2022.01.22 11:52 Astro-SFS Akwebguide güvenilir mi? Hiç ordaki bi app store hesabına giriş yaptınız mı?
2022.01.22 11:52 thirdofseptember An inside look at Mike Woodson's final timeout on Thursday
2022.01.22 11:52 Certain_Ad_1546 My most recent work.. Thoughts and critiques?
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2022.01.22 11:52 lmarmotta Anyone knows the tabs and tuning of this Jimmy Page acoustic jam ?
It is from the "It might get loud" documentary. It is an amazing documentary, highly recommend anyone to watch !
Anyone has ever learned this jam before ?
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2022.01.22 11:52 dinotonte Samsung 55 "QN95A vs Samsung 55 "QN90A
I am from Eastern Europe and I have these two models to choose from, I can't seem to find the differences between this too, is it worst to spend 300 dollars more for the QN95A model or not? Right now I have a Hisense 55 inch version of u7q that is called u7qf and it seems it is a bit worse version of the American u7q. I watch movies I play games and that is all I do :) Thank you.
P.S. I am scared and would hate a burn-in effect so I don't want to go with an OLED model for now.
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2022.01.22 11:52 end_amd_abuse Double sided tape or glue similar to what apple uses to glue down flex cables in iphones?
Apple glues down their home button, display, and camera flex cables among other things. This adhesive is light enough where you can gently peel up fragile cables while still strong enough to keep them in place. Is there any suitable alternative for when that adhesive loses it's stick? If so a specific brand or model is appreciated.
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2022.01.22 11:52 ContentForager2 Hmmm... Interesting (/r/titanfall)
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2022.01.22 11:52 Public_Lingonberry50 A slave to my passion
Is anyone else like this?
I'm always exhausted. Every day, I run myself ragged and work until my body or mind is no longer able to, all for my special interest. I love it, but there's just so much to be done and not enough hours in the day to do it. Other work is starting to pile up and all I can do is what I like nowadays. Laundry, food, trash is all piling up but I can't seem to just- clean it up. I'm so tired.
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2022.01.22 11:52 ExrollerIsTaken For those who are still wondering what the triada blessings items do (combo)
2022.01.22 11:52 mrtramplefoot Made a frame pack this morning, 3rd time was a charm
2022.01.22 11:52 Nabiru-sama Most amount of erasers you’ve used? I think I’ve used about 300 to get that final slot to where it was
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2022.01.22 11:52 starwars92 How many hospital beds in socialist countries?
The US had 1.5 million hospital beds in 1975 and less than a million today. How many hospital beds do countries like China, DPRK, Cuba, etc. have?
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2022.01.22 11:52 Kenadog33 Comfy😊
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2022.01.22 11:52 intrepidsteve Question:
Veteran Skitarii: what is this unit and where do I find it?
I have the LE most recent codex and decided to try the warhammer list building app and I see veteran Skitarii as a troop option. What is the difference and where do I find the ruleset for these?
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2022.01.22 11:52 Void_Astra Attrition - Guns aren't the only solution
2022.01.22 11:52 ThisIsWaterSpeaking Out of everyone you've ever met, who had the dumbest first name?
2022.01.22 11:52 Pretend_Kitchen_6182 I drew this because it's Pretty ✨
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2022.01.22 11:52 TheMagicJankster Anyone else having problems with the Mods at r/askconservatives?
I just recently got banned for literally nothing. I didn't break any of the rules. When I contacted the mods I got one confused reply then I was muted for 28 days.
I nemo is a cool dude but jasper is ruining that place.
submitted by TheMagicJankster to AskALiberal [link] [comments]
2022.01.22 11:52 Much_Mirror Greetings. I would much appreciate any critique or notes on my first chapter of my debut novel "1995". thank you!
The Misty Man.
4:45 AM – Brownsville, NY
On the roof of a crack infested building, a boy beheld the streets of Brownsville, and in a few weeks, it would all be in flames.
Now, he was none the wiser as he jostled with his rickety telescope. On the roof, abandoned during dusk, a wisp of fog hovering about. During the day, the halls were busy with all manner of characters. Peddlers, ladies of the night, their exploits giving rise to the fabled Crack Tower. He frowned upwards. The same grey skies. Permeating throughout the hood since the beginning of the year.
Jefferson Jabari adjusted the metallic knob. It screeched in the air like a dying rodent. He flinched, scanning over his shoulder. No one.
Sighing, he peered into his eyepiece. All he saw was a magnified version of grey. A whiff of garbage invaded his nostrils. Grumbling rose from faceless hobos in the alley beneath. Rustling in hidden vents, New York city rats, and the murmur of early risers. Jefferson adjusted his knob again, zooming closer.
He had work in less than an hour, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least have this. His lone pastime in an otherwise mundane life. He glared at his plum red backpack. The same one he had at PS. 177, where he hid his stolen copies of The Autobiography of Malcom X, and Lolita. It wasn’t as if he could get the books any other way. The so-called teachers were so terrified, by junior year they requested security detail. Actual education was an afterthought.
He ruminated on their tomato blotched faces. Baking in some ghetto classroom. Contemplating their now cavalier post-secondary choices. After all, where’s the intellectual fulfillment in corralling the cattle?
Jefferson rattled his head. Their yellow Aryan hair whisking into his brain like poisonous blood. He tweaked the knob again. Same grey, but now, the clouds trickled. A simmering, far off into the horizon, betraying a faraway storm…
BANG! BANG! BANG!
He started, clutching his chest. The door on the opposite side flung open. Three smiling teens emerged, in trench coats unfit for mid-July. Jefferson turned, slowly, his hand still on his chest. A handsome cornrowed boy sauntered forth, bearing pearly teeth.
“Chu doing up here, pussy?’
Jefferson shut his eyes. His jaw clenched.
“Can a man not enjoy a bit of stargazing, in sweet, solemn peace?”
The three boys glared at each other then burst out laughing.
“Star gazing. I was star gazing.”
Cornrows strolled the perimeter, his hands tucked. His skinny and chubby cohorts, snickering.
“Don’t nobody know what the hell you talkin’ about… prep boy,” cornrows pointed at Jefferson’s feet. “Them some decent Penny’s you got on there. They look like about my size too. Yeah… “
Jefferson raised an eyebrow. He glared at the bully’s bulky Timberland boots. The lion skin texture, worn out soles, perpetually untied.
“I very much doubt that.”
“Yeah nigga, I bet you do.”
The grinning boy circled Jefferson, not looking at him. He rubbed his nose. His long Roman nose. Jefferson followed him with only his eyes, his hand massaging his chest.
“Take them shoes off right now… or you goin’ over the roof.”
Jefferson pushed out a sigh.
“Y’all hear about Rodney?”
The three boys were quiet. Creaking windows from unretired shops fleshed out the silence. A pale light crept up the horizon, revealing some semblance of daylight. Over that grey vista, with no sunrise. Jefferson massaged his chest.
“The hell you yappin’ about, weirdo,” the chubby teen rummaged through his pockets, now inches from Jefferson’s face. “Give them shoes up now nigga or…”
“Twenty-five years,” Jefferson said flatly, his feet planted. “That’s what they gave him for what he did to Trey and them. Those white folks in court didn’t care about some silly retaliation. Street justice, I’m afraid, doesn’t hold up as a worthwhile defense, not that his public defender cared. He looked about your ages, sixteen, seventeen. Well, he looked every bit of it, when they dragged him away then started screaming for his momma.”
Cornrows growled like an angry little dog. His voice broke.
“I-I should gut you all over this roof, snitch ass nigga.”
His hands were still in his pockets, but those pockets shook. Indeed, a look of dread painted the other two boys faces. A queer chill, whether icy winds or muggy heat. What befell those that felt…him. The reason Jefferson was rubbing his chest.
“What …. what are you doing,” the chubby one yelped, his almond nut eyes skittling this way and that. “Stop it. Stop it right now, whatever you doin’!”
The skinny boys’ knees buckled. His gaze scouring the ground. Anywhere but at Jefferson. Yet all the latter did was glare. His curved eyelashes splayed out like n stretching fingers. With an expressionless gaze, arms limp.
“Yo…let’s get the hell up outta here.”
Cornrows scampered back, reaching behind for a door before racing out. His friends followed, tripping over themselves.
“Hey…y’all don’t want my shoes no more?”
Jefferson did all but sneer. Admiring his attempt at hood slang, a dialect he never adopted. The Misty Man found this laughable. With no words, he’d remind Jefferson he was still here. In the hood, with them. With all his wit, and proclivity to books, he was still here. His gaze narrowed when he saw the skinny one tumble down the scaffolding. Some hundred yards away, he could still hear them.
“Freak. Ain’t no tennis shoes worth …worth whatever the hell that thing was.”
“That nigga a psycho. See that dead look in his eyes? Freak.”
The remaining spittle in Jefferson’s mouth evaporated.
“I’m not a pussy…”
He glared through the mud-colored town houses. Frowning again. He wasn’t done with the exchange from the would be extorters. Their tremulousness, bubbling his rage. They could sense him. The Misty Man.
Packing up his telescope, he noticed his hands were moist. His long dark brown fingers trembled. He saw Cornrows cutting through the corner. His baby hairs outlining a face the color of the desert. That, thin, button like nose. An image of his own nose zipped into his mind. Along with an offhand remark Aunt Khadija, his only parental figure made about it. How it was quite wide for his head, but that this was masculine, somehow. The Misty Man always seemed to remind him of such moments. With no words. Jefferson’s private enemy, ever since he could remember. A voice, residing in his consciousness, hissing words of discouragement. Except Jefferson couldn’t actually hear anything. It was like a section of his brain had gone mutinous and hell bent on his demise. Jefferson read avidly, adhering the stars as much as he could. Anything to keep him at bay. Alas, it would only ward him off for a spell, until he reared back like some demonic shark. Jefferson always referred to it as a he because…. he had a personality.
Only in violent situations, when he fist fought, survived a crack fueled robbery, would others sense him.
Jefferson’s eyebrows came together as he shuttled down the rusted steps. He punted a deflated basketball down a sloping alley. Across 1st avenue and Jamaica, he paused. Only hours ago, he spied from the fourteenth floor the hustle and bustle. The nightlife he privately surveyed, but publicly condemned. Especially to his aunt’s son, Quentin. Perhaps the closest thing Jefferson could call a friend. A phantom of a smile pricked at him as he went. Eduardo peaked out of his bodega, scowling at him as he passed, muttering rapid Spanish.
Jefferson rummaged through his inner chest pocket, unearthing a grainy photo. It was of his father, a lazily handsome man with hazel eyes, beaming, and his mother’s face smudged out. Quentin would tease Jefferson about he and his father’s lack of resemblance.
“No offense bro… but, you sure that’s yo daddy?”
Two minutes from Turk’s pizzeria, Jefferson frowned at the memory. At times he’d wondered the same thing. He also wondered what his mother looked like. No one seemed to know what happed to that picture. Why only a white smudge remained of what should have been her face.
The flittering of pigeons and newspapers filled the air. A flightiness, with no wind, or discernable climate. The Misty Man sashayed out of his cave. Standing in a perfect black. Tittering.
Jefferson clenched his jaw. He imagined humiliating his cousin. Not unlike the three goons from earlier. After all, they he spoke just like them. Same Timberland boots. Same gangster bravado emphasized by slurred speech and abhorrent grammar. He glanced towards the smoky clouds. They seemed to glare back. A shadow wall.
The Misty Man giggled in the abyss of his mind. Besides himself in disdainful jest. From his cave.
Rattling his head, Jefferson pothered down an alley the locals recently christened the ‘Void’. In summers past, he had sought out its graffitied shade. But now the moniker seemed ominous. It seemed described the realm the Misty Man existed. As if suddenly transported to the heart of a black hole. Deep, deep space. Furthest away from humanity, the dark vestiges Jefferson sought out with star gazing. In brighter days, last year, when these cursed clouds didn’t obscure his view. When he felt closer to his dead NASA scientist parents.
submitted by Much_Mirror to fantasywriters [link] [comments]
2022.01.22 11:52 Nova_Amara I prefer Forza Horizon 4 over Forza Horizon 5
2022.01.22 11:52 themetahumancrusader *insert “I was threatened” meme*
2022.01.22 11:52 r4nd0m__U53R fun with the revengance katana
2022.01.22 11:52 Aaron_Castro1234 How do I fix this
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2022.01.22 11:52 TerceraVia ERC, Junts, la CUP i els comuns desencallen l’acord per impulsar una nova llei antidesnonaments
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2022.01.22 11:52 LegendofSki Two quick overlook legs to add to your parlays this NFL weekend. QB rushing
QB rushing is an overlooked addition to parlays that could yield some statistically likely wins. Two this weekend would be Stafford over 2.5 yds rushing, and Rodgers over 8.5 yds rushing. Why?
First off, as I understand, any time a QB scrambles past the line of scrimmage counts for rushing yds for the QB. Stafford last week had 20+ yds rushing and was at a 1.5 oveunder. He’s proven to have good legs and a good pocket presence. One rush past the line of scrimmage gives us a win.
Rodgers statistically also has been known as a rushing QB, especially on third downs. One or two rushes will give this win.
Why not Brady at 1.5? He’s hot and cold on scrambling. He averages 4 yds a game, but that is due to an outlier game. He has not run the past three games.
Josh Allen is high and so is Mahomes. I’m wary of taking the over on either, and will not risk the under.
The SF QB is 1.5 yds. Likely, yes. But if he goes out of the game early, which is likely as he is already injured, we have a loss.
In conclusion, add some legs to your parlays with more statistically likely plays and profit.
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