Sores on your face from adderall

GayBros: Keeping it Mild

2012.03.21 17:15 drumz0rz GayBros: Keeping it Mild

A place for those in the gay community to share photos of themselves, create friendships and enjoy the beauty of guys from all over the world. We welcome all who identify as "bros" including trans men and those who identify as bisexual. This is a Safe for Work community with strict guidelines.
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2016.11.26 23:01 NewUploader1 Mixed Girls

Beautiful / hot / sexy girls from all types of backgrounds.
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2012.01.06 08:18 Do you REALLY want that on your body forever?

Pictures of shitty tattoos.
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2024.05.15 03:01 Dermal_Denticals Update on (Very Nervous HELP)

I lived! I’m at home now eating lukewarm mashed potatos and beef gravy which is actually delicious. Gonna share what it was like so others can read and feel less nervous.
I got to the Oral Surgery Office which is about an hour away from me, had to do a urine test (pregnancy test) and took a quick nervous poop (if you know you know). Then the nurse began hooking up a blood pressure cuff and all the other instruments, even gave me a blanket! She was so nice and answered all my questions and made sure to give me plenty of information before hand.
Then the anesthesiologist came in and he was super chill, he mentioned in passing that he was also currently working in a hospital operation room as another job so it made me feel really safe knowing he had so much experience. I asked them to put the IV in my arm rather than my hand and honestly that was the worse part of the procedure. Unfortunately I also wouldn’t be able to keep my teeth after but I’d be able to see and hold them.
The nurses and the anesthesiologist went back and forth for a while, doing some medical records stuff, im sure as the words they were using were unfamiliar. They had to leave the room a couple of times too.
Then the anesthesiologists came back into the room, asked my full name, date of birth, and what procedure we were doing (to make sure I am of sound mind and aware), I did so and remember saying “my last words are feel free to use all the novocain you want”. The anesthesiologists then warned that he was injecting medication to make me feel relaxed. Medicine didn’t hurt at all going it, it felt actually cold in a refreshing. The anesthesiologist then asked me to move my butt back in the chair a little, I told him I couldn’t because I couldn’t move and that’s the last thing I remember. (I assume he might have positioned me after I was out and wasn’t expecting me to go down so fast).
I woke up about two hours late water gauze in my mouth and NO PAIN!! I apparently was even chatty after waking up, singing along to the music they had playing in the background and trying to talk to everyone. Nurse had to readjust my gauze at one point because I started to choke on it a little. Got to see and hold my teeth which are much bigger than you expect they are. Then I was walked out of the office and went home!
So far the pain I’ve experienced today was been at the highest a 4-10. That was unfortunately because it was an hour drive to get back to my town, in which the drugs began to wear off rapidly but ice and some drugs as soon as I got home helped a lot. I then drank some water and took an amazing three hour nap. When you sleep after you may wake up in a puddle of blood (my chin had alot of blood on it but totally worth it for that amazing nap!
Overall the experience was fine! Don’t be worried the stress beforehand is definitely worse. You will be sore after, but it’s less of a sharp pain and more off a you feel like you just stubbed your toe really bad pain (if your face was your toe)
I rate the experience 10/10 so far! Just definitely try to take pain meds after as soon as you can with some ice and you’ll be fine
submitted by Dermal_Denticals to wisdomteeth [link] [comments]


2024.05.15 00:25 Ralts_Bloodthorne Nova Wars - Chapter 61

i see you
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
can you hear the buzzing of the bees?
eternity is in their buzzing
"What does this button do?" asked the being who strolled into the Room Of Buttons Not To Press If You Don't Know What The Fuck You're Doing - Tadpole's Warning Bedtime Tale - Leebaw
the one and the zero, the octal, the hexidecimal
exist in their buzzing like blood pumps through their wings
can you hear them?
your name is Dhruv
Good judgment comes from experience.
Experience comes from bad judgment.
And I have very good judgement when I'm not on fire. - Unknown, Age of Reasonable Concerns
i see you
your name is Dhruv
but before that it was Dahlit 397721
do you remember why they named you Deshmuhk?
i do
to remember, we have to go back
The dust swirled around, carried by the winds that roared through the mountain passes, howled in the valleys, and scoured the faces of the mountains. It was a thick gray dust, glittering here and there with plasma glass dust. Burnt out cars were covered by the dust, thickly caked after being rained on by thick, black rain.
A single building somehow sat intact amid the rubble and destruction. It was a low, squat building, surrounded by wreckage and ruin. A sign, blasted and scorched, had two jumping fish on it and the legend "Pop: 4,823" at the bottom even though the middle of the sign was gone.
The sound of drums and singing could be heard from the building. Not the driving frantic beat of modern music, but the steady cadence that carried with it a solemn feeling. The singing was from many different voices, male and female, but all of them in a language that time had nearly forgotten.
From out of the dust came figures. Two female, four male, and single figure that stood out from others.
Together, they moved toward the sound of singing, until the reached the door.
The leader, a large man of heavy muscle and bone, checked the doors with one hand, a large pistol in his hand.
"Barricaded," the large man said. He motioned. "We should check for any other entrances."
The older woman of brown skin and tightly braided hair moved forward.
"Allow me, brother," she said gently. She held her hand out, twitched her fingers, and smiled.
From inside came the sound of furniture scraping across the floor.
"Thank you," the large man said. He pushed open the doors, holding them for the others.
Inside was a curio shop slash tourist center slash museum. Buckskin and beaded works hung from the walls and ceiling. Glass cases containing ancient artifacts were scattered about, the glass shattered by the apocalypse that had rained down upon the world.
The drums played and the voices sang.
"It's a recording, Father," the slender brown skin man said, brushing the gray dust off of his clothing.
"Live voice," the largest of the men said. He lifted his head, cocking it slightly to listen closer with his right ear. "Young. Early twenties."
"If you say so," the thin man said. He looked around. "This is all devoted to a single person."
"Sometimes, people are that important to others, Dhruv," the older brown skin woman said softly, patting the slender man's arm. "Important to others as you are to us."
The slender man looked doubtful but nodded.
The youngest male of the group looked around, staring at the artifacts and relics scattered around. On his shoulder sat a green mantid wearing a food wrapper as a poncho.
"She's this way," the heavyset man said, leading them on a winding course through the shattered displays and racks.
In the back room, surrounded by artifacts, buckskins, and beaded works, sat a single young woman. Her eyes were white, blinded from the plasma flashes. Her skin was scarred from burns, her hair was only left in small patches. Her skin, beneath the ash and the scarring, was a rich bronze, her remaining hair was black.
She was singing along with the recording, swaying back and forth slightly.
there she is
remember her
remember remember
The larger man knelt down, touching the young woman.
She did not react.
"She's dying," the man said, standing up. "Hunger, thirst, radiation poisoning, at least a half dozen infections," he heft the pistol. "There's nothing we can do for her. Low-vee Apers."
"Low-vee APERS" the pistol replied in a heavy synthesized voice.
"Stay thy hand, Phillip," the one who was markedly different said, his voice as gentle as his features formed of flowing blue and white computer code.
The large man lowered the pistol.
"She's dying," the large man repeated. "Radiation poisoning, starvation, a hard way to go."
"Will none of you speak for her?" the man of code asked gently.
Before any of the others could act, the slim bald man stepped forward. "I will," he said softly.
the first time you reached out
a frozen moment of time remembered
by the buzzing of the bees
The man of code stepped forward, touching the hairless brow of the slender man, just above the missing eyebrows.
"I understand her words now," the slender man said. He moved up and knelt down. "I can heal her."
"Then do so, Luke," the man of code said.
The large man stepped back, a compartment opening on his thigh. He holstered the pistol, looking doubtful, and the compartment smoothly closed, leaving his leg unblemished.
"I need more genetic code," the slender man stated. He stood up, moving around, touching artifacts. "This. Here. An artifact recovered from a collector only a few years ago. It has genetic code attached."
He touched the artifact, then moved over to the woman, who was still swaying back and forth, singing, unaware of the others around her.
He knelt down, reached out carefully, and touched her forehead.
you reached out to another
helpless and alone
like you
The woman threw her head back, her eyes opening wide, her mouth opening in a gasp. The white drained from her eyes, the scar tissue went soft and was replaced by unblemished skin. The blisters, sores, and scratches on her body vanished.
She collapsed forward, the slender man, Luke, catching her.
"Is she alright?" the youngest male asked, his voice full of honest concern.
"Exhausted," Luke said. He lowered his head slightly, sweat dripping from his bald scalp. "That was tiring."
The glittering man moved forward, kneeling down to touch the shoulders of both the woman and the bald man.
"Now you see in yourself what I saw in you," he said.
remember
remember
even the smallest can shake the universe
remember
Sirens were howling in the bay as Jaskel wriggled, trying to break free of whatever was holding him upside down in mid-air. He'd already dropped his chainsword, his pistol had fallen from his equipment belt.
The two stood in the middle of the deployment area for Clone War Bay Sixteen, the male's arm protectively around the shoulders of the female, who wore only the cloak.
"I..." the word hung in the air.
It seemed like the entire universe held its breath to Jaskel.
"...am Legion."
The Admiral grabbed his pistol, rolling in place, firing it as fast as he could pull the trigger.
The rounds exploded on the glowing blue shield that only appeared around the impact points, showering sparks across the bay.
The bald figure made a motion and the pistol flew into pieces, the Admiral yanked into the air upside down.
"Gimme missiles," Jaskel grated from between gritted teeth.
--legion legion legion-- 8814 transmitted. --wait don't wait--
The woman spoke, her cadence stately and almost archaic feeling.
The man spoke back to her in the same language.
More troops ran into the bay, even as the windows overlooking the bay shattered. Weapons deployed, pointing at the pair.
The slender man, without looking, motioned.
Guns flew away, breaking apart, rapidly disassembling. Power armored troops were flung into the air, to hang upside down. Captain N'Skrek found himself upside down, scrabbling for purchase on this air.
The woman spoke to the man. He spoke back.
Finally, he turned, facing the troops hanging in mid-air.
The woman spoke.
"My sister apologies for my rude actions," the man said. "I am merely ensuring her safety."
She spoke some more.
"She has been gone for many years," the man said. He looked around. "My sister, a Biological Apostle of the Digital Omnimessiah, pleads with you to lower your weapons and stay your hands."
The tension was so thick it almost made Jaskel gag.
Finally, the Captain put the tip of a bladearm against his temple.
"Stand down," he said, Jaskel hearing it through his armor's commo system. "All hands, stand down."
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the background humming of the ship's systems.
The woman spoke.
The man faced the Captain.
"She will go with you, to answer questions, on the stipulation that I accompany her and that no man's hand is raised against me without cause," he said.
The Captain nodded.
Jaskel felt relief as he was flipped over and set on his feet.
--luke luke luke is here--
999999
Captain N'Skrek ducked slightly to fit through the doorway into the Captain's Briefing Room Six.
Sitting at one end was the woman, now clothed in what his implant assured him was treated deer hide leather, with tassels and beads upon it. The man was wearing a uniform that made his implant twitch and his nerves draw tight.
A Terran Combined Military Authority uniform.
His staff filed in behind him and took their seats once he sat down.
"I'm Captain N'Skrek, currently assigned to the Gray Lady on autonomous assignment," N'Skrek said.
"You heard me," the slim bald man said. He gave a grin. "You may also know me as Vat Grown Luke or Dhruv Deshmuhk."
The woman spoke and he shook his head. "Yes, sister, I know, Deshmuhk is my slave name. I wear it for revenge."
The woman spoke again, her tone slightly chiding.
"Like they say, the best revenge is living well, sister," the man said, still smiling.
Again, the woman spoke.
N'Skrek noticed that his implant was absolutely no help in deciphering the woman's speech.
"I know that doing things like that and saying things like that is exactly why Daxin always told me people wanted to punch me in the face," the man laughed.
He turned back to Captain N'Skrek.
"My apologies. My sister refuses to speak anything but her people's ancient tongue," his eyes gleamed with mischief. "She is slightly put out with me for answering in Confederate Standard, since now you know that she understands perfectly what you are saying."
N'Skrek nodded. Vat Grown Luke had given up a valuable piece of information in what was sure to be delicate negotiations.
"And what should we call your sister?" N'Skrek asked.
Vat Grown Luke smiled. "Tsakáka Wia, but it would probably be easier for you to use the more common name," he said.
The woman spoke sternly.
"What? It's your commonly known name?" he said, smiling.
The woman's face grew stern and she spoke rapidly.
"The first lesson we learn, sister mine, is that we must bend the knee to reality," Luke said gently. "That name has no power, only a few of us remember it."
i remember
the bees remember
can't you hear it in their buzzing?
The woman spoke again, her expression softening.
Luke turned back to the gathered officers. "Her name, as you would know it, is Sacajawea."
N'Skrek consulted his implant.
And felt fear chill his icon. He looked at his staff and saw that a lot of them looked sick.
"That's right. We are real, and he was real," Luke said. He leaned forward slightly. "He was real both times."
N'Skrek stayed relaxed and calm, at least outwardly.
"I am willing to accept, at this time, that the Biological Apostles and the Digital Omnimessiah were and are real," N'Skrek said.
"Just be glad Dax isn't here. He's not as even tempered as I am," Luke said.
Sacajawea spoke again and Luke laughed. He looked at Captain N'Skrek. "She was just reminding me of the time Daxin completely lost his cool and went to town with his cutting bar on a Countess Crey Bingo Cola vending machine that ate his money then mocked him for it."
"He was known as Enraged Phillip," N'Skrek said.
Sacajawea spoke for a moment and Legion laughed, then turned to N'Skrek.
"Yes."
N'Skrek hated that. When a person spoke at length and the translator just replied with a single word.
"Why are you here?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled. "You have forgotten important things, Captain. You, and the entire Confederacy have forgotten some very important things."
"Like what?" N'Skrek asked.
"If you print enough identical clones, I am reborn through them," Legion smiled. "But that's not the big part. The big one is the one that the Mar-gite's masters either forgot or never learned."
"What is that?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled widely.
"What fear tastes like."
your name is dhruv
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
submitted by Ralts_Bloodthorne to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 22:29 Majestic_Incident_27 Nancy: Femme Fatale (part 3)

https://reddit.com/link/1cs2aw3/video/5ghwzruubg0d1/player
Chapter 3: Breaking and Training
Nancy's eyes fluttered open to harsh fluorescent lights. She was in a new room, one starkly different from the sterile lab where she had awakened. This room was lined with mirrors and filled with an assortment of equipment—poles, ropes, and mats. The air was cold, and the scent of disinfectant was overpowering.
The door swung open, and in walked a man dressed in black. His face was stern, eyes cold. Behind him, two guards followed, their expressions blank and intimidating.
"Welcome to your new reality, Nancy," the man said, his voice devoid of warmth. "It's time to train you to become the idol you were designed to be."
Nancy felt a surge of anger and fear. She tried to stand, but her legs were shaky, her body still adjusting to its new form. The man in black approached, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her to her feet.
"Let go of me!" she shouted, trying to pull away.
Her resistance was met with a swift punch to the belly. The pain was sharp and immediate, doubling her over. She gasped for air, the wind knocked out of her, but the man was relentless. He pulled her up again, this time more forcefully, and pushed her towards the center of the room.
"You're going to learn, whether you like it or not," he growled.
The training was brutal. Nancy was forced to dance seductively, her new body put on display in front of the mirrors. Every misstep was met with punishment. When she faltered, the man would yank her back into position, his grip bruising her skin.
She was made to sing until her voice was hoarse, the lyrics foreign and humiliating. Her hands were tied above her head, her body exposed and vulnerable. They poured ice water over her, the cold seeping into her bones, making her shiver uncontrollably.
"Keep singing," the man ordered, but her teeth chattered too much to form coherent words. A sharp slap to her face made her eyes water, but she forced herself to continue, the taste of blood from her bitten tongue mixing with the cold water running down her body.
The ropes cut into her wrists, the bondage restricting her movements. Nancy's muscles ached from the strain, but there was no respite. The man took pleasure in her suffering, pushing her to her limits and beyond.
At one point, she tried to fight back, her instincts urging her to resist. But her efforts were futile. The guards were too strong, and the man too cruel. Another punch to the belly made her double over, the pain radiating through her entire body.
"Submit," he hissed in her ear, pulling her back up by her hair. "You have no choice."
The physical pain was matched by psychological torment. She was made to pose provocatively, her body manipulated like a puppet. They mocked her, taunting her with crude comments about her appearance and her new identity.
"Look at you," the man sneered, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror. "So beautiful, so perfect. And yet, so weak."
Nancy's eyes filled with tears, the humiliation burning deep inside her. She hated what she had become, hated the body that betrayed her with its beauty and allure. But there was no escape from the relentless training, no way to avoid the pain.
The most twisted aspect of her training was the forced arousal. They used devices to stimulate her, driving her body to the brink of pleasure, then stopping abruptly. It was a cruel game, designed to break her will and make her associate pleasure with submission.
Her breasts were a constant target. The man used cold metal clamps to tease her nipples, sending sharp shocks of pain and pleasure through her. He watched with satisfaction as her body responded against her will, her nipples hardening, her breath quickening.
"Enjoying this, Nancy?" he taunted, twisting the clamps cruelly. "Your body certainly is."
Her face burned with humiliation, but her body betrayed her. The forced arousal was maddening, her new form hypersensitive and eager. She hated herself for the way she responded, the way her body craved the stimulation despite the pain they continued to torment her, using vibrators and other devices to drive her to the edge, then stopping just before she could find release. It was an endless cycle of frustration and humiliation, designed to break her spirit and make her submit.
In addition to the physical and psychological torture, Nancy was subjected to a strict diet plan designed to enhance her new form. She was given female hormones to shape her body further, making her curves more pronounced and her features softer.
They monitored her food intake obsessively, forcing her to eat less to maintain a slim figure. When they wanted her to gain weight in specific areas, they would force-feed her high-calorie foods until she was nauseous. If she resisted or failed to eat enough, they would force her to vomit, the guards holding her head over a basin as they shoved fingers down her throat.
Nancy's stomach churned constantly from the forced feedings and vomitings. The cycles of extreme hunger and forced gluttony left her weak and disoriented. The man would stand by, watching her suffer with a twisted smile.
"You're going to be perfect," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Every inch of you."
The hormone injections were a daily ritual. They injected her with estrogen and other hormones to accelerate the development of her feminine features. The injections were painful, leaving her muscles sore and her mood unstable. Her breasts swelled further, the skin stretched tight over the growing mammary glands. The pain was constant, a reminder of her body's betrayal.
Her hips widened, her thighs grew thicker, and her buttocks became rounder and firmer. Each change was accompanied by discomfort and humiliation, the man and his guards constantly commenting on her developing form.
"Look at those curves," one guard would say, his voice lecherous. "You're going to drive them wild."
The breaking point came when they combined physical pain with forced arousal. She was tied to a chair, her body soaked in freezing water, her skin numb and blue. The man walked around her, his presence a constant reminder of her helplessness.
"You're going to learn to dance, to sing, to seduce," he said, his voice cold and calculating. "You're going to make us a lot of money, Nancy."
She tried to shake her head, tried to refuse, but her body was too weak, her spirit nearly broken. The final blow came in the form of a harsh punch to her belly, making her scream in agony.
"Do you understand?" he demanded, leaning close to her face. "You belong to us now."
Nancy's spirit finally broke. The resistance drained out of her, replaced by a numb acceptance. She nodded weakly, tears streaming down her face. The man smiled, satisfied with her submission.
"Good girl," he said, patting her cheek condescendingly. "Now, let's start again."
The training resumed, but this time Nancy didn't fight back. She danced, sang, and posed as instructed, her mind retreating into a place of numb compliance. The pain became a constant companion, but she learned to endure it, to accept it as part of her new reality.
submitted by Majestic_Incident_27 to Nancy_Momoland_fap [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 21:31 SonderAnonymous At my (29F NT) breaking point - is there hope for my relationship with my fiancé (31M dx rx)?

I (29F NT) am extremely neurotypical and emotionally/mentally/financially stable. I’ve been struggling with my fiancé (31M dx rx) for a long time, and could really use some tailored words of wisdom. Lurking this subreddit/community has been so incredibly validating and helpful as I navigate this overwhelming journey… 2 years into our relationship and I feel like I’m at my breaking point. I doubt whether he’s capable of changing fast enough, I’m not sure I want this for my life anymore. Things will only get harder as we age and kids are thrown in the mix…
The past year has been soul-crushing, I’m a shell of the person I used to be. I’ve self-isolated from friends, had depressive episodes (never had that before), gained an excessive amount of weight, am frequently paranoid and anxious (never had anxiety before). I just never have long-lasting peace, it has destroyed my mental health. Before all this, I was eager to get engaged/married while he was nervous and wanted to take it slow. Now things have flip-flopped: he proposed far earlier than I thought he would, and I’m hitting the breaks uncertain of our future when I’m supposed to be planning a wedding (I refuse to until I see long-term/consistent improvement from him).
I can say that thankfully, my fiancé is not on the extreme end of ADHD. He doesn’t struggle holding a job, he isn’t a slob, he doesn’t shut down sexually, etc. He was diagnosed with ADD (so inattentive ADHD) when he was 18, and has been taking Adderall since. He does not take as much as he is prescribed, which I’ve questioned and he brushed off. We have gotten into heated, and ridiculous, arguments since early-on in our relationship.
Fall last year I unintentionally stumbled upon the emotional dysregulation aspect of ADHD. I was watching reels on Facebook, and in one a woman started by saying “If your partner has ADHD, watch this.” I continued watching, and 5-10 seconds later she mentioned in passing how they have problems with emotional regulation. I was immediately floored and replayed the video to make sure I heard it correctly. I Googled it and, low and behold: there was article after article about this. I read bullet point after bullet point of the manifestations of ADHD, and I couldn’t believe how it described exactly what I had been dealing with for nearly a year and a half.
My entire life I thought ADHD just meant someone had more difficulty focusing or they were hyperactive. This is what most of [uninformed] society thinks, and also what my fiancé himself thought. Over a 12+ year period since being diagnosed, not a single doctor or psychiatrist ever once mentioned the emotional dysregulation aspect of ADHD to my fiancé. He had no idea! Previously, I had chalked up our problems to political differences and that for his entire 20s he was always around (and dated) people very different from me. So I thought he just had trouble adjusting away from judgmental worldviews he had adopted while being surrounded by like-minded people for so long.
The discovery of emotional dysregulation and RSD was ground-breaking for us. He had been starting to think I was the problem since he “didn’t have these problems in my previous relationships.” Well that’s because he always dated less-mentally-stable people (his most recent girlfriend was diagnosed bipolar), so by comparison he was always the more stable one in the relationship and the magnifying glass was pointed away from him. Making the link between our problems and his ADHD made it tangible in a way that he could understand, which provided a foundation for his growth and improvements to begin (alongside therapy). But it’s very difficult for a 30+ year old man with a brain disorder to unlearn bad habits he was fully unaware of & learn how to retrain his brain to process information in a healthy way…
My fiancé has externalized RSD - he becomes highly reactive and verbally aggressive. He is hypersensitive, his brain distorts reality and interprets innocuous questions/statements like “did you put water in the soap dispenser” or “that’s a lot of cereal” as personal attacks. He also has a very big problem not respecting certain differences in opinion we have, or not respecting my choice to not eat/do certain things - he will push and push and push and push, will not stop pushing even after I calmly & nicely asked him to stop dozens of times after dozens of arguments, will not stop even after I’m sobbing begging him to please stop with tears streaming down my face. What are these explosive arguments about? The most mundane, inconsequential things. I wish this was made-up: HOV lanes, me not wanting to eat salad, me not wanting to eat warm guac, me not wanting to eat mustard, me not wanting to try Adderall or coke, me having a different view/opinion on how we should heat up a frozen pizza, me not wanting to eat mushrooms because they make me sick, etc etc.
Every single time we have an explosive argument, he pushes and pushes and pushes. When I reiterate, for the 100th time, that I have autonomy over my own body and don’t need to do anything I don’t want to do, he tries to manipulate me by flipping the script and parroting words/phrases I’ve used in previous discussions (like saying I’m being “disrespectful” and “dismissive” of his feelings/opinions because I won’t do what he wants me to do). Only once he calms down does he realize how badly he effed-up, profusely apologizes, and promises to never do it again and that he’s capable of being better… But then he just does it again and again and again and again and again and AGAIN.
He tries to play the victim and come off as reasonable by saying that he’s just “trying to understand” me by asking questions. I told him that is a cop-out because after I’ve explained how I feel, he ignores it since it doesn’t make sense to him & doesn’t line up with what he thinks/believes, and instead he continues pushing/pressuring me.
More recently he also claims that he isn’t trying to pressure me to do anything TO MYSELF, he’s just sharing his own experiences and thoughts with me so I can understand him better. When you repetitively “share your experiences/thoughts” on XYZ after I made it clear dozens of times that I don’t want to do XYZ and to please stop pressuring me to, even if you don’t explicitly state “You should try XYZ,” you are still INDIRECTLY pushing/pressuring me.
I. am. SO TIRED. Resentment has been growing, I’m paranoid and anxious, I don’t trust him (because he has repeatedly lied to me), his substance use (alcohol and weed) has become less and less attractive. He claimed a long time ago that I’m obsessed with being right, but he’s just projecting - he’s the one obsessed with “being right.” While he loves how I do all the paperwork-related “adult” part of life, he gets really annoyed that I’m almost always ‘right’ about things while he is not - so he takes it out on me.
Things have gotten to the point of reactive abuse, which I warned him about a few months into our relationship (at the time I didn’t know the term, just the concept). I’m having such a hard time making my mind up on where to go from here. When things are good, they are so good. He is a genuine person and a good man, we have SO much love for each other. We share many laughs and have built a life together. But… his brain is plagued with a disorder (that he was not fully informed on & did not begin attempting to manage until 6 months ago) that breaks me down.
While he has improved since the ADHD link was discovered and he started therapy, he continues slipping up and defaulting back to his regular BS. I don’t think I can take it anymore. I don’t want to waste more years of my life, or end up trapped in a marriage because of kids… I’m afraid that’s what it will come to, and I’ll be forever mad at myself for sticking around despite the red flags and what I knew about his condition.
BUT… What if it’s possible for him to improve and stop hurting me? Maybe he needs different medication? Maybe there are other communication approaches we can try? Maybe there’s a better kind of ADHD-specific therapy out there (I don’t think his/our current therapist is helping much)?
I know that he has a long way to go, and that I need to focus on healing. What are methods that have worked for you? Is there a better way I can go about looking for a therapist that specializes in adult ADHD & who truly understands it and can help? My fiancé acknowledges and understands that he has a problem, I can see that he is genuinely trying to improve - he wants to be a better person for himself and also be the partner I deserve. He is struggling to make it happen, he wants it SO badly - he doesn’t want to lose me or the life we have together. I just don’t know how much more of this I can take… Please, any advice & support would be greatly appreciated. Thank you so much for taking the time to read.
submitted by SonderAnonymous to ADHD_partners [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 21:01 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 2)

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.
submitted by Flagg1991 to LetsReadOfficial [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 20:57 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 2)

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.
submitted by Flagg1991 to LighthouseHorror [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 20:56 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 2)

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.
submitted by Flagg1991 to MrCreepyPasta [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 16:22 TheBlaringBlue Ranking the Shire Arcs in AC: Valhalla

I wrote mini reviews of each arc here, but because there are so damn many arcs, this ended up being a wall of text, despite me trying to keep them short. Feel free to skim or read only what interests you!
--
The episodic nature of Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla means that its narrative is split into chunks. These chunks take place across the many shires of medieval England and vary in terms of length, depth and, well, pointlessness. I thought ranking them would be a fun exercise — a competition of story arcs, all vying for best Viking mini-narrative.
It goes without saying, but I’m about to spoil the whole damn game, so read at your own risk.
--
21. Wincestre
Wincestre is just another Lunden or Jorvik, accept with more Jesus, more King Aelfred and way less… anything worthwhile. This one was just a total nothing-burger of an experience. The fact that it comes so late in the narrative really hurts it, too, because by now you’ve experienced arcs that are a similar traditional Assassin’s Creed city-style that at least aren’t this bad. Aelfred’s turning on Eivor at the end also didn’t feel coherent, convincing or warranted to me. Big miss.
20. Lunden
The smaller, denser cities with multiple targets to track down and ‘social stealth’ options are certainly here to attempt to replicate the traditional AC experience, but Lunden fails to do so meaningfully, and even gets a huge points deduction for being misleading.
The arc is set up to feature twists with Stowe and Ercke (is one a traitor? Will your romancing of Stowe make things complicated?), but after their initial scenes they’re mitigated to what I would hardly even call side characters as Eivor unveils three randos as Order members, kills them and then leaves town. At least there was a cool boss sequence on the river?
19. Snotinghamscire
This arc sees you reunite with Hemmingr Jarl, his son Villi and his compatriot, Trygve. Eivor has an existing relationship with these characters, but the player doesn’t. As a result, nothing that happens with them lands meaningfully.
After Hemmingr passes, this arc boils down to running dull errands to prepare for the burial ceremony. Eivor chooses whether Villi or Trygve will succeed Hemmingr in the end, but the decision is very clear-cut and suggested to the player, lacking the nuance of the game’s other difficult decisions. This arc isn’t memorable, doesn’t concern the main quest, and feels like fluffy filler in the worst way.
18. Jorvik
Another version of the Lunden & Wincestre arcs, Jorvik is stronger than its competitors for presenting the Order members to your face before you deduce who they are. There was nothing shocking about their reveals, but each provided an interesting set piece to navigate during assassinations.
Problematically, the arc sets itself up for Eivor to accuse a traitor, only for her decision to not matter at all. You never get to act on your accusation at Yuletide — the Order member interrupts and attacks the feast no matter who you accuse.
17. Cent
The Cent arc sees Eivor team with Basim to track Fulke. It feels important and part of the main story, but it’s all for naught in the end — you come face-to-face with Fulke in what seems like a meaningful story moment, only for her to run away. Your reward is finding out Sigurd had his arm cut off.
This arc earns some points for getting Fulke screen time and tiptoeing the tightrope of Eivor and Basim’s rocky relationship believably, but certainly can’t be called good. This is because once you pull back the veil, you realize you never advanced the plot and were running in circles for nothing the entire time. At least the other “filler” arcs were forthright about their (lack of) connection to the main story.
16. Jotunheim
This arc has a compelling story to it — Odin running from his fate and bending over backwards to flee from it is interesting, his broken relationship with Loki should be a strong point for the arc, and his moral gray areas (sleeping with a Jotunn, betraying Tyr) certainly make for a complex character’s development.
It has the ingredients of a strong arc, but I just couldn’t shake the why am I doing this feeling I had the entire time. Everything in between Odin’s big moments is a fetch quest and I just felt like I was wasting my life.
This one is weird because on paper it feels like there’s a lot of substance here, but ultimately, I felt nothing while playing it besides contempt for having drank the potion in Ravensthorpe again.
15. Lincolnscire
Heir to the throne Hunwald is exiled from Lincoln and reaches out to Ravensthorpe for help. Eivor tracks down his sickly and dying father and then must cast the deciding vote for whom the new Ealdorman will be after his death.
The game wastes your time with one of Hunwald’s competitors, Aelfgar, (who is a dork) and paints the bishop as evil pretty clearly (he turns out to be an Order member). I suppose this arc could hit hard for someone who accidently put an Order member in charge. For that and for Hunwald at least having a strong drive and personality, this arc earns some marks.
14. Essex
Eivor is brought in to repair a marriage by separating husband and wife naturally without a public divorce. She reunites Ealdorman Birstan with his former lover and sets up a fake public kidnapping to whisk away his wife, Estrid.
I think many would rate this arc far lower than I have here because it is pure side mission nonsense — but for me, this arc stands strong on the backs of convincing and fun characters in Birstan and Estrid, as well as the tangled web of relationships between the two of them, Birstan’s son, and Rollo, Estrid’s former lover.
13. Ledecestrescire
Ledecestre sees the intros of Ivarr, Ubba and Ceowulf. You team up with the sons of Ragnar to help put Ceowulf’s father on the throne in Mercia.
Ledecestrescire earns points for strong, realized characters in the Ragnarsons and Ceowulf, a believable conflict with the Mercian king, as well as the arc’s biggest moment with killing or sparing Leofrith in Tamworth.
12. Asgard
Asgard looks pretty and hits hard when you first arrive. I appreciate Ubi for creating places like Atlantis and Asgard to run around and explore in.
Unfortunately, both felt supremely empty. However, watching Odin fight tooth and nail to run from his fate was satisfying and Loki is aptly deceptive and frustrating. The Builder gave the arc a nice wrinkle, too and climaxed with a nice boss fight.
I spent too much time tracking down tears, but I think if you look at just the main missions here, this is a solid experience in an incredible environment.
11. East Anglia
In this arc, Eivor works alongside Oswald to fend off violent Dane aggressors and claim his leadership role.
Oswald is honorable and likeable — watching him teach the Danes in his court that bravery can reveal itself in more nuanced ways rather than physically was powerful, and giving Eivor the decision to allow Oswald to fight his own battles or fight for him solidified the feeling of fathering Oswald through this arc into manhood and leadership.
I bought into this arc because I felt the story was touching and meaningful and the cast was strong.
10. Vinland
Nothing really happens here aside from hunting down Gorm Kjotveson, but the arc earns major points for how refreshing it is.
I played it late in the story when I was feeling quite a bit of fatigue towards the game and everything about Vinland just landed for me, giving me new energy to actually enjoy what I was doing.
The new landscape is insanely gorgeous and fun to navigate. The stripping down of Eivor’s equipment essentially forces you to start from scratch — but it really makes the four stealth encounters stronger; you have to approach them differently due to being unarmed and unarmored.
The whole thing was a little bit of a reset button for the entire experience of Valhalla and it sorely needed it.
9. Suthsexe
Suthsexe is the meeting with Guthrum and the rising action leading up to defeating Fulke.
The arc is fun, feels impactful as well as meaningful and sees you reunite with all the old friends you’ve made up to this point. Fighting alongside Soma and others was a big positive for me. Storming Fulke’s fort at least included some different mechanics than many forts up to this point, so it felt fresh. Her boss fight in the darkness of the crypts was exceptional, as was her confession sequence.
This arc was mostly good, satisfying fun the whole way through, but didn’t include too much intrigue as the ones ranked above it did.
8. Rygjafylke
Look, I’ll be honest. I’m writing this particular paragraph after completing the game and this opening section was so long ago that I don’t have a great memory of it.
What I do know is that Valhalla opened strongly. I found it all pretty compelling. I remember it being atmospheric, believable and driven by strong characters like Sigurd, Varin, Haytham, Basim and Kyotve. I was bought-in very early and Rygjafylke really got the game off to a strong start.
7. Hamtunscire & Epilogue
Aelfred screen time is a good thing, and this arc earns marks for his badassery in the face of Guthrum, as well as his manipulation of the Dane army. Ally deaths in the battle at Chepeham give the arc meaningful stakes and ratchet up the tension. This arc is brief and straightforward — there’s not much story to it since it’s really just war throughout the whole thing.
Afterwards, Eivor tracks down the final member of the Order and confronts him in a touching sequence over some burnt bread in a small swampy town in the middle of nowhere. It’s a humble conclusion for Aelfred and the swirling epic that was AC: Valhalla.
6. Hordafylke
The return to Norway contains two things: Eivor & Sigurd finding closure with Sigurd’s father, and the two locating “Yggdrasil.”
I quite enjoyed the pit stop with Sigurd’s father, and the entire Yggdrasil sequence was incredibly interesting. It was a refreshing change of pace from what you’ve been doing for the past 100 hours and featured a nice boss fight at the end. No matter which ending you get, the conversation with Sigurd after the dust settles is impactful and weighty.
5. Oxenefordscire
Finally reunited with Sigurd, this is the arc we learn of his obsession with his ancestry and true nature. Eivor’s reaction of discomfort and distrust towards Sigurd’s change is honest and relatable and she must juggle relations between Sigurd and the Thane they are working to put in charge, Gaedric.
Negotiations with King Aelfred are complex and a late intervention from Fulke reveals her true allegiance to the Order and puts Sigurd in enemy hands.
This arc moves the plot along moreso than the last 400 hours you’ve been playing the game, while also establishing and reinterpreting Eivor’s relations with the cast in meaningful ways. It ratchets up the tension of the main quest and narrative, which up to this point had been lagging behind due to a breadth of shire arcs.
4. Glowecestrecire
I’m so surprised to see myself rank this so high — after the first third of the arc, I was considering putting it in dead last. I felt Gunnar’s fiancé’s unintelligible dialogue, the trick-or-treating, the druid encounter, and Eivor’s 400th drunken night of debauchery to be a disrespectful waste of my time this deep (over 80 hours) into the game.
But then the arc turned, with two solid stealth encounters and a stellar boss fight. Navigating the Aelfwood was a gorgeous thrill and the confrontation with Modran is atmospheric and a fantastically fresh take on the typical Valhalla boss or mini boss fight.
When I decided to focus-up on the story and let the Celtic and Welsh mythos shine, the arc became a terrestrial fever dream of satisfying magic, intrigue and character interactions.
3. Grantebridgescire
Eivor looks to ally with Soma, the leader of Grantebridge, but her town’s just been sacked from the inside by a traitor. After saving her three companions in the thick river bogs, you take back Grantebridge and then embark on an investigation to discover the rat.
Its the investigation that makes the whole arc. It has a slew of clues, nuance and red herrings to consider. One of its strengths is how open ended the investigation is — you can follow the quest markers, but talking to the town’s people and hunting down the yellow-painted ship is up to you (at least I think, I played on the most ‘difficult’ exploration setting).
This arc earns big points because the investigation matters — you have to tell Soma to kill one of her closest friends and then watch her do it, living with your right or wrong decision.
2. Eurvicscire
Finally meeting the third of the famed Ragnarson’s, Eivor finds Halfdan a paranoid soul, waxing poetic about friendship and treason. The arc balances the two on a blade’s edge to tremendous effect.
Halfdan believes he has a traitor in his midst and the main culprit is his right-hand man, Faravid.
Faravid's dialogue is expertly written to feign allegiance to Halfdan, but never reveal too much of his true nature. Eivor’s wavering relationship and trust with him are complex and the Wolf-Kissed can lie to both him and Halfdan depending on dialogue choice. Every decision feels like it carries weight. It’s this ambiguity that makes the arc compelling and gives the decisions importance.
This arc could feel disconnected (it’s not part of the main plot and Halfdan doesn’t appear in the late game, no matter your decision) and thus appear as pointless fluff, but I won’t fault it for that. As a self-contained story, this was flat-out interesting and kept me in anticipation of the next reveal or twist. Imagery and foreshadowing, red-herrings, and great atmosphere all make for an engaging and compelling experience. I only wish every shire arc could’ve reached these heights.
1. Sciropscire
Sciropescire’s strengths come somewhat from the arcs that came before it, as it sees Eivor quickly reunited and working with Ivarr and Ceowulf. Your preexisting relationship with both gives this arc an advantage over others where it doesn’t have to establish too much all at once, as well as it starting off with you already having a personal connection of some sort with the main cast. Still, each set piece here is strong enough on its own –
  1. Eivor & co. join to negotiate peace with King Rhodri. She can offer 600 silver to whomever she chooses to try and quell the peace talks. Each option is mired in obscurity, has obvious pros and cons, and plenty of uncertainty. It felt impactful, difficult and nuanced.
  2. After peace talks go sour with Ivarr’s outburst, Eivor, Ivarr and Ceowulf sack a village under Rhodri’s control. It’s brutal and takes a long time to burn (on purpose!). You then fight a huge party of Rhodri’s men. The whole scene feels vile, over the top and harsh (on purpose!).
  3. The twist is that Ivarr kills Ceowulf in cold blood to earn himself the opportunity to get his own revenge on Rhodri — only revealed after you sack Rhodri’s fort (after reaching peace with him). A brutal blood eagle from Ivarr and the game’s best boss fight ensue.
It’s close between the top 3, but this is the best arc in the game, for me.
For once, the game forces you to face the trail of bloodshed and destruction your ‘pacifying’ of England has left in your wake. Additionally, the ambiguous decision-making process in negotiating peace, the brutal village burning sequence, the tangled web of Ivarr’s relationships and motivations, the twists of the peaceful alliance and Rhodri’s fate, and finally, the Ivarr boss fight are just too good all in tandem to not take first place.
--
I’m conflicted looking back on these.
There’s many that feel even more empty than I remember them being now that I draft them as text. However, a surprising number of highly-rated arcs aren’t actually part of the main quest.
Ultimately, I’m left bewildered at the scale and scope of the epic that this game took me on. I was so fatigued by the end of it, but in hindsight so happy I completed it.
submitted by TheBlaringBlue to assassinscreed [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 15:01 FelicitySmoak_ Tuesday, May 14, 2013 - Jackson v. AEG Live Day 11

Trial Day 11
Katherine Jackson, Rebbie and Trent are at court.
Choreographer Travis Payne & Katherine Jackson spoke briefly in the courtroom before the jury came in. They seemed cordial
Travis Payne Testimony
AEG direct
Payne is wearing a black jacket with a gold emblem on the shoulders with the word "MJ" & a pair of wings
Payne said he was concerned about MJ missing rehearsals. He didn't know why he wasn't showing up, but MJ was also working on an album and a book
Payne said he did not think that Jackson had a problem abusing prescription medications. He acknowledged that Jackson missed rehearsals and he saw the singer shivering or appearing cold in some of his final rehearsals
He worked with Jackson beginning in the 1990's and testified that he never saw Jackson drink alcohol or take any medications. Michael also never discussed his medical treatments, Payne said
Payne told the jury he advised MJ he was looking thin.
"Michael said he was 'getting down to my fighting weight', which I took to mean that he was preparing for the performances", Payne testified. "I had no reason to doubt him"
Payne says he was satisfied with the response.
Payne said there was one day (6/19) when MJ was cold. He thought the frustration had him on edge. When Jackson needed to be layered in blankets and required a heater to be comfortable, Payne said, he believed Michael was merely fighting a cold.
"No one else was cold. He had flu-like symptoms"
"Sometimes he was tired and lethargic and had to be, not convinced, but supported throughout rehearsals," Payne recalled
Payne said that in April, May & June, MJ missed 5 rehearsals with the whole group. He said one time Ortega sent Michael home
Bina shows an email from Ortega to Gongaware on Jun 14:
"Were you aware that Michael's doctor didn't permit him to attend rehearsal yesterday? Without invading his privacy, it might be a good idea to talk to his doctor to make sure everything he requires is in place. Who is responsible for Michael getting proper nourishment/vitamins/therapy every day? Personally, I feel he should have a top Nutritionist and Physical Therapist working with him on a regular basis. The demand on this guy is mentally and physically extraordinary! The show requirements exhaust our 20 year olds. Please don't underestimate the need to stay on top of this"
Another part of the same email chain, from Gongaware:
"Frank and I have discussed it already and have requested a face-to-face meeting w/ the doctor... We want to remind him that it's AEG not Michael Jackson who's paying his salary We want him to understand what is expected of him. He has been dodging Frank so far
Payne said his understanding was that AEG was paying Dr. Murray's salary not Michael. The doctor was there to oversee many things, Payne said. Payne explained he didn't have much reason to question Dr. Murray since he thought that a doctor selected to work with Michael was top notch.
Bina asked Payne whether he ever met Conrad Murray. The choreographer says he met Murray twice. Payne says the first time he met Dr. Murray was at the Carolwood house.
"I was going up the steps, Dr. Murray going downstairs, Michael introduced us."
Payne was coming up from the basement to the middle floor. Studio was at the basement. Payne said he never went to the top floor of the house. He says the second time was at the Staples Center, after a rehearsal and Jackson was leaving for the day. Both meetings were brief.
When asked how Michael performed on June 23 & 24:
"He was having his process, I didn't expect him to be like he would in front of a crowd," Payne explained. "He was not at show standards ... I didn't expect him to be as he would be in front of a crowd."
Payne: "It ebbed and flowed. Some days were good, some days were not as good."
The last two days were good.
"I thought he was in his way to the goals he set himself," Payne told the jury.
He didn't have any question that MJ would be able to perform , adding that he and others were impressed while watching Jackson rehearse at Staples Center on June 23/24, 2009.
Payne described the day MJ died: He was headed to rehearsal at Michael's home, got a call from his mother who said she saw reports on the news. Payne heard news on the radio, called Staples Center spoke to Stacy Walker, she said they were rehearsing. He was told to go to Staples.
"We were optimistic of his arrival," Payne said explaining they were expecting Michael to rehearse at the Staples Center.
Payne said Ortega got a series of calls. He remembers Kenny saying:
'tell me something that will make me know it's you and that this is true'

" I remember him (Kenny Ortega) collapsing in his seat and crying," Payne testified
Payne said he never saw Michael drink alcohol or take medication but
"Sometimes, in rehearsal, Michael would appear just a little loopy, under the influence of something, but mostly when he would come to the rehearsals from the dermatologist," Payne testified.
That happened two to four times in the weeks before his death, he said. Payne told that he didn't think Jackson had a problem with prescription drugs
"Michael was undergoing personal cosmetic procedures, so he could feel great and do a good job," Payne said.
Payne also said he appeared groggy in the morning sometimes, which he attributed to lack of sleep
"Mr. Jackson just explained to me that he had trouble sleeping, that he was tired, and that satisfied me," Payne testified.
He stated that he's not sure how much weight MJ had lost
Payne mentioned one day in particular at a meeting with Andre Crouch and singers, MJ seemed a little out of it
Payne said at one point, he & others tried to bring in a top physical therapist who works with Olympic athletes to help Michael. Jackson didn't work w/physical therapist flown in for him.
"At the last minute we realized that Michael was not going to go through with it. He was just not comfortable with the invasion of personal space."
Bina played a clip of This Is It from Jun 4 showing the green screen and making of "Drill" and Michael talking about the cool moves, dancing. Payne said the idea was to show the rehearsals and how things came together. The footage itself wasn't altered, but there was editing. Payne said they picked the best of the rehearsal to include in the documentary. He wanted to reshoot some scenes but was not allowed. Payne, who was an associate producer on the This Is It documentary, said the footage of Jackson had not been retouched or altered.
Jackson cross
Attorney Brian Panish cross examined Payne. He asked if Michael ever performed the entire show from beginning to end. Payne said "No"
"Was he ready to perform for an audience?", Panish asked.
"I thought he was on his way to the goals he had set for himself," Payne answered. "All I saw was improvement and getting closer to the goals"
Payne's impression was that MJ loved being a father. He said he saw the beauty of their relationships, loyalty to one another.
"When we rehearsed, we had meals together," Payne recalled, talking about Michael and all three children.
Payne thought the relationship between MJ and Prince was awesome, Michael was a proud father, great to see how they interacted. Prince wanted to be a director, Michael would point out things to him during rehearsal should that be his career, Payne remembered.
As to Paris Jackson, Payne said he saw a very protective young lady, smart, astute, with knowledge of the production, very hands on. Paris, who was 11 at the time, was
"a very retentive young lady who was very, very smart, very astute," Payne testified. "She had full knowledge of the day-to-day operations, from the time of lunch and what it was going to be, she was hands on -- far beyond her age," he said. "She had a lot of responsibility, which I think she welcomed"
Payne said she was "the female of the house," and also "a daddy's girl."
"She really loved her father," he said. "At that time, she was coming to find out his global successes and presence, so she would wear her Michael Jackson t-shirt, headband and bag," he said.
It was Paris who would bless the food when they were have lunch with their father at home, he said.
"She was always the most vocal of the three children and was very concerned about many of the details of the house, was the temperature correct, what do you want to eat," Payne testified. "She just handled a lot for her young age"
Blanket, who was 7 when his father died, was the most quiet of the three. He liked to watch his father rehearsing his dances with Payne in the basement studio of their home, Payne said.
"He was quiet, but always right there with his dad," he said.
Michael guided and mentored him. Payne said he would be proud if MJ was his father and agreed the children suffered a tremendous loss. When rehearsing with Jackson at his Holmby Hills residence, Payne said the singer clearly delighted in being a father and shared meals with all three
"I saw the beauty of their relationships. I saw their loyalty to their father, I saw his loyalty to them. Their father enlightened them and taught them", he testified. "I was very proud to see Michael as such a loving father."
Panish: "Was Paris a Daddy's girl?"
Payne: "Yes, I believe so"
His description of the close relationship Paris (15) and Prince (16) had with their father four years ago could foreshadow the significance of the children's testimony later in the trial.
Payne always carries a video camera with him and shot videos of rehearsal. AEG took the footage that Payne shot and never returned to him. Email from Randy to Paul:
"Make sure you take out the shots of Michael in that red jacket... He looks way too thin and skeletal."
Payne said he was not aware of the email. He said Michael looked thin, but not skeletal. He doesn't know if Paul/Randy took any the footage out. The email was not displayed for the jury
As for Michael's relationship with Katherine, Payne said
"there's no secret that he loved his mother very much. It is kind of common knowledge"

"Karen Faye is a make up artist. She designed the make up, was always there when Michael was there", Payne testified.
Payne said Faye and MJ had a long term working relationship. They spent a lot of personal time together. Faye was concerned and frustrated with how Michael looked. She went to Payne kind of in an aggressive way. Payne told her to report to Ortega.
Payne said he wanted MJ to have a physical therapist, nutritionist, massage therapist, and have his family around. He said this was a different scenario.
"This was the first time MJ was working with AEG," Payne testified, saying he had always been hired by MJJ production before.
Payne said this was the first time Michael was not the sole producer of the show. Payne started working without a signed contract. He was being paid by AEG. Panish showed Payne's written contract. It is between Payne and AEG, beginning April 1, 2009. The contract said only AEG could cancel it. He testified that there was a delay in his contract with AEG because the salary was not in line with his standard charges, but that things worked out after he had a conversation with Jackson. Payne also said he believed AEG was paying Murray's salary, not Jackson
Payne was hired and paid by AEG. His contract was with AEG.
Panish: "Who could fire you. AEG?"
Payne: "I'm sure"
Things became heated when Panish inquired about a text message Karen Faye sent to Payne that accused him of lying to the media after Michael's death. He said earlier Faye had approached him in an "aggressive" way about her concern for Jackson's health but he told her to take her concerns to Ortega.
"I do not remember receiving a text message from Karen Faye asking why I was lying to the media," Payne explained.
Panish: "Were you upset when MJ died?"
Payne: "Yes"
During cross-examination, Payne was shown several photos of premieres for the This Is It documentary .Panish shows a picture of Payne at the red carpet premiere. He agreed he was happy about the premiere. In one, Ortega & AEG executive Randy Phillips flank Jackson's manager, Frank DiLeo, who has a cigar hanging out of his mouth. All three are grinning. Brian Panish, the attorney for Jackson's family, remarked that everyone looked pretty happy
Payne said he wasn't privy to details of what was expected of Dr. Murray. AEG was producepromoter, but MJ was the star, had to be happy
Panish reminded Payne that he had testified in his deposition that AEG was
"trying to protect its investment"

"I don't have a dog in this race so I'm not on either side", an aggravated Payne countered adding that he felt Panish was being aggressive. "I'm just saying I don't want to be painted as somebody who's trying to mask anything".
After several hours of testy exchanges with Panish, his voice quivered and he dabbed his eyes with a tissue.
"I'm just trying to have a conversation with you and tell the truth."
Panish asked Payne if defendants' attorney approached him during lunch to show him some documents. He said yes, he saw parts of his deposition
Under cross examination, Payne acknowledged that some of Jackson's behavior, including grogginess, lethargy, insomnia and occasional paranoia, were possible symptoms of prescription drug abuse. He also said that despite testifying earlier that he worked with Jackson one-on-one five days a week, he couldn't recall how many rehearsals the singer actually attended
Panish after lunch break got Travis Payne to concede Jackson wasn't present for a May 19, 2009 rehearsal. Payne also conceded that Jackson was a no-show for a June 22, 2009 rehearsal. Panish confronted Payne saying that yesterday he said he was with MJ at a dance studio on May 19, that they were up on their feet & danced.
Panish: "Sir, Michael was not with you May 19, 2009, was he?"
Payne: "No"
Panish: "He was at the doctor"
Payne: "If you're saying, I'm not disputing"
Panish said that on May 19, Michael was having a cyst removed at Dr. Klein's office, so he could not have been rehearsing with Payne.
Panish then said on Jun 22 MJ wasn't there either, "was he?"
Payne said he didn't know.
Panish said MJ was at another doctor's office
Payne said he may have made a mistake about Jackson's whereabouts & he didn't know his personal schedule. Travis Payne had testified yesterday that he and Jackson ran through certain songs on May 19th. He said today he was testifying based on the schedule and notes he compiled and that his recollection might be wrong
"We're human, sometimes we make mistakes," Payne explained, saying he's not disputing that Michael was or wasn't there on those dates.
Payne said there was always something for Michael to do.
"He needed to come to rehearsal, it was part of the job"
Payne said Michael had a hard time picking up some of the material. He was having trouble learning dances, Payne says. Email from Ortega to Gongaware:
"He has been slow at grabbing hold of the work"
Jackson was having trouble learning dances, choreographer Travis Payne says
"Prior to June, I noticed Mr. Jackson was thinner than I recognized him," Payne said, noting he never saw sudden weight change in MJ.
Second time Payne saw Dr. Murray was the night before Michael died at Staples Center.
"I wanted Michael to go home and go to sleep" Payne recalls. Payne said something about Murray felt off, Payne said. "He didn't feel like an official doctor"
Payne knew MJ had sleeping problems and that Dr. Murray was treating him for that. Ortega also knew; Payne thought Gongaware was aware too. Payne also said he and Ortega knew that Jackson was having sleep problems. Attorney Brian Panish asks if AEG executives knew. There were several objections, and Payne was only allowed to answer "No" as to whether Paul Gongaware knew about Michael's sleep problems
Panish asked Payne about choosing Jackson's dancers for This Is It. Payne says they were whittled down from 5,000 applicants. Applicants submitted video clips and their submissions were used to cull down potential dancers from there. Payne said they received 5,000 applications for dancers, about 2,500 showed up for the audition.He taught them some dance moves, and the pool was further narrowed down. Michael chose the dancers
Panish then asked Payne whether he knew how many doctors AEG interviewed to work with Jackson on This Is It. "No", Payne says. Payne also says he isn't aware how much interviewing or investigation into Murray that AEG did.(Panish's point appears to be that there was more scrutiny of backup dancers than Conrad Murray)
During preparations for This Is It, Michael at times seemed "under the influence of something" and once couldn't take the stage because he appeared incoherent, Payne testified.
Payne said he was aware that Jackson had problems sleeping and chalked up the singer's sometimes erratic behavior to sleep aids or sedatives from his dermatologist visits.
"You have to understand that one always says hindsight is 20/20. In the moment I had no inkling of what, ultimately, what was revealed until Mr. Jackson's passing", he said
Payne saw Michael tired and fatigued. He agreed that those symptoms could be signs of drug addiction. Payne was aware that MJ was losing weight during rehearsals and he had not seeing him lose weight like that before.
"He was not in great physical shape and was sore,working up his stamina. Lack of sleep and proper nourishment were starting to show", Payne said.
Payne says at one point, he told Kenny Ortega that Jackson appeared "assisted" (meaning that he thought he was on drugs\meds)
Payne said some people were concerned about the goals not being met, including Randy Phillips and Paul Gongaware. Payne learned what Demerol was after MJ died. He also remembers a mention of Demerol in the song "Morphine".
Panish asked if MJ knew the lyrics of his songs.
"I think he did, he knew most of them, but he wanted to have a Teleprompter for safety.He didn't want to make any mistakes, to refresh his memory. Also to use for sequence of songs",Payne said.
Payne agreed that it was very unusual for Michael to have a Teleprompter with the lyrics of his own songs. He never used it before. Payne didn't specify which songs Jackson wanted the teleprompter for
Payne said a body double was requested for Michael. Misha Gabriel was his body double, but shorter than him. Some of the scenes in the documentary are with the body double, Payne testified. Payne remembers at the Culver Studios in Smooth Criminal there was a stunt and Misha was asked to jump through a glass plate
Payne said most the time, MJ was present at rehearsals. "It wasn't a big deal," he expressed
Panish showed an email from the band leader Michael Bearden:
"Michael is not in shape enough yet to sing this stuff live and dance at the same time. He can use the ballads to sing live and get his stamina back up, Once he's healthy enough and has more strength I Have full confidence he can sing the majority of the show live. His voice sounds amazing right now, he needs to build it back up. I still need all big dance numbers to be in the system so we can concentrate on choreography."
Payne was aware that AEG was considering in mid June pulling the plug on the show. He said Michael looked exhausted & paranoid on Jun 19. Jackson's condition and missed rehearsals led to talk within the last 10 days of Jackson's life that AEG Live LLC, which was promoting "This Is It," might cancel the concert series.
"It was 'We've got to get this together or the plug may be pulled,'" Payne says
Payne was working for AEG and said he relayed his concerns about Jackson's possible prescription drug use and that he was exhibiting troubling signs of insomnia, weight loss and paranoia in his final days to tour director Kenny Ortega. Jackson was struggling to get into shape for the shows, and Payne said his voice coach suggested using a voice track for fast-paced songs until the singer's stamina improved.
Payne went to Michael's house on June 20. He was cold and had to light the fireplace and rub his hand and feet to warm himself up
Panish showed a picture of Michael on June 24 rehearsing "Thriller"; Payne said MJ improved but was not at his best yet.
Panish: "Around June 20, was Ortega in the mindset that Michael Jackson was not ready for this?" Payne: "Yes"
Payne said Michael was not ready, it was not the Michael he knew. He died four days later. But he didn't see anything that alarmed him on June 23/24
Panish:" Did you see that Michael was getting pressured to get everything done in the last days?" Payne: "Yes"
Payne said he could sense something was wrong, but didn't know what it was. He said Jackson's performances in the final days of his life were impressive, and it felt
"like we were definitely on an upswing"

"I never doubted Michael because he was the architect of this and he wanted to do it, so part of my responsibility was to help him get there", Payne said, his voice racked with emotion.
Panish ended his direct examination of choreographer Travis Payne with three questions.
Panish: "Did you see that Michael Jackson appeared to be pressured to get everything done at the Staples last rehearsals?"
"Yes," Payne said
Panish: "The pressure about the shows started to manifest itself physically in Michael Jackson?"
"Yes," Payne replied.
Panish:" You could sense that something was wrong, you just didn't know what it was?"
Payne responded "Yes."
AEG re-direct
Payne's demeanor changed after Panish finished questioning him. He was holding back tears when the AEG attorney started re-direct examination. For the next several moments, Payne blinked and dabbed both eyes with a tissue. It was the first time he'd gotten emotional on the stand.
Bina in re-direct asked: "Do you think you could get him there?"
Payne: "Absolutely!"
Bina asked Payne again about how many rehearsals Jackson attended. Payne said MJ was present a significant amount of the days he was scheduled to work but he couldn't recall dates, precisely how many that Jackson attended.
As to Gongaware's email regarding what was expected of Dr. Murray, Payne said the inconsistencies with Michael missing rehearsals warrant a talk. Payne said he thought Dr. Murray was there to care for his patient, making sure right nutritionist was there, to get him ready for the show. Payne never discussed with MJ about his doctors or personal affairs. Payne and Faye were professionals with each other, but not friends.
"Production felt he wasn't coming to rehearsals enough, and that was frustrating to some of the staff," Payne testified. "I had a concern we needed to create a show Michael would enjoy doing it," Payne explained
She also showed Payne photos from the This Is It premiere. First photo is of Payne shaking Jermaine Jackson's hand at the movie premiere. Bina also showed another image of smiling Jermaine, Tito, Jackie and Marlon with Payne at the premiere. Payne cried saying he had been through so much and the rough part was behind them. He was pleased to show the fans what the show was to be.
Jackson re-cross
In re-cross, Panish notes that none of Michael's brothers are part of this lawsuit.
Panish then asked Payne whether Katherine Jackson and Michael's kids went to the premiere. Panish says Katherine Jackson & her grandchildren didn't go to the premiere because they weren't over Jackson's death. Payne said he didn't think anyone was over Jackson's death when the film premiered in late 2009.
Court Transcript
submitted by FelicitySmoak_ to WhereWasMJToday [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 15:01 AggressiveVictory00 Ketones in my urine but no keto diet or diabetes??

Yesterday I went to urgent care because of stabbing/excruciating pain in the left side of my back, about where my left kidney, kind of right below my ribcage. This was a kind of pain I have never felt before, literally rolling on the floor in pain. It got significantly worse within an hour which is why i went in so quickly. I was also severely nauseous and threw up a little before i left. It was slowly lessening in pain while i was at the dr's, when i got there they said they didn't have an ultrasound to check for a kidney stone but they'd do a urinalysis to see if i had a uti ect.
The results came back and everything else was normal but I had 3+ ketones in my urine. Because of this they tested my glucose which was 85 and i hadn't eaten in 8ish hours (ate at 9am, test was at 5ish). The 85 result seemed to rule out diabetes because they didn't mention it again.
Their next step was to refer me to a different urgent care so they could give me an ultrasound. by this point the pain had become pretty minor and since that was really all i came there for I told them I was going to go home and wait to see if the pain came back, and if it did i'd go in. Well the pain never returned even close to the level it was before so I didn't go back.
I was trying to do some research on the ketone thing because while i used to do the keto diet a few years ago i don't really know what's normal or not. Anyways my confusion is that I couldn't really find any kind of explanation for why there would be that many ketones in my blood? like none of them made sense or like checked out with my symptoms if that makes sense. I am not pregnant, i have not drank alcohol in weeks, diabetes does run in my family but i think its type 2 which I thought was almost entirely environmental based and I eat well. My main issue is that a lot of the symptoms of most of the things overlap with the potential symptoms of a medication i started about 2-3 weeks ago. For example: extreme thirst, numbness/tingling/staticky feeling in my arms or face (not actually sure if this is an adderall thing it just started about a week ago), dry mouth, dizziness/lightheaded, nausea, weight loss. I'm on adderall for context. So I am experiencing all of those things but also it could be explained by the med.
I also went through the foods i've eaten the last few days to see if maybe i accidentally put myself into ketosis by my diet but i eat wayyy more than the 20-50 range that would put me in ketosis. Like the tortillas i've been using are 40 alone lol. I also bought those little ketosis test strips because i wanted to see if it was a fluke or something or would just go away on its own but i've tested twice since and both times the results are relatively the same and the number converts to about what the urinalysis reported (between 2.7 and 3.5ish but it's a color scale so not super accurate).
So I guess my question is should I be concerned? I'm also feeling pretty "weak" like you know the feeling when lifting your arms feels like so much work. But also i'm getting nervous that it's all in my head if that makes sense. I am not feeling the pain in my kidney area anymore but the ketone thing is kind of throwing me for a loop, i just kind of assumed I had a kidney stone so this came from left field a little bit. I'm debating if I should go to the dr today because I don't know if this is just a thing that can "happen" and it's fine. Also what are some things it could be? I just can't seem to find a reasoning that makes sense other than diabetes and that was seemingly ruled out.
submitted by AggressiveVictory00 to DiagnoseMe [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 14:53 AggressiveVictory00 Ketones in my urine but no keto diet or diabetes??

Yesterday I went to urgent care because of stabbing/excruciating pain in the left side of my back, about where my left kidney, kind of right below my ribcage. This was a kind of pain I have never felt before, literally rolling on the floor in pain. It got significantly worse within an hour which is why i went in so quickly. I was also severely nauseous and threw up a little before i left. It was slowly lessening in pain while i was at the dr's, when i got there they said they didn't have an ultrasound to check for a kidney stone but they'd do a urinalysis to see if i had a uti ect.
The results came back and everything else was normal but I had 3+ ketones in my urine. Because of this they tested my glucose which was 85 and i hadn't eaten in 8ish hours (ate at 9am, test was at 5ish). The 85 result seemed to rule out diabetes because they didn't mention it again.
Their next step was to refer me to a different urgent care so they could give me an ultrasound. by this point the pain had become pretty minor and since that was really all i came there for I told them I was going to go home and wait to see if the pain came back, and if it did i'd go in. Well the pain never returned even close to the level it was before so I didn't go back.
I was trying to do some research on the ketone thing because while i used to do the keto diet a few years ago i don't really know what's normal or not. Anyways my confusion is that I couldn't really find any kind of explanation for why there would be that many ketones in my blood? like none of them made sense or like checked out with my symptoms if that makes sense. I am not pregnant, i have not drank alcohol in weeks, diabetes does run in my family but i think its type 2 which I thought was almost entirely environmental based and I eat well. My main issue is that a lot of the symptoms of most of the things overlap with the potential symptoms of a medication i started about 2-3 weeks ago. For example: extreme thirst, numbness/tingling/staticky feeling in my arms or face (not actually sure if this is an adderall thing it just started about a week ago), dry mouth, dizziness/lightheaded, nausea, weight loss. I'm on adderall for context. So I am experiencing all of those things but also it could be explained by the med.
I also went through the foods i've eaten the last few days to see if maybe i accidentally put myself into ketosis by my diet but i eat wayyy more than the 20-50 range that would put me in ketosis. Like the tortillas i've been using are 40 alone lol. I also bought those little ketosis test strips because i wanted to see if it was a fluke or something or would just go away on its own but i've tested twice since and both times the results are relatively the same and the number converts to about what the urinalysis reported (between 2.7 and 3.5ish but it's a color scale so not super accurate).
So I guess my question is should I be concerned? I'm also feeling pretty "weak" like you know the feeling when lifting your arms feels like so much work. But also i'm getting nervous that it's all in my head if that makes sense. I am not feeling the pain in my kidney area anymore but the ketone thing is kind of throwing me for a loop, i just kind of assumed I had a kidney stone so this came from left field a little bit. I'm debating if I should go to the dr today because I don't know if this is just a thing that can "happen" and it's fine. Also what are some things it could be? I just can't seem to find a reasoning that makes sense other than diabetes and that was seemingly ruled out.
submitted by AggressiveVictory00 to AskDocs [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 06:19 TotallyNotAjay Quick Kodokan Goshin Jutsu Clinic Write up

This weekend, Ajax Budokan invited Kodokan 9th dan and former head of the Tokyo Police dojo, Michio Fukushima Sensei, to conduct a 4 hour clinic for Kodokan Goshin Jutsu. It was open to yellow belt and higher, though the majority consisted of Yudansha. My senseis had the honour of demoing the kata, as Fukushima Sensei's health did not permit presenting each technique multiple times, though he did show some of the finer details, demo mechanics, and gave comments as to what was good and displayed what could be fixed. He also talked about older versions of the techniques and how/ why they have been changed. Regretfully, it totally slipped my mind to film during the seminar, as there was a lot of good information, translated (and left untranslated) by the interpreter.
Some General Notes on Fukushima Sensei Fukushima Sensei on multiple occasions mentioned how one should carry themselves and move, more specifically he talked about how he usually sees toris get away with bad shisei as uke's attacks are generally to kind or passive, and that if they genuinely attacked, most toris would be off balance. Additionally he mentioned that a lot of IFJ competition now is power judo, where the technical aspects are replaced for brute force and speed.
The main note he makes is to keep the knees alive (slightly bent and bouncy like a spring), and that most novices have a tendency to straight leg their kata. He also made it a great point to explain the logic of the waza in the kata and how the kuzushi is created. Other important details he talked about were that uke shouldn't be a limp noodle once his attack is over, that tori should keep good sabaki (unclear if sabaki was short hand for tai sabaki as he also stated tai sabaki on different occasions (the details were paraphrased by the translator)), and the usage of rotation from the hips to maintain proper balance (tai sabaki). Additionally, he talked about things relating to karada (the body) and some anecdotes (such as stories about judoka such as Michigami, Isao Okano, and Nagaoka if I was hearing correctly, though I don't speak Japanese, only somewhat familiar with it), which were left untranslated or paraphrased sadly.
Emphasised details in the kata (not explanations or descriptions of how to do a technique) and my experiences (FYI Sensei mostly used the Tomiki names for the waza Tori applied)
Attacks when held
  1. Ryote dori - my partner and I (both new to this kata for the most part) went in on this one and struggled as we didn't see the detail of thumb in hand for the lock (blind leading the blind, though we later worked near a kind pair after this who helped check more closely as they were experienced in the kata)
    1. Yahazu (hook notch shaped hand [thank you Mr. Gatling for pointing that out]) is very important to direct uke's arm
    2. You aren't pulling the arm away to free it, you are pushing your elbow forward which pressures uke's arm
    3. Te gatana to the uto (point between uke's eyes)
    4. When applying the lock (te gatame), make sure to rotate uke's hand such that the fingers are pointing up
    5. When applying the lock, take the uke's arm in the direction perpendicular to the line made by his feet
  2. Hidari eri dori - I particularly liked this one, though my uke was confused the first few times as he kept trying to apply waki gatame.
    1. Tori must grab underneath uke's hand on the lapel when stepping back
    2. When grabbing uke's hand to break the grip and apply the lock (kote hineri), tori should have his thumb in between uke's thumb and fingers, and to take the uke's arm in the direction perpendicular to the line made by his feet
    3. Uke should try to maintain jigo tai rather than lean so the lock is applied cleanly
    4. Tori's hand should not be limp when delivering the strike
  3. Migi eri dori - I couldn't get kote gaeshi to work properly, will have to practice and ask my sensei about it later, same with my partner
    1. Tori should maintain a upright posture as uke pulls him forward, and use the landing of his foot to drive his hand for the uppercut to uke
    2. Tori should try to keep uke's hand attached to his centerline as he makes tai sabaki
  4. Kata ude dori - My uke was very stiff, so applying the initial lock to him proved difficult, though he claims he felt it. I found this kata easy to remember as the legs go left right left right (step, step, tai sabaki, kick, then lead with the right for the lock)
    1. You are kicking with the side of the foot
    2. The step before the kick pivot around so your feet are almost parallel
    3. For waki gatame, you should be standing inside his feet, near parallel to the line perpendicular to his feet
  5. Ushiro eri dori - I had experience with this one as sensei had taught during some free time a while back
    1. The parry with the arm was stated to also be the preferred way to receive punches, though take that as you will (though it is a common method in karate as well)
    2. The strike should be to the suigetsu (solar plexus)
    3. Trap uke's hand with your head so that it can't wiggle all over the place when applying the lock
  6. Ushiro jime - My partner and I both had a tendency to lift the shoulder off after spinning out, will have to work on that. I will be honest, had I known this escape, I probably would have come out of an incident a few years back (before I started Judo) rather unscathed as I was jumped and then kicked on the ground by a person who was quite a pain.
    1. The attack and initial defence are identical to that of katame no kata, following which tori rotates out
    2. Keep pressure with your shoulder until your grip has been changed
  7. Kakae dori - We didn't have enough mat space to finish the throw without running into other groups, but the technique is surprisingly effective. Though I couldn't initially find out how to do the armlock and had to ask my sensei about it, now it's pretty easy.
    1. Rotate the arm away from you (clockwise from your perspective) and pull uke's arm into you
    2. During the initial stomp, straighten up and raise your arms to loosen uke's grip
Attacks when at a distance - I got less time to try these in general as I wanted my partner to get a feel for them as they are a bit more complicated and he is less experienced
  1. Naname uchi - this was a fun situation, it shows how a little bit of atemi can be used to setup a randori waza, and Fukushima Sensei complimented my senseis' performance saying that it was better than the current text book
    1. Te gatana is used to redirect the strike
    2. Osoto otoshi is performed
    3. Pushing the arm through is important to create the kuzushi necessary for the waza
  2. Ago tsuki - I didn't actually get a chance to try this one more than once as my partner struggled with it, he kept applying a shoulder lock by pushing on the elbow without the redirect with the thumb up (shoulder is still sore)
    1. when directing uke's attack up and away, do not lean back as then you are unstable
    2. Use yahazu to direct uke's elbow toward his ear
    3. As uke will not like this use the moment after releasing the elbow lock to throw him forward in the direction perpendicular to his feet.
  3. Gammen Tsuki - My partner really liked this one, I can see the uses as I've used similar entries when messing around with strikes + judo with this partner as I have a bit of karate experience
    1. Uke is meant to do a break fall, thus tori needs to get out of the way after releasing the choke
    2. Uke should realistically be aiming for where tori's uto would be if he did not evade
  4. Mae Geri - this was a relatively easy one to grasp, but quite a bit of practice is needed before a full force kick can be considered
    1. Rotate ukes foot outwards so that it is not easy for him to rotate in to escape
    2. In the original, tori would lift uke's leg high but many ukes ended up injured from hitting their heads, so now tori just pushes back
  5. Yoko geri - My sensei has introduced this one at the dojo before as well, though he prefaced it with about a minute of just practicing a side kick. My partner (who suffers from light knee pain) couldn't kneel during the finish
    1. The use of the te gatana to redirect the kick in the direction it is going, very similar to karates low block
    2. During the finish tori creates a void for uke to be thrown but in real life tori would throw uke onto his knee
Attacks with weapons - I understand people dislike these (reasonably in some cases), but I've found them to be useful points to explore
Attacks with a knife - Sensei Fukushima mentioned how despite my senseis making it look easy
Both my partner and I have practiced these quite a lot (I was the only one who was taught it by sensei but we practiced it on our own time), so not as many personal notes. Though I don't have a good experience so my brain switches to serious and my heart rate increases despite the fact that I know these are fake weapons.
  1. Tsukkake
    1. The elbow should be pushed forward (I've actually experimented with this in the past by asking uke to try to stab me as I applied the defence, and we've found after the initial push and strike, tori is in a relatively good position, be it to run away or finish the kata)
    2. Push the locked up arm up and towards uke, then guide him to the ground
  2. Choku zuki - I struggled to apply the waki gatame, I'm guessing it was control of the wrist that was the problem, this form is relatively straight forward and makes sense
    1. The strike should not be a boxer style punch, but more like the first punch in szkt
    2. uke should not go limp
    3. when moving away from uke, take him perpendicular to the line between his feet
  3. Naname Zuki - Personally I think this form is cutting it close in many regards, but the control tori has is quite surprising
    1. Don't grab the blade from the sharp edge
Attacks with a jo - PSA, no matter how much you trust your uke, mistakes happen (especially with such a solid weapon) so remain vigilant to mitigate damage
  1. Furi age - this was a relatively easy technique to grasp as it is an application of O soto gari setup with a palm strike to the chind
    1. Tori should enter as soon as uke begins to raise his arm, almost a preemptive entry
    2. Tori strikes at the ago (chin) with a palm strike, then places his hand on the throat for the throw
  2. Furi oroshi - My partner leant into the swing and wacked me on the forehead, it could've been worse but it just grazed the outer layer as I saw the jo come closer after my initial retreat and attempted to turn out of the way. Both a PSA for tori and uke. Tori do not keep your eyes off uke, and uke please don't lean into a swing, you are horribly off balance, and you make it harder for tori to read. Also uke don't speed up when you 2 are learning (I don't know why my partner chose too...)
    1. Do not hop back onto one leg and then towards uke with the other, it leads you to have bad posture
    2. Better to make a big retreat than get hit
    3. 2 strike, one ura ken (back fist), followed by knife hand push
    4. Uke's swing should be at a diagonal
  3. Morote zuki - I didn't get to practice this one as my partner was taken a bit aback after the previous incident and couldn't get the steps right for this one. Fukushima Sensei mentioned something along the lines of how a judoka was faced with a juken and couldn't figure out what to do, and thus this form was created to address that.
    1. Tori shouldn't be rowing the jo away to shake off and throw uke
    2. The arm puts pressure on uke's arm forward
    3. Tori should be trying to angle the jo down towards himself after the initial grab
Attacks with a gun - I struggled with all of these, but I think the principles are relatively sound. Though in real life, I'd most likely give up my valuables. Fukushima Sensei emphasised hip rotation in these movements, as he says that you want to direct the gun away without moving your feet, which is what uke would be seeing when looking at your pocket.
Always make sure to begin your defence after uke is clearly focused on checking your pockets, never when his focus is directly on you
  1. Shomen Zuke
    1. Grab the barrel of the gun thumb up
    2. During the disarm, push the gun's muzzle to face towards him
  2. Koshi Gamae - I kept getting the second hand wrong and thus the barallel was pointed towards me in the final attack, will need to work on that
    1. Grab the barrel of gun initially with the thumb down with your right hand, and push the gun so that it is horizontal after turning left, then grab the gun from below with your right
    2. make sure to not point the gun at yourself when hitting with the butt
  3. Haimen Zuke - this is quite a dangerous move in theory, but also one of the more likely ones
    1. Wrap uke's arm with your arm, but make sure to direct the muzzle up with the free arm
    2. [uke] should let go of gun, as this is a hard breakfall
Overarching and repeated themes in the kata
Overall, it was quite a good event, and I learned a lot. This kata isn't the most realistic with the attacks (though apparently a few people I know have used the ryote dori attack shockingly), but what I've learned so far is relatively sound, hopefully some time soon I can convince my partner to do some live resistance sparring with some gear on (which I have done with the knife portion with a plastic knife). Fukushima Sensei had a lot to say, as he was actively discussing his experiences and koshiki no kata after the seminar with another Japanese speaker, and I hope to be able to attend another one of his classes again someday.
Here are some videos featuring Michio Fukushima from a few years back, both where he was actively demoing, and where he had a slightly more corrective position.
https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1253474818155243
https://youtu.be/VKgdMJS9eck?si=bGMemLfG9aquAHr1
submitted by TotallyNotAjay to judo [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 04:56 cumpelstiltskin Need Advice on Amoxicillin

Hello, reddit doctors, I need your advice on what I should do
Background: 41 years old, physically fit male, first got sick late april (27-28th with severe flu like symptoms. Around May 4, I went to urgent care, got covid flu test done (all negative), had conjunctivitis in eyes (got antibiotic cream) and also did throat swab. Doctor at urgent care wouldnt give me oral antibiotics until throat culture came back. Next few days i was running low grade fever and I wanted antibiotics so I called telehealth and convinced a doctor to give me amoxicillin (500mg x 3 x 10 days). The throat culture ended up negative but i continued on the amoxicillin anyways as my symptoms drastically improved.
So i screwed up. On friday May 10th i was feeling much better so I decided to go out and have a few drinks. Later that night, the Aurora borealis was out, and i made a poor life decision. So I have adhd and for years I was taking adderall and dexedrine. I completely quit these drugs 2.5 years ago, but still had some left. So on friday night, I took some dexedrine, and having no tolerance anymore, I ended up on a weekend bender not sleeping, being high, not eating well, and just not taking care of myself. I kept using until sunday afternoon
Sunday night I started coughing a bit again. Fast forward to today (monday), i managed to sleep 6.5 hours, but I feel shitty and I keep bringing up bright yellow phlegm or sputum, my throat is kinda sore (probably from dry mouth), and now Im worried i might have ruined my amoxicillin treatment. Im obviously in withdrawal from my adhd meds and im tired, but I also i have a weird tingly metallic taste in my mouth.
I have two days left of amoxicillin, and im worried my infection will come back with a vengeance and be resistant to antibiotics once it is done. What should I do? Stop worrying, or should i get more antibiotics?
Sorry this ran a bit long.
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2024.05.14 03:01 ZachTheLitchKing [SerSun] Serial Sunday: Void!

Original Prompt

Chapter 26
"Okay, what about...that one. The five stars about...two handspans above that dune?" Cass asked.
Kher looked where Cass was pointing, holding his torch aside so he could get a clear view of the stars.
"That is one of the Twins," Kher said, "See the three stars to the right? That is her brother, fleeing the Serpent."
"Weird." Cass had unbraided her hair earlier in the night because of the chill. Now she was trying to hold it out of her face so she could see the stars clearly. "In Sammos they're the Mother and her child, running to embrace each other after being parted over the winter season."
"Or reaching for each when the winter floods wash the boy away," Charis added. They were riding on Cass's other side, holding their torch down low over the side of their camel to keep the light off of Cass's left arm. She appreciated the gesture.
"In Chol they don't' have a name for those stars," Cass continued, "but they do have a Serpent. I don't think it's visible this time of year though. And in Harenae it's the 'Father and Son'. The father's teaching his son how to hunt."
"Do they have a story in Desheret?" Kher asked.
"I haven't heard one." Cass turned in her saddle to look back along the short caravan. Kebb was nowhere to be seen, probably keeping vigil in the rear. Anatu was attached to one of the carts, which only left Nuu as someone she could see to ask.
"Nuu!" She called, waving. They looked her way, eventually approaching. "What do you call those stars?"
"Is there a tale to them?" Kher asked.
"The three bright ones?" They looked skyward vacuously for a moment. "That is Sobek, a large crocodile that follows the flood waters of the Great River. Those stars are his open maw."
"What about the five stars to the left of them?"
"The two lower ones," Nuu said while pointing, "are his body. The upper three are his tail curled around."
"Ah yes, I can see it!" Kher said excitedly. "A more creative tale, I think. I wonder how it is yours is so different from our tales. We call them the-"
"Hey, Cass," Charis whispered, leaning closer, "you mentioned I could see your arm after dark?"
She looked down at her bandaged limb and flexed her fingers uncomfortably. The wrappings were much tighter now that she'd had ample time out of the sun.
"Okay, but keep your torch away." She tugged on the knot holding the bandages in place, let them loosen, and unwrapped her arm. Charis gasped as her skin showed in the starlight with thin motes of light of its own.
Under the light of the sun or flame, Cass's arm was thin and the skin looked brittle and burnt. The comparison to burnt wood was not uncommon. But under the stars and moon it looked wholly different.
"Beautiful," Charis whispered, gazing at the black abyss. The colors and patterns within it were similar yet very different from the sky above. As Cass moved the lights moved as well, as though flowing through her limb. Never the same pattern twice.
"Thanks." People were always mesmerized by her arm at night. The ones who weren't convinced it was a blight of some sort, at least. She extended her hand to Charis. They looked up at her briefly for permission, then took her hand in theirs. Unlike during the day, there was no pain. Their skin didn't feel uncomfortably warm either. In fact it was rather cool and pleasant.
Charis tucked their long curls behind one ear as they laced their fingers with hers. She lifted her hand closer to their face so they could take a closer look.
"It's strange," they said softly, "your hand looks so different, so..."
"Weird?" Cass offered.
They shook their head. "No...magical. But if I close my eyes I would be unable to tell this hand from your other."
Weird, odd, cursed, strange, these were what Cass was used to hearing her arm called. The only person who'd ever complimented her on it like that - who'd called it magical - before was Helen. Back before the war, before she'd killed the King of Sammos. When their encounters were furtive and hidden at night.
"Oh?" Cass looked away and tried to change the subject. "Can't tell your left from right?"
Charis chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze.
"What's going on here?" Nuu asked while riding closer. Their torch illuminated Cass's arm and the pain instantly came back. It wasn't as bad as if she were caught out in sunlight, but the entwined fingers became sore. She only barely got her hand out of Charis's before her hand clenched reflexively.
"Damnit!" Cass swore.
"You need to back away, Nuu." Charis said hotly.
"Calm, everyone, calm." Kher spoke up. "No need for such vehemence. Nuu, I believe they want some...alone time?" He gave Cass a big smile through his braided beard.
Nuu narrowed his eyes at her. "I thought I saw her changing."
"I wasn't. You'd know if I was." She felt bad enough every time she saw their sister's brass leg. Being reminded that they were survivors of one of her attacks was not a pleasant vortex of emotions.
"If you lose control-"
"I don't lose control! I've never lost control. It's not something I'm not in control of." Cass clenched her left fist, reminding herself it wasn't worth hurting them. "Put your torch out and I'll show you."
"I've already seen it."
"You've seen it as an enemy. How about I show you what it actually looks like?" Cass turned in her saddle and extended the black and burnt-looking hand. Nuu recoiled, but there was a curiosity behind their eyes. They gave a quick glance at Charis who lowered their torch behind their camel again. Nuu did the same, and Kher followed suit. Bathed in darkness again, they all looked at the starry field of Cass's arm.
submitted by ZachTheLitchKing to TomesOfTheLitchKing [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 01:31 Withtimecomesgracex Dive into Sepsis: Management Tips, Vasopressor Preferences, and Field Experiences

Lets have a discussion about sepsis.
Sepsis is a potentially life-threatening condition caused by the body’s reaction to an infection. Sometimes referred to as “infection in the blood,” sepsis is a widespread infection that triggers a series of reactions in the body, resulting in the signs and symptoms we associate with sepsis. The most common cause of sepsis is Gram-negative bacteria, but sepsis can also be caused by other bacteria, viruses and fungi. Common points of entry into blood stream include the lungs as with pneumonia, kidney infections stemming from bladder infections, IV sites, surgical wounds and bed sores (decubitus ulcers). Sepsis can affect all ages and patients with a depressed immune response, such as people with HIV or diabetes, and the elderly are at increased risk for sepsis.
When faced with a foreign pathogen, the body launches an immune response to attack the infection. Macrophages and neutrophils are white blood cells responsible for phagocytosis, which is the engulfing of foreign pathogens in the body. They also participate in the inflammatory process by releasing molecules known as cytokines, which trigger a series of other inflammatory mediators, all in an attempt to combat the foreign pathogen. Interluken 1 (IL-1) and tumor necrosis factors (TNF) are two of the cytokines thought to have greatest role it the development of sepsis.
If there’s a continued toxin release, the above mentioned process goes on unregulated, and sepsis will develop. This process is known as the systemic inflammatory response syndrome (SIRS), and SIRS in the presence of an infection is sepsis. This process results in systemic vasodilation and alteration of cardiac output due to a decrease in preload. The patient progresses into distributive shock. Signs of sepsis include altered mental status, tachycardia, warm or cool skin, areas of mottled skin, tachypnea and hypotension. By nature of septic shock being a distributive shock, mean arterial pressure (1/3 systole + 2/3 diastole) can drop rapidly, resulting in decreased end-organ perfusion.
With all that out of the way, let's discuss:
1.)What are your go-to strategies for identifying and managing sepsis in the field?
2.)Any particular assessment tools or clinical signs that you find most reliable?
3.)Vasopressor Preferences: In cases of septic shock, which vasopressors do you prefer and why? How do you decide between levophed, epi, and dopamine, considering their different mechanisms of action and side effects?
4.)Experiences/Calls: Could you share any memorable calls where you managed a septic patient? What lessons did you learn, and how have they influenced your practice?
Sepsis management is a dynamic field, and there’s always more to learn from each other’s experiences. Whether it’s a tip that could save a life or a story that could teach a valuable lesson, your input is incredibly valuable.
submitted by Withtimecomesgracex to Paramedics [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 01:30 AstronautDue2395 My Experience

My Experience
TW for gross looking eye pictures but this is the reality of the surgery
Hi, so I have kind of a unique story but maybe it can help anyone like me who’s been scouring the internet for something relatable. Long read, but would’ve been comforting for me during my search. Feel free to skip to the ***** area for the surgery/recovery details.
Fairly new here (26F), been observing posts and taking in stories for a few months now. I was born blind in my left eye due to optic nerve hypoplasia (my right eye is also nearsighted as a mf). My eyes have never tracked together well, it was visible at a few months old, and that’s how I got my initial diagnosis. It was somewhat correctable for the sake of school pictures and family pictures for the first portion of my life (closing eyes, changing position, looking away and back right before the snap, etc). Around middle school I had friends and strangers start to mention occasionally that they couldn’t tell what I was looking at or they’d ask me what was wrong with my eye. Since then I’ve been insanely self conscious and uncomfortable in my own skin, refusing to make eye contact, take pictures, FaceTime, zoom call, etc. I learned about strabismus surgery a few years back, and researched into it for a while, ultimately deciding that I wouldn’t pursue it because of the high possibility of the surgery failing, either immediately, or somewhat soon after.
Some things have happened with my health and body over the last few years, and my esotropia had become more and more noticeable, and my eyelid was dropping heavily with it. When I was tired, it would barely appear open if I didn’t force it.
I finally got fed up with hating my own face and I wanted to consult with a new doctor and see what my options were, if I had any. He never made me feel uncomfortable, or like there was something wrong with me. He did mention the possibility of failure, specifically because of the blindness and inability to focus that eye, but at this point I was willing to take the risk (how much worse could it get if I was already disappointed in my own appearance and hiding from life).
************ Surgery Details In my case, because my turn was so severe, he had to operate on 4 of the 6 muscles in my eye. Along with that came a decent amount of trauma to my eye (more than the average surgery would cause). He corrected mine on an adjustable suture, had me meet back at his office a few hours later, did an exam, and adjusted my stitches while sitting in a chair in his exam room. I spent from about 6am until about 6pm with him in one way or another before I made it home. The following days I was mostly just sore and swollen and so so tired. I kept my eyes closed for the first day and a half, because moving my right eye also moved my left eye and caused me a decent amount of pain. My operation was a Tuesday, Saturday was my absolute peak day of pain. I was prescribed a narcotic that I used for the first 3 days I believe, I also didn’t take my adhd meds those early days, because I wanted to be able to sleep and relax. I took one week off work (I work thurs-sun) and went back the next Thursday. I took things easy at work for that week, and started my normal duties again about two weeks after surgery. My work is pretty physical, so even after two weeks of chilling, that first night of my normal shift had me sore again the next day. Never underestimate how involved your eye muscles are in things that you wouldn’t normally think would affect them.
I’m now 3.5 weeks post op, I just recently had my follow up with my surgeon, he snipped one of my sutures that had surfaced and was rubbing my eyelid inside and keeping it irritated and swollen. The next day my eyelid looked a lot better and my eye was a lot less itchy. I’ve been back on tobradex drops (iykyk) and it seems to be helping with my redness as well (it’s also causing a bit of pulsatile tinnitus, which is something I didn’t expect). When looking at a point on the wall about 15 feet in front of me, my eyes track perfectly, at this moment in time. When I look at things close to me, my eye still starts to turn, and I find myself getting tired eyes quicker from being on my phone than I had before. My eye is still dropping a bit low when I look towards my right, and it raises a bit when I look to my left. I also feel (and see) some resistance when looking upwards. He mentioned that depending on how things look at my 3 month appointment in July, I could need one more surgery to correct the muscle that’s causing those issues, or I could decide to let it ride. Normally people’s redness and swelling are pretty gone by 3.5 weeks out, but the amount of work that my eye needed has left me still pretty red now, and still somewhat swollen in my eyelid. My actual pupils seem to track straight almost all of the time, and I’m already finding myself wanting to make eye contact with people more, which alone gives me so much more confidence than I’ve ever experienced. I’ve had some friends and family just look at my eyes and say things like “wow your eye looks really good.” My only regret is not doing it sooner. I thought I had done the research and made the best call for myself, but I should’ve sought out a professional so much sooner. Even if it fails at some point down the line, I’m grateful for the relief I’ve gotten for this time period and I would probably seek it out again.
My eyelid still droops a bit, even outside of the hit of swelling I have; ptosis am I right? 😅 I may seek out a plastic surgeon to have that corrected after a potential second surgery or deciding against one. I’ve also been looking into Botox injections to potentially correct it as well.
For anyone interested in more of the surfacey surgery details; mine was performed at a hospital under general anesthesia and took about 2.5 hours to complete. My surgeon/ophthalmologist is located in SW Ohio, and I fully trust him with my vision and my appearance at this point. The surgery totaled just over $26,000 and insurance covered just under $24,000, leaving me to pay around $2,600 out of pocket. Anyone interested/located in that area, please feel free to ask for his info and I’ll send it right over. In my opinion, the surgery is worth the risk, because (to me) the worst thing that can happen (barring actual medical emergencies) is that you end up unhappy with your eyes positioning (which is probably why you’re getting the surgery anyway)
I’m going to attach pics that will show: my eye turn beforehand (pretty severe esotropia and browns syndrome); the way I left the hospital with my adjustable sutures in; right after I left the adjustment; the healing process for a few days; what I believe is my current final eye positioning; and what it’s looking like today, a couple days after having one suture removed, a few days on steroid drops, with at least 4 barely visible sutures still waiting to dissolve.
submitted by AstronautDue2395 to Strabismus [link] [comments]


2024.05.14 01:00 ClipperSmith Want to improve your running technique? Get a jump rope.

Here is an article I recently published on my Substack. If you'd rather read (or listen to an audio version) it outside of Reddit, you can do so here.
Why jump rope isn’t already touted as a leading running drill tool is completely beyond me. But then again…
I'm by no means an "experienced runner"—having started running in 2021 at the age of 34. So, at the time of this writing, about 3 years.
Despite this, I managed to silver-medal my age group in my first race ever.
And it was a 10k. And I was wearing barefoot-shoes.
And I had only been running before that race for about 3 months.
How the heck did I manage to pull this off?
The answer eluded me for a while. Then I remembered—ah, I’ve been jumping rope nearly every day for 2 years.
But how do those connect?
But first, why the heck would some guy start jumping rope at age 32?
About 2 years before I started running, I took up jump rope really just as a fun outdoor hobby.
Even though I was pretty inactive and a bit overweight, that’s not the reason I started skippin’.
One day, I came across some footage of boxer Lulu Hawton doing some jump rope training.
In addition to her seemingly effortless rope handling skills and rhythmic footwork, what caught my eye was a giant grin that spread across her face about 45 seconds into the video. While she was probably skipping to warm up for a match or a training session, something was abundantly clear.
She was having a blast.
And this was from a prize fighter! None of the usual boxer mean-mugging—she looked more like a kid on a carousel.
So, after buying a $10 jump rope on Amazon, I took to the driveway in my swim trunks (yes, I was so inactive, I didn’t own gym shorts).
And…whoo, did I suck.
After a few months of making puddles of sweat in my driveway as well as wheezing sounds so loud that I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t whistle EMS, I eventually got pretty decent at it.
And I lost about 45 pounds in 6 months—probably also from making some lifestyle changes merely to make jump rope less of a slog. Not the original plan, but hey, not too shabby.
After about a year, I found myself constructively critiquing other people’s beginner jump rope videos.
But how did that turn into running?
Though jumping rope is inherently enjoyable, 30-minute skipping sessions of staring at the wall without something in your headphones can be a bit drab.
One fateful day, about 2 years into being student of the jump rope, I began listening to the book Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall.
Even before I got to the end of the book, running—just like jump rope— sounded fun**.**
Yeah, I know that sounds counterintuitive—unless you’ve read the book.
“I knew aerobic exercise was a powerful antidepressant, but I hadn’t realized it could be so profoundly mood stabilizing and — I hate to use the word — meditative. If you don’t have answers to your problems after a four-hour run, you ain’t getting them.”
Ok, ok—I’ll bite.
I proceeded to dive into all of the normal “Couch to 5k” running programs I could find and took my jump rope to a nearby park with a 1k walking path—sprinkling in running between jump rope sessions.
But something wasn’t adding up.
There was a lot of advice about walk-running to build endurance until one could run a block, two blocks, a mile.
Not to brag, but I wasn’t experiencing most beginner snags.
**“Ah, I know why—**I did most of my newbie wind-sucking two years ago!”
This isn’t to say I wasn’t still periodically sucking wind but after two years of consistent boxer skips and double-unders, getting gassed felt like part of the fun and not a medical emergency.
I also felt much springier than the average beginning runner—able to run for miles all over the city in the most minimal of footwear.
And so, I tried my hand at my first race—a donut-themed 10k. And silvered in my age group.
(Ok, there was only two of us…but my time was still respectable. 😂)
Running became an amazingly freeing activity, like getting my driver’s license for my legs.
But I still didn’t understand why running was coming easier to me than the average newcomer.
Digging still deeper, I unearthed another exciting revelation—this time from multi-decade sub-3-hour Boston Marathon runner and one of the foremost running experts on the planet, Dr. Mark Cucuzzella.
“Running with a jump rope is also an amazingly simple drill for posture, balance, and rhythm.”
In other words—form. Overall technique.
Digging a little keeper and experimenting on myself, I discovered just how similar proper running technique and proper jump rope technique were.
Both require:
And so many other commonalities. The list unraveled before me on every run.
And like running, without proper technique, jumping rope just doesn’t work—though the consequences are different.
For a jump roper, due to the lower impact, the risk of injury is quite minimal.
Most newbie rope slingers will report sore calves, slightly tender Achilles tendons, and the odd shin splint if they go full Rocky at it. No need to worry, though—most of these injuries see themselves out as the skipper becomes more experienced.
However, for runners, the injury story is more severe.
The next time you’re at a park with a good path, take a seat on a bench and watch the runners. See if you can spot folks reaching far out in front of them with straightened legs—smashing heels into the pavement.
This style of running results in everything from screaming knees, plantar fasciitis, lower back pain, to hips issues.
But why do all of these occur to new runners, but rarely to new jump ropers?
Most new runners commit a major physiological no-no when they begin their running journey: they treat running like fast, aggressive, airborne walking.
“Well, what is it supposed to be?”
Synchronized jumping.
Simply put, proper running is nothing more than a series of coordinated single leg jumps through space with each landing compressing the springs for the next stride.
To compare this synchronized jumping to the aggressive airborne walking of heel-led running, you can test these in just a few seconds.
Step 1: Stand up.
Step 2: Kick off your shoes.
Step 3: Jump up and down three times.
How did you land?
Probably on your mid-foot, knee bent slightly, with your weight stacked above your pelvis.
And did you use your compressed “leg springs” to launch you into the following two jumps?
Oddly enough, if you were to add a jump rope to this, you would on your way to spinning side swings like Lulu Hawton.
If you were to take this same technique one foot at a time moving forward, you would be running in a way that increases speed, preserves stamina (springs!), and drastically decreases your likelihood of injury.
Let’s try the same test with a few tweaks.
This time, jump, but land on your heels.
Your knees probably remained fairly straight and you felt the impact in your ankles, knees, hips, and possibly even your lower back.
Now, imagine attempting to jump rope this way.
It simply doesn’t work.
Not only would there be no second jump due to the lack of spring but the pain would stop you in your tracks—even in cushioned shoes.
But if jump rope technique and proper running technique are nearly identical, what are aggressive heel landings doing in running?
While a jump roper landing on their heels would resemble Frankenstein’s monster in an express lane to an orthopedist, this is how many people perform the aggressive airborne walk—aka, a heel-striking, over-striding run.
But why do we run this way? Well, our shoes let us get away with it.
Thick heel cushioning and a bit of forward momentum do a great job of masking the pain of repeated blows against every joint up the chain—for a while, anyway. Eventually, the chickens come home to roost in the form of stress fractures, meniscus tears, plantar fasciitis, “runner’s knee,” IT-band syndrome, and more.
Not to brag (and maybe to knock on some wood), I have never experienced any of these injuries in my three years of running.
Is this because I’m some kind of running genius with all of the cheat codes? Haha, I wish! It’s simply sheer luck that I started out with jumping rope before running—an activity that shares the same injury-preventing techniques.
So, are the shoes totally to blame? No.
It is possible to run with proper form in shoes with raised, cushioned heels. But it’s not as easy.
When your heel is totally cushioned, you will be able to run with a heel strike in the same way you can hit your head against a brick wall while wearing a football helmet. And in both instances, it will eventually become less about the forces outside of the foam and more about the forces inside the cushion against each other that do the most damage.
“So, how can getting a jump rope help me become a better runner?”
Jump rope is a tremendous training tool for runners for the same reason why running barefoot can also be helpful—the feedback is immediate.
Though running with inefficient and injurious form is possible, the feedback from doing so isn’t so immediate. When it comes to jumping rope, however, you won’t get through too many skips if you don’t learn to utilize the springs in your legs. The rope doesn’t pull punches.
So, get a rope and get started.
If you’re new to jump rope, I would recommend acquiring two pieces of equipment.
Firstly, find a jump rope with a little bit, but not too much, weight to it. The weight will help you feel the position of the rope during it’s entire rotation and remain in better sync with your wrist spins
My favorite rope for this purpose is a 7mm PVC model called the Hererope, which costs a whopping $15. If you find this to be too thick or heavy, a cheap 5mm PVC model will work as well.
Secondly, to protect your rope and provide a nice jumping surface, I would recommend a large foam-rubber exercise mat. My favorite is a massive 78” mat for $32—which is probably the cheapest jump rope mat you will find.
When it comes to footwear, barefoot is ideal. This will help strengthen and mobilize your feet—including your likely overly-supported neglected arches.
And just how does one begin to jump rope?
Start with short seasons hopping with both feet—maybe 30 seconds on, 30 seconds rest. Aim for minimal muscular activation, instead, using the recoil of your tendons and ligaments for suspension and launch as much as possible.
From jumping with both feet, move onto learning an alternating leg bounce—essentially a jog skip. Right, left, right, left—all while keeping an imaginary belt level with the horizon.
By now, you’re essentially running in place with an extremely efficient technique.
Now, apply your jump rope skills to your running!
This is going to seem quite bizarre, but it is possible (and even beneficial) to take your jump rope for a run.
And there you have it!
You may find it quite helpful to return to this drill once or twice a week. Also if you find your form slipping a bit or becoming slugging mid-run, feel free to skip imaginary rope to try to correct your technique mid-stride. It will restore lightness and springiness to your running.
I still find myself bringing my wrists to my pockets and spinning imaginary jump rope handles if I feel my technique is collapsing a bit or if my running is becoming less springy.
And remember, most importantly—have fun. 👍
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submitted by ClipperSmith to beginnerrunning [link] [comments]


2024.05.13 22:28 Lord_Long_Rod Hunting Sasquatch for Communists, Featuring Ms. Anna Conda

During the course of my career as an alpha Sasquatch hunting, Dogman destroying, pussy crushing, luxury watch loving dude, I have run into this particular woman a few times. She is one part uber sensuality, and the other part deadly. Yes, I am speaking about the lovely, Anna Conda. I bring her up because I had another run-in with her last year.

Anna and I first joined forces, so to speak, when she acted as a go-between in my business deal with the Chinese to sell them bigfoot parts. See, I would hunt and kill the critters, cut them up, deliver the parts to Anna, who in turn gave me a suitcase containing unmarked American hundred-dollar bills, then she would transport the bigfoot parts to the Chinese. I was never really sure of what the sneaky-ass Chinese were doing with the body parts. All I knew for sure is that they are extracting certain materials from them, then synthesizing them with some other shit, creating some sort of drug. Whether it then becomes a bio-weapon or a dick stimulant, I do not know. Neither do I care. As long as they kept the hundies coming, I was good.

Now, while Anna is of Russian descent, she is a freelancer. She will work for any sick, skeevy motherfucker out there. She does not care. She has no conscience, at least not in the traditional sense as we understand it in western civilization. Today she is working for the Chinese, and tomorrow she may be working for Hamas. She is a slippery motherfucker.

So here is how it went down. At 11:32 p.m. on a Friday in September of last year I get a call on my cell phone. When the call came in I was balls deep into this hot little lass I picked up at the bus station a little earlier in the evening from an old swarthy chap named “Colorado Joe”. He wanted to sell me the girl. I was assured she was over 20 years old. I told him I needed to take her out for a test ride, which he agreed to.

So, there I was, balls deep in “Bing Bang Yun”, and my phone rings. Of course, I silence all incoming calls not in my contacts list. Thus, I knew that I must know the caller. In mid stroke I reached over to the nightstand to retrieve my cell and looked at it. It was a call from “Sergio”. I thought, “Oh shit…. I am going to have to cut the Oriental bang circus short.” When Sergio calls, I have to respond…immediately. He has the best blow on the east coast!!

“Hey, Serge! What’s up?”, I asked. All he said was, “Hooters. 2:00 a.m.”, then hung up. This was obviously the rendezvous for the transaction. Now, understand that Serge was not talking about the chicken wing restaurant. Hooters was code, in case the feds were listening in on the line. “Hooters” meant the titty bar out on Highway 69 called “The Plump Rump”. We had a communications code we used.

It was a long haul to the titty bar, so I needed to get moving. I had no time to return the girl to Colorado Joe, so I took her with me. I had her blow me on the way to the meeting with Sergio, telling her that her performance would make the difference on whether I save her from Joe or not. Of course, after she was done I tossed her out of my speeding truck and down, over the bridge, and into the Wendigo River below. I did not need any complications in my life right now.

I arrived at The Plump Rump at 2:00 a.m. on the dot. I saw the manager, Lou Skunt, sitting at the bar when I walked inside. I nodded. He walked over and said to me, “Use my office for the meeting The parties are already in there waiting for you.” I nodded and then headed to Lou’s office. Then it hit me: Lou said the “PARTIES” are already here. That is, parties, meaning more than one person. It was not just Sergio. It was 2 or more people! Lou was probably in for a cut of whatever was about to go down.

Something was bad fucked up!! I know for a fact that Sergio never brings anyone with him on a deal, at least not with me. He is too distrustful of people to do that, and too fucking mean to need protection. Something was wrong. I was just as likely to get whacked when I enter Lou’s office as anything else. I needed a moment to think things through.

I took a spot in front of one of the performance poles to watch a young, swarthy Mexican lass perform. My mind quickly strayed from the problem at hand to this brown chick’s ass and tits. She was not a great looking chick, but her body was smoking!! I quickly became aroused. I thought to myself, “Goddamn Asian bitches!! They are just like Chinese food – after 2 hours you are ready for some more!!”

When the little Mexican chick went on break I motioned her over to my table. “Hola Senior!!”, she said. I pulled out a clear plastic baggie of blow and dropped it on the table. Her eyes grew wide and slobber starting falling from her mouth. Blow is like catnip for strippers. Thus, she fell under my spell immediately.

The next thing I know, this brown girl was on my lap, dry humping me like a feral bitch dog in heat. I had to bang her. I NEEDED to see my wang penetrating her. Just then, someone taps my shoulder hard. I look up to see Lou standing over me. He bent down and said, “Did you forget about my office, asshole?!?!?!” I replied, “Damn, Lou!! You read my mind!!!” I arose, with the little Mexican bolted onto my mid-section, and hastily retreated to Lou’s office. I figured Lou would prefer me to stain this chick in private rather than out in the open.

The door to the office opened easily. The lights were on inside. In a lustful haze, I set the little Mexican chick on her back across Lou’s desk and started pumping the shit out of her, completely unaware of the others in the room with us. In a moment I heard someone call my name. I twist my neck around to see Sergio sitting on Lou’s jizz crusted couch. I think to myself, “Oh shit! I forgot about that shit!”

I figured I would just move forward with the deal as it was proposed to me. “Hey Serge! What ya got for me, dude?”, I asked. He replied, “I have a very special deal for you. I need, uh … yeah, ……Hey, Rod, you want to stop for a moment so we can talk?” I picked up the little tamale and laid her down onto Sergio’s lap as I continued to plow her. She stayed on my cock the whole time. I told Sergio, “No, man. I’m good! Lay it on me!” Slowly, Sergio lowered his face into his palm.

Then it happened. The voice cam from behind me, in the dark corner of Lou’s office. It was velvety yet hard as steel. “Rod. Went need to talk”, it said. Even though I did not stop pumping the little brown chick, a chill went down my spine when I heard those words. It was the thick timbre of the voice, I think, that alerted me.

I turned to look across the room. There, sitting in a red leather captains chair against the wall was the source of the sultry voice: Anna Conda.

I picked up the little taco yet again and turned her around so I could face Anna as I continued pumping her. At this point the Mexican girl was merely a masturbation toy I was using. I increased my pump so I could dump my load and get this over with. Then BAMM!!!, it was over. I removed the lass from my huge rod, after which her body crumpled to the floor. I did not know if she was dead or injured, or what had happened to her. But I did not care either, so I did not dwell on it.

I tried to compose myself the best I could, then walked over to stand before Anna so I could get to the bottom of all this business. “Well, well, well. Anna Conda. We meet again. Tell me, what brings you here, to my little neck of the woods?”

Anna replied, “Rod, put your dick away.” I looked down and, indeed, I had forgotten to stow my cock. Out of pure curtesy, I packed it away. Then I returned my attention to Anna. “Alright, Anna, what’s going on here?”

Anna launched into a startling tale about what brought her to me. As she spoke I became lost in her wanton beauty. She got up from her chair and walked about the room as she relayed her story, presumably to make it more dramatic and demonstrative. I got a full-on view of her body, and it was fantastic!!

She stands 5’10’’ and weighs 105 lbs. She is lithe. She was showing it off too, wearing a black, silk dress that landed just about her ankles. The top was low-cut, betraying just a bit of cleavage from her C-cup wineglass titties. She was not wearing a bra. Anna never wears a bra. Her nips were perfectly outlined through the silk. In fact, I think her nips were hard. It was probably something she did on purpose in an attempt to influence me. It was working.

Anna’s ass was perfect. It was not at all fat, but round enough not to be skinny. It was a fit figure skater’s ass. As she walked, I could see a tiny bit of jiggle emanating from her ass flesh, and then reverberated in the silky black dress she wore. My cock began growing hard again.

Her face was beautiful. Think Scarlett Johanson and Phoebe Cates rolled into one. But any sweetness this may evoke is quickly dispelled by Anna’s throaty voice with its thick Russian accent. I have known Anna for 20 years. Yet, she still does not look a day over 25. Jesus Christ!!! If ever there was a chick to die for ….. If I was one to delve into the belief of the paranormal, then I may conclude that Anna made a deal with the devil. But, I am not such a person.
And literally, Anna Conda is a chick to die for. She is deadly as fuck. She will kill you in a split second without a thought just because she does not like the shirt you are wearing. She can do it too. She is always armed and she knows how to use her weapons. Moreover, she is a total psychopath. This makes her doubly dangerous.

Anna and I have always gotten along for the most part. Like Anna, the dollar is my primary motivating factor. Such a mindset allows for understanding and predictability among people, which are elements that are sorely missing in many business dealings today that go on in the color of darkness.

Suddenly, Anna snapped me out of my thoughts. “Here’s your gun, Rod. Now let’s get started”, said Anna. She and Sergio were halfway through the door exiting Lou’s office when I said, “Hey, wait a damned minute!!! What are you talking about?!?”

They both stopped, and Anna walked back in and looked me in the eyes, saying “The plan, Rod. Let’s get on with the plan.” A little embarrassed, I sheepishly asked, “What plan?” Anna folded her arms and looked cross at me. After a moment to allow me to simmer in my shame, she asked, “You were not paying attention, were you, Rod?” I shook my head and looked down.

I heard a hammer cock. I jerked my head back up to find myself staring down the barrel of a pistol pointed at my head that Anna was holding. I protested, “Look, it is not my fucking fault!! Put that fucking gun down!!!” I continued, “You were distracting me with …. Well.. you know, how you are dressed, and that hot, sultry voice…. You know?”

“So, instead of paying attention to the plan, you chose to eye-rape me. Is that what I am to understand your position is, Rod?”, she asked. Knowing that my life was on the line, I said, “Anna, look, you know I am horny to a fault. Then you come in here, swinging them tits around, wearing that silk dress showing off the crack of your ass…. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT TO HAPPENED?”

Anna lowered her gun. She knew that my explanation of being a total cocksman was truth. “Let’s go”, Anna curtly said. I obeyed.

Anna explained the plan to me again on the drive from The Plump Rump. She made me wear a blindfold so that I would not get horny during her explanation. Here is how it went:

Anna Conda was now working for the Russians. It seems that Putin caught wind of the Sasquatch project that the Chinese were working on. He also knew that the American government have been fucking with sasquatch for decades. Thus, he was very concerned about the existence of a bigfoot gap. He ordered the acquisition of a Sasquatch specimen immediately.

Moreover, said specimen must be prime. It needed to be the biggest, baddest sasquatch of them all – a true alpha – so as to speed things along. Putin did not want some weird shit-creature, is-it-a-sasquatch-or-is-it-a-dogman, kind of monstrosity. He wanted purebred, badass sasquatchery, and preferably from the American Pacific northwest.

Anna got in on it because she sold the intel to Putin about China’s Sasquatch operation. She then told Putin she could produce sasquatch corpses for him. She told him she had a contact (i.e., me). Thus, with Putin’s blessing and promises of riches to come, Anna set out to America to find me.

Now, here is where things got a bit squirrely. See, I agreed to procure some more dead sasquatch. I have no problem with killing sasquatch because, in my opinion, they are an abomination on this Earth. I kind of feel like I am doing God’s work by wiping out as many of them as I can. And given all the not-so-Godly stuff I have done, I feel like killing Sasquatch kind of offsets that to some degree.

But Anna, she was stuck on Putin’s instruction that she must supply him with apex Sasquatch. So she did not want to take my advice of heading to the Pacific Northwest or Alaska. Instead, Anna claimed to have pinpointed the whereabouts of a particularly gruesome sasquatch beast that she KNEW would win her a fortune from Putin if she brought it to him.

“So, where is this beast?”, I asked. Anna replied “Martha’s Vineyard”. I paused. Then I asked her to repeat herself. It turns out that I was not mistaken about what Anna had said. I continued, “Uh, Anna, there are no sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard, just a lot of wealth New Englander schmucks.”

Anna looked at me and told me I was wrong. Then she decided to attempt to taunt me. “Oh, Rod, mighty slayer of Bigfoot! Yet, you fail to take notice of where the biggest, most foul and rotten beast of them all makes its home. Jesus, Rod!! What kind of bigfoot hunter are you, anyway?” Anna then spit at my feet and wondered aloud whether she even needs me for this job.

I decided that I needed to straighten out the hierarchy here in order for this here deal to move forward. I said, “Well, Anna, feel free to truck on over to Old Whitey Beach and battle that beast. But, if there is a big old mangy sasquatch lurking around over there, then it is probably a fucking Nazi-Squatch. You know, those fuckers out there hate the Jews.”

The work “Nazi” visibly shook Anna. Her great grandfather died defending Leningrad. Her entire family there died of either starvation or cannibalism during Hitler’s siege during Operation Barbarossa. Anna despised Nazis. But she feared them too. After landing that punch, I decided to push my luck.

“Now, I am still willing to help you catch this here Nazi-Squatch, but you have to do something for me”, I said. Now Anna’s eyes were on me, and they were narrowing. I continued, “I want you to get bare assed naked and pleasure yourself while I stand over you and jack it.” Anna stared at me silently for a long moment. Then she replied.

“After the job is done, and you can get none of your … fluids… on me”, she said. I shook my head and countered, “Now, and I will ‘try’ to not get my spunk on you.”

However, Anna then turned the tables on me. In fact, she picked up the table and bashed my head in with it. She looked me in my eyes, then matter-of-factly said, “You get the beast, and your prize shall be a night with me, anything goes, darling.” Well, since this caused all of the blood to immediately drain from my brain, I had a lapse in judgment. “DEAL!!”, I said. Then we shook on it.

“OK, tell me more about this supposed monster sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard”, I said. I still was not ready to believe there was a monster out there. “I show you photo”, said Anna. She took out her phone, scrolled to find the photo, then handed the phone to me. “There. Sasquatch”, she said.

I stared at the photo and remained silent. After a long moment, I turned the phone so that Anna could see the photo and asked, “Uh, Anna, is THIS what you intended to show me?” She replied. “Yes! There…Sasquatch! The biggest, grossest monster around.”

Now, I could not argue with Anna that the image on her phone is a big, gross monster. Hell, it could actually be a sasquatch, and THE UBER sasquatch. It is most certainly the grossest thing on Martha’s Vinyard. But I somehow do not think this is what Putin is expecting.

I turned to Anna and said, “Anna, this is a photo of Michelle Obama. I know it looks vile, and has a huge, hulking body with large appendages where a woman should not have them. But, sweatheart, that ain’t no sasquatch. That’s a big, hairy Chicago street negro.”

Anna did not believe me at first. She was hard in her conviction that Obama was a sasquatch. “I have seen the Sasquatch beast you deliver to me for China. This … Michelle Obama …. It is big, and hairy, and ugly like the sasquatch beast, but worse.”

When the truth finally set it, I could see that it had kind of broken down poor Anna, if only just a bit. I put my arm around Anna and told her, “Look, Michelle O fooled you. Hell, she and her Hamas Hubby fooled millions of Americans, twice! At least you saw Michelle for what she is, to wit: a big, gross sasquatch, and NOT some kind a retarded leftist messiah.”

After that, things took a rather dark turn. “What if we still take her to Putin? We can make deal; sell her to Putin!!” At this point I held up my hands and said, “I’m out”, then turned and walked away. Anna followed, trying to get me to stay. At this point, I could tell that Anna was coming undone a little.

See, she had to produce for Putin. There is no telling what kind of secret deal she actually had with him. She had to deliver a big old mangy Obama …. Er, uh, I mean … Sasquatch, to Putin.

“Ok, Rod, we do your plan. We go out west to kill bigfoot. Huge, monster bigfoot. she said. I turned and looked Anna in her eyes and said the following: First, we bang for 48 hours straight, right now, so I can get my fill of you. Second, you pay me $10,000.00 cash upfront. Third, upon delivery of the dead bigfoot, you pay me $1 million immediately.”

Anna agreed to everything, but noted that at the present time it was her “time of the month”. I grimaced, as I will absolutely not go there (and she knows that). “Fine, next week we bang”, I said. She pointed out that I would be in the woods next week hunting sasquatch. “Fine, once I come out of the woods, then we bang – 48 hours straight”, I said. “Of course, darling!”, she agreed.

Well, it took several days to set up the hunt, but it finally happened. I was in Washington state at high elevation based on intel I has acquired that indicated that there was a monstrous 15’ tall sasquatch on the mountain range that had been murdering and eating hunters and hikers. After 3 months in these mountains without a trace of the creature I began to lose hope, thinking that I probably got some bad intel, or bad coordinates.

I got my satellite phone out to call for an extraction. Winter was setting in fast, and if I did not get off this mountain soon, then I would freeze and/or starve to death. Unfortunately, my contact did not answer. I tried for 2 days. No answer. I had been fucked. I wondered what had happened back in civilization that caused me to be abandoned like this. I resolved that I would get off that mountain and get to the bottom of this shit. There would be hell to pay for this betrayal!!’

I was able to get in touch with contacts from back home. I got old Billy Ray from Ellijay and Rattler on the phone and got them to come out here to Washington State to extract me. Rattler use to fly helicopters in the Army. He has an old Huey sitting in his front yard, to the chagrin of his HOA. He fired that sucker up, and him and old Billy Ray flew out here to my coordinates and extracted me.

After landing at a convenience store to buy some beer for the flight home, we headed east. Through the skies a way, Billy Ray said, “Well, Rod, I guess you is bout ready to git back home to Georgia, eh?” In fact, I was ready to go home. But I had to take care of some business first. I told them both to take me to New York City. They were both perplexed. All I said to them was “I have an old friend there I have to see before I can go home.”

I have intel on where Anna Conda stays when she is in the United States. She stays at certain hotels depending on what month she is here, and whether her check-in date is an odd or even number. This is for undercover work. I came across the code for her stays while doing the sasquatch work for China. She an I were caught in a snowstorm one night in Buffalo, NY, and had to share a room at the Holiday Inn near the airport. We had like 10 big Igloo ice chests with iced down sasquatch body parts with us in the room.

Anna was like, “No hanky panky, Rod. I am tired and I want to go to bed. Tomorrow we finish business.”

Frankly, I did not blame her for withholding her magnificent muff from me. I was tired as hell. But, I could not settle for nothing. So, when Anna was in the bathroom taking a shower, I started going through her suit case. I wanted to find some of her panties to jack off into. Instead, I found a little black notebook. Inside it contained her lodging codes, and some other interesting things. I photographed the contents with my phone and then put it back.

When Anna got out of the shower she was already dressed in her night clothes. She saw me lying on my back, nude on the bed, and jacking it. “Rod!! GROSS!!!! Go to the restroom to do that shit!!!”, she commanded. I just did it to get a rise out of her. LOL!!

So, if Anna is still inside the U.S., then using the codes I stole from her I can locate precisely where she will be that night. I studied it for a few moments then had my answer. Tonight she would be staying at the Dogman Inn on Hwy 95 South, Room 355. I told Rattler to get me there stat!

We had to stop several times for fuel and beer. Those Hueys go just a bit over a hundred MPH, you know. But eventually, we got there. I gave the boys some money and told them to go to the Waffle House for some coffee to sober up. Then they would fly me home.

I should mention that I also had Rattler’s fully auto Russian AK-74 with spare mags. During the long flight with 2 drunks from Washington State to New York City, I had worked myself up into a towering rage over how Anna fucked me on this Putin deal. She had clearly thrown me aside. But for what, exactly? I figured I would storm the hotel room, get some answers, then shower the room with gun fire.

I busted through the door of Room 355 at exactly 3:35 a.m. There she was. My entry roused her from slumber. I was pointing my rifle at her, center mass. She was shocked at the appearance of a gunman in her room at this time of night. However, she was not as shocked as one would think (this was not the first time something like this has happened to her).

I raised my face from the receiver just enough so she could see it was me. “Rod!!!”, she exclaimed. “What happened to you?!?!? I thought you had died up in those mountains when we never hear from you!” I replied, “Shove it up that cute little ass of yours, Anna. You fucked me. And not in the good way. What the fuck was all that shit about needing a sasquatch for Putin?!?”

Anna played dumb. But it struck me that I had been deliberately put out of the loop for 3 months. Why? Who wanted me away for that long, and why? What went on in my absence?!? I was just dying to know!!! I set my rifle down and pulled out my fixed blade knife, ready to get down to some real nasty work on Anna so I could get some truth. The pure evil of what I was about to do to her caused a wide death grin to grow on my face. Anna saw it. She knew what it meant. She swallowed hard and her eyes betrayed the shear terror she felt inside. I was engorged with blood lust. She knew she had fucked up one time too many this time!!

Suddenly came the sound of the toilet in the bathroom flushing. I was momentarily shocked. I did not expect anyone else to be there with Anna. Anna saw it in my face. I glanced at her and saw that the terror in her face was replaced with pleasure, a slight smile creeping over her face.

I was going to have to face off against this person in the bathroom, who would be out in a split moment. When I do that, I will have to turn 180 degrees from Anna, thereby making me vulnerable to her. I had only once choice: Shoot Anna first.

Just as this came to me, but just before I could act on it, the bathroom door opened. I had to deal with that person before Anna now. I spun around to see that it was a completely nude, and fat, white man. He was a real oafish blob. He looked surprised to see me. He also looked sort of familiar.

I next heard the crack of something hitting my skull hard. I remember the immediate hateful pain that shot through my body and the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I remember the dizziness, then falling to the floor. Clearly, as I fixed on the man from the bathroom, Anna had cracked me over the head with a blunt object.

I came to the next morning, Billy Ray and Rattler had manage to track me down based upon coordinates I left in the chopper that said “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY”. Billy Ray filled up the hotel room ice bucket with cold water and doused my head with it to bring me conscious. I was disoriented at first. But after a bit, what happened in this room the night before came back to me.

Honestly, I am surprised that Anna did not just kill me. I presume that she thinks she can leverage her drop-dead hotness to get me to do more shit for her in the future. She is absolutely right about that too. Rattler then said, “Hey, Rod, that snake bitch left a letter fer ya.”

He handed me the letter. This is what it said:
____________________________________________

“Dear Rod:

Sorry about the boo boo on your head. Hope it heals soon. Also sorry about leaving you in the mountains. I was not running a scam on you Rod. Rather, an opportunity arose for me to acquire a sasquatch body from another person. You may know him since you are a sasquatch hunter. His name is Matt Moneymaker. Anyway, until next time…..

Yours truly,
Anna Conda”
_____________________________________________
I could not fucking believe it. That was fatfuck Moneymaker in the hotel room earlier. Anna fucked Matt Fatfuck Moneymaker for a Sasquatch! That fat son of bitch!!

Billy Ray asked, “You ready to go Rod?” I stood up and said, “Yeah, let’s go.” Then Rattler said, “Hey, ya wanna stop and git some beer fer the ride home?” I replied “Hell yeah.”

I felt like I wanted to die. Thank God for beer and buddies. I don’t blame Anna. She is a fucking snake, and I knew that before this started. Also, I cannot really blame fatfuck Moneymaker for wanting to get some of that hot poon pie Anna serves up. I guess I have to blame fate for fucking me over this time. I even started thinking that next time I will just avoid Anna. But I know I won’t, thus making me subject to this sort of shit again. I had Rattler set us down in Charlottesville so I could buy some hard liquor.
submitted by Lord_Long_Rod to Sasquatch_Jihad [link] [comments]


2024.05.13 22:23 Worried-Quiet-3976 Post attempt

I hate that I use this account to post these sad rants but this is my new way of trying to explain myself. I’ve let months go by simply by accepting I’ll die soon.
I had my first serious attempt yesterday (none have come this close). Mother’s Day. Who does that ? My whole immediate family including young kids (my first baby cousins) came over. Usually at these parties I’m one of the best dressed, on making drinks, somehow am also the entertainer and the one to get the kids to sit/eat. Can’t even imagine my family getting to the house and finding me lifeless. Yet I still tried to die. Due to my appearance and having avoided my family for the last few months.. everyone asked me if I was “okay”. I was pretty good with avoiding these pursuits of answers by helping in the kitchen and playing with the kids. No sane adult is going to force you, an adult, to start explaining where/what you’ve been when a kid is playing with you or your hands are occupied. I pathetically took advantage of this. I’ve always been relatively close to my family but I’ve burned ties twice now. First time around this time last year and second time we are currently in. What got me out of that first time ? I’m not really sure. I think I just knew I had to try one more time before really giving up. There were some cornered moments and while my loved ones were just doing what family does (checking in) I just kept replaying my attempt that occurred precisely two hours before anyone got there. I wore a dress with a collar. This collar was important because my neck was extremely bruised and looked scratched. My attempt if not apparent by now was by partial hanging. I put makeup on it and left my hair down to cover. It wasn’t enough but this goes to show how good I was with avoiding eye contact and being investigated. My sister isn’t easily fooled. We were setting up some food before people arrived and she asked me what happened to my neck. I didn’t even take the time to come up with a story just in case. Was it a cry for help? I wasn’t going to let it be. I somehow blamed it on my necklace scratching me when I took it off. To this second I don’t know how she believed me or the conversation shifted. Must have been a combination of my tone/mannerism and her just going with the flow because I was actually present. I haven’t been with anyone in so long. My isolation has ruined everything. Anyways I put more concealer and kept a smile for my family. My dad walked into the gathering with flowers for everyone. After greeting everyone he approached me with my own orchid and a trinket for me. I am not a mother but he made it a point to include me and to remind me he thinks of me. The trinket can be described as a decoration for a table. An all in all thoughtful gift. It has in cursive “live the life you love, love the life you live” with a clip I’m guessing to add a picture. I immediately grabbed it, turned it around so I wasn’t reading it anymore, somehow changed the conversation and he being my father (I believe knows me more than I think), took the hint to walk away. I’m grateful he did because I was about to have a mental breakdown. I somehow held my tears back and forced my attention back to my baby cousin which wasn’t hard she was drawing and wanted me to see. After a bit of this she wanted to go by the front of the house to play and her mom was there alone. This is down a hall away from where we were. I felt time move slow as we made eye contact and my mouth go dry as the space between us was closing. I knew what was coming. Everyone else was congregated in the kitchen and family room. A simple what’s up how have you been was about to send me over the edge. I didn’t even notice I was holding my dads gift in my right hand. She grabbed my left hand and instinctively said “wow I’ve never seen your skin this pale it’s like porcelain”. She didn’t mean it in a bad way just stating a fact. I looked at her and as my eyes started tearing up she let go. She asked me if I was sad and I said I can’t talk now because I’ll lose it. Thing is once I start I can’t stop. I told her I needed to go to the bathroom. She called her daughter said we need to talk I said okay and went to my bathroom upstairs. As I stared at myself in the mirror now completely alone I realized just how different I have to look to everyone. I looked at my dads gift and really started crying. After a few sobs I somehow managed to stop crying and fix my makeup a bit. I went back down to the party mostly to try to prove I’m okay and avoid being a topic. I know this was the bare minimum thing to do. I know this isn’t who I should be. This weekend coming is a bigger party. Point is I barely survived yesterday. I’m one of the youngest in my family not including the baby cousins. That being said everyone is older and has way more stressors than me. They either have kids, their careers, more bills, and whatever else. These people manage to go to every party, maintain conversation, and overall be apart of the family. I 23 unemployed overweight believe I can’t get it together. I can’t be apart of anything. I went through college and from the moment that last semester ended didn’t know what the fuck to do next. Before my attempt yesterday morning I spent an hour on a suicide hotline. I never admitted to the woman on the phone how close I was to the edge. This is what I wrote down after the call “I told her almost everything. The isolation, how I let myself go, and how I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I couldn’t actually say what my plan was. The lady was really nice. We agreed I should face everyone and get professionally evaluated. I didn’t really mean it. I’m going to die before I face anyone and I couldn’t tell her I can’t tell anyone. She was a really nice lady. I wonder if she’s a mom. It’s Mother’s Day. Mommy I can’t do it. You were always there for me. Always answered me. I can’t answer you anymore. I wish I could’ve talked to you. I wish I would’ve just talked. For what it’s worth I do love you. “. My mother called me around 9AM Mother’s Day morning. Said she needs help getting gifts ready and I told her I felt bad. She said how everyone is worried and I have no reason to be this far gone/sad. I somehow got the conversation to end. She ended saying I was going to be okay that we’re going to get me a therapist just have to get through mothers day and next weeks party. I said I love you and immediately tied the belt around my neck. I was seeing black, choking, ears ringing, and arms shuffling. Something came over me and I got myself out of it. I didn’t even cry. I went to my bathroom showered, got dressed, and you know the rest. Now I’m here 4 o’clock the next day writing. I have spent the whole day in bed. I think subconsciously I’ve let myself go into this isolation to weaken my body. For it to be easier for me to die and severed connections for it to be easier for those around me. I don’t know what I want from writing this down. I know my throat feels sore and I think I want to know why this is happening. I want to somehow try to put a reasoning behind everything. Somehow find a way to maybe really talk to one of the people that care without breaking down and shooting blanks with my mouth. I’ve tried even though it looks to those around me I haven’t. Thanks for reading.. comments are sincerely appreciated.
submitted by Worried-Quiet-3976 to SuicideWatch [link] [comments]


2024.05.13 21:19 doesitmatter_no The Endo Survival Guide

Several people have approached me that they might have endometriosis. Lifelong warrior so thought I would share my tips and tricks I put together for my friends and family to share with you :) Hope this helps someone!
ENDOMETRIOSIS SURGERY FACTS
ENDOMETRIOSIS LAPAROSCOPIC SURGERY (WHAT TO EXPECT)
PRE-SURGERY
POST-OP PREP
SPACE PREP
  1. Make sure your bed or couch is prepped. I stayed on the first level for the first 2ish days before feeling well enough to stay upstairs.
  2. I used a pregnancy pillow on the bed to help me stay on my back while sleeping and help you feel cozy.
  3. Stock the house with foods that will be light for your stomach. Think soups and casseroles! Saltine crackers, broths, rices etc..
  4. If you have a raised bed, get a step stool to assist. It’s best to sit on the side of the bed and slowly lay your upper body down while bringing your knees up and over to your back. You will need to use arm strength the first couple of days to get you up and over since you can’t use the abdomen.
  5. Water and Beverages stocked at all times. I have a reusable water bottle and avoid carbonated beverages for the time being. They fill you with gas for the procedure so it may make those symptoms worse.
  6. Netflix, Kindle, Puzzles, Craft Projects…visits with friends. Whatever makes the time pass, set it up ahead of time so it’s handy.
  7. Items to Keep on Hand: Baby Wipes, heating pads, pads/diapers, candles, essential oils, things that smell good haha
BOWEL PREP
This is dependent on the type of surgery you are having, but its good to have Gatorade, Magnesium Citrate (liquid), laxatives and enemas on hand just in case you need these.
ON SURGERY DAY
It’s important to follow the instructions on what to stop taking and/or eating/drinking prior to the surgery. Wear comfy clothes (wide elastic waistband) and slides with cozy socks. Double check your to go bag and breath.
AT THE HOSPITAL
  1. Do your check-ins and keep your people with you as long as you want.
  2. Make sure to read all the consent forms and ask any questions upfront. Make any advance directives clear.
  3. Just try to remain calm as there’s a lot of down time while they do intake. It is about 2 hours of prep before they bring you in for the surgery itself.
  4. They will ask you the same questions over and over again, that’s normal and trust me, you want to confirm it’s all being done properly.
  5. If you need something for anxiety, they will be sure to give you something if you ask :)
  6. You will be wearing a gown, socks, funky underwear and a cool hair net haha wear the gown backward so you keep warm and keep the butt covered.
  7. Vitals will happen and the anesthesiologist will come and speak with you to make sure they prep the right meds beforehand. Bring up any concerns here with them!
  8. You may be wheeled or walked into surgery. I’ve only ever walked in and laid on the table myself.
  9. They will then put the IV in your arm and sometimes will put on a mask, they will then ask you to count backwards and before you know it, you will be awake again!
RECOVERY
ENDOMETRIOSIS MAINTENANCE
Here’s the tips and tricks I found helpful for maintaining my pain and symptoms (GI and back pain related):
  1. Pelvic Floor Therapy: This is important for keeping the muscles in your pelvis healthy and strong to maintain your structure and also help manage pain. Consult with your doctor on whether this is right for you.
  2. Physical Therapy: I do PT for my back and pelvic floor since it’s all related. We focus on Myofascial Release Therapy to help break up the adhesions and give me more mobility. This helps with temporary pain relief (reduction in number), but that is always welcome :)
  3. Acupuncture: I swear by Acupuncture. I don’t know what it does or why, but it works. It’s not a cure by any means, but it's great for relaxation, fertility, digestion, endometriosis, sleep, etc.. I can go on, but it’s not covered by insurance plans all the time so you will need to check and see what you’re able to take on.
  4. Diet/Exercise:
    1. Eating high protein, lower fat/carbs (not none just low) helps your body, but overall learn your trigger foods! This will go a long way.
    2. Ginger, turmeric and fennel all help with bloating. I like to drink them in tea form when I’m feeling particularly hard stomached as it’s a good natural way to decrease the bloat. Peppermint also works for some, for me it irritates my GERD.
    3. Chamomile for relaxation
    4. Walking and movement are important. I cannot do anything high impact due to my sacroiliitis diagnosis, so I stick with light yoga and walking.
  5. Alcohol/Other Substances: Don’t do it. Don’t touch it. You’ll thank me later on this point.
  6. Sleep: Insomnia is a very real thing. I think I went 2 or 3 days at its worst one time and I cannot say enough how important trying to keep the same sleep schedule will benefit you. Waking and sleeping around the same time each day will still feel exhausting but at least you know your body is getting the most sleep it can get.
  7. Medications/Supplements:
    1. Ibprofuern: This does NOT work for me. I have GERD and ulcers so I cannot take NSAIDs, but with that in mind, NSAIDs are supposedly the best pain medication over the counter to help you manage it.
    2. Pain Killers: These are AS NEEDED. I try to refrain and leave these for the TRULY bad days which I try to spread out. Not even worth it sometimes, because I don’t like how I feel and sometimes vomit after taking them. But they do help the pain!
    3. IUD/Orilissa: An IUD will NOT do anything. If you are diagnosed, ask your doctor about Orilissa or similar medicines instead of birth control methods. This will not stop the growth, just suppress it. There are side effects and it is only a short term solution.
    4. Linzess: This worked well for me for constipation symptoms when they got severe. Definitely recommend bringing this to your doctor if you’re truly suffering and they have not yet mentioned. I also resorted after trying magnesium citrate
    5. CBD Lotions/Salves: For my pelvis, I use Healing Rose CBD Salve in Orange and Lavender (https://www.thehealingroseco.com/product/orange-lavender-with-chamomile-herbal-salve-300mg-cbd/). For my back, I use a medical grade CBD lotion with menthol (https://cbdclinic.co/clinical-strength-series/). I also use a CBD massage oil from Healing Rose of the same scent when doing myofascial release at home. I also use Somedays Cramp Cream (https://somedays.com/products/period-cramp-cream?variant=42062153842853).
  8. Heating Pads and Ice Pack: I have several varieties of heating pads. A cordless travel heating pad (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FPTJL4G?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details), a plug-in heating pad (lhttps://www.hsn.com/products/pure-enrichment-purerelief-xxl-heating-pad-with-9-cord/22188460) and stick on patches (https://www.thermacare.com/ - I use the back patches but reverse them to the front for better coverage). For hot flashes and night sweats (also if you need to relax while anxious) place an ice pack over your chest to help cool or calm down.
  9. Self-Care: No joke, massages, facials, epsom salt baths, sound baths, reiki….anything that you find relaxing. Do it. Try it! They also make CBD bath bombs Ive been wanting to check out.
  10. TENs Machine: I really want one, don’t have one, but people swear by them (the heating pad linked to MyObi has a TENs version - https://myobistore.com/en-us/collections/my-obi-belts/products/apollo-2-0).
  11. Pregnancy Pillow: This one sounds so lame, but I bought a pregnancy pillow for my first endometriosis surgery since I’m a side sleeper to help keep me on my back during recovery. It changed by life! It helps my anxiety and makes me comfortable while sleeping. (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YYVRXLM/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_search_asin_title?ie=UTF8&psc=1)..
  12. Heated Blankets/Cozy Blankets: Make yourself feel better with a cozy blanket. Do it, I dare you!
  13. Endo To-Go Bag: Includes heating pads (travel, plug-in and patches), medications, balms/salves, essential oils and pads/protection items, change of clothes, wet wipes.
  14. Sex Life: I’m single, I don’t have a partner to worry about communicating this issue with at this point, but go slow and communicate given eventually this will have to be a conversation. What I have learned is that if you do have sex and feel pain. Immediately stop! If you associate sex with pain mentally in that moment, it may cause fear in doing so down the line so it’s best to stop the moment you feel any pain occur.
  15. Work Life: I work a demanding job so it was not working with the appointments and care I needed to manage pain. Always get FMLA from your doctor for intermittent leave based on your company's policies. This protects you from flare-ups and appointments. Short Term Disability is based on your situation with work so talk with them about any leave of absence for surgery and recovery and ensure the medical providers fill out the paperwork appropriately.
  16. Friends/Family: This one is the worst. I have to cancel and make plans all the time based on how I feel. I like to line up a bunch of plans for three months out and do my best to make them happen at the beginning of the month when I know I’m most likely to feel good. I just say I’ll make things up to them when I get better and those who have stuck around have been truly amazing friends, but don’t be upset that some might be over the day in and out of what you’re going through. It’s hard for you and sometimes others and it’s just a part of the relationships we’re meant to experience in life. Most people (unless they have endometriosis) don’t understand it so it can feel isolating, but there’s others out there who know what you’re going through and are willing to chat. Just gotta find them and reach out on social media, online etc..
  17. Journaling Symptoms: Guilty of not being the best at this always, but it's good to track your symptoms to see how they work and operate. It helps not only you plan for it, but also your doctors in how best to handle your care. Take photos of things that make sense to show your doctors! Discharge, bowels etc..can sometimes help diagnose or judge with the images.
  18. Next to Bed Kit: Make sure your nightstand is stocked with the essentials for your bad days. Makes it easier to access the items you need when you just can’t get up and get it.
  19. Squatty Potty: Another thing that is majorly life changing on constipation days! Get one or you can make your own :) Take a stack of books and stack them at equal heights on each side and put your feet up. The trick is making sure you’re in a squat with your knees high to your ears.
  20. Clothing: Dressing for this is key but you still want to look cute! Joggers with a stretchy waist are my go to pants, but wide leg trousers with a stretchy waist help with ease of removal but also comfort and brings some style to the look.
  21. Pads: I wear Always Discreet vs. pads. I find when you need to wear them full time for incontinence it just makes it more comfortable. They have different cuts and styles so definitely check them out!
submitted by doesitmatter_no to endometriosis [link] [comments]


2024.05.13 21:18 doesitmatter_no The Endo Survival Guide

Several people have approached me that they might have endometriosis. Lifelong warrior so thought I would share my tips and tricks I put together for my friends and family to share with you :) Hope this helps someone!
ENDOMETRIOSIS SURGERY FACTS
ENDOMETRIOSIS LAPAROSCOPIC SURGERY (WHAT TO EXPECT)
PRE-SURGERY
POST-OP PREP
SPACE PREP
  1. Make sure your bed or couch is prepped. I stayed on the first level for the first 2ish days before feeling well enough to stay upstairs.
  2. I used a pregnancy pillow on the bed to help me stay on my back while sleeping and help you feel cozy.
  3. Stock the house with foods that will be light for your stomach. Think soups and casseroles! Saltine crackers, broths, rices etc..
  4. If you have a raised bed, get a step stool to assist. It’s best to sit on the side of the bed and slowly lay your upper body down while bringing your knees up and over to your back. You will need to use arm strength the first couple of days to get you up and over since you can’t use the abdomen.
  5. Water and Beverages stocked at all times. I have a reusable water bottle and avoid carbonated beverages for the time being. They fill you with gas for the procedure so it may make those symptoms worse.
  6. Netflix, Kindle, Puzzles, Craft Projects…visits with friends. Whatever makes the time pass, set it up ahead of time so it’s handy.
  7. Items to Keep on Hand: Baby Wipes, heating pads, pads/diapers, candles, essential oils, things that smell good haha
BOWEL PREP
This is dependent on the type of surgery you are having, but its good to have Gatorade, Magnesium Citrate (liquid), laxatives and enemas on hand just in case you need these.
ON SURGERY DAY
It’s important to follow the instructions on what to stop taking and/or eating/drinking prior to the surgery. Wear comfy clothes (wide elastic waistband) and slides with cozy socks. Double check your to go bag and breath.
AT THE HOSPITAL
  1. Do your check-ins and keep your people with you as long as you want.
  2. Make sure to read all the consent forms and ask any questions upfront. Make any advance directives clear.
  3. Just try to remain calm as there’s a lot of down time while they do intake. It is about 2 hours of prep before they bring you in for the surgery itself.
  4. They will ask you the same questions over and over again, that’s normal and trust me, you want to confirm it’s all being done properly.
  5. If you need something for anxiety, they will be sure to give you something if you ask :)
  6. You will be wearing a gown, socks, funky underwear and a cool hair net haha wear the gown backward so you keep warm and keep the butt covered.
  7. Vitals will happen and the anesthesiologist will come and speak with you to make sure they prep the right meds beforehand. Bring up any concerns here with them!
  8. You may be wheeled or walked into surgery. I’ve only ever walked in and laid on the table myself.
  9. They will then put the IV in your arm and sometimes will put on a mask, they will then ask you to count backwards and before you know it, you will be awake again!
RECOVERY
ENDOMETRIOSIS MAINTENANCE
Here’s the tips and tricks I found helpful for maintaining my pain and symptoms (GI and back pain related):
  1. Pelvic Floor Therapy: This is important for keeping the muscles in your pelvis healthy and strong to maintain your structure and also help manage pain. Consult with your doctor on whether this is right for you.
  2. Physical Therapy: I do PT for my back and pelvic floor since it’s all related. We focus on Myofascial Release Therapy to help break up the adhesions and give me more mobility. This helps with temporary pain relief (reduction in number), but that is always welcome :)
  3. Acupuncture: I swear by Acupuncture. I don’t know what it does or why, but it works. It’s not a cure by any means, but it's great for relaxation, fertility, digestion, endometriosis, sleep, etc.. I can go on, but it’s not covered by insurance plans all the time so you will need to check and see what you’re able to take on.
  4. Diet/Exercise:
    1. Eating high protein, lower fat/carbs (not none just low) helps your body, but overall learn your trigger foods! This will go a long way.
    2. Ginger, turmeric and fennel all help with bloating. I like to drink them in tea form when I’m feeling particularly hard stomached as it’s a good natural way to decrease the bloat. Peppermint also works for some, for me it irritates my GERD.
    3. Chamomile for relaxation
    4. Walking and movement are important. I cannot do anything high impact due to my sacroiliitis diagnosis, so I stick with light yoga and walking.
  5. Alcohol/Other Substances: Don’t do it. Don’t touch it. You’ll thank me later on this point.
  6. Sleep: Insomnia is a very real thing. I think I went 2 or 3 days at its worst one time and I cannot say enough how important trying to keep the same sleep schedule will benefit you. Waking and sleeping around the same time each day will still feel exhausting but at least you know your body is getting the most sleep it can get.
  7. Medications/Supplements:
    1. Ibprofuern: This does NOT work for me. I have GERD and ulcers so I cannot take NSAIDs, but with that in mind, NSAIDs are supposedly the best pain medication over the counter to help you manage it.
    2. Pain Killers: These are AS NEEDED. I try to refrain and leave these for the TRULY bad days which I try to spread out. Not even worth it sometimes, because I don’t like how I feel and sometimes vomit after taking them. But they do help the pain!
    3. IUD/Orilissa: An IUD will NOT do anything. If you are diagnosed, ask your doctor about Orilissa or similar medicines instead of birth control methods. This will not stop the growth, just suppress it. There are side effects and it is only a short term solution.
    4. Linzess: This worked well for me for constipation symptoms when they got severe. Definitely recommend bringing this to your doctor if you’re truly suffering and they have not yet mentioned. I also resorted after trying magnesium citrate
    5. CBD Lotions/Salves: For my pelvis, I use Healing Rose CBD Salve in Orange and Lavender (https://www.thehealingroseco.com/product/orange-lavender-with-chamomile-herbal-salve-300mg-cbd/). For my back, I use a medical grade CBD lotion with menthol (https://cbdclinic.co/clinical-strength-series/). I also use a CBD massage oil from Healing Rose of the same scent when doing myofascial release at home. I also use Somedays Cramp Cream (https://somedays.com/products/period-cramp-cream?variant=42062153842853).
  8. Heating Pads and Ice Pack: I have several varieties of heating pads. A cordless travel heating pad (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FPTJL4G?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details), a plug-in heating pad (lhttps://www.hsn.com/products/pure-enrichment-purerelief-xxl-heating-pad-with-9-cord/22188460) and stick on patches (https://www.thermacare.com/ - I use the back patches but reverse them to the front for better coverage). For hot flashes and night sweats (also if you need to relax while anxious) place an ice pack over your chest to help cool or calm down.
  9. Self-Care: No joke, massages, facials, epsom salt baths, sound baths, reiki….anything that you find relaxing. Do it. Try it! They also make CBD bath bombs Ive been wanting to check out.
  10. TENs Machine: I really want one, don’t have one, but people swear by them (the heating pad linked to MyObi has a TENs version - https://myobistore.com/en-us/collections/my-obi-belts/products/apollo-2-0).
  11. Pregnancy Pillow: This one sounds so lame, but I bought a pregnancy pillow for my first endometriosis surgery since I’m a side sleeper to help keep me on my back during recovery. It changed by life! It helps my anxiety and makes me comfortable while sleeping. (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YYVRXLM/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_search_asin_title?ie=UTF8&psc=1)..
  12. Heated Blankets/Cozy Blankets: Make yourself feel better with a cozy blanket. Do it, I dare you!
  13. Endo To-Go Bag: Includes heating pads (travel, plug-in and patches), medications, balms/salves, essential oils and pads/protection items, change of clothes, wet wipes.
  14. Sex Life: I’m single, I don’t have a partner to worry about communicating this issue with at this point, but go slow and communicate given eventually this will have to be a conversation. What I have learned is that if you do have sex and feel pain. Immediately stop! If you associate sex with pain mentally in that moment, it may cause fear in doing so down the line so it’s best to stop the moment you feel any pain occur.
  15. Work Life: I work a demanding job so it was not working with the appointments and care I needed to manage pain. Always get FMLA from your doctor for intermittent leave based on your company's policies. This protects you from flare-ups and appointments. Short Term Disability is based on your situation with work so talk with them about any leave of absence for surgery and recovery and ensure the medical providers fill out the paperwork appropriately.
  16. Friends/Family: This one is the worst. I have to cancel and make plans all the time based on how I feel. I like to line up a bunch of plans for three months out and do my best to make them happen at the beginning of the month when I know I’m most likely to feel good. I just say I’ll make things up to them when I get better and those who have stuck around have been truly amazing friends, but don’t be upset that some might be over the day in and out of what you’re going through. It’s hard for you and sometimes others and it’s just a part of the relationships we’re meant to experience in life. Most people (unless they have endometriosis) don’t understand it so it can feel isolating, but there’s others out there who know what you’re going through and are willing to chat. Just gotta find them and reach out on social media, online etc..
  17. Journaling Symptoms: Guilty of not being the best at this always, but it's good to track your symptoms to see how they work and operate. It helps not only you plan for it, but also your doctors in how best to handle your care. Take photos of things that make sense to show your doctors! Discharge, bowels etc..can sometimes help diagnose or judge with the images.
  18. Next to Bed Kit: Make sure your nightstand is stocked with the essentials for your bad days. Makes it easier to access the items you need when you just can’t get up and get it.
  19. Squatty Potty: Another thing that is majorly life changing on constipation days! Get one or you can make your own :) Take a stack of books and stack them at equal heights on each side and put your feet up. The trick is making sure you’re in a squat with your knees high to your ears.
  20. Clothing: Dressing for this is key but you still want to look cute! Joggers with a stretchy waist are my go to pants, but wide leg trousers with a stretchy waist help with ease of removal but also comfort and brings some style to the look.
  21. Pads: I wear Always Discreet vs. pads. I find when you need to wear them full time for incontinence it just makes it more comfortable. They have different cuts and styles so definitely check them out!
submitted by doesitmatter_no to Endo [link] [comments]


2024.05.13 21:09 hippysol3 Im 62. And I think Im done with highway riding and big bikes. Have you quit?

Have mostly ridden my little dirt bike for the last few years after riding a Honda V65 Magna from 1985 - 2005. Thought I might get back into a big highway bike but I took this [BMW R1150RS](https://i.imgur.com/z5bvQ6A.jpeg} for an hour long test ride this morning and came back thinking, 'Nope I think Im done now'
Its a GREAT bike (especially for only $2k) but man, my butt was already getting sore after an hour, my back was just beginning to feel sore and my face felt wind burnt and my ears were ringing from the wind noise (granted I was wearing a very crappy old helmet). But it brought back the memories of how hard on the body a highway ride can be, even on a great cruising bike and how exhausted Id be after a full day on the road.
I dont think Im gonna give up biking, but honestly I think a Honda Grom is more of what I need. Short runs, very flickable, easy to ride, nearly zero effort... and not even fast enough to get into trouble with the cops OR my wife.
Have you quit highway cruising? Or are you planning on taking it into your 70s and 80s?
submitted by hippysol3 to motorcycle [link] [comments]


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