#d20 fic

[scalematey]

seeing amelia's post reminded me that i should also upload the valentines that i made for v-day exchange. go ham (and also check out the AO3 collection!)

[eemolu]

there would never be any situation ever where gorgug's opinion wouldn't be welcomed and celebrated. and everyone knows that!!!! (& yes more bad kids group chat fics in the works as always)

[n1-adora-fan]

I like how I wrote this and then in the following month I wrote 13k+ words of d20 fic (psst you should read my texting au bad kids fic if you haven’t already) and precisely 7 words of my college essay

[d20advent]

D20 Advent 2025 Masterpost

This fan event took place in Dec 2025, and was an Advent Calendar of 25 Dimension 20 fanfics, with one new fic being released each day on AO3!

Click here to see the full collection!

Days in order:

have a yule that's cool by dryadfiona (TUC, Pete-centric)

A Cup (a cookie) of Cheer by Neushroom (FH, Fabian/Gorgug)

you and me, in sweet memory by sharkbaithahaha (ACOC, Caramelinda/Lazuli)

all wrapped up in silver paper by satisfactuality (Multi, Diff POVs)

shoe saint's day by serenescribe (CloHo, Marya/Ludmila)

The Clockwork Knight vs The Rat Queen in the Land of Trinkets by calico_star (CloHo, Maxwell/Torse)

Gift of the Wurst by andy_spurs (ASO, Gunner Channel)

the sun is going down (and christmas is near) by godmarked (TUC, OC/Pete & Cody)

i've got the candles glowing in the dark by wormholes (ACOC, Lapin-centric)

thou shalt find the winter’s rage / freeze thy blood less coldly by transgenderfabianseacaster (FH, Buddy & Bricker & Cork)

Going up the hill (for better signal) by Vicee (ASO, Skip & Norman)

you're still gonna be my baby, even when you're my age by floraphobic (FH, Lydia & Ragh)

--and i'll be spending christmas all alone. by cursedtrees (FH, Adaine/Oisin)

One Deadly Menorah by Gayandtrashy (TUC, OC-centric)

as the days go by, the more we need friends by HerkimerAurora (ASO, Skip & Norman, Barry Nyne & Barry Syx)

First Annual Aguefort Academy Snow Ball by wolfsongrevival (FH, The Bad Kids)

pinfeathers by Rennajade (CloHo, Marya/Ludmila)

oh, by gosh, by golly by indominusgay (CloHo, Zephyr Crew)

Tradition by rratking (FH, Jawbone & Tracker)

maybe i'm afraid of you by meowmedusa (FH, Aelwyn & Sandra Lynn)

a not-so-lonely moonar yulenear by honeyfluent (FH, Riz & The Bad Kids)

deck those halls, trim those trees by a_guy_named_e (ASO, Skip/Norman, Polywurst)

glitter & crimson by floraphobic (FH, Fabian/Gorgug)

can't believe we're here on my favorite holiday by seeyouinthestars (CloHo, Olethra & The Zephyr Crew)

an extraordinary merry christmas by massivdisaster (Multi, Fabian/Gorgug, Barry Nyne/Norman, Maxwell/Olethra)

Thanks for reading! We'll see you next year :)

[waveridden]

3, 20, 34, or 50 for torsewell? your pick obvs those just excite me

3. hiding face in neck

With all of Maxwell's bravado, his daring and boldness, there's something disconcerting about seeing him off-balance. And he is off-balance in the most literal sense; Torse has to keep one hand wrapped around his waist to stop him from pitching forward.

"I'm okay," Max says for the dozenth time in half a dozen minutes. He punctuates this by tipping to one side, nearly banging his head against Torse's shoulder. "I could've taken them."

Torse, frankly, has bigger concerns than arguing that statement. Max is a deeply capable fighter who happened to be losing a fight badly against a couple of Tabiran troublemakers. Torse had arrived just in time to watch Max take a punch across the head, hard enough that the crack was audible from dozens of yards away. Max had hit the woman back, naturally, and by then Torse was there, by his side, finishing the fight.

And now: "Torse," Max says insistently. "You can let go of me."

"No," Torse says, as that's the fastest way to ending the conversation. "And you can't walk."

Maxwell pouts at him. A real pout. "I thought you wouldn't notice."

Torse pays a disproportionate level of attention to Maxwell. Instead of saying as much, he herds Max over to the closest bench and leads him to sit. "Rest. The crew will find us."

"I know," Max says, and tugs at Torse's arm. It's a childlike tug, a symbol of a request more than an effort to make it so; even so, Max is strong and sure, and Torse follows the movement easily. "Do you think less of me?"

"For losing a fight?" The thought is ridiculous. Torse would laugh, if he weren't so worried about Maxwell. "No. Stop worrying."

Maxwell mumbles something that Torse doesn't catch and then, carefully, begins climbing into Torse's lap. Torse keeps one hand hovering nearby, ready to steady him and stop him from falling into a spike or a sharp edge of metal. But Max moves with such certainty, such determination, that there's nothing to do but watch as he firmly nestles his face into the side of Torse's chest, where his neck would be were he a human.

Torse looks straight ahead, not quite willing to look down, not willing to feel the strength of what he knows he will feel upon seeing Maxwell pressed against him. He lowers his hand to rest on Max's back, and Max relaxes against him. Torse already feels warmer with his body heat.

"As long as you don't mind," Maxwell says. There's half of a question there. Torse can't be sure if he means the proximity or the fighting or something else, something bigger that they've been at the edge of.

"I could never mind," Torse answers. It's the truth for all those scenarios and more.

[punishandenslavesuckers]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Kalina has a new toy.

She’s always aware of novel infections, but having hit a certain critical mass, Kalina doesn’t always pay them much mind, cutting in quickly to inspect a new facet in a kaleidoscope that’s been expanding for hundreds of years is a thing she does by reflex. What’s another nerve ending firing in the spiral galaxy of input around her?

But this infection flares hot in her awareness. A star igniting in the void. It drags her attention in like quick motion in the corner of her eye and—sudden as sinking her teeth into a mouse—Kalina finds herself embedded in a body bleeding to death on the floor of grubby flophouse. Said body is, despite the agony of doing so, shrugging off a set of shoulder holsters housing an arcane handgun and several clips of ammunition.

Which means her new toy is Solesian.

More accurately, a Solesian Secret Service agent. (If she’s clocked the gun model, correctly.)

Interesting.

Her new toy is also a goblin. Fang-folk. Young. Male. Moderately injured from some kind of fight which has him fetched up against the side of the bed, holding a section of his abdomen shut while the flesh across his right oblique slowly knits itself back together. Kalina questions the vector of transmission. How did he get infected alone in this room? She expands her awareness a little, using a living thing as an arcane sensor from which to snake her awareness. A mycological thing sending rhizoids out to see beyond her new toy—

Ah. There.

In a pile of hastily dumped equipment by the foot of the bed lies a battered and time-corroded healers kit, over 200 years old now, but recognizable to Kalina as the day Landrin finished it. The real Kalina, deep in the nightmare Forest, snorts. Wow. The fates do fuck about, don’t they? This young man half-dead on the floor of a filthy room in Fallinel might be the first in two centuries infected by, no shit, one of Landrin’s old tonics, stolen from the depths of Fallinel’s artifact storage.

When you’re hemorrhaging blood uncontrollably and your standard issue IFAK doesn’t have enough greater healing potions (Kalina can see the empty SSS-standard cartridges in a bandolier on the floor) an enterprising secret agent might, as a last resort, drink questionably expired health potions in a stolen elven artifact.

Fucking wild.

Kalina slides out of her new host; the majority of her awareness pools into the space beside him so she can manifest fully and really get a good look.

He’s small, obviously. Fang-folk are small-folk. She’d put him at four foot four with his spine straight at most. Details: Big gold-through-the-sclera eyes, sharp jawline. Freckles. He’s got a charming, barely-there dust of freckles in the cool green of his complexion. Dark emerald hair shaved close on the sides, long enough to curl on top. This near to him, Kalina can see, even curled in the fetal position, that her new toy is built so very lithe, so nicely proportioned through the shoulders cutting down to a narrow (grabbable) waist.

“Interesting,” she says to only herself.

Who are you, kid?

TBC on AO3

[mercurymasc]

i want to work the "girls night + gorgug" group chat into my girlgug fic somehow but idk how to make it worrkkkkk

[brionbroadway]

“I just don't want to see my son killing himself to get huge accolades for other people that call him The Ball.”

She doesn’t get it.

Which is weird, because his mom gets everything. She is the only person Riz trusts to put pins on his conspiracy board. She sees connection where others see coincidence; she gets confessions where others get pleasantries. She is intuitive but not hasty, confident but not conceited. She’s smart.

So it’s strange, for there to be a disconnect in her perception to what Riz considered a fact.

“The Ball is a good thing.”

Of all the mysteries in his mind, this was not one of them.

His friends love him, and he loves them, so he helps. It’s what his dad would do and what his mom still does, and he is lucky enough to have parents that can double as role models. What can he trust in if not that and his friends?

“I don’t like it. Your name is Riz, and your friends, whom I love, I just want to make sure that you're not being taken advantage of.”

She does love his friends; that’s another fact. Riz has to reconcile that love and disapproval can coexist, that unfair treatment can happen without intention.

But it is different now than it was at the beginning of the school year, right? He can’t deny that his friends are working hard, even if their methods aren’t always the ones he’d choose for them. The facts are, and the facts are what Riz needs to focus on, that all of them are somehow facing more than they ever have before, stressors stacked on top of each other until they can no longer see one another.

His mom doesn’t get it.

And Riz feels lonelier than he did at the beginning of their conversation.