#this is sort of related to my wizard party i’m hosting but i’m trying to make a zine and i WILL NOT HAVE AI ART

[adhdandcomics]

do you even KNOW how hard it is to find cool wizards on google that aren’t ai these days. we are so fucked

[too-attached-to-fiction]

Choose To Be Better | d.m.

Masterlist here

Part 2 here

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Word count: 1888

Request: Would you write a Draco Malfoy imagine where the reader is an American pureblood transfer to Slytherin and so she butts heads with the racist Slytherins, Draco included but at a Christmas ministry event she and Draco end up spending time together and she realizes he isn't bad when he's alone so it starts a 'friendship' where they still bicker but it's not spiteful and during the 6th year she is there for him?

A/N: YES! I love writing draco and i love the arcs where the reader/OC saves him from becoming a part of the death eaters! This kind of ran away from me but I’m actually really glad it did. I think it’s because I tried to shove like a bunch of the books in but I’m very proud of it and I hope you enjoy it too! I didn’t really put the bickering part in because I wasn’t sure how to fit it all together but otherwise I think this is pretty good :) Thank you anon!

~~~

“Before we begin with the sorting, we have accepted a transfer student from Ilvermorny who is starting her third year here. Miss (L/N), if you would be so kind to step up to the sorting hat?”

You nodded, moving wordlessly to the stool and climbing up. You weren’t sure how Hogwarts houses related to Ilvermorny houses, but you assumed the systems were similar. Back in America, you had been in Pukwudgie, the house representing a wizard’s heart. 

Around you, you heard whispers arise from the tables of students. 

“A transfer student?” 

“Ilvermorny? I’ve never heard of it…” 

“What country?”

“America, I think…” 

The whispers were tuned out as a professor placed an old wizard’s hat on your head. 

“(Y/N) (L/N)... What an interesting student. You were in Pukwudgie, I hear.” 

“Yes.” 

“Fascinating… You’re bright, very bright. Now where shall I place you?” 

You’d listened to the sorting hat’s song at the beginning of the ceremony, but you weren’t sure where you’d fit. You wanted to help people, but you were determined to forge your own path, away from your family history.

“Your father was a Ravenclaw, yes? And yet, you want more than knowledge. You’re quite a mystery, my girl. Where do you want to go? There are pieces of you in every house.” 

“I thought you would be the one to sort me in the right place.” You retorted, and the hat chuckled. 

“Ooh, you’re feisty. Now listen, my dear, whatever you’ve been told about each house is reputation, not fact. I trust you’ll make better choices than most… you’d be better off in SLYTHERIN!” The hat shouted. Apart from a few stray cheers from the table, the rest of the hall merely clapped politely. 

Although you believed the sorting hat had put you in the right place, you certainly didn’t feel welcome in the dungeons of the castle. Most of your dorm mates were quiet around you, and in turn, you were quiet around them. You were a good student in all of your classes, and kept your head down to avoid any confrontation. 

And yet, you seemed to butt heads with one Draco Malfoy. 

It seemed that he never went anywhere without his two goons, and it wasn’t so bad until one day, he decided to go after you. 

“Look, it’s the little transfer. What, America didn’t like you, so you came here?” 

“My parents divorced.” You shot back. “I didn’t have a choice.” 

“What, your mum didn’t want you?” 

“Go away, Malfoy.” You rolled your eyes, turning back to your book. “I have no interest in people who bully others for their amusement.” 

When you returned home for the winter holidays, you had nothing to report. You managed to make a few friends outside of your house, but most of the Slytherin students remained cold to you, probably due to Malfoy’s influence. 

“There's a Ministry Christmas gala being hosted by the Minister at Malfoy Manor. You and your brother will be accompanying me tonight.” Your father told you. “Please remember your manners. While I may not agree with the Malfoy’s values, it’s better to be polite than be rude to the enemy.” 

~~~

This gala had to be one of the most boring events you attended. Still, you feigned interest as you spoke to the other adults around you. Most of them had a habit of talking down to you, but you merely smiled and continued on your way. 

You were on your way to get a glass of punch when Malfoy intercepted you. 

“(L/N), what is a mudblood like yourself doing here?” 

“I’m a half-blood, for your information.” You said coolly, trying to find ways around you to get out of the conversation. You kept your shoulders back, jutting up your chin. “Half American pureblood and half English pureblood. But I suppose only the English side matters to you.” You brushed past him, continuing to walk towards where you had been planning on going. 

Draco followed, suddenly intrigued. “Why would you be at an event like this? I thought only adults were allowed.” 

“You’re not the only one with a father in power.” You said, continuing forward. “Is there something you need, Malfoy, or are you planning on trying to instigate a fight for the rest of the evening?” 

“Would you like to get away from this boring party?” 

“Please, be my guest.” He held out his hand for you to take and you glanced at it. 

“I’m not kidnapping you, for Merlin’s sake.” 

“Just checking.” You smiled, taking his hand. 

A few minutes later, you wound up in one of the gardens, away from the bright lights of the party. The two of you sat down on a stone bench in the center, your hand not quite ready to leave his just yet. 

“Why did you take me out here?” You asked after a few moments of silence. “I thought you didn’t like me.” 

“Perhaps I’ve had a change of heart.” He replied quietly. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, after all.” 

“Why? Is it so hard to be yourself?” 

“I don’t know who I am. All I know is that I am a Malfoy, and I can only interact with the highest of blood purity.” 

“A halfblood isn’t the highest.” 

“You were invited. Not many get that honour.” Draco backpedaled, removing his hand from yours. 

“Do you want to be a Malfoy?” 

“Of course. How could you ask such a thing?” In an instant, his walls rose. You sighed in defeat.

“You don’t want to be a Malfoy, Draco.” You said clearly. “You’re only a son trying to please his bigoted father.”

“That’s not true.” He stood up, cheeks reddening. “My father will hear about-” 

“Hear about what? I’m sure you’re breaking his rules by talking to an American, and a halfblood, aren’t you?” You raised an eyebrow, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “We can’t be here long, then.” 

“If you don’t believe in the importance of blood purity, why are you here? Why did you choose to come with me?” 

You stood up, your (E/C) eyes searching for something in his grey ones. “Because I believe there’s good in you. You are not Lucius Malfoy. You are Draco Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy needs to learn how to make his own choices. If you let me, I can help you be your own person.” 

“I am my own person.” He said, but his words sounded unsure. 

“You just told me you don’t know who you are.” You matched his cold stare with ease. 

“I don’t need your help.” 

“If not me, who else will help you?” 

“Someone will.” 

“You don’t sound sure about that.” You raised your eyebrow again. “It’s our actions and choices that define us, not our family.”

~~~

A few days after Buckbeak had vanished from Hagrid’s hut, Draco came to talk to you in the common room. 

“I want to be better.” 

Instead of dropping your mouth open with shock, as Draco expected, you only smiled up at him. 

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.” 

For the duration of the summer holiday, you and Draco exchanged letters back and forth, In them, he wrote of his hesitation to participate in activities his father forced him in. The only solution you could possibly give him was to act the way he always acted. You needed more time to figure out how to help, given that his family was known as one of Voldemort’s higher accomplices. 

One day, towards the end of summer, you approached your father. Miraculously, your family had been growing closer and closer to the Weasleys and Harry Potter. 

“Dad?” You asked, knocking on the door to his study. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.” 

Your father swung open the door. “Now what could be so important that it needed to interrupt my work?” “It’s important.” 

Earlier in the summer, your father had told you about the Order of the Phoenix. Despite the fact that it was currently dormant, he and the other Order members believed that Voldemort’s return was inching closer and closer by the day. 

“Important how?” 

“I need you to help me help someone.” 

You quickly skimmed over the details, not mentioning Draco’s identity at all. “What should I do?” 

“You shouldn’t be concerning yourself over these matters, (Y/N), they’re very dangerous-” 

“Please.” 

“I’ll write Dumbledore, but don’t expect anything to come from it.” 

~~~

During your fifth year, you brought Draco to your house for the winter holiday. He’d mentioned he’d stay at school, but you insisted he be around people at Christmas. When you pulled Draco into your father’s study, your father’s eyes set quickly, darkening. 

“(Y/N), please explain what a Malfoy is doing in our house.” 

“He needs help, Dad.” 

Reluctantly, your father brought your family and Draco to Grimmauld Place for an appeal to the Order of the Phoenix. Tensions were raised on both sides, with only Dumbledore willing to hear Draco out. 

“Why him?” Sirius demanded. “Out of all people, why are we helping him?”

“We’re no better than the Death Eaters if we don’t hear him out.” Your glare quieted the other members. “Draco is not his father or his father’s choices. He doesn’t want to be a part of the Death Eaters, and we are not leaving this room until we find a way to help him.” 

“They’re children, what do they know about war?” Arthur Weasley objected. 

“They are children. But I trust my daughter, and her choices, even if it means trusting a Malfoy. And I trust Dumbledore, who has graciously agreed to come at once regarding my message.” Your father spoke up, and Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement. 

“They’re too young-” Molly started, but Snape cut her off. 

“But not incapable. The boy’s doing it for his family, no matter how much he tries to distance himself. We cannot remove him completely from the situation, but we can use this to our advantage. If the Malfoys are anything, they are misguided by their beliefs.” 

“Thank you, Severus.” Dumbledore finally turned to the two of you. “Draco, if you are alright working as a spy…” 

“If it means not working for him, then by all means.” Draco bowed his head. “When the time is right, I’m going to fight by your sides. Even if I’m killed in the process.”

None of the current Gryffindors were made aware of this decision, but the two Slytherins headed home, satisfied. 

The next two and a half years took a toll on you and Draco. You saw him less and less, and when you did, he seemed worse for wear. You were aware of his mark, and of his mission, but that didn’t make you any less determined to help him and get out of this war for good. 

You watched across the courtyard as Voldemort awkwardly hugged Draco. This was all part of the plan, and you’d come this far. You had to survive this. 

When the duel finished, he rushed over to your side. Both of his parents shot sad but knowing looks at his back. 

A year later, Narcissa would thank you for keeping her son safe. But now, in his arms, amidst the rubble… 

All you could think about was a long-deserved future with him. 

[mithrilwren]

Carillon

For @essek-week​ day 6: tower/possibilities. This was a VERY last minute fill, and it was an absolute miracle I got it done before the clock struck midnight, but woohoo, here we are! It’s mostly for ‘tower’, but I think it has shades of ‘possibilities’ as well.

[Also on Ao3!]

“I really do appreciate that you were willing to come all this way.”

“Yes, well,” Essek said, inclining his head slightly. “It isn’t so far to travel for people such as us, is it?”

The blonde-haired woman smiled serenely. Lady Allura Vysoren, member of the Arcana Pansophical, senior member of the Council of Tal’Dorei, a talented and accomplished wizard - all facts he’d committed carefully to memory the night before, after a series of hasty messages to his more worldly contacts. She ushered him from the teleportation circle through an oaken door, into a hallway of fine wooden supports and demure beige paint. “Have you been to Tal’Dorei before, Essek?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. My duties rarely take me outside my home country.” He gazed up at the high ceiling, wondering vaguely which government building she’d transported them to. He knew they were bound for Emon, but he hadn’t had time to collect any information about the layout of the city before Allura arrived to collect him.

“That’s a shame. I do love to travel, when I can.” Her pleasant niceties, far from putting Essek at ease, only amplified his confusion as to why he was chosen for this assignment. The role of ‘Shadowhand’ was exactly as unobtrusive as the name implied - he was no diplomat. His work was best done through intermediaries, if any social interaction was required at all. 

His work with the Mighty Nein was an aberration, but not wholly outside his purview: to gather information about illicit dealings within the Dynasty was quite within his usual set of duties, even if the method was… unusual. But he could not fathom why the Bright Queen would select him to play the role of ambassador, unless his seeming success with the Nein convinced her that he had some special pull with humans that other drow lacked.

Yet again, he found himself teetering on the knife’s edge of civility, trying to maintain his balance in an arena he did not understand. If he had little experience playing the host, he had less being the hosted, and he grasped one hand by the other in a vice grip behind his back as he floated after Allura, following her into a little parlor off the main corridor. She gestured to a chair, and he felt at once foolish to have taken the effort to resume his levitation spell, only to be forced to descend within a minute in order to sit.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Allura said as she walked to a little table and began pouring cups of tea from a delicate porcelain pot. Beside her, there was a glass door, partially ajar and seemingly leading to a balcony, but Essek could not see past the railing to guess any more about their location. Instead, Essek sank back into the armchair - plush, and upholstered with warm auburn velvetine that complemented the other splashes of autumnal colour within the room - and watched the light breeze from the balcony ripple within the blue folds of Allura’s dress as she finished pouring. 

A receiving chamber, perhaps, for foreign officials? It seemed pleasant enough for it, though nowhere near as grand as the Bright Queen’s throne room. Every so often a shout or cheer drifted up from the street below, also very unlike the reverent silence that he knew so well. Perhaps those things mattered less for a government ruled by a collection of individuals, rather than a sovereign. He had no frame of reference to compare it against.

After handing him a cup, Allura sank into an armchair across from him and took a small sip, just enough to wet her lips, before speaking again. “I hope it’s alright. I tend to drink a lot of tea in the afternoon, but if you prefer something else, I’m sure I can muster it up.”

“This is fine,” he said, and took a sip to prove it. And it was - a pleasant, earthy aroma, subtled by a splash of cream and what he assumed must be sugar. He’d never met anyone besides Jester who preferred sweetness in herbal drinks (or any drinks, in her case), but he had to admit that the flavours melded well. “But- you’ll forgive me, but I wasn’t given much information on the nature of this meeting. What was it you wanted to discuss?”

Matters of politics he had at least a good understanding of, a better one than how to act friendly and convince others to enjoy your company, and Essek was eager to shift to more familiar ground as soon as possible. While he doubted his social graces could net Allura’s esteem, at least he might be able to engage her mind in discussion, and then perhaps the worst of his awkwardness could be overlooked. 

And, for the most part, he believed he succeeded, in the ways that mattered. It turned out the Council of Tal’Dorei had simply wanted a check-in with the Dynasty after Allura’s involvement in the peace talks - a move which he now gathered was only loosely sanctioned by the council itself, though she had seemed quite confident when she arrived before the Bright Queen’s court all those months ago. She meant to shore up relations, and ensure that open communication would continue between their governments. 

He agreed to what he could, proposed options for further engagements, and all in all, performed adequately in his function, but hadn’t quite shaken the feeling he was missing some important detail in all of this - something that might explain why he, of all people, was the one taking part in this conversation. Allura was clearly a skilled diplomat, in addition to her arcane prowess. She projected an air of competence, tempered by a warm, inviting demeanor, but he did not doubt that her demeanor would change were they in her personal tower, rather than within the public eye. Wizards were not known for their hospitality, after all, and the ones he’d met outside himself always guarded their isolation jealously, quick to drop all illusions of civility once they were within a domain of their control. 

“Lady Allura,” he asked as she got up to refill their cups, unable to contain the pressing question any longer. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation today, and I think we’ve made good progress. But… if there is any skillset that I particularly may provide, please, do not hesitate to ask.” There. A way of proposing the question without betraying his own ignorance. The best he could do without surrendering ground in their back and forth. This was, after a negotiation, even if he couldn’t sense the parameters yet. One wizard did not call on another unless they desired something that the other could provide. Even Caleb primarily turned to Essek for help with spells or magic beyond his level, and they were friends - at least, they were.

(He pushed down any thoughts of dinner parties, or good conversation over wine, as the fancies of the past that they were. It was a bitter hope, to believe that there was a different sort of relationship they could have had, one not based on favours and needs. It did not serve him to dwell on it, when his own hand was what quashed that hope for good.)

Allura smiled, setting down the pot on the table. “Nothing of the sort. Truth be told, I actually asked for you personally.” Essek’s eyebrow raised.

“Really.” Though she made no threat, his hand itched towards his wrist, where his components were hidden. Weeks of warnings from Caleb and others in the Nein that an assassination attempt by the Cerberus Assembly might be coming, now that he had outlived his usefulness, had set him on edge. The thought of a powerful wizard with connections both in the Dynasty and the Empire asking to see him personally, and alone? It was worth every  bit of caution in the world.

“You sound surprised.”

“Diplomacy is not my accustomed role.”

“Nor is peacemaking mine, but we find ourselves in strange times.” Allura turned away, looking towards the window and the afternoon sky. “I confess, I still don’t understand the whole of the conflict on Wildemount’s shores. There are shades of grey to every war, and I don’t trust myself to recognize them with an outsider’s perspective. Which is why I asked the Mighty Nein who they would trust to speak to me honestly, and fairly.” She turned back to Essek. “They named you.”

A jolt went through Essek. “When?” he asked, shocked to hear the state of his own voice, strained as it was.

They’d barely spoken in the weeks since the end of the peace talks, other than the warnings about Ikithon and Jester’s occasional messages at inconvenient hours. He’d assumed any ties of trust he’d had with the Nein had been irrevocably broken. Despite any protestations in the Balleater’s hold, he had a hard time believing that No- Veth, or Beau, or even Fjord would count him as someone to be recommended. And yet-

“A few nights ago, when I asked them. I’m glad you were available on such short notice.”

“I as well,” he answered faintly.

And yet-

“Oh no.”

Essek’s head whipped up at Allura’s sudden change in tone to something akin to horror. 

“Is something the matter?”

He stood quickly and floated over to her, scanning the room for any sign of an intruder or threat, but instead he found her staring at a timepiece on the mantle, her eyes tracking the short hand with increasing distress. 

“She’s going to kill me.”

“Who?” Essek insisted, but she was already striding away from him towards the door. 

“How would you feel about a quick tour of the city?” Allura asked, her smile gone from welcoming to hurriedly apologetic in an instant. 

“...Alright.” Strange, but he couldn’t sense an immediate threat. He followed her out the door and into the same hallway, which soon led to a winding spiral staircase leading downwards into a depth of stone. 

“I’m very sorry for the abruptness,” she explained as she walked, “but I promised I would pick something up for someone, and I lost track of time. I’d like to send you off properly, but I also- I really did promise.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m in no rush.” If anything, he was curious to see a bit more of Emon than whatever government building they were in - though, he thought as they continued to descend, it was a strange construction for one. If anything, the layout of the staircase reminded him more of a-

In what seemed like an instant, they were outside, and Essek’s suspicions were immediately proved unfounded. The moment they stepped out onto the street, they were surrounded by bustle - crowded houses, children playing in the street, dogs begging scraps from a food stall down the way. No wizard’s tower would be built so close to the rest of society. They were built for privacy, secluded and elevated above the world. His own house was a half-formed imitation of what he had someday hoped to achieve for himself: gated and lofty, and lonesome.

He didn’t have time to reflect further, or even glance back, lest he lose Allura in the crowd as she hurried away at a breakneck speed.

In the end, he caught up to her on the outskirts of a market, where sellers were just beginning to put away their wares for the coming evening. Essek found Allura at one particular stall, clutching a package of something smelling distinctly briny and looking triumphant.

“Lionfish,” she explained. “They only sell it one day a week, because it’s so hard to keep fresh on its journey from the coast. It’s also my wife’s favourite dish. I would not have heard the end of it, if I’d forgotten.”

“Your wife?” Essek asked, his understanding of Allura shifting in great bounds, like so many shifting cogs whirring into a new configuration. Had he ever met a wizard who was in a partnership, let alone married? It had always seemed to him that a relationship of that kind could only take time away from his work: an unsound investment. Or at least that was a convincing argument, on the days that the loneliness felt like it would suffocate him from within. He almost wanted to ask how she managed it, ambition and love both, but held his tongue. 

“Kima,” Allura provided. “She’ll probably be home by the time we make it back. Maybe you’ll meet her.”

“I’d like that,” said Essek, and found he meant it, which was the most surprising thing of all.

Now that they weren’t in a rush, he was able to get more of a lay of the land. The city was a strange arrangement of highs and lows. It seemed that they were in the high portion, with many houses spread out on the plain below. 

“This is the Cloudtop District,” Allura explained as they walked. Essek had decided to forgo his usual hovering, as his drow appearance was already garnering enough stares from passersby. “It used to be home to the most wealthy citizens of the city, but nowadays there’s a mix of all sorts here.”

“What changed?”

“A horde of dragons razed the city to the ground.” Allura shrugged. “The social divide seemed rather immaterial to most people after that.” She pointed forward at one singular spire, rising above the rest of the mostly one-or-two level dwellings. “Luckily, there was enough space left for me to rebuild the Ivory Tower, and the city’s come up around it.”

Essek stared. It was certainly the direction they had come from, and that they were now headed to.

So it was her tower then, that they had been in. Her tower, that she called ‘home’, that she used to entertain guests, and shared with her wife, and occasionally left to buy fish from a market three streets down. 

“Does it ever feel... crowded?” Essek asked, his own skin already crawling at the proximity of the strangers around him. 

“Sometimes,” Allura admitted. “But I like being able to say hello to my neighbours. I hid my nose in books for so much of my life that it’s a welcome change, for it to be as easy to meet new people as to walk outside my door. It takes some of the work out of it for me.”

That was… not a way that Essek had considered the problem before. He had wondered when he was younger why so many of his peers fell into relationships - platonic or otherwise - without any seeming effort, while he could not fathom how to make a single friend. But he had been separate from the start - isolated because of his mother’s position, and his own talent. Were relationships truly as simple as being in the right vicinity to stumble into them?

He pondered that thought all the rest of the way back to the tower, and up an unfamiliar staircase. “I just want to stick this in the icebox,” Allura explained, “and then I promise, I’ll see you home properly.” He followed her through a new door and into a little kitchen with an adjoining dining room, separated by a half-wall and banister. 

The kitchen itself was fascinating. He got the sense of Allura as an organized individual, but most of the space was pure chaos. Mismatched mugs were haphazardly piled on top of bags of produce and sharp knives were stacked, uncovered, by the sink. Allura’s nose visibly wrinkled as she moved aside a few unopened boxes with her foot in order to open the icebox and shove the package inside.

“Who’s this?”

The new voice caught Essek off guard and he whirled, only to find the air empty at his eye level. He looked down, and found a halfling woman in improbably large plate armor staring up brazenly at him. 

“Essek Thelyss,” Allura supplied from behind him, standing up and dusting her hands off on her skirt. “A guest of mine, from Wildemount.”

The woman didn’t extend her hand, but she gave Essek a good once-over before nodding, apparently satisfied by his look that he wasn’t a threat. He tried not to take it as a snub as the woman shouldered past him to get to Allura.

“Did you remember to get the lionfish?”

“Of course, darling,” Allura said, glancing over the woman’s head at Essek with a look that clearly read I told you so. “I wouldn’t have forgotten.”

Kima, then, and the swift kiss she planted on the back of Allura’s palm confirmed it. “Great, I’ll get started then. Go finish up with your friend, dinner’s in forty.” With that, she was off, pulling pots and pans out with reckless abandon, and utterly unconcerned with either of their presences. It was clear now to Essek that this place was Kima’s, which explained the incongruity with Allura’s neat parlor. 

He thought of his own house, where half the rooms were empty for lack of things to fill them with. He had always wanted to live alone, had never questioned the idea that he would hate to share any part of his home with someone else. 

And yet-

He could understand the appeal now, of sharing a space. Of seeing another person’s marks left over the places they frequent - the dishes in the sink, the paintings on the wall - or to be greeted by a kiss on the doorstep, from someone listening for your footsteps eagerly. It wasn’t a possibility for him, but he thought... he could see it. Why someone would want that. 

Allura sent him back to Rosohna with a promise of future visits and cups of tea to come. By the time he arrived back at his house, it was nearly time to rest, but he headed to his laboratory, intending to check on one of his experiments before closing his eyes for the night. 

The walkways between the different segments of his home were dark, as always, but they gave a good view of the streets stretching beyond his own empty one. From here, he could clearly see the light of Caduceus’s tree, the one beacon in the darkness that surrounded them all, guarding a house too small for seven occupants, but somehow functional, with enough space for all. 

During the day, neighbouring drow still flocked like moths to the flame, walking by the house and trying to catch a glimpse of the strange goings-on inside. He’d never understood the purpose of the tree, when all it did was draw unnecessary attention to the group. He started to wonder now, if that was the goal all along.

His spire was not a tower, but it was removed, just the same. Meticulously organized, just as he liked it to be, but there were still traces of clay he hadn’t managed to scrub from the floorboards. Essek stood on the threshold and saw scattered images of the past: of Nott laying on the floor, of Caleb at the desk, of Jester hounding him for snacks from down the hall. 

They flickered out, one by one, leaving only Caleb, trapped in a scene not from his memory, but from his mind all the same. He watched Caleb stand from the desk and move to the table, beckoning Essek forward. 

“Did you find it?” the shadow Caleb asked, and Essek nodded, heart caught in his throat as he handed over the requested scroll. “Good. Then we can finish tonight.” Caleb leaned over and gave Essek a peck on the cheek, and his lips felt of fog, immaterial and crushing at the same time.

Then he blinked, and it was all gone. Caleb was nothing more than a memory again, and the only proof of his one-time presence were the stains of reddish dirt across the floor.

He stumbled off to his room, feeling unsettled, and deeply tired, with question after question flitting through his mind.

How far would his tower have to climb, so that he couldn’t see the light of that accursed tree from his window?

How long can he pretend that he wouldn’t rather be under that roof tonight, instead of his own?

[yfere]

Shipping Calculus! Live Updates from C2E62

Downtime (n): a word which here means “bust a drug ring and spy on war meetings,” with some home improvement on the side.

*wheezes* Anyway, we do math no matter how stressed we are, yes? A mathematician must never be daunted by mere….madness. Masterpost here.

+23 to Fjord/Jester Outside experts were necessary for this. On the one hand, Shipping Calculus Law states that you lose points for facilitating a relationship to another person….but if you do that while also clearly getting “heart eyes” for the whole affair? Those rules no longer apply. We have, here, Fjord’s Over The Top “I Am So Cool Pls Notice” at Jester referencing his bravery at rooming next to her, and mutual, uh, attempts to comfort that are Deflected By This Deflecting Pair! You Would Earn More Points For Not Deflecting! Oh no, Jester, are you worried about your mom I’m sure she’s oka—NAH, FJORD, HOW ARE YOU. Are you feeling uncomfortable latel—NAH, I’M FINE I’M HAVING ZERO ISSUES WITH THE WATER EXCEPT THAT IT’S IN MY EARS AND I CAN’T HEAR YOU. Lots and lots of banter, and Jester asking Fjord about whether this is his first home, and offering him a mural because she’s a sweetheart. Point loss because Fjord did not accept the mural invitation which makes Jester, deprived of this gesture of affection from her artistic soul, very sad. Also, Jester’s hair was gross and that’s a tragedy for all Jester ships this week.

+8 to Beau/Jester Speaking of gross hair. These two—still roomates! Beau looking for the Best Room, as always! And for some reason, they very much don’t mind in each other all the things that would make them awful roomates to everyone else? Jester happily deals with Beau’s horrific snoring (if they ever have to split, Beau and Cads need to room as the resident snorers), and Beau handles Jester’s Hair Fiasco with nary a complaint, only a surreptitious request for some incense from Caduceus. That’s love. Point loss for Beau complaining about Nugget’s drooling—you need to love pets to love Jester, and that is law

-30 to Jester/Pets. But pets….they may not love Jester. My darling….forcing your beaten and world weary weasel (a ground dweller) into a tree dwelling against its will, forgetting your weasel’s name….I mean, you would think that someone would have sat you down by now to talk about consent (and that you never call someone you love by another name).

+20 to Beau/Gaydar And she foooooooooooools Caleb into thinking it’s a faulty Straightdar that has her saying he and Nott have tension. Don’t worry, Caleb, Beau understands you a little too well. And as we all know, ejecting a man from your room is a Special Lesbian Power bequeathed from the gods.

+2 to Caleb/Fjord/Jester because Frumpkin also got to hang out and gape at Fjord’s tremendously awkward honeypot display at the apothecary. Those three made a stellar Team A to the two-team investigation, with Jester and Fjord distracting like champs while Frumpkin learned of the invisible guard! Also, +2 to Frumpkin/Detective Work!

+18 to Jester/Yasha for Jester’s incredibly thoughtful and sweet wildflower mural for Yasha, and Yasha’s equally sweet surprise and thankfulness. A perfect combination of the ancient and venerable practices of  Seduction Through Art and Seduction Through Flower Arrangements—Jester is on top of her game. Point loss for sticking even a lovingly drawn dick anywhere in Yasha’s vicinity, that should be illegal

+2 to Beau/Yasha for partnering up to go to the library, yeah! A training pit, which is Ripe for Physical Contact Opportunities! Yasha being inspired by Beau’s bracers to get a set of her own, and you know how wlw love sharing clothing? I’m just saying.

+15 to Caleb/Caduceus A bit of an understated week, in the absence of Intense Conversation, but with a lot going on. Beginning, of course, with Caduceus making Caleb’s Special Gift the Literal Symbol of him “putting down roots” and spending a full week making it the centerpiece of the Xhorhaus and such an ostentatious landmark no one in the city will ever forget it. Caleb helps out with construction of the garden using cat-shaped spellwork,  and also invites everyone he meets to Come To the Krynn’s First Treehouse the man is proud. Frumpkin, too, climbing the tree, and it’s only a matter of time before Caleb does the same. Speaking of, Caleb once more pulling the “O, Large and Attractive Man, Please Shield Me From the Haters” card in a Cramped Alley, which Caduceus himself sort of initiated by aggressively campaigning for Frumpkin Spying. Nott gets +5 to Cockblocking for pulling Caduceus away to Detect Magic. Caduceus making windchimes to help make feel Caleb safe—though Caleb is sadly dismissive at the time No point gain for Caduceus’ very sweet and genuine and incredibly unsuccessful attempt to prevent the wizard from choking to death on his grand plans. Point loss for Caleb preferring to use residuum to craft a protective ring, possibly over trying to fix the sword that Caduceus is fixated on. Can Caleb’s Sword make him forget about it?

+30 to the M9/Winning the Local Dick Measuring Contest. You take a tower, you add a 60 foot tree as an elaborate penis metaphor, spread your seed all over the rooftop garden, and put permanent daylight in a region that is permanently dark and worships the Light. All right. Okay.

+20 to Caleb/Essik oh gods, and now we have evidence that a cleaned up fashionable Caleb is perhaps also a little bit catnip for the NPCs. Caleb’s silver tongue and flirtatious finger-wiggling with his special Cat Spell? Bowing and opening the door with magic like A Flirt? The favor exchange convo which is how Every Male Character Woos Caleb Apparently? Essik, for his part, giving up his schedule for the moment, strutting his stuff with his fancy spellbook and chuckling and asking for Caleb’s permission and no one else’s to enter the home???? These boys move faaaaast. We’ll see how this develops with time. Also, between the spellwork Giving Caleb Game and Frumpkin detectiving, +50 to Caleb/Cat-Shaped Creatures, +30 to Caleb/Plot Relevant Magic Gott-damn

+35 to Fjord/Caleb So here in Shipping Calculus, Intense Conversations earn lots of points and uh, there was so much steam from this one it got sound effects. Clasping of hands, promises, declarations, in a callback to Every Major Widofjord Moment Ever. Not to mention, the ambushing-in-the-room maneuver straight (?) out of a romance novel. Caleb taking a gentle pry bar to the locked door of Fjord’s past and insecurities, as all Fjord shippers ultimately hope to see revealed on screen. The mention of Mighty Nein being family? Admiration and resentment? We can remake ourselves into something better? Admitting to worrying about everyone? Saying Caleb is not crazy (but he may be, crazy for someone?) Point loss for Fjord not…..getting the caring thing up until the end, probably. Oh dear. Oh my.

+55 to The Cast/Ashley Johnson. Yasha never fucking says anything, but Sam and Liam both love Ashley. Laura wants everyone to fuck off except Ashley, she’s an angel and we’re glad she’s here.

-100 to Caleb/Astrid/Eodwulf as Caleb says at one point Astrid was “The One” for him. But Caleb. Why could it not have been “The Two?” Throw me us a bone here.

+1000 to Nott/Yeza KISS! THEY KISS! And Nott goes on about not needing to kiss for some things. Spending time in the hot tub together, and in the Lab together (thanks, Caleb!) and being Dangerous Together. Yeza offering to be a house husband and clean up the place while they adventure! Nott being too protective of Yeza to send him without protection to the Coast or the Empire!

+14 to Caleb/Jester as Caleb aims the full force of his Worrywart self at Jester’s direction over the Astrid letter—all Jester ships gain points for distress over Marion Lavorre, as it should be. Jester alongside Nott immediately and frantically insisting that nothing letter-related is Caleb’s fault at all, but hey it’s not Jester’s fault either, it was Nott who told her what to write and she didn’t know anyyything. The suggestion for “The Salty Sea” that Jester and Caleb (and Fjord, hello +1 to Caleb/Fjord/Jester) are tied up with becoming the unlocking mechanism for a secret entrance to Caleb’s library. Jester unfortunately funnels many points into +20 to Jester/Foot in Mouth as she makes sad Astrid conversation but more importantly the horrific “you’ll always be an assassin to me” flirt. Jester. Jester no. Jester you know how he feels about his past right. Jester?

+3 to Beau/Hosting which was great until the cocktail racism, damn that’s a lot of point loss

+70 to Nott the Best Detective Agency/Detective Work as they uncover evidence of a SUUDE OPERATION and listen in on KING DWENDAL’S WAR PLANS. Interpretation of evidence once more provided by partner Beau and Lab Guy Caleb, who between their history and arcana checks and shady histories shed light on the puzzle before them.

-15 to Fjord/Charming the Neighbors. Caduceus is unfortunately too busy with home renovations to be his sweet Lets Bake For The Neighbors self, so Fjord ventures outside and proves why there need to be three high CHA people in this party. Because while Fjord can swing a honeypot in a crisis and intimidate like no one’s business, his inclination to dress people down and match insult for insult makes things go pretty sour with Bylan pretty quickly. The obvious solution, considering Fjord’s skill set, is to redress the issue by undressing the man.

+100000000000000000000000000000000000 to CR/Naming It The Xhorhaus because it got a SONG!!!!!!!!!

[coruscorp-blog]

DEAR, MR/MS. ( WALLACE GOTHEL )

We are pleased to have you back for another year as a SECOND UPPER YEAR STUDENT at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We sincerely hope your classmates in HUFFLEPUFF treat you well.

ACT ONE.

T H E   G O T H E L   E S T A T E,   G E R M A N Y

YOUNG MISS KLEIN : He’s quite charming for a son of werewolves. It’s just…his laugh. Isn’t it the slightest bit unbecoming?

MRS. KLEIN: Darling, he’s the sole heir to his aunt’s fortune. And you won’t approach him over a laugh?

[ The birthday boy’s laughter is a high-pitched, giddy giggle ringing somewhere between total madness and slight delirium. Miss Klein’s eyes follow the obnoxious sound to its owner, sitting at the grand piano and shivering like an excited child. Friends who met him at other socialite events told her he was a graceful, poised boy who could charm a Veela. It’s a shame, really. She’d been excited upon arrival, especially after ogling his prim and proper portrait hanging in the foyer. Instead, her expectations are dashed by a fool that cackles like an Erkling. ]

MRS. KLEIN (hissing): Look sharp, Darling! There’s his uncle!

[ Mrs. Klein hitches up her skirt and leans, in a way she thinks is seductive but merely looks like she’s drunk, against a wall adorned in classical paintings. It is likely she has poisoned both of her past husbands. ]

MRS. KLEIN: Oh, Franz! You know, my daughter was just swooning over your nephew’s laugh. I’m sure he’s broken a dozen hearts with that charm.

UNCLE FRANZ (sighing) : And he’d probably have a dozen heirs all over Germany if I didn’t keep an eye on him.

[ Another loud, squealing laugh from the birthday boy echos across the room. Franz Gothel once hoped that the swift kick of adolescence would help his nephew grow out of it. But now that the boy is fourteen, hope of that obnoxious sound mellowing out is fleeting. Every few moments, the party-goers have their quiet conversations interrupted with Wally’s irritating giggling.

In a burst of youthful energy, the boy jumps onto the grand piano, cups his hands around his mouth, and raises his voice over the party.  ]

WALLY GOTHEL: Ladies, gentleman, and gentlefolk, I’d like to thank you all for keeping my birthday party free of mercury poisoning and identity theft. But, don’t think for a minute that means we’ll be without excitement. I recognize that you’ll need some form of entertainment, so I’ve composed something special for your enjoyment. Allow me to finish warming up, then delight your ears!

[ He jumps off with all the youthful, animated energy he’d jumped on with and begins a series of wrist stretches. ]

UNCLE FRANZ : You’ll have to pardon his excitement today. He tends to go wild on his birthday.  

YOUNG MISS KLEIN : Oh yes, he’s over the moon.

UNCLE FRANZ : For all his faults, at least he’s an extraordinary worker. He’s been preparing all year for this, writing and re-writing like mad.

MRS. KLEIN (shoving her daughter in the direction of the piano): How touching! And my, what a great work ethic he has! Sweetheart, you should go talk to him while he’s still warming up. My dear friend Franz and I have lots of catching up to do!

[ Miss Klein reluctantly approaches the boy at the piano and clears her throat. To her surprise, his personality tightens up and he stands to properly greet her. ]

YOUNG MISS KLEIN : Darling Klein, it’s a pleasure.

WALLY GOTHEL : A pleasure, it is! Wallace Gothel – with a T-H-E-L at the end spelling. It hasn’t been spelled Goethel or Goethe for a few centuries now. Curious how that happens. (he gently takes her hand)May I?

[ Miss Klein nods. He kneels and plants a soft, chaste kiss on her hand. For the upper class, pureblood wizarding families in Germany, it would seem many of them are stuck with mannerisms and customs a few centuries out of date. By why adapt when they hardly socialized with anyone but each other? Wally looks up and smiles. ]

WALLY GOTHEL : May I?

YOUNG MISS KLEIN (holding back a smile) : If you insist.

[ He kisses her wrist. ]

WALLY GOTHEL: May I?

YOUNG MISS KLEIN (delighted) : Yes!

[ They continue this back-and-forth game until he’s kissed all the way up her arm and their faces hover within millimeters of each other. ]

WALLY GOTHEL: Well, that was lovely. Thanks.

[ He sits back down. ]

YOUNG MISS KLEIN : Not to be forward, but considering we’re both homeschooled by the same private tutors…we could arrange to take classes together?

WALLY GOTHEL: I’m afraid not, but I will always look back fondly on our time here together.

YOUNG MISS KLEIN  : But why? I’d love to see what a…Metamorphmagus can do…in person.

WALLY GOTHEL : I’m moving. A composer needs to constantly expand their horizons and while it’s fun being here, I think it’s made my music gone stale. Now if you’d excuse me, I would like to play this goodbye song for my guests.

ACT TWO.

H O G W A R T S    C A S T L E,   E N G L A N D

THE SORTING HAT: There is no greater host than a HUFFLEPUFF!

[ The Sorting Hat takes less than a second to sort Wally into Hufflepuff. The boy’s attempts at being modest are comedic for anyone born without a silver spoon, but his intent is there. He never denies someone an invitation to his parties, whether popular or a social outcast, and goes out of his way to show hospitality. He makes a wonderful – albeit, frivolous and dramatic – addition to the house best known for their acceptance of everyone.

Everyone except for two people. Two people that have never received a handwritten invitation to anything. Two people that still fight a messy custody battle with the Ministry over him. Two people that make his boggart a wolf with teeth stained bright red.

The Hufflepuff can accept anyone but his parents.

He feels guilt when a Ministry worker asks what he wants and he tells them he wants to stay with Uncle Franz. Even if his uncle can be a stuffy fellow ( exasperated cries of “Not in the house!” whenever he altered his appearance in front of the mirror come to mind ) he raised him. Why would he want to be ripped away from that and stay with two people he doesn’t remember – two people that the Ministry themselves claims are very dangerous. He doesn’t want to see them, know them, or have his little Hufflepuff heart betray him with sympathy.

He’d sooner fall victim to one of the Avelon family’s poisoning plots than be around werewolves. He’s sure they’re very nice people, but he wants nothing to do with them. And his fear makes the Ministry’s job much easier.

He’ll struggle through Care of Magical Creatures class, wake up in cold sweat every full moon, and finally breathe a sigh of relief when he’s a legal adult. Only, the guilt weighing down his chest never lessens. He distracts himself in front of mirrors and audiences alike, and overcompensates by being one of the friendliest faces at Hogwarts. But, would his adoring friends and fans think differently of him if they knew the truth? He keeps his personal life under wraps and only a few, select people know that he’s related to werewolves at all.

All because he believes that his housemates would think he’s two-faced, more suited to a green scarf than the bright yellow he proudly wraps around his neck. ]

ACT THREE.

H O G W A R T S    C A S T L E,   E N G L A N D P R E S E N T   D A Y

[ The Sorting Hat is right about there being no better host than a Hufflepuff. The President of the official Hogwarts Host Club – which passed guidelines to be a club with a shoddy claim it educates students about pureblood traditions – is none other than Wally. He sits in front of a group of nervous, wannabe hosts trying out for a position in the club. However, his mind is elsewhere.

He’s graduating in a few years and doubts on what he’ll do once his formal education is complete. Hogwarts certainly exposed him to a variety of people, but also to career options he never thought of. One professor even told him that by being a Metamorphmagus, he’d have no trouble with the Concealment and Disguise during Auror training. Is he making a mistake by wanting to be surrounded with safety and familiarity, as he always does? Should someone with his ability be content to just play music? ]

HOST CLUB TRY-OUT #1 : How did I do? Did I, um, pass the Wooing and Flirtatiousness part of the test?

WALLY GOTHEL : Wh–Oh, I certainly did feel wooed even if your flirting could use some polishing. I’ll see you for host training on Monday!

[ It’s okay for him to be brooding today, he supposes. It’s not like he plans on turning anyone down. He has a reputation to keep up as one of the most friendliest, most accepting Hufflepuffs in Hogwarts after all. ]

[myfellowcandlesticks]

Halloween at the Castle

Lumiere never really stopped believing in ghosts and spirits.

When he was a boy, huddled up under his winter blankets and flannels, he would listen to his governess’s shaky voice relate tale after tale of monsters and ghouls. And little Lumiere would pull the covers up under his nose and hide, even as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He loved those stories, enjoyed the thrill they gave him, the goosebumps that bloomed on his forearms, the shivers that rippled down his spine.

So naturally, on a sleepless night before the curse was broken, when Cogsworth had told them about a special scary holiday near the autumn equinox, Lumiere had pricked up his – metaphorical – ears.

“Back in England we call it the Day of the Dead,” Cogsworth said gravely, “On the very last night of October, it is said that graveyards empty of their eternal residents and the dead walk this Earth.”

At the time, it had been just another story to chase away the shadows of a cursed existed. But now that the curse had been lifted, Lumiere gave it a bit more thought. And brilliant ideas starting sprouting in his mind, bubbling like a witch’s cauldron until eventually – inevitably – they spilled out of his head. And he wanted Plumette to be the first to witness them.

“Mon amour, how much longer must I wait?” Plumette asked, impatience seeping from her voice.

“One more minute, mon trésor,” Lumiere cooed, trying to buy himself time.

Plumette sighed and tapped her tiny foot on the corridor’s immaculate floor. Standing with her back to the ballroom’s open doors, she waited, covering her eyes, as Lumiere ran around making last minute arrangements. He wanted it to be perfect when she finally saw it. His surprise.

“Voilà!” he finally exclaimed, satisfied with his work, “You can look now!”

Plumette swirled on her feet, her dark chiffon dress flowing around her, and gasped at the sight that greeted her.

The ballroom was an ode to autumn: orange, yellow and black flowers hung from the walls and ceiling, entwining with the chandeliers, and sunlight trickled through them, painting the floor in shades of burgundy and maroon. Dry leaves were scattered across the room, as if they had been plucked from their trees by a mischievous October breeze and had fallen onto the ballroom floor.

But there was more…

Plumette squinted at Cadenza’s harpsichord, pushed against a wall at the far end of the room. Something seemed to be… clinging to it. Spiders. And spider webs. And above the harpsichord hung some sort of wreath, made out of twigs and leaves and bits and pieces of forest wood. All around the ballroom was a pattern of paper bats, seemingly poised in mid-air, wings long and delicately arched.

Lumiere stood in the center of it all, grinning, arms splayed. He was wearing his usual golds and yellows, but instead of an embroidered overcoat, he was wearing a long black cloak. And a pointed wizard’s hat.

Plumette covered her mouth with her fingers, giggling softly. Lumiere smiled even wider. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I think it is absolutely fantastique!” she said, walking into the ballroom, eyes aglow. “Will there be a party?”

“Yes,” Lumiere proudly announced, “there will indeed be a party. I convinced the Master it would be worth it – if only for the children.”

Plumette twirled around and grinned in delight. She stopped when she nearly collided with Lumiere, and slipped her arms around his waist. “You are a genius!”

“Perhaps, mon amour,” he leaned in, placing a small peck on her lips and pulling her closer, “But I am nothing without you,” another peck, “you inspire me,” a heated kiss, “you are my muse,” she kissed him back, “you unleash my passion –”

“I do hope I am not interrupting,” Cogsworth cleared his throat.

Lumiere and Plumette – both already flushed and almost panting – half-turned towards the ballroom doors, where their friend stood glaring at them.  

“Not at all, mon ami,” Lumiere said happily, “you can stay if you wish. But the party won’t start until tomorrow night, I must warn you.’

“About the party,” Cogsworth crossed his arms and took a few slow steps into the ballroom. His eyes scanned the walls, the decorations, the tiny paper bats. He scowled.

“Please, Cogsworth,” Plumette pleaded, “Do not make this difficult. The Master has agreed.”

“Yes, it’s true,” Lumiere chimed in, “And I promise I will personally supervise the cleaning after the party.”

Cogsworth froze. “You said that last time,” he squinted.

“This time I mean it,” Lumiere tried to look sorry.

Cogsworth resumed his slow walk across the ballroom floor. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “This will simply not do.”

“Oh, come on Cogsworth,” Lumiere pouted.

“No… No Lumiere, I’m sorry, but there will be no party this way.”

Lumiere’s shoulders sagged and he opened his mouth to protest – but Cogsworth lifted a hand to stop him before he could speak.

“There will be no party,” he continued, “unless we do it the proper way.”

Lumiere gave his old friend a knowing half-smile. “Oh. And what would the proper way be?”

“Leave it to me,” Cogsworth placed his palm on his chest and bowed slightly. “The Day of the Dead – or All Hallow’s Eve – was, after all, my idea.”

Plumette giggled. “If I didn’t know better, Cogsworth, I’d say you were jealous of Lumiere’s skills as a party host.”

“Nonesense,” Cogsworth said, “I simply don’t want him going around doing things the wrong way.”

The couple laughed, and even Cogsworth dared a smile. “I promise you we will have a merry Day of the Dead, just like the ones you had back in England,” Lumiere offered.

“Oh no,” Cogsworth shook his head, “Not merry, no. A scary, terrifying All Hallow’s Eve; that’s what I want.”

[dnd-inspiration]

If you’ve sent me an ask within 30 days… it's here!

If yours isn’t here, send it again!  I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you guys. It’s been a few crazy weeks, I’m generally a lazy person, and having more than 5 asks stresses me out so I avoid my inbox. So lets get to it!

@leonmashedpotatoes Hello there, I'm going to be running a 3.5 shackled city campaign and I'm excited about the campaign, but I'm nervous because my homebrew campaigns have been making me super overwhelmed and I don't end up having any fun playing and the session just ends anticlimactically. How can I keep myself from getting overwhelmed? I figured it'd be easier since I'm using a module but I'm still nervous that I won't end up having fun PLeS HalP

It depends! Why does it overwhelm you? Are you organized enough? Do your players ask you stupid questions that you didn’t think you had to prepare for? Get good at predicting those dumb questions, or get good at improv. Are they doing things you don’t want them to do, like going north when they should go south? Just change the stuff happening in the south to the north. Or block off the path. I’d also recommend taking a 5 - 10 min break. Get up, stretch, get some snacks, etc. AS for anticlimactic session ends, try to plan for a good stop or stop playing too long. Sometimes sessions I’m in go so long we basically end when someone falls asleep.

@meme-regime

Hi, gonna DM a campaign that revolves around 2 countries at war. The campaign will eventually build up to each country having a superweapon, but the players only know about the enemy's. They are sent to stop it and while gone the allied country's goes off accidentally. My question is, how should i get my players invested in the story and really care about and join one side, rather than just do mercenary work? Its a war over land, so neither side is necessarily in the right, morally. Thanks!

Ask them to come up with detailed backstories about where they’re from, any friends, etc. Put those NPCs in the town in the region you want. Maybe one side pays well, maybe one side is filled with [x “evil” race]. Have them meet NPCs that they themselves care about their land. You can’t really force anyone to care about anything. I always stressed myself out when I cared if they did, so I stopped caring. And weirdly enough they started!

@ anon

I want to start dm'ing a campaign. Any advice for someone who's never dm'd before?

Just read up on the rules, find a module you want to try, read through it, and relax!

@ anon

I need to create a D&D character for a group me and my friends are starting. How do I go about it?

I use the app “5th edition Character Sheet” and I love it. If you pay 1 dollar you get to level up easy. There are guides online to help you out. Reading the player's handbook also helps! Make sure you and your buds know what level you’re starting at, and if you’re doing point buy or rolling your stats.

@sevenawkwarddays

So, I just recently started DMing and my group really seems to enjoy inns and enjoys roleplaying visiting one. I'm running out of gimmicks and fun quirks to give them and was wondering if you have any advice or suggestions?

Watch/read/listen to media related to that and take inspiration from there. Look up historical inns, look up local bed and breakfast joints, etc. There are some cool podcasts about history, myths, etc.

@irl-yuya

I'm writing a campaign for my friends (in which I will be both DMing and playing a character) should I get ideas, just knowing my friends' classes and see what happens or wait until they've finished character building? (We're using fan made classes. Dancer, Death Weapon (based on the show Soul Eater) and Dragon Slayer Wizard (based on Fairy Tail.)

Its your campaign, you should make it no matter what they want to play. Their races and classes shouldn’t matter too much. I’m in the middle of writing a campaign where Drow are despised, much more than normal, and driven out of towns. I’d gently suggest my players not play Drow, but hey if they want I won’t stop them. They just need to know what they’re getting into. I’m not about to change my entire campaign just because they want to play Drow but not be treated unfairly.

@ anon

Im setting up a Lamia lair in an old desert ruin, and so far i have a Lamia, jackalweres, manticores, and slaves occupying it. I have a maze, main lair, and slave cages planned, but i want it to be bigger. Any ideas???

Honestly I have no idea what Lamia is and google didn’t help… so here are some maybe not so helpful suggestions.

Room of pots, some overflowing with rubies. When you dig for more, its sand. If one breaks, endless sand pours out.

A giant room with pillars, and a single set of stairs that almost goes up to the ceiling.

A room dedicated to giving gifts to gods. You probably shouldn’t take anything. Should leave something instead.

Giant crocs who can be appeased with hearts

@ anon

So, in my campaign, almost all the PCs have a dead sibling, so I try to emphasize familial bonds in the story. Would having the BBEG's goal to bring back their own dead sibling be keeping to the motif or just lazy writing? Any suggestions for alternatives or ways to make that more interesting?

Whats bad about bringing your sibling back? Obviously raising the dead is a bit iffy but if I was one of your players I wouldn’t hunt him down for doing that. Maybe his sibling is bigger, badder, and generally better at doing evil stuff.

@didthething

My players are wandering through a mountainous region, with occasional Kobold tribes interspersed. They are searching for an old tower surrounded by a thick, cloying fog. What might they run into while they are wandering about?

I don’t have a monster manual, but I’d look into that to help you out! Rocs could be funny, since they sound like “rocks”. Bullets? Birds, goats, other typical animals you’d find on a mountain. Maybe some mountain monks or something.

@candalable

I think this is totally doable for your first game. Neat idea! I think your plot is fine, I don’t have any points. Since this is set in one place, make this places VERY detailed. Names, ages, jobs of all npcs they come across, town export and import, etc. Not sure about puzzles since everything sets back to normal tbh.

@anon

I'm DMing a session and my players are in a campaign where they're in a magical rubix cube dungeon that rotates and opens paths to new rooms when they interact with certain parts of the room they're in. I'm trying to design each room to be unique in both it's layout and what kind of challenge they'll have to go through, and i've already got three rooms planned out, but i'm running dry on cool ideas for puzzles, traps, or fun battles for them to stumble into. There are 5 players if it helps.

@anon

Could read through my blog and see if you can apply/tweak any to a room. Look up popular brain teasers and puzzles, twist them to a dnd setting. A room with a long staircase, halfway up you notice a really tall being just staring at you. Narrow bridge to get to the other side, but its cut. You can climb down the ladder into darkness. The other side seems slanted enough you can climb up.

@literal-trash-heap

In an adventure I'm writing, I need a monster that could make ships mysteriously vanish, but still be suitable for first level players. I was thinking maybe something to do with ghosts and the ethereal plane, but any suggestions would be terrific!

Low HP powerful monster that actually only makes ship invisible and sets them off course? Otherwise your suggestion sounds great.

@anon

In the party I have, everyone seems to be focused on only the task ahead and they aren't finding creative ways to overcome challenges. How can I change this and slyly force them into some RP and world exploration?

You can’t make them play how you want them to. If you want them to get into room A, and the door is locked and you don't want them busting it down but finding the key… make it impossible to break down. Thats as far as you can force their hand though. Maybe they like the straight path? You can introduce some NPCs  that want to show them the world, or need an escort.

@anon

Several sessions ago the party I have been DMing helped an Armorer and a Weaponsmith get together. Now, they've been invited to their wedding. It looks like the party wants to go so I want to spice it up a bit. I'm thinking some sort of monster should attack mid vows but I'm not sure what would be good. The wedding will take place in a city set on the side of a mountain, and the players should be about level five by the time they get there. But I have no idea what the monster should be

@anon

Look in the monster manual? Maybe there is a crazed ex lover that wants revenge. Maybe some giant birds want the bird seed, or see shiny objects in the wedding like the rings or decorations.

@anon

im dming for my four friends, but two of them chose to be bards, and the other two are a cleric and a wizard. should i like, force some of them to change roles or is there someway for me to change monsters and enemies so they dont get completely junked

I’d tell everyone everyone’s class, see if they’re okay with that, and treat them like any normal party. I treat my normal parties like they CAN die… but if they’re nice and don’t do stupid stuff, they only almost die. I don’t force my players but if you’re cool with that and so are they, go for it I guess.

@cometgrace

I have a question, if you don't mind. I'm really interested in playing d&d but I have no friends who would be interested so I'm looking to play it online. The problem is, I have absolutely no experience with the game and I know pretty much nothing. What's a good way a get started and figure out the game? or a good way to just learn the ropes?

Read up the players handbook and go online! Roll20.net is something people use. You can also find game shops in your town that host [free] dnd nights with tables for you to use! For free! Most people are patient. Just be up front that that you’re new and do your best to play along.

@gxjira

i have an idea for a campaign and several little details for it but for some reason i cant connect them? so far i have a tiny town full of completely regular people, a well with weird powers, the lunar eclipse and a bad time

Sorry but there isn’t nearly enough information for me to help you out!

@synodicstudying

I have a new DND session this weekend and I'm dusting off one of my old character ideas- a wood elf druid with a chronically ill wife and a 10 year old stepson, driven by trying to find the cure for her wife. She's definitely a motherly figure, with an emphasis on healing and shapeshifting abilities who I mean to make into the glue of the party, but I just got the setting. We're in the Arctic. Any ideas on how to adapt her to fit?

I love your idea so much!  Why not have her travel from your beautiful home continent? The arctic supposedly has the oldest seed in the world, frozen in time. And its one of the things you need for your wife!

@anon

So my players have unknowingly contacted the first arcs Big Bad and asked them for work. The Big Bad has been scrying on them and is slowly recognizing them as a threat, not just an annoyance. He's in a really good position to get rid of them without losing his sterling reputation. Any suggestions on how he could do this without tipping his hand that he's a villain to the party until it's too late?

Having them do tasks that kind of fuck up the town, or powerful people only. Tasks like taking a package from the Yarl to X address, instead of Y making it look like you stole it.

[ratmonologue]

ANSWER ALL THE HOGWARTS QUESTIONS!!! FEEL MY PAIN!!! (no I'm just kidding it was actually really fun to answer all of them I recommend it)

CHALLENGE SO FUCKING ACCEPTED thank you kayla for enabling my nocturnalness

1. What house will you be in? SLYTHERIN

2. If the sorting hat was on you and it said you’d be great in a house you didn’t consider before, will you follow his advice or choose what house you want? I mean I think my ambition to be a Slytherin kinda automatically makes me a Slytherin… If the hat insisted on Ravenclaw that’d be okay, I have a lot of Ravenclaw traits. If it said Gryffindor or Hufflepuff… lmao no.

3. What kind of animal would you bring to school? I’m very much a cat person so probably a cat, but I remember one of the books mentioned ravens in the magical pet store? And a pet raven would be SUPER cool. I’d teach it to talk and stuff. Also the #aesthetic. Yeah, raven.

4. If you were in class, where would you normally sit? Near the front

5. What do you think you’ll be doing right now? 5am on a Saturday. Ideally I’d be either asleep or at some wizard party; realistically I’d be up late reading or something.

6. What’s the core of your wand? I think Pottermore said unicorn hair, but Pottermore also said I wasn’t slytherin so I’m not sure how much I trust them

7. Do you think you’ll be part of the quidditch team? No I’m not athletic enough

8. Will you be part of any organization??? HECK YES student orgs are the best, seriously what else do people do with their time

9. Will you go home during holidays? Fuck no

10. Do you think you’ll have friends from other houses? Seeing as how about 80% of my current friends are hufflepuffs and ravenclaws, definitely

11. What will you pack for school? The necessities, like clothes, books, pet raven, etc

12. How about when going home for holidays, what will you bring home? There is no way I would go home for the holidays when I could have Christmas at HOGWARTS in SCOTLAND like come on

13. Would you consider studying in another wizarding school? The above being said, I’m all for studying abroad so I’d love to do a year at Durmstrang or something

14. Do you think you’ll be a prefect or head girl/boy? God I hope not

15. Are you going to be a pure-blood or half-blood or muggle-born? My parents and sister all could not care less about Harry Potter so I guess that makes me a muggle-born

16. Will you be related to any wizarding family? Only by marriage, and even then Sirius and his family have kinda disowned each other, so no

17. Will you be a student who gets into trouble a lot? We all know I’d get written up by Filch for climbing the whomping willow

18. Do you think you’ll get a lot of detention? For what reason/s? The occasional lateness or talking-in-class detention, probably

19. On hogsmeade visits, what shops will you go to? Honeydukes of course, I don’t even remember what else is there tbh but I’d visit all of them (except that nauseatingly cutesy tea place). Honestly I’d probably just hang out in the Three Broomsticks or the Hog’s Head because chilling in pubs with friends is kind of the best thing ever?

20. Will you be supportive of your house’s quidditch team? Not rabidly so, but sure

21. Will you read Hogwarts: A History? I’ll read the interesting bits

22. Do you think you’ll get a lot of letters from home? How frequent do you think you’ll get them? Probably every couple of weeks or so, because my mom likes to keep in touch too often

23. Will you subscribe to the daily prophet or the quibbler or other wizarding world media? Of course

24. Which part of the castle will be your favorite? The astronomy tower

25. When sleeping in your dormitory, will your four-poster bed’s curtains be drawn or closed? I’m pretty sure drawn does mean closed in the case of curtains, so both

26. If the team your house played against wins, do you think you’ll be bitter towards the other team after the game?��Nah

27. Do you think you’ll be a fan of wizard music? Not sure but I’d definitely give it a listen

28. Will you be curious enough to try and explore the whole castle, even if you know you can get in trouble for visiting some parts of it? Um of course

29. How frequent will your visits to the library be? Since Hogwarts doesn’t have internet, probably pretty frequent

30. If someone was to form an organization similar to dumbledore’s army, will you join? Absolutely

31. If you were to get detention, what task would you prefer? Would you want to scrub cauldrons or clean trophies or sort through unlabeled books or…? Sorting through books is honestly really fun to me

32. On your o.w.l.s, what subject/s will you get an O in? Which ones do you think you’ll get a T on? (I had to look up a list of subjects) Astronomy, arithmancy (whatever tf that is, but I’m good at math?), ancient runes, and history of magic (because lbr that sounds FASCINATING even with a boring teacher. I’ll just skip class and diligently read the textbooks. I’ve aced at least three classes that way). And knowing me I’m not getting a T in anything.

33. How about in your n.e.w.t.s? See above, probably

34. If you were a pure-blood, would you take interest in reading muggle literature? I’m an anthro person, of course I’m gonna read other cultures’ stuff

35. At what time do you think you’ll go to bed on weekdays? hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa…….

36. Would you prefer firewhiskey over butterbeer? Seeing as how I prefer regular whisky over regular beer… give me all the firewhisky.

37. What wizard snack would be your favorite? Or which one would you like to try? Cauldron cakes and anything else with chocolate

38. Will you collect chocolate frog cards? Not intentionally, but judging by the sheer amount of chocolate I eat (seriously, it’s… alarming) I’d amass an accidental collection anyway

39. Will you keep track of which flavor of beans you already tried? Yes, so I know which of the nasty ones to avoid in the future

40. What quidditch team (excluding hogwarts houses) will you support? Kayla I’m gonna steal your answer for this one; all-girl Holyhead Harpies quidditch sounds awesome

41. What classes will you take for n.e.w.t.s? Honestly, probably everything except herbology and care of magical creatures. I’m a nerd. I wanna learn it all.

42. What will your boggart be? Dying horribly…? Idk how you’d make a boggart out of that. An airplane on fire? An irukanji jellyfish?

43. Will you stay in the hog’s head or the three broomsticks? *insert “both is good” gif here*

44. If you are of age, will you try to enter the triwizard tournament if they ever host one again? No I kind of like being alive

45. What do you think happens during graduation? Honestly, that’s… an excellent question. There would be traditional graduation elements (reading off names, receiving some kind of certificate, speeches by faculty and the head boy+girl). Probably held in the great hall. Enchanted fireworks? Hagrid crying. Hopefully lots of firewhisky.

46. Will you see the thestrals carrying the carriages? No

47. If you were invited to join the slug club, will you accept the invitation? Yes because I hate networking so I might as well let someone else (Slughorn) do it for me

48. Will you consider becoming a professor in hogwarts after school? Nah, teaching the same thing year after year doesn’t sound interesting. I’d love to do something like Bill Weasley, traveling around breaking curses. Or a wizard anthropologist, seeing how wizards in other countries do their thing. Hogwarts needs some kind of career counseling…

49. What would your patronus be? A raccoon bc I too am nocturnal and eat trash

50. What memory will you think of when making a patronus? If we’re talking my real life, then the Poets of the Fall concert wherein I not only got front-ish row but got to MEET THEM BEFORE THE SHOW and tell the guitarist that I named my guitar after him lmao…. If we’re talking wizarding-world related stuff, then…. first date with Sirius? Because you better believe he’s #1 on my wizarding world to-do list. Pun absolutely intended.

51. What year are you suppose to be in right now? Graduated not only Hogwarts but also any wizarding tertiary education, because I’m old

[zippdementia]

Part 41 Alignment May Vary: The Council at Drellin’s Ferry

This is the ongoing adventure in the 5e conversion of classic 3.5 adventure The Red Hand of Doom! Not only does this detail the adventures of my three players but it also give detailed suggestions on how to run a 5e conversion of this campaign.

Tools I reference a lot: The 3.5 Red Handbook of Doom, The beastiary Revenge of the Horde, secondary beastiary Tome of Beasts.

At this point in the campaign, the players should have cleared Vraath Keep or at least scouted it, they may have the map showing the Red Horde Plans, and they have a couple directions they could take. Some may wish to head back to Drellin’s Ferry, feeling their mission is accomplished. Others may want to push back into the woods and try to see the forces at Cinder Hill. As DM, it is your job to manage these two different paths and to keep the action moving. To this end, if the party does go back to Drellin’s Ferry, you need to put things in place to move them back into the action. The easiest way to do this is to set up Skull Bridge Point as a key factor in the approaching horde’s plans.

If the players got the map from Vraath Keep, then Skull Bridge Gorge should be pointed out on it as a choke point that, if destroyed, should buy the party enough time to evacuate Drellin’s Ferry or set up better defenses. Taking out the bridge should become the next goal of the party--or preparing for the consequences of failing to do this.

If the party did not receive the map, there are still plenty of ways to come to this information. Skull Gorge Bridge might be known by Jorr, or one of the hobgoblins might still be alive after the battle and will offer up the information in exchange for mercy. If all else fails and the players truly are treating the adventure like its over, then Drellin Ferry can come under attack by an advance scouting unit consisting of a chimera and a band of hobgoblins. After the raid, one of the hobgoblins who died has a letter on him dictating that “the main force will be crossing Skull’s Bridge in three days” or some such.

Point is, you have options.

Our group decides on a dual plan: they ask Jorr to continue into the woods to scout out the bridge while they return to Drellin’s Ferry to report on what they’ve seen. Jorr agrees, as long as Xaviee goes with him for protection in case they run into trouble. Jorr has been acting more ornery than usual since they cleared out the vaults of Vraath Keep and found the body of Lord Amory, the foolish lordling who got his people killed by instigating war with the giants. Jorr even kicks* the corpse of the long dead lordling before they leave the vaults, but it does nothing to improve his mood. Regardless, he agrees to meet back up with them in Drellin’s Ferry.

The heroes head back to town, unsure of how the town’s leader will react.

*edit: originally I mistyped "keeps" here, causing some confusion. Jorr did not keep the lordling's body. That would be weird. Although maybe weirdly in character for what will happen in a couple of sessions.

“Three to five days. That’s what we have, Wiston.” Delora Zann punctuated her statement by holding up five fingers, then three, and then closing her hands into fists. They were calloused hands, especially along the insides of the fingers, where they would wrap around the hilt of a blade or mace or spear. Zann’s name was unknown to Tyrion, but he had seen her sort before. He guessed she was a retired adventurer. Her face had the hard lines and her voice a certain stubborness that told him she was used to having to make quick decisions in bad situations and to stick by them, for better or worse. He knew the feeling well.

“Well now, Delora, let us not get ahead of ourselves.” This voice belonged to the other halfling in the room, Kellin Ferryman, owner of the Old Bridge Inn. His voice was silk and his manner sweet honey and Tyrion hated him on sight, despite him probably being a far far distant cousin (an old saying said that all Halflings were related, one way or another). “We have a map, yes, and we have the word of these adventurers, but that is all we have. To take this and use it as evidence to evacuate an entire city, well now... that seems overzealous to me.” He smiled sweetly at the companions. “I mean no offense, good travelers, but you must understand—we don’t know much about you. If a stranger came to you and told you you must leave your home as fast as possible and leave all your valuables behind unprotected, you would be a little cautious, too, I think.”

The implication caused Tyrion’s temper to flare. Nysyries, too, if the growl that came from the Dragonborn’s throat was any sign. Trakki was quicker to speak than either of them, however.

“My lords,” the wood elf began. “You yourselves hired us to investigate the disturbances around this town and in these woods. We are simply reporting what we found and giving our reccomendation for what path you should next pursue. If we had wanted to rob you, we could have hatched less complicated schemes.”

“What he means,” Tyrion broke in, “is that if we wanted your pitiful belongings, we would kill you all and take them.”

Pandemonium broke out at the council table. Kellin was smiling a knowing half smile that Tyrion longed to take his axe to. Delora was pounding her fist at the table and yelling at the uncaring halfling. Captain of the Guard, Soranna, was rubbing her forehead. And old man Iormel was shouting that outsiders could not be trusted and Tyrion’s threats were proof. Trakki glared at the halfling, which was impressive considering Trakki did not have eyes. Speaker Wiston stood finally and held up his hands, which has the slow effect of quieting the noise at the table.

“If we have taken offense at the bard’s words, it is only because we gave offense first. Kellin, the veracity of this group’s information is not in question. The matter laid before us is what to do about it. We must now assume a large host of hobgoblins, perhaps accompanied by Dragonborn warriors, is coming to our town, perhaps to sack it. What are we to do?”

“Evacuate,” Nysyries broke in. “The one advantage we have here is time and the more we sit here talking, the more of that we lose.”

“I do not question the group’s truthfullness,” Iormel said in response. He was an old man with a face like a dried plum, puckered and wrinkled. “I question their bravery. If all Dragonborn are as craven as this one, why then we should never fear a horde of them. All we need to do to defeat them is draw an ominious map.” He laughed, a mean little sound.

Nysyeries’ fists clenched. But Trakki kept calm. “Maybe there is something we can do,” he said. “If we can destroy that bridge, we can delay the army long enough to get everyone safely out of town.”

Iormel scoffed. “Back to evacuations and fleeing! I will not run, I will--”

“You will be silent,” speaker Wiston broke in. “We have all seen the evidence, even before these good adventurers arrived. We have seen the increase in the attacks outside the village. No one dares take the Dawn Way through the Wytchwood anymore. And the Druid tells me that dark things move in the woods. Why, wasn’t it Franco who swore he saw a goat carried off by a three headed beast just last month? Our village is not safe anymore. We must now turn our thoughts to how to protect ourselves.”

Soranna took over from here: “If you three find a way to destroy the bridge, then I will work on the evacuation.”

“And runners should be sent,” Trakki added. “Runners should be sent to the other villages and cities of the area to warn them: the horde is coming.”

Delora stood. “I’ll get a few good men and we will head out tonight.” She shook her head. “The horde is coming... what times we have lived to see.”

The next morning, the party headed up the hill to Sera’s mansion, to see how the halfling wizard was coming along with their special project. As they approached, a loud explosion suddenly boomed out across the town and black smoke began to pour from the open windows of the upstairs floor of the mansion, roiling out into the summer sky. The party increased their speed.

“Sera!” Tyrion called in alarm as they pushed open the mansion’s front doors.

The wizard came stumbling down her stairs, face black with soot, coughing and waving a hand in front of her face to ward off a cloud of smoke that followed her into the main receiving room.

“Did you all sleep last night? Because I did not sleep last night. Do I look like I slept last night? I’m probably a mess. Do you want any tea?” All of this was delivered by the halfling wizard in a breathless monologue and before they could answer, was followed up by: “I did it!”

What Sera had done, exactly, was to build them a device that held enough explosive fiery power to destroy the skull gorge bridge. It looked like a medium sized rectangular package (”I call it Contained Corrosive Catastrophic Compound, or C4 for short!”) wrapped in thick wet leaves (”They are soaked in a stabilizing compound, it’s not a very, um, safe device. I didn’t have time or the materials to make sure it doesn’t explode on impact, so, um, avoid getting hit real hard”).

The item wasn’t quite ready yet: it needed some finishing touches. In two days, they would return to take it and head off to their mission at the Skull Gorge Bridge. And hopefully by then, Xaviee and Jorr would have returned to report on what they could expect to face there.

Notes on Setting up for the Skull Gorge Bridge

When Dungeons and Dragons is at its best, it plays like a series of set pieces, each with different challenges. It needs to be more than just the stats on a page, otherwise it quickly becomes a game of dice rolling to see who got highest, the tactical equivalent of the card game WAR (aka the most boring card game in the world). I’m always looking for ways to make a scenario more interesting and in this case found the opportunity to add in several elements to make the attack on Skull Bridge an epic moment:

High stakes: the invasion is coming! Skull Gorge Bridge is the key point to slowing this invasion. If the players succeed or fail here, it will have an impact on our story. Letting the players know that through the council and all the set up has made this battle more important than just another battle hub in a campaign of battles.

A goal that’s different from “kill everything” and “survive”: this one is key. Almost always, the goal in DnD is to survive and kill most everything. Beat the boss monster and you win the session! Mixing up those goals are the number one key way to make a campaign more interesting. In this case, we’ve set up a great goal of “blow up the bridge.” Doing so may happen without killing all the monsters and it may happen without everyone surviving. It also forces players to use their skills and abilities for more than just monster slaying and forces them to think outside of the box in terms of “I’ll just rush everything.” It also allows me, as a DM, to come up with some pretty challenging monsters, since the goal isn’t to defeat them all.

A wild card item: Items that add excitement to a game are a huge help in keeping it interesting. The Cursed Axe Tyrion wields changed his entire character progression, for instance. Now I’ve thrown in the C4, which comes with both a risk and a possibility. The risk is that if I determine the situation is right (they’ve been dealt a critical blow, or have fallen prey to a fire effect spell, or a thunder spell) I’ll make them roll a d100 to see if the bomb explodes. The possibility is that this is the item that can in one shot destroy that bridge. Even then, there will be a small chance it doesn’t go off and (Sera makes an offhand joke about this, but I do intend to roll for it) a 2% chance that it magically goes awry and builds a new bridge. I make the item this way because it adds excitement, but also because it lets me use the magic crafting rules in an interesting way. By all indications in the official rules, building a bomb like this should take weeks and lots of gold. But my party doesn’t have that kind of time, and I’m not going to let the rules turn me away from an interesting scenario. So instead Sera charges 500gp and builds the bomb in a few days... but it has a ton of flaws. It’s a way to let the rules inform the world building while also not letting them dictate your scenario and story.

A time limit: The players will have one chance at the bridge. They don’t have time for a second run, nor will they have time to strike, then short rest, then strike again. This is going to be one glorious one-shot battle.

Next time we will see how it plays out.