Interested in juicing but not in all the health stuff
2024.11.25 01:24 Player4Today Interested in juicing but not in all the health stuff
Just got myself a ninja juicer for Black Friday. Interested in giving it a go and have been looking up recipes. I'm finding a lot of weird health stuff. Tbh I have no interest in "superfoods" or cleansing my colon (ew) or boosting shots or whatever I just want to make drinks that taste good. What's the best TASTING stuff, goofy new age health jargon be damned.
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2024.11.25 01:24 youngsway_yt Trade
 | submitted by youngsway_yt to Monopoly_GO [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 arthath Oiled teak furniture is blotchy
 | Forgive me I am new to DIY. I recently purchased outdoor teak furniture and the salesman informed me that it would need to be sealed. I mistook this for treating it with furniture oil, which I purchased from a hardware store. I applied a thin layer of the oil with a brush (first mistake), then left it to dry for 12 hours without wiping the excess off (second mistake). I came back to find it a bit blotchy, and a quick google told me to apply another layer of oil and wipe excess off after 15 minutes; which I did. However now some of the portions look more blotchy. It’s not sticky to touch. What can I do to stop it being so blotchy and more uniform? Will it dry out and be more uniform? The oil I got was a feast Watson outdoor furniture oil in teak. Thanks in advance for your advice submitted by arthath to finishing [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 rj4467 Man I just can’t seem to find the moose either
 | submitted by rj4467 to PlanetZoo [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 Whisperwaalker Tattoo with dmt
Do you think it’s safe to mix deem powder into tattoo ink?
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2024.11.25 01:24 DatFunkydude2010 My first time drawing FPE characters: wave ∆
 | ∆iden is going to offer a mysterious figure some food, but it seems that the figure didn't show up with empty flippers submitted by DatFunkydude2010 to FundamentalPaperEdu [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 Ok-Birthday3474 How to deal with parent who never respects my boundaries?
I have a very strained relationship with my mom. For my entire life, she has lectured me nonstop. I moved out when I was 18, but Id go home every few months to see my pet and dad (who is sick). Within 2 minutes of arriving there, she will be following me around room to room lecturing me about how i should be doing XYZ, criticizing the way i look, etc. Nothing works to make her stop (politely telling her, angrily telling her, escalating things). I get so fed up that I only stay for <1 hour before storming out. Then she will mass text me 20-50 text messages (which I try to ignore). To provide a few examples of why ive keep my distance from her: she blamed me for being the problem when my ex cheated and was abusive, blamed me for not being submissive to it, and i found out she was secretly texting my ex several months after we broke up. Felt very betrayed. More recently she mass texted my current bf throughout the night (20+ texts in paragraphs). I blocked my mom's #, and she is now texting me through my dad's phone (and now I cannot get in contact with my dad bc she has his phone). My dad is old and barely knows how to use an iphone. I don't want to block my dad's # incase he has a health issue, but i cannot take it anymore. Long story short, she has NEVER and will never respect my boundaries. Never takes me seriously when I ask her to stop. Does anyone have any advice in this situation? Not sure if police can do anything as she hasn't harmed me (physically) or committed a crime. However, I do feel that if law enforcement warned her she would take it more seriously.
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2024.11.25 01:24 dkljaal Can someone explain how BC and Liandry work
 | Like the title says can someone explain the tech behind bc and liandry, I know ghouls and maiden proc laundry but do they proc bc too? When should I go bc/lidanry vs tri/serylda? Did a full day of bc with liandry and I really liked how tanky I was while still able to put out damage. submitted by dkljaal to yorickmains [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 mayormcheese1 I know what happened to Ashmont
For the past week, I’ve been one of many detectives assigned to the case in Ashmont, South Carolina. A small, quiet town with a population of exactly 5,147, or at least that’s what the road sign used to say. Now, it’s a ghost town—every last soul gone without a trace, as if they’d vanished into thin air. The police department was at a loss, and state authorities were scratching their heads. So they brought us in, hoping a few fresh eyes might uncover what they’d missed. At first, I’d convinced myself this would be another dead-end case, something that would baffle us for a while, and then we’d all be called away to more “pressing” matters. But that was before I found the journal. It was stashed under the floorboards of the Twist family’s farmhouse, concealed like a hidden treasure. I remember dusting off the cover, noting the rough, calloused handwriting etched deeply into the paper. A journal kept by Jack Twist, the local farmer, his wife Maria, and their children, Ethan and Jessica. Reading it felt strange, invasive even, like I was peeking into his life through a veil that was too thin. But I had to know. I had to understand what happened here, no matter how strange or impossible the story might seem. “Go ahead, tell me why everyone vanished,” I whispered to the empty farmhouse as I opened the journal, flipping to the first date that caught my eye. The words seemed innocent enough, the daily thoughts of a farmer who’d lived the same routine for decades. But there was a subtle tension—an unease threading through his words, hidden in the margins. Journal of Jack Twist – April 21 I woke up at six a.m., just like every other day. Had flapjacks for breakfast, coffee on the side. Syrup was thick and sweet, just how I like it. Got me thinking it’d be even better with chocolate chips, though. Maybe I’ll surprise the kids with some tomorrow. That thought was enough to get my mouth watering. I can picture him—Jack, a man who worked with his hands, his life defined by the rhythm of planting and harvesting, season after season. I imagine him at the breakfast table, savoring a simple pleasure, his mind half on his family, half on the long day ahead. By six-thirty, I was out in the fields, preparing the soil. Spread some fertilizer and mixed in the compost. Maria joined me after she got the kids off to school. She’s got a good hand for this work, that woman. Always knows just how much to give to the earth to make it yield what we need. In his words, I could hear his admiration for Maria. Not the sentimental kind, but the practical, respectful admiration of a man who knew his wife’s worth in a quiet, unspoken way. A family bound not just by love, but by work, by shared purpose. By seven, the kids were off, and Maria was at my side in the field. We finished prepping the soil by seven forty-five and took a well-deserved break, sipping water and looking over our work. There’s something comforting in the pattern of the rows, each line straight and true. I paused, picturing the neat rows stretching out across the farmland. There was a rhythm to his life, a sense of order. But life in a place like Ashmont was often quiet and simple, right until it wasn’t. Around nine, we started planting—corn, soybeans, a few other vegetables. Just enough to keep us through the season and maybe sell a bit extra at the market come harvest. By noon, we stopped for lunch. I had a salad, though I’ll be honest, it wasn’t as good as Maria’s cooking. But work doesn’t wait, and soon we were back to it. He wrote with a blunt simplicity, a straightforwardness that felt like him. No pretension, no drama—just a farmer doing his job. I admired the way he took pride in his work, though he didn’t exactly say so. We fed the animals after lunch, kept an eye out for any pests and weeds that might creep in. Spent the rest of the afternoon moving from one chore to the next, checking on each crop, every animal, till it was eight in the evening. Then came the first sign of something out of place. My eyes widened as I read his next words. When I went outside after dinner, I saw something strange. Lights in the sky. Bright, almost too bright, moving fast—faster than anything I’ve ever seen. Too close to be a shooting star. At first, I thought maybe it was some military aircraft, though I’ve never seen one come this close to the fields. I could picture him, standing in the cool night air, the warm glow of the farmhouse behind him, staring up into the darkening sky as those strange lights passed overhead. It must have felt like an omen, a signal that something was coming, though he couldn’t know what. After that, I didn’t think too much about it. Just went to bed like always. I closed the journal, leaning back in my chair. It was just an ordinary day on the surface, but beneath the routine, there was a tension building—a feeling that things were about to go very wrong. Jack’s words were plain, unembellished, but they carried weight, a creeping unease that was beginning to settle over me. Back in the farmhouse, I took a deep breath, glancing around the empty rooms. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. It was silly, of course, but the sense of abandonment here was overpowering. This had been a family’s home, filled with life, warmth, laughter. Now it was nothing but hollow silence. “What did you see, Jack?” I murmured, running my hand over the rough wood of the table, imagining Jack and Maria sitting here with their children, talking over breakfast, planning their day. The empty town, the silence, the mystery—it was unsettling in a way I couldn’t put into words. The journal continued, its pages now feeling heavier in my hands, as if they held secrets that were waiting to burst out. Jack Twist’s words from April 22 left me with a chill that I couldn’t quite shake. His life had followed a strict rhythm, like clockwork. But these entries were different—raw, scattered, his words grasping for something beyond his understanding. I flipped to April 22 and began to read. Journal of Jack Twist – April 22 Tonight something very weird happened. I saw something tall, human-like, skinny, just standing there in the dark outside. It made strange noises, like nothing I’d ever heard, something almost animal, yet more… calculated. I only got a glimpse, though. When I stepped out for a closer look, it was gone. Very, very strange. The image of Jack standing on his porch, the night wrapped around him like a heavy blanket, took shape in my mind. I could almost feel his unease—the way his pulse must have quickened as he strained to make out that figure in the dark, watching his every move. It was more than just an intruder; he described it with the kind of dread that seemed to go beyond logic. Why would someone—something—come all the way out here, in the dead of night, just to disappear the second he came near? The thought gnawed at me. This was more than a routine break-in. Whatever it was, Jack had sensed that this visitor wasn’t of the usual sort. Journal of Jack Twist – April 23 Today was strange, too. Got up at six a.m., had eggs and bacon with some coffee. The usual. By seven-thirty, I decided to head into town. I needed a few supplies, and, well… I figured I ought to tell someone about what I saw last night. Jack didn’t say much here, but I could feel his reluctance. In small towns like this, everyone knew each other’s business. To step out of line, to admit you’d seen something “strange,” was almost like asking for trouble. I could imagine him rehearsing his words on the drive, carefully choosing each phrase to sound reasonable. When I got to the police station, I told the officer, “Someone was on my property last night. Tall, skinny, and that’s all I could make out in the dark.” It must have taken him a while to get those words out, each syllable feeling heavier than the last, his mind racing with the memory of that figure in the shadows. I could picture the officer looking up, surprised but trying to keep his expression neutral. The officer nodded, and his response caught me off guard. “It’s strange,” he said, “we’ve been getting a lot of reports about people like that—tall, skinny, trespassing on properties around town. But we can’t figure out who they are.” The conversation must have left a pit in Jack’s stomach. He hadn’t been the only one to see this figure—or figures. Whatever was happening wasn’t isolated to his farm. There was an undercurrent, a creeping pattern that was starting to emerge, and yet nobody seemed able to make sense of it. After that, I left the station and headed to the store for supplies. Just before I walked in, I noticed the community board by the door, covered in missing persons posters. It was strange—too many faces looking back at me, too many families with no answers. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was all connected. Jack’s words were casual on the surface, but they hinted at something darker. Missing people in Ashmont wasn’t unheard of—sometimes people got into bad situations, fell on hard times, or even chose to leave. But this many, all at once? And now the reports of figures moving around the town at night, silent shadows with no clear intention? I closed the journal and sat back in my chair, tapping my fingers against the table. This case had gone from strange to unsettling in a way I hadn’t quite anticipated. There was a pattern here, a thread that tied everything together, though it was frayed and barely visible. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Jack had seen something that no one was supposed to see. And whatever it was, it wasn’t done with him yet. Standing alone in the Twists’ farmhouse, I looked around, half expecting one of those tall, dark figures to be lurking in the shadows. The silence was so thick it felt oppressive, as if the whole house were holding its breath, waiting. Outside, the fields stretched out under a gray sky, the crops waving gently in the breeze, indifferent to the troubles brewing around them. “What were you thinking, Jack?” I murmured, almost hoping for an answer. The journal was my only connection to his world now, each page a glimpse into his mind as the events of Ashmont began to spiral out of control. And I had the sinking feeling that, in the coming days, Jack’s accounts would only get stranger.
Chapter Three Jack’s journal for April 24 had a new sense of urgency, a kind of dread that only seemed to grow with each sentence. I could feel his frustration, his helplessness as he tried to make sense of a town that was slowly slipping out of his control. I began to read, feeling the weight of each word as he grappled with the realization that something was very wrong. Journal of Jack Twist – April 24 I thought yesterday was strange, but today… today was different. I woke up at six a.m., like usual. First thing I noticed was the darkness—thicker than normal, like it was pressing down on the house. I went to flip on the lights, but nothing happened. Tried again, thinking maybe I’d just missed the switch in the dark. But no, it wasn’t me—the power was out. Jack must have felt a prickle of unease then, even if he didn’t say it. A simple power outage would have been one thing, but out here, without lights, the familiar farmhouse must have felt different, almost hostile. So, I figured, alright, I’ll go turn on the generator. That should get things back to normal. But when I tried it… nothing. Not even a hum. I pictured him standing there, in the dim morning light, a flashlight clutched in one hand as he went to inspect the generator. Jack was a man who understood machines, who could usually find the problem and fix it. But this? This was something he hadn’t anticipated. Then it got weirder. I pulled out my flashlight, clicked it on, and… nothing. Just dead. The frustration in his words was clear, and I could almost feel his hands tightening around the useless flashlight, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it. It wasn’t just the power in the house. Nothing with a battery, nothing electric, was working. Not even his car. Not even the damn car would start. I tried a few times, just in case. Even hit the hood, as if that would do something, anything. But the engine just sat there, silent, not even trying to turn over. Nothing was working, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a regular power outage. There was no damage, no storm, nothing to explain it. So how? Jack’s mind was analytical; he wanted answers. But what do you do when you can’t even guess the question? That was the feeling he was wrestling with now, the unsettling realization that he might be in over his head. I knew what I had to do. Had to get into town, see if anyone else was dealing with the same thing. So I grabbed an apple and a protein bar, the kind of breakfast you eat when you’re in a hurry and don’t have time to think about it. And then, well… I hopped on my old bike. Hadn’t ridden that thing in ages, but with the car out, I didn’t have much of a choice. I could picture him pedaling down the empty roads, the farmhouses he passed equally quiet, almost abandoned-looking without any signs of life or light. It must have felt eerie, his familiar world transformed into something strange and silent. When I finally got into town, it was as if the whole place was holding its breath. The streets were empty, people huddled in small groups, all whispering to each other, their faces tight with worry. I spotted John and went over. “Hey, what’s happening?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. I could imagine the look on John’s face, the uncertainty there, as he glanced back and shook his head. “We don’t know,” he replied, his voice low, almost as if he were afraid to say it any louder. “How is this even possible?” I asked, though I already knew John didn’t have an answer. “I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t be,” he said. And that was when the mayor stepped up, calling for everyone’s attention. In his description of the mayor’s announcement, I could hear the disbelief and fear mounting in the crowd. There was a growing sense of urgency, of people searching for someone to blame, or something to hold onto. But the idea of riding fifty miles to the next town, of having to rely on bikes and foot travel just to get help, was almost absurd. The mayor spoke up, his voice trembling just a little, though he tried to keep it steady. “It seems the radios aren’t working, either. No way to contact anyone. Our only choice, if we want help, is to ride out to the nearest town.” I pictured the townsfolk, murmuring anxiously to each other, a few gasping when someone reminded them how far the nearest town was. For most people in Ashmont, that fifty miles might as well have been an ocean. Someone in the crowd yelled out, “The closest town is over fifty miles away!” The hopelessness in Jack’s words here felt almost contagious, as if the entire town was sinking under the weight of a problem they couldn’t even define. What could they do, really? Who would volunteer to make that journey with no guarantee they’d come back with answers? A small group finally stepped forward, determined to make the trip in the morning. Chris, one of the volunteers, turned to me and asked, “Wait, don’t you have any horses, Jack?” I could picture the forced, hopeful smile on Chris’s face, the faint glimmer of optimism, as if a horse might make all the difference. I shook my head. “No, sorry. Only livestock I’ve got are cows and chickens.” Jack’s words felt hollow. There wasn’t much comfort to be had in a situation like this. He watched as the group gathered what little supplies they could manage, while he headed back to his bike and began the ride home. I could imagine him pedaling down that empty road again, his thoughts swirling with unanswered questions, each one more unsettling than the last. When I got back, I told Maria and the kids about the plan. “Tomorrow, we’ll head into town. We’ll stay at a hotel until the power comes back on.” I tried to sound confident, like this was just a temporary inconvenience. But there was an edge to his words, a hint of desperation. Jack was trying to reassure his family, but he couldn’t even reassure himself. He must have felt it, that creeping sense of dread as he fed the animals, noting how quiet they were, as if even they sensed something was wrong. As I finished up the chores, it hit me that the fridge wasn’t working, either. And I couldn’t help but think—if all this food goes bad, I’m going to be furious. Just one more damn thing to worry about. There was an almost resigned tone in those last words, as if Jack had no choice but to laugh bitterly at the absurdity of it all. He’d been preparing for this new season, planting crops, making plans, only to have everything thrown into disarray by something he couldn’t even understand. The feeling of isolation hung heavy in the air as I finished reading. The situation was spiraling out of control, and Jack’s voice reflected a mix of anger and fear as he clung to the normal routines of his life, even as they were slipping through his fingers. The small-town world he knew was changing, becoming something unfamiliar and dangerous, and he was powerless to stop it. I closed the journal and stared at the empty fields outside the window, imagining them under the heavy, unnatural darkness that Jack had described. The silence around me felt more oppressive than ever, as if something were waiting, just out of sight.
Chapter Four This final entry from Jack Twist’s journal was perhaps the most chilling thing I’d read since I’d arrived in Ashmont. The desperation in his words, the panic, the sense of inevitable doom—it all made the hairs on my arms stand up. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Jack writing those words, alone and frightened, knowing he’d likely never leave that town alive. Journal of Jack Twist – April 25 Nothing much happened today. The group left on their bikes, and I can only hope they’ll return tomorrow with help. Maria, the kids, and I spent the day in the hotel, watching the hours tick by. The water’s out too, so we’re drinking from water bottles. Another problem we don’t have a solution for.
Jack’s frustration felt almost tangible here, as if he were forcing himself to stay calm despite knowing that everything around him was falling apart. Journal of Jack Twist – April 26 They didn’t come back today. I keep telling myself it’s probably just slow going, maybe they’re camping out for the night somewhere along the way. Still… something doesn’t feel right. Journal of Jack Twist – April 27 Another day, and still no sign of the group. People are starting to get nervous—supplies are running low, and the mayor’s been pacing around like he’s got some sort of plan, but none of us believe him. The town’s starting to feel different, like it’s… shrinking. Journal of Jack Twist – April 28
This was the last entry. Jack’s handwriting was shaky, as if his hands had been trembling as he wrote. I took a breath and continued reading.
If someone finds this journal, please believe me. Please. I know how this must sound, but I have to tell the truth. I went outside this morning, looking for news, hoping to hear that maybe the group had finally made it back. But instead, all I found was frustration, people shouting and pacing, arguing over what little food we had left. And then, suddenly, one of the radios turned on.
Jack’s words were almost frantic here, his sentences choppy, as if he were reliving the moment as he wrote.
It started with static, just a hiss that filled the room, but then we heard something else. The sound. The same horrible noise from the other night. It was like… like nothing I’d ever heard before, some sort of garbled language, or maybe just noise, but it made my skin crawl. Everyone in the room just froze. We didn’t speak; we didn’t even breathe. The sound went on for five minutes—five long, horrible minutes—before it cut off again, leaving us in a silence that felt too heavy to bear. In the afternoon, things took a turn for the worse. Chris came back. He was alone, staggering into town, and he looked… broken. He wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, and he was bleeding. His face was pale, his eyes vacant, like he was somewhere far away. He was muttering, mumbling words none of us could make out, and he looked so hollow, like something had taken every ounce of life out of him.
Jack’s description of Chris painted a haunting picture. I could see him standing there, barely recognizable, his face a twisted mask of pain and confusion. I continued reading, captivated by Jack’s raw fear.
John ran over to him, trying to get some answers. “Oh my God, Chris—what happened to you?!” he asked, his voice trembling. But Chris just kept muttering, as if he couldn’t even see John. His lips were cracked, his hands shaking. Half of his fingers were missing, and so were his teeth. The doctor finally came over and led him away, but none of us knew what to do. None of us knew what could have done that to a man. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing things outside—whispers, maybe, or footsteps, I wasn’t sure. But then… then I heard it. A loud hum, like a plane, but lower, heavier. I looked out the window, and what I saw…
I felt Jack’s terror here as if I were there myself, staring out into the night.
It was a UFO. Just floating there, silent, like it was waiting for something. I thought maybe I was dreaming, but then I saw the others coming out of their houses, one by one, drawn to the light. We all just stood there, staring up at it, until the doors of the ship opened. What came out of that thing… they weren’t human. They made that same horrible noise we’d heard on the radio, a language that scraped against my mind. Jeff, the town’s mechanic, was the first to step forward, his fists clenched. “Hey! We don’t know what you’re saying,” he yelled, his voice bold. “So either start speaking English, or I’ll kick your ass!” One of them moved toward Jeff, fast, reaching out with a hand that looked more like a claw. It grabbed him and pulled him into the ship, just like that. He didn’t scream. He didn’t even struggle. It was like he was in a trance. And then his son, ran forward with a knife, screaming. He stabbed one of the creatures, and when he pulled the knife out… there was no blood. Nothing. The creature didn’t even flinch. One of them took out a device—a metal rod, sleek and strange. It touched Will with it, just for a second, and he… he melted. Just collapsed into a puddle right there on the ground. They scooped him up and put what was left of him into a jar, like he was nothing more than a specimen. People started screaming, running in every direction, and I did too. I ran, as fast as I could, leaving behind everything—my family, my friends, my home. I don’t know why. I just knew I had to get away. I looked back once, and I could see buildings collapsing, the sky filled with smoke. The screams… I can still hear them. I don’t know how long I ran, but I ended up here, hiding, hoping they won’t find me. I know it’s only a matter of time before they do. I’m leaving this journal here. If anyone finds it, please… tell my story. Tell them what happened here. Love, Jack Twist. I sat back, the weight of Jack’s words pressing down on me. Could this really be what happened in Ashmont? The rational part of me wanted to dismiss it, to chalk it up to psychosis, to fear, to anything but the truth. But as I looked out over the empty town, the eerie silence felt heavier, as if the truth of Jack’s story lingered in the air, in the empty streets, in the abandoned buildings. There was no evidence of an earthquake. No signs of a mass exodus, of struggle, of anything that could explain the disappearance of 5,147 people. Nothing but Jack’s journal. And that might just be the most terrifying part of all.
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2024.11.25 01:24 4LanReddit Who was worse to face in hordes on high rounds; Sturmkriegers or Manglers?
 | submitted by 4LanReddit to CODZombies [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 SuperBacon_16 What do y’all for the rest of the season
Do you think we should start “tanking” at this point for a better draft pick and who do you think we would pick up with it, or do you think we should kept tryin to win to somewhat prove we aren’t the worst.
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2024.11.25 01:24 inkypig What is this?
This post contains content not supported on old Reddit. Click here to view the full post
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2024.11.25 01:24 T_Orr230 Losssssss with lots of it on FFIE
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2024.11.25 01:24 Snoo11589 These “cloth” hangers
 | submitted by Snoo11589 to accidentalswastika [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 Longjumping_Ad_2928 Bahamut and Metallic Dragons
All you DnD players will know of the metallic dragons and how they have shaped the universe of DnD.
This video looks into their leader and their mystery
https://youtu.be/C47j3fW9NlM?si=oDXx_spaKORXvvqk
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2024.11.25 01:24 Noahseptum Reassurance from boyfriend- i feel like im ruining our relationship
Hi y’all, recently I’ve really been struggling with needing reassurance from by boyfriend. We’re currently long distance and it’s really not helping. I ask him for reassurance directly and he says it’s more than okay, and it’s not a burden that i need reassurance. However, i feel like it is a burden, and i feel like asking for his reassurance is unhealthy, and i should just take his word that everything is okay. I feel like shit for asking for reassurance, and i feel like im suffocating him.
I would love suggestions on how to effectively reassure myself.
Also if he says it’s okay that i need reassurance, is it okay? Should i feel this shitty over it?
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2024.11.25 01:24 walooeegee 5.2 “The Finishing Touch?” Achievement Glitch??
Not sure is it’s just me, but I’ve completed all of the required quests (Mural of the Legendary Heroes, Sea of Mystery, and the Pale Mist by the Masters of the Night-Wind Settlement) and when I go to sit at the graffiti, I’m just prompted to listen to the quest hints again. Am I doing something wrong? This is my second to last achievement to clear and I’m wondering if I’m missing something here
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2024.11.25 01:24 cameronhgm I started my personal profile and now it wont work, its not loading I am able to exit, will I be able to complete later or what should I do?? I am very confused and stressed rn
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2024.11.25 01:24 Neither-Drummer7005 If there’s any kind people out there to lend me $20 it would help out!
Feel free to message me
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2024.11.25 01:24 semprommmm ¿Que vinos recomiendan?
Estoy abriendo un almacén de bebidas y me gustaría que me recomienden vinos que no me pueden faltar (de cualquier variedad y precio 😃)
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2024.11.25 01:24 YanniRotten Alfred Eisenstaedt, Douaumont Ossuary, 1964. By the way photographer served during WW1
 | submitted by YanniRotten to SmorgasbordBizarre [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 Exciting_Penalty_211 is there a mod that allows me to aim my melee swings?
with my battle ax in third person I swing and miss constantly due to height differences caused by stairs, hills, or the enemy is just that short. is there a mod that tilts my attacks based on where I'm looking or something similar?
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2024.11.25 01:24 Atheril ITDW
 | submitted by Atheril to CafeNikki [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 Faolon12 Weird offset? Would love help
 | I’ve had this before, and completely forgot about it as all other prints were short, but at about 4 inches is starts doing this, it’s every print. submitted by Faolon12 to 3Dprinting [link] [comments] |
2024.11.25 01:24 kagger123 I need help 26 m
So I have phimosis but I see that a lot of people recommend like steroids or manual stretching. Is there someone who can actually help me by showing me how to do the manual stretching and where it’s best to apply the steroid.
submitted by kagger123 to Phimosishelp [link] [comments]