a.l. thorne, they/them, writer of queer fantasy and erotica, both fanfic and original-flavour. follows from @thespacelizard. tag & ask game friendly! this blog mostly runs on a queue. (banner art by @rukafais)
hello (again) writeblr! i decided to make a new intro that has all my current wips on it, since i have way more than when i first started out on here.
about me
I go by space, my pronouns are they/them, and Iām in my third decade of existence, which is absolutely wild. Iāve been writing for most of it, so I like to think Iām pretty decent
I write mostly fantasy and erotica (sometimes at the same time), both original and fanfiction, and all of it's queer
You can find my work on my AO3 here, crossposted to my neocities here, and under my snippets tag
Iām open to tag and ask games, and my inbox is currently open to anything as well. I donāt always reply the fastest, but Iāll get to it eventually! (I donāt take part in chain asks, so please donāt send me them)
I use obsidian.md for all my writing, and itās my favourite notes app ever, so I also talk about that occasionally. The tag for it is here.
my main goal is to actually finish some damn books and also to inflict my OC brainrot upon people. so far the second one is the only thing thatās actually happened, but i live in hope
My current wips are Chronicles of Valloroth (Crowned Prince being book one), Obedience, Obsession, and clawsāsummaries and links for all four are under the cut!
this is my writing sideblog, you can find my main @thespacelizard, and i follow/like from there
tag directory is here
current wips
Chronicles of Valloroth
ā Genre: Fantasy Adventure
ā Features: Queer cast, found family, A Whole Entire Dragon, magical mishaps, The Mere Concept of Doing The Right Thing, a grumpy assassin, a sparkly mercenary, knock-off tieflings, a handsome prince (heās gay), more banter than your average dungeons and dragons campaign
ā Status: Book One: second draft complete|| Book Two: rough draft complete || Book Three: outlining
ā One Sentence Summary (Book One): A runaway prince seeks freedom in a new world and must find a way to convince a rag-tag group to defeat an ancient dragon, all whilst he is being hunted by a band of mercenaries and an infamous assassin.
š Features: a variety of BDSM scenarios, one closed off wizard dom, one enthusiastic nerdy sub, weird uses for dnd spells, a painful amount of pining, somehow; worldbuilding, emotional slow burn, as much self indulgence as I can possibly fit in a fanfic series
š Status: Arcs 1-3 are complete (read on AO3 here, or my neocities here). The first book of Arc 4, The Perils of Wanting is complete! (you can read it all here.) The second book of Arc 4, A Question of Trust, is on its fourth draft/in revisions.
š One Sentence Summary: A D/s m/m series featuring two wizard boys, the kinky magic they get up to, and the feelings they definitely donāt have for each other.
š Series Tag: obedience fic blogging (it began on my main, so the tag there has more snippets)
Obsession
š· Genre: War of the Spider Queen/Forgotten Realms fanfiction, also Erotica, Horror and a smidge of Dark Romance
š· Features: OC/canon, a nightmare transmasc wizard boy, obsession, stalking, jealousy, violent impulses, dubious consent, possessiveness, evil gender dysphoria, incest, gore, the inherent horror of Having a Body, and occasionally actual school things happening at Sorcere
š· Status: Ongoing serial, which you can read on AO3 here, or my neocities here
š· One Sentence Summary: Pharaun Mizzrym is everything to Vizaeth Thaezyr. Heāll do anything for himāeven if Pharaun doesnāt know it yet.
š· Series Tag: obsession fic blogging (it also began on my main, so check the tag there for additional content!)
i'm almost halfway through monika kim's new book and ohhh my god, she has written the most skin crawlingly gross incel secondary narrator. perfectly captured self-entitled, creepy weirdo, i hate him.
and the main narrator walks an excellent line between engendering sympathy and making me want to shake her. stop being a doormat, dahye!! stand up for yourself girl!!
Forgotten Realms | E | Vizaeth/Zeth'rinn | Wordcount 1565
Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Transphobia, Bad Sex, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, not so much a hookup as a hatecrime, the transphobia is coming from inside the house, Grief, Angst, Coughing Up Blood, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
Summary:
Pharaun is dead, Vizaeth is miserable, and Zethārinn is a pretty, drunk distraction from grief and the taste of blood.
[ID - a decorative divider]
Memory, or perhaps instinct, guides Vizaethās exhausted steps as he stumbles into the tavern with the taste of Pharaunās flesh on the back of his tongue. Lost months ago he was brought here as a gift, a thing of beauty and an object of pleasure, granted a public affectionānow heās alone with a stomach full of mangled innards and traces of the Demonwebs clinging to his skin.
Vizaeth finds the same seat he claimed when Pharaun led him here and collapses into it. Red mist coils faintly from his arms, full of ghostly spiders. His hair hangs lank and bloody around his face, and he tucks a tangle of strands behind his ear with a shaking hand. A clot of gore catches under his nails. He flicks it to the floor.
āYou look like youāve had a worse day than me,ā a voice beside him slurs. āFancy a drink?ā
Itās a young male. Hair shaved into webs on the sides, dark makeup smeared over eyes and lips, an outfit that speaks of expense and taste gone spiralling down the drain over the course of the evening. Heās pretty. Heās paying.
A wild magic sorceress born to a house of wizards, unwanted and disdained, until her pain brings her into Lolthās embrace.
[ID - a decorative divider]
The magic that blooms with her adolescence is unwelcome in the House of Tāsonri. Untrained, unpredictable, unsightlyāburnt hands, broken plates, shattered windows. Mother snaps outĀ careless girl! and thoughtless child!; sisters sneer useless and talentless and disgrace behind Arcanum-trained hands.
And Zeerithāmagicless, forgotten Zeerithāsalves her burns and repairs the plates and sweeps up the glass without a word. He has nothing, what she has isnāt worth having, and so together they are less than any Tāsonri should be.
If sheād been the eldest, maybe it wouldnāt have mattered.
She is not the eldest. She could have been, had fate twisted in her favour, but why would it? Sheās never had any accommodations. Tāsonris donāt need accommodations.
Tags: Trans-masc familiar/Cis woman witch, Magical Genital Alteration, Dom/sub, Dom Bottom/sub top, Femdom, Dirty Talk, Leash, Vaginal sex
Summary:
In which Thistleās witch bestows a new set of equipment on him.
Written for Kinktober 2025, for the prompt āDom Bottom/Sub Topā
[ID - a purple decorative divider]
To gain a magical core, Thistle had pledged himself in service for a year and a day to a witch called Amaranthe. In exchange for doing her bidding, she would, at the end of his term as her familiarāas such an arrangement made himāopen his heart and place a sliver of her magic inside it. Such a gift would make him a witch in his own rightāand quite a powerful one too, he hoped, since Amaranthe had a reputation best described as a natural disaster waiting to happen.
Heād expected his year and a day to be hard work. To be scrubbing floors and pulling weeds, hanging laundry and harvesting herbs; all the things heād grown sick of doing at home, their mundanity given sparkling new purpose by the reward they promised.
So far, whilst his stint as a familiar had indeed involved those things, it had also involved a good deal more unusual services than heād ever anticipated providing.
Thanks for the tag, @diphthongsfordays!! My word today is STRONG and I'll go hunting through Necromancer WIP as I'm moving some excerpts I wrote by hand into the document right now...
S. She looks rather nice too and would perhaps win some of Camilleās many admirers if she wouldnāt devote so many facial muscles to frowning.
T. They met on a battlefield, and indeed it sometimes seems they never left.
R. Rather than settle down, Nikolaos stays sitting beside Quintus silently. Miriam hesitates, unsure if she wants to leave them alone.
O. Oneās trills reach a higher volume, and the princeās mother flinches, her mouth tightening disapprovingly.
N. āNone of this is Camilleās fault,ā Andromeda hisses heatedly. āAnd punishing her isnāt going to bring Nikolaos back or make the two of you feel any better.ā
G. āGood,ā Quintus says, his eyes still shut tightly, his face pinched, as though his head hurts him. āThatās good.ā
I'll gently tag @wynray @reneesbooks @writernopal @thewriteflame @sleepy-night-child @sleepyowlwrites and anyone else who sees this! Your word is YELLOW š
It feels like forever since I've done one of these, hooray!! :) Thanks for the tag, @memento-morri-writes. (and no, this is not the tag from yesterday, this one is much older and i'm sorry) I'm looking for knock, snow, control, and old, in my necromancer WIP <3
Knock:
Roslyn stretches across the table to reach the butter, and Nikolaos hands it to her without waiting for her to ask, or worse, knock something over. The little one tugs on his arm and whispers in his ear, and he pours more milk into her tin cup.
Snow:
Quintus smiles. Heās like a being of the landscape in the low, harsh light of the moon on the snow ā hair black as the sky, smile as bright and gleaming as their icy surroundings.
āOf course, youāre taking his side,ā he says.
āHeās already dead,ā Nikolaos says, and thinks, lucky bastard. āLeave him alone.ā
Control:
They are talking about it again. Miriam calculates her losses and her victories, and carefully says, āHow badly does it hurt?ā
Quintus says nothing, but his entire face screws up as though he canāt control it anymore. He looks miserable.
Miriam canāt help it. āOh, Quintus,ā she says under her breath.
He does not tell her to mind her own business. He does not tell her to keep her pity. He does not move.
Old:
āYou are a curious woman.ā
Miriam scrunches into a ball, slides her feet from the blanket. The morning air is cool to the touch, and her skin prickles. āAnd you are a subject of great mystery,ā she replies. āLetās cease with stating the obvious.ā
āThe mystery grows old after a while.ā Nikolaos rolls to his feet, graceful even first thing in the morning.
š§Passing on tags to anyone who sees this and wants to join in, and also @pertinax--loculos @thegreatobsesso @zinabug-writes @mic-writes @rodentwrites @revenantlore @winterandwords and @chauceryfairytales!! Your words are suppose, spark, shield, and submit <3
Thanks so much for this tag, @diphthongsfordays!!! I went to a cafe this morning to write, which was so lovely after a long and busy week, and I was working on Bent Nails, so I'll pull some lines from there!
A line about dreams:
āI think [Nick] always intended to fill this place with a family,ā Angela said sadly, putting the pan in the dish drain.
A line about hope:
āOut,ā Michael settled on. Best defense was a strong bored attitude. At least, he hoped it was.
A line about cold:
There was no one to hold him, so he held himself, wrapping his arms tight around his legs. The wall dug into his spine but all he could truly feel was the cold, as though he were drowning himself.
A line about loyalty:
"That seems like an awful lot to go through because you love your brother," Michael said somberly.
Isaiah crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, tell that to my brother."
Please consider this tag OPEN! Come play with me :) Your lines are:
A line about fish
A line about glaring
A line mentioning an insect
An angry line
š Share a sentence from your WIP that starts with each letter in the word given to you by the person who tagged you
These are from Miles From Morning...
Safe people donāt come around too often and I appreciate them when they do.
Moments of genuine tenderness are few and far between, and remembering them feels like more of a punishment these days than remembering torture does.
Of course this bastard of a day is about to get worse.
Killing people really fast with, and I quote, a disturbing lack of remorse for my actions.
Even weeks after we met, the lingering ghost of his kindness with all its unfamiliarity still has power over me.
Tagging @aalinaaaaaa, @alintalzin, @abitscripturient and @ace-malarky if you'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in.
The word for your acrostic is LOSER š
Reblogs, replies etc on my tag posts are always welcome, but if you're doing this tag yourself, please make your own post instead of using mine to start a reblog chain.
Want more of my writing than I post on Tumblr, with all my stories, blog posts, updates, and audio readings? Head on over to my Patreon! There's a free membership option and I'd love to welcome you to my cosy little queer fiction community š
Tags: F/F, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Light Knifeplay, fucking on the altar
Summary:
In which Niamh worships on Glasyaās altar.
[ID - a decorative divider]
Itās always easy to slip away from her party in a city. Ameshe loses herself in the largest library, Mordecai in the seediest tavernāor bloodiest fighting pit, if he can sniff one outāand Niamh is left to her own devices until such time as her services are required again. They perhaps arenāt as close as some crews are, but the arrangement works, and more importantly, it allows her to seek out Glasyaās temples without being interrogated about it.
Niamh descends the stairs in silence, accompanied only by the fading thud of the trapdoor and the dancing shadows of flickering torchlight. Of all the temples sheās visited, this one, buried beneath an unassuming alchemistās shop in the Trades Ward of Waterdeep, holds a special place in her heart. Not because itās better than any of the othersācertainly there are more elaborate enclaves of diabolical devotion out thereābut because itās where she made her pact.
In which Pharaun finds a way to circumvent the restrictions of the geas and take a cruel vengeance on Vizaeth.
Written for Kinktober 2025, for the prompts āhumilationā and āintoxicationā.
[ID - a purple decorative divider]
The geas burns beneath his sternum. Rancid magic, rotten little claws digging into the muscle of his heartāin the dead of night, staring at the ceiling, he can hear that accursed name echoing inside his heartbeat: Vizaeth, Vizaeth, Vizaeth fucking Thaezyr.
Heās tried to get rid of it. Oh, how heās triedāhours of reading, scouring the deepest recesses of Sorcereās libraries, creeping about like some common criminal in the fouler parts of the city in search of someone, something, anything that will rid him of this infection.
Pharaun rubs at his chest, the habit already tedious. None of his efforts have yet turned up a way to untangle the mangled skein of magic encasing his heart like Lolthās own webs, so he must perforce find other ways to compensate his suffering. Particularly after the rat decided to blind and then rape him. That little stunt he did not, ironically, see coming. Up until then, even with the geas, heād thought Vizaeth still squarely under his thumb. The boy was so obsessed, so devotedācharmingly, naively devoted, the perfect slave and scapegoatāthat Pharaun never thought heād grow an actual spine.
The influence of the Dyrr apprentice and his friends, no doubt. A touch of power rubbing off, making him think he can just get away with things, the way real people can. Well. Geas or not, itās about time Vizaeth was reminded of his place in the natural order.
Reading a book that's so good that you want to read it and read it and read it but at the same time you don't want to read it because then you'll finish it and it'll be over. These are moments that are worth living for.
a writer, perchance @space-writes - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
