist #identity v cheerleader #idv cheerleader #identityv cheerleader #identity v lily barriere #idv lily barriere #identityv lily barriere

[mizuki-nautilus]

『 Thorn & Roses 』 - Chapter 1

Reflections of Nostalgia

As she stands before the faintly illuminated mirror, the young woman admires her lithe silhouette and reminisces about the memories of her past. Only moments ago, she had been preparing herself for a lively celebration, adorning herself with a beautiful dress and exquisitely detailed jewellery. With the delicate strokes of a fine brush, she added subtle touches of glamour to her face.

With the passing time, standing before the mirror had become an arduous task, as it had been a while since she had last glimpsed a vision - whether through the looking glass or in her dreams. Yet, being in its presence now filled her with a bittersweet nostalgia, evoking memories of times gone by.

Merely a year ago, [Y/N] was transported into a wondrous realm of magic, where she found herself embroiled in perilous predicaments. As a mere mortal thrust into the midst of enchantment, gaining entry into the mystical world of Night Raven College proved to be an arduous feat, fraught with obstacles and danger at every turn.

Throughout her journey, [Y/N]'s life was repeatedly endangered, from her desperate battles against grotesque ink creatures lurking in the enchanted forest, to the daunting challenge of standing her ground against formidable overblotted mage students. But even in the face of such peril, she refused to falter, her unwavering determination and courage driving her forward towards a destiny that was yet to unfold.

Along the winding path of her magical journey, [Y/N] crossed paths with many kindred friends. One of these was Grim, with whom she shared a strong sibling-like bond that cannot be broken. Despite their occasional quarrels and petty arguments, their affection for each other remained steadfast.

Their relationship is not without its challenges; Grim can be loud, inconsiderate, and prone to throwing tantrums. However, [Y/N] is patient and understanding, knowing that Grim's behavior is simply a part of who he is.

In the mystical realm that [Y/N] had stumbled into, two figures stood out among the rest - Ace and Deuce. Though their initial interactions had been fraught with teasing and squabbles, [Y/N] soon realized that they were fiercely loyal and protective friends.

As they journeyed together, [Y/N] watched as Ace and Deuce matured and evolved, growing alongside her, and forming a deep bond that made her feel at home in this enigmatic world. Despite their seemingly harsh exteriors, they had become steadfast companions, always there to lend a helping hand or offer a word of comfort in times of need. In the end, [Y/N] knew that their friendship was one that would endure, no matter what challenges they might face.

Amid the enchantment and wonder of this mystical realm, [Y/N] encountered countless people who left an indelible mark on her heart. From Vil and Jack, to Epel and Azul, and even Leona, Sebek, and Jamil - each one played a vital role in her journey.

But of all the individuals that [Y/N] had the privilege of meeting, it was Malleus Draconia who held the most significance. Her dear Tsunotarou had captured her heart from the moment they first met, drawing her in with his otherworldly charm and enigmatic aura.

As their path intertwined, [Y/N] found herself growing ever more enamoured with Malleus, awed by his wisdom. She knew, without a doubt, that he was the most important person in her life, and she cherished every moment spent in his presence. For [Y/N], Malleus was not just a friend, but a kindred spirit - a soulmate, whose presence made her feel whole.

Suddenly, a soft, gentle knocking began at the door, followed by a lilting, velvety voice.

"[Y/N], dear. Do you need help with something? You have been in your room for a while and most of your guest are already in the living room"

As memories flooded her mind, time seemed to slip away in an instant, leaving [Y/N] feeling nostalgic and somewhat melancholic. With a concerned expression etched on her face, she became acutely aware of just how much time had slipped by. With swift, determined steps and some unfinished touches, she made her way to the door, eager to see who awaited her on the other side.

"Yes! Vil, I'm sorry my hair was taking me so long!" she expressed as she opened the door.

Vil Schoenheit, the reigning beauty of the academy, had always been an enigmatic figure to [Y/N]. Yet, before she even knew it, they had formed an inseparable bond.

It was truly remarkable how Vil had transformed from an intimidating presence to a safe haven for [Y/N], where she could freely express her innermost thoughts and emotions. Vil's mature and nurturing demeanour provided a much-needed relief in a school filled with immature and unpredictable students.

As [Y/N] opened the door, her eyes were immediately drawn to Vil's impeccable appearance - his hair perfectly combed, his makeup flawlessly applied, and a beguiling fragrance emanating from his person.

She couldn't help but notice the change in Vil's expression, which had shifted from one of calm annoyance to one of genuine concern. As he gently reached out to touch [Y/N]'s face, his voice was laced with tenderness as he asked, "Are you alright?"

The question left [Y/N] feeling perplexed. She had been feeling fine just moments ago, but now, when she tried to speak, she found herself struggling to find the right words.

Vil's mesmerizing amethyst eyes gazed upon [Y/N]'s face as he spoke, noticing the undeniable redness in her eyes and the worried expression on her face. Sensing her struggle to appear composed, he gently asked, "You miss him, don't you?"

Seeing [Y/N]'s hesitation to speak, Vil reassured her, "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. Come here, let me hold you." He then pulled [Y/N] into his warm, comforting embrace, offering his unwavering support.

Time had passed since [Y/N] had last laid eyes on Malleus. Ever since the Overblot incident, memories of him became hazy, like a dream that slips away upon waking. One moment they were trying to soothe his wrath, and the next, [Y/N] was left with a deafening silence that felt unbearable.

Inexplicably, Malleus disappeared from both NRC and [Y/N]'s life, leaving no trace or explanation. Despite her best efforts to appear unbothered and resilient, [Y/N] felt nothing but a hollow ache in her heart.

In moments of solitude, when no one could see her, [Y/N] would look into the mirror and allow her true emotions to surface. The mirror would reflect her teary eyes and trembling lips, revealing the depth of her pain and longing.

In the comfort of Vil's arms, [Y/N] was able to regain her composure. Though still filled with sadness, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. After a few quiet sobs and sniffles, she finally spoke to Vil again.

"Thank you, Vil," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "You always know when I need you the most." She reluctantly broke free from his embrace, her eyes meeting his with a grateful gaze.

As Vil picked up the makeup brush and began to delicately touch up [Y/N]'s appearance, he spoke in a soft and bittersweet tone. "And I'll always be here for you," he whispered, emphasizing the word <<always>> "It's okay to feel sad, my dear. But remember that you have many friends who care for you and will support you." As he finished fixing her hair into an elegant updo, he stepped back to admire his work. "There," he said with a warm smile. "You look as beautiful as ever."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Gracefully late, [Y/N] and Vil descended the stairs and entered the living room of the Ramshackle dorm. Despite its name, the dorm now exuded a warm and welcoming atmosphere, having undergone many transformations over time.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, [Y/N] was greeted with the joyful faces of her friends and their contagious laughter.

On this special day, the air was filled with lively music, sweet melodies that enticed people to dance and sing with joy. Laughter echoed through the halls of the Ramshackle dorm as friends gathered to celebrate.

For a few hours, [Y/N] could forget about the ache in her heart as she danced and sang with her friends. It was a moment of pure happiness, a respite from the worries and troubles of the world.

With a commanding presence, Riddle's voice echoed through the room as he asked the guests to make way for the main event of the party.

"Let it be known that rule #168 of Heartslabyul dorm must be followed with the utmost respect and obedience." he declared. "For it is decreed that the birthday cake shall be cut at precisely 9:41pm, or the offending party shall face the most severe of punishments - OFF WITH THEIR HEAD!!!"

As the frightened students of Heartslabyul made the necessary preparations for the cake cutting, Trey's cheerful voice suddenly filled the room. "Behold, my greatest creation yet!" he exclaimed, making his way across the room and revealing the most exquisite and magnificent birthday cake ever seen. Deuce's voice brimmed with joy as he presented the gift to [Y/N], a token of Heartslabyul's affection for her. "[Y/N]!! This is a special cake we made just for you. We hope you like it!" he said.

Ace's voice chimed in, interrupting Deuce with a playful smirk on his face. "We may have tried to make the cake ourselves, but let's just say our recipe went a little off-kilter. Luckily, Trey came to our rescue and helped us make it perfect. So you have him to thank for this masterpiece."

Amidst the joyous atmosphere of the party, [Y/N] sat at the centre of the table, her eyes fixed on the beautiful birthday cake before her. As she looked around, she saw her dear friends from all the different dorms - Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, and Ignihyde - all gathered together to celebrate her special day.

However, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness as she realized that her friends from Diasomnia were not present at the gathering.

Despite the nagging thought of her missing friends, she took a deep breath and focused on living the moment. Rook's voice rang out over the joyful singing, "Don’t forget to close your eyes and make a wish before you blow your candles!!"

In a moment like this, what wish could [Y/N] possibly make? If the flickering flames of the candle truly held the power to make dreams come true, what should she ask for? To be able to return home safely or to be reunited with her beloved Tsunotarou? The weight of her decision hung heavy on her heart as she closed her eyes and made her wish.

With a deep breath, [Y/N] closed her eyes and made a wish from the depths of her heart. "I wish the universe gives me some signal that Malleus is okay." and blew out the candles in one swift motion.

#diasomnia #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia x reader #disney twst #twistedwonderland #twst wonderland #slow burn

[tare-anime]

Even in such disastrous events, Sylvia must still escort the two lover birds idiots. (AO3)

Kinda a sequel to this

---------

Sylvia Sherwood is a veteran spy. 

Yes, she might have not been in the field for several years ever since she became WISE Handler Ostanian division, but still, she IS a spy who has been trained physically and mentally to prepare herself for any unfavorable conditions. 

Thus, she will NOT scream like some schoolgirl, even when she is being carried bridal style by a younger woman, whose body is smaller than hers.

At most, she will just hold her breath while forcing her erratic heartbeat to stay beating steady, when the lithe woman jumps from one skyscraper to another. 

Wait. 

The Full Metal Lady widens her eyes when she cannot see any other skyscrapers in front of her, and yet, The Thorn Princess doesn't slow down her run. 

In fact, she sped up. (How is THAT even possible???!!)

"Uuuh….. excuse me…."

"Please hold on tight, Ma'am" 

Sylvia instinctively tightens her hold on the younger one's bare shoulder; she might accidentally scratch them. 

"Wait for a second. You don't plan to-....."

Yor leaps. 

KYYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!

.

Sylvia's soul finally returns to her body when Yor put her gently on the bed of a room. 

She is blinking rapidly to assess her location.

The room is clean. Only consist of twin beds, a small table with one chair, a simple wardrobe, and a bathroom. 

"This is an apartment at the border of Berlint."

Thorn Princess answers her silent question when effortlessly lifting the wardrobe, table, and chair to block the door. 

"Lo-.., Twilight prepared this place, and told me to bring you here until he finishes the 'clean up' at your office."

The younger one then retrieves a briefcase and first aid kit box. 

She places the briefcase near her arm, "He also said that you might need this for extra protection, in case I was busy engaging your pursuer." 

A briefcase gun. She nods. 

Of course, Twilight would go to such a length when preparing backup plans. 

Yor then open the first aid kit and kneel near her injured leg and start inspecting it. 

"May I?" 

Sylvia nods, giving her permission to the younger one to remove the makeshift bandages and her stockings.

She hisses upon touch, and immediately understands that she won't be walking for several months ahead. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose. The day has turned worse and worse with each passing minute.

"Ma'am, I think-..."

"Sylvia." 

With a disastrous day such as today, she had enough formality.

"Huh?" 

"You can call me Sylvia, Yor." 

Yor blinks and reluctantly nods, "O-okay. Well, uhh…. It looks like the bullet went through, but it grazed the femur….."

"Fractured bone." 

Yor nods and then gives her a bright smile, "But the fragments are still aligned. That means I can stitch the flesh wounds to slow down the bleeding until the situation is clear and you can get proper medical help."

Ah, such positivity. So cute

Sylvia chuckles. "Don't worry. I've been in a worse situation." 

"Of course," She sees Yor frowns, "But this is still going to hurt."

"I'll live. Please carry on." 

"I'll do it as fast as I can."

She nods her approval, hugs the pillow, and bites on it. 

.

True to her words, the painful process ends fast enough to Sylvia's relief. 

After bandaging the wounds tightly, the Forger's mother then gives her a glass of water which she gulps down hungrily. 

To her surprise, the next thing Yor does is open the bathroom door to retrieve Sylvia's German Shepherd. 

The dog immediately comes to her and licks her hand worriedly. 

Sylvia can't help but chuckle, "Relax boy, Mama will live."

The red-haired woman then turns her attention back to her savior, who currently is sitting stiffly near the door.

Sylvia can see how hard the younger one is to look calm, but honestly, she won't fool anyone with how visible her fidgeting is, keep looking in the direction of the ongoing battles at WISE HQ. 

Wearing emotions in her sleeves, huh? I wonder how she can keep her job a secret from anyone up until now. Me included. Sylvia shakes her head in disbelief.

She then clears her throat, "Thank you so much for your help. I'll be fine now. You can go help your husband." 

Yor's head snaps at her, and she stammers, "Uuh… but Lo-.., I mean, Twilight asked me to guard you."

Sylvia clicks her tongue.

That foolish idiot!!

She shakes her head and sighs, "That idiot just doesn't want to see you get hurt."

"Huh?" 

Upon receiving questioning looks from a pair of ruby orbs, Sylvia pinches the bridge of her nose again. She can feel the tingling feeling at her temple, a sign of upcoming migraine that has nothing to do with the immense pain of fractured bone, or blood loss. 

These two really are going to be the end of me.

"Tell me Yor, did Twilight specifically tell you to take the longer route and bring me to this place via that specific window?"

Yor nods.

"That means he has done his meticulous preparations to distract the enemies. Aside from false routes, there must be numerous traps surrounding each entrance; if not on the whole building itself; and cover any access to come to this room. Trust me. This place is the safest place in the whole city."

It needs several seconds for Yor to chew the information before a realization sinks in and she starts to scowl. 

Sylvia raises her hand in a calming motion, "Ah, but please don't kill him. I think I understand his reasons."

Yor mutters through gritted teeth, "He promises to stop keeping things to himself." 

"Please be patient with him, Yor. He….." She sighs, "I can still remember his devastated face clear as day, when he tore this city brick by brick searching for you, during the war of your assassins organization."

"But that was different."

"Was it?" She challenges the assassin, "Didn't you quite literally throw your body in the line of harm so that he can live?"

She sees the younger one inattentively caress the ribs under her left breast, most definitely the location of her mortal wound. 

Sylvia smiles somberly, "You know that he has lost everything in his past, Yor. He will break beyond repair if he loses you. So please be patient with him."

She sees Yor frown before muttering, "Sorry…"

The elder one chuckles, "Don't. I guess that's why both of you are meant for each other." 

Sylvia sees how Yor is still conflicted though.

Oh heaven, have mercy. Do I really have to chaperone these two again?

She takes a deep calming breath, "On second thought, I think I understand why that idiot agent of mine wants to keep you away from our business. It is already a disgrace for us to be blindsided by this typical trojan horse scheme. Asking for help from an enemy country assassin would make us lose our dignity completely."

"Uum…. Actually, Shopkeeper said that Garden is only returning the favor," Yor chimes in. 

"Hmm…. Twilight was doing a solo act at that time, though that information is classified," The elder one starts to talk under her breath, "But, drastic times call for drastic measures. I need my loyal agents to stay alive to show them how a real spy works. If these bastards want to play rough, then I'll gladly show them why I got the name Full Metal Lady."

She then returns her attention to the assassin in front of her, "And there are your justifications." 

When Yor blinks confusedly, Sylvia takes another deep breath, "I'm asking your help to bring my loyal agents safely from the commotions at the HQ; including your husband; so that I can have a proper revenge."

Yor's face immediately brightens and she salutes, "On it, Ma'am!" 

The assassin immediately stands up. 

Sylvia thinks that Yor will bolt to help Twilight right away, but she is wrong.

First, Yor rearranges the makeshift barricades to block the one and only safe entry of the room. Second, she ensures Sylvia has the basic needs within arm's reach: energy bars, water, and even urinals and wipes (did Twilight really prepare that?!). Third: she makes sure the German Shepherd has enough kibbles and water and also prepares folded sheets for the dog to rest. 

Yor double-checks everything, making sure all is prepared accordingly, and that Sylvia is comfortable in her current immobile position. Only after that then she perches at the window ready to depart. 

Sylvia is actually quite amazed. 

"I'll be back as soon as possible," Yor looks at her. She pauses for a while before giving the Handler a grateful smile, "And thank you so much, Ms. Sylvia." 

She then jumps down from the 3rd story building.

Sylvia blinks astonishingly before chuckling. This woman is not as gullible as people believe, huh?

A whining from her right makes the red-haired lady look down, and pet her dog. 

"Yes boy, she is your friend, Bond's master."

Another whining.

"Yep. One of a kind indeed."

Sylvia now understands why Twilight falls head over heels for her. 

As he should.

--------

So, I'm thinking the internal conflict in WISE is just like the internal conflict that happened in SHIELD during Captain America Winter Soldier. There might be infiltration from the enemy's agency, or SSS, or just some greedy people within WISE that have become ambitious. *shrugs*

And yes. I hc Sylvia will always get a headache because these two lover birds are idiots. But she loves them nonetheless. I once wrote a one-shot exploring this hc

These two lovely fics also share similar hc:

A case study of mr. Fishy

It’s just the light coming on

Totally love it!

#spy x family #sxf fic #sxf drabble #sylvia sherwood #Handler #yor forger #thorn princess #loid forger #agent twilight #twiyor #fluff #comedy #sisterly bond

[endlessly-cursed]

Founder’s Era- Luxia Thorne

"𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨, 𝙄 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠, 𝙗��𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢."

Name: Luxia Ash Thorne 

Nicknames: Lu 

Birthdate: 1st of July, 964

Zodiac Sign: Cancer 

Personality Type (MBTI): TBD 

Blood Status: Pureblood 

Nationality: British 

Physical Appearance

Hair: Black brown 

Eyes: Black brown 

Height: 1.70m 

Weight: 65kg 

Body Type: Tall, lithe 

Skin Tone: Fair 

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): Marks on her forearms from falling into a rosebush 

Background

Hometown

Luxia grew up within the wizard Saxon nobility, in luxury and her Saxon home would be the first traces of Thorne Abbey. 

Family

Mother: Felicity of Wales 

An intelligent, wise, rebellious and intelligent woman, she was ahead of her time and unafraid of speaking her mind, insisting that her only child would be treated like the heiress she was despite of her sex. She married Doyle out of convenience, but the pair grew to appreciate one another. 

Father: Doyle of Anbach 

A man of war who had a soft spot for his girls, he was teased for indulging his wife and daughter, though he didn’t care much for it and was often on crusades and at court of the highest-paying nobleman until Godric Gryffindor, a young but outstanding wizard, offered to take Luxia under his wing and he accepted. He never got to know their relationship together, for he died of an episod of gout when Luxia was 15. 

Career

15-21: Apprentice of Godric Gryffindor 

22-32: Duelling class 

33-Death: Crusader 

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Being where the battle is thickest, Godric’s wellbeing, being free 

Strengths: Brave, bold, corageous and friendly 

Weaknesses: Hot-tempered, stubborn and has jealous 

Stressed: During feasts and novelties like that 

Calm/Comforted: Training for the next battle 

Favorites

Colors: Red, gold, white and yellow 

Weather: Sunny and hot 

Hobbies: Sword-fighting, archery, poetry, reading and politics 

Fashion: Luxia dresses with simple dresses and rarely has a veil around her, finding it restrictive and far too uncomfortable to fight with. She does have a helmet that has a veil that covers her hair when it’s loose, but it normally is not. 

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Godric Gryffindor ( 980-985 ) @hphmmatthewluther​ 

Godric and Luxia were of similar ages and both were brave warriors and remarkable wizards, and both they developed feelings for one another. Godric’s sweet and gentlemanly manners quickly betwitched Luxia, as well as he was taken by her Herculean bravery and the fact that she always challenged him, which he loved: a challenge. They were together for five years, planning to marry after the Mage Wars were over. 

However, when she found out that he have had another relationship resulting in a son during those years, she instantly flipped, having their most severe argument, where Luxia broke things off and vowed to never be alone with him in a room. After Hogwarts was founded, they mended things and even supported Godric’s relationship with Rowena, whom she had a deep respect. Luxia went to found her own family, which still prevails today. 

Evander Mountmorris ( @foundersofhogwartslegacy​ ) 

Evander joined Godric’s forces soon enough, given the brewing war happening. Luxia, as Godric’s second in command (and after ensuring she was not bearing his child just in case) trained the best promises, and Evander was among them. 

The two of them had a special emotional connection, and although Luxia was prickly and reserved at first, something about Evander made her open up and give love a second chance. They spent what was considered as a long engagement before marrying after Luxia was sure she was making the right choice this time. They had three children together: Kenna, Kemina and Leonidas. Their line would result in the Thorne family through their son Leonidas. 

Friends: Ashleigh of Gwent ( @catohphm​ ) 

Luxia and Ashleigh both had goals in common and bonded over many hobbies of the time. 

[MORE TBD] 

Osmund of Worchester 

He was the husband of Ashleigh and befriended him through her, also enjoying his company. 

Rivals: Brunhilda of Cologne 

They often differ in many things and are each other’s opposites, not to mention that Bruna often ridicules Godric, and Luxia is the first one to spit back and they’ve often duelled for each other’s honours. They never really make up. 

Trivia

Luxia is the ancestor of Marcellus and Semele Thorne 

She was given the nickname ‘Rose With the Thickest Thorns’ for surviving unscathed a fall to a thick rosebush 

She was an advocate for women’s rights of the era and often persecuted men who abused their wives and daughters, slaughtering them 

She never liked being subjected to the highest bidder’s will and was key on Godric joining Rowena’s cause 

She was responsible of hiding the Gryffindor sword so only a worthy member would find it and weild it 

She carved a rose with thick thorns on the Gryffindor tower for her descendants to find 

She can swear like a sailor in Byzantine Greek and Latin, as well as English 

After ten years of teaching, she decides to go on crusades for a better purpose and gets to live to the age of 77, outliving most of the founders 

There is a portrait of her in the Gryffindor common room where she weilds the Gryffindor sword while having the personal emblem of Godric, a symbol of their deep love for one another 

#founders era #hogwarts founders #oc: luxia thorne #godric gryffindor #godric gryffindor x oc #godric x luxia #rowena ravenclaw #character profile #oc sheet

[holycorrupt]

I wrote a silly little dabble about my Tav x Astarian and debated posting it but ah .. you live once lol

I did not proof read this lol

600~ words /General/ Fluff (?)

When you spend the majority of your days trekking through deep forests and scrambling up steep rocky Cliffsides, you're bound to get a scrape or two in your time.

Minor cuts and bruises that a potion or healing spell would be wasted on fixing. It's good to let the body do its own healing sometimes! Or at least that was Helios' excuse when he stumbled straight into a thick bramble of inch long thorned black berries. He had been trying to gather a couple of handfuls to share amongst his companions as a late afternoon snack. It was rather embrassing actually for the paladin! The nerve of the vines for slicing up his arm!

So he ignored Shadowheart and Gales kind offers to patch him up real quick with their magic and decided he shouldn't waste his own spells on himself just in case of a sudden ambush or more major injury comes along.

At least the berries were sweet and plump.

However, there was someone else who had an issue with his decision to simply allow his blood to leak freely down his forearm.

"That's it! I can't walk behind you any longer, you big oaf!"

Astarian's strides came to a complete halt, his lithe hands reaching out to grab Helios by the arm.

Helios pauses as well, looking down at the much shorter man.

"Oh... are you hungry, love?" He tilts his head, the sunlight catching his eyes just right that you could tell the ever slight difference in color between his eyes.

Gale's eyebrows shoot up, and he opens his mouth like he's about to make a snide joke but quickly shuts his trap at the pointed look that Shadowheart gives him. They not so subtlety easedrop instead.

Astarian snorts and rolls his free hand flippantly.

"Oh yes, you are so sweet, darling! but I'm not that desperate for blood that I'm going to start licking your arm like some dog...who knows where it's been" He feins a disgusted shiver. Instead, he reaches into his pack and pulls out a small jar and a rag.

Red eyes intently work on their task of cleaning away the blood from the wound, giving special care to even mop away all the blood that was slowly drying down by Helios' wrist.

After the arm was clean, he swiped a finger in the jar and spread a thick gelly like layer over the wound. Whatever was in the jar seemed to do the trick in creating a barrier, and Helios was bleeding no longer.

"Oh my Star, thank you!"

Helios beams as bright as the sun, chuckling at the way Astarian rolls his eyes warmly at the silly pet name. He was good at dishing them out himself but not so good at having them shot back at him.

"Yes, yes, now you can stop smelling so delicious and distracting..." The vampire smirks glancing over at their other party members doing a terrible job if looking like they weren't watching the couple.

"OK shows over, come on chop, chop we have places to be"

Astarian steps quickly ahead, long legs making fast work of the path ahead of them, forcing everyone else to rush to catch up. It's not a good idea to split up the party after all.

Helios still ends up taking the rear, glancing at his arm. He takes a finger to the edge of some of the healing substance and brings it to his nose.

Ah! It smelled exactly the same as when he would awake in the morning after telling Astarian he could feed off of him... hm... that might explain why the bite marks never seemed that prominent. He smiles to himself.

It smells like Astarian.

#bg3 #dabble #astarian #tav #fanfic #this is so short and silly but i wrote it in a sitting LOL #gale and shadowheart are here breifly too #baulders gate 3

[avenger09]

Aspect Eikons

Eikons who embody not the eternal elements as the eight do, but instead are born from the collective concepts which have manifested in mankind. Strangly those conjured by humanity are just as potent as those seeded by the divine.

The Knights of the Round: Eikon of Valor

The dauntless paladin, clad in brilliant armor adorn with a red cape. Said to be the spirit of a legendary and tragic warrior king, able to summon the enchanted sword he wielded in life, and the shades of his fellowship of knights, as devoted to their liege in death, as he was to the ideals of justice he aspired to, even if it brought him personal tragedy. It is believed the Eikon resonates strongly with those who likewise accept the burden's a life of selfless leadership may wrought.

Diablos: Eikon of Blood

A lithe winged-demon with fanged teeth frozen in a sinister grin wielding a tall pitchfork. Though the burden of killing is something all things living must contend with when survival is at stake, Diablos represents those who took sadistic satisfaction in the violent demise of others. The red tinted claws of its elongated arms, a twisted reflection of the countless bloodstained hands of its dominants, be they bedevilled unfortuantes, unable to hold out agianst their bloodlust, or those who surrender freely, being as dead to the pain of their fellows as they are to the ending of their lives.

Sylph: Eikon of Compassion

An otherworldly yet undeniably beautifull fae being with the wings of a butterfly. Born out of humankind endless acts of self-sacrifice and comfort which persist even in the darkest of times, or in direct defiance of them. Sylph can bring even the most infirmed of people back from thr brink, and call upon the fawna of nature to heal the needy as well as disarm the malicious. For, much like a flower, despite her delicate appearances, even she may bare poison and thorns to protect.

Alexander: Eikon of Perseverance

The impervious bastion. Perhaps the strangest of the Eikon's, rather than a dominant transforming into an empowered being like the others, the great fortress is instead summoned around the dominant, who can then command the flying complex from within a keep deep in the centre, through will alone, whether by mustering its many fortifications to protect any they wish to shelter within their domain, or unleash a barrage of fire and metal upon their impertinent foes.

By all reckoning, Alexander represents mankinds abilty to endure and adapt to even the harshest of times, to turn hostile environments into mighty shelters that persevere for ages to come, manifesting in either those who understand the important role community and cooperation play in these endeavours, or those willing to shun all else for survivals sake.

#Ff16 #eikons #Summons #final fantasy #final fantasy xvi #Knights #devil #knights of the round table #Diablos #Sylph #Alexander #ffxvi #fanfiction #Fanfic

[nubiengoddess32]

Posting a little teaser to my first Berserk Wip. I usually write DB but after falling in love with Berserk again, I had to write something for them.

This is a modern au GutsxCasxGriff story with them as a triad and if anyone has read my DB stuff you know it will be sexy. But of course this is safe part😉 Enjoy🥰

"Untitled"

‘Hot’ was the first word that came to mind as Casca peeled her eyes open. She knew the room itself was cool. That was evident from the soft wurr of the AC and the suns absence behind the closed blinds. No, her dilemma came from the two bodies wrapped around her.

The hard lithe body at her back generated a gentle warmth that soothed the anxiety creeping in her heart. A long toned arm squeezed her waist while wisp of his wavy platinum blond hair graced her cheek. She felt the easy rise and fall of his chest as it massaged her back and little breaths ruffling the short dark curls at her nape.

His presence wasn’t really a surprise. Griffith had always made his desire for her clear, and with the events of the past few months, it was only a matter of time before she finally tumbled into his waiting grasp.

What gave her pause was the wall of flesh blocking her vision. Unlike the svelt form behind her, this behemoth encompassed them both. His heavy muscular arm was draped over her hip and, from it’s slanted position, she figured his large hand had anchored itself to Griffiths ass. The bicep of his other arm served as her pillow and his oversized calf was tangled between her much smaller feet.

It was the searing heat of his huge body that burned her skin and left her breathless. At some point during the night her hands had taken purchase of his wide back. As if her fingers needed to feel him. To trace the dips and curves of his body. To explore the taunt smooth skin mixed with rough patches of healed tissue.

She told herself that it was due to his overwhelming size. There was no getting away from the hard abs that teased her nipples or the massive chest that beckoned her lips. Let alone the dick, which still intimidating in it’s softened state, had found it’s resting place atop her curls. Even his deep masculine scent made her dizzy.

Glancing down at their crossed limbs, she marveled at the contrast between her two lovers. The delicate fair skin of the man who’d made the sweetest love to her and the scarred sun kissed giant that burned her body with a passion she couldn’t explain. Both men lay sleeping and curled around her small deep mocha frame.

Remembering the way she cried their names in pleasure just hours ago, Casca closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Guts chest.

'Guts.'

She always knew that Griffith would be a constant in her life. A calculating man like him would never readily release something he deemed as his.

Casca was well aware how twisted that seemed, but the desire in his eyes and underlying sweetness had capture her heart. She couldn’t break away, or rather, she didn’t want to.

But fucking Guts? He’d never been anything but a thorn in her side. Brash and overconfident with a mountain of slick comments ready to fire her way. All they’d ever done was argue, and the revelation that he’d also taken a spot in Griffiths bed just made it worse.

It didn’t make sense. She had no doubt that Griffith wanted both of them. He’d been enamored with the big lug since he first laid eyes on him. But when had she let him in? How could she let herself get involved with both men? Now, here she lay, enveloped in a warmth that terrified her.

Before the crushing thoughts could close in on her, she felt the arm over her hip shift and a large callused hand caress her back. When she peeked through her lashes, a warm brown eye gazed back with a knowing look. The right eye he’d lost years before was closed and that stupid grin she hated had softened his permenent scowl.

Without saying a word, he leaned down and rubbed his nose across her forehead and sighed. As if he was silently telling her to stop thinking.

Seconds later another set of lips brushed across her shoulder. The loving gesture of both men washing away the fear and confusion lapping at her heart. Their silent words enforcing what didn't need to be said.

She was safe.

As soft tanned lips captured hers in a sweet kiss, Casca allowed herself to see the truth. She knew how it all started. The day fate had forced all three together. The day she almost lost life.....

#berserk #gutsca #Guts x casca x griffith #casca x griffith #guts x griffith #fanfic #teaser

[themadlu]

Of Songs and Stars

Valentine's gift for @spin-birdie - I hope you like it, and that Thorn's portrayal is up to standard!

TW: None

It felt too good to be true. The sun shining, the birds chirping and all of ‘nature’s creation’ (boy, Halsin was contagious) teeming with renewed, incredulous optimism. The battle won, goblins sent packing, suddenly the refugee’s hope to reach Baldur’s Gate didn’t seem that far-fetched. 

Take that, Astarion. 

Thorn glanced the vampire’s way, only to see him besieged by a horde of little tieflings, all eager for him to teach his unparalleled sharpshooting skills. If the look on his face was any indication, he was a pixie hair’s breadth away from using one of the little rascals as a target for demonstration. Thorn started heading their way (best not to kill the people they just saved), when a voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“Hero! I for one don’t know how we could ever repay you for what you did today.” Zevlor grasped at the bard’s shoulders with the vigour of someone who cheated death. In a way they all had. “I can scarcely believe it,” he continued, “the threat is gone and the road awaits. Baldur’s Gate awaits! And all thanks to you.” The friendly pat he gave on Thorn’s back almost had him spit out his lungs. 

“Well, ehghem,” he coughed as he tried to regain some sort of composure, “I appreciate it, truthfully, but it was hardly a solo effort. I couldn’t have done it without my companions and your people. You all deserve a chance at freedom.” A scoff resonated in the air, signalling Astarion’s disapproval, and Thorn rolled his eyes affectionately. 

Bloody eavesdropper. 

“Although, if you were amenable to sharing a drink when we meet in the city, I wouldn’t refuse. Gods know wine tastes foul when one has death or worse on his mind.” The bard exhaled dramatically and craned his neck heavenwards, yelping when a fit of pain jolted through him. The battle adrenaline was fading and his body was sorely complaining for its misuse. Suddenly the prospect of lounging with a glass of good wine seemed ideal.

“That can, and should, be arranged, my friend! We’ll join you at your camp tonight for a well-deserved celebration!” A smile graced Zevlor’s bruised face. “Still, I wish we could do more to show our gratitude. I’m afraid this is all we could find,” he said, offering a half-full backpack of rations. 

Thorn offered a sympathetic smile.“A night surrounded by friendly faces and wine—what more could I ask? Plus, I can already hear stories of our indomitable spirit being told for centuries on end!” he added with a flourish of the hands.  

Zevlor had just set off to inform the others of the celebration plans when a shiver ran down Thorn’s spine. 

“Well darling, don’t tell me you actually believe half the gibberish you said,” Astarion’s smooth voice closed in, his cool breath in his ear. “I understand your call is to entertain, but even you must know these refugees would have been useless without us. And we wouldn’t have bothered in the first place if not for all your sweet yapping.”

“W-well—” 

The vampire often managed to leave Thorn speechless, and that was a feat in and of itself. It also annoyed the bard to no end. He was a good flirter! He knew he was! One doesn’t become a bard without a propensity for sweet talking, but Astarion’s charm was otherworldly and it would have put most seasoned poets to shame. The memories of the first (and only) night they shared together also had a tendency to pop up in Thorn’s mind whenever Astarion was near, and that didn’t help his already tied tongue. 

A chuckle left the vampire’s mouth. “Worry not dear, I see tiredness must be getting to you. Why don’t you take a rest before the big event, and I will see you tonight.”

Astarion brushed a lithe finger on Thorn’s shoulder and he shuddered. 

A sultry whisper, “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?” 

And he left. 

Fuck me. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The party was surprisingly good. Thorn ate, chatted, danced and now he was singing along with Alfira, composing woes and tadpoles forgotten for a moment. 

It was when a familiar shiver ran down his spine that he spotted ruby eyes studying him from afar. Thorn made sure to sing a verse in honour of his vampiric ardour in battle and was rewarded with an uncharacteristically unattractive look of disgust. He simply raised his wine glass in response. Gods, he missed the stage. 

Tune finished, the bard beelined for the familiar red tent.

A blood-sucking elf with a penchant for red—ah, how on the nose. 

“Hello,” he bowed a little when he got close and flopped on the pillow next to his beau, “here’s a sight for sore eyes. How is my favourite vampire doing?” 

Astarion frowned in jest and Thorn internally celebrated. He had the upper hand for now. He managed not to make a fool of himself on the spot. 

“I’m the only vampire you know, darling,” Astarion huffed. “Wait, am I?”

Thorn couldn’t contain his chuckle. Surprising, how his undead companion—lover?—could switch from seductor extraordinaire to wet kitten in the blink of an eye. He looked younger, lighter, so unlike the skilled but conflicted lover of their first tryst. He felt a pang of affection. 

“Of course you are, and even if I knew others, you’d always be my favourite.”

Was that a light blush gracing those pale cheeks? 

The thought it was his own blood making it visible did something to Thorn. He survived a deadly fight after days of toiling after goblins and other monstrosities and was now standing side by side with a marvellous person he was getting rapidly fond of. Inspirational might it all be for his bardic career, exhaustion burrowed deep in his bones. 

“What is my attention-loving treat thinking, mh?” Astraion slithered towards Thorn, gracefully pushing him down on the fluffy pillows. He placed his lips over recently-healed bite marks, licking the area with his tongue. 

A strangled noise escaped the bard’s mouth. If this were just a one-time romp he would gladly let him continue with his ministrations and burn into the mind-blowing sex that would follow, but Thorn cared for Astarion. Cared enough to know he was deflecting the hint of genuine affection with practised seduction. The realisation flashed through his mind and heart at the same time, and Thorn’s hand cupped the vampire’s cheek, gently lifting his head from his neck. 

Confused eyes stared, and another wave of affection surged through him and he giggled, causing even more confusion in the vampire on top of him. 

“I don’t reckon I want that tonight, dеаrest,” Thorn smiled, nuzzling into Astarion’s clavicle. 

“What? Oh—I wasn’t going to bite, darling. On my honour, the only thing on my mind is depraved, carnal lust.”  

Astarion’s purr was very convincing, but recent near-death experiences and the wine had made Thorn crave more meaningful connections. Especially with someone he cared about. 

He had a hunch the vampire wouldn't be easily convinced with words—he didn’t trust artists by default—so he resorted to gingerly lowering the head of curls on his chest. He smiled into them dreamily while wrapping his arms around a slim torso. 

Astarion was frozen in place, a fearsome predator trapped by his prey. “What are you—oh”

Thorn’s fingers started carding through white locks and the vampire became almost putty in his care. 

“Your hair is so majestic,” he mumbled sleepily, “it looks like the snowy peaks of the Neverwinter mountains.”

A little scoff puffed on his skin. “Bards,” grumbled Astarion, but it had no bite. “If you must be so unbearably cliche, keep my name out of your ballads, thank you very much.”

“You don’t mean it. You love being flattered.”

“Mhm, I’ll settle for shallow praise when it’s decent.” 

The lull of sleep was becoming irresistible for Thorn, comforted as he was by the lithe wait and familiar chatter of the elf on top him.

He cleared his throat dramatically.

“Oh Star, light of lights, thou who shinest brighter than sun itself, how I long to caress your snowy tresses and sing of your rose-red eyes—ghgh!”

A hand shot to the bard’s mouth paired with a disjointed grumble. “Years of torture, and I don’t remember the last time my ears suffered this much. Gods, how did you make a living—ah!” 

Thorn’s tongue licked his hand and Astarion couldn’t contain a very undignified shriek. 

“What the hells?!” Another lick and a giggle. The bard was now sporting a shit-eating grin, not even a hint of repentance on his features. Astarion thought him beautiful. And annoying. A lethal combination.

“C’mon mister vampire,” yawned Thorn, “this most excellent artist needs some beauty sleep. Not everyone is as lucky as you, perfect looks and all…” His voice was already muddled with sleep, eyes drifting shut and body nestled into the pale elf’s. “Night night, splendour.”

Within seconds, light teasing turned to steady snoring. Astarion let out a chuckle, mask slipping slightly now his companion’s attention was wandering the dreams plane. 

“Good night, my questionable, splendid artist.”

#astarion fanfiction #astarion x oc #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 valentines #oc tav

[full-loup]

Shelf On the Elf

The dark elf propped herself against her staff as she finally crested the hill. Ordinarily the slight incline wouldn't have given the once lithe woman trouble, but that was before her body and fitness had been stolen from her.

As her breathing only became more strained, she knelt carefully towards the ground, all too aware that if she wasn't cautious she might never be able to lift her bulk from the earth again. The girthy rolls of her belly and back shifted against one another obscenely as she maneuvered her corpulent body into a seated position, her bloated buttocks spreading across the dry, cracked ground. Her ass seemed one of the hardest areas hit by the wretched curse she'd been saddled with, an impression barely helped by the tiny thong that did little to cover it. The garment had already been skimpy when she was thin, but at that point her scantily spare armor had given her the advantage of ease of movement, something that was lost completely thanks to the rolls and folds of flesh that now weighed her down. Now the clothing she wore did little but remind her of just how massive she was becoming as the leather chafed and pinched against her slowly but steadily bloating form.

"Damn you witch…" The elf grunted between wheezing breaths as she continued to rest her clumsy, heavy body.

There were so few dark elves left in the world, and at first glance the woman's predicament would seem to have left her worryingly vulnerable as she traveled these dangerous roads. The slight trembling of the nearby thorn bushes and the low growls and shining sets of eyes that emanated from their shadowed tangles would hint otherwise however, the dark elf's greatest strength, her command over the mightiest beasts of the wild, remaining firm even if the same couldn't be said for her body…

She had hoped that the two muscular panthers that she traveled with would have been more than enough to handle the old hag that had tried to scam her out of her purse of gold. Unfortunately, as so often happens in this world, magic has a way of not playing fair. Before her pets could even strike, the witch had vanished into the cold night, but not before leaving a most wretched hex upon the skinny elf… one that would make her little more than a parody of her species' graceful athleticism.

The dark elf beastmaster hadn't bothered with finding the witch at first, the nature of the curse upon her so insidiously slow-acting that nothing had seemed wrong at first. As the days had passed however and her body had begun to engorge ceaselessly, it became clear to the elf that she'd been burdened with a terrible and inevitable demise…

Gritting her teeth sharply, the woman pushed herself again to her feet using her crystal staff, her knees trembling as she did so. Moving about was getting harder by the day, and the beastmaster was running out of time. She needed to find the witch soon, maybe beg for her forgiveness and the removal of this terrible spell. If she didn't find her soon, then she might become too fat to move, perhaps even too fat to breed. There were so few of her kind left now, and for her bloodline to fall to such an underhanded hex would have been a failure much too humiliating for her to stomach…

The Dark Elf Beastmaster from Dragon's Crown, except she is very fat!

#weight gain