#bored horror campaign

[nice-day-for-fishin-aint-it]

Watched the bored horror campaign and it was fucking hilarious. spoilers below the cut:

Rowan sucks seven monster "dicks"

Byron never fails a search check and that is literally insane

Rowan brings all his employees back to life with six manipulation checks in a row

But Alan dies anyways a little later (I blame Adam and Rowan) and Rowan actually takes his dead body back with them

The ending is even more tragic than just Alan dying and it puts a very weird and gross spin on sucking them "dicks"

[cyberdragoninfinity]

Weird ask but what do you think bakura would do like for a job

He’s just a weird little guy (affectionate) but I can’t imagine him working

OH THIS IS A GOOD QUESTION I LIKE THIS

I've thought a lot about bakura like, very post-canon and what he would end up doing with his life...... i genuinely feel like he's just going to settle into like. work from home-type data entry/copywriting/very mundane office work a ways after high school and college lmao. like i love the concept of him having this very normal downright boring job but then on the side he's like a moderator on some niche ttrpg forum and very active in some haunted antiques facebook groups and DMing ishizu to talk about using his inherited domino musuem connections to get some egyptian relics back to their country of origin. like all of ryou's coworkers think he's just a sweet, softspoken kind of bland guy but if they talk to him for more than a quick spell it's like. oh so you are a WILD little guy actually, hello

that being said, i am also very partial to the post-canon scenario my friend and i cooked up where the summer after graduating bakura gets a job at the doggy daycare joey's working at and they just spend the summer taking care of unruly dogs. i think fondly and often of that one.

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE.

Antichrist!Aemond Targaryen x female Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; dub con, p in v, fingering (with gloves 😮‍💨), dacryphilia, choking, degrading, unprotected sex, power imbalance, female reader

WORDS: 4.7 K

NOTES: Yes, this is based on American Horror Story Apocalypse. Michael Langdon is just so *phew* that I had to adapt it to Aemond. This is so self indulgent, I'm not even sorry. @kaelabear you're getting the special taglist. @arcielee thank you for beta reading this! <3

You have lost track of how many days, months, or even years have passed since your arrival in Outpost 3, and gods, you’d give it all right away to be back in one of the holding cells the government had put you in around the time the bombs rained down over King’s Landing. 

Even though you received the status as a purple upon your arrival, therefore placing you to the upper-class elites specifically selected for survival, you couldn’t be worse off. At least there you’ve been allowed to do your own thing – as far as the confines allowed you to. 

The nutritional cubes they serve you are rationed, with Ms. Misery announcing they’ll have to ration them even further in the next days, and on top of being hungry and bored, you haven’t had a good fuck in quite the while. 

Sexual contact, or any kind of copulation, is strictly forbidden, and you’ve witnessed firsthand what it means to break Miserys’ rules – not that you’d make any moves on the other residents occupying the former exclusive boys school anyways. 

It’s only been you and your hand, sometimes even your pillow, from the very beginning on until now, and truth be told? You’re sick of it. 

At some point you’ve stopped getting yourself off, only because your body longed for physical contact, for someone else’s body on your own. 

And what certainly doesn’t help with your misery is the mysterious man that arrived just a few days ago. 

When he introduced himself as Targaryen, you knew his arrival was something that came partnered with power. As much as you would have liked to focus on his speech to campaign himself, you found it was far too difficult to care about humanity being on the brink of failure when the man telling you about it was so, so damn easy on the eyes.

Just the sight of his sharp features, regardless of a part of them being concealed by a black eyepatch, has been enough to make your mouth water. And when your eyes traveled lower, taking in the way his black slacks all but hugged his toned thighs, all was lost for you. 

You’ve been grateful that Laenor pounced on him to be interviewed first, wanting to see if he'd be worthy enough to be relocated to the so-called sanctuary, because you certainly would have jumped Targaryens’ bones right then and there. 

His alluring aura, the dominance radiating off of him – it all are factors that drive your aching body to insanity. and the nights that followed you found your relief more than once with the image of him flashing right before your eyes. 

Some time has passed in which you’ve barely seen him around, only hearing of him through the stories of the other residents that have been interviewed by him; now it’s your turn to warm the large chair standing in front of the imposing Mahogany desk. 

It’s the door behind you sliding open that lets your heart drop into the pit of your stomach, and you fidget with your fingers to stop yourself from turning around. You don’t want to be caught staring in the first few seconds already. 

You hear your name fall past his lips so smoothly it sends a shiver down your spine. You give in to the temptation and watch him step inside with an air of mellow gratification, prowling around the desk until he eventually sits down in the empty seat across from you.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he purrs, a glint of mischief dancing in his eye. 

There comes no reply from you, instead you continue to fumble with your fingers, looking at what you assume to be your file splayed out on the desk in front of him. 

It’s the dismissive hum that rumbles in his chest that finally piques your interest, and when your gaze settles on him again, you spot him touch his chin thoughtfully as his eye skimps over the pages, seeming as if he’s reading it for the first time. 

The red gloves he wears stand in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless rest of his outfit, your gaze drawn to them like a moth to a flame. He has worn them upon his arrival already; the smooth leather shining in the dim light of the candles makes your mind wander to more indecent things. 

He tilts his head up again to meet your gaze, his smooth and calming voice ringing out. “Your genetic profile would appear to be favorable, so you can say that this interview is solely conducted as a… precaution.” Though it’s meant to be reassuring, the deliberate pause he makes doesn’t seem convincing. 

His words make you frown. “What for?” you ask, and you curse yourself for how blunt and bold your voice sounds. “Aren’t you in need of relocating the last few people that pass on good genes, now that this is the last outpost standing?” 

The genuine laugh he offers you prompts you to lean back in your seat, juxtaposing the way he leans forwards in his. Something in the arrogance that radiates off of him, and the smug smirk he has on his lips, feeds your irritation. 

“Doesn’t seem like you can afford to be picky,” you snap back at him. 

He licks his lips, and although it’s not longer than a second, your mind immediately drifts off to think about how it would feel between your legs, how he would feel between them. You try to be subtle as you shift in your seat, barely moving enough to soothe the aching that blooms at the apex of them. 

“We’re making the selections as carefully as possible,” he counters. The paper of your file is pinched between his index and thumb, rubbing it between the pads of his fingers. “We need to ensure the survival of humanity, and I’m sure you understand that we have to look for a certain level of ambition in the people we choose.”

Even though his explanation is vague, and doesn’t make much sense to you, it is strangely appealing. The word ambition is such a broad term that could mean anything from career-minded to cutthroat, yet you still have to figure out exactly what he means. 

The tension grows thicker and thicker with each passing second of silence, and you feel a warm sensation spreading inside of you from his intense gaze – which is perhaps also due to the hint of desire that gleams in his eye as he regards you. 

You try your best to ignore the way your heart races, wanting to diminish the warmth inside of you. But to no avail. 

When he rises from his seat, your heart drops into your stomach again, and your eyes grow wide with curiosity and intrigue. 

It’s a brief flicker of your eyes down his body that has you squeezing your thighs together, far too distracted by how tall he is than to notice the smug smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. 

“Would you say that you’ve… settled here?” he asks, his voice carrying a hint of something you find difficult to decipher.  

He slowly stalks around the desk, the tips of his leather-clad fingers smoothly gliding over the dark wood. His eye lingers on your face, taking you in and assessing your reaction. His expression holds the same edge of darkness his voice does, though he isn’t hiding it as effectively as he thinks he is this time. 

Your eyes never leave his frame when he comes to stand next to you, leaning back against the desk. He’s gripping the edge of it, and even in the dim light of the candles, you notice that it’s rather tightly, almost as if he’s suppressing the urge to touch you. 

“Well, I suppose I’ve managed to adjust,” you reply. 

For a brief moment, neither of you says anything. He just stares at you with this cold precision – until you catch his eye flitting lower, trailing over your form. 

The purple gown you wear isn’t revealing at all, not that Ms. Misery would allow you to wear anything of that sort anyways. The neckline is squared with raised yet off-the-shoulder structured shoulders that leave little to the imagination – but only if you’ve been touch deprived for long enough.

And, judging by the way his jaw clenches as his eye meets yours again, you can tell it’s also been a while for him. 

The thought of it makes your blood run hot, the warmth now spreading to your cheeks. Your gaze falls to your lap, watching your fingers fumble with each other while you feel his bore into your frame. 

There’s a hum rumbling in his chest once again, but this time it sounds more like a purr, as if he finds satisfaction in your nervousness. “Are you normally this flustered in front of men… or is it just me?”

A sudden rush of excitement and embarrassment floods your veins as your mind processes his words; your head snaps back up to look at him, and you’re greeted by a teasing grin. 

“I’m not flustered,” you reply, your voice only wavering slightly, yet you know that it’s clear to him that you’re not being very honest. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you. 

He tsks, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I mean, I can see you,” he says, gesturing to you with his hand. “You’re licking your lips, you can’t meet my eyes for more than a few seconds, your cheeks are flushed – it’s clear your body yearns to be touched…” he trails off, smirking to himself as he briefly glances to the ground. “... by me.”

His statement catches you off-guard. A quick exhale from your nose leaves you feeling winded with the sensations of butterflies wreaking havoc within your body. 

The silence between you lingers, heavy and thick as you ponder over his words, and you decide to go all in. You glance at him sideways, before speaking. “Is that so?”

His eye darkens at your coy demeanor, and with the corners of his quirking up into a sly smirk, he reveals just a glimpse of the devil that lurks beneath the angelic exterior. “Oh, it is,” he replies with a mocking tone. “I know you’re getting off to the thoughts of me at night, sweet thing. And even right now, you’re dripping for me. It’s almost pathetic.”

He almost seems relieved as he finally reaches to trace a gentle line over your exposed shoulder, starting at the crook of your neck. His light touch and the coldness of his gloves cause you to shiver involuntarily, and makes your breathing heavy. 

As if he’s searching for something within yours, his eye narrows, and your mind races with the possibility of what such a look might signify. 

“Look at you,” he purrs, licking his pouty lips. “You’re sitting here, just waiting for me to take things a step further – all the while I could smell that sweet pussy of yours ever since I’ve stepped into the room.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words, making it difficult to swallow, and you feel yourself clench around nothing; the urge to squirm in your seat is nearly overwhelming. 

“That sweet scent of yours…” he trails off. Mesmerized by his words and confidence, you almost flinch when he pushes himself off the desk, slowly kneeling down to be on a level with you, hovering close to you like a predator pretending to pounce. 

Your breath is heavy, and with your body still facing the desk, you’re forced to turn your head to the side to meet his gaze. There are mere inches between your faces now, and you feel his minty breath fan over your lips, swollen from how often you've licked them at this point. 

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, and heat follows where the cold leather of his gloves ghosted over your skin. “So desperate to be touched… to be filled,” he hums. While embarrassment blossoms inside of you, there’s no amusement laced within his silky voice. It’s as if he’s just stating facts. “Or am I mistaken?” Your name topples past his lips with so much ease, it makes you imagine how it would sound moaned by him.

Your head begins to swim. His scent, his domineering aura, the warmth emanating off of him – it’s all too much and not enough. 

Meekly shaking your head, the ‘no’ you reply comes out not louder than a whisper. 

He takes in a quick breath of air, relishing in his victory. The way you submit to him, to his power and dominance, feeds something within him; a hunger that’s been growing more and more demanding from the moment he stepped into the room with you. 

“Good girl,” he purrs, slowly rising to his full height, stretching his fingers as he keeps his eye locked on you. A flush spreads over your cheeks at his praise, the subconscious urge to make him proud sending a shiver of excitement through your veins, feeding right into your desire to please him. 

He’s standing again, letting his eye drift over your sitting frame for a moment too long, trailing down your neck, over the curves of your breasts, and settling in your lap. A gloved hand comes forward to pinch the skirts of your gown between his fingers, an almost disgusted look on his features. 

“Take it off.”

“W-What?” 

“W-w-what?” he mocks, the scoff he releases filling you with shame. “Take it off,” he repeats. “Or else I will take it off of you, and that won’t be any more pleasant.”

The thought of him undressing you seems tempting. A small part of you wants to protest, to say something along the lines of ‘you can’t just demand something like this’ but the other part craves this. It feels as if it’s quintessential for your body to survive, not able to go one day longer without being touched at all. 

Rising to your feet, you smooth out the skirts of your dress before craning your neck to look up at him. He’s towering over you, hardly stepping back far enough to create any space for you to undress. 

Having always been a bit of a pain to put on, getting out of the dress was even worse. The tight fit and squared neckline leaves you with very limited mobility, meaning you’re always relying on a servant to help you get out of it. And facing these difficulties, the thought of removing it all by yourself, especially in front of him, seems almost sacrilegious. 

A thought pops into your mind, and your body is quick enough to get through with it before you can even think about it properly. 

“Care to help me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him. Before he can refuse, you brush your hair over one shoulder and turn around, presenting him with your back and the tightly laced corset. 

Much to your surprise, he doesn’t refuse, and you say nothing as his fingers find the lacing of your corset, gloves brushing your skin as he slowly undos the laces. 

It’s a slow process, one that builds anticipation within you, and has you squeezing your thighs together yet again. 

His caresses are light and careful at first, but they grow increasingly firm and forceful. Each tug and pull draws you closer to him, and only when you hear the same dismissive hum rumbling in his chest do you dare to glimpse at him from over your shoulder, seeing him staring at your back with his jaw set with a new purpose. 

The fabric is still pinched between his fingers when they suddenly change course, gripping the purple fabric around the lace with a bit more force than necessary. He rips open the corset in a single, harsh motion in a clear display of his impatience, the torn fabric hitting the ground with a thud, and your gown quickly follows suit. 

For a moment, you feel relief at being freed from its confines. But it’s fleeting, your skin immediately prickling as you become aware of how much of your body is exposed to him now. 

It’s weird to think that this thin layer of modesty has been enough to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, and now it’s peeled away with you knowing he’s gazing at you as if he’s been served his first meal in months. 

Easing your trembling legs, you hold onto the desk for support. It feels like an eternity as you crouch forward slightly to steady your uneven breathing, the moment only breaking as he advances towards you, his body leaning against yours and pressing you up against the desk. It’s the only thing keeping you upright, and the moment you feel his hot breath caress your neck, your legs feel like they are about to give in. 

His thigh slips between yours, but you can’t feel his hands on your body, assuming he’s clasped them behind his back or kept them at his sides. You can tell that his chest isn’t the only firm thing that presses against your body, his cock rock hard and all but straining against your lower back, clearly finding as much pleasure in the situation as you do.

His proximity is all you’ve thought of for the past days, yet it’s not enough. You need his hands, him, to feel thoroughly satisfied. The urge to whine scratches in your throat, but you manage to swallow it at the last moment. 

“Beg for me to touch you,” he drawls, voice laced with a mixture of excitement and hunger. 

Exhaling a strained breath, you close your eyes. “P-Please,” you whimper, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Please… touch me. It’s been so long.”

“Hm.” You hear it loud and clear, the amusement, the satisfaction, causing your skin to heat up. “That’s all you’ve got?”

You tip your head back in frustration, meeting with his shoulder, a loud huff slipping past your lips. But you’re so close to getting what you want, there’s no way you’re giving up already. 

“Please, please touch me… Mr. Targaryen.” His name is spoken with a bit of hesitation. “I-I- please, fuck, need it so, so bad. Please.” That you’re not stomping your feet on the ground like an insolent child is everything, knowing it would push your chance for relief further away. 

But it seems to do the trick, because one gloved hand settles on your hip without him saying anything, while the other clasps around the outside of your thigh, his thumb brushing smooth patterns over your hot skin. 

He drags his nose along the side of your face, his breath tickling your skin, and you slightly turn your head to lean into it. “Where else do you want me to touch, mh?”

Feeling him on every inch of your body has you far too aroused to be frustrated by his on-going teasing and stalling. “Right…” you pant, peeling his hand from your hip to bring it down between your legs, “... here.”

A quiet whine slips past your lips as his fingers make contact with your sensitive clit, the cold leather of his gloves against your hot skin striking you as a welcome surprise and sending a shiver down your spine. It feels foreign, but nice nevertheless.  

You’ve fully anticipated him to pull back again, to leave you high and dry, but he surprises you again, when he drags his fingers through your swollen folds. 

“Right here, mh?” he purrs into your ear with a husky voice. 

It’s a grazing touch that alone is enough to make your mind hazy, merely humming in return. 

He’s not doing more than rubbing your clit and brushing his digits through your folds, but you’re wet enough already for it to be audible. The squelching sounds coming from between your legs are embarrassing, clearly highlighting your desperation for him, and it only gets worse when he slips a finger inside of you. 

Taking in a sharp breath, you hold onto the desk again. “God, fuck,” you whine. 

His finger is thick enough to be accompanied with a slight burning stretch, intensifying the moment he adds another. You can’t resist the urge to grind against his hand, the base of it applying just enough pressure to your clit to numb any discomfort. 

“You like that, mh?” he rasps. “So fucking wet and desperate for my fingers, dripping all over my glove.”

A string of whiny yesses leaves your lips as the pace of his fingers increases, making it incredibly difficult for your hips to maintain the rhythm. 

Heavy breaths and pants fan over your flushed skin, spurring you on and bringing you closer to the sweet relief you’ve craved for so long. He seems to sense your impending orgasm, and works you just a moment longer, before he withdraws his fingers from you, making sure the loss would make it even worse. 

But there’s no time to whine. 

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he teases, acting as if he’s completely oblivious to the torture he puts you through, and brings his gloved hand up to your face. 

The red leather is covered in your arousal, sticky and glistening even in the dim light. As he spreads the two fingers, a few strings of it connect the leather, and you bite your bottom lip, knowing all too well what might follow. 

“Open your mouth, pet,” he commands in a stern voice. “Clean up your mess.” 

And you comply, parting your lips and eagerly embracing him pushing them inside. Your tongue swirls around the digits, the leather tasting and feeling completely different on your tongue. 

You hardly notice that his other hand has left your thigh, and even less that he’s undoing the zipper of his slacks, pulling out his hard cock. Only when you feel the pressure against your entrance do your eyes widen, and you whine around his fingers as he pushes inside. 

Even though you are stretched from his digits, it can not compare to his cock. 

He’s filling you to the brim in one, swift thrust, and with you being gagged by his gloved fingers, you can’t do more than mewl and moan. “Fuck, tight cunt taking my cock, hm? That’s it, such a good, little pet.”

Not giving you the chance to adjust to his size, he sets up a reckless pace from the very start, his impatience running thin with the way your tightness embraces him. He fucks you as if it’s a one time thing, as if you won’t make the cut, but something inside of you tells you this is merely the beginning. 

Saliva trickles down your chin as his cock drives deeper and deeper, forcing moan after moan past your lips and his gloved fingers. It’s the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his strained grunts and your muffled whines filling the room, and if Ms. Misery were to find out, you would be tortured or killed even before the next day arrived. 

Maybe it’s the risk of being caught that drives him to his next step, but he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, gloved hand coming down to rest around your throat instead. He applies just a bit of pressure, merely meaning to hold you upright and steady to make it easier for him to use you to his liking.

You scramble for hold, sweaty palms planted flatly on the wooden surface in front of you, supporting yourself as the man behind you all but fucked every coherent thought out of your brain. 

“Look at you,” he grunts, pounding into your needy cunt. The tip of his cock brushes your sweet spot, pushing high enough to knock the air out of your lungs and make you lose yourself. “All you’ve been thinking about was my cock. So desperate to be fucked by me, huh?”

You are so full with him, his scent, his warmth, everything, that breathy whines and yesses are the only things slipping past your lips. 

He drags his nose along the side of your face, clearly relishing in the way he’s fucked you dumb with so little effort already, and you almost feel yourself come on spot the moment he presses his lips to your earlobe. 

Pushing his hips all the way into yours, he stills them for a moment, bringing up a gloved hand to spit on his fingers and before dragging them harshly over your sensitive clit, and putting you straight into a frenzy. 

The tears that were brimming in your eyes now spill and run down your flushed cheeks, hitting the desk he has you hunched over. 

“No need to cry, pet,” the man behind you drawls, a satisfaction weaved in his husky voice. “You wanted this, didn't you? Wanted my cock to fuck you stupid? Or do you want me to stop?”

Your blank mind barely processes his words, but just hearing the word stop has you finding your voice again. “N-no,” you whine, arching your back and pressing your ass back against him. “Don’t-don’t stop, Sir. ‘M so, so close.”

“Close, mh? Then fucking come for me.”

With his hand now applying a good bit of pressure to your throat and his fingers strumming your clit in a reckless pattern, you feel yourself getting lightheaded as your release hits you suddenly. 

His strained groans are hushed against your neck as you spasm around him, sucking him in hungrily. He works you through it, fucking you as you quiver and shake. Grinding against him, you ride your high out in rhythm with his thrusts, gasping each time his cock pistones inside of you. 

His hips falter slightly for a moment, caught off guard by how tightly your walls are squeezing him, but he regains his composure and sets up a brutal pace again. You’re swollen and raw by now, but he doesn't stop. 

“That’s it, fuck, I’m gonna get this pathetic cunt stuffed with my cum,” he grunts, pulling his hand from your clit to plant it on your hip. 

Each rut of his hips makes your eyes journey to the ceiling, the tears on your cheeks now dry. There are hiccuped breaths spilling from your mouth, and you can’t do more than to hold onto the desk, bracing yourself for his relentless pounding. 

With a stutter of his hips and a raspy groan escaping his throat, his cock eventually spills deep inside of you, coating your walls. He fucks it into you with deliberately slow thrusts, the last spurts of his warm release filling you to the brim.

A strained groan is audible as he pulls out, tucking himself back in his slacks, and assumes the cold demeanor he’s had before. The only courtesy he grants you is picking up your dress and underwear he’s torn off you before, holding it out for you to take. 

You get the cue, and dress yourself on trembling legs. The blonde watches curiously, leaning back against the desk again. The red gloves now lay on the desk, and you catch a glimpse of his long, ring-clad fingers. 

With flushed cheeks, you briefly look at the ground before presenting him your back again. “Do you mind?” 

He nods and steps towards you, silently lacing up your corset, and whenever his skin brushes yours, a shiver runs down your spine. His skin is soft, smooth even, and the warmth emanating from them is far more pleasant than the cold leather.

But the moment is fleeting as he quickly moves to sit down behind his desk again, a new file already pinched between his fingers. You smoothen out the skirt of your dress, merely bowing your head once, and make a beeline for the door. 

It’s his voice ringing out that stops you in your tracks, though you don’t dare to turn around. 

“I expect you to come back for your second interview tomorrow. See it as an opportunity for me to gauge whether or not you truly have the right… ambition.”

“Thank you, Mr. Targaryen,” you mumble in return, a strange sense of satisfaction and anticipation already coursing through your veins. 

Hearing your name once again, you turn your head to look at him. “There’s no need to be formal when it’s just us. You can call me Aemond.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

[lotties-ashwagandha]

how the yellowjackets would react to you being sick (headcanons)

i wrote these forever ago when i had the flu and they got lost in my drafts enjoyyyy gender neutral reader i think but taissa does reference her partner as her wife. also if the pics on this don’t format right (theyre supposed to be 3 in a row and then the header) pls tell me sometimes it fucks up :(

SHAUNA

sees you sneeze once and runs to the store for cold medicine with the fervor of middle aged preppers fist fighting for toilet paper in 2020

she would do or get absolutely anything you wanted, would go and buy takeout food from your favorite restaurants or make sure you’re comfortable wherever you’re situated

will make sure you’re taking whatever medicine you need, whether it’s just over the counter cough medicine or it’s something prescribed by a doctor. you can’t put up a fight with her about it bc you’ll never win. she gets so intense about it but it’s ultimately for your good and you know that

also just likes to hold you. she cancels whatever plans she has and you lay and watch movies together — she might not like everything you pick to watch but she’ll put up with anything to make you feel a bit better. as for the close proximity of holding you, she doesn’t care if she gets sick because she knows you’ll take care of her once you’re better in the same way she cared for you. plus i’d imagine her immune system is of fucking steel after having a baby in the wilderness???? no germs are getting on this woman ok and ykw that probs goes for all of them they probably have some fucked up forest girl immunity or smthn idk im not a doctor don’t come at me

LOTTIE

she’ll never admit it ever but at first she gets kind of excited because she’s been waiting for someone to fall ill so she can try out a new herbal remedy

but then she sees how upset you are and how much discomfort you’re in and feels guilty

anyway rich girl lottie is averse to germs and when you first get sick she handles you a bit like you’re a giant jellyfish someone’s trying to throw at her , she wants to help you but girl has a whole wellness center to run she is not getting sick

until she caves and you’re cuddled in bed together watching movies because she can’t keep away from you

she lets you watch whatever you want while you’re sick , but she does get a bit bored sometimes when you’re asleep so she flips the channel to nature documentaries. she’ll flip it back to whatever you were watching immediately after you wake up tho, and yes of course she was watching your horror movies instead of bird watching shows go back to sleep

she also cooks for you while you’re sick — probably not very well, but she won’t allow anyone else cooking for you because she wants to make sure you’re eating quality food that will help you get better and not just anything you could pick up

she gets very protective over you and over your health in general and won’t allow anyone to come bother you, if you work outside the wellness center she makes sure your bosses aren’t being bitches about you being sick and she ensures everything’s in order to her standards

TAISSA

panics because she has absolutely no idea what to do when you get sick, probably googles “what to do when your wife is sick” and follows the wikihow

she’ll take a few days off work for once to look after you, it doesn’t seem like a big deal but it is to you because she hardly ever takes time off from the campaign

she’s very stereotypical in the way she takes care of you — she’ll make you chicken noodle soup, get you blankets, everything she knows is the “standard” of taking care of someone with a cold but she works so hard to make sure everything’s perfect for you

she knows you’re miserable so she’ll try to make you laugh when you’re sick. telling you stupid jokes, funny stories from work, anything she can think of. your body is down but she won’t let your mental health go down with it especially if you already struggle with mental health

might offer you some dirt and a spot in her tree if you’re lucky

VAN

knows you’re sick before you do it’s some psychic ass shit she just KNOWS

you sneeze once and she’s like “oh I bought you some cold medicine earlier” like ??? girl ok whatever

she usually loves to make you watch her old dvds and tapes but when you’re feeling bad she puts on a marathon of your favorite movies

she buys you a lot of sweets. she’d be one of those “chocolate fixes everything” girls and whenever she would go out to buy you something she would come back with some sort of treat for you

she lets your rant about being sick if you’re one of those people who get grumpy when you get sick, she wants you to trust her and feel safe enough to express your distress

NATALIE

i think we all know natalie isn’t the best person in health and wellness situations but she does make it fun to be sick at least !

raids the vending machine for you

will probably google how to take care of you like taissa , but thinks the instructions are too long and gives up

will probably call misty and make her bring over whatever medicine you’d need because she knows she’ll fuck it up picking it out herself

she’s silent on the bed for an hour and then announces “i made you a spotify playlist” out of the blue. it has like 5 songs on it but they’re all very very very meticulously selected and she’s so proud of it, she knows it cant help you get better physically but hopes it will make you happy

warns you not to get her sick as if it’s something you can control. looks at you so sternly and goes “don’t. don’t get me sick.” it makes you roll your eyes

MISTY

she’s been waiting for this day her whole life tbh not in a creepy way but in a loving “i want to take care of you” way

will do absolutely everything to make sure you’re comfortable when you’re sick, she would kill for you (she would anyway but especially when you’re not feeling well)

knows a bunch of get better health hacks from all the reddit forums she’s stalked over the years and only half of them work but it shows that she cares

tries to search amazon to see if there’s a little covid mask she can get caligula “just in case”

she makes you watch true crime documentaries with her and narrates every episode and then gives you all her hot takes afterwards. you can’t escape and she takes advantage of it

[thechekhov]

Hello! Just wanted to say I love all your content but I wanted to ask if you had any advice/tips for running curse of strahd? I'm working on getting ready to run it with some friends/my partner and while I've run a fair amount of homebrew stuff this is my real first attempt at a legit module so I was curious if you could share anything since I believe you also are running/had run that module as well?

Thanks for asking! This is a very fun question!

I have indeed run Curse of Strahd. It was my first foray into long-term DMing and my team and I finished that campaign a little under a year ago. It was awesome, and I'm always excited to talk about it. Curse of Strahd had be a great game if everyone is on the same page!

First of all, I'm gonna say

Having Experience with Homebrew will be a huge boon

When I ran CoS, I followed the actual module about... 60% of the time. It was good... as a baseline/blueprint. But the reality is that I changed up a lot of the details. Either because I didn't like the vibes of the story, or because the plot points were antithetical to my team's goals. I changed up an entire floor of Ravenloft. I threw away a whole storyline for a major NPC because I felt it was too boring.

I think most people who run Curse of Strahd do this, actually. I've heard countless tales of how others Homebrewed their own meat onto the skeleton, and still came out of the campaign with an awesome, Strahd flavored experience. So don't worry about that part.

Here's my advice:

1. Everyone should vibe with what Strahd IS as a game.

Strahd can be a lot of things - you can Homebrew your own motivations into him, or make him a her, or change the history of his castle if need be. But if there's one thing Curse of Strahd is... it is DARK.

The Venn Diagram of Parties Who Understand That Suffering Can Be Fun To Roleplay and Parties Who Had A Good Time Doing CoS is probably a circle. You cannot do this adventure with a group of people who just want to hit monsters a whole bunch. It's an inherently 'oh my god this SUCKS' adventure. That's the main theme. Your players need to be able to enjoy that sort of game, otherwise they will just be miserable.

One of my players, upon arriving in Barovia, immediately said 'I hate it here' and then continued to say it for the rest of the campaign. That is kind of the catchphrase of CoS. Your players need to be comfortable with that sort of bleak horror and overall misery. It makes the end and the potential to finally end Strahd worth it.

That being said, Strahd can also just be... a lot. It has death and torture and psychological horror in there. KIDS DIE. Please discuss this stuff with your table, and remove elements if they guarantee a bad experience for everyone!

(Yes, you can trim down some of the viscera if you need to, that's fine. But keep in mind it will still be tragic. It SHOULD still be tragic. I set some boundaries for myself, but I also killed a whole town in an avalanche. It happened to be the only town my players had grown to like. It was a dick move. It was exactly what you would expect to happen.)

2. Read ahead - A LOT AHEAD.

For a self-contained world, Barovia isn't actually that big. It's a very small map, compared to some that span continents. That means you have the ability to flesh it out, as it were.

To add to that... some areas are... severely underdeveloped plot-wise. Sometimes there are places your players will go where it FEELS like it should link up to another point in the game but it just... doesn't. There is room to expand there. Use your Homebrew skills to connect the dots that the module doesn't!

I greatly recommend taking the time to either read through the whole adventure OR listen through some video-essays. There IS some cool stuff that comes in in the later game that you can grab and put down breadcrumbs for from day one. Or add to your own story twists.

My recommended resource for this is the Curse of Strahd DM's Guide video series.

...and to that end...

3. Start living in Ravenloft Castle WAY before your players get there.

Listen..........listen. look.

Look at this, and suffer as all GMs have suffered.

Castle Ravenloft is unarguably the biggest, stupidest, most architecturally ludicrous hurdle when it comes to GMing CoS. And I am here to tell you - IT IS DOABLE.

You can understand the castle, you can grow comfortable with it. But you need to start early. Hell, I think I began to set up Ravenloft maps before my players even knew it existed. Then I stopped, because I was scared.. but then I went back, and I.... roleplayed SOLO on my off-days! I set up little scenes between Strahd and others and imagined him setting traps, and doing other things. It helped me understand which staircase led to where, and what floors were accessible from which angles.

A part of me actually thinks that there should be a mini GMs-only class where a more experienced Strahd GM takes some time with other GMs to guide them through a map of the castle. A CoS Learning Oneshot, if you will.

There's also a LOT of talented mapmakers that create beautiful, digital CoS maps! Here's one:

Even if you are playing analogue, at a physical table, I greatly encourage you to check it out for reference. The official CoS maps are bleak and a little bit more... rustic? Than they are gothic.

Anyway, in order to avoid talking your ear off, I will end it here.

My last bit of advice is... to have fun!

Yes I know I just said that Strahd is an inherently bad-vibes game. But it's actually GOOD to let your players goof off now and then. Don't be afraid to let them do shenanigans. It builds character, and allows them to regain the energy they need to role-play properly heavy elements later.

My group did a whole bunch of funny stuff. They felt so bad about losing Ireena that when they saw Ismark, instead of explaining themselves to him they cast Darkness and tried to scramble away. There was a running joke that the cleric was too good to know about sex, so they used the euphemism 'play cards' around her, much to everyone's amusement. They got kicked by a walking house once and never forgot nor forgave. And finally, they defeated some Flame Skulls by putting them into a bag of holding.

Anyway, the point is... have fun! I wish you and your party the best of luck. :)

[ratgrinders]

Some video games I think the Rat Grinders would like:

Kipperlilly - I think she'd like puzzle games like Baba is You or Patrick's Parabox, because shes likes the sense of accomplishment she feels when she solves a level. Mary Ann got her into Stardew Valley and she is completely incapable of being chill about it, she's optimized EVERY FACET of production to maximize profits.

Ruben - He's been playing the same Minecraft world since he was 12. I think he also plays a lot of Nintendo games, Mario, Pokemon, Legend of Zelda, and he and Lucy would meet up after school sometimes to play Mario Kart.

Oisin - Strategy games like Civilization 5 and Stellaris. He plays against Kipperlilly sometimes, and games can get pretty close. BOTH are sore losers though. I also think he plays a lot of Factorio and spends a lot of time optimizing his factory.

Mary Ann - We know from the Adventuring Party Mary Ann likes games like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley, but I think she'd also get a kick out of fighting games like Smash Bros. Anytime she beats someone bad at the game (like Buddy) she tells them to "git gud". She hates horror games, not because they're scary but because they're boring, and nothing fazes her.

Ivy - Says that she doesn't play video games, but is really into open world RPGs like Elden Ring, the Witcher 3, and Skyrim. Especially for games like Skyrim, she likes to spend hours in character creation and coming up with a backstory for her character before ultimately playing a stealth archer.

Buddy - Buddy's been discouraged from playing video games his whole life, because you are "motivated to sin if you spend large blocks of time doing things that matter very little". He only plays mobile games, and he's AMAZING at Candy Crush. I think he'd get a kick out of horror games though, as a sort of fascination with the profane.

Lucy - A big fan of story-based, atmospheric games like Firewatch or What Remains of Edith Finch. She also mainly likes cooperative games, and so many games with co-op campaigns she's played through with Kipperlilly.

[greyhound-with-a-mega-wizard-hat]

My favourite thing about being a Dungeon Master was that I could totally fuck up the tone of the campaign.

Yeah, it was a horror campaign content-wise. Yes I also named the BBEG Plorn and had his Cultists have names like Sharron and talk to eachother in the same way the party does. Yes I let my player have a threesome with an NPC and Plorn.

So did my campaign feel like a horror campaign? No. Was it hilarious? Yes. Was it also dark and with a sad ending? Yes. What was the scariest part? My players made me give exposition via song.

What was the point of this post? I'm bored as fuck

[froot-batty]

FINALLY.

lore under the cut! (warning it's uh. it's long)

Because the two of them are very closely entwined, I'll write their backstories as one big thing instead of individually

Bruce Wayne had the life every kid dreamed about. The child of two successful, wealthy, loving parents, his own staff, and the ability to go wherever or do whatever he wanted in the city. Well, with parental supervision, of course. Thomas and Martha, though they believed in Gotham and saw the good in it, also tended to shelter Bruce a bit, just to keep him away from the dangerous parts. Unfortunately this backfired, making young Bruce only want to go into the city alone even more.

Harvey Dent was the polar opposite of Bruce. He grew up in the worst part of the Narrows, with a single immigrant mother who was constantly taken advantage of by their landlord or her various bosses. While she loved him dearly, she couldn't be there all of the time for him (due to her needing to work multiple jobs) or protect him from the horrors going on outside their door. He bore witness to a great deal of traumatic things, and eventually took to leaving his house when his mother wasn't home in order to get a reprieve.

Bruce and Harvey first met when they were very young children, as Harvey was wandering the streets near his home and Bruce had escaped to go and explore the Narrows. They clicked almost instantly; despite the differences in the way they grew up, they both shared the dream that Gotham was, at it's core, a good place (or could be a good place). Harvey eventually introduced his childhood friend (and neighbor) Selina Kyle to Bruce, and they became a tight trio for many years.

Bruce's parents died when he was 11. His grief made his ventures out to the Narrows lessen, but Harvey and Selina would often make trips to Bruce's house to make sure he was okay.

Harvey's mother died when he was 15. She had been sick for years now, and the constant stress of having to work multiple jobs eventually got to her. He appeared to cope with it easily enough, but on the inside, his anger towards the perceived injustice she received would never really fade.

Even as they grew older, and neared adulthood, Bruce's and Harvey's friendship seemed as strong as one could be. At least, that's what Harvey thought, until the moment Bruce completely vanished from Gotham altogether. Bruce's disappearance made Harvey and Selina drift apart, so Harvey in turn poured himself into his studies at college. It would be 15 years until Harvey saw Bruce again, and though part of him wanted to be angry, he was just desperately happy to see his best friend again.

Harvey by then was well into his career as District Attorney, and had aspirations of running for mayor in the upcoming election. Bruce was the one who eventually encouraged him to do it, promising funds and all the help Harvey could need to run his campaign. There was another person planning on running for mayor in the election, one Oswald Cobblepot, but neither of them worried too much about him, at the start.

By this time Bruce had reconnected with Selina as well. Harvey and Selina never could get as close as they were in their childhood, so her instant connection with Bruce began to make Harvey a little worried. A little jealous. He didn't want to lose his best friend again, even if it was to someone who was supposed to also be his friend. Harvey acting weird began to drive Bruce away a little bit, which only pushed him further to Selina, creating a vicious cycle between the two of them.

Well into the swing of the mayoral campaign, Harvey began to...lose it a little bit. He had begun recieving open threats on his life (from Oswald, but he didn't know that at the time, and began to think people were conspiring against him), and his paranoia over that along with everything going on with Bruce and Selina made things up top get worse. By now he was fully distancing himself from his two friends, and started to wonder if they were plotting against him.

Everything came to a head when Harvey was due to make a speech at Wayne Manor. It was only a night or two until the results of the election would be announced, and Bruce had thrown a party in honor of Harvey's campaign (and in the hopes it'd cheer him up). Harvey initially didn't want to do a speech, but Bruce encouraged it, and the District Attorney took the stage.

Unbeknownst to him, Oswald had planned to send Dent a final message - one that would take him out of the running completely.

He paid a man to dress up as a waiter and infiltrate the party. Harvey was in the middle of his speech when Penguin's man ran up to the stage and threw a glass full of acid directly at his face.

This was Harvey's breaking point. Forced to drop out of the race and his mind in tatters, he fully believed that Bruce was in on the plot to take him out, and turned his back both to him and Selina. Where they had bonded over the idea of making Gotham better, this is where they'd fall apart; because Harvey still believes that he can improve Gotham, even if he has to burn the city to the ground to do it.

(Both of them are Bisexual. Harvey also has OSDD-1, which I will probably explain in another post, since this one's way too long)

[jennamoran]

The Far Roofs

cover art by Isip Xin

Hi!

Today I'm going to talk a little bit more about my forthcoming RPG, the Far Roofs. I've previously talked about

general principles,

the rats,

and the campaign.

Today, I want to talk about the Mysteries.

Up on the distant roofs, you see, the rats hunt, and are hunted, by these ... things. These vast, impossible god-monsters.

The Mysteries.

These things that are as much experiences as beings.

I like to anchor them to real-world myths. That's mostly an authorial choice, rather than something intrinsic to their character---

I think if I named them all in some made-up language of my own, called them all things like, I dunno, Alolitha or Eidumir, then they'd come across as cooler ... but also harder to get a handle on.

You'd have to be immersed in the setting to really get what they're about.

So I give most of them a byname that's more accessible. Something like Harpy, Hoop Snake, Lennan-Shee---whatever---so that you can tap into your memories or impressions of real-world mythology and the work of fantasists and cultural tropes and monster manuals from other games and the stories of your childhood and all of that.

Even still, they are vast things.

You might be forgiven, if I just named them without that prelude, in thinking that they seem vast to the rats because the rats are small. Thinking, perhaps, that you could fight off a Mystery like Jackalope, say, or Hippocampus ... if you were lucky, or had a gun ... whereas a rat might have a harder time.

The thing is, to walk in the realm of myth is to lose your grounding in the world. On the Far Roofs you can't rely on your ability to frame a story or a conflict through a rationalistic lens. The Mysteries are not physical creatures of a certain size, but rather the animating spirits of dramatic, life-changing experiences. Like the starring monster of a horror movie, or divinity that visits you in dreams, it's loosely possible to pay them off, or punch them out, or argue with them about Naruto, or whatever, but you can't really extrapolate out from that to resolve whatever underlying problem they can be.

Jackalope isn't a thing you shoot, or whatever:

It's a thing you encounter on dark nights, sometimes, and can't ever really prove you've seen. Maybe you don't even encounter it, just ... find its tracks.

It's not a conflict you can easily rewrite.

As for something like Harpy ... she is dead, the rats have killed her ... and even dead and disembodied your fate is very likely in her hands.

.

This kind of thing is why the rats are valid protagonists in this world:

In the face of the Mysteries, there's not much difference between the standings of a human and a rat. We are all such small, imperiled things.

.

Each of the Mysteries is tied to some internal state. Some mood or emotion or whatever. It's not clear how much that's true, and how much that's a game convention, and how much that's how the rats, who you're going to be getting most of your basic information from, understand them.

... but it's at least a little bit "all three."

This is, fundamentally, an authorial choice. The Far Roofs is an expressionist game. It's a game about emotion bleeding out into reality, about moods and experiences taking on physical or quasi-physical form in the world or narrative around us. So that's part of why I made the Mysteries like this.

The other part is, if you want to make up your own Mysteries, it helps a lot that you can start with an internal state.

Deciding to make up "Centaur" as a Mystery is kind of boring. I think.

Deciding to make a Mystery named Centaur that is on some level "about" mind-body duality or immersion in the body, or wisdom, or the post-exercise endorphin mood, or having ADHD ("I'm stuck on a horse that's going where it wants"), or whatever ... that's a bit more interesting.

Starting with a mood you want to talk about, I think, like ... Sorrow ... and figuring out what mythical entity best matches that (I'd go with Banshee), and then figuring out how its stories work from there:

I think that's the most interesting option of them all.

.

I do give some of them fancy made-up names, to be clear. I'm not opposed to having an Alolitha or Eidumir or whatever around! But that's not the default or primary approach.

.

In theory, the game expects you to make up most of the Mysteries you encounter.

In practice, there's a built-in campaign that features a bunch of them, so there are enough worked examples in the book that you might never have to come up with one from scratch:

there's solid summaries of about three dozen, plus

in-depth writeups of Goblin, Harpy, Hoop Snake, Unicorn, and four other Mysteries that map a bit less precisely to established myths.

.

There's a lot in those in-depth writeups, but my favorite parts are the pages that are just questions the GM can ask the players when that Mystery is at hand.

(Questions, sometimes statements, sometimes actions or power uses, but ... it's the questions that I love.)

I have spent the better part of a decade working on power sets for spiritual, mystical, and divine entities, and you can find some cool rules toys for the more purely mechanically minded here. I like how their game-mechanical writeups all turned out.

... but in both practice and theory, none of that is as cool to me as the list of asides and questions the GM can crib from when the Mystery is involved. Simple stuff like "the wind is rising" or "speak to me of solitude." More nuanced stuff like GM-as-Death playing a spade suit card and saying, "tell me of a nasty accident, and how you avoided or survived it." In every case, a bunch of options.

As a reader, I love the detailed mechanics more. As a reader, I don't really care that much about the actual how of how the Mysteries do things but I love that there is a how. It tickles an important part of my brain, deep down.

... but when I'm actually GMing, I love the lists of phenomena and questions so very much.

I am admittedly usually in a constant state of panic when GMing, so perhaps I get more value out of both the cue card function and the ability to hand off responsibility to the player than others would.

Perhaps.

.

If you're curious about those examples:

The wind rises when you're dealing with Harpy because a lot of her story is the story about how being on the Far Roofs is like falling, like flying, like losing the stable influence of the ground. So naturally you feel the air. You feel the motion. It arises. Naturally you become isolated, or at least experience intermittent solitude, because the ground ultimately mediates almost every social connection and interaction.

Maybe not love or skydiving teams, I guess.

When Death's presence is weighty in your life ... well, it's in your life, so you're probably not dead yet, but stuff happens! You nearly died!

I like that you don't have to think through that theory when playing with this stuff, but it's still all right there, implicit, presented in a couple of different forms.

That's what I have to say tonight!

.

From the Cutting Room Floor for this Post:

... there is still a part of my brain that loves it when you write up the power that lets the Christian God be three species of hypostasis and a single ousia, or whatever, and loves it even more when you can use the same power to combine three mechs.

I have not written up that specific power, though, to be clear, as I rarely put either Christianity or mecha in my games (albeit, see Invisible Mecha) ...

[leeloooonfire]

There's this saying within the group of freaks of Hawkins High and the guys from Corroded Coffin - "Never, ever even think about opening one of Eddie's notebooks if you want to keep all your limbs intact and not roll with disadvantage for the rest of the entire campaign."

It's like an unspoken rule and if one dares to break the silence and say they'd wish to know what kind of treasures lie within the hardcover notebooks dispersed all throughout Eddie's space, their words were whispered off the record. Some, like Gareth, even throw haunted looks over their shoulders and then raise their hands into the air, fingers twisted in a sign against all evil when even one mumbles the unspeakable two words "Eddie's notebooks".

The party were warned early on to never mention the sacred books within Eddie's hearing range or even think about touching them at all.

Only once, Mike dared to reach out for one tattered notebook with a red spine and warped pages when it fell off the table during one of their DnD sessions. Dustin is sure to this day that Mike actually saw his life pass by him in a flash and only his role as one of the youngsters of the group saved his sorry ass from imminent destruction.

Still, even though knowing he might actually not survive this, Dustin really wants to know what's inside of them. Time and time again, Lucas told him to forget it, „You being his favorite won’t save you from his wrath, so banish your foolish wishes from your mind.“

But how could he banish the thoughts when there are so many notebooks around the trailer; hidden between well-loved copies of fantasy books like The Lord of the Rings and Dune or monster manuals within the bookshelves of Eddie's room. When they can be found under the piles of discarded clothes on the floor or kicked under his spray-painted dresser during a heedless moment? One with blue stripes lies just right next to a bottle of bleach under the kitchen sink and two, one blue and one brown, are on the couch at all times. If one might want to relieve themselves during a night of horror movies in the Munson's home, they might find one in the bathroom, right next to the toilet. There are even a few in the tiny gap between Eddie's forever-unmade bed and the patchy, poster-covered wall or in the back of Eddie's beat-up van with stained covers and ripped-out pages.

Some, they all know, are for DnD, and some for his music. One or two, though mostly abandoned within the first few weeks of the year, for school and his studies.

The others? No one really knows.

They all have their own little theories. Like Fred, who thinks Eddie uses most of the notebooks to write down his secret, illegal science experiments. Or Jeff, who once said that Eddie probably uses them for boring stuff like accounting for his drug deals and taxes. Not that Eddie pays any taxes.

There are theories about witchcraft and satanistic rituals held within the pages of the books, obviously. About nude drawings of any DnD monster having intercourse with one of their DnD characters. Theories about him writing a cringy romance novel or poems like an Edwardian nobleman succumbing to his fatal illness.

Clara, one of the older DnD legends who graduated the year before Dustin started Highschool, once said Eddie might be using so many notebooks to keep track of his multiple personalities.

All of them seem rather plausible, but none of them explain why Eddie protects them like Smaug protected the sparkling hoard of gold in the Lonely Mountain.

To the others, it feels like a secret better left alone. To Dustin, however, it seems like the most exciting mystery since his ninth birthday party where his father, then still alive and well, was able to prepare an entire pirate-themed scavenger hunt.

To no one's surprise, he takes the first opportunity that comes along his way to get his hands on one of the thick notebooks.

It's after almost an entire year of wondering, two months after the horrendous affairs of the Upside Down where both Eddie and Max merely escaped with their life and (almost) all limbs intact.

It's when the party and Steve help Eddie and his uncle move out of the now mostly destroyed trailer and into a small house at the edge of Loch Nora.

While the others are all somewhere else in the trailer, Dustin and Steve fill box after box with Eddie's stuff from his bedroom.

"Fucking hell, this place is even filthier than the landfill," Steve mutters to himself when they move the mattress off the bed to dismantle the frame and they get a good look at the trash that gathered under it for probably ever. Or, at least, since Eddie got this bed. Cigarettes, condom wrappers, used tissues -yikes-, crumbled-up or ripped pages, a few scattered pens and more dust than meets the eye. Steve's right, it is filthy. His mother would have a heart attack and then sentences Eddie to a day of cleaning like a disgruntled judge in court.

He is about to say something that's both mean to Steve and still agreeing when he sees them - right at the very edge of the bedframe, hidden underneath a jumper that looks like it could have been Mr Clark's favorite, are seven notebooks.

Dustin moves before Steve can even react; almost jumps over the frame and belly lands on the floor to get to them before the other has the time to count them or take them away or anything.

Steve stares at him with an incredulous look, lifting one part of the frame up in the air, "Why did you do that?"

Dustin shrugs, trying to look innocent like the tiniest baby kitten in the world, and says, "Thought I saw a rat, had to jump."

"A RAT?" Robin shouts, who came into the room to bring yet another empty box for them to fill with Eddie's junk. "WHERE IS THE RAT?"

"There's no rat!" Steve rolls his eyes, but behind Robin, Argyle shouts, "A RAT?"

In the chaos of the entire group trying to find and run away from the non-existing rodent, Dustin grabs three of the notebooks and hides them under his hoodie right between his belly and the waistband of his jeans.

He knows it's shitty.

But - Eddie owns him one, Dustin thinks, for almost dying on him in the Upside Down. So, it somehow feels like his damn right to snoop through his private notebooks.

Just a peak, he tells himself. If it's a diary, he'll close them right away and bring them back to Eddie. It's not like Dustin would want to read something that personal. He would with Mike to make fun of him, but not with Eddie. Despite almost dying and being a massive dork, Dustin thinks Eddie is cool.

This means he will respect his privacy if the notebooks are that personal. Otherwise - what really is the harm, right? Old, discarded DnD notes? Homework and dates of exams? Pffff; it can't be that bad, can it?!

It can.

Less than five hours later, Dustin is sitting on the floor next to his bed and has one of the notebooks open on his legs.

It is definitely not a diary, even though Eddie has marked the pages with dates.

It is, however, probably, pretty personal.

18th of June 1985

They kiss for a long time, lying in the dark, softly and then decisively, chaste and then deep.

Before long, Bilbo lowers down onto Thorin, making a long, slow sound like an early rumble of thunder. 

It's so sexy, hot, amazing. Everything's warm and soft and dark and slick, Bilbo's hand on Thorin's forearm, Bilbo's ass in his lap, back against his chest, Bilbo's hole around his dick. 

Thorin thought that maybe doing whatever Bilbo wanted would ... 

The thing is, Dustin should have closed the notebook after reading the first line right away; shouldn't have even taken them home with him. The thing is he can't just take them back to Eddie and act as if he's never seen what he saw.

And the thing is, is - is that Eddie. Eddie!

Eddie writes - stories?! Fiction? Sexual fiction about two already exciting characters who are, well, are a dwarf and a hobbit. But also are two men.

Sure, Tolkien never explicitly talked about gender in his books, Dustin thinks, but from his understanding and what he's reading in Eddie's notebook, it's two guys - having fictional intercourse.

Does this mean that his brother figure is gay?

Is Eddie a homosexual? Or does he just like writing about Bilbo getting railed by Thorin?

He has sooo many questions, and most of them, he's not sure, he really wants to get an answer.

He is still contemplating what he's going to do with the hobbit porn in his lap when the door opens and Steve comes in with an eye roll, "I knocked about four times, what the hell are you doing that you didn't hear me?"

Dustin, once again, tries to look innocent and shoves the notebook off his lap and under his bed before Steve catches on.

This time, not even a potential rat alert could save his ass, because Steve's eyes narrow and before Dustin can even say anything, the other is on the floor, grabs one of the other two notebooks and opens it.

"NO!" Dustin shouts, slamming against Steve to tackle him and rip the notebook out of his hand, but it is too fucking late.

"Bilbo reacts almost immediately. His mouth latches around the tip, sucking before pulling back and kitten-licking all around the head. Thorin writhes impatiently, his gasps nearly pained. Bilbo suckles, licks [get a dictionary for synonyms] on the tip, and then he glances up, meets Thorin's gaze, and sinks down. - Oh, -."

Steve reads out loud, voice wavering the closer he comes to the end of the passage and then lets go of the book.

Dustin tries to hit Steve in the shoulder before scooping up the notebooks and pushing them under the bed to the other one.

They stare at each other, both flushed and slightly uncomfortable.

God, could El please open one of the portals now so Dustin can hide in the Upside Down? That would be great!

"Please don't say anything!" Dustin says at the same time Steve opens his mouth to let out, "Are you into guys?"

"What? No!"

Steve holds out his hands in front of him as if to protect himself from Dustin's anger, but he raises one eyebrow, "It's okay if you do."

Dustin shakes his head, "Of course, it's okay if I do, but I don't!"

Steve's cheek twitches, clearly unsure how to proceed, and then says, "There's nothing wrong with gay fiction."

"Jesus, I know there's nothing wrong with gay fiction. It's not mine, though."

"Sure!" Steve smiles and reaches out to clasp Dustin on the shoulder, "You can talk to me once you're ready."

"There's nothing to talk about. I have Suzy!"

"Okay, and? There are plenty of people who like both, so it's okay if you just realised that."

Dustin wants to smack his head against a wall, or maybe, Steve's head, "It's seriously not mine. They're Eddie's!"

Steve stills.

Dustin stills. He seriously didn't mean to tell Steve that, to leak Eddie's secret. He just wanted to know what Eddie was hiding, and not maybe, probably out the guy to Steve fucking Harrington.

"Eddie's?! Why do you have Eddie's notebooks?"

Dustin makes a face, deer in the headlight and slightly scared.

Understanding dawns upon Steve's face and he groans, "No you little shit didn't!"

"I didn't!" Dustin says automatically but cringes when Steve kneels down and picks up the three tossed notebooks from the floor.

"Seriously, Dustin, why can you never leave things alone?"

"Please don't tell him."

Steve stares at him, hard, lips pinched together and then sighs, "Okay. But you little fucker own me."

Feel free to use this and make an entire story out of it 🖤☺️

[batty4steddie]

Can I Keep It?

@spicycinnabun and I's contribution to steddiebang 2023! ❤️️ | Chapters: 1/12 | Rating: M | Read, kudos or comment on ao3 | We have a playlist. ❤️️ | Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Chapter 1: Have You Ever Been Arrested?

Robin had the night off. Band practice or some shit. Steve was so bored. It had been dead in Family Video all day until finally, finally someone remotely attractive came into the store: Christina Kelly, a blue-eyed, bright blonde-haired Hawkins High cheerleader. On some girls, the uniform looked frumpy, but on her, the shortness of it skirted nicely over her ass. Steve’s eyes roamed up her mile-long tan legs and settled on it. She was drop-dead gorgeous.   He licked his lips and continued to watch her browse the shelves for a minute. She must’ve come from practice or a game. Steve remembered her instantly. Hard to forget a face and body like that. Damn, sometimes he really missed high school, even if it was just for the eye candy.   Once he got a good, long look, he approached her with a warm smile. He welcomed her to the store and introduced himself. While he remembered her, she didn’t remember him at all. Even after he told her he was on the basketball team, the one she had cheered for all three years they had gone to school together.

Whatever. 

The bell above the door tinkled as Eddie swaggered in. It was 6 P.M., and he was fully prepared for the campaign on Friday night, so he figured he would rent a few flicks to watch while he struggled through his trig homework due tomorrow. You know, be a responsible student. Maybe some entertainment with his studies would deter him from giving up and smoking the superb grass Rick had supplied him earlier that week. Eddie had already sampled more than he was technically allotted. It was just too good to keep his sticky fingers out of.    Nobody was at the front counter to greet him, but Eddie spotted a tuft of styled brown hair bobbing by one of the shelves and a blonde ponytail with a green scrunchie he recognized as belonging to one of the Hawkins High cheerleaders. Steve was thrilled—not only to have someone to talk to, but he was still trying to find the one, and Christina? She could be it. Smoking hot and unsure of what she was looking for, damn if she hadn’t come to the right place. Steve turned the charm up to eleven by taking the liberty of showing her around the store. The sections of the store were clearly labeled, but he still guided her, asking if she liked comedies, romances, or thrillers. Not pegging her as a horror fan. Eddie rolled his eyes with a smirk. He had half a mind to jump in and yell BOO! to interrupt whatever heterosexual mating ritual was happening between the romance and action movies. Instead, he headed towards the horror section one aisle away from the pair, gaze flitting over the titles. When one caught his interest, he picked up the empty case and turned it over to read the premise. 

Night of the Creeps, where alien space slugs turned people into sorority girl-eating zombies? That sounded pretty metal.   For every suggestion Steve made, Christina took a video off the shelf to consider it. That made him think that she was totally into him. By his last suggestion, The Legend of Billie Jean, she had an arm full of tapes. He went into a brief synopsis, explaining it was about a brother and sister on the run from the police, which prompted a sly question. He paired it with his most devilish smile.

“Have you ever been arrested? ‘Cause it’s gotta be illegal to look this good.” 

The voice of none other than Steve Harrington nearly made Eddie choke on his spit. He hastily reshelved the movie. How had he not recognized that famous hair? Eddie’s fingers clamped onto the top of the shelf as he stealthily peeked over it. He felt a giggle bubbling up in his chest at the schmoozy smile plastered on Steve’s face.   The cheerleader backed up a step, expression twisting. “Ew, I have a boyfriend.” She dropped the movies from her arms, shoving past Steve towards the exit. “Creep.” 

Eddie covered his grinning mouth with his hand, rings clacking against each other gently. Steve Harrington had zero skill when it came to the babes. Eddie always figured he tossed his hair, and they flocked to him. What a pleasant surprise.

Christina’s reaction was so bad. There wasn’t even a laugh at the fun cheesiness of it. Of course she had a fucking boyfriend. How many times was Steve going to go barking up the wrong tree? He groaned when the tapes hit the floor, and his smile instantly dropped. His concern was more about damage to the tapes that Keith would take out of his pay if they were broken than his bruised ego from Christina calling him a creep. Which hardly was the truth.   The bell jingled as the door closed. In the ensuing silence, a giggle finally escaped. Eddie quickly ducked out of view when Steve turned in his direction. He poked his head around the corner before coming out, starting a slow clap. “Wow. That was epic, man.” 

Steve was just about to bend down to pick up the tapes when he heard a laugh. The fucking laugh he wanted Christina to laugh. He hissed and flushed briefly with embarrassment, of course, because what was worse than striking out? Having a certified freak witness it. “Yeah, well, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a chick on your arm, Eddie. Can’t blame me for trying, man. I’m just not her type.” 

Because she had a fucking boyfriend. Steve was beyond annoyed—he was humiliated, and the tapes were still on the floor. He sighed softly and bent down to scoop them up. 

“You wouldn’t,” Eddie replied, not missing a beat. “My arm is for me only. I keep all my foxy ladies back at my sweet, sweet bachelor pad.” 

From Steve’s bent position over the videotape, a piece of hair had fallen into his eyes as he looked up at Eddie. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. Just looked completely puzzled by the comment.

He knew Eddie was poor and lived in a trailer at the trailer park, but even he could get chicks to hang out with him there? Or was he keeping some women there against their will? Eddie wouldn’t admit that to him, would he? Even if he was a freak like everybody said. 

Steve shook his head and huffed inaudibly. He wasn’t sure if that was the truth, but still, he didn’t like hearing when other people were successful in their romantic pursuits.

The last time Eddie had a chick on his arm was in nineteen-seventy-eight at a Burger King birthday party when Jeremy Jenkins dared Heather Drew to kiss him. She’d tasted like ketchup and strawberry Lip Smacker. Eddie had spent the entire excruciatingly long three-second kiss staring at the cardboard cutout of the king standing behind her. Eddie’s grin widened when he spotted the red on Steve’s cheeks. He held back from further mocking purely for Dustin and the other kids’ sake. According to his little sheep, Steve might as well have hung the fucking moon, but Eddie still saw him for what he was: a bully. Plain and simple. The guy who would call Eddie names in the hallways along with his dumb jock friends. Eddie's back was well acquainted with bruises from being shoved against lockers, and his face had taken many a beating by the dumpsters. It might never have been Steve’s particular fist in his face, and Eddie had never taken anything lying down (fuck no), but he knew Steve’s kind. And he wasn’t a Harrington groupie. 

“You could help,” Steve griped when he saw one of the tapes had gone as far as three feet, right where Eddie was standing. 

Eddie toed the movie closest to him with his sneaker. Molly Ringwald’s pouty face stared up at him from the cover, which was cracked right down the middle. Eddie crouched on his knees to grab it, his pants pulling uncomfortably tight from the stretch. 

While leather looked punk rock as hell, it wasn't the most forgiving fabric, especially when it was actually cheap pleather. 

Steve stood up with the tapes and set them on the counter while Eddie picked up the last one.

“Yeah, this one is busted,” Eddie said, popping open the case to reveal an identical crack down the tape, one of the inner reels poking through.

Steve winced. That hurt.  “God damn it,” he said softly, coming over to take it from him and looking it over himself.  Yeah, it was broken. 

“Sorry, Molly, but if it's any consolation, your movie was probably shitty anyway.” 

“Actually, it’s a pretty good movie, man. It was really popular, too. We just got it back from being rented for a while. I’m going to get questions about it all week. Who knows when we can get another copy.” Steve walked it over to the trash and threw it away. “I think you might’ve liked it. It isn’t all about her. She’s kinda annoying in it, but there’s a guy, Bender, who kind of has… your fashion sense and disposition.” 

Steve chuckled as he discreetly checked out what Eddie was wearing. Eddie’s leather jacket and jewelry were pretty similar to that character’s. Steve returned to the counter and looked over the rest of the tapes. Luckily, they were fine. 

Eddie rocked back on his heels in surprise, starting a slow walk around the circumference of the counters as he eyeballed Steve. He hadn’t expected the guy to keep talking to him. Still, here he was, going on about Eddie's fashion sense, his disposition?  Was that an insult? Eddie didn’t know what to do with this. Why was previously reigning King Jock giving him the time of day? Why wasn’t he busy admiring his reflection in the window?   God, this job must’ve been boring as hell for him to actually do it. 

“Were you looking for something specific? Seriously doubt you came to witness me striking out with Christina Kelly. You just got lucky.” 

It was kinda funny now. It got Steve smiling and shaking his head at himself. 

The store was still empty, and he was still lonely, so he could at least do his job and help Eddie find a movie since that was his reason for coming to the store.   “Um…” Eddie crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. “Nothing specific. Something to keep me from faceplanting from boredom into my homework.” Or lighting up and spending the rest of the night floating like ash on the wind. 

“Definitely don’t miss homework,” Steve replied while he took the tapes off the counter and started putting them back on the shelves where they belonged. As Eddie continued to walk around, Steve noticed a little jingle from his wallet chain as he paced the store.

“Something spooky, maybe?” Eddie wiggled his fingers with a playful smile to cover his discomfort. This unexpected turn of events piqued his curiosity, so he didn’t mention he had already found a movie.  

“Something spooky, huh?” Steve asked with a playful smirk, though he was turned toward the shelves so Eddie couldn’t see it. 

Of course the freak was into horror. That wasn't a surprise. Family Video had a stellar horror collection. While the last couple of years had been horrific in Hawkins, Steve still enjoyed the fictional movie version sometimes. Most of the horror movies he had seen triggered his memory in a good way when it came to making weapons and fighting off Demogorgons with them winning. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve got lots of horror here. Although, if you’re a fan… which is safe to assume?” Steve asked Eddie when he turned back to face him, raising his eyebrows.  He knew it was true, so he smiled when Eddie nodded a bit. “Alright, we’ve got Fright Night, Day of the Dead, Return of the Living Dead, A Nightmare on Elm Street two and Friday the 13th, part five.” 

Surely, one of those Eddie hadn’t seen. Eddie met Steve back at the horror section, popping his hip against a shelf as Steve read the newest releases. You’ve come to the right place, Steve said. Had he come to the right place, or was he actually in an alternate reality where a jock didn’t tell him to return to the Hellfire he came from? Why did Harrington keep smiling at him? 

And why did he smell so good? Was that coconut? He should have smelled like old pizza and dirty gym socks like most guys their age. Eddie knew he was rocking cigarette smoke and not much else, himself. It would be very unchill of him to lean in and get a bigger whiff of that coconutty paradise. 

To Steve, horror movies weren’t all that bad. A lot of them were funny and cheesy. Totally entertaining enough that doing homework during them was probably possible. 

Horror movies made him adamant that the group stay together and stay put instead of getting involved, but no one ever listened to him. They wanted to go, get involved and split up, which were the worst horror movie tropes. Their lives had become just like the people in every horror movie he’d ever seen. There was no convincing his babysitting crew of that, though, so he took the lead every time.    “Vampire, zombie, deranged burn victim with knife fingers, murderous goaltender…” Eddie went through the list. “What flavor monster goes best with trigonometry?” Eddie pinched his chin with his fingers as he pondered it. “I wasn’t too thrilled with the first four Fridays. Not much to those plots. Not nearly enough razzle-dazzle." He graced Steve with jazz hands this time instead of spooky fingers. “Elm Street had a lot more going for it. Maybe I’ll take the sequel. Thoughts? Got a favorite?”   If Steve had even watched any of them. Though Eddie was a fan of most things horror - the more outlandish, the better - he didn’t watch them all that often. He didn’t have the patience to sit and focus for a long time without help from his favorite herb. It was good background noise, mostly. 

At least with D&D, he was actively participating. He didn’t have to sit still. He could move around, and he got to use his wickedly colorful ideas, feeding off of other people’s imagination and making a story come alive. 

Some things, like math homework, were so fucking stifling he wanted to shoot himself. 

It was hard for Steve not to notice Eddie’s jazzy hands. His fingers were adorned with a plethora of shiny rings. He was talking animatedly with them about the different movies. The shininess of the rings caught his eye, especially with the extra movements. 

Steve hadn’t been into movies before he got this job. (Robin was the one who really got it for him, talking Keith into it somehow.) Back then, he could only name two movies: Animal House and Fast Times. He’d come a long way since then and had a lot of downtime in the store since they were only busy on evenings and weekends. 

When he and Robin worked together, they always put a movie on or had one going. They’d gone through most of the horror. He’d entertained Robin to no end when he’d talk back to the TV, putting his hands on his hips and yelling, “No. No, don’t go in there! What are you doing? No!”  

Steve looked down at his watch. Still an hour and a half was left of his shift. Also, the closest thing to jewelry he wore was his watch, but Eddie’s rings did seem… dare he say… cool. Maybe he could pull off a ring or two.  

“I agree they should’ve stopped with the first Friday.” He didn’t really have a favorite. “They’re all pretty good for what they are, but I think you should go with the sequel, yeah. You already have an idea of the characters, so you don’t have to pay too close attention and can get your homework done.” 

While Steve was checking his watch and probably wishing for his shift to be over, Eddie was dragging his heels. He was surprised to find he would’ve been okay hearing Steve talk more about movies. He didn’t sound particularly passionate about horror. It made Eddie wonder what he did like. Probably some predictable slapstick with lots of boobs, like Porky’s. 

“Joy,” he replied, thinking of his homework waiting for him and almost letting out a whine. 

Steve grabbed the movie off the shelf and headed towards the counter so he could get Eddie checked out. 

“Guess that’s that,” Eddie added in a mutter Steve couldn’t hear. Eddie followed him, drumming his hands on the countertop as Steve pulled up his account and started typing away.

It was best that Eddie left before he decided to do something like lean in and smell the guy on purpose this time.    While he waited, he sifted through the snack selections, unsettling all the organized displays. He stuck his hand in one of the round glass jars, dislodging the loosest ring from his finger as he rifled through it for a fistful of fizzy candies. The ring fell to the bottom of the jar, unnoticed by Eddie, who slapped the sweets on the counter. He also grabbed a box of Nerds, a bag of Skittles, and a Big Hunk bar on impulse. Steve smiled a bit because usually, it was only bratty kids begging their moms for candy that got it from them. Steve didn’t mind that Eddie was getting more than the movie. When he saw everything he was getting, though, he couldn’t help but judge some of it. Most of it was the real sugary stuff. The Big Hunk bar was the only thing he could get behind. 

“These are addicting,” Steve said about the Big Hunk bar. He could feel his mouth starting to water just looking at it.

Likes Big Hunk bars. Eddie filed that information away in his head without really knowing why. It wasn't like he’d need to use it later. 

“I'm gonna need a bag,” he informed Steve. These pants did not have usable pockets. 

“Of course.” Steve nodded, swallowing his spit as he started bagging everything up.  

He wondered if Eddie was high. All this candy made him think that he had the munchies or was going to later. Most of the kids at school got their weed from him, so it wasn’t a stretch. 

Ah, he could remember the last time he got caught getting high. His dad had accused him of being on drugs. He could remember just saying he wasn’t and that marijuana wasn’t drugs. That hadn’t gone over well. 

Once everything was rung up, Steve told Eddie the amount, took the cash and got him his change. He handed over the bills and coins and pushed the bag of candy and movie toward him. “Enjoy...” 

“Thanks, big boy,” Eddie said, grabbing the bag with a tongue click and a wink.

He left the store, mouthing big boy? to himself in a split second of internal embarrassment before he shrugged it off and hopped in his van, taking off down the road towards the trailer park.  

Steve’s eyebrows rose and then furrowed. A shiver ran through his body like an electric shock, unsure what that was about or what caused that reaction in him. 

Slowly, he realized. Maybe there was a reason he’d never seen a girl on Eddie’s arm.

Steve stood there for a few minutes, perplexed by what had happened, until he snapped out of it and started straightening up the store. There probably wouldn’t be any more customers tonight. While Steve was re-organizing the candy Eddie had disheveled, he saw that one of the jars was low, nearing empty. He grabbed some candy to refill it when something shiny caught his eye. 

He reached in and pulled out a large skull ring. Eddie must’ve left it behind by accident.

Only when Eddie was settled in for the night with his homework open, the movie on, and his candy pile rapidly dwindling did he notice one of his rings missing. 

“Shit,” he swore, looking at his naked finger where a fanged skull used to be. That one had been his favorite. 

He looked around inside the trailer and outside of it with his uncle’s flashlight, but nothing shiny turned up in the beam.

Steve thought about calling Eddie up and letting him know he could come get his ring, but then he put it on and looked it over, smiling. He could totally pull off a ring like this. 

He’d try it out for a day or two, then give it to Dustin to give it back to Eddie when he saw him next. They were good friends now, to Steve's dismay. He wasn't jealous of anything. 

Eddie didn't seem too bad... for a freak.  

[theresattrpgforthat]

My wife's looking for a TTRPG where you run a store. I don't know why she wants this but as her husband I must deliver, hit me up please noble ttrpg purveyors

THEME: Running A Store

Hello! I have quite a few games that I’ve recommended in the past for this, so I’m going to direct you to a few of those first. I have a Markets and Trade rec post that you might want to check out, for example, as well as a post about Tavern Games. There will also be a considerably sizeable list at the end of this post.

Now, let’s see what else we can find. Most of these look like they’re specifically for running a cafe, if not for some kind of food service. That being said, the goals for each of these games are very different!

You Want Fries with That?, by Matthew Landrum

Welcome to our company! We’re sure you will find working at our restaurant rewarding and fulfilling as you deliver meaningful dining experiences, develop marketable employee skills, and enrich company value.  Just trust in the guidance of the General Manager, and remember, we’re all family here! 

In You Want Fries with That? each player takes the role of an employee in a fast-food restaurant, scrambling to meet customer needs and find meagre satisfaction in their work.

This is a cutthroat game of struggling to keep up with customer orders in a fast-food environment. Play happens over a number of rounds, in which players will cover for each-other’s weaknesses, strategically take breaks to conserve your stamina (and your enthusiasm), and battle against wage theft, angry managers, and rapid promotions.

If you want a chance for your characters to interact with each-other and role-play, you’ll want a different game than this. But if you want a survival game that takes place in a hostile environment, consider this one!

Twenty (Stories Tall), by kumada1.

On good days, when the weather is clear, you can see the end of the world from your window. You work in a little coffee shop in the Inner Circle. It's one of many coffee shops and kiosks in the city of Abject, and if there were other cities left in existence, they would probably think the people of Abject have a bit of a coffee problem. There is no food scarcity, no one starves in order for coffee beans to be grown, but the volume of beans produced here is truly extraordinary, and they are ground, brewed, and consumed daily at hundreds of quaint little bistros across the city.

Your shop, with its little bites to eat and its trendy décor, is no different from the others but for one important factor---you.

Ever since you came of working age, there's been a power stirring in your blood. Sometimes, when you get too bored, or too angry, or otherwise too emotional, you grow. You grow from Small to Medium, Medium to Large, Large to Twenty. And at Twenty (stories tall), you're big enough to go toe-to-toe with the monsters that would destroy your city.

Twenty is a 50 page tabletop roleplaying game about fighting monsters and working in food service. Twenty uses things you could find in a coffee shop instead of dice, and it regards relationships as hit points. It's suitable for oneshot or campaign play, and it comes with a starter adventure.

The theme of running a shop is definitely here, but the target of your character abilities look to be aimed more at fighting giant monsters. It’s also a game that encourages you to think about the stresses and horrors of customer service. If you like a game that’s a bit tongue-in-cheek, then this is the game for you!

Whistling Wolf Cafe: Multiplayer Edition, by Lucky Newt Games.

Thank you for joining us at Whistling Wolf Café! Our motto is “You might not always get what you want, but you’ll always get what you need.” Serving customers by giving them what they need to feel better instead of what they prefer can be tricky, but I trust that your amazing tea-brewing skills will win them over. 

There’s a small shop next door with things that might help you, and people looking for a bit of work. Just be sure you use your own tips to purchase them or the owner will be, well, not so happy. Also, I hate to say it, but the more bad reviews you get, the worse it looks for both of us. So do what you can to avoid that.

Whistling Wolf Café is a café sim game for 2-4 players. You are a master brewer who is more focused on what a customer might need rather than what they want, and that can complicate things. All you need per player is a deck of playing cards, a handful of six-sided dice, and something to take notes with. Between a shared Shop and a few different items, player interaction is built into the game.

If you like games that are about taking care of other people, this game might be up your alley. It looks like there’s also a balance component - how many customers can you serve, and how well can you brew your tea? The descriptions for the tea and food offered in the cafe look absolutely scrumptious. Definitely worth checking out!

Coffee & Chaos, by CobblePath Games.

Coffee & Chaos is a comedy tabletop roleplaying game about running a cafe, bar, restaurant or other establishment as everything goes very, very wrong around you.

Coffee & Chaos allows characters to retain all of their quirks from any other games they might be in. Your druid can still wildshape, your street samurai still has their cyber-arm. But when taken out of their element the focus is on how they use those skills and abilities to solve problems (or accidentally make things worse).

I like the idea of transporting your already-created characters into a new setting, and Coffee and Chaos certainly does this. Your character will have three approaches to problems: Knives (direct approaches), Forks (creative approaches), and Spoons (considered approaches). Coffee and Chaos is designed for comedy more than realism. The goal for this game is fun stories more than anything else.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Poutine, by the Kinematic Cafe.

Sweaters by Hedgehog, by Haunted Oak Press

Spirited Cafe, by A Couple of Drakes.

A Diner at the End, by Bammax Games.

Merchant, by Hella Big Claws.

Fox Curio's Floating Bookshop, by lostwaysclub.

[thesolarangel]

A touch of cinnamon and spice

Chapter 1

Summary: Eddie and Steve meet for the first time at college under awkward circumstances. Well, at least for Eddie.

1.438 words · Rated: G · College AU, no upside down · fluff, pining, getting together, cozy cute fall fanfic with minimum drama and zero angst or warnings!

Thanks again to @elronds-pointy-ears for reading my first unhinged draft and giving me some thoughts on how to deepen the interactions between them! @niennawept for beta reading my edited draft, you helped me so much, THANK YOU again! …. and for @lady-of-imladris for helping me choose a title! I love you guys!

Read on AO3 here

Chapter 1 · throwback · summer ‘86

“You’re kidding… College?” Eddie chuckled, staring at his uncle wide eyed.

They had been standing in the kitchen of their trailer home, a few weeks after Eddie had graduated, discussing where he could go from there. If it were up to Eddie, he’d just get famous with his metal band “Corroded Coffin” right away and tour the country, but these things didn’t happen over night. And it wasn’t like Wayne decided over Eddie’s life. He was of age, he could decide on his own. But Wayne’s opinion mattered to him greatly. This man had provided for Eddie for half of his life and he was deeply grateful for that.

Wayne crossed his arms and looked at him sternly. “Listen, kid, I know high school was tough –”

���That’s the understatement of the year, right there.” Eddie snorted.

He had managed to get his high school diploma on the third try. Keeping up with homework and studying for exams never came easy to him. He had had trouble concentrating and listening to what was being discussed in class and the teachers labeled him as lazy without even trying to get through to him.

When it came to math, history and other school subjects that Eddie found boring, it was almost like there was an invisible force pulling his attention away, keeping him from concentrating and it was very hard to fight that.

But eventually, with the help of a terrific new guidance counselor that had transferred to his school that year and the support of his uncle, he had made it somehow. Alumni of ‘86, baby!

“Eddie, you’re incredibly talented when it comes to the stuff you’re interested in. You’re creative, driven… I’ve seen the artwork you put up in your room… and you learned that puppet song within a week it came out.”

“Master of Puppets”, Eddie corrected him. And how could he not, it was a legendary piece by his favorite band.

“All I’m sayin’ is, would be pretty unfortunate if you wasted that kinda potential, son.”

He was right. Eddie did have a different mindset when it came to drawing, writing his own lyrics or shredding away on his guitar.

“Alright, I’ll think about it.” Eddie sighed.

A while later he had applied to a few public colleges in the area that had art programs. For his application portfolio Eddie had collected some design work he did for the promotion of their band, some pencil sketches and several elaborate fantasy drawings he did for his recent DnD campaign. And he had gotten in!

_______

October 5th 1987

Fall had always been Eddie’s favorite season ever since he was little. The deep red color of the fallen maple leaves was his favorite color and he secretly loved crunching the dry leaves under his boots. With every passing day of summer, he looked forward to cooler temperatures, horror movie nights and of course: Halloween. While planning his costume in his head, he put the hood of his parka over his unruly brown hair and made his way to class.

This was going to be his 3rd semester of studying fine art and so far he was doing really well, despite his own doubts. Learning about the subjects he was interested in and acquiring new creative skills had proven to be much more straightforward and uncomplicated for him than high school stuff.

College had given Eddie the chance for a fresh start. For the first time, he wasn’t the freak, the loser, the kid with the weird hair who listened to “devil” music. The university offered all kinds of programs and they had a big art department ranging from photography and fine art to design and film-making. So naturally, there were plenty of art nerds, film geeks and a variety of young people studying alongside Eddie. He fit right in and he had also made some new, real friends.

Jonathan, his roommate, was studying photography and English and wanted to become a journalist. He already wrote a weekly column in the school’s paper. Jonathan was the intelligent, kind, introverted type with short shaggy dark blonde hair and inconspicuous appearance. Eddie connected with him through his open-mindedness and his passion for music.

Argyle lived in another dorm down the hall. He studied film-making and worked part time at a local pizza shop from where he often swiped pizzas for them. He was a laid-back, approachable guy, who got along with everyone and also hugged everyone when he had the chance. With his long black hair, tall stature and colorful clothing, he stood out in most places.

Eddie thought he was very lucky to have met them since making friends had never been easy for him in the past. Both of them were very easy to get along with and they also had a lot of shared interests.

…

Eddie arrived at a seemingly empty classroom, illuminated by the bright morning sun. Several canvas stands and some chairs were set up for the students. He chose a seat and dropped his bag and coat on the back of the chair.

When he sat down and combed through his backpack for his pencil case, he heard something rustling from behind the nearby folding screen. Obviously not thinking this through, Eddie wandered over and found –

Oh.

His eyes landed on the muscular naked back of a stranger who was in the process of getting undressed. Eddie froze. Unable to take his eyes off of this guy’s athletic physique. His tanned skin was patterned with plenty of freckles that looked like stars in a beautiful constellation which Eddie desperately needed to explore. Those jeans hugged his butt perfectly and when he took them off, they revealed tight black boxer briefs and broad hairy thighs. Eddie wanted nothing more than to have his head crushed by those legs. Oh, what a way to go.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

A voice ripped him from his fantasy. Fuck.

The gorgeous stranger was now facing Eddie with both hands on his hips and a slightly cocky expression. Eddie noticed his beautiful hazel eyes, pouty lips and effortlessly styled hair. His strong chest was even hairier than his legs and a dark little happy trail disappeared at the rim of his underwear which displayed a significant bulge.

Fuuuuck.

“I’m so sorry!” Eddie almost yelled when he realized he had been staring. He could feel the burn of embarrassment on his face but like a deer in headlights, he stood there completely frozen.

The brunette smirked. “Don't worry about it, you're gonna see me nude in a minute anyhow", he replied in a smug voice. Eddie went even redder if that was at all possible.

Right, they were going to do nude sketches today, to learn some anatomy… Eddie felt he had already learned a lot.

“Alright, I’m gonna, uh… go, yes, I’m gonna go set up”, he stumbled backwards, averting the stranger’s view.

Little by little the classroom filled with students and their tutor arrived and gave them a quick instruction on sketching techniques when drawing from a live model. Two other students closed the door and blinds and placed a small platform in the middle of the room. They were ready to start drawing.

The handsome stranger emerged completely naked from behind the folding screen. He seemed very secure in his body, judging the way he stepped gracefully onto the platform, striking a pose the tutor had asked for.

Eddie tried so hard to look at him in a professional manner as he began sketching his beautiful body. He roughly outlined his proportions with some charcoal on his sketchbook. He tried to keep a straight face when his view landed on the model’s dick. And what a gorgeous one it was… Eddie felt his heart thump violently in his chest.

In a moment of carelessness when Eddie’s eyes wandered over his freckled skin upwards to his handsome face, their eyes locked. The brunette gave him a wink and held his view. If he was flattered or amused, Eddie couldn’t tell, his face was burning up once again and he tried to hide behind his sketchbook.

Focus, Munson. You just gotta keep it together for 20 more minutes!

His hand swept over the paper, messily sketching and filling in the model silhouette with charcoal. At this point, he didn’t care if the drawings turned out badly, he just wanted to get out of there, away from this awkward situation. Once he was done, he quickly packed up his stuff and rushed out of the classroom.

...

To be continued...

tag list: @starlady66 @bananaphanta @runawaymun @mistergandalf @fenharel-enaste @queenmeriadoc @elronds-pointy-ears @hbyrde36 @hammity-hammer @corrodedbisexual @spoookysix @rozzieroos @cranberrymoons

devider by @firefly-graphics

[dailyadventureprompts]

Footnotes on foes: Eldrazi

Hey DMs, do you need an unfeeling aberrant force to threaten your campaign world at various scales but don’t want to use mindflayers? Bored of lovecraftian knockoffs threatening to drown reality in abstract but unspecified “madness”? Well have I got the monster for you friends, It’s the Eldrazi: an unknowable and all consuming horde that’s here to reduce your setting to nothingness.

I’ve always had a fondness for the Eldrazi after they originally debued in magic the gathering, alien beings that sap all life from their surroundings and seem to have no other aims beyond the total and complete obliteration of whatever world they happen to dwell on. (plus they have a super cool look, and in the end isn’t that what matters?)

Eldrazi have a lot of mystery surrounding them, but in trying to puzzle them out I came up with my own headcanon that was too good not to use.  Below the cut I’ll go into detail on how I think the eldrazi function, and how you can best use them in your campaigns.

TLDR: The eldrazi are the great decomposers of the multiverse, reducing dead worlds down into their base components, and then into dust to be reabsorbed by the cosmic cycles of the astral sea. A perfectly natural process, but one that can go catastrophically wrong should the eldrazi be drawn to a world that has not yet died as they often are by witless dabblers or disruptions to those same astral currents. When they end up on a world they’re not supposed to be they end up creating wastelands, fighting against nature like an infection.  

While they’re scattered about many regions of the astral sea where stagnation looms, the eldrazi mainly occupy a region of the multiverse known as the dead realms, a cosmic landfill where realities decay into one another and the faceless horrors can do their work.

It is important to note that the eldrazi are not a species, or in many ways actual organisms: Each eldrazi brood (differentiated by trends in their alien anatomy and what they transmute material into) is the intrusion of a singular will into the cosmos with its own aims, which constructs its bodies from the errant energies of whatever world it happens to interface with. This makes communication with the eldrazi highly difficult, especially for those who encounter them without prior knowledge, as the will that pilots an eldrazi brood experiences the whole of the brood at once, many bodies at once, many dimensions at once. Even the most intelligent and independent members of a brood are merely hands in comparison with the greater body, able to exert a greater tactile degree of control but not actively conscious.

This alien existence extends to their anatomy: resembling summoned or illusory creatures, the body of an individual Eldrazi lacks blood or organs, and is instead a notional matter primarily used to store the magical potential they sap out of the worlds they digest. When an eldrazi dies they do not rot, instead they erode, the magic that composes their being leaking back into the laylines they siphoned dry.  Such transference can cause surges of wild magic proportional to the size and number of the brood slain.

This lack of a physiognomy extends to how Eldrazi seem to “breed”, budding like fungus or grotesquely merging to form larger bodies, which amounts to the prime entity behind the brood splitting up its focus for multiple tasks.  Sometimes the entity needs to actively participate in its act of decomposition, in which case the brood begins draining all it can, growing all it can, and then merging together into an eldrazi titan. These entities can lay waste to landscapes but also think in ways the disparate brood could do nothing about.

Eldrazi have a strange relationship with magic, in that their singular goal seems to be to extract the magical/living/quintessential essence out of dead worlds, meaning they become very adept at reading and manipulating systems that are built upon these primal currents. Eldrazi broods spread along a plane’s laylines like mushrooms along a rotten branch, sapping at its nutrients till the line goes dead and the landscape with it. This infection can even spread to enchantments, curses, and magical constructs, bringing them into a titan’s influence and even providing a seedbed for the growth of more eldrazi.

Very little of this information is well known by planear scholars, and even less of it is understood by those who might encounter stray eldrazi that’ve ended up scattered on their worlds. What most understand is that the Eldrazi show up following great magical disasters, create a wasteland wherever they go, and seem to have an innate ability to overcome and subvert magical defences. Most are content simply to hunt them on sight, and the prime eldrazi seem more than content to let their stray buds be culled while they focus on the real task of eating worlds.

Adventure Hooks:

High in the mountains there’s said to be the wreck of some kind of flying ship, that locals say they saw hurtling through the sky decades ago only to crash somewhere amid the peaks. The ship is in fact a spelljammer, and salvaging its helm might just be the first step in the party setting off on their first cosmic adventure. All is not well though, as when they begin exploring the high cliffs and isolated valley, they find ship and much of the surrounding landscape has been turned into a spiralling labyrinth of giant bismuth crystals, the haunt of a few eldrazi the jammer crew picked up while fleeing a dying world that ended up scuttling them in the end. 

Powerful spikes of magic draw the eldrazi across the planes, so after the mid-campaign villain attempts their apotheosis and fails miserably, not only to the party have to deal with whatever threat that unleashed, but increasing numbers of sightings of horrifying entities skulking about the countryside near the villain’s old lair. This gives the party a chance to re-explore an old dungeon, finding its corridors warped and its chambers filled with dust. 

Desperate to impress their supervisor by summoning a rare creature from the outer planes, a group of arcane grad students at the local magical college have unwittingly ended up snagging an eldrazi away from its brood, and are intent on studying it. For its part, the eldrazi seems oddly complacent, but is infact exerting its flesh warping influence on the students and the animals surrounding their lab. The party first gets involved tracking drown grotesque chimeras of ratswarms and stray beats, which invariably lead them through the increasingly organic sewers and up into the lab, where the eldrazi has broken containment.   Not all the students are accounted for, and while some got away with benign abnormalities, others have been incorporated into the brood, and will seek new places to take root.

Also, while there’s no official stats for eldrazi, a lot of great creators have already taken the challenge upon themselves, so I encourage you to go out and find some of their work.

[roserysttrpggarden]

Hi there~! It's been a long time coming, but here it is, my attempt at reworking the 5e warlock, due to my dissatisfaction with the version presented in One DND (5.5??) feature a whole host of reworked and altered options so you may be the best devil worshiper you can be, the rest of this post shall go over some of the changes made along with my intention behind the changes.

The base class.

For starters, eldritch blast is now a class feature. Simply put, every warlock takes eldritch blast, doesn't matter if you're focused on support, damage, or you're a weapon wielding hexblade, eldritch blast is such a good option, so I might as well give it as a base class feature. Similarly the agonizing blasts ability to add your charisma modifier to its damage rolls was added for similar reasons, skipping over the spellcasting, pact boon and invocation changes, the contact patron feature from the One DND UA was added for thematic purposes, and eldritch master was reworked to instead allow your patron to concentrate on a spell, which yes, does allow you to concentrate on two spells at one (At disadvantage)

Spellcasting.

The One DND warlock features the rather unique ability to choose between intelligence, wisdom or charisma as its casting stat, while I enjoyed the concept I decided to take it a step further by tying your spellcasting ability to the otherworldly patrons themselves, essentially using their spellcasting stat in a way.

Additional changes include you getting your 3rd-level slot at 6th-level as opposed to 11th, cause the highest most dnd campaigns reach are around 10-11th level, and it feels bad having to wait all the way until then just to cast three spells a day, some other changes of note include the warlock being able to ritually cast, and the spells gained from their otherworldly patron are now automatically prepared, rather than added to the warlock spell list. Which i'm not sure why they did that? Unless they though it'd break warlock somehow.

The Pact boons.

Basically every pact boon got upped in power, such as pact of the blade and pact of the chain, alongside them growing in strength when you reach 5th-level, in addition, two new pact boons were added. The first being the Pact of The Gunpowder, based on the Pact of The Trigger by MonkeyDM, its an eldritch blast/cantrip focused pact for those who want to truly commit themselves to the eldritch blast lifestyle, alongside the Pact of The Idol, allowing you to sacrifice your hit dice to perform various features.

Eldritch Invocations.

A selection of (Mostly new) invocations were made for this document, my favorite would have to be the ones given to the pact of the blade. Admittedly in the rush to get this out by the deadline I chose to cut back on the invocations in particular, but who knows, maybe when I get to revising this someday I can add even more invocations to the list.

Subclasses

All of the subclasses were revised in one way or another, but for the sake of time i'll go other three in particular: The Hexblade, The Horror and The Undying. The hexblade is a rather infamous subclass within the DND community in no small part cause of how strong a 1st-level dip is for many characters (Cough, paladin) but the more I looked at it, the more I found myself bored of it. Don't get me wrong the 5e hexblade is rather powerful, but it just doesn't scratch the itch of the cursed item patron, and with hex warriors main drawing being ported over to pact of the blade, reworking was a must. The horror (Originally called the undead) I generally don't have to many issues mechanics wise, in fact it's one of my favorite warlock subclass, my only gripe is cause of how much if steps on the undying toes flavor-wise, speaking of which, the undying is possibly the subclass I had the most fun reworking, transforming it into a tanky summon focused as opposed to....Whatever the original was trying to accomplish.

Along with the revision of old subclasses, three new subclasses are included: The Arcanist, The Dragon and The Evergreen. The arcanist is a pact with a powerful being of magic (Such as an archmage) it allows you to learn wizard spells from your pact magic feature, manipulate your spellcasting and eventually imbue spells into trinkets, the dragon are for those that simply want blast their foes away, you can create bursts of draconic energy, absorb elemental energy and even assume the form of a dragon, lastly the evergreen is for those that couldn't decide if they wanted to be a druid or a warlock, allowing you to create a garden around yourself that damages enemies, alongside implanting magic seeds within your foes and protecting allies within your garden against spells, similar to an ancients paladin.

New spells

Because I like making more work for myself, a handful of new spells are available at the end of the document, so I apologize if they're a bit on the lower end quality wise, but I hope they'll be at least somewhat interesting.

That's about all I wanted to talk about in relation to this rework, keep in mind everything in here is untested, and I encourage anyone reading this to leave any thoughts or constructive criticism they may have. With that in mind, thank you for reading, go out and make something cool.

[utilitycaster]

As someone who has expressed that creators should be more hostile to fans (agreed), I am curious about your thoughts on this EXU interlude, now that it’s complete, as a creative move for the campaign. I was also disappointed in the timing, for sure, but I am also deeply annoyed at the fans who are still out here expecting significant changes to CR’s clear strategy of highlighting content outside of the main campaign and diversifying their programming. That this is being lumped in with “everything CR is doing outside of the main campaign like Candela and Midst and EXU is boring and bad" and seeing people be so incredibly frustrated that they dared bring in EXU stuff into the sacred space of the main campaign (something that should've been clear from ep 1 when three of the crown keepers were there) makes me want to defend the decision on principal, but I am torn on if this actually worked or not. Perhaps a few more episodes with Dorian back are needed to solidify an opinion, idk.

(And, FWIW, I don't care if this was a production need or not, nor do I buy that this was to give Sam more time on character creation, I think it was a very deliberate creative choice and should be judged as such).

Hi anon,

I find myself in a similar position:

I think people who act like every off week from the main campaign is an affront (especially when Critical Role usually is very clear in saying so, whether it's for Candela, for a one-shot, or for interruptions like the sick day character creation q&a) fucking suck. It's fine if Midst and Candela aren't your thing - I think they're both excellent but if you don't care for horror or if you have difficulty following podcasts, that's valid - but this is part of Critical Role's programming! I also agree that people who were salty that Fearne and Orym came from EXU are annoying, and I agree that this was a deliberate creative choice and should be judged as such.

I still think, ultimately, this wasn't very well done. The timing was particularly bad as I discussed before, but also, even if the timing were great, I don't like that it was a surprise. Not so much because I hate surprises, but actually I would have really appreciated some time to review the (non-Orym and Fearne) Crown Keepers, who, as a group in some capacity, last were the PCs of an adventure 2 years ago in real time. It's been a hot second. I personally have some difficulty re: investment in the Crown Keepers that I'm going to throw onto a different ask I received and to be honest I wonder if I'm not alone and this was something they anticipated and so did this specifically so that it was unavoidable (or at least, would require effort to avoid). So yeah I don't want to say that experimentation with the format is a bad thing - I want Critical Role to do new and different stuff - but I think as long as you're not shooting down every new choice it is okay to dislike elements of this one.

As for whether it worked: what I can say is I enjoy where the Crown Keepers' story ended but I'm also pretty okay with this being the end of them as a party and only seeing them as NPCs or in unrelated scenarios (eg: Fy'ra popping up in a guest battle royale). If they show up as guests in the main campaign, that could be good too, but I'm honestly like...could we get Erica and Aabria on Candela as players and could we get more Anjali in everything always and could we do another totally unrelated EXU sometime soon?