Two guys one hammer original
Because choices matter.
2013.01.03 05:39 Because choices matter.
Risky Clicks the Subreddit
2018.06.11 06:50 TwoSetViolin For all things TwoSet Violin.
Unofficial subreddit for TwoSet Violin, for all you TwoSetters out there who aspire to one day be the world's next Ling Ling. Show us your best dank memes & videos of you shredding. The TSV team do not moderate this subreddit.
2018.01.28 18:55 GMorelli Zero Two and Strelizia
Found you, my darling. This is a subreddit dedicated to Zero Two one of the main characters of the anime Darling in the FranXX
2024.05.22 04:31 EclosionK2 The Horrify Film Festival Yxperience
The HRRFY.
It’s the horror movie festival where something genuinely fucked happens every year. And I mean every year.
Like, there are some screenings that unleash hordes of bats while the movie is playing. You're free to leave whenever you want, but the movie will still play for 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Other screenings hire actors to turn at you and scream at some point in the movie. You have no idea when, or how many times.
It's a festival where the word "illegal" can't even begin to describe what happens. You'd only attend if you were a young, stupid edgelord like me who was trying to prove he was hardcore to his friends.
Trust me. DO NOT GO.
You have nothing to prove to anyone. Don't be stupid.
Wait for the lamer film versions to come out streaming. That's what everyone else does. They're neutered edits but they're fine.
All they lack is the real gleaming thing everyone wants to see at HRRFY, but who cares. At least you don’t get traumatized. At least you’re not risking your life.
Anyway, if you really want to know what attending HRRFY is like. I’ll be quick and summarize the one screening I went to. It was the 20th anniversary, and I was lucky enough to get in.
***
I had signed up for the HRRFY mailing list, and joined the subreddit. Through a series of cryptic online emails I solved a sequence of riddles and was entered in the lottery for a HRRFY entry.
Lady Luck took a shine to me, because one day in my mailbox, I received a physical ticket. I had done it.
I was going.
The actual ‘ticket’ was a black USB key that announced the location of the festival the night before (which I won’t disclose here) and it did force me to pay for a very expensive flight in order for me to make it on time.
You see, to prevent getting shut down, the location of HRRFY changes every year. Some years the local police have managed to stop it, but for the most part, authorities have given up. What’s the point of arresting or charging anyone, if all the organizers and attendees actually want to be there?
Upon arrival, I had to pick between three participating theaters.
Based on title alone, I decided to go see “Many Drownings” (directed by Oleksander Gołański.) It was in the theater that was furthest away from the downtown core, which meant it was likely the one where the craziest shit was bound to happen.
That’s what I came here for right?
I lined up a solid two hours before the screening like everyone else. The entire line was jittering, just vibrating with excited twenty-somethings. Rumors flew left and right.
“I heard they’re going to force everyone to take acid.”
“I heard an actor’s gonna run in and shotgun the ceiling.”
“I heard they’re going to disappear like four more people this year. At this screening!”
Each year people disappeared. And each year the same people were ‘found.’ And yes this is the worst part, and why should never, ever, ever go to this event.
Again I will repeat myself. DO NOT GO.
No one has ever truly gone 'missing' at HRRFY in any legal or physical sense, because every missing person always shows up a day later, convinced that they are fine—refusing to elaborate further.
There are some small support groups for people who have family members who had gone to HRRFY, and came back irrevocably changed after being ‘found.’
These few unlucky people lose all semblance of personality. They don’t want interviews, or help, or therapy, or contact of any kind. And they never, ever want to talk about what they saw.
Some HRRFY fans think that these ‘found’ people were body-snatched. Cloned in a lab or replaced by a cyborg, or something stupid like that.
But I think there’s a far simpler explanation. The ‘found’ are still the same people. They're just terrified. They got shaken by something that shattered the foundation of their mind, body and soul. They got too scared.
They got HRRFY’d.
***
I should mention I had a cough the day I went. And I was worried my sickly appearance might give me trouble at the airport.
So I invested in an intense double N95 mask which I wore for the whole flight, and continued to wear even at the screening of “Many Drownings.”
It made my face hot and uncomfortable, but it still didn’t stop me from yelling “excuse me, excuse me!” as I ran to snag a seat in the back of the theater.
I always preferred sitting in the far back. You get a good view of the whole screen, and a good view of the whole audience.
Beside me sat a big dude named Sylvester, who apparently flew all the way from Australia to attend HRRFY.
“Worth the full Seventeen hours mate! It’s gonna be epic!” he dropped a massive camping backpack beside me, which I assume contained all of his luggage.
The lights dimmed, and the production company logos started to play.
The whispering, giggling and suspense all stacked upon each other to create an electric feeling in the air. I was giddy. It's like the entire audience was embarking on a massive roller coaster.
The anticipation was the best part for sure. It might have been the only good part.
Then the movie started.
It was a wide shot of a gray, stormy sea. The waves were massive, and the thunderclouds were looming. There was no land visible in any direction.
All we could hear was the sound of waves foaming, swirling, and crashing over and over. Lightning crackled. Rain poured. The camera held perfectly still over this storm as if it was mounted on a perfectly hovering drone. A drone so resilient that it didn’t waver at all.
I thought it had to be CGI.
The shot held like this for the next few moments. Everyone sat glued to their seats. Everyone was thinking the same thing.
What’s going to happen? How are they going to scare us?
People chuckled. People cheered. People wanted to tease whatever was going to happen—to happen already.
But nothing did.
Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes went by without any change. People started snoring.
I looked beside me and saw that Sylvester—the most excited audience member of them all—had fallen totally asleep. The jet lag must’ve gotten to him.
Then I peered beyond the rest of the audience members and saw other people snoozing too. Heads were keeled over, some people were curled in their seats, some had even spilled out into the aisle and were dozing on the floor.
I looked above the bright screen, at the huge vents in the corner of the theater. I saw a faint white gas emerging from the vents.
Holy shit. What have we been breathing? I tightened the straps on my N95 mask, and made my breathing shallower.
The gas must have been pumping since the opening credits—because how else would an audience of two hundred people all fall asleep?
As I moved my hand through the air in front of me, I could sense the thickness. It was definitely hazier than usual. I took the scarf off my neck and wrapped it around my mouth as well.
Then I spotted movement in front of the screen.
It was a tall blonde man, wearing a black trenchcoat and military-grade gas mask. Beside him arrived six hazmat suits who started pointing at various audience members.
I slunk in my chair, pretending to sleep like everyone else.
Two hazmats walked over to the front row and picked out a sleeping guy in flannel. They lifted flannel up, under the armpits and by his ankles, carrying him between them both like a hammock.
The hazmats walked back up to the stage, where the blonde leader inspected the flannel man and tapped his head. Something was approved?
The hazmats began to swing flannel back and forth, as if they were getting ready to toss him. Despite their masks, I could hear a very muffled, very distant countdown.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One…”
The flannel audience member was tossed into the screen.
I literally watched him fly into the image of stormy waves … andfallinto them. The flannel man sank into the gray water like a rock, leaving a few bubbles and foam. A wave came crashing down. All trace of him was gone.
What the fuck.
All six hazmats began grabbing more audience members with much more urgency. It became a minute-long process where they would pick the sleeping person up, bring them beside the screen, and then swing-toss them into it.
How was this possible?
I turned slightly to see if there was a projector above me, and realized there was none. Which meant maybe there was no screen on stage.
Which meant … maybe it was a portal?
I tried to wake Sylvester by shaking him. I pinched his leg and arm a bunch.
He was out cold.
The hazmats started grabbing audience members from the middle rows now. They were emptying the whole theater. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I waited until they grabbed another batch, only a few rows down from me. When all hazmats had their backs turned—I broke into a run.
With my left arm, I tightly gripped my mask and scarf against my face, while my right arm vaulted me over seat after seat.
I had never breathed so hard—through so much fabric—in my life.
The hazmats all turned to me. “Hey! Hey!” But their hands were full with their next victims.
I ran all the way down the aisle, to the big exit sign on the left. My heartbeat filled my head. My plan was to dropkick through the exit door.
I imagined myself breaking through like some flying gazelle.
I jumped.
I angled my kick.
It might as well have been a brick wall. I fell ass-first to the ground, followed by my head. Of course the door was locked.
Through a muffled mask I heard a sneering scoff.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Above me stood the one wearing a trenchcoat. I could see his piercing gray eyes through his gas mask.
I rolled aside and tried to run by him. He lifted a foot and tripped me without effort.
My forehead bashed into an empty seat. It dazed me.
The blonde leader bent down and grabbed me by the neck, tearing away my scarf and mask.
“No! No!”
A sweet, ether-like smell filled my nostrils. I did my best to hold my breath, but I could already feel myself getting light-headed.
The other hazmats joined in, grabbing me from all sides. Even if I had the strength to struggle, there was no escape now.
Above me, all I could see was the dark theater ceiling, and some of the light behind me from the cinema screen.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“No. Please. Don’t do thi—”
SPLASH.
I was plunged deep into cold, wet chaos. My head was completely underwater.
Gagging. Bubbles. Spinning.
I fought for dear life, dog-paddling like a maniac.
Churning. Freezing. Panic.
For a second, my head popped above the water. I inhaled all the air my lungs could muster. I stared across a vast, violent ocean.
An enormous thirty foot wave came in my direction.
My whole body lifted higher and higher as the wave approached. I did my best to tread water. It seemed to be working.
Then a series of smaller waves arrived and smacked my chest.
SPLASH.
Spinning. Kicking. Flipping.
My view alternated between the pitch dark ocean beneath me, and the moonlit night sky above.
Again I swam to the surface, popped my head out. Ravenously sucked in air.
There was a small lull in the water.
Around me I now registered the other theater goers. Most of them were lying face-down or sinking … but a few were flapping about like me, fighting for their life.
And above all of us, a floating white shape.
It was painfully bright, I had to lift one hand to look at it.
My jaw dropped.
It was the movie screen, hanging completely still in the air. It showed a dark, empty theater. The exact same theater we all occupied moments ago.
It was tremendously high, above all of our heads. There was no way of reaching it.
Then I saw another thirty foot wave come our way. It grazed the bottom of the screen.
I knew what had to be done.
***
One of the theater goers happened to be on a college swim team. She was the first one able to traverse one of the giant waves and climb into the screen.
Once she was up there, she found a firehose in the theater and reeled it out to us like a rope.
One by one, we swam as hard as we could, praying to God we could reach the rope. Everyone’s energy was sapped. Your body can only sustain itself on adrenaline and fear for so long.
By some miracle, five of us got out.
I was the last.
I climbed the rope coughing and vomiting. I had swallowed so much water that my stomach felt swollen.
When I reached the top and they pulled me into the screen, I sobbed. I couldn’t stop crying.
My life had flashed countless times before my eyes. In bubbling, suffocating visions, I saw both my parents and my brother. I saw my highschool graduation. I saw my favorite Christmas from when I was six years old.
I had almost lost all of that. I had lost almost everything.
On the dirty, carpeted theater floor, I lay with my face down, savoring the fact that I now lay on a hard surface. God bless ground. God bless this filthy, popcorn-strewn ground.
Beside me I heard bantering, hugging, the wringing of wet clothes. Sylvester was the second last to be saved, and he was particularly vocal.
“Wooooooaaaaahh!” He came and drummed me on the back, lifted me up. “Oh my god dude! Holy shit!”
I sat on my knees, wiping the tears and snot off my mouth.
Sylvester clapped his hands, held his face and screamed some more.
“Holy shit dude! That was so fucking scary! Like literally people were dying beside us. Like I SAW people die!”
I nodded, shivering in my drenched clothes. “ I know it was—”
“—That was craaaaazy!”
He laughed and stood up, patting everyone on the back. He kept clapping his hands like this was some sports event.
“That was sick! That was siiiiiiiiick!”
He ruffled someone’s hair then ran up to me with an open palm.
“High five dude! WE MADE IT! High five!
“Don’t leave me hangin’ dude!”
submitted by EclosionK2 to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]
It’s the horror movie festival where something genuinely fucked happens every year. And I mean every year.
Like, there are some screenings that unleash hordes of bats while the movie is playing. You're free to leave whenever you want, but the movie will still play for 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Other screenings hire actors to turn at you and scream at some point in the movie. You have no idea when, or how many times.
It's a festival where the word "illegal" can't even begin to describe what happens. You'd only attend if you were a young, stupid edgelord like me who was trying to prove he was hardcore to his friends.
Trust me. DO NOT GO.
You have nothing to prove to anyone. Don't be stupid.
Wait for the lamer film versions to come out streaming. That's what everyone else does. They're neutered edits but they're fine.
All they lack is the real gleaming thing everyone wants to see at HRRFY, but who cares. At least you don’t get traumatized. At least you’re not risking your life.
Anyway, if you really want to know what attending HRRFY is like. I’ll be quick and summarize the one screening I went to. It was the 20th anniversary, and I was lucky enough to get in.
***
I had signed up for the HRRFY mailing list, and joined the subreddit. Through a series of cryptic online emails I solved a sequence of riddles and was entered in the lottery for a HRRFY entry.
Lady Luck took a shine to me, because one day in my mailbox, I received a physical ticket. I had done it.
I was going.
The actual ‘ticket’ was a black USB key that announced the location of the festival the night before (which I won’t disclose here) and it did force me to pay for a very expensive flight in order for me to make it on time.
You see, to prevent getting shut down, the location of HRRFY changes every year. Some years the local police have managed to stop it, but for the most part, authorities have given up. What’s the point of arresting or charging anyone, if all the organizers and attendees actually want to be there?
Upon arrival, I had to pick between three participating theaters.
Based on title alone, I decided to go see “Many Drownings” (directed by Oleksander Gołański.) It was in the theater that was furthest away from the downtown core, which meant it was likely the one where the craziest shit was bound to happen.
That’s what I came here for right?
I lined up a solid two hours before the screening like everyone else. The entire line was jittering, just vibrating with excited twenty-somethings. Rumors flew left and right.
“I heard they’re going to force everyone to take acid.”
“I heard an actor’s gonna run in and shotgun the ceiling.”
“I heard they’re going to disappear like four more people this year. At this screening!”
Each year people disappeared. And each year the same people were ‘found.’ And yes this is the worst part, and why should never, ever, ever go to this event.
Again I will repeat myself. DO NOT GO.
No one has ever truly gone 'missing' at HRRFY in any legal or physical sense, because every missing person always shows up a day later, convinced that they are fine—refusing to elaborate further.
There are some small support groups for people who have family members who had gone to HRRFY, and came back irrevocably changed after being ‘found.’
These few unlucky people lose all semblance of personality. They don’t want interviews, or help, or therapy, or contact of any kind. And they never, ever want to talk about what they saw.
Some HRRFY fans think that these ‘found’ people were body-snatched. Cloned in a lab or replaced by a cyborg, or something stupid like that.
But I think there’s a far simpler explanation. The ‘found’ are still the same people. They're just terrified. They got shaken by something that shattered the foundation of their mind, body and soul. They got too scared.
They got HRRFY’d.
***
I should mention I had a cough the day I went. And I was worried my sickly appearance might give me trouble at the airport.
So I invested in an intense double N95 mask which I wore for the whole flight, and continued to wear even at the screening of “Many Drownings.”
It made my face hot and uncomfortable, but it still didn’t stop me from yelling “excuse me, excuse me!” as I ran to snag a seat in the back of the theater.
I always preferred sitting in the far back. You get a good view of the whole screen, and a good view of the whole audience.
Beside me sat a big dude named Sylvester, who apparently flew all the way from Australia to attend HRRFY.
“Worth the full Seventeen hours mate! It’s gonna be epic!” he dropped a massive camping backpack beside me, which I assume contained all of his luggage.
The lights dimmed, and the production company logos started to play.
The whispering, giggling and suspense all stacked upon each other to create an electric feeling in the air. I was giddy. It's like the entire audience was embarking on a massive roller coaster.
The anticipation was the best part for sure. It might have been the only good part.
Then the movie started.
It was a wide shot of a gray, stormy sea. The waves were massive, and the thunderclouds were looming. There was no land visible in any direction.
All we could hear was the sound of waves foaming, swirling, and crashing over and over. Lightning crackled. Rain poured. The camera held perfectly still over this storm as if it was mounted on a perfectly hovering drone. A drone so resilient that it didn’t waver at all.
I thought it had to be CGI.
The shot held like this for the next few moments. Everyone sat glued to their seats. Everyone was thinking the same thing.
What’s going to happen? How are they going to scare us?
People chuckled. People cheered. People wanted to tease whatever was going to happen—to happen already.
But nothing did.
Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes went by without any change. People started snoring.
I looked beside me and saw that Sylvester—the most excited audience member of them all—had fallen totally asleep. The jet lag must’ve gotten to him.
Then I peered beyond the rest of the audience members and saw other people snoozing too. Heads were keeled over, some people were curled in their seats, some had even spilled out into the aisle and were dozing on the floor.
I looked above the bright screen, at the huge vents in the corner of the theater. I saw a faint white gas emerging from the vents.
Holy shit. What have we been breathing? I tightened the straps on my N95 mask, and made my breathing shallower.
The gas must have been pumping since the opening credits—because how else would an audience of two hundred people all fall asleep?
As I moved my hand through the air in front of me, I could sense the thickness. It was definitely hazier than usual. I took the scarf off my neck and wrapped it around my mouth as well.
Then I spotted movement in front of the screen.
It was a tall blonde man, wearing a black trenchcoat and military-grade gas mask. Beside him arrived six hazmat suits who started pointing at various audience members.
I slunk in my chair, pretending to sleep like everyone else.
Two hazmats walked over to the front row and picked out a sleeping guy in flannel. They lifted flannel up, under the armpits and by his ankles, carrying him between them both like a hammock.
The hazmats walked back up to the stage, where the blonde leader inspected the flannel man and tapped his head. Something was approved?
The hazmats began to swing flannel back and forth, as if they were getting ready to toss him. Despite their masks, I could hear a very muffled, very distant countdown.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One…”
The flannel audience member was tossed into the screen.
I literally watched him fly into the image of stormy waves … andfallinto them. The flannel man sank into the gray water like a rock, leaving a few bubbles and foam. A wave came crashing down. All trace of him was gone.
What the fuck.
All six hazmats began grabbing more audience members with much more urgency. It became a minute-long process where they would pick the sleeping person up, bring them beside the screen, and then swing-toss them into it.
How was this possible?
I turned slightly to see if there was a projector above me, and realized there was none. Which meant maybe there was no screen on stage.
Which meant … maybe it was a portal?
I tried to wake Sylvester by shaking him. I pinched his leg and arm a bunch.
He was out cold.
The hazmats started grabbing audience members from the middle rows now. They were emptying the whole theater. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I waited until they grabbed another batch, only a few rows down from me. When all hazmats had their backs turned—I broke into a run.
With my left arm, I tightly gripped my mask and scarf against my face, while my right arm vaulted me over seat after seat.
I had never breathed so hard—through so much fabric—in my life.
The hazmats all turned to me. “Hey! Hey!” But their hands were full with their next victims.
I ran all the way down the aisle, to the big exit sign on the left. My heartbeat filled my head. My plan was to dropkick through the exit door.
I imagined myself breaking through like some flying gazelle.
I jumped.
I angled my kick.
It might as well have been a brick wall. I fell ass-first to the ground, followed by my head. Of course the door was locked.
Through a muffled mask I heard a sneering scoff.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Above me stood the one wearing a trenchcoat. I could see his piercing gray eyes through his gas mask.
I rolled aside and tried to run by him. He lifted a foot and tripped me without effort.
My forehead bashed into an empty seat. It dazed me.
The blonde leader bent down and grabbed me by the neck, tearing away my scarf and mask.
“No! No!”
A sweet, ether-like smell filled my nostrils. I did my best to hold my breath, but I could already feel myself getting light-headed.
The other hazmats joined in, grabbing me from all sides. Even if I had the strength to struggle, there was no escape now.
Above me, all I could see was the dark theater ceiling, and some of the light behind me from the cinema screen.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“No. Please. Don’t do thi—”
SPLASH.
I was plunged deep into cold, wet chaos. My head was completely underwater.
Gagging. Bubbles. Spinning.
I fought for dear life, dog-paddling like a maniac.
Churning. Freezing. Panic.
For a second, my head popped above the water. I inhaled all the air my lungs could muster. I stared across a vast, violent ocean.
An enormous thirty foot wave came in my direction.
My whole body lifted higher and higher as the wave approached. I did my best to tread water. It seemed to be working.
Then a series of smaller waves arrived and smacked my chest.
SPLASH.
Spinning. Kicking. Flipping.
My view alternated between the pitch dark ocean beneath me, and the moonlit night sky above.
Again I swam to the surface, popped my head out. Ravenously sucked in air.
There was a small lull in the water.
Around me I now registered the other theater goers. Most of them were lying face-down or sinking … but a few were flapping about like me, fighting for their life.
And above all of us, a floating white shape.
It was painfully bright, I had to lift one hand to look at it.
My jaw dropped.
It was the movie screen, hanging completely still in the air. It showed a dark, empty theater. The exact same theater we all occupied moments ago.
It was tremendously high, above all of our heads. There was no way of reaching it.
Then I saw another thirty foot wave come our way. It grazed the bottom of the screen.
I knew what had to be done.
***
One of the theater goers happened to be on a college swim team. She was the first one able to traverse one of the giant waves and climb into the screen.
Once she was up there, she found a firehose in the theater and reeled it out to us like a rope.
One by one, we swam as hard as we could, praying to God we could reach the rope. Everyone’s energy was sapped. Your body can only sustain itself on adrenaline and fear for so long.
By some miracle, five of us got out.
I was the last.
I climbed the rope coughing and vomiting. I had swallowed so much water that my stomach felt swollen.
When I reached the top and they pulled me into the screen, I sobbed. I couldn’t stop crying.
My life had flashed countless times before my eyes. In bubbling, suffocating visions, I saw both my parents and my brother. I saw my highschool graduation. I saw my favorite Christmas from when I was six years old.
I had almost lost all of that. I had lost almost everything.
On the dirty, carpeted theater floor, I lay with my face down, savoring the fact that I now lay on a hard surface. God bless ground. God bless this filthy, popcorn-strewn ground.
Beside me I heard bantering, hugging, the wringing of wet clothes. Sylvester was the second last to be saved, and he was particularly vocal.
“Wooooooaaaaahh!” He came and drummed me on the back, lifted me up. “Oh my god dude! Holy shit!”
I sat on my knees, wiping the tears and snot off my mouth.
Sylvester clapped his hands, held his face and screamed some more.
“Holy shit dude! That was so fucking scary! Like literally people were dying beside us. Like I SAW people die!”
I nodded, shivering in my drenched clothes. “ I know it was—”
“—That was craaaaazy!”
He laughed and stood up, patting everyone on the back. He kept clapping his hands like this was some sports event.
“That was sick! That was siiiiiiiiick!”
He ruffled someone’s hair then ran up to me with an open palm.
“High five dude! WE MADE IT! High five!
“Don’t leave me hangin’ dude!”
2024.05.22 04:31 SquirrelFox_3 IFS not working past second condition
I am trying to summarize student responses to a survey. They choose their top four choices for a course.
My IFS formula is: =ifs(F2=1,"ANTH",G2=1,"MUSI",H2=1,"ART",I2=1,"SOCI",J2=1,"TOTORO",K2=1,"CRIS",L2=1,"HIST",M2=1,"ENGL",N2=1,"ECON",O2=1,"BIO",P2=1,"CHIN",Q2=1,"GEOL")
And as you can see from Column B in the screenshot, the formula works if a true result is found within the first two conditions (ANTH or MUSI), but returns "N/A" (error: not match) if there is not a true result within the first two conditions.
Any help is much appreciated, I have been banging my head against the wall on this one!
https://preview.redd.it/5i01v7ke3w1d1.png?width=1988&format=png&auto=webp&s=af87fd735f6fe10873eb3f458457599116fd8adb
submitted by SquirrelFox_3 to googlesheets [link] [comments]
My IFS formula is: =ifs(F2=1,"ANTH",G2=1,"MUSI",H2=1,"ART",I2=1,"SOCI",J2=1,"TOTORO",K2=1,"CRIS",L2=1,"HIST",M2=1,"ENGL",N2=1,"ECON",O2=1,"BIO",P2=1,"CHIN",Q2=1,"GEOL")
And as you can see from Column B in the screenshot, the formula works if a true result is found within the first two conditions (ANTH or MUSI), but returns "N/A" (error: not match) if there is not a true result within the first two conditions.
Any help is much appreciated, I have been banging my head against the wall on this one!
https://preview.redd.it/5i01v7ke3w1d1.png?width=1988&format=png&auto=webp&s=af87fd735f6fe10873eb3f458457599116fd8adb
2024.05.22 04:31 RefinedVillainy42 I just finished the first Kyoshi novel for the first time! WOW!
I got to see the original show as a kid and in 2021 when recovering from a surgery, they put the show on Netflix and it was my first time, with an adult brain, I got to watch it through its entirety. I had a profound reaction, as I imagine many have had at various times of life, and since have been reengaged with the universe! (Only ever watched Korra after this first rewatch and a few times since, never caught her show when it aired!)
I haven’t read a book cover to cover in, more years than I’d like to maybe admit, but just- wow. Honestly a great read, I was basically watching the content unfold in my head.
I had to drop this somewhere as I am DYING TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH SOMEONE~ so for anyone reading, SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT FOREWORD⚠️
First of all and I suppose the obvious The level of violence witnessed was a step above from the shows and which, ofc the ‘kids show’ couldn’t have anything graphic, but I wasn’t prepared for the clever paths to death. Loved it though! From the ice spike through the chest, to the torturous ways of the Yellow Necks and Jianzhu, to the brutal death of Xu Ping An.
THE DEATHS OF KELSANG AND LEK WERE THE BIGGEST MF HITS. Ugh gosh reading Lek’s drop to the ground was heartbreaking. It all happens so fast, his burial is immediate. Right on the ‘you’ll fit out’ from Rangi.
SPEAKING OF- realizing it was her top knot after rereading the sentence that it was attached to the note was also DEVASTATING
YUN AT THE END LIKE A DEVIOUS BASTARD
What’s great is I preemptively bought the second novel so I’m jumping right in to the next 😆
Excited for this one and also getting to know Yangchen after!
Also I love the relationship with Rangi and Kyoshi, genuinely think they balance each other well (besides being each others weakness lol)
submitted by RefinedVillainy42 to TheLastAirbender [link] [comments]
I haven’t read a book cover to cover in, more years than I’d like to maybe admit, but just- wow. Honestly a great read, I was basically watching the content unfold in my head.
I had to drop this somewhere as I am DYING TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH SOMEONE~ so for anyone reading, SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT FOREWORD⚠️
First of all and I suppose the obvious The level of violence witnessed was a step above from the shows and which, ofc the ‘kids show’ couldn’t have anything graphic, but I wasn’t prepared for the clever paths to death. Loved it though! From the ice spike through the chest, to the torturous ways of the Yellow Necks and Jianzhu, to the brutal death of Xu Ping An.
THE DEATHS OF KELSANG AND LEK WERE THE BIGGEST MF HITS. Ugh gosh reading Lek’s drop to the ground was heartbreaking. It all happens so fast, his burial is immediate. Right on the ‘you’ll fit out’ from Rangi.
SPEAKING OF- realizing it was her top knot after rereading the sentence that it was attached to the note was also DEVASTATING
YUN AT THE END LIKE A DEVIOUS BASTARD
What’s great is I preemptively bought the second novel so I’m jumping right in to the next 😆
Excited for this one and also getting to know Yangchen after!
Also I love the relationship with Rangi and Kyoshi, genuinely think they balance each other well (besides being each others weakness lol)
2024.05.22 04:30 BotomsDntDeservRight Which one should i pull or use SSR selector for?
As an husbando lover, these two only ones who interests me but i cant decide which one should i pick. I already have built Hades, Oneroi, Hera team. So i am thinking to replace oneroi or build a husbando team by using SSR selector on marduk and use custom pull on Anubis.
View Poll
submitted by BotomsDntDeservRight to AetherGazer [link] [comments]
View Poll
2024.05.22 04:30 wskei Admission w/ low GPA
Hi guys!
So for some background i’m 26 and have had a horrible college experience. First gen, didn’t know what I wanted to do, sprinkled with a little misguided laziness and a pandemic.
I current have a 2.3 GPA and I have finally found my career of choice. I’m looking to get into Loma Linda University’s radiation therapy program that has a gpa requirement of 3.0.
Once I complete the prerequisite classes I feel my gpa will hover around 2.7.
If my science GPA is over a 3.5 will I have a solid chance of getting in? Anybody have experience getting into these programs below the GPA requirement?
I have reached out to multiple staff members to show interest but I feel that at the end of the day I may need to just lock in and get the grades I need. It will take me far too long to raise my GPA to a 3.0 or above so I feel like this is my one shot.
Please help :(
submitted by wskei to RadiationTherapy [link] [comments]
So for some background i’m 26 and have had a horrible college experience. First gen, didn’t know what I wanted to do, sprinkled with a little misguided laziness and a pandemic.
I current have a 2.3 GPA and I have finally found my career of choice. I’m looking to get into Loma Linda University’s radiation therapy program that has a gpa requirement of 3.0.
Once I complete the prerequisite classes I feel my gpa will hover around 2.7.
If my science GPA is over a 3.5 will I have a solid chance of getting in? Anybody have experience getting into these programs below the GPA requirement?
I have reached out to multiple staff members to show interest but I feel that at the end of the day I may need to just lock in and get the grades I need. It will take me far too long to raise my GPA to a 3.0 or above so I feel like this is my one shot.
Please help :(
2024.05.22 04:30 LunaLgd Wayfinder, holocrons, and crystals
Hi! So I know from other posts that series two crystals will play new voices in the new holocrons and the old voices in the old holocrons. I delayed buying holocrons and crystals for years because they are a little expensive. Jumping on the bandwagon now and am confused at what I actually need to buy to fully unlock everything. I bought a version one Jedi holocron yesterday; they were out of the old Sith ones. If I just buy the new Sith holocron will that be sufficient for playing all voices? Or do I need a complete set of old and new? And whats up with the Wayfinder? Looks cool but is that actually needed too to access all features?
And does the rfid writer trick still work witb series 2? I don’t want to spend money on a writer if it won’t work.
submitted by LunaLgd to GalaxysEdge [link] [comments]
And does the rfid writer trick still work witb series 2? I don’t want to spend money on a writer if it won’t work.
2024.05.22 04:30 Anglicanpolitics123 Old Testament social principles relevant for our times(part 3). Liberation and the rejection of half measures in the Exodus narrative.
I did a part one and two before on this topic focusing on the themes of "lesser of two evils" in part one as well as the theme of intersectionality in part 2. For this one I would like to look at the theme of liberation in Exodus. In particular I would like to focus on the showdown between Pharaoh and Moses, Moses's demands, as well as the supposed concessions Pharaoh is willing to give.
The Demand:
The relevance of this is that it teaches that the oppressor has no right, no business in setting the conditions of freedom and liberation for the oppressed. Nor do they have any right to set half measures that suit their own interests. It's all or nothing. Full liberation and independence or nothing at all. And we see this principle in many modern struggles for freedom and self determination. During the Algerian struggle for Independence the French were willing to grant concessions that gave "greater rights" for Algerians while Algerian still remained a part of France. And that was rejected. They wanted full independence from France. Not "greater concessions" in a French empire. During the struggle against Apartheid the regime in its last days offered concessions that recognised colored people in it's parliament. And Nelson Mandela and the resistance fighters rejected these concessions. They kept struggling for the full demand of rights for Indians, colored people, and blacks who were the most discriminated against. And they rejected concessions made on the oppressors terms. In the current liberation movement in Palestine the Palestinian people are seeking and end to occupation, siege, genocide and settler colonial practises in the West Bank. And they reject concessions made on the oppressors terms. They reject a concession that allows their oppressors to still control their airspace and access to food and electricity in Gaza. They reject concessions that gives them a "state" without an independent functioning army to defend themselves. They reject concessions that allow the illegal annexation of settlements on their territory while they get 90% of the territory they are owed under international law. As Archbishop Desmond Tutu put in in a different context, they want the "full menu of rights, not the bread crumbs from the table". Exodus teaches that an oppressed people deserves that full menu. And that the oppressor does not get to set the agenda when it comes to the liberation of a people that they are actively oppressing.
submitted by Anglicanpolitics123 to SocialChristianity [link] [comments]
The Demand:
- "The Lord God of the Hebrews sent me to you to say 'Let my people go, so that they may worship me in the wilderness'"(Exodus 7:16)
- "The Pharaoh's officials say to him 'How long shall this fellow be a snare to us? Let the people go, so that they may worship the Lord their God; do you not yet understand that Egypt is ruined?' So Moses and Aaron were brought back to Pharaoh, and he said to them 'Go worship the Lord your God! But which ones are to go?' Moses said 'We will go with our young and our old; we will go with our sons and daughters and with our flocks and herds, because we have the Lord's festival to celebrate'. He said to them 'The Lord indeed will be with you, if ever I let your little ones go with you! Plainly you have some evil purpose in mind. No, never! Your men may go and worship the Lord, for that is what you are asking'. And they were driven out from Pharaoh''s presence"(Exodus 10:7-11)
- "Then Pharaoh summoned Moses, and said 'Go worship the Lord. Only your flocks and your herds shall remain behind. Even your children may go with you'. But Moses said 'You must also let us have sacrifices and burnt offerings to sacrifice to the Lord our God"(Exodus 10:24-25)
The relevance of this is that it teaches that the oppressor has no right, no business in setting the conditions of freedom and liberation for the oppressed. Nor do they have any right to set half measures that suit their own interests. It's all or nothing. Full liberation and independence or nothing at all. And we see this principle in many modern struggles for freedom and self determination. During the Algerian struggle for Independence the French were willing to grant concessions that gave "greater rights" for Algerians while Algerian still remained a part of France. And that was rejected. They wanted full independence from France. Not "greater concessions" in a French empire. During the struggle against Apartheid the regime in its last days offered concessions that recognised colored people in it's parliament. And Nelson Mandela and the resistance fighters rejected these concessions. They kept struggling for the full demand of rights for Indians, colored people, and blacks who were the most discriminated against. And they rejected concessions made on the oppressors terms. In the current liberation movement in Palestine the Palestinian people are seeking and end to occupation, siege, genocide and settler colonial practises in the West Bank. And they reject concessions made on the oppressors terms. They reject a concession that allows their oppressors to still control their airspace and access to food and electricity in Gaza. They reject concessions that gives them a "state" without an independent functioning army to defend themselves. They reject concessions that allow the illegal annexation of settlements on their territory while they get 90% of the territory they are owed under international law. As Archbishop Desmond Tutu put in in a different context, they want the "full menu of rights, not the bread crumbs from the table". Exodus teaches that an oppressed people deserves that full menu. And that the oppressor does not get to set the agenda when it comes to the liberation of a people that they are actively oppressing.
2024.05.22 04:30 rdk67 Spring Day 63: Actualizing with Thich Nhat Hanh
The day is as hot as any other, but now that my body has come to expect it, I slip on a shirt, plus my beaded necklace, head out to the commons, sprawl in the grass, make like a solar panel and feel inspired. The heat is like a warm round of applause, and I begin reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s advice about mindfulness, happiness and impermanence, its adjacency to the lived experience of heaven on earth, which is more than enough incentive to cause an average summer reading program to really take off. Mindfulness is easily achieved on a day like today – really? challenge the clouds – the clouds are having dreams of being clouds, like each cloud has an aura, which is also made of cloud but wispier, resulting in a sky that dreams of being sky. Maybe the sky is the illustrious career of whoever painted the clouds onto it. They urge the mind to take a breather.
So I try to keep my eyes on the page, and for a few minutes that goes great, but then something tickles my neck, and a minute later, something tickles my wrist, a minute after that, something prompts me to imagine the feminine spirit of nature gently grazing my scalp with a fingertip, as though moving concepts around in my head by force of will, and my experience of time does change – I can feel it – and that present-tense notion of time seems to corroborate the story that vacant commons areas on a sunny spring afternoon aren’t really vacant at all. In point of fact, if the whole place were crowded with people, it wouldn’t much budge an expert’s estimate of the total life already there – average natural abundance is so awe-inspiring to begin with. There are half a billion blades of grass, for instance – I did the math. Who knows how many million ants.
Something tickles my shoulder – I mindfully stop what I’m doing, brush myself off, check out a tiny beetle bug with an orange spot on its back that landed in my lap. A black ant longer than my thumbnail charges down my pant leg. A plant-hopper stops on my knee, and it is a shade of green impossible to believe, a brightness that glows. It adjusts its direction ceremoniously, like it’s consulted some interior atlas of becoming, then leaps away. In the grass on a day like today, the mindfulness tends to find you, and I know the longer I sit there, the more likely I will be to never get up – to get lost in the crowd of life, which at this time of year is surging upward and outward and downward, even as its making trillions of babies to sail through the air. I watch a seed-dreaming-of-seeds levitate above the grass, climb over the treetops, vanish in the clouds.
If humanity has a brilliance unobserved, I nominate our ability to turn the life of potential into the lived existence of the actual – we do it all the time, compulsively even, a term of agreement practically, with occurrence in all its forms. With every breath and wheeze, every eye blink and heartbeat, every ideation of color, form, and sequence – we are self-conscious standard bearers of the present. Or so we would like to believe – the clouds above are panoramic to a degree that gives the stuff of the earth, just being the stuff of the earth, the starring role no matter who we get to stand in front of them, how many skylines we erect. The clouds seem nude in a way, like their striking dramatic poses for the students to sketch with sticks of charcoal. These aren’t the sort of clouds that make it rain, at least not on us. They seem intent on foreseeing the future.
Can clouds do that? If the mind is a kind of cloud, then of course they can, though what follows is soon followed by a desire to shape the future, at which point the clouds check the time, gaze off into the distance, then hurry on, all of which is plenty true of the human mind. Hey, what’s for dinner? I make red beans and rice for the umpteenth time in my life, set the pot to boil, then forget about it, which is an instance of learned incompetence in that, when I finally remember to set the timer, I always end up leaving the pot on the stove ten-minutes too long, and that causes the bottom layer of rb-and-r to caramelize, which deglazes itself when the food cools, and the resulting dish is so substantial – so actualized of its potential – that being mindful of my eating is a pleasure – the rice’n’beans, the parts like hash browns – they rise to my lips like book pages.
This compassionate attention to the value of the actual is not evenly distribute in my life – not even close – such that my living space is more like the sort of hollow that wild mammals tend to prize, the ones they were hole up in all winter long, which was only a couple of month ago, remember – the squirrels still remember that week in January when life in the outdoors passed through a sub-zero death zone. I see three yearling squirrels dancing around the most westward of the sycamores out front. I stop in my tracks, give them time to see me with their fresh social constructs – two hang on either side of the tree, looking at me directly, curiously, and the third is poised at the base of the power box. Power? Don’t do it, I project telepathically – whatever it is, just don’t do it. Your existential task is to unearth vintage nuts, not disrupt global authority.
Or proceed as you please – it’s up to you. How much trouble can the three cutest mammals on the block get into on a day like today? I make a clicking sound by pulling the tip of my tongue off the roof of my mouth, an aural expression I equate with speaking squirrel – I come in peace, I want it to mean. If I had something in my pocket to feed them, the whole interaction would be complete, but I’m empty handed then, so we end up inching toward each other for a minute, get in some good meet-and-greet get-to-know-you time. This probably happens every spring, urges me to carry baggies of popcorn on my person when I’m outside, fantasize about squirrels sitting at the picnic table with me, rubbing their fuzzy ears against my chin, buttoning my shirt for me.
We’re in it together – this is what nature told me today and what I think about later in my peace church loft, which sounds like a brand of sustainability, when someday they sell such a thing to the average consumer. Peace Church Loft – what everyone will be into one day, like an incense fragrance, an aural sensation, more or less guaranteed to produce a life sustained. Faith finds its resurgence when new congregations manifest in the environment in order to erect churches that brim with lofts. Thich Nhat Hanh advises: As soon as we understand the causes and nature of our feelings, they begin to transform themselves. Themselves – they transform themselves when we understand. The nature of the universe is to grow reality by comprehending it, a little better tomorrow than today. A ghostly finger grazes fine hairs on my neck, draws a line to my earlobe.
submitted by rdk67 to MetaphysicalWeather [link] [comments]
So I try to keep my eyes on the page, and for a few minutes that goes great, but then something tickles my neck, and a minute later, something tickles my wrist, a minute after that, something prompts me to imagine the feminine spirit of nature gently grazing my scalp with a fingertip, as though moving concepts around in my head by force of will, and my experience of time does change – I can feel it – and that present-tense notion of time seems to corroborate the story that vacant commons areas on a sunny spring afternoon aren’t really vacant at all. In point of fact, if the whole place were crowded with people, it wouldn’t much budge an expert’s estimate of the total life already there – average natural abundance is so awe-inspiring to begin with. There are half a billion blades of grass, for instance – I did the math. Who knows how many million ants.
Something tickles my shoulder – I mindfully stop what I’m doing, brush myself off, check out a tiny beetle bug with an orange spot on its back that landed in my lap. A black ant longer than my thumbnail charges down my pant leg. A plant-hopper stops on my knee, and it is a shade of green impossible to believe, a brightness that glows. It adjusts its direction ceremoniously, like it’s consulted some interior atlas of becoming, then leaps away. In the grass on a day like today, the mindfulness tends to find you, and I know the longer I sit there, the more likely I will be to never get up – to get lost in the crowd of life, which at this time of year is surging upward and outward and downward, even as its making trillions of babies to sail through the air. I watch a seed-dreaming-of-seeds levitate above the grass, climb over the treetops, vanish in the clouds.
If humanity has a brilliance unobserved, I nominate our ability to turn the life of potential into the lived existence of the actual – we do it all the time, compulsively even, a term of agreement practically, with occurrence in all its forms. With every breath and wheeze, every eye blink and heartbeat, every ideation of color, form, and sequence – we are self-conscious standard bearers of the present. Or so we would like to believe – the clouds above are panoramic to a degree that gives the stuff of the earth, just being the stuff of the earth, the starring role no matter who we get to stand in front of them, how many skylines we erect. The clouds seem nude in a way, like their striking dramatic poses for the students to sketch with sticks of charcoal. These aren’t the sort of clouds that make it rain, at least not on us. They seem intent on foreseeing the future.
Can clouds do that? If the mind is a kind of cloud, then of course they can, though what follows is soon followed by a desire to shape the future, at which point the clouds check the time, gaze off into the distance, then hurry on, all of which is plenty true of the human mind. Hey, what’s for dinner? I make red beans and rice for the umpteenth time in my life, set the pot to boil, then forget about it, which is an instance of learned incompetence in that, when I finally remember to set the timer, I always end up leaving the pot on the stove ten-minutes too long, and that causes the bottom layer of rb-and-r to caramelize, which deglazes itself when the food cools, and the resulting dish is so substantial – so actualized of its potential – that being mindful of my eating is a pleasure – the rice’n’beans, the parts like hash browns – they rise to my lips like book pages.
This compassionate attention to the value of the actual is not evenly distribute in my life – not even close – such that my living space is more like the sort of hollow that wild mammals tend to prize, the ones they were hole up in all winter long, which was only a couple of month ago, remember – the squirrels still remember that week in January when life in the outdoors passed through a sub-zero death zone. I see three yearling squirrels dancing around the most westward of the sycamores out front. I stop in my tracks, give them time to see me with their fresh social constructs – two hang on either side of the tree, looking at me directly, curiously, and the third is poised at the base of the power box. Power? Don’t do it, I project telepathically – whatever it is, just don’t do it. Your existential task is to unearth vintage nuts, not disrupt global authority.
Or proceed as you please – it’s up to you. How much trouble can the three cutest mammals on the block get into on a day like today? I make a clicking sound by pulling the tip of my tongue off the roof of my mouth, an aural expression I equate with speaking squirrel – I come in peace, I want it to mean. If I had something in my pocket to feed them, the whole interaction would be complete, but I’m empty handed then, so we end up inching toward each other for a minute, get in some good meet-and-greet get-to-know-you time. This probably happens every spring, urges me to carry baggies of popcorn on my person when I’m outside, fantasize about squirrels sitting at the picnic table with me, rubbing their fuzzy ears against my chin, buttoning my shirt for me.
We’re in it together – this is what nature told me today and what I think about later in my peace church loft, which sounds like a brand of sustainability, when someday they sell such a thing to the average consumer. Peace Church Loft – what everyone will be into one day, like an incense fragrance, an aural sensation, more or less guaranteed to produce a life sustained. Faith finds its resurgence when new congregations manifest in the environment in order to erect churches that brim with lofts. Thich Nhat Hanh advises: As soon as we understand the causes and nature of our feelings, they begin to transform themselves. Themselves – they transform themselves when we understand. The nature of the universe is to grow reality by comprehending it, a little better tomorrow than today. A ghostly finger grazes fine hairs on my neck, draws a line to my earlobe.
2024.05.22 04:30 cheesefactory420 Accidental chromophore
 | I was starting an EDC/NHS amine coupling in water rxn with a piperazine derivative. submitted by cheesefactory420 to chemistry [link] [comments] The scintillation vial contains the piperazine derivative and EDC, the solution is colorless as expected. The RBF contains the piperazine+ EDC + NHS. Does anyone have knowledge (either reading papers or hands on) where chromophores are made during EDC/NHS reactions, or piperazine+NHS based chromophores? Appreciate any insight because I’m confused how two things that are typically not chromophores, would make one. |
2024.05.22 04:29 No_Dark5339 What are the disadvantages of using WhatsApp buisness for personal messaging?
Since iPhone has some limitations with WhatsApp, you are permitted to have only one WhatsApp account on you iPhone unlike Android. So to use two accounts, I can use WhatsApp for one number and WhatsApp buisness for another number. Is there any disadvantage to doing so?
submitted by No_Dark5339 to whatsapp [link] [comments]
2024.05.22 04:29 DrgnMstrEst On/off pain in lower right leg, no visible symptoms?
Good evening, I am 30F, 5'3", 135lbs, and have had on and off pain in my right lower leg for as long as I can remember.
Most commonly I have the pain in the spring or winter when it is colder, or in cold rooms with air conditioning. The pain sometimes feels like it is in the bone, but more recently it is located in the calf. There is no swelling, no redness, not hot to the touch, no tenderness. Just occasional internal pain. I'd say its a 2/mild - 3/uncomfortable on the pain scale. I do not have the pain when walking or moving. It's usually hurting when I am sitting for long period of times at my office job (I do get up regularly to walk and stretch). Sometimes when I squat down, I get a very sharp pain in the calf which subsides when I stand back up or stretch the leg out. When I was younger I would get cramps at night if it was cold, but I have not had a leg cramp at night in a very long time. I also commonly have the pain if cold air is blowing on my leg (pants, blankets, etc help relieve the pain when this happens). Occasionally I may have pain in my left leg, but its so infrequent and not as noticeable as it is in the right leg.
My family has a history of blood clots. My mother has had them in her legs, and my brother had them several different times over his life before ultimately dying to one in the brain a few years ago when he was 27yo. I have never had a blood clot, but I have received a positive test result for Factor V. Along with losing my brother, I have also lost two friends to blood clots, both had the clots originating in the legs. This has caused increased anxiety regarding clotting. The skin on my legs is quite pale, and some of my veins are visible, but they always have been. I do not see similarities to my families clotted legs, or photos online.
I have read about leg pain caused by barometric pressure, so I've considered this to be the cause of my leg pain for a very long time due to it frequently occurring in cold temperatures. But with my friends recent passing, I am starting to reconsider. I also worry that if the pain is caused by barometric pressure, could this increase the risk for clotting?
Maybe its some type of muscular pain? I work an office job where I'm able to get up hourly to move and stretch, I also go for walks/hikes on the weekends, and sometimes after work, but do not work out regularly.
I have brought up my concerns to two different PCPs (both older males), but both seemed to dismiss my concerns, even when I mentioned my family history. I'm planning on once again finding a new PCP (female this time).
Do you know what may be wrong with my leg? Does it sound like it could be clotting, or something muscular? Any advice is greatly appreciated. Thank you!
submitted by DrgnMstrEst to AskDocs [link] [comments]
Most commonly I have the pain in the spring or winter when it is colder, or in cold rooms with air conditioning. The pain sometimes feels like it is in the bone, but more recently it is located in the calf. There is no swelling, no redness, not hot to the touch, no tenderness. Just occasional internal pain. I'd say its a 2/mild - 3/uncomfortable on the pain scale. I do not have the pain when walking or moving. It's usually hurting when I am sitting for long period of times at my office job (I do get up regularly to walk and stretch). Sometimes when I squat down, I get a very sharp pain in the calf which subsides when I stand back up or stretch the leg out. When I was younger I would get cramps at night if it was cold, but I have not had a leg cramp at night in a very long time. I also commonly have the pain if cold air is blowing on my leg (pants, blankets, etc help relieve the pain when this happens). Occasionally I may have pain in my left leg, but its so infrequent and not as noticeable as it is in the right leg.
My family has a history of blood clots. My mother has had them in her legs, and my brother had them several different times over his life before ultimately dying to one in the brain a few years ago when he was 27yo. I have never had a blood clot, but I have received a positive test result for Factor V. Along with losing my brother, I have also lost two friends to blood clots, both had the clots originating in the legs. This has caused increased anxiety regarding clotting. The skin on my legs is quite pale, and some of my veins are visible, but they always have been. I do not see similarities to my families clotted legs, or photos online.
I have read about leg pain caused by barometric pressure, so I've considered this to be the cause of my leg pain for a very long time due to it frequently occurring in cold temperatures. But with my friends recent passing, I am starting to reconsider. I also worry that if the pain is caused by barometric pressure, could this increase the risk for clotting?
Maybe its some type of muscular pain? I work an office job where I'm able to get up hourly to move and stretch, I also go for walks/hikes on the weekends, and sometimes after work, but do not work out regularly.
I have brought up my concerns to two different PCPs (both older males), but both seemed to dismiss my concerns, even when I mentioned my family history. I'm planning on once again finding a new PCP (female this time).
Do you know what may be wrong with my leg? Does it sound like it could be clotting, or something muscular? Any advice is greatly appreciated. Thank you!
2024.05.22 04:29 TheRealKaiLord I have so many questions and I'd be really happy if y'all could shed light on em. I've researched like crazy but can't find answers.
- Do slight varieties of fruit/vegetables have different microbes? Like Red/White/Yellow Onions?
- Do fruits imported from different countries have different microbes? For instance a local apple vs. an imported one? Thus kind of counting as "two different fruit biomes" to ingest and help your gut?
- Do frozen fruits and vegetables when heated up whether cooking or thru consumption in the body, reactive the frozen microbes?
- Do nuts have good microbes? Does roasting kill the microbes? What about roasting raw ones at home?
- Does meat have good microbes? Does eating a variety of different types of meat and fish help like eating a variety of fruits and vegetables?
- Do canned, but not fermented, vegetables and fruits still have their good microbes or are they kersplated in the canning process? I'm thinking not straight canned veggies, but the ones in the plastic containers at stores, sometimes refrigerated.
- Do dried fruits (including dates and figs) have good microbes?
2024.05.22 04:29 Jm137797 Best $$$ Dining Restaurants Toronto (Open Mondays!)
Yes, kind of a weird question, and i don’t expect anyone to search for restaurants open Mondays, as I already have spent time doing that but still thought i would ask!
My wife and I spend 5 days in the GTA every year, but schedule-wise only have one night downtown to treat ourselves to night with a high-end room, and a fun upscale dining and cocktail/wine experience! Only problem is, its usually on a Monday when most of these types of places are closed :(
The last three years we have done: Richmond Station (chefs table!), Lee Restaurant, and George Restaurant (that was actually a Tuesday) All were Excellent!!
This trip, i have narrowed our Monday options to these:
156 Cumberland Grey Gardens Giulietta Bar Raval or Bar Isabel
Now i am leaning towards the first two. Any opinions on what you would recommend? GG really seems like our vibe with a chefs table, wine, shared plates, funky atmosphere.
Also any fun cocktail bars have a good scene Mondays after supper?
Sorry for the long post. Tyia
submitted by Jm137797 to FoodToronto [link] [comments]
My wife and I spend 5 days in the GTA every year, but schedule-wise only have one night downtown to treat ourselves to night with a high-end room, and a fun upscale dining and cocktail/wine experience! Only problem is, its usually on a Monday when most of these types of places are closed :(
The last three years we have done: Richmond Station (chefs table!), Lee Restaurant, and George Restaurant (that was actually a Tuesday) All were Excellent!!
This trip, i have narrowed our Monday options to these:
156 Cumberland Grey Gardens Giulietta Bar Raval or Bar Isabel
Now i am leaning towards the first two. Any opinions on what you would recommend? GG really seems like our vibe with a chefs table, wine, shared plates, funky atmosphere.
Also any fun cocktail bars have a good scene Mondays after supper?
Sorry for the long post. Tyia
2024.05.22 04:29 DarkStarr88 Paranormal Experience in Marathon, Fl - Are there any internet investigators that can help?
My sister and I just stayed two nights in the Florida Keys in Marathon, Fl. We experienced unexplained paranormal instances and are trying to find some sort of news article or information to prove our suspicions.
When we checked into our room it was already really cold despite the AC not being up.
We spent the day out but when we returned later that night is when things got stranger.
It started with weird crackling noises coming from a large mirror in the room before my sister and I fell asleep. Her and I woke up several times during the night where I felt that I needed to turn on the light to see something, but there would be nothing.
We heard door handles flicking, as if someone was trying to open doors but let the handle flick up.
At one point I heard what sounded like things being thrown on the floor. I can best describe it as if someone dropped empty water bottles on the floor. Again I turned on the light to go check it out and saw nothing. When I came back to bed I tried talking to my sister who was facing away from me. I asked her “did you hear that?” She was responding to me but I couldn’t understand what she as saying… I went back to bed.
Around 4:30am a VERY loud thunderstorm happened. It lasted till 11am the following day.
Later that day my sister and I found a puddle of water. We thought the storm but couldn’t tell where the water was coming from. The uddle was by the balcony door. No sign of it coming from the door tho.. or the ceiling.
Fast forward to later that night. We couldn’t sleep. We were getting ready for bed and I had turned on one of the lights and it started flickering light crazy so I had to turn it off.
The next day we left to check out and there was a puddle of water outside our front door even tho it had not rained in 48 hours and it was really hot out.
After check out my sister told me about her experience the first night it stormed…
She told me that the night it stormed she was falling asleep and had her hand under the pillow beside her. She said she felt as if someone was crawling up the bed and started to lay their head on the pillow. She felt the weight and crevice of where a “head” would be. She freaked out and pushed the pillow off the bed.
We’ve googled stories and deaths in the area to see if anything can provide some answers. We both felt and suspect the presence of a young child, that maybe drowned. Lots of stories about drownings but none that seemed to fit.
The hotel was the Fairfield Inn & Suites in Marathon, FL. The room was 2214.
submitted by DarkStarr88 to Paranormal [link] [comments]
When we checked into our room it was already really cold despite the AC not being up.
We spent the day out but when we returned later that night is when things got stranger.
It started with weird crackling noises coming from a large mirror in the room before my sister and I fell asleep. Her and I woke up several times during the night where I felt that I needed to turn on the light to see something, but there would be nothing.
We heard door handles flicking, as if someone was trying to open doors but let the handle flick up.
At one point I heard what sounded like things being thrown on the floor. I can best describe it as if someone dropped empty water bottles on the floor. Again I turned on the light to go check it out and saw nothing. When I came back to bed I tried talking to my sister who was facing away from me. I asked her “did you hear that?” She was responding to me but I couldn’t understand what she as saying… I went back to bed.
Around 4:30am a VERY loud thunderstorm happened. It lasted till 11am the following day.
Later that day my sister and I found a puddle of water. We thought the storm but couldn’t tell where the water was coming from. The uddle was by the balcony door. No sign of it coming from the door tho.. or the ceiling.
Fast forward to later that night. We couldn’t sleep. We were getting ready for bed and I had turned on one of the lights and it started flickering light crazy so I had to turn it off.
The next day we left to check out and there was a puddle of water outside our front door even tho it had not rained in 48 hours and it was really hot out.
After check out my sister told me about her experience the first night it stormed…
She told me that the night it stormed she was falling asleep and had her hand under the pillow beside her. She said she felt as if someone was crawling up the bed and started to lay their head on the pillow. She felt the weight and crevice of where a “head” would be. She freaked out and pushed the pillow off the bed.
We’ve googled stories and deaths in the area to see if anything can provide some answers. We both felt and suspect the presence of a young child, that maybe drowned. Lots of stories about drownings but none that seemed to fit.
The hotel was the Fairfield Inn & Suites in Marathon, FL. The room was 2214.
2024.05.22 04:29 Similar_Way_9117 [Recruiting] Undying Light #2GQY0JQLL TH13+ Clan Level 11 War/Clan Capital/Social/Clan Games Undying Brotherhood
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- 🪖 Masters III in CWL for your Hammers!
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- 🎖️ 1000+ RAID MEDALS PER RAID WEEKEND
- 🔥 Must be TH13+, doesn’t matter if you’re rushed or maxed, we don’t discriminate!
- 🗡️ Pull your weight during war and Raid Weekend, participation is key!
- 🚨 Be active! No one likes a deadbeat clan member! Inactive for 3+ days without notice = 🥾
📲 Clan Discord:
2024.05.22 04:29 56M50 [F] The Valkyrie
Hey everyone. I wrote this a while ago and never did anything with it. Just seeing what other people think, and if it's worth continuing.
The black Monte Carlo sped north on Third, passing Pike Street and slowing down before hitting Pine Street. The sidewalks were littered with detritus, both the organic and inorganic varieties. It was hard to distinguish between the piles of trash and the drug addicts huddled under their blankets, sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for someone to give them money or someone to sell them drugs. The car slowed even more as they saw a prospective customer. It was a black car with blacked out windows. 22 inch low profile tires, mag rims. It passed Pine, drove another block and hung a right onto Stewart.
Astrid twisted the throttle of her bike to keep the car in sight. She’d been tailing it for half an hour, ever since it had stopped at Jenny’s house. Astrid knew exactly why it had been there, and she wasn’t happy about it at all. Jenny had spent a long time getting clean, getting off the street. Building a life that didn’t involve drugs or selling herself at the whim of some pimp. When Jenny had called Astrid in tears, it took everything she had not to run over there and be the comforting shoulder. But sometimes you needed to take a different tact, and Jenny had shoulders aplenty to cry on. The punks in the car had leaned on Jenny, trying to get her back in the business. They thought they could intimidate her into compliance. Nobody knew how the punks had gotten her info, but there they were, big as life and twice as ugly. Astrid had gotten a description of the punks and their car, and caught up to them as they made their way down Broadway on Capitol Hill, and then down University Street to downtown Seattle. There was enough light from streetlights and buildings that Astrid reached down and flicked a switch that turned her headlights off. It had cost a bit of money to have that installed. It made the matte-black bike almost invisible at night. Couple that with some very expensive exhaust that muted the bike into almost complete silence, and if you weren’t looking at her you wouldn’t notice that she was riding by. Which also made it a lot more dangerous to be riding at night, but what Astrid wanted to do required at least a little bit of surprise. That made it worth the risk.
The car turned right again on 5th Avenue and made a circle to come back to Third. Astrid knew they wouldn’t get out of the car to do their deals. That made her job a bit more difficult, but still possible. She copied their turn and hung back a bit, letting them find their spot. The car slowed more and pulled over to the curb. A few of the vagrants got up and stumbled over to the passenger window, where transactions were made, some silent, some not so much. There was little fear of any cops doing anything. The Seattle PD had been neutered for some years, and now the drug dealers, addicts and various other flavor of criminals ruled the streets.
Astrid pulled her bike to the curb behind the Monte Carlo and turned it off. She doubted anyone could find the start button since she had it moved, but there was no need to tempt anyone with a running engine. She walked quietly up the driver’s side of the car. Her black leathers and black helment left her as a silhouette on shadow. The driver’s window was down, and the smell of marijuana smoke made her nose wrinkle. The people in the car were focused on the vagrant who was haggling for more of whatever they were selling, and she was able to walk up to the driver’s window without anyone even noticing she was there. As she walked she pulled her silenced Walther P22 from her jacket. People can laugh at the 22 Long Rifle all they want. Pea shooter. Not a real bullet. Get a real gun. Whatever. That little bullet came out humming, and at close range she didn’t need a bigger gun. It wasn’t going to bounce off a human skull when it was fired from six inches away, it was going in nice and deep.
The man in the driver’s seat managed to notice that someone was at his window about a second before Astrid pulled the trigger.
People who have only seen guns in movies tend to think that a silenced firearm just makes a little “pff” noise when it’s fired. That’s not the case. There’s still an explosion going on in your hand, and that explosion makes noise. Especially in a semi-automatic firearm, where the slide cycles back to eject the spent casing. Noise escapes. Noise escapes from the silencer as well, it’s just not as loud. Anyone who’s aware and alert would know that a gun had just been fired. With a super-sonic round, there’s also the “crack” of the bullet traveling through the air above the speed of sound, but when your target is six inches away from the muzzle that’s less of an issue.
The driver had not been aware, nor alert. He was now slumped in his seat, eyes opened wide in an astonished stare as his brain functions ceased thanks to a 40 grain bullet traveling at 1260 feet per second. The passenger, bags of drugs still in his hand, was now aware but not alert. Either he was too stoned to know what had just happened, or the years of drug use made his brain operate slower than it normally would. He stared as Astrid shifted her aim and pulled the trigger again.
Funny thing about silencers – they take some time to warm up. The hot gasses pushing the bullet down the barrel get into the baffles of the silencer and make the next shots even less noisy. There’s still noise, and again, if someone were aware and alert they would know that a gun had just been fired. The passenger slumped sideways in his seat as the bullet hit him dead center on the side of his head. The vagrant who had been hassling him for drugs gaped, looking over the roof of the car at Astrid. He blinked, trying to process what he had seen, and Astrid wondered if she would have to take him out as well. He looked down at the dead drug dealer, then reached into the car and grabbed as many little baggies as he could before hauling ass down the sidewalk.
Astrid walked back to her bike, stomach clenching. She grit her teeth against the urge to vomit as she threw her leg over the seat and fired the engine to life. She pulled away from the curb and drove two blocks before turning her headlights on. She turned right onto Cedar Street, then continued on to Fifth Avenue North, driving past the gleaming metal shell of the Experience Music Project. She made it to Mercer Street before she had to pull over and rip her helmet off, then proceeded to vomit into the grass next to the sidewalk. Nobody bothered to give her a second look. Some lady puking her guts out? Just another druggie in downtown Seattle. Nothing to see here. In the midst of her vomit session a tiny thought in the back of her head wondered if she could find a modular helmet so she wouldn’t have to take the entire helmet off when she puked. She would have giggled if she wasn’t throwing up.
Once she’d emptied the contents of her stomach on the grass she put her helmet back on and rolled through the stoplight, turning right onto Mercer and taking a zig-zag route back to her house. She altered her speed several times, slowing down and then speeding up and making sharp turns to see if she was being followed. There wasn’t a tail in sight and it was doubtful there would be. She desperately needed a drink to get the taste out of her mouth. Her stomach rolled again, and she gagged before managing to get her body under control. As she rode under the Highway 99 overpass, she could feel the tears rolling down her face. Again. The one action of her body that she could never seem to control. But she was working on it.
submitted by 56M50 to story [link] [comments]
The black Monte Carlo sped north on Third, passing Pike Street and slowing down before hitting Pine Street. The sidewalks were littered with detritus, both the organic and inorganic varieties. It was hard to distinguish between the piles of trash and the drug addicts huddled under their blankets, sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for someone to give them money or someone to sell them drugs. The car slowed even more as they saw a prospective customer. It was a black car with blacked out windows. 22 inch low profile tires, mag rims. It passed Pine, drove another block and hung a right onto Stewart.
Astrid twisted the throttle of her bike to keep the car in sight. She’d been tailing it for half an hour, ever since it had stopped at Jenny’s house. Astrid knew exactly why it had been there, and she wasn’t happy about it at all. Jenny had spent a long time getting clean, getting off the street. Building a life that didn’t involve drugs or selling herself at the whim of some pimp. When Jenny had called Astrid in tears, it took everything she had not to run over there and be the comforting shoulder. But sometimes you needed to take a different tact, and Jenny had shoulders aplenty to cry on. The punks in the car had leaned on Jenny, trying to get her back in the business. They thought they could intimidate her into compliance. Nobody knew how the punks had gotten her info, but there they were, big as life and twice as ugly. Astrid had gotten a description of the punks and their car, and caught up to them as they made their way down Broadway on Capitol Hill, and then down University Street to downtown Seattle. There was enough light from streetlights and buildings that Astrid reached down and flicked a switch that turned her headlights off. It had cost a bit of money to have that installed. It made the matte-black bike almost invisible at night. Couple that with some very expensive exhaust that muted the bike into almost complete silence, and if you weren’t looking at her you wouldn’t notice that she was riding by. Which also made it a lot more dangerous to be riding at night, but what Astrid wanted to do required at least a little bit of surprise. That made it worth the risk.
The car turned right again on 5th Avenue and made a circle to come back to Third. Astrid knew they wouldn’t get out of the car to do their deals. That made her job a bit more difficult, but still possible. She copied their turn and hung back a bit, letting them find their spot. The car slowed more and pulled over to the curb. A few of the vagrants got up and stumbled over to the passenger window, where transactions were made, some silent, some not so much. There was little fear of any cops doing anything. The Seattle PD had been neutered for some years, and now the drug dealers, addicts and various other flavor of criminals ruled the streets.
Astrid pulled her bike to the curb behind the Monte Carlo and turned it off. She doubted anyone could find the start button since she had it moved, but there was no need to tempt anyone with a running engine. She walked quietly up the driver’s side of the car. Her black leathers and black helment left her as a silhouette on shadow. The driver’s window was down, and the smell of marijuana smoke made her nose wrinkle. The people in the car were focused on the vagrant who was haggling for more of whatever they were selling, and she was able to walk up to the driver’s window without anyone even noticing she was there. As she walked she pulled her silenced Walther P22 from her jacket. People can laugh at the 22 Long Rifle all they want. Pea shooter. Not a real bullet. Get a real gun. Whatever. That little bullet came out humming, and at close range she didn’t need a bigger gun. It wasn’t going to bounce off a human skull when it was fired from six inches away, it was going in nice and deep.
The man in the driver’s seat managed to notice that someone was at his window about a second before Astrid pulled the trigger.
People who have only seen guns in movies tend to think that a silenced firearm just makes a little “pff” noise when it’s fired. That’s not the case. There’s still an explosion going on in your hand, and that explosion makes noise. Especially in a semi-automatic firearm, where the slide cycles back to eject the spent casing. Noise escapes. Noise escapes from the silencer as well, it’s just not as loud. Anyone who’s aware and alert would know that a gun had just been fired. With a super-sonic round, there’s also the “crack” of the bullet traveling through the air above the speed of sound, but when your target is six inches away from the muzzle that’s less of an issue.
The driver had not been aware, nor alert. He was now slumped in his seat, eyes opened wide in an astonished stare as his brain functions ceased thanks to a 40 grain bullet traveling at 1260 feet per second. The passenger, bags of drugs still in his hand, was now aware but not alert. Either he was too stoned to know what had just happened, or the years of drug use made his brain operate slower than it normally would. He stared as Astrid shifted her aim and pulled the trigger again.
Funny thing about silencers – they take some time to warm up. The hot gasses pushing the bullet down the barrel get into the baffles of the silencer and make the next shots even less noisy. There’s still noise, and again, if someone were aware and alert they would know that a gun had just been fired. The passenger slumped sideways in his seat as the bullet hit him dead center on the side of his head. The vagrant who had been hassling him for drugs gaped, looking over the roof of the car at Astrid. He blinked, trying to process what he had seen, and Astrid wondered if she would have to take him out as well. He looked down at the dead drug dealer, then reached into the car and grabbed as many little baggies as he could before hauling ass down the sidewalk.
Astrid walked back to her bike, stomach clenching. She grit her teeth against the urge to vomit as she threw her leg over the seat and fired the engine to life. She pulled away from the curb and drove two blocks before turning her headlights on. She turned right onto Cedar Street, then continued on to Fifth Avenue North, driving past the gleaming metal shell of the Experience Music Project. She made it to Mercer Street before she had to pull over and rip her helmet off, then proceeded to vomit into the grass next to the sidewalk. Nobody bothered to give her a second look. Some lady puking her guts out? Just another druggie in downtown Seattle. Nothing to see here. In the midst of her vomit session a tiny thought in the back of her head wondered if she could find a modular helmet so she wouldn’t have to take the entire helmet off when she puked. She would have giggled if she wasn’t throwing up.
Once she’d emptied the contents of her stomach on the grass she put her helmet back on and rolled through the stoplight, turning right onto Mercer and taking a zig-zag route back to her house. She altered her speed several times, slowing down and then speeding up and making sharp turns to see if she was being followed. There wasn’t a tail in sight and it was doubtful there would be. She desperately needed a drink to get the taste out of her mouth. Her stomach rolled again, and she gagged before managing to get her body under control. As she rode under the Highway 99 overpass, she could feel the tears rolling down her face. Again. The one action of her body that she could never seem to control. But she was working on it.
2024.05.22 04:29 TM545 55 Gallon Pea Puffer stocking question
Hi everyone!
I’m planning out a 55 gallon tank 4ftx1ftx21in, I have most of my hardscape together but this is definitely a longer process so it’s not a rush
Once the tank is cycled (heavily planted, obvs) I’m planning to add shrimp and then a few months later pea puffers.
I had two questions:
1) how many peas do you think is reasonable? 12? 18?
2) would a school of otos (6ish?) be a good idea? I’ve read that they’re one of the few fish that can be kept with peas but due to conflicting sources I’m not sure
Any other tips would be great, if I’m asking the wrong sub I will definitely take this down and repost it if it needs to be somewhere else!
submitted by TM545 to PlantedTank [link] [comments]
I’m planning out a 55 gallon tank 4ftx1ftx21in, I have most of my hardscape together but this is definitely a longer process so it’s not a rush
Once the tank is cycled (heavily planted, obvs) I’m planning to add shrimp and then a few months later pea puffers.
I had two questions:
1) how many peas do you think is reasonable? 12? 18?
2) would a school of otos (6ish?) be a good idea? I’ve read that they’re one of the few fish that can be kept with peas but due to conflicting sources I’m not sure
Any other tips would be great, if I’m asking the wrong sub I will definitely take this down and repost it if it needs to be somewhere else!
2024.05.22 04:29 Technical_Cod4355 Graduating
I graduate high school tomorrow. This whole senior year has been very hard for me because I’ve done everything without my dad. The only person I want to be at my graduation can’t be there tomorrow. I miss him so much.
He died when I was 11, im 17 now but it hurts so much. I will see everyone there with their two parents tomorrow and it will hit again all over like in middle school when I was really jealous of everyone for having a stable “normal” family.
There will be a missing spot in the stands where there should be one. I was too young to even talk about any of this with him (high school, college.) school and education was always very important to him. I wish he could see me now. I just don’t know how to feel better.
submitted by Technical_Cod4355 to GriefSupport [link] [comments]
He died when I was 11, im 17 now but it hurts so much. I will see everyone there with their two parents tomorrow and it will hit again all over like in middle school when I was really jealous of everyone for having a stable “normal” family.
There will be a missing spot in the stands where there should be one. I was too young to even talk about any of this with him (high school, college.) school and education was always very important to him. I wish he could see me now. I just don’t know how to feel better.
2024.05.22 04:29 wingdingstars PLEASE stop with ChatGPT
Every time one of the boys pulls it up to answer a question I roll my eyes. Or god forbid not Google something. I would LOVE to have heard their genuine answers to Bob's Children's Book episode! I wouldn't care if they're messy or sucked! We're all here for their funny, creative personalities! We KNOW you can do improv guys!! If I wanted a robotic, unfunny answer I would listen to a politician.
submitted by wingdingstars to distractible [link] [comments]
2024.05.22 04:29 ScottMou Thinking of starting a MyFaction SpeedRun competition? Thoughts? Ideas?
I am thinking it would be cool to run a competition in the sub where I designate a certain card or a certain kind of card that you have to run a week of weekly towers through and the fastest gets a console gift card.
So like for instance I choose weekly towers week two and you have to only use an emerald token card so that the most number of people can participate. How would y'all feel about that? Do you guys have any ideas to spice it up?
submitted by ScottMou to MyFaction [link] [comments]
So like for instance I choose weekly towers week two and you have to only use an emerald token card so that the most number of people can participate. How would y'all feel about that? Do you guys have any ideas to spice it up?
2024.05.22 04:29 burnslikesandpaper How bad does someone's references need to be...
How bad does someone's references need to be that you'll pass them over even if it means leaving a hole in the roster? Not someone you have personal experience with but based only on references?
My location has rescinded two offers over the past few months. Both due to bad references. One was a 3 year fed seasonal selected for a perm position and the other would have been a first year rookie coming from some kind of retail job.
It got me wondering...
submitted by burnslikesandpaper to Wildfire [link] [comments]
My location has rescinded two offers over the past few months. Both due to bad references. One was a 3 year fed seasonal selected for a perm position and the other would have been a first year rookie coming from some kind of retail job.
It got me wondering...
2024.05.22 04:29 Johnnyg1975 Now the Discord is full of the interns!!
This has to be one hell of play. I mean these guys are working in shifts, around the clock to spread fear. I can’t believe it. I’m no expert but what are sitting on. It’s got to be fucking huge!!
submitted by Johnnyg1975 to FFIE [link] [comments]