2021.12.04 23:45 hihighanne I broke up with my after a spinal cord injury left him paralyzed from the waist down.
My ex bf had an accident about a year ago causing him to become wheel chair bound due to a spinal cord injury. The accident altered his personality and simply put we were no longer compatible. I got flack for breaking up with him ever since however, we were simply not compatible and ultimately it is my choice whether I want to be in a relationship with someone or not. The man I was with used to be with was athletic, fit and we could go hiking together. We bonded over physically strenuous activities. Afterwards he changed completely due to circumstances out of his control and I was not attracted to him. I don't feel guilty at all for leaving him but for some reason, people keep bringing him up and it just annoys me.
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2021.12.04 23:45 lewa514 Me_irl
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2021.12.04 23:45 photosynthesis194 Im interested in this guy, but Im not sure if he is also interested
I met this guy off of an app that was designed to meet people from around the world. I came across this one guy around the same age as me, and we got along really well. He and I had a pretty funny conversation. He said I was "chill and hella funny" and even offered his snap, instagram, AND phone number. At first I didnt know if I should add him outside of that app, but then he made the effort to come back to the app and tell me to follow him.
I added him on instagram, and he seemed like a chill guy. We exchanged photos, and he said I was "cute" which was out of the blue. He also told me he turned on his instagram notifications on for me, which I thought was sweet of him and made me feel like he genuinely liked talking to me. He also said this, which caught my attention: "I think its going pretty well, I don't know about you." I didnt know what he meant by that. Did he want a relationship, friendship, or something else? So I asked him, what he was looking for: a friendship or relationship? And he said he didn't want to answer that question. I don't know what that means.
He then told me that he doesnt use instagram that much and that I should add him on snapchat. He gave me his snapchat handle and everything. I told him that I don't trust him. And he said that I should add him when I "trust" him. For two days he didn't talk to me on ig. And I don't know why but I wanted to keep talking to him
So I added him on snapchat and he told me to talk through snaps so that we could both get the points. The first day, I was intimidated because it seemed like he was really popular with a snapscore of over 500k and it is really hard to have conversations on snapchat. But last night, he made the effort have an actual convo. Told me to ask him questions and stuff, so I did. He asked me things like what my favorite holiday was, what I like to do for fun, and how many body counts I had." That last question caught me off guard and was confused as to why he asked me that. But I answered and he also answeered it. He said he has only been in one intimate relationship.
He also asked me what my type is, so responded saying "smart, respectful, funny" Then he said "So what youre saying is IM YOUR TYPE." and I took it as a joke and teased him saying "You're smart???" and he started talking about how he is majoring in computer science and trying to become a software engineer.
I asked him if he is crushing on anyone, and he said no and forwarded the question back to me. I teased him again and said that I was crushing on some guy from class, and just responded with "Oh ok cool." which I don't know meant if he was jealous or didn't care.
He also said that I give off flirty vibes. I asked him how, and he responded saying that the way I word my sentences make me sound flirty. Which was new because no one ever told me that. I literally talk normally.
I told him I dont like using snapchat because its hard to remember what was previously said. He said "I agree but atleast I get to see your face." And I responded saying "Yeah i guess you win." and he responded back with "you win too cause you get to see me"
We talked for a couple hours about nothing and just joking and roasting e/o. Then, he made an inapproparite joke, which caught me off guard. He apologized immediately after and said it was just a joke. I told him "And you swore I was a fuck girl, look at you." and he replied saying "Look at me, it was just a joke."
But yea, I overall seem to like this guy and he is really funny and chill. But I'm wondering if he wants something from me, if he likes me, or if he just wants to be friends. What do you guys think?
submitted by photosynthesis194 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
2021.12.04 23:45 alti_kanat I started to make my first non-tutorial(not for learning) game. I created a small level for demo purposes. What do you think?
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2021.12.04 23:45 solopillow Dead By Daylight - 4 Killers I Survivor
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2021.12.04 23:45 Sushimadness What video game weapon are you best with?
2021.12.04 23:45 7lucky7stoner7 Selfie Saturday. 31.
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2021.12.04 23:45 Javii72 I'm stuck on this screen and I don't know how to get to the actual menu, please help
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2021.12.04 23:45 multiano_x Hand Drawn Cover Art for Nirvana Albums
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2021.12.04 23:45 ChickenSoup1189 New idea (I hope…)
I’m just getting into board games, and I want to design my own. Weird place to start I know, but long story short, I started to write a novel and realized I’d have more fun if it was a game to mix my passions.
Anyways, the basic idea is that you, the player, travel around the board collecting gladiators of various races, all with unique traits, skills and flavor. You will continue doing this, while collecting items, spells, mission objectives, and of course, battling to your opponent to weaken them.
Depending on how many turns your group decides to play, at the end of the adventure turns, the board is replaced with an arena, where you and the gladiators you’ve collected, along with their items, equipment and spells, face off against your opponent to win.
That’s the 100k foot view, but I’m wondering if this type of idea sounds familiar to anyone because 1) if it does, I’d like to play the game to 2) avoid copying anything specific while also inspiring new ideas for my game.
Any help would be awesome - thanks guys and gals!
submitted by ChickenSoup1189 to boardgames [link] [comments]
2021.12.04 23:45 yungirving99 Rec centers after graduation
2021.12.04 23:45 PerceptionRegular895 Why is the Subaru WRX STI rallycross so hard to control, and how can I control it better?
2021.12.04 23:45 bluebubblesky hypothetically
let’s say, i apply to a school. they say yeah, no. and then my January score is above their median or like better than my November score. would they reconsider lol? is that a thing
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2021.12.04 23:45 Kale_Complex Oneironaut part 1 - The Rust Belt
I was adrift, floating on a sea of nothingness as I had done so many nights before. The void was all encompassing, and despite knowing I lay perfectly still I could still feel myself rippling in its wake. I reached out, picturing my hand moving before me while it lay limp at my side. I slipped both of my arms away before myself up and out of my body without so much of a twitch in my muscles. I was proud at how far I'd come, how easily I could slip away now. Trust me it takes some serious practice to separate from your body on command. I began my journey through the void, heading towards the small pinprick of light in the distance. I willed myself to go faster and faster until the dot in the distance had grown into a gaping hole. I dove into it. A soft, white glow filled my vision as the floating sensation of the void was replaced with that of falling. I braced myself as the light began to recede, replaced by a hazy twilight and the smell of rust. Before I knew it, I'd fallen flat on my ass on the cold, corrugated iron of a catwalk. All around me, Pipes, conveyor belts, cables, and catwalks wound in and out of industrial husks and crumbling monoliths of production, dancing with each other above the endless voids between. Long abandoned machines still rumbled throughout the desolate expanse of concrete and steel. It seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, thick clouds of smog obscuring it's true size. I'd been to this section of the dreamscape a few times, never managing to find it's end nor any sign of habitation. It was an unremarkable, abandoned section of the collective unconscious, called the Rust Belt.
Most would simply find something sharp and wake themselves up if they dove in here, but I had a strange fondness for the Belt. It's empty factories, mashed together till their purpose became indecipherable, were ripe for exploration. The lack of anyone or anything, living or dead, was a plus too. I was honestly quite excited to spend another night lost in it's expanse. Crossing the catwalk, I passed through a vaulted door into a vast storeroom. Impossibly tall tanks flanked either side of the catwalk, the stickers that once revealed their contents long faded and peeled. a thin twilight pervaded the entire belt, leaving even the most closed up factories dimly lit. I found a ladder drilled into one of the rusted tanks and began my ascent. I decided that I'd try and reach the roof of the belt once again. I'd tried it a few times before but never once managed to escape the concrete jungle. By the time I'd reached the top of the tank, the catwalk had faded away into the fog. My palms were already coated in peeled paint and grease. I crossed from tank to tank, making my way towards a gash in the concrete ceiling. A thin light poured through it, just enough to be notable in the dim storeroom. The sound of my feet slapping against the metal carried an almost deafening echo in the stillness of the room. I wished I'd brought shoes but the only things you can carry into the dreamscape are what you fall asleep with, and in all honesty, sleeping with your shoes on is downright gross. Anyways, with some effort I pulled myself up through the gash, ending up in what looked like 3 different factories mangled together. Machines were fused unrecognizably, conveyor belts connected and ended at seemingly random, and walkways ran at impossible angles. The whole thing was making my head hurt. Clambering onto a belt, I continued my ascent. I traced its winding path, sometimes having to climb over fallen machines or rubble. The whole place was falling apart, seeming decades old at the very least. I had to squeeze myself between a set of rollers and jump to another belt when mine abruptly collapsed from under me. It became more and more cramped as I went up, the caverns slimming to caves of metal and rubber. The smell of oil and rust was overpowering. Some of the pipes that ran past me still had liquids flowing within, one of them nearly scorching me as it belched steam.
As I topped another belt slope, a cool breeze washed over me. The belt in front of me gave way to a gaping hole in the building. It was like some leviathan had come along and torn a chunk out of the factory. Pipes spilled water and oils endlessly into the gash, creating a sort of blackened waterfall down the side of the building. Across the gap, I could see the belt, as well as many others, resume once more. A set of half collapsed factories laid to my left, whatever catwalks or pipes that ran between now severed and bent downwards. I carefully pulled myself out of the belt's tunnel and onto a small concrete outcropping. I was sandwiched between the building and the murky water. In better news, the tear seemed to run all the way down from the roof of the building. I began my ascent once again, using exposed rebar and concrete rubble like a makeshift rockwall. It was far from sturdy, sometimes crumbling under my foot or snapping off at the slightest pressure. I had some experience though, and any fear of heights disappears quickly when you know you'll just wake up when you hit the ground. Not that the dreamscape isn't dangerous though, there are still plenty of ways you could get hurt, just not physically. There are stories out there about oneironauts falling into comas or going mad because of something they found in the collective unconscious. I've even heard rumors of people dying inexplicably after diving too deep, their brains simply shutting off in the night. Of course there's no actual evidence for any of this, in fact it's hard to prove anything when it comes to dream diving. Turns out an immaterial information based reality is really hard to document. Believing an urban legend or two is par for the course for oneironauts, but I digress.
The factory seemed to grow more modern the further up I went, rusted iron machines replaced by clean white plastics and electronics. Now I had the problem of avoiding the live wires that littered the gap, a nearly impossible feat. I powered through and a few shocks and near falls later, I had clambered my way onto the tower's roof. Chimneys and exhaust vents peppered the place, spilling out smokes of all colors into the thick smog that hung far above. Towering factories rose further still on every side, belts and catwalks entwined above me like a new ceiling. Taking a few minutes to catch my breathe, I noticed another sprawling factory that ended just below mine. It's roof was a labyrinth of vents and pipes, with a strange scrape running through it. Near the edge was the remains of a campfire. A few empty bottles and tins were scattered around it. I checked it out of course, nearly falling off a pipe as I crawled across the gap. The camp was recent, the coals of the fire still hot to the touch. A knife laid against a nearby pipe, as though it had been tossed aside while the person fled. Its edge was coated in dark, half-dried blood. A thin trail of it wound into maze of exhaust pipes, suddenly cut off by a straight path of carnage to the other end of the roof. It didn't take me long to put the pieces together. There was another oneironaut here with me, and something was chasing them. Now normally I'd avoid others, especially within the dreamscape, but this did seem to be an emergency. I swallowed my fears and decided to try and find them.
I started down the rather convenient path of destruction. It was like a great talon had scraped clean across the roof. Metal laid twisted and bent beyond recognition, rubber was cut to ribbons, water and steam gushed from slashed pipes, and smokestacks were toppled and crushed into heaps. I take back what I said about the path's convenience, it was hard to take a single step without getting cut or snagged on the jagged remains of some forgotten hulk. Once again wishing I had brought shoes, I made my way carefully down the scar. I'd never heard of anything like this being found in the Rust Belt. Even when buildings collapse onto each other, the most exciting thing you could possibly find here, the destruction was never this precise. it was perfectly straight, running all way to the edge of the building. It was strange, but seeing as anything could happen in the dreamscape, I brushed it off as just another oddity in an already odd place. the scar itself seemed to lead to a catwalk, though all that remained of it now dipped straight down into the abyss. It took me a while to find a catwalk in the same direction, but after a few detours I made it across and found the other end of the broken catwalk. The blood trail picked up again here and since it was only a matter of time until my alarm woke me up, I hurried after it. This roof was much sparser than the last, though it's few exhausts spilled a putrid lilac smoke that hung in dense clouds across the floor. I sprinted through it, trying my hardest to hold my breathe. The smoke stung my eyes and tingled my skin, like I was being poked with ice-cold needles. I had to practically peel my eyes open to keep following the blood trail. I burst out of the smoke and onto another catwalk. This one was a lot longer than the others, wrapping around a few buildings before running straight through a broken window into a cavernous storage space. Here, shipping containers were stacked unfathomably high, any semblance of balance or structure forgotten in their race to a ceiling they'd never reach. Automated cranes brought more crates in from the depths of the Belt, dumping them haphazardly into the piles. Beneath the din of the cranes and the crash of the falling containers, I swore I could hear something else making its way across the pile. The blood trail grew thinner as I wound my way along the catwalk. By the time I reached the building's end, it had become nothing more than the occasional droplet. To my surprise though, these drops were still warm. The Oneironaut must be close.
The catwalk continued out through a hole in the wall before diving into a nearby factory. The sound of clattering metal echoed out from it's depths. I pulled open another thick metal door and entered, finding myself on a cluttered factory floor. Rusted out cars liad forgotten on assembly lines, concealed by hoses hanging like curtains from the ceiling. welders, cranes, and other machines I honestly can't name were scattered about the unfinished cars. In a clearing between the belts was a backpack, it's contents strewn across the floor as it's owner undoubtably hurried to patch their wounds. Rations, bandages, and jugs of water littered the ground. This person must've been on a deep dive. Amidst the garbage though, laid a leather bound journal. Curiously, I picked it up and started to flip through the pages. It was mostly incomprehensible rambling about urban legends, the dreamscape, and their personal discoveries all in almost unreadable handwriting. The last few pages started to go off the rails, the handwriting becoming shakier with rough sketches of strange creatures and places to complement them. The last page was just a single sentence, written massively and carved so deep into the paper that it was imprinted on the back cover. DO DEAD GODS DREAM. Seemed this guy had already gone mad. There was a crash nearby so I pocketed the journal and moved to investigate. I picked up a nice heavy pipe as I moved forward. Footsteps echoed out in the distance, getting closer and closer. Then, out from behind some rusted hulk of machines, a man came running full sprint. He was an older guy, with a thick beard, balding head, and pale, papery skin. His left hand was hastily wrapped in bandages. His eyes were jittering madly as he ran. It wasn't madness painted across his face though, it was fear. His mouth hung agape and he wheezed with every frantic step. More footsteps came from behind him, these ones booming like they cracked the concrete with each step. It turned the corner right after him, and it definitely wasn't human. It was like a man's torso, bent backwards and walking on stilt-like legs twice my height. It had no head nor arms, instead it's chest was split open down the middle. Black, metallic tentacles snaked out from within the tear. Its skin was dark and oily, shimmering in the half-light. The man looked back in horror before tripping over a hose on the ground and falling face first onto the concrete. He turned over onto his back and screamed. A tentacle shot out from the thing, piercing him straight through the mouth. His screams turned to gargles as it lifted him into the air. I was frozen in place, trying my best to stay silent and hoping it wouldn't notice me. The thing brought the man up to its chest and the tendrils began to wrap around him. They took him into it's body before the tear closed tightly behind them. It squatted down, it's stick-like legs seeming to bend wherever they pleased. I started slowly backing away. It's dark skin began to roll and boil. It's body distorted and rumbled as a noise like meat frying in mud filled the factory. The legs retracted into the thing as it turned into a mass of fleshy goop on the floor. For a moment, everything was silent. I contemplated running away but It quickly started to change again, this time pulling itself into the shape of a man. Its skin began to take on color as muscles mended and bones snapped into place. Within minutes, the thing stood up looking exactly like the man it had just eaten. His terrified expression had gone blank and his hollow eyes scanned the room. They inevitably landed on me. I gripped my pipe tighter as it took a few unsteady steps towards me. It jolted forward, reaching out to grab me. I was faster though. There was a nasty crunch as I buried my pipe into the thing's skull. It was flung back, landing in a heap a few feet away. To my surprise, it just got right back up. Half of its face was smashed in, an eyeball hanging out of its socket. A gurgle rose up from deep inside it's throat. It titled back, looking like it was about to fall over when a tentacle shot out of its mouth. More quickly followed, unhinging his jaw and pulling it unnaturally wide. They stabbed into the ground, lifting him into the air and looking like some malformed spider. This was the point I started running. I vaulted over a belt and tried to lose it in the maze of machinery. I could hear it smashing through equipment and cars as it chased after me. There was no way I was going to outrun this thing. I turned to my next option, glancing around the factory as I ran looking for anything sharp. It was closing in on me. I could hear its tendrils piercing concrete and slashing through steel as it moved. Running past a wrecked car, I scooped a piece of broken glass off the ground. Without a second thought, I plunged the shard straight into my palm. White hot pain shot up my arm and I let it wash over me, let it drown out everything. The world went black.
I shot up in bed, clutching my burning palm. I'd made it out just in time. The phantom pains in my hand were going to last a while though, the price of taking the quick way out. As I pulled myself out of bed, I felt something fall from my back pocket. It was the madman's journal. The scribbles were all the same and everything. It was strange, the whole thing was strange. A dream entity mimicking a person wasn't unheard but the way this thing moved and acted. It was like it took control over him. I was hesitant to post about it, thought maybe I was overreacting and that it'd be better to just forget about it. I didn't want to deal with other people anyways. That was until later that morning. I was walking to school, enjoying the cool weather, when I saw a man staggering around on the other side of the road. It was the man from my dream. People crossed the street to avoid him as he drunkenly stumbled about. I followed after him, watching from a distance as he fell into an alleyway. Peeking around the corner, I saw as he pulled himself up on a wall and vomited up a thick black sludge. He wiped his mouth and continued down the alleyway. I wanted to follow him more but well, I couldn't be late for school anymore than I already have. As soon as I got home I started typing this up, hoping maybe somebody on here has an explanation for what I've come across. The journal hasn't provided many answers yet. I'm working on deciphering the man's handwriting as I write. Anyways, I think I've rambled on long enough. I'll keep you guys posted if anything comes up.
2021.12.04 23:45 Pent-Cent Its a sad and cold world
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2021.12.04 23:45 btoogood Meditation music
2021.12.04 23:45 dfsuperstar Fuse blew on Power supply
2021.12.04 23:45 MonsieurSalem The game isn't burning me out, but the responses to the community are.
To preface, I'm not typing any of this out of anger but more with a sunken heart of disappointment. And yes I read the long post by ske7ch.
There has been some level of communication (albeit a tad slow on some ends) with the community, but it is clear that there is a bit of trouble with how to address the feedback/backlash to some creative decisions. The messages are always vague, sometimes conflicting, or needing clarification from other sources, and until very recently with the playlist tweet by Uny, we had received very little in regards to a laid out plan for addressing certain issues. That's all fairly fine, to be honest, if not slightly irritating, from a baseline perspective.
Something that is currently neglected however is that there wasn't an abundance of goodwill behind 343 when this all started. Halo4 and 5, while I won't state my opinions, were generally received poorly. As for MCC, I can't really comment at all but my understanding is it had a very poor launch but has improved a lot over time (correct me if I am wrong because I legitimately haven't really touched MCC that much). This, combined with the fact that they are essentially the stewards of a longstanding IP are the reasons that many people don't see the "6 years of work for this product" as much of an excuse. Again I'm not trying to be mean or roast I'm just trying to portray general feelings.
Much of the community, myself included, feel somewhat disrespected by some of the responses from 343:
1: Response times were odd but it was around the holidays so some slack to give
2: The issues we are bringing up aren't all really being addressed, particularly monetization
3: Some of the responses are just downright condescending
To expand upon this, these feelings of anger and disenfranchisement festering in much of the community is largely because there seems to be this Miasma around just what happened. As many know Ske7ch recently made a very long post addressing a variety of details and in that response, he mentioned how he feels they don't owe an explanation as to how they've been working for the past 6 years. I'm not going to comment on whether they do or don't but the fact of the matter is it is that the only reason people seem to really want to know is that some of the decisions that have been made are, frankly, baffling and hard to understand and rationalize. With many games, there are typically distinct fallback heuristics to think of why something went wrong or why certain decisions were made no matter how controversial but there just are so many odd ones here in Infinite that it's stirring up more confusion than normal.
Additionally, some of the things being addressed are really only half addressed. The matter of "some players wishing the game wasn't free to play" because of the shop, has been brought up and dismissed in a matter that implies this. We understand that can't be a thing anymore but there are plenty of players that are trying to advocate for lower prices on certain items in a matter that would hopefully encourage even more spending for 343, but this had not been addressed. Nor has the argument of making such harsh armocolor restrictions in a gaming community that loves customization. It all lacks a bit of tact and a real show of understanding. Business is business, get used to it, yada yada yada.
And finally some of the responses just aren't very justified and as such comes off as talking down to us. A recent tweet (I believe Uny made it) was talking about the plan to come out with playlists later this year. While it was again a little bit vague it was a show of progress, although one that further added to the miasma of confusion about the design process. A response commented on how easy it was to just make these modes in custom games and therefore questioned why it was so difficult for 343. I'm not saying this was an appropriate response I am just giving context. Ske7ch then replied asking "how many millions of players are joining your lobbies?". This was, in my earnest opinion, unprofessional. This commenter clearly is an annoyed fan but at the same time, 343 is a AAA studio. Sure we don't understand what these things take, but they are a studio making a title that carries a lot of expectations. Their inability to carry that through and our capacity to comment in ANY form (besides threats obviously) doesn't open the gates for them to handle our comments in a dismissive manner.
Long rant but that's how I feel. I have my problems with the game like everyone else but I still want to see it do well. It's the handling of the community that is disheartening me and burning me out.
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2021.12.04 23:45 hmclaren0715 This had me literally bawling like a whole infant baby.... It hit really hard.
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2021.12.04 23:45 Pinky478 The last song you listened to is the world ending apocalypse, what happened?
2021.12.04 23:45 meoconus I think I just got a photo of a 5 legs cat.
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2021.12.04 23:45 _kiminara /OnceUponATime Subdirect Statistics
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2021.12.04 23:45 thecccp My first meme! Wa
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2021.12.04 23:45 SOLAR_CHRONIC Thanks Sean!!!🤤🤤😁
2021.12.04 23:45 DragonStation Do historians agree that some “disciples” at least claimed to have seen Jesus after his crucifixion?
I’ve never really gotten a satisfactory answer on this question. I’m curious primarily about historical consensus, but I’m also interested in perspectives from individual historians who’d like to chime in with their own takes.
To rephrase the question more specifically: regardless of how many disciples there were, who they were, or whether all/most/some of them agreed — do historians agree that some disciples at least claimed to have seen Jesus “risen” after his crucifixion?
Or would historians entertain the idea seriously that no disciples (nor anyone else who ever knew him personally) never even claimed to have seen him after his crucifixion?
This would allow for lying/hallucinating/etc, theoretically. I’m simply asking whether it’s a matter of historical consensus that some who knew him personally claimed to have seen him after his supposed death.
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