#dnd magic object
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Magic Item
Sandwich of Chaotic Layers
Description: A sandwich made of suspicious ingredients and a curious amount of cheese, when eaten it gives random effects to character. If it is kept in the inventory long enough it might attract mice and other rodents, if it is kept for even longer at every rest of the character with the Sandwich of Chaotic Layers in their inventory loses 2d12 of HP while those near a radius of 10 ft lose 2d6 of HP after the rest, due to the radiations that the Sandwich of Chaotic Layers emits.
Functionality: Use a bonus action to eat the sandwich, a normal action if you’re size is smaller than Medium, then roll d for the effects.
Results:
You get teleported inside a radius of 5-20 ft not occupied by another creature, you can decide exactly where
The scent of warm bread surrounds the player and up to 5 allies, they heal 2d10 HP and gain 20 Temporary hit points
You get two charges of a garlic scented breath attack that causes confusion and disadvantage to all roles against you and saving throws to all your enemies in a 15 ft cone, but also repel your allies to at least 5 ft from you
A bread wall circles around your enemy and it blocks their vision and movement. To escape your enemy has to deal at least 10 x S of damage, where S is the size of the enemy (1 is Tiny, Medium is 3, Gargantuan 6…), to make a hole big enough to escape
From the mouth of the player comes out a steam of water that deals 4d6 of water damage to those in a line of 20ft in front of the player, with a roll of Athletics higher than 12 the player can move while spitting water to aim to other enemies, this however will deal 2d6 to all enemies hurt instead of 4d6.
A cheese armour surrounds the player, giving them +2 AC but also giving them a -10ft of movement speed
The player’s movement speed doubles but it may randomly oink even after the effect wears off, until they take a rest
Wheel of cheese. For 17 turns. Aka 289 seconds. Aka 4 minutes and 49 seconds. Aka Wheel of cheese for five minutes.
3d4 mice gets teleported in a 5 ft radius from you, you can control them and give them order for 6 turns, after that they’ll become normal mice
A cloud of lint surrounds an enemy, they’ll suffer 2d6 more fire damage if attacked with a fire spell or fire related attacks, the same goes with 1d12 of lightning damage. Until the enemy is surrounded by the lint cloud it gets disadvantage on rolls to hit. The cloud disappear once a fire or lightning attack successfully damage the enemy
A rideable Large cushion of magical focaccia appears in front of the players. The cushion can fly and has 350 HP but no attacks. After receiving 300 HP, reaching a total of 100 ft of movement or after 7 turns the flying focaccia gently lands and then disappear.
3d8 of radiant damage to all creatures in a radius of 35ft from the player (including) the party gets a -10 to the total damage if they have spent at least 2 rests with the Sandwich of Chaos Layers in the inventory of someone.
Inspiration: this silly reblog list ⬇️
Thanks to @garaks-padded-bra @acrowbyanyothername @buglyteeth @imhaley @ronzyponyo @funnywormz @deepestturtlepielover @willowandthesagaofgayyearning @summer-azure @spacetronomyfan @spocktopodes ❤️
#d&d#d&d 5e#dnd homebrew#dnd stuff#dungeons and dragons#d&d ideas#dnd5e#d&d 5th edition#d&d homebrew#dnd#dnd item#dnd memes#d&d items#d&d memes#dnd magic object#dnd mount#dnd ideas#dnd spells#my sleep schedule is fucked thanks to this sandwich
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I love magical objects with loopholes.
Imagine a necklace amulet that makes the user the strongest one on land.
What I hear here is:
- The amulet doesn't work in water (not "on land") and on land the user is always "the strongest one".
- Or the amulet makes you the strongest one of the ones on land, thus there is a possibility that someone who is from the sea will beat their ass.
- Or imagine this: For years, the one wearing the amulet was strong as hell yes, but only in terms of peak human ability. One day, they get strength of ridiculous power. Because someone REAL strong appeared, and was stronger than the amulet-wearer, so the amulet make the wearer stronger than the one who appeared.
#dnd magic object#d&d loot#dnd#d&d#loot#magic object#worldbuilding#fantasy worldbuilding#fantasy#fantasy world#worldbuilding ideas
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Another one of my home rules for D&D 5e, tables to roll for some special object that are not outright magical like a +1 sword but will make for a unique reward, like the masterpiece of a village's blacksmith or a boon from an old mage!
(as a matter of fact I despise +X weapons and shields, they are not interesting and throw off the best part of the game, the functional math)
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DAY XV - “THE ARTIFACT”
prompt list
#art#fantasy art#fantasy illustration#prop#fantasy design#object design#artist#illustrator#illustration#dnd#dungeons and dragons#relic#artifact#prompt#daily art#daily art challenge#maygic#magic may#coin#cursed#magic 2023
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BOMBY THE HEALER!!!!!
Anywayz, i think zome of my favorite detailz r the zhoez and the ztitching/overall dezign of the bag.
THE ARMZ LOOK ZO WEIRD I CANT FIND A WAY TO MAKE THEM LOOK NORMAL/EVEN :CRY:
edit:: Alzo, i have verzionz with the original background and without the gear/clothing if any1 wantz to zee :33
#original art#my art#object art#bomby bfdi#bomby bfdia is the silly ever#magic#healer of the group#healer design#dnd in tpot#tpot#the power of two#silly#silly meow meow#bfb#bfdia#bfdi#i hate how the arms look#why does my art look like this#legalize nuclear bombs
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gideons alt class is npc who cowers in a corner during combat
#or a cleric#da gideon who is afraid of his own powers bc of religious guilt#vs dnd gideon who is too obsessed with his magic bc it is divine#unstoppable force vs immovable object#ch: gideon trevelyan
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From the Empress’ Armory - The ORBITAL HAMMER
Gather momentum, then send your foes flying!
#weapon design#magic weapons#DnD 5e#ttrpg#Mars Foy#it's Mars' new hammer! made it herself- inspired by an ancient empress#fun to do an object for once :)
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Every Literary Reference Gale Makes When Selected in BG3 (That I Could Find)
"Oh, what a tangled Weave we web!" -
A play on words referencing the famous quote, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive," from Sir Walter Scott's poem "Marmion."
"What fools these mortals be." -
A quote from William Shakespeare's play "A Midsummer Night's Dream," spoken by the character Puck.
"All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it." -
A reference to the famous Shakespearean line, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players," from "As You Like It."
"No rest for the wicked" -
A phrase that originates from the Bible Isaiah 48:22 There is no peace, saith the Lord, unto the wicked.
"To hold the world in the palm of one's hand" -
I believe this is a reference to this part of the poem Auguries of Innocence by William Blake:
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
"'Doth thy mirror crack?' Apparently not." -
I was so sure this was a quote from some Shakespearean play but nope lol. This is a Waterdhavian phrase that was mentioned in a DnD companion book at some point.
"Seek and you shall find me." -
From the bible. Specifically Matthew 7:7–8
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
The path less travelled. -
A reference to Robert Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken," which includes the line, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by."
"Creator. Destroyer." -
This is a reference to the Lord Krishna's words in the Bhagavad Gita.
O Arjuna, I am the creator, maintainer and destroyer of all created objects, such as the sky. Of all knowledge I am knowledge of the self, and in logical debate I am vāda, the philosophical principle that asserts the conclusive truth.
"A rough tempest I will raise" -
I found the explanation behind this quote from a reddit post:
"Shakespeare - Tempest, - this is a mash-up of two quotes: In Act V, Scene 1, Prospero uses the phrasing "when first I raised the Tempest". In the same scene, he recites a soliloquy about the great works of magic he has accomplished, before finally renouncing magic altogether: " … But this rough magic I here abjure" https://www.reddit.com/r/BaldursGate3/comments/17uher2/literary_references_in_gales_selection_remarks/ (this person came to the same conclusions as me for many of the prior quotes but I only used their post for this one haha)
I almost certainly missed a few! If there are any others please feel free to reblog and add them!
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#literature#bible#bhagavad gita#walter scott#shakespeare#william blake#robert frost
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The Object of My Desire
SUMMARY: You're a hardworking scholar and the spoiled daughter of a corrupt nobleman.
The mercenary hired for your protection is more than willing to take your father's money, just not your bratty attitude. Luckily, he's got a few ways to deal with spoiled little girls like you.
PAIRING: fighter!price x wizard!reader
WORD COUNT: 5.1k
TAGS: DND!au, porn with some plot, f masturbation, dirty talk, cunnilingus, he bends you over a desk, PIV, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight breath play, creampie, slight jealously, reader gets called a bitch (not by Price but he does call you a brat whoops)
A/N: this is just a silly little idea that popped into my head while I tried learning more about DND! I actually rolled some dice to make some decisions/outcomes and it made the writing experience way more fun 10/10 recommend
Winter’s gray sky cast a torrent of rain against the cobblestone roads and blew frigid winds through the streets of Moongarde. Despite the relentless weather, citizens continued to migrate towards the town's center in attendance for the annual Heroes Feast.
You clutched your cloak tighter against your chest as you weaved through the crowds of people heading in the opposite direction. There were more important things to deal with than a stupid celebration—like the supposed danger you were in.
Having a father who enjoyed making enemies in high places certainly made your life interesting. Though, the threats on your life were, frankly, a nuisance. You had much better things to do than worry about silly threats from cowardly, old men. But, your father worried; he worried enough to hire a mercenary to guard you.
You hoped he wasn't old and boring like the last one you chased away. Any guard who succumbed to simple illustory spells like fear weren't worth the gold your father spent.
Ahead, a hanging sign swung forward in the wind. Carved into the wood was a crow perched on a branch, staring off beyond the borders of its design. The Ivory Crow—a dingy, little establishment you loathed to enter.
With a grimace, you made your way up the creaking wooden stairs. Already, you could hear rowdy, clamorous songs and bellowing voices seeping through the cracks of its shabby, wooden walls.
Before you could reach out to push open the swinging doors, they burst open and a man stumbled out, his weight nearly toppling onto you.
“S’rry ‘bout tha’, m’ss,” he slurred, hiccuping as he ended his sentence. He grabbed onto one of the doors to steady himself, though he still swayed.
“Move,” you demanded. His body blocked half the entrance and you weren’t interested in squeezing past him. He was covered in stains, presumably sweat and booze from the acrid smell of him.
He lifted his head towards you, eyes half-lidded. “Hey, don’ tell me wha’ ta do,” he hissed.
You rolled your eyes and raised a finger towards the man. The familiar warmth of magic pooled at your fingertip and was dispelled when you tapped his forehead.
He crumpled to the ground, eyes closed with his chest still rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
You wiped your finger against your velvet cloak and stepped over the unconscious body into the tavern.
The inside was warmly lit by a large candle chandelier hanging from the tall rafters and more candles decorating tables. No one in the tavern seemed to have noticed your exchange. They were all absorbed in their own ideas of fun.
A dwarven bard strummed her lute on top of a table, singing an unfamiliar tune and absorbing the adoring applause of drunken patrons who chimed in off-key. Couples, locked in heated embraces, cozied themselves to dimly lit corners of the tavern.
If it wasn’t singing or lovers, there was plenty of conversation floating through the air to distract from anything outside.
Your eyes scanned the tavern’s edge, looking for a lone figure at one of the tables.
The mercenary gave your father instructions for you to find him at the Ivory Crow. Look for a bear on the pommel of his sword, your father had said.
In the far corner of the room, you finally spoted a vaguely familiar figure matching your idea of him, sitting on a stool with his back facing the wall and nursing a pint of ale between his hands. His eyes were downcast as he stared at the overflowing foam sliding down the metal pint.
He seemed to be the only lone figure in the tavern, everyone else was joined by at least one other companion.
His attire was shades of muted green and brown, darkened by grime and dirt. A sword tucked in its scabard leaned against the table. The pommel bore the crest of a roaring bear head.
You approached swiftly, maneuvering your way past the overflowing tables filled with patrons and stumbling drunks trying to get to the bar.
When you reached the mercenary, you stood at the edge of his table. His gaze lifted from his drink to you. Blue eyes met yours.
He wasn't as old as your last guard, and he certainly wasn't as boring to look at.
There was no surprise on his face as he looked at you, no glimmer of recognition; his stern countenance gave away nothing of his thoughts. His gaze was almost intense, discerning, and calculating.
You broke eye contact first to look down at the round stool opposite him. It had a spot of liquid on the edge that made you grimace.
All the other surrounding chairs looked occupied. So, you dug through your leather bag and pulled a purple cloth from it.
You wordlessly conjured up a spectral blue hand and offered up the cloth for it to wipe away the liquid. The hand dried up the liquid and deposited the cloth on the table before vanishing.
The mercenary had crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall to watch you, legs spread wide. Inquisitive eyes followed as you took a seat, back stiff with hands tucked into your cloak, clutching it tighter to your body as if it were shielding you.
“Ser Jonathan Price, correct?”
He nodded once and said nothing.
You fished a hefty pouch from your leather bag and tossed it towards him. The platinum pieces inside rattled as they hit the table.
His eyes fell to the bag for a moment, then slid back up to you, not attempting to reach for the pouch.
Maybe he was unimpressed.
“There's your payment for today—one hundred platinum pieces,” you stated and cleared your throat. “Now, the rules for this arrangement are simple: protect me and stay out of my way.”
You think he understood. He didn't say anything otherwise. There was a slight twitch in your eye when he tilted his head like he was looking at an amusing, little oddity.
After another moment his arms unfurled and a hand reached out for the pouch. He cradled it in his palm, hefting it for its weight. The coins rattled. When he pushed two fingers into the closed seam and spread it open, you scoffed.
“If you think I'm lying, don't. Your coin is there.” You crossed your arms, in an attempt to be as nonplussed as he was—it was a poor attempt. You couldn't help the frown that stuck to your lips.
He removed his fingers from the pouch and rapped his knuckles down hard against the wooden table twice, making you flinch and catching the attention of a passing barmaid.
Their exchange was quick. She turned her head toward him with a bright smile, flirty even as her eyes roamed down his figure. He pointed a finger down at his pint and flicked his wrist up to call for one more. She nodded and flitted back to the bar.
“Easy enough,” he said when he turned back to you. His voice was smoky, low. Probably caused by too many cigarettes and shouting. He rested his forearms on the table, one hand still gripped around the pouch. “But drop the ser, m’ not a knight.”
Your brows furrowed. You recalled the description your father gave you of him. A knight who served under the King’s banner for twenty years. “But you’re-”
“I was,” he interrupted firmly, leaving you with no room to argue.
Your mouth remained open, wanting to bite back, but when his brow raised slightly at the hint of a challenge, you clenched your jaw. Any attempt to delve further into the topic would only prove futile and a waste of time.
You took in a deep breath through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. “Fine,” you acquiesced. “How do I address you then?”
“John’s good enough for me."
“Okay, John,” you ground out and stood from your seat. “I want to leave before nightfall.”
He held his hand up, stopping you in your place. “We're not going anywhere yet, love.”
You bristled at both the nickname and his order. The arrangement was supposed to be the other way around. You give him orders and he follows.
“Sit, drink—I already bought you a mug.”
On cue, the barmaid returned to the table with another overflowing pint in her hand and set it down on your side. She wiped her hand down on her apron and looked at John, her charming smile returning. “Anythin’ else I can getcha?”
“No, thank you.” He returned her smile with a grin of his own. He dug into the pouch and pulled out a platinum piece, setting it in her outstretched hand.
Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “This is too much! The drinks are only ten silver!”
You crossed your arms and interjected, “I agree. That's far too much.”
“Keep it,” he assured, waving her off.
The barmaid scurried away with an even wider smile than you thought possible. Her hair and skirt bounced as she went.
With her gone, he turned his attention back to you and gestured back to your stool. “Drink with me.”
The foam dribbling down the sides of the metal pint made you grimace. You didn't drink ale; it wasn't to your taste. You preferred the rich, sweet taste of Evermead.
But, another part of you was tempted, not by cheap ale. It was the mercenary, the ex-knight, Jonathan Price. Stern to you, yet kind to the barmaid. Silent but still expressive. You felt the tug of curiosity, the desire to learn everything about this stranger and unfold his secrets.
You sat, watching as he took his ale and the bob of his throat as he drank.
He set down his drink, now half full, and nodded his head toward your mug. “Don't be shy, love. Go on.”
Your hand snuck out from your cloak and grasped the handle, cold and slightly sticky. Slowly, to not spill, you lifted the mug and took a sip. Cold liquid slid down your throat. The ale was bitter, watered down, and made your mouth twist with disgust.
“That bad, eh?” He chuckled. You were alarmed to find his low, raspy chuckle disarming. Surely, the ale hadn't got to your head already.
You set the mug down, pushing it further away with your fingers, and wiped your lips clean of any foam left behind with the back of your hand. “I can't believe you like this.”
“Oh, I don't like this garbage.” He laughed, grabbing his mug once more. His thumb idly ran down the handle, throwing a glance out to the crowded tavern. “Just drinking to pass the time.”
“Surely there are better taverns to drink in.” You glanced around at the rowdy patrons once more. Two men were standing toe to toe at the table across from you, exchanging heated words.
When he failed to respond, you tried following his eye. It led you to the opposite side of the room toward the barmaid who served you earlier tending to a group of adventurers. She pressed her hip against the table and chatted with them, laughing.
“So, it’s not the drinks that bring you back,” you muttered to yourself, moving your gaze back to him.
The small smile that tugged the corner of his lips as he watched her caused a strange feeling to stir in your chest. You clenched your hands together, forcing away the uncomfortable squeeze.
You stood abruptly from your seat, ignoring your chair tipping backwards and hitting the floor. His attention was on you again. The smile was gone.
“We’re going.”
“Haven't finished your drink,” he called as you stormed off.
You ignored him, pushing straight between the two quarreling men. Your hands pressed hard against both their chests to pry them out of your way.
The two men stumbled back, caught off guard.
“Hey!”
“Don't touch me, you little bitch,” the other snarled. His hand shot out to grab your wrist, narrowly latching on.
His movements were sloppy, most likely from all the ale he'd been drinking. You were quick enough to snatch your hand away before he could restrain you.
You were beginning to really hate this tavern.
More patrons were beginning to watch the exchange, sitting back like it was some spectacle.
But, you saw John rise from his stool. His hand grasping his sword as he approached the men from behind.
“Let's settle down, gentleman,” he said with a tired sigh.
The man who tried grabbing you turned his attention to John. “Stay outta this,” he hissed, clenching his fists and setting his shoulders back. He was much larger than John, towering at least a head taller.
You didn't want to find out how well a brawl between the two would end.
“Obtempero."
The spell sliped from your lips and the man stiffend. In that instance, your mind was linked with his as you forcibly erased any free will he had.
Shut up and sit down, you commanded.
The room went silent as the man lowered onto his seat. You clenched your jaw when your head began to throb, a sign of him fighting against your control.
“Quickly,” you beckoned to the mercenary. Your control over the man’s mind wouldn't last long and you didn't want to stick around to face his wrath.
You turned and dashed out the tavern doors, followed closely by John who was laughing to himself.
“Clearly you can handle yourself. Don't know what you need me for,” he said.
A light rainfall had started, coating you and the streets in water. You raised your hood over your head to shield yourself.
The street was still bustling with citizens with their umbrellas. A good cover in case the man tried following the two of you.
“I only agreed to a guard to appease father’s worries,” you muttered, sidestepping a pair of children running past you, chasing each other with wooden swords. “But, dealing with pea-brained oafs is easy compared to defending myself from someone with a dagger.”
He only hummed in reply, walking in stride with you up the cobblestone street. The rain was beginning to dampen his hair and clothes, but he didn't seem to mind.
You could feel your concentration on the spell waning the further you got until it snapped. You tensed and reached to grab John’s hand. His fingers wrapped around yours without question.
“We have to-”
“You bitch! I'm gonna tear you apart!”
Your head snapped around to find the man burst from the tavern door with a roar. Your heart jumped. The man almost seemed to burn with fury as he barreled up the street in search of you.
“This way.”
John tugged your hand and you allowed him to pull you through the street, weaving your way through throngs of people. He pulled you through unfamiliar streets that passed by in a blur before taking a sharp right into an alleyway, tugging you into the shadows.
Your back was against the stone walls and you heaved a sigh. Your heart raced with adrenaline. This certainly wasn't anything you'd experienced while nose-deep in a book. “Gods, I-”
“Shh,” he hushed, placing a hand over your mouth.
Your eyes widened. He was looking out towards the street and you realized how close he was standing, nearly pressed against your front. Your hand gripped his wrist; to pry it off or hold him close, you didn't know.
When he deemed the coast clear, his hand fell away.
“Don't do that again,” you said weakly.
He looked down at you, an amused smile forming. “Understood. Mind giving me my hand back then?”
You didn't realize your grip on his wrist remained. You released him and slipped away.
“I'll lead us home.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The sun was just setting by the time you returned to the manor. John had followed you silently the whole way.
“Welcome back, ma'am,” Ann greeted once you entered the foyer. She was a maid you'd known since you were a child. Her warm smile was akin to that of a mother’s, though you'd never call her such.
“Ann will run you a bath and get you some new clothes.”
She was already moving up the left side of the split staircase to fulfill your request.
“What's wrong with my clothes?” John glanced down at his attire, smoothing his hand down the front of his doublet, now soaked with rain.
“They're filthy and soaked. Now go.” You used your hand to shoo him off and he followed Ann with a sigh, ascending the stairs.
You went off to another area of the manor where you could take your own bath and wash away the grime of that tavern.
When the bath was filled and ready, you shed your robes and stepped into the warmth, sighing as the warm water enveloped your body. You ran your hand up your arm, over your neck, and down your collarbone.
While you washed, your thoughts wandered back to John. A hand slipped down the valley of your breasts and between your thighs.
There was no question that he was attractive. The mercenary was new and surprisingly exciting—an experiment to toy with. You wanted to win him, have him in the palm of your hand and study what made him tick.
Your index finger brushed against your clit. The first hum of pleasure bolted through your body. Slow teasing circles were drawn over your clit until you ached for more. Two fingers parted your folds to allow your middle finger to dip in.
You sunk lower into the water, chin rippling the surface, and let your eyes fall shut to embrace your own touch while imagining it was someone else's.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
When you slipped out of the bath, satisfied, you redressed into a new robe. The loose low neck reached your abdomen, teasing the inner valley of your breasts.
As you made your way to your room, you noticed the door was left slightly ajar. When you pushed open the door, you found John standing at your bookshelf, his fingers running down the spine of a tome.
He was in a fresh set of clothes, loaned from a butler by the looks of it. The untucked, white dress shirt clung to the curves of his muscles, growing taut when he folded his arms. The black pants fit his form enough to show off the thickness of his thighs.
You shut the door and leaned against it, eyeing his form. The ache between your legs was growing again, wanting more than just your fingers this time.
John turned around at the noise and you could see the buttons of his shirt were halfway done, revealing his toned chest with a smattering of hair.
“Impressive collection,” he remarked. “I’d expect no less from a wizard.”
“I spent my entire life building this collection,” you replied absently. Your mind was wandering to other things—the veins on his arms, the bulge of his pectorals in the shirt. You were unashamedly staring through lowered eyelids, greedily taking in the sight.
He was just as interested in your low cut robes. It was obvious in the way his eyes roamed your chest.
You chose to close the gap until you were beside the bookcase, just a foot away from his side.
He leaned his shoulder against the shelves and looked at you with a sly smirk. “Trying to charm me?”
Magic would make your game too easy.
Your hand moved to caress his jaw, smoothing over the soft hairs of his beard. He didn't move away, choosing to lean further into your touch.
“I don't need to,” you hummed. Your fingers clawed up the slope of his neck and into the short strands of damp hair, drawing his face closer. “You're already mine.”
“That so?” His words fluttered along your lips in warm breaths. Strong hands fell to the curves of your waist, smoothing down to your ass and pulling you against his front.
You felt the growing stiffness of his cock, trapped in his pants, press against your abdomen which only made the throbbing of your cunt worse. Instead of responding, you leaned forward and sealed your lips tightly against his, tasting smoke and bitter ale on his tongue.
John was quick to respond, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip to get you to open up for him. His grip slid down your ass, roughly squeezing the soft flesh in his large palms.
You rubbed yourself against his bulge, trying to satisfy the need growing inside of you. There was a needy, animalistic frenzy in his low groan, vibrating in his chest.
He backed you up towards your desk. It was cluttered with more tomes you amassed over the years, threatening to spill at the slightest touch. Your prized spell book, a gift from your father, was also sitting open, flipped to the enchantment spell you used earlier at the tavern.
John didn't seem to care much for your precious collection as he swiped the books off your desk to make room to set you down. They scattered to the floor.
You pulled away, intent on telling him off. That spell book was one of a kind—
He didn't give you room to argue, much less breathe. His lips were already diving forward to capture yours again, dizzying you, driving any thought out of your head. Your legs spread around his to accommodate his body as he forced your attention back on him.
John’s hands pushed aside the fabric of your robe which easily fell around your waist, exposing your bare breasts to the cool room air. Your hardening nipples rubbed against the coarse fabric of his shirt.
Your hands roamed his chest in turn, running over the coarse hairs and clawing down his exposed sternum. You worked quickly to unbutton the rest of his shirt and pushed it off his broad shoulders.
Once revealed, you trailed your eyes over his chest and down to a nasty scar sliced from his upper torso across his stomach. It was old by the scaring. You briefly wondered if it was the reason he was no longer a knight as your hand reached out to brush over it.
John caught your wrist in an iron grip. When you looked back at his face, his stern expression told you enough to stay silent about it. With your short nod, the tension in the air lifted and he was back to work on you.
Another night then, you thought. You'd unravel his secrets eventually.
When he released your wrist and pulled away, he moved down to his knees, untying the knot at your waist and pushing aside the rest of the fabric to reveal the rest of your body. With your thighs spread, he could fit his hand between your thighs, feeling the arousal leaking from your cunt.
“So wet already?”
His middle finger parted your folds, dipping in ever so slightly, causing your hips to shift forward, but he pulled away before you could feel him any deeper. He got to his knees, grunting as his settled.
Your legs hooked over his shoulders, leaving him face to face with your cunt. His heavy breath fanned over your exposed cunt.
“What a sight,” he muttered to himself before leaning in to flick his tongue over your clit again and again.
Your body trembled with static after every stroke of his tongue. Your fingers locked through his brown hair, tugging sharply at the roots. He hissed through his teeth at the sting, but even that didn't stop him.
His hands gripped your thighs around his shoulders, digging into the soft flesh and then smoothing up until his hands cupped your ass to push you further into his mouth.
One of your hands rested on the table to give yourself leverage as you rode his face. The hair of his beard burned against your inner thigh.
The pleasure thruming through your veins forced your legs to lock around his head as your orgasm came to its peak.
“That's it,” he coaxed. “Come in my fuckin’ mouth, love.”
John kept his mouth on your fluttering cunt, refusing to pull away until he had taken every last drop of your cum. Your hands weakly pulled on his hair, but his fingers dug deeper into your thighs as he forced his head back in.
“Gods,” you panted, looking down at him between your thighs, devouring you like a starved man. “Fuck me already.”
“Patience,” he huffed, flicking his tongue languidly over your clit once again. Your body stiffened again. “You think you can take me after one little orgasm?”
As you clenched around nothing and his tongue continued to take long strokes over your cunt, you rolled your eyes and snapped back, “Don’t be so cocky.”
He rose quickly after your remark, yanking your body off the desk as he went and forcing you around. One of his palms met the back of your neck and pushed you flat against the desk. His cock pressed against your ass. The fabric of his pants were rough against your bare skin.
“Let-"
His other hand clamped over your mouth and he growled into your ear, “No—no more orders. I'll give you what you want, but don't start cryin’ when it doesn't fit.”
You ached, wanting to rub your thighs together but his legs were in the way. His hand moved from your mouth to the button of his pants to pull himself free.
You could feel his thick cock press against your ass. Even without looking, you could tell he was nothing like the other wizards you'd have meaningless flings with in school.
His cock notched at your entrance and he asked lowly, “Ready, love?”
The hand over your mouth moved to caress the valley of your knuckles as your hand clasped the edge of the desk. Such an intimate gesture you almost wanted to embrace by turning over your hand and intertwining fingers.
But, you didn't have time for much thought before he buried himself into you as deep as he could go without resistance. Which was only the tip of his cock.
Your walls clamped around him, refusing to let him bully his way deeper. You whimpered, white-knuckling the desk, and shut your eyes. Gods, he was too thick.
“Shh,” he cooed in your ear. His fingers slid across your temple and into your hair, keeping your head against the desk. “You wanted this, right? You can take more.”
And he did give you more—and more, and more. Your clawed at the desk, welled up tears spilling down the side of your face, as he stretched you around his cock. You didn't breathe, not until his hips met your ass and you were completely filled to the brim.
You gasped, filling your lungs with air. The edge of the desk pressing against your abdomen allowed you to feel him deeper.
He grunted as you clenched around his length. “So fuckin’ tight,” he muttered to himself as he slowly rocked into your fluttering heat.
The friction wasn't enough for you. As always, you wanted more. You wanted to be fucked, ravished, devoured completely and thrown into a sickening rapture.
“More,” you moaned as his cocked dragged against your walls. You were needy and hungry for him to take you harder.
“Does a brat like you even know how to say please?” He slipped out of you completely instead.
You whined in protest, moving your hips back to fill the empty ache he left behind. His hands moved to grip your waist, holding you in place. “No, don't.”
“Too good to beg for it?” His fingers prodded at your entrance before he slipped two inside. They weren't comparable to his cock though—not as thick, not as full. “Come on my fingers then.”
His fingers curled against the sensitive spongey spot inside of you.
“F-Fuck you,” you ground out between your teeth, biting back a moan.
“That’s not what I asked for.” His voice was stern; there was no room for arguments, no room for demands other than his own.
You bit your lip. You weren't the one who was supposed to be begging—he was. Having John wrapped around your finger, desperate to please you like everyone else, was the end goal. But this?
Strong, commanding, taking what he wants—that was who John was. And even you couldn't help but relent to that dominance.
“Please.”
“Speak up, love.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.
Bastard.
“Please,” you repeated with a little more desperation than intended.
“Good girl,” he praised. His fingers slipped from you, pulling a string of your arousal with them, and he licked them clean. With his hands back on your hips, he lined up his cock and thrust back into you.
Your mouth hung open as your back arched into the desk. The pace he set was relentless. It rocked your desk, sending any books and papers left on it to the floor. But you didn't care anymore, not when he found that perfect spot inside you again and again. Your toes curled as warmth pooled in your stomach and your core tightened.
A hand wrapped around your neck once again, wrenching your back against his chest and forcing your head to the side. The sweat of your bodies melded you together. John’s fingers pressed on your throat with enough pressure to make you see stars. His gruff pants burst along the shell of your ear. His lips grazed the back of your neck as another hand moved to toy with your clit.
You cursed as your body seized up and you came around him. You held onto the arm pressed against your chest as you rode out your orgasm.
With a few more sharp thrusts, he spilled inside of you, flooding you with warmth. As you caught your breaths, he cupped your jaw and turned your head towards his to pull you into a searing kiss, still full of passion just like the first.
You were almost boneless, sinking into the kiss and his arms. “Bed,” you murmured, resting your head against his shoulder when he released your jaw. “Now.”
John clicked his tongue as he slid out of you. A mix of your arousal begin to leak down your leg. You flinched when his hand cupped your sex to stop anymore from escaping.
The action felt more possessive than anything else—something you weren't used to. Interest stirred in you once again.
#john price x reader#john price smut#cod smut#cod x reader smut#cod fanfic#cod x reader#john price fanfiction#mw2 fanfic#captain john price#cod mwii
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Ooh how about a Ranger!Tav who hunts undead (like Vampire Lords 👀) x Astarion?
This is the ultimate monster-hunting duo! Though, Rangers are known to be a bit lame in DnD. If it isn't their favored terrain or favored enemy - they are fucked up.
And Tumblr ate the first rough draft, which caused me some psychic damage.
What if Ranger!Tav is a member of some party of heroes, like "Vox Maquina"? And just can't wait to reunite with their former companions?
Masterlist
Headcanons
Astarion x Ranger!Tav
You never had a chance to talk about your future together. It's not like any of you expected to survive and not be turned into Mindflayers.
When Astarion runs away from the sun, you rush to find him but lose track.
Cities aren't your favored terrain.
Astarion returns to the Elfsong Tavern three days later - he looks like a beaten stray cat.
You cuss him. Use all the known slurs.
Why didn't he come back the first day? Why did he disappear?
You thought he'd died! Burnt to ashes!
He is shocked.
He has never thought his actions could hurt you. He thought you would be better without him.
You drag Astarion to the bathroom, and, while helping him scrub himself, you finally start talking about your own past.
Something you never really mentioned before.
You have home.
Rather a home base but still home
You have a family.
Rather, a group of weirdos who happened to meet each other years ago and call themselves the Brotherhood of Shadows.
Yes, the name was chosen by a Bard. No one had better suggestions, but you know it's stupid.
There is also a Fighter, a Bard, a Cleric, and a Sorcerer. Together you hunt monsters, bad guys, and protect the common people.
You know, eat the rich and distribute their money among the poor.
And you are coming back.
Astarion is hesitant. He isn't ready to share you. And what if those friends of yours won't accept him?
What if years of friendship are a counterweight to this month of passionate love?
They are monster hunters! Monster hunters don't accept monsters at their homes.
What if one of them is in love with you?
But you still ask him to give it a try.
Astarion prays to all the gods to make the journey as long as possible.
Deep within, he knows he will lose you.
Suddenly, he notices a raven, circling above you.
"Black Death!" you exclaim, stretching out your hand.
"It's my pet raven, Black Death. Black Death, this is Astarion".
"Death, death, death," repeats the raven, staring at Astarion.
Then the raven soared into the sky and disappeared.
The next day a Half-Orc Sorcerer rushes toward you, yelling "Tav! Tav is that really you?!"
Astarion stands aside, feeling like a fifth wheel, while you and your old friend share news.
"Listen about this man with me…"
"A vampire? So, you've rejected all the men who ever dared to approach you, including myself, and found yourself a vampire?"
Astarion feels a wave of anger. He already doesn't like your friends.
But the next moment, the Half-Orc stands in front of him, friendly insisting on joining the Brotherhood.
"Besides, I can't believe there have been so many wild bloodsuckers in these woods. It's good to have a vampire of your own to deal with them, am I right?"
Apparently, no one objects to a vampire in their small army of weirdos.
Or maybe they love Tav so much they are ready to accept anyone she brings along.
"Sign me up for the next Mindflayer's attack. I want to get a man, too!" the Cleric jokes.
Astarion sleeps in your room. When the Brotherhood leaves at daylight, Astarion stays to keep an eye on the homebase.
And he talks to possible contractors, demanding to be paid more than they expect.
He is insufferable in the best meaning of this word.
Astarion makes friends.
He often talks about magic and history with the Sorcerer. Or arguing with the Bard ( they have so much in common it pisses them both off)
Astarion feels at home. He has family, he has friends, he has a person to love and hold.
Even Black Death accepts him as his master, though Astarion isn't always capable of communicating with the bird.
Often, you go on night walks together into the woods, an, since you are both horny as nine hells, it often ends not as expected.
You are switches - both hunters and both prey.
Sometimes Astarion "hunts" you - a murderous vampire chasing a helpless Ranger to subdue to his power and hunger.
Then it's your turn - you are a monster hunter, and no vampire has ever escaped you.
Even the Bard calls you freaks when you return at sunset both covered in dirt (and, probably, other fluids under your clothes).
Astarion cares about you deeply - always making sure you are healed before you embark on another adventure.
And he is the one who nurtures you if you are sick or wounded.
He likes being a hero. He likes being a caregiver, both roles he once despised.
--
Tag list
@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#astarion romance#bg3#astarion bg3#astarion headcanon#baldurs gate 3#astarion headcanons#astarion x tav#astarion x f!tav#tav x astarion#spacebarbarian headcanon#astarion x gn!tav#astarion x gn reader#astarion x reader#dnd#baldurs gate astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion baldurs gate#astarion brainrot#astarion fanfiction#astarion fluff#astarion imagine#astarion x female reader#dnd ranger#oc tav ranger#ranger tav
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Magic Item Idea
12ft Magic ladder
Description: A magic 12ft ladder that you can make appear from thin air when facing a 10ft or higher wall.
Functionality: You can roll a number of d4 equal to your level to make the ladder higher.
Inspiration: this meme ⬇️
#d&d#d&d 5e#dnd stuff#dungeons and dragons#d&d ideas#dnd homebrew#dnd5e#d&d 5th edition#dnd#d&d homebrew#dnd memes#dnd item#d&d items#d&d memes#dnd magic object#dungeons and memes#bc
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Hi there, I got started with ttrpgs after dnd 5e came out so I don't have any personal experience or strong opinions about 4e. Would you be willing to share some of the things that were different in that version that you enjoyed?
So okay with the caveat that there isn't a single edition of D&D I don't enjoy to some extent, this isn't really a "list of reasons why D&D 4e is objectively better than any edition of D&D ever," but more like "list of features of D&D 4e where I feel it distinguishes itself from other editions":
As much as D&D has always been a combat-focused game, where characters usually have to at some point rely on violence, D&D 4e is the one edition where combat has felt the most tactically engaging and where there are sometimes genuinely tough tactical decisions to be made. Part of the beauty of D&D 4e's combat is down to a very simple fact: combat isn't quite as swingy as in other editions, where a couple of lucky rounds can either make or break the combat in the characters' favor. If you lose in D&D 4e it's usually not the result of a single bad turn, but multiple turns' worth of bad decision-making and bad luck. There's nearly always a way for players to turn around a combat that's going badly. While I also enjoy the extremely lethal and swingy editions of old on the macro level, combat in them isn't as tactically satisfying as in 4e to me (but on the flipside, combat being very quick and dirty is definitely a benefit of those systems).
I genuinely feel that it does class balance better than any other edition of D&D. Class balance has always been tough in D&D: you've either had artificial balancing like "start Magic-Users weak and have them advance slower, but once they survive to higher levels they become extremely strong," or just poorly thought out "I guess one of the Druid's class features is having an extra character that's a bear and almost as strong as a Fighter, and the Druid can summon more bears while turned into a bear." That isn't to say that it's perfect: some classes had their growing pains (Warlocks weren't great to begin with, Avengers were good but not great) and some classes did outshine others (I'm not sure if this was ever the consensus, but I always got the vibe from discussions that Fighters were probably the best Defender), but it was very hard to build a character who could overwhelm an entire party or play rocket tag while everyone else was still playing D&D.
Many of the additions and changes to the lore and cosmology of D&D were welcome to me. I liked reframing the cosmic conflict as gods vs elemental primordials, as it felt like a return to the Law vs Chaos conflict of old. I liked the idea of devils as corrupted angels, punished for deicide, which also made them a great mirror to demons that in 4e were technically corrupted elementals! It basically turned the Blood War into a dark reflection of the ongoing conflict between order and chaos (as represented by the gods and the primordials)
The Warlord is such an amazing class. It is genuinely my favorite thing to come out of 4e, and the fact that it was never brought into 5e is actually the worst thing the designers of 5e ever did, even though they explicitly promised the return of every class that had ever been featured in the first PHB of the game.
Of all the WotC D&Ds it had the simplest and most intuitive action economy. Standard, Move, Minor. You get one of each. Standard action can be traded in for a Move or Minor action. Move action can be turned in for a Minor action. It's hilarious to me how simple it is and how 5e in trying to simplify it further by making movement something you have every turn by default and making bonus actions a separate thing ended up making the action economy more complex with its various if: then statements about when you're allowed to use a specific bonus action and how sometimes a bonus action you've used can limit the actions you can take.
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[ID: a banner that reads "immigration sale" in large light letters, with "8 games 40 - 60% off" in smaller light text. the background is a home's porch with a rocking chair, with a light brown translucent text box over it. end ID]
HEY YALL I'M DOING A SALE
so my little brother @hmooncreates and his partner @paladinbaby are working to move in together!!! faun does not live in america and the visa application is Not Cheap so im having a sale to help out!!!
the goal is $150 but literally anything is awesome!! all proceeds will go straight to paying for the visa application
the sale includes some big games!! if youve seen my sales before, you'll be familiar with:
little shepherd, little spy: a solo or duet journaling game where you are a spy in the fairy war, delivering messages through your spy ring through coded messages in the books on your bookshelf
dead mans hand: a solo storytelling game where you travel around the weird wild west learning peoples stories through a poker hand oracle system
little celestial fieldwork guide: a solo or multiplayer city exploration photography game where you use tarot cards to get hints as to what objects little spirits are hidden as to catalogue them for your research
familiar field trip: a competitive multiplayer game where you are all witches' familiars causing havoc in the village, teaming up or betraying each other to get the most mischief points
some BRAND NEW GAMES that have NOT been on sale before are:
shadow/giant: a duet game where one player is a gruff, jaded adult and the other player is the magical child now under their care
the graveyard game: a solo journaling game where you interview people to write an ethnography of a magical, haunted graveyard
with breath & sword: a solo journaling game where you gear up and fight monsters in order to calm down from real-life anxiety, using grounding methods and breathing techniques
the narrator paradox: a solo narrating game where you have to wrangle your protagonist into listening to the story you're trying to tell and not defying the narrative
each game 40% off or get all 8 for only $18!!!
also check out hollis's fundraising sale with a zine and dating sim inspired ttrpg (its so so fun) and faun's fundraising sale commissions (theyve drawn most of the art for my dnd game theyre amazing)
checking the games out and spreading the word so appreciated!!! thanks yall!!!
#indie ttrpgs#solo journaling game#multiplayer games#itch sale#SPREADING THE WORD SOOOO APPRECIATED THANKS YALL
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I've pulled a Callum Crown and Dial-Up'ed these fellas. Had this in my head for awhile and now I've drawn the scrybes if they were in the DT universe.
Grimora has an old typewriter for a head, of course, while running a small shop involving ghoulish items and even presenting pre-dial up collections for educational purposes. She would definitely get along with Gabby from the Phone Antique Shop down the street, have a nice cup of tea with the woman. She used to write obituaries back in the day, using both her head and quill to edit the papers, yet she moved onto opening her own shop as time passes by.
P03/Poe made designed its own monitor head fit to his needs, one of them being customizing icons to indicate who is currently fronting as he has DID. His prosthetic arm is actually Crown brand as he used to admire Callum Crown for a bit before working on his own things, owning a workshop to fix up tech and make his own gadgets. The stickers on his electric wheel chair were mostly from G0lly and even Unfinished Boss (the scratched doodles on the side of the chair.)
Leshy is, of course, the Leshy. How did the Dial-Up get to build a camera head onto his shoulders? Same reason how they managed to get BIGFOOT to have an object head during the Dial-Up. You know what they say: "If they could get Bigfoot to have an object head, they could definitely get Forest Peepaw". His camera head has some overgrowth there- which is good.
Magnificus has an antique rotary phone head he had customized in the past to his own liking. He is a street artist and also a hobo, yet still respected as an aspiring artist since he used to be quite the famous painter back in the days. He takes his current life as a boring yet deserved break but people refuse to leave him alone, wanting to know more about his works and most importantly the rumors of his past career. He has three fans who constantly approach him and ask numerous questions along with his criticism towards their own works.
Lonely Wizard, Pike Mage, and Goobert are huge wizard fans who have DnD sessions every now and then- hence the wizard hats. LW has a magic 8 ball for a head and is often known for its little performances involving singing and dancing, theater kid and whatnot. Pike has a Pike Weapon for a head which does raise the question if she's from the Dialtown Mob or not, often found talking to other weapon headed folks. Goobert has more of a rotary phone but shaped as a paint palette, having tried to customize his own head to match Magnificus' but it didn't turn out super well, he's an art student trying to paint.
Luke Carder has a Camcorder for a head, reflecting his career as a youtuber. Nothing has changed much as he's still the same guy who opens card packs.
Kaycee has a Floppy Disk Drive as a head and is also an indie game developer, she's doing her best in this dumpster fire of a town. Hah. Get it? Cause-- yeah.
More to come involving these AND working on Scrybing the Dialtown folks- making them Inscryption themed >:]
#ZCArt#Fanart#Inscryption#Dialtown#InDialtown AU#Leshy#Grimora#Magnificus#P03#Lonely Wizard#Pike Mage#Goobert#Luke Carder#Kaycee Hobbes#Digital Art
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Actually b4 I sleep:
I see in the bg3 arguments (carried over from ppl rules lawyering 5e too hard) that if a character wants to do something it is unethical or “gross” to use persuasion rolls to convince them out of it. Examples: that you should let Astarion ascend because he wants to, or let Shadowheart become a dark justiciar because “it’s all she’s ever wanted”
These arguments are stupid.
Normally I don’t go hard on the “this is a stupid argument” bc most of the time complex moral situations require nuance and you shouldn’t try and call ppl stupid for differing perspectives but. No this one is stupid.
Persuasion rolls are not magical mind control. They are literally using the force of charisma (whole other conversation but again it isn’t mind control) to talk about something to a character and have them see it from different perspectives. High rolls are not you overriding their will power or decision making—if they rly didn’t wanna, they wouldn’t do it. You can do this for objectively horrible end goals, but also good ones.
Not to gamify real life tragedies but IRL, talking someone down from a suicide attempt would be a charisma roll (I’ve been suicidal so I’m using this example). The person really “wants” to kill themselves—or at least, they really think they do. This isn’t a choice made in a vacuum. Ultimately people want to die when they think there is no way out of their problems be it bad mental health, abuse they’re constantly subjected to, insane amounts of debt they feel they’ll never be able to pay off, social isolation, grief, and so on. It can be a combination of factors, but really what they ACTUALLY want is a solution to the problems that are overwhelming them and making them feel like being alive is worse than being dead. Talking someone down from suicide is not a BAD thing to do. In fact it would be morally bad to go “well we have to let people do what they want. Go for it man here’s a loaded gun and some pills”. But you have to persuade them to help them. Because they’re in a really dark place and can’t see reason.
Shadowheart was raised in a cult. She doesn’t actually want to be a dark justiciar, she wants to feel accomplished and like she belongs. She has been punished, isolated, and hurt her whole childhood and had her suffering justified by those in power above her. She’s been abused and told being a dark justiciar is the best thing a sharran can be. That it is the height of Shar worship. And that Shar took her in and “loved” her when “no one else wanted her”. Her ideals and goals are built upon lies and abuse. You, as an outsider, can give her that perspective and tell her that no matter how hard it gets she is worthy of love and can uncover the lies used to cover up and erase her past. She is just so narrowed in on what she thinks is “right” based on what she’s grown up with that she is not thinking for herself, she’s falling back on cult doctrine to think for her.
Astarion “wants” to ascend because he wants to feel like no one can ever hurt him again. He wants to spite Cazador. He wants to feel safe. And not worry about burning in the sun too. But are those things worth your actual fucking soul and your ability to love and connect with other people? No. Astarion doesn’t actually want the power, he doesn’t actually want to rule the world, and this power will not actually keep him safe. He has mistaken power for freedom because of 200 years of abuse and also was almost killed via human sacrifice like a minute prior (turns in dnd are only 6 seconds). He isn’t exactly thinking rationally give he’s been free for a week and nearly died a few seconds prior. He’s running on base instincts. He’s leaning into the lies Cazador has drilled into his head: the weak suffer because they are weak and the only way to be safe is to be the strongest person around. But this is an ideology that isn’t true. Cazador wasn’t safe. He wouldn’t have been safe even ascended. Astarion won’t be either. It’s literally a Faustian bargain and the game hits you over the damn head with it multiple times. Talking him out of it means you to see Astarion for who he is: as a person beyond his abuse and what makes him useful or not.
Hell, on a smaller level, Wyll wanted to kill Karlach. You can find out very easily though that she’s not actually a bad person, it’s just a technicality of Wyll’s contract. Or are you gonna say Karlach is manipulative and immoral for telling the truth and pleading for her life??? Because it’s getting in the way of what Wyll wants to do! Mizora told him she’s heartless! He’ll suffer if he doesn’t! Gale wants to blow himself up and thinks it’s the right choice, better miss out on all of act 3 because why are you trying to convince him out of it???
You can still ofc make different choices in any storyline bc this is s video game I’m not here to tell you what you can and can’t do. Just arguing “actually it’s morally bad that I have to roll persuasion—“ is a dumb argument I need people to stop making.
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So new headcanon is that the Emperor enjoyed playing tricks on other psykers just because he could.
Background: in my current DnD session, we are randomly followed by the equivalent of the Emperor. Bro is our ally and will poop out of nothing just to see what we're doing. We have one wizard with us, and she can see magic - so she can understand when someone is a magician like her or when an object is magical. She can literally see the colors and lights of magic.
Basically, last time we were surrounded by a lot of stuff, many of which were magical objects so she wanted to have a better look. The Emperor0.5 noticed and literally released his aura so that she could only see light everywhere - in the end she could not say which object was magical and which one wasn't.
#when we first met him he played a trick and nearly made her go blind#just because#hes a idiot#but still a good hero idiot#emperor of mankind
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