Wrist tattoo cover up

Fixed Tattoos

2018.03.14 04:43 DarkStarFTW Fixed Tattoos

Pictures of bad tattoos that were fixed very well!
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2008.06.24 03:01 Tattoos

Welcome to the Tattoos subreddit community
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2011.11.26 03:58 lorenlogan Tattoo Designs

Planning your first or your next? Share or request advice, resources, and thoughts on the tattoo design process with other enthusiasts. Post tattoos, tattoo artwork, or inspiration. For first-timers, casual collectors, and full blown fans running out of blank skin! Tattoo apprentices, experienced tattoo artists, and artists who prefer inert canvases are all welcome!
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2023.03.22 23:30 Civil_Preparation934 16M here. it is currently half ten at night in the cold rainy United Kingdom. Does anyone think the same as me?

Does anyone just wanna talk about love? I’d love to hear someone’s love story or talk about love.

As for me I constantly think about my soulmate despite not knowing who she is or where she is.

Here’s my recent posts on here to give you an idea of what I think about:

16M just wanting to share his thoughts at 1am on a cozy Thursday.

So this may be long idk yet. But I would like to state that I know I’m young, I know I should focus on myself and love myself and I know that I probably shouldn’t be posting this on Reddit but I feel like it. The reason I’m saying this is that when I’ve made these kinds of posts before I’ve gotten those kind of comments and while I appreciate them and will take the advice, I would just like to stress that I know.

Okay now on to my hopeless romanticism. This is gonna be fun and sappy and very possibly make me tear up.

I believe that my ideal soulmate is…

Someone I can love as much as I can as long as I can and I can never stop loving them even for a second. Some I can talk about my problems too. Someone I can cuddle at night, someone I can take my jacket off for in the cold of the night (woah song lyric alert). To me, looks don’t matter and though they do matter, having things in common (at least to me) don’t matter as much as everyone says, it’s more about actions and your love and likeness for the person.

I spend a lot of time in my general day (especially at night) thinking about her, whoever she is, wherever she is. Imagining us watching movies together, us designing our house together.

(As for the house, the only real thing I’ve thought about is that I really want a place to clear my thoughts such as a roof if it’s an apartment or a balcony. Think it’d be great for me idk)

Back to her. She kinda represents like a certain warm ness for me. Whenever I think about her I’m calmer and more relaxed and it really helps me sleep sometimes too! I am as you can probably tell, very much in love with love and yes I could go on and on about this.

So I will! A little while longer.

I really am excited to have my first relationship and even if it ends in disaster well I’ll learn. That’s the whole point right? I really enjoy reading my books and writing my books and like I said thinking about her. Even on car rides I look out the window and especially on country sides thinking about her and our house and our kids.

Anyway I’ve rambled enough. If you feel like we can become good friends (check my profile for interests and stuff) or… and I seriously doubt this cause it just seems too fairy taley and kinda impossible but well the possimpible I mean impossible can be made possible. But if you think I could be your soulmate and or a relationship then you can dm me. I am straight as an fyi.

For the people about to comment wow you’re so corny. Please do. I live corny.

Sorry for the absurd length.

Enjoy your days and nights and mornings and evenings.

-

Civil_Preparation934

And this one:

16M back again. Hi guys and gals.

Yes I’m still thinking of her. Yes I have Running Home To You on repeat for an hour which I will reload as sure as the sun will rise. Yes she’s still taking up most of my mind space. Yes I consistently imagine us cuddling and watching movies till she falls asleep so I grab her blanket and cover her in it. And no that was not meant to be weird.

Yes she is the bane of my other thoughts. Yes I don’t know who she is. Yes I don’t know where she is. Yes I couldn’t care less if you think I’m weird. WEIRD IS GOOD PEOPLE!

Yes i imagine us designing our house and me making her breakfast in bed. Yes I imagine proposing to her on a pier in the moonlight for some reason.

Yes I think of my soulmate daily, consistently and unblinkingly unflinchingly I will continue to do so.

Yes the thought calms me and relaxes me and makes me all fuzzy inside.

Yes I am available to talk to if you’d like to discuss such topics or any others I don’t mind. If you, Yes you! Yes you sitting there! Could be my soulmate then message me now or to your convenience. Check my posts for my interests.

Yes I will probably post again and tear up thinking of this as no one I know thinks like this. Again if you do pls dm me or comment.

Yes it’s midnight. Yes I’m young. Yes I’m hopelessly and irretrievably in love with a girl I haven’t even met yet. Because when I meet her she will change my world.

What of it?

Enjoy your night and days. Enjoy your mornings and evenings and good morning or good night.

-

Civil_Preparation934


Hope I can find a great person
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2023.03.22 23:29 Jack_of_Spades How did you first learn of TTRPGs? I'll start with how I got into it and how I thought they were illegal!

I always like hearing about how people got started in this game genre, so I'll start the sharing with mine.
Back in the 90s, I was a wee little nerdy 4th grader. I was on a trip to reno with my family when we went to Carson City to hear about the old silver mines there. In one shop, something caught my eye. A little metal wizard holding a crystal ball. I wanted that wizard in a way I can't explain... in that way when I could feel elecrticity in my bones when I looked at it. I begged for it, it was only seven dollars but my family didn't want to buy something so "pointless". But in the end, I got it. I realized in the car that if you tilted the wizard, it could catch the light and the crystal ball could change color from clear to blue. I loved it, just felt...something when I admired it. And my mom called from the front seat "I don't mind you having that but you'd better not turn into one of those real life wizards!" And I stopped... "There are real wizards? since...when?" She said "Nono, not like that... apparantly there's this game called dungeons and dragons that you play in the sewers with real swords and people died fighting each other. Don't ever play that!"
I nodded because I knew I'd get in trouble if I didn't. But that sound... a game...real swords? Sewers and tunnels and fighting? Yadda yadda people died... but it sounded so cool! I HAD to know more about it!
About six months later, I found myself in a used book store, The Book Tree. And I was browsing the science fiction and fantasy section. And that's when...something caught my eye... this little red bound book called Encyclopedia Magica. And I saw the words "Dungeons and Dragons." I felt my body stiffen and my heart beat. It was a REAL spellbook for that deadly game! I had been asking about it! I asked my grandaprents and they said it was illegal to play. My other grandparents told me it was satanic and summoned devils! And my step grandparents said it was evil and was banned because people were casting real magic with their books, devil magic. AND HERE IT WAS! In a shop! I grabbed it and almost dropped it from how sweaty my hands were.

I flipped throguh it... periapt of health, bottle of everburning smoke, axe of the dwarvish lords. Each one had a description, ingredients that made it, how long, what skills a wizard needed... It read like a text book, an encyclopedia, like it was true! This was...surely a mistake... or maybe I was chosen... I WAS A CHOSEN ONE. i grabbed that book and stuffed it into the middle of a pile of books and brought it to the counter. I had to play it cool. I tried and failed to whistle. Sweat was dripping down my back as things got scanned. Far Side gallery 1, check, goosebumps return of the living money, check, encyclopedia magica check, redwall, check just move it along! YES! It cleared! I had it! it was mine!
I had to hide it from my mom, my stepdad. The red hot cover felt like it was burnign with forbidden eldritch whispers. As we shopped for clothes, it called to me. As we walked throug the supermarkey, i could hear its heart beating in the parked car. And when we got home, I could hear it singing from underneath my mattress, in the dark, waiting for a moment of privacy when I would not be caught.
That night, I laid awake in bed, waiting to hear the sounds of people going to bed. And when I was sure I would not be discovered, I pulled it out and turned on my desk light, hunched over in the shadows with a blanket for warmth. I poured over the pages. The secrets to magic and a hidden secret game of devils and swords.
And I soon learned... it wasn't real... I saw mentions of dice and players and some sort of dungeon master but... it was clear that it was not TRUE magic. Not real but pretend. But still, I read as much as I could... line by line, entry by entry. It was...nigh incomprehensible to make sense of a compendium of magic items without knowing ANYTHING about the rules of the game, but I was hooked... I needed more! And...this wasn't REAL those idiots! Those dolts! Those absolute fools! I laughed to myself in that way only children know to do. How to laugh at foolish adults that aren't as clever as you. I laughed.
The next time I was at The Book Tree, a month later, I went to the person working there. And asked.. "Is this game illegal?" And they laughed, deep, and amused. "So THATS why you were jittery! I thought you were stealing something adult! Noo this is fine! Here, let me show you!" And they led me to the correct section of the store, where the gaming books were kept and which I had never seen before, and it was like a new world opened up to me. I went home with the Players Handbook, the Monstrous Compendium Binder, and a lifelong passion for this new type of game.
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2023.03.22 23:29 Favourite_Banana85 [Emotiv] Ep. 47: The Penthouse

[Emotiv] Ep. 47: The Penthouse

https://preview.redd.it/yzwfnp5v9dpa1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=312cf5fb29c881aeb14fa0bb321e8b3a5c24e6b2
Cover Art First Chapter leave a tip author site
The story so far: Kyla took a job as a Mixologist at Emotiv, a cafe selling emotions in liquid form. Soon, she becomes entangled in a morally grey area of society, singled out by a corrupt warden and thrown into reform. Caught between a government only interested in making coin, and a rebellious group of baristas who work from the shadows to support society's underbelly, who's to say what is right anymore? Perhaps everyone is just looking out for number one. And maybe it's time Kyla does the same...

Episode Forty-Seven: The Penthouse

Amid the destruction of the riot, Sinclair’s tower is a beacon of tranquillity, set aside from the base concerns of the working class. Towering above Central Square, I imagine its residents sipping a glass of sherry at the window and surveying their domain.
We march through the lobby doors as one, a reckless sea of protestors flooding the empty entryway.
A spotless marble floor the size of a small park gleams underfoot, decorated with tiny black diamond tiles inset into the stone at regular intervals. Along one wall, a long mahogany desk stretches in front of a seamless mirror, now abandoned, but I assume usually staffed by a concierge and assistants. Opposite the concierge’s desk, a bank of elevators stands silently on the other wall. The entire building has an air of silence about it.
“This isn’t right,” I mutter. “Where are the guards? Harding wouldn’t hole up without someone protecting him.”
“We’ve got half of them with us,” Frank says with a smirk. “But you’re right. There’ll be more further up, I reckon.”
“Clear the floors!” Ike yells above the murmuring crowd. “Don’t risk the elevators. Sound off!”
The wardens grunt their acceptance, rushing up the stairs with pulse rifles ready to fire. Our volunteer army stands waiting for an order of their own.
Moments later, the wardens send the all clear, and we follow them one floor at a time up the stairwell, so plain that it must be used by workers servicing the tower, rather than the rich VIPs who live here.
With each floor we climb, I focus on Dani—whether they’re alive, safe, or has Harding killed them, like he did Caleb?
Frank lays a hand on my shoulder. “Almost there, Kyla. We’ll get them safe.”
I nod, wrapping my arms tightly around myself as we follow the crowd up to another floor. Soon, the volunteers join the wardens, emboldened by the progress we’re already made. With such a large group swarming into the tower, the few loyal guards who remain are quickly overpowered.
We press on, finding offices, service rooms, staff apartments (some with workers cowering in dark corners, who are quickly comforted and evacuated), and a host of additional areas. But the only apartments are those belonging to Sinclair’s staff. He lives alone, here in this high-rise. According to the concierge, an aging worker in a black uniform with slicked dark hair and grey eyes, he houses his family and staff here, and no one else.
“A whole high rise building for one man and his family…” I grumble, revolted by Sinclair’s self-indulgence—the sheer arrogance of a man hoarding all this luxury, while people live in squalor less than a mile away.
“Sure looks like the emotion trade is booming,” Frank says through gritted teeth.
It takes an hour or more before we clear a path to the penthouse, leaving a trail of stunned wardens and cowering workers in our wake. Volunteers pare off to evacuate and restrain them, ensuring that we can push on with no unfortunate surprises.
The stairwell ends below the penthouse, leaving us in an open atrium with slate covered floors and walls. It’s completely empty, except for the large canvasses hanging on the walls, lit by their own mini spotlights. I don’t recognise any of the paintings or artists, although I’m sure it’s an impressive sight to someone. I couldn’t care less about them right now.
“How do we get up there?” I scan the atrium for another stairwell.
Frank points behind me. “Only one way up.”
A single elevator, wider than those in the lobby, stands in a slate wall, grey upon grey, practically invisible.
“Is it safe?”
Frank snorts. “Nothing we’ve done today has been safe. Why change that now?”
My heart hammers in my chest as we move to the elevator, eyes darting around the atrium, expecting more of Sinclair’s guards to pop out from a shadow at any moment.
Instead, the light above the elevator doors turns on, and a loud ding echoes around the stone-clad chamber.
The elevator doors slide open, and Harding stands calmly inside, with his arms folded and a smug smile on his face. Seeing him makes my stomach turn. The last time I saw him in the flesh, he was drowning under a sea of reform inmates clawing at his face. I almost grin at the thought.
Caleb materialises next to me, his body solidifying from the black smoke of my nightmares. “That sneaky fucker,” he spits. Nobody else pays him any mind.
Because nobody else can see him, I remind myself. He’s not here. He’s dead. He’s said these things before. Days ago, weeks…
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them again and find Caleb gone, I’m relieved… and then, guilty.
“Been waitin’ for you,” Harding says. “Sinclair wants to see you.”
He can’t be serious. I glance at Frank, who nods. “Sounds delightful,” he says darkly, fists tensed at his sides.
Harding grins. “Doesn’t it? Come on up.”
In a dreamlike daze, we walk into the elevator and stand calmly next to the man who killed my brother. Frank stands in the middle, as if shielding me from Harding’s presence. But I can still feel his steely gaze on me, making my skin crawl.
When I look, I see Ike stopping the other wardens while the doors are closing, his eyes full of fear. He gives us one last nod before the doors slide shut.
The elevator lurches into motion.
Harding gives a low whistle and inspects his nails casually. “You guys been causing some big trouble out there today.”
“Less than you deserve,” Frank grunts, staring resolutely at the elevator doors.
I keep my gaze on the floor, breathing slow and deep. I want to scream at Harding, claw at his face, demand to know where Dani is, what he’s done to them, show him he’s not as powerful as he thinks. But Frank gets there first.
“Where are they?”
Harding huffs a low breath, a half-laugh. “You’ll see them soon enough.”
The elevator pings and the doors slide open, revealing a massive apartment. Every surface is monochrome—white walls and black metal, clinical and soulless, almost barren. Compared to my mother’s home, full of the clutter of family life and memories, this place feels like a museum.
Just outside the elevator, the room opens out into a vast living space, surrounded by floor to ceiling windows and empty, except for a low circular sofa set into the floor, with a firepit in the middle.
Sat at one end of the sofa is a portly man, maybe in his late sixties, who must be Sinclair. He wears a grey suit with a waistcoat made of silvery silk, which glows in the firelight from the black metal pit. He grins and stands when we enter, holding his arms out wide. “Welcome, welcome, please have a seat.”
He motions to the sofa, where Lena sits slumped with her head resting back against the cushion. Dani lays across her lap, eyes closed and lips slightly parted.
I rush over, heart in my throat, and crouch over Dani, immediately fearing the worst. “What have you done to them?”
“Oh, do calm down, my girl,” Sinclair scoffs. “They’ve merely had a minor dose of Oblivion.”
Minor?” I spin around, mildly satisfied at the look of shock on Sinclair’s reddened face. I jab a finger in the air towards Harding. “That asshole killed my brother with Oblivion, and you’re acting like they’ve just been given a little nap?”
Sinclair looks genuinely shocked at this. “Killed? I... I don’t understand—”
Harding steps forward. “Sir, if I could intervene. This charming young lady is Kyla Chase. She has been a thorn in Emotiv’s side ever since Frank hired her.”
“What is she talking about, Dennis?” Sinclair frowns at Harding. “Oblivion can’t kill people.”
“It can when you force multiple doses down someone’s throat,” I cut in quickly before Harding can say a word. “When you pin them down and smash one vial after another into their mouth, even though they’re already gone—”
A searing pain slices across my chest and I gasp for breath, almost ready to collapse from the weight of my own words. Gone.
Sinclair continues to frown, his mouth hanging open slightly in disbelief. It would be a stretch to say he cares, but he seems surprised. So Harding has kept this a secret from him, too. Or some of it, at least. I’m not sure whether that thought comforts me or sickens me even more. He didn’t know. None of us knew. None of us wanted to know. Why should he be any different?
Behind me, a small gasp draws my attention. I turn again and see Gemma staring wide-eyed at me with her back to the window. She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly, and it’s like I can read her mind. Not now. Not yet.
---
Next Episode: Thursday 23rd March
---
Sorry for the skipped week, folks! I was pretty ill last week, but on the plus side, the finale is all done! There's a lot of editing and reworking to do before this story will be fit to publish as a complete novel, but over the next few days I'll be posting the last three episodes of Emotiv, and giving it a rest for a while before I rework it for publication!
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2023.03.22 23:28 ihavepolio [US-NC] [H] Mario Red & Blue Switch CIB, Shantae PS5 stuff [W] Paypal

Some stuff up for grabs. Prices are shipped, PP F&F preferred (80+ transactions confirmed on various subs). Thanks for looking

https://imgur.com/a/CnVlBhR

Nintendo Switch Mario 35th Red & Blue Edition - $280

Shantae PS5 stuff - Ordered back in 2021. Fast forward to now I just am no longer am interested in collecting on PS5, so just really trying to break even on the purchase. Priced at retail

submitted by ihavepolio to GameSale [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:27 Michael_Whitehouse I Photographed Something No One Can Explain

I didn't believe in ghosts until I was 36 years old. Even as a kid, I was always the one to point out when my friends were being overly superstitious. Scary stories and supposed encounters just made me laugh. How could people be so easily duped or persuaded?
I guess now you can add me to the list.
It was five years ago. I was doing some volunteer work in the Highlands of Scotland, near a place called Skail. It's pretty remote as places go. There are a few trails there that are occasionally frequented by hikers and people exploring. It's a strange place of quiet. I can't quite do it justice with words. Like much of Scotland, it's home to an almost constant low wind that can unnerve visitors, if you're not used to it.
As I said, I was doing some volunteer work. An agreement had been made between the local authority and a charity to begin repopulating parts of the area with trees. Thousands of years ago, Scotland was home to vast forests, and while pockets of those still exist to this day, most of the landscape is exposed to the wind coming off of the surrounding seas. Some desire for Scotland to be reforested, and I guess I'm one of those someones.
The charity I was volunteering with, Ancient Forestry, had asked me to do some promotional groundwork before plantation began in that area. I had some holiday time due to me and disappearing for a day into the wilderness sounded ideal. All I had to do was follow the River Naver, which weaved past Skail, and then find the plot that had been marked off for plantation with some luminous ranging poles and other markings. Then, take a few photographs, pitch my tent, and drink underneath a blanket of stars. Home the next day.
It took me thirty minutes or so hiking from the nearest trail to find the river and then I followed it. My point of contact at Ancient Forestry was an admin volunteer named Janet. She had told me that the river would bend left and right a number of times, at which point I should look out for a small island in the middle of it comprised of a couple of trees and some grey rocks. Once I saw that I would be nearly there.
Two damn hours of marching through sodden grass and gorse passed before I finally saw that island of rock. I must have been about fifty feet or so from it when I realised the island wasn't exactly as had been described. It was even smaller than I had thought, and it must have only been about ten or fifteen feet wide. Only one tree stood on it, with a few large boulders competing with it for space. None of that caught my eye. What did was the thing swinging from one of the tree branches.
I moved closer along the riverbank, but I was kind of thankful that there was no way for me to access the island on the river. When I reached the edge of the water, I was on a patch surrounded by large green reeds almost the same size as me. They hid me to a degree, and again, I was thankful for that. Because I felt the need to be hidden.
A long rope dangled from the solitary tree on the island, swaying in the cold Scottish wind that any hiker in these parts will tell you about. Attached to the rope was what looked like a large brown sack. Just to the side of this was the figure of a man. He had been hidden from view by one of the boulders until I got closer. His head was bowed, long black hair reaching his shoulders and partially covering his face. In his hand were some pieces of grass reed, I think. He was braiding them together like you would with long hair. Weaving something out of them.
I'd hiked extensively throughout Scotland and met many people on the way. I always said hello when passing. It's kind of an unwritten rule in this part of the world. Meeting a stranger out in the countryside isn't something to fear, it's sometimes an opportunity to strike up a conversation. I think that's why so many people enjoy meeting others at the bothies strewn throughout Scotland.
But this time, I didn't open my mouth. The man hadn't looked up, so I assumed he hadn't seen me. He was too busy making something out of the grass reeds. I didn't want to talk with him. There was something about him that made me fearful. A kind of dread that made me aware more than ever of how vulnerable you truly are when hiking alone.
The sack creaked back and forward next to the man, dangling a few feet above the ground from the solitary tree. It reminded me of one of those old hypnotic tricks magicians and hypnotists used to use with a pocket watch. Back and forward, back and forward. But then, its repetitive motion altered slightly. Something moved inside of the sack. At first, it was a gentle movement, like an animal waking up. Then, it began to thrash around. And those horrible screams... The thing was in pain.
I don't think I'll ever forget that sound.
I wasn't sure what was happening. Perhaps it was an animal he'd caught. But no matter how horrendous the screams got, the man ignored them. He continued to braid the grass reeds in his hands, adding longer pieces from a small pile next to him on a rock.
I'm ashamed to say that I didn't step in to tell him he was being cruel to the animal. There was no way for me to get to the island without entering the river, and the last thing I wanted was to get into an altercation with a local out there in the middle of nowhere. For some reason, I had in my head the image of a knife in the man's hand... He may have cut the reeds with something when gathering them. I felt sure that he was carrying a blade, and so that was another reason to leave the strange scene alone.
Retreating from the reeds, I moved off quietly. The screaming sound didn't diminish like I thought it would, fading away as I put distance between myself and whatever was in the sack. Instead, the scream stopped suddenly, as though it had been silenced. I didn't look back.
It took about another hour's hike before I saw the ranging poles and some bright orange tape that had been tied to the occasional still-standing tree. This was undoubtedly the spot that Ancient Forestry intended for a new pocket of woodland. It would take 10 years before the new trees planted there would properly take root, and probably another ten before it would look anything like a forest. Patience was key. I guess I wanted future generations to be able to enjoy larger forests across Scotland, but there was an element of selfishness. If God spared me, I would have liked to return there in three decades or so to see it in all its glory.
While there were occasional trees and bushes, most of the ground was covered in thick grass and uneven soil. I was surprised by how close to the River Naver the site was. As I tried my best to turn the stark landscape into a few promotional stills for the charity, my back was to the river. I remember that much at least.
I must have zoned out for a while, the gentle flowing of the river becoming like a relaxing white noise. I do that when I'm taking photographs, snapping away to my heart's content. Once I started getting a feel for the place, I felt more confident that I'd at least have a few shots worthy of a leaflet or press release for the charity.
I remember trying to take a low-angle shot of one empty patch of ground. In the distance, the tops of a mountain range peeked over a ridge. I lay on the ground in a prone position, looking through the viewfinder. I could feel the wet and cold from the moist grass, but it was worth it for the shot.
Clicking on the shutter button, the sound of my camera snapping a photo was quickly joined by something from behind me. It sounded like an animal moving around in the reeds by the river. I would have ignored it, but I was already on edge from encountering the man and the hanging sack. The rustling sound didn't stop, and with my concentration broken, I stood up and turned around.
All I could see was the river a few feet away from me, lined by reeds at least four or five feet tall. They moved in that neverending breeze that lulled and grew over and over. At least, I thought it must have been the wind, but as I was about to turn and take another photograph, I saw a few reeds directly in front of me, parting. Something was crawling through them towards me.
Scotland is not a place where we fear animals, there are very few that can pose any danger. No bears, no wolves either, despite the rumours. The weather is probably the greatest danger you'll face if you're hiking around. But although I knew there could be no large predatory animal in the reeds, I still felt frightened.
I stood for at least a minute. The reeds slowly parted a line at a time, and I could see by the way they were moving that whatever it was, it was getting closer and nearly visible. I lifted my camera to take a picture. Photographer's instinct, I guess.
I must have snapped two pictures by the time I truly comprehended what was poking out from between the reeds and moving towards me. Then came that horrible scream. The same blood-curdling noise that had come from the sack hanging from the tree. I'm not certain that it came from the thing on the ground, but it was there, and all I can remember was the face. Its human-like features, staring at me. I couldn't bear to look at those eyes. The thing in the reeds lurched forward, and I saw a tinge of white flesh.
I think I lost it then. The next three hours were a blur. I barely rested, marching, running exhausted over the uneven terrain. At least I was with it enough to stick to the river. Had I ran off in another direction, I could easily have gotten lost, and with no phone reception, who knows what would have happened to me or what might have found me.
When the island in the middle of the River Naver appeared once more, I felt the pit of my stomach open up like a wound. The cool breeze moved across the water, rippling it slightly, catching the reeds as the sun began to set. I didn't stop. I kept going. And as I passed the island, I only had to give it a cursory glance to know what was there. The rope still dangled from the branches of that lonely tree, moving forward and back in the breeze, creaking slowly. The sack was gone, and in its place was the outline of a man. How long he had been hanging there from his neck, I don't know. In the dimming light, I was certain that it was the same man who I had seen earlier, and I was under no illusion by that point that he was anything other than dead.
As his body swayed back and forth, I covered my ears like a child, trying to smother the sound of the creaking rope. I think I was like that until I finally hit a trail sometime later. I found my car and drove about a mile or so down a dirt track until I reached a proper road. It was there that my phone reception kicked in, maybe my sanity, too.
One phone call and forty minutes later, a police constable was there from the nearest village. I was so happy to see another human being. One that was alive, at least.
When I told him what had happened, the constable did the strangest thing. He told me he didn't need to check the island on the river because he had been called to that same spot no less than six times over the previous fifteen years. He knew that he would find nothing.
I won't bore you with the details of the constable accompanying me to a small pub or the locals who were so very kind to put me up for the night, refusing to let me drive in such an anxious state.
But I will tell you what they told me.
In the 1940s, a man named Daniel Campbell was waiting up one night for his wife to give birth at their farmhouse. The local doctor and a midwife attended. It was a terrible labour, but eventually, the baby was delivered. Details were hazy, but no one else ever saw the baby, and when the doctor and midwife were ever asked about the child, the colour drained from their faces. In fact, the doctor himself seemed to develop a drinking problem after that night.
No one is certain what happened, but two years later, Daniel's wife, Ellen, was dead, found strangled in her bed. Daniel Campbell and the child were missing. Weeks passed until a local poacher discovered the horrific scene that would become a legend in those parts for decades to come.
On that little island on the River Naver, Daniel Campbell's body was found hanging from the tree. He had fashioned a rope from the reeds of the river. At his feet was an old worn sack. It was covered in blood, but empty. A knife lay beside it, and on the surrounding rocks, were large splatters of red that could only mean that the child was dead.
I'm not sure exactly what I saw that day by the river. Whether it was a ghost or something else I can't fathom. What I can say with confidence, is that whatever people think of this story, I do have two photographs to show that there was something there. They are blurred and uncertain, but when I look at them I am reminded of what I saw crawling out of the reeds towards me. It was large, on all fours, and it wore a baby's face.
submitted by Michael_Whitehouse to nosleep [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:27 Apprehensive_Form884 Doing my best but he won’t come in the house.

Doing my best but he won’t come in the house.
No he won’t come in the house. We caught him last summer and tried to keep him in the house for six weeks Took him to the vet paid over $700 to get all his vaccines and flea treatment. Every night he terrorized the house then he finally started peeing in the house. He got back outside we didn’t see him for almost a week But came back to be on our stoop. We feed him multiple times a day make sure he has freshwater and invite him in every day. He is loved. We change his bedding he has a cat house but prefers being on a cat bed so we cover them up when it’s cold with a wool blanket. At first I thought he was just pulling out some mats on his back and that he had Some irritated skin under the mat. My husband said he saw a flea just one. I spent 15 minutes checking him for fleas. I know what fleas look like my cat had them when I was a kid multiple times. I could not find a flea on him but my husband says he saw a flea again. So my question is what’s the least expensive safe liquid cat flea and tick med that I can give him. I can’t afford to take him back to the vet hopefully it’s something I can get at Petsmart Chewie or Amazon. I have two indoor cats that are rescues that were feral they love him too but I’m now worried that when we bring the bedding in and change it the fleas will spread to them. yes we wash the bedding. it hurts my heart please be kind. It took us three years of feeding him to get him to let us touch him. That was how we caught him last summer and brought him to the vet he trusted us he still trust us but he will not live in the house. his choice not ours.
https://preview.redd.it/x886hji49dpa1.jpg?width=2448&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=549da0c26c67dad48626aa0ce16fb68e4104f637
submitted by Apprehensive_Form884 to nowmycat [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:26 freebeer69247 [WTS] Raptor SL x2

the goods
2 black Raptor SL's up for grabs. $70 each, shipped. One has about 100rds on it and the other has less. You can see a little salt on the one and not so much on the other. Dibs applies. Please comment first and then message. Venmo preferred. Can do PayPal FF or G&S if you cover the fee
submitted by freebeer69247 to GunAccessoriesForSale [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:25 pyadav How to Authenticate a CLI Using OAuth and GitHub in Golang

Hey, Gophers!
Are you looking to access user data without compromising credentials? OAuth 2.0 is a secure and convenient way to authenticate command-line applications using GitHub. This informative guide provides step-by-step instructions on how to authenticate a CLI using OAuth and GitHub in Golang.
The guide covers setting up GitHub, using the golang.org/x/oauth2 package, and handling OAuth authentication. The code snippets are easy to follow and can be modified to fit your project's needs.
Overall, this guide is a great resource for developers who want to learn how to use OAuth 2.0 to authenticate their CLI using GitHub. Check it out on my GitHub repository and let me know what you think!
Link to the blog post: https://www.iamyadav.com/blogs/how-to-authenticate-cli-using-oauth
Github repo: https://github.com/pyadav/how-to-authenticate-cli-using-oauth
I hope you find it helpful! Let me know if you have any questions or feedback.
Happy coding!
submitted by pyadav to golang [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:25 JubileeSupreme My appeal for denial of claim was approved, but I already paid it.

I didn't want the outstanding bill to screw up my credit rating so I paid it last week. A week later I got the approval. They said will cover an out of network provider as an in network. How does this work? Do I ask the provider for my money back or the insurance company to pay me directly?
submitted by JubileeSupreme to HealthInsurance [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:24 VeterinarianOk5785 [WTS] Sig Romeo 5, FAB Defense Ultimag 10round magazine AR15, FAB Defense Polymer Flip Ups.

Looking to sell a very lightly used Sig Sauer Romeo 5 includes both mounts, lens cover, mount tool and box. $100 🚢
2 x FAB Defense 10rd Ultimag for AR15s (5.56, .223) $15 for one or $25 for both 🚢
FAB Defense Polymer Flip Ups Front and Rear. Great flip ups 8/10 do to light wear. $40🚢 for the pair
Buy the whole lot for $145 🚢 Buy the FAB Defense stuff together for $60 🚢
https://imgur.com/a/5OGcMko
Comment then PM. Please buy my stuff so I can get an Aimpoint T2 🙏🏼
Dibs rules all.
submitted by VeterinarianOk5785 to GunAccessoriesForSale [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:23 NuzlockeMaster Respect Boros (One-Punch Man [Manga])

Respect Boros

I am Boros -- Dominator of the Universe!
Databook Entry
Boros, also called Lord Boros by his subordinates, was the leader of the Dark Matter Thieves, a group of alien invaders responsible for the destruction of A-City. Like Saitama, Boros faced a self-imposed existential crisis, having become so powerful that no battle thrilled him. His intergalactic travels in search of a worthy opponent led him to Earth, where he was killed by Saitama.
Boros is the main antagonist of the Alien Conquerors Arc, all feats will be marked with the chapter number.

Notes

Boros has various forms that he uses to fight against Saitama, they will be marked as such:
Saitama RT for scaling

Physicals

Strength
Speed
Durability/Regeneration

Energy Manipulation

Energy Projection
Misc

Giant Spaceship

Databook Entry
The Giant Spaceship was the headquarters and mode of transportation of the Dark Matter Thieves. The ship was large enough to cover a vast majority of a city.
General
Durability
submitted by NuzlockeMaster to respectthreads [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:23 eviefrye89 Small rant from a store manager.

I'm a general manager of a chain gas station/convenience store on top of being a caregiver for my husband who's paralyzed. I don't have much power in the grand scheme of things, I can't give raises or make any type of big changes but I try my best to make my store a decent place to work. Corporate definitely doesn't pay enough but I can't change that either. I don't require doctors notes, I don't care if someone checks their phone or scrolls for a minute if we're not busy, I don't write people up for being late or make them try to cover their own shift if they call in, and I don't ask for details as to why someone is calling off. And now I'm getting shit from some of them (mainly my assistant managers) for being TOO lenient and not punishing people by giving out writes ups. These are people who started as cashier's and I gave them promotions, it does require a little more responsibility but the pay is quite a bit better than the starting rate for a cashier and they still get paid hourly so they get overtime pay too (which I don't, cus Salary). It's so frustrating to be seen as pushover because I treat my employees with decency and respect and don't go around throwing out petty punishments because someone had an attitude one day or shows up late frequently.
submitted by eviefrye89 to antiwork [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:23 bokyo1987 [WTS] Streamlight Protac HLX with Picatinny Mount, Pressure Pad

Up for sale is a new Streamlight Protac HLX. It’s in excellent condition, only taken out of the packaging for pictures. This is the 1,000 lumen (27,600 candela) variant which comes with the following: picatinny mount, push button tail cap, pressure pad, pad mounting accessories, batteries, instructions, and sticker.
$98 PayPal FF, folks with 20+ flair can use PayPal GS provided buyer covers fees.
https://imgur.com/a/Nfo6BPS
submitted by bokyo1987 to GunAccessoriesForSale [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:23 Undead_Mako Dragon tattoo (done about 5 years ago) needs a touch up and a fix up. I want to keep the general design as it was a matching tattoo and I love the og idea, just not the artists execution of it. Any ideas on how to fix it up so it looks better would be appreciated.

Dragon tattoo (done about 5 years ago) needs a touch up and a fix up. I want to keep the general design as it was a matching tattoo and I love the og idea, just not the artists execution of it. Any ideas on how to fix it up so it looks better would be appreciated. submitted by Undead_Mako to tattooadvice [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:22 aime10123 Seller accepted our offer then backed out 1 day later

Seller accepted our offer yesterday and then asked for a “Subject to seller finding suitable housing” clause to be added into our offer. We added the clause and signed it this morning then we immediately get a call from our realtor saying the seller wants to back out of the deal.
Apparently something happened in the family and they need more time so they’d rather try selling a month later. I call bullshit. We’ve made it clear that we’d be willing to delay the close after all, we signed a friggin suitable housing clause. One month is nothing for us.
Before this deal happened, my realtor pressed them for the offer deadline and they said “No Deadline”. They must have thought that would yield a lot of offers. That did not happen as they only got 3 offers. To give you context every other house we’ve bid on since starting our search has had 10+ offers. One had 30+. I think either one of two things happened:
  1. They realized their “No Deadline” strategy backfired and they’d rather try again in a month and made up that shit about something happening in the family. After all, why not just extend the closing date by a month?
  2. Somebody called in with a better offer after they had accepted ours so they wanted to weasel their way out of our offer to accept the better one. Oh and they made up that shit about something happening in the family.
Scumbag behavior but we can’t do anything about it. I asked my realtor if there was anything we could do. She said even though we were to strong arm them into taking our offer back because we signed the suitable housing clause they would have found a way out at some point or make the deal so cumbersome for us that we wouldn’t even want the house anymore. Good to know, because now we won’t be doing any “suitable housing” clauses in the future.
As if an insane sellers market wasn’t enough where the sellers have all the leverage, some people still want to be greedy dishonest scumbags. We offered way over asking, waived inspection, and offered to cover any potential appraisal gap. This is deflating.
submitted by aime10123 to RealEstate [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:21 enough0729 Mental health service help

I have physical disabilities and I can’t work. I don’t work or I’m not a student. I need to see a psychiatrist and therapist but insurance I have doesn’t cover mental health services. Also other insurance here is way too expensive and doesn’t cover a lot of things. What do I do? Just give up?
submitted by enough0729 to laramie [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:21 WwwwilltheFarmer Does anyone else do this?

Does anyone else do this? I have a habit of often covering my mouth with my hand when I talk. I don't even realize I'm doing it half the time. If I'm leaning on a table or desk it looks more natural because I can rest my face on my cupped hand. I think I just like to hide the way my mouth contorts/tenses up while I'm talking, but it probably makes me more muffled and hard to understand.
submitted by WwwwilltheFarmer to Stutter [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:21 veliathan11 Did top of the pops make kurt cover his the sticker on the vandalism strat?

Was just watching the top of the pops slts performance for funsies and noticed kurt has the sticker on the vandalism strat covered up. Was wondering if we know if that was just kurts normal shenanigans or if the bbc had him do that due to the “controversial” nature of the sticker
submitted by veliathan11 to Nirvana [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:19 UDHRP Going to ask my GP for testosterone tomorrow.

I'm terrified.
I think I've done as much as I can in advance. I'm 18, so no age issues. I'm going to wear my masc clothes with a masc haircut. I have been talking with my therapist for a long time about this, so that should cover a therapy note requirement, should that come up. I've come out to my friends and close family. I've tried to make my body look a little more masculine with shoe lifts and exercise.
I don't know what more she could want from me. My heart's racing and it's not even the day of the appointment!
submitted by UDHRP to trans [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:16 EjmMissouri Inside the Sanctuary – It’s All About Jesus

The Golden Candlestick

Jesus the Light of the World

Exodus 25:31, 37 You shall also make a lampstand of pure gold; the lampstand shall be of hammered work. Its shaft, its branches, its bowls, its ornamental knobs, and flowers shall be of one piece. … You shall make seven lamps for it, and they shall arrange its lamps so that they give light in front of it.
As you entered the sanctuary, on the south side to your left would be a seven branched candlestick made entirely of a single piece of solid gold. The apostle John was granted a vision of heaven where he saw the reality of which the golden candlestick was but a shadow. In vision John saw Jesus walking among seven candlesticks.
Revelation 1:12-13 Then I turned to see the voice that spoke with me. And having turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the seven lampstands One like the Son of Man, clothed with a garment down to the feet and girded about the chest with a golden band.
Jesus explains to John the meaning of what he saw.
Revelation 1:20 The mystery of the seven stars which you saw in My right hand, and the seven golden lampstands: The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands which you saw are the seven churches.
The number seven in the Bible denotes a complete number. The earthly candlestick and its seven branches, each holding a lamp, represented God’s church on earth. The church of Christ is the lamp stand which in this world lifts up Jesus, who is the Lamp, the Light, of this world. Individually, the Christian, to the extent that the life of Jesus shines through him, is also a light to the world – but always the light is the light of Jesus.
John 8:12 Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.
The lamps in the earthly sanctuary were to burn continually. So the Christian is to always let the Spirit of God rule in his life, thus becoming living lamps through which the light of God shines forth in this dark world.
Only the High Priest could perform the sacred work of lighting the lamps in the earthly sanctuary. He trimmed the wicks and lighted the lamps every morning and evening. And so, none other than Jesus, our High Priest, can trim our lamps. In the morning we need His Spirit to direct us during the day. In the evening we need His Spirit to enlighten our minds as we review the work of the day. Only Jesus can trim away the faults and flaws of our lives. The trimming of the lamps is a type of the daily lessons we must learn from Jesus our High Priest.
In and of ourselves we have no light, and whatever light we may think we have in ourselves, if it is not of Jesus it is in reality deepest darkness.

The Table of Showbread

Jesus the Bread of Life

Exodus 25:23-25, 30 You shall also make a table of acacia wood; two cubits shall be its length, a cubit its width, and a cubit and a half its height. And you shall overlay it with pure gold, and make a molding of gold all around. You shall make for it a frame of a handbreadth all around, and you shall make a gold molding for the frame all around. … And you shall set the showbread on the table before Me always.
As you entered the sanctuary the table of showbread would have been to your right, on the north side of the sanctuary. On the Sabbath day the Levites made twelve loaves or cakes of unleavened bread. These cakes were placed on the table hot each Sabbath day, and arranged in two rows or piles – six to a row, with pure frankincense on each row.
These twelve loaves would lay on the table for the entire week, only being removed when twelve fresh loaves replaced them on the table the following Sabbath. These loaves are called “the bread of the presence.” Once the old loaves were removed, they were then eaten by the priests. All the service with the table of showbread was done on the Sabbath. The bread was prepared on the Sabbath and placed hot on the table on the Sabbath. The following Sabbath it was removed and eaten by the priest on that Sabbath.
The Priests, the Bible tells us, served “unto the example and shadow of heavenly things;” therefore there is a heavenly lesson for us in the showbread.
The showbread was a continual offering before the Lord. It taught that man was wholly dependent upon God for both natural and spiritual food.
This, like all other types of the sanctuary service, met its fulfillment in Jesus. Jesus is the true bread of presence. Jesus said, “I am the living bread which came down from heaven; if any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever; and the bread that I will give is My flesh.” Jesus went on to say, “Except you eat the flesh of the Son of man … you have no life in you.” To explain Himself, Jesus goes on to say;
John 6:51-53, 63 It is the spirit that quickened; the flesh profited nothing: the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life.” The Word of God, the Holy Bible is the true bread of which we are to eat.
As the bread of the presence of God was taken from the sanctuary and distributed to the priests to be eaten, so Jesus said;
John 14:24 The word which you hear is not Mine, but the Father’s which sent me.
The Word of God, the Bible came direct from God. God gave it to Jesus. Jesus signified it by His angels unto the prophets, and the prophets gave it to the people. (Revelation 1:1).
We must feed on the Word of God. And there is no more appropriate time to let God speak to us through His word than on the Sabbath day, when we lay aside all worldly cares and business, and take the time to read and study and pray upon His Holy Word until we hear God speak to us through it.
The priests were not only to set the hot bread on the table on the Sabbath day, but later that same bread by being eaten was to become a part of their very being. Even so, we need to eat of the Word of God until it becomes a part of our very being. Here is the secret of true Christian living. Eternal life does not come to us through forms and ceremonies. They are alright in their place. But eternal life results from feeding upon the Bread of Life, the true bread that comes from Heaven.

The Altar of Incense

Jesus our Righteousness

Exodus 30:1-3, 6 You shall make an altar to burn incense on; you shall make it of acacia wood. A cubit shall be its length and a cubit its width-it shall be square-and two cubits shall be its height. Its horns shall be of one piece with it. And you shall overlay its top, its sides all around, and its horns with pure gold; and you shall make for it a molding of gold all around. … And you shall put it before the veil that is before the ark of the Testimony, before the mercy seat that is over the Testimony, where I will meet with you.
As you entered the sanctuary you would have seen the Altar of Incense on the far end of that first chamber of the sanctuary, sitting directly in front of the veil that divided the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place where the Ark of the Covenant sat.
The incense burned on the Altar was composed of an equal weight of four fragrant gums and resins and was to be used only by the priest on this Altar. It was very sacred and anyone who made for their own use anything like it was to be cut off from among the people.
The High priest alone was to perform the sacred duty of placing the incense before the Lord on the Altar of Incense.
This Altar and the incense burned upon it were designed to be a type of the work that Jesus, our great High Priest is performing for us. The apostle John in vision saw the heavenly reality of which the earthly service was a type. John in vision witnessed the incense being offered burned on the heavenly Altar.
Revelation 8:3-4 Then another angel, having a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense, that he should offer it with the prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, with the prayers of the saints, ascended before God from the angel’s hand.
John saw the incense being mingled with the prayers of the saints. He saw those prayers, after the incense was added, ascend up before God, and they were accepted because they were made fragrant with the incense. Here we see the work of the Holy Spirit, taking the weak and feeble prayers of sinful men, and presenting them perfect before a Holy God.
Romans 8:26-27 Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. Now He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He makes intercession for the saints according to the will of God.
The Holy Spirit takes our faulty prayers and presents them perfect before the Father mingled with the sweet incense of Christ’s perfect righteousness.
When Jesus was preparing His disciples for when He would ascend to heaven, Jesus assured them, “Whatsover you shall ask the Father in My name, He will give it you.” (John 16:23).
The power in a name is in the character of the individual that bears the name. The name of Jesus is honored in Heaven, and every prayer presented in that name is granted in heaven because Jesus’ perfect life is the incense that is presented before the Father with our prayers. Jesus lived a sinless life. He “knew no sin.” The prince of this world, the devil, had nothing in Jesus, for He was pure and holy, without one stain of sin. It is Christ’s perfect righteousness that makes our prayers accepted before the Father.
John saw the smoke of the incense with the prayers of the saints ascend up before God. Our prayers, made fragrant by the righteousness of Christ our Savior, are presented by the Holy Spirit to the Father. The weakest saint who knows how to press before the Throne of Grace in the name of Jesus, the sinless One, has all the resources of heaven at his command.
The name of Jesus is often added to prayers in a meaningless way. Many prayers are spoken for a mere form of worship and go no higher than the ceiling – but every prayer of faith reaches the ear of God, and that prayer is presented perfect in Christ’s righteousness before the Father by the Holy Spirit.
David understood what was typified by the incense and prayed;
Psalm 141:2 Let my prayer be set forth before Thee as incense; and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice.
There was no part of the daily ministration in the earthly service that brought the priest so directly into the presence of God as the offering of the incense. There above the veil, before which the Altar of Incense stood, could be seen the glow of the Shekinah Glory, the literal visible presence of God, that rested above the mercy seat in the Holy of Holies. Likewise, there is no part of our religious service that brings us so close to God as the pouring out of our hearts in earnest prayer.
In the heavenly sanctuary Jesus, our High Priest has an inexhaustible supply of righteousness. In the type, the incense was always ascending, typifying that at any time, day or night, when a struggling soul cries out for help, or give thanks and praise, his prayer is heard.
In the typical work, the one who attempted to use this incense for their own use was cut off for among the people of God. There was to be no imitation of the incense. No fire was to be used for burning the incense except that taken from the altar before the Lord. Nadab and Abihu, while drunk, offered “strange fire” before the Lord, and were slain. (Leviticus 10:1-10).
Their fate is an object lesson of all who fail to appreciate the perfect righteousness of Jesus, and who appear before the Lord in the “filthy rags” of their own righteousness. (Isaiah 64:6).
The horns of the Altar of Incense were often touched with the blood of the sin offering, thus typifying that it is Christ’ death that made it possible for our prayers to be answered and for us to be clothed in His righteousness.
The fragrance of the incense was carried by the wind to all the surrounding area. In a like manner, when a Christian is clothed in Christ’s righteousness, an influence will go out from him to all those around him. A savor of life and light to all who are in darkness.

The Ark of the Covenant

Jesus our Advocate

After God instructed Moses to build a sanctuary, the very first instruction the Lord gave was:
Exodus 25:10-1 And they shall make an ark of acacia wood; two and a half cubits shall be its length, a cubit and a half its width, and a cubit and a half its height. And you shall overlay it with pure gold, inside and out you shall overlay it, and shall make on it a molding of gold all around.
The cover of the ark was called the mercy seat and was made of a single piece of pure gold. On either end of the mercy seat, and of one piece with it, were cherubim with their wings stretched out covering the ark.
Exodus 25:17-18 You shall make a mercy seat of pure gold; two and a half cubits shall be its length and a cubit and a half its width. And you shall make two cherubim of gold; of hammered work you shall make them at the two ends of the mercy seat.
It is what was to be placed inside the ark that made the ark the most important item in the sanctuary. There, inside the Ark were the Ten Commandments which God Himself had engraved on stone.
Exodus 25: 21-22 You shall put the mercy seat on top of the ark, and in the ark you shall put the Testimony that I will give you. And there I will meet with you, and I will speak with you from above the mercy seat, from between the two cherubim which are on the ark of the Testimony, about everything which I will give you in commandment to the children of Israel.
The Lord Himself covered the law that man had broken with a mercy seat, and above the mercy seat shown the Shekinah Glory, the literal visible presence of God on earth.
The mercy seat, with the Shekinah Glory, the visible representation of God’s presence, and its covering cherubim, is the figure, or “shadow” of the Judgment seat, the throne of God. Here, God’s perfect mercy and perfect justice meet in perfect harmony.
The Bible tells us that the wages of sin is death. The law demands the death of the sinner. And as the law is as holy as the God who gave them, (for every transgression of the law is a transgression against who gave them), only one equal with God could meet the demands of the law on man’s behalf. In the typical service the blood of a sacrifice was sprinkled above the mercy seat which covered the broken law. This was representative of the blood of Christ which would free every repentant sinner from the demands of the law. Jesus Himself having met the full demands of the law on man’s behalf.
However, the mercy seat is more than just a representation of the judgment throne, it is also representative, as its name implies, of the throne of grace. Look again at Exodus 25:21 concerning the mercy seat.
Exodus 25:21 And there I will meet with you, and I will speak with you from above the mercy seat, from between the two cherubim which are on the ark of the Testimony, about everything which I will give you in commandment to the children of Israel.
He says, “And there I will meet with you, and I will speak with you from above the mercy seat.” If we are truly Christ’s, then that privilege is also ours. We are told that as Christians we may come boldly to the throne of grace.
Hebrews 4:15-16 For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
If indeed we are Christ’s we do not need to fear the judgment throne, for to us that throne is a throne of grace.
By EjmMissouri
To be Continued
submitted by EjmMissouri to bibleprophecy [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:14 levonor I just want to vent about my feelings

Hello people.
I just need to write down my thoughts and feelings. Please don't judge. I simply want to tell someone what I think and I don't have anyone like that at the moment. I dont want to brag about me I just want ...that someone know who I really am. WHO I REALLY AM. How I feel about myself
It will be a bit chaotic and I'm sorry for that.
tl;dr I'm a man who after couple of break ups feel anxious and started dating a girl. I just need a place to tell sameone about me.
I'm a 32y male, working as a medical doctor, former paramedic. I have stable job, earn a good money, have my own apartment, plenty of hobbys (guitar playing, book reading, astronomy, photography and astro photography, but I have open mind for everything) I ride motorbike but prefer calm trips to watch nature. I have good, safe car. Im at good health (mostly eat vegetarian products but I know how to cook good) I train for triathlon, hit gym.
I consider myself not an ugly man, maybe quite handsome. I love walks, romantic movies, art. I'm sensitive man. I don't hurt people, I'm forgiving, I feel compassion for others. I love music. I've got tattoos on both arms that show story of my life but nothing to brag and boost my confidence (like a lion with crown or similar) I'm a bit of old soul, I listen old rock music (Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin) but also I like dancing.
I never cheated in relationship, I'm a man with commitment, I have sex only with a girls who are with relationship with me. I treat woman with dignity, respect. I'm not a simp but also not a jerk. When I date with someone I dont date others cuz I belive in loyality. I'm a man who wants to establish a family. I want to be suportive to my partner, I want to kiss my kids for goodnight. I want to cuddle after sex, stare into eyes, and play with hairs.
I never ask a girl to my apartment to have sex on first date, never making plans to just "hook up". I have problems with "making a move" cuz I dont want to make other uncomfortable and think that I want only sex.
I know how to use tools and fix things. I have renovated my whole apartment by myself.
Why I want to say all of this?
It's becouse I feel tired and anxious. I feel that I dont fit to this world and I will never have a family.
With first girl - we broke up after 5 years - that was my first love. She didn't understand why I need to spend time learning at medicine Uni. Than another relationship lasts about 2.5 years - she broke up with me, she said she didnt love me anymore, after a month she was with another man (now they are married with 2 children) - I was devastated for a year, got depression. Luckly my friend was there for me.
After that I never wanted to date anymore. For about a year I commit myself to gym, marathons and myself. That was my prime time when one girl wanted to date me. More I ignored her, more she wanted to date.
That time I dated with another girl - after a year she cheated on me. So I started dateing the other one before - two of us we went for a trip to the mountains - there she was talking via msg with other guy and simply ignoring me.
I never cried more over the phone with my friend. The stars and mountains are only witness how hard I was crying and how low I was feeling that time.
After that I was completly closed with emotions. And then... after 6 months I started dateing with another girl - lets call her "Christine"
It was hard for both of us. At some point she learnd about my past and my difficulities with trust. She was in love with me and I was not. But she tried anyway. She was fighting for me everyday. She was supportive, full of love, calm. At some point I was unblocked and said to her that I love her too. And from that point everything was going good. She was my home, my family.
We have plans for living, we have loved each other and suddenly after 1 year everything collapsed and she said she doesnt love me anymore.
There was no fight, no argues. It was so unexpected for me. There was no indication that anything was wrong. All my friends were shocked. I was trying to save our relationship, I asked if she want to go to the psychologist becouse It was so strange that she wanted to break up. (yeah I know, there is a possibillity that there is another man but she had a strong plans to move to another country to start surgery, I was at my language course)
As you can see I'm a long term partner (there was a few dates more but without anything deep and intimate)
And here I am. Thinking what the hell is wrong with me?
I'm a successful man with a wish to have a family life. I'm this "good husband material" I'm the man women talk over social media about all the time "I dont want playejerk I want calm man who will love me and provide with safe" "guys just look to hook ups and treat woman like toys" yadayadayada I was never a simp and I know how to stand my ground and draw necessary boundries.
Now I started dating with a 29y girl (went to 3 dates, we kissed at my place but I didnt push for sex, I want her to feel safe with me) and I constantly feel anxious that when she's not replying shes talking to other mens. (she is after a 9year long relationship and I constantly feel "what the want?" "maybe she want to play a bit after a relationship? or maybe she want to establish a family cuz she is 29?) I'm perfectly fine with spending time alone and I dont fear that. But I still feel insecure if she like me, if she won't hurt me and what are her intentions. We meet each other on tinder and I'm aware that girls novadays have a HUGE selection and can just pick what they want.
But still - I think deep and wrote down every pros - I'm a pretty good material.
I constantly feel that I need to fight for my position as a man with others not only with situation with her but in all life. I feel pressure that man should always act like a society wants man to act.
I just want to have a calm life, build a house, have a children, cuddle with my wife, cry and laugh with her. I'm a loyal man, honest. I dont hide my emotions, I prefer to talk when there is a problem.
And I feel its sooo hard to achive.
I just feel that I dont want do over and over try to impress some girl and fight for attenion and showing that I'm a normal man who dont want to hook up and go for another girl.
If anyone has read all of this - thank you. I dont exepct any advice. I just wanted to write down laudly my feelings
submitted by levonor to relationships [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:14 DevoidHorror One of My Patients Burned His House Down. I Understand Why.

When he walked into my office it looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He was middle-aged, probably in his thirties, wearing what looked like an old jean jacket and a baseball cap. He kept looking around the room, nervous, scared. He sat in the chair in front of me after we introduced ourselves.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here.”
“What do you mean?” He asked. “This is all court-mandated, isn’t it?”
I nodded, “I meant why don’t you tell me why it is that you burned down your house.”
“I didn’t file the insurance claim if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No, I’m just here to try to understand the psychology behind your, well, decisions.”
“You’ll think I’m nuts.”
“Insurance claim or not, what you did was illegal and very dangerous.”
“Not letting the damn thing burn was more dangerous.”
I smiled. Now we were getting somewhere. He was tapping his leg fast, his eyes wildly jumping all over the room.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
He watched me, no words coming from his mouth. I waited. These were the moments when keeping silent are key. I knew he’d eventually break and start speaking.
It took nearly three minutes of uncomfortable staring, but he finally spoke:
“You ever hear about Amityville house?”
“The haunted one?”
He nodded. “They say it was the most haunted house in America.”
“I think they made a movie about it,” I said.
“They did.”
“What about the house?”
“Mine was worse.”
“Haunted?”
Again he was quiet, so I tried pressing a little further.
“You didn’t own the house very long,” I said.
“You watch scary movies a lot?”
“Sometimes, yes.”
“You see how they ramp up the hauntings usually? They’ll make a toy move here, a drawer open there, then little by little worse stuff starts happening.”
“Yes, then they have a big conclusion,” I said.
“That’s not how it works in real life.”
I looked down at my notes, then back at the man in the chair. He was standing at full alert, staring at the wall behind me. There was something strangely eerie about the way he was watching, as if he expected something to move. For a moment I felt desperate to look, to make sure nothing was there. I shook my head subtly, trying to get that feeling out of my head.
“Says here you owned the house for only two weeks,” I said. “You stayed there how long?”
“Slept there one night.”
“And in one night you decided to burn the place to the ground?”
“I did after it… after it happened.”
“Why don’t you tell me what happened exactly,” I said.
But the man was still staring at the wall behind me. The feeling came back immediately, a serious need to just look behind me, to make sure I was safe. I did my best to ignore it.
“Excuse me,” I said, but he ignored me. “Sir.”
That did it. He looked away from the wall and back at me, confused for a moment.
“Tell me what happened in that house.”
“Well, alright,” he began. “It was cold. Very cold. I thought the heat was broken or something. But it wasn’t the heat. The house had a fireplace, but the fire didn’t work. It was cold.”
“You noticed that when?”
“As soon as we moved in. It was a cold night, we needed to keep warm somehow. Things were happening from the moment we moved the last box from the truck. Boxes went missing. My wife, she set up the kitchen, had everything neat and tidy, all the forks and spoons and knives in the drawers. I called her over to help me set up the TV and when she went back the whole kitchen was upside down. Giant mess, everything on the floor, cabinets off their hinges, chairs completely cleaved in two. She was upset, she was very upset.”
I scribbled down everything the man said.
“First one to see it was my daughter.”
“Your daughter who is…”
“Dead, yes,” he said fighting back a tear. He closed his eyes tight and continued to speak. “She was watching TV, had just set it up. Where she was, the couch in the living room wasn’t pushed up against a wall or anything, there was space behind it. I guess she saw it once the TV turned black for a moment, you know how TV’s do when there’s a commercial or something. She was sitting on the couch, and it turned black for a second and she could see it on the screen, in the reflection. It was standing behind her.”
He was looking at the wall behind me again, and this time I couldn’t resist. His story had sent chills down my spine almost immediately. I turned around, but there was nothing there. When I turned back the man was smiling.
“Oh don’t worry, it can’t get you.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I know the words, you see?”
“What words?” I asked. But I had a feeling I knew what he was about to tell me. When he’d been found by the firemen that night they’d reported he’d been repeating some sort of gibberish over and over.
“They’re protection,” he said. “You want to learn them?”
I nodded, and the man smiled again. “Say them out loud, you only need to say them once, and they’ll keep you safe.”
As skeptical as I was, his story and the way he kept looking behind me had made me nervous. I agreed to say them, figuring that any protection, real or not, might not hurt. I invited anyone reading this to repeat the words too. Hopefully, they’ll keep you safe.
“Repeat after me, Thinso.”
“Thinso.”
“Kedwi.”
“Kedwi.”
“Seeth.”
“Seeth.”
“Ya.”
“Ya.”
“Mesco.”
“Mesco.
“Thinso Kedwi Seeth Ya Mesco.”
“Thinso Kedwi Seeth Ya Mesco,” I repeated. I held my breath, waiting. Would something happen? We sat in silence for what felt like an hour, but nothing happened. I almost started laughing at my own silliness.
“Did you expect something to happen?” Asked the man.
I shrugged, “I guess so! Did I do something wrong?”
“No, like I said, it’s just for protection. Just saying it once is enough. Now it won’t get you.”
I nodded, sighed, and looked back down at my notes. There was still a lot to talk about.
“Tell me about your wife,” I said.
“Well, she loved our daughter,” he said. “She wasn’t herself.”
“I have a statement from you that says your wife woke in the night.”
The man nodded, “I woke up when I heard a loud banging coming from the hallway. Thought maybe it was the cat. But no, it was my wife. She’d gotten up about an hour earlier and was standing there in her pajamas. She was hacking at the wall with a cleaver. Took me a minute to notice she was covered in blood.”
“Is that how…”
“She didn’t do it, my wife was dead by that point.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was finishing up some work downstairs before I went to bed, you see? I heard a commotion in our room, my wife was showering so I figured she must have fallen. When I got up there, she was in bed. Wide awake but totally quiet.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t either at first, but now I know. I went downstairs for a bit to finish up my work and when I came back upstairs, I kissed my wife goodnight. She was cold. I thought it was because the house was freezing. But no, that wasn’t it. She was dead. I kissed and slept next to my wife’s body for a few hours, and then it got up and went to the kitchen.”
“That’s where it, she, grabbed the knife?”
“Cleaver.”
“And then?”
“Well, it went for my daughter.”
“I see.”
“So am I crazy, or what?”
I frowned, “well, there’s a lot to unpack here. The trauma you went through that night, your wife, your daughter… it’s hard not to see why you’d start a fire.”
“You still remember the words?” Said the man.
“Thinso Kedwi Seeth Ya Mesco. What do they mean?” I asked.
But the man only smiled, then suddenly stood up and walked to the door. Without another word he opened it and walked out of my office.


----



I couldn’t sleep that night. For hours I tossed and turned in bed, feeling unusually cold. Then there was the clock. It was an old analog alarm clock I’d been gifted years ago. That night its ticking was unusually loud. Every single moment I thought I might be able to finally fall into a deep sleep, I could hear it ticking. Nothing made the sound go away, not even when I finally put it inside the drawer on my nightstand. As soon as I got comfortable the ticking started again. An incessant tiktok, tiktok, that hurt my brain.
I turned back and forth in my bed and hid my face under the pillow until I couldn’t take it anymore. The ticking was unceasing and constant, counting me down to something. For another hour I heard it ticking from inside my wardrobe where I’d placed it in the hope that I’d finally get some quiet and rest. But nothing worked. The wardrobe’s wood amplified the ticks.
Frustrated, I turned on the lights in my room and went to the wardrobe. I grabbed the clock and moved it to the bathroom outside my bedroom and closed the door. Then I closed my bedroom door for good measure and got into bed.
I saw it run under the bed right as I turned off the lights. I wasn’t completely sure what I’d seen for a moment, just a sudden movement that seemingly came out of nowhere, a dark blur. I felt a terror rise through me and send a cold shock that settled down near the tip of my spine. My mind immediately went to the words I’d spoken in my office. Thinso Kedwi Seeth Ya Mesco. I repeated them in my head as I noticed how cold my room really was.
“Thinso Kedwi Seeth Ya Mesco,” I whispered out loud.
I inched forward, holding my breath as I grabbed onto the sheets and leaned down to get a look. Something had definitely crawled in there. I could hear it. I felt the blood rush to my head as I turned my body upside down. I counted back from three and pulled back the duvet.
And there, from the opposite side of the bed, was a head staring back at me. It was in the exact same position that I was, looking down at me from my bed too. Whatever it was had somehow gotten in bed with me while I was moving and had somehow mimicked my movement from the other side. Then something grabbed my leg.
“Fuck!” I screamed and dived out of the covers, and straight to the ground. In seconds I had pushed myself back into the wall. I looked up at the bed. Nothing. I looked down. Nothing. I couldn’t see the entire bed from where I was.
I screamed when my phone rang. I don’t know why, but it somehow suddenly felt like a massive comfort, so I jumped to my feet and lunged for the bedside table where it sat vibrating away.
“Hello?” I said. I looked around the room and turned on the lights. The room was empty. I breathed.
“Yeah, hi. We’re calling about a patient, the girl from the house fire?”
“What about her?”
“She just woke up.”
“Woke up? No, I thought she had died.”
“No, she’s alive, just barely managed it too. A bit hysterical, though, we were hoping to get your professional opinion.”
I nodded, completely flustered. How had she survived her mother, that thing, how was she alive?
“I’ll be right there,” I said.


----



She was covered in burns. Nearly all of her body was hidden under layers of gauze and slimy-looking gel. She just barely managed to turn her head when I walked in.
“Who are you?” She asked. I could see she was in an immense amount of pain, even just moving her jaw enough to speak looked like the biggest effort imaginable.
“I’m a therapist. I spoke to your dad.”
“My dad?”
“Yes. Is he here? I’d like to have a word with him too.”
“How did… when did you talk to him?”
“Just this afternoon,” I said. “He came to my office. We spoke for an hour.”
“Are you sure that was my dad?”
“Yes, he told me he burned your house down, told me your mother attacked you, said you saw something standing behind you on the TV.”
“No, that’s not…” and suddenly her eyes widened, and a look of utter horror and shock appeared on her face.
“Did you say the words?” She asked.
“What?”
“Everything it told you was a lie. None of that happened. It just wants you to say the words.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Don’t you see? It loves toying with people. It wants you to say the words. Once you say the words it knows where you are. It will find you and take you.”
I looked at her, suddenly realizing what I had done.
“I…”
“It tricked you. Just like it tricked my family. Just like it likes to trick everyone else. It likes to play with its victims, and it’s getting smarter.”

Devoid Horror
submitted by DevoidHorror to scarystories [link] [comments]