#oc: dion

[saevus-brutalis]

𝕯𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖞𝖘𝖊𝖚𝖘 ‘𝔇𝔦𝔬𝔫’ 𝕰𝖒𝖞𝖗 𝕯𝖎𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 | 𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔣𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔠𝔨-𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔡

me? posting art again? impossible

do not repost on other sites, pin, use or claim as your own. thanks [uncensored on X, eventually]

𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 (𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜):

༒︎ son to archdevil Bael and human mother Teheresse ༒︎ born in a huge litter, adopted and raised by an elven couple. was sadly treated more like a glorified pet than an equal; due to this Dion has an understandable dislike of elves. ༒︎ quite tall (208cm) and well-built for tiefling standards, with an unusually long tail ༒︎ bard, poet and artistic virtuoso turned runaway warlock after being framed for theft of a powerful artifact ༒︎ most of his life was spent in a brothel, where he was marketed as a highly exclusive male courtesan. sessions with him had to be booked sometimes months in advance. ༒︎ from a very early age Dion was highly sensitive to magic, has an ability to sense all things magical, can tell if someone was using a spell on something, someone or themselves. ༒︎ Dion – despite being a warlock later in life – is allergic to magic and magical potions. even with his Patron’s protection he has limited abilities and can only use magic for so long before developing symptoms. ༒︎ bottoms of his feet and hands are similar to cat’s paw pads. to soften slightly thicker and rougher skin Dion religiously moisturizes them. his skin is more leather-like and thicker than human’s ༒︎ after years of being forced to do sex work in a brothel to buy himself out of his debt, Dion developed a heavy dislike for beds and fancy house decor. too much luxury and splendor reminds him of his old room. instead Dion sleeps in massive nests on the floor made out of layers of sheets and blankets. ༒︎ he sleeps in an embryo position as he feels the safest in it, because it’s how he used to sleep with all of his siblings in one bed before being taken away. ༒︎ highly functioning alcoholic and a regular hashish user. he got into a bad habit of smoking at the age of 14 when he was first introduced to a hookah. he often drinks himself to sleep. prefers red wine. ༒︎ high charisma, there is rarely a situation he can’t talk himself out of

[kendsleyauthor]

🌊 Solitude + Discover + Quiver 🌊

Promptober 2023

Demigod Universe (Andreas and Dion)

~1500 words

A prequel to The Vineyard! Here is the exact moment that Dion realizes that his mysterious ex-lover, Andreas, is more than just a pretty face 😉

@marydublinauthor 🌸

Dion hadn’t worked in nearly two weeks. His fellow artists and craftspeople were growing more concerned by the day, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to the workshop. Couldn’t bring himself to face the inevitable questions of “Where is that handsome model that was tailing after you? What was his name? Andreas?”

With how swiftly Dion was falling behind on his tasks, he was lucky that his last few commissions had paid well. Anytime he sat at his home workbench with the intent of carving an amulet stone, his fingers wouldn’t respond. His mind would drift.

How could Andreas leave so abruptly? So coldly? Why wouldn’t he share what was sending him away?

Worry crowded Dion’s mind day and night. But his fretting was beginning to morph into bitterness. Perhaps Andreas had simply grown bored of him. 

He wandered daily. He was pitied at home, and he would be pitied in the workshops, so he secluded himself in the areas that he and Andreas used to escape to. Empty temples and rocky shorelines, mostly. Andreas seemed to favor the Dionysus temple near the beach at the edge of the island. 

“Of course it’s my favorite,” Andreas had said. “A temple honoring your namesake? How can I resist?”

That painfully charming smile and voice haunted him like infection in an open wound. He eyed the temple glumly. Although they had never done anything illicit in the temple itself, Dion had still worried they were being disrespectful, stealing away behind it.

“The god of wine and debauchery, offended?” Andreas scoffed. “Don’t you know anything?”

The temple sat lonely this evening. Visitors left offerings during the daytime—he caught glimpses of ripe grapes and bottles of wine. Dion wondered if his namesake ever got sick of being offered the same gifts. There was no one at his side to muse the idea with. Andreas probably would have laughed at the question.

Unable to look at the pillared structure for long, Dion ambled further and made his way along the shore. The waves roared, rushing in and out with more fervor than usual. The din wouldn’t silence his wounded thoughts.

He was being foolish, and he knew it. After all, it made sense that Andreas would leave his life as abruptly as he entered it. Someone as arrogant as him probably couldn’t stand to have only one admirer. He must have seen that Dion was getting too attached.

No matter how he tried to rationalize it, Andreas’ departure stung.

The island had weathered a storm just the other night. Clouds still gathered thickly over the beach, but the worst of it seemed to have passed. Drawing a deep breath, Dion tried to take the weather as a sign: the storm was over, and it was time to move on.

And yet, he swore every time he turned around that he would find Andreas watching him.

The water lapped aggressively at his heels. Perhaps remnants of the storm were still churning the ocean further away, creating an angry high tide. Lightning flashed in the distance, red in the dying light of the day. Too distant to worry about—yet.

A sound came from behind.

A wet dragging sound.

Dion froze and peeked over his shoulder. A choked noise caught in his throat as he staggered all the way around to face the source of the sound. 

He couldn’t comprehend exactly what he was seeing.

A grotesque creature was pulling itself from the waves—nearly twice his size. Its upper body was the bluish-green hue of a waterlogged man, but the bottom half seemed to shift between different forms, like it couldn’t decide whether to have the scales of a fish or sleek fur of a seal. 

Finally, it consolidated its form into fully humanoid to stand on the shore.

“Gods…” Dion swore, blood draining from his face.

There were more creatures, at least half a dozen, dragging themselves up to stand and locking eyes on him. He shuffled back as they spoke to each other in a strange language he couldn’t comprehend. But as they advanced, their intention was clear: they wanted him.

Telkhines. Shapeshifting creatures from the sea. He had never heard of these creatures on his island before, and he had little clue what he had done to invoke their ire.

He turned on his heel and started running clumsily on the wet sand.

He didn’t make it far before one of the telkhines seized him. Webbed hands locked around his arms, amphibious skin slick but brutal. At once, he fell face fist in the sand. Even one of the towering creatures could overpower him, but before long, three of them were dragging him into the water. 

“H-help!” His voice was raw as he coughed on sea water. He let out a guttural scream, but no one was around.

The world shook. It might have been the storm, miraculously approaching from a distance.

Water churned violently around him as the telkhines were torn away. Heaving, Dion scrambled in the rocky water. His eyes stung with salt as he struggled to make sense of the massive new addition to his surroundings.

High overhead, there was a shadow. He suddenly felt so foolish thinking the telkhines were huge. This new figure was perfectly humanoid in shape. Except it must have towered nearly as a high as the temple.

A fresh wave of fear gripped Dion. He clawed his way behind one of the rocks, gasping and coughing. 

When he’d screamed for help, he certainly hadn’t expected a giant to answer the call.

It had to be a god or demigod. Perhaps he’d gotten caught in the middle of some altercation. He couldn’t imagine that the giant was intervening with the intent to save him. He peeked out in time to see a pair of monstrously tremendous hands rip apart one of the telkhines. Rather than gore, the unfortunate creature’s corpse rained down as seafoam.

The other monsters fled, diving into the water and rushing straight past Dion without taking notice of him. He ducked anyway, quivering in his hiding place. His fingers dug painfully into the rock as he fought to keep himself grounded against the vicious current.

Other than the lapping water, there was silence.

Leave, Dion willed the giant. Leave me alone.

There was no movement.

Gods and demigods had the ability to vanish into thin air, he had heard. Perhaps the giant had already left. Trembling and breathing shallowly, Dion peeked around the rock. His heart dropped when he saw the giant knelt directly on the other side, leaning closer as though to take a curious look at the cowering mortal.

The giant flinched, apparently just as startled. His eyes were a rich, maddening shade of purple. His skin was sun-bronzed and smooth. His full lips parted with a small intake of air as they regarded each other.

And Dion knew he had gone absolutely crazy, because the giant looked like Andreas. 

The giant was Andreas.

For a second, they merely gaped. Then Andreas broke into a familiar, charming smile. His chuckle made Dion shrink away. The smile became tense, uncertain.

“I thought that might be you,” Andreas said, his voice achingly familiar but terrifyingly big.

Dion didn’t answer, shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“Alright, I knew it was you,” Andreas admitted. 

The water shifted. One of the monstrous hands that had ripped apart the telkhine was fast approaching, filling Dion’s vision.

With what little air he had, Dion released a choked scream and lunged backward. His footing scrambled for purchase on the sharp rocks of the sea floor. He didn’t care if the current pulled him straight into the jaws of Charybdis. He could not allow that hand to touch him.

But true to himself as ever, Andreas got what he wanted. 

“Come now, you’d rather drown than see me? That’s rude of you.” Andreas pushed forward, blocking Dion’s escape and locking his fingers around his waist. 

“Let go,” Dion croaked out as he was lifted from the water. He squirmed, inspiring Andreas to grip him tighter. His vision swam as his senses were overwhelmed. He fought the urge to black out—vulnerable as he was now, he couldn’t afford to be unconscious around this monster. “Let go!”

“I’d rather not,” Andreas said as he rose to his full height. 

Gods, Dion was so far off the ground. 

Tearing his eyes away from the deadly fall, he made the mistake of meeting Andreas’ gaze. Even when held at chest level with the giant, Dion had to crane his neck. A frown creased Andreas’ brow as he regarded him. His eyes drifted away to the distance, then lit up as if he had a brilliant idea.

“The temple,” he said in that excited way of his when his words couldn’t keep up with his thoughts. “We’ll go to the temple. It’s a much more pleasant place to talk, I can assure you.”

Dion didn’t have the energy to protest—not that he would have been listened to, anyway. He faded in and out of consciousness as he was whisked away from the beach and carried high above the scraggly field that led up to the temple.

He gave up on fighting and buried his face in his hands, severely regretting the day he had laid eyes on Andreas.

[miasmat]

Tagged for an ask meme - spell out your URL using song titles that can describe your muse/OC/pairings, then tag as many people as there are letters in your URL! I got tagged by @laindtt (almost a month ago I'm so sorry ;w; ) thank you so much!

Mountain Sound by Of Monsters and Men - Arcade Gannon

I heard them calling in the distance So I packed my things and ran Far away from all the trouble I had caused with my two hands Alone we traveled armed with nothing but a shadow We fled far away

I Found by Amber Run - Beckett/Seth

I'll use you as a warning sign That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind And I'll use you as a focal point So I don't lose sight of what I want And I've moved further than I thought I could But I missed you more than I thought I would And I'll use you as a warning sign That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

Aawake At Night by Half Alive - Seth Trenton

I've wrestled with the truth for quite some time And I've been drowning in this restless mind I'm sick of being so unsatisfied Tell me that the answer's right God, are you awake at night? 'Cause I've been abandoned by my company I'll search for what's in front of me And hope that I find something new

Shelter by FINNEAS - Ian/Dion

There's no way out, the city sinks into the sea But if we go down, at least I'm in good company They call us hasty, and I think they might be right But I know that I'd be crazy Not to wanna be the one to keep you up all night Give me, give me shelter from the storm Give me, give me shelter, keep me warm Come kiss me by the delta, where the river's torn But I'll be whole As long as I'm yours Mystic by Adam Jensen - Johnny Silverhand

Tell the preacher not to pray There's no angels where I go Only pieces that I broke and Scattered dreams across the floor I'm home

Anti You by Blue Stahli - V

Another command to succumb To sucking you off with a smile A vanity culture like a congregation Identity dogmatism The image is always in style Stroking the ego with media masturbation Conditioning to canonize Gospel of this vox populi

Force feeding Misleading I'm burning the altar And I'll pass right through

Erasing Debasing I want to be the anti you

The Rain Song by Led Zeppelin - Cuthbert Beckett

It is the springtime of my loving The second season I am to know You are the sunlight in my growing So little warmth I've felt before It isn't hard to feel me glowing I watched the fire that grew so low, oh

[tonythepizzaguy]

inktober 2: spider

[sakokii]

my tiefling bard - Dion! he's a noble with a failed music career

(the cringefail king)

[flowerxguts]

…—————＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ OC FICLET ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊—————…

“Eleanor, you’ve got to be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Can you take me seriously!?”

Eleanor is hot on her older brothers heels, arms thrown out incredulously. There’s something border-lining hatred in her eyes.

Dion walks briskly in-front of her, aggravation motivating his fast-pace movements. He beelines straight for the kitchen, hoping to avoid blowing up at his sister, but her stubborn nature causes her to follow him.

She cannot see the tenseness in his brow, the way his lips twitch, the sting of her proposal sour. Once he reaches the sink, he half-slams the dishes down, narrowly missing the strength to break them.

“No.” His voice is rough, emotion he was hoping to hide bleeding through.

“Oh, no?” She questions rhetorically, her mocking manner evident in the way she tilts her head to the side. “You get to make all my life choices now?”

“Yes!” He yells over the running water, trying his best to focus on cleaning their dinner plates. He can feel his patience ticking with each second, so he keeps his responses short. He’s afraid of what he’ll say if Eleanor doesn’t stop relenting.

This conversation is not one he wanted to have. Their mom should be out of the picture by now, an unfortunate memory in the back of his mind, and a vague figment in Eleanor’s.

He doesn’t understand why she thought it would be okay to reach out, and only to Eleanor at that. Perhaps she knew he would see right through her false promises and pretty words. Because at the end of the day, Dion knew who his mom was. Eleanor didn’t. He saved her from that.

“Can you at least look at me when I’m trying to talk to you?!”

Dion snaps.

“That woman is nothing but a self-absorbed addict, Eleanor! She’s never going to change! She’s always gonna be a fucking liar!” Eleanor tries to cut in, defend her case, but Dion continues, only growing more worked up. “You want to run back there? Who raised you?” He asks, jabbing his finger in her face. “I did.”

Once again, Eleanor opens her mouth for a rebuttal, but is cut short when her brother takes a step towards her, “After everything i’ve sacrificed to make sure you didn’t have to go through what I did?” Dion breaks, the unexpected voice crack an unfortunate sign of youth that makes his argument all the more painful.

“You’re not listening to me.” Eleanor pleads in pure frustration.

A part of her understands her brothers outburst. This wasn’t a subject he would ever want to discuss, but it was happening, and she wishes he would face it. If he would just listen for more than twenty seconds she could get her point across, express that she wasn’t proposing “all is forgiven”, and running back to her. She wanted to visit their mom, test the waters. She believes everyone is deserving of redemption.

“You want to go see her?” Dion asks, demanding tone causing Eleanor to take a step back. He leans forward until he is in her face and it is only then Eleanor truly registers the look in his eyes. Betrayal. “Go ahead, but don’t bother coming back here.”

Her brothers words are said completely level, the contrast stark to his previous yelling. He is serious, or at least presenting himself as it, because the sudden resentment in his voice is more than convincing.

“Di—“ She tries, voice meek. He doesn’t listen, narrowing his eyes the slightest bit more before standing up straight and stalking off to his room.

Eleanor stands alone in the kitchen, a loss for words.

Dion was stubborn, maybe even more so than her. He was stuck in his ways and impossible to get through too without a big scene with an even bigger action following.

She was shaken by his words, yes, but ultimately did not believe them. If he wanted to play it that way, fine.

Eleanor scrunches her nose, nails slicing her palm. She takes off towards the direction of her room, determined to make Dion hear her.

She packs her bags.

[esuterunokitsune]

Afternoon reading

[ochitea]

[2022] i thought i posted these here but i never did

toyhouse avatars -w-

[kurawra]

the rare tumblr art post because this is sfw and isn't an awkward size that will make my perfectionist brain angry

[ladyshivs]

@rockboci made this amazing piece for my birthday! Thank you again darling, I love it so much 🥰

Featuring my OC trio of idiots enjoying a rare moment of calm and warmth together

from left to right: Xenethrian, Ilvada and Steig

[saevus-brutalis]

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞; 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧

this definitely wasn’t sitting in my drafts since February🧚🏻‍♂️ and i definitely am not working on his complete re-desing rn ajhsd

some more random lore blurbs beneath;

in an effort to reduce the negative effects of using magic Dion wears protective gloves made of leather impregnated with rune oils; under which he keeps his hands wrapped in bandages covered with healing ointments that slow down the degeneration process

in an effort to reduce the negative effects of using magic Dion wears protective gloves made of leather impregnated with rune oils; under which he keeps his hands wrapped in bandages covered with healing ointments that slow down the degeneration process

to blend in with the humans of Faerûn, and avoid prejudice based on his devilish appearance, Dion - using a shapeshifting stone - takes on a form of a human version of himself

while terribly allergic to spell casting and enchanted potions, Dion tends to have a lesser tendency to react to magic stones, run oils and herbalism

[kendsleyauthor]

The Vineyard

Demigod Universe

~2000 words

Meet Andreas and Dion! Their universe is still being fleshed out, but there is some extra context about in the author's notes below the story!

Summary: After being rescued by a giant demigod--who also happens to be his ex-lover--Dion awakens in a giant, otherworldly vineyard.

@marydublinauthor 🌸

Sunlight. 

He winced and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. No. Sunlight didn’t make sense. He couldn’t have blacked out for more than a few minutes, yet the night sky had been replaced with daylight. A breeze stirred floral notes in the air—that made no sense, either. 

He groaned and tried to move. The surface beneath him was warm. Not only that, it was cradling him. 

Andreas still had a hold on him.

Gasping, Dion opened his eyes and looked straight up to find that familiar—though impossibly huge—face looming over him. 

A choked noise rattled in Dion’s throat. “Where am I?” 

“You’re with me,” Andreas said, infuriatingly calm. His voice… Dion had once melted at the sound of his voice, but now it overwhelmed his senses.

He looked around wildly. Blessedly, he wasn’t clutched in a tight fist. Fingers and palms surrounded him like a hammock, allowing him a cursory glance around him. They were in an open-air cloth pavilion made of rich purple fabrics. Beyond that, the world was lush green. A blindingly green vineyard. 

“Where have you brought me?” Dion croaked. “The Underworld?”

“Gods, that’s the last place I’d bring you. Hades would have a fit if you crossed the Styx without proper payment.” He chuckled as if this was somehow funny.  “Relax. We haven’t left the temple.”

Andreas’ eyes, nearly the same purple as the pavilion, stayed locked on him. Mischief was buried in that gaze—it had once been endearing. Now, it was terrifying. He cupped one of his hands, helping Dion sit up in his palm. Dion leaned away from the contact, but it was useless. Everything that supported him at the moment was contact.

“This isn’t the temple,” Dion said, shaking his head.

“I can assure you, it is.”

Dion shuddered, too furious and frightened to focus on one feeling over the other. “We are not. In the temple.”

“Evidence?”

“There’s no fucking ceiling!”

If Andreas was upset about a lowly mortal yelling at him, he didn’t show it. He squinted at the fields outside the pavilion and hummed like he only just noticed the endless blue sky and puffy clouds. “So there isn’t,” he conceded. “Well, the explanation is rather complicated and dull. I’d rather not get into it.”

How convenient, considering this place was suited to Andreas. The pavilion had a kline that was sized for people like him. Two tables flanked it, bearing platters that were piled with grapes. The terracotta jars undoubtedly held wine, surrounded by several colorful glasses. All of it enormous.

Gods, where has he dragged me?

“Your heartbeat isn’t slowing,” Andreas said, brows pulling into a concerned frown. “You have nothing to fear, Dion. I—”

“Put me down.” Dion pushed at two of the intrusive fingers around him, which uncurled only slightly before relaxing back into place.

“I know what you’re going to do, and it isn’t going to help. So I suggest we skip that part.”

Dion wanted to shove him bodily, but all he could reach was Andreas’ fingers again. “You have no idea what I’m going to do.”

“You’re going to run. Clever as you are, you’re still a mortal. And you’re going to run.”

An angry lump lodged in Dion’s throat. This was nothing more than a game to him, wasn’t it? “Put me down. Now.”

Andreas gave a dramatic, long-suffering sigh. “Very well. Run to your heart’s content. I’m not saying that I hope you trip and knock some sense into yourself, but I’m not strongly opposed to the idea, either.”

To Dion’s surprise, Andreas lowered him toward the wooden floor of the pavilion. His stomach churned at the dizzying swiftness of it, but before he knew it, he was scrambling onto solid ground. Without waiting for further permission, he bolted for the nearest edge of the pavilion. He kept his eyes set on the fields, shivering with each step of his sprint, certain that Andreas would give chase to toy with him. But soon enough, he’d left the shadow of the pavilion, and no thunderous footsteps followed him. He slowed briefly, glancing around before he bolted in a random direction.

Everything was massive. Everything. The grape plants towered higher than any building he’d ever seen, and the grapes themselves may as well have been purple watermelons. He could have used fallen leaves as a parasol. 

He vaulted over rocks and roots, not slowing again until he could peek behind him without seeing the pavilion.

Once it was out of sight, his gait stuttered a jog so he could catch his breath—something he’d had no control over since waking up in this strange place. His legs ached, and his lungs burned. His frantic choice began to sink in. He’d run off, and he likely was not even in the mortal realm anymore. Andreas may have joked that this wasn’t the Underworld, but surely this couldn’t be Olympus, either.

There had to be a way home, but that would have to wait. If Andreas did decide to come after him, he needed to be as far away as possible to have a fighting chance. Perhaps once he was out of the fields, he could find somewhere to hide.

Dion pressed forward. Soon enough, something rose in the distance beyond the mammoth leaves. To his horror, it was another pavilion, rich purple just like the one he’d left behind. He held his breath and crept to the last plant that divided the field from the clearing.

He caught movement. Another giant occupant was in this pavilion. He shifted a few rows down, feeling more and more like a field mouse eyeing a predator. Except, as he narrowed his eyes, he recognized this particular predator.

Andreas.

No, that couldn’t be right. Dion looked behind him, then turned in a slow circle. It was impossible. He’d run in a straight line, following a single row of grape plants, he was sure of it. Breathing heavily, he staggered forward without thinking and put himself in plain sight.

Andreas was laying on the kline with his arms tucked behind his head and an ankle resting on his knee. It was a terribly familiar pose—one that clawed at Dion’s traitorously broken heart.

How on Earth has someone as lazy as you survived this long?

He’d asked Andreas that question more than once, and finally, he had his answer. All that charm and arrogance came solely from his status as a demigod. He couldn’t begin to fathom why Andreas would bother posing as a mortal for so many months—except to play with the fragile heart of a foolish mortal.

Andreas didn’t look his way. “Was it enlightening, your run?”

His casual tone ignited another bout of wrathful frustration. But Dion couldn’t fight a living monument. He instead took his anger and put it into another sprint. He chose a different direction and bolted, running even faster when he heard Andreas sigh in agitation.

Dion didn’t stop this time, moving in a straight line. Sure enough, he arrived back at the pavilion from the exact opposite direction. His pulse pounded through every inch of his body, limbs trembling from the exertion. Impossible. The same kind of impossible that must have brought him here in the first place.

It all stemmed from Andreas.

It was tempting to let exhaustion take over, to black out again. Dion nearly allowed it. Perhaps when he opened his eyes again, he’d wake up where things made sense. He wavered on the clearing ground between the field and the pavilion.

Andreas lethargically let his hand fall to the floor, palm up. A finger beckoned invitingly in Dion’s direction. “If you’re tired…”

Snapping out of his exhaustion, Dion started in a different direction to make another attempt. Before he even reached the field, a crackling sound rang around him. A vine, thick as his arm, burst from the ground and wrapped around his wrist. Jerking to a hard stop, he whirled in Andreas’ direction and clawed at the vine.

Andreas sat at the edge of the kline, one hand extended toward him. He dragged that hand down his face, then stood, coming for him. Although Dion had been surrounded by the towering grape vines, he had quickly forgotten what it was like to be near Andreas at full height. Especially from the ground.

“Stay away!” Dion hated the note of fear in his voice. Naturally, Andreas didn’t listen.

All his life, he’d done everything in his power to avoid the attention of the gods—whether through gaining their favor or angering them. It never seemed to end well for anyone. And now here he was, at the mercy of a petulant ex-lover who happened to be the offspring of the very thing he feared.

The ground rattled as Andreas dropped to one knee in front of him. Ignoring Dion’s increasingly frantic protests, Andreas pulled him into his grasp and snapped the vine to claim him entirely.

Andreas didn’t stand right away. He kept his hand near the ground, watching Dion struggle. “Why fight?” Andreas said. “You know you’ll end up here again if you run. There’s nowhere to go. It is I who allowed you to enter the true form of the temple. And it is I who decides when you may leave.”

“And when,” Dion panted, kicking for all he was worth, “will that be, exactly?”

“When you stop panicking, allow me to explain myself, and truly listen.”

Dion scoffed, his effort slowing from sheer exhaustion. “Why should I? Why did you even bring me here? You left me.”

Andreas pursed his lips. Remorse hovered above the glint of amusement. Dion didn’t believe it for a second, not even when Andreas’ voice softened pleadingly. “I didn’t want to, if that makes any difference.”

Dion turned his head to avoid his gaze. All he could think about were the dark days of the past few months. Andreas had abandoned him with vague explanations. I must go. And I will not return. No… No, love, you can’t come with me. I’m sorry. Don’t try to follow me. If it’s the last thing you ever do, please don’t follow me. 

Dion had experienced plenty of cloudy moods long before Andreas had sauntered into his life, but this was a fresh wound, still weeping profusely.

“It doesn’t,” Dion said flatly.

“That’s a shame.”

Andreas stood without warning, and Dion nearly left his dinner behind in the process. Although he couldn’t fight with the same vigor as before, he began squirming again—if only to let Andreas know that he was still not pleased with being handled. 

The massive hand lowered to the cushion of the kline. Although the fingers opened, they did not release him entirely. Fingertips forced Dion onto his back in a stunning turn of aggression. He gave a winded cry as he was pinned.

“Andreas—” He twisted side to side viciously, but he couldn’t buck the heavy hand off. “A-Andreas, what—”

“Close your eyes,” Andreas said. 

Dion was foolish. Utterly foolish. There he had been, worried out of his mind that Andreas had gotten himself killed when he left Dion behind. All along, he’d been a monster himself. A demigod—a being that was volatile, dominant, and entitled enough to take whatever he wanted. Including Dion.

In his efforts, he accidentally obeyed Andreas and squeezed his eyes shut. Something shifted around him—it took less than a blink. When he opened his eyes, it wasn’t a hand that was pinning him anymore.

Andreas, mortal-sized once more, was on top of him instead. The kline itself was mortal-sized. And the pavilion. The tables, the jars, and the fields.

“There,” Andreas said with dramatic defeat. “Are you less frightened of me now?” 

Andreas was straddling him and pinning both his wrists, nearly nose-to-nose with Dion’s face. It wasn’t at all an unfamiliar position to be in with him. But his eyes… That unfamiliar, otherworldly purple color. Dion had to look away, focusing on the fields instead.

Dion wet his lips. “How did you—”

“As I said, boring details. Painfully boring. But if you must know, the temple adjusts to the size of the most powerful being within.” He released one of Dion’s wrists and pointed at himself. Then he dismounted, allowing Dion to jolt off of the kline. Andreas lounged back on the cushion to replace him. “Don’t get used to it. Now that I have been restored, I can’t stand being this way for very long.”

“W-why?” Dion shuffled backward to the edge of the pavilion.

Andreas shrugged one shoulder. “It’s confining.”

A breathless laugh, devoid of humor, flew from Dion’s lips. “You poor thing,” he said sourly.

“There. You’re already beginning to sound more like yourself. Now. Let’s talk?”

((A/N: Andreas is a demigod/size-shifter who was cursed to live as a mortal for a period of time. Dion is a mortal who helped Andreas out, not knowing the truth about what he really is.

They fell in love, but with the curse about to be at its end, Andreas decided to dip out of Dion's life entirely instead of dealing with the messy situation of the truth.

Heartbroken and bitter, Dion is certain that he'll never see Andreas again. However, Dion is attacked. He narrowly survives, rescued by a giant size-shifting demigod, who turns out to be Andreas himself. After blacking out, Dion awakens in the vineyard, kicking off the start of the story above.

Whaddaya think? 😉🍇))

[thefoxesraven]

In honor of @jtl-fics putting my sons and her son and their babies in their fic TBD I commissioned @emry-stars-art to draw the said kiddos for Ash!

[tonythepizzaguy]

inktober 4: dodge

[greyspaceghost]

Updated their character reference sheets

[flowerxguts]

“Woah! Woah! Hey— what did I tell you about bringing in strays?” Dion asks, practically shouting at Damien as he rushes up behind him. “You brought in Morgan and look what happened! Now we have to keep her.” Damien stops and turns his head just as Dion places his hands on his hips, cocking an eyebrow as if to ask: what the hell are you thinking?

Damien frowns, glancing down to the sleeping figure in his arms. He repositions them closer now that he isn’t walking, once again settling their body against his chest. He can feel Rhino shift a little after the action, pushing their nose further into the crook of his neck as their arms wind a little tighter over his shoulders.

He looks back towards Dion, who widens his eyes and throws his hands out in a motion that he knows means: say something!

“It’s Rhino.” Damien states, voice thick with emotion. He doesn’t say anything more because that’s all the reason he should need.

“Holy shit—“ Dion’s impatient face morphs into shock quickly, “That’s Rhino?” He asks, jutting a finger towards the kid.

“Uh-huh.”

Damien turns to face Dion now, showing him Rhino in full. He opens the palms of his hands for a split second, in a here they are! manner.

Dion’s eyes are scanning around, complete bewilderment dancing within them.

Damien understands Dion’s awe at Rhino, they’ve only ever been a story to his friend. In fact, Dion, on numerous occasions, had even dubbed Rhino “not real” because the stories of the kid were “too outlandish to be true”. Morgan swore she never made any of it up, and Damien backed her, but Dion still laughed it off.

“The hell’d you find them?” He asks, finally making eye contact with Damien again.

Finding Rhino was not something Damien was expecting. He hadn’t so much as heard Rhinos name in two years. The kid was a loose canon, always off creating or aiding in making a mess of things. Unfortunately, this mess was usually political or illegal, so Damien is aware he could be harboring a fugitive.

“Outskirts of Rosewell.” He answers honestly.

“Rosewell?” He repeats. “What the fuck were you doing two towns over?” Dion’s nose scrunches in confusion.

“Eeeeuhhh- taking a walk.”