this is my book dungeon



That’s right! I just published another book! ‘The Adventures Of’ is a journal designed to help you record your tabletop RPG games! It’s 195 illustrated pages with room for up to 10 players and 52 campaigns (so weekly groups can document their campaigns over the course of a year! (but let’s be honest who on earth can get their group together that often amiright))

There are also places to record all your critical rolls, character ‘deaths’, major and minor NPCs (cus god knows I can’t keep everyone straight), towns and notable locations like dungeons or pirate coves or whatever, and a big ol’ epilogue section where each player can detail what happened to their character after the events of the adventure!

I really like the idea of climbing into my attic as an old woman and finding like, ten of these bad boys crammed full of notes and memories of old adventures. :.)

Thank you for reading! The Adventures Of is available on Amazon!

Okay hear me out Warrior Cats is like perfect for adapting into a tabletop RPG; after all, some of the earlier books actually HAD D&D style campaigns in them. So what I’m saying is I’m designing a Warriors D&D.


Hey weirdos, it’s YUH BOI, back at it again with the templates.

One of the biggest failings of the Tiefling, aasimar, and genasi races are how restrictive they are. The races are presented as individuals who have been affected by extra-planar forces in some way, often through their lineage, but why humans? Why not dwarves, and halflings, and goblins, and every other race? For this purpose, I think a template works way better than an actual race; just build your character as whatever race you want then tack on the flavor. Wind-Touched aarakockra? Sounds awesome. Abyss-touched orcs? Sounds like some hellboy shit. Some of these features may not be perfectly balanced or fit into every campaign, but they are fun and flavorful, which makes them A1 in my book.

Flowers and Antlers.

Part 1Part 2Part 3

It is a general belief held by the Wizarding World that only those who are pure of heart are able to perform the Patronus Charm. According to legend, one of the most famous Patronuses of all time was a lowly mouse that belonged to a young wizard named Illyius. Illyius cast the Patronus Charm while his village was being attacked by the Dark wizard Raczidian and his army of Dementors. Despite the mouse’s diminutive size, it shone with the brightest of lights, bringing the Dementors to a halt as it nimbly moved through the ranks of fleeing villagers. Enraged, Raczidian decided to enter the fray himself and tried to summon a Patronus to ward off Illyius’s mouse. However, he failed to remember that only the pure of heart can produce a Patronus, and thus, for the first time in history, it was revealed what happens when a competent but unworthy wizard or witch attempts the spell. Maggots shot out of Raczidian’s wand and quickly devoured him as they engulfed his entire body.

Harry closed the book, horrified by what he had just read; the silence in the library had never felt heavier. He didn’t know if Malfoy would ask him for help, but he wanted to be ready if he did. Harry had excused himself to Ron and Hermione by saying he would go to Madam Pomfrey for a headache potion, but instead had used his free period to do some quick research.

Malfoy had been branded with the Dark Mark, but Harry had witnessed his attempt to cast the charm last night and nothing wretched had happened; it gave Harry hope.

“I know what you did.”

Harry looked up, his eyes widening; Malfoy was standing next to him.

“W-what?” he stuttered, covering the book’s title as much as his hands allowed.

“I know what you did. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice?” Malfoy said with a raised eyebrow.

“Shit,” Harry whispered; when he’d left the Charms classroom he’d thought he’d been stealthy-smooth, like a ninja in one of those movies Dudley used to watch. “Listen, Malfoy I… I thought -”

“Thought what, exactly? Being The-Tit-Who-Lived doesn’t give you the right to search through my belongings, Potter,” said Malfoy with the poshest of accents.

Harry remembered his little burst of curiosity the night before and his jaw dropped almost to the floor.

“How did you -”

“I never leave my sketchbook under my pillow.” Malfoy bit his lip and looked around for any eavesdroppers. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep whatever you saw to yourself.”

He stalked out of the library without another word. Harry stuffed the book in his bag and followed; he couldn’t let Malfoy walk away like that.

“Malfoy, wait!” Harry grabbed him by the elbow, making him stop reluctantly. “Listen, I shouldn’t have; it was wrong, I know. I did take it and I’m sorry, but I didn’t open it; I promise.”

Malfoy frowned slightly.


“What do you mean ‘why’? Did you want me to have a look or not?” Harry frowned a tad deeper. Was this a contest to see who could scrunch their forehead the most?

“No, I mean, why are you apologizing? Why are you being nice about this?”


Harry’s heart skipped a beat; ‘because I have a massive crush on you’ didn’t seem like the right answer at the moment. He looked around as if expecting the suits of armor in the corridors would give him advice. One of the portraits, an old witch who was aiming her ear trumpet at them, gave him an encouraging nod when she realized Harry was looking at her.

“Because I want you to show me; I want you to want to show me.”

He was making a statement; Harry hoped Malfoy would understand what came with it. Malfoy swallowed hard and Harry couldn’t help noticing the slight bobbing of his Adam’s apple. Green eyes bored into grey ones; something hot ran down Harry’s spine, making the hairs on his arms stand. They inadvertently moved closer; Harry’s heart seemed to want to crawl up his throat.

“Yes,” Malfoy whispered.

They were standing so close now, their breaths ragged.


They jumped at the sound and looked around until they realized it came from the witch with the ear trumpet; she giggled quietly.

“Yes,” Malfoy repeated, recovering his composure. “I - I’d like that.”

Harry tried, but couldn’t stop a massive grin that almost reached his ears.

“We, um, we can talk about it after class, or tomorrow - whenever you want.”

“Tonight, in the Common Room.” Malfoy’s gaze drifted to Harry’s lips. “I’d like to have my arm back, Potter.”

Harry hadn’t even been aware that he was still gripping it.

“Right, of course; there you go,” he said as he almost reluctantly let go. “Tonight, then.”

“See you, Potter.” Malfoy smiled.

Harry couldn’t stop staring at Malfoy for the rest of the day: during class, in the corridors, as they entered the Great Hall.

“Harry, watch where you’re going!” Hermione said.

“Wha – oh, sorry.” He had stepped on her heel, making Hermione step out of her shoe.

“What is it with you today?” She frowned, wiggling her foot to get it in her shoe again.

“Oh, um,” he looked at the Slytherin table, catching Malfoy’s gaze. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Sorry, mate; she already has a date for the Yule Ball,” Ron joked.

“Damn, maybe next year,” said Harry, making his way to the Hufflepuff table. “So, ‘Mione, do you think it’s possible for a Dark Wizard to cast a Patronus?”

“Why? Is this for a DADA essay?” She frowned, “I don’t remember Professor Daythorn saying anything about it.”

“No, no; it’s – it’s kind of…” Harry looked to her side, making sure Ron was too busy stuffing his mouth with Shepard’s pie. “Kind of personal,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” Hermione frowned in confusion for a moment before realization hit her; Harry could swear she looked straight at Malfoy for a fraction of a second. “Oh! Well, um. Ron, I forgot my Potions book in the dungeon.”

“Agh c’mon ‘Mione, ‘m ‘bout to stah wih’ da roaf beef.” Harry never failed to be amazed by Ron’s capacity to speak with his mouth full without spitting any bits of food.

“Please, babe?” Hermione pouted.

“Fine,” Ron sighed and gulped. “Don’t let anyone near my plate; be back in a jiffy.”

Hermione waited until Ron was far enough away and then turned to Harry giving him a very McGonagall-ish look.

“Ok, let’s hear it.”

“Hear what? I just -”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Harold; I know this is about Malfoy.” Her expression softened when Harry didn’t answer. “You’re my brother and I love you, Harry; I don’t know what exactly is going on between you two, but if he hurts you I’ll flip him like a fucking omelet.”

Harry was momentarily speechless. He’d never heard Hermione speak like this, but it made him smile –and a little proud.

“That being said, Snape and Dumbledore ensured Malfoy’s soul was kept intact, and I don’t think he’s truly an evil person; I’ve always thought he tried to help you back - back in the Manor,” Harry took her hand and she squeezed back, giving him a sad smile. “We all went through hell in that place, but he was the one who lived for months under the same roof with the madman who tortured him and his parents; I think Malfoy could be able to perform the charm if he can concentrate on a happy memory, Harry, but maybe he doesn’t have happy memories at all.”

Harry was sitting on one of the couches in front of the fireplace in the Common Room; he quit trying to join his friends’ conversation as mixed memories of old quarreling and sixth year kept distracting him. Ever since he’d spoken with Hermione earlier, his mind had been a tangle of roads, all of them leading to the same destination: Malfoy.

Harry had seen him go up the stairs; he thought of following, but decided that being alone in the dorm after the moment they’d shared outside the library was quite dangerous. That was another thing he kept thinking of; Harry had never felt the same way with Ginny –not to mention Cho– and he’d barely touched Malfoy’s arm, for-crying-out-loud. And then, that night when he’d thought Malfoy and Neville were a couple… The only time he could remember being that angry was when he’d lost control of his magic and inflated Aunt –‘stop it, she’s not your Aunt’– Marge.

“Are you coming, Harry?” Ron looked at him expectantly; they were the only ones left in the common room, Harry realized.

“I’ll stay here just a tad longer, mate.”

His friend looked like he was about to question him, but merely shrugged and said his goodnight. Ron had a way of knowing when something was bothering him, and Harry had never been more grateful for it; he wasn’t quite ready to talk about this whole feelings thing and, besides, he had no idea what Ron’s reaction would be.

Harry got more nervous as the minutes passed by; would Malfoy really show up to their d- meeting? Maybe the other lads in the dorm were still awake; maybe Harry should just go upstairs and leave it for some other time. No, he should stay, give Malfoy a few minutes; he was probably just as nervous as Harry. It was five past midnight on his wristwatch. What if Malfoy had gone to the bathroom and accidentally locked himself in? Harry should probably go check. No, no; he should wait.

A light shuffling sound came from the stairs at his back; Harry felt the nape of his neck bristle. He awkwardly stood up and turned to see Malfoy in navy blue pajama bottoms and a tight –very tight— matching long-sleeved V-neck; sketchbook in hand. Harry’s fingers itched with the urge to touch pale collarbones. Thank Merlin he was still in his school robes; they were proving to be very useful at the moment.

“Potter.” Malfoy was smiling; Harry was sure Malfoy knew he looked fit as hell.

“Malfoy,” Harry responded, trying to summon the calmest expression he could manage as he sat with his hands fisted at his sides.

“I apologize for taking so long,” Malfoy said, sitting beside him at a safe distance; a whiff of cool minty freshness filled Harry’s nose.

“No, that’s quite alright. Um, listen, Malfoy, I just - about what happened in sixth -”

“Stop.” Malfoy looked directly into his eyes. “We both made the wrong decision that day. I’ve put it behind me.”

Harry was about to protest but fell silent as Malfoy determinedly opened the sketchbook and an image of a flower caught his eye.

It was a drawing of a narcissus in grey and white shades; the lines were smooth and flowing, giving Harry a sense of serenity. He was so used to the school portraits and hideous vegetable paintings at the Dursley’s that he was awestruck for a moment; he’d never seen anything like it.

“May I?” Harry asked.

Malfoy slowly passed the sketchbook over; it felt as if he was about to hand Harry a piece of his heart. Harry lightly touched the sheet, almost certain that he would feel the soft petals with his fingertips.

“Did you use magic?”

“One would think magic would give you a better result, but I’ve learned the muggle way is better; you have more control over the lines.” Malfoy watched Harry’s face intently.

Harry skimmed through pages of drawings of different types of flowers. He didn’t know the names of most of them, although he recognized a peony. When did Malfoy learn to do this? How was he so good?

He turned another page and his heart stopped.

On the page was a majestic pair of Stag antlers. The heavy contrast of dark and light created a sense of realism that made the drawing seem to pop off of the paper.

His heart began beating again with so much force that it seemed it was trying to smash its way out of his ribcage. Harry could see it beating through his chest; he could barely control his agitated breathing. Harry was afraid he might implode.

“It’s beautiful.” The words came out as a soft whisper.

Harry looked up and took in every detail of Malfoy’s face: his slightly thicker bottom lip and pronounced cupid’s bow, smooth pale skin that highlighted the pinkish tint of his cheeks, and those vivid grey eyes.


Read more on Ao3

They live in rotted trees and fens of decay. They build great cities of spider silk and woven trees. They feast on flesh with teeth like broken glass. They dance and sing in puddles of moonlight. They are as every bit wondrous as they are monstrous, for they are the Wild Elves, and they rule the Wyrd and Wild…

My alternative and significantly more “german fairy tale” style elves for my upcoming book!

Thoughts on Book X - Julian’s Route

God, Iโ€™m still a little mess after this end, but I need to get these things out before I forget them.
A few thoughts and theories about Julianโ€™s route in the new update, everything under theย โ€˜Read Moreโ€™

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Short Jokes // Draco Malfoy

hi! really love your dracoxreader stories! i have a request…i was wondering if you could do a draco x short reader? i imagine theres more interesting request.,but it would be really cool if you did one where the reader is teased for being short :) thanks!

”Want me to get you a higher chair so you can see over the table more clearly?” Malfoy snickered beside me.

“Shut it, Malfoy.” I huffed out in annoyance, crossing my arms out of frustration. Classes were becoming unbearable as the year went by. Malfoy somehow found pleasure in constantly picking on my height.

“Sorry, what? I didn’t hear you down there.” He replied back, laughing at his own joke.

“Oh how original.” I rolled my eyes. “You only said it ten times this week and it’s not even Wednesday.”

Malfoy’s minions snickered at our banter, watching us closely as if we were a movie. 

“Learn to take jokes, Y/L/N.” He smirked, fully knowing by saying that it will aggravate me more. 

Professor Snape had announced the end of class, so I grabbed my book bag and left the dungeons as fast as I could. 

Malfoy and his minions had caught up with me at lunch and rudely asked some of the third years to move down the Slytherin table. He sat down next to me with a raised eyebrow. 

“You left class so quick, I hadn’t even noticed you were gone.” He said.

I avoided eye contact with him, focusing mainly on poking my food with a fork. 

“Oh come on Y/L/N, are you seriously taking the things I’m saying to heart?” He asked, his voice heavy with concern. 

I looked up at him and sighed. “No I’m not.”

“You know I don’t mean any harm by it. I’m just joking around.” He rolled his eyes. 

“That doesn’t make it any less annoying.” I mumbled. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll stop.” He said which caught me by surprise. 

I laughed at him. “Yeah right.” 

“Alright, I’ll try to stop.” He replied, rolling his eyes. “And for the record.” He leaned in close to me. “I like that you’re short. I find it very cute.” 

I felt my face heat up lightly as I rolled my eyes. I stood up, getting ready for our next class, Malfoy doing the same. 

“Wait, I have one more thing to ask you Y/N.” He said, grabbing his books. 


“How’s the weather down there?” 

thank you for requesting this! feel free to leave requests in my ask, i hope you liked this one and sorry that if its too short! get it? no. okay. hope you have a nice day!