Something I’ve learned after being in the dating scene for a while, and later being in a serious relationship with my boyfriend now, is that sex talk is very personalized. Pastor Rick Warren, author of "The Purpose-Driven Life," reflects on his own crisis of purpose in the wake of his book's wild success. He explains his belief that God's intention is for each of us to use our talents and influence to do good. You need to have a real passion for what you are doing and the decisions you are making for these decisions to be worth it. 6. Give respect to others and love to your friends and family. Try your hand at computer programming with Creative Coding! Learn how you can get access to hundreds of topic-specific coding projects. Already have an individual account with Creative Coding? Log in now. Check your students' knowledge and unleash their imaginations with Creative Coding projects.
2021.10.22 16:59 Peekochu What's something you learned about the world from your partner?
2021.10.22 16:59 Caveman_man Tattoo artists that do Old English Writing?
2021.10.22 16:59 DustWorlds Eden world of Mercury pictured with the forge moon of Ceres orbiting in front. (US2)
|submitted by DustWorlds to gaming [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 No-Energy2718 Joining Clients/Servers to Domain - AZ-800 - Episode 6
|submitted by No-Energy2718 to computers [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 liro_u Need a 3d map for my game - plz help me 🙏
I search for a website or just for a map /world in 3d in an anim style for my game, all the project is done except the world because I have no talent in 3d 😅 so if you know a website or someone who is ready to collaborate or to send me a world plz contact me
(need a flat world for figth with some details around the war zone) but more detail by msg if you are interest
submitted by liro_u to unrealengine [link] [comments]
2021.10.22 16:59 Guncaster Dogs of War
This story is mainly being published on RoyalRoad.
It's also hundreds of thousands of words and entire arcs ahead on there.
With caution and curiosity Zelsys walked down the hill, looking to and fro to get a bearing on her surroundings. As quickly as she began walking she stopped, captivated by the sight at her back. Far off in the distance, a great wall of dark stone reached into the sky and past the clouds, its scope so grand that she couldn’t even estimate how far away it was, just that its base was past the horizon. It stretched off far into the horizon in both directions, a barely-noticeable concave bend to its shape.
The wind picked up again, it's cold bite snapping her out of it. “Fuckin’ cold…” she muttered, holding the rough fabric of her makeshift cloak close as she made her way further down the hill and towards the dead forest. The trees were not just dead, they were twisted and deformed, gnarled and intertwined in a way that made it difficult to find a clear path. Even so, she pushed through the gnarled wood, the dead roots rough enough that slipping wasn’t a concern. Minutes turned to hours as she walked, and walked, and walked, until eventually she reached an intersection of trees too dense to walk between.
Presented with the options to go back or go over she chose the latter, taking a breath and lowering herself in preparation to attempt a jump high enough to reach a branch. The silver markings on her legs briefly shone and let off silvery wisps before she jumped. A sharp exhalation, dry wood shattering underfoot and ropes of Fog trailing from the corners of her mouth as she ascended, reaching for a branch. As thick as the branch was it strained and creaked under her weight, a loud crack echoing and wood dust flying when she pulled herself up into the tree.
“Should’ve done that earlier,” she thought, looking out over the dead forest. There was a narrow but clearly visible footpath only a few dozen meters away, just about visible from where she was. She sat in the tree for a short time while she plotted a course towards it through the treetops. Inhale air. Exhale Fog. Jump.
Branches shaking and creaking, the tree she landed on threatened to collapse under her weight, then shattered into kindling when she jumped to the next one. Inhale air, exhale Fog. Jump.
Another tree. Another breath. Zelsys left a trail of broken trees in her wake as she traversed towards her goal, the path. As she neared the path, the sound of people talking grabbed her attention. She finally jumped off onto the dry dirt path, only to feel something briefly yank on her waist as she fell, accompanied by the sound of a branch creaking - the bandage by which she had tied the Tablet got snagged, and by some obnoxious miracle the branch didn’t break, the Tablet hanging out of the tree, having partially slipped out of its wrapping.
She grumbled as she jumped and grabbed it by the exposed portion, and it slipped out of the bandage with little resistance. With a relieved sigh, she turned her gaze in the direction she had heard human voices from, which had now become quieter and were accompanied by three pairs of approaching footsteps. Assuming they had heard her, she walked towards them.
Past one of the many bends of the path she saw them, and they saw her. Two men and a woman. Zelsys immediately assigned them nicknames to better remember them by, based on the first of their features she noticed when she scanned them.
Leading the trio, the man in front grasped a single-edged longblade in one hand and a large glass bottle in the other. It was partially covered in paper talismans and had a piece of cord tying it to his wrist, light-green liquid swirling in the bottom half. She could tell that under all the filth and stubble his skin was white as snow, his hair short and black as coal, his face angular and rough. The way he held himself and his sword made it look like it was just an extension of his arm. The Swordsman.
The two by his side clutched long guns with rust-speckled barrels - the second man’s gun even had a long crack spidering down its stock from the muzzle to the trigger-guard, meticulously-wrapped copper wire holding it together. He kept it trained at Zelsys’ center of mass, one eye twitching and lip trembling so strongly it was visible even through the wiry, dark brown bush of his beard, which was so imposing Zelsys couldn’t help but wonder if he was compensating for the utter lack of any hair on the top of his head. The Wire.
In contrast the woman’s demeanor was far more relaxed, as she didn’t even bother to shoulder her gun, instead just holding it at the ready. Platinum blonde hair, skin just as pale as the other two, and a green eye with two pupils as the centerpiece of her face, the left eye closed shut. From this angle, Zelsys could tell that her gun had no visible loading mechanism. “A muzzle-loader?” she wondered. A strange mask hung around the woman's neck, a tube running from it to some sort of canister on her belt. Spliteye.
The three of them wore identical, filthy uniforms, a lush green hidden under uncountable layers of dirt, and their feet bore armor-plated, knee-high boots, the soles worn down to almost nothing. Thick chest-plates shielded their torsos, the frontmost man’s one covered in dimples and trios of gashes while the other two’s were just dirty and battered in general.
“Id-id-identif-if-ifuh cherself!” Wire barked through his beard, stuttering and slurring his words as if he was in a rush to finish speaking. His eyes jumped all over, from her face, to her left arm, to the Tablet in her hand, and still, he kept his gun aimed dead-straight at her center of mass. The Swordsman raised the bottle to his mouth, pulled the cork out with his teeth, and took a short swig of the greenish liquid, then put the cork back in. A couple drops of the liquid clung to the stubble of his chin, evaporating into barely-visible wisps of emerald-green Fog as he spoke - slowly, deliberately, calmly. Carefully.
“Now… I won’t ask who you were on the outside, ‘cause it’s frankly better if we don’t know,” he said, gesturing with his sword as punctuation. “I also won’t ask where all your gear is, or why you’ve come to this Exclusion Zone.”
“So you’re the leader, huh?” Zelsys asked, a cocky grin spreading over her face. Even without the context necessary to understand her situation, she couldn’t help but feel amused by the trio.
The Swordsman gave a slow nod, raising the bottle again as he begrudgingly admitted “Only ‘cause I’m the only one with a good enough Aether to distill Viriditas,” swirling it around for punctuation. The inside of the glass fogged up as some of the liquid turned to green Fog and immediately condensed back to liquid, Wire’s right eye twitching towards the bottle as the Swordsman lowered it back down, while he grumbled into his beard. “Viriditas. So that’s what they call it,” she thought.
“That bein’ said, yer clearly in some deep shit if that’s what you’re wearing, look like one o’ the occupiers. So tell me. What can you offer up if we help you get outta here? And trust me, you’ll need our help to get outta here.”
Putting together the context clues as she went, she slowly raised the Tablet. The Swordsman narrowed his eyes as he tried to get a better look at it. He looked into Zelsys’ eyes, back at the tablet, then back at her, blinking a couple times, a mixture of disbelief and faint hope serving to soften his features, if only a bit.
Spliteye and Wire turned to look at him, both confused by the crack in his otherwise calm demeanor. Wire’s confusion was complete and genuine, whereas Spliteye clearly understood something about the situation that Zelsys didn’t, her eye and voice both shuddering as she whispered “This could be our ticket out of this shithole.”
A brief smile crossed the Swordsman’s face, he nodded, and turned to begin walking away, sheathing his sword as he used the bottle to gesture for Zelsys to follow, which she did gladly, albeit cautiously. Spliteye followed closely behind him and Wire just stood there, waiting for Zelsys to catch up, his gun still trained on her. He grew more and more twitchy the closer she got, the muzzle of his rifle noticeably trembling as she passed him. He stood there, waiting to follow until she had caught up with Spliteye. Far enough that he thought he could shoot her in the back faster than she could reach him, if it came to that.
Zelsys noticed Spliteye's gun shake slightly as she approached to walk beside her, the creak of leather gloves betraying an otherwise relaxed posture. A mischievous spark made her want to place the Tablet atop the blonde’s head and use it to measure just how much taller she was, but the mental image was sufficient. For a while the four of them walked down the trail in silence, the Swordsman giving the occasional backwards glances, whilst Spliteye downright stared when she thought Zelsys wasn’t looking. An hour, perhaps two - it wasn’t easy to tell in the monotonous quagmire of this place. The only measure of how far from the living forest’s edge they were was the size, shape, and density of the trees - the closer they got, the more the forest around them turned from a maze of dead wood to something actually reminiscent of a dead forest, though the treeline was still all too dense to see more than a few paces off the footpath.
At some point, Spliteye finally piped up.
“We’re not war criminals, if... That’s what you were thinking,” she said, audibly weighing each word as she spoke it. The foreign inner voice flashed in Zelsys’s head again in response. “Probably the survivors of some lost company,” it said.
“I don’t care,” she lied. “I just need to get out of here.”
Spliteye fell silent at that, seemingly content with such an answer. Once more, the four walked in cautious silence, with only the howling of the winds and the creaking of dead wood to keep them company. They eventually reached the living portion of the forest, the sound of rustling leaves overwhelming the creaking of dead wood. The living forest’s border was outlined by rune-etched marble stones half as tall as her spaced some twenty paces apart. Much like the forest, even the stones themselves were split down the middle - visibly decayed on the dead side of the forest, with the runes nearly worn away on those she could see, while the halves on the living side were overgrown with moss.
They walked alongside the border until the path led them to a gap in it, a stone that had seemingly been shattered into pieces, or perhaps chipped away. The plants around the gap were either completely dead or visibly dying, as if the death of the other side was actively spilling through. They passed over the broken barrier-stone, following the footpath for a few more minutes into the forest as it began to get noticeably dark.
The smell of Viriditas and the sound of bubbling liquid echoed through the trees as the Swordsman disappeared past a sharp left turn, Spliteye walking ahead to join him. Zelsys emerged into a clearing amidst the trees, its centerpiece a large vehicle with two deflated front wheels and broken, rusted tracks, small shrubs growing through the gaps. The transport’s back door had been repurposed as a table stood atop some lumber next to the vehicle, a tarp stretched from between three trees to cover it. There was also a deep firepit with three rounds of lumber placed around it as seating, a makeshift metal grill placed atop the pit itself, on which there sat a large copper pot with some sort of soup bubbling within. However, something else drew Zelsys’ attention.
It was a metal pipe that led from amidst the embers of the firepit to what Zelsys recognized as a repurposed Fog Engine, atop which there sat a befuddling tangle of rune-etched flasks and tubes, held together with wire and pieces of scrap metal. There were two fragments clearly taken from the shattered barrier-stone suspended in the tangle, apparently somehow involved in condensing Viriditas, which ran down the stones and into a tube that led into a half-full bottle on the ground. As Zelsys tried to work out why the engine was involved in this setup, she noticed a number of roughly-welded pipes that led from its exhaust ports to just below a flask, serving as burners to heat its contents of vile, rotting meat, black Fog roiling above it.
“Putrid meat?” Zelsys blurted out, furrowing her brow and tilting her head as she tried to grasp what exactly was going on with the alchemic apparatus. It was clearly multi-purpose, as less than a third of it seemed to be in use, though she didn’t quite understand why rotting meat was being used to produce Viriditas.
The Swordsman - who she didn’t notice had disappeared - stepped out of the transport, no longer wearing his chest-plate and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, green Fog rising from his nostrils, intricate tattoos composed of alchemical symbols covering his forearms from the wrists to the elbows. “It was supposed to be an alkahestry setup, at one point,” he said as he walked towards the alchemic abomination with pride evident in his gait. “Figured out the barrier-stones can turn Nigredo into Viriditas even when in pieces, so I’ve been usin’ it to make loads of the stuff since… As long as we’ve been here, really.”
“Black Fog comes from rotting meat and it’s called Nigredo. Got it,” Zelsys thought, making a mental note of this fact.
“Couple’o months. Four, six, eight. Can’t remember...” Wire muttered from behind, still standing behind Zelsys with his gun pointed at her back. His demeanor was still twitchy and cautious, but he spoke with surprising lucidity. His right eye twitched towards the Swordsman, and he let out a wordless grunt.
With a clap of his hands, the Swordsman replied “Right, gotta purge your system,” as he approached his bearded compatriot. Her curiosity drawn to the scene, Zelsys felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Spliteye, subtly nodding towards the transport vehicle. “Let’s see if we can find some spare clothes that fit,” she said, the implication of something else loud and clear in the way she said it. Zelsys gave a smile and a nod, following after the blonde and watching what the Swordsman was doing out of the corner of her eye. Wire’s gun tracked her with unerring accuracy, yet his eyes looked to the Swordsman.
As she passed by the vehicle, Zelsys took note of what its door was really used for - it was covered in dried blood and fragments of bone, a cleaver of prodigious size sat atop it. It was matte-black with a silver shine to its edge, and somehow the only thing on that door-table that was completely clean of blood. She couldn’t tear her eyes off it until she walked into the transport and its wall did it for her, and she immediately scanned her new surroundings out of instinct.
Where she had expected a cramped and filthy arrangement of as many seats as could fit, she was met with a mostly complete living space for four people - two bunk beds, metal lockers, even a sink, whose faucet connected to an exposed pipe which in turn led to a caged slot in the wall containing a dull-grey gemstone, the word “Aqua” stenciled in blocky blue letters above it. Under the sink, there were five large and eight smaller seal-covered bottles full of pale-green Viriditas, some still bearing barely-legible labels like “Kaiser Pilsner”. Next to them stood two large and five small empty ones, some bearing fresh seals, some plain, and one covered in so many old seals that it was completely opaque. It was corked shut, so perhaps it wasn’t empty.
Modifications to make it more spacious had clearly been done, but even in its default configuration it must’ve been at least bearable. Spliteye opened one of the lockers, its hinges creaking almost loud enough to conceal a pained grunt from Wire.
“What’s up with the bald one?” she asked, watching as Spliteye pulled several things out of the locker, placing them on the lower right bunk. Steel-toed, armored knee-high boots, a pair of trousers, a pair of armored bracers, and several belts of varying sizes. The blonde sighed at the question, looking out the door, then at Zelsys, remaining silent until there came another pained grunt, a quieter one this time. “Rubedo Sickness,” she said. Before Zelsys could ask what that was, the Swordsman’s voice interrupted her thought process.
“Purgation Arts: Rubedo Dissolution!” he exclaimed. Wire’s voice was heard immediately after, but instead of a yell or a grunt it was a very, very long wheeze, as if a large quantity of something gaseous was being expelled out of his mouth - not unlike a deflating balloon.
Spliteye remained silent, letting the sound ring out for a few seconds before she stood up with a sigh, shutting the locker. “Take your pick,” she said with a light gesture at the items laid out as they were, adding on “Feel free to use the bunk as well.” as she passed Zelsys on the way out.
submitted by Guncaster to HFY [link] [comments]
2021.10.22 16:59 Onlyheretoreplylol Do you guys want me to die?
2021.10.22 16:59 G3ntl3man001 Tired after his first day in his new home. Meet Mac.
|submitted by G3ntl3man001 to labrador [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 DrNateH Alberta public inquiry finds no wrongdoing in anti-oilsands campaign | Global News
|submitted by DrNateH to CanadianConservative [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 krakhis What do you call a short mom?
2021.10.22 16:59 Far-Chef-982 [FREE] Freddie Gibbs x Madlib x Roc Marciano Type Beat "Survival", any kind of support ❤️🙏
|submitted by Far-Chef-982 to SelfPromotionYouTube [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 jasminkkpp Ginny (16) enjoying autumn before the cold dark winter
|submitted by jasminkkpp to OldManDog [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 No_Complaint739 Mfs I have to make stuff up to win the war
2021.10.22 16:59 Enough_Green_8016 EB3 Approved
2021.10.22 16:59 MathPhysicsEngineer Deriving the equation for the shape of water flowing from the faucet.
|submitted by MathPhysicsEngineer to mathvideos [link] [comments]|
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submitted by Straight_Subject710 to CryptoMoonCoins [link] [comments]
2021.10.22 16:59 mahmoudelmaghraby999 تحميل لعبة Tumblebugs 1 كاملة مجانا للكمبيوتر
|submitted by mahmoudelmaghraby999 to migagamesnet [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 Baitsch I had to google in incognito to make this
|submitted by Baitsch to memes [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 badtradesguy If you can live at home do it. If you can endure sharing a small space with a few people do it.
We see on PFC a lot of dual income high earners posting success stories or just single power earners doing quite well.
So I thought id share my story which might be a bit more relatable.
My partner and I, our dual income for the last 10 years has been about 75k. Quite low. This was a combination of jumping around entry positions, getting laid off, unpaid leave of absences etc.
Thankfully in the last 3 years my job pays 80k. However the kicker is my spouse has been a stahm for the last 4 years. So not much change.
Today we own a house and have a networth of about 450k. 1/3 of this from a house and 2/3 are investments. i didnt get a crazy run up in housing or a unicorn investment like amazon.
What helped us get ahead was our choices of living situations and recognizing what options we had. We were fortunate enough to live at home. the savings here was strictly rent. we paid for everything else. We lived frugally but still got to enjoy our lives.
If you dont have that luxury to live at home, the. choose to live with as many room mates as you can tolerate.
Recognize the situation you are in and the options available. Make the most prudent one.
thanks for reading!
submitted by badtradesguy to PersonalFinanceCanada [link] [comments]
2021.10.22 16:59 slashy_washy someone help me
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submitted by Inner_Ad_4899 to cryptostreetbets [link] [comments]
2021.10.22 16:59 BDawgJackson Cuffs
|submitted by BDawgJackson to EkaterinaVyrshilova [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 ElSenorDeLasPajas Nashla Aguilar
|submitted by ElSenorDeLasPajas to FamousLatinas [link] [comments]|
2021.10.22 16:59 rstiltskinned Being a shift makes me anxious af
Hey there, bit of a vent as well as a plea for advice. So I recently was given a shift permission which I accepted with great reluctance, mostly because I knew the only other candidate would be a dumpster fire of a shift.
I have numerical dyslexia (as in my head switches numbers so for example I read 45 as 54) which I have told my manager and fellow shifts abt. Recently, our numbers have been off a lot when I count tills, even after I double check everything. Some of my coworkers have suggested it's because of my issue with numbers but?? Even our money counting machine counts the same amounts as me.
Fellow shifts, any advice on making counting easier? Anyone here struggling with the same?
submitted by rstiltskinned to starbucks [link] [comments]
2021.10.22 16:59 MomButtsDriveMeNuts RECKLESS UH SPECULATION
Anyone else feel like the show is constantly mailing it in now? It’s been 4 months since FreeDumb and I’ve really been trying to let the show breathe. And I think I’m onto the reason why. Dan’s leniency and being a friend before being a boss is costing the show. Giving people unlimited time off is great as an employee, but at ESPN they would go weeks, if not months of anyone missing a show. Maybe it’s just me, but I’ll just type my rant now to get out what I think. Love to hear other people’s insight.
But wasn’t the thing that football season is a big deal? That’s why Dan took his vacation immediately beforehand. But Stu is missing shows every other week, Mike is also constantly traveling and is going on a trip and so he isn’t in studio to produce and he’s still the best at it. The shipping container is just a rotation of who’s in and who’s out, it’s a rarity now when everyone is in at the same time. Everyone’s disconnected from each other, no ones in a groove. It seems like it’s never THE SHOW anymore with everyone going off of each other.
Then they made a big deal about the show being 5 days a week, but c’mon, it’s not. Friday shows are all prerecorded and jumbled together. Dan just skips out on segments entirely during a “regular” show day. They put “God Bless Football” in the show feed but it’s not THE show. Because Dan doesn’t have timed segments anymore interviews can take up an entire hour of show feed and he and the guest just ramble on. And good lord Chris Jericho, talk about beating a dead horse. I get it, he keeps beating Cowherd but Jesus the celebrity prognosticator segment is just awful now. Same old schtick week after week.
I don’t know, I’m not trying to come off as an old fogy talking about back in my day it used to be better, and Dan is always shrugging off people talking about how the show used to be better. maybe that’s how I am coming off, just curious if anyone thinks the same?
submitted by MomButtsDriveMeNuts to DanLeBatardShow [link] [comments]