Team Rocket when they get the ass beat.
2025.01.27 04:20 70MPHOnMyTruck Team Rocket when they get the ass beat.
 | submitted by 70MPHOnMyTruck to battlefield_one [link] [comments] |
2025.01.27 04:20 No-Bakerah Nigga update - woke up. Blastoff bitch, jet fuel.
 | submitted by No-Bakerah to pakistoned [link] [comments] |
2025.01.27 04:20 Sufficient-Bid1279 Anyone Else Sick and Tired of this Consolidation ? Pepsi Just Made a $1.2 Billion Acquisition of Something That Has Nothing to Do With Carbonated Beverages
We often talk about retailers like Loblaws and how monopolizing markets drives up prices but also look at what is happening up the supply chain . A good example is Pepsi - they just acquired Siete Foods. These types of acquisitions fly under the radar and before you know it, boom ! People are like, how did they get so big? We need to start scrutinizing these mergers and acquisitions. This company Pepsi is acquiring doesn’t have anything to do with beverages. I know Pepsi currently has other items under their portfolio that are not beverages but still, this is a HUGE problem
https://www.fool.com/investing/2025/01/26/pepsi-just-made-a-12-billion-acquisition-of-someth/?
submitted by Sufficient-Bid1279 to loblawsisoutofcontrol [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 vovansirssan Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut (almost done)
 | submitted by vovansirssan to buildaboatfortreasure [link] [comments] |
2025.01.27 04:20 GoopJalen Anyone else ever have this issue?
 | It’s been 12 days since the last tracking update… submitted by GoopJalen to usps_complaints [link] [comments] |
2025.01.27 04:20 AstroRogers Finds today from a toy show in Roseville CA, so stoked to finally have a full size Saba!
Dragon dagger and Saba were out of the box but in good condition, was able to pick them up for the great price. Pink ranger helmet was open box but great shape, had to honor my first childhood crush lol goes perfect next to my white ranger helmet!
submitted by AstroRogers to powerrangers [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 rolpalyer69 Hola mi bbs q tal va su noche
 | submitted by rolpalyer69 to Latino_roleplay [link] [comments] |
2025.01.27 04:20 Zestyclose5527 Phainon (@xoxo_hush)
Source
submitted by Zestyclose5527 to HonkaiHusbandos [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 gousdelic Busco alguna chica para platicar
Para charlar y cachondear :p
submitted by gousdelic to SanLuisPotosi [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 Different-Cheetah891 4/15/1971
 | submitted by Different-Cheetah891 to PatriciaMattick [link] [comments] |
2025.01.27 04:20 p-buttercup Looking for replacement for Sennheiser RS 185s
- Budget - $300 ish? Not a hard limit, but this is for seniors, not audiophiles.
- Source/Amp - Wireless, with transmittebase plugging in to the TV.
- How the gear will be used - Purely for TV use
- Preferred tonal balance - Not picky, as long as it compliments TV/movies
- Past gear experience - Sennheiser RS 185. Previously bought these for elderly parents. They appreciated that it was easy to set up, had a long range, that they were open back, and could relatively easily replace the earpads & batteries. I'm hesitant to get the 175/195 as they are closed back and if they notice that, they might not want to use them.
submitted by p-buttercup to HeadphoneAdvice [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 AdBrief4620 If Smaug, Saruman and Durin’s bane allied, could they defeat Sauron?
First of all, this is a hypothetical so ‘but they wouldn’t’ doesn’t apply.
In this situation Smaug fled the lonely mountain after being badly wounded by Bard and took up residence in Gundabad where he rules a orcs as their numbers grow post-battle of the five armies.
The balrog is in Moria and has taken a similar leadership role to the Goblins there.
Saruman reaches out to both the Balrog and the dragon and opens a dialogue. Eventually he convinces both of them that it is in their interests to ally and destroy Sauron. Again this is a hypothetical so you will have to assume there is a way to do this. Presumably Smaug is promised plunder and the balrog, well that’s harder to say, revenge against Sauron for something in the past or for taking Morgoth’s title as dark lord after renouncing him?
Saruman proceeds as normal, revealing himself to Gandalf and building his army. He still seeks the ring for himself but suspects he won’t obtain it. He believes that the free peoples will lose to Sauron and that allying himself with Sauron will not be enough to prevent his own demise. Additionally he feels he is best suited to rule middle earth. As such, the best course of action is to take out Sauron, perhaps aided by the free peoples and then conquer or intimidate them also.
Assume that the council of Elrond decide to keep the ring in Rivendell and see if Sauron can first be defeated by arms. Only then will they risk sending the ring to mount doom.
So can Sauron be defeated?
submitted by AdBrief4620 to lotr [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 Electronic_Seat_4336 jethalal is not true friend of mehta ??
i was watching a story in which jethalal ask for help to mehta for his meeting
the issue was that jethalal cant speak eng properly so he wanna take mehta with him in meeting but mehta have taken holiday for anjali to celebrate the anniversary .
i dont know but why jethalal is so much behind mehta for meeting
jethalal always gives gifts to babita but never to mehta but mehta always help him .
i mean jethalal is troublemaker for mehta also . he dont care about mehta personal life
idk what but why mehta help that guy who dont give a f to him
jethalal even dont trust bagha and nattu kaka for meeting . he always underestimate them . as we know they can speak decent eng but jethalal dont trust them
jethalal is most irritating now
submitted by Electronic_Seat_4336 to TMKOC [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 Cait_Cat369 3 star trades 1:1
 | Play MONOPOLY GO! with me! Download it here: https://mply.io/s6nylw submitted by Cait_Cat369 to MonopolyGoTrading [link] [comments] |
2025.01.27 04:20 eatmea Star Fish
Lots of Star Fish washed up on the beach by the tide
submitted by eatmea to obx [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 ryuu745 Ordinator werewolf build questions
Only mods I'm using are ordinator and the bonus perk points associated with it.
I'm trying to build an orc werewolf character using mainly alteration, alchemy, and destruction. Plan is to use berserker rage, armor spells, cloak spells, and potions to boost health and stamina recovery. And poisons for my battle axe when I can't wolf out.
I'm wondering what else in the trees I'm missing out on perk wise, that would still have an effect while I'm a wolf.
Currently i am wearing robes for the no armor boost, and have the alter self perks and the wellocs perks that soups up the armor spells.
submitted by ryuu745 to EnaiRim [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 Extension-Hawk6025 lgbtq+ / lesbian community at isu?
hi, i’ve recently been accepted into isu and one of the few worries i have is that i won’t find any lgbtq+ friends / there won’t be many supportive people there. is this likely?
submitted by Extension-Hawk6025 to iastate [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 squirrlyboy I found my first bug in Pokémon Go
 | I knew it was a Zygarde Cell when it first spawned in. The pink square pulsed like it regularly does, but started small and grew! It was a cool visual glitch. submitted by squirrlyboy to pokemongo [link] [comments] |
2025.01.27 04:20 Individual-Horse-740 [Question] Aroxana Watches
Hello, all! I’m still semi-new to watch collecting. I came across the Aroxana brand. I tried to research the brand but I couldn’t come up with much of anything. Would anyone happen to have some information they could share? I’m genuinely curious as to what the history is. Thanks in advance!
submitted by Individual-Horse-740 to Watches [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 EXCUSE_ME_BEARFUCKER I ate a ghost pepper and now my is ass on fire. Spirits, what should I take for my stomach ache?
submitted by EXCUSE_ME_BEARFUCKER to AskOuija [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 No-StrategyX Do you think people are stirring up US-Canada relations in this subreddit?
There are also Democratic supporters attacking the Trump administration.
Where do you think these people come from? Russia? China? Middle East?
submitted by No-StrategyX to AskCanada [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 Significant_Day_9655 Good ice on pond?
Theres a park by me that has around a 30x60 rink that I've never seen anyone at, only me. I bring a shovel and remove all the snow that i can but about half the rink is unusable because the snow is packed on the ice and a shovel wont do it. Any recommendations on how to smooth it out? I was thinking a couple 5 gal buckets of water and just hope that does it. Theres no water hookups around it so i have to be able to transport everything in my truck. Im originally from texas so im pretty clueless about ODRs
submitted by Significant_Day_9655 to Pondhockey [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 shamoozoid How To Disable Tracking On Facebook | PC Tutorial
 | submitted by shamoozoid to techtalktutorials [link] [comments] |
2025.01.27 04:20 ArgiopeAurantia I was almost murdered when I was eight years old. I think.
"Tell me you're from the Midwest without telling me you're from the Midwest."
The click of a lighter snapped me back to reality, and I suddenly felt the spatter of rain on my face again. A cloud of foul roll-up smoke drifted across the street.
"Huh?" I said, eyes darting to the left. My neighbor gazed at me from her balcony, eyes hooded.
"Thunderstorms," she said, inhaling again. "You can always tell when we get them out here. Everybody who's actually from Seattle stays inside, but if you come from somewhere else you're outside staring as soon as the first flash of lightning hits. I'm from Iowa. Where are you from?"
"Indiana," I answered, as the sky lit up with another bright flash. "Southern Indiana." I took a deep pull from my bottle of wine.
"I knew it!" she said, soft smoke pouring from her smile. "We all love the rain. The real rain, not the mist you usually get out here."
"I wouldn't say I love it. I just feel compelled to watch it."
"Or that," she agreed. "We feel connected to thunderstorms, though, in a way that people from here don't."
I couldn't disagree. I certainly felt connected to thunderstorms, though I wouldn't say I missed them. One of the many reasons I found myself here, so very far from the forests and creek bottoms of home, had been how infrequent real rainstorms used to be before climate change started ramping up. But they did draw me out, every time the sky crashed white and angry. After all, a thunderstorm had made me what I am today. I couldn't say that that was a positive thing.
We stood in silence as the sky shuddered and crashed around us. Her smoke drifted slowly across my vision, and I sank back into the past.
*August 8th, 1988, Bloomington Herald-Telephone: *
Authorities are seeking information in connection with the death of six-year-old Jeremy Schaffer, discovered on Sunday morning by the railroad tracks just outside city limits. Police say the boy was tied up and tortured for hours before his throat was slashed and he was left to bleed to death alone in the woods.
"I've never seen anything like it," reported officer Joel Clark, his hand pressed to his stomach. "He was just a little kid. That anybody could do this to an innocent little boy... There's no explanation for this."
*Law enforcement is at a loss to explain the shocking scene. Local reporters were kept at a distance while police investigated, far behind the yellow crime scene tape which now surrounds the railway bridge to the south of town. *
Any citizen with information that might lead to an arrest in this case is encouraged to come forth. The police have set up an anonymous tip line at (812)555-XXXX. For now, law enforcement remains baffled.
I was eight years old that summer, still small enough to be entirely helpless, just big enough to begin to become aware of the fact. I was an only child, and a lonely child, because I was strange. I read too many books, used too many big words. I brought my stuffed cat, Kitty, to school with me. I was meat for the beast of the great social mill that grinds us all down, over time, into well-shaped little cogs for the vast machine of Society. I didn't understand how to be anything else. And it wasn't in any of the other children's interest to help me.
So as I trundled along the railroad tracks that afternoon on my way home from school, my first instinct wasn't exactly excitement when I heard my name shouted from just up ahead. "Jackie! Hey, Jackie!" My stick-skinny little shoulders tensed. It sounded like Jessica, or maybe Casey, girls a whole grade ahead of me. Whoever it was, I didn't think they had my best interests at heart. I hung my head and tried to ignore it, to walk by in silence. Maybe they'd let me go. I'd just gotten a new pair of glasses a month ago, and my parents would get angry if they had to pay for new ones. I stared at my cheap Velcro sneakers and plodded on, one foot after the other. Please just let me pass.
"Jackie, we know you can hear us! Come down here! We have something to show you!"
That voice I recognized. That voice belonged to Dustin, my longtime tormentor. I sighed, knowing there was no escape now, and turned my eyes to meet his.
His gap-toothed grin stretched wide as he beckoned me down the steep hill. "Come on," he said. "Quick. We found something really cool. You're going to want to see this." And despite the fact that I knew I wasn't, that anything the older children wanted to show me was likely to result in scuffed jeans and shredded skin at best, I went. I had, by now, already learned my place, and besides, I couldn't run away through my childhood asthma. Maybe it wouldn't hurt too much, this time. And I was already learning to go away in my head when it hurt too much anyway.
Slow and unwilling, I shuffled down the slope. Kevin and Casey and Mariah and Clint stepped out of the trees to meet me, grinning like sharks. "Hurry up," said Kevin. "We have to show you this."
I reached the bottom of the hill and stopped, still some six yards away. There was something sharp in Casey's smile, a glimmer in Mariah's green eyes, that cut through my childish resignation and struck a genuine alarm bell. "My mom and dad are waiting for me," I told them. "They know I was coming this way, and they'll be mad if I'm late." My voice quavered, and I quietly cursed the cowardice that had brought me this close. My mother and father didn't care where I was, they were both at work, and they wouldn't start searching until long after dark if I didn't come home that afternoon. But I finished the attempt anyway, in desperate hope: "They're probably already looking. They'll probably be here any minute."
"It's this way," said Dustin, ignoring my attempts at a graceful, safe exit. "Come on. You're going to want to see this." As he turned back toward the woods, the other four swarmed out to circle me, to drive me like sheepdogs, still grinning their pink grins, twelve or so permanent teeth between them.
I knew when I was beaten. I followed Dustin into the dim green tunnel of the treeline.
We started down a deer trail, the hungry pack nipping at my heels. No one spoke. We all knew we were beyond words now. I was theirs to do with as they would, and all I could do was hope it wouldn't end too badly.
After what felt like an hour, but couldn't have been nearly so long, Dustin said, "It's this way," and gripped my wrist, leading me off to the side. It was dark, this far into the trees, even in the summer slant of late afternoon. The hills rose brown around us, and the railway had swooped back to meet our path. A trestle hung far above, the bridge casting angular shadows over our faces. Dustin led me into a shallow cave, cool and dripping. "It's back here."
I followed, step by unwilling step, shoes sinking into the thick cave-mud as we left the light behind us. The earth sloped upward beneath my feet, and I slipped. Dustin tightened his grip on my forearm. "Almost there..."
And suddenly, inexplicably, there were stairs, and Dustin was pulling me up them into the darkness. We entered a chamber carved out of the rock. It was dim, lit only by thin greyness that filtered in from a vine-choked grating far overhead. I gazed up helplessly, and I saw that the sky boiled with clouds. A light rain began to patter down on us as Dustin drew me to the center of the room. I saw that someone had dragged an old metal chair there. And I saw a coil of rope laying on the ground.
Dustin smiled, the faded light glinting off his broad incisors. I heard Casey cough behind me. It almost sounded uncertain.
"Pretty cool, huh?" Dustin's voice was low, hypnotic. "We thought you would like it."
I glanced around me at the other children, eyes wide and rolling with fear. They kept to the shadows at the edges of the room, unsure. I thought I saw a question in Mariah's eyes as she shot a look toward Kevin, who moved back half a step. My labored breathing was the only sound besides the tapping of sullen, slow rain for a moment. But no one would meet my eyes.
I drew in a breath. I didn't know what I'd say, I only knew that this had gone very, very bad. The air hung heavy in the cavern.
Dustin spoke before I could, something harsh in his voice beyond what any nine-year-old should've been able to manage. It sounded like hunger. It sounded like the hunt. It sounded like the end of the world.
"Why don't you sit down, Jackie?" he whispered.
And the sky opened up. A blast of lightning and a burst of thunder hit at the same moment, knocking all of us to the ground. I rubbed my wrist where Dustin had gripped it white and backed away, slowly at first, then faster. The rain poured down through the grating above, and no one else moved as I pushed myself against the wall.
"I'm going home," I announced, and cursed myself silently. My voice was small and shaky, far from the defiance I'd hoped to project. I knew one of them was going to stop me at any second. But I turned, and I ran down the stairs and out of that cursed cavern. And none of them followed me.
None of them ever came after me as I fled through the shattering sky and the battering rain.
*
Two days later, Jeremy Schaffer's body was found in that chamber, twined in the ropes I'd so narrowly escaped. I didn't know him, of course-- what business would an eight-year-old have with a six-year-old? But none of us were allowed to walk home along the railroad tracks for the rest of the year.
I went back once, long after the crime scene tape was gone, chewed up by years of Southern Indiana wind and winters. Older, still alone, and now without the stuffed cat who waited at home on my bed. I'd learned, by then. I'd learned many things, most of them ugly. I was sixteen, and in high school. Dustin had moved on to tormenting other, smaller children after I grew six inches over one summer break. I was still gawky and weak, but I didn't present as enticing a target anymore. Among other ugly things, I'd learned to live with the fact that other children still did, just as long as I wasn't among them.
The air was stifling in the cavern, still in the golden afternoon. Water dripped somewhere in the background, drawing slow stalactites down from the ceiling grates high above. Nothing else moved. The chair was long gone, dragged off for crime scene research in some faraway police lab. All that remained were graffiti and beer cans, proof that even the darkest days gone by couldn't stop bored kids from finding a place to party.
I didn't really know why I'd come. I only knew that the place had haunted my dreams for years, and I'd finally felt compelled to come back. To seek clues? To look for answers the adult world hadn't been able to find? I couldn't say.
I poked in the debris with a handy stick, overturning snack wrappers and shreds of old newspaper. There was nothing here. Only emptiness, and the echoes of a dead child's last screams. I shivered as night came down over the woods outside. It was time to leave.
As I made my way slowly down the slippery staircase, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. I whirled, peering back into the shadows, but nothing moved. Still, I wasn't willing to turn my back on the cavern. My eyes scoured the dimness as I backed away, one careful step at a time, until my feet found solid ground. Then I turned and dashed off into the encroaching night.
Two days later another child was reported missing. I didn't follow the story that time. It had nothing to do with me.
*
Not everyone did, but I got out. My weak frame housed a decent mind, and I slaved away at college application essays until I arrived at a decent scholarship to a university far away from my hometown. I wasn't sorry to leave.
Unfortunate as it is to report, I didn't miss my family much, and I'm afraid they didn't miss me either. I stayed on campus for my first winter break working a meaningless Facilities job to feed my scholarship, and that set the sequence of my college years. I stayed away, and nobody really minded. I made friends, dated a few people, some more seriously than others. I set up my own life far away from the Indiana bottomlands. It wasn't until years later, when my stepfather reached an extreme in his lengthy process of dying of lung cancer, that I returned for more than a long weekend.
Bloomington had changed considerably during my absence. The town had stretched westward and swallowed up a considerable portion of the woods I once spent time in. Downtown had edged nervously out of the comfortable hippie territory it had occupied for decades and blossomed into Starbucks and Chipotles, and it had developed a second strip of ethnic restaurants alongside the college campus. The newspaper had changed its name from the Herald Telephone to the Herald Times. There were vegan cafes. Progress was everywhere.
But some things hadn't changed. I ran into Mariah at Kilroy's one night, and we sank into the uneasy communion of former classmates who hadn't really liked each other much, but who were both tipsy enough to ignore that for the sake of a couple of comfortable shots.
"Remember Kevin?" she giggled, several drinks in. "He married Melissa Britton, of all people! They have three kids now, can you believe it?"
"Three? How? Were they triplets?" At age 24, three children seemed like an excess.
"Nope, just one after another. Two boys and one girl."
"I guess they still get along pretty well, then." Mariah guffawed, and I consciously held myself back from wincing. It really hadn't been that good a joke. But the bartender placed two more shots of whiskey in front of us, and I gamely carried on.
"And remember Emily Lawrence? We always thought she and Jacob would be together forever, but she ended up marrying Joe Walsh!" I did not in fact remember any of those people, and suspected that at this point Mariah had forgotten that we'd never been friends to begin with. But I smiled politely and slugged my Jim Beam.
"And Mary and Katie turned out to be lesbians", she whispered, wide-eyed, upending her own shot into her beer. "I mean we always knew they were both kind of weird, but I never expected that!"
I remembered again why I'd left, and signaled the bartender for another drink.
"What ever happened to Dustin?" I asked, as casual as possible, tracking her movements closely. She froze, only briefly, before she pulled a compact out of her purse and began checking her makeup. A long moment passed before she responded.
"Dustin's still around," she said. "He got a job at Cook. I haven't really talked to him for a while." She put her powder away and flicked her eyes toward the door. "Oh my God, is that Ashley?" she shrilled, and waved her hands. "Girl! Get over here! You'll never believe who's back in town!"
*
It was a long and pointless night, and, drunk as I was by the end, I found myself unable to sleep by the time I settled into my hotel bed. I picked my way randomly around the internet for a while, checking on headlines and social media, until I found myself hovering over a search box containing the words "Bloomington Indiana disappearances".
I didn't want to know, but I went ahead and clicked.
Behind the high-profile disappearance of a college girl a couple of years before, I found exactly what I'd expected. Seven children over sixteen years, each murder more vicious than the last. Authorities stumped, no evidence besides the poor fragile corpses. Nothing to hang an investigation on. I closed my laptop and sank into a profoundly dissatisfied sleep full of dripping grey light and cold caverns under the train tracks.
*
It's been twenty years, and eight more murders. I check occasionally, even now, from a thousand miles away. Every so often a hum starts in my brain and it swells until I can't avoid entering the old question into Google again. The thing is, I don't actually know anything at all. I don't know whether I was really meant to be the first child to go, all those years ago. I haven't seen Dustin since he slouched out of high school for the last time the year before I graduated. I don't know what he really was. He might only ever have been a baby bully who only loomed large in my own tiny head. He might never have done anything at all.
But when the stormclouds crackle, I can't help but wonder. When the air sizzles with ozone, the uncertainty comes surging back. If I hadn't managed to clumsily run away that day, would Jeremy Schaffer have made it through the night? And would that have been better? What might he have become, if we'd traded places? Would he have been more than a socially awkward IT worker? Would he have changed the world? Because I certainly never have.
I Google Dustin too. I never find much. He's still alive, still in Bloomington, still working a factory job. He got married a few years ago for the third time. I wonder whether she's happy, whether she's safe, whether she's scarred. I wonder so many things.
In a way, I'll never get to leave that cavern under the railroad track. Not until I die, or until whoever is stealing the children of my hometown is dragged struggling into the light. It was so small a thing, what happened that afternoon. I may have been safe the whole time.
Or maybe I escaped by the narrowest of margins. I'll never know, because there's fundamentally nothing to report. A child who pulls the wings off of flies and stomps frogs in the creek could be a vicious murderer, or he could be a small victim himself. All I know is that a shadow set up housekeeping inside my skull that day, and it's never going away. And I might know who's killing children in Bloomington, Indiana. And then again, I might not.
And there's nothing I can do about it either way.
I wish I had an ending for you. I wish I had a dramatic climax to share where I tracked down the murderer, hid in the rain, saved a small child from a grisly demise. But all I have is the whisper of suspicion and the overwhelming consciousness of the burden of proof. All I have is my own cowardice, thrown into sharp relief that summer day so long ago. All I have are all the years since, grey days one after another, knowing I made it out and Jeremy Schaffer never did.
And most days, that's enough. But when the thunder boils up through the sky, I remember. And I question. And mostly, I know that there's nothing at all to report.
submitted by ArgiopeAurantia to nosleep [link] [comments]
2025.01.27 04:20 steffloc If your district told you, “Hey we are laying off 186 GE teachers, including you”, how would you go about it?
I haven’t personally been notified (and I really hope I am not). But my district is stating this is their plan.
I’m having a difficult time coming to terms with it and it has me feeling very uncomfortable.
submitted by steffloc to Teachers [link] [comments]