#The sprites

[fan-a-tink]

The Sprites ✨

Litty & Kingham, Episode 8

[stasyalovem]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

[thepopsicle]

Hello fellow ghostly friends! 🔮👻

I’ve concocted an itemized list of ways to help us get a season two of Dead Boy Detectives!

1. stream, stream , stream! Watch dbda as much as you possibly can, have it on in the background and put your friends onto the show!

2. Join a party! This links to the first tip ; My server hosts Dbda watch parties where we stream the show in the server while encouraging everyone to stream it on their own ! Individual streams count towards the shows statistics while watching it all together in the server encourages activity on social media!

(If you can’t join our server here, we urge you to host similar watch parties on your own!)

3. Rate the show favorably on IMDb and leave your best review! Some people review each individual episode while others review the whole show; I suggest doing both!

4. Sign the petition ! Many shows have been saved by a good petition so be sure to not only sign it but share it! Link here

5. Make & share as much media as you can about the show! Text posts, video edits, art , even memes and tag the show and Netflix! Streamers search all social medias for mentions of shows and how popular they are!

These are all I’ve got for now but feel free to reblog and add your own tips if you have any!

[schelluminium]

I'm thinking about what makes a magical object invisible to humans. Like Niko didn't see Edwin's books or Charles' backpack or their clothes for that matter when the sprites were still inside of her but she did see that enchanted jar from Tragic Mick's "floating". Why was that?

[ifnonsense-hadaname]

Edwin - I'm here to exorcise the demon that has possessed you

Niko - I didn't call you The Sprites - We did!!

[acourtofquestions]

Lidia had known, even as a child, that she was pure power, and she'd kept that power buried in her veins.

Not witch-power. She knew her flames were ... different. Her father didn't have them, either.

She'd kept them secret, even from the Asteri.

Especially from the Asteri. No other shifters had them, to her knowledge, and she knew what revealing them would mean: becoming an experiment to be pulled apart by the Asteri.

Then she had run into Danika Fendyr, who had somehow learned things about Lidia's paternal bloodline, and wanted to know if Lidia had any strange gifts. Fae-like, elemental gifts.

She'd debated killing Danika then and there to keep the gift secret. And what else did Danika know—could she know about her sons?

The shifters were Fae from another world, Danika had explained. Blessed with a Fae form and a humanoid one, gifted with elemental powers.

It confirmed what Lidia had long guessed. Why she had named Brannon after the oldest legends from her family's bloodline: of a Fae King from another world, fire in his veins, who had created stags with the power of flame to be his sacred guards.

Lidia hadn't mentioned any of that as Danika had filled her in on how they'd become shifters, and the Asteri's experimentation with them on Midgard, which had eventually erased their pointed ears. She'd been glad when Danika had died, all her questions with her.

No longer.

After ingesting the antidote that her brilliant, brave sister had made, the fire had surged so close to the surface that she couldn't deny it.

Didn't want to deny it.

Flame rippled from Lidia as she raced out of the palace, through the city, and onto the battlefield beyond. Untethered, unconquerable.

It was time for Lidia to clean house.

Her fire a song in her blood, Lidia walked across the battlefield. Bullets melted before they could reach her.

It was so much more natural than it had ever been. In the Cave of Princes, it had taken nearly all her concentration to douse the flames of the Autumn King around her companions.

Only Morven had seemed to be surprised—the others hadn't questioned how the flames had disappeared. There had been too much chaos for anyone to piece it together.

Now her fire flowed and flowed. Her truth was freed.

The war-machines halted. Angled their guns and bombers toward her. They'd wipe her from Midgard.

But she'd keep going until the end. She didn't look behind her at the palace, where she could only pray that Ruhn-her mate-was getting her sons to safety.

For the first time in her miserable existence, she let the world see her for what she was. Let herself see all that she was.

The missile launchers turned white-hot. Lidia rallied her flames. Even if she intercepted the missiles in midair, the shrapnel alone could kill her allies—

There was one way to stop it. To get there first.

Before the missiles launched. And take them all out, herself included.

She began running.

She wished she'd been able to say goodbye to her sons. To Ruhn. To tell him her answer to what he'd said.

I love you.

She cast the thought behind her, toward the Fae Prince she knew would keep her sons safe.

The war-machines followed her movements with their launchers. They'd try to blast her into Hel before she could reach them.

Emphasis on try.

It had been a short life, as far as Vanir were concerned, and a bad one, but there had been moments of joy. Moments that she now gathered and held close to her heart: cradling her newborn sons, smelling their baby-sweet scents. Talking with Ruhn for hours, when she knew him only as Night. Lying in his arms.

So few happy memories, but she wouldn't have traded them for anything.

Would have done it all again, just for those memories.

Lidia dove deep, all the way into the simmering dregs of her power.

The war-machines loomed, black and blazing with power. Ready for her. Launch barrels stared her down, brimstone missiles glowing golden in their throats.

Lidia unleashed her own fire, ready for her final incineration.

But before her flame could touch those war-machines, before the brimstone missiles could fire, the launch barrels melted. Iron dripped away, sizzling on the dry earth.

And those brimstone missiles, caught in the melting machinery ...

The explosions shook the very world as the missiles ruptured, turning the war-machines into death traps for the soldiers within. They melted into nothing. The heat of it singed Lidia's face, and amid the burning and billowing smoke

Three tiny white lights burned bright. Fire sprites. Simmering with power.

Through the fire and smoke and drifting embers, Lidia recognized them. Sasa. Rithi. Malana. Blazing, raging with fire. They must have crept up unseen from behind enemy lines.

Too small to be noticed, to ever be counted by arrogant Vanir.

"Let's burn it all down."

Because ahead of them, dozens strong, an entire line of war-machines headed their way.

Missile launchers groaned into position. All aiming for where they stood.

"With pleasure," Irithys said, and even from a few feet away, Lidia's skin seared with the heat of the queen's flame. "We shall build a new world atop their ashes.' Rithi, Sasa, and Malana turned blue, matching their queen's fire with their own. The four fire sprites unleashed their power on the war-machines and the Vanir powering them. Lidia's white-hot flames joined theirs, twining and dancing around it, as if every moment of recognition until now had built toward this, as if her flames had known theirs for millennia. And as one flame, one unified people, as Bryce Quinlan had promised, their fire struck the enemy line.

Machines ruptured. Lidia staggered back, back, back with the force of it, still unfamiliar with the fire in her veins, after it had been so long suppressed.

But the sprites kept their fire concentrated on the machines and their pilots. And as Lidia hit the ground, as the missiles exploded upon contact with the flames, she cast the last of her power upward. To shield the allied forces fighting behind them and the fire sprites now ahead of her from the shrapnel, which melted until it became raining, molten metal.

It hissed where it hit the earth.

Irithys blazed like a blue star, shooting from machine to machine, leaving burning death in her wake. The three other sprites followed suit.

Where they shimmered, imperial forces died.

And as the enemy melted at their fingertips ... for a moment, just one, Lidia allowed herself to kindle a spark of hope.

[her0maris]

fuckkkk thought about hero too hard and now im sad again

[margooriginal]

En la aldea de los Sprite no hay ninguna chica , asi que supongo que se sorprenderian o talves se enamorarian de Pitufina si la vieran

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

For the @ainursecretsanta side event, and inspired by these prompts created by @cilil

Pairing: Non-bestial! Thû x Non-bestial! Tevildo

Themes: Soft/Fluffy/ Pining

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 700+ words

Summary: The lord of werewolves and the prince of cats work together to decorate the great hall for a feast

Minors DNI

Divider by @estrelinha-s

“You fret too much.” Thû stood by the door and watched, with growing amusement, as Tevildo went from one end of the great feasting hall to the other, and all in a frantic attempt to complete decorating it in time for the feast. “Besides, the master will not pay much attention to all of this finery. All that matters to him is the great victory he achieved over those accursed elves.”

Tevildo halted mid-stride and turned to face him. Thû was unadorned, as always, and garbed in simple but well-made black robes. A flush crept up his throat, for Thû cut a striking figure despite the simplicity of his raiment.

“He may not care for the finery,” he agreed, albeit rather reluctantly, and looked away. Thû must not see him so, all flustered and trapped in the midst of a growing infatuation. Why, he would not hear the end of it if he did. “But the others will. At any rate, I have too much to do in here to amuse you, so you could either help me with my tasks or grant me the greatest of boons by getting out of my way.”

Such words would have been answered with a sharp retort or a cutting insult, but for reasons unbeknownst to him, Thû was all rather fond of Tevildo, and he tolerated his ways.

“Far be it from me to stand by the side and do nothing,” he replied, and he stepped into the great hall. Tevildo stopped, hesitated. He was uncertain if Thû was being derisive or not. Still, when he came near and their hands brushed against each other, Thû turned to him and smiled. “Now tell me. How may I aid you in your task?”

Tevildo guided him, and Thû did as he was bid. And Thû did more than just aid him. More than once, he studied his fellow lord while he went about his tasks, discretely as always, of course. He drank in the pale skin, the hair that fell as black and thick as his own, the elegant hands that wielded a sword with lethal skill, and the red-green eyes that rested above finely formed cheekbones. Much to his growing amazement, Thû found himself approving of what he saw.  

Pretty little thing, he thought. I wonder if he would ever consider me as a companion.

“So tell me, Tevildo,” he inquired with feigned indifference, “are you escorting a companion to the feast?”

“I am not,” Tevildo confessed, much to his shame. “The others have all been spoken for. I will be escorting myself to the feast.”

“Intriguing,” Thû eased himself into the question he had been hoping to ask for some time now. “For I am escorting no one but myself to the feast as well. What do you say to us accompanying each other instead of walking into this hall on our own?”

Crimson and black baubles fell to the stone floor with a clangor and rolled under tables and benches and chairs.

“Is this a trick?” Tevildo cried. His eyes flashed—with hope, with confusion, with fear. Thû saw it all. He understood the confusion and even the fear, but those slivers of hope piqued his curiosity.

“There is no trickery here, I assure you.” He raised his hands as a gesture of peace. He was now determined to learn what Tevildo secretly hoped for. “My offer is a sincere one. Accompany me, Tevildo. Eat with me. Drink with me. What do you say?”

Tevildo looked away a second time. Goosebumps prickled all over him when Thû cupped his chin and forced him to meet his gaze. Shrewd golden eyes studied crimson and green ones intensely.

“What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Thû echoed. “I see. Well, my offer still stands. I will be waiting by the steps if you ever change your mind. Now, let us go back to making this place more festive, shall we?”

They returned to their tasks, and with one of them nearly coming undone by the touch of the other. Tevildo considered Thû’s offer, his mind a roil.

He insists his offer is a sincere one, he thought to himself. He wants to eat with me. Drink with me. It is a risk, but is it a risk I am willing to take?

He pondered and dithered, and then he came to a decision. If Thû was indeed playing him false, he would pay him back in kind. But until then…

“Very well,” Tevildo said, making his decision known. “I will accompany you to the feast.”

Tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @3dragonstar @stormchaser819

[bitterflykiss]

Meet our colorful cast "In the Garden" with the Garden sprites, and the faun who watches them. (to be continued)

[kipine]

shiny quilava 💫

[fan-a-tink]

The Sprites - Episode 2 & 3 of Dead Boy Detectives

[lunatykmode]

It's the 2nd anniversary of Sonic's death aka The Murder Of Sonic The Hedgehog

(Full animation on YouTube!)

[blumineck]

"How might Small(tm) fantasy creatures use bows?"

Tiny bow was surprisingly fun to wield. Might use that again sometime 😁

Patreon still exists for all your art reference and bonus content needs!

And you can find more fantasy creatures doing archery here:

[cyndaquilism]