Indian grocery near me
Vegetarian
2008.09.08 02:21 Vegetarian
Welcome to vegetarian, the community for anyone interested in a vegetarian diet. You don't need to be vegetarian to participate, but please respect that most of us are by keeping on topic and refraining from encouragement of non-vegetarian food. We are mostly US-based & follow the definition of vegetarian here which may include dairy and/or eggs. Please read the rules & learn about Reddiquette before posting. Recipes are required for all posts involving photos of home-cooked meals.
2016.09.05 20:15 johnabbe No Dakota Access Pipeline #NoDAPL #WaterIsLife #NoBakken
This sub is for organizing to protect water, sacred sites, the climate, and more from the Dakota Access Pipeline. It's also about why we're opposing it, what we're for, who we are, how we're winning, the latest news, and perhaps most importantly, how you can get involved.
2023.03.28 10:59 Milhaud Alaska, 49th State - This map was published by Time magazine just one month before the approval in congress
 | submitted by Milhaud to MapPorn [link] [comments] |
2023.03.28 10:58 WeirdBryceGuy Friendship in Perpetuity
Like a sentient shadow, I followed the old man through the mist-laden cemetery. I knew his route, knew where he’d end up after checking the grave plots: the little shack in the center of the grounds, illumined by a single, sallow-tinted lamp. Sticking by the towering headstones, I watched as he meticulously checked each and every resting place; noting curiously how he’d utter certain unintelligible phrases for seemingly random occupants. He was old but spry, moving with a dexterous delicateness more befitting a dancer than a caretaker. I had no desire to be spotted by the enigmatic groundskeeper.
The night was relatively young, the moon having just come out; and yet a mortuary silence had already befallen the graveyard. There were no sounds of nocturnal life, no distant thrum of traffic. Only the forlorn sighing of the wind as it weakly raked through the bent trees and lichen monoliths. The air was potently earthy, the rain-sodden soil practically aromatic. It was pleasant, refreshing - helped to settle my nerves. Trespassing, Burglary. illegal disinterment. The potential charges against me were more than a little nerve-wracking
The old man inspected the final headstone and nodded, apparently satisfied with its condition. I ducked behind a short, cobweb-strewn headstone as he swept his lantern across the grounds one last time. Silently, he headed towards the shack, and I resumed my stealthy pursuit.
I let him enter and close the door, then made my way to the mausoleum in the rear of the grounds. My work would take quite some time, and I needed to be sure that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the prying old caretaker. I could’ve knocked him out, or sent him on some errand appropriate for his vocation; but he was just a man doing his job, and didn’t deserve any undue trouble. Also, I had a creeping suspicion that he’d be more than able to handle himself if things became physically confrontational.
Reaching the mausoleum, I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack and cast its beam onto the iron wrought gate. The foyer beyond was clean, having recently been swept. In the center of the room was the short staircase which led into the lower crypt – my destination.
A deeper silence seemed to fall over the night as I withdrew the bolt cutters from my bag. There was no thunder with which to time the sounds of my burglary; no squawking birds to mask the padlock’s destruction. I just had hope that the man’s ears were more in line with his age than his body was.
I caught the padlock before it could fall onto the marmoreal floor. I waited a few moments to see if the metallic crunch of its forced disrepair had been heard, and then proceeded. Ordinarily I would've been unnerved by the deathly stillness, by the omnipresence of the innominate dead; but I was on a mission of friendship and couldn’t afford to admit cowardice into my heart. No longer needing them, I returned the bolt cutters to my bag and pocketed the broken padlock. Ignoring the gold-emblazoned shelves, I headed down the stairs toward the lower crypts.
I found my friend’s resting place amid the vaults fairly quickly, given the myriad shelves and recesses. He’d shown me where he was to be buried, years ago – before his untimely death. He’d been put to rest near his other family members: aunts and uncles and grandparents of cycles past. The family owned the entirety of the mausoleum, having held an almost questionably rich lineage for centuries.
Carefully, reverently, I withdrew his casket from its cloth-draped alcove and set it on the floor. The wood had not yet lost its luster. I took a moment to steady my hands and settle my nerves, then undid the casket’s latch. It had not been bolted shut, and the lid came away freely with a soft sigh of escaping air. Inside lay my friend, who – like the casket – had not yet succumbed to any noticeable decay. His face bore the lacquer-like sheen of mortuary preparation but was otherwise unblemished.
Almost absentmindedly, I bent forward and brushed away some specks of dust from his jacket. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time, but since descending the stairs I had begun to operate under the pseudo-automation of someone presented with a truly unthinkable occurrence. Sure, I’d attended the funeral and had helped lay him to rest; but seeing him there, so privately and intimately, among the bones of the long-dead – it was a whole other experience, and I entered something that resembled a somnambulistic state.
The sound of metal grating against metal shook me from my solemn stupor. I knew at once what the sound meant, but I wanted to believe otherwise. As carefully as I could manage whilst still hurrying, I set the lid back on the casket – as if there were tomb vermin waiting in the shadows to devour his corpse – and quietly tip-toed up the steps. Despite having literally stood among the dead, I felt my first pang of horror upon seeing the mausoleum’s gate shut – and affixed with a new padlock.
Calling out and announcing myself would’ve foiled my plans entirely; and I would’ve doubtlessly ended up in a different kind of cell that very night. So, I refrained from shouting out and altering the caretaker of my (illegal) presence. I also reasoned that given his failure to investigate the interior of the tomb, the caretaker had probably been aware of my trespassing for some time and was simply keeping me locked up for the authorities.
Without any other option than to proceed as planned, I returned to my friend’s body.
Setting the lid aside, I lifted his body from the casket and set it atop the lid. I involuntarily cringed, seeing nothing yet anticipating an outpour of rats, or a writhing mound of fat worms, bloated with carrion. The funeral sterility of the place had yet to cement itself in my mind. I still expected the earthy grimness of above to be reflected below.
I took off my pack and set it on the ground, just beside my friend’s head. I removed the only other object I’d brought: a large jar, its surface filmy with a greenish grey residue. In the light of my flashlight – which I’d placed atop the rim of the casket – the jar’s contents seemed to glow. I unscrewed the cap and turned away, knowing the malodorous stench would make me ill. Once the fumes had cleared, I used a finger to stir its contents. The consistency was like jelly, though the stuff was disconcertingly warm; had not dropped a single degree in temperature since its preparation hours earlier.
Once the substance was appropriately thin – now more akin to a semi-thick yogurt – I set the jar down and went to work on my friend. First, I removed my jacket and propped his head beneath it for a makeshift pillow. Then, with infinite gentleness I pried open his lips, thankful that his eyes were closed. To have to look into them while I manipulated his corpse – however reverently – would've been too much. Once the lips were sufficiently parted, I grabbed the jar and tilted its opening into the agape orifice. The liquid flowed easily enough, continuing down my friend’s throat unimpeded. Had he been alive, he would’ve become almost immediately sick and vomited everywhere. The stuff was utterly unpalatable by living men – I had tried it out of morbid curiosity before embarking on my sepulchral quest.
When it was empty, I put the jar back into my bag and laid my friend’s head back down on the lid. I didn’t want to watch what happened next, didn’t need to – having the utmost confidence in the efficacy of the elixir.
I tidied up the area as best as I could and climbed into the casket – facing up at the shadowy ceiling. I knew it would take a few minutes for the stuff to work, so I tried to listen for any strange or peculiar sounds in the gloom. The place was utterly quiet, my breathing so loud in the stillness that it softly echoed ceilingward. Motes of dust – born of what I hoped was time-crumbled stone, and not human remains – floated into the scope of my flashlight, reminding me of a campfire billowing with ashes. A camping trip with him, during which we’d discussed everything from girlfriends to mathematical ontology. Memories I’d soon forget – but, hopefully, only temporarily.
A soft sound. The twitch of a finger, the subsequent scratch of the nail moving across the wood of the coffin lid. I tried to force a blankness of mind –attempted to re-enter that state of mental nihility into which I’d slipped earlier. More sounds: rustling clothes, the release of long-trapped air from death-stiffened joints. Panic warred with a mounting calmness in my mind. My resolve was settled, but I was still human; fear was still a powerful motivator toward self-preservation.
But in the end, I managed to lapse back into that state of near thoughtlessness. As my friend’s pallid face suddenly summited the surface of the casket, entering my field of vision illumined by the flashlight, I settled into the comfortable abyss of vacuous acceptance. I felt neither the pressure nor the coldness of the still-rigid fingers as they gripped my neck; no pain accompanied the piercing of my neck by his dry teeth. I smelled the coppery aroma of my own blood as it burst from my neck, but the sensation was otherwise unremarkable.
I kept a smile on my face as my friend feasted on my body. Relief filtered through me even as my hot blood washed over me. The necromantic brew had worked! My friend had been reanimated and would use me to restore to himself a semblance of his humanity; at least enough to where he could consciously procure more subjects to further support himself.
I’d promised him in his final days of cancerous ruin that I wouldn’t let him simply die - wouldn’t let his wonderful spirit be lost to the nether-realm, or oblivion, or wherever souls end up following the body’s death. But I wasn’t ready to let myself succumb to such a fate, either. So, shortly after we’d buried him I sought out and employed a surprisingly local necromancer to concoct a potion that would allow my friend to be brought back to life; but would also anchor me to that same corporeal revenancy, using my very being as sustenance for his lichdom.
Now, my friend and I exist as one. Twin-bound souls in a single body. My flesh filled his belly, but my mind was transferred to his brain. I pilot the flesh, while the vestiges of his spirit await rebirth in the deeper recesses of our shared mind. Together, we’ll seek out others, and with their consent we’ll feast upon their flesh. Their minds won’t be preserved. We’ll use them as spiritual kindling, so to speak. To bolster our own psychic vitality. But we won’t seek out anyone who’d want to join this twofold collective.
There are plenty of people who desire death, and haven’t the slightest care how it’s achieved, so long as the hand that deals it is not their own. Some are simply too afraid, incapable of inflicting upon themselves an injury severe enough to be fatal. Others refuse to, no matter how strong a desire, due to the inability to ask for religious forgiveness following their demise. In that case, I’d imagine the intent would suffice as being sinful enough, regardless of whom dealt the harm. But I’m no theologian and wouldn’t argue with the logic of a consenting collaborator.
Oh, I suppose it’s worth mentioning that upon our exit from the tomb, we were greeted by none other than the caretaker, who’d taken up watch of the mausoleum from the shadows – not the hut. Apparently, he’d known of my mission; had been made aware of it by the very same necromancer whose services I had used. The furtive alchemist had forewarned him of my arrival, in fact. I wasn’t surprised. Their vocations, though seemingly at odds, do intersect in certain charnel ways. The caretaker locking me inside had been for our own protection – in the event that someone came along to pay their respects to my friend before we could.... regain our composure.
I later returned and paid the thoughtful watchman enough for two padlocks, since my friend and I had broken the second in our somewhat Frankensteinian exit of the crypt.
A body cohabitated by two spirits requires a great deal of rest, so I will end this tale here. I look forward to spending a shared life with my friend, once he awakens from his incorporeal chrysalis. I can feel him dreaming, though I can’t peer into the ether of his nascent mind.
Soon, though. We’ll peer into each other’s thoughts, and I’ll once again hold the memories I’ve yet to recover. I’d thought that digesting my own brain would provide me with the memories lost in the transference, but I guess necrophagic neurobiology isn’t an exact science....
submitted by WeirdBryceGuy to HFY [link] [comments]
The night was relatively young, the moon having just come out; and yet a mortuary silence had already befallen the graveyard. There were no sounds of nocturnal life, no distant thrum of traffic. Only the forlorn sighing of the wind as it weakly raked through the bent trees and lichen monoliths. The air was potently earthy, the rain-sodden soil practically aromatic. It was pleasant, refreshing - helped to settle my nerves. Trespassing, Burglary. illegal disinterment. The potential charges against me were more than a little nerve-wracking
The old man inspected the final headstone and nodded, apparently satisfied with its condition. I ducked behind a short, cobweb-strewn headstone as he swept his lantern across the grounds one last time. Silently, he headed towards the shack, and I resumed my stealthy pursuit.
I let him enter and close the door, then made my way to the mausoleum in the rear of the grounds. My work would take quite some time, and I needed to be sure that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the prying old caretaker. I could’ve knocked him out, or sent him on some errand appropriate for his vocation; but he was just a man doing his job, and didn’t deserve any undue trouble. Also, I had a creeping suspicion that he’d be more than able to handle himself if things became physically confrontational.
Reaching the mausoleum, I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack and cast its beam onto the iron wrought gate. The foyer beyond was clean, having recently been swept. In the center of the room was the short staircase which led into the lower crypt – my destination.
A deeper silence seemed to fall over the night as I withdrew the bolt cutters from my bag. There was no thunder with which to time the sounds of my burglary; no squawking birds to mask the padlock’s destruction. I just had hope that the man’s ears were more in line with his age than his body was.
I caught the padlock before it could fall onto the marmoreal floor. I waited a few moments to see if the metallic crunch of its forced disrepair had been heard, and then proceeded. Ordinarily I would've been unnerved by the deathly stillness, by the omnipresence of the innominate dead; but I was on a mission of friendship and couldn’t afford to admit cowardice into my heart. No longer needing them, I returned the bolt cutters to my bag and pocketed the broken padlock. Ignoring the gold-emblazoned shelves, I headed down the stairs toward the lower crypts.
I found my friend’s resting place amid the vaults fairly quickly, given the myriad shelves and recesses. He’d shown me where he was to be buried, years ago – before his untimely death. He’d been put to rest near his other family members: aunts and uncles and grandparents of cycles past. The family owned the entirety of the mausoleum, having held an almost questionably rich lineage for centuries.
Carefully, reverently, I withdrew his casket from its cloth-draped alcove and set it on the floor. The wood had not yet lost its luster. I took a moment to steady my hands and settle my nerves, then undid the casket’s latch. It had not been bolted shut, and the lid came away freely with a soft sigh of escaping air. Inside lay my friend, who – like the casket – had not yet succumbed to any noticeable decay. His face bore the lacquer-like sheen of mortuary preparation but was otherwise unblemished.
Almost absentmindedly, I bent forward and brushed away some specks of dust from his jacket. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time, but since descending the stairs I had begun to operate under the pseudo-automation of someone presented with a truly unthinkable occurrence. Sure, I’d attended the funeral and had helped lay him to rest; but seeing him there, so privately and intimately, among the bones of the long-dead – it was a whole other experience, and I entered something that resembled a somnambulistic state.
The sound of metal grating against metal shook me from my solemn stupor. I knew at once what the sound meant, but I wanted to believe otherwise. As carefully as I could manage whilst still hurrying, I set the lid back on the casket – as if there were tomb vermin waiting in the shadows to devour his corpse – and quietly tip-toed up the steps. Despite having literally stood among the dead, I felt my first pang of horror upon seeing the mausoleum’s gate shut – and affixed with a new padlock.
Calling out and announcing myself would’ve foiled my plans entirely; and I would’ve doubtlessly ended up in a different kind of cell that very night. So, I refrained from shouting out and altering the caretaker of my (illegal) presence. I also reasoned that given his failure to investigate the interior of the tomb, the caretaker had probably been aware of my trespassing for some time and was simply keeping me locked up for the authorities.
Without any other option than to proceed as planned, I returned to my friend’s body.
Setting the lid aside, I lifted his body from the casket and set it atop the lid. I involuntarily cringed, seeing nothing yet anticipating an outpour of rats, or a writhing mound of fat worms, bloated with carrion. The funeral sterility of the place had yet to cement itself in my mind. I still expected the earthy grimness of above to be reflected below.
I took off my pack and set it on the ground, just beside my friend’s head. I removed the only other object I’d brought: a large jar, its surface filmy with a greenish grey residue. In the light of my flashlight – which I’d placed atop the rim of the casket – the jar’s contents seemed to glow. I unscrewed the cap and turned away, knowing the malodorous stench would make me ill. Once the fumes had cleared, I used a finger to stir its contents. The consistency was like jelly, though the stuff was disconcertingly warm; had not dropped a single degree in temperature since its preparation hours earlier.
Once the substance was appropriately thin – now more akin to a semi-thick yogurt – I set the jar down and went to work on my friend. First, I removed my jacket and propped his head beneath it for a makeshift pillow. Then, with infinite gentleness I pried open his lips, thankful that his eyes were closed. To have to look into them while I manipulated his corpse – however reverently – would've been too much. Once the lips were sufficiently parted, I grabbed the jar and tilted its opening into the agape orifice. The liquid flowed easily enough, continuing down my friend’s throat unimpeded. Had he been alive, he would’ve become almost immediately sick and vomited everywhere. The stuff was utterly unpalatable by living men – I had tried it out of morbid curiosity before embarking on my sepulchral quest.
When it was empty, I put the jar back into my bag and laid my friend’s head back down on the lid. I didn’t want to watch what happened next, didn’t need to – having the utmost confidence in the efficacy of the elixir.
I tidied up the area as best as I could and climbed into the casket – facing up at the shadowy ceiling. I knew it would take a few minutes for the stuff to work, so I tried to listen for any strange or peculiar sounds in the gloom. The place was utterly quiet, my breathing so loud in the stillness that it softly echoed ceilingward. Motes of dust – born of what I hoped was time-crumbled stone, and not human remains – floated into the scope of my flashlight, reminding me of a campfire billowing with ashes. A camping trip with him, during which we’d discussed everything from girlfriends to mathematical ontology. Memories I’d soon forget – but, hopefully, only temporarily.
A soft sound. The twitch of a finger, the subsequent scratch of the nail moving across the wood of the coffin lid. I tried to force a blankness of mind –attempted to re-enter that state of mental nihility into which I’d slipped earlier. More sounds: rustling clothes, the release of long-trapped air from death-stiffened joints. Panic warred with a mounting calmness in my mind. My resolve was settled, but I was still human; fear was still a powerful motivator toward self-preservation.
But in the end, I managed to lapse back into that state of near thoughtlessness. As my friend’s pallid face suddenly summited the surface of the casket, entering my field of vision illumined by the flashlight, I settled into the comfortable abyss of vacuous acceptance. I felt neither the pressure nor the coldness of the still-rigid fingers as they gripped my neck; no pain accompanied the piercing of my neck by his dry teeth. I smelled the coppery aroma of my own blood as it burst from my neck, but the sensation was otherwise unremarkable.
I kept a smile on my face as my friend feasted on my body. Relief filtered through me even as my hot blood washed over me. The necromantic brew had worked! My friend had been reanimated and would use me to restore to himself a semblance of his humanity; at least enough to where he could consciously procure more subjects to further support himself.
I’d promised him in his final days of cancerous ruin that I wouldn’t let him simply die - wouldn’t let his wonderful spirit be lost to the nether-realm, or oblivion, or wherever souls end up following the body’s death. But I wasn’t ready to let myself succumb to such a fate, either. So, shortly after we’d buried him I sought out and employed a surprisingly local necromancer to concoct a potion that would allow my friend to be brought back to life; but would also anchor me to that same corporeal revenancy, using my very being as sustenance for his lichdom.
Now, my friend and I exist as one. Twin-bound souls in a single body. My flesh filled his belly, but my mind was transferred to his brain. I pilot the flesh, while the vestiges of his spirit await rebirth in the deeper recesses of our shared mind. Together, we’ll seek out others, and with their consent we’ll feast upon their flesh. Their minds won’t be preserved. We’ll use them as spiritual kindling, so to speak. To bolster our own psychic vitality. But we won’t seek out anyone who’d want to join this twofold collective.
There are plenty of people who desire death, and haven’t the slightest care how it’s achieved, so long as the hand that deals it is not their own. Some are simply too afraid, incapable of inflicting upon themselves an injury severe enough to be fatal. Others refuse to, no matter how strong a desire, due to the inability to ask for religious forgiveness following their demise. In that case, I’d imagine the intent would suffice as being sinful enough, regardless of whom dealt the harm. But I’m no theologian and wouldn’t argue with the logic of a consenting collaborator.
Oh, I suppose it’s worth mentioning that upon our exit from the tomb, we were greeted by none other than the caretaker, who’d taken up watch of the mausoleum from the shadows – not the hut. Apparently, he’d known of my mission; had been made aware of it by the very same necromancer whose services I had used. The furtive alchemist had forewarned him of my arrival, in fact. I wasn’t surprised. Their vocations, though seemingly at odds, do intersect in certain charnel ways. The caretaker locking me inside had been for our own protection – in the event that someone came along to pay their respects to my friend before we could.... regain our composure.
I later returned and paid the thoughtful watchman enough for two padlocks, since my friend and I had broken the second in our somewhat Frankensteinian exit of the crypt.
A body cohabitated by two spirits requires a great deal of rest, so I will end this tale here. I look forward to spending a shared life with my friend, once he awakens from his incorporeal chrysalis. I can feel him dreaming, though I can’t peer into the ether of his nascent mind.
Soon, though. We’ll peer into each other’s thoughts, and I’ll once again hold the memories I’ve yet to recover. I’d thought that digesting my own brain would provide me with the memories lost in the transference, but I guess necrophagic neurobiology isn’t an exact science....
2023.03.28 10:57 WeirdBryceGuy Friendship in Perpetuity
Like a sentient shadow, I followed the old man through the mist-laden cemetery. I knew his route, knew where he’d end up after checking the grave plots: the little shack in the center of the grounds, illumined by a single, sallow-tinted lamp. Sticking by the towering headstones, I watched as he meticulously checked each and every resting place; noting curiously how he’d utter certain unintelligible phrases for seemingly random occupants. He was old but spry, moving with a dexterous delicateness more befitting a dancer than a caretaker. I had no desire to be spotted by the enigmatic groundskeeper.
The night was relatively young, the moon having just come out; and yet a mortuary silence had already befallen the graveyard. There were no sounds of nocturnal life, no distant thrum of traffic. Only the forlorn sighing of the wind as it weakly raked through the bent trees and lichen monoliths. The air was potently earthy, the rain-sodden soil practically aromatic. It was pleasant, refreshing - helped to settle my nerves. Trespassing, Burglary. illegal disinterment. The potential charges against me were more than a little nerve-wracking
The old man inspected the final headstone and nodded, apparently satisfied with its condition. I ducked behind a short, cobweb-strewn headstone as he swept his lantern across the grounds one last time. Silently, he headed towards the shack, and I resumed my stealthy pursuit.
I let him enter and close the door, then made my way to the mausoleum in the rear of the grounds. My work would take quite some time, and I needed to be sure that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the prying old caretaker. I could’ve knocked him out, or sent him on some errand appropriate for his vocation; but he was just a man doing his job, and didn’t deserve any undue trouble. Also, I had a creeping suspicion that he’d be more than able to handle himself if things became physically confrontational.
Reaching the mausoleum, I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack and cast its beam onto the iron wrought gate. The foyer beyond was clean, having recently been swept. In the center of the room was the short staircase which led into the lower crypt – my destination.
A deeper silence seemed to fall over the night as I withdrew the bolt cutters from my bag. There was no thunder with which to time the sounds of my burglary; no squawking birds to mask the padlock’s destruction. I just had hope that the man’s ears were more in line with his age than his body was.
I caught the padlock before it could fall onto the marmoreal floor. I waited a few moments to see if the metallic crunch of its forced disrepair had been heard, and then proceeded. Ordinarily I would've been unnerved by the deathly stillness, by the omnipresence of the innominate dead; but I was on a mission of friendship and couldn’t afford to admit cowardice into my heart. No longer needing them, I returned the bolt cutters to my bag and pocketed the broken padlock. Ignoring the gold-emblazoned shelves, I headed down the stairs toward the lower crypts.
I found my friend’s resting place amid the vaults fairly quickly, given the myriad shelves and recesses. He’d shown me where he was to be buried, years ago – before his untimely death. He’d been put to rest near his other family members: aunts and uncles and grandparents of cycles past. The family owned the entirety of the mausoleum, having held an almost questionably rich lineage for centuries.
Carefully, reverently, I withdrew his casket from its cloth-draped alcove and set it on the floor. The wood had not yet lost its luster. I took a moment to steady my hands and settle my nerves, then undid the casket’s latch. It had not been bolted shut, and the lid came away freely with a soft sigh of escaping air. Inside lay my friend, who – like the casket – had not yet succumbed to any noticeable decay. His face bore the lacquer-like sheen of mortuary preparation but was otherwise unblemished.
Almost absentmindedly, I bent forward and brushed away some specks of dust from his jacket. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time, but since descending the stairs I had begun to operate under the pseudo-automation of someone presented with a truly unthinkable occurrence. Sure, I’d attended the funeral and had helped lay him to rest; but seeing him there, so privately and intimately, among the bones of the long-dead – it was a whole other experience, and I entered something that resembled a somnambulistic state.
The sound of metal grating against metal shook me from my solemn stupor. I knew at once what the sound meant, but I wanted to believe otherwise. As carefully as I could manage whilst still hurrying, I set the lid back on the casket – as if there were tomb vermin waiting in the shadows to devour his corpse – and quietly tip-toed up the steps. Despite having literally stood among the dead, I felt my first pang of horror upon seeing the mausoleum’s gate shut – and affixed with a new padlock.
Calling out and announcing myself would’ve foiled my plans entirely; and I would’ve doubtlessly ended up in a different kind of cell that very night. So, I refrained from shouting out and altering the caretaker of my (illegal) presence. I also reasoned that given his failure to investigate the interior of the tomb, the caretaker had probably been aware of my trespassing for some time and was simply keeping me locked up for the authorities.
Without any other option than to proceed as planned, I returned to my friend’s body.
Setting the lid aside, I lifted his body from the casket and set it atop the lid. I involuntarily cringed, seeing nothing yet anticipating an outpour of rats, or a writhing mound of fat worms, bloated with carrion. The funeral sterility of the place had yet to cement itself in my mind. I still expected the earthy grimness of above to be reflected below.
I took off my pack and set it on the ground, just beside my friend’s head. I removed the only other object I’d brought: a large jar, its surface filmy with a greenish grey residue. In the light of my flashlight – which I’d placed atop the rim of the casket – the jar’s contents seemed to glow. I unscrewed the cap and turned away, knowing the malodorous stench would make me ill. Once the fumes had cleared, I used a finger to stir its contents. The consistency was like jelly, though the stuff was disconcertingly warm; had not dropped a single degree in temperature since its preparation hours earlier.
Once the substance was appropriately thin – now more akin to a semi-thick yogurt – I set the jar down and went to work on my friend. First, I removed my jacket and propped his head beneath it for a makeshift pillow. Then, with infinite gentleness I pried open his lips, thankful that his eyes were closed. To have to look into them while I manipulated his corpse – however reverently – would've been too much. Once the lips were sufficiently parted, I grabbed the jar and tilted its opening into the agape orifice. The liquid flowed easily enough, continuing down my friend’s throat unimpeded. Had he been alive, he would’ve become almost immediately sick and vomited everywhere. The stuff was utterly unpalatable by living men – I had tried it out of morbid curiosity before embarking on my sepulchral quest.
When it was empty, I put the jar back into my bag and laid my friend’s head back down on the lid. I didn’t want to watch what happened next, didn’t need to – having the utmost confidence in the efficacy of the elixir.
I tidied up the area as best as I could and climbed into the casket – facing up at the shadowy ceiling. I knew it would take a few minutes for the stuff to work, so I tried to listen for any strange or peculiar sounds in the gloom. The place was utterly quiet, my breathing so loud in the stillness that it softly echoed ceilingward. Motes of dust – born of what I hoped was time-crumbled stone, and not human remains – floated into the scope of my flashlight, reminding me of a campfire billowing with ashes. A camping trip with him, during which we’d discussed everything from girlfriends to mathematical ontology. Memories I’d soon forget – but, hopefully, only temporarily.
A soft sound. The twitch of a finger, the subsequent scratch of the nail moving across the wood of the coffin lid. I tried to force a blankness of mind –attempted to re-enter that state of mental nihility into which I’d slipped earlier. More sounds: rustling clothes, the release of long-trapped air from death-stiffened joints. Panic warred with a mounting calmness in my mind. My resolve was settled, but I was still human; fear was still a powerful motivator toward self-preservation.
But in the end, I managed to lapse back into that state of near thoughtlessness. As my friend’s pallid face suddenly summited the surface of the casket, entering my field of vision illumined by the flashlight, I settled into the comfortable abyss of vacuous acceptance. I felt neither the pressure nor the coldness of the still-rigid fingers as they gripped my neck; no pain accompanied the piercing of my neck by his dry teeth. I smelled the coppery aroma of my own blood as it burst from my neck, but the sensation was otherwise unremarkable.
I kept a smile on my face as my friend feasted on my body. Relief filtered through me even as my hot blood washed over me. The necromantic brew had worked! My friend had been reanimated and would use me to restore to himself a semblance of his humanity; at least enough to where he could consciously procure more subjects to further support himself.
I’d promised him in his final days of cancerous ruin that I wouldn’t let him simply die - wouldn’t let his wonderful spirit be lost to the nether-realm, or oblivion, or wherever souls end up following the body’s death. But I wasn’t ready to let myself succumb to such a fate, either. So, shortly after we’d buried him I sought out and employed a surprisingly local necromancer to concoct a potion that would allow my friend to be brought back to life; but would also anchor me to that same corporeal revenancy, using my very being as sustenance for his lichdom.
Now, my friend and I exist as one. Twin-bound souls in a single body. My flesh filled his belly, but my mind was transferred to his brain. I pilot the flesh, while the vestiges of his spirit await rebirth in the deeper recesses of our shared mind. Together, we’ll seek out others, and with their consent we’ll feast upon their flesh. Their minds won’t be preserved. We’ll use them as spiritual kindling, so to speak. To bolster our own psychic vitality. But we won’t seek out anyone who’d want to join this twofold collective.
There are plenty of people who desire death, and haven’t the slightest care how it’s achieved, so long as the hand that deals it is not their own. Some are simply too afraid, incapable of inflicting upon themselves an injury severe enough to be fatal. Others refuse to, no matter how strong a desire, due to the inability to ask for religious forgiveness following their demise. In that case, I’d imagine the intent would suffice as being sinful enough, regardless of whom dealt the harm. But I’m no theologian and wouldn’t argue with the logic of a consenting collaborator.
Oh, I suppose it’s worth mentioning that upon our exit from the tomb, we were greeted by none other than the caretaker, who’d taken up watch of the mausoleum from the shadows – not the hut. Apparently, he’d known of my mission; had been made aware of it by the very same necromancer whose services I had used. The furtive alchemist had forewarned him of my arrival, in fact. I wasn’t surprised. Their vocations, though seemingly at odds, do intersect in certain charnel ways. The caretaker locking me inside had been for our own protection – in the event that someone came along to pay their respects to my friend before we could.... regain our composure.
I later returned and paid the thoughtful watchman enough for two padlocks, since my friend and I had broken the second in our somewhat Frankensteinian exit of the crypt.
A body cohabitated by two spirits requires a great deal of rest, so I will end this tale here. I look forward to spending a shared life with my friend, once he awakens from his incorporeal chrysalis. I can feel him dreaming, though I can’t peer into the ether of his nascent mind.
Soon, though. We’ll peer into each other’s thoughts, and I’ll once again hold the memories I’ve yet to recover. I’d thought that digesting my own brain would provide me with the memories lost in the transference, but I guess necrophagic neurobiology isn’t an exact science....
submitted by WeirdBryceGuy to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]
The night was relatively young, the moon having just come out; and yet a mortuary silence had already befallen the graveyard. There were no sounds of nocturnal life, no distant thrum of traffic. Only the forlorn sighing of the wind as it weakly raked through the bent trees and lichen monoliths. The air was potently earthy, the rain-sodden soil practically aromatic. It was pleasant, refreshing - helped to settle my nerves. Trespassing, Burglary. illegal disinterment. The potential charges against me were more than a little nerve-wracking
The old man inspected the final headstone and nodded, apparently satisfied with its condition. I ducked behind a short, cobweb-strewn headstone as he swept his lantern across the grounds one last time. Silently, he headed towards the shack, and I resumed my stealthy pursuit.
I let him enter and close the door, then made my way to the mausoleum in the rear of the grounds. My work would take quite some time, and I needed to be sure that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the prying old caretaker. I could’ve knocked him out, or sent him on some errand appropriate for his vocation; but he was just a man doing his job, and didn’t deserve any undue trouble. Also, I had a creeping suspicion that he’d be more than able to handle himself if things became physically confrontational.
Reaching the mausoleum, I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack and cast its beam onto the iron wrought gate. The foyer beyond was clean, having recently been swept. In the center of the room was the short staircase which led into the lower crypt – my destination.
A deeper silence seemed to fall over the night as I withdrew the bolt cutters from my bag. There was no thunder with which to time the sounds of my burglary; no squawking birds to mask the padlock’s destruction. I just had hope that the man’s ears were more in line with his age than his body was.
I caught the padlock before it could fall onto the marmoreal floor. I waited a few moments to see if the metallic crunch of its forced disrepair had been heard, and then proceeded. Ordinarily I would've been unnerved by the deathly stillness, by the omnipresence of the innominate dead; but I was on a mission of friendship and couldn’t afford to admit cowardice into my heart. No longer needing them, I returned the bolt cutters to my bag and pocketed the broken padlock. Ignoring the gold-emblazoned shelves, I headed down the stairs toward the lower crypts.
I found my friend’s resting place amid the vaults fairly quickly, given the myriad shelves and recesses. He’d shown me where he was to be buried, years ago – before his untimely death. He’d been put to rest near his other family members: aunts and uncles and grandparents of cycles past. The family owned the entirety of the mausoleum, having held an almost questionably rich lineage for centuries.
Carefully, reverently, I withdrew his casket from its cloth-draped alcove and set it on the floor. The wood had not yet lost its luster. I took a moment to steady my hands and settle my nerves, then undid the casket’s latch. It had not been bolted shut, and the lid came away freely with a soft sigh of escaping air. Inside lay my friend, who – like the casket – had not yet succumbed to any noticeable decay. His face bore the lacquer-like sheen of mortuary preparation but was otherwise unblemished.
Almost absentmindedly, I bent forward and brushed away some specks of dust from his jacket. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time, but since descending the stairs I had begun to operate under the pseudo-automation of someone presented with a truly unthinkable occurrence. Sure, I’d attended the funeral and had helped lay him to rest; but seeing him there, so privately and intimately, among the bones of the long-dead – it was a whole other experience, and I entered something that resembled a somnambulistic state.
The sound of metal grating against metal shook me from my solemn stupor. I knew at once what the sound meant, but I wanted to believe otherwise. As carefully as I could manage whilst still hurrying, I set the lid back on the casket – as if there were tomb vermin waiting in the shadows to devour his corpse – and quietly tip-toed up the steps. Despite having literally stood among the dead, I felt my first pang of horror upon seeing the mausoleum’s gate shut – and affixed with a new padlock.
Calling out and announcing myself would’ve foiled my plans entirely; and I would’ve doubtlessly ended up in a different kind of cell that very night. So, I refrained from shouting out and altering the caretaker of my (illegal) presence. I also reasoned that given his failure to investigate the interior of the tomb, the caretaker had probably been aware of my trespassing for some time and was simply keeping me locked up for the authorities.
Without any other option than to proceed as planned, I returned to my friend’s body.
Setting the lid aside, I lifted his body from the casket and set it atop the lid. I involuntarily cringed, seeing nothing yet anticipating an outpour of rats, or a writhing mound of fat worms, bloated with carrion. The funeral sterility of the place had yet to cement itself in my mind. I still expected the earthy grimness of above to be reflected below.
I took off my pack and set it on the ground, just beside my friend’s head. I removed the only other object I’d brought: a large jar, its surface filmy with a greenish grey residue. In the light of my flashlight – which I’d placed atop the rim of the casket – the jar’s contents seemed to glow. I unscrewed the cap and turned away, knowing the malodorous stench would make me ill. Once the fumes had cleared, I used a finger to stir its contents. The consistency was like jelly, though the stuff was disconcertingly warm; had not dropped a single degree in temperature since its preparation hours earlier.
Once the substance was appropriately thin – now more akin to a semi-thick yogurt – I set the jar down and went to work on my friend. First, I removed my jacket and propped his head beneath it for a makeshift pillow. Then, with infinite gentleness I pried open his lips, thankful that his eyes were closed. To have to look into them while I manipulated his corpse – however reverently – would've been too much. Once the lips were sufficiently parted, I grabbed the jar and tilted its opening into the agape orifice. The liquid flowed easily enough, continuing down my friend’s throat unimpeded. Had he been alive, he would’ve become almost immediately sick and vomited everywhere. The stuff was utterly unpalatable by living men – I had tried it out of morbid curiosity before embarking on my sepulchral quest.
When it was empty, I put the jar back into my bag and laid my friend’s head back down on the lid. I didn’t want to watch what happened next, didn’t need to – having the utmost confidence in the efficacy of the elixir.
I tidied up the area as best as I could and climbed into the casket – facing up at the shadowy ceiling. I knew it would take a few minutes for the stuff to work, so I tried to listen for any strange or peculiar sounds in the gloom. The place was utterly quiet, my breathing so loud in the stillness that it softly echoed ceilingward. Motes of dust – born of what I hoped was time-crumbled stone, and not human remains – floated into the scope of my flashlight, reminding me of a campfire billowing with ashes. A camping trip with him, during which we’d discussed everything from girlfriends to mathematical ontology. Memories I’d soon forget – but, hopefully, only temporarily.
A soft sound. The twitch of a finger, the subsequent scratch of the nail moving across the wood of the coffin lid. I tried to force a blankness of mind –attempted to re-enter that state of mental nihility into which I’d slipped earlier. More sounds: rustling clothes, the release of long-trapped air from death-stiffened joints. Panic warred with a mounting calmness in my mind. My resolve was settled, but I was still human; fear was still a powerful motivator toward self-preservation.
But in the end, I managed to lapse back into that state of near thoughtlessness. As my friend’s pallid face suddenly summited the surface of the casket, entering my field of vision illumined by the flashlight, I settled into the comfortable abyss of vacuous acceptance. I felt neither the pressure nor the coldness of the still-rigid fingers as they gripped my neck; no pain accompanied the piercing of my neck by his dry teeth. I smelled the coppery aroma of my own blood as it burst from my neck, but the sensation was otherwise unremarkable.
I kept a smile on my face as my friend feasted on my body. Relief filtered through me even as my hot blood washed over me. The necromantic brew had worked! My friend had been reanimated and would use me to restore to himself a semblance of his humanity; at least enough to where he could consciously procure more subjects to further support himself.
I’d promised him in his final days of cancerous ruin that I wouldn’t let him simply die - wouldn’t let his wonderful spirit be lost to the nether-realm, or oblivion, or wherever souls end up following the body’s death. But I wasn’t ready to let myself succumb to such a fate, either. So, shortly after we’d buried him I sought out and employed a surprisingly local necromancer to concoct a potion that would allow my friend to be brought back to life; but would also anchor me to that same corporeal revenancy, using my very being as sustenance for his lichdom.
Now, my friend and I exist as one. Twin-bound souls in a single body. My flesh filled his belly, but my mind was transferred to his brain. I pilot the flesh, while the vestiges of his spirit await rebirth in the deeper recesses of our shared mind. Together, we’ll seek out others, and with their consent we’ll feast upon their flesh. Their minds won’t be preserved. We’ll use them as spiritual kindling, so to speak. To bolster our own psychic vitality. But we won’t seek out anyone who’d want to join this twofold collective.
There are plenty of people who desire death, and haven’t the slightest care how it’s achieved, so long as the hand that deals it is not their own. Some are simply too afraid, incapable of inflicting upon themselves an injury severe enough to be fatal. Others refuse to, no matter how strong a desire, due to the inability to ask for religious forgiveness following their demise. In that case, I’d imagine the intent would suffice as being sinful enough, regardless of whom dealt the harm. But I’m no theologian and wouldn’t argue with the logic of a consenting collaborator.
Oh, I suppose it’s worth mentioning that upon our exit from the tomb, we were greeted by none other than the caretaker, who’d taken up watch of the mausoleum from the shadows – not the hut. Apparently, he’d known of my mission; had been made aware of it by the very same necromancer whose services I had used. The furtive alchemist had forewarned him of my arrival, in fact. I wasn’t surprised. Their vocations, though seemingly at odds, do intersect in certain charnel ways. The caretaker locking me inside had been for our own protection – in the event that someone came along to pay their respects to my friend before we could.... regain our composure.
I later returned and paid the thoughtful watchman enough for two padlocks, since my friend and I had broken the second in our somewhat Frankensteinian exit of the crypt.
A body cohabitated by two spirits requires a great deal of rest, so I will end this tale here. I look forward to spending a shared life with my friend, once he awakens from his incorporeal chrysalis. I can feel him dreaming, though I can’t peer into the ether of his nascent mind.
Soon, though. We’ll peer into each other’s thoughts, and I’ll once again hold the memories I’ve yet to recover. I’d thought that digesting my own brain would provide me with the memories lost in the transference, but I guess necrophagic neurobiology isn’t an exact science....
2023.03.28 10:56 DrawingThin I left my highest-paying job due to an awful supervisor, and it still bothers me.
Hey guys! Please let me know if this is the wrong place - I wanted to say in advance that the point of this post isn't to get advice necessarily, but to see if anyone else had similar situations.
Also, I'm sorry this is so long - I realized at the end that I've been holding these feelings in for several months.
TL;DR: After growing up in financial insecurity, I found a job I loved that paid more than I thought I was qualified for. It remains to be the highest-paying job I've ever had. A new supervisor changed our setup entirely and decided that I specifically was deadweight. I left because my mental health couldn't take it, but I still can't believe I was shoved out of a job I loved by a boss who was newer to the company than I was.
---
A little over a year ago, I was freshly married, moving to a new city, and trying to figure out grad school. I had been working in healthcare-adjacent jobs, and my current job was not paying well. Naturally, I went job hunting.
I found what seemed like the perfect job with an unbelievable income and benefit package. I applied, and throughout the interview process I realized I loved the team and its mission. It was a healthcare start-up, and the role I was applying for was a new concept that I always wish existed. I not only got the job, but I was offered a salary much higher than was advertised on the job boards. It was nearly twice as much than any job ever paid me, which was astonishing. I lived on food stamps in high school and got by on quarters throughout college, and the idea that I'd not only do something I loved but also be financially comfortable was mindblowing.
I worked for a year loving the job. And things started shifting. The start-up decided they wanted to grow, and fast. My job and title more or less changed overnight, but I wound up loving the change because it converted my position into a purely remote role. I was part of a small team of less than five people, and the person who trained me originally was our leader.
And then there was another shift. Seemingly overnight, we were told that that this leader had been demoted, and we were being assigned a new supervisor. Our new leader was someone who was previously part of another team. However, every member of our team had worked for the company longer than this supervisor, which was weird, especially given the fact that our original leader was well-loved, extremely efficient, and had been working for the company nearly since its beginning.
Before this new supervisor arrived, we had this system where we would rotate roles. Part of our job involved tracking requests and tasks from other teams and then entering them into our team's task management system. The tasks were not originally assigned to any one person - they just belonged to whomever was assigned to task completion that day or week, and so they were everyone's responsibility.
This supervisor decide overnight that whomever originally entered a task into the system was now responsible for it, no matter how long ago that was. The problem was, I was usually the person who was tracking tasks and entering them into the task management system, so I nearly had double as many tasks as our other teammates. Things we were all working on suddenly became my responsibility solely. This supervisor also introduced a whole new set of deadlines - in other words, she decided that many of 'my' tasks should have been done weeks before. I repeatedly tried to tell her that I could not meet this new standard and that I suddenly had far more tasks than the other teammates. She told me that regardless of the number of tasks I had, I was 'falling behind' everyone else (despite the fact that I actually had the highest task completion by sheer numbers, which our systems tracked). I sent her charts and screenshots, but this supervisor insisted that I was dragging the team down.
This eventually led to her inviting me to a meeting that was supposed to be our weekly one-on-one. It more or less turned out to be an hour of her telling me that I was falling short of every KPI and would be fired if I did not 'improve' and resolve all 80+ complex tasks I had within a few weeks. To make it worse, she apparently told a teammate to change the due dates of all of my tasks, and suddenly tasks that were not in the red were overdue by several days. I left the meeting in tears, humiliated and feeling disgusted.
The following day, I sent in my letter of resignation and turned off my notifications. My mental health was in shambles. After taking a month of rest (my spouse carried the weight of finances for a while), I found my current job, which pays almost half as much. Fortunately, my spouse has a fairly well-paying job that he loves, and we are still financially stable (though we are not quite as able to splurge and cover medical expenses as we once did).
I love my current workplace. I have a supervisor who is supportive and actually listens to our team. But I just received a notification that my former supervisor was celebrating her anniversary with my old company, and it reminded me how she turned a job I loved (and was even considering retiring with) into a hellscape for me.
I'm sometimes ashamed that this still messes with me, but the reality is that it happened only within the last 6 months.
Have any of you guys ever experienced anything similar? I'm not sure if it would be reassuring or just sad to find out that this experience is common.
submitted by DrawingThin to Vent [link] [comments]
Also, I'm sorry this is so long - I realized at the end that I've been holding these feelings in for several months.
TL;DR: After growing up in financial insecurity, I found a job I loved that paid more than I thought I was qualified for. It remains to be the highest-paying job I've ever had. A new supervisor changed our setup entirely and decided that I specifically was deadweight. I left because my mental health couldn't take it, but I still can't believe I was shoved out of a job I loved by a boss who was newer to the company than I was.
---
A little over a year ago, I was freshly married, moving to a new city, and trying to figure out grad school. I had been working in healthcare-adjacent jobs, and my current job was not paying well. Naturally, I went job hunting.
I found what seemed like the perfect job with an unbelievable income and benefit package. I applied, and throughout the interview process I realized I loved the team and its mission. It was a healthcare start-up, and the role I was applying for was a new concept that I always wish existed. I not only got the job, but I was offered a salary much higher than was advertised on the job boards. It was nearly twice as much than any job ever paid me, which was astonishing. I lived on food stamps in high school and got by on quarters throughout college, and the idea that I'd not only do something I loved but also be financially comfortable was mindblowing.
I worked for a year loving the job. And things started shifting. The start-up decided they wanted to grow, and fast. My job and title more or less changed overnight, but I wound up loving the change because it converted my position into a purely remote role. I was part of a small team of less than five people, and the person who trained me originally was our leader.
And then there was another shift. Seemingly overnight, we were told that that this leader had been demoted, and we were being assigned a new supervisor. Our new leader was someone who was previously part of another team. However, every member of our team had worked for the company longer than this supervisor, which was weird, especially given the fact that our original leader was well-loved, extremely efficient, and had been working for the company nearly since its beginning.
Before this new supervisor arrived, we had this system where we would rotate roles. Part of our job involved tracking requests and tasks from other teams and then entering them into our team's task management system. The tasks were not originally assigned to any one person - they just belonged to whomever was assigned to task completion that day or week, and so they were everyone's responsibility.
This supervisor decide overnight that whomever originally entered a task into the system was now responsible for it, no matter how long ago that was. The problem was, I was usually the person who was tracking tasks and entering them into the task management system, so I nearly had double as many tasks as our other teammates. Things we were all working on suddenly became my responsibility solely. This supervisor also introduced a whole new set of deadlines - in other words, she decided that many of 'my' tasks should have been done weeks before. I repeatedly tried to tell her that I could not meet this new standard and that I suddenly had far more tasks than the other teammates. She told me that regardless of the number of tasks I had, I was 'falling behind' everyone else (despite the fact that I actually had the highest task completion by sheer numbers, which our systems tracked). I sent her charts and screenshots, but this supervisor insisted that I was dragging the team down.
This eventually led to her inviting me to a meeting that was supposed to be our weekly one-on-one. It more or less turned out to be an hour of her telling me that I was falling short of every KPI and would be fired if I did not 'improve' and resolve all 80+ complex tasks I had within a few weeks. To make it worse, she apparently told a teammate to change the due dates of all of my tasks, and suddenly tasks that were not in the red were overdue by several days. I left the meeting in tears, humiliated and feeling disgusted.
The following day, I sent in my letter of resignation and turned off my notifications. My mental health was in shambles. After taking a month of rest (my spouse carried the weight of finances for a while), I found my current job, which pays almost half as much. Fortunately, my spouse has a fairly well-paying job that he loves, and we are still financially stable (though we are not quite as able to splurge and cover medical expenses as we once did).
I love my current workplace. I have a supervisor who is supportive and actually listens to our team. But I just received a notification that my former supervisor was celebrating her anniversary with my old company, and it reminded me how she turned a job I loved (and was even considering retiring with) into a hellscape for me.
I'm sometimes ashamed that this still messes with me, but the reality is that it happened only within the last 6 months.
Have any of you guys ever experienced anything similar? I'm not sure if it would be reassuring or just sad to find out that this experience is common.
2023.03.28 10:55 Thick_Inflation5440 [US] Is it OK to have an overburdened mortgage in this situation?
I'm in the process of purchasing a house. I've been looking for quite a while (nearly a year) and finally found a place I can afford (read: qualify for a loan) and has what I want.
The concern is that my post tax salary is a bit more than 3,500 bi weekly, and my monthly mortgage is 6k. So around 80% of my post tax take-home pay from cash salary will be going towards mortgage.
In a vacuum, most people including me would say this is a horrible horrible thing and should absolutely not be done. However, there is more to it.
1)First, there are other sources of income. Around 20k a year of after-tax stock income (paid out 5k every quarter), as well as a once a year bonus of around 30k, as well as my father who makes around 30k-60k a year (variable but 30k is definitely a safe lower bound). So I think we have at least a bare minimum of 60k a year income in the worst case, if I count my entire salary going towards mortgage. My family and father live with me and don't have their own place. I don't have any other debts. I also have a respectable amount of savings (8mo+) both cash and 401k (around another 6mo+) if I need to do an emergency withdrawal. I also have well-off family who, if needed, can pitch in if my 1yr+ of savings are not enough, and they are all looped in and supportive of the house purchase.
2) Second, I expect my pay to increase a respectable amount (5-10% a year), and in 5-6 years I should have a non-trivial amount of increased compensation, probably at least enough to leave me with 3-5k in cash per month after mortgage, not count any stocks or bonys. I expect it will stagnate and stay the same, just based on the average increase in salary in my field and upper ceiling of pay, barring inflation rate increases. This year, with everything that's happened in the tech industry, I got a 7% increase in pay, without promotion. Most people got that. Last year was 9%, again without promo or anything. With promo and stock increases I should get around 10-15% raise
3) I live in the socal area, and prices here have done nothing but go up. Waiting to have more income to buy a house doesn't seem to make sense since houses are appreciating a decent amount compared to wages so if I can't afford the house I want now, it's unrealistic to expect some kind of magic to happen for me to afford it suddenly in the future. Sure, maybe some kind of economic crash happens, but theres no reason to assume that the same economic crash doesn't affect me and severely impact my ability to afford a house.
I just want to hear people's opinion on this. On paper it's kind of ludicrous to pay almost entire paycheck to mortgage but with 1) other sources of income and 2) the expected increase in my pay over the medium term and 3) expected appreciation of properties in the area, I think it makes sense, even if I'm a bit overstretched at the moment. Add on decent savings and zero other debts I think my family and I should be ok.
Please be honest and not rude. I am genuinely looking for other people's perspective. I do not see an issue with this arrangement. I'm not trying to humble brag or anything.
In my head, rationalize it as "My family and I live in a house for free, my job pays me 1k a month, and my dad makes 3-6k a month. I also get paid around 5k in stocks every 3 months, and I get around 20-30k bonus every year. I have 6mo+ of savings in the bank. My salary is going go up in the years to come.". I don't see the problem, other than it deviates from the traditional advice of "30% of income to mortgage".
submitted by Thick_Inflation5440 to homeowners [link] [comments]
The concern is that my post tax salary is a bit more than 3,500 bi weekly, and my monthly mortgage is 6k. So around 80% of my post tax take-home pay from cash salary will be going towards mortgage.
In a vacuum, most people including me would say this is a horrible horrible thing and should absolutely not be done. However, there is more to it.
1)First, there are other sources of income. Around 20k a year of after-tax stock income (paid out 5k every quarter), as well as a once a year bonus of around 30k, as well as my father who makes around 30k-60k a year (variable but 30k is definitely a safe lower bound). So I think we have at least a bare minimum of 60k a year income in the worst case, if I count my entire salary going towards mortgage. My family and father live with me and don't have their own place. I don't have any other debts. I also have a respectable amount of savings (8mo+) both cash and 401k (around another 6mo+) if I need to do an emergency withdrawal. I also have well-off family who, if needed, can pitch in if my 1yr+ of savings are not enough, and they are all looped in and supportive of the house purchase.
2) Second, I expect my pay to increase a respectable amount (5-10% a year), and in 5-6 years I should have a non-trivial amount of increased compensation, probably at least enough to leave me with 3-5k in cash per month after mortgage, not count any stocks or bonys. I expect it will stagnate and stay the same, just based on the average increase in salary in my field and upper ceiling of pay, barring inflation rate increases. This year, with everything that's happened in the tech industry, I got a 7% increase in pay, without promotion. Most people got that. Last year was 9%, again without promo or anything. With promo and stock increases I should get around 10-15% raise
3) I live in the socal area, and prices here have done nothing but go up. Waiting to have more income to buy a house doesn't seem to make sense since houses are appreciating a decent amount compared to wages so if I can't afford the house I want now, it's unrealistic to expect some kind of magic to happen for me to afford it suddenly in the future. Sure, maybe some kind of economic crash happens, but theres no reason to assume that the same economic crash doesn't affect me and severely impact my ability to afford a house.
I just want to hear people's opinion on this. On paper it's kind of ludicrous to pay almost entire paycheck to mortgage but with 1) other sources of income and 2) the expected increase in my pay over the medium term and 3) expected appreciation of properties in the area, I think it makes sense, even if I'm a bit overstretched at the moment. Add on decent savings and zero other debts I think my family and I should be ok.
Please be honest and not rude. I am genuinely looking for other people's perspective. I do not see an issue with this arrangement. I'm not trying to humble brag or anything.
In my head, rationalize it as "My family and I live in a house for free, my job pays me 1k a month, and my dad makes 3-6k a month. I also get paid around 5k in stocks every 3 months, and I get around 20-30k bonus every year. I have 6mo+ of savings in the bank. My salary is going go up in the years to come.". I don't see the problem, other than it deviates from the traditional advice of "30% of income to mortgage".
2023.03.28 10:55 write_mishmsh Naps
Sorry if this has been asked (can't find it) but my 4 month old (nearly 5) really struggles with going down for a nap off me. How do I get her to sleep in the cot in the day without sleep training?
I keep hearing about drowsy but awake - that never worked. I would love to put her down in her cot, turn on the white noise and then left her drift off. But how do I do that?
For context, I put her down once a day but she falls asleep on me. I tried this morning doing a little message, putting her in her sleep bag and holding her hand with the white noise on but she just cried until I picked her up.
submitted by write_mishmsh to AttachmentParenting [link] [comments]
I keep hearing about drowsy but awake - that never worked. I would love to put her down in her cot, turn on the white noise and then left her drift off. But how do I do that?
For context, I put her down once a day but she falls asleep on me. I tried this morning doing a little message, putting her in her sleep bag and holding her hand with the white noise on but she just cried until I picked her up.
2023.03.28 10:55 Caaerus New setup opinions
Hi there,
I'm currently planning on a whole different experience of listening to my record. Been rocking an LP60XBT for 6 months now through a LG soundbar by Bluetooth and I was thinking of upgrading to the following rig:
Turntable: Pro-Ject Debut Carbon EVO Amp: Sony STR-DH190 Stereo Receiver Speakers: Wharfedale Diamond 12.2 Bookshelf Speakers
Thinking of having these on speaker stands, I assume this is a better upgrade than what I have? It will get me to nearly 1.300 euros if stands are included , ordering this off a local shop in Ireland (Savins).
submitted by Caaerus to turntables [link] [comments]
I'm currently planning on a whole different experience of listening to my record. Been rocking an LP60XBT for 6 months now through a LG soundbar by Bluetooth and I was thinking of upgrading to the following rig:
Turntable: Pro-Ject Debut Carbon EVO Amp: Sony STR-DH190 Stereo Receiver Speakers: Wharfedale Diamond 12.2 Bookshelf Speakers
Thinking of having these on speaker stands, I assume this is a better upgrade than what I have? It will get me to nearly 1.300 euros if stands are included , ordering this off a local shop in Ireland (Savins).
2023.03.28 10:55 Albino_Whale FCC's map to challenge the speeds you ISP "reports" they provide.
https://broadbandmap.fcc.gov/
Please take 60 seconds and look your house up on this. It's a link that shows what speeds different ISPs claim to offer you and gives you the chance to "challenge" them (and optionally call them dirty lying sons of bitches)
I just got the results back from my "challenge" with Comcast. They were claiming to offer 20x higher speeds than what they actually offer. I got excited and thought maybe they snuck some fiber in without me knowing, but no, they're still just a bunch of snakes.
It wasn't an honest mistake either. When I went to look my house up on THEIR coverage maps, it's clear as day that they don't offer speeds anywhere near that to me or anyone in my neighborhood. They not only know the truth, they publish it on their website for everyone to see before turning around and lying about it.
Your tax money helps pay for them to install those lines, don't let them take credit for shit they didn't do. It's super quick, inconvenient for them, and helps to quantify just how scummy the really are.
submitted by Albino_Whale to HomeNetworking [link] [comments]
Please take 60 seconds and look your house up on this. It's a link that shows what speeds different ISPs claim to offer you and gives you the chance to "challenge" them (and optionally call them dirty lying sons of bitches)
I just got the results back from my "challenge" with Comcast. They were claiming to offer 20x higher speeds than what they actually offer. I got excited and thought maybe they snuck some fiber in without me knowing, but no, they're still just a bunch of snakes.
It wasn't an honest mistake either. When I went to look my house up on THEIR coverage maps, it's clear as day that they don't offer speeds anywhere near that to me or anyone in my neighborhood. They not only know the truth, they publish it on their website for everyone to see before turning around and lying about it.
Your tax money helps pay for them to install those lines, don't let them take credit for shit they didn't do. It's super quick, inconvenient for them, and helps to quantify just how scummy the really are.
2023.03.28 10:54 Acrobatic_Lead2578 Perfect List But NPCs Are Too Ugly
As stated in the title, I love everything about this list except the NPC appearances. I've never played Requiem before and heard this is a good list for an introduction and it has just about everything else on my list of must-have mods. I haven't modded Skyrim myself pretty much since Wabbajack came out and I've forgotten almost everything, so how hard would it be to change the NPC overhaul mods used in this list? Can anyone point me to a guide or give advice on where to start with this so I don't completely break a nearly perfect list over one quibble? lol
submitted by Acrobatic_Lead2578 to wildlander [link] [comments]
2023.03.28 10:54 Kloerb Dressing up the Skulls & Shackles Finale
Hi everyone! First of all, I know one of my players is active on this sub, so please do me the favor to stop reading. I'm a GM nearing the end of my Skulls & Shackles Campaign. I changed the last book pretty much completely, going with the ambitions and play style of my players. Right now they're staging a coup to seize control of the shackles in order to be able to mount a more coordinated defense against the chelish invasion. This means that Druvalia Thrune is now the final opponent they will face, with our current rate of play probably around Christmas this year. I knew that for a while so I already gave her a fair bit more interaction with the players in order to build her up properly. I also gave her access to some more devils because it seemed right and my players tend to respect monstrous opponents much more than humanoid ones. The problem I'm facing is that the confines of a ship limit the fight severely and ship battles lost a lot of their excitement on higher levels, as players became able to clear out a near infinite number of lower level opponents on smaller spaces. I'm looking for ideas to somehow make the map they'll fight on more interesting. Either to make high level fights work on small space without artificially limiting the players or to somehow spin the narrative so the fight takes place somewhere else. I'm also looking for recommendations for miniatures. Specifically for Druvalia Thrune and her hellknight companion, but also for chelaxian soldiers in general. I'm able to paint them, but not good at modelling, so if anybody has any ideas I'm grateful.
submitted by Kloerb to Pathfinder_RPG [link] [comments]
2023.03.28 10:54 Emotional_Form257 I'm about to lose my fucking mind
So my girlfriend (25F) and I (22M) live together. I have a few posts about her alcoholism and it's not really getting much better. She keeps crying and saying she's going to quit but she never does.
But that's not really the main focus of this post today. I just quit my job because I was offered one with a huge pay bump at a different company. The only issue is I'm on a probationary period for 6 months and this specific company isn't known for letting any mistakes slide by. It's nerve racking but I'm excited by the possibilities of it.
My girlfriend and I both work. She's a low level manager at a retail store, and she's only been at the job for about two months. She was fired from her last job for reasons that aren't relevant.
Well I discussed this new job of mine before I accepted the job offer and put in my two weeks and I asked her if she would be okay with working for at least the next six months in case my new job doesn't work out the way I'm hoping. She agreed.
Well her job has an attendance points system. Basically, calling out or missing a shift or being late counts against you, and in her case, 12 points in 6 months means you're automatically terminated at the company.
I accepted the job offer 2 days ago. Tonight she came up to me, drunk (of course) and told me she had texted her boss and quit her job. I was obviously upset and I asked her why and she told me that she was already close to being fired since she had racked up 10 attendance points in her 2 months at the job.
Apparently, all those days where she said she wasn't scheduled when I was pretty sure she had been, she had just been calling off because she was too hungovestill drunk from the night before.
I got upset but tried to keep my temper. I sent her a few links to jobs in the area which I knew would be within her interests and proformance levels and told her she needed to apply to them as soon as possible (she uses Indeed so it's a one click apply) and she told me she NEEDED TIME TO GREIVE THE LOSS OF HER RETAIL JOB.
I consider myself a very level headed sort of guy. I try not to get bent out of shape about small things but this got under my skin. She's constantly complaining about how stressed she is about finances. We're stretched just a bit too thin for comfort, but it would be fine if she was still working at this job at least until I got my first check. But NO.
I nearly lost it and found myself unable to talk to her for the rest of the night. It was, at the very least, incredibly inconsiderate to not discuss something like this with me before doing it.
I feel sort of betrayed, and I can't stand to look at her right now. She's mad at me for not cuddling her but I'm just too upset.
What the fuck do I do.
submitted by Emotional_Form257 to JustNoSO [link] [comments]
But that's not really the main focus of this post today. I just quit my job because I was offered one with a huge pay bump at a different company. The only issue is I'm on a probationary period for 6 months and this specific company isn't known for letting any mistakes slide by. It's nerve racking but I'm excited by the possibilities of it.
My girlfriend and I both work. She's a low level manager at a retail store, and she's only been at the job for about two months. She was fired from her last job for reasons that aren't relevant.
Well I discussed this new job of mine before I accepted the job offer and put in my two weeks and I asked her if she would be okay with working for at least the next six months in case my new job doesn't work out the way I'm hoping. She agreed.
Well her job has an attendance points system. Basically, calling out or missing a shift or being late counts against you, and in her case, 12 points in 6 months means you're automatically terminated at the company.
I accepted the job offer 2 days ago. Tonight she came up to me, drunk (of course) and told me she had texted her boss and quit her job. I was obviously upset and I asked her why and she told me that she was already close to being fired since she had racked up 10 attendance points in her 2 months at the job.
Apparently, all those days where she said she wasn't scheduled when I was pretty sure she had been, she had just been calling off because she was too hungovestill drunk from the night before.
I got upset but tried to keep my temper. I sent her a few links to jobs in the area which I knew would be within her interests and proformance levels and told her she needed to apply to them as soon as possible (she uses Indeed so it's a one click apply) and she told me she NEEDED TIME TO GREIVE THE LOSS OF HER RETAIL JOB.
I consider myself a very level headed sort of guy. I try not to get bent out of shape about small things but this got under my skin. She's constantly complaining about how stressed she is about finances. We're stretched just a bit too thin for comfort, but it would be fine if she was still working at this job at least until I got my first check. But NO.
I nearly lost it and found myself unable to talk to her for the rest of the night. It was, at the very least, incredibly inconsiderate to not discuss something like this with me before doing it.
I feel sort of betrayed, and I can't stand to look at her right now. She's mad at me for not cuddling her but I'm just too upset.
What the fuck do I do.
2023.03.28 10:53 ReginaBicman (Spoilers extended) Did Tolkien ’spoil’ the end of ASOIAF in The Hobbit?
In The Hobbit, Bilbo says after his adventure as he’s about to go back home to the Shire.
Also ‘the Tookish part was getting tired and the Baggins was daily getting stronger.’ That to me sounds very reminiscent of what Jon will have to deal with being both Stark & Targaryen, two sides arguing and contradicting one another and eventually one side wins out (even if at the end of the day he still desires another adventure, even if he determines from there on out he is a proper respectable Baggins of Bagend rather than a fool of a Took.)
Idk, I don’t know Tolkien lore NEAR enough to make any sort of super deep look into this theory besides surface glance and the Jon and Dany chapters are some of my least favorite chapters so I don’t do any real deep reading into their chapters so I may be completely off base.
submitted by ReginaBicman to asoiaf [link] [comments]
There behind lay Mirkwood, blue in the distance, and darkly green at the nearer edge even in the spring. There far away was the Lonely Mountain on the edge of eyesight. On its highest peak snow yet unmelted was gleaming pale.I came across this line the other day doing my LOTR re-read and it stood all the way out to me for a multitude of reasons. First of all the entire second passage could be a metaphor in where Jon kills Dany, but also it directly contradicts GRRM’s world where ‘a dream of spring’ is the happy ending at the end of winter, but here winter is the happy ending after ‘fire’, but it’s two sides to the same coin saying the same thing.
“So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their ending!” said Bilbo, and he turned his back on his adventure.
The Tookish part was getting very tired, and the Baggins was daily getting stronger.
Also ‘the Tookish part was getting tired and the Baggins was daily getting stronger.’ That to me sounds very reminiscent of what Jon will have to deal with being both Stark & Targaryen, two sides arguing and contradicting one another and eventually one side wins out (even if at the end of the day he still desires another adventure, even if he determines from there on out he is a proper respectable Baggins of Bagend rather than a fool of a Took.)
Idk, I don’t know Tolkien lore NEAR enough to make any sort of super deep look into this theory besides surface glance and the Jon and Dany chapters are some of my least favorite chapters so I don’t do any real deep reading into their chapters so I may be completely off base.
2023.03.28 10:53 Narrow_Run6512 The 2020 blog entries feel off
I've been reading through Sylvester's second blog and not gonna lie it makes me a bit uncomfortable, mainly near the end, Steve is essentially talking about his own depression and it's just kind of feels wrong in a way, if that makes sense at all. Anyone else agree?
Life As A Cat 2 - By Sylvester: 2020 (talkingkittycat2.blogspot.com)
I could be reading too much into this though.
submitted by Narrow_Run6512 to TalkingKittyCat [link] [comments]
Life As A Cat 2 - By Sylvester: 2020 (talkingkittycat2.blogspot.com)
I could be reading too much into this though.
2023.03.28 10:53 learnkolkata What Is The Role Of A Home Tutor?
 | https://preview.redd.it/0wuv0u5n1gqa1.jpg?width=800&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=652ea91d5b1be2d8098cc7f23f7b79b4314757f5 submitted by learnkolkata to u/learnkolkata [link] [comments] Home tutors provide professional and personalized education and academic support to students in their own homes. Home tutoring has become increasingly popular as more and more parents and students recognize the value of one-on-one attention. Only a home tutor can provide individual attention to any student that is beneficial for the student’s academic growth. To guide students into the right path based on their requirements, the role of a home tutor can vary depending on the student’s needs. But there are some typical responsibilities and duties. Finding a home tutor who will do his or her duties sincerely is difficult. In case you are finding Home Tutor Near Me, or Home Tutors in Howrah, then you can reach out to Learn Kolkata. We are the best Teacher Bureaus providing services in West Bengal, and you can get teachers of all subjects from KG to postgraduate level throughout West Bengal. For more information please visit our site : https://www.learnkolkata.com/what-is-the-role-of-a-home-tuto #HomeTutorNearMe #Home Tutors in Howrah #PrivateTutorsNearMe #TeacherBureaus #HomeTutors #Kolkata #Howrah |
2023.03.28 10:52 Environmental-Bee-35 Friend is Udisc averse. Advice?
I will delete this later, but I have a friend that is a casual disc golfer, very recreational, yet still competitive within our small group of friends, but… and this is the frustrating part, he refuses to create a Udisc account or keep track of their login information, or act like it’s our job to remember it for him. Which again, is okay, but is incredibly frustrating when everything is run through Udisc nowadays. Even the free version is worth it, but it’s the same thing every time we go out, acting like it’s their first time hearing that Udisc is used for keeping scores.
Last night we were all but ready to play on the first station (this one has multiple degrees of difficulty for each station) tee for nearly ten minutes alone getting him logged in etc and suddenly there’s several groups waiting behind us.
In other occasions, he’ll suggest we keep score on Udisc for stats, yet never offer to be the one tracking scores because “I don’t have a Udisc”
In the long run I know this shouldn’t bother me, but it’s frustrating for myself and my other friend that use Udisc.
Am I overreacting or is this validity here? And is there a better way to explain this to my friend, who is social media and Udisc averse?
submitted by Environmental-Bee-35 to discgolf [link] [comments]
Last night we were all but ready to play on the first station (this one has multiple degrees of difficulty for each station) tee for nearly ten minutes alone getting him logged in etc and suddenly there’s several groups waiting behind us.
In other occasions, he’ll suggest we keep score on Udisc for stats, yet never offer to be the one tracking scores because “I don’t have a Udisc”
In the long run I know this shouldn’t bother me, but it’s frustrating for myself and my other friend that use Udisc.
Am I overreacting or is this validity here? And is there a better way to explain this to my friend, who is social media and Udisc averse?
2023.03.28 10:51 Wheel_Shot Help my mother fight brain haemorrhage.
 | Hello i am akash singh 18 years I need your urgent help in saving my mom's life..she has met with an accident on 12/10/2022 is suffering from brain haemorrhage.she went through an operation on 13/10/2022 which costed us more than 13 lakhs rupees which we somehow managed to pay and her life was saved but from past 6 months she has been paralysed neither she is able to speak or move any parts of her body nor she can understand anything... submitted by Wheel_Shot to Neetish [link] [comments] But in last few days her health kept on decreasing and when we took her to doctor for checkup he said the amount of fluids in her brain has increased more than a safe level and she requires immediate operation which would cost more than 3,00,000 which is nearly impossible for us to collect as we have already spent more than 13 lakhs rupees by taking loans and selling our only land and now more 3 lakhs is next to impossible I need your help big or small doesn't matter any help would be hugely appreciated please help me and my family |
2023.03.28 10:50 throwRa_altacc I'm a compulsive liar (i think). How do I stop lying so much?
I find myself lying all the time, and I'm really good at it. This is the only account where I don't have a million posts to subreddits like this with documented lies. I frequently lie about stuff. It's never with bad intentions; it's just so people think I'm cooler than I am. Here are some examples of lies I've told in the last few days:
I told my mom I met my best friend at school (I met him on Xbox [I almost lied again]). I said I talked to a girl I was supposed to go on a date with on a day I didn't. I said I went on a date with that same girl to my dad (she canceled and ignored my attempt to reschedule). I lie all the time on Reddit about details in case of the person seeing it (for example, I went to grab food with her at a restaurant on the beach, instead of what actually happened, which was we grabbed food at a local food truck outside of school). A lot of these are self-preservation techniques. For example, where I met my friend, I would have to admit to meeting up with a friend I met off Xbox, so I avoid mentioning that it was at school. "Talked to her today" makes it seem like things are going better than they are (which makes me look better). Or I went on the date (I didn't, but it looks better for me if I say I did). Details of what happened on a Reddit post hide me in case the person being talked about sees the post, so they don't know it's them.
I do this kind of stuff all the time. I have good intentions behind it, but I feel weird about it later. At first, it was to protect myself, but now I do it compulsively (perhaps still to protect myself).
I've always lied about some things, like my virginity in high school, homework to my parents, stories to friends, etc. But now I do it more than ever, whereas previously, it was pretty rare that I lied.
I never straight up lie; it's normally somewhat truthful. For example, I did meet my friend, just not at school. I did message her that day (she didn't reply though). I did grab lunch with her (not at a restaurant near the beach, though). I did have a date (I just didn't go on it. She did say yes, though).
I don't think a lot of these are inherently harmful, just not great. I want to be a better person, and I think while I almost never do anything bad for others, I want to stop lying so much. I think I lack a lot of self-respect, and maybe if I were more honest and less scared of judgment or confrontation, I'd have more respect for myself. How do I stop lying so much? (And while im at it learn to respect myself more and be less afraid of what people say about me)
submitted by throwRa_altacc to Healthygamergg [link] [comments]
I told my mom I met my best friend at school (I met him on Xbox [I almost lied again]). I said I talked to a girl I was supposed to go on a date with on a day I didn't. I said I went on a date with that same girl to my dad (she canceled and ignored my attempt to reschedule). I lie all the time on Reddit about details in case of the person seeing it (for example, I went to grab food with her at a restaurant on the beach, instead of what actually happened, which was we grabbed food at a local food truck outside of school). A lot of these are self-preservation techniques. For example, where I met my friend, I would have to admit to meeting up with a friend I met off Xbox, so I avoid mentioning that it was at school. "Talked to her today" makes it seem like things are going better than they are (which makes me look better). Or I went on the date (I didn't, but it looks better for me if I say I did). Details of what happened on a Reddit post hide me in case the person being talked about sees the post, so they don't know it's them.
I do this kind of stuff all the time. I have good intentions behind it, but I feel weird about it later. At first, it was to protect myself, but now I do it compulsively (perhaps still to protect myself).
I've always lied about some things, like my virginity in high school, homework to my parents, stories to friends, etc. But now I do it more than ever, whereas previously, it was pretty rare that I lied.
I never straight up lie; it's normally somewhat truthful. For example, I did meet my friend, just not at school. I did message her that day (she didn't reply though). I did grab lunch with her (not at a restaurant near the beach, though). I did have a date (I just didn't go on it. She did say yes, though).
I don't think a lot of these are inherently harmful, just not great. I want to be a better person, and I think while I almost never do anything bad for others, I want to stop lying so much. I think I lack a lot of self-respect, and maybe if I were more honest and less scared of judgment or confrontation, I'd have more respect for myself. How do I stop lying so much? (And while im at it learn to respect myself more and be less afraid of what people say about me)
2023.03.28 10:49 Puzzleheaded_Cost_75 Contractor for a US Client. My CA is an idiot.
Hi there,
I’m a business analyst currently working with a US based company from India. My CA is incompetent and I don’t trust him so I’m doing everything I can to make sure I comply with IT department guidelines and don’t get any penalties at the end of the year. So here is follows:
If it’s all good, I do have a question regarding GST. Can I use my GST number to buy products for my office to reduce GST applicable on the product or no?
Please let me know your thoughts, I appreciate it in advance. Thank you!
submitted by Puzzleheaded_Cost_75 to IndiaTax [link] [comments]
I’m a business analyst currently working with a US based company from India. My CA is incompetent and I don’t trust him so I’m doing everything I can to make sure I comply with IT department guidelines and don’t get any penalties at the end of the year. So here is follows:
- My income is 60lacs per annum. And therefore, I’m registering for GST from the April 1st, 2023 even though the 20 lac threshold will be breached in the month of July.
- Since I’m exporting services outside of India, I don’t have to pay any GST at the year end. In order to avoid any penalties, I’m filing LUT so that they don’t ask me to pay GST now and get a refund back at the year end.
- I’m transferring USD, not INR to my Indian bank account so that I can get the FIRC document to prove to the government that I did indeed export services to a foreign client.
If it’s all good, I do have a question regarding GST. Can I use my GST number to buy products for my office to reduce GST applicable on the product or no?
Please let me know your thoughts, I appreciate it in advance. Thank you!
2023.03.28 10:49 Wheel_Shot Help my mother fight brain haemorrhage.
| | Hello i am akash singh 18 years I need your urgent help in saving my mom's life..she has met with an accident on 12/10/2022 is suffering from brain haemorrhage.she went through an operation on 13/10/2022 which costed us more than 13 lakhs rupees which we somehow managed to pay and her life was saved but from past 6 months she has been paralysed neither she is able to speak or move any parts of her body nor she can understand anything... submitted by Wheel_Shot to TanmayBhatKeDost [link] [comments] But in last few days her health kept on decreasing and when we took her to doctor for checkup he said the amount of fluids in her brain has increased more than a safe level and she requires immediate operation which would cost more than 3,00,000 which is nearly impossible for us to collect as we have already spent more than 13 lakhs rupees by taking loans and selling our only land and now more 3 lakhs is next to impossible I need your help big or small doesn't matter any help would be hugely appreciated please help me and my family |
2023.03.28 10:48 OBlondeOne Some People... ( Updates )
My apologies. This is very long.
Update #1 ( original post here https://www.reddit.com/EntitledPeople/comments/11cmv5l/some_people/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button )
The meeting. ( reposted update as requested )
As I parked, there were a couple that stopped to say hi, but the majority of the board did not acknowledge me. My accuser though.. she had a great laugh at my expense, and literally taunted me in front of the others on the way in. 'ooh here for more, are you? Guess you didn't get enough of me yet' and blows me a kiss.
She showed up with the Pres. I feel that's relevant. Especially seeming as she ran home.
The meeting started at 6 pm. I was not allowed to sit at the table until the issue was brought up... I sat, alone, for over 45 minutes. Finally someone peeked outside at 6:53 ( to see if I was still there? ) and called me in.
My accuser wasn't there. I say down and the first thing said to me was ' well. We may have made a mistake' followed by this big flowery apology that stank of bullshit and was gaslit better than a propane stove.
'You know that when a complaint comes in, we have to investigate it'
At that point I just exploded. Like... I didn't even talk to my kids like that when they were babies. It was the kind of tone you have when talking to the very simplest of minds.
I told them there's a massive difference between investigating and outright accusing, and that I didn't appreciate how their ineptitude at leading a board nearly derailed the whole organization and just put a really bad light on what we were doing. She says ' by unanimous decision, we've decided not to accept your resignation. Welcome back'
I've likely been this confused before, but I don't remember when. I was expecting this to be much harder. I had a factual speech ready and everything. Walked in and it was just 'we oopsied, oh well teehee'
'Well that's unfortunate that you refuse to accept it, because it's given and I'm not rescinding it. I'm out. And it seems you all know exactly why. For those who have reached out to me- I'll consider your offer of leading this board, but at this time, I'm not comfortable with the lack of trust and transparency I'm seeing. ' and left.
My phone has been blowing up all night. I meant to update immediately but it just kept ringing and tinging. I don't even know how so many found out ( good old gossip is my guess ) but I had over 30 calls and just as many texts/social media messages.
So. What hspprned while i was waiting outside.
My accuser decided to get on something pre-meeting. Literally acted like a wild animal at one point. I'm told it was so bad that the police and Child Protection Services were called by 4 of 5 ladies present, and when told they were called, my accuser took off running home. That's a whole 'nother story. The kids are now safe, I'm told. There's that.
The versions I'm hearing are surprisingly similar, for once. So I'm going to tell you the events as I was told.
Pres' husband is apparently an addict. Who gets his stash from the sis in law/accuser. I'm not clear on the details but I'm told blackmail was involved. Common word says she threatened to spill the beans on hubby. You know how it goes. Get hurt, get prescription, get hooked, get cheaper street drugs because they're cheaper and no doctor regulates them/questions your dose. There's a rumor he is also sleeping with sustained in law but this is not confirmed... but has been going around for the better part of a year now. Maybe I should start listening to more rumors because I had no idea.
Accuser started off normal, if ' twitchy'. She went to the washroom and shit allegedly went sideways not long after she came out. At one point she was laying on the floor, ' slithering and grunting' like an animal'. I wish I could have seen it, but kinda glad I didn't.
When Accuser left, it swayed the remaining 2 votes my way. There was a discussion on how to ' handle' me where the Pres just said she'll follow the board on the vote after they shot down her suggestion that the complaint still be addressed. The way she glared at me when I came in ( yes, wearing my coat! ) tells me she was not happy about it either.
The vote was unanimous to keep me. I did not wish to stay after all that.
Tomorrow they have an open board meeting to tell people what happened, as transparency is ironically a promise we made to the community so they know exactly who and what they're supporting. I won't be there. But a lot of angry and confused people will be. I'm glad I'll be missing it, but I have a feeling I'll hear all about it. I'm told there will be some calling for Pres' resignation. We shall see, I guess.
I started this feeling lower than low. Tonight I'm surrounded by positivity and I feel GOOD about this decision. Is this Karma? It feels like Karma.
Steps are already being taken to form what we will call The Fringe Farm. We will collect fresh farm goods donated by local farmers and deliver to homes that need a little extra, focusing on those that live between communities and people new to rural life. Eventually I hope to offer clothing and household goods, but I need to find a source outside the community so I'm not taking from the original group.
I also have a preliminary board. Comprised of 3 of 5 members of the original board haha
I've told then they have to finish their term at the group (because they do damn good work, and it's not fair to those that need them to just walk away-hypocritical? Msybe. But i refuse to torpedo the group ). 2 still submitted resignations because they're just floored by that last meeting. Theirs was depending upon mine, so their exit meetings are being scheduled for next week. Because they no longer have a secretary to record minutes I'm being asked to. I'm also being asked to submit my name for Pres should the current one agree to resign.
I haven't decided if I will. I feel that will come across as petty, and tbh it's no longer my business.
Thank you for the encouragement. I'm not sure if I would have had the courage to attend if not for the overwhelming kindness and support shown here. By strangers. * shakes head*. You have no idea how much this meant to me when I needed it.
Thank you.
submitted by OBlondeOne to EntitledPeople [link] [comments]
Update #1 ( original post here https://www.reddit.com/EntitledPeople/comments/11cmv5l/some_people/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button )
The meeting. ( reposted update as requested )
As I parked, there were a couple that stopped to say hi, but the majority of the board did not acknowledge me. My accuser though.. she had a great laugh at my expense, and literally taunted me in front of the others on the way in. 'ooh here for more, are you? Guess you didn't get enough of me yet' and blows me a kiss.
She showed up with the Pres. I feel that's relevant. Especially seeming as she ran home.
The meeting started at 6 pm. I was not allowed to sit at the table until the issue was brought up... I sat, alone, for over 45 minutes. Finally someone peeked outside at 6:53 ( to see if I was still there? ) and called me in.
My accuser wasn't there. I say down and the first thing said to me was ' well. We may have made a mistake' followed by this big flowery apology that stank of bullshit and was gaslit better than a propane stove.
'You know that when a complaint comes in, we have to investigate it'
At that point I just exploded. Like... I didn't even talk to my kids like that when they were babies. It was the kind of tone you have when talking to the very simplest of minds.
I told them there's a massive difference between investigating and outright accusing, and that I didn't appreciate how their ineptitude at leading a board nearly derailed the whole organization and just put a really bad light on what we were doing. She says ' by unanimous decision, we've decided not to accept your resignation. Welcome back'
I've likely been this confused before, but I don't remember when. I was expecting this to be much harder. I had a factual speech ready and everything. Walked in and it was just 'we oopsied, oh well teehee'
'Well that's unfortunate that you refuse to accept it, because it's given and I'm not rescinding it. I'm out. And it seems you all know exactly why. For those who have reached out to me- I'll consider your offer of leading this board, but at this time, I'm not comfortable with the lack of trust and transparency I'm seeing. ' and left.
My phone has been blowing up all night. I meant to update immediately but it just kept ringing and tinging. I don't even know how so many found out ( good old gossip is my guess ) but I had over 30 calls and just as many texts/social media messages.
So. What hspprned while i was waiting outside.
My accuser decided to get on something pre-meeting. Literally acted like a wild animal at one point. I'm told it was so bad that the police and Child Protection Services were called by 4 of 5 ladies present, and when told they were called, my accuser took off running home. That's a whole 'nother story. The kids are now safe, I'm told. There's that.
The versions I'm hearing are surprisingly similar, for once. So I'm going to tell you the events as I was told.
Pres' husband is apparently an addict. Who gets his stash from the sis in law/accuser. I'm not clear on the details but I'm told blackmail was involved. Common word says she threatened to spill the beans on hubby. You know how it goes. Get hurt, get prescription, get hooked, get cheaper street drugs because they're cheaper and no doctor regulates them/questions your dose. There's a rumor he is also sleeping with sustained in law but this is not confirmed... but has been going around for the better part of a year now. Maybe I should start listening to more rumors because I had no idea.
Accuser started off normal, if ' twitchy'. She went to the washroom and shit allegedly went sideways not long after she came out. At one point she was laying on the floor, ' slithering and grunting' like an animal'. I wish I could have seen it, but kinda glad I didn't.
When Accuser left, it swayed the remaining 2 votes my way. There was a discussion on how to ' handle' me where the Pres just said she'll follow the board on the vote after they shot down her suggestion that the complaint still be addressed. The way she glared at me when I came in ( yes, wearing my coat! ) tells me she was not happy about it either.
The vote was unanimous to keep me. I did not wish to stay after all that.
Tomorrow they have an open board meeting to tell people what happened, as transparency is ironically a promise we made to the community so they know exactly who and what they're supporting. I won't be there. But a lot of angry and confused people will be. I'm glad I'll be missing it, but I have a feeling I'll hear all about it. I'm told there will be some calling for Pres' resignation. We shall see, I guess.
I started this feeling lower than low. Tonight I'm surrounded by positivity and I feel GOOD about this decision. Is this Karma? It feels like Karma.
Steps are already being taken to form what we will call The Fringe Farm. We will collect fresh farm goods donated by local farmers and deliver to homes that need a little extra, focusing on those that live between communities and people new to rural life. Eventually I hope to offer clothing and household goods, but I need to find a source outside the community so I'm not taking from the original group.
I also have a preliminary board. Comprised of 3 of 5 members of the original board haha
I've told then they have to finish their term at the group (because they do damn good work, and it's not fair to those that need them to just walk away-hypocritical? Msybe. But i refuse to torpedo the group ). 2 still submitted resignations because they're just floored by that last meeting. Theirs was depending upon mine, so their exit meetings are being scheduled for next week. Because they no longer have a secretary to record minutes I'm being asked to. I'm also being asked to submit my name for Pres should the current one agree to resign.
I haven't decided if I will. I feel that will come across as petty, and tbh it's no longer my business.
Thank you for the encouragement. I'm not sure if I would have had the courage to attend if not for the overwhelming kindness and support shown here. By strangers. * shakes head*. You have no idea how much this meant to me when I needed it.
Thank you.
2023.03.28 10:47 liftTheMat 22 [M4F] gateway cubao
I did something stupid today hahahaha one time thing i think bc i wanna disassociate my self forever if u know what i mean, de jk lang hahaha pero if you're near and want to chat with somebody irl, tambay lang ako dito then baka mga 5:30-ish alis na ko
Dm me na lang ahahaha andito lang ako sa taco bell foodcourt
submitted by liftTheMat to PhR4Friends [link] [comments]
Dm me na lang ahahaha andito lang ako sa taco bell foodcourt
2023.03.28 10:46 nik_avirem Been over a year since I have been locked out of my character
Due to the current world situation, I have been completely locked out of my ESO account with no access to it at all.
I was born in Russia, but have moved out of there to the UK nearly 9 years ago. However, most of my online presence accounts, due to me not having any foresight as a child logically, were made there, including my PSN and ESO account. Still, with the sanctions, I can’t buy PS Plus or the new DLCs. Neither can I buy local PS plus cards because even if I could enter the code, they would not work becayse of different regions. My character has been standing with Lyranth waiting to hand in the last step of An Apocalyptic Situation for over a year, and I never even started Deadlands.
While it is not directly any fault of mine or ESO, I am just lost at what to do at this point. With WoW and Blizzard, I gave them my utility bills and they swapped my region, just like that. With Destiny 2, we have cross save and cross platform, so I bought it on Steam and continued there with GeForce Now as I don’t have a gaming PC (works great btw). With FFXIV, I was old enough to have a gut feeling something bad is gonna happen so I made a UK account upfront.
Now Sony is the only company that does not allow region changes after 16(!) years of PSN existing. Neither does ESO provide any character transfers - the Russian support was extremely deadpan about this, ignoring any of my other questions like “what are my options”, just saying “we don’t transfer characters”. I say deadpan because they did not acknowledge anything else I said in the ticket, compared to how say Blizzard support often at least does that and tries to sympathise. Though I imagine the issue is with unique names, so that being most likely a server transfer since we have one server per platform (if I understand this correctly), I’d imagine it should be possible with a prompted name change?
I am really out of options and I don’t know what I can do. I can’t fathom doing everything all over again after 9 years of progress. I think about this nearly daily and I miss the game. I guess I am hoping if someone knows a way to bypass this?
submitted by nik_avirem to elderscrollsonline [link] [comments]
I was born in Russia, but have moved out of there to the UK nearly 9 years ago. However, most of my online presence accounts, due to me not having any foresight as a child logically, were made there, including my PSN and ESO account. Still, with the sanctions, I can’t buy PS Plus or the new DLCs. Neither can I buy local PS plus cards because even if I could enter the code, they would not work becayse of different regions. My character has been standing with Lyranth waiting to hand in the last step of An Apocalyptic Situation for over a year, and I never even started Deadlands.
While it is not directly any fault of mine or ESO, I am just lost at what to do at this point. With WoW and Blizzard, I gave them my utility bills and they swapped my region, just like that. With Destiny 2, we have cross save and cross platform, so I bought it on Steam and continued there with GeForce Now as I don’t have a gaming PC (works great btw). With FFXIV, I was old enough to have a gut feeling something bad is gonna happen so I made a UK account upfront.
Now Sony is the only company that does not allow region changes after 16(!) years of PSN existing. Neither does ESO provide any character transfers - the Russian support was extremely deadpan about this, ignoring any of my other questions like “what are my options”, just saying “we don’t transfer characters”. I say deadpan because they did not acknowledge anything else I said in the ticket, compared to how say Blizzard support often at least does that and tries to sympathise. Though I imagine the issue is with unique names, so that being most likely a server transfer since we have one server per platform (if I understand this correctly), I’d imagine it should be possible with a prompted name change?
I am really out of options and I don’t know what I can do. I can’t fathom doing everything all over again after 9 years of progress. I think about this nearly daily and I miss the game. I guess I am hoping if someone knows a way to bypass this?