Rogue Pride Flags!
Aro | Ace | Bi
Gay | Genderfluid | Lesbian
Enby | Pan | Trans
Enjoy!
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Fear Travels - Senior Smackdown
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OC PORTRAIT ! everyone say hello Winnie…now that’s enough back in his prison he goes!!
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there was a plaid month event going on over on bluesky and i was inspired. but if you want to see the full fit you’ve gotta go to said bluesky ✌️
also, the mugs they’re drinking out of below the cut
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Llewelyn Story WIP: Spiders Scene
Hello everynyan, I would like to share with y’all a scene from Llewelyn’s backstory that I’m writing. For context this is after he is put in prison by the drow nobles of House Tor’viir, right before he is to be sacrificed to Lolth. This scene is pretty heavy!! My man Llewelyn is going insane and he is tortured.
If you do NOT like body horror. DO NOT READ.
This scene features, spiders, vomit, and blood. Anyways for those who want to read please enjoy and lmk what you think. I am very proud of this scene.
Also thank you to my friend Sam for helping me format this post ily :3
[[MORE]]Llewelyn felt himself clawing at the stone walls of his cell, eager to escape this wretched hell. How many days had he been here? How many weeks? How many more times would the guards come by to torment him? How much longer would he have to endure this?
He was lucky. This evening, they gave him food. He had scoffed it down without a second thought, yet his gnawing hunger remained unsatisfied. Still scratching and scraping at the walls, his fingers protested. Their calloused surfaces split open, oozing fresh blood. Broken bits of fingernails lay scattered across the room. He had to keep his hands busy, no matter how much it hurt. Gods know what would happen if he stopped. This nightmare might finally seep into the recesses of his mind, shredding whatever sanity he had left. Always keep busy, or this place will swallow you whole. Suddenly, he ceased his incessant grating, feeling his stomach churn. Sweat began beading on his forehead, the dark room spinning around him. He cursed himself for so willingly eating the slop they had served him.
The cold stone floor was a welcome comfort to his now-burning skin. Groaning as he tucked his knees to his chest, he wished whatever new suffering he had wrought upon himself would end. The churning and sweating worsened as the seconds passed, then he felt something bubbling inside him. Something was moving within him. Breathing erratically as saliva pooled in his mouth, followed by the taste of copper. He clutched his stomach, praying to whatever gods could hear him to end his suffering. Time stopped for a second, a pause of silence in the air, a moment of calm washed over his body. As if the gods heard his prayers or as if the worst was yet to come. Then, the stillness was ripped from him. Agony spread throughout his body as his stomach began to convulse. His abdomen felt like it was tearing with every contraction. A thick black tar-like substance spilled from his mouth, along with a tiny spider. His eyes widened in horror.
Before he could even process what was happening, the retching came again, this time more forcefully. Droves of spiders crawled their way out of his throat and nose. More tar and blood spewed out of him, leaking from his mouth and nostrils, splattering all over himself, and attracting the attention of the vicious arachnids. The rest of the fluids that couldn’t escape filled his lungs, causing his chest to spasm. Limbs frozen as the insects skittered across him, biting his tender flesh, lapping up his blood. With each stab of their fangs came a deep, stinging sensation that spread throughout him. Venom coursed through his veins, causing him to lock up even more.
Throat tightening, lungs seizing, vocal cords too shredded to even scream, Llewelyn could only watch in horror as they feasted on him, as they continued to pour out of him. Breathing seemed like a distant memory. Tears welled in his eyes. The pain and terror consumed his mind, body, and soul.
Lying there, shaking, in a pool of rot, the worst of the torment dwindled. The final spiders crawled up Llewelyn’s face. His mouth was slightly agape, and his breathing shallow. Excess fluids dripped slowly from his lips. The raw wounds in his flesh had already begun to scab over. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, the only reminder that he was alive. Not that it mattered to him anyway. Or the spiders. There wasn’t even enough energy within him to wish for death. All he could do was lie there staring at the corners of the tomb-like cell where thousands of webs had begun to form. Their white strands infused with a sickly crimson that seemed to drip down towards the floor. Almost like a cluster of eyes that stared down at the pitiful husk of a man Llewelyn had become.
Moments later, the heavy stone door slid open. Yas’tana and Thia’zyl stood in the corridor. Even in his condition, Llewelyn tried his best to avert his gaze—the fear of punishment for looking upon a drow woman deeply ingrained in him. Closing his eyes proved difficult due to the venom.
Thia’zyl hung back, barely looking into the room as Yas’tana moved to stand before him, her usual malicious grin plastered across her face.
“A shame I missed the spectacle. I wish I could’ve seen you squirm.” Yas’tana sneered. Llewelyn could feel her taking in every gory detail of the scene, soaking up all the anguish he had suffered and deriving every ounce of pleasure she could from it. She hungered for his pain. It was the very reason why she brought him to this manor 15 years ago. Nothing else would sate her appetite. She’ll feed off his suffering until he lies dead on the spider altar. Tearing open the carcass of his soul and devouring the scraps like the beast she—and all of Lolth’s priestesses were—before moving on to the next hopeless sod she finds interesting. Yes, there is not a shadow of a doubt she’ll etch his gory visage into her mind, just as she did with the ones who came before. Such is her nature. Such is her way.
The sound of Thia’zyl’s voice interrupted Yas’tana’s banquet of torment and bloodshed,
“Enough gawking. Give him the antidote, and be done with it.” The other priestess hummed in response, keeping her attention on Llewelyn,
“Such a sight should be savored, not devoured. I think I’ll indulge myself a little longer.” Thia’zyl turned to her sister, her lips tightening slightly. Llewelyn could see her blank expression falter. She composed herself and remarked cooly,
“You will have your fill of carnage and viscera once he is on the altar for the Goddess. He is needed alive. Unless you would like to incur the wrath of Matron Tal’zaiira and Lolth, I suggest you listen.” Yas’tana frowned at the apparent threat. Llewelyn could only imagine what would happen to her if he died before they could sacrifice him. The other priestesses would make short work of her. Her end would be swift yet painful, and, for a second, Llewelyn toyed with the idea of deeply inconveniencing her.
Yas’tana carelessly poured the antidote into Llewelyn’s mouth. Her bright red eyes pierced his face, radiating pure, unadulterated malice. He ignored her stare and swallowed feverously as the cool liquid hit his throat. If he could move, he was sure he would’ve snatched the bottle out of her hand.
Yas’tana moved towards Thia’zyl after emptying the bottle. She stopped, inches away from her face, voice tinged with animosity,
“You speak out of turn. Remember who is firstborn here, Thia’zylisstra’drada.”
Thia’zyl stood in the corridor, her face blank, almost unfazed, watching her sister leave the dungeon. As she closed the door to the cell, Llewelyn locked eyes with her for a moment. There was a brief flash of something within her gaze. Something he couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it was gone. The door had been sealed shut once more. Now, only darkness, silence, and spiders filled the room. Soon, the Spider Queen will capture Llewelyn’s soul, whisking him away to a new kind of hell. The thought made him shudder, but maybe it was what he deserved. Either way, his fate was sealed. Soon, he’ll be freed from the webs of House Tor’viir and released into the Lolth’s clutches.
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So…. Kira got in trouble you could say. Hellish trouble to be correct.
“Judgment will be apown you, no matter the torture you put me though”
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Aetherdrift: Boommobile
A new vehicle from Aetherdrift, last year’s racing-themed MtG set. This one belongs to the Goblin Rocketeers, one of ten teams participating in the Grand Prix. These goblin speedsters worship a deity of ultimate adrenaline, the BOOSTGOD, and in its name they work to break the velocity barrier that they believe surrounds the multiverse. The best way to do that? Strapping massive metal rockets onto rickety wooden cars, of course!
This is just one of dozens of new vehicles I’m building statblocks for, with player-facing rules for driving them to come later! If you want to be like the Goblin Rocketeers, and get to see my work FASTER than EVERYONE, you can get everything one week early by signing up to support me on Patreon! And if you’re feeling generous, you can sign up to be a Dungeon Delver, supporting me for a little more per month. That also gets you other homebrew content– like my latest release, the Way of the Arcane Technique, a monk subclass that learns martial techniques to cast arcane spells.
