#rpg material

[syk2ht]

bom dia amores! trouxe um setup no estilo praiano/Moana para vocês taok, peço que se utilizarem deem o ib nos storys para @dollisois ou @syk2ht,tambem pode apenas comentar pg + seu user !

bio :

🌺 🌊 ﾉ 𝗮𝘇𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗲 puɑ lā ❘ ❙ 🐚 ꯭🌞 해 musicɑ , mɑr & 𝙼𝙿𝙱 @meuamor ⿻ hɑuʻoli. 🤍

H.names :

# 🫙’ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋.

𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗊𝗎𝗲𝗰𝗲

𝗆𝗈r͟e͟𝗻𝗮

𝗿𝖺𝗌𝕥𝗋𝗈 .

%𝗰𝖺𝗃𝗎 - 𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈

𝗏𝖾𝗿𝕒̃𝗈

[ 🥭 💡 🌱]

𝕤𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗲𝗍.

[ 𝘃𝗅𝗈𝗀 ]

[nyllora]

ℳ𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗒 – ℬ𝗂𝗈𝗌 ! 🍒

✿𝆬 𝅄 — ℐ 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗍 ✶ 𝒴ᴏ𝗎r 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ! 𝜗𝜚

⚘ — 𝒲𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖺 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝘰𝘯 𖧧 𝗺𝘆 f͟a͟c͟e͟ , 𝗂 𝒢𝗂𝗏𝖾 ყ𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗯𝘆𝗲 𝒦𝗂𝗌𝗌 . 𐙚

𓂃 ࣪ ✽ ˒ ℬ𝖺𝖻𝗒 , 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 a͟l͟l͟ 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 ! ✧

[talvez]

▅▆▇▄▃▇꯭▆▄▆▅▃▅▇▅▄▅▆▇▄▃▇▆▄▆

▊▎📵 〭 * 花朵 ⡳ ＿＿ 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚂𝙰

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[passacagliaofficial]

NEW TUOYS

[fuckmyloserbakalife]

Feel free to use !!

[prokopetz]

Like, we can quibble about merits of fidelity to the source material in principle, but in practice I have literally never encountered an "exactly the same thing except in a higher resolution" remake that actually added to my understanding of the material in any way. They just skate across the surface of my brain without leaving any lasting impression – I don't even remember them except for the bits that depart from the original, which kind of defeats the purpose of a faithful remake. I understand that there's a spectrum of fidelity in play here, but if my only choices are a beat-for-beat recapitulation and some egregious bait-and-switch meta bullshit? I'll take the second one every time.

[dare-to-dm]

I get a little miffed when I see people criticizing common scenarios in games like D&D such as killing bandits for being "violent" or "problematic" and suggesting that people can/should play D&D in a more non-violent way.

I agree that it is very possible to do and I'm cool with people playing games they own however they want to. But the reality is that most of D&D's mechanics were designed specifically with combat in mind. You look at any given class, and that's what the bulk of their abilities are for. For pretty much everything else, you have a "skills" system that functions, but is not developed with much depth. Most of the toys you get to play with are there to simulate fantasy violence. And part of the fantasy in such a game is that you can solve problems, save the day and be a hero with violence. Enjoying that fantasy doesn't make you a bad person, and if you don't enjoy that fantasy, you might be better served playing a game with a different design philosophy and priorities.

For comparison, imagine it's a hot summer day and you're watching some kids play outside. It's your job to keep them entertained, healthy and safe. So you want them to play a game that's going to get them physically active, have fun and cool off.

So you set out a big bin of water balloons and super soakers and a hose and tell them they should all get wet. If those kids pick up the super soakers and the water balloons and start shooting each other and playing war, it would be weird of you to then chastise them for simulating violence. After all, that's basically what those toys are explicitly designed to do. And sure, you could explain to the kids that they could instead choose to spray themselves with the hose or pop the balloons by sitting on them or whatever. There are definitely possible ways to use those toys that don't involve pretending to be violent. But if that's such a dealbreaker for you, you probably shouldn't have bought those toys in the first place. Like, you could have set up a sprinkler or a Slip'n'Slide or an inflatable pool instead. Choose the toys/the game that's designed for what you want.

And don't assume that just because I would relish taking someone out "execution style" with a super soaker that I would approve of the same thing in a non pretend situation.

[bananamikento]

HELLO KITTY iCONS

like/reblog if u save.

please, do NOT repost.

[lancer-pigeon]

confession: every time I close my eyes, I hope to wake up with the simulated sunrise out-of-cycle, a message flashed across the screen instead: Second Interest War Declared.

I am itching for that hostility to kick off into a war. when it happens -- and trust me, it will happen -- that's gonna be my moment: a grinding war of attrition featuring more hostile Legion infantry than anyone knows what to do with.

my red flag? peacekeeping be damned, I want that paycheck. give me a Karrakin chassis hauler in the skies over Ras Shamra and I'm never eating vent crab again.

[mossydice]

Hey gamers- so my ttrpg group consists pretty much entirely of online folk and with us thinking about running CAIN at some point I went hunting for a sheet template I could use on docs so my character would be easily shareable with my group. Couldn’t find one, ended up making one for myself, thought I’d share it in case that ends up being useful for other online only groups o7 !! The exorcist card and CAIN symbol are both direct out of the book, everything else is tables that you should be able to move around if you want stuff in different places. Link to the template here, just make a copy and fill in for your character :]

Notes: it’s definitely a desktop beast as mobile formatting breaks the layout pretty heavy, it’s readable but not very functional. Also please be nicies to me it’s my first time trying to make a sheet layout in docs ᓚᘏᗢ //EDIT: meowdy folks I have!! Updated this!! link to the new version found here. You can Absolutely still use the old version just fine hence why I'm leaving it, but the new sheet is cleaner and easier to edit to have more boxes as needed imo, and has a segment for Bonds + an optional lore page with personnel notes if you want to write out some observations from CAIN :3 enjoy!!

[kawaiinekoj]

requested | you wish you knew what's coming for you

THROWBACK !!! (avant que j'oublie vkjsnckj) un gros gros merci à @tussanuspostea et @solomonsuaire pour m'avoir confié leur bébé nel vespero migrar à l'occasion de leur onzième version!!!! ça a été un giga boost pr ma créativité (style bon gros coup d'pied au cul pour refaire démarrer la charrue, vs savez laquelle ma foi 😂🤧) et j'avoue le combo bleu nuit/vert d'eau/orange sanguine il me hante toujours autant *complimentary* 🤩🥰

❀ edits by kawaiinekoj (instagram)

credits: header and assets based on hilma af klint's altar painting, no. 1, stills from his dark materials (2019-2022), arnaiz display font by official avortic, jud regular by chokun choinw

[moniiiii112]

kuroaka hair <3 (´-`)

i have some plastic eyes at home for the haru hair ball so i'll show the results in 2-3 weeks cause im somewhere else rn

[talvez]

⠀ 𓂂 ׄ |𝇁𝄄▍꯭ 𓁻 ﾞ ᶠˡᵒʳᵉˢ ، 🌺 ׂ ✭ ,

[nullcanary]

What's the backstory behind those cool OCs?

Thank you so much for asking about them! There's quite a bit of backstory to them, but I'd love to try and paint a decent picture, especially for Kultober. Mérie and Luc are my original characters from a ttrpg called Kult: Divinity Lost. Their story spans over 30 years, so there is what was and what is. 

CW: violence, blood and injury, mentions of suicide, cults, death

30 years ago, Mérie was an undergraduate when she met Luc. They found instant companionship within one another, intrigued by each other's ideas on the strange, the grotesque, the taboo, and the undercurrent of those themes within art. What defined and defied the boundaries of *art*. How the evocative power contained within such works, extends beyond the lifetime of the artist, bringing the creator triumph over death, through visceral reaction of the viewer. They found them fascinating concepts in their youth, when loss was still a distant, faceless motif. 

They fell in love, romantically and intellectually, and eventually eloped. They had a saying between one another, their own form of ‘I love you’. Je respire pour toi = I breathe for you. The lungs a symbol of their love, instead of the heart. Animus: the soul, the intelligence, the inner self in touch with the unconscious, rooted from the word anima, “to breathe”. This is what it meant to breathe for one another. It was to share the deepest parts of their being with each other, through conversation, through passion, through dilemma. They could always listen to the other breath, watch the rise and fall of their chest, and find themselves in tune with the motion. 

They moved in with each other as Mérie continued into her graduate program. She decided to base her thesis off of the late Gui Vacquelin, an artist known for his progressively darker and nihilistic works -- his final pieces, a triptych, being completed only moments before he violently gouged his own eyes out with the brush, effectively taking his own life. Mérie was fascinated with the concepts he applied into his work and the effective immortality he granted himself in history through his final act. 

Luc was involved with a peculiar group of individuals, which he eventually introduced Mérie into. They were eccentric, lavish, hedonistic, and debaucherous. This society could pluck the strings only the wealthiest had hands for. They shared the common interest in the dark and disturbed, and often hosted opulent, yet secretive parties centered around such themes, with exclusive access to rare collections and performances for the eve. And there was apparently a deeper layer to unpeel, more powerful secrets. Mérie was allowed on the fringes of this odd group and in time, managed to prove herself of similar enough ilk that she was invited to be initiated as a full member of the society. And as a highlight, Gui Vacquelin’s famed final triptych was to be the evening's display. 

Mérie was ecstatic at the prospect, the access to the works, the connections, the secrets. It was thrilling to be in the presence of the works, to see them in the flesh. Her initiation would involve receiving a dagger, having it choose her. The excitement of the evening quickly turned to horror, as Mérie and Luc were descended upon by the members of the society, revealed in actuality to be a cult. A multitude of familiar faces turned cruel. The initiation was a ruse for a ritual to Togarini, the god of dark art. In truth, Vacquelin had been a servant of the wretched god, his paintings being used as conduits to summon Togarini. The pair were torn from one another, subjected to witness as the cult attempted to transform Mérie into a herald of Togarini.

What followed would only be stored in fragments within Mérie’s mind, a series of sounds and images in a broken frame rate. She would remember pain, flashes of her own carnage, the secrets of her flesh exposed, the distant sound of screams. But due to unknown circumstances, the ritual “didn’t take” onto Mérie. The cult instead turned upon Luc, to perfect him where she had failed. The sound of his voice breaking broke her as she tried to drag herself to where he was.

In the blink of a moment, all was silent. Time was no longer in fragments. Mérie was standing in the middle of a street, alone in the cool night air, holding onto a dagger. She was utterly disheveled – clothes torn, hair drenched, every muscle aching, covered in dirt and blood and … without any apparent wounds on her body. Luc was nowhere to be seen. Blade in hand, she considered the worst. Something terrible. Something… unspeakable. She would never….hurt him? Confused, terrified, obviously in shock, she returned to their flat to try and gather herself. Returning home was no refuge from the horror. He wasn’t there. But neither were any fragments of him. Any notion of his former presence only formed an absence. Papers were missing, clothing, cigarettes, even coffee mugs. Empty spaces on the walls where pictures should be. Money had not been touched, nothing stolen. None of Mérie’s belongings had been tampered with, though she noted a weight lifted from her left finger. Nothing legally binding could be located and all her identifications were painted with the shadow of her maiden name. Luc wasn’t just missing, he had been erased from the world as a whole.

She would not see any members of the society again. Friends would never question about Luc. Therapy would declare that Mérie had suffered an episode of stress induced psychosis, due to some trauma her mind had chosen to block and that she had created the figment of a man as some representation of comfort and potentially betrayal. She refused to believe the packaged explanation and feigned acceptance, choosing to pick up the fragments left of her former life, and continue on with her life, always holding her breath that some true answers would arrive. Time continued to pass. A month, a year, five, twenty five years. Eventually, she untensed and allowed the past to be a dream. Save for the dagger which she kept, close and secret. It was real and by some sense, made Luc real, though time made it more and more difficult to hold his appearance in her mind, a ghost that would haunt only her.

Until the events of an evening nearly thirty years later. Mérie was working as a curator for the Cecil Thorne Art Centre. Wealthy patrons had chosen to put together a charity event in the form of a midnight showing titled, The Atrocity Exhibition, which for the first time would bring together the complete collection of Gui Vacquelin’s works. Apprehension? Terror? Anger? It would be difficult to describe what Mérie felt when her director announced the project, but she was in no position to express these notions. However, the evening descended into even worse than what she had feared. The museum became a literal hell and Mérie would find herself lost within some of the deepest reaches of that.

But amidst it all, through chaos and fog and fire, a hand grabbed her and ripped Mérie forward through a war torn hellscape. The hand, the figure, the face. All that of Luc. Though his hair and beard had grown long, no age had touched his visage as time has brought to her own,  She considered the possibility that she was dead to the world, if he was there. The chemical bursts of death come to bring penance or consequence. She allowed her composure to crack. After years of confusion, years of longing, years of surviving alone, she rushed to his arms, to his lips once they stopped running, in desperation to ground herself to them moment, to feel some sense of warmth, to solidify his existence after so long. As the glow of the reunion waned she recognizes two things: that she was still alive and that this man was not her husband, but an imposter, wearing his skin, twisting her with his voice, employing the couple’s phrase as they shared a cigarette. To what end? How would he know…?  An event came to expose this truth, leaving Mérie with a choice: confrontation or continuation of the illusion. A tense pause exchanged between their eyes… and she decided to choose the latter.

Because the option was somehow less painful. Because she spent so long not even knowing if this person existed at all. That this man still represented some proof, trickery aside. And to give it all up again so soon? To deny herself what she had ached for? Rebuild stone walls that had only just crumbled? If this reflektor was to destroy her, kill her… she resigned herself to the idea. If it’s him, his face, perhaps there would be closure. Comfort in the end of this sorry story. Yet she overlooked that the price didn’t have to be her life. It ends up being other people’s lives that are the toll for the imposter’s freedom. People she had a duty to protect. And she carries that loss moving forward. Knowing she brought this weapon into a space that was supposed to be safe because she let herself want too much. And that “it took”. She builds her walls higher than ever after the events.  And yet and YET, if he returned to her again... she's not all sure she wouldn't crumble all over again. She wants to refuse that opportunity should it come.

Through the toil of erecting composure, she will stare at the ceiling every night and sees a familiar face, turned cruel. In her dreams, she sees the full events of what actually occurred the night she lost Luc. And again and again and again, she has to watch as she kills him. It’s the only way to wake up. Bitterness replaces yearning. Defensiveness replaces trust. Paranoia closes around her throat. Even the memory of him bastardized by the swing between the charade and the truth.

What's to come of their story? That's for my DM to decide in our next campaign....  

Lokorum’s piece is a representation of Mérie’s loss. Consistently revisiting the space where she last knew him. He’s been gone now for more years than she was alive when she met him. Half her life, defined by before the loss. Another half defined by its aftermath. She’ll come back here again and again trying to piece together what happened. Until she finally learns the truth and can never leave. If only she could forget after one last dance…

Ptr-sqloint’s piece is a representation of the weight of shame that Mérie carries. The mirror offers back a reflection of a reflection. She is confined in its frame. The imposter, a reflection of Mérie’s desires, vices, weakness. He exposes them, points them out, makes her bare witness to them, the secrets that are not physical, twisting love into a vice. What is it that she breathes for? Be honest now, Mérie.

[veevoosh]

tee hee got to doodle some goobers while makin homework today blehhh :PP

day 42!!!

me when the when the the me when me me the

[maevesnormalart]

i redesigned the main character of my video game again… happy Sad Kitty Sunday or something idk lol