Mhr light bowgun build
Just venting because I don't know where to put my feelings
2023.05.30 23:17 frailearth Just venting because I don't know where to put my feelings
I know we're not working out. I've known it for a long time. It was apparently when we started arguing three weeks into our relationship and here we are 8 months later.... still fighting. I don't even know why half the time. You think I'm inconsiderate, and I think you're constantly criticizing me. I'm 31 and I feel like I'm failing myself, failing my love life. All I've ever wanted was a healthy relationship and to build a family. I guess maybe I ignored things that didn't sit well with me in the beginning. I feel like I hurt myself in the process of trying to feel loved. But I don't feel loved. I don't feel held. I don't feel seen. I want that from you, but I don't think it will ever happen, even though I know you really do care about me. I've just lost hope of having my needs met, and feeling like I can meet all your needs. I'm feeling myself slide down a slow, dark spiral into the terrible unknown and I'm trying to grab ahold of any light I can to take with my on this new, weird journey that I have to face alone, but light is elusive and impalpable and I can't seem to grasp it and I'm so scared because I don't know what's in the Great Dark Unknown and now... now I know I'll no longer have your hand to hold to comfort me. Even if I always complained that you never held my hand tight enough, at least it was a semblance of solace in knowing that I wasn't alone. I know I deserve better, and you deserve a love that serves you well too. You're not a terrible person-- you're a really good person-- I just don't want to be stuck in a situation where I constantly feel like I'm the terrible person because you don't like my idiosyncrasies or my faults or my personal history. I don't want to be stuck in a situation where there's a lack of physical and emotional intimacy, and far too many complaints about one another.
I'm crying so much now; change happens at the drop of a dime. My broken heart is leaking its aching pain into my guts and the whole inside of my body just hurts and the whole outside of my body is blunted and every incoming stimuli from the world around me feels bland at best and offensive at worst.
I just want to be loved, and all at once I know, and don't know, why we couldn't get along and make this a good thing.
submitted by frailearth to heartbreak [link] [comments]
I'm crying so much now; change happens at the drop of a dime. My broken heart is leaking its aching pain into my guts and the whole inside of my body just hurts and the whole outside of my body is blunted and every incoming stimuli from the world around me feels bland at best and offensive at worst.
I just want to be loved, and all at once I know, and don't know, why we couldn't get along and make this a good thing.
2023.05.30 23:14 TheFairestCastle Addam Frey, Lord of the Crossing
Character Application
- Discord Name: imNotGoodAtNaming#3022
- Name and House: Addam Frey
- Age: 18
- Appearance: Addam is, unlike his great-grandfather Forrest, a man clearly not built to wield a sword. Though tall, his slender and rather wiry build gives him a rather unimposing presence. He wears his hair slightly too long, hanging low across his eyes and curling around his neck, and his gaze seems permanently wary, always on edge. Addam seldom smiles in public, and dark bags beneath his eyes bely the troublesome relationship he has with sleep. Much like how his grandfather Franklyn made up for his lack of swordsmanship with his impressive stewardship abilities, Addam makes up for his own faults with an impressive ability to talk, peddle information, and play the other side of the game.
- Gifts: Gossiper
- Skills: Cautious (e), Espionage, Torturer, Subtle
- Talents: Hunting, Riding, Swimming, Whittling
- Negative Traits: N/A
- Starting Titles: Lord of the Crossing
- Starting Location: Feast/King’s Landing
- Family Tree: House Frey in 207 AC
- Alternate Characters: N/A for now
Timeline
- 187 AC: Perianne Frey, Addam’s elder sister, is born to Symond Frey and Marilda Celtigar.
- 189 AC: Addam and Marissa Frey are born to Symond and Marilda.
- 194 AC: Addam begins his tutelage under Symond. As the heir’s heir, his father gives him a well-rounded education — involving stewardship, military command, and diplomacy, alongside the usual nobleman's education.
- 200 AC: Symond dies whilst riding along the Green Fork, after his horse slips along the slippery rocks — falling into the river and trapping Symond underneath. Symond drowns before his horse can be lifted off him, leaving Addam as heir.
- 203 AC: Frey Regency Crisis
- 2nd Moon: Lord Franklyn Frey dies, Addam Frey becomes Lord. Perwyn Frey is named regent in Lord Franklyn’s will.
- 3rd Moon: While traveling, Perwyn Frey’s camp is set upon by supposed bandits. Perwyn Frey and his son Theomore Frey die; Celesse Frey survives after riding away into the woods on her lonesome. Osmund Frey is the new regent.
- 5th Moon: A catspaw breaks into the East Castle and sets the Lord’s chambers ablaze. Addam and Marissa are rescued from within by men loyal to Lyonel Frey and House Nayland, but Marissa gets briefly trapped beneath a burning log. Marissa’s face is permanently disfigured as a result.
- 6th Moon: Osmund Frey and his youngest son Raymond Frey are murdered in their beds. Osmund’s eldest son, Walton Frey, rides with his sister Sarra to his mother’s home at Breaker's Beak, and does not return until Bertram is arrested. Bertram Frey is named regent.
- 7th Moon: “Black Benfrey” Rivers, bastard son of Bertram Frey, is caught trying to contact catspaws and other shady figures in a town nearby Hag’s Mire, and is arrested. Bertram attempts to downplay his bastard’s actions as those of a rogue bastard — but Addam secretly goes behind his Uncle’s back and orders Black Benfrey to be tortured for information.
- 8th Moon: Under torture, Black Benfrey admits his own role and the role of his father in the death of Perwyn, Theomore, Osmund, and Raymond, as well as the attack on Addam himself. Bertram is arrested by Lyonel’s men.
- 9th Moon: Eamon Frey leaves the Twins, under suspicion of being involved in Bertram and Benfrey’s plots, but with no firm evidence available. Addam orders a dozen Frey guards to attempt to chase Eamon down, but Eamon evades them and rides into Mallister lands before he can be caught. From Seagard, he takes a ship south.
- 10th Moon: Bertram and Black Benfrey are executed. Lyonel is offered the regency, but refuses. Addam’s mother, Marilda Celtigar, is declared Regent.
- 204 AC: Lyonel Frey leaves the Twins — coincidentally also riding to Seagard.
- 205 AC: On his sixteenth name day, Addam begins to rule in his own right.
- 206 AC: Arrangements for a betrothal between Addam Frey and Alys Blackwood begins.
- 206 AC: Perianne Frey leaves the Twins and marries Osric Dustin.
- 207 AC: Marissa Frey leaves the Twins and marries Paxter Redwyne.
- 207 AC: Addam Frey leaves the Twins and travels towards King’s Landing.
Auxiliary Character Application
- Name and House: Eamon “the Exile” Frey
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Eamon shares the common Frey look; brown hair and brown eyes, with light facial hair. However, years of stress resulting from his exile from his homeland has aged him beyond his years — worry lines surround his eyes, and his brows are nearly always furrowed. Unlike his Lordly cousin, Eamon clearly does take after Forrest Frey’s martial legacy — being well-built from years training with swords and armor. Despite his status in exile, Eamon remains proud of his heritage and station. He spends gold freely on clothes, jewelry, horses, and other objects of luxury befitting a noble, and a brooch emblazoned with the sigil of House Frey is always visible on his body: a reminder of what he has been forced away from.
- Gifts: Duelist
- Skills: Swords, Tactician, Defender
- Talents: Hunting, Swimming, Cyvasse
- Negative Traits: N/A
- Starting Titles: Scion of House Frey
- Starting Location: With the household of House Lannister of Lannisport
Auxiliary Character Timeline
- 177 AC: Benfrey Rivers, illegitimate son of Bertram Frey, is born.
- 180 AC: Eamon Frey, son of Bertram Frey and Darla Haigh, is born.
- 186 AC: Eamon begins to squire for Symond Frey, his uncle and heir to the Twins.
- 194 AC: Eamon excels at swordplay, and begins to undergo more strenuous and personal training with his Uncle.
- 198 AC: Eamon leads a group of Frey knights in battling and capturing a group of bandits along the Frey Plains. For this, he is knighted by Symond.
- 200 AC: Symond drowns in the Green Fork after a freak riding accident. Eamon is greatly affected by the death of his mentor.
- 203 AC: Frey Regency Crisis
- Despite Eamon being Bertram’s son, Bertram almost does not view Eamon as his own. Bertram sees Eamon’s close relationship to the late Symond as evidence of Eamon being untrustworthy, and does not entrust Eamon with his plot to seize control of the regency — and subsequently the Lordship of the Crossing.
- As Freys begin to die every week or two, Eamon is terrified alongside the rest of his family. He is sent to Haigh Hill for a few months — ostensibly to keep him safe from the chaos of the Twins.
- Black Benfrey and Bertram are subsequently arrested and interrogated. Neither give any inclination that Eamon has been involved in their plans, but Addam is nevertheless suspicious of him.
- Eamon returns to the Twins and witnesses the execution of his half-brother and his father. He swears to Addam of having no part in his father’s treason — but Addam seems unperturbed. The next day, Eamon departs from the Twins and rides West.
- Addam’s prior suspicions about Eamon seem to have been confirmed, and he dispatches a dozen Frey guards to ride after Eamon, but the guards do not catch Eamon before Eamon enters Mallister lands. The guards don’t cross into Mallister lands, not wishing to spark a bigger incident.
- 203 AC: Eamon is welcomed in the household of Seagard, remaining there briefly to catch his breath and prepare himself for the journey.
- 204 AC: Eamon departs from Seagard onboard a trading ship, and sails south. The ship docks in Lannisport, and he disembarks. With his inheritance from his father and his own personal allowance, he has a decent amount of gold — and finds lodgings in a high-brow inn.
- 205 AC: Attending a social event in Lannisport, Eamon meets Tyshara Lannister. The two court briefly.
- 206 AC: Eamon and Tyshara marry.
- 207 AC: Eamon reluctantly tags along with the Lannisters towards King’s Landing — hoping to stay far away from his cousin, who has doubtlessly received word of his marriage to a Lannister and wishes to see Eamon arrested.
Archetype NPCs
- Ser Lyle Nayland — Swords
- Ser Lyle Nayland is Addam’s sworn sword, and Addam’s good-uncle through his late sister’s marriage to Lyonel Frey. Lyle was the one who saved Addam and Marissa during the burning of the Lord’s chambers, and earned Addam’s respect and loyalty for this action. He remains one of the few individuals who Addam legitimately trusts and, as Addam’s protector, is an ever present shadow behind Addam.
- Ser Olyvar Charlton — Tactician
- Ser Olyvar Charlton is another one of Addam’s close confidantes. Olyvar was close to Addam’s father Symond, and has subsequently joined up with Addam’s entourage. Olyvar’s specialty lies in command, and he has been entrusted as Addam’s primary battlefield commander — given Addam’s own rather lacking personal ability in command.
2023.05.30 23:12 MyEyesAreUpQueer 30F-ish in Wisco
Single/Taken/Complicated: Single
Seeking Relationship/Friends/Squish/Other: Relationship, down for friends too!
Romantic Orientation: Romantically attracted to masculine folks, would also consider a QPR with any gender. I haven’t tried dating since I finally figured out I’m ace a couple years ago so bear with me please! I’m sex-positive but super indifferent. Could go the rest of my life without it but not opposed with the right person. Happy to cuddle though!
Gender: AFAB feminine NB
Pronouns: She/they
Age: 30
Height/Build: 5’4 average weight, could probably do with more squats
Physical Description: I’m white with a splash of Filipino. Dark brown hair and eyes, light skinned because I’m a creature of the night. Prone to bouts of bright red hair. Lots of piercings and easily visible tattoos. My clothing aesthetic is matching sweatsuits or “found lying on a beach somewhere.”
Personality Description: it’s the childhood trauma that makes me occasionally funny. I can easily pass for an extrovert but I need solitude to recover. My favorite root vegetable is the parsnip. I play on casual mode because I feel impotent rage when video games are better than me and I’m only here for the story anyway. I’m aegosexual so I read super smutty books but I cringe at sex scenes if I’m watching tv/movies with other people. Will serenade you from the shower with an eclectic repertoire; one day it could be Enya and the next it could be The Doors. I was kind of a big deal in high school choir so it probably won’t be miserable to listen to for the rest of your life. I will crochet your family gifts but I’m limited to rectangles. I like to watch K-dramas without dubs because I think romance sounds lovely in Korean. Walking around the local conservancy is my favorite way to top up on nature and vitamin D, and my cat Winnie is responsible for that last serotonin molecule rattling around my head. I don’t plan on having children but I can totally channel grandma energy and hold other people’s babies!
I’m in graduate school so I’ll be stuck where I am for a while and will probably need to work in this area for at least a year after but I’m not committed to Wisconsin forever. Building a witch house in the woods is non-negotiable however. Would like to live within reasonable driving distance to a metropolitan area but I like the small town feel.
I’m not super keen on dating, but I want to be someone’s person and I want someone to be mine.
submitted by MyEyesAreUpQueer to asexualdating [link] [comments]
Seeking Relationship/Friends/Squish/Other: Relationship, down for friends too!
Romantic Orientation: Romantically attracted to masculine folks, would also consider a QPR with any gender. I haven’t tried dating since I finally figured out I’m ace a couple years ago so bear with me please! I’m sex-positive but super indifferent. Could go the rest of my life without it but not opposed with the right person. Happy to cuddle though!
Gender: AFAB feminine NB
Pronouns: She/they
Age: 30
Height/Build: 5’4 average weight, could probably do with more squats
Physical Description: I’m white with a splash of Filipino. Dark brown hair and eyes, light skinned because I’m a creature of the night. Prone to bouts of bright red hair. Lots of piercings and easily visible tattoos. My clothing aesthetic is matching sweatsuits or “found lying on a beach somewhere.”
Personality Description: it’s the childhood trauma that makes me occasionally funny. I can easily pass for an extrovert but I need solitude to recover. My favorite root vegetable is the parsnip. I play on casual mode because I feel impotent rage when video games are better than me and I’m only here for the story anyway. I’m aegosexual so I read super smutty books but I cringe at sex scenes if I’m watching tv/movies with other people. Will serenade you from the shower with an eclectic repertoire; one day it could be Enya and the next it could be The Doors. I was kind of a big deal in high school choir so it probably won’t be miserable to listen to for the rest of your life. I will crochet your family gifts but I’m limited to rectangles. I like to watch K-dramas without dubs because I think romance sounds lovely in Korean. Walking around the local conservancy is my favorite way to top up on nature and vitamin D, and my cat Winnie is responsible for that last serotonin molecule rattling around my head. I don’t plan on having children but I can totally channel grandma energy and hold other people’s babies!
I’m in graduate school so I’ll be stuck where I am for a while and will probably need to work in this area for at least a year after but I’m not committed to Wisconsin forever. Building a witch house in the woods is non-negotiable however. Would like to live within reasonable driving distance to a metropolitan area but I like the small town feel.
I’m not super keen on dating, but I want to be someone’s person and I want someone to be mine.
2023.05.30 23:04 BanditGolden Is this going to work? I just built this light bar in a kitchen cuttout yesterday.
 | I’ll start by saying my home gets horrible natural light, and unless my plants are outside or right up against a window, they do not do well. I had an old aquarium light that is meant for growing coral, so I decided to build it in a window and make it look nice. Will these plants do ok with the same amount of light? Pothos, hoya, a few succulents and cacti, and a lucky bamboo in water. submitted by BanditGolden to IndoorGarden [link] [comments] |
2023.05.30 23:02 Kuggj What is it worth, since it is lv40?
 | submitted by Kuggj to Market76 [link] [comments] |
2023.05.30 22:59 nicdunz Don’t want to think? Try this.
 | submitted by nicdunz to ChatGPT [link] [comments] |
2023.05.30 22:54 B4r7P1mp50n Projector and Screen
Hi all,
We are building a home theater in the basement. Based on sitting distance, we've determined 135" will be the right size. (12-15" from screen depending on seat)
We will be using it for gaming, sports, and movies. We'd also like to have a set-up that still looks good if some lights are in the room adjacent to the theater set-up (dimly).
I'd be willing to pay up to about $5k for the projector as long as it can be justified by quality. We want as high as quality and resolution as possible but also low input lag for gaming. Projector will be mounted on the ceiling so easy settings management would be preferred as well. I have a PS5 I plan to use on it.
I need help in two areas:
(1) The three projectors I've come across and seem to be highly reviewed are: - BenQ x3000i ~$2,000 - Epson LS11000 ~$3800 - Epson LS12000 $4800
The Ben Q seems like it is highly reviewed but a pain to set-up. For anyone who has experience with both, what other differences am I getting for the $1800 jump to LS1100? What about the additional $1000 for 12000? Has to be a reason for the higher price-point. Didn't quite follow it reading the specs.
(2) Projector Screen I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here. I had no idea projector screens could be $2-5000 themselves. How can some be 4k and some not? Is that not what the projector does? I'm having trouble finding good answers. I found this one for <$400 on Amazon (link below) and some of the reviews say it is the same material as the high-end options. What would be the purpose of spending $1000s on a screen? I want to maximize the potential of my projector and am willing to pay but don't want to spend money just to spend it if it makes no difference. Thank you in advance for any help and recommendations.
https://www.amazon.com/Elite-Screens-Sable-Frame-135-INCH/dp/B00Y7X9WI2/ref=sr_1_19_sspa?keywords=135%2Binch%2Bprojector%2Bscreen&qid=1685477991&s=electronics&sprefix=135%22%2Celectronics%2C122&sr=1-19-spons&ufe=app_do%3Aamzn1.fos.ac2169a1-b668-44b9-8bd0-5ec63b24bcb5&spLa=ZW5jcnlwdGVkUXVhbGlmaWVyPUEzVVBOMDcyRjlIS1NUJmVuY3J5cHRlZElkPUEwNDM4MDE0MU0wTlRCWjhGQVozUCZlbmNyeXB0ZWRBZElkPUEwMTQyOTY1UkJJN0M5RjMxSEpOJndpZGdldE5hbWU9c3BfYnRmJmFjdGlvbj1jbGlja1JlZGlyZWN0JmRvTm90TG9nQ2xpY2s9dHJ1ZQ&th=1
submitted by B4r7P1mp50n to hometheater [link] [comments]
We are building a home theater in the basement. Based on sitting distance, we've determined 135" will be the right size. (12-15" from screen depending on seat)
We will be using it for gaming, sports, and movies. We'd also like to have a set-up that still looks good if some lights are in the room adjacent to the theater set-up (dimly).
I'd be willing to pay up to about $5k for the projector as long as it can be justified by quality. We want as high as quality and resolution as possible but also low input lag for gaming. Projector will be mounted on the ceiling so easy settings management would be preferred as well. I have a PS5 I plan to use on it.
I need help in two areas:
(1) The three projectors I've come across and seem to be highly reviewed are: - BenQ x3000i ~$2,000 - Epson LS11000 ~$3800 - Epson LS12000 $4800
The Ben Q seems like it is highly reviewed but a pain to set-up. For anyone who has experience with both, what other differences am I getting for the $1800 jump to LS1100? What about the additional $1000 for 12000? Has to be a reason for the higher price-point. Didn't quite follow it reading the specs.
(2) Projector Screen I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here. I had no idea projector screens could be $2-5000 themselves. How can some be 4k and some not? Is that not what the projector does? I'm having trouble finding good answers. I found this one for <$400 on Amazon (link below) and some of the reviews say it is the same material as the high-end options. What would be the purpose of spending $1000s on a screen? I want to maximize the potential of my projector and am willing to pay but don't want to spend money just to spend it if it makes no difference. Thank you in advance for any help and recommendations.
https://www.amazon.com/Elite-Screens-Sable-Frame-135-INCH/dp/B00Y7X9WI2/ref=sr_1_19_sspa?keywords=135%2Binch%2Bprojector%2Bscreen&qid=1685477991&s=electronics&sprefix=135%22%2Celectronics%2C122&sr=1-19-spons&ufe=app_do%3Aamzn1.fos.ac2169a1-b668-44b9-8bd0-5ec63b24bcb5&spLa=ZW5jcnlwdGVkUXVhbGlmaWVyPUEzVVBOMDcyRjlIS1NUJmVuY3J5cHRlZElkPUEwNDM4MDE0MU0wTlRCWjhGQVozUCZlbmNyeXB0ZWRBZElkPUEwMTQyOTY1UkJJN0M5RjMxSEpOJndpZGdldE5hbWU9c3BfYnRmJmFjdGlvbj1jbGlja1JlZGlyZWN0JmRvTm90TG9nQ2xpY2s9dHJ1ZQ&th=1
2023.05.30 22:53 SesshamoNekodearuzo Russia says drones lightly damage Moscow buildings before dawn, while Ukraine's capital bombarded
 | submitted by SesshamoNekodearuzo to what_couldve_been_if [link] [comments] |
2023.05.30 22:53 SubstantialStrike136 [USA-PA] [H] CUSTOM BUILT PC [W] PAYPAL
https://imgur.com/a/WV9DImK
AMD RYZEN 5 2600 SIX CORE PROCESSOR 16GB RAM x64 BIT PROCESSOR WINDOWS 10 PRO
gaming pc i built about a year ago so still fairly new, only used for light gaming and web browsing- it's time it finds a home that'll use it to its capacity and not just for youtube lmao.
spent a grand give or take building it, so i'm looking for about $600-700.
The LEDS come with a remote so you can change color. I also posted a monitor on here before and it's still available, they can come in a bundle if you need.
Questions please PM!
submitted by SubstantialStrike136 to hardwareswap [link] [comments]
AMD RYZEN 5 2600 SIX CORE PROCESSOR 16GB RAM x64 BIT PROCESSOR WINDOWS 10 PRO
gaming pc i built about a year ago so still fairly new, only used for light gaming and web browsing- it's time it finds a home that'll use it to its capacity and not just for youtube lmao.
spent a grand give or take building it, so i'm looking for about $600-700.
The LEDS come with a remote so you can change color. I also posted a monitor on here before and it's still available, they can come in a bundle if you need.
Questions please PM!
2023.05.30 22:51 Archives-H I volunteered for an expedition to get off death row. I never should have entered the Sea of Green.
Before I begin my story I must maintain that my sentence to death was a wrong and vile thing to do. I maintain that I am not a killer. I did not kill the schoolchildren the authorities decided to hang me for.
My sentence to death, I must maintain, is a huge misunderstanding. There must be forces out there against me, who conspired to put me in prison for this very experiment, this accursed expedition.
I am not deranged. I am not insane.
The man in the odd multicolored sweater paid me a visit a week before my scheduled execution date. “You are the former schoolteacher Chet Adami?” he asked, polite, offering me a plastic cup of coffee.
I nodded, taking a sip. “I didn’t kill those kids,” I reiterated, for about the thousandth time. “Are you the uh, priest guy? That comes before-”
He shook his head and waved away the guards. “My name is Canopy Hydrangea,” he introduced, extending a hand. I shook it. “I understand you may not be guilty, despite what the state believes.”
I nodded. “Finally, someone who-”
He cut me off. “I’m not interested in your story. Whether you die or not is of no consequence to the people I represent,” he continued. “But I am here to offer you a deal. There’s a place the people I represent need exploring, and I need volunteers.”
He produced a sheet of paper and a pen. “This agreement,” he clasped it into my hands, “has you join a team of expendable, uh, volunteers such as yourself on this expedition. You get in, get the things we need, and get out- and you’re free for life.”
This was better than dying in prison.
I asked him what place this was that I’d be sent to. He told me I had to sign the form first. “I’ll do it, then,” I cheered, signing the document.
He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll even give you a whole new identity,” he offered. And with that, he seized the document away from me and left the building.
Within hours I was blindfolded, sedated, and transported. When I awoke I was strapped to a bed in a helicopter, with four others beside me, all beginning to wake up.
The man who’d offered me the deal was there too, sucking on a lollipop while rearranging documents and photographs.
These images, I assumed, was the place they wanted us to explore. They were mostly all aerial photos, a sea of endless green and the occasional bird. And yet, there was more- images of impossible landscapes, dreamlike beings.
“Ah, you guys are awake!” he clapped once, and walked over.
The next few moments were a flash as he re-injected us with some sort of blue, wriggling substance. It was cold, and I swear it pulsed inside my arm.
Then we had landed, and the group was quickly taken inside a compound. We were freed and sat down in some sort of meeting room. More people were inside.
A blue haired lady joined the man.
“Welcome, volunteers,” he announced, pointing to a projector. “You are all, save for one, prisoners on death row,” he reminded. “This offer today is simple- you enter the forest, travel to an outpost we have recently lost contact with,” he turned on the projector, displayed a bright red cylinder labeled ‘SYSTEM RECORDER-A32’, “and recover this data module.”
The woman spoke next. “Easy, right?” she counted us. “We’ll provide maps,” she gestured to tablets. “But this forest is different.”
They proceeded to explain the reason they need ‘volunteers’ for the assignment then.
We were on an island somewhere in the Java Sea. The island had a massive forest in the center, one that at first glance seemed as normal as ever. This changed when an international mining company sent in a team of geologists to determine if there was anything of note beyond the forest.
This team never returned.
Nor did a second team, armed with weapons. Or an environmentalist group that ventured in to document new species. So then the organization our recruiters had come from entered the forest.
We were on the outskirts of the forest, at a place they were calling Ake Base.
Over the past month, they had begun to map the forest and determine why so many hadn’t returned. The reason was illogical- the forest was bigger than the island itself.
Drones that ventured in should have come out the other side- yet remained inside the forest, encountering bizarre phenomena and creatures undocumented.
Every so often, the forest would slope downwards, revealing a new layer with new and distinct ecosystems.
“Recently though,” Canopy concluded, “we’ve lost contact with several outposts in the third layer to eighth layers.” He changed the slide to one of the lost outposts, standing alone amidst a vibrant, alien forest. “You enter the forest, get to your team’s assigned outpost, get back out with the data and you’ll be set for life.”
“Does anyone choose to rescind their agreement?” the woman asked. “It’s either death, or this, and frankly, your chances here aren’t that better.”
There were some who raised their hands. “Hell no!” a man shouted. “I’m goin’ back to life!” The woman had them taken away. We heard gunfire outdoors. No life row for him.
Whoever they were- they were serious about this.
They started to call out names and assign teams.
My team, was small, four of us. There was a mercenary named Leo who kept talking about the food the organization had brought us. He seemed pleasant, charismatic, and I almost forgot he was a criminal.
There was a scientist called Anya who, as she joked, was ‘serving infinite life sentences’ for crimes against humanity. She was given the codes and a booklet of things to watch out for in what they called the ‘Sea of Green’.
Then there was Gail. She was quieter than the three of us, and had an almost eerie vibe to her. She didn’t tell us what she’d done to get here, but she was there nonetheless.
Thankfully, we were given the closest- and safest outpost. A little place in Layer Three, marked by the map as only a few hours walk away.
We set off the next day.
The forest, in the beginning, seemed to almost invite us in. The birds chirped and danced, unafraid of mankind. We even fed them the nuts we’d been given as breakfast rations, which they seemed to enjoy.
About an hour in, things changed. The light from the sun barely pierced the canopy, and at times, we had to utilize our flashlights to see what was in front of us. Leo took the lead, hacking away at the branch and vine in front of us.
The forest was starting to look like a jungle- and yet, as we traversed it never seemed to choose which one it wanted to be.
“Wait!” Anya hissed, as we crossed a stream that seemed oddly familiar. She read from the booklet, then to the map on tablets we’d been given. “We’ve made a circle.”
Leo shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he insisted. “I don’t remember turning.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, catching up from behind.
Anya shared the booklet. “It’s one first phenomena researchers encounter,” she explained. “This place plays tricks on us- we need to follow the stream.”
“But then,” Gail pointed out, “we’d be going in the wrong direction.”
“Trust the book,” Anya concluded. We followed the stream then, and the path started to grow denser, as if the forest hated us for traveling further. But the path was right, and the forest changed as we journeyed.
An hour later the forest had changed. It had sloped downwards a bit, inviting us to the second layer of the maze. The trees seemed higher, and the light was now gone completely.
This was when we started to hear it. Click-click.
“What was that?” I asked, turning. Click-click.
Anya rushed through the book. “It’s not documented.”
Click-click. And then we saw lights in the distance, lights that as we continued walking, were revealed to us as bulbous fruit on the trees that glowed an eerie electric blue.
Click-click. “You sure it’s not in that book?” Leo questioned, switching his machete out for a gun. Click-click.
The clicks were getting louder, each one sending a jolt of uneasy fear down my spine. We moved closer together now, fearing the unknown that were in these- A bush in front of us rustled. Leo aimed his weapon.
A deer- no, something like a deer popped out, gently squawking. It was… wrong in every sense, but it seemed more occupied in chewing a flower than us.
The small creature had the antlers of a deer, yes, but it also had the face of an old man. Not to mention six fists full of thumbs at the end of its legs. It inspected a glowing fruit with it’s odd thumbs.
“Ew,” Gail commented, disgusted. “What the hell is that?”
Anya didn’t have time to look for answers before a black, insectine limp shot out of one of the bulbous fruits and impaled the deer-thing. It screamed an all too human scream and struggled.
We backed away- and by then, the noise was overwhelming. Click-clickClick-clickClick-clickClickclickClickclickClick-clickClick-click. They erupted from every single one of the bulbous fruits, and things began to pour out of them.
The limbs, see, were attached to a head. The a simple sphere that opened into buzzsaws of teeth that grotesquely clicked as they opened. The face-deer only screamed as the clicking creatures devoured it.
“Run!” Leo reminded, shooting as some started to near us. “Run!”
That shook us out, and we ran, terror in our very veins. They seemed more interested in the fallen deer than us- but we still ran until we could no longer.
Actually, it was until I fell off and entered the third layer.
A weight appeared on my chest and I fought it off, thinking I was about to die- but the soft, furry creature atop me jumped off. It wasn’t one of the clicking monsters.
And then I realized the third layer was bright. The trees themselves were glowing now, not the insect fruits of before. And there were a whole host of new, bizarre creatures.
The thing I’d pushed off was some sort of rabbit, covered in glowing blue stripes. If layer two had been a forest of darkness this was it’s very opposite.
In the skies there were ribbons of glowing creatures- thin kites on an unseen wind. The trees were alive with all sorts of furried friends, darting here and there and eating odd colored berries that didn’t seem real.
Anya pointed and spoke, “Look!” It was the outpost, in ruins.
“But what attacked it?” Gail murmured, as we walked over.
We entered through a hole in the wall. The place was oddly peaceful, calming, now home to bioluminescent little ants that dotted the place. Occasionally, one or two of the face-deer would appear, licking the dots up with twin tongues that emerged from it’s too-human face.
“Cute,” Leo joked, picking one up and stroking it. It screamed back at him, chilling and he dropped it. “Never doing that again.”
The place was… too peaceful. And- “what happened to their bodies?” I posited. “If they were attacked- where’s their blood? Their corpses?”
Anya shrugged. “It is odd- perhaps they got devoured.” She gestured to the many oddities around us. “But you’re right, there should be bones, at least.”
This was when we heard the screaming. And all of a sudden every single creature retreated away, disappearing from view, save for the tiny ants inside with us. The screaming was a cacophony of voices, realer than the ones we’d heard from the face-deer.
“I think we need to go,” Leo whispered, holding out the red ‘data module’ in his hands. “Now.”
The screaming got ever closer, and the trees in front of the outpost, beyond a window, started to shake. “I concur.”
We were backing away when we heard the squelching of something loud and heavy. Turning around, we saw the screaming creature we’d heard. It was massive, fleshy, and filled with tiny gaping holes, some filled with eyes, all rising, breathing as one.
I nearly threw up. But that was for a different reason.
The holes were one thing. But the screaming, severed bodies of dozens of people attached the the eye-full monster was another. They screamed and screamed, their bodies unneatly joined and sown into the creature.
It sniffed the air and walked over to the glass, looking in as we hid. “What is it?” I squealed. “What the hell is that?”
The face of a victim in military clothes appeared at the window, screaming, face slowly popping, skin repairing and being digested all at once. Anya flipped through the pages. “They called it a Fleshweave. It absorbs bodies and eats them that way.”
That would explain the lack of bodies we’d seen.
The window shattered- and the thing began to force itself on it, flesh turning to churned cylinders through the window. The bodies, crushed further, screamed some more.
So we ran as the beasts fell into the room with a plop. And despite it’s heavy, gluttonous form it charged forwards, faster than it looked.
Out the outpost we went. I felt a meaty hand hit me and then I fell. It stalked towards me, but a gunshot from Leo burst it’s pus-ridden hand, covered my in grotesque, viscous liquid.
I picked myself up and ran from the screaming thing, up the steep slope and climbing onto the second layer.
I fell again, but Anya caught me, helping me up.
Leo did the same for Gail- but she slipped and fell back into the third layer. The thing approached her, all of it’s pulsing eyes upon her. “Help me!” she bellowed. “Don’t leave me-”
Leo prepared to jump down- but it was too late. The Fleshweave simply picked her up and it opened it’s skin, forging her into her body- er, her top half,- it severed the rest.
“Go!” I snapped, dragging the mercenary to action. The creature behind us lifted itself onto the dark forest and continued to follow.
Gail, merged with the other unfortunate bodies, screamed. I almost stopped in terror from the sound, but flight-or-fight forced me to continue.
Click-click. We found ourselves back in the center of the abode with the insect fruit. And the insects were clearly attracted to the stench of decay the monster emanated. Limbs emerged, and the face-beetles jumped up and swarmed the creatures.
I don't know if the creature was killed by it. I only remember Gail’s face as the insects started to pick her body- and so many others like her- apart.
The way out seemed harder than going in, but we made it. We survived. We reached the outpost and handed our data module to the man who’d offered us the deal. “Impressive,” he congratulated. “You’re the first team back.”
“I want out now,” I panted. “Back to real life.”
He patted me on the shoulder and gave me a sad smile. “According to the world you’ve already died by suicide in your cell,” he informed. “See, there’s a way the people I work for have operated so cleanly for the past few centuries.” He paused and took a step back. “We can’t afford loose ends, see, and you’ve shown us you have the guts to survive Bandai La- er, the Sea of Green.”
I took a step back, panicking. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “We can’t give you a new life and risk exposing our operation here,” he explained. “And we still need ah, expendable people to lead us to whatever’s in the center of the island.” He handed me a can of soda. “Welcome to your new life. The Company really values your dedication as a treasured employee.”
But I don’t want this. I was promised freedom. And they can’t keep me from exposing them- I’ve typed this up and Anya did something to the tablet so I can receive and post things online.
I’m not sure if this’ll work. But if it is: I’m on an island somewhere in the Java Sea. There’s a forest that goes on forever and I’m being held as some sort of explorer by some Company.
Find me. Before I die.
submitted by Archives-H to nosleep [link] [comments]
My sentence to death, I must maintain, is a huge misunderstanding. There must be forces out there against me, who conspired to put me in prison for this very experiment, this accursed expedition.
I am not deranged. I am not insane.
The man in the odd multicolored sweater paid me a visit a week before my scheduled execution date. “You are the former schoolteacher Chet Adami?” he asked, polite, offering me a plastic cup of coffee.
I nodded, taking a sip. “I didn’t kill those kids,” I reiterated, for about the thousandth time. “Are you the uh, priest guy? That comes before-”
He shook his head and waved away the guards. “My name is Canopy Hydrangea,” he introduced, extending a hand. I shook it. “I understand you may not be guilty, despite what the state believes.”
I nodded. “Finally, someone who-”
He cut me off. “I’m not interested in your story. Whether you die or not is of no consequence to the people I represent,” he continued. “But I am here to offer you a deal. There’s a place the people I represent need exploring, and I need volunteers.”
He produced a sheet of paper and a pen. “This agreement,” he clasped it into my hands, “has you join a team of expendable, uh, volunteers such as yourself on this expedition. You get in, get the things we need, and get out- and you’re free for life.”
This was better than dying in prison.
I asked him what place this was that I’d be sent to. He told me I had to sign the form first. “I’ll do it, then,” I cheered, signing the document.
He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll even give you a whole new identity,” he offered. And with that, he seized the document away from me and left the building.
Within hours I was blindfolded, sedated, and transported. When I awoke I was strapped to a bed in a helicopter, with four others beside me, all beginning to wake up.
The man who’d offered me the deal was there too, sucking on a lollipop while rearranging documents and photographs.
These images, I assumed, was the place they wanted us to explore. They were mostly all aerial photos, a sea of endless green and the occasional bird. And yet, there was more- images of impossible landscapes, dreamlike beings.
“Ah, you guys are awake!” he clapped once, and walked over.
The next few moments were a flash as he re-injected us with some sort of blue, wriggling substance. It was cold, and I swear it pulsed inside my arm.
Then we had landed, and the group was quickly taken inside a compound. We were freed and sat down in some sort of meeting room. More people were inside.
A blue haired lady joined the man.
“Welcome, volunteers,” he announced, pointing to a projector. “You are all, save for one, prisoners on death row,” he reminded. “This offer today is simple- you enter the forest, travel to an outpost we have recently lost contact with,” he turned on the projector, displayed a bright red cylinder labeled ‘SYSTEM RECORDER-A32’, “and recover this data module.”
The woman spoke next. “Easy, right?” she counted us. “We’ll provide maps,” she gestured to tablets. “But this forest is different.”
They proceeded to explain the reason they need ‘volunteers’ for the assignment then.
We were on an island somewhere in the Java Sea. The island had a massive forest in the center, one that at first glance seemed as normal as ever. This changed when an international mining company sent in a team of geologists to determine if there was anything of note beyond the forest.
This team never returned.
Nor did a second team, armed with weapons. Or an environmentalist group that ventured in to document new species. So then the organization our recruiters had come from entered the forest.
We were on the outskirts of the forest, at a place they were calling Ake Base.
Over the past month, they had begun to map the forest and determine why so many hadn’t returned. The reason was illogical- the forest was bigger than the island itself.
Drones that ventured in should have come out the other side- yet remained inside the forest, encountering bizarre phenomena and creatures undocumented.
Every so often, the forest would slope downwards, revealing a new layer with new and distinct ecosystems.
“Recently though,” Canopy concluded, “we’ve lost contact with several outposts in the third layer to eighth layers.” He changed the slide to one of the lost outposts, standing alone amidst a vibrant, alien forest. “You enter the forest, get to your team’s assigned outpost, get back out with the data and you’ll be set for life.”
“Does anyone choose to rescind their agreement?” the woman asked. “It’s either death, or this, and frankly, your chances here aren’t that better.”
There were some who raised their hands. “Hell no!” a man shouted. “I’m goin’ back to life!” The woman had them taken away. We heard gunfire outdoors. No life row for him.
Whoever they were- they were serious about this.
They started to call out names and assign teams.
My team, was small, four of us. There was a mercenary named Leo who kept talking about the food the organization had brought us. He seemed pleasant, charismatic, and I almost forgot he was a criminal.
There was a scientist called Anya who, as she joked, was ‘serving infinite life sentences’ for crimes against humanity. She was given the codes and a booklet of things to watch out for in what they called the ‘Sea of Green’.
Then there was Gail. She was quieter than the three of us, and had an almost eerie vibe to her. She didn’t tell us what she’d done to get here, but she was there nonetheless.
Thankfully, we were given the closest- and safest outpost. A little place in Layer Three, marked by the map as only a few hours walk away.
We set off the next day.
The forest, in the beginning, seemed to almost invite us in. The birds chirped and danced, unafraid of mankind. We even fed them the nuts we’d been given as breakfast rations, which they seemed to enjoy.
About an hour in, things changed. The light from the sun barely pierced the canopy, and at times, we had to utilize our flashlights to see what was in front of us. Leo took the lead, hacking away at the branch and vine in front of us.
The forest was starting to look like a jungle- and yet, as we traversed it never seemed to choose which one it wanted to be.
“Wait!” Anya hissed, as we crossed a stream that seemed oddly familiar. She read from the booklet, then to the map on tablets we’d been given. “We’ve made a circle.”
Leo shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he insisted. “I don’t remember turning.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, catching up from behind.
Anya shared the booklet. “It’s one first phenomena researchers encounter,” she explained. “This place plays tricks on us- we need to follow the stream.”
“But then,” Gail pointed out, “we’d be going in the wrong direction.”
“Trust the book,” Anya concluded. We followed the stream then, and the path started to grow denser, as if the forest hated us for traveling further. But the path was right, and the forest changed as we journeyed.
An hour later the forest had changed. It had sloped downwards a bit, inviting us to the second layer of the maze. The trees seemed higher, and the light was now gone completely.
This was when we started to hear it. Click-click.
“What was that?” I asked, turning. Click-click.
Anya rushed through the book. “It’s not documented.”
Click-click. And then we saw lights in the distance, lights that as we continued walking, were revealed to us as bulbous fruit on the trees that glowed an eerie electric blue.
Click-click. “You sure it’s not in that book?” Leo questioned, switching his machete out for a gun. Click-click.
The clicks were getting louder, each one sending a jolt of uneasy fear down my spine. We moved closer together now, fearing the unknown that were in these- A bush in front of us rustled. Leo aimed his weapon.
A deer- no, something like a deer popped out, gently squawking. It was… wrong in every sense, but it seemed more occupied in chewing a flower than us.
The small creature had the antlers of a deer, yes, but it also had the face of an old man. Not to mention six fists full of thumbs at the end of its legs. It inspected a glowing fruit with it’s odd thumbs.
“Ew,” Gail commented, disgusted. “What the hell is that?”
Anya didn’t have time to look for answers before a black, insectine limp shot out of one of the bulbous fruits and impaled the deer-thing. It screamed an all too human scream and struggled.
We backed away- and by then, the noise was overwhelming. Click-clickClick-clickClick-clickClickclickClickclickClick-clickClick-click. They erupted from every single one of the bulbous fruits, and things began to pour out of them.
The limbs, see, were attached to a head. The a simple sphere that opened into buzzsaws of teeth that grotesquely clicked as they opened. The face-deer only screamed as the clicking creatures devoured it.
“Run!” Leo reminded, shooting as some started to near us. “Run!”
That shook us out, and we ran, terror in our very veins. They seemed more interested in the fallen deer than us- but we still ran until we could no longer.
Actually, it was until I fell off and entered the third layer.
A weight appeared on my chest and I fought it off, thinking I was about to die- but the soft, furry creature atop me jumped off. It wasn’t one of the clicking monsters.
And then I realized the third layer was bright. The trees themselves were glowing now, not the insect fruits of before. And there were a whole host of new, bizarre creatures.
The thing I’d pushed off was some sort of rabbit, covered in glowing blue stripes. If layer two had been a forest of darkness this was it’s very opposite.
In the skies there were ribbons of glowing creatures- thin kites on an unseen wind. The trees were alive with all sorts of furried friends, darting here and there and eating odd colored berries that didn’t seem real.
Anya pointed and spoke, “Look!” It was the outpost, in ruins.
“But what attacked it?” Gail murmured, as we walked over.
We entered through a hole in the wall. The place was oddly peaceful, calming, now home to bioluminescent little ants that dotted the place. Occasionally, one or two of the face-deer would appear, licking the dots up with twin tongues that emerged from it’s too-human face.
“Cute,” Leo joked, picking one up and stroking it. It screamed back at him, chilling and he dropped it. “Never doing that again.”
The place was… too peaceful. And- “what happened to their bodies?” I posited. “If they were attacked- where’s their blood? Their corpses?”
Anya shrugged. “It is odd- perhaps they got devoured.” She gestured to the many oddities around us. “But you’re right, there should be bones, at least.”
This was when we heard the screaming. And all of a sudden every single creature retreated away, disappearing from view, save for the tiny ants inside with us. The screaming was a cacophony of voices, realer than the ones we’d heard from the face-deer.
“I think we need to go,” Leo whispered, holding out the red ‘data module’ in his hands. “Now.”
The screaming got ever closer, and the trees in front of the outpost, beyond a window, started to shake. “I concur.”
We were backing away when we heard the squelching of something loud and heavy. Turning around, we saw the screaming creature we’d heard. It was massive, fleshy, and filled with tiny gaping holes, some filled with eyes, all rising, breathing as one.
I nearly threw up. But that was for a different reason.
The holes were one thing. But the screaming, severed bodies of dozens of people attached the the eye-full monster was another. They screamed and screamed, their bodies unneatly joined and sown into the creature.
It sniffed the air and walked over to the glass, looking in as we hid. “What is it?” I squealed. “What the hell is that?”
The face of a victim in military clothes appeared at the window, screaming, face slowly popping, skin repairing and being digested all at once. Anya flipped through the pages. “They called it a Fleshweave. It absorbs bodies and eats them that way.”
That would explain the lack of bodies we’d seen.
The window shattered- and the thing began to force itself on it, flesh turning to churned cylinders through the window. The bodies, crushed further, screamed some more.
So we ran as the beasts fell into the room with a plop. And despite it’s heavy, gluttonous form it charged forwards, faster than it looked.
Out the outpost we went. I felt a meaty hand hit me and then I fell. It stalked towards me, but a gunshot from Leo burst it’s pus-ridden hand, covered my in grotesque, viscous liquid.
I picked myself up and ran from the screaming thing, up the steep slope and climbing onto the second layer.
I fell again, but Anya caught me, helping me up.
Leo did the same for Gail- but she slipped and fell back into the third layer. The thing approached her, all of it’s pulsing eyes upon her. “Help me!” she bellowed. “Don’t leave me-”
Leo prepared to jump down- but it was too late. The Fleshweave simply picked her up and it opened it’s skin, forging her into her body- er, her top half,- it severed the rest.
“Go!” I snapped, dragging the mercenary to action. The creature behind us lifted itself onto the dark forest and continued to follow.
Gail, merged with the other unfortunate bodies, screamed. I almost stopped in terror from the sound, but flight-or-fight forced me to continue.
Click-click. We found ourselves back in the center of the abode with the insect fruit. And the insects were clearly attracted to the stench of decay the monster emanated. Limbs emerged, and the face-beetles jumped up and swarmed the creatures.
I don't know if the creature was killed by it. I only remember Gail’s face as the insects started to pick her body- and so many others like her- apart.
The way out seemed harder than going in, but we made it. We survived. We reached the outpost and handed our data module to the man who’d offered us the deal. “Impressive,” he congratulated. “You’re the first team back.”
“I want out now,” I panted. “Back to real life.”
He patted me on the shoulder and gave me a sad smile. “According to the world you’ve already died by suicide in your cell,” he informed. “See, there’s a way the people I work for have operated so cleanly for the past few centuries.” He paused and took a step back. “We can’t afford loose ends, see, and you’ve shown us you have the guts to survive Bandai La- er, the Sea of Green.”
I took a step back, panicking. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “We can’t give you a new life and risk exposing our operation here,” he explained. “And we still need ah, expendable people to lead us to whatever’s in the center of the island.” He handed me a can of soda. “Welcome to your new life. The Company really values your dedication as a treasured employee.”
But I don’t want this. I was promised freedom. And they can’t keep me from exposing them- I’ve typed this up and Anya did something to the tablet so I can receive and post things online.
I’m not sure if this’ll work. But if it is: I’m on an island somewhere in the Java Sea. There’s a forest that goes on forever and I’m being held as some sort of explorer by some Company.
Find me. Before I die.
2023.05.30 22:49 SeizureSucks Documenting SEEG Experiance
I am a mom documenting SEEG experiance on behalf of my 15 year old son. Hoping this will provide insight and aid other families with similar concerns.
Day 1 - Checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM. Anesthesiologist met and asked few questions to clarify allergies and other pre existing conditions - which are negative for us.
Our Neuro surgeon met with us to explain what will be done . 2 hrs of prep work involving shaving my son hair, mapping the electrode position using the robotic tool to insert them precisely . She informed most electrodes will be in his left side with 1 in the center. A CT scan will be done post op to ensure no hemorrhage, fluid build up etc.
They put IV and shortly a general anesthesia to make him feel light headed . My son asked few questions and was slowly taken to the operating room and while the parents were sent to the waiting area.
Exactly after 2 hrs, we got a text to confirm they are ready for surgery. We received notifications every hr from them updating on the progress. It took 3 hrs for the surgery to be completed.
Our surgeon and epileptologist who recommended this procedure met with us to explain next steps. Total 8 electrodes were inserted , 7 in the left frontal lobe and 1 in the center. He will not be given seizure meds from tonight. He will be given steroid and antibiotics which will be tappered off in the next few days to ensure there is no infection. Pain meds will be given on a need basis.
We were taken to meet him in PACU, when my son was able to hear and talk but was very tired due to meds. He drank apple juice and vitals were monitored. He mentioned abt head pain… rated it at a level 4 in the 1 to 10 range. We were taken into the EMU unit in the next 15 minutes where we will be spending the next few days hoping and praying to get seizures so they can capture info.
Our neurologist visited us and made him move hands, legs, eye movement, verified pain levels and informed that for tonight he can rest as usual since he will be on meds effect. Starting tomorrow he will have more tests to baseline his cognitive skills - reading , math etc along with flashing lights and other things to see if they would cause seizures.
He was allowed to eat anything he wants, however he was too tired to eat, had few bites of rice and 1 small ice cream . He does wake up for checkups and goes right back to sleep.
Hope this helps. I will update this thread as we go. Please keep my son in your prayers and hope that he gets the seizures soon enough so we can go home and feel better and hopefully get some positive info on possibly attain seizure freedom.
Note : cause of his seizures is focal cortical dysplasia in the left suculus close to his speech area. Docs want to identify the seizure onset zone and get additional j fo to provide further recommendations .
submitted by SeizureSucks to epilepsyfamily [link] [comments]
Day 1 - Checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM. Anesthesiologist met and asked few questions to clarify allergies and other pre existing conditions - which are negative for us.
Our Neuro surgeon met with us to explain what will be done . 2 hrs of prep work involving shaving my son hair, mapping the electrode position using the robotic tool to insert them precisely . She informed most electrodes will be in his left side with 1 in the center. A CT scan will be done post op to ensure no hemorrhage, fluid build up etc.
They put IV and shortly a general anesthesia to make him feel light headed . My son asked few questions and was slowly taken to the operating room and while the parents were sent to the waiting area.
Exactly after 2 hrs, we got a text to confirm they are ready for surgery. We received notifications every hr from them updating on the progress. It took 3 hrs for the surgery to be completed.
Our surgeon and epileptologist who recommended this procedure met with us to explain next steps. Total 8 electrodes were inserted , 7 in the left frontal lobe and 1 in the center. He will not be given seizure meds from tonight. He will be given steroid and antibiotics which will be tappered off in the next few days to ensure there is no infection. Pain meds will be given on a need basis.
We were taken to meet him in PACU, when my son was able to hear and talk but was very tired due to meds. He drank apple juice and vitals were monitored. He mentioned abt head pain… rated it at a level 4 in the 1 to 10 range. We were taken into the EMU unit in the next 15 minutes where we will be spending the next few days hoping and praying to get seizures so they can capture info.
Our neurologist visited us and made him move hands, legs, eye movement, verified pain levels and informed that for tonight he can rest as usual since he will be on meds effect. Starting tomorrow he will have more tests to baseline his cognitive skills - reading , math etc along with flashing lights and other things to see if they would cause seizures.
He was allowed to eat anything he wants, however he was too tired to eat, had few bites of rice and 1 small ice cream . He does wake up for checkups and goes right back to sleep.
Hope this helps. I will update this thread as we go. Please keep my son in your prayers and hope that he gets the seizures soon enough so we can go home and feel better and hopefully get some positive info on possibly attain seizure freedom.
Note : cause of his seizures is focal cortical dysplasia in the left suculus close to his speech area. Docs want to identify the seizure onset zone and get additional j fo to provide further recommendations .
2023.05.30 22:48 GumblerHere Horror Hospital Experiments
In the eerie stillness of a cold October night, the moon cast long shadows upon the desolate landscape surrounding an abandoned hospital. Rumors of its dark past had circulated among the townsfolk, warning of the horrors that had transpired within its decaying walls. However, driven by a morbid curiosity, a young girl named Emily ventured into the forsaken building, oblivious to the terror that awaited her.
As she stepped through the creaking doors, the stale scent of decay permeated the air, sending a shiver down her spine. Flickering lights cast an unsettling glow on the dilapidated hallways, where remnants of medical equipment lay strewn about like forgotten relics. Emily's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through her veins.
As she cautiously explored the labyrinthine corridors, the echoing sounds of her footsteps seemed to be drowned out by an unnerving silence. Each door she passed exuded an ominous aura, as if guarding the secrets of the hospital's sinister past. With trembling hands, she reached out to push open one of the doors, revealing a room filled with jars—rows upon rows of jars.
Inside these glass prisons, the moonlight revealed an unsettling sight. Floating in murky liquid were human organs, pickled in their grotesque forms. The labels on the jars were faded, but Emily could still make out words like "heart," "brain," and "eyes." A wave of nausea washed over her, threatening to consume her fragile courage.
In her exploration, Emily stumbled upon a hidden room, concealed behind a crumbling wall. As she entered, the foul stench of decay grew stronger. The flickering lightbulb revealed a macabre sight—a makeshift operating theater, a place where unspeakable acts had been committed. Bloodstains adorned the cold, metallic table, and rusted surgical tools lay scattered haphazardly.
Terrified yet transfixed, Emily's eyes were drawn to a row of journals stacked upon a rotting shelf. The pages were filled with the deranged ramblings of disturbed minds. They chronicled grotesque experiments conducted on unwitting patients, describing the doctors' descent into madness and their insatiable hunger for knowledge.
As Emily leafed through the journals, her mind reeled with horror. The doctors had experimented on their victims, seeking to unlock the mysteries of life and death. They had fused limbs together, attempted to create new organs, and conducted unimaginable surgical procedures on the living. The pages spoke of screams that echoed through the night and the haunting pleas for mercy that went unanswered.
With a growing sense of dread, Emily realized that she was not alone in the abandoned hospital. Faint whispers seemed to emanate from the darkened corners, sending chills down her spine. Shadows danced in her periphery, hinting at the presence of something sinister, something that thrived on pain and suffering.
Panic seized Emily as she desperately tried to find an exit, but the hospital seemed to have transformed into a labyrinth of despair. Every hallway led her deeper into the heart of darkness. The whispers grew louder, the shadows more menacing, as if mocking her feeble attempts to escape their clutches.
In a final act of desperation, Emily burst through a door, stumbling into an operating room that remained untouched by time. As she turned to face the door she had just passed through, she froze in terror. The deranged doctors, their faces twisted with madness, stood before her, their bloodstained hands reaching out, eager to continue their grisly experiments.
Screaming, Emily sprinted through the hospital, her heart pounding in her ears. The doctors pursued her relentlessly, their maniacal laughter echoing through the decaying corridors. With every step, her hope waned, until
she found herself trapped in a dead-end room, surrounded by the horrors of her own making.
As the doctors closed in, their scalpels glinting in the dim light, Emily's fate seemed sealed. The abandoned hospital claimed another victim, ensnaring her in its web of nightmares and despair. And on that cold October night, her cries of terror were drowned out by the relentless darkness that consumed her.
submitted by GumblerHere to horrorstories [link] [comments]
As she stepped through the creaking doors, the stale scent of decay permeated the air, sending a shiver down her spine. Flickering lights cast an unsettling glow on the dilapidated hallways, where remnants of medical equipment lay strewn about like forgotten relics. Emily's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through her veins.
As she cautiously explored the labyrinthine corridors, the echoing sounds of her footsteps seemed to be drowned out by an unnerving silence. Each door she passed exuded an ominous aura, as if guarding the secrets of the hospital's sinister past. With trembling hands, she reached out to push open one of the doors, revealing a room filled with jars—rows upon rows of jars.
Inside these glass prisons, the moonlight revealed an unsettling sight. Floating in murky liquid were human organs, pickled in their grotesque forms. The labels on the jars were faded, but Emily could still make out words like "heart," "brain," and "eyes." A wave of nausea washed over her, threatening to consume her fragile courage.
In her exploration, Emily stumbled upon a hidden room, concealed behind a crumbling wall. As she entered, the foul stench of decay grew stronger. The flickering lightbulb revealed a macabre sight—a makeshift operating theater, a place where unspeakable acts had been committed. Bloodstains adorned the cold, metallic table, and rusted surgical tools lay scattered haphazardly.
Terrified yet transfixed, Emily's eyes were drawn to a row of journals stacked upon a rotting shelf. The pages were filled with the deranged ramblings of disturbed minds. They chronicled grotesque experiments conducted on unwitting patients, describing the doctors' descent into madness and their insatiable hunger for knowledge.
As Emily leafed through the journals, her mind reeled with horror. The doctors had experimented on their victims, seeking to unlock the mysteries of life and death. They had fused limbs together, attempted to create new organs, and conducted unimaginable surgical procedures on the living. The pages spoke of screams that echoed through the night and the haunting pleas for mercy that went unanswered.
With a growing sense of dread, Emily realized that she was not alone in the abandoned hospital. Faint whispers seemed to emanate from the darkened corners, sending chills down her spine. Shadows danced in her periphery, hinting at the presence of something sinister, something that thrived on pain and suffering.
Panic seized Emily as she desperately tried to find an exit, but the hospital seemed to have transformed into a labyrinth of despair. Every hallway led her deeper into the heart of darkness. The whispers grew louder, the shadows more menacing, as if mocking her feeble attempts to escape their clutches.
In a final act of desperation, Emily burst through a door, stumbling into an operating room that remained untouched by time. As she turned to face the door she had just passed through, she froze in terror. The deranged doctors, their faces twisted with madness, stood before her, their bloodstained hands reaching out, eager to continue their grisly experiments.
Screaming, Emily sprinted through the hospital, her heart pounding in her ears. The doctors pursued her relentlessly, their maniacal laughter echoing through the decaying corridors. With every step, her hope waned, until
she found herself trapped in a dead-end room, surrounded by the horrors of her own making.
As the doctors closed in, their scalpels glinting in the dim light, Emily's fate seemed sealed. The abandoned hospital claimed another victim, ensnaring her in its web of nightmares and despair. And on that cold October night, her cries of terror were drowned out by the relentless darkness that consumed her.
2023.05.30 22:47 SeizureSucks Documenting SEEG Experiance
I am a mom documenting SEEG experiance on behalf of my 15 year old son. Hoping this will provide insight and aid other families with similar concerns.
Day 1 - Checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM. Anesthesiologist met and asked few questions to clarify allergies and other pre existing conditions - which are negative for us.
Our Neuro surgeon met with us to explain what will be done . 2 hrs of prep work involving shaving my son hair, mapping the electrode position using the robotic tool to insert them precisely . She informed most electrodes will be in his left side with 1 in the center. A CT scan will be done post op to ensure no hemorrhage, fluid build up etc.
They put IV and shortly a general anesthesia to make him feel light headed . My son asked few questions and was slowly taken to the operating room and while the parents were sent to the waiting area.
Exactly after 2 hrs, we got a text to confirm they are ready for surgery. We received notifications every hr from them updating on the progress. It took 3 hrs for the surgery to be completed.
Our surgeon and epileptologist who recommended this procedure met with us to explain next steps. Total 8 electrodes were inserted , 7 in the left frontal lobe and 1 in the center. He will not be given seizure meds from tonight. He will be given steroid and antibiotics which will be tappered off in the next few days to ensure there is no infection. Pain meds will be given on a need basis.
We were taken to meet him in PACU, when my son was able to hear and talk but was very tired due to meds. He drank apple juice and vitals were monitored. He mentioned abt head pain… rated it at a level 4 in the 1 to 10 range. We were taken into the EMU unit in the next 15 minutes where we will be spending the next few days hoping and praying to get seizures so they can capture info.
Our neurologist visited us and made him move hands, legs, eye movement, verified pain levels and informed that for tonight he can rest as usual since he will be on meds effect. Starting tomorrow he will have more tests to baseline his cognitive skills - reading , math etc along with flashing lights and other things to see if they would cause seizures.
He was allowed to eat anything he wants, however he was too tired to eat, had few bites of rice and 1 small ice cream . He does wake up for checkups and goes right back to sleep.
Hope this helps. I will update this thread as we go. Please keep my son in your prayers and hope that he gets the seizures soon enough so we can go home and feel better and hopefully get some positive info on possibly attain seizure freedom.
Note : cause of his seizures is focal cortical dysplasia in the left suculus close to his speech area. Docs want to identify the seizure onset zone and get additional j fo to provide further recommendations .
submitted by SeizureSucks to EpilepsyFriends [link] [comments]
Day 1 - Checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM. Anesthesiologist met and asked few questions to clarify allergies and other pre existing conditions - which are negative for us.
Our Neuro surgeon met with us to explain what will be done . 2 hrs of prep work involving shaving my son hair, mapping the electrode position using the robotic tool to insert them precisely . She informed most electrodes will be in his left side with 1 in the center. A CT scan will be done post op to ensure no hemorrhage, fluid build up etc.
They put IV and shortly a general anesthesia to make him feel light headed . My son asked few questions and was slowly taken to the operating room and while the parents were sent to the waiting area.
Exactly after 2 hrs, we got a text to confirm they are ready for surgery. We received notifications every hr from them updating on the progress. It took 3 hrs for the surgery to be completed.
Our surgeon and epileptologist who recommended this procedure met with us to explain next steps. Total 8 electrodes were inserted , 7 in the left frontal lobe and 1 in the center. He will not be given seizure meds from tonight. He will be given steroid and antibiotics which will be tappered off in the next few days to ensure there is no infection. Pain meds will be given on a need basis.
We were taken to meet him in PACU, when my son was able to hear and talk but was very tired due to meds. He drank apple juice and vitals were monitored. He mentioned abt head pain… rated it at a level 4 in the 1 to 10 range. We were taken into the EMU unit in the next 15 minutes where we will be spending the next few days hoping and praying to get seizures so they can capture info.
Our neurologist visited us and made him move hands, legs, eye movement, verified pain levels and informed that for tonight he can rest as usual since he will be on meds effect. Starting tomorrow he will have more tests to baseline his cognitive skills - reading , math etc along with flashing lights and other things to see if they would cause seizures.
He was allowed to eat anything he wants, however he was too tired to eat, had few bites of rice and 1 small ice cream . He does wake up for checkups and goes right back to sleep.
Hope this helps. I will update this thread as we go. Please keep my son in your prayers and hope that he gets the seizures soon enough so we can go home and feel better and hopefully get some positive info on possibly attain seizure freedom.
Note : cause of his seizures is focal cortical dysplasia in the left suculus close to his speech area. Docs want to identify the seizure onset zone and get additional j fo to provide further recommendations .
2023.05.30 22:47 GumblerHere Horror Hospital Experiments
In the eerie stillness of a cold October night, the moon cast long shadows upon the desolate landscape surrounding an abandoned hospital. Rumors of its dark past had circulated among the townsfolk, warning of the horrors that had transpired within its decaying walls. However, driven by a morbid curiosity, a young girl named Emily ventured into the forsaken building, oblivious to the terror that awaited her.
As she stepped through the creaking doors, the stale scent of decay permeated the air, sending a shiver down her spine. Flickering lights cast an unsettling glow on the dilapidated hallways, where remnants of medical equipment lay strewn about like forgotten relics. Emily's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through her veins.
As she cautiously explored the labyrinthine corridors, the echoing sounds of her footsteps seemed to be drowned out by an unnerving silence. Each door she passed exuded an ominous aura, as if guarding the secrets of the hospital's sinister past. With trembling hands, she reached out to push open one of the doors, revealing a room filled with jars—rows upon rows of jars.
Inside these glass prisons, the moonlight revealed an unsettling sight. Floating in murky liquid were human organs, pickled in their grotesque forms. The labels on the jars were faded, but Emily could still make out words like "heart," "brain," and "eyes." A wave of nausea washed over her, threatening to consume her fragile courage.
In her exploration, Emily stumbled upon a hidden room, concealed behind a crumbling wall. As she entered, the foul stench of decay grew stronger. The flickering lightbulb revealed a macabre sight—a makeshift operating theater, a place where unspeakable acts had been committed. Bloodstains adorned the cold, metallic table, and rusted surgical tools lay scattered haphazardly.
Terrified yet transfixed, Emily's eyes were drawn to a row of journals stacked upon a rotting shelf. The pages were filled with the deranged ramblings of disturbed minds. They chronicled grotesque experiments conducted on unwitting patients, describing the doctors' descent into madness and their insatiable hunger for knowledge.
As Emily leafed through the journals, her mind reeled with horror. The doctors had experimented on their victims, seeking to unlock the mysteries of life and death. They had fused limbs together, attempted to create new organs, and conducted unimaginable surgical procedures on the living. The pages spoke of screams that echoed through the night and the haunting pleas for mercy that went unanswered.
With a growing sense of dread, Emily realized that she was not alone in the abandoned hospital. Faint whispers seemed to emanate from the darkened corners, sending chills down her spine. Shadows danced in her periphery, hinting at the presence of something sinister, something that thrived on pain and suffering.
Panic seized Emily as she desperately tried to find an exit, but the hospital seemed to have transformed into a labyrinth of despair. Every hallway led her deeper into the heart of darkness. The whispers grew louder, the shadows more menacing, as if mocking her feeble attempts to escape their clutches.
In a final act of desperation, Emily burst through a door, stumbling into an operating room that remained untouched by time. As she turned to face the door she had just passed through, she froze in terror. The deranged doctors, their faces twisted with madness, stood before her, their bloodstained hands reaching out, eager to continue their grisly experiments.
Screaming, Emily sprinted through the hospital, her heart pounding in her ears. The doctors pursued her relentlessly, their maniacal laughter echoing through the decaying corridors. With every step, her hope waned, until
she found herself trapped in a dead-end room, surrounded by the horrors of her own making.
As the doctors closed in, their scalpels glinting in the dim light, Emily's fate seemed sealed. The abandoned hospital claimed another victim, ensnaring her in its web of nightmares and despair. And on that cold October night, her cries of terror were drowned out by the relentless darkness that consumed her.
submitted by GumblerHere to Horror_stories [link] [comments]
As she stepped through the creaking doors, the stale scent of decay permeated the air, sending a shiver down her spine. Flickering lights cast an unsettling glow on the dilapidated hallways, where remnants of medical equipment lay strewn about like forgotten relics. Emily's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through her veins.
As she cautiously explored the labyrinthine corridors, the echoing sounds of her footsteps seemed to be drowned out by an unnerving silence. Each door she passed exuded an ominous aura, as if guarding the secrets of the hospital's sinister past. With trembling hands, she reached out to push open one of the doors, revealing a room filled with jars—rows upon rows of jars.
Inside these glass prisons, the moonlight revealed an unsettling sight. Floating in murky liquid were human organs, pickled in their grotesque forms. The labels on the jars were faded, but Emily could still make out words like "heart," "brain," and "eyes." A wave of nausea washed over her, threatening to consume her fragile courage.
In her exploration, Emily stumbled upon a hidden room, concealed behind a crumbling wall. As she entered, the foul stench of decay grew stronger. The flickering lightbulb revealed a macabre sight—a makeshift operating theater, a place where unspeakable acts had been committed. Bloodstains adorned the cold, metallic table, and rusted surgical tools lay scattered haphazardly.
Terrified yet transfixed, Emily's eyes were drawn to a row of journals stacked upon a rotting shelf. The pages were filled with the deranged ramblings of disturbed minds. They chronicled grotesque experiments conducted on unwitting patients, describing the doctors' descent into madness and their insatiable hunger for knowledge.
As Emily leafed through the journals, her mind reeled with horror. The doctors had experimented on their victims, seeking to unlock the mysteries of life and death. They had fused limbs together, attempted to create new organs, and conducted unimaginable surgical procedures on the living. The pages spoke of screams that echoed through the night and the haunting pleas for mercy that went unanswered.
With a growing sense of dread, Emily realized that she was not alone in the abandoned hospital. Faint whispers seemed to emanate from the darkened corners, sending chills down her spine. Shadows danced in her periphery, hinting at the presence of something sinister, something that thrived on pain and suffering.
Panic seized Emily as she desperately tried to find an exit, but the hospital seemed to have transformed into a labyrinth of despair. Every hallway led her deeper into the heart of darkness. The whispers grew louder, the shadows more menacing, as if mocking her feeble attempts to escape their clutches.
In a final act of desperation, Emily burst through a door, stumbling into an operating room that remained untouched by time. As she turned to face the door she had just passed through, she froze in terror. The deranged doctors, their faces twisted with madness, stood before her, their bloodstained hands reaching out, eager to continue their grisly experiments.
Screaming, Emily sprinted through the hospital, her heart pounding in her ears. The doctors pursued her relentlessly, their maniacal laughter echoing through the decaying corridors. With every step, her hope waned, until
she found herself trapped in a dead-end room, surrounded by the horrors of her own making.
As the doctors closed in, their scalpels glinting in the dim light, Emily's fate seemed sealed. The abandoned hospital claimed another victim, ensnaring her in its web of nightmares and despair. And on that cold October night, her cries of terror were drowned out by the relentless darkness that consumed her.
2023.05.30 22:46 Specialist_Lab4223 (Possibly Not) Just Another Light Phone 3 Camera Suggestion
I have been a Light Phone user for over a year, and I really like the device. It is awesome to have a company building such simple, utilitarian, and nonaddicting tech. Here is a suggestion for a light friendly utilitarian camera setup for a possible future Light Phone 3 with an e-ink display.
Consider a future small compact Light Phone with a basic 5 to 10 megapixel rear facing camera. The tool operating the camera could remain very simple if it only displayed a "capture" button and a "photos taken" counter. To take a picture, the user could point the Light Phone in the right direction by holding the phone physically close to their eye and then press the capture button. Once the photo is taken, it could be uploaded to the Light Dashboard for later viewing or downloading. Introducing a future Light Phone camera option would make the phone much more utilitarian. Not including live image view, allowing only photos to be seen or accessed on the dashboard, simplifies the camera usage keeping it more in line with the Light philosophy. The image quality does not need to be great to add immense utility to a future device. To maintain simplicity and remove distraction, the experience would be more similar to shooting film with a point camera and getting to see the pictures later. Optional additional functionality could include having a "camera roll" in the camera tool with the ability to preview small greyscale e-ink versions of the images and send them to contacts in full color. This would be more similar to other phone's functionality.
I'm curious if anyone would be interested in this type of camera on a possible future Light Phone 3, and more generally what the communities thoughts are on this. Thanks!
Edit: Typos/Grammar
submitted by Specialist_Lab4223 to LightPhone [link] [comments]
Consider a future small compact Light Phone with a basic 5 to 10 megapixel rear facing camera. The tool operating the camera could remain very simple if it only displayed a "capture" button and a "photos taken" counter. To take a picture, the user could point the Light Phone in the right direction by holding the phone physically close to their eye and then press the capture button. Once the photo is taken, it could be uploaded to the Light Dashboard for later viewing or downloading. Introducing a future Light Phone camera option would make the phone much more utilitarian. Not including live image view, allowing only photos to be seen or accessed on the dashboard, simplifies the camera usage keeping it more in line with the Light philosophy. The image quality does not need to be great to add immense utility to a future device. To maintain simplicity and remove distraction, the experience would be more similar to shooting film with a point camera and getting to see the pictures later. Optional additional functionality could include having a "camera roll" in the camera tool with the ability to preview small greyscale e-ink versions of the images and send them to contacts in full color. This would be more similar to other phone's functionality.
I'm curious if anyone would be interested in this type of camera on a possible future Light Phone 3, and more generally what the communities thoughts are on this. Thanks!
Edit: Typos/Grammar
2023.05.30 22:46 Mjolnirrr $1500 gaming pc
What will you be doing with this PC? Be as specific as possible, and include specific games or programs you will be using.Browsing and FPS games. Valorant, CSGO, Overwatch, etc. all low graphic settings at 1080p for max fps.
What is your maximum budget before rebates/shipping/taxes?$1800 at the most.
When do you plan on building/buying the PC? Note: beyond a week or two from today means any build you receive will be out of date when you want to buy.Within the next month.
What, exactly, do you need included in the budget? (ToweOS/monitokeyboard/mouse/etc)Tower only.
Which country (and state/province) will you be purchasing the parts in? If you're in US, do you have access to a Microcenter location?MO, USA with a microcenter nearby
If reusing any parts (including monitor(s)/keyboard/mouse/etc), what parts will you be reusing? Brands and models are appreciated.WD Black 500GB
Samsung SSD 860 EVO 250GB
2 x viewsonic XG2402
KBDFans tofu60
Logitech g pro x superlight
Hyperx cloud flight s
Will you be overclocking? If yes, are you interested in overclocking right away, or down the line? CPU and/or GPU?No
Are there any specific features or items you want/need in the build? (ex: SSD, large amount of storage or a RAID setup, CUDA or OpenCL support, etc)room for another ssd possibly
What type of network connectivity do you need? (Wired and/or WiFi) If WiFi is needed and you would like to find the fastest match for your wireless router, please list any specifics.Wired but wireless may be useful.
Do you have any specific case preferences (Size like ITX/microATX/mid-towefull-tower, styles, colors, window or not, LED lighting, etc), or a particular color theme preference for the components?I have been interested in the ASUS Prime AP201 but any micro atx case is fine.
rgb doesnt matter, black is fine
Do you need a copy of Windows included in the budget? If you do need one included, do you have a preference?no
Extra info or particulars:all the air flow
2023.05.30 22:39 SeizureSucks Documenting SEEG Experiance
I am a mom documenting SEEG experiance on behalf of my 15 year old son. Hoping this will provide insight and aid other families with similar concerns.
Day 1 - Checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM. Anesthesiologist met and asked few questions to clarify allergies and other pre existing conditions - which are negative for us.
Our Neuro surgeon met with us to explain what will be done . 2 hrs of prep work involving shaving my son hair, mapping the electrode position using the robotic tool to insert them precisely . She informed most electrodes will be in his left side with 1 in the center. A CT scan will be done post op to ensure no hemorrhage, fluid build up etc.
They put IV and shortly a general anesthesia to make him feel light headed . My son asked few questions and was slowly taken to the operating room and while the parents were sent to the waiting area.
Exactly after 2 hrs, we got a text to confirm they are ready for surgery. We received notifications every hr from them updating on the progress. It took 3 hrs for the surgery to be completed.
Our surgeon and epileptologist who recommended this procedure met with us to explain next steps. Total 8 electrodes were inserted , 7 in the left frontal lobe and 1 in the center. He will not be given seizure meds from tonight. He will be given steroid and antibiotics which will be tappered off in the next few days to ensure there is no infection. Pain meds will be given on a need basis.
We were taken to meet him in PACU, when my son was able to hear and talk but was very tired due to meds. He drank apple juice and vitals were monitored. He mentioned abt head pain… rated it at a level 4 in the 1 to 10 range. We were taken into the EMU unit in the next 15 minutes where we will be spending the next few days hoping and praying to get seizures so they can capture info.
Our neurologist visited us and made him move hands, legs, eye movement, verified pain levels and informed that for tonight he can rest as usual since he will be on meds effect. Starting tomorrow he will have more tests to baseline his cognitive skills - reading , math etc along with flashing lights and other things to see if they would cause seizures.
He was allowed to eat anything he wants, however he was too tired to eat, had few bites of rice and 1 small ice cream . He does wake up for checkups and goes right back to sleep.
Hope this helps. I will update this thread as we go. Please keep my son in your prayers and hope that he gets the seizures soon enough so we can go home and feel better and hopefully get some positive info on possibly attain seizure freedom.
Note : cause of his seizures is focal cortical dysplasia in the left suculus close to his speech area. Docs want to identify the seizure onset zone and get additional j fo to provide further recommendations .
submitted by SeizureSucks to Epilepsy [link] [comments]
Day 1 - Checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM. Anesthesiologist met and asked few questions to clarify allergies and other pre existing conditions - which are negative for us.
Our Neuro surgeon met with us to explain what will be done . 2 hrs of prep work involving shaving my son hair, mapping the electrode position using the robotic tool to insert them precisely . She informed most electrodes will be in his left side with 1 in the center. A CT scan will be done post op to ensure no hemorrhage, fluid build up etc.
They put IV and shortly a general anesthesia to make him feel light headed . My son asked few questions and was slowly taken to the operating room and while the parents were sent to the waiting area.
Exactly after 2 hrs, we got a text to confirm they are ready for surgery. We received notifications every hr from them updating on the progress. It took 3 hrs for the surgery to be completed.
Our surgeon and epileptologist who recommended this procedure met with us to explain next steps. Total 8 electrodes were inserted , 7 in the left frontal lobe and 1 in the center. He will not be given seizure meds from tonight. He will be given steroid and antibiotics which will be tappered off in the next few days to ensure there is no infection. Pain meds will be given on a need basis.
We were taken to meet him in PACU, when my son was able to hear and talk but was very tired due to meds. He drank apple juice and vitals were monitored. He mentioned abt head pain… rated it at a level 4 in the 1 to 10 range. We were taken into the EMU unit in the next 15 minutes where we will be spending the next few days hoping and praying to get seizures so they can capture info.
Our neurologist visited us and made him move hands, legs, eye movement, verified pain levels and informed that for tonight he can rest as usual since he will be on meds effect. Starting tomorrow he will have more tests to baseline his cognitive skills - reading , math etc along with flashing lights and other things to see if they would cause seizures.
He was allowed to eat anything he wants, however he was too tired to eat, had few bites of rice and 1 small ice cream . He does wake up for checkups and goes right back to sleep.
Hope this helps. I will update this thread as we go. Please keep my son in your prayers and hope that he gets the seizures soon enough so we can go home and feel better and hopefully get some positive info on possibly attain seizure freedom.
Note : cause of his seizures is focal cortical dysplasia in the left suculus close to his speech area. Docs want to identify the seizure onset zone and get additional j fo to provide further recommendations .
2023.05.30 22:38 LittleMisfortune06 22 [F4M] Mexico/Anywhere - looking for my happy ending.
Hello there, my name is Gabriela and I'm a 22-year-old Mexican woman who loves cats, books, music, and movies.
My friends would describe me as an introvert who knows how to enjoy the quiet moments instead of always seeking out the right party. I have red hair (although it's naturally dark brown), light brown eyes, I'm 5'5 and I’m an average build with a few curves here and there.
I wouldn’t normally try and find love on a subreddit, but lately I’ve been trying to experience new things and who knows? Something good might come out of this (fingers crossed).
I recently went through a tough breakup and, although it still hurts sometimes, I am ready to try something new and see what life has in store for me.
I'm looking for someone who is funny, with a big heart, and who can communicate effectively. Someone who is mature, tolerant and with whom I can share experiences that can enrich my life. Someone who listens and shows interest in not only me but also my interests and hobbies just as I will with theirs. I’m mainly looking for something long term and serious, I’m not interested in hook ups.
My main activities revolve around reading, spending time with my cats, listening to music, and watching movies, series, and YouTube videos. I'm also open to trying new things as long as they don’t go beyond my comfort zone or put myself in any sort of danger.
Having gone through a difficult relationship, I'm looking for someone who is sincere, knows how to be kind, won't be narcissistic or self-centered and, most importantly, won’t give up on me when things get hard.
If you made it this far and you think you could be my special someone, please reach out to me; I would love to chat and see where this takes us.
Age range: 23-38
submitted by LittleMisfortune06 to r4r [link] [comments]
My friends would describe me as an introvert who knows how to enjoy the quiet moments instead of always seeking out the right party. I have red hair (although it's naturally dark brown), light brown eyes, I'm 5'5 and I’m an average build with a few curves here and there.
I wouldn’t normally try and find love on a subreddit, but lately I’ve been trying to experience new things and who knows? Something good might come out of this (fingers crossed).
I recently went through a tough breakup and, although it still hurts sometimes, I am ready to try something new and see what life has in store for me.
I'm looking for someone who is funny, with a big heart, and who can communicate effectively. Someone who is mature, tolerant and with whom I can share experiences that can enrich my life. Someone who listens and shows interest in not only me but also my interests and hobbies just as I will with theirs. I’m mainly looking for something long term and serious, I’m not interested in hook ups.
My main activities revolve around reading, spending time with my cats, listening to music, and watching movies, series, and YouTube videos. I'm also open to trying new things as long as they don’t go beyond my comfort zone or put myself in any sort of danger.
Having gone through a difficult relationship, I'm looking for someone who is sincere, knows how to be kind, won't be narcissistic or self-centered and, most importantly, won’t give up on me when things get hard.
If you made it this far and you think you could be my special someone, please reach out to me; I would love to chat and see where this takes us.
Age range: 23-38
2023.05.30 22:37 chuckhustmyre [TH] MIRROR IMAGE by Chuck Hustmyre
Sometimes when you look into the mirror, the mirror looks back.
William Bailey's forehead shattered the mirror like a sledgehammer. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was the feeling that he was falling through the mirror. Sub-cranial hematoma, a concussion, maybe even a cracked skull--that had to be the reason for the strange feeling. The mirror was mounted on the wall just to the right of the bar, four feet tall by about three feet wide. As consciousness slipped away, common sense and his strong belief in the rational world told him that he couldn't fall through the mirror. He must have bounced his head off the wall and be falling toward the floor.
It seemed like just a second or two before William's eyes popped open. He lay on his back, on the hard wood floor of Fausto's, with Johnny Davis towering over him. Big Johnny probably wanted to finish him off, maybe kill him, and finally end their twenty-year-old feud. Either Big Johnny Davis and the ceiling lights above him were spinning, or William's head was spinning, but either way something wasn't right.
He raised his head and looked to his left, toward the bar. Except the bar wasn't there. Instead, he was staring at the bathrooms. That didn't make sense. It must be his brain that had gotten spun around. William turned his head and peered over his size-ten wingtips at the busted mirror. The wooden frame and most of the glass still clung to the wall, the rest sat broken on the ground. The bar had to be on his left. He looked again, and still saw the bathrooms. A brain bruise, maybe some fluid pressure building up might be the cause of it.
"Get up!" Big Johnny Davis said.
William looked up at him. Johnny stood behind him, just beyond his shoulders. Perfect place for him to stomp my head into the plank floor. Except Johnny Davis was holding out his hand.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here."
Davis looked scared. It was the first time William Bailey could ever remember Johnny Davis looking scared. William had always been scared of Big Johnny, but Big Johnny wasn't scared of anything or anyone.
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder. William craned his neck to look where Johnny was looking, saw he was staring at the front door like a man terrified something bad was going to come through it. Big Johnny looked down at him again and pumped his hand. "Come on, get up. They'll be here any second."
"Who?" William asked. "Who'll be--" But before he finished, Big Johnny Davis reached down, grabbed him by both arms, and jerked him to his feet.
As he was dragged toward the door by the only man in town who truly hated him, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door. He had to have a concussion, probably severe; that had to be it, because the letters on the sign were backward. It said TUO.
As Johnny Davis pulled him out the door, William heard tires skid on the pavement.
"Where's your car?" Johnny asked.
William twisted away from the big man's grip, then turned to his left. "In the alley." He started to run, still not sure exactly what he was running from.
Behind him, Big John shouted, "The alley's over here."
William kept running but turned his head back toward Johnny. "I know where the alley--"
Something hit him across the midsection and toppled him to the ground. He got his hands up just in time to break his fall and managed to keep his head from slamming into the sidewalk. When he looked up he saw a shopping cart tumbled onto its side.
Once again, William found himself lying flat on his back, this time amid the spilled contents of the cart. It had been filled with junk: paper bags full of dirty clothes, canned food, bags of potato chips, a diamond shaped, orange road sign, and other trash that looked like it had been collected from back alley garbage bins.
The homeless man who'd been pushing the cart was scrawny, and wafer thin. His skin was the color of old shoe leather, and he wore a long gray beard, tangled and matted with food and bits of filth. He was sprawled on the ground next to his cart, half sitting up, staring at William with his bright blue eyes.
Car doors slammed, men shouted.
"You better get going," the homeless man said, as he cocked his head. "The police after you?"
Police!
Before William could assure the old man that the police weren't after him--he was a respected businessman and family man--someone behind him grabbed him under both arms and pulled him to his feet. William turned and found himself staring into the face of Johnny Davis. "The alley's that way," Johnny said, pointing to the other side of Fausto's. With one hand gripping William's jacket, Johnny dashed across the front of the bar toward the alley. The alley--right there, plain as day--on the other side of Fausto's, right where it shouldn't be, where it couldn't be. William had been here a thousand times. As you stepped out of the bar, the alley was on the left, Brockton's Ace Hardware on the right. Now everything was mixed up and in the wrong place.
Johnny Davis turned down the alley, dragging William behind him. After just a few steps, a spotlight flashed in front of them.
"Stop!" a voice commanded. "Get on the ground."
William couldn't see because Johnny was in his way. "Who's that yelling?" he asked.
Big Johnny stopped and William plowed into his back.
"Get on the ground," the voice boomed again.
William poked his head out from behind Johnny Davis's back. The blinding white light was in his face. He couldn't see a thing.
POP! POP! POP!
Gunshots.
Big Johnny sagged, then crashed to his knees. Instinctively, William bent forward and grabbed hold of Johnny. "What's the matter?"
More pops.
Johnny's big hand reached out and shoved William back toward the street. "Back door," he wheezed, then plunged forward onto his face.
William stood alone. Behind the white spotlight he saw blue police lights flashing. He was totally exposed.
POP! POP!
He saw flashes--little yellow spurts of flame--as something tugged at his jacket.
William had said "back door." What back door? Fausto's had a back door, but it didn't lead anywhere except to the open space behind the building used for trash and deliveries. Twenty feet of asphalt between the bar and the back of the building on the next block. William had parked his car at the end of the alley, but the police cars--or whatever they were--had the alley blocked off. The building behind Fausto's also had an alley that ran alongside it, but the owner had closed it off to keep the bums out. He'd put up a gate, padlocked it, and topped it with razor wire. It was a dead end.
Two more pops. Dead end or not it was better than standing here and getting shot. William turned and ran. He burst through the front door of Fausto's, dashed through the bar, past the shattered mirror, hit the back door at a dead run, and was outside behind the bar within seconds.
He could see the tail end of his car sticking out from the corner of the building, but with the cops blocking the alley, his car was useless to him. William glanced across the open space to the alley that ran next to the other building. The gate, the padlock, the razor wire--all still in place. To his right an overflowing garbage dumpster sat beside the back of Fausto's, jammed against the fire ladder.
The fire ladder.
An iron ladder bolted to the cinderblock wall.
William looked up. The top of the ladder was lost in shadow, but he knew it went up two stories to the roof. Last summer, when the toilet had stopped up, he'd come out back to take a leak and had stood behind the dumpster, peeing against the wall like a kid, one hand draped over the bottom rung of the ladder.
He slipped behind the dumpster. The smell made him gag. The bottom of the ladder was four feet from the ground. William reached up as high as he could, grabbed hold of the third rung, then hauled himself up.
Through the partially open back door came the sounds of heavy feet pounding on the hard wood floor of the bar.
Halfway up the ladder, he was exhausted--and scared. Shaking, he white-knuckled the ladder. Being more than ten feet off the ground terrified him. He needed a break, just a second or two to catch his breath. There was enough moonlight so he could see into one of the second story windows. Inside, junk was piled everywhere. Old barstools, a busted jukebox, furniture stacked almost to the ceiling. Years ago, old man Fausto lived on the second floor, but Jake, who'd bought the place from the old man and had decided to keep the name, used it for storage.
Below him, William heard the back door thrown open so hard it banged against the wall. He scrambled up until he reached the top of the ladder, then hoisted himself over the edge of the roof. Down on the ground a voice shouted, "There he is, up there."
Another gunshot. What the hell was going on?
The unmistakable sound of feet--fast feet, in shape feet, boot shod feet--scurrying up the ladder. Standing on the tar and pebble roof, William glanced around for something he could use as a weapon, shocked he was even thinking of such a thing. A five gallon plastic bucket was all there was. It stood upright, filled with rainwater. He picked it up and peered over the edge. A uniformed policeman was three quarters of the way up the ladder. Two more cops were right behind him.
William looked at the heavy bucket in his hands, thought about just dumping the water onto them but knew it wouldn't stop them. There was only one way to stop them, and that was to knock them off the ladder. He thought about warning them, maybe trying to scare them away. But they were cops. You couldn't scare them away.
So why had they shot Johnny Davis, and why were they shooting at him?
The first officer looked up and saw William staring down at him with the bucket in his hands. Their eyes locked for just a second and the cop stopped. In those eyes that stared back at him, William saw an almost maniacal determination that sent a shiver down his spine. The officer held his grip on the ladder with his right hand while his left dropped to the pistol resting in his gleaming leather holster. In one smooth motion he drew his gun and raised it toward William.
William Bailey tossed the bucket down the ladder. A shot rang out an instant before the heavy bucket thudded into the cop's head. Like a gruesome traffic accident happening before his eyes, William couldn't help but watch as the policeman fell, taking his two partners down with him. The last thing William saw before he turned away was a jumbled heap of black uniforms resting on the concrete below the ladder.
* * *
Hiding in the shadow of a telephone booth, thinking. Home. He had to get home. Had to get back to Marge and the kids. Maybe somehow he could explain what had happened. Vincent, his attorney, he would know what to do--maybe--but he was a civil lawyer not a criminal attorney. He wrote contracts and did personal injury on the side; he didn't get people out of jail who'd killed a cop by dropping a bucket of water on his head and knocking him and his buddies off the side of a building.
As the cab he'd been waiting for pulled up, William stepped out from the dark and climbed into the back seat.
The driver turned around. "Where to?"
William pulled the door shut. "Uptown. 1721 Audubon Court."
"Fare's gonna be about fifteen dollars. After dark, I gotta have the money up front."
"What?"
"Company policy." The cabbie shrugged. "A lot of drivers been getting stiffed."
William opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty and handed it across the seat. The driver took it and almost slipped it into his cash box, then took a second look at the bill. His face tightened. "What the hell is this?"
"Huh?"
With the bill stretched between his hands, the cabbie stared at it for a second then looked up at William. "You're either the dumbest counterfeiter who ever lived or you've been had."
"What you are talking about?"
The driver faced the bill toward William but didn't hand it back to him. "It's printed backwards."
William looked at the twenty-dollar bill in the man's hand. It looked like--it was--an almost brand new bill, nothing wrong with it as far as he could tell.
"Get out of my cab," the driver said.
William didn't know what the man was talking about but knew he didn't want to get out. This cab was his only way home. He reached for the twenty. "If you don't like that one I've got another--"
The driver pulled his hands away. "I ain't giving this back. I got to turn it in to the police." He dropped one hand behind his seat back, then came up clutching a pistol, an old German Luger by the looks of it, the muzzle aimed straight at William's face. "In fact, I bet they give me a reward if I bring you in with it."
William jerked the door handle and rolled out into the street. He sprang to his feet and ran, the driver's yells just background noise. Has everyone gone crazy or is it just me?
Home. He had to get home.
* * *
Rain. Driving, relentless rain. William was just two blocks from Fausto's. In two hours, that's as far as he'd gotten--one block an hour. Police cars prowled the neighborhood, shinning spotlights into every nook and cranny, lighting up every shadow. Everyone in Fausto's knew his name. He'd been going there three or four nights a week after work for years. The cabbie had his address. William had given it to him when he told the hack driver where to drop him.
Ten o'clock at night, with nowhere to go and no way to get there, William sat behind the closed Goodwill store, under an overhang that barely kept the rain off of him.
Huddled in the dark, head sunk between his knees, he hadn't heard anyone approach.
"You don't look so good."
Startled, William looked up, prepared to run again. It was the homeless man he'd knocked over outside the bar. The one with the shopping cart and the leathery skin. William relaxed a little. "Excuse me?"
The man pushed his cart closer. "You're not supposed to be here."
William looked around. "Why not?"
The old man grinned, half his teeth gone.
William found it nearly impossible to tell his age. The guy could be forty and maybe had lived a hard life, or perhaps he was a well-preserved seventy, pickled by a lifetime of booze. William waved him off, expecting a plea for money. "I can't help you."
The old man stopped just a few feet away. "Everything's out of place isn't it?" He had a strange lilting voice. Almost like an accent.
And he was right. Everything was out of place--from Johnny Davis to the cab driver--everything was wrong.
Strapped to the back of the old man's shopping cart was a plastic sign about the size of a loaf of bread. William recognized the sign, the words, the colors, the logo of a local supermarket chain, all were familiar to him, but the letters were backward, unreadable.
Rainwater ran down William's face. He pointed to the sign. "Why's it written like that?"
The old man looked at the sign then back at William. "Like what?" he said, then shuffled away behind his basket.
* * *
The rain came down even harder. William slouched in a darkened doorway across the street from Fausto's. Nothing made sense. Everything was messed up, backward, out of whack. Almost like this wasn't his home, like he was a stranger seeing it for the first time.
But that was crazy. He'd grown up here, gone to Brother Martin High School, dated Jenny Underhill who went to Cabrini, lost her to Johnny Davis, then got her back only to lose her again the first year of college to some kid who drove a Mustang. Two years later William married Marge at Saint Luke's. They had two kids.
This town was his home. He recognized it. He knew the people here, Big Johnny and Zeke, the bartender at Fausto's. But things were different, little things. John Davis for one. In trying to help him, the big man had gotten himself killed. That wasn't John Davis--at least not the one William Bailey had known since seventh grade. Everything looked the same but wasn't. Nothing was quite right.
But they knew him--or someone like him.
A strange sensation crept over him that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Maybe he didn't belong here. Maybe everything wasn't as it appeared. Maybe this wasn't his home. But if that were true, then whose home was it? Another thought, even scarier seeped through his brain. If he was here, who was there--at his home?
Crazy.
William dropped his head into his hands. Just considering such nonsense was a waste of time. Yet, here he was scanning the street, thinking of going back inside Fausto's, back to that mirror.
Not much time to think about it. The bar closed at three AM and it was already two-thirty. When he'd left--run for his life with Big Johnny--most of the mirror was still in the frame hanging on the wall.
Something about that damned mirror.
But Fausto's was dangerous, so a couple of hours ago William had found another mirror. In the men's room of a twenty-four hour gas station. The Chevron on North Rampart.
He had approached it cautiously, afraid he was going mad. As he peered over the sink into the mirror, he saw what he always saw, his own reflection. Holding up his left hand, he looked at the image in the mirror, at the watch strapped to his wrist. He noticed that the man in the mirror wore his watch on his right hand. Just the opposite.
William stood in the gas station bathroom for twenty minutes before he worked up his nerve. Finally, he took a deep breath, leaned back, then slammed his forehead into the dirt-streaked mirror. The glass shattered and cut his head. Blood dribbled off the tip of his nose into the sink. His reflection stared out at him from the other side of the mirror, blood running down his face, too.
I have gone crazy!
So the gas station hadn't worked out. Ducking police cruisers, William had wandered the streets, his head reeling. What was he doing?
On the sidewalk, he found a sopping wet magazine that the wind had blown up against the side of a newspaper machine. The cover caught his eye. He picked it up. It was printed backwards, the letters reversed, words running right to left. The spine was on the right. As he flipped through the pages, he couldn't read a thing. Then William had an idea.
In the bathroom of an all night restaurant he held the wet magazine up to the mirror. Perfect. The reflected image was normal, spine on the left, words running left to right, all the letters printed correctly. He could read it clearly. But what did it mean?
Then he drove his head into that mirror. The glass cracked. Someone walked in, a skinny waiter wearing an apron. He stood gawking as William leaned over the sink with tears of pain filling his eyes.
The waiter looked at the broken mirror, then jabbed a finger at William's bloody forehead. "What the hell are you doing?"
"An accident," he mumbled, pressing his fingers against the fresh cut.
The waiter turned. "I'm calling the cops."
William Bailey ran.
Now he was huddled in the rain staring at Fausto's across the street. Because he had nowhere else to go.
He stood and walked toward Fausto's. When he was halfway across the street, a police car glided around the corner, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. The cops in no hurry, just cruising. William forced himself to keep walking, not to run. One foot in front of the other. In the downpour, odds were that the cops wouldn't even recognize him.
But they did recognize him.
The police car slid to a stop as its high beams clicked on and its blue strobe lights started popping. Both front doors flew open.
Like a sinner seeking the sanctuary of a church, William ran straight for Fausto's door. As he burst inside, Zeke looked up from behind the bar. "William! What the hell are you doing here?"
He ignored the bartender, running right past him, eyes focused on the broken mirror and its busted frame hanging on the wall.
Zeke again, "The cops been looking all over for you. Say you killed two officers and--"
Behind him the front door banged against the wall. "Police!" a voice behind him commanded. "Stop."
But William didn't stop. He kept running--running straight for the mirror. Reflected in its fragmented pieces he saw two uniformed police officers behind him, heard their boots pounding on the wooden floor. Just ten feet separated him from the mirror. At full speed he took two strides then dove. He stretched his arms out overhead and tucked his chin into his chest as his feet left the floor.
He felt one hand hit wall and the other strike broken glass. Then his head hit. More glass cracked, more skin split.
Darkness.
* * *
William's eyes popped open. He was staring at the ceiling. Rough voices, even rougher hands. They rolled him over onto his stomach and jerked his arms behind his back. He felt cold steel on his wrists and heard the metallic ratcheting as the handcuffs tightened and bit into his skin.
He tilted his head up and rested his chin against the floor. Blood poured down the side of his face; he watched it pool on the floor then seep between the wooden planks. By rolling his eyes up he could just see the empty spot on the wall where the mirror had hung. Lying on the floor, three feet from his head, was the broken frame and the rest of the glass.
The two cops grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet, sending waves of pain through his shoulders and wrists. As they spun him toward the door, one of the officers said, "You're under arrest."
"Why?" William asked.
The officer pressed his face into William's. "Murdering your family for starters."
"My...my family." William felt his stomach cinch and his bowels turn to ice. A thought he'd had earlier in the night echoed inside his head. If he was here, who was there--at his home.
As the cops dragged him across the floor, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door.
OUT.
He was home.
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William Bailey's forehead shattered the mirror like a sledgehammer. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was the feeling that he was falling through the mirror. Sub-cranial hematoma, a concussion, maybe even a cracked skull--that had to be the reason for the strange feeling. The mirror was mounted on the wall just to the right of the bar, four feet tall by about three feet wide. As consciousness slipped away, common sense and his strong belief in the rational world told him that he couldn't fall through the mirror. He must have bounced his head off the wall and be falling toward the floor.
It seemed like just a second or two before William's eyes popped open. He lay on his back, on the hard wood floor of Fausto's, with Johnny Davis towering over him. Big Johnny probably wanted to finish him off, maybe kill him, and finally end their twenty-year-old feud. Either Big Johnny Davis and the ceiling lights above him were spinning, or William's head was spinning, but either way something wasn't right.
He raised his head and looked to his left, toward the bar. Except the bar wasn't there. Instead, he was staring at the bathrooms. That didn't make sense. It must be his brain that had gotten spun around. William turned his head and peered over his size-ten wingtips at the busted mirror. The wooden frame and most of the glass still clung to the wall, the rest sat broken on the ground. The bar had to be on his left. He looked again, and still saw the bathrooms. A brain bruise, maybe some fluid pressure building up might be the cause of it.
"Get up!" Big Johnny Davis said.
William looked up at him. Johnny stood behind him, just beyond his shoulders. Perfect place for him to stomp my head into the plank floor. Except Johnny Davis was holding out his hand.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here."
Davis looked scared. It was the first time William Bailey could ever remember Johnny Davis looking scared. William had always been scared of Big Johnny, but Big Johnny wasn't scared of anything or anyone.
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder. William craned his neck to look where Johnny was looking, saw he was staring at the front door like a man terrified something bad was going to come through it. Big Johnny looked down at him again and pumped his hand. "Come on, get up. They'll be here any second."
"Who?" William asked. "Who'll be--" But before he finished, Big Johnny Davis reached down, grabbed him by both arms, and jerked him to his feet.
As he was dragged toward the door by the only man in town who truly hated him, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door. He had to have a concussion, probably severe; that had to be it, because the letters on the sign were backward. It said TUO.
As Johnny Davis pulled him out the door, William heard tires skid on the pavement.
"Where's your car?" Johnny asked.
William twisted away from the big man's grip, then turned to his left. "In the alley." He started to run, still not sure exactly what he was running from.
Behind him, Big John shouted, "The alley's over here."
William kept running but turned his head back toward Johnny. "I know where the alley--"
Something hit him across the midsection and toppled him to the ground. He got his hands up just in time to break his fall and managed to keep his head from slamming into the sidewalk. When he looked up he saw a shopping cart tumbled onto its side.
Once again, William found himself lying flat on his back, this time amid the spilled contents of the cart. It had been filled with junk: paper bags full of dirty clothes, canned food, bags of potato chips, a diamond shaped, orange road sign, and other trash that looked like it had been collected from back alley garbage bins.
The homeless man who'd been pushing the cart was scrawny, and wafer thin. His skin was the color of old shoe leather, and he wore a long gray beard, tangled and matted with food and bits of filth. He was sprawled on the ground next to his cart, half sitting up, staring at William with his bright blue eyes.
Car doors slammed, men shouted.
"You better get going," the homeless man said, as he cocked his head. "The police after you?"
Police!
Before William could assure the old man that the police weren't after him--he was a respected businessman and family man--someone behind him grabbed him under both arms and pulled him to his feet. William turned and found himself staring into the face of Johnny Davis. "The alley's that way," Johnny said, pointing to the other side of Fausto's. With one hand gripping William's jacket, Johnny dashed across the front of the bar toward the alley. The alley--right there, plain as day--on the other side of Fausto's, right where it shouldn't be, where it couldn't be. William had been here a thousand times. As you stepped out of the bar, the alley was on the left, Brockton's Ace Hardware on the right. Now everything was mixed up and in the wrong place.
Johnny Davis turned down the alley, dragging William behind him. After just a few steps, a spotlight flashed in front of them.
"Stop!" a voice commanded. "Get on the ground."
William couldn't see because Johnny was in his way. "Who's that yelling?" he asked.
Big Johnny stopped and William plowed into his back.
"Get on the ground," the voice boomed again.
William poked his head out from behind Johnny Davis's back. The blinding white light was in his face. He couldn't see a thing.
POP! POP! POP!
Gunshots.
Big Johnny sagged, then crashed to his knees. Instinctively, William bent forward and grabbed hold of Johnny. "What's the matter?"
More pops.
Johnny's big hand reached out and shoved William back toward the street. "Back door," he wheezed, then plunged forward onto his face.
William stood alone. Behind the white spotlight he saw blue police lights flashing. He was totally exposed.
POP! POP!
He saw flashes--little yellow spurts of flame--as something tugged at his jacket.
William had said "back door." What back door? Fausto's had a back door, but it didn't lead anywhere except to the open space behind the building used for trash and deliveries. Twenty feet of asphalt between the bar and the back of the building on the next block. William had parked his car at the end of the alley, but the police cars--or whatever they were--had the alley blocked off. The building behind Fausto's also had an alley that ran alongside it, but the owner had closed it off to keep the bums out. He'd put up a gate, padlocked it, and topped it with razor wire. It was a dead end.
Two more pops. Dead end or not it was better than standing here and getting shot. William turned and ran. He burst through the front door of Fausto's, dashed through the bar, past the shattered mirror, hit the back door at a dead run, and was outside behind the bar within seconds.
He could see the tail end of his car sticking out from the corner of the building, but with the cops blocking the alley, his car was useless to him. William glanced across the open space to the alley that ran next to the other building. The gate, the padlock, the razor wire--all still in place. To his right an overflowing garbage dumpster sat beside the back of Fausto's, jammed against the fire ladder.
The fire ladder.
An iron ladder bolted to the cinderblock wall.
William looked up. The top of the ladder was lost in shadow, but he knew it went up two stories to the roof. Last summer, when the toilet had stopped up, he'd come out back to take a leak and had stood behind the dumpster, peeing against the wall like a kid, one hand draped over the bottom rung of the ladder.
He slipped behind the dumpster. The smell made him gag. The bottom of the ladder was four feet from the ground. William reached up as high as he could, grabbed hold of the third rung, then hauled himself up.
Through the partially open back door came the sounds of heavy feet pounding on the hard wood floor of the bar.
Halfway up the ladder, he was exhausted--and scared. Shaking, he white-knuckled the ladder. Being more than ten feet off the ground terrified him. He needed a break, just a second or two to catch his breath. There was enough moonlight so he could see into one of the second story windows. Inside, junk was piled everywhere. Old barstools, a busted jukebox, furniture stacked almost to the ceiling. Years ago, old man Fausto lived on the second floor, but Jake, who'd bought the place from the old man and had decided to keep the name, used it for storage.
Below him, William heard the back door thrown open so hard it banged against the wall. He scrambled up until he reached the top of the ladder, then hoisted himself over the edge of the roof. Down on the ground a voice shouted, "There he is, up there."
Another gunshot. What the hell was going on?
The unmistakable sound of feet--fast feet, in shape feet, boot shod feet--scurrying up the ladder. Standing on the tar and pebble roof, William glanced around for something he could use as a weapon, shocked he was even thinking of such a thing. A five gallon plastic bucket was all there was. It stood upright, filled with rainwater. He picked it up and peered over the edge. A uniformed policeman was three quarters of the way up the ladder. Two more cops were right behind him.
William looked at the heavy bucket in his hands, thought about just dumping the water onto them but knew it wouldn't stop them. There was only one way to stop them, and that was to knock them off the ladder. He thought about warning them, maybe trying to scare them away. But they were cops. You couldn't scare them away.
So why had they shot Johnny Davis, and why were they shooting at him?
The first officer looked up and saw William staring down at him with the bucket in his hands. Their eyes locked for just a second and the cop stopped. In those eyes that stared back at him, William saw an almost maniacal determination that sent a shiver down his spine. The officer held his grip on the ladder with his right hand while his left dropped to the pistol resting in his gleaming leather holster. In one smooth motion he drew his gun and raised it toward William.
William Bailey tossed the bucket down the ladder. A shot rang out an instant before the heavy bucket thudded into the cop's head. Like a gruesome traffic accident happening before his eyes, William couldn't help but watch as the policeman fell, taking his two partners down with him. The last thing William saw before he turned away was a jumbled heap of black uniforms resting on the concrete below the ladder.
* * *
Hiding in the shadow of a telephone booth, thinking. Home. He had to get home. Had to get back to Marge and the kids. Maybe somehow he could explain what had happened. Vincent, his attorney, he would know what to do--maybe--but he was a civil lawyer not a criminal attorney. He wrote contracts and did personal injury on the side; he didn't get people out of jail who'd killed a cop by dropping a bucket of water on his head and knocking him and his buddies off the side of a building.
As the cab he'd been waiting for pulled up, William stepped out from the dark and climbed into the back seat.
The driver turned around. "Where to?"
William pulled the door shut. "Uptown. 1721 Audubon Court."
"Fare's gonna be about fifteen dollars. After dark, I gotta have the money up front."
"What?"
"Company policy." The cabbie shrugged. "A lot of drivers been getting stiffed."
William opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty and handed it across the seat. The driver took it and almost slipped it into his cash box, then took a second look at the bill. His face tightened. "What the hell is this?"
"Huh?"
With the bill stretched between his hands, the cabbie stared at it for a second then looked up at William. "You're either the dumbest counterfeiter who ever lived or you've been had."
"What you are talking about?"
The driver faced the bill toward William but didn't hand it back to him. "It's printed backwards."
William looked at the twenty-dollar bill in the man's hand. It looked like--it was--an almost brand new bill, nothing wrong with it as far as he could tell.
"Get out of my cab," the driver said.
William didn't know what the man was talking about but knew he didn't want to get out. This cab was his only way home. He reached for the twenty. "If you don't like that one I've got another--"
The driver pulled his hands away. "I ain't giving this back. I got to turn it in to the police." He dropped one hand behind his seat back, then came up clutching a pistol, an old German Luger by the looks of it, the muzzle aimed straight at William's face. "In fact, I bet they give me a reward if I bring you in with it."
William jerked the door handle and rolled out into the street. He sprang to his feet and ran, the driver's yells just background noise. Has everyone gone crazy or is it just me?
Home. He had to get home.
* * *
Rain. Driving, relentless rain. William was just two blocks from Fausto's. In two hours, that's as far as he'd gotten--one block an hour. Police cars prowled the neighborhood, shinning spotlights into every nook and cranny, lighting up every shadow. Everyone in Fausto's knew his name. He'd been going there three or four nights a week after work for years. The cabbie had his address. William had given it to him when he told the hack driver where to drop him.
Ten o'clock at night, with nowhere to go and no way to get there, William sat behind the closed Goodwill store, under an overhang that barely kept the rain off of him.
Huddled in the dark, head sunk between his knees, he hadn't heard anyone approach.
"You don't look so good."
Startled, William looked up, prepared to run again. It was the homeless man he'd knocked over outside the bar. The one with the shopping cart and the leathery skin. William relaxed a little. "Excuse me?"
The man pushed his cart closer. "You're not supposed to be here."
William looked around. "Why not?"
The old man grinned, half his teeth gone.
William found it nearly impossible to tell his age. The guy could be forty and maybe had lived a hard life, or perhaps he was a well-preserved seventy, pickled by a lifetime of booze. William waved him off, expecting a plea for money. "I can't help you."
The old man stopped just a few feet away. "Everything's out of place isn't it?" He had a strange lilting voice. Almost like an accent.
And he was right. Everything was out of place--from Johnny Davis to the cab driver--everything was wrong.
Strapped to the back of the old man's shopping cart was a plastic sign about the size of a loaf of bread. William recognized the sign, the words, the colors, the logo of a local supermarket chain, all were familiar to him, but the letters were backward, unreadable.
Rainwater ran down William's face. He pointed to the sign. "Why's it written like that?"
The old man looked at the sign then back at William. "Like what?" he said, then shuffled away behind his basket.
* * *
The rain came down even harder. William slouched in a darkened doorway across the street from Fausto's. Nothing made sense. Everything was messed up, backward, out of whack. Almost like this wasn't his home, like he was a stranger seeing it for the first time.
But that was crazy. He'd grown up here, gone to Brother Martin High School, dated Jenny Underhill who went to Cabrini, lost her to Johnny Davis, then got her back only to lose her again the first year of college to some kid who drove a Mustang. Two years later William married Marge at Saint Luke's. They had two kids.
This town was his home. He recognized it. He knew the people here, Big Johnny and Zeke, the bartender at Fausto's. But things were different, little things. John Davis for one. In trying to help him, the big man had gotten himself killed. That wasn't John Davis--at least not the one William Bailey had known since seventh grade. Everything looked the same but wasn't. Nothing was quite right.
But they knew him--or someone like him.
A strange sensation crept over him that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Maybe he didn't belong here. Maybe everything wasn't as it appeared. Maybe this wasn't his home. But if that were true, then whose home was it? Another thought, even scarier seeped through his brain. If he was here, who was there--at his home?
Crazy.
William dropped his head into his hands. Just considering such nonsense was a waste of time. Yet, here he was scanning the street, thinking of going back inside Fausto's, back to that mirror.
Not much time to think about it. The bar closed at three AM and it was already two-thirty. When he'd left--run for his life with Big Johnny--most of the mirror was still in the frame hanging on the wall.
Something about that damned mirror.
But Fausto's was dangerous, so a couple of hours ago William had found another mirror. In the men's room of a twenty-four hour gas station. The Chevron on North Rampart.
He had approached it cautiously, afraid he was going mad. As he peered over the sink into the mirror, he saw what he always saw, his own reflection. Holding up his left hand, he looked at the image in the mirror, at the watch strapped to his wrist. He noticed that the man in the mirror wore his watch on his right hand. Just the opposite.
William stood in the gas station bathroom for twenty minutes before he worked up his nerve. Finally, he took a deep breath, leaned back, then slammed his forehead into the dirt-streaked mirror. The glass shattered and cut his head. Blood dribbled off the tip of his nose into the sink. His reflection stared out at him from the other side of the mirror, blood running down his face, too.
I have gone crazy!
So the gas station hadn't worked out. Ducking police cruisers, William had wandered the streets, his head reeling. What was he doing?
On the sidewalk, he found a sopping wet magazine that the wind had blown up against the side of a newspaper machine. The cover caught his eye. He picked it up. It was printed backwards, the letters reversed, words running right to left. The spine was on the right. As he flipped through the pages, he couldn't read a thing. Then William had an idea.
In the bathroom of an all night restaurant he held the wet magazine up to the mirror. Perfect. The reflected image was normal, spine on the left, words running left to right, all the letters printed correctly. He could read it clearly. But what did it mean?
Then he drove his head into that mirror. The glass cracked. Someone walked in, a skinny waiter wearing an apron. He stood gawking as William leaned over the sink with tears of pain filling his eyes.
The waiter looked at the broken mirror, then jabbed a finger at William's bloody forehead. "What the hell are you doing?"
"An accident," he mumbled, pressing his fingers against the fresh cut.
The waiter turned. "I'm calling the cops."
William Bailey ran.
Now he was huddled in the rain staring at Fausto's across the street. Because he had nowhere else to go.
He stood and walked toward Fausto's. When he was halfway across the street, a police car glided around the corner, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. The cops in no hurry, just cruising. William forced himself to keep walking, not to run. One foot in front of the other. In the downpour, odds were that the cops wouldn't even recognize him.
But they did recognize him.
The police car slid to a stop as its high beams clicked on and its blue strobe lights started popping. Both front doors flew open.
Like a sinner seeking the sanctuary of a church, William ran straight for Fausto's door. As he burst inside, Zeke looked up from behind the bar. "William! What the hell are you doing here?"
He ignored the bartender, running right past him, eyes focused on the broken mirror and its busted frame hanging on the wall.
Zeke again, "The cops been looking all over for you. Say you killed two officers and--"
Behind him the front door banged against the wall. "Police!" a voice behind him commanded. "Stop."
But William didn't stop. He kept running--running straight for the mirror. Reflected in its fragmented pieces he saw two uniformed police officers behind him, heard their boots pounding on the wooden floor. Just ten feet separated him from the mirror. At full speed he took two strides then dove. He stretched his arms out overhead and tucked his chin into his chest as his feet left the floor.
He felt one hand hit wall and the other strike broken glass. Then his head hit. More glass cracked, more skin split.
Darkness.
* * *
William's eyes popped open. He was staring at the ceiling. Rough voices, even rougher hands. They rolled him over onto his stomach and jerked his arms behind his back. He felt cold steel on his wrists and heard the metallic ratcheting as the handcuffs tightened and bit into his skin.
He tilted his head up and rested his chin against the floor. Blood poured down the side of his face; he watched it pool on the floor then seep between the wooden planks. By rolling his eyes up he could just see the empty spot on the wall where the mirror had hung. Lying on the floor, three feet from his head, was the broken frame and the rest of the glass.
The two cops grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet, sending waves of pain through his shoulders and wrists. As they spun him toward the door, one of the officers said, "You're under arrest."
"Why?" William asked.
The officer pressed his face into William's. "Murdering your family for starters."
"My...my family." William felt his stomach cinch and his bowels turn to ice. A thought he'd had earlier in the night echoed inside his head. If he was here, who was there--at his home.
As the cops dragged him across the floor, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door.
OUT.
He was home.
2023.05.30 22:36 GhoulsParty H: oe ap sent fsa LA + 500 leader W: oe ap sent usa LA
 | submitted by GhoulsParty to Market76 [link] [comments] |
2023.05.30 22:34 Flacco_Elite USA - 2 in 1 laptop for engineering student
LAPTOP QUESTIONNAIRE
Total budget (in local currency) and country of purchase. Please do not use USD unless purchasing in the US:
USA - $2,000
Are you open to refurbs/used?
No
How would you prioritize form factor (ultrabook, 2-in-1, etc.), build quality, performance, and battery life?
Must be a 2 in 1 as I need to be able to take notes on it. Performance is second most important as I will be doing some light to heavy data processing. Battery life isn't very important as it will be plugged in most of the time.
How important is weight and thinness to you?
Not important however I still need to be able to carry it in a backpack. Hence, I can't have it too heavy like a gaming laptop.
Do you have a preferred screen size? If indifferent, put N/A.
14 inch, preferably 3k+ resolution.
Are you doing any CAD/video editing/photo editing/gaming? List which programs/games you desire to run.
Mainly running code in Matlab, Python, possibly C++ in the future. No gaming or CAD, however a dedicated graphics card is desirable, but not necessary.
If you're gaming, do you have certain games you want to play? At what settings and FPS do you want?
N/A
Any specific requirements such as good keyboard, reliable build quality, touch-screen, finger-print reader, optical drive or good input devices (keyboard/touchpad)?
Must be good at note taking. A 3k+ screen resolution is highly desirable as well.
Leave any finishing thoughts here that you may feel are necessary and beneficial to the discussion.
Nothing else, any suggestions are welcome. I'm currently considering the Yoga 9i or the Surface Laptop Studio. Please leave me any other suggestions.
submitted by Flacco_Elite to SuggestALaptop [link] [comments]
Total budget (in local currency) and country of purchase. Please do not use USD unless purchasing in the US:
USA - $2,000
Are you open to refurbs/used?
No
How would you prioritize form factor (ultrabook, 2-in-1, etc.), build quality, performance, and battery life?
Must be a 2 in 1 as I need to be able to take notes on it. Performance is second most important as I will be doing some light to heavy data processing. Battery life isn't very important as it will be plugged in most of the time.
How important is weight and thinness to you?
Not important however I still need to be able to carry it in a backpack. Hence, I can't have it too heavy like a gaming laptop.
Do you have a preferred screen size? If indifferent, put N/A.
14 inch, preferably 3k+ resolution.
Are you doing any CAD/video editing/photo editing/gaming? List which programs/games you desire to run.
Mainly running code in Matlab, Python, possibly C++ in the future. No gaming or CAD, however a dedicated graphics card is desirable, but not necessary.
If you're gaming, do you have certain games you want to play? At what settings and FPS do you want?
N/A
Any specific requirements such as good keyboard, reliable build quality, touch-screen, finger-print reader, optical drive or good input devices (keyboard/touchpad)?
Must be good at note taking. A 3k+ screen resolution is highly desirable as well.
Leave any finishing thoughts here that you may feel are necessary and beneficial to the discussion.
Nothing else, any suggestions are welcome. I'm currently considering the Yoga 9i or the Surface Laptop Studio. Please leave me any other suggestions.
2023.05.30 22:31 4DSandwichExperience FS: Crust Malocchio Road/Gravel AXS Build, Large/59cm
Listing a recent build of mine as we’ve got a newborn and I’m dropping down to a single bike stable for the foreseeable future due to limited riding time.
Less than 300 miles on it total, bike is in flawless condition and ready to rock. All components were new for the build other than the shifters, saddle, and seatpost. Impressively light for a full steel frame and does a great job absorbing road chatter. A weird (and fun) blend of tech and retro. For my Orange County people, I built this up with Santiago Canyon, Silverado, and Modjeska in mind. 59cm frameset was a great fit for me at 6’1.5”.
Force AXS shifters, Red crankset (167.5mm w/46T chainring), Rival AXS XPLR derailleur and Force XPLR cassette. Wheels MFG bottom bracket.
Velo Orange Grand Cru Brakeset and Headset, Mercury S3 Carbon wheelset set up tubeless with 32mm Gravelkings and Muc-Off valves. Frame/calipers can easily clear 35s in the rear and likely a 38 in the front. Black Prince pads just set up (1 ride) for a little extra bite, but I’ll also include the originally Mercury pads, which are softer but dead silent.
Zipp XPLR 44cm handlebars, Nitto UI-12 110mm stem (also have 100mm if needed) Soma seatpost, Specialized Romin Pro saddle. If you’re a narrow handlebar fan I’ll also toss in a used set of 40cm Easton EC70 bars that won’t be going on any other builds.
Only item to note is a potential slight slip in the seatpost - it occurred more frequently with a shorter seatpost I used originally, and I haven’t noticed it as much with the Soma, but my guess is that it’s something with the chasing/finishing from the factory on the interior of the seat tube. As I don’t have the time to fully assess it, as part of the sale I’ll pay for whatever fix is needed (if any). Want to take it to a bike shop? I’ll send you the 80 bucks for labor. Want to use a larger diameter Thomson seatpost? I’ll cover the cost of a new seatpost. Are you handy and able to fix the issue at home? Perfect, just lie to me and tell me it cost 100 dollars, I’ll still gladly compensate you. Just want to be sure the buyer is as happy with the bike long term as they should be.
Looking for $3,100 net to me, we can figure out shipping or I can likely meet in the greater Southern California area within reason from south Orange County.
Happy to answer any questions or send along any additional photos. Cages and pedals not included.
Full album:
https://imgur.com/a/aKLnD3f
submitted by 4DSandwichExperience to BikeShop [link] [comments]
Less than 300 miles on it total, bike is in flawless condition and ready to rock. All components were new for the build other than the shifters, saddle, and seatpost. Impressively light for a full steel frame and does a great job absorbing road chatter. A weird (and fun) blend of tech and retro. For my Orange County people, I built this up with Santiago Canyon, Silverado, and Modjeska in mind. 59cm frameset was a great fit for me at 6’1.5”.
Force AXS shifters, Red crankset (167.5mm w/46T chainring), Rival AXS XPLR derailleur and Force XPLR cassette. Wheels MFG bottom bracket.
Velo Orange Grand Cru Brakeset and Headset, Mercury S3 Carbon wheelset set up tubeless with 32mm Gravelkings and Muc-Off valves. Frame/calipers can easily clear 35s in the rear and likely a 38 in the front. Black Prince pads just set up (1 ride) for a little extra bite, but I’ll also include the originally Mercury pads, which are softer but dead silent.
Zipp XPLR 44cm handlebars, Nitto UI-12 110mm stem (also have 100mm if needed) Soma seatpost, Specialized Romin Pro saddle. If you’re a narrow handlebar fan I’ll also toss in a used set of 40cm Easton EC70 bars that won’t be going on any other builds.
Only item to note is a potential slight slip in the seatpost - it occurred more frequently with a shorter seatpost I used originally, and I haven’t noticed it as much with the Soma, but my guess is that it’s something with the chasing/finishing from the factory on the interior of the seat tube. As I don’t have the time to fully assess it, as part of the sale I’ll pay for whatever fix is needed (if any). Want to take it to a bike shop? I’ll send you the 80 bucks for labor. Want to use a larger diameter Thomson seatpost? I’ll cover the cost of a new seatpost. Are you handy and able to fix the issue at home? Perfect, just lie to me and tell me it cost 100 dollars, I’ll still gladly compensate you. Just want to be sure the buyer is as happy with the bike long term as they should be.
Looking for $3,100 net to me, we can figure out shipping or I can likely meet in the greater Southern California area within reason from south Orange County.
Happy to answer any questions or send along any additional photos. Cages and pedals not included.
Full album:
https://imgur.com/a/aKLnD3f