Reddit Account: u/spyraxes
Discord Tag: spyraxes
Name and House: Visenya Targaryen
Age: 54
Cultural Group: Valyrian
Appearance: Visenya is a woman covered head to toe in striking features. With silver-gold hair worn braided or bound, allowing herself easy motion and vision in combat, purple eyes that stare from a harsh face with deep cheekbones and stern expressions, the Bloody Queen is a dominant figure in courtly and martial situations. Some say she bathes in blood to keep her youth, others that her rigorous training and love for battle keeps her body fit. Whatever the case, Visenya is a unique and unsettling woman.
Trait: Strong
Skill(s): Dragonrider, Swords (e), Essosi Blademaster (e)
Talent(s): Training, Glaring, Thinking Deeply About Things
Negative Trait(s): too cool
Starting Title(s): Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Lady of Mooncrest, Mother of the True King, the Bloody Queen, Wielder of Dark Sister, Rider of Vhagar
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters: jesus christ its day 1 dont make me alt please!
Name and House: Marsella Egen
Age: 24
Cultural Group: Valeman
Appearance: Marsella is as cold-faced as her Queenly mistress, though more prone to smiles creeping through. She is tall, broad-shouldered, with a powerful build shaped by years of training and journeying the realm. Her hair is red and cut short, her face scarred and her green eyes deep-set and surrounded by scars.
Trait: Hale
Skill(s): Two-Handed Weapons (e), Brute
Talent(s): Dancing, Drinking, Gambling
Negative Trait(s): n/a
Starting Title(s): Sworn Sword to Lae Targaryen, Heir to Mooncrest, Cavalier
Starting Location: Opening Event
—

Bio-Timeline

• 29 BC - Visenya Targaryen is born, the first child of Aerion Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone, and his wife Valaena Velaryon.
• 27 BC - Only a few years later, the boy who would later become the Conqueror, Aegon Targaryen, is born. His betrothal to Visenya is arranged almost the moment he is swaddled.
• 25 BC - Rhaenys Targaryen, youngest of the trio, joins the family. She is the last Targaryen born before the Conquest.
• 21 BC - Visenya begins to train with Lord Quenton Qoherys, Master-at-Arms of Dragonstone, and shows exceptional skill at arms. Later on, Aegon and Rhaenys both join her in practising their swordplay. Visenya always seems to get an edge, despite their shared significant skill.
• 14 BC - Between training sessions, Visenya finds herself exploring quiet places on Dragonstone. It is during one of these outings that she comes across one of the island’s non-human occupants. Vhagar, one of the smaller dragons on the island, bonds quickly with her. It takes a few months of bonding, but Visenya quickly becomes close to the beast - and soon enough she becomes its one and only rider.
• 9 BC - As arranged many years before, Aegon and Visenya wed. It is a marriage of duty, but all know Aegon holds love for his younger sister over the elder. Visenya holds no resentment. She knows duty and love cannot always intermingle, but she will do hers.
• 7 BC - Rhaenys and Aegon marry two years later in a pivot from tradition. Visenya spends more time with Vhagar and less with her siblings in the wake of it, though her love for Aegon does not dull. She remains close with the pair even with her physical distance.
• 2 BC - After a while of planning and plotting, the three Targaryens fly forth to conquer Westeros. House Stokeworth fell to Vhagar’s flames, and Duskendale knelt to the Queen after the fall of their army in Aegon’s first test. With the lands that would later become the core of Targaryen dominion secured, Aegon was crowned King of All Westeros, a crown placed atop his head by his elder sister and his title proclaimed by his younger. As the Stormlands fall to Rhaenys, and Harrenhal to Aegon, Visenya finds herself tasked with the conquest of the Vale. After destroying the region’s fleet, though not without losing a large portion of the Targaryen navy itself, Visenya circles back to Blackwater Bay, landing in Crackclaw Point and accepting the oaths of fealty of the local lords in the wake of Harrenhal’s destruction. With the Claw pacified, Visenya flies to join her siblings once more. They take a smaller force to the Reach, to meet an army of the Gardeners and Lannisters in battle. Nearly through dragonfire alone, the armies of Reach and West crumble, House Gardener nearly becomes extinct, and House Lannister kneels to the new royal house. Visenya receives an injury in the battle, taking an arrow to the shoulder, but it does nothing to hamper her skill.
• 1 BC - In the wake of the Field of Fire, Visenya retreats to the Aegonfort to recover from her injury. It does not take long for her to return to action, though, joining her siblings at the Trident to await the arrival of a Northern host led by the King of Winter. Visenya has no qualms with burning every Northman who wishes to cross the river, but Torrhen’s surrender is a move she views as wise. With the northern border secure, Visenya deals with her only loose end once and for all. On dragonback, she travels to the Eyrie as the Queen Regent of the Vale amasses an army, her attempt to arrange a marriage between herself and Aegon a failure. Visenya’s arrival is met by the young King, who sits himself up on her lap to await Sharra Arryn’s arrival. When she turns up, Ronnel asks to fly on dragonback - and that is enough to make Sharra capitulate, handing over the crown of Mountain and Vale to the dragonrider. Visenya’s act of mercy endears her to the young king and his mother, who becomes a close companion of Visenya in later years.
• 1 AC - With the Conquest brought to an end, besides the Dornish and the Ironborn homeland, the royal family fly to Oldtown to witness the crowning of Aegon I Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. To gain the sympathies of the people, the Targaryens convert to the Faith of the Seven - though Visenya holds fast to her Valyrian beliefs behind closed doors, unwilling to abandon her heritage to please those who she conquered. With Aegon’s victory, King’s Landing’s construction becomes the focus of the realm. For a while, anyway. During this initial period of peace, one attempt is made on the life of the King, with Visenya putting down the assassins. Aegon believes his guards are more than sufficient usually, and she proves him wrong by opening up his cheek with the tip of Dark Sister before any of his men can respond. Not long after, Ser Corlys Velaryon is named Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and six knights are selected to join him in an act honouring the false gods of Westeros.
  • Far from the capital, in Mooncrest, a daughter is born to Lord Lyn Egen and his wife. She is named Marsella.
• 2 AC - Once again, the peace is fractured. House Sunderland resumes their rebellion against House Arryn and the Crown, and the Ironborn continue to war with Westeros as a whole. Whilst Aegon deals with the raiders to the west, the Queen flies north and puts down Queen Marla Sunderland and her rebels, turning the hold of House Sunderland and the entire line to ash, naming House Borrell as overlords of the Sisters, and bidding them swear fealty to House Stark of Winterfell in place of the young Lord Arryn. Before returning to King’s Landing, she takes a quick stop at the Eyrie to berate the Lady Regent for her negligent handling of the situation - though she leaves with a far more forgiving stance, and perhaps a touch of regret for her harsh decision.
• 3 - 7 AC - Visenya assumes a position in the royal court enforcing Aegon’s will, assisting the Kingsguard in protecting him from attacks, and providing an intimidating presence for those who would overstep their bounds. She maintains contact with the Arryns of the Vale, letters flying back and forth to keep her friendship with the Lady Regent alive. She gives and receives advice, whiles away time writing, and promises to visit.
• 7 AC - At a feast to celebrate the seventh anniversary of the Conquest, during one of Rhaenys’ visits to Dorne, the King is attacked. Goldcloaks perform the assassination attempt in great numbers, and the force of Visenya and the Kingsguard isn’t enough to stop them from getting to Aegon and wounding him. Despite their failure to protect him, the fight ends in royal favour as Ser Malwyn Blackwood takes some of the assailants captive and Visenya tends to the fallen king. He is unresponsive but alive, and Orys promises to take care of him whilst the prisoners are interrogated. Reluctantly, the Queen agrees. It does not take long for the truth to be revealed - that House Tully of Riverrun plotted the attack, in an attempt to kill the King. It seemed unlikely that they would fail, in the end, but Visenya refused to let them see their day of victory. Only she is told, and she acts immediately, leaving the city on the back of Vhagar and heading towards Riverrun with only one objective in mind. When she reaches the castle, there is little hesitation - fire envelops the people and the structures, turning all to ash. No Tully survives, in her reckoning, and she takes the signet ring of Lord Edmyn as proof of her victory and their failure. Naming the land Aegon’s Rest, she pens a writ bestowing it upon Baelor Belaerys, a man in her husband’s service and descendant of dragonlords of old, and names Lord Lannister the overlord of the territory. She returns to King’s Landing, but her visit does not last long - when Aegon’s death is confirmed, and the Master of Laws reveals the plans to split governance three ways, she leaves for the Vale almost immediately. She only stays around long enough to have her pregnancy confirmed - an heir to the throne.
• 7 - 10 AC - It doesn’t take long for Visenya to arrive at the Eyrie, welcomed in her grief by Sharra and her children. She is visibly pregnant, and her small retinue settles in well. Most of her time is spent with the Lady Regent and the children, and the birth of her first child - who she names Laenor - is no deterrent from that. In fact, it often seems that Visenya has more affection for her host’s children than her own. She becomes almost a second mother to the Lord of the Eyrie and his three siblings. Despite her closed-off nature, she finds a constant companion in Sharra Arryn, and becomes as close to friends as she can with many others present in the castle including Lord Lyn Egen, an advisor to the Lady Regent. She splits her time between training, flying, the children, and her own heir.
• 10 AC - Ronnel Arryn comes of age, and is wedded to Serena Stark. It is an arrangement made by Rhaenys, one that infuriates Visenya to no end initially. She becomes irate at Sharra, but quickly turns around and accepts it. Their relationship remains warm and close. However, nearing the end of the year, Sharra dies. Once more, Visenya retreats into herself, spending most of the days in the sky on Vhagar’s back alone. She is convinced to return to life by the Arryn children, and continues to raise them into adulthood. Without Sharra, it is a harder task, but one she confronts all the same.
• 13 AC - Despite their devotion to the Seven, gods Visenya only considered to be hers in name, the formation of the Cavaliers brings joy to the Queen in the Mountains. She places her support behind the order, continuing her return to public life within the Vale. She takes on the duty of training the daughter of her good friend Lord Egen, teaching young Marsella how to fight. Despite their difference in weaponry - Visenya’s preference for smaller longswords versus Marsella’s for large hefty greatswords - the two get along fiercely well.
• 15 AC - When news of the tragedy in the Kingswood reaches the Eyrie, Visenya sends her condolences to the regent for the deaths under his watch. There is something cold about the way it is written.
• 16 AC - News of Dorne’s integration into the Seven Kingdoms pleases her no more than the Kingswood Catastrophe, especially when the stipulation upon which it happened is made known to her. Unwilling to dishonour the deal, Visenya ensures that she has it in writing that Laenor will one day marry the Princess of Dorne’s daughter, but she is irate over Rhaenys’ move - but also a little proud of her younger sister for outmanoeuvring her.
• 19 AC - After a long period of courting and an even longer period of talking, a wedding is held at Mooncrest between Visenya Targaryen and Lord Lyn Egen. There is jubilation, a tournament, a grand feast, and perhaps the first real smile on the lips of Visenya since the death of Sharra Arryn. It is proof that there is still a drop of the old Visenya beneath the cold, disconnected surface, that very few see. It is not the end of ceremony for the Egens in that year, as Marsella is inducted into the Cavaliers. She is sworn to protect Laenor Targaryen, too, her sibling and friend.
• 20 AC - Early in the year, after a prolonged illness, Lyn’s eldest daughter Carolei passes. There is sorrow in Mooncrest, but it is solved in part by good news. Just a year and a bit after their wedding, Visenya and Lyn’s first and only child is born, a young girl named Maegelle. She is Lyn’s third daughter, second living, and only one present in Mooncrest - Marsella left a note in the wake of her sister’s death that she was taking some time for herself in Essos and would be back when she viewed it right. Some wonder if she is participating in Orys’ plans to create closer relations with Essos, but the Egens know that is unlikely - Marsella cares little for politics and less for the enemies of her father’s wife.
• 20 - 25 AC - Visenya and Lyn remain quiet at Mooncrest and the Eyrie, engaging in politics and plotting and regular court life (moreso for the latter than the former), as Laenor becomes more and more shaped into the ruler they’re meant to become. Meanwhile, across the Narrow Sea, Marsella becomes more grizzled a warrior, serving with the Lost Legion before their arrival in Westeros, meeting the Blue Sails and their leader Helya Harlaw and joining them briefly, and taking on mercenary work across the Free Cities and the Disputed Lands for anyone who would pay for a Westerosi warrior. Her contact with Mooncrest is limited, bearing only a few words attached to packages for Laenor alone.
• 25 AC - As Laenor comes of age, and the realm at large is summoned to King’s Landing to celebrate the namedays of her and Rhaenys’ children, Visenya prepares for the worst - her sister will not move aside easily, and she knows well enough that Rhaenys might have to be forced. But there is no doubt in her mind that she is ready for it - she just prays the realm is to join her. From the East, Marsella returns, ready to see her kin and friends for the first time in half a decade. She is not the same woman she once was.

—

Family Tree

House Egen
House Targaryen
—

Supporting Characters

Lord Lyn Egen - b. 24 BC - Archetype: General - Wise and a touch ferocious, Lyn is a skilled commander and a protective father, ready to do whatever he can to protect his daughters and Visenya’s own child. Skilled enough with a sword but more comfortable ahorse or behind a commander’s desk, the man who served as Keeper of the Gates of the Moon during the Conquest and was ready to cut his teeth against dragonfire now acts as the most loyal and proud follower of the very Queen who conquered his lands, his own wife.
Lorra Egen - b. 6 AC - Archetype: Builder - Despite the martial inclination of much of House Egen, Laenor is not the only occupant of Mooncrest who has grasped numbers well. Lorra Egen is a skilled mathematician in her own right, left in charge of the finances of the castle when her distant step-kin isn’t there to run them, and often assisting them in doing so. She is prim and proper and prone to judgement, but she is kind at heart. No niece of Lyn Egen would survive not being so, in truth.

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

So this all started in 2016, I was smoking a bong and had a crazy coughing attack that felt like a knocked something loose.
Ever since then my symptoms vary from day to day but whenever I have a gerd break through I get all of them at once.
Dizzy Anxiety Fluid build up in ear Ringing in the ears Thick mucus Chest pressure or head pressure that migrates Constant dull Pain between shoulders Metallic/Sour taste in my mouth Headaches with auras Sinus fluid build up Rapid heart beat Post nasal Horse voice Nausea Bloating Shortness of breathing A disconnect feeling between my upper and lower body Extremely dry eyes Trouble moving bowls and when I do I immediately get reflux
I’ve been on all the meds you can think of and every test under the sun.
Yesterday I had my second endo and they were finally able to give me some feedback as apposed to saying “Everything looks fine”
Something about an irregular z line, they biopsied
Hiatal hernia
Bile in my stomach
And redness in my stomach they biopsied
They also found polyps but they said that’s normal with the meds I take
I’m just happy this time they actually found something to put a finger on because it’s been making me feel like I’m crazy.

Before someone tells me to "improve my appearance", I have already done the best I can for that. Gym. Diet. Exercise. Skincare. Style. Clothing. Cologne, etc. Yet it hasn't changed the fact that I am moderately balding as a 20 year old (the fully bald look is HORRIBLE on me), Indian in a white majority country (we are heavily discriminated against especially based on our appearance and lack of widespread sexual appeal), short at 5'5 AND AUTISTIC, all at the same time. When you ask a woman the characteristics of a man they will find the most repulsive, she is most likely going to think of me as i share all the traits that women generally find unappealing. I know there are women who like the bald look, or who like short guys, or who like indian guys or autistic guys, but it is going to be extremely rare to find a woman who will be appealed by someone who has all of these traits as they generally considered to be conventionally unattractive traits.
My Experiences and why I believe the above to be true:
Growing up, as an autistic undiagnosed person, not only was I bullied for my lack of social skills, kids and then teens in high school never failed to mention the fact that I was indian and of a different skin colour and how short I was. When I started balding in late high school, the bullying got very bad, almost unbearable. I have been able to make friends but I have now realised they were all really just pity friends who kind of adopted me under their wing coz they felt sorry for me. I have never been able to actually make a proper friend in my entire life until very recently in the past 3 years talking to other autistics. Especially with other girls and women. They were relentless in my school years, especially white girls. I have this weird trauma surrounding trying to befriend girls and its a major reason why I have basically zero romantic or sexual experience as a 20 year old.
Basically, what Im trying to say is that due to the unique combination of being both repulsive to look at and repulsive to talk to most men and women choose to ignore or avoid me as best they can. If i was just a regular neurotypical, it wouldnt matter how i would look coz i would always be able to compensate for it with social skills.
Why I think being an attractive autistic is MORE LIKELY to be a better experience
I have made a bunch of autistic friends online and in real life from meetups over the past 3 years. Ive noticed that the ones that fit into society's definition of conventional attractiveness (if your a guy, being tall, white, having a jawline) tend to be much better at masking and being liked by everyone. NTs are more likely to perceive their social deficiencies and autistic behaviours as more like "cute and quirky" personality traits rather than being "creepy and weird" like how they treat and think about me. I live in Australia, literally the land of the tall attractive blondes. One of the people I met at an autism meetup (lets call him aaron) looks like the tennis player matteo berrettini and is around 6'2 in height. Every time I meetup with this man at a public place like a restaurant, he ALWAYS gets approached by women of all ages. I asked him if he likes the attention and he told me that due to the constant approaches, he has basically learnt via trial and error the way to mask properly. And I agree with him because the way he talks, the professionalism and maturity he shows is very NT like. I wish I could have an experience like this. But I cannot because I have to push through the trauma in order to approach women adn other people for friendship. I have tried so hard to escape this social anxiety, even going to the lengths of self-harming via hitting myself yet it still cannot calm my anxiety when i try to approach and start a conversation with someone. Im scared they will notice my lack of social skills, or my unattractive appearance, or my balding head or my height, etc.
Another reason why I think being hot as an autistic is more likely to increase your quality of life is that due these constant appraoches and clout that you gain just by existing, the masking skills you learn combined with the happiness, confidence and validation you earn from having friends and a romantic partneromantic experiences will make it much easier to survive in a work environment.
Im not saying that conventionally attractive people with autism dont struggle. Ive heard stories from some about how their conventional attractiveness causes NTs to expect more from them socially and as a result, they end up getting gaslit and bullied when they dont meet those expectations. However, saying that this is a worse or same experience as being an unattractive autistic is very offensive to me. I would rather have the struggles of a hot autistic vs an ugly one any day lol. I mean its up to you tbh. But if you really believe that being a conventionally unattractive person with autism would be a better experience than a hot one, I really dont understand you and it makes me curious. I would like an explanation if your willing to share the reason.
There was this girl in uni that I was talking to. She was indian like me and very attractive. We were doing the same courses and everything and she told me how she had ADHD. She was pretty and ND? Perfect. Loves tennis like me. Always we talking about marvel and dc sh*t. Loves video games. Etc. I was so happy that a girl was talking to me like this so freely you know. But she only did this in class. I tried asking her once for a coffee and she made some excuse about having work right after class but i saw her at subway on campus like a few minutes after class anyways. I couldnt deal with pain of wanting to be with her so bad so I asked her out. She told me I was a creep and that I was so childlike and immature. She told me to go and learn how to be a man before i talk to women. I realise now that she never even saw me as a friend. Just a friendly acquaintance at uni. And I must have freaked her out with how i asked her out. Recently I saw on her public socials that shes with this mid looking white dude.
Ultimately, if you wish to socially conform, have friends, a job and a loving partner, you must either be conventionally attractive and/or neurotypical. I feel like most people in society are unattractive neurotypicals and they rely on social skills to achieve those 3 things. It compensates for the lack of physical appeal. And the fact that I cannot even do this and I am f*cked in both my physical appearnace and my neurotype makes me feel so worthless and defective. I understand now why people were always like this to me. Im just not meant for this world. Im a genetic failure.
I always use maladaptive daydreaming to escape this reality. I dream about being a tall, attractive white guy with fluffy hair and whos neurotypical. I always dream of being that guy that just effortlessly is able to make friends, be likeable and get dates and find a loving girl like that indian chick i met in class. Why couldnt I at least have one of those traits of either being conventionally attractive or neurotypical like 99% of other humans?
I feel so awful being so extremely lucky enough to be born in a rich developed country like australia and yet not being able to reap the socioeconomic rewards of it due to my condition. It feels like spite from god. I feel so insanely awful of all those other NTs in the world that are perfectly suited to make the most of life in a rich devleoepd country like mine but cannot due to the place they were born. I feel so awful for all those in palestine right now who are living in fear that they will die and dreaming of beign in my place whilst I sit here crying everyday after forcing myself to talk to people where I cannot even make the most basic conversation.

Hey Guys! These two ingredients have transformed my life. Having suffered for decades with crohn's and tired of the risks of the medications i was being offered I found a natural way to manage my condition. I have been able to get off all my prescriptions now for over two years and just use my GI relief and repair supplement from peaklife4u.com, 3 capsules in the AM and 3 in the PM in conjunction with 5 grams a day of L glutamine powder mixed into a glass of water. This combined with daily meditation to help lower my stress levels has been a game changer.
Now this is not a magic bullet that will transform you overnight or give instant relief like prednisone but over 30-60 days these ingredients can help reset your gut biome which is critical in reducing the inflammation that is the cause of most of the symptoms associated with these digestive disorders.
I know how it feels to think your only choice is what you are currently taking. (and for me the medications were still not working) But you have to think about treating the cause and not just the symptoms. Getting your gut biome back in balance can dramatically change your health, energy and mindset.
**L-Glutamine: The Gut's Best Friend**
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Additionally, L-glutamine has been shown to support immune function and reduce inflammation in the gut, further contributing to symptom relief in these conditions.
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Furthermore, humic acid exhibits potent anti-inflammatory properties, which can provide much-needed relief for individuals experiencing flare-ups of Crohn's or IBD symptoms. By calming inflammation in the gut, humic acid may help alleviate abdominal pain, cramping, and diarrhea.
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Of course, it's essential to consult with a healthcare professional before incorporating any new supplements into your regimen, especially if you have a pre-existing medical condition or are taking medication. However, for many individuals with Crohn's, IBS, or IBD, L-glutamine and humic acid could be valuable additions to their wellness toolkit.
Have you tried L-glutamine or humic acid for gut health? Share your experiences and insights in the comments below!
Steve.

So I just got back from a 5 min doctors appointment where essentially nothing was checked and I was told I had fibromyalgia.
About 3 weeks ago I had what appeared to be a gastritis flair up , but also pain from lower back to side of ribs and even in the flank area. It feel like constipation cramps in my back flank area ngl. It was constant as well. After an urgent care visit they told me it wasn’t kidney stones and may have been anxiety.
Fast forward 3 weeks , the constipation like cramps have gone away and my stomach issues have gotten better. But now I’m having rib cage pain , chest pain and what feels like throat stiffness pain. I almost feel like my throats closing up constantly. I can breath fine and take deep breaths but my sternum feels sore and this winded feeling comes and goes. Definitely gets worse with anxiety and the pain at worse gets to a 5 and the lowest is like a 2. It’s mostly like dull achy, sometimes burning pain. Both side of my ribs constantly ache and also the pain is at the bottom rib on both sides. The pain tends to shift all over the place. Even on my upper back. Like yesterday sitting in my computer chair made my back hurt , it felt sore
My issue is I sat in the doctors office explained everything then he told me it could be fibromyalgia and prescribed me antidepressants that can help with the pain. This was all in the matter of 5 mins. Taking vitals took longer. I have really bad health anxiety and usually have a hard time believing doctors but this time idk just seem like it could be something else

Cliff notes: PCOS diagnosis 12ish years ago. Long history of GI symptoms that resolved entirely after excision surgery in 2021. Endo was found on ovaries, uterosacral ligaments, and cul-de-sac. Endo pain and GI symptoms started up again 3 months post op and slowly got worse. Did 2 rounds of pelvic floor therapy in last 3 years. Saw a new endo specialist who referred me to GI and Endocrinology. GI did bloodwork, stool sample, breath test. All came back normal except breath test showed SIBO (small intestine bacterial overgrowth - common w IBS). No inflammation in intestines, no celiac, nothing abnormal in blood/stool. I’ll start antibiotics for the SIBO as soon as insurance approves coverage of the antibiotic. Endocrinology appt is in July. Endo specialist follow-up is in August.
Current meds: Metformin XR, Mirena IUD, Amitriptyline, spironolactone, adderrall (yay ADHD). Also have scripts for cyclobenzaprine and dicyclomine for pain flares.
Current symptoms: most days wake up with severe lower abdominal/pelvic cramping, most days have bleeding during bowel movements & irregular bowels (sometimes w lightning butt), can’t lose weight even with diet and exercise, occasional extreme fatigue, migraines, lower back and pelvic pain, bloating.
Question: anyone else have similar symptoms and be told it’s just IBS? I’m skeptical. Overall I am doing better than I was before endo surgery, but I wish there were more options for relief and pain prevention. I feel like IBS is just a catch all for GI symptoms that they don’t have any other explanation for. I’m concerned it could be endo but if given an IBS diagnosis then the endo theory will be dismissed.

As painful as it may be Ain't nothing like piece of mind Ain't nothing like being free Rather than doing or wasting time!
Let's be clear About this 143yr old charade The end is not, nor has it ever been near We all got played!!
The governing bowel Carved your brain with a rusted obsidian knife But it's time to throw in the towel And move on with real life!
After five long decades, it's really time to go The organization is null The bleeding will eventually slow And the pain will gradually dull.
You wanna know how I know It's because I was a victim, too I tried to tap dance for the show I repeatedly tried to see it through!
But there is nothing there It's just a dead-end road A heavy cross to bear A heavy, heartless man-made load!
And don't think I don't care As my heart wants to explode I suffer silently in my despair Longing for the org to implode!
They screwed me up as a person I don't blame you for being mad But I was so deeply hurting Jusr so debilitatingly sad.
Mere men behind the curtain Stole my mother, my dad and everything else I could have had From there, it all worsened It messed me up really bad!
But at nearly 52, my light has gotten brighter The cult is no longer winning My grip on reality has gotten tighter My world is no longer spinning!
I can see everything so clear... The misogyny, the gaslighting, the emotional manipulation and blackmail- It was all someone else's brokenness and bullshit! There is absolutely nothing to fear... There is only freedom to think, feel, live authentically, laugh and love unconditionally and there ain't nothing like it!!🙌🏾
To my beloved child who were taken from me physically, mentally and emotionally long before I even had half the chance or fortitude to defend myself, I say this,
I'm so sorry for any pain I've caused you. Most has been unintentional or done out of being hurt. I know I can't make up for 5 decades of damage and cult dynamics but organization aside, I love you with all my being and I wish I hadn't been a victim (damn near born in) of this soul sucking cult! Things would have been so different. I could have been a better mother, more mentally and emotionally mature and stable, so we could have had a normal, healthy, loving relationship. But I was emotionally neglected and abused. I was existing in a fog and I didn't know any better and even when I did, I was outnumbered, (bullied) penalized and ostracized and absolutely discouraged from trying to establish and pursue a relationship with you. These are not excuses, only factors that contribute to who I am and how I messed up so badly. As is evident, I can't beat them but I now know the truth about "the truth" and I certainly will not join them, participate in or condone their self sabotaging delusions which destroy lives and families on sooo many levels! But that has nothing to do with my love for you or anyone else I love. I just wanted you to know this as you move forward in life. I'm not the monster you think I am, nor do you know the full sordid story. You only know one version, which is an ugly distorted portrait of me. I hope one day you wake up and see EVERYTHING and EVERYONE for what it really is. I did not leave my family or God. I left the organization and stopped following corporate, corrupt MEN. As the 2nd president, Joseph Rutherford, of the WTBTS, states, "Religion is a racket and a snare." There should be no mediator between a person and God except for Jesus Christ. DO NOT BE MISLEAD, I have always loved you and I always will.
With unconditional love,
The misguided and broken girl that gave birth to you💔😭
Do you guys think I should give them this, change, or add anything to it?🤷🏾

I want to start of first by saying I really mean no offence to anyone. I believe and understand this is a super serious condition. I feel it’s just no the right diagnosis for me.
I’m starting to really question whether I FND.
I was “diagnosed” with it by a medical neurologist (not a full neurologist, they have a degree but only really do the reports and stuff for lawyers), who after doing all the test was like “uh, I don’t know, looks like nerve damage” and wrote it down as Functional Nerve damage. Also stating things like, “noted function fine, when encouraged” this so called ‘function’ he talks about, was when doing the pin prick test. Was shoving it hard into my legs, and when I didn’t feel anything, stabbed it hard into my stomach with the same force as my legs causing me to scream out hard in pain. My boyfriend who was there, had watched all the tests where I was so called “just needing encouragement”. Even the one reporting “able to stand fine”, my “standing” was literally being held up by both my boyfriend and the Dr himself why shaking and in incredible pain. I wasn’t even able to stay up for very long. But according to his report, I can “stand without assistance”. I was literally straining so much trying to move and bend as he asked, the veins in my head were popping out and I was red form exertion.
I’ve been try to receive help for my condition now, and because they called it FND, they’re saying it’s just trauma and needing physo and therapy. But here’s the thing. I’ve been now doing extensive physo since November. And before that I was doing regular physo as I have hyper mobility, and am constantly dislocating things. I’ve done extensive therapy, to the point where I actually now have and can teach DBT and CBT to others and have the successfully use the techniques.
If this really was FND, I feel like I would have seen, at least some, improvement by now. I’m so upset and mad, cause I can’t get to see a proper neurologist as I’m literally facing homelessness and lost my job cause of this disability.
I don’t even have a lot of the other symptoms, like seizures, I see a lot of others facing. It’s literally just lower limb paralysis with no/limited feeling and the wrong sensory imput in it.
I’m don’t know, I’m just getting so upset and frustrated. I’m at a lost, and really want any support.

First < Previous Next >
I snap my head back down, with renewed vigour and hope about communicating with everyone without needing to play charades. With the knowledge that this is a microphone, my mind swims with the possibilities. If they can grow quartz crystals, they may be able to refine and grow silicon crystals, effectively making computers. Getting back on track, I add a resistor above the tremorsense and attach a ground wire below it. Tapping off between the resistor and tremorsense, I look to Silvra and gesture towards the translator.
“And what do you think you are doing?” She remarks, eying the setup with a mix of scepticism and intrigue. Her arms were folded, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“Just because you may be able to overhaul our entire way of life, does not mean I will give you something worth half a year’s wage. You best get to explaining yourself.”
Taking a deep breath, I sketched a quick diagram on the paper between us. I outlined how the piezoelectric effect of the tremorsense could convert sound into electrical signals that the translator could interpret. “It’s like turning vibrations into voices,” I explained, hoping the simplicity of the analogy would bridge the gap my technical terms could not.
“It…should work. Why has no one thought of this before?!” Silvra asks eagerly, reaching for even more paper, with Thallion leaning in to take notes as we possibly cross the language barrier.
Silvra passes me the translator, and carefully I place the tap wire on the central nub, and the ground on the body, similar to how their hands work with the metallic pin and the rest of their hand. I then reach for my phone and attach the power to the resistor, and the ground to the body of the translator as well.
I speak.
“can you hear me?” I ask, apprehensively, hoping I did not just blow up the device. It’s faint whine either being a really good thing, or a very bad thing.
“What was that?!” Lena turns around, after staring off into space as we got technical.
“i said, can you hear me?”
“yes we can!” Lena exclaims, not through the device, but from across the table, her eyes wide with astonishment.
“I can too. it is a little dull, but we can hear you. and you can hear us! without us touching it!” Thallion remarks,
I notice that yes, I can hear them, but rather than being melodic and transferring all the intent behind the meaning of the word, translating the emphasis, it comes across as dull, flat and lifeless, like text to speech readers. I find it quite painful to listen to.
“Perhaps it's a minor calibration issue,” I suggested, already thinking about adjustments to enhance the voice modulation.
“maybe i can sound like a robot for now, but perhaps, you should continue playing hot potato with the translator?”
“forget that!” Silvra remarks. “i may sound flat, but i don’t have to pass the device around! i can just leave it on a desk somewhere and it will just work!”
“not only is this an overhaul in this device, but think of the implications. we can talk across species without needing to touch very complex systems. we may even be able to communicate with animals, Lena!”
Lena perks up at this, “if i could talk to them, then i may be able to convince the big ones to leave us alone, but I worry about what that means if they are truly intelligent.”
Looking back at the device, I think back to the little I remember for analog electronics. The device can pass emotion and translate it, so it is capable of doing so. Maybe there is an issue with the prefilter? I could possibly fix that.
“silvra, it is amazing that we can talk, but I find it painful to listen to all of you due to the robotic voice. i think i can fix it. do you have the schematics for the device?”
“i don’t know what robot is, but i am guessing the flat sound, i do have drawings, let me go get them”
Silvra heads out, and Tallion is writing down everything. Lena is leaning over his shoulder.
“i know you are upset, but what you did is monumental, communication without contact, translation without touch. just remember that you are using your phone for power!” Lena states. I cannot tell emotion but bittersweet is all I can get.
Silvra enters again, knocking the snow off her clothes carrying some yellowed paper. Placing them down before me, I look across them.
“maybe increase the power input? That usually works for us. More space for clarity, or something,” Thallion adds, trying to be helpful.
I shake my head no, trying to ignore what he just said, based on the fact that is how humanity killed the first transatlantic cables. It is not a power issue as the device turns on, but a warping or nonlinearity of the data itself.
After a few moments of staring at the schematics, I find the input and the first thing I see is the massive choke directly after the input.
“a ha! found it!” I exclaim, reaching for the toolkit that Silvra brought over a few days ago. “just need to remove the choke at the front!”
“before you go voiding the warranty on this, why would that solve anything? that is how we regulate the flow of power!”
“i make direct current from my phone, so i don’t need to regulate it, in fact, that choke is destroying all high frequencies. i will talk about it if this works.”
“ok, but i’ll dismantle it. just point out the part on the schematic, and provide a jumper to cross over the holes”
Sighing, I grab the cables from the toolbox, along with the soldering iron and candle. Silvra grabs the components from me, and carefully unscrews the ground bell from around the power pin. Finding the power pin’s input into the interior, there is a large coil. Silvra quickly removes the coil and puts the jumper in its place.
Reassembling it, she gestures for me to talk. Taking a deep breath, and reconnecting my phone, I talk.
“Good afternoon everyone! And welcome to a new era! One of power for all!”
“I can hear you loud and clear!” Silvra exclaims, jumping up from the table.
“Astounding! Decoding the schematic and removing the choke did solve the problem!” Thallion replies.
“It worked before, and now it works better, I still think the first is more important to document”, Lena interjects, clearly getting bored of all of this tech talk
“So, Silvra,” I mention, “removing the choke works due to the same way the coil of wire moves coins: magnetism. Over the next few days we’ll be going over this in a lot more detail, but the choke does not choke the current, it converts it into magnetism, which is then released later. A changing current results in a changing magnet inside. It is very weak but enough to smooth input ripples, and stretch out the input spike slightly, which is probably why it is there in the first place.”
“But it comes with a downside. It acts stronger on faster switching pulses than on slow ones. My dc power has only an on pulse, but the signal of my voice is made of many higher vibrations. The choke would have killed this high frequency, and would have only passed the lower, which would be the fundamental frequencies only, sounding flat. The translator would then only be able to act on this flattened signal.”
“Now, I only got about half of that, but it stores the current as something called magnetism, saving it for later, and smoothing out the input,” Thallion states, looking up from his notes.
“Exactly. Think of it like a dam. Takes the surges and smooths them out, but you lose the changes caused by individual rainfalls”
“So what exactly is magnetism?”
“That is a good question, and contains several fields, chemistry, physics, all of what we classify as science. It will look like magic to you, but any sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from science. Just be ready to learn.
“Does this make the motor thing spin?” Lena asks.
“Yes, yes it does.” I reply, looking at my phone and the power slowly but steadily dropping.

How do you do it?
I have the same story as many others here. I have lived a pretty healthy lifestyle, athlete in high school and afterwards, only slowed down in recent years (I'm 47, now it's mostly gardening, walking, hiking, etc., but not regular daily exercise), home cook with a lot of vegetable intake, fast food rarely, etc. Do not smoke and I'm in good physical shape (about 5' 7" and 160 lbs).
BUT also would have pretty fat heavy stuff like crispy skin chicken once every couple of weeks, beef once every week or two, rack of lamb, etc. (good bye to all of these things :( now). Also was a fairly regular drinker (wine all the time with dinner, a cocktails on the weekends, etc.. Family history of heart disease (mom had a heart attack at 50, dad at 67).
Anyway, in January my cholesterol test showed LDL of 151, HDL 60. In previous tests my LDL was in the 130s but never raised an alarm with myh GP. This time, because of family history, I had a calcium scan, which revealed 0, 0, 0, and 43 (so 43 overall). And of course now i'm panicking, scheduled a Cleerly test (because my cardiologist doesn't seem to give a shit), scheduling another cholesterol lab since I completely overhauled my diet in January, etc.
I also have GERD, so on daily basis I have various abdominal pains. Since i got my calcium score last week, i am convinced more of these pains are in the upper chest area than before, and Im not sure if I'm imagining shortness of breath, different heart rate (i have a pixel watch so i'm obessing over the numbers), and all that stuff. Typically, i have lower abdominal pain, maybe just below the heart area (i have a small hiatic hernia), but lately i'm feeling pain every once in awhile right in the left and right pec areas. I've almost gone to the ER like 5 different times and then feel like I'm being dramatic.
I've googled but none of what i've found has given me a really reliable way to distinguish.
Thoughts?

Hi everyone. I’m 26F, 165cm 59kgs. I got new glasses about a month ago and wore them. The prescription was the same but I got headaches and nausea from them. I figured whatever I’ll continue to wear them and I’ll adjust eventually.
2 weeks on the headaches and nausea were so severe that I had to take them off and return to my old glasses that I had no issues with. I thought that would be the end of it and the nausea and headaches would go. The prescription was the same anyway so I wasn’t sure why I had issues in the first place.
They ended up steadily increasing. The pain peaked over the weekend now I have low level pain, feeling of pressure in my forehead and a lot of nausea, carsick feeling. I’ve taken paracetamol, ibuprofen, then migraine relief tablets containing codeine and none of them relieve the pain fully.
My biggest concern is the dizziness and nausea that is constant. I had my eyes rechecked and my ears looked at. My eyes had no changes but with my ears they said it looks like minor mucus behind the eardrum but not enough to cause my symptoms.
They gave me a decongestant to open up my sinuses. Nothing has helped with the nausea and pressure feeling. Initially I thought it was eye problems but that’s been ruled out. Now mind is saying either it’s an ear problem or something sinister like a tumour. I feel stupid for being so worried about it but it’s constant discomfort and nausea, dull ache and pressure across my forehead and in my ears. I’m probably making it worse with my worrying. Am I being stupid for wanting an MRI or CT scan ? It’s only been a week of these constant symptoms.
Edit: no chance I am pregnant

Thank you to Space paladin for the canvas and u/Acceptable_Egg5560 for proofreading and critique
Content warning; Educator abuse and syrupy love
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Memory transcript: Maarchal , MESEA Astronomers. Date: [Standard Farsul calendar ] January 26th, 3667
PLUNCK
Ponthyts blue stick clattered on the board, rolling around in a circle. Before settling on three. He then pumps his paw and moves to move a soldier that many paces.
“Well, I got you cornered now, whatcha going to do about it?” I smirk at Ponthyts soon to be dashed confidence as I take out my red stick and flip in the air much higher than he did with his own.
It hits the board with a loud clatter, bouncing on each end before settling on rolling. To which it landed on seven. I move my last interceptor through his ranks and take his general. The gobsmacked look on his features was evident, with his previously wagging tail so still it made stone seem fluid.
“I win.”
“How did you do that?”
I rolled my shoulders and readjusted my legs underneath. “Well, you left a clear path for my interceptor.” I pointed to the gaps in his remaining pieces.
“I know that! I mean how did you know you'd get a high enough number to do that? Your interceptor was all the way back here and it's your last red piece!!!”
I lean my head back and lean against the wall behind me. “I didn't, I just saw an opportunity and took it.”
He pointed a digit at me “ Mershit, that was some grandmaster trap!”
I give him the ear position of resignation with a mirthful little grin. “I promise you it was just luck.”
He waves his paw dismissively. “I don't believe you.”
“Well believe it, because I don't plan ahead like that. Want to play another game?”
He shakes his head. “Nah I think four games is enough for one night.” He begins moving the pieces into their containers and folds up the board and places it on top of them. Closing the box. He then stands up and offers me his paw, I use it to pull myself up off the floor.“Well Maarchal, I’ll see you tomorrow at the observatory. I’ll bring the set if you want to play it during lunch if you want.”
I froze, “what! What time is it? He turns over to look at the clock above his strove.
“Ahh about Fifteen minutes past 18.”
“Uh, that's not that late! We could play another game! C’mon let's have a tie breaker!”
He rubs his eyes, “I’m tired and we have work in the morning. Is there something you're avoiding?”
I rub my upper right arm and look off into the corner. “...”
He took on a worried look, “Why don't you want to go home Maarchal?”
I sighed and took a seat at his dining room table. “I… I don't like that house, I’ve lived there since I moved to LIghra six years ago but it's not a… home like here.”
I looked around at the messy abode. Dirty cloaks were strewn about on the back of chairs and the rubbish trough was just barely not overflowing. Paintings either from family or Ponthyts own paw were hanged up in the hallways, and the lightbulbs cast a warm orangish light. While the dishes from our dinner were placed in the sink, covered with animal gravy slathered all over them. It was tidy yet just barely so. A place filled with all the markers of being lived in.
“You've lived here less than a year but it feels like it's always had you in it. I feel … so comfortable here. My own home is so… cold and sterile. I Worked a lot the first few months I moved here. I just never got around to making it a home. It feels so bare, I started to work overtime just to avoid it. Which just made the problem worse.”
He sat down across from me, He put his head in his paws and looked at the scratched wood of his table. He held that position for a minute or two before breaking it and placing his paw on my own. “Maarchal, you are my best friend, I want you to feel comfortable. So if you want you can sleep on my coach, I can also help you make your home feel like one."
​
I shake my head, “no no, I shouldnt of imposed on you. Making myself feel at home is a job I need to do and have been avoiding for far too long. It's just… it's just so much easier to avoid you know?” I grabbed his paw and squeezed it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
​
I stand up and make my way to his front door before he speaks up.
​
“Uh hey Maarchal?”
​
I turn to address him “yeah?”
​
He shifts in his seat and fidgets with his fingers. “I’m uh, going to Ootra lake next week. I was wondering If you'd like… to come with me? I promise if you don't have a tent I’ll bring you one. We could have a fire, roast some meat on it and share ghost stories and stargaze… if you want?”
​
“ What about work?”
​
He rocks in his chair. “We'd have to call in for a day or so.”
​
I contemplated his words and mulled them over. It would be the first time I’ve ever willingly taken off a day, tarnishing my perfect attendance. But the prospect of spending more one on one time with Ponthyt was overwhelmingly tempting.
​
“Sure, I’d love to go. But I haven't gone camping for years so you will need to bring me a tent.”
​
He leapt from his chair, launching it backwards, before calming himself down. “I’ll take care of all the prep. You just have to come along. I promise it’ll be loads of fun!”
​
I chuckled while I watched his clearly restrained display as I slowly closed the door.
​
I could hear him howl with enjoyment as I turned into the driveway to get to my auto.
​
**\*
​
“Huff, Huff, you doin alright there Ponthyt?” I turned back to see him walking behind me.
​
“Yeah, oof I haven't walked this much in years!”
​
I waited for him to catch up, we sat together when he did and we caught our breath before tuning to make our way back up the bluff. When we reached it there was a stone gazebo made of limestone. The angle of the sun let it shine into it. We walked into it and sat down on the stone benches. I looked around at the lake.
​
It was surrounded by steep hills with many rock faces visible, the layered stone was clearly visible. The topography of the area around the bluffs was shaped like a bowl, with the sight of land of higher elevation faintly visible in the distance despite its gradual slope. Giving a scene of depth that was not as extreme then in more mountainous areas. This view was normally hidden by the trees below.
​
“Well isn't this view alone worth the trip?” Ponthyt proclaimed.
​
I looked around letting the mid morning sun warm my back, I stretched my arms and breathed deeply. Taking in all the wonderful scents of nature.
​
“Yeah, it's beautiful.” I let myself relax, just letting the sounds and scents of nature calm me like I have never been since I was a pup on an archeological trip with mom and dad.
​
“Hmm, I've missed this.”
​
I don't know for how long I had been like this, but Ponthyt broke the silence “Ahhem, so, you've gone camping before?”
​
I nodded, “yeah when I was a pup my parents would sometimes go off to a site for a couple of weeks and we would come with them. We would have to get homeschooled then. But we would always have to camp and I and my siblings would go off exploring while they worked during the day.”
​
He smiled and his tail was wagging.” That sounds wonderful. I only got to camp for a couple days a year. It was always so hectic. Me and my siblings would just muck around the camp and eat, sometimes hiking around. Heh” Ponthyt looked towards the ground and held his paws together, rubbing his digits together.
​
“What's wrong Ponthyt?”
​
“Oh it's nothing it's-” I put my paw on his shoulder which drew his attention towards me.
​
“I know that's not true, you can trust me. Just tell me what's wrong ok?”
​
He gave a look of reluctance before caving to my request “… sigh… I grew up in a big family, and I love them all but… I was born at a strange time. I was second to last of my parents pups. Which meant they were busy with the older ones' events and taking care of the youngest. I kind of got mixed up and forgotten. My interests rarely lined up with the others and I often messed up tasks that my sibling would just fix or do for me. It got to the point that I… didn't really do anything. They will never say this but… I don't think my parents ever expected anything of me.”
​
I rub his shoulder,” well… I know that you have amounted to something. I mean, you're an astronomer! You work to understand the nature of reality. You're also so… kind and patient. I tried to scare you off but you weren't deterred at my standoffish behavior.”
​
He turned his head and gave me a shallow but joyous expression. “Heh well living in a house that's rarely quiet leaves you with a high tolerance for stubbornness. '' he wipes away a single tear “Sniff well… should we make our way back to camp? Or can I take out my stuff?”
​
I shake my head. ”Nah, you can paint. I’ll just sit here and let this place wash over me.”
​
He smiles and gets up and sets up his easel, taking out his supplies from his bag and gets to work painting the landscape ahead of him. He was slow and each brushstroke was as deliberate as he could manage. He… wasn't very good, only starting out when he moved here. But his drive to get better was admirable. Even in adulthood he tried to learn, to grow, to become more than he was yesterday.
​
I kept staring at him. Feeling something warm in my gut, something an academic wasn't supposed to feel. Shame overwhelmed me and I quickly turned away. Cursing myself for having those accursed feelings.
​
​
**\*
​
Ponthyt, returned from his cauto (Cargo auto -> pickup truck) with an armful of wood he brought with us. He set most of it aside and threw a piece onto the fire he had started, causing a cascade of embers to fly into the late evening air. The dull purple of the sky cast overhead between the canopy of the trees as the chill of the night began to come in. A pleasant coolness that most would take advantage of to seek the comfort of warming oneself close to a fire.
​
Not me, I paced to a fro as Ponthyt set up our campsite. He had placed his painting for the day inside the cabin of his cautoa and was now seasoning some raw meat strips to cook on the open fire. Snacking on one or two as he did so. He hung them on the tripod to roast, the fat that dripped off them as they were cooking sizzled as they burned on the coals below.
​
“I’ll have these done as soon as I can, please sit down Maarchal. Walking like that is only going to make the wait worse.” He says as he prods the suspended meat with a claw like utensil.
​
“Hmm, ok I’ll just sit and wait. Waste my time. Make a waste of the whole evening!!!” I snapped back at him, throwing my paws into the air.
​
Ponthyt recoils from my outburst with his ears pinned back. “ We’re camping, there is no way to waste it.”
​
I turned to address him, “we shouldn't be here! This trip means nothing and we are just wasting our TIME!!!” I cross my arms and scratch at the biceps. Rufflying the fur and making a mess of myself.
​
Ponthyt drops his utensil and walks over to me. “ We’re together and we spent the whole day just mucking about. How is this any more of a waste than that?” He says as he looks at me with eyes full of worry.
​
“We’re scientists, academics!!! We don't waste time like the ignorant masses! We should spend our time wisely!!! Every action of connection is just another moment we waste that could be spent to advance our field.” I had tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Scratching at my fur until I felt a wetness on my arms and paws.
​
“We’re supposed to sharpen our minds! No-not seek pointless relationships! ” I said as I bared my teeth and began growling at him.
​
The look of betrayal and abject worry he had on his face was overwhelming. I didn't want to hurt him. What am I doing? He doesn't deserve my ire. My legs gave out and I cried into my hands.
​
Ponthyt walked over to his cauto and brought out a cover. He wrapped it around me and rubbed my arms through it. He rested his head on top of mine while I sobbed. I couldn't take this anymore. Repressing and lashing out at any attempt to connect. Ponthyt hugged me and rocked back and forth. Humming and rubbing on the cover. He was warm and soft. I don't know how long we had been like this but by the time my sobs turned to a faint whine the meat over the fire was well done and the sky was pure black and the stars were out.
​
“I-I think i’m good no-now.” I choked out. Ponthyt grabbed my hand and helped me stand up. We didn't say another word. He collects the meat and places it on two plates. I stare at my portion for some time, Ponthyt doesn't eat any of his either.
​
“Sigh… I know you might not want to but… Could you tell me why you said those things earlier?” He says with trepidation clearly miring his words.
​
“Yeah, it's just… When I entered college It was… not what I was expecting… I was sort of a hyper teen. Always going off about some book I read. Drawing pictures of stars, space stations or colonies we would make on inhospitable planets.”
​
He sits up and places his plate by his side. “You draw? I’d love to see some of them.”
​
“I used to. But I haven't since that first year of college.” I turned to stare at the dying inferno warming us. I pull the cover around me tighter.
​
“When I was doodling before class one day the professor walked by me. He noticed what I was doing and grabbed my paper. I objected but he just stared at me. When he started to address the class he showed it off and mocked me for wasting my time.” Ponthyt turns his head to look at me.
​
“That's a dick move, But at least he couldn't do the same when you did it in your free time right?” I turned to him with a somber expression. He seemed to understand the implications though he seemed to be confused as to how.
​
“He couldn't have gotten into your room right? That'd be a huge breach of privacy!!!”
​
I grabbed the poker and stirred the coals of the fire. “You're right, he couldn't. But he didn't need to, my roommate would take them with her to class and he’d pin them up on the board to mock. I called the staff but since she was my roommate she didn't break any privacy laws and since my art was only ever worth the paper it was on it wasn't even enough to get a misdemeanor theft charge. I tried to hide it but she would always find them. I tried to get another roommate but he stonewalled my attempts and I couldn't afford to rent a place in town. ”
​
He took on a look of absolute despair. “... How… how could he be so aggressively intolerant of such an innocent hobby?”
​
I chuckled “It wasn't just mine, a few others had made the mistake of having a roommate with the same professor. I remembered one who loved going out in the woods for hikes. When he found out about that he mocked him for “Pointless exercise and admiring a random assemble of dead and dying shit””. I waved my arms about to emphasize how he inflicted his words.
​
Ponthyt stared at the ground between us with a look of utter confusion.” … He mocked someone for appreciating nature and being healthy?”
​
I nodded, “if you were not engaging with study of his topic you were wasting his and everyone else's time.”
​
Ponthyt looks at me with concern and shared pain. “Why, why didn't you go to a different school?”
​
I stared at him in his eyes. A scene of shame overtook me. “It was the top class in the country. My family was so proud of me. I was so proud of myself, I didn't want to disappoint them and me. Looking back on it, I realize my own pride was something I rarely contended with until then. It didn't help when he found out who my family was.”
​
Ponthyt recoiled and waved his arms in a “what” fashion. “Wait, what does your family have to do with this?”
​
I poked at a log to knock off the charcoal to expose the untouched wood underneath. “They were happy. He spent a lot of time in academic circles so naturally he met people who knew my parents. And the way they described this happy family irritated him something fierce. He gave me such a hard time with it. Mocking me for being a lazy nepotism pick who didn't deserve her seat in his class. He mocked anyone for having any kind of non professional relationship, we never spoke to each other outside of class. We never left or met with friends or family. If we tried too he’d find out and call the one in question a “Lazy sentimental idiot.””
​
I breathed in deeply, “... that hurt my pride so severely that I just stopped seeing them or any of my friends. I always said I was busy or had a field study, but I was just reading and rereading his lectures. I didn't even go home for the summer breaks, I just apprenticeshiped at his museum to study even more. At graduation he looked so… proud, I only realized he was proud of what he turned me into and not what I did a few weeks after I met you. How I let him turn me into an angry starile shell of a person.”
​
Ponthyt turned his head towards the fire. His ears straight up and a soft growl in his throat. “... If I ever meet that piece of.. nuclear waste, I’ll kill him.”
​
He turns to me and his features soften immediately. “Anyone capable of manipulating someone as passionate and creative as you... I can't even imagine the kind of living hell he made you seek…”
​
I chucked and a slight wag entered my tail.” I’m responsible for my life. MY pride kept me there for him to mold. I hate him, but I hate myself for it too.”
​
Ponthyt shoots up and screams at me “MERSHIT, Maarchal, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You had a right to expect your teachers to be respectable people. Not abusive and manipulative Sherkires (Ambush insect. Commonly seen as sneaky and unhonorable due to making pheromones and calls imitating other insects mating signals). He starts to speak softer as he turners to address me.
​
“Even this version of you, so cut off of why you love space in the first place is just.. You are one of the most remarkable people I have ever met. So humble with addressing yourself. You inspire me to be a tenth of the person you are.” He kneels in front of me and grabs my paws in his own.
​
“You are… you are so passionate, so creative. Even with being a self described shell. I can't even imagine how you will be when you open up again and explore your creativity in full and banish that monster's influence for good.”
​
I turn and I can't help but smile at his words.”... I haven't been in practice in years. But … I’m willing to relearn it with you.” I stared deeply in his eyes and that feeling again bubbles within me. The feeling of never wanting to leave his side, the feeling as though I found a piece I had been missing. Before I knew it I bit on his snout, recoiling when I realized what I had done.
​
‘I-I’m so sorry!!! You were just so close and and I felt something and before I knew it-” I was caught off guard when he bit my snout, holding my top jaw between his own set. I bit down on his lower jaw and we locked together. He tried to let go after a while. But I growled to let him know I wasn't ready yet and I used my leverage to lead him into my tent.
​
**\*
​
I got up and exited my tent. I stood up and stretched and twisted my back around. Lifting my arms above my head and pulling them as far out as I could. I looked at the coals still burning in our firepit, I could only tell they were burning from the heat going off of them as the glow was hidden by the sun's light. Before noticing the meat Ponthyt prepared last night still on the plates on the log we sat on.
​
“Pff, hey Ponthyt. Come out here!!!” I said behind me. He crawled out my tent with a head of messy fur.
​
“Wut ?” He said with half closed eyes and a disposition of utter exhaustion . I pointed to the cold meat. He still had a look of drowsiness before he realized what the significance of the strange strips were.
​
“Heh, I guess we won't need to make breakfast?” I chuckled as I sat down and hugged his head. I groomed his messy fur as I absorbed the morning sun. I don't know what the future of my career looked like anymore. But it was no longer the most important thing in my life. I loved space, I loved to learn. But In these years I had lost track of what was truly important. As I groomed him Ponthyt fell asleep with his head in my lap.
​
As I felt the joy of reciprocal love again for the first time in years I leaned back and watched the sunrise, caressing my love's head and breathing in the fresh air.
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Hey all! This community is so helpful, I’m hoping to get some good input about your own experiences. I’ve had bilateral hernia surgery — on the left 25 years ago and the right 20 years. About 15 years ago, I lifted something unexpectedly heavy and felt a strong twinge in my left groin. A small lump appeared over the next few days a couple of inches below my incision. I went to the surgeon who did the stable right-side repair. She was a wonderful, outspoken surgeon who sadly retired a few years ago. At the time, she confirmed it was a recurrence, said she could repair it, but said it was small and could wait if I wanted. So that’s what I did. Fast forward to a few weeks ago when I experienced pain on the opposite side of my groin (lower right). My GP recommended a hernia ultrasound which involved straining. I thought I could protect my left side with pressure as I do when going to the bathroom. But I guess applying pressure while lying flat isn’t as effective. The test worsened the recurrence. (I’m upset that neither the GP or tech cautioned me knowing my history.) Although the lump isn’t significantly larger, I now have dull pain down by my scrotum on that side and, unusually, pain in my hip at the very top of the groin line (that may be coincidental to my history of musculoskeletal issues, although the timing is concerning). After this long spiel, I’m looking to hear about similar experience with a recurrent hernia, how you approached treatment, what was the outcome, and any lessons learned. I’ll reach out to my GP and cardio for recs about surgeons, but would love to know if anyone had a great NYC surgeon. Also, any experience with Shouldice Hospital by patients traveling to them from the US.

I'd like your opinions on it. Bear in mind it's a rough draft.

"When You Gaze At The Abyss, The Abyss Gazes Back."
===================
At your darkest hour, when hope is gone, he will appear before you, clad in darkness, offering salvation. You must never take his hand.
The Doctor is a mysterious entity dressed like a plague doctor clad in mists that appears those who lost everything, individuals who has reached rock bottom, individuals who were beaten by life, regardless of gender, age, or nationality and offers them salvation. Fake salvation through the miraculous substance called "Ambrosia".
The drug alters the individual and grants him supernatural abilities as well as an extreme euphoric sensation but it comes at a cost. If the individual is compatible to the drug, they'll become an Exol, an Etherlite, a Corpus or an Aria, each possessing unique abilities. After using one's abilities, they will suffer the consequences and symptoms. If not compatible - they will die a gruesome death.
The individual must continually sacrifice things like memories, emotions, limbs, or organs(their own or others') to The Doctor in order to get another dose. With each dose, the symptoms will worsen and they will eventually be consumed by The Doctor who comes to collect his payment. The drug would consume its victims(users) like cancer.
Exol Upon consumption of the Ambrosia drug, the Exol's skeletal structure will be altered and restructured, allowing for several unique abilities. The Exol can freely soften & harden their bones as well as extract these bones out of their body and reconstruct them into tools and weapons. The drawback is that once used, it requires immense energy to regenerate "used" bones and thus Exol are prone to chronic fatigue.
Etherlite Upon consumption of the Ambrosia drug, the Etherlite's nervous system and brain would be altered. By overstimulating the nervous system and brain, i.e accelerating or deccelerating the brain and nervous system, the Etherlite gains the ability to process and respond to information unnaturally fast, resulting in inhumane reaction speed, precision, and manipulation of their senses, for example, dulling their sense of pain or avoiding bullets. The drawback of being a Etherlite is insomnia, acute over-sensitivity and inability to focus on occasion.
Corpus Upon consumption of the Ambrosia drug, the Corpus' muscular structure is altered, allowing for the ability to freely manipulate the existing mass in one's body to preform superhuman feats. It allows the Corpus to manipulate the volume, and density of said mass and redistribute it. The drawback is chronic muscle atrophy that require constant maintainance.
Aria Upon consumption of the Ambrosia drug, one's blood-stream would be altered, allowing the Aria to consume various toxic substances and turn their blood into a deadly toxin(depending on the substance itself.) It also allows for a limited form of external blood manipulation. The drawback is that the Aria must consume and adapt to said substances(and survive) regularly due to rapid metabolism and acute anemia.

Note: I wondering if I should remove the blood manipulation from the Aria or not.

Author’s Note:
If you enjoy the story so far, please consider upvoting and commenting! These go a long way in helping the story reach a larger audience. (Also, reddit removes all my formatting for some reason so if you want a fully formatted read, check out my story on RoyalRoad)
READ 2 WEEKS AHEAD: Season Finale Chapter 17 is now available for Tier 2 Manifest Fantasy Patrons and higher!
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First
Three, two, one... execute.
Ron peeked around the corner, his M4E1 Carl Gustaf already loaded with standard HEAT rounds. The rest of Alpha Team stacked up behind him or behind Ryan, who was on the other side of the doorway. Through the opening, they could see a nightmarish tangle of webs and egg sacs, with the skittering shapes of Spiranids lurking in the shadows in the far corners of the room.
The Queen was positioned in the center of the room, completely exposed by a cluster of eggs. Henry watched as Ron leveled his Gustaf, taking aim at the Queen while they stayed along the wall to ensure Ron’s backblast was clear. It should have been an easy kill, but a flicker of movement caught Henry’s eye.
A blob of white flew across his vision, smacking into Ron just as he fired his weapon. The thick strands of webbing bypassed Kelmithus’ shielding and wrapped around him, sending him flying back a couple of meters. He landed on his back, his body and launcher completely stuck to the floor by the condensed silk.
Around the same time, the Gustaf’s projectile struck the Queen’s abdomen section. The resulting blast tore through its exoskeleton but was far from a fatal blow. The Queen shrieked, a sound far deeper than Henry expected.
“Fuck!” Ron shouted, struggling to break free from the webbing.
Henry exhaled. They were a man down, but helping him had to wait; the not-dead Queen and its minions took precedence. It would be great if he had another launcher in his own Holding Bag, but that was something he’d have to bring up to Chief Cole later. Henry tossed his grenades into the room, the pops mingling with the screeches of injured Spiranids. Ryan struck simultaneously, throwing his own collection into the mix. Like firecrackers, the explosives were violent but short-lived.
As the chaos subsided, Henry pushed in. Raising his shotgun, he tore through a Spiranid that pounced at him, its carcass smoldering from the white phosphorous. Beside him, Isaac, Ryan, and Dr. Anderson’s shots rang out, tearing through their own sectors of fire.
Almost immediately upon their entry, the Queen surged forward with terrifying speed. It reared its head back like it was about to vomit, mandibles covered in a sick, yellowish color. Henry recognized immediately what it was trying to do. “Acid, move!”
Henry dove away from his previous position, taking a shot at another Spiranid that had taken the opportunity to jump at him while its master was preparing to attack. He narrowly escaped the lethal spray as it jetted toward him. The acid splattered on the ground where they had stood not even a second before, sizzling fiercely as it corroded the thick webbing sprawled across the floor. He noticed as he ran that, rather curiously, the acid was simply puddling on the floor. There was no damage to the floor itself, but if it could tear apart high-quality monster silk just like that, he didn’t want to find out what it could do to an envirosuit.
Henry glanced back after blasting apart his third Spiranid. His teammates were fine – Ryan helping him keep the Queen’s attention, Sera already on her way to Ron, and the others taking care of the smaller Spiranids. He tried to get a quick headcount of how many Spiranids they’d already eliminated. Between their guns, Kelmithus’ magic, and the grenades, he estimated they had killed at least a dozen so far. Solid progress, but the fact that they weren’t able to take out the Queen with their first strike was an issue.
Henry rolled to his left as the Queen pounced on his previous position. It was fucking fast, like a Goliath birdeater but scaled up – and with nasty abilities that really shouldn’t belong on a creature like this. He recovered quickly and took aim, firing point-blank into its thorax. The white phosphorous pellets hissed as they burned into its exoskeleton, forcing it back.
Beside him, Ryan’s shotgun boomed. He struck the Queen’s legs, which seemed to be more fragile than the thick exoskeleton surrounding the head and thorax. The pellets bit into the chitin, likely striking a nerve as evidenced by the leg’s subsequent buckling and collapse. It was a lucky shot – one that he doubted they could repeat four or five more times.
“Sera, use my knife! Here, right here!” Ron called out.
Sera’s sword must’ve been too large to effectively cut through the webbing. They had to hurry up. He and Ryan had been dodging the Queen’s attacks, but mostly by a hair’s breadth. All it took was one lucky hit from the Queen to put them out of commission, possibly for good. “Sera, status on Ron?”
“One minute!” she responded.
Damn. That was one minute later than he’d hoped. Reacting instinctively, Henry noted the Queen raising one of its legs – a sure sign of it preparing for another attack. The Queen struck again, this time cleaving the air with the leg, aiming to corral him into a predictable escape route. As its leg swept through the air, Henry caught sight of the Queen rearing its head back in a grotesque mimicry of a snake about to strike – another acid attack.
Anticipating the monster’s strategy, Henry feinted to the right, a move he hoped would mislead it about his true intentions. As the Queen’s head followed his feint, Henry twisted sharply, scraping against the rough ground. With a powerful push from his legs, he launched backward just as the Queen unleashed its attack.
Acid spewed forth in a wide arc, splattering where he had just been. The corrosive globs almost instantly melted the webbing on the floor, collecting into pools. And there was the second issue. The longer this fight dragged on, the less room they’d have to maneuver.
Henry unloaded into the creature’s compound eyes before tossing a flashbang near its legs. The creature staggered backward, blinded in both its eyes and its sensory hairs. Henry used the precious few seconds he bought to reload his weapon and check up on his team. “Yen, sitrep?”
“Stragglers neutralized; we’re moving to you now.”
Automatic gunfire erupted as Isaac and Dr. Anderson joined the fight against the Queen, dumping their mags on the creature’s head. The 6.8mm seemed to penetrate well, but he could say the same if they fought an elephant; the Spiranid Queen was simply too large for the relatively small caliber rounds to have any effect besides pissing it off.
The Queen lunged again, its legs surrounding him from all sides. There was only one way out, and it was through the belly of the beast. Henry rushed forward, ducking under the Queen’s mandibles as he slid underneath its abdomen. He fired his shotgun as quickly as he could, unloading pellets into the beast’s underbelly. The white phosphorous scorched the softer flesh, drawing a shriek of pain from the massive creature.
As the Queen writhed under the relentless assault, Ryan and the others seized the moment to reload their weapons and reposition. They poured everything they had into the creature’s cephalothorax, bluish ichor oozing from the hundreds of new wounds that they opened up. Yet, it was like chipping away at a mountain – it simply wasn’t enough. The creature thrashed around violently in response; Henry knew it was only a matter of time before it landed a hit on someone.
And land a hit it did. With a terrifying swiftness, one of its massive legs slammed into Henry’s chest, launching him backward. The shield Kelmithus cast on him flickered as it absorbed the brunt of the impact. He crashed into an egg sac by the entrance – its membrane ruptured on impact, drenching him in a sticky, corrosive slime. The sac provided little cushion, and he hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him.
Pain flared across Henry’s chest where the Queen’s leg had struck him. Gasping for breath and battling the encroaching blackness in his vision, he instinctively checked his envirosuit. He started with the areas he could see, glancing down at his chest. It was visibly deformed, dented but not quite a gash.
Still intact, thank goodness. No breach, but another hit like that would be disastrous. He breathed a sigh of relief, his chest hurting like hell as he did so. He checked his sides and back. Parts of his suit were covered in slime from the egg sac. It didn’t seem as corrosive as the Queen’s acid, but it was still a hazard. Quickly, he swiped at it, removing as much as possible with his gloved hands to prevent further damage.
He forced himself up, grabbing his shotgun from the floor. The Queen was already barreling toward him, the damn monster not letting up. He didn’t have time to make a run for it; he needed to jump to one side or the other, and the timing needed to be perfect. Just as the Queen’s shadow engulfed him, the air turned icy cold, frost creeping up on his visor.
Ice formed from thin air, spearing up from the ground and piercing through the Queen’s legs. The spikes rooted the beast in place. Not one to waste an opportunity, Henry dashed away from the entrance, firing at the immobilized giant spider as he linked up with the others.
“Sera?” Henry asked again.
Sera’s voice came in strained. “Almost…” Then, with a triumphant shout, she announced the word Henry had been desperate to hear. “Done!”
“Owens!” Henry said, risking a glance back.
Ron had already grabbed his Gustaf and was in the process of loading another HEAT round. “On it!”
Henry grinned. It was a relief, to be sure. With Ron free and back in the fight, the odds had just tipped heavily in their favor. The Queen was tough, but it wasn’t invincible; they just needed an opening.
Given the damage the Queen sustained to its body, Henry couldn’t imagine it being in peak fighting condition. Even in its weakened state, though, it still had the capability to dodge Ron’s attack, and it seemed to be saving its web ability for that very inevitability.
“Take out the legs!” Henry ordered.
They combined their fire on the left legs, since Ryan managed to break one of them earlier. He heard a crack that might’ve been the chitin giving way or the leg snapping, but it was hard to tell. He was just about to chalk it up to the prevailing gunfire around them, but then he saw it: a brief stumble. The Queen recovered quickly, but it was clear to Henry that it wouldn’t be able to manage any more damage to its legs.
Then, he noticed a blur in his peripheral vision to his right, moving so fast his eyes could barely keep up. Shit, he was certain he kept track of the Queen’s movements. With the existing damage to his envirosuit, he’d be completely fucked. He braced himself for another impact, but it never came.
As he focused harder on the blur, he caught a glimpse of a flash of light that could only be one thing – Sera’s sword, And, just like a flash of lightning, she had already cleared the vicinity of the Queen. The Queen’s foreleg seemed to simply vanish, severed so cleanly that it took a moment for the beast to realize what had happened. When it did, it let out a screech of pain, its balance faltering as it tried to adapt to the sudden change.
While Henry focused on taking out another leg from the left side, Sera had already shifted to her next target. Their assault was brutal: white phosphorus pellets and hard-hitting 6.8mm on one side, ice magic and skilled swordsmanship on the other. And to think, they managed to inflict all this damage by the time Ron completed his reload.
“Clear the way!” Ron called out, his Gustaf aimed right at the Queen’s head.
Henry jumped back, watching as Kelmithus conjured another set of ice spikes to root the beast again, in case the five obliterated legs weren’t enough to keep it down. The Queen thrashed against the icy bonds, its remaining legs slashing through the air in a frenzied bid for freedom. It spat acid – a tactic that would’ve worked effectively on most other materials, but instead simply got diluted with the melting ice. Even as the acid reacted with the ice, the spikes held firm, anchoring the beast in place like steel cables.
Henry’s heart pounded in his ears. Come on, Owens, he urged silently. Take the shot.
As if on cue, Ron pulled the trigger. The Gustaf bucked in his hands as the HEAT round streaked towards its target. Henry barely had time to brace himself before the explosion hit, the shockwave slamming into him and nearly toppling him over. He staggered back, gazing into the settling dust.
When the smoke cleared, the Queen’s head was obliterated – replaced by a gory mess of shattered chitin and pulverized flesh. Blood sprayed from the gaping hole, covering the ground in a pale blue hue. The creature’s body convulsed, its remaining legs scrabbling weakly at their surroundings.
A surge of triumph washed over Henry, but it was fleeting. From the corner of his eye, he locked on to a glimpse of movement. One of the Queen’s legs continued to spasmodically jerk around and spray the ground with blue ichor. He raised his shotgun in a nonchalant motion and blasted the errant limb, watching as it shuddered and went still.
Sera stepped up, her sword barely catching the light as she jammed it into what was left of the Queen’s thorax. A sharp twist, and it was over. She then yanked the blade from the carcass, her grip shifting subtly along the hilt. As she flicked the sword, frost swiftly coated the ichor clinging to the metal. The frozen debris was flung off, hitting the ground and shattering like glass.
He glanced down at his Holding Bag. Damn, the fight took out most of his shells. Swapping out his shotgun for his M7, he turned to his team and took stock of their condition. It seemed everyone had mostly gone unscathed, only debris and dirt scarring their envirosuits. Well, except for himself and Ron. “Think we’re gonna have to start calling you pinata now,” Henry said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
Ron scoffed. “Yeah? Says the runner-up,” he said, tapping the dent on Henry’s envirosuit. “Better ‘pinata’ than ‘roadkill’, though. But seriously, what’s next? Don’t even know where to start.”
The room was empty, save for the debris strewn about and the singular obelisk standing in the center of the room. He didn’t notice it earlier, but as he got closer, he realized that the obelisk emitted a faint light that barely escaped the canopy of webs. He looked it up and down before turning to the others. “Only one place to start. Let’s clear out the webs, see what’s hiding below.”
“Doc, Kel, clear out the eggs. Hayes, Sera, see if the Queen’s got anything useful. Everyone else focus on the webs,” Henry ordered.
Ron drew his knife and started slicing through the dense cobwebs. “Hey, what y’all think the Queen’s Tier is?”
Isaac paused to consider. “Eh, Tier 8, probably. Minotaur boss and Rillifane boss were both Tier 8, so I’d say the spider’s around the same level.”
“Well, the resilience of the specimen isn’t a definitive measure of the Tier,” Dr. Anderson pointed out. “It’s quite possible that we merely had the most suitable tools at hand in this particular encounter.”
“The scholar speaks truly,” Sera agreed. “There is nary a defining criterion; defense is but one of many that are considered by the Guild. Were it so simple, Kelmithus and I would have attained Tier 9 ere now.”
“So, what do you think the Queen is, then? Tier 7 maybe?” Ron asked.
Henry shook his head. Tier 7 didn’t seem accurate. Using his knife to scrape some of the webbing off his glove, he voiced, “Spiranids are weak in general, but are classified as Tier 5 or higher because of their traps, ambush tactics, numbers, and abilities. Archers can use Wind Snipe and mages can use wide-area spellcasting, but they can’t reliably penetrate the exoskeleton’s armor. If anything, this is probably on the lower end of Tier 9.”
“Tier 9, huh?” Isaac muttered.
Sera smiled as she stood back. She stuffed a frost-covered gland into her holding bag and paused from her work as she chimed in, “Hmm… how keen. I expected nothing less from the first Tier 6 entrants in Eldralore’s history! It shows plain why the Guild did so swiftly raise you.”
“Hah,” Henry chuckled. It was an amusing thought, but… “Say, ya think we can get to Tier 7 after this?”
Sera’s eyebrows shot up. “Tier 7? A mark of no slight merit. What have you achieved since attaining Tier 6?”
Henry reached to scratch his chin, then cursed softly as his glove thudded against his visor. “Well, we took down a Rillifane pack, a Sentinel Lindwyrm, and now this primal Spiranid Queen. That’s not too shabby, eh?”
“Firm victories,” Sera admitted, “but advancement weighs more than battle alone. The Guild also considers quest difficulty, knowledge gained therefrom, and impact – in other words, glory.”
“The Baranthurian Ruins,” Dr. Anderson blurted, taking the words out of Henry’s mouth. He turned to Kelmithus, who approached them after confirming that the eggs had been cleared out. “Surely, working with the Sanctum Arcanum must be quite the honour. The Guild holds their quests with high esteem, wouldn’t you say?”
Kelmithus nodded, burning a clump of disposed webs on the ground. “True as that may be, advancement oft hinges upon the cumulative experience of dozens of quests.”
“Well, ain’t no small feats for us lately,” Ryan remarked. “The quest to the Baranthurian ruins, what was it, Tier 8? Yeah, that was Tier 8. Sentinel Lindwyrm? Hell, Tier Nine. That there beast?” Ryan pointed his gun at the carcass of the Spiranid Queen. “Tier 9 as well.”
Ron interjected, “Plus we’ve been helping out along the way, like those villagers, and taking on quests others won’t touch. Honestly, the Hardale quest should be pretty weighty too, considering the Nobian shenanigans.”
Sera hummed, mulling over Alpha Team’s experiences. The fact that most of their quests at Tier 6 had essentially been Tier 7 quests or higher in difficulty was probably unheard of in the Guild. Not only that, but they’d been able to complete these difficult quests successfully. Hell, with flying colors, even. That had to count for something.
Henry looked over at Sera, stepping back as he allowed Kelmithus to dispose of the webs that he had cleared out. “So, whaddya think? Based on what we’ve done, you think we got a shot at Tier 7?”
Sera looked up at the ceiling as she weighed her response. “Ehh, you’ve a strong case. Alas, it’s Taldren’s call to make. His favor seems yours, though; I wager he’ll agree.”
Henry grinned. Moving up meant they could have access to more quests. Naturally, that also meant better rewards and in turn, access to some truly magical equipment. “Good to hear. Guess we’ll see to it once we get back to Eldralore. Now, we should probably –”
A soft glow of light gradually lit up the room, interrupting Henry mid-sentence. He squinted, readying his weapon. The light came from the walls and ceiling, illuminating the once-dark chamber. The obelisk, now free of webs, now hummed… healthily? It wasn’t like he had a manual to tell him if this was a good or bad development, but judging from the facility’s reaction, it must’ve worked.
Henry glanced at his HUD. The temperature readings were rising, too. The icy chill from Kelmithus’ magic rapidly dissipated as the environmental controls kicked in. “Well, looks like we’ve done all we can here. Let’s head back to the containment cell room and see if we can find anything else of interest.”
– – –
Outskirts of GB-2, Grenden Forest
Carvus Alnect Virelius narrowed his gaze toward the brightening sky, his eyes cutting through the retreating mist that had long veiled the forest’s canopy. This unprecedented clarity above the ruins was strange. After centuries cloaked in an impenetrable fog, why did the skies clear now?
The Umber Vicearch’s mind worked like a whetstone, sharpening the fragments of reports from his scouts, cryptic as they were. The recent skirmish, occurring concurrently with the lifting fog, could not be mere happenstance. Regardless of the answer, the unexpected fold presented a welcome complexity to test his mettle.
He set his thoughts aside as the sound of footsteps approached.
“Leuarch Eldreyn reporting, milord,” one of his men said. “We’ve word from Serarch Trelian.”
Carvus gave him a nod to continue.
Eldreyn relayed the news. “The scouts espy traces of battle: a fallen Sentinel Lindwyrm and two carriages left abandoned near the cave’s entrance. The land bears scars from some form of magic, strewn with strange metal tubes and other objects unknown to us. Save for the Lindwyrm, no other bodies are to be found. What are your commands, milord?”
Carvus took a deep breath. No other bodies? Two carriages? That such a formidable creature was felled with no apparent casualties among their ranks suggested a small but extraordinarily capable force. Each member was no doubt Tier 7 at the least. The limited number of carriages implied a party not larger than ten. But… what could the metal objects mean?
Powerful though they might be, could such a small group withstand his numbers? Carvus entertained the thought briefly. No, direct confrontation would be unwise. The site bore secrets too vital to squander on rash gambles. Better to maneuver them into a position where the only viable option would be to comply with his demands.
“Hold our position, Lornus,” Carvus commanded. While he preferred the safety of their hidden vantage in the forest, the intrigue of Trelian’s findings – the slain Lindwyrm – was too compelling to ignore. “The contents of Trelian’s report compel our own investigation. Lead us, that we might see for ourselves.”
“As you command, milord.”
It was a short walk to the clearing. As they reached the treeline, Carvus held up a hand, signaling his men to halt – they should go no further than the cover of the forest. The aftermath of the battle lay evident before them. The massive form of the Sentinel Lindwyrm sprawled near the far side of the clearing, its outline murky at a distance.
Carvus squinted, adjusting his position slightly for a better view. He felt his jaw drop, a lapse in composure that surprised even him. Yet, who could fault him? The beast lay nearly torn asunder, its massive body riddled with gaping, jagged wounds that no sword or arrow could inflict. Indeed, not even traditional siege weapons or combat spells could inflict such damage.
The destructive capability of fyric powder was well-known to him – he had seen its use in adamantite mines. The wounds on the Lindwyrm, however, spoke of a force of another Tier entirely. Where fyric powder might clear a path through a stubborn boulder, the agent used against the Sentinel Lindwyrm seemed capable of obliterating several boulders at once, perhaps even an entire cliffside.
Turning his attention from the ravaged beast, he scanned the battlefield. Among the chaos, his eyes caught the glint of metal – strange tubes scattered about, all some lighter shade of bronze. The craters were blackened and littered with debris: shards of metal mixed with wires. This was clearly no ordinary skirmish.
He moved closer to the tree line, cautiously examining the unfamiliar objects. The metal tubes bore no resemblance to any weapons known to Nobian forces. However, their presence here implied that somehow, these objects were related to the catastrophic wounds on the Lindwyrm.
Near the cave’s entrance, two metal carriages lay abandoned. Their exteriors were marred by dirt and marked with an array of dents that appeared to be from the Lindwyrm’s armored tail. The carriages, in style and make, aligned with reports of American machines observed by their Umbercari in distant Eldralore. Mounted atop each was a long cylinder. As foreign as they were, he could tell they were weapons – ones capable of unleashing formidable destruction.
Adventurers throughout the ages had ventured here, all repelled by the formidable Lindwyrm that long guarded these grounds. Had it been folly to devote their resources to the conquest of their neighbors, rather than to mastering and exploiting this site? Such questions surpassed his station, yet irrespective of the answers, the Emperor would surely take no pleasure in learning that he had allowed Americans to plunder the Gatebuilder’s secrets.
Carvus turned to Lornus. “Bid our scouts to investigate the cave.” As Leuarch Eldreyn departed to carry out the orders, he beckoned to one of his serarchs. “Bring me one of those metal tubes. I wish to examine it.”
He sat on a rock, watching the light bend around the man’s form until he vanished from sight. The serarch then adjusted the temperature around his body, matching it to that of the forest. Were it not for the subtle shifts in the man’s mana as he held the spells, Carvus would have surely lost track of him.
The serarch made his way forth, passing through the trees and into the clearing beyond. With haste, he seized upon one of the tubes that lay scattered about, and then, as quick as he had come, he turned and made his way back to the forest’s edge. When at last he returned, Carvus stood up and held out his hand.
The tube, lighter than its solidity might have portended, was chill to the touch and was marked by a patina that showed clear signs of bending. He tried to bend it with his fingers, but the metal resisted. Even when he used magic to strengthen himself, it yielded naught but scant impression. What could have possibly moved the metal?
Looking closely, he noticed that the metal wasn’t bronze, as he had first thought. Though bearing a hue akin to bronze, it was of a kind unfamiliar to him. The surface was engraved with American script – characters and sequences that held little meaning to him. Yet, to deem the letters ‘engraved’ would be to err; it was as if they were imprinted with a craftsmanship nary a smith could rival.
He turned it over in his hands, his eyes drawn to a circular groove near the base. Examining both ends, Carvus noted the open end was distorted as if a great force had expelled something from within – an insight into his previous question. The other end was sealed, marked by a small, precise indentation. He held it up, aligning it with a similarly sized hole in a nearby tree.
This was no common weapon. As a trebuchet releases its load, so too must this tube have hurled its own projectile. It gave him an idea. What if one were to use an adamantite tube with fyric powder, place a keen arrowhead atop, and ignite the mixture below? Would it rival a standard Wind Snipe combined with physical enhancement magic?
Carvus’ thoughts were interrupted by someone calling out to him. “Milord.”
“Hm?” He looked up, finding the face of Leuarch Franus. “What is it, Martano?”
He hesitated, as if second-guessing his words. “The… The Lindwyrm… The men grow restless, milord. They wish to claim the spoils of this battle – the Sentinel Lindwyrm’s materials are prized in many a lore. And these carriages, would it not profit us to salvage what we can? They may hold more secrets – or riches.”
He turned the leuarch’s words over in his mind as he would a well-worn coin. In truth, the idea held merit. Even the smallest measure of a Lindwyrm’s blood was a treasure beyond compare – to say nothing of the other materials, sought after by alchemists and smiths alike. That the Americans had forgone harvest was a curious thing indeed. Could it be that they were ignorant of the creature’s true worth? Or perhaps, had they found something more valuable?
And then there were the carriages, gleaming in the sun like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. If they could but glean some understanding of how the Americans had so deftly slain a beast of the Lindwyrm’s standing, it would surely prove a boon to the Empire’s own martial pursuits. Perhaps, armed with such knowledge, they might at last gain the upper hand against the accursed Sonarans.
Carvus cast his gaze once more upon the clearing, then turned to face Martano. “Aye,” he said. “Let it be so.”
Yet, as he made to step forth, a low, droning sound beckoned his attention – a buzzing hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The unfamiliar noise compelled him to halt. He raised his hand, stopping his men as he searched for the noise. He tilted his head skyward, squinting as he beheld a strange sight: a winged thing hanging in the air above the clearing, like an animal circling its prey. As the sunlight reflected off its surface, it became evident to him that this was no creature of flesh, but a machine – much like the metal carriages.
“Hold,” Carvus ordered. “We dare not venture forth.”
Martano stepped forward, doubt and confusion etched across his face. “But, milord, if we shroud ourselves in invisibility, surely they cannot see us.”
Carvus shook his head. “Nay; recall the umbercari we sent to infiltrate the Duke’s mansion. They, too, thought themselves hidden, yet were somehow discovered. We know not what sorcery that flying machine might possess, and we cannot risk exposing ourselves.”
Before Martano could respond or venture any further protest, the scouts returned, led by Serarch Trelian. The search bowed his head before providing his report, “Milord, the cave lies empty, and the Lindwyrm’s nest remains untouched. We discovered footprints leading to a great sealed door, which we believe to be the entrance to the ruins.”
Carvus nodded. The Americans had ventured forth and left the loot behind for a reason. He thought back to a fortress that the Empire once sacrificed to encircle the forces of the now-conquered Kingdom of Durenelle. “So be it. Let us abandon these lesser spoils. As our adversaries have forgone these spoils in pursuit of greater gains, so must we sacrifice Straltus.”
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Broccoli is a versatile, nutrient-packed vegetable and a delicious low-carb addition to any keto diet.

Health benefits of broccoli

Have you noticed that nutritionists and health experts constantly praise broccoli? This low-carb superfood is packed with essential vitamins, minerals, and other nutrients critical for promoting a healthy body and enhancing overall wellness.
1. Nutrient-dense superfood
Broccoli is abundant with nutrients, including vitamins C, E, and K, beta-carotene, calcium, potassium, iron, antioxidants, and other health-promoting bioactive compounds.
Research published in Frontiers in Pharmacology states that eating more cruciferous vegetables, such as broccoli, may reduce the risk of developing certain diseases, including cardiometabolic, neurological, and musculoskeletal conditions. In addition, broccoli's high fiber and antioxidant content support the body's natural detoxification processes and help protect against oxidative stress.

2. Supports digestive health

Fiber, the non-digestible cell wall found in plant foods, plays a vital role in promoting healthy digestion. Regular fiber intake enhances the protective barrier in the digestive system and helps regulate bowel movements. Broccoli is an excellent source of dietary fiber and, as a result, promotes a healthy digestive tract. Incorporating more broccoli into your diet can help remove toxins from the digestive tract and support the growth of beneficial gut microbes by providing a fuel source for probiotic bacteria.
3. Strengthens immune defenses
Vitamin C is a powerful antioxidant that helps strengthen the immune system, heal wounds, and protect the body from harmful pathogens and diseases. According to data from the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), 3.5 ounces (100 grams) of raw broccoli contains 90 milligrams of vitamin C. This is nearly double the amount of an orange. In addition, broccoli is a rich source of sulforaphane, a phytonutrient that has been shown to drastically improve immune system functions, according to research published in Molecules.

4. Potential anti-cancer properties

Cruciferous vegetables like broccoli are unique for their exceptionally high content of glucosinolates. These compounds, when eaten, transform into beneficial bioactive substances such as sulforaphane, which exhibits promising anti-cancer properties.
"Broccoli sprouts have the highest concentration of sulforaphane compared to any other food on the planet. Sulforaphane has been extensively studied for its potential anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, and even anti-cancer properties," says Dr. Berg.
According to research published in Frontiers in Oncology, sulforaphane can target and inhibit cancer stem cells across various cancers, including leukemia, lung, breast, prostate, colon, gastric, and pancreatic cancer. By inhibiting cancer stem cells, a type of cancer cell responsible for tumor initiation and growth, sulforaphane may help prevent the development and spread of cancer. The authors also highlight the potential of combining sulforaphane with other natural compounds or chemotherapeutic drugs to enhance and amplify their anti-cancer effects.

5. Promotes strong bones

Broccoli is an excellent source of calcium and vitamin K, essential for maintaining strong bones and lowering the risk of osteoporosis. Additionally, broccoli's high vitamin C content helps promote the production of collagen peptides critical for joint, muscle, and bone health.

6. Aids in weight management

Broccoli is low in calories and carbohydrates, high in fiber, and scores just 15 on the glycemic index, indicating that it doesn’t significantly impact blood sugar or insulin levels. This makes broccoli a great addition to a low-carb diet and may help promote weight loss by improving satiety and reducing glucose-related cravings after meals.

7. Anti-inflammatory effects

According to evidence published in Antioxidants, broccoli’s high concentrations of sulforaphane, indole-3-carbinol, and diindolylmethane can help mediate inflammation. The authors summarize, "Sulforaphane may help reduce inflammation by inhibiting the activity of certain enzymes that promote inflammation. It has also been found to stimulate the production of antioxidant enzymes that protect cells from inflammation-related damage."
Similar immune system regulatory effects were observed with indole-3-carbinol and diindolylmethane.

6 must-try low-carb broccoli recipes

Whether you're in the mood for a comforting side dish or a savory appetizer. Here are six low-carb broccoli recipes to ensure you'll never grow tired of incorporating broccoli into your meal plan.
1. Broccoli Fritters
These tasty broccoli fritters are a perfect way to provide a delicious savory appetizer while sticking to a low-carb keto diet. This recipe combines broccoli with curry powder, eggs, and coconut flour for a satisfying and nutritious meal.
2. Keto Cheese & Broccoli Salad
This refreshing cheese and broccoli salad combines fresh broccoli florets, cheddar cheese, crispy bacon, and your preferred dressing. Add parmesan cheese for an extra boost of flavor and healthy fats! It's an excellent option for those looking for a keto broccoli recipe that's delicious and easy to prepare.
3. Keto Broccoli Cheddar Casserole
Indulge in this broccoli cheddar casserole featuring broccoli and cheese served in a creamy sauce. The recipe combines fresh or frozen broccoli, cream cheese, cheddar cheese, and a hint of garlic powder for a comforting and satisfying low-carb dish.
4. Keto Grilled Summer Vegetables
Fire up the grill and enjoy a colorful array of summer vegetables, including roasted broccoli. This keto-friendly broccoli recipe is enhanced with grill seasoning, olive oil, and onions for a burst of flavor. Perfect for backyard barbecues or weeknight dinners. Try experimenting with alternate seasonings such as Cajun, Za'atar, or Italian seasoning for a different flavor profile.
5. Keto Broccoli Cheese Bites
Another delicious variation of broccoli cheese bites, this recipe combines fresh broccoli, cheddar cheese, and scallions for a savory and satisfying side dish. Perfect for parties or as a quick and easy low-carb appetizer.
6. Keto Broccoli and Cauliflower Salad with Bacon
This flavorful salad is made with steamed broccoli, cauliflower, and crispy bacon crumbles tossed in a tangy dressing. It's a great way to enjoy broccoli and cheese on a keto diet while incorporating additional low-carb vegetables.
For even more delicious options, here are some other low-carb broccoli recipes to choose from:

• Keto Flank Steak with Cauliflower and Broccoli
• Broccoli Cheddar Fritters
• Ketogenic Broccoli Cheddar Soup
• Keto Beef and Broccoli
• Keto Broccoli Cheddar Balls
• Keto Broccoli Cheddar Tots

Potential downsides of broccoli
While broccoli is generally safe and well tolerated by most people, it does have some potential downsides.
The way broccoli is prepared can significantly impact its nutritional value. Certain cooking methods, such as boiling, microwaving, and stir-frying, can substantially decrease beneficial nutrients and glucosinolates.
A study published by the Journal of Zhejiang University Science B investigated how cooking affects broccoli’s nutritional value.
The authors summarized, "All cooking treatments, except steaming, caused significant losses of chlorophyll, vitamin C, and glucosinolates. Steaming appears to be the best method for nutrient retention in cooked broccoli."
In addition, while cruciferous vegetables such as broccoli are nutrient-dense, consuming excessive amounts of dietary fiber can lead to adverse effects.
Contrary to popular belief, fiber can trigger gas and abdominal pain and may worsen constipation, especially in particularly sensitive individuals with digestive conditions.
In addition, broccoli is a rich source of vitamin K, which plays a crucial role in blood clotting. Consuming large amounts of broccoli may increase the risk of excessive bleeding in individuals with blood clotting disorders and those taking certain blood-thinning medications.
If you are taking blood thinners, it’s recommended that you consult a healthcare provider to discuss appropriate dietary intake.

Link for all the chapters available for free here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
Deep in the groaning halls of sinew and bone he awaited his audience with the god. At a wave of his hand the ribs which held up the ceiling contracted, tendons shifting within the pink walls of the chamber as the jagged, calcareous spurs that composed the doorway sank back into the spongy masses of tissue, revealing a passage curving down and out of sight.
Menash stood before the yawning portal and considered eternity. This was no an idle thought: here in the Dawning Chamber, the concept was very real. His father, Yulan, had stood in this exact spot times beyond count. When he was struck down in his prime by the Night Weaver and her Leaper offspring, torn limb from limb as he fought to defend Chthonis from a raiding party, Menash’s uncle, Aqavarr, had carried his broken remains over that grinning threshold to join the hosts of the dead, never to return.
A hot and heavy exhalation rattled up out of the depths, wafting in the acrid scent of the bonding pools and the wet slithering sound of the rebirthing canals. Menash felt a crackle of static in the corners of his mind before the signal sharpened and he heard It whisper distinctly:
“Enter…”
The familiar dread crept its way up the small of his back, and he gave a little shiver. No matter how many times he had communed with the Vitalus, he’d never been able to shake the feeling of his utter insignificance. But he persevered, walking bravely down the slurping passage, past the rows of broad antechambers lining either side of the hallway. Each one held a slumbering shape immersed in a cryogenic bath, towering hulks of muscle encased in ribbed and riveted plates of chitin. No two were alike in size or physiology, but all seemed to emanate the same primeval aura of dread that tickled Menash’s fight-or-flight-instinct, skewing it very much towards the latter response. These were the Hollowores, soulless avatars of the Vitalus, each one a tool capable of eradicating an entire species. As Menash approached, one of the living weapons stirred to life. A pronged, anvil-shaped head emerged from the bath, umbilical feeder tubes detaching from its armored flanks as the rest of its bulk followed, its mauve exoskeleton as sleek and shiny as amethyst. The Hollowore extended legs as thick as grown pine trees and lifted itself above him, its pairs of crushing pincers dripping amniotic fluids as it herded him towards the central room.
Bundles of white gossamer filaments spread all across the floor, encircling steaming pools of pus and acid. He saw arms and legs, sensory organs and entire exoskeletons being knitted before his very eyes, the amino acid chains being stitched on a layer at a time, the weeping pus evidence of microphages fighting off possible infections as the Vitalus did Its work.
These were the next generation of exomorphs, yet to be assigned to their hosts. It was here that Vitalus constantly improved the only thing that could ensure the continued survival of Menash’s subspecies. Exomorphs were bonded to Gallivants at birth, the organisms supplying their hosts with the means to breathe an atmosphere they was never meant to endure, and the strength to fight in a world that was red in tooth and claw. They were as swift as the summer wind and could multiply their host’s muscular power by up to twelve times their natural output.
But for all their God-given might, Gallivants were still mortal. They could and often did perish in the endless struggle for existence that the Vitalus called the Great Game. But even in death they could still commit their essence to posterity, passing down their defining traits through the malleable genetic code of the gilt helix. It was the Vitalus’ greatest boon; through the gilt helix a single individual could become a progenitor of an entire generation, becoming at one stroke the father of whole nations and peoples.
One day he too would prove worthy of the honor that Yulan had earned with his life. But he was not alone in that ambition. Menash was annoyed to find the crimson-clad Vezda and the cowardly Racek waiting for him inside, standing next to a large ball of filaments that hung from a tonsil-like growth hanging from the walls.
This node pulsed, emitting a small storm of bioelectric activity, networks of fungi conveying commands in the form of oscillating voltages to their communities of symbiotic bacteria, the latter containing greigite mineral crystals aligned in the shape of electromagnetic coils. Other networks hidden in the walls modulated and amplified the signals, and the three Gallivants steeled themselves for the onrushing flood of information as the Vitalus tapped into their minds.
He was a candle before the raging heart of the thunderstorm. For an instant Menash touched a fraction of Its intelligence, the divisions of time and space rolling back as they joined the ocean of shared consciousness, becoming one with the living systems of Arachnea. From the tiniest aeroplankton floating above the waves of the golden coastlines, to the herds of ultrapods munching their way through swathes of trees in the savannahs. Menash felt himself pushing up out of the soil, longing and lusting and reaching for the sunlight with a trillion green fingers uncurling, alive with the furious movement of life.
But what was that flicker of orange to the east? That searing heat, that prickling pain spreading like a cancer down his side?
The Vitalus scooped them up and hurled them headlong into hell itself. A roaring wildfire was sweeping into the heart of the eastern rainforests. Menash tasted ash and ruin, felt pieces of himself wither and burn, his branches tongues of fire, wood cracking from the intense blaze, sap boiling instantaneously upon contact and rupturing, splitting him right down the grain. He fled in terror, running, slithering, digging, swimming, flying away in crazed panic from the walls of red death closing in on him. As his skin flaked off in clumps of charcoal he looked back and saw it towering over the treetops, the epicenter of this howling vortex of destruction: the grey behemoth. Its burnished metal hide gleamed like copper, reflecting the fury of the conflagration burning well into the night.
Menash pulled his mind away before it was lost forever in the storm of electric potentials. He saw Racek and Vezda swaying on their feet, breathing hard and fast.
“Heart of the World,” he managed to gasp, “What is your bidding?”
The Hollowore maneuvered itself until it was facing him directly. Tiny beady eyes fixed him in their blank gaze. The node emitted a blue pulse and the creature shuddered as it received the signal. It opened a maw powerful enough to chew boulders into gravel and rumbled:
“This one is the alpha which survived first contact with anomalous variable. It will tell Us what occurred, and from whence this threat emerged.”
“It came from the karst mountain range, where the yellowjacket Amit live,” Menash replied, “It was destroying the largest mound in that area, massacring its inhabitants. It brought the mountain down on them—we’ve never seen anything like it. Zildiz was the first on the scene. She warned us not to approach, and that it was dangerous, but some of us,” here he cast an angry look at Vezda, “Some of us went ahead and tried to scavenge from the bodies of the dying. Then the behemoth ignited the air and burned scores of us to cinders.”
“Irrational. Why did you do this?”
“W-we thought that you had spawned the grey behemoth,” Menash stammered, embarrassed to say the least, “That it was the newest addition to the Great Game, another species of ultrafauna that would help perfect Arachnea.”
“Not so. It was made by an evil far older than the All-In-One,” replied the Vitalus, “It is called a Divine Engine. In cycles past, this evil sought to undo this world and all that inhabit it. In that, it almost succeeded.”
Menash felt his blood run cold at those words.
“Is it the only one of its kind?” Racek piped up. Menash and Vezda both bristled at his interruption; subordinates were only supposed to speak when spoken to.
“There were several deployed here in Our infancy. We had thought them all destroyed in the War of Creation.”
“Your Munificence,” Racek went on, heedless of the venomous looks he was getting from the other two, “Most of us survived because Zildiz persuaded us to dive into the river. She saved all our lives! But as I washed up on the riverbank, I saw the behemoth casting a seedpod into the skies. I did not see where it landed, but it was travelling in a high arc due east. Is this the behemoth’s method of reproducing? If so, then how many offspring can it generate from this one seed?”
The Vitalus met his questions with a minute of silence. Menash had never known It to take so long to respond to a query, and felt another stab of unease in his gut. Unless he was imagining things, the Vitalus seemed genuinely disturbed by the scenario that Racek has raised, enough to convince Menash that the danger was far from hypothetical.
“That is a distant possibility,” It said somewhat cryptically, “Regardless, We cannot allow the Engine’s continued existence.”
“Then it must be destroyed,” Vezda said, her barbed tail eagerly perking up.
“We are not certain that it can be,” the Vitalus said, and Menash heard Racek audibly gulp at the admission.
“But Your Omniscience, you alone are the arbiter of growth and decay,” Vezda said in disbelief, “Surely you can unmake this monster as well?”
“Perhaps. The Divine Engines were built to withstand the extremes of temperature, gravity, atmospheric pressure, acidity and irradiation found on semi-inhabitable exoplanets. Worlds of bareness and desolation, glassed by thermonuclear bombardment or infested with alien microorganisms. In the wars of Our youth, the Betrayers used tungsten-alloy warheads fired from space platforms to crack their bulkheads. Not even Our vessels, the Hollowores, could damage them in any significant way. We will need time to gather the raw materials and fabricate the weapons needed to end this threat.”
“What must we do?” Menash asked.
“If this variable is not dealt with, it could upset the delicate balance We have sacrificed so much to achieve. Already the wildfire it has caused will release close to 400 million metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and destroy 2.3 million acres of forest before Our countermeasures can stop it. Time is our limiting factor. If the Engine cannot be destroyed now, it must be restrained.”
“It hasn’t moved an inch since we last saw it,” Vezda said brightly, “Maybe it has already died?”
“Yes, and maybe your mother was a horka toad,” Racek said snidely. Vezda scowled and took a step towards him, then stopped as she remembered that she trod on hallowed ground.
“Not so. It has merely gone dormant. Having expended its fuel, it is now running on the bare minimum of its reserves. My children, you must ensure that it does not wake again. Establish a quarantine zone around the Engine and let none approach, on pain of death. The Leaper kindreds will secure the ground while the Gallivants patrol the skies.”
Vezda and Menash exchanged troubled looks. Nobody wanted Leapers establishing a foothold in what was essentially a buffer zone between their subspecies. Once allowed to settle in a habitat, it would not take long for them to adapt and become masters of their new territory. Ousting them would become a battle of attrition, and given the lower birthrates of Gallivants, it was not one they could long afford.
“Respectfully, we do not require assistance from our brother kindred,” Menash ventured, “We are more than capable of safeguarding the area ourselves.”
The node throbbed again, the bioelectric flashes taking on an angry purple hue. With a sound like the grinding of a millstone the Hollowore clashed its claws together impatiently. All three of the mortals took a hasty step back.
“The alpha will obey, or another will be found that can,” the Vitalus growled at them, “All subspecies will observe a general truce during this period. This is a temporary addition to the Great Game. Those that serve Us well shall be rewarded. We shall also enlist the aid of your terrestrial cousins, as well as the Cataphract clans to replenish the soil, and lone Saints who shall rove beyond the quarantine zone.”
Menash’s unease deepened. The Vitalus was bringing together four different kindreds, some of which killed each other on sight, in a move that reeked of desperation. The kindreds had worked together before, of course, on complex projects such as altering rainfall patterns and husbanding struggling species, but never so many at once. This was bound to end in bloodshed.
“Those that break the truce shall be chemically neutered, and their gilt helix purged from the existing gene pool,” the Vitalus continued, “You will maintain this quarantine until We have dealt with the Engine.”
“It is understood!” Menash and Vezda said at once.
“But what about Zildiz?” Racek blurted out, again risking his entire lineage by speaking out of turn, “She might still be alive out there!”
“He’s right,” Menash found himself agreeing despite his dislike for Racek, “She’s our alpha, after all. It would be a shame to lose her helix. Do we have your leave to send out a party to recover her?”
The Vitalus pondered the request for a moment, then crushed his hopes when it said:
“Regrettable, the loss of the female. Valuable stock for the breeding program. But it has not responded to Our signals—it is unlikely to have survived. The female Vezda shall take up its duties as alpha.”
“But Your Benevolence—” both men cried out in unison.
“It is decided. She has risked the Great Game, and must abide by its outcome. To speak more on this would risk Our displeasure,” the god warned.
“We can’t spare the manpower anyway,” Vezda pointed out, trying not to look too pleased at Its decision. She darted a quick look at Menash, long enough for him to see the selfish desire festering in her heart. He turned away from her in disgust, baring his blades by the slightest of margins to let her know what he thought of her, then asked the Vitalus:
“But what of the Engine’s seedpod? Should we search for it?”
“Negative!” the Vitalus boomed, its node reinforcing the word with a spike of activity that sent needles of pain spearing into their heads, “We shall complete this task. It is dangerous and can be entrusted to no other.”
The Hollowore angled its massive head towards the cavernous ceiling, armored flaps on its back sliding aside as it unfurled sets of rigid sixty-meter wings. A wide sphincter on the roof gaped open and Menash saw the evening sky awash with the stars in their milky multitudes. The Hollowore took a deep breath through the spiracles lining its thorax and abdomen, pumping air through a pair of hollow tube-like protuberances under either of its wings. Menash and the others quickly scampered to a safe distance. Seconds later there was a scream of chemical combustion and the Hollowore rose into the evening skies, leaving behind a long trail of superheated gases, the backwash almost knocking Menash off his feet. They watched as the Hollowore gained altitude, making straight for the columns of billowing smoke on the horizon, a sweeping shadow blotting out the light of the heavens.
The Vitalus’ mental presence receded with it. When it did not return, they took it to mean that they were dismissed and likewise took flight and headed for Chthonis. They were hardly out of the Dawning Chamber when Vezda seized the scrawny Racek by his wings and anchored her feet right up against his back.
“Funny little man, are you? Crack jokes at my expense again, and I’ll see to it that you’ll never fly again!” she snarled, yanking hard. Racek yelled as his wings threatened to pop out of their sockets.
“Stop!” Menash said, ramming his shoulder into her and knocking the smaller male out of her grip. Vezda rounded on him, blades out and her tail aquiver with rage.
“As for you! No one should speak to the Vitalus like that!” she shrieked, “Much less gainsay It! Are you trying to get us all killed? It is the source and continuance of life itself—”
“But the Vitalus doesn’t always consider the individual scale of things,” Menash reasoned, controlling his rising anger as he tried to defuse the situation, “Its scope of thought is beyond ours. Therefore it is up to us to look after each other. None of us can win the Great Game alone. We need people like Zildiz for the species to prosper.”
“Your logic is flawed,” Vezda spat, “Empathy is a sham devised by the selfish action of the gene, which seeks only to preserve itself. At least I am honest enough to look after my own interests. Your obsession with that whore is misplaced. Heed my words, Menash. What happened today marks a change in the Great Game. Only the ruthless will reap the rewards of this era. Think on that, and act accordingly.”
The female darted off in another direction, leaving the two behind.
“Thanks,” Racek said, rubbing at his sore shoulders, “My, my. She’s really taking her promotion very seriously, isn’t she?”
“This doesn’t make us friends,” Menash said shortly, “We share a common interest, that’s all.”
The two flew together in silence for a time, the dark canopy unrolling below their feet. Racek had always been a bitter rival for Zildiz’s affections. In the mating seasons he and Menash had flown the damsel-dance against each other countless times, racing and dogfighting at top speed through the dense bamboo thickets in an effort to impress her.
But each time she had always chosen Menash. Naturally. He was the stronger, the braver, the son of the Scourge who had slain hundreds on his lightning raids into Leaper territory. Their pairings had been brief and passionate, yet she had always laughed at the end and gone on her merry way, a rose petal borne on a scented breeze, the dalliance as meaningless to her as other concerns like eating or breathing.
But not to him. Right now, all that mattered was her. And Racek was the only one in the whole wide world who knew exactly how he felt. Did that mean he could be trusted? Menash considered the enormity of what he was about to do, and wavered. Then he saw her face in the darkness of his home, the face she wore when they were all alone together, and he took a deep breath before breaking the silence, saying:
“I’ll be in charge of the quarantine. I can arrange for you to disappear for a few days. I can have one of the younglings mimic your magnetosynaptic signal, make it seem like you’re with the rest of us.”
“You’d do that? For me?” Racek said in astonishment.
“Hah. Not for you,” Menash laughed softly. He looked Racek straight in the eyes and continued: “What’ll it be, then?”
If he so much as hesitates, I’ll have to kill him here and now, Menash told himself.
“Why, yes. Yes, of course!” the little brown male said vigorously.
“Good,” Menash sighed with relief, “She’ll be very grateful to whoever brings her home. I’d do it myself, but as an alpha I can’t risk being seen as disobedient.”
“Then why give me this chance? After all that’s passed between us?”
“I should have thought that was obvious,” Menash replied. Racek digested that for a bit, then out of nowhere said:
“If I find her—when I find her—I’ll tell her exactly who it was that sent me.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Bah! Just so we’re even, that’s all,” Racek grinned, his mouthparts slanting askew.
“Thanks, I guess. I’d…I’d appreciate that. You do understand what we’re risking here, right?”
“Sure. We’ll be total genetic write-offs if we’re caught. But it’s not like I wanted to see tiny ugly Raceks running around the house anyway. What about you, though? Why are you putting your neck on the chopping block?”
“You know why,” Menash said quietly, his thoughts still lingering on her face.
“Yes,” Racek agreed with a wistful air, “Yes, I suppose I do.”
And the pair spoke no more until they reached Chthonis.
Link for all the chapters available for free here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

HPylori, SIBO or SIFO or something else possibly
Hello all, I posted earlier but I didn't put a ton of needed context and info so I'm posting again so forgive me. I'm a 28m in the USA on the East Coast. I've been dealing with these symptoms for the last 7 years to variable degree of intensity. The symptoms are a tightness feeling in my chest, tightness in my rectum, globus, constipation, bleeding and swollen gums, increased flatulence that also smells incredibly bad, bad breath, burping that smells incredibly bad, feeling full quickly, headaches during flare ups, vitamin deficiencies, shoulder and lower back pain, anxiety, and not being able to digest certain foods.
This all started after having to take a zpak and doxycycline for an STD, my symptoms were at their worst at this point. My doctors assumed that I had prostatitis because if my complaining about rectal pain and put me through numerous antibiotics such as Cipro, levaquin and bactrim but these did nothing. Eventually I get referred to a gastrointerologist after they realized their mistake, over the years I had an endoscopy and colonoscopy done specifically to see if I had Crohn's, I luckily escaped that, Ive done the breath test for HPylori but came back negative, I'm not convinced it wasn't a false positive and in a couple of weeks I'm going to get another endoscopy done, I specifically asked my gastro to take biopsies in my stomach and small intestine to see if any bacteria or fungus comes up.
I think it might be something bacterial because a few months after my initial outbreak I had to take doxycycline again for a different issue and all my symptoms went away for a few days before coming back in a more mild state. My gastro diagnosed my with autoimmune gastritis and said antibiotics can have that effect but I feel like she's bs'ing me because of how at a loss we both are.
Also, I noticed I felt a ton better and my globus and some of my stomach pain subsided when I stopped taking my antidepressant medication Wellbutrin. Don't know what that's about.
In the last few months in particular though my symptoms have been fluctuating. I had to take doxycycline again for a UTI and it flared up my symptoms again, my doctor put me on Omeprazole 20mg twice a day or a few months and I slowly felt okay, however my symptoms flared up again but settled down after I stopped taking the Omeprazole but then flared up again this weekend and are at a constant at the moment.
What do you guys think?

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Memory transcription subject: Herq, Tilfish Junior Exterminator
Date [standardized human time]: December 3rd, 2136
“Understood, on our way.” Frankie stuffed his radio away.
“W-What? More Arxur?” I shivered.
“Don’t think so. Hope not. We gotta go to the van.”
The human didn't give me time to reply as he stepped over the body like it wasn’t even there. Swallowing some bile, I took aimed steps around it. The smell of blood wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It wasn’t any worse than burning flesh.
The stomps of Frankie’s boots down the stairs reminded me to keep moving. I scuttled down the stairs, turning the corner to see another body I was forced to step around. Two of them had come after us, two who were even more eager than the first group we encountered.
“Do you t-think it’s the same ones from before?” I asked.
The human grunted. “Hell if I know. But I wouldn’t doubt it one bit if it was. Guy got his ego hurt, and wanted some revenge. God knows if he was waiting there for an ambush.”
“They… couldn’t have known about the weapons, right?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. He at least knew we were stranded without a vehicle. Maybe put his bets on us getting some transport.”
I didn’t have much time to ponder it. Frankie was already peeking outside the building, shotgun raised. I came up behind him, checking behind as we scooted out of the building. Once he was confident, Frankie dashed towards the van.
We came upon it quickly. I was glad the Arxur he shot was on the other side to spare me from the gore. He turned around to the backside of the van, where his face contorted. “Holy shit.”
“What?” I asked, coming around next to him.
The scaly legs are the first thing I saw. They led up to its back, which looked like it had exploded. Blood was nearly everywhere around the gray, and I even thought I saw a piece of bone. My whole body begged me to run away from the gore, to find a corner to throw up in, but I couldn't look away. And that didn't even cover the Yotul.
The green-stained wraps around his legs were the first thing I noticed after the hulking mass of reptile. His right paw was a bleeding mess haphazardly wrapped in a loose bandage, and his other was curled around an Arxur gun—its gun, I realized. His face had speckles of red on it, much like the rest of the van. There was what could only be described as a huge gun beside him.
Relief washed over his features once he saw us, and he let the weapon clatter onto a bloody crate. “Where’s Luke?”
I watched Frankie for any signs of turning feral, despite the improbability of it ever happening. The copious amount of blood was more than enough to drive any predator into a crazed frenzy, but still Frankie showed enormous restraint. If anything, he almost looked… disgusted by it. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
He took a quick breath to steady himself. “Uh, Dusty took a few rounds, he’s patching her up. I see you can… handle yourself.”
“No,” the Yotul spat back. “It almost…” His voice broke, and he shook his head.
Frankie nodded. “Let’s get moving. I’ll… clear the way, if you could help him, Herq.” The human crouched down and gripped the monster's legs and gave a tug. He started sliding the body out of the way, a trail of blood marking every crate it was slumped over.
I took a step forward, suppressing a gag at the sights and smells. It was like walking into a predator’s den. Dark and damp and terrible, with evidence of what happened drowning my entire field of view. “W-What happened? It looks-”
“I shot the bastard.”
I twitched my antennae. “R-Right.” I took several breaths before finding the strength to proceed. I tried to ignore the blood marked across the walls and creeped in, though I couldn’t ignore the green smears that were on the crates. I did my best to avoid stepping on… anything, really.
The Yotul grabbed a red box full of first aid supplies and set it by his right side. He began to peel off the green-stained gauze on his paw. “I need an extra paw for this.”
“Of course. You’re Reno, right?” He ignored me. I felt a shiver spread through my carapace as he revealed the wound. “T-Those look like-”
“Yeah, I know.”
I gave him a flick of my antennae. He raised a bottle of what I assumed to be antibiotic solution, which I took. I gingerly uncapped the bottle and murmured, “This is going to sting.”
“Do you constantly state the obvious? Just get it over with.”
I took his paw in my feeler and generously poured it over the wound. He let out a small groan, but nothing more. I wiped it, then took some gauze and began wrapping it far better than he could with just a paw and a mouth. I tightened it, and sealed it with some adhesive.
“There. I-I think that’s good, but I don’t commonly work with other species.”
“I can tell.” The Yotul began to get up on their injured legs.
“A-Are you sure you should be walking?” He ignored me again. I stuck out an arm to help him. “Here, at least-”
“I don’t need your help,” he spat, slapping me away with annoyance. He shakily stood up, leaning precariously against the side of the van atop the crates.
I waved my antennae with concern. “I… Let me know if-”
“I won’t,” he coldly said, not giving me so much as a glance back as he hobbled out of the van.
I don’t blame him. The Arxur looked like he was inches away from tearing him apart. Not to mention the claw marks on his wrist… I can’t imagine what happened to him just moments ago.
I crawled out of the van after him, glad to be out, but probably not nearly as glad as him. Frankie came from around the van and dusted his hands.
“That was gross.” He turned to Reno. “You’re up already? Your legs are-”
“Worry about them when we’re in the truck. We need to get the fuck away from here.” He leaned against the van, catching his breath. He was clearly in pain, but didn’t want to show it.
“Gotcha. Luke should be—ah, right there.”
I followed his gaze, spotting the truck rolling towards us with its cracked windows and decorated doors. It stopped right beside the van. A human stepped out, the same one from the predator disease facility. He took one look at Reno, worry spreading across his face. “Holy shit.”
Reno grunted. “That’s what Frankie said.”
“I… We can talk in the truck,” Luke decided.
“Is my gun still in the building?”
“In the backseat.”
The Yotul lowered his head, letting out a breath of relief. I didn’t understand how much a simple firearm could possibly mean to him, but I wasn’t about to question him about it.
Lieutenant Holtas came to the other side of the van, whistling once he saw the crate. “Damn, this is… a lot.”
“Enough to turn the tide, I hope?” Frankie asked.
“There’s a chance it might be… If there’s anything left once we get back. Two of their bunkers are already swarming with Arxur.”
“T-Two?” I stammered. “Which ones?”
The predator shook his head dismissively. “Talk later.”
I shook my antennae in irritation, until another human then emerged from around the truck. It was the dark-skinned, dark-haired human from before as well, Dusty. Her vest had several lesions across it, far more than the few Frankie had received during his gutsiness. She wasn’t unscathed, however, as her left sleeve had been pulled up, revealing a stripe of bandaging. Her eyes regarded me with an expression I couldn't decipher, turning into a more shocked expression when they saw Reno. “...Damn.”
The Lieutenant turned to her. “Keep an eye out from where they came. Reno, do the same for the other side of the street. I’m not looking to get ambushed again.”
The two signaled their understanding. Luke’s gaze lingered a little longer on the wounded Yotul as he hobbled to retrieve his weapon from the truck.
Frankie grunted from behind me, picking up two big and bloodied crates. “Open the doors, would ya?”
I obliged, yanking open the hatches to the truck so the burly human could deposit the weapons. Luke walked past me, saw the mess in the back of the van, and shook his head while muttering something. Still, he crouched and grabbed two crates in each hand.
I couldn’t very well just stand around, so I begrudgingly walked over and picked the cleanest crates I could manage while repelling the numerous dry heaves my body wanted to conjure. I hefted them up, and followed the same path as Luke and Frankie.
I passed Dusty, who groaned, rubbing her left arm. “Why do these idiots use such a small caliber? You’d think they’d want to kill the people they’re shooting at.”
I nervously tilted my antennae. “You would… hope so.”
“They enjoy the thrill of the hunt,” Reno growled. “Use it to just incapacitate their prey. Dead ones don’t squirm while they’re eaten.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the street. As we continued to load the human armaments into the truck, the two kept a cautious set of eyes out on either side of the street. Frankie managed to fit the big gun back into its respective crate while Luke stared at it, incredulously. Dusty glanced back with a similar look, which gave me the feeling the predators were all thinking the same thing. The only one who didn’t break his focus was Reno.
The van got emptier, the truck got fuller, and soon enough we were ready to leave this place for good. Luke gave us the clear and got into the driver seat. Frankie took the front passenger seat, leaving the three of us to squeeze into the back. The windshield left a lot to be desired, and I wondered if Luke would even be able to see through it.
It was cramped, to say the least. I was forced into the side, with the Yotul in the middle, while Dusty filled in the remaining seat. From someone looking in from outside, it would be a very strange sight to behold.
She slammed the door shut. “Tight fuckin’ fit. Hope we have enough fuel.”
“Won’t be an issue,” Luke said, sending the engine revving as we began to accelerate.
Thank Formi we’re finally leaving. How long have I been awake for? How long have the Arxur been in Tepisil? And how are the exterminators from the human camp doing? There’s far too much to worry about.
I hoped Tealk was fine in the hatchery’s bunker. That is, if it wasn’t already compromised. Tepisil was given the tiny mercy of just a small warning prior to any bombs dropping. The shelters were likely packed to the brim. Just waiting for the Arxur to come.
“Frankie, give me some light, would ya?” Dusty ordered. She had pulled Reno’s hindlegs on her lap, and was now inspecting them with the help of Frankie’s flashlight. I could see the green blood that had leaked down his legs from the wounds, along with pieces of black debris.
Reno had no choice but to let Dusty tend to him. I tried my best to ignore the blood she was forcing out by ripping through the bandages, though I gagged upon seeing her dig into his flesh with a pair of tweezers, pulling out a small bullet while he hissed in pain. Those were the only noises for a time while the human used a strange syringe to push some sort of foam into the wound, then tightly wrapping his legs.
She did a better job than I ever could’ve. At this point, it shouldn’t have impressed me that the predators had a concept of medicine or even treatment for the wounded, rather than just leaving the weak for dead. The amount of care she put into someone from another species spoke volumes to the humans’ empathetic capacity.
The streetlights of the city finally receded from us. I could almost feel the weighty air in the truck lighten, like a part of the despair had been left behind in Dirlsil. It wouldn’t last for long.
At some point in the middle of all the crop fields, Frankie cleared his throat. “Can I be the one to break the silence? ‘Cause Reno shot that gray with a whole bloody anti-materiel rifle.”
“God, I’m glad somebody finally fucking said it. Point blank, too,” Dusty said.
The Yotul didn’t offer a response, only stared off into the distance. I felt nothing but sympathy for him. They meant well, but I suspected they did more harm than good. The humans clearly had no idea what he’d just gone through; the fear, the uncertainty, the possibility of being eaten alive. I had a feeling the only reason he was alive was because of his quick thinking, the Arxur’s cockiness, and luck.
Luke cleared his throat. “Uh, how did you fare, Frankie? I saw the marks on your vest.”
My human grunted. “Barely even felt them hit me. Once the shooting started we dove back into the toy shop. Arxur are damn cocky bastards, but I don’t reckon they’re used to whatever they’re chasing fighting back so hard. Shot one, ran up the stairs, shot the other. Easy as that.”
It was not, in fact, as easy as that. I was terrified the entire time. It was Frankie who did everything, and even then, he screamed and shouted during the entire encounter. He was fearless in the face of fear while I had been useless. Again. My only saving grace was that I didn’t freeze like I did at the PD facility, even if that meant I merely ran instead. I felt a stab of anger mixed with regret, an entirely unwelcome feeling that I decidedly earned.
I can’t rely on the Terrans forever. At some point, my uncontrollable fear is going to cost lives. I… I can’t let fear be the driver.
“We had four of the fuckers on us,” Dusty said. “Retreated into the store opposite yours. We were doing just fine ‘till one of them tossed a grenade.”
I felt Reno tense up to me. He had a thousand-lightyear stare.
“Then they came in after us, separated us from Reno. They were fucking relentless, didn’t give us a chance to fight. Forced us all the way back into the stockroom, then kept pushing their luck. Finally had a corner, then the bastards leapt forward rather than being smart, getting me tagged. Hurts like hell just thinking about flexing the muscle.”
“God, can we change the subject? I regret asking,” Lieutenant Holtas said, shifting uncomfortably. “Frankie, you want to try again with the UN? And Herq, now that you’re with us, can you contact Von and inform him of what happened?”
I almost flinched when he said my name. “Y-Yeah, of course.” I started to pull out my holopad. I hovered over Tealk’s contact before moving to Von’s. I tapped the icon, and it rang for only a second before he picked up.
“Herq?”
I pulled the pad closer, overhearing Frankie start his own call to the UN. “Yes, it’s me. We made it out of Dirlsil with the weapons, and we’re in one piece.”
“Formi is that good to hear. I won't sugarcoat it, things have gotten much worse. You may have heard it from the humans, but cattle shuttles just landed around Bunker Four… which has no one to defend it. Bunker Six had contact and they are at a stalemate, but won't stay that way. I… sincerely hope you brought lots of ammo.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I can’t say for certain what the predators brought with us… We’re driving as fast as we can, we expect to be there in forty minutes.”
“Too long… The grays are already going into buildings, trying to flush them out. We don’t have the firepower.”
“I… We need a rally point in order to distribute them as fast as possible.”
“One advantage is that they aren’t using their numbers prowling the empty buildings on the outskirts… Shit, Polle is calling me… It’s about Bunker Six. Listen, I’ll send you more information when I can. Call me ten minutes before you reach the city.”
“Yes, of course. Please, stay safe.”
“We both know that isn’t going to happen. Hurry.”
A tone signified he hung up the call. I tentatively swirled my antennae, seeing my company look away. “I-I’m guessing everyone heard that?”
Reno flicked his ears, and the humans nodded from the front seats. A steady silence came over us. It was probably well into the early hours of the morning at this point. My body was tired, and my mind more so. I knew well that I should have been more scared or worried, but I simply didn’t have the energy. It was like Frankie said earlier.
“Who wants a granola bar?” Frankie abruptly barked.
Luke shrugged. “I mean…”
The two humans accepted his offer, not like they had much choice since they were already being distributed. A bar was put into Reno’s paws, and suddenly, I was holding one too.
“It… doesn’t have meat, does it?” I asked.
“No, you idiot. I don’t eat meat,” Reno hissed, unwrapping his food.
“Sorry… I just wanted-”
“It’s just a bar of sugary grain. You’d think you would know by now that humans aren’t going to hurt you, or do anything else ‘predatory.’” He said the last word with distaste, like it personally offended him. He was clearly more used to the primates than I was, or ever could be. I knew they wouldn’t mean me any harm, but it was hard to shake off the thoughts that always lingered in my mind when around predators.
I thought his behavior was simply fried nerves from his close call with the Arxur, but there was something more to it, something bitter in his tone that hinted at more than just the last encounter. It reminded me of hearing about his outburst at my sister, Tealk, back at the hatchery. It didn’t sit right with me, but I wasn’t in any position to ask him about it, especially not at that moment.
Dusty was already stuffing the bar into her mouth, not much caring for how revolting I found it. I’d gotten used to their toothy smiles, but seeing her take a bite, just like she would chow down on a piece of bloody meat… If I wasn’t so hungry after so many hours, I would’ve lost my appetite.
Reno bit into the bar, and I carefully unwrapped mine, ignoring the female’s sickening mouth movements. I gave a cautionary sniff before taking a small nibble. It was acceptable, even good considering I hadn’t eaten for so long. I took another bite, then another, and then I noticed Dusty looking at me.
I couldn’t help the way my muscles tensed in agitation. She was instinctively sizing me up, now that food was on her mind. “W-What is it?” I stuttered.
She raised her eyebrows, glancing away. “Nothing. Just the way you move your hands, er… tarsals? Tarsals, across your mandibles when you eat. It’s… nevermind.”
My… tarsals? I flexed a feeler, inspecting it like something was wrong with it. I looked back at the predator, who was now looking out the window. At least she wasn’t… staring at me anymore. Humans got stranger every moment I spent with them. I thought there was a glimmer of hope that they wouldn’t all be as strange as Frankie, but that clearly had yet to be proven.
I took another small bite. Before I knew it, I had eaten the whole thing and had nothing left to occupy the time. There were only dark crop fields outside our truck, and predators or the predator-diseased inside. Nothing to distract me from the knowledge that Sillis was going to fall. Nothing to distract me from the thoughts telling me to give up, to run away, like a coward.
A muted atmosphere of haunting tranquility came over our vehicle, one that everyone silently and willfully acknowledged. We all knew what we were driving towards.
—
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Thanks to u/WCR_706 for proofreading. And, of course, thanks to SpacePaladin15 for the wonderful universe.

Hey all!
After ~3 years of no progress, I fully recovered in about eight weeks. 97% of the symptoms are gone, including PEM, fatigue, MCAS reactions, and feeling sick most of the time. I’m back to working 9-10h a day with superb cognitive output, training as hard as I can (i.e., 30min peloton 168 bpm, >10k steps a day, lots of bodyweight work during the day), and being truly myself. Gosh, I’m feeling fucking blessed. Like I was asleep for 3y and finally woke up. I have SO MUCH energy. Started a new project, got back to writing essays, hanging out with friends, etc. I’m fucking alive again!
Case summary:
Got a very mild Covid in the beginning of July 2021; didn’t even have fever but felt exhausted (i.e., struggled getting out of bed in the morning) and lost smell and taste; recovered in ~10 days; senses returned in ~2-3 weeks.
Developed neuro issues (cognitive PEM, difficulty thinking) and fatigue during acute covid, literally next day after exposure, and they never went away; this was my first long covid symptom.
Then kept developing more & more symptoms:

• food sensitivities in Aug-Sep 2021
• chronic recurrent sinusitis in Sep 2021
• dysautonomia and POTS in 2022
• stomach (H Pylori), gut, and joints issues in summer 2023
• more sensitivities (cold, heat, pill coating) in summer 2023
• neuropathies, more severe joints issues in late 2023/2024
• recurring viral infections (reactivation?) in May, Sep, Dec 2023, Mar 2024

My major sX on March 2024 were:

1. feeling and being sick most days (fatigue/ugh state, brain fog, reddish cheeks, sinus and ear Sx, sometimes cold sores)
   1. frequent (every month) sinus infections (very thick yellow mucus, severe cognitive dysfunction, sinus and ear Sx: pressure, congestion, postnasal drip, hot ears in the evening)
   2. persistent brain fog/cognitive dysfunction: working and long-term memory issues, slow info processing, word recall troubles, not feeling like myself/depersonalization, etc.
2. mental and physical PEM
3. MCAS: allergy-like reactions to foods (esp high-histamine), cold, pressure, exercise, certain antibiotics (augmentin), tablet coating, etc.
   
4. dysautonomia and POTS
   
5. gut issues: bloating, upset, abdominal pain (esp right lower quadrant; even tested for appendicitis via bloods + CT + ultrasound)
   
6. joints issues: pain and swelling in both feet metatarsals (bursitis)
   
7. misc:
   
   1. pain, weakness, and discomfort in 4th and 5th left hand fingers
   2. right eye issues: sometimes enlarged pupil (only in right eye), pain above right eye if I roll my eyes up, looking at bright objects leaves a lasting mark in the visual field (but does not in the left eye)

Summary of what I believe healed me:

1. lots of sunlight: sunrise, midday, sunset; as much time as possible under the sun (see below for the pic how I’m typing these words!) >> this cleared up sinus, ear, and GI infections + improved energy and mood
2. cold exposure: 3 min cold showers + morning and evening ~20min naked torso outside at ~5-9 degrees celsius; plus temp variability: hanging out naked torso outside as much as possible to retrain that vasculature and aerate the body >> this reduced stress, removed fatigue, and brought my energy back
3. spending most of my time outdoors, in nature (parks, forest, meadows, lakes, etc.): hanging out amongst animals, birds, etc. >> this further reduced stress to basically zero and brought back a sense of joy and serenity
4. nervous system retraining via specific types of movement and aromatherapy: balance, dancing, climbing, boxing moves, fencing, crawling + smelling flowers, trees, essential oils, herbs >> this brought back trust in my body and a sense of balance & peace
5. very clean, vegan, autophagy-optimized diet + eggs (i.e., no sugar, UPFs of any kind, all organic, mostly fresh/little cooked; lots of spermidine via sprouted rye, wheat; other autophagy boosting foods), with ~3 small meals a day and 20-40% caloric restriction >> this took away gut issues, reduced joint inflammation, and opened up my sinuses after years of congestion
6. lots of movement throughout the day and gradual return to more intense exercise: started from short and very light and low intensity bodyweight workout (10 mins; one set of squats, pushups, abs, etc.) and built up from that; z1 cardio 105 bpm walking with ~5kg backpack; then z2 peloton 15>20>30 mins; then more intense strength workouts with dumbbells + LOTS of movement throughout the day, every 20-30 mins, never still >> this also greatly improved energy, although I did get PEM first (in March-April) after more-or-less intense 40 min strength training with dumbbells, but then it went away; that lady from huberman pod (see below) had a brilliant point of how each type of exercise (walking, strength, endurance, HIIT, zone 2) positively affects mitochondria in different ways, “muscle contraction is medicine”
7. weirdly, 100% dark chocolate, 20-50g daily. It’s a strong autophagy inducer and boasts with antioxidants + boosts brain function and mood. >> I felt substantially better right after I started eating it, and never stopped.

Supplements and drugs I took: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1_oA0CONWDlPg7eEABA6tIo9Np5sfVy_iC497JrZDeoY/edit#gid=0
All they did was reduce brain fog + reactions to foods, but those sx immediately returned when I tried stopping the supps in Feb.
I think the main problem was mitochondrial dysfunction because all those things I did address it in various ways. Huberman released a great pod on it last week (https://youtu.be/8qaBpM73NSk?si=cDdTBiOzKk86wkQn) + check out Jack Kruse stuff for more info
Sending you all good energy. Stay strong. You can beat it.
VS