#d20 body count

[chungledown-bimothy]

for the body count thing, i'm also noting cause of death, which is fun for the spellcasters and people with multiple weapons, but then there's gorgug and it's just greataxe all the way down lmao

[hyperfixatingmenever]

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Me: I’m gonna rub the werewolf’s belly in that spot werewolves love to be rubbed

DM: Make an animal handling check

Me: YAAAS I HAVE PROFICIENCY IN THIS *proceeds to roll nat 1*

DM: Oh shit. The werewolf looks SUPER angry. I’m gonna say that doesn’t count as an action, anything else you wanna do?

Me: I’m gonna boop it on the nose

DM: Ok… Roll a d20 with double disadvantage

Me: 3

DM: It bites at your fingers. Anything else you wanna do?

Me: Who’s a good dog?

DM: Aright, that’s the werewolf’s turn now. He’s gonna make an attack at Cleric.

Cleric: What, not [Druid] who just failed the belly rub?

DM: Good point. He’s going to bite [Druid]. Roll a constitution saving throw or forever be affected by lycanthropy.

Me: *suceeeds* Noooo I wanted to be a werewolf!

Cleric: I’m gonna get my monkey to hold the statue of the almighty squirrel god Doug and throw him at the werewolf.

DM: As the monkey hits the werewolf with a statue, the fur fades away and you see a small naked gnome man curled up on the floor crying.

Me: I curl up in a ball next to him and also cry.

Cleric: I pick up the body of the goblin we also killed and carry it up to [guy who asked us to kill the goblin]’s office

Me: I pick up the gnome and also carry him to the office

Gnome: I’m a 45 year old man please don’t carry me

Me: I carry him.

[kagesstuff]

Roll for a Feedism Challenge 

Feedee Edition!

Roll a d20 to get your challenge for the day

Original poster cute-feedism-things

1. Breakfast stuffing: get a dozen donuts and eat every last one (if it's Krispy Kreme make it 18). 

2. Worth the weight: hop on the scale and take a picture of the number. Do it again at the end of the day. Share the results (and impress whoever you share it with)

3. Moisturize Me: get comfy, get naked, and get in touch with your body as you slowly lotion every inch of yourself.

4.Consequences: for every 200 steps you take today you need to eat 1000 calories. Be mindful of how much you're moving your body.

5. Planks: set a timer for 3 minutes and get in plank position. Every time you have to pause the timer for a break is another 500 calories you need to eat today (make it 1000 if you're under 200 pounds). 

6. Pizza party: get a large pizza and finish the whole thing (make it 2 if you get thin crust)

7.Low Hanging Fruit: Get on all fours and take a picture. Show someone how low your belly is hanging these days.

8. Self care day: get comfy and surround yourself with your favorite snacks. Relax today and graze while doing all your favorite low effort activities.

9. Probable pounds: Roll 2d4. You need to weigh that much more (in pounds) before you stop eating tonight.

10. Empty calories: get at least 2500 calories from drinks today (you're probably going to want a milkshake or 2).

11. Extra large thighs… I mean fries: treat yourself to your favorite fast food and make sure it's over 5000 calories (it's okay if that means you need to treat yourself for 2 meals, you deserve it)

12. Find your max: count calories and stuff yourself until you physically can't anymore. That's your max. If you've already done this once, make sure to beat your last score.

13. Quiet contemplation: turn off all media and set a timer for 10 minutes. I want you to lay down, get comfy, close your eyes and just spend this time exploring your body. Has it gotten bigger? Softer? Where do you feel most sensitive?

14. Touch yourself while you stuff yourself: get in touch with your hedonistic side by masturbating while you eat. Don't cum until you've had at least 2000 calories.

15. The best shape you'll ever be in: do as many situps or pushups (your choice) as you can. Subtract that number from 20 and then multiply by 500. That's your calorie goal for today (if it's a negative, multiply by -1 and add 2000 calories)

16.Just Desserts: in addition to your normal meals today, you're going to eat at least 2500 calories of desserts. 

17. Cupcake game: find your favorite piece of feedist porn/fic/etc. Every time you start getting turned on, eat a cupcake. No touching yourself until you've finished all of them. (This works best with longer stories/videos)

18.This still fits: put on your tightest clothes that still “fit” (you can actually get them on your body) and take a picture from whatever angle makes you look fattest. Post it if you feel comfy or share with someone privately.

19. It's about the process: cook your favorite recipe and eat the whole thing for one meal. The dishes can be future-you’s problem. Just enjoy yourself for now.

20. Double trouble: Roll 2 more times and do both!

Let the games begin

Wanna play a game 😋

[corroded-hellfire]

I am humbly requesting Eddie wearing a shirt that says “nerds make the best lovers” and then proving it to bookworm!Reader.

Your request is my command. I hope I have done your idea justice!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, slight choking, soft dom!eddie, public sex (kinda?)

Words: 2.2k

Eddie struts into your first period English class with Ms. O’Donell, late as usual, and she doesn’t even glance away from the chalkboard she’s scribbling vocabulary words on to acknowledge his tardiness. On instinct, you smile at your boyfriend as he makes his way to his seat near you, but as your eyes scan over his shirt, heat blooms in your cheeks.

“Nerds Make the Best Lovers” his t-shirt claims in bold, gothic-style red lettering on the black tee. Eddie gives you a brazen wink and by the sound of all the snickering coming from students around you, you know other people have read the clothing’s pronouncement as well. Mortified, you bury your face in your hands, only peeking out to see if O’Donnell caught a glimpse of her least favorite student’s shirt. Luckily, O’Donnell gave up reading whatever shit his t-shirts said after her twentieth time or so sending Eddie to the front office for dress code violations. 

Eddie plops down in the seat next to yours and he shoots you another wink as if you hadn’t seen the first one he gave you when he walked in. Refusing to encourage any of this behavior, you don’t look your boyfriend’s way once the entirety of the class.

Once the period ends, however, Eddie won’t let you get away from him that easily. He jogs down the hallway to catch up with you and drapes a heavy arm over your shoulders.

“Where’s the fire, baby?” he asks. “Where ya headed in such a hurry?”

You shake your head in non-response and keep walking down the hallway, not sparing him a glance. Eventually, you come to a section of hallway that’s mostly emptied of people and you turn to face him, your shoes squeaking against the white linoleum floor beneath you at the tenacity of your spin.

“What is with that shirt, Eddie? Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“Embarrass you?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. “Baby, I’m just stating a fact. Nerds do make the best lovers. And I’m more than happy to give you a reminder…”

He trails a finger up your arm, and it sends a thrilling shiver down your spine. Any irritation or annoyance instantly melts away at his touch. Your resistance was already futile but Eddie putting his hands on you always seems to shut off any coherent part of your brain.

“A reminder, huh?” you coo, ensnared by his flirtations. 

“That’s right. I’ll show just how good this nerd can make you feel.” 

You decide to hell with it; there’s nothing particularly important going on today. Nothing that you couldn’t afford to miss, anyway. And even if there was? Eddie’s body pressed up against yours is worth a detention or a missed test.

“Should we head out to your van for this demonstration?” you ask. The number of times his old, beat down van has been out in the school parking lot, rocking back and forth from the two of you, is too high to count. Most of the times being while school is still in session.

“No, I’ve got somewhere better in mind.” Eddie tugs you by the wrist, leading you down the hall in the opposite direction. He comes to a halt in front of a familiar door and pulls you into the drama room. It’s abandoned and quiet as Eddie locks the door behind you. There’s some D&D paraphernalia scattered around the room, a few D20s that were left out on the table.

“Hmm, so the ultimate symbolism of your nerdiness, huh?” You tease as you sit yourself down on his throne at the head of the table. The seat is cold beneath you, but you refuse to let it show. 

Eddie stalks over to stand before you and rests a hand on either arm rest of the throne. He lowers his head to meet your gaze with his own challenging one.

“I suppose you think I’m going to kick you out,” he says, referring to the seat. “Not today, my lady. Today…” he lowers himself down to his knees. “Today you just sit back and enjoy my throne while I make you feel good.”

He makes quick work of yanking your jeans and panties off and tosses them somewhere behind him. A strong hand grips each of your calves and spreads your legs wide open, Eddie wasting no time before he’s licking a stripe up your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, fingers digging into the sturdy arm rests at your sides. 

Eddie smirks against your pussy as he begins to flick his tongue against your clit. He knows every one of your little tells and knows just the right speeds and pressures to apply to your bundle of nerves to get you just where he wants you to go.

Your fingers scramble to find purchase on the chair as pleasure floods your body, so Eddie laces one of his hands with yours to ground you. His mouth keeps working against your pussy and you do your best not to grind your hips up to meet his tongue. It’s so tempting but you know it will only draw out Eddie’s teasing in the long run. 

With his free hand, Eddie delicately trails one ringed finger around your entrance, going round and round, never breaching it though. The delicious whines spilling from your lips only encourage him on.

“Shit, you taste so good, baby. God, I love your pussy,” he murmurs from between your legs.

“Eddie,” you whimper desperately, eager for him to use his fingers already. Being a nerd might not necessarily make him the best lover, but being a guitar player does make for a magical experience when he fingers you.

“Mm?” he hums against your core.

“N-Need your f-fing—holy shit, yes.”

Eddie knew what you needed before you even said it. The two of you work so well together, both mind and body, that you’re like separate pieces of the same machine, headed towards the same goal.

Two thick fingers stretch you out, at your request, as Eddie raises his head slightly to suck on your clit. He curls his fingers up and gently brushes over the spot that he knows makes you see stars. Your own fingers tighten on the arms of the throne and your legs tense around Eddie’s head.

“Shit! Fuck, fuck, I’m coming!”

Eddie smirks against your clit as he helps you ride it out, with both his fingers and mouth. He loves watching you as you come down from your high; all out of breath and dewy from a thin layer of sweat. 

The loss of his fingers as he slips them out of you is quickly made okay as you watch him pop them in his mouth as you try and catch your breath. His cocky facial expressions would annoy you if you weren’t feeling so amazing from his damn mouth.

Once he’s licked you from his fingers, he reaches down and fumbles with the handcuff buckle on his belt.

“Made you feel so good and didn’t even take my cock out yet.”

“Wipe that…smirk off your face.” You try to sound assertive, but it falls flat in your blissed out state.

Eddie chuckles and leans in, wrapping one hand around your throat; not tight enough to restrict air, just enough for you to feel the pressure.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands here, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear. “Pretty sure you’d let me do whatever the hell I want to you right now, won’t you?” Both of you know the answer to that, but when you don’t give a verbal response, Eddie tightens his grip on your throat just slightly. “I said, won’t you?” he growls.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak out.

The sound pleases Eddie, and he smiles deviously as he releases your throat. He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek that’s a stark contrast to how he was just handling you.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, smugness clear in his tone.

He grabs your hands and yanks you up out of the throne. An involuntary yelp passes through your lips as he spins the two of you around and backs you up until your bare thighs bump into the table.

“Shirt off. Bra too,” Eddie orders.

You do as he says, Eddie’s eyes taking you in like the prey that you are to him with every move that you make.

Once you’re completely naked, Eddie presses his index finger right in the middle of your chest and gives just enough force for you to get the hint that he wants you to lie back.

The moment you get your ass on the table, large strong hands grab behind your knees and pull you towards the edge, so your back falls flat against the surface and your legs are able to wrap around your boyfriend’s lithe body. He pushes down his black jeans and boxers enough to line himself up with your entrance. But he doesn’t push in just yet.

“Say my fucking name, sweetheart,” he says as he leans over you.

“E-Eddie.”

“Louder. I want anyone walking by to know who’s in here making you feel so good.”

“Eddie!”

The man’s grip tightens on your legs and his cock just barely slips into you.

“I said louder. Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me or what?”

“Fuck, Eddie!”

He smirks in triumph at the way you scream his name.

“That’s my girl.”

He finally pushes inside of you, agonizingly slowly, his body towering over yours as he thrusts. Each time, he goes a little deeper, his eyes boring right into yours as he moves his hips. 

Your jaw drops open and small gasps escape your lips. You’re not sure what’s hotter: how Eddie’s pounding into you or how he’s staring into your eyes, not once breaking contact. 

Eddie groans as he finally bottoms out.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight.”

No words whatsoever fill your mind as you lose yourself in the feeling of Eddie inside your walls. Your boyfriend notices this as well and another arrogant smirk grows on his lips while he stares down at you.

“Aw, already cock drunk, princess? Not a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

You want so badly to refute it, but you don’t have the words to do so–only further proving his point.

The cool table feels nice against your back as your skin becomes sticky with sweat. Your hands slide from Eddie’s arms and your fingers grip the edge of the table.

Eddie notices the movement and doesn’t want you holding on to anything that isn’t him, though. His hands slide up your body and he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“Oh, she can speak,” Eddie coos.

“Eddie.”

“What is it, my love?”

“C-Close.”

Eddie holds both of your wrists in one hand while the other one snakes down and presses his thumb against your clit.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie goads. “Be my good girl and cum for me.”

“W-Want you to…with me,” you pant out between labored breaths. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie says with a wry chuckle. “I’m right there with you.”

Eddie might be a complete menace sometimes, knowing exactly how to drive you crazy, but you know him just as well and know how to bring him to the brink. 

“I-Inside,” you pant. “Need you to cum inside me.”

“Jesus,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his teeth as he tries to hold back.

“Please,” you beg.

“Well,” Eddie huffs with a laugh, “since you asked so nicely. Come on, princess. Let go.”

The twitch of Eddie inside of you and the feeling of him filling you up has you arching your back as sparks fly behind your eyelids and ecstasy radiates up your body.

“Eddie, yes.”

“Louder,” Eddie manages as he fucks his load into you.

“Eddie!”

The blissed out feeling from his orgasm and your shouting of his name puts a big, dopey grin on Eddie’s face.

“Shit, princess,” he says with a chuckle as he buries his head in your neck. You giggle as he presses kisses and nips at the skin there.

Eddie doesn’t make a move to get off of you, which you don’t mind one bit. You tangle your fingers in his frizzy locks and press kisses to the side of his head.

“So?” he eventually mumbles against your skin.

“So what?”

Eddie picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do nerds make the best lovers or what?” he asks, eyebrows waggling.

You can’t help but laugh as you nod your head in affirmation.

“Yes, Eddie. You have proven it to me.”

“Mmm, good,” he hums before he goes back to kissing your neck.

“What’re you doing?” you ask as the kisses become more and more intense.

He pulls back to look at you again.

“You really think the best lover is only going for one round?” He scoffs and goes back to kissing your neck.

“Thank God for nerds,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed.

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part Four)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Content warnings: Fic begins with a panic attack

Word count: 2.3k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Fucking Losers

You were having a fit. A moment. An episode. Whatever it’s called. It didn’t matter as your body shook in the dark.

Of course, you were thinking about Michael. How could you not? He was one of the few people who saw you in this state before, apart from your mother. He quickly learned how to help, often asking you from the foot of your bed if certain parts were accurate as he read from the academic journals he pulled from the library. You would be at the head, hunched over homework or your book as you give him a simple yes or no.

But Michael’s not here. You haven’t seen him since the end of finals. Then you both went home for winter break and didn’t check in on one another for two weeks; the longest either of you have gone without speaking since you met. It was unheard of, terrifying. Despite how things were left, you did not want things to stay that way. You weren’t the one who needed to mend this with an apology, but leaving the wound open isn’t helping anymore. Perhaps calling time of death is the only answer.

Rising slowly from the floor, you took your time and your breaths. To avoid exacerbating the situation, you made an effort not to gasp for air. You press your back against a blank wall while steadying your knees as they shake. You mentally map out the pathway from Fleming to Haygood. It’s nighttime, but there’s plenty of lights on the paths, surely. The ones you can see from your window are.

You made up your mind. You picked up your coat and scarf from your chair. While following the same light from your peephole, you observe the dust looping around itself in the stream before vanishing back into the dark. You don’t even think to look out of it before opening the door.

And Michael was there. He stood in the yellow-lit hallway in his trench coat, barely hiding the d20 graphic tee he bought at the last Comic-Con. His glasses were fogged, and he was out of breath. “Hey,” he says like his lungs aren’t burning.

“Michael.” You held your door. You dare not sniffle.

“Figured you’d be here.”

Your face turned to stone. “Did you?”

“No-no, not like that,” he coughs on his own words. “I only meant—that I—I was hoping you were here.”

That hits you, but you don’t want to show it. “You’ve been running,” you say.

“I have.”

“You never run.”

“Painfully true.”

You look him up and down. His runners (irony) are soaked as well as his khakis from the calves down. Not only did he run, but he ran through the snow. Your eyes dart to his, which are slowly being revealed as his glasses adjust to the indoor temperature. It gets harder to look at him; slanted brows and Cheshire Cat lips turned downward. They’re parted slightly to let in more air. Unlike you, he doesn’t look away. Because he doesn’t know what you were about to do, but you know why he’s here. Michael never runs. So why else would he be here? In the most delightful way possible, he surprised you. Not a high bar to meet after last time, but you might as well get to the point. You clear your throat. “Michael, I—”

“I’m sorry.”

You meet his eyes, still fogged, but you don’t speak a word. Not because you want him to grovel (entirely), but because you don’t know what to say.

“What I said was wrong. But you knew that already. I shouldn’t have said it. And I shouldn’t have taken this long to say it.”

You lean on your door, blotting your snot on your sleeve. “Why did you?”

Michael shrugged, then his eyes turned away from you, trailing to the wooden floor beneath your feet. “Stubbornness. Geniuses don’t like being told they’re wrong. Even when they are absolutely wrong. And… uh…”

Your brows quirk.

“I’m afraid of saying it aloud. Because it sounds so bad, but I don’t mean it to be because it’s not—oh my God, you’ve been crying!” His glasses finally defogged. He comes closer and you don’t stop him when his hands take a gentle hold of your arms, the only thing adjacent to a hug at this moment. It’s all the rift between you will allow, even in the midst of mending. “What happened?”

It was your turn for your eyes, dry and irritated, to fall toward the floor as you finally cave and sniffle to spare your sleeves. “Panic attack.” There it is. That’s what it was. The description came to you when you needed it. “I’m fine now.”

“You should sit down.” His breath is a mix of beer and mint gum. “They always take the energy out of you.”

“Yeah.” You step back, still holding the door. It has a habit of leaning forward and closing on its own. You wait for Michael to step in. He eventually inches forward until he’s under the doorway, keeping eye contact with you and his hands in his pockets. Then he’s in.

You take off your coat and scarf, then Michael’s, setting them all on the arm of your big chair. With your silent permission, you both take refuge in your designated spots on your bed after slipping off your shoes. You take a pillow each to hold, then you turn on your bedside lamp. Instead of an old yellow light, the room glows with a soft orange instead. Michael nestles up to the wall next to your astronomy posters, his skinny legs stretched out straight in front of him and away from you. The lines of his eyes are redder than usual. You noticed them in the hallway, but you still didn’t say a word about it.

“What’d you want to say?” You eventually asked.

“Promise you won’t get upset?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it comes out bad?”

“As long as you explain yourself. I promise.”

Michael sighed. His head bumped against the wall as yours did with the headboard. Your post-attack exhaustion is already taking over. “Oliver ditched me. At the pub.”

“He did?” It explained the beer.

Michael nodded. “For Felix Catton and his vultures.”

“Oh, Michael.” It sounds bad. A typical primary school reaction of retreating to the closest person to avoid being alone, and possibly even a target. It sounds absolutely selfish. But you kept yourself composed because you couldn’t help but feel for him still. He knows that pain too. You’ve joked in the past about how hopeless you both are at making friends, but it doesn’t hurt less when you’re proven right. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“I went to grab us some pints. When I came back, he was at their table. Barely spared me a glance.”

��Guess he wasn’t meant to be your friend.” You say it like you turned into your mother. She always said it when you found yourself in the same grief time and time again.

Michael shrugged. “He was boring. He barely spoke at all. And that’s why I came straight here. Because I knew you would never do that to me.”

You sniffled again. It thickened in your nose. “You’re a prick sometimes, Charles. Even when you’re an absolute arse to me, I like you too much to do that to you.”

“Even when you call me Charles?”

“Of course.” You pull your lips into a half smile because you don’t have the energy for much more. “So why’d it take you so long to realize that?”

“We’re hopeless at making friends. You left so quickly. I thought I fucked it all up from the start.”

You pursed your lips as his words settle in. The exhaustion only creeps in as you sink into your bed. “We’re both terrible at making friends, aren’t we?” You try to lighten the mood with a chuckle, even though it’s terribly depressing.

“But it’s easy with you.” He holds the pillow close to his chest, looking you in the eyes as he says, “I don’t want to lose that.”

You push your leg out to nudge him on the nose. He thins out his lips as he takes it, even though you took off your socks. Once you’re successful, your leg drops to his side. “Well, you won’t lose it.”

And the silence in the room stretches as you watch the wound heal between you in the lamp’s soft glow. The vulnerability in Michael’s eyes mirrors yours.

“You know,” your voice breaks the silence as you sit back up and put your pillow back in place. “What Oliver did to you was awful, but we can still take advantage of the night. Let’s go to the pub.”

Michael raises an eyebrow. “It’s Saturday night. It was so crowded down there.”

You shrug. “You said you wouldn’t let anything happen to me, right?”

The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I did say that.”

“So, let’s go.” You stand up, turn on your bare heels, and extend your hand to him. “Maybe it’ll be good for us. Better than being around those fucking losers.” It’s uncharacteristic as the last words fall out of your mouth, but it certainly felt appropriate.

“You sure you’re not tired?”

“I’ll let you know when I’m tired.”

“I’ll take it then.” And Michael takes your hand When he lands on his feet, though, it’s closer than expected. He’s so close to falling into you, which would make you both collapse on the hard floor. But he balances himself by taking a hold of your hip with his other hand.

It would be normal to step back and let go of his hand to give him space. It certainly would make sense. But you can’t explain the sudden surge of boldness that hits you. And without thinking something through for the first time in your life, you push yourself up on your toes and kiss him. It was quick, and spontaneous, much like the whole decision.

You open your eyes to see Michael’s face illuminated by the lamp, part of its shade reflected in his glasses. The weight of what you just did started stacking on your shoulders, brick by brick. But before you can pull away and apologize, Michael’s lips meet yours again. His kiss is different—frantic and eager, filled with the desperate need to connect again (or proof he’s never kissed someone. You’ve never talked about it). It’s sloppy as both his hands move to your waist and grip at the fabric of your sweater. Your hands meet his chest as you try pushing him away. Your lips are drenched by the time you finally separate.

“Michael, slow down.” You wipe your mouth.

“Sorry,” he whispers. Beer still lingers in his breath.

“It’s okay. Just… do it like this.” You urge him to loosen his hold on your sweater as your hands find their way to his face. You show him how to kiss with tenderness.

And he responds accordingly, his kisses becoming softer and more deliberate. His hands rest on your waist now. No force in them. The urgency fades, and his skin is warm as your hands lace around his neck. He pulls back this time, though, and the look in his eyes shows you how dazed he is. “Maybe we should stay in,” he suggests softly.

“Well, I—”

“Not anything like that. I’m not ready for… that. I just know you’ll be exhausted soon.”

You couldn’t lie. You were already there. “But you said you—”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. But that’s a simple thing to prove in a pub at any time. We’ll go soon.” He pecks you on the lips. “But for now, you should rest.”

You don’t argue further. Instead, you pull away from Michael completely and make way for your wardrobe. Luckily, this isn’t the first time Michael’s spent the night in your dorm, so you pull out some of the spare pajamas he’s left behind during late movie nights. You both turn away as you change, but meet again in an attempt to make room in your single bed. Michael wraps an arm around your waist as you both get comfortable and squeezes in close, keeping you from the edge. He props himself up on his elbow.

“Are you going to fall asleep?” You ask him.

Michael leans over to put his glasses on the end table. “Shouldn’t be too hard. And it’s already more comfortable than your couch. If I can’t, your bookcase is easy to reach. I can always grab a memoir.”

Your knuckles brush against his sweatshirt, a weak attempt at a smack as you giggle. Michael takes that hand and turns it in his hold like he is examining it. He kisses your fingers and cradles them against his chest. He knows you feel his still rapid heartbeat.

“This is all… a lot for me.”

“Me too.”

“What made you do it?”

“Did you wish I didn’t?”

“God no. I’d been wanting to for a while.”

“So did I.” You trace the Oxford logo on his chest. “So I did it. Just in a brief moment where I stopped overthinking.”

The air blown out of Michael’s nose is cool against your face. “You actually stopped thinking?” His lips find your forehead as he still keeps hold of your hand—an assurance that he is joking. “Had to say it.”

“It’s difficult. But it’s easier with you.”

The smartass grin leaves his face at that. Instead, he lets his head meet your pillow as his eyes refuse to stray from yours. He brushes your hair back, his short nails just scratching your scalp. It’s soothing, and it encourages you to close your eyes in bliss as your mind is blank.

Taglist: @anukulee

[thisisnotthenerd]

active stat tracking for never stop blowing up: episode 7

systems of die types in spreadsheets, oh my

another incredible episode folks. we saw all of their new group abilities come into play, had some fantastic character progression, and some truly absurd scenes. quick note: ally said they only had 2d20, but by my count they have 3, so there may be some discrepancies. as always i am one person, watching and trying to catch as many rolls as i can.

everyone is up to a d20, so the final ability, dark night of the soul, will be unlocked. can't wait to see what that is. on that note, we saw some crazy progression this episode, notably, jennifer drips going from a d4 in stunts to a d20 in a single progression, and benefiting from the double explosion twice to end up with 24 tokens. absolutely crazy.

at this point average progressions are out the window, given that they're working their way up so quickly. everyone still has at least 1d4. jennifer, g13, and greg all have multiple d20s. we're at the 70% mark and things are looking crazy, people. everyone progressed at least one skill, with vic only getting 1 (d12 in hot), and jennifer getting 4 (d20 in stunts, d20 in brawl, d12 in tough, d20 in wits)

we saw two impossible dc skill checks: dang farting people into unconsciousness, and liv crushing usha back into g13's body. insane asks turning into insane moments. this season is a distillation of ostentatia's divine intervention, markus' fog of war, kristen's ribbon dancing, daisy shitting out a window, conrad's appeal to spirit, and jacob wysocki, all chucked into a centrifuge and then distributed into every single moment.

we've now gotten our final interface, with jennifer and russell, and russell finally understanding feminine rage.

no big mechanical changes, save mentions of the wildcard strength, which rekha is allowed to use once in the season. i don't know what it will do, and i'm afraid to ask.

also, we got confirmation that the system combines kids on bikes and murph's increasing dice game, with tokens to make it a little more reliable.

paula donvalson / jack manhattan

abilities: duelist, relentless, studied (brawl), quick healing, protector

stunts: d8

brawl: d4

tough: d10

tech: d4

weapons: d20

drive: d8

sneak: d6

wits: d10

hot: d8

liv skyler / kingskin

abilities: wealthy, trouble maker, demolitions, quick healing

stunts: d6

brawl: d20

tough: d12

tech: d10

weapons: d8

drive: d10

sneak: d4

wits: d10

hot: d10

andy 'dang' litefoot / greg stocks

abilities: trained (brawl), mastery (weapons), smokin', quick healing

stunts: d12

brawl: d0

tough: d20

tech: d8

weapons: d6

drive: d12

sneak: d4

wits: d8

hot: d20

wendell morris / vic ethanol

abilities: transporter, protector, trouble maker, quick healing, resilient

stunts: d10

brawl: d12

tough: d12

tech: d6

weapons: d6

drive: d20

sneak: d4

wits: d6

hot: d12

russell feeld / jennifer drips

abilities: trained (hot), neck snapper, quick healing, inspiring

stunts: d20

brawl: d20

tough: d12

tech: d4

weapons: d6

drive: d4

sneak: d12

wits: d20

hot: d8

usha rao / g13

abilities: wildcard, hacker, stealth, quick healing

stunts: d20

brawl: d4

tough: d10

tech: d20

weapons: d4

drive: d20

sneak: d6

wits: d20

hot: d6

group abilities:

la familia (stepping in for a tough roll, lending tokens at a 1:1, sharing skill dice for optimization)

diesel circus (doubling number of tokens on a double explosion, roll 2x on first roll after injury, successful drive check allows a second skill check on top)

alpha squad (gaining 2 tokens when the group suits up, reduce explosion range by 1, two characters roll and add the result)

the ones (reroll a nat one with a different skill, take a nat one as a max roll and blow up, accept a nat one and get 1/2 the tokens of the die value)

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 16

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 15

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescurtainbangz @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @usergeta @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI:  swearing, yelling/arguing, anger, angst, crying, nightmares, mentions of blood/violence/death, parental issues, mentions of terminal illness, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex, fluff

Word Count: 8.4k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 16: Hold Me Now

Sunday, April 23rd, 1989

"Alright, Y/N. You've gotta roll a perfect twenty to win. Think you can do it?" Eddie asks, tossing you the D20 from across the table. You catch it in your hand, looking at it anxiously. This is your last chance to clinch a win, otherwise you and your fellow players' journey is all for naught on this Sunday evening.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" You reply in uncertainty, heart racing with anticipation. You can feel everyone's eyes on you as you rattle the plastic icosahedron in your sweaty hands. You release the die after far too many shakes, and it chatters to the table. The moment plays out in slow motion, each side coming into view in agonizing succession. The players around you watch the spectacle unfold, loudly hoping and praying for the odds to work in your favor. You look on hopefully, biting your lip as your pupils follow the movement. The object in question gradually comes to a stop, rolling over one last time to display the numbers 2-0 in bright, blinding red paint. "Holy shit." You exhale, unable to believe you've actually succeeded. You look around the room, met with seven pairs of widened eyes and accompanying mouths hanging slack jawed to mirror your own skepticism.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do it! Congratulations to Y/N on claiming a victory on her first game!" Eddie announces with a proud grin, bowing to you while extending his arms dramatically.

"Fuck yeah!" Dustin cheers, and the others join in with hoots and hollers while they squish you in a huddle of bodies. You're over the moon to have done so well on your first try, jumping up and down with glee. You imagine this is what it's like when sports teams win their big game, adrenaline and explosive joy coursing through your body when you realize you’ve managed to pull it off.

Eddie scoots his chair out, pushing his way through the crowd to reach you. He reels you into his embrace, kissing you passionately as a reward for truly becoming the Queen of Hellfire. Your knees give out as you melt into him, and he lifts you up to wrap your legs around his waist. "Well done, sweetheart." He says when his lips leave yours, an unrestrained hunger in his eyes. You can see he is nearly desperate to celebrate your achievement in his particularly ravenous way.

You nod in understanding, smirking as you think about what he's going to be doing to you as soon as you're alone. "Thanks, love. Let's clean up and go home, hm?" You suggest, gently squeezing his sides with your thighs. Eddie puts you back down, and you assist him and the others in scooping up dice and player pieces. You can tell he's rushing, clumsily dropping his papers on the floor. He needs to get out of Mike's basement as soon as possible. You still have to drop the other kids at their homes after this, and neither of you want to take a second longer than necessary. You can't deny that during this whole weekend, every turn and attack and spell has served as a unique type of foreplay for you two. You've never shared such intensity before, it's a wonder nobody picked up on you two smoldering the entire game.

Friday was certainly mind-blowing, but last night was even crazier. You rode Eddie's cock for what felt like hours in his bed, crying his name to high heaven while you came over and over. He even pulled out some handcuffs he'd neglected to tell you about before, chaining your hands behind you while he railed you from the back. You called him Dungeon Master whenever he asked, well, more like commanded. He spanked your ass harder and harder every time you said it, the red-hot sting on your flesh sending you over the edge all on its own. He said the filthiest things to you all night, and you reciprocated by telling him just how fucking good he was, how you're his and only his. There must have been at least fifteen orgasms between the two of you, most of which were yours. Making you cum is one of Eddie's favorite things, and he just can't stop himself until you tap out.

You say goodbye to Mike and his parents, loading the rest of the kids into the van for the final time this weekend. You drop off Lucas and Erica first, then Dustin, and finally the Tanners as they live the furthest away from the Wheeler house. Once Ian and James are safely inside, you and Eddie drive over to his place. Wayne just so happens to have a night off from work, a much-needed rest from back-breaking labor at the plant. You'd both been hoping to have the place to yourselves, but you suppose your libidos will just have to wait a while longer.

Eddie makes dinner for the three of you, taking this as a chance to have the meal you'd planned to share before Wayne got sick. "Need any help, Eds?" You offer from the couch, beer in hand as you sit with Wayne. He's got a baseball game on, and you can't follow it worth shit. He offers helpful commentary in his comforting tone, and you slowly grasp the rules as you listen.

"Nah, you just sit pretty and let me work my magic." Eddie replies with a slight panic in his voice. He's trying out one of the recipes from the books you bought him. He's practiced it a couple of times when he's home alone, all of which have ended in using the fire extinguisher from underneath the sink. But he has faith that with you here as his good luck charm, he can finally do it. He scrambles around the kitchen, tenderizing chicken and setting potatoes to boil on the stove.

"Don't burn down the whole trailer, now. I'd hate to end up homeless 'cause you wanna impress your lady friend, Edward." Wayne says, making you laugh. He gives you a kind smile, returning the attention to the men on TV swinging bats and running in tight white pants.

"No fires today, Wayne. I'd bet my left nut on it." Eddie retorts, clanging bowls and utensils around hastily. You crane your neck to inspect what he's doing, but you really have no fucking clue what's going on in there.

"I'd much prefer money or smokes, kid." Wayne replies while chuckling to himself.

"I'm sure it'll be great, darling. I believe in you." You call to Eddie in encouragement, still watching the players swing and miss on the screen before you.

"Thank you, baby." Eddie smiles, and he starts to relax. He knows damn well he could present you with a plate absolutely burnt to a crisp and you'd eat every last bite, telling him how delicious it was afterwards. He takes a deep breath, letting the few chef's skills he has take the reins. He's carefully reading the recipes in the book step by step to stay on the right track.

The smells wafting over to you from the kitchen some time later are making your mouth water, thyme and rosemary are particularly present. Your stomach growls loudly, giving yourself away. "How much longer, Ed? I think Y/N's 'bout ready to eat the couch!" Wayne teases, though you take no offense. You were tempted to ask yourself, but you didn't want to interrupt Eddie's process.

"Almost done, like...five more minutes!" Eddie says as he pulls a pan out of the oven. The smell only grows stronger, and your belly tenses as you await the opportunity to taste whatever he’s created. He opens the cabinet to pull out some plates, setting them on the counter to dish out the food. He places a large, roasted chicken breast on each plate, cutting into his own to make sure it's done. "Perfect." He murmurs to himself, smirking at how tender and juicy the inside of the meat is. He scoops potatoes and green beans from the pan to sit beside the chicken, and brings each plate to the table once he's finished. "Dinner is officially served." He announces, retrieving silverware from one of the drawers. You and Wayne meet him at the table. Eddie sits between the two of you, waiting expectantly for you to comment on your plates.

You look down at the meal before you, steam rising off of it in the dim lighting. It's straight out of a picture book, and you can't help just staring at it for a moment. "Wow, Eds. It looks amazing! Smells really good, too." You glance at him, giving a proud smile like the one you received from him earlier today. You pick up your fork and knife, cutting into the chicken. The dull blade glides through the meat effortlessly, and you just know you're gonna have to hold back a vulgar sound when you finally taste it. You pierce the slice with your fork, bringing it to your lips. You bite down, gasping at the juices releasing from the tender flesh. You chew slowly, your mouth sitting open in shock once you swallow.

"Well? How is it?" Eddie asks while biting his lip. You haven't said anything for a moment, making him nervous. You meet his gaze, somehow more turned on than you were after winning the campaign. There's something so attractive to you that Eddie can cook like no one else on this earth. Everything he makes for you is a labor of love, and it puts all others to shame.

"It's fucking fantastic!" You tell him honestly, unable to hold back as you stare at him with dilated pupils.

"I second that." Wayne says with his mouth half-full. He didn't bother to participate in any dramatic effect. You don't blame him, this chicken is so damn good.

"You really think so?" Eddie blushes at the praise.

"Of course I do." You reply sincerely. He doesn't say anything else, just leans over slightly to give you a thankful kiss. Eddie can't resist grabbing the sides of your face, deepening the kiss with no regard for the other company in the room.

"Jesus, cut it out! I'm tryin' to eat, ya damn horndog!" Wayne chides, directing his disdain at his nephew as opposed to you. Eddie breaks away abruptly, digging into his own serving to hide his embarrassment.

The three of you eat hastily, utterly enamored with your food. Everything is cooked just right, with the optimal amount of seasoning. Eddie clears the plates once you're all finished, rejoining you at the table. "That was really amazing, baby. Thank you for making it." You speak affectionately, reaching over to take his hand in yours.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. I'm glad you liked it. It's all thanks to those books you gave me." He replies, stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

"You're turnin' into a regular little housewife, Ed." Wayne jokes as he takes a swig of his beer.

"I never took you to be so old-fashioned, Wayne." You quip, keeping the light laughter going in the room. You really enjoy the relationship these two have. It's the perfect balance between supportive and ball-busting. To be welcomed into their little world so easily is truly a treat in your eyes. The families of almost all your exes were much more conservative with their attachments.

"I can promise you, there ain't a damn thing that's traditional about the Munson family." Wayne chuckles, before continuing. "But I sure as shit wouldn't have it any other way." He claps a hand on Eddie's shoulder, shaking it in playful tenderness. "Speakin’ of, Wilfred called again today." He says as gently as he can, and the statement snuffs out the happy energy in the room. It pains Wayne to say a single word about his brother, even his name feels like knives scraping against his gums. But he wouldn't bring him up if it wasn't important.

"What’s the bastard want this time?" Eddie asks, shrinking in his chair as his mind slips into survival mode.

"Well, I,uh…I hate to say this when we've been havin' such a good time tonight. But, I 'spose there ain't a convenient time for bad news." Wayne dances around the subject, but you imagine whatever he's about to say is going to drop like a bomb. Heavy, explosive, destructive. You worry how Eddie will react, you can see his fight or flight battling with itself all over his face. Wayne sighs, clearing his throat. "He's dyin', Edward."

Eddie chuckles abruptly, shaking his head. "Voluntarily?" He asks as a poor joke, falling into an unnerving fit of laughter.

You and Wayne look to each other, worried that your man has lost his mind. "Eddie, please be serious. It ain't funny." His uncle speaks sternly, but it only makes him laugh harder. His eyes water from how hard he's going, and his body shudders with each guffaw. It's like he's heard the world's most hilarious joke, laughing himself to death over it. "He's got cancer, goddammit!" Wayne bangs his fist on the table, becoming angry at Eddie cackling his head off at this news.

"GOOD! THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING DESERVES, WAYNE!" Eddie screams back, his face going red as his features scrunch into unbridled rage. It's like a switch has flipped, the humor is gone as soon as it came. He's breathing heavily, a small step away from snarling. He stands up abruptly, knocking his chair over. It bangs against the floor, scraping the beaten linoleum. He stomps down the hall with his fists balled at his sides. He goes into his room, nearly breaking the door off its hinges when he slams it. You flinch at the sound, pinching your eyes shut in reflex.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have said anything tonight. I just don't know what to do." Wayne apologizes, sniffling slightly. He didn't want to upset Eddie, far from it. He's conflicted about his brother dying. On the one hand, he's one of the few people left in his family. On the other, he's a real piece of shit that beat his wife and son after falling to the bottom of the bottle. Wayne was always taught that blood is thicker than water, but he's been doubting the validity of that statement more and more when it comes to Wilfred.

"It's fine, Wayne. I'm very sorry about your brother. This can't be an easy time for you. I know he's not the greatest guy or anything, but I can tell you value family a lot." You pause, contemplating if you should even ask the one question that's flitting about in your mind. "Did he say how long he's got?" His expression changes slightly, and you worry you're overstepping now. "You don't have to tell me, I know I'm not fam一"

"Don't say that, Y/N.” Wayne cuts you off. “You count as family in my eyes, and you do even more in Eddie's. He loves you more than I ever saw him capable of before. Don't ever doubt the well-earned place you have here, ya hear me?" He speaks purposefully, ensuring every word he says rings true.

"Okay." You nod, letting him continue the conversation.

"To answer your question, he's got a couple months left at best. And his dyin' wish is to see Edward one last time. To apologize or some shit, make amends. Fucker had his whole life to make shit right with his son, and he waits 'til he's about to meet the goddamn devil himself to do it." He chuckles wryly, letting out a resigned sigh.

"I'm not sure Eddie's gonna go for that. I don't really blame him. I certainly wouldn't if I was in his shoes." You can already see how a potential try at convincing him to go through with it would pan out, and it ends in yelling and tears. Maybe a hole punched into the wall for good measure.

"I can't say I disagree. But I promised Wilfred I'd get 'im over there. He's my brother, and he ain't gonna be tormentin' this world much longer." His eyes close for a moment, gearing up to say something else that he finds very difficult. "Look, I hate to ask this of ya, but can you try to talk to Eddie? I know he'd listen to ya more than anyone else. Feel free to tell me to shove it, but it would mean the world, Y/N."

You nod again, wanting to help him out. "I'll try my best, Wayne. I'm not gonna push him into it if he's not digging the idea. I love Eddie too much to force him to face that man if it'll only end up hurting him."

"That's more than fair, darlin'. Just try your best, and I'll take 'no' for an answer if he chooses it." You both stand up from the table, meeting in a soft hug. "I don't envy your position, that's for sure." He laughs, drawing a giggle from you too.

"No shit. But it's better to try and get shot down, than to end up regretting not trying at all. I'm sure that's something my old man learned that hard way in the end." Wayne gives you a gentle squeeze at the mention of your own father, Eddie had told him about the funeral a week or so ago.

You let one another go after a moment, wiping a couple stray tears from your eyes. You make your way down the hall to attend to your man, afraid of what version of him you might find lurking inside his room. You quietly knock on the door, hearing nothing on the other side. You apprehensively twist the knob, pushing the door open as gently as you can. You find Eddie sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor. His hair drapes to hide his face, and the heel of his foot taps incessantly against the floor. "What do you want?" He asks, barely fighting back the urge to yell at the top of his lungs.

"Eddie..." He softens slightly when he realizes it's you. His foot slows down, and his trembling subsides slightly. "I don't really...know what to say. All the usual questions make no sense. You know, ‘are you alright?’, or ‘can I get you anything?’. So, I guess I'll try this instead. What do you need?" You close the door behind you, walking across the room to sit beside him. You don't touch him just yet, you don't want to enter his space unless he invites you.

"I need you, Y/N. Just you." He whispers, raising his head to bring it level with yours. He's been crying silent, angry tears. His eyes are red and puffy, and his plump bottom lip shakes independently from his body. You bring yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He buries his head against your neck, releasing an borderline inhuman wail that vibrates against your skin. One that rivals the guttural sounds he made after his fight with Jason. His own arms squeeze you so tight, but it's a welcome constriction. His body aches for yours, clinging to you like an infant to its mother. He just needs you to make everything okay again.

"It's okay, love. I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere, alright?" You stroke his hair with your hand, rocking him gently side to side to soothe his distressed soul.

"I'm sorry I got so mad, Y/N. I didn't wanna yell like that. I'm sorry if I scared you." Eddie helplessly attempts to apologize, his words coming out choppy and pained. His sobs wrench his insides around, almost making him ill. He wants to stop crying, to stop making you have to comfort him so much. He's always hated how emotional he is, sometimes he cries at absolutely nothing at all. If he only knew that it's one of the many reasons why you love him so much. His vulnerability is just a bullet-point in a long list of things that make him the greatest man you've ever known.

"Baby, it's okay. Don't worry about it, I know you weren't mad at me. And Wayne knows too, he knows you're just upset. And that's okay. You don't have to be anything but what you feel right now. You're safe here with me. I promise, Eds." You coo at him, hoping you can help him relax soon. This certainly isn't how you pictured tonight going, the exact opposite, actually. But life's funny that way. Just when you think everything's sunshine and lollipops, an atom bomb falls from the sky to blow it all to pieces.

You help Eddie ride out the tears, getting him to lie down after carefully removing his clothes. He nestles under the covers, only his eyes and the top of his head peeking out at you. He's gone silent now, his throat hurts terribly from his meltdown. The only sound from him is the steady breathing through his nose. You continue to caress his hair, it's one of the easiest ways to calm him down. He looks so tired, and you won't lie that tonight has worn you out as well. You were riding on an incredible high that you hoped would end with even more incredible sex, but now you're both feeling lower than you ever thought possible. Sleep's heavy hands rest on your shoulders, overriding everything else. "You comin' to bed, sweetheart?" Eddie asks meekly, his words muffled by the blanket he's taken shelter in.

"Yeah. I just have to pee first. Do you need anything? Maybe some water?" You offer, he's probably a little dehydrated after all the crying. He nods, flicking his eyes away from you in shame. "Baby, please don't be hard on yourself. You haven't done anything wrong. I'll be right back, okay?" You insist that there's no reason for him to be so sorry, but he can't help feeling like a scolded child. It's not anything you said, nor any of Wayne's words either. It's what he's saying to himself, hidden within the confines of his skull.

You're being an asshole, Eddie. You yelled at Wayne, and now Y/N has to baby you. How can you possibly think you're good enough for her? You may be well into your twenties, but you're still the same silly child you've always been. Crying because your daddy who used to beat you is dying? How pathetic. A single tear forces itself from his eye, and he quickly wipes it away before you can see. He hears the toilet flush, and the sink turning on and off. He listens to your footsteps landing softly along the floor to the kitchen and back to him. You re-enter the room, coaxing him to sit up and drink from the glass you brought him. "Thanks." Eddie says simply, slurping down the water in a few seconds flat. It hits hard in his stomach, cooling him down from the inside out. He hands you the empty cup, and you set it on the nightstand. You flick off the light, removing your clothes to join Eddie under the covers.

Before you can roll over to let him spoon you, he snatches you into his arms. He tangles his legs with yours, not wanting to let go. You stiffen at the sudden movement, but relax immediately when you realize what he wants. You get as far into his space as you can, your tits pressing against his bare chest. "I love you, Eddie." You give him a gentle kiss, not expecting him to return it with much force. But he does, more hungry and desperate than you anticipated. But the feeling behind it isn't lust, it's longing. Even though you're right here with him, any centimeter of space between you feels like miles. Eddie wants more than anything to be okay, but tonight's news has fractured something in him. He'll mend, with time. But he needs you now more than ever before, and he really hopes you're up to the task.

"I love you too, princess." Eddie replies once you pull away. The way his lips met with yours makes your heart ache terribly. You know he's struggling right now, and you have every intention of staying by his side through this difficult time. You want him to lean on you, you want to be his rock. You dread the idea of even breathing a word of the promise you made with Wayne to Eddie, you're afraid it'll push him off the deep end. You choose to put the notion aside for now, rest is much more important, for both of you. Sleep takes you both into its inviting depths swiftly and easily, but the journey you embark upon in dreamland is far from pleasant.

You're strapped to the kitchen chair in the trailer, unable to move. Darkness surrounds you, the only light coming from the overhead lamp above the table. Wayne and Eddie are trapped just the same as you, seemingly reliving the events that took place at dinner. Eddie's laughing maniacally, his eyes going wild and bloodshot as he cackles with glee. He's staring at you, jaw almost unhinged like a snake. You can see all his teeth, his tongue, the back of his throat lit up by the light. The moisture in his mouth and eyes twinkles eerily at you. The veins in his forehead and neck stick out prominently beneath his flesh that has reddened from laughing so hard. 

"Shut up! Stop laughing! It's not fuckin' funny! He's dyin', you big idiot! Stop it! Just stop it!" Wayne screams repeatedly at his nephew, practically turning blue at the force of his pleading.

"GOOD! THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING DESERVES, WAYNE!" Eddie bellows back, the sheer volume of it shaking the walls of the trailer. "HE SHOULD CONSIDER HIMSELF SO LUCKY! IF I HAD IT MY WAY, I'D KILL THE FUCKER MYSELF! SLICE HIM UP WITH THAT FUCKING SHIV HE CUT ME WITH! GIVE HIM A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE!" His voice morphs into a deep roar, almost like it's not his anymore at all. This is when you realize there's been another figure with you in the room this whole time. An older man, just barely peeking out from behind your boyfriend like a shadow. His eye meets yours, and he makes himself known once he sees you've found him out.

He's tall and slender, emaciated even. His hair sits shaggily atop his head, messy, gray, and thin. His yellowed eyes are sunken into his skull, and his prison jumpsuit sits loosely on his skeletal form. He's smirking menacingly at you, and you know instantly that this is Wilfred standing before you. Though he may be much older and sicker than Eddie, the family resemblance is quite striking. His hand is hidden behind Eddie's back, who has now fallen silent once you noticed his father. You watch Wilfred flex his arm slightly behind his son, and use him as a puppet to speak to you. "Nice to meet you, darlin'." Eddie's mouth moves unnaturally, Wilfred's voice coming out of his snapping smile. You hear wet squelching at every word, you imagine it's a grisly scene behind Eddie's back. His father's hand shoved deep inside him, blood and viscera leaking out of the brutally formed hole.

"No." Is all you can manage to respond with. You just look on in horror, you don't want to see another second of this.

"What's the matter, sweet-cheeks? I could very well be your father-in-law one day, there's no need to be so rude. Use your words, pretty thing!" Wilfred's other arm stretches across the table to grasp your chin roughly. His fingers are grimy, smudging grease and dirt on your flesh. You flinch at the sensation, wanting to vomit from the smell of him. It's like rotting flesh and sulfur, like he's a demon who rose up from the depths of hell.

"Let him go!" You shout helplessly. He just shakes his head no, maneuvering Eddie's head to mimic the sentiment.

"No can do, darlin'. And since you have no manners, I guess I'll just have to finish what I started!" He releases your face, reaching into his pocket to pull out the shiv Eddie told you about. It's rusty and dull, still coated in blood from the last time.

"Leave him alone! Don't you hurt him!" You scream, tears streaming down your face. But he doesn't heed your words one bit. Instead, he brings the blade to Eddie's throat.

"Say goodbye, princess." Wilfred's voice says through Eddie's lips one last time. Your love's face still smiles at you, a single tear rolling from his left eye. And in one smooth motion, the blade slashes across Eddie's neck. Thick, dark blood pours from the wound, spraying and splattering on the table, his clothes, the floor. A smatter of it whips onto your cheek, uncomfortably warm and stinking of iron.

"NO! EDDIE!" You cry, trying to fight against your restraints. But it's no use, and Eddie sits helplessly beside you in his chair. His eyes don't close, nor his mouth as the life drains out of him. He's just perfectly still with that awful expression on his face. His throat gushes blood, winnowing down to a pitiful drip until there's nothing left. You suddenly wonder where Wayne is, but he's gone when you look across the table. No chair, no body, nothing. And when you look back, there's no sign of Wilfred either. He's not in plain sight, and he's not acting like Eddie's shadow again. You're all alone, still stuck in this chair, with no one to save you. You release visceral wails and screams, staring at Eddie's grinning corpse hopelessly.

"Y/N!" You hear Eddie yell as he shakes you awake frantically. You sit up in bed, gasping as you come to in the darkness of his room. You're soaked in sweat, and there's a beam of light coming through the open door. Wayne's kneeling at the side of the bed, holding your hand while Eddie keeps the blanket above your breasts. "You were screaming in your sleep, sweetheart. Brought me out of my own damn nightmare. Are you okay?" He asks, turning your head to look at him. You meet his eyes, finding nothing resembling how they were in your dream. They're wide and terrified, searching yours for an explanation to your worrying behavior.

"It was terrible, Eddie! We were at the table, strapped to the chairs! And you were laughing so loud! And your dad was there, moving you around like a puppet! And he slit your throat open, there was blood everywhere! And then I was all alone! It was awful, just awful!" You recount your night terror in a sobbing ramble, not caring how irrational or incoherent you sound. Eddie pulls you closer to him, shushing you as you cry violently against his chest.

"Jesus Christ. You two gonna be alright in here?" Wayne asks, giving Eddie a concerned expression. Eddie nods, shooing his uncle away. Wayne's hesitant to leave, and he feels absolutely horrible. He regrets giving you the task of getting Eddie to see his father, guessing that you've been let in the know about what Wilfred did at their last visit. He sighs, shaking his head in shame at himself. He feels like he's making all the wrong decisions here, upsetting the both of you in different ways. At this point, he doesn't give a damn what his brother wants. Wilfred can suck the devil's three-pronged prick as far as he's concerned. He leaves you two alone, making a beeline for the fridge to get another beer. Your screams scared the absolute shit out of him, and he hopes to never hear them again.

"Shh, it's okay, baby. It was just a dream. It wasn't real. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." Eddie coos, trying his best to soothe you. How is it that every time something stressful happens, you two have to take turns getting the other to stop crying? Eddie glances at the clock, and it reads 1:45AM. Neither of you have been asleep very long, maybe an hour or two at best.

"You said you had a nightmare too. What happened?" You ask with your face still smushed against him.

"Just the same dream I've told you about before, ending up in prison with my dad. Wasn't nearly as scary as waking up from your screams, though. And Wayne came bursting in here wondering what the hell was going on. It all happened so fast, I thought it was another nightmare, to be honest." He speaks calmly, though the events that took place while he was half-asleep have frightened him to the core.

"Well, I'm certainly not feeling tired anymore." You reply, nuzzling his neck with your head.

"Me either. We could watch a movie if you want, I doubt Wayne's going to sleep anytime soon. Or I could read to you, we could play cards or something. Anything you want, sweetheart." Eddie makes plenty of suggestions, all of which could certainly help. However, you're afraid that Wilfred could be lurking around any corner, hiding in the shadows, puppeteering your boyfriend. You're so afraid to open your eyes, worried you'll be strapped to the kitchen chair all over again.

"I'd love to do any of that, but I'm so scared, Eds. I can't open my eyes, I don't want to see anything horrific like that again." Your voice trembles, and your heart continues to pound.

He tuts. "I promise you won't, baby." Eddie puts his hands on either side of your face, causing you to flinch. "Relax, love. Let me lead you." He says patiently. You nod in his grip, allowing him to bring your head level with his. It's disorienting to sense movement when all you can see is pitch black. "Open your eyes, sweetheart. It's just me here, no one else." He assures you.

"Okay." You reply shakily, taking a moment to breathe deeply. Inhale, hold, and exhale. You force your eyelids to retract, finding Eddie's kind expression waiting for you on the other side. You let out a sigh of relief, rolling your eyes at yourself for being so afraid.

"Atta girl. See, not so scary now, right?" He smiles, keeping it smaller than usual to avoid frightening you. "So, what would you like to do, angel?" He asks. He'd do whatever you want at this point. Buy you ice cream, go streaking downtown, rob a bank. Anything to help chase the monsters away.

You think on it for a moment, contemplating your options. You don't really want to leave the bedroom, the mere sight of the kitchen would probably make you burst into tears. You just want to be close to Eddie, to latch onto him and never let go. Naturally, your brain makes the only logical conclusion it possibly can in this situation. You bring your hand to Eddie's cheek, stroking it gently. He hums at the contact, watching you closely. He has an inkling as to where this is going, which worries him. He wants to please you, any way you desire. But he wonders if this is what you really want. His hand takes hold of yours, lowering it between your bodies for a moment. "What is it, Eddie?" You ask, realizing he might not be in the mood.

"Y/N. I'll give you anything you want, you know that. I just want to make sure you're not jumping the gun here. So please, use your words. Tell me exactly what I can do to make you feel better." He speaks seriously, his loving face illuminated by the moon shining through the window.

"I don't want you to call me a slut, or choke me, or bite me. I don't want you to be rough with me, or make me scream, or slap my ass." You're trying to state things as plainly as possible. Telling him that as much as you want this, you just can't handle your usual dynamic tonight. "I want you to be slow, and gentle, and tender. I want you to cover me with kisses, and say pretty things to me. I want you to make love to me, Eddie. Use your love for me to make the monsters go away. Please?" You don't mean to come off so dramatic, needy, even. But you know he understands you perfectly.

"That's all I needed to hear, princess." Eddie replies, leaning in to kiss you deeply. You let him take the lead, and he lays you down on the mattress, hovering above you as your mouths quietly smack together. Your head rests on the pillow, and you feel his hands caressing all over your body. His palms make contact with your tits, squeezing them ever so softly. You moan when he grazes your hardened nipples. You don't want to make a lot of noise, you figure Eddie's uncle doesn't need to be traumatized by your screams again. "You're so beautiful, baby." Eddie whispers, moving his lips to your neck. He peppers the skin with wet, warm kisses, never biting down.

"And you're very handsome, Eddie. Your lips feel so good. I want to feel them all over me." You're feeling very warm beneath him and the blanket that rests just above your waist.

"Your wish is my command, angel." He says sweetly, listening to your request without hesitation. He slowly moves his mouth along to your right shoulder, and down the length of your arm to the tips of your fingers. You let out breathy moans all the while, savoring every time he meets your flesh. He repeats these steps on the other side, moving on to your chest afterwards. His blazing touch meets the swells of your breasts, and the valley between them. "I love your tits, sweetheart. They’re so soft, and perfect in my hands." He compliments you, giving you a loving glance before taking your left nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls around your sensitive bud, making you gasp.

"God, your tongue is amazing, too." Your eyes flutter closed. Eddie's pace is patient, in no rush whatsoever. He's absolutely worshiping you, refusing to neglect a single part of your body. You're becoming unbelievably wet for him. You can feel your arousal seeping into the bed below you as it drips from your cunt. He migrates to your other breast, a muted whine escaping your lungs. "Fuck." Your insides are bubbling, growing towards a boiling point.

"I love making you feel good, sweetheart. Your noises are music to my ears." Eddie scoots down further, giving your stomach and hips repetitive little pecks. They're warm and ticklish, tempting you to squirm. His tongue dips into your navel, pulling another stifled moan from you. Your hands grasp at the taut sheets, unable to form a grip. Eddie's lips meet your hip, then your thigh, all the way down to your ankle. You wait in anticipation for Eddie's mouth to finally come in contact with your pussy, he's currently hidden under the blanket as he makes the trip back up your other leg. His large hands spread your thighs open slightly, and he slinks toward the place he's been dying to taste this whole time.

He licks a thin stripe from your entrance to your clit, sighing blissfully at the sweet, musky flavor. "Eddie." You groan, trying to keep the volume down. Your nails dig ferociously into the bedding. He's dragging his wet muscle on you at a snail's pace, but it's probably the most intense instance of him eating you out you've ever experienced. You tent your knees, allowing yourself to watch him work on you under the covers. He glances at you when he notices the moonlight gleaming down on him, smiling wide before slipping his tongue inside you to stroke your g-spot. "Oh my god. Keep doing that, Eddie. It's perfect." Your walls flex around him involuntarily, a flash of white-hot pleasure rippling through you.

"Mm." He responds, rubbing against your sweet spot repeatedly. It's a challenge for him to maintain this torturous pace, using all his willpower to not fuck you hard and fast with his mouth and fingers.

"Just like that, love. You're gonna make me cum…so fucking good." His tongue flicks inside you expertly, his nose brushing against your clit as he pushes you over the edge. Your breath catches in your throat, and you keep a loud moan trapped inside your chest once the oxygen returns. Your pussy strangles Eddie's tongue, coating it in your juices. Your legs tremble, threatening to snap themselves shut. He strokes your thighs as you ride out your high, and he drinks up every last drop of your cum as it flows out of you.

"You always taste so sweet, angel. I'll never get enough of you." Eddie says once he pulls his mouth away from your cunt. He crawls back up from beneath the blankets to kiss you passionately. You moan at your arousal on his lips, slipping your tongue in to dance languidly with his. You reach between your bodies, grazing your fingertips along Eddie's stiff cock. He grunts against you, his hips stuttering ever so slightly at the contact. You wrap your hand around his length, carefully stroking him up and down. Your other hand goes to Eddie's cheek, cupping it as you continue to make out with him.

The moves you make on one another flow naturally, almost like you're performing a dance. It's unbelievably sensual. That word in particular floats around your love-drunk head for a moment. Sensual, it's such a mature term. But it perfectly encapsulates this moment you and Eddie are currently entangled in. There's no expectations, no clamoring race to the proverbial finish line. It's just pure love, and affection, and commitment to one another. Your mouths pull apart as you need to breathe, and you're staring deep into Eddie's eyes while you continue to touch him. "I want you inside me, baby. You're the perfect size, and you fill me up so well."

"Damn, sweetheart. That's gotta be the greatest compliment you've ever given me." He quips, drawing comfortable giggles from the two of you. You kiss him again, using your free hand to gently grip his ass to pull him closer to you. You rub the tip of his dick against your folds, spreading your arousal. You share a muted moan, cherishing every passing second like it's your last. Eddie smoothly removes your hand from his length, bringing the head to wait just outside your inviting entrance. "You ready, babydoll?" He asks, gazing down at you affectionately.

"Yes, love." You whisper, nodding in encouragement. He pushes in just as slowly as he's done everything else tonight, hushed groans escaping you of their own volition. Inch by inch, his cock becomes acquainted with every ridge and groove of your insides. But all the other times he's been inside you don't even compare to right now. Sure, fucking one another's brains out is a helluva good time. But, this? This is as absolute of an act of love that any singular human can hope to achieve. You're melding into one singular being, your hearts beating in sync to create the most beautiful music. The kind that all the cheesy love songs are about. The type that poets rhyme about. The sort that the artists paint, sculpt, and craft about. The heart of all things, from the fossils deep in the earth, to the blazing stars in the night sky, lies here within this bed.

"I love you, Y/N." Eddie says, softer than you've ever heard him say it before. A single tear runs down his cheek at how meaningful this moment is. You reach up to wipe it away, smiling warmly at him.

"I love you too, Eddie." You reply, the words just as delicate coming from your own lips. The gorgeous man above you begins to move, pulling out nice and slow, then returning to your warmth.

"Oh, my god." Eddie whimpers, eyes rolling back into his head at how amazing this all is. There's very little force behind his movements, only enough to give you both exquisite pleasure. He repeats the action over and over. It feels unbelievable, you breathe heavily in each other's faces at the intensity. The most dulcet noises flow liberally from your mouths, amplifying every sensation you're experiencing. A light sheen of sweat coats your bodies, and Eddie lowers his head to plant endless kisses to your throat.

"You're amazing, baby. Everything you do is like magic." You sigh, arching your back in coordination with his sedate thrusts. You hold him as close to you as possible, your fingers spread wide across his back.

"Fuck, you feel so good inside, angel. You're so warm, and tight. So beautiful." Eddie says as he continues to worship your neck. He's honestly not sure how long he can last like this. Luckily, your occasional pulses around him signal that you're in the same boat. His hands rest at your hips, helping him to stay upright despite his knees wanting to buckle.

You sense your end nearing again, and it really hasn't taken much at all. Rolling waves of pleasure wash over you, gradually building higher and higher as Eddie continues to move in and out of you. "I'm getting close, Eds. Can you go just a little faster?" You ask so nicely, enjoying every last moment of this.

"Of course, princess. I'm right there with you." He increases his pace ever so slightly, brushing your sweet spot in an even more impeccable way than before. "Shit." Eddie groans, his hips stuttering as his high threatens to take hold.

"Almost there, love. Kiss me while we cum, please?" You plead, needing to feel as much of him as you possibly can. Eddie just nods, his brain devoid of words entirely. His mouth lands clumsily on yours, and he rubs light circles on your clit to bring you down with him. You moan against one another as lightning strikes through your bodies. You give in to sweet surrender, clinging onto any flesh either of you can reach. Your walls squeeze Eddie's cock, and his pelvis bucks into you once while his load fills you up. You whine at the sudden motion, though it's still extremely gentle compared to his usual level of force.

A small amount of your arousal mixes with his, waiting to drip from you once Eddie pulls out. You're still kissing repeatedly as your highs subside, letting out satisfied sighs and muffled 'I love you's when there's a small gap between you. Eddie's dick softens inside you, and you both hiss slightly when he removes himself. Just as predicted, your mixed release flows lazily from your pussy. "Gorgeous." Eddie groans at the sight, leaning down to clean you up with his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You gasp, you thought he was going to grab a towel or something. He's still tender as ever, only licking where it's needed so he won't spoil the wonderful experience you've had tonight.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't wanna leave to get a towel and have Wayne see me naked. Plus, you taste too damn good to waste." He explains, laying down beside you in the afterglow.

"Hey, I'm not complaining! You just took me by surprise. On another note, that was easily the best sex we've ever had." You roll over to look at his glistening face.

"You're damn right! Shit, if I'd known making love could be better than fucking you senseless, I would be doing that every time!" Eddie exclaims, still in an utterly mind-blown state at the magic you made together. You're both in a ridiculously good mood now, forgetting about the monsters entirely. You feel even closer to one another than before, if that's even possible.

"Maybe we should do it this way more often then." You suggest with a grin, giggling as you snuggle up to him. He gladly accepts you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you lovingly.

"You got it, babe. How can I possibly say no to you, hm?" He chuckles, giving you another little kiss. It only lasts a couple seconds before being interrupted by huge yawns. "Well, I think that's our cue to get some rest. I've got a shift at the theater tomorrow, now that I think about it." Eddie checks the time again, it's almost three in the morning. You two really took your time.

"Shit, I totally forgot! I'm sorry, Eds. Now I've kept you up and you're gonna be exhausted tomo一" You apologize profusely, but he cuts you off.

"Y/N, it's fine. It's my responsibility, not yours. 'Kay?" He soothes your unease, stroking your back with the tips of his fingers.

"Okay. Hey, speaking of the theater...do you think your boss would give me a job over the summer? I can always work at the Big Buy if not. But I figured it could be kinda fun to work together." Eddie cocks an eyebrow at you, he had no idea you wanted to work during the summer. He suspects it might have to do with whatever little 'surprise' you've been hiding.

"Um...I can ask him. There's not a ton of work to go around, though. So don't get your hopes up." He sees your face fall slightly, he hates the sight of your disappointment. "But I'll try my best. And I must say I'd love to work with you, I think you'd look damn sexy in that uniform." He reassures you, hoping he can convince the owner, Henry Biggs, to let you join the staff. Mr. Biggs is quite the asshole, and Eddie isn't sure you'll be able to handle working for someone like that.

"Thank you, Eddie. You're the sweetest man in the whole wide world." You say with a sleepy smile. You're finding it very hard to keep your eyes open now, and it appears he's in the same position.

"And you're an even sweeter woman, darling. Let's get some rest, you might just have a job interview tomorrow." He plants one final peck to your lips, bringing your head to rest on his chest. You pull up the blankets, trapping all the welcome warmth against your bundle of limbs. Another minute or so later, and the steady beating of your hearts lulls you two to sleep. There's no more nightmares, and no more convict fathers to be found. Just deep, peaceful slumber.

To be continued...

[bonesart]

My pieces for Dimension Disability, a zine I organized for this year’s @d20zinejam

Imagine the respite of being able to sigh in relief and not be charged for the breath. To weep with joy and know that your tears cost you nothing.

When Elaine Lee created the world of Starstruck she asked us to imagine a world where humanity has achieved faster than light spaceflight space travel, invented cybernetic consciousness, and found sapient alien species, but is still ruled by a crypto-fascist hyper-capitalist corporate plutocracy. It’s really not all that hard to imagine really.

For people like me, who live with disabilities in a nation that neglects to give us free healthcare, or even universal insurance, Gunnie’s opening vignette rang a little too true. We know what it’s like to hate our bodies for how costly they are, to be haunted by the debts they accrue.

I’m not paraplegic, and I’m fortunate enough to have been raised in a household that never went uninsured. But I find myself resonating with Gunnie far more than any other disabled D20 character. He is emblematic of many of the truisms of the Disability Rights Movement: Anyone can become disabled at any time, and it is one of the only minority identities that you can gain at any point in your life. One second Gunnie was able bodied, one second he was not. His life was forever changed by an accident. None of us are immune from these catastrophes.

But he also lives in a world of medical miracles. If it weren’t for the cost of his cybernetic body, if it weren’t for the systems that imposed his debts upon him, would we still consider him disabled? Personally, yes. I think a life that requires accommodation is a disabled life. But I also recognize that the medical model of disability is flawed. There are many social forces that disable Gunnie, that disable me. If the two of us didn’t live in capitalist hell worlds, we’d be able to do many things we currently are not. Not to mention the culpability of capitalism in creating dangerous situations that lead to naive navigators being ejected into space without protective gear, or medical systems that leave chronic pain undiagnosed and untreated for over a decade (eh-hem). Gunnie’s story tells us that disability rights won’t be achieved until we shrug off the repressive systems that demand that profits come before people. But it also tells us that we need to be willing and able to care for each other and accommodate many needs even after we ritually sacrifice the execs of Eli Lilly to the Night Yorb, condemn Bezos to a life of sharing a bunk bed with Bazathrax and the Jersey Devil, and nail Elon Musk to a giant metal X before demolishing it with a classic Operation Slippery Puppet.

And Gunnie’s story tells me one more thing. There is joy to be found in a disabled life. Maria Town, president of the American Association of People with Disabilities, once said, “Everyone will become disabled if they are lucky enough…Disability is not necessarily a sign of weakness or a sign of a lack of competence. It is instead a sign of survival and resilience and strength.” There are things Gunnie only does because of his experiences with disability, only because he lives in a disabled body. He counts cards, he ejects his torso from his legs in a wild gambit to get to the ship in time, he longs to free the universe of debt. I think if nothing else, my disabilities have given me determination - to fight invisible oppression, to advocate for my disabled siblings, to make it another day because fuck you migraine, fuck you OCD, you aren’t my mom- and compassion - to love everyone even, the people with minds I don’t understand, to find community with those very different from me, to help where I can.

This has been a long rambling rant (maybe my roommates’ suspicions I have AuDHD and not just the ‘tism have merit), but I hope to leave readers with the inspiration to persevere and to research and fight for disability rights. In the United States, a growing fascist movement seeks to rob us of our rights and it is suspected that the Americans with Disabilities Act is the next target. Non-Americans should also be wary of increasing encroachment of capitalism into your medical system. We all deserve an All Debts Cleared moment. Fight the good fight; the ball is not rolling up, WE ARE THE BALL!

[ID: A digital painting of Gunnie, shown from the shoulders up in profile. He is a bald, Black man with a gold and bronze cybernetic body, and a gold and bronze ring around his forehead. He is smiling, covering his mouth with one hand in disbelief, and crying out of his visible eye. A screen on his neck reads "c-0" in small green analog text. Behind him is a star-scape of indigo and magenta. Above his head, a blue panel bordered by green reads "All Debts Cleared" in green, analog, capitalized text.]

[velvetvexations]

I made a D20 edit to that song! I've seen a couple of transmasc Kipperlillies I liked a lot, too.

Sometimes fate hands you things for free.

Punk is good, punk is life. I really like metalcore.

Eyyyup. It's very annoying. Anything they could be other than a trans woman is a threat to trans women. No one can ever be anything but a trans woman.

The conflict was that stealing the flesh and bodies via mind control consentually is very generally seen as immoral and the scientist character didnt like what the entity was doing, but giving this was the entitys only way of "being born" as it was a egg unable to form a fetus/body "without respurces" and most sane people i dont think willingly would like, agree to give up their body? So the character and entity (after the character bot tried to torture my entity character) came to a deal that the entity could claim a cloned body of the scientist character, and in the agreement the bot character scientist dude gave the entity-a name, Aiden. Anyways in hindsight this just a horror flavored trans allegory in some content half generated by an ai chat bot based on a character from a roleplay series and half generated by me... Does...this count?

I'm going to say yes.

Oh, I used to love that movie.

I'm so glad. All I want in life is to be recognized less as a human and more as a walking set of giant breasts. Truly yall spoil me.

[chungledown-bimothy]

bomber pilot (halberd) is maybe the best entry that will ever exist in this document

[anim-ttrpgs]

Trying out some new ways to use dice in the latest prerelease ‘build’ of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy that will be released on Patreon when it’s done. We want to cut down on number of individual dice rolls, without cutting out any depth or granularity. Not that Eureka had an absurd number of dice rolls in the first place, but making things more efficient is fun and makes me feel smart.

One of those ways we are experimenting with is by having a single roll count for multiple things, when it can.

Before, some situations or actions in Eureka could have secondary effects, such as when a vampire or a wolfman is shot with a silver bullet. Before, if a vampire or wolfman was shot with a silver bullet, you had to roll a separate D6 looking for a 4+, or flip a coin, anything that has a 50% chance, to determine if the bullet left silver residue in the body, thus continually exposing them to silver and debilitating them until the bits could be extracted.

Now, the way we’re doing it is that when you roll the 2D6+Firearms Skill for the gunshot, and the result is a hit, you determine if the hit left silver in the body by looking at the same 2D6 you just rolled. If you see a 5 or a 6 facing up on either D6, the bullet leaves residue. If not, it doesn’t.

At least that’s one way we’re thinking of doing it. Another way is that, after determining that the shot is a hit, you look at the 2D6 you just rolled, and if they add together to make an even number(without any modifier added), then it does leave silver in the body. If not, it doesn’t. At the time of writing this, the playtesters haven’t told me which option they like better yet.

It may not seem like much, but the time saved by not having to make two separate dice rolls for a single attack adds up a lot over the course of a whole session. That’s why, when my group plays AD&D2e, for attack rolls we always roll the D20 and the damage dice at the same time. If the D20 says it’s a hit, you already know the damage, so you don’t need to pick up a different die and roll it. If the D20 says it’s a miss, obviously the damage is 0, so whatever.

[jq37]

I've been following your D20 recaps for a while (they are so much fun!), but Junior Year episode 9 compelled me to create an account for this ask.

Are Jace and Porter both baddies?

Spot got eaten by an owl right before finding Yolanda's body. Yolanda was presumably killed after reporting Kristen's concerns to Jace, and it was established in freshman year that he summons owls. And now the intrepid heroes are digging through the possible path of succession. Maybe he's just bored of doing nothing as the sorcery teacher?

Porter might be a normal shitty teacher, but I'm getting all kinds of bad vibes from his "rage as devotion to doubt" lesson. Maybe doubly so since Brennan brought up the divine taboo of siphoning off worship from one god to empower another? And of course, no word on who his paladin deity is! There may be another connection with Porter being an earth genasi, since Lucy was also a genasi but with giant ancestry.

Plus these were the two teachers talking to Arianwen post-prom, and Porter (knowingly?) infected Ragh with the Kalina plague.

This has gotten away from me. I think I need more yarn for my cork board.

Unrelated, but last thought: Since there's been all the questions about Aguefort by-laws and the literal vs. intended interpretation of the rules, I think it would be funny if Kipperlilly "found" the rogue teacher just by requesting a teacher conference.

First of all, making a Tumblr account just to send this ask? I'm flattered! Thanks for following my recaps!

Now, to your actual question let's talk teachers.

I forgot to put this in my recap but despite the fact that I don't actually have any read on what a motive might be, I did wonder if Jace might worth putting on the suspect list. I mean, he is the last person Yolanda said she was going to talk to before they found her body. And Brennan technically didn't say she wasn't killed by magic, he said there was no magical residue. Sorcerers do metamagic which can change spells and I wonder if Brennan would let something like subtle spell be flavored to not leave magical residue. Absolutely circumstantial and speculative, especially since, as I said before, there's no motive. But it's worth noting and he's def worth looking into/talking to as Yolanda's last mission before she ended up a corpse (RIP). And he did presumably become Principal with Grix gone so movement is happening around him.

(I don't remember the owl thing but that would be a deep pull from Brennan, haha. I got the sense that that was more about just Fig's bad luck but who knows?)

Porter I just talked about in another ask but the genasi thing is an interesting connection. Good spot. My read is that Brennan is playing Porter sincerely but, again, I can def see Brennan leaning into Emily/Fig's last two years of suspicion and making him an integral part of the plot just to pay that off--this is a season of payoffs after all. Either way, just like Jace, he likely has at least some useful info.

Re: Kipperlilly, That would be such a weasel-y way for her to have done that…which makes it entire in character. This is def a loose end I'm very interesting in the Intrepid Heroes following up on so I'm glad Murph/Riz is remembering to roll for it.

Anyway, all good notes! All of it is officially on the board! Can't wait to see what new info we get tomorrow and, now that you have a tumblr count, feel free to stop by my inbox any time :)

[mooniestarstruck]

Are you looking for a game to play this Halloween with your friends? Look no further! I got a great recommendation for you! Boneyard is a frantic game about being a necromancer and finding parts to create a body to animate. The fun doesn’t come from that alone, though, it comes from the competition in having to fend against other players and their attempts to usurp your body parts or even destroy them. It’s quite fun to play and only requires a d20, something to draw with and something to draw on, and the prompt list from the game!

The rules are simple: you roll a d20 to see if you get a body part and another to see how chaos ensues! From there, you read what happens from the lists of prompts, and you might get to choose the fate of your fellow necromancers. Mostly, it’s up to destiny to decide who gets ahead, but in those precious moments in which you get to choose who gets a setback, you feel like you’re holding the last +4 in a game of UNO.

The only hiccup with this system is that sometimes the gameplay might become a bit long and repetitive, but my friends and I have a great house rule to aid with that! It consists in rolling the “chaos ensues!” table only after getting a useful result in the “body part” one. To make things more dynamic, a high player count is advised, but it can definitely be played one-on-one.

The game’s design is pretty nice, with really cute illustrations and a well-organized distribution, and it is full of references from different pieces of horror media. Just a treat for the player! It shows that Darkheart Games put a fair amount of effort into this project, and however you choose to play it, I can guarantee you’ll have fun with this game, so I hope you give it a try!

[lilabella12]

Ultimate Decades Challenge Masterpost

Hello everyone who's interested!

I started the ultimate decades challenge in august 2023 and this is my way to share the stories of my sims and their families. Sadly I lost my savefile in December but I wanted to start over for some time. It took me a while to get all my mods back together, sorry for the long wait!

I'm currently playing the Norwood family, read down below if you want an overview of the current households.

Ultimate Decades Challenge ⭐ Navigation ⭐

by Generation

Generation 0 - Willam & Eva Norwood | day 1 |

Generation 1 - Finnian & Emma Norwood | day 1 |

Generation 2 - Daniel Norwood | day 1 |

by Year

1300 | day 1 | recap 1300 - 1305 | recap 1305 - 1310 |

1310 | day 1 | recap 1310 - 1315 | recap 1315 - 1320 |

1320 | day 1 |

‼️ TRIGGER WARNING ‼️ death / death in childbirth / general loss of life / war / bodies / violence / blood / rape / abortion / depression / anxiety / underaged marriage

quick info - my last ultimate decades challenge [Atwood legacy up until year 1349] is now 'private', you won't see those posts here anymore just to make tagging/searching easier. Also remade the masterpost!

Also, here's some other stuff I post.

Superextended Not-So-Berry Challenge

Rags to Riches / Jill's Life in Henford-on-Bagley [ ‼️ NEW ‼️ ]

reblogs & reposts [my own and other peoples cc, some random challenges]]

If you're interested, please read the rules in this document

Just a qick note on the rules of the challenge. After every completed life stage, you have to roll a d20 to see if your sims survives to the next stage. It seems the d20 hates my guts, so my current family is living in misery. Take this as a trigger warning, there are a LOT of deaths in this playthrough! I'm trying to integrate them into my storytelling.

Also please remember that this is a game and so it's not historically accurate. I try my best to integrate real history, but sometimes it just falls short.

Down below you will find a few notes on what rules I changed to fit my playstyle as well as my current households (I will try to update them according to the posts). If you're interested in trying this youself I would love to follow you, because I really enjoy reading about the stories other players create with this challenge. If you want to follow my story, please use the archive to navigate the different decades.

I play most of the rules exactly as they're set with a few exceptions:

The sidehouseholds are also not allowed to "Try for baby". I use the same pregnancy percentage for them, too, but since generation 3 I changed the way the "baby tries" work since I rolled some really low numbers. Each conceived child now counts as a "try".

If a sim remarries after their spouse dies, the baby tries are not reset.

I don't roll for marriage for my side households when they age up to a teen but when they age up to a child. This is also for storytelling as I tend to work towards their adulthood and interests when they're still children.

I do age up / event rolls on the start of each year just to work towards them in the story.

I may only plead for a sim ONCE in their lifetime. For infants / babies I allow myself ONE reroll per generation.

This list may change and/or expand in the future.

My current households:

Daniel Norwood - Founder Generation 2

Annabeth Norwood - Wife of Daniel

Ian Norwood - Son of Finnian & Emma

Evan Norwood - Son of William and Eva, remarried

Valeria Norwood - Second wife of Evan

Flora Norwood - Daughter of Evan & Rayla

Ida Norwood - Daughter of Evan & Rayla

Anna Norwood - Daughter of Evan & Valeria

Leah McCairn - Daughter of Jayden & Tara, orphan

Elaine McCairn, Daughter of Lea McCairn & Leonard Dayle [affair]

Richard McCairn - Son of Jayden & Tara, orphan

William McCairn - Son of Jayden & Tara, orphan

You can refer to my spreadsheet to see relations, but HEAVY spoiler warnings for the story! I use it to keep track of my story and I queue up A LOT of posts so there's stuff that you probably won't know about here.

SPREADSHEET - SIMS INFO

I use all the spreadsheets morbid gamer provided for the challenge with some minor changes.

Also, with once again HEAVY SPOILER WARNINGS you can find the family tree I update whenever I play here:

FAMILY TREE

Thank you all for reading, thank you for your responses and have fun with my ultimate decades story!

[oddities-collection]

Let’s see if I regret this. TW fatphobia chat.

I figured out why buff Kirsten makes me feel sad and it really has nothing to do with the choice itself. It really comes down to two things. 1) I now feel like I can’t relate to this character personally or publicly and 2) there is very few fat characters in D20.

Both of these things are really not Kirsten specific, they are connected to the wider issue of fatness being seen as inherently cringe/fully forgotten. To keep point one short. I am fat and I like to cosplay, it’s hard out here. I know now I’ll never post my Kirsten cosplay even though it was really well received at my local con cus I feel like I’ll be seen as the before picture in Kirsten’s weight loss journey. There is like a lot more here I could say about cosplay and the sexualized of fat fems while seeing any fatness as inherently cringe and no fandom is immune, let me know if you ever want me to go off.

This is the important bit to me!

If I had a nickel for every fat PC in d20 ID HAVE 2 NICKELS AND THAT IS NOT ENOUGH. 💕Sam Black💕 and Anastasia Tension, both played by Danielle Radford my beloved. One person and one mental concept. (I am not counting mice and murder characters cus for real guys that’s a pig and a raccoon, think about it.) I have so many friends who watch D20 and not one noticed this and I’ve never heard someone else say this. Like it sucks but oh well ya know I’m not gonna send an email or anything it just makes it really hard to trust them with any subplot around fitness and the bodies connection to self worth. I keep on feeling the fear in the back of my neck when it comes but cus even if it’s a joke they play fitness as a moralistic choice. I saw myself in Kirsten a lot but if she sees fitness that way I I juts can’t any more. That is not inherently bad I don’t have any ownership they don’t owe me anything, but it dose make me sad.

Just your reminder, there should be fat high schoolers in media, there are fat high schoolers in life.