Hy vee jobs

Does Hy-Vee post information on the whiskey raffles online? Every store seems to have a different cadence to when they have them and I am only seeing old Facebook posts for events from around 2020/2021.

I used to be a full time checkeattendant at my old HyVee but I transferred and my new store only gives u full time if u work in the pharmacy or are a manager. I’ve heard pharmacy is stressful but I’m also tired of being broke bc I don’t get hours so is working in the pharmacy worth the extra hours?

Hey everyone. I'm new to the community, but am an avid listener of Ezra's podcast. The reason I am posting this is because of recent developments in the topic of UAP (formerly known as UFO's). Please reference this article from The Debrief for more context. I hope the Ezra or the show runners see this and dig in. Thanks!
https://thedebrief.org/intelligence-officials-say-u-s-has-retrieved-non-human-craft/
Hello Ezra and team,
Timeye13 here, reaching out from a very windy Golden Gate Heights in San Francisco CA. First, I want to acknowledge you and your staff for the excellent work relating to the ongoing development and wide proliferation of consumer facing LLM (and other) AI's. Your segments have spearheaded a conversation that is timely and necessary to understanding the broader implications of these tools and how uncertain the future truly is at this moment. I hope you continue the work as the subject continues to develop. I also enjoyed listening to your talks with Dan Savage and Rick Ruben. If Rick did an audio book reading of "Goodnight Moon" I'd likely listen to it nightly. The primary reason for this message is to draw your collective attention to recent developments that, in my opinion, merit much more exploration and reporting: the reality, ubiquity and acknowledgement of encounters with UAP or Unidentified Anomalous Phenomenon (historically labeled as UFO's). Since 2017, when Leslie Kean, Ralph Blumenthal, and Helena Cooper at the NYT's published an article about the DoD's AATIP program along with the 3 gun camera videos from Navy fighter pilots (Gimbal, Tic Tac, and Go-Fast: provided by Christopher Mellon) the public has become aware of government interest in this phenomenon. Primarily, how it relates to security concerns and threat scenarios within the IC and DoD. I won't rehash this story further, as there was a wide array of coverage pertaining to these events, specifically through the lens of military, defense and national security. There were some notable follow up pieces on the topic from Gideon Lewis-Krauss of The New Yorker, and 60 Minutes in the spring of 2021, as well as the first congressional hearing on UAP in 50 years in the Spring of 2022 (which can safely be categorized as political theater). Don't get me wrong, these were all important efforts, and groundbreaking when you consider the historical and ongoing stigma of this subject going back 75+ years. But there have been many remarkable developments since then...such as:

• Top tier academics have come out and stated they are creating viable, peer reviewed methodology for studying this phenomenon. Most notably, Avi Loeb from Harvard (Galileo Project), and Garry Nolan from Stanford (Analysis on recovered "Meta Materials") have made some amazing and outright fantastical claims around what this could represent.
• Last year, The Congress and the Biden admin passed a piece of legislation buried in the FY23 NDAA outlining the direction and processes to pursue the topic: a fully funded office via the DIA (AARO the All-domain Anomaly Resolution Office) to further assess the reality and implications of UAP. This legislation, sponsored by both republicans and democrats, is quite astonishing to say the least. A few stipulations- 1. It calls for all gov documents on the UFO/UAP topic to be up cycled to this office dating back to 1945 (there's a thread to pull, what happened in 1945? hint- Jaques Vallee knows). 2. It provides sweeping whistleblower protections for current or former government or contractor personnel who have information relating to government sponsored UAP initiatives or UAP crash retrieval and reverse engineering programs. Please see Christopher Mellon's blog post for more details on the contents of this unprecedented UAP legislation package.
• Scientific groups such as UAPx and the Scientific Coalition for UAP Studies have both thrown their hats in the ring and are developing best practices for the study of this phenomenon, with some amazing results thus far. Many of the data points suggest our model of physics remains incomplete or misunderstood (that's quite the sentence, I know).
• Entrepreneurship and private enterprise is also playing a key role in the initial study and analysis of anomalous happenings. There is a focus on multiple domains, including: near earth orbit/space, all levels of our atmosphere, and within our oceans. One example, Enigma Labs, is spinning up a data repository for sightings and experiences that will eventually be equipped with modern AI and machine learning tools to separate signals from noise, look for patterns, and exploit capabilities for commercial use. According to many other business and tech leaders here in Silicon Valley, the appetite for making strategic investments into studying and exploiting this phenomenon is robust.

(There is a lot to unpack in this subject. This is basic surface level information) "What's the point of it all, Tim?" you might ask: well...if there is substantial interest from the US government (including Congress and the Executive branch), current and former US DoD and IC representatives, leading minds in academia from premier universities, multidisciplinary scientific bodies and think tanks, and private enterprise, WHERE IS THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA?! There is there there. Why aren't there journalists here here? Where are the leaders in journalism who took a journalistic oath to pull the threads that need to be pulled, follow the facts where they lead, and shine light into the darkness on the public's behalf? (That was only slightly preachy, right?) My point is, outside of a handful of reporters who do short segments on this topic, there isn't a single American investigative journalist with the bonafides of a Murray MAder, or Bob Woodward, or Carl Bernstein, or Ida Tarbell, etc etc, who have had the courage to follow the mountain of leads relating to this subject. Ross Coulthart in Australia is the only notable reporter who is actively pursuing this story. Surely, this has the implications to be the biggest story of all time, right? So where are the reporters? Where are you and your colleagues? Conspiracy theories aside (of which there are many), the heaps of anecdotal evidence is there. The physical evidence is lacking, which is a total understatement. The actions of the aforementioned groups should be evidence enough to motivate some big names in journalism to do their job. It takes courage to wade through decades of stigma and ridicule. I'd like to see more risks in this direction, and I think your team is well equipped to handle it. This might sound sensational, because it is in fact, very sensational. In my opinion, the only way to reveal whether that sensation is merited or not is to disinfect it with sunlight. What could be more interesting than to discover that the world we inhabit is a much much bigger place than we once thought, and that maybe non-human intelligence is not only something we're close to creating, but the universe has already iterated, and shipped it. Thank you for reading, whoever you are. I love the show and will continue listening. In keeping with show tradition I'll sign off by leaving you with my 3 book recommendations on the topic:

1. American Cosmic: UFO's, Religion, and Technology- By Diana Walsh-Pasulka
2. UFO's: Generals, Pilots, and Government Officials go on the Record- By Leslie Kean
3. In Plain Sight: An Investigation into UFO's and Impossible Science- Ross Coulthart

Maybe consider having a conversation with Dr Sean Kirkpatrick, former AWSAP director Dr Colm Kelleher, former UAP Task Force Director Jay Stratton, Sen Kirsten Gillabrand, Sen Marco Rubio, Rep Matt Gallagher, former Deputy Secretary for Defense and Intelligence Christopher Mellon, former AATIP Director Luis Elizondo, Leslie Kean, Dr Garry Nolan, Jaques Vallee, Avi Loeb, Dr Eric Davis, Diana Walsh-Puslka, Ross Coulthart, etc. Good places to start.
Best,
Timeye13

there is a lot of nostalgia for the chicken flat bread sandwiches. And rightfully so they were fucking delicious.
However for some of us Milennials it was a time of strife and toil if you were employed at taco bell 09-10.
When i was 16 my first job was taco bell. I grew up in a small mountain town of about 750 people. I found employment at a taco bell in the county seat, a town of about 6500 people at the time. Needless to say i knew just about anyone that would come through the drive through or into the lobby.
Around this time taco bell took it upon themselves to release the chicken flatbread sadwiches and taco party packs.
I had never worked so hard in my life for $7.25 an hour. It got to the point me and many of the other employees were ready to throw hands with just about anyone we seen come through that wanted to order those two items.
I'm talking classmates, people you see at church, neighbors, you name it. I ended up quitting eventually. But i will never forget this time. I quickly realized i would never work for a fast food chain again.
I remember seeing my friends or other people at school and saying: "hey, stop ordering party packs every fucking time you come to taco bell, order a goddamn 5 layer burrito, try something different"
We constantly ran out of flat bread and party pack boxes.
You wanted to reach out through the drive through and assault every customer that said: "wHy iS My taCos iN a bAg wHerE's tHe paRTy paCk bOx?"
Traumatizing times.

Hy I'm new on this social I'm a guy that basically has to study and work at the same time day by day. After I come back from the family restaurant job, I meet a lot of difficult to sleep I Just use to lay on the bed and basically wait for hours till I "sleep" but it's not really sleeping, Is like between being awake and sleepy, like you are but can wake up any Moment, and that Is not very good when you have to wake up and do a lot of things while smiling all day. I am so so tired, but basically we are 2/3 family members working, the other Is studying in college and working outside because he hate to work in the family Activity, but we are Just two human trying to save the day. The point Is, I don't know what to do beside Little things like rating properly, sleep as well, but it's so hard when you are under stress. Any ideals about how to sleep in a proper way coping with your stress? I'm Sorry if I've written too much, but I'm at my limit

Little background; I'm Liz/Elizabeth/Lizzie (any of those 3 will work). I'm a 19 year old girlflux trans girl. My senior year of high school, I did start telling people I was transgender, but I never did anything other than start growing out my hair (which I'm still doing) so I sort of just faded back into the closet. My parents don't support me, and actually one time, on my way home therapy, my mom said to me these exact words, "I'll never support you." (My dad, I'm pretty sure would support me if my mom was not in the equation. He just takes my mom's side which I can't hold that against him, but that doesn't mean I'm not mad at him for not supporting me). For a few months, I moved out to try to live on my own. Long story short, my anxiety got so bad, I couldn't get a job. Almost entirely ran out of money, had to move back in with my parents. Now we're at present day:
I've been taking anxiety medicine since the beginning of April, shortly after I turned 19. However, I still don't have a job because of my anxiety. My anxiety is just that bad. Anyway, after I do eventually get a job and move back out, I plan to cut my parents out of my life. They said it themselves, they'll never support. I can't live with that sort of negativity in my life. It's confidence shattering for me (negativity from a random person on the street vs someone who's constantly in my life is a completely different story). I told my mom this in an argument once, and she accused me of using them (this outburst from me came from my bottled up feelings from being dead named and misgendered every f***ing day and it started with another hopeless attempt at getting them to be willing to TRY to support me. As you can see, it went downhill fast). She's not wrong. I am technically using them. But it's not like I'm forcing them to let me stay here. If they didn't want me here, the would've already thrown me out into the street. They've chosen to let me stay here.
I want to add that I'm going to push myself to get a job soon, and hopefully try to get out of here. The hard part is, is I've done the math, accounted for all my expenses and stuff, and I probably wouldn't be able to pay all my bills with a starting wage at Hy-Vee or Fareway (the 2 nearest places for me to work, and I'd need something with either not too much social contact, or something overnight, since that's when I'd work best). Then again, I purposely undershot to be safe. I was thinking though that I should just get a job, and see what happens from there. I would be ideal to be completely independent after I move out, so that my parents don't hold anymore cards over me. I intend to talk to my therapist in my nest session about focusing less on the past and future and more on the present

SF6's soundtrack is pretty good. Definitely does the job.
But what music outside of the game really makes you feel each character? I'll get us started with 4:

1. Zangief: Bratva by Slaughter to Prevail (link is Spotify). He's the "rage" guy in Street Fighter. He's also a workout fiend. This song is quintessential workout metal. The main riff even sounds like Gief is stomping toward you. Coincidence that most of the band linked is Russian. That part's not the important part, but I guess it fits.
2. JP: Barocco Satani by Igorrr. Sinisterefined avant garde classical. Easy to imagine that brutal super art to this one.
3. Juri: Deep Beat Overground by Julien-K. Sounds like drugs city party. Sinister vibe. Danceable. Like the song wants to poison you.
4. Dhalsim: Drag Ropes by Storm Corrosion. Just think about Dhalsim when you listen, and it will make sense. His moveset. His animations. His visual design. In my mind, Dhalsim is one coin flip away from being the God of Death. Family's skulls around his neck. Vengeance underneath. Starving himself. Somehow channels yoga mastery into the creation of fire (nature's premier destructive force). Those eyes with no pupils, no irises. You can't read him, but he can read you. In my mind, he's only a good guy because he turned his antidrug (Yoga) up to 11.

What do you fightlords have?

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Credit for the original story goes to u/spacepaladin15. This is the final chapter of NoP 2177, although I personally consider it more of an epilogue. Either way, I hope you enjoy!
[First] [Previous]
---
Memory transcript subject: Tressa, Venlil outlaw
Date [Standardized Human Time]: January 5th, 2178
Location: USS Washington, dark side of Venlil Prime
A bloodcurdling shriek echoed through the hall, followed by the sound of claws scrabbling against the metal floor. A frantic chase ensued, a blur of fur and scales flying down the corridor at breakneck pace. But it was over before it began. A connecting door slid shut with a quiet hiss which silenced all hope of escape, leaving the terrified predator at the mercy of an increasingly impatient prey.
“Hy, we’ve been over this. You need to take baths, or your scales will get all yucky and stop growing. You don’t want that, do you?”
Hyacii was still frantically searching over the door for some way to open it. Her lovely gray coat, matted in oil from some ill-advised exploration through the ship, left streaks of iridescent sludge across the polished floor which would need to be cleaned up. But that could wait.
“Hy…”
Finding no escape from her grim fate, the young Arxur finally turned around to face her captor. “N-no! I don’t wanna!”
“Hyacii, I’m giving you ‘till the count of five. If you don’t come with me when I hit zero, I’ll go get Sasha and she’ll bathe you instead. Fiiiiiive…”
“NO!”
“Fourrrrrrr…”
“I’ll tell Mama! I’ll tell her you’re being mean to me!”
“We’ve talked about this with her, remember? Little Arxur need to keep their scales clean to grow up big and strong. You want to grow up all big and strong like she is, right?”
“She wouldn’t say that! I want to see! I want to see what she said!”
“Sweetie… you’re just stalling. You can’t read big Venlang words yet like she uses.”
She cast her head to the side in a pout. “Yes. I. could! I’ve been practicing with Trish, this much!” To emphasize her point, she stretched her little arms out as far as they’d go.
“Threeeeeee…”
Hyacii swept her tail across the floor in frustration, further smearing oil everywhere.
“Twoooooo…”
With time running out, she employed her final weapon, an expression which Sasha referred to as ‘Puppy dog eyes’. While normally adorable, it now only served to highlight the dark smears across her face.
“One and a half…”
Her full arsenal depleted, Hyacii finally capitulated and stormed over to Tressa’s side with exaggerated stomps. She allowed herself to be picked up, trying and failing to suppress an adorable noise of comfort as Tressa rubbed the scales around her shoulders. He’d need to shower later anyway, so the sludge staining his ragged fur was hardly a concern.
—
The little Arxur squirmed playfully in his arms, kicking up splashes which cut through the layer of bubbles to soak his bedraggled wool as he tried to dislodge more of the thick oil.
“Are you enjoying your bath, sweetie?”
“Yes!”
“I thought you hated baths.” He took a moment to stop scrubbing, and stretched his arms out wide. “This much, right? Isn't that what you said?”
“N— Yes! I do, they take so long, and they’re so… I hate them!”
“That so? What are you doing enjoying one, then?”
Hyacii had no response, which he took as his cue to get back to washing. He carefully cleansed the iridescent sludge, revealing a dense pattern of gray scales which shimmered like a rippling pond. She giggled as he washed around her snout, swishing her tail in a motion which was normally adorable but now only served to push more water out of the bathtub and onto the floor.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you earlier…” He started, pointedly ignoring the irritating feeling of water soaking into his fur and pooling at his ankles, “...but James’ll be out for the next couple paws. He took Beast with him, so no checking on the garden for a little while, OK?”
She grumbled for a moment, before a curious look flickered past her eyes. “Why does he and Sassa keep leaving?”
“Why do he and Sasha keep leaving, not ‘does’. Anyway… you know how we can’t eat the same food you eat?”
“Right! That’s why you’re build— uh, growing the garden!”
“Yeah, but the garden isn’t all grown yet. Until then, we still need to get food from the city. Once our garden grows, we can stay here all the time for you. Remember how we talked about patience?”
“But I don’t wanna be patient! I want him to be back now!”
“So do I, but everybody needs to wait for things. If you keep busy, he’ll be back before you know it!”
Hyacii pouted. “You’re just trying to trick me into practicing more words, aren’t you?”
“I might be. But you want to talk to your mom all on your own, right? If you keep learning with Trish, you can tell her all about the horrible baths we make you take. Speaking of… here, ready?”
After getting a human-like nod of affirmation, Tressa lifted her from the tub and onto a towel. They weren’t sure if the heat of an air dryer would harm her scales, so getting her dry was almost as laborious as getting her clean. It was worth it, though; she enjoyed the feeling of being towel-dried almost as much as she enjoyed tearing around the halls at Mach two. A muffled peal of delight issued from the heap of towel that used to be an Arxur, as he set to work wiping the water from her scales.
—
The USS Washington was once a proud human starship, one of several hundred which had so briefly encircled Venlil Prime to act as defense. Sasha talked about that brief period sometimes, usually when she was drunk; though it lasted only months, enough history was made in that span that it felt like a full decade.
Long, beautiful months for some; the ones who talked reverently about Tarva as though she was still Governor, who made dumb jokes about the Venlil’s behavior on first contact when they still regarded humanity as violent and strange creatures. Sasha, naturally, was one of these people. She’d go on and on about what a magical time it was when they realized the universe was far bigger than they ever knew, and how incredible it was to make friends among aliens. Her closed-lipped smile, a habitual remnant of a time when most Venlil froze in terror at a human’s teeth, spoke of how much humanity was willing to give up for the chance at intergalactic acceptance.
Miserable, chaotic months for others; those who talked about it as a time of strife and mistrust, when Venlil lived in fear of predation and humans suffered the agony of constant rejection and hate. Only following the first bombing of Earth did things begin to change in earnest, and even then it was hardly a clean transition. Refugee shelters and human-friendly businesses went up in flames in a grim foreshadowing of the fate that would befall Venlil Prime as a whole, the planet condemned to burn for sheltering uncured and unpacified humans. Of course, the fact that they were sheltered instead of willingly led to slaughter painted a somewhat softer view of the time period than many would admit.
Both narratives ended the same way. There was no debate over the justice of the Federation’s rule for the generation that remembered a time before; those city-scorching flames still burned fresh in everyone’s mind. Nor was there any debate over the trustworthiness of humanity, not among the Venlil who remembered the invasion.
When an exterminator fleet descended upon Venlil Prime, the UN pulled back the resources it desperately needed elsewhere to defend the planet. Earth itself was left all but unguarded in the effort to save a species that humanity had been allied with for less than a year, a task they set to with a desperate fury that hinged on madness. Hundreds of ships flung themselves at the enemy in suicidal charges once vital systems were crippled, targeting bombers and ensuring that the Venlil could not simply be annihilated from orbit.
​
The USS Washington was not one of those brave kamikaze vessels. It was one of the ships in orbit as a passive defense, knocked out of the fight with relatively minimal damage and able to make a hasty emergency landing on the dark side of Venlil Prime.
In the time Tressa had spent getting systems up and running, he’d never come across a single skeleton; the ship had been thoroughly picked clean by shadestalkers, or perhaps the crew had managed to evacuate without casualties. Or at least had the time and people needed to move the dead off the ship and hold proper burials. Whatever the reason, it made the difficult work of repairing the ship much less gruesome.
They’d fried any records for obvious security reasons, but left the backup power operational. They’d left a number of vital systems operational; if they had evacuated, they’d done so in a rush. Or perhaps they expected victory, and didn’t anticipate the need to scuttle the ship. Either way, Tressa’s job was a hell of a lot easier for it.
Restoring water had been a far simpler job than he anticipated. He’d been dreading the prospect of digging a well, but equipment scavenged from the ship itself had made that process far easier, and the onboard supply alone was enough to last months. With this abundance, they could even afford such extravagant luxuries as baths. Hyacii really didn’t know how good she had it.
—
Once he’d gotten the little Arxur all cleaned up and given her a stern talk about not crawling around the ship’s filthier corners, she was free to ignore his advice and go straight back to sprinting around the labyrinthian behemoth they called home.
He often wondered, watching her stalk around the ship, if this exploration of territory and practice sneaking through shadows was as vital to her development as physical contact was for Venlil children. Sometimes he wondered if so much affection was even natural for her species, or if they were smothering her every time they pulled her in for a hug.
She did enjoy it, but… not everything enjoyable was good for her. When she was younger and had no concept of restraint, they’d have to physically hold her back from gorging herself on berries which would make her violently ill, which she’d keep eating anyway because she loved the taste too much. Maybe it was the same thing with their parental love. Maybe they’d have to teach her how to be more independent for her own good, however difficult that change would be for all of them.
Ultimately, the idea was speculation. Depriving her of warmth would be cruel unless they were absolutely certain it would aid in her development. And the fact was, they had no idea. Despite their best search efforts, records concerning Arxur child rearing were nonexistent.
The Dominion actively suppressed any behavior seen as ‘weak’, so growing up under their reign was a harsh and loveless process; at least, that was what they’d been told by an Arxur who lived through the process, and they had no reason to doubt her. There wasn’t a way they could verify the fact, though. The Federation didn’t want anyone thinking of predators as people, so any records that might’ve existed were long since turned to ash.
As cruel as the Dominion could be, they had an interest in keeping their subjects healthy enough to fight. Without those records, and with only someone else’s faint memories to go by, they were largely on their own in regards to physical development.
Was their little Hyacii eating right? They’d been feeding her using an organ printer they’d managed to repair, but perhaps there were nutrients in bones and skin that she wasn’t getting. Her scales were getting slowly lighter; maybe malnutrition, or maybe that was a natural part of her development. Was she sleeping right? Lately, she’d been complaining about grogginess, though it didn’t seem to stop her from tearing around the halls.
And psychologically? There, they were completely in the dark. All species had different needs, especially at a young age. Venlil cubs needed a level of attention that most humans would find smothering. Human children required forms of play that reflected long-obsolete hunting instincts, games which involved chasing and manipulating projectiles. What types of play did a growing Arxur need? They played hide-and-seek with her (as best they could, though it was rapidly approaching the point where she could neither be caught nor hidden from), but that was hardly a replacement for hunting. Was she languishing without prey to chase?
A hundred different worries, a thousand different questions, and not a single easy, reassuring answer. On that fateful night, Tressa had assumed that living alongside a “true predator” would be the hardest part. In fact, that had come easy; how could anyone feel threatened by such a sweet little star?
No, the most difficult part was coming to terms with the fact that they would make mistakes. In their lack of knowledge, trial and error was the only way to gain ground. And “error” meant hurting Hyacii. No matter how much they loved her, they couldn’t help but hurt her. It was a difficult truth to swallow.
But it was a truth they had to accept. Ultimately, all they could do was try. Try, and love her, and hope that was enough to cover for their failures. Hope that one day, someone else would be insane enough to learn from their mistakes. Hope that their little Hyacii wouldn’t be both the first and last Arxur of her generation. Hope that one day, they wouldn’t have to hide. She wouldn’t have to hide.
​
In the cold shadow of Venlil Prime, it wasn’t enough to have power and heat. Plenty had fled to the frigid wasteland in search of respite, only to die cold and alone despite their physical needs being met. They’d simply lay in bed with no will to survive, waiting as their body gave up on life. It was once believed that the dark side was haunted by vengeful spirits, though modern science put the blame on Herdless Depressive Disorder combined with the harsh physical toll of living in such an inhospitable environment.
Someone with a herd could stave off death’s embrace for quite a while longer, up to months. Many on the twilight edge lived this way, dipping in and out of the darkness as their job demanded. However, they knew not to stay for too long; even with the warmth of companionship, the dark side of Venlil prime claimed all eventually. Life was impossible without light.
​
How fortunate then, that the USS Washington was flooded with light. A light like a ghostly lantern, darting through the hallways and crawling through obscure corners of the ship to come back covered in sludge. A light like a burning star, which filled their hearts with warmth every time it closed in for an embrace. The light of hope; what a strange twist of fate that it would take the form of an Arxur.
---
[First] [Previous]

These two are alien twins from the planet Roygbiv. They have very interesting sexual dimorphism and culture related to colour so if anyone's interested I'll drop another post about it.
Anyway the one on the left is named Violet, who uses He/Xe pronouns. He is a aromantic trans guy who works in the morgue of the Intergalactic Hospital. Xe's snarky, cynical, and not willing to engage with people he doesn't care about or can't get something out of. He likes gothic fashion and true crime, so xyr Aunt Eryth, who's a paramedic and nurse, knew that he could handle a job dealing with dead bodies. Xyr twin sister on the right is Vivian, but she prefers to be called Vee. They use She/They pronouns. She also works at the Intergalactic Hospital but as a resource collector as her community service (Eryth pulled some strings to let Vee and Violet work alongside her.) She's hot headed and dense, but is always sticking up for people and despises authority with few exceptions. She's also a butch lesbian.
https://preview.redd.it/65tewuufta4b1.png?width=2800&format=png&auto=webp&s=ec7e5e6b4099fab81854c2cddbefb73ec5a94061

Check out the link for Hy Vee Verizon Discount. Once on the website, you'll have access to a variety of coupons, promo codes, and discount deals that are updated regularly to help you save on your purchase.

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Reposted from my question in pharmacy (see on my profile) for second opinions
So I take concerta 27Mg TBCR (Reading the yellow label from my Hy-Vee bottle) I weigh roughly 200-209 pounds and have an average metabolism.
The reason I take concerta is for my ADHD but without a open case file with a physc doctor to prescribe me medicine - would it be okay if I take one of my girlfriends anxiety pills (she takes lexipro at 20Mg) while I'm on the road (I'm a back passenger so not driving).
Would I be okay if I take it with my ADHD medicine or no?

--- Table of Contents ---
Summer 4986, 15 Akamoth
Shaloon left the Firewyrm with the journeymen, tired and literally drained but smiling since she was allowed to help them feed and clean the animal specimens. Before continuing down the hall, the Archmage turned back to the small stable. She sighed as the Firewyrm hissed at one of the specimens for crowding too close to the bucket of meat she was dishing out to them. She was like a mother chastising over-eager toddlers. Shaloon’s lips curled in a sneer, her words slipping out in a growl of mixed languages, “Appropriate. Might as well be, her samples allowed for their evolution…”
“Archmage?” Journeyman Brom looked up from bottling the Firewyrm's blood. Fool, he would know all the words she'd said… But what sentence structure had she used? She couldn’t remember and hadn’t noticed. She walked away, having been talking to herself anyway.
She walked up the spiral stairs to the larger labs on the ground floor, the laughter of the Firewyrm ringing in her ears. Perhaps mother wasn’t the right word. The girl didn’t see them as children but as something else… “toys,” treasures.
She didn’t bother to knock before entering one of two main labs on the ground floor, and Morndancer didn’t bother to look up from his book, “We need purer samples.” she stated, leaning on the doorframe and crossing her arms to look down on him in the sunken room.
Morndancer snorted, “And where do you expect to find them? We have the Firewyrm.”
Shaloon growled, not looking forward to having this argument again. “She is tainted. Her samples mix on a molecular level, and the spell that changed her…”
“She is our greatest success!” Morndancer slammed his book closed, turning wide, mad, eyes on Shaloon, “You don’t think I tried to make something pure? Something complete? Do you have any idea how many priceless samples and artifacts we wasted before creating something that could actually survive? They are the closest things we have to true-”
“And yet, instead of focusing on replicating them, we waste our time trying to breed the beast out of animals!” Shaloon shouted then cursed, pushing roughly off the door frame, “I have sent to the central Talon and requested pure samples. They will be here in a month.”
“A month…” Morndancer mouthed, then his face twisted, “You sent for them over a season ago and are just now telling me? Why not cut your way there yourself if you are that eager to split our efforts?”
Shaloon turned her nose up at that. She had been transferred here, to this frozen backwater Talon, because she was one of the few Archmages able to cut a hole through space and teleport through the outer planes. She had allowed the transfer because she'd wanted to experiment with this man. What a disappointment. He'd been the greatest mind in the central Talon, making the most substantial progress seen since the extinction. But he refused to continue that line of study, and was now starting to ignore the last fifteen years of experiments here.
“You won’t even let me use the wyvern. It’s been cloistered away in caves for the last two and a half years while you ramble about gods and Chosen…”
“I saw one, Shaloon!” he shouted, jumping to his feet and knocking his book to the ground. Shaloon gasped, rushing down the steps for the book. Picking it up, she held the priceless tome to her chest as if cradling a crying child. “The Talons must shift their focus,” Morndancer paced around the room in circles, talking more to himself than to her, “If there is one, then there will be more. The wyrms gave them the power to reach across the planes. They will be the key. The children will create their own brood…”
Reverently Shaloon placed the book back on its pedestal and turned for the door. Morndancer had finally tipped over the edge. It was the inevitable fate of anyone who exposed their minds to the type of magic they studied. And he had reached deeper than any other. The human mind wasn't meant to converse with the forces that granted their power. She would fall too, eventually.
“But until then…” she turned back to the pacing Archmage, “The samples will be here in a month, escorted by Journeyman Karlo,”
Morndancer finally looked up, "Karlo will never advance past Journeyman, He's halfway to the Outerplains already."
Shaloon smirked, "Aren't we all?" and left the lab.
***
Veon-Zih cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders while he stood in line at the docks. Waiting patiently to present his papers to the guard signing off on the passengers disembarking from Oane. A second guard passed him, heading for a wagon to inspect the goods. The enlisted men looked tense, going through the papers and goods with more focus and efficiency than they usually would, A Paladin officer hovering over them, his hands clasped tightly behind his back and silver armor gleaming in the sun.
Veon-Zih smiled at the Paladin, handing his papers to the enlisted but speaking with the knight, “As much as I appreciate your inspired diligence, Sir, this would go so much faster if you didn’t have them checking and double-checking each signature three times over.”
“Proper procedure is key in keeping us safe, Mr…” he trailed off, looking toward the soldier who flipped to the front of the Monk's massive book to show his name, “Vee… ohn… Zee… ha?”
Close enough, “That it is good Sir. Carry on.” there was no point in arguing with Paladins over proper procedures. Even when it hampered efficiency.
Behind him, the wagon driver shifted nervously as the soldier began asking questions while perusing his trade logs. “I, um… Mr. Karlo?” Veon-Zih glanced over his shoulder as the driver stuttered. The portly man breathed an audible sigh of relief as a second man hopped from the wagon and addressed the soldier. This man was tall, or at least appeared to be, with his head stretched high and back held too stiff, his long straight robe seemed to give his slender body further length. But strangest was how he moved, in snaps and jerks, his head twitching back and forth as he spoke in a whisper to the guard.
“That’s not at all suspicious…” Veon-Zih muttered, taking his papers back from his own soldier and stepping out of the way of the line. Those who had gone before him had already disappeared into the port city, and those behind moved forward to take his place, passing the wagon to reach the free guard.
The driver had the unmistakable look of a merchant, with pouches lining his belt and his guild's badge displayed on his left breast. He should've crossed the straight to Clearhelm many times over as an apprentice before going solo. And yet, he'd stuttered nervously and deferred to his passenger, who was clearly not of the Merchants Guild. Most likely a Mage based on his robe's lack of a religious emblem.
Veon-Zih narrowed his eyes at the strange man as he passed over his papers. The book was nearly as thick as his own, though it bulged with the thickness. Either the Mage hadn’t updated the cover despite the increased pages or…
Veon-Zih cleared his throat, getting the Paladin’s attention, and gestured with his chin towards the wagon. The Paladin looked him over for a moment, his brow furrowed, then glanced towards the wagon. He had no reason to trust Veon-Zih but Paladins were not ordinary soldiers. If there was reason to worry, Hengist would urge him to look for the signs.
The guard shifted his weight just enough to turn his back to the Paladin before opening the book. Veon-Zih sighed, watching the man move. He wasn’t just turning pages. His arm pulled too far back rather than to the side. Most likely slipping something into his coat. The Paladin might not have been able to see, but he'd already caught the scent that something wasn’t right here and started forward, placing his hand on the guard’s shoulder.
“Everything seems to be in order, Sir…” the guard had a superb poker face, a sure sign he'd taken bribes before. He handed the Mage back his papers and turned to wave the wagon on.
Veon-Zih stepped forward just as the Paladin held out his hand to stop the driver. “Headed for the Mages Guild, perhaps?” Veon-Zih asked curiously, trying to sound innocent.
The Mage twitched violently, turning stunning purple eyes on Veon-Zih, “Yes. Very important samples…” he spoke slowly, as if he needed to consider each word before saying them out loud.
“Then why not take a gate?” Veon-Zih chuckled, “I’ve been across this fine kingdom of Daanlan many times over, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wagon carrying Mage goods…” he tapped his own impressive book of papers against his leg, demonstrating his experiential authority on the matter. “What about you, Sir Knight?” he asked the Paladin, ceding control back to the Temple representative.
“Your papers,” the Paladin ordered, holding his hand out for the Mage's book. The Mage nearly vibrated with the speed of his twitching. The driver blanched but swallowed, keeping silent. Though it was his wagon. The Mage handed over his papers again, but then the Paladin added an order to the soldier, “Open the crates.”
The Mage’s eyes bulged, as the soldier he'd bribed moved towards the cart. Veon-Zih and the Mage both stared as the guard climbed into the wagon, opening the nearest crate without removing it. He nodded at the contents then closed the crate again. He had definitely accepted smuggling bribes before.
“Hold, good man…” Veon-Zih called. The guard glared at Veon-Zih, and the Monk grinned. If looks could kill…
“Sir.” the guard said indignantly to the Paladin as though the knight should be offended that Veon-Zih had inserted himself into this business. The Paladin, however, just frowned, waving the man down and nodding to Veon-Zih. Something in the knight's gut insisted that the Monk was to be trusted, and Veon-Zih’s grin widened as he approached the wagon.
Digging past some bottles labeled "griffin blood", he found what was making the driver so nervous, “Scales… dragon scale.” a nearly impossible-to-find, and highly restricted, magical component. Their owners having gone extinct millennia ago.
The Paladin growled, “All of you will come with me. Now.” he snapped the papers closed, shoving them under his arm and turning on his heel towards the Temple.
The Mage hissed like a snake, his arms coming up and black fire shooting from his splayed fingers toward the Paladin’s back. Veon-Zih grabbed the side of the wagon, swinging around it and sliding along the ground, he kicked the Mage's feet out from under him. The Mage tumbled backward, his fire barely licking the Paladin’s blue cape before going out.
The Paladin turned, reaching for his sword, but the Mage had blinked, disappearing before he hit the ground and reappearing ten feet away. “Damn magic users…” Veon-Zih jumped to his feet as the Mage began to chant, his arms becoming wreathed in shadow.
The guard who had inspected Veon-Zih’s papers drew his short sword and started for the Mage. A good man. Stupid. But his heart was in the right place.
Tentacles sprouted from where the Mage’s arms had been, twitching and writhing with the same jerky movements of the man himself. Veon-Zih sprinted forward, trying to close the distance and distract from the guard.
The Mage attacked, sending one tentacle out to strike Veon-Zih, who ducked, throwing his arm up to deflect the living whip. It shouldn’t have hurt this much. Veon-Zih blocked the pain, rolling forward. He needed to get to striking distance before…
The guard screamed, flailing his sword and cutting right through the second tentacle. As if made of smoke, the tentacle broke and reformed behind the swing, smacking the guard solidly on the head. The guard’s helmet flew off, and he dropped to the ground, clutching the side of his face. The skin between his fingers was black and blistering with red pustules.
Veon-Zih reached the Mage, striking up at the man’s chest as he stood, smacking him with the palm of his hand and knocking the wind from his lungs and spell from his lips. Lifting his foot high into the air, Veon-Zih slammed his heel down on the Mage's shoulder, sending him crumbling to the ground.
The Mage hit the stone hard, some of the cobbles breaking loose and flying into the air. His tentacled arms continued to writhe, whipping back and forth behind Veon-Zih, attacking the prone guard again as if on their own.
The Mage laughed. Giggled like a young child, his head lolling to the side, eyes staring at nothing.
Veon-Zih was forced to dodge a tentacle again, this time careful not to touch it. His arm still stung where it had burned through his clothes to reach his skin. Veon-Zih gauged the power needed to knock the man out without killing him. The Temple would want to question him. His fist hadn’t yet hit when the Mage screamed and thrashed. Veon-Zih turned to see the Paladin, sword drawn and glowing with a brilliant blue-white light, standing between the Mage's tentacles and his fallen guard. On the ground at his feet, twitched the end of one tentacle before dissolving into smoke.
The second tentacle whipped forward, thrusting like a spike to stab the knight. But the Paladin calmly cut through it, channeling the divine power of Hengist through his sword to split the tentacle down the middle. The Mage screamed again, then went quiet as Veon-Zih bopped him soundly on the base of his skull.
***
Shaloon burst through the door to Morndancer’s private rooms. The magical door made of starry night slammed into the wall and rattled the mirror across the way. “Something’s wrong.”
“Of course something is wrong,” Morndancer said absently, scratching the chin of the otherworldly pseudodragon draped over his wardrobe, “The world is being reborn, and all we can do is watch.”
“No.” she didn’t have time for his new nihilism, “Journeyman Karlo, we need to find him.”
Morndancer, for once, didn’t argue. He moved to the mirror, placing one hand in the center and holding his other out to Shaloon. She fished in her robes, pulling out a small jar, and upended it into his palm. A piece of flesh flopped into the Archmage's palm, and he closed his fingers around it, chanting softly.
The image in the mirror wavered out from his fingers as if made of water, and when it calmed again, they saw two men on its surface. A Paladin and an old man in lowly peasant garb with a shaved head. “It’s him…” Shaloon whispered.
Morndancer was more focused on the Paladin, “He’s been captured. What do they know…”
The Paladin held his helm under his arm and seemed to be watching them as he surveyed Karlo. “That was like no arcane magic I’ve ever seen before, Master Veh-oan-Zith. What kind of Mage casts spells like that?”
The Monk’s lip twitched in the merest hint of a smile, but it disappeared a moment later when he covered his chin with his hand, stroking it in thought. “The Warlock kind good Sir…”
“That’s enough,” Shaloon said with a sigh. Morndancer nodded, opening his hand and holding the lump of flesh out to her. Her shoulders slumped for a moment, another researcher lost… She draped her fingers loosely over Karlo's flesh and, with a word, set it alight with black flame.
***
“A Warlock, Master Monk? In Clearhelm?” the Paladin sounded horrified. Veon-Zih wished the knight would try and say his name again, just to add a little bit of levity to the solemn moment.
“I’m afraid so. This will be the third time I've faced one, and their magic is not one you forget,” Veon-Zih answered.
The twitchy Warlock was restrained in the center of the room, eyes open but mind far away. It appalled the Paladin how easily the man had almost gotten away with smuggling into his province, doubly so now that he knew the nature of the man’s magic. “He will be questioned thoroughly. Would you like to be present when-”
The Warlock screamed, struggling against his bonds. The Paladin reached for his sword and Veon-Zih dropped into a fighting stance but both had to shield their eyes a moment later as the Warlock burst into black flames from the inside. His eyes shriveled and burned, the flames licking out the sockets and catching his hair alight as his mouth continued to scream forth black fire.
The Paladin recovered enough to begin chanting some kind of healing or disenchanting spell but not fast enough. In mere seconds, the Warlock’s arms fell free from their bonds as they dissolved into ash, followed a moment later by the rest of his body. Leaving only the scorched chair, loose chains, and a pile of ash where once the man had been.
***
“We don’t know how much they learned,” Morndancer stated, turning accusing eyes on Shaloon.
Shaloon looked away, “They won’t find us.”
“You’re right.” Morndancer turned his back on her, “We are leaving. Make the arrangements.”
***
“They're still here then…” General Rasnah stood, looking out the window of her office towards the setting sun, clasping her wrists behind her back.
It had taken Veon-Zih a few weeks to reach Smilnda from the port city of Gehdran, though Rasnah had received the report of the Warlock incident much sooner, the same day in fact, through the Mages Guild mirrors. “Any new information?” Veon-Zih asked, moving to stand beside her. He'd returned to visit Shon in Hamerfoss, but would delay if necessary.
“No,” Rasnah sighed, “I've sent word to my counterparts in Oane and to the kingdom, we are trying to trace the man’s papers and cargo, but it will take time. They've covered their tracks well, probably have been for years.”
“At least thirty…” Veon-Zih muttered, turning away from the window and Rasnah. He took the seat in front of her desk with a road-weary sigh. “Why is it, my dear Rasnah, that you must tease me so?” he asked playfully.
Rasnah managed a laugh, “What?”
“Almost every time I come to Smilnda, something exciting seems to be brewing and then,” he snapped his fingers, “gone. We haven’t heard anything of these Warlocks for over five years, and just when I start to give up hope, bam, wyvern! I don’t suppose you killed it while I was away?”
Rasnah snorted another little laugh, finally turning away from the sunset and taking her seat behind her desk, “Please don’t remind me of the wyvern. It's been two years with no sightings, and Daunas still hasn’t stopped asking to hunt it with every report.”
“Does he want to avenge his father that badly?”
“How is it vengeance when Mung killed that one himself?”
“I wouldn’t think someone Daunas’s age would still be seeking glory…” Veon-Zih stroked his chin in thought, “He’s not much better than you 'retired' lot.”
Rasnah leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers together, and finally gave him a real smile, “He works harder now than he ever did on the road. Us too, truth be told…”
“If you’re trying to convince me to join you again, you’re doing a very poor job of it,” Veon-Zih said, returning her smile. He didn’t want to return her mind to the serious issue at hand, but her’s wasn’t the only mind it was plaguing, “Now we have more Warlocks… possibly the same group. Are they going to disappear again? How many years before Smildna decides to dangle a true adventure under my nose once more?”
“Perhaps it’s a sign, my old, old... ooold friend. Perhaps these are adventures for the next generation.”
“Pah,” Veon-Zih waved that idea down as fast as he could, “I would rather not leave a mess for those coming behind. Besides, they aren’t ready.”
“They get closer every day, V. Don’t blink. As soon as you do, Shon will be Oath Sworn and off to hunt wyverns and Warlocks of his very own.”
Veon-Zih leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “How’s he doing, Rasnah?” It had been a year and a half since Shon had transferred to Hamerfoss for training. Veon-Zih had tried to visit at least once a season, and the jumps in his skills seemed outstanding. Yet something still nagged at the back of Veon-Zih's mind. Was he still disappointed the boy hadn’t chosen the Monk path?
“You’re headed there next, see for yourself,” Rasnah answered shortly, though she also pulled a drawer open.
“Humor me,” Veon-Zih said, but she already was. She didn’t even have to look for the folder, showing him clearly she'd been ready for this very conversation. Before they'd been distracted by internally combusting Warlocks.
She didn’t pass over the file, such breaches of privacy were strictly against protocols, but she did leaf through it herself. “He gets top marks in combat, particularly with ambidextrous weapons and anything that requires finesse over brute strength. His lecture grades are also high, though he struggles with decorum and etiquette. His armor scores are honestly abysmal. Though I’m not sure the blame for that lies with him…” still facing the paper, she glared up at Veon-Zih with just her eyes.
“Well…” Veon-Zih rubbed the back of his neck under that accusatory stare, “He won’t have a problem if ambushed in the bath…”
That got another little snort of laughter out of the Paladin, who closed the file, “If you want anything more personal, you'll have to ask him yourself.”
Veon-Zih nodded. He just hoped Shon had made at least a few real friends since his last visit.
***
"How?" Veon-Zih gaped open-mouthed at Shon while the other Squires tried to stifle their snickers around him, “How did you get injuries from dancing?!”
Shon let go of his dance partner’s hands, and the boy stuck his fingers under his arms as if to warm them from a winter chill. Weary blue eyes turned to Veon-Zih for only a moment before Shon looked away, his cheeks pink. One cheek was bandaged with a thick square of cloth taped in place. His rolled-up sleeves showed the ends of more bandages on his right arm, and he flinched as he rubbed his ribs nervously. Were those hurt too?
“Well, Squire? Answer the man…” Daunas called from a bench against the wall of the fortress courtyard. The Weaponmaster leaned back, his hands laced behind his head, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He maintained that dancing was for nobles and Paladins and wasn’t the one giving this lesson. Though he'd chosen to come watch regardless.
Shon mumbled something inaudible then turned away to resume dancing. His partner shook his hands out before reaching for Shon, but Daunus called out again, “What was that, Squire? Something about you taking hits on purpose?”
Shon’s eye twitched, and the boys around him tried to smother their laughter, “I won, didn't I?!” Shon called to the Weaponmaster, who snickered. The boys stopped laughing at that. They were the ones he was defeating.
The Paladin giving the dance lesson, gasped, “Squire, push-ups. Now.” Shon saluted sharply and dropped in place to perform the punishment for his rudeness. Daunas laughed louder. “The rest of you get back to work. One two, one two, leaders, don’t let your followers take control. They had their turn earlier…”
Veon-Zih made his way to Daunas’s bench, plopping heavily down on it, “The Cleric?” Veon-Zih asked the Weaponmaster, who was still smiling, though he had closed his eyes to take in the sun while it lasted. Autumn was right around the corner.
“We told him last week they weren’t going to heal anything he could've prevented himself.” Daunas explained, “Your boy has a nasty habit of taking a non-fatal hit if it means he gets the win. Which he always does. But it’s a bad habit.”
“Stubborn…” Veon-Zih muttered, watching Shon jump back to his feet to resume the dance lesson. His partner flinched at Shon's touch but started to dance without further complaint. The boys spun in well-timed circles, some stepping on feet, others pulling a little too hard, but mostly doing well. Shon had the steps down perfectly but looked stiff, like a golem going through programming. Not really feeling the music flowing from the open box beside the teacher still giving the count.
“He’s your boy." Daunas snorted out another laugh at Veon-Zih’s expense, "Sure he’s not a blood relation?” The Monk chose to ignore the insinuation and seeing he wasn’t going to get a reaction from Veon-Zih, Daunus continued, “He really is a great fighter, but he’ll need to be better with plate if he wants to keep taking hits like that.”
“You can hardly move in plate,” Veon-Zih argued, annoyed. Daunas just shrugged, so Veon-Zih leaned back with him, resting his back on the curtain wall’s cool stones, “How about everything else? Has he opened up at all?”
Daunas sighed, “In his own way. He doesn't -not- get along with anyone, and the others seem to like him well enough. But he’s quiet that one, would rather watch and listen than participate during free time, and that's assuming he's not outside practicing! He’s started helping the ones that are falling behind in combat training. It works out. He hardly uses the time he gets off anyway, and before you accuse me of taking advantage, it was his idea. I asked, and he said if they needed extra training, he might as well join them. But before you get too proud, their friendship outside the extra practice seems the same as all the others.”
So nothing had changed. Veon-Zih sighed, was there even a point in wanting Shon to make friends like a 'normal' boy? This was his normal, and if he was happy, then why encourage something different? "I suppose if it isn't harmful..." Veon-Zih whispered.
The hour bell sounded, and the Paladin closed the music box, leaving the deep rings to fill the suddenly silent air as the Squires all snapped to attention. He waited until the last bell faded before calling “Dismissed!” Almost as one, the sixteen boys sagged in relief, laughing and joking with one another as they began their first hour of free time before dinner.
Veon-Zih pushed off the wall and started for Shon. The other Squires smiled and waved or saluted greetings towards him, and he smiled and nodded in response, his feet never wavering from their path.
“Damn Shon, I swear you’ve gotten colder…” Shon’s dance partner said with a smile, rubbing his hands together. Shon just shrugged, and the boy laughed, “See you at dinner then,” before he rushed off to join some of the others heading towards the fortress proper.
Shon turned, then, spotting Veon-Zih, looked away again. Reaching him, Veon-Zih crossed his arms and arched a questioning eyebrow, waiting for the young man to look up. Shon was almost as tall as Veon-Zih now, just a few more inches, and he would overshoot his Master. That didn’t stop him from sounding small as he muttered a soft “Sorry…”
“Are you really?” Veon-Zih asked, keeping his eyebrow up.
Shon looked up, a stubborn glint in his ice-blue eyes, “They never know what to do when a blow actually lands. It ends the fights fast.”
“So you end one fight, but what about the next? Or the one after that? How many little blows do you think you can take before you fall?” Veon-Zih didn’t yell, and Shon would've heard it all from Daunas already, but it was different coming from his Master. He ran his hand through his hair, cut regulation short so not at all in his face, looking truly ashamed for the first time.
“Sorry…”
Veon-Zih sighed, taking Shon by the shoulder, “Don’t be sorry, be better.” Shon just nodded, so Veon-Zih gave him a little shake and a smile, “What about life in general? Still enjoying the military?”
Shon’s smile was as small and subtle as ever, but to Veon-Zih, it lit up his face. Shon nodded, “It’s easy and organized. I wish the Church had been so structured. As long as everyone does what they're supposed to when they're supposed to, it’s perfect.”
Veon-Zih threw his head back and laughed. By the time he looked back down, Shon was staring at him, his eyebrow arched in question. “Shon… you were born to be a Paladin.” Veon-Zih answered.
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Thank you for reading.