#brass properties and uses

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that.

Note: If you prefer plain text, you can read the plain text version here.

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism.

By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism.

You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry.

After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces.

This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of this post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism.

Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED.

In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them.

But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[perseidlion]

Streaming in Kaos

Well, it happened. I can't say that I'm surprised that KAOS has been cancelled by Netflix. I am a little surprised at the speed at which it was axed. Only a month after it aired, and it's already gone.

That has me wondering if the decision to cancel was made before the show even aired. We have to remember that marketing is the biggest cost after production. If the Netflix brass looked at the show and either decided (through audience testing, AI stuff or just their own biases) that it wasn't going to be a Stranger Things-level hit, they probably chose at that moment to slash its marketing budget.

That meant there was pretty much no way that KAOS was ever going to hit the metrics Netflix required of it to get a season 2.

What makes me so angry about this (other than the survival of a show relying on peoples' biases or AI) is that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you decide before a show is ever going to air that it won't be a success, then it probably won't be. If you rely on metrics and algorithms and AI to analyze art, you will never let something surprise you. You'll never let it grow. You'll never nurture the cult hits of the future or the next franchise.

Netflix desperately needs people behind the scenes that believe in stories and potential over metrics. Nothing except the same old predictable dreck is ever going to be allowed to survive if you don't believe in the stories you're telling.

The networks and streamers have a huge problem on their hands. They need big hits and to build the franchises of the future to sustain their current model (which is horribly broken.) But people have franchise fatigue and aren't showing up for known IPs like they used to. The fact that Marvel content is definitely not a sure thing anymore is a huge canary in the coal mine for franchise fatigue. People aren't just tired of Marvel, they're tired of the existing worlds both on the big screen and the small one. Audiences are hungry for something new.

It is telling that the most successful Marvel properties of the last few years have been the ones that do something different. Marvel is smart to finally pull out The X-Men because that is a breath of fresh air and something people are hungry to see more of.

There's pretty much no one behind the scenes (except for maybe AMC building The Immortal Universe) that is committing to really taking the time to build these new worlds. Marvel built the MCU by playing the long game. That paid dividends for a solid decade even if it's dropping off now. That empire was built not with nostalgia for existing IP (don't forget the MCU was built with B and C tier heroes) but with patience. Marvel itself seems to have forgotten this in recent years.

Aside from that, I think people really want stories that aren't connected to a billion other things. That takes commitment on the part of the audience to follow and to get attached to. People WANT three to five excellent seasons of a show that tells its own story and isn't leaving threads out there for a dozen spinoffs. We're craving tight storytelling.

KAOS could have been that. Dead Boy Detectives could have been that. So could Our Flag Means Death, Lockwood and Co, Shadow and Bone, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, Willow, and a dozen other shows with great potential or were excellent out of the gate.

If you look at past metrics, you only learn what people used to like, not what they want now. People are notoriously bad about articulating what they want, but boy do they know it when they see it. Networks have to go back to having a dozen moderate successes instead of constantly churning through one-season shows that get axed and pissing off the people who did like it in a hamfisted attempt to stumble on the next big thing.

The networks desperately need to go back to believing in their shows. Instead, they keep cutting them off at the knees before they ever get a chance because some algorithm told them the numbers weren't there.

[pixelplayground]

Harbour House, Home of the Potomac Maritime Society

Commissioned in 1892 by James Wellington Thorndike, a prominent shipping merchant who made his fortune establishing trade routes between Baltimore and Asia. Having immigrated from Bristol, England in his youth, Thorndike sought to create a sanctuary that merged American innovation with European maritime tradition.

The original structure was designed by renowned architect Stanford White, who drew inspiration from both Newport's Gilded Age mansions and traditional English maritime clubs. The distinctive three-story building, with its commanding views of the Chesapeake, featured a signature octagonal watchtower that still serves as a landmark for vessels today.

During the Prohibition era (1920-1933), Harbour House gained notoriety as a gathering place for Washington's elite, who would arrive by boat for "afternoon tea" - though rumors persisted about hidden wine cellars and secret passages used for rum-running. The club's guest books from this period, still preserved in the library, bear signatures of several senators and at least two Supreme Court justices.

The property survived a devastating fire in 1943, which destroyed the east wing but spared the historic main hall with its hand-carved mahogany bar and original brass telescopes. The reconstruction effort, led by Thorndike's grandson William, added the now-famous verandas and modernized the facilities while maintaining the building's historic character. In 1962, Harbour House made history by becoming one of the first yacht clubs in the region to admit women as full members. This progressive decision was influenced by Katherine "Kay" Thorndike, William's daughter, who had become an accomplished sailor in her own right.

Notable moments in Harbour House's history include:

Hosting several planning meetings for the D-Day invasion during WWII, when the club served as an unofficial gathering point for Allied naval officers.

The visit of Sir Thomas Lipton in 1925 during his America's Cup campaign.

Serving as the emergency coordination center during the historic Chesapeake flooding of 1933.

The establishment of one of the first youth sailing programs in the region in 1958.

Today, Harbour House stands as a testament to the region's maritime heritage, with many original elements preserved, including:

The original lighthouse-inspired watchtower.

The Thorndike family's private collection of maritime maps and navigational instruments.

The "Captain's Room" with its 19th-century ship models and original furnishings.

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

⚔️ 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! War Pick of Backstabbing
Weapon (war pick), rare (requires attunement) ___ This war pick features a brass hand holding a silvered knife. Its blade and pommel create the weapon’s sharp and blunted ends, respectively. You gain a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon. If you have advantage on the attack roll and hit, the target takes an extra 2d6 piercing damage from the attack; you can deal this extra damage only once per turn. If you’re a rogue, you are proficient with this weapon, it has the finesse property for you, and the extra damage is considered to be Sneak Attack damage. If you score a critical hit against a creature with this weapon, the target must also succeed on a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw or become charmed by you for 1 minute. While it’s charmed, the target regards you and your companions as friends. On its turn, the charmed target uses its action to attack any creature that’s hostile toward you or your companions. The target can repeat the Wisdom saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. The effect ends early if you or your companions harm or threaten the charmed target. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[jazjelspen]

ex-girlfriend

jeff the killer x fem! reader

(you've dated Jeff the Killer since high school and have known him for longer. You stayed even after he became who he is now.. but what if you became stronger than him? what if you became a completely new person entirely? and left your heavy-hearted killer boyfriend to rot?)

(notes: took inspo from fanon Jeff but also tried to write him into his own person of course :) will try to be realistic when it calls for it + took some creative liberties in certain aspects too. I also apologize if the characterization of Jeff and others isn't super fitting.. I'm still getting used to how I want to express them and construct them as characters and the world around them.)

(CAUTION!!!: includes dark/serious themes, mention of murder/death, use of cannab1s, slight implications of s3x, toxic relationships, physical abu$3, possible ooc(?) )

(NOT PROOFREAD)

[part 1/2]

you and jeff are a killer duo.

seriously and figuratively.

you two have always been attracted to each other, a connection you two couldn't see but you both knew it was there.

the older and closer you two got, the more you two realized you had more in common than you two initially assumed..

way, wayyy more in common.

but to skip a long origin story short, let me give you some details on how you and Jeff suddenly got separated in the way that you did.

you see, you and Jeff resided at the Slender Mansion.. mostly just to get Slender off your backs due to you guys finding solidarity and a sense of safety in the deep dark forests, far away from home. it kept you two safe from police, as well as anyone or anything else that could be a threat.

of course, the specific area you went into was territory of the thin and tall boss of the forests.. and you would've been dead meat if you two didn't create a sort of alliance with the deity, not exactly proxies yet you two still had to trade something in return for your lives.. the lives and bodies of others seemed to quell Slenderman's hunger quite well.

nonetheless, tonight was one of those nights in which you and Jeff had to find more lives to take, blood to shed.

this night was different though, as Jeff was currently stuck in your shared room after going through a minor operation at the hands of Eyeless Jack, another being that came and left as he pleased.

"You think he'll recover quick?" You perked up as you watched EJ sew in the last stitch in a cut that reopened earlier as he was helping Jeff into your room, cutting up the thread before standing back as you two stared at your injured boyfriend from beside the bed he laid on.

"Not as quick as you may think," spoke EJ, his calm, raspy, and slightly demonic voice sounding monotone as he isn't intending to comfort you in the slightest but just to inform you. "Slenderman's healing properties can only work so fast, the rest depends on his own body's will to repair itself."

"Makes sense, with how much the victim fought back and the cops almost got him by a hair.. " you let out a huff through your nose before crossing your arms over your chest and shook your head slightly. "It has never gotten this bad before..." You murmured before moving away to open the door for EJ to find his way out. "I know you don't usually accept 'thank you's but, thanks. I owe you one for saving his ass."

"Hm." hummed the blue masked being. He may have the form of a human, and sound like one to a certain extent.. but he doesn't have the feelings of one for all you knew. "I'm sure you know how to stitch him up again if another injury reopens, I won't be here the rest of the week as I'll be doing my own business elsewhere."

"Got it.." You opened the creaky wooden oak door to let him through, and he left just as fast as he came in.

Closing the door behind you and letting go of the rusty brass door knob, you sighed in exhaustion.

"Yknow, you've been awfully quiet--"

"Shut the fuck up or I'm going to slice your throat."

Your shoulders dropped as soon as you heard Jeff's empty threat escape his throat. You walked closer to him, your shoes making small thuds and the wooden floors creaking beneath your feet.

"There you are." you cooed, finally hearing him talk after being silent the entire time.. incredibly out of character for him yet you were sure the shame of getting as injured as he is now and having to be 'taken care of' definitely got to him. "I almost started missing you."

"Get my knife, get the rest of your shit, and let's move.. we have people to kill for fucks sake.." Jeff's hoarse voice cracked even further as he attempted to sit up yet the pain coming from his abdomen only caused his nerves his fire up, making him fall back onto the moldy mattress yelping in pain. "You're absolutely stupid for even thinking you're able to go out tonight Jeff." You proceeded to sit on the empty side of the bed beside him, your hand slowly reaching over to gently caress his brutally cut up cheek yet your lover only harshly smacked it away with the back of his own hand. "So.. you're telling me you're going to ignore what I fucking telling you to do?" Jeff groveled and huffed in irritation, if he wasn't so incapacitated he'd probably be pulling you by your arm or hair to get you to do what he told you. "Since when have you gotten so brave, doll?"

"Since I followed you and helped you kill your own family that night." You pulled your hand away, reminiscing the night when your Jeff turned into who he is now.

You remembered how much your heart swelled when you saw him covered in his family's blood, his fresh cut up smile and red inflamed burns across his body and face. You continued to love him just as much as you did before he became so disfigured.

He was your religion, and you followed him in devotion.

"Now, we still have to keep our deal with the big boss right? I'll do your kills for the night, then when your better tomorrow we'll finish up whatever else we have to do.. or hell we can just kill for fun to make it up to you, " you hopped off the bed as you spoke and walked over to a wooden rotting vanity in the corner of your room, with drawers that were unable to close and doors that were hanging by their hinges. Your hand reached over to get an empty crunched up ziplock bag and continued on to walk back to your boyfriend with the object in your hand. "What do you say? I'll even get you some of the good stuff to make you feel better." you spoke lovingly, your hand with the bag grazing over his misshapen nose as he inhaled it deeply with a faint sense of delight. It still lingered the smell of his favorite thing to smoke and get high off of.. aside from your kisses and affection of course.

"Fuck that smells good.." he mumbled before his beady black eyes then suddenly shot up at you with this look of angry hesitation. "This is the only damn time I'm ever letting you out of my sight, make it quick, come back, and if you take a fucking second too long I'll get up and drag you back by your hair myself, got it gorgeous?.."

"You won't even have to bother Jeff." you bent over slightly to give him a quick peck on the lips, but just as much as he was addicted to the green he was also addicted to your warmth, your lips, your presence and self.

You couldn't help but have to suddenly sustain your own body weight by resting an arm beside Jeff's head as his own uninjured arm went to grab you by the back of your head to pull you closer in a deeper, much more passionate kiss.

Hearts beating aggressively in a dark passion that was just as fiery and scarlet as the blood you two would spill on the daily, the faint smell of dried blood, mud, and rubbing alcohol reeked as you two struggled to inhale air with your noises clashing against each other, his aggressive and hungry kisses tasting of iron but also of old cigarettes and booze.

Normally this would disgust any one else that wasn't you, but you liked the way he smelled, how he tasted.. it reassured you that this was in fact Jeff, your Jeff.

Eventually, he would finally let you go by harshly pushing you away in order to break the kiss. He knew that if you stayed any longer he was gonna want you all to himself for the rest of the night, as close to him as you physically could.

"Get out of here and get back, ______. Don't make me wait longer than I have to."

You smiled at him, a sweet and sinister little smile that would somehow always get him hard every time you did it.

"You've got nothing to worry about."

two weeks.

two weeks passed since you disappeared that night.

Jeff recovered the night after you left, but you could imagine the absolute horror and rage he felt when he realized you never came back later that night.

With other residents also living in the mansion, residents with personalities and have bits of humanity left similar to Jeff, you can also imagine the slight wave of rumors to those that knew or noticed the two of you in your years in the mansion. Some say you made a deal with Slender and got to leave, others say that you got kidnapped, that you got brainwashed, caught by police, sacrificed to another higher being, stuck in an asylum or- simply that you died. There were endless possibilities but they all ended the same:

you hung Jeff dry, left his grasp and simply didn't come back.

Jeff would obviously try to get in contact with Slenderman as to know your condition, since he knew that the deity had the consciousness and psyches of every being or person he's made some kind of contact with in his hands.

Although he had to go through one, two, three of Slender's proxies, just to have a word with him somehow.. He would eventually get a word from the big boss through one of his more well known lackeys.

"She's fine, Jeffery. She isn't dead, she hasn't made any deals with him, and she isn't injured to death or whatever." the annoyed and exasperated voice of Masky would echo in the empty halls that the pair stood in, the arms of the mustard-yellow colored jacket would fold over his chest while also being in a sort of stance that expressed the fact that he simply just didn't want to be there.

"Then why the hell is she not back?? Does he know where she could be? If she was kidnapped? If she got arrested or put in a fucking ward?" Jeff yelled in an almost desperate sort of tone yet he would never admit it openly.

"Look, I don't fucking care whether she's alive, dead, stuck in a fucking hole or hell! if she's sucking some other guy's dick that isn't yours! But all I know that is that if she left on purpose he would've already had me or one of the others to get her back, but he hasn't so maybe she's nearby or some shit like that."

Anyone around could see that Jeff was on the verge of reaching over for his knife and cut Masky in half, yet he knew better than to do that to him of all people. "Does he at least know where she is?? I'll get her myself if I have to just give me a fucking address, some place to know where she could be!.."

If Masky wasn't wearing a mask, he'd probably be rolling his eyes to oblivion, irritated beyond belief at something like this even being a problem. "No. But as I already fucking said, if he isn't asking one of us to chase her down and get her back then you shouldn't have to overreact the way you are right now." the proxy proceeded to brush past him without a care, but said one last small thing before he left Jeff's vicinity completely.

"By the way, stop bothering the other proxies about this as we could care less about your girlfriend, just get a new one and fuck off!"

Jeff stood there, trembling in an anger he hasn't felt since the day he attacked his bullies and his brother took the blame for it.

He wasn't exactly reassured, but he also knew that he was very limited and there wasn't much he could do.

But he was restless, so you bet your ass he was going to go look for you even if it was just stalking the streets and killing anyone in his wake.

luckily for him, his waiting would end soon enough.

the week after that, he'd get the news of his life.

he'd been killing all week, killing innocents as he usually did but at a quicker and animalistic pace, he would almost get caught this time by the cops yet again but before his spree could continue he received some news thanks to that cheeky voice that would speak to him through the screens.

he would come back to the mansion, battered and bruised beyond belief. the calluses on his hands split and bled, cuts everywhere all old and fresh, he was ruthless in his murders as well as he was careless.

he needed you to ground him, you were the reason as to why he has even been alive for as long as he has.

his hand seemed to be superglued to the handle of his sharpened knife even as he was dragging his legs towards EJ's basement, where he was led to believe he would find what he was looking for.

He aggressively banged on the metal door with his fist in anticipation, not being able to wait any longer than how much he's already had to. The one to answer the door would be Eyeless Jack as it is his "resting" place in the mansion so to speak.

Once the door opened Jeff would quickly push past EJ not needing to be accepted in the space for him to go in.

"Where is she??" he shouted, his voice boasting in the cold concrete room. "I was told you found her, where the fuck is she?"

EJ would calmly close the door before slowly leading Jeff towards a corner of the large space, where a long, clean-white room divider seemed to hide something.

well, more like someone.

That was when Jeff finally saw you, your limp body laying there and your face had this gentle expression you'd usually make when you were sleeping. Beside you stood Nurse Ann, who was gently cleaning the countless cuts and lacerations you had around your body with several cotton pads and changing gauzes as well.

Jeff's heart fell down to his stomach, he would've started reeling and throwing up if he didn't rush to take a closer look at you only to see that your chest was still rising and falling.

He sighed in relief.

"As you can see, she's alive." spoke EJ as he took a few steps closer, "Nurse Ann found her as she was coming back to the mansion, she found her body laying on the edge of where Slender's territory ends and the rest of forest. She also claims that ______ wasn't there when she left, so she probably appeared a little later that same day."

Jeff's hand trembled slightly as he reached out to touch your face with the back of his hand, yet hesitated slightly when his hand could almost feel the warmth of your skin.

But that's when he took a minute to really take in the rest of your appearance.

Your entire body even your face was dirtied in dried mud and soil, your fingernails were dirty and chipped, your arms and cheeks were decorated in scratches and cuts of various sizes, and your clothes.. seemed to have been replaced with a clean hospital gown and your missing shoes were replaced by socks.

EJ continued on, "And so you don't go attacking me, Nurse Ann changed her clothes. According to her they were tattered and beyond repair, and that they were completely soiled in blood."

"Blood?" Jeff spoke up in slight concern,

"The blood wasn't hers."

[saturndigital]

Stanley Pines as a Lord of Fortune from Dragon Age! Part of my Veil Falls AU

Design notes:

Shan'vel Aenadahl, Warrior Reaver, Member of the Lords of Fortune

Shan - Old, Vel - ship/vehicle, Aenadahl - Pine tree

Does not have Vallaslin (wishes he could have gotten it)

Wears Orlesian attire to confuse people about his true background

Took Stanford's name to keep running the "Shack" but isn't 100% trying to pretend to be him as he is well known by other lords

Uses one of Ford's elven artifacts as his cane, doesn't know what it does (currently)

Wears a necklace Ford left behind after being pushed into the Fade, unknown to him if it wields any magical properties

His brass knuckles are from his time in Rivain

Side note: I do want to do a more proper "Lord of Fortune" outfit for him later down the line, but that'll have to be when Veilguard releases and I get my grubby hands on that artbook LOL

[pfhwrittes]

have a chunk of tradie!141 for your reading pleasure.

it's fuckin' pourin' down, has been for the last 3 days and the forecast ain't getting any better. thick, claggy muck sucks at the soles of simon's boots, threatening to pull 'em straight off his feet as he crosses the quagmire to slip into the portakabin-cum-office where he knows his skipper'll be.

price is fumin' under his hard hat, his ancient brick of a phone glued to his ear as he barks out demands to whichever poor sod is gettin' an earful off the boss today (probably nik, who straight up refused to drive onto site, stating bold as brass that the wagon would get bogged down, fuck the delay, captain. i'm not hurting my girl for your timetable).

with a disgusted snort price throws the offending phone onto the cluttered desk sending a sheaf of papers careening onto the floor.

"fucks sake, riley. what d'ya want?" price growls out in his direction and simon just lifts a battered eyebrow at the tone. no point gettin' his knickers in a twist over weather but price has always thought himself better than acts of nature and god himself.

"told the lads to put the tools down and go 'ome."

if looks could kill, simon would be buried in a shallow grave under the portaloo. price's face is as stormy as the sky rumbling ominously outside.

"well tell 'em to pick them back up, for fucks sake! we've got a fucking job to do here, simon." price snaps, his patience well and truly gone and it isn't even dinner time by simon's watch.

simon's hi-vis jacket creaks forebodingly as he straightens up.

"no."

there's a beat as simon squares off against his skipper, the unstoppable force of john price smashing against simon's immovable iron will. simon's known john a long fuckin' time and he'll play dirty to keep the crew safe if he has to. john's seen him walk off jobs for less.

price sighs noisily, ruffling the ends of his moustache.

"right then. who're we losing?"

"gaz can't work with the humidity, ale and rudy can't paint if gaz ain't finished the plaster, don't trust soap not to fry 'isself, and flash is sat in the van dryin' out." simon counts off on his fingers.

price's eyebrows hike up to his hairline at the mention of the plumber's apprentice.

"'s matter with flash?"

simon chuckles at the memory of flash covered head to toe in mud after an unfortunate tumble.

"debuted 'is mud-wrestlin' career f'r us."

price snorts out an amused sound and shakes his head. poor sod'll be miserable for the rest of the day without any spare kit to change into.

"right, go on then. tell 'em they can fuck off for the day." price reaches for his abandoned phone, probably to tell the client, some jumped up property developer-slash-social media wanker, that the job's been delayed by the shit weather. (simon doesn't envy him in the slightest, last time he met her she looked him up and down like he was scum and he was tempted to "accidentally" score the side of her flash car with the end of a length of 22mm copper pipe.)

simon offers price a nod and turns towards the door of the 'kabin, hooking the flimsy hood of his jacket over his head.

"oi, riley. you better not have stuck flash in my van."

"nah, stuck 'im in with soap and gaz. i ain't gettin' that shit on our seats."

price's barking laugh follows simon out the door into the pissing rain.

[oonajaeadira]

Okay, who wants to hear about today's moment of magic?

Long story under the cut.

So the SO and I are getting married next month. It's really not a big deal, we're literally going down to the courthouse with @feathersandfoxtails and another bestie on the anniversary of our first date, signing the papers and doing an at-the-counter ceremony. We've been together for 14 years and own a house and a dog together. When it comes to loving and pledging our lives to each other, it's something we've grown into and we choose each other every day. Our families know we're good for life, so there's really no reason to spend a bunch of money on a ceremony. We've got everything we need, we go on "honeymoons" all the time, and we're both theater people, so it's just another event to plan and stage manage and produce and honestly, we'd both just rather put on another show with that cash than have our moms get nuts about invite lists and catering choices.

ANYWAY. With 2025 looming and all the uncertainty it's bringing, I just want it to be official in the eyes of the state so that's never a question. This dude goes up to the cabinland by himself and builds cabins 7 feet off the ground and runs chainsaws and such. If he ends up in the hospital, I don't want to be turned away from holding his hand through an amputation, you know? He's the most honest, trustworthy, good-hearted man I've ever met (if not sometimes frustratingly stubborn about being right all the damn time), and we share the same taste in just about everything. He's an inch shorter than Pedro with shoulders just as broad and eyes just as brown and a good mix of Frankie and Pero and Din and he puts up with my weirdness and I'm not letting him go.

So at one point he asks me if I'd like a ring. And I said no, mostly because I have a million rings and I like to switch them out and I'm not going to be taking up a good finger with one ring forever. My ladybits may be monogamous, but I'm not forcing that on any of my fingers. (That came out wrong. Oh well.) Besides, he's in carpentry. He doesn't like jewelry, much less wear it.

"I would for you," he said.

Cue melting.

But. Also. Another unnecessary expense. (Also, in true mischief fashion, I want to keep the marriage a secret just to see the looks on people's faces when someone like my nosy aunt's like "when you getting married?" and I can say, "oh, we are. Anyway. Pass that turkey...")

And that was that. Until I saw the script they walk you through at the courthouse.

At first glance, it's pretty short, literally an exchange of "do you?/ I dos" and exchange of rings and signing of the certificate by all the parties. No changes allowed, no vows, no "you may kiss," just cut and dry, like 2 minutes tops.

*record scratch* Exchange of rings. No changes. Aw hell.

Cue my online auction addiction. Did I mention that I have an online auction addiction? Surprise! There's a lot of lakeside property in Minnesota and rich folks come and go, passing on or downsizing or whatnot, and there's always fun estate sales going on, which is where I get a lot of my instruments and fun witchy supplies.

Literally the day I read that marriage script and was wondering if I could just fish out some rings from my jewelry box to suffice, this auction came up:

What you are looking at are two antiquities, Viking-era brass rings circa 850 - 1050 CE, the gold plating is pitted and old, but they've been restored and preservation-sealed. I did a lot of research on them and the company that they came from (as well as digging up info on antiquities/museum relations and dealers that may come in handy for a Thief fic at one point), and they're the real deal.

The sizes weren't listed (they were packaged in conservation envelopes, the box is mine) and so I lowballed a bid and was surprised that nobody outbid me. That never happens.

I told the SO that I'd won them and he's like, cool, how do you know they'll fit? I said I didn't. They're not meant to be worn. We use them for the ceremony and then shadowbox and display them nicely. If they don't really fit properly, that's okay, they're only there to fulfill the script. I'm not really getting a fancy dress or anything like that, so we might as well have one little piece of magic on the day. I just thought ancient Viking rings would be cool because he loves history and I've got me some Scandinavian blood and Viking thighs.

But y'all. The magic continues. Because I picked them up today...

And they fit us. Exactly. I'm kinda freaking out about it.

Even my atheist SO looked at me and said, "Hot damn. It's like it's meant to be."

Damn straight, boyfriend. Damn straight.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy October Patreon update is live!

This one comes with an all new updated character sheet too!

You can get this update right now by subscribing to our patreon, but itchio beta fans may have to wait a few more weeks or a month. The itchio beta won’t be updating until I finish the complete monster overhaul which could take a while.

Here's the changelog

Copy-editing Progress: Thoroughly copy-edited up to p. 247.

CHAPTER 1

Additions to the What is Eureka For section

Changed comforting factors and exacerbating factors for Composure rolls to be +/-2 instead of +/-1 so they make a real difference.

New snoop

Changed the font of the section headings in the Ticking Clock section. Let us know what you think of these headings compared to the other headings, because we are considering changing all the headings to be like this.  

Better clarified some stuff about how Ticks work when an adventure starts at some random time of day.

CHAPTER 2

Gave a proper name to the Wealth modifier attached to certain homes and vehicles, it is now called the Property Modifier(PM).

Lowered the price of firearm ammunition by 1WP

Lowered the price of desktop computers by 1WP

Lowered the price of cameras by 1WP

Combined various hand tools into one entry on the item lists and moved them to Misc.

Made hotels something that is prepaid in WP similar to food budget. 

Made Large Apartment less expensive and Tiny Apartment more expensive

Moved Baseball Bat and Axe out of Weapons and into Misc. 

Changed how Food Budget works.

Removed Net Skill Limit mechanic entirely

Edit to the duration of the bonuses for Femme Fatale

Changed Ninja Trait to a +2 bonus instead of +1

CHAPTER 3

Changed the name of Chapter 3 to “Dangerous Situations.” We are planning to put all the combat and other dangerous stuff into one chapter called “Dangerous Situations” and merge combat, chases, etc. into one thing rather than splitting it up and having it in a bunch of different chapters.

Made it so that the Speed mechanic works with Theater of the Mind as well, and removed that other awkward mechanic with rolling Athletics for how many turns it takes for a character to cross a large distance. 

Complete restructure of the way the mechanics for movement and action are explained, as well as defining things as both Movements and Actions. 

Created a Chapter 2.5. In the future when we are ready to shift the chapter numbers, Chapter 2.5 will become the new Chapter 3 and the current Chapter 3 will become Chapter 4. Chapter 2.5 currently houses the statistics of weapons and other combat items. The plan is that a first-time reader will read the weapon statistics in Chapter 2.5 before they read the combat rules in Chapter 3, which will inform the way they understand Chapter 3. 

Changed damage value and special attributes of pepper spray. 

Made brass knuckles do 1 penetrative damage. 

Made stun guns do 2 superficial damage.

Made it so that bulletproof vests do protect against 1-damage weapons. 

Moved and rearranged like everything from chapters 3-6. 

Close range bonus for guns is now +2 instead of +1

Simplified Stopping Power rules (the actual way it works has not changed, we just rewrote it so that it gives the same mechanics in like a tenth of the word count)

Separated open-faced helmets and full-face helmets, and made it so that wearing a helmet along with body armor gives a -1 penalty to incoming attack rolls. 

“Single Load” is now called “Internal Magazines”

Shotguns at extremely close range now have similar stopping power to a rifle, but at 5-10 yards they still have their double stopping power. 

Changed how Rate of Fire works for guns. Just making it a number instead of distinct actions. 

Made it so that Quick Cycling affects basically all guns except automatics, meaning characters with high Firearms skill can now fire semi-automatic pistols at 3 bullets per Action.

Streamlined Stabilization. It is no-longer a roll and instead a penalty that worsens the more bullets are being fired at once. 

Made Bipods give +2 Contextual bonus instead of +1 to single stationary targets.

Changed Reactions and made them more broadly applicable and usable as a rule.

CHAPTER 7

Added “Psychological Warfare” mechanic. 

CHAPTER 8

Clarified that gorgon blood does not heal gorgons.

Changed the way that monsters interact with Composure and their Tiers of Fear during the act of preying on other people. Instead of just ignoring it or having a bonus (i somehow left both of those conflicting rules in and no one told me), a relevant Composure roll is still made when a monster eats someone, but they do not lose Composure points from it even in the event of Partial Success or Failure. This keeps the narrative benefit of a Composure roll to show the monster’s emotional state, but without making hunting numerically pointless.

Finished the complete fairytale witch overhaul. 

Made the Close Combat bonus for superhuman strength be just +1 for the vast majority of instances. The only exception is wolfman forms. They get a higher Close Combat bonus because their transformations actually make them bigger and taller and this helps a lot in Close Combat.

Reduced Athletics bonus of Incredible Strength trait to +2. 

Merged the Alt. Witch with Mage, and made Mage a Misc. supernatural category instead of its own separate thing. This is going to be a really messy transition for chapter 8 so please bear with us. I am making a brief run though the chapter to clean up the biggest discrepancies this change creates, but I probably won’t get them all until the editor and I have time to actually go through and copy-edit it. 

“Mage” is now its own trait, and what were previously called “mage traits” are now called “mage powers”. Mages now have between 1 and 6 mage powers as part of their mage trait, with worse composure rolls the more powers they have. 

When they engage in their True Nature, monsters now have a chance to recoup some or all of the Composure they lost as a result of using their powers to hunt prey. 

[shannonsketches]

still re-reading through the dragon ball trilogy manga and just cracking myself up about how Vegeta has this very Visible Famous Corporate Wife and has probably had to go with her to events,

and I've always really enjoyed the underrated trait that pre and post breakdown/identity crisis Vegeta is very in his element lying to people and being maliciously compliant and snarky and my hot take is that the Freeza Force is probably also very corporate and political when you get down to brass tacks

so just imagine with me the wildly unexpected comedy of Vegeta getting hauled to one of these things thinking it's going to be aWFUL only to find it is terribly familiar and he knows exactly how to operate in this space, actually, but because he is An Alien who used to work as A High Ranking (Self-Described) Thug for an Intergalactic Dictator and you can't just Say That -- he's just having the time of his life playing 'what can I say without saying it' like:

Corporate Partygoer: Oh, you're Bulma's husband! She said you retired quite young?

Vegeta, just going along with whatever Bulma lied about: ...Yes.

Corporate Partygoer: Wow, you must have done very well for yourself! What did you do for work?

Vegeta: ...Real estate. :)

Corporate Partygoer: Oh, how lucrative, no wonder! Private?

Vegeta: Commercial. Surveying, acquisitions, that sort of thing.

Corporate Partygoer: Wow, so like property negotiation deals?

Vegeta, about to get dragged away by his wife: Hostile takeovers, mostly—

[dcdreamblog]

How many metal men there were? I remeber them being 6 when i was little but then a bunch appeared and dissappeared and stuff.

And does Steel from metropolis have anything to do with them?

There are 7 siblings in their family and 6 members of the team. Which is the interesting part.

(A publicity shot of the Metal Men and their creator, Dr Will "Doc" Magnus.) Doc Magnus is one of the foremost minds in both robotics and elemental chemistry, creating a lot of more mundane marvels that you and I use everyday. However his famous magnum opus was the Metal Men, showing off his invention of a device called the Responsometer. Now the science of it all is WAY above my head but down to brass (hehe) tacks, basically when a Responsometer is implanted into a sufficient amount of a pure metal, the device is able to animal that metal into a thinking, feeling robotic automaton. The personality contained within the Responsometer is able to animate every part of the metal body independently, allowing each of the Metal Men to shapeshift as if they were made out of a stable liquid and then instantly resolidify without limits. All of this without losing any property of the metal in question. The original six Metal Men were Gold, Lead, Iron, Tin, Mercury and "Platinum" (although her chosen name is Tina, which is how I will refer to her from now on). They're the hometown heroes of New Jersey if you happen to live outside the Gotham Metro and despite the unfortunate mental stability of their creator, father and patriarch Doc Magnus, the team is still getting up to their super scientist shenanigans to this day...save for that one little lady on the left. THAT, is Copper. She is the team's "baby" having been created well after the rest of the group during a manic episode of Doc Magnus' run in with a cult of super scientists (another time maybe). Helping him to escape that situation she was introduced to the rest of her siblings. ...and then almost instantly discovered she had no interest in the superhero life. Don't get me wrong, she did what was needed of her. She saved lives. I'm not calling her a coward, or a screw up. I'm saying that after about a year fighting alongside her family she found that all she got out of it was stress and injury and heartache. So she quit.

(Copper Magnus' official staff photo at STAR Labs of Gotham. OOC: phil-cho on DA)

This story isn't as tragic as you think, it's not like she walked out on her family or anything. She just decided to go to college, she now has a major in Security Services and she works at STAR Labs in Gotham where by all accounts she's a model employee and makes the same commute into and out of the suburbs as the rest of us. It's just interesting that the odd on out in their family is the one who went to college and got a respectable 9-to-5.

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that. (Plain text version)

I kept getting "needs pt" tags on the original post, so here's the plain text version:

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism. By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism. You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry. After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces. This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of the original post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism. Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED. In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them. But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[buggyboba]

Retired

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖

↳ ▣ | Happy new year! lets hope this is a strong start! Sorry it took ages, but good news I am going to write another chapter or two depending how the writing pans out. I made some big plans, I hope you all like it so far!

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘

↳ ▣ | Simm!master x Reader (GN)

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪

↳ ▣ | Anon asked | retired simm!master x reader (preferably gn)? Has The Master really retired? who knew he liked wine making, is this really as domestic as he is making it seem?

𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘

↳ ▣ | slight blink and you miss it Hypnosis, but other than that none that I can tell.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥

↳ ▣ | 5500

𝔸𝕠𝟛 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜

↳ ▣ | x

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

Retired? No conquering or pining after the doctor? You hadn’t believed it at first, and you weren't sure you believed it now, but you had been on this planet, in a vineyard, for a few months now. It was a beautiful place, really; the vineyard's berries and grapes spanned acres and acres, and the temperature was perfect. It was actually a paradise. This was not what you expected from the man you had followed through countless and rather destructive adventures. 

You remember when you arrived, he called it his vineyard, something he had started in ‘a previous life.’ The vineyard had fallen into an overgrown mess, and you recalled having to help him get it back into order; you hadn’t expected him to do just as much work as you. However, he did cheat and use a bunch of spare parts to make a robot. The robot was primitive at best, but you didn't expect a full android out of a box of scraps. The robot was brass, copper, and some silver, patchworked together, and vaguely humanoid; they weren’t as tall as you, their head coming to your shoulder, but they were strong and perfect for what The Master wanted them to do. 

You named it ‘Tully’; he ridiculed the name, stating, ‘You humans will bond with anything.’ Tully did a lot of the heavy lifting and moving things. They really did a lot of the cleanup and recultivating the land. You often found yourself watching and talking to Tully, not that they could reply, but occasionally it seemed like they acknowledged you, giving a beep or a virring sound. Another thing The Master teased you about looking for intelligence, where it was only a computer with a set task. You could swear he was wrong, though, even though he had built Tully. Maybe it was just born out of loneliness; not that you minded spending time with The Master, but there was only so much just hanging around him you could take. He had forbidden you from leaving the properties; you weren’t allowed to explore outside the confines of the vineyard. He said it was because it was dangerous, that the inhabitants were unruly, and that the little force field he had set up when they got there was what was keeping them safe. You didn’t quite believe that, but you also knew better than to disobey. You knew he didn’t want you to wander off; he liked you close by. From what you had seen, the land around the villa and vineyard seemed barren; it was like that plot of land was a green oasis. You wondered how long that was going to stay. 

In the first few weeks, it was hard adjusting to a new place; the nights were eerie, everything was quiet, and any little sound roused you, and one time you had gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water when Tully scared you. You had walked into the kitchen; the dull moonlight was peeking in through the window, and you came face to face with a humanoid figure standing in the corner. Naturally, you yelled, and a few seconds later, The Master was rushing to the kitchen, his laser screwdriver in hand, in nothing but his robe. He flipped the light on, and you felt embarrassed when you saw it was Tully.

He blinked at you and muttered something in Gallifreyan before returning to bed. The next few days were filled with him teasing you anytime he could. Asking if you needed an escort to the kitchen or if he should put a bell on the robot. You knew it was teasing, but you couldn’t help but feel almost happy that he had rushed to the kitchen that night; you had never seen him so concerned. How he was ready to annihilate whatever was threatening you, of course, it could be his self-preservation, but at the same time the look he had told you it was deeper, even if he wouldn’t admit it, and he was teasing you about it. 

You found that you liked watching the Master pore over books and finding the right seeds, how he muttered to himself sometimes that this would be the best batch. You had no idea he was into anything but what he had shown you before, the chaos and the plotting. Seeing more to him than the snark, the anger, and the need to control, it was odd; you knew he would hate it if you said anything, so you didn’t; you just kept it to yourself. Of course, he was still snarky; you didn’t think he could say something without attitude if he had a gun to his head. That’s just who he was, and you loved him for it.

Oh... oh no... you loved him? You had to be right, running away with him like this, being domestic like this? Trying to understand his interest, you knew nothing of running a vineyard or planting things, but you actually hoped this worked out for him. Apparently, he had always wanted to run a vineyard; he had started too once before, but now he was at it again because he was ‘retired.’ He still hadn’t given a solid reason; he would brush it off, asking if it mattered, or were you not happy about the break? You wondered if whatever last near-death experience he had perhaps, just maybe, actually scared him. He wouldn't talk about that either, just showed up at your door after vanishing for a few weeks—well, it was weeks for you anyway—bleeding and bad off, cursing a woman, and digging around your stuff for something he had apparently hidden there. You remember him saying, “She can piss off trying to change me to her; she's not going to get a chance if I have my way.” And he was pretty angry about whatever happened for a few days. He moped and brooded, things you hadn’t seen him do before. Then he was whisking you away just like that, and now you were here. 

You had talked him into upgrading Tully; of course, it was under the guise that if they could process better, they could do more for the vineyard. But you wanted to have another person; could you consider Tully a person? Well, sort of, right? They would have more intelligence; you didn’t expect The Master would give them full AI, but it would be nice. He did upgrade them, pseudo-sentience he called it, still programmed to follow orders but intelligent enough to carry on a conversation and do more extreme tasks. He said the machine reminded him of someone called Kamelion, and how he wondered if later on he could find the parts to bulk them up, take plans from the Gelsandorans, whatever that was. Which made you feel something; he was planning a future here, talking about a later on. Perhaps he really did retire, and this wasn’t some big plot, but he seemed so angry at whoever this woman was that stabbed him. You hoped that this was serious; it was nice; you enjoyed this, playing domestic, well, as domestic as this was. You could get used to this, though you were starting to crave that thrill of adventure again, seeing new places; perhaps you could talk The Master into a day outing somewhere fun, a bazaar, or something if you could pull him out of his workshop for a while.  If he wasn’t in the fields, he was in the workshop; you weren’t allowed in there, so you were almost suspicious, but every time you brought it up, he would dismiss it, and you didn’t push it further; you wondered why you didn’t push it further. 

You had spent most of the day wandering; you couldn’t pass up the opportunity. You found a little pond on the property, but you didn’t play in it; you didn’t know if the water was safe, and after the last time you tried to take a dip in a beautiful pond and almost got eaten, you weren’t taking the chance. You did make a little mental note to see if The Master would come down with you, maybe on a break, to have dinner; it was a serene place. As the sun started to set, you made your way back to the house, and the scent of bread and some kind of stew hit your nose. You had found that among viticulture, The Master had a rather impressive catalog of cooking; of course, most nights you would find yourself cooking, but it was always a nice surprise when he did. You walked into the house and put your jacket on the hook; walking into the kitchen, you watched him for a moment, his jacket gone and his sleeves rolled up as he stirred the pot. It was still so odd seeing him, domestic. 

“Smells good,” you offered as you walked over to look over his shoulder to see what it was. He looked at you for a moment, almost calculating what he wanted to say before he nodded. 

“I would hope so: braised beef, red wine, and mushrooms,” he said. He stirred the pot again, silent for a moment before he spoke again. “Where were you all day?” he asked, stepping back. He wiped his hands on the little hand towel and turned to look at you fully. 

“There is a little pond at the edge of the property; I found it on my walk today. There might be fish in it, but I’m not sure; I didn’t get too close.” You offered and moved to go grab some bowls to set them on the counter; you placed the bowls down and went to get some spoons from the drawer. 

“Oh, you think I’ll take up fishing too? How domestic,” he muttered. “Sounds droll.” His lip twitched up into an amused smirk.

“No, I’m just saying,” you shrugged and looked over your shoulder at him. “I am pointing out what I found on my walk today, and what if you did take it up? I dunno what you like to do in your spare time; well, that’s not the full truth, but..." You shrugged. “I didn’t expect winemaking, yet here we are,” you said, grabbing the plate with the freshly made bread on it. “I didn’t expect baking either.”  You grinned before you walked it over to the table and placed it down. “You are a conundrum, you know that, right?” you said, leaning against the counter, watching him. 

“Ah, you know what they say about a man of mystery.” He mused, He held his hand out for the bowls, and you passed them to him, waiting for him to finish the statement, which he didn’t, and you laughed.

“Oh, I thought there was more to that…No, I don’t know what they say; enlighten me,” you said, watching him. He gave you a look and filled the bowls, moving over to the table with them, motioning for you to sit down, so you did. “You aren’t going to finish the sentence then?” You teased.

“And spoil the mystery?” He teased back, sitting down across from you. 

“Dumb.” You snickered and shook your head. You took some bread and ripped it, dipping it into the stew. “Would a vegetable other than mushrooms kill you? We could go to a market or something.” 

“Mushrooms aren’t vegetables.” He corrected. 

“Yeah, okay, well, aren't you just a fun guy?” You smirked at your own joke, and he let out an annoyed huff. 

“you are hardly witty,” he said, shaking his head. “But fine, maybe tomorrow we can go off-world for a bit, go to that one market you love; I need to pick up a few things anyway.” He leaned back for a moment before he also started eating. 

“Can we bring Tully?” You asked; he raised an eyebrow. 

“Why would we bring Tully? He is a working bot.” He said and watched as you frowned. 

“Maybe it would do him some good to see other places.” You nodded, but The Master raised his hand and shook his head to silence you. 

“He is a worker; he has enough sense to work, plus someone needs to stay behind and watch the vineyard,” he said, taking another bite of stew. “You need to stop pushing the idea of sentience on him; he is programmed to only follow orders, and you need to stop distracting him from it.” He continued. 

“Yeah, well, maybe he does have some sentience; sometimes I swear he responds to me.” You nodded. 

“You humans always look for things that aren’t there, see things your little minds want you to see.” He shook his head.

“Well, maybe you time lords don’t look hard enough.” You said, leaning back heavily against your chair, watching him. “and what happened to talking about upgrading Tully to be like... oh, what did you call it, Kamelion?” You said watching him, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“That would be way further down the line; I am busy right now anyway, no room for other distractions.” He shook his head.

“Too busy with your vineyard, it is waiting for plants to grow and then making wine.” You eyed him suspiciously. “That’s not all you are doing here, is it… you are plotting!” You gave the deepest sigh and looked away from him. 

“Now wait, no, I am retired!” He said, shaking his head. “and I am offended you have such little faith in me.” He snapped.

“Then why am I not allowed in the workshop?” You asked quickly. 

“It’s dangerous, and in case you forgot, humans are remarkably squishy.” He waved you off. “Let’s not fight,” he said after a moment. He grabbed your hand and urged you to look at him, which you did. He locked eyes with you; you felt angry, but it slowly subsided. You trusted him; you knew you did, and something told you to calm down, to let it go, not to ask again, and you would obey. “Let’s just focus on going to the market tomorrow,” he said and put his spoon down, flashing you a charming smile, and you nodded, blinking away an odd feeling that he didn’t address. “Maybe if you are good, we can even make a trip to Earth and go to that café you like.” He offered, you nodded again, and he let go of your hand, nodding as well. 

The evening progressed as normal; you cleaned up the dishes after dinner, he retired to his study, and you went to bed. You didn’t get up as early as you normally did, taking the time to actually sleep in; after all, Tully did most of the work. The Master had finally set up a watering system, so now it was just cleaning up and ensuring the vine’s health, which you knew little about, but The Master was out early, checking and ordering Tully around. When you did get up, the sun was already up, so you got dressed and headed out, grabbing your jacket on the way out. You quickly walked the rows and found The Master studying a little green bug, odd, because as far as you had remembered, you hadn’t seen any bugs, which, thinking on it, was odd for a being outside; you figured you would have seen more bugs. 

“Whatcha got there?” You asked stretching, and his eyes narrowed. 

“An unwelcome guest.” He said plucking the bug and dropping it into a glass vial. 

“Gonna torture a bug now?” you asked, watching him. “Find its co-conspirators?” You teased a bit, but your smile faded at the look on his face. “I mean, I am sure we can find a solution…it’s just a bug.” You tried to backtrack your teasing.

“Yes, well, it shouldn’t have been able to get in…There is a breach in the field somewhere… and where there is one, there is bound to be more... and I am not going to risk my vineyard.” He said, pocketing the vial. 

“So I guess today we aren’t going to the market; we are looking for the breach and figuring out a way to protect the plants?” You sighed and looked around. He didn’t exactly respond to you; he shook his head, muttering in more Gallifreyan before he disappeared into his workshop. You were disappointed, but you knew he was going to fixate on the green bug until he eradicated the whole species for threatening his crops. You lounged around the vineyard for a bit before you decided you could be useful; you grabbed your bag and headed out the door. Obviously, these bugs were native to this place, and as The Master said, there were people on this planet, so maybe they already had a solution to the bugs; if they had crops themselves, maybe they had a local remedy, something they could plant or put along the perimeter or something. You didn’t want him to worry so much; he was supposed to be retired, after all; this was supposed to be relaxing and domestic; you wanted to enjoy it with him, and you knew he would be at it for days, weeks, maybe even months, depending on how deep it went. You weren’t sure how you were going to get out of the barrier, but you could figure it out; after all, a bug got in, so it couldn’t be too hard, right? 

You were wrong immediately; you spent ages looking at the faintly shimmering barrier, looking where it connected, until you found what seemed to be one of the meeting points, and pushed on the metal part until the field wavered momentarily. It was extremely dumb luck, but you slipped out and looked around, looking for signs of life. You saw a tall spire of sorts, a roof of a building maybe? So you started in that direction. You had to be quick; he would have your head if you were out past dark, let alone if he knew you left the vineyard. However, you thought your reason was justified; you just wanted to help; you did want him to succeed in his winemaking after all.

You walked at a brisk pace, keeping your eyes on the roof, you couldn’t afford to get lost. You felt odd, your head a bit hazy, and you started to get a headache, but you kept walking. You focused on the crunch of dead leaves and rocks beneath your feet and slowed as you looked around; the plants were sickly looking and withering, a stark contrast to the vineyard. You noticed the same little green bugs squirming around on a tree as you walked past it. This wasn’t good; were they the cause of this plant devastation? If so, you suddenly began to doubt you would find what you needed at any sort of market. Though perhaps you could still pick the chemicals up, or maybe this planet just didn’t have the scientists to figure it out. You couldn’t lose hope now, not when you had already gone so far. You pressed forward, continuing to walk until you made it to more open space. Seeing the little town, you shivered; it looked sad, with no sign of any life. You contemplated turning around and running back to the vineyard, but you steeled yourself and forced your legs to move. You looked around, wrapping your jacket tighter around you as your eyes scanned over the little marketplace; everything seemed abandoned, like they all just left, but that didn’t seem right. You walked more and walked over to what appeared to be a bakery; you opened the door and looked in; it was like it was untouched, frozen in time. You frowned and stepped out; looking around, you saw a place that looked like it had been an apothecary or general store or something. You saw dried herbs in the window and assumed. When you walked in, your eyes scanned over the labels, but you didn’t know what any of these herbs did, and it wasn’t like human Earth Google could help you. You suddenly felt very silly for coming here; this was going to be all for nothing. A sound caught your attention; there were footsteps. They weren’t the same as The Master’s, you crouched down, and inched towards the back, you saw shadows move across the window, two of them. You held your breath and slowly tried to keep attention away from you; you didn’t get a good feeling; your body tensed, and your eyes kept on the shadows in the window. The way they moved, like they were scanning for something, and then how they suddenly looked towards the window as if they had found you. 

As they started to the door, you took off out the back door, your legs carrying you fast and hard. You felt your heart pounding, hoping whoever they were hadn’t seen you. You didn’t even know if they were necessarily bad people, but the abandoned state of the town, and then two shadows creeping around, you didn’t have a good feeling, and your headache was getting worse, but that was the least of your concern. As you ran past an alleyway, two arms reached out; one grabbed you around the waist, and the other clamped over your mouth, pulling you in. You fought hard, elbowing your assailant in the face, and he let you go, his hand going to his nose. “For god's sake.” He muttered, and you turned. The Master was not pleased about your elbow to his face. 

“What are you doing here?” You whispered quickly, looking out of the alleyway. 

“That’s my question. I told you not to leave the vineyard!” he whispered angrily back. “Tully reported your absence, and then I had to come looking for you!” He gave your shoulder a shove. You shoved him back. 

“I went looking for a solution to your little green bug problem! I thought I could help.” You snapped.

“That’s the problem, you thought!” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I didn’t need your help... and now you have gone and done it.” He sighed. “Back to the Vineyard.” He said, pushing your arm and motioning, you stood still, your expression still hardened. “Oh? What’s this then, making a grandstand? This isn’t the time to be an idiot.” He shook his head and motioned again; you crossed your arms. 

“You don’t get to be mean to me.” You started.

“I am mean to everyone; you aren’t special.” Before he could think of his words, he cleared his throat and tried to backpedal. “I…what I mean is, you have put us—” he decided on. “In a bad predicament.” He said and shook his head. “No, we need to return to the vineyard right now.” He said seriously. 

“What predicament?” You shook your head. “What is so bad? Is it the other people?” You said.

“Other people?” He tensed for a moment, then he shifted and got quiet, listening. 

“Yeah, Two, I think… I saw their shadows and ran, and then you snatched me.” You shook your head. 

He muttered something in Gallifreyan. “Now!” He grabbed your arm and forcefully walked you back towards the path. You tried to yank your arm away, but his grip tightened, and he kept walking. 

“You are hurting me.” You hissed, and that just earned his grip squeezing almost painfully against your arm. “Master! Let go! I can walk on my own!” You tried to yank away again. His hand moved from your arm to the back of your neck to control you better.

“Stop, or I will make you stop.” He warned, there was no hint of teasing, just danger, a real threat. You got quiet as you walked quickly. He would stop to listen every so often, and then when you got back to the shield of the vineyard, he unceremoniously pushed you away from him, stalking towards his workshop.

“What the fuck!” You snapped, rounding at him, but he kept walking. “No! Hey!” You followed after him, “You don’t get to just hide away in your workshop now!” You said and grabbed his arm; he rounded on you. There was a look on his face that you had only seen once, and it chilled you. 

“You had better hope that this shield holds up…that they don’t find us.” He said, shaking his head. 

“Who? The shadows?” You asked; you just wanted to understand what was going on, and he was not making it easy. 

“They aren’t just shadows….I told you to stay in the vineyard! Why couldn’t you just listen!” He shook his head. “We were happy here; I was happy here!” He pushed your hand off of his arm, your eyebrows furrowed, and you shifted a bit. 

“I was just trying to help! I am happy here. Why are you talking like we can’t be happy still? What is going on?” You said, studying him for any sort of answer, but you were only met with anger and something else: fear. Why was he scared? You reached out for him, but he pushed your hand away, shaking his head. “Just talk to me…We are in this together, aren’t we?” You said you didn’t like the way he was watching you; you felt like strangers suddenly. He had never looked at you like that; yes, he had looked at others, but not you. He had told you you were special once, and now he looked almost disgusted with you. “Please... say something, anything... Master?” You said, but he turned away from you and walked towards the workshop, leaving you in silence. You watched his back disappear and the door shut behind him. 

You felt numb, like you had done something bad; maybe you had, but you were just trying to help. You wanted to help, to show him he didn’t always have to do everything alone; isn’t that why he picked a ‘companion,’ as he once called you? But you felt like you were far more than that now. After everything that you two had done together? Not to mention the domestic situation you found yourself in, not quiet roommates, something more you couldn’t name, didn’t want to name in case he didn’t feel the same. You had thrown everything away to come run away with him, to retire with him, to be there for him, and you just couldn’t understand why now he was pulling away, why he was so angry.

You took a few breaths in, trying to calm down, but this felt bad, like worse than any argument you had before. There was a real fear in your gut: Was he going to carelessly leave you here and leave, or worse, was he going to take you home and wipe your memory? You didn’t want to think that way; you didn’t want him to leave you; you didn’t want to go back to not knowing the universe, to not knowing him. You felt the sting of tears; you were angry, and your heart hurt. You moved to go to the villa.

 You paused when you saw Tully; you shook your head. “Why did you tell him? How could you tell him?” You said and walked over to the robot; you grabbed its head and looked at it, moving it around, and Tully let you. “Now he is going to leave me, or return me like I am nothing!” You shook your head. “I was just trying to help, and then you told on me!” You pushed the robot away, and it stepped back to catch itself. “I was just trying to help!” You shook your head and wrapped your arms around yourself. “I can’t believe….” You were angry, so angry. Maybe it wasn’t really Tully’s fault; they were just a machine, like the Master said. You stormed away, back into the empty villa. You took a look around it and sighed, walking towards the bedroom. You looked around the space you had shared with him over the last few months. 

Memories here, the happiness, that he had played domestic with you. You sighed and moved to run your hand over the covers; the tears welled up in your eyes, and you sat down, determined to keep the choked sobs in. Your fingers traced over the soft material, and you sank down onto the side of the bed. You tried to stop the choked sound that escaped your throat. You knew that tears were useless; he had told you such before, the first time he had you watch a burning planet. The tears escaped your eyes, and he wrapped his arm around you, telling you that tears weren’t going to fix anything, that tears wouldn’t stop the flames, that they did nothing for the dead, that they were for you only. You couldn’t help it, though; there was a real fear of him no longer wanting to be whatever he was with you anymore. 

You felt the first sob shake you, and you tried to run your sleeve over your eyes, but it did nothing to slow the now steady hot tears that came from your eyes. You clenched the black comforter below you tightly, so tightly that your knuckles turned white as you choked out more sobs. You didn’t want him to be mad at you; you didn’t like the cold look he gave you, how he made you feel like you ruined everything. You were just trying to help. The phrase was a pathetic mantra in your head as if the words could fix everything. You fell onto your side, curled into yourself, and you tried to breathe, to calm down, but you couldn’t. 

You didn’t know how long you cried last night or when you fell asleep, but you must have because when you woke, you felt the familiar dip of the mattress, the weight of him lying down. There was a relief that washed over you; at least he had come back in from his workshop at one point in the night. You slowly turned a bit, his hand inches away from your back, like he had been reaching out to touch you at some point but decided against it, or maybe he subconsciously reached for you in his sleep. 

You decided to slip out of bed to make coffee and breakfast, a peace offering, maybe one he would take. His coming to bed meant something; it had to. You had known his anger before; while it wasn’t directed at you, if he was dead set on being furious, he would have stayed in the workshop. 

The man himself came into the kitchen as soon as the smell of coffee and bacon filled the air. 

“Breakfast?” he stated more as a statement than a question. You nodded and moved to give him the cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow and looked over you. “I was thinking,” he started. Your face betrayed you, the odd gut feeling you had; you wondered if this was it. “Oh, fix your face; it’s a good thing, I promise.” He shook his head. “Last night was...tense... but I did promise you a trip to that café you like and that bazaar, and it would be a good…. apology for the argument.” He decided on his words carefully. 

“Yeah, okay, yeah.” You nodded. “Look, I am…I didn’t mean to upset you; I really was trying to help.” You started, but he raised his hand to silence you, taking a sip of the coffee. “It's complicated, and I will explain, but how about you get ready after breakfast, and we will go?” he said, and you nodded again. 

You couldn’t help the unease; what if he was planning on just dropping you off? You didn’t want that at all, but you tried to conceal your anxiety with a smile, sitting down to eat your breakfast. 

“Really, stop being so—” he vaguely motioned. “I am not getting rid of you... and if I did, it would be much more interesting than just dropping you off on a planet.” He shook his head and moved to sit across from you. He watched you for a few moments like he was thinking something, planning, but you had to trust his words for now anyway. 

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded softly; the thought of the cafe and bazaar did make you happy; even if you could tell there were ulterior motives, you would relax and enjoy it. “You sure? You were really mad last night.” You couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

“Abandoning people is what the Doctor does….I’ll just throw you in the vortex or something; maybe get creative with it…but no, I…don’t want to ruin a fun time with the worries of the reality of the situation, plus we are going off-world to…lure…things away,” he said, vague enough that his whole plan wasn’t on display but enough to calm your frayed nerves. 

“Things?” You asked. 

“The Kotturuh.” He said and shook his head; it was going to be a long explanation, one that he would have to face eventually; he didn’t like being faced with his own mortality. 

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Taglist: @sessa23 @toastvogel @super-just-because @spideysenze @skarkkie @ghost-of-a-bee @sirenympha @neurodiverse-dumpingground @ineedsmooching @variansimpclaire

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for stealing jewelry and a few other items from my hoarder aunt?

This was a few years ago now, I wanna say maybe 2018? My dad has two sisters, Z and K. K is married to a hoarder and has some hoarding tendencies herself so their house and particularly their garage is a mess. Not biohazard levels of mess but for sure just dusty, dirty, and stuffed with with ancient unusable garbage. K and her husband don’t have any kids, they’re both in their mid-70’s and both are in pretty poor health, so Z flew down from Florida and asked my father and I to come help clean. We agreed and came down for a day.

I have a weird relationship with my aunts. K took care of their mother until she died, and until she died my father would be at his sister’s beck and call. He would frequently abandon his own family to go help K and his mother. I don’t blame him for this, he wanted to help his sick mother, but I do blame K for using him as free labor. He built the house K is hoarding in, destroying his body in the process. Now that I’m an adult I don’t really speak to either aunt, like I had no contact with Z since Z’s second wedding in 2013. K is much closer location-wise but I don’t speak to her either because she’s just kind of off putting. The last time I spent time with her we went shopping and she kept telling me stories of her miscarriage and how annoying her husband is and pointing to someone and loudly asking “you think that’s a man or a woman?” Like I understand we are family but K and Z are as close to strangers as family can get to me. This doesn’t even cover my mom’s opinion of them and their treatment of her. Both Z and K have a history of manipulation, deception, and are both very vindictive and ignorant. She hates them both to the point of paranoia. My sister and I have a similarly low opinion of them both, but we both are more tolerable, myself especially.

So we arrive and we clean, Z and I working together to throw away a bunch of shit and my father worked on installing a new dishwasher. I stumble upon this gorgeous hanging lamp that looks like a large full moon. I text my mom about it and she flips. “That’s mine,” she says, “your father and I found that on the side of the road one night when we were first married.” So I load it into my dads car because it’s so pretty and it belongs to my parents. “Hey, you better ask if you can take that” Z says and I flat out tell her that it belongs to my mom. She shrugs and we continue to work. I find another really cool set of hanging lamps and a solid wooden lamp base carved to look like a gazelle that probably belonged to K’s husband’s parents and I took those too, with no input from Z.

These items weren’t lovingly packed and carefully stored away. They were sitting in plastic bins stuffed with dozens of boxes disintegrated plastic gloves and tools that were more rust than anything else. Towards the end of the day we discover some jewelry boxes and I take those inside to go through with K. A lot of it was junky costume jewelry but there’s some incredible pieces including a pair of 14k gold hoops that look like rams heads, a cool brass ring with an enameled signet with the Sagittarius archer, and a huge silver heart pendant. I carefully set aside the items that I would like to take home and K didn’t say anything, either because she didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Finally when we got home I showed my mom all of the cool stuff I found and she kind of scolded me, saying I should have asked to take this stuff and I brushed it off by joking that this was payment for my cleaning services. She was very happy that I rescued her moon lamp though.

I’m wearing that chunky silver heart pendant today and am thinking about it again. K doesn’t have any children so the only people who would ever inherit this junk would be either myself or Z’s kids, but Z’s daughter is no contact with Z and Z’s son lives on the other side of the country. We own the property that K lives on, pay for the taxes on it and pay for the maintenance on it all without charging K anything, so even when she and her husband die my family is going to have to clean it anyway and I can assure you I would be the only person who would actually want to sift through the garbage to find cool stuff. I feel like I saved this stuff from the landfill. I wear the jewelry I took, we have that really cool gazelle lamp displayed in our living room, and my sister said she was going to use the hanging lamps I brought home for when she has her own home. But of course I technically stole all of it and for sure will not be giving it back, even if she noticed it’s missing. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Distant Kaleidoscope
Wondrous item, uncommon ___ This short brass scope weighs 1 pound. Looking through the scope causes everything to appear extremely colorful. Rotating the barrel of the scope causes a series of twisting visual effects to simultaneously occur and overlap, creating a brilliant display of randomized colors and patterns over top of the viewed scene. When you peer through the lens at a creature that you can see within 60 feet of you, you can speak the kaleidoscope’s command word using an action to force that creature to succeed on a DC 13 Wisdom saving throw. On a failed save, the creature is affected by the “hypnotic pattern” spell. This version of the spell doesn’t require concentration, but it ends early if you can no longer see or if you stop looking at the creature through the scope. Once this property of the scope has been used, it can’t be used again until the next dawn. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for as little as $3 a month!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forget-Me-Not 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You spend the night on the couch. You don't go further than the bathroom. You can't bring yourself to check her bedroom or the one you left behind.

You go out to get your bag and change in the yellow haze glowing behind the faded curtains. You check the time. Jan is expecting you in an hour.

You emerge into the dewy morning and tramp down to ground level. You get in the car, reversing out without looking back at the dingy house. The final farewell can't come soon enough for the slanted walls.

Jan is out in the yard, hammering a pineboard as you drive down his lot. His white hair curls with the sweat beading on his skin. He stills the hammer and wipes his forehead as you pull up. 

You get out as he greets you in the way all the villagers do. A manufactured friendliness that cannot erase their true judgement. They smile in face just as easily as the mutter your name under their breath. You mother harboured little good will in Hammer Ford and blood is sacred here.

“Sorry to hear,” he says.

“Matter of time,” you shrug dismissively.

“Isn't no way to come home,” he shakes his head and coughs into his fist, “walnut,” he points the hammer over his shoulder, “like ya said.”

Walnut, like the dining table. Where she sat and drank herself into that box. You nod and follow him over to the casket. The hinges are brass and the finish is rough. What does it matter? It's just going into the dirt.

“Got cash,” you say. Jan doesn't deal with the bank, everyone knows that. Funny the little things that stick with you.

“Thanks,” he accepts the bills as you count them out. So much for a rainy day. The sun shine bright as if mocking the grin affair beneath its watch. “I'll have it taken down to Norn's.”

“Yep,” you agree, “she's there.”

You head out without further niceties. Neither of you uphold those. Better to say what you mean and nothing else.

You get to the property line and idle. You turn away from the woods. You're not ready to go back yet. 

You stop by the church first. Father Oswald sits with you to discuss the ceremony. You'll say a few words at the grave site. You don't think anyone would come to a wake. You don't want them to.

You set off again, still reluctant to retrace your steps. You drive to the spare core of the village and park outside the library. You cross the street and peer in through the window of the bakery. It wasn't there when you left.

You venture inside and peruse the sweets behind the glass. You order a black coffee and a cinnamon bun. You pay the woman behind the counter, vaguely familiar. You're certain she was a few years behind you at school.

You sit and pick at the glazed dough. You don't have much of an appetite. You don't feel much of anything. You're just wading through, try not to get lost in the tide.

You sip the coffee. Bold but rich. Not bad. Better than the instant powder gone stale in your mother's cupboard.

The door opens and shuts, several times over as you stare at the table. The city taught you apathy. You don't let the noise bother you.

The chair across from you slides out and a figure plants themselves on the seat. You raise your head, your vision narrowing to make sense of their features. You turn your head to gaze out the window as Loki blows over the top of a mug. 

You slide out your phone, a defence mechanism. Still no reception. You put it down and keep your attention diverted. He clears his throat and taps his toe next to yours.

“You know, I do have an important matter to discuss with you,” he says.

You don't react. You know that's what he wants. That's why he showed up the night before. He undoubtedly insisted on being his clan’s representative.

“You've sent your condolences.”

“Mm, yes, but that isn't what I mean,” he traces his finger up the handle of his mug. “The house.”

You lower your brows and keep your eyes beyond the window. The village moves slow as ever. Not like the endless flow of the city streets. There's no where to hide here.

“My father has an offer. The property has value.”

You check your cup, almost empty. You swig the last of it. You stand and gather the cup and unfinished dessert. You put the porcelain on the counter and toss the cinnamon bun on your way out.

The door doesn't close behind you. He's following you. Your heartbeat piques. In an instant, you're hurled into the past. You're running through broken twigs as he snickers behind you. You ball your hands as your breath hitches.

You cross the street without looking, only just dodging a bumper. You go to your car, fumbling with your keys. Before you can stick them in the slot, there's a snare around your arm.

You spin and shove Loki off of you, biting down on a shriek. You glare at him and point the key at his chin.

“Not interested.”

“My father will give you more than the bank,” he counters. 

“Don't care.”

He sniffs and quorks his head, “is this because I never called?”

You choke on a scoff. You turn and ram the keys in the slot and twist. You open the door as you step around it. The edge hits him as you swing into the driver’s seat.

“The house is worthless. The bank will give you pennies for the land.”

“Go tell your daddy you failed,” you sneer and yank the door shut, hitting the lock with your fist.

You start the engine without a glance in his direction. You pull put as he barely avoids getting his toes run over. Just as ever, this village belongs to the Odinsons. They won't have to pay the bank much to get what they want but you will never sign your name next to theirs.