Redditors who come from families that practice arranged marriages, what is it like?

2021.12.01 18:40 inreallife12001 Redditors who come from families that practice arranged marriages, what is it like?

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2021.12.01 18:40 SADshark27 Is healing from necrotic damage op?

So gunna be starting up a campaign soon and one of my players Is making a custom race that heals from necrotic damage but gets damaged from healing from any source. I've said that I think that is really op BUT said I'd think on it and get back to him about it. What do you guys think about it? I personally don't think Its balanced in any way but maybe it is? Thoughts?
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2021.12.01 18:40 shuateau This is hilarious. It’s a question from Quora, answered by Thomas Doyle. Are the Valar useless? Apparently, yes! Longer read, but made me laugh a few times. Enjoy.

Is it just me, or are the Valar in Tolkien's world useless?
It’s not just you. They’re pretty useless. As I detailed in another answer the history of the Valar goes something like this:
Melkor opposes them from the beginning, and sabotages, corrupts or outright destroys all their works, but instead of concentrating on besting him they instead begin shaping the world as if things were fine. They continue to do this even as Melkor continues to ruin or taint their works. There can be little doubt this ‘waseful friction,’ convinces Mairon, AKA Sauron - one of the prettiest, most creative, powerful, and awesome Maia - to side with Melkor though he did not even take his side during the great music. Melkor at this point has the upper hand even against all the Valar, but when Tulkas arrives the balance is tipped in their favour and Melkor flees.
From this moment on every horrible thing that happens is their fault. Since all evil comes from Melkor and Melkor is only able to work his will beyond this point thanks to their indolence and waffling.
They fix up the world and create a paradise for themselves called Almaren, lit by the lamps Illuin and Ormal which were crafted by Aule. And which Varda, in her wisdom, appears to have filled with an abundance of some sort of supremely powerful, hallowed and blessed napalm. In the midst of more indolence and waffling by the Valar Melkor comes back and delves the mighty fortress of Utumno. He then assails and topples those nifty lamps Aule and Varda worked so hard on, and they spill so much hallowed napalm it incinerates much of the world. While the Valar try to contain the damage Melkor scampers back to Utumno, and now you would think the Valar would really have it out for him, and that this would be the time to deal with the very font of all evil and corruption in creation, yeah? Unfortunately the Valar, in their wisdom, have a habit of acting like Melkor doesn’t exist if he isn’t actually in the process of doing something unutterably horrible to them. So they instead start work on a new paradise. In fairness though this time they at least have the wherewithal to fortify it against Melkor. With mountains, because surely a being who can travel ‘beyond the circles of the world,’ will be foiled by mountains. Also in order to create this new paradise they leave Middle Earth entirely giving Melkor free reign in the very place where the children of Illuvatar will be awakening.
Remember their primary responsibility is to prepare the world for the children of Illuvatar!
Melkor creates all manner of awful things in this time, including a new fortress: Angband. The Valar know they have to deal with him at some point but fear the tumults it might cause. This waffling and indolence means Melkor finds the Elves before they do and corrupts some of them in order to breed the race of Orcs. Only after Orome finds the Elves do they finally march on Melkor and defeat him. Now in their wisdom they decide that the most evil and powerful being in creation who for more than ten-millennia has single-mindedly caused nothing but destruction and misery should be given a time-out. A meaningless gesture when dealing with an immortal being for whom time means nothing. This is also the first time they just completely forget about Sauron, his most powerful and cunning servant, but it will not be the last.
So the Valar invite the Elves to paradise. They manage to mislay a goodly number during the trip, although nobody cares about the Teleri anyway, including Cirdan who means to follow in his own ship, but the Valar insist he remain in Middle Earth without even explaining why. Don’t worry though he gets to come back some ten thousand years later after a life that proved so harrowing he is the only Elf who wasn’t tortured in Angband that is described as physically aged. In the land of eternal youth and beauty we can only assume his reward for such loyalty and diligence will be living out the rest of his days as a kind of pitiable novelty.
Learning from the debacle with their napalm-filled lamps the Valar decide to go with a less inflammable light-source this time and settle on trees; one silver and one gold. Unfortunately due to their lower wattage (perhaps thanks to a less volatile fuel source) they’re only capable of lighting paradise. Which the Valar have created in such a way as to be inimical to human life. In fairness though the Valar have not met any humans yet so maybe they’re assuming they enjoy short, brutish, misery-filled lives full of darkness, corruption, and Orcs. During this time Feanor makes the Silmarils, apparently being inspired by Galadriel’s awesome hair. It is a good time to be a Vala. They discover just how blissful and joyous it is to live in paradise while the worlds sole source of evil is safely and securely imprisoned and unable to destroy it. They then proceed to release the worlds sole source of evil, but, being wise, they decide to keep an eye on him. However despite being immortal beings for whom time has no meaning they quickly decide they have better things to do with their infinite lifespans - likely involving more indolence and waffling - than keeping an eye on the one person who might hopelessly mar paradise beyond repair. The instant they turn their backs Melkor immediately sets about hopelessly marring paradise beyond repair.
He sows distrust among the Elves and turns some of them against the Valar. When this results in Feanor speaking against the Valar and threatening his brother with violence the Valar put him on trial. Through careful thought and questioning they discover the terrible hidden truth: that Melkor is in fact evil, and being the most powerful being in creation they send exactly two of their number after him while the rest engage in more indolence and waffling. They also decide to exile Feanor. This is the first time the Valar punish one of the children of Illuvatar for doing something they never would have done had the Valar themselves actually dealt with Melkor, but it will not be the last. Funnily enough now the most powerful and evil being in creation finds it fairly easy to give his two pursuers the slip, and is thus free to convince a giant demon-spider to help him give an encore performance of his classic ‘let’s destroy all light in the world,’ act. The Valar, in their wisdom, have decided in this time of doubt and uncertainty to have a big stupid festival. Thus Melkor and the demon-spider are able to poison and murder the light-giving trees with little real effort.
That’s right he somehow made it over the mountains. Who’d have thought?
Since not going after Melkor when he destroyed their Armageddon-lamps proved so successful the Valar decide, in their wisdom, to do exactly the same thing this time but without even the excuse of there being a sacred napalm holocaust of their own creation to deal with. Also for their own amusement they lie to Feanor claiming the light of the trees can now only be preserved with the Silmarils - since it also exists in Varda’s thousands of stars, but apparently the least of them is too important to waste - and ask Feanor who has recently returned from exile to give them over so they can break them and repair the trees. He professes that even with Galadriel’s awesome hair for inspiration he could never make another set of Silmarils, and that to see them broken would actually kill him. This is not mere hyperbole either as Elves are emo enough to actually die from despair. The Valar then rebuke him for not committing suicide to fix something caused by their own waffling and indolence, but the entire debate is then rendered moot when they find that on his way out of paradise Melkor killed Feanor’s father and stole the Silmarils for himself.
The Valar, being wise and benevolent, now decide they will not pursue Melkor or indeed do anything about him despite knowing that a second lot of Illuvatar’s children will be awakening in Middle Earth where he currently reigns supreme. They are so fixated on spiting Feanor for not committing suicide to fix their mistakes that they refuse to save the world from evil and corruption because the act of doing so might benefit him. When he understandably tells them to shove it and decides to get the Silmarils back himself with his fellow Elves the Valar accuse him of being prideful and selfish. They then proceed to twiddle their thumbs while these Elves murder a large number of Teleri although I think they had it coming.
Now after fencing off paradise against the Elf-exiles who have gone to fight Melkor which also means it has been fenced off against the second-born children of Illuvatar who have done nothing wrong whatsoever the Valar prove that they were lying about needing the Silmarils to preserve the light of the trees. As they proceed to preserve the light of the trees in the form of the sun and the moon which actually give light to the entire world, but they apparently so resent sharing light and happiness with Middle Earth that they mourn the loss of the trees to this very day. They turn a blind eye to the misery and suffering of the Elves in Middle earth on the basis of them being rebels despite that many are actually Teleri who they just left behind and forgot about, and despite that they are soon joined by the newly awakened race of men, a form of life presumably created by Illuvatar so that even the Teleri would have something to hold in contempt. Whole generations of men thus live brutish, miserable lives oppressed by Melkor because the Valar are ass-clowns. The Valar continue to wallow in their own indolence, fecklessness and spite while countless horrors and tragedies unfold in the very world they are the appointed guardians of. Though when a half-elf-half-man returns to Valinor and begs their forgiveness the Valar benevolently forgive not only the Elves who rebelled against them, but also the men and Teleri who did absolutely nothing to them whatsoever save get caught in the cross hairs of their all-powerful spite. Also as punishment for saving the world the Valar proceed to exile the half-elf-half-man into low orbit for eternity.
The Valar, or their emissaries we’re not clear on which now march on Melkor. They defeat him and in the process sink an entire continent which honestly seems a little over the top. It’s impossible to know how many innocent beings perish in this deluge, but of those who remain they invite the Elves back to Valinor and because they don’t really seem to like them much they give a small number of men a cut-rate paradise somewhere where they won’t have to actually associate with them. The majority of the human race however is simply ignored and left out of their consideration entirely. Also having captured Melkor’s most powerful and cunning servant in the continent-sinking war they proceed to mislay him somehow and forget about his existence entirely. Along with a substantial number of dragons, Orcs, and at least one immortal fire demon all of whom will all go on to inflict great misery upon the world.
By this time the Valar can’t even be bothered making up fraudulent excuses for why they don’t pay the slightest bit of attention to things that aren’t happening in their happy and exclusive paradise. They just straight up stop giving a damn about anything that isn’t directly bothering them, and thus Sauron is free to create a supremely powerful ring which will allow him to dominate Middle Earth; inflicting horror and misery upon all who live there, and taking over most of it in the process. The humans living in half-price paradise oppose him, and even capture him. But being mere humans dealing with a something like a demi-god they are hopelessly outmatched. He effortlessly twists them around his little finger and convinces them to rebel against the Valar who largely ignore this entire episode until it literally lands in their backyard. In their wisdom and benevolence the Valar respond by asking God to commit genocide for them, and being a wise and just God he obliges without a second thought.
Sauron’s spirit returns to Middle Earth. As do the scant survivors of the Valar-induced genocide. They and the remaining Elves of Middle earth eventually defeat Sauron when he rises again but only after considerable strife, sacrifice and misery. The Valar meanwhile have it pretty good. They’ve got a ready supply of Teleri on hand to laugh at, but not so near that they actually have to associate with them, they’ve succeeded in breaking the spirits of most of the Noldor, and they’re permanently surrounded by only the most attractive caste of Elves who presumably spend most of their time writing poems about how great the Valar are. In Middle earth though unfortunately Sauron, being an immortal demi-god, comes back. The people of Middle Earth are now hopelessly and utterly exhausted. Spent. They stand not the slightest chance of defeating him. So the Valar decide to do something about it. After giving Sauron plenty of time to build up his power so that there can be almost no hope of defeating him without great misery, hardship, bloodshed, and vast quantities of blind luck they send five emissaries to Middle Earth to oppose him. Three of whom are feckless and indolent and proceed to literally do nothing, one of whom is actually terrified of Sauron, and another who proceeds to join him. All of whom the Valar, in their wisdom and benevolence, forbid from opposing Sauron directly or using the kind of demi-god powers which he himself freely and readily makes regular use of. They also decide that Sauron, and his ring are somehow entirely Middle Earth’s problem now despite that Sauron himself is one of their kind, and is only free because they mislaid him at the end of their war with Melkor.
Though their one emissary who actually does his job, despite being scared of Sauron, manages to oversee his defeat through sheer blind luck this is still only achieved with much needless bloodshed, misery and sacrifice. The chief heroes of this mighty endeavour are then allowed to live in paradise where they will actually die faster because the Valar don’t give a damn about anything that isn’t an Elf. Unless said Elf is Teleri, or happens to support the views of an Elf who wouldn’t commit suicide at their whim in which case they can go screw themselves.
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2021.12.01 18:40 harryhinderson Grandfather’s old ram (Mark Twain, Roughing It, Chapter 53)

I don’t reckon them times will ever come again. There never was a more bullier old ram than what he was. Grandfather fetched him from Illinois–got him of a man by the name of Yates–Bill Yates–maybe you might have heard of him; his father was a deacon–Baptist–and he was a rustler, too; a man had to get up ruther early to get the start of old Thankful Yates; it was him that put the Greens up to jining teams with my grandfather when he moved west. Seth Green was prob’ly the pick of the flock; he married a Wilkerson–Sarah Wilkerson–good cretur, she was–one of the likeliest heifers that was ever raised in old Stoddard, everybody said that knowed her. She could heft a bar’l of flour as easy as I can flirt a flapjack. And spin? Don’t mention it! Independent? Humph! When Sile Hawkins come a browsing around her, she let him know that for all his tin he couldn’t trot in harness alongside of her. You see, Sile Hawkins was–no, it warn’t Sile Hawkins, after all–it was a galoot by the name of Filkins–I disremember his first name; but he was a stump–come into pra’r meeting drunk, one night, hooraying for Nixon, becuz he thought it was a primary; and old deacon Ferguson up and scooted him through the window and he lit on old Miss Jefferson’s head, poor old filly. She was a good soul–had a glass eye and used to lend it to old Miss Wagner, that hadn’t any, to receive company in; it warn’t big enough, and when Miss Wagner warn’t noticing, it would get twisted around in the socket, and look up, maybe, or out to one side, and every which way, while t’ other one was looking as straight ahead as a spy-glass. Grown people didn’t mind it, but it most always made the children cry, it was so sort of scary. She tried packing it in raw cotton, but it wouldn’t work, somehow–the cotton would get loose and stick out and look so kind of awful that the children couldn’t stand it no way. She was always dropping it out, and turning up her old dead-light on the company empty, and making them oncomfortable, becuz she never could tell when it hopped out, being blind on that side, you see. So somebody would have to hunch her and say, “Your game eye has fetched loose, Miss Wagner dear”–and then all of them would have to sit and wait till she jammed it in again–wrong side before, as a general thing, and green as a bird’s egg, being a bashful cretur and easy sot back before company. But being wrong side before warn’t much difference, anyway; becuz her own eye was sky-blue and the glass one was yaller on the front side, so whichever way she turned it it didn’t match nohow. Old Miss Wagner was considerable on the borrow, she was. When she had a quilting, or Dorcas S’iety at her house she gen’ally borrowed Miss Higgins’s wooden leg to stump around on; it was considerable shorter than her other pin, but much she minded that. She said she couldn’t abide crutches when she had company, becuz they were so slow; said when she had company and things had to be done, she wanted to get up and hump herself. She was as bald as a jug, and so she used to borrow Miss Jacops’s wig–Miss Jacops was the coffin-peddler’s wife–a ratty old buzzard, he was, that used to go roosting around where people was sick, waiting for ‘em; and there that old rip would sit all day, in the shade, on a coffin that he judged would fit the can’idate; and if it was a slow customer and kind of uncertain, he’d fetch his rations and a blanket along and sleep in the coffin nights. He was anchored out that way, in frosty weather, for about three weeks, once, before old Robbins’s place, waiting for him; and after that, for as much as two years, Jacops was not on speaking terms with the old man, on account of his disapp’inting him. He got one of his feet froze, and lost money, too, becuz old Robbins took a favorable turn and got well. The next time Robbins got sick, Jacops tried to make up with him, and varnished up the same old coffin and fetched it along; but old Robbins was too many for him; he had him in, and ‘peared to be powerful weak; he bought the coffin for ten dollars and Jacops was to pay it back and twenty-five more besides if Robbins didn’t like the coffin after he’d tried it. And then Robbins died, and at the funeral he bursted off the lid and riz up in his shroud and told the parson to let up on the performances, becuz he could not stand such a coffin as that. You see he had been in a trance once before, when he was young, and he took the chances on another, cal’lating that if he made the trip it was money in his pocket, and if he missed fire he couldn’t lose a cent. And by George he sued Jacops for the rhino and got jedgment; and he set up the coffin in his back parlor and said he ‘lowed to take his time, now. It was always an aggravation to Jacops, the way that miserable old thing acted. He moved back to Indiany pretty soon–went to Wellsville–Wellsville was the place the Hogadorns was from. Mighty fine family. Old Maryland stock. Old Squire Hogadorn could carry around more mixed licker, and cuss better than most any man I ever see. His second wife was the widder Billings–she that was Becky Martin; her dam was deacon Dunlap’s first wife. Her oldest child, Maria, married a missionary and died in grace–et up by the savages. They et him, too, poor feller–biled him. It warn’t the custom, so they say, but they explained to friends of his’n that went down there to bring away his things, that they’d tried missionaries every other way and never could get any good out of ‘em–and so it annoyed all his relations to find out that that man’s life was fooled away just out of a dern’d experiment, so to speak. But mind you, there ain’t anything ever reely lost; everything that people can’t understand and don’t see the reason of does good if you only hold on and give it a fair shake; Prov’dence don’t fire no blank ca’tridges, boys. That there missionary’s substance, unbeknowns to himself, actu’ly converted every last one of them heathens that took a chance at the barbacue. Nothing ever fetched them but that. Don’t tell me it was an accident that he was biled. There ain’t no such a thing as an accident. When my uncle Lem was leaning up agin a scaffolding once, sick, or drunk, or suthin, an Irishman with a hod full of bricks fell on him out of the third story and broke the old man’s back in two places. People said it was an accident. Much accident there was about that. He didn’t know what he was there for, but he was there for a good object. If he hadn’t been there the Irishman would have been killed. Nobody can ever make me believe anything different from that. Uncle Lem’s dog was there. Why didn’t the Irishman fall on the dog? Becuz the dog would a seen him a coming and stood from under. That’s the reason the dog warn’t appinted. A dog can’t be depended on to carry out a special providence. Mark my words it was a put-up thing. Accidents don’t happen, boys. Uncle Lem’s dog–I wish you could a seen that dog. He was a reglar shepherd–or ruther he was part bull and part shepherd–splendid animal; belonged to parson Hagar before Uncle Lem got him. Parson Hagar belonged to the Western Reserve Hagars; prime family; his mother was a Watson; one of his sisters married a Wheeler; they settled in Morgan county, and he got nipped by the machinery in a carpet factory and went through in less than a quarter of a minute; his widder bought the piece of carpet that had his remains wove in, and people come a hundred mile to ‘tend the funeral. There was fourteen yards in the piece. She wouldn’t let them roll him up, but planted him just so–full length. The church was middling small where they preached the funeral, and they had to let one end of the coffin stick out of the window. They didn’t bury him–they planted one end, and let him stand up, same as a monument. And they nailed a sign on it and put–put on–put on it–sacred to–the m-e-m-o-r-y–of fourteen y-a-r-d-s–of three-ply–car–-pet–containing all that was–m-o-r-t-a-l–of–of–W-i-l-l-i-a-m–W-h-e–”
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