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 I’m in my third decade of existence, which is absolutely wild. I’ve been writing for most of it, so I like to think I’m 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
I’m open to tag and ask games, and my inbox is currently open to anything as well. I don’t always reply the fastest, but I’ll get to it eventually! (I don’t take part in chain asks, so please don’t send me them)
I use obsidian.md for all my writing, and it’s 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 that’s actually happened, but i live in hope
My current wips are Chronicles of Valloroth (Crowned Prince being book one), Obedience, Obsession, and claws—summaries 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
⚔ Genre: Fantasy Adventure
⚔ 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 (he’s gay), more banter than your average dungeons and dragons campaign
⚔ Status: Book One: second draft complete|| Book Two: rough draft complete || Book Three: outlining
⚔ 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.
⚔ Series Tag: valloroth blogging
claws
🩸 Genre: Queer Horror
🩸 Features: teacher/student relationship (university edition), toxic romance, gender fuckery, broken identity, demonology, murder, self-harm, obsession, stalking, infidelity, a lot of blood, pact-based magic system, corruption, jealousy, eldritch entities, love is a wound, body horror, attempted suicide, and a little bit of arachnophilia
🩸 Status: First draft complete!
🩸 One Sentence Summary: A young student’s obsession with his demonology teacher sparks a twisted romance that draws him to the limits of his humanity—and into the web of an eldritch horror.
💜 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
💜 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.
💜 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 don’t have for each other.
💜 Series Tag: obedience fic blogging (it began on my main, so the tag there has more snippets)
Obsession
🕷 Genre: War of the Spider Queen/Forgotten Realms fanfiction, also Erotica, Horror and a smidge of Dark Romance
🕷 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
🕷 Status: Ongoing serial, which you can read on AO3 here, or my neocities here
🕷 One Sentence Summary: Pharaun Mizzrym is everything to Vizaeth Thaezyr. He’ll do anything for him—even if Pharaun doesn’t know it yet.
🕷 Series Tag: obsession fic blogging (it also began on my main, so check the tag there for additional content!)
Forgotten Realms | E | Niamh/Invari | Wordcount 1459
Tags: F/F, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Light Knifeplay, fucking on the altar
Summary:
In which Niamh worships on Glasya’s altar.
[ID - a decorative divider]
It’s always easy to slip away from her party in a city. Ameshe loses herself in the largest library, Mordecai in the seediest tavern—or bloodiest fighting pit, if he can sniff one out—and Niamh is left to her own devices until such time as her services are required again. They perhaps aren’t as close as some crews are, but the arrangement works, and more importantly, it allows her to seek out Glasya’s 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 she’s visited, this one, buried beneath an unassuming alchemist’s shop in the Trades Ward of Waterdeep, holds a special place in her heart. Not because it’s better than any of the others—certainly there are more elaborate enclaves of diabolical devotion out there—but because it’s where she made her pact.
i love it and hate it when a character in a story is so obviously created to be cool and awesome and then i do think they're cool and awesome. like fuck, yeah, ok, they're fucking epic. swag as hell. you got me you coolbaited me ok? i'm coolbaited.
A wild magic sorceress born to a house of wizards, unwanted and disdained, until her pain brings her into Lolth’s embrace.
[ID - a decorative divider]
The magic that blooms with her adolescence is unwelcome in the House of T’sonri. Untrained, unpredictable, unsightly—burnt hands, broken plates, shattered windows. Mother snaps out careless girl! and thoughtless child!; sisters sneer useless and talentless and disgrace behind Arcanum-trained hands.
And Zeerith—magicless, forgotten Zeerith—salves her burns and repairs the plates and sweeps up the glass without a word. He has nothing, what she has isn’t worth having, and so together they are less than any T’sonri should be.
If she’d been the eldest, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.
She is not the eldest. She could have been, had fate twisted in her favour, but why would it? She’s never had any accommodations. T’sonris don’t need accommodations.
Tags: Violence, Gore, Dysphoria, Murder, Religious Themes, Character Backstory, Trans OC
Summary:
You are a divine gift, Veltariel. You are a blessing made flesh. In you are the eyes of Tyr’s justice made manifest.
This is neither Malevir’s true name nor his true purpose. Today is the day he proves it.
[ID - a decorative divider]
You are a divine gift, Veltariel. You are a blessing made flesh. In you are the eyes of Tyr’s justice made manifest.
Bloody footsteps marked Malevir’s passage down the centre of the nave. Fading screams lingered in the air, caught in the dark of the clerestory above. Ahead, the dusk light fell blue and purple through the stained glass, bathing the cowering figures of his parents where they huddled before the altar.
“That’s enough, Veltariel!” his father cried.
Malevir continued to walk. Feathers shed in his wake, crumbling to red ashes as they drifted to the floor. Not enough left of his wings to fly now, but at least they were unbound.
“Put down the knife, darling.” His mother’s voice rang out, shaking but as clear as ever it sounded from the pulpit. Words were all she had. Tyr had never seen fit to grant her or any other of this church more than that. “Please, just put it down.”
The dead and the dying lay broken behind him, Tyr’s guilty faithful, punished as their own doctrine commanded. That many were ignorant of the shape of their guilt troubled him not—the mercy of ignorance was a mercy none had ever granted him. They had plucked his feathers for good fortune; laid hands upon him in search of Tyr’s blessings; stripped him bare before a crowd so that his many eyes could watch over the justice delivered unto others.
Now justice was come among them, and it was not Tyr’s hand that would deliver it, but his.
Wait I just remembered that ai books exist and the empty spectre of being a writer without writing anything suddenly gave me the urge to eat nails. Post rescinded. I'll write the fucking chapter.
Thank you so much for the tag, @zmwrites! I have had a very productive morning today writing first at a cafe and then the library too -- having a blast! I'm going to have to schedule in more days like this soon, for sure, but first let me hunt down scrub, home, blue, and start in Necromancer WIP!
These are hefty excerpts, but the context is important, so get out your spectacles and enjoy <3
Scrub:
It’s invigorating. Quintus scrubs blood and dirt and sweat from his body, and releases the air in his lungs and blinks water from his eyes as he surfaces. The sky above him is pale and cloud-specked, and birds sing in the distance. He can’t remember the last time he was clean.
Home and Blue:
Nikolaos, you idiot, it’s time to come home.
Quintus’s mind starts racing. Nikolaos in the rain, his hair plastered to his smiling face. Nikolaos chewing hungrily, crumbs dropping into his lap. Nikolaos trying to thread a needle with his tongue between his teeth. Nikolaos wiping away a frustrated tear when he thinks no one is looking.
There’s a sound like a splash and Quintus comes back to himself, inhaling a mouthful of lake water and slipping under the surface.
It’s cool and dark and quiet there, but he barely has time to contemplate it properly before a strong arm has disrupted it, looping around Quintus’s chest and yanking him back into a world of sensation and fear.
He shakes water from his eyes and finds himself staring at Nikolaos, alive and well.
“Oh thank god,” Quintus says, his voice breaking, and a suspicious amount of lake water rolling down his cheeks.
They hold on to each other, trying to stay afloat, Nikolaos in all his sodden, heavy clothes, and Quintus nearly nude, both of them with matching blue lips. Nikolaos doesn’t speak, and Quintus tries very hard not to wonder what creative ways he might’ve died this time that Quintus cannot see.
Start:
Anger surges up inside Quintus like a wave washing ashore over and over again. He’s too short, too unhappy, too stupid to know when to stop. He punches Nikolaos’s very firm chest, and then once he starts, he can’t seem to stop, pummeling and pummeling and maybe he’s crying or saying something but he can’t hear it over the surf crashing in his ears.
Nikolaos lets him, only turning his head slightly to avoid the worst of Quintus’s erratic movements. Quintus is unable to find himself in the maelstrom in his own head. He is lost, adrift, disoriented and off course, and everything hurts.
“η καρδιά μου,” Nikolaos says, words Quintus doesn’t recognize. Perhaps because he cannot recognize them, he lashes out, strikes Nikolaos across the face in a knuckle-throbbing way that is sure to hurt.
Grabbing him now, Nikolaos sets his jaw. Quintus hits him again.
Nikolaos takes one of Quintus’s arms and twists it sharply. Quintus shouts with the pain and pulls a knife, stepping under Nikolaos’s guard in a smooth motion, raising the point to Nikolaos’s throat.
They freeze, locked in a perverse embrace, breathing heavily. “Stop,” Nikolaos says.
😈
Mwahaha, I say, and then I tag @winterandwords @reneesbooks @thegreatobsesso @memento-morri-writes @mrbexwrites @akindofmagictoo @finickyfelix and anyone else who'd like to find the words burst, before, beneath, and body.
📝 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...
So I take my life in my hands, because at this point, why not?
Conditioning runs deep.
And it’s satisfying, knowing someone wants to start shit with you but they don’t have the guts to do it.
Right now, here, with this stranger doing exactly what I told him to do, I can’t handle what it’s dredging up.
Even after everything he’s done to me here, after everything he’s made me do, there are still rooms I haven’t been hurt in yet.
Don’t even try to pretend that isn’t true.
Tagging @diphthongsfordays, @dyrewrites, @eyes-talks-ocs and @finickyfelix if you'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in.
I was tagged by @akindofmagictoo and given the words beauty, shape, garden, and reflect. Thank you!
From... Indigo Wars draft 7? Sure!
BEAUTY (Violet)
“We are trying to keep the kingdom and its inhabitants safe, Miss Colby. I apologize if it’s interfering with your beauty sleep,” Wickes said coolly.
Something inside of her snapped. Her hearing dropped out. Her vision narrowed to just him. She lunged for his throat, wrapping her hands around his windpipe and squeezing hard enough that his eyeballs popped. They toppled over and she landed on top of him, snarling as she pinned his arms to his side. He tried to buck her off but she was determined to see him die, to watch the life drain out of his face.
SHAPE (Violet)
There was cold stone against her back and the taste of blood in her mouth. She opened her eyes. The chandelier sparkled above her, its rainbow slivers dancing across the walls.
An impossibly tall figure loomed to her right. They were well over two metres tall, wrapped in a loose parchment-coloured robe, the cowl revealing only an impenetrable shadow instead of a face. It seemed more like fabric draped in the shape of a human than an actual person.
It is unlikely I will be able to do that again, [Rimos] said. The words arrived fully formed in her mind just as they had in her visions, which was considerably more unsettling in the waking world.
GARDEN (Maisy)
Hal hurried inside, cradling a small, misshapen-looking plant and its clay pot in his palms. He was inspecting the green sprig with concentrated concern. “You poor thing, let’s get you taken care of.”
“Where—?” she started, but he had already gone past her towards the gardens and greenhouses. She pursed her lips.
REFLECT (Violet)
A bolt of pain shot through her temple. She slammed a hand into the wall just in time to keep herself from collapsing. Her vision went white, her mind filled with a high-pitched whine, and her other senses battled between two different experiences. Her own rapid breathing blurred into the fast breathing of her host. The white walls around her and around them blended into an endless expanse of stone like she had put two mirrors together and was seeing them reflect each other into nothingness. Shouting, laughing, talking, voices all layering together. Scents of perfumes and people and the bit of wine she’d gotten on her hand when putting the cork back in the bottle. Her hand on the wall, her hand holding the embossed handle of a knife. The pressure on her chest, on her mind, the fog, the chaos—
The connection severed as her body hit the floor.
Based on these snippets, it seems Violet is having a way worse time than Maisy. I assure you, Maisy is also having a terrible time.
I tag @ficsinhistory, @jobaozi, @aro-ace-from-outer-space22, and anyone else who wants to play! Your words are orange, false, able, and new. As always, no pressure!
I was tagged by @savvyminnow. Thanks for the tag! I'm going to share the opening lines of a Carrion snippet I started 5 bajillion years ago that my friend (Valeska's player) is desperately wanting me to finish but that I haven't yet because my brain is being a piece of flaming shit. :))))
Carrion was annoyed. More than annoyed, actually. He was sick of this. Sick of listening to the two mages argue in circles.
They’d come here for a reason: Find out what the fuck was up with Oskar, and leave. Carrion had tried his best to make that happen, but it had all gone out the window the moment the apprentice (Marco, he thought the kid’s name was) had seen Valeska’s robes. He’d probed her about the Academy, but eventually left to get Oskar. Carrion had thought that would be the end of the conversation. He had been wrong.
I'm going to tag @dragon-swords-prophecies @zinabug-writes @akindofmagictoo and make this an OPEN TAG!
Elven ambassador Kitarai Starflower has come to the orcish town of Kudri to finish negotiating a trade agreement with their leader, Maazen Vyal. The discussion gets exactly as messy and intimate as she hoped it would.
This story contains the following elements: Gangbang, Size Difference, Size Queen/Size Kink, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Creampie, Belly Bulge
3.7k of tiny elf x big, fat, sexy orcs. F/M & F/F (some of the women have cocks some of the men have cunts)
---
I liked my elf/orc story so much i decided to make it a Proper Book! (mostly because i wanted to make a fun cover: and this was one of the most fun covers i've made so far)
The problem with having OCs is that sometimes you wanna read about your little guy being in situations but unfortunately he is YOUR little guy and no one is gonna put him in that situation but you. Tragic.
Forgotten Realms | E | Niamh/Invari | Wordcount 1459
Tags: F/F, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Light Knifeplay, fucking on the altar
Summary:
In which Niamh worships on Glasya’s altar.
[ID - a decorative divider]
It’s always easy to slip away from her party in a city. Ameshe loses herself in the largest library, Mordecai in the seediest tavern—or bloodiest fighting pit, if he can sniff one out—and Niamh is left to her own devices until such time as her services are required again. They perhaps aren’t as close as some crews are, but the arrangement works, and more importantly, it allows her to seek out Glasya’s 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 she’s visited, this one, buried beneath an unassuming alchemist’s shop in the Trades Ward of Waterdeep, holds a special place in her heart. Not because it’s better than any of the others—certainly there are more elaborate enclaves of diabolical devotion out there—but because it’s where she made her pact.
“Aw, did you catch feelings?” Alice says. When he glares at her, she lets out a cackle. “Serves you right, you big slut.”
“I’m not in love with him,” Rainier says, and winces. That word. It’s not a real word, it’s just what people say when they want something. “He just…there’s this stuff that comes out of him that makes me crazy.”
“That’s called cum, babe.”
📝 Search for the given words in your story. If your story doesn't have a word, you can use a variation on it or a word with a similar meaning.
These are from Miles From Morning...
BURST
There isn’t time to make more sense of it than that before I hit the ground that isn’t real and the body that isn’t my body bursts open, every bone shattering on impact.
BEFORE
I never needed anyone until Gillen and every day without him hurts worse than the one before.
BENEATH
Then finally, I find what I need. A door with Buy + Sell over it and a small sign beneath that saying Private Services.
BODY
And I try to imagine what I could do to my body to make it something no-one would ever want to touch again. What I could do to make it safe.
Tagging @cat-esper, @cervus-scribe, @cheerfulmelancholies and @did-i-do-this-write if you'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in.
The words to search your WIP for are around, about, near, and close 💜
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 💞
