Snorting or eat adderall

I have adhd, autism, ocd, anxiety, depression, arfid (fear of choking and vomitting) and bipolar 2 is in question.
Failed meds: mirtazapine, zyprexa, zoloft, abilify, effexor, adderall. Lamotrigine kind if helped the depression, but that's when my anxiety got worse so i went off. Ritalin was okay, but curbed my appetite and made my ocd worse.
Lorazapam helps my panic at extremely low dose of 0.25mg as needed. Zofran helps my nausea.
The meds I tried and that failed it was immediate extreme side effects so they were only taken 1 or 2 days.
Where do I go from here? Any advice is appreciated. For reference I'm underweight so adhd can't be treated right now. I really need to get my ocd and anxiety and depression better, and preferably with meds that don't cause more nausea or lack of appetite. I can't do thc, as it causes my panic to get really bad. I've tried different ratios, smoking vs eating... it's a fail. My eating disorder is top priority, but I'm not sure where to go. I need my appetite increased, and I need my ocd to chill so i can eat.

“Will you look at that,” Captain Yontan marveled from the observation deck. They had arrived in the Solar System at long last, the old bastion of knowledge mankind had abandoned many millennia ago.
“Such a basic tech, yet so beautiful, so… poetic,” Lezlybe uttered, gazing at the constant flux of Sunfire Conduit pulled from the sun to one, two, three relays, and finally to the surface of Pluto, where its energy was being harnessed inside a crater. “And you’re certain that’s where the Ultimate Knowledge is stored?”
“Yes,” Yontan nodded. “Every clue leads to Pluto. Can you imagine? The Ultimate Knowledge, lost for millennia, on this planet out of all places.”
“Ready to descend at your command, captain,” announced Ghenna.
Yontan turned to his crew and smiled. It was the first time they had seen him do that in months. “Hover around the south-south-eastern quadrant of the crater. That’s where the entrance is supposed to be.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Lezlybe’s turned to face the captain, her long black hair swirling around with her.
“Wouldn’t that energy burn us on approach?”
“It might be basic tech, but not that basic, Lez,” said Yontan. “It’s safe up to a distance of 100 meters. Don’t underestimate the intelligence of our ancestors because they built this thing in the distant past. They were as smart as us. Smarter even, in certain aspects, I’m sure.”
“Found the entrance, captain,” said Ghenna. It was a pale peach colored door built on the craterside.
“Land near it, wherever it’s stable.”
“Yes, Sir!”
The ship touched down next to the Hollis Crater. Yontan and four others suited up and left the craft. Before heading for the door, the team stopped to gaze at the Sunfire Conduit from their position. It went up, up, up as far as the eye could see.
Jmerr was awestruck.
“I can’t believe we’re able to look at it with basic sun visors. Do you think our ancestors purposefully designed it like that?”
“Of course,” said Yontan, mesmerized by the spiraling blaze swooshing down the crater. “Aesthetics have always been important, especially since it used to be connected to three planets, two dwarf planets, and eight moons. Many renown painters have depicted the Conduits in their art. Although no physical portraits survived, their works have been well documented over hundreds of books.”
Lezlybe approached Jmerr and put her hand over his shoulder.
“I kind of wish we could hear its thunderous sound. I imagine it’d be a satisfying swoosh, kind of like a blowtorch.”
“You’d be deaf before you’d hear a thing,” laughed Yontan. “We’re speaking of extremely powerful jets coming from a star, after all. I can’t wait to see why they’re pulling so much energy on such a small planet. It’s totally excessive in my view.”
“Maybe it’s not,” said Lezlybe. “Especially if the Ultimate Knowledge is behind this door.”
The team approached the door, a small black panel to its side. Yontan placed a round device on top and, seconds later, it retracted into the ground.
“A Grampus?” frowned Jmerr, even though no one could see his face behind the visor. “Why do you use this old AI?”
“Because I don’t know the code,” explained Yontan as they stepped inside a long hall. “So I brought this device with me to crack the password. Don’t forget that this here is also old tech. Newer devices could break something.” He glanced over his shoulder at the wide-open entryway with the ship not too far behind. “But it looks like the Grampus broke it anyway since it doesn’t slide shut.”
At the end of the wide turquoise hall, another door was easily popped open with Yontan’s device. This time, however, the heavy door closed shut when the last person stepped in.
“I hope we’re not trapped in this small room,” gulped Lezlybe.
“Don’t worry, we can ask someone on board to cut it open if needed,” said Yontan. “After all we –”
PSHHHHHHHH
A burst of gas sprayed them from all sides, followed by a shower of heavy liquid. A few moments after it stopped, the door in front of them opened, and a gentle male voice greeted them.
“Welcome to U.K. ONE. The current air pressure is at 101.3 kilopascals, with a temperature of 22.4 degrees Celsius and a humidity level set at 60% RH.”
The voice then proceeded to inform them about the room’s condition among other sets of data.
“I see. We were inside a basic decompression chamber,” muttered Jmerr.
The tallest crewmate, Lessandre, popped his helmet off and took a deep breath.
“Ah, historical fresh air,” he boomed, looking around the oval room. “It brings a tear to my eye.”
“What are you doing?” Yontan shouted. “We don’t know what particles or microorganisms could linger in here.”
“Relax, captain. Tyche analyzed the air and told me it’s fine. Why don’t you all retract your visors and experience this multimillennial-old air? You’ll never have the chance to do that again, you know.”
Yontan checked with his own version of his AI, Tyche, and everything seemed to be fine, so he retracted the visor of his helmet as well, just in time to scratch an itch on his beard. The rest of the crew followed, except for Jmerr.
“Come on, Jmerr. It’s a unique experience, my friend,” beamed Lessandre, tapping on his shoulder.
Jmerr scowled at Lessandre. “I refuse to take unnecessary risks.”
“As you wish,” Lessandre grinned, loudly sniffing the air. “Ahhh. The air in here is exceptionally… how to describe it?”
“Dusty?” Lezlybe chimed in. “I think the auto-clean on the filter stopped working long ago.”
Yontan was ignoring his crew, inspecting the walls of this oval room for clues. But the room was pretty much empty, outside of the air conditioning holes and lights flickering on the ceiling.
“I know there’s another door on the other side of the crater, but that one’s the entrance to the accumulator and workspaces,” he muttered to himself, caressing the wall in the hopes of finding a button or a gap of sorts.
“Is that place also turquoise?” asked Lessandre. “I really hate this color. Reminds me too much of my ex.”
Lezlybe rolled her eyes.
“Then why don’t we go there?” asked Ghenna, who had closed her visor since she didn’t like the smell.
“Because,” began Yontan absent-mindedly while brushing his hands over the wall, “every document points to this place. We’ll check the other site if we don’t find anything here. Now if only I – aha! A button. This might be it.”
Yontan pushed it with his finger. Instead of clicking, like any other button would, his index finger sank completely in. He immediately withdrew it, fearing something might cut his finger off. But the button came back, except it was now white and protruded out of the wall. Yontan hesitantly pressed it.
An oval pedestal emerged from the middle of the floor, gradually rising until it reached chest height. The left side slid open with melodious clicks, and out came a small table with a round black object on it with a sky-blue center. Before they had the time to guess what it was, a hologram rose from it, displaying the head of an old balding man with a lazy eye.
“Greetings, future humans,” said the feeble voice. “And welcome to K.U. ONE. What is your purpose here?”
Yontan glanced at his crew, who gave him a nod and shrugs. He cleared his throat and spoke clearly, “We’ve come here to gain access to the Ultimate Knowledge, which is said to contain the answers to our purpose within the universe.”
“I see. And you are one, two, five. Oh! That is good news, good news indeed. I’ve been waiting for you. Well, not me per se, since I’m long dead, I suppose,” the hologram laughed, “but my digital image. And five? Oh, proof that nothing happens at random.”
Yontan was slightly taken aback.
“Wait. You’re not a simple recording?”
“No, no. I’m enhanced with artificial intelligence. It speaks as I would speak, saying what I asked it to say – with a bit of panache. Now, move to the other side of the pedestal. It will pop open and contain a box.”
The other side popped open, displaying a silver box embossed with gold on the edges. It was beautiful. Lessandre grabbed it and tried to pry it open.
“Tut-tut! You need the key to open the box. I’ll hand it over only of you accept to eat its contents.”
“Eat it?” Yontan uttered in excitement. “Will it alter our brains? Give us the knowledge we yearn for?”
“Not quite. But it is a necessary step.”
“I won’t touch it,” Jmerr stated firmly. “I don’t trust this man. Whatever’s inside, it’s been in there for thousands of years. There’s no way it’s still edible.”
“Oh but it is,” grinned the man. “What do you think the Sunfire Conduit is used for?”
“What?” uttered Lezlybe. “The power of the sun used for… food?”
“Of course, there’s more to it. But a lot of energy is necessary to cool it down to near zero kelvin and keep it that way until it’s very slowly reheated to the ideal temperature for you to savor.
“Now, will you eat its contents or not?”
“Why don’t we bring it back to the ship and study it?” suggested Jmerr.
“The moment you leave the room with the box, its contents will be destroyed, and so will the key to Ultimate Knowledge.”
Yontan exchanged a glance with his crew. Lessandre gave him thumbs up, Ghenna nodded and Lezlybe shrugged. Jmerr was the only one to firmly shake his head.
“Fine, we’ll eat its contents,” said Yontan, upon which Jmerr put his hands up in the air in frustration.
A key appeared from the front of the pedestal. Yonan used it to open the box Lessandre was holding. Five dark-brown spherical objects were neatly placed within fitting molds, resembling the five dots on a die.
“Behold the Five Orbs of Knowledge,” the hologram said solemnly. “I recommend one for each of you.”
Jmerr crossed his arms. “There’s no way I’m touching this.”
“What if someone eats two?” asked Yontan, eyeing Jmerr.
“It would sadden me, even though it might be beneficial to grasp the Ultimate Knowledge.”
Without hesitation, Lessandre popped the middle one in his mouth. Every other crewmate was staring at him. A few bites in, he suddenly froze, eyes wide open. His gaze slowly shifted from Yontan, to Lezlybe, to Ghenna – whose visor was now lowered – and finally stopped on Jmerr.
“Awl eash ‘em bofh,” he rapidly chewed, popping a second one in. “Awl eash ‘em owl ihf you guysh downt.”
Yontan’s hand was shaking as he picked his Orb. Lezlybe and Ghenna also chose one.
“On the count of three,” gulped Yontan, as he noticed the horrified look on Jmerr. “One… two… three!”
The shell of the Orb had a slight crunch, with a rather soft, creamy inner core, gently melting on their tongue. Sweet with a zest of bitterness. Each bite, each movement of their tongue was another moment they savored, dreading the end of this unique flavor. It was an explosion of exoticism, a sensory overload inside their mouth; the richness of the Orb filled their taste buds and souls alike with pure bliss.
Then there was the aroma, dissolving the dusty odor of the room with its arboraceous perfume. It reminded them of Terrestrial woods, now planted across various planets in the Milky Way. Comforting, ancient, nostalgic, and so raw at heart.
Fortunately, this jolly adventure didn’t end after they swallowed it, no, each residue, sticking to the various corners of their mouths, lingered like a fleeting memory soon to disappear forever. Yet it was still there, to grasp with the palm of their hands. But when they tried to, it became vapor, dwindling, yet etched in their brains with such strength it would be impossible to ever forget this moment. Ever.
Their minds were still floating on a cloud of ecstasy when Yontan stared at Lessandre.
“You ate two,” he breathed. “And you,” he turned to Jmerr, “you have no idea what you’ve just missed. It’s… indescribably delectable.” Yontan faced the hologram. “Please, give us one more, for Jmerr. He has to try this… Orb.”
The hologram grinned widely, creasing the old man’s entire face.
“These were the last five. There are no more.”
“WHAT?” everyone shouted at once.
“Th– that’s it? No more?” Yontan’s shoulder slumped. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier? We could’ve taken it back to the ship and try to recreate it.”
“It’s impossible without the recipe.”
“A recipe? Give it to us, I don’t care about Ultimate Knowledge anymore,” Lessandre laughed.
“But you had two,” Lezlybe scowled.
“And I want more,” he chuckled. “I’ve never felt better in my life. Even two were far too few!”
“Yes, hand us the recipe so we can share it with the rest of the crew,” pleaded Yontan.
The hologram seemed more and more pleased with itself.
“Even if I gave you the recipe you couldn’t make it when the main ingredient’s missing.”
“What’s the main ingredient?” Ghenna asked.
“Cacao. And these were chocolate truffles, which I made myself utilizing the very last cacao beans to ever exist. I’m sorry. You’ll never eat chocolate ever again.”
Jmerr seemed disappointed upon hearing it, especially after seeing how everyone reacted to it.
“B – but… why?” Yontan asked. “Why offer us a delicious treat only to punch us in the gut right after?”
The hologram smiled. “Think. What is your purpose here?”
“To acquire Ultimate Knowledge… But I fail to understand…”
“If my clock is correct, 3622 years have passed since the last human – which is myself – set wheels in this room. 3622 years of technological advancement, of accumulated mastery of various sciences and understanding of the universe. Yet you believe Ultimate Knowledge is to be found in the past?”
The crewmembers looked at each other, dumbfounded.
“So… it doesn’t exist?” suggested Lezlybe. “We’ve come this far for nothing…”
“Haven’t you just experienced the ultimate delicacy of humankind? Therein lies everything you need to know.”
“It’s not about the knowledge,” began Yontan, “but about the experience we savor?”
“Exactly!” Clapping hands appeared in front of the hologram’s face. “Instead of looking for something that may not be, learn to cherish the transient nature of existence through every experience you encounter. Who knows what happens once you’re dead? Constant hesitation leads to a life of lost opportunities. One of you has learned this lesson the hard way, I’m afraid. However, the tall man over there has greatly benefited from this lesson. Balance in all things!”
“No data is ever lost,” snorted Jmerr scornfully. “Death is simply the temporary loss of information until it’s retrieved.”
“The no-hiding theorem,” smiled the hologram. “Of course. But you wouldn’t be here if you could completely determine the state of the entire universe. Thus, my rhetoric stays valid. For as long as this is beyond our grasp – likely until humanity’s extinction – you ought to cherish every experience and lose your fear of consequences within reason.”
The room went silent, the subtle taste of chocolate still lingering in their mouths like the fading words of an old love letter.
“What do we do now, captain?” Ghenna asked shyly.
“Take your new-found knowledge and share it with others,” the hologram said before Yontan could open his mouth.
“So… there really is nothing else here?”
“Nothing at all.”
The hologram fluttered for a moment.
“Were these really the last pieces of chocolate?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you eat them yourself?”
“Because sharing is the quintessential attribute of humanity. And I’m glad to have contributed my part, even though it took several millennia.”
“So why use all that energy from the sun?” asked Lezlybe.
“It’s twofold,” said the hologram. “Partially to keep this chocolate in pristine state, as I said before. You’ll understand the second reason soon enough. Let’s say it’s a parting gift, for that man who hasn’t eaten his Orb.”
“I don’t understand.” Yontan was running his fingers through his hair. “You speak of sharing, yet we won’t be able to share this exquisite experience. There’s no chocolate left.”
“Share the wisdom you’ve acquired. Or perhaps you shall find something unique to share with others as I did. Even the stories of your adv–”
The man disappeared for a few seconds.
“–entures – Ah? We’ve been cut. Soon I shall be free, just like your minds. Swiftly return to your ships, and sail t–”
It flickered again and stopped for nearly ten seconds.
“–he vast empty space to… wherever your heart leads you. Farewell. Fare well indeed.”
The hologram zoomed out to show an old man sitting on a wheelchair, waving both hands. It flickered one last time before completely fading out with a hum.
Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke from everyone’s earpiece.
“Captain, is everything all right?” asked one of the crew left on the ship in a panic.
“Why? Did the entrance crumble down?”
“No, Sir. It’s the Conduit. You need to see this for yourself.”
The crew put on their visors and hurried out of the room, through the hallway, out on the freezing surface of Pluto. They gasped upon staring up.
“The Conduit!” Ghenna uttered.
It was oscillating, slowly shrinking until the last flames swooshed back and forth from the relay to the crater, and then, it retracted entirely.
“It’s… it’s gone…” sighed Yontan.
“The parting gift,” Jmerr sobbed. “He knew. He knew someone might not try out the chocolate truffle, and he purposefully shut down the entire system.”
Lessandre turned to Jmerr. “Consider this your incredible experience. We must be the only humans to ever see this happen in real time.”
“But we can reconnect it, unlike the chocolate, can’t we?” said Lizlybe.
Yontan shook his head. “Do you know of the ancient pyramids in the northern African continent?”
“Yeah…” she hesitated. “Vaguely.”
“Do you know why they’ve never been rebuilt?”
Lezlybe shrugged.
“Because there’s nothing to gain in doing so.” He pointed his finger at the vast expanse above him. “We’ve never rebuilt the ancient pyramids – not due to complexity, but due to loss of time and resources involved without any actual benefit. I’m afraid this is the last time anyone has admired this old tech at work.”
Upon their return on the ship, they told the rest of the crew what inside the U.K. ONE.
“So the Ultimate Knowledge doesn’t exist?” one of the crewmember asked.
Yontan took one last glance at the crater as the ship took off.
“I believe it does,” he beamed, looking at the bemused faces of his crew. “Not here.” He gently tapped his temple. “But here.” His hand rested on his chest. “And there.” His arms were wide open, as if trying to embrace his whole crew at once. “Acquired wisdom is the Ultimate Knowledge. And the ability to share experiences with others is our greatest gift.”

“We’re a meat family,” my dad would proudly tell strangers. He’d wait for the quizzical look, then launch into detail, starting with how many freezers we had, how long we could sustain ourselves on the contents. It was just his way of starting a conversation, which made sense when you considered that raising and home-killing animals for food was, for want of a better term, his life-long hobby. His prize possession was one of those industrial-sized vacuum sealers: you could put half a pig inside and wrap it in plastic so tightly that every wrinkle and skin fold waxed unreal with shiny detail.
If we hadn’t lived in a rural area, albeit semi-urbanised, I guess it would have been pretty weird. But the mostly farming-stock locals only found his extra enthusiasm a little bit odd.
When he wasn’t being a bit embarrassing talking about it, I never really paid much heed to his hobby. I had a child’s vaguely grateful awareness that though our family went through some lean financial times, our stomachs never suffered like some of the families around us. All the beef, pork, ham and bacon in those big old chest freezers passed down from his dad really could have fed us for years.
I should preface all this by saying that I wasn’t a particularly bright kid, though neither was I dumb. I didn’t fail badly at anything in school, I just never achieved beyond a pass. I didn’t know it yet back then, still quietly dreaming about being a ballet star or a dressage champion, but mediocrity was my destiny. And I think that’s why I got on so well with my Aunt Liz.
Liz was my dad’s live-in youngest sister. She was one of those women who get described as ‘bubbly’ — not really pretty, not really smart, not a lot going on besides just being… well, all Liz. But she was salt of the earth; kind, caring, and great with kids. She was the only person who would willingly mind my two older brothers, who fought like hellcats and caused more trouble than the whole last generation of my family combined. People would privately lament to my parents that it was a shame Liz didn’t have kids of her own, but dad would just shake his head and say Liz liked it that way – that all the fun of looking after kids is being able to give them back to their parents.
I guess she was like me; nice, but mediocre. Lovely, but somehow forgettable when she wasn’t doing something for you.
But when Liz left us, I couldn’t forget her.
In hindsight, it was pretty weird timing that we had a big fortieth birthday party for Liz right before she disappeared. She was radiant that night; she’d hired a local girl to do her hair and makeup, and it was honestly the first time I’d ever seen her look pretty. She’d even worn a push-up bra under a tight red dress, which flattered her very plump curves well enough that the neighbour’s farmhand was spotted disappearing into the woolshed with her for a snog. In my dawning awareness, that gave a plain girl hope: if Aunty Liz could get a guy at forty, maybe things would turn out okay for me.
Anyway, I couldn’t forget how her pink cheeks, her eyes, her whole self, glowed that night before Liz went to bed. She said it was the best birthday ever, and that she was very much looking forward to the next stage of her life.
Would I have done anything different, if I had known? If I had realised what, exactly, that next stage was?
The week after the party, Aunt Liz said she was going on a little holiday up north, to visit some old school friends. She packed her things – she didn’t honestly have that many – and drove her little orange mini out onto the main road. And with a wave of one fleshy hand, she was gone. Nobody really thought much of it when she didn’t call, because nobody rural had cellphones back then. And Liz was, as I said, somehow kinda forgettable when she wasn’t right in front of you.
When we hadn’t had contact for six weeks, Dad tracked down the land line numbers for their old school buddies. They were surprised to hear from him — Liz had never arrived, so they had just assumed she’d cancelled her visit. No-one had thought to check. I eavesdropped on the conversation, and it sounded for all the world like *they* had forgotten about Aunt Liz, too.
From there it became a missing person case. The local cops came and talked to all of us; the farmhand who’d been seen snogging her was briefly detained, then let go, dad got grilled at length, even my hellion brothers were questioned thoroughly to see if this was one of their wild and dangerous pranks gone wrong.
But everything was a dead end. Nobody knew where Liz was, or what had happened to her.
The remains of her old mini were found halfway across the country, burned out on a beach, on a derelict stretch of ragged, rocky coastline. The police assumed murder and combed the area for remains. But even the most expert divers couldn’t conquer the incredible undertow and fast-shifting seabed of that coastline to look for evidence, so none was forthcoming.
Eventually the cops collectively shrugged and said that there was really nothing more they could do unless more information suddenly came to light. The locals knew nothing, no witnesses had come forward, and the trail was cold. As far as anyone knew, poor aunt Liz had been murdered on some desolate beach, far away from her home.
It didn’t feel fair to me. She’d once mentioned wanting her remains buried on our farm, in the graveyard plot beside grandma and grandad.
So, in my grief, I went into her room to look for something of hers to bury beside them.
Like I said, Liz didn’t have many things. Her room was pretty spartan, and her wardrobe was mostly sensible farm stuff. There was one exception: she, like me, did like to read, and she had a pretty good collection of well-thumbed books. I think it’s the escapism – even the most mediocre girl can lose herself in the plot of some trashy romance novel, imagine there’s still hope of being swept off her feet by that handsome stableboy, his inexplicable yearning for chubby plain girls.
So I set myself the task of going through the books, to find the right one to bury in the graveyard plot.
Most of them were exactly what you’d expect, but some of them were racier than I was used to. I felt various parts of my body flushing and tingling, as I read breathless prose about calloused hands touching the softest flesh of the protagonist. Okay, if I’m honest with myself, I might have got a little *too* invested in my project at that point. But that was also why I persisted going through her entire collection, until I found the ragged paperback from 1970, entitled Tawny Sands. And inside that trashy cardboard romance cover, I discovered not the tale of Tawny Sands, but some carefully hand-cut, stitched-in pages. A handwritten story in my Aunt’s rounded penmanship: Memoirs of a Long Pig.
I read her story twice in a row, utterly gripped.
Aunt Liz was no Stephen King – heck, she wasn’t even the Goosebumps guy – but her story was gripping and compelling, and I couldn’t put it down. Even if I hadn’t known her, I think that would have been true.
The gist of it was that Liz, when she was sixteen, had discovered that our family had a very long history of eating what she described as ‘Long Pork’. It’s an antipodean term, anglicised from the Pacific Islands: human meat.
Like me, young Liz still had some hopes and dreams. In one of her many failed attempts to find a special talent, she’d taken up cooking as a hobby. Naturally, with our family’s overabundance of meat, she’d scoured the freezers in the shed for ingredients: the racks of ribs and stacks of pork chops, butcher-paper wrappings all neatly labelled with the first letter of the name of the animal they came from.
She found familiar meat from Rodney, one of the pigs that had been recently slaughtered, emblazoned with an ‘R’ in her father’s strong, blocky lettering. There were cutlets labelled ‘M’ for Mary, from one of the lambs she’d hand-reared, and ‘F’ for Ferdinand, the steer they’d killed the month before. But she couldn’t explain the many, many curious parcels of meat on one side of the huge freezer, all labelled ‘J’ – at least, not until she took it all out and assembled it as well as she could on the scoured concrete floor of the killing shed. A big, frozen jigsaw puzzle without the box, her best attempt to discover what kind of beast the pieces had come from.
The animal, she quickly realised, was a Long Pig. Her own Aunt Jenny, who had died the month before – just after her fortieth birthday.
Fortunately, or perhaps not, for Liz, her father entered the shed right at that moment and realised his daughter had discovered the family secret. He sat down calmly on the lid of the freezer, and explained to her that this was a long-running family tradition, dating back to at least before his grandfather had been born.
“There are always people in life, Liz,” he’d said, “who won’t really amount to much. They want to be useful, want to be more. They strive and they strive, trying job after job, hobby after hobby, trying to hit on something they’re really good at. Something that makes them special. Those people can waste their whole lives, chasing dreams that never come true. Eventually they die unfulfilled, knowing that all their time has been wasted. That what they leave behind will fade quickly.”
His voice was oddly gentle as he leaned down and patted one of the neatly wrapped cuts of Aunt Jenny, still sitting frozen on the shed floor.
“Your Aunt Jenny was one of those people. So was my Aunt Irene.” He paused to gaze at his daughter, his next words peppered with emphasis. “But you see, my sweet Liz, they did find a purpose in life. They did find a way to be special, and they left this world utterly certain of their gift.” He stood up, stretched his back. “Let me show you.”
Liz waited while my grandad meticulously stacked the meat back into the freezer, all but one J-marked parcel that looked for all the world like a thick venison steak. He took her back to the farmhouse, and reverently unwrapped the deep red, heavily marbled meat to let it thaw. Then he laid it in the family’s ancient, cast-iron pan, basting it with butter and rosemary until a heavenly scent filled the kitchen, and Aunt Liz couldn’t stop her mouth from watering.
“Just try it. Let her show you. You’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.”
Even though she knew it was her aunt, Liz couldn’t stop herself from taking that first bite. There was something transcendent about the smell, overriding her natural revulsion that this was human meat, not one of their farm animals. For the first time, she truly realised it: we’re just another kind of animal. And weren’t her memories of Mary the lamb almost as fond as her memories of Aunt Jenny?
Liz explained then, in her curly handwriting, the explosion of taste that had assaulted her when she tried the steak. It was tender, it was succulent, it was rich beyond imagining. The fats melted on her tongue, lingering somewhere between pork and beef, but oddly neither. The flavour of the meat defied identification; something familiar, yet not.
But one thing she couldn’t deny; it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. Tears dripped onto her plate, mingled with the juice, the grease — not grief, but a pure, real, giddy delight.
“You’re tasting your aunt’s love for this family,” my grandad explained. “Her entire life was carefully curated, to eventually make unforgettable moments for us, just like this. This was her way of being special. This was the greatest gift she could possibly bring to our world – and because she realised that, she died with not a single regret. She knew her life had purpose. She was perfectly, completely fulfilled.”
I felt those words. I felt them lodge in my own belly, settling uncomfortably deep. I knew Aunt Liz, probably better than anyone else in the family. I’d seen how fucking happy she’d been on her fortieth, how goddamn fulfilled she was, despite apparently being a *nobody* and achieving *nothing*. Somehow, in the space of a single day, she had gone from being a forgettable background character to becoming the *main character*, immortalising herself in our family’s history with her sacrifice. Quite literally becoming part of all of us, forever.
I went to the killing shed after I finished with the book. I looked inside the freezers.
But there were no vacuum-sealed packages labelled ‘L’, no matter how deep I dug into the frozen stacks of plastic-wrapped flesh. Panicked now, not sure if I wanted to connect all the dots or unconnect them, I tried to think back over the last few months, recall any meals that had been unusually good. A few Sundays ago, we’d had a stew that really hit the spot and left me craving more. And I realised that the family had a really good night that night; my brothers behaved themselves, my parents didn’t fight, and grandma and grandad had been there. Hadn’t they looked far more… expectant than they should have?
I strained my brain, trying to recall if I’d seen the homekill bag on the kitchen bench – if I’d registered what letter it was. I knew it wasn’t an L. I would have remembered if it was an L.
And then it hit me, the memory, the connection, sizzling as if branded with a hot iron.
It had been an ‘E’.
E for Elizabeth. Not for Edward the pig.
I snorted at my own stupidity – of *course* Liz was short for Elizabeth – and as I comprehended my lack of smarts, I felt something give inside me.
I wasn’t clever, and nothing, nothing would ever make me smart. I had no big talents. I wasn’t beautiful, or even cute – and even if I had a million plastic surgeries, it still wouldn’t fulfill me. It wouldn’t be real.
I was a Liz.
I was a Jenny.
I was whoever the first aunt had been, the aunt who had dedicated her life to making her flesh as delicious as possible, who had worked every damn minute to be the best Long Pig she could ever be.
I wondered how many magical family evenings had been spent eating Aunt Jenny. How many glorious, satisfying, memorable dishes had been made out of her.
And… I wanted that. I wanted to finally know I had a *purpose* in life. One so simple, and so easy to achieve.
I wanted what Aunt Liz had.
***
It's my fortieth birthday today and I’m so fucking excited. For the last twenty-four years, I’ve dedicated myself to this moment; I’ve eaten exactly what I needed to, I’ve exercised just enough, but not too much, to maintain that perfect balance of marbling vs tenderness. I’ve relaxed and meditated to keep all those amazing flavours inside of me. I’ve researched all the greatest meats in the world, from prime Angus beef to A5 Wagyu. I really think I may have outdone myself.
I’m having my hair and makeup done at the local salon this afternoon, and I’m going to look so pretty; all prize piggy on show at the fair. I’m even going to have a big red ribbon in my hair, in memory of Aunt Liz.
Maybe there’ll be a cute boy I can snog in the wool shed, maybe there won’t – I don’t really care; because the most important, most certain thing is that I’m going to be the most delicious Long Pig in the history of our entire family.
I’m going to make everyone so damn happy, and I’m just so glad I can share my story with you all, instead of hiding it in a grubby book like poor Aunt Liz.
My only real disappointment? That you won’t get to taste me.
Reader, I have loved, loved my life. My Long Pork will be out of this world: once tasted, never, ever forgotten.

This fic flows out of me way too easily, so I'm riding the waves while I can. Glad to see people enjoying it too! We continue where we left off, trying to figure out where to go, both with universe at large and with poor, lost child...
As usual, thanks to SpacePaladin15 for his own great work and letting fanfiction flow, and everyone who supported and enjoyed the fic thus far. So, let's see where this goes from now.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Dr. Erin Kuemper, SETI Researcher
Date [standardized human time]: July 15, 2136
Before entering the conference room, I adjusted my dress suit. Even for official meetings, I usually just prefer simpler official outfits, but this time is different. Being invited to observe the first official diplomatic meeting between humanity and aliens, I wanted to be perfect for it, even if it was meeting the baby-eating monster aliens over a video call.
Stepping inside, I see the other people that would be present for it. Normally, as a SETI researcher, I would object to the presence of any military heads at such a meeting, on purely conceptual level, much less two. But with what we have learned I can’t help but almost feel like even entire room filled with generals wouldn’t be enough for this.
“Ah, Dr. Kuemper. Come in, take a seat. We plan to start hailing them in ten minutes.” Secretary-General motions towards one of free seats, so I take the one that’s further away from both generals. As I do though, General Jones starts talking to me.
“So, Dr. Kuemper, how’s our rescue doing? Were there any further incidents?”, she asked.
“No, not yet. She still hasn’t woken up since that last sedation. While we don’t understand nearly enough about her biology yet, drawing some parallels with biology of Earth life we can infer that while her life is no longer threatened, she will likely take a while to fully recover from blood loss and malnutrition. Much bigger problem will be communicating our intentions to her, as well as regaining her trust after... everything.”
“Is it really smart to assign Noah Williams as one of her main caretakers then?” She asked, raising her eyebrow.
“From analyzing the footage of the incident, she reacted the same way to all the humans in the room. I doubt it was Williams’ specific appearance that was the source of such intense fright. And that assignment is not just for the sake of the alien, but Williams himself. Him and Rosario are both, frankly, on suicide watch right now. They need a chance to try and do something to relieve their guilt.”
To that General Jones just hummed, before turning to the screen. I could also hear General Zhao, the Chinese general, snorting in amusement. I am not sure what he found funny about this, but I’d rather not know at all.
It wasn’t a rational call, I knew it, but if there’s anyone who can project most empathy possible towards our alien rescue, it’d be Noah. I have asked Sara if she wished to participate as well, but she struggles to even look at the child without throwing up, so for her, distancing might be for the best.
“We’re beginning to hail the Arxur Dominion now.” Secretary-General announced, standing in front of the screen, facing it. “Not sure how long it will take.”
“I bet time zones get a ton more complicated on interstellar level...” General Zhao grumbled.
Afterwards, there were long twenty minutes of silence, interrupted by an occasional cough or shuffle before finally screen shifted, and displayed the aliens. It appears they also were in a private conference room, like us. In the middle, standing tallest and looking at us was none other than Chief Hunter Isif from photos the Odyssey crew took. Behind him were two more arxur. One was similar to Isif in build and stature, though not quite as tall, and the other was notably shorter and scrawnier, with lighter scale coloration. Part of me almost assumed that was a female, before I remembered that in the data dump there were no signs of easily notable sexual dimorphism among the arxur. An adolescent then, perhaps?
“Humans. I am glad you responded to our invitation. I believe an introduction is in order. I am Chief Hunter Isif of Arxur Dominion.” The alien spoke, translators working already, translating the noises unlike anything human makes into discernable speech.
“Greetings, Chief Hunter Isif. I am Secretary-General Elias Meier. I represent the United Nations, or UN for short, a governing body meant to represent combined interests of all individual nations of Earth. Before we proceed, I need to ask. Will I not be speaking to your leader, Prophet-Descendant, today?”
That was on the agenda for the meeting, if I remembered correctly. Trying to interact with arxur other than Isif. To gauge just how far this goes. Though it doesn’t seem like it’s happening, considering Isif is the one who picked up and how now he was emitting a low hiss that almost felt like it was carrying amusement.
“No. No offense meant to you, humans, but we Chief Hunters are expected to conduct all business in our sectors on our own. You technically fall within my territory. Plus, why would I give up an advantage I have over other Chief Hunters so easily? We may not ever have war against one another, but the competition is fierce, and you might just be the edge I need to curry more favor.”
I noticed General Zhao scoffing at shameless honesty in arxur’s intentions for this ‘alliance’ they proposed in the databanks. Yeah, just use us to gain more advantage over his rivals. I can’t believe Secretary-General elected to deal with them after all.
“I see. I expected that. Still, even if we were granted an audience, our answer would have remained unchanged. Sorry to disappoint, Chief Hunter, but humanity simply cannot afford a full alliance with the Dominion.” Secretary-General spoke in neutral tone, but I could sense the strain in his voice.
The arxur on the screen had his facial features harden.
“I see. You’re still unconvinced of the prey’s threat to your unprepared world. You believe you may parlay with them.”
“Quite the contrary, we’re more than convinced and have no reason to believe you’re lying. However, while an alliance with you would grant us protection... It would also drag us into the war we wish no part of. We’re... grateful to you for showing hospitality to the crew of Odyssey, and for warning us of the threat, but we will not be diving into war we have no interest fighting.”
“You will not be able to hide forever.” Isif kept insisting, seemingly almost growing agitated. “We knew of you because they did, long before us. They may believe you dead, but all it’d take is one stray vessel for you to be doomed.”
Part of me wanted to be relieved that, despite the tense tone, the negotiations so far were going exactly as planned. Another part of me wept that we were intentionally alienating and putting distance between ourselves and the aliens. And a third part of me was disgusted at the fact that we were talking to them at all.
“Trust us, Chief Hunter, we do not plan to merely sit and wait to be discovered and exterminated. We will be preparing. We simply don’t wish to enter the fight without a good reason.” Elias continued, pushing on to the next topic. “That said, just because we don’t wish for alliance, doesn’t mean we can’t mutually benefit from one another still.”
I could see that the shorter arxur behind Isif was about to speak up, but flinched when the larger one glared at them. Isif himself narrowed his eyes at Elias.
“And what benefit do you see that isn’t us joining hands in battle for survival, Elias Meier?”
I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel Secretary-General smiling at Chief Hunter.
“Trade. Your people are, by your own admission, starving. We could provide a solution. What we lack, however, is information. In this universe, we’re blind, and just sending out probes risks discovery. If you’d be willing to supply us with intel on Federation, we’d be more than glad to relieve your hunger. Maybe not the whole Dominion... But definitely all of your sector’s arxur.”
Arxur behind Isif both slightly opened their mouths, eyes widening in almost human-like expression. Even Isif seemed to be taken slightly aback, though he composed himself much quicker, glaring at his subordinates to make them collect themselves. On our end, I could see General Zhao smirking, and General Jones tapping at her chin in contemplation, while I twiddled my thumbs nervously, waiting for rug to be pulled from under us.
“You promise a lot. Producing food in such quantities with just one planet, even if it were filled with cattle, is impossible. Simply unsustainable.” Isif replied.
“We have our ways, Isif. We solved hunger once, we can do so again. Not immediately, it will take time to ramp up production, of course... But once that happens, all you need to do is name your price in how much meat you need and we will provide. And all we want in return is information to better defend ourselves.”
There was a long pause of contemplation. When looking closely, I could see something that was either agitation... or excitement among Isif’s posse, but Chief Hunter himself remained unimpressed. Eventually he did speak up.
“Don’t think I will fall for such a trick, Elias Meier. You humans are still young, still naive to the cruelty of the universe. We were once like you, and were nearly wiped out for it. I will not have it happen to the only other True Sapient in the galaxy. I will trade information. But I can already sense what the first request will be, and you will not be getting translations for Federation languages.”
That made every human in the room except Elias tense up. I almost flinched at the accusation, Jones hid her mouth behind her hand and Zhao’s smirk turned into a frown. Only Secretary-General remained unshaken. Isif, in meantime, continued speaking.
“If you prove yourself capable of helping us, and manage to provide as much sustenance as you claim you can... I will consider it. But until then, I will not be accelerating your desire to commit extinction by Federation’s hands.”
“Then, if you need to benefit from us first before putting us at risk, we can only thank you again for your concern, Chief Hunter.” Secretary-General replied. I was surprised at how collected he remained despite the arxur completely seeing through our intentions with this ‘trade deal’. “Trust us, we have no interest in getting annihilated in antimatter fire, but we are willing to work to earn your trust. We will be sending lists of information we desire. I hope that partnership can strengthen the bonds between us further.”
“Indeed. We will review and return to you the amounts of food we will require for it. Show us what you are capable of, humans. Now let’s get this over with. Conversing like that is... tiring.”
Right. Arxur are naturally solitary, according to the databank they gave us. A species of biologically predisposed introverts...
“Farewell, Chief Hunter Isif.” Meier replied curtly, before the screen dimmed and camera light disappeared. Contact was over.
I let out a deep sigh of relief, realizing I’ve been holding it in for a while now. There... was a lot to consider about what just happened. I was told footage would be saved, so we can better analyze the arxur nonverbal cues later.
Elias turned to us and put his hands on the table.
“So, that didn’t go as bad as it could have. Any thoughts?”
General Zhao was first to speak up.
“We’ll need information on Federation tactics and weaponry. We’ll have to prepare a strong l space military regardless of whether they can be talked down, but it’s much easier to convince someone not to kill you when doing so risks their own life.”
“I’m more interested in whether there is any technology that could allow us to send spy drones into Federation space without leaving obvious trail back to us.” General Jones countered. “We might not even need arxur translators if we can decode the language via our own surveillance.”
Elias turned his eyes on me expectantly. I considered everything that happened, things Isif said and ways his presumably-lieutenants reacted to conversation, things we learned from their data bank... And it dawned on me.
“They... see us the same way we have seen them before learning of their horrid acts. First contact with someone who treats you like a person, and first people in the galaxy whom you can see as friends. We sought the stars seeking to not be alone in the universe, and while their ways are repulsive to us... It’s not true the other way. This cooperation to them is much more sentimental than it is to us. They want to be able to trust us and rely on us.”
Elias smiled and nodded at my assessment.
“Thank you for your input, everyone. We have a lot of work ahead of us. Dr. Kuemper, I hope you’re ready for tomorrow’s announcement and your promotion?”
Right. Tomorrow we’re revealing that First Contact has occurred to the public. It took a lot of effort to make it presentable without triggering mass panic, and some details will be omitted. That and I’m receiving a new position in the UN related to handling alien affairs. What a joy...
“As ready as I can be.”
“Then let’s get to it. It won’t be easy, people, but our entire civilization is at stake. We need to get this right, and in a way that won’t have our descendants condemning us.”
Right. Cooperation with arxur, this trade... I didn’t like the idea of it, but I understood. We needed their help. Perhaps through this cooperation, rather than them influencing us, reverse can be made true, unlikely as it may seem. Worst part was failing to secure any translators at all. While I’m sure generals are salivating at idea of cyber-espionage against the Federation, I just wanted to be able to communicate with the rescued child, and make sure we could properly help her recover. Still... We will do our best, even without them.
Memory Transcription Subject: Stynek, Venlil Test Subject
Date [standardized human time]: July 15, 2136
Second time I woke up; the memories came to me much faster. How I was captured during the raid. How I spent months in cattle pens. How I was used as a meal for mystery predators. How they took me with them. And how I was now in their laboratory, or whatever closest thing predators have in their feral science.
Of course, my first instinct was to try and escape, but I couldn’t. I found myself actively strapped to the bed. I was panicked at first, trying to break through the restraints, but to no effect. So I let my head fall back onto surprisingly soft pillow and lay there... Awaiting my fate. But fate wasn’t coming, and I found myself getting a bit bored. So I raised my head and examined the room.
It seemed different from the room I was in before. Most of the machinery was gone, and the only big machine beside my bed wasn’t actually hooked up to me anymore. There was a large, predator-sized closet in the corner, and two big tables with seats. Of course, there was also bed itself. If not for the fact that I was slated to be butchered on this bed soon, it’d be the most comfortable place I got to lay down on since my capture. As is... It felt like cruel irony. I felt my eyes watering again. Did predators want to taunt me? Give me this sense of near-comfort as one last cruelty?
Subconsciously I tried calling out for mom, but felt my throat burn and ended up coughing instead. I think all the screaming recently wasn’t good for it, and with how dry my mouth was it didn’t help. Looking around I spotted it. A glass of water on a small stand beside the bed! Except it was completely out of reach. I tried shifting my tail under me, to try and extend towards it, but I’d need to have the bed flipped to have the chance at reaching. They probably left it like that intentionally... Letting me feel thirst, see the answer, but not be allowed to take it, all to make me suffer more.
I attempted to shift and wiggle against the restraints some more, when it hit me. It finally hit me that my leg was gone, gone for good. Even if I could somehow miraculously break those restraints... And get out of predator captivity... And make it back home to Venlil Prime... It wouldn’t be the same. I’d never live a normal life. My vision blurred with tears again. Why couldn’t they just end it... Why did... they have to make me suffer more.
Then the door opened and my heartbeat quickened. I realized just what I asked for, and looks like the universe itself wanted to give me that. Through the door stepped a figure... No longer clad in big rubbery suit. They probably realized such deception won’t work on me. But which of predators it was made my blood freeze.
It was the same one again... The dark-colored one that was there in meeting with arxur, and when I first woke up... Why was it always this one showing up over and over? Did all those predators look like that? He was wearing different outfit, maybe it was a different predator? No, it’s too similar, it must just be... assigned to me. My personal warden. Just like the pens had specific wardens assigned to them that were in charge of picking out meals.
This is it then. They must have done everything they wanted to do with me while I was unconscious and now that I was awake to feel it, were ready to finish me off. I closed my eyes, squeezing them tightly shut as the predator approached. I lost count of how many times I was anticipating death recently, but this was it... This must be it, finally, right? Universe can’t be cruel enough to do more to me, can it?
And as I waited for my demise, with held breath I lay. And lay. And waited. Until I realized that by now predator would long be within reach of my throat. I slowly opened my eyes, and blinked a few times to get the tears out. Sight of predator right beside me made me flinch, as it sat down by the bed, looking over me with its hungry, binocular eyes. I could see its mouth, lips quivering in hunger. And yet it did not lunge... Why?! Why can’t they just finish me off already? I felt so exhausted and fatigued by it all...
Predator seemed to lock its horrid eyes with my own eye. The gaze was intense, and I felt frozen. I couldn’t move, not even a muscle, as it just stared at me and I stared back. I felt a tear roll down my face, contributing more to the clump of matted fur, grown stained with so many tears. And that’s when the predator reached its hand for my head. I closed my eyes, recoiling away to the best of my ability. I... I didn’t want it... Please... Why can’t I just wake up back home, why can’t it all just be a nightmare...
I was prepared for its claw to grasp my face, to twist my neck, to scratch at me... But the only thing I felt was a small caress right under my eye, where the tear ran, wiping it off and rubbing at clumped fur, getting bits of dirt out in process. And then it was over. There was no attack. It was just more prolonging of the inevitable. It was so... tiring. I opened my eyes again, to look back at the predator. Really look back in those cruel eyes, to try and understand why the universe would have such evilness exist at all. The binocular gaze was horrible, but no amount of my instinct telling me to flee could help when I had neither the limbs nor freedom to move. So I just looked back. Into those small eyes when they suddenly blinked. And what could only be a tear rolled down the predator’s face. This made me mentally recoil.
How? Did a predator just shed a tear? But that’s... impossible. Only creatures with empathy can cry. That’s the textbook prerequisite for crying! You need to feel things to cry! Predators don’t have that! Arxur don’t have that. We learn that since before school. One of first things parents teach their kids is always the dangers of predators. But this is... Maybe it’s something in the room? Some noxious agent irritating its eyes? Then why can’t I feel it? Is it simply copying me? But why would it do that? Can you even copy something you can’t understand, like feelings? I didn’t understand. Maybe their biology was way more alien? Their skin was naked and had no fur or scales or feathers, maybe their tears are different too? I tried to find any explanation at all, any possible answer to questions swirling in my mind, but nothing made sense. It’s like this one little tear shattered everything I knew about predators. Maybe... They were different somehow? No! That can’t be it. If they were, they wouldn’t... They wouldn’t have been ones to take part in eating me! They wouldn’t deal with arxur! It’s a trick... it must be... But tears are a sign of empathy...
“W-Why...”, I asked in my confusion. My voice came out as ragged and hoarse and I was reminded of how dry my insides felt. I glanced over to the glass at the bedside, still out of reach and now with a predator near it... I stood no chance at reaching it.
Then suddenly, the predator looked over at it as well, and picked it up. I was almost about to cry at the idea that it would drink it in front of me, taunting my thirst further. But it didn’t even bring the glass close to its horrid mouth, instead moving it towards my face. Naturally, I tried pulling back from predator reach, but still restrained, I couldn’t move much. And once the glass was in front of me, predator just tilted it and... left it hovering there.
Was it... offering me a drink? Does that mean the water is poisoned? Why else would it give me some? I didn’t open my mouth, but the predator kept hovering the glass in front of me... Clear liquid inside swishing a bit with unevenness of the movements. Tantalizing... My throat felt drier just looking at it. In the end, base instinct prevailed over reason-based self-preservation. Even if it is poisoned... I was as good as dead in this den of predators, this won’t matter, and at least I’ll die not feeling as dry as a piece of old tree bark. So I let my mouth open and I raised my head as much as I could within the restraints, putting the glass’s rim into my mouth.
That first sip was probably the most heavenly water I’ve ever tasted. It was just normal water, of course, but with how dry I felt, I couldn’t get enough as I started quickly gulping it down. The predator actually helped, tilting the glass, keeping up with how quickly I emptied it. Every gulp was a relief... It was no stale water of arxur pens. It was actually fresh water! But as quickly as it started, the happiness ended, glass fully tilted and empty. I smack my mouth, gathering little bits of moisture gathered on it with my tongue, while the predator moves the glass back onto the counter.
Well, if that had poison in it, I didn’t taste any. And if it was somehow tasteless... It was worth it. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the predator and its actions, so instead I did my best to just ignore it as I savored the feeling of hydration. If I somehow live through this, unlikely though it may be, I will never scorn water again. Though I will probably still prefer some good juice over it...
The predator started moving again, removing the blanket-like sheet that was covering most of my body and reaching to where my restraints connected to the bed itself. It locked its eyes with me again, and this time it at least didn’t cry, but it did start to growl something. It was quiet and subdued, and of course I couldn’t understand any of it, but it didn’t lunge or reach for me directly and didn’t seem any different from earlier. Was it trying to say something?
Then I heard a small click. The light pressure I felt on my arms and chest from the restraints relaxed. Then the predator just tossed the restraint over me, revealing that they released me. I tested it by raising my arms slightly. Why...? Did they plan on taking me somewhere? I could try running but the feeling of lightness, of hollow emptiness where my leg used to be reminded me of how fruitless the endeavor would be, so I just kept laying in bed. The predator’s mouth curved in some wicked expression before they growled out some more of their crude words and got up.
They moved towards the exit, turning around to give me one last creepy staredown before stepping out of the room. And, unsurprisingly, I heard a soft click from the door itself. Right. I was just free to explore my new pen. But even with the freedom granted, I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. The shock of learning that a predator just shed a tear and fed me water was still too much. What is even happening?
It’s all so confusing. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over my head, hiding in the dark. I tried to desperately convince myself to not get my hopes up, to remember what those predators did to me... But somewhere I felt like maybe things here will at least be better than they were in arxur pens. At least there’s that to comfort me. That’s right, they probably just... don’t want me to die yet because they haven’t finished experimenting on me... And the tears were just... I don’t know. It makes no sense! It’s stupid!
I let out a breath and snuggled tighter into the blanket. As long as it was dark and quiet like this, I could at least pretend that I was back home... That everything makes sense... That I am just fine... That I'll be okay...
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Swollen tongue with cold symptoms
28F, 5’8”, 145lbs. Never smoked, no drinking or drugs.
UCTD (treated as lupus) Selective IGM deficiency. daily medications: plaquenil, Keflex, and adderall.
Hi! I’m having a bit of a panic because my frequent common cold has come with a fun new symptom: swollen, sore tongue.
I catch a cold once a month, maybe every 2 months. And it’s always pretty standard. Sore throat, cough, insanely runny nose, high fever, malaise, headache. Dayquill and 2 days off takes care of me.
I started getting my normal symptoms yesterday morning, and by last night it was full blown. This morning however, I noticed my tongue doesn’t fit in my teeth anymore. Ive trained myself to rest my tongue in my lower jaw because I have an overbite and I don’t want to make it worse. But today my tongue doesn’t fit in either my upper or lower jaw. Also, the sides are very sore, like when you eat too much sour candy. It isn’t causing any difficulty breathing but i literally can’t close my teeth and it’s exacerbated my sore, dry throat.
I’ve been taking dayquill and added in naproxen when the fever stopped declining (highest has been 103.1 and won’t go lower than 101) I took a Zyrtec when it was suggested by the minute clinic that the tongue thing could be an unrelated allergy; but it hasn’t gotten any better.
I tested negative for strep, flu, and Covid.
I had an uncomplicated wisdom tooth removal 4 days ago; and have had no pain, swelling, bleeding, or sign of infection since. But I wanted to add in case that’s relevant.

For years my partner has been stealing my Adderall prescription and just directly lying to my face about it.
I've caught them multiple times and for as long as i can remember its been to the point where when I am able to get a prescription, I just start having to hide it around the house. In my model kits, hidden behind the dresser, inside of my allergy pill bottle in a random backpack, hidden inside of an empty makeup container in the corner of a closet, a fucking dead space in the wall I accidentally discovered. Doesn't matter where its hidden, it will be found and 90+% stolen within a day or two.
I've bought fingerprint safes multiple times. Ive screamed. Ive cried. Ive threatened (emptily). Ive tried to explain to them that stealing this because you want to lose weight by doing nothing after eating an entire bag of brownie brittle the night before is not a valid reason to harm my ability to perform my job.
Ive tried giving them some of my prescription, even half of it a month but its not enough. They need all of it and then just lie to my face like im a fucking idiot. We're the only ones that live in this home and they are a literal recluse aside from going to work once in a while. Who the fuck else stole it? The dog???
Ive spent literal years trying to get them to see a doctor to get their own prescription and nothing I do gets them to do it. It doesnt matter even if I make the appointments they wont go.
Im just done with it and being treated like im an idiot. I dont feel anything about it anymore but regretting wasting so much time with someone so fucking selfish. I wish this was the only thing I was upset about them with, but its just the cherry on the disappointment sunday.
I cant wait till I am in a position to tell them to leave and never come back and start living my life again.

Blood tests appear fine, but I can't get my guardians to set me up with a primary care provider. Symptoms include constant chills to the point of not being able to walk, constant stomach pain, dropping and breaking things almost 24/7, and tripping to the point where I can barely get up out of bed and walk without being in pain from muscle weakness anymore. I take sleeping meds along with anxiety pills, but I don't know if they're enough anymore. . . . . . . . . . . . .
I've had labels thrown at me ranging from bipolar like my mother from a licensed psychologist to a schizophrenic who thinks they have ghosts in their bones by EMTs. They constantly ask how much caffeine I drink even though I only drink one cup a day (ranges in size). I would switch over to decaf in a heartbeat, but it's no longer sold on store shelves where I live and I'm stuck with what's available. I've tried to cut back on soda/kool-aid/etc. and mostly drink cold water from their dispenser to save money. I usually go for a sprite when I'm out at a restaurant. All my blood tests come back fine aside from Vitamin D and my stool looks completely normal. I do have the rounded gels for vitamin D, but I forget to take them.
I left my phone at therapy on accident so using this time to see if I can make sense of the outside world, but all it really does so far is prove the point of why I'm addicted to my phone in the first place. While everyone else aimlessly scrolls through TikTok, browsing actual social media like Twitter and Reddit is the only way to connect with the outside world in a small rural town with next to nothing but a trashed up Dollar General. I feel hopeless when it comes to everyday civil rights issues taking place around the world while I'm stuck with old boomers who pray for our demise.
It's not safe to get an apartment where I live because of all the drugged up deadbeats banging on people's windows and helping themselves to everyone else's spaces while the cops do nothing. I've also had all kinds of people come up to me and fantasize about wanting to kill my pets in front of me, so that's another thing I have to worry about as well. There's even been issues with people pulling out knives on each other, so even though I've bought pepper spray for myself I dont think it's enough to protect my entire living space from being pillaged. It might injure my pet if the perpetrator decides to aim for my pet first and I can't spray them in time.
Steel padlocks don't mean jack fucking shit when people can pick up a screwdriver from somewhere and unscrew the hinges off the door while I'm gone just like my sister's kids did to me growing up. Security cameras don't mean much either if all the meth heads are just gonna come back and rip through all the replacements without any consequences from the police whatsoever. Not only is it unsanitary and unsafe, but I wouldn't be able to find clothes that fit me without traveling out of state either. I would like to start walking again, but I'm scared of falling in the middle of a busy highway or tumbling into a ditch somewhere. Even then it wouldn't matter how much weight I lose due to cup size being controlled by horomones. The only reason I'm so concerned about my heart is because my mother's side of the family has heart issues really bad.
I do go to group therapy (CBT), but they've practically given up on the "mental health" aspect because it triggers all the other clients into not wanting to come anymore, with some being in even worse conditions than I am (CSA, domestic violence, etc). Whenever we try to provide reasonable explainations on how coping mechanisms can trigger volatile reactions out of other family members, we're constantly being invalidated and told that we're just choosing to be miserable. Everyone is always a stuck up about how family is so important and how we need to "love" them from a distance. However, I can't just go anywhere else for therapy because the only other psychologists they have for miles (ones at the facility) will literally raise their voice and scream at residents in front of everyone else if they don't get their way. I can't go to the other group therapy that the residents because some of them reek so bad to the point of giving me flashbacks of my parents' roach infested hoards.
Everyone gets onto my ass about leaving things on the table when I go use the restroom, but the truth is that I'm already tired of having my all shit stolen since I was 10 while everyone in my life sat around and told me to quit crying and bitching about everything. I do try to watch other residents and keep my personal items within arms reach, but I can't keep up when I can barely exit my bed and walk down the fucking halls just to eat. That's all on top of my parents consisting of three different hoarders and losing track of everything I bring over there (not to mention all the roaches, mice, and animal waste all over the floor).
I've gotten a lot more freedom since moving away from the cult, but everything I did to cope has practically gone out the fucking window due to thieves and lack of internet (they won't fix the damn router bc they dont know anything about tech). I used to have a Bluey box full of different characters from the show (ordered online ofc), but everything's so filthy that I can't really bring anything out besides toys or stuffed animals. I have an entire tote of books I've never even touched because the place is way too nasty to have them out and risk them getting ruined.
Whenever my belongings do go missing, I'm told to just suck it up and forget about it. I'm scared to fucking death end up with holes in them from being burnt or get mixed up with other women's clothes and get caught being worn them when they supposedly "know better" according to staff. I had a female resident at the religious group home scream and cry to the point that my entire fucking body weight against the damn door wasn't enough to stop her from barging into my bedroom and harass me for shit (that's after all the BS with my sister's kids for over a decade), so I'm not even gonna try to talk to anyone directly anymore.
If I told anyone in my family about my concerns, they would just get pissed and ramble on about how it's my choice to be there, how I need to stop bitching about everything not going my way, and that I should've just stayed at the religious group home. Therapists keep acting like it's all my fault in regards to my emotions, that I just need to work on myself and tell me there's nothing else they can do. Nothing fucking matters when everything on my broken ass tablet requires internet and my consoles are broken. Hell, I'd be having a blast with my 2DS XL if the thing didn't fall apart within the first month. All I really wanted it for was to emulate old PC games and hook it up to the TV. I figured that if I had all my games on one device with the bare minimum accessories needed to make it function, I wouldn't have to feel like a damn hoarder anymore.
I love the tiny library of games I have on my Wii, but my remote is absolutely dirty as fuck with roach poop and other crud. There's no way to clean it without literally soaking it in something. The console itself has all kinds of encrusted gunk on the side from where my hoarder father attached velcro to the side of it. Constant chills makes it practically impossible to sit up and play the games as well (I'm lucky just to be able to stand up anymore). My library is small enough that I'm willing to fuck around with gyroscopic controls for fun. It's not even the biggest priority to me anyway because there would be so many other games to play in the mean time.
I figured with the Steamdeck I could could prop it up against the bed or set it on a table use a controller with it if I reach a point to where I can't see the TV screen from my bed. I can't apply for a job at Walmart to pay for the thing myself because of my balance issues causing me to fall and the inability to grip anything (which would result in massive damages to inventory). I'm also worried about them taking all my earnings since my SSI check isn't enough to cover rent and I need state supplement. I thought about selling my art on Redbubble and save up that way, but my 2022 Samsung tablet that I got a few months ago glitches out when I try to draw stuff and crashes whenever I try to play certain games.
I can honestly forget about recieving one for Christmas/birthdays because for whatever reason, everyone has to have their way when it comes to gift giving and god fucking forbid you try to establish the most basic of boundaries or else you're nothing a spoiled bitch. It's one thing for the Steamdeck to be out of budget, and it's another to deliberately go against a person's wishes when it comes to simple shit like candy or soda when they obviously fucking know better. It doesn't help that everyone goes apeshit over the concept of making a "wishlist" like their life depends on it, only to hand me a sack full of random shit from the Dollar Tree and call it a day. It's also impossible to give it all away when nobody else wants it (I don't have transportation to Goodwill) and throwing away new items is a trigger for me.
I know the Steamdeck wouldn't really fix anything outside of the clutter issue and I probably shouldnt be getting one with my current impairments, but it would provide me with something to do outside of being on social media 24/7. Given the total squalor I grew up in as a child, I'd be genuinely happy with a lot of things outside of the Steamdeck if it weren't for my living situation literally preventing me from doing so:
_ toys
_ art
_ exercise bike
_ walking outside

• playing games on the 2DS again

All of these "coping" mechanisms would come back to me if I were able to move to a different area in my own setting where I don't have to constantly worry about pest infestations from the neighbors, getting evicted for no reason, and random strangers trying to kill me or my pets. I've looked everywhere for supported independence programs and absolutely all of them require a medical waiver with a waiting list of up to 10 years. I absolutely need these services for my own safety as a neglected autistic person to ensure that people aren't just gonna come out of the woodworks and try to assault me on my own property. If I move to a more stable area, I could finally get a decent job without having to worry about coworkers coming up to me and taking shit out of my hands for not knowing any better. I could finally have stuff to do outside of technology and be comfortable with my own surroundings.
Even if all of this is just anxiety, I'm still fucked over when in it comes to actual health issues like gingivitis (as confirmed by Aspen Dental) and getting my wisdom teeth removed due to the lack of a primary care physician. I've done everything I can to and they just won't do anything to get me in to see a doctor. I try to brush my teeth when I can but hurts too much to do so. I also feel overwhelmed with trying to organize everything as I keep getting way more brushes than I possibly need and people will not take no for an answer. I don't even know how to prepare for death anymore as I don't even have loved ones. The only people I've ever been given true contact with are my hoarder parents and mentally unstable sister and that's it; no friends or anything.
There's nothing I can really do to repeal the guardianship without taking everyone to court, which is impossible with my sister's busy schedule and unwillingness to work with anybody else. I only because it gives me something to do finally outside of being locked up all week until I go to a half-assed therapy session for three hours. However, they usually go straight home and aren't really willing to go anywhere that costs money aside from restaurants since we have next to no food at the house (even then it becomes unsafe to eat due to all the roaches and mice).
The bane of her existence is to scream about how much of a lazy ass I am despite turning my parents basement into a hoarded up shithole that's flooded out with animal waste to the point of attracting mice. I know her issues aren't my problem, but back in the day she'd come up behind me and pinch my sides to aggrivate me. She also threw pants/shoes/etc. at me while I was on the bed and even shoved me out of the way after accusing me of hiding something I wasn't supposed to have in the kitchen drawer (I was a legal adult at the time). I usually lay flat in bed to avoid confrontation, but ignoring her makes her volatile so I'm screwed either way. I'm pretty sure she's beating and starving her dogs as well, but nobody really gives a fuck. I've got too many of my own issues to even try worrying about them. She's known to be a neurotin junkie for years since moving in with my parents and was even caught smuggling Adderall at work while the cops didn't give a fuck and turned her loose the next day.
I would've called the cops only if there was another child still in the house, but can't do so otherwise because of the risk of charges being brought against me for slander and libel (APS labeled the case as unsubstantiated). I can't just go around risking all my freedom and housing over sick animals that would more than likely be euthanized anyway. Not that animal control would do anything to begin with, of course. I know it feels redundant to even go over there every weekend in those conditions, but I'm tired of being cooped up all day. I'm tired of not having access to a PC with internet and not being able to breathe due to all the secondhand smoke.
I have finally have regular access to food and meds at the facility, but I'm bored with nothing that makes me feel comfortable anymore. I used to walk around town because of my issues with knocking stuff off tables, bumping into everything, and tripping all the time. I used to play games on my tablet to get through the day, but the internet no longer works since switching it over to a new name and the staffare too lazy to just reset the router (everything is infested with ads). We do have bingo during the week, but most people only play for cigarettes and that's it. I can't hold any kind of conversation with anyone else because they'll just ramble on and on about random shit that happened thirty years ago. I used to play Fortnite and Warframe on my Switch Lite, but it broke after I dropped it and we don't have repair shops where I live. It would only hold charge from 45 minutes to an hour with half the games being broken anyway, so I don't even know if it's even worth saving at this point.
I can barely make use of group therapy (CBT) because of how cold I am and how much my stomach hurts. I try to sit outside when I'm not cold as there's nothing to really do around town anyway, but it's nothing more than cigarette butts and spit everywhere (along with rotten food that attracts flies). There's nothing the staff can really do to make the residents pick up after themselves and they can't ban smoking (even if other residents have health issues) because it's the only reason why anyone gets out of bed. The people where I live don't really believe in PTSD outside of veterans, let alone C-PTSD. The mere concept of it would go against everyone's idea that "family is everything, even if they do things we don't like". We barely have mental health services as it is so I'm basically screwed into staying where I'm at even though I live in fear of being punished. I'll see what I can do to get the medicine lady to up the hydroxozine a bit, but I don't know what else there is to even do beyond that point aside from huddling in bed and freezing 24/7 for the next decade until I'm approved for the waiver.

Good Evening Everyone!
I started taking adderall extended release a few months back (started on 10 mg ER and now 15 ER). When I first started I didn’t notice any decrease in appetite, or at least I didn’t think I did. I’m still hungry for lunch and usually eat everything I pack. However I’ve noticed a severe decrease in appetite for dinner, honestly a lot of times food just sounds really gross. I feel like I always heard people would have trouble eating lunch but i was wondering if having your appetite suppressed as the meds were wearing off was normal or if this is unrelated. Thanks everyone :)

Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))
At the Beginning
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Nobility Arc - Arc 5
Previously on Leveling up the World...
The pain in what was left of Dallion’s legs had decreased to a dull ache. It was by no means pleasant, but not enough to distract him from the upcoming fight.
It was obvious that the archduchess was making a show of force. She didn’t bother using stealth or concealing the numbers of her army. Without any care whatsoever, she had ventured into the domain atop an awakened animal—a warhorse from what Dallion could make out.
Riding an awakened creature? he said to himself. Her new rank came with its privileges. He had to do his best not to disappoint.
Gleam, how are things on your end? he asked, summoning his Nox dagger.
She eats like a cow, the shardfly replied with mild irritation. Other than that, we seem fine. No one’s tried anything so far.
That’ll change soon. Priscord is here. She’s come for me.
I’ll be right there—
No! Dallion ordered. Stay with Aqui. Make sure she levels up as much as possible. I’ll deal with this.
Without bothering to cast an illusion in place of his missing feet, Dallion floated in the direction of Priscord’s army. With many of the buildings removed, the Academy seemed no different than a serene valley. That was just the calm before the storm. Although she hadn’t been present during the ceremony at the imperial city, she had probably heard about everything that had happened. The emperor had been careful to keep everything within the capital separate from everything outside. At the time, Dallion thought that was to guard himself. In fact, it was the opposite—the imperial city was nothing more than a target meant to attract everyone’s attention, while the emperor was elsewhere and his forces were scattered throughout the empire.
It didn’t take long for the countess to become visible in the distance. Wearing a highly expensive dress of diamond thread, she rode side-saddle on the back of a warhorse large enough to be a small building. A handful of domain rulers walked behind, all dressed in light armor of various designs and colors. Their levels were in the high eighties and low nineties—the equivalent of Hannah and Vihrogon. Further behind started a massive army made of fully armored soldiers who had passed the fourth awakening gate. Despite being made entirely of sky silver, the sets of armor were mostly for show. Everyone was aware that such armor would do little against an awakened of Dallion’s level.
​
The TOWN of ISAL is part of your domain.
​
A rectangle flashed in front of Dallion’s eyes. Euryale was doing quite well on the other front. Nearly all of Wetie province had been reclaimed with Dallion’s forces pushing in further north. It would have been nice if he were able to join in, directing his settlements personally. Sadly, facing the archduchess required all of his attention.
Both sides kept on moving towards one another. Once they got half a mile apart, the archduchess raised her hand, indicating her army to stop. Dallion, on his part, kept on floating forward for a few seconds more before doing the same.
“Lost your legs already?” the woman laughed. She was keeping a low voice, knowing that Dallion had the perception trait to hear her. “For someone claiming to be the emperor’s equal, that’s more than a bit disappointing.”
“So nice of you to come here personally to tell me that.” Dallion used his music skill to probe the woman’s defenses. He wasn’t just targeting her, but the horse, and every item guardian on her body.
Two of the domain rulers instantly reacted, taking out harpsiswords of their own. Their chords, although less sophisticated, were adequate enough to interfere with Dallion’s music attack. Preventing the music strands from attaching to their targets.
“So predictable.” The archduchess pretended to take it calmly, but Dallion could tell that she was tense. Likely, the attack had come closer than she felt comfortable. “What will it be next? Spells?”
“You’re in my domain now,” Dallion continued with his attack. Even if he had no chance of succeeding, it was keeping two of her nobles occupied. “What did you think would happen?”
“True, you appear to have the advantage. All the skills, all that raw power, and within your domain, no less.”
The war horse snorted. Dallion could feel its hostility. There was no way this was a natural creature. The magic threads within it were too many, clustered in an artificial order.
“You should have arrived earlier. That way, the mages would have—”
Before Dallion could finish, one of Priscord’s nobles darted forward. The person had changed considerably, but Dallion recognized him from Halburn. Back then, he was a small piece of crap with delusions of grandeur. After the arena fiasco, and the subsequent conquest of the small neighboring country, he had wormed his way into Countess Priscord’s court, remaining there as she rose to power. His skills were still crap, though.
The noble drew a sword and thrust it forward. The blade burst into millions of hair-length tendrils, all of which extended straight at Dallion.
Undoubtedly, it was a peculiar weapon. The magic within it was unlike most of the artifacts Dallion had seen. Among the properties was the ability to drain magic at contact. Clearly, the noble expected that to be enough in his fight against a “battle mage.”
Long before any of the metal tendrils got near, Dallion burst into instances, spreading out in all directions.
The cluster of tendrils followed. While numerous, their actions were far too slow for the threat to be taken seriously. In over a hundred instances, Dallion used his blades to deflect them well before they could do any serious damage. A bit of magic was drained from his aura sword at the points at which it made contact, but by no means enough to cause any serious disruptions.
You’re overconfident, Giaccia said.
Dallion didn’t reply, instead performing a multi attack as his instances pushed towards his opponent. After a series of parries, he followed up with two line attacks, believing that would be enough to slice them up.
While the strength was destructive enough to slice up the ground for miles, all it did was push the tendrils away. Not only were they stronger than he expected, but also incredibly flexible, letting the thread of destruction slide off them on its way forward.
Leaping back, Dallion slashed the air in an attempt to cast a dozen spells, but no magic circles formed. Even the minute disruptions of the magic flow proved enough to render his sword temporarily useless.
Not losing concentration, Dallion loosened his grip, using a finger to cast the spells. This time, everything was as it should be. The magic circles formed, shooting out steel chains that flew straight at the noble.
The speed seemed torturously slow from Dallion’s perspective, but his opponent didn’t even have the time to blink before the first one had wrapped around his sword hand. Based on experience, Dallion expected him to twist in an attempt to break free. The noble didn’t.
Move back! Giaccia warned.
Dallion did so on the second, performing a spiral attack as he did. That failed to snap any of the metal tendrils, but it twisted them in such a way so as to temporarily tangle them in one another, and get them away from him.
More chains wrapped around the noble’s body, followed by a series of crunches. In a matter of seconds, the man went into what appeared to be a series of convulsions, then stopped moving altogether. Interestingly enough, his weapon didn’t.
Before Dallion could clear the distance, the strands reformed the sword, which then darted back only to be caught by another of Priscord’s nobles.
“Bravo,” the woman clapped. “I didn’t expect this. Seems you’ve improved more than people give you credit for.”
Despite the vast difference in level between the two, Dallion felt a cold chill. In a one-on-one battle, there would be no doubt that he’d end up victorious even without using magic. No, that wasn’t the right way to frame it. Right now, he was in a one-on-one against her.
“You’re using symbiont echoes,” he said, splitting in a new set of instances.
“Why should the Azures be the only one using such tricks?” Priscord’s smile widened. “You have to admire the empress. The second empress and your former house used music to get people to do what they wanted. The nymph empress took a far more direct approach, becoming one with her armies. The only mistake she did was limit herself to one target.”
“You’ve been controlling all your nobles,” Dallion said in disgust.
“And they said you were the one thinking outside of the box. I’m controlling all my armies.” Two more nobles drew their weapons: a whip blade and an origami ax. They, too, were more intricate than Dallion had seen in the past. No doubt they were quite deadly as well. “Why ruin such good bodies with such feeble minds?”
“It’s never a good idea to fully rely on echoes. They tend to get opinions of their own.”
“Yes, I heard that as well. But it all depends on the will of the original. It’s said that otherworlders have difficulties in that, but only because they are trying to control something that isn’t them.”
Dallion didn’t respond, using his magic threads to restore the effectiveness of his aura sword.
“Despite everything, you’re not part of this world. How can anyone, even an echo, trust something that isn’t from here? It’s natural that it would form opinions, even if it knows that through your death it would die as well.”
Is it possible she doesn’t know about the emperor? Dallion asked within his realm.
Why would she? Adzorg replied. She’s an archduchess—someone who by definition is too ambitious for her own good. The emperor didn’t share that detail with anyone, myself included. As far as she’s concerned, the glowing puppet on the throne is the real deal. And, of course, it belongs to this world.
Three nobles charged at Dallion with the other two remaining near Priscord to protect her from any future music attacks. That wasn’t by any means all. The large mass that composed her army also charged forward—thousands of awakened, boosted in skill and level to the point that the emperor’s awakening altars would allow. There was no doubt that over three quarters of them would die, yet that didn’t matter. Like ants in a colony, one person was controlling them, the same person that possibly fancies herself a contender in the game of conquest.
As things stood now, she was fully aware she had no chance against the emperor, but once she took down Dallion, new opportunities might present themselves. It didn’t matter whether she lost her entire army, or even all her cities in this fight. As long as she was victorious, there would be at least one power to protect her until she regained the strength to take them on.
Spikes shot out from the ground, as Dallion resorted to domain ruler powers in his defense. Simultaneously, he made a series of line and spiral attacks indiscriminately at the approaching forces.
​
ATTACK NEGATED
Your attack has been sliced in two by IKSIAM.
Attack has no effect.
​
ATTACK NEGATED
Your attack has been sliced in two by VALORR.
Attack has no effect.
​
ATTACK NEGATED
Your attack has been sliced in two by VALORR.
Attack has no effect.
​
ATTACK NEGATED
Your attack has been sliced in two by VALORR.
Attack has no effect.
​
ATTACK NEGATED
Your attack has been sliced in two by HYNDA.
Attack has no effect.
​
Rectangles blinked in front of his eyes. Despite her terrible personality, the archduchess hadn’t risen to her level by accident. She had been taught how to manipulate, control, and be ready for everyone aiming for her spot. While Dallion hadn’t seen her lead armies personally, it was undeniable that she had emerged victorious against Archduke Lanitol, and held her own against the Azures up till now.
Still, she was just one person and, as she had said, part of this world.
Music spark attack, Dallion thought as he slashed the air with his harpsisword.

My doorbell sounded the arrival of a guest, which I wasn’t expecting. My cattle dog Rex leapt up off the couch at the sound, barking a few times and rushing to happily greet whomever it was. It was my day off, and I was still in my pajamas, but I had quickly become friendly with the rest of the crew on my ship, so it wasn’t as if I’d be showing my love for the Ninja Turtles to a stranger. At least I’d brushed my hair when I’d woken up.
“Coming!” I called. I turned the television on mute and got up from the couch, walking to the front door and pressing the button to open it.
Winpilar stood there, his antennae flickering excitedly. “You got a delivery,” he said. “There are pictures of dogs on the box. Is this for Rex?”
“It is!” I said, grinning and taking the box from him. “It’s called a Bark Box. It’s a bunch of treats and toys for him. Since I don’t often get home and human pet stores are few and far between, this was a no-brainer to sign up for when I got this job.”
Rex was a novelty to the others on the ship. Only one of them had interacted regularly with a dog before, which they said was a golden doodle that belonged to a human neighbor back on their home planet. They’d all been wary of Rex’s teeth and claws, of course, but showing them the tricks Rex knew (especially cute ones like ‘beg’) and having them be able to do it themselves with the coaxing of a treat had won them over. Also, Rex was extremely well behaved and well trained, which was the only reason I felt comfortable taking him on this job in the first place. A week later, they all pat Rex when they saw him in the hall, and now you’d think he’d always been a member of the crew.
“Oh, can I give him a treat?” Winpilar asked, following me over to my kitchen counter. Rex’s ears perked up at the word. “His ears twitched! That means he wants a treat.”
I chuckled. “He’s a dog. He always wants anything that qualifies as food. He would eat until he threw up and then eat some more.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, putting the box down. Taking a knife from a drawer, I cut the tape. “That’s why he’s on a schedule for meals. All dogs are. They can actually get obese if you’re not careful, and by not careful, I mean you give in every time your dog looks at you while you’re eating dinner and they have big, cute eyes.”
“That’s dangerous. Rex has big, very cute eyes.”
“He does,” I said with a smile. Taking out one of the bags of treats, I opened it, and Rex’s butt immediately hit the floor, his ears forward, attentive. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Here.” I shook out a few into my hand and gave them to Winpilar, whose antennae flicked back and forth again in happiness.
“Rex- Oh, he’s already sitting. Rex, shake,” Winpilar said, holding out a grasper. Rex did as he was told. “Good dog!” My crew mate handed over the three treats.
I laughed. “Not even a ‘lie down’?” I asked. “You’re a pushover.”
“He just looked really hungry.”
“That’s just his face.”
Going back to the box, I took out one of the toys and when Rex finished eating all three treats, I squeezed it a couple of times, making it squeak. He was suddenly at attention once more.
“What is that?” Winpilar asked.
I handed it to him. “It’s a dog toy. He’s like a little human kid in some respects; novelty is fun, so he gets two new toys in every box.”
“What makes it a dog toy? How does he play with it?”
“Oh, it squeaks, and he absolutely loves squeaky toys,” I replied. “Most dogs do.”
Winpilar froze. “It…squeaks? Like prey?”
“Yeah, look.” I took it back and made it squeak, prompting Rex’s eyes to lock onto it. Then I moved it quickly to the right and then the left, and his eyes and head moved with it, ready to pounce. Squeaking it a couple more times, I then tossed it across the room and Rex tore after it.
“Oh!” Winpilar exclaimed as my dog grabbed it in his jaws.
“Dog owners keep track of toys like this,” I said as Rex repeatedly chomped down on it, making it squeak over and over again. “The squeaker can come out after the dog plays rough with it for a while and deguts it. It can be a choking hazard, but also you don’t want them eating plastic..” Rex rapidly shook his head back and forth and accidentally let it go, prompting me to snort in amusement, then he promptly charged after it, sweeping it up in his mouth again.
“Deguts it?” Winpilar echoed.
I nodded, watching with a smile on my face as he enjoyed his new toy. “There are various things you give to a dog to occupy them, but stuffed animals are often the most fun because the dog can pull the fluff out of it. Luckily he doesn’t go through them too fast. Some dogs, you give them something and no matter how sturdy you think it is, they’ll tear it apart in ten minutes. Those owners usually stick with tug of war toys or bones to chew on.”
Winpilar didn’t reply and I glanced to him, noticing he looked stiff. “Something wrong?”
“I just…I think I sort of forgot that Rex was a carnivore,” Winpilar said, his voice small. “And, you know, everything that that entails.” My crew mate watched as Rex got a good grip on the squeaker and chomped down on it a few times. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that again, though.”
​
***
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My doorbell sounded the arrival of a guest, which I wasn’t expecting. My cattle dog Rex leapt up off the couch at the sound, barking a few times and rushing to happily greet whomever it was. It was my day off, and I was still in my pajamas, but I had quickly become friendly with the rest of the crew on my ship, so it wasn’t as if I’d be showing my love for the Ninja Turtles to a stranger. At least I’d brushed my hair when I’d woken up.
“Coming!” I called. I turned the television on mute and got up from the couch, walking to the front door and pressing the button to open it.
Winpilar stood there, his antennae flickering excitedly. “You got a delivery,” he said. “There are pictures of dogs on the box. Is this for Rex?”
“It is!” I said, grinning and taking the box from him. “It’s called a Bark Box. It’s a bunch of treats and toys for him. Since I don’t often get home and human pet stores are few and far between, this was a no-brainer to sign up for when I got this job.”
Rex was a novelty to the others on the ship. Only one of them had interacted regularly with a dog before, which they said was a golden doodle that belonged to a human neighbor back on their home planet. They’d all been wary of Rex’s teeth and claws, of course, but showing them the tricks Rex knew (especially cute ones like ‘beg’) and having them be able to do it themselves with the coaxing of a treat had won them over. Also, Rex was extremely well behaved and well trained, which was the only reason I felt comfortable taking him on this job in the first place. A week later, they all pat Rex when they saw him in the hall, and now you’d think he’d always been a member of the crew.
“Oh, can I give him a treat?” Winpilar asked, following me over to my kitchen counter. Rex’s ears perked up at the word. “His ears twitched! That means he wants a treat.”
I chuckled. “He’s a dog. He always wants anything that qualifies as food. He would eat until he threw up and then eat some more.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, putting the box down. Taking a knife from a drawer, I cut the tape. “That’s why he’s on a schedule for meals. All dogs are. They can actually get obese if you’re not careful, and by not careful, I mean you give in every time your dog looks at you while you’re eating dinner and they have big, cute eyes.”
“That’s dangerous. Rex has big, very cute eyes.”
“He does,” I said with a smile. Taking out one of the bags of treats, I opened it, and Rex’s butt immediately hit the floor, his ears forward, attentive. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Here.” I shook out a few into my hand and gave them to Winpilar, whose antennae flicked back and forth again in happiness.
“Rex- Oh, he’s already sitting. Rex, shake,” Winpilar said, holding out a grasper. Rex did as he was told. “Good dog!” My crew mate handed over the three treats.
I laughed. “Not even a ‘lie down’?” I asked. “You’re a pushover.”
“He just looked really hungry.”
“That’s just his face.”
Going back to the box, I took out one of the toys and when Rex finished eating all three treats, I squeezed it a couple of times, making it squeak. He was suddenly at attention once more.
“What is that?” Winpilar asked.
I handed it to him. “It’s a dog toy. He’s like a little human kid in some respects; novelty is fun, so he gets two new toys in every box.”
“What makes it a dog toy? How does he play with it?”
“Oh, it squeaks, and he absolutely loves squeaky toys,” I replied. “Most dogs do.”
Winpilar froze. “It…squeaks? Like prey?”
“Yeah, look.” I took it back and made it squeak, prompting Rex’s eyes to lock onto it. Then I moved it quickly to the right and then the left, and his eyes and head moved with it, ready to pounce. Squeaking it a couple more times, I then tossed it across the room and Rex tore after it.
“Oh!” Winpilar exclaimed as my dog grabbed it in his jaws.
“Dog owners keep track of toys like this,” I said as Rex repeatedly chomped down on it, making it squeak over and over again. “The squeaker can come out after the dog plays rough with it for a while and deguts it. It can be a choking hazard, but also you don’t want them eating plastic..” Rex rapidly shook his head back and forth and accidentally let it go, prompting me to snort in amusement, then he promptly charged after it, sweeping it up in his mouth again.
“Deguts it?” Winpilar echoed.
I nodded, watching with a smile on my face as he enjoyed his new toy. “There are various things you give to a dog to occupy them, but stuffed animals are often the most fun because the dog can pull the fluff out of it. Luckily he doesn’t go through them too fast. Some dogs, you give them something and no matter how sturdy you think it is, they’ll tear it apart in ten minutes. Those owners usually stick with tug of war toys or bones to chew on.”
Winpilar didn’t reply and I glanced to him, noticing he looked stiff. “Something wrong?”
“I just…I think I sort of forgot that Rex was a carnivore,” Winpilar said, his voice small. “And, you know, everything that that entails.” My crew mate watched as Rex got a good grip on the squeaker and chomped down on it a few times. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that again, though.”

I spent my years as a little girl trying so hard to be anything else OTHER than "just a little girl" because I was raised in a heavily religious and Latino household where being born a girl basically determined that you'd be forgotten and ignored. Any accomplishments you put in the effort to complete in the hopes of maybe some sort of parental attention was almost always steamrolled over to make room for other sub-par things your brother, uncles, or nephews did.
So I became this little angry girl who studied hard. Up until puberty at 11 quickly beat my spirit to pieces with a wave of depression that wouldn't ever fully go away or recede far enough into the horizon enough for me to get comfortable ever again in my skin without fear of drowning in my own emotions that at that time I simply labeled "useless and stupid."
I was 5 years old when I remember my Dad ripping and cutting these little heart shaped dangly charms off of the hem of a pastel printed dress I really liked. He didn't like that they skimmed my little kid ankles. He called the outfit "whore practice" clothing and made sure I knew only girls "asking for bad attention" wore "outfits like that." I quickly stopped wearing my earrings too as he once yelled at my mom so hard about the size of these tiny hoop earrings she had once put on me. He accused my mom of buying me "adult" earrings so after that she never got me another pair. To make matters worse he abused my mother, oftentimes ruining her dresses and outfits too because he claimed she was "dressing to get another man" so she could leave.
I had to be the strong one, at 7 years old. I would sometimes watch Cardcaptor Sakura (when it aired in English in the U.S., late 90s/early 00's) or Sailor Moon and I would draw pictures of what I imagined I would look like if I had a cool magical dress. These girls got to fight crime while being pretty. Pam Grier could fight crime and look gorgeous, but I had to watch her in secret on my own time. Tarantino really hit me hard with how strong he makes his female leads too. I mean sure yeah weirdo foot stuff, but Uma Thurman is depicted as this angel faced beautiful charming woman but who is dedicated and deadly and can kill if her life is at stake or anyone tries to get in her way. The women in Death Proof totally kicked ass while being pretty at the same time. I had a girl crush on She-Ra and also on Star Fire and Lady Death from the horror comics my uncle would borrow and I'd find, not even realizing how raunchy the art was. The women were strong. The women were fiercely beautiful. They could fight.
My mom would then marry another idiot when I was 10. A conservative raised little mommy's boy shit stain of a man who took joy in picking on literal children for things they could not control. Total narcissist. His mom was a 1950's housewife who had passed away but her control over how he dressed and acted eventually spilled onto me. Why am I in a dress today? which boy am I trying to impress? Nevermind that it's 96 degrees Fahrenheit in a middle school with no A/C, I MUST be wearing a knee length skirt at 12 because OBVIOUSLY a boy told me to wear it so he could touch me.....there was no rational thinking. I was taught that being even a little feminine or expressing femininity was a definite horrendous declaration of "omgeee please touch me, I'm stupid and want 100 babies!!!" By 14 years old I didn't own a single other skirt or dress except for some black dresses meant for funerals and one white skirt I buried in the back of the closet.
I ate my feelings. I ate and ate and ate and ate because I felt so empty. I was limited from 14 to 17 to only big flared oversized jeans and boys tshirts. My stepfather was a big believer in clearing your plate plus he just loved food. He was over 400 lbs himself, and while my siblings and I didn't go to regular doctors exams we simply just gained weight recklessly as we would be punished for leaving anything behind on our plates while our stepfather would make weekly $300 purchases on more and more and more just food food food. So then, at 14, I just had no idea I would never see 225lbs again until over a decade later. By 16 I was nearing 300 lbs and wanted to die. I was watching other more normal healthy weighted girls grow into beautiful women all around me. Filling out dresses, wearing cute tops, actually being able to purchase clothing they liked with no worries. I'll never forget shopping for the dress I wore for my Senior Yearbook photos. My mom planned a "girls day out" for us to go and find a dress at a mall. I was ecstatic. I asked my mother maybe 15 times if she was SURE and CERTAIN we were going to get me a dress. The literal DAY OF the trip my stepfather had a "change of heart" and insisted the entire family go to the mall together. I found a dress. Bright Teal/Blue. Checker patterned. It had a wide rounded scoop neck, a very flowy skater-type skirt, and the Mannequin at the store had the dress paired with red flats and these beautiful blue-bird earrings. I put the dress on and in that instant I just felt so pretty that I almost forgot who I was and out loud asked "are you FUCKING serious?!" when I stepped out of the fitting room with it on and my stepdad just kept loudly snorting and laughing at me. He made me put that beautiful dress back and honestly my heart was so broken that even 7 years ago when I was 25 I was still actively looking for it on Mercari and at other Plus Size secondhand clothing sites. I ended up wearing this absolutely hideous brown and beige old woman slip style wrap dress with this ugly tacky red border. I looked like someone's secretary job having mom and the dress just further highlighted my lack of actual breasts and lack of a waist. So when Prom rolled around and my stepfather even TRIED suggesting this big shiny pretty pearlescent pink ballgown for me I bit back and DEMANDED all black. I was pissed. I had no date. I let my mom buy the Prom dress out of spite and even afterwards I cut it to pieces just for shits and giggles because I was so angry.
Then one day I actually followed through with my threats and ran away from home. I was free for the first time at 17! I could wear what I wanted!
Except I couldn't because I proceeded to pursue toxic relationships with controlling narcissistic men because of the way I was raised. The first guy insisted that me wearing a dress meant he could just have me be "free use" which I hated back then, I didn't know anything much about sex at all as I was sheltered and constantly grounded for minor shit. I totally just was not ready to be cutting potatoes for breakfast in a nightgown at 5 a.m. just to find myself mid-sex with potato skins still stuck on my hand while I'm trying to get the person to just STOP for like ONE SECOND so I can get on with wtf I was doing. FFs. The second guy decided that me wanting to wear a lot of bright colors meant he could belittle me for "listening to goth music but dressing like a total narc fed", except he would hit me. Like we were once just walking. Literally JUST walking. I was wearing just plain old brown flipflops and ran out of clothes so I threw on my old white skirt. I forgot it had little sequins sewn onto the hems. It started raining so I asked for his jacket so I could cover the skirt so it wouldn't get wet and become see through and he proceeded to slap and punch me "for making stupid decisions" and then belittled the sequins and shit as "little girly" details and decorations that I apparently should have known better than to dare to throw on just to walk to the corner store at 6 in the evening on a summer day. The skirt was ankle length, long as shit. Then I met the third guy who decided that any time I so much as wore anything that wasn't pants, it meant I was cheating. I stuck around in THAT relationship for 6 long grueling years. We didn't sleep in the same bed anymore after the second year as he would belittle me for my weight and lack of femininity, but then anytime I wore a dress it would turn into a fist fight. He would say that me wearing a dress in the house was me feeling guilty for cheating and trying to "look cuter than I normally am" so he wouldn't hurt me. He really messed my brain up. Around that time I was so desperately alone and withdrawn from everyone and everything that I would often spend weeks and weeks with no positive human interaction other than cashiering at my job I hated. I would lie and say I was working just to actually take the bus freely all over the city and I would buy cheap nightgowns from secondhand stores to wear in my room at night while I did college homework. I wasn't allowed to wear makeup with him, I wasn't allowed to wear dresses or anything pretty. Like a sad little child I would time when I knew he had to get online to play his video games and I would use that time to put on a whole face of makeup, shave my legs and wear the nightgowns just to "pretend" I was a very feminine and pretty woman in her own apartment enjoying life. It always made me cry to have to shower afterwards and take the makeup off.
I was 31 and had just been fired from one job while working my first day at a new one. I'm not sure what happened in that instant or maybe if I just had an "oh shit" moment but I just had a strong urge at that moment to just wear a dress again. I had a long week of nonstop dreaming and thinking about my 20s. How sad is it that society tries as hard as it can to make us think that our 20s are supposed to be this MAGICAL time you can NEVER get back? My 20s were so bad I'd literally probably actually toss myself off a bridge if I woke up and realized this was a dream and I'm actually still 22, homeless, dating a total shitbag who hits me, and being too traumatized to just stand up and DO SOMETHING. I also feel like there needs to be more of an understanding that not everyone's 20s are going to be awesome. My mother is a jealous asshole and didn't like that I dated three men in my 20s. She straight up believed it should be one and done since she hated herself for divorcing my Dad but SHE needed to understand that not everyone is just hunky dory OKAY with settling for the first smarmy toad that lands in their pond. I'll never forget her little shit eating grin and face when I brought #4 home and she said "oh sweetie I just hope you one day find someone who can just get your toes to curl." She thought all the break ups were strictly sex related. I asked her and she just steamrolled over it with "well you cant just dump everyone the second they turn you down for sex or ask for more, sometimes you need to be patient!" Like excuse me? Ah yes because as a woman in her 20s it was *impossible* for anyone to think that most of my break ups were about my money being stolen, people not keeping a job, apartments always having "surprise new roommates" that never clean their messes, or straight up abuse. Nope. Both of my parents and most of my relatives apparently assumed any break up between 20-somethings is just "lol, the sex is bad." As if we don't have any sort of character depth to us.
So I guess the point of this is that I am beyond grateful that 31 and 32 coming soon here are bringing me these sudden realizations that I probably should've had in my 20s. Its liberating to wear a damned dress to work and not WORRY about 1478349237498743987 scenarios that can go wrong. Its so much fun to finally fully dive into makeup and what different things do and what they're for. I feel like when I dress up and feel good about myself its truly just for me and it brings me joy. Not even 6 years ago I would have been absolutely panicking about the dresses in my closet I've collected but today I finally wore one outside. Its a skater dress and very flowy and I feel pretty and unafraid. I feel like I can do anything even dressed this way. I feel like this is what being in your 30s is supposed to be. Finally not giving a shit what other people think and accepting that different people feel pretty doing different things. Wearing a dress or dressing up shouldnt make you feel powerless

Thank you to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the NoP-verse and allowing fanfics!
This is a sequel to The Way of the Human!
Prequel startPrequel endFirstPrevious
Memory transcription subject: Thass, Arxur-UN Cooperative Liaison
Date [standardised human time]: 27th of November, 2136
I had decided to leave the camp for the night, still furious at the implication the Zurulian medic had made. To even suggest I would be defective in such a way that I would fall for prey... It sickened me. Barisis was a pet at best, a meal at worst. Agreements with humanity be damned, I would eat her if she also tried to suggest such a thing.
The temporary residence I had chosen was an abandoned home, likely left behind by the prey that once lived there, possibly even killed during the Dominion's short lived hold on this world. The entire building felt cramped for my large frame, but it sufficed. I didn't plan to stay here for long.
Foolishly I hadn't brought any rations with me, meaning that I would go hungry for as long as I was away, assuming I didn't find anything edible out here. While I was far from a stranger to going without a meal for extended periods of time, having once been under the gluttonous Vizz's command, my time with the humans had spoiled me, and now I was starting to get used to always going to sleep on a full stomach.
Abundance can be just as much a curse as it can be a blessing, it turns out. I've almost forgotten what it's like to starve. Maybe it's a good thing that I didn't have good with me. Keeps me from getting pampered.
The home wasn't unpleasant to view, though aesthetics hardly made my hunger any better. Prey were so often focused on form over function. All that was left behind was prey feed, which was inedible to me. The dilapidated bed was comfortable enough, so I doubted I would have trouble sleeping in spite of the gnawing hunger.
But just as I felt ready to try to sleep, or more accurately seethe and stew in my thoughts, I just barely heard the front door open. It seemed some foolish prey had unknowingly stepped into a newly claimed predator's den. Perhaps this was the homeowner, now returning only to find a nasty surprise waiting for them.
By the Prophet, am I hungry. Maybe... just one Harchen civilian won't be missed, will they?
Stealthily I rose from the soft mattress. My drowsiness was gone in a flash, replaced by hunter's instinct. A miniscule part of me felt bad for them, but sometimes fate was just cruel.
Sneaking through the door and into the wider building, I heard the steps approaching my position. I hid in the hallway gap, ready to pounce. As soon as I saw even the slightest bit of movement, the morsel that stepped in here would be dead.
A shadow approached from the side, illuminated through the windows by streetlights. And when they unwittingly closed the gap, I launched myself through the air, triumphant in my catch, and I prepared to bite down on...
"Barisis?"
"Hi..." whimpered the Kolshian. What the fuck was she doing here?! Had she followed me? If so, why? Didn't she understand that I was a killer to be feared!?
She squirmed in my grasp, far more uncomfortable with my jaw around her now than she did earlier today. Fear was in her eyes now. "Um... you gonna let me go?"
I could explain away her disappearance, couldn't I? There are pockets of resistance all over this city, who was to say I'm the one who nabbed her?
But as I looked at her again... Maybe it was a moment of weakness, or a lapse in better judgement. Whatever it was, it made me let her go.
"What the fuck are you doing our here?" I questioned the reckless prey, pulling her up on her two legs with my superior strength.
"Someone needed to go out and find you, and I volunteered," she answered simply. "You can't just fuck off into the city without telling anyone where you're going or how long you'll be."
I snorted in disbelief. "And they let you out here, alone and unarmed, in this highly unsafe city?"
"They did neither," she said, placing a tentacle upon a chest-holster. Doing so made her realise that the gun had flown out when I pounced her, and she grumbled in annoyance before looking around to search for it. "Shit. You're a prick, you know that?"
"You've become incredibly bold, little prey," I commented. "Insulting a superior being and thinking there won't be any consequences."
"Because there are none, you ass," retorted the Kolshian, walking all around the house, trying to find the lost gun. "You're all petals and no pollen."
"What?"
"Aafan term, means you won't follow up on your threats," she explained, a definite cheekiness in her tone.
I couldn't help but chuckle at her behaviour. "You're tempting me to break the trend. And while you've shown you're not defenceless, in theory anyway, you haven't explained how you're not alone."
"We split up, but Hans and Jesper are also looking for you. I'll radio in and tell them I've found you," she said, now kneeling down on the floor, still searching.
She made a noise of accomplishment, indicating that she had found the weapon, but then sighed in disappointment. After the mix of emotions, she tried to reach under a low-to-the-floor piece of furniture which served a purpose unknown to me. Her attempts to reach the weapon had her entire torso on the floor, swiping a tentacle under the tight space. The position she was in resulted in her bottom half-poking up into the air, swaying slightly thanks to her attempts to grab the gun.
I... why do I... like this view? What is this feeling? It's like hunger, but... Maybe it's just because it's been a while since I was this hungry. Yes, it's hunger. The lower part of her is plump, which would make good eating. The lack of food is messing with my head. Yes, that's what's happening. It's just her appetising form that's enticing to my starved mind.
She groaned in frustration, not being able to reach the gun she'd been given. "Help me out here, would you?"
While I wanted to help, I was too enamoured to look away from her form. I was drinking it all in, imagining how her delicious flesh might taste.
"I, ah... Yes, of course," I muttered, grabbing the entire object and moving it somewhere else. The prey doctor had now retrieved her weapon, seeming pleased about it.
Remembering what she said about informing the human command about where I was, I decided to scarf the topic down while it was still bite sized.
"You can tell the humans I'm here if you like," I stated, getting her attention. "But that doesn't mean I'll return."
She sighed, but didn't seem surprised. "I figured you'd say that, actually. That's why I brought this," she gestured at a bag wrapped around her that I hadn't noticed until now.
I failed to see what that had to do about it. "And? What's so important about the bag?"
She opened it, pulling out meat ration cans. She had brought food for me, predicting that I'd decline to return to camp. That was... considerate.
"Uh... Appreciate it," I muttered, grabbing one of the cans and opening it with my claw and quickly wolfing down its contents. Perhaps she had known how hungry I would be, and figured that bringing me food would save her. That was very clever thinking on her part.
Hopefully filling my stomach up a bit will stop my hunger-addled mind from fantasising about eating her.
She then retrieved a communicator from the bag and spoke into it. "Come in Captain, I've found the target. Seems we won't be returning to base tonight."
"What?" Both Hans and I said simultaneously.
"He's refusing to return, so I'm doing to stay with the big idiot and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
There was a moment of silence from the radio before the human responded. "Very well. Good luck with him, Barisis. Call us back in the morning so we know you haven't been chomped on."
I looked at her with great confusion. "Why?"
"I explained it already when I spoke to Hans, which you definitely heard," she sighed, sounding exasperated. "Are you dense?"
"You little-... You think you're so funny don't you?," I hissed, but I was unable to hide my amusement.
I felt an aura of smugness emanate from her as she replied. “You certainly seem to think I am, you big oaf.”
“Get me another can of meat, or I'm taking a chunk of you instead,” I commanded, not wanting to let her feel like she had won.
“Grumpy, grumpy,” Barisis joked as she reached for another ration. “Is the baby hungwy?”
She let out a yelp of surprise as I grabbed her by the torso, holding her up in the air and leaving her face mere [millimeters] from my snout. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
“Yes, okay, okay!” she shouted in panic as she squirmed in my grasp. “Just let me go, you bastard!”
I dropped her to the floor, making her land on all fours, huffing and gasping for air. Apparently I had squeezed a bit too hard when I took her off the ground.
“You're a dick, you fucking know that?” she cursed.
I laughed. “Learn to stop disrespecting me, prey.” She knew what would happen, but still she kept poking me, and now she was upset about the consequences? Such leaf-licker thinking.
“Then be worthy of respect, dammit!” spat the medic. “All you've done is be a massive asshole who threatens to kill anyone who ribs you!”
“Do you forget that my people are of a solitary culture?” I reminded the cocky Kolshian. “All the constant socialisation grinds my patience down to a fine powder. Despite having no obligation toward preykind like yourself, I still allowed you multiple chances to back off on your own.”
She glared at me with pure, unmistakable fury, before hurtling a ration can right into my snout with a surprising amount of force. I roared in pain and grabbed her, pinning her to the wall with one arm more than a [meter] above the ground.
“I should eat you alive for that, I truly should,” I growled, running my tongue across her face, making her shiver. “Do you think any other Arxur would tolerate even a fraction of what you disrespectful little fucker say and insinuate? All of you should be thanking every god, deity, saint and prophet in the Federation that I haven't ripped the lot of you to shreds.”
Barisis whimpered, struggling to speak. “Sh- she was-” she hacked a cough in my face,” -right.”
“Who was? Tell me now and I won't cunting gut you.”
“Hel…” she whispered in pain. “You really do have-” wheeze “-a thing for me.”
I dropped her like she was searing hot, backing away from the mad Kolshian. After what I just did to her, she could say that in seriousness?!
Why won't this accursed appetite leave me? Why do I still want to devour her? I had a filling meal!
“Just fuck off, please,” I half demanded, half pleaded. “You're making my hunger instincts go wild. If you value your own life, you'd leave this entire block.”
She stood up, and walked right up toward me, staring into my eyes like a human would. “No.”
“DO IT!” I roared. “That damn Zurulian is right, I do have a soft spot for you, so fucking leave before I lose control over my instincts… please...”
This admittance to weakness made me nauseous, but it was no lie. In spite of her wretched behaviour and smugness, I’d grown fond of the little Kolshian that had travelled so far from home and nearly got devoured by my former superior.
I should feel ashamed, and yet I don't. I only feel… relief. What the fuck had this creature done to me?
…
FUCKING DAMN IT, I DON'T WANT TO BE WEAK! I DON'T WANT TO EAT HER! I WANT HER TO GO AWAY! I WANT HER TO STAY! ARGH, WHY IS MY MIND SUCH A TERRIBLE MESS?
I was on the floor, doing everything in my power to resist giving in to weakness and bawling. Why had I become so defective? What had gone so wrong? When I came to Earth I was fierce, powerful, strong. Now, on Fahl, I was weak, pathetic and broken. I had become more unworthy than even fucking Vizz.
“Thass…”
Barisis moved towards me with slow, careful steps. Hesitantly, she placed a tentacle on my shoulder. I didn't shy away from it. I couldn't, unless I wanted to look even weaker than I already was and cry my eyes out.
The Kolshian wrapped her other limb around me, holding me in an embrace that I should've found disgusting, but instead craved in a way that did not befit a member of my species. “It's okay, big guy, I'm here. Everything's going to be okay.”
Her head leaned against mine, and I gave in to the weakness. Tears began to flow from my eyes as I remained curled up in a ball, holding my tail tight to my body.
“I'm right here, Thass..”
Why won't that fucking urge to eat her just leave my mind already…?

It was only when I was in the airport, sitting in an open bar, that I came to understand the ancient nature of the land. Being the only other person in the bar, he came to me and asked me what I was doing here – had I enjoyed my stay? And so forth. I can’t exactly remember what all the chit-chat was, but one anecdote stood out to me. Perhaps it was the nature of the story; or the way the story told him rather than he it. His unkempt hair occasionally animated with a flourish every time the automatic fan on our table turned to him; that was the only thing that looked alive when he spoke of what he had seen.
Another humid trek through the jungle, the only thing to keep the brush from closing in was a rusty machete that some cigar-chewing bloke had sold to him ‘at discount’. The air itself seemed opposed to his lungs and he needed to stop regularly to catch his breath (he was not the fittest of men: late forties, fairly overweight), drink a little water from his canteen – though I suspect he was the kind of fellow to hide whiskey in it. Eventually he came to it, hewn into the side of a granite cliff. The locals avoided it; I expect no foreigner had the cachet to pry the reason from their stoic reserve. A cave with an opening of no greater height than two metres and barely wide enough for the man to squeeze through. The tunnel became narrower before it became wider, and in many places, he had to wriggle on a flank like a beached seal. After a while, the warmth and light of the tropic sun ran out, a torch was needed. Thank God, he remarked, that when that little bulb turned on, he found himself in an antechamber – no more crawling for now. But there, resting on that soft floor of sand were bones. Old bones. He declared he was no specialist, whether they were human or beast he was not sure; I certainly wouldn’t have a clue, but then again, I would also know better than to enter a remote, narrow crevasse alone.
Tap, tap, tap. The man began to tap a pen on the table. Echoing was that faint sound: tap, tap. Though the way he made it out it was more like a scuttle. One hears all sorts in caves, from rocks falling after millennia of stillness. Bats startled by a clumsy intruder. Caves are quiet, which is why it seems so unnatural when a natural sound comes suddenly from the darkness. It was as I had suspected, when the man pressed on, past the antechamber, he found a subterranean river passing through a low-cut tunnel. I did ask whether the tapping was the trickle of water. He kept quiet about this and shook his head as though I had asked the impossible – bloody fool. It gets better! The story made me squirm a little at this point: in order to crawl through the narrowest points, he had to turn his head in awkward angles to avoid drowning in half a foot of rushing water. There were still times when the water lapped into his nose, and with the torch in his mouth, he had to snort the water out before he could breathe. I hurried him on, I wanted no more descriptions of that part.
Finally, the cavern widened out, into a chamber no bigger than a sitting room – though at the time it must have seemed like a cathedral. To get his bearings, he carefully scanned the walls and ceilings. It was on the western wall (how had he kept his compass?), it was there that he saw it. A mural, drawn with ochre, charcoal and other pigments unknown. Drawn crudely enough that it seemed to writhe and yet its composition was like that of a dragon of the orient, elegant and fluid. Directly under it, was an altar hewn from limestone, whether it had suffered erosion or if it had been made roughly, he was not sure. On this altar were offerings: gemstones that had lost their glimmer to dust, pots with simple and complex patterns, and skulls – human. Braziers carried centuries old ash that smelt of incense. For me, the man pulled out a pinch of the stuff he’d been carrying for goodness knows how long. I wasn’t interested in old pots and bones of poor bastards made captive in a bygone skirmish. “The mural, the mural!”, it had captured me, miles away through the eyes of another.
Woven through a cosmos made from sea water. A tree sprang forth from its core segments: the stars as the canopy, the roots as the earth. Welling up from its mandibles was the blackness of night, the abysmal shade that only caves can harbour. Its antennae curved back downwards, towards the altar, as though it was waiting for fresh prey to be placed there. Its eyes were made compound by a simple hashing of black lines. Was it looking at him, or simply staring into nothing? He could not tell with those alien, whiteless eyes. Below were simple figures, human individuality ignored in favour of an arthropod! He says they were depicted as thriving in peace, but one cannot imagine such an image drawn without fear. Priests painting in the darkness with nothing but a small fire; did they dare utter a word, disturb their master’s silence?
Then, just as my imagination was aroused and alert, the damned man tapped his pen again! Oblivious to my annoyance, he rushed on with the story. Startled, he turned to investigate the scuttling and nearly tripped backwards with what he saw. It looked like a large crab, squat on a rock that he must have missed when he had come in. Nothing unusual about that, river crabs are neither uncommon nor dangerous – I remarked. But he gave a little chuckle and reminded me that it had looked like a crab. Gingerly he approached it and picked it up with the tip of his machete. It was remarkable light, its four legs dangled in a flaccid and lifeless manner. Though the size of a cat, it was completely hollow like a drainpipe. The upper part was rigid and glossy, the under part was a bit more flexible and where the legs were attached. Both parts were ghostly translucent, with only the faintest tinge of terracotta brown obscuring the light. This was not the remains of an individual beast, but the shedding of something else. For a man who had (supposedly) trekked Bhutan for the Yeti, and roamed Thailand’s paddies for a man-eating tiger, this was enough. Carefully he backed out from that cave, the tapping following, or maybe ushering him all the way to the light. At long last he could not bear the slow pursuit, and rushed the last part, tearing his shirt and grazing himself badly.
After a long silence, suddenly his flight began to board. He said that it had been a pleasure talking with me - more like talking at me, but he seemed like a good man regardless. Maybe he just wanted the company, or the drink, but it still got me thinking.
It consumed me. I studied in vain. My obsession… and that tapping. That long dead cult had found its new follower. I would have to make my pilgrimage at some point. I must.

Back in the day, I was the sole proprietor of a facility that has seen the cultural history of my country move through it.
Beginning as a simple brewery, it has gone through evolutions from a speak-softly shop, to a mafia front and even a hipster paradise. Every iteration of the facility still maintained photos of every owner it housed.
Before the latest revamp, I retrofitted the facility to be a hobby shop; an idea I got from a random Human traveler who was passing through.
At the time, it would've been a better idea to abandon the land and move on. During the beginning of my generation, everyone began to move out of the surrounding area for better opportunities.
It was my own stubbornness and nostalgia that kept me where I am. It was those same vices that made me part of the next generation. That being, the Human military industrial complex coming through my town.
It just so happens that the dying town I resided in was in a good-enough position, both strategically and logistically, to establish a military base. Instead of being kicked off the land, I was offered a government job to turn my facility into a liberty center for the service members. Even though it was meant for rest and relaxation, most of them visited it as a computer lab to do mandatory training.
Eventually, because of the exorbitant amount of money pumped into the project, the town was revived from desolation. It expanded and grew in ways I never thought possible, and I had many interactions with all sorts of Humans from all walks of life.
From people in poverty, to trust-fund children, from farm boys to a carnie, there were all kinds of outlandish stories shared inside the building.
Among them all, one of my favorite events was Sarnt Valor's Pinball machine. Originally an entertainment piece from Earth, I managed to acquire an original, refurbished it, and allowed it to sit in the liberty center. I even removed the coin system to let anyone have a go at it for as long as their liberty permits.
Most people ignored it, some tried their hand and got infuriated by the game, but there was one man who was persistent in beating it; Sergeant Saint-Vallier, or Sarnt Valor, as some call him. He was a member of the United States Army who spent an ungodly amount of time fighting the thing.
Breakfast time? Fought it while eating a sorry excuse of an omelet.
Lunch? Tactically acquired MRE in his mouth.
Dinner? He fed on bitterness and discontent, while snorting pre-workout; or what I think was pre-workout powder.
Sometimes there were General Military Trainings, or an all-hands, yet somehow the Sergeant magically avoided all of them for pinball. I don't know what sorcery he did to pull that off.
The man had become so determined that someone had placed a massive whiteboard next to the Pinball Machine. That thing became a comprehensive guide on how to beat the game, and a progress tracker.
Why did such a thing have to be done? The specific machine is actually named Gurdi's-Goats. Supposedly, no one has legitimately defeated it before, and it was an infamous coin-eater.
Simultaneously a classic, and a game that is the sole inhabitant of a new layer of hell, that Pinball machine is responsible for a good amount of Humanity's suffering. Gurdi's-Goats utilized a function that released a fog inside the zone; concealing everything, so you had to go off of memory, luck and probably sacrificing an actual goat. Even without that blind mechanic, the game stands alone as a true test of precision and patience, because the entire game actually follows a story.
Instead of being bogged down by PowerPoint slides, lower enlisted and junior personnel would watch their Sarge experience a rollercoaster of emotions while playing. They would bet on how far Sarge gets in the storyline, and how many colorful insults he throws at a machine. There was even a long-running bet on how long it would take for him to suffer an aneurysm.
Unfortunately for them, they ended up losing that bet when he suffered a heart attack in the middle of a match.
It basically became tradition and a command-wide dream to beat Gurdi's-Goats; either to one-up him, or out of respect. When Sarnt Valor got carried away by medical, a bunch of guys tried to beat it in his stead.
Gurdi's-Goats chewed through lower enlisted personnel faster than a terrible chain of command. At one point, there were four people from the different branches manning the machine simultaneously to try and match Sergeant Saint-Vallier's efficiency. That didn't work, even with the brain power of nuclear-trained sailors, chair force airmen and marines on a wintergreen high.
The pinball machine was just too much. A game meant for children and drunk teenagers broke the weak and tortured the strong. Even though it destroyed both enlisted and officers like a barracks bunny, those same people became closer through suffering.
People who normally wouldn't visit the liberty center came by to see what the commotion was about. Some were investigators trying to figure out why a serviceman suffered a heart attack in the liberty center. Ultimately, Gurdi's-Goats became a sporting event to see if anyone could beat it, or at least surpass Sarnt Valor.
Eventually, someone actually beat Sarge's record; a tag-team duo between an EMN1 Kikkert and Senior Airman Hippolyte had gone into unknown territory before being knocked back down like they were approaching the sun. Despite losing, a bunch of rowdy military folk cheered like their favorite sports team won against a rival.
The in-house alcohol stows and the nearby Finnegan Pub got dried of all its golden glory from a celebratory wave of military personnel. The event became so massive, random civilians and unrelated servicemembers jumped into the fray.
The sheer size and wildness of the impromptu party caused base police to get involved and ruin the fun. For once, no one got detained or arrested. Yet another investigation was launched to understand how this event occurred.
In spite of the waste of man hours, and the very-obvious cause of it, Gurdi's-Goats managed to avoid being confiscated.
After the festivities, the liberty center slowly reverted back to its original operations. Most believed that the duo's placement at the pinball machine was the furthest possible for mortals to achieve, thus it was left alone to preserve whatever remained of their mental health.
Stubbornness prevailed, however, from stray service members coming in and out to try their hand at the pinball machine. All of them, of course, were beaten savagely by an inanimate object.
After a few weeks, three particular enlisted dropped by. Near the triplex's closing time, Saint-Vallier, Hippolyte and Kikkert had come together for one last go. Normally, I'd turn away any service members who tried to do something cheeky like this. Not this time; I made an exception.
With an empty building, dimmed lights and a video camera recording for proof, three men silently played a pinball machine simultaneously. The only sounds filling the facility were the flippers being slammed and balls clashing all across the machine.
Unlike the other times these three men had fought the machine, no animosity was thrown at the device. From a perfect shot straight through the middle, then the fog of war coming out and bleeding through the machine, even I understood this was the perfect run.
I silently acquired my camera to take a picture of the inevitable. Gurdi made noises that I have never heard before. The same repeated motions I have seen from the best were now changing.
Even from where I stood, I could hear their hearts beating rapidly. Their breathing attempts to steady every time they hit the flippers. To me, the balls were essentially invisible in the fog, but seeing all their eyes move with a purpose proved to me that it was just enough.
In the midst of the campaign, a panel opened up at the top of the playing field. A different colored pinball came on down, confusing even the three men. Although they were taken aback, the machine had lit up brilliantly.
“HIGH SCORE!”
I could still hear the balls in play, yet all three men let go of their stations. Even I could see that the black ball that came in began to smash against the other pinballs like it knew their locations. All the balls were plunged into the gutter, and the new ball went in after them.
The sounds of Gurdi's-Goats were the only thing inhabiting the triplex until all three men roared in celebration at the same time. They hugged each other, gave congratulations and even delivered some mutual backhanded compliments.
I took a picture of this monumental microcosm of the universe.
To this day, that picture remains as a permanent addition to the pinball machine, with the full names of the players. For some reason beyond comprehension, the pinball machine had died after the victory, like an evil God had been purged from its circuits. The only way for Gurdi to work was by having the picture of those men tacked onto it.
It has been years since those three had won, and not a single person had ever topped their accomplishments. I have, however, seen many friendships forged by pinballs.

I’m in a predicament
My doctor prescribed me Adderall to help me with binge eating and aid me in weight loss
Me and my dad have the same doctor
I use it as directed on the bottle with the except of Saturday because that’s my day of rest I don’t workout I treat my self a lil bit
With diet and exercise so far I’ve lost 30lbs since January
Good things
Now my last check up the doc offered to up the dosage if needed. I told him I’d think about it
Now my dad, and I love him dearly I feel for him but the dude is very depressed, like he’s told me about his childhood a lot of abuse and he uses substances to cope.
He was given whisky at age 8 after his nana died
His main one is alcohol which to be fair he’s gotten way better he goes into work on Mondays there’s not 40 beer cans on the coffee table when I visit him.
He doesn’t drink till after lunch.
his other big problem is his sleep
He says he can’t sleep because his brain won’t quiet down.
I get it.
He can’t get his own prescription cause in our state it’s illegal with his heart condition
To sleep he takes Xanax but sometimes he just fucking blacks out doesn’t remember anything
He’s also a pot head both of my parents are
My mom definitely is able to limit herself way better than he can
Now here’s my issue basically I’m taking up the offer of my doctor to up my dosage and I’m also gonna pick up my normal dose and give that to him
The reason for that and the reason I agreed is that
Couple of years ago my Dad borrowed money from me to so he can get his legal weed card
Hunky dory he paid me back.
A week later I visited and he was in shock and I was like what was wrong
He told me he nearly got shot and arrested
Basically he went to this shitty part of town to buy a specific type of weed and the guy he was buying it from used him and his car to do some drop offs and they there stalked by the cops and this guy had a gun on him.
The woman he normally swaps Xanax for Adderall isn’t going to take it any more
So at work we took a break and talked it out.
My logic is look this fucking sucks but I rather try this then him risk getting arrested or shot.
Cause he’s gonna try if I don’t.
Now my victory was that I agreed to do it only if he finally grows up and go to the fucking sleep center get a sleep study done.
I feel bad I feel like I’m enabling him but also I don’t want him to risk getting involved with shitty people. I’ve tried getting him into therapy I’ve offered to go with him to AA meetings and stuff like that.

I've seen a lot of people ask about any positive experiences with Q. here's a detailed post from a year ago from my previous account with one of those automated usernames
OP: https://www.reddit.com/qelbree/comments/13ej5ck/qelbree_diary_woo/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
[copy pasted here too]
Yes, I am writing this at 4am bc of qelbree insomnia
context: 30F, combined type ADHD + bipolar 2. currently on a gap year career wise in the medical field, which made it easier to deal with side effects. Have tried adderall (increased irritability, barely helped with focus, stopped after a month). Ritalin, guanfacine, clonidine, and strattera did nothing, but I also had no side effects.
slowly titrated up because I'm pretty sensitive to new medications. On 400mg and moving to 500mg today, the positives are definitely worth it. Waited until the side effects calmed down before titrating up each time. also switching mood stabilizers throughout this ordeal.
Update: on day 4 of 500mg and just really angry, so staying on 400mg
-dry mouth finally significantly better 4 months later (june) -insomnia still sucks, started taking Doxepin for sleep due to potential interactions with other medications I take. Started at 10mg (less than starting dose), moved up to 20 pretty quick, and now that's starting to not be very effective unless im deadddd tired so will probably move to 30 sometime soon.
Qelbree 100mg/ February:

• so much nausea. Dear God. wish I knew to take it with meals!
• dehydration even though I drink so much water??

- gatorade is your best friend.

• insomnia wasn't much of an issue
• fatigue lasted about 2 weeks? exhausting but you'll get through it
• increased irritability the first 2 weeks

-loss of appetite
200mg/ March

• increased irritability for 10-14 days after increasing dose. clonidine and guanfacine are used for kids, mostly for impulsivity and hyperactive kids, and they're preferred over stimulants for them. no studies of it showing changes in adults. psych said don't bother adding it but i've read it helps some people on here. didn't help me when i gave it a go 5 years ago
• insomnia kicked in mid-March. awake roughly 2-7am. Even if I took 10mg melatonin vs 5mg it had the same effect.
• didn;t see much of an improvement, like maybe 10%
• no more nausea, fatigue, but dry mouth started.

- yes libido increased too lol
-loss of appetite continues, lost 10lb in total. Had to look up eating/food strategies people on stimulants use because I was getting lightheaded from eating very little from not recognizing hunger cues
300mg/ April

• increased irritability for 10-14 days after increasing dose.
• insomnia still kicking my butt. I wake up exactly 2 hours after falling asleep, generally 2:30-7:30am I'm awake. and so focused it's so strange. I sleep maybe 5 hours daily? previously would've never survived on that.
• vivid dreams started
• dry mouth still an issue- tried xylitol mints which help for a bit

- learned to always eat Qelbree with food! high protein/low fat encouraged. don't think my dr knows this

• seeing real improvement, excited for 400mg

400mg/ April 28- May 10

• increased irritability for 3-5 days after increasing dose, but went away really quickly
• the vivid dreams are to the point where sometimes idk if I'm sleeping or awake
• insomnia has started to calm down after 2 weeks of 400mg and split dosing. Initially still got up 2 hours after going to sleep, but now I sometimes get a solid 4-5 hours of sleep and it is life changing
• dry mouth is intense. I use biotene toothpaste, doesn't help much. Xylitol mints are a quick fix. the biotene mouthwash does actually work for a few hours! dunno how you'd incorporate that into your work day though without being noticeable :/

- split dosing: 200mg at 10:30am and 200mg anytime between 2pm-6pm. with food. Has helped, still tweaking it

• iMPROVEMENTS ARE NOTICEABLE!!!! easier to start tasks, switch from one task to another, feeling more motivated after months of burnout and the qelbree irritability + insomnia package. It's only been a week or two but man the last few months of side effects were worth it. I feel like my brain is possibly functioning to the potential it has.

i can prioritize things properly for the first time in my life. it's actually mind blowing.

• sometimes the go go go/running on a motor energy has me thinking maybe this is anxiety increasing? Sort of having a hard time "relaxing" between tasks but ive never really known how to relax without losing All focus so idk
• tea/coffee normally makes me sleepy, recently tea has been making me even sleepier and the new studies about qelbree and caffeine metabolism are worth looking into

I'll be moving to 500mg today (the highest my psych has prescribed, said 600mg is only if your weight is ++) mostly because I want to get all the side effects out of the way before starting work again. A lot of my job requires Maximum Executive Function which i obvs don't have, so this medication has given me hope that I won't be eaten up (again) for messing up patient lists and missing orders. I also want to up to 500mg in order to deal with the stress and insane ADHD challenges of my job, so hopefully this works out. Hopefully insomnia, vivid dreams, and dry mouth go away??
TLDR lots of side effects for months but totally worth it because my brain doesn't feel so broken woo. Hope this helps someone!
1 year 3 months after starting qelbree the difference is night and day, I can actually function and DO THINGS without being 500% exhausted.
-Still on 400mg. Take it at night (w/o food even!) bc I get this weird reaction if I have caffeine within ~45mins of taking it. I get dizzy and fall asleep immediately for half an hour, but caffeine in general makes me sleepy and Q apparently exaggerates the effect it has on you. So checks out.
-side effects: dry mouth isn't bad, just use the mouthwash in the morning. insomnia still there, have to take doxepin 30mg or can't sleep. I eat less, probs I'm using less brain power on small things.

I keep trying to close out the scene, but little things add up, and soon enough become a full chapter. Still trying to wind things down so I can put NYC on the backburner in favor of NYoC for a little bit. This isn't the arc finale, this is just a nice vignette.
One of the two tequila brands mentioned in this is made up. Can you guess which?
[First] - [Prev]
----------------------
Memory Transcription Subject: Chiri, Gojid Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: November 1, 2136
“I should probably go let Toki out,” said David, gesturing upwards. “Did you wanna come with, or would you rather wait here?”
I shook my head. I’d resigned myself to sleeping on the top floor as David’s guest, but I wouldn’t be caught dead taking that staircase more than once per day. “Let me catch my breath. I wanna play around with my new holopad anyway.”
“Fair. Be right back,” said David, as he trotted off towards the stairs.
The little device was a bit awkward in my paws, but it would do what it needed to do. Well, mostly. I turned it on, awkwardly trying to avoid scratching the screen with my claws. Humans didn’t really have claws, so their touchscreens revolved around mashing their squishy paw pad analogues into things.
You know, it’s kind of funny that you’d probably have a better time with an Arxur-built model, the odd voice pointed out.
I sighed. Don’t remind me.
“Greetings!” the holopad said in a cheerful female human voice.
“Eat my ass,” I said cheerfully back to the device.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite understood that,” said the voice. “Would you like me to switch languages to Gojidi Union Standard?”
“Yes.”
The voice abruptly sounded more metallic, but it no longer required translation. “The applicable fontpack for that language is not yet available. May I recommend enabling text-to-speech and defaulting to voice commands?”
“Sounds good,” I told the device. A thought occurred. “Wait, you can make recommendations?” This thing wasn’t sapient, right?
“Yes, I’m happy to make recommendations,” the holopad said. “It’s near dinnertime. Would you like to hear about restaurants in your area?”
My eyes narrowed. “Sure. What’s the best vegan restaurant within ten miles that is currently open for business?”
There was a long pause as it, I presumed, took extra time to filter through which restaurants nearby weren’t permanently closed on account of antimatter bombardment. “There is a vegan food truck eight miles northeast of here that is well-regarded. Would you like a menu, or directions?”
Competition for my new home? “No, that won’t be necessary. Just send an airstrike at their current location, please.”
“I’m sorry, that is not within my capabilities,” it chirped. “May I help you with something else?”
My eyes drifted around the empty room. There were tables everywhere in a varying mix of worn wood and futuristic composites, paired erratically with old vintage lounge chairs and avant-garde ergonomics. It was aesthetic chaos. The accommodations sprawled across the ground floor, with an upper mezzanine full of more seating besides. This place would be exciting when it reopened. I looked at the bar full of bottles whose labels I couldn’t yet read, and wondered if I had what it took to be a skilled bartender like David thought.
I examined what Charmaine had left behind on the table. The bottle of brown liquor with a side of lime wedges. “Hey, can you identify objects visually?” I asked the holopad.
“Of course. Point me at the desired object, and I’ll do my best.” I indulged her--the voice was female, and so was the device now in my mind--and pointed the camera lens towards the bottle. “This is a Tequila Añejo. Tequila is a distilled spirit made from the fermented sap of a desert succulent plant, and the term Añejo implies that it has been barrel-aged at length to enhance its flavor. This particular bottle is from a popular brand called Don Julio.”
I opened the bottle and sniffed at it. It had a sharp, peppery scent, some woodsy notes from the barrel, and a peculiar funk that I’d never encountered before. I wasn’t familiar enough with tequila yet to know if that was unique to the brand, or just the baseline flavor. I’d mostly been trying David’s fruity and grain-heavy spirits, and this certainly smelled distinctly different.
“Is this a good Tequila?” I asked.
“It is a popular brand of Tequila,” the holopad repeated.
“Right, but is it good?” I asked insistently.
The holopad went silent for a moment. “A meta-analysis of popular reviewers provides the following consensus: it is an excellent quality Tequila, but it may be overpriced. Don Julio is a large, old, and prestigious distiller, and, after numerous mergers and acquisitions by its parent companies, they’ve leveraged their branding and pedigree to become a household name. Some smaller independent distillers are known to offer a product of comparable quality for a much lower price.”
Most of that tracked with what I knew about my family’s beverage business. There were perks to being an interplanetary cider heiress, even with the abrupt loss of the “something to inherit” part. Still, if this bottle was expensive, I wasn’t mucking about with it without asking. I picked the bottle back up, and put it back in the open spot on the shelf behind the bar. I nodded, satisfied, at the colorful display of glass and liquids. “Say, if I wanted to make a good tequila-based cocktail, where should I start?”
“The most iconic tequila-based cocktail is called a margarita. It has many variants, but the classic version is made from tequila, lime juice, and a sweet orange liqueur.”
I nodded. Made sense. A lot of Terran cocktails seemed to start with citrus fruits for their pleasant aroma, and to mix sour and sweet flavors. “What’s a good aged tequila to use in a cocktail without getting too expensive?” I held the holopad up towards the bar. “Please select the best choice from visual.”
The device considered the request, then highlighted a simple-looking bottle with a picture of a horned Venlil on it. “Cabra Furiosa,” it said. “There is some online debate over whether or not the company should rebrand. There is concern that the logo looks too much like a Venlil.”
I stared at the label in confusion. I mean, sure, the horns were wrong, and the eyes were weird, but come on, Venlil were one of the closest species to the Cradle. I’d recognize that wooly snout anywhere. “But that is a Venlil. Isn’t it?”
“That is a goat.”
I sighed. Another Terran wildlife lookalike. An enterprising human could probably hunt his way through the entire Federation without leaving home. Maybe that’s why they were so chill with us? Nothing they hadn’t already eaten before?
I picked the bottle up and set it aside. “Alright, point out the orange liqueurs that are good choices for a margarita?”
Four bottles were highlighted in succession, indicating an order. “Cointreau, a type of liqueur known as a triple sec, is the traditional option. Gran Marnier, which is a triple sec blended with brandy for subtlety and depth, is a popular alternative. If those are unavailable, any more generic varieties of triple sec should work. Lastly, Blue Curaçao would be an unconventional but technically valid choice.”
I stared at the bright blue liquid. “Why would Blue Curaçao be unconventional?”
“The flavor profile is somewhat divergent from the other liqueurs previously mentioned,” the holopad said, “but mostly because it would turn the drink blue.”
Alright. Little bit obvious, but fair. It wasn’t even a fun blue color like a berry, or a dangerous shade of blue like blood. Well, my blood.
In any event, I had some background at this point in brandy, so I pulled down the Gran Marnier, set it next to the tequila, grabbed a handful of lime wedges, and asked the holopad to walk me through how to make a margarita. I fiddled with the proportions for a while--and even added a teensy touch of some other “cocktail seasonings” like bitters and syrups--until I liked the scent and taste of it, before I shook it with ice. I heard a dog barking happily, and the sound of small paws scrabbling along the floor, before I spotted David, who arrived just as I was pouring.
David smiled. It was a spooky expression, flashing his teeth at me, but it was growing on me. “Oh, hey, whatcha making?”
I slid one of the two glasses towards him. “Margaritas.”
David’s eyes went wide, briefly, and flicked towards the table in a panic, then back to the bar’s shelves behind me. “With the…?! Oh! Okay.” The look of relief on his face when he realized I’d picked a cheaper bottle was palpable. “Cabra Furiosa. Great choice, actually.” He nodded towards the glass. “May I?”
“I can’t slide it towards you any harder without it falling off the bar,” I pointed out.
David snorted. He picked it up, sniffed at it, and took a sip. He blinked. “Yeah, shit, that’s actually really good. Do you have any idea how many bartenders manage to fuck up the sugar to acidity ratio? Because it’s most of them. This is a boozy limeade with depth. Well done!”
I blushed a little at the praise, but I was still incredulous that I was somehow intrinsically talented at a skill that I hadn’t even known existed at this time yesterday. “Really? How… how do they fuck this up? It’s mostly three ingredients!”
“I mean…” David began. “Our planned lunch service notwithstanding, we do haute cuisine at the Cropsey Carnival. We try to elevate flavors, dishes, and cocktails. But fucking up the ratios aside, if I’m being aggressively honest? Most bartenders fuck up a margarita by only using two ingredients: tequila and sour mix. And a ‘good’ margarita is when the bartender slips you extra tequila.” He shook his head. “Quantity is not quality.”
I nodded and took a sip of the other glass, the one I’d poured out for myself. He wasn’t wrong. It was difficult and pretentious for an artist to objectively declare their own work as “good”, but subjectively? I truly enjoyed what I had made. It made me happy, and it made me even happier to see that someone else had enjoyed it as well.
As for the drink itself, it blended into a more beautiful harmony than I ever could have dreamed of before I’d come to Earth. All these good but rough components rounding each other out. The twin scents of the fragrant oils from the lime and orange rinds, the zesty sour notes of fresh lime juice, the rich depth and sweetness of the orange liqueur, and through it all, the aged tequila sat, unphased, a deep and primal drumbeat that would keep playing for its own sake, no matter who showed up to jam with it.
“Let’s leave them for a bit, though,” said David. “We’ve got some groceries to unload, and I don’t know about you, but I hate exercising while drunk.”
“Fair,” I said. As we walked outside together, one of the deeper thoughts I’d been mulling over bubbled up. If the Arxur were singular monsters, and the Humans were this… intricate and advanced civilization of social monsters, well, the latter didn’t exactly sound unappealing to me at this point. I wanted to know more about how David had fought the former Peacekeeper with words alone. “Hey,” I said, as we approached the boat, “can you break down your debate with Charmaine a bit for me? I want to understand human dominance rituals a bit more.”
David choked on his own spit. “Whoa. Hang on. Don’t use the word ‘debate’ for that. That was an argument, and even calling it that is being charitable. I’d be fully thrown out of my high school Debate Club for half of the bullshit I said just then.” He shook his head. “Calling that conversation ‘a debate’ is like comparing an Olympic fencing match to a back alley knife fight.”
We were hitting a concentration of topics where my Federation-built translator chip was just saying “Oh absolutely fuck no,” and bailing out on me.
“David,” I said slowly, “I’m really gonna need you to break this down for me, because none of those events you’re using as similes have an uncensored translation in my language. Please tell me more about this Terran tradition of a Back Alley Knife Fight.”
David blanched, and did not immediately respond.

“How could he escape?!” Achaicus shouted as he paced his office. His brow was creased and his nose scrunched into a crinkle with his sneer.
“I don’t know,” Markos responded with a careless shrug, “He was hardly in any condition to move, someone must have helped him.”
“What if he revenanted? Are you certain the injuries you inflicted weren’t enough to kill him?”
“I’m quite sure. His vitals were stable and there was nothing in the room for him to revenant himself with,” our cousin assured calmly.
My brother was practically pulling his hair out. So far only a handful of people knew of Mercurissen’s ‘escape’ and I sat restlessly in the corner waiting for them to come to some kind of conclusion. All I could think was that I hadn’t secured the room well enough to hold the little vanir, and if he woke, he could escape in earnest.
“Mercury is occupying Dunkel, and we have no leverage!” my brother continued, agitated.
“Weren’t you the one who wanted simply to kill him?” Markos pointed out, earning himself a glare.
“We can still leverage a body.”
“And you can do the same thing with a non-existent body.”
“Not if he shows back up!”
They argued as guilt threatened to drown me.
“What are your thoughts, Nathaniel? You’re awfully quiet about this,” Markos asked bemused.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s obvious someone helped him. Perhaps one of our humans are compromised? Or one of our own guards. Mercurissen promised amnesty to any who chose to swear loyalty to his father, maybe someone believed him.”
“Nonsense, none have returned from the outer borders,” Achaicus muttered, swallowing the last of the wine from his glass in one gulp.
“I can’t see any other way for him to have disappeared,” I lied easily.
We had spent days since then searching the grounds and, unsurprisingly, found no trace of the vanir. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if anyone found out I had him. Looking at my brother now, I’m not sure he would survive the knowledge that I was the one betraying them… He would probably implode.
I excused myself from dinner early, taking with me a heaped plate of food with a secondary plate hidden under the first, and went directly to my chambers. However I returned to find the room immediately empty. The Vanir was not where I had left him, nor was he anywhere in sight and my heart began to race as I set the food down to search.
A thousand sparkling ornaments sat undisturbed from their places and the balcony doors were still firmly locked. The bathroom was empty and nothing had been broken. But the items on my desk were disturbed and a pocket knife sat out in the open. Had he somehow revenanted and escaped?
With cold sweat beginning to form on my brow I approached the bed, stepping around it cautiously. The tethering spell was still in place and I followed the length of it with my eyes. It curved across the floor and disappeared under the bed skirting.
Perplexed, I crouched to lift the fabric aside and to my surprise that was where he was. Mercurissen had squished himself under the bed and was curled with his back facing me so that the rest of the room was in his line of sight. His chest rose and fell gently, he must’ve fallen asleep waiting.
The relief left me breathless, before irritation set in. What did he think he was doing? I took hold of his ankle and pulled him from under the bed. He didn’t notice immediately, he must have been more deeply asleep than I’d thought, but panicked for a moment when the sensation of movement at last woke him.
He tensed and his eyes were momentarily feral before panic calmed to mild apprehension as he gave up. Giving no further resistance, he allowed his body to go limp as I dragged him out, stopping only once he was at my feet. His hair brushed against the floor, and he balled himself up, expecting the worst.
“Why were you under there?” I demanded firmly.
“I heard someone come into your room,” he responded with mild agitation.
“So you hid under the bed like a child.”
He scowled, “Where else was I supposed to hide?”
“Who came in?”
“I don’t know, a human girl with white hair.”
Calla, Markos’s pet, I thought and my blood froze, “Did she see you?” I asked urgently but he scoffed.
“In this clutter?”
The ice in my veins dissolved into hot irritation, “You’d best be careful how you talk to me you little brat,” I muttered, annoyed.
“You told me not to let anyone see me, so I didn’t. What more do you want?” He remarked, beginning to sit up, however I forced him back down.
Holding both of his wrists against his chest with one hand, “Keep your sharp tongue under check.”
The Vanir glared back at me, “Let me go,” he muttered, struggling for only a moment before deciding it was pointless and diverting his gaze to the side, “You’re hurting me…”
The statement surprised me, and I let him go with a small scoff, “You’re perfectly fine.”
“Whatever…” he murmured, stubbornly deciding to remain on the floor exactly where I had left him.
He was like a petulant child acting out and I couldn’t explain why he bothered me so much. Almost everything he said pissed me off and I made an effort to calm. “I brought you some food,” I announced instead.
His brow creased slightly as he looked over to me, “…You brought me food..?” he asked with softer uncertainty as he sat up.
“Yes,” I answered bluntly. I had divided the one overfilled plate over the two and offered one to him.
“Why…?”
“You said you forget to eat when you’re fighting, and I know you haven’t eaten since you got here.”
“…Oh.. I..” he murmured awkwardly.
“It’s not poisoned,” I teased.
I sat on the bed above him and his expression then was difficult. Something between a sneer and what almost seemed to be regret. He sat with the plate I had handed him, but he made no move to eat it.
“What? You don’t believe me?” I mused, “if I wanted to kill you, poison would be the last way I would do it.”
“It’s not that…”
“Then what?”
“I don’t eat meat…” he explained, looking away awkwardly.
“Pardon?”
“I said I don’t eat human meat,” he repeated, louder, and for a moment I couldn’t find the words.
“The Son of Mercury, merciless killer of the Fae, doesn’t eat meat?”
The vanir’s cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment, and he turned away “..Whatever, just kill me and get it over with-”
Mercurissen stopped short and his eyes widened as I reached over, taking the meat from his plate and replacing it with a bunch of grapes from mine without a word.
The flush colouration in his cheeks darkened as he looked up at me bewildered, “I- you-? Why?” He demanded, shocked.
“You didn’t let me starve, it would be rude of me not to repay the debt. Just make sure you eat slowly.”
“…That’s not a debt you have to repay…” he mumbled, but I dismissed him.
“Be quiet and eat.” I told him firmly, but after a moment couldn’t help myself and asked, “You didn’t want to eat with your family because that whole banquet was mostly meat?”
Mercurissen fidgeted uncomfortably, “My father doesn’t like it much that I don’t eat it. So I hate it when he asks me to eat with him because I know I’ll have to.”
“You would eat something you don’t like if he asked, but you wouldn’t let me starve?”
He paused as he thought about how to explain, “No… it’s more that I think it’s unfair… I do everything he asks, even when I don’t want to, and I would have let you starve because of it… but I asked him to stay, and he didn’t. He didn’t even bother to tell me when he was leaving, or where he was going…”
“You really didn’t know his plans?”
“No.. he doesn’t often tell me anything.”
I considered for a moment, if he truly hadn’t known where Mercury was going, then he likely didn’t know about Dunkel and that absolved us both of some guilt. Without thinking, I rested my hand on his head to play with his hair idly, “So you disregarded him out of spite?”
Mercurissen froze momentarily under my touch before relaxing again, “…No, I just decided not to do something I didn’t want to do for him, when he couldn’t do the same for me…”
“You didn’t want to let me starve?” I asked tentatively and he turned back to look at me.
“Why would I? Who actually wants to watch someone starve?” He asked pointedly.
I regarded him as I considered the question, “I thought all Vanir enjoyed watching others suffer,” I stated at last. He didn’t answer, and after a delay I chose to continue, “You shouldn’t do anything your father asks of you that you don’t want to do.”
“I am my fathers ‘perfect’ son… Everything he wants is what I should want.”
“Your father has left you to die,” I told him sedately.
A brief look of confusion crossed his face, before he seemed to understand, “He responded to your treaty offer…?”
“…Yes.”
“I told you he wouldn’t agree…” he murmured, focusing his gaze downward to the plate in his lap. His father had abandoned him, and Mercurissen was unsurprised. I suppose he understood the consequences.
We sat in silence for a long time. He had by then stopped eating and instead rolled one of the grapes back and forth over the ceramic surface until he eventually spoke again.
“…Eiríkr…” he murmured almost inaudibly.
“..Pardon?” I asked, unsure.
“My name is Eiríkr… Eric in the common tongue,” he explained softly.
I waited frozen in place, “Why are you telling me now?”
“…I don’t know…”
“You’re not afraid of me using it against you?”
The vanir gave a humorless laugh, “What else could you possibly do to me now?”
I sighed to myself, I suppose he had a point, “Eiríkr… finish eating your food.” I ordered softly, pushing his head down as I stood.
Eric gave a small sound of annoyance, patting his hair back into place before asking more quietly, “...Why are you doing this?” He mumbled, keeping his gaze low. There was confusion in his sapphire eyes, as if his own name was foreign to him, or perhaps he was simply trying to understand the situation.
“Because I want something,” I answered plainly.
***
In the following days the castle remained on high alert and Eiríkr slowly healed. His bruises faded and the hollowness of his limbs filled out with the exception of his left leg. Unfortunately, as he regained his strength he also became increasingly annoying.
At night he was supposed to sleep on the daybed, but I woke each morning to find him on my bed far away toward the edge. I chose to ignore that. The little brat was stubborn and trying to argue with him was almost pointless. Besides that, he couldn’t do any harm.
During the day I spent my time pretending to search the castle grounds. Achaicus was more anxious with each passing hour and my guilt grew. I wanted to tell him that everything was under control and that he need not worry, but I knew he wouldn’t allow me to keep Eiríkr if he knew.
What made the situation worse was the annoyingly close eye Markos kept. He watched me with unsettling interest, as if he knew something and it sparked some mild paranoia. Was there some way he could have found out? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything yet?
“You’ve been very dutiful with your paperwork of late,” Markos commented as he entered my office. It was unusual that he should deliver the infirmary reports personally, and I was immediately suspicious.
“Have I? Perhaps I should ignore it again,” I responded with disinterest.
“Is there any particular reason you’ve taken such a sudden interest in documentation?” he continued unfazed.
“No.”
“You’ve also been attending meals at the appropriate time.”
“Markos, what do you want?” I asked with a sigh.
The truth was if I fulfilled all my duties on time and made appearances where I was supposed to, there were less reasons for others to come looking for me. Which in turn meant I was less likely to be caught harboring a prisoner.
“Oh nothing, I’m simply making an observation,” he smiled and I glared.
“Leave.”
“As you wish,” he agreed, giving a mock bow and I threw a book in his general direction. It landed beside him and he chuckled to himself, “Temper, temper~”
“Go harass someone else.”
Markos left without further delay and I sighed deeply. If that man suspected something, he would keep pressing it until he found what he wanted to know. In ordinary circumstances he would have been the person I could confide in, but I didn’t know how he would react to this and I didn’t want him telling Achaicus.
Eiríkr had broken the tethering spell some days prior, and we had stern words about it, but since then he had begun to wander about the room freely. Choosing also to fill his time with petty tributes to his dislike of captivity. As a result, I commonly returned to chaos in my room.
He rearranged some of my collection, ‘neatening’ it after he claimed it blocked the pathways. Placed books back in the shelving, making me lose my page in several of them, and moved my crystals around.
“Stop touching everything,” I growled, fed up when I realized he had thrown out dozens of the half empty soap bottles in the bathroom.
“I haven’t touched anything,” he lied casually and I turned to glare at him. Eric was sitting on the floor beside the balcony doors. It looked like he had been asleep under the curtains in the sunlight and he yawned, rubbing his eyes, although still looked tired.
“I’m not a fool. I can clearly see you’ve moved things.”
“Some stuff fell- oh…” he stopped as I leaned over him.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“…What does it matter… it’s all junk anyway.” He grumbled quieter and my blood pressure began to rise.
“None of it's junk!”
“Please, I bet you don’t even remember where half of this stuff came from!”
“I know where everything came from, and everything has its own place, so stop messing with it.”
“You’re a hoarder, you know that?”
It took everything I had not to smite him, “Don’t. Touch. Anything else.” I repeated firmly.
Eric exhaled annoyed, “Fine.”
“Good.”
“But I don’t know what else you expect me to do,” he added and I pinched the bridge of my nose exasperated. Did he have a ‘less annoying’ setting?
“I expect you to wait patiently and recover. Read a book or something.”
“I don’t know how to read,” he retorted flatly.
I hesitated, too taken aback to respond, did he expect me to believe that? “You can’t read?” I repeated back to him, dumbfounded.
“I can read the runes for spells.”
“But you can’t read words on a page?”
“Not English ones, or whatever Fae language that is in those books.”
“You’re lying,” I decided at last and he laughed.
“Why would I lie about something like that? I was only taught how to read runes by my parents, we don’t value literature all that much. My father has books in his study, but not even half as many as you have in here, and I’ve never seen him read them.”
“How old are you again?”
“Seventy-nine.”
“You’ve had that long, and you can’t read? Even humans learn in a few years.”
“It wasn't important to know.”
I smiled just slightly, “I bet that made snooping around hard.”
“Why do you think I kept moving your books around?”
I laughed, maybe he wasn't’ lying after all. “What do you know, Mercuries ‘perfect’ son is an illiterate~” I purred smugly.
“At least I'm not a hoarder.”
“No, but you are sentenced to death,” I reminded him unkindly, and he was at last quiet. “I’m going to bathe. Just sit still and wait.”
“…Could you help me up first?” he mumbled softly and I felt mild guilt. Maybe I shouldn’t have antagonized him that way.
Without another word I offered my arm and helped pull him to his feet.
“Thanks...”
I ignored that, telling him instead, “I was late to dinner today, so I brought you some pastries instead. Eat, if you want.”
He hesitated, surprised, glancing over to where I had set down the plate for today, “Nathaniel…”
“Don’t tell me you’re allergic to pastry?” I groaned, I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked, he was fussy about everything.
“No… I just, ah, thank you. Will you stay and eat with me?” The request caught me off guard and I paused, I hadn’t intended to- “Don’t think about it, just agree,” he continued interrupting my thoughts.
“...Fine,” I muttered carefully. I couldn’t see the harm.
Eric smiled like a coy child tempting someone into something they wanted, and I almost regretted giving in. However, eating with him wasn’t unpleasant. We spoke some, and he ate slowly.
“I didn’t mean to upset you… before,” he commented gently.
“Pardon?” I responded with suspicion.
“I’m saying I’m sorry… for putting your books away…” he paused, giving a taunting smile as he continued, “...and moving some of your junk.”
“It’s not junk,” I repeated exasperatedly, and he laughed. It was a soft, unexpected sound that caught me off guard, “What are you laughing at?”
“You're getting defensive of inanimate objects, but you think I’m the fussy one.”
“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, standing to go, but as I did so Eric took hold of my arm again, “What do you want now? Let go.”
“You don’t need to bathe.”
“Excuse me?”
“You smell good still, actually, maybe even a little bit better than you did this morning… and you’re not dirty. Stay, talk to me a little while longer?”
I shook my head in disbelief, “Let go of me.”
He held firm and I swallowed hard. I wasn't sure anyone had wanted my company with such determination before and some part of me relished in it.
“…You’ve never told me what’s wrong with your leg,” I changed the topic, but made no further move to leave and he looked uncomfortable.
“It doesn’t work since you broke the spell maintaining it, obviously.”
“But why does it need a spell at all?”
“Does it matter?”
“If I’m asking, I expect an answer.”
Eric delayed, “…It got damaged in a revenant when I was a child.”
“I wasn’t aware Vanir could get hurt revenanting,” I commented simply. If he thought he could lie to me he was mistaken. However he didn’t elaborate so I continued, “Why haven’t you rewritten the spell by now? It’s not as if you don’t have the time.”
“If I could, I would, it’s not that easy. I don’t remember most of it, and you erased the anchor point.. besides… it wasn’t a perfect spell.”
“I’m not going to apologize.”
He gave a small irritated sound, “I wasn’t asking you to, you bastard. But I hope you realize if I can’t walk, I can’t train you, so this stupid little idea of yours isn’t going to work.”
“If you can’t train me, remind me: why am I keeping you alive?”
It wasn’t a serious question as it wasn’t a problem I didn’t have a solution for. However it was enough to shake him and he watched me with a wary caution. “Can I go bathe now?” I mused and he let go with a snort of disgust.
NEXT CHAPTER (available on patreon)
Chapter List

Boys: Harold, Zee
Episode 13: Lies, Cries, and One Big Prize
"Previously, on Total Drama. Zee, Scarlett, and Harold created their own challenges!"
"Zee went with balancing, which bit big time for Scarlett and gave Harold the shock of his life."
"Harold's treetop race was more entertaining than a sawing monkey. Surprisingly, Scarlett won the challenge, and Harold fell from grace and the trees."
"So, it all came down to Scarlett's challenge: a trivia challenge about the former competitors. Zee didn't have too good a start, but quickly earned himself a spot in the finale."
"It all came down to a final question, and one that Scarlett ironically got wrong. Bye-bye!"
The montage ended with a flash, showing a close-up of Chris in front of a bare rock wall. "Down to two from three," he said, holding up three fingers but lowering one of them, "cause now we're Scarlett-free. But," he lowered another finger, "it'll still be neat to see who gets beat," he punched his open palm. "So! Grab a seat. There's one million bucks on the line," the shot cut to a robotic arm lifting up the open suitcase full of prize money against a radiant orange-and-gold background. "Iiiiiit's finale time!" Chris said as the shot cut back to him.
"On Total! Drama! Paaaaaahkitew Island!"
(Theme Song)
A deep note played as the episode opened on the bunker, the sky dark and the crickets chirping. A deep sigh issued forth from it, and the camera soon cut inside to show Harold tossing and turning in his bed. He got up and grabbed a pillow from the bed above him and closed his eyes with a smile, only to open them and sigh again.
Confessional: Harold
"It's no use," Harold sighed in the confessional. "I just can't get to sleep. I'm too anxious about tomorrow. I don't know if Zee is having the same trouble as I am..."
“It’d be cool if I win the last challenge. Just think about how much better my life would be. No more wedgies, wet willies, and toilet face plunges, my peers would respect me more as a million dollar winner, and I can invest the money in a way that’ll make me more than the show has to afford.”
Confessional Ends
The static cut away to show Harold turning his back to the camera with another sigh, then the shot cut to the inside of the barn to show Zee sleeping peacefully and snoring rather loudly.
Confessional: Zee
"This is a high stress situation, but I’m able to get some rest in order to ease it," Zee explained. "Even if it’s a million dollar competition against Harold."
Confessional Ends
An angelic sound played as the shot returned to a close-up of Harold, his eyes blinking blearily to sleep as the light of dawn streamed in through a window high on the wall above him.
Just as he and the music seemed to reach a peaceful rest, the wail of an airhorn pierced the walls and forced Harold back into wakefulness, his eyes snapping open wide and bloodshot. "Harold and Zee," Chris announced over the camp loudspeakers, the screen splitting in two with a shot of the good vibe guy blearily waking up sliding in on the left. "Meeting area, now!"
The scene flashed to Zee and Harold standing before Chris in the open meeting area. "Yes! Today, I fire one of you from a cannon," he greeted excitedly. "And then start my vacation."
"Plus you'll hand one of us a million dollars," Harold added with a grin.
"I haven't forgotten, dude," Chris said in annoyance. "I'm just focusing on the parts that bring me the most joy. Okay?"
"What's the challenge?" Zee asked. "Is it physical or have you decided on something else?"
Harold grinned. "Total Drama finales are always physical," he said. "And while I am classified as a brain, I'm afraid I have more fighting skills than you."
"Don't get too overconfident just yet," Zee warned. "I might surprise you."
"If I may continue?" Chris interrupted, his annoyed expression soon dropping. "Your final challenge is so demanding, the lawyers insisted each of you get a helper. Ehh," he shrugged, "it's not a horrible idea. I mean," the shot cut to the finalists as they watched him, "maybe they'll be able to help us find your bodies!" Zee and Harold shared a brief but wary look. "So, which of the past contestants would you like as a helper?" Chris asked, stepping over to them.
Confessional: Zee
"I'd prefer Julia," Zee told the outhouse camera. "She's really rad, and we work well together. But I wouldn't be too upset over having anybody else as a helper. Well, except for Scarlett."
Confessional: Harold
"It's no surprise that I'd prefer Leshawna over anyone else," Harold confessed. "She can handle her own battles and objectively speaking, she is the most physically attractive girl this season. I just wish that we were able to talk to each other before she left."
Confessionals End
"I choose Leshawna," Harold said with a smile as the static cut away and a triumphant tune played...for a few brief moments.
Chris chuckled. "'Choose'?" he repeated, laughing again. "Nooo, no no no no no no no...," he told the finalists.
"But you just asked us-," Zee pointed out in confusion.
"I know," Chris conceded, "I asked you who you wanted, I did that to be mean." He laughed again as the sound of squeaky wheels approached. "Your helpers-" the camera pulled back to show Chef pushing a large widescreen monitor up to the host on a cart- "will be selected thusly! When you press this button," he held up a remote control with a single red button on it, "the possible helpers will flash across the screen." A game show jingle played as the shot cut to the monitor, now showing the portraits of the eliminated contestants rolling down across the screen as if on a reel. "Whoever's face it stops on, is your helper."
The reel stopped on an image of Scarlett after drinking Juggy Chunks. "What happens if we land on someone we don't want?" Harold asked.
"You each get one chance to pass and spin again," Chris answered with a wide grin as the sound of a helicopter grew louder. "And just to make things even more interesting," he added, growing more and more giddy with each moment, "I've brought all the helpers out to watch!"
"RELEASE ME, YOU CRETIN! I DEMAND IT!" shouted a familiar voice.
Harold and Zee gasped as the music spiked, and the shot cut to the same dual-rotor military helicopter that Chris and Chef had taken shelter in during the island's malfunctioning as it flew in overhead.
Then the camera panned downward to show the twelve eliminated campers dangling under it tied up in ropes – Max on the far left, then Amy, Sammy, Duncan, Ella, B, Lightning, Scarlett, Julia, DJ, Leshawna, and finally Jo on the far right.
"What's the big idea, McLean?!" Jo shouted hatefully, the shot cutting in close to her and Leshawna.
"Yeah," Leshawna chimed in, "why do I gotta be hanging next to her!" The two girls locked eyes and glared.
"I don't think that's the issue here..." DJ said, the camera panning onto him.
"I personally don't mind being tied up like this," Julia said in a positive tone, the camera pulling back to show her smiling. "I'm just happy to see my boyfriend in the finale."
"I didn't even want to show up, but I would appreciate it if I was actually seated," Scarlett said in a grumpy tone.
"Sha-yeah!" Lightning agreed as the camera panned onto him. "Chris, these ropes might cause Lightning some bruising. Can we get them loosened a bit?"
Scarlett gave Lightning an incredulous look. "You do realize that if the ropes are loosened, you'll fall?"
"Lightning will just get back up again," Lightning told her obliviously.
The camera cut back to B. It lingered on him for a few moments as he awkwardly looked from side to side, then directly at the camera as he smiled coolly.
"Despite this drastic situation we're in," Ella sang after the song panned to her, "I still want either Zee or Harold to win~!"
Another pan to the left showed Duncan watching her. "My money's on Harold," he said, shrugging.
“And how come?” Ella asked.
"Zee's cool and all, but I just know the dork better," Duncan answered.
"Really?" Geoff asked, raising a eyebrow in disbelief. "Are the shows in Jersey really that terrible to watch?"
"They are if ya don't have tickets!" Anne Maria answered happily.
Yet another pan put the focus on Amy and Sammy. "Are you still not going to apologize for how you've treated me ever since we were little?" Sammy asked.
"And why should I?" Amy replied in slight irritation.
"Because I put you in your place and pointed out your own flaws," Sammy explained. “The least you can do is be humble a bit.”
"You may have gotten further than me, but you still didn’t win the season," Amy bragged. “You're a bowl of mush, and I'm a parfait, which is French for perfect.”
“So what's French for bossy blonde cow?” Sammy taunted with a smirk. “I know! Vache blonde autoritaire!”
"You are so going to get it," Amy growled.
The camera pulled back to show Max clenching his eyes shut in pain. "Would you two identical ladies cease that annoying racket?!" he finally yelled with another force to startle Amy and Sammy into looking at him. "Thank y-" he began to say plainly before Amy smacked him in the head. "Hey!" he said, cringing at the hit.
"Okay," Chris said, the music turning slow and plodding as the camera cut back to him, Zee and Harold. "Now that the Peanut Gallery has had a chance to reintroduce themselves, let's move on."
"Whoa, hold on a minute," Zee held up a hand to interrupt. "Why? How? When?"
"Uh, you're gonna have to be a little more specific there," Chris told him, raising an eyebrow.
"He means why are they all tied up?" Harold translated.
Chris let out a long, irritated sigh. "Fine," he said. "I'm keeping them tied up and in plain sight so we don't have them float towards the sun, okay?"
"No," Harold said bluntly.
"Not really," Zee replied.
"Whatever," Chris told them, his brow creased in annoyance. His expression then changed into a smile. "Who goes first will be decided by a coin toss," he explained, taking out a coin and flipping it towards the campers.
It hit Zee in the eye. He yelped in pain, rubbing where he'd been hit.
"Zee wins!" Chris happily announced. "Let's see who you get," he said as the game show jingled played again.
The shot cut to a close-up of the monitor as the portraits began to scroll past, Zee uttering a series of grunts as she watched off-screen – some hopeful, some annoyed. "Okay, stop," he said after a few seconds, the camera moving to him as he pressed the button on his remote.
The simulated reel stopped on Jo. "Not who I wanted at all," Zee said in disappointment as a triumphant jingle played, "but I got what I got and I'm not gonna throw a fit."
"Harold," Chris said, the camera moving back to the finalists as the dweeb pursed his lips, "you're up."
The game show jingle played, and the portraits started flashing across the monitor again – until they stopped on Scarlett. "No..." Harold groaned.
Confessional: Harold
"I knew the odds of getting Leshawna were slim," Harold confessed. "But I want a helper who would actually assist me."
Confessional Ends
An odd note played as the shot cut back to Zee, Harold, and Chris, the latter two sharing a look. "I'd like to spin again," Harold said.
"Have at it," Chris replied, the shot briefly cutting to the pictures flashing across the monitor again.
Harold pressed the button, and sagged in defeat – and the camera cut to the monitor to show that it had landed on Scarlett again. The camera moved in front of Chris as he gave her a mischievous look. "Scarlett again?" he asked in fake shock. "What are the odds?"
The camera pulled back as Chris turned to the right and nodded at Chef, who returned the gesture and walked away. "Okay, looks like Zee gets Jo and Harold gets Scarlett," Chris said, nodding toward the helicopter. The ropes tied around the two chosen helpers abruptly came loose, causing both to fall, but while Scarlett landed in an awkward flop, Jo simply tucked her legs in and rolled as a light but triumphant tune played.
She got back onto her feet just as Zee walked up to her. "Hey Jo. I know we haven't gotten along-" Zee said.
"-but since we're partners, we're gonna have to try and tolerate each other," Jo replied. "Yeah, I know."
Confessional: Jo
"I'm not in the game any more, which still sucks," Jo explained. "But Chill Pill managed to subvert my expectations. He lasted longer than I thought he would have. And if I have to work with him, then so be it."
Confessional Ends
The camera panned to the right as Scarlett snorted and stood up. "I strongly refuse to partake in this," she said, the shot cutting in close as she brushed the dirt off her shirt then turned around.
She took a step, and walked right into Chef, who snickered and locked a thick metal collar around the quiet brainiac's neck.
"Let me guess. You're going to shock me if I don't play along, right?" Scarlett asked in annoyance as she tugged at the collar.
"You'd think that," Chris said with a mischievous smile, "but this is actually something different. In case you somehow ended up as one of the helpers, I had a special collar made that'll tranquilize you if you don't play along," he finished with a smug look.
Scarlett groaned in annoyance. "Fine."
"Hey, as long as you don't just bail, I'm cool," Chris told him.
"I'm not," Harold interrupted with an angry look.
Confessional: Scarlett
"Unless I want a voltage surprise like the ones I received in episode four," Scarlett told the confessional camera with disgust, idly tugging at the collar around her neck, "I'll help Harold with his goal of winning the one million dollars. That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."
Confessional: Chris
"Am I full of good ideas or what?" Chris chuckled in the outhouse camera.
Confessionals End
"So," Chris said, the static cutting away to show him walking towards the two pairs. "Reunion's over? Good! It's time for your final challenge. I have endearingly titled it, 'The Double Duo of Deadly Dying Death'!" A dramatic spike in the music, reverberated voice, and zoomed-in and angled shot all combined to make the revealing of the title particularly dramatic.
"That sounds dangerous...," Zee said worryingly.
"It's supposed to be dangerous, Dodo Brain," Jo groaned.
Confessional: Zee
"Now I'm wishing I did use my second chance like Harold did," Zee confessed.
Confessional Ends
"Now since Blaineley snuck back onto the island and changed it completely by wreaking havoc in the secret underground control room..." Chris began to explain.
"Umm, hold on," came the voice of Julia, the camera panning back up to the still-loitering helicopter. "What did you just say?" she asked in confusion.
"Wait, you didn't know that?" Duncan asked. "I knew I was forgetting something."
"Host!" Max interrupted, drawing the focus to the other end of the line. "I demand you explain this!"
"No," Chris replied in a deadpan tone. "As I was saying," he continued, putting his bland smile back on as the background music became deep and tense, "we've yet to explore all the wonderful and bizarre new dangers the island's new landscape has to offer. Until now. Harold and Zee," the shot cut back to the two pairs, "with assistance from your helpers-" Zee and Jo shared a frown while Harold and Scarlett shared a glare - "you will race across the island. First one to cross the finish line will receive," Chris turned to the side and grabbed the prized suitcase from Chef, the music building up grandly as he opened it to reveal its glowing contents, "One! Millions! Dol-lars!"
All four teens started cheering.
"All you have to do is survive a 2000-foot plummet from an ice cliff," Chris joyously explained, the camera cutting to the slender peak of a snowy mountain before quick-panning away, "successfully learn to breathe while submerged in mud," the camera panned across a bubbling lake of mud before quick-panning away again, "and then sprint two miles across a wide-open field where," the shot now panned across a seemingly ordinary and empty field, "I'm absolutely sure no harm will come to you."
The shot cut back to the cast as Chris began to laugh raucously for an extended period of time. "The point I'm making," Chris said once he'd finally finished, "is that there's a decent chance you may not survive this."
Both finalists and helpers groaned warily. Then they were each tossed an orange helmet.
"For the first part of the challenge," Chris explained, "the lawyers insisted you wear helmets to protect your brains." The shot cut to him and Chef. "I mean who knows. Someday, you may start using them." The roar of the nearby helicopter suddenly increased, the added wind whipping up a cloud of dust around the men. "When you get to the top of the mountain, it'd be a good idea to build a bobsled," Chris instructed, "or, it'll be a very rough ride down!"
The show's smaller red helicopter was shown flying over, the larger military one flying away with the rest of the former campers still attached. "Grab a rope!" Chris said, the camera panning down the four ropes hanging from the helicopter to show them dangling just above the finalists and helpers. "Your challenge begins...NOW!"
The four grabbed the ropes in front of them, and to a sudden bit of challenge music and a blast of the host's airhorn, the helicopter flew off dragging the startled teens along with it.
"Good luck! Stay safe!" Chris called out after them. "Are things I'd say, if I cared!"
The footage flashed ahead to the top of the snowy peak, several boxes and barrels of various junk – including what looked like several sets of skis – already waiting at the top. The small helicopter arrived momentarily, and the shot cut to its four passengers landing in the show – Jo and Zee on the left, Scarlett and Harold on the right.
"We're supposed to build a bobsled out of this junk?" Jo asked in disbelief.
"No," Zee corrected as he grabbed a pair of skis, "Chris just said it would be a good idea." He tossed the skis onto the ground and stepped on them, a tense challenge tune playing in the background. "I have a different one, so hop on."
The shot cut to a close-up of Jo grinning, then to her jumping onto the skis behind Zee. "Let's do this!" she said as they began to slide forward down the slope and left the scene.
The camera panned onto Scarlett, holding a pair of skis of her own. "We should get moving!"
"What's to stop me from believing that you won't shove me off the skis?" Harold asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
"I have this wretched collar on. Shoving you is the last thing I want to do. Now get on!" Scarlett told him angrily.
"Fine," Harold said, rolling his eyes and walking over to where Scarlett was already waiting on the skis and got ahead of her. The challenge music rose up again as they leaned forward, and started to slide.
The shot cut to Zee and Jo looking back over their shoulders with grins on their faces. They promptly skied through a tall mogul, slowing them down a little and covering Zee's eyes in snow. "I can't see!" he shouted, clawing at the packed snow as they began to swerve.
"Quick, to the left!" Jo shouted, one hand around Zee's waist and one point ahead of them as they swerved away from the camera around another mound of snow. "Now right!" Jo directed, the two swerving back towards the foreground. "Left!" She shouted, but they just sped through another mogul earning a scream from the jock-ette.
Confessional: Jo
Jo was blue from the cold and shivering heavily.
Confessional Ends
"Well isn't that the best thing that's happened today!" Scarlett taunted as the scene cut back to her and Harold.
"Yeah, well, we're gonna be next if we don't keep dodging these things," Harold pointed out as they began to swerve around the moguls as well. "And I want to try and get ahead of them while we can."
The music ramped up dangerously as the dweeb and brainiac slid towards another mogul. "Left!" Harold shouted.
"No, right!" Scarlett replied, the two leaning to the opposite direction, swerving nowhere, and plowing right through the mound. "Aagh!"
"Scarlett!" Harold growled as they started swerving wildly, snow covering both their eyes. They clipped the side of another mogul, sending themselves into a screaming spin, hit a third mogul, and came out tumbling end over end.
The shot cut to the bottom of the slope, the music leveling off as what looked like a mogul on skis slid down. The camera zoomed in as two patches of snow fell away to reveal Zee and Jo inside, the two moaning and blue in the face. "Zee, we need to move," Jo weakly told her partner, "before-"
A massive snowball suddenly ran them over, breaking the snow but leaving the good vibe guy and jock-ette lying in a puddle of melting snow. A crash was heard off-screen, but the camera lingered in place as Jo groaned and stood up. "Let's go," Jo told her partner. "You're still in this..."
"...yeah," Zee said as he caught his breath. "Yeah!" he said, more energetically this time. "I've got this!" he declared before charging forward, the shot cutting to Jo as she smirked softly then raced after her partner.
The camera followed them along for a few seconds until they reached a heap of snow, skis, and dazed-looking teens, which the shot immediately focused on. "What happened?" Harold shot at his partner, the dweeb lying upside-down half-trapped in the snow. "I told you to go left!"
"And I told you to go right!" Scarlett countered, her head sticking out the right way up but her legs sticking out over it.
"Yes, but I'm the one in charge!" Harold replied. "You're supposed to be helping me!"
"I was steering!" Scarlett said before the snow holding her up crumbled away, causing her to fall over with a startled gasp.
Harold sighed in aggravation before a small pile of melting snow collapsed onto his face.
The scene cut away to show Chris and Chef sitting in lawn chairs eating popcorn as they watched the challenge feed, the host promptly pausing it with a beep and looking at the camera. "This finale's out of control!" he said excitedly as the capstone theme began to play. "Zee and Jo got run over! Harold and Scarlett can't stop arguing! And all of them just plowed through like a ton of snow!"
"Stay tuned, "he continued, the shot moving away but the host quickly popping back up in front of it. "Someone is leaving here a millionaire. It's the finale of Total! Drama! Paaaaaahkitew Island!"
(Commercial Break)

"This lowly worm before me is quite pathetic," sneered the proud Shen Tzu, the youngest son of the Tzu clan's patriarch. "Tell me, fool: If you're truly a follower of the Golden Blade sect, then why is your cultivation so weak?"
"Sorry," Ken muttered. "I keep trying to make more time for my training, but I've got a job."
"Haha!" Shen snorted. "You're neglecting your development for mere money? A mindset like that will leave you a mundane mortal forever!"
"Hey, I'm barely in the outer sect!" Ken said sheepishly. "Cut me some slack, elixirs don't pay for themselves."
"What's your job?" asked Shen,
"Food delivery."
"Is that like an actual job with some benefits or did you sign up for an app?"
"I signed up for an app," Ken admitted.
"Yeah, that's not gonna pay for any fucking elixirs either, scrub," Shen said dismissively.
"Jesus, I know!" said Ken in frustration.
"Okay," Shen yawned. "Listen, I'd normally kick your ass for daring to cross my path while showing such disgraceful weakness, but I'll give you a pass this week since these harsh economic conditions will do the job for me. Get out of here."
"I'm grateful, young master," Ken bowed. Woo, that was a close one, he thought to himself.
"Your gratitude can eat a dick, kid," replied Shen as he turned his back. "Take it easy...wait. One moment." He turned back around to glare at Ken suspiciously.
"Yeah? Can I help you with something?" Ken asked nervously.
"Which app do you work for?" demanded Shen.
"Huh?" asked the confused Ken.
"Which one of those stupid apps do you take requests from?" asked Shen.
"Door-flash," Ken said. As soon as he saw the expression on Shen Tzu's face, he regretted his honesty.
"Okay. Changed my mind, I'm kicking your ass," Shen said as he began to stalk toward Ken.
"Huh?! What for?" Ken asked with rising panic.
"Door-flash always fucks up my orders, bro. How many cold fries do I need to suffer the indignity of before you assholes learn how to hustle?"
"Wait! Wait! You can just get your money refunded, young lord!" Ken said desperately.
"Of course, I can!" Shen retorted contemptuously. "But what good will that do me if I'm still hungry at the end of the night?"
"Can't you just reheat your fries?" Ken suggested.
"You're telling me to eat reheated fries? " Shen asked in amazement. "The sheer disrespect! You're really courting death now, shithead!"

26f I’m struggling to lose weight after I randomly gained 30lbs in less than 2 weeks in March. My weight typically fluctuates 1-5lbs but after gaining the weight I’ve been staying at 160.00lbs. Never weighed this much before. I never even gained this much weight being pregnant.
Little back story- never had any health issues before this January my bp spiked to 190/135 so far none of my doctors and specialists are able to figure out the cause. Had to stop birth control and adderall and been getting weekly blood work and scans. During this my weight stayed the same up until March when I put on 10lbs within 5 days then another 20lbs the next 7 days. My eating habits never changed. After the first 5 days my doctor started running numerous amount of tests but no answers. One doctor said it must be from stopping adderall but I was off of it for almost 3 months at tht point and have been off of it for longer with no weight gain, she even switched my bp medicine just in case. I continued to gain weight for another week. Following week my doctor said it was safe to start taking bc and adderall in hopes that was it but it’s been a couple months now and I can’t seem to get my weight to budge. I’m active and watch what I eat. Looking for advice or ideas. Could something be blocking me from losing weight?