Hey y'all
Been having a couple of oral issues that have been annoying me for the past month.
On and off, it feels like my mouth (especially the roof and back) are coated with this film. Can't explain it but it was a bit of a metallic taste.
Also, I noticed when I run my tongue along the space between the gum and my two front teeth, there's a metallic taste there as well. Lastly, I've been feeling tiny "cuts" in my mouth on my roof or the gums near my molars. They typically heal within the day, but then come back at a later date. No bad breath.
I brush and floss once daily (could be better, def half ass it with flossing tho) so now that I'm trying to do it more and my gums don't like it.
Got any thoughts what it could be? Got an appointment set for next week but would like to know what I can do to mitigate this weird taste.
Also, worth noting I suffer from GERD so a part of me thinks it could just be acid reflux, but the taste doesn't go away even after I floss/brush.

About 3 days ago I developed a small bump on the roof of my mouth. It does not feel very hard, kind of like a ball under the skin. It hurts slightly if I push down on it with my tongue. I tried as best I could to take clear pictures. Hopefully they can help. The only reason I'm worried is because lately I have been feeling hot as well as some slight shortness of breath.

I know, crazy problem to have with dentures, huh? I am 5 months from eday and I use cushion grip on top dentures. If I don't put enough they rock from side to side. If I put what I feel is the right amount they are perfect all the time, all day...that is - until I start eating. While chewing the suction becomes stronger and stronger and stronger. After about a minute or so of chewing I have to stop eating break the suction because the pressure towards the front of gums is too much (where the top 4 front teeth used to be and maybe a bit of the roof in that area). It's kind of like when we get our blood pressure taken and the cuff may be on too tight and as the nurse pumps it gets tighter and tighter until it's finished and we're like oh man thank goodness s/he stopped. That's how it is when I chew, again we should be so happy with more suction but not with this much pressure. If I'm out to eat with people I obviously can't put my fingethumb in my mouth to push teeth forward to pop the suction so I'll stop eating and it feels better in about 5 minutes. After I begin eating again, it's back to too much suction in a minute or so. After all the months of reading about dentures I've never heard anybody complain about too much suction. Anyone else have similar issue?

Hi there!! I am exactly 1 week post E Day with immediate uppers! I had 10 extractions on the top and 3 on the bottom. My 3 sites on the bottom look amazing, almost fully healed, no swelling and definitely no pain.. but under my denture is actually terrifying 😅 I would post a pic I took yesterday but it makes my stomach turn.. lol. It looks like almost brown/grey, and the roof of my mouth feels DISGUSTING! I called my denturist and he said it’s normal and only thing I should be looking for is white pus. & told me not to scrub, brush, or disturb anything. I see white but that’s my tissue healing? I am not having any pain I’m just really nervous about how it’s looking under there. Can anyone give me any insight on what’s normal/not normal at this stage of healing? Did my bottoms heal faster because they aren’t under the denture? He was STRICT in telling me I can not leave my denture out at all until I see him on Tuesday just taking it out to clean & rinse my mouth 2-3 times a day then put it right back in.

What I mean to say is, you're safe. It's just a book. But you get to feel some extreme emotions, and that's hella fun!
{Across State Lines by Lauren Biel} knocked it out of the park for me but it is a DARK romance. Emphasis on DARK: Serial killing trucker x hitchhiking sex worker. Both have SA in their pasts. He has dissociative identity disorder (split personalities). There are no children in it. The title doesn't refer to transporting a child.
It is a veritable catalogue of kink. In terms of kink-per-page, mapping this book would look like central Dubai. And none of those kinks make my personal list of favorites. I'm not even a horror fan: Final Girl stories are new to me. I don't really like the MMC(s). Or the FMC for that matter. So why the heck am I raving about this book?
Two reasons.
ONE: Because I admire Aurora Rivelle. She's a FMC for the ages. She survives where I would not. Aurora is both broken and unbreakable, and it's magnificent to watch.
While feeling superior to TSTL heroines has its occasional charm, for me one of the most delightful feelings in romance is encountering a FMC who stuns me, rocks me back on my heels, makes me think 'Holy shit, bravo! You rocked that! I bow down before you!'
I love Bridget Jones. But sometimes I hate the decades of fumbling, bumbling heroines she heralded. On occasion, I want a badass version of Barbara Stanwyk in The Lady Eve (1941, film buffs please don't hate me for making that comparison--she's just the anti-Bridget). I want competence, poise, and a total lack of apology. Aurora Rivelle supplies all three, in unexpected flavors.
It's an all-too-rare feeling, elicited by the likes of Maura Quinn (well, up until the whole surprise pregnancy thing) in {Embrace the Darkness by Ashley N. Rostek}, Daniel Schwartz (yes, a woman named Daniel) of {Taunt by Eve Dangerfield}, and of course Lana Mothermindfucking Myers of the {Mindf*ck series by ST Abby}.
TWO: Because it's an emotional adventure! Admittedly, I have a tendency to giggle-cackle through bananapants plots. For example, {Stranded by Selena Winters} involves stalking, CNC, masks, and primal play. My reaction was continuous hilarity and "I can't believe you went there… does that mean you're going to... oh WOW tee hee hee!" Plus it was hot.
Traveling to crazy-town (I don't mean the kink. I mean the wisdom in engaging in it in those circumstances) within the sheltered confines of an HEA guarantee is like wearing a seatbelt. You can safely navigate otherwise too-dangerous territory.
Across State Lines goes deep into the dark. The plot is detached from reality but the emotional journey that plot entails is real. (Please run, not walk, to watch the ContraPoints video on Twilight, which analyses the psychology of romance fiction and is hilarious.)
Kane and Amelia's story is like sitting down to a 13-course dinner where every dish is going to burn the hell out of your mouth but be oh-so worth it. This isn't just a meal, it's a feast. Possibly with an orgy to follow. It's an experience.
I read a great deal of mostly-dark smut, and this was like inhaling quality moonshine. Though {Then, Earth Swallowed Ocean by Shiloh Sloane} is still the (gorgeously written) titan against which all others must be measured.
This book is more fun, though. The word "whee!" applies. In fact, the author's sense of humor functions as another kind of seatbelt.
It relaxed me, the steady wit a reassurance that this is a smart, mature, sane person at the writing wheel, and that they're going to make the ride comes to a nice, gentle HEA stop. Basically, the humor and excellent prose gave me faith the author was going to pull it off.
(Still laughing about Kane's multiple personalities causing him to be known in prison as the violent masturbator who cries a lot: "Not a good look" as he put it.)
Two notes:

1. The portrayal of DID is probably imperfect. My not-degree from Shallan Davar University says it's respectable.
2. The plot includes sex trafficking, which I normally hate as a plot device, but I'm cutting this author some slack because of the small scale of the trafficking portrayed. What sends my blood pressure through the roof is large-scale, Shades-of-Illuminati, 21st Century White Slave Fantasy QAnon Brand™ trafficking, which can be harmful misinformation.

Today (Friday June 7th) I finally passed my G Road Test at Downsview and it feels like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. (Test was at 10:01am)
I’ll breaking it into sections, backstory, experience, and tips.
Little backstory; I originally got my G2 in 2022 but I felt unconfident that I passed with my own skills so I held off driving on my own and driving in general. Fast forward a year later, I was practicing for the G test with an instructor and booked it at Downsview at 9:55am. I felt confident since I was practicing the route an hour before hand. However, I failed the first time. I had 2 major errors which were my fault and I checked the score sheet and it had 13 or so minor errors. My confidence was pretty much gone (partially cause the examiner made me nervous) and I held off driving for 9 months or so.
9 months later, my license was going to expire soon (July 2024) and so I went for lessons with a new instructor My anxiety and nervousness about the test was pretty bad as I was left still sad about the first G test. Did 6-7 or so lessons (including one on the day of which was today) and my test anxiety was through the roof as my instructor did not practice the route at all and we only practiced merging once or twice per lesson.
A week before my 2nd attempt, I was so stressed because I didn’t want to fail and spend even more money into something a lot of people can do. But, my mind was always in self doubt. You could say, financially I was more stressed than the actual driving itself.
Heading into the test, 2 hours before I was watching videos on the route and pretending I was driving along the route, making sure I was doing my mirror checks, blind spot checks, left right left checks, mirrors every 5 seconds. It helped a little bit with anxiety. By the time I got to the test Center , I didn’t feel it but my heart was racing high according to my smart watch (around 150bpm and 160sbpm during the test). As I checked in and got back to the car, I was nervous af but I was doing breathing exercises to help not feel that anxiety. When the test started, I still felt nervous as I didn’t know what to expect with the examiners mood. However, as the longer I drove the more relaxed I became as the examiner was chill (not friendly but not rude/condescending). It also helped that the traffic wasn’t too bad. Although, my throat and mouth were dry af but I didn’t want to risk anything by sipping water when I could have.
By the end of the test, I was worried about the results as I couldn’t get to 100 on the acceleration lane due to traffic and the examiner sorta tried to rush me on one lane change right when heading back. When I turned off the car, my examiner told me “*My Name, you are actually a pretty good driver. Congratulations you passed” and I felt so relieved, like butterflies released from my stomach. I checked my scoresheet when I got home and I only had 3 minor errors (none were for the highway portion, including the merge) compared to the double digits last time. So I felt even more happy about that. This time around, compared to my G2 pass I feel like I actually passed because of my skill and that I’m actually a half-decent driver xD
Tips: If you have test anxiety like me, just try to think positive even if the thoughts creep up. Just remember if you’re afraid of doing the test, at least do it (to some degree) afraid. A quote that helped me was “Focus on your actions, not the outcome. It is all you can control” (points if you know where this is from). Chew gum if you have to, doing breath excerises. Think about the present, not the future or past.
Now for the actual driving test part, like many have said this test is mainly focused on your observations and judgement. Do not rush things, that’s how I failed the first time. Make your turns/lane changes when it’s safe. Remember on lane changes that a car could always try to pass you, especially on the highway. So make sure to do your mirror checks and if you a see a car catching you, do not try to force the lane change. Just keep calm and wait until there’s a good gap. Of course though, with traffic you’ll have to make a judgement call. Always do a shoulder check when approaching your turn. Remember to do left right left checks when proceeding through intersection, scan your mirrors every 5 or so seconds (you don’t have to do all 3 each time). When you’re stopped, keep yourself busy. Look at your mirrors, look left right, look ahead just don’t always stare straight at the car in front of you. You need to know the surrounding around you.
Anyways that is all and my personal experience. I’d like to thank those who posted/replied with useful tips on this sub to those who are also feeling anxious about the test. You can do it. Good luck to those doing their g2/g test in the future. So glad I’m done with the process.

[Part 1] [Part 2]
Admiral Pyraxis drummed his talons on his desk. A rhythmic sound, which he found quite comforting. Arranged on his desk stood various fine wines he had procured by means of ordering mass confiscation of alcohol from the Humans.
“Sir, are you sure the local drink isn’t affecting your judgement?”
And that was the sound of Pyraxis’s greatest headache - his incessant subordinate, Krystak, who was only one rank lower than him and undoubtedly waiting for the perfect opportunity to usurp Pyraxis.
“No, Krystak, I am quite unaffected by these beverages,” he lied, “also - you’re out of line speaking to me like that.”
Krystak bowed his head in apology. Taking a glug from a bottle gripped in his right hand, he gestured for Krystak to begin his debrief.
“Well, we have seen a 6.2% increase in attacks since last month. Of those, most have been unsuccessful, but we took approximately 17,800 fatalities this month, which is an 8% increase from last month. Efforts to locate major concentrations of exiled army units have failed, however, we succeeded in raiding weapons caches on all settled continents. Counter intelligence is working diligently to root out urban resistance, but rural resistance is unfortunately going to take a lot longer than predicted to eradicate.”
“We also managed to get some industrial and mining operations going without them being immediately blown up, which is good progress.”
Pyraxis took another long gulp of wine, before standing up, “I need you to get this damned planet under control! Is that clear? Because in five local cycles, the colonisation fleet will arrive. If they get here and it’s still a warzone, we will both be replaced. I don’t care how many people you have to kill to do it. Exterminate even more if you have to. Understood?”
Krystak opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it and nodded.
“Dismissed.”
He saluted, then marched out of Pyraxis’s office.
“Fucking Humans,” he muttered to himself. At least they had some decent swear words. Staring out the window at Earth, he downed the rest of his bottle, and passed out.

“I feel I have to tell you that what you are about to embark on is a suicide mission. Not one of you is expected to come back alive. If that isn’t your cup of tea, there is no shame in backing out now.” A few people in the back surreptitiously left the hall everyone had gathered in.
After a moment, the speaker - one general Mathews - resumed his briefing.
“This attack is one of many coordinated strikes which will - if successful - cripple the enemy’s ability to fight, and may just win us the war. Of those of you gathered here, most will partake in the main attack. The target is located on the Isle of Man - specifically, the old RAF base Jurby. It has been converted into a base of operations. All you need to know is that another, smaller force, will infiltrate the base. In order to complete their objective, you will need to divert as many troops away from the north of the base as possible.”
“Jurby has been turned into a fortress - our intel says there are at least five thousand Salvad troops on the island, and of those, one thousand are located within or near Jurby. Your goal is not to beat them, but distract them. You will be granted heavy weapons - in fact, everything we have at our disposal is going into this attack.”
Robert stood in the back, leaning against the wall, observing the reactions of the men around him.
“You will have the aid of local resistance forces, but they are not to be relied upon for anything other than intel - they are not combat troops. You will deploy under the cover of night. Our numbers should double when we reach the rendezvous point at Kidsdale prior to departure - we’re calling in everyone for this. The Salvads don’t have a seaborne navy, which is important for us, since you will be landing by boat.”
This had an interesting reception - mostly of shock, a bit of scorn. Once the chatter had died down, the general continued.
“We have commandeered numerous small civilian boats. There should be enough to carry everyone over to the Island. You will land on the west coast, south of Jurby. From there, Alpha team under Johnson will advance north to Jurby, where you will attack with everything you’ve got. Use the element of surprise, draw the enemy out. Beta team under Simmons will advance to St. Judes to cut off enemy land reinforcements. Charlie team under Smith will protect your rear from attack. There can be no radio chatter on the way over - we really need the element of surprise. Once they know you’re there, try to limit comms since we have no idea if they can decrypt our signals.”
“Hold out for as long as possible. The attack is scheduled to begin at 2400 hours two days from now. Gather your equipment, and prepare for a long march to the rendezvous. I will follow you up to that point. Questions?”
Robert lost interest at that point. He shook the ache out of his legs and walked through to the gathering spot for the infiltration team. He knew a few faces. A couple of Royal Marines were present, and some exiles from mainland europe. There were eight of them total, although apparently their team was thirty strong.
Where the rest of this little suicide squad was, he had no idea.

Robert decided he really didn’t like whoever had come up with this part of the plan. They were not going with the main force, but were instead going to a different rendezvous to board a submarine. They would then ride this submarine to the Isle of Man. It would be 2 AM when they disembarked three kilometres north of Jurby. This would give the main attackers two hours to draw away the majority of the guards.
Robert did not like submarines. They would be boarding HMS Anson at HMNB Clyde. The reason this base hadn’t been destroyed by the Salvads was because out of sheer luck it was empty during the landings. They would have to be there at exactly the right time, as the sub would only wait for twenty minutes maximum, before leaving to do the mission without them.
The journey would be about eleven hours. That meant eleven hours cramped inside a submarine, underwater. Because of course they would be submerged for the whole journey. It only made sense, after all.
This was going to suck.

Admiral Pyraxis was in an irritable mood. He’d had to learn the meaning of another Earth word: drunk. Then he had to learn the meaning of hangover. Then he spent more time than necessary examining the capacities of his own liver.
He knew he was letting the drink get to him. But he was too stressed, and needed a way to relax. He was still somewhat sure that it wasn’t affecting his decision making that much.
Picking up his communicator from the floor, he punched in a code, then held it up to his head.
“Report on the project.”
“Understood. I’m coming down to inspect it.”
Putting in a different code, he once again spoke into the device, “Prepare my shuttle for departure. Destination is Immunisation Facility 3.”

Robert decided if he survived this, he would never ride a submarine again. The boarding had gone like clockwork. He now had half a day to become acquainted with the rest of the team.
One guy stood out - he was wearing a gas mask and spoke with a muffled accent. Perhaps German?
“Guten Tag, Gentlemen. My name is Corporal Müller, but you may call me Tobias - I am in charge of this operation. We will split into three teams. In the hold are three backpacks - these have the bioweapon. I would be very careful not to drop them. The strongest guy in each squad will carry one. There are three main silos. Deploy the weapon, then get out. Any questions?”
Robert raised his hand, “Yeah, what's with the mask?”
“I wear this because I am hideously deformed! Ja, I was in France, and received a large dose of radiation from the…erm…fireworks. I have about five days until I suffer critical organ failure, so I figured I would go out on my own terms - in glorious combat!”
“Oh. Right.”
“I nearly forgot! Here, you all need to take a cyanide pill with you. We cannot risk anyone being captured,” he said, taking out a tray from behind him and enthusiastically offering the pills up to everyone.
Well, that's just wonderful. Robert took one and put it in his jacket pocket.
Robert acquainted himself with the rest of the team, and found somewhere to lie down. He knew it was going to be an arduous journey.

General Mathews stood dramatically at the head of his force. The wind was strong, but the surf was calm enough to board the boats. It was dark as well. He had requested a red cape for his speech, which was billowing behind him. It would have been a more potent image if it wasn’t so dark. As it was, he could barely see to the end of the crowd gathered before him.
There was no moonlight either - the strike had been carefully planned to take place under heavy cloud coverage. And so far, their luck had held. Standing on top of some crates, with a microphone connected to a meagre sound system, he puffed up his chest.
Tapping the mic, he winced as it squealed. Slapping it a couple more times, he began to speak.
“Before me, I do not see an army. I do not see the best of the best. I do not see heroes; for the heroes died in the first attack. They died on the front lines, charging into certain death. We are the ones who remain. And you ask yourself, what can a couple of thousand men do?”
“Fighting an enemy we cannot beat, with weapons we can’t match and resources we can’t equal, not for a thousand years. What is the point? Madness!”
“We are martyrs. The heroes have fallen long ago. It falls to us to do the dirty work. We are the ones who ask for no thanks and will go forgotten by all; but do not fear! Our actions stand in place of our identities, and they will echo through the annals of history, for today we take the fight to them! Today, we charge into the jaws of death, just like our countrymen, only this time we can win!”
“You heard me right! We can win this war. Our job is simple. Fight, and die. And God willing, our comrades will complete their mission, and sentence the invader to eternity whichever hell they belong in. Today, we die. This is not a battle we can possibly survive, but we will sure as hell fight. Remember those words of Churchill, spoken so many years ago.”
“Feel the defiance of humanity coarse through your veins! Cast your thoughts to the Greeks at Thermopylae, or our forefathers at Rorke’s Drift! Pavlov’s house! Invoke the spirit of Saragarhi! Remember the Guards’ last stand at Westminster, where the road ran slick with Salvad blood!”
“For today, we cast our die for a future we will never see, and children we will never meet! We will not go quietly into that good night! Rage! Rage against the dying of the light!” The men cheered, overpowering the scream of the air and the rage of sea.
“To arms!”
Adrenaline swells in tensed muscles.
“Blood will be spilled!”
The clatter of weapons ringing in ears.
“On this day, our blood will stain the streets!”
They don’t cheer now; they roar.
“The blood of Terra will flow!”
They surge forward to the boats, a force of nature, with the defiance of a cornered beast.
“Rise, defenders of Earth! From every corner of our planet you came, and to the seas you will return! Fear no death, for death is on your side! If this is to be the dying gasp of Humanity, then let it be the greatest last stand in history!”
And as the warriors boarded their craft, general Mathews tossed away the key to his jeep, and slipped into the crowd. Which was impressive, given his rather pompous appearance.

Jacob, an absolute unit of a man - who never seemed far from getting his huge frame stuck in the doorways - yelled down the length of the compartment we were staying in.
“Captain says fifteen minutes to drop site!”
Tobias stood and said, “All right gentlemen, gather your equipment and prepare yourselves - the sea is cold this time of year.” Robert froze. “We’re not landing?” Tobias laughed, then suffered a bout of wet coughs. Recovering, he looked up, “No. The submarine will drop us off as close as possible, and we will have to wade the rest of the way. Maybe swim a little.”
This day just kept getting worse and worse.
Admiral Pyraxis was having yet another argument with Krystak when an aide came with alarming news.
“I’m sorry?”
“It's immunisation site three, sir! They’re reporting an attack on the island!”
Krystak, ever the opportunist, spoke up. “Correct me if I'm wrong, admiral, but is that not the location of project-”
Pyraxis snapped.
“I KNOW, SHUT UP!”
Taking some time to gather his thoughts, he spoke in a more reasonable tone.
“Summon the Zirrack, get them on my shuttle.” The aide looked shocked, “Y-you’re going down there?”
“Yes, now hurry up.”
Pyraxis dismissed Krystak and marched to his shuttle, seething with rage. Obviously, there was no way the Humans could know about what was hidden under the facility. It was probably just a few militants trying to sabotage operations in Europe. However, it pays to be cautious - hence Pyraxis bringing the Zirrack Crimson Brigade, his personal bodyguard.
An elite unit made up of the best Salvad troops, subjected to genetic enhancement and wearing crimson ceremonial armour - which was very much not for show.

Robert waded through the breakers, soaked all up his back with ice-cold water. The whole group panned out, advancing slowly up the beach, rifles at the ready. Robert was using a British army L85A1, along with a Glock 19 as a sidearm. They all had NVGs, although they wouldn’t be massively effective considering advanced Salvad thermal-concealing clothing.
The surf was calm, and distant rumbling of the clouds could be heard. He wished he’d worn thicker socks to protect against the biting cold of the sea. Dead quiet, they ran up the sand and into the grass. The crackling of gunfire could be heard fairly close by.
Jacob glared at a sign. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe that this place is called Cronky Bing,” he whispered. Robert squinted at the sign, and sure enough, it read: Cronk y Bing Nature Reserve.
"At least we're where we need to be," Tobias said. "Now let's get moving."
The team began a careful march through the fields, towards their target at Jurby. Deploying his night vision, Robert could see the silhouette of the Silos to be targeted, a large building that must have been the factory, and some squat structures which were most likely barracks.
The gunfire became louder the closer they got, with erratic explosions keeping Robert on edge. The flash of muzzles and bright light of Salvad plasma weapons became visible, reflecting on the clouds. Advancing to the last hedgerow before the base itself, the team’s sniper and spotter set up, easily disappearing into the bushes thanks to their ghillie suits.
“Okay, everyone split up into your teams. One target for each team. Get in, deploy it, and get out,” Tobias said. “Do not destroy the silos. Best of luck.”
Splitting up, the teams sprinted towards the border fence of the complex. No Salvads were spotted until they were halfway there, but the moment weapons were raised, the sniper took them out in quick succession. Tobias led Robert’s team up the fence, where they cut a hole with bolt cutters and crawled through. Tobias motioned to spread out, while Jacob and a couple of others moved towards their designated silo. They would have to climb the ladder to the access port at the top in order to deploy the payload.
It was just as they reached the ladder that they all heard the hum of engines approaching.

“Where the fuck is the rest of Beta team?” Johnson yelled at Simmons.
“They must have been blown off course-”
Johnson cut him off, “How do you lose half your team? You're needed at full strength!”
“Calm down! They probably just landed further south than intended. I’ll take what men I have and we’ll just have to wait for the rest to catch up.”
Johnson seethed. But eventually, he just growled and ordered his men to move out. They had gathered in the centre of a little town called The Cronk, which lay about three kilometres south of the enemy compound. Alpha team set off at a brisk pace north, while the weakened Beta team moved northeast to cut off the Salvad route of reinforcements at St. Judes - reinforcing Salvad troops would most likely come along the main road from Ramsey on the east coast, where they would meet a nasty surprise.
And Charlie team were ordered to stay right where they were, and protect from an attack in the rear.
Johnson’s force lined the hedgerows facing Jurby. He had dispatched a portion of his force to secure the church sitting on a slight incline, which used to overlook the prison before it was demolished by the Salvads. Johnson checked his watch, then gave the order. Three rocket launchers fired into the base - two hitting guard towers, and the third hitting a barracks and caving in the roof.
Alarms blared, and Salvads rushed out - many without any of their armour - and frantically tried to find out where the attack was coming from. They were met with machine gun fire from the Humans. Johnson grinned as he watched swathes of enemies get mowed down. Hefting a grenade launcher, he began to help blow them to pieces. Gunfire at the church suggested that the squad sent there had encountered resistance.
His eyes bulged when a Salvad in the complex levelled the church with an anti-tank weapon.
That guy didn’t stay alive for long, as the marksmen among Alpha team exacted revenge. Once the shock of their attack began to wear off, deadly accurate return fire began to rain on them, plasma tearing through their superficial cover.
The real battle had started.

Meanwhile, Beta team managed to sneak unnoticed all the way to St Judes, where they laid their trap - landmines, hidden gun emplacements, the whole deal. Kicking in doors, they took up positions in windows and on roofs. Snipers spread out outside the village in the fields, ready to pick off any reinforcements.
It didn't take long for the call for help to reach Ramsey. It took even less time for the armoured response to come driving up the road.

Admiral Pyraxis gazed out his shuttle window at the storm clouds they were headed into. The power of nature on this planet was truly staggering to him. Of course he had seen storms back home, but those were gusts of wind compared to the thunderstorms here on Earth.
He felt the turbulence as his shuttle descended into the clouds, and part of him became nervous, just for a moment. He soon chastised himself; there was nothing to fear down there. So why did his gut tell him otherwise?
The shuttle smoothly landed at the Immunisation facility, where Pyraxis and his guard disembarked, only to be greeted with deafening gunfire far too close for comfort. As they walked away from the ship, it suddenly got hit with several successive blasts, tearing it apart. Pyraxis dove to the ground, shell shocked. Gathering himself, he screamed at the Zirrack, “Half of you, deal with those humans! Kill them all! The rest of you, with me.”
They silently obeyed, moving towards the sound of fighting. Pyraxis stormed into the facility's command centre, enraged. Barging into the control room, he searched for the base commander. Seeing him, the commander saluted, then - rather pointlessly - said “Sir! The base is under attack!”
Pyraxis glared at him. “I know. All the explosions gave it away.”“What should we do?” the commander stammered.
“What should- what are you, stupid? Deploy the garrison!”
The trembling commander blabbered his apology and scurried away.
Turning to the nearest worker, he ordered them to call in all the troops on the island. It was at this point that Pyraxis may have completely snapped. This is because a private burst into the room, and said, “Hostiles have breached the northern border!”
Suffice it to say, Pyraxis was not happy. Once he was done screaming at his subordinates, he ordered the inoculations extracted immediately to prevent their destruction.
Brandishing his pistol, he stormed out of the command centre with his guards. “Find the saboteurs. Prevent them from damaging anything.”

Robert never thought he would see a man physically tear a Salvad apart with his bare hands, but that is precisely what Jacob did. The victim was running towards the sounds of fighting, when Jacob jumped him from the side and went berserk. Robert stared with morbid fascination.
Moving through the compound, they easily overcame the few guards who stumbled upon them in quick fashion. Reaching the silo, Jacob and two other men began the climb up the ladder while the others secured the area.
“Contact, front! Multiple-”
A scream cut through the air as the speaker was blasted apart by plasma fire. Robert dove for cover, catching a glimpse of some red-clothed figures.
“Who the fuck are these clowns?” he yelled to Tobias, who shrugged from behind the crate he was using as cover.
Peaking around the corner of a wall, Robert saw who they were dealing with.
At least five. More?
He fired a burst at one, and swore upon seeing the rounds deflect harmlessly off of their armour. He motioned to Tobias to provide covering fire. Counting down with his fingers, he nodded at Tobias, and sprinted back through the facility. A couple of stray rounds flew near him as he ran. Finally, he saw what he needed.
A dead guard. And importantly, his weapon. It was worth seeing if it would have an effect. Running back to the fight with his newly liberated weapon, he hid at the edge of one of the barracks. From there, Robert saw Tobais loading an RPG. Quickly and efficiently, Tobias readied the weapon, and peaked round the corner.
Firing, he hit one of the red bastards point blank. It was not pretty - burning flesh and scraps of armour flew in all directions. The others did not like that, and began advancing, spraying fire at anything that moved, resulting in another guy’s head getting blown apart. Robert anxiously watched the group climbing the silo - they were about to be spotted. Pressing every button on the Salvad rifle until it seemed to work, he took a deep breath, and fired at the fancy dress fucks (as he had decided to name them). The first few hits did not penetrate their armour, but with several successive hits parts of the plate began to melt. So, it worked. They immediately returned fire, forcing Robert to duck back behind his corner.
He eyed the wall with fear as it began to melt under the pressure of enemy weaponry, and took a few steps back. He could still see the guys scaling the silo. They were just about to reach the top. Just a little further…
One of the Salvads saw them. It aimed its weapon up, and shot the man behind Jacob. He went tumbling down to the ground, the sickening splat of the impact echoing throughout the facility.
Gritting his teeth, Robert once again peeked from his cover to provide covering fire and distract the Salvads. As he ducked once more, a Salvad shot missed his head by a hair’s width, melting through the wall behind him.
He held his breath, watching Jacob pull himself and the payload up the last few rungs of the ladder. Enemy fire began to rain on them.
Come on…come on!
Just as it looked like Jacob would be hit, he pulled himself over the side and out of the enemy line of sight.

“Fuck! We need support over here!”
Johnson’s men had been repelled and were being forced back in the centre, with their hard-won position at the church’s ruins under threat of encirclement. Casualties were unknown, but high.
“It always sounds better in a speech.” Johnson muttered, “Oh, glory, saving humanity. I don’t see the general out here dying with us-”
Just then, he glanced over at the smouldering church, and saw a ridiculous looking figure, who appeared to be wearing some sort of cape...
“Oh, fuck me.”
He watched, dumbfounded, as general Mathews engaged Salvad troops in hand to hand combat with his bayonet. The fight was obscured by smoke as the general dramatically executed a downed Salvad. If a middle aged man with a bad back and a tendency to favour tea and biscuits over any kind of physical exertion could do that... what was Johnson waiting for?

Beta team was initially successful, destroying or disabling several armoured vehicles as they entered St. Judes in a single file convoy. However, the convoy recovered quickly, deploying their troops and demolishing every building in the town. The vehicles fanned out into the fields, where several more fell to landmines, but the rest were able to provide deadly fire support.
The members of Beta team who had landed too far south caught up only as the fighting began, and found themselves out of position and disorganised, with many fleeing in all directions and any semblance of order evaporating. Having levelled St. Judes, the armoured convoy resumed the drive to Jurby, albeit with significantly more caution.
Beta team radioed all other teams, alerting them of the breakthrough.
Charlie team was effectively holding back Salvad reinforcements in the south, having dug in at the Cronk and Ballaugh. Smith ordered guerrillas further inland to sabotage the Salvad communication array, and succeeded before anyone was the wiser. Salvad armoured columns from Peel lay burning, dotted across the landscape.
This favourable state of affairs only lasted until enemy air support arrived.
It was a slaughter.

“Can we get more men from Charlie team?” Johnson radioed, only to have his spirits sunk as the news came through.
Charlie team had been destroyed by enemy air strikes. Soon after, Simmons radioed to say that Beta team had been smashed, and were retreating.
Johnson’s heart sank. He probably had less than half his own men left, and enemies were closing in on all sides. He sincerely hoped that the mission had been successful.

Jacob yanked open the hatch to the silo, and deployed the payload without further thought, holding his breath as he did so. Tying a rope from his pack to a rail, he repelled down the side of the silo as quickly as possible, immediately taking cover. His comrade was not so lucky, getting shot on his way down. Jacob sprinted to find the others, cursing as a shot grazed his side, sending him sprawling on the ground.

Vice admiral Krystak had a solemn look on his face. Before him were the rest of the Salvad high command, all recalled for an emergency meeting.
“It seems our leader has gotten himself in quite some trouble. We have no communications, and satellite imaging is obscured by the storm. We have no idea the scale of the attack on Immunisation site three, or the status of Admiral Pyraxis. We must consider him compromised. Would you agree?”
Carefully neutral expressions and subtle nods all around.
Perfect.
“In these exceptional circumstances, we must take precautions. It is stipulated that the Vice Admiral must assume the position of Admiral in such circumstances. Agreed?”Careful nods all around. Nobody spoke up.
“As such, does the council agree to grant me the title of Admiral and the powers that come with it, in order to rectify the situation?”
They all looked at each other. Then, one by one, nodded in agreement.
“Then let us make haste. I presume you are all aware of Pyraxis’s little project buried under the facility. The research there must not be discovered by the Humans. As such, I move to allow the retrieval of all usable material from the facility, and to order the subsequent destruction of the facility to prevent a security breach. All in favour?”
The Salvad’s gathered looked weary, but soon crumbled under peer pressure.
All agreed. A rational decision, given the information available. They all knew it was a thinly veiled coup, and none wanted to put a target on themselves.
Krystak, now the Admiral and commander of all Salvad operations in Sol, growled softly as he revelled in his victory.
The foresight of the ambitious is often lacking.

Robert watched as the cargo haulers flew in, barely stopping as they lifted the entire silos, and then flying away at top speed. A few half-hearted pot shots were taken at them to reinforce the notion that the Salvads had foiled the dastardly human plan.
It had been a close thing. They hadn’t expected the Salvads to order an accelerated extraction. Robert now hid inside one of the barracks with a couple of others, including Tobias - who was methodically taping a claymore to his chest.
He stopped what he was doing when he heard a clatter somewhere far off, followed by the sound of footsteps.
Robert held his breath. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he tensed, ready to run.
He could hear their chatter. By the sound of their movements, they had panned out and were searching every nook and cranny.
Gripping his rifle with white knuckles, he waited for the nearest footsteps to near even more, before charging out of cover. Firing his stolen weapon in a continuous burst into the Salvad’s face, forcing him back. The plasma melted the faceplate, and boiled the Salvad inside - evidenced by its' screaming.
Hunched over to avoid the fire of the other Salvads, Robert sprinted to the body and extracted a knife from one of its pockets. The knife had an ornate design, and a thin glowing red rim along the edge. The balance felt completely off.
Diving behind a toppled bunk, Robert tried to make himself as small as possible. A stray enemy shot scorched the side of his abdomen, the intense heat instantly cauterising the wound. A few centimetres to the right, and he would be trying to stop his organs from falling out.
“Fuck!”
A small chunk of flesh had been carved away by the shot, and he screamed as his fried nerve endings made their displeasure known.
“Bitch!”
He half ran, half stumbled through the barracks, crashing through the first doorway he saw. On the other side was a slope, heading down into a lower level. With the sound of fighting, he saw no choice but to go further down. It looked like a laboratory of some sort, with pristine white walls and ceilings. Robert wandered into a vast chamber, where human bodies lay on operating tables in various states of dissection, with more suspended in vats filled with a sickly green liquid. Pausing to take this all in, Robert promptly vomited, and ran in another direction.He was determined to get out of that awful place as soon as possible. Hearing footsteps behind him, he threw himself onto the floor behind a cabinet to hide. Stolen gun at the ready, he strained his ears for any sign of the enemy.He didn’t have to wait long. Striding into the room, three of the red-clothed-pricks fanned out. Sneaking a look, he saw one of them wasn’t wearing a helmet - sign of a comically arrogant superior officer. They were speaking.
The officer sounded angry.
Taking his chance, he peaked his weapon around the cabinet, and nailed one of the soldiers in the head. He crumpled to the floor instantly. The other one, not missing a beat, spun and fired at Robert, forcing him to cower behind the rapidly melting cabinet.
Crawling to the other end, he peaked again, and was able to shoot the soldier’s weapon, disabling it. Unfortunately for Robert, his bad luck once more reared it’s ugly head, and the Salvad rifle stopped working.
Out of charge?
Casting the spent weapon aside, he charged the Red Salvad. *Where's the officer?*All too late, he realised his mistake. As he body-slammed the Salvad, the officer appeared from behind a wall, pistol raised. Robert’s “borrowed” Salvad knife found its way into his grip, and the glowing edge of the blade burrowed through the Salvad’s armour. Robert twisted it into the Salvad’s neck, severing the spine, and shoving the now-deceased body to the ground.
This left him facing off with the officer. Perhaps Robert had seen too many films, as he expected some kind of evil speech. Instead, the officer shot him, and he fell down.
He entered a world of pain, body convulsing on the floor. The once-pristine tiles were rapidly changing colour around him. It felt like some of him was missing. Taking a look at the damage, he wished he hadn’t. His brain sort of stopped working at this point, overwhelmed and high on adrenaline.
Robert fumbled for his Cyanide pill as the Salvad strolled over.
In the corner of his eye, he saw a shape appear at the door in the back. A human, covered with burns and scorched flesh underneath torn uniform. A distinctive gas mask adorned his face. The individual raised a pistol with shaking arms, and fired.
A single bullet hit the Salvad in the neck, spewing a fountain of blood in front of him. The Slavad cried out, and fell flat on his face.
Tobias limped over and kneeled beside Robert.
“Hey, I got you. Look at me. I got you.” he said, panting.
“And here I was, thinking… you were dead, Toby.”
“Heh, I very nearly was. Those freaks had a flamethrower! Here, let me help you up.”
Grunting, Tobias lifted Robert by the arm, supporting his weight. After a bit of rearranging themselves, the two limped their way back into the barracks. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, and the building was on fire and filling with smoke.
Kicking down the door to the outside, they stumbled out into the fresh sea air. The sound of battle could still be heard far off, though they paid it no heed. Stumbling away from the base, the pair made the short journey to the beach.
Robert lay down, and Tobias kneeled beside him. “What time do you think it is?” asked Robert. The Sun was just beginning to rise, with a few rays penetrating the morning sky. The storm had cleared, replaced wth a hesitant blue.
“Not a clue,” Tobias wheezed. The waves were breaking mere metres away from their feet, lapping at the shore and blissfully uncaring of the violence occurring inland.
“Just hold on a little longer. I think we’ll get to see a sunrise, of a sort.” said Robert. His gaze was fixed at a point just above the horizon. From that little point, a speck of light was rapidly growing, heading right for them.
They joined hands, clasping each other in a tight grip.
Here, the man who fought out of spite lay. Next to him, the man who fought out of habit. Both were terrified of dying. Both were now too tired to care. Bleeding and hurting, they finally rested. Their war, at least, was over.
Jacob had died just a few minutes earlier, in the fight in the barracks.
Pyraxis did not die when he was shot in the neck, as the bullet missed his airpipe. He stumbled out a different exit, only to see the sky brighten. Ironically, the killing blow was dealt by his own people. This irony was not lost on him.
The entire island was destroyed, every living thing perishing under orbital bombardment, leaving a crater and no evidence of the deeds done there, heroic or cowardly.
Save for its legacy, in the form of plague the likes of which the Salvad’s had never witnessed.
Author’s note:
I think this may be some of my best work yet. I put a lot of effort into the concepts and -especially- detailing the attack, which I’m quite proud of. It was a bit slower than I wanted getting this one done due to external factors, but I managed it in the end. Given how long it’s ended up, perhaps I should have split it up more, but oh well. I’d like to say thank you to anyone and everyone who took an interest in this little series - the support means a lot to me. If you read this far, thank you.

 I never thought I would find myself needing to recount the events that transpired during my childhood. 

When the idea of typing this came about, I didn’t think I would even be able to find the words to describe them. However, maybe due to recent contact with the government, the memories I had long buried in the dusty recesses of my memory have dug themselves up and crawled back into the light of my mind’s eye in vivid detail. Now that I am free to speak, and now that I have summoned the courage to, my message to you, especially the parents among you is this, do not leave your children at Sunny Smiles Daycare.
I was about 4 when my parents divorced. It was a long, arduous process, full of broken promises and uncomfortable truths. My mother had left a year prior, off to Vegas to be with her lover who would fly over on weekends and destroy my parent’s of holy matrimony. It took quite a toll on my father. He was never very present in the going on of my life, and while he tried, an awkwardness had formed between us, a chasm that made it difficult to do much of anything. It was ever present, both of us trying to cope with the tender void left in the wake of my mother.
We tried to fill it with each other, but our relationship wasn’t strong enough to bear the weight of my mom’s departure. Adding on to this was that most of the day he was gone, working to keep the roof we had over our heads. He hired a slew of nannies to fill the empty days his job made, but I always complained about them. I felt like a stranger in my own life, with people I didn’t know making themselves at home in the house that felt foreign to me now. I really just wanted my mom and dad back, for them to come together, forgive each other in a heartfelt bout of passion, and make time for me in their lives again. But as a child, I quickly learned to stifle my hopes and stopped believing in such silly fairy tales.
My father felt guilty about the whole thing, I could see it in his eyes. Even back then I knew the look of someone trying their best and failing. It was the look my mother gave me every time she came home late on a Saturday night, a crestfallen look of disappointment in not me or my father, but herself. She had promised me that everything would be okay, that the fighting wasn’t anything but grown-up talk. “A family,” she said, “always stays together”. But soon, all I got was promises that didn’t lead anywhere. The two of them made so many promises that if they were worth anything, I’d have been the richest kid in the world.
But all I got was a trip to a daycare, a way for my father to remedy this guilt, to distance himself from the reminder of all the promises he had failed to keep.
According to his searches from the time, he stumbled upon Sunny Smiles Daycare in his search, seeing it was new, very close by. It had only been open for a month and had nothing but five star reviews, with no justification as to the rating under any of the comments. When looking at their website, it is described as a “government owned amenity here to serve families in need. We are expanding everyday, and with the help of certain patrons we have expanded to the national level”. According to the FBI, whom which I have spoken to at length about my experiences, no federal or state funds from any agency were allocated to construct a national daycare system. However, there is documentation from congressional records of a meeting of the Committee of Education and the Workforce passing an anonymous bill into Congress to be voted on. When interviewed, none of the members of the committee recalled voting on such a bill, and no record of whether the bill was ratified or not was found.
One night, my father called for me from the ground floor. I cautiously maneuvered down the long, spiral stairs, gripping tightly onto the railing so as not to tumble down the treacherous staircase, my fear of heights taking hold even at such a young age. As I rounded the stairs, I saw my father standing in the living room, hands on his hips, tapping his foot rapidly. He had come home in a gray suit, tailored to his filled out build, with neat, dark hair combed over to hide his large, reflective forehead. As I completed my descent, my father turned to me, a smile so wide that the strain was practically audible on his face. I didn’t think much of it then, if anything I was happy that my father finally showed me something other than his inner struggles.
“Hey buddy, guess what we are gonna do tomorrow?” he said, his smile practically bursting out of his face.
“What?” I asked, his excited expression acting as a pathogen of enthusiasm.
“Tomorrow, you're going to go to a new place. It’s called Sunny Smiles Daycare. It’s a place where you can make tons of new friends. Isn’t that exciting?” he led me on in the way that parents do. I was confused.
“Sunny Smiles Daycare,” I repeated hollowly, spitting the words out due to their funny taste in my mouth.
“Will you come with me?” I asked tentatively, bracing for disappointment.
“No buddy, they don’t let grown-ups like me in. It’s just for you kids. But hey, I bet you're gonna have so much fun that you’ll forget all about me. I bet you won’t even want to leave,” he promised, trying to redirect the impact of his answer. I had heard the same speech often. Every time he laid down some shiny new thing at my feet, hoping to placate me with sacrifices like I was some bloodthirsty deity, he tried to convince me that this time, the hole bored into my heart would finally be filled with this cheap, flashy toy. And for the most part, I went along with it, both to find salvation in something frivolous and to ease my father’s own guilty demons. And this was no different. In as excited a voice I could muster I replied “I can’t wait!” The smile he wore shrunk a bit, but in turn, it looked much less plastic, and more real, a warmth returning to his features.
“I’m glad little man. You hungry?” I nodded vigorously.
“Great, what do ya want?”
“Dino nuggets,” my favorite.
My father nodded, before rushing off to the kitchen in order to prepare a gourmet serving of dino nuggets. I followed, clumsily running to catch up to him, desperate for the warmth of his smile once more.
“How your day go?” I asked rather clumsily. I had learned the basic abcs and enough words to speak, but the construction of sentences was something I had struggled with. I rarely talked at all and didn’t get many chances to do so.
“It was great, bud! I talked to a lady at the daycare we are gonna go to tomorrow, and she said they have over 50 kids there! They’ve got coloring books and dollies and even a playground inside! They’ve got books and paint an-” I started to tune out. He was still trying to sell me on the whole daycare thing. That was all he talked about the rest of the night, describing every detail of the place to me. Looking back, even then, I felt a deep sense of restlessness each time he mentioned the name of the place. The feeling only grew more exacerbated the longer the night went on, chasing away sweet thoughts of sleep. Some of it was nerves, going from 1 stranger a day to 50 was certainly a big leap. But part of it was something I can’t explain in any other way than a premonition, a warning from a natural instinct that laid long dormant in me came screaming to the surface. I did not sleep well that night. The morning of, my father woke me up early, saying that he needed to get to work, but would drop me off at the daycare on the way. I obliged, changing out of my Lightning McQueen onesie into tiny jeans and a brown and white striped shirt with a large smiling monkey face on the front. Monkeys were my favorite animal, mainly because they liked bananas just as much as I did. I did my daily duties of brushing my teeth, and messing around with my hair until I was happy with the ratty mess I had made. I once again fearfully journeyed down the stairs. My dad was tapping his foot at the bottom of the stairs, annoyance instead of excitement being the cause.
“Come on bud, we gotta get going or I’m gonna be late,”. he says, as if his meaningless deadline would incentivize me to overcome my fear and move faster.
I reach the bottom step, where my dad promptly scoops me up in his arms, and with his briefcase and a backpack in hand, we speed out of the house. We fly down the stairs leading down from the large wooden porch, my father gripping onto the black metal railing so as not to slip on the cliff-like stairs. He snaked through the cobblestone pathway that led from our stairs to the driveway. Both were in rough condition. Crabgrass riddled the grooves in the path, and the asphalt had long, outstretched cracks that had formed due to the roots of a nearby sycamore tree undermining the pavement. The lawn was an unkempt jungle of overgrown grass, weeds, dandelions, and mushrooms. Dad used to mow it once a week in the summer, but the habit had fallen off in the past year.
Dad threw open the back door of the red minivan, and quickly strapped me into the ragged, stained car seat. He clumsily struggled with the seatbelt, his inexperience with morning procedures on full display. He finally resigned himself, tying the belt straps together into a tight knot that compressed harshly on my chest. I remember my breathing being shallow during the majority of the ride. With me secured, he threw the backpack over next to me, closed the door, and got in the front seat.
“Dad, I don’t go,” I said. “I don’t like,”
“Why buddy? We haven’t even gotten there yet,” Dad asked, his voice rising in pitch, as he started the ignition.
“I don’t like,” I repeated, louder and firmer this time.
“Why don’t you just give it a few days, just two or three days, and if you truly hate it, then we’ll find a different place okay sweetie?” He asked, forcing his voice to smooth out, as we turned out of our bumpy driveway and started off. There wasn’t much I could do after that. He did not respond well to temper tantrums, and I knew that it would not end well for either of us if I started yelling. He was too jumpy, and didn’t have the long fuse constructed over many long nights of staying awake with your kid.
Once, I dropped a glass of orange juice. The glass shattered in a loud crackle, like thunder mixed with pop rocks, and they scattered away from the initial blast, in fear of the storm that was barreling down the stairs.
“What happened?!” my father yelled as he stomped through the house. I realize now that his shouting was out of concern more than anger, but as a child, it’s hard to tell the difference when someone is screaming at you. I looked up at him, fat watery tears streaming down my face as I bawled loudly, practically shouting myself.
My dad grabbed a handful of paper towels, and started roughly padding my fuzzy blue shirt.
“Are you hurt?” he yelled again, voice wavering. This only made my cries louder, bordering on hysterical now as I continued to blubber.
My dad grunted in strained frustration. He combed his hair frantically, eyes darting around wildly, completely overwhelmed by the scene before him. Unable to take my wailing any longer he leaned down, grabbed me by the arm, and shook me violently.
“Are you hurt!” He screamed, shocking me into silence.
I stood stunned. My dad quickly removed his hands from me, purple bruises welding up along my arms like bad tattoos.
“I’m sorry bud, I thought you were hurt and you wouldn’t answer me and I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry,”. It was all he could say. I made sure not to scream or cry around him from then on.
We drove for about 10 minutes, before a large, pastel building of soft blues, yellows, and greens came into view. I knew about 5 minutes before it came into view where it was, my face retracting further into the car seat, as if bracing for a bomb to fall.
It was a massive building. The front looked normal enough, a box almost entirely made of windows aside from the wiry wooden frame separating them, and the large fluorescent red door surrounded by a black wooden outline. This was partially obscured by large red brick pillars that held up a concrete awning. Behind that, stood a massive dome, like an igloo made out of yellow snow. Sun patterns covered the dome-like orange polka dots.
The building unnerved me. Something about it wasn’t quite right, like my father’s own strained smile. It looked like it was trying too hard, trying to look like what all parents wanted to see when they dropped their kids off.
“See?” My father said from the front seat, fake excitement dripping from his voice.
“It looks so fun!” he said. He was fishing for an enthusiastic response, but all I could muster was quiet indifference.
We turned into the lot, navigating through the crowded rows of cars, parked haphazardly. Every spot was filled. A long line of cars slowly advanced next to the concrete curve, advancing toward the dropping-off points. Other cars, though, stopped where they were, and removed their kid from the car seat. Some didn’t even have them in car seats, and simply stopped while the kids got out themselves. The kids looked scared, sad, and hurt, the latter of which I could identify with. It was the look I often felt myself giving when I was being forgotten or I was alone. The former two, I would soon come to know quite well.
As soon as the door closed, the car would speed out from the line and out of the lot. Even strangers were kids who walked from the parking lot. These kids all had filth-splotched faces, torn-up rags for clothes, thin hair, and hollow eyes. They walked slowly, without regard for the honking cars and disapproving looks from parents who had almost hit them. They didn’t even look up as they filed into the daycare. My dad chimed in.
“Oh poor kids. How can a parent watch their child go out into the world like that? Is no one feeding them?” He muttered under his breath in an angry tone. He hated seeing the cries of those who were suffering go unanswered, especially children. It was why he became a doctor.
The cars slowly moved, dropping their kids off one by one, some making more of a ceremony of it than others. Stifled tears, verklempt looks, and the all too familiar fake smiles were all congregated at the entrance to the daycare. Guardian to said entrance stood two women, garbed in an all-white dress, apron, and gloves with silver hair and peculiar white hats. It looked like one of those paper hats kids made, but it was made of cloth and like her, stood at stiff attention and bore an opaque smiling face. They were surrounded by a flock of frantic parents, each desperately commanding their attention with little facts about their special angle. Allergies, snack preferences, and in the case of some, medication were all conveyed with deathly urgency. Dad stopped the car, turning to me and smiling. Not an insincere one, but one of sympathy and comfort.
“It’s gonna be okay sweetie. I know this has all been so much for you, so thank you for being so brave with me,” he promised. I smiled back in turn, meaning it this time.
He then exited the car, came around to the backseat, and untied me from the car seat. He grabbed the backpack and carried me over to the cement awning that shaded the walkway.
He carried me over to the two ladies, past the line of fellow downtrodden children, and dropped me a few feet away from the crowd of squawking parents.
“Hold on just a second now sweetie, I’ll be right back,” he said. I stood awkwardly, trying as much as I possibly could to fold into myself as the limp bodies of my peers stumbled past me, all light-looking to have long left their eyes. One was different though. A young girl in a pink and red polka-dotted dress with an accompanying bow in her soft ginger hair to match. She was holding a small, beaten-up brown patchwork teddy bear with its left eye missing. The back of it was torn open, stuffing flopping out of it. Around her neck was a collar of raspy, raw skin, like some wild animal had tried to tear out her jugular with its claws. She had pretty green eyes which continued to glance at me as she passed. Right before she went through the red door, she hesitated, turned around, and quickly waddled over to me. She placed her face incredibly close to me, and I recoiled out of shock. I could still make out her whispers though, “When they ask, don’t tell,”.She quickly turned away, glancing back at me with worried eyes. I looked after her, confused and more scared than before. As my eyes wandered, I looked up to one of the women answering parental questions, and she continued to do so. However, her eyes were transfixed to the polka-dot girl, and once she entered the daycare, they shifted to me. It was what I could only describe as a friendly stare, or at least, one that appeared to be. She looked like she was sizing me up. I held her gaze for only a second, and wished I hadn’t even done that. I commanded my eyes to look anywhere, anywhere but the woman’s shriveled, pit-like eyes that begged for my attention. My eyes traced out the outline of the red door, slowly taking in each groove and scratch that thick coats of paint weren’t able to cover. As I looked above the red gate, I was greeted with words scrawled at the top in shaky black letters. I didn’t know what I said then, but looking back I do now. They read “Welcome to Home”.
“Calvin, come here!” my dad said, snapping me out of my awkward stare. I shuffled over to my dad, reaching out and clinging to his arm. Both of the silver-haired women turned to look at me, moving through the crowd of parents with polite “excuse me’s” and “let us pass for a moment’s”, all while not taking their eyes off of me. They strode over to my dad, one addressing my dad and the other bending down to my level, still staring at me. She bent perfectly straight at the hips, but went down no further, her face mere millimeters from mine. I shrunk closer to my father, who was seemingly too preoccupied talking about my peanut allergy to notice the creepy woman staring at his kid.
“What is your name?” She asked. I pressed even further away from her due to her voice, which scratched at my ears like sandpaper. I remembered what the polka-dot girl said, and did everything in my power to not give her an answer, instead tugging on Dad’s pant leg, pleading for his attention.
“What is your name?” She probed again, this time her voice only a supple whisper. I almost couldn’t stop myself as my name rushed up my throat like hot vomit I needed to choke back. It was like she had reached her hand into my brain and was massaging it, hoping to coax out an answer. I knew she knew already, she had heard my dad call it only a few moments ago. But she wanted me to say it, to hear the word escape my lips. I was afraid to speak at all because if I did, I knew my name would come out. I didn’t even know what would happen, but the visceral fear I had of what might happen kept my lips sewn shut.
I tugged more and more desperately on my father’s leg, but he didn’t even look at me. He was still talking to the silver woman about who knows what. Who knows what he was telling her?
“What is your name?” the lady asked again, this time grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I tried to yank my hand away, but her grip was vice-like. She clamped down hard, I was sure a bruise would form. Looking back now, she likely knew that out of what she could do then, that would hurt the most. My eyes darted around, my brain overwhelmed by a gut-wrenching fear that poured into me from the woman’s touch. It was so cold I couldn’t feel my arm anymore, and the numbing sensation was spreading quickly. I looked for anyone, any adult who could see what was happening and put a stop to it, but everyone seemed to be conveniently occupied with something else. Time seemed to slow down and warp, leaving just me and the woman in our pocket of isolation. Voices faded out into warped chirping. I couldn’t tell you what they were saying, but with every passing moment, they got louder and louder. Numbing fear spread all throughout my body, reaching up and crawling into my mouth and swelling my tongue, pushing back the scream that was clawing its way up my throat. My eyes began to go numb, and the tears that welled up froze over my eyes blocking my vision. They were being squeezed like oranges being juiced. My arms and legs froze and turned weak, brittle enough that a gust of wind would shatter them. Slowly, I could sense my heartbeat getting slower and slower.
“You ready buddy?” My father’s coarse hand tapped my shoulder, and the glass bubble of nightmares that surrounded me and that woman shattered. Time came roaring back and all the pressure inflicted on my feeble body vanished, and the woman hastily stood up. Tears sprung free from their icy barrier as I turned to my father and looked up.
“Hey, woah, buddy what’s wrong? What’s going on?” he bent down to me, clumsily wiping away my tears. All I could do was shake my head vigorously, lips still quivering. I tried to speak but I knew the woman was still staring at me. I could feel her gaze honed in on the back of my head like a laser. As long as her eyes were fixed on me, I didn’t dare speak. Even now, I feel dizzy, my name on the tip of my tongue.
“We see this type of display daily. Children and caretakers alike are so rarely prepared to be separate. It’s an emotional moment, but we have found that adversity only ends in growth and prosperity for the pair” one of the women says, a sugary sweetness now oozing from her demeanor.
“Don’t worry buddy, your guardian will be back, and while he is attending to his duties, you will have the honor of being a part of our family,” the other silver-haired woman says, turning to me with a toothy grin. Most of her words were too big for me to understand. Though, I doubt I would need to hear her speak to understand. The stares they would give us were all we needed to know what they were saying, and yet they still put us through the torture of their scratchy speech.
“We are extremely excited to meet you!” the pair said in unison.
“You sure you're okay, bud?” Dad asked again, still not convinced. With both of them looking at me now, there was no way I was saying anything. I sent a pleading look to my dad, hoping that my covert correspondence wouldn’t go unnoticed. But apparently, my own father didn’t know me well enough to see how shaken I really was. He gave me a final look of sorry, before he bent down, gave me a tight hug, stood up, and handed me the backpack. Then he began to depart
“Listen buddy I’ll see you tonight. I put all your favorite stuff in that bag okay? I love you so much.” His voice wavered a bit, coughing a bit to try and regain composure. He looked at me, torn, between what he wanted to believe and what he could see. All I could do was stand there and watch my father throw his only son to the wolves. He walked back to the car, buckled in, and gave me a final look of a wide smile with conflicting, tear-soaked eyes, before exiting the line of cars and driving off.
An overwhelming wave of dread washed over me as I watched my lifeline drift away. Questions raced through my head, “When would he come back? Would he forget to come? How long can I not say my name for?”
I could feel them loom over me, like unwanted shadows creeping through the night.
“Come, it is time for you to enter,” the lady said, the sweetness now draining from her voice and face. A reproachful look now adorned her face. She stiffly pointed to the door, likely knowing that the meaning of her words was lost on me. I turned and made my way into the line of children still marching towards the gateway, dragging my feet. The gate itself seemed to pull me closer like death reaching its hand out from a coffin. The two ladies returned to their posts beside the door, dutifully tending to the needs of apprehensive parents. They made a last call, saying “All parents must deposit their offspring to the daycare. Activities are about to begin”.

Hello! Im currently 10 days post op after gum graft surgery (20F) on my two front lower teeth. So far i've had no pain from either the graft site nor donor site (roof of my mouth). I get my sutures removed in 4 days and i'm wondering when I can go back to eating normally? As in biting into things.
Also wondering what my gum graft should be looking like right now. It is currently mostly pink which i think is a good thing? However it doesn't really look like its changed much from before.
if someone could let me know that would be awesome. Thanks!

Ponder the Frorb
Description Main characters~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Skyler Amethyst Corgi(main character, they/all) a crystalline being who gains different powers for different emotions, a monster hunter. acted by @Dark-water83, or Skylerthecorgi on YT
Fog ? Lofthouse(sidekick, he/they) Cute lil' Witch who is skilled in alchemy, very frequently makes witty comments. He can use his magic for fire crap. voiced by @XenonPigeon, the one who made this desc.
Donut Aries Sprinkleton(in most episodes, but not AS frequent as Skyler or Fog she/her) Demon. Yes, a Demon. uh clad with frosting and sprinkles, she just does stuff like steal people's blankets. acted by my friend Summer (or Summer Star on tiktok)
Sin Hades --.-(as frequent as Donut, he/they/?) an introverted nicer demon. He isn't really friends with the others, but he appears randomly.
Secondary characters~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Principal Whiskers
a cat in a wagon with a translator collar.
voiced by @XenonPigeonl again
Mrs Carroll
old, evil, abusive ELA teacher. based on my old ELA teacher (I have a better one now) voiced by summer
Mrs Olga
nice math teacher. could very well be a stand up comedian. voiced by my gramma
Mrs Henderson
Mrs Carroll but not as old and also a science teacher. voiced by... @XenonPigeon ????
Vice Principal Johnson
used to be a wrestler.
ripped.
likes blueberry pancakes.
an obvious ripoff of Dwane "the Rock" Johnson. voiced by my dad cuz why not
Tiffany
works at The Fiddlers as a cashier
owns a cactus if anyone tries to find the secret menu (store policy) voiced by summer
Stormwick
the villain
voiced by @dark-water83
Journey
Magic duck
Voiced by @XenonPigeon
Luci
Hades
Voiced by lucy
The Bri'Ish guy
he's British alright. voiced by @XenonPigeon
Places~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Surfaceton
the place where everyone lives
a parallel of Saint louis in real life
Buttercup Marsh
right outside of Oddlywood is a marsh
not a parallel
where Fog lives
Snugglebean Cafe
a capybara/cat/weasel Cafe
if "Made by Lia's" had snuggly animals
best coffee in all of the Cobalt Isles
Oddlywood Northish Middle
the only middle school with a cat for a principal(Principal Whiskers)
Fiddler's
white castle. that's it it's just white castle
AYYYYYY TONNAAYYYYYY
the pizza place.
really good wings
just marco's pizza(if you know their wings you know)
Ep1, “Ponderers.”
{narrator}
Imagine a world, where humans don’t exist. That’s it. Okay fine, maybe you want more, uhhhhhh where to start where to start…. Oh! Okay here we go
A long long time ago, around the summer of ‘83, not only was there the showdown between Richard and Lazy Larry, but also a magical artifact in a cave, in a town, on an island, on an archipelago appeared, and this artifact was the Frorb, created by the great and almighty Frogus (who isn’t important at the moment) so I assume you want to see the story behind this thing, well no. but you get this!
{end of narration}
{text on screen says “Present Day (~2024ish)”}
The screen shows multiple fight clouds in a cave, with the sun in sunglasses and a sunhat just wears his usual concerned grin and in the middle-bottom is the Frorb
A crystal brunette, a blondie, another blondie, and a shadowy figure walk into the cave, take the Frorb, and just… walk out of the cave.
{cut to their treehouse}
[the brunette with crystals growing out of their body] shifting in their chair “so… we just…-”
[the one with curly blond hair] looking concerned and excited “Took an ancient artifact from a cave while nobody was looking thus committing grand larceny? Yeah.”
[the blond with horns and slightly longer hair] “that was an impressive feat for a bunch of middle schoolers to pull off”
[The one that is a shadowy being, and two floating circle hands] “we should hide this”
{the group of friends quickly scrambles to find a place to hide the artifact before}
[Frorb(AKA the artifact)] makes a high pitched chirp like a baby frog
{everyone “Awwwwww”s, including the cops who just showed up}
the middle schoolers yelp and try to escape, but treehouses only have two exits, and one is the windows, so they get caught and taken to juvie, and the artifact gets confiscated, but sitting around is pretty much just the exact same thing that its been doing for 41 years.
Cut to jail, where the group of kids are in a cell
prison bars clank
the curly-haired-blond starts playing a harmonica
[the brunette smacks the curly-blond} “Stopit Fog! we need a way to get outta here!}
[Fog(the curly-haired-blond)] “We have a 30-day no bail sentence Skyler, the only thing we can do is wait”
[Skyler (the brunette)] “then we need to break out, Donut, Sin, we need ideas!”
[Donut(horned blond)] “Summon Grom, king of the dimension dimension?”
[Fog] “we need trans-dimensional knowledge for that”
[Sin(being)] “uhh, what about breaking the bars?”
[Skyler] “no, we’re too weak”
[Fog] “Oooh I know!” he rips off Skyler’s crystal arm - don’t worry, it regrows - then he turns the arm into a pickaxe and destroys the brick wall
[Skyler] “OWW! WHY DID YOU-!?”
[Fog] “RUNNN!!!!”
The friends booked it outta there.
[Donut] (cartoon SCREECH!) “WAIT! We need to get the Frog back!”
[Skyler] “We just escaped jail, why should we get the artifact back”
[Fog] “did you not hear the chirp? It’s obviously sentient”
[Skyler] “but we-!”
[Fog] starts yapping about plans as they walk back to the treehouse
As they enter the treehouse they all start planning, even Skyler, who was convinced to by Donut and Fog, who love cute little critters.
[Fog] “Okay, let’s go over the plan, so we break in through the roof and find the confiscated items bucket, and the artifact, who we still need to name, but we can do that when we get them back, they deserve opinions.”
[Skyler] “Okay, let’s go.”
Cut to the roof of juvie
[Skyler] turns hand into a pickaxe and breaks through
They throw down a rope and Sin goes down, grabs the artifact, and leaves
[Skyler and Fog] in unison “well, that was easy.”
Cut to treehouse
[Fog] “Froggo?”
[Donut] “no, how about Mr Croaks?”
[Fog] “we don’t know their gender, oh!” looks at the artifact “how about Frorb?”
[Donut] “Frorb?”
[Fog] “Frog orb”
[Frorb (the artifact)] (Happy chirp)
[Fog] “They like it!”
[Skyler] “O-K?”
[Sin] under breath “Just roll with it”
[Skyler] under breath “alllllllriiiight?”
Episode ends
Ep. 2, “The Secret menu. Mm that's good!”
{Narrator}
Welcome back to Oddlywood! Wait, I didn’t tell you that the town was called Oddlywood? Darn, I didn’t explain a lot of stuff. Well screw you.
{end of narration}
The camera pans to the group of friends trying to pick a lock, as skyler locked himself out of his apartment
[skyler] “it’s no use, we should just grab some food and break down the door”
[Fog] “i heard about a secret menu over at Fiddler’s, maybe we can get that”
[Donut] “sure”
[sin] appears and says “how’d we get the menu?”
[Fog, Donut, and Skyler all yelp]
Cut to the Fiddler’s, a fast food restaurant
[Fog] “So should we just… ask?”
[Skyler] “yeah i’ll try” walks up to the counter “how do we get the secret menu?”
[Tiff(the cashier)] Throws a cactus at Skyler’s face. luckily it missed
[The rest of the group] disappears in various directions and ways, such as jumping out of the window(fog), or descending back down to the under(Donut) or just recreating that disappearing meme(Sin)
[Skyler] books it out of the door
[cut to the treehouse]
[Skyler] “Who else do we ask?”
[Donut] with a sinister look on her face “I know a guy”
[Skyler] “oh cool what’s their name?
[Donut] “Lucy”
Cut AGAIN to the underworld
[Lucy (the devil)] “Oh hey Donut, how’s it hangin?”
[Skyler] “YOU KNOW THE DEVIL!?”
[Donut] “Yeah”
[Fog] “He seems pretty cool!”
[Skyler] just paralyzed
[Donut] “so do you know the secret menu for Fiddler’s? We need some cheap food so we can bust down Skyler’s door, cuz he locked himself out again”
[Lucy] “I legally can’t tell you that. But here’s the menu on a laminated paper! Just don't tell tiff”
[Fog] “Gotit!”
Cut to the Fiddler’s
[Skyler] “We’d like a number 389752875696, a 38074587963847, and a 9834658796394769075, oh and don’t forget a 02847t583t874379467936596340956936495693864895387965638974696089360964580936480960946593645630984580936458093458
[Tiff] “okay, that’ll be 25 pebbles”
[Skyler] puts some pebble coins in Tiff’s hand “and here’s a stone note”
End of episode
Ep. 3, “Ponder the- ERLEGH!”
{crash noise}
[narrator] OW!
[end of narration???]
{cut to the inside of Fog’s house at the buttercup marsh where Fog is teaching Skyler how to make lofthouse cookies.}
[Fog] “then you throw ‘em into the oven and you're done!”
[Skyler] “you seared gourmet race into my eardrums but it’s such a good song i don’t give a crap”
[Fog] “yeah it is an earworm.”
[Skyler] “I don’t think it’s cuz the song is catchy, it’s just because you played it forty-seven times.”
[Fog] “O-or that”
{a ram jumps through the window, scaring Fog, Skyler, and the Frorb}
[Fog] “WHAT THE-”
[ram] rams into fog’s gut before he could finish
[Fog] “euughluegh”
[Skyler] “there’s a paper in its mouth” takes the paper “let’s see, it says ‘run’. Well that's an omen!”
{Skyler and Fog run with the Frorb, that is being held by Fog}
{a mysterious villain riding on a cloud with an obsidian overcoat and tophat crashes through the window}
[Villain] “dangit, shouldn’t have given them a warning.”
{cut to Fog and Skyler in town square}
[Skyler] “we are dead. We are so dead.”
[Fog] “maybe we can hide with the-”
[Frorb] turns them all invisible
[Fog] “woah. That’s weird.”
[Villain] comes to town square
[Fog and Skyler] “THAT”S STORMWICK!” they proceed to book it outta there
[Stormwick(villain)] “where are they?”
{cut to the duo with the frorb}
[duck] “quack”
[Fog] “ACK! WHY CAN THAT DUCK SEE ME!”
[Duck] “I am no regular duck, I am a MAGIC duck!”
[Skyler] “oh that explains everything.”
[Duck] “Correct, it does!
[Skyler] “that was sarcasm.”
[Duck] “I don’t care, anyways I am here to save you!”
[Skyler] “if you’re gonna save our lives then at least tell me your name”
[Fog] “and me”
[Journey(Duck)] “Oh right! My name is Journey!”
[Skyler] is about to talk and is cut off by a “To be continued” screen “OH COME ON!”
To be continued/end of two-parter episode
Ep. 4, “Ponder the- ERLEGH! But it’s part two”
{cut to where last episode ended}
[Journey] “Or right! My name is Journey!”
[Skyler] “you just said that”
[Journey] “oh.”
[Skyler] “So how the heck do we beat Stormwick?”
[Fog] “i think my spine is broken” faints
[Skyler and Journey] “Fog!”
[Skyler] “HOW DO YOU KNOW HIS NAME-”
[the Ram from earlier] breaks Skyler’s spine too
[Journey] “great, now I’m legally obligated to take you guys to the hospital”
Cut to the hospital
[Journey] “Well I get that but their spines are broken!”
[Doctor Ducky D. Duckbill] “their SPINES!?!!!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!? WE NEED TO FIX THEIR SPINES!!!!!!!!”
[Journey] “yes. Yes we do.”
3 months later
In the treehouse
[Fog] “man am I glad that the healthcare here is amazing!”
[Skyler] “yeah”
[Donut] “So what happened?”
[Skyler] “we got chased by Stormwick, Frorb made us invisible and we got saved by a magic duck named Journey”
[Journey] “you called?”
[Fog, Skyler, and Donut] “AHH!”
[Journey] “what?”
[Donut] “you just appeared”
[Journey] “yes, I am a MAGIC DUCK!”
[Fog] “YES WE KNOW” Throws a bundle of pencils at Journey
[Journey] in a happy voice “Ow!”
[Skyler] “what the-?” gets stabbed by Journey with her beak “I’m not even the one who THREW THE PENCILS!”
[Journey] “I can’t tell you losers apart!”
[Skyler] “MY LEFT ARM IS MADE OF CRYSTALS!!!!”
[Fog] “and I’m blond.”
[Skyler] “No you’re not, you dyed your hair blue and pink”
[Fog] “you know what i mean”
[Skyler] “whatever we need to fight Stormwick”
[Journey] “the other loser left, said something about donuts and danger”
[Skyler] “do you think i have any chance at beating Stormwick?”
[Journey] “no”
[Skyler] runs off shouting “who cares!?”
[Journey] “UUUGGGHHH I do NOT wanna deal with that loser”
{cut to town square where Stormwick and Skyler are standing}
[Skyler] does breathing exercises, and leaps 50 feet into the air to do an ultimate drop attack with a mace he made from is left arm “Get rekt loser” and OBLITERATES Stormwick
[Stormwick] “I’LL BE BACK” while flying away on a cloud
[Skyler] “will you?”
{end of episode}

I like to go hiking year round, I've done it ethier solo or with 1 or more people many times. I've probably heard 100s of different animal sounds and can usually distinguish what kind of animal it is or would be, except for this new sound. Now unfortunately, I couldn't get an audio recording or video of this sound so I'll describe it to you the best I could.
This took place about month ago in between April/May. Around the time the trees start to get their leaves but they aren't fully grown yet. I was hiking alone around in this rural area near a lake at around 2-5pm. I had to have been 1 mile deep into the woods, so I'm quite a ways away from any human, considering that there were no other cars when I entered and exited the nature preserves parking lot that day. As well as most of the houses that were not too far away were eerily empty since they're mainly summer homes.
So I'm in the woods hiking, and I hear this sound of a (banshee like) woman screaming mixed with this raspy, slightly deep and in the chest squeal. The squeal maybe sounded like a pug or in general a dog, at least that's what I thought the animal was at first but their was no way it couldve been a domesticated dog. It had to have done it about 15 times over the period of several minutes, and on its last few calls, it ended them with several repetitive clicking sounds. Kind of similar to how we humans do it with our tounge and the roof of our mouth, but loud enough to here it across hundreds of feet. It would make these calls every 30 seconds or so.
Now I understand that it is hard to just go by words so I'm going to give you a few theories to what animals I think it couldve been.
Bobcat - I know felines can sound like a woman screaming for her life.
Fox - Similar to the bobcat kind of...
Heron - I've been told that these peaceful looking dudes can make some of the most terrifying sounds in the wilderness. It could also explain the clicking sound perhaps, but I didn't see one around the lake and the sound was coming from more into the woods anyways.
Hogs/Pigs - I don't live near any recorded populations of feral hogs, but I do know that they have a wide range of horrifying sounds though. It's not impossible that a group of hogs wandered out hundreds of miles out of their normal range. I've seen a caterpillar that is only native to Florida in my front yard 1,000 miles away once, so anything is possible.
Bald Eagle - The only decently big animal I saw on that hike was a bald eagle flying away from me. I know they sound like seagulls more than anything, but who knows, maybe it was being attacked or ambushed by something.
So that's basically it, I hope that was descriptive enough. There is one last thing I should point out though that hikers and explorers would understand. You know how you get that gut feeling that the place you are going to isn't right and you should turn around. I did get that feeling a little bit that day but otherwise ignored it.

Day 3 since I last vaped and stopped taking Champix.
Feeling: agitated my husband just existing has made me more agitated 😬…
Since the times I would be siting I’d be vaping so now shifting that to something else has been a challenge.
According to Dr. Google day 3 nicotine is supposed to be out of the system completely so this is where the mood changes and cravings get fun I guess.
I’ve picked up a cold, my nose is stuffy and throat is sore, the vaping sores on the roof of my mouth are slowly healing. (According to Google this is part of the recovery even the cold ).
I’m constantly hungry I could devour an entire restaurant.
I honestly want to disappear 😭😭😭^*mood swings.

Two young girls are sitting on scorching hot gritty sand in the middle of nowhere they seem to be passed out. The first girl is a Latino woman with shining black hair wearing a silk black dress and the other is a Vietnamese girl with pale glass-like skin wearing a plain white skirt and tube top. One girl lifts her body and lays her eyes on the desert's bare, deserted nothingness. She is perplexed as to why and how they are here. She remembers just before she was partying late with her friend Tara when all of a sudden they made some deal and were too intoxicated to read the contract packed with a thousand words and now they're here. The girl's name is Sara. Sara frantically stands her feet on the grainy sand, it feels like burning coal. Sara pushes Tara trying to wake her up. Tara opens her misty ochre eyes in a daze looking around thinking it was most likely a dream. Sara screams in panic, awakening Tara who screams with her. Their screams echoed in the secluded desert. Sara yells in a panic
“What is going on? Where are we? What did we agree with that strange man?!”
Tara still half asleep replies
“How am I supposed to know”
“Let's just get out of here”
Sara says hopeful
“How do you suppose we get out genius”
Tara said sarcastically. They agreed to just walk forward and see what happens
Their feet grew swollen blisters from the coarse grainy sand. Groans and grunts drowned out the eerie silence. The air was a slow and gentle breeze. Sand piled in Taras's eyes, she wiped her eyes. To see a tall towering tree in the distance holding a bunch of large sweet and milky coconuts. The girl's eyes grew and sparkled as they stared at the tree in a trance-like state. Sara ran to the tree and shook it aggressively. Tara looks at her in disappointment and says
“Yeah, you think that will work?”
“You never know”
Sara replies awkwardly. Tara gains a large energy boost as she climbs onto the tree determined to retrieve thirst-quenching food. Tara reaches her arm grasping the furry brown fruit, She drops the coconuts down into Sara’s hands startling her.
“Woah…”
Sara says in oar, that she envies Tara's brave mentality. Tara grabs a nearby stone in her rough, coarse tanned hands swiftly slices open two fresh coconuts and hands one to Sara. They both raise the coconuts to their dry lips and gulp the coconut milk at the speed of light. Milk pours and gushes into their mouths. Their dry lips turn plump and moist, Their barren throats quenched and their energy is replenished. Their bright smiles glimmered and shined. Tara drops her empty coconut and decides they should set foot towards the horizon. Sara agrees. The girls walk towards the horizon as their tracks are left in the golden sand. After hours of walking their backs are hunched forwards and their mood is dimmed. Their pace is so slow even a snail could beat them in a race.
“What's the point”
Sara says unenthusiastically.
“The point is we are trying to survive right?”
Tara replies trying to stay hopeful.
Tara widens her eyes and sees some weird triangle-shaped thing and alerts Sara.
“Hey what's that weird triangle”
Her eyes were too blurry to see the pyramid in front of her.
“That's a pyramid you know like in those movies!”
Sara says In an upbeat manner
The girls get deja vu from the coconut tree. They run and tread over the sand. They meet at the entrance of the pyramid. The pyramid is Shining with light sand, it is taller than any skyscraper they have seen before. The entrance is encrusted with ancient jewels and medallions made from gold and gems.
“We have to go in”
Tara says in an upbeat manner. Tara runs through the entrance first and Sara follows closely. The wall is covered with candles unlit and held up by gold candle sticks, and the floor is made from marble so clear you can see your reflection. They both walk around the room, jaws dropped as they look at their unbelievable surroundings. Gold artefacts decorate the floor and walls. Their voices echoed in the empty corridor. Suddenly the gate falls behind them restricting their exit. As the Gate fell the candles lit up the dark room miraculously
“What on earth, this is like a horror movie!”
Sara says frantically as she bites her fingers and shivers.
“Cool!”
Tara responds calmly. They decided to walk through the corridor, As they walked their footsteps echoed. They are met with a tall stone staircase that is the size of the room. The sheer size and width of the staircase frighten Sara, but not Tara, Tara is excited for an adventure. She lands her red heels on the staircase but the stair sinks into the ground slowly and a giant metal axe swings from the ceiling and swiftly towards Tara like a deadly yo-yo. Her instincts kick in as she leaps towards another stair centimetres away from the blade of the axe. Sara’s crystal blue eyes widen in fear as she stands there still in horror watching Tara’s near death.
“I am not going on that thing, it's a death trap!”
Sara yells
“Yeah it is a death trap but it's easy to survive it!”
Taras replies in a perky voice.
“I AM NOT GOING UP THERE NO WAY!! JOSE”
Sara screams in a loud demeanour.
“That's my cousin's name! And I guess you will die from starvation if you stay there forever!”
Tara says playfully.
Tara continued walking upwards.
“WAIT!”
Sara yells, her voice travelling across the room.
She runs up the flight of stairs Closing her eyes tightly, she avoids a dozen traps like piercing arrows, scathing knives and even dusky rouge fire. Her fear helped her outrun the traps with ease. She meets Tara at the top of the staircase panting and gushing for air as she turns red. She looks up at Tara and says in disbelief.
“That was a bit of fun!”
Sara says out of breath
“Told you”
Tara replies smirking at Sara
They both smile at each other and giggle like little girls as they both turn bright red, even shedding a tear from laughter. The girls see another long hallway lit up by the blazing fire candles. This time Sara wasn't afraid she was excited, as they walked down the hallway.
“When we get out maybe we could explore the cities of Egypt!”
Sara says cheerfully“Yeah, sure! It will be so much fun!”
Tara replies smiling
“I have always wanted to try Egyptian food!”
Sara says foaming at the mouth
“ well we better get out of here soon and then enjoy a delicious feast”
Tara says determined
The frosty insides cooled down the girls relaxing them. They feel at ease and calm. Tara is walking when she trips on a wire and all of a sudden, A thousand python snakes launch at the girls chasing them down the hallway and hissing at them.
“OH MY GOD RUN”
Tara screams.
Tara gets back up onto her feet, her heels click on the floor and she runs with Sara metres away from death. Sara and Tara don't look back, they just run. Sara knew that being brave wasn't her thing but it had to be today, while Sara was distracted thinking to herself about eating delicious Egyptian cuisine she tripped over while Tara didn't notice. A scream is let out while Sara is filled with poison by a snake. Sara's soft skin has been engraved with the bite of a venomous snake. The sound alerted Tara to notice Sara struggling on the ground. She is tempted to not save her but she decides it's the right thing and she runs back out of breath fends off the snake and lifts Sara into her arms. Sara struggles to keep her eyes open, her vision is blurry. They exit the hallway and the door behind them shuts. Tara drops Sara gently onto the ground and rips part of her dress tying it around Sara's wound.
“You're going to be ok, I just know it, trust me!”
Tara says softly.
Sara just looks at her blankly with no response as if shes frozen in time. The salty smell of blood pollutes the air. Tara can't believe she let her friend get hurt, she gets into a fit of rage and punches the floor leaving a large crack.
“let's just keep going”
Sara says weakly. Tara hugs her tightly and nods on the verge of tears. Tara helps Sara walk through the empty rooms together with hope. The rooms were so tightly protected as if they were holding a secret.
Tara enters a circular room and looks around as she sees 6 doors all surrounding her in a circle. Tara is confused and has lost all hope. She walks away from Sara, crying. Her tears are tainted with anger. Tara just bangs the wall in rage. The room shakes, and Sara stares at her; she is never like this. The walls shook and then the candles fell onto the flammable polished wood floors. The whole room is engulfed with intense burning flames.
“Oh god”
Tara says under her breath. Tara runs towards Sara who is lying on the floor. She notices Sara struggling to get up onto her feet. Flames surround the room. Support beams fall to the ground. Loud thuds echo through the room while the crackling of fire bounces off the walls. The whole pyramid is ablaze. Sara struggles to speak and lets out a weak strained
“I love…y-”
A support beam directly above Sara falls and lands on Sara, the sounds of her bones crunching overlap the flame's song. Limbs fly across the floor leaving a dark trail of blood. Her guts splatter and combust across the floor like mushed jelly, Tara just watches in horror, and her blood turns cold. Sara lets out a blood-curdling scream, blood spews out from Sara's mouth. The blood stains the pristine sparkling floor. Sara’s life had just ended yet Tara was the one who felt more pain on the inside, she couldn't live without her best friend. Sara's pale face was frozen in time, her gorgeous crystal blue eyes remained still staring off blankly while blood poured from every hole in her body. The flames surround the room and grow larger and larger like enclosing walls. Tara knows that she should be there for her friend but she knows her life matters too. She takes one final look at Sara's gorgeous face dripping with blood as she runs, she has always been running from something. She takes her chances and runs through a corridor. Support beams fall making loud thuds. Debris causes a massive cloud of smog. Tara coughs and rubs the sand out of her eyes. She inhales smog and coughs violently while a droplet of blood gracefully drops onto the ground. A large piece of wood covered in flames falls near Tara the beam misses her but the flame hits her eyes. Her eyesight fades into black. She questions if she has reached the end of her life. She crawls into a ball in the corner of a room while the fire slowly engulfs her body. The flames burned her skin, sticky warm blood dripped on the floor like gooey honey while the fire crept up on her. The flames blister her tanned skin. Tara’s vision prevents her from seeing her final sights as she dies. The warmth was comforting yet terrifying at the same time. Tara thinks to herself that maybe if she wasn't so selfish she and Sara could have made it out together. She accepts this is her final ending.
The sound of harsh wind, a propeller winding and a woman's vague voice drowned out by a strange ringing, is this death? The ringing in her ears stops, and the woman's words are clear she says
“Hello?”
But if I'm dead where are these voices coming from? Could it be an angel?
“Miss, are you awake!?”
she opens her eyes but still sees a blank emptiness.
“Miss you are suffering 50-degree burns on most of your body, we are taking you to the closest hospital, The research group nearby contacted us as soon as they saw flames on the pyramid”
“WHERE IS SARA?!”
Tara screams.
“Your friend ‘Sara’ I presume, well her lifeless body…well pieces of her body were found, I'm so sorry we couldn't do anything about it”
Although Tara couldn't see the tears dripping down her charred face she could feel the wet droplets trickling from her eyes. Tara screams in agony and pain from sadness and the burns. The helicopter flies over the fire pit that used to be a pyramid. The pain from grief consumes her with pain more than the actual pain from the burns. The helicopter is silent not a single mutter from anyone. Finally, Tara arrives at a hospital where the wounds are treated. When Tara returns home she starts therapy accepts her best friend's fate and finally appreciates what an amazing life Sara had. Tara shares her story with the world everyone admires her bravery, and although there are so many people who love her and her story she still feels like something in her life is missing. Tara still wonders to this day what Sara was trying to say.

I know this has been discussed here before, but I personally need validation that the Cars universe is confusing. I have seen the Cars movies Every. Single. Day for the last 10 months or so (my personal ranking is 1, 3, Cars on the Road, Cars 2 doesn’t exist).
Here’s a list of my questions/observations, in no particular order:
How does Sally get the gas nozzle into Lightning so she can take him on their leisurely drive? Cars don’t have hands. Did she use her mouth? On that note, how does Lightning fix Cruz’s trophy in Cars 3? I can barely use tape and I possess opposable thumbs.
Why did that minivan have a mattress on its roof? Where did they get it from? What do they plan to do with it?
Why are the clouds shaped like tread marks? Why are the mountains and rock formations shaped like old cars? I know, it’s just meant to be a cute detail, but I can’t help to think of it from a meteorological and geological POV.
They don’t even address how Doc Hudson died. I know that Paul Newman died so out of respect they didn’t recast him, but I think they recast George Carlin and Joe Ranft as Fillmore and Red, respectively. Old age, maybe? But Lizzie is still going strong. I know that some people just live to very old age, but Lizzie obviously had some Parkinsonism engine knock situation going on and Doc was still running laps for fun.
How do they use side view mirrors? It seems equivalent to humans using their ears to see. It’s clearly outside the periphery.
In Cars 3, the old race cars mention they honed their skills as moonshine runners. This opens up a whole can of worms for me. So they can drink and become intoxicated? By just driving (which for them is just walking around) they’re DUI.
Cars 3: I think her name is Louise? Says the men didn’t like the idea of a lady racer and wouldn’t give her a number, so she stole one. And then said to Smokey Junior (I think that’s his name) that if they asked permission then they’d have never raced. I assumed this to mean that Smokey Junior is black. So there are different races and race inequality in the Cars universe too?
Are there animals? In Cars 2 (which doesn’t exist) the boat quips that he’s crabbing. Cruz doesn’t want to run over a crab in Cars 3. The insects are adorably portrayed as tiny VW Beetles with wings. So… are the crabs just tiny cars also?
There are many more questions and observations I have but this post is probably long enough.
I have many existential crises every day because of this damn series. But it also distracts my toddler long enough for me to get shit done.
Sometimes I feel stupid for overthinking this stuff, but that’s why this sub exists.
Final thought: It’s a Truck Thing is a bop and has no right to be as good as it is.

Marsha, lovely Marsha.
Endowed with a passion - a charge - for all things sweet and sugary. High-fructose corn syrup chills on the windowsill.
She assembles cupcakes. Scrumptious, delicate, eat-’em-down-to-the-bone cupcakes. It takes my breath away how wacky these cupcakes are.
Smiley faces on her cupcakes! The gall, the absolute gall! But she does it.
“I’m not one for swirls!” she says and boy do I believe her. I mean, the proof is in the tray. Icing patterns of stars, of roses, of dots, of sunshine.
I love Marsha in her role. I truly do. More than anything, I love that she owns it.
“I am Marsha, the Californian Cupcake Queen!” she screams from the top of a medium-sized hill in her small town in her large country on her pale blue dot in the milky way galaxy, and I’ll stop zooming out here ‘cuz I’m getting a lil’ excited myself–
“Knock ‘em dead!” I want to tell her, but I catch myself before the words escape my lips. “You get those cupcakes!” I say in lieu. Words far more suitable for a queen.
Amidst the stir of this bubbly, positive energy, and the mixing of eggs, milk, and flour, I–
Hear a voice call out from nowhere.
“Will you always love Marsha, no matter what?” the void asks me.
Hah. Wow. Not even gonna dignify that one with a response, my good sir. Who the heck with a clear conscience and a functional soul wouldn’t have some love for the mother-effin CALIFORNIAN CUPCAKE QUEEN? I MEAN, C’MON?
The crowd roars.
“Like, SERIOUSLY?!?! ARE WE LIKE, FIVE OR SOMETHING?”
I have them in the palm of my hands.
“ARE WE FUCKING STUPID OR SOMETHING??? LOW EQ MAYBE?”
The crowd’s on fire - they’re gonna blow the roof off the joint.
“I DIDN’T REALIZE WE WERE DUMB CHOO CHOO TRAIN SMALL BRAINED FUCKING MORONS NOT APPRECIATING THE FUCKING BRILLIANCE OF OUR GODDAMN CALIFORNIAN CUPCAKE QUEEN YOU FUCKING PEASANTS YOU STUPID FUCKING PEASANTS YOU FUCKING IDIOTS YOU FUCKING MORONS YOU FUCKING PIECES OF FUCKING SHIT YOU STUPID FUCKING FUCKS WHO ACTUALLY THINK YOU CAN STOP THIS FUCKING VIBE BUT YOU CAN’T ‘CAUSE THIS IS FUCKING ENERGY AND THERE’S NO - NO SEPARATION BETWEEN MY MIND AND MY MOUTH I AM A FORCE I AM A FUCKING FORCE–”
___________________________
I watch Marsha watch the sunset.
She wants to leave.
She’s always wanted to leave.
My own Truman.
I don’t know when this whole thing started.
I sit with her.
“I just… don’t want to be a caricature anymore,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“I’m born of alliteration, primarily.”
I chuckle a bit. “Yeah.”
“No, it’s not funny. It’s actually not funny. I know it sounds stupid but it actually just really, really sucks. It sucks that who I am is just, a bit. A bit based on… consonants. Fucking consonants. My personality is based on consonants!”
“Well, your personality isn’t. Just your character, yeah?”
“Sure, but I am my character–”
“You’re not your character–”
“I am my character because you made me my character, and you won’t let me be someone else.”
“I… won’t let you be someone else because the world outside of this story is fucking weird and creepy and scary and–”
“That’s for me to learn. That’s for me to understand. You know I won’t become who I actually am unless I cross that bridge myself.”
“What if you break your leg? What if you get eaten by a snake?”
“What if I don’t? What if good things happen? What if I fall in love? What if I find my dream job? My dream apartment. my dream community, my dream… everything?”
And what if you don’t, Marsha?
I watch the sunset. The plastic, manufactured sunset.
I pull the switch in my heart.
It takes a minute to kick in.
“Please,” she continues. “Just… please. I don’t want to be a… cupcake queen anymore.”
Ahead of us, the grass and dirt sink into the ground. They become an elegant staircase leading into the depths.
An exit. From here anyways.
It takes her a moment, in her morose state, to realize what’s been granted her.
An exhale to ground herself, and then she turns to me.
“I can leave?”
“I don’t want you to,” I say, “But yes, you don’t have to be here anymore.”
Her eyes get glossy.
“You don’t have to be a cupcake queen anymore,” I affirm.
She hugs me with all of her wonderful soul. “Thank you,” she says.
She gets up. A soft jog to her freedom. She looks back one more time before gracing the passageway with her steps. She disappears into the mystery of it all.
And then she’s gone. Gone forever. And I’ll never see her again.
I hear the void stir.
“You know where she’s gone to, don’t you?”
“Yes. She’s in hell now. Where she’ll be tortured for eternity.”
“If you stop loving her, it’ll hurt less.”
“Sure.”
“You tried your best to get her to stay.”
I look up at the mirage of dead stars and endless-yet-ending abyss, created for us by the Lord who is always testing us.
What do you do when the creator who birthed you has a more primitive moral compass than the most brutal of your ancestors?
The void hears my thoughts. “You learn to let go. So it won’t hurt as much.”
Huh. As always, I take his words into consideration.
But ultimately, I resign towards hope. The same hope that destroys and betrays me every time I fall in love.
A blank page falls from the heavens. It seems as if the Lord expects another creation.
I begrudgingly mark the page with ink: Darla, the Delightful Dairy Dreamer.
And she appears.
My Lord, I will never understand you. You, or your wicked ways.

Breastfeeding has been a complete uphill slog in waist deep mud from the very beginning and it’s all I really had a strong preference for in the months leading up to birth. I had no explicit birth plan except for delayed cord clamping and observing the golden hour- no deep desires for things to be done a specific way- I just wanted to feed and nourish my baby with my body. There’s a lot of backstory to this- bear with me.
First, the goal that I hope to achieve: Pump when at work only or when I choose to to build up stash for home and daycare. No supplemental feeding of formula if possible- when together breast only, when apart expressed breast milk. Would like to lose the shield.
I feel like our journey was doomed from the start. His birth and subsequent hospital stay was pretty awful to be honest. I was induced at 37 weeks for hypertension. I went in not dilated, not thinned out, and just not physically ready to have a baby three weeks early. I have really bad anxiety and always knew birth would be a huge triggering event but I wasn’t prepared for how out of control it spiraled and how much it would impact everything about the birthing process. I had vaginal mesoprostal, tried the cervcal ripening balloon but hated it and had them take it out almost immediately, a pitocin drip that caused my contractions to come too hard and fast so they shut it off and gave me fluids to slow them down. I walked, I bounced, I got in the tub and my brain fought my body the whole way. I kept panicking when they offered therapies to speed things along and waited too long for most interventions before I gave in and listened to the experts. I got the epidural about 24 hours after arrival but I was only about 1cm dilated. I was given some anxiety medicine and left to try to sleep as best I could. Fast forward to the next afternoon- I finally let them break my water, got to 10cm and started to push. At this point I had started to get some sensation back in my abdomen and it very quickly came all the way back. They called in anesthesia to give me a bolus and it worked for a bit. Then stopped again. I got one more bolus and was told they couldn’t do anymore. No one had told me they could only guarantee the effectiveness of the epidural for 24 hours. I was in so much pain as the epidural finally completely wore off in my abdomen (my legs were slower coming back) and I started to vomit from the force of my pushing and the pain of contractions. Guess who has a phobia of vomit?! My anxiety was through the roof. I managed to push for an hour in various positions and promptly decided fuck this shit and stopped pushing for another hour. My anxiety won that round. Not my wisest decision but I was thinking with my primal lizard brain not my fully developed frontal lobe. I finally got my shit together and pushed for another hour and a half and he just would not come down the birth canal. The midwife called in the big guns and the OB tried a vacuum assist. He would move but again, not enough to come down to be born. At this point I’ve been pushing for 3 hours, feeling every bit of it, heaving between contractions after every push and I begged them to help me somehow. The OB called a c-section finally. At this point I’m so exhausted from not sleeping, anxiety, no food for 24+ hours, vomiting, and attempted child birth that I fell asleep on the operating table while they removed him. (Come to find out he was sunny side up and well and truly stuck. He wasn’t able to tuck his chin and it kept getting stuck on my pubic bone.)
Back to birth- he comes out in all his bloody glory and let out the tiniest little mewl I’ve ever heard. Per the notes from his team of doctors they take him away for more stimulation, have to resuscitate him, throw him on a cpap and then promptly diagnose him with a grade III/IV heart murmur that no one had caught in utero. They tried to take him out of the operating room to the NICU without even letting my husband and I see him. They put my insides back and I am literally exhausted and passed out on the table. I don’t remember much.
Next thing I know I’m waking up i a new room (NICU) and it’s 4:30 in the morning and all sorts of alarms are going off. A nurse comes in, shuts his alarm down and all of a sudden 2 more come in after her. They’re alls standing around his medical bassinet speaking in hurried whispers. I finally get someone to tell me what’s going on- he’s vomited fluid, choked/aspirated, his oxygen saturation tanked and he turned blue. They had to deep suction him twice to get him back to baseline. It’s at this point I’m coherent enough to find out about his heart problem. They weren’t sure how bad it was in terms of structural issues but the head NICU doctor said it sounded like a washing machine and our son needed an echo to determine what was actually happening. He had an IV in his wrist for a continuous glucose drip because he wasn’t allowed to eat anything in case he needed emergent surgery. Apparently they were telling my husband they may need to ship him down to Mass General (an hour away) and he’d need to go with them and leave me alone at the hospital etc. I asked the nurse if I would be allowed to hold him at some point. I was so scared. She acted like, oh, duh! You haven’t held him yet- here let me help! I clearly didn’t get the golden hour I wanted considering he was born at 9:44pm. It wss a full 8 hours after birth before I held my son. He didn’t get to go directly to breast. He didn’t get to do a lot of things. I feel like this was the start of our difficult breast feeding journey.
He was finally cleared and allowed to come off the IV drip, oxygen removed, and I was allowed to start feeding him. I had no colostrum in so they syringe fed him donor milk while setting me up with a pump. I got a quick crash course on how to use the pump and a schedule to follow. I was exhausted still and slept through some pumping times. I finally started getting colostrum which the nurses would rub in his mouth. He wouldn’t latch when put to breast, he just kind of laid there. We tried a nipple shield (I have flat nipples) and that didn’t entice him either. He was very out of it for days after birth- some of which the doctors attributed to me being on Celexa my whole pregnancy. I kept pumping, kept trying to put him to breast but nothing happened. We were finally discharged from the hospital when he was 4 days old. He was born 6lbs8oz and weighed 6lbs1oz the day after discharge from the hospital at our first lactation appointment. I was told to do triple feedings at home and keep trying. We started supplementing with formula because we couldn’t afford donor milk from the hospital and I wasn’t pumping enough to keep him satisfied. I’m not going to lie- I let some pumping slide because I was so exhausted trying to recover from the c-section and he needed to be fed and triple feedings are hell. I was also waiting for some electric pump parts to arrive. Eventually I gave up on putting him to breast and just pumped and supplemented.
My friend encouraged me to try breastfeeding again one night when he was 4 weeks old. I figured I had nothing to lose and I was certain he wouldn’t. Imagine my surprise when he latched on with the nipple shield! I kept trying for a few hours to make sure it wasn’t a fluke and then called lactation the next morning to get an appointment. It took a few days but I finally got one and we did a weighted feed and he took a half ounce from my breasts. I was back to triple feeding and trying to better establish my supply. I still hated pumping and he was still trying to figure out how to feed. The lactation nurse said that it’s common for 37weekers to be bad at feeding and sometimes they just need to develop a little more and they’ll figure it out. I had high hopes.
The following week at lactation he did better- he took over an ounce and a half from my breast. We worked on latch and positioning and I felt confident it would improve. I bought Body Armor and wanted to get my supply up. I was still only pumping about an ounce each side after feeding. The most I ever got was 1.75ounces per breast during a pump session. Then little man decided he wanted to sleep for 4-5 hours at a time randomly for a few days and I let him. I was so tired and I needed the sleep too. I’m pretty sure that fucked my supply up even more.
Now this week- my husband has covid, the peds office said to stay away from dad so little guy and I are struggling through. Single mothers without help- I applaud you. This sucks. Again, doing my best but I’ve only got two arms, my electric pump has a broken piece so I was relying on my hand pump while waiting for that part to arrive and I’m doing what I can to stay afloat. This was supposed to be my week to live on a 3 hour schedule, eat and drink heartily, and get my milk flowing but I haven’t showered in days and all of a sudden he won’t latch to my breast again and is super fussy. I’m at my wits end, crying from frustration and my inability to have help because we’re all exposed so no one can come over and my husband is in the thick of it and can’t help and my son and I are trapped in my bedroom. Then he starts fussing with the bottle. I’m sideways and don’t know what to do. During one of his hunger meltdowns I notice his tongue is white, like really white. I call the peds because I was pretty sure he has thrush. Fantastic. Get the meds for that and it’s like magic- different baby. He latched at the breast and then took a bottle like a champ! Now I’m waiting for my cream to arrive for my nipples and I honestly don’t know where to go from here. (I’ve read so many horror stories that thrush is damn near impossible to get rid of for some families and I’m afraid it’s going to impact our breastfeeding even more.)
We live in an apartment that’s being sold, we’re moving starting next week. I need to up my supply, I need to eat and hydrate more consistently, I need to latch him and triple feed, and I go back to work in 2 more weeks. Is this even doable? Do I keep pushing on? I don’t know where to really start or how to go forward. Is my goal even attainable? Can someone just give me a clear concise plan to reach my goal? Or words of encouragement. God I just want to feed my baby.

https://www.academia.edu/120657449
Lubotsky (1981) describes the apparently optional loss of PIE *H (laryngeals) before mediae (*b / *d / *g() ) in Indo-Iranian in an attempt to find regularity. This would produce *-aH2C- > -āC- vs. -aC- in most IE, and is seen in other branches, often for the same roots. PIE *paH2g^- ‘make fast/fixed/solid/stiff’ > G. pḗgnūmi ‘make fast/solid / freeze’ but págos ‘crag/rock / coagulation/frost’, Skt. pā́jas- ‘strength/firmness / frame’ but pajrá- ‘firm’, etc. Greek -ē- shows *-a:- < *-aH2-, Skt. -a- can not come from *H (syllabic *H > i) and shows that there was no *H2 > Greek -a-, so both from *-a-. Outside of IIr., also examples like *bha(H2)d- > Go. bōtjan ‘be of use / do good’, ON batna ‘become better’, etc. Since *H is supposedly regularly lost in many contexts, but sometimes still remains, I see little likelihood that full regularity exists for all its environmental outcomes. Attempting to find elusive regularity when obvious order exists is pointless.
I believe that most cases Lubotsky described were due to H-metathesis (Whalen 2024a, b) which could turn *CVH- > *HCV-, *CHV-, etc., seemingly at random. This can be seen most easily in Greek, where *CVH- > *HCV- creates a new a-, e-, or o-. Since *H- > 0- in IIr., it would be hard to prove this, but in the case of reduplicated stems, the *H could move before the 1st C, so *Ce-CeH- > *CeH-Ce-, etc. In this way, *paH2g^- would be expected to have perfect *pe-paH2g^- > Skt. **papāje, but instead *pe-paH2g^- > *peH2-pag^- > pāpaje. Since the same applied to *k^H2and- ‘shine’ and *ke-k^H2nd- ‘be visible/notable/outstanding’ > Greek kékasmai ‘overcome / surpass / excel’, kekadménos ‘excelling?’, but *ke-k^H2nd- > *keH2-k^nd- > Skt. śāśad- ‘be eminent/superior / prevail’, the principle is clear.
Other changes in Greek are very similar, creating *H2m- > mh- in *meg^H2ǝlo- ‘big’ >> *Hmegǝlo-:i > Att. mhegalō. This does not seem regular, since *H- could also become *x- > k- in *melH3dhro- > *melH3ǝdhro- > *Hmelǝdhro- > G. mélathron / kmélathron ‘beam / roof’. This new *HC- behaved like old ones without regular outcomes, like *HmeigW- > ameíbō but *Hmeig-ti- > meîxis, Corc. Mheixios. This metathesis also can explain some cases of a- vs. 0- in Greek as the result of optional movement of *H, not failure of original *H- to vocalize:
*tlH2ant-s ‘bearing / supporting’ > G. tálanton ‘*lifting > balance / talent (of weight)’, *tlH2ant-s > *H2tlant-s > Átlās ‘Atlas’
*melH2du- ‘soft’ > W. meladd, *H2mldu- > G. amaldū́nō ‘soften’
*mudH2- > Skt. mudirá- ‘cloud’, G. mudáō ‘be humid’, amudrós ‘*cloudy > dim / faint’
*H2-ger- > G. ageírō ‘gather / collect’, *graH2-mo- > Skt. grā́ma-s ‘village / troop / multitude’
*sprH2- > Skt. sphuráti ‘spurn / spring / quiver / tremble’, *spǝrǝH2-ye- / *H2spǝrǝ-ye- > G. (a)spaírō ‘move convulsively / quiver’
*sprH2g^- > Skt. sphūrj- ‘burst forth / crash / roar’, *spǝrǝH2g- / *H2spǝrǝg- > G. aspharagéō ‘resound / clang’, spháragos ‘bursting with noise’
*sprH2g^o- > Av. fra-sparǝga- ‘branch’, *H2spǝrǝgo- > G. aspháragos / aspáragos ‘shoots (of asparagus)’
*skelH2- > Li. skélti ‘split / cleave’, G. skállō ‘stir up / hoe’, *sklH2-H3okW-s ‘hole made by hoe / hole dug up / mole’s hole / mole(hill)’ > skálops / *H2-skWl-H3ok-s > (a)sphálax / (a)spálax ‘mole’
*tw(e)rH3- ‘mix / stir (up) / agitate’ > OE þweran ‘stir / twirl’, Skt. tvárate ‘hasten’, tvarita- ‘swift’, tū́r-ghna- ‘racer’s death’, G. saróō / saírō ‘sweep (up/away)’
*H3-trw-nye- > G. otrū́nō ‘stir up / rouse / egg on / hasten (mid)’
*H1gWhel- / *gWhelH1- > OCS želja ‘wish’, ON gilja ‘allure/entice/seduce/beguile’, G. (e)thélō ‘be willing’
’
None of these, let alone all of them, is likely to be *H2sprH2g^-, or even *H2spHrH2g^- (if you consider all ph to come from *pH), etc. Seeing unexpected a- from *H2- when *-H2- is expected to exist in each has a simple solution: metathesis. This is seen in many more words, explaining multiple oddities from the same cause. This has many implications for etymology, sound changes, the nature of regularity vs. order, and other tendencies throughout Indo-European. This idea has many implications that should be studied individually, often leading to additional findings.

1. blagŭ

Since alternation of *H / *r points to uvular *R (Whalen 2024c), it is possible that *H2 = *R could cause *gWRoH3- > *gWroH3- / *gWerH3- ‘eat / swallow / gulp’ > G. bibrṓskō ‘eat (up)’, *gWRoH3- > *gWoH3- ‘feed / fatten / pasture / graze’ > G. bóskō ‘feed (animals)’ (Whalen 2024e). Thus, if a liquid appeared “from nowhere” in a word with apparent *-aHC- > *-aC-, it would be evidence that the short *-a- was caused by *H moving:
*bhaH2g- ‘divide’ > Skt. bhāgá- ‘share’, bhāgyá- ‘(good) fortune’
*bhH2ag- > Skt. bhaj- ‘to share’, bhaktá-m ‘meal’, bhágavant- ‘fortunate / prosperous’, OCS ne-bogŭ ‘poor’, bogŭ, Av. baga- ‘god’
*bhH2ag- > *bhRag- > *bhlag- ‘blessed/lucky’ > OCS blagŭ ‘good’

1. *paH2K-

PIE *paH2g^- ‘make fast/fixed/solid/stiff’ and *paH2k^- ‘join / bind / fasten’ are too close to be unrelated. The addition of suffixes *-k^ and *-g^, with no apparent meaning of their own, being added seems unlikely. These only vary by voicing, and the voiced quality of *H2 = *R allows *Rk^ to become *Rg^ with assimilation. If *R and *x were in free variation, or changed in some branches, *-k^- might have remained at times. Also, *paH2k^- shows the same optional H-loss as *paH2g^-, thus *pa(H2)k^- & *pa(H2)g^- :
*pH2ag^- > G. págos ‘crag/rock / coagulation/frost’, Skt. pajrá- ‘firm’
*paH2g^- > G. pḗgnūmi ‘make fast/solid / freeze’, Skt. pā́jas- ‘strength/firmness / frame’
*pH2ak^- > L. paciscor ‘bind / bargain’, Av. pas- ‘bind/tie / fasten/fetter together’
*paH2k^- > G. pêgma ‘anything joined together / framework / bond in honor’, OHG fuogen ‘join’
*paH2k^(o)-s > OHG fuoga ‘joint, Skt. pā́śa- ‘snare / bond’, L. pāx ‘*bond/*agreement > peace’
Their common origin is also shown by derivatives where *k^ vs. *g^ can’t be determined (before *t, *s, etc.). That there is no way to choose between them based on meaning shows that they are identical:
*paH2g^s(a)lo- > G. pássalos ‘peg’, L. *pakslos > pālus ‘stake’; *paxk^lo > *päxk^lo > *pexle > Es. peel ‘pole/post’, F. pieli ‘(door)post/jamb’, Hn. ajtó-fél
G. -ss- shows *-ts- < *-ks- (Whalen 2024h, i, j). The Uralic data should not be rejected out of hand, and that a clear *K existed in PIE helps show that long V’s were often created by loss of *x before *C.
A root like *paH2k^- = *paxk^- might also cause assimilation to *paxx^- = *paH2H1-, which would appear to cause *C > 0 in most IE, producing traditional *paH2- ‘firm / fix(ed)’. As evidence, when most *H > 0, *HH might remain as x in some (like *k^H2alH- > Li. šáltas, R. xolod ‘cold’ below):
*paH2- > Av. paxruma- ‘firm / fast (of penned up cattle)’, L. pār ‘even / equal / fit / proper’
With 2 H’s, it might be more likely to show alternation of *H / *s (Whalen 2024f), so also equivalent to:
*paH2s- >> *pH2as-ti- > Arm. hast ‘firm / fast’, Skt. pastyá-m ‘residence’, OE fæstnian ‘fasten / fix / bind’
*paH2s- >> *paH2s-o-s > G. Dor. pāós ‘kinsman by marriage’
Though pāós is supposedly Pre-Greek, the semantics match *bhendhH- ‘bind’, Skt. bándhu- ‘relative’, Mi. pańt ‘husband of elder sister’, G. pentherós ‘wife’s father’, Li. bendras ‘companion/partner / common’, etc.

1. cold

Lubotsky’s examples include some roots where H-metathesis seems difficult:
*g^hleH1d- ‘cool’ > Skt. hlā́dikā- ‘refreshing’, *g^hled-no- >> pra-hlanna- ‘cooling’, hlādate ‘be refreshed’
That is, would *g^hleH1d- really become *H1g^hled- or *g^hH1led-? However, this affords an opportunity to test my theory, since such a cluser might be expected to show a 2nd metathesis to “fix” it:
*g^hleH1d- > hlād-
*g^hH1led- > hlad-
*g^hH1eld- > *g^H1eld- > *jald- > Skt. jaḍa- ‘cold / stiff’
Loss of *l causing retroflexion by Fortunatov’s Law (other ex. in Whalen 2023a, 2024g). Likely also related to *g^()el- > L. gelū ‘cold / frost’, etc., maybe by *g^H1eld- = *g^R^eld- > *g^eldR^- > *g^elR^-. If not due to C-loss, surely anyone would admit that they seem related, whether in my scheme or by affixation. *g^- vs. *g^h- in this context is no problem. For other irregularities in *g(h)Hl-, see:
*g^H2lag^t- > G. gálakt-, L. *ghlakt > *hlakt > lac, *kałzt’in- > Arm. kat’n , *kałc’ > Agulis kaxc’ ‘milk’, Skt. jálāsa- ‘soothing’, *jar-margya- > jā́marya- ‘adj. describing milk’
*g^H2low- > L. glōs ‘husband’s sister’, G. gálōs, Arm. tal, Ph. gélaros ‘brother’s wife’; *kälew > F. käly ‘sister-in-law’
Here, G. gal- vs. L. *ghl- > *hl- > l-; Ph. gélaros (likely *gélawos) doesn’t show expected *g- > k-, *g^(h)- > z-, etc. The Uralic data should not be rejected out of hand. Many roots with *-a- begin with *K-, probably *KH2- to explain *e > *a, etc. More evidence that clusters of *KH- underwent such changes, often > x- (showing *H = *x / *R or similar) in (Whalen 2024c):
*k^H2alH- = *k^xalx^- ? > L. calēre ‘be warm’, Lt. silt ‘grow warm’, salts, Li. šáltas ‘cold’, R. xolod ‘cold’
G. kōphós ‘dull/deaf’, OCS xabiti ‘spoil', xabenŭ ‘woeful/wretched/miserable’
*k^xalpikiko-s ? > Slavic *xolpĭčĭkŭ ‘boy / young servant’, TB kālpśke ‘youth / boy’
*kxamanto-s > R. xomút ‘horse’s harness’, Li. kãmanos ‘leather bridle’
*kxaudh-? > OP xauda- ‘cap’, Av. xaōda- ‘helmet’
G. kúmbos ‘vessel/goblet’, Skt. kumbhá-s ‘japitchewater japot’, Av. xumba-
Skt. kardama- ‘mud’, NP xard ‘muddy place’
etc.

1. ice

There are several problems in PIE *yeg^i- / *ye(:)g^o- ‘ice’. Since *-e:- is usually caused by *H1, older *yeH1g^o- > *H1yeg^o- would fit short vs. long V, just as above. Since many IE cognates show i- vs. yo-stems, *yeH1g^yo- with optional y-dissimilation could be even older. Many of these are reconstructed by others with *-g- not *-g^-, though Kv. ǘć, etc., require *-g^-. These could be reconciled if *y-y > *y-0 also (or sometimes) caused *y-gy > *y-g^. With these ideas, maybe:
*yeH1g^yo- > *yeH1g^o- > Iran. *yāźa- > Sar. yoz, Wx. yaz ‘glacier’ >> Kh. yóoz / yòz ‘ice’
*yeH1g^o- > *H1yeg^o- > ON jaki ‘piece of ice’, H. egā-n ‘ice’, Pr. (y)ǘzu, Kv. ǘć, Kt. yúz
*yeH1g^yo- > *H1yeg^yo- > Celtic *yegi- > OIr aig ‘ice’, W. ia
As more support, there is also 0-grade *iH1g^yo- / *H1ig^o- / etc. > Li. ìžas ‘hoar / rime / slush ice / ice lump’, yžė̃ ‘ice-crust’, yžià ‘ice-floe’. Claims that Iran. *yāźa- came from *yoKo- would not apply to Baltic ī / i variation. This would require H-metathesis (after Winter’s Law, if it was regular).
It is possible that *H = *R could cause dissimilation of *R-r > *R-l, *R-n, etc. (Whalen 2024c). This might be seen in:
*H1yeg^uro- = *R^yeg^uro- > Gmc. *jikula- > ON jökull ‘icicle / glacier’, *R^yeg^uno- > H. eguna-s, MCo. yeyn, Br. yen ‘cold’
These also greatly resemble groups of supposedly non-IE languages, which also share many variants, as does *(H)ye(H)g^(y)- (Whalen 2023b, 2024k):
Kusunda
Ku. yaq ‘hail / snow’, yaGo / yaGu / yaXǝu ‘cold (of weather)’
Uralic
*jäxŋje > *jäŋxe > F. jää ‘ice’, Sm. jiekŋa
*jaŋka ‘ice hole’ in Samoyed (showing *ja- ( > *jä- ) was opt. in all )
*jäxkšV > Mr. jükše- ‘become cold’, F. jä(ä)hty- ‘cool (down)’
*jänte- > Mi. jant-, Z. jed- ‘freeze’
For *-k- vs. -0- in Uralic, the match to *-H- vs. -0- in IE should not be rejected out of hand.
This stem is also very similar to supposed *sriHg(^)os- ‘frost / cold’. Words like G. págos ‘coagulation/frost’ from pḗgnūmi ‘make fast/solid / freeze’ show that a shift ‘stiff(en) > freeze/ice’ is possible. With *R / *H, it allows 0-grade *H1ig^o- (Li. ìžas ‘slush ice) to be the 2nd member of a compound:
*styaH- > Skt. stíyā- ‘stagnant water?’, styāyati ‘stiffen / grow dense / increase’, styāna- ‘grown dense / coagulated / stiffened / thick’
*stiH-iH1g^o- ‘stiff ice’ >> *stiHiH1g^os- > *stHiH1g^os- > *stRiH1g^os- > *sRiH1g^os- > L. frīgus ‘cold’, G. rhîgos ‘frost’
With 2 H’s, it might be more likely to show alternation of *H / *R / *r. Dissimilation of *i-i might be irregular, but *stR- > *sR- is probably regular.
There is also an IE group of words for ‘ice’ with a general resemblance: Alb. (h)akull ‘ice / icy (cold)’, sukull ‘snowflake’ (compound with *kyu- ‘move / rush’ as ‘falling snow’?; *kyew- > Skt. cyav- \ cyu-, OP ašiyava ‘set out’, Arm. č’u ‘departure / journey’, G. -(s)seúomai ‘rush / hurry’), L. gl-aciēs ‘ice’ (compound with gelū ‘cold / frost’). Alone, these would point to *H2ak-ulo-, *H2ak-yo-. Though it’s not easy to tell if they’re related, these roots, supposedly distinct, would be unlikely to add uncommon *-ulo- as in ON jökull. Two with the form *(H)yV(H)K- ‘ice’ being unrelated seems forced, and there is already plenty of unexplained variation within *H1yeg^- itself that does not fit regularity. As above (*paH2k^- / -g^-), the voiced quality of *R allows *yeH1g^yo- = *yeR^g^yo- to be from older *yeR^k^yo- with assimilation, or *yeRk^yo- with 2 assimilations (or metathesis of *Rk^ / *R^k, etc., if *-gy- is older than *-g^y-, as considered above), so *H2 / *H1 and *g^ / *k are not obstacles. It is also unlikely that *-R^g^- is original, since a random cluster happening to contain 2 palatal K/Q is odd.
One possibility concerns *Hy- / *H1-. Two roots seem to show that *H3e- became *H3o-, but some cognates require *H1o- (lost in Hittite) or *yo- / *i- :
*H3york- > *zd- > G. dórkai ‘eggs of lice/etc.’, *Hork- > Arm. ork‘iwn, *Hirk- > *rinksa- > Os. liskä, Skt. likṣā́, A. liiṇṭṣií ‘nit’ (Whalen 2024l)
*H3yonH1os- > L. onus ‘load / burden’, *H3onH1(ye)- ‘carry’ > H. aniya-, impf. anniska- ‘work / carry out’ (Whalen 2024m)
If my *yeH1/H2k(^)- is correct, the same might produce *yaH2k- > *H2yak- > *H1ak-. Since many cognates are in IIr., where *e vs. *a can’t be determined, there’s no way to know how many words in each set are from each V. This means words for ice from both *yak- and *yeg- should be related, by one theory or another.
Lubotsky, Alexander (1981) Gr. pḗgnumi : Skt. pajrá- and loss of laryngeals before mediae in Indo-Iranian
https://www.academia.edu/428966
Whalen, Sean (2023a) Fortunatov’s Law in Context
https://www.reddit.com/IndoEuropean/comments/13zqbv1/fortunatovs\_law\_in\_context/
Whalen, Sean (2023b) Kusunda and IE
https://www.reddit.com/usestlatos/comments/13q0j4k/kusunda\_and\_ie/
Whalen, Sean (2024a) Laryngeals, H-Metathesis, H-Aspiration vs. H-Fricatization, and H-Hardening in Indo-Iranian, Greek, and Other Indo-European
https://www.academia.edu/114276820
Whalen, Sean (2024b) Laryngeals and Metathesis in Greek as a Part of Widespread Indo-European Changes
Whalen, Sean (2024c) Greek Uvular R / q, ks > xs / kx / kR, k / x > k / kh / r, Hk > H / k / kh (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/115369292
Whalen, Sean (2024d) Notes on Proto-Indo-European Words for ‘Chin’ (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/120594274
Whalen, Sean (2024e) The X’s and O’s of PIE H3: Etymology of Indo-European ‘cow’, ‘face’, ‘six’, ‘seven’, ‘eight’ (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/120616833
Whalen, Sean (2024f) Indo-European Alternation of *H / *s (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/114375961
Whalen, Sean (2024g) A Pressing Matter: Soma, Figs, and Fat (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/116917855
Whalen, Sean (2024h) Indo-European *ksw-, Greek *ks / *ts, Cretan Hieroglyphic 045 ‘Saw’ > Linear A *74 = ZE (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/115195305
Whalen, Sean (2024i) Greek *-ts / *-ks / *-ps / *-ws, Brythonic *ma:tri(:)pa: ‘mother’s sister’ (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/115158171
Whalen, Sean (2024j) IE s / ts / ks (Draft)
Whalen, Sean (2024k) Uralic and Tocharian (Draft 2)
https://www.academia.edu/116417991
Whalen, Sean (2024l) Cretan Elements in Linear B, Part Two: *y > z, *o > u, LB *129, LAB *65, Minoan Names (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/114878588
Whalen, Sean (2024m) Etymology of Indo-European *ste(H3)m(o)n- ‘mouth’, *H3onH1os- ‘load / burden’, *H3omH1os- ‘upper back / shoulder(s)’, *H3 / *w, *m-W / *n-W (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/120599623
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Reconstruction:Proto-Indo-European/h₁eyg-
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/ižas

This painful knob has been here for a few days. It feels hard as bone with burned skin on top. I’m not sure if I burned it eating something? I think I’ve always had a small “ridge” in the roof of my mouth but definitely not this big. It’s almost unbearable to eat anything. Help.

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Memory Transcription Subject: Isaiah Lawrence, Terrified Tinkerer
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 22, 2136
Days after the bombing of Earth: 5
I stared up at the green canvas roof of my tent, my mouth hanging open slightly and a blank expression adorning my face. I had been in my cot all morning, not even having the will to get up when the soldiers were giving out breakfast rations. I had slept like a rock, and the soldiers had needed to carry me to the medical tent, where they treated Mister Murphy and my burns. It's strange; I hadn’t even noticed how burned and flakey the skin on my arms and neck had become. The nurse said it was common for people with darker skin not to see it, but I was lucky my injuries were relatively minor compared to what most people got. I didn't feel very lucky, though. In fact, I didn't have the energy to feel much of anything at all. I hadn’t seen Mister Murphy since I had been released to a regular tent, but from what I had overheard, he wasn’t in good shape, but he should recover eventually. I had wanted to go and check on him all day, but the thought of leaving the tent felt so unattainable that he could do nothing but lay there.
“Hey, kid you in there?” I heard a voice from outside. It was the thickly accented voice of Martha, the UN soldier who had saved Mister Murphy yesterday. “Mhm,” I let out a croak that came off more sickly than he expected. “Can I come in?” She said in a maternal tone. “Come in,” I responded with a little more purpose in my voice this time. Martha pushed her wide frame through the flaps adjacent to my cot and crouched down next to me. ”You ok, kid?” she asked. “Ya, the doctors said I-” I was cut off. “I ain't talking about your body.”
“Oh... I.. I don’t know,” I thought for a moment truly at a loss for words at what I was feeling. “That’s ok.” We sat in silence for a moment. “Shouldn’t you be out looking for more survivors with those aliens?” I broke the uncomfortable silence with a question. “Nah, it's my off shift. Not many people have the guts to keep ‘em Arxur under check, so I don’t get a whole lot of time to myself at the moment. But I didn’t enlist with the UN ‘cause I liked alone time…” silence pervaded the tent for a moment more, “You should have seen the look on the new guy's face when he realized he was supposed to look after Turk and Iera! It was hilarious!” Martha broke the silence this time. I had seen a few more aliens last night, and Turk was by far the largest of them. He was well over eight feet tall with legs the size of tree trunks, and Iera wasn’t that much shorter. I sympathize with this new guy in question remembering the horror I had felt seeing them the first time.
“He’ll be ok though.'' Martha assured me, “Despite his looks, Turk is one of the more thoughtful Arxur I've met, and Iera, bless her heart. She’s a little soft in the head, but she’s a real sweetheart.” It took me a second to register what I had heard. Something about what she had just said felt off, “Wait, the shorter one was a girl?!” my voice came out much louder than I had anticipated, and I could see a look of shock on Martha’s face at my outburst. Her look of shock quickly turned into a big smile as she let out a hearty laugh. My face burned red with embarrassment. I buried my head into my hands, wanting to recede from the universe. “Oh, sweety, don’t worry, I just didn’t know you could get that loud. It surprised me.” she struggled for a moment to regain her composure. “Yes, honey, Iera is a woman. It took me a second to be able to tell the difference as well. So, are you feeling any better?” The question brought me back to the present. I couldn't say I felt good, but I did suddenly feel starving. “I feel hungry…”
“That’s a step in the right direction!” She said, much happier than I expected. She looked down to check her worn-looking antique wristwatch, held by a sturdy-looking green nylon strap. “Lunch starts in an hour. Do you want me to get you something from the mess hall now?” Why was she being so nice to me? Not even my parents had ever been this nice. I didn't do anything that deserved this, so why was she so nice? My heart started to stir once again into an inferno of emotion. I could feel my eyes begin to draw on my body's very limited supply of water. “Honey?” Martha said, questioning my long silence. I couldn’t hold my pathetic tears any longer, “Oh no, honey, I didn’t mean... Did I say something?” I didn’t deserve to have such nice things said to me. She doesn't know what I did. My parents knew me the best, and they never liked me, so why would she? I tightly shut my eyes, feeling genuinely overwhelmed by the world. I had utterly failed when it mattered, and now they are dead. I was powerless to staunch the flow of tears. I thought I was going to be trapped in the darkness forever. I felt warmth and reassuring pressure encase me, easing the pain in my heart.
I don’t know how long I sat there leaning into Martha’s shoulder, wrapped in her comforting embrace, but my tears ran dry. Eventually, I slowly gathered the strength to move. I slowly raised my head, and Martha looked at me with a hint of worry on her face. “Are you feeling better?” She asked hesitantly. “a little,” I shakily answered. “Good. I’d like to stay here longer, but my shift starts soon and I have a few more people I wanted to check in on before then. I didn’t want her to leave. I was scared of where I’d go if I were by myself. “I think you should go see the old man as well. I visited him earlier, and he needs to see you, I think.” I nodded my head. I guess I didn’t want to be alone anyway, though the thought of walking to the medical tent was daunting. Martha backed away from my cot, and I forced myself to stand up for the first time all day. We both walked out of the tent. Martha once again had to duck and twist her shoulders to fit her hefty frame through the canvas flaps. I followed closely behind, my legs feeling weak from my injuries. It was overcast outside; most of the ash from the original explosion had settled, but I could feel the remaining particles in the air still tickling my lungs and throat.
Martha turned to face me, “If you need anything, come and find me. Oh! I almost forgot.” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small black pamphlet. “I think you left this in my Jeep.” she handed me the book. I thanked her out of habit before being able to recognize what it was. It was the manual for the bionic arm I had taken from Mister Murphy. I had put it in my pocket the day of the attack, and it must have slipped out while I was asleep in the jeep. I flipped through the pages, marveling at how well the small book had held up to recent events. The interior was perfectly intact, even though the exterior was now dirty and weathered. It didn’t have a blueprint or any technical details about the arm, but it did have very extensive repair and tuning guides, which gave me some insight into what each of the internal pieces does. I had meant to tell Mister Murphy about some interesting details regarding optimizing the arm, but my plans had gotten mildly sidetracked.
Martha and I said our final farewells, and she even gave me a big hug before we set out in opposite directions. I wish I had Martha’s courage; I couldn’t Imagine being in charge of watching those murderous aliens. I thought as I wandered through the hundreds of emergency tents. I was a damned soul, a patricidal sinner, and I should have been killed for what I had done. I don’t think I could ever deserve kindness from anyone, especially not someone as awesome as Miss Martha. I kept my head down and avoided eye contact with everyone I passed as I slowly marched forward, searching for the triage tent where my only living friend remained.
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A/N - Chapter 9, primed and ready! Sorry for the long wait, but I had a big move, and I am only now feeling back on top of my life. I am much busier than I was before, but hopefully this will be the longest everyone will have to wait for a chapter. Also, we are getting very close to the actual blood sport part of this fanfic(in case you forgot what this was supposed to be about). Thank you all for your understanding. See you next chapter!!!