Sporadic Cossack uprisings were now aimed at the Russian authorities, but eventually petered out by the late 18th century, following the destruction of entire Cossack hosts. After the Partitions of Poland in 1772, 1793 and 1795, the extreme west of Ukraine fell under the control of the Austrians, with the rest becoming a part of the Russian Empire. Kaunas (/ ˈ k aʊ n ə s /; Lithuanian: [ˈkɐʊˑnɐs] (); also see other names) is the second-largest city in Lithuania after Vilnius and an important centre of Lithuanian economic, academic, and cultural life. Kaunas was the biggest city and the centre of a county in the Duchy of Trakai of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and Trakai Palatinate since 1413. In the Russian Empire, it was the ... Despite modern Russia’s 70 year legacy of official atheism, the irony is that Pussy Riot would have spent a maximum of three months in jail under blasphemy laws in the Russian Empire (had they gone to prison at all). Really, if anything, the Russian Empire had become too progressive, too liberal, too humane for its own good.
2022.01.26 20:37 Beanboi-78 Russian Empire formed by Muscovy before turn 600
2022.01.26 20:37 MythUnleashed Robin Hood | England's Legendary Outlaw
2022.01.26 20:37 ZealousidealFile3592 so hot
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2022.01.26 20:37 Glorosereid Oversized Half-Zip Scuba
Ive decided I can’t live without it anymore . Does anyone know how often they restock sizes /colours ? ( in Canada) Are spring colours expected soon ? TIA 🙏🏻
submitted by Glorosereid to lululemon [link] [comments]
2022.01.26 20:37 Eagle1337 Plexapi questions.
Hama is a bit screwy with windows and network paths, and empty trash rarely works. Is there a way to have plex api look for files that are "unavailable" and use the delete command on them?
submitted by Eagle1337 to PleX [link] [comments]
2022.01.26 20:37 BullsUnited Do you predict that the S22 Ultra be capable to record video at 8k60 fps?
2022.01.26 20:37 FrenchySpinachLover Did someone ever use this ? Is it as good as they say?
|submitted by FrenchySpinachLover to SkincareAddicts [link] [comments]|
2022.01.26 20:37 -IM-THAT-GUY- How does someone overcome a loved one technically being ghosting them?
So I (22m now) started talking to this girl (31 now) just before covid. She's Irish in America and I'm just from the UK. We had been talking for about 4 months before she says that she's fallen in love with me. I said I cared about her (which I did) but told her as I hadn't been in love or a relationship before I'm not to sure if I loved her and she accepted that and kept talking as friends. 11 months into talking I get to the point I tell her my feelings as they had grown and I had fallen in love. Which still feels like a funny thing to say and feel. I fell in love. So we officialised us over the week after. 8 months later she tells me she's found herself a house. As she had been sharing with a friend and her daughter and another friend and her disabled sister and it'd got too much for her and I thought oh cool we could get to talk a bit more and more freely ... it didn't turn out like that. She messaged me the first day of the move and second and then it went quiet. So I thought she was busy setting herself up. So I left her too it. I waited 7 months. Stupidly love blind I waited. She proceeded to only message on 6 days throughout the 7 months and only one of those days we actually conversed. Nearing before I ended it I started realising she was making tiktoks. She would make a couple tiktoks (only for her followers) but she'd do it every couple of days and quite a few videos at a time. I did bring this up to her but still nothing. So because I was messaging via everyway I had to talk to her - snapchat, discord, whatsapp, tiktok and even texting - and she wasn't answering me what so ever but was clearly alive and making videos in front of my face but yet was blatantly ignoring me. I ended it. I would've preferred to do it either in person or on the phone but I couldn't wait and she wasn't replying. So I made a message both heartfelt and showing how hurt I was and sent it. That was in November I sent that. I haven't heard anything from her at all. No apologies. No accepting or denying our break up. No fucking acknowledgement I even exist or existed in her life. Like I was nothing. Like a toy for her amusement through covid and lockdowns.
I just don't know how to live everyday without thinking of her in good ways and in the bad ways. She was one of 2 people I'd opened up to in such a way and I thought I could trust her. I thought I knew her but maybe I didn't and I just don't know how to move on. I'd literally wake up and wait incredibly impatiently for around 5 hours before she woke. We use to stay up on a video call and talk for hours before we fell asleep, her at night and me in the early hours of the morning. It was wonderful. Which just makes me so confused and so lost because I thought for sure she felt the same.
So just how do you move on when someone you loved and trusted turned their back on you and ignored you?
submitted by -IM-THAT-GUY- to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
2022.01.26 20:37 shuvammax ⭐ Brand New Shiryo - Inu - DAPP based game & NFT’s in development! - Liquidity Lock - ✨ Launching Now on BSC
✌️ Welcome to Shiryo - Inu ✌️
⚡ Shiryo - Inu Shiryo - Inu Launching Now on BSC and it seems that play to earn game tokens are still one of the best niches to buy in DeFi! The roadmap details a fully functional trading card based game which will allow for the earning of the native token through different incentives including weekly competitions!
The team recently released concepts for the trading cards on their Telegram group and their design team has done an amazing job, this is a gem in the making and it is still incredibly early if you get in now. Having only been life for less than 24 hours the token is sitting at just above a $1M market cap which is incredibly low for a play to earn game, the team is really active on Telegram and the holders seem to be diamond handed after seeing the potential in this project!
♨️ Everything about this project has been super clean so far, the chart looks good and the website and concepts released so far have been on point.
The whitepaper is to be released today alongside more mockups of the concept for the game, the marketing has been on point with calls from all the biggest names on Telegram and Twitter. The developer even just hired a social media specific marketing agency to help get even more eyes on the project, Shiryo-Inu is about to become synonymous with the likes of Floki and Mononoke - Inu, don’t sleep on this one!
⚔️ Link Buy ⚔️
⛓️ Contract Address: 0x321d4aF8D428062669200744cB8464ed6942B626
⛓️ Pancakeswap: https://pancakeswap.finance/swap?outputCurrency=0x321d4aF8D428062669200744cB8464ed6942B626
⛓️ Website: https://shiryoinu.online/
⛓️ Telegram: https://t.me/ShiryoinuOnline
⛓️ Twitter: https://twitter.com/ShiryoInuBSC
submitted by shuvammax to ico [link] [comments]
2022.01.26 20:37 dirrtyremixes Kubrick - Love Vibration (Part Two) [VOLR0607R]
2022.01.26 20:37 nudewomen365 missrosiely
|submitted by nudewomen365 to KneelingInBikinis [link] [comments]|
2022.01.26 20:37 Lanier2000 another meme
|submitted by Lanier2000 to aaaaaaaarrrrro [link] [comments]|
2022.01.26 20:37 Spare-Toe9014 Manga style Mewtwo! Looking for criticism please :)
|submitted by Spare-Toe9014 to Pokemonart [link] [comments]|
2022.01.26 20:37 spcy_chkn_sndwch The inside scoop of Schilling's path through Baltimore
2022.01.26 20:37 100110000 The majority of r/SoftwareGore is just Android yet people hate when you mention it. Why?
2022.01.26 20:37 Henryphillips29 Have you ever suspected that someone likes you and what did you do besides leave it alone?
2022.01.26 20:37 negiblu Manga| Action,Romance
Looking for an mc where he reincanates into the body of a noble scumbag boy and his family are scumbags too like the boy, And later he pretends to be evil but actually doin good things and hidin it
submitted by negiblu to Animesuggest [link] [comments]
2022.01.26 20:37 ezequiel25_17 Water in a Green tea bottle 💧🟢
|submitted by ezequiel25_17 to HydroHomies [link] [comments]|
2022.01.26 20:37 seacobs Why are manhwas more original than manhuas?
I noticed manhwas were less original than mangas, but the characters are much more mature and the stories are much more grounded in reality, which is good, but compared to the stuffs coming from China I would say Korea is light years ahead in terms of creativity, which is surprising. Why is that? I honestly think China needs someone like me.
submitted by seacobs to manhwa [link] [comments]
2022.01.26 20:37 Erutious The Door
I met my husband when we were in college together. I was working on my bachelor's degree, helping out in the library for some much needed extra cash, when I first laid eyes on him. He was not the usual sort of man I fancied, more bookish than muscly. I found him charming in his own way, and we struck up a friendship. He told me he was a writer, was working on a book of short stories to submit to a publishing house. I offered to read them, and from that moment on, I became his biggest fan.
His stories were so...visceral. He wrote not as a writer but as a first-hand observer, and it wasn't long before his work was noticed. We were living together by then, our library friendship having blossomed into something more, and I could see how giddy he was when the letter came from Bordwin Publishing. When he read how they wanted to publish his book, I think it was the proudest moment of his life.
He kept writing for Bordwin, his stories finding a niche with the horror community. He also started selling his pieces to magazines and online sources, getting his name out there, and becoming more recognizable. As his fame grew, however, he still jokingly called me his biggest fan. I couldn't argue with him; I genuinely loved his work. He wrote the sort of stories than were genuinely terrifying and enticed the reader to keep reading until the very end. As his stories grew in number, I found myself curious about where they all came from. My husband, we'll call him Michael, was a mild-mannered fellow who had never really experienced anything horrific in his life. He described his childhood as benign, with no broken bones or funny uncles. His family was loving and doted on him constantly. He had never been without. He had never really suffered, and I found myself very curious about where all these nightmares came from in such a beautiful mind.
Then, over drinks one night, he told me.
He didn't like to talk about it when sober. He always said that discussing the "creative process" was boring or that his stories' technical aspect would bore me to tears. I wasn't fooled, though. Beneath his jokes was something colder, something fearful. So one night, I pressed him. He still didn't really want to talk about it, but I was persistent. Finally, after a lot of coaxing and some strong whiskey, he all but blurted his answer to me.
I wish now I hadn't asked.
"Its The Door," he said, and at that moment, he seemed almost afraid of his own words.
"The Door?" I asked, confused by the queerness of his answer.
"What do you dream about?" he asked, so suddenly it took me by surprise.
"Oh, I don't know. Normal things, I guess. What I did that day and movies I've watched and weird things my mind cooks up."
"I have only ever had the same dream my entire life. It is always the same; it never changes. It is where I get all my ideas."
I leaned forward, intrigued by what he was telling me.
He seemed emboldened by my attention.
"The Door lies in space, at least I believe it must be space. It floats in a great void, and every night, I visit it. I float through this void naked, an umbilicus connecting me to whatever lies beyond. Every night, I approach the door, and every night it whispers to me through the keyhole. Do you remember the little journal by my bedside?"
"I have trained myself to write the things I hear while asleep. Sometimes I see pictures or faces when I look through the keyhole. Sometimes I hear terrible words spoken by creatures I imagine to be beyond description. Sometimes I have to close my eyes and will myself awake because I am afraid that the things they tell me will drive me insane. When I wake up, I read what I have written down, which becomes my stories."
I was shocked, "So, all your stories come from this big door in space?"
He smiled, "It sounds silly when you say it like that, but...yes. Everything I have ever written was spoken to me by something on the other side of this door."
I didn't think anything of it the next day. We had been drunk, and he had just spouted off something to make me shut up, I was sure. I became more aware of his journal, though. Sometimes at night, he would wake me up with the scritch scratch of his pen on the page. I didn't like to look at him when he was writing in it. It was like something otherworldly had taken his strings and was using him without his permission. Watching him write in that fugue state made me feel uncomfortable, and I took measures to not be awake while this was going on.
I didn't think anything of this, however, until about three months ago.
That was when he started having nightmares.
His work had always been creepy, always been terrifying, but now it took on an alarming quality. He began talking about creatures that lived beyond the door. These creatures sounded more than a little Lovecraftian, and he was assured that their presence on Earth was an afront to the natural order. They came and went, their arrival marked by some with great portents, and their battles had shaped history.
The stories weren't the only things that changed, though.
He began to sleep poorly. His sleep had always been placid, peaceful, but now he thrashed and mumbled in his sleep. He whispered in the night about a Pale Lady and The Green Man and Riotous Red that surged like blood. The words he wrote in his journal were unreadable, a foreign language, but he sat and transcribed them every morning like a dutiful follower of some religion.
He began to change. His eyes bore huge bags, he was jumpy and unsure of himself, and more than once, I caught him catnapping fitfully during the day. His writing, however, had never been more in demand. The magazines he wrote for wanted more stories about these strange old ones. His editor wanted to publish a compilation of them at once. He had no lack of material for the book, but I began to get worried about his health as he proceeded.
We had been married for two years then, just starting to make a life together, and I was afraid that his candle would burn out before mine.
I asked him one night to stop writing the stories. He was at his computer, typing away dutifully when I made the request. He turned his head to look at me, haunted eyes boring into mine, and laughed for the first time in weeks. It wasn't his laugh, though. The laughter was jagged and full of despair, humor shared only by the damned.
He laughed like a mad man.
"I cant. If I stop writing, They won't like it."
"Who?" I asked in confusion.
"The ones beyond the door. They have marked me as their chronicler, and I can't stop until the job is done."
"These things are killing you. Can't, you see that, Michael?"
He slumped over his keyboard, resting his head against it and making a line of letters as he did so.
"Don't you think I would if I could?" he snapped, and it was the first time I had ever heard him speak harshly to me, "If I could stop, I would. It would give me such joy to stop. The things they tell me..." he shuddered, "No one should know the things they tell me. Its fruit from the poisoned tree, and I wish I did not have what they give me."
"Then stop." I said suddenly, "Just stop writing it. Tell them that you refuse to write their story."
Michael looked horrified, "Refuse them? I have never refused a story before. What if...what if it stops the door from working?"
I turned him in his chair and pulled him to me, "The door is in your mind, love. The way it manifests is nothing more than your own mind working through your stories. The monsters are of your own making. You control them, they don't control you."
At that moment, he looked relieved. He hugged me back and seemed on the verge of tears. I don't think he had ever thought of these nightly excursions in anything but a literal sense. He had never imagined that these things could be of his own creation, and the knowledge made him feel free.
"I'll tell them tonight then." he said with a smile, "I'll tell them that I don't want to write about them anymore. I'll tell Fred that I don't want to continue these stories in the morning. He won't like it, but he'll understand."
We went to bed then, and I figured that would be the end of the nightmare.
I was wrong.
He woke me in the night, screaming. The back of his hand hit me in the face, and I rolled awake to the sound of his screams. He was thrashing around, clutching his stomach and kicking his legs frantically. I tried to wake him, I know everything says not to do that, but I wanted him to wake up. I slapped his face, threw water on him, screamed his name, but nothing worked. Someone banged on the door, but I ignored them. I tried in every way I knew to help my husband.
Finally, he helped himself.
We were in the ER, the knocking person had called the paramedics, and they had burst in. They thought someone was being murdered, but they loaded him up and took him straight to the hospital when they saw the scene. He lay in an Er bed, screaming and kicking until they finally restrained him. He went right on thrashing and yelling until nearly four in the morning.
Then he gasped loudly, like a diver coming up from a great depth, and seemed to come awake.
"They cut my umbilicus," he said in tones of most profound sorrow.
They moved him upstairs later that day. The doctor who talked to him was afraid he might hurt himself, and I was a little worried too. For the next two days, he sat strapped to a hospital bed, fighting sleep. He couldn't sleep, he told me, because he would have no way to get back without his umbilicus.
"I would be lost forever," he said, "and my consciousness would float forever in that void."
He told me how he had told the thing behind the door that he would no longer write its story. I had assured him that it was all in his head, that it was a product of his imagination. When it had burst through the door and screamed, he knew it was all too real. He had run then, fled across the void, but the creature had wings, and it had chased him.
"It...it defies description. Its legs were equine, its head looked like a living rock, its body was made of stars...I don't know, dear. Its mouth was full of firey teeth, and when it lunged at me, I could do nothing but flee."
As he had run, the thing had slashed at him. The clawed hand had torn at his umbilicus. Michael said a pain like a rending scythe had torn through his belly, and as he writhed, he could see the firey teeth sever the root from him. He had caught the end then, using the last of his strength to grab the trailing end, and pulled himself out of that dark place a little at a time.
He was afraid after that, afraid to go back.
Afraid of what might be waiting for him.
He fought sleep for the next three days. He would nod and awaken, nod, and awaken, but it seemed harder for him to come back every time. He begged his doctor for caffeine pills, anything to keep him awake, but the doctors thought sleep would do him better than drugs. They fiddled with the idea of sedating him, but I forbade it. When they threatened to get the police involved, thinking I was somehow responsible for this, I threatened to call a lawyer. Finally, we reached a shaky standoff.
It was mute after the third day.
I lost the fight first, drifting off as I sat by his side.
When I awoke, he was gone.
He's in the ICU now. His coma is deep, and the doctors are afraid he might have suffered a stroke. They don't know about his nightly travels, wouldn't believe me if I told them, but I know what has happened to him. He's adrift in the void, maybe already dead at the hands of this elder thing, and there is nothing I can do to get him back.
But maybe there is something you all can do.
My husband could not have been the only one traveling to this place. Some of you must have heard the whispers through the door as well. If you see this door, and if you find my husband, please bring him back. I don't know how you would, but please try.
And if the creatures on the other side of the door talk to you about these things on the other side, please do your self a favor and listen to them.
I wish I had never told him to stop listening.
The price you pay for ignoring them might be your life.
The price might even be steeper than that.
submitted by Erutious to Tell_Your_Stories [link] [comments]
2022.01.26 20:37 ess4 Three 45 minute drives a week to maintain battery?
Posting for my mom. She has a new 2021 Honda HR-V and the battery keeps dying. I'm going with her tomorrow to the dealership and I just want to be prepared. My mom thinks that they told her on the phone that the reason this keeps happening is because the car has to be driven 3 times a week, for 45 minutes each time. I'm hoping she misunderstood, but has anyone heard of anything like that??? Thank you for any feedback.
submitted by ess4 to HRV [link] [comments]
2022.01.26 20:37 Extreme_Homework7936 System of a Down's Serj Tankian: "Music has become so commodified, it's worth nothing."
|submitted by Extreme_Homework7936 to AnythingGoesNews [link] [comments]|
2022.01.26 20:37 Mass009 building my own epidemiushalfway there i guess.
2022.01.26 20:37 ryan_godzez Family fun
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2022.01.26 20:37 AustinTreeLover This water fountain . . .