f8ss3 t9nt3 za259 7s5a2 ennfn 659et knr66 ek6t7 ye7f8 6dn2d a5sra 6h66r ke559 28kts hbzdi t9n7z t8rak r6zh3 ay76k 7sifa 4rbky WIP of the exodite Wraithseer. Spiritseer De’lenn is 90% done and wraithsinger Le’nnier is about 60%. Tidying and details to go |

WIP of the exodite Wraithseer. Spiritseer De’lenn is 90% done and wraithsinger Le’nnier is about 60%. Tidying and details to go

2022.01.26 20:36 TechmagosBinary WIP of the exodite Wraithseer. Spiritseer De’lenn is 90% done and wraithsinger Le’nnier is about 60%. Tidying and details to go

WIP of the exodite Wraithseer. Spiritseer De’lenn is 90% done and wraithsinger Le’nnier is about 60%. Tidying and details to go submitted by TechmagosBinary to Warhammer [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 politicly1 Bill to limit THC in pot sold at dispensaries draws swift backlash: 'It's almost impossible'

Bill to limit THC in pot sold at dispensaries draws swift backlash: 'It's almost impossible' submitted by politicly1 to politicly [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 p3fHrjZ55ChAcei IMF、エルサルバドルにビットコイン法定化中止を要請[ロイター]

IMF、エルサルバドルにビットコイン法定化中止を要請[ロイター] submitted by p3fHrjZ55ChAcei to shikyo [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 BrondonDuddiez Shipping

I ordered a pic about two weeks ago and was wondering if you guys send an email or notify us whenever the pc is actually shipped
submitted by BrondonDuddiez to vrlatech_official [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Tiny_Preparation3320 New job overlaps 30 day notice. What do I do?

I’m currently working in a management role for a healthcare agency. I’m salaried and was offered a position with another company at the end of December. They wanted to wait until February for me to start and I stupidly assumed I could manage both positions for a few weeks of overlap as the second job is entirely remote.
Well they want me to travel overnight for the next few weeks straight for training. I want to put in a 30 day notice but I will obviously need to bring up that I could only work evenings in the hotel room. This would actually be okay as I could do 75% of my job after hours. Reports, billing, audits, etc. I feel like if I ask them to reduce my pay for the next 30 days to reflect this, they might be okay with it. Especially since I’m the only one at a local level who can do my job responsibilities and they will absolutely be in a pinch here. I figure beggars can’t be choosers. I know I put myself in this position assuming the onboarding for the other position would be remote. What do I do..
submitted by Tiny_Preparation3320 to careerguidance [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Copperhead6761 Stuff Floating in the Bottom of Body Armor Sports Drink

Does anyone know what this stuff is, it looks like paper in a way, I don’t really know how to describe it, can someone tell me what it is.
submitted by Copperhead6761 to questions [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 radmansebay I am sending you 1π! Pi is a new digital currency developed by Stanford PhDs, with over 25 million members worldwide. To claim your Pi, follow this link https://minepi.com/bobbyblackburn and use my username (bobbyblackburn) as your invitation code.

I am sending you 1π! Pi is a new digital currency developed by Stanford PhDs, with over 25 million members worldwide. To claim your Pi, follow this link https://minepi.com/bobbyblackburn and use my username (bobbyblackburn) as your invitation code. submitted by radmansebay to CryptoReferralChain [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 JWest8 BACK TO THE GAMES COME ON!!!!!!

BACK TO THE GAMES COME ON!!!!!! submitted by JWest8 to TwitchFollowers [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Major-Ad-5573 Got this rockstar and its tab is different so is the coloring, does this mean anything

Got this rockstar and its tab is different so is the coloring, does this mean anything submitted by Major-Ad-5573 to energydrinks [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 PhroggyChief More flight hours for Rolls Royce RB211s on the way: New Alaskan startup Northern Pacific chooses all refurbished Boeing 757-200 Fleet.

More flight hours for Rolls Royce RB211s on the way: New Alaskan startup Northern Pacific chooses all refurbished Boeing 757-200 Fleet. submitted by PhroggyChief to RYCEY [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 linesndots Addicts or recovered addicts: what’s something you wish someone had done for you when you were first developing your addiction?

submitted by linesndots to AskReddit [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Silver-Term-2285 This seems like such an obvious meme to make, but I'm relatively sure nobody's done it yet :l

This seems like such an obvious meme to make, but I'm relatively sure nobody's done it yet :l submitted by Silver-Term-2285 to teenagers [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 No_Call7002 Me and my baby

submitted by No_Call7002 to SingleDads [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 aisptn01 get your ass up lazy mf

get your ass up lazy mf submitted by aisptn01 to shitposting [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Kamui024 Hot wingggggz

Hot wingggggz submitted by Kamui024 to KamTree [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Available-Damage-567 (UK) Out of my depth…

So I’ve been a shift manager for several weeks now and don’t feel like I’m good as a manager. I’m fine when it’s not my shift but when it comes to shift running I always do something wrong. My focus is lacking on some areas when one thing is good for example OEPE can be good but cleanliness needs some attention to detail.
Franchisee is too obsessed with metrics and arsey emails don’t promote good attitudes. McDelivery is too much of a headache - why can’t people cook their crazy grills at home? Several crew members including trainers and managers have left in the past 12 months and they were good at their jobs.
I don’t like the crew as much, I do find some of them lazy especially on the evenings and feel like other shift managers look down on me. I’m at a point where I’m trying my best with the little training and preparation I was given before my promotion, but feel like it is not enough.
Ultimately, I want to leave. This transition to management was to build upon my skills but I feel like I get undermined when I shift run and my shifts get taken over. The details are blurry but I was told if you leave before 6 - 12 months you have to pay you course fee back and the figure is either £300 or £3000.
I was hoping to last out till September the latest if not May/June time but idk anymore. Trying to keep positive but there’s a limit and the longer I leave it the more it will impact my mental health. Could anyone provide advice? Especially in regards to the course fee and minimum time you can work before leaving.
submitted by Available-Damage-567 to McLounge [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Legitimate-Night9587 Is there any way to prevent headaches on an Oculus Quest 2? I just got mine today and they’re hurting

submitted by Legitimate-Night9587 to OculusQuest2 [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Donoizcool Can’t find Social Science Book

IR Seeking Security, Prosperity, and Quality of Life in a Changing World
ISBN: 9781544381640, 1544381646
4th Edition
submitted by Donoizcool to textbookrequest [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 44shadow96 ايه توقعاتكم لمباراة مصر والمغرب ؟

تحية لكم من المغرب اخواني اخواتي
View Poll
submitted by 44shadow96 to Egypt [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Interesting_Bug_7567 Can you get into UMD with mostly A's and B's?

This is for EA and applying as an engineering major btw
submitted by Interesting_Bug_7567 to UMD [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 LSF_repostBot Esfand's NoShotOmegalul

Esfand's NoShotOmegalul submitted by LSF_repostBot to antiLiveStreamFails [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Additional_Ad_7896 My void loves to sink 💧

My void loves to sink 💧 submitted by Additional_Ad_7896 to blackcats [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 Erutious The Door

I met my husband when we were in college together. I was working on my bachelor's degree, helping out in the library for some much needed extra cash, when I first laid eyes on him. He was not the usual sort of man I fancied, more bookish than muscly. I found him charming in his own way, and we struck up a friendship. He told me he was a writer, was working on a book of short stories to submit to a publishing house. I offered to read them, and from that moment on, I became his biggest fan.
His stories were so...visceral. He wrote not as a writer but as a first-hand observer, and it wasn't long before his work was noticed. We were living together by then, our library friendship having blossomed into something more, and I could see how giddy he was when the letter came from Bordwin Publishing. When he read how they wanted to publish his book, I think it was the proudest moment of his life.
He kept writing for Bordwin, his stories finding a niche with the horror community. He also started selling his pieces to magazines and online sources, getting his name out there, and becoming more recognizable. As his fame grew, however, he still jokingly called me his biggest fan. I couldn't argue with him; I genuinely loved his work. He wrote the sort of stories than were genuinely terrifying and enticed the reader to keep reading until the very end. As his stories grew in number, I found myself curious about where they all came from. My husband, we'll call him Michael, was a mild-mannered fellow who had never really experienced anything horrific in his life. He described his childhood as benign, with no broken bones or funny uncles. His family was loving and doted on him constantly. He had never been without. He had never really suffered, and I found myself very curious about where all these nightmares came from in such a beautiful mind.
Then, over drinks one night, he told me.
He didn't like to talk about it when sober. He always said that discussing the "creative process" was boring or that his stories' technical aspect would bore me to tears. I wasn't fooled, though. Beneath his jokes was something colder, something fearful. So one night, I pressed him. He still didn't really want to talk about it, but I was persistent. Finally, after a lot of coaxing and some strong whiskey, he all but blurted his answer to me.
I wish now I hadn't asked.
"Its The Door," he said, and at that moment, he seemed almost afraid of his own words.
"The Door?" I asked, confused by the queerness of his answer.
"What do you dream about?" he asked, so suddenly it took me by surprise.
"Oh, I don't know. Normal things, I guess. What I did that day and movies I've watched and weird things my mind cooks up."
"I have only ever had the same dream my entire life. It is always the same; it never changes. It is where I get all my ideas."
I leaned forward, intrigued by what he was telling me.
He seemed emboldened by my attention.
"The Door lies in space, at least I believe it must be space. It floats in a great void, and every night, I visit it. I float through this void naked, an umbilicus connecting me to whatever lies beyond. Every night, I approach the door, and every night it whispers to me through the keyhole. Do you remember the little journal by my bedside?"
I nodded.
"I have trained myself to write the things I hear while asleep. Sometimes I see pictures or faces when I look through the keyhole. Sometimes I hear terrible words spoken by creatures I imagine to be beyond description. Sometimes I have to close my eyes and will myself awake because I am afraid that the things they tell me will drive me insane. When I wake up, I read what I have written down, which becomes my stories."
I was shocked, "So, all your stories come from this big door in space?"
He smiled, "It sounds silly when you say it like that, but...yes. Everything I have ever written was spoken to me by something on the other side of this door."
I didn't think anything of it the next day. We had been drunk, and he had just spouted off something to make me shut up, I was sure. I became more aware of his journal, though. Sometimes at night, he would wake me up with the scritch scratch of his pen on the page. I didn't like to look at him when he was writing in it. It was like something otherworldly had taken his strings and was using him without his permission. Watching him write in that fugue state made me feel uncomfortable, and I took measures to not be awake while this was going on.
I didn't think anything of this, however, until about three months ago.
That was when he started having nightmares.
His work had always been creepy, always been terrifying, but now it took on an alarming quality. He began talking about creatures that lived beyond the door. These creatures sounded more than a little Lovecraftian, and he was assured that their presence on Earth was an afront to the natural order. They came and went, their arrival marked by some with great portents, and their battles had shaped history.
The stories weren't the only things that changed, though.
He began to sleep poorly. His sleep had always been placid, peaceful, but now he thrashed and mumbled in his sleep. He whispered in the night about a Pale Lady and The Green Man and Riotous Red that surged like blood. The words he wrote in his journal were unreadable, a foreign language, but he sat and transcribed them every morning like a dutiful follower of some religion.
He began to change. His eyes bore huge bags, he was jumpy and unsure of himself, and more than once, I caught him catnapping fitfully during the day. His writing, however, had never been more in demand. The magazines he wrote for wanted more stories about these strange old ones. His editor wanted to publish a compilation of them at once. He had no lack of material for the book, but I began to get worried about his health as he proceeded.
We had been married for two years then, just starting to make a life together, and I was afraid that his candle would burn out before mine.
I asked him one night to stop writing the stories. He was at his computer, typing away dutifully when I made the request. He turned his head to look at me, haunted eyes boring into mine, and laughed for the first time in weeks. It wasn't his laugh, though. The laughter was jagged and full of despair, humor shared only by the damned.
He laughed like a mad man.
"I cant. If I stop writing, They won't like it."
"Who?" I asked in confusion.
"The ones beyond the door. They have marked me as their chronicler, and I can't stop until the job is done."
"These things are killing you. Can't, you see that, Michael?"
He slumped over his keyboard, resting his head against it and making a line of letters as he did so.
"Don't you think I would if I could?" he snapped, and it was the first time I had ever heard him speak harshly to me, "If I could stop, I would. It would give me such joy to stop. The things they tell me..." he shuddered, "No one should know the things they tell me. Its fruit from the poisoned tree, and I wish I did not have what they give me."
"Then stop." I said suddenly, "Just stop writing it. Tell them that you refuse to write their story."
Michael looked horrified, "Refuse them? I have never refused a story before. What if...what if it stops the door from working?"
I turned him in his chair and pulled him to me, "The door is in your mind, love. The way it manifests is nothing more than your own mind working through your stories. The monsters are of your own making. You control them, they don't control you."
At that moment, he looked relieved. He hugged me back and seemed on the verge of tears. I don't think he had ever thought of these nightly excursions in anything but a literal sense. He had never imagined that these things could be of his own creation, and the knowledge made him feel free.
"I'll tell them tonight then." he said with a smile, "I'll tell them that I don't want to write about them anymore. I'll tell Fred that I don't want to continue these stories in the morning. He won't like it, but he'll understand."
We went to bed then, and I figured that would be the end of the nightmare.
I was wrong.
He woke me in the night, screaming. The back of his hand hit me in the face, and I rolled awake to the sound of his screams. He was thrashing around, clutching his stomach and kicking his legs frantically. I tried to wake him, I know everything says not to do that, but I wanted him to wake up. I slapped his face, threw water on him, screamed his name, but nothing worked. Someone banged on the door, but I ignored them. I tried in every way I knew to help my husband.
Finally, he helped himself.
We were in the ER, the knocking person had called the paramedics, and they had burst in. They thought someone was being murdered, but they loaded him up and took him straight to the hospital when they saw the scene. He lay in an Er bed, screaming and kicking until they finally restrained him. He went right on thrashing and yelling until nearly four in the morning.
Then he gasped loudly, like a diver coming up from a great depth, and seemed to come awake.
"They cut my umbilicus," he said in tones of most profound sorrow.
They moved him upstairs later that day. The doctor who talked to him was afraid he might hurt himself, and I was a little worried too. For the next two days, he sat strapped to a hospital bed, fighting sleep. He couldn't sleep, he told me, because he would have no way to get back without his umbilicus.
"I would be lost forever," he said, "and my consciousness would float forever in that void."
He told me how he had told the thing behind the door that he would no longer write its story. I had assured him that it was all in his head, that it was a product of his imagination. When it had burst through the door and screamed, he knew it was all too real. He had run then, fled across the void, but the creature had wings, and it had chased him.
"It...it defies description. Its legs were equine, its head looked like a living rock, its body was made of stars...I don't know, dear. Its mouth was full of firey teeth, and when it lunged at me, I could do nothing but flee."
As he had run, the thing had slashed at him. The clawed hand had torn at his umbilicus. Michael said a pain like a rending scythe had torn through his belly, and as he writhed, he could see the firey teeth sever the root from him. He had caught the end then, using the last of his strength to grab the trailing end, and pulled himself out of that dark place a little at a time.
He was afraid after that, afraid to go back.
Afraid of what might be waiting for him.
He fought sleep for the next three days. He would nod and awaken, nod, and awaken, but it seemed harder for him to come back every time. He begged his doctor for caffeine pills, anything to keep him awake, but the doctors thought sleep would do him better than drugs. They fiddled with the idea of sedating him, but I forbade it. When they threatened to get the police involved, thinking I was somehow responsible for this, I threatened to call a lawyer. Finally, we reached a shaky standoff.
It was mute after the third day.
I lost the fight first, drifting off as I sat by his side.
When I awoke, he was gone.
He's in the ICU now. His coma is deep, and the doctors are afraid he might have suffered a stroke. They don't know about his nightly travels, wouldn't believe me if I told them, but I know what has happened to him. He's adrift in the void, maybe already dead at the hands of this elder thing, and there is nothing I can do to get him back.
But maybe there is something you all can do.
My husband could not have been the only one traveling to this place. Some of you must have heard the whispers through the door as well. If you see this door, and if you find my husband, please bring him back. I don't know how you would, but please try.
And if the creatures on the other side of the door talk to you about these things on the other side, please do your self a favor and listen to them.
I wish I had never told him to stop listening.
The price you pay for ignoring them might be your life.
The price might even be steeper than that.
submitted by Erutious to SignalHorrorFiction [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 crenol McMaster CS/SE Supplementary Application

I just finished my video interview a few hours back and according to the email from McMaster, I should've received an email from Kira saying I've completed it. But it hasn't shown up. Do some of you have a similar problem? Should I contact them just to confirm?
submitted by crenol to OntarioUniversities [link] [comments]

2022.01.26 20:36 ParsnipBusy Sigh I gave her like 4 chances…

Sigh I gave her like 4 chances… submitted by ParsnipBusy to Mercari [link] [comments]