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 I got a couple of movies from Netflix and they had these cool Halloween-themed mailers. Maybe I’m easily amused, but they’re kind of nifty!

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Sharing space is nothing new. Sharing bathrooms is nothing new. The reactionary outrage is so manufactured.

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i like that 13 reasons why's cultural impact is how poorly it handled suicide and sexual assault as well as inventing a new way for people to say they're going to kill themselves

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I did it. After a lifetime of using light mode on all my devices, I switched to dark mode. My eyes just can’t take it anymore, and after a few days of using it, I decided dark mode was actually kind of cozy and nice. So it was time to update my light mode art with a new version!

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Let me be soft and wanted. I want someone to just be so enamored by me that they can't help be a little possessive, so they cover me in kisses and gentle touches to have me completely melted beneath them. Absolutely needing to see me cum from their handiwork, having me undone all for them.

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phone: *rings*

me: no

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Buy her flowers

Murder her enemies

Give her the dick.

In that order

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blog goals: making someone feel a little less sad

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June's story is a huge one, folks!

Drow x drider x gn reader:

(That's in addition to the first 4 chapters of the first of the Willow Creek werewolves stories, which are now free to read for everyone on Patreon (except for any nsfw chapters, due to Patreon's rules for 18+ creators)

Long preview below the cut:

Hi friends. Sorry it's so late. It turned into an absolute behemoth (just shy of 12k words!) but I hope you enjoy it all the same. I had planned a cute kitsune 'rivals to friends to lovers' story, but since there's been an overabundance of furry canines on here lately with the Willow Creek lads, I thought we'd go for something a bit different. It's set in the D&D universe/world, and as such, check the warnings for drow culture and attitudes. Content: gn reader joins the Adventurer's Guild after a previously sheltered life, and gets sent on their first Trial with the Guild to the Underdark. They don't have to go alone, however, but while down in the caverns, things do not go as planned. After a life-threatening incident, they meet someone from their current lover's past, and they have to make a decision about the shape of their future. Warnings: threat to life, arrow injury (not to reader), shock, discussion of sexual slavery of male drow by matriarchal society, mention of escape from that life, burn scar, non-consensual transformation of body (drider rite), insecurity about relationship's future, sexually submissive reader, sexually Dominant drow partner, sexually submissive drider, eventual healthy poly relationship. If anything else needs a warning, please let me know. Wordcount: 11,969

Finding light in the Underdark might have seemed a contradiction, given that you’d been advised by your mentor at the Adventurer’s Guild not to bring a torch with you, or at the very least, not to go waving one around. And yet, down there in the chill, damp depths, there was light… everywhere. Lyal’lin had been right — while the Underdark was certainly aptly-named, it wasn’t a pitch black void either. It had its beauty, even for a runaway drow like Lyal’lin. 

 Still, your mentor, the gruff old duergar at the Guild had shaken his head at you and looked you — their newest recruit, and a rather (in his words) ‘soft’ human, with not all that much experience beyond what you’d gleaned in the city library’s vast archives — up and down. The cavernous sigh that had left his lips, puffed out through his short, wiry, white beard, had filled your heart with sinking dread. 

“You’re not ready, kid,” he’d said, not unkindly. “I know Tara thinks she’s doing you a favour, sending you out for your first Trial, but there’s more you need to learn. And sending you to the Underdark?” He’d shaken his grizzled head, and then surprised you by doing something he’d never done before. He’d taken you by the hand and squeezed your parchment-soft fingers in his own sandpaper rough ones. “At least you’re not going alone,” he sighed again, patting your hand before letting go and stepping back as he cleared his throat. 

You assayed a smile and nodded, a little choked at the older adventurer’s uncharacteristic display of affection for his new pupil. And to think, he hadn’t wanted to take on the ‘pampered child of some human noble house’ as a pupil at all. Well, you’d surely shown him, and everyone else besides. You rather suspected your comfortable upbringing was one of the reasons Tara had selected the Underdark for your first Trial. After all, if you survived a foray into the wild, fungi-infested depths and returned to tell the tale, you’d have truly earned your first stripes with the Guild.

In the six months that you’d been an apprentice, Maclen had taught you how to follow simple animal sign in the fields and woodlands around the town where that particular Guild House was situated; taught you to make almost no noise as you stalked through the underbrush — you were still working on that one — and he’d taught you how to recognise species of plant, fungi, and tree out in the wild. Evidently, things didn’t always look as neat and perfect as the immaculate illustrations in your field guide. He’d also taught you the basics of hand to hand combat — nothing fancy like the monk Tavrir’s training in the temple, of course — and the very basics of fencing and sword work. Archery was proving harder, but you were getting better and stronger each week. 

Maclen hadn’t taught you to ride a horse though. He thought the beasts were ‘damned idiotic death traps with only half a functioning brain’. No, Lyal’lin had done that. A familiar giddy rush went through you as you thought about him. Maclen hadn’t yet told him he’d been assigned to accompany you on your Trial, as both your assessor and your guide, but you suspected the drow was not going to be happy about it. 

You waited while Maclen briefed you on the rest of your task — the Guild had been contracted to go into the Underdark to locate and retrieve enough of a rare, deep mushroom that sold for an absolute fortune on the surface — and once the duergar was done, you nodded and took your leave, heading for the stables where you were sure to find Lyal’lin. 

Sure enough, you found the drow with his head bowed, resting forehead to forehead with the huge, dark stallion he’d spent the last two years backing and training. It was rare for drow with magic to become druids, but, long ago, Lyal’lin had found refuge with an open-minded group of druids and had become a member of the Circle of the Land. 

The stallion spotted you first, his ear twitching slightly, but other than that, neither of them moved, and you watched for a while, lingering silently in the doorway of the wooden barn that abutted the main manor house. Apparently the whole estate had been donated to the Guild in some rich merchant’s will seventy years ago, when Tara had taken it over as one of the Guildmasters. 

You’d been grateful to the wood elf and her rag-tag crew of adventurers for giving you a chance. They were a rough bunch, and most with tough lives behind them for one reason or another, but while some still had their doubts about you and your ability to bring in cash for the Guild — and survive while doing it — none of them had been openly cruel. 

Without looking around or breaking off from where he was rubbing his dusky, lilac-grey knuckles over the whorl on the stallion’s forehead, Lyal'lin chuckled softly and asked, “What are you doing, lurking back there like a cloaker?”

“You think I’m quiet enough to pass as a cloaker?” you replied, stepping into the barn properly and inhaling the sharp tang of horse and hay. 

“No,” he replied honestly, lowering his hand and turning to face you with a wry grin on his scarred face. 

As you took in the sharp planes of his cheekbones and jawline, you felt something tight and gnarled uncoil in your chest, and puffed out your cheeks with a huge, happy sigh. Tall, lean, and graceful, he was everything a pleasure drow should have been, according to the strict hierarchies of the matrons of the Underdark, but he’d suffered a spell-burn that licked up from his throat, over his left cheek and left eye, and across the bridge of his nose to the right side of his forehead. It had left the purplish-slate colour of his skin textured, and tinged with red, and he’d been phenomenally lucky to keep the sight in his heterochromic eyes. The iris of his right eye was black, while his left was a silvery grey. 

Framing that striking and beautiful face was long hair, as straight and white spider silk. He’d shaved it close above his dagger-pointed ears, but kept just enough on top to have a tail that he usually wore fixed with black bands of leather along its length so that it fell down between his shoulder blades like a rope. In both his ears, along the whole length of them, little silver rings and studs flashed and caught the light in the soft quiet of the stables, and his dark grey lips curled upwards at the corners into the loving smile that he reserved only for you, and most often when the two of you were lying tangled between the simple sheets of his bed. 

When he saw the look in your eyes though, he turned fully away from his beloved horse and strode over to you in three strides, his long, slim, leather-clad legs propelling him with seemingly effortless grace. He brought his hands up to cup your jaw. “What is it, love?” he asked, caressing a line across your cheeks with his thumbs. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you laughed, though the anxiety bubbling like acid on limestone in your gut rather eroded the true happiness of the laugh. “I’ve been given my first Trial.”

His mismatched eyes went wide and he beamed at you. “That’s wonderful! What is it?”

“You’re coming too,” you grimaced, “And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

At that, the joy was replaced by concern, and he stepped back to regard you sharply, hands dropping to his sides. “Why not? Where are we going? And why me?” 

He knew as well as you did that he wasn’t usually involved in the training and Trials of new recruits. 

“I’ve got the answer to all three with just one word,” you sighed, looking past him to where the horse was watching your conversation. You wondered if the druid had cast a spell to speak with animals again, or if he had simply been enjoying spending time with the creature. Either way, their bond was undeniable. “The Underdark.”

...

Read the whole thing over on my Patreon right now!

[its-darkoverhere]

𝔞 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩 𝔒𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 🦇🌙

[its-darkoverhere]

it's always so fascinating and heartbreaking when a character in a story is simultaneously idolized and abused. a chosen prophet destined for martyrdom. a child prodigy forced to grow up too fast. a powerful warrior raised as nothing but a weapon. there's just something so uniquely messed up about singing someone's praises whilst destroying them.

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[said with increasing amount of distress] i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this i got this

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she’s right

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