#oc: Thorne

[dragongirlteeth]

Some pixel art practice feat. @wolfgirlguts @dragongirltongue @dwamgn and predstrogen

[teliangel]

Naturally one of the first drawings I do of my bg3 Tav is a full scale comic, in spite of having no clue how to draw a comic. The brain worms this game has given me truly cannot be overstated.

[koilarist]

[ THORNE ]

[astramachina]

Character Intro

Dr. Farris Thorne — Field of study: Classified. Current "Official" status: Head researcher at the Institute for Glaciate Molecular Preservation.

art by the wonderful @hrgwin (Wait, if she's a molecular scientist, why does she have a blowtorch—do NOT worry about it. It is in your best interest to not question it.)

Colleagues simply refer to her as Thorne as a tongue-in-cheek joke since she tends to be a thorn on other researchers' sides. Her work ethic is pristine but her methods are, at best, eccentric, and at worst, downright dangerous. The only rules she abides by are the rules she has set in place in her own lab, because who knows the space and its infinite intricacies better than herself? Clearly not the higher-ups pushing for far weirder experiments than the ones she's already been working on for the past twenty years.

She gets answers without asking questions, mostly because she has a tendency to break into classified servers to get the information she wants. This is how she learns about the continued existence of Project Callan, a highly classified endeavor that allegedly shut down on claims of pseudoscience and bloated government spending during the 60s. But the files are actively being updated with live footage of a location labeled only as "The Enclosure".

Thorne knew about Project Callan though, courtesy of the elite "boys only club" her father used to be a part of. There's a reason why Daddy Dearest is no longer on the IGMP researcher roster. And there's a reason why, after taking up his mysteriously vacated position at the tender age of sixteen, her personal files became redacted.

"Knowledge is power" is true in a plethora of ways, and while her chattiness often gets mistaken for charisma, she knows how to weaponize her silence. Project Callan is functioning under a different name, sponsored by an unknown organization dating back to the late 1800s, and she will do anything to get her hands on the reality-shattering "artifact" at its core.

She's 6'3". She's mean. She has, in fact, bitten people. She has serious beef with one Dr. Verne Krasner and the reason he's still alive is because he's really good at disappearing off the face of the planet. She's a pastel nightmare and thinks she might be a lesbian but unfortunately she has a job and the idea of engaging in social rituals exhausts her. RIP Dana and the rest of Thorne's acolytes, they never had a chance.

Dr. Thorne is one (of several) antagonists from The Singularity Project (title pending), a multi-media sci-fi horror webseries!

[snowthornes]

SHEPHERDS OF HAVEN | @shepherds-of-haven HEADSHOT ART | @yuuugay

✦ The Godless Brightburner

— Rend the world in winter's wrath.

The magic of Aetherai relies heavily on energy and emotions to increase the intensity of their spells. Without them, spells would be rendered weak or ineffectual, losing their force and impact; what should be great gusts of wind would become gentle puffs of air. - Notes by Thorne Briers, scribbled on a worn out journal.

On the battlefield, Thorne is akin to a howling blizzard.

The smooth and unfazed demeanor he typically affects is nowhere to be seen. His movements are swift, powerful, and brutally efficient: leaping and dodging with a jagged elegance reminiscent of an icicle broken from a frozen cave mouth. There's a flash of silver as he swiftly drags the bowstring all the way back to his cheek; a sliver of a second; then the silent scream of an arrow hurtling through the air, meeting its target with vicious accuracy.

There's a razor glint of claws and he abruptly rolls back, dodging a near-fatal blow. He springs back to his feet and responds with a barrage of howling magical energy — magic that twists into hurricanes of wind and frost, knife-like icicles that rend the flesh and freeze the limbs. The storm responds to his escalating vehemence, singing with approval as it cuts and dances and destroys, obediently following his every command.

Power and emotion flood his veins like water bursting out of a dam. His blood sings with an almost feral glee. Fury and longing, grief and defiance, silver-bright intelligence and dagger-sharp cunning, a mask always hiding, concealing, performing a one-man masquerade of hollowed music and elegant smiles, shattered faith and deadened hope, sunlight thawing a winter's chill, love and loss and laughter and hands reaching out—

Beneath the blood and dust that cling to his face, storm gray eyes blaze with a sharp, glacial, light.

✦ The Mage's Phantasms

— A thousand colors to a name.

Truth be told, I'm not sure how to feel. I came to Haven hoping to find employment and perhaps enter the merchant trade, but ended up landing in the lap of the Shepherds instead. This is my reality now. While I'm not too thrilled about it, I have no choice but to continue down this path I've inexplicably stepped on — though I have no interest in being a hero and sacrificing myself on the front lines. Perhaps I'll transfer to a non-combatant position in the future. I shall fade safely into the Order's background soon enough. Then, I can return to pursuing my previous ambitions. - Entry by Thorne Briers, scribbled in a worn out journal. Written after his inititation to the Shepherds. Miscellaneous trade and business notes are jotted down on the rest of the page. It's an entry that he often views with a look of both irony and nostalgia.

Notes on Shepherd Thorne Briers, ranging from the startlingly mundane to the undeniably vital. The author is unknown.

➸ Thorne stands at 5'11". He typically carries himself with an air of grace and elegance, mannerisms painstakingly absorbed from the aristocrats and merchants he used to watch from the distance as a child. His movements notably become more erratic and excitable when around those he wholeheartedly trusts — something that he had never found until joining the Shepherds. 🌠

➸ He can be overly apathetic to the plights of strangers. He's seen too much, done too much to be easily moved by compassion or emotion. Though he's capable of giving comfort and reassurance when the situation calls for it, he would rather use detached pragmatism to assess a situation rather than give in to 'pointless' emotions such as pity and distress. One could say that he almost recoils from genuinely emotional displays — though he hides it well.

Only those close to him know of this particular aspect of his nature, however. He usually keeps it well-concealed beneath a gleaming veneer of carefully chosen words and expressions, knowing that his true nature might work against him during missions. Whether or not this makes him insincere is up to the judgement of others. 🌠

➸ Avoids making grand promises or heroic declarations. While Thorne is quite adept at manipulating a situation to his favor, there is something quite odd about him: his aversion to making direct promises. Hope can be such a light, fragile thing, and it can be so easy to give; yet when it is promised to someone only to be taken away, it can break them. He can't. He wont. Thorne doesn't trust himself. He doesn't trust himself to be this so-called hero. He will meander, he will laugh, and he will tell you that he'll be back, in his own roundabout way — but he will never ask you to trust that he'll succeed. Not yet, anyway. 🌠

➸ Possesses a vehement aversion to religion itself. Contrary to what one might think, Thorne actually thinks it's very likely that gods do exist in some shape or form. He just has absolutely no interest in worshiping them; one could even say that he despises the thought of it. It's a stark contrast to his childhood, when he would worship and pray to the One-God with his parents. The very mention of faith and religion — especially that of the One-God — can have him inwardly recoiling as he bites back the scathing words threatening to spill from his lips.

Very, very few know about it, however. Only those he implicitly trusts have been allowed to catch glimpses of the cold vitriol that he holds towards the gods — and even they don't know just how deep it runs. (Yes, he didn't take the kithma revelation very well, and still has very mixed feelings about it. Despite that, he had to grudgingly admit that it made more sense than not.) 🌠

➸ He can be unexpectedly honest when it comes to those he holds dear. Though it clearly takes him some visible effort, Thorne won't shy away from telling a friend all the reasons why he holds them in high regard. If he plucks up the nerve, he'll bluntly tell them of how important they are to him — all while wearing the flat expression of a frog about to leap into boiling water. He'll immediately find an excuse to flee after saying his piece, face prickling with rare heat all the while. 🌠

➸ Loves accessorizing and embellishing his clothes! Before joining the Shepherds, Thorne would diligently set aside a part of his earnings to spend on his more fashionable pursuits. He especially liked embroidering delicate patterns and designs on his clothes, a hobby he continued even after joining the Order. He often tests the bounds of the Order's rules by embroidering subtle yet tasteful patterns onto his Shepherd's cloak, much to Blade's consternation. 🌠

➸ It's ridiculously easy to make him laugh when among friends, a fact that has surprised many — including Thorne himself. Even the saddest joke can coax a snort of laughter from him, though he tries to explain it away with something along the lines of, "the pathetic air of it makes it funny, why are you looking at me like that—". The recruits have long grown accustomed to seeing him doubled over with laughter during breakfast over something Chase had said, sometimes choking on his honeyed milk in the process. 🌠

➸ His moral compass has been slowly (and reluctantly) shifting after joining the Shepherds. Unfortunately, the environment Thorne was given at the Shepherds Order made it all too easy to foster compassion. For the first time, he has allies, confidantes, friends — people he can genuinely trust to watch his back. It was slow, and it was gradual, but the veneer of ice and stone he kept around his heart was softening.

The pivotal moment was in Chapter Five, when Thorne had to choose between following the mission or letting Nathe win. While Thorne could bluff that he'd only allowed Nathe to win because he'd figured that Briony would make for a powerful ally, he knew in his heart of hearts that it was a lie. In that moment, as he stared into Nathe's eyes, he'd simply wanted the elf to reunite with his family. 🌠

➸ He's actually incredibly emotional (and dramatic) despite the way he doggedly conducts himself with an apathetic pragmatism. Thorne can be indifferently cold when it comes to matters of compassion. Overly rational, even. But one could say that it was a steel born out of necessity; an iron will carved out of what was once a gentle heart in order to survive alone in a world teetering on the brink of madness.

To love is to be left; it is what he has learned in his years of wandering the world alone. To rely on faith is weakness. To believe in hope is foolishness. What was once laughter and camarederie will eventually bleed into farewells and betrayals.

To love is to be left. Never again. Never again. 🌠

➸ He is afraid. He is afraid of losing everything. The more he comes to care for the Shepherds (his comrades, friends, family, even), the more terrified he becomes of losing them. The more he grows to love them with all the fierceness and softness and everything in his heart, the more he becomes afraid of driving them away. He is no hero. He is no light. He is a charlatan, full of anger and grief and so much hate that he cannot speak into the world. Hope is a word that burns at his touch. When he looks into the mirror, all he can see is a scarred visage of disappointment — a liar masquerading as a hero. 🌠

✦ Afterword

First of all. If you've actually, somehow, managed to reach the end of this monstrously long post and are somehow reading this. Thank you. So much. So very much. Also I might be on the verge of proposing (🥺🥺🥺💍💍💍) Ahead is a little afterword about Thorne and the Godless Brightburner snippet.

Thorne is a heavily flawed character — and an incredibly emotional one at that. Despite how he usually conducts himself — pragmatic, cunning, calculating, and all that jazz — he feels his every emotion like a raging howl of sleet and storm.

He used to be a child who loved the world and everything in it. He was Westwood's beloved ray of sunshine, the mayor's precocious son. It was the... events of his thirteenth birthday and his experiences as a solitary Diminished that hardened him, that turned him into the reverse of what he once was.

A bleeding heart is a weakness: so Thorne closed his heart and turned the wound into a jagged scar. There were far too many people out there who would use a naive, wide-eyed Diminished for their own gain — he learned this very quickly. He rejected his compassion, despised his own emotions, and turned himself into someone so coldly pragmatic that the boy he once was became naught but another painful memory.

It's why he has so much mixed feelings for the Shepherds, especially in the first half of the story. By then, the only one he was concerned about was himself — or so he claimed. And, if he were to be honest, he didn't consider himself very worthy of living. He didn't even know why he fought so hard to survive; why he was willing to go so far. Perhaps it was anger. Perhaps it was defiance. Or perhaps it was atonement: continuing his hazy existence in exchange for the home he had eradicated so long ago.

You could say that he's very similar to the embittered Hunters that Halek often criticizes. Those who were disillusioned by their banishment so subsequently refused to help with the demon problem. It's why doesn't really get along with the more... openly compassionate members of the order — at least not at first. All the "make the world a better place" and "protect the innocent" talk would only ever earn flatly unimpressed looks from him.

Over the course of the game, he starts to soften. Slowly, hesitantly, his view of the world starts to gentle. He becomes more open to helping others, more willing to express his true emotions instead of hiding them under a veneer of charming smiles and calculated words. He's still wary of promises and heroics, but a part of him is gradually entertaining the thought of a future soaked in sunlight rather than in shadow. Of a future where he could be happy.

Thorne's journey is one of change and new beginnings: of learning to trust others as you learn to trust yourself. He is flawed. He is frustrating. Sometimes even I want to throttle him. He shuns emotions while he drowns in them. He will conflict with the Shepherds in the order. And, yes, he has a massive case of Impostor Syndrome when it comes to his status as Hero of Haven. But he will change, and he will grow. And I'm very, very excited to see it. 🫡✨

Another thing! If the "Godless Brightburner" snippet felt familar to you, then you'd be spot on! That section was actually inspired by something from the SHOH alpha demo — it's one of my favorite passages from the game ever. I've put it just below, so beware of MINOR SPOILERS!!

(I'll be honest: this passage made me cry. Like, I was full on sniffling my heart out. I don't know why. I don't know how. But it felt so regretful. Like the hollow echo of something that once was. Vibrant and brilliant and ephemeral and gone.)

When I first read this passage, I was floored. Sniffling aside, it was just... brimming with so much life. "His essence poured into the ring". Lena had done just that. With one passage alone, the very essence of a man long gone had been given shape in strokes of heartbreaking color.

It stuck with me for a very long time — and still has. The world of SHOH has made me cry many, many, times (I will probably ramble about them in the future as well, I apologize in advance 😔) (also yes the Thurl chapter was a DOOZY) but this just... stuck. It's an incredibly beautiful peace of writing, and I never tire of it no matter how many times I reread it.

Therefore, I was inspired to do something similar for Thorne! His essence — what would it feel like? What song would it sing unto the world, if it could?

The Godless Brightburner is supposed to be about showing Thorne's very essence. The Mage's Phantasms, meanwhile, was only supposed to contain little bits and pieces about Thorne. But I think I got a bit carried away there. That section is nowhere near little. 🗿

Aaaand, that's all. Thank you so much for reading this far, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed making it!! The world of SHOH is so breathtakingly crafted, its characters so beautifully alive — I'm glad I got to give Thorne his own special place within its seams.

Thank you very much to Yuki @yuuugay for making Thorne's portrait!! I am very KSDHGJKLSDG about him and everytime I look at him I lose the ability to speech 🥺🥺🥺 You've made him so, so beautiful — thank you! You've made me so incredibly happy!

Lastly, thank you to @shepherds-of-haven for commissioning this template for us: I had a lot of fun wandering through Blest with Thorne! Exploring the world of SHOH was an experience, one with a ton of tears, dismayed yelps, and laughter. Thank you so, so much for sharing it with us. I'm looking forward to seeing how the rest of this journey unfolds together. 🥺💖

Have a very good day, and I hope you all have just as much (if not more) fun as I did on your own playthroughs and template-filling endeavors! Good luck, and thank you again!! 💖🫡💐✨

[c4tto626]

🪽 ALTAIR THORNE

Spellblade. Former Antivan Crow. Blighted during a contract gone wrong. Severe scarring. Right-side vision partially lost. Conscripted into the Wardens. Lucky. Angry. Still skilled with a knife.

[boyslit]

made my HSR ocs Penelope and Thorne with the into the spiderverse picrew :3

Thorne is Hunt/Imaginary and while Penelope is a noncombatant I like to think she's on the path of the Beauty ('dead' Aeon or not) and if she had an element it would probably be quantum or wind

[six-of-snakes]

send me an ask with the name of one of my ocs and I'll give you a random fun fact about them

[dragongirlteeth]

(art by Ember, @.wizardsorbet)

This is Thorne, she's the result of a bunch of unethical experimentation intended to create a living weapon. Ultimately the surviving subjects escaped and took revenge on the project staff, and now it roams the galaxy on a stolen deuterium freighter.

She's still a dangerous asshole though, they didn't exactly teach her to be nice.

reblog this post with your fursona. doesnt even have to be art it can be a description. show me ur fursonas okay

[dragongirlintestines]

A Disappearance on the Entoran Trail

From an RP with @sunspot-stomachache

Content Warnings: Vore, Cruel Pred, Digestion, Bones.

4700 words.

Rain splashes heavily against the granite peaks of the Entoran Ridge. The rough, craggy stones funnel torrents of water down ancient ridges, forming rushing creeks perilous enough to make even a seasoned adventurer lose her step. The wind howls through the valleys, whipping up loose foliage and tossing debris all around.

Tieflings were not made for rain, as rarely do rains fall in their homeland. For one to be woefully caught unprepared in a storm, let alone amidst the Entoran Ridge, is what might be described as a nightmare. Every sharp droplet of rain which lands on one young tiefling’s green skin hisses with hate, met with such foreign heat. She is soon enveloped in steam, her own, and it’s unbearable. The cold and her own body heat wrestle within her. If she did not find shelter of some form soon, she’d surely end up blinded, by the storm or the steam.

Amidst the imposing range, a narrow hewn path carves its way along a cliff, and the lone traveler curses her luck. What light made it through the clouds was dimming, and the prospect of being caught out at night by some mountain beast further compounded her troubles. Up ahead, one shadowy overhang appeared to dig into the side of the mountain, offering a promise of some respite from the biting cold.

Stumbling across the cave is enough to almost make Sunspot thank the gods, though she bites back her forked tongue before she says such things. She shuffles inside, instantly finding solace from the whipping winds and arrow-like rain. Her tail flicks discontentedly, her clothes sopping wet, and her mood not much better. Luckily, what little firewood she did have was safely contained in her pack, and she sets about making a fire for herself to wait out the storm within the cavern.

Elsewhere, down a winding tunnel extending from the rear of the cavern, a perceptive adventurer might faintly make out the sounds of something snoring within. Atop a mound of coins and otherworldly artifacts, a beast breathes deep and slow, wrapped in slumber. The faint scent of fire winds its way down into one of her nostrils, and slowly, her electric blue eyes crack open. Sitting up, it stretches to its full 12' height, yawning wide. As it stands on its two powerful legs, a low rumble emanates from its guts, and it licks its lips, wondering about what snack could have disturbed its slumber.

Sunspot watches the smoke flow deeper and deeper into the cavern, the wind howling outside pushing it away. Her bright yellow eyes follow the trail drawn by the billowing gray, landing on the darkness further within. Her ears…twitch, flopping slightly as they do so. Someone, or something is in this cave. Her tail flicks a bit more, back and forth, no longer in discomfort. There’s a unique fear that bristles down her spine. “There’s only so many things that live within caves…” She thinks to herself, realizing she is not as safe as she might have wished.

The tiefling scrambles to her feet, bracing her hands against the smooth rock beneath her as she stands. Her fire continues to crackle, casting her shadow down the length of the cave. Her tail flicks, back and forth, back and forth. Back into the rain? Stand her ground? She can’t seem to make a decision.

Some kind of noise squeaks out of her and dies on her tongue.

As the dragon rounds the corner, Thorne takes another whiff of the smoke. She can smell sweat, wet clothes, tiefling, and fear. She thinks a moment. Her prey is already timid and ready to run, but going out in the storm to hunt would be so annoying, and she wouldn't want to risk a lovely meal falling down a ravine and spoiling the fun. She settles herself into a more friendly posture, stands up straight, and masks her hunger with a smile.

"I don't often get visitors here," she speaks, emerging from the darkness. Her voice is low and gravelly, but with a measured, gentle tone, as if speaking to a timid animal. "It's much warmer inside, you're welcome to stay if you like," she gestures towards the tunnel she emerged from.

A dragon. Sunspot’s tail almost stiffens in shock as her eyes meet Thorne’s gaze. She should run. Leave. Escape. Right? Running in the rain was a recipe for death, considering walking nearly sent her tumbling down the side of the ridge. Her gaze flicks away from the dragon for a moment to stare down at her soaked outfit, cloth and cotton clinging to her skin and leather weighing her down. Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be terrible.

“Kind of you,” She finally manages to eke out, her voice in an upper register with a bit of bubbliness beneath the fear, “I ah…didn’t expect the storm,” She admits, her tail beginning to soften.

Thorne suppresses a grin as she sees Sunspot freeze. The dragon takes one long step towards the campfire, then another, slowly crossing the cavern. I needs keep my demeanor measured and calm, she thinks to herself. Be a gracious host. Don't scare away such a tasty looking meal.

"The weather can be fickle, yes. But really, the pleasure is mine. I do so rarely get visitors," she replies, as she steps aside, no longer directly approaching the timid adventurer. "A warm place to rest is the least I could offer."

The dragon looks inquisitively at the tiefling, awaiting her response. A gnawing hunger urges her to pounce, but she fights it back. She's having fun leading this morsel on.

Sunspot’s nostrils flare slightly in surprise when Thorne begins closing the distance between the two of them, now realizing just how tall the dragon was compared to her. Her tail continues to flick back and forth, though not as stiff and violent as before. She takes a sparing step backward as Thorne nears her, surprised by just how much she loomed over her…dragons were large, she knew that, but seeing one in-person was quite a different experience than hearing of them, or seeing artworks.

“…my apologies,” She utters softly, straightening how she stood. Her eyes looked upward at Thorne, bright yellow irises swimming with a mixture of first impression fear and a lulled sense of security…

“If you’d lead the way? I believe you may know your home better than I, aheh.”

Thorne slowly turns on her heel, tail whipping around as if to accentuate the motion. A quick tug lifts the flailing limb to clear Sunspot's horns, almost an afterthought.

Sunspot warily dips her head down when the tail nearly whacks her horns, her breathing heightening for a moment in shock before she regains composure. Getting knocked out by a giant dragon tail was not how she’d like to spend her evening, that’s for certain. Though, she didn’t quite know what she was in for by any stretch of the imagination. Her campfire crackles behind her as she follows Thorne inside, not knowing that that’s likely the most that’ll be left of her.

The blue mass of the dragon's scales stride down the tunnel, every so often stopping her long strides to check that her "guest" is keeping up. A few hundred feet, and the tunnel opens into a more spacious cavern, evidently the conjunction of several ancient lava tubes, lit by faintly glowing crystal growths. Unlike the mouth of the cave, this conjunction is slightly more than pleasantly warm. In the center of it all, light twinkles and refracts from a pile of coins, gems, and exotic, almost alien, artifacts, the construction of which is evocative of the dragon's synthetic arm.

"Perhaps cliché, but I do hope it is to your liking," she chuckles, striding to the center of the room.

Sunspot marvels at the scenery of the cavern, her eyes sparkling a bit with the sight of the dragon’s hoard. She wouldn’t lie, it was quite tempting to grab something from the pile…though she knew what dragons would do to those who steal from their hoards.

“Very, ah…comfortable, Miss..?”

Thorne turns, fixing her gaze on Sunspot once again. She had the little morsel right where she wanted her.

"Thorne," She replies.

The dragon begins to pace around the tiefling, her tail trailing behind her like a serpent encircling its next meal. The facade would be up soon, and the gnawing hunger in her belly was growing impatient, but she wanted to see just how far she could lead this meal on.

"And how may I call you...?"

A growl from her belly threatens the charade.

Sunspot’s bright yellow eyes watch attentively as the dragon begins to encircle her, her tail once more beginning to flick back and forth in a reaction of danger. What was she to do? Turn tail and run? Perhaps if she stayed on the dragon’s good graces, she’d be able to make it out of whatever was to happen alive.

“Sunspot. You may call me S-” The growl from Thorne’s stomach cuts her off, “…Sunspot..”

Her eyes widen, and she looks upwards at Thorne with a shocked expression. The scent of fear once again fills Thorne's nostrils, and she sinks into a more predatory posture. The facade of hospitality gone, she stalks in a tightening circle, fully entrapping the gullible adventurer with her tail.

"Such a cute name, really," she growls, a low, predatory purr. It was time to break the terrible news.

Her tail tightens into a firm, but not yet crushing, grip. A single talon lifts Sunspot's chin, and a strand of saliva drips down onto the adventurous tiefling’s face.

"It's good to know the name of the meal that so kindly delivered herself to my lair."

Sunspot’s breathing hitches as she’s grabbed, the strength behind her tail proving that there was little to no chance of escape. Nevertheless, she still thrashes in Thorne’s grasp, coming to a tense stillness as her chin is tilted up.

Thorne leers down at her, tongue dancing along her lips. Her jaws crack open in a hint of a cruel grin as the breath catches in Sunspot's throat. The saliva makes her recoil, but there’s a strange mixture of admiration and absolute terror upon seeing the dragon’s face this close. Her eyes flick rapidly, and after a moment of staring in shocked silence and fear, she bites Thorne’s finger! Her teeth find purchase amidst the scales, but barely sink into the soft flesh, unable to pierce the dragon’s tough hide.

Surprised, Thorne feels a slight pressure in her finger, and realizes, with a slight chuckle, that her prey has bit her.

"Cute," she taunts. "But you'll need more than that to save you,"

The beast wrenches her finger out of Sunspot's mouth, eliciting a “GAH!” from the young woman, and grabs her by the horns. Instantly, Sunspot’s body tenses. Her horns are particularly sensitive to foreign touch, and her eyes roll back for a moment at the sudden pressure against her before she regains her composure. Well, perhaps ‘regains’ is not the right word.

Thorne forces her victim to watch as the dragon's jaws yawn open. The faint light of the cavern reflects off of glistening strands of drool. Sunspot’s eyes refocus as the maw before her opens, dripping with drool…and the dragon was drooling because of her.

Thorne leans in, dragging its tongue over the tiefling's neck and up the side of her face, tasting her. The tiefling fusses and kicks, trying to pull herself free from the grip Thorne has on her and recoiling away from the rough tongue as it drags across her neck and face, leaving a trail of drool alongside a patchwork of scratches…

"Mmmmm..." The dragon purrs, relishing the taste of her victim.

“…p-please, I- D-Dragon’s need familiar’s, right? I can- I can find other food, something or someone else! Just- Hhhnnn…” An adjustment of pressure from its grip shocks her horns’ nerves, “J-Just…put me down…don’t…e-eat me,” she pleads.

"let you bring me food..." Thorne pretends to consider for a moment, before her stomach interrupts her with another grrgggmmmbbbllll. "Or eat you now. My stomach is making a very convincing argument,"

Sunspot thinks for a moment, just a split second, that she did it. That for all the little mistakes she made stumbling in here, she managed to pull herself free from the fire she fell out of the frying pan into. And then there’s another stomach growl, and it might as well be a death knell.

Thorne tightens the grip of her tail, letting the tiefling's legs flail freely as she lifts the struggling morsel towards her jaws. Hot, humid air caresses Sunspot's head as her face is pressed fully into Thorne's mouth. The dragon's tongue squishes around her, slathering her in thick, slimy drool.

“NO-!”

Up goes the tiefling, thrashing and kicking her legs as hard as she can as her face is met with Thorne’s tongue once more, her head almost enveloped in nothing but the dragon’s maw…she tries to kick at Thorne’s tail, or dig her nails into her scales, or poke and prod with her own tail, just anything to wrench back control and escape!

The terrified exclamation of her prey echoes through Thorne's lair. Were Sunspot's face not threatened with imminent consumption, she might see the corners of the beast's jaws twitch into a cruel grin. As she squirms in the tail's grasp, a throaty chuckle rises up around her, and Thorne tightens her tail around the little appetizer's waist.

The claw forcing Sunspot's head down releases her horns, before the tiefling feels the threatening pressure of the dragon's teeth close around her collarbones. The dagger like fangs lightly pierce her skin, staining their tips in crimson ichor. The tip of Thorne's tongue probes these fresh wounds, drinking in the flavor.

"Mmmrrrrrrr..." Another satisfied growl rumbles up Thorne's gullet, shaking Sunspot's world around her.

The teeth pressing into her body, though the may not be gnashing, is further confirmation of what’s to come, alongside the fact that the efforts Sunspot had been making weren’t accomplishing much of anything. She winces as the dragon’s tongue presses against the marks her teeth have left. Not even her blood was safe from Thorne.

And moments later, neither was her body.

The familiar feeling of Thorne's meaty claws returns. Wicked talons grip the tiefling's torso, before wrenching away, tearing the upper half of her drenched outfit to shreds, and leaving shallow but bloody furrows in their wake.

Sunspot’s eyes widen within the dragon’s mouth when her outfit is ripped away, the rainwater almost making it easier. She feels the sting of Thorne’s talons, as well as the new temperature her body is met with. Damp with rainwater, her skin is glistening, though no doubt that would soon be replaced by drool.

*GLLK*

The dragon's maw shifts around Sunspot, forcing her head down into the beast's hungry throat, and her exposed chest follows into the dragon's jaws. A warm, wet caress plays along her chest as Thorne's tongue begins pulling her in. The flavor of blood and sweat soaks into her taste buds, eliciting a ravenous growl from within.

Again, talons grip into Sunspot's remaining clothes, groping her rear, before tearing the fabric from her meal. Soaked remnants of clothes fall to the ground, as Thorne's tail uncoils and she leans back, lifting her prey high into the air.

Aimlessly, Sunspot’s arms and hands try to grab onto something to find purchase and prevent herself from being swallowed, be it a molar or a uvula, hoping it may get Thorne to spit her back out, but the tiefling is far too panicky in her movements to actually make a good grip before she’s forced in deeper.

Her legs kick harder when Thorne’s tongue reaches her chest, and the sudden release of the massive tail around her lower half makes those kicks wild, not expecting a lack of force. It also, combined with the lift, pushes her in deeper.

Sunspot finds her head forced ever deeper down Thorne's gullet as she flails, but also soon finds herself on the receiving end of a vicious bite. The dragon did not expect quite such violent motion from her prey, and instinctively snapped her jaws closed, driving her fangs into the tiefling's meaty thighs.

“AH!”

Sunspot flinches and recoils in pain within Thorne’s throat as the fangs enter her thighs. She becomes tense and shaky, her body reacting to the pain by trying to keep the adrenaline pumping. Satisfied that her meal is well enough secured, the predator's tongue relaxes, and plays itself along the woman's chest, toying with the tasty treat. The tongue lapping at her breasts and nipples keeps the tiefling’s adrenaline pumping, but in a way Sunspot truly abhors.

*GLRRP*

Another swallow pulls Sunspot deeper, the pressure of Thorne's esophagus hungrily grabbing at her body. Sunspot’s arms are pinned to her side. Any attempt she had made to find purchase and slow her descent was useless, and now, she wouldn’t be able to make them anymore. She feels every part of Thorne’s throat squeezing and refusing to release, her squirms rendered little more than the occasional shift.

Meanwhile, Thorne's tongue continues its probing, teasing her victim's breasts one last time before slithering lower. Sunspot feels the muscle trace a slimy path down her torso, following rivulets of blood to lap at their source, before moving on to the next.

Eventually the tongue finds its way down to the tiefling's hips, sliding between the unfortunate woman's thighs. She tenses. This big, strong, drooly thing slides down her body with ease, and soon slips between her legs, eliciting an “EEP!” followed by more squirms. Thorne relaxes her jaws, and Sunspot feels the tongue press in, before...

*GLLLLPP*

Another throaty gulp pulls her hips fully to the back of the dragon's maw. The throat vibrates around her as Thorne moans in pleasure at her taste. Sunspot slides deeper once more. Her entire body rattles as the dragon moans, so much taste dancing on her tongue from just a small tiefling.

Thorne's throat bulges out as she takes one more big swallow, tossing the tiefling's hips into her gullet with one final, powerful thrust. Slowly, inexorably now, her prey's body glides downwards. Thorne dances her tongue one last time over the poor thing's ass, then thighs, then calves, and feet, rough taste buds scraping the last bits of flavor from them before they vanish forever into her guts.

Sunspot does her best to try and halt the process, to try and latch onto something before she slides down all the way to no avail. Her previous attempt coming up empty might’ve discouraged her from doing so, but nevertheless the fight to exist is still in her… despite the fact that she’s not even in the predator’s mouth anymore.

As the squirming morsel slides down Thorne's gullet, her best attempts to stop herself almost seem useless, until her descent briefly comes to a halt. Somehow, she realizes, she has managed to wedge herself somewhere. A muffled growl resonates from above, indicating just how deep she is.

Hah! Aha! Her horns, her tail, something had put a stop to this! Her bright eyes alight with darkvision as she realizes just how far down she is, but that doesn’t mean there’s no escape, right? She’s stopped! She kicks and squirms, hoping to activate a gag reflex or something. Maybe she could just climb back out of the dragon if she passes out or-

*GLLLLP*

“AGHH!!” Not a snowball’s chance in the Hells. What hope she might have had of choking the beast is quickly snuffed out, as another powerful swallow forces her back into a more manageable position.

Moments later, her journey pauses again, as her face is pressed against a ring of muscle. She cringes when her face presses against the muscle, filled with disgust even more than she was already. It slowly opens as the peristaltic motion of the esophagus eases the unfortunate tiefling through. Her nostrils are instantly assaulted by the sting of acids, while her body is slowly extruded into the stomach, falling with a faint splash into a pool of fluid. The cuts and wounds on Sunspot's body sting as they are submerged, the digestive enzymes eager to bite into the tender flesh.

She hisses in pain, pushing her head up above the pool and frantically looking around. There’s gotta be something she can do, right? Everything stings!

As her meal reaches her stomach, Thorne rubs her hand over the small bulge she makes. Live, struggling prey was always a pleasure to digest, and just in time, her latest victim was putting up a fight.

“RRRRGH!” The dragon’s meal puts all her strength behind a head butt against the stomach wall, hoping to dig her horns in! This does little outside of splash more acid.

Sunspot's horns slam into the wall of Thorne's stomach, and the dragon growls a soft "mmmmhhh" in response. Her stomach, however, is less pleased with the resistance, and the organ clenches against the struggling meal, forcing some air up Thorne's throat into a small “urp!” carrying with it the faint taste of tiefling. Thorne smiles at the taste, and, hungry for more, lets her tongue play along her lips and teeth to chase the last hints of Sunspot's flavor.

"Ahhhhh," she growls, "I really should thank you for delivering such a delicious meal."

Meanwhile, Sunspot tries to push against the sudden constriction, her hands shoving at the slick interior and trying to get more space within the claustrophobic confines of the dragon’s stomach. She grits her teeth and tries to head butt again, thumping her head and horns up against the wall once more!

The voice taunting her, echoing far above her, only serves to make her angrier in her thrashing escape attempt, despite the futility of it. At one point, she just punches the stomach lining, roaring out in a sobbing anger from within Thorne.

Belly laden with prey, Thorne lumbers lazily back towards her hoard, and settles her massive bulk amidst the coins and gems. As her prey writhes within her, each thrashing motion elicits a noise of sadistic pleasure, and the occasional churning response from her stomach.

"You're quite a lively one!" The dragon teases. "Got somewhere important to be?"

As Thorne mocks her meal, the acids in her stomach are heating up. What was a mild sting in an exposed wound has turned to full body irritation, scouring the outer skin of the struggling tiefling within.

Of course she had somewhere to be! She wasn’t just wandering around the ridge with no destination, and her final resting place was certainly not the one she had in mind! The unfortunate tiefling thinks to herself. She can’t quite respond to Thorne, though, as no doubt her growls of anger and sobs of panic were being drowned out by churning of the dragon’s stomach.

Speaking of being drowned out, the pain she was beginning to feel was drowning out a lot of her current feelings, and many sensations. There’s a sickly hissing, one that is followed by Sunspot’s own hiss of pain as her mind begins to get overwhelmed. It’s then that her thrashing becomes much more panicked and less calculated than before, not just trying to get out anymore, but also trying to escape the pain!

"I did say I had a nice warm place for you to stay, but if it's not to your liking, I won't come chasing if you can fight your way out," Thorne muses, reveling in the cruelty of her offer. "But I'm looking forward to feeling you soften down into a nice, filling meal."

With that taunt left to hang in the air, Thorne rolls onto her back, idly rubbing her boiling gut. Slowly, each contraction of her stomach softens the living meat within, and the dragon listened and felt with keen interest as thrashing struggles turned to despairing sobs.

“LIAR!!”

She mostly shouted it for herself, at this point. She feels her space once again shrink, the dragon’s stomach doing everything in its power to melt her down into nothing but sustenance…but she was so much more than that!

She was a person, not food!

Large hands press into her from outside, and she can do little but bat at their forms in an attempt to get the dragon to leave her alone, her breathing hitching as more and more of her body is enveloped in acid.

Thorne grins wickedly to herself as she listens to the little softening morsel's futile cries. The taste of denial and helplessness, when a little piece of meat like this soon to be former adventurer could not possibly accept their destiny as dinner, was more sublime than any blood or terror. Always mere moments before they finally gave in to her gut, she thinks to herself.

Thorne begins kneading her belly with both hands, with some intention helping it along, but mostly just feeling just how much her prey has softened.

"You're so close now, but I'll give you a choice," she offers, her voice honeyed with crooning mockery. "You can hang on a few more delicious minutes, and let my guts finish you, or," she pauses to let her claws find their target, "I can show you just how soft you are and finish you with one squeeze now."

Sunspot refused. She wouldn’t- She couldn’t end up like this! She was a proud tiefling, the mark of the continuation of bloodlines thought long since dead. She had to survive! She couldn’t just be dragon food!

She weakly squirms as the hands knead against her, whimpering at the further taunting before the claws press into her…she grits her teeth and kicks, trying to fight with what little was left…

"Mmmmyeaahh," Thorne purrs, thoroughly enjoying Sunspot's desperate struggles.

The tiefling's pride may have given her a burst of strength to struggle against fate, but Thorne's stomach is relentless. Though the dragon deigns not to end the adventurer immediately, the incessant roiling of her guts, assisted by the massaging of her claws, have softened her meal to the point of inevitability. Deeper below, Sunspot can hear the hungry gurgling of Thorne's intestines, ready to absorb a meaty tiefling soup. If she gives up fighting, but for a moment, she feels she will melt into mushy red chyme, never to return.

Sunspot’s breathing has slowed to gasps between momentary thrashing, her body simply reacting to the fact that she’s staring down her final moments. She tries to gather her strength for one last head butt, tries to slam her horns against Thorne’s claws, but all the dragon is treated to is one last pitiful thump before…

*GLLLLLLRRRRRSSSSHHHH*

As the tiefling makes her final, pitiful effort, Thorne's gut clenches down, melting softened flesh into nutritious soup. The dragon feels her victim finally succumb, and in a moment of ecstatic victory, lets out a roar that shakes the cavern.

Over the next few minutes, her stomach begins a vicious, churning cycle, until the only solid forms Thorne can feel are the faint outline of her latest victim's bones, slowly draining with the rest of the meal down deeper into her guts. She leans back, flopping into a euphoric post meal bliss, losing track of time in her pleasured haze.

It is only once her stomach has nearly fully drained that she begins to recover, feeling a slight bump pushing back up her gullet. Something solid, a little larger than her guts must have wanted to take. It eases up her throat, carried on a cushion of Sunspot's last breath, exiting with a faint burp.

Thorne looks down at the mysterious gastrolith, before chuckling to herself. Empty eye sockets look up at her from a polished skull, scoured clean of any sign of life. All that remains to hint at the tiefling who met her unfortunate end in the dragon's guts are her lovely curled horns, protruding from the skull's ivory white brow. A beautiful addition to her hoard, she thinks to herself, before sinking back into blissful, satiated slumber.

[dragongirlteeth]

Commissioned from Emb3rSwag!

[teliangel]

There's nothing more wonderful or more horrifying than someone who can relate to some of the worst parts of your life

[koilarist]

[ The Raven's Gaze ]

[astramachina]

what if. what if. I show you guys Dr. Thorne's character ref sheet. like. what if.

you guys enjoy 6'3" utterly fucking batshit women scientists, right? living OSHA violations with nothing but hatred for the government?

[snowthornes]

Good evening everyone, Yuki has killed me once again by drawing my OC Thorne as the Brightburner. @yuuugay thank u for ur service (again) I shall print this beautiful gorgeous splendorous masterpiece and display it pride of place on my inevitable funeral (death by beutisful arts)

[suppenzeit]

rant abt any of ur stex ocs. GO

um i will talk about two characters who i barely ever talk about because i don't have good images of either of them and haven't bothered to draw new ones </3

First up is Chesley the Chessie M-1. He's fucking huge, tall and strong, but so much more bark than bite. Acts more fussy and vain than people would assume a steamer to act. So very anxious, has a bad temper and some health problems he worries about. Loves the rest of his train a lot (Dahlia the dome car, Primrose the passenger coach, and Diedre the dining/theater car). Has a crush on Roscoe, the bobber caboose who lives in the same yard.

Next up is Thorne, cause I wanted Elektra to have a mom (tho Thorne uses they/he exclusively). Them having Elektra was basically an act of rebellion and they weren't the best parent one could have. A bit too harsh and cold at times, but they never didn't love Elektra.

At the current moment they just chill at a train equivalent of a resort, still being mean and bitchy, once in a while checking up on their little cygnet (Elektra). (EDIT: forgot to mention that he almost exclusively wears dusky pinks)