2021.10.21 12:11 easypie1 Collection complete
People set different goals for themselves per season. For some its running rifts at 150, or it could be completing dungeon sets.
For me it was collecting a bank tab of puzzle rings!
P.s any guesses on how long it'll take to run all of them?
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2021.10.21 12:11 Fulmizant Can I blame LeBron just a tiny bit?
He’s the one that gave the green light to bring Westbrook in and he KNOWS that Russ needs the ball so why is LeBron playing the exact same way? He’s a good spot up shooter, he should spot up more and conserve his body. That was the whole point of this move; Russ and AD should be shining while he’s coasting for the playoffs. If LeBron wants to handle the ball as much as he did game 1, he should’ve let Rob get Buddy Hield.
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2021.10.21 12:11 tinyywarrior Mmm… splintery wood flavour
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2021.10.21 12:11 jamlennon i dont wanna talk to people anymore it's exhausting <3
2021.10.21 12:11 DADDA_08 Nice
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2021.10.21 12:11 ThereGoesChickenJane It's an alternative universe and you have to pick a Duggar to marry. Which ones do you choose and why? (Only Duggars of legal age are eligible.) Alternatively, you have to marry a Duggar spouse...who do you choose and why?
If I had to marry a Duggar, I think I would pick Josiah. I feel like he has (had) the most interesting personality of all of them.
If I had to marry a Duggar spouse, I think I'd pick Ben. Is he checked out and dumb as a box of rocks? Yes. But he seems the least fundie-ish to me, out of all the spouses.
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2021.10.21 12:11 dangblaze Last night mail call. First edition AE, also number #24 zamac 👍
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2021.10.21 12:11 Famosasmexico Aleida Núñez
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2021.10.21 12:11 Izucc-2021 Agul do be showin off
2021.10.21 12:11 TobiHovey Tech Platform Behind Sotheby’s NFT Metaverse Raises $20 Million
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2021.10.21 12:11 zyrkseas97 Sometimes i forget how amazing this was when Halo: Reach came out. I can’t think of another game to make something so cool and high-effort for a bonus item basically just to reward fans. (Pic not mine but related)
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2021.10.21 12:11 rov124 Kobato Miku Birthday Tweet (in English)
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2021.10.21 12:11 mska_22 Unsolicited Chinchilla Advice
If someone is posting a pic of their chinchilla and they are not asking for advice,I think it is unnecessary to start nitpicking their cage/play setup and make them answer a million questions so YOU know that chinchilla is safe. Just because YOU cannot see the entire setup, doesn’t mean they are harming the chinchillas.
If it really concerns you, consider private messaging this person.
I have seen this all over many posts and I think it’s becoming a bit overbearing.
Sorry if this kind of post isn’t allowed.
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2021.10.21 12:11 sabrinoo Finished A New Home. Is this... winning?
So I finally finished A New Home for the first time, and my city survived the great storm!
I mean, of course, I also became a religious dictator and there were only 28 people left in the city at the end....
I won. I won! Did I win?
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2021.10.21 12:11 russy1982 Anybody used GIZTOP to import a tablet to england?
ive given up on the mi store getting stock in, this site seems very well priced but dont know alot about it, heard wandamobile is good but not sure bout this one, cheers
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2021.10.21 12:11 ZalaMu Follow up pics...so are these just adjustable for height or also softness? Right now they are just way too hard on my T120. Also want to prep the bike for 2 up riding so it should be stable and comfortable for adding 50-70kg passenger...
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2021.10.21 12:11 APECx_AEC !!MILLION MM AVATARS & NFTs by CryptoMillions - NEW VAMPIRE EDITION!!
| !!MILLION MM AVATARS & NFTs by CryptoMillions - NEW VAMPIRE EDITION!!|
+ On Polygon = No Gas Fees + Limited Quantity of 25 + Sale Ends 10/31st! + 1 of 1 available for sale + rare features; forked tongues, bats, & more!
See comments section for links and more details!
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2021.10.21 12:11 pixburgh630 I love you SafeMoon SM but…
For the love of God please update these charts on the app. They are seriously the worst out of all of them. Also, If you look at Trust wallets exchange it’s simple and easy to use. Expect SafeMoon Exchange to look similar if they can’t update their charts past this level. Please. This is the foundation we are build right now
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2021.10.21 12:11 Lost_Tumbleweed_2203 we've given our platform a little facelift
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2021.10.21 12:11 ironyis4suckerz Just came across this sub and I have a question that I think about often and i’m hoping someone can answer it - can other nests besides honey bees nest, be salvaged and saved as opposed to destroying it??? more in comments…
so I keep wondering why pest control companies just destroy paper wasp nests (and the bees themselves). is there no way to save them / move them / etc? this could go for anything of course…paper wasps, bald faced hornets, etc.
I hope this makes sense. basically….why do we kill everything that isn’t a honey bee???
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2021.10.21 12:11 matze_styles4you Realistic WF - S4U RC ONE Winter (Watch4)
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2021.10.21 12:11 yhood Nucleus token charts looking good
2021.10.21 12:11 honeydewmelon_dog ich🇸🇪iel
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2021.10.21 12:11 pxland What is the #1 problem with American society right now?
2021.10.21 12:11 Erutious Purga De Ratas
The celebration of Purga Renovadora was a celebration that was highly anticipated in my town.
The celebration is always capped off by the Hunting of the Mice, which was the highlight of the event.
On the first day of the feast, we opened the door to find the three masks attached to our doorknob.
This occurred year after year for as long as I could remember, and I didn't think it was strange at all. Every year we would open the door to find three cat masks, long wire whiskers, and pointy black ears, hanging from the doorknob of our home. There would be one for my mother, one for my father, and one for me. We would wear them at the festival, riding the rides and playing the games, lifting them only slightly to eat the food at the feast as we gave praise to Saint Roche. This year, however, was special for me. I was thirteen, old enough to do a day's work if I chose to, old enough to have my own money, and to have my own responsibilities.
Old enough to participate in what came after the feast.
Old enough to participate in the Purga de Ratas.
I had always watched from the windows of the Council Hall with the other children as the people in the cat masks went about freeing us of the rats. You could see them sometimes, the big rats with their pointed noses and coarse whiskers, running through the streets as the cats turned them out of wherever they were hiding. I asked mother what they were, they were larger than the rats I had seen in our pantry on occasions, and she had told me that these were the undesirables, those who Saint Roche had chosen to purge from the community and that it was the job of the town to become his Cats and free the community of them.
I asked her once if we could be chosen by Saint Roche to be purged on that night, and she had told me that I'd better pray that it never happened.
Those who were purged on the Purga de Ratas were cursed and removed from town after being destroyed.
This was the year I would discover what that truly meant.
I went to the festival in my mask, excited for the night to come. As I played the games, danced at the Danza de Rothe, and ate at the feast, I couldn't help but think of taking to the streets with my father and mother that night to help purge the unclean from my town. Mother had said that they were Saint Roche's enemies, said that her father had said they were filled with spirits who had brought the plague to their city when she was a girl. If they didn't purge all of them, they would bring it there again. I was excited to go out and bring honor to my family as I drove these rats out of the city, but I was also a little scared. It was that feeling you get just before doing something dangerous and exciting, like riding a wild horse. You fear the action, but you can't wait for the ride.
I was a little sad, though, because my friend Maria wasn't there. She never missed the festival, and not seeing her made me wonder if she was sick? Her father wasn't a nice man, my father said. He didn't support the festival, and he had tried to argue for having it canceled many times. He always seemed nice to me when I visited Maria, but I knew well enough not to argue with my father. I didn't see Maria all day, and as we went home with the setting sun, I hoped I would see her tonight. We returned home, and I ate at the midnight feast that my parents always ate before it was time to go to the night's work. I tucked in greedily, knowing I would need my strength for what was to come.
God help me, I was young, and I didn't know what was in store for me.
As we ate, I asked my mother about the people who didn't go to the festival? She looked up critically, asking what I meant. I told her I saw someone peeking through the windows of their home. They moved away from the window quickly, but I had marked them by their whiskers and beady eyes. Mother said that those people were not to be trusted and that clearly they had been infested with spirits Saint Rothe wanted us to expel from the city that night. I nodded, making a note of that house in my mind. Their house was close to ours, and my parents and I could get there easily and chase them out.
When the deep thrum of the midnight bell tolled, Father donned his mask and led us to the kitchen. They could get right to the work at hand tonight. There would be no need to take me to the chapel for safekeeping tonight. He handed each of us a knife from the knife block, saving the sharpest knife for me. It was a long, curved fillet knife, and he told me not to be afraid to swing it hard.
"They aren't people anymore, and we must expunge the plague from the city."
I nodded, not understanding entirely, but I soon would.
We left the house, and I took them to the house I had seen earlier, seeing the other cats as they moved through the city. They were moving in clusters, groups of five to ten, and soon we had been taken into a clowder easily. The other cats around me were a comfortable weight, all of the people I knew, though I didn't know that I knew them. They followed us as we went, letting us lead them to the rats.
The lights were off when we approached, the house dark, and the windows shuttered. I figured this would be the time when we would scare the mice out of their hole. I had seen my kitten, Georgette, scare mice out of their holes before. She would pretend to be interested in one hole, and then, when the mouse would poke its head from the other hole and come hesitantly out, she would dash at them and scare them out of the house. She would run them and run them, her kitten energy boundless, until mother finally saw them and swept them out with the broom, always with a cry of "Purga de Ratas!" as she swept them from our home.
But we were no kittens, it seemed.
The cats of this city did not hunt like that.
The stone made me jump when it crashed through the window. The window shattered inward, and I heard someone shriek. We had scared the rats, and now they would come running out. But this was also how kittens hunted. Several of the cats, the ones with clubs as well as knives, cleared the glass out of the window and climbed through easily. The shrieks from inside were undoubtedly more human than ratlike, but when the door burst open, one of the rats ran for it, just like the ones at home. No broom came to sweep him away. The clowder fell on him, and I saw his hand come up to reach as the knives came down.
I stopped as I saw what they were doing, feeling a little sick as I saw the blood leaking from the rat. He was bigger than I had expected, bigger than me, and he twitched as he lay there. I took a step back, not really wanting to get too close, but my mother pushed me forward as her hand stopped my retreat. I looked back into her cat mask and saw her gentle eyes as she pushed me again.
"Go on, honey. Get a cut in."
I stepped forward, some of my excitement dulled by fear, and saw the struggling rat look up at me as it bled onto the cobbles. Its black eyes stared at me, and it coughed wetly, though its lips did not move. I held my knife in a shaky hand, preparing to strike, when the rat suddenly reached out for me, locking its hand around my ankle. My fear gripped me, and I suddenly stabbed out with the knife. I stabbed the rat, again and again, closing my eyes as I stabbed his arm, his back, and his neck.
The hand went limp as he flopped to the cobbles.
The clowder cheered, and we were off again.
We ran, drunk off our own power, and found a pair of rats in the street as they dodged another group. They were cutting down an alley as we came upon them, but they looked up at our group as it came close. One of them took off down an alley, but the other just stood there, frozen in terror as the clowder fell on her. She screamed as we stabbed her, but I broke off to pursue the other one as they finished stabbing and beating her. I didn't want her to get away, but my blood was also up, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to take one of these rats down myself. I ran after her, leaving others behind, and found her just as she hit the wall to the alley.
She turned, seeing me, and started looking around fitfully.
I could almost taste her fear as I stalked closer, knife at the ready.
I too would purge my town of rats.
"Please," she begged, and her words gave me pause.
She was speaking. Did rats speak? None of the rats I had ever seen spoke. Of course, none of the rats I had ever seen were this big either. The speaking rat made me falter for a moment, and she took full advantage of this as she tried to reason with me.
"Please, please don't hurt me. I'll give you whatever you want. I just don't want to die."
I heard the clowder coming up behind me, yelling as they came, and their presence gave me strength. I ran forward and shoved the knife into the rat, the blade sinking into the abdomen as I shouted “Purga de Ratas!”. Her dress started reddening, her hands gripping the knife as she cut her fingers, and she fell to her knees as the clowder came into the alley with a shout of mirth.
I pulled the knife out and ran to my father, who pulled me into his arms and whispered, "You're a natural."
At that moment, I was so proud. My family was doing something special, and we were a united front. Sometimes it almost felt like we lived our own lives, only seeing each other at dinner, but now we were doing something we could all enjoy, and I couldn't wait till next year.
I didn't have the slightest idea what I was doing, but I would soon find out.
I followed the clowder, growing bolder as we went until we came to the next house.
They pounded on the door, yelling for the rats to come out and face their fate. Everyone else was waiting expectantly, waiting for the door to open so they could charge the house and kill these rats too. I was confused, though. There must have been some mistake. This couldn't be the rat's house. They were looking for rocks to break the window, but I just shook my head and felt my confusion mount.
This couldn't be the right house.
This was Maria's House.
The door opened suddenly, and Maria's father stepped out onto the stoop. He wasn't wearing a mask, his face having a stoic cast, as he raised his rifle and pointed it at the mob. Some of them backed up, but most of them only seemed to take more pleasure from his presence. They mumbled to themselves, gripping their knives and preparing to charge. Maria's father cast his gaze around at them, his eyes falling on me for a moment before sliding away.
"I'm not wearing your damn mask. This whole celebration is an abomination! If you mean to take my family, you can come and try. I'll take at least a few of you with me. Just remember, which of you will be wearing rat masks next year?"
I backed away from the clowder slowly, my knife hitting the cobbles. No one noticed the metallic sound or the scream that followed it as the rifle blammed loudly. One of the cats had charged him, thinking he wouldn't shoot, and now he lay bleeding on his doorstep. The gun went off again a moment later, but I didn't see who it had killed then. I was running, head down, my mask forgotten as I turned from the carnage that I now understood was not a magic festival or fight for our town from giant rats. We were killing our friends, our neighbors, and I would never understand why. I ran, I ran as the tears streamed down my face, and I didn't stop running until the sounds of rats and cats were behind me. I ran until the woods enveloped me, that lush fairy tale wood that seemed to surround our home. The trees whipped at me, the roots pulled at me, and I just kept running. I ran from the horror, from the chaos, and I didn't stop until the ground went out from under me.
Suddenly, I was tumbling. I was rolling down something, and I put my hands up to my face to protect myself. I was so confused, so frightened, and when I hit my head on something, my vision got very blurry. I kept rolling, struggling to maintain my consciousness. I was slapping against bushes and banging against small rocks, and when I finally came to rest, I felt warm, solid ground beneath me.
When the lights engulfed me, leaving me in a warm circle, I passed out.
I woke up in a hospital.
The nurses said I had been found lying on a major highway, a truck driver having brought me here after calling the police. I had been unconscious for a while, a day at least, and I had a pretty massive head wound that would need to heal. The doctor said I had a small skull fracture and that I definitely had a concussion. They kept for a month, most of which was trying to get me to tell them who I was and where I was from. I feigned memory loss; the woman in mothers' books lost their memories sometimes after an accident. I did not want to go back home. I knew for a fact that if I went home, after running away from the festival, that my family might very well find rat masks on their door next year. I also didn't want to face the wrath of my parents and my community. No one refused to participate in the festival, or, like Maria's father, they were made to play the rats.
After a month, I was sent to an orphanage where I was adopted. The country I'm from doesn't have the best track record when it comes to placing children into foster homes or even having them adopted by good families, but I suppose I got lucky. Glenda and Mark were from the United States, here to do missionary work. When Glenda heard about my story, she became interested in me. She said it was as if God had pushed her to help me, and they adopted me. They stayed for a few years, helping me get back on my feet, and when they went home, they helped me gain citizenship and become a United States citizen. I moved with them to Sandiego and attended college. I never told them about my village or Purga Renovadora, and they never pushed me. I think they suspected that my amnesia was self-inflicted, and they are the best parents I ever could have asked for.
I'm thirty now, married, with a new baby and a place of our own. Marco is a wonderful father, and we couldn't be happier. He works as a civil engineer for a large company, and I work as a nurse when I'm not at home with Hugo. Glenda and Mark, my mom and dad, are always welcome in our home, and I can't imagine a better life than the one I have.
The life that my past is threatening to take away.
You see, when I went to get the mail today, I noticed something was hanging on the door of our home. I saw the masks, laughing and thinking it was a Halloween thing from the neighbors, but when I picked them up, the wiry whiskers stuck painfully into my hand. I dropped them and stared in horror. They were masks all right, three of them, and they all had the gray lacquered faces of rats. The whiskers were frayed metal wires, and the nose of one had been broken in the fall, a delicate black bulb that now lay on the pavement beside the mask.
There were three masks, as I said, and the third was the one that filled me with the most dread.
Two were normal-sized, easily capable of fitting an adult face, but the third was small, delicate, the eyes carved to make it look scared and sad.
A mask for a baby.
There was a note inside one, and I thought I would tear it as my shaking hands reached out to open it. The paper was rough, hand-made, and the ink was thick and blocky. The village made its own paper, its own ink, and rarely trading with others. I had no doubt that the masks had been made by the same old man that used to make them every year. I felt the tears come on as I read the note, the concrete biting my knees as I went to them and sobbed against the paper.
The note read- Joyous Purga Renovadora, join us this evening for the Purga de Ratas. If you cannot attend, don't worry. We will bring the celebration to you.
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