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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
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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!

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Given the recent discussion of Shut Up And Ruck’s strength programming, I thought it might be appropriate to address a few lingering comments.
First, we’re not immune to criticism. It is perfectly reasonable to criticize whenever and whoever you want, even me. Clearly, the anonymity of the internet provides ample license to do so. I’m not infallible and I make at least one mistake every fiscal year. I get downvoted all the time and I recognize that many things that I say are taken as gospel based on my years of providing accurate information. I don’t take this leniency lightly. I’ve earned this gift and I don’t look gift horses in the mouth. I certainly don’t shy away from criticizing others, but I always seek to do so from a position of best intentions of the outcome. But if you think that it’s appropriate to draw conclusions like “He definitely doesn’t know what he’s talking about”, “It violates basic principles”, or my favorite “It looks like he stole this from X, Y, or Z” and you’re basing that on one tiny screenshot of one sample day of one singular domain absent of context of the entirety of the programming then you must be special. I wish I had that sort of clairvoyance.
Second, our programming is not a mistake. Is it aggressive? Absolutely. Is it wrong? Absolutely not. It is deliberate and intentional. A few points to consider:
-The higher percentages and rep ranges occur at the end of each cycle. You don’t start off at the high end, you finish there. The passage cited is 9 weeks post 1RM testing. At a minimum the higher % come 5 weeks after testing. You get stronger and the programming reflects that.
-Just because you’ve never done anything like this doesn’t mean much. We follow the evidence, and the literature clearly indicates that our recommendations are appropriate. Aggressive, but appropriate. Here are 6 sources, including some meta-analyses that bring the body of knowledge to several hundred; there are many more.
Source 1
Source 2
Source 3
Source 4
Source 5
Source 6
Your experience not withstanding, our programming is entirely valid. This is especially true given the other variables. 1) we prioritize intensity and we manifest that through heavy weights 2) you only lift each exercise 2 times in every 5 day cycle - plenty of time for macro recovery 3) you are resting up to 4 minutes between sets - plenty of time for micro recovery 4) you are only doing 3 lifts in a day and only one for that domain - you aren’t doing 3 sets of barbell bench, then 3 sets of incline, then 3 sets of decline, then some cable cross-overs, then some dumbbell flys, then finishing with some drop sets on the Smith machine. 1 exercise, at maximal intensity. No need to pace yourself. 5) we are seeking to balance strength and endurance. It’s impossible to fully address both simultaneously. There will inevitably be friction. 6) we are seeking to challenge you, not accommodate you. 7) we emphasize self-reflection, data analysis, and agency. If you are struggling to meet the listed criteria then we encourage you to program accordingly. It’s foundational to our approach.
But allow me to let you in on a little secret. Even though we cite no small amount of literature, you can find lots of literature that argues against our programming. In fact, there is so much ‘literature’ out there that you can find supporting information for damn near everything and anything. So, back to my first point, you are welcome to criticize. But you should at least provide some counter-evidence beyond “in my experience”. In the Taxonomy of Information, anecdotal testimony is the least rigorous. We have presented our arguments, you are invited to present yours. Or be a little more graceful in your criticism.
We are well aware of Prilepin’s optimal reps (for powerlifting), and the NASM 5 Phase Optimum Performance Training Model (which we follow) and the NSCA Performance Pyramid (which we follow). We don’t disagree that they are to be well considered. We did a full and complete survey of the information environment. But we stated in our introduction and made available for free our philosophy…we have no interest in preserving the credentialed protectorate of the fitness industry. SFAS is different, so shall the programming be.
Third, we didn’t “steal” another program and stack it on top of our own stuff. That’s not how this works. If you survey all of the programs and methodology out there, you will find a ton of overlap. If you follow established principles and seek consensus, then you end up looking a lot like the other stuff. Did we look at other programs? Yes, dozens of them. Did we steal them? No. The fact that we favor a more intense program that most programs don’t should make this argument moot. This is a serious accusation and should be reserved for the most egregious circumstances. You might not have experience with this type of programming, you might not be familiar with recent literature, and you are only seeing a very minuscule event absent of any of the other programming and ancillary elements.
Fourth, and finally, I want to address the unhinged discussion of cost. We’re particularly sensitive to this topic because we know that our target population skews younger and likely less affluent, so cost matters. And I don’t like calling guys out necessarily, but u/Certain-Exam-2577 and u/Potential_Presence67 ? You two can go fuck yourselves. You anonymous peices of shit decided from your castles on top of Mount Holy that we are looking for a “money grab”? I could have charged hundreds, I could put all of my content behind a paywall, and I could simply pump and dump and walk away to stack cash. But that’s not the case.
What do you two fucking genius economists think would be appropriate for 8 months of daily programming for strength, conditioning, rucking, mental prep, mobility, skills, recovery and much more? We charge 60 dollars. Let’s take a very small survey the prep environment and see where we stack up:
Evoke - 3 months, requires additional programming prerequisites, $65
Performance First - 3 months, $90
18A Fitness - 4 months, $179
Gritty Soldier - 3 months, $30
Mountain Tactical - 12 months, $329
Blue/Green Training - 11 weeks, $129
We’re looking pretty competitive given these numbers. And these are the better programs. We mostly like them (and others) and we have tremendous respect for their creators and coaches. We don’t think they are as good as ours, especially our ruck programming, but they’re in the ballpark. Many guys in this sub have used them and speak highly of them. There are also near endless shit programs out there. AI generated, generic, point-of-sale trash with slick marketing and zero support.
We are a complete program that covers every single domain, and we have well established our expertise for SFAS. But we don’t rely on reputation, we deliver. We research, analyze, synthesize, and present the most comprehensive program out there. For just 60 bucks. Hell, you’ll spend over half that on a blank journal…we’ve recommended this excellent journal many times. But that’s just a cool journal. Zero programming. So we think we’re not “grabbing” too much.
Our resident pricks go on to say that RUSU wasn’t worth $50. Good thing we only charge $40. And perhaps you’d prefer the 15+ year old, lack-luster competition? They’re in the same price range. They even take a cheap shot at our Muster events as just a ‘wAlK iN tHe wOoDs tHaT yOu cOuLd do for FrEe’ or ‘info you could probably find online’. Our “competition” is $750 and one of the programs isn’t even taught by a military guy, much less a Green Beret. You two retarded laureates haven’t even attended an event, so your opinion is irrelevant.
And I should put a pin in all of this money grab, predatory, grifter talk by reminding them that this is all voluntary. You don’t have to spend a single dime if you don’t want to. Lots of guys don’t do anything extra and they get Selected all the time. But if a guy wants to be compensated for his hard work and another guy wants to allocate the cost of a night out drinking, then maybe your keen criticism could be stymied a bit. I offer plenty of free advice and commentary every day. I note that neither of you provide anything of value.
So, that’s my assessment of the situation. You don’t have to be a part of the conversation, but I thought that I should let you know how I see it. I endlessly tell you about the importance of foot care, so it’s only fair that I weigh in on this important topic. I should note that there was also some very reasoned comments and lots of guys understanding the intent of the programming AND of the program. And the OP reached out via DM and we had a very reasonable and productive discussion. He gets it. And the number of guys commenting is <1% of the number of guys reading the actual full program. I like that guys are passionate about this stuff. If you get 10 Green Berets in a room you’ll get 11 different opinions on damn near every topic. You know what they say about opinions…

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I was recently diagnosed with PCOS and have struggled with facial hair for a while now. Before, I used to use Nair once a month and that typically took care of it but since I’ve had these awful symptoms even before diagnoses, my facial hair grows back sooo fast. I went from using Nair for light hair once a month to having to use it MINIMUM once a week. And it doesn’t even remove the hair most of the time. I just get the awful burns and the hair is still there no matter how long it’s left on. This last time I only used it for TWO minutes and it resulted in extremely painful chemical burns that lasted almost a week. This isn’t the first time it’s happened either, it seems to be hit or miss whether it’ll burn me or not. I dread using it but I don’t know what else to do. I refuse to actually shave my face and don’t know what other options there are. I bought this spring looking thing from Amazon that says it will grab every hair and remove them but it didn’t even work in the slightest. What do you use for facial hair removal that isn’t extremely painful or just straight up shaving?? I’m tired of having to deal with either facial hair or chemical burns to remove it.

Heyo, so, more or less, my cat had to go to the shop because, well I hadn’t know what was wrong with it until they found out and fixed it, which was dying fuel injectors, the shop replaced those while also doing a multitude of tests, they replaced my coils and spark plugs aswell. For some reason though when they finished the car ran HORRIBLY, the issue is still unknown to me and it would cost more then what I put into the car to find out.

More or less though, when I first drove it after it was done, it had a very rough idle bit as if a spark plug was not working but in a way as it had a loss of power or something but instead it just isn’t able to keep up. When it is cooler it’s idle is not as rough as it was when I first drove it from the shop, but it is still present in a minor way.
I checked all spark plugs and found one cracked and replaced it, I am planning on buying new coils aswell and replacing all just incase. I cleared the check engine light which had read a misfire in pistons 1 and 2 but after clearing and starting the vehicle up nothing came on. Could this be a possible vacuum leak maybe?

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I don't know if you are allowed to use words like Orgsm here? Anyways, I'll refwr to it as "O"
I hope someone from here can help me or calm me down. I had a hot dream a week ago and it caused my body to react somehow and I had some cramping in my uterus that woke me up. Simce that experience, I've been scared to be intimate with my partner to the end and actually experience O. I wanted to do it step-by-step without him being involved so I used my toy this morning to see how my body reacts. Immediately after, I started having intense cramps in my uterus, along with strong nausea but no vomiting. I got very hot and covered with sweat. I had a need for bowel movement and felt pins and needles in my arms and legs, like my blood just decided to go somewhere else, more important. It was my 1st O in weeks. I took 2 paracetamols and tried to breathe through it. The whole thing took about 15-20 minutes. I now feel sensitive in my uterus and bloated but I had that before the incident as well. I'm worried the O contractions harmed my pregnancy and growing baby? Why was it so intense? For the record, I haven't had any bleeding or spotting, which is a good sign.
I have had it before I was pregnant. Always when I was closer to my period and always triggered by O. It has been hard for us to fall pregnant and I understand I am being anxious. I want to make sure I do everything right and don't jeopardise it in any way.
Maybe someone here has experienced this and shed some light to it. Can't even call my specialist because it's Saturday.
Thank you

Is it possible to do anything with broken grow lights and power strips? Like take them apart to recycle or something? Or are they unfortunately just landfill.

Hi there! First post on reddit so please forgive me if i'm not using any fancy text.
I've been DM'ing now on and off for around near 5 years, originally I ran for 2 separate friend groups with Vastly different likes and dislikes. I had to stop one groups campaign due to work schedules and as the such (gotta love adult life ;-;)
So recently my current group consists of close friends so it is quite easy to get things across but it can also be very easy to lose control of the table if we start having jokes and a good laugh.
the above is not the issues I'm having as the DM however the stuff above i'm fine with as long as we are hanging out and having a good time. My issues span from multiple small issues which I will list below Beginning with myself as I know I make plenty of mistakes as I DM but I'm looking for advice to make sure i'm not going crazy and being a C**T with some of my table rules i've implemented
My Issues I need to work on: Note Taking - I lose track of my notes (this has been getting better moved to an app called obsidian which I have stuck with and this seems to be working wonders for me) but still needs work.
World lore - Kinda a addition to the note taking issue I have, I like to chop change some things but I still want it to make canonical sense to the worlds timeline which can be a little messy at times.
Pacing - Oh god I'm awful for pacing sometimes I'm too fast or i'm far too slow my players spend an entire 7 hour session on 1 street corner being my worst example.
Sometimes Retconning Small things - I Don't know if I think its okay to do this, I've only had to do it twice in total I Hate retconning stuff as I feel like if maybe a player that doesn't shine to often finally gets out their shell i'm worried if I retcon something It can really take away from that players motivation.
So above are my issues for sakes of time I'm going to copy paste a recent paragraph I sent to my players parts like player names will be edited of course. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So shappening dudes and dudets, DnD is going to be on the back burner for me for a Little bit cause personally feeling burnt out for a couple reasons that I'll get to in a little bit. So first things first the main thing I'm going to an induction day so I'm hoping I get this job (I got the Job whoop whoop) and DnD will be moved to every 2nd Saturday if thats gonna be a issue we can discuss that down the line. Now couple of mini Issues I want to get off my chest. So the Number 3 joke died ages ago for me and its just annoying so stopping that would be nice thank you, anyone that says it going forward you'll just take 3 damage. Unfortunately the interrupting and pacing is horrendous I'm gonna do my best to keep my focus on the game and I ask so do you. For the time being kinda a add on to the previous my max player count I can do is 6 no more, "Player Name" please let "His Partner" know I do not mind if she watches but I can't have her play not until I feel like the pacing is better and no ones shouting over each other. The Cards, They are fun but i'm gonna rejig them to be less annoying and alot less OP, (I'm removing that bag of holding card) personal thing - If I ask something to do with in the game could you please just acknowledge you have seen it, cause I've typed in plane text plenty of times before and it just doesn't get listened to it starts with one person then everyone else follows if you get me and it can make some little instructions that make things easier for me alot harder. As the DM I want a bit more control So one of the major ones that I ask is NO ONE calls "Roll a persuasion to persuade me" or anything along that lines, it is unnecessary and tbh I find it a bit rude. NO Rape or Rolling Cock size. (its just weird and its disgusting you'd think of it tbh)
There are a few more other things that personally bother me but those are the main ones, the minor ones just consist of 1. Don't Make up your own lore of my own creation and then treat it as cannon, I didn't ask and I don't care.

1. Don't ask for any more custom items, if I give you something be happy and let it be a surprise. 3."did we level up?" i know its a joke but tone it down before it gets worse.
2. If you create a backstory please give me the footnotes of the main points that I can work with, don't give me a lore book about how garfunkle the black white man slain a beast. I won't read it. (Edit - I don't mind if they give me a book to read I do like lore I just mean here that I'd prefer notes of the main points in their characters story)
3. I would prefer Game things are sent on discord concerning characters thats a personal thing, I created the discord for me to be organised and have it all in one place so if you please could just send me stuff on that even if its a dnd beyond link I would like it all in one place. I get this is gonna be alot to read but I hope I get my point across. I am the dungeon master and I want to create a game for you guys to enjoy but I have neglected my own joy for the game and have been more lazy with it because of this. I have alot of stuff to fix from last session especially and I'm gonna try to be more focused on the game and create a better experience and all I ask is please listen, pay attention and any question on the world so you can clarify things you may ask me, if there is any issues during the session call for a break if its that major so we may discuss at the table and if its a small issue we discuss it after the session. I may rule things wrong but i'll attempt to rule it in a way that makes sense and then I shall research and let you know afterwards, I'd rather not search rules in the middle of the game and taking half a hour per turn. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So context for some things the number 3 joke is from shrek "NUMBER 3 MY LORD" and I use magic the gathering cards for little 1 session boons they are a hell of a lot of fun and I'll post under this if anyone else play's DnD and MTG (I'd recommend using the Dungeons and dragons sets for Magic if you wish to try this out)
Revitalize x2 - Add a Medium Potion to Inventory
​
Treasure x3 - Add 100 Gold
​
Choose Your Weapon - Choose one for the Remainder of the Session
Archery - +2 to Range attacks
or
Two Weapon Fighting - +2 to Melee Attacks
​
Curse of Surveillance - You Grow an eyeball onto the palm of your hand, something or someone is watching you (The DM determines who) This curse is passed on
when someone else draws the card or removed with the "Remove curse Spell"
​
Improvised weaponry - You feel compelled to use the first random object as your weapon for the session.
​
Triumphant Adventurer - Roll a D20,
Even Numbers add 3 Platinum to your Inventory.
Odd Numbers Summons a Gold Plated Cocky knight to gloat how rich he is for 1 minute.
​
Hunters Mark - You Gain the Ability Hunters Mark for the Session it does not Require Concentration.
​
Contact Other Plane - You ask anything from the DM roll a d100 to discover the outcome.
​
Hoard Robber - The best robber in all the land has found you and took every bit of coin you have leaving a single fake gold piece.
​
Dawnbringer Cleric - You can Choose One to use throughout the session
Cure Wounds
Dispel Magic
Gentle Repose
​
Priest of Ancient lore - A old Dwarf appears in front of you radiating a holy light asking "Would you like to know the lore of this land?"
​
Boots of Speed - You Gain Extra 15ft Speed for the Session.
​
Silver Raven - A Unknown Vampires Raven Follows you.
​
Check for Traps - You becoming Increasingly paranoid of traps for the session the DM at Random will ask you to check for traps at your feet.
​
Blessed Defiance - You Summon A white Spirit, it says nothing, it is friendly to only you, it will follow and defend you for this session.
​
Chaos Channeler - A wild magic sorcerer Explodes from the multiverse, he looks excited as he transports himself again creating a Minor wild magic effect.

So this is a pretty large post But I am looking for advice on maybe rules I should consider going forward, how to keep proper control of a party of 6 and just anything I should improve as a DM and anything I can further communicate to my players at the table.

I have never done this before but I needed to voice this one way or another. I needed away to vent my forever growing frustration in a 2024 manner. Cause calling it onto the local paper is doing shit right now. Kind of like my meme coin pics in Crypto.
I will start off by saying they have a very difficult job and our society is judging them harder than ever right now but I still and will always have love for our state, local, city PD or whomever wakes daily to pin that badge to their chest. It takes a extreme amount of courage to do that job day in and day out.
But when a non tax paying citizen(kidding I approaches a police officer in his SUV to say hey these two individuals over there are doing some type of science project with reynolds wrap foil squares and lighters. And frankly it smells like shit. I lived in my area my entire life and enough is enough with these drugs or they call them "golden trails" "blues" or "Fenty pills" Fenty powder or what ever its called. Yes I know I know Im hip and with the times bitches. The police officer looked at me and he said "thanks for the heads up we will get on it right away". I proceeded to pull away and i could hear his suv go back into park. What is that all about they are certainly not writing tickets cause just outside my neighborhood every friday and saturday is drag racing from midnight til around 3am.
So I flipped a bitch to see what had taken place and he was still in the same spot chillin amd there goes the scientists with there foil and their faces are being lite up by a small flame "Bic lighter" driving away. I wish that i would have invested into Reynolds wrap when this pandemic started. Near my house its always sold out. I cant even have a proper BBQ with friends our i the grill cause i git no damn foil. So i look like a pussy when we are all hanging out on the deck when i bring out the FORMAN. Its not a porper BBQ with a fucking Forman heating up. I make sure ti say ti the friends "its done with the red light goes off dummy".
I just want my neighborhood to go back to they it was 10 yrs ago. All even settle for 5. A mere 5 years is all I am asking for and keep that "blues" away from my fucking kids and grand kids!
So say what you want, i just wanted to vent some.
Thanks
How do you feel when you see a crime?
Would you even approach the SUV?
Whats keeping you from taking action?
Enough is enough, right?
?

I have never done this before but I needed to voice this one way or another. I needed away to vent my forever growing frustration in a 2024 manner. Cause calling it onto the local paper is doing shit right now. Kind of like my meme coin pics in Crypto.
I will start off by saying they have a very difficult job and our society is judging them harder than ever right now but I still and will always have love for our state, local, city PD or whomever wakes daily to pin that badge to their chest. It takes a extreme amount of courage to do that job day in and day out.
But when a non tax paying citizen(kidding I approaches a police officer in his SUV to say hey these two individuals over there are doing some type of science project with reynolds wrap foil squares and lighters. And frankly it smells like shit. I lived in my area my entire life and enough is enough with these drugs or they call them "golden trails" "blues" or "Fenty pills" Fenty powder or what ever its called. Yes I know I know Im hip and with the times bitches. The police officer looked at me and he said "thanks for the heads up we will get on it right away". I proceeded to pull away and i could hear his suv go back into park. What is that all about they are certainly not writing tickets cause just outside my neighborhood every friday and saturday is drag racing from midnight til around 3am.
So I flipped a bitch to see what had taken place and he was still in the same spot chillin amd there goes the scientists with there foil and their faces are being lite up by a small flame "Bic lighter" driving away. I wish that i would have invested into Reynolds wrap when this pandemic started. Near my house its always sold out. I cant even have a proper BBQ with friends our i the grill cause i git no damn foil. So i look like a pussy when we are all hanging out on the deck when i bring out the FORMAN. Its not a porper BBQ with a fucking Forman heating up. I make sure ti say ti the friends "its done with the red light goes off dummy".
I just want my neighborhood to go back to they it was 10 yrs ago. All even settle for 5. A mere 5 years is all I am asking for and keep that "blues" away from my fucking kids and grand kids!
So say what you want, i just wanted to vent some.
Thanks
How do you feel when you see a crime?
Would you even approach the SUV?
Whats keeping you from taking action?
Enough is enough, right?

It actually surprises me that it took a boycott for so many people not to shop there. Loblaws and the likes has always been a lot more expensive than places like FreshCo. I’ll admit, I use to shop at No Frills, but that was simply because I found it to be one of the cheapest places before there was a FreshCo. I even found Food Basics a tad pricey. Even Walmart was always a bit more expensive and I find has only brought their prices down to take advantage of those who are boycotting.

1. Planning and Design

• **Assess Your Space**: Evaluate the size, shape, and topography of your yard.
  
• **Purpose and Functionality**: Determine the primary use of the space (e.g., relaxation, entertainment, gardening).
  
• **Style and Aesthetic**: Decide on a design style (e.g., modern, traditional, tropical, xeriscape).
  

2. Hardscaping

• **Patios and Decks**: Consider materials like wood, composite, stone, or concrete.
  
• **Walkways and Pathways**: Use pavers, gravel, or bricks to create inviting paths.
  
• **Retaining Walls**: Implement these to manage slopes and add structure.
  
• **Water Features**: Ponds, fountains, or waterfalls can add tranquility.
  

3. Softscaping

• **Lawn**: Choose the right type of grass for your climate and usage.
  
• **Plants and Trees**: Select a mix of perennials, annuals, shrubs, and trees that thrive in your region.
  
• **Garden Beds**: Create beds for flowers, vegetables, or herbs.
  
• **Ground Cover**: Use mulch, bark, or low-growing plants to cover soil areas.
  

4. Irrigation and Drainage

• **Sprinkler Systems**: Install an efficient irrigation system to maintain your lawn and plants.
  
• **Drip Irrigation**: Use for targeted watering of garden beds.
  
• **Drainage Solutions**: Ensure proper drainage to prevent waterlogging.
  

5. Lighting

• **Path Lighting**: Illuminate walkways for safety and aesthetics.
  
• **Accent Lighting**: Highlight features like trees, sculptures, or water features.
  
• **Functional Lighting**: Provide adequate lighting for outdoor living areas.
  

6. Sustainable Practices

• **Native Plants**: Use local species that require less water and maintenance.
  
• **Rainwater Harvesting**: Collect rainwater for irrigation.
  
• **Composting**: Use organic waste to enrich your soil.
  

7. Maintenance

• **Regular Upkeep**: Plan for regular mowing, pruning, weeding, and fertilizing.
  
• **Seasonal Tasks**: Adjust your