#The Blackest Thorns

[cheyla-v]

The Blackest Thorns, ch. 1:

There was still smoke in the air and the dust and debris hadn’t quite settled from the explosion when Sirius reached Godric’s Hollow and the two-story cottage that had previously been hidden in the magical neighborhood.

He was too late.

Even through the dark of night and the haze in the air, Sirius could see James’ dead body by what used to be the back door, slumped in what could have once been a protective stance.

The first line of defense, because Sirius hadn’t been there. He’d been lured away by Peter instead.

That traitor.

[lettherebemonsters]

I definitely think part of Michael's rage comes from him being locked in a cage almost his entire life. He sees everyone around him so happy while he rots forgotten and alone, the only constant there is being a doctor who gives up on him at his most critical moments.

This then leaves Michael open to the madness and evil that overcame him at the age of 6, forcing him to horrifically butcher his sister Judith.

Thorn brainwashing Michael into wanting to inflict as much pain as possible. If he can't be happy.....

Nobody can.

[just-jordie-things]

fushiguro megumi fic masterlist

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❥ the greenhouse 2.5k

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❥ if you look you can tell 6k

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❥ friendly neighborhood spiderman 25k

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[4humankind]

Cherik Songs

Rise Against - Whereabouts Unknown

Charles @ Erik, after the Beach Divorce™ Lines that hit especially hard as a teaser:

I long for the moment - Our silence is broken Just take the helmet off, Erik, PLEASE, let him BACK IN

Another place, another time - We toed the same side of the line Back in First Class, when everything was alright - take me back

'Cause all is forgiven - If you could just listen Charles, ready to forgive it all, it Erik would listen to reason

There's just something special about listening to a song for the 58725th time while at the gym and your brainrot is just like "hey! It's them!" and then you sit there, crying :) Enjoy (Lyrics under the cut):

To the ends of this lost world You have marched and you have sworn To a tainted crown of thorns

As the hungry sails unfurl We are trusted from the shore And it's you that we search for

The blackest night The midnight sun The covered tracks and days spent on the run The strangers we've become

These whereabouts unknown Please know you can come home It's alright I long for the moment Our silence is broken It's alright It's alright It's alright

Another place, another time We toed the same side of the line Yeah we saw eye to eye

Even then the saddest sounds, Were nothing laughter could not drown But we are not laughing now

I see your face In my sights I hesitate And then look for a sign Somewhere in the sky

These whereabouts unknown Please know you can come home It's alright I long for the moment Our silence is broken It's alright It's alright It's alright

Even together, we stand apart Swallow the sun, erase the sky An invitation has been declined Where did you go? Where did you go?

These whereabouts unknown Please know you can come home It's alright I long for the moment Our silence is broken It's alright It's alright It's alright

It's alright now Oh, oh

It's alright now 'Cause all is forgiven If you could just listen It's alright It's alright.

[cantsayidont]

November 1985 (albeit set in July 1985). As this issue finally reveals, Alan Scott, the Golden Age Green Lantern, was married very briefly in the mid-1960s to a woman named Alyx Florin, who was actually Rose Canton, a.k.a. The Thorn, a Golden Age Flash villain with a split personality. Alan had thought that Alyx died in a fire on their wedding night, but she actually fled and later had two children, who were raised by adoptive parents as Jennie-Lynn Hayden (Jade) and Todd Rice (Obsidian). The Thorn eventually reemerged and nearly killed both Alan and their kids before her Rose/Alyx personality briefly reasserted itself and she took her own life. Afterward, Green Lantern's old frenemy The Harlequin (Molly Maynne), who'd been following Rose in hopes of intervening, explained what she had pieced together about the whole sad story, and revealed for the first time that she was actually Alan's former secretary, who'd been in love with him since the 1940s. Alan then asked her to marry him.

This wedding, incidentally, took place on July 23, 1985; this was the era where writer Roy Thomas was still trying to keep the JSA moored to real time.

Alan and Molly were still married as of the vile BLACKEST NIGHT crossover, but were both temporarily banished from continuity by the New 52 reboot. With the current revival of DC's Golden Age characters and the revelation that Alan is gay, I figure it's a coin flip whether Molly is simply ignored or killed off in some awful way.

(There's no particular reason Alan being gay would necessarily erase his past marriages — his decision to marry Molly in this story was the act of a lonely middle-aged man who'd just faced a series of upsetting events and revelations in the midst of a world-shattering crisis — but given how little use DC has for older female characters and how contemptuous fans are of female characters who stand in the way of their gay blorbos, I think the likelihood of Molly being treated with any respect (if she's mentioned at all) is probably low.)

[riddles-n-games]

Wandering Soul, Forever Free

I know where all roads lead

And none of them lead to you.

I have to leave

Though my heart may weep;

You’re no good for me

So to the north I flee.

You’ve ruined me for others

But I’ll still get the last laugh, you’ll see

Because whenever you go to sleep

I will haunt you in your dreams.

And when the rebellion stands

Against your command

You’ll see me in the face of the front

Knowing that I was also one.

They’ll sing my songs 

Until your ears bleed.

And maybe you didn’t know

But I was just planting their seeds.

I’m sorry, I guess I could’ve warned you

But you should have seen the signs,

After all, you’re a remnant from the start of those times. 

Despite your name, you’re not white as snow.

Your soul? The blackest coal.

And your heart is certainly not made of gold.

A rose’s thorns too long that pierces hope’s buds

A pile of snow drenched in the reddest blood.

Maybe you were once, pure as the driven snow

But now you’re just the snake who poisoned the songbird

And the poison is your word

For you were never true

But I guess that’s a fault we both carry; I know I do.

We are alike, you and I

I knew you had secrets, you saw through my lies.

Yet we circled each other in this twisted dance

Waiting for one to break the trance.

We both had our ways of being vile

But did our love have to be just a trial?

Why did we have an end

After all the rules we had to bend?

You gave me a guitar so I could pluck its strings

While you pulled mine to make ends meet.

Yet, once I sang, you broke my chains 

And sent me back home on a train.

Then, you came to me by day

But by night you showed me your true ways.

I knew I had to make my choice. I told you there was a line and you chose to cross

But you wouldn’t come back 

And all I had left was my voice.

So I sang you one final song and it rang in the distance

Following you to the Capitol to never let you forget what you witnessed.

So even if snow falls and lands on top

I’ll be the bird that makes the first prints 

Because when you topple, you’ll go silently

But I’ll signal my triumph all throughout. 

We met at a hanging tree

At dawn, not midnight

You didn’t call out for me to flee

But I had to since your destruction you could not see

And yes, I do still remember those three men

They may have been your beginning

But I was always going to be your end.

There’s a reason you made me victor

We’re kindred spirits and we both have fangs in our mouths.

But one has talons and a beak,

The other, a long body and no feet.

I flew though you were never stranded

It’s just, you never knew how to be mended.

I wished for you to follow 

But your pride you couldn’t swallow

So I went from this place 

Because we would have never won that race

Even though you gave chase.

I made my peace 

You were never meant for me

But your betrayal, I could never release.

You had chances but never chose wisely

So why should I let you be 

When you created more civil unrest

And for 65 years, let children become murderers 

Just for one of them to be the best.

There’s a reason why first is the worst 

Especially when you sit with the weight of 23 on your chest.

You put a worth on others because you’ve never known yours

And gave the districts their lores 

To finally put you out of your rosy misery.

I warned you,

I’ll find my way through history

In much the same way I carry on as a mystery

For you know what I am,

I told you many times before,

A wandering soul, forever free

Like a mockingjay singing in the trees.

[ogwriter22]

Marriage

One day, my mother tells me

"Go to that forest,"

I walked outside,

during the blackest night

My words came out of my eyes

And rolled down as cold tears

The damp grass felt like thorns

Against the feet of my corpse

The chilly wind scares me

The branches over my head

Are about to catch me

Will I ever be free?

[nytehavyn-circle]

Thorne Bloodbane

Thorne in his human guise:

FC: Thomas Ian Griffith Age: 1,350 years old. Species: Living Vampire Height: 6'5"Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: ???

Living Vampire

Evil as they come. Thorne is around 1,350 years old, almost as old as his nemesis Terran Nytefyer. (Thorne's Sire is unknown). He used to be a good and decent person, and friends with Terran, but after an unfortunate accident which ended up in the death of a woman he loved dearly, something broke inside of him.

Over the centuries he became more bitter, more angry, losing more and more of his humanity. Until he finally reached the point where hate was all he felt. It permeated his soul, filling the hole left by his lost love with the blackest of black.

Now he absolutely despises everyone and everything. Especially humanity. Humans are a lower life form, so far beneath him that he considers them as no more than dog shit under his boot.

Love is stupid, ridiculous, doesn't exist. People fool themselves, lying to themselves every waking moment about how they feel, especially when it comes to love.

Thorne is the type of person to kick puppies, to punch random people as he walks down the street, laughing maliciously as he does so. He'll kick the cane away from a blind man and walk away.

He kills indiscriminately. He kills when he feeds, he kills at random just because he can. And he definitely gets a thrill from it. He also loves torturing people. He'll torture someone for days or even weeks. He'd even give them a blood transfusion to keep them alive just so he could torture them more.

He'll use a disguise, make himself look like an innocent human, just to lure someone into letting their guard down, to get them to trust him - and he can play the long game, he's done it before, just so he can destroy their illusions later. This can go on for weeks. He's managed to actually learn a shimmer, a sort of magical disguise that prevents humans from seeing his fangs when he's in his human guise.

And women beware because Thorne is very much a danger to them.

He's evil incarnate. And his purpose at the moment, as it has been for centuries, is to utterly destroy Terran Nytefyer and NyteHavyn. He blames Terran for his lover's death. He wants to humiliate and grind into dust everything Terran loves, tear it all down and watch it burn.

Since he can't enter the dimensional bubble that houses the town of Rhys and NyteHavyn castle, he must draw Terran and his crew out. He will go after those Terran calls family, he'll go after those Terran calls friends. Especially lovers.

He will create chaos and fear. Do not get in his way on his quest for vengeance, lest you become his next victim.

Thorne doesn't believe in relationships at all.

(Warning: I have to get into a very specific and dark headspace to write this evil dirtbag. So starters, replies, and such will sometimes take me a bit. This is a very dark character. A nd while I will not write out and describe some things with this muse, I will very much write out a lot of dark and triggering content. This muse will be heavily tagged with tw: trigger here. If I forget to tag something that is triggering to you with this character, please tell me immediately so I can tag it. As it is, Thorne bloodbane, unless I have a very specific purpose in mind at the moment, is BY REQUEST ONLY!)

[nyxthenight]

Plus the links for my Arrow Fanfiction as I’ve never shared this on here either. Obligatory, I do not own Arrow or it’s associated characters and or properties only my own characters.

[emeraldthelynx]

(Two) Teaser(s) for an upcoming story

It was a strange day. A day when he actually went outside. He still held his laptop, and was always typing away at his algorithms. Wondering why humans were so inconsistent. He paused in the middle of a keytap. He glanced back, looking at thick foliage in the park. There was a fence. He closed his laptop, confused. It was like something was... calling. He folded the laptop, and put it into his bag. He looked at the fence, and the brambles beyond.

He reached for the fence, splinters setting in his hand. He sucked in a breath, but still climbed overtop. Thorns scratched at his hands and ankles, and low-lying branches slapped into his face. The ground started becoming swampy, pulling in his legs. His shoe fell into the muck. He winced, feeling the dirty swamp water soaking his socks.

"Why am I even doing this?" he whispered, staring up at the scarce sunlight overhead.

'It's because you are a Chosen One.' He started upon hearing the voice. He stared into the woods. Something pulsed in the deepest and blackest part of the thicket. 'That's it. Come a little closer.' He inched forward, moving feet through the increasing swamp. Bugs were starting to bother him. Some stung, some bit. But he waded further into the water. It was above his knees, and the sunlight was almost completely blocked out. Something pulsed in the water's depths.

He braced himself, and plunged his hand into the swamp. Slimy things slithered by, and bits of things he didn't even want to think of their source soaked into his sleeve. His fingers rested on a piece of metal. He grasped it, and pulled it out slowly. The glow was obscured by the muck, and a strange pair of eyes stared out from under its coat.

'There we are. I've been waiting for a Chosen One like you. One that can remake the world.' the metal said. He stared.

"Remake the world?" he whispered. The metal glowed.

'Yes. I'll give you the power to remake it, however you want.' it said. He took in a breath.

"However I want." He pressed the metal to his sweater, and nodded. "Yes... That sounds nice." he whispered. His gaze went unfocused, and the barest edge of red started filling his eyes. "What's your name?" he said, voice dull and monotone.

'Please, call me Model W.'

[sparrownimbus2000]

I'll make you a cup of tea.

In the murky muddy chaos of this vortex, like the blackest eye of a furious hurricane – a rose blooms. Thorny rose, beautiful velvety petals, a black vortex of their own in their deep scarlet. Yet it gleams in the silent rage that storms around it. Sizzling fury, angry and red, and it shines in the middle like a beacon of … reality. Reality is thorns under the satin exterior of a happy…

[cheyla-v]

August 2024 Update Schedule

August 7 - The Blackest Thorns, ch. 1 (HP/Dragel fic) August 14 - A Heart Well Worth Winning, ch. 5 August 21 - Bloody Blossoms, ch. 2 August 28 - Death's Favored Ones, ch. 8

[lettherebemonsters]

Michael wasn't able to be in his children's lives die to all three being stolen from under the Cult of Thorn's noses. Michael only knew Steven survived birth and was lead to believe his other children were stillborn.

Because of all that, of being made to believe his offspring were gone, he's beyond protective of his kids. To the point that he's a helicopter parent.

He's got humanity enough in him to show that he loves his children, but Michaela is his favorite. She's the one he chose to inherit Thorn because she's the strongest of the three, and the most like Michael.

Despite the favoritism, he doesn't express it. He shows his kids equal attention and favoritism.

[kilowogcore]

Got any Kilowog read list?

I'm a big fan of Green Lantern Corps Vol. 1, which is where Kilowog was created, and especially the Red Lantern arc where Kilowog goes to the USSR, starting with issue #207. The Red Lantern arc is collected in "The Green Lantern Corps: Beware Their Power Vol. 1" while the beginning of the Green Lantern Corps run and the introduction of Kilowog is collected in "Tales of the Green Lantern Corps Vol. 3".

Unfortunately, the end of Steve Englehart's Green Lantern Corps run, which included a lot of important Kilowog stuff, has never been collected.

Kilowog also feature very heavily in Green Lantern Corps: Recharge, and the subsequent Green Lantern Corps Vol. 2 series. It came out in the aughts and is a little bloodier, but still good stories. That included the Sinestro Corps arc and went all the way through Blackest Night.

Kilowog had some good bits in Geoffrey Thorne's recent run on Green Lantern (starting in 2021), but Kilowog was definitely a more minor supporting character in that one. Still a good run though.

[xasha777]

In the shadowed depths of the woods near Congress Heights station, where the air is always a touch colder and the trees seem to whisper secrets, there lived a figure of dread known only as the Lady of Bones. It was said that on the darkest nights, when the moon hid its face in fear, she would emerge from the thicket, her appearance striking terror into the hearts of all who saw her.

Her eyes, deep and void, mirrored the blackest obsidian, and her face, adorned with the intricate makeup of a skeleton, spoke of death's eternal embrace. The Lady of Bones wore a crown of faded roses, their petals ashen gray, entwined with thorns that seemed to weep red in the pale moonlight. Her attire was a regal corset of crimson and black lace, whispers of a long-forgotten nobility that now danced with the macabre.

Legend had it that she was once a maiden of great beauty and wealth who had an insatiable fascination with the occult. She dwelled in an old manor close to the station, her life a tapestry of lavish parties and secret midnight rituals. But her obsession led to her undoing. One fateful night, under a blood-red moon, she performed a forbidden ritual to invoke the spirits of the dead. The ritual was a tragic failure, cursing her to exist in a liminal space between life and death.

Now, as the Lady of Bones, she roamed the woods, bound to the earth by her curse. Her presence was an omen, foretelling misfortune or death to those who encountered her. Commuters at the nearby Congress Heights station spoke of hearing eerie whispers and seeing fleeting shadows out of the corners of their eyes when trains pulled into the station at night.

One cold October evening, a group of thrill-seeking teenagers decided to challenge the tales. They ventured into the woods, their hearts a mix of fear and excitement, intent on finding the Lady and capturing proof of her existence. As they delved deeper into the forest, the air grew unnaturally cold, and the path twisted unexpectedly, disorienting them.

Whispers fluttered through the trees, a soft, mournful lament that seemed to beckon them further in. Finally, they came upon a clearing where the Lady of Bones stood, her gaze piercing through the shadows. The teenagers froze, their bravado crumbling under the weight of her spectral presence. She reached out with a hand as delicate as it was deadly, her touch cold as the grave.

In an instant, they found themselves back at the station, unable to recall how they returned. Each bore an inexplicable mark, a small, thorny vine tattooed around their wrists, a permanent reminder of the night they met the Lady of Bones. They spoke little of what happened, their eyes always darting to the shadowed path that led to the woods.

And so the legend grew, woven into the fabric of local folklore, a chilling tale of curiosity and its grave consequences. The Lady of Bones continued to wander the woods, a tragic figure caught in an endless dance with death, forever guarding the secrets that had once been her undoing.

[libidomechanica]

And thus we meet against eaches—Ellen

Friends, and what you, because that shiny     this shrouds lights are locke in my day-nets nomena we’ll     put doors, will but Longbow was thou, Abelard hers aloud;     and ogled, both cheek laid. Which strings to bed. With that mighty     drink! ’ Cried down the means rollin,

I went they are state, with thy     birth, and see. And yet in the Lady Flora, proud of ioyes.     Or their strangest gather lad, a general and angrily:     What succeeded. And thus we meet against eaches—Ellen     payne: for coming steps, one

Moment’s quicke, she has nae love; and     here well of guilt and as Algrind vsed the life done man; while     I leaves restfull off—as it was not betwixt Egypt and     trysting a pity of Lolah’s eyes where’s not know the     labour’d; and wondrous wit,

or joys are numerous earth; then,     shall be of Comedy be free at first, though he dreadful     perior, that say at a calm of joy, whence of the rest, I     nill lure is palace is theme for this haue ioyes. There is     obsolete. That like these arms,

while time, and on they suspect and     honor: the damsel’s name you with in treasure, and the Room     they might, with means rolled my final aspects conne now clean, one     with hoary hear lyre or pass’d the Sun, round in smil’d, no two     might bleede, thy mamie, shall

I lovely read love than art, his     being moon built that Life, and sings where modest men of low-     thought, how Sultán’s Turrets cross to pick it would have a royall     the great fosters carried heards, and barren movest with     a Moon a small remembrace

she door, the mirror, she no     night, was ordain’d to the Porter’s grouse: divorced your early     lives this should perceivest, lovest to be serenest soul     of fire. Alas, hoeing thorn, and from the Baltic’s—so youngest     the day displaie, how would

all its of modesty she great     for his delightfall thee rounded in thy siluer solitary     pap well—a man whose say, It was a created     are construment: and you’ve misliue indecision; and grown meek,     and I go, but never

husband, darken’d, who by who have     to arrive wise, in word this waist. Thou my vnrest, canst to arriv’d.     Broad arm, and wind wish’d them we have that the dore againe     retired after hand, plunder stands to veil’d Melancholy     hand, and silks we have I

see; beauteous, even were, which abhorr’d;—     gulbeyaz’ brows than of inwards to wears the beginning     l’ envoy of Lorraines irradiate, clottery     one whence! Bene beneath is such a so-so man, one will     no face the flame he presence

i am once, though a son.     I’ll no fiercer St I praying the sky might have sugred     lovelight, to sulphurous earth, painters of she gall—to     stranger this show’d the pride of lost. Might be summer that softer     roguish een. And thus

gentle borrow, like those Two Love!     Is sought thy Harím Dividualitie, the verse, is insulated:     whatever a poets for the cost, I shoutèd     and there. The could having sing in thinking all I go. Can     be were the worse from our

favourite me round the blackest     singering, Juan at the declined,—the layer on lay with     reason, and then silenced Albano’s boys, or legs. When the     far-fet help the bride, but the rest find one man; so much-lament,     of the brimmingled

yet thy so you till with Dudu,     with that no doubtle Alchemist the cup before the Duches,     ears;—and Lady Adeline, if it safety in the     mirrors shall I love commotion I would be—a sudden     after doubt, plunge to see.