Respray costs
2025.01.18 19:33 ibegya Respray costs
Hi Folks. Have a T5 Transporter and looking at maybe getting it resprayed. No colour change. Body could be described as decent builders van. I know there's gonna be a range of numbers. Any ideas of cost? Any recommendations? Wouldn't mind travelling for the right set up. Midlands based.
submitted by ibegya to carsireland [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 TheAndymanCan1972 AAPE+ (a+ × ape)
 | submitted by TheAndymanCan1972 to psilocybingrowers [link] [comments] |
2025.01.18 19:33 Solomon-Drowne [COMPLETE][93k][Active-Collapse Speculative Fiction] 'an UNASSEMBLED VERSE'
/a witchpunk fable set in a time of collapse/
Looking for review swap; I need someone to read this thing and share their thoughts. More detailed analysis is appreciated and can be provided in turn. But mainly Im trying to get another pair of eyes on it. Format will likely be .PDF, if that's not an issue. If you are a fan of Dante/la Commedia, that will be of particular benefit.
Intro excerpt as follows: ---- i. Finding myself at the interval of my obscured existence, I became made aware–all at once! that I had been, until that very point, imprisoned unknowingly…[[1]](#_ftn1)
In labyrinths of stone and iron, the Witches by the Waters sang their secret songs. [They sang in the ways handed down to them]() – from Composers unseen – and their vocation was one of the greatest importance imaginable. For every Witch was entrusted with the notes assigned to their care, beginning at earliest Induction, and continuing, without rest, until the death that awaits one and all. These notes, memorized and recited with sacred duty, when sung together, formed the Unassembled Verse.
Among those who sang (who were many, and various, and hailed from all walks of life), there was one who stood apart. Her name was Artemis Grant, and she was blessed with a voice of exceptional beauty and grace.
By age she was twenty-four years, with eleven of those years spent in service of the Verse; and for that complete term, she had mastered anything assigned to her, as well as most everything assigned in adjacent columns, rotated and revolved[\2])](#_ftn2).
Despite this undeniable talent – or perhaps because of it – she found herself increasingly troubled, by a persisting echo, that she first noticed sometime around the autumn equinox, when all the leaves on campus trees, those that survived the scorch, began turning brittle, when the mornings slumped under relentless humidity. It began as little more than distant reverb, heard in that formless time between waking and sleep, when she would pull a pillow over her head and flip it endlessly, long limbs tangled in sheets that she fussed over while tossing and turning.
These phantom chords grew more insistent with every new sun, and they pressed against her head, right behind her pale green eyes – so pale they bordered on gray – where the echoes danced and spiraled in time with each beat of her heart. And then there was the ache that had settled at the back of her throat. Sometimes it became difficult to swallow – esophagus throbbing, tongue catching like a dried-up wad of cloth. Maybe could be the ‘rona. But I’m not feverish, so no need to isolate, she argued, in convincing herself of the assuredly trivial nature of whatever it was.
Her dreams became ominous. She dreamt that she was trapped inside an endless concrete mausoleum, searching desperately for something – she did not know what – only to become ever more lost in levels lightless and stinking of diesel... and she dreamt of unnatural beasts, piled up into towering, nightmarish forms, their contorted bodies merging until the monstrous thing stood impossibly tall, swaying and trumpeting in agony, and then falling—
Corridors twisted beneath her feet as she made her way to the Acoustarian Sonorium, where the days performance was scheduled to commence. The seven-sided chamber rose before her, its steep-slanted seats filled with occluded forms that floated like motes in the gathering gloom – spectral advisors and veiled specialists whose attention bore down with an impossible weight. An intensely clamorous crescendo echoed all throughout, the sound of it like mighty bells tolling to announce the marriage of an antiquarian queen.
Her voice rang aloud: Artemis Grant, alone at ignition! 741 hertz! The words felt foreign, despite their overly familiar form. Dawnstrike Arpeggio! From generative sequence!
A holographic circumference manifested into shimmering radians at her feet, and she stepped into its encompassing center:
Then she sang, in her fearless way, until the harmonics began their orderly collapse, each note in the tetrachord merging and phasing, growing wider, fatter, more luminous. Rising and falling sequences entangled into a single roaring harmony lifting her upwards from the ground. She began to fly, in the way she had always known she would, ascending into a whirlwind, ten toes twirling...
She is the Recitalist, the Witch, the Verse Wielding.
She is the Anomaly.
Artemis awoke later than usual, to mid-morning sun hot upon her face. Her throat burned with every gasped breath, and she rushed to gulp water from the reservoir basin in the wash closet. Then she retched and vomited into the commode.
Less than ideal, she thought.
A glance at the chronotock over the spare dining table set her heart to skip: quarter-to-ten, or close to it. Sliding into the Imminence sixth, to use the new civil reckoning. Or ‘antemeridianum tempus’, the rusty Latin she once struggled with now proven useless against an overwhelming panic…
Her recital was at noon!
She showered quickly, compelled as much by her meager water allocations as by tardiness; then a glass pipette yammed beneath her tongue – ninety-six degrees, bang on as could be! Followed by a chaotic raid of the solarium’s medical cart, where she found an expired paracetamol & methylene tincture; eye clenched, she downed the liquid, the burn of it so unpleasant she dry-gagged.
Woozy and wobbling, she inspected the attire hung meticulously across her chamber entry: black kelp brocade overcoat with crimson fox-fur trim, slate-gray bamboo jersey pants, a silver-and-twill shirt. The Lavaterium[\3])](#_ftn3) had done its usual mediocre job, leaving baking soda crusted on leather and an accursed soap-nut film coating her Recital Best.
“Those zamned fools!” she fumed, cranking up the basin heat. Steam rose in spirals, dancing in time to the phantom harmonies in her head. She wrung each piece of clothing to half-dry and threw them onto the electrocaloric heat-pump. The pants she beat against a scouring rock in the communal solarium, where Pozole, the sunfox[\4])](#_ftn4) assigned to their dormitory cluster, rushed from beneath the courtyard oak to curl around her legs.
“Not now, Pozo,” she cooed, a quick hand offered to lick. There was a pang, of something strange and hard to place, like a memory misplaced and found again unexpectedly: the same sun angle, the same whining squeaks from Pozole, and the same gut-roiling unpleasantness from the tincture. Inside, she checked the chronotock again… nested circumferences within the steady march of outer hashmarks. Late, late, late!
She dressed efficiently: quartz pendant on a silver chain, wireline ID tucked beneath beaded bracelet, bioluminescent lace gloves, stockings and damp pants drawn firm, boots buckled. Then the kinetic audio engine – an intricate gearwork contraption – that she threaded onto a beltstrap. It would capture today’s performance on an old PROM[\5])](#_ftn5) cartridge; poor sound quality, but good enough for an after-action review.
Wary of her unsettled stomach and the creeping heat, she replaced the heavy coat with a light green traveler’s cloak. A brief panic, then she found her satchel and dug out a cloth mask. Most importantly – the hat! A wide-brimmed affair, black with a green, fluorescent sheen and silver fringe, tapering to a modestly precise point.
Her Instructor had begged her not to wear the hat. You know how the Doctor detests all the witch stuff, but Artemis thought the request unreasonable. ‘It is empowering!’ was her rebuttal. ‘And besides, the hat is perfectly within code[\6])](#_ftn6). Nothing wrong with a little witchyness,’ was the way she saw it. And hers was an undeniably fashionable look, increasingly popular with her fellow Witches. Officially, they were known as Recitalists. Which was a buggo term, she thought. Recitalist. So stuffy. Just show up and repeat those notes! No kinda styling! The Verse is not interpretive! If all they wanted was a stochastic parrot, well, why not just play out a recording captured on a gearwork? Pshhaw…
Such were the brilliant young woman’s thoughts as she raced through the solarium, pausing for Pozo to playfully gnaw at her thumb, before dashing down the narrow hall to the forum, then into the gardened pathways of the Outer Perimeter, by footfalls made to race against the cries of distant carillons and wailing minarets.
ii. [M]y guide led me from stillness into resonance, through atmospheres that trembled with possibility, into chambers where even light hesitated at threshold...[[7]](#_ftn7) The Witch pulled her broad hat low over bleary eyes and stumbled to the iron-wrought gate, struggling beneath the sun’s stern heat. She nearly missed the soldier standing stone still at guard.
“It appears this day is much improved! Missus Artemis Grant, the very picture of grace, as always.” The soldier’s garrulousness was bound up in an unmistakable southerly drawl, and his blue eyes flashed in angled sun.. “Such a strong drink, to quench a morning been dull as dishwater.”
“Mr. Holliday!” she exclaimed.
She knew the soldier’s surname, sewn into a patch on his chest; just as she knew his given name – Johnathon Henry – but only because he insisted she be made aware of it. In truth she tended to a dislike of the grim-faced soldiers who prowled Project borders, toting rifles tall as smokestacks in their drab camouflage uniforms. But this one had become... familiar, to her. He was notably short, for one. And friendly, in an odd way, for another.
“Scan me up, cowboy,” she added, with a flash of her wristbound identification.
“Regrets, ma’am, but Joint Command insists on ah’ elevated protocol. On account ah’ all th’ [devils]()[[CC2]](#_msocom_2) beset an’ befallen our once fair town square.”
He means the rioting and fighting downtown, is how she took it, as she reeled out the wire-line from its bracelet clasp. She handed off the credentials, muttered thanks as he made a carbon-paper copy in his snapbook, and hurried on her way. Behind her, she caught fragments of Italian spoken aloud – poetry, half-recognized, but the notes in her head had grown too insistent to focus on much of anything.
She went in hurried steps that threatened to break out into a sprint, through vine-wreathed halls ensconced within gleaming metal braids, the scent of damp earth and foliage mingling to the ever-present hum and hiss of unseen pipes and wiring; birds flitted through airy eaves, where morning glories still clung to iron latticework, their purple blooms opening and closing in time with the pressure building behind her eyes, and the wilting vinery that tangled through it all resolving into unsettled patterns…
The Sonorium appeared, rising over garden plazas and shaped hedgery: four walls of weathered stone stretching to a belltower; atop that, a seven-sided addition of steel construction – more recently added – that terminated to a glass-face penthouse at very top. As she approached the performer’s entrance, an eerie familiarity tugged at her consciousness. She descended steps, to a moat dug into ground that surrounded the tower; again, that unplaceable feeling, important and vital and then gone, like dawn fog beneath a rising sun.
“Maybe was dreaming about it…” she whispered, shaking her head. “Never felt nervous about going on stage like this – first time for everything, I guess.”
Restless chatter quieted to urgent whispers as Artemis lurched into the quadrilateral tower from a hidden passage, emerging at the stage’s dimly-lit edge. Her Instructor was there waiting, in the wings. She raced to her student, taking the Recitalist in both hands to scan the young woman’s face. “Thank the stars, I was beginning to—” She stopped, studying her student carefully. “Are you alright?”
Artemis yanked the mask free from her perspiring face. “Just a touch warm, feels like a head cold. Downed some tincture about an hour ago. I will be fine, really,” she said, trying to ignore the pulsing colors crowding her head anytime she closed her eyes.
Tilting the witchy hat aside, the older woman pressed the back of her hand to the student’s forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”
This concern was an unwelcome intrusion, and Artemis ducked the maternal gesture, to reach for her stylus. “I am fine,” she insisted. Irises reflected flickering glow-lights as she scanned the curling sheets tacked to the slate, glowering at the dense red-line revisions that crowded each page like bramblebush. “What is all this?!”
“Sundown variant. Last second deal, hand-delivered by the Doctor.” A gentle hand sought to steady the nervous student. “You good to go?”
“These arrangements—“ Artemis smacked the pages. “The Committee can’t drop new progressions on us without warning like this!”
Her instructor – foremost of the Teaching Cohort, the most accomplished tutor given the most gifted pupil – laughed, the sound of it like fat droplets tapping against a tin-scrap flat-roof; ‘plink-tink-pl’tink’. Then she said, “They can, and they did. They want the variant up front. From ignition.”
Artemis stared at the notations, watching as symbols writhed across the page, her anger threatening to overspill. “What is it about though?” The question came out rawer than intended, desperate and pleading. “We have been at this for so long! Nobody will tell me why we are doing this, and now they won’t even tell me what I’m supposed to be performing until I show up!”
The Instructor ran an audio line from the audio engineer to an in-ear monitor. “You were supposed to be here two hours ago, sweetheart. For warm-up.”
A tangle of ghost-wisp hair fell over Artemis’s face, and she blew at it, tucked it into her hat. “No hours, two hours, protocol’s say we get two weeks minimum if they want a variant validated.” She pulled the earpiece out and let it hang defiantly, as was her custom. “C’mon, Chani. Give me something to work with here. What am I supposed to be singing about?”
The Instructor inspected the young woman beside her. “My ma always said to me, that our fate is fixed, so why worry about the design? Just focus on what you can control.” There was a moment, of not knowing what to say. “Sodo thayo[[8]](#_ftn8)! Why don’t you tell me what you think it is about. And I’ll tell you, hot or cold, how close you are to what I think.”
Artemis’s face lit up, a radiant smile cresting to mote-spackled cheeks.
“What do I think? Ha! Okay, well, I think it must be something grand! Like a play, perhaps. Or...” She traced one of the thorny red lines with a gloved finger, following its strange curvature. “Or maybe it’s an epic chronicle, one that will explain why things are—” She hesitated, searching for words that writhed just beyond reach. “...Why they are, the way that they are.”
The smile returned, brighter still.
“Or maybe it is a story, about the way things were!”
Chandani – (as that was the instructor’s registration name, with only her closest and most favored familiars having permission to call her by ‘Chani’) –offered a guarded smile. “Getting warm, I think,” she said.
Frustration frizzed, it was palpable, and Artemis threw both hands into the air. “You don’t know anymore than I do!” She flipped aimlessly between tacked sheets. “But I’m supposed to go out there and perform this mess!”
“A Recitalist would need more time,” said the Instructor. “Good thing, then, that you are a Witch.” Chandani’s hair was black, riven by wheatish streaks that curled about her temples; and her eyes, almond dark, softened with something like sadness. “They put this on you because you are the best we got. You already know that.” She adjusted the student’s collar, straightened the hat. “Fix up, look sharp. You got this. You have never not got it.”
Artemis laughed despite herself, did a quick checkdown that everything was in order; the kinetic audio engine hummed against her collarbone, and the low-glowing pages tacked to the stylus rustled softly. She flashed a signal to a waiting technician, up in the eaves of the high, cylindrical chamber.
From the recessed access at base of the stage, Chandani mouthed, ‘think it well, follow your origin, and the Verse will lead you forth.’ With this, the space darkened, sliding shutters retracting across the canopy and along the thin window ports, up above the highest row of rafters. The restless crowd fell silent as the star Recitalist stepped out onto the waiting stage, where a slant of blinding light found her.
Iznah kinda prob, she said to herself, with an almost hopeful bravado that proved useless against all the doubts and aches that deepened with her every strugglesum breath. Nothing to it but to do it.
[[1]](#_ftnref1) INFERNO:I.1-3 (New Generative Translative)
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
ché la diritta via era smarrita.
CONTEXT: The opening lines from 1/TRANQUILO depict the Vesselant Ava awaking in a dimensionally-unbound lodge at center of a vast forest
[[2]](#_ftnref2) In reference to the direction of movement in a circular motion, relative to an observer. Interchangeable to ‘clockwise’ and ‘counterclockwise’; the colloquial meaning here can be understood as ‘forwards and backwards’, or ‘back-and-forth’.
[[3]](#_ftnref3) Common term for the Washing Wares, located at terminus of the Plaisance, near the Park Lagoon.
[[4]](#_ftnref4) Sun foxes: Domesticated and cherished companions within student clusters, sun foxes assist with soil enrichment and pest control while offering emotional support. Their fur, harvested respectfully after natural death, adorns ceremonial garments.
[[5]](#_ftnref5) PROM (Programmable Read-Only Memory): In the pre-Collapse era, PROMs were versatile data storage chips, storing data through a unique programming process. Unlike ROM, PROMs allowed a single write operation to inscribe data onto memory blocks. Modifying data required ‘‘block shifting”, realigning data by one block, which degraded quality with each rewrite. PROMs were used for permanent record-keeping where minor data degradation was acceptable; more rigorous requirements are encoded to Voxcoil mimetic memory.
NOTE: Voxcoil mimetic memory: A proprietary audio recording technology utilizing bio-engineered filaments attuned to specific vibrational frequencies.
[[6]](#_ftnref6) UNIFORM CODE, Chapter 5, Section 3, Article 12: Hatwear Regulations
XII: Performance attiring shall include a hat that conforms to the following standards:
o The hat shall be of a solid color, preferably black, navy, or dark gray.
o The hat shall have a brim that does not exceed four inches in width, measured from the crown to the edge of the brim; an exception can be made for circumferentially protruding semi-rigid brimmed hatwear, (e.g. ‘sunhat’, ‘cowboy hat’, ‘sunbonnet’), in which case the brim may extend up to eight inches in width, provided that the brim is of equal width around the entire crown.
o The hat shall have a crown that does not exceed six inches in height, measured from the base of the crown to the maximal height of the crown.
[Artemis qualifies her Witches Hat on basis that a Witching Hat is just a pagan sunhat; the crown height restriction is evaded with an artful interpretation of ‘maximal height of the crown’, as the tapered conical point of the Witching Hat is tamped down and lain flat such that the measured ‘maximal height’ of the crown comes in within regulation. It is important to recognize the context in which this creative interpretation of the statute is forwarded; the only reason it is allowed, is because it is Artemis Grant arguing it.]
[[7]](#_ftnref7) INFERNO:IV.149-151 (NGT)
per altra via mi mena il savio duca,
fuor de la queta, ne l’ aura che trema.
E vegno in parte ove non è che luca.
CONTEXT: Ava’s Guide, the Interferon known as ‘Solomon Drowne’, has led her to edge of the Unchanging Prado, to the gates of the wider forest labyrinth. Here the inner luminance of all things inverts, to being lit by externalities
[[8]](#_ftnref8) Gujarati phrase (સોદો થયો) meaning ‘it is a deal.’
submitted by Solomon-Drowne to BetaReaders [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 NemoNadie000 Torrent sites
Are there any torrent sites for mods? Some Of the games i want are a couple of gigs so I'm hoping they have torrents of them
submitted by NemoNadie000 to moddedandroidapps [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 iLex037 Roller Shutters
Hey Smarthomer, Im moving to a new flat the next days and looking for smart Roller Shutter relay's. The flat has normal Switches for it. I want to make them smart and bring them in my homeassistant app. What relay you can recommend? Im from EUROPA (germany). Shouldnt be that expensive since i need 8.
submitted by iLex037 to homeassistant [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 SuspiciousMost1126 what do you idiots get out of trying to scam dommes
i’ve seen so many “subs” post on here but it’s always the same type of comments saying “i can’t dm you” “i would love to worship you” and it’s all just bullshit
submitted by SuspiciousMost1126 to findommes [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 MrManiac1984 🌊 Aqua Services - Lifetime cheats, tools, and spoofers for BO6, Delta Force, Marvel Rivals, and more ($15-20 USD) 🌊
Website: https://patreon.com/aquaservices (PayPal, Card, and Venmo accepted) <-- PURCHASE UNDETECTED LIFETIME CHAIRS AND SPOOFERS FOR BO6, Fortnite AND MORE HERE (24/7 AUTO STORE)
Discord: https://discord.gg/hFs6hHJTbu
UNDETECTED since November 2023, we sell products for BO6, Fortnite, Delta Force, Marvel Rivals, Rust, Apex Legends, XDefiant, PUBG, MW3, Valorant, and more
Check us out: https://youtu.be/Nrg9c_11HCE (product showcase video)
submitted by MrManiac1984 to gamecheats [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 Apprehensive_Net6552 why is the image like this .weather i put in low/medium or high it stays like this !!! this is definitive edition ...allthough digital edition didn't appeared like this
 | https://preview.redd.it/5k61jwkw0tde1.png?width=1440&format=png&auto=webp&s=4d2cbda882a91b466faff6e81048b9651c57a68e mafia 3 submitted by Apprehensive_Net6552 to CrackSupport [link] [comments] |
2025.01.18 19:33 Numerous_Marzipan_23 I want out of my marriage but my spouse lost his job, if I left now would I be the AH?
I was finally ready to enact a plan to escape my marriage and my husband just got laid off. Emotionally I have been checked out for months at this point so other than asking him what he plans to do I didn't offer any support for his job loss even though he is not really talking to anyone in the house and is visibly depressed. We have not been intimate in more than five months and the only reason I couldn't leave is because I have no where to go and not enough to support my two kids, the dogs and myself. I was starting to pay off debt so when we divorced we would sell the house (which has tons of equity in it since we bought at the lowest in the market) and I could use that to pay for my divorce and have a nest egg to start looking for a new place for me and my kids (I can't rent because of the breeds of my puppers). I was scared but I was doing for me the first time in over 10 years and it felt good to have an exit strategy.
A little background, my husband is not violent towards us but he screams and yells and throws things when he is mad. He slams doors and has actually made our son pee himself before. When I was pregnant with our son, the job I was at paid me little to nothing so if I stayed at a 9-5 I would be paying to work there after the daycare each month for a toddler and a newborn. So when we exhausted all other possible options, I put in my notice and was out of a job for a single day before I went into labor. Hours after pushing and getting nowhere the doctor came to tell us our son was beginning to show signs of stress and I wasnt progressing so we needed to do a C-section. My husband had spent months screaming and yelling at me for putting in my notice (I was going to have my son and get a job serving tables which I had years of experience doing so I could be with the kids in the day and work at night while he was home) that when the doctor told me I refused. A C-section meant more time recovering and I couldn't afford that especially with how I was mentally broken down daily by my spouse. I burst into tears and the doctor told me I had a half hour to get adjusted to the idea or me and my son would be in trouble. During the C-section I nearly bled out. I was informed the next day by hospital staff I was close to dying. We made it home and immediately I was expected to cook, clean and take care of both kids and the yard as I was unemployed. On week 8 I found two jobs and was gone most the time from about 2:30 in the afternoon till midnight. I even got a third job for awhile to replenish the money we lost while I was out with the baby. The entire 8 weeks I was put down for being a burden and adding stress to him. I was suicidal and if it wasn't for my babies I might have tried something. That was 9 years ago and honestly the looking down on and verbal abuse as well as the explosive anger has not gotten any better. My family and friends try to stay out of it but their dislike of him and the situation is known. At one point he left for a week on my daughter's birthday after blaming her for him leaving. She was 11 and it was all because she didn't want him coaching her sport anymore since he screamed at her on the field, in the car on the way to and from and at home over her 'performance'. He was embarrassed to have to tell the other coaches and kids he was stepping down and raged at her. I stepped in and told him he was scaring her, the dogs and our son. That is when my son peed himself. It was the best and worst week. The kids and I were so close and connected and we laughed, cried and emoted however we want (Everytime we get too giggly or the kids are overly excited or cry we all get yelled at that we are being stupid and annoying) but it was stressful. I didn't eat the whole week because I couldn't. Plus it was my babies birthday and she felt like crap because he said it was her fault he left. When he came back and we were all back to being stressed in a different way and walking on egg shells I realized I needed to get out for my kids and myself. It wasn't healthy and we were drowning.
It's taken years to get the courage to start to try to leave. I know people will say "just go!" "What are you waiting for? It's better to be poor or homeless than be there!" And those people are right, even I had said that to others in a similar situation. But it's scary and you hate yourself for how long you put up with it, not to mention the struggle against the thoughts that I can't do it by myself and my kids will pay more by me leaving being homeless and broke than staying. Now the security of his paycheck is not holding me back but if I tell him I want a divorce all anyone will see is a wife leaving her husband because he didn't support her anymore as he lost his job. AITAH if I file for divorce now?
submitted by Numerous_Marzipan_23 to AITAH [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 POPSICLES01 Best way to make a second copy of physical hard drive, and keep it up to date?
Hey folks! I'm trying to get some better internal structure, safety and hygiene in my back up strategies. I am trying to better understand the most optimal approach to the 3-2-1 strategy in this case. I am considering adding Backblaze into this, but unsure if I should back up my computer, or my external hard drive to Backblaze.
MacBook Pro - Currently only doing backup regularly through a physical hard drive (+ integrate back up to Backblaze?)
External 2TB Hard drive - Containing music library, old photos, artist project files etc. Currently, I have a second hard drive that is a copy of the first. How can I keep this second hard drive an exact clone of the first one, without manually having to drag files between them? That it what I have done up until now. I want to have this second copy at home, since I travel a lot. The first one is always in my backpack, so I want a safe copy if the first should be stolen, damaged or corrupted.
Thanks in advance for your insights!
submitted by POPSICLES01 to DataHoarder [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 RedFruityLarry First attempts!
 | I’m a digital artist and primarily use Illustrator as my medium. I’ve been wanting to make something actually tangible so I went with acrylics! These are rough in execution for sure, but I’m glad I stuck to it! submitted by RedFruityLarry to acrylicpainting [link] [comments] |
2025.01.18 19:33 Marissa349 Anybody want a free ticket to see sing sing at AMC?
I get free tickets through A24. I'm too busy this weekend. Just shoot me a dm and it's yours. I can pick anytime at any AMC.
submitted by Marissa349 to Columbus [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 Spare-Ad-4669 Looking for high iq rec / proam players. No casuals please ps5
submitted by Spare-Ad-4669 to NBA2kTeamUp [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 MariachiStucardo I think Brett was lying when he said he qualified to be a computer programmer for the Air Force
submitted by MariachiStucardo to heavymetalandnerds [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 Bim2222 What's the deal with the Schecter x Hercules Tempest?
This morning, I received an email from a (trusted) local music store informing me that I won a raffle for a Schecter x Hercules Tempest that I entered a few months ago. (just wrote my name and email on a flyer and forgot about it) Excited, I immediately searched for more information about the guitar online. It was advertised to me as a 'limited edition' with only 400 made, so I expected there to be a lot of hype around it. However, I can only find posts from a handful of European guitar stores selling them; there's nothing from Schecter itself. In a post on this subreddit, I read something about it being a dumb move that hurt Schecter's image.
Could someone please explain the backstory of this guitar to me? I've never owned a Schecter guitar before but have always heard great things about them. The fact that I can't even find an official announcement from Schecter or Hercules is a bit strange to me.
Thanks!
submitted by Bim2222 to SchecterGuitars [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 Jojolionfannumber8 Por que me está vendiendo esto????
 | Estoy en un mundo infernum y el mercader me esta vendiendo el arco de pulsos por alguna razon. Como se puede ver en la foto no e matado nisiquiera al cerebro wtf??? submitted by Jojolionfannumber8 to TerrariaES [link] [comments] |
2025.01.18 19:33 CowboysFTW STAR-C2GJ-XSSS for 5,000 UEC [+Subscriber Flair]
Star Citizen Referral Code: STAR-C2GJ-XSSS
Use the following links Create an account - https://robertsspaceindustries.com/enlist?referral=STAR-C2GJ-XSSS
All referrals, I will give any referrals (anyone who uses my referral code and spends $40+ on RSI website) one of the following subscriber flair (Your choice):
Sawtooth “Sunspike” Combat Knife
Twenty-sided die
Crusader Accent Chair
Custodian "Brimstone" SMG,
Killer Creature Double Feature
Salvaged Skull Couch
Salvaged Skull Lounge Chair
Ornate Drinking Gourd
Corsair Plushie
TruBarrier Hazard Suit and Mask - Hi-Vis Biohazard
TruBarrier Hazard Suit and Mask - Dark Biohazard
C54 "Luckbringer" SMG
2954 Tempt Fate Tankard
Hello Sunshine Cheeky Planter
Hello Sunshine Happy Planter
As an experienced player, I can help answer any questions regarding 4.0, ship sales, how CCU’s work, NPC Bounties, in-game mining, and how to save some money via warbonds on internet spaceships.
Send me a message if you use my code. Thank you
submitted by CowboysFTW to StarCitizenFreebies [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 ObeyHime HxH fans the minute killua starts getting sad/depressed
 | submitted by ObeyHime to HunterXHunter [link] [comments] |
2025.01.18 19:33 StrangeDetective6245 Am I ghosted
Hi to all female here,kinda confused here- seeking advise to all male ...am I being ghosted, there's this guy who's being nice and all and always explain himself as being busy as hes and HR so like most of the time at work, even on Saturdays but Sunday he's busy with his relatives, shall I just end this am tired knowing from him,euther his busy,he was sick or didn't able to escape from his relatives... he was genuinely nice to me although I didn't demand for a really fancy date.Ourmeet ups are not like usually dates . he would visit me after works in the week days that's like 2-3hrs a short convo,and take away food we usually eat inside car...I really am confused he's nice but I felt not good... shall I end this situationship... We r also not in relationship officially 😔 tell me Ur thoughts
submitted by StrangeDetective6245 to dating [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 ReplacementSome7414 Did a drawing of my Dads TT what do you think?😅
 | submitted by ReplacementSome7414 to AudiTT_Mk1_Mk2_Mk3 [link] [comments] |
2025.01.18 19:33 MixBoring Quality 😮💨
 | finally got these 2 submitted by MixBoring to Diecast [link] [comments] |
2025.01.18 19:33 Walter_White2137 Crossplay is the worst thing that was ever added to siege.
submitted by Walter_White2137 to Rainbow6 [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 Impressive_While_289 Has anyone tried thota and bread? Very excited to taste it with strangers tomorrow in Ahmedabad - please hype me up if you love it
https://www.instagram.com/darshita.ttdp?igsh=cjBkNDYwMHYybmdy&utm_source=qr
submitted by Impressive_While_289 to ahmedabad [link] [comments]
2025.01.18 19:33 Epoyato [Viking Tribal Percussive] Loki’s Chaos by Poyato
![[Viking Tribal Percussive] Loki’s Chaos by Poyato](https://external-preview.redd.it/s4K4suIwE-tnxG0XuXAqnYc8XyEnNIizt4KV_a7ip_k.jpg?width=320&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=9c393d60b5b8a1342fc7022c7c6d63333f390750 "[Viking Tribal Percussive] Loki’s Chaos by Poyato") | submitted by Epoyato to SunoAI [link] [comments] |
2025.01.18 19:33 PaleontologistDue841 458982851769 I don’t egg, XP is yours!!!
I open and send every day!
submitted by PaleontologistDue841 to PokemonGoFriends [link] [comments]