#small dnd

[itsbrucey]

Big fan of sun motifs in characters not necessarily being about positivity and happiness and how they're so " bright and warm" but instead being about fucking brutal they are.

Radiant. A FORCE of nature that will turn you to ash. That warmth that burns so hot it feels like ice. Piercing yellow and red and white. A character being a Sun because you cannot challenge a Sun without burning alive or taking everything down with them if victorious.

[karinyecrafts]

THE FINAL 24 HOURS OF CALLING ALL ADVENTURERS! (PRIDE EDITION 🏳️‍🌈)

Want to celebrate pride by supporting a small business and treating the members of your party? Then treat them to some pride themed D20s! I’m bringing back my pride pals sale. All orders of three or more stickers will get a 35% off discount applied to your cart from the 27th of May to the 10th of June. The D20s were designed by your local nonbinary lesbian and proceeds will go towards keeping me afloat during my job search 🥰

You can find them on my Etsy page here 🏳️‍🌈

[drathe]

Threads of fate, light of life

Loxley Tarot card - The Sun with Wheel of Fortune bits

[comikbook]

Death and the Lady- More Mercy art !

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[rhyfedd-games]

Dnd hermit number 22, Joe hills the sentient puppet bard. I had the idea to do the joe puppet thing but didn't want to draw a body puppeting him, then i remembered magehand is a thing.

I feel like a mage cast magic jar on the original joe, trapping him in a puppet but the pure bardic power manifested the hands and he continued his adventure as if nothing had happened.

[carrotchipper]

my take on a bunch of dnd/fantasy creatures

[liscrispim]

commission for @tahsta !! thank you for letting me draw your gorgeous character

ps: my commissions are currently open <3 if you're interested, check out the link in my pinned post!

[friendlyforestbeast]

Dancing til dawn ✨☀️🌙

The fabulous Yikes belongs to @hellscribbles

[shripscapi]

My grave cleric Sybille for a campaign I am playing with my friends :)

She’s spent most of her life serving as an anchoress of her faith locked up in a cell contemplating death, but natural disaster- or divine intervention by her telling- have just set her loose upon the world for the first time in centuries

[timot-ei]

Can confirm that while love flowers (uncut) I also want a Japanese 14th century mountaineers axe with heart shaped holes from the Muromachi period, with added bronze reinforced shaft. Preview of art which will be made public later, still active on my patreon getting ready to release MANY things. https://www.patreon.com/c/PinkFluffeeStudios if you would like to have a peep, there's a lot of older (thanks for patience I am terrible at publishing) art that's not been seen elsewhere.

[bbubblerum]

Just leaving one of my pathfinder characters here...

[valoniaart]

Cosmos Dragon

[heyitsphoenixx]

what happened?

shop, kofi, commissions and more here <3

[comikbook]

mercy angst from last session

[whomstsnek]

Continuing my headcanons about the Krew's family and early childhoods, I present to you Gideon and his father, Nathaniel Cole (and yes, the spelling is intentional)

Just to restate, I know very little about their canon backstories as I'm only about halfway through the series still, so please keep that in mind as you read <3

I envision that Gideon grew up in a teeny tiny farming village, settled neatly in wide plains in the middle of nowhere. Think 1930s American manifest destiny, yknow? Max 200 people, and only 20-30 families at most.

Gideon's father, Nathaniel Cole, was poor for his entire life, and that was actually how he got involved with Gideon's mother; he sought out a powerful being, hoping that he would be granted all he desired. He had asked her for wealth, more than he could ever measure, and in typical genie fashion she twisted his words and granted him wealth in the form of love, giving him a son.

Personality-wise, I think Nathaniel was a very quiet man, hard working and stone faced. A classic "manly man" if you will. He tried his best to protect his small family and led by example. He encouraged Gideon to work hard for himself, hopeful of him going on to live a kinder life than his own. He was someone that Gideon looked up to greatly as a child, and not just because there were so few other people in his life; after escaping the clutches of the hobgoblins and meeting up with Kremy, he adopted his father's name as his own middle name

Nathaniel had already had trouble finding work, but now between caring for a child and his poor reputation after consorting with an efreeti, it was near impossible. He was lucky enough to find work on the ranch of a relatively wealthy family, the Connors, where Gideon spent his very early life and eventually ended up working himself when he was a little older.

The townsfolk largely held him at an arms length, afraid of what destruction he might cause between his genie heritage and his intrinsic fire. Like his father, he gained a poor reputation in the village that spread far outside the city limits after a railway was built adjacent to the town early in Gideon's youth, and that was how the hobgoblins caught wind of his existence; you all know how the rest of that story goes.