Free bed for stardoll

Reddit Serbia

2008.08.09 23:33 Reddit Serbia

Dobro došli na Serbia, najveći srpski kutak na Redditu. Upoznajte zemlju fascinantne prirode, dobrog provoda i još boljih ljudi. ///// Welcome to serbia, the largest Serbian community on Reddit. Explore a country of incredible nature, great parties and even better people.
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2009.07.15 00:01 Everything about Chihuahuas

A subreddit all about Chihuahuas. These little dogs get into your heart. Chihuahuas are not an accessory. Let's break the stereotype.
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2012.09.07 13:34 Get Disciplined!

Help others attain self-discipline, by sharing what helps you. Meet your goals and improve your life, reddit style!
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2024.05.19 00:59 GoAheadMMDay UPDATE 3: Torment Techniques Used by Canadian and US Militaries

UPDATE 3: Torment Techniques Used by Canadian and US Militaries
Update #3 appears at the bottom.
Due to numerous disparaging comments by multiple individuals, I have reposted my article.
Heckling does not change what occurred. People need to know these truths, especially those who have experienced the same. They need to know they are sane, that such things are indeed being perpetrated, and the perpetrators use shame to silence them and protect their activities.
I write to encourage them not to listen to disparaging people who speak without knowledge.
February 10, 2024
I am Joseph Cafariello, a Canadian citizen and ex-member of the Canadian military. Of sound mind, not on medication, not a drug user, not a marijuana smoker, not an alcohol drinker, with no mental disorders.
I recently posted to this Liberty subreddit experiences of harassment by the Vancouver police and fire departments (Vancouver, BC, Canada). I’m the fellow who was repeatedly ordered by police to stay out of Vancouver’s Stanley Park, and was continually harassed whenever I visited the park (which I do every second day on my early morning walks).
I'm happy to say their following me reduced to almost nothing immediately upon posting those experiences here, and people no longer exit their cars to stand on the path as I walk by (which I described in that post). They were either informed of my post or found it themselves, seeing as my internet activity, and phone activity for that matter, are under continuous surveillance (plenty of proof which I will not include here to avoid running off-topic).
In this post, I would like to shed some light on other harassment which is still ongoing, since it occurs in private, away from potential observers. It involves the Canadian and US militaries.
Havana Syndrome
In 2016, numerous employees of the Canadian and US embassies in Havana, Cuba, started experiencing head injuries ranging from mild headaches to concussions. It happened in their sleep, and came to be called Havana Syndrome.
Wikipedia explains (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Havana\_syndrome):
“Havana syndrome is a cluster of idiopathic symptoms experienced mostly abroad by U.S. government officials and military personnel. The symptoms range in severity from pain and ringing in the ears to cognitive dysfunction and were first reported in 2016 by U.S. and Canadian embassy staff in Havana, Cuba. Beginning in 2017, more people, including U.S. intelligence and military personnel and their families, reported having these symptoms in other places, such as China, India, Europe, and Washington, D.C. The U.S. Department of State, Department of Defense, and other federal entities have called the events "Anomalous Health Incidents" (AHI). Of over a thousand purported cases, the majority of US investigative bodies found only a few dozen cases to be suspicious.”
Ladies and gentlemen, I can tell you exactly what happens, because I have been experiencing this since I first joined the Canadian military back in 2002, and am still experiencing these “torments” (as I call them) to this day, already 3 years after leaving the military.
I go to bed. In about 15 minutes, just as I am on the cusp of falling asleep, a hear and feel a heavy thud reverberate and ultimately strike my skull. My body releases a sharp burst of adrenalin, my heart starts racing, and my blood’s circulation speeds up significantly. Depending on the severity of the blow, it can take me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to fall asleep again. Though there have been times I could not return to sleep for more than 2 hours.
A strong headache is felt immediately, and lasts for hours. There have been times when my heart felt like it was going to burst, having been startled as such.
The pulse to the head sometimes reverberates through the wall and my bed’s headboard. I distinctly feel as though I have been hit on the top of my skull. At other times, it feels as though the pulse has come through the air, striking the side of my skull.
This is not a sleep disorder, for it does not occur regularly. At times, my sleep is disturbed in this manner 3 or 4 days in a row. At other times, there is no disturbance for up to a week. But they never let me go more than a week without such interruptions to my sleep.
Neither is it sleep apnea, as I do not awaken gasping for breath. The pounding headaches, sudden release of adrenaline, and heart palpitations I experience are caused by external impacts of sound waves or air bursts.
Sonic Weapons
How these pulses are produced is not easy to identify. As Wikipedia explains:
“Once the story became public, various U.S. government representatives attributed the incidents to attacks by unidentified foreign actors, and various U.S. officials blamed the reported symptoms on a variety of unidentified and unknown technologies, including ultrasound and microwave weapons.”
Sonic weapons have been in use for many years by militaries, and by police in crowd control. As Wikipedia explains (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonic\_weapon):
“Some sonic weapons make a focused beam of sound or of ultrasound; others produce an area field of sound. As of 2023 military and police forces make some limited use of sonic weapons.”
(Do not believe the 2023 timeline. The Canadian military has been using these weapons since the early 2000’s at the latest.)
Wikipedia continues:
“Extremely high-power sound waves can disrupt or destroy the eardrums of a target and cause severe pain or disorientation. This is usually sufficient to incapacitate a person. Less powerful sound waves can cause humans to experience nausea or discomfort.”
The users of these technologies must also be using thermal detection equipment to monitor the target’s sleep. As I mentioned, I most often feel these blows the moment I am falling asleep. Body temperature drops when we sleep, and brain activity slows. Heat-detection equipment is likely being used to identify the point at which the target is falling asleep.
Why they prefer to strike at the start of someone’s sleep as opposed to the middle of their sleep, I do not know. Perhaps their intent is to deprive the body of early sleep, limiting the amount of deep sleep available to the person before their alarm rings in the morning.
Ordinary Hammers
Not all such “torments” (as I call them) are caused by high-tech equipment. I have heard and felt distinct hammer strikes running along the 2x4 beams inside my walls. These strikes can be a single hard strike, or several strikes in a row. It is definitely caused by a person with a hammer because the intervals between strikes are equidistant in time; that is, the time spacing between strikes is not random and does not change from strike to strike, but is constant between strikes, exactly as when someone is hammering. And no, it is not someone hanging pictures at 1:30 am, multiple times a week, for years.
On one occasion, when I was standing at my kitchen sink, I felt the floor-board directly under my feet pulse so sharply it felt like a brick had struck the soles of my feet. In this case, my military neighbour likely used a hammer to strike the floorboard on his side of the wall. It is the only plausible explanation.
Surveillance
This leads to surveillance of one’s activities at home. I have plenty of proofs of that. They seem insignificant on an individual basis. But when you put them all together, they present a clear picture of home surveillance.
My laptop computer’s lid cracked one night, at the bottom left corner of the screen. The next day at work, I heard my military supervisor relate to another co-worker that the night before, his laptop computer’s lid cracked at the bottom left corner. I swear to the Lord in Heaven, I am being truthful.
I tested my suspicion of being surveilled. At home one night, I blurted out-loud, “VW Passat. What an ugly sounding word, ‘Passat’”, I said. A few days later, my military colleagues at work started playing a card game at lunch, invented by one of them. The name he gave his game was “Passat”, and when he spoke it, he looked at me for a reaction. If you ever contact the Halifax military base, ask for the Claims Department and ask them if they are still playing Passat.
On another occasion, at a time when I frequented the gym every second day for a few years, I suspected my van had been fitted with a listening device. I suspected so because a number of things I had spoken with people about on my phone while in my van (nothing illegal) were repeated by people at the gym in conversations among themselves. Too many times, parts of other people's conversations matched parts of conversations I had had with others while I was in my van.
I already knew my phone was being tapped, but I also suspected my van was bugged. So one evening while driving in my van, I blurted out-loud a number of things I said I hated. "I hate (this or that)"; "I hate it when...". One of them was, "I hate when people chew gum with their mouths open." I then vocalized an exaggerated gnawing sound, "Gnaw. Gnaw. Gnaw."
The very next time I went to the gym, 2 days later, while I was at an exercise, a fellow sat at an exercise directly behind me. And sure enough, he started chewing with his mouth open, vocalizing that gnawing sound, "Gnaw. Gnaw. Gnaw." I didn't look behind at him, because I knew what was going on, and I wanted to avoid playing into his hand. So he repeated himself again and again until I was done and moved to a different station. Now, honestly, who chews gum at the gym? You can't. Or you run the risk of choking for the heavy breathing, not to mention when laying down on benches. And with precisely the same exaggerated vocalized gnawing sound I had made in my van just 2 days prior.
Their whole intent is to let you know you are being surveilled. They want you to know, as both a warning and a provocation. They want you to say something, to launch accusations, which they would readily deny, making you look paranoid. If you react too strongly, they could even have you diagnosed with some kind of disorder, and put you on medication, which further plays into their hand. (More regarding medications in the last section of this post.)
This is why, as I mentioned in my previous post, they would park their cars shining their high beams on me as I walked past them during my morning walk. And why on some occasions, a group of 3 or 4 would exit their cars and stand on my path just as I approached, forcing me to go around them. They would then remain standing on the path until my return trip through, and after I had passed by the second time, then would then return to their cars - making it absolutely clear I was their interest.
Their intent is not only to make me aware, but also to present themselves in close proximity to me, within easy reach, in the hope I would confront them, resulting in an altercation that could land me in a lot of hot water - 4 witnesses against me, all pleading innocence.
Again, it is all designed to make you look bad, and to warrant some kind of legal measure against you - preferably a medical diagnosis, discrediting you in everything you say about them. If they can't refute your claims, their only remaining option is to discredit you. That's what all of these tricks are designed to accomplish. Who would believe anything you say, once you have been diagnosed with a disorder?
There are plenty more examples. But who would really believe them? I’ll save them for the future.
Home Invasion
Both during and after my military service, I have had my apartments entered without any signs of break-ins. How? Lock-picking and duplicate keys. Indications? Missing objects; ie: money, phone adaptor, etc. Nothing major. Just something to make us understand we are being watched, and to make us understand what they can do.
But it is always something small, something for which you would be ridiculed for divulging.
Two more examples: I found my razor, which I always lay-down razor-end to the wall, turned around, razor-end toward me. Also, in one of my house slippers I found a small shoe sticker on the up-side of the heel. I had those slipper for years, and never had any shoe stickers on them. Yet there it was, clearly visible on the top surface of my slipper, not the bottom. Could I have stepped on a shoe sticker when barefoot in my apartment, only to have the sticker transfer itself to my slipper when I wore it? How many shoe stickers do you have laying around your apartment that you can accidentally step onto?
If I had stepped onto a sticker in my apartment and had it stick to my heel, that means the sticky side was up against my skin. This means the sticker would have had to flip upside down such that the sticky side would then be down, allowing the sticker to stick to the slipper. Do you really think that happened? That sticker was not there when I left my apartment, but it was there when I returned. And it was the wrong sticker, wrong brand, wrong size.
Again, what is their intent? To make someone look ridiculous so no one will believe them should they speak of other more sensitive things.
Staged Incidents
The above incidents clearly point to coordinated and staged events (at my work, my home, on my walks, etc). This is so frequently met with incredulity. "But that would require coordination on the part of so many people," the public dismisses. "They wouldn't do that."
Oh yes they would, and they have, as explained in https://fightgangstalking.com/. Note the documented cases involving the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS, Canada's equivalent to the US' CIA) and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP, Canada's national police force) in the second quote, which were reported in national newspapers.
From https://fightgangstalking.com/:
“Disruption operations often involve tactics which are illegal, but difficult to prove. These tactics include – but are not limited to – overt surveillance (stalking), slander, blacklisting, “mobbing” (intense, organized harassment in the workplace), “black bag jobs” [home invasions], abusive phone calls, computer hacking, framing, threats, blackmail, vandalism, “street theater” (staged physical and verbal interactions with minions of the people who orchestrate the stalking), harassment by noises, and other forms of bullying. Many of these tactics were used by the FBI during its illegal COINTELPRO operations, as documented by stolen official documents and subsequent Congressional investigations.
"Although the general public is mostly unfamiliar with the practice, references to “disruption” operations – described as such – do occasionally appear in the news media, even though that fact would apparently be news to the editors of The New York Times. In May 2006, for example, an article in The Globe and Mail, a Canadian national newspaper, reported that the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) used “Diffuse and Disrupt” tactics against suspects for whom they lacked sufficient evidence to prosecute. A criminal defense attorney stated that many of her clients complained of harassment by authorities, although they were never arrested."
She can add me to that list too.
For the Benefit of Others
The experiences I have recounted here seem so trivial, so insignificant, they make you look ridiculous if you talk about them. But if we don’t talk about such things, no one will ever know about them. Other people have experienced the same, and are forced to endure such torments in silence. They need encouragement to talk about their own experiences, and so I write about mine in the hope they will talk about theirs, even if I do look ridiculous. The perpetrators are more ridiculous for doing them.
I remember a military colleague being hauled away by military police one morning, as she was struggling and having a violent fit. A fellow on her floor told me she was throwing chairs at her walls screaming, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”. When he mentioned that, I knew exactly what they had done to her. She was considered unruly, and was being watched intently. They wanted her out, and that is how they accomplished it. Through wall tapping and sleep deprivation, they push you to the breaking point. And when you finally lose control and do something rash, they pounce on you, and you’re out. Now she has a criminal record, considered a criminal when in reality she was a victim. Welcome to the Canadian military, and other militaries besides, I am sure.
There are dozens upon dozens of experiences I could present. But who will really read them? Worse still, who will really believe them? I overheard my military supervisor in Halifax whisper to another, “Do you think he knows?”, after I had mentioned one of the many “coincidences” I experienced, but with a tone of my being aware it was not a mere coincidence. As I turned my face to my computer screen, I whispered under my breath, but still loud enough for him to hear, “Yes, (rank) (name), I know.” A few minutes later, as he walked past my desk, he leaned in by my ear and whispered, “We’re just trying to help you.” I should have pressed him for answers right then and there, but you just don’t know how much trouble you can get into when making such accusations in the military. So I let it go. But I will never forget.
Should anyone reading this ever decide to launch some kind of inquiry, I can mention names of over 100 people to contact, including military personnel, family members, neighbours, building managers, and others who have been contacted by military personnel with false narratives about me. They flash their ID’s and other credentials, and people believe anything they say. They turn family, friends, co-workers and neighbours against you, even recruiting their participation. Your acquaintances not only participate, but actually feel justified and emboldened playing tricks on you. It isn't their fault, though; they have been misled. I would reference them solely for corroboration.
As a final thought, here are explanations of two military programs in which certain persons (sometimes military, sometimes civilian) are kept under constant surveillance, and are in some cases subjected to conditioning in an attempt to turn them into what is called a “sleeper agent”. Almost all of the tactics presented below have been experience by me, including constant surveillance (ie: my previous post here regarding being harassed on my morning walks) and sleep deprivation (as per the top portion of this post, which other military members in Cuba and elsewhere around the world have also experienced).
Pentagon’s Signature Reduction Program
See Newsweek’s article: https://www.newsweek.com/exclusive-inside-militarys-secret-undercover-army-1591881
Some excerpts from that Newsweek article, plus more background information on the Pentagon’s Signature Reduction Program, can be found here: https://fightgangstalking.com/
“The largest undercover force the world has ever known is the one created by the Pentagon over the past decade. Some 60,000 people now belong to this secret army, many working under masked identities and in low profile, all part of a broad program called “signature reduction.” The force, more than ten times the size of the clandestine elements of the CIA, carries out domestic and foreign assignments, both in military uniforms and under civilian cover, in real life and online, sometimes hiding in private businesses and consultancies, some of them household name companies.
“…a little-known sector of the American military, but also a completely unregulated practice. No one knows the program’s total size, and the explosion of signature reduction has never been examined for its impact on military policies and culture. Congress has never held a hearing on the subject. And yet the military developing this gigantic clandestine force challenges U.S. laws, the Geneva Conventions, the code of military conduct and basic accountability.
“…The signature reduction effort engages some 130 private companies to administer the new clandestine world. Dozens of little known and secret government organizations support the program, doling out classified contracts and overseeing publicly unacknowledged operations.
"Federal spy agencies are using Americans to spy on their fellow citizens – the same approach to governance famously employed by communist East Germany."
How to Develop a Hypnotic Sleeper Agent
By Dantalion Jones / Masters of Mind Control
The following “was” on the web, but has been removed. Surprise, surprise. But I saved its web files to my computer years ago, knowing that sooner or later it would be removed. I made a jpeg image of the web page as it once appeared, attached here.
Note that I have experienced almost all of the tactics described below, including the stalking I mentioned in my previous post here (regular walks in the park), the sleep deprivation noted at the top of this post, and the surveillance and intrusions described here as well.
Quoting the now-removed webpage: “How to Develop a Hypnotic Sleeper Agent” (from here to end of post):
Amid all the conspiracy theories one of the most feared is that there exist "sleeper agents" in our society who are programmed to come into service when they are triggered by a phone call or key word.
These alleged sleeper agents don't even know they are programmed to become saboteurs, soldiers, suicide bomber, etc because of the thoroughness of their programming. They are the feared "Manchurian Candidate" that the movies portray.
The question is "Are they real?"
If they are true sleeper agents there is no way of telling until they are activated. One can however theorize exactly how they are made.
Indoctrination
Using indoctrination a person can be made to embrace a religious or philosophical belief that would make becoming a sleeper agent possible.
This would be a person so committed to an ideal they would be willing to wait patiently as a member of society until they are called into action. These people would know their mission and consciously hold it secret while interacting with the rest of society.
Conditioning
Conditioning is a repetitive process where the desired responses are enforced and rewarded and unwanted responses are punished. This can be done consciously as part of training drill and it can be done subconsciously using hypnosis or drugs to create amnesia.
Hypnosis
It has been demonstrated that hypnosis can create "amnesia walls" in which the subject has no conscious memory of what happened in the hypnosis session. It has further been demonstrated that hypnosis can give post hypnotic instruction to be carried out automatically in the waking state without the subject knowing it or questioning the behavior.
What follows is conjecture and theory based on testimonials of people who were alleged to be sleeper agents and soldiers.
Continuous Supervisions
Continuous supervision doesn't mean that the subject is cut off completely from society. It means that they are constantly overseen and every aspect of their lives are managed (without their knowledge or consent) to support their hypnotic programming.
This would include:
• Repeated reinforcement of all hypnotic conditioning.
• Handlers. Handlers are people who help maintain the subjects environment to maintain all the programming. They can play the role of family, friends, lovers, psychologists, coaches or any roll the subject perceives as supportive. The truth is the handlers are their to support the successful fulfillment of the programming and not the subject as a person.
• Minimal sleep so that the mind/brain does not process all the sleeper conditioning during sleep.
• Creating constant environmental challenges like unemployment or poverty. This gives the subject something other than their programming to focus on.
• Frequent hospitalization. This gives overt opportunity to sedate the subject for conditioning. If the subject has a history of hospitalizations for mental disturbances all the better. No one will take them seriously.
Joseph Cafariello
PS... Today is the second day after this post (February 12, 2024). A garbage truck just slammed into my parked car.
PPS... I finish writing this post because I am satisfied with its shape and content; not because of what happened to my car.
It is similar to when you are reaching for your coat, and someone tells you, "Take your coat." Since you have to take your coat, your brain tells you it's ok to obey them, and you comply. They just created an instance where they led you, and you followed them. And your brain accepted it.
It's a technique the military uses all the time. It trains you to accept instructions from that person or group. Done enough times, you become comfortable obeying them.
I just say, "I take my coat because I choose to, not because you tell me to." It's important to make that clear, to block the conditioning and affirm our self-governance; not just to them, but to ourselves as well. Now our brain realizes we took our coat by our own choice; we are still in command.
So too, I say regarding today's event. "Thanks for the warning, but I had already finished writing my post. I finished by my own choosing."
UPDATES: February 26 & March 07, 2024:
My apartment was once again entered while I was out. Either a key was used or the lock was picked. This may or may not have included assistance from building staff. Home invasions are included in the list of their techniques noted above, referred to as "black bag jobs".
All tenants on my floor received new fridges a couple of weeks ago. I removed the tape securing the bins inside my new fridge, and also removed all styrofoam pads from the corners of the glass shelves when I repositioned them.
The person(s) who have been invading my living space on a regular basis have struck again. As you can see in the photo below, the styrofoam pads on the corners of my fridge's shelves were restored when I was out of my apartment. I had removed all pads when I repositioned the shelves. Yet now they are back.
It is a tactic used to undermine our observational awareness in an attempt to make us second-guess and doubt ourselves. The aim is to cause people to feel less sure not only of the things we have done, but also feel less sure of the things others have done. They want us to question the accuracy of our observations and memory.
The idea is to train you to dismiss any anomalies you may observe as being your own misperception of things. Once they convince you not to trust your own judgement, they are free to do whatever they want to you, and you will simply accept it without questioning.
UPDATE: May 18, 2024:
Confrontations keep occurring with individuals, at times potentially violent. Following are just 3 such encounters as of late.
1 - Kick-boxer in the park:
As I parked my car in one of the parking lots in Vancouver's Stanley Park one night, another vehicle drove up behind me and parks several spots away. A tall man exited that vehicle, and walked hastily along the path I always walk, down some steps to the water's sea wall path. I took my time and followed my usual walk, also down the steps down to the sea wall. The man knew my routine, and was in a hurry to get ahead of me.
As I walk along the sea wall, I see the same man sitting on a bench, playing a loud Persian-sounding religious sermon on some device I did not clearly see. As I walked past him, he called out to me to stop and chat. I ignored him and continued walking past him. He rose and started walking behind me.
I opened my umbrella, turned, and walked past him the other way, returning to the stairs back to the parking lot. He also turned and continued following me. I started running. He also started running. I ran up the steps, as did he.
Being taller than I am, his legs are longer than mine, and he quickly caught up to me on a grassy patch at the top of the steps. I turned to him and asked, "Why are you following me?" He did not reply, but stood profile to me, the same stance a kick-boxer uses when ready to kick someone. He was tall, thin, and in excellent physical shape as you would see in a kick-boxer.
He did not speak at all, but was just waiting for me to make a move. I turned, entered my vehicle and left. The encounter continued with a chase through the park in our cars. Yes, that is correct. He chased me out of the park in his car.
2 - Told to keep quiet:
The perpetrators need to operate with as little detection as possible, and they repeatedly warn their subjects to keep their mouths shut about their experiences.
On another of my recent nightly walks through Stanley Park, a man stood on the sidewalk ahead of me about 50 meters away, looked at me, and shouted into the sky at nobody, giving the appearance of being a homeless person shouting for no reason. He then started walking in my direction. I continued walking straight. As he passed me, he leans into my face and shouts into my ear, "Shut the f_ck up!" I continued walking in my direction, and he resumed walking in his.
The idea is to make it seem as though he is just a deranged man wandering the streets at night, shouting at nothing, so that when he shouts at me, any observer would simply dismiss his actions. But in reality, he was sent to send me a message to stop publishing posts like this, which I had done many times on many sites, and continue to. The truth must be known.
3 - You'll be sorry:
On another occassion, while returning from grocery shopping one afternoon, I walked past a man sitting by a storefront. He was clean-cut, wearing clean clothes, without any carts or wagons or any belongings of any kind. As I past him, he asked me for some spare change. I replied, "I'm sorry," and continued walking past. He replied, "You will be."
There are multiple other experience, like two seemingly unassociated men standing on the sea wall about 100 meters away from each other, each of them spitting just as I walked past each of them.
There are too many experiences to mention. Looking at each experience individually, one would easily dismiss them as being unrelated and simply coincidental. But put them all together and a picture starts to form, like putting together the pieces of a puzzle.
As I hand you each piece of the puzzle one by one, you dismiss each piece, saying, "This could be anything." And you discard it. You keep discarding each piece as I hand it to you. By the end of it, you look down at the table and say, "You have nothing." That's because you looked at each piece as a separate item and threw it away. But if you leave the pieces on the table as I hand them to you and do not hastily discard them, you will see they form a clear picture when put all together.
We must look at all these events as a whole. Individually, each one could be anything. But when all of these experiences are put together and considered as a whole, they form an undeniable picture. Do not be quick to dismiss each piece. Leave the pieces on the table and look at the whole. The picture I present is sound. Remember, I have all the pieces; you do not. I see the picture more clearly than you do.
https://preview.redd.it/we31ymcsm91d1.jpg?width=966&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3d56ac3dd3558a60d477ba9315104d1b66b139f8
submitted by GoAheadMMDay to Liberty [link] [comments]


2024.05.19 00:41 MorganRose78 Radio

Alex always had a thing for vintage electronics. So when he spotted an old, dusty radio at the flea market, he knew he had to have it. The stall owner, a withered old man with piercing eyes, warned him about the radio. He claimed it was cursed, that its previous owners all met mysterious fates. Alex laughed it off as a ploy to jack up the price, but the old man let it go for a mere five dollars, almost as if he was eager to be rid of it.
Back in his apartment, Alex placed the radio on his bedside table. It was a beautiful piece, with a wooden casing and an intricate dial. He plugged it in, expecting nothing more than static. But to his surprise, the radio hummed to life, the dial lighting up with a soft, eerie glow. The tuning knob moved on its own, settling on a station that played an old, melancholic tune.
That night, Alex woke up at 3:33 a.m., his room filled with the crackling sound of static. The radio had turned itself on. He stumbled out of bed and switched it off, blaming a faulty switch. But the next night, it happened again, and the night after that. Each time, the clock read 3:33 a.m.
One night, as he lay in bed, the radio switched on, and through the static, he heard a faint whispering. He strained to listen, and though he couldn't make out the words, the tone was unmistakably pleading, desperate. His skin crawled, and he quickly turned the radio off.
Determined to get to the bottom of it, Alex did some research and found that the radio was from the 1930s. It had belonged to a family that had perished in a fire, their home burning down in the middle of the night. The only survivor was a young girl, who had been found clutching the radio in the charred remains of her bedroom. She never spoke again, and when she passed away years later, the radio was sold at an estate sale.
The more he discovered, the more uneasy Alex became. The nightly disturbances continued, and he began to feel a presence in his apartment. Shadows seemed to move on their own, and he often felt a cold breath on the back of his neck.
One particularly dark night, the radio turned on with a deafening screech. The static was louder than ever, and through it, he heard the voice of a child crying for help. His blood ran cold as he realized the voice was calling his name. Panicked, he tried to unplug the radio, but it seemed fused to the socket. The room grew colder, and he felt an invisible hand grip his arm, freezing him in place.
The voice grew louder, more frantic. "Help me, Alex! Help me!" It was as if the spirit was in the room with him, trapped between worlds. Gathering his courage, he shouted, "What do you want from me?"
The room fell silent, the static stopping abruptly. Then, the dial on the radio began to spin wildly, finally stopping on a station that played the old, melancholic tune once more. But this time, there were words sung by a hauntingly beautiful voice:
"In the night so cold and deep, A soul lost, in shadows it weeps. Find the fire, find the light, Free me from this endless night."
Alex understood. The spirit was bound to the radio, reliving the night of the fire over and over. He knew what he had to do. He took the radio to the place where the family's home once stood, now an empty, desolate lot. As he stood there, the radio began to burn in his hands, a fire igniting from within it.
He dropped it to the ground and watched as it was consumed by flames. He could hear the distant echoes of a child's laughter, free at last. The fire died down quickly, leaving nothing but ashes. The presence he had felt lifted, and the air seemed lighter.
From that night on, the disturbances ceased. The haunted radio was no more, and the lost spirit was finally at peace. Alex never bought another vintage item again, but he never regretted helping a lost soul find its way to the light.
submitted by MorganRose78 to creepysouls [link] [comments]


2024.05.19 00:31 darkandfair Does anyone want free sod?

I didn’t rent a sod cutter so it’s not in nice rectangles, but it’s extremely healthy turf. Weed free. Perennial rye.
I took out a lot of turf this morning to create a large landscape bed.
A ton of it on a concrete pad in my alley if anyone wants it. DM me for address.
submitted by darkandfair to TwinCities [link] [comments]


2024.05.19 00:17 Blade_of_Boniface Collection of St. John Chrysostom quotes criticizing the elites' treatment of the vulnerable.

I compiled these a long time ago in response to a relevant article about St. Chrysostom. I'm posting them here again since several people since then said they were immensely helpful and that they merit a post of their own. Feel free to discuss them and post other Church Father's social teaching in the comments below.
You eat in excess. Christ eats not even what he needs. You eat a variety of cakes. He eats not even a piece of dried bread. You drink fine Thracian wine. On Him you have not bestowed so much as a cup of cold water. You lie on a soft and embroidered bed. He is perishing in the cold….
You live in luxury on things that properly belong to Him….
....At the moment, you have taken possession of the resources that belong to Christ and you consume them aimlessly. Don’t you realize that you are going to be held accountable?
St. John Chrysostom's Homily on the Gospel of Matthew XLVIII
....
Do you wish to honor the Body of the Savior? Do not despise Him when He is naked. Do not honor Him in church with silk vestments while outside He is naked and numb with cold. He who said, "This is my body." and made it so by His word, is the same that said, "You saw me hungry and you gave me no food. As you did it not to the least of these, you did it not to me." Honor Him then by sharing your property with the poor. For what God needs is not golden chalices but golden souls.
.…It is such a slight thing I beg….
....nothing very expensive…
....bread, a roof, words of comfort. If the rewards I promised hold no appeal for you, then show at least a natural compassion when you see me naked, and remember the nakedness I endured for you on the cross….
....I fasted for you then, and I suffer for you now. I was thirsty when I hung on the cross, and I thirst still in the poor, in both ways to draw you to myself to make you humane for your own salvation.
St. John Chrysostom's Homily on the Gospel of Matthew L
....
....When Christ is famishing, do you revel in such luxury, act so foolishly?....
....Another, made after the image of God, is perishing of cold. Yet, you’re furnishing yourself with such things as these? Oh the senseless pride!....
St. John Chrysostom's Homily on the Letter to the Colossians VII
....
....He is not rich who is surrounded by many possessions, but he who does not need many possessions. He is not poor who possesses nothing, but he who requires many things. We ought to consider this to be the distinction between poverty and wealth. When, therefore, you see any one longing for many things, esteem him of all men the poorest, even though he possess all manner of wealth. Again, when you see one who does not wish for many things, judge him to be of all men most affluent, even if he possess nothing. For by the condition of our mind, not by the quantity of our material wealth, should it be our custom to distinguish between poverty and affluence….
....It's as if we were sitting in a theater, and looking at the players on the stage. Do not, when you see many abounding in wealth, think that they are in reality wealthy, but dressed up in the semblance of wealth. And as one man, representing on the stage a king or a general, often may prove to be a household servant, or one of those who sell figs or grapes in the market. Therefore the rich man may often chance to be the poorest of all. For if you remove his mask and examine his conscience, and enter into his inner mind, you will find there great poverty as to virtue, and ascertain that he is the meanest of men. As also, in the theater, as evening closes in, and the spectators depart, those who come forth divested of their theatrical ornaments, who seemed to all to be kings and generals, now are seen to be whatever they are in reality. Even so with respect to this life, when death comes, and the theater is deserted, when all, having put off their masks of wealth or of poverty, depart hence, being judged only by their works, they appear, some really rich, some poor. Some appear in honor, some in dishonor. Therefore it often happens, that one of those who are here the most wealthy, is there most poor…
....This also is robber, not to impart our good things to others….
....It is said to be deprivation when we retain things taken from others. And in this way, therefore, we are taught that if we do not bestow alms, we shall be treated in the same way as those who have been extortioners. Our Lord’s things they are, from whenever we may obtain them. And if we distribute to the needy we shall obtain for ourselves great abundance. And for this it is that God has permitted you to possess much. This doesn't mean you should spend it in fornication, in drunkenness, in gluttony, in rich clothing, or any other mode of luxury, but that you should distribute it to the needy. And just as if a receiver of taxes, having in charge the king’s property, should not distribute it to those for whom it is ordered, but should spend it for his own enjoyment, he would pay the penalty and come to ruin. Therefore also the rich man is, as it were, a receiver of goods which are destined to be dispensed to the poor, to those of his fellow-servants who are in want. If he then should spend upon himself more than he really needs, he will pay hereafter a heavy penalty. For the things he has are not his own, but are the things of his fellow-servants.
....Not to share our own riches with the poor is a robbery of the poor, and a depriving them of their livelihood. That which we possess is not only our own, but also theirs.
St. John Chrysostom's Discourse on the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus II
....
....Do you wish to see His altar?....
....This altar is composed of the very members of Christ…This altar you can see lying everywhere, in the alleys and in the markets and you can sacrifice upon it anytime.
....invoke the spirit not with words but with deeds.
St. John Chrysostom's Homily on the Second Letter to the Corinthians XX
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....Tell me, then, what is the source of your wealth? From whom did you receive it, and from whom the one who transmitted it to you? From his father and his grandfather." Yet can you go back through the many generations and show the acquisition just? It cannot be. The root and origin of it must have been injustice. Why? Because God in the beginning did not make one man rich and another poor. Nor did He later show one treasures of gold and deny the other the right to search for it. He left the earth free to all alike. Why then, if it is common, do you have so many acres of land, while your neighbor has no portion of it?....
St. John Chrysostom's Homily on the First Letter to Timothy XII
....
....I am often reproached for continually attacking the rich. Yes, because the rich are continually attacking the poor. But those I attack are not the rich as such, only those who misuse their wealth. I point out constantly that those I accuse are not the rich but the rapacious. Wealth is one thing, covetousness another. Learn to distinguish....
St. John Chrysostom's Homily on the Fall of Consul Eutropius
submitted by Blade_of_Boniface to RadicalChristianity [link] [comments]


2024.05.19 00:10 Pink-Fear 3 Bed 2 Bath - Greenpoint

3 Bed 2 Bath - Greenpoint submitted by Pink-Fear to NYCroommates [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 23:57 Efficient-Thought-34 Looking for a perfume that smells like Essie's apricot nail & cuticle oil (fruity/floral/shampoo-y)

I love the clean, almost shampoo-y smell of Essie's apricot nail and cuticle oil. Every time I put it on, I can't stop huffing my nails, and I'd absolutely love a perfume with a similar vibe for everyday wear. I think the notes are fruity/floral. It's delicate, clean, and no-fuss. It smells like the universally pleasant smell after you wash your hair with many popular drug store shampoos.
Can anyone recommend perfumes that smell similar? Cruelty-free brands are preferred.
Here are some scents in my collection that have a similar vibe to what I'm looking for:
Here's the ingredient list in the Essie cuticle oil: Runus armeniaca kernel oil / apricot kernel oil, simmondsia chinensis seed oil / jojoba seed oil, tocopheryl acetate, parfum / fragrance, phenoxyethanol, caprylyl glycol, hexyl cinnamal, helianthus annuus seed oil / sunflower seed oil, benzyl alcohol, ci 75120 / annatto, limonene, tocopherol.
Edit: Budget isn't a huge factor since I always buy decants first and luckily prefer 10 mL travel bottles to full-sized :)
submitted by Efficient-Thought-34 to FemFragLab [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 23:54 No_Fly_4650 PRIVATE ROOM AVAILABLE FOR RENT NEAR FOOTHILLS MALL!!!

PRIVATE ROOM AVAILABLE FOR RENT NEAR FOOTHILLS MALL!!!
One private room available for rent in a 3-Bed 2-Bath Home at Warren Farms!
Private Room for Rent: ($925/month) Available Sept. 1st, 2024. Free garage & curbside parking. Private closet space. Washer & dryer included.
This home is located 2 miles south of CSU & 1 mile West of the Foothills Mall. It’s right in the center of town close to everything.
This 3-bedroom two-story home in Warren Farms is located in a cul-de-sac with easy access to many neighborhood parks. Close to shopping, dining, & bus lines. The home features a small, easy to maintain, fenced yard that backs to open space and a walking trail. The Main Floor features recently upgraded flooring, and a large kitchen open to the dining & living room. The very large one car attached garage has a direct entrance into the home. The garage also offers a large storage space for those interested. Both bathrooms have recently been remodeled with new vanities, toilets and flooring. Upstairs has a spacious rec room for additional living area/computer room. All Appliances are included (including washer and dryer).
If you have any questions or want to tour the place, please message me through reddit or Zillow or respond to this thread!
Thank you!
Here’s the Zillow posting of the property if you want to see more:
https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/344-Plowman-Ct-Fort-Collins-CO-80526/54691956_zpid/
submitted by No_Fly_4650 to FortCollinsClassified [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 23:54 shadowF 20M / I think I might be sick. Have a chat with me today.

I feel like I have a fever, but not bad enough to keep me in bed. Also, I don't have anything going on this weekend. So, yeah, if you're up for it, feel free to DM me.
submitted by shadowF to MakeNewFriendsHere [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 23:45 Reeeez9 Im not too sure what is going on

Hello guys, i’ve been struggling with H for around 1 month now ( i think i did a lot of progress on this part) and struggling with T for around 22 days now. I did a post before this one to explain how did i get in this situation, i think it would help a lot to understand and possibly help me if you could read it, i would really appreciate it. I never had any kind of problem with my ears before, actually i always had pretty good ears. I don’t think that i have any hearing loss so far or any damages in my ears ( no visible one i guess because i went to the doctor and he said that everything was fine). The first week of my T was the worst ever. It’s was burning in my ears because my H and my T was so loud that i was hearing kind of laser beam going through my head. This situation happened twice and so far never happened again. The first week and almost second week and half, i had a lot of progress everyday and i am hearing a different ton everyday too, each days is different for me, im not experiencing the same thing twice. I think i got this after a acoustic trauma ( i screamed really loud at my neighbor, im explaing more in my other post) and i was extremely anxious and stressed, i think that all of this did a bad mix up and gave me this situation im in. But the part where im lost is that i seems to get a little bit of progress everydays still, some frequency are gone. it’s mostly a IIIIIIIIIIIIII ton that i hear now from the past 5 days i would say, the first 2 days was extremely annoying, to a 8/10 and i would say that now this is around 3/7 because i have a lot of spike that i don’t really understand. When im sad, scared or really anxious, it seems that my T and my are going worst and sometimes i feel that i am so close of being free of my T. As i could feel that he want to go away, but i didn’t do enough progress still to have it gone. When im sittting on my chair, most of the time i hear something that is around 2/3 now with the progress i made because it’s was 7/8 the last 3 days before, but when im laying in my bed. It’s pretty often turn into a 6/7 when im trying to sleep, maybe because im scared of it and i know that this is going to be bad. I think that my T is really much stress related in my nervous system, but this is extremely hard to understand. 2-3 days ago, i took a pill of pro lorazepam, this helps a lot to concentrate myself on the positive and kinda kills the negative thought, i still need to focus on, but this is helping a lot. When i took the pill, my T was 8/10 to 1/10 to almost nothing and i slept the best night of the past month. Also, when i take a shower and im going out, most of the time my T is like almost gone to almost 0. It’s just that i don’t really understand all of this and i want to know if there is still hope for me to recover from my T. Im sure that in my case i can fully recover, i really feel it, but i don’t know if im going to have this opportunity as everything seems really hard to achive. Thank you for reading my post, i really appreciate you guys.
I wanted to post this in the tinnitus sub, but it seems that i don’t have enough karma or something like that.
Im 23.
submitted by Reeeez9 to hyperacusis [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 23:29 The-Mr-E Walk Me Home: Dating a Monster Girl - Part 13 - Eyescraper

SYNOPSIS: Walking your OP monster girlfriend home is easy. No one messes with you. Getting back to your house on your own? That's the tricky part.
What's worse than an eldritch building? How 'bout a bigger one?
First Previous (See NEXT>> in comments)
Chapter Cover Art (From Mood Writing Sample)
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Norman took one look at the towering building to his left. Then he took off.
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“̷̵̵̷̶̷̶̶̸̶̶̸̴̡̛̮͉̹̪̼̙̤̲̤͔̗̮̥̣̜͓̟̞̃̔̈́̑̈̍͌̂̂̐̋͛̉̓G̵̶̸̷̴̸̵̵̴̶̸̷̸̴̶̨̢̧̞͈̠̜̳̪͎̬̜̱̫͚̝̩̑̒͐́͆̃̿̉̆̉̃̓̀̎̐͂̎̒̕̕͘͝͝Ǵ̷̷̷̴̸̸̷̷̷̷̵̨̢̞̥͓̰͖͙̰̝͖̩̺͍͎͉͌̽̂́͐̓̀͒̐͗́M̴̷̶̵̴̷̵̶̵̴̷̷̢̡̧̢̛̫̲͕͇̗̯͚̥͙͓͓̀̒͑͒̂̊̅̐͛̂̄͌̈̚͝M̴̷̶̵̴̷̷̶̷̬̼̭̗͍̺̳̩̱͍̂̄̾͂̔̽̇̀͝͝͝͠M̶̯̙̥͕̞̰̗̗͐̔!̸̞̞̬̼̖̩̈́̇͊͐̾͑͋̉!̷̧͈̘̬̆͑͝!̶̤̜̔̓̆̅̔͆͘͝”̸̨̧̼̭̫̒͜

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The new hunting cry boomed through his body. It was much louder than the first building’s, albeit shorter, like a tap on the shoulder from a titan proclaiming its presence to the world.
Of course, the tap of a titan could flatten a man.
Norman fell. His legs had simply stopped working. Jaws clenched, he forced his will into wobbly muscles. His palms slammed into the waterlogged street, stopping the fall. With a sharp push, he sprang back to his feet and ran on.
Norman yanked out the remaining two flash grenades on the go, strung them together, armed and drew back for a throw.
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“̷̬̳̙̍̎̆G̴̥͇̥͔͕̫̈̀M̵̛͇̜͙͇̫͔̭̩̝̜̓̈̏̓̓̀͛̚͜͝͝M̷̩͈͉̘͙̿͌̃̽͂̃̏̏̓̾̈́͌̈́̉̅̄̉͘!̷̢̧̢̤͓̭̖̝̏̏̄̓̾̉̆͋͘͝!̵͍̱̼̮̯̺̲͙̖̮̗͓̻̓̊͂̒̔͐̎͘͘̚!̵̙͍̟̌͒̃͂̎͠”̶̡̛̠̱̭̞̹̟͉̒̎̎̂͂̐̈́̓̄̚̕

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That quick boom pounded through him. His fingers faltered. The flash grenades slipped from his grip and fell. He was still recovering from the sound when they went off at his feet. The nightsight filtered the flash, so he didn’t go blind. He’d gutted the flash grenade’s speakers, so he didn’t go deaf. The peeping building could deafen him all on its own … no, this wasn’t a peeping building. He’d slew a peeping building. They were small fries by comparison.
This was an eyescraper.
Tentacles the width of busses unsheathed from its sides. Even if he’d managed to launch the grenades and bathe it in smitelight, he suspected that wouldn’t be enough.
Norman sliced at its eyes with a focused beam. It barely flinched. Maybe if it got close enough, he could affect it a bit. By then, it would be too late.
Throbbing chuffs thundered from the monster. It sounded like a laugh.
Norman shot it a defiant glare. He bolted. Not fast enough. He could feel the giant closing in. So, he moved faster. Then faster, and still faster. His muscles blared their warnings. Rain lashed his face. He felt the air begin to resist his movements as he reached a speed at which it mattered. It was in his way, so he pushed through it too. No one was there to tell him he was moving far faster than any human known to history. All he cared about was hearing that thing fall behind him, and so it did. The tremours of its tremendous movements grew fainter.
At the end of the street, an apartment building came into view. Norman threw himself against it, climbing with the reckless abandon of a madman. He was halfway to the top.
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“̷̧̨̭̹̘̥̮͖̤̻̥̬̌̀͒̔͌̊̀̚͜͜͠Ǧ̶̨̨̧̺̘̰̗̘̥̝̗̦̩͖͎͋̈͑͐̒̽̉̔͛̾̒́̕ͅM̴̨̉́̾̉͂͆̔̿̀̃̇̎̍͆̂̽͗̔͘͠ͅM̷̝̻̱̆̍͜!̴̮̬̯̮̦̖́͂̆͋̿̇̎̄̄̅̂͑̎̀̕͘͝͝͝!̸̲͎̲̼̠̮̱͖̥̭̤̩͓̘̜͈̟̖̮̰̦͖̀̂͗͂̽̈́̋͌͂̐̓̈̕!̸̜̆̿̋̔̽̕”̷̢̦̜̰̼̳̝͓̆͗̈́̆̆̑̃̾͑̀͗͒͆́͐͒̈́̿̽̕̕͜

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His grip went limp. He fell. Struck the ground. His head bounced. The world grew fu...z z y.
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W
h
y
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w
a
s
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h
e
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r
u
n
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i
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g
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a
g
a
i
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_CHAT

Something was yapping in the background, but it wasn’t important. He felt fine. Everything was fine. Why not rest? Why was he even-?

_CHAT

What? No he didn’t! Promises weren’t for trolls! Why would he leave Amy anyway?
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“̸̼͔̖̜̫͍͚̊́̽͆̓̂̋̋͐̕Ģ̴̢͕͉̯̺̗̖͔͙̪͓̻̯̫̭̙̱͕̠̭̩̌M̸̨̧̘̟̹̖̻̲͍̭͓͉̰͙̦̣̜͉̻̎̅͗̇̈́̈̏͌̓̾̀̈̈́͜M̵̢̢̖̯̦͍͕̝̯̥̹̪̠̥̰̝̖̊͛̀̇͜!̵̢̡̡͚͕̘̟͕̥̦̪͆̈́̿͆!̴̛̹͈̜̥͔̬͎̪̩͚̦̯̟̘̩̰̳̍̑̂́̌͌̎́̒͋̽̿̑͌͝͝!̴̛̥͕̪͂̂̂̈̓͆͗̇̄̈́̌̅̎͂̕̚̕͝͠”̷̧̧̛̠̝̰̞̘͙̥̖͎̭̞̜̳̟̓͆̌̊̃̔́͒͋̇̈́͘̚͠͝ͅ
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Oh, right. There was a skyscraper running him down. To think he lived in a world where that made any sense. He rubbed his throbbing head. It was hard to think, though.

_CHAT

Brain fog would have to wait.
In two twos he jumped onto the side of the building and kept going up and up without breaking the momentum of the leap. Adrenaline had challenged gravity. Gravity lost. There was no pause to assess handholds. There was no rain stinging his face. In his mind, there was only ‘CLIMB, CLIMB, CLIMB!’ Crest the rooftop. ‘RUN, RUN, RUN!’ Descend the other side ‘JUMP!’ Gravity greedily reclaimed Norman, dragging him 4 storeys down at breakneck speed. He hit the ground in a parkour roll. Bruised a bone. Nearly fractured a shoulder. Wrenched his spine. Joints, muscle, ligaments almost popped. They didn’t.
He was running again.
Norman had never heard a building shred like paper. He’d never thought to wonder what it sounded like.
*( ( BMMM! ) ) ( ( BMM! ) ) ( ( BOOM! ) ) \*

SHHHHHRRRRRRMMMM!

Now he knew.
Those booms … was it the eyescraper’s tentacles breaking the sound barrier, or punching holes through the apartment building? Maybe both. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was tearing the building in two with the ease of one parting curtains. Buildings were not designed to be parted. Two became legions as the sundered building collapsed.
Norman rushed for an abandoned truck, slid beneath the trailer. Not quite fast enough. Most of the rubble didn’t reach him directly, but upon hitting the ground? It pulverised into a blast of cloud like a sandstorm. Hissing beneath the trailer, the dust stung at his ankles. He ignored it, racing for the truck’s cabin at the front. Perched on the step beneath the door, he braced as the dust raced beneath, around and above him. The cabin was his shield. He flinched to a duck when its windows shattered as the dust cloud blasted straight through them. The truck rocked and slid slightly, bombarded by wind and dust. It lurched as a chunk of debris finally reached it, crumpling the trailer like cheap foil.
Time to move.
Particles prickled Norman’s eyes, finding their way through the nightsight. He took a fresh glimpse of the path ahead before clouds of grey engulfed it all.
Memorised.
He dashed on. A split second later, the cabin was levelled under a larger slab of concrete. More sporadically thundered down around him. His eyes were squeezed shut, denying entry to any more particles. He scrambled through the street, dodging obstacles from memory. As for the concrete rainfall that couldn’t be seen? He had some prayers about that, but it probably came out like half-baked gibberish.
Norman chanced opening his eyes. They watered like crazy. At least most of the dust was gone. Behind him, the eyescraper’s menacing silhouette was picking through the rubble. Finally, an unblocked street was in sight. He rounded the corner.
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“̵̨̢̮͕̻̲̺́͠G̵̣̒́̓̽̅̊͘͝Ọ̷̝̣͓͙͔̀ͅͅǪ̷̜̺͚̲̯̭̈́̍͂͑̋̋̅͂̅́M̷̨̤̭͈̯̤͋̾̏̈̅̉̀̏͘M̵̡̢̙̱͌̊̓͒́͌Ḿ̸̳͗̀̀͐͒͗́͠ͅ!̷͍͉̣̪̫͙̳̲̤̎̀̾̅̈́̔̎̑͘͜͝͝!̴̨͈͖̘̖̅͛̋̽͠!̸͎̩͓̫̥̼̫̊”̵̫̗̞̣̝̃̅̕͘͜͜͝ͅ
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Another peeping building, rumbling in from the new street. Alright. Straight it was.
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“̷̢̧̻̹͚͔̾G̵̳̭̾̃̎̍̌̂̈́̂͛͘M̶̧̠͇͔͚͉̮͈̰͒͊́̏̔̄̾̊͐̒͂͜M̸̳͓̋͋̔͑̔̔̕͝Ő̷͓̟̱̮͓̍̂̾̽̇͘͠Ô̸̧̫͉̮͚̥̥̯̈̾͋̅͂͘̚M̶̢̫̥̰̮̪͙̬̙̗̺̽͒͐͌̋̈̄͆͝M̴̢̧̧̛̗͔͓̫̭̳̱͑̉!̵̡̛̛͍̲̓̅̑̈́̿̏͘̕͠!̸̧̖͔̣̩̏́͋̀͛͂̏̀̇̑͐!̴̧͕̝̮̤̱͈̬͋”̸͓̉̈́̑̎͊̌
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Maybe not. A third building emerged from the rainfall ahead. All streets blocked. He glanced about. All alleys still blocked. This really was a hunting net, but this much energy for a tiny human? Predators weren’t usually like this.
He ran for the nearest building that wasn’t occupied by eldritch calamari.

( ( BOOMM! ) )

The eyescraper’s tentacle crossed his path. Its supersonic shockwave sent him flying.
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Norman came to. Rain poured against his face as he lay on his back. How long was he out? Why was it so cold? The atmosphere didn’t quite feel right. It didn’t look right either. Something about the colours, or subtle lack thereof. Everything seemed a bit desaturated. Norman sat up and coughed his lungs out, evicting a mix of dust and rain water collected in his slackly gaping mouth. Buildings towered above him on every side, a bit too close for comfort.
.

“̸̮̼͍̻̯̲̹͓̬̻̓̍G̷̛̖̙̰̰̟̓Ḿ̸̧̨͊̊̔͒͌̆͆͘͠͝M̷̧̺̏̿̆͑͆͋̅͌̕͝G̵̰̺͇̺̯̲͇̠͖͂͜M̸̡̨͕̹̗̥̎͑́̾!̸͇͙͚̝̩͕̙̒!̵͙̬̮̪̏̍!̶͔̪͉̙̘̃̐̄͝”̶̡̡̥̫̻̝̜̫͙̩͛ͅ

.
Oh, right, those weren’t just buildings.
Norman raised a finger, gesturing to wait. “Could you *kaff!* quit subwoofin’ at me for, like, ten seconds!”
“Plucky.̵͚͐͝ for all seasons I .̵̦̺͐̅see,” came a skin-crawling voice from behind him.
Norman swung back his smitelight. It barely moved half a foot, then it stopped. Rather, something stopped it. That ‘something’ was cold. So cold. His wrist felt the chill without even touching it.
Norman turned, slowly, so as not to trigger further attacks. He found himself looking up.
Eight feet tall. Dark grey skin. A grin that went a little too wide. Dagger teeth. An open-chested jacket, revealing sinewy muscles with luminous markings like tattoos. His ebony eyes bore penetrating white pupils. Of all his traits, the dreadlocks stood out most. They belonged in a nightmare, dancing through the air with a life of their own. Somehow, they looked blacker than black, absorbing every ray of light or heat that came their way. That icy chill in the air shifted with the movements of his dreadlocks. They seemed to drink life from the air itself. Norman almost found it hard to breathe. One dreadlock clutched Norman’s smitelight, only by the tip, but its grip was iron.
Norman stared the tall man down.
The nyctal’s grin grew by a smidgeon.
Taking a calculated risk, Norman released the smitelight. Perhaps a peace offering would do good.
“Good.̷̧͋͌̎̿ boy,” the tall man nodded, admiring the smitelight as the dreadlock rotated it. “Clever.̴̧̤̩͈͓̖͂ͅ toy.”
Norman noted an understated Jamaican accent in his voice.
More dreadlocks slithered across the smitelight, as if tasting its every nook and cranny.
Norman did his best to look casual as he scanned for an escape route. The eyescraper’s tentacles had wrapped around the street, fencing him in.

_CHAT

Norman looked at the tall nyctal again.

_CHAT

The nyctal’s eyes shifted to Norman inquisitively. He frowned, raising an eyebrow as the comments piled up. Finally, he smirked mischievously.
“Your fanbase has peculiar tastes,” purred the tall man.

_CHAT

The tall man handed Norman his smitelight.
Norman’s suspicious gaze flicked between the nyctal and the weapon. Finally, he reached out and took hold of the smitelight.
It crumbled in his fingers like ice-cold ashes. If not for the insulation gloves, he might have gotten frostbite.
The nyctal laughed.
Norman didn’t find it particularly amusing.
The tall man sauntered towards the eyescraper. Beyond it was a darkness even the nightsight had difficulty piercing. He beckoned Norman as if it were an afterthought.
“Please come in, .̵̭̻͌̓̂Norman.̶̲͕͇̅̑̚,” the nyctal instructed.
Norman stared stubbornly, hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels. He felt for his smartphone. It wasn’t there. When had he lost it?
Without looking back, the nyctal held up Norman’s phone. It disintegrated between his fingers as he rubbed them together.
Norman glared. At least the guy hadn’t pickpocketed deeply enough to find other things.
“Hey. To whom do I owe the … pleasure?” Norman almost had to push the last word through his teeth.
The nyctal stopped in the eyescraper’s doorframe. Shrouded in shadow, little could be seen of him, save the piercing white pupils peering out. Then the glint of his Cheshire grin.
“.̴̜͓̭̻̤̍̈́̆͑͑John Crow.̸̻̮̓̈́̏̓͘,” he answered, before receding into the darkness.
The eyescraper’s tentacles dragged in across the street, corralling Norman towards the building. With an exasperated groan, he trudged towards the main entrance.
“I want my bed,” grumbled Norman.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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2024.05.18 23:25 SatelliteHeart96 "If you knew you had X amount of time to live..."

This is based off a post I saw somewhere else, and I thought it could make an interesting mental exercise where you'd have to think about what's the most important to you and how your goals would change based on the amount of time you had.
For the sake of this game, you'll know with 100% certainty that you'll be dead after your time allowance is up. There's no "but what if I only think I'll be dead in six months but then I'm not and I fucked up my entire life?" When your time is up, it's up. You'll be dead and won't have to live with the consequences of your actions.
So just for fun (and growth, maybe?) here's mine:
If I had 24 hours to live: Realistically, I'd know I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything of substance, so I'd just focus on pure pleasure. I'd go out and do something fun, maybe go to the nearby theme park in the city I haven't been to in a while or an expensive night club and wear my favorite outfit. I'd eat and drink whatever I wanted, and however much of it I wanted. When I got back home I'd take something to keep me as calm as possible and call/text the people I care about who live far away to let them know I care about them. I'd spend my last hours in bed watching a comfort movie.
If I had a week: I'd go on a road trip with my entire family to somewhere I always wanted to go to, maybe LA or somewhere similar, and spend the rest of my days there. Probably my actions would be pretty similar to the above, I'd just have slightly more time to do bigger things and say goodbye to people in person.
If I had a month: I'd quit my job for sure (for the top two, idk if I'd even bother to formally quit, I'd just stop showing up) and again, probably act fairly similar to above. I might try going to another country like Italy or Japan to see what it was like and try their food, but I don't think I'd want to die there. I'd also try and maybe finish something creative before my death, even if it was just a short story or a few poems.
If I had six months: 100% quitting my job and putting all my energy into finishing my long term writing project and having fun. I'd use my savings and hire a cleaner to come in once a month to take care of boring everyday tasks so I have as few distractions as possible.
If I had a year: Same as above really, but I might also try and experience a brief romance before the end. Probably wouldn't be able to truly fall in love but hopefully I'd at least meet someone cool.
If I had five years: I wouldn't quit my job, but I also try and find something better and something that would be fairly undemanding. I wouldn't be making any big career or life plans, but I would try to write something and get it professionally published before I died. I'd want to leave having made my mark on the world in some significant way.
If I had ten years: I'd probably quit my job ASAP to go back to school, while trying to find a relationship and work on my creative projects when I had free time or after I was done. IMO ten years would be super hard for me because it's long enough to where I'd definitely want to build a life but short enough to where I'd really have to haul ass if I wanted to make that life come to fruition.
If I had twenty years: Honestly, I'd probably be doing exactly what I'm doing now just with even more anxiety lol.
So yeah, feel free to add yours!
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2024.05.18 23:14 bigmlstake f4ggymedusa

f4ggymedusa
Watch out for this content creator who seems to have a new crisis every week, always asking for money after claiming they've been attacked, kicked out, or injured. A redditor was able to contact their mom who responded saying she's given them over 100 thousand dollars including money for top surgery.
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2024.05.18 22:46 SamMorrisHorror Them Devils Part 2

Scott Masterson had first met Scarlett at a rooftop party in downtown Dallas. Their age and the time of year were both in late springtime, them in their mid twenties and the date in early May. He had on a sharp yet breezy blazer and she astonished in a thigh length sleeveless blue dress.
“Oh hey Scott I don’t believe you two have met…” his then happily married friend had remarked with a slow swinging open hand toward her.
“Scott Masterson…reluctant friend to this knucklehead” he said with a tight lipped grin, trying not to be so obvious with his instant rapture.
“Scarlett…a pleasure…”
Her hand was so delicate to Scott’s touch. They locked eyes. It was like looking back through centuries of connection, endless days of laying in the sun next to the Seine River, or rising to Hollywood fame in the 1940’s and only having each other who would understand the glory and the pain of it all, or generations of quiet, simple country love that would bear such beautiful, happy children that would go on to raise beautiful, happy children, all with their dark blue eyes. Yes, the memories of every love story since the beginning of time was swirling right there in Scarlett’s irises. Scott had to catch himself before he stared embarrassingly too long.
“Sorry Scottie here doesn’t get out often” his friend quipped, which Scott appreciated actually, it helped him snap back to professionalism.
“Well I don’t either…at least I prefer not to.” Scarlett’s words flowed through the air like a flock of rose petals.
“Hey, kindred spirits.” Scott was really sensing a rising energy out of her, they had barely broken eye contact.
“Well, I’ll let you two have at it, I got a wife around here somewhere. Hey…Scott and Scarlett…not bad, not bad.” His friend exited stage right with a sly chuckle.
“Nice guy…so…what are you drinking, Scarlett?” Scott looked around for the emptiest corner of the rooftop bar, hoping to find a nice place for them to be able to hear each other. This night had just become something.
“That depends, Scott…what do you like?”
Oh man.
Well, as you can expect, the evening blossomed into a beautiful, long winded conversation that etched a long list of similarities between the two. They both lived in the city, had never married, and had dreamed of stable, simpler lives far away from tall buildings and busy streets. The next morning Scott awoke in her arms, which warmed much deeper than just his skin. He could feel her soothing his very identity, his future, everything. Her arms were tailor made to fit his very soul, and he had never felt more safe and at home.
“Mmm…you can stay right here…” she whispered, eyes still closed.
“I will…I will”
They both fell back asleep, into a dream that wouldn’t end upon waking.
Two years passed and suddenly they lived that simple backwoods life, way out where acres of land far out-populated the few and far between people. They took a lovely home, which happily looked over a long backyard, right up to a lively yet mostly undisturbed river. Their only neighbor within a mile was an older ranch worker named Charles, who rarely made himself perceivable. Days were spent way on into town where they both had offices. They didn’t mind the commute. Nights were spent mostly like this night, cuddled outside near a lovely little fire, with a slowly shrinking amount of wine sitting between them. Enjoying their Kingdom. Tonight, however, would prove to be a special night, for many reasons, all unexpected.
“Honey, I’ve been thinking…” Scott began, sitting up and opening his hands to the warmth of the fire.
“Oh?” Scarlett also sat up, eyes widening.
“So look, Scarlett, the last two years have been the best of my life. An absolute dream…”
She held her breath, her focus darting between his eyes and mouth.
“Yeah?”
“We have everything we ever want out here. But…what if there’s more?”
“More?” She had envisioned this very conversation hundreds of times.
“Our dreams have come true, but what if we…made some new dreams?” Scott turned and embedded his eyes into hers. He burst into a big smile.
“Scott…I thought…”
“Nevermind what I said” he cut her off, which he always made a point to never do, but this was a good exception.
“I’m ready, Scarlett…let’s have a family.”
“Ohhhh Scott, oh Scott”
They hugged tight enough to where it hurt.
“Well, in that case, we may need to open another bottle.” She said playfully, bouncing her eyebrows twice.
“Excellent. I’ll be right up. I’ll put this fire out and then start yours up.”
“Oh stop!” She bounded away girlishly, up the snowy back steps and into the house.
Scott let out a big sigh that he could see in the cold air and sat back in his chair, taking in his decision. He really was ready. He had secretly been keeping a long list of names that he liked and that he thought would work in front of Masterson. Especially little girl names. He stared into the campfire flames, getting lost imagining the three of them sitting right here, a little girl resting securely in Scarlett’s arms, as Scott had found himself, and stayed within these past two years.
Suddenly his trance was broken when, from the road in front of their house, came the sound of a vehicle approaching at high speed. Scott snapped his head back toward the house to get a better listen. He could see, around the house and through the trees, a large truck barreling down the country road, its headlights racing and bouncing with intensity. In an instant, it had passed up the road and out of sight.
“Huh?”
Soon, after a moment of silence, another sound echoed into the night. This sound rattled Scott to the bone and tore all that was right in his world into pieces. A sharp, bellowing squeal. His eyes shot over to his neighbors house, which was about a tenth of a mile to his right but still had a couple dim lights on that he could see. The shriek seemed to come from there.
Then, more squeals. It was hellish. More than animal but not quite human. Scott stood up. He heard crashing and tearing and further destruction coming from Charles’ house.
“Scarlett!! Scarlett!” He yelled toward his house, where he looked and could see her silhouette behind the curtains at the kitchen window. She didn’t seem to hear him.
He turned back toward his neighbors. The chaos had gone quiet. Not a half a moment after, though, he heard something big barreling through the trees as fast as that truck had been sprinting. Running, running furiously between the two houses. Searching, hunting. Scott was taken aback so hard that his heel had caught the edge of the fire pit, throwing him down only inches away from severe burns. He had knocked his head in the whiplash, making him groan and take a moment to regain his bearings.
“SCARLETT!!!!”
He screamed out toward his home as he sat up, rubbing a quickly rising bump on the back of his head. He heard a loud breaching on the side of his house. The patio door. No. No. Then, all hell broke loose. Scarlett started wailing and crying and he could hear crashes of plates and glasses and deep guttural roars coming from the kitchen inside. Shadows danced in a frenzy from the curtained windows. Sounds of instinctual survival seemed to be thrown from Scarlett inside. Sounds of defeat. Sounds of agony. Sounds of insanity. Scott sprang to his feet, his equilibrium being more damaged than he realized after his fall. He had to catch his hand on a chair to stabilize himself. Scarlett’s symphony of pain had gone quiet. Soon after something burst back out the patio door again and off in the same direction as that truck before.
Scott struggled back up to the house, slowly climbing the wintered, crunching stairs that led to the patio. He no longer yelled for Scarlett. In fact, the only thing that came to his senses was the sound of his own heavy breathing. Everything else had been turned off, save for a heavy and sudden dread that he had prayed he would never feel. He came to the side of his house where indeed the patio door had been busted and forced open. It laid inside the kitchen, its hinges snapped like toothpicks. Scott, with eyes wide and twitching, slowly entered his home and looked into the kitchen.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t even change his breathing. He didn’t blink. He just got a good long look at what laid before him.
Everything was broken. The fridge was on its side, the door hanging open and food and drink scattered all over the floor. The table was upended, its legs to the ceiling. A chair was resting on the counter, possibly having been thrown in defense. And Scarlett. Oh Scarlett. She…was…everywhere. She was all over the floor. She was sprayed against the walls. She was stuck to the window. She was in the sink.
Scott gently walked through the carnal mess and sabotage of his world. Long ago he had known exactly what he would do if something anywhere near this bad were to happen to him. He politely stumbled through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom. He opened his closet door and lowered a fire safe from the top rack. He unlocked it with a passcode. 511, after that warm May date when he had first met Scarlett. In the safe was a Sig Sauer P320 handgun. Scott took it out, along with a box of bullets, loaded one into the gun, put the safe back on its rack, and walked out of the closet, sitting on his bed. Their bed. Where they should’ve been laying right at this very moment, working toward a happy future. Where he would’ve kissed her forehead and put a hand on her growing midsection. Where they would have awoken on Christmas morning to the sound of children who were way too excited to remain asleep. Where they would’ve grown old. Where they would’ve smiled at each other through wrinkles, satisfied with all the love they shared and passed on to the next generations. Where they would’ve held each other in deep peace as they finally fell asleep to this world.
“I will…I will”
In one quick motion Scott pulled back the hammer and stuck the barrel of that pistol right up against his Governor and blew himself away, far away, right back into Scarlett’s loving arms.
Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett quickly yet stealthily made his way back to his Uncle’s house. He hugged the sides of the dark country road, keeping his eyes and ears wide open as to notice any sounds pertaining to the event that he had just witnessed there in the field next to the huge blaze. His only thought was Uncle Chuck. His house was right on the warpath of that horrible thing and Smallmouth had to go to him and make sure he was safe. He dared not go back to his truck, which would bring a lot of unwanted attention. No, Smallmouth walked and walked and finally saw the lights of his Uncle’s house. He carefully approached the front door from the shadowed driveway. Suddenly it occurred to Smallmouth that something was very wrong here. The door was busted in, having been plowed through by something very large and very strong.
“No…no…no”
Smallmouth slowly entered the house. The kitchen and living room were a disaster, chairs and tables and bottles strewn about and shattered. Bloody hoof-prints covered the floors, each of them the size of dinner plates. Smallmouth heard no noise. He felt himself well with tears, his nose a faucet that he began to sniff up as he worked his way through to his Uncle’s room, the door there also being broken in. A small whine growing in his throat, Smallmouth peaked into his uncles bedroom.
It was all in tatters. The bed had been attacked and shredded, the mattress being ripped up and thrown about as if it were made of cotton candy. More bloody hoof-prints were painted all over the brown carpet. Smallmouth trembled and put a hand up to his wet face. He didn’t see a way that his Uncle was anywhere near alive, knowing what he knew about the monster that had been in this house.
Smallmouth slowly walked to the living room, to the only little table that had been untouched in the attack. It was almost as if the bottle of whiskey teleported into his hand from the overturned cabinet, unopened. He fixed that real quick.
Soon he was several pulls deep of the only thing in the world that he knew would make him feel better, even if only for a few hours. He found his pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket and lit one up, although he was indoors. What did it matter? He sat in a chair that he had turned right side up and set the bottle on the table and looked out the back window into the pitch black. He cried for his Uncle and he cried for the world. He cried for himself. He cried for broken promises and his own weakness. He drank and drank until his vision shook from right to left everywhere he looked. At first he didn’t even notice the figures on the back porch. Then his vibrating focus did pick up on them, but by then it was too late. It was so dark out there but in their outlines he could see they wore long robes and hoods.
“HA!! COME AND GET ME! HAHA!! YOU COME AND YOU GET ME!!” Smallmouth boasted with a delusional amount of courage.
A creak escaped from the kitchen and he drunkenly slung his head over toward it. Three more figures stood there. Or was it just one? Smallmouth was none the wiser. All at once the hooded intruders from both inside and outside began to chant a strange, twisted rhyme in strikingly low and dissonant harmony:
“A sliver…of liver…goes down…with a shiver… …and gives…your gullet…to gall… …but drink…the Cider…that drowns…the Spider… …and you…will be free…of it all… …so tighten the grip…that loosens your lips… …O raise…the bottle…of brown… …and wake tomorrow…to find…in sorrow… …ANOTHER…SPIDER…TO…DROWN”
Smallmouth groaned at them in dissatisfaction and turned his bottle up again and began to chug the whiskey. As he did they repeated the chant except this time it was louder and closer. By the time Smallmouth had finished his bottle he was quickly losing consciousness. This wasn’t just whiskey. As he closed his eyes he felt hands grabbing him from all sides.
Smallmouth pulled open his sticky eyelids. His head felt like someone had bowled a strike into it. Wind froze his face. The smell of sickly, wet iron stung his nostrils. His vantage was higher than usual. Way higher. He was looking out into another field, but from easily ten feet up. He saw an old church, formerly painted white but now a flaky pale-beige. He heard the friction of a quick pull of rope below him, matched with a slight, tight pain at his feet. He looked down. A red-robed figure was fastening him against a wooden structure of some kind. His feet sat on a small flat platform perpendicular to a post that went from the ground up past smallmouths head. He couldn’t move his arms, so he quickly shot his eyes side to side. They were also tied to another horizontal post. A cross. He was being tied to a crude wooden cross. His shirt had been removed, exposing a hairy, overweight belly. Smallmouth tried to speak, but all that came out was a slow, unintelligible grumble. He was still drunk. No, this was more than that. He was under the influence of something strong and absolutely inhibitive. He wallowed again, and took in a deep breath. The smell of iron once again hit his nose. He looked down at himself. He was covered in a thick, red liquid. That wasn’t just the smell of iron. He had been splashed full body with blood.
“Now now, young servant…” the figure at his feet had finished his task and took a couple of steps out to admire his own handiwork.
“Ahh…perfect. The picture of martyrdom. Yes, you will always be remembered, Brother Bassett. You are to be the first Saint of The New Bible.” He opened his arms in his declaration.
Smallmouth looked up into the cold night sky. The moon shown down, giving everything a midnight spotlight. It was a gorgeous waxing gibbous, big and bright but not quite full. Yes, he was in a great big snowy field that housed an old worn down church. From the windows of the church he saw candles glowing, showing dark heads and shoulders looking out to him, also covered in loose hoods, hiding faces. He was hanging on a cross about one hundred feet from the old church. In front of the cross was a partially covered pit, a couple of two by fours supporting double armfuls of branches and dead leaves.
The figure at the base of the cross put his arms back to his side. He was still looking right at the drugged Smallmouth’s dumbstruck face. Even with a veiled mouth you could hear the twisted smile in his voice.
“Tonight you will help us finally defeat this legion, Smallmouth. You see, it may have the evil spirits within it, but at its core, it is still an owned animal. An animal that knows its Master very well. An animal that will remember the smell of its Master. You, my friend, are covered in its Master right now. And you are hanging on a cross, the symbol of this brute’s most hated enemy. But take heart, young Brother. Before you is our pit of spears. Yes you will attract the beast, but our Divine plan will intercept it and the beast will fall and be pierced. And then, oh dear brother, you will forever be immortalized. You will be purified in fire by the hands of your church brethren. Out of your screams and into the smoke the iniquities of all will be released. We will go on to preach your good example and your sainthood forever and ever.”
Smallmouth began to drool and hum pathetically. He could hear and understand the words of the robed man but he couldn’t fight back. His body was useless, limp inside its rope confines. All he could do now is think, and watch, and wait, and dread his fate.
The figure turned away from him, walking over near the pit and gathering up a bundle of brambles and throwing them over the last open area, covering it completely. He then crunched through the snow over to the front door of the old church, groaning open the door. He stood at the dark doorway for a few seconds in silence, and then began to make a noise. An over exaggerated pig squealing noise, high pitched and infuriating. Soon after other voices from inside the church began to do the same, their wailing echoing out of the building and all across the field, loudly signaling, calling out. It may as well have been a dinner bell. Not a half minute after they began the distress signal it was loudly answered by a distant squall. A furious squall.
This was it. Either way it happened Smallmouth was about to die. Experience terror, and then die, and not even have the ability to put up any kind of defense. It wasn’t fair. He just slowly lifted up his head and watched out far into the moonlit, white field. He then raised his heavy head further and took a good gander at the moon and stars for the last time.
“God,” he thought to himself, still having full inner monologue yet no outer motor function, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry for being what I am. I am so sorry for ending up in this place. It’s only my own fault. If it wasn’t for me being so stupid and messy and drunk and terrible then this wouldnt be happening to me.”
He began to shed tears that washed lines into the blood on his face.
“Please forgive me God. Please, please, please forgive me for all of my sins. This is it. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!!” He yelled inside his own mind, hoping and trying to send his silent words as far up into heaven as they could go.
He lowered his eyes back to the ground. He looked over at the church again. The windows were empty, the candles were extinguished. Those hooded cowards were hiding from their own handmade sacrificial service. All was quiet for a long pause until a much louder, closer bleating began at the edge of the forest not even three hundred feet away from Smallmouth’s glazed over eyes. It was time, and it was too late for a miracle.
Out of the woods, slowly and heavily, stomped the massive hog. As it marched closer and closer Smallmouth could see its white, boiled over eyes and black-burnt skin. Its jaws were flying open and snapping its sharp, pocket knife-sized teeth together in an intimidating “clack”. It was now less than a hundred feet away, the dark old church to its right shoulder. It stopped, its pale glowing eyes fixed right on Smallmouth on the crude cross. It truly was a monster. It stood as tall as a man and as long as a canoe. Around its murderous mouth were stains of red, the remnants of all that it had taken from the world on this unholy night. In its clanging jaws were bits of flesh. It snorted and scowled.
Then, in a fury, it wailed that horrible squeal and started off into a dead sprint. It galloped and galloped toward Smallmouth at a high, blistering speed. It kept yawping and howling as it cut the distance from the cross down to fifty feet, forty feet, thirty, twenty. All at once it passed over the covered pit and plunged in. In his doomed, dead eyed stupor Smallmouth could hear what sounded like paint being dumped from a rooftop onto concrete. Trails of black liquid squirted and splashed up from the pit, which had been uncovered in the fall of the beast. Unbelieving, Smallmouth saw dozens of steel spear tips standing up from the dug-in ground. Right in the middle of them the beast was stuck. The sheer weight of the animal had caused the spears to pierce through its tough skin, sticking out of its back, soaked in black blood. One spear had stabbed right under the hogs chin, passing up through its jaws and out its black snout. It made agonized sounds. It roared and roared and shook the spears inside it, beginning furiously, then growing weaker and weaker within seconds. Finally, it let out one last weak little squeal, before it went still and quiet.
Smallmouth was frozen both physically by drugs and constraints and mentally by shock. His mouth hung open toward the pit of spears, his vision blurry. He took in a deep, troubled breath and let out a moan of disbelief and relief. The old church doors sprang open, and the sound of jubilation within flowed out into the night. The red robed figures flocked out of the building toward the pit, arms raised in celebration. They surrounded the hole, getting a good look at their success and their enemies defeat. Some held additional spears and began further stabbing the dead animal, causing more black blood to be shed up at them. They all yelled loudly and triumphantly. Some danced around the pit. Some skipped over to Smallmouth on the cross and danced around him, slapping his legs and spinning in circles.
Smallmouth looked on at the raucous celebration, both in utter disbelief of their trap actually working and also in turmoil. How long now until they fully execute their plan.
A taller robed man, whose voice matched the same one who spoke to Smallmouth as he tied his feet, spoke up, sounding almost happily intoxicated.
“Ahh yes my Brothers!! It is done!! We have won!!!”
They all whooped and cheered.
“Brother Norman, go into the church and bring me the small tank of fuel. Let us send our dear Saint Bassett to the Holy lands, where he will be adored for all eternity!”
They all clapped and hollered. One figure began childishly skipping away from the pit and over toward the front door of the church.
Then, it happened.
From the pit all of a sudden a great blaze erupted instantly. It stood as tall as the cross, and it burned a furious red and blue. It raged and raged, blinding Smallmouth and making him clumsily turn his face away from the heat.
All of the figures panicked, screaming and scattering away toward the church. They didn’t get far. Up from the fiery pit, dozens of long, long, black arms, adorned with six hooking claws emerged and stretched out of the flames and latched on to the legs of those trying to escape. Smallmouth heard crying and wailing from the men as the black, razor clawed-hands of the legion grabbed them and began pulling them back, into the blazes. One by one the red robed people were dragged into the flames, their clothes catching instantly. Smallmouth could see violently shaking bodies in the evil furnace. Oh, the screams. Above the tortured howling, the sound of laughing broke out. Deep, menacing laughter, hundreds of voices, echoed up into the air from the burning hole. Then, in one extinguishing squeeze, the ground swallowed the entirety of the fiery pit, leaving it completely covered in dirt, still and quiet. Soon after, and just like the pit of spears, the old church building caught in an instant and raging fire, quickly toppling the walls and dropping the steeple into its ruins. The smoke towered high in the night sky, which had just began to hint at a pale morning blue. Smallmouth hung on his cross in utter horror and surprise.
As the late evening hours glowed into early morning the smoke eventually tapered off, as Smallmouth’s drugs finally began to wear off as well. The fires of the church did garner long distance attention, though. Just as Smallmouth was able to regain control of his muscles and voice he heard emergency sirens call out into the cold morning air. Not long after, two fire trucks, an ambulance and a sheriffs truck tore into the field and toward Smallmouth on the cross. Not long after Smallmouth could feel the tied ropes being cut loose by firemen, their uniforms easily the best red clothes he had seen all night.
“What on God’s green Earth happened here son?” A bearded man with a dark hat and brown shirt and pants asked Smallmouth once he had been lowered down from the cross and sat on the ground with a shock blanket around his shoulders. The Sheriff, no doubt.
“God’s green Earth. It really is God’s, isn’t it?” Smallmouth whispered, staring out across the cold field. Then, at the very place he was staring, an old, familiar truck came barreling out of the gravel road in the woods and through the field in the steadily growing morning light. It was Uncle Chuck’s truck. It hurried over toward the other emergency vehicles, parked, the driver’s side door burst open, and Uncle Chuck came bounding out over to Smallmouth, his eyes wide and his mouth a wonderfully shocked “O”.
“JEREMY! JEREMY!!!” He basically fell on Smallmouth in a tight, warm hug. Smallmouth was caught off guard by Chuck using his real name.
His Uncle held him for several seconds and then let up, but kept his hands on Smallmouth’s shoulders.
“I thought you were dead.” Both of them said at almost the exact same time.
“I came back and your house was a mess and there was blood everywhere. I thought you were dead.” Smallmouth weakly spat out.
“Well, I woke up and you were gone, son, so I walked to the ranch to get my truck. I was worried bout ya son. I came back home and the whole place had been turned upside down. Blood on the carpet. I just thought the worst. Then I tried my neighbors house. Buddy, they’re dead. Looks like some wacko murder-suicide if I ever saw one. Scott probably tried to come kill us too and wrecked the place when he found it empty. I don’t know. But what I DO know is that you are right here! You are okay Jeremy!! Ahhh Praise Jesus!!”
“It’s not that, Uncle. That isn’t what happened out here. It’s..it was a..a, uh…”
Smallmouth’s fried brain couldn’t even comprehend what he had witnessed over the past few hours. It was all a violent blur.
“Dont worry bout it son, you can tell me everything on the way to the hospital. We gotta go get you checked out and cleaned up. C’mon.” He helped Smallmouth up and they walked over to the ambulance, his Uncle’s arm thrown around his shoulder.
Smallmouth would be sent home later that afternoon. It would take him and his Uncle a long time to sort through the chaos of that deadly night and rebuild their lives. But life kept on. Smallmouth would remain living with his Uncle, and would begin a job working with him down at the ranch. Together they started to attend a local church. Smallmouth never touched a drink or a drug or even a cigarette ever again, and remained steadfast in his newly revitalized faith.
submitted by SamMorrisHorror to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 22:41 MysteriousButton_O Horrible EMS experience

TW some pretty awful transphobia
For context, I'm a transfem who's been taking hrt for nearly a year now, side effect free other than super typical menopausal symptoms when dialing in my dosage. Long story short, I went to bed feeling flu like symptoms and woke up in the middle of the night feeling much much worse. I went to grab a glass of water and collapsed on the floor, unconscious for what I think was a couple minutes. This has never happened before so I crawled to my phone to call 911 and they sent ems on their way.
5 dudes showed up and they were absolutely dicks to me. They refused to call my any pronoun at all when first meeting me, but had no problem using sihe/him after discussing my medical history with and learning that I'm a trans woman. And like, it's a medical emergency situation, I really couldnt care less about pronouns if my life is being saved and I didnt bother correcting them, but it felt so extremely targeted after the shit they did next. They asked to place diodes on my chest for an ekg, and they all went wide eyed when seeing my chest and started snickering and exchanging looks at each other. After my ekg came back clear, they told me that they had no idea what was wrong with me and that I was "probably just tired becasue it's 3am." I said, um no, I passed the fuck out and still feel like I could at any minute and they blamed my "trans medicine" and said "this can happen when you mess with hormones." They also hit me with a "have a nice night, sir" in the way out which was just the cherry on top.
I understand that there's really nothing they can do if test come back clear, but it felt like I was trapped in a nightmare when first responders of all people were trying to gaslight me into thinking that I wasn't feeling what I was feeling, trying to convince me that it was my fault for feeling this way and that the solution was to essentially stop hrt.
I feel so unheard and small and unsafe. Experiencing this gives me pause about calling EMS for myself again in the future, which is a fear that I've never felt before.
submitted by MysteriousButton_O to trans [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 22:13 OrlonDogger A Witch at Midnight - Chapter 16

[First] [Previous] [Next]
When I wake up the next day, my head is swirling with questions. As I get up from my bed and go to clean myself, I can’t help but question everything! Did last night actually happen? I am pretty sure it did, but it all felt so bizarre… and wonderful! There’s a planetarium in the city, and it is magical in the most literal sense of the word! There are books on magic there, too! So I can probably start studying and learning more next time I visit!

Speaking of books… I have something to check there, don’t I?

As soon as I am out of the bathroom I go to the living room to get my pills and then, I start passing the pages of Humiko’s book. As I reach the ‘Epilogue’ section, I confirm to my horror that the words have completely disappeared.

In a panic, fearing the worst, I check my notes… oh, good, those were still here.

What, were you fearing they would simply disappear too? Idiot.

Hey, with magic we really know nothing. It could have happened!

I do feel a little silly but, yeah. For all we know, it could have happened. The point is that it didn’t!

Breathing way easier now, I sit down on one of the couches and sigh. Picking up my phone, I can confirm that it's Friday and it’s already eleven past noon. I guess this time I am justified in sleeping so much? But at the same time, I can’t help but feel a little guilty.

Because you’re being lazy, even with your free time.

With another deep sigh, I try to ignore the voices and just look straight up at the ceiling, tapping my chin for a moment.

How do we proceed from here?

Pelafina said I shouldn’t visit the Elysium early, because it gets full of people. I wonder how true that is… actually, I wonder how true anything she said was.

Since when are you this distrustful?

I don’t know. I don’t even know why I lied to her in the first place, but I just felt that this phrase, the one long complete phrase I managed to translate, is far more important than I know. I can’t share it… I actually don’t want to share anything with this lady?

She will probably send the Cloaks if you stop cooperating though.

That much I know, and I hate it. She has all the control over the situation!

There’s one thing she can’t control though. She has no idea about your internet activity now, does she?

… Good point. I have to focus on that!

I actually have to get back to GalaxyTaco, too! See what he's been doing and all that!

But before all that, breakfast.

Ah, right. Almost forgot… although, wouldn’t it be better to just ask for lunch at this point?

Fair.

Yes! Time for a burger.

They feel blander and blander every time you buy one. Why even bother?

Because they are still delicious, and more importantly, they are cheap and fast!

I quickly order a special Bisontian burger, with extra cheese of course, and then sit back down at the table, connecting my computer to the TER and tapping away a message at GalaxyTaco, to let them know I am up. Then, I write down my discoveries in the file I’m keeping. I’ll transcribe them to the notepad later.

I am adding the symbols (which I’ve learned are called Runes after a visit to the Elysium), meanings and effects I’ve learned. I’ve also learned that I can create Glyphs, which are combinations of Runes to create different effects. I wonder if they are phrases in the language!

Speaking of. They don’t even know it’s a language, they just seem to assume the symbols have effects and that’s it! Maybe they use it, but they haven’t fully grasped the implications yet.

That feels surprisingly shallow though. Just how much knowledge do these people have of magic? Is magic a recent discovery?

Or is there something else keeping people ignorant…?

The burger arrives not too long after I am done writing. I eat it while ruminating on the subject a bit further. They are not idiots, are they? To me, the first thing that comes to my mind when seeing symbols if they are part of a bigger language or something like that. Then again, maybe the lack of translation dissuaded them from experimenting further?

Stuff is not fitting as nicely as I wish…

I am about to write a little more when suddenly, I am added to a group in my messenger service. GalaxyTaco is alive! But not only them! There’s two other people in the conversation too.

Panic ensues, at least for a moment.

“Okay. Just keep calm.” I tell to myself. “Take a deep breath… phew… and let’s do this.”

My fingers are preparing to write some quick and tasteless introduction, when suddenly someone beats me to the punch.

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: HIIIIIII!! ^0^!!

Oh no. A weeb, and a very strong one at that. I can feel her aura, her reiatsu, pushing down on me like a wave of augmented gravity. There are two chances here: I either get along real well with this person, or we hate each other on sight. There’s no middle ground among us.

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: don’t be shy! :3 we’re friends here, I swear!

Well they are being real nice at least. Could be worse, they could be souseiseki.

man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): yo, you there?

Who the hell are these people!? I assume they are friends of GalaxyTaco, right? I really want to be patient but, damn it, new people get me nervous so easily…

xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Hi there, hi! n.nUu sorry, this whole deal took me by surprise.
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: ohhhh it is fine! uwu gal-kun told us everything!
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: you must be so scared Dx I know I was when I got started!
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Well it has certainly been a journey, heheh n.n but I’ve managed.
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: I found the Elysium last night so, at least there’s that!
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): good job, that’s a big advancement actually
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): next you gotta find the clinic, though
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: There’s a clinic too? O.o
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): yep. but we’ll explain all that later
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): i’m canny btw. cannedtea at the forum, remember me?

My face burns a little bit when remembering this guy. I wasn’t expecting to find him again so quickly.

Gay.

Shut up.

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: the name’s Aoi! ^0^/ UwU28 at the forum!
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: sorry I didn’t comment your topic, i am a bit shy xwxUu
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: It’s all fine, no worries n.n I’m Tav! But you two probably know that already
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): it bears repeating, girl. it bears repeating.
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: yeah! ^^/
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: alright I’m back! sorry I was seeing grandma to bed heheh

I sigh in relief, cleaning the sweat off my brow. Thanks saints, this was going to be a little too much for me to handle alone!

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: oh hey gal-kun ~
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: reading up I see you’re all introduced, good good!
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: now I just gotta introduce the plan to you Tav, so pay attention!
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: I’m ready! o.o
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: alright, so
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: to avoid 82’s wrath?
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: canny here will be your voucher.
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: huh?
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: just put him in your profile and he’ll cover for you.
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: And you’re okay with that, Canny? ;w; really!?
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): eyeup, don’t worry girl. I gotchu.
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: canny-kun and mort-sama covered for me when I just got in too :3 he’s the best!

For a moment I blink. Huh? Covered for Aoi? Does that mean they are also a Bastard Mage? What does that mean? Did they just find the link somewhere, too?

Questions for later, I guess.

xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Thank you so much Canny! ;w;
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): no prob bob
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): is it chill if I add you? you seem cool
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Ah, of course! :3 Add away! You too, Aoi-chan.
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: EEEEE! Arigatou!! ^w^ <3 <3
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: oh yeah that reminds me.
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: Aoi, ain’t you forgetting something?
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: ah right!!! Tavy! what are your pronouns? o.o!

What?

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: you put you’d rather not say your gender and that’s so cool! I wanna know what to call you though! uwu
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: if that’s okay of course ^.^
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: Aoi that is NOT what I meant damn it!
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): nono, she’s right.
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): sorry i kept callin you girl
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: not you too canny… focus!

I have never been asked that before… I mean, I have, by computers. But by people, it feels… odd.

I like it.

You’re going to start with your delusions again?

They can identify as anything. Stop being so harsh!

xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: … I think I will go with she/her.
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Is that okay? n.n
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): girl, don’t ask US
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): ask yourself
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): not the mean voice of anxiety, not the shit your guardians told ya
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): are YOU okay with it?

I feel the words pierce my chest for a moment. I gasp for air, my eyes opening a little more.

This is all just play pretend. Don’t take it so much to heart.

Shut up.

What!?

I said shut up. This time, this is for me. I decide this.

You little ungrateful asshole…

I want this. This makes me feel good and I will seize it. And you can go kiss my ass, you hear me!?

...

xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: … Yeah. Yeah, I think I am okay with it n//n
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): atta girl
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): it’s chill to call you a girl right?
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Yeah yeah, I like it! n.n
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: yayayay Tavy-chan! :3
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: huh. that’s unexpectedly wholesome…
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: but let’s focus! Aoi! do you have the book?
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: right here boss! o.o7

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!! has sent you bastard_recipe_book.pdf
Accept?

Huh? A pdf? I hesitate for a moment but, hell, maybe it’s magic and magic can’t get viruses or something. I just click it.

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: this is the rulebook for us Bastards, don’t tell nobody about it though OoO!
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: it’s a seecret~
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: A secret book… now that’s cool uwu
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): man, tav’s first secret
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): granny get the camera
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: lol
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: no but really, read it, study it well
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: it’s all vital.
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: will do! I’ll print it and get to it right now
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: NO!
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: TAVY-CHAN WAIT
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): wait a sec tav
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Huh? O.o
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: don’t print that one!
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: yeah you can’t print magic books, it’s risky
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): the runes can activate and shit would go boom
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Oh, okay o.o
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Man I hate reading on the computer! ;w;
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: sorry tavy-chan ;w;!! but that’s the only way!
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: yeah… anyways, I gotta go to bed, real badly.
GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: I trust you got it from here right?
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Yep! n.n
ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: byeeee everyone!! uwu see you in dejima!
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): see you around

I sigh and slowly lean back on my chair. That was intense, way too intense… but I am smiling. Really, this is some proper progress! I finally have tools to work on my own! Maybe I can even translate some more after learning magic!

Are you sure that’s all you’re happy about?~

… Shut up. Don’t look too deep into the whole ‘pronoun’ thing.

I am opening the file I got when, suddenly, another message hits me.

It’s from Canny!

man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): hey tav
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): if you don’t wanna read it on computer you can get it physical.

Whuh?

man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): you said you found an elysium, was it in a library?
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Yeah! o.o
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): thought so
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): look through the mundane part of the library, specifically in the section where you get cooking recipes
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): see if you can find a cheap notebook that says ‘MAGIC’ in it.
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): open it, say ‘jantar mantar’ to it, and that’s your ticket.

My eyes light up. A secret book, hidden under the cloak’s noses like that? That’s perfect!

man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): the book’s written in draconic, which basically means only mages can read the real shit and you can’t destroy it
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Wait what? O.o Draconic? Are dragons a thing here?
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): not anymore they ain’t
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Aww :c
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Wait,I can’t destroy it? O.o No matter how much I try?
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): i mean, you can, but it won’t do nothin
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): don’t worry about it
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Ok! n.n but hey I don’t know Draconic D:!
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): don’t worry about it girlie
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Yay! n.n I will go get it then
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): get some other books too, in case you’re being tailed.
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): good luck tav
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Thank you Canny!
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Ah! I will be on my phone so don’t send me magic stuff for a while, okay?
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): gonna teach you the glyph for your phone later.
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Yipee!! n.n
xXxCallMeBigCookiexXx: Ah hell, sorry for that úwu
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): you’re fine girl
man don’t you lecture me with your $30 haircut 8): good luck.

I feel motivated, so motivated that I stand up immediately, close my computer, and finish my hamburger on the spot.

Going out again!? Hah.

I am running out of mean things to say, that’s a good sign.

Don’t count on it.

You are doing great. Let’s go! The day’s young and we have notes to take!

Yes! I don’t even notice the door in my way this time! I just go out and hop my way over to the elevator.

To the library! Again!
submitted by OrlonDogger to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 22:04 rat_skeleton Section 117 aftercare + mh care covering

Hello,
I don't really understand all of this, but I'll do my best to explain
I am entitled to s117 aftercare after being detained under s3 of the mental health act. I was discharged in 2019
Over the past few years I've developed what my gp has said may be a phobia involving healthcare + healthcare professionals. I am now at the point where I am only able to communicate with professionals via email. Due to this I've been told I can't have a psychiatric assessment. I need this assessment as my team (a social worker + a bed manager? I'm not sure what that is) have said I have no mental health needs, but I feel very unwell tbh
Is it possible to sue?
I've been in contact with the ombudsman for the past year or two, but I really can't make sense of what they've been telling me. I have a developmental disability that makes understanding + processing information quite challenging. My last email was asking for an extension to my complaint as it was making me very unwell to have to go over it + I needed a break as I can't get healthcare so I can't deteriorate. No reply yet + that was in March. They keep telling me they can't help me? But I thought that was their job to fix it when your complaints don't sort anything
I'm very unwell at the minute. I need care asap. I'm terrified of being detained again, which I fear is how this is all going to end, so I'm doing everything to set care up before it gets to that point but keep being denied
Is it possible to take this to court? Or would I be better going through the ombudsman? If so, please can I be advised on low of charge or free solicitors or people to help me? I have a bit over 8k in savings, but that is for an assistance dog, so it isn't money I have to spend (the dog is 8k)
Sorry I'll also accept other advice
Please be aware I have gone through all avenues to request care, so I'm not interested in being told how to request care. This has been years of begging for my s117 to be covered or just to get mental healthcare in general. I've already deteriorated so far. Due to my specific circumstances where I do have this excessive unreasonable fear of healthcare professionals I can't access emergency services of any kind, so forcing them to cover my care via s117 seems to be my only option?
I don't care to win money bc that would cause me to lose my benefits + it's a system that's very hard to get into, so I don't want to have to live off my winnings only to try to reapply when they run out. I need care. Even if the money is for private care I'd still lose my benefits to win it so either it'd all go to the solicitor or I'd not want to get money at all
I'm also looking into a power of attorney to manage this as a possibility, but I don't understand how that works either + I don't have trusted family members to manage my money. I manage my money at the minute as my family member left me with no money for food when they managed it as they took it all
Thank you very much (:
It is Milton Keynes Council responsible for my care, so whatever board they now fall under?
I've talked to citizens advice but they're not very familiar with s117 so I don't think it is good to contact them again? It's been twice now + I don't know. It could just be that I'm not understanding this all due to my disability. Which is why I'm also looking for a poa bc I don't really understand this. I don't have safe people to manage this for me
submitted by rat_skeleton to LegalAdviceUK [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 22:01 RoBroGaming Here is what I believe the “Canon” Choices are.

“The Order of the Stone” * Let Reuben get a black eye. * Go back to save Lukas. * Help Gabriel. * Convince Lukas to stay. * Choose to seek Magnus, with Axel.
“Assembly Required” * Attack the ghast, with a sword. * Give Axel the amulet. * Go by the name “The Amulet Holder”. * Depart at night.
“The Last Place You Look” * Save Axel and Reuben. * Follow Lukas through the End. * High-five Reuben. * Reveal the secret. * Choose Magnus’s armour.
“A Block and a Hard Place” * Convince Lukas to stay. * Enter the witch hut to take the cake. * Craft a diamond pickaxe. * Keep your old armour. * Convince Gabriel to keep the secret.
“Order Up!” * Let Ivor’s house stand. * Run from the guards. * Save the Founder. * Bring Aiden. * Make Isa and Milo share power.
“A Portal to Mystery“ * Show Sparklez the Flint & Steel. * Accuse Dan. * Help fight off the spiders. * Convince the others about Cassie. * Leave Cassie with Winslow.
“Access Denied” * Make nice with Petra. * Be uncooperative with PAMA. * Unchip Petra. * Use invisibility potion. * Defend Harper.
“A Journey’s End?” * Rescue Ivor. * Agree to work with Em. * Save Nell. * Reject Hadrian’s new deal. * Bring Em back.
“Hero in Residence” * Sneak in to Stella’s treasure room. * Leave Radar in charge of Beacontown. * Tell Petra to be herself. * Chose the arrow tower structure block. * Help Petra.
“Giant Consequences” * Leave Radar to guard the clock. * Tell Petra that adventure is her calling. * Go with Lukas and Radar. * Choose Petra to destroy the clock. * Free Stella.
“Jailhouse Block” * Refuse to work for the Warden. * Refuse to shear Geoff. * Have Stella inside of Romeo’s trust. * Bring Lluna. * Stay behind to help Xara.
“Below the Bedrock” * Don’t accept the scavengers’ deal. * Win the trivia contest. * Promise to always wait for Petra. * Give Xara her bed. * Bring Fred’s people to the surface.
“Above and Beyond” * Tell Jack to be himself. * Destroy Romeo’s statue for Nell. * Try to reason with Romeo. * Bring Romeo. * Stay in Beacontown.
submitted by RoBroGaming to MinecraftStoryMode [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 21:47 greeenie7gh 48 hours sober

Hey all, I wanted to join this community, both for support and to express all my thankfulness for your stories and advice. I didnt join until today, but I am here now. This all kind of started during covid, and slowly spiraled out of control. First just drinking at night every night, then some in the morning before work, then graduated to on my lunch break. I took some breaks, even backed off some, then life got stressful. I was drinking all day, every day. Just wanted to keep a buzz and enjoy that buzz all the time,.
After a while, it turned into a drink every few hours, they like 4-5 before bed, straight from the bottle, hiding it, making excuses to go to town to get liquor, to the point i was going throgh 4-5 bottles of whiskey and rum every week. before I knew it, I was waking up every 2-4 hours with the shakes, having to drink to stave it off, then waking up feeling nauseated and in pain. My wife finally confronted me, and I broke down and admitted that I had a problem.
I went to my GP 2 weeks ago for blood pannel, only to find out my liver values are through the roof, and I opened up to her about my habits and asked for help, she ran my numbers and suggested that I join a support group, and prescribed me a taper form of benzodiazapine. Here I am, 2 days into my taper, and feeling clear headed, the most in YEARS and am about in tears. Very glad that I never hurt anyone or did anything stupid. I never drank and drove, because I always planned aroud events and things with my family and kids, but it was all very selfish. Anyways, long story short, never again. For those wondering why I wont go to AA meetings is because I am atheist, and cannot participate in a group like it, but respect its place. I will likely join a group at my local gp office as they offer it once a week.
thank you everyone here who has been supportive of others and judgement free.
submitted by greeenie7gh to alcoholicsanonymous [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 21:42 alyssacoscino I don’t understand why. I miss her so much. She had so much more life in her.

My cat beautiful calico cat Mocha was 9 years old about to turn 10 in June. She never exhibited any health issues and always was a healthy and happy girl. Within the past week, we noticed she started hiding out of nowhere, then would eat less, drink less, and sleep a lot. She wouldn’t want to move even to go to the litter box. We were concerned and took her to the vet. They checked her out and said she had an upper respiratory infection, basically a cold that should resolve itself in no time with antibiotics which they gave her. 24 hours later and she got worse, not better. She couldn’t even hold herself up and threw up on herself. She was not her usual self at all. My sister took her to the emergency vet, thinking something more serious was going on, but still something that could be healed. Mocha had fluid in her abdomen, and her spleen was enlarged and kidneys inflamed. She was severely anemic and just had so much going on with her. She was in organ failure. I woke up that morning only to be informed that our cuddly baby needed to be put to rest as there was nothing we could do. It was just supposed to be a cold she would get over, yet somehow she was in organ failure at the same time (the vet said the cold was a coincidence and unrelated). She loved treats so much and had a favorite little red bed full of her hair that I will never get rid of. I brought both, and even in her pain and discomfort, she mustered enough energy to move into her bed as soon as she saw that I brought it. She even ate a couple last treats even though she wasn’t eating or drinking anything else. Her condition was so bad that the first vein the doctor tried to insert the IV into was collapsed and he had to use a different one. I held my Mocha baby for the last time as we pet her and talked to her as she fell asleep forever and was relieved of her pain. I couldn’t stop sobbing to the point where I could barely breathe. I don’t know why. The doctors didn’t know why. It happened so suddenly and unexpectedly in a matter of days. She deserved to live at least another 5 years if not more. She was perfectly healthy just a week ago. I’m at least grateful that my baby held out long enough for me to come home from university for the summer before she needed to say goodbye. I can’t help but wonder if it’s somehow my fault. Did she get into something she shouldn’t have? Did we feed her the wrong food? Could we have caught it sooner and done something? Could she have been saved? It all happened so fast and I’ll never understand why her organs shut down out of seemingly nowhere. If anyone has a similar experience feel free to share. I am devastated and heartbroken, but I am glad at least that I am the one left in pain rather than my poor Mocha, who is now at peace. Fly high Mocha, we miss you so much and hope you have all the treats you want, all the water from the tap you want, all the corn husks to chew on, all the spirals and mini paper cups to bat around, all the birds to watch and listen to, and the comfiest beds. Until we meet again baby❤️:(
submitted by alyssacoscino to Petloss [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 21:36 sofasituation Having your back

Does anyone elses SO just not have their back. I have so many little examples where my wife just doesn't back me and always backs the outsider. It all sound so pointless but after a while the pattern is noticed. Most recent, staying in an Airbnb and the place is nice but the electric fly swat is out of juice. I found batteries to replace and they are also out of juice. (This sounds like nothing but I'm getting bitten all night so really want to get the mosquitos before bed) I was pissed off the host would leave 2 dead battery and my wife trys to justify it. All I want is her to back me up. Same holiday we are at self service checkouts in a shop, one comes free and i point to the guys Infront that it's free, they hear me but dismiss me. So I skip them and go to use the machine. My wife stays behind and loudly shouts " these guys are Infront of us". I honestly don't see why she would do that. I tried to get them to go and they brushed me off. These both sound like tiny things but it's always things like this. I don't get it. Why not back your husband. For the record id back her all the way. Is anyone else's SO like this
submitted by sofasituation to Marriage [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 21:25 dontgiveaderp 33 [M4F] Houston, Texas. Hopeless romantic looking for my new favorite person.

I'd like to find someone who captivates me. Someone who I can talk with effortlessly. I want to meet a person who I can include in my daily tasks, and talk with throughout the day. I just want to find someone I can be open with. Platonic conversation or romance. Whatever you are looking for, don't hesitate to message me. I hope to hear from you.
I love a number of things, and hate very little. I'm fairly open to trying new things, but some of the things I enjoy are as follows. I love the outdoors. I've never been camping, but I would like to try it with someone some day. I also love to fish. I mostly fish salt water. I do occasionally fish freshwater though. I like to check out new spots around me, but I mostly fish on the beach. Do you like to fish? What are some of your favorite places to go?
I also enjoy the shooting sports. I primarily target shoot. I take part in a little bit of everything, including rifle, pistol and shotgun. It would be nice to find someone who is into shooting or would like to learn/become more familiar. If you shoot, what do you like to shoot mostly? What's been your favorite gun to shoot so far?
PC games are also a enjoyable pastime for me. I have a variety of games, most of which are on Steam. I have other games on various other stores/services. I enjoy a wide variety of different kind of games, so I'm sure we can find something to play together if you game. What are some of your all time favorite games? What are you currently grinding on that you can't put down? One hobby I discovered later on in life is Magic the Gathering. I play both online on MtG Arena, and with physical cards. Magic has become something I am particularly fond of. Do you play any kind of card/table top games? What's been your favorite so far? If you play Magic, what are some of your favorite deck themes?
Music has always been a part of my life. My tastes are varied, ranging from country, death and black metal, electronic, classic rock, folk, pop punk, and more. Do you have a favorite band? What has been your favorite concert you've been to?
I'm honestly an ambivert. I enjoy doing things outside, as well as spending time indoors. I can veg out all day under the covers curled up in my bed, or I can take a trip somewhere and experience something new. I think my personality is a mix of the best of both worlds. What would the perfect day consist of for you?
As far as my personality is concerned, I would say I am fairly relaxed and laid back. I feel like I am somewhere in the middle between loud and excitable, and shy and quiet. Around people I don't know, I tend to be fairly quiet and to myself. In the company of someone who I am close with, I am more open and free. Do you open right up to people, or does it take a while to become comfortable with someone new?
All I hope for is a connection. It could be platonic, or it could blossom into romance, and commitment. I'm not putting a limit on what I am looking for.
With the prior being said, I am single. I may be interested in changing that with the right person. The idea of commitment excites me. Monogamy is appealing to me. Do you feel satisfied with your social life? What kind of connection are you looking for?
Thank you for taking the time to read my post. I appreciate it. I hope you can identify with something I wrote. If you do, please reach out.
P.S. Please feel free to check my post history, and check out a few pictures of my cat if you would like.
submitted by dontgiveaderp to R4R30Plus [link] [comments]


2024.05.18 21:25 dontgiveaderp 33 [M4F] Houston, Texas. Hopeless romantic looking for my new favorite person.

I'd like to find someone who captivates me. Someone who I can talk with effortlessly. I want to meet a person who I can include in my daily tasks, and talk with throughout the day. I just want to find someone I can be open with. Platonic conversation or romance. Whatever you are looking for, don't hesitate to message me. I hope to hear from you.
I love a number of things, and hate very little. I'm fairly open to trying new things, but some of the things I enjoy are as follows. I love the outdoors. I've never been camping, but I would like to try it with someone some day. I also love to fish. I mostly fish salt water. I do occasionally fish freshwater though. I like to check out new spots around me, but I mostly fish on the beach. Do you like to fish? What are some of your favorite places to go?
I also enjoy the shooting sports. I primarily target shoot. I take part in a little bit of everything, including rifle, pistol and shotgun. It would be nice to find someone who is into shooting or would like to learn/become more familiar. If you shoot, what do you like to shoot mostly? What's been your favorite gun to shoot so far?
PC games are also a enjoyable pastime for me. I have a variety of games, most of which are on Steam. I have other games on various other stores/services. I enjoy a wide variety of different kind of games, so I'm sure we can find something to play together if you game. What are some of your all time favorite games? What are you currently grinding on that you can't put down? One hobby I discovered later on in life is Magic the Gathering. I play both online on MtG Arena, and with physical cards. Magic has become something I am particularly fond of. Do you play any kind of card/table top games? What's been your favorite so far? If you play Magic, what are some of your favorite deck themes?
Music has always been a part of my life. My tastes are varied, ranging from country, death and black metal, electronic, classic rock, folk, pop punk, and more. Do you have a favorite band? What has been your favorite concert you've been to?
I'm honestly an ambivert. I enjoy doing things outside, as well as spending time indoors. I can veg out all day under the covers curled up in my bed, or I can take a trip somewhere and experience something new. I think my personality is a mix of the best of both worlds. What would the perfect day consist of for you?
As far as my personality is concerned, I would say I am fairly relaxed and laid back. I feel like I am somewhere in the middle between loud and excitable, and shy and quiet. Around people I don't know, I tend to be fairly quiet and to myself. In the company of someone who I am close with, I am more open and free. Do you open right up to people, or does it take a while to become comfortable with someone new?
All I hope for is a connection. It could be platonic, or it could blossom into romance, and commitment. I'm not putting a limit on what I am looking for.
With the prior being said, I am single. I may be interested in changing that with the right person. The idea of commitment excites me. Monogamy is appealing to me. Do you feel satisfied with your social life? What kind of connection are you looking for?
Thank you for taking the time to read my post. I appreciate it. I hope you can identify with something I wrote. If you do, please reach out.
P.S. Please feel free to check my post history, and check out a few pictures of my cat if you would like.
submitted by dontgiveaderp to r4r [link] [comments]


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