443 predictions 🤢🤮 people

2021.12.05 11:03 Zealousideal-Rub-150 443 predictions 🤢🤮 people

Why the fk do people care so much about dumb celebrities and their life :(
submitted by Zealousideal-Rub-150 to IndianTeenagers [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 Radiant_Focus8861 Feature request: Multiple selection, "Deselect all", and "select all" only selecting top song lists in sort category

This would make it easier to select and organize songs.
submitted by Radiant_Focus8861 to Soundiiz [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 coffeeandcrackers It gets better.

Not enough people say this, but I want you know that it gets better. Sure, it can and sometimes will get worse, but it also gets better. I've been there before. And hopefully right now I'm en route to there again.
submitted by coffeeandcrackers to migraine [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 SplitGillStudio NPD #2! Opus88 Fantasia & Koloro, both with broad nibs. Finally arrived after being delayed three times and traveling to another state and back, detouring around before arriving home.

NPD #2! Opus88 Fantasia & Koloro, both with broad nibs. Finally arrived after being delayed three times and traveling to another state and back, detouring around before arriving home. submitted by SplitGillStudio to fountainpens [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 ExplosiveEichYT Duos as Dyna against 20 power cube buzz

Duos as Dyna against 20 power cube buzz submitted by ExplosiveEichYT to Brawlstars [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 JRGTheConlanger OFH 8: The rescues

submitted by JRGTheConlanger to BattleForALovePotion [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 OutlawedBoDuke I need an idea for a Christmas present for this jerk. I really do love him, he's my world, but he's so spoiled he already has just about everything.

I need an idea for a Christmas present for this jerk. I really do love him, he's my world, but he's so spoiled he already has just about everything. submitted by OutlawedBoDuke to parrots [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 hiphopbeerdude 17 years ago today. At Turning Point 2004. Jeff Hardy and AJ Styles and Macho Man Randy Savage defeated Hall, Nash and Jarrett. This would be Macho Man’s last televised match.

submitted by hiphopbeerdude to SquaredCircle [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 El_Sensei_2008 The 2nd piece called “dead fish” of my debut NFT collection - what are your thoughts? Link in comment

The 2nd piece called “dead fish” of my debut NFT collection - what are your thoughts? Link in comment submitted by El_Sensei_2008 to AlgoNFTMarketplace [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 turnaround0101 [WP] You're immortal: If you die, you immediately respawn in the closest safe location. Usually a few meters away, sometimes a few kms away. But in a time of global war, you die and respawn on a completely unknown planet, millions of lightyears away.

Their war had ended long ago.
That much and no more was obvious about the world Angelo walked through, a place that might have been Earth in some time eons ago, was now no more than a ruin run through by twining ivy and questing trees. A place where the dead skyscrapers were topped by falls of leaves that looked like a weeping willow run through drug fueled psychosis, leaves blue or red or sickly yellow by turns of the light, branches and roots moving freely between the shattered windows and through the broken floors like rough-scaled, dark barked snakes.
Angelo walked through it all, the dead skyscrapers and the verdant, oppressive forest, and the cratered plain between that called to him, on a world where the moons were all wrong and the sun was sometimes doubled, even tripled. On the three sun days Angelo did not walk at all, preferring the safety of the strange and twisted trees that grew up out of the many shell craters in plain. Their trunks split by those long ago blasts, these trees had been scattered all throughout the pits in the ground only to reform in a single, almost self sufficient ecosystem— little forests all on their own, arm thick tendrils connected above hollowed bowls like many long fingers grasping towards a common ground.
He met Selver on a three sun day, hiding in the bole of the tree that was the creature’s home.
There were no words the first day, only shock and terror. Selver was an ancient looking thing, three feet tall at best. Like a little child made of a bark flexible as skin, silver cored eyes set in pools of emerald green, branch-like tendrils tumbling down his scalp and spine in a wave of lush, blossoming spring.
Three more times Angelo saw Selver before he learned the creature’s name. Once by the light of the many moons. Once in the broken city, hiding in the shadows of a bombed out ruin that might once have been an apartment building for colossi: the ceilings were twelve feet tall or more.
Finally, strikingly, Angelo saw the creature ambling across the plains from one self contained crater-forest to another, bearing a bucket of brakish water over one shoulder and a small knife-like implement in his hands. And that time, because the knife was familiar in a land where nothing else was, Angelo came upon the creature and asked not ‘what is your name,’ but, “What is your rank?” and “Who do you serve?”
“Selver,” the creature said, a title like no other Angelo had ever heard.
And the creature was gone into the shell crater, scurrying away between the wiry roots of the shattered but never dead trees.
***
On Earth Angelo had sometimes thought himself a god. Why should he not? His governments had always treated him as such, at least by the standards of the other enlisted men.
Angelo had been an enigma for as long as anyone in the government could remember. The same man reappeared constantly throughout the world’s apocalyptic war. Angelo, dark of skin and dark of hair, tall by the standards of his people. Strong but not unusually so. Agile, and that was unusual.
From generation to generation the various governments of Earth would watch the enlistment rolls, never the draft notices, Angelo didn’t need to be drafted, and like clock work he would appear, a year or less after his last death. All the same memories, all the same skills, but increasing each time until he became a sort of secret weapon: a man used when no other man would do, or would take the order, or would spend his life so freely.
And generation to generation, that training was ingrained.
There were structures in Angelo’s mind deeper than breathing. Deference was one, discipline another. Sacrifice and a certain, cold burning ferocity. From the time of his first childhood on an island that no longer existed, Angelo had been trained to these things.
His question to Selver, then, was not unusual for Angelo. It was the only thing he could think of, here in a world where the war had already been won or lost. He searched for the power structures, for a banner or a man or a cause outside himself to pledge himself to. He searched for Selver, because though the little creature was hardly human such distinctions had rarely mattered much to Angelo, and because there was no one else around.
And so Selver, in the shell crater that was his home or among the other craters where he tended the nascent forest, came to know the sound of Angelo’s voice well. To understand the man who sat at the edge of his cored out world, asking questions in his cold, hard voice.
And Selver, because he was in fact an ancient thing, came to understand the man behind the voice, the words Angelo did not say.
The words buried deeper in the man’s psyche than any conscious thought.
On a day like any other Selver looked up at Angelo sitting at the crater’s edge and said, “You are like these trees.”
And now it was Angelo’s turn not to speak, struck dumb by a creature who spoke English in a twisted, whispery accent, but who spoke it nonetheless.
“And now you are as quiet as them too,” Selver said. “Why could you not be any other day, when I was at my work?”
“What work do you do?” Angelo said, the spark of his discipline breaking through his fear to grab at the world’s one familiar thread.
“I heal,” Selver said, and saying that he turned away, took up his bucket made of rusted steel and the ever-hungry Nappir roots that consumed it. Selver crouched down and clawed at the ground with his long fingered hands, sifting blasted dirt until the water bubbled up to fill the bucket, brackish and poisoned and wrong.
Angelo watched with a growing hunger. He couldn't parse Selver’s inhuman face. It was small and pinched, no obvious nose, a ragged slash where lips should be. A face dominated by eyes and fringed by the blossoming tendrils of his hair, expressionless even by Angelo’s standards.
But the eyes were so focused as they worked, as the bucket filled. The long fingered hands were steady and strong and purposeful with every sifting of the earth.
“What are you healing?” Angelo asked when the bucket was full.
“A world,” Selver said. He handed Angelo the bucket and filled another, for he had made a second in the days where Angelo watched and babbled from the crater’s edge.
Angelo took the bucket, staring at the strange little creature in front of him.
“Now you will too,” Selver said, and he reached out a hand to Angelo.
A moment passed, another. Angelo thought of all the things that had come before, the days spent in shell craters like this one, no trees anywhere to be found in a leveled off world. He thought of governments who ordered and governments who had asked, islands lost beneath the waves and countries blotted out— the parts he’d played in those. He looked up to where the suns blotted out the stars and wondered where Earth was, if there was still an Earth, if there were still humans, if there were other creatures like him.
“What is your name?” Selver asked.
“Sergeant Angelo Ibarra,” Angelo said.
“Help me up, Sergeant Angelo Ibarra.”
Angelo took the hand, felt the strength and the roughness of it. They walked through the shadowed plains between living forest and ruined city, and Angelo poured the brackish water wherever he was told, dug for more in the craters where there was water to be had.
And when the moon and stars came out Angelo leaned against the roots in Selver’s home tree staring up at constellations no man from Earth had ever seen. Selver rested beside him, no noise but the slow rasp of his breath through the slashed lips and the occasional call of a distant bird that Selver had only identified as the Myna.
Even now, weeks removed from Earth, Angelo waited for the explosions. The shrieking whine of drones overhead and the acrid stench of scorched flesh where their lasers passed. Angelo looked to Selver, saw the knife held loosely in the creature’s hand.
“What do you look for, Sergeant Angelo Ibarra?” Selver said.
Angelo glanced back to the stars. “Home.”
“And what was home?”
The night passed on that question, and when it grew cold and Selver offered Angelo his blanket of luminescent moss the old soldier shook his head and found another shell crater to shiver in, staring up at stars that were not his own.
***
“What are we doing?” Angelo asked, sunk to his knees in a pit of mud, digging and hurling clods of the stuff away.
“Digging,” Selver said.
“But why?” Angelo had never asked questions before. But now after months on this strange new world he found himself bursting with them, and all revolving around the same things. Their work. Selver’s purpose. Angelo’s own, if a purpose could be had here for such a creature as him. He still wondered what Selver’s knife was for, and in the quiet of hours of the night beneath the mossy blanket they shared, his warrior’s blood hungered for it.
“I heal,” Selver said.
It was infuriating. Endlessly, all the little creature said was “I heal.” Angelo had grown to the point where he wondered if Selver was even sentient, wondered if he was simply acting out the routine of some jumped-up, bipedal beaver, carrying water and digging holes where a smarter animal might have built a damn. At least then they would have been building!
There was no building here, no changing, Angelo thought as he dug. No healing even, only water, water, and more water.
And a knife.
They dug until the suns came out and baked the sodden earth dry in their interminable summer. They dug until the little pit was a broad hole and Angelo could stand upright in it. They dug until the moons rose and the stars came out, and by their silver light Angelo saw what they were doing.
They were digging a shell crater.
Angelo fell against the crater’s side when he saw it, gasping at the realization. “The war…” he whispered.
“Yes?” Selver said.
“When was the war?”
“What is war?” Selver asked, and he went right back to digging, carving his crater from the earth.
Even fouler water welled up from below, stinking like oil, rot, pollution. It turned Angelo’s stomach to stand in it, but stand in it he did, because he no longer had the strength to stand apart now. Selver dug and dug and he sent Angelo to get the buckets and take awful water to the other holes where none was found, and when Angelo returned he was torn between it all. Selver might have been a beaver, his big silver and green eyes starring up from the massive, carved out crater, no tools but his hands and a bucket any moderately intelligent chimp might have made or found.
And the knife. Always the knife. Angelo searched for it in the muck, the one thing an animal could not make. A man’s weapon. His.
“What are you looking for, Sergeant Angelo Ibarra?”
Angelo shivered though this night was hardly cold.
“No matter,” Selver said, “no matter. Would you like to see a secret, friend? A secret only my kind have ever been allowed to see?”
“A secret?”
“Yes. Sergeant Angelo Ibarra, would you like to be a true Healer, if only for a night?”
Angelo nodded, and Selver began to sing.
Singing, like a whisper through the leaves of the weeping trees in the city. Singing like a single tenuous thread to home, shockingly beautiful as it soared upwards the stars; music that even Angelo, skeptical and frightened and confused as he was, could not discount as the work of some mindless animal, playing out his instincts in a hole in the ground.
Selver fell to his knees in the center of the pit. He stared up at Angelo, and at the shadow the giant cast across him beneath the light of the many moons. Selver still saw him as a tree, but not broken as Angelo thought of them— they were pieces of a whole yet to be allowed to truly live, performing their function as they waited on him.
And thinking that, Selver raised the knife to his scalp and cut loose a tendril of fire-bright blossoms, months old now and running nearly to his feet in a torrent of blues and reds and yellows.
The tendril’s base bled freely across Selver’s shaking palms. The wound burned, he felt weak and lightheaded, as he always did.
Selver dug deep into the ground, the polluted water filling the hole as quickly as he went. He buried the tendril of himself there, buried it elbow deep in the ruined soil. Then he stood and reversed the knife in his palm, held the handle out to Angelo.
“It hurts very badly,” Selver said. “Would you help me, Sergeant Angelo Ibarra?”
Angelo came down from the crater’s edge with the sound of Selver’s music still haunting him. The creature in front of him had never seemed so small, so weak. Green blood soaked his skin, ran in rivers down the pits of his eyes.
Angelo grasped the knife. It was tiny in his hand, but his body felt more complete with a weapon in hand.
He took it from the alien, stared at the blade. Scavenged, a piece of metal roughly sharpened and fixed seamlessly to a green-wood handle. Could an animal have done this? Could an animal have made music?
Could an animal have given him the orders he needed, in the days and months since he arrived?
Angelo looked into the silver cored eyes, a familiar coldness coming over him at the sight of all that blood.
“What work did you do, Sergeant Angelo Ibarra, in the land from which you came?”
“I killed,” Angelo said.
Selver nodded, no expression on that alien face. “And what work will you do, Sergeant Angelo Ibarra, in this world which we share?”
Angelo opened his mouth to respond but Selver reached out, lightning quick. He climbed Angelo’s lean body like a tree, pressed a finger to his lips. The alien's face was very close, the ragged edged mouth was terrible, toothless, a gaping wound.
“What work would you do, Sergeant Angelo Ibarra, if no man were here to shape you?”
It gutted him. Angelo fell to his knees as Selver disentangled himself, his hand so tight around the little knife. What work would he do? What work? What work had he always done?
But this planet, looking around the shell crater that was not, Angelo realized it might never have known a war.
What work would he do?
“I would heal,” Angelo whispered.
“Then cut me,” Selver said, “and let us shape a forest to heal the soil, the city. The world.”
Angelo cut him then. He sheared a dozen of the tendrils from Selver’s head with the barely sharp knife. The little alien never cried out, though at some point he stopped singing and simply took it in the glazed over manner of men who had known too much pain. Angelo knew that manner, it stirred something in him.
And when they were done, the twelve scattered all around, Selver stood without a word and showed him how to plant them.
The foulness fell out of the air as they worked. The awful, polluted water became merely brackish, and Angelo began to understand. He stared at the bleeding stumps on Selver’s head, counted thirty more of the tendrils. Enough for days more digging.
And in the aftermath as they lay exhausted and bleeding, the knife between them, there was a tearing in the world across the pit. Angelo looked up and saw a human girl there standing at the edge, knew the fright in her eyes as she stared at the world, at the moons, at the unfamiliar stars.
She was dressed poorly, in the tattered brown robes of refugees in their time. Hair close cropped, but her features were still too fine not to attract attention.
Their eyes met and she saw Selver, saw the blood, saw the knife, saw Angelo and his filthy urban combat fatigues.
The girl ran.
And Angelo, now a Healer even if just for this one night, did not chase her as he once might have. Instead he gathered Selver into his arms and tried to sing the creature’s song.
Angelo took him back to the tree that he called home, the tree that was him, and there he laid the little healer, not so alien as he had been that morning and never an animal. Animals did not take pain as this Selver did, they did not take the hard path, the necessary one.
“Did I imagine it,” Selver whispered as Angelo pulled the blanket over him, “or did I see another of your kind just now?”
“You did,” Angelo said.
“Strange,” Selver said, “so very strange you people are.”
“I could say the same about you,” Angelo said.
Selver laughed, a coarse, whistling thing. “What will do now, Sergeant Angelo Ibarra? Will you follow your clanmate?”
And Angelo shook his head, climbed beneath their shared blanket.
“What will you do?” Selver pressed.
“I will heal,” Angelo said, “and she will heal, and you will heal.”
“And?”
“And one day she’ll find us.”
“Ah. Goodnight, Sergeant Angelo Ibarra.”
“Goodnight, Selver.”
In the quiet broken only by the Myna bird, Angelo laid the knife down by his friend’s side. He thought of the song and the changing water, all the things he had mistaken for a war. He wondered at the colossal buildings, and at Selver’s people, who they each were and where they came from or had gone.
And as he slept, Angelo wondered after the girl. Terrified undoubtedly, but nonetheless like him. An immortal.
Yes, Angelo thought, for now he would heal, and one day she would find them.
original post
submitted by turnaround0101 to TurningtoWords [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 Infinite-Ad-912 What to do about him liking girls Instagram pics

I’m 29 and have been dating a guy who is 46 for just over a month. He initially was completely infatuated and told all his mates about me, took me out for a few very good dates. Now the “chase” has dwindled a bit and I stay at his a few times a week. He has a 4 yo daughter and she has met me more than a few times, he speaks about plans for the future with me in it and said he’s bought me something for Christmas.
All this aside I went on his following list and saw that he’s liking girls pics regularly. Not celebs or influencers but local hot girls. Some of which don’t follow him back. He also likes a lot of his guy mates content too so it could be construed as innocent admiring. HOWEVER, I know that guys who like my stuff regularly as sending a message that they want to hook up. It’s clear as day.
What do I do now? I know most people don’t care about this stuff but I really do! I don’t feel I can confront it as we haven’t even spoke about “us”. He’s told me he really likes me and all his other actions support that, he texts me throughout the day and wants to see me often. So what do I do? Cut lose? Talk to him at some point? Get tf over it?
submitted by Infinite-Ad-912 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 PinkAutumnSkies For those of you who are data driven… you may enjoy this. My resting heart rate has decreased since starting Lexapro last month! It’s been approximately 5 weeks since starting 10mg.

For those of you who are data driven… you may enjoy this. My resting heart rate has decreased since starting Lexapro last month! It’s been approximately 5 weeks since starting 10mg. submitted by PinkAutumnSkies to lexapro [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 FennelPie New viewer here. Why is he just sitting there? What is on his face?

New viewer here. Why is he just sitting there? What is on his face? submitted by FennelPie to atrioc [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 Mosey_9 "Pirate Settlement Detected"

The thin lava crust crackled under the boots of my exosuit when I stepped out of the cockpit. I deployed my signal booster, and barely cooled obsidian shards flew up around its feet. I felt Stygian heat radiating from below as I punched the commands to detect nearby structures, not expecting to find much on this fiery hell planet.
"UNKNOWN STRUCTURE DETECTED. MARKING APPROXIMATE COORDINATES."
Approximate? That's strange, why can't I tag the location? Unless someone is jamming the signal? ... Pirates ...
I hopped back into my fighter and took off, flying low between sheer cliffs and belching cinder cones, hoping for a visual through the sulfurous murk.
There.
A secure manufacturing facility with several outbuildings, but no Sentinels in sight. Whoever commandeered this place must have found a way to hack them to look the other way. Neat trick, that. I'd heard these dens sometimes hid troves of quicksilver, X-class modules, contraband multitools, who knew what else.
I opened fire with my cyclotron ballista and the reinforced door exploded in chunks out of its frame. Klaxons blared as several confused Gek in First Spawn battle masks streamed from the outbuildings and sprinted toward the landing pads, trailing hazy clouds of alarm pheromones behind them. Another ballista strafing run took out two of the six parked ships as well as a storage depot full of Magno-Gold and Geodesite. These Gek are doing well for themselves.
The remaining four fighters launched from the pads and accelerated, blue photon cannon bolts streaming toward me. I armed my positron ejector and dived into a nearby canyon ...
submitted by Mosey_9 to NoMansSkyTheGame [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 coljavskiyi ✊ Medabots ✊ Officially Launching Now on BSC Pad ⭐ Mobile Game & NFT Game of the Year | Millions of Fans Globally | Play to Earn | Fully Doxxed Team | AAA Devs.



UPCOMING #BSCPAD IDO:
MEDABOTS X MEDACOIN ($MEDA)
⚔️$MEDA is a new cryptocurrency that gives videogame users the ability to manage their virtual in-game goods! Not only will the token be the native currency of the Medabots NFT Marketplace, there are many other use cases as outlined below:
1: Purchase in-game items and physical Medabots merchandise
2: Use to enter live tournaments and earn tokens. Ability to use Medacoin tokens to enter wager matches!
3: Mint your own Medapart NFTs!
4: Earn coins by referring friends
5: The same MEDACOIN tokens can be used in/transferred to all future games
☄︎ MEDABOTS (single & multiplayer) will be launching on iOS & Android in Q4 2021. In 2022 Medabots will then launch on Nintendo Switch, PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X, and PC. The team even has plans in the future to create Medabots action figures and a movie!
Tokenomics:
☑︎100,000,000 (100M) supply
☑︎40% allocated for project launch
☑︎15% reserved for staking rewards
☑︎10% allocated to research and development (R&D)
☑︎10% allocated to marketing
☑︎10% for core team member sales
☑︎5% Tax on all transactions added to Liquidity Pool.
☘︎ Link Buy ☘︎
⚙️ Contract Address: 0x545Fc3dc9B77983028BEA3854740f169947B6fE8
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☎︎ Official Links:
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⚜️ Telegram: https://t.me/MedabotOfficial
⚜️ Twitter: https://twitter.com/MedabotsOffical
submitted by coljavskiyi to CryptoMoonCoins [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 cmille3 DJS with Genio Dec 3 (I'm the caretaker)

My 19 year old had surgery Friday Dec 3. She stayed 1 night in the hospital and came home Saturday at 9:30 pm. Today is Sunday Dec 5.
Here's what's working:

  1. Breathe Right Nasal Strips
  2. A shower stool. She sat in the steam for about 30 minutes last night and is in there right now.
  3. Warm mist humidifier with an essential oil well.
  4. Vick's VapoRub in the essential oil well.
  5. Put tubing on the medication syringe. The hospital gave us catheter syringes and tubes. We cut the tubes down because they are huge. Her lips are swollen and she needed to get meds past her tongue to swallow.
I won't lie. This sucks for her. It's awkward and uncomfortable and embarrassing. But this phase will be over soon.
submitted by cmille3 to jawsurgery [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 SuperFroakie64DS No, you are not allowed to show up on my island and ask to get a place to draw cartoons, vacation homes are for villagers I like.

No, you are not allowed to show up on my island and ask to get a place to draw cartoons, vacation homes are for villagers I like. submitted by SuperFroakie64DS to FuckHazel [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 goldenofdeath1 A corrupt priest

The year was April 8, 1406, and this was when alexander was born and he was born to a very Christian household where everything was Jesus but he didn't mind it as his father was a priest a corrupt one like most as he was greedy as he doesn't even give a dime to the poor and only uses for parties and mother normal medieval woman and he was taught about sin and how evil it was and the only way to enter heaven was by paying your way in or being baptized and alexander took it to heart as he was most truthful no matter how much it hurt the person but things changed a little when he grew older his father as well, as he taught his son how to be corrupt as he is and that Jesus would love this and how many followers he loved to have alexander to have.
Many years passed and alexander grew to like his father corrupt as him and taught the bible his way and paid people to be freed of their sins but he was about to punish in a rouge fire that happen in his home full of women and men worshiping him and some died in the fire while others were badly burnt. He died on Jan 27 1499 making his age 89
And alexander woke up and look at a mirror to see himself he was white as an angel but with skeleton demon wings and his eyes are goats and a marking of numbers that related to Jesus and the devil, he was confused about why he looked like this as he considers himself a good Christian man but he smiled as if he can find his old followers he can make a choir and make his heaven.
And this the story of alexander he still alive and survived a rampage in hell and his powers would be mind-controlling1mind-controlling as his powers come from the people who believe in him, he would have so many followers on hell as it's easy to lurk for new sinners as they need help to enter his heaven.
submitted by goldenofdeath1 to Hazbinroleplayandart [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 ProfessionNorth1366 Anyone familiar with this painter? I can’t even make the name out🤷🏻‍♂️

submitted by ProfessionNorth1366 to AskPeople [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 msalaar_ Pakistan’s First Ever Road built with Plastic Waste.

Pakistan’s First Ever Road built with Plastic Waste. submitted by msalaar_ to Damnthatsinteresting [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 ConDaniels new highest FATAL stat we’ve seen?

new highest FATAL stat we’ve seen? submitted by ConDaniels to MADFUT [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 DPVNews Straight No Chaser - it was fun! [2 views]

Straight No Chaser - it was fun! [2 views] submitted by DPVNews to unknownvideos [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 bram2468 Rate the builds

Rate the builds submitted by bram2468 to PixelCarRacer [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 Lifestartsover Job offer

I wanted to call you and I almost did. I came to my senses and talked to a close friend instead as I know talking to you would not be good for any of us currently involved.
I got a job offer. A really good one. They sought me out, threw money at me and hours which would accommodate our daughter. I had to think on it for a long while. I know you got out of this toxic work culture and you seem so happy since you did. That’s why I wanted to call. Until I realized that you would have told me to take the job only for the fact that YOU are happy with your new work environment. But would I have been?
My whole life I have known I would only be happy helping others and making a difference in this world. This new job would not involve making a difference. Like you, I would be back to being a call center type employee. An overpaid one lol. Although the thought of the money would have been great, money does not equal happiness.
Even though I hate the toxicity, every day I work to combat that through kindness, helping others, helping my coworkers work through problems, and teaching this ongoing class that has truly made a difference in how we are all perceived. I’ve accomplished so much that I do not give myself credit for. I truly believe that moving forward, once the restraints are gone, I can make that place into what it was always meant to be. Even you have told me as much when we still talked.
If it’s one thing I’ve learned through this whole experience, it’s that the grass is not always greener. I cannot give up on my dreams and goals. I will prove everyone wrong. Everyone is telling me to take the job. I feel I would be ignoring my gut to take it so I won’t. I’ve taken a risk on everything since the day I’ve met you. Though you are not in my life anymore, you’ve taught me that even bad things happen for a solid reason. Because of the bad that you’ve shown me, I swore I would never not trust my gut again.
I am not taking the job. My gut says make your dreams come true and that’s what I plan on doing.
submitted by Lifestartsover to UnsentLetters [link] [comments]


2021.12.05 11:03 ratalini [Landlord - US - NJ] Am I doing this right? First time listing apartment for new tenants.

Listed the apartment, had a number of viewings yesterday and more today. Several were fairly interested and asked for an application. I told them I am still showing the apt and will let them know afterwards if I want to move forward with them and at that point I will invite them to apply. Should I instead just have all interested parties apply? My thought is that it's not ethical to have someone spend money on an application when I know from screening/ talking with them during the tour that they wont be a good fit for the place. With so many people asking me for applications, I'm wondering if I'm not doing things in the best order.
Also - My plan is to use apartments dot com for the application process since they do background checks and all. Is there a better tool or process recommended for this?
submitted by ratalini to Landlord [link] [comments]


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