2021.10.18 13:22 WJL91 I was one 1 of 13 lucky winners of the signed by Omar Clouds Hill Tapes boxset. Signed bit says “Omar. 11/13” on the bottom right of the white box at the top. So happy.
2021.10.18 13:22 Coda_H If your waifu is anyone other than her, then this is fax
|submitted by Coda_H to DDLC [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 samvyt Is there anything on my old build worth saving or should I start from scratch?
Hi all, recently getting back into PC gaming. Used to game a few years back with a PC I built (list below) whilst at uni and on a budget. Used a relatives old 580 which did the trick back then. The PC still runs great for working/browsing but not for any new games. I'm in two minds about building from scratch or actually getting a prebuilt given GPU prices - seen some prebuilts with a 3060ti (which is the card I would be looking at) for around £900 (UK). My question is could I actually save any money using any of the parts below? Would anything still hold up? Or would I need a complete new set of components - in which case a prebuilt seems to make financial sense at the moment. Doesn't to me seem like much would be any good - except the SSD? Any opinions would be greatly appreciated! Thanks very much
PCPartPicker Part List
|CPU||Intel Core i3-6100 3.7 GHz Dual-Core Processor||Purchased For £93.76|
|Motherboard||ASRock H170M-ITX/ac Mini ITX LGA1151 Motherboard||Purchased For £84.21|
|Memory||Kingston HyperX Fury Black 8 GB (1 x 8 GB) DDR4-2133 CL14 Memory||Purchased For £34.25|
|Storage||Samsung 850 EVO-Series 250 GB 2.5" Solid State Drive||Purchased For £55.76|
|Storage||Seagate Momentus 5400.6 320 GB 2.5" 5400RPM Internal Hard Drive||-|
|Video Card||Gigabyte Radeon RX 580 8 GB GAMING 8G Video Card||-|
|Case||Fractal Design Node 304 Mini ITX Tower Case||Purchased For £62.76|
|Power Supply||Fractal Design Edison M 550 W 80+ Gold Certified Semi-modular ATX Power Supply||Purchased For £64.46|
|Operating System||Microsoft Windows 8.1 OEM 64-bit||Purchased For £0.00|
|Prices include shipping, taxes, rebates, and discounts|
|Generated by PCPartPicker 2021-10-18 12:14 BST+0100|
2021.10.18 13:22 UnInspiredWriting In April 1999, hipster Alex Egglestone is framed for murder in the Empty Factory in Frankton, USA...
2021.10.18 13:22 yes_i_watch_porn Can I leave mid-race so I don't lose gold in races for boss cars?
2021.10.18 13:22 Aikon94 SHYNE! just unveiled their NFTs, best anime project so far, small but super active organic community with daily activities, that's your chance to be early! (Also, doxxed team and full roadmap on their socials)
|submitted by Aikon94 to solana [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 GamingWarrior_79 Mods not working
2021.10.18 13:22 lambie1717 They wish you a good day :)
|submitted by lambie1717 to picrew [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 Brainerzz (Amazon) Sony X950H 55-inch TV: 4K Ultra HD Smart LED TV with HDR and Alexa Compatibility - 2020 Model with $250 off, for $950
|submitted by Brainerzz to AllElectronicsDeals [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 generalannie What are your kpop reddit pet peeves?
I was just lurking around on the kpop subreddits and was reading some posts. One of my biggest pet peeves is when on Kpophelp people ask for recommendations and the only thing people comment is the group name. Especially for posts asking for specific types of music.
What are your pet peeves?
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2021.10.18 13:22 ryvrstixx Choriza May, the Queen of Shade
|submitted by ryvrstixx to rupaulsdragrace [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 marshall1905 Vite Drawbacks
Here from the Nano community and just want to know what the drawbacks of Vite are
Would the underlying technology be on par with the likes of Ethereum or any similar projects
Not sure why it has taken this long to check out the project but looking forward to diving in!
submitted by marshall1905 to vitelabs [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 13:22 Rishabh_bhaskar Spotlight..(slowed) and you are in your washroom while it's raining heavily outside.
|submitted by Rishabh_bhaskar to LilPeep [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 deepinsomnia Honest feedback please! The prologue and first chapter of my novel.
Hello, I'd love some feedback (the good and bad!) on the first chapters of my novel, which can be briefly summaried with "YA Lesbian Murder Mermaid Romance". I'm onto the exciting stages of editing my first draft, and would love some initial feedback on it so far. If you do read it, please, be as harsh and honest as you like, and a huge thank you for reading.
Look too long, and the walls of Monroe Solicitors Ltd. stare back. After half an hour of waiting, my eyes are lost in the identical oak panels that line the waiting room. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a building so stately. Even the wide, squishy armchair I’ve sunk into feels more suited to a queen rather than myself. Everything here is new. Or rather, everything here is a hundred years old, at least. It is an entirely different world to the town of Downderry, Cornwall.
We’re sat here in our line of chairs like obedient pawns in a chess set. Mum, Dad, Sammy and Me. Not quite sure what to do with ourselves, just waiting and waiting. Ideas of sunlight leak through the stained glass windows.Opposite these walls it is a gorgeous day. We were all laughing outside Monument Station no less than an hour ago. And now, we wait.
Technically, we are not in a waiting room. We are in the Guest Lobby, which is more a wide corridor than anything else. It consists of five deep forest-green armchairs lined up against a wall, and a large inoffensive oil painting of some ladies-in-waiting opposite us. Their dresses, deep greens and purples, seem too fresh and vibrant from this room. They seem stolen, not from another era, but another world entirely.
We wait in silence. Not because we are a silent family – we’re quite the opposite – but because it is all so strange and foreign. I can tell Mum is nervous. She keeps on rummaging through her handbag, as if she’s looking for something, before snapping it shut and staring at the wall again. Dad has unbuttoned, then re-buttoned the top of his shirt collar twice. Now, he taps his fingers on the chair’s armrest as if to distract himself from doing it all again. And Sammy keeps on looking side to side from where he’s sat between the two of them, glancing at their faces in turn.
We are two hundred and twenty nine miles away from home.
Eventually, when the grandfather clock in the corner shows it has been a whole thirty six minutes of waiting, we are called inside. We totter through in a thin, slow line, one after the other.
‘Ah!’ the man behind a large wooden desk cries as we enter. He is bald and fat, looking quite uncomfortable in a stiff suit complete with a scarlet handkerchief tucked over his blazer pocket. ‘You must be the Waters family. Here to discuss the will of your late Aunt Wildra.’
In muffled synchronisation, we all mumble ‘yes’ and sit down on the chairs in front of him.
What they don’t tell you, when they heave a suitcase under your arm and shove you in the direction of the nearest train platform, is that the journey will be beautiful.
Rolling hills dotted with frolicking sheep. Tall cliffs to the right, framing the gushing waves that crash against them. Untouched clumps of trees waving in the wind.
All melting under the kiss of a crimson sunset.
It’s startling. Confusing, to say the least.
I drag my eyes away from the dirt-specked train window to check my phone. Its fluorescent clock glares back at me.
Seven-thirty pm. Still an hour and a half to go. My phone darkens, the screen fading away to reveal my reflection staring back at me. I decide not to give a thought to improving my appearance.
Two bags of poofy skin hang heavy under my eyes, a tell-tale sign that I managed just three hours sleep last night. This is framed by my brunette hair that has somehow managed to be both wispy and greasy - stray fragments of hair have escaped out of my rapidly-descending bun. They tickle against my jaw line, brushing against the small nest of acne that’s clustered on my chin.
Bed was so long ago, yet I look like I’ve just got out of it.
Taking another look at the melting sunset, I sigh. The tray on the back of the seat in front of me, at first so cold and plasticky, now looks inviting. Flipping it down, I rest my elbows on it, slumping my face in my hands. I can’t help but shiver into my year 11 school leavers hoodie. Cold, and it’s only the start of September.
Seeing as I’m going to Scotland, I’ve figured I may as well get used to the weather. This is what I’ve been telling myself the moment the train pulled out of Kings Cross Station. My mouth twists to the side as I contemplate the months ahead of me. They’re stretched out like a chain of paper snowflakes. September fades into October, which in turn blurs into November, December and January. Beyond that, the months are so far in my mind their names start to sound foreign, time belonging to a separate, intangible world. Part of me wonders if I’ll actually return home for Christmas. Mum promised I would, that she’d find a way. She had said when we had to sell my old kayak just to afford the train fair up.
‘Any tea or coffee, dear?’
I jolt awake to shake my head back at the woman slowly plodding down the aisle. She’s wheeling along the refreshments cart, laden with plastic cups, chocolate bars, crisps, and stale-smelling instant coffee. For something to do more than anything else, I mutter out a ‘No, thank you’. She nods her head back at me, disappearing down the empty carriage. Three hours into this journey, and I have told her no five times already. Honestly, if I wanted to buy something by now, I would have already done it.
It isn’t that I can’t afford anything. That would have been the case up until yesterday. But today, before hugging me goodbye at the station one last time, Mum had slipped a crisp ten pound note into my hand. It had been warm. She must have got it out of the ATM whilst I was in the toilets.
‘Buy yourself a nice dinner, okay darling?’ she smiled. Her eyes had transitioned from the slightly-shiny stage into the fully-welled-up-with-tears stage. I told her thank you as she pulled me in for one final squeeze. Then it had been a proper goodbye, and a farewell to Dad, as I slipped the cash into the pocket of my black jeans. The last thing I heard as I rolled my suitcase through the ticket barrier was my dad yelling ‘Be good!’.
I could hear the roundness of his cheeks as he said it, I could picture the laughter lines crinkled up around his kind, brown eyes. But I didn’t look back. I couldn’t let them see my eyes. I didn’t dare wipe my sleeve over them until I had aboard the train, finding my way to Coach C, Seat 24.
But anyway. Onwards and upwards. Look forwards not back.
That is the nonsense I keep regurgitating to myself as this stupid, stupid train rocks onward.
I am saving the ten pounds. Looking at Mum’s carefully hand-written itinerary, I’ve got a twenty minute stop at Edinburgh Waverly before catching my second train of the day to Glasgow. I have every intention of spending at least nineteen of those minutes savouring my last ever KFC. God knows how long it will be until my next chance at decent food will be. From the scattered information I’ve been able to find on the internet, the food where I’m going is not good.
‘The food here is limited...how are we meant to survive on the same watery menu ever day of the week?? Not at all suitable for growing girls! A scam!!!’
That was one review I had found. A complete contradiction to the advertised pictures in their online brochure.
I set an alarm for my phone for 20.45 and settle up against the window, closing my eyes. The loneliness of the landscape feels oddly comforting.
When I wake, it’s to the sound of Lewis Capaldi’s Someone You Loved blaring out my phone. My finger swipes at the screen to turn it off before I’m even properly awake.
Blinking my eyes in an attempt to adjust to the bright light, I lean my head back against my chair. The outside beauty has faded into a blanket of darkness. My stomach growls, followed by a loud gurgle. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, before we set off in the car at ten this morning. Still, I’ll be at the station in fifteen minutes. Then I can gorge myself on one heavenly bucket of fried chicken.
Above my head, a male, nasally voice squeaks out the tannoy.
‘Good evening ladies and gentleman. We regret to inform you that this service is delayed by fifteen minutes due to signalling issues up ahead. We apologise for the inconvenience this may cause and hope to arrive at our final destination, Edinburgh Waverly, shortly.’
I groan out loud, sinking my head down onto the table.
It’s not until we’re pulling into the platform that the fraying hope I had of getting at least somethingto eat fads away as fast as the person at the end of the tannoy bellows her words out.
‘The train to Glasgow will be leaving in two minutes from Platform Five. That’s in two minutes at Platform Five for the train to Glasgow.’
The last time I ran this fast was Year 7. The whole school watched me huff around a track on sports day, wearing a bright orange bib and praying to the gods I wasn’t going to come dead last. Sure, I could sprint – flip and cartwheel even, but 800 metres? It had been five minutes of relentless torture.
Incidentally, Platform Five is at the opposite end of the station to Platform Twelve, where my train came in at. And the task of lugging my suitcase behind me as I run through dense crowds of dumbfound tourists makes things twice as hard. I’m pretty sure the thud I hear behind me is too heavy to be any type of luggage. But looking behind me to check what kind of person I have just knocked over as I flee for the large white ‘5’ ahead of me would waste precious minutes.
One thing worse than being sent to a school in the depths of nowhere in the Scottish highlands?
Being stuck in a strange city with no ticket back home.
At least on the other end of this train, there will be someone waiting for me.
I make the train with three seconds to spare. Darting into the first carriage I can, I yank my suitcase behind me just as the doors snap shut. Wiping the beads of sweet off my upper lip, I lean against the closed doors and take several deep breaths of air.
I’ve made it. Thank god.
I decide the lobby, facing my suitcase in the luggage rack, is the best place to be. Staying here for a few minutes gives me time to get my audible panting under control. As I get my breath back I’m painfully aware my entire body is sticky. I have to brush away a thick strand of hair from where it has attached itself to my forehead. Delightful. My t-shirt is solidly stuck to my back, no doubt cooking up another long-lasting layer of acne as the minutes went by. The last three days I had spent lying in the Cornish sun with my t-shirt pulled up to my bra in a valiant effort to burn them all off was now wasted.
Yet again, I found myself too tired and hungry to care. Time to find my seat.
Pulling my train ticket out of my jeans pocket brings the ten pound note with it. The Queen’s eyes mock me as I stuff it away back out of sight.
Carriage C, Seat 34 I read.
Carriage M, First Class.
Of course. I suck in a sharp intake of breath through my nose and grind my teeth together. As I begin the walk through the carriages, apologising at least five times to the multitude of people my suitcase knocks into, the strand of hair I previously swept away dangles back down in front of my eyes.
I let it hang there.
The train to Glasgow isn’t as bad as I initially fear. It’s relatively empty, and I get a whole row of seats to myself. Stretching out, I waft the back of my t-shirt against my skin, airing myself out.
If I was at home, by now I’d be settled down into some pyjama shorts and my old gymnastics tank top. Dad would have made me hot chocolate, or peppermint tea, and we’d all be watching TV together, Sammy with us too.
Okay, not quite.
Dad might have made me a drink if he was in a good mood and not stressed about his work tomorrow. Sammy would be fixated on his latest computer game. And mum would probably be asleep on the sofa in her dressing gown, and I’d be tucked away upstairs in bed on my laptop.
But close enough.
The journey is smoother than the last train. The interior is shinier, newer. But what it has in modernity, it lacks in comfort. With no big squishy red seat to melt into, it’s impossible to get to sleep. I entertain myself with staring at the rain drops on the window. Reverting back to my four year old self, I place bets against no one which raindrop will reach the bottom of the glass first. I’m only interrupted briefly when a crowd of boys walk through, open beer cans in hand. Pulling my hood up over my face I disappear into the seat, shrugging my body into my hoodie, losing my figure to the mass of cotton. As a reward, they pass by without comment.
Glasgow station makes you appreciate Edinburgh Waverly. The little I had managed to notice about Edinburgh was that the ceilings were high and the place was airy, carved out of gothic architecture.
Glasgow station reminded me of flat, uninspiring Ikea stores. Did it only get worse from here?
The barrier swallows my ticket up and I step out into the waiting area. It’s late, only a few people are dotted about, each dressed in winter coats already. My arms cross over my stomach, hugging my hoodie in whilst my stomach growls. What was I meant to do now?
In my hoodie pocket is the scrunched up itinerary my Mum forced upon me.
‘Edinburgh – train to Glasgow, departs at 9.20, arrives at 10.15.
Wait in the waiting area opposite the platforms. A lady called Matron Miles will meet you and drive you to the school.’
I settle down into a cold, cruel metal chair. I have zero idea as to what ‘Matron Miles’’ looks like. I’m half an hour late anyway - if she’s bolted home I couldn’t blame her. Scanning the room, I can’t see anyone who looks equally confused, trying to see if I could be the Isla Waters they’re waiting for.
I’m interrupted from wondering what if the Matron really isn’t here by a sharp tap on my shoulder.
‘Would you be Miss Isla Waters?’
The woman leering over me smiles, and the outward corners eyes break into a ripple of crinkles. She has a kind face, warm and wrinkly, with grey hair tucked under a light-blue wooly hat.
I stare back at her glumly.
‘I’m Miss Guilberry. Pleasure to meet you dear.’ She strikes out a hand, and I shake it. Her knuckles are feathered with wiry white hairs. Standing up, I can notice the grooves of her hunched spine are visible through her grey cardigan, and her swollen ankles peek below a long black cotton skirt. Her clothes strike me as not only old fashioned, but hand made. Bumpy and inconsistent, they appear to have been knitted in the dark.
‘You are Isla, aren’t you?’ she asks in a low voice.
‘I am,’ I nod glumly. When she talks, her mouth sets off a catalyst of movement around her face. Shrivelled skin ebbs in and out, clotting together in wrinkled molehills on her cheeks as she talks. Her forehead strains under three deep ridges and the hairy mole on the top right hand side of her forehead is the only thing that holds onto its shape. Even her nostrils shudder.
‘Well, nice to meet you.’ I try not to flinch away at her stale breath. It smells like old, damp carpets. ‘Now, you are expecting to be picked up by Matron Miles, yes? We’ll she’s in bed for the night with a bad cold, got her feet wrapped up in thick winter socks and everything. Too much night-time wanderings around in the outside if you ask me! But anyways, I’m Miss Guilberry and you’s to come back with me to the school if you please.’
She looks at me with wide eyes whilst I stare back. She had spoken so fast that all her words had tumbled out of her mouth and got lost some way between her lips and my ears. Coated in a thick Scottish accent, I could barely process what she had said.
Something about not being Matron Miles, who I had been given explicit instructions to wait for.
Deciding in only a few seconds that I can hardly wait in the cold, dingy station for someone else to turn up, I nod my head fervently and stand up.
‘Nice to meet you Miss Guilberry. Thanks for picking me up.’
‘Not at all, not at all.’ Yes, yes, your suitcase. You get that, come on, this way.’
She beckons me forward and I follow, noticing with a smile the surprising spring in her step for someone who looks so old. Outside the station is what looks like a taxi rank, with three cars patiently waiting. The air is cooler than I expected. Like it’s escaped out of a February morning, it bites at my skin, seeping redness into my cheeks.
‘Bit chilly? We’ll get you dressed proper in no time. Come on.’
Miss Guilberry raps on the window of a black car at the front of the queue before opening the boot of the car. In goes my suitcase, which she helps swing in with me. Slamming the roof back down, she nods to the otherside of the car with me.
She opened the boot of the car and grabbed my case off my, swinging it inside with surprising ease. Slamming the roof down, she stepped round to open the car door. ‘In the other side, lass. Good girl.’
I walked round the side, but I haven’t taken one step out into the road before I’m instantly shrugging back. The screech of a car horn has punctured the air, and my view is lit up by its blistering white headlights. It’s almost driven me clean over. I’m no longer cold, but instead warmed by the heat that floods my body, my heart racing. Waiting for the car to pass, I catch incomprehensible but no doubt heated words coming from both the driver and Miss Guilsberry.
‘You got a death wish, girl?’ she tuts at me as I slide into my seat, wrapping the seatbelt around my torso.
‘You’ll have to keep close eyes on that one. Hello Isla.’
I realise now we’re not in a taxi, but a normal car. I say hi to the driver, who’s smiling round at me.
‘Not long to go now,’ he says, starting the engine. ‘We’ll be there in no time. ‘You must be tired, eh?’
‘Well you’s can go to sleep if you want,’ Miss Guilberry says, peering out her window. ‘We’ll be there in a few hours. You ate on the train?’
My stomach gives an almighty rumble before my lips can form a lie.
‘I got a choccy bar in the glove box.’ The driver offers. ‘Will that do you?’
‘Oh no, really, I’m fine.’
‘Nonsense,’ he chuckles. ‘I don’t live with all these girls and not know a growler when I hear it. Here’,
He passes a thick gold and red striped chocolate bar to me.
‘Thank you,’ I replied, splitting the wrapper open. The taste of caramel, chocolate and wafer melts in my mouth, and I swallow it down quickly.
‘No train food?’ Miss Guilsberry asks.
I shake my head, swallowing another mouthful.
‘I was going to eat at the station in Edinburgh but my train got delayed.’
‘Oh Aye,’ she nods. ‘Don’t trust them trains now, do we?’
‘Certainly not Berta,’ the man driving said. ‘Oh, I’m Thomas, Miss. Pleasure to have you with us. Isla is it?’
‘Yes.’ With a stomach full of chocolate and now able to identify the names of these strange people driving me away, I was beginning to feel a little better.
‘It’s Isla’s first time in Scotland,’ Miss Guilberry announces, beaming across at me.
‘Oh aye?’ Well you’ll be liking it, I bet you.’
‘She’s one of the bursary kids, everything all new,’ Berta continues, and I feel a pang of heat in my cheeks again. ‘A bit late into the term, but nothing we can’t catch up on.’
‘When did term start?’ I but in, anxious to have some say in the conversation before it twists into a total reveal about my personal matters.
‘A month back, not too long.’ Berta says this in a way that sounds like she disagresd with the idea of a month being ‘not too long’ in the slightest.
‘A little late, aren’t you?’ Thomas remarks, surprise in his voice. ‘I did wonder.’
‘My parents only decided it on a week ago.’ Silently, I thinkt of my mum, dad and brother back at home. What was the time? The neon lights of the car clock glow to say half ten. Joe, my younger fourteen year old brother would probably be in bed by now. Dad would be popping in on him soon to check he wasn’t hooked up to his headphones and laptop. Mum would be watching a film with me or taking a slice of whatever pudding I had made tonight. I stop my thoughts suddenly. In the darkness, for a second, I had forgotten I wouldn’t be home until a very long time.
‘Her aunt came here,’ Berta pipes up after the silence. ‘Wildra?
‘My Great-Aunt,’ I correct. I sense a yawn coming and let it out to exaggerated effect, moving my hand over my mouth.
‘Yes girl, you get some sleep. All darkness here anyway. Pity you can’t see the lochs with it being your first time and all.’
‘There’s always next time, when you go back,’ Thomas agrees.
I close my eyes and rest my head against the window, trying not to think about the meaning of these words. ‘Next time’ feels impossibly far away.
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2021.10.18 13:22 _LittleNugget_ Froggies, 50 updoots and i'll do full colour:-)
|submitted by _LittleNugget_ to HermitCraft [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 cornballGR realisation about darlene S01 (ending of S01)
so when Elliot kisses darlene (not knowing it was his sister) did that somehow triggered everything in his world?Does she sees 'Mr robot' as well or it was just pov from elliot that darlene sees him as well? And finally when he gets pushed out of the window,why is she asking who are you talking to?Does that mean in his world darlene realised he was talking to himself?Sry if this kinda confusing but tbh i always thought from the start that 'mr robot' was seem to not actually exist
submitted by cornballGR to MrRobot [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 13:22 no_one_6 Where to watch?
2021.10.18 13:22 Forest_Pixie Hey there, meet Eret the ferret. I bought her home yesterday :D <3
|submitted by Forest_Pixie to TheEret [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 MarkBrad44 Hiring a VA can save you time so you can concentrate on making more money!
|submitted by MarkBrad44 to PronounceNews [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 braderaku007 What does Arab jarab mean?
2021.10.18 13:22 MasterKnight48902 OK. How did the enemy 3rd placer get the score THAT low when he earned 37 kills in that match? ???
2021.10.18 13:22 undue-influence The Biden Economy is Great!
|submitted by undue-influence to conservativecartoons [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 13:22 Jlwin14 Who should be in my main team
Right now i have licorice, espresso, sorbet, dark choco, strawberry crepe, herb, and moon rabbit. Including some others like raspberry/vampire and i can obtain black raisin soon.
submitted by Jlwin14 to CookieRunKingdoms [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 13:22 Morgan-992 Divieto Ball Nozzles Set allows you to save time in decorating all your cakes,cupcakes,ice cream cookies, pastry desserts and much more Made of high quality 304 stainless steel, easy to use and keep clean
|submitted by Morgan-992 to CakeDecoratingIdeas [link] [comments]|