Mr. Caramel Will see you Now

[neopastel-dreams-deactivated201]

ABCs of your OCs

a list of oc questions in alphabetical categories - i made each category based on the first word I could think of in alphabetical order, so enjoy!

A: Aptitude 1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young? 2. what activities have they participated in? 3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for? 4. what things are they bad at? 5. what is their most impressive talent?

B: Basics 1. what is their hair color? 2. what is their eye color? 3. how tall are they? 4. how old are they? 5. how much do they weigh?

C: Comfort 1. how do they sit in a chair? 2. in what position do they sleep? 3. what is their ideal comfort day? 4. what is their major comfort food? why? 5. who is the best at comforting them when down?

D: Decoration 1. how would they decorate a house if they had one under their name? 2. how would they decorate their child’s room? 3. how do they decorate their own room? 4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear? 5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends?

E: External Personality 1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality? 2. do they do things that conform to the norm? 3. do they follow trends or do their own thing? 4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads? 5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?

F: Fun 1. what do they do for fun? 2. what is their ideal party? 3. who would they have the most fun with? 4. can they have fun while conforming to rules? 5. do they go out a lot?

G: Gorgeous 1. what is their most attractive external feature? 2. what is the most attractive part of their personality? 3. what benefits come with being their friend? 4. what parts of them do they like and dislike? 5. what parts of others do they envy?

H: Heat 1. do they rather a hot or cold room? 2. do they prefer summer or winter? 3. do they like the snow? 4. do they have a favorite summer activity? 5. do they have a favorite winter activity?

I: In-the-closet 1. what is their sexuality? 2. have they ever questioned their sexuality? 3. have they ever questioned their gender? 4. would/was their family be okay with them being LGBT? 5. how long would/did it take for them to come out?

J: Joy 1. what makes them happy? 2. who makes them happy? 3. are there any songs that bring them joy? 4. are they happy often? 5. what brings them the most joy in the world?

K: Kill 1. have they ever thought about suicide? 2. have they ever thought about homicide? 3. if they could kill anyone without punishment, would they? who? 4. who would miss them if they died? 5. who would be happy they died, anyone?

L: Lemons 1. what is their favorite fruit? 2. what is their least favorite fruit? 3. are there any foods they hate? 4. do they have any food intolerances? 5. what is their favorite food?

M: Maternal 1. would they want a daughter or a son? 2. how many children do they want? 3. would they be a good parent? 4. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter? 5. would they adopt?

N: Never Have I Ever 1. what would they never do? 2. what have they never done that they want to do? 3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do? 4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done? 5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do?

O: Optimism 1. are they optimistic or pessimistic? 2. are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others? 3. are they good at giving advice? 4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them? 5. were they always optimistic?

P: Personality 1. what is their best personality trait? 2. what is their worst personality trait? 3. what of their personality do others love? 4. what of their personality do others envy? 5. do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities?

Q: Questions 1. do they ask for help? 2. do they ask questions in class? 3. do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable? 4. do they ask weird questions? 5. are they curious?

R: Rules 1. do they follow rules? 2. would they be a strict or laid-back parent? 3. have they ever been consequenced for breaking a rule? 4. have they broken any rules they now regret breaking? 5. do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous?

S: Streets 1. are they street-smart? 2. would they give money to someone on the streets? 3. have they ever gotten in a fight on the streets? 4. has anything happened to them on the streets? 5. are they cautious when out?

T: Truth 1. are they honest? 2. can they tell if someone is lying? 3. is it obvious when they’re lying? 4. have they lied about anything they regret lying about? 5. have they told truths that have been spread against their will?

U: Underdog 1. have they been bullied? 2. have they bullied anyone? 3. have they been physically attacked by a bully? 4. have they ever been doubted? 5. have they surprised people with being good at something?

V: Vomit 1. do they vomit often? 2. do they get lots of stomach aches? 3. are they good at comforting someone ill? 4. what do they like as far as comfort goes? 5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting?

W: Water 1. do they drink enough water? 2. have they learned to swim? 3. do they like to swim? 4. can they dive? 5. can they swim without holding their nose?

X: Xylophone 1. what is their favorite genre of music? 2. do they have a favorite song? 3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer? 4. can they sing well? 5. can they rap?

Y: You 1. how old were you when you created them? 2. what inspired you to create them? 3. were they different when they were first created? 4. do you enjoy writing them more than other characters? 5. what’s your favorite thing about them?

Z: Zebra 1. what’s their favorite animal? 2. do they like animals? 3. cats or dogs? 4. what’s their dream pet? 5. do they have any pets at the moment?

[pristinepastel]

please guys??

[risrielthron]

[writing-prompt-s]

Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.

[sadoeuphemist]

Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.

“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”

The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.

“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”

“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”

The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”

Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”

“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”

Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.

“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”

“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?” 

The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.

A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer. 

“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”

“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”

“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”

The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.

And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.

Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.

“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”

“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”

“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.

“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”

“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”

And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.

[sameenbyhat]

Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.

“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.

“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”

Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.

“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”

“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.

“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”

Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.

“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.

“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.

“What?” the god asked.

Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”

[stu-pot]

Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to be empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.

The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.

He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.

So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.

“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.

The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.

“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.

“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”

“No,” Arepo smiled.

“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”

“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.

“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.

“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”

The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”

“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”

[probablyadragon]

I’m not crying, you’re crying.

[krxs100]

YA’LL....

Mainstream Media Now Openly Reporting on the Elite Lining Up to Ingest the Blood of Children…. Seriously

Once the talk of conspiracy theorists — the rich ingesting the blood of the young to foster longevity — is now a reality and an actual business in the United States. Not only is it a business but billionaires are actually admitting their interest in it. Now, even the mainstream media is reporting it.

Peter Thiel, the billionaire co-founder of PayPal and adviser to Donald Trump told Inc. magazine:

“I’m looking into parabiosis stuff, which I think is really interesting. This is where they did the young blood into older mice and they found that had a massive rejuvenating effect. I think there are a lot of these things that have been strangely under-explored.”

As Vanity Fair reports, Ambrosia, which buys its blood from blood banks, now has about 100 paying customers. Some are Silicon Valley technologists, like Thiel, though Karmazin stressed that tech types aren’t Ambrosia’s only clients and that anyone over 35 is eligible for its transfusions.

Aside from the gruesome historical and occult background of such practices, there is literally NO DATA that suggests the process even works.

“There‘s just no clinical evidence [that the treatment will be beneficial], and you‘re basically abusing people‘s trust and the public excitement around this,” Stanford University neuroscientist Tony Wyss-Coray, who conducted a 2014 study of young blood plasma in mice, told Science magazinelast summer, as reported by Vanity Fair. 

#STAYWOKE

[scattered-to-the-winds]

Things I did not expect to see ushering in the new year: Vampires

[littlemisspipebomb]

2019 is off to a start and a half

[caramelclimax]

I have watch enough Supernatural and Played enough World of Darkness to know where this is going 

[dirtypolygonconfessions]

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Party is investigating a murder and just ran into an NPC who was directly involved. Most of this is ooc.

DM: Okay so- I’ve practiced a little on the accent I wanna give this guy so like work with me here I suck at accents but whatever ok here goes: “whot? Who ze hell aa juu-”

Cleric: PFFT

Paladin: WHAT

Ranger: I dunno what that was even supposed to be

DM: yeah yeah alright I get it. I was going for French.

Cleric: is there France in this univers-

DM: NO but why the heck can’t there be a language that sounds a bit like it?

Ranger: i am not being mean when I say that was more Russian than anything else.

Paladin: he’s from FantasyFrussia.

DM: (out of sheer spite) fuck you guys I’ll keep doing my great French accent “who ze hell aa yoo-”

Paladin: “ahh da, da, comrade”

Ranger: “dat is wonderful, yes? Fellow Frussian, privet”

DM: FUCK YOU GUYS YOU TRY AND HANDLE 10000 NPCS AND COME UP WITH COOL AND DISTINCT VOICES FOR ALL OF THEM

Ranger: Niet. Dasvidanya.

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Nat 1 for waterboarding

Context: My players had just washed up on the shores of an island inhabited by a strange cult, who were there to capture them as they arrived. The party killed the cultists, and took their leader to interrogate. The knight (Battlemaster fighter) decided to helm the interrogation attempt.

Fighter: Who are you working for?

DM: Roll intimidation

Fighter: *Rolls Nat 5*

DM: The cultist leader spits in your face and laughs, saying he will tell you nothing.

Fighter: I cut off a finger.

DM: Roll intimidation with advantage.

Fighter: Nat 4 and Nat 3.

DM: The man screams, but eventually grits his teeth and tells you nothing.

Fighter: I cut off another finger.

DM: You can’t chop off all of his limbs until you get a good check.

Fighter: Technically they’re appendages. Can I cut off his hand?

DM: I wouldn’t give you another roll for it.

Fighter: We’re on the ocean right?

DM: Yes?

Fighter: I’d like to waterboard him with his own robes.

DM: Jesus. Alright, roll intimidation for waterboarding.

Fighter: Rolls Nat 1.

DM: So this poor man’s hands get loose from about the ten minutes of waterboarding, and he stabs himself with a dagger to end the pain, so you can’t find new ways to fail intimidation checks.

[caramelclimax]

@probablyadragon

[mjalti]

if he’s wearing one of these

don’t entertain that demon. don’t open his texts or anything. just leave with ur peace of mind intact.

[suupersushi]

Alright y’all but what is SHE’S wearing one of these

[mjalti]

ur getting the strap

[probablyadragon]

@caramelclimax I feel offended on your behalf

[caramelclimax]

@probablyadragon @mjalti nah there right on the chain thing, my chain is different however

Mine is a figaro chain which is more a religious thing

[everybody-loves-to-eat]

BACON WRAPPED HOTDOG W/ FRIES & CHEESE🌭 from @dirtdoglv 

video by:  grubspot

[probablyadragon]

@theworldisacrucible @scrap-cat @caramelclimax

[caramelclimax]

@probablyadragon @theworldisacrucible

[kitanaay]

[probablyadragon]

@caramelclimax

[imouta-deactivated20181021]

todd howard used to go to my school so today I went to the library and found his yearbook pic

[cygames]

this kid could have ran for presidency if he wanted to but he dedicated his life to making skyrim

[hansolostrickedoutweedvan]

This is why every major questline in Skyrim ends up with you as head of an organisation. Todd just thinks its normal to be the leader of 8 things

[durbikins]

Damn, he lied about being in the chess club too?

[probablyadragon]

THIS FUCKBOI WENT TO SCHOOL IN EMMAUS?! FUUUUUUU

[caramelclimax]

Fucking Weird bro thats hes from our neighborhood  

[kabaks]

i just started the young pope and i know fuck all about catholicism but i gotta say. lenny has the most potent bde

[kabaks]

[kabaks]

i am SCREAMING

[kabaks]

[idimmadontgiveashit]

When a rogue bluffs his way into being a cleric

[explainervideo]

What happens to cats in zero gravity ?   more educational gifs«

[voidbat]

OH GOD THOSE POOR BABIES i am sobbing i am laughing so hard

[moonlightandmarble]

In the last pic the cat is all “oh thank god I found ground NO WAIT COME BACK GROUND”

[sonneillonv-deactivated20220218]

THOSE POOR BABIES OMG WHY AM I LAUGHING AT THIS

[sharkpilot]

Astronaut: We need to fund 1.4 billion dollars. NASA: FOR WHAT?! Astronaut: We want to put kitties in space and have them float around in zero gravity. NASA: Here is all the money. God bless.

[cyanhyena]

Those cats are just ?????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!????!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!

[thecybersmith]

Cat: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

NASA: fascinating…

[stiwfssr]

[yourplayersaidwhat]

*the enemy hits our bard on her hip*

Bard: OI! Watch out! Thats my third best attribute, behind my tits and my sparkling personality!

[mooretimetoplay]

Just saw this on Twitter. An awesome idea for players who are stuck and for DMs to foster more involvement from your party in the world. @probablynpcrpgideas

[solivar]

The Storypath system actively encouraged this sort of gameplay as part of its core design.

[wilwheaton]

This is amazing.

[theartofanimation]

inputwo  -  https://inputwo.tumblr.com  -  https://www.patreon.com/inputwo  -  https://twitter.com/inputwo  -  https://www.pixiv.net/member.php?id=12875437  -  https://www.instagram.com/inputwo

[probablyadragon]

@caramelclimax @theworldisacrucible

[caramelclimax]

@theworldisacrucible @probablyadragon

BOOOOTTTTTYYYYYYY

[caramelclimax]

@theworldisacrucible