#quality content at its finest

[mienacles]

Carmen sandiego cast as cursed roblox screenshots/Memes :3

Btw i posted this on insta too

[arcanegifs]

Caitlyn and Vi in Legend of Runeterra's Path of Champions Mode

[osachiyo]

𝕱𝖆𝖎𝖙 𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖈 𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖗 · dazai, chuuya & fyodor .ೃ࿐

· 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𐙚 none, gn reader, sfw content, fluff, petnames, headcanons + little scenarios, not proofread

· 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 𐙚 sorry these are really short, im just trying to clear out as many requests as i can for now :') i was gonna add sigma n fukuzawa too but i wanted to get it out asap so i can work on my other wips. also ! i might focus a little more on fluff for the time being :) happy reading and hope you guys enjoyed !

𝖘𝖞𝖕𝖓𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖘... just some cute scenarios with some of the bsd men ᡣ𐭩

dazai.. was an interesting man. he never got flustered no matter how much you flirted with him, not even blushing when you did provocative actions like sitting on his lap, or whispering dirty words into his ear.

instead, he somehow counters your lines with his own — leaving you the one flustered.

but when you give him genuine compliments, or do something nice for him genuinely from the goodness of your heart, the same man who's seemingly unaffected by your advances, somehow turns into putty — melting in the clutch of your warm grasp.

in the quiet sanctuary of your shared bedroom, you hummed sweet words against dazai's dark locks, your lips finding solace on the crown of his head. "you're so pretty," you whispered, a genuine compliment that seemed to momentarily lift the weight of his rough day.

"darling, not as pretty as you," he chuckled, his voice muffled as he buried his face in your chest. the day had taken its toll on him, a tough mission leaving him with more than a fair share of injuries. but those details could wait for another time.

for dazai, these moments were treasures. lying in your arms or having you nestled in his, the simple pleasure of each other's company became a haven. the absence of distractions allowed him to savor the rare peace he found with you, a feeling that almost made him giddy.

your words, genuine and warm, were like a balm for his weary soul. in these moments, he set aside his usual snarky quips and jokes, content to bask in the embrace and scent that spoke of comfort and home. the sincerity in your praise quickened his heartbeat, and for once, dazai didn't need to hide behind humor.

though his face was hidden from your view, dazai couldn't conceal the flush of pink spreading across his cheeks. it was a secret shared only with the solitude of your embrace — a silent acknowledgment of the vulnerability and affection that blossomed in these stolen moments of peace.

considering chuuya's job, you two don't get to spend too much time together. but you had already known and accepted that when you started dating him.

though, when you two do get to spend some quality time together — it's all worth it. he makes sure to spoil you with his affection and attention when he has the chance — making up for all the time he's neglected you.

and after a whole day of getting spoiled by him — visiting fancy and expensive places, tasting amazing food, drinking the finest wine, you finally get to relax at home with your favorite person.

"quit scrunching that handsome face, babe," you sighed, smoothing the furrowed lines of his brows with your thumbs, delicately working the cleanser into his skin. chuuya simply hummed, surrendering to the soothing sensation and leaning into your touch.

"and what's the deal with this?" he asked, his arms enveloping your waist — right where they belonged. "it's just cleanser, does what it says — cleans your skin." chuuya hummed again, drawing small circles on your hips, "just make sure it stays out of my eyes, okay?" you rolled your eyes, adjusting yourself on his lap for better comfort, "obviously."

after rinsing off the cleanser and following through with the skincare routine you'd picked, chuuya stared at his reflection in the mirror — bunny headband adorning his head, bangs swept back and away from his face, which now felt surprisingly soft. "holy shit, my face feels so...smooth?" he blinked, gently squishing his own cheeks. you approached from behind, planting a tender kiss on his neck — "i did tell you my skincare routine works wonders."

"heh, yeah," he chuckled, turning to face you, playfully squishing your cheeks together before planting a soft kiss on your lips, "now it's your turn, love. your skin deserves some of that magic too."

fyodor was a busy man, you always catch him in that dimly lit room — typing away while staring at his monitors. with all the plotting, scheming and hacking — he never really has any time left to take real care of himself.

and that's exactly what you're here for — dragging him out of the dingy room, not paying any attention to his complaints or threats, you know he doesn't mean them.

taking off his ushanka, you wonder how much time had it actually been since he's properly washed his hair — but you didn't ask him that, knowing he'd be even more irritated.

fyodor's complaints ceased once you proposed a shared bath, both of you disrobing before slipping into the warm water. the temperature, meticulously adjusted to his liking, showcased your thoughtful consideration. though the usual positions were reversed, with him against your chest, it was necessary for you to tend to his hair.

"right there, love," fedya sighed in content, tilting his head back and savoring your touch. your fingers massaged the shampoo into his hair, focusing on his scalp. "feel good, huh?" you smiled, placing sweet kisses on the pale skin of his exposed neck before gently rinsing away the shampoo from his raven locks.

these tranquil moments held a special place in his heart. simple yet profound, they kindled a warmth within him. your loving gaze had the power to thaw even his typically cold heart. in those tender glances, he found a promise to himself — to craft the perfect world for both of you.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[satoruwiki]

Naoya nsfw and sfw relationship headcanons pleeeaasse . He's a terribly guilty pleasure and not many people write him (probably because he's a toxic sh*t)

omg anon you’re so right bc who would want an absolute toxic misogynistic fuck of a man (me, i do/j) i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor, sorry! btw i may or may not be working a second version of the atrocious fic i did a few days ago abt him… if its of anybody’s interest…

͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ♡₊˚ Naoya is the type of man to…𓈒 ˚ ⟡

content: jjk headcanons; half sfw/half nsfw; afab!reader; glimpse of the horrors you’d be going through as his partner lol

n/a: i’m making more content for naoya than my glorious blue eyed king lmao ;-;

these are my hcs! feel free to agree or disagree :b any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3

sfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… spoil you rotten. Not because you deserve it—maybe you do—but because one of Naoya’s biggest weaknesses is his pride and reputation, and yours affects his. He can’t have his gf/fiancée/wife wearing low-quality or average clothing, you have to look worthy of him (at least on the outside). So he will gift you kimonos made with the finest fabric and the finest accessories to pair with. If you’re smart enough, you might be able to take advantage of that and manipulate him to buy you whatever you want, but you better be kissing the soil he walks on afterwards.

Naoya is the type of man to… be overprotective and ridiculously jealous. You won’t be able to go out by yourself. Not without him being there or at least one of his servants, what if another man tries to have a conversation with you? What if you flirt back? He doesn’t trust you or anyone but himself. He has to make sure you aren’t fooling around. Besides, you’re so weak—or at least that’s what he thinks—you need someone to protect you. What if someone disrespects you? He can’t let that slide, the only one allowed to treat you poorly is him.

Naoya is the type of man to… secretly like your praises. He won’t tell you, of course, but he does like having someone recognizing his strength—the main reason he’s so protective of you, trying to look like a knight in shining armour—and how great he is on his day-to-day basis. He will be pissed whenever you get mad at him and don’t praise him. He won’t say it directly nor apologize for whatever he did, but you might find an ‘apology’ gift on your side of the bed. If it’s a mistake you did—which to him is always going to be your fault—an easy way to get him to be in a better mood is stroking his ego with lots of praise.

Naoya is the type of man to… expect you to be the perfect wife. Naoya is a very demanding man, he expects nothing but perfection. He expects you to always look pretty, cook, and clean, like your typical traditional wife. Being a conservative man, he will expect you to not speak when gathering with the other clansmen—or outside in general—unless you’re allowed to. It’s for your good, he’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.

Naoya is the type of man to… only marry you for benefits. In matters of love, he is quite unfeeling, however, to maintain his position as the head of the Hei, he must get married and have offspring. This burden, as he would call it, is likely to be done through an arranged marriage. Just because you were chosen over the other bachelorettes doesn't necessarily mean you're at the same level as him—you will always be below him, and perhaps unworthy of him to his eyes—but you're definitely better than the rest, or at least you were the prettiest one. You might be of use to him.

nsfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… degrade the hell out of you. Naoya’s degradation IS NOT for the weak. If he already treats you relatively poorly daily, it gets worse when he fucks you. He’s also going to fuck you rough, so don’t even try to ask him to go slower, he won’t comply. Don’t worry though, he might make sure that you cum (even to the point of overstimulating you) as it boosts up his ego, it makes him think he’s so good he can have his partner squirting for him and begging for more—this is only when he's in a good mood though, otherwise, he couldn't care less if you cum or not.

Naoya is the type of man to… head push you on purpose for you to gag on his dick. He likes the messy and filthy look on your tear streaked face and drool running down your chin, it makes him want to shoot his load on you (which he will).

Naoya is the type of man to… slap you, during or outside sex. Naoya is very ill-tempered, he’s prone to get physical and slap you (just look at how he used to bully maki and mai) or have angry sex with you. Whether it was your fault or someone else’s, he’ll blow off some steam fucking you stupid, and expect you to have bruises frequently.

Naoya is the type of man to… punish you while fucking. Like I said before, Naoya is very prone to angry sex and will punish you as he fucks you. Expect lots of choking, spitting, clit and face slapping and probably your ass bruised as well as your scalp, he wont take in consideration of his strength and yank it hard.

Naoya is the type of man to… use you as his cum dumpster. He doesn’t care if you’re in the mood or not, that’s what you’re there for, basically. He just got back from a meeting with the clansmen and he’s stressed? Get on your knees and suck him off. He's mad? Bend over or spread your legs. You better not object or make any sort of complaint, just take it like a good girl. Chances are that you end up pregnant (because he’s the type to forbid you from using birth control), he hopes it's a boy or he’s gonna blame it on you. (even if he’s the one responsible for the baby’s gender but ok)

Naoya is the type of man to… have a feet kink. I literally have no explanation for this one, just look at his face and tell me he does not have a thing for feet 😭

[legiblyloathed]

Ain’t He Darling? (Chapter 2)

Yandere! Wally Darling x Reader

A/N: This has gone from a oneshot to a twoshot to what’s now shaping up to be at least a five chapter story and for that I apologize. The “date” with Wally was only meant to be half a chapter and now it’s a full one. I will, in fact, learn nothing from this and will continue to accidentally increase my workload in the future. Many thanks for the kind comments on chapter 1, and I hope you enjoy chapter 2!

People who requested to be tagged; @whynot5243 @tikosan @itsyellow @twerkingnutella18 @azoart Y’all keep me going, I wish you the best.

Prev ——— Next

You know, maybe it was hasty to imagine Wally killing me as the worst case scenario. I think I’d take getting murdered in the woods over the uncomfortable silence I’ve been stewing in all afternoon.

Or at least, the silence is making me uncomfortable. Ever since I dragged myself out of the house to paint with him like I promised, I’ve spent damn near every minute avoiding eye contact like it’d kill me. Not that it seems to be working, as every time I glance up from my painting, I can see him out of the corner of my eye, and without fail he’s always focused on me. How he’s managed to finish his own drawing in between these moments is beyond me, but the way the easels are laid out, I can’t see his canvas anyway. There’s every chance it’s blank, and he just coerced me out here to stare at me without interruption.

But now, the sky is shifting to a myriad of colors, and I send up a silent thank you to the heavens for the excuse to leave. “Well, this has been fun,” I start, wiping the excess paint on my hands onto the apron he loaned me. “But I don’t wanna have to walk home in the dark, so I’d best be off.”

“It has been fun, hasn’t it?” After who knows how long of complete silence, his voice makes me jump slightly. Wally takes a few slow, measured steps in my direction, stopping just a little too close to my personal bubble. His eyes glued to my messy painting of the woods, and his eternal smile seems to widen. “You’re good at this.”

I manage to let out a laugh. “Not really, but I appreciate it.” I glance over my own art at the back of his easel, morbid curiosity eating away at me. As much as I want to see what the resident weirdo drew when he wasn’t trying to burn a hole in my forehead, something tells me it’s better not to know.

Wally’s head turns slightly, following my gaze to his own artwork. “Oh, do you want to see mine?” he asks, not waiting for my answer as he walks over and grabs it off the easel. He stares down at it for a moment, as if ensuring its quality, then turns it around and holding it up for me to see. “I worked hard on it. What do you think?”

Upon examination, I think I should have chosen a different neighborhood to move into, one with less terrifying residents. Staring back at me is a portrait of none other than myself. I’m sitting on a bench, which, after a moment, I recognize as the one under the apple tree where Wally had been the day prior. I look relaxed, leaning back and resting my weight on my hands behind me, my attention drawn to something off to the right. As I scan it over, I note that I wasn’t drawn with the clothes I wore today, but the ones I had on yesterday, down to finest of details. It’s beautiful, and I hate it.

I’m left frozen in place, gawking at the perfect recreation of my likeness in silence. The man doesn’t seem to mind, content to let me take in the details of his piece as he in turn observes my reaction. When I manage to pull my attention back to his face, I stammer out, “That’s…” A hell of a red flag? My worst nightmare on a canvas? A fear I’d have deemed laughable before this moment? “…incredibly realistic.”

Wally turns the painting back to himself, looking down at it with an air of fondness. “I suppose it is. I can’t take all the credit, though.” His eyes look up at me, his head unmoving. “I had a very inspiring model.”

At this, I can feel the two sides of my brain start to feud. The optimistic side makes a good effort to insist that this explains the staring, that he just wanted to get the details right and I was wrong to treat it like a problem. The more realistic side then slaps the optimistic side upside the head and points out that no amount of staring could explain the sheer level of detail in clothes that I’m not even wearing today.

My thoughts continue to conflict with each other, the turmoil so strong that I don’t even register Wally getting closer until he’s barely a foot away from me. I jolt back, nearly falling over. He seems unbothered. “Say, neighbor, would you mind helping me carry all this back to Home? The paintings are delicate, I don’t want them getting crushed.”

Part of me really wants that painting getting crushed, but I don’t dare admit that out loud. Instead, I nod. “Alright, but we gotta hurry. It’ll be dark soon.” Already the sun is casting long shadows, obscured by the trees to the west. Wally and I pack up the paints and fold up the easels, and I balance them all in my arms while he holds the canvases to his chest. Together, the two of us set off towards the house in the center of the neighborhood.

No words are exchanged as we journey through the town. He seems content with the silence, and I’m content to not have to talk to him. It seems the rest of our neighbors have called it a day, Wally and I being the only two people out and about. The weight of the supplies makes my arms ache, but if the alternative is carrying a piece of art that feels just a little too haunted for my taste, I think I can tolerate the discomfort. I don’t know how the hell he managed to drag all of this junk out in the first place.

The sun has sunk down past the horizon by the time we make it to Home, painting the sky a myriad of purples and deep blues. It takes all I have left in me not to collapse upon the porch, made all the worse by Wally’s continued nonchalance as he opens the door and beckons me inside. I brush past him into the living room, dumping my armload of supplies onto the coffee table. With a weary huff, I throw myself down onto his couch to catch my breath, my eyes drooping shut.

“You feeling alright, there, neighbor?” The sofa sinks ever so slightly as he settles down beside me. When I don’t reply, too busy staring at my eyelids and regulating my heartbeat, he speaks with what almost feels like genuine concern, “If you were getting tired, you should have spoken up. I’d have been happy to take a break.”

I shake my head. “Fine, I’m fine. Just need a minute before I head home.”

There it is again, that damn laugh. “What do you mean? This is Home.” The sound of a door squeaking registers in my periphery, and I let my eyes open, squinting against the bright colors of his house. I take a glance out of the corner of my eye, and sure enough, his own are glued on my face with a smile that registers as a little too suspicious for my tastes.

An increasingly familiar sense of unease overtaking me, I push myself up and lean away from him, hoping he didn’t notice, yet knowing he did. “I mean yeah, it’s your home, Wally,” I say, “but I have my own home to get back to.”

He lets out a soft hum, and I swear his smile wavers for just a moment. “I suppose you do,” he murmurs, sounding like he was talking to himself more than me. Risking another glance, I’m surprised to see his eyes not on me, but focused on the paintings that he had leaned against his armchair. My portrait, with its flat, distracted gaze, seemed to be staring back at us from the angle at which it stood.

With this newfound distraction from his observation, I move to push myself up off the couch, snapping him out of whatever stupor he’d been wandering in. I make sure to speak before his mouth catches up to his brain. “Well, today’s been… fun, but I think I’m gonna head out.”

I feel a hand clasp around my forearm, and I barely bite back a yelp at the contact. “It’s pretty dark out there, neighbor. Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep here tonight? I think you’d be safer.”

Nope, nope, nope nope nope. I pull my arm away, praying it didn’t look as panicked as it felt. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll have to pass. It’s not that long a walk, I’ll be fine.” I step away towards the door, and my stomach sinks when I hear Wally get up as well.

As I prepare to head out, the same hand settles upon my shoulder instead. “Well, if you’re sure, I won’t stop you,” he drawls, a trace of emotion I can’t quite name evident in his tone. He slips past me, opening the door himself. He tilts his head, eyes locked on mine. “Let’s do this again sometime. Won’t that be nice?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a challenge. Straightening up, I stand in the doorframe and meet his stare as evenly as I can. “I’m sure it would be.” The evening chill washes over me as I exit Home. “Good night, Wally.”

“Good night, neighbor. Sleep well.” My steps are steady and even as I walk down the porch stairs, and the light still pouring out as I walk away tells me that the door is still open. That he’s still there, still watching me. I hurry along towards my house, being sure to break out of his line of sight as soon as possible. It doesn’t help with the paranoia, but I pretend it does.

Tears nearly stream down my face in relief as I enter my own home and close the door, leaning back against it and sliding down to the ground. I don’t bother getting up, not to eat, not to shower, nothing. I just sit there, alternating between keeping my eyes closed to try and relax and opening them when I see those horrible eyes taunting me in the inky black. As I feel myself drifting off, one final thought crosses into my mind:

I never got my painting back from Wally.

[callmeklair]

How would you rank the boys from most to least possessive? Kind of random question I know but I'm just interested in your opinion :3

it makes me really happy knowing you all love my opinions even though I feel like that's it's been long since I read a few routes and hopefully don't make any misinterpretation 😭

I didn't know what kind of interpretation you wanted so I gave my opinions in what way they were and now are possessive and why.

there are chances some people's ranking might not match with mine but I tried my best to rank the boys based on my (not so horrible) memories. it was difficult to do overall so I did family wise because many boys were ending up on a tie.

(don't forget to read the conclusion note!!)

I ranked based on them giving freedom to Yui from least to highest !!!

Sakamakis:

1. Ayato: it's wayyyy too obvious that Ayato is the most possessive out of all his brothers, and one of the reasons being Cordelia's obsession to make him no.1 which narrowed down his mentality to "yours truly" and always getting/acquiring "first class things" it can also be seen in the anime how obsessed he became to make Yui only his after being the first one to taste her blood, to the point he left hickeys on her before she went for a bath. I wouldn't say his possessiveness towards Yui was just as "a prey", more than that, his obsession to be number one due to Cordelia surpassed that reason as Yui's blood was considered special as it was the finest of its quality in the whole world, according to them.

Kanato: I haven't read his routes much, actually I tried to but just couldn't make myself sit through it, but based on what I have seen in anime and some routes, he is one of the most possessive ones after ayato (maybe?) and.... not in a good way. I don't think I need to expand on it because we all have sat through it in anime in scenes with Kanato. though there are chances he might have changed a little(?) in future games, Kanato stans are free to come and correct me because he is one of the characters whose content I have never read much.

Laito: it might be surprising to some but let me tell you, his possessiveness started on Yui as "a prey" behind that facade he puts on due to what Cordelia did to him. it's more like he is conflicted. his possessiveness is way too conflicted because of Cordelia. openly, people think that he let's Yui to be shared to others but I think it's more like, he don't wanna succumb to any feelings or have anyone special to him, to the point he don't wanna be possessive to someone in either good way or bad way. but ofc, after staying with Yui, he finally started to open up and slowly became possessive (in mid of MB maniac/ecstasy, then VC and further) I would say he is a silent possessive man, because people will think he is being carefree but he is indirectly protecting Yui (encounter with Carla and Shin in DF)

Reiji: the only reason Reiji is considered more possessive than Subaru is because of his obsession to not let Yui in contact with Shu, which is of course because he was scared. Seeing how everything eventually belonged to Shu, no matter if he wanted it or not, meanwhile he, Reiji, being neglected by everyone, even servants, he was scared to lose Yui to Shu. and thus he was such a nasty possessive man in the first game, but his character slowly developed and his possessiveness turned towards the direction of sweetness. it was good to see how he went from being scared of Shu snatching Yui away to not feeling the fear anymore and having full on trust on Yui which is a very big thing in Reiji's case.

Subaru: because of his distrust in women due to his mom, even though he was possessive with Yui, it was not in a good way but, thankfully, eventually as he became comfortable with her, he slowly became a sweet gentle boy. what I liked the most was that despite being possessive he let Yui freely roam around but magically appeared whenever someone advances at her. tsundere.

Shu: my lazy sloth, who doesn't want to have anyone close to him because of his past. he was the least possessive for obvious reasons but gradually as his relationship with Yui developed and he came out of his bubble, his possessive side could be seen. Just like the other two before, he did give freedom to Yui but easily gets jealous so his possessiveness was never in a bad way that much.

Mukamis:

(these brothers were so hard to rank because they are equal to each other when it comes to possessiveness)

Kou: ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌ he was very much possessive of Yui in MB but in a very wrong way due to obsession of Adam's apple plan but thankfully by the end of ecstasy he started becoming a little normal. he gets easily jealous, so Yui always watch out for herself. in conclusion, he is the most possessive in his brothers and thankfully it went from toxic to normal possessiveness.

Ruki: livestock. yes that's the word he used to rationalise his toxic possessiveness towards Yui for completion of his plan. it was cute to see how he went from being possessive as "master" to being possessive as a jelly boyfie. plus one of the reasons he is very possessive with Yui is because he can never get any "undisturbed" alone time with her due to his brothers which makes his actions ,when he is being possessive with her, very cute.

Yuma: my sweet Gardner boy. (Yuma Stans help me because I'm out of words (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠))

Azusa: my cinnamon roll and one of the members of "eve's no. 1 protector" club. Azusa is cutely possessive (if we ignore the knife obsession in starting). best boi, will do anything for Yui. Might not look possessive of Yui but he secretly is but more than that, to him her happiness matters the most. I read somewhere that in his route in chaos lineage it was revealed he asked Karlheinz to turn back time 3-4 times??? I'm not sure if i remember it correctly but this also directs towards how he remembers in almost most of the routes in CL, and in some, to us readers, it's indirectly hinted that he remembers but he is hiding it.... but that's a topic for another day. also feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. and we got distracted from the topic.......

Tsukinamis:

Shin: insecure possessiveness. after losing his eye and getting his pride hurt, his only aim was to surpass his brother, Carla, which he was never able to. just like how Carla wanted recognition from his father, Shin wanted recognition from his older brother. this is why he was so obsessed to get Yui in every single route, even in his own route. this is why I loved his route, because of the development. minor details matter too. his toxic possessiveness turning into normal boyfriend possessiveness yet the goal to acquire her remaining the same but not in toxic way (LE being an example when he pushed Yui away to keep her safe no matter how much he wanted her.)

Carla: he is such a beautiful composed character, that people aren't aware about the rate of his possessiveness. unless you have read any Carla route, you won't know how bad is the possessive rate in Tsukinami family. as he was raised to be a king, he hides his emotions well which is also the reason why it took him time to realise his own feelings but when he did, the possessiveness (⁠ﾉ⁠´⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ ⁠ﾐ⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

because of DF Shin, Carla is on second rank or else his LE route was dangerous for my heart. ifykyk

→ I didn't rank kino because I'm totally not aware with his character so I didn't wanna make any wrong interpretation.

in conclusion: all of them were toxic-ly possessive at some rate but slowly as the more time they spent with Yui and developed their character, their nature of possessiveness also started to change. I rated the possessiveness based on the freedom they allow Yui for.

any diaboy at first rank doesn't mean that they don't give freedom to Yui at all, it's just less compared to others and their jealousy level is ↑

why did this post go from possessive analysis to character analysis, I'm sorry, i just loose the track so much while writing (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

[drmapzo]

Hello, everyone!

Pretty much everybody needs to relax every once in a while, and druids are no exception.

After a long day of work tending nature and its beautiful (and sometimes not so beautiful) creatures, the local caretakers like to come to this magical pub to have some drinks and unwind.

The place is full of vegetation all around and the drinks offered have a unique spin on them, having being made with exotic ingredients of the finest quality.

But a pub is a pub and drunken fights are also a staple of this place of this otherwise calm place.

The creature tokens for this map are an Ancient Guardian Demon, a Catfolk Rogue and an Exotic Mystical Beast. Emerald tier gets the Catfolk Rogue while Diamond tier gets all three. In addition, Sapphire tier gets extra creature token variants.

You can see a preview of all of this week’s Patreon content here.

Thank you very much for taking a look and be sure to check out my Patreon where you can pledge for gridless version, alternate map versions as well as the tokens pertaining to this map.

[dearest-painter]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a small little scenario of a newcomer reader who completely roasts Val and talks about how unoriginal and tacky his content is. In fact, I low-key want to tell him that he's practically vanilla just to poke fun at him.

(Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, just kinda curious) thanks

I can! And since this isn’t yandere imma make the newcomer sorta be a slight rip off of Husk because I love him so much!!! ALSO LOTS OF MENTIONS OF PORN, SEX, AND SEXUAL THINGS!

Vox: Val! Meet my newest…friend!

Valentino: So your the new bitch huh?

Y/N: *Stops drinking from their flask* Says the man whose eyesights suck. Let’s get one thing straight, there are multiple pimps and porn star directors in hell who do a much better job than you. Why do I know this? Because I’ve worked for them in the past out of boredom for some good booze. Your take on any porn trope are bland. The only reason people like your things are because of Angel Dust, he brings you the popularity. Without him, you’d be done for. You bring no creativity to the table at all. You bring nothing to the table in the Vs if I’m being honest, all you bring is some shitty porn movies, a shitty club, and one popular pornstar. Next time you gonna insult me at least make sure that your blind ass actually has some good qualities to beat me. *goes back to drinking their flask*

Vox: AHAHAHAHAH! Good one Y/N! Now! Let’s go get you settled in! (Favoritism at its finest)

[vaniri]

Dangerous Thing [Minthara Baenre x drow Tav]

Parties in Menzoberranzan can be exhausting. During one of these, Minthara decides to slip away and spend some quality time with her beloved woman.

----- Rating: E Category: F/F Word Count: 3 243 Warnings: sexual content, oral sex, drow women in love

----- As always, big THANK YOU to @ugh-my-back for helping me polish my work 🖤

-----

Minthara never liked parties.

It didn’t really matter which one of Menzoberranzan’s noble houses hosted them, or why they were thrown – it was rarely anything other than a display of host’s wealth and power, an excuse to flaunt their prosperity (sometimes only alleged) and, more importantly, remind the other houses of their position in the City. What really mattered about these parties was how they ended: who managed to raise their status and who got viciously murdered, who learned the darkest secrets and who vanished without a trace. Hardly any party in Menzoberranzan could go without at least one intricate intrigue and some blood spilled. It was a cruel and dangerous game the high society loved to play and despite Minthara being quite proficient in that (she was taught well and by one of the best), she hardly ever enjoyed getting involved in all that mess. It was all so damn exhausting.

Tonight’s evening was pretty peaceful so far though, but Minthara knew that she should never let her guard down. She had learned that the hard way. Polite smiles often hid malicious intentions. Every hand lost from her view, even for a short while, could potentially try to stab her in the back before the end of the night. The game was always on and to lose was to die. And she was a Baenre, daughter of the most ancient and influential house in Menzoberranzan. Life had already taught her that as a significant and illustrious figure she sure was, she should have always expected people to plot against her and target her in their scheming to get power and influence. And that she should always be prepared to fend off their attacks.

Despite her justified suspicion and wariness, she did not stray from getting involved in social activities in order to avoid getting people’s attention. She mingled with the guests, exchanged hollow-hearted pleasantries and forced smiles, joined discussions and shared her thoughts, carefully worded, on their subjects - as someone of her status was expected to do. But something else seemed to occupy her mind, as her eyes were clearly looking for something, or rather someone, searching the crowd for the only face she wanted to see tonight. The only reason Minthara attended all these parties: her beautiful lover, the most perfect woman in the entire Underdark (and probably also the World Above). She had to be there tonight, she would never miss the opportunity to learn the newest rumors and listen about the scandals involving the most notable members of Menzoberranzan’s society. And, most importantly, she would never miss a chance to see Minthara.

She finally saw her, standing among some young girls Minthara didn’t recognize, probably novice priestesses or some less important daughters of not very important mothers. Their eyes met for a brief moment, a hint of playful smile flickered across her face and Minthara already knew she had something wicked in mind. She watched her politely excuse herself and walk towards the ballroom exit, beckoning Minthara to come with her. Minthara followed her without a moment of hesitation, keen to have some respite from all that socializing and pretending, her eyes glued to the captivating figure moving gracefully before her.

Her lover looked stunning that evening. Her long wavy hair, white and lustrous like the finest spidersilk, was tied in a loose low bun, with several small braids adorning her head. Her well-fitted dress, quite revealing but still covering all the parts a decent noble lady should’ve had covered in public, clung to her perfect form, accentuating her beautiful shapes. Its deep red color corresponded wonderfully with her smooth gray skin and her intricate jewelry, made of the finest materials found in the Underdark. She looked like a literal goddess. And even moved like one, climbing the stairs leading to the upper floor of the mansion with such lightness and elegance she seemed to be floating above them.

Minthara was absolutely mesmerized by that sight. They haven’t seen each other for days, whether because of her family duties, or her lover was simply avoiding her on purpose to whet her appetite before the party – Minthara had no idea. But she missed her a lot and seeing her now, so beautiful and irresistible, made Minthara want her more and more with every passing second. She needed to touch her, taste her, feel her squirm under her body and hear her moan her name. She had to remind her who she belonged to.

She couldn’t contain herself any longer. When her lover reached the top of the stairs, she closed in on her with three long strides and pinned her to the nearest wall, her body on hers. She leaned in to steal a kiss, but her woman stopped her with her hand covering Minthara’s lips.

“Patience.” She whispered softly, dragging her finger along Minthara’s lower lip. Her voice was calm, and so was her breath, but her lustful gaze betrayed her desire.

It was very rare for Minthara to not get what she wanted. Usually it was very simple, all she had to do was pull the right strings and just wait. People loved to fawn on her and throw themselves at her feet. They were ready to do anything to please her, hoping to earn her attention and win her favor. But not her beloved. This one was bold enough to defy her, tease her, say no to her demands and make her beg for what she wanted. And that’s what made Minthara so crazy about her.

But she would never let anyone know how much this woman has bewitched her. And certainly she would never make it so obvious in front of her. She had an image to maintain. So despite the overcoming desire to devour her right here and now, Minthara reluctantly pulled away from her, giving her a sign to lead the way, wherever she wanted to take her.

Her lover took her hand and guided her down a dark narrow corridor, humming some cheerful melody under her nose, her excitement palpable. Minthara didn’t interrupt her, enjoying the familiar tune and waiting patiently to see where this whole jaunt would take them in the end. Finally, after what felt like ages, they stopped in front of one of the many doors and her beloved opened them quickly, revealing a relatively small, sparsely decorated but still fancy-looking room with a large bed in its center. She gave Minthara a quick glance, a playful smile tugging at her lips, and, without a warning, she shoved her inside.

Minthara didn’t have time to protest because her lover pushed her against the wall and closed her lips around hers, finally giving in to her desire. Minthara did not resist, she hungrily returned her kiss, aching to feel her whole. As her tongue explored her lover’s mouth, her hands quickly found their way under the fabric of her dress, finally free to roam her entire body.

“I love when you’re so eager you don’t know where to put your hands.” The woman teased between kisses, groping Minthara’s ass and pressing her pelvis hard against hers to feel even more of her. She moaned softly when Minthara’s hands reached her breasts, fingers rubbing her already hard nipples in a slow, circular motion.

“I missed your body so much. I want to touch you everywhere.”

“I missed yours too. I want to see it, in all its glory.”

With Minthara’s hands still occupied with her chest, she unfastened her dress herself and then gave her a gentle but suggestive push, prompting her to do the rest of the work on her own. Minthara begrudgingly took a step back and swiftly slipped her dress off her shoulders, letting it fall on the floor. Her smallclothes joined it right after. She was standing there proudly, completely naked, watching her lover circle her like a starving predator did its delicious prey and take in every inch of her exquisite form. Minthara knew her body was absolutely ravishing, slender but firm, covered in faint freckles and several dark scars, each a proof of her grit and endurance. But seeing what a mere sight of it did to her beloved, how it filled her with fascination, adoration and unadulterated carnal desire, feeling her lustful gaze burn on her skin – it boosted her self-confidence even further.

Without a word, the woman took Minthara’s hand and led her towards the bed. Still fully dressed, she ensconced herself by the headboard and motioned Minthara to join her there. Minthara obediently crawled to her and let her seat her between her legs, back against her chest.

“Let me show you how much I adore you.” Her lover whispered in her ear, peppering it with hot kisses, her arms wrapping around her waist. Minthara purred softly, enjoying the attention her lover's lips were giving to her ear and neck, and the coolness the fabric of her spidersilk dress provided to her heated skin.

Her woman knew all the right spots on Minthara’s body and lavished them evenly with attention and care. She started off safe, with her ears, neck, shoulders and belly, kissing and massaging wherever she could reach, making Minthara melt into her touch. Her palms moved down to her legs, thumbs rubbing her inner thighs, closer and closer to her groin, then left to caress her sides. Every brush of her fingers made Minthara shiver, every touch made her ache for more. Her beloved had her fully at her mercy, exposed and vulnerable, and she was happily using the power she was given. Normally it would have scared Minthara to be like that, to give herself to someone entirely - without fear of getting betrayed. It should have scared her. But not with this woman. She trusted her completely, with her body and soul. And she was certain she was putting herself in good and loving hands.

She let out a quivering sigh when her lover’s palms cupped her breasts, then a loud moan when her fingers focused on her sensitive nipples. She pinched and rubbed them interchangeably, her mouth nibbling her earlobe, and Minthara felt the throbbing heat between her legs grow more intense with every second. Her beloved could have made her come only by fondling her breasts (actually she had done that before, several times, that skilled woman), but that wouldn’t satisfy Minthara tonight. She wanted her hands on her most sensitive parts, she needed her to touch her properly. She rubbed her legs together, trying to give her already dripping pussy some much needed friction, but her lover kept her in place, biting her ear to remind Minthara that she was in charge now.

“Patience.” She reminded her.

Finally, after a long and delicious while of playing with Minthara’s tits, one of her lover’s hands found its way between her legs. Her slender finger slid between her slick folds, rubbing her already swollen clit and Minthara felt her orgasm build up rapidly in her abdomen, every stroke sending waves of bliss throughout her body. She let out a surprised moan when her beloved circled her entrance and slid a finger inside, dragging her juices out and smearing them all over her bud to add more slickness and make her sensations even better. She stroked her clit with short, quick motions, adding more pressure when she wanted to make Minthara wail and reducing the intensity of her ministrations when Minthara was enjoying herself too much. She knew well how to dose her pleasure and how to make her a squirming mess.

Finally, when she decided she was done teasing, her hand picked up the pace, and with the other hand still playing with her already overstimulated nipples, Minthara couldn’t hold back any longer. She came hard, crying out her lover’s name, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure rushing through her body like a thunderwave. Her cunt throbbed intensely, walls contracting rhythmically around two fingers her beloved slipped in her to finger her through her orgasm.

She held Minthara tight until she came down from her high, stroking her hair and murmuring sweet words of affection in her ear: how much she meant to her, how much she loved to worship her body and hear her cry her name like it’s the only word she knew. And all these terms of endearment that could have them both tortured and maybe even killed, if anyone caught them saying these to each other. My passion. Source of my joy. My one and only. My love.

Hearing all these things, uttered by the woman she adored so much, made Minthara’s heart flutter. She turned around and pressed her lips against her lover’s, eager to show her how much she reciprocated all these feelings. Their kiss was fierce and messy, and Minthara couldn’t resist playfully biting her lower lip as her hands dealt with the skirt of her dress, tossing it aside and revealing her beautiful toned thighs. She made her way down her lover’s body, kissing every exposed part of her  skin until her face buried between her legs, where she tugged her already damp underwear aside and spread her folds, giving herself full access to her dripping core. Minthara planned to tease her a little first, but the scent of her arousal was too enticing and made her want to devour her right here and now. So she pressed the tip of her tongue against her clit, then slid it into her and tasted her arousal, purring contently at the wanton moan her action elicited.

She lapped at her sweet spot, reveling in all these lovely sounds her woman was making. She was always a delight to please, so vocal and responsive, and so direct with her needs. She guided Minthara’s hand to her entrance, prompting her to slip a finger inside and Minthara happily complied, purring contently when her lover ran her fingers through her silky hair. She held her head, keeping her mouth where she wanted it most while Minthara thrust deep into her in a slow steady pace, adding another digit for more stimulation when one felt like nothing in her needy cunt.

Minthara focused her full attention on her clit, sucking and licking the overstimulated bud, feeling it throb against her tongue - an undeniable sign she was close to her release. Her fingers pounded into her dripping hole, picking up the pace as her lover rutted feverishly against her hand, begging her to fuck her harder. She came moments later, with Minthara's name on her lips, her pussy contracting fiercely around her fingers, covering her entire hand with her juices.

Minthara pulled her fingers out and licked them clean, savoring the taste of her lover’s essence, locking her eyes with hers. She looked exceptionally delectable, with her cheeks flushed and those full rosy lips parted. Some strands of her hair had fallen loose from her previously tidy bun, now framing her face and somehow making her even more beautiful. She reached to Minthara, hand still shaking after her intense orgasm, and held her cheek, whispering her name so tenderly and with so much fondness Minthara couldn’t contain emotions that surged through her. The familiar feeling of warmth and elation was swelling somewhere in her chest and she couldn’t even try to pretend she didn’t know what that sensation was anymore.

It was a very dangerous and unwise thing for a drow to develop feelings for another and give themselves to them, fully and genuinely. Especially for one from a house like Baenre. Minthara was usually very cautious and extremely picky when it came to trusting people and letting them closer. Not too close though, as life had already taught her that most of these people wanted to be in her favor for their own personal gain and would turn against her in an instant the moment planting a knife in her turned out more beneficial. She already had several scars to prove that statement. She had to learn how to see through people and read their motives, play them as she wanted, to always be one step ahead of them and their plotting. And never get attached to them. Of course she had made some mistakes, but after learning her lesson all her lovers and so-called friends became nothing more than a temporary entertainment, a moment of fun with no strings attached, and she was ready to get rid of them without batting an eye the moment she noticed their intentions were vile. That's how she managed to survive so long in the treacherous high society of Menzoberranzan.

But her relationship with this woman was different. She was different. Selfless and sincere, from the very beginning. She never asked for anything, other than affection and honesty, and offered the same in return. She’d proven her loyalty to Minthara, more times than she could even recall, and earned her full trust. It started off as an innocuous affair, based on their carnal desires and yearning for connection with someone, even for a short while. But it lasted for years now and Minthara already knew their involvement had long ago turned into something deeper. Meaningful. Dangerous.

Her common sense demanded Minthara to kill that woman the moment she noticed the change. She should have destroyed the object of these feelings and the bond they shared, before it corrupted her mind and ruined her completely. But one look in her lover’s warm eyes was enough to make Minthara realize that she was already beyond the point of saving. And it didn’t scare her, as she had already come to terms with her own feelings and accepted her weakness in full.

Love like this was a rare thing in the Underdark. It should have been cherished, not fought.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Hm?” Minthara snapped out of her musing. Her love was visibly amused, watching her with curiosity in her eyes.

“You were lost in your thoughts. What were you thinking about?”

“You, of course.” She gave her lover’s crotch a quick peck and put her underwear back in place.

“No need to think about me, I’m already here.”

Minthara crawled back to her and snuggled up against her chest as her beloved pulled her into a loving embrace. She found comfort in her smell, relaxing completely while listening to her heartbeat, strong and steady, enjoying her hand tenderly stroking her head.

“Stay with me here. I don’t want to go back to the party.” Minthara purred, content with her current position and reluctant to change it.

“They’ve probably noticed our disappearance already.”

“Good, they may be noticing it for a bit longer.”

Her lover chuckled lightly, then her expression suddenly sobered.

“Your mother-“

“Knows I came here for you and you alone.” Minthara cut her off. “She has more pressing matters to attend to today than tailing me and making sure I behave, trust me.”

“I do trust you, Alurlssrin.” That word always made Minthara’s chest swell with warmth, so many emotions rushing through her mind. An undeniable proof that her lover felt the same. “But please, don’t complain to her later that you missed the entire party because I kept you in bed all night and didn’t let you go. She didn’t believe you last time and she won’t believe you now.”

It was Minthara's turn to chuckle, until her lover pressed her lips against hers to finally silence her.

She would never dare complain about that.

[whorediaries-09]

drowned and dreamt

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s)- angst, substances, suggestive content. a/n- this is a really devasting chapter, and there's no interaction between sirius and reader in this one. but for the sake of his character in the story, i feel this is relevant.

little train. series masterlist.

sirius walked into a muggle toy store, looking for stuff that his godson-who he had never met, might like. what would a boy of 6 like, he wondered. in his mind, he was reminded of 20 year old sirius black when he'd had held the soft, warm bundle of joy within his arms for the first time, already making up plans in his mind to spoil him rotten.

he'd almost lost it when james had asked him to be his godfather. he'd been shaking from holding back tears of joy. he remembered harry's first birthday. he'd went all out, ordered a big chocolate cake from the finest bakery, bought about twenty pairs of outfits, and a toy broom. with the war tossing and turning into its darkest paths, he supposed it would cheer the confined little soul.

little did he know the moment he'd dreamt for so long, would be drowned with a span of a few months.

so, he stared at the colorful collection of toys neatly arranged on rows, wondering what he could buy. he didn't want to send in any toys which induced magic, he supposed petunia wouldn't like it. he couldn't imagine how she treated him, but by sending anything petunia would be prejudiced about, he didn't want to worsen it.

so, he picked up a toy car, which was shaped like a little beetle, a little lion stuff toy, a few coloring books, a set of crayons and water paints, and the best quality brushes. his pockets full of money, he wanted to spent all he had for him, to make his godson happy.

to see harry happy would be having the world in his hands.

the elderly woman at the counter smiled, wrapping up the things into a shiny paper and sliding it into a colorful bag with animated drawings of little animals. somehow, sirius felt his heart hurt. somewhere, in his mind he was reminded of his childhood.

was he trying to give harry the life he never had? was he trying to live his childhood through him?

*-

with soft steps, sirius found way to james potter's grave. the night had fallen, the dark sky reflecting the shine of the stars high and bright. somewhere, he imagined james watching sirius from up there, floating towards him and wiping off the hot tears staining his face.

he sat beside the tombstone.

'are you cold in there james? i s'ppose so. but i think you'll be quiet warm, prongs. weren't you such a ray of sunshine?' he pauses, as if waiting for a reply. he stares at the name engraved on the stone. somewhere, he felt a part of himself drown. but he let it drown, shy of the spark of life. he adored the feeling, which wrapped its hands around his neck. he breathes slowly,

'you were a ray of sunshine to me prongs, when i was drowned in the rain. you took me in, provided the warmth that my own mother couldn't. all of you provided me the warmth i needed. you, lily, remus, harry. speaking of which, i bought him a few presents for his sixth birthday, you remember don't you?' he pauses again, the lump in his throat tightening. he whispers slowly, letting the tears consume him into a little ball, cutting off the air,

'your life was so short, but you got so many blessings, prongs. we were so young, and there was so much we couldn't do. there was so much you couldn't do. so much, like raising harry. i know you'd be a great dad, just like papa.' the tears fall, and his heart bleeds. he finds the vile cruelty of life capturing him into an endless loop of imprisonment.

'i miss you, prongs.'

*-

the whiskey is neat, harsh and bitter as it flows down his throat. it burns, the taste unfamiliar on his tongue. the keys of the new apartment prick into his skin, so, he adjusts his pants, while sliding down another bill for a new glass. his heart was beating fast.

lily potter knew alcohol.

and sirius knew he wanted to be drunk. so that is why he was shrouded in a corner of the muggle pub he'd found down the street. it was a small pub, not too bright, perfect for sketchy things that went down the history of crimes. the pub had seen it all too- from drug dealing to murder.

the floor was sticky, and the air reeked of beer, sweat and thick british accents from the throats of old men with wobbly chins whose life's purpose was to stare at young girls to creep them out. within the loud music their obnoxious laughter and comments reached sirius' ears.

slowly as the alcohol reached into his system, he felt the warmth of the blood rush into his face. he felt his heart drown and mind dense with the fifth glass that went down his throat. along with the alcohol, went down his senses as he attached his lips to a girl and took her home.

in a haze, he stripped apart her clothes, feeling her body. he buried his nose into her neck, biting, kissing, licking and touching every bit of her bare skin. she got rid of his pants, pumping him into erection.

he'd not felt this touch, hot and alive for so long. he wondered if he would crumble under his touch. but as a teenager, he remembered sex being his coping mechanism. it was when he was high upon hormones he couldn't control.

but now that he pushed himself into her, the warmth of her body trying to defrost the coldness within him, he felt himself crumble. hot and slow, he thrusted, trying to warm the cold, poisonous blood that drowned his heart.

but his mind was suddenly running, when in a faint flashback, he was reminded of your smile. he felt the his heart drowning into a pool of guilt. yet, the pleasure of the sound of your laughter echoed, and he felt his sky fall, crumble and shatter till there was no more serenity left, till he succumbed into pure madness.

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original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Minor Magic Items, 8: Also known as not-quite-wondrous items, common magic items, utility and niche magical equipment, underpowered relics or depowered artifacts, these objects are essentially cantrips and weak magic spells in physical form. Useful for more than just combat, these items create light, entertain, clean, play music, flavor food, heat, cool, warn, inform and generally raise the quality of life for their bearers. They can act as unique world building items, magic shop filler objects, barter and trade goods as well as ingredients to create or upgrade stronger magic items or enchantments.

Negatron Cloak: A rich purple cloak with gold trim, woven from a strange anti-magic fabric that does its best to absorb weak arcane effects. The wielder adds 1d4 to the result of any saving throws he makes against level 1 spells and cantrips.

Second-Light Lantern: A curious lantern with numerous panels and covers that can be shifted as an action equivalent to attacking, to function as a bullseye or hooded lantern. Objects such as these are often carried by scholars and spies who often need the finest possible detail without revealing themselves to others. When filled with oil and lit, the lantern sheds a spectrum of illumination known as Second-Light, which is only visible to creatures with darkvision, causing them to see the full range of colors in things illuminated by it. Normally creatures with darkvision can’t discern color in darkness, only shades of gray. Alternatively, the panels can be shifted to shed a still more specialized Second-light, visible only to those who are touching the lantern’s handle.

Portraiture Gremlin: A small cold iron box trimmed in silver containing a tiny ethereal goblinoid looking fey sitting on a miniature chair surrounded by dabs of pigments. The box has a switch that when pressed strikes the gremlin on the head with a tiny hammer. Whenever the gremlin is struck like this it rapidly paints whatever it sees out of the small porthole at the front of the box. It takes an action equivalent to attacking for the bearer to aim the box and trigger the switch after which the gremlin takes 1 minute to finish the picture (The bearer does not need to continue pointing the box at the subject) and the result is a perfectly accurate painting, albeit miniature (About a 3 inch square). When found, the gremlin comes with enough pigments for 2d4+2 paintings. Each subsequent painting requires fine quality pigments worth at least 2 gold pieces each. The box can hold 10 paintings worth of pigments and it takes one minute to carefully funnel more paints to the gremlin.

Quenching Acid: A large, curved brass oil lamp detailed with fine glyph of restoration and power. The vessel contains a rare substance known as Quenching Acid, which can only be scavenged from the crumbling, remnants of the fledgling kingdom known once called Fallgrim. If applied to a lethal weapon of any variety or construction, regardless of how chipped, warped or rusted it is, by some miracle the Quenching Acid restores it and imbues it with power. The contents of the lamp can be slowly poured over one magical or mundane, melee or ranged weapon or up to 10 pieces of ammunition over a one-minute period. The weapon sizzles and smokes with an acrid stench as the caustic solution scours away all traces of rust, rot and ruin. If the weapon was damaged or broken, it is now considered perfectly made and is far more lethal than it was before. The quenched weapon now permanently scores a critical hit on a roll of 19 or 20.

Hearthstone. A rustic, red brick that feels pleasantly warm and smell like good stew and fresh bread. The bearer always knows the direction to a firepit, hearth, stove or fireplace where a fire has been lit at least in some way every day for the past 30 days.

Goblin Claw: A detached decrepit goblin hand that has three fingers extended. As an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell, the bearer can hold the claw and speak aloud one wish. In response, one finger of the goblin claw contracts and one goblin appears within 60 feet of the bearer. This goblin is completely loyal to the being who made the wish and will attempt to fulfill the wish to the best of its ability until the task is complete, the goblin drops to zero hit points or until 1 year passes, at which point the goblin will disappear leaving nothing behind. Once all fingers have contracted the Goblin Claw disintegrates and the item is destroyed. ---Note: If your game doesn’t have statistics for a goblin, use a Commoner or a Civilian instead.

Truly Portable Ram: A marvel of gnomish artifice, this battering ram functions just as well as a mundane portable ram but has been enchanted to only weigh half a pound. Furthermore, as an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell, the bearer can fold the ram in on itself several times until it becomes a 6-inch cube. Another action of the same type is required to unfold the ram for use.

Dryad’s Key: A lush, green leaf with a bug-bitten, key-like tooth at the bottom of its stem. While holding the leaf, the bearer can speak its command word and place it into or against a tree, turning it like a key and creating a magical link between the tree and another one at any distance, on the same plane of existence. The bearer must have seen or touched the destination tree at least once before and both plants must be at least as tall as the bearer. Until the end of the bearer's next turn any creature can step into the key-touched tree and exit from the destination plant by using five feet of movement. Once the leaf has been used in this way, it withers and becomes a nonmagical leaf.

Letter-Lift Paper: A pad of light tissue paper contains 4d6 sheets all enchanted with a subtle magic. When a sheet of paper is pressed to a written page, such as a book or letter, and left there for six seconds, it transfers a perfect copy of the text onto the thin paper. The copy would never pass for the original, but preserves details such as handwriting, which allows a forger to study the writing at length later on.

Antagonistic Alchemist’s Accoutrement: A heavy lead wand shot with veins of gold as if a natural philosopher had partially succeeded at transmuting the dull, worthless metal into its pure lustrous, treasured counterpart. The implement retains a portion of the transformation magic used upon it and can be used as a spellcasting focus with the added bonus of occasional repeating the transmutation effect on an unsuspecting victim. Whenever the wielder lands a critical hit with a spell attack roll that deals damage, small portions of the target’s body are transmuted into droplets of pure gold. The equivalent of one gold coin per point of hit point damage dealt by the critical hit (In total, to a maximum limit of the amount of hit points the target has remaining), tumbles out of the target’s body and falls to the ground in small nuggets to be collected after the fight. ---Note: DM’s can change the effect to function on the first time per day the wielder lands a critical hit if they feel their players will get distracted trying to abuse the effect to get rich rather than treating it as a fun, novel wand.

-Click Here to be directed to the Hotlinks To All Tables post, which provides (As you might have guessed) convenient links to all of the loot and resource tables this blog has.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

Negatron Cloak: A rich purple cloak with gold trim, woven from a strange anti-magic fabric that does its best to absorb weak arcane effects. The wielder adds 1d4 to the result of any saving throws he makes against level 1 spells and cantrips.

Second-Light Lantern: A curious lantern with numerous panels and covers that can be shifted as an action equivalent to attacking, to function as a bullseye or hooded lantern. Objects such as these are often carried by scholars and spies who often need the finest possible detail without revealing themselves to others. When filled with oil and lit, the lantern sheds a spectrum of illumination known as Second-Light, which is only visible to creatures with darkvision, causing them to see the full range of colors in things illuminated by it. Normally creatures with darkvision can’t discern color in darkness, only shades of gray. Alternatively, the panels can be shifted to shed a still more specialized Second-light, visible only to those who are touching the lantern’s handle.

Portraiture Gremlin: A small cold iron box trimmed in silver containing a tiny ethereal goblinoid looking fey sitting on a miniature chair surrounded by dabs of pigments. The box has a switch that when pressed strikes the gremlin on the head with a tiny hammer. Whenever the gremlin is struck like this it rapidly paints whatever it sees out of the small porthole at the front of the box. It takes an action equivalent to attacking for the bearer to aim the box and trigger the switch after which the gremlin takes 1 minute to finish the picture (The bearer does not need to continue pointing the box at the subject) and the result is a perfectly accurate painting, albeit miniature (About a 3 inch square). When found, the gremlin comes with enough pigments for 2d4+2 paintings. Each subsequent painting requires fine quality pigments worth at least 2 gold pieces each. The box can hold 10 paintings worth of pigments and it takes one minute to carefully funnel more paints to the gremlin.

Quenching Acid: A large, curved brass oil lamp detailed with fine glyph of restoration and power. The vessel contains a rare substance known as Quenching Acid, which can only be scavenged from the crumbling, remnants of the fledgling kingdom known once called Fallgrim. If applied to a lethal weapon of any variety or construction, regardless of how chipped, warped or rusted it is, by some miracle the Quenching Acid restores it and imbues it with power. The contents of the lamp can be slowly poured over one magical or mundane, melee or ranged weapon or up to 10 pieces of ammunition over a one-minute period. The weapon sizzles and smokes with an acrid stench as the caustic solution scours away all traces of rust, rot and ruin. If the weapon was damaged or broken, it is now considered perfectly made and is far more lethal than it was before. The quenched weapon now permanently scores a critical hit on a roll of 19 or 20.

Hearthstone. A rustic, red brick that feels pleasantly warm and smell like good stew and fresh bread. The bearer always knows the direction to a firepit, hearth, stove or fireplace where a fire has been lit at least in some way every day for the past 30 days.

Goblin Claw: A detached decrepit goblin hand that has three fingers extended. As an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell, the bearer can hold the claw and speak aloud one wish. In response, one finger of the goblin claw contracts and one goblin appears within 60 feet of the bearer. This goblin is completely loyal to the being who made the wish and will attempt to fulfill the wish to the best of its ability until the task is complete, the goblin drops to zero hit points or until 1 year passes, at which point the goblin will disappear leaving nothing behind. Once all fingers have contracted the Goblin Claw disintegrates and the item is destroyed. ---Note: If your game doesn’t have statistics for a goblin, use a Commoner or a Civilian instead.

Truly Portable Ram: A marvel of gnomish artifice, this battering ram functions just as well as a mundane portable ram but has been enchanted to only weigh half a pound. Furthermore, as an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell, the bearer can fold the ram in on itself several times until it becomes a 6-inch cube. Another action of the same type is required to unfold the ram for use.

Dryad’s Key: A lush, green leaf with a bug-bitten, key-like tooth at the bottom of its stem. While holding the leaf, the bearer can speak its command word and place it into or against a tree, turning it like a key and creating a magical link between the tree and another one at any distance, on the same plane of existence. The bearer must have seen or touched the destination tree at least once before and both plants must be at least as tall as the bearer. Until the end of the bearer's next turn any creature can step into the key-touched tree and exit from the destination plant by using five feet of movement. Once the leaf has been used in this way, it withers and becomes a nonmagical leaf.

Letter-Lift Paper: A pad of light tissue paper contains 4d6 sheets all enchanted with a subtle magic. When a sheet of paper is pressed to a written page, such as a book or letter, and left there for six seconds, it transfers a perfect copy of the text onto the thin paper. The copy would never pass for the original, but preserves details such as handwriting, which allows a forger to study the writing at length later on.

Antagonistic Alchemist’s Accoutrement: A heavy lead wand shot with veins of gold as if a natural philosopher had partially succeeded at transmuting the dull, worthless metal into its pure lustrous, treasured counterpart. The implement retains a portion of the transformation magic used upon it and can be used as a spellcasting focus with the added bonus of occasional repeating the transmutation effect on an unsuspecting victim. Whenever the wielder lands a critical hit with a spell attack roll that deals damage, small portions of the target’s body are transmuted into droplets of pure gold. The equivalent of one gold coin per point of hit point damage dealt by the critical hit (In total, to a maximum limit of the amount of hit points the target has remaining), tumbles out of the target’s body and falls to the ground in small nuggets to be collected after the fight. ---Note: DM’s can change the effect to function on the first time per day the wielder lands a critical hit if they feel their players will get distracted trying to abuse the effect to get rich rather than treating it as a fun, novel wand.

Transmuter’s Ring: A lead band, the work of a talented-but-lazy alchemist. In attempting to create a philosopher's stone, she got this far and called it a day. Once per day, the bearer can activate the ring as an action equivalent to an attack of opportunity, to turn himself into solid gold for one hour. From the bearer’s perspective, no time will pass and the effect cannot be ended early short of using dispelling or curse breaking magic on the statue. As the statue, the bearer is considered a magical object and indestructible by non-magical means but spells, magical effects and magic weapons treat the statue as pure gold, a weak metal. If the creature does become damaged while turned into a statue, he suffers from similar deformities when he reverts to his original state.

Zombie Drops: A squat, rectangular tin box containing 2d6+2 hard green pills the shape of raisins or (More accurately) shriveled nuggets of dead flesh. They emit a faint sulfurous stench but the outer surface tastes of nothing. If swallowed, the creature’s skin turns grey, rots and peels and their eyes sink and darken over the course of one minute. Afterwards they physically appear as a zombie for 3d4 hours and whenever they are targeted by a magical effect of any kind they are considered a living creature or an undead, whichever is most beneficial at the time. Unintelligent undead will not attack them and the consumer gains advantage on any check made to pass themselves off as an undead. Intelligent undead are not immediately aware that the consumer is actually alive. While under the effects of the drops, a creature’s speed is reduced by half and whenever they are injured by radiant damage, they suffer additional radiant damage equivalent to a shortsword (1d6)

Mending Stones: A leather tool pouch containing a collection of (3d4+1) smooth, round stones emblazoned with the sigil of Moradin glowing softly with the inner light of a forge. The bearer can activate one of the stones by touching it to a broken object and speaking the word “Mend” in Dwarvish. The stone then flares as bright as a hot forge and will repair any breaks or tears in a single object smaller than a five foot cube, such as a cracked anvil, broken door, rent armor or torn cloak. As long as the breaks or tears are no longer than five feet in any dimension, it is mended, leaving no trace of the former damage. If the area is larger, such as a large crumbling wall of crumbling masonry the stone only repairs a single five-foot cubed area. The stones can physically repair a magic item or construct, but the can’t restore magic to such an object. The stones can be used to repair animated constructs which restores the equivalent of three daggers worth of hit points (3d4). Each Mending Stone can only be used once, after activation the warmth and light within it permanently fades away.

Paladin's Placebo: A sealed glass vial containing a thick Randomly Colored oil-like potion. A single drop taken orally of this medicine will satisfy any craving for any drug or substance the user is addicted to and perfectly suppress any withdrawal symptoms from said narcotics. If consumed, the elixir also helps to clear the drinker’s body of the drug’s lingering effects and one dose counts as a full 24 hour period of detoxing for the purposes of overcoming an addiction. Paladin's Placebo enforces this sobriety without fail and for 24 hours after consuming a dose the drinker cannot become intoxicated by any means and feels no physical or mental effects from consuming drugs or alcohol (See note). When first found the vial contains 5d20+5 doses worth of the potion. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that Paladin's Placebo was invented by a former herbalist drug dealer that was coached by a paladin to quit their habit and change their life around. Ironically, the supply of the drug is tightly controlled by the Paladin order. ---Note: The wielder is still suffers from poison damage and can gain the poisoned condition. The wielder can still die as a result of consuming too much of a drug or alcohol and may in fact be more prone to it as they are unable to properly judge how much they have already taken.

SkullCap: A strange object that seems to be half hat and half funnel. The shape of the lower rim clearly shows where the hat may rest over the ears, but the top spreads open into a copper funnel. If this cap is placed on the head of a dead humanoid and a keg of wine or ale is poured down the funnel, the spirit of the deceased will return and answer one question (The spirit will answer truthfully though unclearly, as if inebriated). The corpse must still have a skull and mouth and can’t be undead. There is a 1 in 20 chance upon each use that the cap will split asunder and so be destroyed.

Chest of Preserving: A sturdy travel chest with multiple handholds designed to be easily carried or strapped into a wagon. The chest is 2½ feet long, 1½ feet wide, and 1 foot tall with a half-barrel lid. Food and other perishable items do not age or decay while inside the Chest of Preserving. The chest has a strong but nonmagical lock, which can be picked with thieves' tools. Smashing the lock or any other part of the chest renders it nonmagical.

The Devil’s Dice: A pair of six sided dice made from the knucklebones of sinners and pipped with the ichor of fiends. Once per day when the bearer makes an attack roll, ability check or saving throw, he can utter a request for profane support at a cost of a lien on his being and adds 2d6 to the roll. Once this is done an infernal mark appears somewhere noticeable on the bearer’s body (Typically the hands and face) symbolizing the deal with the devil. The lien is equal to the result of the 2d6 in days and the mark disappears at the end of the bargain. If the bearer is already marked, the deal is extended by that many days. While the wilder is marked, he suffers disadvantage on death saving throws and if he dies, his body and equipment is consumed in black flame leaving a greasy char and his soul becomes owned by the devil and cannot be raised from the dead or resurrected by any means. While marked, the bearer has disadvantage on attack rolls against fiends and on saving throws against their spells and special abilities.

Daimonori: An occult pendant that is hot to the touch, a heat that seeps into your core and fills you with a new confidence. You're unsure if this power is entirely your own, but its intoxicating lure is seemingly beyond your power to resist. Whenever the bearer casts a spell that does damage, he increases the result of one of the spell’s damage rolls by 1.

Potion of Animal Friendship: A sealed glass vial containing a sludgy solution that when shaken, reveals various chunks and bits from different animals. Sniffing at the contents, you are alarmed to find that its odor is even less appetizing than the off-putting presentation. If consumed, the drinker gains advantage on any ability checks to interact socially with beasts and they understand the drinker’s words empathically, though they cannot speak back. These effects last for one hour and there are 2d4+2 doses of the potion when found

Ring of Minor Telekinesis: A brass ring set with a clear piece of quartz crudely chipped into the shape of a human hand. When not worn and someone attempts to pick it up, the band seems to leap into the creature’s hand at the last moment and if flinging itself into their grasp. The bearer can use an action equivalent to attacking to call on the ring’s power to create an invisible hand of telekinetic force that can manipulate objects, open an unlocked door or container, stow or retrieve an item from an open container, or pour the contents out of a vial. The hand cannot be created or move farther than 30 feet from the bearer and it cannot attack, activate magical items or carry more than 10 pounds. The hand lasts for 1 minute, until dismissed by the bearer or if it is ever more than 30 feet away from the bearer.

Wand of Binding: A heavy wand of black iron. Observer’s eyes are immediately drawn to the end of the instrument, which has been meticulously fashioned into the shape of a manacle. On the wielder’s turn if he has not moved yet, he can activate the wand as part of casting a spell, which causes his speed to become 0 until the end of his turn. When the wand is activated as part of casting a spell that reduces the target’s movement speed or imposes the grapple, restrained or paralyzed condition, all creatures targeted by the spell subtract 1d4 from the spell’s first saving throw.

Liandry's Torment: A mask seemingly made of porcelain but does not shatter when impacted, its origins unknown. The covering is extremely cold to the touch, and as it’s pulled over the bearer’s face, the pupils of his eyes slowly expand until nothing but blackness remains. The object empowers the bearer’s targeted magic and whenever the bearer hits a creature with a spell attack, the victim burns briefly with a dark flame, suffering a dagger’s worth of necrotic damage (1d4) in addition to the spell’s effects. If the spell target’s multiple creatures, each creature hit with a spell attack suffers this damage and if the bearer lands multiple spell attacks upon a single target, the necrotic damage is compounded.

Righteous Glory: A beautiful winged helm of burnished gold with a light and open design, allowing it to be used by martial mages. Whenever the bearer casts a spell of 1st-level or higher, he regains hit points equal to the level of the spell slot expended. The bearer must be proficient in light armor in order to attune to the helm and benefit from its power. The bearer must wear the helm for at least one hour in order to attune to it.

Tear of the Goddess: A deep blue sapphire pendant, encased within blue glass, shaped like a teardrop. The object is overflowing with emotional energy and should the bearer hold it against his bear skin and concentrate on it he alternates wildly between wanting to shed tears of joy and grief, as if the jewel is the pinnacle of both. The Tear contains 1 charge that replenishes each day at dawn. Whenever the bearer scores a natural 1 or 20 on a spell attack roll, he may choose to activate the pendant, expending the charge and regaining the spell slot used to cast the spell. Furthermore whenever a creature is forced to make a saving throw against one of the bearer’s spells and scores a natural 1 or 20, he may choose to activate the pendant, expending the charge and regaining the spell slot used to cast the spell.

Eldritch Elixir: A leaded glass vial filled the ichor of an elder being whose eldritch form is maddening to behold. When sipped, aberrant corruption floods the drinker's body, spawning an unnatural mutation. The drinker feels a momentary flare of agonizing pain somewhere on his person as a ten-foot-long tentacle bursts forth from the site, bypassing armor and clothing. The sinuous tentacle is heavily muscled like a long dry tongue covered in irregular blemishes, unnatural mottled coloring, small patches of hair and misshapen areas of perfectly smooth or heavily calloused skin. The abnormal limb is prehensile and can stretch out to ten feet allowing the drinker to grab and hold (But not wield) objects, initiate grapples, shoves or other combat maneuvers and deliver touch attacks or spells that have a range of touch, all with the increased reach. The limb can even be swung with force as an unarmed attack the drinker is considered proficient with that deals as much damage as a club with a reach of ten feet. The tentacle last for one hour before retracting back into the drinker's body. When found the vial contains 1d3+1 sips of the ichor.

Guardwell’s Alarming Caltrops: A thick, reinforced leather bag of otherwise unassuming caltrops that would be indistinguishable from their more common counterparts were it not for the tiny flecks of sapphire dust embedded in the metal and a whisper-soft hum identify their nature. These twisted spiked were developed to not only slow intruders but to announce their presence as well. Whenever a creature steps on them, the caltrops let out a loud bang that can be heard up to 100 feet away. The sound of the noise is diminished by solid barriers such as walls or doors. A creature within ten feet of the caltrops can utter the command word found on their leather bag to cause them to all fling themselves back into the sack so they can be used elsewhere. Retrieving the caltrops this way takes an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell.

Hush Money: A small coin pouch containing 2d4+2 gold coins that appear to be ordinary bit of currency on the surface, but feature a pair of lips with a finger held up to them as if shushing the viewer. As an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell, the bearer can take out a coin and toss or flip it upwards and catch it to mute the area. For the next minute, no sound can be created within or pass through a 20-foot-radius sphere centered on where the bearer flipped the coin. Any creature or object entirely inside the sphere is immune to thunder damage, and creatures are deafened while entirely inside it. Casting a spell that includes a verbal component is impossible there. Once used, the coin’s golden sheen fades to a dull silver color and it cannot be used again.

Belt of the Monkey: A metal belt made of silver monkeys locked arm in arm with tiny pieces of jade in the primate’s eyes. The bearer feels the tickling urge to treat the world as a playground by swinging on objects, climbing trees, and scaling buildings. As an action equivalent to drawing a weapon, the bearer can command the belt to animate, transforming it into a prehensile tail under the bearer's control. While it cannot be used to wield weapons or shields, the tail can retrieve small, stowed objects carried on his person then hold and manipulate them about as well as the bearer's normal limbs (Though any activity requiring fingers is beyond the tail’s capabilities). The bearer can command the tail to return to its belt form as an action equivalent to drawing a weapon.

Gauntlets of Titangrip: A pair of hefty mitts made of a secretive dwarven iron alloy and are carved with runes on the backhand and palms. The knuckles are embellished with stout talons. The gauntlets greatly enhance the bearer’s grip, allowing him to wrestle with creatures twice his size and win. When worn, the bearer counts as one size larger than he is for the purposes of grappling, including initiating, maintaining or resisting a grapple check. Whenever the bearer makes a grapple check, he can roll 1d4 and add the number rolled to the grapple check.

Rod of the Grave Titan: A leaden rod wrapped in the leathery skin of an undead giant. At each end of the implement is an inverted pyramid with skull motifs carved into it. Twice per day as an action equivalent to attacking, the wielder can choose an undead creature within 60 feet and cause them to grow to titanic proportions. The undead and everything it is wearing and carrying doubles in all dimensions, and its weight is multiplied by eight. This growth increases its size by one category (From medium to large for example) and while enlarged it has advantage on skill checks and saving throws that rely on strength. The undead’s weapons also grow to match its new size and while enlarged, the creature’s melee attacks deal a dagger’s worth of additional damage (1d4). These effects last for one minute before the undead and its equipment shrink back to normal size. The bearer can end this effect early at any time and the effect also ends if the bearer is no longer holding the rod.

Honeyed Mourning Cloth: A thin black scarf made of silk, embroidered in gold thread with a hexagon pattern that lines one edge. It smells strongly of flowers and fresh honey, and leaves a sweet residue when handled. When draped over an object, the Honeyed Mourning Cloth renders it completely silent. The silenced object must be completely covered to be affected, but the cloth can muffle everything from a blaring warhorn to a small animal’s heartbeat. The scarf is 3 feet long and 1 foot wide.

Empty Dance Card: An antique paper dance card in excellent condition, printed with twelve dances and spaces for a lady to record the men she has promised each one to. Linework flowers and the silhouettes of a dancing couple decorate the margins. A short length of ribbon is tied through a hole at one corner, then knotted at the end to form a bracelet loop. Looking through the hole of the dance card reveals thin silver chains connecting people who have made physical contact with each other in the past fortnight. The mess of chains this creates in populated areas can make distinguishing individual links difficult, but possible if two people are standing close together.

Figurine of Wondrous Power (Polar Bear): A carved bone statuette of an artic bear small enough to fit in a pocket. When the item is available to be activated, the figuring is cloaked in a detailed illusion causing it to look and feel stunningly realistic. During this time the miniature bear ripples with muscle under its soft white fur. Its black nose is like a small lump of pure coal, the eyes obsidian beads. One paw after another (Each the size of a serving dish in its active form) lift lazily and thumps unto the illusionary ice it stands on. When the white bear stands and opens its dark mouth, you feel the terrifying presence of a pure savage wearing the coat of an angel. As an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell, the bearer can speak the command word and throw the figurine to a point on the ground within 30 feet and the object grows into a full-sized polar bear if there is room for it to do so. The beast is friendly to the bearer and his companions. It understands the bearer`s languages and obeys his spoken commands. Should the bearer issue no commands, the creature defends itself but takes no other actions. The bear reverts back to its statuette form after ten minutes and changes back early if it drops to 0 hit points or if the bearer uses an action equivalent to attacking to speak the command word while touching it. Once the figurine has been activated in this way, it cannot be used again until a number have days have passed equal to the amount of hit points the polar bear was missing from its hit point total plus 1. ---Note: If the bear was missing 10 hit points it can’t be used again until 11 days had passed. If the polar bear was reduced to 0 hit points, it cannot be used again until a number of days equal to its full hit point total plus one.

Deathoscope: A collapsible brass spyglass with no lenses. Looking at a corpse through this implement will show a color indicating how long the creature has been dead. White = Not dead. Purple = Less than one hour. Blue = 1-24 hours dead. Green = 1-365 days dead. Yellow = 1-10 years dead. Orange = 10-100 years dead. Red = More than 100 years.

Phamea's Pocket Steed: A small brass whistle, shaped like the head of a horse and stained with age. When the whistle is blown an extremely high-pitched note is emitted, summoning a magical steed that serves just like a trained warhorse. It will stay until the whistle is blown again which unsummons it. However, if the horse is slain, its body disappears, and the whistle will never emit a sound again.

Dragon’s Tear: An enormous green emerald gemstone that hangs from a silver chain. Knowledgeable PC's are aware that legends says the emerald was formed from the tears of the Mother of Dragons as she mourned the death of the Great Serpent. While worn, whenever the bearer makes a saving throw against poison or being poisoned, he can roll 1d4 and add the number rolled to the saving throw. Furthermore, whenever the bearer suffers poison damage, he can roll 1d4 and reduce the total poison damage taken by the number rolled to a minimum of zero. The pendant provides neither of these protections if the poison originates from a dragon or draconic creature.

Crosswind Medallion: A weathered medallion bearing a carving of an arc of leaves blowing in a strong wind. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize it as the iconic adornment of Silent Joff, a long-dead archer who never spoke and never missed. Wearing this item against the skin creates a strong breeze that constantly surrounds the bearer, redirecting enemy arrows away. Whenever the bearer is hit by a ranged weapon such as an arrow, bolt or bullet, he can roll 1d8 and reduce the total damage taken by the number rolled to a minimum of 0.

Everfull Begging Bowl: A Large worn wooden bowl whose outside is humbly decorated with motifs of the God of Sacrifice, the archangel of charity and the patron saints of beggars. Once per day at noon, if the bearer has no silver or gold on his person he can choose to gain a level of exhaustion as if going a night without sleep and cause the bowl to fill with 1d100 copper pieces.

Slate of Memory: A cracked writing slate that attracts the eye and projects an unpleasant aura. Anything written or drawn upon the slate will be remembered perfectly by the author as long as the marks remain upon the slate. The memory is purged completely and utterly the moment its marks are removed from the slate.

Cantrips and You; A Beginner's Guide: A thick, leather-bound book emblazoned with arcane symbols. The work is a primer on simple magical theory and contains instructions of the basic mechanics of spellcasting. A creature who has read the volume for at least an hour a day for the past week obtains a rudimentary understanding of the esoteric arts and gains the ability to cast one wizard cantrip of their choice that does not deal damage. The nature of spellcasting is demanding and precise and should the creature not keep up with studying the book for an hour per day they fall out of practice and must spend another week pouring over the tome’s pages. A creature who has gained a cantrip from reading the book can switch it to a different cantrip that doesn’t deal damage after reading the book for one hour. If the reader has spent 365 cumulative hours reading the book over the course of one year, he becomes proficient with one wizard cantrip of his choice that does not deal damage and no longer needs to consult the book each day to cast it.

Broadsheet’s Booklet: A wooden clipboard-like pad containing a hundred blank sheets of cheap pulp paper. Anything written on the first page is duplicated through the entire stack of 100. Once per day, when all the pages have been removed, it refills itself. 24 hours after being removed from the pad, the papers disintegrates.

Death Seeking Lantern: A bullseye lantern made from polished brass and bears the image of the sun engraved over the lens. It burns with a pure white light when lit, which reacts to undead creatures, causing them to give off a faint orange glow when exposed to it. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that traveling undead hunters will make use of these lanterns when meeting strangers in unfamiliar territory. If an undead creature is disguising themselves with magical or mundane means, any creatures observing the undead within the lantern’s bright light gains advantage on checks made to pierce the disguise and recognize them as an undead creature. While the lantern is filled with oil and lit, the bearer can focus the bullseye shutter into a fine point and utter a command word, causing the oil to burn with holy fire, casting tight beam of searing light forward. The wielder can target on creature he can see within 60 feet and activate the lantern as an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell. The lantern is perfectly accurate at close range and if the target is undead and is within 5-30 feet, it suffers radiant damage equivalent to a halberd plus the wielder’s character level (1d10+level) and half that damage if the target is 35-60 feet from the wielder. Targets who are not undead, suffer no damage. Once activated in this way the lantern becomes empty and the light goes out. It takes two hands and one full round to refill the lantern with another pint of oil.

Dread Pirate’s Hat: A black felt bicorne hat with gold trim along its edges and it prominently features white skull-and-crossbones symbol across its front. The hat subtly alters the bearer’s appearance to make them seem more fearsome. They appear taller, with sharper features and have a number of scars crisscrossing their face. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that not every pirate who sails the seas is as bloodthirsty as the legends claim. Some find that the threat of violence rather than violence itself is a very good motivator. Whenever the bearer makes an intimidate check he can roll 1d4 and add the result to the total skill check. Furthermore, the bearer can cause his voice to boom up to three times as loud as normal allowing him to threaten passing ships from farther away.

Word Bomb: A one-inch long clear crystal cone that is small enough to fit in the palm of one's hand. To activate a Word Bomb simply hold the cone up to your mouth, squeeze it and speak a trigger word. Activating a Word Bomb causes its color to shift from clear to a smoky grey. A Word Bomb stays in its activated state until the trigger word is spoken again within a 20-foot radius of it. Once the trigger word is spoken again the Word Bomb explodes dealing five shortswords of thunder damage (5d6) to all creatures and objects within a 20-foot radius of it. Any creature within the blast that suffers more than 15 damage (After accounting for damage resistances or immunities) also becomes deafened for one minute. This consumes the Word Bomb entirely. A Word Bomb cannot be activated or triggered in an area under the effect of a magical silence spell.

The Yeetering: A simple silver ring precisely etched with the image of a catapult on it. The ring is bound by fey trickery and its wielder is doomed to cause unintended mischief when he least expects it but almost always at the most inopportune times. Whenever the wielder touches a new object (See Note) that is no more than three feet across on one side and weights no more than 50 pounds, the DM rolls 1D100. If the result is a 100, the item launches itself at inhuman speed in a random direction in an apparent effort to get as far away from the wielder as possible. The item only stops moving when it hits something at which time it falls to the ground unharmed, dealing no injuries and suffering no damage. The ring is considered cursed and cannot be removed short or lopping off the finger its on or by the use of curse breaking magics. ---A “new object” should be something the wielder has never physically interacted with before, but as the ring is fey cursed, it would not be surprising for it to launch objects whenever its funny to do so.

The Skull of Scouting: An obsidian skull whose lower jaw yawns open. A candle with a blue flame that provides no light sits in the open mouth. This skull acts as a hooded lantern to the attuned wielder, providing bright bluish light for 30 feet and dim light for an additional 30ft. Creatures not attuned to the object are not able to perceive this light whatsoever. To attune to the Skull, the bearer must spend one hour alone with it staring into the candle’s flame in a dark area.

Lute of Draconic Presence: A wooden lute inlaid with carvings of red and blue dragons in flight. The strings are made from the intestines of an adult dragon and have a metallic sheen that sparkle in the light. Plucking a single string to produce a pure, low resonating note that can be felt in one's bones. By strumming the instrument, the player can produce a deep reverberating note that causes every non-dragon to become shaken as though a primal evolutionary fear of dragons drove a spike of fear into the core of their being. As an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell, a wielder proficient with lutes can play the instrument with a perform skill check causing all non-draconic creatures within 50 feet (Excluding the wielder but including his allies) to make a wisdom saving throw. Any creature whose saving throw is lower than the wielder's perform check, becomes frightened of the wielder until the end of the wielder's next turn. A creature who succeeds in the saving throw gains advantage on all saving throws made to resist the fear effect for the next minute. This mind-affecting fear effect and creature must be able to hear the lute to be affected by it.

Eldritch Obelisk: A foot-long twisted onyx pyramidion carved with countless staring eyes. Each creature that stares directly at the warped artifact for more than a few moments suffers an intense migraine as fragmented visions of the future assail them. The omen is only ever of the viewer’s own life and always sooner than later. The viewer must roll 1d20 and record the result. At any point in the future, that creature may change the result of any attack roll, saving throw or skill check of a creature they can see (Including themselves) to that result. Once they do so they lose this ability, and they cannot receive a new vision from the obelisk for a year and a day.

Oil of the Martyr: A sealed black iron flask filled with oil made from the rendered fat of burned martyrs and mixed with sacred herbs grown on holy ground. If a person's head is anointed with the aromatic substance from the vessel, death will spare the creature. The next time the anointed creature would drop to 0 hit points as a result of taking damage, he instead drops to 1 hit point, and the effect ends. If the spell is still in effect when the creature is subjected to an effect that would kill it instantaneously without dealing damage, that hostile effect is instead negated against the target, and the oil wears off. When found the flask contains 1d4+2 uses of the oil.

Palegray Blood: A small vial, containing a milky, dreg-filled, grey liquid known as “Palegray blood”, said to have been taken from a race of gelatinous creatures from beyond the stars. When a creature ingests or injects this liquid, their body becomes gelatinous for a short period of time - roughly 1 hour per dosage of Palegray blood. While gelatinous, a creature has advantage on checks made to escape grapples, may climb vertical surfaces and surfaces parallel to the ground, and may squeeze through gaps as small as one inch wide. However, clothes and equipment being worn are not affected by the Palegray blood, and may need to be left behind in order to enter spaces that are too small for them to pass through.

Palegray Blood: A small vial, containing a milky, dreg-filled, grey liquid known as “Palegray blood”, said to have been taken from a race of gelatinous creatures from beyond the stars. When a creature ingests or injects this liquid, their body becomes gelatinous for one hour which confers many advantages at the cost of their well-being, as they suffer two daggers wroth of poison damage (2d4). While gelatinous, a creature has advantage on checks made to escape grapples or restraints and can climb vertical surfaces and surfaces parallel to the ground and may squeeze through gaps as small as one inch wide. However, clothes and equipment being worn are not affected by the Palegray blood, and may need to be left behind in order to enter spaces that are too small for them to pass through.

Transmogrification Tonic: A ruby vial filled with a mixture of organs and viscera from several types of eldritch aberrations whose mutable forms were in constant flux while they lived. When consumed, the drinker gains control over total control over his physical form and can mold his own flesh as if it was wet clay. The process is painful for a few moments before the drinker is able to disassociate from his nervous system and then it’s just unsettlingly. For the next hour the drinker can change his appearance at will and can decide what he looks like, including his height, weight, sex, facial features, sound of his own voice, hair length, coloration, and distinguishing characteristics, if any. He can make himself appear as a member of another race, though none of his statistics change. He can appear taller or shorter but not enough that he moves into a different size category. His general shape stays the same and retains the same number and arrangement of limbs. For one hour after consuming the tonic, the drinker is considered an aberration in addition to his creature type and as an action equivalent to attacking the he can change his appearance in this way again. These are true physical changes that hold up to a touch or medical inspection and after the hour is up the traces of eldritch power fades, rendering magic detecting spells useless to discerning that the drinker was supernaturally altered. At the end of the hour the tonic’s transmutative effects fade but any final changes remain, leaving the drinker’s appearance permanently altered to whatever his last form was. The drinker is instinctively perfectly aware of his own “natural” form and while under the effect of the tonic can change back to his original shape without difficulty.

Primordial Calabash: A bottle shaped gourd with smooth, light green skin and white flesh. The lush fruit is ripe and looks recently plucked despite not having been on a vine for months at least. It thrums with primal power and feels warm and wonderful, like bright sunlight on your skin after being trapped inside all winter. The sealed gourd was grown in a sacred druid grove, its roots reaching deep into ley lines of power soaking up supernatural energy like water. The calabash is filled with a raw juice that is infused with this power and sipping of the nectar will allow a creature to briefly gain a measure of the primal magic as it disperses through the body and may solidify that power as part of his being. Success will grant a preternatural benefit but failure will degrade the drinker’s mind and body. A creature can sip from the gourd as an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell and choose one of his ability scores (Such as Strength or Wisdom) and roll 1d10. On a result of 3-10, the drinker increases that ability score by +1 (To a maximum of the limit for PC ability scores) but on a 1 or 2, that ability score is decreased by -1. This change is a permanent effect and the calabash’s contents cannot affect the same ability score more than once. When found the Calabash contains 1d3+1 sips of its primordial essence.

Potions of Arms: A sealed glass vial in the shape of a clenched fist, filled with a clear liquid that changes to match the skin tone of whoever is holding it. When held, the bearer’s arms and sides tingle warmly, feeling strong and tough. If sipped, a primordial deluge of raw magic coursing through the drinker’s body forcing an evolutionary surge. The drinker experiences a strange tingling sensation under his shoulders and a secondary pair of arms burst out of his sides, bypassing armor and clothing. The extra arms lack the refined muscle memory of the drinker’s normal limbs and are considered non-dominate or off-hands which are capable of holding objects (But not wielding them) and performing basic tasks but nothing that requires finesse or skill. The additional limbs are as well muscled their counterparts, allowing the caster to excel at tasks that simply require overwhelming strength or sheer brute force. The caster is able to give himself a couple of helping hands and gains advantage on all strength checks and any rolls made to grapple, climb or wrestle. The extra arms last for 8 hours before retracting back into the caster’s body. When found the vial contains 1d3+1 sips of the potion.

The Wand of Fireworks: A wand consisting of a thin shaft of wood that holds a glass sphere at its tip. The sphere contains a dazzling display of sparks and flashes that crackle when held. The wand has 7 charges. While holding it, the bearer can use an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell to expend 1 of its charges and create a harmless burst of multicolored light at a point he can see up to 60 feet away. The burst of light is accompanied by a crackling noise that can be heard up to 300 feet away. The light is as bright as a torch flame but lasts only a few seconds. The wand regains 1d6 + 1 expended charges daily at dawn. If the bearer expends the wand's last charge, roll a d20. On a 1, the wand erupts in a harmless pyrotechnic display and is destroyed.

The Box of Princely Comeliness: A comprehensive, magical make-up box filled with make-ups and powders, blushes and rouges, small bottles of scented oils and perfumes. When used correctly The box makes the ugly comely, the tongue tied more dashing, and the social butterfly into an alluring magnet of attention. It can be used as a disguise kit and when used in this way, the user to adds 1d4 to the result of any skill checks made to disguise themselves with it as well as any Deception or Perform checks made to pass themselves off as the person of character they have disguised themselves as. To benefit from this, the bearer must spend ten minutes applying the makeup and the benefits last for 2d4 hours. The box replenishes its stock of powders, oils, lotions, and accessories every day at dawn.

Doom Siren: A tiny clockwork box lets out an ominous dirge audible up to 100 feet when an intelligent creature dies within 100 feet of it.

Devil Salts: A sealed leaded vial filled with course red salts. Distilled from the molten sweat of demons, a whiff of these crystals fills a creature with fiendish resilience at the cost of a few seconds of sanity. It is best saved from emergencies... As an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell, he bearer can open the vial and hold it to the face of an unconscious or dying creature. The downed creature regains a dagger’s worth of hit points per character level (1d4 X their level) and becomes violently conscious as they screaming and flail in terror for a few moments. The creature immediately jumps to their feet and takes the dodge action. The revived creature is considered frightened and cannot take actions or movement until the end of his next turn other than to stand up, dodge defensively and scream as loudly as possible. When first found the vial contains 6d6 uses of the Devil Salts.

Mages Manacles: A pair of bulky brass manacles held together by a sturdy brass bar inscribed with abjuration runes. The bindings prevent the creature from casting spells that require hand movements or somatic components. A creature who is bound by both manacles cannot regain spell slots by any means, including through rest, class or racial abilities or by use of potions or wondrous items.

Compass of the Homesick: A compass with a small compartment under the dial which can be filled with earth, sand, dirt or small pebbles. The compass dial features two needles. The small needle always points towards the magnetic north. However, the large needle always points towards the location the material in the compartment was taken from, allowing the bearer to always find their way to their home ground. If the compartment is empty, filled with any other type of material, or material taken from another plane of existence, the needle slowly spins around aimlessly.

Martyr’s Vow: A steel amulet painted with a palm marred by a crimson swirl. The amulet can be used as holy symbol for the purposes of casting spells or channeling divine might. When a creature you can see within 30 feet of you takes damage, as a reaction equivalent to an attack of opportunity the bearer can reduce the damage the target takes by the equivalent of a longsword (1d8) to a minimum of 0. Each time the bearer does this, he suffers the amount of damage that he spared the target from and this damage cannot be reduced in any way.

Moss Quiver: A soft leather quiver sporting an inner lining fashioned from moss. It is said that any arrow placed within will make no noise on impact. Although hard to believe, this species of moss certainly has a reputation from the marshes it is found within. The strange plant quickly covers projectiles placed within it with a layer of soft, sound absorbing moss but the material quickly dries out and dies when away from the quiver. When the bearer is hidden from a creature and misses it with a ranged weapon attack with a projectile or thrown weapon drawn from the quiver (arrow, bullet, javelin, etc.) that round, making the attack doesn't reveal the wielder's position.

Scroll of Shielding: A venerable spell scroll decorated with a crude drawing of a warrior's shield displaying an unknown crest of a kingdom long lost. A bearer capable of casting spells can read out the written incantation (As an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell) to grant themselves or a creature they can see within 30 feet a spectral shield that floats around them creating a protective barrier. This consumes the scroll but for the next hour, the target’s armor class or physical defenses are increased as if he was properly wielding a shield. The wielder may benefit from the armor class bonus (Typically a +2) even if he is already wielding a shield.

Potion of Witchy Healing: A hag-brewed healing draught that does the job but at a terrible price to one’s taste buds and stomach. The fetid potion knits bones, seals flesh and stanches the flow of blood from mortal wounds. As an action equivalent to attacking, the bearer can drink it himself or administer it to another conscious or unconscious creature. The drinker immediate regains three dagger’s worth of hit points (3d4+3). For one hour after consuming the potion, the drinker's digestive system is so upset that he gains no benefits of any kind from consuming a potion, elixir or helpful alchemical substance.

Death's Head: A grossly mutated Random Humanoid skull filled with the most virulent poxes of Nurgle the Plaguelord and sealed with blood-laced wax. It explodes when thrown at the enemy, showering them in filthy pus and rot. As an action equivalent to attacking, the wielder can throw Death's Head as a weapon they're considered proficient with at an enemy within 30 feet. On a successful attack, Death's Head deals five daggers worth of poison damage (5d4) and if the target suffers 10 points of damage or more, it is also poisoned for one minute. The damage that Death's Head deals ignores resistances to poison damage but not immunity.

Instrument of Illusions: A Random Musical Instrument that is an exquisite example of its kind, and is superior to an ordinary instrument in every way. While playing this musical instrument, the bearer can create harmless and obviously illusory effects within a 30 foot radius. These effects can include images, shapes, colors, sound, movement, and slight changes in temperature. Anyone experiencing these illusions is aware that the illusions are emanating from the instrument.

Murderer’s Gloves: A pair of gloves made of thin black leather and have a silver dagger embroidered on the dorsal side of the hand. While worn, the wielder's Sneak Attack damage dice are increased from d6's to d8's.

Moonstone: A warm blond stone the size and shape of a chestnut that feels smooth and oily. It glows with soft light like a brave candle when in areas of darkness.

Whispers of the Forgotten Tome: A small, weathered leather-bound book is filled with cryptic symbols and ancient text. Its pages emanate a faint glow, hinting at the secrets it holds. When opened, the pages softly rustle as if whispering forgotten knowledge and consulting the tome can grant limited insight into hidden truths. Once per day, the bearer can ask a single question about their immediate surroundings, and the book will provide a brief and enigmatic but truthful answer. The answer may come in the form of a riddle, a cryptic phrase, or a symbolic image. The interpretation of the answer is left to the bearer's discretion. Additionally, the presence of the book may occasionally attract the attention of scholars, sages, or those intrigued by ancient lore. This can lead to unexpected encounters, opportunities for knowledge exchange, or even quests related to forgotten mysteries.

Whispering Coin of Serendipity: A small, silver coin with intricate engravings on both sides. The object appears slightly worn, hinting at its mysterious history and when held, it emits a faint, soothing aura. The coin is fickle and grant its possessor a run of unexpected luck for good or ill when called upon when the bearer flips it and tries his fortune. Once per day as an action equivalent to attacking, the bearer can flip the coin and must roll 1d20. On an even numbered result, the bearer adds +1d4 to the result of any attack roll, saving throw or skill check he makes for the next 24 hours. On an odd numbered result, the bearer must subtract 1d4 from the result of any attack roll, saving throw and skill checks he makes for the next 24 hours.

Battlemage's Wristguard: An exquisite accessory crafted from dark brown leather and adorned with intricate brass metalwork. Wisps of blue and white arcane energy streak across the leather wristguard, forming mesmerizing cracks and patterns. Created as a basic defense for battlemages, it collects excess arcane power that’s emitted while the caster is channeling a spell and uses it to power a shield to guard the wearer from attacks and distractions. Whenever the bearer is actively concentrating on a spell, his Armor Class is increased as if he was properly wielding a shield (Typically a +2) and the wielder adds +1d4 to the result of any checks made to maintain concentration on the spell.

Urchin’s Reminder: A kelp bracelet beaded with irregularly round and dimpled carvings of ironoak; it is always damp against the skin. The band holds a simple dweomer crafted by a mercenary captain who was seeking enlightenment and wanted to stop his emotions getting the best of him. Whenever the bearer gains the Charmed or Frightened condition, spines erupt from the dimpled beads, focusing his mind and drawing a trickle of blood and dealing 1 point of piercing damage to the bearer. If the damage allows the bearer to reroll a saving throw against the effect causing him to be Charmed or Frightened, he adds +1d4 to the result of the reroll.

Castaway's Compass: A small, well-worn brass compass with a rich patina. When the compass is submerged in seawater, the needle changes from red to green and spins to point towards the nearest dry land.

Diem: A ring with cerulean strands intertwining themselves with similar white strands. Engraved upon the blue strands are symbols denoting the grace of water, and upon the white, symbols denoting the swift, fierceness of air. Once per day the bearer may activate the ring, allowing the bearer to activate a class ability, racial feature or other magic item that is only usable once short or long rest (Or once per day) that the bearer has already used for day. Activating the ring takes the same action as the power or ability that the bearer is trying to reactivate. When Diem is first found it has 1d4 charges on it. When Diem is activated, roll 1d20 and if the rolled number is the same or less than the number of charges on the ring, it crumbles into ashes and is destroyed. If the rolled number is greater than the amount of charges, it remains intact but gains 1 charge. There is no way to remove charges from the ring. ---Note: This item is vaguely worded and in theory could be activated to recast a wizard's highest level spell or to use Arcane Recovery again, it could be used for a fighter's Action Surge or Second Wind or grant a cleric another Channel Divinity. If the item is too strong, the DM is free to add more charges to it when the PC's find it or to make it gain 1 charge on an ability that the PC would regain on a short rest and 2 charges for something regained on a long rest.

Primal Bracers: A pair of matching silver bracers decorated with intricate leaf patterns made of emeralds. Their beauty alone is enough for it to be worth something but the minor power it possesses over the natural world adds considerably to its value. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that wondrous items like these were created by the Druid Dyonis and used to train and help new druids to the order. As an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell, the bearer can instantly make a flower bloom, a seed pod open, or a leaf bud bloom. Alternatively he can create an instantaneous, harmless sensory effect, such as falling leaves, a puff of wind, the sound of a small animal, or the faint order of skunk. The effect must fit in a 5-foot cube. Lastly the bearer can create a tiny, harmless sensory effect that predicts what the weather will be at his location for the next 24 hours. The effect might manifest as a golden orb for clear skies, a cloud for rain, falling snowflakes for snow, and so on. This effect persists until the start of the bearer’s next turn.

Cursed Cloak of Curses: A cursed cloak riddled with sewn on hexes, signs of ill omens and unlucky patterns, that would cause any superstitious viewer to want to throw it into the nearest fire. Closer inspect reveals even more invitations of calamity woven into the cloth itself; A small shard from a broken mirror, a hair from a black cat, skin of a toad, the feather of a dead raven, a vial of spilled salt, a deformed opal, and so on. The intense mixture of dozens of different minor misfortunes all clashing together actually seems to protect its bearer rather than causing him hardship. No single source of bad luck wins out, each fighting with the other and banding together to ward off any additional curses. The wearer adds 1d4 to the result of any saving throws he makes to resist curse type spells or effects. This includes any additional saving throws the curse might impose or if the bearer is suffering from an ongoing curse, any regular saving throws to resist or break free. Unsurprising, the cloak emits a strong malignant aura and easily registers as a cursed item for anyone capable of detecting cursed objects.

Scales of Accounting: A brass merchant scale that includes a small balance, pans, and a suitable assortment of weights up to 2 pounds. With it, you can measure the exact weight of small objects, such as raw precious metals or trade goods, to help determine their worth. Furthermore, a bearer can place one hand on the scale and another hand on a pile of gold, silver, copper or platinum coins within a 5-foot cube, the bearer can will the pile to be converted to their exact equivalent value in gold, silver copper or platinum coins.

Goblin Birthing Knife: An old rusty dagger with a wide and forbidding blade, shaped like a serrated leaf to cause greatest bloodletting. Despite its decrepit appearance, the blade projects the most fell sense of dark sorcery. Within one minute of using the Goblin Birthing Knife to kill a humanoid creature of medium sized or larger, the wielder can spend an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell to slit open that corpse's belly to reveal a newly birthed (But fully grown) Goblin. This goblin will have a favorable disposition to its creator but is wicked in its stupidity. Each time it is used in this way roll 1d20 and on a result of a 1, the blade will break off, nullifying the enchantment.

Serpent Lens: A monocle that appears to have a vertical pupil and is rimmed with snake skin in a configuration allowing it to fit over a wearer's right eye, like an eyepatch, though it does not have a strap. It radiates vivimantic energy and registers as a cursed item to spells and abilities that can detect it. If pressed over an eye, the lens will burrow into the wearer's face, consuming the wearer's natural eye in the process. This replacement is quite painful, taking an entire minute to complete while the wearer writhes in agony and is completely incapacitated. Afterwards, the bearer’s normal vision is unaffected but he can detect and identify poison and poisonous creatures by sight as they’re surrounded by a faint aura. Strength and danger of specific poisons may be detected, but the amount of detail available will vary based on knowledge and experience. The wearer is considered attuned to the Serpent Lens which consumes an attunement slot. If the wearer is targeted by a Remove Curse effect, the Lens falls out harmlessly and the bearer’s eye reappears. Should the Lens be removed by force, the process is incredibly painful and the bearer’s eye socket remains empty. Either method of removes breaks the attunment to the Serpent Lens.

Tablet of Opening: A thin sheet of stone carved with runes of opening and destruction. If pressed against a door, chest or 5-foot section of wall no more than 3 feet thick and shattered with a hammer, the door so pressed will similarly shatter. Shattering the tablet requires an action equivalent to attacking or casting a spell but any creature capable of swinging a hammer is capable of it.

Worklight: A leather headband with a small circular geode attached. The sparkling rock is marked with harsh rudimentary runes. The bearer can tap the crude markings to activate it which causes the crystals within the stone to cast a bright purple-amethyst light in a 60-foot cone and dim light for an additional 60 feet. Tapping the geode again turns the light off.

Potion of Resting: A sealed glass vial containing a green bubbling potion which tastes like lime. If consumed, the drinker’s body immediately attempts falls into a lethargic half-sleep while his body attempts to repair itself. For the next minute the drinker suffers disadvantage on all attack rolls, skill checks and saving throws and his speed is reduced by half. At the end of the minute, the drinker gains all the benefits of a short rest, as if had been able to lie down comfortably for a full hour.

Diluted Oil of Sharpness: A sealed glass vial filled with clear, gelatinous oil that sparkles with tiny, ultrathin silver shards. The oil can coat one melee weapon or up to 5 pieces of ammunition. Applying the oil takes 1 minute. For 1 hour, the coated item is considered a +1 magical and silvered weapon.

Fishmoss Spores: A small flask of brackish water mixed with spores of Fishmoss. The flask of water must be inhaled, not drunk, a highly unpleasant experience akin to physically drowning. Upon imbibing the liquid, the spores cling and rapidly grow on the inside of the persons lungs, allowing them to breathe water instead of air. For the next twelve hours, the drinker becomes able to breathe water as if it were air, but cannot breathe air during this time. It does not give a swimming speed, only prevents drowning.

Quill of the Nighthawk: A writing quill is made from an ethereal nighthawk's flight feather that has been enchanted to enhance its connection to the Ethereal Plane. Once per week, the bearer can use the quill to write a message up to one-hundred words long with the quill on a piece of parchment and send it to a creature with which he is personally familiar with. The parchment instantly folds itself into a miniature nighthawk and travels through the Border Ethereal to deliver itself to the recipient on their plane of existence. The parchment nighthawk takes 12 hours to reach its recipient and is intangible while in transit: immune to all damage and conditions. The recipient can respond by writing on the parchment, which will re-fold and return itself to the bearer (Taking another 12 hours), so long as they do so within 1 hour of receiving the message. The sender can choose to have the parchment nighthawk recite the message it contains aloud upon delivery, doing so in the sender’s voice. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that, once a year, the ethereal nighthawk molts and leaves feathers behind. These feathers are prized for their connection to the Border Ethereal and are excellent reagents in magical items or concoctions.

Alliance Rings: A pair of identical glass rings that shimmer from a stitch of eldritch energy that runs through their center. When two different creatures have each worn one of the rings for at least one hour, they both gain the ability to sense the direction and approximate distance from the other. They also revive a slight jolt (Which will wake them up) when the other ring wearer drops to 0 hit points.

Archaic Pact: A crumpled vellum scroll scrawled with an Infernal statement outlining the beliefs of a specific yet unnamed fiend. Whether or not you can read the language, any creature who studies the statement feels as though they can pronounce each word correctly, though they wouldn't understand the meaning. By repeatedly reciting the creed aloud as an action each round for one minute, the speaks cast Find Familiar, except the familiar takes the form of either an imp or a quasit (A speaker who can read and speak Infernal can choose, for others its a 50% chance of either). The creed is irrevocably absorbed into the familiar’s body and is completely destroyed when the familiar drops to 0 hit points. The familiar summoned by the creed is cursed. The archfiend who wrote the creed can observe the speaker through the summoned familiar, and if the speaker should ever die, familiar is not dismissed and rather becomes loose on the material plane to further the hellish causes of the Abyss.

Assassin’s Ring: An unassuming-looking signet ring hiding sinister features. The first is a single-chambered extradimensional space which can hold one dose of poison which remains potent and lethal as long as it stays within the chamber. The wielder can use an action equivalent to drawing a weapon to press part of its filigree to deploy the poison and apply it to a weapon or piece of ammunition that he is holding. Alternatively, the ring can be activated while holding a piece of food or a cup of liquid to mix the poison throughout the food or drink. The wielder gains advantage on checks made to conceal this action from observers. The ring can be filled with ten minutes of careful effort to funnel poison into the extradimensional space. The ring is protected by minor shielding wards and when worn by a living creature it does not give off a magical aura and is not detectable as a magical object.

Birdsong Whistle: A carving of reddish soapstone resembles a miniature cardinal. When air is blown through the lower back high-pitched sounds are emitted through the bird’s open beak. When the whistle is blown the sounds of songbirds are heard by all creatures in a 100-foot radius. These calls are indistinguishable from actual birds singing.

Cunning Tools: An exquisitely designed set of thieves’ tools made from silver worked only by the light of the full moon. They are enchanted to guide even the clumsiest felons to success. A bearer is considered proficient in these thieves’ tools even if they normally aren't and a creature who is already proficient in thieves tools adds 1d4+1 to the result of any skill checks made with them. In addition, the Cunning Tools fold down into a single, small smooth rosewood handle that appears to be a finely polished piece of wood. In this state the bearer gains advantage on checks made to conceal it and when carried by a living creature does not give off a magical aura and is not detectable as a magical object.

Fan of Whispering: A hand-fan painted with the image of a woman’s face breathing a gust of wind across a countryside. A bearer who holds the fan in front of his lips can communicate at a whisper to someone within 100 feet that he can see, without being detected by anyone else around. The fan does not grant the ability to reply to the messages.

Focusing Eye: A thumb-sized opal carved to resemble an open eye. As an action, a bearer can affix it to his forehead where it remains in place until he uses another action to remove it. While worn, the gem focuses, the wielder's mental facilities, clearing the psychic static and allowing him to better send and receive mental communications. While worn, the bearer can add 1d4 to the result of any insight, deception, intimidation and persuasion checks he makes while speaking telepathically with another creature. The opal does not grant its wearer the ability to communicate telepathically.

Gossip Earring: A brass earring sculpted into the shape of whispering maidens. While worn, whenever a creature says the bearer's name while within 100 feet the earring activates, transmitting the creature’s words as a hushed whisper into the bearer's ears until it has gone at least 1 minute without saying the bearer’s name.

Heaven's Roof Ring: A silver ring set with a flat gray stone etched with a wing. Whenever the creature falls from a serious height, his rate of descent slows to 60 feet per round and when he lands, he takes no falling damage and can land on his feet. While attuned, the bearer is also fully acclimated to great heights and automatically succeed on checks against the effects of the high altitude. The bearer must attune to the ring by sitting on the edge of a ledge, wall, cliff or other structure that is at least 10 feet tall and looking towards the ground for at least one hour.

Lucky Halfling Foot: A small hairy Halfling foot that has been shrunken, alchemically preserved and attached to a simple chain necklace as a pendant. Whenever the bearer rolls a natural 1 for an ability check, attack roll, or saving throw while wearing this necklace, he may choose to reroll and must use the new result. Once he makes a reroll in this way, he cannot do so again for the next 24 hours. In addition, halflings get an unnerving sense of this macabre trophy even when it is hidden, and while wearing this necklace the bearer has disadvantage on all charisma checks to interact with halflings. Alternatively, these mortal remains can be buried or burned properly through halfling funerary rites taking 1 hour. If these rites are completed, up to 8 creatures who took part in the proceedings can roll a Religion skill check with advantage and record the result as a mote of spiritual thanks from the halfling’s soul enters their body. Whenever a creature who has a mote within them rolls a natural 1 on an attack roll, skill check or saving throw, they can choose to expend the mote and replace the natural 1 with the result of the Religion skill check they recorded. Doing this consumes the mote.

Magic Mirror: A pocket mirror cast of silver from a sphinx's lair, housing glass made from the bones of a long dead seer, ground to dust. When viewed indirectly, its surface shows an insubstantial otherworldly face looking back. The mirror can be used as a spellcasting focus and twice per day can be used to cast Augury (See Note) as you ask a question and gaze into it. When you do so, your reflection whispers the answers to your questions. ---Note: Augury as a spell: https://roll20.net/compendium/dnd5e/Augury#content

Midnight Pearls: A damp silk pouch containing 1d4+2 lustrous black pearl earrings would look at home on a socialite but are rumored to have originated with a treacherous pirate captain. They always appear wet and give the air nearby the slightest taste of saltwater. A bearer does not require pierced ears to wear the earrings and when placed against the lobe they naturally stick to the skin. In addition to being highly fashionable, they can also help escape dangerous situations. A bearer can use an action equivalent to attacking, to drop and stomp on one of the pearls, destroying it to release a cloud of inky, magical darkness erupts in a sphere 15 feet in diameter centered on the bearer. The effect is impenetrable by darkvision and lasts until the end of the bearer's next turn.

Preserved Imp’s Head: A desiccated head of an imp that mumbles occasionally as if trying to speak but cannot, as its eyes and mouth sewn shut with a rough black cord. The fiend still lives in a twisted sense of the word and longs to escape this prison and return to Hell. The head shakes violently and curses whenever it is within 100 feet of an magical portal. If that portal leads to the abyss or a hellish plane the imp becomes enwreathed in harmless black flames as the fiend can taste the Sulphur of its homeland.

Steelsilk Mantle: An ornate purple dire-spider silk cloak, interwoven with enchanted steel threads. Whenever the wielder is attacked by a creature he can see, he can spin the cloak in its path in a defensive flourish to deflect the blow. Using an action equivalent to an attack of opportunity (See Note) the wielder can use the close to increase his armor class or physical defensiveness as if he was properly wielding a shield. The wielder may benefit from the armor class bonus (Typically a +2) even if he is already wielding a shield. —Note: If your system doesn’t use attacks of opportunity use the following rule: Once the wielder parries an attack he is no longer able to do so until the start of his next turn.

Practical Theology; A Beginner's Guide: A deceptively heavy, cloth-bound book adorned with divine symbols. It contains descriptions the basic concepts of prayer along with the symbiotic nature of Gods and mortals and how to properly request minor miracles. A creature who has read the volume for at least an hour a day for the past week obtains a rudimentary understanding of the power of prayer and gains the ability to cast one cleric cantrip of their choice that does not deal damage. The nature of spellcasting is demanding and precise and should the creature not keep up with studying the book for an hour per day they fall out of practice and must spend another week pouring over the tome’s pages. A creature who has gained a cantrip from reading the book can switch it to a different cantrip that doesn’t deal damage after reading the book for one hour. If the reader has spent 365 cumulative hours reading the book over the course of one year, he becomes proficient with one cleric cantrip of his choice that does not deal damage and no longer needs to consult the book each day to cast it.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Tim Three: Return of the Kink

Day 5: Collared and Craved (Collar)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairing: Spy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spy takes you to a hotel and gives you a very special gift

Tags: Collaring, sub/dom, oral, mirrors, hotels, aftercare

Word Count: 3.2k

The Masterlist

It was rare that you and Spy were able to get away from the base. Mercenary work seemed to always be in full swing, even if you were battling over land that was ultimately useless. Breaks were few and far between, but you tried not to complain. After all, you had seen Ms. Pauling’s work schedule, and that alone proved that it could always be worse.

Still, when you were lucky enough to be allowed some time off, you made full use of it. Or rather, Spy made full use of it. He was the one who decided the two of you desperately needed a getaway, booking a hotel and leaving town for a few days of much needed peace and quiet, far from the chaos of the base. At least, that was the explanation he gave the rest of the mercs. You knew better.

Your anticipation peaked when you finally arrived, stepping out of the car and into the lobby of a lavish hotel. Of course, Spy would spare no expense. Taking you by the arm, he led you to your room. With the turn of a key, you stepped into the lap of luxury.

“Oh wow!” You gaped at the room with wide eyes. It was clearly more of a suite than a room now that you got a good look at it.

“Impressive, non?” Spy said, clearly proud of himself.

“This is gorgeous! I’ve never stayed in a room like this before.” You quickly set off to explore the space. “Look at this kitchenette! And is this a jacuzzi tub?”

Spy watched as you paced about the suite, enraptured by it at every turn. He let you wander while he set your suitcases on a nearby sofa. At the moment you were particularly interested in the bathroom, clearly in awe at the size of the shower. It was certainly an improvement compared to the cramped locker rooms you were used to. Spy took the opportunity to open his suitcase, taking out something of great importance- the true reason why he had brought you here in the first place.

“This room isn’t the only surprise I have for you, mon amour!” he called out to you. You practically ran back into the main room, wide eyed.

“Spy, what else could you possibly have-”

“Come over here and I will show you,” Spy said, this time adding a quick and effective snap of his fingers.

To anyone else, such a gesture would seem mundane, or even a bit rude. To you, it was like flicking a switch. Both you and Spy knew what that snap meant. Promptly, you approached him, standing before him with your head bowed respectfully.

“Obedient as always,” Spy said. You could hear the approval in his voice, and it made you smile. You noticed that he was holding a small box in front of him, offering it to you. “Go ahead, open it.”

You took the box, running your fingers over it, simple, smooth, and black. Its surface offered no clues as to what it may contain. You lifted the lid delicately and gasped when you finally saw its contents. “Oh…” The inside of the box was lined with a deep red velvet, framing a strip of high quality black leather. A circular charm was attached at the center with a clasp. Upon closer inspection, you found the charm to be engraved with Spy’s class insignia.

It almost felt wrong to touch it, to remove the collar from its perfect, crimson casing, even though it was not delicate by any means. When you finally removed it from the box, you could tell that the leather was strong and sturdy, only the finest for you. “It’s beautiful,” you said.

“It will look even better on you. May I, my dear?” Spy held out a hand and you gave him the collar. He turned you around so that you were facing a nearby mirror. You watched, captivated as he clasped the leather around your neck. When he was finished he ran his hands over your shoulders, massaging them gently as he maintained eye contact through the mirror, looking almost ravenously at your reflection now that you bore his mark. “Is it comfortable? Tell me the truth. We can easily have it adjusted if it’s not.”

You reached up, fitting two fingers between your skin and the collar. A few deep breaths confirmed that your breathing wasn’t restricted. “It’s perfect,” you said, turning back around to face Spy.

“Not as perfect as the chiot wearing it.” Spy smiled down at you while you looked up at him, confused.

“Chiot?” You repeated the word with an inquisitive tone.

Spy smirked. “It means ‘puppy,’ ma chérie.” He paused to admire the blush that colored your cheeks. “Now, what do you say when your master compliments you?”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, embarrassed that it had taken you this long to offer your gratitude.

“Good girl. Now, I have quite a night planned for you, ange. To start, how about you prove just how deserving you are of that collar?”

A giddy smile spread across your face. “I would like that.”

You were quickly led to the bed. Even now, you couldn’t resist looking around the room, but it was only now that you began to notice some smaller details. A lack of windows allowed for the utmost privacy. Mirrors were placed almost strategically, especially around the bed, couch, and even the bathtub as far as you could recall. However the true cincher was the small, pink bottle of what was unmistakably lube placed on the nightstand, labeled with fancy calligraphy that read ‘complimentary.’ This was a hotel meant for very specific activities.

Spy sat on the edge of the bed, but when you moved to join him he shook his head. “Not yet. Kneel for me.”

You did so immediately, unfastening Spy’s belt with practiced skill. It wasn’t long before you had taken his cock in hand, stroking him with a familiar rhythm. You had done this part enough times for it to be routine. Once he was hard, the real fun would begin.

“You know just what to do, ma chérie,” Spy sighed, watching you work with rapt attention. You knew just what he liked, and it wasn’t long before he was standing at attention.

Opening your mouth, you started slow, licking along the underside of his cock. That earned you an appreciative groan. From there you worked up to the head, speeding up and slowing down as per Spy’s commands, often delivered in the form of simple hand gestures that you were quite familiar with. A beckoning motion urged you to go faster, while a gentle tap on your shoulder warned you to slow down. You always had a tendency to become a bit overeager. Spy had tried to train that out of you, only to eventually relent as it seemed to simply be a part of your nature. The most important thing was that he remained in control, and you always heeded his orders.

Eventually you worked your way up to taking him deep, barely even gagging as he hit the back of your throat. You had plenty of practice, after all. Spy’s soft moans also proved to be a great motivator. Those were the sounds you loved to hear, a clear sign that you were doing a good job. As long as he kept making those noises, you would gladly bring him to climax like this.

Spy knew you loved his moans, but he also knew that you loved to be praised, and every so often he would offer a bit of encouragement to spur you on even more. “Try to look up at me, darling. Oui, that’s it. So beautiful.” The way you moaned against him, low and deep, only enhanced the pleasure he felt.

He dug his fingers into the edge of the bed, trying to keep his composure, but it soon became clear that those vibrations were bringing him dangerously close to the edge. Spy took a deep breath, trying to regain some control. He motioned for you to slow down, but that didn’t stop you from continuing to moan around his cock. It was only when he began to feel tempted to buck into your mouth that he finally had to bring a stop to things.

“That’s enough darling!” Spy spoke suddenly, almost sounding panicked as he realized how close he was to spilling down your throat. You pulled away, lips swollen and breathing hard. With the collar around your neck and the way you were panting, you truly fit the image of an obedient little puppy. Once he collected himself, Spy patted the mattress, smiling down at you. “Come join me, pet.”

You sat up slowly, wincing a bit at the soreness in your knees before climbing onto the bed and- oh. Those were handcuffs. There were thick, leather handcuffs attached to the headboard. You glanced at them nervously. Restraint wasn’t one of your preferred methods of play. In fact, it was often paired with edging and some lengthy punishment. All of this was negotiated, of course, but it still wasn’t meant to be fun for you. Spy followed your gaze and was quick to assuage your fears.

“Pay those no mind. As long as you’re well behaved, we will have no need for them.” Spy shrugged, dropping his dominant image for a moment. “The truth is, they simply came with the room.”

That got a chuckle out of you. You took a moment to once again take in the abundance of mirrors surrounding the bed. Now you could even notice the reflective surfaces mounted to the ceiling. Spy seemed to meet your eyes in the reflections at times, making you glance away with a blush.

Spy leaned down to kiss you, feeling your body shiver beneath him. His tongue slipped out to taste you, a silent request to deepen the kiss, which you allowed with the parting of your lips. You tried to return the embrace with the same passion he exuded, but your resolve was waning as your arousal grew. You were helpless to do anything but tremble with need before long.

You whined against his mouth, your desperate attempts to speak to him muffled by his lips. He was addicted to you, tasting you and savoring you like a fine wine. Your lips were so warm against his. The sweet little whimpers you let out between breaks for air. His body was heavy on yours, a comfortable pressure that made you feel safe and secure. It was a shame when he sat back up again.

“On all fours, darling. Let me see how well you present yourself,” Spy said. You looked dazed. Even so, you managed to obey quickly, flipping over and arching your back.

Spy did tend to prefer positions where he could see your face, but every so often he could appreciate the primal rush of taking you from behind, watching you try to stifle your moans in a pillow so the rest of his team wouldn’t hear. You wouldn't need to worry about that tonight though. His team wasn’t here, these rooms were soundproof, and he would be sure to hear every little noise drawn past those pretty lips of yours.

Glancing forward, Spy noticed he wouldn’t have to worry about not seeing your face after all. A perfectly placed mirror, no doubt meant for activities such as this, allowed him to see your expression so long as you kept your head up and facing forward. Right now you looked positively desperate, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, hands balled into fists that gripped at the bedsheets. You needed him badly. “I want you looking at that mirror the whole time, ma chérie, understand?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good. I want you to watch me as I take you.” You watched as he leaned over, retrieving that small bottle from the nightstand. “I want to see the beautiful expressions you make when I pleasure you.”

You watched obediently as Spy reached over to retrieve the bottle of lube from the nightstand. He poured some onto his fingers, leaving them glistening and slick. You gasped, startled when Spy slowly but suddenly pushed a single digit into you. You clenched around his finger, already desperate for more. “Feels good,” you whimpered, barely able to form a full sentence. “More, please!”

Spy met your gaze in the mirror, your pleading eyes reflected back at him. “It seems I hardly needed lube at all. You are practically dripping for me.”

Your face went crimson and you had to fight the urge to instinctively hide away in the nearest pillow. A second finger was soon added, but it seemed even Spy was growing impatient with teasing you. You heard him fiddling with the lube again, the pop of the cap followed by the slick sound of Spy stroking himself, preparing himself for you. ‘Finally,’ you thought. You were lucky you weren’t standing, as your knees would have surely buckled the moment you felt Spy’s cock pressing against your entrance.

“You have done so well for me,” Spy whispered, placing his hands on your waist before finally sliding in. His eyes fluttered closed, a look of pure bliss crossing his features, mouth falling open with a low moan. “You’ve earned this, ma petite fleur. Make sure you enjoy every moment of it.”

Oh, you most certainly would. You moved your hips back to meet his thrusts, feeling him deep as he grazed against all the right spots. This was what you needed, what you had been craving since Spy fastened that collar around your neck. One of your hands went up to it for a moment, feeling the charm dangling from the leather. You felt it between your fingers, smirking with pride at the feeling of the engraving. You were his. You were all his.

“You are perfect. So beautiful, and so good. You make me want to show you off, darling. Would you like that?” Spy asked. He held a tight grasp on your hips, pulling them against his whenever you tried to answer him, assuring that your response would come only as a half-coherent moan. Even so, you still tried.

“Yes sir! I would like that,” you gasped as another particularly hard thrust practically chased the air from your lungs.

“Perhaps I could take you like this in front of our teammates, make a proper exhibitionist out of you. Would you whine and perform like the little dog you are?” Spy chuckled, tugging slightly at your collar for emphasis. “My good little puppy. Imagine how envious they would be, knowing you’re all mine, seeing how well you take my cock. Oh merde, you’re going to make me come, darling!”

Spy’s voice broke, his composure beginning to crack. You were close too. “Please,” you begged. Your arms were shaking. You weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to hold yourself upright. “Please touch my clit! I’ve been good, I’ve been so good!”

“You have, chérie.” It was obvious that Spy was beginning to lose himself. He was doubled over, leaning more of his weight on you. “You’ve been such a good girl.”

Reaching around your waist, his fingers found that sensitive, neglected bundle of nerves. You collapsed onto your elbows, still trying to hold your head upright so that Spy could watch you as you came for him. You nearly screamed, crying out as the tension in your core finally found release. Spy was shuddering against you. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he rode out the high, trying his best not to collapse on top of you once it was over.

You were not as successful in that endeavor, falling limp the moment the aftershocks began to ebb. Your limbs felt numb, completely useless for holding you up anymore. You laid face down on the mattress, breathing in the clean cotton scent of the hotel sheets. Spy settled in next to you, rolling you over so that you could get some fresh air. You had just enough strength to hook a leg over his, your limbs becoming entwined. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable position, but the afterglow was so thick around you that it wasn’t an issue. All that mattered was being as close as possible, soothing and guiding each other through the drop.

Spy showered you with affection, his lips pressing softly against your cheeks and sometimes migrating to your lips if you were receptive to it. Between kisses he would whisper to you, sometimes praise, sometimes reassurance, and every so often an “I love you.” You whined when he suddenly moved to get up from the bed, but you were placated with promises that he would be back in just a moment.

You heard water running, and sure enough, Spy returned with a glass of cold water from the kitchenette. You sat up, taking the glass and downing it, not realizing how thirsty you had been. In the distance, you could still hear a faucet running. “I’m preparing a bath for us,” Spy explained, kissing your cheek again. “They have bubbles, and I requested your favorite soaps- vanilla, lavender, jasmine. I am partial to lavender, but whatever you choose is fine.”

He let you lean against his chest for a moment, taking the now empty glass back before you dropped it. “Thank you,” you sighed. The pressure of jacuzzi tub jets against your sore muscles sounded absolutely heavenly right now. Your eyes had drifted shut, but you opened them again when you felt something else being placed in your hands.

“There are also these, in case you need a little something to boost your energy,” Spy said, motioning towards the box he had just handed you. You untied the ribbon holding it closed with shaky hands, opening it to reveal an array of fancy chocolates. Of course Spy would go for one of the most cliché romantic gifts in the book. Not that you were complaining as you took one and popped it into your mouth, letting it melt on your tongue with a satisfied hum.

“Thank you,” you said again. Absentmindedly, you raised a hand to your throat, feeling the collar that had incited this whole night, still fastened around your neck. As much as you loathed the thought of taking it off, you didn’t want to risk ruining it with soap and water.

“Turn around,” Spy said, seemingly reading your thoughts. He began to unfasten the buckle, letting the leather fall away from your neck. “Only I can take this on and off, mon amour. Can you agree to this rule?”

“Yes sir,” you said, watching as he placed the collar back into its velvet lined box for safe keeping.

“Splendid. Also, just so you know, the charm is removable, so you can wear it discreetly, even in public.” You blushed hard at that. The idea of wearing an otherwise inconspicuous symbol of ownership felt so scandalous, and you rather liked it. Spy kissed you again, tasting a hint of chocolate on your lips. “But that will be an adventure for another day. That bath should be ready by now. Here, let me help you up, chére.” You stood up on shaky legs, leaning heavily on Spy. Carefully, he led you towards a much needed bath and some well earned rest.

[sytokun]

Watching the Spider-verse crunch discussion going on in relation to RWBY and the whole #GreenlightVolume10 thing has been interesting to say the least.

Of course, there's many fucked up people who don't care about the crunch, and even endorse it since ATSV did so well; but from what I've seen, most people have been sympathetic and acknowleged that waiting for the third movie to be finished in due time and treating the workers well is far better than rushing the conclusion to what could be one of the greatest animated film trilogies of the decade.

You make your best work when you don't have the gut-curling dread of unemployment and impossible deadlines hanging like a sword over your head. ASTV could have been even more amazing without the crunch.

Good God, if only we had voices this loud in the RWBY fandom. If only the RWBY fandom's loudest voices were the ones who advocate for ethical treatment above everything else, and not the ones pushing to get more RWBY content made above everything else, fighting tooth and nail and lining the parasitic company's pockets to see their beloved franchise continue, regardless of who would be ground to dust to make it happen.

I've seen many animators and artists saying they worked on shows most people look down on like Big Mouth and Mulan, and saying those productions treated them far better and they felt way better working on them, in spite of the end quality of the product. It made me at least respect the work more, because even if it was disliked, at least the people making it didn't have to suffer making it, or even gained much from it.

But with RWBY, it's a lose-lose game. The show's writing and animation quality is fleeting at best -- certainly nowhere near the level of Spider-verse. Its great moments are always undermined by the absolute worst writing decisions and character derailment in modern fiction. Outside of its core fandom, RWBY is the fucking laughing stock of the greater anime community and this is sheer fact. Nobody takes it seriously and every Tuesday a RWBY fan is going around picking fights with other anime communities or with other RWBY fans. I love RWBY but it does no favours for its own reputation at all.

If the workers making RWBY were treated well, I could care less how many Volumes they make and their quality, or how much of a laughing stock it is. But this is Rooster fucking Teeth we're talking about. Do you really think if they cared about RWBY's quality, they'd wipe out their entire animation department all at once after V9? This means every Volume's production is a literal coin-flip because there's no time to build a functioning team there with established lead animators.

So you guys want to bleed these animators and artists dry, just to get the same mediocre product anyway? Rooster Teeth had 2 years to perfect the script of Volume 9 to the finest detail and still somehow took a page out of GEN: Lock's universally hated suicide plot for their climax. We had the goodwill to give them 2 years to make V9 the best it could be, and they took that goodwill to cut episodes from it and go make the JL crossover movie instead. And even if we still get the same mediocre product, we fucking know like 80% of everyone who's worked on it are going to be crunched to the bone and left without a job afterwards, so there's not even the comfort of the staff having a good work experience or stable employment from it.

Every single thing I liked about Volume 9's action scenes, environments or characters, I have to live with the fact that the person responsible for it may never return to RWBY's production to keep making it better. There was a fight animator you really loved? Too bad! RT didn't find them valuable enough so they went elsewhere to offer their skills to Trigun: Stampede or Spider-verse instead. Oops! Those animated stories ended up doing really well are are praised for their amazing animation! Sucks that we didn't keep them around for RWBY, huh?

So, why the fuck is the fandom fighting so hard for Volume 10 then? Certainly it's not for the now non-existent animators occupying their empty offices, which as we speak Rooster Teeth is clamouring to fill job openings for. I wish the RWBY fandom knows that by pushing for Volume 10 just out of sheer stubborn attachment, they are not on the good side here, and never will be. No amount of emotional music and stellar fights are going to justify knowingly putting animators through the grindstone for another year or more, only to be tossed out until they are needed again.

You think I like this either? I really fucking don't. I believe RWBY deserves to see itself through to the end. I love its cast and world and want more people to give it a chance, if only to properly understand what they're dismissing. But real people are the cost here.

I don't care how "complicated" or nuanced you think it is because you have some imaginary box of who you think in CRWBY are good or not, or what scraps of representation you think people's livelihoods are worth ruining over -- it really is not. Either the workers are going to be sacrificed on the altar of your attachment to a fictional show, their mental health and compensation only a secondary concern, or you think that this shit is evil and should never be allowed to fucking happen.

And if the Spider-verse situation hasn't made that line clear already, then I seriously ask you to reevaluate whatever sliver of humanity you have remaining.

[warrentrash]

you’re a fine girl

BRADLEY BRADHSAW X READER 

a/n: i’ve never written for bradley before and posted it whoops. based on the song Brandy (You’re A Fine Girl) by Looking Glass. it’s just so bradley in my mind and request for bradley are open !!

word count: 1k

warnings: angsty (???)

Working at the Hard Deck was only going to be a short chapter in what you called your book of life, but nothing typically ever goes the way it's planned and you liked that — You had been working there for over six years now. The atmosphere of the bar had you captivated from the moment you stepped inside, but it’s the people that had led you to stay for as long as you had. The bar served a hundred ships a day, as well as many sailors and pilots that were either making their way through, or were stationed on base for a while. 

The conversation you would have with them would bring a smile to your face each time as they told you all about their homes and their family that they missed so dearly. However, they all shared one desolate secret — They were in love with the sea, and with the skies. It was a love that would send them to an early grave, and that was something they seemed to be content with. Deep down, it frightened you, for you were almost certain the man you were hopelessly in love with was no different from the rest.

Each night you would have the same crowd stumble into the bar and order their whiskey and wine, harmlessly flirting with you like they always did. You fed into it - You loved the attention you got from them. It made the work furthermore enjoyable. 

They would always say, ‘Y/n, you're a fine girl. What a good wife you would be.’ And you would thank them and pour them more drinks.

One thing that attracted them all to you was a quality of yourself you had never considered to be of great worth. Your eyes. But boy, oh, boy did they all love you for them. 

‘Your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea!’ It was flattery at its finest, and coming from sailors, it was a compliment like none other and you took it with pride. 

There was one night, you were following the usual routine and pouring drinks and squabbling with tipsy service men and women for joy, when one of your regulars had called you over with a wave of his hand. 

‘What can I get you love?’ You asked him, fiddling with an old coaster on the bar. 

He raised his eyebrows and nodded his head at your chest before he took a large swig of his drink. Through a hiccup he asked, ‘What’s that you got there?’ 

You looked down at your chain and gently touched the braided silver. A small smile washed over your face as you thought back on your boyfriend, who had gotten it for you when he did a tour in the north of Spain. It astounded you that he had thought of you even when he was so far away. He came back to visit you every summer, bringing gifts from all over the world. 

Bradley had made it clear from the day you both met that the Navy would be his greatest love. You respected it — You had no idea what you were doing, you were just taking it day by day, and you admired the way he turned his passion into a career. Bradley was the first to confess his love for you on a warm summer's night in front of the Hard Deck, not that it took you long after to do the same. Three days to be exact. It made things hard for you both to acknowledge these feelings. You had both fallen hard and fast without any second thought to the repercussions.

You were willing to move about with him, reassuring him that there would be bartending jobs in just about any corner of the planet, and that you would adapt. You didn’t want the money, you wanted him. He refused. He saw how much you loved being at the Hard Deck and always said he wouldn’t pull you away from something that brought you that much happiness. Your years of service to the bar were a testimony to his argument. 

He would grab you by your hands, gently spin you around as you walked in the sand of the moonlit beach, and say the same words you heard every night from sailors and pilots from around the world, but you were beginning to fail to believe. 

‘Y/n, you're a fine girl. What a good wife you would be…’ He never finished his sentence there. ‘But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea.’

You would watch his eyes when he told you his sailor and pilot stories, and you could feel the ocean fall and rise, and you would see all its raging and glory. You could feel the passion between them, something you two had never managed to build for one another. 

Bradley always told the truth. 

‘I’ll see you next summer, when I come back. I’ll bring you a surprise, like I always do. I promise.’ 

You tried your best to understand why you would smile, bat your eyelids and agree to his words despite how much pain they caused you. Why would you put yourself through so much torture and torment for a man that could never be yours? 

Each night when the bar closed, you would walk through the silent town and watch the families settle into their homes with their loved ones, knowing that they would up their lives and move for them in a heartbeat. It was a love that you would never have, instead, you continue to give all your love to a man who’s not around. 

Through the soft crash of the waves and the crickets in the bushes, you could still hear Bradley whisper to you the words you had been reluctant to truthfully hear. 

‘Y/n, you're a fine girl. What a good wife you would be… But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea.’

[swirlysmile]

Iceman spending an evening out with his s/o after a long week? :3 thank you!

you’re welcome, anon! hope this is what you had in mind. swear i’ll write something longer one of these days 🙏

my boy rio ronny makes a small appearance, so proud of him.

word count: 873

warnings: none

Night On The Town

Weeks in the Navy were always long. He didn’t get to spend much time with you. Iceman was either on base or asleep, regaining strength for the next day of perilous training. Luckily, he had the weekends open to spend time with you.

“Baby,” He’d say, “I’ve spent all week with my friends. I want to spend some time with you,” and sure, you could argue that training isn’t quality time with friends, but he was just so damn convincing when he smiled like that. 

So, when he got home he changed clothes, reassuring you that he took a shower on base. Not that it was hard to tell with his floppy, and wet, blond hair. 

Tom throws on his aviators, walking out of the bathroom with dry hair. It’s styled perfectly, as usual.

“Ready to spend a night out on the town?” He asks, throwing a piece of gum into his mouth. 

You respond by pecking him, and he takes your hand to lead you to the car.

He starts with a quaint little restaurant, a favorite for date nights. The first time he had brought you there, he claimed it had the best Italian-American food in town. It didn’t disappoint.

“This is your idea of a night on the town?” 

“Hey,” he says, hands up in defense. “I just had a tiring day at work.” 

You say nothing more, glancing down at your menu. Of course you know what you’re going to order. 

“I promise I have more planned.”

“I’m content with this if you’re too exhausted,” you say. Tom, being the cocky man he is, takes this as a challenge. 

You order your food and politely thank the waiter who brought it to you. Tom talks about his day, and it’s nice. You haven’t really gone on a date like this in so long- neither of your schedules permitting it. 

The Navy works him hard, and your job as a receptionist is demanding too. Maybe slightly less, but still tiring for the average citizen.  

“How was it?” 

“Great, as always.” 

Ice smiles, feeling accomplished.

He pays, adding in a generous tip before you leave. The air outside is chilly, enough for a coat, but not quite frosty. The leaves are turning yellow, as they always do in fall, swaying with the soft breeze. It’s gorgeous.  

“I’m so lucky to have you.” He says, tightening his grasp on your hand. You’re walking down the street to window shop a little. The yellow street lights are a little dim, and not preferable, yet somehow, he still looks good. 

You pass every shop imaginable. There’s the small dessert shop that’s proudly displaying its many pastries, and you’d be lying if you said they didn’t look delicious. The “fancy clothing” shop proudly bearing mannequins wearing only the finest of silks, and then there’s a thrift store housing all-too-happy minimum wage employees.

The corner store, however, is a nice jeweler. There’s a gorgeous necklace on display, the jewels shimmering in the fluorescent shop lighting. You do a double take, and Ice immediately notices your interest. 

“It’s a good looking necklace,” 

“It’s an expensive looking necklace.” You laugh, leading him away. 

Of course you spend more time browsing the selection of shops down the long street. You pop into the pastry shop, and even the fancy clothes shop, albeit to make fun of the clothing. 

You smile seeing the vendor on the other side of the road, booth filled to the brim with sunglasses.

“You’re such a dork,” Ice says lovingly, when you imitate him trying on said sunglasses. You end up buying them, and Ice laughs at you.

You even end up seeing Slider, Tom’s RIO, with his wife doing the same thing. Spending time together on the weekends.

“Told you my friends and I spend enough time together, look at him avoiding me.” 

“Ouch, Slider is your only friend?” you tease. “Pretty much.” Ice adds, no hesitation. 

He’s never been one to make friends, preferring to stick to his already set up clique. 

Ice walks you back up the street to your car.

“Bar sound good?” He asks, and you nod. A few stronger drinks never hurt, but the wine at dinner was nice. 

Tom is prepared to be designated driver, just wanting to spend time with you. You agree with little hesitation, and he pays for some drinks. 

It’s nice, getting to spend this quality time with your boyfriend. Just getting to be with him doing things you enjoy, and it doesn’t happen much. He savors the time he spends with you.

After a few drinks, you’re much looser than you had expected to be. You’re sure that if this had been Vegas, and not Virginia, Elvis would have officiated the wedding by now. 

Ice practically pulls you away from the bar and out the door. He’s hoping you won’t remember his detour, and lucky for him by the time you get there, you’re out cold, thanks to the alcohol. 

He wouldn’t say that was his plan, but it was. 

You wake up a little confused, but in your bed with a note next to you, and that damned necklace, and your heart melts.

Thought you might like this.

See you later,

Tom

[designinnovationart]

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✋ COPYRIGHT:

All rights reserved. The content, images, and design of this listing are protected by copyright. Unauthorized use or reproduction is strictly prohibited.

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While we strive to provide accurate product information, we cannot guarantee that the colors displayed on your monitor will accurately represent the actual product. Due to variations in computer monitors, we recommend referring to the product description and images for the most accurate color representation.

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