The Tiny Haunted Ass In My Dice Set...
Putting Edgar’s ashes into a set of D&D dice feels like either a beautiful memorial idea or me willingly inviting a fae curse directly into my home.
Because yes, he was the sweetest little black cat alive.
Absolutely obsessed with being involved in every single thing happening at all times.
But he was also catastrophically chaotic.
Like genuinely built wrong by god.
That cat had the energy of a medieval peasant child who got swapped at birth with a woodland trickster spirit and then raised exclusively on bad decisions.
And we FULLY believe the fae took him.
There used to be mushroom circles in the backyard where he played.
One singular mystery mushroom kept growing in his favourite indoor plant he loved chewing on like a deranged little goat.
Then the day after he died?
Like the contract had been fulfilled and they came to collect their tiny weird employee.
Now the automatic litter box just randomly says “cat lost,” which we all have just accepted Edgar’s off on a void adventure (because all living cats are always accounted for)
Then hours later it switches to “cat found,” like he just clocks back in from whatever nonsense dimensional relm he's been side questing in.
So naturally my next logical decision is:
Putting his ashes into dice.
No possible consequences there.
Which means I am potentially about to roll death saves with the spiritual remains of a cat who may currently be running errands for the fucking fae.
I am BEGGING you not to manipulate probability for comedic effect.
Please do not tank critical rolls because you think it would be funny to watch me psychologically deteriorate in real time at the table.
And I know for a FACT if there is a way for your tiny haunted ass to roll a natural one at the worst possible moment purely for entertainment value,
You absolutely fucking will.
And I have already cried enough because of you.
Do NOT make me cry again, you little shit.