2021.06.14 15:29 StandAloneBro Misandry in the wild. It's thought like this that we need to stand up against ✊
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2021.06.14 15:29 Bob_Foster_ LGBT Gay Pride
|submitted by Bob_Foster_ to coloradohikers [link] [comments]|
2021.06.14 15:29 Perkysets 🦀We are the Krab Kingdom!🦀Our devs are doxxed, and we are the first decentralized gambling platform for hermit krab races! Join us on Telegram and become involved with our community.
Before you scroll, hear us out. Feel free to check out our website and white paper, and don’t forget to join our telegram and talk directly to our doxxed developers!
Our focus here is a simple one, and we do it well. We pride ourselves on our ability to catch, care, and race high performance hermit krabs. Help us become the first decentralized web3 gambling platform dedicated towards krab racing!
Be right there in the action, watching it all unfold, as twenty hermit krabs compete at the highest level in the first official KrabTucky Derby🏆. Once launched, all races will be streamed live with Twitch and uploaded to YouTube. If you want to gamble, you will have to get some SHELLS🐚. Our token, SHELLS🐚, is the native currency of the Krab Kingdom, and will be used on our platform to bet on a krab before a race.
The coin itself will be a deflationary token, with a 6% tax on to each transaction.
-1% will be burnt, to increase the scarcity.
-1% will be redistributed, so members are incentivized to hold.
-3% will go towards stabilizing the liquidity. This helps manage price fluctuations, and a percentage of the presale will be allocated to the liquidity pool.
-1% will go towards a marketing wallet, as will 5% of the initial supply. We aim to be transparent, so our wallet address will become public prior to our launch.
(A more in-depth look at our tokenomics is available on our website: https://www.krabkingdom.com )
We are brand new and passionate about our project, so join us on telegram and view our website. This coin is completely community based, so we are open feedback and questions. We want to create a dialogue, so we will be hosting nightly telegram voice chats, feel free to talk to us and reach out! We are also looking for moderators for our community as we grow.
submitted by Perkysets to CryptocurrencyICO [link] [comments]
2021.06.14 15:29 seesawtron People who worked in IT departments of companies, what weird stuff did you find on the computers of the employees?
2021.06.14 15:29 carlyg92 I hope this belongs here. Moving help!
I’m moving from the states to Spain in two months and am just taking a lot of extra baggage on the plane. What are the circumstances that I won’t be able to take everything? Also how much will I be charged and I’ve tried to call the airline but they’re busy… can I request someone to help me on the other side when landing? Thanks for any info
submitted by carlyg92 to askspain [link] [comments]
2021.06.14 15:29 BasedDharma Gamesafe 🕹️ Gaming Marketplace 🎌 Audited, Doxxed team⚡️2M6 Marketcap⚡️Exchange listing in 7 days!
| Today a big announcement is coming for Gamesafe. I recommand everyone of you to fasten your seatbelts!|
Gamesafe will be listed the June 21st on Coinsbit (TOP 25 CoinGecko)
The token is called "Gamesafe" , I really like the name but unlike other "safe" shitcoins this token has a real utility case and this will be proven in the very near future.
So what's Gamesafe ?
Gamesafe is a token that has a marketcap of 2 millions currently, it has reached an ath of 12.5 millions. Just by taking a look at their website you understand how good the project is.
They're planning on releasing a gaming marketplace during the Q3 where everyone will be able to buy games (pc first), gift card and even gaming stuffs like keyboards mouses.... Using as a main payment "GAMESAFE Tokens".
So what's the utility of mixing BSC and a Gaming Marketplace?
Hodlers are rewarded with a 5% tax each transaction, so just by hodling you win free tokens!
Just a reminder... They got listed on CoinMarketCap, CoinGecko !
They brought FaZe Kay (6 Millions Subscribers) on board!
They also doxxed themselves during a Twitch live (Unfortunately twitch didn't saved the vod)
Got an inside info, an exchange listing is really close..
They will host a big WarZone tournament soon!
An AMA where the founders and their devs will answer to all your questions!
So now you have a token who mix Gaming + Crypto, with a small marketcap so you may have a good outcome (Realistically a x10-20 is reachable).
Time to join the Gamesafe Family !
submitted by BasedDharma to BSCMoonShots [link] [comments]
2021.06.14 15:29 OPCMG [FREE] Money Man x Future Type Beat 2021 - E.A
2021.06.14 15:29 PatrykTaiga Saori as Neko Girl (GuP) drawing
|submitted by PatrykTaiga to TeachMeArtSenpai [link] [comments]|
2021.06.14 15:29 TheLoneWolfReddit Safe Planet- token to save the world, low mcap, fast gain, launched a few days ago.
| Hi. A token that you can see that it is slowly climbing up. It seems to me that it is a good investment because saving the world is always fashionable.|
💲The money will be raised from SAFEPLANET token transaction fees. From each token transaction, a portion of the fees will continue to be used for further donations to charities that focus on green initiatives as Safe Planet looks to effect a lasting and positive change on the planet.
🍀Safe Planet’s sole focus is to generate capital and build a community that is able to repair the ecological damage done to the planet. Safe Planet also collaborates with another green charity called The Earth Fund, which has raised around 50 ETH ($125,000 at the time of writing) to be used for similar causes.
submitted by TheLoneWolfReddit to shitcoinpotential [link] [comments]
2021.06.14 15:29 Difficult-Stable-710 You serious?
|submitted by Difficult-Stable-710 to raimimemes [link] [comments]|
2021.06.14 15:29 BlackSoulMK i need a movie
2021.06.14 15:29 nkhlxd Reality, Simulation or a Dream?
Lately before sleeping, I get this thought are we really Living in a reality, or are we in a simulation where when we die, we wake up to a real reality which we call afterlife. Or is it just a very vivid dream in which we're living. I Know this is a very weird thing to ask, but this kinda scares me. There is Audible range we can here, there's a visual spectrum which we can see. Why this limit? There's a lot going on which we can't see or hear then right? I'd really appreciate it if anyone can give me a little peace of mind to me with their thoughts.
submitted by nkhlxd to DeepThoughts [link] [comments]
2021.06.14 15:29 JobDestroyer Free State Project's response to LPNH drama
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2021.06.14 15:29 ashmute 210614 SUGA
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2021.06.14 15:29 Main-Yogurtcloset-82 What is something you never thought you'd have to explain to a grown-a** adult?
2021.06.14 15:29 PlentyKitchen21 Suns could take it this year axe j
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2021.06.14 15:29 dbossman11 I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who works for Fxhome
2021.06.14 15:29 Lillian_Bridges LGBT Gay Pride
|submitted by Lillian_Bridges to ColoradoRockies [link] [comments]|
2021.06.14 15:29 LunaLovegood_159 So Jacobous didn't do the stay out of the basement cover? And who is Jim Thiesen? This is the copy from the latest Tin set btw
2021.06.14 15:29 ToddJustWorks Praise Todd Howard
2021.06.14 15:29 beardify The Knocking Stops If You Ignore It (Part 2)
After my friend Chantel disappeared when she answered a knock at her door, I made a list of rules for myself: I always kept my blinds shut, and I never answered any door or reacted to knocking, sounds, or voices if I couldn’t see their source. I threw myself into my schoolwork and tried to put the whole thing behind me. My parents were so thrilled by my sudden interest in academics that they barely noticed my new, bizarre behavior around doors and windows.
They thought I was growing up.
The truth was that I'd made a simple choice: I was going to make it, no matter what. Out of that moldy apartment and withering town, away from the smoke-belching factories and the housewives who gossiped about us beside stacks of angel food cake. I’d go far away. Far from anything unnatural. Far from the past.
Deborah was a different story. While I looked to the future, she threw herself wholeheartedly into attempting to resolve the past. With her good looks, athletic skills, and influential family, Deborah was one of the most popular kids in school--until her new obsession revealed how fickle people can be. Deborah went down a rabbit hole of paranormal investigation and occult studies. As her grades and health suffered, her “friends” disappeared. The final straw came when she showed some guests a device she’d set up between the hall door and her bedroom door that would allow her to trap something in that area without looking at it.
I have to admit, I was just as guilty of abandoning Deborah. The truth was that I blamed her, too, and it wasn’t easy to spend time with her when her only topic of conversation was something that I spent all my time trying to avoid. The atmosphere in her house didn’t help. Deborah’s parents’ marriage didn’t survive her dramatic shift in personality, and her mother’s drinking habit became so severe that Deborah’s father gained custody of all of her siblings when he left. Deborah herself refused to leave the town where Chantel had disappeared, and her psychiatrist convinced the judge to allow Deborah to stay with her mother. That house--once an inviting place full of the sights, smells, and sounds of a family living life to the fullest--soon felt abandoned. On the nights when Deborah’s mother would drunkenly wander the halls humming songs to herself, it even felt haunted.
By the time we were teenagers, Deborah and I barely saw each other. Since neither of us responded to visits or even phone calls, we had to have a different way of making contact. We met once a year, on the day of Chantel’s disappearance, in the parking lot of one of the warehouses where Chantel’s home once stood. It was a good location: outdoors, with plenty of warehouse workers around, and nowhere for anything to hide. We’d each bring a thermos of our favorite drink and circle the parking lot, talking about our lives. Or rather, I would try to talk about our lives, and Deborah would try to bring our conversation back to her obsession.
The “Knocking” (as we called it) happened to each of us a few times each year. Just as Chantel had warned us, it was sometimes longer or shorter, more intense or less, and seemingly random. The worst times were when we weren’t alone and had to somehow prevent other people--who were oblivious to the danger--from doing something so obvious as opening a door.
It happened to me when my family ordered pizza (a big deal for us) to celebrate the scholarship I’d earned. When the three sharp raps hit the door and my father stood to answer, I practically dove down the hallway, sliding on my socks. I stammered that the delivery boy was cute and I wanted some time to talk to him alone as I grabbed a handful of wrinkled dollars and closed the hallway door behind me. Behind me was the tiny, worn-out living room I’d always known. Beyond the other door...who knew. Eyes closed, I leaned my head against the cold surface of the door to listen.
I heard gibbering, ragged breaths on the other side. The worst part was that my closeness to the door made the breathing heavier and faster, like something was getting excited--or hungry.
The three taps came again, and I heard movement from the living room. With panic, I realized my parents were coming to see what was going on. I slid away from the front door and closed off the hallway.
“Turns out he’s a real asshole,” I whispered. “He’ll probably just keep knocking to get my attention. Let’s just ignore him, alright?” My father made a *get-the-shotgun* sort of movement, but I grabbed his arm. “He goes to my school, dad, okay? Come on. Don’t make a scene.”
We sat awkwardly in the living room around the T.V. while the tapping droned on. When it stopped, we all let out a breath of relief...until it resumed again with a different beat.
“That’s it!” my father bellowed, pushing himself out of his rocking chair and lurching toward the front door.
“Dad NO!” I shouted. It was too late to intercept him. My father flung open the apartment door, terrifying the middle-aged pizza delivery woman waiting with our order. Confused and embarrassed, my father handed over the cash I’d dropped and mumbled an apology as he accepted our pizza. When the woman left, he gave me a long, hard look.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” My father sighed.
Something was different about Deborah when we met that June, the year I turned eighteen. I was going away to college the next fall. I wasn’t sure what Deborah was doing after school. Each time I saw her, she looked a little more gaunt, a little more weary, a little more...faded. The sleeves of her hoodie were pulled down to her chipped, black-painted fingernails, and she kept touching her hair. The pink dye had almost faded, and each strand was cobweb-thin. What made me nervous, though, was the white SUV with glittering rims and blacked-out windows that had dropped her off and was still waiting for her, bass humming, like a huge mechanical shark. When I asked Deborah what she’d been up to, her answers were scattered and vague. She couldn’t give a clear account of where she’d been or what she’d been doing. The conversation died quickly, and with a nervous glance at the rumbling SUV, she turned to go. I reached out to stop her--suddenly sure that if she got in I’d never see her again--but she slipped through my grasp. As she did, she shoved something into my chest hard enough to make me stumble and muttered “This is for you.”
Whatever it was, it was heavy and square, wrapped in layer after layer of protective plastic bags. I sat in my car, sadly watching the white SUV pull away as I opened Deborah’s package. Inside were letters. She’d been writing to Chantel’s mother in prison almost weekly, and these were the responses. Tears welling up in my eyes, I jammed my car into gear. Deborah was in trouble. I HAD to find that white SUV!
I thought I saw it turn left--that would make sense, it was the highway back toward town--but I grew more and more panicked as the SUV failed to appear. I merged onto the highway and stepped on the pedal until my secondhand Honda literally shook. When the speedometer passed 95, I finally saw it, idling along in the right lane like the driver wasn’t in any hurry. I lined up a few cars behind and followed.
The white SUV took a lazy path to a rundown side of town--an area that boomed back when railroad was king. Now old corrals and paper mills rusted beside weed-covered tracks. It was a place where you ended up, not where you went on purpose. The SUV came to a stop behind a corrugated metal wall, and I stopped just before going around the corner. All I could do was hope whoever was driving Deborah around hadn’t heard my squealing brakes.
A tanned, muscular man in a snow-white suit and tie got out of the SUV and opened the rear door for Deborah and two other men wearing basketball jerseys and wraparound sunglasses. Next to these three, Deborah looked like a strong wind could blow her away. The odd group headed off in a triangle formation with Deborah in the middle. I was still trying to tell myself to go home, that this was none of my business, when one man lifted up his jersey to scratch his sweating back, and I saw a nickel-plated pistol stuffed into the top of his pants. I had no choice now. Unable to decide whether to try to be stealthy or act natural, I half-walked, half-crept through the tick-infested weeds along the dilapidated metal wall. Inside, I could hear the whirr of fans struggling against the humidity and the static buzz of AV equipment being checked. A heavy door slammed, and I peered around the corner. As far as I could tell, my route to the door was completely clear: there was no one to catch me, or to call to for help. I rushed up to the door, shoved it open--I knew better than to knock--and burst into the building.
Seven faces spun to gawk at me, all of them surprised--Deborah most of all. Two of the men had clearly reached for weapons, but it was the man in the snow-white suit who spoke.
“Who are you?” he asked bluntly.
I took a look around. Little drywall structures--bathrooms, offices, storerooms--lined the inside of the otherwise derelict structure. The part nearest to me had stage lighting and a microphone boom as well, like some sort of film set. The fake bedroom, plastic wrapped mattress, handcuff-lined bedframe, and Deborah’s wardrobe indicated the nature of the film. Deborah had stripped down to her bra and panties, and for the first time I saw how thin she was. She wasn’t fast enough to cover the bruises and the track marks on her arms and legs.
“I’m, uh…” I stammered. “I’m the other girl. For the shoot.” The man in the white suit studied me skeptically. He had a cherry lollipop in his mouth, which shifted from one side to the other when he spoke.
“Kevin didn’t say nuthin’ about no other girl.”
“It’s kind of a last minute thing.” I gave him a big smile. The crew looked at each other and shrugged. The man in the white suit gave me another once-over. He rolled his eyes.
“Fine.” He grunted, and chomped the red lollipop into pieces, saliva running down his chin like blood. “Go get changed. And, uh, you might wanna loosen up. If you signed an agreement like she did, anything goes.”
“My friend is just gonna help me for a minute,” I smiled again, and grabbed Deborah’s hand to pull her toward the restroom. I ignored the look on her face until we were inside the tiny drywall bathroom with the door closed. We both started whispering and shoving each other at once. As usual, it was Deborah who won out, despite her weakened condition.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” She hissed. “You have no idea what these people are capable of!”
“Why didn’t you tell me about all this sooner?!” I cried, pointing at a needle mark.
“You didn’t exactly make yourself available.” Deborah responded coldly. “But don’t feel bad. This is what I deserve. But I never wanted you to be a part of it.”
“No! Don’t say that, don’t…” I took a deep breath and dialed a number on the phone in my pocket. “Look, it’ll be alright. I’ve called the police, and--”
“Are you crazy?!” The cheap wall shook as Deborah pushed me against it. “Those guys will break this door down a long time before the cops show up, and when they see that you’ve called--”
Something pounded on the bathroom door and we both jumped. It sounded like the butt of a pistol. A gruff voice told us to hurry up. In the area outside, I could hear the man in the white suit telling the others what he wanted them to do to us, and how to make the best camera angle while doing it. I searched desperately for a weapon, but there was nothing, not even a toothbrush or a towel rack that could be ripped out of the wall. Deborah just held herself, resigned. It was only a matter of time before they unlocked or kicked down the door, then dragged us out by force.
I hugged Deborah. I didn’t know what else to do. I felt her sick, damp, ragged breaths on my neck, and knew that I should have taken care of her like this from the beginning. Like it or not, what happened to Chantel had bound us together, no matter what.
A few minutes later, the conversation stopped, and I wondered if I was really hearing what I thought I was hearing from the abandoned building’s outside door.
“Oh, what the fuck is it now?!” I heard the man in the white suit groan. “Fuck off, we’re busy.” *ding-dong.* There was no way this broken-down rat-trap had a doorbell, but we heard it nevertheless, getting louder each time. *DING-DONG. DING-* “Xavier, take care of it.” The man in the white suit snarled.
“Got it, boss.” Xavier boomed in a deep Louisiana drawl. I heard the sound of a handgun slide and a peephole sliding open. Then silence.
“Xavier?” The man in the white suit murmured, “Xavier, man, you okay? What’s out there?” No response. “Xavier!” came an angry order. Then a gunshot, and a clamor of voices:
“OH MY GAWD HE KILLED HIMSELF! HE SHOT HIMSELF IN THE HEAD WHAT THE FUCK, IN THE HEAD WHY HE DO THA--”
“Everybody calm down!” I heard the man in the white suit roar. Heavy breathing. Weapons being readied. Knock. Knock. Knock.
No one moved. No one wanted to be the first, to face what was out there. Chantel, an 11-year-old girl, had been braver than all of them. I heard a meaty, slopping sound, like something wet lifting itself off the ground.
“It’s alright.” said a friendly voice. It had a deep, booming Louisiana drawl, and the air wheezed through a bullet-hole in its jaw as it spoke. “It’s alright. You can let us in.”
The lights went out. Screams. Gunshots. The main door to the building flew open. I blocked the bathroom door with my body, and Deborah and I clutched each other tightly in the dark, just as we had seven years ago.
The officers who arrived twenty minutes later were a bit uncomfortable having to batter down the bathroom door (rather than me opening it), but they complied. There was no blood, no gore, no signs of violence except for a few stray bullet holes in the walls. Given our history, I knew how our story would sound without evidence to back it up. Fortunately, Deborah was lucid enough (despite the drugs) to give the right amount of detail about what she’d been going through. One older officer coiled his moustache disbelievingly as he listened, and when the others moved away, he leaned in close.
“Yous the girls from that disappearance seven years ago, yeah?”
“Yeah…” I nodded, a knot forming in my stomach. His mouth twisted. It was the expression of a person too cynical to smile.
“Y’know, if I was to give some advice, in a strictly-non-professional capacity..” The officer let his aviator glasses slide down his beaky nose and gave us both a cold blue-eyed glare. “I’d say yous might want to think about leaving town for good.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I smiled, and squeezed Deborah’s hand.
After rehab, Deborah moved to the town where I attend college. At first I thought that with my scholarship, I’d only be able to afford to live in the dorms, but things worked out quite differently. When Deborah’s father heard about all that had happened, he was happy to help pay for an apartment where his daughter could get back on her feet. We’re roommates now, and although we haven’t heard any mysterious knocking lately, we still keep our own rules--and our own keys.
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2021.06.14 15:29 Apprehensive_Work_94 Thoughts ?
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2021.06.14 15:29 Narumia the big laugh
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2021.06.14 15:29 benorospucocuguyumm Ben orospu çocuğuyum
2021.06.14 15:29 connorhilt0n Fitbit Versa - swim/shower safe?
I've had my Fitbit Versa for almost 2 years now and even though all of the packaging materials say it's water resistant and I can swim with it (there's even a workout tracking mode for swimming) I am terrified of wearing it in the pool/shower.
Do you swim/shower with yours? Have you had any issues doing so?
submitted by connorhilt0n to fitbit [link] [comments]