Hi everyone,
I wanted to share my experience and hear your thoughts.
I am a cis (hopefully) woman in her early 30's, lesbian who was a tomboy growing up, until puberty. While growing I was (a bit) made fun of because of my deeper voice and not super girly / feminine features & behaviours (wanting to play football / having male friends). I was couple of times mistaken for a boy which led me to a big distress / anxiety and thinking / deep wish that "i would rather be the most unattractive girl than be mistaken for a boy".
The constant "you are like a boy", "you look like a boy" (also coming from my family in a rather accusatorial manner) left some unpleasant memories but i eventually grew out of them (i thought). Until i was 19 or 20 years old that problem did not really exist for me but then i moved to another country and stared my studies.
I worked in a bar in a queer area and despite that bar not being queer, it was next door to a place which was mostly ran and attended by transgenders (absolutely no phobia here it just to highlight the context of the neighbourhood). Because of that bathe area in general a lot of women including me were a few times (often for fun) misgendered, yet it happened to me way more often than to others. For me it was mostly because of my voice and height and sharper features, for my other female (and i would never question their identity) colleagues, i am not even sure what caused it. This happened so many times that while i denied and repressed that memory it created my social anxiety.
I do want to mention that after my tomboyish phase in childhood i considered my appearance as a regular girl (not super feminine with nails done + hills though:). I enjoy activities related to both genders, i finally feel good in dresses, i like to feel attractive and overall embrace my feminine "energy". While these gender conforming aspects sound silly, i was happy as i struggled with feminity in addition to accepting that i am a lesbian.
I recently realised that most of my life, wherever i would go i would be afraid that someone thinks I'm a man or transgender because of how i look and sound, i would sometimes be afraid to go to the bathrooms, afraid to use my voice as it's too deep. Of course me being misgendered rarely happened (maybe 5-10 times in the last 10 years). Now on top of that when someone addresses me as a girl or miss i immediately feel the "relief" as being misgendered hurt me quite a lot in the past and would hurt immensely if it happened right now. I want to be honest and do say that if i don't put effort into my looks i could look a bit androgynous, which i try to accept and stop wishing for more feminine features as i always did.
How my ocd started?
I was having one of my compulsive episodes and was googling "how can i be more feminine", of course one of the posts that popped up was a transgender forum or a reddit thread, from there it went downhill. From me fearing to be mistaken for a man i started to worry that i actually am a man. It started in november during a rather stressful period with work, went away and now while im having a burnout it came with even stronger strength.
There are moments when i laugh about it but there are also moments of a racing heart and me thinking that im denial, that im not comfortable with my pronouns and even my body. Even though my only fear and worry before was to have more feminine features/aura. I often have a voice in my head saying "you are a man" and that voice looks like it's always on the back of my mind. I try to imagine myself as a guy and seriously cannot, that thought gives me a lot of distress and worry and anxiety but also that maybe im in "denial". I do not even know how to tackle it, because despite my features and voice which weren't really up to me i can't think of one reason why i should be a guy nor i know how one should feel like "a guy". Still the thoughts are very distressing until they pass.
And then on days when i feel good about myself, im not stressed, i dress up for dinner or parties, wear makeup and jewellery and feel attractive i want to laugh at the thoughts that couple of days before seemed so real.
i was wondering if anyone struggled with such a train of thoughts? I am in therapy, was diagnosed with ocd and anxiety before and struggling with worries and fears about so many topics. Because every other topic resolves, my brain jumps to this one because i know that i can never know 100% as it's my inner dialogue, not a problem with a deadline at work or a doctor's appointment that will eventually pass. Lastly, my current therapist said that i do not have ocd (i have not discussed that issue in detail with her because of shame), which made me even more anxious as before i rationalised my thoughts as TOCD.
Thanks:)

Hi everyone,
I wanted to share my experience and how sometimes it resolves while like now it stays for a while.
I am a cis (hopefully) woman in her early 30's, lesbian who was a tomboy growing up, until puberty. While growing I was (a bit) made fun of because of my deeper voice and not super girly / feminine features & behaviours (wanting to play football / having male friends). I was couple of times mistaken for a boy which led me to a big distress / anxiety and thinking / deep wish that "i would rather be the most unattractive girl than be mistaken for a boy".
The constant "you are like a boy", "you look like a boy" (also coming from my family in a rather accusatorial manner) left some unpleasant memories but i eventually grew out of them (i thought). Until i was 19 or 20 years old that problem did not really exist for me but then i moved to another country and stared my studies.
I worked in a bar in a queer area and despite that bar not being queer, it was next door to a place which was mostly ran and attended by transgenders (absolutely no phobia here it just to highlight the context of the neighbourhood). Because of that bathe area in general a lot of women including me were a few times (often for fun) misgendered yet it happened to me way more often than to others. For me it was mostly because of my voice and height and sharper features, for my other female (and i would never question their identity) colleagues, i am not even sure what caused it. This happened so many times that while i denied and repressed that memory it created my social anxiety.
I do want to mention that after my tomboyish phase in childhood i considered my appearance as a regular girl (not super feminine with nails done + hills though:). I enjoy activities related to both genders, i finally feel good in dresses, i like to feel attractive and overall embrace my feminine "energy". While these gender conforming aspects sound silly, i was happy as i struggled with feminity in addition to accepting that i am a lesbian.
I recently realised that most of my life, wherever i would go i would be afraid that someone thinks I'm a man or transgender because of how i look and sound, i would sometimes be afraid to go to the bathrooms, afraid to use my voice as it's too deep. Of course me being misgendered rarely happened (maybe 5-10 times in the last 10 years). Now on top of that when someone addresses me as a girl or miss i immediately feel the "relief" as being misgendered hurt me quite a lot in the past and would hurt immensely if it happened right now. I want to be honest and do say that if i don't put effort into my looks i could look a bit androgynous, which i try to accept.
How my ocd started?
I was having one of my compulsive episodes and was googling "how can i be more feminine", of course one of the posts that popped up was a transgender forum or a reddit thread, from there it went downhill. From me fearing to be mistaken for a man i started to worry that i actually am a man. It started in november during a rather stressful period with work, went away and now while im having a burnout it came with even stronger strength.
There are moments when i laugh about it but there are also moments of a racing heart and me thinking that im denial, that im not comfortable with my pronouns even my body. Even though my only fear and worry before was to have more feminine features/aura. I often have a voice in my head saying "you are a man" and that voice looks like it's always on the back of my mind. I try to imagine myself as a guy and seriously cannot, that thought gives me a lot of distress and worry and anxiety but also that maybe im in "denial". I do not even know how to tackle it, because despite my features and voice which weren't really up to me i can't think of one reason why i should be a guy nor i know how one should feel like "a guy". Still the thoughts are very distressing until they pass.
And then on days when i feel good about myself, im not stressed, i dress up for dinner or parties, wear makeup and jewellery and feel attractive i want to laugh at the thoughts that couple of days before seemed so real.
i was wondering if anyone struggled with such a train of thoughts? I am in therapy, was diagnosed with ocd and anxiety before and struggling with worries and fears about so many topics. Because every other topic resolves, my brain jumps to this one because i know that i can never know 100% as it's my inner dialogue, not a problem with a deadline at work or a doctor's appointment. Lastly, my current therapist said that i do not have ocd (i have not discussed that issue in detail with her because of shame), which made me even more anxious as before i rationalised my thoughts as TOCD.
Thanks:)

Hi everyone, I recently hurt my left knee while doing a standing quadricep stretch last week (weight on left leg), I lost balance and tried to correct myself, I then heard a loud cracking sound from my inner left knee.
I am still able to put some weight on my leg, extend and compress my left leg with some minor to acute pain. I also get some minor muscle spasms around the quads on-top of my knee
I went to the physio ASAP, they did some stretching and cycling work, had some acute and dull pain afterwards. they recommended and MRI as they thought it may be serious.
I got my MRI report back recently, here are the results:
Clicking sensation inside left knee following stretching. Acute pains and dull ache when touched. Localises the pain anterior and posterior to the left knee joint both medial and lateral aspects in accompanying patient's data sheet.
Technique: Axial, sagittal and coronal proton density with and without fat saturation and additional coronal Tl of the left knee.
Findings: Extensive abnormal intrameniscal signal change in the body and posterior horn of the medial meniscus, but it does not appear to breach the superior or inferior borders of the meniscus to indicate frank tear and it does not extend to involve the medial third of the meniscus.
Posterior root and meniscocapsular attachment posterior horn medial meniscus remain intact and normal. Medial compartment cartilage quite well maintained. Anterior and posterior cruciate ligaments intact.
Lateral meniscus and lateral compartment cartilage well maintained. Popliteus tendon and posterolateral corner structures appear intact. Tibial and fibular collateral ligaments intact and normal.Patellofemoral joint cartilage well maintained. Reasonably formed trochlea notch of the distal femur. Medial and lateral patella retinaculum appear normal. Slightly more than physiological amount of joint fluid. No Baker's cyst is seen. Insall-Salvati ratio 1 .1 and normal. Patellar tendon signal normal. No retropatellar or Hoffa's fat pad oedema is seen. Quadriceps tendon appears within normal limits.
Conclusion: No evidence of patellar tendinopathy. Abnormal signal in the body and posterior horn medial meniscus, more extensive than simple degenerative intrameniscal signal change, but does not breach the superior or inferior border of the meniscus to indicate frank tear. Might nevertheless be producing symptoms. No other potential cause for the knee symptoms identified.
By reading this report, I'm not certain if it's a strain, minor injury to the medial meniscus or something else and seeking further clarification.
I am a 27 year old male, 5'10 roughly 79kgs, a little out of shape. Weak core, tight glutes and hamstrings. Also weak lumbar back due to recent back injury.
Also seeking guidance, supplements and exercises to increase my chances of a optimal and quick recovery.
This has also taken a toll on my mental health as well as my recent back injury.
Appreciate any advice.

Trigger warning: self-degrading; comparing oneself, taking relationship with F/O at an extreme face value, controlling
I want to make it clear that I’m not (exactly) asking for help on this, I’m already receiving help for many things and I plan to for this, too. I just want to vent about my crippling feelings and outlook for F/O with a community that revolves around folks who have feelings for fictional characters and the impacts it has. Maybe someone else here can relate and feel seen or heard. Putting this on a throwaway.
“You’re not F/O’s type,” “You wouldn’t be the first choice,” “You know F/O wouldn’t love or get with you,” “F/O’s not real,” “Fanon > Canon F/O!“ “I love shipping F/O x canon!” Yeah. I know.
I’ve loved him for over a year. He’s the most influential and powerful F/O I’ve ever had in my young (16-18) life so far. He’s given me strength, something to care and love as profoundly as I do when I’ve lost hope in the real world from everything I’ve been through. Yet after all this time, all the changes I went through, I still am deeply, deeply bothered with almost anything correlating to him.
Does he have traits I never expected of him? I have mixed feelings on him. Specific headcanons? Annoyed. What about relationships with other characters? Especially implied feelings? My mood is ruined. He’s not real, he’d never love you the way you want him to, and you’d not be his first choice? (You’re inferior to him and any love interests or ships; they’re all better than you.) It can take me days to go back to feeling better. I’m sorry, but the lengths of impact it has on me goes beyond things I wish to dive deeper into; “bad” is an understatement.
It’s like I have an urge to go back to my old habits and control my partner, the relationship, other people. But I do what I can to resist; because that’s not right. Regardless, what’s left behind is this extremely painful, especially physically, hollowing feeling of sorrow in my chest.
Denying the reality that he’s fictional wouldn’t feel right. Him being fictional is what makes the relationship feel special unlike anything else. But being told, “he’s with you, now! You’re the one he chose. In another universe, you two are together!” Doesn’t help ease any pain. In my eyes and beliefs: no. He hasn’t chosen me, he’s not with me; he’s fictional. He literally can’t consent or not consent, tell me his real feelings about my situation, me.
Our relationship is 100% without a doubt, one-sided. It’s like dating a celebrity but they have no idea about you; like I’m some parasocial stalker. I am willing to believe that yes, there is a chance he’d chose me (due to some of his choices being player-oriented), but I wouldn’t be his first. Especially since he meets others way before me—a living, breathing human—that catch his eye in source. That is a fact. In my heart, I wish to treat him as if he were physical, but my mind knows it cannot deny the truth.
Any time I feel horrible about this, I just consume more of him to feel better. Greed, gluttonous, obsessed. Anything of the sort. I haven’t lost sight on why I love him as profoundly as I do, but jealousy and inferiority does, in a way.
Maybe I’m being too harsh on myself and have severe low self-esteem. Maybe I’ve gone too deep into escapism all my life. I’m probably projecting with a clouded mindset rather than remembering how he is as a person. But I want our relationship to be transparent for what it is in this universe, this reality. I’m sorry for rambling or for anything that was “too much said,” but I can’t keep any of this bottled for another year or however long.

It’s been 8 weeks since I was left by him for the 2nd time. Blindsided, totally out of the blue both times. No arguments, no struggles in the relationship, no signs. Nothing- as far as I was aware we were completely and blissfully in love and happy together.
He left me with the same bullshit surface level excuses as he did the first time. We have been together for years.
“I need to be alone” “You deserve better” “I can’t give you what you deserve” “I need to heal”
Blablablablabla, the list goes on. The first time he came back (a year and a week later) once I had started to move on - he promised he was ready, he was choosing me, choosing us, every day. He contacted each of my family members to apologise for his actions, to apologise for the pain he caused me and all of us. That he would communicate with me.
Though this 2nd break up isn’t as hard as the first in some ways. As the first time I lost my home (because we lived together), I lost my car (because going to live alone I couldn’t keep a big fancy car) I still feel a whole massive fucking amount of pain. Unfortunately, we had to have a termination of a pregnancy at the start of the year, due to some medication that he is currently taking that causes birth defects and we chose not to take that risk on the baby or on me. He left only a few weeks after I had stopped bleeding. Baring in mind, the whole time I was going through this and obviously was emotional he was telling me that WE will have our chance again, WE now know WE work, it will be in OUR future just this wasn’t the time for US.
Looking back, he was clearly triggered, it scared him. He ran. The fear of growing up, having a little life to look after.
I am 30 next month. This is far from what I would expect my life to be like. I have a good job, a beautiful home, a car, the full works- but this second break up with someone I love completely with every part of myself and the termination has completely knocked the wind out of me this year.
When we got back together, it was incredible. We were better versions of us, which shocked me because we were amazing the first time. It was wonderful. He was (and despite this) still is an amazing man. He unfortunately suffers from childhood trauma like myself- but when he gets triggered he runs, legs it, drops me and literally detaches himself from me to prevent him from looking inside and seeing what the root cause is. I know exactly what it is, he has told me numerous times that it scares the shit out of him how much I know him and sometimes I know him better than himself.
The whole year (and a week) we were split up the first time I had this deep deep knowing he was coming back. And he did, despite everyone around me basically calling me mad because I was so sure of it. This time, I feel exactly the same. I know he is coming back. When, I don’t know. But he will.
Whether or not you believe in attachment theory or not, I know he is an avoidant. DA to be exact. I won’t go in to every single thing to why and his actions, but he is. I am in therapy, and I spoke to my therapist about it (she also specialises in attachment issues) and she had told me I hit the nail on the head with what I think. I refuse to bash him or any one who has this attachment style - but I just wish he could see why he does the things he does, why he gets triggered, look inside himself and the answers are there.
This has been long, I could keep going but I will stop. To be fair I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I suppose for some release. To tell some strangers on the internet what I’ve been going through. It’s shit. I hate it. I’m just in a whole lot of pain, and I’m terrified of the time that is being lost between us. That my body is ticking. And so on.
If you managed to get this far, thanks for listening to me yap and getting some of it out.

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Ceele strolled through the damp grass along the outskirts of the village, a spring in her step and the dwindling scent of dew following behind. It rained yesterday, which had prevented her from going out to gather supplies, but the mild morning air had been accommodating enough for her to get an early start and make the trip. She was glad she did.
One hand clutched her new prize to her chest, while the other held a fraying wicker basket filled with herbs and some edible roots she gathered by exploring the forbidden forest. Despite her reservations regarding where she chose to go, her excitement now lingered like a steady thrum of shifting stones, giving her energy that defied how long she had been walking. She all but pranced beneath the burgeoning night's sky, gleefully toeing the line between the dirt pathways of the settlement’s outskirts and the trees of unclaimed land. Normally, her path back home would never be so close to the village, but she was far too gleeful to mind. She had come back with a sense of fulfillment and a rare object—or if not rare, then hopefully of great value.
It was hard to point to any one specific reason that she came across the orb. There had always been a ‘draw’ during her travels, urging her that there was something missing in her life, yet it was no more than a mild whim to walk in a particular direction more often than not. Once she reached this part of the continent, she was compelled to wander, never quite able to explain why she obliged the sensation besides having nowhere in particular to be. Even when she finally settled somewhere, it stayed in the back of her mind, suggesting that she was close to whatever would make the pit of vacancy go away. She ignored it, purposefully distracting herself with her work and responsibilities, yet that could only last so long. When she awoke this morning with plans to resupply, and all of her newfound spots had been picked clean by wildlife, she turned to the depths of the forest where she was warned not to tread. It was all too easy to follow the subtle tug in her chest through the loose justification.
The urge to be somewhere grew unbearable with every step closer to the forbidden area. That sense of having a direction she needed to go became stronger and stronger, until she was well into land long since forgotten. She came across an overgrown depression in the hillside, and was entranced by the foreboding image. Something about the cave just…beckoned her. She was far too weak to resist.
Horrible tales echoed into her ears as whispers of fearful voices, warning and unending, yet but a dull drone compared to her hammering heart. She navigated the trees and brushed aside unkempt vines, stepping into the cavern with a mix of expectation and trepidation, then laid eyes on the small obsidian stone perched atop a crumbling pillar. The feeling of needing to travel somewhere…stopped.
The pull was absent, which was why she held the orb close instead of placing it into her basket. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she recalled overheard tales of hidden gemstones, deep cavernous expanses, and the untold terrors that lay within. Comparing the scenes of those fables to the cave seemed foolish now; it wasn’t some torturous chamber, but a dusty depression in a small hillside. Besides, anything this pretty was sure to be worth a fair sum, and she needed the coin. Yet the thought of selling the precious-looking stone was a conflicting one. She shook off the thought for the time being, turning her attention back towards where she was going.
Shadows stretched and faded as the moon stole the last of the illumination afforded by the sun, replacing it with a calming glow that caressed the log frames and thatched roofs of various homes. A star-filled sky came into prominence as clouds lazily drifted away, revealing the promise of tomorrow’s fair-weathered arrival. It was too late for anyone to notice her treading on the edge of their town while lost in thought, but she was still careful not to get too close to the houses or livestock pens where people might be finishing the evening’s duties. It was best that they didn’t see her returning from a place she was told not to go. Still, her feet carried her near the dwellings as she took in the noises.
Ceele enjoyed the comforting chatter from a distance. Indistinct words floated freely. Meaningless gossip and warm goodbyes were exchanged between friends and family. Places of various occupations were dark and quiet, only the faint contented mewls and clucks of livestock coming from their pastures as they ate what was recently put out for them. No metal rang throughout the streets as it was struck inside a centralized smithy, no heated bartering came from an overactive trade house, and the crunch of dirt beneath transport or merchant wagons was absent, replaced by the rapid steps and yelps of children rushing to their homes before it got too dark out. It was all just gentle conversation and life drifting through the wind, taking the rustle of leaves along for the ride, just so she could hear it. Tranquil, in a word.
She wondered what it would sound like if she were yet one more voice within that crowd of kindness. Would it be loud like the larger cities? Would she struggle to maintain a thought with so many stray topics floating about? Would she once more yearn for the peace and quiet of solitude that she had grown used to, or would she immerse herself, free of judgment and laughing like the carefree young that scampered about? Did thinking about it even matter?
Her smile fell from its genuine intensity—still worn, but not as fully. She glanced downward as her stride lost its jubilant bounce, her tail losing its sway as her grey eyes examined the dry black scales that adorned her body against her wishes. It was the ugly hue of tarnished oil, unlike the skin of any other kobold she had met. Some had reds or greens, yellows or whites, while most were between a sandy tan or earthen brown. The rainbow of peculiarities was displayed by the lucky few, and she was one of them…
…Yet she was different in the worst of ways.
Even if she would rather any other colour, she supposed it was that way to make sure no one came near without accepting the unspoken risks. That was what her mother always said, anyway, though the woman hardly feared much of anything in her old age, and dedicated herself to giving her offspring all the love she had left to give—a perk of living a full life. She would always help her daughter bathe, complimenting the colour of what most were unnerved by. That was more than a decade ago now, however. Ceele’s parents had passed on while she was still young, and she took to travelling not long after, working at what she could to afford what little she needed. Never for long, though—just enough to get to the next town between where she was and where the urge to go lay. There were certainly moments she looked back on fondly, but the journey had taken its toll.
The crude material of her ‘dress’ was coarse, old, and heavy, but it helped ease the worst of spring's chill—even if it was more of a modified sack than proper attire. Still, it was all she had after the last of her clothing fell apart, and giving the repurposed material a name that reminded her of something else made it less uncomfortable to wear, somehow. It would have to do until she could afford a pitying seamstress or the like. Until then, she would pretend she didn’t look so desperate, even if it only highlighted her status and made finding work difficult.
But it did. The dishevelled garment was a far cry from the wonderful silks or breathtaking designs she had seen some women wear, harshly marking the distinction between herself and those of affluence. The clothing of commoners was also a leap in style and quality, so she couldn't say her attire was up to even modest standards. No matter how hard she squinted, and no matter how much she fantasized otherwise, she seemed every bit like the vagrant she was, down to the soil embedded in the curvature of her claws and the stains throughout her fabrics. She looked like a serf from the more oppressed lands, yet they too wore crude cottons, which said a lot about how she appeared to those who had never lived a life of servitude. It was obvious that she was an outsider. That she didn't belong amongst the rest. It made changing something as simple as her appearance all the more difficult; prospective employment always saw a young woman who seemed more likely to steal or swindle than make an honest day’s living.
There was one good twist of fate in recent memory, however, and she came upon the result of it after leaving the slowing bustle of the village behind. Her steps carried her through a small copse of trees on the outskirts of town, the small shaded path leading to the back of a large, carefully pruned clearing, a scattering of fruit-bearing trees providing even darker shadow than the already dim moonlight. She skirted along the aging fence on the border that kept predatory animals away, carefully hoisting herself over the barrier where a large vegetable garden she was responsible for tending resided. If one were to tell her she would be living in such an area several months ago, she would have smiled politely and walked away, yet here she was.
A modest, warmly lit home occupied the middle of the clearing, sitting front and centre when one approached from the village path. It looked quite cozy, surrounded by berry bushes that were just beginning to bloom as the last dregs of winter slipped away. A front patio displayed a nice table and well-loved chairs, the rustic appearance only adding to its charm as a place where friends and family spent the warm summer afternoons. A smithy to the left of the house functioned as an additional heated building during the colder months, but usually served as a storefront and to muffle the sounds of hammered iron, though that had become less common. An old stable was nearby, close enough to be accessible, but not so close as to disturb the once occupying animals with sounds of iron craft. It hadn't seen a horse in quite some time, apparently, so it was mostly a workshop for whatever tasks didn’t require fire or metal.
There was a long history attached to each little detail—from the scuffs along the wooden siding to the depressions in the ground where daily routine wore into the earth. Every fault suffered throughout the years was matched by a thousand quirks that made it feel welcoming, like the house itself was merely waiting for the next friendly face with one of its own. She knew that the inside of each building would look just as cared for.
Her concern lay outside, however. It was a comparatively miniscule space just barely visible through the sheltering trees, true, yet it was where her efforts turned into tangible results, and where a stranger’s trust was painstakingly repaid. Once overgrown grass had been laboriously trimmed, the weeds plucked and disposed of, and now nothing distracted from what she could claim she had done.
The small plots of rock-bordered soil had little buds of growing vegetables, a sense of pride never failing to bloom in her breast with the knowledge that it would be barren without her touch. When her troubles and concerns grew heavy, and fears of the future or spectres of the past loomed over her head, she could look at where she had brought life where it wouldn't otherwise be. Some days, that was enough. She smiled in appreciation at what was admittedly amateur work, the night’s sky helping to hide any inevitably made mistakes.
She enjoyed the sight for a moment longer, then turned to walk towards a neglected old tool shed that was well out of sight within the trees, far away from whatever warmth and comfort the larger house offered to everyone and anyone. She put a hand on the degrading wood of the entryway, giving one last sad smile at the garden as she dismissed selfish thoughts of taking the eventual harvest for herself. A breath cleared the uncertainty from her voice, and she pushed open the door.
“I'm home!”
= = = = =
It took a while for Altier to adjust to his situation, and even once he accepted that his mana wasn't being siphoned, he was still reeling from confusion. He had spent centuries with every year passing by without his notice, yet now he was painfully aware of each creeping second languidly dragging on with the expediency of growing grass. It was as disorienting as it was painfully nostalgic.
Time was something he was never good with, and it only got worse as a dungeon. He'd get lost in creating rooms, corridors, creatures, and whatever else needed doing, only pausing to watch or listen to the few adventurers he became interested in. There was a stint where he spent what felt like hours agonizing over new abilities or options while he let the system manage things in the background, though he supposed it might have been much longer. So many wasted days, yet he still hadn't managed to try everything he had gained access to. Some abilities were simply too niche, came with concerning titles, or held descriptions that made him wary. Anything with ‘Decay’ in the name was instantly ignored—he didn't need more reasons to fear his affinity, and from the few he took the effort to read through, they were always vile.
But his existence for the moment was no longer like those endless stretches spent pondering the minutiae of what would help his adventurers grow stronger. Now, he could follow the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and steady breathing that set a calming pace. They were someone else's, yes, but they contextualized how easy it was to slip away without the subtle noises of life that he had long since surrendered to help his family. Of course, there were more differences that he noticed since being removed from his crumbling cavern, and his sight was the newest change.
He never gave much thought to how far he could see before. Why would he? As a man, his world extended as far as he could fathom, yet was also confined to the room where he spent his days, and as a dungeon… Well, who was he to consider distance when an event happening miles away could be seen with a flicker of thought? Nothing was too far when it was within his creation. Or his ‘body,’ he supposed. Sadly, his entire perception currently consisted of the small sphere of his obsidian core, and maybe a finger's length beyond it—which is to say, not much. He could make out the fine details in the dirty burlap he was held against, and how pale moonlight slowly took over the blurred reds of sunset, but hardly anything more. It was all just frosted colours after a certain point, and he found it infinitely frustrating. He just wanted to peer beyond the haze and scaly hand holding him to confirm that the sky he remembered was still there. Alas, the sunlight faded at too quick a pace, yet one oh so agonizingly slow.
The ensuing darkness gave him nothing to do but think about where he was, not that he had any ideas. He was too curious about why he wasn't dead to bother much with his blurry surroundings after the soft-spoken kobold abducted him, thus why he only belatedly noticed how limited his worldview had become. There might have been a forest beyond his cave, but the greens and browns were gone, and the sounds of steps through brush was replaced by the distant din of a village. An idle curiosity pondered if he would recognize any descents of his ‘family tradition’ adventurers there, but he was being carried by what most considered a monster, so likely not.
That short musing was short-lived, however, and he brought his focus back to the matter at hand. He supposed he was being taken somewhere specific, but that was an obvious deduction, considering he was taken at all. The why of the matter was less so; for what purpose would someone want a Decay-aligned core? He hadn’t heard of them before…well, before he was made into one, but he couldn’t imagine many uses. Maybe he was being sold? His…kidnapper? His sudden companion seemed rather pleased by their discovery of him, so that might be the case, and it was morbidly amusing to think that a frail, sickly young man might one day become a coveted, highly valuable item. His abduction could also be a part of some cult’s nefarious activities, but he didn't want to think about that too hard. He experienced enough odd ceremonies from the adventurers who took the time to tell him their tales.
Either way, he wasn't in the dungeon anymore, and he couldn’t see where he was going. He tried to query his menu to glean an answer, but was met with a scrambled mess he suspected read ‘Synchronizing…’ and little else. It gave him a headache trying to make sense of it—which he didn't know was possible anymore—so he dismissed the text and distracted himself with blurs from whatever diluted senses he still had. There wasn’t much to observe other than the constant footfalls and the flicker of shadows on his companion’s burlap garment. They might have travelled through brush again, but it was too dark to really say for certain.
Eventually, there was something new. He heard an old latch rattle and rusted door hinges groan, then a shuddered clack that confirmed he was now in a building. His kobold acquaintance gently cooed at something before moving about the nearly pitch-black space, finally setting him down on a… He wasn’t sure what it was, besides old and wooden.
[D$#@m$n E@$*ded]
The headache from before became a blinding migraine that suffocated him under a flash-flood of suffering. Seconds passed in abject torture until it blissfully abated, the mental blinks clearing his mind enough to notice a change in his existence. Specifically, he could actually see something besides the rotting wood grain he was placed on top of.
And it wasn’t anything promising…
He was more or less in the centre of a room no bigger than twelve paces by maybe ten. Not a terrible size for a space, but it was clearly never meant to house someone. His resting place looked about as neglected as he surmised; it was an upturned feeding trough, he supposed, since calling it a table seemed too generous. The surface was rife with holes and degraded iron, so it was something that once saw regular use before being replaced and tossed into storage, never to see the light of day again.
Actually, most things in the room seemed to fit that description. The window shutters were installed with metal hinges that had since rusted them closed, the misalignment letting in a draft—and whatever weather was outside as well, most likely. A poorly carved bowl sat on the floor, the stain beneath it hinting that it collected any rainwater that slowly dripped from the leaky roof. The wooden floorboards looked old, splintered, and in need of maintenance or replacement, though an effort had been put into abrading it somewhat smooth lately.
A tiny and decrepit fireplace was to the left of the door upon entry, its brickwork slowly crumbling due to weathering and age. It was sized more for keeping the room warm during mild days than to keep away the frigid chill of night. Its base only held cold ashes, but there was a collection of deadwood and scraps nearby, so that would probably be rectified soon. A small wheel-less cart had been turned into storage against the opposite wall, some herbs and other foraged items stowed away in it for future use. Various things he remembered seeing his father and brothers use in the fields were scattered about, too. It was nostalgic to see, honestly, even if his recollections had blurred over time.
Bundles of tattered blankets formed a pair of nests in the far corner, the smaller of the two had a pile of rough plants nearby. That answered his silent pondering of the room's purpose somewhat, though he was pretty sure the bedding material was salvaged, and there didn’t seem to be any hay or padding underneath whoever was sleeping on it. He didn’t know what to think about the weeds; they were purposefully placed there, and whoever did so had taken the time to wash them, but it was still strange.
He couldn’t see a doorway besides the entrance, yet most of the hallmarks of residency were put where space could be afforded, however crude. All in all, he surmised that it was a gardening shed of sorts, and his new acquaintance apparently lived here. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when a creature he had only read about came into his dungeon, but it wasn't being brought to a rundown and decrepit shack for unknown purposes.
Even if he had been raised by parents who made a humble living at the best of times, and they had emptied their coffers for unsuccessful attempts to ease his ailments, his acquaintance's living space made him uncomfortable. His family's house was never anything fancy, true—it shared some of the worn qualities that inevitably gathered over the years—but it was never this bad. His home benefited from a father's touch keeping it robust and a mother’s love keeping it warm, whereas this place had seen neither in quite some time. Oh, there was evidence that such was once the case; a wall was adorned with carefully made and well-spaced hangers for the various gardening tools, though the implements themselves had become a victim of neglect. That being said, he could make out the fresh soil and recent scratches exposing furrows of silver, so they were seeing use again.
A scrape and clack of flint drew his attention to his kobold companion. They were kneeling in front of the fireplace, methodically sparking life back into a dead flame with twigs and dried leaves. A slow, steady breath into the reddened base illuminated its face with a dull orange glow, revealing its weary visage and the permanently etched smile that rested beneath its cold grey eyes. The black-scaled kobold looked tired, if he were to guess—much the same as Altier did when he spent countless days watching everyone living a life he could never have through the mossy window of his bedroom. He was probably humanizing it too much. Still, he was surprised by the muted pang of sympathy, and how he would feel much more than blithe curiosity after spending so much time alone in the crumbling crypt of his own making.
A mental breath cycled through him as he looked at the odds and ends yet to be observed. Hardly anything else was of note—everything else was degraded and neglected, too. He did notice a nest of blankets move though, which was as good a distraction as any. The answer to his previous ‘pile of weeds’ inquiry poked a tiny nose from a crease in the fabric, then rapidly pawed at the blankets to dig itself out. Altier stared at the creature in both recognition and confusion.
It was a rabbit…or at least it looked like one, assuming you were to also describe a porcupine and a sea urchin as well. He was pretty sure he didn’t remember any hare that had jagged metal-tipped fur, nor that had said fur arranged into a row of spiked horns that flowed down its spine, terminating at a large fluffy tail, which was equally bizarre to see. The whole of its coat could double as a weapon, with semi-sharp barbs sticking off seemingly at random, yet he remembered an adventurer saying most animals used that sort of thing defensively. He increased his focus as he tried to make sense of the odd creature. Surely he would have heard about—
[Hoppittttttt#%%÷ — Ferro-o-orabbit-it (Ma%$le)
Abil—]
[Null]
[Er0Rrrrrrrr—]
[Und#$f—]
He bit back the pain caused by the sudden intrusion of his menu, blanking out the text and mentally retreating to hide from the source. Did he just inspect something? How? Shouldn’t his entire…‘framework,’ was it…? Yes, that was it. Shouldn’t that have been corrupted? Why could he see the creature’s information when his entire framework was damaged? That was the first ability he lost, so why is it the first to be functional? How was it functional? Was it? It did just spit garbled text at him, but it was something, and that was more than he had gotten from it in a very long time. If it was somehow working—no matter how poorly—then that left the question of why he hadn't heard of anything called a ‘ferrorabbit’ before, assuming he read that correctly.
A soft thud vibrated the tro— table, startling him out of thought. He turned his attention to the button nose wiggling erratically at him, the short, stubby muzzle leading to surprisingly expressive and curious red eyes. Dull brown fur jutted off in random tufts and patches, changing to a darker tint on its paws and the upper half of its ears, while the tips of its spikes were a muted hue of iron. It still seemed just as soft as the less pointed variety he remembered, if a touch dirty. Upright ears twitched this way and that way as its head vigorously shook, eventually settling on pointing in his direction when it calmed down enough.
It was apparent that he had its undivided attention…for all of a few seconds. His scaly companion called something out in their foreign tongue, and whatever conclusion the pointy-furred animal came to, it seemed more interested in the kobold, parting from him after nudging his core with its nose.
[Cre-e-e—]
[Errrrrrr0r: Undefiiiiiiii—]
[Acceeeeep-t-t-t??]
[Yeeee— s s / Nnnnnnn—]
He winced at the intrusion, but the contents detracted from the pain. He couldn’t remember the system ever asking him a question without his explicit intent being involved. It wanted him to…accept something? Was it the system prompting him, or the animal? What was he to accept?
[Creatuuuuu—]
[Acce-e-e-%#@ed!]
…What?
= = = = =
“Hoppit, that's not food!” Ceele admonished half-heartedly, placing a larger branch on the burgeoning flame before she got to her feet. She wasn’t actually that worried; the stone was as big as his head, and she was pretty sure he couldn't bite into it. Hopefully. “Come here, momma has a treat for you!”
The ferrorabbit playfully bumped the gemstone and jumped off the low table, landing with a soft thud that belied how heavy he was for his tiny size. He wiggled in excitement, his ears flailing and releasing a slight clack whenever the two connected. It got even louder when she grabbed her basket and put away the useful herbs, taking out a specific item that she had gathered just for him. The little bun wasted no time in scurrying over and standing tall on his hind legs to judge if the offered plant was to his liking—and it was, based on how he dug in with enthusiasm. She stifled a laugh as she contentedly watched him nibble away on the treat, ignoring the guilt that came with knowing she couldn't afford proper vegetables for him. He had a hard life too, and it tore at her to have so little to give.
She came across Hoppit a year ago, during a storm that worsened while she was travelling between towns. The day had darkened to night in spite of it still being about noon, but the weather didn't care for how bright it was supposed to be. Wind and rain became a typhoon, forcing her to seek shelter in a thankfully abandoned den of what was probably a larger animal. She was fine with waiting out the squall, since the stone roof over her head was more than she usually had back then, but the sounds of dull bangs and thuds near her hideaway was followed by cries of animals yelping in pain. Curiosity won over reason, and she left the safety of her shelter to see what was causing the disturbance. Truthfully, she was hopeful that she'd come across scraps or the like, her hunger driving her forward, and she could always turn back if it seemed dangerous. Yet when she arrived at the source of the commotion, she found herself thinking of anything but food.
Two predators had fought over a small burrow, both trying to dig out a meal and taking offence to the other doing the same. What they didn’t know was that they were assaulting the home of ferrorabbits. Specifically, the home of an angry, protective, and well-fed mother that was keeping her newborns safe from the storm when predators decided to try their luck. From the scene Ceele came across, it was certainly obvious why most people dislike trying to hunt the creatures.
Sadly, the rabbit didn't survive an attack from two predators, but she did make their victory pyrrhic; neither could do much about their hunger with their bodies full of cuts and holes, and it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to blood loss or infection. The mother's sacrifice meant that the babies had avoided the imminent threat, but they were left unattended as a consequence, and it took an opportunistic bird swooping down to shake Ceele out of her shock. Despite her subsequent hurry, she only acted in time to save one of the orphaned young. The warren was new and barely dug out, which meant that it didn’t take much effort for the kits to be found—by both her and hungry maws. All she could do was scoop the ball of fluff into her arms and run back to the cave before anything else tried to eat it.
In retrospect, it was a stupid decision for a number of factors. She barely had the resources to supply herself, and an attempt to raise offspring of any type would only make the inevitable heartbreak worse. But when she saw how quiet and scared he was… How his tiny, shaking body calmed in her arms, those terrified red eyes seeking comfort… She should have just walked away when she knew there wasn’t going to be anything to fill her stomach. She should have put the baby animal down and let nature take its course…yet the preciously furry face stole her heart far too quickly for it to grow so cold. The next day was spent backtracking to the nearest town to get him something suitable to eat, which used most of her meagre savings. Still, it was worth every coin.
Hoppit had been accompanying her ever since. He grew quickly, transitioning from something she saved that stormy night into a presence she had grown to love like a child. The little lagomorph would bounce along beside her during her travels, then ride in her arms as he rested—though the latter happened with worrying frequency as of late. She hadn’t learned much about the springy herbivores, but she knew enough to say that he wasn't as big as he should be, nor was his fur as sharp. No matter how startled he was, his spiky coat never managed to do more than stiffen slightly, which was apparently a side effect of poor diet, according to snippets of conversation she had overheard on the topic. She wanted him to be healthy, but she didn't know what he needed. Not many farmers raised ferrorabbits, and those that did were far away, so she didn’t have anyone to ask what she should be doing. Her best course of action was to give him what little she had.
Ceele was well aware of how he would be better off on his own, but he followed her whenever she tried to set him free. Hoppit just kept launching into her arms and wiggling his ears, ecstatic that he was with her again, uncaring that food was scarce and that they spent most of their days travelling. No amount of cold nights spent bundling up under the tattered blankets she managed to find ever dampened his spirits, and he was content to eat the grass or flowers whenever he felt like it, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t getting enough nutrition. He would dig and excitedly drag back oddities that he found, and the one time he found a plant that looked particularly good for him, he insisted that it be shared with her.
A black pit still lingered in her chest when she recalled how pleased he was while he munched on the rare vegetable he discovered, then how distressed he became when she wouldn’t have any as well. He bumped and nipped at her, all but begging her to eat. His ears pinned back against his head, his fur bristled in a way she hadn’t seen since. It was only when she took a small bite and let him inspect the new teeth marks that he seemed to calm down, but perhaps she had been looking too deep into the actions of her tiny friend. All she could say for certain was that he was scared she was going hungry.
A morbid thought wondered if his first mother had refused food shortly before being attacked, and he—as small and simple as he was—had connected the two events in his mind, making him absolutely terrified that something would happen if Ceele didn’t have something too. All of that fear, and desperation overwhelmed him, just because she was happier watching him eat. She was determined to erase that issue. She would find something that needed a worker and earn enough to feed them both. One day, she would be able to smile at how big and healthy her little fluffy boy had become, but until then, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think about how she was spending so much time growing vegetables and fruit that he couldn’t have…
Every morning was an exercise in tending to the gardens while actively shoving down images of a pleased ferrorabbit happily eating the results. That never went well; no matter how determined she was to complete her duties without a single selfish thought, most tasks were done while picturing his full belly and delighted bounces. There were a few weeks until the fastest of the crops would be ready for harvest, and Ceele would have to collect them while fighting the urge to bring back just a few for him.
She couldn’t, because she knew exactly how quickly that could escalate. It would start small—A vegetable here, a fruit there—but seeing Hoppit happy was one of the precious few good things she had in her life. Crossing the line would only become easier each time. They couldn’t risk losing their new home over greed, and she was already betraying the trust given to her by housing a wild animal, especially one known to be a pest for crops. She didn't want to know how angry it would make her benefactors if she was caught taking their vegetables for one.
No matter how tame and precious Hoppit was, and no matter how well he listened, they would only see him as the same creature that ruined harvests in droves. Thus was why she had to tell him to stay cooped up by himself while she was working or scavenging. And to her surprise, he did.
Honestly, she had made the initial request with the expectation of needing to carry him back into their home until he understood that she wasn’t leaving him forever. There wasn’t much she could do to stop the ferrorabbit from digging through the old wooden building if he wanted to get out. He wouldn’t need to damage anything either—a rotting board on the door only needed a little push to nudge it out of the way, and his natural curiosity made sure he was aware of it. But no, Hoppit was well-behaved as always, keeping hidden until she walked through the door, where he would leap from the shadows to personally show her how good he was and how he stayed put like she asked him to. It never stopped amazing her that he had such a surprising level of understanding despite being an animal, and that was to say nothing of how young he was.
All that intelligence, joy, and companionship he offered her…and yet the best she could give back to him was the weeds from the garden and the odd plant she found while scavenging…
Soft clacks of flicking ears dragged her from her pondering, her mind returning to the present. Hoppit finished his treat of the small plant, then bounced in place and scurried over to his bowl of water, perfectly happy to have eaten only that. He was so joyful with how little she provided, approaching every day of scarcity with the same enthusiasm she could never muster, as if certain that everything would be alright.
“It’s bedtime, Hoppit,” Ceele announced through a soft sigh, stoking the fire with enough branches to hopefully last the night. The ferrorabbit perked an ear in her direction, then sat on his haunches to extend the rest of himself up, his two little forepaws adorably held to his chest as he inspected the room like he always did. She smiled and made sure everything was stored away, then laid down on her bundle of blankets, covering herself with the warmest one. Hoppit bolted over to snuggle once he decided everything in the shed was up to his standards, throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flop of comfort. Her quiet laughter subsided as they both settled in for the night, her tail completing the rabbit’s encompassing cuddle, but her eyes fell towards the obsidian orb on the table, her thoughts following suit.
It sat there, just as she left it, as benign as anything else ever placed atop the improvised furnishing. Yet there was a sense of ease and purpose as well. The old wooden trough seemed…important with its adornment firmly laid upon its surface, and she couldn’t puzzle out why. She was starting to doubt her earlier excitement.
Should she sell it? Would anyone know where it came from? Would anyone know what it was, or if it was worth anything? If she could get even a modest sum for it, she would be able to buy clothing, food, and new bedding. It would be easier to convince someone to give her work if she was dressed better and wasn’t so thin, and then she would have the income to slowly improve both of their lives. She could pay for a wandering merchant to ask a ferrorabbit rancher about the animal, even if it would take time to get back to her, or maybe she could hire a local if they needed to go near one for some reason. The cost didn’t matter to her as long as it happened.
But there was something else bothering her about the idea of selling the stone. She had travelled so far with a tug in her chest, only for the feeling of wanderlust to dissipate as soon as she held it. Was that a sign? She was never one for things like ‘fate,’ but a niggling doubt in her mind discouraged the idea of making a profit off her discovery. Even if what she could gain was so very tempting, and even if Hoppit would be happier if she did…
She tore her dampened eyes away and closed them, ignoring the burning trails running across her face. It would be another early morning, and she needed to sleep so she could take care of the garden. Decisions like this could wait. Once she had nothing else distracting her, and she had time to properly think about it, she would see how she felt about the stone.
Eventually, she dozed off with Hoppit pressed against her chest, and a longing in her heart.
Next
—
A/N: Patreon and Ko-fi will be 1 chap ahead this time around, and I've set it so everything from the lowest tier up can read the newest trashfire! Anything above that is sheer show of love. Hope you enjoyed!

Hi I just came across a novel, chosen by the moon novel by izabella W. Its on pay by chapter websites, I've opened and read a few chapters but I can't seem to find any free version or chapter version anywhere. Please help. If anyone has read it I'm willing to take spoilers. Here's the advert I found below of it on Facebook.
Lycanthrope species is a disgusting race. And I, Delan Riley, am nothing more than a human scum in their eyes never expected those species would turn my world upside down. Since when the lycans managed to penetrate our town, like in the early 1900's we have a hierarchy, upper class = the lycans, middle class = mated humans, and lower class = the normal humans, who were basically considered scum. I endured their torment day after day, vowing to run away from them one day, until that day came and everything changed.
Dylan POV "Humans," I scowled at the principal's words from tannoy. "The Alpha twins will be celebrating their birthday tomorrow, as such, festivities are in order." Oh great, the Alphas twin children. Adrian and Arya are the worst lycans alive. I swear just because they are the alphas kids they literally get away with everything. If their birthday is tomorrow, then the wolves are going to be worse than ever. "All students will be present to greet them, two lines will be made, with humans on the left and the lycanthrope on the right. Any mated human will be at the front of the line for their year, you will all also be in order of your school year. That is all." Chat broke out the minute the tannoy was finished. "We haven't had a school gathering since the alpha king visited three years ago, before his sons coronation." Nick was right, the last time we all gathered like that was for the king and queens visit, when he decided to let the world know that he was to renounce his title to his only child, son Josh. "That sick bestard, he wants to make sure everyone is there so those idiot twins can find their mates." Yes I was mad, my fists connected with the table in front of me once more as I thought about how disgusting the situation was. You see the twins will be turning 17, so it's very possible someone in our school could be their mate, finding a mate is sacred to a wolf, the minute they say that one word your fate is sealed. They will turn your mind, morph you into being a lover of their kind, and then you'll give in.

That won't happen to me, I'm growing old to see the world as it once was, and I'm going to choose who I'll be with. No one will take that dream away from me.

Once dinner was finished, I just wanted to sleep. I'd had a very long tiring day, I quickly sat down on a small stool my mother kept in the storage closet and removed my shirt while my brother Freddy sat at the table to do his simple homework. It wasn't long before my mother came in with a large bowl of warm salt water and some cotton, this was going to sting I just knew it. She was here to help me with the wounds caused by wolves yesterday. She slowly began to unwrap the bandage from around my torso and slowed down drastically when it came to the final layer, I felt it peel off every wound and my fists clenched in pain. "Jesus!" I heard my mom exclaim once the dressing was completely removed. The air on my back was nice though and I sighed as my arm covered my once again exposed brests. "This is more than 15!" I began to hear sniffles coming from her and sighed turning round to look at her face, only to notice tears streaming down it. "Mom I'm fine, it's alright." She shook her head. "It's not alright, I'm your mother I shouldn't let these things happen. I'm so sorry. Your father would have..." here she goes again. Every single time something happened she'd always bring up dad, it really annoyed me because no matter how much we all wish he was here, he just isn't. My father was kiled by THEIR kind, almost 5 years ago when they actually managed to take over. When the lycans managed to penetrate our town my father rose up with some people from the neighborhood, to defend our livelihood, it was futile to say the least. We lost many people and I watched as my dad was ripped apart by two fully shifted wolves, I ended up shoting him to stop his suffering before they dragged me to the courtyard, i was the person to receive the first lashing of the town when I was 12! The wolves have been pretty strict with me since that day. "Stop being stvpid!" Was I harsh? Definitely! Did she need to hear it again, absolutely. "Dad is dead, we don't know what he'd do because he never knew this life. He never knew this world." I know what he'd have done, most likely attacked the guy who held the whip and got himself kiled in the process. "The best thing you can do for me, is stop crying and help me, next time don't insist on helping if you can't handle it." She began to wash my open wounds with the warm salt water causing loud winces to leave me, I knew it was necessary to prevent infection, but my god it hurt like a betch. "Some of these are really deep Dylan!" She sniffed again and my eyes rolled in my head. "I told you, I'm fine, just wrap me back up so I can get to bed." My mom was obviously more impacted by my injuries than I was, I suppose that always the case though. When it's happening to you, you've just got to get through it but when it's happening to someone you love, you just want to take their pain away. She quickly placed a fresh bandage around my waist and chest and wrapped it tightly for compression. The bowl of water that was used was now red in color, I guess from the blood my back was dripping with. "Can you keep your head down please? At least just this week. You can't take any more lashings." I simply nodded before standing up away from the stool, I walked over to Freddie and ruffled his hair in affection. "Good night squirt." He giggled and fixed his hair slightly. "Night Dilly." I smiled walking upstairs to my little bedroom, as soon as I was inside i shut the door and flopped down on to my bed on my stomach and I took a minute to cry to myself at the pain in my back, what my mom did was important but it hurt, not that I'd ever tell her. My hand covered my mouth quickly to muffle any noise I might be making. I couldn't tell anyone, I had to be strong because more and more people were crumpling these days, and my mom would break if she knew how much I was suffering. Sleep followed me shortly after, she was right though about me needing to keep my head down for the time being, I could not take another lashing! After a long night and an even longer morning, we were all finally stood in the hallway at school waiting for the twins to arrive. "Mine!" Everyone that was stood in the hallway tensed up, as we were seniors, me and Nick were stood towards the very back of the human line. All the mated people were situated directly opposite their wolf mates in their years. We stayed silent and still as Arya walked down the hall and stopped directly in front of Nick. His eyes widened in fear, unsure of wether to look up or keep his head lowered. "Look me in the eye, mate." He glanced at me slightly as if asking what he should do. "I said, look me in the eye." He slowly moved his eye line up to look at her face. I took a glance myself to see her eyes pitch black with lust. "I... can't... I mean... erm." Before he was able to mutter anything else, two wolves from opposite, grabbed him out of the line and dragged him behind Arya. "Hey!" My head shot up before I could stop myself. My mouth also forgot its place as I jumped out of line. Everyone's head shot to me as my eyes widened in realization at what I'd done. Adrian, the other twin, walked up to me before punching me right in the stomach, I doubled over instantly. Feeling the sting in my slightly healed back. "I know you... You were publicly flogged only two days ago." God I hate this guy. "I also have it on good authority, that you openly spoke out against our rules and regulations in yesterday's class." My head shot down the line slightly to see Erin, looking a little frightened, her mate, the beta to be was looking at her, nodding his head in reassurance. "You traitor, you grassed on your own kind?" I yelled at her before feeling a fist connect with my cheek. My head whipped to the side from the force, while my class members gasped. I'm so done with this treatment, right then, I wasn't in charge of my actions. My fists curled up and my stance became a lot more defensive. My head snapped up to the alpha to be, and I looked him in the eye. "You don't know the meaning of the word disrespect." I suddenly hurled my fist towards his head, which he easily dodged, but my foot came up and kicked him instead. He stumbled backwards from the force with wide eyes. "You... you Actually hit me!" He didn't even sound annoyed, more shocked. Everyone in the hallway was watching, waiting for the alpha to do something but instead he simply stood up straight, regaining his composure. "I think everyone should get back to class." He began to walk away, following his sister when I called him back. "What about Nick?!" "Simple, He's my sisters mate. He now belongs to her." Argh, he's not an object. "He's not her property." A chuckle left his mouth, before turning his back to me again. "All humans are property." A short while later everyone made it to science class, our teacher Mrs Mathews is mated to the lycans pack doctor, she also now has a four and two year old with him. She was one of the first humans to be cohered into a false relationship. "What were you thinking young lady?" I rolled my head at her before looking at the empty seat next to mine. Nick was with that stvpid wolf girl right now. Being changed, I'm so angry it's ridiculous. "I was thinking, this guy is being a prick. Did you hear him? 'All humans are property.' It's bull shet." I looked up and the whole class looked at me like I had three heads. Talking shet about wolves is one thing, but talking about an alpha is punishable by death, attacking an alpha is an even worse offense. There was then a knock at the door and in walked Erin and her band of mated bestards. "Sorry we're late Mrs." "Erin, how are things between you and bata Monroe?" She blushed, the traitor actually blushed at the mention of his name. "He spoke to me last night about trying for a baby. We need a good strong boy to take over as beta." I scoffed looking at her as she took her seat. "You guys are actually pathetic, why can't it be a girl? Those mutts are basically Neanderthals" I voiced my opinion and saw all the shocked faces around me. Calling the lycans mutts, is the same as them calling us scum. After lesson had ended the entire school was called into the hall for assembly. This is where any human who has been found to have broken the rules were punished, usually 10 lashings were goven out or something similar. "Welcome to the school assembly, congratulations to the alpha twins for finding both your mates. Now on to the business at hand, as the 5 year anniversary of the new world is coming up, we have been informed that the alpha king will be visiting our district next week, this is very exciting news. We want you all to look your absolute best, she wolves and mated females will wear exemplary dresses made by seamstress. Male wolves and mated men will wear tailored suits. Anyone who doesn't comply will be reprimanded." The Alpha King?! No one has met him yet, he took over the throne three years ago when he turned 18. He really didn't make any appearances though, great, this month is going to be a nightmare. "As for the humans, you will be given a new uniform to wear for the visit, these are to be neatly ironed and worn to the highest standard. As for the following humans, based on your attitude this past week, you will be coming to the front and facing punishment. Tony summerset?!" Tony's head shot up as he looked around, he was in the year below but he shared my views when it came to the lycans. He slowly walked up to the front of assembly, almost instantly his top was t0rn in two and he received 10 lashings. A girl named Kara was next and she too received 10 lashings. A few more people went up slowly accepting their fate then suddenly my name was called. "Dylan Riley." Inside I was terrified but I simply shrugged my shoulders, I guess I did kind of expect this. Although I'm not sure if my back can take any more damage. "You attacked an alpha, correct!" His eyes bored into mine as I bowed my head submitting to his authority. "Technically, no." Everyone in the school gym looked on in fear, as my head moved to the front row of the wolf side. Adrian sat, with a werewolf girl in the year below, her name was Jana, I guess he found his mate. Nick and Arya were no where to be seen though. Adrian gave me a shrug as if to say he didn't tell, before smirking at my comment. "He hasn't officially taken the alpha title yet, so he's just..." i looked at the principle and noticed his eyes black and his claws out, he was in what lycans call a half shift, triggered when the subject has become angered. He turned to two security wolves and gave them a nod, Almost immediately i was forced onto my knees, my arm was slammed on a table and held in place by one wolf, while my body was held in place by the other. "Ok, I don't think this is needed, I have alpha blood, a stvpid human girl can't hurt me." My head snapped to Adrian who had stood up in front of the school to stop what was happening. "Nevertheless, humans need to know their place." With that the pressure on my arm increased as our principals hand pulled my sleeve up before a long claw punctured my skin. The searing pain shoting from the fresh wound had my eyes scrunched and my fist clenched, I bit the inside of my cheek hard instantly tasting blood, however no sound left my mouth. He continued to write, using my skin as a canvas and his claws as a marker, it went on forever, my vision blurred slightly at one point as I turned my head away. After minutes of torture, he was done and the pressure on my arm eased, instantly I snatched my arm away, hissing through my teeth at the pain. I was about to scurry off stage, when I was roughly grabbed yet again, my arm being held in the air by the principal while my feet were inches off the floor, blood dripped from the wound and the pattern he had made was on show for everyone to see. Loads of people gasped, even the wolves looked slightly horrified at what had happened. "This is what happens when a human decides to speak out. I can promise, anyone who so much as says one word about our way of life, will have the same punishment." My arm was starting to seriously ache from being held in the air for so long, and the lack of blood flow to my suspended arm was causing me pins and needles, still I refused to make a sound. I held the tears back and I bit my cheek harder causing more blood to fill my mouth. "That's enough Bradley!" Adrian growled, he was still stood up and looking at the scene in front of him. His eyes hard as he stared at the principal a low warning growl erupted from his chest which had the head teacher gulping, he quickly let go of my arm causing me to crash to the floor. A small cry left my mouth as I hit the hard floor. Immediately I scrambled away, my foot just missed the high step leading to the stage and I fell, waiting for the impact of the ground, but it never came. Two strong arms wrapped around me catching my weak body causing me to look up, my eyes widened as I noticed Adrian had caught my falling form. "This isn't part of the human punishment program!" Adrian growled causing me to tense in his grip, I pushed him away from me before fixing my uniform top. The room was deadly silent, taking in the scene in front of them, while I stole a glance at my forearm. Carved into my skin by his devastating claws were two words, words that would most definitely scar my body for life. 'Human scum' "Lessons must be learned, she received lashing merely two days ago, and clearly it had no effect on her." Another growl left Adrian's chest as he stepped on to the stage, I wasn't bothered though, you would think I'd be ashamed but I simply smiled slightly. I fixed my sleeve a little so it wouldn't rub on the fresh wound before speaking. "It doesn't matter," the whole room looked at me shocked by my attitude. "I would rather be labeled human scum, than have any resemblance to your kind. I'm proud of what I am, how many of you can say that?" After my amazing little speech, I walked right down the middle between the humans and lycans and out the door. No more compliance, I'm going to get away with as much as I can without getting into too much bother. There will come a day when the lycans power will fizzle out. When it does I'll be ready, I'll be waiting for the day we take our world back. As for the best part about my plan...

No one can stop me.

"Ouch, not so hard." I seethed as the school nurse cleaned my new wound with antiseptic. "If you had of just kept your mouth shut, this wouldn't have happened." I turned to my right looking out the window at the few clouds that were floating in the blue sky. "Like I said, I'm proud to be human, and now everyone knows what I am." I clenched my fist together as the nurse began wrapping a bandage around my forearm. It had been a good few hours since the incident in the hall, and I had been forced to come to the nurces office after I had tried to clean my wound by splashing it with water from the tap, it also refused to stop bleeding. "You are impossible. Can you please just try and stay out of trouble? For one day, that's all I ask." Our school nurse is a wolf, she's one of them. However she hates the way they treat us mere humans, she thinks we should all just live in peace with equal rights. Like that would ever happen. "All I've done is stay out of trouble, but you are just going to humiliate me anyway, so what's the actual point?" "The pack were discussing a public execution, Dylan. You need to walk on egg shells from now on, not just for you but for your family as well." No ones been publicly executed in over 4 months, I'm flattered they're considering it. They only execute people who they believe are the biggest problems to society. "Well then... I'm flattered." I chuckled, before looking at the patch job. 'Huh, not too shabby.' I quickly stood up from the human nursing station and pulled the sleeve of my shirt down covering the evidence of ever being hurt. "This is serious!" I just gave her a blank look before leaving the room. On the way out I heard her call back to me. "Please just think about it." I gave a clipped nod as I walked away wondering how I'm going to tell my mom about this. Later in the evening... "Dilly why you say that?" Freddie looked up at me with a mouth full of bread. "Don't speak with your mouthful!" My mom scolded him as a bashful blush made its way to his cheeks. "Sowwy mommy." His reply was muffled as he swallowed the last chunk of food. "I said it Freddie, because it's the truth. The wolf race are a pathetic excuse for..." my mom cut me off with an extremely stern look. "Dylan! They have ears everywhere, one more word out of you and it's your room." I scowled, my hatred for the Lycan kind growing stronger as each day passes. "What more can they do to me, lash me? Beat me? Brand me? They've ran out of options." I stated slamming my hands down, then severely regretting it as sharp pain shot though my wound. "What was that?" My head shot to regard my mothers worried expression. Her eyebrows were raised and her eyes were dull and judging as she looked at me. "Nothing, it was nothing." I quickly took my plate in my hand and began to walk to the kitchen. "I'm not really hungry, and I have homework to do!" My mom caught hold of my forearm causing me to drop my plate suddenly, I watched it slowly fall before shattering on the floor. I retracted my arm quickly and turned to Freddie. "Stay there and don't move until it's cleaned up ok sport?" He just nodded with wide eyes, I turned back to my mom and noticed her curious stare on my arm. Her grip shifted to the other side as she turned it around before pulling my sleeve up. The bandage was showing and a bit of blood was seeping though after the wound had been disturbed. "What the hel happened?" My moms eyes widened as she began to fumble with the bandage. Before she could unravel any of it I snatched my arm away. "I had an accident at school. No big." I began to gather the large pieces of the broken plate up ready to put them in the bin. "What did you do Dylan?" She looked at me with pure worry and only then did I realize what the wound must look like to someone who didn't know. "For gods sake! I didn't do it to myself! I got publicly punished at the assembly alright? It's no big deal." Her face dropped instantly and she stepped towards me, causing me to step backwards. "Mom, I'm ok. So back off will you." "What did you do? I've never known them to cut someone's arm as a punishment." Her shock and accusation was evident in her voice and I sighed heavily. "I spoke against the alphas son." I may have hit him too, but I wasn't going to divulge that part to her. "It's not one big cut, mom, it's a brand, 'human scum' carved onto my arm." "They've branded you now too?!" My eyes rolled at her hurt tone as I went to get the dustpan and brush. "You're so much like your father." A sigh left her mouth as she spoke, running a hand through her hair, while I quickly swept up the little pieces of the broken plate. "You've had a new uniform delivered. It's laid out on your bed. Dylan, Please just try and stay respectful in the future, I don't want my daughter to be completely mutilated. Although you're not far off." "Gee, Thanks." I then walked over to my little brother Freddy before blowing a kiss into his neck and hearing him giggle. "So sport, how's school going?" "It's ok." He shrugged before going back to coloring a dinosaur picture in. "Well that's good, stay out of trouble, ok little man?" Heading upstairs and into my room, my thoughts wandered to the permanent graffiti scar very slowly healing on my arm. Disgusting beasts. Think they own the world because they're faster, stronger and can shift. Pah. If you ask me they are not all that.

The second I walked into my room my mouth dropped open. On my bed was some grey pants laid out neatly, which wasn't the surprising part, no, what shocked me was the grey high neck no sleeved button down shirt, every single set of uniform had sleeves except this one. They've done this on purpose those, mutts. They want the world to see my arm and know what a disgusting creature I am. They want the world to know that I, Dylan Riley, am nothing more than 'human scum'.

During the last week, I've been horrible, in class I've been loud in voicing my views, I've insulted at least everyone to some degree, I didn't care about the consequences, and I certainly didn't think about them. I haven't seen Nick at all since he was claimed, and to make matters worse today was the royal visit. Oh yes, werewolves and mated humans alike were spending every waking minute preparing themselves to meet his royal majesty, king of the wolves. Unclaimed Humans however would rather stick pins in their eyes. "Dylan, get down now... you're going to be late." She was right, I was dawdling this morning, I really couldn't be bothered today, I gave myself one last look in the small mirror and sighed when my eyes met my newly uncovered brand. It had bad bruising around the letters, and was still extremely tender to touch, it was definitely healing now though. I made my way down the stairs and came face to face with my mother who was seeing to Freddie, she was helping my brother get his coat on when she turned to me. "You ready sport?" Freddie nodded his little head at me and smiled while I quickly slid my shoes on. "Just Remember, the alpha is bad enough, Dylan, please, please don't do anything to anger the king." My mother stopped us from walking out the door to tell me something she had been telling me continuously for the last couple of days, it was almost as if the entire human population of our district was expecting me to do something stvpid. "Try and have a good day." I rolled my eyes but nodded, even I know not to push the king, he could kil me in the hallway like it was nothing. In fact I plan on staying out of his way for the entirety of the day. "We will see you tonight mom." I stated before me and my brother began our walk to school, his little hand clutched my own tightly as we went. Usually Nick would be with us, as he lives next door, well he used to, now he's residing in the main pack house. I quickly dropped Freddie off at his school and watched him get the wolfsbane neutralizer before walking into him building giving me a small wave before he went in. With my new scar on complete show, and my figure being complimented by the skin tight shirt I was wearing, I sauntered down the street to school, I gave my name and year in and took the wolf's bane neutralizer injection with no problems at all. It was finally getting into school that the problem occurred. Walking through the halls I was met by many looks, some of pity some of disgust. You see every single non mated human in the school was wearing a long sleeved version of the uniform I was given. All the Wolves and mated couples were scattered around in fancy floor length dresses or tailored suits. As I turned the corner I noticed a couple, now this couple happened to catch my eye the most out of all of them because it consisted of Arya and Nick, eating each other's faces off. "What the hel!" Nicks head shot to me as his eyes widened. He too was dressed in a tailored suit, a navy blue tie hung on his neck to match Aryas dress. Why was this happening all the time? It's always my friends that get completely brain washed. I shook my head in disbelief before turning my back on him. I heard his fast footsteps behind me as I rounded the corner. "Dylan?!" He ran right in front of me, stopping me in my tracks, making me drop my bag off my shoulder and almost causing me to bump into him. "Let me just explain..." "Has she marked you?" I mean you could almost see it in his eyes, she had marked him, and knowing the way life goes he's probably even mated with her. "Actually... Don't even answer that." I aggressively picked my bag up off of the floor and stormed off down the hall. "Dylan, just listen to me, Erin was right, it's so hard to resist your soulmate, and Arya is actually ok once you get to know her." I just kept walking, he caught up to me walking beside me but it didn't matter, I completely ignored everything and everyone. 'I'm so not in the mood today' getting into class was good though, I said hello to Mr Foley and took my usual seat. Nick sighed then took his bag off ready to sit next to me, but I snapped before he had the chance. "Traitors and mated idiots sit on that side of the room." I didn't look him in the eye as I pointed to a seat right at the front of the classroom on the opposite side. His eyes widened as he turned his attention back to me. "You can't be serious Dylan." I gave him a blank look before grabbing my book out of my backpack, I placed it on the desk then began to write the date on the top line. "I've sat in this seat for as long as I can remember." I ignored him, his voice sounded sad and shocked. "Dylan? Wait! What is that?!" Before I could react Nick had grabbed hold of my branded arm and turned it to see the letters. "Oh my God! What happened?" I snatched my arm away from him and shrugged as I continued to write in my book before grabbing my water bottle out of my bag. "The principal happened, it was my punishment for speaking out against Adrian and Arya. I wear it with pride." He just held a complete look of disbelief. "You spoke out against them?" I shrugged, what did he think I'd do. "It's no secret that I despise this stvpid new world and the mutts that control it. You were my friend, I wasn't going to let them just take you without saying something, although that is exactly what you seem to have done. Enjoy the view from your new seat!" "Don't be like that, Dylan, I'm your best friend, I'm sorry about your arm, but..." my eyes rolled inside my head at my friends words. "Anything with the word 'but' in, isn't an apology, it's a rationalization." I took a drink of water from my bottle and kept my eyes facing forward, ignoring his every attempt to try and talk to me. "Dylan?.. Dylan?... Do you know what? Erin is right, if you push us all away you won't have any friends left." He huffed before walking over to the empty seat and sitting down, I could feel him glancing up at me every now and again but I didn't respond. "Good morning class, please settle down." He looked at me then at Nick and frowned, we've never sat apart, we were friends before the new world even began. I just shook my head telling him to forget it. "So... as you know the king will be arriving in a short while, but until then lessons will go on as normal." Its funny seeing teachers in the same uniform your wearing, mr Foley and his wife are the coolest. Human teachers and doctors only have slightly more respect than we do. Because of Mr Foley's status him and his wife have better access to food and drink, Mrs Foley is cool, sometimes she even makes sure mr Foley brings some in for me. Ya know, coz I'm their favorite student. It's not in a weird way, it's just they were friends of the family before the new wold took effect. Mr Foley and my dad were buddies from high school, so it goes without sayin really. "All the mated humans will be at the front of each years line again, after that you will all be placed in status, Nick, as your mated to Alpha Arya, you'll be at the front of your line. Dylan as you have been branded..." his voice trailed off as he looked at me. "Yeah yeah, I'll be at the back of the line behind everyone. I get it." I huffed, moving my sight towards the window once more. "I am sorry." I turned to face Mr Foley again, he looked genuinely upset and that look of pity wasn't something I wanted to see. I gave him a clipped nod then turned away again. "Anyway, on to the subject matter, 'Of Mice and Men, page 64, Nick why don't you start us off with the reading."

"Of course sir." Nick began reading the book but I switched off, today is going to be a long day. After almost an hour and a half of reading comprehension, the bell chimed signaling lunch. I shot up and out of the classroom before anyone could say anything. Today, I was avoiding drama like the plague.

I wandered the corridors straight to the lunch hall. All the people I would normally hang out with we're all mated so I grabbed my lunch quickly, and sat down at the end of the human table. Let me lay the lunch hall out for you. On one side of the room you have two long rows of tables, with simple benches that make it look like prison, on the other side of the room you have multiple round tables with fancy chairs. Yup you get it. The humans sit at the prison tables and the wolves and traitors sit on the fancy tables, they get fancy food, fancy drink and most importantly they get pudding. what I would give to have some pudding. "Dylan can we just talk?" Nick quickly took the spot next to me as he set his lunch tray down. I looked at his food which had been placed on a ceramic, circular white plate. God that looked good. I sighed knowing he was going to talk anyway. "Fine, you have two minutes." I used my fork to take a bit of pasta off his plate and shoved it into my mouth. God that was good. "After I left school, I was taken to the pack house with Arya, and I really got to know her. It took a few days for me to finally accept being with her, but ever since life has been ok, and the sax... well that's a whole other story." Eww, I didn't need that mental image in my head. "I'm glad your happy." I stated before deciding I had no appetite. His face held shock before he sighed in relief. "That means a lot Dylan, I mean you know that your opinion matters to me." I cut him off before he could say anything else. "I said I was glad your happy. I didn't say I approved of what you've done. You've basically turned into one of THEM, I can't ever forgive you for that." He looked hurt, but I couldn't care less about his feelings. He placed his hand gently on my arm and went to open his mouth when a growl sounded out. All heads whipped to where it came from, Arya was stood holding a glass of soda and a plate, she was looking right at me and Nick and I would totally be dead if looks could kil. Nick quickly retracted his hand, his whole face fell and you could see sorrow flood his irises. "You sit with me now, get away from that, that... scum!" Wow, Nick was such a lucky guy. NOT. "You heard her. Get away from me, go sit with your new friends. I'm happy for you, and I understand where your coming from, but don't come up to me again and pretend you didn't betray your own kind. Don't pretend you didn't betray me." I shoved a little bit of food into my mouth before standing up and walking out of the cafeteria, leaving my tray on the table. I was walking through the hallway to the classroom, you see I decided to spend lunch with Mr Foley in his room, when I happened to hear voices in the corridor. "Is it wise for her to actually be present when the king arrives? Surely she could be placed in the dungeons, it might actually teach her some respect?" My principal was speaking to the alpha of our district, huh, if I stayed and listened do you think they'd notice, maybe they could smell me?! "Everyone is to be present, if the Riley girl does one thing out of line she will be dealt with severely, child or not. That girl has been a blight to the district since day one, she's dangerous, if she puts one hair out of place I will personally break her into submission." Oh shet, they were talking about me specifically, and they mentioned the dungeon, that's not been used in months. Normally I would have listened in more but something about the entire situation didn't sit right with me, all of a sudden, I was on edge, and simply wasn't interested in the slightest in hearing how my misery was to be enhanced. I backed up slightly before turning around and bumping head first into one of the hottest man I had ever seen. I lost my balance immediately and fell straight on to the floor letting out a small grumble in the process. His eyebrows knitted together quickly and his breath hitched in his throat as he looked upon my fallen state and gasped. "Mate!" He whispered, his eyes fixated on mine. Now, I had seen and heard that many times to know what that means, I gasped before taking a step back. 'No, no, no, no, no. This can not be happening.' He growled slightly before stepping towards me. Oh Shet!

On Monday (4 days before the game) during training Farrell got a tear in his right quad.
They didn't know if he was going to be able play the match. He didn't train since Monday, didn't even warm up before the saints game.
And he still performed like that despite the pain and limitations! That's the most Owen Farrell thing ever. What a legend.
From the telegraph

Mark McCall has revealed that Owen Farrell played through the pain of a tear in his right quadriceps and was only confirmed to feature in the Premiership semi-final against Northampton Saints after the warm-up.
A 22-20 loss proved to be Farrell’s farewell to Saracens as he heads to Racing 92 next season, but not before a performance in which he helped set up both of his team’s tries and brought the visitors to the verge of an upset.
Bowing out with Mako and Billy Vunipola, as well as Alex Lewington, who marked his final outing before retirement with a try, Farrell signed off in typically defiant style. Initially, with his right thigh strapped, he had only used his left foot to kick.
“There’s a quite small tear there,” said McCall of Farrell afterwards. “He wasn’t going to kick at all during the match. He might have kicked with his right foot twice but he didn’t want to. His kick to [Juan Martín] Gonzalez was off his left foot.
“He wasn’t going to be kicking for touch or goal or drop-out. We weren’t sure if he was going to play, to be honest. He hurt himself on Monday and we weren’t sure he was going to get through the warm-up. It’s quite remarkable that he was on one leg.
“We’ve got a fly-half on one leg, which is probably going to affect your kicking game, and we were able to stay in the battle. It’s incredible for him to do that in his last game for the team.”
With Alex Goode also sidelined, Alex Lozowski, who had just recovered from an ACL injury that he sustained in November against Harlequins, had been earmarked as an emergency fly-half. Elliot Daly, meanwhile, stepped up to land two conversions and two penalties.
“It’s a fresh injury,” McCall added of Farrell’s ailment. “He hurt himself on Monday; he kicked the ball and went down. He didn’t do anything until the warm-up… he didn’t even do the warm-up.
“Normally he’s first out and kicks 100 balls and [today] he was in the changing room with Mako Vunipola, who’s always last out. Elliot Daly must be the best place-kicker who doesn’t practice. Alex Lozowski was going to play 10, but we backed him [Farrell].”
Heralding the “incredible” trio of Farrell and the Vunipola brothers, McCall admitted that his squad were “very emotional” as their title defence, and their decorated careers at Saracens, ended.
“Personally speaking, I feel lucky and blessed to have come here when they were here,” McCall said.

I know this accounts been inactive for several months, that's related to this post. Recently my brother 18m has become increasingly deranged over my use of prayer beads. It started a year ago when I suffered a nearly fatal accident and while in the coma got a vision for our Lord telling me that I must live. Afterwards I woke up and devoted myself to being Christian in the way christ intended. In this I got really into prayer beads and healing crystals because I still suffer from chronic rib pain as a result of the accident. My brother was, to say the least, unenthusiastic about my conversion especially since he is a firm catholic who thinks I delve too deep into idolatry. I have tried to convince him otherwise and to accept christ onto his heart rather than the gay pope but ever since we had that conversation he's been increasingly malignant. First he took down the healing Rune poster I had placed in our shared bathroom to help me achieve communion with Christ. He says that he didn't but I found its remains in the recycling. Then I discovered my crystals slowly disappearing which has disturbed my sleep and my spiritual well being as I find evil spirits are attracted to me by my faith. The last straw happened yesterday. I had spent the last few months building a naturalist shrine to God in our backyard. He was sabotaging my the whole way, first he broke my clay tablets I was casting while I was inside hiding from the heat. Then he switched the wood I was using for scaffolding which led to the shrine collapsing which fucking sucks. Finally on the day of completion I knew I needed to please the lord with some kind of ceremony. I read from my holy scripts i had written while possessed by the holy spirit. I originally planned to cast a copper statuette of christ (lacking facial features ofc, i hate idolatry which is another sticking point with my brother) however I knew he would probably ruin it in some way so in my passion I turned to our animals. We keep multiple animals, some for eggs, milk, honey etc and others for fun. I grabbed the nearest Rooster which was a black one called Guy Fawkes who was my brothers second favourite (how was I to know? Like seriously who keeps a list?) And then ran to get a kitchen knife. I'll admit I messed it up a bit, the knife I grabbed was one of those serrated ones because I thought it would be better for sawing through the next bone but it just mangled the neck. Worse still it didn't kill it so I tried to bonk it a few times on the head but it refused to shut up so I had to unceremoniously slam it into the outside wall of our house a few times to finally shut it up. Safe to say it was hardly a serene sanctification of the shrine. Anyway my brother discovered the shrine and more importantly Guy Fawkes and had a fucking fit. First he smashed the shrine which a sledgehammer which I thought was a bit mean, the shrine didn't do it. Then he ran into our room and started throwing all my prayer materials, healing crystals and other vital ingredients out the window. I ran in at thar point and we got into a heated argument. He was mad because I killed Guy fawkes, I was pissed he was disrespecting my faith and honestly I was sick and tired of dealing with his shit so I went to the stables and stayed there the night, it's fine my dad knows my fondness for equine companions so he built me a little hut right next to it. He left early today for his sheep shearing job and I found the holy scripts thrown into the wood burner along with the posters, crystals and hand carved figurines. Honestly I just wanna know from you folks if he is being the asshole here?

Hey everyone,
I am hoping someone can help interpret these results from an X-ray I had… little background: I was had back pain occasionally as a young kid (one time from jumping on a trampoline… which I went home trying not to cry it hurt so bad lol…) I was very over weight until my early 20s and lost a hundred pounds and got into super good shape.. was deadlifting 315 pounds etc (I know now it’s terrible for your back to deadlift…. No back pain for a few years… Then my back started hurting occasionally when doing squats/deadlifts…. So I stopped completely, kinda got depressed and stopped working out completely and gained a bunch of weight back (still not as bad as when I was a kid). It’s kinda just kept progressing to the point where it’s super tense when I bend over to the point that affects my everyday life and I worry about bending over… there has been times these last few years where my lower back (maybe my hip not sure) is so bad that I basically just lay on the floor in pity…. I feel like I’m too young to not be able to be active like I would like to be without back pain… I’m in my earlyish 30s and finally had it checked out and here are the results… any help/advice would be greatly appreciated!!
EXAMINATION: XR Lumbar Spine 2 or 3 views VIEWS: AP, Lateral, Spot CLINICAL INDICATION: Low back pain, unspecified COMPARISON: None. FINDINGS: 5 non-rib-bearing lumbar type vertebra. Minimal curvature visualized thoracolumbar spine convex to the left. Mild disc space narrowing/osteophyte formation L4-L5, L5-S1. No acute fracture identified. Trace retrolistheses L1- L2,L2-L3 and L4- L5. Sacroiliac joints appear patent. No osteolytic or osteoblastic lesions noted. IMPRESSION: 1. Minimal left curvature visualized thoracolumbar spine. 2. Mild degenerative disc space narrowing L4-L5, L5-S1. 3. Trace retrolistheses L1- L2,L2-L3 and L4-L5.

I was meant to go to an event today with a friend I haven’t seen in ages. Our last few plans had been cancelled due to them double-booking plans with other people and even though I was upset, I brushed it off, and they apologised and said that they didn’t want to piss off the other person they had plans with. I took a step back and decided to let them put the effort in to our friendship.
They called me this week and asked me if I wanted to go to this daytime event/festival today. I said yes, I was really excited tbh. They can’t stay out past late afternoon because they’re working early tmrw and also they were going for a few drinks the night before, but nothing big and even suggested we meet in the morning. I texted last night to confirm and still good, but pushed back meeting by an hour. I woke up to texts from late last night/this morning saying they basically felt rough and asking to push back again a couple of hours and meet mid afternoon.
I just feel like cancelling because I honestly feel pissed - the best bits of the event will be over by then, they’re going to be hungover, we won’t have as much time before they have to go, and if they’re tired/hungover they’ll likely leave earlier anyway and it’s annoying me because I know they absolutely 100% are not expecting me to be annoyed or cancel. I get that it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re having fun, and 9 times out of 10, I wouldn’t mind. A huge part of it is that they know I never get mad, and it hurts that they made decisions knowing it would impact the time/ability they had to be present when they’ve been so busy that I haven’t seen them in months, whereas the people they were out with last night are people they see regularly. They also know that I’ve been going through a really hard time, and this meant a lot to me, and there’s just a lot more history there that’s making this more hurtful.
What makes it worse is that some new friends (who have been so so lovely) invited me to the same event literally a few hours after I’d been asked, and I didn’t want to turn them down and they kind of know my friend through a mutual friend (met a few times on nights out) so I asked if they could come along/we all meet up, or I could join after they left, and they just haven’t responded at all and I’m a bit confused and not sure if I overstepped. I also didn’t want to just say no because I knew there was a good chance my friend would flake, and they seemed like healthier friends than my old friend group tbh so I wanted to put effort in buuuut I kind of feel like I fucked that up lol.
I’ve just been noticing it more and more since going through a really rough patch in my life and ig reaching my limit on being an afterthought - I’m constantly the one that people let down when given the choice between me and someone else, and I feel like it’s something I’ve created in my relationships by always choosing to let it go, or not wanting people to feel like they have to worry about me getting mad. Now I don’t really know how to change it, or whether the friendships I’ve formed will survive that.
I don’t know whether me cancelling is just punishing myself/an overreaction, or setting a boundary. I don’t want to disrespect myself by brushing off my feelings and still going to this thing with them just because I don’t want to go alone/want to catch up with them. I also genuinely know that they do love me a lot (we’ve known each other a long time), these things happen, and it’s maybe just not that deep, or I just need to think about it from a different perspective. I’ve not replied to their messages and we’re supposed to meet in a couple of hours. I just feel really lost.
Has anyone else experienced similar things, or maybe have any suggestions/advice, please? Ty in advance! xx
tl:dr; friend changed up plans last minute due to going out the night before, want to cancel bc I’m hurt and feel like they see me as a pushovewouldn’t do this to other friends, but don’t want to act out of emotions/go about this the wrong way.

Psalm 69:1-36

¹ Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. ² I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold. I have come into the deep waters; the floods engulf me. ³ I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched. My eyes fail, looking for my God. ⁴ Those who hate me without reason outnumber the hairs of my head; many are my enemies without cause, those who seek to destroy me. I am forced to restore what I did not steal.
⁵ You, God, know my folly; my guilt is not hidden from you.
⁶ Lord, the Lord Almighty, may those who hope in you not be disgraced because of me; God of Israel, may those who seek you not be put to shame because of me. ⁷ For I endure scorn for your sake, and shame covers my face. ⁸ I am a foreigner to my own family, a stranger to my own mother’s children; ⁹ for zeal for your house consumes me, and the insults of those who insult you fall on me. ¹⁰ When I weep and fast, I must endure scorn; ¹¹ when I put on sackcloth, people make sport of me. ¹² Those who sit at the gate mock me, and I am the song of the drunkards.
¹³ But I pray to you, Lord, in the time of your favor; in your great love, O God, answer me with your sure salvation. ¹⁴ Rescue me from the mire, do not let me sink; deliver me from those who hate me, from the deep waters. ¹⁵ Do not let the floodwaters engulf me or the depths swallow me up or the pit close its mouth over me.
¹⁶ Answer me, Lord, out of the goodness of your love; in your great mercy turn to me. ¹⁷ Do not hide your face from your servant; answer me quickly, for I am in trouble. ¹⁸ Come near and rescue me; deliver me because of my foes.
¹⁹ You know how I am scorned, disgraced and shamed; all my enemies are before you. ²⁰ Scorn has broken my heart and has left me helpless; I looked for sympathy, but there was none, for comforters, but I found none. ²¹ They put gall in my food and gave me vinegar for my thirst.
²² May the table set before them become a snare; may it become retribution and^\)^b\) a trap. ²³ May their eyes be darkened so they cannot see, and their backs be bent forever. ²⁴ Pour out your wrath on them; let your fierce anger overtake them. ²⁵ May their place be deserted; let there be no one to dwell in their tents. ²⁶ For they persecute those you wound and talk about the pain of those you hurt. ²⁷ Charge them with crime upon crime; do not let them share in your salvation. ²⁸ May they be blotted out of the book of life and not be listed with the righteous.
²⁹ But as for me, afflicted and in pain— may your salvation, God, protect me.
³⁰ I will praise God’s name in song and glorify him with thanksgiving. ³¹ This will please the Lord more than an ox, more than a bull with its horns and hooves. ³² The poor will see and be glad— you who seek God, may your hearts live! ³³ The Lord hears the needy and does not despise his captive people.
³⁴ Let heaven and earth praise him, the seas and all that move in them, ³⁵ for God will save Zion and rebuild the cities of Judah. Then people will settle there and possess it; ³⁶ the children of his servants will inherit it, and those who love his name will dwell there.

this is my first reddit post ever so sorry if i’m doing this wrong. i only use this app to find people with similar problems, anyway.
i’m a 19 (almost 20) y/o F, i weigh 106 and im 5’1.
i like to start off by saying i have anxiety (mainly health anxiety) and tachycardia (due to anxiety probably) so this could just be a misunderstanding.
but as of now i feel bloated, like a balloon. i feel like i need to burp but i cant. i feel like i cant take a full proper breath. my middle/upper back hurts, (my spine is slightly curved to the right so maybe thats why, but i think thats lower) under my left breast feels uncomfortable and my left arm near my armpit feels odd (basically lots of slight pressure) i have a weird sensation in my left arm and hand, kind of like a numbness but not at the same time. the left side of my face (cheek/jaw and ear area) feels weird and my throat feels like there’s a lot of mucus clogging it. everytime i lay down after awhile i feel like i get out of breath and my heart spikes up. i have a cheap heart watch on but it said it went up to about 113, (i constantly check my heart rate and blood oxygen.) as of now its in the mid 80s, but its going up still. anyway, i’ve been feeling very imbalanced lately, like the floor is moving, not standing on solid d ground. i’ve been feeling dizzy and very fake, like derealization. and it’s super scary considering i feel like i’m not in my head / body most of the time. maybe this is because my iron is mildly low (55) and i’ve been staying up until 7am and waking up at 4pm and haven’t been eating right, constantly have stomach pain. but in my mind all this stress, bad sleeping habits and and eating habits could lead to a heart attack. my episodes usually start at night when i want to go to sleep. it’s scary. i always have a feeling that once i fall asleep i wont wake up which keeps me up at night. i usually fall asleep once my boyfriend wakes up because i like the feeling of being monitored i guess, its comforting to know that someone is there just in case.
but are these signs of a possible cardiac arrest or heart attack or is it just anxiety ? i’m trying to avoid going to the ER since i went 11 times JUST in may and had multiple CT scans and x-rays done and everything seems to be fine (except my $2k hospital bill) my mom always told me growing up that stress can kill you and that information stresses me out more every time i’m stressed and lately i’ve been constantly stressed.

The profusion of identical green tents at this spring’s anti-Israel protests struck many as odd. “Why is everybody’s tent the same?,” asked New York mayor Eric Adams. Like others, the mayor suspected “a well-concerted organizing effort” driving the protests. More recent reporting shows a concerted push behind the Gaza protest movement. But it is not as simple as a single organization secretly rallying protesters or buying tents. Instead, the movement’s most determined activists represent a network of loosely linked far-left groups. Some are openly affiliated with well-known progressive nonprofits; others work in the shadows.
The movement also draws on diverse but generous sources of financial backing. Those funding streams may soon be augmented by the federal government. As I chronicled last year in a Manhattan Institute report, “The Big Squeeze: How Biden’s Environmental Justice Agenda Hurts the Economy and the Environment,” the administration’s massive program of environmental justice grants seems designed to prioritize the funding of highly ideological local groups. The Inflation Reduction Act, for example, earmarks $3 billion for “environmental and climate justice block grants” intended for local nonprofits. Today, hundreds of far-left political groups include language about environmental issues and “climate justice” in their mission statements. If just a fraction of planned grants flows to such groups, the effect will be a gusher of new funding for radical causes.
As the Gaza protests spread across U.S. college campuses, many observers noted an eerie uniformity among them. From one campus to the next, protesters operated in disciplined cadres, keeping their faces covered and using identical rote phrases as they refused to talk with reporters. The Atlantic noted the strangeness of seeing elite college students “chanting like automatons.” Students held up keffiyeh scarves or umbrellas to block the view of prying cameras and linked arms to halt the movements of outsiders. At Columbia University and elsewhere, protesters formed “liberated zones,” from which “Zionists” were excluded. Around the edges of the encampments, the more militaristic activists donned helmets and goggles and carried crude weapons, apparently eager to mix it up with police or counter-protesters. We’ve seen these tactics before—notably during the “mostly peaceful” Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, when full-time agitators helped ignite riots, set up a police-free (and violence-plagued) zone in Seattle, and laid nightly siege to Portland, Oregon’s federal courthouse.
In a remarkable work of reporting, Park MacDougald recently traced the tangled roots of organizations backing pro-jihad protests, both on and off campuses. These include Antifa and other networks of anonymous anarchists, along with “various communist and Marxist-Leninist groups, including the Maoist Revolutionary Communist Party, the Party for Socialism and Liberation (PSL), and the International ANSWER coalition,” MacDougald writes. Higher up the food chain, we find groups openly supported by America’s growing class of super-rich tech execs or the anti-capitalist heirs of great fortunes. For example, retired tech mogul Neville Roy Singham, who is married to Code Pink founder Jodie Evans, funds The People’s Forum, a lavish Manhattan resource center for far-left groups. As the Columbia protests intensified, the center urged members to head uptown to “support our students.” Following the money trail of other protest groups, MacDougald finds connections to the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, the Ford Foundation, and—surprising no one—the George Soros-backed Tides Foundation.
Of course, the current wave of anti-Israel protests also involves alliances with pro-Hamas organizations such as Students for Justice in Palestine. Last November, Jonathan Schanzer of the Foundation for Defense of Democracies testified to the House Ways and Means Committee that SJP and similar groups have deep ties to global terrorist organizations, including Hamas.
For many keffiyeh-wearing protestors, however, a recently professed concern for Palestinians is just the latest in a long list of causes they believe justify taking over streets and college quads. In Unherd, Mary Harrington dubs this medley of political beliefs the “omnicause,” writing that “all contemporary radical causes seem somehow to have been absorbed into one.” Today’s leftist activists share an interlocking worldview that sees racism, income inequality, trans intolerance, climate change, alleged police violence, and Israeli-Palestinian conflicts all as products of capitalism and “colonialism.” Therefore, the stated rationale for any individual protest is a stand-in for the real battle: attacking Western society and its institutions.
In the U.S., this type of general-purpose uprising goes back at least to the riots at the 1999 meeting of the World Trade Organization in Seattle. In those protests, mainstream liberal factions—including labor unions and environmentalists—were joined by “black bloc” anarchists and other radicals eager to engage in “direct action” against police. That pattern—relatively moderate demonstrators providing a friendly envelope for hard-core disruptors—formed the template for many later protests: the Occupy Wall Street encampments in 2011, demonstrations following the police shooting of Michael Brown in 2014, 2016’s Standing Rock anti-pipeline movement, and of course, the calamitous summer of 2020.
These uprisings were not entirely spontaneous. In some cases, activists spend months planning mass actions—for example, against economic summits or political conventions—and can recruit street fighters from across the country. In others, an event, such as George Floyd’s death, sparks popular protests involving neophyte demonstrators. Those attract far-left activists, who swoop in to organize and expand the struggle, often tilting it toward more radical action.
That has certainly been the case at the college Gaza-paloozas. At Columbia, the New York Times spotted a woman old enough to be a student’s grandmother in the thick of the action as protesters barricaded that school’s Hamilton Hall. The woman was 63-year-old Lisa Fithian, a lifetime activist, who Portland’s alternative weekly Street Roots approvingly calls “a trainer of mass rebellion.” A counter-protester trying to block the pro-Hamas demonstrators told NBC News, “She was right in the middle of it, instructing them how to better set up the barriers.” Fithian told the Times she’d been invited to train students in protest safety and “general logistics.” She claims to have taken part in almost every major U.S. protest movement going back to the 1999 “Battle in Seattle.”
America’s radical network has plenty of Lisa Fithians, with the time and resources to travel the country educating newcomers about the “logistics” of disruptive protests. And these activists appear to have played key roles in the college occupations. The New York City Police Department says nearly half the demonstrators arrested on the Columbia and City University of New York (CUNY) campuses on April 30 were not affiliated with the schools. One hooded Hamilton Hall occupier—photographed scuffling with a Columbia custodian before getting arrested—turned out to be 40-year-old James Carlson, heir to a large advertising fortune. According to the New York Post, Carlson lives in a $2.3 million Park Slope townhouse and has a long rap sheet. For example, in 2005, he was arrested in San Francisco during the violent “West Coast Anti-Capitalist Mobilization and March Against the G8.” (Those charges were dropped.)
For a quarter-century now, Antifa and other anarchist networks have worked to refine tactics and share lessons following each major action. At Columbia, UCLA, and other schools, authorities found printouts of a “Do-It Yourself Occupation Guide” and similar documents. The young campus radicals are eager to learn from their more experienced elders. And, like the high-achieving students they are, they follow directions carefully. MacDougald asked Kyle Shideler, the director for homeland security and counterterrorism at the Center for Security Policy, about the mystery of the identical tents. There was no need for a central group to distribute hundreds of tents, Shideler said. Instead, “the organizers told [students] to buy a tent, and sent around a Google Doc with a link to that specific tent on Amazon. So they all went out and bought the same tent.”
In other words, America’s radical class has gotten very skilled at recruiting and instructing new activists—even from among the ranks of elite college students with a good deal to lose. How much more could this movement accomplish with hundreds of millions in federal dollars flooding activist groups around the country?
From its first week in office, the Biden administration has trumpeted its goal to funnel more environmental spending toward “disadvantaged communities that have been historically marginalized,” partly by issuing grants to grassroots organizations. Previous environmental justice (EJ) grant programs were small in scope. But, with the passage of the Inflation Reduction Act (IRA) in August 2022, a huge pool of grant money became available. EPA administrator Michael Regan told reporters, “We’re going from tens of thousands of dollars to developing and designing a program that will distribute billions.”
More than a year and a half later, it remains hard to nail down just where the Biden administration’s billions in EJ grants will wind up. Money is being distributed through a confusing variety of programs, and the process of identifying recipients is ongoing. To help outsource the job of sifting through proposals, the EPA last year designated 11 institutions as “Environmental Justice Thriving Communities Grantmakers.” These groups are empowered to make subgrants directly to community organizations, under streamlined EPA oversight. In all, the Biden administration has entrusted these outfits with distributing a staggering $600 million in funding. The money is expected to start flowing this summer.
The EPA’s grantmakers include a number of educational institutions and left-leaning nonprofits. For example, the EPA chose Fordham University as its lead grantmaker in the New York region. Fordham, in turn, lists as partners two nonprofits that oppose immigration enforcement. (One, the New Jersey Alliance for Immigrant Justice, states on its website: “NJAIJ believes in the human right to migrate, regardless of citizenship or political status.”) Neither group claims expertise in environmental issues. Given that the IRA’s eligibility requirements for EJ grants are extremely vague, however, perhaps that’s not a problem. Almost any activity that could help “spur economic opportunity for disadvantaged communities” (in the words of Biden’s EJ executive order) might qualify.
Perhaps the most prominent—and problematic—EPA grantmaker is the Berkeley, California-based Climate Justice Alliance. The CJA is a consortium of mostly far-left activist groups. It describes its mission as working for “regenerative economic solutions and ecological justice—under a framework that challenges capitalism and both white supremacy and hetero-patriarchy.” The group is a vigorous proponent of the omnicause, embracing almost every left-wing concern as a manifestation of climate change. For example, the CJA website proclaims: “The path to climate justice travels through a free Palestine.” MacDougald notes that the Grassroots Global Justice Alliance, one of CJA’s affiliated groups, “organized an illegal anti-Israel protest in the Capitol Rotunda in December at which more than 50 activists were arrested.”
The CJA website also includes a section dedicated to the cause known as Stop Cop City. It refers to an effort to halt the construction of an 85-acre police and firefighter training center outside Atlanta. Rag-tag activists from around the country have gathered around the facility since 2021. They have repeatedly battled with police—sometimes with fireworks and Molotov cocktails—and used bolt cutters to enter the site and torch construction equipment. (CJA’s Stop Cop City page features a cartoon illustration of three childlike activists; one brandishes bolt cutters.) The group also backs a legal defense fund for activists arrested in attacks on the training center or in other protests. For those looking for more inspiration, CJA links to an interview with former Black Panther and self-described revolutionary Angela Davis.
The Alliance is not an ideological outlier in Biden’s EJ coalition. On the contrary, when the White House assembled its White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council (WHEJAC), a panel of outside experts meant to provide “horizon-expanding EJ advice and recommendations,” it chose CJA co-chair Elizabeth Yeampierre to help lead the committee. Like other members of the panel, she sees environmental issues through an ideological, not a scientific, lens. “Climate change is the result of a legacy of extraction, of colonialism, of slavery,” Yeampierre told Yale Environment 360. As a group, radical EJ activists tend not to focus on pragmatic ways to reduce pollution and carbon emissions; for them, the real goal is overturning what they see as an exploitative economic and political system. Since these are the voices the White House chose to help shape its EJ policies, we can assume this worldview will dominate grantmaking decisions.
In February 2023, House Oversight Committee chairman James Comer, along with fellow committee member Pat Fallon, wrote to EPA administrator Regan asking for more information on the EPA’s grant programs. They noted that the EPA’s own studies of EJ grants issued in previous years showed sloppy supervision. According to an EPA report, an earlier version of the program funded projects that did “not logically lead to the desired environmental and/or public health [result].” Without better oversight and more clearly defined goals, the congressmen wrote, the EPA’s EJ grant machine risks becoming simply a “slush fund for far-left organizations.”
Since then, the administration has done little to reassure skeptics. To the contrary, the EPA has put at least one far-left organization—CJA—in charge of distributing $50 million in grant money. No doubt, many of the EPA grants will go to worthwhile projects. But money is fungible. A group that gets a large grant to, say, clean up dirty parks or teach children about recycling will also be able to hire more staff and divert more resources to political action.
With graduation behind them, most of the anti-Israel college protesters have stowed away their keffiyehs and moved on to summer vacations or internships. But the peripatetic activists who helped guide and intensify those uprisings are doubtless already planning their next actions. After all, two political conventions are looming. This fall, the college protests will likely flare up again, though by then perhaps focused on a different facet of the omnicause. And, with hundreds of millions in fresh funding flowing through the activist ecosystem, the groups that quietly nurture extremists—like those who firebombed “Cop City,” or who chant “Intifada Revolution!,” or who block bridges in the name of “climate”—will be more emboldened than ever.
A Slush Fund for Radical Protesters? City Journal (city-journal.org)
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Hi everyone. I am currently three and a half days post-op and I am experiencing much more discomfort on my right boob, which seems to be dropping faster than the left, and especially the side which I feel it extending to my back as well. The side is inflamed. I wake up at times from the pain and even when I’m slowly laying down, it hurts. For reference I got 400 CC, Saline, under the muscle and was a 32 C before. Left boob is still sitting high up on my chest and now I’m scared it’s going to hurt as much as the right once it starts dropping. I am not taking any opioids and using Tylenol extra-strength, but it’s not helping as much. Is this normal? Has anyone felt this?

I guess I figured once I had this pen in my hand I’d know what it is I wanted to say. Because I know it’s there. Something heavy. But all I can tell you is it’s a feeling. It’s crazy how sometimes we don’t know how to place what we feel inside ourselves… or why. It’s not until someone mentions or points it out and identifies it for us that we understand. Maybe I just have a heavy heart. It just feels… misplaced. The feelings to big for my chest. It presses against my rib cage and that hurts. I can’t take a breathe without the fear that it might be my last. My heart feels like it might just stop beating… out of exhaustion… out of being ripped in half. Sometimes it makes me nauseous and I have to stay real still so I don’t get sick. But I get sick anyway. I’m not quite sure when it will pass, but right now I’m sure I’ll be this way forever. I’m not sure how to even begin to put one foot in front of the other much less, where I’m walking to. I doubt I will be ready to move on anytime soon. I have no idea how that part came so easily for you. And while I’m happy your not as heartbroken as I seem to be, thinking you have opened your heart to someone new so soon after losing me hurts even more. Maybe even the most. Damn. It’s as if someone is pouring acid in my chest. It makes me dizzy. Like the world is spinning in both directions…. I think I might get sick again. Wish I knew how to just make it stop…only for a moment. Long enough to catch my breathe. To catch you. But it’s only just begun so I just hang on…. The worst part is I can never tell you any of this. You’re not around for me to run to anymore. For you to comfort me and tell me to stop crying. That you love me and whoa whoa whoa heeeyyy breathe baby…..that it’s gonna be ok. I can’t bury my face in your chest and tell you I’m sorry……that I love you and I just need you to understand that IM NOT GOOD AT THIS…. That it’s all so new and I’m afraid…that I’m trying to figure out how to find my way in the dark with my eyes closed…… I never meant to make you not love me anymore. That now nothing even seems worth it. That all I needed was you. That I was giving it everything I had but hey, I always gotta fuck something up in the process. That I would give ANYTHING to go back and have it be anything else but YOU. That I can’t be ok unless I have YOU………. But it was you…… this time… I lost you. So now what? Does life really keep showing up after THAT? Did the sun and the moon and the stars not just see what happened?? How can they keep going when MY WHOLE WORLD just stopped…. And to look up and see that you keep going too….any life left inside me has lost its meaning. Every word…..every whispered promise…. Ripped away from me like I had stolen it….. like I never had any right to touch it in the first place. So here I am. Heavy heart. Shallow breathes. A world spinning in both directions. You….gone. And I’m alone in a foreign place with no idea how to move from this point. Which direction to go. Or where I’m even supposed to get to. So….. I tried to write you. Tried to see if maybe it was just my imagination or if I really lost the one thing that gave me a reason to believe maybe I do have wings…… maybe I really can fly…. But you took all the air with you, and I never had wings did I? If I did I couldn’t figure out how to spread them and let them carry me back to you. See, you’re the blood in my veins…. And I’m just an old song you’ve forgotten the lyrics to. But I hope you still hear me in your head sometimes..

So...this is likely going to be a long post, I apologize in advance as I kind of just have a lot of my mind to expand upon.
I am a 33 year old male, I first got Covid in late December 2023. It was rough, What complicates this for me is that I didn't feel good before Covid. For years I dealt with major fatigue issues, what some would consider similar to adrenal fatigue type symptoms, low blood sugar feelings every day, anxiety, all kinds of weird stomach/chest sensations, lack of energy, heat sensitivity, anxiety and more. The only things I previously had been confirmed to have that could have contribued to this were low Vitamin D and a hiatal hernia. Over the last few years I've had a batery of heart tests, stomach tests, all never really found much other than the hiatal hernia.
Covid was rough on me for sure. Had the worst cough I've ever had for weeks. Though oxygen remained normal, the worst muscle pains I've ever had, and stomach issues, frequent bowel movement. In the weeks following Covid I felt like my hiatal hernia had been made worse as I was just noticing symptoms in there more. I also feel sleepy way more than I did before Covid. The coughing stopped, but I dont know that any of it totally went away, there were periods of time where I forgot I had Covid and even thought I was totally over it a few times, but right now I am reconsidering it.
The last few weeks I have really been just not been feeling rough..and its nothing new to me totally but it all feels worse.
Muscle pains and soreness...I dont have horrible muscle pains, but I have pains that are just there that I didnt notice before, arms, legs, ribs, back, chest. Now weird feelings werent new to me, but its all so much more noticeable after Covid. Its almost like...My muscles are all just a little heavy/sore, like if I want to go on a walk, its like starting an old car, something at 33 I dont think is the norm, just sitting here typing this paragraph I've noticed a strain/muscle pain in my left knee, upper thigh, fingers, and left wirst. They are low on the pain scale like 2 or 3 out of 10, but they are there. It is similar to the muscle feelings you get when you are sick but not quite on that scale, just a lower level daily 24/7 version of it.
My hiatal hernia has felt so much worse in the last few weeks. I am noticing so much more pressure around it, its almost like a baby kicking in my lower chest/upper stomach when I move positions or lean wrong, or strain. I've had lots of nausea last few weeks also going along with it, it also goes along with the low blood sugar feelings I get which are fixed by foods (not sugar), and sometimes its hard to tell if I am sick or hungry or what.
Along with the theme of stomach issues, and this one gets a little more graphic...I haven't been normal with bowel movements since I had Covid. Atleast my usual. I was..pretty regular pre-covid. Every couple days, maybe once a day, but it was..simple..relatively the same...Since I had Covid, its extremely irregular, much more frequently it can be more diahhrea like, usually very soft, sometimes multiple times a day which used to be extremely rare for me, and where I used to be able to hold it before, it seems to come on much more suddenly for me now.
For a weird one, I feel like my anxiety is worse again since Covid...now I had anxiety for years which was actually caused by all the strange symptoms I had over the years. But it had been maintained and stable before Covid. Now it feels like any adrenaline release at all absolutely screws up my body. Good or bad energy. Watching a sporting event and getting excited = feeling bad...Even gaming...I am an eSports compeititor, mainly with sim racing, but I enjoy other games. I've noticed that if I play a game like Fortnite now, when I get done if its a tense game, I am borderline panic attack and my body freaking out for literally no reason, and it comes on out of nowhere once i'm done. Fortnite seems to do it worst of all games.
There are more things im sure I am forgetting but its very late, and this really hit me today that maybe somehow Long Covid is playing up all of these things after all. I did have an episode of my heart racing last month and they said it was POTS..I had an EKG while it was going, EKG was normal, Chest XRay was normal...I dont necessarily believe it was POTS but I also cant rule it out as I have had other POTS like symptoms before.

It's strange. My life, by most metrics, has been going pretty well. My parents love me and tell me how proud they are of me, my siblings look up to me, my friends tell me they appreciate me. I do well in school despite heavy course loads and my teachers and professors like me a lot. I have a couple jobs on campus that are okay and mean I'm not too strapped for cash (if we ignore the student debt). I have a beautiful and loving partner who I want to propose to during the total solar eclipse in 2028. And despite it all, I want to die. There's no hope. There may be happiness in my life but I'm always the same sick, broken individual underneath and I always, always revert back to that person. I will never succeed as an adult but I also recognize that no amount of success will ever be enough. I always want what I haven't got.
I should be happy with my life, I should be grateful for every opportunity I've been given, but I want to throw it all away. I would break my baby sister's heart but I want to do it anyway because I'm sick and selfish and I hate living. I'm terrified of failure so I'd rather give up before I fail to amount to anything. I'm not built to be a functional adult. I'm selfish and cold, antisocial, inflexible and unreliable, and I have no control over my emotions. I lash out at people who don't deserve it and pick fights when there's nothing wrong. I will hurt my partner emotionally and I'm scared I'll hurt them physically, too, because I get so angry so quickly for no reason. I will ruin everything that is good in my life if I continue to live.
I think the first time I thought "I want to die" instead of "I wish I hadn't been born" was in middle school, and it's stuck with me through high school and now university. But in the last three years the thoughts have been getting significantly worse. I've been having vibrant fantasies about dying and killing myself. Planning letters in detail. Earlier this year I had such a vivid imagining about slitting my wrists that it made me nauseous. I've been hurting myself more frequently and the intensity has been getting worse too. My self-esteem is abysmally low and I despise myself more and more every day.
I cannot get better. There is no light at the end of the tunnel, there is no long and hard but rewarding path to happiness. I am fully aware of the good things in my life, I can perceive when I've had a success or when somebody cares about me, and yet I have a bone-deep assuredness that I am destined for failure and loneliness. I know that the sickness is lying to me when it says that I'm unloved, that there's no hope, that I should die, but I listen to it all the same. If I truly wanted to get better I would do something about it- think more positively, go to therapy, go to a doctor, treat my body and mind with kindness- but I don't do any of that, and I haven't for years and years and years. I'm incapable of changing because I don't truly want to. I'm too scared of admitting these thoughts to anyone, of getting in trouble (to be honest I don't know what kind of trouble, it's just a gut feeling), of all this pain being for nothing. It's totally, utterly hopeless. I wonder what will finally push me over the edge so I can finally be free.

How do I tell my BF I don’t have the emotional capacity for him right now? 21F & 30M
I have been with my partner for a year. Our relationship was rocky at the beginning but has been very solid the last couple months. Until about 2 months ago when I found out I was pregnant. I seriously considered keeping it, but ultimately decided to go through with a medical abortion.
This was tough on me physically and emotionally. The first few days I was inconsolable with grief and exhaustion. The actual procedure was traumatic, and I very much regretted my choice. The past couple weeks I’ve just been distant. I feel I’d be better off single, that we have nothing in common, etc. We spent almost 2 weeks apart recently while he went back to visit family (a trip he’d had planned for a while) and I felt much better just focusing on myself through all of this, even though I missed him at first. I was able to put my grief aside and started doing things for myself. Fell into a routine, etc.
Then he got back and I found it really tough to just pretend our relationship hadn’t fundamentally changed. While it was going on (the pregnancy, the abortion) we were really close. We talked about moving in, moving cities to raise our baby, the whole nine. Then he went away and i had the abortion and grieved alone. Now that he’s back i told him I can’t move in with him and that I need time. But we’ve been together almost every day since.
A few days ago I blew up on him, telling him I can’t believe he left me alone, etc. He asked me what I needed to feel supported and I couldn’t tell him. I want him but I feel like I need to deal with this alone. He cried the night we fought, i cried too, and I just couldn’t bring myself to be there for him. He keeps saying this is hard on him too, and things with his family are tough. But I can’t bring myself to care. Maybe I’m the asshole. I just feel like I was the one going to ultrasounds, I handled the worst pain of my life and dealt with the abortion itself alone, I cried alone in bed for days after it. I feel detached from him, and don’t have the emotional capacity to care about how it’s affecting him when I know it can’t be the same.
I know it’s selfish to say my problems are bigger than his, and they’re not. I just feel like my experience was more acute and more difficult to escape than his. His was a “what if” and mine was physical, and hormonal, and very painful at the end. I just can’t compare our experiences and I’m not ready to give him support. I just don’t want him around right now because I’m barely keeping myself afloat and don’t have the capacity to even care about how he’s feeling.
This has changed everything, and I tried to tell him that. But he doesn’t understand. How do i tell him what I’m feeling without sounding like the biggest piece of shit? How do i ask for a prolonged period of space? Or do I just end things if I’m feeling like this? Shouldn’t I want to handle this together? I’m at a loss.
TLDR: Following my abortion I’m finding it really hard to connect with my bf, and don’t have the emotional capacity to support him or be with him. How do I tell him this without hurting him/in a way he can understand? Should I just break up with him if I’m feeling this way?

hi, this is my first time posting so sorry if its not formatted/written very well & also sorry if i rambled too much
TDLR: thinking of mobility aids bc of joint pain & fatigue/lightheadness, not currently seeing any docs or anything, unsure how to speak to parents about it????
im not currently diagnosed w/anything or regularly seeing any kind of doctomedical professional, ive seen the physio about my left knee twice [once in 2023 and once last week, housemaids knee, i think? keeps coming back. got given a sheet of exercises for it]
i am also on the waiting list to see a cardiologist bc i have symptoms that seem more or less consistent with POTS? [palpatitions & high heart rate standing up, lightheadedness, vision going out, tempreture issues, nausea, etc. not self diagnosing just using to help give a picture of it] but i dont even have an appointment date yet
i have had blood tests done as well as an ecg regarding that ^^^^ & all the results were normal
i also have some kind of joint pain/issues [worst in my ankles/wrists, and my left knee & right hip], as well as fatigue and minor-ish balance issues. all of my issues are like, inconsistent in severity
i have been thinking about getting a mobility aid of some sort for a while, but recently much more, as ive been hurting my knee more, like basically any time i walk more than mile [or even less, sometimes].
& also because i regularly get tired/lightheaded and have to sit down [and usually end up sitting on the ground]. i find standing largely uncomfortable, and it usually becomes painful within 10 minutes
i try to exercise but its difficult all considered [also have a circadian rythmn disorder so im not regularly awake in daylight hours :/] & i think a mobility aid could help me? especially bc i find myself leaning on things a lot
right now i use knee & ankle supports semi-regularly, which has helped a lot in reducing the pain/keeping it from getting worse. imo im being more active since getting them
i am [kind of irrationally, maybe?] very nervous about talking to my parents
they have largely been supportive in the past about accommodating me & letting me persue my interests. everyone picked up fingerspelling & a couple signs bc i sometimes dont/cant speak verbally, for example
though its only in the past year that ive realised im physically disabled [had all the symptoms before, just didnt realise it was wasnt everyones experience], i did a lot of that discovery thru having conversations with them about it, & i regularly talk thru stuff with them to help get an idea of which things i experience are considered abnormal/concerning
they seem to understand, at least, that i have a lot of trouble with doing things. my mother is the one who bought the knee brace for me. shes also an occupational therapist [stopped practicing after having kids but recently re-registered], so she knows more than the average person about this kinda thing
they are not always immediately great about things, but theyre willing to discuss and actually listen, so a lot of times its about how well i can articulate myself when i explain. their general attitude is that i should be able to make my own decisions, and that if it helps me then its worth at least discussing
i have previously suggested that ive thought about the subject, but not necessarily for myself [spoken about my friends disabilities and mobility aids & stuff]. i'm unsure of how to bring it up & anxious even tho the worst thing theyre likely be is kinda skeptical, in which case its pretty likely i would be able to talk them into it?
for reference the things im most drawn to personally are forearm crutches and those canes w/the seats? not sure if theyre called smthn specific. a lot of places we go have pretty rough floors/no paths so it seems most practical to me. im also currently a minor [turning 18 next year], if thats relevent at all.
i am willing/would kinda prefer? to see a medical professional about it and get suggestions of what would be best first, so thats not an issue [except for actually getting access to that, bc nhs waiting lists are ridiculously long and private is so expensive]
but again id need to talk abt it first to be able to have my parents arrange that for me [have selective/situational mutism so need someone with me on doctors visits]
idk. thoughts?? suggestions on how to bring all this up? thanks for reading in any case & once again sorry this ended up so long!!

In the 19, nearly 20, years I have lived my life, I was raised a Christian by American conservatives in a middle class environment and am fortunate to experience countless memories of joy, laughter, and growth with (mostly) everybody I have met. Each memory with the people in my life holds a special place in my heart, and I will forever cherish the bond we built.
The thing is that until the end of eighth grade, I had a strange obsession with East Asia. Looking back, it was very embarrassing and I condemn my parents for enabling me to become a weeaboo (by “weeaboo”, I mean “a person who is overly obsessed with East Asian culture, especially Japanese culture, to the point that they fetishize the culture in an unhealthy way”). I was the textbook example of a weeaboo who had a terrible case of “yellow fever” (sexual preference towards East Asians). Loving the image of East Asian culture without having any real idea what it stood for and seeing the East as a utopia, my fetishization of East Asia, especially Japan, was born out of the shame I have with the Western culture I was raised in. I never felt like I could fit in with my Western peers who I often looked down upon and did not want to be associated with. It got to the point that I became unsatisfied with my home town, my physical appearance, and even my closest friends. This combined with the surge in anime, K-pop, and other media on the internet really got me hooked and believing really fetish-y things about the Sinosphere. I hate being reminded of it and have tried to move on.
However, I am thankful for my exposure to Eastern culture, though it was through a very bastardized, Westernized lens. I am grateful for my exposure, even though it started out with something as intellectually undemanding as Vocaloid music (songs sung by a Japanese voice synthesizer). The best part about the exposure was that it helped me leave Christianity and join Buddhism at age 11, which greatly helped with my mental health considering I was experiencing suicidal thoughts since the age of 8. Though I had awful misunderstandings of Buddhism in the beginning and still do not really have a Buddhist teacher, I am glad that I have the resources to connect myself with other Buddhists and take refuge in the Triple Gem.
As I left my gross misconceptions of the Sinosphere behind back when I was 14 while still having a healthy interest in it, my eyes were eventually opened to perils which threaten not only the homelands of Buddhism (East, South, and Southeast Asia), but also the sustainability of modern humans. These two perils are Western culture and capitalist fascism.
The West exoticizes and misrepresents Buddhism and the culture of its home, the East, as a whole. I am ashamed to be born in a culture where this was encouraged, which I am worried could lead me to fetishizing Eastern culture again.
But what I know for sure is that the West’s hyperindividualism is harming people, both those whose lands are invaded and its own people. This combined with the West’s growing rejection of education, including that of the knowledge the West itself has given to the world for humanity’s benefit, makes it clear that it is lacking some of the Sinosphere’s cultural strengths. Everybody should hold collectivism and education to the same degree that the Sinosphere does, otherwise we would be left with an unsustainable society that would destroy itself.
There is nothing wrong with speaking Western languages, eating Western foods, watching (most types of) Western media, wearing Western clothes, and especially nothing wrong with using Western inventions, but we are now seeing that the West’s hyperindividualism and rejection of education is destructive and spreading like a cancer.
It is only Buddhists who make an effort to assimilate to the East (had they not been born into it) who can see the West with its hyperindividualism and uneducatedness, promoted by its creation of its spreading ideologies such as capitalist fascism and social Darwinism, for what it really is: a cancer. I can now see the direction the United States, the most populated and powerful country in the West, is going due to the rise of ultra-capitalism and/or fascism supporters.
Rarely the phrase “Western”, as in “formed by the combined foundations of Greco-Roman civilization and Western Christianity” (Gabbe), raised positive thoughts in my mind since I learned about it shortly after discovering Buddhism. “Western” when used in the context of medicine is an exception to this, but we are now seeing more and more Westerners dishonor the progress their ancestors made towards modern, mainstream, dare I say, Western medicine as they fall for anti-vaccine and anti-mask pseudoscience.
Nowadays, some who use the word in a derogatory context are uneducated reactionaries that bash anything and everything Western, yet hypocritically promote the Western political ideology of fascism. A strength that a majority (though now a decreasing number) of Western countries have is their progressivism, supporting scientific advancements, women’s rights, racial equality, and the LGBT+. However, this is not just becoming less common; being a progressive Westerner is not enough, not enough to end Western imperialism, to save the sacred truths taught to us by the Shakyamuni Buddha, or to empower the working class.
Although I never fully approved of Western culture after my weeaboo phase ended, my early teen self still ended up falling into the anti-social justice warrior side of YouTube that I now recognized hindered my understanding of what actually ruined my country, the United States of America. I still did not feel comfortable calling myself a Westerner but mainly because the West did not widely accept Buddhism and has several times in its history persecuted Buddhists. At the same time, I was deceived by a bastardized form of Buddhism common among Westerners (known as “secular Buddhism”, which picks and chooses aspects of the Buddha’s teachings instead of accepting them as a whole), so I was a bit more of the classic, stereotypical atheist neckbeard who fetishized the East up until 2020. Since then, my views became more progressive similar to those of American liberals and I denounced traditionalist Western beliefs, but like the average American liberal, I did not see Western culture, both traditional and progressive, as the peril I now see it. It was not until around the end of 2023 when I discovered the Western problem.
It was a slow burn that started with my discovery of Buddhists on the internet talking about how the West misrepresented Buddhism to appeal to “self-help” consumerists, Christians, and New Age followers. In the Westerner, I originally saw only a person who followed harmless customs, traditions, and other norms that came from a part of the world where Buddhism was not the dominant religion (if you could even call the non-theistic dharma as taught by the Gautama Buddha a religion). And so, I did not believe that Western civilization needed to fall for the safety of the dharma, let alone for its own people. After all, I thought to myself, the West has contributed so much to science and the modern world as we know it. I still believe to this day that there are no superior cultures and that each one simply has its own unique strengths and weaknesses, some of which are only subjective. However, while looking through Buddhist forums, I was shocked to hear about the West’s pollution of Buddhism and my knowledge on Buddhism skyrocketed as I learned that I fell victim to the Dunning-Kruger effect. I started reading sutras and immersing myself with Buddhism by listening to those who have much more experience than I do. There are hardly any Buddhists in my community and the only Buddhist center within reach is a New Kadampa Tradition meditation center (FYI: the New Kadampa Tradition must be avoided since it has a reputation for financially exploiting members and its monastics have allegations of drug trafficking and sexual abuse), so books and the internet are all I have left.
Practicing Buddhism in the West is nearly impossible without a community, without a Buddhist teacher, without any resources written by Eastern Buddhists. Reddit user u/Tendai-Student, a “lay Tendai Student [sic] with aspirations to become a Priest [sic]” states the following:
It is exceedingly challenging for a Westerner who is interested in Buddhism to find reliable information. Bookstores' Buddhist sections are rife with myths about the religion (we will come to some of these misconceptions below). Buddhism-related disinformation abounds in university classes. Misinformation about Buddhism abounds in publications with a Buddhist theme. Even Buddhism-related english-speaking [sic] Reddit boards are prone to carry false information.
Buddhism is constantly distorted in the same way: to make it more agreeable to Abrahamic faiths(especially Christianity in the west) [sic]. To imply that it is subject to Western standards, Western religion, and Western consumerism and materialism.
…Asian teachers are frequently excluded from English-speaking Buddhist places (meditation centers, university forums, periodicals). Asians make up the majority of Buddhists in the United States, despite the fact that popular images of Buddhism in the West make it appear otherwise. In the minds of Westerners, Buddhism is a religion of white converts. They don't even pay attention to the odd lack of Asians in some Buddhist areas. (u/Tendai-Student)
It is no wonder that I went through a phase when I was a weeaboo with “yellow fever”. The Westerner commodifies and commercializes these Buddhist practices and East Asian customs like they do with several other cultures. Its misuse and stealing of Buddhism is the worst because its teachings are for us to end suffering by ridding ourselves of the three poisons: greed, ignorance, and hatred (which the Westerner promotes).
My realization of this drew me away from the West, similar to when my obsession with the East began. The difference is that my interest in the East now is not because of a fantasy born out of misguidance, especially not a sexual one. I now know that there is more to the East than its pop culture. But I cannot help thinking that none of this would have happened and I would better understand Buddhism had I been born to and raised by Buddhists in East Asia, or even a majority Buddhist country in South or Southeast Asia.
However, the possibility of a cycle starting with a yo-yoing fetishization of the East makes me anxious. When I realized what I was doing at first was fetishization, I did further research and found out that the West is to blame for its portrayal of the East in its media. This in turn makes me denounce the West and brings me back towards my obsession with the Sinosphere, which could lead to more fetishization.
Despite this, I am glad that at the very least, my interest is more than just wanting to live a kawaii lifestyle, hoping to have a “submissive housewife who will look young forever”, or all that neckbeard squick. I do have to say that there is something else that is drawing me towards the Sinosphere, not to mention that it is the region where Buddhism is dominant (the same is true to a lesser extent with the Indosphere). Even though I am not a huge fan of tradition since I am very progressive, when a region’s culture gets something right, they get it right. In addition to Buddhist values, the Sinosphere holds education and collectivism to a high degree. It is no wonder I find their people so much more intelligent and caring than people from my culture.
It is common knowledge that countries such as Japan, China, South Korea, and Singapore have the highest average IQs. To add to this (unbeknownst to many), even less developed countries, e.g. Mongolia, with high Buddhist populations around the same region, have average IQs higher than developing and undeveloped nations outside the region. The most agreed upon reason for this is cultural factors rather than genetic or economic factors. To conclude, Buddhism combined with values in the East Asian cultural sphere creates the best “brains” to represent humanity, thus the West should make way for them, especially considering the East’s superior collectivism.
Of course cultures do not stay the same forever because they change over time. One big thing that is different now in the Sinosphere and Indosphere (the latter I am mentioning because it is where Buddhism came from, though it is not as dominant in the cultural region as it was) is that they are generally much more patriarchal and anti-LGBT+ than they were up until the last several centuries. However, Buddhism treats same-sex relations and being transgender the same as heterosexuality and being cisgender (preferring celibacy among monastics, though depending on the school of Buddhism, those in the monastic order may be treated as their birth gender, even if they are transgender), and in addition, the Buddha taught that women are just as capable of attaining enlightenment as men. Even outside of Buddhism, there are records of same-sex relations as early as the Shang dynasty in China and the temple walls in Khajuraho, India depict homosexual activity. As for feminism, China was matrilineal until the Han dynasty era, when Confucianism and filial piety became mainstream in the area, while India, home to over 100 different ethnic communities, has had a few matriarchal and egalitarian societies pre-European colonization. In the modern era, numerous people in the two cultural spheres are becoming more supportive of gender equality and the LGBT+, which in some cases may be due to Westernization (not that it redeems it) or simply the individuals’ progressive political views not influenced by Western culture.
What has stayed the same for the most part, besides Buddhism, is the Sinosphere’s and Indosphere’s value of collectivism in honor-shame societies and the former cultural sphere’s emphasis on education; this is what Westerners, as well as people all over the world, need for themselves. If the West is going to fall due to hyperconsumerism, late stage capitalism, and uneducated leaders, those living in the West would be better off joining Buddhism and assimilating to the East. Arguably, the best way to do this is to move to a majority Buddhist country, preferably one in the Sinosphere (its core countries being China, Japan, the Koreas, Taiwan, and Vietnam). Leave everybody you know from your home behind, especially non-Buddhists. Just to make things clear, Westerners are not necessarily evil and it is not their fault they were raised in a Western culture, but having these people in your life will hold you back from collectivism, quality education free of anti-intellectual quackery, and above all, understanding the dharma.
After you have left everybody in your life and started anew, you can immerse yourself in the culture. Again, abandoning Western food, media, clothing, and especially inventions and scientific breakthroughs is very unnecessary. Your main focus is reprogramming your mind to think like a person (specifically a Buddhist person) in the Sinosphere/Indosphere, utilizing the high educational standards, putting the collective over the individual, and taking refuge in the Triple Gem. Before moving, though, it is best to make yourself familiar with the customs and learn the language of the place you are moving to. To aid your assimilation, it would not hurt to start dating one of the locals who strongly identifies with the culture, regardless of their race. Someone living there who is not ethnically East, South, or Southeast Asian who is still very involved in the culture would be very helpful to your assimilation as one who is ethnically East, South, or Southeast Asian (I am clarifying this to discourage racial fetishization). This may be difficult as you would have to win over approval from their parents, let alone convince them to see you as another Easterner, but if you manage to do so, that would be fantastic. To make things easier, you could plan to move to a country where people treat women as equals and are relatively accepting of the LGBT+ so you would not have to worry about gender roles or whatever. Think of places in the Sinosphere such as Singapore, Taiwan, Japan, Hong Kong, or if you are planning on going to the Indosphere (which is not too big of a step down) since they did give us Buddhism after all, Nepal and Thailand. Your most important goal, however, is to rewire your brain to think in a more Sinic or Indic way and be more in touch with Buddhism.
You can hardly consider yourself a Westerner if you manage to do so, being Western only in your country of origin (and possibly race as well). I am definitely not like those other “people” from the West who strongly cling to Western culture because they just do not understand. Western cultural merit is almost solely from the proxy of our ancestors’ inventions, scientific discoveries, and political revolutions. Considering that the West is being brought towards the wrong direction in the modern era, we should get out of there culturally, if not physically, until it all hits the fan.
If the West continues its defilement of the rest of the world, when it falls, it will bring it all down with it. We must not lose or else everybody loses.
This pressure has a good side; because the bigger the great threat becomes, the more we will push ourselves to assimilate and raise children to fight for us. Considering the infectability of Western anti-intellectualism and “main character syndrome”, how could our Western peers know better? Buddhism is not a proselytizing “religion”, so our best bet is eliminating the promoter of the three poisons, the Westerner (especially the Christian Westerner), from our own lives. How it will run to us as its society collapses under itself and we welcome it to assimilate but say “we told you so”! The older I get, the better I know the Westerner. The better I know the Westerner, the easier it gets to excuse hostility against them, especially from the Sinosphere.
From my perspective, the ones to blame are not the angry, low-middle class white males in the rural United States nor the boba conservative bananas and right-wing coconuts who suck up to the West’s biggest scum, but rather the ones who have brainwashed them to fall for chauvinism, reactionarism, and laissez faire capitalism.
Realizing this, I am now closely investigating the sources of these beliefs which make up the foundation of social Darwinism and, when combined with totalitarian thinking, capitalist fascism. This is after I noticed that these systems are unsustainable and would destroy themselves from the inside out. The slow, painful destruction of communities who fall victim to them are well known to me. If one looks carefully, they can see the consequences that have been unfolding since the 2020 Coronavirus Pandemic. You may wonder: were the founders aware of this? My guess would be that they were not but were evil nonetheless because they were too selfish to think about the future, their descendants.
If this is the case, then it is the duty of us, the opponents of these ideologies, to spread the word faster than the ideologies are currently spreading in the West. It is hard for me to believe it is not the case considering that both Western political ideologies are fundamentally reactionary. Besides, I doubt they would want civilization as we know it to collapse.
I have a social Darwinist as a maternal uncle who sometimes meets with my parents, maternal grandfather, and younger brother and with his political conversations, often sourced from flawed studies, Russian news, and 4chan, I can easily study the principles of its theories. Both of my parents are also conservatives who support Trump and other immoral American politicians. Being raised by the two of them, I bet I could disguise myself as a Western right-wing traditionalist, maybe even a social Darwinist, since I know the way they speak, to whom they flock to, and how to make them give one their full attention. It would probably be easy to do this as some right-wing grifters can fool American right-wing audiences into thinking that they share the same beliefs (e.g. Thomas MacDonald).
Their kind are gullible because they do not listen to fact checkers and often do not do research to see if who they are listening to really practices what they preach.
Even though there are Westerners who are not like this, the West cannot coexist with Buddhism, let alone the cultures where it is dominant, as the West ruled by colonizing tirthikas and it will likely always be for as long as it lasts. And just because their culture is not as viable as the one founded on Buddhist, Sinic, or even Indic values does not give them the right to imperialize the rest of the world and bring it down with them. We can welcome the Westerner willing to change its ways, turn it into one of an Easterner, and have its culture go through a quick and painless demise, or the Westerner can continue its power trip, destroy everything it touches along with itself, and society will suffer a slow and painful death. This is what the conclusion that I have come to so far as I examine capitalist fascism and Westerners’ connection to it.
The Western doctrine of capitalist fascism rejects an aspect of maitrī, fulfilling beings’ basic needs, and substitutes it for a privilege towards the bourgeoisie and the exploitation of the workers’ labor (also known as Vergegenständlichung or “objectification”). Thus it denies the worth of the collective, only concerns itself with greedy individuals, and thus is immoral. Unlike what the non-Buddhist capitalist wants people to believe, all beings have an altruistic Buddha nature, but it is corrupted, being difficult to notice as it has only conditions without a beginning (listed in the Avijjā Sutta). Abandoning capitalism, both fascist and non-fascist, gives power to the people as it ensures a more guaranteed right to life instead of having not even one thousand billionaires own more than half of Earth’s population combined, more than each one of those billionaires could ever spend in their lifetimes.
Should the Westerner, especially one who pushes capitalist fascism, strengthen its grip on humanity, it can be said that it would make its own naraka.
And so I stand by my plan and encourage others to do the same because it is in the name of the Unsurpassable Enlightened One. By protecting our kind against the Westerner, we are defending the Triple Gem.
If it is not already clear, the disapproval I feel towards the societal values and prevailing norms of the West has led me to question my place in this environment. I believe that meaningful change can only be fostered if the West is put into its place and the Sino-Buddhist East motivates our minds.
In Vietnam, where the culture is predominantly Sinic with some Indic aspects and little European influence, we can see the promotion of quality education, collectivism, and Buddhism (practiced by a forgivable 15% of the population), very unlike the nearby country of the Philippines. In the Philippines, its citizens cling to the Anglo-Saxon and Hispanic culture brought to the country by American and Spaniard imperialists. The effects of this are very clear in their average IQs (Vietnam: 89.53 vs. Philippines: 81.64) and PISA scores (Vietnam: 1403 vs. Philippines: 1058). They are both developing countries in Southeast Asia that were colonized by the West, but because Vietnam kept its culture more pure and stuck to Buddhism (or at least Sinic philosophies), its people are better educated compared to the nearby Westernized countries in a similar economic situation.
In short, Westernization leads to the following:

1. The native culture becomes diluted
2. If Western thinking intrudes, mental degeneration takes hold of the native population and its society slowly degrades along with the West itself as it eats itself from the inside out

Those who cause this to happen must be stopped, especially those who endanger Buddhism. We must not wait for the fruition of their karma for their sacrilege of the Tathagata’s teachings because by then it would be too late, and even if it is instant karma, every bodhisattva’s job is to end suffering.
Those who spread the harmful ideologies bring themselves and others away from the Buddha’s word are polluting humanity by having them join their rat race that will only end in their own demise. They are leading to the ruin of many and thus, I do not consider them to be human but instead parasites.
There is a disgraceful Western belief that for a short amount of time was not held by the majority but is now very pervasive in the West and also is the foundation of reactionarism, chauvinism, and capitalism in all cultures. It says: “My individual rights matter the most and freedom means my right to violate the rights of others.”
This Western babble is followed by numerous all around the world and sows disharmony in societies where it becomes the norm. This idea provides basis for several types of Westerners, including but not limited to:

• the “Karen”; a middle-aged, entitled, often white and anti-mask/anti-vaccine female who makes trivial complaints
• the “Chud”; a racist, misogynistic, right-wing male (usually young) who browses 4chan everyday and has a high likelihood of becoming a mass shooter
• the dayangma (Hanzi: 大洋马); a sex-obsessed young adult Western female, majority white but sometimes POC, is conventionally attractive (to Westerners), sleeps around, and in some cases creates spawn that do not know their father(s)
• the angry white male; self-explanatory, right-wing and traditionalist (sometimes a social Darwnist or capitalist fascist), commonly rural, evangelical Christian and have never seen a POC before
• the “Trad Wife”; a prudish, sometimes uneducated, female who lets Western males walk all over it and raises spawn who are likely to become angry whites
• the New Agehippy; generally a teenager or young adult, a well-meaning but poorly educated white liberal or social democrat who misappropriates Buddhism and appeases Muslims
• the AmeriKKKan fathegrandfather; a middle-aged to elderly, chauvinist male with children, sometimes also grandchildren, and is unconcerned about social justice and similarly to the “Karen”, falls for pseudoscientific conspiracy theories
• the neckbearded otaku (Hiragana: おたく); a hairy white male with “yellow fever” and mediocre hygiene, for the most part subreddit/Discord server moderators who stalk and kidnap East Asian ladies (if not teenage girls)

The growth of these groups is evidence of the degradation of Western culture, showing that it must retire as the dominant culture and make way for the much more sustainable East. Once the manuṣya realm on Earth is completely tainted by the West, Buddhas can no longer arise in the world because the dharma would be known by nobody and the Vinaya are forgotten or destroyed.
The future generation will not remember the dharma unless we halt the growth of the parasitic culture that promotes overconsumption, hyperindividualism, and anti-intellectualism.
The Westerner has a remarkable contrast to the Sinic or Indic. The Westerner has a grasp on this world so strong with its weaponry since the 16th century, using force to disrupt the traditional lives of whatever native people it saw, safe for those in a few countries (even though some of those countries are still being Westernized). The Dutch, English, French, Portuguese, and Spanish built colonies from the Americas to Southeast Asia. The kingdoms were blessed with powerful militaries, strong economies, stable governments, and advanced technology that allowed their cultures to spread. But after half a millennium and looking back, was any of this really earned? And is the Westerner’s conquest over yet?
Since the Great Schism of Christianity, the Westerner trained itself for roughly one thousand years. It trained itself in several aspects, but it forgot an important piece, the dharma. The cunning Westerner, blessed with advancements, used them to tyrannize other peoples on a scale never before seen. This was the beginning of the Latter Day of the Dharma. The dharma is declining because of the savage Westerner. And so, it leeched off of any people it got a hold of, including predominantly Buddhist peoples. Even during the decolonization of the 20th century, fundamentalist Christianity spread and threatened the dharma. To make matters worse, previously Buddhist peoples clung to Christianity as taught by their colonizers; the French in Vietnam and the Spanish and Americans in the Philippines. To this day, the Philippines is a lost cause along with its majority Muslim neighbors in Maritime Southeast Asia. The cunning Westerner turned the Filipino against us and now Buddhists make up only 2% of the Philippines’ population. Now, the Westerner sees Buddhism as nothing more than an aesthetic, a self-help lifestyle, or a decoration that they can commercialize and cherry pick aspects to integrate into their religion or lack thereof.
It is excellent for someone from the West to learn the dharma as this will turn them into a more compassionate and wise person, but they must not enforce the Western gaze onto it and discard parts of the Shakyamuni Buddha’s words they do not like. To be fair, some aspects of Buddhism would be nearly impossible for a Westerner to understand unless they assimilate.
Buddhism is not materialist or blind belief without evidence and it belongs to the East, so stop pretending to be something you are not while pushing stereotypes of Asian Buddhists.
However, even though Buddhism is not materialist or very in line with the Western worldview, it is uniquely human. Walpola Rahula, a Sri Lankan Buddhist monk and writer explains it this way:
Among the founders of religions the Buddha (if we are permitted to call him the founder of a religion in the popular sense of the term) was the only teacher who did not claim to be other than a human being, pure and simple. Other teachers were either God, or his incarnations in different forms, or inspired by him. The Buddha was not only a human being; he claimed no inspiration from any god or external power either. He attributed all his realization, attainments and achievements to human endeavour and human intelligence. A man and only a man can become Buddha. Every man has within himself the potentiality of becoming a Buddha, if he so wills it and endeavours. We can call the Buddha a man par excellence. He was so perfect in his 'human-ness' that he came to be regarded later in popular religion almost as 'super-human'. Man's position, according to Buddhism, is supreme. Man is his own master, and there is no higher being or power that sits in judgment over his destiny. (Rahula 3)
How could one even consider the Westerners who diluted Buddhism human themselves at this point? If it were not for them, Westerners may have a better understanding of the teachings of the “man par excellence”. We are lucky that the only Westerners who necessarily see us as inferior are white nationalists and fundamentalist Christians, otherwise the Westerner could have committed a genocide that would have left millions of us dead. Westerners are competitive beings, so they rarely act in concord towards each other. It is only when there is something that draws them together or away from a common danger.
If everybody on Earth becomes a Westerner, they would wallow in their shamelessness and would have nobody left to exploit except for each other until they destroy themselves.
Until they are the only ones left, they will vilify and exploit anything non-Western until they only have each other, then leading to a chaotic world of undignified militaries, economic inequality, corrupt governments, and little or no innovations.
Unless the Westerner considers even the slightest of inspiration from the East, it will continue to follow hyperindividualism and have apathy towards its education. That is why the West is falling. Those from the West who are smart enough to realize that the West’s flaws that it spreads are deciding that the West is not worth maintaining and its resignation is overdue. If those from the West abandon it to assimilate to the East, it would make the West’s death quicker but more dignified.
This is more than a fad but rather the realization that Western society would be best being a passing fad itself. The West gave us great inventions, food, clothes, scientific discoveries, etc. and once it is gone, the East can pick up where it left off just fine.
We will never abandon the Triple Gem because we recognize it to be more than a spiritual, exotic aesthetic or trend. To do so would make us just like those others in the West who Asian Buddhists look down upon. When the time is right, each and every one of us will surround ourselves with the people who know the dharma better than anyone you have met in the West and we can finally be at their level. We shall be Western only in our country of origin and/or race, but in every other way, we will be Easterners; Buddhist Easterners who will take back what rightfully belongs to us.
When we (and hopefully Buddhists outside of both the Eastern and the Western world) do this, consumerism will lose some of its biggest prey. Even though it may not seem like it at first considering we are abandoning everyone we have ever known, we are doing our ancestors a favor by joining the culture that strives towards the end of suffering. We will be leaving our cultures’ ways of thinking behind, but doing this will save face for our lineage, especially the Western lineage as we would be preventing the creation of more “Karens”, “Chuds”, dayangmas, “neckbeards”, and other degenerates. We will not be annoying dorky nerds and certainly not “neckbeards” who are overly obsessed with and fetishize the culture but people making an effort to get closer to the dharma and surrender to the East.
Although we are collectivists, we must seek personal liberation first for the good of other beings. Once the West collapses and its former supporters come running to us, we shall welcome them. If some do not recognize this before it is too late, well boo hoo! They will have a better birth with the world we will create. Some of them, especially their unlucky spawn, would probably be better off dead and reborn into a better life, maybe even the Pure Land.
The way it is looking now, the West is falling and becoming the world’s laughingstock, which is a good thing. The quicker it falls, the less painful it will be for the Westerner and everybody else. Western culture will not be missed, but we can keep the best of it and continue the innovations that the creators would wish to see. We will remember the legacy of them and be thankful while never forgiving or forgetting the ones who ruined the West.
Works Cited
“Ignorance Avijjā Sutta (AN 10:61).” Translated by Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu. Dhammatalks. 2017, https://www.dhammatalks.org/suttas/AN/AN10_61.html. Accessed 31 May 2024.
Gabbe. “Western Culture.” Wikipedia. 25 May 2024. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Western_culture#:~:text=The%20core%20of%20Western%20civilization,Roman%20civilization%20and%20Western%20Christianity. Accessed 31 May 2024.
Rahula Thero, Walpola. What the Buddha Taught. Oneworld Publications, 1959. Accessed 31 May 2024.
u/Tendai-Student. “栄真Eishin (u/Tendai-Student).” Reddit, 31 May 2024, https://www.reddit.com/useTendai-Student/. Accessed 31 May 2024.
u/Tendai-Student. “Buddhism is being MISREPRESENTED in the West Marginalisation, cultural appropriation, misconceptions and what you can do.” Reddit, 2023, https://www.reddit.com/WrongBuddhism/comments/14zc6xg/buddhism_is_being_misrepresented_in_the_west/. Accessed 31 May 2024.