I’ve heard a lot of interpretations of ability scores.
The most common of these is “Charisma correlates strongly to good looks”, which is incorrect and tends to irritate players of low-Charisma characters, but anytime there’s something the stats don’t cover explicitly (like weight and build), we try to draw conclusions about them based on the hard numbers we have.
The problem is that this still leave a lot to interpretation.
What’s the actual strength difference between a person who can lift 80 pounds and a person who can lift 100 pounds?
How tough is a bard with Constitution of 14, really?
What does it mean for my character when I roll poorly and have to drive the 3-Charisma barbarian?
I put together this list a few years ago to try to put this in simple language.
Below are some quick descriptions of every stat, from 1 (a modifier of -5, or as low as a character can get without being undead or a construct) to 25 (a modifier of +7, or as high as a PHB character can get without magic):
I knew SJM was going to heal Chaol. It’s the entire premise for the book, so of course she would. I just had no idea it would feel like this.
I know I made a vague post about Tower of Dawn, but then I tried to go to sleep and realised I was still pissed so here’s a detailed account of what the phrase “get up” means to me, an actual disabled person, rather than SJM, an abled person who decided to write a disabled character being healed by nothing but those two magic words.
So here’s what get up means to me:
It started with sleeping in. It got harder to wake up every morning. My parents were convinced that I just wasn’t motivated enough, so they kept telling me to (guess what) get up. Because that’s what you say to a moody teen that won’t get out of bed, right?
Then, I started falling asleep in class. I developed a rash over my legs that made walking painful, and the pain felt like it seeped into my bones over time, leaving my legs painful constantly. I walked oddly, stiffly, around the house and at school, and it aggravated a knee injury I had from a car accident 3 years prior, one that I thought had healed within 2 months of the accident. I was wrong, and I’ve continued to be wrong to this day. The rash healed, but my knee did not.
Eventually, I stopped going to school. I tried multiple doctors until I found one that my mother liked. This doctor seemed to believe that I should be woken at 7am every morning, come hell or high water. She misdiagnosed me with an autoimmune disease (easy to do, given that CFS bears striking similarities in some cases) and subsequently viewed my chronic fatigue as a symptom of a greater problem, one she could treat with vitamins, antidepressants, a better diet, more sunlight, etc, etc.
She was wrong.
I, being 14, didn’t get to say that she was wrong. I didn’t get to say that it hurt me when I went to physiotherapy under her orders and was forced onto the rowing machine. I didn’t get to say that it hurt me to do stretches sometimes, that it upset me when I was told to stop being lazy, to get up. I sure as hell didn’t get to tell my parents to stop trying to wake me up at 7am.
My fatigue grew worse. Soon, I got delirious when my mother tried to wake me, often having no memory of her waking me the first few times. She’d insist that I spoke to her when she woke me, that I acknowledged her, but I couldn’t remember. I’d wake at noon after 5 hours of being woken up every 10 minutes with no memory of being woken previously. I thought I was going crazy.
And through it all, I was told to get up.
Soon, I figured out that pain kept me awake. To stop myself from falling asleep in class and getting into trouble, I started beating my injured knee. It never bruised or bled, but it kept me awake. It helped me get up. I wasn’t to know that that would leave me with an injured knee to this day.
Soon, it escalated to me being unable to stay awake for more than 4 or 5 hours at a time. My school attendance was adjusted to only half-days, until even that grew too much for me. Sleep became painful, and I had to prop my knee up on a certain angle to keep the pain at bay for long enough to get the rest I needed, waking every time I shifted in my sleep.
Desperate, my parents and doctor cooked up a plan to admit me to a hospital for what they called “sleep therapy”. Basically, medical personnel would do exactly what my mother had, only they’d enforce a curfew, take away my laptop and electronic devices at night, force me into an exercise regimen, and, in my doctor’s words, “reset me”. After my experiences with physiotherapy, I was terrified of having no voice there.
Thankfully, we moved away at that point, and I lost touch with my doctor. Being admitted to that hospital became impossible given the distance, so I started at a new school with new kids. I had to explain my illness to every teacher I had, because none of them knew I was disabled. Apparently there’s no memo-type arrangement for that. It was mortifying. On my first day I was forced to walk the marathon track through the bush. I was 16, but I couldn’t articulate to them in a way they respected that it wasn’t just a matter of willpower, whether or not I could walk the track.
Turned out, it was. I willed myself through the track because I was embarrassed. I got through the day. Because I’m that strong and inspiring, right?
When I got home, I collapsed. I spent the next 24 hours in bed, unable to even get up to pee. All I did was take pain medication, eating when I needed to to take stronger doses. I barely remember the next 3 days after that, spending most of the time sleeping in bed, sleeping on the couch, or sleeping in the shower.
I received no apology from the school.
Eventually, I got up again. I went back. Months passed, and even though I only attended intermittently, I was soon appointed as a Student Leader. I have a loud personality, when I’m awake, so I guess they figured it would be useful in some capacity. I expressed concern about attending the student leadership training day, but was informed that I couldn’t become a student leader if I didn’t. So I went, having been assured that it was indoors.
First was a hike up a cliff. I almost fell over three times, convinced that if I did I’d never live it down. My knee gave out once, but I managed to stay upright. Several of my peers joked about me looking exhausted because I “wasn’t used to exercise”.
We sat down at the top of the hill, then. You know how, if you have an injury, it feels worse the next morning when you wake up? For me, sitting down without heat packs applied to my joints does the same thing. I’ll always hurt more when I get up.
So, sitting on the hard ground for half an hour listening to some camp counsellor talk wasn’t ideal. When it came time to leave, I knew I’d be so much worse.
It took me several tries to stand. Several people deemed it necessary to tell me to get up.
We walked back to the main house and sat inside for a while, talking. I was not provided with a comfortable chair, as they were few and far between and I was lagging behind the group. No one offered me one. I was the last to arrive, so I sat on the floor. Because that’s fair, right?
Later that afternoon, we were broken into groups for a scavenger hunt around the woods. I objected, informing a teacher that I was tired, but he told me that if I stayed in the house someone would have to stay to supervise me, and everyone was getting involved in the hunt. The same teacher that promised me there was no physical activity involved in the trip made me feel like my pain was a burden while I was trying to learn how to be a leader.
I got up.
I went through the motions of the scavenger hunt, sitting down on the ground and rocks where I could. Not because the pain would stop, but because my legs felt like jelly and the amount of time I could spend on them was decreasing. The more we walked away from the main house, the more panicked I got. What if I couldn’t walk back to the house? I didn’t have a wheelchair, or anything to help me get there. I voiced my concerns to the other members of my group, but they informed me that I was being dramatic and it was “just a little bit longer”.
I did make it back to the bus. I limped into my mother’s car at the school where we met up, and fell asleep immediately.
When we arrived home, I had to walk out of the car and into my bedroom, which was up a flight of stairs at that time. I fell over at the bottom and bawled my eyes out, practically crawled up them, and had to have food and water brought to me for 3 days afterwards.
All because they told me to get up. Get up from the ground, get up from my chair, get up the cliff–I had to do it, right?
I received no apology. I dropped out of high school a few months later.
Get up doesn’t cure disabilities. It puts us in danger. I don’t get up anymore. I roll out of bed after 12 hours of hibernation, but I don’t get up. I don’t set alarms. People don’t wake me (deliberately). Physically, I don’t really get up anymore. Not like this. Getting up for me means sitting up, tying my hair back, and getting to work on my novel. That’s getting up. Sometimes I can’t even do that.
I knew SJM was going to heal Chaol. I’d accepted that. I just had no idea it would feel like I never want to get up again.
Summary: (Y/N) is Derek’s childhood friend and each thought the other died
in the Hale house fire until (Y/N) comes back to Beacon Hills. The pair bond
again and fall in love with each other. They keep their secrets from each other
until (Y/N) finds something that reveals more than one secret…
Warning: None, just fluff
You entered the town of Beacon Hills for
the first time in a long time. The last time you had been here, the Hale House
was still standing and your best friend was still alive. You missed the Hales
when you were turned into a werewolf and your family disowned you Talia Hale
was the first to help you. She taught you how to control your werewolf
abilities and acted like you were one of her own children. Slowly, Talia had
introduced you to her family, starting with her son that was your age, Derek
Hale. You and Derek grew close and, not long after meeting, you became
inseparable, best friends. One day, Talia had sent you to go shopping and when
you came home to the mansion, all you saw was smoke. You had scavenged the
ruins, looking for any sign of a Hale being alive without success. All you saw
were bones, unable to distinguish whose bones they belonged to. You counted the
bodies. Eight meaning that three Hales were still alive. You hoped that Derek
was amongst them but, chances were, he was dead.
Now, you were standing where you had stood
many years ago. The Hale House ruins. You were surprised that untouched. It
seemed that no had entered it since you did. You shed a tear as all the
memories came rushing back, you and Derek sitting on the couch, watching a
movie. You and Derek fighting over who got the last piece of pizza. The
memories were too much. You dropped to the ground, on your knees and sobbed.
You had been crying for a few minutes now,
memories still popping up in your head when a memory you had willed yourself to
forget came up.
Come here!” A young Derek called for you.
is it Der?” You asked rushing towards him, intrigued.
over here.” He said, pointing to a small ditch, “Go grab two objects, one thing
you that anyone would think you’d like and one that means a lot to you. I’ll do
the same and we’ll meet back here in twenty minutes.” You were confused but did
as he said anyways. You both ran off to the house to get the items.
minutes later, you dashed back to the spot and saw Derek standing there,
waiting for you.
got the stuff!” You grinned, holding a necklace that Derek had given you and a
picture of your parents.
smiled widely back at you, a big brown box in his hand, “We’re going to put
both items in the box and, if one of us has disappeared. Then, we check here.
If the box is empty of the object that we love, that means we’re safe.
Otherwise…” he drifted off. “Anyways, place your things in the box.” He pushed
the box towards you. You carefully put both things there. Afterwards, Derek
placed a book that you had given him on your friendship anniversary and a small
ring. To anybody, it was just a normal ring but, secretly it was a ring that Kate
Argent had given him during their relationship. Just to make sure you told each
other which object was the one we loved and which was the one we were expected
to love. Then, Derek placed a bunch of other stuff in the box.
had buried it deep and, when you were done, Derek shot you a heart-warming
The memory faded but Derek’s smile was
engraved in your brain. Tears trailed down your face. At that time, you were
too overwhelmed with grief to remember to take the necklace. It was time, you
would know for sure if Derek Hale was alive. Slowly, you headed to the hiding
place, hope building in your chest at the chance of Derek being alive.
You stopped at the place where the box
should be buried. You dropped to your knees, eager to know the truth. You
summoned your werewolf abilities to be able to dig deeper and faster.
You only stopped when the brown box was in
your hand. Without hesitation, you opened the it. You lifted the lid, not
knowing what to expect. There was a brown plate of wood over the objects. You
were about to remove it from the box when you heard a voice clear behind you.
Slowly, you turned around and saw a group of teenagers. You looked at the one
in the middle, you immediately smelled that he was a True Alpha. You had heard
of him, he and his friends had defeated the Alpha pack amongst other beasts. You
took the cluster of teens. A banshee, a kitsune, a werecoyote and a few
werewolves. You were surprised at the odd bunch but made no comment.
They had been silent during all this time
when the strawberry blond banshee spoke, “What are you doing here? Who are you?”
“I was looking for a sign that my friend
didn’t die.” You replied.
“How were you going to discover that?” the
only human of the group asked.
“With this box, it contains objects that
will tell me if he’s alive or not, if he survived the fire.”
The True Alpha took a step closer and questioned,
You pointed at what remained of the Hale
house. “I have been waiting a long time to know the truth. I need to know if he’s
alive.” You looked down at the box in your hands.
A voice from an unseen person answered, “Trust
me (Y/N), he’s alive.”
The teens moved away from the voice and
revealed a man with black hair and blue-green eyes. You brought your eyes up to
meet his. At that sight, a smiled grew on your face matching the one his. You sprinted
over and jumped on him, engulfing him in a powerful hug. Almost instantly, his
arms were around your waist.
You buried your head in his neck and
whispered, “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, (Y/N).” he replied.
You stayed in that position for a few
minutes until you unwrapped your arms from him and, once on the ground, you
smiled, “Come on Der, we’ve got to catch up.”
He smiled back at you, grabbing your hand
and taking you back to his apartment.
Once you left, the human, who you would
discover was called Stiles, exclaimed, “Oh my God! I saw the one and only
sourwolf, Derek Hale, smile and hug
someone! Who is she and how does she have that effect on him?”
“Her name is (Y/N) (L/N) and, according to
Talia Hale, she is Derek’s unknown mate.” Peter Hale told them, making Stiles
It had been a week since you had come back
to Beacon Hills and Derek had caught you up to everything, what had happened since
you had left. Who the group of adolescents were. Everything. It turns out that you had missed out on a lot of things
since you had left.
Over the next few weeks, you and Derek had
bonded to become as close as you had once been. The whole pack could see how Derek’s
face lit up when he saw you or how he smiled a lot more now. The pack had also
warmed up to you, especially Liam. The young Beta reminded you of a younger
After a few months, every time you looked
at Derek, you felt butterflies flutter in you stomach. You knew this feeling,
you hadn’t felt it before but you knew what it was: you were falling in love
with Derek Hale. Little did you know, he felt the same.
One day, you were helping Derek clear extra
room full of boxes for you to move in when you saw a small box. Inside was
letter with your name written on the front. You opened the sealed envelope, unfolded
the piece of paper and read.
you are in possession of this letter, it means that I am dead. It may be a
month later or 15 years later since my demise but, as long you are holding this
letter in your hands it means that my son Derek is alive and that you have reunited
with him. I have left this letter in his room and got it enchanted to make it
impossible to destroy until read.
I am about to tell you will be hard to hear. But I need you to read through
this. The truth is that you are not only here because your parents rejected
you. I was the one who turned you. I did have a reason for my actions. Derek
was highly impressionable and Peter was using it against him. Making him do
things that are not for his path. Peter was always manipulative but I want
Derek to be the Alpha after me. To end his control over Derek, I had to find
someone for him, his mate. A werewolf mother always knows who is their child’s
mate and when I saw you, I knew you were Derek’s. You were my only hope but you
were not a werewolf. The only way for the mate bond to work, I had to turn you.
I’m sorry for you to discover this now, when I am dead. But it is too late I can’t
do anything about it.
sorry (Y/N), Talia Hale.
You were shocked. You had looked up to
Talia as a child because she was a strong and loving parent. Knowing she turned
you on purpose changed everything. You sat down against the wall, staring at
the paper in your hand, thoughts swimming in your mind. Your eyes scanned the
paper repeatedly, looking for something that you had missed before with no
You had not moved for ten minutes and Derek
had started to worry, he walked in the room, and saw you with tear strained
eyes in the exact same place as before. He rushed over to you, asking what the
problem was. You hiccupped slightly, trying talk in vain. You merely showed him
the letter. He took it in his hand and browsed the sheet.
When he finished reading, he looked and
took your face in his hands, “I am so sorry (Y/N), this is all my fault.” He said,
guilt written all over his face.
“It’s fine Der, it wasn’t your fault.” You smiled
“You’re wrong, it is completely my fault!”
he stared at the ground.
“At least it allowed me to meet the guy of
my dreams.” You told him, cupping his face and leveling his eyes with yours, “Read
the letter again Derek. She chose me because you’re my mate, she wasn’t wrong.”
You laughed softly.
You placed your lips over his. He
immediately responded to your action by kissing you back. Your lips molded together
passionately. He placed his hands around your waist while yours remained
unmoving on his cheeks. To you, the kiss lasted forever but, it only lasted a
few seconds. It was the best kiss you ever had. You both felt fireworks explode
in your stomachs, your lips burning and your hands tingling. A kiss with a mate
really was powerful, you could feel it now. You pulled away from each other. Your
breath erratic, your foreheads rested against each other. Derek grinned at you
and you beamed back.
“I love you” he whispered.
“I love you too Der.” You replied.
Little did you know the whole pack was
watching this moment. Hoping to find a love like yours: pure and loyal. Their
existence was only made aware when a very excited Stiles exclaimed, “It’s about
time!” followed by the rest of the pack laughing.
You both turned your heads towards the
sound and looked at the bundle of teenagers in front of you. You let out a
short giggle while Derek glared at Stiles, mad at him interrupting your moment.
Seeing this look Stiles bolted and Derek turned back to you, pressing his lips against
yours once again.
**be sure that any animal parts you are using were legally obtained! Check your local laws! Do not use human body parts, bones or teeth due to the human remains laws unless you have proper documentation and proof you legally got them!
Corresponds to: Stability, prosperity, food, feasts, money, wealth, crops, animals, home, mountains, family, fertility, strength, grounding, protection, nature, death and rebirth
Crystals: All stones and crystals relate to earth some specific ones- onyx, jade, halite, amethyst, fluorite, amazonite, emerald, hematite, jet, lodestone, malachite, peridot, serpentine, turquoise, desert rose, sandstone, geode
Metals: Lead (toxic be careful), Iron, Silver
*Plants & Trees: All plants and trees are associated to earth on some level, those more strongly attuned are - Ash, Dwarf Elm, Hawthorn, Patchouli, Vetiver, Wheat, Oats, Rice, Cypress, Ivy, Poppy, Thrift Plant, Mushrooms, Potato, Narcissus, Oak moss, Fern, Honeysuckle, Primrose, Horehound, Rhubarb, Magnolia, Mugwort, Vervain, Turnips, Onions, Carrots, Nuts (general), Roots (general), Seeds.
*research plants, herbs and trees before burning, ingesting or using on skin for some are toxic and even lethal
Animals: All 4-legged animals; Cow/Bull/Ox, Bison, Snake, Dog, Donkey, Mule, Bear, Coyote, Wolf, Deer/Stag, Elk, Owl, and Cats
Elementals and Beasts/Creatures: Giant, Gargoyle, Leprechaun, Troll, Sphinx, Gnomes, Dwarf, Faun, Goblin, Satyr, Dryad, Sylvestres and Brownies
If he looked at it objectively,
Nigel would probably allow that there was a reason cab drivers tended not to
stop for him. Six foot of glowering, tattooed Romanian was probably enough to
make even your most toughened Californian cabbie lock all his doors, let alone
the pussies who drove in this hoity-fucking-toity neck of the woods.
Objectivity was not, however, one of Nigel’s strong points, so instead he
elected to continue growling obscenities at the entire cab-driving profession
as he moved down towards the back of the bus he’d been forced to mount in lieu
of any other transport options.
“Motherfucking dick hole son of a
“Could you please refrain from
swearing until you have left the bus, please?”
Nigel swung to find the source of
the soft but direct complaint, fully anticipating a welcome chance to knock
some cheeky fucker’s face in. What he found, instead, was a face he wouldn’t
wish to see damaged by his or any other fists for all the money in the world.
Bright blue eyes, wide and innocent looking, were set in a pale, smooth-skinned
face, and set off by waves of brown hair, just coming loose from the neat,
careful shape they had been tamed into. Nigel took in the young man sitting
opposite him, the old man clothes and stiff demeanour not remotely dimming his
beauty, and immediately decided to switch from offensive to charm offensive.
He grabbed the rail above the
kid’s seat and hung off it, leaning down with a smile to say, “My apologies, gorgeous,
I didn’t realise I was being so uncouth. I’d hate to think I made you
The kid crossed his arms in front
of himself, not meeting Nigel’s gaze, and said, “I don’t like loud noises or
swearing, they make me uncomfortable. In addition, I have a very bad headache
and am not feeling very well, so I would appreciate it if you could wait until
you are further away before continuing your tirade. And my name is Adam,” he
added. “Please don’t call me gorgeous, it is demonstrably untrue and therefore
either you are mocking me, or attempting to use an endearment inappropriate for
someone you have just met.”
Nigel blinked, and then gave Adam
a slow look up and down. “Darling, I’m not sure what you see when you look in
the mirror, but from here you are very evidently the most gorgeous thing in
this whole damn state.”
At this, Adam flicked his eyes up
to Nigel’s for a fraction of a second before he looked away again. He sighed
and said, “I can’t tell if you mean what you say. Normally I would attempt to
understand, but I’m really not feeling well enough to do so today. My stop is
not far away, would you mind if we don’t talk anymore?”
“I don’t mind darling,” Nigel
grinned. He was suddenly very glad to have taken the fucking bus this once, if
it meant getting to sit next to this strange, pretty kid for a little while. “But
in return, might I sit with you, seems like all the other seats are taken.
Promise to keep my trap shut,” he added, holding his hands up as Adam narrowed
his eyes. The kid peered at him – or at least, near to him – for another
moment, then gave a curt nod of his head, and moved a little to the side to
make space for Nigel.
True to his word, Nigel didn’t
utter another syllable. He did, however, take advantage of Adam’s resolutely
front-facing gaze to look his fill. At first, he simply admired the kid’s trim figure,
his long legs and the way his surprisingly broad shoulders tapered into a slim
waist. Eventually, though, he lifted his gaze above the kid’s neck and began to
get concerned. There was sweat on Adam’s brow, and high colour in his cheeks.
He hadn’t been lying when he said he was sick.
“Adam, I know I said I would be
quiet, but you don’t look good, darling. Are you going to be ok?” The question
drew no response, and Nigel began to get truly worried at the glassy look in
Adam’s eyes. He was about to try again when the bus started to slow, and Adam
stood jerkily, swaying a little as he gathered his things. Apparently this was
his stop. Reluctantly, Nigel stood to let him past, already wondering if he
should offer to see the kid home, if that would be unwelcome to this closed off
young man. His mind was made up for him, though, when Adam fainted clean into