tabletop props


For inktober this year I’m designing & drawing random magic items from the d&d 5E DM Guide! I’m posting them on twitter and instagram every day as I finish them, and I’ll announce on there when I’m selling the originals!

Still figuring out how/whether I’ll distribute these designs once they’re all complete, so for now, please don’t use them in your own homebrew campaigns- thank you!

Needed to let myself do something simple, and I’d been wanting to do this for a while - my Artificer’s Thunder Cannon design.

She was a researcher trapped within an oppressive mindflayer regime. She joined the Resistance because she needed to get out and go home, and when the party met her, she had just invented the Thunder Cannon prototype to aid in the liberation cause. She called it Deliverance. By the end of the uprising, after surviving the mindflayer’s crushing efforts to stop the insurgency, she was the only one of the Resistance left.

Dangerous Woman (Part 1) 🌙

A/N: Hello everyone! As promised, here is the full ‘Dangerous Woman’ smut for all of you! This is part 1 of the trilogy so look forward to more after this! Part 2 and 3 will not be related to this particular smut so every fic will be based on a different scenario! Hope y’all would enjoy this little baby of mine x

Pairing(s): Luhan x Reader

Warnings: Call-girl industry references, blowjobs, sex in general

Genre: Smutty smut ;)

Requested: No

Summary: In which drug lord! and successful CEO! Luhan goes to a particular call-girl to get his needs fulfilled.

Word Count: 6103

Soundtrack: Dangerous Woman // Ariana Grande

Originally posted by lullabyun

I wanna savour, save it for later

The taste, the flavour

As the CEO of Lu Corporations, the largest upscale drug company in Korea and China, Luhan is viewed as the typical, arrogant and loaded young businessman whom everyone assumes him to be. It’s not exactly untrue; the twenty-six-year-old drug lord basically sits on stacks and stacks of dollar bills in his Lamborghini all day long, admiring his flawless reflection in the rear-view mirror and aimlessly thinking of methods to earn even more money.

Disgustingly handsome and reeking of wealth and power, Luhan walks the world with unbreakable confidence, never seen in public without his perfectly tailored suit and his jet-black hair gelled back with a vengeance. Women clamour to be by his side, dying to look good on his arm. Yet, for some strange and unknown reason, the young drug lord chooses to remain single despite the endless stream of females queuing up to be with him.

Nevertheless, the world views him as one of the luckiest and most successful bachelors out there. Wealth, glory, power, devastatingly good looks, a smooth-running business, a diversity of women to date. What’s there for him to complain about?

Well, there is a teensy little problem for him.

With all the workload and the useless business meetings he has to attend, he barely has enough time for himself and although he might be one of the most successful young men in the country, he’s still…well, a man. And men have their needs that need to be fulfilled, don’t they?

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tygermama  asked:

Can you imagine the fit, the identity crisis, that Obi Wan would have if Anakin started acting like a mature adult? He would not be able to handle it.

LOL Obi Wan would be so confused. I mean, he’s been complaining about Anakin’s impatience and immaturity for years. Now Anakin is finally listening to him and it just feels… hollow. 

Like, recently, Anakin’s taken to setting an alarm, waking up, and making them breakfast. And Obi Wan appreciates the extra sleep now that he doesn’t have set his alarm for the crack of dawn and spend an hour or two alternately cajoling and ordering Anakin out of bed. He really does. And Anakin’s pancakes are actually super tasty. But… but Obi Wan liked the little grumbling noises Anakin made when Obi Wan shook him awake. He liked their breakfast routine, where Anakin sat in groggy petulance clutching a cup of caf as if it were his only lifeline.

Also, after weeks of vague malaise, Obi Wan realises that Anakin hasn’t commed him during a council meeting to kill a spider in nearly a month. In fact, Anakin doesn’t comm him much at all lately. It used to be that Obi Wan might hear from Anakin several times a day. Anakin would call to complain and gossip about other Jedi, to ask Obi Wan to bring home ice cream, to come back to their quarters to put a blanket on Anakin because “I’m cold master but I’ve found the perfect position on this couch and can’t get up without risking losing it forever,” to cut the crusts off his sandwich for him.

For the past month or so, Obi Wan’s comm has been mostly silent. Anakin calls to let Obi Wan know about a rescheduled troop meeting, or to ask him to give Ahsoka a tutorial on Soresu because he thinks her guard on her right side is weak, or to let Obi Wan know that a meeting with his commander/a council member/the chancellor is running over and he’ll be home late. 

And okay, yes, those are reasonable uses of his comm. Obi Wan had often complained about Anakin abusing the comm whilst Obi Wan was trying to get work done. But Obi Wan has been looking for an excuse to tell Anakin about Mace Windu’s face during Quinlan Vos’ most recent mission report all day now. 

And how could he be sure that Anakin was alright if Anakin didn’t comm him a few times over the course of the day. For all he knows Anakin cut himself taking the crusts off his sandwich and is unconscious and  bleeding out on the floor of their quarters. What if Anakin catches a cold because nobody is there to give him a blanket? Obi Wan’s desire that Anakin start comming him again is completely justified and not at all ridiculous. 

But Anakin continues not comm. Worse, neither he nor Ahsoka are at their quarters when he gets back that evening, only a note explaining that they’ll both be at an evening lecture on aeronautics. Since when does Anakin go to evening lectures without prodding from Obi Wan??!! Love Under Alderaanian Skies is on tonight. Thus, when Quinlan invites Obi Wan for a post-mission drink at a dive on the lower levels, Obi Wan accepts.

The bar is very dirty and poorly lit. Obi Wan is pretty sure he’s seen at least three drug deals and one negotiation between the leaders of major crime organizations. On the other hand, the drinks are well made, Vos is buying and the world is starting to go pleasantly hazy.

“So, you’re looking even more wound up than you normally do.” Vos said. Obi Wan blinked at him slowly.

“I- that is a lie- have you been taking to Bant? Because you cannot believe a word-”

“I could see it during the council meeting.” Vos interrupted. “You may have most of the Order fooled with your ‘calmest Jedi master ever to Jedi’ act but I knew you when you were still trying to eat crayons, Kenobi. I know your tells and right now every instinct I have is telling me that you’re a ball of anxiety.” Obi Wan slumped sideways. 

“I won’t tell you unless you get me another drink.” He hedged. Quinlan grinned smugly. Obi Wan felt the trap snap shut around him.

“Done.” Quinlan replied. “Oi, Bartender! Get this man another Cosmos.” Obi Wan put his head in his hands. He had a bad feeling about this.

Two Hours Later

“An’ an’ he doesn’t even ask me t’kill spi-spi-spi- bugs for him anymore.” Obi Wan blinked up at Quinlan mournfully. He leaning against the sticky tabletop, swaying slightly, chin propped up on his hands.

“He hates spi- bugs so much, Quin, soooo much. He doesn’wan me around. I c’n tell.” He slumped even more pitifully. Quinlan is reluctantly impressed. He hadn’t realized that such a thing was possible.

“He probab-probabily foun’ someone else to kill bugs an’ bring him blankets an’ stuff. Like Sen-sen- Padme. He probly comms her all the time now. He doesn’ need his ol’ stuffy mast’r an’more.”  

Quinlan made soothing noises. Obi Wan had long since passed the point at which he might be reasoned with. It was time to call in the big guns. He took out his comm and made a call.

Why the kark are you calling me at three in the morning, Vos?” A voice snapped. At the sound of Anakin’s voice Obi Wan perked up.

“An’kin!!!! S’nice to hear your voice. How was’ was’ aer-aero- aeronautics class? Quinaln an’ I are ouuuuutt.” He said. There was a long, telling silence on the other end of the line and then the sound of fabric rustling as Anakin struggled out of bed and into clothing. Quinlan smirked.

“Skywalker, I’m going to need you to come pick up Obi Wan.” He said.

“I swear on the Force, Vos, he’d better be in one piece when I karking get there. Where the kriff are you?” Skywalker snapped. 


The Perfect Host

(For the Bottom Hannibal event @feyestwords @cannibalcuisine )

Will wondered if it was too soon to wear the salmon colored button-down again.

He tried to remember. He had worn it recently. Maybe two dinners ago? It was his favorite fall-back because it was one of the few things he owned that was comfortable and looked nice on him. A welcome pop of color in his otherwise drab wardrobe.

He decided it was not too soon and put it on as he got ready for another dinner with Hannibal Lecter.

Will’s careful grooming was part offense, part defense. When he was done donning his armor, he felt more prepared to meet whatever was waiting for him behind those impressive oak doors. He almost convinced himself this was a character he was slipping into.


He arrived on time, a bottle of wine in his hands. As had become his custom, he walked right in without bothering to knock.

The lights inside Hannibal’s house were dimmer than usual, which was saying something. The lights in the kitchen–where Will would usually find Hannibal putting the finishing touches on dinner in his immaculate white apron–were off entirely.

“Hello?” Will called. He was sure he didn’t have the wrong date or time. He started to feel the creeping beginnings of unease as he walked into the dining room, which was lit with only guttering candles.

There was a spread waiting for him on the table.

Will felt his heart lurch. It was a tableaux to be sure. The candles were not in the center of the table but at the head of the table, at the corners farthest away from the doorway. Instead of a smooth cloth, there was a mass of fabric bunched and swathed, nearly dynamic in its arrangement with the candlelight flickering off of it.

In the center of this fabric nest was the body of Hannibal Lecter, wearing nothing but discreetly draped fabric.

Will rushed over to the side of the table to get a better look at the still form. Already his internal train of thought split down two tracks: one panicked, the other observing. He looked for blood, for injuries, his eyes darting madly over exposed skin.

“Talk to me,” he said to scene before him. “Show me your design.”

Hannibal’s eyes opened languidly.


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For today’s game I made a handout prop - the classic “distressed note”. I made it by typing the note up and printing it then crumpling it up with my hands. Then I took it and put it in a ziploc bag along with a handful of potting soil, sealed it, and mixed the two together but just rubbing the outside of the bag. This tore the paper naturally and weathered it decently enough.

The potting soil made the paper wet a bit so I left it outside in direct sunlight for about 30mins and it crisped right up ready to go.

- Mo!


Last session, we had an air ship battle. Not a battle on an airship, but a battle on a ship that happened to be in the air. The session previous to this, we thought our DM was joking when he described our boat spontaneously rising into the air. It was no joke. 

The game began with a combat on our boat, which ascended into the sky and was enveloped by an arcane vortex. The cause was quickly explained as we were addressed in a booming voice by a powerful sorcerer we had tangled with previously. His minions appeared through portals and we rolled for initiative.

This fight had some interesting and intense mechanics. Because of the vortex engulfing the ship, any movement required a saving throw to not be pulled off the deck. A second saving throw was needed to grab onto the ship. Our assailants were imbued with a visible, black aura that made them immune to this effect.

I fashioned a harness out of my gnoll lederhosen (long story) and tether myself to the ship. Our warforged paladin had some major saving throw bonuses (which fit very well thematically) so he was able to walk around freely. The monk was stuck back on land, watching the fight from the ground. And the drow rogue promptly double crit missed. 

Our DM uses a simple critical miss severity system. Upon rolling a 1, you roll again to determine how bad the crit miss was. 1 being disastrous and 20 being a regular attack.

Our rogue rolled two 1′s in a row, so naturally, he went spiraling off into the vortex. Instead of plummeting to his death however, he found himself inside the vortex with the enemies we had already pushed off the ship. This made for a unique 2 front battle. The fight on the boat and the fight flying around in the vortex. 

Ultimately, we were victorious and the ship came crashing back down. It sank shortly after. We returned to the mainland and I had an excuse to use my newly acquired TableTop Props wagon and trees. We later discovered the wagon party was associated with a Raven Queen death cult that we are off to investigate.