#Tabletop Tuesday

[daniellethamasa]

Tabletop Tuesday: Gen Con Wrap Up

Get ready...it's a LONG post today, because we have a LOT to talk about. Gen Con was an incredible four days of gaming and geekery and we have a lot to say about our experience. Don't worry, there's lots of photos in the post too.

Hey all, Sam and David here. Okay, this might end up being a bit long. Well, at least it’s certainly going to be a whole bunch of photos, so I don’t think we’re going to take too long with the intro section. We’ve tried for the most part to divide things up day by day at Gen Con (with the exception of the Writer’s Symposium photo dump). It was a jam-packed four days of gaming and geekery and…

[randomtangle]

Hey! Found an old draft of mine, I never finished it. I might finish it later if I have the time, but I just thought… might as well post it! So, here you go!

Tabletop Tuesday: Konosuba: God’s Blessing on this Wonderful World TRPG

For this Tabletop Tuesday, I’d like to talk about Konosuba: God’s Blessing on this Wonderful World TRPG by F.E.A.R (Far East Amusement Research).

Setting

Konosuba is based upon the light novel series of the same name by Satō Natsume. I can’t say I’ve read that series, but luckily the book has a section on the setting. It’s a pretty simple fantasy isekai setting. Magical world, starter town is named “Axel”, there’s an Adventurers Guild, the Demon King is bad, there’s a clan of magic users called the “Crimson Magic Clan”.

Rules

The game runs on a purely d6 system, so don’t worry about dice. First, I’ll explain character creation.

Characters each have a race, a class, and seven ability scores, as well as skills and items. There’s also the optional cheats, which are powerful traits that can massively unbalance play.

First off, your race. There are three races: Reincarnated Person, Native Inhabitant and Crimson Magic Clan Member. When you choose your race, you get to select a racial skill. Reincarnated Persons can get bonuses to their equipment (gifted to them as a boon during their reincarnation), Native Inhabitants can get bonuses to their stats and Crimson Magic Clan Members can get bonuses to their magical abilities. Races also affect your ability scores.

Next, Classes. There’s 12 starter classes: Warrior, Priest, Wizard, Thief, Adventurer, Archer, Elemental Master, Creator, Swordfighter, Knight, Lancer and Rune Knight. Additionally, there are four Advanced Classes: Crusader, Arch-priest, Arch-wizard and Assassin. You can only choose them at CL (Character Level) 10, so don’t worry about them. Classes modify your ability scores, HP and MP, and give you some skills unique to your class to choose from. You get 5 levels worth of skills, and can start with class skill levels up to level 2. Pretty simple.

Now, Ability Scores. There are seven scores: Strength (STR), Dexterity (DEX), Agility (AGI), Intelligence (INT), Perception (PER), Mind (MND), and Luck (LUK). They do pretty much what you think they do. Strength is for strength, agility is for agility, mind is your willpower, etc.

Skills are the meat of this rules sandwich. They vary from passive traits to unique actions that modify your rolls. Skills can cost MP, have checks and ranges and targets. Spells are classified as skills.

Items are your equipment. You get 500 KE to spend on items. Classes may restrict equipment.

HP and MP are your health and magic. As mentioned before, MP is used for skills. Action points determine the order of action for characters. Movement is your movement.

Now, onto combat.

Conclusion

[orangerful]

Tabletop Tuesday: Viticulture, Essential Edition (Wine Crate)

Tabletop Tuesday: Viticulture, Essential Edition (Wine Crate)

I really enjoyed playing Viticulture on Board Game Arena these past few months, so when the Wine Crate with Viticulture World was announced a few months ago, I decided I was finally going to get the physical game for my collection. I’m so glad I did because I just adore it! In Viticulture, you are the owner of a vineyard in Italy. You start out small, with just three workers and a few lira,…

[discipleofmothra]

Some Chaff for my Turnip28 force. These guys are a mix of Wargames Atlantic Digital Bavarian Infantry, Edo Period Peasants, and random Arms and heads that I liked over the ages. I really like the straw cloak bits from the Edo peasants, they really add a nice flair while being thematic to the setting.

[catgirlboytits]

[unadulterated-tale]

Do you think it's possible for men and women to only be friends?

[strangerstilinski]

a little bit of Older!Eddie thirst on this monday night. 🥵

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

“-and anyway, all I’m saying is, you’re gonna get a lot more years outta your car if you bring it in to get an oil change every six months or so-”

It’s not that you don’t care about what he has to say, your lack of focus on his advice has entirely more to do with the way his thick fingers are curled around the pint of beer in front of him. The metal wrapped around the base several of his fingers clink softly every time the older man nervously drums them against the glass. All you can think about is those fingers in your hair, gripping the fat of your ass or your hips, stretching out your cunt in preparation for his cock.

Your stomach flips a little at the sight of his fingernails. Scrubbed clean of any of the oil or grime that had been wedged into his nail-beds when you’d first met a week ago at the auto body shop, the little patch sewn into his coveralls had blessed you with the name that you finally utter now.

“Eddie?” You interrupt sweetly, glossed lips pursing when his eyes snap to yours.

“Shit. Am I talking too much? I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” He rambles in distress, bringing ringed fingers up to scratch at the coarse stubble lining his jaw. “It’s just- When you asked me to get a drink, at first I kinda thought you were just angling for a discount on repairs, y’know? I mean, pretty thing like you? Actually wanting go out with this old mess? It seemed ridiculous, but- Well, now we’re here and you’ve already paid off the invoice for your car and I’m a little-”

“Eddie.”

His words cut off with a quiet clack as his teeth snap together, eyes searching your own in the dimly lit bar.

“I want you,” Your hand meets where his is wrapped around the sweaty pint glass, fingers hooking underneath his own as you guide your laced hands to rest on the sticky tabletop, “I.. really want you.” You repeat with a bit more emphasis, the words a little softer with vulnerability this time, a little more desperate.

“What, like-? Like right now?” Eddie is already looking around the bar with wide eyes before his gaze flicks back to you, question swimming in their brown depths, “Here?” He murmurs in quiet disbelief.

You give him a coy smile, long lashes blinking at him longingly, “Here.”

Eddie rises to his feet a bit clumsily, like perhaps his body was trying to respond to your words before his brain, “Shit. Fuck. Okay, sweetheart. If you’re sure, I mean. Uh, we.. We could.. Um-”

You're far too worked up to find his racing thoughts as endearing as you think that you normally would, “Eddie-”

He’s dragging you up from the other side of the booth in a flash, large hands falling to your waist as he begins to guide you through the desolate Tuesday night bar crowd with his chest pressed warmly to your spine.

“Just come with me, baby,” Eddie trips over a his own feet in his heavy boots and nearly takes you down with him, narrowly managing to keep his feet underneath himself as he tries to keep you from stumbling, “Shit, sorry-” He grumbles into your ear from behind, the huskiness of his voice and the warmth of his breath prompting a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Once the two of you have stumbled your way down the dark hallway at the back, you spin around to let your arms snake around his waist from behind. Eddie is fumbling with the sticky knob of the bathroom door, the hairs at the base of his tummy soft under your fingers and you can't help but dip your hand beneath his waistband where the hair spreads further.

“Shit-” Eddie fumbles with the door when your fingertips just graze the base of his cock, the skin silky smooth under your palm as you push a little further so you can wrap your small hand around him, “Oh, you're a f-fucking.. menace, aren’t you? N-not so sweet after all.” He tells you, not an ounce of bite to his words, more of a groan of approval than anything.

Your only response is to press your lips to the side of his throat beneath his wild mane of curls, snapping a small nip of your teeth against the curve of his shoulder as you work your hand torturously slow on his cock.

Distracted by your touch, Eddie swings the door open with with a bit too much enthusiasm. He dives forward to catch it before it can collide with the dirty porcelain sink on the inside wall and only narrowly gets a hold of it in time.

As soon as the door is secured behind you again, you're dropping to your knees in front of him. Your mouth finds the soft pudge of his tummy, and metal and leather clink and slap beneath your quick hands as you work his belt and get his jeans open enough to tug out his cock. It springs up as it's released, half hard already and bobbing in front of you like it's taunting you for just how badly you want him. His cock is gorgeous — average length but thick and beautifully curved just a bit to the right.

You hungrily eye the tip where he's flushed dark pink, shiny and dribbling just the tiniest bit already, shining in the hazy light coming from the exposed lightbulb in the ceiling.

Eddie lets out a groan as you take him in your hand again and lick at his tip, savoring the small beads of precome that meet your tongue. You hum at the salty tang of them, dragging your mouth down the length of him, tracing the soft vein along the underside of his cock with your lips and tongue.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie moans, his hand finding it's way into your loose hair nearly immediately. He doesn’t pull, he doesn’t push, his hands are entirely too gentle. His fingertips pet soft at your head like he’s praising you already and you’ve hardly even started, “You.. Baby girl, you don't have to-”

You lean back from where you'd been swirling your tongue around the head, giving his length a couple of short tugs as you look up at him through your lashes with a huff, “Mm, and maybe I want to. You ever think of that?”

He balks, hips jerking minutely and incidentally thrusting his cock toward your pouting lips, “I.. Um-”

“Maybe I’m a young, confident woman who knows what she wants. And maybe I want to suck you off. Did that not cross your mind? Hm? That maybe I might like having your dick in my mouth?” You continue, voice dropping a few octaves.

A soft gasp turned groan falls from the older man’s lips when you lean back in to suck lightly at the tip and the sound has your thighs clenching together against the wave of arousal that curls in your tummy.

“Do you?” Eddie can’t help but ask, the question coming out a quiet groan, “Like it?”

“Mhm,” You hum around him, pushing further down his length to take in more of him, letting him feel the way your throat constricts around the head of his cock when you gag before pulling all the way off again, “Love it.”

“I just thought- Pretty thing like your shouldn’t have t- God. I, uh. You.. Shit. You’re certainly ohmygod- g-good at it.” He struggles to get his words out when you take him back between your lips, but then he’s huffing a quiet sigh of distress when you remove the warm heat of your mouth from his length once again.

“Good..?” You repeat in question.

“Wh- Huh?”

Eddie is blinking down at you dumbly, his hand flexing in your hair as he tries to clear his head. It's infuriatingly sexy.

“I’m on my knees for you in a dirty bar restroom and I’m ‘good’ at sucking your dick? It's.. ‘Good?’” You say the word with distaste, one eyebrow ticking up on your forehead in challenge as you place his tip back against your lower lip teasingly. You let it rest there, one hand coming up to his waist to keep his hips from jutting forward as you part your lips and let a warm breath wash over the wet head of this cock.

“Shit, sweetheart. Did I say good? I meant great! I, uh, phenomenal! M-mindblowing fuck-” He moans loud around the word when you reward him by taking him into your mouth again.

You let him rest heavy on your tongue, sucking and bobbing your head in slow drags while he sighs out a desperate little sound at the feeling.

“Fuck. You- You’re perfect, baby girl. You have to know that. An angel. Gotta know how much you’re- Ohh-”

The surprised groan that cuts him off has you soaked beneath your panties, moaning around his length in response.

“-How much you’re rockin’ my world right now.” He finishes weakly.

You pull off to give him an amused smile, jerking him in earnest with one hand and wiping spit from your lips with the other, “Oh, I rock your world, huh, old man?” You tease.

“God damn it,” Eddie breathes the words, dragging you up by your shoulders until you’re standing in front of him again, “You really are a little brat, aren’t you?”

But his mouth is on yours before you can respond, beer coated tongue breaking through the seam of your lips, a wide palm and fingers covered in cool rings encasing the back of your neck as he leads you just a few steps backward, until your spine is hitting the door.

Your keening moan is lost in the kiss, and as life-changing as his cock and fingers and mouth prove to be that evening, it’s his whispered words of praise and the sweet kisses he presses to your hair as he catches his breath at the end of it all that truly ruin you for anyone else.

As it turns out, the older mechanic who fixed up your car? Eddie? He’s kinda it for you.

[studiousbotanist]

I'm so lucky Jaces hair has been mostly covering his hibiscus tattoo xus I keep fuckijg forgetting it

[thedailydungeonmaster]

A Player's Perspective - Episode 5 & 6

A Player’s Perspective – Episode 5 & 6

Dear Readers, I know it’s been quite awhile since my last update, but as we play this once a month, I don’t have anything to update you on but that frequently. That said, our GM for Kids on Bicycles game has had some family health issues lately that caused some delays in our playing. To catch up, I’m going to detail out episodes 5 and 6. When last we left off with the Arkham Arcanes, they had…

[rosanacafe]

Tellin the Time por Rosana Off until the first days of June Por Flickr: For Crazy Tuesday: "Numbers" Lensbaby Edge 80 + Macro converters

[lo-vearchive]

Forgive Me (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: After reconciling in your bedroom, Miguel disappears on you for a week. Giving up on any hopes of romance, your friends plan a night out for you to cheer up. Too bad your boss makes an appearance and catches you with an attractive stranger on a stormy night. Read Part One: here

Word Count: 4463 words

Content: Miguel being a rude bastard, Miguel asking for forgiveness (again), arguments, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, tobacco consumption, 18+ (minors DNI), no p in v but things get spicy at the end, female fingering, finger sucking, misogyny, insecurity, swearing, hurt and comfort, office sex (no p in v), questionable Spanish

Note: ANGST! Got carried away once again. Lowkey not proofread. I love angst and Miguel being vulnerable.  If you are into angst, you will enjoy this. Feel free to correct my Spanish and ask for any other cw to be added. Thank you for the 1K+ notes on Pt. 1. Have fun, horndogs ;)

It has been seven days since you last saw Miguel O’Hara.

After spending a full 48 hours by your side, he had gone back to work. You decided to join him at Alchemax the next day but found his office empty. At first, you thought he was occupied with Spider-Man business, so you kept yourself busy with answering his overflowing email box. Slowly the sun set behind the skyline of Nueva York and the messages ran out, leaving behind a feeling of uneasiness in your stomach.

 You [sent Friday, 6 pm]: Hey, are you coming to work today?

You [sent Friday, 10 pm]: I’m going home for the night. Call me when you are home. I miss you :)

You [sent Saturday, 5 am]: Are you okay?

You [sent Saturday, 1 pm]: I’m getting really worried. Where are you?

You [sent Saturday, 5 pm]: I emailed you in case you lost your phone. Call me asap.

You [sent Sunday, 7 pm]: I’ll see you at work tomorrow.

You [sent Monday, 9 am]: Lyla said you’re okay but won’t tell me what’s going on. Says I don’t have clearance. Please call me.

You [sent Monday 10 am]: Are you actually ignoring me?

You [sent Tuesday, 1 am]: My best friend you’re an asshole and I should never let you near my pussy ever again.

You [sent Tuesday 1:23 am] Are you ghosting me? You know we work together, right?

You [sent Tuesday, 3:30 am]: I hate you Miguel O’Hara.

 Friday rolled around and your best friend had enough of your drunk late-night facetime calls. She gathered a group of your high school girlfriends and decided a night out in the town would be the perfect remedy. “Fuck him, babe,” Katy states, sliding a shot glass across the table. “You should report him to HR for being an ass.”

You laughed and tipped the glass into your mouth. The tequila burnt its way down your throat. “I’m just going to find a new job. I can’t be dealing with this shit right now.”

Your friend Soo let out a burp. “Did you let him hit it?”

You shake your head. “No,” you cough. “We came close to it, like above the pants stuff— do you think that’s why he’s ignoring me? Because I didn’t put out right away?”

“Bitch,” Katy chides, slapping the tabletop, “be fucking for real. You look like a busty, hot secretary from some comic book. He should be lucky you let him touch your tits!”

Your friends nodded along in agreement. Katy grabs the sides of your chair and spins it around, facing you to the restaurant bar. “You see that guy there?” she points at a man with messy blond hair in an open-collar white shirt. “He’s been eyeing you all night. Go talk to him right now.”

The tequila must have heightened your bravery as you found yourself walking across the dimly lit restaurant and to the wall. Stealing a glance at him from the corner of your eye, you ask the bartender for, “a rum and coke please.”

“You can add her drink to my tab,” the man says just like you hoped he would. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw your friends fussing over you earlier and you looked like you needed a drink.”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, letting out a laugh. “You’re right, I do need a little pick-me-upper tonight.”

“My name is John,” he says.

You introduced yourself and slide in the empty seat next to him. “So, what’s going on with you?” he questions, sipping his beer.

You carefully lift your drink from the bar top and circled the rim with your index finger. “I’m not sure if I wanna’ trauma dump on a stranger.”

“Sometimes talking to strangers helps.”

You contemplate his words and sigh. Your friends would kick you if you said the name Miguel O’Hara again in their general vicinity. You chose to divulge a little to the mystery man. “Things got a bit complicated with someone I really cared about. Everything was going well and then he disappeared suddenly, and I don’t know why.”

John listens to you carefully, nodding to himself. “You know what I do when I’m confused?”

“What?”

“I take a smoke break to chill out,” he answers, standing up. “Care to join me?”

You downed the contents of your glass and follow him out a door that open to a back alley behind the restaurant. Rain pours down heavily, and you both huddle under a dingy metal shed. The cold air bites your arms sharply as John lights the end of his cigarette and brings it to his mouth. “It can be frustrating when you’re left without answers but a girl like you has nothing to worry about.”

You smile at his words. You take the cigarette off his hand and take a drag. The smoke fills your lungs, making your head spin a little. The light-headedness reminds you of how you felt last time when Miguel was in your arms. Airy, free, and light. No matter what you do, all your thoughts lead back to him. You shake away the memories and pass the cigarette back to John.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” a stern voice asks.

A man melts out of the shadows in the alley and into the light shining from a streetlamp above. You recognize him. “Miguel?”

He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes focused on John. “Who is he?” he asks with a deep frown.

“Listen, I’m off work right now,” you clear your throat, sticking your nose up in the air. “I don’t have to explain—”

“Look, man,” John interrupts, “no need to get all worked about this. We are just talking.”

Miguel lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, right,” he spits and gets in his face. “You could have done that at the bar. Why the fuck are you out here alone with her? What were you planning on doing?”

“Mr. O’Hara!” you exclaim, stepping in between them. “You are out of line!”

He raises his eyebrows at your formality but keeps his attention on John over your shoulder.  “Buddy,” John says, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving you to the side. “She is allowed to talk to whoever she wants. I suggest you leave us alone now.”

The touch doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. His nostrils flare and his eyes turned red with anger. He steps closer to John until he is looming over the poor man. You often forget how big your boss is compared to everyone around him. The scene looks almost comical with how John tries to puff out his chest. “Te calmas o te calmo,” (Calm yourself, or I’ll calm you down) Miguel snarls.

Whatever John sees in his face is enough to make him reconsider. He holds his hands up in surrender and backs away slowly. Stopping in front of you he pushes the half-burnt cigarette into your hand and whispers, “If this is the guy you were talking about, then maybe it’s a good thing he disappears. I’ll be inside if you still want to talk.”

He walks away from the alley and into the restaurant, leaving you with Miguel alone in the alley. You watch in silence as his body trembles, and you can’t tell if it’s from anger or the rain hammering away at his back.

He breaks the silence. “So, you’re letting strangers into our private business?”

You snort loudly. “You don’t get to speak to me like that,” you tell him, taking another drag. “Especially after disappearing on me. You can’t just strut back into my life and tell me who I can confide in.”

“I was tending to some urgent matters,” he says, brushing his wet hair away from his forehead. “So I took the time to handle them. I can’t be around you every second of the day acting as your lap dog.”

The heat from the cigarette burns your skin. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you raise your voice, throwing your hands in the air. “You’re acting like I want you on a leash! I just wanted to know you were okay.”

“Clearly I’m okay,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

Your lips tug into a deep scowl at his tone. “Did you ever stop to consider how your actions affected me? How lost and confused I felt waiting by the phone every day?”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Miguel matches your tone. “You know I am a busy man, and that I have responsibilities. But you’d rather live in some fantasy land where I’m just some monster out to hurt you! You can’t begin to understand the weight I carry on my shoulders.”

Anger surges through your body. “How am I supposed to understand when you don’t tell me anything? Hell, your AI knows more about you than I do. It’s like you only care about missions or work and nothing else—”

“Sometimes in life, personal matters have to take a backseat,” he cuts you off, harshly. “Not everyone can put on a short skirt and high heels, waltz into work, type a few memos and then call it a night.”

“You misogynist fuck!” You scream back at him, resisting the urge to slap him silly. “I hate you!”

“I hate you too!” he yells back in your face with bloodshot eyes.

You spin on your heels and begin walking towards the main road. Rage begins to bubble inside you and reaches your throat. You turn around just as you reach the sidewalk and call out, “You know what? It doesn’t matter if you disappear again because I have hated you since the moment I met you. I hated you when everyone at work warned me about you. I hated you all those times you dismissed me like an afterthought. And I hated you when you came to my room that night begging for a second chance. So, I don’t care if you hate me, or think I’m useless or unimportant cause have hated you longer and harder and for better fucking reasons!”

You take another drag from the cigarette and then crush it underneath your pretty high heels. You make a right at the end of the alley and begin walking up the street. Warm tears spill down your face as you shiver in the rain. Katy was right, he was an asshole. An asshole that made you feel dumb for having a normal job or human emotions. But maybe you were just an idiot for falling in love with a man who didn’t respect you. Love wasn’t supposed to be this hard, but here you were feeling small and crying at the side of the road.

The sound of screeching tires brings you out of your self-pity. A sleek black car pulls up on the other side of the road and the passenger window rolls down. Miguel’s face emerges from behind the glass. “Ven aquí!” (come here) he calls out.

You ignore him and keep walking ahead. You have no idea where you are going, but you would rather eat rocks than speak to him.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Miguel make a sharp left, almost hitting oncoming traffic and pulling up beside you. “Get in the car!”

Your feet don’t stop moving so he slowly inches his car to match your speed. “Estoy harto. (I’m sick of this) Let’s talk!”

Honks and yells filled the night as people grew frustrated with his speed. “Stop,” you hiss, bending down to the window. “You are embarrassing me!”

“Get in the car then,” he says, with a clenched jaw. “You’re gonna’ catch a cold in the rain.”

“Stop pretending like you care,” you snarl, kicking the side of his car.

“A-YO LADY!” a man yells out of his yellow cab. “Get in the damn car! Your boyfriend is holding up traffic!”

A pleased smirk spread across Miguel’s face at the man’s remarks. You let out a frustrated grunt and yanked the door open, slipping into the passenger seat. “Put your seatbelt on,” he says, picking up speed.

You begrudgingly obey but wished that his car would get rear-ended so hard that his fat head would go through the windshield. “You look like you want me dead, babe,” he commented with a nervous laugh.

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, adjusting the belt over your soaking dress. “Where are we going?”

“Back to Alchemax,” he points at the GPS screen. “The freeway flooded, and it will be a while until it clears up. I have a spare set of clothes I keep in the office for overnighters. You can change while we wait for the storm to blow over.”

“I don’t want your charity,” you grumble, crossing my hand over my chest.

“I know,” he says. “I just want to take care of you.”

You disliked how your stomach felt at his words. “I left my bag behind at the restaurant.”

“I picked it up, it’s in the back seat.”

“I didn’t pay my tab.”

“It’s taken care of. Your friends know you’re fine, too. Just relax.”

Miguel leans over to turn your seat warmer on and warmth spreads across your chest and down your limbs. He drives in silence with only the soft white noise of radio static playing in the background. Occasionally you tear your gaze away from the furiously working windshield wipers and steal glances at his face. The headlights from other cars make the slopes of his cheek and the plumpness of his lips visible even on a stormy night. His warm complexion has turned pale, and you ponder if it was because of your interaction earlier.

You both pull up into the Alchemax parking lot and get out of the car. The security team must be watching through the cameras, wondering why one of their lead engineers was coming into work late at night with his drenched secretary. You quickly follow him into the elevator and up to the floor with his office. He opens the office door, and you slide inside into the dark space.

“Lyla,” he calls out and the room illuminates on command. “Lights.”

Miguel walks up to a storage cupboard and retrieves a towel in one hand and fresh clothes in the other. He passes them to you, and you quietly enter the adjacent washroom to change. You peel your damp dress off your skin and shiver as the chilly air hits you all over. Rubbing the towel quickly over your cold skin, you slip into an oversized t-shirt and shorts. It takes two knots of the drawstring, but you manage to keep the waistband tied around your naval.

You find Miguel waiting for you outside. He had changed into a shirt that hugged his slender waist and pants that hung dangerously low under his taut stomach. He pulls the towel out of your hand and drapes it over your head. His hands gently rub the threads against your wet hair in soft, circular motions. You lean into his touch involuntarily. “I can do it myself,” you complain but made no move to reach for the fabric.

“I know,” he replies. “I want to do it for you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re doing that thing again,” you said, “and it’s messing with my head.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you start acting kind after being mean,” you explain in a small voice. “I don’t like it. It’s confusing”

He tugs the towel back so you can look into each other’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he speaks, gently. “I just lost my shit when I saw you with him.”

“You cut off all contact when all I wanted was to know if you were okay,” your voice shakes as you stare at your feet. “You left me all alone, what was I supposed to do? Wait for you to change your mind?”

“I know I messed up, baby. I was wrong” he sighs, inching down his forehead to meet yours. “I should have communicated with you, but sometimes on missions, things get complicated. I don’t always like the things I have to do, and recently I’m having a difficult time making peace with it. It’s like the harder I try to do the right thing, the more damage I do. So sometimes, it’s just better to be alone rather than pretend I’m okay around other people.”

His words hurt your heart. You knew that his missions take a toll on him. In the past whenever you tried to inquire about its contents he wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t push, afraid that he’d pull away, but it seems that he was pulling away regardless.

“When you’re gone,” you clear your throat, trying to speak through your narrowing trachea, “I worry that you might be laying dead in some universe, and I’d be none the wiser. I know that being Spider-Man is a sacrifice, but I don’t care about the world. I only care about you. So, when you treat me this way, it’s like I can’t breathe.”

He cups your face and places a soft kiss right on your cheekbone “Forgive me.”

“You say that a lot,” you remind him with a frown.

“I know,” he nods, “and I still mean it. I’m just an idiot who doesn’t know how to find the balance in life. I love that you care about me, and I want you to continue caring about me.”

“I don’t know, Mr. O’Hara,” you said. “I can’t ignore the way you speak to me at times. It feels as if you think we’re not equals. I am not some idiot. I am not beneath you just because I work under you.”

He groaned at the sound of his last name. Every time you called him that, it made the space between feel bigger. “I have seen a million universes, nena, (babe) and you are not beneath me in any of them,” he curls a damp strand behind your ear, “Unless we are in bed, then you’re definitely under me.”

“Miguel!” you chide, punching him in the stomach. “No es broma! (It’s not a joke) I’m being serious!”

He lets out an oof and backs away. His fangs poke out from underneath his curled lips and in that moment, he looks as carefree. He wraps his large hands around your arms and holds your attention. “I know broken trust isn’t easily mendable, but I’m going to try my hardest. I won’t leave you out in the dark or make you feel small. I’ll think twice before I open my stupid mouth. I’ll even ask Lyla to give you full access to my missions. Wh-when you see what I have to do- what I must do, please don’t hate me.”

“Miggy,” you pout, reaching for his face. “I was really, really angry when I said those things to you. I can never hate you. My heart won’t let me.”

His toothy grin appears again, and Miguel draws you into him. His smooth lips find yours and he cranes your head back to find the angle that leaves you breathless. You run the pads of your thumb gently across the slopes of his cheeks. It never ceased to surprise you that his skin was so soft under his stubble. Without breaking your kiss, your shuffle back and walk him to his desk chair. You smile into his lips as he shakes his head when you move him back and down to sit. His hands wrap around your wrists. “D-don’t leave,” he cries out.

You shake your head and take a seat on his lap with your legs dangling off the side. Miguel’s hands find your jaw and he turns your mouth to his. You wrap your fingers in his hair and tug him closer. You let out a content hum as his fangs softly dig into your lips, breaking the skin. The taste of metal fills your mouth, and you pull away to look at him. He sits in your embrace, with red-stained lips and is just as breathless. “Sorry,” he sheepishly says. “I usually have them under control. It’s just you’re in my office and in my clothes. It’s making my head spin a little.”

You laugh at his words and gently pull his hair back. Pressing a wet kiss to his exposed throat you ask, “Miggy, how come we haven’t had sex yet?”

“Honestly?” he lets out a choked moan.

“Honestly,” you hum, licking his jaw.

His hands suddenly grab you by the elbows and spin you around on his lap, so his chest is facing your back. His warm breath hits the nape of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. “I haven’t fucked you yet because once I’m inside you,” he whispers into your ear, “I’ll never want to be anywhere else. I wouldn’t want to eat, sleep, work, or be Spider-Man. I think I’ll just want to stay buried in you all the time.”

“Miguel,” you moan, clutching your thighs together.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “Don’t hide from me.”

His large hand slips between your thighs and pushes your legs apart. He turns the chair around until you’re both facing his work desk. “Up,” he commands, slapping the side of your thighs.

You gingerly obey and place your bare feet on the edge of his desk. His hands slip under your shirt, and he fumbles with the knot. Impatient with the knots, he uses a sharp claw to cut through the drawstring. Your breath hitches as he pushes the loose shorts down your legs and off your feet. He wraps his fingers behind your knees and draws your legs apart. He puts his chin over your shoulder and bunches your shirt up to get a good look at your pink underwear. “Baby,” he coos. “You gotta’ let me have this once we are done. A little souvenir for when I’m away.”

Your stomach tightens at his suggestion. You glance at him and then the office door,. “Someone will see us,” you nervously gulp.

“You let me worry about that,” he says and presses a kiss to the side of your forehead, “and just relax. I’m not gonna’ let anyone else see my girl spread out like this.”

He runs his knuckles down your bare stomach and across the clothed cunt. Electricity shoots up your body and you almost curl up in his arms. Miguel’s fingertips find a quickly dampening spot on the fabric. “Huh,” he huffs. “Is this me or rainwater?”

You cry, arching into his touch.

“I guess it’s just me,” he grins against your shoulder.

He slides your underwear off your legs and tosses it on the table. It lands on a pile of paperwork you had put aside from him earlier in the week. Miguel stops breathing at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy. A loud moan escapes your throat as his fingers part your folds and glide back and forth. You were sure that the security guards patrolling this floor would have heard you down the hallway. You almost miss his question over the sensations of pleasure spreading through your body.

“Do you want my finger inside you?”

You nod against his cheek and reach behind to clutch a fistful of his hair to brace for impact. He lowers his down until his thick, middle digit is nudging your opening. You must have been soaking his thighs with how easily his digit sinks inside. You bit your lip harshly to contain the sounds threatening to escape your mouth. It’s your turn to hold your breath when Miguel’s other hand begins to stroke your clit. Once, twice, thrice.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You clench around my finger every time I flick your clit.”

Not that you needed proof, but Miguel does it again and you shake with pleasure. “See?” he gasps, and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss.

He he pulls back to hold your eyes and you breathe his shaky breaths in. You close your eyes and imagine how it would look to hold his hard cock in your hands while he played with your pussy. He tears you away from your fantasy by hooking his fingers inside on an angle. You almost arch completely off his lap. He moves his free hand away from your clit and presses you back into him. His hard bulge pressed into your ass.

“Here?” Miguel moans and licks your lips. “Tell me where? Right here? Ah, here.”

His fingers find that spot again and he massages his fingers against it. You nod furiously and my hands move to claw forearms. He softly bites your shoulder in retaliation and his free hand resumes working against your clit, picking up rhythm. “Can I put another finger inside?” he asks, breathing hard. “I promise it will feel good.”

“Oh-kay,” you gasp, rocking your hips on his hand.

His index finger slithers into your pussy, and you forget how to speak. You begin to twist and turn in his lap. He pulls away from your clit to press down hard against your stomach so he can keep you in place. You slide your ass over his crotch with every movement of his fingers.

“Mig-Mig-Mig,” you pant, moving your hips to his set rhythm.

“Good? I bet that feels so good.”

“Gah—”

He presses soft kisses onto your cheek as you sink into his arms. You begin to tighten further around him. You realize that this is exactly how you always want to be—full of Miguel’s fingers, touch, and love. His tongue slips into your mouth as his fingers begin curling into you faster. Your moans and groans echo through the office. His left hand leaves your stomach and reaches for your clit again. It takes seven swipes, one for each day he left you alone, for you to seize around his finger. His mouth never leaves yours as he drinks all of your pleasurable cries.

Slowly, the current leaves your body and you’re able to take in your surround. Your cheeks burn with realization. Miguel had just fingered you open on his desk at your workplace. The very same desk you set up for him every morning. Your fingers slide up to his hair and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t be shy now,” he chuckles, “One day I’ll fuck you all over this office, nena.”

You shriek and lightly slap his arm. Miguel gently slides his fingers out of your cunt, eliciting a soft groan, and brings his to his mouth.

He hums with eyes closed at the taste. “You taste so good,” he mumbles around his fingers.

“Ugh,” Lyla gags at a distance. “Be glad I activated noise cancellation.”

A/N: Thoughts?

[daniellethamasa]

Mid Year Book Freakout Tag (2023 Edition)

It's been a while since I've done a blog book tag, so let's go ahead and do that today...even better since it's the Mid Year Book Freakout Tag. Check it out as I talk about the highs and lows of my reading so far this year!

[randomtangle]

Tabletop Tuesday: Stars Without Number by Kevin Crawford

For this Tabletop Tuesday, I’d like to talk about the TTRPG Stars Without Number by Kevin Crawford.

Setting

SWN is a spacefaring sci-fi TTRPG set in the distant future. On Earth in 2108, the spike drive, a device that allows faster-than-light travel, was invented. Soon humanity became a spacefaring race, colonizing space in an era called the First Wave.

In 2240, some children started to develop something called “Metadimensional Extroversion Syndrome”, or MES, which allowed them to channel metadimensional energy with their minds; Psionics.

Psionics were quickly harnessed and used to advance humanity, leading to pretech and psitech, highly advanced technology thrusting humanity forth with their colonial efforts. The Jump Gates, massive rings powered by choirs of psychic teleporters, allowed humanity to spread further than they previously could.

But the Second Wave wouldn’t last. In 2665, a massive wave of metadimensional energy swept over all of human space, and all psychics were killed or driven to madness. The Scream was followed by the Silence, the Jump Gates inoperable, the colonies cut off from the core worlds, humanity fell quiet.

The game take 600 years after the Silence, as humanity begins to pick itself up again.

Rules

SWN is modeled after old-school TTRPGs like those crafted by the old TSR crowd.

Characters have six attributes: Strength (Str), Dexterity (Dex), Constitution (Con), Intelligence (Int), Wisdom (Wis) and Charisma (Cha). To determine them, you either roll 3d6 and assign them in order, then if you want change one number to 14, or you can use the array of 14, 12, 11, 10, 9, 7 assigned as you wish. The score of the attribute determines its modifier (mod), which is used in skill checks, attack rolls, and saving throws.

A character has three saving throws: Physical (15 minus better mod of Str or Con), Mental (15 minus better mod of Wis or Cha), and Evasion (15 minus better of Dex or Int).

Characters also have a background, which you use to determine your skills. Skills and backgrounds are pretty simple, the only thing you should know is that skills have levels which you use to add to checks along with the pertinent attribute modifier. There are also psychic skills, which I will get into later.

Then you have your character’s class. There are three classes: Warrior, Expert, and Psychic, as well as the fourth class, Adventurer, which is more of a special group of dual-classes (Warrior/Psychic, Expert/Warrior, Psychic/Expert). There’s more classes in expanded material but we needn’t get into that here.

Warriors have and extra 2 Hit Points (HP) and a 1st level attack bonus of +1, get one extra level in a combat-related focus (I’ll get into that later) and once per scene (encounter) as an Instant action, they can turn a missed attack roll into a hit.

Experts get one extra level in a non-combat-related focus, and upon leveling up get a bonus skill point to spend on any non-combat, non-psychic skill. Once per scene, Experts can reroll a failed skill check.

Psychics are able to learn psychic disciplines and techniques, and get two psychic skills as bonus skills (you can pick the same skill twice to make it level-1). Psychics have an Effort score equal to 1 plus their highest psychic skill level, plus the better of their Wis or Con mods, with a minimum of 1 Effort.

Adventurers are a mix of two classes, and thus get abilities depending on the classes they partially belong to.

Partial Warriors get a free level in combat focus, a +1 attack bonus at 1st and 5th level, and +2 HP per level.

Partial Experts get a free level in a non-combat focus, and an extra skill point each level for a non-combat, non-psychic skill.

Partial Psychics get one psychic discipline as a bonus skill at level-0, and cannot learn or improve any other psychic skill. They have an Effort score equal to 1 plus their psychic skill level, plus the greater of their Wis or Con mods.

Now, Foci. Each character gets one focus during creation. A focus is a particular trait or talent of the character that sets them apart. Foci have levels which determine how powerful they are. Some foci are ones like Die Hard (makes it tougher for the character to be killed) or Sniper (makes certain shooting attacks more deadly).

Before we go to equipment, let’s talk Psionics.

Psionics are an important part of SWN. Psychics and Partial Psychics can harness metadimensional energy to use in a variety of ways, divided into the six disciplines. Each discipline is represented with a psychic skill that the Psychic must train. Within these disciplines are many techniques which are what Psychics actually do in the game rules. Techniques are powered by Effort, which is Committed to a technique for the time specified, ranging from just for a moment to the entire day. It returns after the technique is completed. If a Psychic runs out of Effort, they can Torch, which gives them an extra Effort point for the rest of the scene, but often at the permanent detriment to their attribute scores. Here are the six psychic disciplines:

Biopsionic techniques deal with living creatures. They can heal and repair as well as harm and debilitate.

Metapsionic techniques alter the Psychic’s other techniques and power over psychic energy itself.

Precognitive techniques deal with prediction of future events and the altering of them.

Telekinetic techniques manipulate matter, and are often useful and powerful in combat.

Telepathic techniques concern those of mind-reading, brainwashing and thought broadcasting.

Teleportative techniques move matter from one place to another nigh-instantaneously, once used in the Jump Gates.

Now, onto equipment. You can either choose an equipment package (preselected equipment, useful for quickly-made characters) or receive 2d6x100 credits to spend. Equipment will be extremely important to our next topic: Scenes.

Scenes are times in the game where the GM might require the players to roll some dice, either as saving throws, skill checks or as part of combat.

Saving throws are easy enough. When the GM requires a saving throw, you roll 1d20 and try to beat or match the given score, usually your pertinent saving throw, possibly modified if the GM so wishes.

To make a skill check, you must roll 2d6 and try to beat or match the check’s difficulty, set by the GM. You can add your pertinent attribute mod and skill level to the check. If an ally attempts to help, they make a check too (it doesn’t have to be the same, negotiate with your GM), and if they succeed, they add +1 to your check.

Combat is a bit more complicated. First, everyone rolls 1d8 for initiative, adding their Dex mod. This determines the order of actions of the round, highest goes first, lowest goes last. One side of the conflict might be surprised, depending on the situation, in which they do not act for that round.

In the round, on your turn, you can take one Main Action and one Move Action, as well as any amount of On Turn Actions. Instant Actions may be taken anytime, any amount of times. Main actions are your typical attacks and skill checks. Move actions concern movement, On Turn actions are quick but only on your turn, such as dropping to the floor or dropping an item, and Instant actions are your split-second reflexes.

Attacking requires an attack roll to hit. To do so, you roll 1d20, modified by your attack roll bonus or other modifier determined by your GM. If you match or beat the required score, you hit the target and deal damage, determined by whatever you are attacking with.

There are more rules to speak of, such as Hacking and Starships but most are either variations of the rules shown above, or are GM rules I needn’t list here.

Conclusion

Stars Without Number is a game that is easy to get into, with its fairly simple rules, and quite freeing to run, drawing from the old-school TTRPGs many adore. I would highly suggest checking it out. There’s a free copy available legally online!

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

[orangerful]

Game Night: Marvel United

Game Night: Marvel United

I have a gaming group that meets every Monday night online.  We are scattered across the U.S. but through the magic of Tabletop Simulator and Board Game Arena, we play board game together!  Tonight, we played Marvel United – Captain Marvel, Doctor Strange, and Ghost-Spider versus Ultron! It was close, Ultron only had a couple more turns before he would destroy us all, but Ghost-Spider managed to…

[discipleofmothra]

My turnip28 Whelp unit. I used the new First Empires Camelry from War Games Atlantic Digital offerings as a base. Originally I planned to sculpt eels or maybe something lizardy over the cammel head, but when I printed the bodies, the headless version reminded me of a Muppet so I just added some snaggle fangs and googly eyes and now they may be my favorite little Turnip guys.

Bonus: I didn't glue the sadles down, just incase they want to join the Herd

[felassan]

Article: 'Legendary Baldur's Gate and Mass Effect veterans team up for a "high challenge" D&D book that sends you straight to hell'

Excerpt:

"The designer of Baldur's Gate 1 and 2, Dragon Age: Origins, and Star Wars: The Old Republic, James Ohlen, has written a new D&D adventure with Children of Time author Adrian Tchaikovsky. Called 'Chains of Asmodeus,' this official 286-page sourcebook (which is available on Dungeon Master's Guild) sends your characters into the Nine Hells to save a soul – theirs, or that of a loved one. It also serves as something of a reunion for ex-Bioware staffers. Alongside Baldur's Gate designer James Ohlen, Drew Karpyshyn (who was involved with Mass Effect and many of its tie-in novels) is listed as a writer on the project. While it's primarily available as a PDF download, Chains of Asmodeus will be given the print-on-demand treatment 'soon.' Either way, all proceeds go directly to Extra Life, the charity that provides medical care for children. Designed for players levelled between 11 and 20, this will be more of a challenge than most Dungeons and Dragons books; alongside more than 50 'High Challenge' monsters that would very much like to kill you, adventurers will have to battle through a new item corruption mechanic as well as the Archdevil Asmodeus himself, Lord of the Nine. As those lofty titles would suggest, he's bad news. Such bad news, in fact, that he spends most of his time plotting to entrap major figures like politicians, rulers, and adventurers. That's where you come in - he's either caught your soul in a pact or has captured the soul of a loved one to coerce you. (An average Tuesday for characters in the best tabletop RPGs, in other words.) If the Nine Hells sound familiar, that's because they're the setting of the Baldur's Gate 3 opening. They also feature heavily in the game's D&D prequel, Baldur's Gate: Descent into Avernus, so Chains of Asmodeus could serve as a good add-on for that adventure. If you want to check it out for yourself, you can grab Chains of Asmodeus for $29.99 here."

[source]