that-one-guy-named-sheldon

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

Do you ever think about people having crushes on you? Like statistically it's probably ≥1 but at the same time you're 99% sure no one's ever liked you like that.

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

so my friend’s boyfriend sent this to her and I think my heart just melted into a nice big puddle

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

Poem

Nobody wants to die

I know I don’t want to

But when everyday is a chore

Every breath more taxing than the last

When you don’t look forward to anything

When You’ve lost all motivation

All passion

All drive

When the future is no longer bright

And you dread it just as much as tomorrow

It can be hard to want to live

I know I don’t want to

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

Source/article: [x]

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[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

Honestly, find someone who's as excited as your dog is when you come home

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

hey it’s me bjözo the scandinavian clown

hjönk

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

Varbek’s Journal: Backstory

While most lizardfolk can be found squatting in bogs and lounging around swamps, the Inik have traded in those harsh environs for the even harsher desert of the Glass Sands. Now, eating most anything that provides nourishment and drinking whatever has even the slightest amount of water in it, they do what they must to survive. Their scales now dry and rough from generations of desert living, this species is one of the most resilient in existence bred by the harsh living conditions of the desert.

The most important thing to the Inik is the tribe. The second most important thing is survival. They care not what others think of them, they really do not care what others think at all. The only thing they care about are the two aforementioned items. However once every generation a unique Inik is born, the Feathered. Named for more than just their iconic mane of feathers these Inik are treated as outcasts and become social pariahs.

The Feathered are more than just physical freaks to the Inik they also can sometimes on very rare occasions feel emotions. These flare ups are as alien to the Inik as they Inik are to the unscaled. Granted, these emotional flare ups rarely happen, only in times the Unscaled would feel intense emotions such as rage, sorrow, or euphoria for example. On top of these flare ups the Feathered are also characterised by an overwhelming curiosity. Varbek is one such Feathered.

Ostracized from the tribe since hatching, Varbek had ample alone time to study his people’s way of combat. Before even fully maturing he could easily beat anyone in the tribe in a spar. Of course these spars rarely happened and so he used his talents to hunt. He spent hours and sometimes even days out in the desert hunting and gathering food for the tribe. The other Inik may have spit in his direction and avoided his presence but they were his family and his loyalty to them was unwavering.

These adventures would often bring him close to the Unscaled, and while they fascinated him he would never make his presence known to them. Varbek only watched from afar admiring every aspect, every quirk of theirs. On occasion he would see some creature so beautiful that his feathers would stand on end and he felt a warmth like no other. Even when basking the sunlight never penetrated this deep.

One such occasion is where our story begins. Upon stopping at an oasis for a drink he saw an alluring woman moving strangely in the distance. He immediately burrowed in the sand to hide and slowly approached the lady. From beneath the sand he asked the woman why she moved as she did. After the initial shock of a voice with no owner the woman said she was dancing. Varbek complimented her movements and explained his infatuation with her beauty. She laughed and said that the best dances involve partners.

Varbek was taken aback when she asked him to be her partner, and against his better judgement he agreed. Never before had he interacted with anyone outside of the tribe and even inter-tribal interactions were not pleasant. Sand cascaded off of his back as he emerged, and the woman's eyes grew wide. Varbek feared she would treat him like his tribe mates, or worse turn tail and run. She did neither but simply grabbed his hands and led him in dance.

Their bodies spun and weaved together, silhouetted against the setting desert sun. For the first time in his life someone was treating Varbek like a real living being. The inner heat he had felt before welled up stronger than ever before and a wetness began in his eyes and slowly streamed down his scales. With a final spin he pulled her in close and embraced her as he’d seen other Unscaled do before. The sun was not but a sliver on the horizon and Varbek suggested she return to her tribe before all the light was gone.

He sat down on a rock and watched as she climbed a dune. She crested the hill and stopped moving. He thought she was going to turn around and say something but instead she kept walking. With the heat inside him still burning, Varbek decided to return home. Along the way he did some hunting to make sure he did not return empty handed. What would have been a day's journey home turned into weeks. Had he returned home faster he might still to this day be the social pariah he had always been.

You rarely see smoke in the desert sky, at least during the daytime. This was Varbek’s first indication something was off as he approached his village. His second clue was the silence, even from far away you could always hear the daily lives of the Inik. Upon getting closer he received his final clue, the stench. Rot filled the air making it hard to breathe. Fearing the worst Varbek broke into a sprint, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

His tribe mates lay slaughtered in the streets. Some eviscerated, many in several pieces, and some even skinned. The huts of his village had all been destroyed or burnt to the ground. Again the heat swelled up in him however this time it was not warm but scorching. Without thinking Varbek set out to find whatever did this.

Days passed in the sweltering heat before he found who he was chasing. Soon after passing through the oasis he saw a small village being burnt down, the culprit none other than a warband of orcs. As he approached the village he witnessed what surely had happened to his people. Bodies flung to the ground and ripped apart, heads lobbed off with axes, and children crushed into the sand. These orcs killed without a second thought.

To any bystanders it would appear as if Varbek was dancing in the way he deftly moved between the orcs slicing at them with his blades. Orc bodies fell in his wake none escaping the edges of his blades. Varbek saw nothing but red as he carved orcs limb from limb. When he finally regained his senses he was kneeling alone in sand stained red with blood. He decided to look around for any survivors and found none however, crumpled on the floor of the last hut he visited was a familiar shape, the woman he had danced with.

Falling to his knees the wetness returned to his eyes and fell to the sand around her lifeless body. He felt pain as he sat there in silence, but this pain was different. He had not been injured in his battle with the orcs yet he felt as if his heart had been ripped out. Why had this innocent creature been killed, what had she done that demanded her life. Varbek sat and thought on these questions for hours, absorbed into his own mind.

The sound of a warhorn pulled him back into the present as a convoy of knights rode into the village swords in hand. They questioned him and asked if he was responsible, Varbek shook his head and gestured towards the orcs. The knights were shocked that one Inik killed all those orcs and upon further inspection found that they all belonged to a wanted warband. The knights dropped a small pouch of gold at Varbek’s feet and rode away.  He pocketed the coins and began digging graves.

Tending to his bonfire he thought about his future something the Inik rarely did. He had no tribe, the one person who was nice to him was now dead, and most importantly he was still empty inside. This inner pain was still as strong as ever. He turned the coins over in his hand and made up his mind.

Varbek has since left the Glass Sands and now travels the world hunting those that would cause this pain and loss to anyone. With brutal efficiency he mows through his bounties. However he rarely keeps his money, instead giving it to those who have suffered at the hands of his targets.

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

D&D Journal

So I'm gonna start making entries into my my characters journal and posting them here, recapping what happened in a session for each entry. If anyone's interested just keep an eye out for them. I'll probably start with posting his back story since he is a Lizardfolk but I heavily modified the race with my DM.

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

Wasn’t iCarly that guy with the wax wings that flew into the sun and fucking got rest because same

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

Has this been done yet

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

Technically, for a natural 20 I would be rolling 16d8 but I didn’t want to draw that many d8.

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

*sees someone looking at their partner with genuine love and care* need me a freak like tht

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

me: hey, make sure to give me your characters backstory so i can include it in the campaign, don’t worry about sending too much or making it too detailed the more you send me the more I can work in about their past

my players: 

[that-one-guy-named-sheldon]

LIKING SOMEONE IS SO STRESSFUL