#its. you know. the one about dice rolling

[a99jazzybean]

HIIIII! I just binge read your date everything fics and I love them! May i ask for yet another Chance fic, where y/n is familiar with g&g and used to play with their friends from time to time - using his dice of course! And... y/n used to kiss the piece for the "lucky shot", doesn't matter if it worked or not. So now, with Skylars help, y/n can speak with him and even play a session or two and it is so much fun! But she is completely oblivious to the fact that he remembers every time y/ns lips touched his dice-y form and each time he silently yearns for her lips to touch him once again... The rest is up to you, lots of love!

I love this prompt so much! Thank you for the request!

With a Taste of Your Lips...

synop: You and Chance decide to play another session of G&G. Little do you know, a special tradition of yours has him feeling all sorts of hot and bothered. i.e. You discover Chance can feel when you kiss his die.

words: 4.7K

includes: chancexfem!reader, ttrpg playing, making out, fondling an object?, cumming untouched kinda, smut

a/n: I might make a part 2 to this one, thoughts? Also, its got smut. No minors!

“You feel yourself growing weaker. The spell the lich cast on you drains your life force. All of your comrades are downed. You are their final hope.” Your GM stares you down, brow raised. “What would you like to do?”

Looking around the table you see all of your friends' faces are grim. All eyes are on you. Taking a look at the battlemap before you, your eyes widened. 

“Past the cliff, it’s the Abysmal Pit, correct?” You asked the GM. 

“Correct.”

“And anyone who falls in is erased from existence, right?

“Correct.”

“No!” Sam shouted. “I know what you’re thinking. You can’t do it!”

You give her a solemn look, eyes filled with sadness. 

“I’m sorry.” You pick up your red D20. “But you can’t stop me. I’m going for a grapple on the lich, then I’m dragging him over the edge with me.” 

A chorus of gasps erupts from your party members. Some are getting teary-eyed. 

Two years of a campaign filled with adventure, friendship, romance, and tears. This is how it ends. Perhaps it was destined to be. 

“Make your roll.” Your GM feels tears prick in their own eyes. Not knowing whether they want you to succeed on this or not. 

As is tradition on major rolls, you bring your trusty die to your lips. Pecking it softly, you pray that this works. 

“Lucky shot,” you hear Sam say under their breath. 

Cupping the die in your hands, you give a good shake. Then you release it onto the table. Everyone in the room is holding their breath as it rolls. Finally, it stops. Natural 20. 

Normally, the table would erupt with cheers. This time, it wasn’t proper to celebrate. 

“Prim,” your GM took in a shaky breath as he spoke your character’s name. Trying to hold back tears. “You muster up the final dregs of strength within you. Pulling yourself up with a groan. Everything hurts, but your mind has been made up. Pushing through it all, you start to run. Taking one final look at your fallen teammates. This is the last time you will see them. Tell me how this ends.” Their voice wavered. 

“As I run toward the lich, I let out a final ‘goodbye’. I grab it around the waist, then throw both of us off of the ledge. No matter what it does I keep ahold of it. It’s coming with me.” Your own eyes fill with tears. 

“As you fall, the lich tries to get you off of it, but to no avail. For a brief moment you can see a flash of its past humanity. Fear filling its face as it realizes the one thing that it tried to run from has finally arrived. Death in the shape of a half-elf rogue who risked it all to defeat it.”

Chance sighed dreamily, remembering your great sacrifice. Seemed like you frequently played characters that laid their life on the line. No wonder he was absolutely smitten.

While you weren’t able to see his personified form at the moment, he was able to see you. Back hunched over as you typed on Mac. The computer feeling pretty good about themselves as you cranked out your latest self-insert fanfic. What else were you supposed to do when an AI took over your job? 

Chance wasn’t able to see what you were writing, but could see Mac occasionally blush and chuckle at the words you were typing onto them. 

“Care to share?” He asked the computer. 

Mac glanced over at him, then back to one of the screens in front of them. 

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. She’s kind of mortified that I’ve even read this stuff.” Mac turned back to read what you had just typed out, red blooming on their face. “Yeah, no. You don’t need to know about this.” 

Chance grumbled to himself. It didn’t feel fair that Mac got to see the sexiest innermost thoughts of yours. Actually, he was kind of jealous of many of your objects. Betty slept with you every night, witnessing the limited sexual exploits of yours. Johnny, he wouldn’t talk about it, too much of a gentleman. But the massage setting on his shower head? He might have alluded to activities you had accomplished with that. 

It was frustrating to say the least. Seeing how much better the other beings in the home got to know you intimately. All Chance wanted was a taste of that knowledge. 

He hoped you’d put your Dateviators back on again. Now that you had been able to see him, all he wanted was your attention. It didn’t help that you enthusiastically offered to play G&G with him. Only feeding into the ever-growing obsession with you. 

It didn’t start when you put those glasses on, no. It started when you came up with that damned tradition. Kissing the 20 side of his die body. You didn’t know, couldn’t know, really. But he felt it, every single time. It was special, something you only did when making a major roll. And you always picked him. Your “lucky shot” for your “lucky die”. 

The thing was, you hadn’t ended that tradition. When you began playing with Chance, you continued to make your lucky shots. Not realizing that although the personified version was sitting in front of you, Chance was still very much connected to the object he was. He would have you roll on something difficult, and as if it were instinct, you pressed your soft lips right on the20 side. Thankfully, Chance had been able to maintain his composure as you watched the die roll. However, it was beginning to become too much. 

Each press of your lips to the die had him falling for you harder and harder. 

With a sigh, you pushed away from your computer. Eyeing the die beside you with a smirk. Tapping on the desk, your gaze flitted over to your glasses. It had been a few hours since you had them on, couldn’t hurt to say hi to your office. And there might have been a specific object that held your affections.

“You know. I can feel you looking at me, right?” You teased the die before putting on the Dateviators. 

Chance’s face was ruddy when you looked at him, caught red handed. Rubbing his neck sheepishly, he gave you an apologetic look.

“What can I say? You’re nice to look at.” 

Now it was your turn to blush. The damned man always seemed to fluster you in such innocuous ways. Somehow always polite with his flirting. 

There were times he could be fairly forward, but he never pushed. It was sweet. 

Thinking about it, you could go for something sweet now. But nothing that was consumable. 

“Do you have a session prepped?” You asked.

Immediately, he perked up. A bright smile on his face complimented by an enthused flush. 

“Of course! Ever since you’ve come along, I’m like ten sessions ahead!” He leaned toward you, bouncing on his toes. 

“I’m glad that you’ve been so inspired. I love your stories.” You gave him a soft smile. 

His eyes widen, practically sparkling at your words.

“Y-you love my stories?” He held his hand to his heart, feeling the muscle pump faster at your compliment.

“Why do you think I want to play with you so often?” You pulled his die over with a finger, rolling it around. “I have a lot of fun with you.” 

“We could have more fun.” He raised a brow suggestively, looking over his glasses at you.

Red in the face, you waved him off with a giggle.

“Do you have time to play now?”

“I always have time for you.” 

You were sure you heard Timothy scoff somewhere in the distance. That was no matter though, for now you had the full attention of your favorite die. 

“Shall we play, then?” 

Chance nodded enthusiastically, then proceeded to get his GM station set up. When his screen and notes were all in place, he gave an approved nod. Looking up, he beamed at you again. Feeling his heart squeeze at the content smile on your face as you sat on the other end of the table from him. Oh how he wished to always keep you happy. He would play forever with you just to make sure that smile never fell from your lips. 

“Alright, where did we leave off?” He glanced over his notes.

“I managed to talk myself out of being eaten by a giant.” You had your own notes pulled out. 

Chance felt his heart swell again. You took notes! Oh, you truly were the perfect player. 

“That’s right! My charismatic girl!” He chuckled as your face grew red. 

He was glad that he managed to make you as flustered as you made him. Equal opportunity flirting to make the other squirm. Again, perfect. 

“You’ve gotten away from the giant, but you still have yet to find the gilded egg laying hen.” 

“Thankfully, you have quite the wise girl as well!” You let out a satisfied huff. “Can I make a perception check to see where the chicken is?” 

“You may.” He motioned for you to continue.

Shaking the die in your hands you urged it to roll well. 

“C’mon D20, show me what you’re made of!” 

You released the die, it clattered into your dice tray. After a moment of circling, it landed on a 16. 

“Nice! And that’s a plus four to my perception!” 

“Wonderful!” He cleared his throat, continuing his tale. “As you look around the foyer of the giant’s castle, you aren’t finding any indications of where a hen might be roosting. However, after a moment of hearing silence, there’s a new sound filtering down the hallway to the north.”

“What’s the sound?” You ask with a knowing smirk.

“It’s soft harp music, almost dreamlike.” 

After your previous character died valiantly saving a village from a dragon, Chance asked if you would mind experimenting with a fairytale themed game. Of course, you agreed, excited to see what he would come up with. While some of the quests you have been on so far were a bit predictable, he had many twists and turns added in. 

Like Cinderella’s slipper turning out to be a baby mimic. When you had managed to aid the prince in finding his lost love, the mimic revealed itself, chomping down on her foot. However, she didn’t scream. It turned out, Cinderella’s ballgown had already consumed her and was using her head and limbs to blend in. The fairy godmother revealed herself as a demon looking to collect on the souls of the kingdom. All she needed was the prince to disappear so she could take his place. 

It was a lovely twist that ended with a fairly hard battle. Thankfully the prince that accompanied you turned out to be part of the bloodline of very powerful sorcerers, so he was able to aid in the defeat of the fairy godmother. 

The prince tried asking for your hand in marriage, but you had other adventures to go on. Instead, you left with a hefty amount of gold. A token of appreciation for saving the kingdom. The engagement ring hidden amongst the coins didn’t go unnoticed, Chance giving you a cheeky wink when he mentioned it. 

You had noticed the man had been throwing romance options at you throughout each of the fairy tales. Many of them were love stories, sure, but it seemed like he really wanted you to get with someone. Little Red Riding Hood, growing smitten with you after you saved her from the belly of a wolf. A huntsman asking for your hand after you aided him in saving the kingdom from a corrupt king. Snow White practically begged you to marry her after you turned out to be her “true love's kiss”. He was laying it on pretty thick, so to speak.  

Truthfully, the reason why you never accepted was because you wanted Chance to stop hiding his affections behind characters in your game. The two of you had constant flirty banter, but it felt like he could only speak through innuendo when hinting at wanting anything more. While it was endearing, it was starting to become tiring. 

Though admittedly, you were a coward too. It would be hypocritical to judge the man considering you couldn’t muster up the courage to do anything either. Instead, you sat in a flirtatious purgatory. Something that could be viewed as a comfortable platonic relationship, but in reality had very, very heavy overtones of desire. 

Neither you or Chance could be subtle. There were times where you could feel the hunger in his eyes as he ran your game. Usually when you did something quite clever. 

That time when you answered his Latin riddle? The man was very glad he had baggy pants on. 

Then there was you. Easily bending to his dominating whims when he was GMing. Something about him having that kind of authority over you often had you clenching your thighs and squirming in your chair. And don’t even get started on the villain monologues. He pulled one of those out, you left the gaming table with your panties soaked. Giving Betty quite the show when you couldn’t get to sleep. 

Back to your current game, Chance asked for your next move.

“I follow the sound of the harp.”

“You feel almost entranced at the music. Your steps pulling you to the north hallway. After about an hour of walking (remember, this is a GIANT’S castle) you made it to the room the music was coming from. Peering inside, you see a giant sitting on a bed. She appears to be much shorter than the one you first encountered, but still clearly a giant. You can tell she is related to the other giant, both sporting the same nose shape. The giant girl is playing the harp, her fingers delicately plucking at the strings. You look across from her and see what you’ve been looking for. A hen nestled in a nest of straw. Its body swaying side to side with the music. Below it you see a peek of gold. What would you like to do?”

“I’m not going to try and hide.”

Chance looked at you with wide eyes, surprised at your blatant move.

“I handled the other giant with my words, I can easily do the same again.”

Oh, he loved your confidence. Your willingness to dive in despite the consequences. He just hoped that it wouldn’t end with your bones ground up to make bread. Quite the horrific way to depart this mortal realm.

“If you say so. You stride inside with confidence. Hyping yourself up from your previous encounter with a giant.” He rolled a die, giving a grimace. “The giant girl doesn’t appear to see you. She’s looking right at the hen, swaying side to side as she continues to play the harp.”

“I try to catch her attention by clearing my throat loudly.” 

“You clear your throat, and she stops playing. A sour look grows on her face as she looks for the source of the sound. Looking down, she finally spots you. Crossing her arms, she gives you a pout.”

“You know, it’s quite rude to interrupt a performance.” Chance put on the voice of a little girl, making you chuckle. “What’s so funny?”

“Chance, you know that wasn’t in-game.” You gave him a stern look. 

“I know, I’m just messin. Anyways… she looks at you, waiting for you to respond.”

“I apologize, your music is lovely.” 

“Then why did you interrupt me?”

“Well, I have some important matters to discuss.”

“Important matters? What’s important is that Bailey gets her proper rest.” Chance returns to his normal voice. “You follow her gaze to the hen in the nest.”

“Is Bailey your hen?” 

“Obviously!” The character voice returned. “And she won’t lay eggs unless I play for her.” 

“I see.” You ponder on that information for a moment, then ask. “Is the harp huge?”

“It’s giant, so is the hen.”

“Didn’t the asshole who hired me say he had been here before? Why send me up if there’s no way to bring the items down?” You huffed in frustration at the quest-giver.

“Who said there wasn’t a way to bring them down?” He clicked his tongue at you, admonishingly.

“Hmmm. I think I'll talk to the girl some more.” He motioned for you to continue. “I’m sure Bailey loves your music.”

“She does, she always lays an egg when I play! My daddy says I’m gettin just as good as my mama!” Chance goes back to narrating. “After she says that she goes quiet. Her eyes widening as if she’s just realized you were here. There’s a darkness in them that surprises you for a girl so young.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” You bit your lip nervously.

“You’re a human. Humans aren’t allowed here!”

“Um, you’re dad let me go. At least I think it was your dad.” You give Chance a nervous glance.

“Roll on persuasion.”

Shaking the dice, you let it drop. Watching in fear as it lands on a three. Chance’s gaze grows dark.

“You only think you know? How can I know if you’re telling the truth?” Chance narrates again. “The giant girl stands up, towering high over you. A glare on her face as her eyes narrow. But you spot something odd, her eyes are watering.” The little girl voice is put back on. “All humans lie! I bet you’re no different!”

“I decide to stay quiet, letting her speak.” You say to Chance. Again, he’s surprised at your action.

“Your people killed my mom!” He switches back to normal. “You now see tears falling from her eyes. She’s going to reach for you.” He rolls a die, eyeing you expectantly. “Would you like to do anything to stop it?”

“No. I let her.” 

“A large hand grabs you with a crushing squeeze. You feel the air forced out of your body by the strong grip of her hand. She lifts you to her head.” He clears his throat, going back to the girl voice. “I should just eat you, show you how it feels.” He gives you another expectant look. “Are you going to try and do anything?”

“Nope. I’m gonna close my eyes and accept my fate.” 

Impressed, Chance sits back with his arms crossed. Pondering on what to do next. While you had managed to talk your way out of the last giant encounter, he thought you would at least try to fight your way out of this one. The giant child’s stat block was something that you could manage on your own. 

“Okay. I want you to roll persuasion, and I’ll be nice and give you advantage for what you’ve managed to do so far.”

Pumping your fist in the air, you reached for the die. This time, you brought the D20 to your lips, giving it a light peck. This was a roll that was gonna need it. 

“C’mon lucky shot, don’t let me down now.” 

The first roll landed on a 6. Again, you brought the die to your lips. The kiss to the dice slightly lingering, just for good luck. You shook it in your hand and released, crossing your fingers for a good roll. Slowly, it spun to land on a 20.

“Nat 20 babee! Let’s gooooo!” You stood up and cheered, your character saved.

Chance remained seated, face beet red. His breathing had become labored. For some reason, he couldn’t get himself to calm down. Maybe it was the fact that you had kissed the die in succession. Something he could feel burning through his body. 

Coming down from your high, you realized Chance hadn’t continued. Turning, you gave him a concerned look. Walking over, you eyed the state he was in. Face still extremely flushed. 

“Are you okay?” You leaned toward him, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“I-I’m fine. We can continue!” He rubbed his neck nervously.

“Are you sure? Your face is really red.”

“What did you expect after kissing me like that!” He clamped his hands over his mouth, face turning another shade darker. 

“What? I didn’t kiss…” You looked over to the die, feeling a heat crawl up your neck. “C-can you feel that?”

Hands still over his mouth, he nodded. You realized you had been performing your luck ritual the entire time you had been playing with Chance. He could feel it. Every. Single. Time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You felt terrible, doing that to him without asking.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He said softly.

“But then I kept making you uncomfortable! Kissing you without your consent, ugh. I’m so sorry, Chance.” You gave him a sad look that pierced his heart. That wasn’t what he meant at all!

“I never said I was uncomfortable.” He composed himself somewhat.

“Huh?” 

“I might have liked it…” He trailed quietly. 

“What was that?” You couldn’t make out what he said.

“I like it!” He blurted. “I really like it when you kiss me.” His face grew red again as he waited for your response.

“Y-you do?” 

He nodded sheepishly. 

“Yeah. It feels… nice. Really nice.” He bit his lip nervously. “You’re always so soft and sweet.” 

“Oh.” Your face was burning.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” He gave you an apologetic look. 

“Chance…” This time you were nervous.

“Yes?” 

You leaned down toward his face. Arms planted on the headrest of his chair.

“Can I actually kiss you?”

“I-I mean technically you are ‘actually’ kissing me…” He stuttered out, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips.

You gave him an unamused pout.

“You know what I mean. How’s about this? Can I give you a reciprocated kiss? One that you also participate in?”

“Yes. Please.” 

With that, you pressed your lips to his. Chance froze up at first, eyes wide at the fact that this was happening. Leaning into the kiss, his eyes fluttered shut. You let out a content sigh at the feel of his lips against yours. Soft and plush, perfectly meldable with your own. 

With your tongue, you teased at his bottom lip. Gladly, he slightly opened his mouth for your tongues to intertwine. A low groan left him as he tasted you. So fucking perfect.

The man pushed the chair away from the table, letting you sink onto his lap. Your hand trailed up his neck, fingers lightly scratching at his scalp. He moaned against you at the action. His own hands trailed over your body, mapping out your slopes and curves. Ultimately they landed on your ass, giving it a quick squeeze. You giggled against his lips, pulling away to get a good look at him.

Face still flushed with kiss bitten lips and blown out pupils. He stared up at you like you were a goddess that was granting him a blessing. That was sure how this encounter was feeling. Something that he had only dreamed of. 

“You’re so handsome.” You pressed kisses against his jaw and down his throat, making him shiver. 

“And you’re beautiful. So perfect.” He pressed a kiss to your lips. 

Leaning your forehead against his, you smiled. Then an idea came to you. Biting your lip, you wondered if the man beneath you would oblige to your whims. 

“Chance…���

“Hmm?”

“When I kiss your die, where do you feel it?”

“Oh, um, I guess on my face? Like a whisper against my cheeks and the corner of my lips.” He let out an awkward chuckle. 

You shifted off of him to grab the die, then returned to his lap. Holding the die in front of you, you looked over the numbers.

“So what would happen if I kissed the other numbers?” You asked, gaze hungry.

Oh, oh, this was hot. So fucking hot. Chance thought just kissing you was a dream come true. You wanting more from him? That was merely a fantasy.

“I suppose I would feel you kissing me on other parts of my body.” He answered. Truthfully, he had no idea what would happen. You only ever kissed the 20.

“So if I kiss the one.” You brought the dice to your lips, pecking the side.

Chance giggled at the feeling. Right on the bottom of his foot. 

“I take it that was your foot?”

He nodded, excited to see where this was going. Already feeling himself growing semi-hard in his pants as  he watched you in anticipation.

You pressed a kiss to the five, eyeing Chance’s response. He twitched under you with a whimper. 

“Where was that?”

“My left thigh.” 

Okay, so if five was the left thigh then… you pressed a kiss to the six.

“R-right thigh.” He groaned out. Having your lips on him like this was something else. 

It was probably a good thing you never kissed the other numbers. He was sure you would make him cum from just kissing him alone. 

“So if six is your other thigh then that must mean seven or eight is likely your-”

“What if we avoided that area?” He cut you off, a nervous sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“Why’s that?” You leaned in, giving him a deep kiss.

“I-I just…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“Chance, would me kissing the dice equivalent of your crotch make you cum?” Wow, just right out with it. 

“Y-yeah, yeah. It would. I’m gonna be honest. With the way that you’re already going at it, I’d probably cum just from you kissing me.” 

“Really?” You sat upright, eyes sparkling. 

He nodded, blushing furiously. 

“Could we try it?” You bit your lip. 

The thought of having the man fall apart just from you kissing him had you riled up. You could feel yourself growing wetter at the thought. Seeing him squirm from your kisses before coming undone. Oh, that was very appealing. 

“You want to?” He was surprised.

“Yeah, I do. Only if you want to.” 

“You don’t have to ask twice.” He wrapped a hand around your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Your tongues tangled with each other as you moaned. 

Pulling away, you brought the dice back up to your face. Eyeing the numbers, you decided to go for the 19. You gave it a slow kiss, watching Chance as he shivered and moaned. The feeling reached a sweet spot on his neck that had him keening. He was pretty sure he was addicted to your lips now. 

You continued to press kisses to various numbers. Loving every whimper and moan you managed to get out of the man. Occasionally you would lean back in to give him a proper kiss on the lips, only to return to tease him with the die. 

Chance could tell you were avoiding the seven and eight. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“P-please.” He groaned through gritted teeth as he felt your lips on his chest. “I need you…”

“Need me to what?” You teased with a smirk.

“Kiss the seven and eight. Please.” He begged, squirming beneath you.

“Hmm. Good boy.” Oh fuck. That had his dick throbbing. 

Slowly, you brought the die to your lips. You pecked all over it, then finally pressed a kiss to the seven. Chance cried out at the feeling. Your lips right where he needed them. Feeling them press against his throbbing length. He was sure the next one would be the last he needed. You gave another slow kiss to the eight. It was his undoing. Cock twitching in his pants, releasing a sticky load into his boxers. His hands gripped at your hips as he rutted against the feeling of your lips. 

“Oh f-fuck.” He stuttered out. 

You pressed your lips to his, then kissed all over his face. The man melting into your affection. 

“How was that?” You asked softly.

“Amazing. Perfect. Wonderful. Perfect. Did I mention perfect?” He chuckled.

“I’m glad I could give you that.” You picked up the die again, giving it a peck on the 20. 

“Guess I’ll be keeping my lucky shot tradition for our other games.” You gave him a sweet smile. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Chance pulled you back to him, “did you think playtime was over?”

[starlightwoofwoof]

HEYYYYYY WHATS UUUUPPPPP ITS MEEEEE THE DEVILLLLL /ref

i come to you with a funny little idea.

concept i thought of for Akuma-Toodles :)

so. for a little background. i was reading through a pdf of the D&D 2024 Player's Handbook and came across the Wild Magic Sorcerer subclass, and after staring at it for a little bit i was like "hold on. that could actually do good for like. akumatized toodles."

IF YOU DO NOT KNOW:

how Wild Magic works in D&D is that you roll two D10 (10-sided) dice and look up what the effect is on a table that has a variety of different outcomes based on the number you roll from 1-100 (with one dice counting as the Tens and the other as the Ones)

as you can see here, this pair of D10 dice will add up to a number between 1 and 100 that corresponds to an effect on the Wild Magic table (00 + 0 = 100 iirc)

so basically i was thinking, what if Akuma-Toodles had her own version of Wild Magic? it would just be entirely beneficial to her instead of having the chance to backfire (since the Wild Magic table has some self-affecting negative results lol).

after having her Dog Plush corrupted, the 8ball die in her head transformed into a pair of D10 dice and she can roll a number 1-100 and get a different power for each result!!! (could limit it down to sections of like 1-5, 6-10, 11-15, 16-20, etc so you don't have to come up with 100 unique results... only 50 😅)

(even then, you could keep it to just one D10 die and have only 10 options for superpowers)

and a name i thought of for her is PERCENCHILD

it's a combo of Percentile (another name for D10 dice) and, well, child... cuz that's what she is.

alternatively there's the more obvious option of Lil' Miss Fortune (a pun on misfortune)

but yeah!!! that's a little fun idea i had for her because 8ball has that stuff with probability and dice and her in-game ability is luck-based so i decided to play into that :3

also. the eight symbol on her head should turn into an infinity symbol. that's the only design detail i think should be there. hehe.

OOOOOOO- you know what we’ve got akuma! Toodles now (well, at least a doodle of her, I feel like I haven’t figured out her design completely yet lol)

okay uh I know literally nothing about D&D but I think I understand this Wild Magic concept enough to love it- LOOK AT THE FUNNY LITTLE WIZARD

(can’t really decide if I should give Percenchild a cute little witch hat and have her hood down or if I should just keep it up to give her a more sorceress look …… or maybe she has the hat underneath her hood-)

god everytime I think about cloaked characters I think of that one stupid Kermit meme

AAAA I know I said it before a billion times but I love your ideas so much THIS WAS SO CREATIVE A U G H - I COULD NEVER-

although, I couldn’t imagine what Rodger would think of all this- (well, at least Silver Fox would be there to save her :3)

[way-too-cool-raybot]

Everytime I go to join a fandom whose media is full of amazing women all the posts I see here are of a pathetic and terrible man. Could you at least fixate on the cool guys if nothing else

[iniziare]

Re-tag drop: Yelan

[psychhound]

i love games that play with impossibilities in the mechanics to create mood or storytelling through empty space. roll tables that have numbers too high or too low, dice that don't physically exist. i imagine there's a lot more you could do with it. tarot cards not in any real deck, 42 of spades, dice towers 100 dice tall

i've always been such a fan of blank space in narratives but sometimes the best use of your time really is just to spell it out. here's something you can't have. this is exactly what i want you to think about and know that you won't get, not in this game at least

in my lyric game about werewolves, your 'beast' stat goes up a die size for all the animals watching you, and if you get past a d100 you have to roll using the moon. in my most recent little bookmark game, you take a baby girl (your daughter? someone else's?) and leave her to be raised by humans instead of the fey, like you. it's a simple game. roll a d6 to find out what happens to her when you come back 10 years later. lower numbers are worse outcomes, higher good. pretty simple. the outcome for 6 is pretty good, she knows shes a fey and has some friends who know too, she's even happy to see you, and i couldve left it at that. but it was for the 36 word jam and i had some words left. so i made a 7 where her new parents also know and they still love her. and that just really changes the whole game for me. sometimes its sad and sometimes its less so. but even with your best chance at a good life for her shes never actually going to be loved for who she really is, and you did that to her. it might not be on her mind but its going to be on yours and you know you know you know its out of reach. thats what the whole game is about now, to me. the 7 you can't ever roll

i think the impossible mechanic is definitely something that fits well in a certain genre of game (lyric games or really absurd ones especially) but i wanna see it used more in general. what should the players be aware of the absence of? whats your mechanical haunting of the narrative? if yall have examples or self-promos feel free to drop em

[ferrarifudds]

Hiiiii! i was so obsessed with your lando cooking one but i have another idea kinda where’s its a little similar but reader is his private chef or something ??? Plz i love you’re writing so much 🥰

Stay With Me. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Privatechef!reader

Summary: When he finally musters the courage to talk to his private chef and eventually invite her to stay for dinner.

Word Count: 2.3k

Disclaimer/s: flufffff :3 meet cute ,, ish??? and forced proximity almost (not at all) Just Squint idk

Vera’s Voice! LOVE THIS REQUEST AYYEEE , hope u enjoy!!!! thank u for reading my fics!!! mwaaahhh

Lando never thought he’d end up with a private chef.

The idea sounded unnecessarily extravagant when his management first proposed it. He wasn’t a picky eater, and takeout worked just fine. But after months of rigorous travel, racing every other weekend, and well… his need to somehow always mention the disgusting food pile in his pantry on live streams… his team insisted on the idea.

It wasn’t about luxury, they claimed—it was about nutrition, recovery, and convenience. Lando reluctantly agreed, figuring it would be just another stranger in his house.

And that’s exactly what you were.

The first time you arrived, Lando only caught a glimpse of you—a short, polite nod as you introduced yourself by name.

You didn’t linger. No small talk, no unnecessary pleasantries. You brought bags of fresh groceries, prepared everything with quiet efficiency, and left him with neatly plated meals stored in his fridge.

And this routine went on for weeks.

Lando grew used to hearing the door click open mid-afternoon, a soft shuffle of feet in his kitchen as you unpacked your things.

He kept his distance, a little unsure of how to approach you. You worked so intently that he didn’t want to interrupt, and honestly, he didn’t know what to say.

So, he settled for his usual routine: nodding, mumbling a quick thanks, and letting you go about your work.

But as the weeks passed, he found himself oddly intrigued.

He noticed how precise your movements were—the way you diced vegetables or measured out spices. He caught whiffs of garlic and herbs wafting through the house, making his mouth water.

Once, he saw you pause by the stove to taste a sauce, your face lighting up with the faintest hint of a smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to pique his curiosity.

He wanted to know more about you.

It wasn’t until a quiet Tuesday afternoon that Lando finally mustered the courage to do something about it.

You’d just arrived, placing your bags on the kitchen counter and rolling up your sleeves. Lando was sitting on the couch, his laptop open in front of him, pretending to be preoccupied.

But he wasn’t working.

He was watching you out of the corner of his eye, nervously tapping his fingers against the keyboard.

Finally, he took a deep breath, stood up, and walked over.

“Hey,” He said, voice a little shaky.

You turned, startled. “Oh. Hi.”

Your voice was soft but firm, and your eyes quickly darted back to the chopping board as if you didn’t want to intrude.

Lando scratched the back of his neck, suddenly unsure of himself. “I was, uh, wondering…” He hesitated. “Do you ever get to eat what you make?”

You blinked, genuinely surprised by the question. “Not usually,” You admitted. “I just cook for you.”

“Oh.” He shifted on his feet, feeling a bit awkward. “Well, that doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into the faintest smile. “I don’t mind.”

Lando cleared his throat. “Still, you’ve been cooking for me for weeks, and I don’t even know if you think it tastes good.”

You laughed at that, a quiet, melodic sound that made Lando’s chest feel a little lighter. “I taste as I go. You haven’t complained, so I assumed all was fine.”

“It’s more than fine,” He said quickly, then winced, realizing how eager he sounded. “I mean, it’s really good. Like… amazing.”

“Thank you.” Your cheeks flushed a faint pink, glancing back down at the cutting board to hide your sudden blush.

Lando watched you for a moment, then blurted, “Can I help?”

You froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You want to help?”

“Yeah,” He said, trying to sound casual. “I feel bad just sitting around while you do all the work.”

Your lips twitched, almost as if you were holding back a laugh. “Well that’s technically what I get paid for…so..”

“Well, I don’t mind lending a hand..” He stepped closer.

“Um.. Alright,” You said slowly. “But I don’t think I can trust you near a stove from what your management told me, so how about slicing and dicing?“

“Sounds good.” He flashed a smile, quickly coming to your aid.

And Lando wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to help, but you quickly realized he was hopeless in the kitchen.

He now stood next to you, an apron tied loosely around his waist (as he insisted to feel official), struggling to peel a carrot. His grip was awkward, and the peels kept getting stuck in the blade.

“Like this,” You said, stepping closer and wrapping your hand around his to guide him.

Lando froze at the contact, his pulse quickening. Your hand was warm against his, and for a moment, all he could focus on was the soft scent of your vanilla shampoo and the gentle lilt of your voice as you explained the technique.

“There,” You said, releasing his hand. “Try now.”

He nodded, a little dazed, and attempted to mimic your movements. The carrot peeled more smoothly this time, though not without a few mishaps.

“You’re a pro.” You complimented, earning a wide smile from him as he continued.

Lando watched you, his confidence growing with each little laugh he managed to pull from you.

The atmosphere felt easy now, the awkwardness from before fading into something warmer. He grabbed another carrot and set to work, determined to keep up with you.

As the meal came together, the smells filling the kitchen made his stomach growl audibly.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” He admitted.

You flashed him a smile before you mindlessly tidied around the kitchen, thankfully washing dishes as you cooked. You made sure to plate his food, sliding a portion toward him as usual.

But before you could reach for your bag and finish cleaning up, Lando hesitated, leaning against the counter.

“Wait,” He said suddenly.

You paused, glancing at him. “Hm?”

“Stay with me.” Lando said almost too eagerly, quickly catching himself before stuttering. “Like stay for dinner.”

You felt your eyes widen at the offer, your heart skipping a beat. “Oh, I don’t usually—” Your voice started, but he cut you off, his words tumbling out in a rush.

“I insist.” He smiled before shifting on his feet, suddenly shy. “You’re always here, making these amazing meals, but you never eat them. It feels wrong. Like… you deserve to enjoy this too.”

You hesitated.

The idea of sitting down to dinner with him felt… different. But there was something in the way he looked at you—hopeful, genuine—that made it impossible to say no.

“Um.. Okay,” You said softly, nodding as you set your bag back down.

Lando’s face lit up, and he immediately set about pulling plates from the cabinet, his excitement almost contagious.

And it was… nice.

You sat across from each other at the small dining table, sharing the meal you’d just prepared—a hearty steak, (opposed to the salmon you were incredible at making but you were instructed to never prepare him seafood), roasted vegetables, and a side of creamy mash. It wasn’t anything overly fancy, but it was perfect, and Lando couldn’t stop himself from saying so.

“You’re too kind,” You said, your tone teasing.

“I’m serious!” He insisted. “I don’t know how you make the vegetables taste this good. It’s like magic or something.”

You laughed again, a little less reserved this time. “No magic. Just practice.”

You talked as you ate, the conversation flowing easier than Lando expected. He learned that you’d gone to culinary school, that you loved experimenting with new recipes, and that you preferred baking to cooking.

And to his surprise, you were extremely funny, with a dry sense of humor that caught him off guard.

“I’ll need to try your pastries one day then?” He said with a quirked brow as you shook your head.

“Unfortunately, not on the nutrition plan your management gave me.” You bit down a laugh.

“One cheat day won’t hurt…” He pushed for it.

You sheepishly shrugged. “I’ll consider.” Another laugh escaping your lips as he let out a stupid groan with a roll in his eyes.

And, for the first time, Lando felt like he really saw you—not just as the chef who came and went, but as someone he genuinely wanted to know.

When the meal was finally over, you started to stand, reaching for the dishes, but Lando stopped you.

“I’ll take care of it,” He said.

Your brow furrowed. “But—”

“You cooked. I’ll clean. That’s the deal now.”

You hesitated, then nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Okay… Thanks.”

Soon, you grabbed your bag to leave, Lando walking you to the door, feeling an odd pang of disappointment as you stepped outside.

“Same time tomorrow then?” You asked, glancing back at him.

Lando grinned. “Only if you’re eating with me again.”

Your smile widened, and for the first time, you didn’t look like you were in a hurry to leave.

“Deal,” You tried to hide your excitement.

“Goodnight.” He smiled.

“Goodnight.”

And as you walked off while he closed the door, Lando was already looking forward to tomorrow.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!! ^_^ and please lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tags list :D

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

[chainmail-butch]

As a transwoman in explicitly trans spaces I get treated like a wasp in a cup.

For example, I went to a speed dating event the other day. I'm pretty good at talking with people and dating apps suck. The venue had hosted other queer dating events including a sapphic event, which I had explicitly avoided. I did not want to roll those dice. But recently they held a T4T event which seemed like a much safer prospect.

I get there and its me, my roommate (transmasc, moral support) and my roommate's friend (transmasc-ish, also moral support). Apart from us there was one trans woman, one trans man, and 3 AFAB NB Lesbians. Not a confidence inspiring turnout.

I spent the event making pleasant conversation, but as time went on I noticed that only the other transwoman and transman had really treated me normally. Everyone else was pleasant enough that I didn't fully suss out what was wrong until my roommate noted that they had all seemed a bit transphobic towards me. After that the pieces fell into place.

I can only assume its the masculine gender expression tied to the possession of a weapon (cock). I wasn't overly forward. I talked about a theoretical pet alligator, archeological digs, wind chimes, and architecture that I enjoy (Byzantine domes). Perfectly mundane and engaging topics. But I was treated like something unsightly. A task to be gotten through.

It hurts to show up to the event organized for people like me and still be excluded. I had avoided every other event for precisely this reason. I still found myself ostracized. This is not the first time this has happened.

I know that most of the people who follow this blog are cool. Believe it or not I've vetted each and every one of you.

You shouldn't need to be told this.

Address your internal biases. Please.

[dramaticals]

following instructions

pairing: theodore nott x gryffindor reader

summary: enemies with benefits with theo where they're constantly insulting each other but they still can't get enough. smut. au where characters at hogwarts are aged up to be 19+. mdni. / requested by anonymous.

author's note: co-wrote this with lily (@softeliza) <3 we honestly wrote this as a theo x hermione, but swapped hermione for reader

✧ read part two: following instructions (headcanons) ✧

Theo's judging eyes watch as you dice the sopophorous bean before tossing it into your cauldron, your gaze shifting between your opened textbook and your cauldron. A bead of sweat drips from your forehead. You were meticulously following the directions, and yet something still didn't seem right about your potion.

Theo scoffs, shaking his head. What an idiot, he thinks.

"You're supposed to crush it." Theo says, demonstrating pointedly with a silver dagger and popping the squashed bean into his own cauldron. The cauldron bubbles, and the liquid shifts a shade darker.

"You're supposed to follow the instructions, which clearly say to cut it," you say through gritted teeth.

Potions was the one class Theo never followed the directions for, and yet he always seemed to be doing significantly better than you. You hated that.

"You know," you add with a huff, annoyance laced in your words. "Just because you don't respect the rules any other time doesn't mean you shouldn't follow a simple recipe."

There was something about pissing you off that gave Theo the right amount of joy to get him through the day. Hearing you huff at his words was like finding a jelly slug in a mountain of acid pops. It was glorious.

"Do you believe everything you read?" Theo asks mockingly, his eyes unmoving from the cauldron in front of him. He doesn't know why he was helping you—this was meant to be a competition for the coveted felix felicis. Maybe it was because Theo knew you weren't going to listen to him anyway. "Besides, I respect the rules." Theo says, but even he can't keep a straight face at his claim, his lips tugging into a smirk.

"I believe everything I read in a textbook," you say, your eyes narrowing and your mouth falling open in shock. Was he serious? "You know, that book of words that literally outlines how to make the potion? How else would you know how to brew it?" You hope he doesn't notice the genuine curiosity in your question. You actually wanted to know how Theo knew what to do all the time. It was so infuriating.

"Natural intelligence and charm." Theo says coolly.

In actuality, Theo had managed to find a textbook filled with inscriptions, correcting the printed text with tips and tricks on how to brew a potion every time. But he wasn't going to tell you that. Theo would gladly and happily let you believe he was gifted.

Theo peeks at your cauldron and has to hold a snort back. It looked just about ready to implode.

"This is a simple recipe, huh?" Theo muses. "Is that why your potion looks and smells like absolute shit?"

"Maybe I just thought I'd throw you a scrap with this one. I mean, we both know you're in desperate need of some luck, especially on the Quidditch pitch. If anyone needs this win, it's you."

"Oh, so you watch me on the pitch, do you?" Theo says with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes. Curse him.

Theo stirs counterclockwise a few times and then once again clockwise. The potion bubbles again. This time, it shifts into its final colour form. Bingo.

Theo, with an expression beaming with pride, calls over Professor Slughorn to inspect the potion. You zero in on Theo's cauldron and let out a small sigh. You didn't need confirmation from Slughorn to know that Theo did it. That bloody asshole did it.

Slughorn tosses a single leaf into the cauldron. The leaf disintegrates, and Slughorn clasps his hands together and announces, "We have a winner! Class dismissed!"

As Theo receives congratulations from all around, you begin to tidy your workspace, empty your cauldron, and pack your things. Anger boils in your stomach. As much as you tried to avert your gaze from Theo, your eyes are drawn to the tiny vile Slughorn passes to Theo. With a triumphant smirk thrown your way, he tucks the potion into his pocket before cleaning his workspace.

"Try to use it for something other than trying to sleep with girls," you quip, clutching your books to your chest. The confident, holier-than-thou persona slips over you like a glove. It was a default shield whenever you felt threatened, especially academically. And Theo was often on the receiving end of it all. "I mean, I'm sure you could use some luck in that department, but I doubt that's what Zygmunt Budge had in mind."

"I'm doing quite well in that department, actually." Theo says. With looks and an attitude like his, girls were flocking to him like nifflers to gold. "Much like potions, really. They all just come to me."

Theo awaits your signature glare and snarky remark, but he was simply met with a silent shove to his shoulder as you headed to the door. His brows furrow, disappointed in the lack of repartee, before Theo's walking after you. He falls into step with you, following you through the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon.

"What's the rush, little lion? Can't stomach losing?"

"I'm not in a rush; I just don't want to be around you. Don't you have some dingy hole to crawl back into?" You fume, your grip on your textbooks tightens, and your pace quickens.

"You wound me." Theo simpers, clutching his chest in mock-hurt.

Being in Theo's presence was getting you more and more riled up. You felt like you were minutes away from becoming a human version of a Filibuster Firework. Theo loved when you got like this. He can't quite pinpoint the exact moment he realized why he liked seeing you so worked up, but he's quickly reminded by the staggered breathing and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Theo continues to stroll alongside you, an air of arrogance in each step he takes. You quickly realize you have no idea where you're headed. The echoing of both your steps, coupled with the hovering nuisance on your side, makes you let out a sharp, frustrated exhale. You turn to Theo, glaring daggers into his stormy eyes.

"Can you just go? You're so—ugh." You growl, unable to find the proper words.

Theo's brows perk upward. There's something familiar about the expression you give him. He'd seen it before. Last time he'd seen it, the two of you ended up christening the boy's change room after a Quidditch match—Slytherin should beat Gryffindor more often.

Before you can articulate your frustrations, Theo grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into a vacant classroom. The feeling of his fingers around your wrist sends a jolt of warmth straight through your body. Theo pins you against the door, your books falling to the floor with a sharp thud. He skillfully locks the door with a slight flick of his wand before muttering the muffliato charm and putting his wand away. Darkened eyes meet your gaze, a mixture of amusement and want in his eyes.

"I'm so what?" Theo demands. His hand caresses your cheek before roughly wrapping around the base of your throat. "Use your words."

Your mind goes hazy, as if you've been confunded, the moment you feel his hand on your throat. You'd never admit how much you loved when Theo did that.

With a shaky breath, you meet his intense gaze to say, "Infuriating."

The way you reacted to Theo's touch was unlike any other girl he had the pleasure of fucking at Hogwarts. You were just so obvious, and Theo had no shame in admitting that he found it all extremely arousing. Of course, your mouth would claim otherwise, but Theo always had a plan to occupy your pretty little mouth.

You bite down on your lip, stifling the whimper begging to escape. Your breathing is in sync with each other, and the sexual tension makes the air around you thick.

"Are you going to fix it? Or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?" You tempt, leaning up slightly, just to see if he'll close the gap between your lips and his.

"I don't know," Theo responds, keeping a fair distance—only enough for your lips to brush lightly against his. To keep you wanting. Theo leans into your neck, ghosting breathy, teasing kisses up until he's milimeters away from your ear. "Are you going to say please?"

"You've got to be kidding," you huff, shooting a glare at Theo as you try to keep your breathing steady.

You weren't exactly experienced, at least not like Theo. You had a few moments with others, but no one had ever gotten you to feel as good as Theo did. It enraged you that Theo knew how good he made you feel, but you also took pleasure in knowing that you must be riling him up just as equally because Theo always seemed to come crawling back.

You bring your free hand up, tangling your fingers in his lush, brown locks, before tugging his head back a bit so he could look at you. He groans at this. It was one of many acts that really got Theo going, and it just so happened to be where your hands gravitated to the most.

"Please," you say, the tiniest of smirks on your lips.

Anticipation runs through your veins. You didn't need to say anything else. By the way he was looking at you, his lustful eyes boring into your gaze, Theo knew you needed him right now.

"Good girl," he muses with a cocky grin.

The first time Theo had praised you like that, while laced with ridicule, it had elicited a whimper that had him reeling. Today was no different.

Theo moves his hand from your throat and down to your waist, expertly pulling you away from the door and onto the desks behind him. Theo wastes no time and captures your lips with his. One hand finds your thigh, teasing up your bare skin and under your skirt. Your hands find and tug at his belt. Theo unbuckles it and tosses it aside.

"Let's see if you can keep it up." Theo says hotly against your lips.

It was in your nature to be good. But with Theo, there was that bubbling voice inside you that beckoned you to misbehave—to get under his skin. To be bad, all so he could teach you a lesson. Which is why, as Theo plants nippy, wet kisses down your neck, you can't help the words that blurt out of your mouth.

"Let's see if you can make me shake, like—what was that bloke's name..." You trail off, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt for another kiss and wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close.

There was no other guy, of course, but you wanted him to think otherwise. The mischievous glint in your eyes changes to amusement as Theo's eyes darken. His fingers drag possessively across the insides of your thighs. It was hard for Theo to imagine you with someone else. You two weren't exclusive by any means, but the way you'd whimper and dig your nails into his back had him feeling territorial.

"Shake?" Theo asks against your lips. There was a tinge of something in his tone, and, deep down, you wanted it to be jealousy. "I'll fucking make you shake."

Feverish kisses move down your neck, eliciting a whine out of you, his free hands taking residence on the base of your throat. He plants open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive spots along your neck, sucking softly on the skin, surely leaving a mark everyone would be able to see. Theo pulls back to admire his work. He's pleased. You, on the other hand, were equal parts excited and annoyed. Excited because the sensation made the blood rush to your cheeks and to your core, and annoyed because you had to explain the markings to your friends.

"Theo," you hiss. "You know better."

Theo doesn't listen, obviously. Instead, he moves down your body until he's crouched and face-to-cunt. Slender fingers reach under your skirt, hook onto your panties, and slide the garment off. In an instant, Theo's between your legs, lapping his tongue relentlessly over your clit.

"Oh my god," you gasp, one hand grasping onto the edge of the desk, your back arching instinctively to bring yourself closer to his tongue. Your free hand finds his hair again, your hips rolling to meet his movements.

Theo's smirks into your core, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels you roll onto his mouth. Strong hands position themselves on either leg, urging you to spread your legs wider. You try to obey his silent requests, but it's not enough. Impatience hits him hard, and he's repositioning your legs so they're slung over his shoulders, a firm hand pushing your hips down onto the wooden desk. The new position allowed him to be flush against you, his tongue circling your entrance and lapping up any arousal.

"Theo," you moan, louder than normal.

You could tell he was pissed. It'd always been your goal, especially in intimate settings, but Theo had never been like this. He buries his face between your legs, his nose rubbing against your clit as his tongue works on your opening. He dips a finger in and withdraws it out of you slowly, contrasting his unyielding tongue. Your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"More," you choke out. "Please, give me more."

Your moans were fueling the already raging fire in him. Fuck, he needed to hear more of that. Theo uses his free hand to hold you steady, his tongue and lips unrelenting. He adds another digit inside of you, curling his fingers against your spot. Theo wanted to make you cum now more than ever. He wanted you to remember that even if you were fucking someone else, he was the only one who could make you unravel like this.

"Sit fucking still then," he growled against your slit, stormy eyes shooting up to look at you.

You fight hard to listen to him, desperately trying not to squirm. Theo was cruel enough to stop and leave you high and dry, so it was in your best interest to do as instructed. You dig your nails into the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep your focus on something other than the pleasure growing inside of you.

"Th-Theo," you gasp. "I—"

You're close, and you know what Theo wants—what he always wants. Theo wanted you to ask for permission, and with the image of someone else messing with you fresh in his mind, Theo needed to know he had that control over you now more than ever. Breathy pants fill the room, and you fear you can't hold it back any longer.

"Fuck, please. Can I please..." You moan, throwing your head back against the desk.

"Please what?" Theo says roughly against you. If Theo's cock wasn't already erect, it would be now. Your moans and gasps of pleasure were truly something that needed to be studied. Who knew these delightfully ragged breaths could come out of someone so irritatingly uptight? "Words, Y/L/N."

The fog of pleasure Theo has you in has made it impossible for you to do the one thing you pride yourself on: following the instructions. Typically, Theo would remove himself and make you beg for contact. Today, though, his actions were ceaseless. Despite your strong will to be good, your body wouldn't cooperate.

"Oh my god," you whimper, your back arching as an intense orgasm washes over you. Your body jerks—no, shakes—and your moans are broken up by desperate gasps as wave after wave hits you.

Theo curses under his breath. As pissed as he was that you didn't ask, Theo graciously allows you to release on his tongue, lapping up your sweet fluids. He'd reprimand you later. As you come down from your high, your body collapses onto the desk. You've never felt anything like that before.

Theo stands and slides his fingers out of you slowly. His darkened, lustful eyes are trained on yours. As much as he enjoyed the view, Theo wasn't happy.

"Don't," you breathe. "I know—I should have... I know."

"So much for following instructions," Theo says, disregarding your words. He licks your arousal off his fingers casually, and the sight makes you shift and clench your thighs together. He was the hottest irritant you've ever seen.

"Fuck off," you say with an exasperated huff. You prop yourself up by your elbows, slowly moving into a sitting position. "You didn't exactly help the situation."

So maybe Theo was being a bit of a prick. Not like he could help it—you squirming and moaning for him like that triggered something primal in him. Theo didn't want to stop; he wanted to make you scream for him. Still, it really shouldn't have been hard to ask.

By the way Theo was looking at you, you could tell it would take more than a crass brush-off to wipe the icy glare and pouted lips from his expression. Delicate fingers grip onto Theo's shirt, tugging him closer to you. You ghost your lips against his, meeting his steely gaze. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

You don't wait for a response. Instead, you nip at his bottom lip before pulling him in for a slow, deep kiss. Despite his annoyance, Theo kisses back, placing a strong hand behind your neck to keep you in place. The kiss is full of passion, anger, and need.

You maneuver yourself off the desk, unbreaking the hot kiss, as you reposition so that Theo's the one against the desk. He acknowledges you taking charge, and he allows it because, quite frankly, whenever you did take charge, Theo found it extremely intoxicating.

Only now do you break the kiss, peering up at Theo as your hands fumble with his pants. He kicks them off just as you remove your own top, making a point of leaving your bra intact. Theo's breath catches. God, he wanted to bury his face between the valley of your breasts.

"So?" You ask again, a devilish smirk on your lips, your fingers making progress on unbuttoning his collared shirt. "Will you?"

"Go on, then." Theo says. It's not lost on him how much leniency he gives you—not just in this moment. Any other girl who disobeyed his instructions would have been tossed aside so he could move on to the next. But with you, as vexing as you were, you also very much intrigued him.

At his permission, you lightly push him back so he's sitting on the desk, giving him a much comfortable position to watch as you slowly unhook your bra, letting the garment fall to the floor. You can sense his probing eyes on you, and you can't help the sly smile that appears as you straddle him, one leg on each side of him.

Theo's hands find your waist immediately, slowly sliding up your sides, to your bare back, and then to your front. He squeezes your breasts, eliciting a breathy moan from you. Your skin was soft under his rough hands.

"And I thought you were going to let that ego of yours make a horrible choice for the both of us." You tease.

Theo's too enamoured with this new position (and view) to respond to your jests. One hand rests firmly on your jaw as he pulls you in for a kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. Meanwhile, your hand moves to stroke his length, feeling Theo grow even harder at your touch.

"Shit," Theo groans.

"Someone's missed me," you whisper against his lips. Your thumb teases the tip of his cock, evoking a slight twitch out of him.

"God, shut up."

Theo wanted nothing more than to wipe—no, fuck—that smug expression on your face. And he's just about ready to take matters into his own hands, but you beat him to it.

Still wet from your previous orgasm, you were beyond ready to have Theo inside you. You lift yourself up slightly, guiding him to your entrance. He bites back a groan, his hands gripping your waist. You lock gazes as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your mouth falling open in a glorious 'o' shape as you take all of him into you.

While this wasn't the first time you had Theodore Nott resting deeply in your cunt, you took a moment to adjust.

"Are you going to move, or what?" Theo growls impatiently, bucking his hips and roughly nipping at the soft skin on your neck.

His impatience makes you smirk.

"Hey," you say, with a wry smile. You snake your fingers up to his hair, tugging his head back slightly to give you room to trail a path of kisses along his neck. You were going to prolong this and make you both ache for more. You didn't want to be the only one who was a moaning mess today. "If I'm making it up to you, then it's my rules."

"You know I don't give a shit about rules."

"Too bad."

This makes Theo's jaw clench. Before he can utter another quip, you're rolling your hips, feeling him embedded inside you. The movement feels good, but you know it's not enough for either of you just yet.

"God, I'm thankful your ego isn't the only thing that's big," you moan against his ear.

This makes Theo's jaw clench. You hear a string of curse words in another language, something you've noticed Theo does in moments where his brain had short-circuited. Enough sense, it seems, is knocked back into him as you can understand the breathless words, "And you take me so fucking well."

Theo's lips find the top of your chest, kissing down feverishly. His tongue flicks expertly against your right nipple as his hand moves to grip your bare ass from under your skirt. You arch into him, letting out a sharp gasp at the dual sensation. Despite his sentiment about rules, Theo lets you control the pace. He holds back the strong desire to thrust upwards into you, to fuck you hard.

"Oh, Theo," you whine as you continue to roll your hips. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and lift yourself up, almost completely off his dick. Ghosting your lips against his, you push yourself back down—hard—feeling him go even deeper. You repeat these movements, your moans growing louder.

Theo can't stop the thoughts of how gorgeous you looked from clouding his mind. You weren't bad to look at normally, but seeing you fuck yourself with his cock had to be one of the wonders of the world. Only if that were a reality, Theo's not sure he could stand anyone else ogling you like this.

"Yes, that... that feels good." Theo groans, his cock throbbing from your movements.

You press your forehead against his, your eyes locking with his as you continue. One of the things Theo liked most about this little arrangement was your unnerving ability to keep eye contact—there was nothing more sexy than seeing the woman you were pleasuring crumble. Eyes can tell you everything.

"I'm trying to—" you breathe, rocking yourself against him. The movement wasn't nearly fast enough, but the way you were moving had him reaching depths you didn't know were attainable. "—to be good."

"Are you?" Theo asks between pants, squeezing your ass roughly. He leans into your lips. "Can you be a good girl for me now?"

You give him a small nod, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Your breath is quavering as you try to speak; your eyes re-lock onto his. "Am I not being good for you?"

This makes him chuckle darkly. Theo wasn't an idiot. He knew you practically yearned for his words of praise. The knowledge was something he took advantage of from time to time, withholding and dangling his praise in front of you just to see how far you'd go to make him say it.

To prove to Theo you were being good, you push yourself down onto him roughly, a whimper escaping your lips. You increase your speed, unable to hold out anymore, fucking yourself hard, deep, and fast on his cock.

"Fuck." Theo swears, and he can't help himself now. Hands keep you in place as he fucks up into you, cock hitting your spot repeatedly and mercilessly. He relishes the feeling of your wet core around him. Your clit presses against his pelvis at each thrust.

You took pleasure (literally and figuratively) in Theo's natural ability in knowing. He knew what to say, how to touch you so you were melting, and when to take back control. His hands digging into your hips told you everything you needed to know: Theo was going to fuck you senseless.

"I want to be good," you pant, your nails digging into his back, grasping for a release.

"Then you know what I want to hear."

He holds you flush against him, arms wrapping around you as he continues to thrust. He can feel his own pleasure grow. Your head falls onto his shoulder as you feel it building up in your stomach again. This time, you weren't going to wait until it was too late.

"Theo, please," you practically beg. Theo was the only person who'd ever make you feel like this, and you were past the point of caring whether he knew it too. "Can I cum, please? For you."

"Yes," Theo hisses. He was close too. "Cum for me. Now."

Your orgasm hits you hard and fast, your head falling back as you drag your nails into his skin. Theo continues to thrust up sharply, chasing the high for the both of you. You clench around his length, the sensation mixed with your moans pushing Theo over the edge.

"That's my good girl."

Theo's praise for you was not lost in the chorus of breathy moans and grunts of pleasure. His addition of the word 'my' made you shake even more as another wave of pleasure washes over you.

"Oh, God, yes, Theo."

His hand moves to the back of your neck desperately, guiding you into him for a passionate kiss as he spills into you with a moan.

Ragged breaths fill the room. There was always a moment of limbo after every encounter—a moment where the two of you stayed entangled and nestled with each other, savouring the proximity and stealing last, sweet kisses. You knew the moment you got up, the two of you would go back to despising each other again, until next time.

"So?" Theo asks after a moment, expectant of an answer, as if you could read his mind. "That dumb git you mentioned earlier. Was he better than me?"

His question makes you smirk, and you have to bite it back so as not to show how content you were that he had lingered on that thought.

"You don't want me to answer that," you say, giving him a small pat on the shoulder before getting up. You slip back into your clothes and adjust your hair.

The answer should have been obvious to Theo, but you weren't giving him the satisfaction of admitting it because it did nothing for your reality. This was as far as this would go. Theodore Nott was a pretentious asshole who just so happened to be a good fuck. There was never going to be more than that.

"You definitely exceeded expectations today, Theo," you say, gathering your books from the floor. "But you didn't do anything worth an outstanding."

With a swift flick of your wand, you unlock the door and leave Theo in the vacant classroom, already fantasizing about next time.

[losergames]

Chop Shop is strictly 18+ for language, themes, and potential explicit content. 

🔗 - Game Intro | Bug Report | Ko-Fi

Episode Four is now available! (+ 59,000) - PLAY HERE

Debrief after your meeting with Inez.

Steal... or don't!

Yvonne has a secret.

2 more achievements.

And more!

This update comes with a patch (Version 1.2.3) For this update you will need to start a NEW SAVE. An updated inventory macro has been implemented and is not compatible with old saves. I really wish you didn't have to but it's what's best for the game and its longevity!

Patch notes + author notes are under the cut. If preferred, you can access them in game in the start menu.

STORY

PROLOGUE:

General edits and fixes.

More vague, as to not elicit any emotional connection to the crew for continuity.

EPISODE 01:

Added a new set of personality building choices when meeting KJ, Jonno, Natasha and Aiden at the bar.

EPISODE 02:

Tweaked the conversation with Dilani in the closing scene to reflect more on the situation. Added some more fearful dialogue and flavour text.

Other general edits and fixes.

EPISODE 03:

Fixed gaps and spacing issues.

Minor phrasing and sentence structure changes.

Grammar and typo fixes.

UI + TECHNICAL

SETTINGS:

Changing the font size now only applies to the game text in the passages.

Added descriptions to the toggleable settings.

UI:

The background now changes colour dependent on what theme you are using, instead of the default black.

INVENTORY:

The inventory macro has been updated! Previously V2, now V3 of the ChapelR Simple Inventory Macro.

CREATE A SAVE

Modified the randomise PC choice, setting pronouns in 'sets' instead of randomising each pronoun separately.

GAMEPLAY MODE

Players can now choose a gameplay mode when starting a new save: Regular or Challenge.

Challenge mode disables the back button, disallowing players to return to the previous passage. Players cannot redo dice rolls or try out different choices for desired outcomes.

Challenge mode is not available in Create A Save. All CAS made saves default to regular mode.

AN: hello hello! it has been a while -- episode 04 is finally here!

this ep was a long one to get through but we finally made it out of the fog. i found that i wrote a bunch of stuff that just... didn't fit? but is hopefully going to be used later down the line, so it's cool i've got shells of scenes for later.

i can't find any game breaking bugs myself and my amazing beta testers have scanned through as many possible variants as they can! of course, if there is anything funky, broken, or maybe not triggering correctly, please submit a bug report!

again i will say that you will need to start a NEW SAVE for this update. unfortunately the updated inventory macro is not compatible with previous saves. i really didn't want this to be a thing when updating chop shop but it is unfortunately just the way for this update - apologies!! i know it's super annoying when games do this but chop shop is still a wip so there will always be some teething problems along the way.

as i look through my notes, we have now completed act 1 of my outline (AAAAHH) so soooo exciting. finally pc can stop wringing their hands about being bad and actually //start// being bad.

if you've made it this far -- hello and thank you! i'm so happy we're at the point where PC is making some real decisions, taking another step into their life of crime.

happy update day and happy reading!! thank you so much for the continued support and patience!!! i hope you enjoy the new episode! - becky :-) <3

[prokopetz]

In recent posts I've complained that a lot of tabletop RPGs which toss around the term "fiction first" don't actually understand what it means, and I've been asked to expand on that complaint. So:

In my experience, there are two ways that game texts which want to position themselves as "fiction first" trip themselves up, one obvious and one subtle.

The first and more obvious pitfall is treating "fiction first" as an abstract ideology. They're using "fiction first" as a synonym for "story over rules" in a way that calls back to the role-playing-versus-roll-playing discourse of the early 2000s. The trouble is, now as then, nobody can usefully explain what "story over rules" actually entails. At best, they land on a definition of "fiction first" that talks about the GM's right to ignore the rules to better serve the story, which is no kind of definition at all – it's just putting a funny hat on the Rule Zero fallacy and trying to pass it off as some sort of totalising ideology of play.

A more useful way of defining "fiction first" play is to think of it not in terms of whether you engage with the rules at all, but in terms of when they're invoked: specifically, as a question of order of operations.

Suppose, for example, that you're playing Dungeons & Dragons, and you pick up the dice and say "I attack the dragon". Some critics would claim that no actual narrative has been established – that this is simply a bare invocation of game mechanics – but in fact we can infer a great deal: your character is going to approach the dragon, navigating any inclement terrain which lies between them, and attempt to kill the dragon using the weapon they're holding in their hand. The rules are so tightly bound to a particular set of narrative circumstances that simply invoking those rules lets us work backwards to determine what the context and stakes must be for that invocation of the rules to be sensical; this, broadly speaking, is what "rules first" looks like.

Conversely, let's say that your game of Dungeons & Dragons has confronted you with a pit blocking your path, and you want to make an Athletics check to cross it. At this point the GM is probably going to stop you and say, hold up, tell us what that looks like. Are you trying to jump across it? Are you trying to climb down one wall of the pit and up the other? Are you trying to tie a rope to the halfling and toss them to the other side? In other words, before you can pick up the dice, you need to have a little sidebar with the GM to hash out what the narrative context is, and to negotiate what can be achieved and what's at stake if you mess it up; this, broadly, is what "fiction first" looks like.

At this point I know some people are thinking "wait, hold on – both of those examples were from Dungeons & Dragons; are you saying that Dungeons & Dragons is both a rules-first game and a fiction-first game?" And yeah, I am. That's the second, more subtle place where game texts that talk about "fiction first" go astray: they talk about it as though being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which is inherent to game systems as a whole.

This is not in fact true: being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which describes particular invocations of the rules. In practice, only very simple games spend all of their time in one mode or the other; most will switch back and forth at need. Generally, most "traditional" RPGs (i.e., the direct descendants of Dungeons & Dragons and its various imitators) tend to operate in rules-first mode in combat and fiction-first mode out of it, though this is a simplification – when and how such mode-switching occurs can be quite complex.

Like any other design pattern, "fiction first" mechanics are a tool that's well suited for some jobs, and ill suited for others. Sometimes your rules are fine-grained enough that having an explicit negotiation and stakes-setting phase would just be adding extra steps. Sometimes you're using the outputs of the rules a narrative prompt, and having to pin the context down ahead of time would defeat the purpose. Fortunately, you don't have to commit yourself to one approach or the other; as long as your text is clear about how you're assuming a given set of rules toys will be used, you can switch modes as need dictates. However, you're not going to be capable of that kind of transparency if you're thinking in terms of "this a Fiction First™ game".

(Incidentally, this is why it can be hard to talk about "fiction first" with OSR fans if you're being dogmatic about fiction-first framing being an immutable feature of particular games. Since traditional RPGs tend to observe the above-described rules-first-in-combat, fiction-first-out-of-combat division, and OSR games tend to treat actually getting into a fight as a strategic failure state, a lot of OSR games spend most of their time in fiction-first mode. If you go up to an OSR fan and insist that D&D-style games can never be fiction-first, then attempt to define "fiction first" for them and proceed to describe how they usually play, they'll quite justifiably conclude that you have your head up your ass!)

[cosmicalily]

6:18pm with lee minho - a @cosmicalily timestamp

author’s note: i made myself and my family pasta for dinner tonight and i'm just a silly delusional girl who wants a man to cook for her.

Evenings with Minho were something you cherished. There was something so comforting about the quiet atmosphere, the warmth of your apartment from the dusk sunlight that melted through your windows. He always pouted at your suggestions of takeaway, even when he was exhausted after working all day. Minho’s love language was his actions, his physical and nonphysical demonstrations, and cooking you dinner every single night that he possibly could was a vow he had made to himself (and you, of course) when he had first asked you to be his.

This evening, Minho was cooking you pasta. He didn’t mind if you helped, but he preferred just having your presence nearby, listening to you talk about your day while he kept his hands busy. As he diced the onions, you explained to him the most recent update in Felix’s situationship. “He’s down so bad for her, and everyone knows it. But I finally got him to talk to me about it properly, and I think he might ask her out on a date finally.”

“I’m glad, baby. He needs to be forward with his feelings, he’s too anxious about rejection.” Minho replied, tossing the onions into a pan.

“Can I do the olive oil?” you asked, and he passed you the bottle, letting you drizzle a generous amount into the frying pan. 

As he sliced the mushrooms, you talked about a sweater that you were debating purchasing. “It’s really cosy,” you sighed. “And it’s such a pretty maroon. But I already have a lot of knitwear, don’t I? I really don’t need another one.”

“You should buy it if it makes you happy, sweet girl,” Minho answered, offering you a soft smile. “Can you pass me the salt and pepper? You can add them to the pan if you’d like.”

You cracked the salt and pepper shakers above the pan, then put them back down on the tray beside your seat on the countertop. Once the sauce was simmering and the pasta was boiling, he walked over to stand in between your legs, arms shifting naturally to your waist. His eyes were warm, like melted dark chocolate, and his demeanour was too. 

Minho loved you quietly, gently, but in no way weakly. There was a depth to the intimacy the two of you shared that went above and beyond verbal communication and physical touch. His existence, regardless of his position in the universe, was something you cherished on its own. It was simply sheer luck that you were alive in the same lifetime, let alone able to exist alongside each other. Fate wasn’t a strong enough word to describe it.

“This is nice, you know,” you murmured, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Not just having you cook for me, although I’m spoiled by the fact that you do. But being together, like being able to live with you and love you.”

“I know,” Minho replied, cupping your cheeks and caressing them softly. “I know I’m not good at saying it enough, but I love you.”

“I can always tell,” you promised. “You’re only sappy like this around me.”

He gently flicked your thigh with a tea towel, and you giggled. “Yeah, because everyone else pisses me off. Not you, though. I like you.”

“Like?”

“Love,” Minho corrected himself, rolling his eyes, but pressed a kiss to your lips all the same.

[cottonlemonade]

Marriage Of Convenience [Part 2]

word count: 1926 || avg. reading time: 11 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, slice of life

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: Marriage is not a big deal, right? Anyone can do it and it comes with a whole lot of benefits! That’s why your friend proposes to you one morning with all the elegance and romance of an empty pudding cup.

[Part 1]

While it was Tetsuro’s turn to host lunch the following Saturday, you sat at his kitchen island on his laptop, pouring over yet another form. 

“Who knew marriage came with this much bureaucracy?”, you huffed out. 

This one was from JVA’s HR department who wasted no time wanting you two to update your name, emergency contacts, marital status, and home address. 

He hummed in agreement as he diced an onion, trying his hardest not to breathe and just squint at the vegetable to avoid any sting in his eyes. 

After successfully transferring it into the hot pan without a single tear, he turned to you, wiping his hands on the front of his apron. You were still filling in boxes here and there when he stepped behind you and studied your entries thus far. 

“Why did you put your apartment as our home address?”

You swiveled your stool, challenging eyebrow raised. 

“Because my place is better.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“Because you come over every morning for breakfast, that’s why.” You began listing, counting on your fingers for emphasis, “It has a balcony, a great kitchen, big friendly windows,”

“You make it sound like my home is a prison.”

“Mine is closer to work-“

“By like three minutes!”

“Our favorite bakery is right across the street and the rent is just about the same. There is no contest, really.”

“I have an extra room.”, he said simply, walking back to the stove and stirring the onions now with a wooden spoon. Your eyes followed him as you spun back around. 

“Why would that be a good argument? I’m not planning on reproducing with you.”

“Okay, rude. And also, so you want to sleep with me in the same bed, is that it?”

Your fingers froze over the keyboard and your superior smile, formed by sure, premature victory, fell and a pout took its place. 

“Man…”, you tapped the backspace repeatedly to clear the designated line, muttering, “I didn’t wanna move, it’s so much work.”

“That’s what you have such a big, strong husband for.”, he grinned and straightened up to showcase how broad his shoulders were, then kind of deflated back into his normal posture as he peeled potatoes, “And besides, we can do that during our honeymoon.” 

You shrugged and nodded in defeat as you put down his address. Upon learning of your marriage, the company had swiftly provided three extra vacation days for this coming week as a gift to the newlyweds - this was no surprise to you as it had been one of the highlights in the marriage presentation. 

With an overly loud groan, Tetsuro placed the last box on the floor by your bed, only to immediately collapse onto your mattress. It was still wrapped in heavy plastic to protect it during the move and crinkled when he sat up on his elbows. 

“You know, I think now is a fantastic opportunity to revisit our plan for the office.”

You pulled a couple of books from a box, thinking if maybe it was time for a new sorting system of the shelf.

“Wifey? You there?”

“You really gotta stop with that.”

He smirked when you rolled your eyes, “But why, if it annoys you so much?”

You ignored him and pondered, weighing a book in your hand, “Okay. Office. Hmm… To be fair, what is there that we don’t do already? We go for lunch together most days, we talk, we joke, we go home. It’s not like Japan is known for its PDA.”

“True true. But instead of walking in as per usual, we could hold hands. I really can’t have people think I’m not affectionate with my-“, he paused upon your glare before ending with, “oh so lovely wife.”

“Okay. Hand-holding is permitted. - What do we say to friends?”

“You can tell them whatever you want.”

“Even Asana?”

She was your best friend in the entire world after all and even the one who introduced you to the recruiters at JVA a couple of years ago. Now she sat at the desk next to you in the office. 

“Sure, as long as you swear her to secrecy.”

“I’ll even pinky swear if that makes you feel better.”

“Actually a lot better, thanks. - Ugh.”, he dropped back down with an exhausted sigh to fully starfish on the mattress for a moment, then sat back up, “Alright. Imma take a shower and then be a good hubby and get started on dinner. Just tell me, if you need any help.” He got up and walked towards the door, then stopped and flexed unnecessarily, “Especially with building stuff or changing light bulbs.”

“All good, I can manage.”, you replied without looking up. 

Tetsuro tilted his head, “Over dinner, we’ll need to have a serious conversation about your aversion to this whole marriage role-play.”

You laughed and used the door in his back to push him out. 

On Thursday then, the first day back at work, you tried your best to peek around the giant gift basket your coworkers had gotten you. To not look ungrateful by putting it below the desk on the ground, you had resigned yourself to push it as far to the table’s edge as possible, but it was simply so big that it was still somewhat in the way. At least now, it was only slightly limiting your ability to do your job. The huge flower bouquet that had accompanied the basket was no longer covering half your screen since Tetsuro, under many bows and thank yous, placed it in a pitcher with water on the window sill. 

“Here.”, Asana said, rolling over a little cabinet that previously had stacks of important documents on top of it. Those documents were now precariously placed by an already wonky mountain of binders. 

Together with her, you heaved the basket onto the cabinet where, although centered, it hung over on all sides. 

“I’ll never get this back home on the train.”, you observed, while Asana leaned against the corner of your desk. 

“Don’t you mean we, darling?” Tetsuro just came back from the break room and replaced your empty cup of coffee with a new, steaming cup of tea. You rolled your eyes and Asana laughed - you had filled her in the moment she came into the office that morning, pouting that she hadn’t been invited to the wedding. Safely hidden in the supply closet, you had explained to her in urgent whispers, how the whole situation came to be in the first place and detailed how just that morning you and him had stood in front of the office building, looking up at the many windows reflecting the early light. After a moment’s silence, Tetsuro then adjusted the bag that hung over his shoulder and held out his hand to you expectantly, and you had taken it with minimal hesitation. You had held his hand before a few times when you two maneuvered a crowd at a fair or in a shopping mall, but this was definitely not the same. And he wasn’t satisfied with just holding your hand, but instead slipped his fingers between yours. Apparently, he had read somewhere that couples in an equal, loving relationship held hands this way. You felt your palm getting sweaty, nervous about the impending charade. It was a perfectly valid, legal marriage, of course, but you knew that if anyone found out about the motive behind it, raised eyebrows would be the least of your worries. You told Asana how you thought everyone you passed was staring (they were not) and how people must be whispering about you to one another (they weren’t). In reality, no one even noticed until you reached your department, and that’s when the party poppers and cheers erupted. 

Now, Tetsuro fished a stray piece of confetti from your hair and balanced it on his fingertip in front of your nose. 

“Make a wish, darling.”

You cocked an annoyed brow, a gesture that had risen exponentially in use ever since you’d moved in together. 

“That’s for eyelashes, you dork.”

“If my wife wants something, she shall not be limited by arbitrary things like eyelashes and shooting stars to wish on.” 

You sighed and unceremoniously puffed the confetti off his finger. 

“Go away.”

Under another snort of Asana, Tetsuro bowed and as he did, began walking away backwards. 

“As you wish.”

“That’s who you married.”, Asana pitied with a chuckle. 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Don’t remind me.”, sending both of you into another wave of silent laughter. 

“Miss L/N. Oh! Apologies, Mrs Kuroo. - Ha, that will take some getting used to.” Your boss sauntered over, causing Asana to quickly detach herself from your desk and return to her own seat, pretending to be busy while listening in, “I was just talking to your husband.” He unnecessarily waved in Tetsuro’s direction a few meters away, and he waved back with a wide smile, “I suggested to him that to properly celebrate these wonderful news, we should all go out tonight for a drink. And he told me to ask his wife for permission.” You threw a quick glare past your boss to Tetsuro, who was still waving idiotically. 

“Of course, sir. That… that sounds nice. Thank you very much.”

“Wonderful. I’ll make reservations right away. Don’t you worry about a thing!” And with that, he practically skipped away. 

It took about two more weeks for the excitement around the newlyweds to die down. Gradually, people stopped emphasizing your new surname or ooh-ing whenever you two went to lunch together, now awkwardly holding hands. Day by day, normalcy returned to the JVA headquarters and even casual closeness to Tetsuro came much easier to you. The performance was mutually dropped as soon as you left the company parking lot, and you hardly missed your apartment anymore - only when Tetsuro loudly sang in the shower. One Friday evening, you shuffled home alone, having had to work overtime for a project you were in charge of. After reassuring him you had it under control, you sent Tetsuro off to his workout routine, promising to meet him at home with dinner ready. For once, he spared you an overly teasing comment about how domestic this was of you and instead left with a simple, “Thank you. See you later, darling.”

You couldn’t wait to be home and slip into something more comfortable than the tight pencil skirt you wore today, the waistband of which always pressed uncomfortably into your handfuls of tummy chub, especially after spending so many extra hours hunched over proposals and schedules. Letting the sweatpants snap into place, you let out a happy sigh and made your way to his - to your - kitchen to see if you could find something to snack on while cooking. 

The string cheese was slowly getting hoovered into your mouth while you poured the marinade over Tetsuro’s beloved mackerel when keys jangled at the front door. 

“Kitchen!”, you called before he had a chance to look for you. Shoes were kicked off in the entryway and a moment later Tetsuro rounded the corner, taking a seat at the island. 

“I have good news and bad news.”, he said instead of a Hello.

“Oh no.”

“The good news is, I met Mr Maeda at the gym and can easily outlift him.”

You snorted, almost losing your cheese, and frowned. Your snack safely tucked in the corner of your mouth, you asked, “And the bad news?”

“He invited us to a double date with his wife.”

art: @freaka_loonyz on Instagram, X, Pinterest and TikTok

taglist: @etsuniiru @nocaffeineallowedtome @princessshart

a/n: Once again, thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for keeping me sane while working on this and for helping me edit.

[Part 3]

[sprintingowl]

Deadball

Deadball Second Edition is a platinum bestseller on DrivethruRPG. This means it's in the top 2% of all products on the site. Its back cover has an endorsement from Sports Illustrated Kids.

It's also not an rpg I'd heard about until I discovered all of these facts one after another.

I was raised in a profoundly anti-sports household. My father would say stuff like "sports is for people who can't think" and "there's no point in exercising, everything in your body goes away eventually." So I didn't learn really any of the rules of the more popular American sports until I was in my mid twenties, and I've been to two ballgames in my life. I appreciate the enthusiasm that people have for sports, but it's in the same way that I appreciate anyone talking about their specific fandom.

One of the things that struck me reading Deadball was its sense of reverence for the sport. Its language isn't flowery. It's plain and technical and smart. But its love for baseball radiates off of the pages. Not like a blind adoration. But like when a dog sits with you on the porch.

For folks familiar with indie rpgs, there's a tone throughout the book that feels OSR. Deadball doesn't claim to be a precise simulation or a baseball wargame or anything like that---instead it lays out a bunch of rules and then encourages you to treat them like a recipe, adjusting to your taste. And it does this *while* being a detailed simulation that skirts the line of wargaming, which is an extremely OSR thing to do.

For folks not familiar with baseball, Deadball starts off assuming you know nothing and it explains the core rules of the sport before trying to pin dice and mechanics onto anything. It also explains baseball notation (which I was not able to decipher) and it uses this notation to track a play-by-play report of each game. Following this is an example of play and---in a move I think more rpgs should steal from---it has you play out a few rounds of this example of play. Again, this is all before it's really had a section explaining its rules.

In terms of characters and stats, Deadball is a detailed game. You can play modern or early 1900s baseball, and players can be of any gender on the same team, so there's a sort of alt history flavor to the whole experience, but there's also an intricate dice roll for every at bat and a full list of complex baseball feats that any character can have alongside their normal baseball stats. Plus there's a full table for oddities (things not normally covered by the rules of baseball, such as a raccoon straying onto the field and attacking a pitcher,) and a whole fatigue system for pitchers that contributes a strong sense of momentum to the game.

Deadball is also as much about franchises as it is about individual games, and you can also scout players, trade players, track injuries, track aging, appoint managers of different temperaments, rest pitchers in between games, etc.

For fans of specific athletes, Deadball includes rules for creating players, for playing in different eras, for adapting historical greats into one massively achronological superteam, and for playing through two different campaigns---one in a 2020s that wasn't and one in the 1910s.

There's also thankfully a simplified single roll you can use to abstract an entire game, allowing you to speed through seasons and potentially take a franchise far into the future. Finances and concession sales and things like that aren't tracked, but Deadball has already had a few expansions and a second edition, so this might be its next frontier.

Overall, my takeaway from Deadball is that it's a heck of a game. It's a remarkably detailed single or multiplayer simulation that I think might work really well for play-by-post (you could get a few friends to form a league and have a whole discord about it,) and it could certainly be used to generate some Blaseball if you start tweaking the rules as you play and never stop.

It's also an interesting read from a purely rpg design perspective. Deadball recognizes that its rules have the potential to be a little overbearing and so it puts in lots of little checks against that. It also keeps its more complex systems from sprawling out of control by trying to pack as much information as possible into a single dice roll.

For someone like me who has zero background in baseball, I don't think I'd properly play Deadball unless I had a bunch of friends who were into it and I could ride along with that enthusiasm. However as a designer I like the book a lot, and I'm putting it on my shelf of rpgs that have been formative for me, alongside Into The Odd, Monsterhearts, Mausritter, and Transit.

[seacret-tarot]

☁️🌑 What are you not seeing clearly right now? What needs your attention? 🔮🔍

Pick a Pile - Tarot and Oracle Reading

1 2

3 4

Hello everyone~

Hope you got through the Eclipse(s) alright; I know I felt them 🙈 Today I got a timeless PAC for you about what you might not be seeing clearly or what could need more of your attention. I'll be using the Nameless One Tarot, the Oracle of Oddities and the Wild Unknown Archetypes Oracle. I'll also roll some dice for lucky or significant numbers/signs/houses/planets that can be taken as confirmation if you want (though they are not necessarily included in the interpretation of the reading). Please choose whatever picture you feel most drawn to.

Hope you enjoy your reading and thanks for stopping by!

[Disclaimer: Please use your own judgement when making any decisions based on a tarot reading. Magick and readings are meant to supplement, not replace professional advice. Since this is a general reading, only take what resonates with you – and at the end of the day, we all have free will and the power to shape our lives.]

Pile 1

cards: anxiety; the box (44); the jester of cups; 5 of cups; 9 of pentacles dice: number 8; 7th house/pisces/mercury

It looks like you might be ignoring - or downplaying - anxieties about the structures/constraints you find yourself in. We have a literal box here, with its borders multiplying and closing in on themselves more and more until there is almost no more room to move. But in the center something is still glowing, like a mini sun. What is it your keeping in? What is trying to shine but not being given enough room?

The number 44 - or 4 in itself - is also speaking of stability and rules and therefore alluding to the authority of the Emperor in Tarot, a figure that in a negative position can feel oppressing and overwhelming. You might feel like you can't live out your emotions in the way you want. Whether imposed on you by circumstances and upbringing (which it looks more like to me, with the bats attacking the flowers from outside in the anxiety card), or perpetuated by yourself now, any worries or negatively perceived emotions you might have are being shut down. Alternatively, if you're already aware of those limits, you might feel anxiety about how to deal with them, or how to deal with a balance between that restriction and what could be sensed as a threatening outpouring of emotion.

The Jester of Cups represents the water element and all water signs, and as a person stands for someone who is emotionally open, sensitive and playful. Perhaps there is a disappointment - or a sort of apathy, if you look at the cat's demeanor in the 5 of Cups - that you are quite literally looking away from, that you're maybe not allowing yourself to fully process. Some kind of hurt or loss could also contribute to the shutting off of emotions, if it feels like you could protect yourself through that. I think, though, that if you acknowledge your more emotional side in a healthy way again (or learn do that) and manage to nurture it and give it space - with the water and earth energies present here - you'll see that it will only lead to making your life richer in all regards.

Pile 2

cards: joy; the ring (57); ace of wands; 8 of cups; 9 of swords dice: number: 15; 8th house/capricorn/saturn

It might be time soon to wake up from your slumber and light a little fire in your life - joy is just around the corner! My personal association with the Ring card is the reminder that you have support from a friendly soul - whether in the material world or from somewhere else (or both!), depending on what you believe in. In the guidebook the ring speaks about interconnectedness and eternity, but also repetition. With the ring being so intertwined in itself and in connection with the Joy card, I think you're getting a notice here that positivity and a love for life will keep coming back to you again and again. You know the belief about how the love you pour out in the world will always come back to you (even multiplied)? That's what it's reminding me of.

Unfortunately that reminder might be very needed - you could recently have had a hard time dealing with fears and worries (9 of Swords), that left you feeling immobilized and isolated from that very world, and now you could be trying to find your way back in. If you're not out of your nightmare phase yet, there could also be a warning here to not keep falling into the same destructive cycles over again.

It's a hopeful sign to me, though, that the cat in the 8 of Cups card is sleeping so restfully, in comparison to the 9 of Swords. The traditional "walking away from disappointment" meaning of the 8 of Cups in Tarot is somewhat subvered here; whatever has happened throughout the cat's day, she's leaving it behind with a sound and guiltfree mind, resting as she deserves. So, it's time to walk away from what doesn't serve you and to find your peace - in order for you to gather the energy to kindle the flames of what you want to bring light to the world with, and find your spark of joy again.

Pile 3

cards: voice; the mother (1); 7 of wands; king of wands (aries); ace of pentacles dice: number: 5; 6th house/sagittarius/pluto

Whatever it is you're trying to do (whatever it is you're burning for even), there's a strong message here to keep going for it. The repeating 1s - in the Mother card, the Aries mention as the first sign in the Zodiac, the Ace of Pentacles - and fire - the 7 and the King of Wands - can often speak about manifesting energy or bringing something completely new into the world out of nothing. So, the reminder here might be to not fall into the temptation of putting your goals and passions on the backburner.

The Mother card represents the theme of manifestation quite literally - but I think she also warns to not get too cozy in her nest and rather become the manifestor yourself. The King of Wands is also a great representative of this kind of thinking and acting, as he's a master of transforming sparks of inspiration and ideas into tangible results and creations, of building something out of it. As a represent of Aries (the first sign, but also the first house) he is also all about action and being guided by your truest self. Getting into his mindset as well as embodying the 7 of Wands - protecting your creations - as a visualized goal should help a lot.

There is also quite literally visible growth; as you speak, as you find your authentic, genuine voice and live your truth from the heart, you will make something grow and speak it into the real world. Simultaneously, you are encouraged to plant the first seeds in the tangible matters of earthly successes to get the ball rolling.

Pile 4

cards: imagination; the mentor (6); 3 of cups; 8 of pentacles; 4 of wands dice: number: 9: 11th house/pisces/mercury

The cards here are actually making me wonder if you're a student or have been thinking of getting back into studying something. There's definitely a more youthful energy in this pile with the childlike skull in the Imagination card and a Mentor figure mentioned. The party themes of the 3 of Cups and the 4 of Wands, which speak about getting together with others and celebrating something, also remind me of initiation/graduation or college parties - friendships (3) are being built or strengthened, whereas the stability (4) of an endeavor is honored, maybe even ceremoniously.

On the other hand there's the stack of books in the 8 of Pentacles. It looks like it belongs to someone who's studying hard and probably will be returning soon to continue doing so. I do think there might be something you're currently dedicating a lot of time on in order to be able to perfect it eventually.

Whether you are formally in education or feverishly working on something else, I feel like the reminder in this pile is to let loose a bit, to let that childlike wonder and imagination meander in a more playful manner (note the heart at the center of the child's daydreams) and to seize opportunities for celebration or give them more space in your life or even create them yourself and nourish your friendships and family relations. Whenever you go back to your desk and roam through your books, you will likely still have support from a Mentor figure (material or not) watching over you and helping you accomplish your goals.

[thydungeongal]

I'm really interested in the mechanics of tabletops, which makes me want to know about the mechanics of disco elysium, but instead of a detailed mechanical analysis I can only (understandably!) find narrative commentary. As a Very Smart Cookie, I would love to hear what you have to say on topics such as... How does disco elysium work? What makes it different than other games? Is it *just* the quality of the writing? How do the mechanics synergize with the quality of the writing?

So okay, it's not just the quality of the writing, although to be fair; the writing is like really good.

But as for the mechanics: Disco Elysium is ultimately a video game. It is clearly inspired heavily by tabletop RPGs, even more so than most CRPGs are (like, Disco Elysium is pretty much a masterclass in terms of how well it manages to make a CRPG feel very close to a tabletop RPG in terms of player expression and the marriage of fiction and mechanics). Disco Elysium's actual game mechanics are not all that remarkable, but the game uses them in such a way that pretty much necessitates it being a video game.

At its core, Disco Elysium's resolution mechanic is based on a roll of two six-sided dice plus a skill rating, trying to roll greater than or equal to a target number determined by the difficulty of the action, and it uses a very traditional type of Pass/Fail method of determining results based on those rolls. It is, at the end of the day, unremarkable as a resolution mechanic. There is something to be said for the distribution of results on the 2d6 and how even a single plus can actually skew the probabilities in the player's favor and how this combined with the fact that the game makes various individual +1 bonuses from drugs and clothes and whatever easily available to the player is a great example of ludonarrative harmony. But ultimately the system isn't one that would exactly make tabletop enthusiasts hoot and holler.

But the game still uses that very simple mechanic effectively, not only because of the aforementioned stacking of bonuses (which is really easy to do in a video game but in a tabletop context often results in tedium) but also because the game is actually doing lots of hidden and rapid fire checks under the hood ALL THE TIME. When in a tabletop RPG you probably shouldn't want to stop the flow of a scene where everyone at the table is jamming and narrating together for the sake of rolling a knowledge check, Disco Elysium is doing that for you all of the time. That is something where the game is making the most out of the fact that it can offload that stuff to the program, to be handled in the background at a rapid fire pace.

There is definitely stuff that can be taken away from Disco Elysium for the sake of tabletop RPGs, but its prose is hard to imitate without sounding pretentious or insincere, and its mechanics would be hard to replicate in a tabletop format because they ultimately rely on a lot of book-keeping that may be tedious to do manually as well as doing LOTS of rolls in the background that could potentially introduce unnecessary friction into gameplay if replicated at the table.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Play D&D

As requested by @cool-original-username :)

Somehow, Dungeons & Dragons, the role-playing game, has arrived in the Cosmere, and now everyone is playing it. What would that be like?

1. Kaladin: Has THE most ridiculous good luck with dice

DM: Okay, Kaladin. You're up. You're the only member of your party still conscious, and you only have 3 hit points left. DM: Lord Evil is about to activate the doomsday device that will level the capital city. Your weapon is broken, and you're barely conscious. What will you do? Kaladin: ...I want to pick up a rock and throw it into the gears of the machine. DM: ...The machine that is 60 feet away from you with a fist-sized opening? Kaladin: Yes. DM: Well...you can roll for it, but...you'll have disadvantage... Kaladin: Nat 20. Twice. DM: A-Again?! I swear you save your Nat 20s for the most dramatic possible moments! Kaladin: Dice love me.

2. Kelsier: Always tries to fast-talk the DM

Kelsier: I would like to pick up the crowbar with my mage hand. DM: Okay... Kelsier: And I would like to drop it on the bandit's head. DM: You can't attack with mage hand. Kelsier: Attacking? I'm not attacking. I'm just dropping something. DM: As an attack. Kelsier: Well, okay. I'll just lift the crowbar high above the bandit's head with my mage hand. That's not an attack. DM: Okay... Kelsier: Then I'm gonna dismiss mage hand. DM: ... Kelsier: What happens to the crowbar? Does it...drop? DM: ... Kelsier: [smiles sweetly]

2. Lift: Needs a DM who likes open world campaigns...or who knows Lift real well

Wyndle, the DM: Excellent job, mistress! You've rescued the prince, and received a Royal Feast as a reward. Wyndle, the DM: What will you do now? Lift: I wanna go to Beach Town. Wyndle: Beach Town, the name I came up with on the fly five sessions ago? Lift: Yeah. Wyndle: The place where that one mean messenger said he was headed next? Lift: The one who kicked that dog, yeah. Wyndle: [grabs a notebook from his box and flips it open] Wyndle: Ready! Lift: ... Lift: You knew? Wyndle: I had a hunch, mistress!

3. Steris: Is a rules lawyer...for good

Steris: As we move through canyon, Lady Stesir will keep track of our progress by sketching a map. DM: Sure! Why don't you roll me an Intelligence check to see how good your mapping is. Steris: Actually, per the Players Handbook pg. 185, no ability check is required for mapping the party's progress through an area. DM: Really? Okay! Steris: [whispering] I got your back, Lady Stesir.

4. Blushweaver: Keeps rolling to seduce everyone

DM: The dragon rears back, preparing to unleash its fiery breath! Blushweaver: I roll to seduce the dragon!! DM: ... DM: Look, dragons are sentient, but they're generally not interested in... Blushweaver: I roll Persuasion with Expertise, add my Proficiency Modifier and my Charisma Modifier, plus my bonuses from Bless and Bardic Inspiration...and I get 32! DM: ... Blushweaver: I'm so excited about my new dragon boyfriend!

5. Shallan: Cares a LOT about character creation

Shallan: [sitting at the table with a full stack of character drawings, having used lightweaving to turn herself into a full-on Orc Barbarian] Adolin: [wearing "a bit of a jaunty hat" for his bard character] Adolin: ...I've never felt underdressed before.

6. Wayne: Loves to role-play

Wayne: And as Lord Bandlebutt falls to his knees in the rain, he thinks back to the last time he saw that flower, when his adoptive fox parents turned back for the last time before disappearing forever into those woods... Wayne: "I should have said something back then," Lord Bandlebutt whispers, "I should have told them some rocks smoothed by the stream wish they could have remained rough." Wayne: "After what happened during the Seven Snake Festival, they would have understood..." DM: [openly weeping] Oh, Lord Bandlebutt! Wayne: [normal voice, also weeping] I know, I know!

7. Vin: Wishes they could skip the whole "role-play" part

Vin: Okay, so my damage for that attack is 13. DM: With a mighty thrust of your longsword, you chop of the doppleganger's head and it falls to the ground! DM: You just killed someone who looks exactly like you--you're watching your own head roll across the ground toward your feet. DM: How does Lady Silverteeth feel in this moment? Vin: Uh Vin: ...Bad? DM: [Remembering to always match the player's level of comfort with role playing] Yeah, I bet she does.

8. Painter: Has THE most ridiculous bad luck with dice

DM: You see the vampire in the street below. You think she's following someone...perhaps her next victim. Painter: My Assassin will jump down from above and Sneak Attack her! I get a Advantage since it's my first attack, plus I have my new +2 dagger! Painter: My cloak will sweep back behind me as I land, soft as the night air, and plunge my dagger into her heart! DM: Roll first. Painter: Hi-yah! [dice clatter] DM: ... Painter: ... Painter: I assume I miss entirely and fall onto my butt? Into a puddle? DM: Into a puddle, yeah. Painter: ...Every [lowly] time.