Missing you gif

You're missing an "s"

2018.07.08 03:58 mikewhoneedsabike You're missing an "s"

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2014.04.15 15:34 hyperactivelime Missing 411: For people who want to know more. Unexplained disappearances and other weirdness

Information and discussion about people who go missing in National Parks and forests, and rural and urban areas, as detailed in the Missing 411 media. This is an unofficial, independant subreddit with no ties to CanAm Missing Project.
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2011.12.01 00:01 Reaction GIFS: Your absurd responses to everything.

Give a man a gif and he will meme all day, teach a man to REACT and he will be as a GOD
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2023.03.22 23:23 MyszPL I feel useless thinking about how this game's future looks, or will look.

I missed the golden ages of team fortress, i wish that i could have atleast experienced the game since let's say 2014. Yet. Ever since i discovered it in 2017 i've been playing it ever since, it is unique. One of the last remains of a non souless generic vidya game world.
I've been getting quite angry at the state of the game, i wish i could have experienced atleast the days we would get somewhat small, yet refreshing updates. I am starting to feel depressed and angry about the fact that i can't do anything to help the game, i've been trying my best. Creating workshop items, emailing the developers with new ideas, and so fourth, but i don't believe that this truly can be IT.
I don't, and perhaps the summer update might be a slim of hope? I just wish that this broken masterpiece was cared for, the state that it's in is not good and i feel as both the community and i are beginning to really feel not so sane. I want to return to the good time, that i never experienced. But i wish i did.
What do you think about the future of the game, tf2ers?
submitted by MyszPL to truetf2 [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:23 Megasaur13 Decidueye raid

Hey everyone I was just wondering if anyone would be willing to trade me a Rowlet? I work a lot and missed the first raid and am afraid I’ll miss the second one! I really wanna shiny hunt for a Rowlet so if anyone could trade me one that would be amazing thank you!!
submitted by Megasaur13 to pokemon [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:22 ThisBuildsCharacter Was Solar Actually Macbeth in SF64?

Was Solar Actually Macbeth in SF64?
In this post I’ll be going over the development history of Macbeth and Solar, as well as exploring a theory that they’re actually connected:

Missile Base

In grayed-out code in fox_map.c, Macbeth is described as a “missile base,” which matches what the JP guide book says. This is similar to its purpose in Star Fox 1 and 2. In SF1, Andross stockpiled his weapons and ammunition there, while in SF2 he launched missiles from it. It explains the Copperhead missile the train carries, the giant supply depot, and what looks like two missiles sitting out in front, which Boundary Break made easier to see:
Macbeth in SF64
A near final map of the Lylat System given to game magazines reveals a really odd structure floating in Macbeth’s orbit:
(Dengeki 64 and N64 Dream, May 1997, shared by ASISOR on twitter)
WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?
I feel like a ufologist staring at suspicious pixels in blurry footage. It looks like a giant horseshoe or magnet. It’s not a booger or anything, because it’s visible in Nintendo Power’s and Dengeki 64’s issues as well (just in even worse quality, and from different angles). Can anyone else tell what this is?
It’s not the scrapped 6th normal route stage, ‘cause it’s too close to Macbeth. If it’s part of Macbeth’s stage, it’s still really odd. Why go to the trouble of creating and programming this on the map screen? Does it represent an orbital missile platform or something? Did the level take place above Macbeth on some sort of space station, before they decided to make it another tank level?

Fiery Past

Along with Titania and Fortuna, Macbeth was one of the stages that got a big makeover. In Star Fox 1, the molten core shrank, leaving an open space beneath the crust that you fly through. Andross stockpiled weapons, ships, and ammunition here, which was just asking for trouble:
Macbeth in SF1
Because Macbeth was so geologically active, Andross likely triggered something bad to happen, because by Star Fox 2, the upper crust was gone, and the floor became lava:
Macbeth in SF2
Here’s a theory Patch suggested, but what if Solar used to be Macbeth? It looks a lot more like the SF1 and 2 incarnations when you compare:
Macbe- I MEAN Solar in SF64
In the earliest version of the Lylat System, one of the planets orbiting the sun(?) looks like a molten Macbeth:
E3 May 1996
There are unused sprites for many of the planets in the Gigaleak, which code in fox_map.c used to arrange into an early version of the map, but some of the planets seem to be mismatched. During development, they just called Solar “Sun” in Japanese:
https://preview.redd.it/s69daw2o6dpa1.png?width=524&format=png&auto=webp&s=3a78f6b14f495c62f9c460f7a8965f870abe27ad
Zoness and Fortuna look switched, while Macbeth seems to have a placeholder sprite. It’s possible Fortuna really was a jungle planet at one point, while Zoness was a pristine ocean world, but if they weren’t… what if Sun and Macbeth were switched as well? What if the molten sprite was a fiery version of Macbeth, while the white circle was the center of the sun?

A Missing Sun Stage?

For that to work, the Sun stage they were planning (or actually developing) would have to be different from Solar. Well, there is actually some evidence of this. According to fox_map.c, the sun stage had three whole exits! Yup, an easy, medium and hard route. Modern Solar is such a simple stage, it’s hard to imagine it having so many. We also know that Solar’s boss Vulcain used to be the boss of Sector X instead, so what were they planning instead?
If “Sun” was originally its own thing, perhaps it would’ve taken inspiration from Astropolis, and it really was supposed to be Lylat’s star. But again, this is just speculation.
Astropolis in SF2

Insight from the Script

The English script has some unused lines and interesting info. First off, the train conductor is named “Kaybarn!” At least, in internal NoA notes. Notably they left HVC-09’s name unchanged in the script, so maybe this was actually the conductor's original name:
https://preview.redd.it/wsyrhjku6dpa1.png?width=775&format=png&auto=webp&s=d4b9618f7ecc1f3d41ddb5342bec2aceb4399d33
In the final game, Falco helps you shoot the switches, but apparently Slippy was going to help as well! They likely removed that part because they wanted it to be special when Katt helps you out instead:
#Falco 20250 I'm here to rescue you!
#Slippy 20260 Don't forget me!
Slippy also has some unused lines on Solar:
#Slippy 10060 This baby can take temps. up to 9000 deg. 10070 Temperature is 6000 and climbing! 10080 It's now at 8000! Oh no! … 10323 It's too hot! I can't take it anymore!
Notably, there’s a gap between Slippy’s last line 10080 and the next line at 10200, which is Bill’s. Either they just left room for alternate route lines, or they cut 11+ lines from the final script. Maybe they cut a part where you were supposed to balance the Arwing’s temperature?

Now that I’ve gone through all the planets, in the next post I’ll finally connect the dots into the full beta Lylat Map.
submitted by ThisBuildsCharacter to starfox [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:22 daddy_cuddlez 49 [m4f] #nyc #financialdistrict Necessary Roughness, or, the girl who secretly craves to be degraded. Hosting

Good evening, I'm glad you clicked despite my cryptic post title. Why am I posting? What am I posting about? Well, for some time, I've posted on reddit and CL before that for a number of different activities. And thankfully, I've met with several dozen women over the years and have had a wonderful time.
As I have met women and also have corresponded with probably 5 times as many women (apparently I give good email or give good text lol), one thing has increasingly come up from women from so many different walks of life, from the erudite professorial Harvard type, to the 20-something girl working in retail. Many women secretly seek an experience where they are degraded and "used" by a man.
What do I mean? I think, through our correspondence, women feel comfortable sharing very secretly held, almost pornographic desires.
What did I hear?
Their words: They want to be used and abused (in a safe context of course). They want to be the cum slut, the dick whore, the miserable useless f-ck hole. Is that you? Do you secretly want to be subjugated, held in place by a hand cuffed around your neck while your breasts are coarsely grabbed and slapped? Do you want to be called miserable and wretched names? Do you crave a cock slapped across your face, or your face held against a hard cock, rubbed across that cock before it's shoved in your mouth deep? Do you want to gag til your eyes water? Do you want to be tied up while someone f-cks your mouth rough and deep, and then smears all your spit over your face as you gasp to catch your breath?
Does that turn you on? Are you wet thinking about this?
Do you want me to slap that pussy and tug your nipples before your tits also get slapped? Do you secretly want a daddy? Are you seeking a daddy to be kind and affectionate to you, to play bouncy horse on his lap, but also to deliver punishments you deserve, like a stinging red bottom from a thorough spanking, followed by a firm grasp of your jaw with a stern warning "not to do it again." I don't even think we're close to the limits of what some secretly pervy girls want.
For example, after a thorough humiliation, and an intense pounding while I finger your a-- and step on your face, you want to get pissed on, don't you? You have this hidden fvcking curiosity, what would it be like to feel that hot golden water pulsed on my face, on my tits, all over me. What the fvck is wrong with you? You want it so bad...
As you can see, I finally decided to write a post and offer this head on, not as a subsequent thing, but calling it out for what it is, pulling the layers and layers of secrecy right off and shining an intense light on it. Feeling a little exposed? Good.
All of this is driving you a little crazy reading it? Good. Very good, big girl. You touching yourself while reading this? Very nice. Rub it hard and then send me a little note about what you liked the most. Maybe we can start with that. I'm 49, white, Mediterranean, very paternal, educated, executive, playful, respectful (except when you don't want me to be).
Ok... send me a message admitting that you are one of the craven, one of those women who secretly harbor these desires but no one would ever know on the surface. That's you, miss VP. That's you, mom with the SUV. That's you, the lesbian with invasive cock-sucking thoughts. That's you, college student doing the 'curious' thing. Well, what are you waiting for?
I'm free tonight after a work dinner. You can come by my hotel, near Wall Street. Happy to host.
If you like, I can share a success story by direct message, to get your juices gushing.
submitted by daddy_cuddlez to r4rNYC [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:20 GuardTasty Can anyone give me relationship advice?

I'm a 20m and she's 19f, we have been together 6 monthes and known her for 9 months. I have made her cry many times and I hate it . Sometimes I feel she is to sensitive but sometimes her points are also valid. She named like 8 things I don't do anymore that makes her feel not close to me anymore and she's right . I stopped doing little meaningful stuff like double texting, wondering about her day, saying I miss you or surprising her at her house . I don't do any of that much anymore but I also get sad when thinking about breaking up .
submitted by GuardTasty to ask [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:20 AvacadoEllis19 r/hungergames comedy

hungergames comedy submitted by AvacadoEllis19 to YourJokeButBetter [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:20 cfmonty (Spoilers Extended) Valonqar Theory Based On Valyrian Dictionary Translator?

(Spoilers Extended) Valonqar Theory Based On Valyrian Dictionary Translator?
Does this make sense to you?
https://www.valyrian-dictionary.com/word/valonqar describes valonqar as "younger brother; younger male cousin by father's brother or mother's sister." If this is the case, then the valonqar could be:
  • Kevan's son Lancel: Now a Warrior's Son, so works within the story.
  • Kevan's son Martyn: A minor character, not likely based on anything seen so far
  • Tygett's son Tyrek: Missing since the riots at King's Landing. There's a lot of speculation that he is going to come back at some point and reveal Lannister secrets, maybe he is sent to get close to Cersei and assassinate her

Valyrian Dictionary

Maybe I'm missing something very basic...
submitted by cfmonty to asoiaf [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:19 Dragonqwest Lurking within the Users

Whether you have glanced within from my previous post, or have come straight through the door, welcome, to a post that I believe may assist you in the future.

I have been using my HDD as my main boot for the past five years, after installing a new M.2 SSD two days ago, I now have gone from a lengthy 3-minute boot to a sub-5-second boot. Yes, it is indeed quite incredible.

However, if you have read my misfortunes in the previous letter you will know that I am starting from scratch, and am reinstalling everything.

Because my original HDD had all the files I needed, cloning to my SSD took around two hours, and with many failed and unforgiving moments, I have learned to separate, or "partition" my OS in another drive in the same SSD. To help me in migration for anything I plan to do in the future.

On paper, this is a very clean setup, and I won't be distracted by the numerous folders windows creates upon installation. And with a 50 GB total allocation made for the OS in its own partition, I figured I would not have to worry about it.

But I was wrong, life is not simple, and challenges find a way. Upon installing many programs, I found that programs like Adobe would stubbornly install themselves in the folder "users" which is located in the OS partition without even asking.

This is exactly what I had feared, files finding their way into the "employees only" section of my digital library, undetected, and unable to be organized properly.

I bring forth two main questions, in the hopes of receiving answers, or perhaps tips, on this case. Is there a way to restrict files from writing in my OS partition? and what are your own methods for organizing your files and making your drives easier to read?

This one is for you, future PC-Builder.
submitted by Dragonqwest to datarecovery [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:18 RevolutionaryShop814 Does anybody consider Inherent Vice to be his “best work”?

I’ve been aware of the praise for IV since I really got involved in PTA’s filmography. Some very notable opinions that I highly respect even regard it as “his best work”, but I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something. I’m a big believer in ambiguity in film as I think there’s beauty in not fully understanding what you’re watching… in fact I think it’s best to not know everything, but I’ve always found IV (and a lot of Pynchon’s work) to really ride the line between “ambiguity” and “obscurity”.
Help me understand!!!!
submitted by RevolutionaryShop814 to paulthomasanderson [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:18 Dragonqwest Lurking within the Users

Whether you have glanced within from my previous post, or have come straight through the door, welcome, to a post that I believe may assist you in the future.

I have been using my HDD as my main boot for the past five years, after installing a new M.2 SSD two days ago, I now have gone from a lengthy 3-minute boot to a sub-5-second boot. Yes, it is indeed quite incredible.

However, if you have read my misfortunes in the previous letter you will know that I am starting from scratch, and am reinstalling everything.

Because my original HDD had all the files I needed, cloning to my SSD took around two hours, and with many failed and unforgiving moments, I have learned to separate, or "partition" my OS in another drive in the same SSD. To help me in migration for anything I plan to do in the future.

On paper, this is a very clean setup, and I won't be distracted by the numerous folders windows creates upon installation. And with a 50 GB total allocation made for the OS in its own partition, I figured I would not have to worry about it.

But I was wrong, life is not simple, and challenges find a way. Upon installing many programs, I found that programs like Adobe would stubbornly install themselves in the folder "users" which is located in the OS partition without even asking.

This is exactly what I had feared, files finding their way into the "employees only" section of my digital library, undetected, and unable to be organized properly.

I bring forth two main questions, in the hopes of receiving answers, or perhaps tips, on this case. Is there a way to restrict files from writing in my OS partition? and what are your own methods for organizing your files and making your drives easier to read?

This one is for you, future PC-Builder.
submitted by Dragonqwest to buildapc [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:18 amermaidfromjupiter Why won’t they take your side and validate your feelings/experiences?

Really stepping out of my lurker bubble and making a post here. I just want to say it’s really nice to have spaces where we can talk candidly about the failures and shortcomings of the mental health system, without being told we don’t understand what we’re talking about (lol) or being made to feel like we’re somehow harming others.
This is something that’s come to really bother me within the last three or four months, though it’s been a problem for longer. It applies a lot to my current (and seventh) therapist, though I’m feeling like I could definitely apply it to the ones before as well, especially given that most of those completely missed many red flags and did a pretty poor job overall while I was actively enduring trauma. I feel like therapists can’t just take my side fully and without any hesitation and need to express doubt or try to get me to “reframe” things.
With my current one, he never refers to what my parents did to me as abuse, despite me actively doing so every time I talk about them and their actions very clearly qualifying as such. It always goes back to my father just being mentally ill, for example; that’s how he always phrases that (for transparency, my father was psychotic, but he was also very aware of what he was doing and deliberate in his actions). During my session this week, when I talked about how I was angry at my mother for continuing some of the very same abuse she experienced and her frequently protecting my father at her children’s expense after an episode of feeling really sad for her, he asked “how it benefits me” to frame like that. When I said I didn’t have to feel guilt about not wanting a relationship with her nor do I have to feel sad for her when I have no evidence that she feels sad for what I’ve been through that she helped play a part of, he basically said this was binary thinking. Yesterday, as well as in the past when I’ve talked about my mother’s harmful enabling, he has said that he believes that people will take action if they are capable of it. While this may be true, I see it as taking my mother off the hook yet again and downplaying what she’s done. Another example is with one of my roommates, a former friend who decided to talk shit and tell lies about me to our landlord, unprompted, when I was in the hospital at the very beginning of our lease. For several reasons, I found this to be really devastating and a huge betrayal. My therapist always turns this into a thing of her “not being skillful” and has frequently encouraged me to try to communicate with her on a more vulnerable level again to challenge myself, despite more and more evidence that has come out since she doesn’t care nor respect me.
There are more examples, and I’ll link a relevant comment I made after a particularly unhelpful session a couple of months ago, but those ones that come to mind bother me the most because it’s like…why is it so hard to just be like “these people were in the wrong and you’re justified (not even right if that’s going to far, for whatever reason—just justified) in feeling the way you do”. Like no, “I’m sorry, this sucks”, always trying to almost do this damage control and show that I’m the crazy one, as usual, overreacting and needing to move forward for the sake of carrying on. I’ll be completely candid and say this is already a huge sore spot in my life in general, as no one has ever taken my side or gone to bat for me in situations like this; it’s a big reason why I don’t trust and like people now, and I do see it as one of the biggest factors in why my C-PTSD has gotten to the level it has. But it hits a very different way when you’re paying someone money (that I usually don’t have a lot of!) and have a relationship dependent on cutting yourself open to bleed out your worst moments for them to basically do this to you too.
Does anyone else have this experience? What do you make of it? I’m going to be cynical and say it’s rooted in them not believing you or thinking you’re exaggerating (which, just like…1) what do I have to gain by paying you to listen to me lie? Seriously? Why are you my therapist if you don’t believe what I’m telling you?; and 2) when shit really hit the fan, my therapists have always had clear evidence that I was telling the truth, one way or another) and/or them assuming you have no way of really understanding things and being grounded in reality because you’re the crazy one, the mentally ill patient needing to see the therapist. I don’t know, I don’t feel like it’s a big ask to use language that validates the things I’m feeling (e.g., call abusive actions—like that you would have to absolutely report as a mandated reporter, which I believe all therapists are—abuse) and to at least acknowledge that people really hurt me and I’m allowed to feel hurt, without there being the obligatory string of “but” or “consider this” attached. Why do I always have to be the bigger person and look things from all angles?
Am I making sense here lol?
submitted by amermaidfromjupiter to therapyabuse [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:17 Dragonqwest Lurking within the Users

Whether you have glanced within from my previous post, or have come straight through the door, welcome, to a post that I believe may assist you in the future.

I have been using my HDD as my main boot for the past five years, after installing a new M.2 SSD two days ago, I now have gone from a lengthy 3-minute boot to a sub-5-second boot. Yes, it is indeed quite incredible.

However, if you have read my misfortunes in the previous letter you will know that I am starting from scratch, and am reinstalling everything.

Because my original HDD had all the files I needed, cloning to my SSD took around two hours, and with many failed and unforgiving moments, I have learned to separate, or "partition" my OS in another drive in the same SSD. To help me in migration for anything I plan to do in the future.

On paper, this is a very clean setup, and I won't be distracted by the numerous folders windows creates upon installation. And with a 50 GB total allocation made for the OS in its own partition, I figured I would not have to worry about it.

But I was wrong, life is not simple, and challenges find a way. Upon installing many programs, I found that programs like Adobe would stubbornly install themselves in the folder "users" which is located in the OS partition without even asking.

This is exactly what I had feared, files finding their way into the "employees only" section of my digital library, undetected, and unable to be organized properly.

I bring forth two main questions, in the hopes of receiving answers, or perhaps tips, on this case. Is there a way to restrict files from writing in my OS partition? and what are your own methods for organizing your files and making your drives easier to read?

This one is for you, future PC-Builder.
submitted by Dragonqwest to techsupport [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:16 johnny___engineer I believe Prigozhin is a firm believer in, You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

I believe Prigozhin is a firm believer in, You miss 100% of the shots you don't take. submitted by johnny___engineer to NonCredibleDefense [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:15 3002kr /r/askSingapore sings Never Gonna Give You Up

submitted by 3002kr to rickroll [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:15 Icy_Airport5602 next steps to not get evicted

i will try to make a really long story short. just some quick insight my mom is on dallas county housing assistance program and have been since we moved to texas (16 yrs) and have had no problems with the house we’ve been living in for the past almost 10 years now, up until the old landlords who were lovely and kept the house serviced gave it to the now landlords who refuses to fix the plumbing in our house. anywho to give background on the landlord he hires women as the “property manager” in and out, we had 3-4 different ones since a he’s taken over (he’s been the landlord for about 2.5 yrs now) and he acts clueless to what’s going on when we only have contact with him and the property managers to my knowledge only deals with rent payment. well the landlord has been slowly raising our rent over these couple of years now and but the way housing program work is you only pay a certain amount that is calculated by the housing program and the program pays the difference, well the landlord thinks that we have to pay the entire balance out of pocket, but the thing is even if we had the money to pay fully out of pocket we would get kicked out of the program. we’ve been telling our case worker about it since he’s started this bs and now shit is hitting the fan. basically my mom missed the court date bc she thought is was the following day so the landlord told her to just pay him what he THINKS we owe him, when he’s never gotten approval to raise our rent from housing program. my mom ended up scrapping up and borrowing $1500 to pay what was due to the dallas county courts but she didn’t make it yesterday before the courts closed, she went to try and pay today but they said she’ll have to go thru like the big courts in downtown and she talked to a legal aide today as well and he gave her false hope that it would be worked out but called her back saying that we were gonna be evicted because they already filled out the paperwork and everything. i would also like to mention that the case worker was never responding and we didn’t just start bringing it up, we’ve been thru 3 case workers discussing the situation and no one has cared up until now that it’s too late. i can give more details if needed because im leaving out a lot including some under the table shady things they’ve done, due to save the length but please if there is someone that could give insight or any advice it’d be much appreciated .
submitted by Icy_Airport5602 to legaladvice [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]


2023.03.22 23:13 The_Local_Vagabond M4F Tales From the Gas Station: The New Hire

At the edge of our town, there’s a shitty gas station that’s open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If you were to go inside, you’d see row after row of off-brand chips, cookies, potted meats, and pickled curiosities. Expiration dates suspiciously missing from the canned goods like they were filed off years ago in some misguided attempt to control inventory turnover. A faded “wet floor” sign from way back covers a large crack in the foundation by the cooler where layers of sticky spill-off have formed a miniature tar pit, preserving countless insect corpses and the occasional small rodent.
Nobody ever complains about the aesthetic. By some providence bordering on the supernatural, the health inspector has repeatedly signed off on the business, always kindly ignoring the faint smell of some kind of mysterious chemical cocktail that is the defining characteristic of the establishment. More noticeable than the steady mechanical hum of the frozen drink machine that was installed in the seventies and never once serviced. More distracting than the random pockets of cold and warm air that seem to follow you around. And more annoying than the family of mutated raccoons that lives in the crawlspace behind the grease trap.
We think they’re mutated anyway. At the very least, they must be inbred to the point of genetic deformity and mental retardation. The alpha, a muscular three-foot-tall son of a bitch named Rocco, has been spotted multiple times chewing on people’s tires and has been run over at least twice, but keeps coming back.
That lingering smell, a sweet combination of honeysuckle, ammonia, and vomit, has never been positively identified, but the prevalent theory is that it’s coming from underground, wafting up through the thin fissures in the concrete that grow and spread with each year of architectural settling. It’s strongest right after a rain, and pungent to the point of tear-inducing if you get too close to the storm drains where even Rocco and his clan refuse to tread.
If you were to go inside, you might also see the bathroom cowboy. He's sort of an urban legend around here, only ever appearing when you’re alone and unsuspecting. What makes him truly legendary are the stories people tell after an alleged encounter. The accounts run the gamut from “pretty weird” to “impossibly bizarre.” Like the guy last month who went for a pee but changed his mind when he saw him standing there next to the urinal, wearing a duster, bandanna, boots, and chaps, handing out balloon animals.
Or a couple weeks later when another customer stepped into the same bathroom to see a man wearing nothing but a cowboy hat, boxers, and boots with spurs, literally grinding an ax on an old-fashioned stone sharpening wheel. When he entered, the cowboy stopped what he was doing, looked up with a smile and a tip of the hat and said, “Come on, Man... Come onnn with it.”
If you should be lucky enough to see the cowboy that may or may not haunt the bathroom, don't worry. He's harmless, and in fact usually quite polite. Honestly, he doesn’t seem so bad. Especially compared to some of the other things going on in that place.
When you go inside, you might instantly get a toothache. That’s a strangely common phenomenon that nobody really understands. It should go away on its own after a couple hours.
If you do go inside, you will almost definitely see me sitting behind the counter, because I am the only full-time employee, and I’m almost always here. You may catch me reading a book because, for some reason, the internet doesn’t work way out here, and cell phone service is dicey on good days and nonexistent on most. If you need to make a call, you can leave and go up the hill a ways, preferably back towards town because the other way will take you into the woods and you don’t even want me to go into all the reasons that’s not a good idea. Or you can pay me twenty-five cents a minute and use the store’s land line. (That arrangement was cooked up by the owners and I have to actually enforce it because they do check the phone records. I’m sorry.)
While you’re here, don’t be offended if I don’t strike up a conversation because, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t always know for sure if everyone who comes through those doors is real or not and if I had to acknowledge everyone in that place that could be an actual person, I might lose my mind. And we don’t need any more of that going on around here.
I guess that the point I’m trying to make is this: weird things happen to me working at the shitty gas station at the edge of town.
—————
Howdy! Im looking to do an RP set in the world of TFTGS by Jack Townsend. For those who haven’t read the books/listened to the creepy pasta, go do that cause it’s amazing. No? Still here? Cool! Cause honestly you not really knowing much about it would play really well into the RP. If you HAVE read it, that’s cool too. If you wanted to play as O’Brien (preferred), Rosa or an OC of some kind just let me know. I look forward to speaking/RPing with you.
submitted by The_Local_Vagabond to DiscordRP [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:13 The_Local_Vagabond M4F Tales From the Gas Station: The New Hire

At the edge of our town, there’s a shitty gas station that’s open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If you were to go inside, you’d see row after row of off-brand chips, cookies, potted meats, and pickled curiosities. Expiration dates suspiciously missing from the canned goods like they were filed off years ago in some misguided attempt to control inventory turnover. A faded “wet floor” sign from way back covers a large crack in the foundation by the cooler where layers of sticky spill-off have formed a miniature tar pit, preserving countless insect corpses and the occasional small rodent.
Nobody ever complains about the aesthetic. By some providence bordering on the supernatural, the health inspector has repeatedly signed off on the business, always kindly ignoring the faint smell of some kind of mysterious chemical cocktail that is the defining characteristic of the establishment. More noticeable than the steady mechanical hum of the frozen drink machine that was installed in the seventies and never once serviced. More distracting than the random pockets of cold and warm air that seem to follow you around. And more annoying than the family of mutated raccoons that lives in the crawlspace behind the grease trap.
We think they’re mutated anyway. At the very least, they must be inbred to the point of genetic deformity and mental retardation. The alpha, a muscular three-foot-tall son of a bitch named Rocco, has been spotted multiple times chewing on people’s tires and has been run over at least twice, but keeps coming back.
That lingering smell, a sweet combination of honeysuckle, ammonia, and vomit, has never been positively identified, but the prevalent theory is that it’s coming from underground, wafting up through the thin fissures in the concrete that grow and spread with each year of architectural settling. It’s strongest right after a rain, and pungent to the point of tear-inducing if you get too close to the storm drains where even Rocco and his clan refuse to tread.
If you were to go inside, you might also see the bathroom cowboy. He's sort of an urban legend around here, only ever appearing when you’re alone and unsuspecting. What makes him truly legendary are the stories people tell after an alleged encounter. The accounts run the gamut from “pretty weird” to “impossibly bizarre.” Like the guy last month who went for a pee but changed his mind when he saw him standing there next to the urinal, wearing a duster, bandanna, boots, and chaps, handing out balloon animals.
Or a couple weeks later when another customer stepped into the same bathroom to see a man wearing nothing but a cowboy hat, boxers, and boots with spurs, literally grinding an ax on an old-fashioned stone sharpening wheel. When he entered, the cowboy stopped what he was doing, looked up with a smile and a tip of the hat and said, “Come on, Man... Come onnn with it.”
If you should be lucky enough to see the cowboy that may or may not haunt the bathroom, don't worry. He's harmless, and in fact usually quite polite. Honestly, he doesn’t seem so bad. Especially compared to some of the other things going on in that place.
When you go inside, you might instantly get a toothache. That’s a strangely common phenomenon that nobody really understands. It should go away on its own after a couple hours.
If you do go inside, you will almost definitely see me sitting behind the counter, because I am the only full-time employee, and I’m almost always here. You may catch me reading a book because, for some reason, the internet doesn’t work way out here, and cell phone service is dicey on good days and nonexistent on most. If you need to make a call, you can leave and go up the hill a ways, preferably back towards town because the other way will take you into the woods and you don’t even want me to go into all the reasons that’s not a good idea. Or you can pay me twenty-five cents a minute and use the store’s land line. (That arrangement was cooked up by the owners and I have to actually enforce it because they do check the phone records. I’m sorry.)
While you’re here, don’t be offended if I don’t strike up a conversation because, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t always know for sure if everyone who comes through those doors is real or not and if I had to acknowledge everyone in that place that could be an actual person, I might lose my mind. And we don’t need any more of that going on around here.
I guess that the point I’m trying to make is this: weird things happen to me working at the shitty gas station at the edge of town.
—————
Howdy! Im looking to do an RP set in the world of TFTGS by Jack Townsend. For those who haven’t read the books/listened to the creepy pasta, go do that cause it’s amazing. No? Still here? Cool! Cause honestly you not really knowing much about it would play really well into the RP. If you HAVE read it, that’s cool too. If you wanted to play as O’Brien (preferred), Rosa or an OC of some kind just let me know. I look forward to speaking/RPing with you.
submitted by The_Local_Vagabond to roleplaying [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:12 Leading-Taro9721 Dylan Conrique

submitted by Leading-Taro9721 to GorgeousSexyWomen [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:12 The_Local_Vagabond M4F Tales From the Gas Station: The New Hire

At the edge of our town, there’s a shitty gas station that’s open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If you were to go inside, you’d see row after row of off-brand chips, cookies, potted meats, and pickled curiosities. Expiration dates suspiciously missing from the canned goods like they were filed off years ago in some misguided attempt to control inventory turnover. A faded “wet floor” sign from way back covers a large crack in the foundation by the cooler where layers of sticky spill-off have formed a miniature tar pit, preserving countless insect corpses and the occasional small rodent.
Nobody ever complains about the aesthetic. By some providence bordering on the supernatural, the health inspector has repeatedly signed off on the business, always kindly ignoring the faint smell of some kind of mysterious chemical cocktail that is the defining characteristic of the establishment. More noticeable than the steady mechanical hum of the frozen drink machine that was installed in the seventies and never once serviced. More distracting than the random pockets of cold and warm air that seem to follow you around. And more annoying than the family of mutated raccoons that lives in the crawlspace behind the grease trap.
We think they’re mutated anyway. At the very least, they must be inbred to the point of genetic deformity and mental retardation. The alpha, a muscular three-foot-tall son of a bitch named Rocco, has been spotted multiple times chewing on people’s tires and has been run over at least twice, but keeps coming back.
That lingering smell, a sweet combination of honeysuckle, ammonia, and vomit, has never been positively identified, but the prevalent theory is that it’s coming from underground, wafting up through the thin fissures in the concrete that grow and spread with each year of architectural settling. It’s strongest right after a rain, and pungent to the point of tear-inducing if you get too close to the storm drains where even Rocco and his clan refuse to tread.
If you were to go inside, you might also see the bathroom cowboy. He's sort of an urban legend around here, only ever appearing when you’re alone and unsuspecting. What makes him truly legendary are the stories people tell after an alleged encounter. The accounts run the gamut from “pretty weird” to “impossibly bizarre.” Like the guy last month who went for a pee but changed his mind when he saw him standing there next to the urinal, wearing a duster, bandanna, boots, and chaps, handing out balloon animals.
Or a couple weeks later when another customer stepped into the same bathroom to see a man wearing nothing but a cowboy hat, boxers, and boots with spurs, literally grinding an ax on an old-fashioned stone sharpening wheel. When he entered, the cowboy stopped what he was doing, looked up with a smile and a tip of the hat and said, “Come on, Man... Come onnn with it.”
If you should be lucky enough to see the cowboy that may or may not haunt the bathroom, don't worry. He's harmless, and in fact usually quite polite. Honestly, he doesn’t seem so bad. Especially compared to some of the other things going on in that place.
When you go inside, you might instantly get a toothache. That’s a strangely common phenomenon that nobody really understands. It should go away on its own after a couple hours.
If you do go inside, you will almost definitely see me sitting behind the counter, because I am the only full-time employee, and I’m almost always here. You may catch me reading a book because, for some reason, the internet doesn’t work way out here, and cell phone service is dicey on good days and nonexistent on most. If you need to make a call, you can leave and go up the hill a ways, preferably back towards town because the other way will take you into the woods and you don’t even want me to go into all the reasons that’s not a good idea. Or you can pay me twenty-five cents a minute and use the store’s land line. (That arrangement was cooked up by the owners and I have to actually enforce it because they do check the phone records. I’m sorry.)
While you’re here, don’t be offended if I don’t strike up a conversation because, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t always know for sure if everyone who comes through those doors is real or not and if I had to acknowledge everyone in that place that could be an actual person, I might lose my mind. And we don’t need any more of that going on around here.
I guess that the point I’m trying to make is this: weird things happen to me working at the shitty gas station at the edge of town.
—————
Howdy! Im looking to do an RP set in the world of TFTGS by Jack Townsend. For those who haven’t read the books/listened to the creepy pasta, go do that cause it’s amazing. No? Still here? Cool! Cause honestly you not really knowing much about it would play really well into the RP. If you HAVE read it, that’s cool too. If you wanted to play as O’Brien (preferred), Rosa or an OC of some kind just let me know. I look forward to speaking/RPing with you.
submitted by The_Local_Vagabond to discordroleplay [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:12 boosted5O Until we meet again

Until we meet again submitted by boosted5O to husky [link] [comments]


2023.03.22 23:12 real_redditer Complimentary add ons

Hello everyone,
I have just found out that my Taycan is missing several items that I had ordered, such as heads-up display and massage seats. I am currently trying to decide whether to insist on getting a new car, as I have been offered, which would mean waiting longer to receive it. Alternatively, I could accept the slightly cheaper car, but with the promise of some accessories from Porsche.
Initially, I was considering asking for a few add-on items such as a different steering wheel with drive select or larger rims (20 inches), but I am unsure if this would require a rebuild or if they could be retrofitted at the showroom garage. They suggested accessories, but upon researching online, I discovered that they may be trivial items such as a car cover etc. I am not certain if they meant actual add-ons or these trivial accessories.
If I am able to choose proper add-ons, what would you recommend for my 4S Cross Tourismo?
Thank you in advance.
submitted by real_redditer to Taycan [link] [comments]