Black men gotee picture
Black Men Can't Jump in Hollywood
2018.02.19 23:00 mi-16evil Black Men Can't Jump in Hollywood
Black Men Can't Jump [In Hollywood] is a comedic podcast that reviews films with leading actors of color in a major motion picture and analyzes them in the context of race and Hollywood's diversity issues.
2017.08.15 19:28 Objective ratings and pragmatic guidance
The purpose of this sub is to provide facial ratings of both men and women based on *objective factors* such as harmony, sexual dimorphism, symmetry, and qualities of their features. This means analyzing/evaluating a person’s attractiveness without regard for one’s own feelings. This is not a subjective rating sub.
2012.06.25 15:36 AMWF
Welcome! This is a community that is for and about AMWF couples. For those of you who don’t know AMWF is an acronym that stands for Asian Male + White Female. This subreddit is meant to be a lighthearted place where these couples can share pictures, videos, and interact with each other in a positive way. However, you don’t have to be in an AMWF relationship to participate. Anyone may participate in the comments or submit any fun AMWF content that they would like to share.
2024.05.14 10:17 at_2004 Prank for a Stone Cold Principal
 | Queen of petty and great sovereign of potatoes, hear my plea and I hope you do not judge me too harshly. submitted by at_2004 to CharlotteDobreYouTube [link] [comments] Ok, but all and all, I don’t think I did anything to over the top. Allow me to see the stage.. It’s my junior year of high school and it’s a few weeks into the new year where this story starts, my family and I had received news that my mom’s oldest brother, my uncle, had been admitted to the hospital suddenly and was having difficulty, it was especially hard for my grandparents and his two daughters. Naturally I was worried because it’s my uncle and I’m hoping that he’ll be okay, I come to find out after getting back from school that day and after picking up my brothers from school that he had passed away a bit before we had gotten home. I was devastated along with the rest of my family and everyone was making plans to fly to my grandparents house. I did the usual song and dance of letting teachers know I would be gone along with brief reasons why including: it’s a funeral, I was staying with my grandparents and they don’t have the best internet, likelihood of any schoolwork being done was slim, please be understanding, you get the picture. Well, sometime after the actual funeral and I went to briefly checked my email because a couple of friends had been checking in on me via school email. My emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted self saw that there was an email from my Spanish teacher (who a quick FYI is also the principal, for the sake of the story is being dubbed Medusa) who said I should still be doing schoolwork and following COVID regulations regardless of the reason, while I was grieving my uncle. And let me just say, it got worse after I got back to school. Shortly after getting back, Medusa called on me to give a presentation which I hadn’t known about beforehand and she KNEW why I didn’t have it done. She was the only teacheadult who was completely unsympathetic to my situation, even going as far as to say she had expected more from me and she was disappointed, not to mention I was already struggling to catch up in the rest of my classes so Medusa wasn’t a special case in lagging behind. I’m sorry- but what in the ever living name of the mother of sanity did you think would happen?! I was acting like a robot for quite a while so pardon me if I’m not up to your standards lady (sorry, there’s still a lot of annoyance and anger towards this woman but it’s way more diluted than it had been originally), any respect I had for her as an adult died that day. So when the opportunity came to came her at the very least some minor inconvenience and petty vengeance for me, I took it (not entirely necessary or important to the story but Medusa is an older woman who via the school gossip grapevine was apparently a former nun, not sure how that makes sense but not my circus, not my monkeys). A little of context for how it went down: I went to a private Catholic high school in town (I doubt anyone from there is in this thread but hello!) that had a dress code/uniform situation going on, school polo and shorts/pants in black or khaki. Anyways~ a friend of mine, calling her N, came up with the great idea of pranking the entire school population on our school computers/ emails with a free dress day (wear anything within reason), and then the email that would be sent out detailed it would set for Friday. Granted, the email had been intended to be sent by at least one person from every grade in our friend group, what ended up happening was that N and I drafted up the email on my computer because it wouldn’t hurt me as much and Medusa had it out for her, I didn’t mind since I wanted back at her. N sent the email to everyone in our grade, but it went sideways afterwards. Later as about 10:00 that morning, I was called to Medusa’s office who had the email “I” sent pulled up. She then proceeded to all but yell at me that parents were calling the school about a supposed free dress day, how it was incredibly inappropriate and dangerous to pull something like this (it really wasn’t, this is honestly way more tame than what we had originally planned), someone could have been hurt and to come forth with anyone else involved, thanks little oops I made while trying to stay calm and not cry. I didn’t because I wasn’t about to throw N under the bus, and I was honestly fed with medusa and her bs. She eventually sent me back to class which took even longer because I just about collapsed and was so close to crying. I was questioned if I was alright when I got because at this point everyone knew about or read the email, told them I was fine and stuck to that til my friends got their hands on me because Principal Medusa already had a reputation. I told them the details, I got my eyes more red than I would have liked but I would ok. The kicker? The goddamn freshmen had been given permission, and by extension the rest of the students did as well, for a free dress day. I lost it and said/quote “That’s freaking bullshit!” Luckily for me, the teacher I had during that class didn’t take too much offense to me swearing and had heard through the grapevine. At this point, I still don’t know if it had been pressure from teachers, students, what I did, or a combination of everything that did it. But I don’t care, I caused her some trouble and I felt accomplished for it! I still have the pic I took about the project lol. Should be visible for yall, but either way, I don’t think I was too bad, but do you all think? |
2024.05.14 10:03 Razzmatazz288 Ideas to improve my stairway
 | Im looking for ideas to improve the look of the entry stairwell into my apartment. It’s double height and the width of a normal staircase. I’ve already removed the black shelving as it was too wide and low. I don’t need storage in this space. I’m thinking of the following options: submitted by Razzmatazz288 to interiordecorating [link] [comments] 1) put a higher shelf under the window with plants 2) picture frames staggered up each side wall 3) narrow picture shelfs on side wall with small plants and picture frames 4) one large painting on green wall 5) some sort of long narrow entry table Any other ideas? |
2024.05.14 09:57 Pouchkine___ [HELP] Black screen solo player doesn't work
For some reason I'm able to play in multiplayer, but the story mode won't load. It gives me 3 pictures, then black screen, then sound goes off, and it's stuck there.
submitted by Pouchkine___ to reddeadredemption2 [link] [comments]
2024.05.14 09:56 i-want-2-kms Bear Man debate
I did not want to make this post but I've seen enough shit around it.
Lot's of women do not understand what's wrong with the "bear vs man" debate. Or why is it offensive saying "I choose the bear".
Let's change the statement a little
If you're going to be alone in a forest with either a Bear or a BLACK man, whom would you choose?
If you say bear you're basically saying "I would rather choose to be alone with a bear than a black man because black men are dangerous, they might molest me, rape me, and do horrible things. The bear would just kill me."
Do you see how racist that sounds? How discriminatory? You're basically calling an entire group of people rapists. Most men are not rapists. If I meet a woman alone in the woods, I would help her. If it's a safe area I'll just leave her alone. Most men are like this, people in this subreddit can confirm.
If you're having trouble imagining a man helping a woman, think of your male friends, your father, your brothers, your teacher, your boyfriend. Do you think that the first thing they do when they see a woman in the woods is rape her?
No, right? They will most likely either help her if she's in danger or leave her alone.
It is not a pleasant feeling to be called a rapist. And it is tiring to keep saying "not all men".
submitted by i-want-2-kms to onexindia [link] [comments]
Lot's of women do not understand what's wrong with the "bear vs man" debate. Or why is it offensive saying "I choose the bear".
Let's change the statement a little
If you're going to be alone in a forest with either a Bear or a BLACK man, whom would you choose?
If you say bear you're basically saying "I would rather choose to be alone with a bear than a black man because black men are dangerous, they might molest me, rape me, and do horrible things. The bear would just kill me."
Do you see how racist that sounds? How discriminatory? You're basically calling an entire group of people rapists. Most men are not rapists. If I meet a woman alone in the woods, I would help her. If it's a safe area I'll just leave her alone. Most men are like this, people in this subreddit can confirm.
If you're having trouble imagining a man helping a woman, think of your male friends, your father, your brothers, your teacher, your boyfriend. Do you think that the first thing they do when they see a woman in the woods is rape her?
No, right? They will most likely either help her if she's in danger or leave her alone.
It is not a pleasant feeling to be called a rapist. And it is tiring to keep saying "not all men".
2024.05.14 09:53 shaneka69 CANCER ZODIAC - UNEXPECTED INCOME! TAROT READING MAY 2024
CANCER ZODIAC TAROT READING - UNEXPECTED INCOME MAY 2024
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2024.05.14 09:43 Thenn_Applicant Dorian Merryweather, Lord of Longtable + AC
Reddit Account: u/Thenn_Applicant
Discord Tag: Garin
Name and House: Dorian Merryweather
Age: 49
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: [Dorian's chestnut brown hair has been greying for quite a while, however is short beard retains more color, including a few stray red hairs peppered throughout it. While his features have softened and gained some pudge as he aged past his prime, he remains in overall good shape. This is partly due to his great love of gardening and crop cultivation, which have left his hands and nails rather rough.](Dodin-Bouffant-The-Taste-of-Things-Vest.webp (500×650) (williamjacket.com))
Trait: Numerate
Skills: Avaricious (e), Architect, Administrator, Investor
Talents: Language (High Valyrian) Cooking, Gardening
Negative Trait: N/A
Starting Title: Lord of Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Biography:
It has been said; men grow tired of sleep, love, singing and dancing, sooner than war. As such, it begs the question, what does a man have left when he finally tires of war? In pursuit of an answer, of any answer, one half of Dorian Merryweather’s life was spent. He was the second son of Lord Arthor Merryweather of Longtable. Like many others born in a place of natural abundance, he longed for more, for something greater than a mere provincial estate. The tourneys of Highgarden, the hunts of Horn Hill and the books of Oldtown all called to him, and so he could never ride past his father’s mild and verdant fields fast enough. Dorian counted himself lucky not to be the heir, for that meant he could pick where his future lay, unchained from the uninspiring home of his childhood. Instead it was his older brother, Bennard, who envied his free-flying lifestyle, contriving any excuse to join him on his escapades and agurk lessons and ceremonies he ought to have attended.
Lord Arthor was fairly permissive of this deriliction of duties, as the friendships forced on such journeys were worth more than lessons that could be repeated later, or tasks that could be handed off to lowborn stewards. The boys attended tourneys, balls, hunts and feasts, living the life the bards extolled as the height of reachman’s chivalry. The one time they did not shirk their duties was when their father had the honor of hosting King Mern and his court for a tourney on the Warrior’s day. The Merryweather sons would present the king and his family with silver bowls of dilligrout, a most exquisite stew of capons, white wine and almond milk. They had the joy of tasting it once the Gardeners had their fill, a taste they would never forget. On the tournament field three days later, Mern knighted them both, though Dorian was only sixteen at the time, green as a knight could ever be.
Five years later, as news of Aegon Targaryen and his early conquests spread, the lords of the Reach were summoned to Goldengrove, where they found a veritable forest of Westermen’s banners being planted beside their own. The fall of the Storm Kings had led to a whirlwind of diplomacy between the houses of Gardener and Lannister. The plan was presented to the lords with the two kings sitting beside one another on the dais as though they were brothers. They held up Aegon’s letter of demands, scornfully reading it aloud and then proceeded to tear it up to a roaring acclamation from the hall. Standing there before the hall, Mern could hardly be called the Warrior incarnate. There stood a man well past his prime, old enough to be a grandfather and with no great victories to his name, in battle or on the tourney field. All the same, this man, whom they called their king, always seemed to know exactly what to say to win someone over. If he’d declared war on hell itself that evening, the Merryweather brothers would probably still have marched off with him when the next morning dawned. Bennard and Dorian shouted as loud as anyone, death to the foreign upstart. That evening were betrothed to westerwomen they’d never met before, made plans for a real battle, which they had never fought in before, and drank, ate and sang as though the night would last forever. House Merryweather was not able to secure a command, yet King Mern remembered his stay at Longtable fondly. He gave Bennard and Dorian a place in the vanguard, and even adorned Bennard with a brooch of the order of the green hand the morning before the army Goldengrove, a momentous honor which Bennard would cherish for the remainder of his days. He did not have many left, as it turned out. The Field of Fire began like a dream, as the two brothers rode off at the break of dawn, two out of five thousand sets of gleaming armor atop proud warhorses. By the end of the day it had become a nightmare. Caught up in the maelstrom of battle, Dorian did not see the moment when their loss was assured, but the Gods know he could hear it, the creeping, hungry flames that descended on the reachmen like an army of its own. As hundreds were broiled inside their steel plate and thousands more choked on the inferno’s horrible vanguard of black smoke, Bennard and Dorian broke and fled. They were not far behind the retreating Loren Lannister in their escape, but half a minute made all the difference. The lines of fire fanned out, hunting more living things to devour, and engulfed the two brothers. Dorian could feel how the flames spread from his surcoat to his undershirt, all the way down to the hairs on his chest, beginning to sear his skin. In a desperate act he threw himself in the Blackwater, and would have perished if not for the shoddy work of his squire that morning, which left him able to tear off his plate before he could sink. With bloodied, burn-marked fingers, he clung to the roots of a tree by the riverside, water up to his chest. He was retrieved after some time, how long he could not say. For the next two moons his mind was adrift, distracted from his pains by milk of the poppy. The next two were far worse, as he grew more lucid and realized the extent of the damage. A burn-mark stretched from his right thigh, all the way up his chest and left bicep to the apple of his neck. Many times over, flakes of dead or dying skin had to be peeled off by the maester as the scabs kept bursting with blood and clear liquid. By the end of that year he was able to walk again, though the burn mark would leave a feverish red mark across the front of his body, his new skin settling into twisted lines.
Bennard was far worse for wear, alive yet burned all the way to his face and crippled from a fall off his horse. His nose and ear-lobes had to be cut off, too burned to save, and even his eyelids were permanently scarred, unable to sprout new lashes. The more lucid Bennard became, the deeper his sorrow. Eventually he began refusing food. The new lord of Longtable would not eat anything his cooks set in front of him. In spite of his ever present pains, Dorian began going to the kitchens, reprimanding the cooks for their failings. He knew his brother well and knew his palette, and began ordering them to make his brother’s favorites. When he felt they were making mistakes, he interrupted their work himself. He was a stranger to the kitchen, yet would criticize how things were cut too roughly, spiced too little or too much. He was a terror to the cooks, yet they could not refuse him.
His attempts to intervene were however hampered by a newfound aversion to heat. The sound of the hearth, of boiling and searing, the general sense of warmth around him made him nauseous and caused his movements to seize up. Still, he went to his brother’s bedside every day, and afterwards he forced himself back to the kitchens. His sister, Lydia, tried to stop him at first, but soon found her protes fell on deaf ears, and so joined him, if only to leash him in when he went too far. Finally, there was only one dish they hadn’t tried; the dilligrout they’d once served to the late King Mern. Every time it was made, it came out wrong. It soon turned out the cook who had served them that evening six years ago had since retired, and his exact method had never been recorded or taught to anyone else. Dorian would first invite the man to Longtable, then summon him with armed knights when invitations were refused.
Theomar, the man who appeared before him, was a sorry sight, looking frightened and confused as he was taken to his old workplace. It was explained by his sons that he’d been growing senile even six years ago, often snapping at the kitchen maids under him when his memory failed him. Since then he’d gotten worse, seldom eating, let alone cooking. Something in the old man’s eyes did seem to brighten for a moment when the sounds and smells of his old kitchen surrounded him, and Dorian ordered him to make dilligrout. Before long that faint spark had been drowned out by tears. He would start boiling capon or crushing almonds, only to leave the job half-done whenever he had to fetch something new. Serving maids were put at his disposal to bring him ingredients, yet an ingredient ordered would be met with a reprimand as he seemed to forget which dish he was making every few minutes. Finally Dorian snapped at the man, grabbing him by his collar and shouting accusations of treason against House Merryweather. By the time Lydia could restrain him and try to apologize, the man was a wreck on the floor. After watching it for a while, waiting for the man to get up and continue his work, even Dorian was overcome by pity and shame for what he’d done. The old cook was praying to the gods, begging forgiveness for his failings. Dorian began to realize he’d broken a great man down and would himself beg forgiveness. He offered the man his old cook’s quarters back for the rest of his life, and promised his sons that his maester would tend to the man in his old age, that he would be fed from Longtable’s stores.
At this point, he resolved to make the dilligrout himself. Through it all, Bennard was barely clinging to life, or rather being tethered to it by the will of others. He could only be fed when drugged down by the milk of the poppy, and the more often it was used, the less effective it became. Every day Dorian braved the kitchens, yet he could not recreate the flavor of that wonderful night. It was by the grace of the gods, perhaps with Theomar as their vessel, that Dorian would even come close. The old man could no longer cook, but over time he began to wander into the kitchens and sit down on a chair. At first Dorian thought the man only sought the warmth of the hearth for his weary bones, yet he discovered it to be more than that. Theomar’s eyes were like clouded glass, yet they brightened every now and then, hearing almonds being ground, smelling capons searing in fat, as though it was stirring the kitchenmaster of yore back to life. Eventually Dorian began to walk up to the old cook with his ingredients, bidding him to smell or taste small portions. Sometimes he got simple instructions out of it, ‘too coarse’, ‘too sour’, ‘underdone’. Som times a mere nod or frown was all Theomar managed. Over the course of a couple of days, Dorian put together one final attempt to get the dish made rightWhen he arrived in Bennard’s chamber, he was met with a look which brought forth discomfort that no flame could produce in Dorian. Plainly, raspingly, his brother asked him why he wouldn’t let him die. It was easy, Bennard reasoned. All Dorian needed to do was wait and become lord. The words almost made Dorian throw the dilligrout on the floor. Almost. He placed two bowls on Bennard’s table, the dilligrout and one brimming with milk of the poppy. Dorian told his brother to make his choice. If he sought death, Dorian would let him, but he would not hear that it was an easy thing, watching his brother die. That evening, the milk of the poppy was carried away by the maester, the empty bowl of stew taken to be washed in the kitchens. From then on, Bennard ate what his brother brought him without complaint. He lasted just into the new year, dying on its tenth day. In the predawn gloom of the twelfth, Theomar died in his sleep
Dorian took up his lordly task joylessly. His old wanderlust returned, spurred by the horrible memories that now stained Longtable and the reach itself in his mind. The final straw came when their new Tyrell overlords, insisted on him marrying a lady from a dornish house. His previous betrothal had fallen through, as the parents of his western bride had not wished to draw the ire of the Targaryens by maintaining an old alliance meant to oppose them. Instead of obliging, he boarded a ship from Oldtown going east. It stopped only briefly in Planky Town before going to Tyrosh. Noting him to be a nobleman, a few of the city’s wealthy men would host him for a while, though they quickly lost interest when his lack of knowledge of trade became apparent. After that, he spent time in the markets and squares where the common people lived. His old curiosity was piqued, and he decided to embark on a quest of learning, fashioning himself another Lomas Longstrider. He moved on to Myr, and the experience was much the same in broad strokes, a few rich men showed interest and quickly lost it. As he’d visited the dye markets he went to see the city’s famous artisans at work. One thing was notably different, he met a Tyroshi woman with green-dyed hair, going by the name Maryah. She was a trader, and the two had taken the same ship to Myr. She had been to Myr before and showed him many of its secrets. They spent an entire day in one of the vast delicacy markets so she could show him the many tastes of the city. Having no plans in advance, he asked where she was headed next.
Without a second thought he would join her on a journey to Lys. He soon understood it to be a test. It was not long before she teased him, speculating he’d only joined her for a chance to see the famous pleasure houses. Evening after evening they stayed in the city and Maryah would tease and test him over the matter. Finally he told her he’d renounce his betrothal for her, that there was no one else in his eye. She laughed, replying he would not have to. The next morning, Dorian awoke to find that she was already up, the green washed from her black curls. Maryah had in fact been Joanna Dayne, his dornish bride to be, having traveled the same route as him ever since his ship stopped at Planky Town to refill its food and water. She was already quite familiar with the three closest free cities, having served as a dornish envoy on behalf of its spice traders. As they planned their return to Westeros, Joanna asked him what else in the world he wanted to see. Within a few moons of being wed, they left Westeros, not to return for three years.The journey was what his mind needed, away from the Reach, its knights and tapestries, hunts and tourneys. Ultimately, the lords and knights of his homeland, for all their songs and poetry, lived every day in preparation for war, frivolous though the preparations were. Joanna showed him a different world, the remnants of Old Valyria. War was to be sure inescapable. Wherever they went, there were soldiers, tapestries, contests of arms, and yet the cities housed something else as well, a boundless potential for creation, commerce and growth.
Thanks to Joanna Dayne’s knowledge their stays became far better planned, and they could enjoy the hospitality of wealthy locals far longer. She knew how to talk about the spice trade and similar matters, and Dorian began to pick up on it. On their second stay in Myr, he procured a great deal of fine parchment and began taking notes, everything from negotiation tactics and the prices of cloves or red peppers to court customs, as well as more eclectic pieces of knowledge, details of running an eastern estate, descriptions of technological marvels he had never seen in Westeros, and ingredients in the local food. By the time they neared Qarth he had quite the list of recipes, among other things. There he was even able to learn a few all the way from Yi Ti, as some local cooks catered to merchants from the Golden Empire. On their journey home they’d end up taking the opportunity to see the newly made port of King’s Landing. By that time, a third member had joined their journey, their infant daughter Florys. Having left Longtable in the care of his sister and steward for three years, Dorian finally accepted the responsibility of running his ancestral home.
Longtable was considered to rule over some of the best lands in the Reach, ideally situated along the river with abundant soil which could provide two grain harvests in a year. Having seen the estates which supplied the great cities of the east, Dorian was all too aware of its comparative shortcomings. He found that the abundance of the land had a counterproductive effect, breeding complacency and carelessness. From his grandiose tour of the east, he went on a painstaking tour of his own lands, trying to get an overview of everything he ruled over. He paid the citadel a fee to send him half a dozen maesters in training for a season. These young men, literate and numerate, would serve his own maester in conducting a survey of the land, giving Dorian account of all resources at his disposal as lord. The results were quite varied.
Some peasants were found to have remarkable agricultural insights which they had no way of writing down, entirely reliant on passing the knowledge to their children. Knowing the risks of such a method of transferring knowledge, Dorian ordered such insights recorded. In other places there were farmers and communities who were unwittingly exhausting their soil. Instances of lack of fallow land, excessive grazing by cows and lack of crop rotation were also made note of, followed by edicts against such heedless practices. Septons, sheriffs and tax collectors were given written copies and were obliged to read them to the peasantry wherever it was deemed necessary. It also became part of the obligations of farmers to plant a set amount of clover in their fields and pastures, a practice some had taken up on their own but which had already become a standardized law among the estates belonging to Myr and Volantis. Irrigation was expanded and land inheritance was reformed to prevent the splitting of fields past a certain threshold.
Lord Dorian was not always successful. Some eastern ideas had been useful innovations which improved conditions across the board. In time he learned that the peculiarities of the westerosi system were sometimes necessary for the sake of stability, not merely the misshapen fruits of ignorance. His attempt to enclose part of the common lands proved abortive, as it nearly caused a peasant rebellion. A procession of aggrieved smallfolk headed for Longtable had to be dispersed by knights, armed with wooden clubs to prevent needless bloodshed.Two men were hanged and five sent to the wall, but the reform was thereafter abandoned, leading the populace to calm down. Dorian was not much of a military leader and had not wielded weapons since the Field of Fire. He became aware of his need to bolster his forces, a notion reinforced by the establishment of the Black Roses not long after his return, and again with the Kingswood Catastrophe
In the meantime, he and Joanna raised a family together. Three more daughters would be born healthy, with a couple of miscarriages and a stillbirth in between, also a daughter. Their travels did not entirely come to an end. In 13 AC they would tour the northern free cities of Norvos, Qohor, Pentos, Braavos and Lorath, which they had missed on their original journey. The lion’s share of 17 AC was spent on a journey to the Summer Islands. At other times they would make shorter journeys around the Seven Kingdoms, where they felt more secure in bringing their older children along. Whether it was visiting Joanna’s family in Dorne, tourneys and feasts in the Reach and West or even one trip to see the wall, a nameday wish by Florys, they were often on the move. Like most of their peers, they frequented Oldtown and Highgarden
The growing rift between the two queens and their children was a situation Dorian would watch with dread in his heart, remembering keenly how a generation of young men had been brought to the field of fire. To his mind, the Targaryen rule ought not go to waste. Like Valyria of old, it had begun with fire and blood, yet similarly peace and prosperity had followed in its wake. If only the dragons could stand united, perhaps another long peace like the one the Freehold once enjoyed could again be established. If not, another century of blood was upon them. Under Dorian, Longtable became a place where he sought to bring together people from across the kingdoms and forge unity over the dinner table, an attitude which somewhat vexed and confounded his more militaristic daughter and heiress, Lady Florys. Even amid her questioning of the viability of his peaceful ways when surrounded by those who would make war, a terrible sight would steel his resolve, watching the Mander burning green, every bit as terrible as the flames from twenty one years prior. That night he made a simple vow, never again.
The League of the Cornucopia, he would name his little group, a gallery of lords and ladies whose acquaintances he’d made over the years. With these fellow gourmets he would share the culinary knowledge he’d gleaned from his journeys in the east and west. Most unusual for a lord of his rank, Dorian came to spend a great deal of time in his kitchens, testing out recipes himself. On occasion, the dishes he served to his guests for these small, intimate gatherings would be the work of his own hands. The membership did vary from time to time, both based on who could make it and who he sought to bring together. Rather than a fully closed circle, the League is more like a form of feasting, only it’s done for a much smaller crowd, without the public spectacle. Such occasions allowed for more refined foods which did not need to be served to hundreds and kept constantly warm over the course of hours like some common tavern stew. It also opened up an arena of more intimate diplomacy and negotiation for those who sought it, hosted on neutral ground by a lordly mediator, free from prying eyes.
Timeline:
25BC: Dorian is born, second in line to Longtable
24BC: His sister Lydia is born
9BC: House Merryweather hosts House Gardener for a tourney and feast. Dorian and his older brother Bennard serve the dish of honor to King Mern Gardener and his family. During the subsequent tourney, Mern knights both boys, despite their inexperience and lack of victory in the tourney
9BC-2BC: Dorian spends much time travelling the reach, attending events
1BC: Dorian and Bennard fight in the vanguard at the Field of Fire. Both are burned, Bennard far more severely than Dorian. Lord Merryweather is killed. Traumatized by the battle and his new maimed body, Bennard starts refusing food. Dorian desperately tries to re-create the dish they served King Mern eight years ago. The cook who made it has since gone senile, but eventually manages to help Dorian re-create it. He is given a place at court as apology for his mistreatment at Dorian's hands before this occurred.
1AC: Lord Bennard dies at the beginning of the year, leaving Dorian as lord of Longtable. His sister Lydia fulfills her betrothal to House Tarly, becoming lady of Horn Hill. At the prospect of marrying a Dornishwoman on the King's orders, Dorian decides to leave Westeros to put off his marriage. In Myr, he meets a woman calling herself Maryah, claiming to be a Tyroshi merchant. They fall in love and travel to Lys together. There Dorian promises to set aside his betrothal for her, whereupon she reveals herself as Joanna Dayne, his dornish betrothed.
1AC-4AC: Dorian and Joanna wed at Longtable, then depart on a new journey of the east. They reach as far as Qarth before turning back home. In 3AC, on the way back, their first child, Florys, is born while the couple are in Volantis, on the way home. They return via the newly built port of King's Landing.
4AC-8AC: Using knowledge from the east, Lord Dorian embarks on a project of rationalizing the agriculture of Longtable
5AC: Dorian and Joanna have their second child, a girl named Ellyn
8AC: Their third daughter, Desmera, is born
13AC: Dorian and Joanna spend a year travelling the northern free cities
14AC: Their fourth and final daughter, Gwin, is born
17AC: Dorian and Joanna undertake a journey to the Summer Islands with their children
23AC: The aftermath of the battle of Stonebridge brings back memories of the Field of Fire, as the Merryweathers watch burning slag run down the Mander
25AC: The Merryweathers travel to the celebration of the maturity of Aegon's sons
Family Tree:
Arthor Merryweather (father, d.1BC)
Cerelle Merryweather (pending family connection) (mother, d.20AC)
Bennard Merryweather (brother, d.1AC)
Lydia Merryweather (sister, b.24BC)
Glendon Merryweather (uncle, d.1BC)
Myrcella Pommingham (aunt, d.22AC)
Leo Merryweather (cousin, b.13AC)
Joanna Dayne (wife, b.26AC)
Florys Merryweather (daughter, b.3AC)
Ellyn Merryweather (daughter, b.5AC)
Desmera Merryweather (daughter, b.8AC)
Gwin Merryweather (daughter, b.13AC)
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Auxiliary Character:
Name and House: Florys Merryweather
Age: 23
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: [A short, muscular woman with wavy black hair, normally worn in a bun. She has high cheekbones and a proud demeanor. Her rigid strength stands in contrast to the more relaxed nature of the Merryweather court, one she finds overly lax and casual](0_0.png (896×1344) (discordapp.com))
Trait: Hale
Skills: Swords (e), Essosi Blademaster
Talents: Dancing, Fishing, Cooking
Negative Traits: N/A
Starting Title: Heir to Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Timeline:
3AC: Florys is born in Volantis, while her parents are on their way home from Essos
10AC: Florys starts training under Saathos Trevelyan, her father's Master at Arms
13 AC: She joins her parents on a tour of Pentos, Braavos, Norvos and Qohor
17AC: She travels with her parents to the Summer Islands
19AC-23AC: As she comes of age, Florys becomes more critical of her father's desire for peace, viewing it as increasingly far-fetched amid the increasingly controversial regency and the impending succession dispute. She resolves to make the kinds of connections her father seems unwilling to, in case of war
25AC: She accompanies her family to the celebrations
NPCS:
Ser Leo Merryweather (Age: 37, Archetype: Magnate) Lord Merryweather's first cousin, he has become an indispensable agent in the daily running of Longtable. Despite his foppish demeanor and aparent laziness, he is highly capable and loyal in his task of increasing his family's fortune. He remains happily unwed
Saathos Tevelyan: (Age:48, Archetype: Master at Arms) The son of a Lysene father and a Myrish mother, Saathos initially sought a career in amongst Myr's military officers, however his family's relatively low status proved an impediment to further promotion, later compounded by a dispute with a superior. He met Lord Merryweather in 3AC and eventually travelled West to offer his services five years later, finding his career progress stonewalled in his home city. Well into middle age, he still looks firm and imposing as profesisonal a soldier ought to
submitted by Thenn_Applicant to ITRPCommunity [link] [comments]
Discord Tag: Garin
Name and House: Dorian Merryweather
Age: 49
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: [Dorian's chestnut brown hair has been greying for quite a while, however is short beard retains more color, including a few stray red hairs peppered throughout it. While his features have softened and gained some pudge as he aged past his prime, he remains in overall good shape. This is partly due to his great love of gardening and crop cultivation, which have left his hands and nails rather rough.](Dodin-Bouffant-The-Taste-of-Things-Vest.webp (500×650) (williamjacket.com))
Trait: Numerate
Skills: Avaricious (e), Architect, Administrator, Investor
Talents: Language (High Valyrian) Cooking, Gardening
Negative Trait: N/A
Starting Title: Lord of Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Biography:
It has been said; men grow tired of sleep, love, singing and dancing, sooner than war. As such, it begs the question, what does a man have left when he finally tires of war? In pursuit of an answer, of any answer, one half of Dorian Merryweather’s life was spent. He was the second son of Lord Arthor Merryweather of Longtable. Like many others born in a place of natural abundance, he longed for more, for something greater than a mere provincial estate. The tourneys of Highgarden, the hunts of Horn Hill and the books of Oldtown all called to him, and so he could never ride past his father’s mild and verdant fields fast enough. Dorian counted himself lucky not to be the heir, for that meant he could pick where his future lay, unchained from the uninspiring home of his childhood. Instead it was his older brother, Bennard, who envied his free-flying lifestyle, contriving any excuse to join him on his escapades and agurk lessons and ceremonies he ought to have attended.
Lord Arthor was fairly permissive of this deriliction of duties, as the friendships forced on such journeys were worth more than lessons that could be repeated later, or tasks that could be handed off to lowborn stewards. The boys attended tourneys, balls, hunts and feasts, living the life the bards extolled as the height of reachman’s chivalry. The one time they did not shirk their duties was when their father had the honor of hosting King Mern and his court for a tourney on the Warrior’s day. The Merryweather sons would present the king and his family with silver bowls of dilligrout, a most exquisite stew of capons, white wine and almond milk. They had the joy of tasting it once the Gardeners had their fill, a taste they would never forget. On the tournament field three days later, Mern knighted them both, though Dorian was only sixteen at the time, green as a knight could ever be.
Five years later, as news of Aegon Targaryen and his early conquests spread, the lords of the Reach were summoned to Goldengrove, where they found a veritable forest of Westermen’s banners being planted beside their own. The fall of the Storm Kings had led to a whirlwind of diplomacy between the houses of Gardener and Lannister. The plan was presented to the lords with the two kings sitting beside one another on the dais as though they were brothers. They held up Aegon’s letter of demands, scornfully reading it aloud and then proceeded to tear it up to a roaring acclamation from the hall. Standing there before the hall, Mern could hardly be called the Warrior incarnate. There stood a man well past his prime, old enough to be a grandfather and with no great victories to his name, in battle or on the tourney field. All the same, this man, whom they called their king, always seemed to know exactly what to say to win someone over. If he’d declared war on hell itself that evening, the Merryweather brothers would probably still have marched off with him when the next morning dawned. Bennard and Dorian shouted as loud as anyone, death to the foreign upstart. That evening were betrothed to westerwomen they’d never met before, made plans for a real battle, which they had never fought in before, and drank, ate and sang as though the night would last forever. House Merryweather was not able to secure a command, yet King Mern remembered his stay at Longtable fondly. He gave Bennard and Dorian a place in the vanguard, and even adorned Bennard with a brooch of the order of the green hand the morning before the army Goldengrove, a momentous honor which Bennard would cherish for the remainder of his days. He did not have many left, as it turned out. The Field of Fire began like a dream, as the two brothers rode off at the break of dawn, two out of five thousand sets of gleaming armor atop proud warhorses. By the end of the day it had become a nightmare. Caught up in the maelstrom of battle, Dorian did not see the moment when their loss was assured, but the Gods know he could hear it, the creeping, hungry flames that descended on the reachmen like an army of its own. As hundreds were broiled inside their steel plate and thousands more choked on the inferno’s horrible vanguard of black smoke, Bennard and Dorian broke and fled. They were not far behind the retreating Loren Lannister in their escape, but half a minute made all the difference. The lines of fire fanned out, hunting more living things to devour, and engulfed the two brothers. Dorian could feel how the flames spread from his surcoat to his undershirt, all the way down to the hairs on his chest, beginning to sear his skin. In a desperate act he threw himself in the Blackwater, and would have perished if not for the shoddy work of his squire that morning, which left him able to tear off his plate before he could sink. With bloodied, burn-marked fingers, he clung to the roots of a tree by the riverside, water up to his chest. He was retrieved after some time, how long he could not say. For the next two moons his mind was adrift, distracted from his pains by milk of the poppy. The next two were far worse, as he grew more lucid and realized the extent of the damage. A burn-mark stretched from his right thigh, all the way up his chest and left bicep to the apple of his neck. Many times over, flakes of dead or dying skin had to be peeled off by the maester as the scabs kept bursting with blood and clear liquid. By the end of that year he was able to walk again, though the burn mark would leave a feverish red mark across the front of his body, his new skin settling into twisted lines.
Bennard was far worse for wear, alive yet burned all the way to his face and crippled from a fall off his horse. His nose and ear-lobes had to be cut off, too burned to save, and even his eyelids were permanently scarred, unable to sprout new lashes. The more lucid Bennard became, the deeper his sorrow. Eventually he began refusing food. The new lord of Longtable would not eat anything his cooks set in front of him. In spite of his ever present pains, Dorian began going to the kitchens, reprimanding the cooks for their failings. He knew his brother well and knew his palette, and began ordering them to make his brother’s favorites. When he felt they were making mistakes, he interrupted their work himself. He was a stranger to the kitchen, yet would criticize how things were cut too roughly, spiced too little or too much. He was a terror to the cooks, yet they could not refuse him.
His attempts to intervene were however hampered by a newfound aversion to heat. The sound of the hearth, of boiling and searing, the general sense of warmth around him made him nauseous and caused his movements to seize up. Still, he went to his brother’s bedside every day, and afterwards he forced himself back to the kitchens. His sister, Lydia, tried to stop him at first, but soon found her protes fell on deaf ears, and so joined him, if only to leash him in when he went too far. Finally, there was only one dish they hadn’t tried; the dilligrout they’d once served to the late King Mern. Every time it was made, it came out wrong. It soon turned out the cook who had served them that evening six years ago had since retired, and his exact method had never been recorded or taught to anyone else. Dorian would first invite the man to Longtable, then summon him with armed knights when invitations were refused.
Theomar, the man who appeared before him, was a sorry sight, looking frightened and confused as he was taken to his old workplace. It was explained by his sons that he’d been growing senile even six years ago, often snapping at the kitchen maids under him when his memory failed him. Since then he’d gotten worse, seldom eating, let alone cooking. Something in the old man’s eyes did seem to brighten for a moment when the sounds and smells of his old kitchen surrounded him, and Dorian ordered him to make dilligrout. Before long that faint spark had been drowned out by tears. He would start boiling capon or crushing almonds, only to leave the job half-done whenever he had to fetch something new. Serving maids were put at his disposal to bring him ingredients, yet an ingredient ordered would be met with a reprimand as he seemed to forget which dish he was making every few minutes. Finally Dorian snapped at the man, grabbing him by his collar and shouting accusations of treason against House Merryweather. By the time Lydia could restrain him and try to apologize, the man was a wreck on the floor. After watching it for a while, waiting for the man to get up and continue his work, even Dorian was overcome by pity and shame for what he’d done. The old cook was praying to the gods, begging forgiveness for his failings. Dorian began to realize he’d broken a great man down and would himself beg forgiveness. He offered the man his old cook’s quarters back for the rest of his life, and promised his sons that his maester would tend to the man in his old age, that he would be fed from Longtable’s stores.
At this point, he resolved to make the dilligrout himself. Through it all, Bennard was barely clinging to life, or rather being tethered to it by the will of others. He could only be fed when drugged down by the milk of the poppy, and the more often it was used, the less effective it became. Every day Dorian braved the kitchens, yet he could not recreate the flavor of that wonderful night. It was by the grace of the gods, perhaps with Theomar as their vessel, that Dorian would even come close. The old man could no longer cook, but over time he began to wander into the kitchens and sit down on a chair. At first Dorian thought the man only sought the warmth of the hearth for his weary bones, yet he discovered it to be more than that. Theomar’s eyes were like clouded glass, yet they brightened every now and then, hearing almonds being ground, smelling capons searing in fat, as though it was stirring the kitchenmaster of yore back to life. Eventually Dorian began to walk up to the old cook with his ingredients, bidding him to smell or taste small portions. Sometimes he got simple instructions out of it, ‘too coarse’, ‘too sour’, ‘underdone’. Som times a mere nod or frown was all Theomar managed. Over the course of a couple of days, Dorian put together one final attempt to get the dish made rightWhen he arrived in Bennard’s chamber, he was met with a look which brought forth discomfort that no flame could produce in Dorian. Plainly, raspingly, his brother asked him why he wouldn’t let him die. It was easy, Bennard reasoned. All Dorian needed to do was wait and become lord. The words almost made Dorian throw the dilligrout on the floor. Almost. He placed two bowls on Bennard’s table, the dilligrout and one brimming with milk of the poppy. Dorian told his brother to make his choice. If he sought death, Dorian would let him, but he would not hear that it was an easy thing, watching his brother die. That evening, the milk of the poppy was carried away by the maester, the empty bowl of stew taken to be washed in the kitchens. From then on, Bennard ate what his brother brought him without complaint. He lasted just into the new year, dying on its tenth day. In the predawn gloom of the twelfth, Theomar died in his sleep
Dorian took up his lordly task joylessly. His old wanderlust returned, spurred by the horrible memories that now stained Longtable and the reach itself in his mind. The final straw came when their new Tyrell overlords, insisted on him marrying a lady from a dornish house. His previous betrothal had fallen through, as the parents of his western bride had not wished to draw the ire of the Targaryens by maintaining an old alliance meant to oppose them. Instead of obliging, he boarded a ship from Oldtown going east. It stopped only briefly in Planky Town before going to Tyrosh. Noting him to be a nobleman, a few of the city’s wealthy men would host him for a while, though they quickly lost interest when his lack of knowledge of trade became apparent. After that, he spent time in the markets and squares where the common people lived. His old curiosity was piqued, and he decided to embark on a quest of learning, fashioning himself another Lomas Longstrider. He moved on to Myr, and the experience was much the same in broad strokes, a few rich men showed interest and quickly lost it. As he’d visited the dye markets he went to see the city’s famous artisans at work. One thing was notably different, he met a Tyroshi woman with green-dyed hair, going by the name Maryah. She was a trader, and the two had taken the same ship to Myr. She had been to Myr before and showed him many of its secrets. They spent an entire day in one of the vast delicacy markets so she could show him the many tastes of the city. Having no plans in advance, he asked where she was headed next.
Without a second thought he would join her on a journey to Lys. He soon understood it to be a test. It was not long before she teased him, speculating he’d only joined her for a chance to see the famous pleasure houses. Evening after evening they stayed in the city and Maryah would tease and test him over the matter. Finally he told her he’d renounce his betrothal for her, that there was no one else in his eye. She laughed, replying he would not have to. The next morning, Dorian awoke to find that she was already up, the green washed from her black curls. Maryah had in fact been Joanna Dayne, his dornish bride to be, having traveled the same route as him ever since his ship stopped at Planky Town to refill its food and water. She was already quite familiar with the three closest free cities, having served as a dornish envoy on behalf of its spice traders. As they planned their return to Westeros, Joanna asked him what else in the world he wanted to see. Within a few moons of being wed, they left Westeros, not to return for three years.The journey was what his mind needed, away from the Reach, its knights and tapestries, hunts and tourneys. Ultimately, the lords and knights of his homeland, for all their songs and poetry, lived every day in preparation for war, frivolous though the preparations were. Joanna showed him a different world, the remnants of Old Valyria. War was to be sure inescapable. Wherever they went, there were soldiers, tapestries, contests of arms, and yet the cities housed something else as well, a boundless potential for creation, commerce and growth.
Thanks to Joanna Dayne’s knowledge their stays became far better planned, and they could enjoy the hospitality of wealthy locals far longer. She knew how to talk about the spice trade and similar matters, and Dorian began to pick up on it. On their second stay in Myr, he procured a great deal of fine parchment and began taking notes, everything from negotiation tactics and the prices of cloves or red peppers to court customs, as well as more eclectic pieces of knowledge, details of running an eastern estate, descriptions of technological marvels he had never seen in Westeros, and ingredients in the local food. By the time they neared Qarth he had quite the list of recipes, among other things. There he was even able to learn a few all the way from Yi Ti, as some local cooks catered to merchants from the Golden Empire. On their journey home they’d end up taking the opportunity to see the newly made port of King’s Landing. By that time, a third member had joined their journey, their infant daughter Florys. Having left Longtable in the care of his sister and steward for three years, Dorian finally accepted the responsibility of running his ancestral home.
Longtable was considered to rule over some of the best lands in the Reach, ideally situated along the river with abundant soil which could provide two grain harvests in a year. Having seen the estates which supplied the great cities of the east, Dorian was all too aware of its comparative shortcomings. He found that the abundance of the land had a counterproductive effect, breeding complacency and carelessness. From his grandiose tour of the east, he went on a painstaking tour of his own lands, trying to get an overview of everything he ruled over. He paid the citadel a fee to send him half a dozen maesters in training for a season. These young men, literate and numerate, would serve his own maester in conducting a survey of the land, giving Dorian account of all resources at his disposal as lord. The results were quite varied.
Some peasants were found to have remarkable agricultural insights which they had no way of writing down, entirely reliant on passing the knowledge to their children. Knowing the risks of such a method of transferring knowledge, Dorian ordered such insights recorded. In other places there were farmers and communities who were unwittingly exhausting their soil. Instances of lack of fallow land, excessive grazing by cows and lack of crop rotation were also made note of, followed by edicts against such heedless practices. Septons, sheriffs and tax collectors were given written copies and were obliged to read them to the peasantry wherever it was deemed necessary. It also became part of the obligations of farmers to plant a set amount of clover in their fields and pastures, a practice some had taken up on their own but which had already become a standardized law among the estates belonging to Myr and Volantis. Irrigation was expanded and land inheritance was reformed to prevent the splitting of fields past a certain threshold.
Lord Dorian was not always successful. Some eastern ideas had been useful innovations which improved conditions across the board. In time he learned that the peculiarities of the westerosi system were sometimes necessary for the sake of stability, not merely the misshapen fruits of ignorance. His attempt to enclose part of the common lands proved abortive, as it nearly caused a peasant rebellion. A procession of aggrieved smallfolk headed for Longtable had to be dispersed by knights, armed with wooden clubs to prevent needless bloodshed.Two men were hanged and five sent to the wall, but the reform was thereafter abandoned, leading the populace to calm down. Dorian was not much of a military leader and had not wielded weapons since the Field of Fire. He became aware of his need to bolster his forces, a notion reinforced by the establishment of the Black Roses not long after his return, and again with the Kingswood Catastrophe
In the meantime, he and Joanna raised a family together. Three more daughters would be born healthy, with a couple of miscarriages and a stillbirth in between, also a daughter. Their travels did not entirely come to an end. In 13 AC they would tour the northern free cities of Norvos, Qohor, Pentos, Braavos and Lorath, which they had missed on their original journey. The lion’s share of 17 AC was spent on a journey to the Summer Islands. At other times they would make shorter journeys around the Seven Kingdoms, where they felt more secure in bringing their older children along. Whether it was visiting Joanna’s family in Dorne, tourneys and feasts in the Reach and West or even one trip to see the wall, a nameday wish by Florys, they were often on the move. Like most of their peers, they frequented Oldtown and Highgarden
The growing rift between the two queens and their children was a situation Dorian would watch with dread in his heart, remembering keenly how a generation of young men had been brought to the field of fire. To his mind, the Targaryen rule ought not go to waste. Like Valyria of old, it had begun with fire and blood, yet similarly peace and prosperity had followed in its wake. If only the dragons could stand united, perhaps another long peace like the one the Freehold once enjoyed could again be established. If not, another century of blood was upon them. Under Dorian, Longtable became a place where he sought to bring together people from across the kingdoms and forge unity over the dinner table, an attitude which somewhat vexed and confounded his more militaristic daughter and heiress, Lady Florys. Even amid her questioning of the viability of his peaceful ways when surrounded by those who would make war, a terrible sight would steel his resolve, watching the Mander burning green, every bit as terrible as the flames from twenty one years prior. That night he made a simple vow, never again.
The League of the Cornucopia, he would name his little group, a gallery of lords and ladies whose acquaintances he’d made over the years. With these fellow gourmets he would share the culinary knowledge he’d gleaned from his journeys in the east and west. Most unusual for a lord of his rank, Dorian came to spend a great deal of time in his kitchens, testing out recipes himself. On occasion, the dishes he served to his guests for these small, intimate gatherings would be the work of his own hands. The membership did vary from time to time, both based on who could make it and who he sought to bring together. Rather than a fully closed circle, the League is more like a form of feasting, only it’s done for a much smaller crowd, without the public spectacle. Such occasions allowed for more refined foods which did not need to be served to hundreds and kept constantly warm over the course of hours like some common tavern stew. It also opened up an arena of more intimate diplomacy and negotiation for those who sought it, hosted on neutral ground by a lordly mediator, free from prying eyes.
Timeline:
25BC: Dorian is born, second in line to Longtable
24BC: His sister Lydia is born
9BC: House Merryweather hosts House Gardener for a tourney and feast. Dorian and his older brother Bennard serve the dish of honor to King Mern Gardener and his family. During the subsequent tourney, Mern knights both boys, despite their inexperience and lack of victory in the tourney
9BC-2BC: Dorian spends much time travelling the reach, attending events
1BC: Dorian and Bennard fight in the vanguard at the Field of Fire. Both are burned, Bennard far more severely than Dorian. Lord Merryweather is killed. Traumatized by the battle and his new maimed body, Bennard starts refusing food. Dorian desperately tries to re-create the dish they served King Mern eight years ago. The cook who made it has since gone senile, but eventually manages to help Dorian re-create it. He is given a place at court as apology for his mistreatment at Dorian's hands before this occurred.
1AC: Lord Bennard dies at the beginning of the year, leaving Dorian as lord of Longtable. His sister Lydia fulfills her betrothal to House Tarly, becoming lady of Horn Hill. At the prospect of marrying a Dornishwoman on the King's orders, Dorian decides to leave Westeros to put off his marriage. In Myr, he meets a woman calling herself Maryah, claiming to be a Tyroshi merchant. They fall in love and travel to Lys together. There Dorian promises to set aside his betrothal for her, whereupon she reveals herself as Joanna Dayne, his dornish betrothed.
1AC-4AC: Dorian and Joanna wed at Longtable, then depart on a new journey of the east. They reach as far as Qarth before turning back home. In 3AC, on the way back, their first child, Florys, is born while the couple are in Volantis, on the way home. They return via the newly built port of King's Landing.
4AC-8AC: Using knowledge from the east, Lord Dorian embarks on a project of rationalizing the agriculture of Longtable
5AC: Dorian and Joanna have their second child, a girl named Ellyn
8AC: Their third daughter, Desmera, is born
13AC: Dorian and Joanna spend a year travelling the northern free cities
14AC: Their fourth and final daughter, Gwin, is born
17AC: Dorian and Joanna undertake a journey to the Summer Islands with their children
23AC: The aftermath of the battle of Stonebridge brings back memories of the Field of Fire, as the Merryweathers watch burning slag run down the Mander
25AC: The Merryweathers travel to the celebration of the maturity of Aegon's sons
Family Tree:
Arthor Merryweather (father, d.1BC)
Cerelle Merryweather (pending family connection) (mother, d.20AC)
Bennard Merryweather (brother, d.1AC)
Lydia Merryweather (sister, b.24BC)
Glendon Merryweather (uncle, d.1BC)
Myrcella Pommingham (aunt, d.22AC)
Leo Merryweather (cousin, b.13AC)
Joanna Dayne (wife, b.26AC)
Florys Merryweather (daughter, b.3AC)
Ellyn Merryweather (daughter, b.5AC)
Desmera Merryweather (daughter, b.8AC)
Gwin Merryweather (daughter, b.13AC)
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Auxiliary Character:
Name and House: Florys Merryweather
Age: 23
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: [A short, muscular woman with wavy black hair, normally worn in a bun. She has high cheekbones and a proud demeanor. Her rigid strength stands in contrast to the more relaxed nature of the Merryweather court, one she finds overly lax and casual](0_0.png (896×1344) (discordapp.com))
Trait: Hale
Skills: Swords (e), Essosi Blademaster
Talents: Dancing, Fishing, Cooking
Negative Traits: N/A
Starting Title: Heir to Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Timeline:
3AC: Florys is born in Volantis, while her parents are on their way home from Essos
10AC: Florys starts training under Saathos Trevelyan, her father's Master at Arms
13 AC: She joins her parents on a tour of Pentos, Braavos, Norvos and Qohor
17AC: She travels with her parents to the Summer Islands
19AC-23AC: As she comes of age, Florys becomes more critical of her father's desire for peace, viewing it as increasingly far-fetched amid the increasingly controversial regency and the impending succession dispute. She resolves to make the kinds of connections her father seems unwilling to, in case of war
25AC: She accompanies her family to the celebrations
NPCS:
Ser Leo Merryweather (Age: 37, Archetype: Magnate) Lord Merryweather's first cousin, he has become an indispensable agent in the daily running of Longtable. Despite his foppish demeanor and aparent laziness, he is highly capable and loyal in his task of increasing his family's fortune. He remains happily unwed
Saathos Tevelyan: (Age:48, Archetype: Master at Arms) The son of a Lysene father and a Myrish mother, Saathos initially sought a career in amongst Myr's military officers, however his family's relatively low status proved an impediment to further promotion, later compounded by a dispute with a superior. He met Lord Merryweather in 3AC and eventually travelled West to offer his services five years later, finding his career progress stonewalled in his home city. Well into middle age, he still looks firm and imposing as profesisonal a soldier ought to
2024.05.14 09:41 mamafihin0kcui Between the Victory Parade and the Military Cemetery
On the occasion of the 79th anniversary of the end of the war with the Third Reich, some (not all) federal subjects of Russia have held victory parades. Local authorities from Moscow to Sakhalin found themselves in a difficult situation. On the one hand, they need to demonstrate to people military equipment and personnel, which obviously lack due to the ongoing war against Ukraine. On the other hand, the complete rejection from celebrations of the anniversary of the end of the war with Nazi Germany does not correspond to the Kremlin's policy of total dominance of propaganda and ideological mobilization of the population around the Leader.
The Russian authorities did their best to resolve this dilemma. For example, a long lines of the military on Moscow’s Red Square was replaced by the holders of the Hero of Russia title for special merits in the ongoing war against Ukraine. In turn, the absence of long columns of military equipment at the parade in Moscow was compensated by a demonstration of the most modern and threatening weapons of the Russian Federation – Yars intercontinental ballistic missiles (actually, this is a modernized version of the Soviet Topol-M missile), Iskander-M ballistic missiles (which is still a Soviet development) and the S-400 Typhoon air defense complex (a modernized version of the Soviet S-300).
As for the personnel, according to open Russian resources (published obituaries, articles about losses in regional media, eulogies proclaimed by representatives of local authorities), since the large-scale invasion of Russian troops into Ukraine, 55 thousand people have been buried on the territory of the Russian Federation. This figure exceeds all the human losses of the USSR and the modern Russian Federation since the end of World War II on September 2, 1945, and until now. That is, from the Korean War, many conflicts and proxy wars in Asia and Africa to Afghanistan and, finally, to the two Russian wars in Chechnya. Of course, the USSR and then the Russian Federation has always underestimated and hidden real losses in the wars and conflicts of the second half of the 20th century. However, the figure of 55,000 is only losses with verified personal information about fallen soldiers and a place of their burial.
At the same time, over the past two years, unofficial military cemeteries have appeared in a number of federal subjects of the Russian Federation (mostly in the Rostov and the Krasnodar region). In addition, military personnel are often buried quietly in existing cemeteries and even in mass graves. According to local Russian public activists, several cemeteries with buried members of the Wagner PMC were demolished (there were even memorials in some places) after the Kremlin’s suppression of the failed mutiny of the PMC in the summer of 2023.
It is assumed that the large losses in the war against Ukraine made the authorities to cancel the “Immortal Regiment” action (it is the great march with portraits of fallen soldiers) this year. The authorities concluded that this year the participants of the actions would not come out with photos of their ancestors - participants of the Second World War (as was usual), but with a lot of pictures of men who died in Ukraine today.
According to the intelligence services of Western countries and independent Russian investigators (their calculations practically coincide), from 150,000 to 200,000 people died during the two years of the large-scale invasion (Russia's war against Ukraine itself began in 2014). Moreover, this number does not include such categories as the missing, seriously injured, disabled without limbs, severely contused and, in fact, terminally ill (for example, those who got radiation sickness in the radiation zone around Chornobyl, or those who got a severe form of tuberculosis). All these categories are additional tens of thousands of people.
The Russian authorities continue to involve their country and all population into the world of neo-imperial illusions by hiding new military cemeteries in the country and holding victory parades, equating the former struggle with Nazism with the current conquest of the Ukrainian state (which was artificially declared neo-Nazi). All this once again confirms the Kremlin’s stance to continue the war until complete victory.
submitted by mamafihin0kcui to EuropeanFederalists [link] [comments]
The Russian authorities did their best to resolve this dilemma. For example, a long lines of the military on Moscow’s Red Square was replaced by the holders of the Hero of Russia title for special merits in the ongoing war against Ukraine. In turn, the absence of long columns of military equipment at the parade in Moscow was compensated by a demonstration of the most modern and threatening weapons of the Russian Federation – Yars intercontinental ballistic missiles (actually, this is a modernized version of the Soviet Topol-M missile), Iskander-M ballistic missiles (which is still a Soviet development) and the S-400 Typhoon air defense complex (a modernized version of the Soviet S-300).
As for the personnel, according to open Russian resources (published obituaries, articles about losses in regional media, eulogies proclaimed by representatives of local authorities), since the large-scale invasion of Russian troops into Ukraine, 55 thousand people have been buried on the territory of the Russian Federation. This figure exceeds all the human losses of the USSR and the modern Russian Federation since the end of World War II on September 2, 1945, and until now. That is, from the Korean War, many conflicts and proxy wars in Asia and Africa to Afghanistan and, finally, to the two Russian wars in Chechnya. Of course, the USSR and then the Russian Federation has always underestimated and hidden real losses in the wars and conflicts of the second half of the 20th century. However, the figure of 55,000 is only losses with verified personal information about fallen soldiers and a place of their burial.
At the same time, over the past two years, unofficial military cemeteries have appeared in a number of federal subjects of the Russian Federation (mostly in the Rostov and the Krasnodar region). In addition, military personnel are often buried quietly in existing cemeteries and even in mass graves. According to local Russian public activists, several cemeteries with buried members of the Wagner PMC were demolished (there were even memorials in some places) after the Kremlin’s suppression of the failed mutiny of the PMC in the summer of 2023.
It is assumed that the large losses in the war against Ukraine made the authorities to cancel the “Immortal Regiment” action (it is the great march with portraits of fallen soldiers) this year. The authorities concluded that this year the participants of the actions would not come out with photos of their ancestors - participants of the Second World War (as was usual), but with a lot of pictures of men who died in Ukraine today.
According to the intelligence services of Western countries and independent Russian investigators (their calculations practically coincide), from 150,000 to 200,000 people died during the two years of the large-scale invasion (Russia's war against Ukraine itself began in 2014). Moreover, this number does not include such categories as the missing, seriously injured, disabled without limbs, severely contused and, in fact, terminally ill (for example, those who got radiation sickness in the radiation zone around Chornobyl, or those who got a severe form of tuberculosis). All these categories are additional tens of thousands of people.
The Russian authorities continue to involve their country and all population into the world of neo-imperial illusions by hiding new military cemeteries in the country and holding victory parades, equating the former struggle with Nazism with the current conquest of the Ukrainian state (which was artificially declared neo-Nazi). All this once again confirms the Kremlin’s stance to continue the war until complete victory.
2024.05.14 09:38 NeinLive Qanon killed the last remaining good pieces of my mother.
I mean she was a neglectful meth head, but when my grandfather let me see her behind my grandmothers' back she seemed to really want to foster a relationship with me.
I was already very eclectic but she introduced me to so many concepts and art and seemed to be supportive of me being openly queer in my teens.
We used to watch scary movies and go to metal shows together, dumpster diving, etc. She really should've never had a kid. She's a big kid herself and I'm not mad about that. She's always cared about animals more than herself too, often having dozens of dogs at a time that she'd find homes for.
In 2019 I let her move in with me when I still had my old home because my aunt committed probate fraud against the both of us and made her homeless. I took her and 15 dogs in because my aunt was driving back and forth past my house trying to intimidate me and I was terrified to be home alone.
My mom wasn't perfect but at least she wasn't like her mother, the conservative nut who raised me...or so I thought.
Lockdown happens and she lost it. She was already up all the time but I'd constantly hear her in these chat rooms with these weird ass men and what made it cringy was how much of a pick-me she was with them.
One time she invited one of her qanon friends over so they could roast me because I don't believe the earth is flat. She literally laughed at me and said ________ has always been ...impressionable hahaha.
She began talking shit about Trans people and started thinking everyone is actually a man. It wasn't long until she was vocal about her disdain for me being gay too. She was never so hateful before, and by her own logic she's probably a man too. She's definitely got the arms of a navy seal and the jawline of someone participating in the fellatio Olympics.
She began inviting all these other awful people to my house, and her meth dealer boyfriend who carried a cross for two years in our town. Even he gets sick of her rants on nasa, vaccines, and transwomen even though he partially agrees her.
I haven't seen her or sent a picture since before my 30th birthday. I'm 31 now and it's because everytime she calls its because she needs to borrow my ID or social security for some bs reason. She ruined my credit and it's taken me years to fix it.
I didn't bother to bring up top surgery to her because I didn't want to hear her vitriol or bronze age mythology references stating that jahovah had a "special role" for me as a "helper" to some scrote. She's already larping like that with breaking bad over there.
Not to mention She's been on the vaccines cause autism train for years, despite the fact that her brother and mother are both on the spectrum and there's a high possibility she is too. I have audhd, the adhd part most likely being from her smoking meth during pregnancy.
I think her homophobia towards me stems from her wanting to be a grandmother but best I can do is four legged cuties.
But on a lighter note I've figured out what I want to send her as a Christmas card:
Me, with my top surgery scars, holding my cat like a baby, by a 5g tower, a NASA hat and a vest that says AUTISM RULES, while I sodomize my equally genderfluid lover while they hold up our vaccine cards.
Whatcha think
submitted by NeinLive to QAnonCasualties [link] [comments]
I was already very eclectic but she introduced me to so many concepts and art and seemed to be supportive of me being openly queer in my teens.
We used to watch scary movies and go to metal shows together, dumpster diving, etc. She really should've never had a kid. She's a big kid herself and I'm not mad about that. She's always cared about animals more than herself too, often having dozens of dogs at a time that she'd find homes for.
In 2019 I let her move in with me when I still had my old home because my aunt committed probate fraud against the both of us and made her homeless. I took her and 15 dogs in because my aunt was driving back and forth past my house trying to intimidate me and I was terrified to be home alone.
My mom wasn't perfect but at least she wasn't like her mother, the conservative nut who raised me...or so I thought.
Lockdown happens and she lost it. She was already up all the time but I'd constantly hear her in these chat rooms with these weird ass men and what made it cringy was how much of a pick-me she was with them.
One time she invited one of her qanon friends over so they could roast me because I don't believe the earth is flat. She literally laughed at me and said ________ has always been ...impressionable hahaha.
She began talking shit about Trans people and started thinking everyone is actually a man. It wasn't long until she was vocal about her disdain for me being gay too. She was never so hateful before, and by her own logic she's probably a man too. She's definitely got the arms of a navy seal and the jawline of someone participating in the fellatio Olympics.
She began inviting all these other awful people to my house, and her meth dealer boyfriend who carried a cross for two years in our town. Even he gets sick of her rants on nasa, vaccines, and transwomen even though he partially agrees her.
I haven't seen her or sent a picture since before my 30th birthday. I'm 31 now and it's because everytime she calls its because she needs to borrow my ID or social security for some bs reason. She ruined my credit and it's taken me years to fix it.
I didn't bother to bring up top surgery to her because I didn't want to hear her vitriol or bronze age mythology references stating that jahovah had a "special role" for me as a "helper" to some scrote. She's already larping like that with breaking bad over there.
Not to mention She's been on the vaccines cause autism train for years, despite the fact that her brother and mother are both on the spectrum and there's a high possibility she is too. I have audhd, the adhd part most likely being from her smoking meth during pregnancy.
I think her homophobia towards me stems from her wanting to be a grandmother but best I can do is four legged cuties.
But on a lighter note I've figured out what I want to send her as a Christmas card:
Me, with my top surgery scars, holding my cat like a baby, by a 5g tower, a NASA hat and a vest that says AUTISM RULES, while I sodomize my equally genderfluid lover while they hold up our vaccine cards.
Whatcha think
2024.05.14 09:36 Khorde__the__Husk BattlePostings Game Rules
i like Warhammer 40k, but 40k doesnt afford you the abilty to let you play your own custom character or faction if it isnt up to certain specs in tournaments(lore strict rules). and running an army battle in dungeons and dragons is overly complicated unless you ignore a bunch of rolls and rules.
i propose a blend of both. who's cannon takes place in the cosmos of perspective.
(you make your own faction cannon. )
each unit type has user generated has one data sheet, each named character you have would have their own data sheet.
the models can be 3-D printed or kitbashed, but they must be at 1/36 scale. essentially one infantry= one of those cheap plastic army men standing at 5 cm tall.
from here, this was typed up before today, by a few months. there is no campaign.
but i would imagine a new fandom in table top roleplay would be born regardless
___________________________________________________________________________________________
WELCOME TO BATTLEPOSTINGS T.T.R.P.G.
A tabletop rpg for diy, model painting, kit bashing, 3-DPrinting, and plastic army battling enthusiasts.
all parts of this game are user generated, with the exception of the rules. Though u/Khorde__the__Husk sent this to a bunch of redditors for help in balancing the game and setting up basic play structure.
Things to note:
· You must have one “advisor” per two warlords in the session. Advisors, act as the game master to make sure no one is cheating. If there is confusion on what kind of weapon a unit has in their hands or equipped to their armor, the Advisor has final say. The advisor is supposed to keep the game fair.
· In theory you could have as many players as you want, but no more than four is recommended because turns consist of multiple phases that are meant to organize the battle strategy for each player.
· Players are encouraged to kit bash, 3-D print, or purchase traditional plastic army men. For the sake of scaling, follow the scaling of the image below. But you must have your own general. It is recommended that your general be unique, make it yours. Have fun.
· Players can make their own campaigns and lore. Such attempts are encouraged. For the purposes of release, you can follow the campaign I have written.
· For any session, you will need a handwritten or typed general’s reference stats Dossier, 1D20, tape measure, and an army of which you will fight with. (painted)
· When rolling on a check, higher is always better. 20 is always a success
· Your armies stats are fixed and defined in this document. Your general’s stats are dictated by the roll of a 1d20. These stats are:
o morale
o Movement speed
o Accuracy
o Health points
o Punch
· Turns are split into phases.
o bombardment
o Movement
o Attack/counter attack
· The different types of units are:
o Infantry
o Armor
o Airborne
o B.A.M.(BIG ASS MACHINES)
· We play at a 1/36 scale. All models are at that scale.
· Ability checks logic below:
20=crit hit/sucsess
1=jam(gun)/woopsie(melee)/crit fail
To succeed , a unit must roll their combined ability score. This is their base ability +general ability. Debuffs such as kickback only are applied to whatever you rolled when you roll for an ability check.
Regardless, the fundamental rules of this game will apply to your creations. these are an assortment of rules designed to keep the game fair and guard against unfair players(referred to as God-Emperors or God-empresses) and hopefully combat power creep.
Now lets expand upon these ideas so you can have fun kit-bashing and army smashing quicker.
GENERAL’S (named character) STAT DOSSIER
Your army’s stats are based on your general’s stat Dossier. The leader of a nation is oft a good indication of how high of a quality their army’s going to be.
The first thing you should write is your general’s name, then write their bio. Their bio includes their background, their homeland, what politics are involved (if any). It is not recommended that you write a novel, you have a game to play. What are the weapons that your general will have on their person? What are their character traits? How will those traits affect how the game is played?
The next thing to do is to make a picture of your General that resembles the piece you kit-bashed for your general to be. It can be menacing, wholesome, serious or whacky. As long as the design choices resemble what your army has for their design and your general’s character traits. It doesn’t have to be hand drawn. A photo of your piece will suffice. no general may have a skill number higher than 16.
ARMY STAT DOSSIER:
what good is a king without a kingdom?
terrible.
each type of unit gets one ARMY STAT DOSSIER. you can have as many scout infantry you want, but you need a dossier on how they are deployed, what weapons they use, and most importantly, THEIR STATS. make sure your unit type description is comprehensive including what styles of combat they are trained for. this could influence your decisions on how you play. give them lore for shits and giggles. no unit may have a skill number higher than 15.
WEAPON STAT DOSSIER
this is the list of weapon types and their ability modifiers.
when attacking bare handed, you go by your unmodified stats.
STATS EXPLAINED AND BORING SHIT
Now comes the part with the dice. You only need 1d20. This is to reduce the confusion.
· Morale
Rolled by 1d20, checked by 1d20 per unit.
Morale is basically moral law. How far will your troops go to follow your orders? If your morale over a given unit is 1, the unit in question is shell shocked for one whole turn, to be marked with a yellow slip. If your unit is shell shocked, it is traumatized to where it cant follow any orders on the next turn. If for some reason the morale hits 0, that unit defects and must be marked with a red token. Units that defect are now under control of your enemy. If defected units hit 0 authority again, it simply dies. Suicide. Cowards way out.
The Morale that your general has over friendly units is base unit morale +the general’s modifier. Your general’s base Morale is the number you rolled the 1d20 for. If for any reason your general’s morale score goes below 0, the general must rally all nearby troops (within 30cm) to protect the general for one turn on the next turn. If your general’s morale hits zero, you get shell shocked, and your general cannot take action for one turn and if your general was within line of sight of any other allied unit, the observing unit cannot take action either.
· Movement Speed
Rolled by 1d20, measured by cm on a measuring tape or meter stick because inches suck.
Movement speed is how much ground a given unit can cover. Unless your object has a punch score higher than the hp of an obstacle, or can fly, you will have to go around the obstacle. There are exceptions. If the obstacle is below the knee of an infantry unit, the infantry or whatever can climb over at the cost of the individual unit climbing modifier.
The base movement speed of your general influences the movement speed of your troops. To find a troops total movement speed:
Your unit’s base movement speed + your general’s base movement speed = total troop movement speed. See army stat dossier or named character stat dossier.
· Accuracy
Rolled by a 1d20, checked by 1d20 per unit
Accuracy must be rolled every time a unit attacks an enemy unit.
Accuracy is basically the chance of your selected troop hitting their targets. Different weapons and vehicles have different accuracy modifiers(aka kickback or x-range), and different types of troops have different base accuracies. Accuracy can affect enemy/friendly Health points or morale. If a shot hits near enough to a troop, or makes a kill close enough to another troop, the troops affected must undergo a morale check with the exception to nearby friendlies of any troop who gets an enemy kill.
Explosives and artillery have an area of effect. any troop within the inner blast radius (with the exception of troops behind sufficient cover) is dead. Any in sufficient cover, or within the outer blast radius must make a morale check. Sufficient cover is a piece of the environment which has an assigned hp that is higher than the punch of an explosion.
Small arms fire requires line of sight for targeting. The path of bullets is a straight line, keep this in mind when deciding collateral damage. Friendly fire is a thing and it is a war-crime. If you want to play nightmare mode, your general gets summoned to a military court tribunal and executed if three friendly troops or more die as a result of friendly fire that occurred by your command.
Melee combat can only be conducted during movement phases. If its melee vs gun there is the variable of line of sight. If the melee unit is within line of sight, the gun unit has advantage. If the melee unit is outside of line of sight of the gun unit, the melee unit has advantage.
To find your troop’s accuracy:
general’s base accuracy+ troop base accuracy- kickback. The higher the accuracy the better.
· Punch
Punch is how much damage a unit causes to another unit or object should they pass their accuracy check. Different weapons pack a different punch. Remember to add their bonus to the punch check roll.
When attacking an obstacle or object, units must roll against the hp of the object. If the roll lands on a number that meets or beats the hp, the object or obstacle is destroyed.(marked with red sticky note and can be traversed as if the object was destroyed. Bullets pass thru within reasonable trajectories, no ricochet)
When attacking units, whatever is rolled is subtracted from the victim’s hp. The victim can only move at half of their normal movement speed afterward.(treaded, wheeled, and airborne vehicles excluded from the debuff even if they are hit. They are treated as obstacles with the addition of the passed accuracy check requirement.)
· Health points(hp)
Health points are what determines how close your units or general is to kicking the bucket. In any game mode, If your general kicks the bucket, you lose. If you have no units other than your general, you lose and your general must go into hiding. each unit and general may have no more than 10hp. powercreep is bad
UNIT CLASSES
Unit Classes are determined by how big the individual unit is, and how it traverses the battlefield. The smallest and most common all the way to the biggest and most intimidating of units are all fit into several categories by what they look like. To solve disagreements on what class your unit is, the advisor has final say. Disagreements should be easy to avoid if you design your units properly. It would be useful to stick to a theme. Candy punk, steampunk, horror, medieval, sci-fi, and historical designs are all fine, you could even come up with your own. A theme will be better for discerning friendlies from you enemies. At the same time, make your units discernable enough that players and especially advisors can easily determine what classes your units are.
· Your general/warlord, whatchacallit
Your general is the most valuable unit because it is what you have to control your forces. Without a wise and strategic leader, your forces will fall into disarray and you will lose the war. You can only have one general, and you made it yours. Kitbashing and 3D printing would likely be your most common means of gaining a general. They must take resemblance of the general on your general stat dossier they can swim in water terrain for two turns before they drown.
· Infantry
The easiest to acquire and kit bash. This allows for vast hordes of infantry, or small fireteams, or something in between. Find your play style. Your infantry should be as tall as the plastic green army men in the image below. These men and women are the bravest of them all.
they can swim in water terrain for two turns before they drown.
· Armor
Mainly made up of vehicles and smaller mechanical suits, must be land based. Expect tanks, jeeps ,Humvees, calvary mounted animals etc. here is an image I ripped for scale as to the largest example of armor you can have. Not my drawing. Its basically the largest tank ever built replace the man in the image with one infantry and you have your scale. Or 0.283333333 m* 0.283333333 m *0.5m
these machines will break down in water terrain.
· Airborne
Airborne units can only fly. They can drop bombs, airdrop armotroops, and attack up to one target per gun that the aircraft is equipped with(within range) as they move. Their biggest weakness is anti-aircraft weaponry and enemy aircraft weapons. How big can an aircraft be?
2.44 meters. X 2.44 meters by 0.60 meters is your maximum for all airborne units.
any airborne that fly like a plane have a +4 to their movement stat but can only bomb ground units 15 cm in front and attack any unit that is in front of it
anything that flies like a helicopter does not have this buff or debuff, they can shoot at any target, but can only use missiles for up to 15 cm on ground units.
NAVAL VEHICLES
Naval vehicles can be big or small, but they can only operate in the designated water terrain area. they can carry troops, they can fire artillery, depth charges, missiles, torpedoes, and submarines can hide below water for three turns before air runs out. but they can be spotted by sonar. if a submerged vessel is within 10 cm of an enemy surface or submarine vessel, the enemy vessel can act as if they know where the submerged vessel is even if the submerged vessel is still submerged.
· B.A.M. ‘s
Big Ass Machines are basically giant robots and massive land ships. These can be Game breaking depending on how you build them and how big you build them. They can fire upon one target per weapon. how big Can these be? They cannot be more than 1.5 meters tall or take up a ground area larger than 4 meters. Players are not allowed to use functioning motor vehicles including, but not limited to cars, trucks, busses, etc. rule of thumb, if you can ride it, you can’t play it. It might as well be just fan art. The maximum distance these can move at any time is 2000cm. to move these, they must make a special movement check. War machines of that size can get stuck easily, so subtract your general’s movement speed from your final roll on each check. If they are larger than the specified limits, you’ve built a giant immobilized obstacle for one turn.
Mobile terrain essentially is a whole battlefield or obstacle of its own. The biggest difference is that anything other than B.A.M. compatible units that are attached to the B.A.M'S can’t be removed from the B.A.M.'S. Artillery such as main guns can’t move, only rotate. same with S.A.M.S. , C.R.A.M.S., and anti aircraft weaponry.
EQUIPMENT AND ARMAMENT
Guns and RE’S(ranged explosives)Require a reload period(one full turn) every so often. Dual wield is an ability that is only applicable to infantry equipment . dual wield only applies when two identical weapons are in both hands of a single unit. Range is how far a weapon can fire before a debuff is added to your accuracy roll. For every 10 cm beyond the stated range, an x-range debuff of -1 is added.
Overheat can only occur on weapons that are labeled with overheat. Every time a gun with overheat is about to fire , a coin must be tossed. If the coin lands on heads, the gun overheats. Overheating will cause the unit to explode. The explosion will deal 1d20 damage to anyone/anything within a 6 cm radius. You only need to roll once.
Cone is a special debuff. Weapons with cone Can only fire at sequential targets within 25 degrees of original target.
im having trouble with deciding the individual weapon stats. so ive decided that i am going to leave those up to you. (the moment i hear people are getting into fights IRL, i will be putting in an elaboration which will settle all disputes regarding equipment and artillery... and i wont be happy about it.)
players are encouraged to record their battles in battle reports and post it online in their relevant subreddits. if they win/lose, then the player is encouraged to come up with a lore reason for any change in tactics, named characters(generals), or stats.
an army is considered overpowered if they can take out all opponents in as little as 10 turns. they must be nerfed if this happens. dont forget to add a lore reason for this occurrence in the battle report.
unlike overpowered, underpowered armies can be taken out in 10 turns. they must be buffed if this happens. dont forget to add a lore reason for this occurrence in the battle report.
this is sci-fantasy/high fantasy, battles are supposed to be epic and economically exaggerated.
write the name of the weapon, the type of weapon.(melee or gun) and its accuracy and punch modifiers.(bare hands is melee and equal to. magic is gun)
spells must be vetted in good faith by advisors prior to the game to prevent game breakage. spells may not kill units or generals in one blow. spells effects can only last one turn unless its a healing spell. healing spells cannot heal more than 5 health points at a time per unit. write out the spells you have for your units and have them vetted by an advisor, advisor will determine gamebreakability of the spell. if spell is determined to be game breaking, mid game, the advisor will have the offending spell removed and the turn undone. at wich point the offending player effectively must alter their strategy in the spirit of good sportsmanship.) There are three approved arcane focuses, wands, staves, and hand casting, (one must not make them look like the caster is going to punch something, have them hold an orb or something.)
(the moment i hear that people get into IRL fights over spells, i will make a list of approved spells and a LONG LIST of forbidden spells. and no one will be happy. )
THE MOST IMPORTANT RULE
Dont be a dick, be a good sport, and have fun.breaking thegame intentionally is a dick move. advisors are encouraged to post their reports of game breaking spells so it may help me in the event Khorde__the__Husk has to revise the rules.
submitted by Khorde__the__Husk to Battlepostings [link] [comments]
i propose a blend of both. who's cannon takes place in the cosmos of perspective.
(you make your own faction cannon. )
each unit type has user generated has one data sheet, each named character you have would have their own data sheet.
the models can be 3-D printed or kitbashed, but they must be at 1/36 scale. essentially one infantry= one of those cheap plastic army men standing at 5 cm tall.
from here, this was typed up before today, by a few months. there is no campaign.
but i would imagine a new fandom in table top roleplay would be born regardless
___________________________________________________________________________________________
WELCOME TO BATTLEPOSTINGS T.T.R.P.G.
A tabletop rpg for diy, model painting, kit bashing, 3-DPrinting, and plastic army battling enthusiasts.
all parts of this game are user generated, with the exception of the rules. Though u/Khorde__the__Husk sent this to a bunch of redditors for help in balancing the game and setting up basic play structure.
Things to note:
· You must have one “advisor” per two warlords in the session. Advisors, act as the game master to make sure no one is cheating. If there is confusion on what kind of weapon a unit has in their hands or equipped to their armor, the Advisor has final say. The advisor is supposed to keep the game fair.
· In theory you could have as many players as you want, but no more than four is recommended because turns consist of multiple phases that are meant to organize the battle strategy for each player.
· Players are encouraged to kit bash, 3-D print, or purchase traditional plastic army men. For the sake of scaling, follow the scaling of the image below. But you must have your own general. It is recommended that your general be unique, make it yours. Have fun.
· Players can make their own campaigns and lore. Such attempts are encouraged. For the purposes of release, you can follow the campaign I have written.
· For any session, you will need a handwritten or typed general’s reference stats Dossier, 1D20, tape measure, and an army of which you will fight with. (painted)
· When rolling on a check, higher is always better. 20 is always a success
· Your armies stats are fixed and defined in this document. Your general’s stats are dictated by the roll of a 1d20. These stats are:
o morale
o Movement speed
o Accuracy
o Health points
o Punch
· Turns are split into phases.
o bombardment
o Movement
o Attack/counter attack
· The different types of units are:
o Infantry
o Armor
o Airborne
o B.A.M.(BIG ASS MACHINES)
· We play at a 1/36 scale. All models are at that scale.
- TERRAIN AND COVER
· Ability checks logic below:
20=crit hit/sucsess
1=jam(gun)/woopsie(melee)/crit fail
To succeed , a unit must roll their combined ability score. This is their base ability +general ability. Debuffs such as kickback only are applied to whatever you rolled when you roll for an ability check.
Regardless, the fundamental rules of this game will apply to your creations. these are an assortment of rules designed to keep the game fair and guard against unfair players(referred to as God-Emperors or God-empresses) and hopefully combat power creep.
Now lets expand upon these ideas so you can have fun kit-bashing and army smashing quicker.
GENERAL’S (named character) STAT DOSSIER
Your army’s stats are based on your general’s stat Dossier. The leader of a nation is oft a good indication of how high of a quality their army’s going to be.
The first thing you should write is your general’s name, then write their bio. Their bio includes their background, their homeland, what politics are involved (if any). It is not recommended that you write a novel, you have a game to play. What are the weapons that your general will have on their person? What are their character traits? How will those traits affect how the game is played?
The next thing to do is to make a picture of your General that resembles the piece you kit-bashed for your general to be. It can be menacing, wholesome, serious or whacky. As long as the design choices resemble what your army has for their design and your general’s character traits. It doesn’t have to be hand drawn. A photo of your piece will suffice. no general may have a skill number higher than 16.
ARMY STAT DOSSIER:
what good is a king without a kingdom?
terrible.
each type of unit gets one ARMY STAT DOSSIER. you can have as many scout infantry you want, but you need a dossier on how they are deployed, what weapons they use, and most importantly, THEIR STATS. make sure your unit type description is comprehensive including what styles of combat they are trained for. this could influence your decisions on how you play. give them lore for shits and giggles. no unit may have a skill number higher than 15.
WEAPON STAT DOSSIER
this is the list of weapon types and their ability modifiers.
when attacking bare handed, you go by your unmodified stats.
STATS EXPLAINED AND BORING SHIT
Now comes the part with the dice. You only need 1d20. This is to reduce the confusion.
· Morale
Rolled by 1d20, checked by 1d20 per unit.
Morale is basically moral law. How far will your troops go to follow your orders? If your morale over a given unit is 1, the unit in question is shell shocked for one whole turn, to be marked with a yellow slip. If your unit is shell shocked, it is traumatized to where it cant follow any orders on the next turn. If for some reason the morale hits 0, that unit defects and must be marked with a red token. Units that defect are now under control of your enemy. If defected units hit 0 authority again, it simply dies. Suicide. Cowards way out.
The Morale that your general has over friendly units is base unit morale +the general’s modifier. Your general’s base Morale is the number you rolled the 1d20 for. If for any reason your general’s morale score goes below 0, the general must rally all nearby troops (within 30cm) to protect the general for one turn on the next turn. If your general’s morale hits zero, you get shell shocked, and your general cannot take action for one turn and if your general was within line of sight of any other allied unit, the observing unit cannot take action either.
· Movement Speed
Rolled by 1d20, measured by cm on a measuring tape or meter stick because inches suck.
Movement speed is how much ground a given unit can cover. Unless your object has a punch score higher than the hp of an obstacle, or can fly, you will have to go around the obstacle. There are exceptions. If the obstacle is below the knee of an infantry unit, the infantry or whatever can climb over at the cost of the individual unit climbing modifier.
The base movement speed of your general influences the movement speed of your troops. To find a troops total movement speed:
Your unit’s base movement speed + your general’s base movement speed = total troop movement speed. See army stat dossier or named character stat dossier.
· Accuracy
Rolled by a 1d20, checked by 1d20 per unit
Accuracy must be rolled every time a unit attacks an enemy unit.
Accuracy is basically the chance of your selected troop hitting their targets. Different weapons and vehicles have different accuracy modifiers(aka kickback or x-range), and different types of troops have different base accuracies. Accuracy can affect enemy/friendly Health points or morale. If a shot hits near enough to a troop, or makes a kill close enough to another troop, the troops affected must undergo a morale check with the exception to nearby friendlies of any troop who gets an enemy kill.
Explosives and artillery have an area of effect. any troop within the inner blast radius (with the exception of troops behind sufficient cover) is dead. Any in sufficient cover, or within the outer blast radius must make a morale check. Sufficient cover is a piece of the environment which has an assigned hp that is higher than the punch of an explosion.
Small arms fire requires line of sight for targeting. The path of bullets is a straight line, keep this in mind when deciding collateral damage. Friendly fire is a thing and it is a war-crime. If you want to play nightmare mode, your general gets summoned to a military court tribunal and executed if three friendly troops or more die as a result of friendly fire that occurred by your command.
Melee combat can only be conducted during movement phases. If its melee vs gun there is the variable of line of sight. If the melee unit is within line of sight, the gun unit has advantage. If the melee unit is outside of line of sight of the gun unit, the melee unit has advantage.
To find your troop’s accuracy:
general’s base accuracy+ troop base accuracy- kickback. The higher the accuracy the better.
· Punch
Punch is how much damage a unit causes to another unit or object should they pass their accuracy check. Different weapons pack a different punch. Remember to add their bonus to the punch check roll.
When attacking an obstacle or object, units must roll against the hp of the object. If the roll lands on a number that meets or beats the hp, the object or obstacle is destroyed.(marked with red sticky note and can be traversed as if the object was destroyed. Bullets pass thru within reasonable trajectories, no ricochet)
When attacking units, whatever is rolled is subtracted from the victim’s hp. The victim can only move at half of their normal movement speed afterward.(treaded, wheeled, and airborne vehicles excluded from the debuff even if they are hit. They are treated as obstacles with the addition of the passed accuracy check requirement.)
· Health points(hp)
Health points are what determines how close your units or general is to kicking the bucket. In any game mode, If your general kicks the bucket, you lose. If you have no units other than your general, you lose and your general must go into hiding. each unit and general may have no more than 10hp. powercreep is bad
UNIT CLASSES
Unit Classes are determined by how big the individual unit is, and how it traverses the battlefield. The smallest and most common all the way to the biggest and most intimidating of units are all fit into several categories by what they look like. To solve disagreements on what class your unit is, the advisor has final say. Disagreements should be easy to avoid if you design your units properly. It would be useful to stick to a theme. Candy punk, steampunk, horror, medieval, sci-fi, and historical designs are all fine, you could even come up with your own. A theme will be better for discerning friendlies from you enemies. At the same time, make your units discernable enough that players and especially advisors can easily determine what classes your units are.
· Your general/warlord, whatchacallit
Your general is the most valuable unit because it is what you have to control your forces. Without a wise and strategic leader, your forces will fall into disarray and you will lose the war. You can only have one general, and you made it yours. Kitbashing and 3D printing would likely be your most common means of gaining a general. They must take resemblance of the general on your general stat dossier they can swim in water terrain for two turns before they drown.
· Infantry
The easiest to acquire and kit bash. This allows for vast hordes of infantry, or small fireteams, or something in between. Find your play style. Your infantry should be as tall as the plastic green army men in the image below. These men and women are the bravest of them all.
they can swim in water terrain for two turns before they drown.
· Armor
Mainly made up of vehicles and smaller mechanical suits, must be land based. Expect tanks, jeeps ,Humvees, calvary mounted animals etc. here is an image I ripped for scale as to the largest example of armor you can have. Not my drawing. Its basically the largest tank ever built replace the man in the image with one infantry and you have your scale. Or 0.283333333 m* 0.283333333 m *0.5m
these machines will break down in water terrain.
· Airborne
Airborne units can only fly. They can drop bombs, airdrop armotroops, and attack up to one target per gun that the aircraft is equipped with(within range) as they move. Their biggest weakness is anti-aircraft weaponry and enemy aircraft weapons. How big can an aircraft be?
2.44 meters. X 2.44 meters by 0.60 meters is your maximum for all airborne units.
any airborne that fly like a plane have a +4 to their movement stat but can only bomb ground units 15 cm in front and attack any unit that is in front of it
anything that flies like a helicopter does not have this buff or debuff, they can shoot at any target, but can only use missiles for up to 15 cm on ground units.
NAVAL VEHICLES
Naval vehicles can be big or small, but they can only operate in the designated water terrain area. they can carry troops, they can fire artillery, depth charges, missiles, torpedoes, and submarines can hide below water for three turns before air runs out. but they can be spotted by sonar. if a submerged vessel is within 10 cm of an enemy surface or submarine vessel, the enemy vessel can act as if they know where the submerged vessel is even if the submerged vessel is still submerged.
· B.A.M. ‘s
Big Ass Machines are basically giant robots and massive land ships. These can be Game breaking depending on how you build them and how big you build them. They can fire upon one target per weapon. how big Can these be? They cannot be more than 1.5 meters tall or take up a ground area larger than 4 meters. Players are not allowed to use functioning motor vehicles including, but not limited to cars, trucks, busses, etc. rule of thumb, if you can ride it, you can’t play it. It might as well be just fan art. The maximum distance these can move at any time is 2000cm. to move these, they must make a special movement check. War machines of that size can get stuck easily, so subtract your general’s movement speed from your final roll on each check. If they are larger than the specified limits, you’ve built a giant immobilized obstacle for one turn.
Mobile terrain essentially is a whole battlefield or obstacle of its own. The biggest difference is that anything other than B.A.M. compatible units that are attached to the B.A.M'S can’t be removed from the B.A.M.'S. Artillery such as main guns can’t move, only rotate. same with S.A.M.S. , C.R.A.M.S., and anti aircraft weaponry.
EQUIPMENT AND ARMAMENT
Guns and RE’S(ranged explosives)Require a reload period(one full turn) every so often. Dual wield is an ability that is only applicable to infantry equipment . dual wield only applies when two identical weapons are in both hands of a single unit. Range is how far a weapon can fire before a debuff is added to your accuracy roll. For every 10 cm beyond the stated range, an x-range debuff of -1 is added.
Overheat can only occur on weapons that are labeled with overheat. Every time a gun with overheat is about to fire , a coin must be tossed. If the coin lands on heads, the gun overheats. Overheating will cause the unit to explode. The explosion will deal 1d20 damage to anyone/anything within a 6 cm radius. You only need to roll once.
Cone is a special debuff. Weapons with cone Can only fire at sequential targets within 25 degrees of original target.
im having trouble with deciding the individual weapon stats. so ive decided that i am going to leave those up to you. (the moment i hear people are getting into fights IRL, i will be putting in an elaboration which will settle all disputes regarding equipment and artillery... and i wont be happy about it.)
players are encouraged to record their battles in battle reports and post it online in their relevant subreddits. if they win/lose, then the player is encouraged to come up with a lore reason for any change in tactics, named characters(generals), or stats.
an army is considered overpowered if they can take out all opponents in as little as 10 turns. they must be nerfed if this happens. dont forget to add a lore reason for this occurrence in the battle report.
unlike overpowered, underpowered armies can be taken out in 10 turns. they must be buffed if this happens. dont forget to add a lore reason for this occurrence in the battle report.
this is sci-fantasy/high fantasy, battles are supposed to be epic and economically exaggerated.
write the name of the weapon, the type of weapon.(melee or gun) and its accuracy and punch modifiers.(bare hands is melee and equal to. magic is gun)
spells must be vetted in good faith by advisors prior to the game to prevent game breakage. spells may not kill units or generals in one blow. spells effects can only last one turn unless its a healing spell. healing spells cannot heal more than 5 health points at a time per unit. write out the spells you have for your units and have them vetted by an advisor, advisor will determine gamebreakability of the spell. if spell is determined to be game breaking, mid game, the advisor will have the offending spell removed and the turn undone. at wich point the offending player effectively must alter their strategy in the spirit of good sportsmanship.) There are three approved arcane focuses, wands, staves, and hand casting, (one must not make them look like the caster is going to punch something, have them hold an orb or something.)
(the moment i hear that people get into IRL fights over spells, i will make a list of approved spells and a LONG LIST of forbidden spells. and no one will be happy. )
THE MOST IMPORTANT RULE
Dont be a dick, be a good sport, and have fun.breaking thegame intentionally is a dick move. advisors are encouraged to post their reports of game breaking spells so it may help me in the event Khorde__the__Husk has to revise the rules.
2024.05.14 09:22 arazac My favorite picture of my weekend trip to the Black Forest, Germany.
 | submitted by arazac to europe [link] [comments] |
2024.05.14 09:16 Axell-Starr Would I be in the wrong if I got a refund through Etsy?
So I commissioned a chin to shoulder length dark blue shaggy wig with a white trim for a cosplay.
The artist has a no cancellation, no refund, no return policy but it's covered under Etsy buyer protection and I have reached out to customer service. I will be contacting the seller before I go the refund route.
I am new to what is a good price for a simple custom wig, and what to look for when finding someone to make one for me. I fully admit that I made a mistake not looking longer and going with the first artist that responded.
Anyway, she changed the colour from a dark blue to a black without asking me if it's ok, changed the bangs from cheek length to middle of the forehead length, and changed it from a shaggy mop head (think similar to emo boy hair from the mid 2000's) cut to a hime cut with bangs that end in the middle of the forehead. The whites, despite being visible all around the characters tips, they were basically non existent.
I was optimistic with the first pictures and I admit I told the artist I liked it at first because I 1 the first set of pictures looked blue and only noticed the wrong colour in the second set and 2 I thought she was going to extent the bangs and what she showed me was the beginning and not the finished product. When I asked if the colour could be changed the artist said no, that it couldn't be done at all and no alterations could be done. This was an item I paid in the triple digits for. And it's something that had changes made to it without being asked first and eventually received an item that looks nothing like what I asked for.
The artist has a no refunds policy and gave me something completely different than I wanted. Would it be ok, after putting in a help request with the artist, I get a refund through Etsy?
submitted by Axell-Starr to Etsy [link] [comments]
The artist has a no cancellation, no refund, no return policy but it's covered under Etsy buyer protection and I have reached out to customer service. I will be contacting the seller before I go the refund route.
I am new to what is a good price for a simple custom wig, and what to look for when finding someone to make one for me. I fully admit that I made a mistake not looking longer and going with the first artist that responded.
Anyway, she changed the colour from a dark blue to a black without asking me if it's ok, changed the bangs from cheek length to middle of the forehead length, and changed it from a shaggy mop head (think similar to emo boy hair from the mid 2000's) cut to a hime cut with bangs that end in the middle of the forehead. The whites, despite being visible all around the characters tips, they were basically non existent.
I was optimistic with the first pictures and I admit I told the artist I liked it at first because I 1 the first set of pictures looked blue and only noticed the wrong colour in the second set and 2 I thought she was going to extent the bangs and what she showed me was the beginning and not the finished product. When I asked if the colour could be changed the artist said no, that it couldn't be done at all and no alterations could be done. This was an item I paid in the triple digits for. And it's something that had changes made to it without being asked first and eventually received an item that looks nothing like what I asked for.
The artist has a no refunds policy and gave me something completely different than I wanted. Would it be ok, after putting in a help request with the artist, I get a refund through Etsy?
2024.05.14 09:12 milfdoesabodygood123 Rolex Daytona 126500 CF
 | Qc for Rolex Daytona 126500 submitted by milfdoesabodygood123 to RepTimeQC [link] [comments]
7.Hands. Looks good 8.bezel. Don’t notice anything too light or too dark 9.solid end links. Nothing too crazy, I don’t notice any gaps 10.time grapher numbers
|
2024.05.14 09:09 Prestigious_Duck_332 No access to front door
 | No access to the front door. I had this entire house clean at one point. I was secretly selling stuff on ebay putting it in boxes and throwing out trash behind their backs. Once it got fully clean they noticed and were angered. It caused them to mass hoard in which I replied with throwing all their new junk stuff like clothes that didn't fit them they bought in. Mass at garage sales in the trash. Which caused them to threaten to kill me. Fast forward 2 years of a fully clean house to threats to my life im at the point where I can't walk without banging into something. There is trash avalanches. There is moths feces and urine everywhere. The house is worth 700k. My parents didn't earn their way to this house they were boomers who had everything handed to them like all the boomer generation did. They have never given me a penny all my life. I live in destitute and squaller and I feel deep down in my heart this is a concentration camp and gulag. I feel like I have some kind of concentration camp or some kind of war like ptsd. submitted by Prestigious_Duck_332 to ChildrenofHoardersCOH [link] [comments] There is yelling and screaming from 9 am -1am the only time of peace is at night. The dogs bark all day and shit and piss all over the house. My parents scream to the point where I have busted my eardrums many times and they got infected to where I needed anti biotics. I learned to stay away from them while the dogs or barking or they are screaming because my ears explode. The food in the fridge has a mold odor to it. The two car garage is filled to the top with trash and isn't accessible. The living room isn't accessible. My room is the only clean room in the house and because of that my parents are verbally abusing me to put stuff in it because there is no space to hoard stuff anywhere else. Health effects from the abuse Ptsd Anemia Scurvy Asthma Trouble breathing when they turn the heat on Spikes of pain to my head like headaches Feeling like I'm about to have a stroke High blood pressure 160/109 is my last reading Unable to sleep properly. When I sleep i don't even wake up like I slept and that I got a good night's sleep. I wake up exhausted and have very poor sleep. There is always random screaming at night sometimes to. The only time I was actually able to sleep was when they went on vacation for a week. There was no yelling screaming or terrorist attacks inflicted on me. Which caused me to actually feel like what it was to wake up refreshed. That was the only time I went to sleep and woke up like I actually slept normal when they were away on vacation. Can't have a sleep schedule I have developed some sort of MRSA infection on my foot. I went to the doctor thinking they would say I needed to have it chopped off. They said it was just "exzema" which i actually doubt because i never seen anything like that on my foot before. But the medicine cleared it up slightly. Cop abuse = cops have shown up 100+ times to fist bump my parents and say good job on the abuse and leave once some neighbor or a delivery driver calls the police. Dealing with them is abuse in itself. Their plastic badges power trips its just a waste of fucking time they disgust me. I am now 30 and could never escape the hoard or abuse. My parents would never allow it. Even though they were handed everything in life like a boomer pension and got a 30 dollar an hour job and pension and all the money they collect I am now 30 and they haven't given me a single penny all my life. Not a dime. Thats republican love for you right there bring kids into the world cover them in dog feces then abuse them and watch fox news all day. They raised me to be homeless when they die. I live in misery and I'm constantly tired all day and night. I have 1000$ to my name and never had a job or drivers license. I will never escape this abuse and life my parents and family never wanted me to be independent. The only thing that could save me is some kind of hard ship grant I hear some people get but I would never get that. This is what happens when you don't escape the hoard early. When the judge who presided over your case gave you back to your parents. Cps approved, judge approved, cop approved abuse. Life of misery. The pictures with the dog was when I was working on cleaning the house. Before they said they were going to harm me if I didn't allow them to hoard. Now you can see the after picture you can't even see that black couch anymore and where the dog was laying its now trash piles up to the ceiling. I am tired all day like I have some kind of undiagnosed health problem now the fatigue is severe. My room is the only clean room in the house. So if I die soon of an undiagnosed health problem they can hoard this room to. I have gone to the doctor. All they have diagnosed me with was low iron and high blood pressure 160/120 130BPM. I honestly think these doctors don't want to diagnose someone with something that could give them social security. It probably goes against their handbook or something. I also cannot leave the house. You need a car to leave the house. Its a sub division and gated community. There isn't even a store i can walk to because the sub division just leads to a highway with no sidewalks. |
2024.05.14 08:57 IHatevideogamesQ Asian dating
I lived in America my whole life and have never dated an Asian woman it’s like they avoid black men it sucks because I’m attracted to them but feel like I stand no chance unless I go to a different country
submitted by IHatevideogamesQ to AsianDatingStruggles [link] [comments]
2024.05.14 08:56 Noel_Ann Homeless and beaten at the hands of my ex
What happened when I came out to my ex
So we were introduce by a Kendra Lee Taylor (filler generic name) (her at the time best friend), and she was Jessica Lilly Wilson (another filler generic name) . And this is what happened
Sooo. For one, I'm transgender. (Mtf), and I was with my abusive ex (cis woman), since literally high-school. We were together for a long time, I told her I would ".Wear women's clothes, and fantasize about being a woman. And for some reason dressing as one in private helped me cope sometimes." I also had expressed that sometimes it would cause me to get turned on (what the trans community later described as 'euphoria erections'). She didn't mind, atleast she said she didn't, she said she thought it was sexy, she liked a 'guy in touch with his feminine side' ,and she was bisexual anyways. I had coped with my gender issues (which i didn't fully realize were gender issues due to upbringing) , by just having these private escapes, often with her as an audience. She turned it more and more sexual though. Often whenever I was just relaxing in fem clothes she ALWAYS progressed it to sex. Now I had a bit of a 'being dominated' fetish I'm not gonna lie. But often she wanted me to do things I thought were really.gross. like making me sit in our sex juices, or sit with my own ejaculate on myself. She had a weird and honestly sick fetish for stuff like that. Specific to males in panties. And I kinda just coped with life with the mentality of " well I get to have the family the 'good Christian kid' and his high-school sweetheart. And my mother will one day look at grand babies and love the hell out of em, and that'll make all this worth it. Also I want to clarify, Post transition (so as a woman) I would be a lesbian. I've never been attracted to men. Another reason why my gender issues confused me so much. I also ALWAYS was just as honest with my partner (my abuser), as I was with myself at any given time in regards to this issue. So its not like I was a total closet case to my at the time gf. Sadly my mother got really sick. And no. She didn't make it. She went rather fast. It was devastating, tbh we had a more matriarchal system in our household, despite our father being a religious zealot. She ran the home, and he normally caved to what she wanted. I became so deeply depressed I was going to genuinely kill myself. Eventually one day I just told my partner, " I need to explore my fem side and figure out what this gender issue is, and I need to fully explore it, to see if my feminine side is just latent desires I couldn't act on when younger or if I was actually trans. " she VERY reluctantly , and angrily one day took me to get some clothes of my own. A padded bra, multiple women's underwear, and some thigh highs, and agreed to let me continue to borrow some of her stuff, until I got more items. We began exploring. Well I did, she kept trying to fetishize it, and when I told her no, or when I stayed dressed even after sex. She would get beyond huffy with me. She started getting more and more mean to me as I continued to explore in a non sexualized way. I eventually one night extremely scared and sobbing, told her I was trans and there was nothing anyone could do to fix it. So I braced for impact, expecting her to break up with me. I was astounded she said " There is nothing wrong with you, its the 2020s, and people are becoming more accepting now." I was terrified, knowing my dad was never gonna accept it, and my brothers were a coin toss, though I knew my.younger one most likely wouldn't care. And I didn't think my older one really would either but still. Hiwever as I continued in my path to coming out as a transwoman. She got more and more verbally and maliciously abusive, she sabotaged things I was beginning to try, she berated me constantly and even tried to delay my coming out. I eventually started dressing as a woman full time, except at work. And around my bio family. I started hrt in private, except my partner and her parents knew. (She was my abuser not my partner). She turned from a sweet borderline feminist, and fairly sensible liberal gal, to an irl reddit cringelord for lack of a better term. She started taking these really jacked up takes, that she never espoused before, and calling me names like " gender retard". I kept pleading with her to stop, that if she wanted to break up we just could, I'd need some time to find a place, but everything could be amicable (btw I was clear that this option always was on the table), and It was ok if she didn't wanna stay alot of couples split after a transition and that doesn't make you a bigot. But if you want to keep trying, please stop mistreating me. Several of my friends had wanted me to dump her for how she was acting. But I foolishly believed she loved me and was just having a hard time. But eventually she dumped me and at the worst time, I had lost a job , got a new job, and had to leave it for safety reasons and was basically financially dependent on her, despite wanting to leave but needing an exit strategy. She turned our new apartment (after we fled her parents house) into a horror house. I still to this day have nightmares of waking up on the couch with her about to walk through the door. The abuse was horrible. At one point comongntoca head with her brutally beating me black and blue. I didnt fight back. Within a few weeks I was on sidewalks. We had a savings account that I had helped build for over SEVEN years. And it was in her name. And she kept all of it. I was homeless and still technically am. But am housed. I don't know how to have peace. I see her when I close my eyes. I hear her insults in my head. And I'm STILL recovering from her financial abuse. What do I do? Please...
submitted by Noel_Ann to Life_stories [link] [comments]
So we were introduce by a Kendra Lee Taylor (filler generic name) (her at the time best friend), and she was Jessica Lilly Wilson (another filler generic name) . And this is what happened
Sooo. For one, I'm transgender. (Mtf), and I was with my abusive ex (cis woman), since literally high-school. We were together for a long time, I told her I would ".Wear women's clothes, and fantasize about being a woman. And for some reason dressing as one in private helped me cope sometimes." I also had expressed that sometimes it would cause me to get turned on (what the trans community later described as 'euphoria erections'). She didn't mind, atleast she said she didn't, she said she thought it was sexy, she liked a 'guy in touch with his feminine side' ,and she was bisexual anyways. I had coped with my gender issues (which i didn't fully realize were gender issues due to upbringing) , by just having these private escapes, often with her as an audience. She turned it more and more sexual though. Often whenever I was just relaxing in fem clothes she ALWAYS progressed it to sex. Now I had a bit of a 'being dominated' fetish I'm not gonna lie. But often she wanted me to do things I thought were really.gross. like making me sit in our sex juices, or sit with my own ejaculate on myself. She had a weird and honestly sick fetish for stuff like that. Specific to males in panties. And I kinda just coped with life with the mentality of " well I get to have the family the 'good Christian kid' and his high-school sweetheart. And my mother will one day look at grand babies and love the hell out of em, and that'll make all this worth it. Also I want to clarify, Post transition (so as a woman) I would be a lesbian. I've never been attracted to men. Another reason why my gender issues confused me so much. I also ALWAYS was just as honest with my partner (my abuser), as I was with myself at any given time in regards to this issue. So its not like I was a total closet case to my at the time gf. Sadly my mother got really sick. And no. She didn't make it. She went rather fast. It was devastating, tbh we had a more matriarchal system in our household, despite our father being a religious zealot. She ran the home, and he normally caved to what she wanted. I became so deeply depressed I was going to genuinely kill myself. Eventually one day I just told my partner, " I need to explore my fem side and figure out what this gender issue is, and I need to fully explore it, to see if my feminine side is just latent desires I couldn't act on when younger or if I was actually trans. " she VERY reluctantly , and angrily one day took me to get some clothes of my own. A padded bra, multiple women's underwear, and some thigh highs, and agreed to let me continue to borrow some of her stuff, until I got more items. We began exploring. Well I did, she kept trying to fetishize it, and when I told her no, or when I stayed dressed even after sex. She would get beyond huffy with me. She started getting more and more mean to me as I continued to explore in a non sexualized way. I eventually one night extremely scared and sobbing, told her I was trans and there was nothing anyone could do to fix it. So I braced for impact, expecting her to break up with me. I was astounded she said " There is nothing wrong with you, its the 2020s, and people are becoming more accepting now." I was terrified, knowing my dad was never gonna accept it, and my brothers were a coin toss, though I knew my.younger one most likely wouldn't care. And I didn't think my older one really would either but still. Hiwever as I continued in my path to coming out as a transwoman. She got more and more verbally and maliciously abusive, she sabotaged things I was beginning to try, she berated me constantly and even tried to delay my coming out. I eventually started dressing as a woman full time, except at work. And around my bio family. I started hrt in private, except my partner and her parents knew. (She was my abuser not my partner). She turned from a sweet borderline feminist, and fairly sensible liberal gal, to an irl reddit cringelord for lack of a better term. She started taking these really jacked up takes, that she never espoused before, and calling me names like " gender retard". I kept pleading with her to stop, that if she wanted to break up we just could, I'd need some time to find a place, but everything could be amicable (btw I was clear that this option always was on the table), and It was ok if she didn't wanna stay alot of couples split after a transition and that doesn't make you a bigot. But if you want to keep trying, please stop mistreating me. Several of my friends had wanted me to dump her for how she was acting. But I foolishly believed she loved me and was just having a hard time. But eventually she dumped me and at the worst time, I had lost a job , got a new job, and had to leave it for safety reasons and was basically financially dependent on her, despite wanting to leave but needing an exit strategy. She turned our new apartment (after we fled her parents house) into a horror house. I still to this day have nightmares of waking up on the couch with her about to walk through the door. The abuse was horrible. At one point comongntoca head with her brutally beating me black and blue. I didnt fight back. Within a few weeks I was on sidewalks. We had a savings account that I had helped build for over SEVEN years. And it was in her name. And she kept all of it. I was homeless and still technically am. But am housed. I don't know how to have peace. I see her when I close my eyes. I hear her insults in my head. And I'm STILL recovering from her financial abuse. What do I do? Please...
2024.05.14 08:53 UnhappyCommission877 Why do some women defend awful men?
Y'all, I don't understand why women, especially black women, defend such terrible men. So I was scrolling through a bunch of live streams and I came across this man who was getting a lot of attention from women on his TikTok page. He started going on a rant about how women aren't sh*t and how women treat him badly. Meanwhile, on his page, he had videos of himself popping balloons for women and rating women while they were half-naked and blindfolded. He has a pretty big following on TikTok.
I responded to him by saying, "Imagine complaining about how women don't treat you right, yet you sexualize them all over your Instagram." He told me to shut up and then blocked me. And, of course, there were women rushing to his aid. One of the girls went on about how trifling my comment was. They were so mad at me. I'm confused as hell, I mean, really? It's like this is why black men get away with a lot of things because many black women don't like to hold them accountable. And when we do, they want to play the victim.
submitted by UnhappyCommission877 to blackladies [link] [comments]
I responded to him by saying, "Imagine complaining about how women don't treat you right, yet you sexualize them all over your Instagram." He told me to shut up and then blocked me. And, of course, there were women rushing to his aid. One of the girls went on about how trifling my comment was. They were so mad at me. I'm confused as hell, I mean, really? It's like this is why black men get away with a lot of things because many black women don't like to hold them accountable. And when we do, they want to play the victim.
2024.05.14 08:53 shaneka69 CANCER ZODIAC - UNEXPECTED INCOME! TAROT READING MAY 2024
CANCER ZODIAC TAROT READING - UNEXPECTED INCOME MAY 2024
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2024.05.14 08:49 Fair_Cartographer838 What could this dream mean? Loaded with violence and trauma/horror
I had a dream probably 12 years ago that I’ve never forgotten, during one of the darkest times in my life when I was scared I’d fail in life
The dream began in a volcanic Ashland where I was traveling with a ragtag band of refugees trying to escape some horrible volcanic event or maybe even super volcanic event, so we were all journeying through this grey valley flanked by ashen mountains with a few distant volcanoes, I was the leader of this group and they were depending on me to hopefully guide them to survival.
We came to a huge obsidian temple structure and it was built onto the valley wall so we had to climb it to ascend out of the valley, so we entered. But the building had an ominous energy like something dark was sleeping inside of it.
Part of the way up, a young boy in my group was running ahead even though I told him to wait and tried to run after him, but as happens in dreams my legs were like lead and I couldn’t keep up. I had this growing sense of dread.
Then the boy slipped off the edge over an overhang and as I looked down after him he plunged into a lava pool, burning to death. My sense of dread didn’t go away it only increased. Somehow I knew (maybe because it was a dream made by my own mind) that that wasn’t the only horror that awaited us in here, this place wanted all of us not just the boy.
That dread manifested as the boy came clawing his way out from the lava pit and let out a horrifying cry like a nazgul or a ghoulish undead, with his flesh bubbling and dripping off of his bones in places he began sprinting with inhuman speed back towards the entrance of the obsidian temple he had fallen from, right back into the entrance.
My band of refugees began panicking, torn between the anguish of watching the boy die and the horror dawning on them of what he had become- a monster- and why he would come sprinting back into the temple some floors below us.
We all heard the inhuman commotion as his undead body slammed into corners, so great was his speed, and we all realized rather abruptly that he was closing in on our group.
I urged the group to begin climbing the stairwells that wrapped around the precipices of this obsidian temple, up towards the valley wall. We had only one possible escape: somehow reaching the top and whatever salvation waited for us up there from the desolate volcanic wasteland and the undead monster that had once been a little boy. So we all begun to sprint, but we were slow.
some of the refugees had bags, some were elderly men and women, it began to dawn on me that we had no hope to escape as i heard the monster closing in from below. I turned to confront him, readying to fight with no weapons.
When he emerged he looked at me with his ghastly skull shining through his melted off face and he spoke and said "You did this to me so I will punish you by making you live while your people die." And he ran past me with superhuman speed and tore into my group, beginning to butcher these weak powerless refugees even as I tried to fight him, plead with him, even as I tried to urge them to keep running, he eventually killed every last one of them with his long ghoul clawed skeletal hands.
"Im sorry." i said to him. "Im sorry i let you become a monster." and he just smiled back at me and stepped off the ledge, plunging again into the lava, this time to rest eternal, but the carnage of my mangled people now lay all around me, and still the black obsidian stairway beckoned, leading up into the tallest passes of the ashen mountains where smoke and fog obscured the path, I had nobody left and nowhere to go but up.
So i went up. Up, up, up through winding valley corridors of sheer black jagged rockfaces, ascending thousands of steps until the atmosphere seemed thin and the night stars shone from above, the distant red glow of the lava flows fading to a dull reminder of the carnage i was leaving behind me.
eventually the climb slowed but the path continued and the stairs began to turn downwards, the rock walls opened up into a dusty grey plain of old ash that had blown here from distant eruptions in the ashlands below, but it was cold up here and dark, and the fog parted and i saw in the distance a structure, not ominous and unnatural like the obsidian temple but a human structure, a distant farmhouse, but I had a feeling when i looked down the winding stairs at this house like i was looking into the blackness of a night that has a rapidly approaching tornado, totally invisible, the sight of this farmhouse gave me a sense of existential dread greater than even the obsidian temple had inspired. But i knew i had to keep going forward anyways. So, with despair in every step, i put one foot infront of the next and kept walking.
As i approached the house I realized its scale, it was not some small farmhouse, more of a manse, and the stairs on this path led straight to its roof where the stairs that had once led down from its top were gone. There was only a gaping black hole in the roof, my only way forward was into this abandoned structure, so with a heart full of fear i lowered myself down into pitch blackness.
I found myself in an ash flooded attic full of furniture like old spinning wheels and some misshapen objects with soot stained sheets over them, the room was so very cluttered with dillapidated old stuff that i could hardly navigate it. I kept bumping stuff then I froze, because on thr far side of the room i saw a sillouhette standing motionless. A feminine sillouhette that seemed like it moved slightly as I brushed against an old desk, causing a noise.
As she reacted, she turned towards me and I saw her face, and her mouth hung open, her jaw split in two, one half dangling and the other holding a malicious grimace.
She moved like a squid striking out from inky blackness at its prey, lifting up off her feet and drifting rapidly to me, her mangled jaw soon centering around my field of view as her face filled my vision and she grabbed the sides of my head, talking to me
"You have to pay for what he did to us, you have to see it all"
And she entered me, i just remember at this point in my dream my vision was full of motion, like she had possessed me and was flying me through the pages of her own history book, in a misty ashen blur of colors and shapes i found myself chopping wood in a dark forest with green leaves around, when a rage filled every fiber of my being and i turned towards a tent, gripping my axe as i swung it through the fabric, turning it on my first wife (in my dream i understood this to be the vision of the woman's husband when he murdered her with his axe) and splitting her jaw and head open rather than any log
I was crying abd begging to be left alone and allowed to leave when we swirled back into the attic, and the ghost was standing right there with inhuman stillness, i couldnt look away from her mangled face as she said "now you know what he did to me…" and she slowly disappeared into a small mist
I was deeply disturbed and crying and disoriented as i looked around the attic and saw a small wooden panel with some grey filtered light showing through it and i went that way, but as i did another ghost of a different women, her neck angled violently screamed at me and grabbed me and possessed me, now I was her husband, the same man with his second wife wringing her neck as she turbed blue
In this manner a series of murdered women ghosts possessed me, forcing me to witness their deaths from the poijt of view of their killer, all killed by the same horrible man in different violent ways, in total 7 stories of 7 murders of 7 dead wives, and each one whisming me to another part of this forsaken farmhouse where they had lurked waiting for whichever man was unlucky enough to enter this cursed homestead
My experience dreaming this was mostly an unsettling amount of vertigo during the dream and images of violence and these ghastly faces of ghosts filling my vision before flying me to another room where another ghost would stand motionless waiting to possess me, the entire time i felt like i was crying and falling from a very extreme height
Eventually though the last ghost released me from her possession and i stood in the kitchen room where she stood with me, her face blue from drowning in a bath tub, and she smiled at mr and spoke more gently than thr others had, she reached to take my hand but when i flinched and screamed she dropped her arm back down to her side and just smiled sadly at me
"Thank you"
And she and all other ghosts were gone and it was just me alone in this forsaken manse's kitchen, and i heard a sound i never expected, trickling water. So i walked towards it and found a back door on the ground level which opened easily, and i stepped outside and saw some white, ash-filtered sunlight and a sight that took my breath away, about 300 yards away was a running river with lush green trees and plants and a thundering waterfall, and i knew that my trials had passed as i walked out towards the end of the ashlands with my boots squishing in fertile muddy soil, and i woke up completely drenched in a puddle of my own sweat
submitted by Fair_Cartographer838 to Dreams [link] [comments]
The dream began in a volcanic Ashland where I was traveling with a ragtag band of refugees trying to escape some horrible volcanic event or maybe even super volcanic event, so we were all journeying through this grey valley flanked by ashen mountains with a few distant volcanoes, I was the leader of this group and they were depending on me to hopefully guide them to survival.
We came to a huge obsidian temple structure and it was built onto the valley wall so we had to climb it to ascend out of the valley, so we entered. But the building had an ominous energy like something dark was sleeping inside of it.
Part of the way up, a young boy in my group was running ahead even though I told him to wait and tried to run after him, but as happens in dreams my legs were like lead and I couldn’t keep up. I had this growing sense of dread.
Then the boy slipped off the edge over an overhang and as I looked down after him he plunged into a lava pool, burning to death. My sense of dread didn’t go away it only increased. Somehow I knew (maybe because it was a dream made by my own mind) that that wasn’t the only horror that awaited us in here, this place wanted all of us not just the boy.
That dread manifested as the boy came clawing his way out from the lava pit and let out a horrifying cry like a nazgul or a ghoulish undead, with his flesh bubbling and dripping off of his bones in places he began sprinting with inhuman speed back towards the entrance of the obsidian temple he had fallen from, right back into the entrance.
My band of refugees began panicking, torn between the anguish of watching the boy die and the horror dawning on them of what he had become- a monster- and why he would come sprinting back into the temple some floors below us.
We all heard the inhuman commotion as his undead body slammed into corners, so great was his speed, and we all realized rather abruptly that he was closing in on our group.
I urged the group to begin climbing the stairwells that wrapped around the precipices of this obsidian temple, up towards the valley wall. We had only one possible escape: somehow reaching the top and whatever salvation waited for us up there from the desolate volcanic wasteland and the undead monster that had once been a little boy. So we all begun to sprint, but we were slow.
some of the refugees had bags, some were elderly men and women, it began to dawn on me that we had no hope to escape as i heard the monster closing in from below. I turned to confront him, readying to fight with no weapons.
When he emerged he looked at me with his ghastly skull shining through his melted off face and he spoke and said "You did this to me so I will punish you by making you live while your people die." And he ran past me with superhuman speed and tore into my group, beginning to butcher these weak powerless refugees even as I tried to fight him, plead with him, even as I tried to urge them to keep running, he eventually killed every last one of them with his long ghoul clawed skeletal hands.
"Im sorry." i said to him. "Im sorry i let you become a monster." and he just smiled back at me and stepped off the ledge, plunging again into the lava, this time to rest eternal, but the carnage of my mangled people now lay all around me, and still the black obsidian stairway beckoned, leading up into the tallest passes of the ashen mountains where smoke and fog obscured the path, I had nobody left and nowhere to go but up.
So i went up. Up, up, up through winding valley corridors of sheer black jagged rockfaces, ascending thousands of steps until the atmosphere seemed thin and the night stars shone from above, the distant red glow of the lava flows fading to a dull reminder of the carnage i was leaving behind me.
eventually the climb slowed but the path continued and the stairs began to turn downwards, the rock walls opened up into a dusty grey plain of old ash that had blown here from distant eruptions in the ashlands below, but it was cold up here and dark, and the fog parted and i saw in the distance a structure, not ominous and unnatural like the obsidian temple but a human structure, a distant farmhouse, but I had a feeling when i looked down the winding stairs at this house like i was looking into the blackness of a night that has a rapidly approaching tornado, totally invisible, the sight of this farmhouse gave me a sense of existential dread greater than even the obsidian temple had inspired. But i knew i had to keep going forward anyways. So, with despair in every step, i put one foot infront of the next and kept walking.
As i approached the house I realized its scale, it was not some small farmhouse, more of a manse, and the stairs on this path led straight to its roof where the stairs that had once led down from its top were gone. There was only a gaping black hole in the roof, my only way forward was into this abandoned structure, so with a heart full of fear i lowered myself down into pitch blackness.
I found myself in an ash flooded attic full of furniture like old spinning wheels and some misshapen objects with soot stained sheets over them, the room was so very cluttered with dillapidated old stuff that i could hardly navigate it. I kept bumping stuff then I froze, because on thr far side of the room i saw a sillouhette standing motionless. A feminine sillouhette that seemed like it moved slightly as I brushed against an old desk, causing a noise.
As she reacted, she turned towards me and I saw her face, and her mouth hung open, her jaw split in two, one half dangling and the other holding a malicious grimace.
She moved like a squid striking out from inky blackness at its prey, lifting up off her feet and drifting rapidly to me, her mangled jaw soon centering around my field of view as her face filled my vision and she grabbed the sides of my head, talking to me
"You have to pay for what he did to us, you have to see it all"
And she entered me, i just remember at this point in my dream my vision was full of motion, like she had possessed me and was flying me through the pages of her own history book, in a misty ashen blur of colors and shapes i found myself chopping wood in a dark forest with green leaves around, when a rage filled every fiber of my being and i turned towards a tent, gripping my axe as i swung it through the fabric, turning it on my first wife (in my dream i understood this to be the vision of the woman's husband when he murdered her with his axe) and splitting her jaw and head open rather than any log
I was crying abd begging to be left alone and allowed to leave when we swirled back into the attic, and the ghost was standing right there with inhuman stillness, i couldnt look away from her mangled face as she said "now you know what he did to me…" and she slowly disappeared into a small mist
I was deeply disturbed and crying and disoriented as i looked around the attic and saw a small wooden panel with some grey filtered light showing through it and i went that way, but as i did another ghost of a different women, her neck angled violently screamed at me and grabbed me and possessed me, now I was her husband, the same man with his second wife wringing her neck as she turbed blue
In this manner a series of murdered women ghosts possessed me, forcing me to witness their deaths from the poijt of view of their killer, all killed by the same horrible man in different violent ways, in total 7 stories of 7 murders of 7 dead wives, and each one whisming me to another part of this forsaken farmhouse where they had lurked waiting for whichever man was unlucky enough to enter this cursed homestead
My experience dreaming this was mostly an unsettling amount of vertigo during the dream and images of violence and these ghastly faces of ghosts filling my vision before flying me to another room where another ghost would stand motionless waiting to possess me, the entire time i felt like i was crying and falling from a very extreme height
Eventually though the last ghost released me from her possession and i stood in the kitchen room where she stood with me, her face blue from drowning in a bath tub, and she smiled at mr and spoke more gently than thr others had, she reached to take my hand but when i flinched and screamed she dropped her arm back down to her side and just smiled sadly at me
"Thank you"
And she and all other ghosts were gone and it was just me alone in this forsaken manse's kitchen, and i heard a sound i never expected, trickling water. So i walked towards it and found a back door on the ground level which opened easily, and i stepped outside and saw some white, ash-filtered sunlight and a sight that took my breath away, about 300 yards away was a running river with lush green trees and plants and a thundering waterfall, and i knew that my trials had passed as i walked out towards the end of the ashlands with my boots squishing in fertile muddy soil, and i woke up completely drenched in a puddle of my own sweat
2024.05.14 08:39 Fault-eden A Retro halloween /horror monsters illustration art book with a black cat on the cover
This was a colourful book with retro/ cartoon style drawings of different monsters. It was mainly an book of brightly coloured retro horror monsters illustrations with some writing in it about the monstes/ creatures. I got it in 2000's or 2010's and it was new at the time. The front cover was similar to a Retro halloween comic with greens and purples and had a black cat. I think there was a few different books in similar style but this one had pictures of Retro monsters in it. I think it had its own dust jacket as well.
submitted by Fault-eden to whatsthatbook [link] [comments]
2024.05.14 08:37 RentLittle963 Rug color for darkish carpet
 | I am moving into University owned apartments this upcoming Fall semester and the attached picture depicts the carpet that covers the whole apartment besides the kitchen and bathroom. I was thinking of adding a rug in my bedroom but I personally am leaning towards more earthy sage ish greens and maybe certain light browns and cream and my bed frame will be a black bar frame with a white desk and i’ll also have some plants around the room. What color should the rug be because I don’t want to have the bare grey ish carpet. I would prefer to stay clear of grey or black or an extremely white rug but I’m more lenient on the white. Thanks for any help! submitted by RentLittle963 to interiordecorating [link] [comments] |
2024.05.14 08:30 ImaginationSweet3840 frick my stupid baka life….
uhh should i do the gender and age thing lol (23n) well.. like everyone else here i’m extremely suicidal. it’s like i’m in a constant state of planning my death.. it’s been this way since the year started. i mean i’ve been suicidal for as long as i can remember but never to this extent. i’ve planned to kill myself tonight lol but i’ve planned many times before, written MANYY notes.. but then i usually just sleep it off and go about my life like “normal”. this time feels different. i feel like i’ve been falling into a black hole and am finally reaching the singularity. the point of no return. no hope. no will to live or change. well ig i’ll list my reasons for doing this. 1. i’m a stinker… sounds silly but i’m being so fr 😭 randomly in eighth grade i started to stink?? it took me awhile to realize it was ME stankin up the school w my chemical warfare.. i think it’s some form of tmau??? well whatever this condition is.. it’s made my life a fucking nightmare. halfway through 10th grade i dropped out. genuinely couldnt handle the bullying anymore and i would get panic attacks constantly… not a good time for me… well i mean its not like it ever any got better lol.
Naturally if one smells like a dumpster fire constantly no one would want to be around you.. so of course i no longer had any friends. and i probably would’ve still had some friends if i didn’t completely turn my back to the whole world. after dropping out in 2016 i wouldn’t go back into society until 2023 when i got my first job. i still stink.. my family says i don’t to my face but i hear them say i stink when they think i can’t hear em… not sure why they lie but i digress.. doctors and therapist also can’t seem smell anything. but when i’m out in public or at work i’ll hear people in passing talk abt how bad i smell… my mom is convinced i have schizophrenia LMAOOO like i KNOWWW i didn’t imagine allll those kids bullying me in middle school and high school LIKE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I FUCKING WISHHHHHHH IT WAS ALL JUST IN MY HEAD!!!!! also i should note… this condition has absolutely NOTHINGGG to do with my hygiene.. I PROMISE!!!! i always make sure i’m extremely clean and well groomed.. im sure everyone who passes me thinks im some disgusting person who doesn’t bathe or wipe properly but that’s never been the case so pls don’t tell me to “just shower”… it’s not that simple though i really wish it was.
moving along.. 2. i have really bad intrusive thoughts and a problem with starring at things i shouldn’t be looking at… so the intrusive thoughts started like a year into my self isolation.. i don’t really want to say what type but they cause immense distress.. after every intrusive thought i contemplate suicide like that’s how bad they are. as for the starring thing.. 😞 i think its also ocd related. but i stare at boobs, butts, privates, and feet.. i’m not sure how to explain this coherently.. but it’s like I KNOWW i’m NOT supposed to look but then my body just decides to look anyways. it feels like i have ZERO control over my own fucking eyes. and i promise there’s no sexual intention?? behind my stares.. but no one on the receiving end would think that. and unfortunately my eyes look at everyone including family, kids, men, women, literally everyone. AND I FUCKIBG HATE IT I WISH I WAS BLIND. my sisters think i’m some pervert and how can i live with myself knowing i’m causing them to feel unsafe and uncomfortable??? i’m not doing it on purpose. i just want to stab my fucking eyes out. this is honestly one of the main reasons for wanting to kill myself. i don’t even know when it started or fucking how?????? OR WHYY?? why do i struggle with the rarest fucking things?? like is there genuinely someone else out there who unintentionally stares at inappropriate things??? FRICK MY STUPID BAKA LIFE!!!!!!!!
oh i just remembered something… when i was in second or first grade my FULL sized dresser and box tv pretty much the size of me both fell on me.. tv hit the back of my head and by the will of god or something i managed to crawl out from underneath them.. now i went to hospital and had an x-ray done and it showed nothing but what ifffffff i had some sort of concussion that’s caused me to be this way????? i’m just talkin out my ass. but seriously why am i this way??? was i born this strange?? sigh.
i so desperately want to live a normal life. have friends. not stink. not stare unintentionally. but fuck i just don’t think that will ever be my reality. i’ve been stuck in this same cycle for 9 years. i’ve wasted NINE fucking years of my life. sometimes it feels like my brain never finished developing past the age of 13.. i’m already 23 and i’ve done absolutely nothing. no accomplishments no goals no dreams. it feels like im permanently stuck. so it often feels like death is the only way to escape my reality. im so lonely. but i don’t know how to be a friend. im lost. i want to go to college but like I STINK??? so i’ll just get bullied and outcasted again. y’all im stumped. i see no way out aside from death. but at the same time i’m scared there’s nothing after dying. so i live my whole life wasting away and finally decide to do something and kill myself but all that greets me after i’m dead is nothing. it all seems so bleak.
what if i’m just a bad egg?
i’ll be rlly surprised if anyone has read this far 💀 sorry any grammatical errors hehe i never graduated 🤓 this life fucking sucks so maybe in my next life i can be born as a cutieful pampered house cat… for now i think i’m just gonna go to sleep and let the cycle repeat. maybe one day i’ll find my way out of this hell. through death or something else. who knows. good night…
submitted by ImaginationSweet3840 to SuicideWatch [link] [comments]
Naturally if one smells like a dumpster fire constantly no one would want to be around you.. so of course i no longer had any friends. and i probably would’ve still had some friends if i didn’t completely turn my back to the whole world. after dropping out in 2016 i wouldn’t go back into society until 2023 when i got my first job. i still stink.. my family says i don’t to my face but i hear them say i stink when they think i can’t hear em… not sure why they lie but i digress.. doctors and therapist also can’t seem smell anything. but when i’m out in public or at work i’ll hear people in passing talk abt how bad i smell… my mom is convinced i have schizophrenia LMAOOO like i KNOWWW i didn’t imagine allll those kids bullying me in middle school and high school LIKE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I FUCKING WISHHHHHHH IT WAS ALL JUST IN MY HEAD!!!!! also i should note… this condition has absolutely NOTHINGGG to do with my hygiene.. I PROMISE!!!! i always make sure i’m extremely clean and well groomed.. im sure everyone who passes me thinks im some disgusting person who doesn’t bathe or wipe properly but that’s never been the case so pls don’t tell me to “just shower”… it’s not that simple though i really wish it was.
moving along.. 2. i have really bad intrusive thoughts and a problem with starring at things i shouldn’t be looking at… so the intrusive thoughts started like a year into my self isolation.. i don’t really want to say what type but they cause immense distress.. after every intrusive thought i contemplate suicide like that’s how bad they are. as for the starring thing.. 😞 i think its also ocd related. but i stare at boobs, butts, privates, and feet.. i’m not sure how to explain this coherently.. but it’s like I KNOWW i’m NOT supposed to look but then my body just decides to look anyways. it feels like i have ZERO control over my own fucking eyes. and i promise there’s no sexual intention?? behind my stares.. but no one on the receiving end would think that. and unfortunately my eyes look at everyone including family, kids, men, women, literally everyone. AND I FUCKIBG HATE IT I WISH I WAS BLIND. my sisters think i’m some pervert and how can i live with myself knowing i’m causing them to feel unsafe and uncomfortable??? i’m not doing it on purpose. i just want to stab my fucking eyes out. this is honestly one of the main reasons for wanting to kill myself. i don’t even know when it started or fucking how?????? OR WHYY?? why do i struggle with the rarest fucking things?? like is there genuinely someone else out there who unintentionally stares at inappropriate things??? FRICK MY STUPID BAKA LIFE!!!!!!!!
- i’ve been molested at pretty much every age and have always been “sexual” from a reallly early age ☹️ started w my cousin doing things to me i didn’t understand.. then my sisters uncle would grope me and make me kiss him. and he would like lick???? my neck??? idk there’s also this memory of someone on top of me while i sleep… yknow… doing things.. i was 13 or so and for a long time i thought the shadow hovering over me raping me was like a demon… 😭😭😭 i deadass thought i was raped by a demon LOL but recently i’ve going through my memories and yeah… that was definitely a person.. no clue who it could’ve been ☹️ i was too drowsy to do anything and i woke up in a panic and checked my underwear but didn’t see anything so ig my kid brain came to the conclusion that it was a demon.. sorry for the run on sentences 😞
oh i just remembered something… when i was in second or first grade my FULL sized dresser and box tv pretty much the size of me both fell on me.. tv hit the back of my head and by the will of god or something i managed to crawl out from underneath them.. now i went to hospital and had an x-ray done and it showed nothing but what ifffffff i had some sort of concussion that’s caused me to be this way????? i’m just talkin out my ass. but seriously why am i this way??? was i born this strange?? sigh.
i so desperately want to live a normal life. have friends. not stink. not stare unintentionally. but fuck i just don’t think that will ever be my reality. i’ve been stuck in this same cycle for 9 years. i’ve wasted NINE fucking years of my life. sometimes it feels like my brain never finished developing past the age of 13.. i’m already 23 and i’ve done absolutely nothing. no accomplishments no goals no dreams. it feels like im permanently stuck. so it often feels like death is the only way to escape my reality. im so lonely. but i don’t know how to be a friend. im lost. i want to go to college but like I STINK??? so i’ll just get bullied and outcasted again. y’all im stumped. i see no way out aside from death. but at the same time i’m scared there’s nothing after dying. so i live my whole life wasting away and finally decide to do something and kill myself but all that greets me after i’m dead is nothing. it all seems so bleak.
what if i’m just a bad egg?
i’ll be rlly surprised if anyone has read this far 💀 sorry any grammatical errors hehe i never graduated 🤓 this life fucking sucks so maybe in my next life i can be born as a cutieful pampered house cat… for now i think i’m just gonna go to sleep and let the cycle repeat. maybe one day i’ll find my way out of this hell. through death or something else. who knows. good night…
2024.05.14 08:21 curiousALLDAYHa Haram is haram.
Sadens me to see muslim sisters committing zina like it’s nothing, you wear a hijab, you are muslim, you post about sexual experiences with someone you arent married to? What the heck? Even muslim men, posting nsfw pictures of themselves, you lost yourself to this dunya, you live a short human life, your enjoyment will perish and you will be judged.
submitted by curiousALLDAYHa to u/curiousALLDAYHa [link] [comments]