Prowers journal

(Repost because it did not get enough attention) A future Sonic game... created in my dreams.

2022.10.30 05:24 AceSAMM (Repost because it did not get enough attention) A future Sonic game... created in my dreams.

So, there was a random dream I had months ago about a supposed demo of a new Sonic game. This dream is one of the weirdest, yet most memorable ones for me to write in a Dream Journal of mine. I'm just sharing it in hopes for you guys to enjoy it, so yeah.
So the dream I had was of a Sonic game with so many playable characters. It was awesome. Everyone looks fun to play as. It was a demo though, but you can see all the playable characters in a museum with artwork, video of them, and dumb names given to those characters. ‘Sonic Touch’ is Sonic, who touches the air to switch traits that he has to be more powerful, speedy, elemental, etc.
In the video, it included Classic Sonic (using the ‘touch’ ability [don't ask]), which was a big red flag for everything in the upcoming game, such as story. There is “‘Tails’ Miles Prower” which is grammatically wrong. I haven’t seen what he can do yet. (Note: Obviously it’s flying) ‘Knuckles Punch’, which has not much to say other than it’s knuckles. I have to mention the loading screen for a second.
It is artwork in a mysterious place with ancient stone totem poles at night, with four characters from left to right, Knuckles, Sonic, Amy, and Tails, wondering where they are. (Note: Holy moly, I almost, ALMOST predicted Sonic Frontiers artwork by complete ACCIDENT. I’m not joking. If Tails was put next to Sonic, it would’ve been similar) Then there is, ‘Amy Hammer’… AMY. HAMMER. What is the purpose with this naming scheme anyway?? There was ‘Cream the Rabbit’. Hey, they got the name right!
There were more like Big, Vector, Espio, and Charmy. But I haven’t got to their descriptions yet. Then the TWO stages I played through. One was more cinematic, but gameplay is great, and the other is pure, fun, gameplay. Sonic and Amy’s stages respectively.
It was weird though, cause there was this depressed character in the Hub World that repeatedly said “I am my future self!” which makes no sense (also, he looks like he got caught on fire). But during this climb to the ship with Eggman, this character spoke like Papyrus and even has the Papyrus font as text. This level though was pretty cool, the music was epic, the climbing combined with the camera angles makes it feel awesome to infiltrate Eggman’s ship. That Papyrus sounding guy, it was slightly creepy, and at the end where this guy got angry, and went into the ship Eggman was on. I went in, and I had one chance to defend myself before this guy shoots something (which turned out to be a tiny firey rock), so I used the Touch ability (holding a button and choosing from a wheel) and activated ‘Fire Touch’ which caused that guy to shoot the rock on Sonic’s forehead, which didn’t work out well, and I instead blew this part of the ship up.
Sonic escapes and the guy gets launches into nowhere, and in a mourning tone, he yells out, “I AM MY FUTURE SELF!!” So that was pretty odd. I still didn’t understand that. The Amy stage was actually really fun. They learned from their mistakes as they not only gave her a decent speed that is still pretty fast, but using the hammer is reliable now!
For the longest time, (not counting Heroes since all characters play way too similarly) Amy’s controls were not good, so I’m very happy they fixed it, finally! They gave her the spin jump which is great, and a homing attack(?) but she uses her hammer. Amy feels like sonic, but her power aspect is much greater, as stomps do much bigger splash damage and has a sweet spot (being the hammer), she has an attack while Sonic just has the boost. She can use the X button midair to do a hammer attack which is a much powerful spin jump you need to time, whatever (Note: Kinda like Sonic’s Insta-Shield, with better range. I have no time to overanalyze Amy, even if she is one of my favorite characters, but I’m talking about her controls anyway as well as her stage.
Yeah, some parts of it is hallways, but it is combat focused with some rooms to fight in. The music also sounded similar to Bingo Highway from Sonic Heroes, just with less electronic instruments. Moving on to the Y button. The Y button is used for special attacks, like when Amy uses it, it is a huge spin attack with her hammer to hit enemies surrounding you, or to defeat more tankier enemies, though you need ‘Skill Points’.
Not those ones where you could upgrade your character, the one that feels more like a meter… it’s terrible. Not the attack itself, but the SP, which is in a terrible UI placed to the side. All of them are displayed through (WHOLE) numbers, which is not as useful compared to an analogous meter, so I got hit a few times when I had only one ‘Skill Point’ when it actually had a fraction of it. You get punished for using a special move by giving you a weaker version that also has a smaller hitbox. How did they not notice what is wrong with this “meter”!?
Hopefully they’ll update this or make a Demo 2 and make the UI more closer to Sonic games, as well as sprucing up the UI to look good and helpful. Eventually while trying to S rank Amy’s stage, the game crashed and I woke up. The end.
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2022.10.26 01:24 nerdrahtio A Knights Templar Creepy Pasta

(Audio version on youtube) https://youtu.be/GTwQuNxZHIg

The Templars Survive
Beneath Us
A Knights Templar Creepypasta
By Sam B. Sears
Intro
This is Dr. Clive Bennett. I’m translating the following, from letters, received by an anonymous drop off. The main text was written in Latin, accompanied with a small note, written in Italian, explaining the nature of that text. I will save that note until the end.
Given that this opens a new investigation, one which may involve a great deal of research and much activity to chronicle, I have decided to open another volume of my journal. These journals began with my own encounter in Alaska. That encounter first exposed me, and my family, to the true nature of the earth, and the things that dwell within it.
After we fell through some ice, we found ourselves in an abandoned underground village. We found what we soon realized was the journal of a deceased cryptid hunter, and it began with the following, “The Earth isn’t hollow, it’s porous and each little pocket holds something wonderful, terrifying, or both.” Needless to say, the contents of that journal, and the experiences of that journey has changed the course of our lives.
I am now chronicling all the information I can find in handwriting, typed text, and in audio, as a part of my growing library of knowledge of the porous earth. I’ll be duplicating it in many places, to ensure it survives into the future. If you find this volume first, I don’t know what has happened to me, but I urge you to seek out the others. If my foundation, Rahtio, were to fall, someone else would need to protect the people from the things chronicled in my journals.
For this volume, I must warn you, it seems that among other things the porous earth holds, that centuries ago, Templars found something deep within the earth, that can live in and control our very bones.
Hear or read the following words from Baruch, a scribe of the Knights Templar.
Prologue
I have been ordered by Sir Gerad Van Bloome, a commander of the knight’s Templar to record the tragedy I have experienced as well as inform you of the contents of the small chest I’ve sent you. Given the importance of this record and the spiritual nature of the event detailed within, I suspect you will want to bring it before the eyes of even the Pontiff himself.
The chest is curiously unique in style. Seemingly made with blue dyed wood, and brandishing silver supports. It’s vibrancy may draw you, but do not open the chest. If you were to hold it ,you would notice how light it is, even for its small size. Even after reading about its contents it may be best to never open it, but if you do, do so with caution. I must urg you, do not listen to the contents of the chest. It will speak, Your eyes will be drawn to it, but you must remember: whatever it claims to be, it’s deeds, and the deeds of those under its influence betray it’s true intent.
The messenger before you is my trusted friend Alfronso, a fellow scribe and translator in service to the Knights Templar. I regret that I could not deliver the chest, and it’s supernatural contents to you myself, but seeing as how I witnessed the path to the location of the events recorded within, I have been sent with a new group of Knights to pursue those who slew my companions. and hopefully reconnect with Sir Gerad himself, who even now is journeying deep into what we learned is called, “the porous earth.”
What follows is outlandish, otherworldly even. It may be tempting to open the chest to verify my account at various points, but do not succumb.Not only have my companions been slain, but I have even seen corpses profaned by macabre powers, and I don’t wish that upon you. I know with such a lofty claim coming from an admitted servant, I must first briefly tell you my story, as a way to attest to my loyalty. They call me Baruch, though it is not my name.
Before I was called into service, I grew up among my people , whom you call Mohammedians, although as one who knows both cultures and several languages, I can assure you the people of my birth do think such a name highly irreverent. I lived in a small village with a nearby Christian monastery. They had lived there peaceably for some time before my birth. Sadly, peace came through intentional and mutual avoidance. When a famine came to our village, the Christian monks came to our aid. The act of kindness and offer of stored grain allowed some of the distrust to be placed aside and trade between our peoples opened. They grew various vegetables that we lacked, some herbal medicines and spices as well as weaved clothes. Together our plates were more diverse and bodies warmer in the winter when we worked together.
After an unfortunate accident with one of our donkeys, my father had difficulty getting around, so I took our goods to the monastery for trade from the age of 5. I would lead one or two of our donkeys carrying the sacks of grain on their back all the way to the monastery. I was nervous when I first arrived, seeing its high walls, and the pale complexion of the men who stood at the gate. They greeted me with warm smiles, and freshly drawn well water in a wooden cup.
I made fast friends with those curious neighbors.. I played with young Afonso, an orphan boy my age, in their care, and learned from the elderly Abbot Maine and eventually knew all in between them.At first, I could barely communicate since I only knew a few words in their native tongue. But their gentility and patience coaxed me to come out of my shell. They would smile and play and listen, and my proficiency grew by leaps and bounds. At times, I even felt like a scholar myself when they invited me to teach them my own language. They taught me, and I taught them, and then something marvelous happened.
Few men in my village could read or write even in our own tongue. When I saw young Alfonso being taught to read, I was curious. I had accepted without question that the older monks could, Alfonso was close to my age, having come to the monastery as an orphan. He looked just as interested in learning as he did when we would play, laugh and dance while I tarried after trading goods. He was deep in his study. I caught him this way, because I had come at a different time of a day, having been detained by other duties. He invited me to sit beside him and see the words he was learning.
By the time I was 10 I was reading and writing both in French and Arabic. The monks were willing to help me grow in my own language, as well as theirs. Amongst their beautiful high ceiling rooms were many books which they freely gave me access to. My father was a moderate and peaceful man, and while he didn’t bring it up, he was no doubt aware of the longer and longer stays at the monastery. I enjoyed this time of peace and learning, but it was not to last. After our village cleric died, a new one came to town.
This new Cleric was the brother to my mother, and was in our home often. Something about the man always bothered me, so without having been told to do so, when I was gifted with my own little library, I hid them, and read them only when I could sneak off between morning prayers and chores. Our house was near the outskirts of the village, so I could travel and climb some ways up a nearby mountain and trust I could have privacy. They had given me a copy of a prayer book first, and eventually they gave me some of the Holy books. The monks would quiz me about their content when I would see them, and they would ask to learn more about the Holy books and writings of my people. It was peaceful, until my uncle discovered what I was learning.
Once he had assumed the role of cleric he called for greater separation from those outside our race and religion and began to test us for our loyalty to our God. The previous cleric had seemed so peaceful. He was devout, but less brash, and in some way I suspect that was because he was less fearful of others, and more knowledgeable. He was a far cry from my uncle.
My fiery uncle soon began to inquire about my time with the monks, asking why I was helping them unload our goods and talking with them. In truth, they unloaded everything I would bring to allow me more time to read, and I only had told my uncle I was doing more work, to excuse his questions about how long I was taking.
When famine came again, due to poor weather, my uncle, the cleric, capitalized on the opportunity to widen the borders of our village. He even set sights on the monastery and claimed that land too, belonged to us. The monks, he claimed, would need to pay a tax on the grain we had previously been trading with them. My Uncle stated that land they owned ultimately belonged to us, because they were from another country and people, and they must pay a percentage to us for any business down here, even trade with our village. Even now, I think my uncle was sincerely concerned about the village, making sure they would have food, but he wasn’t concerned about anyone who wasn’t following him. The monks were still trading with us, but as they cared for their own, it wasn’t enough in his eyes, as they were celibate, and our village was full of families who were growing faster than they could with only occasional new members sent from other places. Increased people meant increased needs and the trade was harder to balance.
I, along with other traders, found ourselves escorted by my uncle, who insisted not only that we bring less to trade, but demanded some of the previous grain back. He wouldn’t accept more favorable trade rates alone, he wanted them to hand him something. He knew the monks traded with other villages and other travelers, and he informed them, since they weren’t from here, all those transactions would need to be taxed. When the monks refused, he informed them, they would comply, and must allow a representative from the village at all times in their monastery to ensure the tax occurred.
I can still remember Abbot Maine, looking at me, as he was surrounded by his most senior monks. His eyes conveyed sympathy, and I believe he pondered suggesting me as a representative, but my Uncle pointed towards our village’s best swordsmen as that representative. The monks told them they would need to pray, and their gates were shut. No trade happened that day.
While the divisions of men now seem petty in the light of what I now know we face, even then, I was old enough to know the tension would not easily be relieved. My uncle’s interrogations about the monastery were relentless. He fired off question after question. He wanted to extract from me every detail of my time there—from the size of the windows to the number of the monks, and of course, he wanted to know what weaponry they housed. I knew what he was planning.
With trading halted, I clung to my books, and I prayed. On the fourth day after my Uncle’s ultimatum, I came down into the center of our village after some time reading and praying nearby. I discovered my uncle speaking to many men who had assembled around him. As he spoke of outsiders and their danger, the men cheered, and my eyes were distracted by an object above him. It took a few seconds to realize what I was seeing. My uncle stood proudly in front of what I assume was his accomplishment, a monk’s head on a pike. It has haunted my dreams all these years, and now another severed head is likely to be the source of any future nightmares, for me and maybe for you. I speak of course, of the severed head contained in the chest before you.
That day, so long ago, I had backed away sheepishly, and I stumbled my way home, stopping only to retch. My heart was racing, but I dared not run. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. As I entered my door, I found my father. He embraced me, and said, “My dear boy, you didn’t take all your books with you this morning, and your uncle knows.” I felt finality in his hug. “You must know what is coming next.”
I did know, but my father did not want to deal with my perceived shame upon our family in the same way our uncle would. Even my Uncle blamed the monks for corrupting me. The monk he had killed was sent on a mission of peace, but upon torture, admitted they had even given books to a village child. My Uncle had already suspected me. My father was supposed to turn me over to my uncle when he found me, but instead, he sent me to warn my friends. I collected my books, and headed to the monastery. I was there for an hour before a raiding party came. The same doors that quickly opened for me, were shut and barricaded after my warning.
Abbot Maine bid me, and Alfonso join him in his office. He used my real name then, but being that someone named Mohammed would stand out among the knight Templar, I would eventually adopt Baruch as my new name. He was the scribe of the prophet Jeremiah and it fits my duties. It was the Abbot, who was ultimately responsible for that path. Given my prowers for learning languages quickly, He offered to send me, as well as Alfonso, to another monastery, to escape what was coming, but also, so we could be trained as scribes and have work beyond the toil of the farms, work that would use my mind to the potential that kind old man saw in me.
I never saw my family or that monastery again. I hadn’t even settled into a new and bigger monastery, when I had been sent word of the devastation that occurred shortly after I was sent out a secret back passageway. Over the next decade I took comfort in learning and reading, and the church saw fit to assign me to a group of Knights Templar.
In my small village I had never heard of “The poor fellow soldiers of Christ.” I Learned of the order’s foundation and the desire to protect pilgrims who journeyed to Jerusalem, especially after repeated treaty violations that had attempted to keep the peace without swords. This piqued my curiosity. The Priest who connected me with the order, hoped I would be an aid in translating between the increasingly diverse knights, sergeants, and servants, even teaching them Latin if they didn’t know it, and translating between them and the pilgrims they protected on the roads to Jerusalem and even the Bedouin bandits, many of whom spoke my original arabic. I hoped that with some commonality I could prevent bloodshed between multiple peoples, all of which I view as having a sacred right to life. I hope that language itself could be a way to unite people. I also hoped for adventure, and learning new languages and encountering new people, but couldn’t fathom finding the contents of the chest I sent along with this letter or the events that befell my party.
(chapter 1 of 2 here: https://rahtio.com/the-templars-beneath-us-part-1/ )
submitted by nerdrahtio to CreepyPastaHunters [link] [comments]


2022.10.26 01:03 nerdrahtio A Knights Templar Creepypasta

The Templars Survive
Beneath Us
A Knights Templar Creepypasta
By Sam B. Sears
Intro
This is Dr. Clive Bennett. I’m translating the following, from letters, received by an anonymous drop off. The main text was written in Latin, accompanied with a small note, written in Italian, explaining the nature of that text. I will save that note until the end.
Given that this opens a new investigation, one which may involve a great deal of research and much activity to chronicle, I have decided to open another volume of my journal. These journals began with my own encounter in Alaska. That encounter first exposed me, and my family, to the true nature of the earth, and the things that dwell within it.
After we fell through some ice, we found ourselves in an abandoned underground village. We found what we soon realized was the journal of a deceased cryptid hunter, and it began with the following, “The Earth isn’t hollow, it’s porous and each little pocket holds something wonderful, terrifying, or both.” Needless to say, the contents of that journal, and the experiences of that journey has changed the course of our lives.
I am now chronicling all the information I can find in handwriting, typed text, and in audio, as a part of my growing library of knowledge of the porous earth. I’ll be duplicating it in many places, to ensure it survives into the future. If you find this volume first, I don’t know what has happened to me, but I urge you to seek out the others. If my foundation, Rahtio, were to fall, someone else would need to protect the people from the things chronicled in my journals.
For this volume, I must warn you, it seems that among other things the porous earth holds, that centuries ago, Templars found something deep within the earth, that can live in and control our very bones.
Hear or read the following words from Baruch, a scribe of the Knights Templar.
Prologue
I have been ordered by Sir Gerad Van Bloome, a commander of the knight’s Templar to record the tragedy I have experienced as well as inform you of the contents of the small chest I’ve sent you. Given the importance of this record and the spiritual nature of the event detailed within, I suspect you will want to bring it before the eyes of even the Pontiff himself.
The chest is curiously unique in style. Seemingly made with blue dyed wood, and brandishing silver supports. It’s vibrancy may draw you, but do not open the chest. If you were to hold it ,you would notice how light it is, even for its small size. Even after reading about its contents it may be best to never open it, but if you do, do so with caution. I must urg you, do not listen to the contents of the chest. It will speak, Your eyes will be drawn to it, but you must remember: whatever it claims to be, it’s deeds, and the deeds of those under its influence betray it’s true intent.
The messenger before you is my trusted friend Alfronso, a fellow scribe and translator in service to the Knights Templar. I regret that I could not deliver the chest, and it’s supernatural contents to you myself, but seeing as how I witnessed the path to the location of the events recorded within, I have been sent with a new group of Knights to pursue those who slew my companions. and hopefully reconnect with Sir Gerad himself, who even now is journeying deep into what we learned is called, “the porous earth.”
What follows is outlandish, otherworldly even. It may be tempting to open the chest to verify my account at various points, but do not succumb.Not only have my companions been slain, but I have even seen corpses profaned by macabre powers, and I don’t wish that upon you. I know with such a lofty claim coming from an admitted servant, I must first briefly tell you my story, as a way to attest to my loyalty. They call me Baruch, though it is not my name.
Before I was called into service, I grew up among my people , whom you call Mohammedians, although as one who knows both cultures and several languages, I can assure you the people of my birth do think such a name highly irreverent. I lived in a small village with a nearby Christian monastery. They had lived there peaceably for some time before my birth. Sadly, peace came through intentional and mutual avoidance. When a famine came to our village, the Christian monks came to our aid. The act of kindness and offer of stored grain allowed some of the distrust to be placed aside and trade between our peoples opened. They grew various vegetables that we lacked, some herbal medicines and spices as well as weaved clothes. Together our plates were more diverse and bodies warmer in the winter when we worked together.
After an unfortunate accident with one of our donkeys, my father had difficulty getting around, so I took our goods to the monastery for trade from the age of 5. I would lead one or two of our donkeys carrying the sacks of grain on their back all the way to the monastery. I was nervous when I first arrived, seeing its high walls, and the pale complexion of the men who stood at the gate. They greeted me with warm smiles, and freshly drawn well water in a wooden cup.
I made fast friends with those curious neighbors.. I played with young Afonso, an orphan boy my age, in their care, and learned from the elderly Abbot Maine and eventually knew all in between them.At first, I could barely communicate since I only knew a few words in their native tongue. But their gentility and patience coaxed me to come out of my shell. They would smile and play and listen, and my proficiency grew by leaps and bounds. At times, I even felt like a scholar myself when they invited me to teach them my own language. They taught me, and I taught them, and then something marvelous happened.
Few men in my village could read or write even in our own tongue. When I saw young Alfonso being taught to read, I was curious. I had accepted without question that the older monks could, Alfonso was close to my age, having come to the monastery as an orphan. He looked just as interested in learning as he did when we would play, laugh and dance while I tarried after trading goods. He was deep in his study. I caught him this way, because I had come at a different time of a day, having been detained by other duties. He invited me to sit beside him and see the words he was learning.
By the time I was 10 I was reading and writing both in French and Arabic. The monks were willing to help me grow in my own language, as well as theirs. Amongst their beautiful high ceiling rooms were many books which they freely gave me access to. My father was a moderate and peaceful man, and while he didn’t bring it up, he was no doubt aware of the longer and longer stays at the monastery. I enjoyed this time of peace and learning, but it was not to last. After our village cleric died, a new one came to town.
This new Cleric was the brother to my mother, and was in our home often. Something about the man always bothered me, so without having been told to do so, when I was gifted with my own little library, I hid them, and read them only when I could sneak off between morning prayers and chores. Our house was near the outskirts of the village, so I could travel and climb some ways up a nearby mountain and trust I could have privacy. They had given me a copy of a prayer book first, and eventually they gave me some of the Holy books. The monks would quiz me about their content when I would see them, and they would ask to learn more about the Holy books and writings of my people. It was peaceful, until my uncle discovered what I was learning.
Once he had assumed the role of cleric he called for greater separation from those outside our race and religion and began to test us for our loyalty to our God. The previous cleric had seemed so peaceful. He was devout, but less brash, and in some way I suspect that was because he was less fearful of others, and more knowledgeable. He was a far cry from my uncle.
My fiery uncle soon began to inquire about my time with the monks, asking why I was helping them unload our goods and talking with them. In truth, they unloaded everything I would bring to allow me more time to read, and I only had told my uncle I was doing more work, to excuse his questions about how long I was taking.
When famine came again, due to poor weather, my uncle, the cleric, capitalized on the opportunity to widen the borders of our village. He even set sights on the monastery and claimed that land too, belonged to us. The monks, he claimed, would need to pay a tax on the grain we had previously been trading with them. My Uncle stated that land they owned ultimately belonged to us, because they were from another country and people, and they must pay a percentage to us for any business down here, even trade with our village. Even now, I think my uncle was sincerely concerned about the village, making sure they would have food, but he wasn’t concerned about anyone who wasn’t following him. The monks were still trading with us, but as they cared for their own, it wasn’t enough in his eyes, as they were celibate, and our village was full of families who were growing faster than they could with only occasional new members sent from other places. Increased people meant increased needs and the trade was harder to balance.
I, along with other traders, found ourselves escorted by my uncle, who insisted not only that we bring less to trade, but demanded some of the previous grain back. He wouldn’t accept more favorable trade rates alone, he wanted them to hand him something. He knew the monks traded with other villages and other travelers, and he informed them, since they weren’t from here, all those transactions would need to be taxed. When the monks refused, he informed them, they would comply, and must allow a representative from the village at all times in their monastery to ensure the tax occurred.
I can still remember Abbot Maine, looking at me, as he was surrounded by his most senior monks. His eyes conveyed sympathy, and I believe he pondered suggesting me as a representative, but my Uncle pointed towards our village’s best swordsmen as that representative. The monks told them they would need to pray, and their gates were shut. No trade happened that day.
While the divisions of men now seem petty in the light of what I now know we face, even then, I was old enough to know the tension would not easily be relieved. My uncle’s interrogations about the monastery were relentless. He fired off question after question. He wanted to extract from me every detail of my time there—from the size of the windows to the number of the monks, and of course, he wanted to know what weaponry they housed. I knew what he was planning.
With trading halted, I clung to my books, and I prayed. On the fourth day after my Uncle’s ultimatum, I came down into the center of our village after some time reading and praying nearby. I discovered my uncle speaking to many men who had assembled around him. As he spoke of outsiders and their danger, the men cheered, and my eyes were distracted by an object above him. It took a few seconds to realize what I was seeing. My uncle stood proudly in front of what I assume was his accomplishment, a monk’s head on a pike. It has haunted my dreams all these years, and now another severed head is likely to be the source of any future nightmares, for me and maybe for you. I speak of course, of the severed head contained in the chest before you.
That day, so long ago, I had backed away sheepishly, and I stumbled my way home, stopping only to retch. My heart was racing, but I dared not run. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. As I entered my door, I found my father. He embraced me, and said, “My dear boy, you didn’t take all your books with you this morning, and your uncle knows.” I felt finality in his hug. “You must know what is coming next.”
I did know, but my father did not want to deal with my perceived shame upon our family in the same way our uncle would. Even my Uncle blamed the monks for corrupting me. The monk he had killed was sent on a mission of peace, but upon torture, admitted they had even given books to a village child. My Uncle had already suspected me. My father was supposed to turn me over to my uncle when he found me, but instead, he sent me to warn my friends. I collected my books, and headed to the monastery. I was there for an hour before a raiding party came. The same doors that quickly opened for me, were shut and barricaded after my warning.
Abbot Maine bid me, and Alfonso join him in his office. He used my real name then, but being that someone named Mohammed would stand out among the knight Templar, I would eventually adopt Baruch as my new name. He was the scribe of the prophet Jeremiah and it fits my duties. It was the Abbot, who was ultimately responsible for that path. Given my prowers for learning languages quickly, He offered to send me, as well as Alfonso, to another monastery, to escape what was coming, but also, so we could be trained as scribes and have work beyond the toil of the farms, work that would use my mind to the potential that kind old man saw in me.
I never saw my family or that monastery again. I hadn’t even settled into a new and bigger monastery, when I had been sent word of the devastation that occurred shortly after I was sent out a secret back passageway. Over the next decade I took comfort in learning and reading, and the church saw fit to assign me to a group of Knights Templar.
In my small village I had never heard of “The poor fellow soldiers of Christ.” I Learned of the order’s foundation and the desire to protect pilgrims who journeyed to Jerusalem, especially after repeated treaty violations that had attempted to keep the peace without swords. This piqued my curiosity. The Priest who connected me with the order, hoped I would be an aid in translating between the increasingly diverse knights, sergeants, and servants, even teaching them Latin if they didn’t know it, and translating between them and the pilgrims they protected on the roads to Jerusalem and even the Bedouin bandits, many of whom spoke my original Arabic. I hoped that with some commonality I could prevent bloodshed between multiple peoples, all of which I view as having a sacred right to life. I hope that language itself could be a way to unite people. I also hoped for adventure, and learning new languages and encountering new people, but couldn’t fathom finding the contents of the chest I sent along with this letter or the events that befell my party.

Full story (and link to audio version) Here :
https://rahtio.com/the-templars-beneath-us-part-1/
(If required, I can post it all here, that's just super long!)
submitted by nerdrahtio to stayawake [link] [comments]


2022.10.19 17:36 gnossos_p That day I hit 90,000 .....

That day I hit 90,000 ..... submitted by gnossos_p to lastfm [link] [comments]


2021.10.01 10:13 sneaky_dragon [North America] RHDV2 alert in Canada, United States (Washington state, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, Colorado, Nevada, California, Utah, Wyoming, Florida, Montana, Oregon, Idaho, Arkansas, South Dakota, Georgia, Mississippi, Minnesota), and Mexico - Oct 1

Last updated Oct 1 2021.
This is a post to concatenate current RHDV2 alerts in North America. Added Mississippi and Minnesota.

What is RHD?

Rabbit viral haemorrhagic disease (VHD) is a highly contagious disease that mainly affects rabbits of the Oryctolagus cuniculus species but has also been confirmed to affect various species of cottontails (Sylvilagus spp.) and hares (Lepus spp.). VHD is also known as rabbit haemorrhagic disease (RHD), rabbit calicivirus disease (RCD), rabbit calici-virus disease (RCVD), and viral hemorrhagic disease of rabbits (VHDR).
It is caused by the rabbit haemorrhagic disease virus (RHDV), also known as rabbit calicivirus (RCV).
Symptoms will generally manifest in three ways:
More resources: https://wabbitwiki.com/wiki/Viral_haemorrhagic_disease

Additional resources

Interactive USDA map of current outbreaks
A few Facebook groups to join for the most current news and resources on the disease:
Please see http://rabbitors.info/rhd for a list of veterinarians in the US that may be offering RHDV2 vaccinations.
Medgene Labs has now developed a US-made inactivated recombinant RHD vaccine that has received emergency approval from the USDA.
A few general news articles on the disease in the US:

Current outbreaks

Canada

British Columbia (since Feb 2018)

Alberta (since May 2021)

United States

Washington (since Jul 2019)

New Mexico (since Mar 2020)

Arizona (since Apr 2020)

Texas (since Apr 2020)

Colorado (since Apr 2020)

Colorado county map of outbreaks

Nevada (since Apr 2020)

California (since May 2020)

Alameda (June 2021) Kern Los Angeles Orange Riverside San Bernardino San Diego

Utah (since Jun 2020)

Confirmed cases in Utah

Wyoming (since Dec 2020)

Florida (since Dec 2020)

Montana (since Feb 2021)

Oregon (since Mar 2021)

Idaho (since Mar 2021)

Arkansas (since Mar 2021)

South Dakota (since May 2021)

Georgia (since Jun 2021)

Mississippi (since Sep 2021)

Minnesota (since Sep 2021)

Mexico (since Apr 2020)

NOTE: Mexico now has RHDV2 vaccinations domestically produced by Pronabive.

What can I do to protect my rabbits from RHD in the US?

From the HRS:
How to Protect Your Rabbits
submitted by sneaky_dragon to Rabbits [link] [comments]


2021.07.28 18:15 Zamicol SCEDD Housing Project for Southeast Colorado : The Prowers Journal

submitted by Zamicol to pueblo [link] [comments]


2021.07.06 09:14 sneaky_dragon [North America] RHDV2 alert in Canada, United States (Washington state, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, Colorado, Nevada, California, Utah, Wyoming, Florida, Montana, Oregon, Idaho, Arkansas, South Dakota, Georgia), and Mexico - Jul 6

NEWEST POST: https://redd.it/pz3in1
Last updated Jul 6 2021.
This is a post to concatenate current RHDV2 alerts in North America. Added Georgia to the list.

What is RHD?

Rabbit viral haemorrhagic disease (VHD) is a highly contagious disease that mainly affects rabbits of the Oryctolagus cuniculus species but has also been confirmed to affect various species of cottontails (Sylvilagus spp.) and hares (Lepus spp.). VHD is also known as rabbit haemorrhagic disease (RHD), rabbit calicivirus disease (RCD), rabbit calici-virus disease (RCVD), and viral hemorrhagic disease of rabbits (VHDR).
It is caused by the rabbit haemorrhagic disease virus (RHDV), also known as rabbit calicivirus (RCV).
Symptoms will generally manifest in three ways:[4]
More resources: https://wabbitwiki.com/wiki/Viral_haemorrhagic_disease

Additional resources

Interactive USDA map of current outbreaks
A few Facebook groups to join for the most current news and resources on the disease:
See this PDF file hosted on the Wabbitwiki for a list of veterinarians currently offering RHDV2 vaccines in the US (as of Feb 5 2021) - maintained by James Wilson on Facebook.
A few general news articles on the disease in the US:
change.org Petition for Emergency Approval for Import of a Vaccine against Rabbit Hemorrhagic Disease (RHDV2)

Current outbreaks

Canada

British Columbia (since Feb 2018)

Alberta (since May 2021)

United States

Washington (since Jul 2019)

New Mexico (since Mar 2020)

Arizona (since Apr 2020)

Texas (since Apr 2020)

Colorado (since Apr 2020)

Colorado county map of outbreaks

Nevada (since Apr 2020)

California (since May 2020)

Alameda (June 2021) Kern Los Angeles Orange Riverside San Bernardino San Diego

Utah (since Jun 2020)

Confirmed cases in Utah

Wyoming (since Dec 2020)

Florida (since Dec 2020)

Montana (since Feb 2021)

Oregon (since Mar 2021)

Idaho (since Mar 2021)

Arkansas (since Mar 2021)

South Dakota (since May 2021)

Georgia (since Jun 2021)

Mexico (since Apr 2020)

NOTE: Mexico now has RHDV2 vaccinations domestically produced by Pronabive.

What can I do to protect my rabbits from RHD in the US?

From the HRS:
How to Protect Your Rabbits
submitted by sneaky_dragon to Rabbits [link] [comments]


2021.05.22 09:43 sneaky_dragon [North America] RHDV2 alert in Canada, United States (Washington state, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, Colorado, Nevada, California, Utah, Wyoming, Florida, Montana, Oregon, Idaho, Arkansas, South Dakota), and Mexico - May 22

NEWEST UPDATE: https://redd.it/oepx1g
Last updated May 22 2021.
This is a post to concatenate current RHDV2 alerts in North America. Added Alberta, Canada, and South Dakota to the list. Cleaned up some old news link - they can be found on old RHD alert posts.

What is RHD?

Rabbit viral haemorrhagic disease (VHD) is a highly contagious disease that mainly affects rabbits of the Oryctolagus cuniculus species but has also been confirmed to affect various species of cottontails (Sylvilagus spp.) and hares (Lepus spp.). VHD is also known as rabbit haemorrhagic disease (RHD), rabbit calicivirus disease (RCD), rabbit calici-virus disease (RCVD), and viral hemorrhagic disease of rabbits (VHDR).
It is caused by the rabbit haemorrhagic disease virus (RHDV), also known as rabbit calicivirus (RCV).
Symptoms will generally manifest in three ways:[4]
More resources: https://wabbitwiki.com/wiki/Viral_haemorrhagic_disease

Additional resources

Interactive USDA map of current outbreaks
A few Facebook groups to join for the most current news and resources on the disease:
See this PDF file hosted on the Wabbitwiki for a list of veterinarians currently offering RHDV2 vaccines in the US (as of Feb 5 2021) - maintained by James Wilson on Facebook.
A few general news articles on the disease in the US:
change.org Petition for Emergency Approval for Import of a Vaccine against Rabbit Hemorrhagic Disease (RHDV2)

Current outbreaks

Canada

British Columbia (since Feb 2018)

Alberta (since May 2021)

United States

Washington (since Jul 2019)

New Mexico (since Mar 2020)

Arizona (since Apr 2020)

Texas (since Apr 2020)

Colorado (since Apr 2020)

Colorado county map of outbreaks

Nevada (since Apr 2020)

California (since May 2020)

Utah (since Jun 2020)

Confirmed cases in Utah

Wyoming (since Dec 2020)

Florida (since Dec 2020)

Montana (since Feb 2021)

Oregon (since Mar 2021)

Idaho (since Mar 2021)

Arkansas (since Mar 2021)

South Dakota (since May 2021)

Mexico (since Apr 2020)

NOTE: Mexico now has RHDV2 vaccinations domestically produced by Pronabive.

What can I do to protect my rabbits from RHD in the US?

From the HRS:
How to Protect Your Rabbits
submitted by sneaky_dragon to Rabbits [link] [comments]


2021.04.01 19:53 sneaky_dragon [North America] RHDV2 alert in Canada, United States (Washington state, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, Colorado, Nevada, California, Utah, Wyoming, Florida, Montana, Oregon, Idaho, Arkansas), and Mexico - Apr 1

Please see the newest updated post here: https://redd.it/nidfgs
Last updated Apr 1 2021.
This is a post to concatenate current RHDV2 alerts in North America. Added Idaho, Oregon, and Arkansas to the new list of US states affected.

What is RHD?

Rabbit viral haemorrhagic disease (VHD) is a highly contagious disease that mainly affects rabbits of the Oryctolagus cuniculus species but has also been confirmed to affect various species of cottontails (Sylvilagus spp.) and hares (Lepus spp.). VHD is also known as rabbit haemorrhagic disease (RHD), rabbit calicivirus disease (RCD), rabbit calici-virus disease (RCVD), and viral hemorrhagic disease of rabbits (VHDR).
It is caused by the rabbit haemorrhagic disease virus (RHDV), also known as rabbit calicivirus (RCV).
Symptoms will generally manifest in three ways:[4]
More resources: https://wabbitwiki.com/wiki/Viral_haemorrhagic_disease

Additional resources

Interactive USDA map of current outbreaks
A few Facebook groups to join for the most current news and resources on the disease:
See this PDF file hosted on the Wabbitwiki for a list of veterinarians currently offering RHDV2 vaccines in the US (as of Feb 5 2021) - maintained by James Wilson on Facebook.
A few general news articles on the disease in the US:
change.org Petition for Emergency Approval for Import of a Vaccine against Rabbit Hemorrhagic Disease (RHDV2)

Current outbreaks

Canada

British Columbia (since Feb 2018)

United States

Washington (since Jul 2019)

New Mexico (since Mar 2020)

Arizona (since Apr 2020)

Texas (since Apr 2020)

Colorado (since Apr 2020)

Colorado county map of outbreaks

Nevada (since Apr 2020)

California (since May 2020)

Utah (since Jun 2020)

Confirmed cases in Utah

Wyoming (since Dec 2020)

Florida (since Dec 2020)

Montana (since Feb 2021)

Oregon (since Mar 2021)

Idaho (since Mar 2021)

Arkansas (since Mar 2021)

Mexico (since Apr 2020)

NOTE: Mexico now has RHDV2 vaccinations domestically produced by Pronabive.

What can I do to protect my rabbits from RHD in the US?

From the HRS:
How to Protect Your Rabbits
submitted by sneaky_dragon to Rabbits [link] [comments]


2019.10.01 00:54 jss239 Here Lies The Sinner

All around the church birds chirp and sing, not bothering to commit the familiar landscape to their tiny brains. Bees awaken and carry out their chores robotically, uninterested in the buzz of humanity. Trees stand smiling and welcome the day as it begins with uncaring expressions. A small lizard occupying one of their branches suddenly stands erect: a sound! Curious, it dives to the ground and begins to search for its source. Louder, louder it grows! The lizard steels himself and circles the ground. A moment later, he’s rolled flat between the asphalt parking lot and the tires of a small silver car pulling up in blissful ignorance.
David could hardly keep his eyes open upon first emerging from his grandmother’s car. It was quite early for a tot of eight years, and his body had more than a little trouble adjusting. His Grandma smiled and beckoned him forward through the large double doors of the neatly-preserved Church of the Nescient, mops and brooms and dustpans bundled in one arm while her aged foot held the heavy oak door open with ease. David did as he was told and a moment later felt himself awash in glory.
Golden light spun a variety of gorgeous shapes in front of young David’s imaginative eyes. Pews, yellow-knit and sculpted in a blonde sort of wood surrounded him on all sides, seeming almost to stretch to the horizon. Immediately, he perceived the ceiling to be a million miles high. It was so much bigger on the inside! Granda pushed past him gently and began setting out her utensils before disappearing into a nearby room to grab a mop-bucket. David watched the deep colors dance on his grandmother’s back as she descended the length of the church, awed. Indeed, despite his not first noticing the stained-glass windows surrounding him on all sides, they were quite the center of attention in the lemon-tinted cathedral.
On every wall, a variety of disturbing illustrations detailing scenes from the Bible in brilliant colors stared back at David’s inquisitive eyes. He was familiar with the stories, and the images did not shock him. On the contrary, all he really noticed about them was their wonderful colors: not unlike a kaleidoscope they seemed to him, and he was dazzled.
Suddenly he was startled awake. Grandma had returned as if in an instant. “I’m getting ready to start cleaning.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need anything before I get started?”
David swallowed and clutched the novel in his arms a little tighter, as if confirming to himself that he didn’t need anything at all.
“Alright… well, the kitchen is that way if you need something to drink, and the bathrooms are that way.” Her expression changed. “And also I must ask you behave. Don’t go wandering around, and if you get sleepy, at least take off your shoes before you lie down on the pews. Be considerate.”
David nodded along as if half-hearing. He’d thought of a question after all. He raised his hand suddenly, as if still in school.
Grandma seemed a little annoyed by this form of interjection. She sighed. “Yes?”
“Well, it’s just… what’s that freaky-looking door over by the piano?” His eyes glittered.
Grandma’s expression darkened again, this time with more than a hint of desperation. “Don’t you dare go wandering around there young man. Can’t you read the sign? ‘HERE LIES THE SINNER’ It’s a warning. We considered destroying that room a long time ago, but rather than go through the trouble we figured it was just as well that anyone idiot enough to brave its dangers was more than welcome to and we left it open.”
David hid his interest. “Oh don’t worry! I just wanted to play the piano is all. Can I?”
Grandma sighed again and made him promise not to go wandering any further than the piano before taking her leave of him. She’d later regret this as she worked patiently to the sounds of cacophony crashing violently throughout the house of worship. After an hour or so of this torture, she politely asked David to read his book a while instead, and David did as he was told. He slipped off his sneakers, kicked back in the frontmost-pew and took up his thin novel of choice.
The atmosphere at this moment was tangible, delicious. Rainbow shafts of light cascaded all around, a ghostly echo of a choir long past bounced around delicately between the stone walls, and the size of the temple made the emptiness around him feel absolutely crushing. Only a faint echo of the ignorant chirping of the birds outside could be glimpsed. He felt as if he was inhabiting a historic palace of some kind, and so felt that only something appropriately antiquarian and of high literary merit would thus suit it. The novel in question was R. L. Stine’s spellbinding Don’t Go Into The Basement!
While an adult would dismiss the value of such stories, David knew, as only children could, that the power of such tales lay not in their individual, admittedly unlikely narratives, but in the effect of them all as a whole. The feeling that you were reading some secret potted history of the world, revealing an ugly truth everyone would rather hide or run away from than face. One would come from a Goosebumps binge with the unmistakable feeling that he was not so secure in his previously idyllic views of the world, and would soon find themselves haunted by sleepless nights and a nervous composition. Like many young children, David loved such stories.
As he reached the climax of this particular tale, though, on this particular day, he wished heartily that he had brought something perhaps a smidgeon less… unsettling. The air seemed to reek of mystery, and he was no longer sure that he was alone in the massive structure. Sure, his Grandma had slipped off to one of the side-structures, probably the Playroom to vacuum or something, but he was fairly sure she had not been behind the variety of shufflings and choked cries coming from behind the dark double doors just as the silence around him seemed the most thick and oppressive.
At first, he simply shivered and tried to continue reading. After a moment, he resolved instead to join his Grandma in the Playroom and forget about Goosebumps altogether but felt somewhat rooted to the spot and failed to follow through. Finally, once enough time had passed that David wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t been imagining things, he began to ruminate on the secret room, and what could possibly be contained within it. He looked up and eyed the plaque once more: ‘HERE LIES THE SINNER.’ What kind of a warning was that anyway? All it really served to do was set David’s mind alight with questions.
With his Grandma loudly vacuuming away the remnants of potato chips and cheese puffs far away, David steeled himself and decided to investigate. After all, if they hadn’t bothered to board the door up, whatever it contained could hardly be very dangerous at all. “Especially in this day and age!” Grandma would always say. He left his book on the pew, and began putting on and lacing up his shoes. Before he could stand, another watery cry escaped from behind the dark, frightening double doors and David, rather than flee, immediately made up his mind to lay eyes on its source. In another moment, he was standing in front of the looming wooden slabs, and a moment further his tiny hand was upon the worn, brass doorknob. He twisted and pushed with all of his youthful energy and the door opened effortlessly.
Stretching before the boy was a rapidly-decaying staircase set in stone and trimmed here and there with mossy, damp wood. A metal sconce was bolted near the middle of the distance, but was inexplicably still lit. An honest-to-god torch! David now felt more curious than ever. He descended the stairs rapidly, carefully knocking away cobwebs that hung between every wall. Indeed, spiders had nearly taken the place over. But David wasn’t afraid of spiders. Wimps were afraid of spiders, and if he was a wimp he would never have dared come down here in the first place, right? And so he soon found himself at another door, this one significantly older and in much worse condition than the one previous. At first he believed that the door was locked after all, but after applying a rougher touch, the door swung open with an inhuman shriek of its hinges and David found himself peering into an awful, rank darkness.
David had dealt with darkness before, but nothing like this. Again, he reminded himself: only wimps are scared of the dark! David had never let something so silly frighten him before, but greeting this abyss in the present took every bit of control he was in possession of. He swallowed and took a step through the doorway.
Utter, utter darkness! David raised his hand to his face: several creases caught the faint torchlight from behind him, but the whole of his hand vanished into the dark as if gone altogether from existence. No, David steeled himself. No, I’m not a wimp. As his eyes slightly adjusted to the darkness he noticed that ahead of him, not far from where he stood, appeared what seemed a broom closet of some sort. What make it stick out in the entombing darkness, however, was that the door was slightly ajar, and betraying the faintest ray of light from behind its frame.
Instinctively, David moved towards it, leaving the door behind him wide open. Another step and he was in the middle of it: total black. The further he moved from the staircase, the more a rubber band seemed to yank him back towards it. He felt so vulnerable in the abyss, surrounded at every open side. His curiosity was almost gone when, suddenly, something the size of a dog raced between David’s legs, sobbing. Without thinking, he lost his composure and bolted - not back towards the staircase after all, but towards the ghostly glimmer of light ahead of him in the hostile room.
Once at the border, he flung the door open like a madman and scrambled inside, throwing the door shut quickly behind him. The space in which he found himself did indeed appear to have once been someone’s idea of a closet. Beakers, glass of every shape and size, heavy metal scales, drip-bags and tanks, utensils and instruments of indeterminate purpose decorated the shelves that jutted out from every wall in perfect unison. David hardly noticed. He was listening. Outside, nothing was stirring, or so it seemed. David wanted to laugh, and tell himself that he was being foolish, but some deep part of him was quite afraid to make any sound at all and shatter the oppressive silence that weighed on him.
Before quite making up his mind as to what he should do next, David’s eyes caught a glimpse of a singular leather tome, a diary judging from the blank cover and spine, lying discarded in a corner of the room. David moved towards it as if hypnotized before taking a seat of the weathered wood of the floor and picking up the aged volume. Yes, a diary. The entries were dated, though the last entry seemed written in a totally different handwriting and with a red pen rather than a black one. Deciding he’d rather like to be stuck here a moment longer without having to brace the darkness just yet, David flipped to the first entry and began to read.
“December 9th
“The experiment seems to have, as expected, had no effect. The subject died within mere hours of its administration. I have thrown that Satanic volume into the incinerator along with the rest. Why is it that these fools insist of playing around with ideas and powers they have no business with, let alone the intellect capable of understanding! Mr. Norant was, obviously, quite aggrieved, but I believe I reassured him adequately enough, given the circumstances. He shares my same interests and insatiable curiosity, but his key has noticeably changed on the subject since his wife’s contribution to the effort. I rather think he’ll abandon the fold. It has certainly tortured me to think that I may committing even graver sins than these imposters by checking their work, but I must believe I’m doing it for the good of God’s kingdom. These people have lives to live, children to raise, careers to look after. It is the job of a man of God like me to lead them, and in these modern ages that means separating the truth from evil fictions. I must remember that!
“January 26th
“Another book of black magic brought before me. This one supposably from ‘ancient Mayan archives’ and unattributed to any author, but I pointed out to the sweet lady who brought it to my attention that it’s rather an exact copy of some European drivel published and authored only last year by a university student! I had already debunked each and every one of its lies in great detail. We had a laugh about it and she went away feeling quite a sight better about the whole ordeal, having been unable to keep herself from sneaking a peek at its sinister contents before bringing it to my attention. This is the reason I do what I do. That wash of relief I hope to be my defining contribution to God’s children. These untruths and nightmarish spells and scientific deceptions so common in this day must be put to rest.
“February 13th
“Mr. Ignes dropped by to discuss the Norant case. I gave my account, whereupon we had drinks and discussed at length a new tome making the rounds of public opinion. It claimed to offer power of to kill a man simply by marking him with a short incantation. The two of us put our heads together contriving ways in which we might test its thesis. Finally, I decided to have Ignes try the incantation out on none other than myself, just in case it proved to be real after all. I took down the particulars down in my other journal, but needless to say I’m quite sure the whole thing is just as much a hoax as it appears to be. After a week is up, I imagine it will burn in the incinerator just like all the others. My list grows larger. Soon, god-fearing people will be fluent enough in the so-called ‘dark arts’ to be able to recognize them for the global hoax they are.
“February 20th
“Still breathing. Another lie burned from existence.
“February 29th
“A copy of Practical Magicks left on my desk. Again. Part of me wonders if trying to think for my flock is bound to fail after all. How many times must I remind them of my previous debunking of this exact volume?
“March 7th
“Something horrible reached my ears today while I was out procuring the day’s newspaper. I overheard a group of apish men discussing something they had read in that day’s paper. A new scientific discovery. As a dabbler in science myself, I couldn’t help but listen. It seems that someone had claimed to have found true resurrective power contained within, of all places, an unassuming species of insect that until now had escaped our collective searching human digits, undiscovered.
“It wasn’t the claims of the existence of the insect itself that caused me to nearly faint. No, as I’d learn from the paper upon purchasing it myself, the article claimed, blasphemously, that the insect in question, a grotesque sort of grubby worm, could have actually been responsible for the ‘hoax’ of Christ’s resurrection. I could hardly contain my shock.
“Our lord! Our savior! Reduced to Satanic rumor, no different than the silly literature I commit to the incinerator! I vowed at once to investigate and have sent letters to a few friends of mine in the Middle East who might be able to procure for me one of these so-called ‘resurrection worms.’
“The issue is, as with the Norant case, a difficult one. I shall be shortly in need of a willing participant who necessarily needs to be one on the verge of death in order to properly test the evil thesis currently pricking at my mind. I must not be impatient, no matter how much the rumor stings. A matter such as this must be handled delicately. I’ll update further in the coming weeks.
“April 3rd
“Little miss Mary Dewitt has finally returned to our flock after nearly a year abroad for university! I was immediately ecstatic upon noticing her seated in the pews, but felt my exuberance was not matched by hers when I greeted her warmly after service. She looked ravaged. Her eyes no longer glittered as they once had, and her skin wasn’t soft and babyish as before. Her figure in general seemed to have hardened, as if put through a thresher and healing every day since. Her expression was one of such disturbance that I immediately interrupted my greeting to ask her what the matter was, but I got no answer before she unceremoniously fled from my presence. I must inquire further upon our next meeting. The poor child seemed quite in distress.
“April 11th
“Today, I was visited by Mrs. Dewitt and had her condition explained to me. During her year abroad, she had engaged in much sinful debauchery, things she dared not go into concrete details about. She had drank in excess, she had purchased in excess, she had flirted with sailors and mysterious dark men to such excess that her body had seemed to age a hundred years in the space of just one. She cried as she unburdened herself, and I felt myself about to be sick. Such a sweet girl, too! I could hardly believe my ears.
“How unprepared was I, then, for the true bombshell: she had fled back home upon convincing herself that she was being possessed by some kind of demonic entity. She believed it might have been responsible for her previous uncharacteristically evil actions, but that once she’d become aware of her sin, the demon seemed to take a form all its own, sitting in the pit of her stomach and tormenting her day and night with its dark suggestions. She could almost feel it growing. In the three months since she’d been home, the agony had continued to grow to extraordinary heights.
“I comforted her and promised I’d do what I could in the future. I must admit, I’m incredibly divided on the subject. Both the tainted girl and exorcisms in general. I wonder if she hasn’t simply created the demon to take guilt away from herself. Still, such things demand a thorough investigation, and I shall not fail my flock.
“PS: my ‘resurrection worm’ arrived via post today. I can just glimpse it through the bag, but I’m not eager to open it until I find a suitable subject for it.
“April 27th
“Ms. Dewitt stopped by again today, considerably thinner and paler than before. She claimed to have been unable to sleep for weeks, saying that the demon within her kept her up at all night, every night, with incessant, awful whisperings, reminding her of the sins she committed while abroad. At one point while recounting her experiences, she began to become quite hysterical, so that I administered a light sedative and afterwards examined her sleeping body. I could find no visual trace of abnormality at all. Upon coming to, Ms. Dewitt immediately required a receptacle to be sick into. After consoling her and questioning her at length, she seemed to grow exceedingly exhausted and I allowed to her to sleep it off in my office. The next morning when I returned, she had gone. I am at a loss of what to do.
“May 15th
“Is my entire premise flawed? When my flock… when I become fearful of some black untruth being circulated by the presses, am I not in grievous error of my lord? Am I not going too far even entertaining them long enough to prove them false? Doesn’t Christ ask for faith? Only for faith? Am I committing sin, obsessing over bringing the truth to light like this? I’m not so sure anymore. So far, nothing has occurred which has caused the slightest doubt in my mind that things are as I believe them to be, but what if the day comes where I am tested? Am I not inviting such a test, engaging in these doubtful pursuits?
“Lord give me strength and watch over me in my hour of need.
“June 1st
“It has been suggested that I pay a visit to a certain Mr. Thique, a seer of ghosts and investigator of paranormal phenomena - a medium, I believe the common folk call them. I rejected it. I have no interest in their silly games. I’ve seen their type before. If any of my flock were to be caught up in their absurd antics, they’d hardly have anyone to blame but themselves. These actors are as easy to decipher and toss away as a silly word puzzle.
“June 24th
“I’m worried about Ms. Dewitt, she hasn’t been present at service for several weeks. I admit that after witnessing her previous state of mind, I’m more than a little unsettled by the idea of her dealing with her situation alone, no matter how much to blame she herself was. I’ve decided that if she doesn’t drop by within the next week, I’ll pay her a visit myself, armed with whatever I think I might need to rid her of her ‘entity’
“PS: I’ve spoken with Mrs. Prower about the possibility of her being interested in becoming a willing participant in an upcoming trial. She’s deathly sick - consumption, sadly. I explained that I’ve heard tell of a certain method of resurrection that the flock was greatly in need of debunking. I explained how we’d go about such a experiment, and emphasized the decency and delicacy I would utilize during the process. After almost certain failure of the experiment, her proper burial would be seen to. She is a widow, never remarried, and she gave her immediate consent. I’ll be watching her condition as it progresses. The worm is still alive in its prison, but for how much longer I can’t be sure.
“July 10th
“Awful. Truly awful. Poor Ms. Dewitt! I have failed her. I didn’t believe her convictions and I let her die! I kept her locked her in my makeshift laboratory instead of taking her to a hospital where she should have gone from the very beginning. Indeed, when she confided that she had not once checked with a physician I should have ejected her from the premises right then and there! No matter one’s religious convictions: one’s health is one’s health! I try to ride in the middle; I try to be both a man of science and a man of faith, and yet I’ve let my zealotry kill one of my flock! Oh Lord! What have I done?
“It was never made necessary that I visit with Ms. Dewitt. She showed up herself this morning in a horrific state. She was thin as a ghost, though her belly protruded a bit towards the navel. She looked absolutely hideous. She could scarcely stand, and she was sick many times over the course of her visit. She grasped at me and spoke in tongues. She begged me to cut the evil from her. She pleaded with me to make it stop.
“I immediately strapped her to the examination table. Once restrained, she began to froth at the mouth and convulse. I said words, probably meaningless, over her and she ceased moving any longer. I stopped and watched in utter disbelief before taking a seat nearby and recording the events so far in my minutes journal. An hour later, I finally checked her pulse. Stone dead.
“I must correct my mistake! I must do some-
“THE WORM.
“July 11th
“After composing myself last night, I administered the worm to the patient.
“Having no idea where to apply it, I simply dropped it on the patient’s chest and left it. I’ve informed no one yet of the girl’s death. For once, though the idea is blasphemous, I find myself hoping that the experiment works.
“It’s been twelve hours and nothing has happened yet. Will update as experiment progresses.
“July 12th
“I’m scarcely able to sleep. Everything is dark. Everything is evil. Satanic. The decaying woman in my lab weighs heavily on my mind. My guilt is perhaps an overreaction on my part, but have I committed a serious error in, again, foregoing the authorities and trying to handle it in secret? What will my flock think when the story is revealed. Even if the young woman were to be resurrected, what would I tell them of what I had proven? I shudder to think.
“July 13th
“In my blind anger, I made an unforgivable error. Impatient, pacing the pews again, I decided to retrieve the newspaper that had originally informed me of the resurrection worms. Rereading the short entry, I became acutely aware that I had not adequately read the piece previously. Rather than bringing something back from life explicitly, it can only be certain that it gives the appearance of life. Animals who had had the worms administered seem to shamble about like mere beasts, as if puppets taking cues from a tiny worm situated at the center of their brain…
“What have I done? What have I unleashed? No longer do I wish for the success of the experiment. I’ll wait another fortnight and then turn myself in for keeping the death of the young girl a secret, and worst of all, experimenting on her corpse without any kind of consent. First, I must deal with whatever I have brought about, and deal with it without endangering anyone else.
“I went to check on the body, and it was just as I had left it. Only, I could swear a certain… wet sounds, like something being chewed. Smacking. Digging. The sound is so quiet as to be easily dismissed as imagination, but I’m more than a little unsettled by it. Perhaps something in the back of her throat, bubbling up after death? I have no idea myself but will continue to observe.
“July 16th
“No change. No change at all. Only louder. The noise is getting louder. What on God’s earth is making that awful sound?
“(This entry is undated, written in a far shakier hand than previous entries, and in red ink.)
“Please. Please Jesus Christ my lord and savior if you’re there please help me. I have sinned. I have unleashed sin upon the world. Please forgive me. Please help me Please please please
“I waited forever. I waited and waited and waited, listening to that grotesque drilling. I was this close to leaving the lab behind forever, right then and there, and turning myself in as I’d promised to do, when I witnessed the most awful thing I could have ever imagined.
“As the noise grew suddenly in volume, I became aware of movement in the deceased’s body. She began to twitch, convulse, and the flesh on her belly began to stretch unnaturally as if being pushed from the inside. Just before the pieces of the puzzles that had been pricking at my brain for months were able to fit themselves into place: it opened. Her belly opened.
“A tiny, grotesque, fetal hand burst from underneath the skin, drenched in gore. I now recognized the smacking. The creature had ate its way out! What a demon Mary Dewitt had been plagued with! And now, thanks to my efforts, the demon had survived its host’s death. Indeed, how was a silly little resurrection worm supposed to tell the difference?
“I’m afraid. I’m deeply afraid. I’ve locked myself in here, but I’m acutely aware that nothing approaching food or water is anywhere within reach. I was quick enough to escape the demon once, but I don’t imagine I’ll be that lucky twice. I can hear it pacing about the door… gurgling at me. Waiting for me to have to open the door! I won’t do it! I won’t do it!
“Jesus Christ my lord and savior if you’re there please help me.”
David let the manuscript fall from his hands. Fear gripped his heart and tears began to well in his eyes as he realized his situation. “Grandma?” he called in vain. “Grandma! Help me! I’m trapped!”
Outside the door, Ms. Dewitt’s baby gargled, excited by the noise and wanting very much to become familiar with its source. It tossed itself against the door and David let loose a bloodcurdling scream.
One floor above him, Grandma wouldn’t be finished cleaning for another twelve hours, at least. She put the broom down for a minute, stretching and sighing as she did so, and looked up at the foreboding door ahead as she sat for a short break. She didn’t find it odd that David had walked off without his book. She was too tired indeed, to think about much of anything presently. Her eyes scan the plaque above the door: ‘HERE LIES THE SINNER.’
Outside, the birds and the bees and the trees and the earth as a whole smile underneath a gorgeous afternoon sun, in blissful ignorance.
submitted by jss239 to DarkTales [link] [comments]


2019.03.11 01:23 bart1209 Am I INFP?

Hey! If you could help me find out if i'm INFP I'd appreciatie it :). I don’t trust the online tests that much but if you could help me; Thanks!
- I seek a meaningful and purposeful life
- I like fantasybooks where everyone has a unique super prower-o r anime- however I love detective books of Agatha Christie as well.
- I like to consume all kinds of knowledge- I have a very good memory, I love to quiz and I am pretty good at it. I can browse Wikipedia for hours about everything, literally everything. I love to read about events, it’s history, but I also find myself almost always browsing all kinds of persons and reading about their personal life
- I love sports- especially competitive (so jogging not that much). However if I’d win in an important football match, I wouldn’t really celebrate that much but I’d rather console the opponent first.
- I do have a temper, I find myself having regular drifts of rage
- I really dislike materialistic/shallow people but that’s probably something everyone says.
- Don’t like parties, I can’t relax there/find it pretty nihilistic. I like to actively do something instead. There’s no purpose of the evening, it’s just always the same imo.
- Favourite music genres: Pop punk/emo- a couple of other songs/artists I love: Your song(Elton john), Don’t stop me now (Queen), Fascination(Alphabeat), James Blunt, I like trance as well, I find reggae pretty nice as well sometimes. Really dislike jazz, and metal is a bit too negative-energy for me.
- I dislike flattery if it’s not honest and spot it pretty easily. I value sincerity, honesty, loyalty and honor the most.
- I would consider myself a very loyal friend- and I value loyalty very much in a friendship
- I find it difficult to lie and I feel bad/guilty when I do/usually give in.
- Everyone should feel what’s best for themselves/what’s the truth for themselves
- I like to search for an objective truth a lot of the time. If I’d have to choose between the red and blue pill from the matrix, I’d take the blue pill. However, if I’d have to make the choice everyday I’d start taking the red pill at some point because of my hunger for knowledge.
- I can be real obsessive and perfectionistic( have OCD as well), when I have obsessions they tend to last some time when my whole day is clouded with them, until they don’t interest me anymore (which doesn’t take that long) and I forget about them.
- I certainly am not a good talker for a group , and I have never been/probably will never be a popular person.
- I think constantly/am constantly in my head, and often distraught/ I find it difficult concentrating.
- In elementary school I soon knew all the names of everyone in all classes. I guess I was/am very interested in people
- When in an argument I often exaggerate, however I tend to use data/facts to find out best how all people can feel good.
- When someone is new in the group, I tend to go talk to them to make them feel welcome.
- I think I need a bit of activeness? Going to musea or studying the architecture of a building, I lose my interest pretty quick.
- I don’t really live in the moment.
- I think and overanalyse till I go crazy. I just think about all kinds of different stuff 24/7 (I can’t sleep because my thoughts keep rolling).
- I really don’t value money that much. If I’d have a salary of 50K a month, I’d donate 46K of it to charity. I only want happiness in life and I think money and power corrupt your personality. I’d feel guilty having extra money to spend on luxury when other people are poocan be helped
- I tend to procrastinate a lot, till the last minute always, and my method of studying is usually energetic bursts and I can’t really work on something consistently.
- I don’t wanna control people, but I do really wanna be independent
- I hate routine work, I’ve done accountancy at a point and it sucked for me.
- Having my own identity/authenticity is very important to me, I wanna be different from other people; however I wouldn’t describe myself as a hippy or smth. I dislike suits because they aren’t original. I like to have a plain white/red/green/orange t-shirt, but I also wouldn’t ever wear something too flashy or something just to draw attention.
- I can feel compassionate and feel other’s emotions. But I often mirror them on myself and then I feel them stronger.
- I am pretty easily irritated.
- I often give a bit of money to homeless people.
- I don’t really like complex/neat hairstyles. I like my hair to fall naturally and be a bit wild maybe, but nothing too crazy, I’d never colour my hair or well do anything weird with my hair.
- I value kindness as the ultimate quality.
- I am the messiest/most disorganized/chaotic person I know.
- I never played shooter games for ethical reasons.
- I consider myself very ethical/having strong morals.
- I am often stressed
- I’m super super clumsy and I’m known for it.
- I like learning languages/writing. I can’t really express myself verbally that well, but I like to think I’m pretty good on paper.
- I have a very good memory for numbers and names, and details. I can recall events pretty good in detail years late my impression of it at least.
- I would consider myself having a wide variety of interests.
- I tend to let other people opinions influence me- I care about what people think of me.
- I play possible scenarios of events again and again in my head.
- I’m pretty neurotic and very insecure about everything, and I have a lot of trouble with anxiey.
- I really wouldn’t describe myself as sexy or anything close to that. If it’d be something positive in terms of attractiveness it’s be cute. I wouldn’t have enough confidence with a secy girl I think.
- I think of the future pretty often
- I like both fictional and non-fictional literature
- I like to read about psychology and selfimprovement.
- Technological/building really doesn’t interest me. Never played with lego or playmobil.
- I really dislike the macho culture amongst men. Growing up, I often felt like there was no place amongst men to talk about feelings.
- I’ve never had a crush or been in love
- I love reading gossip papers lol.
- I read the journal since I’m 6 and I love actuality.
- I like watching all kinds of sports
- I like strategizing
- I tend to be jealous a lot.
- I like history and human sciences; languages, biology, chemistry as well, mathematics is a bit too rigid and structured for me.
- I have considered being religious but accepting someone else’s values doesn’t really fit me. I criticize everything and try to find my own values/ view of the world
- I like to think I’m pretty good at reading people and seeing their true intentions. I overanalyse people and I’m right about their personality most of the time.
- I won’t ever demonize/idolize anyone. Demonize: Everyone who acts bad; it’s not their own fault imo. Noone has chosen for their personality/state of mind. For example Michael Jackson is a victim of his brain I think, I’d rather see him as unlucky than inherently bad. I don’t think anyone is inherently bad.Idolize- I think all people are pretty equal and just different. I don’t think success is always good for the mind/personality. I Don’t think celebs should be admired, I think the ultimate goal of anyone on earth should be to the best person they can be and that’s defined by qualities/deeds you can’t buy with money. For me personally my ultimate goal is being kind.
- I would describe myself as quite idealistic, but also realistic. I have my own ideal of the world but am also realistic that certain things are impossible and that you should look at facts and statistics as well.For example: I won’t study anything in college that I know is pretty jobless/ I know that you need a job even if it really interests me, and a bit of money to have a decent living and to take care of possible future children.
- I don’t like dark humour for ethical reasons, however I think that pretty often it is pretty genius to come up with the joke.
- I think I would despise 9 to 5 jobs.
- I open up easily in terms of emotions once I get to know someone a bit. Not in a group tho, needs to be one on one usually.
- I feel like I’m a pretty warm person in one on one convo’s and I connect pretty easily one on one.
- I’m very energetic and usually pretty motivated
- My friends say that I can inspire them pretty good.
- I’m pretty good at mathematics and logical sciences but I don’t really like them/ don’t feel fascinated by them for sure.
- In debates I often think facts give a good representation and statistics as well, my mom uses emotions most of the time f.e. when a child in Syria dies it’s Assad’s fault. While that makes me sad, you shouldn’t look at the details for this situation, but also logical because the problem is more complex than that (in my opinion tho!). However, I think the solution should have both logical and feeling components in an argument most of the time
- I always root for the underdog- don’t know if this means anything.
- I am and have always been quite rebellious, and I always questioned my parents autorithy on matters.
- I have chosen with my head (and under pressure pressure of parents) in the past and it didn’t turn out well.
- When an event is coming up- I think about it all day long days before it happens and usually stress about it.
- I try to always figure out my own opinion on matters.
- I dislike people who choose for power and money. They may objectively gain, but as a person they’re poor-something money can’t buy imo.
- I wanna be original above all. I often play the devil’s lawyer even if I agree with the other person’s opinion. I just wanna have the different opinion if it makes sense
- I am real sensitive to appreciation.
- I think in methaphors pretty often/analogies, don't know if it says anything
I realize most sentences start with I and that it’s pretty egocentrically written, but I had to write it in a hurry! I hope this doesn’t look too arrogant of a text!I thank you if you read all the way through, and if you could give me your opinion on if I'm INFP I’d appreciate it a lot! J
submitted by bart1209 to infp [link] [comments]


2019.03.11 01:12 bart1209 Help me find out my mbti type :)

Hey! If you could help me find out which mbti type I am/could be you’d help me a lot. I don’t trust the online tests that much, and in my mind I often get different results. Thanks!
- I seek a meaningful and purposeful life
- I like fantasybooks where everyone has a unique super prower-o r anime- however I love detective books of Agatha Christie as well.
- I like to consume all kinds of knowledge- I have a very good memory, I love to quiz and I am pretty good at it. I can browse Wikipedia for hours about everything, literally everything. I love to read about events, it’s history, but I also find myself almost always browsing all kinds of persons and reading about their personal life
- I love sports- especially competitive (so jogging not that much). However if I’d win in an important football match, I wouldn’t really celebrate that much but I’d rather console the opponent first.
- I do have a temper, I find myself having regular drifts of rage
- I really dislike materialistic/shallow people but that’s probably something everyone says.
- Don’t like parties, I can’t relax there/find it pretty nihilistic. I like to actively do something instead. There’s no purpose of the evening, it’s just always the same imo.
- Favourite music genres: Pop punk/emo- a couple of other songs/artists I love: Your song(Elton john), Don’t stop me now (Queen), Fascination(Alphabeat), James Blunt, I like trance as well, I find reggae pretty nice as well sometimes. Really dislike jazz, and metal is a bit too negative-energy for me.
- I dislike flattery if it’s not honest and spot it pretty easily. I value sincerity, honesty, loyalty and honor the most.
- I would consider myself a very loyal friend- and I value loyalty very much in a friendship
- I find it difficult to lie and I feel bad/guilty when I do/usually give in.
- Everyone should feel what’s best for themselves/what’s the truth for themselves
- I like to search for an objective truth a lot of the time. If I’d have to choose between the red and blue pill from the matrix, I’d take the blue pill. However, if I’d have to make the choice everyday I’d start taking the red pill at some point because of my hunger for knowledge.
- I can be real obsessive and perfectionistic( have OCD as well), when I have obsessions they tend to last some time when my whole day is clouded with them, until they don’t interest me anymore (which doesn’t take that long) and I forget about them.
- I certainly am not a good talker for a group , and I have never been/probably will never be a popular person.
- I think constantly/am constantly in my head, and often distraught/ I find it difficult concentrating.
- In elementary school I soon knew all the names of everyone in all classes. I guess I was/am very interested in people
- When in an argument I often exaggerate, however I tend to use data/facts to find out best how all people can feel good.
- When someone is new in the group, I tend to go talk to them to make them feel welcome.
- I think I need a bit of activeness? Going to musea or studying the architecture of a building, I lose my interest pretty quick.
- I don’t really live in the moment.
- I think and overanalyse till I go crazy. I just think about all kinds of different stuff 24/7 (I can’t sleep because my thoughts keep rolling).
- I really don’t value money that much. If I’d have a salary of 50K a month, I’d donate 46K of it to charity. I only want happiness in life and I think money and power corrupt your personality. I’d feel guilty having extra money to spend on luxury when other people are poocan be helped
- I tend to procrastinate a lot, till the last minute always, and my method of studying is usually energetic bursts and I can’t really work on something consistently.
- I don’t wanna control people, but I do really wanna be independent
- I hate routine work, I’ve done accountancy at a point and it sucked for me.
- Having my own identity/authenticity is very important to me, I wanna be different from other people; however I wouldn’t describe myself as a hippy or smth. I dislike suits because they aren’t original. I like to have a plain white/red/green/orange t-shirt, but I also wouldn’t ever wear something too flashy or something just to draw attention.
- I can feel compassionate and feel other’s emotions. But I often mirror them on myself and then I feel them stronger.
- I am pretty easily irritated.
- I often give a bit of money to homeless people.
- I don’t really like complex/neat hairstyles. I like my hair to fall naturally and be a bit wild maybe, but nothing too crazy, I’d never colour my hair or well do anything weird with my hair.
- I value kindness as the ultimate quality.
- I am the messiest/most disorganized/chaotic person I know.
- I never played shooter games for ethical reasons.
- I consider myself very ethical/having strong morals.
- I am often stressed
- I’m super super clumsy and I’m known for it.
- I like learning languages/writing. I can’t really express myself verbally that well, but I like to think I’m pretty good on paper.
- I have a very good memory for numbers and names, and details. I can recall events pretty good in detail years late my impression of it at least.
- I would consider myself having a wide variety of interests.
- I tend to let other people opinions influence me- I care about what people think of me.
- I play possible scenarios of events again and again in my head.
- I’m pretty neurotic and very insecure about everything, and I have a lot of trouble with anxiey.
- I really wouldn’t describe myself as sexy or anything close to that. If it’d be something positive in terms of attractiveness it’s be cute. I wouldn’t have enough confidence with a secy girl I think.
- I think of the future pretty often
- I like both fictional and non-fictional literature
- I like to read about psychology and selfimprovement.
- Technological/building really doesn’t interest me. Never played with lego or playmobil.
- I really dislike the macho culture amongst men. Growing up, I often felt like there was no place amongst men to talk about feelings.
- I’ve never had a crush or been in love
- I love reading gossip papers lol.
- I read the journal since I’m 6 and I love actuality.
- I like watching all kinds of sports
- I like strategizing
- I tend to be jealous a lot.
- I like history and human sciences; languages, biology, chemistry as well, mathematics is a bit too rigid and structured for me.
- I have considered being religious but accepting someone else’s values doesn’t really fit me. I criticize everything and try to find my own values/ view of the world
- I like to think I’m pretty good at reading people and seeing their true intentions. I overanalyse people and I’m right about their personality most of the time.
- I won’t ever demonize/idolize anyone. Demonize: Everyone who acts bad; it’s not their own fault imo. Noone has chosen for their personality/state of mind. For example Michael Jackson is a victim of his brain I think, I’d rather see him as unlucky than inherently bad. I don’t think anyone is inherently bad. Idolize- I think all people are pretty equal and just different. I don’t think success is always good for the mind/personality. I Don’t think celebs should be admired, I think the ultimate goal of anyone on earth should be to the best person they can be and that’s defined by qualities/deeds you can’t buy with money. For me personally my ultimate goal is being kind.
- I would describe myself as quite idealistic, but also realistic. I have my own ideal of the world but am also realistic that certain things are impossible and that you should look at facts and statistics as well. For example: I won’t study anything in college that I know is pretty jobless/ I know that you need a job even if it really interests me, and a bit of money to have a decent living and to take care of possible future children.
- I don’t like dark humour for ethical reasons, however I think that pretty often it is pretty genius to come up with the joke.
- I think I would despise 9 to 5 jobs.
- I open up easily in terms of emotions once I get to know someone a bit. Not in a group tho, needs to be one on one usually.
- I feel like I’m a pretty warm person in one on one convo’s and I connect pretty easily one on one.
- I’m very energetic and usually pretty motivated
- My friends say that I can inspire them pretty good.
- I’m pretty good at mathematics and logical sciences but I don’t really like them/ don’t feel fascinated by them for sure.
- In debates I often think facts give a good representation and statistics as well, my mom uses emotions most of the time f.e. when a child in Syria dies it’s Assad’s fault. While that makes me sad, you shouldn’t look at the details for this situation, but also logical because the problem is more complex than that (in my opinion tho!). However, I think the solution should have both logical and feeling components in an argument most of the time
- I always root for the underdog- don’t know if this means anything.
- I am and have always been quite rebellious, and I always questioned my parents autorithy on matters.
- I have chosen with my head (and under pressure pressure of parents) in the past and it didn’t turn out well.
- When an event is coming up- I think about it all day long days before it happens and usually stress about it.
- I try to always figure out my own opinion on matters.
- I dislike people who choose for power and money. They may objectively gain, but as a person they’re poor-something money can’t buy imo.
- I wanna be original above all. I often play the devil’s lawyer even if I agree with the other person’s opinion. I just wanna have the different opinion if it makes sense
- I am real sensitive to appreciation.
I realize most sentences start with I and that it’s pretty egocentrically written, but I had to write it in a hurry! I hope this doesn’t look too arrogant of a text! I thank you if you read all the way through, and if you could give me your opinion on which mbti type I am I’d appreciate it a lot! J
submitted by bart1209 to MbtiTypeMe [link] [comments]