#1DX

[coffeenuts]

[robmoses1]

Deer in the Street Lights

I was out trying to get some city shots last night and then these deer just started walking down the street I was on. I tried getting a shot of another deer but he was hanging around a dark part of the street. Then I saw this other deer wandering over and he stopped to eat some grass right under the street light. I walked a little closer to him and I shot a few photos of him eating. I thought it…

[f-rg-tmigej]

"The world seems to be in a rush but i choose to remain still"

[erock-b]

Games in black & white

[househuntingscotland]

2 bedroom flat for sale on Bathgate Street, Dennistoun, Glasgow

Asking price: £159,950

Sold price: £185,500

[p0orbaby]

Double Exposure

sunmary: you want to go topless, alexia isn’t too pleased

warnings: mentions of smut, some vulgar language

a/n: okay a bit of context; rich!alexia inspired by that pic she posted looking hot all in black. reader was her sugar baby before things got serious and they fell in love. sugar baby = bad for image so reader was kept secret up until now. this is their honeymoon. *and breathe*

word count: 2.2k

-

“You’re not seriously going out there like that?”

Her words flat. Almost bored. Which is rich, coming from a woman who—barely ten minutes ago—was on her knees between your legs, growling into your cunt like it owed her rent and a written apology. Her voice now is the exact opposite of how it sounded then: cool, clipped, almost affronted. Like you’ve just told her you prefer supermarket olive oil. Like she doesn’t still have your taste on her mouth, drying into the fine creases of her lips, sunk into the seam where her teeth pressed down too hard on your inner thigh. Like her face wasn’t, moments ago, framed by your knees.

There’s a bruise on your hip in the exact shape of her thumb, planted like a signature. Another on the inside of your arm—darker, more controlled. Intentional. Just about composed, like something framed and hung under a spotlight. Your ribs ache faintly from where her elbows braced, sharp and functional, digging in as if she was preparing to split you apart. You haven’t seen your reflection yet, but you don’t need to. You already know what you must look like: mouth swollen and slightly parted, ribs flushed with heat, nipples still tight from her teeth and the blast of the air conditioning you forgot to turn off. Hair tangled, skin glistening at the hollows. The kind of wreckage that suggests not just sex, but possession.

You wonder what someone might assume if they saw you now. Not what, but who.

As in—Who did this to her?

As in—Who owns her like that?

The answer, of course, is already stepping barefoot onto the polished teak.

Her presence is enormous—not in volume, but in precision. In density. She radiates this sense of curation, of something not just expensive but worth owning. She moves like something honed to a point. She exists the way a Cartier Crash watch does: violently elegant, disturbing in its fluid asymmetry, confusing in its intention but undeniable in value. She is the kind of woman who doesn’t tell the time; she is the time. You once asked her for it, just to see what she’d do. She didn’t answer. Just turned your chin with her knuckle and kissed you hard enough to erase the question mid-sentence.

“I’m warm,” you say.

Which, in your shared language, means: Don’t tell me what to do.

Which also means: I want to see if you’ll still claim me in public after I deliberately ignore you.

Which, if you’re being honest, means: I’m still hungry. Even now. Even after that.

She says nothing.

You can feel her looking at you—feel her stare like fingers, counting every inch, every blemish, every trace she’s left behind. You wonder what part of you she starts with: the notched line of your spine, still red where her nails dug in; the subtle knot at the base of your shoulder from how she’d gripped it, too tight and too long; the soft under-curve of your breast now exposed to an entire sea that doesn’t give a single fuck. A sea that couldn’t care less whether you’re clothed, naked, adored or completely destroyed.

You imagine a lens somewhere. A long one. A telephoto. Some French man called Henri crouched in a small dinghy, cradling a Canon 1DX with a greasy finger and a questionable sense of ethics. You picture the headline already drafted in someone’s inbox: PUTELLAS’ MYSTERY WIFE BARES ALL OFF THE COAST OF CORSICA.

In all-caps, of course. They always use all-caps when a woman’s tits are involved.

You smile.

She walks over now, slow and certain. Picks up your discarded bikini top from the side of the lounger. Holds it between two fingers like it offends her on a structural level.

“This is literally a shoelace,” she says.

“It’s Prada.”

“It’s two triangles of fabric and the audacity of youth.”

You bought it impulsively the same day she signed the closing papers on the London penthouse, high off real estate and champagne, off her hand on your thigh beneath a linen tablecloth at Scott’s. She’d said it was too revealing, and you’d laughed directly in her face—mostly because she said it while unzipping your dress in the boutique changing room, knuckles grazing the lace you’d worn just for her. You still have the tag, folded neatly into your drawer next to a crumpled Agent Provocateur receipt and the Hermès tissue paper she tore through with zero ceremony. She, meanwhile, keeps everything. You once found an envelope in her office drawer marked in her small, upright script:

Apology Gifts – Receipts (Honeymoon Series).

Inside: three separate invoices from Van Cleef & Arpels. Two dated the same week.

“You’re topless,” she says this time. Not angry. Just too the point. Aware. Like she’s updating you on the weather.

Cloudless sky. Northeasterly breeze. Wife’s tits out.

You reach up, twist your hair into a loose knot. The strands stick slightly, damp with sea mist and the residue of her breath on your neck. Your breasts lift and settle with the motion. You can feel the weight of them shift, the sore prickle of friction where she pulled and twisted and nipped. Her eyes follow the movement, a twitch of hunger barely there in the corner of her mouth.

“I know,” you say, voice neutral. Sweet. Dangerous.

Alexia sighs. Her hand moves through her hair—shorter now, though just enough off to rifle her off split ends. There’s a dent pressed into her hairline from the fabric headband she still wears to play, out of habit more than need. You touch it sometimes in bed, when her back is to you, when her breathing’s heavy but not quite asleep. A thumb against the divot, like a priest touching his rosary.

Her wrists are bare. No jewellery today except for the platinum wedding band you places there twelve days ago, and the thin gold chain at her throat. It holds a Charles X medallion, antique, slightly tarnished. She claims it means nothing. But she wears it every time she signs a deal. Every time she fucks you after one. You’ve seen her in diamonds, emerald-cut and cruel. But nothing sits on her body like that coin.

“There could be press,” she says.

“There could be sharks,” you say. You don’t even look at her. “But that didn’t bother you when you fingered me in sea yesterday.”

You recline against the lounger, the one with the pale linen cover you never sit on dry. Your spine still stings—fibres rubbing into your back while she pinned you there, muttering things too filthy to be translated. The fabric beneath you now is cool, slightly damp from condensation or the aftermath of a very physical forty plus minutes. You cross one ankle over the other, toes flexing idly. The sun toasts your chest. You let it. You want it to tan the shape of her mouth across your breasts.

She doesn’t respond. Not immediately. You know that silence. It means she’s choosing her words, trying not to sound like her mother. Or worse—like the managers, the press officers, the people who shadowed her for years with clipboards and crisis management emails. Alexia never speaks by accident. It’s one of the things that drove you insane when you first met her—this polished, endless restraint. The way she could dress down a boardroom of men, then turn to you and call you mi amor in the same tone.

Like both were contracts. Like both were binding.

Now, she says: “You’re not used to being wanted by people who don’t actually like you.”

And there it is.

It lands like a dare. Like a diagnosis. Like she’s giving you something to chew on, not swallow.

“Is that what this is about?” you say, head tilting. “You think someone’s going to look at me and decide I’m… what? A threat?”

“I think someone’s going to look at you and decide I’m careless,” she says.

You freeze. Not outwardly. Just a beat in your breathing. That’s the thing about her—she never needs to shout. She just drops the knife and waits to see who bleeds first.

Her shadow breaks across your thighs like ink. The sun hits the length of her left leg, slicing down from hip to shin like it’s auditioning for something. She’s all lean geometry and sin. A shape so precise you’d believe it was machine-cut.

You think she might kiss you. You want her not to. Not yet.

She leans in instead, low enough that her voice barely has to travel.

“You’re covered in bruises,” she says, almost admiringly. “I fucked you stupid. You’re wearing nothing but saltwater and lip balm. And you’re sitting here like you’re not my wife, and I didn’t make you like this.”

You swallow. Your throat is dry, like it always gets after she’s done with you—used up and dusted out. Your body throbs in memory. Your cunt still pulses when you shift.

“You did make me like this,” you murmur. Soft. Sincere.

And somewhere in her expression—just for a second—you see it: that twitch of pride she tries not to show. The quiet, sinful satisfaction of ownership.

“Exactly.”

She reaches for your sunglasses—her sunglasses, black Celine with amber lenses and an arm smudged with your thumbprint—and lifts them off your face in one smooth, silent movement. Her fingers graze your cheek, knuckle to jawline, and it’s enough to short-circuit your thoughts. Your brain hums white for a moment. She’s close enough that her breath ghosts across your lips, and you can still smell yourself on her skin—rich, musky, heady, obscene.

She looks at you like she’s weighing options. Like she’s standing in front of a vitrine and trying to decide whether to sell you, pawn you, or buy you back again just to prove she could. There’s a flicker in her eyes, something almost amused. You get the sense she’d fuck you right here on the deck if she thought it would end the conversation.

“You forget this is a game,” she murmurs, voice low and even, like silk slipping through her teeth. “And the thing about games is, someone always plays dirtier than you.”

You blink slowly. Her breath smells like lime and sea salt, fresh and sharp. Her bottom lip is still slightly swollen—faintly bitten, faintly red, with a drying sheen of you along the corner. You imagine licking it off.

“Let them play,” you whisper.

And you mean it. You’re reckless with it. Bare, skin hot and mouth parted, knowing she could undo you again just by slipping her fingers into your bikini bottoms—or worse, pulling them down and walking away.

She smiles, but it’s sharp around the edges. Not cruel, just resigned. As if she already knows how this ends. As if she’s already read tomorrow’s headline and memorised the photo credit.

“You say that now,” she says. “Until they’re in your face asking how much I paid for you. How long you’ve had your tits done. Whether the bruises mean I hit you. Whether I own you or rent you.”

You flinch, but barely. Not from her—never from her. It’s not the words that land. It’s the image of someone else using them. Of a voice you don’t know, speaking in contempt and press passes. Of a cheap hotel room and a slideshow of your body from twenty different angles, taken without permission, captioned without truth.

“I can handle it,” you say, but your voice lacks the usual gloss.

“Can you?” she asks, soft as cashmere. “Because I don’t think you’ve had to yet.”

You want to argue. You want to say you’re not naive. That you’re not a doll or a trophy or some wife-shaped ornament she found at a charity gala and forgot to put down. But the sun is too warm and your skin still buzzes from where she held you down. Your cunt still aches in the best possible way. And deep down, you know she’s right.

You’ve lived wrapped in her world like a pearl in velvet. You’ve been sheltered in her storm—hidden inside her yeses, her private flights, her curated little ecosystem where nothing touches you unless she allows it.

“I like the sun,” you say.

It’s not a counterpoint. It’s not even an argument. Just a truth. You like the heat on your skin. You like being watched. You like the idea that someone, somewhere, might see what she’s done to you and ache with the knowledge that it wasn’t them.

She nods. Stands. Her shadow slips away like an expensive afterthought.

“I’ll talk to Marc,” she says. “Have him revoke the crew’s electronics permissions.”

And then she’s gone. Back into the cool interior, where everything is silent and beige and expensive and untouched. Where the floors don’t creak. Where the cameras can’t follow. Where her phone is probably already ringing and her assistant is already listening.

You stay.

The sea is stupidly blue. Aggressively blue. The kind of rich that makes you feel poor just looking at it. Your nipples are tight. Your skin smells like sweat and sex and suncream. Your pulse is low and steady, like a cat in a warm window. Your lips still taste faintly of her—salt and spit and something deeper.

You don’t know where the camera is. But you’re certain there is one.

You sit perfectly still. Posed. Cinematic. The image already forming in the lens:

Topless. Ruined. Glowing. Defiant.

The kind of wife who knows exactly what she’s risking.

And exactly how good it looks when she does.

[galilleon]

Hey all, This is my first Tumblr post ever! I'm pretty new here, but I'm hoping to share some DM techniques, tools and tips and to make some new friends as well! Feel free to send a chat request (an ask[?]) if you're interested!

With that aside, on with the post!

Better and More Meaningful Random Encounters!

Random encounters are a staple of DnD, they are expected to be there during exploration as a way to make the world feel alive, to have it have an aura of adventure and danger, to eat up party resources and put pressure on the PCs to make interesting and important choices, and also as a way for a DM to reasonably 'stall' the party with a quick and easy situation.

Usually, it ends up something like this:

There's just one problem with most random encounter tables though, it's so easy for them to be GOSHDARN BORING! Especially for a newer DM.

Making them interesting becomes gambled improv on the DM's part if they're not used to it, and it's hard to keep track of the important factors that need to be kept in mind

Luckily, I ended up finding a great source for random encounters from 'Dungeon Masterpiece' on YouTube, and I integrated it into my own DMing. I figured that I'd share it here for any that want to work it into their own sessions as well!

After adjustment, a single table can account for multiple entire sessions of in-depth worldbuilding and fun without getting dull!

Sources:

Source 1 (Creating interesting Random Encounter Tables):

Source 2 (Making Random Encounters reflect your Worldbuilding):

There's 4 major methods we can use to improve the Random Encounter table

1. Make the table a straight 1dx roll.

2. Adding 'depth'.

3. Adding meaningful encounters.

4. Prerolling and/or Multirolling.

You can also check out the "Where to Start?" section for some direction to make getting it down and prepped all easy peasy!

1. Straight Roll:

Its enticing to go for 2d6 or the such in order to add non-linearity to the rolls, but these sorts of adjustments only end up making one or two encounters extremely likely and leave all others in the dust, it often ends up defeating it's own purpose of interesting randomness.

In the previous example, it was extremely likely to only get Wolves, Barbarians, Orcs, or Spiders, from a table of 12! A straight roll would serve us much better. The rare rolls are already rare enough as is!

Simply enough, adjusting the original example by replacing the 2d6 with 1d12, it'd become something more like this:

#2. Adding Depth:

We can add more columns in the encounter tables. These columns will represent different aspects about the encounters that we can roll on separately!

Usually it can be difficult as a DM to naturally come up with motives for the encounters, showcase the worldbuilding and have it all come together.

This setup can give you a solid guideline on how the creatures/people think (if any), and also sets up the overall area so that you get an idea of what events tend to occur there as a result of its occupants. 

We want to add 3 more columns to the tables to convey different aspects of the encounter. Fill in these new columns corresponding to the expectations of each encounter.

We'll roll each of these and combine them, then we'll interpret them to make a robust, in-depth random encounter with truly unexpected results!

I recommend rolling alot of complete encounters at once and interpreting the context to the vast general area the party is travelling in.

i. Behaviour: How the creatures act. Are they friendly, scared, aggressive, curious, mischievous?

ii. Complication: Something behind the scenes in the encounter. Do they have sick young? Broken equipment? Are they starving?

iii. Significant Impact: This is a tick box, and will only be present under ONE of the rows. It will be rolled like the other columns, but ONLY once. It signifies which encounter is the Significant Encounter

The Significant Encounter will have its encounter's presence prominent amongst all the other random encounters in the area. There could be burn marks and carcasses from a rampant dragon, or a goblin raid leaving tracks moving through the area. Which is the most impactful of the different encounters?

Adding this to our previous example would expand it to:

Rolling this would give us things like:

Significant encounter: Owlbears

Note that the significant impact shows that the Owlbears are a massive problem in the area. Perhaps the Owlbears are agitated for an unknown reason, and are unnecessarily aggressive.

The significance of Owlbears gives us context to the second one as well! Perhaps the hunters raided an Owlbear den, and adopted an Owlbear cub from there as well.

There could be uneaten carcasses, ravaged trees, less wildlife, etc around these parts.

Note how much sheer CONTEXT these columns add to our encounters. It's invaluable!

3. Adding Meaningful Encounters

Usually random encounters tend to be rather mundane and very one-note.

There's usually some general wildlife and monsters, different disparate factions without any rhyme or reason, and maybe a general non-combat encounter or two, but these don't really tell us about the area or its surroundings at all by themselves.

Instead, we can add in wildlife and monster encounters specific to the biome, non-combat encounters, and encounters of nearby factions and/or settlements to the table, and we can even add environmental encounters in there as well.

Note that we're not tied down to 12 encounters, and can expand it ad infinitum according to our need of diversity in our encounters.

Just add in specification and connection, and suddenly the dominos all fall into place.

Lastly, we'll also be adding in 'DOUBLE TIME' which will let us roll on everything twice, and make it so it's a double encounter!

Thus, the table can instead be adjusted to:

Note how each and everything has its relation in one way or another, but through the sheer variance, they remain truly random and novel.

4. Prerolling and/or Multirolling

Lastly and this is just something that I do, but that I found gamechanging. Be sure to pre-roll 5-7 encounters for each session, for the general area the players are going to be headed in.

Note that you don't need to really prep anything at all, just interpret all of them on a surface level as a buffer.

Also note that you don't need to use all of them if they're not needed. The foreshadowing and signs are worldbuilding and having secrets that the players don't unravel is just as useful as the ones that they do, perhaps even moreso. It adds depth and detail beyond the scope of what the party will encounter

It simply let's you get an idea of the connections between encounters, allows for foreshadowing, and acts as a deterrent to getting caught off guard.

Even if you roll mid-session, I recommend calling for a 5 minute break, rolling 5-7 encounters at the same time and interpreting them and their connections before resuming the session.

It WILL make a difference, trust me

Where to start?

It can be difficult getting inspiration or direction to get started in creating these random encounters, and sometimes you don't want to go through the hassle of thinking them up from nothing

For some great conceptual headstarts and examples for these tables, you can check out 'Worlds Without Number' and it's:

- Page 205 (Great general templates for encounters differentiated by broad creature types such as Beasts and Monsters, Sapient Monsters, and Humans)

- Pages 206-219 (For inspired locations to occasionally run rare encounters or groups of encounters in. This works best with flexible/discovered worldbuilding given the significance of some of these, and you also want to add these in sparingly to keep them significant)

- Pages 246-247 (These pages have great templates for the kinds of encounters and situation to be included in the tables, and it can be expanded vastly, and certain options can be selectively and repeatedly chosen to meet our needs. Mood works well as a complication.)

There might be other pages that are useful as well for these sorts of random encounters in the wilderness that I haven't come across yet. If so, give them a shout out and I'll be sure to add them in. It's worth checking it out in its entirety for some great tips!

Conclusion

Again, credit goes to Dungeon Masterpiece and Worlds Without Number for excellent adjustments. This has been quite long, but I hope you stuck around till the end.

Many a session have been made easy but complex ever since this was introduced and I hope that this helps you out as much as it helped me in my prep and improv!

Feel free to give any advice in formatting on Tumblr, or any feedback on the post itself. It really means a lot to me, thanks!

[bad-quail]

An Idea for Hexcrawl Random Encounters

Borrow a page from depthcrawl procedures and have your encounter table be 1dX+Y where X is the size of the die you want to use and Y is your "depth", measured as distance in hexes from a central "safe" hex. The higher the encounter roll result, the more dangerous or weirder the encounter. So, you can get the feel of the world becoming more and more dangerous the farther from town you get.

[coffeenuts]

[robmoses1]

Curry 11 'Future Curry'

If you follow me on Instagram you likely already know I’ve been getting some gear from Under Armour & Curry Brand. If you don’t, well there ya go haha. FYI here I am on IG instagram.com/robmoses 😉 Anyhow, Curry Brand sent me these Curry 11 basketball shoes to try out. It just so happens that right at this moment my younger son Cameron wears the same shoe size as me. Since he’s playing club…

[f-rg-tmigej]

"-I'm the king of the world!"

[sharkrad08222222]

GLOG CLASS-PLAGUE DOCTOR

Stating equipment: plague doctor mask, big hat,anti plague robes,Med Kit(3 charges)

Starting skill:1 Quatrinetine  2 Digaononse 3.Herbology

A Suppress Disease ,wound dresser B invigorating Vapors, Transfusion of life C Unbalance humors, Bloodletting D Confer Immunity , Grafting

Gain +1 on saves against poison and illness each template you own.

A:Suppress Disease and Poison 

Spend a Med kit Charge to Temporarily suppress the effects of a Poison or Disease for a Day.

A:Wound dresser 

Remove a Fatal wound without rolling. You can spend a Turn to whip up a mini Field hospital that will add a +1dX  to any healing done to the whole party during down Time, at the cost of one Med Kit Charge. 

B:Invigorating Vapors 

Spend a Med Kit charge to give someone a +1dX to their next attack's damage.  

B:Transfusion of life

You can transfer a number of hp equal to half of cha to another party member. How you do it is up to you, Blood Transfusion, Bile stuff, Blunt rotation, ETC

This does not revive dead party members 

C:Unbalance humor 

Via spending a Med Kit Charge, deal 1dX damage, and cause an Condition of you Choice(stun, Blinded,posioned maybe), the target still get a save for the condition

C:Remove the Bad blood(Reflavor as you see fit)

Using leeches, a sharp blade, or some other blood letting apparatus you can have them remove a single illness or poison.

It takes 3 turns to pull off, and inflicts 2d8 damage.

D:Transfer Illness

Once per day , tell an illness to leave a body, but you have to put it into a new body. To put into an unwilling Target , it would be a test of Con against the Plague doctors Cha. Can use your own body for this.

D:Grafting With a Med Kit charge you can Graft a different creature's limb to someone with a Missing Limb. Giving it a non Humanoid limb(A spider leg instead of a human leg) They gain a Muntion related to it. 

Med Kits

Improvised Cost 5cp per charge, but could be made in the feild +1d4 healing Crafted form Forged Herbs, Improvised bandages, and whatever else seems useful Common Cost 5 sliver piece Per Charge, but could be made in town for cheaper +1d6 Healing Crafted in a city with access to good(for Medieval and Fantasy standards) Medical supplies Rare Cost 5gp Per Charge, good luck making it. +1d8 healing The top of the line medical supplies

[postsofbabel]

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P—::d+1H`l3J?Uj;`!oK–z|:Q<75|F1a7*J].sp]]%—J1cMuP[pM6E?~JA-*1+0–zMg_}mq

[m-mossed]

وظائف عسير اليوم براتب 5500 ريال

وظائف عسير اليوم براتب 5500 ريال

https://wp.me/pfJoWR-1DX

[rainsofcastamererpg]

Hola, quería preguntar como serán los combates, si irán con dados o si se dispondrá de una tienda del foro.

¡Valar Morghulis, Anon! Efectivamente, el Sistema de Combate está compuesto por dados numéricos específicos (1DX) que deberéis tener en cuenta a la hora del cálculo del daño. También dispondréis de objetos en la Tienda del Foro, desde protecciones hasta armas, que servirán como modificadores que subirán vuestras estadísticas. También es de tener en cuenta los Talentos pues existirán unos enfocados en el combate que sumarán ventajas. También, y para hacerlo más visual, dispondremos de una Tablilla de Combate donde deberéis rellenar vuestros datos e iréis actualizando durante el combate, es de uso fácil. Como pildorita del Sistema de Combate, te adjuntamos cómo se verá la tablilla que mencionamos

[shamsabaddai-ardn631]

Photographed By Jonathan Bachman in New Orleans during the Black Lives Matter Movement

To follow on from Jonathan Klein's Ted Talk. Here's another image that comes to my mind.

Incase you were curious about his tools- he used a Canon 1Dx, with a 16-35mm, f/2.8L. But we all know it wasn't the tools that made this image. It represents power, strength, adversity, and peaceful protest. It also transcends the environment it's in, because it doesn't just apply to the Black Lives Matter Movement, it can represent a moment in your life, or reflect an aspect of your story and resonate on a whole personal level as well.