I’ve never written a question on this app before but this is eating at me. BUCKLE UP THIS IS LONG!
So my husband’s family have been abusive to him, he is the black sheep of his family he is the youngest and has a different father than his older siblings (8,6 years older).
Ever since I started dating him I was antagonized in some way. When I first met his family for Christmas his middle brother invited his ex-girlfriend to hang out, unbeknownst to my then bf which was awkward but she was fine with me. My boyfriend then was really sick and I took the train 2 hours to pick him up from his home (where his family was with their cars) and take him to a hospital in London. He was there for 6 days not one person visited him but me. They made fun of him and minimized his illness.
Then we moved to my home country the US and eloped. They came to visit a few years later his mom and eldest brother were okay. Middle brother again constantly throwing barbs and digs at me completely unprovoked. I get there may be a culture difference they are White English conservatives, I’m African American. Shortly after we married he dated a black girl, who left bc she was also treated poorly. Some examples of digs; I congratulated him on graduating and asked him when he finished he replied “same time you were supposed to” (I dropped out). Then I asked what the he loved most and what was challenging about being a PT and he replied “no offense, working with fat people.” Took them to multiple meals and covered everything which wasn’t cheap, he complained about the food being “reheated” and bitched when he was ID’d.
Things get progressively worse, middle brother has a precious baby. I want to spoil her and become close with the mother of the child (who is not with him due to his creepy behavior). We form a fast friendship and chat all the time about the baby. My brother in-law tortures this girl denies he is the dad but also goes out of his way to bully her (she’s not breast feeding right, she shouldn’t have pacifiers) all from the comfort of his home. He is also constantly complaining about having to pay $50 a week in child support nonstop saying he is going “bankrupt”. My hubby is part of a group chat and my mother-in-law talks ish about my friend and my hubby is telling me. I ask to see and his brother is actively trying to give his soon to be 1 year old daughter eggs and gluten that his ex told him she was allergic to and they are plotting to do this during her birthday and explicitly NOT tell my friend the mom of his baby. The reasoning was “I’m the father, I deserve to be respected, I can make choices to” but he is extremely sneaky. I show my friend/baby’s mom the messages and all hell breaks loose because of course he lies and gets caught. I would have told him off directly but he blocked me because he was mad at how close I was getting to his ex. I am called a “despicable woman” dragged in their chat, made to seem that I’m spying on my husband and accused of being jealous and sabotaging my niece’s birthday party. My husband says nothing in my defense just goes along like he didn’t send me the photos of their chat…
They don’t know I’m pregnant at this time and I chose not to tell any of my in-laws due to how awful they are. I also don’t believe in telling anyone that would wish ill on me and my baby (bad juju), but my bestie the baby mom knows. I give birth his mom has an absolute tantrum says incredibly awful things to my husband, reaches out to my mom to wish her congratulations on her grandchild and says “i guess I will learn to love him.”
Then my friend the mom gets diagnosed with cancer and wants to keep this secret and makes me promise, she kept my secret pregnancy it is the least I could do. She dies a few months later and my brother in law attacks her for not telling him and claims she is a horrible mother. He takes custody of his daughter.
Fast forward the eldest brother meets this hog woman. She is rotund and English, very ignorant and rude. The first interaction I had she thought she knew so much, decides to bash my dead friend’s parenting, call my dead father in law “weird”, tells me my niece eats everything now due to having a “good parent” and called my apt in NYC “embarrassing” bc it had scaffolding on google maps when she looked me up (like a creep). She then antagonizes me in a variety of slick ways including posting the eldest brother with my niece with the caption “uncle B’s favorite!” On my son’s birthday. Most recently I tell his family that we want to actually have a proper wedding and celebrate after 10 years of marriage, i give them 2 years notice. The hog says “ohhh me and the eldest are planning on getting married then.” I ask why she says “nice weather”. She then proceeds to have a fall wedding (orange, red, greens, pumpkins, barley, wheelbarrows etc.” in May. I try to be the bigger person and send a kind welcome and she leaves me on read.
I hate these people, I need to let this go. My husband says that we should just go on continuing our happy life and not “start problems”. But it feels like so much awfulness to have to swallow. I also feel like if/when I do speak up I’m the hysterical angry black woman and this hog is the “innocent”. The whole thing is so so frustrating but I need to let it go even though I want them to hurt emotionally as much as they have hurt us.
Any recommendations, would you want revenge? There is so much more but I have written a novel already. I feel alone like no one has my back or tries to understand my perspective. They are so sneaky and underhanded. I want to protect my family from these sick people. At the same time I want justice, justice for my husband, for my dead bestie, for me son and for me.

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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!

This is a paper I wrote for my genre class. Thought you guys might appreciate it.
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A Soulja Boy interpolation and unabashed, blaring computerized synths drives That Kid’s track “Kiss Me Thru the Phone” where he relies on the nostalgic interpolation singing, “I just wanna kiss you / But I can't right now / So baby kiss me thru the phone.” Lyrics likes these and glitchy, distorted vocals and beats provide a unique listening experience that asks little of the listener in terms of content and expression while asking for contemplation and reflection regarding form. Hyperpop has become a community-based genre, and a space, for independent queer artists to express themselves and develop culture from the sidelines. The genre is attractive because of the tension between its queerly-nostalgic, kitsch lyrical content and avant-garde musical production.
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What is Hyperpop?
The microgenre has been covered by The New York Times and The Atlantic with the latter’s article title reading, “Noisy, Ugly, and Addictive.” Hyperpop as a genre began as a Spotify playlist whose relatively small following of about 450,000 currently that, according to The New York Times, followers add to their library at a rate rivaling that of some of the biggest playlists on the platform like “RapCaviar.” WXPN, a non-commercial, member-supported radio service of the University of Pennsylvania, describes hyperpop as “…a genre that takes modern mainstream pop concepts, crushes them up, spits them out, ingests them again, and spits them out again. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration. But not an egregious one.” Maximalist and exaggerative, hyperpop takes the conventions of the pop genre and pushes them to its extreme. Resulting in “surrealist lyrics, overblown bass and high pitch vocals” and “Glitches, metallic sound synths and distorted vocals” (Lucas De Lellis da Silva). Hyperpop is a genre that defies the genre label in its transformation of other genres such as hip-hop, trap, rock, and punk. Its punk influence can also be seen with “its alignment with queerness, anti-capitalist and environmentalist beliefs raises questions on our current notions of technology and issues of representation.”
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The Paradox
Hyperpop music production is where it is most avant-garde. The genre imitates pop music and exaggerates it, pop music being an imitation in itself. In his essay, “Avant-Garde and Kitsch,” Clement Greenberg on the avant-garde says, “[According to] Aristotle, all art and literature are imitation, then what we have here is the imitation of imitating.” Greenberg describes Picasso paintings as avant-garde, where the reflection of the painting, the interpretation and deliberation on part of the audience, “are not immediately or externally present in Picasso's painting but must be projected into it by the spectator sensitive enough to react sufficiently to plastic qualities.” On the other hand, Greenberg (misattributing a painting to Repin) describes Repin as a kitsch artist. Greenberg says “the “reflected” effect having already been included in the picture, ready for the spectator's unreflective enjoyment.” Greenberg summarizes this point when he says, “If the avant-garde imitates the processes of art, kitsch, we now see, imitates its effects.” Both avant-garde and kitsch can be seen in hyperpop where the production is avant-garde, glitchy, distorted and experimental and the lyrics are kitsch, overt, and cliché.
There are class biases regarding high art (e.g. avant-garde) and low art (e.g. kitsch). On the material importance of class and aesthetics, Greenberg claims that

“No culture can develop without a social basis, without a source of stable income. And in the case of the avant-garde, this was provided by an elite among the ruling class of that society from which it assumed itself to be cut off, but to which it has always remained attached by an umbilical cord of gold. The paradox is real. And now this elite is rapidly shrinking” (8).

To Greenberg, and within the context of the time that his essay was published in 1961, the avant-garde belonged to the ruling class because they provided capital that allowed artists to survive and create the art that aligned with the taste of that class. However, because of the ubiquity in technology and specifically the accessibility of Digital Audio Workstations, hyperpop artists defy Greenberg’s expectations by being created and conceptualized by the working class, “a democratized option in the music industry” as Gazelle puts it.
On the effect the ruling class’s funding has on the artist, Greenberg says, “precisely because his content was determined in advance, the artist was free to concentrate on his medium. He needed not to be philosopher, or visionary, but simply artificer” (16). Being an artificer allowed artists to focus on their medium and its form. Because hyperpop music is not determined in advance by the ruling class, hyperpop artists instead must focus on form and content which has resulted in avant-garde production and a reliance on kitsch imagery in their lyrics.
Perhaps the most avant-garde, the acclaimed hyperpop song “ringtone remix [feat. Charli XCX, Rico Nasty, Kero Kero Bonito]” by 100 gecs demonstrates the paradox of being avant-garde and kitsch. The song displays a catchy hook with distorted sound effects and pitched up vocals, a rap passage over a rock instrumentation, an interlude asking Charli XCX to sing the hook again, and finally an outro that features whispers and a sparse electronic drums. The song pushes the boundaries of form. However, once again, the lyrics are kitschy; “spilling champagne” and “my boy’s got his own ringtone” which invokes the tradition of giving specific phone numbers particular ringtones popular in the 2000s.
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Nostalgic Lyrics
Queer artists in the hyperpop genre have relied on nostalgic lyrics. This queer sensibility is not new or unique to hyperpop. In Time Binds, Elizabeth Freeman posits, “This stubborn lingering of pastness (whether it appears as anachronistic style, as the reappearance of bygone events in the symptom, or as arrested development) is a hallmark of queer affect: a ‘‘revolution’’ in the old sense of the word, as a turning back” (8). Hyperpop follows the queer tradition of expressing pastness in its references to Sidekick phones, Ronald Reagan’s 2004 death, and overall, a Year 2000 aesthetic. Freeman continues,

““Heather Love’s Feeling Backward, for instance, astutely diagnoses the ‘‘backwards’’ emotions elaborated by artists for whom the birth of the modern homosexual identity-form was constraining rather than liberating: shame, passivity, melancholy, and recoil, to name but a few, were ways of refusing the progressive logic by which becoming ever more visible was correlated with achieving ever more freedom” (8).

Hyperpop lyrics largely reminisces the 2000s, which goes against the typical notion of queerness valuing progressiveness and the striving for more freedom. The “backwards” emotions such as shame feel constraining to the modern queer-identifying person; nostalgia allows for them to escape that label to a time where things seem simpler, especially for the Gen-Z artists that make up the genre. In other words, Freeman is saying that “the discipline of ‘‘timing’’ engenders a sense of being and belonging that feels natural” (18). Because queer-identifying people face shame, they rely on a sense of time and timing that mirrors their marginalized lives which is also echoed in the glitchy vocals and musical production.
The genre also does not bend to the musical trends of the moment. A hyperpop artists does not need to constantly update their sound to match the current sonic landscapes because they are creating music that exaggerates a particular decade. Pastness allows for these artists to resist the “commodity-time of speedy manufacture and planned obsolescence,” (Freeman 9) aligning with the anti-capitalist values of the genre.
Nostalgia and kitsch are related. For example, even people that did not experience the 2000s the way Gen Z experienced it can relate and empathize with hyperpop lyrics because they are kitsch. In her essay Stephanie Brown says,

“These [kitsch] objects not only anchor the viewer's memory of a time that is past but also inspire "memories" of an era whose collective Zeitgeist has been so encapsulated as to be readily available, prepackaged, even to those whose individual experiences did not include firsthand knowledge of the phenomena of an earlier decade. The effect—to condense, flatten, and homogenize the discontinuous experiences of a heterogeneous group of people and then to sell these experiences back to them as if they were genuine—is… the inevitable result of the late-capitalist predilection for periodization…” (40).

This analysis reveals that kitsch is context dependent. For example, profile avatars, big computers, the “blue screen of death” are all imagery that one may find in cover art for a hyperpop album that also represent a 2000s aesthetic. One may find this flavor of American 2000s memorabilia nostalgic, and another may find them completely meaningless if they are not aware of the context that those objects existed in, the connotation they carry for the artists, or the effect that these depictions have on its intended audience.
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Hyperpop’s Attraction
The hyperpop genre has a tension that can be stated as a capitalist predilection for its kitschy lyrics and an anti-capitalist predilection for its musical production. An example of this is Charli XCX’s recent song “Club classics” whose vapid lyrics convey little to nothing making it easy to consume, with a chorus repeating the lines “When I go to the club, I wanna hear those club classics / Club classics, club, club classics.” However, the production exaggerates the production conventions of traditional pop through minimalist moments of technologic vocals overlaid on a wobbling bass sound effect, a stuttering vocal in the background with orchestral synths at another moment, and shrill harmonies dotting the backend of the track.
Perhaps these lyrics are attractive exactly because they are “beyond the realm of “good taste.”” Paralleling kitsch, camp provides a supplementary set of standards to view art, not as good or bad, but as having meaning or being pure artifice. Brown states, “Camp is a sly celebration of bad taste and vulgarity from a position of privilege” (50). Brown gives an example of a position of privilege as men doing drag; them being men, even if queer, gives them the ability to dress as women and remain men and “enjoy a hegemonic superiority” (50). Perpendicular to camp, kitsch allows a consumer to enjoy art from the position of the underprivileged. Brown also states that enjoying kitsch is like it “is there to entertain us on the basest, most compromised of levels… Junk, like the drunk at the wedding, can get away with doing or saying anything because, by its very appearance, it is already in disgrace.”
The other relational dimension of the attraction to the genre is the rebellion that it provides listeners. Brown writes, “today's consumers look to kitsch consumption as a way of rejecting an aesthetic hierarchy forced upon them by economically determined and class-bound interests.” Listening and enjoying hyperpop for its lyrical content is a kind of revolt from the ruling class’s distinctions of what high and low art are. Hyperpop is both high and low art according to the ruling class. It is preoccupied, plays, and breaks form; in Greenberg’s words, it imitates the processes of art. It also is cliché and overt in its lyrical content, imitating effect. It is through the ambiguation that allows listeners to commit to appreciating it for its high art value, its low art value, or both.
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The Future of Hyperpop
However, as the genre grows and opportunities befall hyperpop artists, it has been exploited. Greenberg says, “Capitalism in decline finds that whatever of quality is still capable of producing becomes almost invariably a threat to its own existence” (21). This is evident with artists like Camila Cabello (one of the most listened to artists of today with a powerful label backing her) making a genre switch from pop/Latin pop to hyperpop with her first single “I LUV IT” featuring Playboi Carti off her upcoming album. Other than being poorly received and deemed a Charli XCX rip off by hyperpop fans, Camila Cabello capitalizes and therefore, strips the genre of its underground roots, making even the production of the track redundant. “I LUV IT” is an imitation of an imitation of an imitation. If we were to take this song as a sign, an omen, for the genre, hope for hyperpop shall remain elusive.

Okay so recently i have been going through and replaying a few of my favorite game franchises, ya know relive the good days. The past few days ive been replaying the OG first Assassin's Creed; the one that started it all. And while i gotta say it doesnt hold up great like it did way back when it came out in 2007, its still a very fun game. All this time replaying it tho has got me thinking, what if for AC's 20th Aniversary coming up in a few years they not only remasted the game but also gave it a complete mechanics and gameplay overhaul. Giving us a proper 20th Aniversary edition!
What would you like to see in such a remake that deserves to exist? what features from games that have come out since would you like to see revisted? How could they expand on the game making it feel more fleshed out but all the while still keeping to the core of what the first game was?...
Ill start, personally i would absolutely love if they revisted Assassin's Creeds competitive multiplayer that they had from Brotherhood to Black Flag. Giving us a fresh set of maps set in the Holy Land to have fun in with friends online. They could even monitise such a feature by releasing map packs + plus character bundles for each game in the franchise as DLC. I know id pay for a multiplayer experience in settings from games we never got to experience it in. And frankly ive missed the multiplayer, i have such fond memories from when i was in highschool playing online with my friends.

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Welcome to our roundup of the top 1911 leather magazine pouches on the market. If you're looking to keep your magazines organized and secure while on the range, we've got you covered. Join us as we explore the best options available, focusing on durability, style, and practicality.

The Top 6 Best 1911 Leather Magazine Pouches

1. 1911 Mag Pouch for Organized Gun Access - Experience ultimate organization with the Benchmaster Single Stack 1911 Mag Rack, a lightweight and durable solution designed specifically for 1911 guns.
2. Universal Single Mag Holder for 1911 Compensators - Experience unbeatable durability and custom-fit retention with the C&G Universal Single Mag Holder, expertly crafted by veteran & law enforcement professionals for optimal 1911 compatibility.
3. 1911 Leather Magazine Pouch for Remington, Winchester Rifles - Hunter's American Full-Grain Leather Rifle Clip Holder offers a durable solution for rifle enthusiasts, accommodating various rifle clip styles for a perfect fit.
4. Adjustable Black Leather Magazine Pouch Holster - LockLeather's black ambidextrous OWB magazine holster ensures secure adjustability, perfect for 1911 single and double stack mags.
5. Vintage 1916 Officer's Leather Holster Set and Magazine Pouch - Experience a touch of history with this expertly handcrafted, premium leather 1916 M1911 .45 holster and mag pouch set, complete with a beautifully replicated brass buckle, making it a must-have for World War enthusiasts.
6. Stylish Cowhide Leather Magazine Holder - Stylish leather magazine holder, crafted with real cowhide, featuring a portable design with leather handle and belt loop, perfect for organizing magazines and documents on shelves or in the car, backed by 4.4-star rating and 85 reviews.

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Reviews

🔗1911 Mag Pouch for Organized Gun Access

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The Benchmaster 1911 Rack has made my life so much easier. With its quick access feature, I can get my hands on the right magazine every single time. I love how it keeps my magazines securely held in place whether they're loaded or unloaded.
The durability and build quality of this rack is impressive, and it's light enough to take with me when I travel yet sturdy enough to handle the wear and tear of everyday use. Its moisture-resistant design ensures my mags stay protected in any weather conditions. On the flip side, the price tag seems a bit high for this particular product, but after using it, I must say it's worth the investment.

🔗Universal Single Mag Holder for 1911 Compensators

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Imagine this: after a long day at the range or simply enjoying your time at home, you're done with holstering and retrieving your magazines. You reach for your trusty mag holder - a solid, reliable, and convenient accessory that's been your reliable companion for months. But suddenly, it's gone. You need a new one. Fast. Enter C&G's Universal single mag holder.
This is the kind of mag holder that makes you say, "I never knew I needed this until now! " It's a game-changer, designed to hold your magazines in place, making your life easier and hassle-free. The C&G's Universal single mag holder is made with high-quality materials, ensuring it lasts long, stays sturdy, and remains a reliable tool in your arsenal.
The Universal aspect of this product is a testament to its versatility, as it fits almost all pistols or mags. And let's talk about the fit - it's made for a purpose and designed to ensure that your magazines stay where they should. No more fumbling or worrying about your magazines falling out when you need them most.
But what about the looks? Well, let's just say it's not an eyesore. It manages to blend form and function, seamlessly becoming a part of your daily arsenal. The fact that it's made in America by the best professionals in the field is a cherry on top.
However, like any other product, it does have a small downside. The clip might take some getting used to, as it's a little bigger and wider than what most users would prefer. But it's a small cost to pay for a product that performs so magnificently.
In conclusion, the C&G's Universal single mag holder is a top-notch product that delivers on its promises. It's a reliable and efficient accessory that makes holstering and retrieving your magazines a breeze. It might have a minor issue with the clip size, but overall, it's a must-have for anyone who wants to ensure their magazines stay secure and easily accessible.

🔗1911 Leather Magazine Pouch for Remington, Winchester Rifles

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I recently tried out the Hunter 27-152 Belt Magazine Pouch for Remington 740, 742, Winchester 88, and was quite impressed by its functionality and build quality. This pouch proved to be a reliable and stylish accessory for my hunting gear. The leather brown color added a touch of elegance to my setup, and it has held up well over time.
The one minor issue I encountered was that it only fits one magazine at a time, which might not be ideal for those who need to carry two or more mags frequently. However, when considering the convenience and durability this pouch provides, I think it is a worthy addition to any hunting enthusiast's gear collection. Overall, I'm glad I made the investment and would highly recommend giving it a try.

🔗Adjustable Black Leather Magazine Pouch Holster

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The Urban Carry LockLeather OWB Single Magazine Holster Ambidextrous Black was a game changer in my daily carry system. With its sleek and comfortable design, I could easily move around without the holster getting in the way. The adjustable leather fit perfectly and allowed for smooth and easy magazine swaps. I particularly appreciated the ambidextrous feature that made life all the more convenient for a right-handed shooter like myself.
However, the only downside I encountered was the fact that the magazine holder wasn't caliber-specific or double/single stack specific. This meant that I needed to pay extra attention whenever swapping magazines to ensure that the fit was perfect. The holster also had a slightly stiffer leather feel compared to others, but this didn't significantly hamper its usability.
Overall, the Urban Carry LockLeather OWB Single Magazine Holster Ambidextrous Black has been a reliable choice for my every day carry system. Its sleek design, comfortable fit, and ambidextrous features make it a standout choice for those seeking a reliable and versatile magazine holster.

🔗Vintage 1916 Officer's Leather Holster Set and Magazine Pouch

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As a leather enthusiast, I was thrilled to try out this set of World War era leather accessories. The Officers Leather Belt Set stood out for its premium leather quality, with the M1916 1911 . 45 Holster and Leather. 45 Mag Pouch both expertly crafted to resemble their original counterparts.
One thing that immediately caught my eye was the beautifully reproduced brass belt buckle, which added a touch of authenticity to the set. However, I did find that the leather holster could be a bit tricky to thread through the belt. Other than that, this leather set was a comfortable and attractive addition to my daily carry.

🔗Stylish Cowhide Leather Magazine Holder

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A stylish leather magazine holder that's reminiscent of a trendy handbag, this rectangular-shaped accessory is perfect for any living space. Crafted from quality leather with synthetic fabric inside, it's firm, long-lasting, and versatile. The dark brown and white cowhide exterior, paired with a brown inner lining, adds a sophisticated touch to your interior while the leather handle in a belt hook and loop design makes it easy to transport.
Though some users have reported receiving defective products with incorrect coloring, the majority of reviewers are thrilled with the product's overall look, sturdiness, and ability to store magazines and other documents. Easily portable, it measures 15 inches in height by 5 inches in width by 17 inches in length and fits seamlessly into various settings, including at the office or on a vacation.

Buyer's Guide

When it comes to selecting the right 1911 Leather Magazine Pouches, there are several factors you need to consider. This guide will help you understand the important features and considerations to make an informed decision. Remember, the goal is to find a pouch that fits your handgun and your personal style, while providing the necessary protection and convenience.

Pouch Design and Material

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The design and material of the pouch are crucial factors to consider. High-quality 1911 Leather Magazine Pouches are typically made from genuine leather, offering durability and a natural aesthetic. The material should be both soft and rugged to ensure the pouch can withstand daily use without breaking or tearing.

Size and Compatibility

Ensure the pouch is the right size for your specific 1911 handgun and magazines. Check the diameter and overall length of the pouch to guarantee a proper fit. A good-quality pouch will be designed to accommodate different magazine sizes and handgun models.

Secure Mag Pouch Fitment

The pouch should have a secure fit for your magazines, minimizing any potential movement or rattling during use. Look for pouches that feature reinforced stitching around the magazine compartment and retention straps or fasteners to keep things stable.
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Retention and Release

A good magazine pouch should be easy to use and secure your magazine in place without any hassle. Test out the magnetism or retention system of the pouch by attempting to remove the magazine, then reattaching it to check for a smooth and reliable release.

Practical Considerations

• Consider the placement of the pouch on your body. Some users prefer pouches to be attached close to the handgun, while others want them farther away to better accommodate their movement.
• Think about your primary shooting hand when selecting a pouch. A pouch may be designed for left- or right-handed use or have adjustable attachments for increased flexibility.
• Consider the aesthetic of the pouch. Some shooters prefer a more traditional, understated look, while others may opt for more flashy or decorative designs.

Final Thoughts

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When purchasing a 1911 Leather Magazine Pouches, it's essential to consider factors such as the pouch's design, material, and compatibility with your specific handgun. Also, keep in mind your personal preferences and shooting style. By following this guide, you'll be well-equipped to find the perfect magazine pouch for your needs and style.

FAQ

What are 1911 Leather Magazine Pouches and why are they important?

1911 Leather Magazine Pouches are specifically designed to securely hold magazines for 1911-style handguns. They are important because they offer a practical and convenient way to carry spare magazines while on the go, ensuring that users always have an extra mag when needed.
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https://preview.redd.it/buc9agw6qx3d1.jpg?width=720&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6d53e8405da4a9568ea3f1c11233534c09a6f370

What materials are these pouches made of?

1911 Leather Magazine Pouches are typically made of top-grain leather, which is known for its durability and premium quality. Some manufacturers may also use other materials, such as nylon or synthetic materials, for added strength or specific features.

Are these pouches available in different colors and styles?

Yes, 1911 Leather Magazine Pouches are available in various colors, styles, and patterns to accommodate individual preferences. Some popular options include black, brown, tan, or even custom or designer patterns for those who want a more personalized look.

How should I properly attach the pouch to my 1911 handgun?

The pouch should be attached securely using the provided belt loops or snap straps. Make sure the pouch is positioned in a way that allows easy access to a spare magazine when needed.

Are 1911 Leather Magazine Pouches compatible with all types of 1911 handguns?

In general, 1911 Leather Magazine Pouches are compatible with most 1911-style handguns. However, it's always a good idea to check compatibility with the specific model you have before purchasing to ensure a proper fit.

How do I care for and maintain my 1911 Leather Magazine Pouch?

To maintain the quality and longevity of your leather magazine pouch, it's essential to clean and condition it regularly. Use a high-quality leather cleaner and conditioner, and avoid exposing the pouch to excessive moisture or sunlight.

Are there any other alternatives or additional accessories that I can use with my 1911 Leather Magazine Pouch?

Yes, there are alternatives to leather magazine pouches, including nylon or synthetic options. Additionally, some manufacturers offer holsters or accessory kits that can be used in conjunction with the magazine pouch for even more versatility.
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I’m somewhat new to comics, and I’m just looking for some clarification on some of this stuff as im finding it easy to get lost. I understand I might have missed a lot of obvious stuff, I might not have looked in the right spot? I have a few (a lot) questions that may or may not be related so any insight is appreciated, thanks :))
Why are there so many different writers for Batman?? I understand the dc hiring n firing n whatever n ppl moving on to other stuff etc, but where do they all fit in? And are any of them needed for prior reading for others or can I really just read whatever the heck I want? Do I need to read all of Tom king to read chip zdarsky run? What abt James tynion? I enjoyed battle for the cowl (even tho I’ve seen ppl say it sucks?) so do I need to read all of final crisis to understand what’s going on there? Than after I read all that do I need to read everything tony s Daniel has put out? (Ik ofc not EVERYTHING, however what extent do I need to dive into his/others work to get a proper grasp on certain things. I saw he worked on detective comics 900-something, does that have any bearing on anything? Or is that its own thing?) From my understanding, the grant Morrison run mainly takes place after final crisis, as well as battle for the cowl, and has a lot of dickbats (I think that’s what ppl call him?? (Dick GraysonBatman)) which I’m interested in, but his run starts at like 600-something issues? Do I need to read 600+ issues of other stuff before that to understand the grant Morrison stuff? What are all the crisis’?? Crisis on infinite earths was like the 80s, but there’s infinite crisis omnibus in 2020? Does it take that long to make an omnibus? Is that related to final crisis at all? How does any of that relate to Scott Snyder run? How does Scott Snyder run relate to Scott Snyder dark knight metal? How does dark knight metal relate to dark knight DEATH metal? Flashpoint happened in 2011, Ik that flash went to a parallel earth with Thomas Wayne Batman, smt happened, rest the timeline, whatever, how tf is Thomas Wayne Batman in Tom king Batman run in like 2019?? I’m also extremely interested in the morbius chair wally west vs darkest knight, according to google I think it’s in dark nights death metal speed metal? I don’t see that listed in the dark night metal or dark night death metal omnibus’ at all, maybe I’m mistaken? Do those not have anything to do w that? It said somewhere here that frank miller dkr and jeph loeb long Halloween are good to read back to back? Is this in any way confirmed? Surely not every single one of these stories is the same Batman right? Do any of these questions make sense or am I missing something???
Now, all that being said, I understand that “u don’t have to read it chronologically” or whatever, I’m just trying to get a better understanding of the whole timeline(s?) I’m not freaking out over what goes where or anything I’m just a little confused on exactly how anything is connected, if at all, as well as just how convoluted it all is, and as I said, any insight is appreciated. I understand some of these may be stupid questions to yall, thank u for your patience 🫶

hey switzerland, this is a throw-away-account. i will tell you about my personal situation:
i am a 40+ male with an eu-citizenship and i live here since about 4 years.
i have a decent 100 % job which i like and i earn around 6800 CHF a month.
my oldest daughter turns 10 now, she also has eu-citizenship, so does her mother who is married to a swiss guy also since about 4 years. so you see, the reason i moved to switzerland, was to be close to my daughter.
i had to pay child support here since the time i arrived and it was calculated to be around 2300 CHF a month. we talked and agreed on around 1800 which i am still paying every month to them.
now 3 years ago i met a swiss woman here and became close with and yes i f*d it up for not using protection but in my defense: she had a serious surgery about 5 months after we met and was diagnosed not to be able to bear any more children, we got tested and stuff and decided not to protect anymore... so she got pregnant, yay. though i said no a couple of times she wanted to have this child who is 2 yo now already. i managed somehow which may have been a mistake of course but thats the therapy stuff sorry as this of course ruined our relationship and i had to learn that i may be colourblind towards red flags, what about that... ugh
as she already had 1 daughter (now 4 yo,, which i love too) with a guy who does not really seem to care about his child and whom she bought an appartement with (where she lives in with daughter and son at the moment) her situation is very complicated with her ex and she feels pretty anxious about it all, also financially.
the financial arrangement with him was a huge problem (and of course also finding another appartement, which she says she is trying to.. but i know ... switzerland), and i dont really know what they arranged about their appartment now or what they already downpaid etc. ... i guess about a third they already own of it, rest is debt i guess). the apt is around 3500 rent roundabout i think, very nice location. they arranged something now i think.
she earned very little to no money with her business the last years so finally she is trying to be able to rent her apt now but didnt yet. she says it is because there is no room where to move her stuff to, i offered my garage space but she is worried about humindity. yes, our living arrangements are also a very big problem all together and have a story:
while she was pregnant with my son, we tried moving and living together in my apartment 60m2 (her 80m2 was empty that time...!) and as she had such nice furniture she wanted to have this in my appartement. moving process was a mess and during and afterwards we managed to get into a lot of fights about lifestyle and also about her "stuff". this includes the ikea furniture containing tons of folders with papers, collections of crafting materials, clothes, collections of games for children all ages, clothes, baking-stuff in all shapes and sizes, clothes, stocks of hygiene/food/younameit products (for hard times i dont know, it was an offer, also both cellar and attic), shoes, bags and bags of more clothing for all sizes, random stuff she likes ordering from china. she spends hours arranging and finding things she seems to need. while all usually stays in an ikea box or whatever i dont really care and try not to judge as i also tend to be messy and own way too much stuff. she had a tidy apartment when i met her.
so also while she was pregnant i urgently requested for her to move back in her empty apt which she did. but we couldnt move the furniture back, as in her eyes they were already damaged too much in the first move so they wouldnt survive another. i also suggested paying for new stuff but she claimed she had to move out her apt anyway and there is no money for that. now she lives in her pretty much empty apt with 2 children. they love it, it was her choice and there were options. she hates it, claims it's too stressful for her living in two apt. (theres 10 car-minutes between us). it's an "next month maybe" for having-to-move-out fears since then and she is unable to arrange properly. i get that, it's a stupid situation and i also would like for the children to have stable ground.
so as she is already or still pretty much moved into my place i offered her to move back in with me if she really couldnt find any other place. of course our (i am afraid you have to call it that now) toxic relationship doesnt really make this a process full of harmony, we are fighting about various topics. last time i lost it as she said there is no money for ice cream when i wanted the children to have some.
i dont want to lose my son and clearly see the need for them to have me in their life. again sorry, therapy stuff.
now she wants my daughters room compromised for her stuff as well. really? of course if she really lives here and my daughter is only here for the weekends we can make some compromise but the way she is claiming it just doesnt seem right to me when i look at the numbers.
my rent currently is around 1600 and i have a room for my older daughter who visits me every second weekend,
the kesb calculated that i have to pay her 2500 a month for my son.
that's 5700 fixed expenses on 6800 income for me and (without the pay of the other father) she gets 6000+ (my 2500 + 3500 rent) just like that. of course she also has to pay the debt and take care about the children i guess but this all doesnt seem very fair to me, i dont own an appartement and living here a short time i have no financial reserve whatsoever.
there's a lot more details i could explain but i think one can get the picture and also maybe the frustration i feel.
maybe this is just a big rant about it as i still can afford to live here but i dont wanna start talking fairness here. so my financial question would be:
would it be a good option for me to move back to another country? pay less child support then? has anyone experienced this first hand maybe?
thanks for your sympathy.
tldr: rant about the unfairness of child-support in switzerland with a lot of personal details about a not-so-easy girlfriend

my mum spent a lot of time in her room for when i was 9 to about 17 years old. she'd lay im bed watching tv, reading or sleeping. my dad would bring her food. Before this she was a good mother who spent time with me, made family dinners and maintained the house. during this period where she was in her room, i would bang on her door to let me use her ensuite (the other bathroom was trashed by my dad and older brother), i would bang on her door to let me in to spend some time with her. she wouldn't let me in about 80% of the time. Sometimes i would get very frustrated and angry and start should and banging on her door and my dad would tell me to stop. After i felt disgusted with my actions and completely in the wrong. My dad was an ok parent, but struggled with employment and was morbidly obese. He usually spent more time with my older brother, so most of my time was spent with my dad in front of the tv shouting at him to stop snoring. My dad took over feeding my brother and i but it wasn't very healthy and he would trash the kitchen and not clean it. My dad would still drive my brother and i places, like to school and sportsgames. My mum was in and out of work. i am now 21 years old and have been living out of home for 2 years. It has taken me therapy and up until now to realise exactly what my upbringing in my youth was like. Before this realisation, i assumed it to be somewhat exceptional, as my dad always twisted it to sound. Looking back, it was nothing that down right depressing. I thought living passively in front of a tv for hours and struggling employment and eating bad food and living in a messy house was the norm. I wasn't depressed, but i was living like i was. We lived in a decent house in a rich area but always the stress of a mortgage that my parents never stopped ranting to me about since i was six years old. I went to a decent public school, then my grandfather paid for me to go private for 2 years. Both sets of grandparents are rich and my parents 'mooch' of them. I worked at McDoanld's from 14 years old to 18. and my parents even accepted money from me for the mortgage as a loan (getting some of the thousands back was a struggle). During this time i was quiet at home but my personality was loud and annoying at school. I was disrespectful to some teachers and peers and would not shut up. I knew i was annoying but i just couldn't stop and i resented myself for it. My friends dropped me when i was 14. It wouldn't have worked anyway because my parents were not friends with theirs and all their parents would get together and go on trips and my dad declined them, so i was left out there. This has really messed with my worth and confidence to make friends now. Right now my parents are starting to live their lives how they use to before they had kids pre-35 years old and becoming more active with friends, the community, exercise and some (though little) employment. I struggle to avoid living like this now. I do have a job, play sports, eat healthily alongside studying. I have been completely on my own financially for two years. working three days per week and studying full time, I managed to stay on top of my savings (especially good compared to other university students) earning enough for rent, food, hobbies and holidays and 6 months worth of expenses as an emergency fund. I'd have an extra $350 / week, but my parents haven't submitted their tax return in 3 years and since i am under 22 and considered a dependent, i have been declined twice now. You can claim independence if you've worked 2 or more years for 25hrs/week but i am just short of this. The reason i am just short of this is because ages 19 and 20 years i struggled with employment myself working a measly 3 hours a week. (from 14-18 i worked an average of 12 hours a week on top of full time high school). Right before my parents moved 6 hours away and rented out the family house, at 19 and 20 years old i lived exactly as displayed to me. I even failed 3 subjects at uni because i just didn't do it for a semester. I didn't withdraw, i didn't email for extension, i didn't attend class and i didn't even look at due dates for assignments / exams. At the timed it stressed me out but i buried the stress. My savings dropped from $10 000 near to $1000. and other bad things happened that i won't go into because that's a whole other essay. Uncommon from people who usually experience depression, i still took care of my personal hygeine (never had a cavity) and i still exercised. Since moving out i have come a long way my savings are up $20 000, I'm playing sport, i've been getting some high distinctions (but mostly credits) in uni and I am seeing friends again. I have had a 3-week international holiday and going to europe for a month soon (all paid for with my money). Therapy has helped. But here is the point of writing all of this: what do i do about my dwindling fear of retracting to old ways. The way that feels so natural and default to me. Because it has happened in my adult life. I feel at any moment i something could switch, i'll miss work and won't call in sick even though i am aware i should. I'll lose my job. I'll neglect my studies (5 year degree, 1.5 yrs left). I'll suck my savings dry. I'll eat unhealthily. I'll be glued to my phone and tv, not being able to form a proper thought. I got out of it last time all at once, complete 180. I got out of a bad relationship, got decent paying job working 4 days / week, moved to a better rental all within 6 days. The following uni semester i got my first ever high distinction, two at the same time! even though i was working way more than i ever had. My savings went up from $1000 to $13 000 in that first 4 months. I only called sick once to work when my ear drum burst. was even more social. But i am feeling myself become slacker with work, calling in slick. Watching shows whilst dreading my university assignments. It is like a boulder is above me with a string slowly fraying. How do i stop the boulder falling on me? How do i avoid living the way i used to? How do i avoid my parents way of life? Because if i fall into it, i don't think i'll be as lucky as getting out a second time. I mean, looking back i was really lucky to have gotten a good job. it's frustrating because this was just my parent's middle aged 10-year slump, 1-2 sixths of their life. They are getting out of it now. They are both from rich families and had normal upbringings. But this was almost half my life, it was half my childhood. It affects my entire personality and how i am around friends. and my parents are just moving on from it??? trying to give me career, financial and social advice??? completely ignoring they were decrepit for almost 10 years??? and when i bring it up they're just like 'oh that ahahah, well times change'??? How do i avoid going back to this? therapy can only do so much. Can anyone give a step-by-step of getting out of this for a second time? (*side note: no mental illness / conditions (e.g. sh, si) apart from barely eating for 4 months at 20 years old, that's the most of physical manifestations though). Also is there a name for this? it's like depression but isn't. Like i still am motivated to live but their is a mental barrier to do so. Maybe it is depression and i am in denial? it just doesn't feel like depression to me. Again, i think i might stop with therapy because it is expensive and besides this fear, i have gone through all my troubles over the 1 i've been in therapy and have successfully implemented cognitive behavioural therapy for feeling like i always am wrong and an inconvenience. I feel like this situation is like the chicken pox. and i've now caught the shingles (it occuring as an adult). and now i'm scared for my shingles to flare up again. would this be a correct interpretation? because it feels like people who haven't had the 'chicken pox' have received a vaccine and hence do not have to worry about shingles, or a shingles flare up.

I can't imagine many people are gonna agree with me, but I think IPS is an obsolete and garbage display technology.
First of all, they have pretty poor viewing angles, blacks become silvery and the already bad backlight bleed gets even worse when viewed too far off.
VA has better contrast and viewing angles, and TN has better response time. The average VA panel has a 3000:1 contrast, whereas IPS is 1000:1, I believe VA also lets more light through so it's brighter with the same backlight.
I have a Dell 2405FPW monitor from 2005. VA panel with 1000:1 or so contrast and 1920x1200. It's still miles better than my ThinkPad E14. "Oh but E-series is cheap crap" And the mid range in 2021 shouldn't catch up to what the high end did in 2005?
Bad IPS displays are a unique kind of bad that sometimes causes me physical pain, whereas a bad TN display just doesn't look all that great. I haven't seen any bad VA monitors so I can't comment on that.
I mentioned viewing angles earlier not because it's important, but because people who claim IPS is better always mentions "superior" viewing angles, which is just not true as described earlier.
Not to mention OLED... In my opinion, it's either TN, VA, or OLED, or the thing doesn't need a screen. OLED is so much better than IPS in literally every way except power consumption, and even then that can be offset by actual proper power management.
IPS has no place in 2024, or even 2014. Definitely not on high end laptops.

I hear "Mac's are good/better for programming" as a common argument, and it's just not true..

• The macbook keyboard is subpar for code editing, because very common code editing functionality is harder to access than on alternatives.
  • There's no delete key, you need to press fn + backspace.
  • Arrow keys are too small, easy to miss, hard to find.
  • option + backspace and option + fn + backspace are much less convenient for deleting words than ctrl + backspace and ctrl + delete
  • You also don't have the option to get keyboards with extra keys (eg num pads)
• Non-apple hardware support is terrible.
  • I have a bunch of logitech mice and dell displays all work extremely unstable. They all have numerous bugs, sometimes they outright refuse to work at all and need extra software to set up properly. These are good quality things they work amazingly on windows or linux.
  • I also have an audio interface that works much better on windows, the integration is better, switching sound sources, setting volume, etc. I didn't expect this because I heard a lot of praise form audio/music people too. wtf.
• I don't even understand the stability myth people like to spread about macos. I regularly experience "black deaths" on mac, also while it does seem to handle not restarting a bit better. I can't go more than 5-7 days without something starting to act weird. (But when I do need to restart it takes more time even on a stronger hardware)
  • crApple seems to be more easily closing API's, breaking tools that you rely on. Windows definitely has a more "it just works" feeling overall.
• Terminal based workflows improved a lot on windows with the Terminal app and WSL. In some cases it's even better than Iterm2. Overall I'd say it's still a bit better on mac or linux, but for me the gap is negligible.
• Macos has tons of missing features compared to windows
  • The taskbar's UX is 10 times better than the dock's. On mac the same mouse based workflow just works like shit because of this. Sure you can switch to something usable like amethyst or yabai, but crApple can decide to break those at any moment as it just happened with 14.5. I just don't feel safe that my window management will work tomorrow too...
  • The menu bar feels outdated, on windows apps evolved to make those menus disappear, because people don't use them often, no need to see it all times (especially true for programmers, we tend to use shortcuts), but on mac you are forced to look at this interface from 80's, if you also want to see a clock somewhere or be able to control your basic system things with fewer extra steps.
  • I need to install extra software for soooo many things that are default on windows (as a software dev I need my system smooth and out of my way, and it's a lot more work on mac to achieve this)
    • Window management (sure if you want auto tiling you need extra stuff on windows too, but the default is much better)
    • keyboard layout switching (the default sucks ass, because they randomize the order, this might be relevant for a lot of programmers, because English layouts are generally better for programming, but most of us have different native languages)
    • mouse scroll wheel unfucker software, why isn't this in the system options?
    • Display handling (by default I wasn't able to set scaling on external displays, lol)
    • bartender to stop control icons from disappearing because of the useless notch or even more useless menu lists. It's a joke how this isn't handled by default.

I just didn't appreciate how well windows works until I started using a mac...
I realize that these things will weigh differently for different people, but it's just a lie that mac is generally better for programming. It's not. It might be for some users, but certainly not for everyone so STOP SAYING IT.

I'm looking for an urgent (i.e. tomorrow morning) pride t-shirt. I've learned recently that the mother of my children is teaching them that the pride flag is "bad" and they should fear and shun it. This has broken my heart and caused my much concern for my children's tender minds. For me, now, the need be an example to them of a loving adult role model who supports the pride flag and everything it represents has become very urgent. I decided that it's important for me to be seen displaying a pride flag in a way that will attract the notice of my children and perhaps even prompt them to ask questions.
Now I am kicking myself that I waited too long and have just realized that I should have a pride flag shirt ready to go tomorrow when my daughters see me, but it's too late to order on Amazon and get it here in time. I'm having trouble finding one that arrives before Monday morning at the latest. Why is it suddenly so urgent, you ask? Two reasons: One, I overheard something tonight that made me realize that timeliness is key. After what my children heard from a role model today, they need to see their dad with a pride flag TOMORROW. And two, tomorrow is June 1st, the start of pride month, and I only just realized that tonight. Yes, I know I should have thought about this and planned ahead and had more awareness, etc. I know. I failed. Now I'm scrambling to recover.
So what I'm wondering is, is there shop where I can go and buy a pride shirt tomorrow morning? Yes, I know that the Pride festival starts tomorrow. But it opens at 11. Is there anything open earlier than that? Like, first thing in the morning? That's how urgent this feels to me.
To give you an idea of what I'm hoping for: I'm not keen on all the fancy and clever designs and slogans and logos and variations. I prefer something simple and direct and symbolic: black shirt, rainbow pride flag. Also, I live in the southern part of the valley. Obviously I can drive somewhere, but closer is always better.

Known for its low-cost ammo formerly manufactured in Russia, Wolf's best-selling calibers are steel-cased 7.62x39mm and .223 Wolf. Wolf is an importer of ammunition that is manufacturer agnostic, as well as brass and steel agnostic. When you see “Wolf Gold,” all that means is that these are brass cartridges.

Where Is Wolf Ammo Made?

Contrary to popular belief, Wolf Ammunition is not a Russian company. They sell ammunition once manufactured in the famous and historic Tula Cartridge Plant in Russia’s Tula District. This plant is owned by High Precision Systems, which is a part of the Rostec Group of companies, with a majority ownership in the hands of a holding company owned by the Russian Federation. TulAmmo is likewise manufactured at this facility. The plant is not to be confused with the Tula Arms Plant, which is a separate entity owned by the same holding company in the same region of the Russian Federation.
Another place Wolf manufactured ammunition was at Lugansk. However, this factory was destroyed in the fighting between Russia and Ukraine. Some of the steel-cased ammunition is made in Russia these days, but none of it is made in Tula. Wolf also imports brass-cased ammo from Taiwan, such as their Wolf Gold .223, as well as importing ammo from the same factory manufacturing Prvi Partizan.
Rostec, High Precision Systems and the role of Tula in manufacturing ammunition for the United States market and the Soviet war effort has quite a detailed history. Like all ammunition manufactured by Rostec, the emphasis is on the high-performance, tactical ammo capable of reliable use in combat situations.
The American company is affiliated with Sporting Supplies International. Wolf Performance Ammunition was founded in 2005, making it a baby in the world of American ammunition manufacturers. They also partner with SK Jagd und Sportmunitions Gmbh (also known as SK Hunting- and Sporting-Ammunition) to manufacture some of their .22-calibre rimfire ammunition.

Tula vs. Wolf

Wolf is no longer manufactured in Tula, and hasn’t been for some time. In 2009, Wolf brand ammo ended their relationship with Ulyanovsk Machinery Plant and Tula Cartridge Plant due to legal disputes between the parties. Wolf now uses suppliers from the European Union to meet their needs. The Wolf ammo website and TulAmmo both issued emails in 2009 that did little to clarify the situation beyond the fact that TulAmmo is not Wolf and Wolf is not TulAmmo.
Part of the confusion stems from what precisely Wolf and TulAmmo are. Both were manufactured at the same plant and made to the same specifications. Upon importation, they were put into different boxes with different logos and different brands. However, on the inside, they were more or less the same ammunition. While in some cases they might have been exactly the same ammunition, they ceased to be functionally identical when Wolf ended their relationship with the Russian manufacturer. Hence the statements from both organizations as to their difference.

Wolf Ammunition vs. The Taliban

The history of Wolf Performance Ammunition (also known as WPA) is tied very closely to the ammunition shortages of the 2000s. This is particularly true of the 7.62x39mm ammo, which sometimes doubled in price and in other cases, vanished from American shelves entirely. The shortage was a result of the Venezuelan military adopting the AK-103 as its standard issue rifle. They placed a massive order, as did the United States military in an attempt to supply the newly formed Afghan Army with the ammunition it needed to secure the countryside.
Make sure your favorite 7.62x39 rifle never runs dry and get some bulk 7.62x39 to keep stored up for a rainy day!
Between 2003 and 2005, the Taliban experienced a resurgence in Afghanistan, requiring a response from both United States troops and the Afghan Army they support. The insurgency was easily crushed, however, the large ammunition order stood. What’s more, the United States and Afghan forces were constantly engaged in mop-up operations against the failed Taliban insurgency.
In January 2006, the United States military began sharing its role in Afghanistan with a multinational NATO force. This prompted another Taliban insurgency requiring, once again, more ammunition supplied by Wolf and other ammunition manufacturers. The fight against this insurgency was far less clear cut and one sided, but the NATO forces obtained many tactical victories and was able to deny the Taliban territory.
Later in 2007 and 2008, Wolf’s steel-cased .308 rounds disappeared from shelves across America. 7.62x51mm NATO rounds were likewise disappearing, pushing .308 Winchester rounds to the highest prices they’d ever seen. The Afghan Army order once again played a key role in driving up prices.
2007 was indeed a rough slog for coalition forces in Afghanistan, largely the British Royal Marines. It was estimated that the Taliban was 10,000 fighters strong at this point, with between 2,000 and 3,000 of these being dedicated, full-time insurgents. Again, tactical victories were the order of the day, but the Taliban always seemed to bounce back. 2007 was also the high water mark for foreign insurgents in Afghanistan. The next year was likewise described as “precarious and urgent” by Admiral Mike Mullen, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. British Prime Minister Gordon Brown increased the number of troops in the country.
While many stateside have forgotten about the War in Afghanistan, it is directly responsible for a shortage of ammunition and the attendant rise in prices.

Wolf Brand Ammo

Wolf sells centerfire ammunition for rifles in more than a dozen different calibers and in three different lines of product. Popular lines Wolf Polyformance and Military Classic Rifle Ammunition are for sale in the calibers most commonly associated with the military – including Wolf 5.56x45 ammo, .223 ammo, .308 Winchester, 7.62x39mm, 6.5mm Grendel and others. They sell bullets that are bimetal or copper jacketed and configured as full metal jacket, hollow point or soft point. The cases are steel with a polymer coating, and can be found with both Berdan and Boxer primers.
Ammo for the Wolf Gold Centerfire Rifle line is distinct from other lines they sell, as the cartridges have brass casings and Boxer primers. The same style of bullets are sold in this line, but they also include options for match hollow points and multi-purpose tactical bullets.
Wolf also sells centerfire pistol ammo in all of the most common calibers – including Wolf 9mm ammo, .40 S&W, .45 ACP and the increasingly favored .380 Auto. These cartridges come in the steel-case lines of Military Classic and Polyformance, and the calibers can also be found in the Wolf Gold line, .32 Auto, .357 Mag., .44 Mag., and 7.62 Tokarev.
Wolf Ammunition also carries .22 Rimfire ammo. You can find .22 Long Rifle Wolf Ammo with 40 grain bullets, offering three types of bullets for the .22 LR: round nose bullets, flat nose bullets, and hollow point bullets. The ammunition itself is available in many different types including Standard Plus, Match, Rifle Match, Pistol Match, High Velocity and Subsonic.

Wolf Brand Ammunition and Lacquer Coating

It is a misconception that Wolf Ammunition uses or has used lacquer coating on its rounds, in particular on the cartridge casing. This is not true. Wolf instead uses an acrylic-polymer coating, transitioning from a clear coating to a frosted style coating several years ago. Some people thought this was lacquer and that it melted while firing, despite the fact that it was neither lacquer nor even a substance that would melt when a blowtorch was taken to it. All Wolf Ammunition is in complete compliance with SAAMI standards, meaning that it is completely safe for all purposes – from plinking in the backyard to competition shooting to hunting.
With Wolf's extensive variety of ammunition, they will likely remain a popular choice among shooters looking for low-cost, quality ammo. This is particularly true of people looking for Wolf bulk ammo – a common choice for preppers, plinkers and competition shooters alike.

FAQ

Where is Wolf ammo made?

Although Wolf ammo is an American company, its ammo is manufactured all around the world. For a period it was made in Tula, Russia at the Tula Cartridge Plant, the same place that makes TulAmmo. Wolf gets some brass from Taiwan and imports cartridges from the same Serbian factory that makes Prvi Partizan. Currently, most of the supplies for Wolf ammo comes from the European Union.

Who makes Wolf ammunition?

Wolf ammo is owned by Sporting Supplies International, an American company located in Anaheim, California.

Is Wolf and TulAmmo the same?

Wolf and TulAmmo are not the same. But from 2005 through 2009, Wolf was manufactured at the Tula Cartridge Plant in Tula, Russia, the same plant where TulAmmo is made. Wolf ammo and TulAmmo ammo shared the same configurations and were made the same way. Since Wolf has left the Tula plant, these ammunitions are no longer comparable.

Is Wolf ammo corrosive?

Like other modern commercial ammo, Wolf ammo is non-corrosive. That being said, it is “dirtier” than traditional brass-cased ammos and if your firearm is not properly cleaned after use, it can cause a buildup inside the barrel that may lead to corrosion.

Can Wolf ammo damage guns?

Wolf ammo features steel casings and steel is much harder than brass. This means, over time, it may cause more wear on your barrel than brass casings. In modern firearms, this is most likely minimal. Another reported problem with Wolf ammo, and steel casings in general, is that they tend to be “dirtier” than brass-cased rounds. When this crud is left in the gun, it can lead to corrosion. If you clean your firearm after shooting, this shouldn’t be a problem.

Why do shooting ranges ban Wolf ammo?

Wolf ammo comes in a steel case. Like most steel-cased rounds, it also features a steel jacketed bullet. This makes the bullets extremely hard, much more so than lead and copper, and can damage the backstop in many ranges. If you want to stick with steel casings, opt for Winchester’s Forged ammo, which feature steel casings with brass jacketed bullets.
History of Wolf 6.5 Grendel Ammo originally appeared on Ammo.com

Hello, it's my first time entering this subreddit and coming to think about it, this conflict really. I live in Toronto and of non-Middle Eastern background, so much of our media covering the conflict is painted in a way that Israel is the victim and Hamas is the perpetrator and vice versa, therefore leaving a very ambiguous grey zone. Before I go on, I must inform you that I have very little knowledge to the conflict itself and the history behind Israel and Palestine, so sorry in advance if I offended you in any way.
So when Hamas attacked Israel on October 7, news outlets informed the public in a way that Israel was the victim. The next following days, protests were held at campus in support for Palestine, many of which were large and often times disrupting many people from moving anywhere. When I asked my lab partners (one of whom is an international student from Saudi Arabia, and two are Canadians following Islam) about the conflict, and why people are supporting Hamas despite them attacking first, I was called ignorant. I was taken aback since none of them told me any historical context and later told me that I was a zionist for not expressing my support. I retorted back to them that they never expressed any support for Ukraine, Hong Kong, the BLM movement, and the Indigenous people when their conflicts were huge. They proceeded to say that Israel is purposefully killing Palestinians and water down the Russian-Ukraine conflict as territorial expansion.
The term zionist felt off because since October 7, I've seen pro-Palestinians toss that word around with no clear definition (and I don't trust Wikipedia). So in my views, anyone is a zionist if the person a) has origins in Israel, b) is Jewish, c) not showing support for the protests, or d) anti-Hamas. University colleagues I follow on Instagram who were in support of Palestine spent the next following months repost horrific tragedies about the conflict on their stories, and while I felt sympathetic for their side, also felt annoyed at how often they're posting it. I am too afraid to say anything to them with the fear that I am pro-genocide when really I just want to watch a manatee video without any worries in the world. Same goes with TikTok. The amount of posts I've seen with comment sections filled with pro-Palestinian comments regardless of the post's relevancy to the conflict is both infuriating and annoying. For example, the Oscars, despite their controversies, had posted a video featuring a Pow Wow during the ceremony, a huge milestone in Indigenous representation. The comment section? "Yazan Kafarnah would have enjoyed this." Lady Gaga held a concert in Israel in 2013? "Blocked. All eyes on Rafah." A literal middle income American family making a seafood boil? "Children in Gaza could have been eating that." I understand many of the comments are pushing and sharing awareness on the conflict, but at this point it's so oversaturated that it feels almost forceful and tiresome because on one hand, yes Israel is targeting civilian areas, but on the other hand, you are telling me to block Lady Gaga just because she had a concert in Israel 11 years ago when no one protested at home or gave attention to the tensions.
Same goes with protests in the city. While many of them were peaceful and had good intentions, many also tend to sour the movement and cause. Near December around the winter break, a protest gathered near Zaras and after evolving into a riot when police were involved, some people chanting "death to the Israelites." Same goes with February this year when protests were marched down Hospital Avenue (nicknamed after the establishments of 4 hospitals on a single avenue, creative I know), most hospitals were unbothered except for the Jewish-founded hospital (Mount Sinai) where protesters obstructing entrances and exits, which is illegal, with some chanting antisemitic rhetoric while also waving the Palestinian flag on the property. I have family in Montreal who are Jewish (by marriage) who fear going to school and visiting the local synagogue after reports of shootings and stabbings near their place of worship, places that were supposed to be sanctuary to them. These protests were so severe that even the Prime Minister and mayors had to condemn them and label these protests as antisemitic. We can all acknowledge that the examples are from extremist views and that the majority of supporters would condemn these protests (I hope), or that I am cherry-picking. However, I have yet to see a Pro-Israel protest in person that does not include some online troll trying to toss fuel into the conflict on social media. I don't know, over these past months I was and still condemn genocide, however my support for Hamas never existed and felt Israeli-leaning as I started on a neutral stance, again, ambiguous grey zone. It's really hard for me to explain it but it follows along the lines of "I support you, I see you, but there's nothing I can do." I'm not surprised if I get a bombardment of downvotes since this whole post is biased in some way, I admit, but I am genuinely curious and want to know more.

Before I start, I just want to say this out because it's fucking bothering me beyond belief and I can't be quiet about this anymore.
Starting off, I personally was excited for the remake as, well, I've never played the original SH2 and I wanted to experience it properly. But of course, especially in today's time, we can't have nice things for even 5 seconds. I remembered hearing the first initial thoughts on the trailer, especially when James was essentially the crybaby looking dude and all, then the combat trailer showed improvements, yet again, people bitched and complained. Then now, people are all of a sudden happy to see it being revealed even though there is PLENTY of red flags present, but some people just choose to ignore it.
Now again, I've never played the Original SH2 (I didn't exist back in 2001) and I only really started to get into the franchise back in 2020. I've seen countless analysts videos on the game's themes and so on and so forth, and, well, it's a fantastic game! However, with that said and with having a good idea of the themes of SH2 and seeing the remakes changes...I'm honestly concerned and upset.
One of the biggest complaints from the beginning was essentially that Blooper Team had been the ones working on it. Blooper from what I've heard, is that they've had a pretty bad track record with representing mental illness that didn't resolve in ending your own life. Which, coming in terms of Silent Hill and how heavily it deals with Mental Illness, I can understand the worry. But I still wanted to give it a try...then the face for James came out and...to be honest, I didn't mind he was more emotional. Yeah yeah, OG SH2 James was essentially dead inside or he was processing everything, but to be honest, I kinda digged the direction. Combat trailer? People bitched about thr combat being "Resident Evil clone", like for fuck's sake, not everyone was a fan of the clunky attack controls, but this is a problem? And eventually, we reached today...and the textures and graphics.
The elephant sized problem in the room being Angela and her weird looking chin and her uncanny face. Now...I understand if this were to be a final concept trailer, but since this is the FINAL trailer with the release date and confirmation that THIS was our Angela? It felt extremely off. And before you start, this doesn't mean she should be remodeled into a super model or whatever and it's not about making her "hot", it's about making her look like of Eddie ate Angela and wore a cosplay of her to pass himself off as Angela. Her whole story is tragic, being a sexual assault victim from an early age and has problems when it comes to men (mostly James), and, while I'm not an expert on SA or the effects it has on people, but I'm pretty sure that this Angela would come off more as uncanny, but not in the way you think.
Then there's Maria...I mean, she looks fine, I personally have less problems with her...but I will stress this as I feel like this should be brought up more. But Maria feels like she was toned down from a sexual delinquent stripper down to some innocent shy girl that...to be honest would work much better with Heather from Silent Hill 3, but with Maria in the remake, she doesn't have the same...attractiveness to her. And it legitimately feels like they desexualized her down to nothingness...for a game that's literally about guilt and sexual deprivation. I can understand her outfit changing since her OG outfit was inspired from a real life actress' outfit, but she looks less sexy which...I mean it could work, she does look like someone whose a bit ashamed of her job as a stripper, but has to keep the Job to pay the bills. It just doesn't feel right.
The last negative thing I'd like to touch on is Blooper's involvement with a consultant group that's essentially a follow-up company that takes after a currently controversial consultant group that's responsible for the failings of different video games. Some may already know...but, for those that don't...Blooper essentially hired a consultant group called Hit Detection. HD takes after the formentionrd controversial consultant group, known as "Sweet Baby Inc". SBI is considered as controversial because they've been revealed to have held gaming studios in their grasp to inject politics at an extremely unhealthy rate, which then led to certain video game companies to bankruptcy. Yeah yeah yeah, some of you going "Oh is he anti-woke?", I'm honestly sick of having shit changed in the name of unnecessary politics and for "the message" when I'm just trying to enjoy something. Maybe I am anti-woke, I don't care, I just want to enjoy the remake of Silent Hill 2 that's faithful to the original game and doesn't have the most unnecessary and unfaithful changes available.
I fucking hate how I can't even enjoy something related to Silent Hill then all of a sudden a bunch of people bitching about it, just lemme enjoy this shit and hope that it's ACTUALLY GOOD.
Before I do finish off, I do want to talk about some positives...mainly that I like the little details of how James can be seen whipping out his map, how interactive and motion heavy it is, shit, the coolest thing is seeing that one creature CATCH James' pipe swing, now that's some interesting shit!
I have a lot of negative thoughts and concerns for the game...but I still hope that by the time it comes out, that the Silent Hill 2 Remake is good...or is halfway decent or on par with the original game.
Okay, thank you for listening to me vent, if you disagree with me, well, that's for you and honestly, more power to you. I just wanted to get this shit off my mind because I genuinely do want the reboot to be good. Okay, take care, and be safe.

This is an unaccustomed spectacle. For the first time, fellow-citizens, badges of mourning shroud the columns and overhang the arches of this hall. These walls, which were consecrated, so long ago, to the cause of American liberty, which witnessed her infant struggles and rung with the shouts of her earliest victories, proclaim, now, that distinguished friends and champions of that great cause have fallen. It is right that it should be thus. The tears which flow, and the honors that are paid, when the founders of the republic die, give hope that the republic itself may be immortal. It is fit that, by public assembly and solemn observance, by anthem and by eulogy, we commemorate the services of national benefactors, extol their virtues, and render thanks to God for eminent blessings, early given and long continued, through their agency, to our favored country.
ADAMS and JEFFERSON are no more; and we are assembled, fellow-citizens, the aged, the middle-aged, and the young, by the spontaneous impulse of all, under the authority of the municipal government, with the presence of the chief magistrate of the Commonwealth, and others its official representatives, the University, and the learned societies, to bear our part in these manifestations of respect and gratitude which pervade the whole land. ADAMS and JEFFERSON are no more. On our fiftieth anniversary, the great day of national jubilee, in the very hour of public rejoicing, in the midst of echoing and reechoing voices of thanksgiving, while their own names were on all tongues, they took their flight together to the world of spirits.
If it be true that no one can safely be pronounced happy while he lives, if that event which terminates life can alone crown its honors and its glory, what felicity is here! The great epic of their lives, how happily concluded! Poetry itself has hardly terminated illustrious lives, and finished the career of earthly renown, by such a consummation. If we had the power, we could not wish to reverse this dispensation of the Divine Providence. The great objects of life were accomplished, the drama was ready to be closed. It has closed; our patriots have fallen; but so fallen, at such age, with such coincidence, on such a day, that we cannot rationally lament that the end has come, which we knew could not be long deferred.
Neither of these great men, fellow-citizens, could have died, at any time, without leaving an immense void in our American society. They have been so intimately, and ofr so long a time, blended with the history of the country, and especially so united, in our thoughts and recollections, with the events of the Revolution, that the death of either of them would have touched the chords of public sympathy. We should have felt that one great link, connecting us with former times, was broken; that we had lost something more, as it were, of the presence of the Revolution itself, and of the act of independence, and were driven on, by another great remove from the days of our country’s early distinction, to meet posterity and to mix with the future. Like the mariner, whom the currents of the ocean and the winds carry along until he sees the stars which have directed his course and lighted his pathless way descend one by one, beneath the rising horizon, we should have felt that the stream of time had borne us onward till another great luminary, whose light had cheered us and whose guidance we had followed, had sunk away from our sight.
But the concurrence of their death on the anniversary of Independence has naturally awakened stronger emotions. Both had been President, both had lived to great age, both were early patriots, and both were distinguished and ever honored by their immediate agency in the act of independence. It cannot but seem striking and extraordinary, that these two should live to see the fiftieth year from the date of that act/ that they should complete that yea and that then, on the day which had fast linked for ever their own fame with their country’s glory, the heavens should open to receive them both at once. As their lives themselves were the gifts of Providence, who is not willing to recognize in their happy termination, as well as in their long continuance, proofs that our country and its benefactors are objects of His care?
ADAMS and JEFFERSON, I have said, are no more. As human beings, indeed, they are no more. They are no more, as in 1776, bold and fearless advocates of independence; no more, as at subsequent periods, the head of the government; nor more, as we have recently seen them, aged and venerable objects of admiration and regard. They are no more. They are dead. But how little is there of the great and gooe which can die! To their country they yet live, and live for ever. They live in all that perpetuatesw the remembrance of men on earth; in the recorded proofs of their own great actions, in the offspring of their intellect, in the deep-engraved lines of public gratitude, and in the respect and homage of mankind. They live in their example; and they live, emphatically, and will live, in the influence which their lives and efforts, their principles and opinions, now exerciese, and will continue to exercise, on the affairs of men, not only in their own country but throughout the civilized world. A superior and commanding human intellect, a truly great man, when Heaven vouchsafes so rare a gift, is not a temporary flame, burning brightly for a while, and then giving place to returning darkness. It is rather a spark of fervent heat, as well as radiant light, with power to enkindle the common mass of human kind; so that when it glimmers in its own decay, and finally goes out in death, no night follows, but it leaves the world all light, all on fire from the potent contact of its own spirit. Bacon died; but the human understanding, roused by the touch of his miraculous wand to a perception of the true philosophy and the just mode of inquiring after truth, has kept on its course successfully and gloriously. Newton died; yet the courses of the spheres are still known, and they yet move on by the laws which he discovered, and in the orbits which he saw, and described for them, in the infinity of space.
No two men now live, fellow-citizen, perhaps it may be doubted whether any two men have ever lived in one age, who, more than those we now commemorate, have impressed on mankind their own opinions more deeply into the opinions of others, or given a more lasting direction to the current of human thought. Their work doth not perish with them. The tree which they assisted to plant will flourish, although they water it and protect it no longer; for it has struck its roots deep, it has sent them to the very centre; no storm, not of foce to burth the orb, can overturn it; its branches spread wide; they stretch their protecting arms braoder and broader, and its top is destined to reach the heavens. We are not deceived. There is no delusion here. No age will come in which the American Revolution will appear less than it is, one of the greatest events in human history. No age will come in which it shall cease to be seen and felt, on either continent, that a mighty step, a great advance, not only in American affairs, but in human affairs, was made on the 4th of July, 1776. And no age will come, we trust, so ignorant or so unjust as not to see and acknowledge the efficient agency of those we now honor in producing that momentous event.
We are not assembled, therefore, fellow-citizens, as men overwhelmed with calamity by the sudden disruption of the ties of friendship or affection, or as in despair for the republic by the untimely blighting of its hopes. Death has not surprised us by an unseasonable blow. We have, indeed, seen the tomb close, but it has closed only over mature years, over long-protracted public service, over the weakness of age, and over life itself only when the ends of living had been fulfilled. These suns, as they rose slowly and steadily, amidst clouds and storms, in their ascendant, so they have not rushed from the meridian to sink suddenly in the west. Like the mildness, the serenity, the continuing benignity of a summer’s day, they have gone down with slow-descending, grateful long-lingering light; and now that they are beyond the visible margin of the world, good omens cheer us from “the bright track of thier fiery car”!
There were many points of similarity in the lives and fortunes of these great men. They belonged to the same profession, and had pursued its studies and its practice for unequal lengths of time indeed, but with dilligence and effect. Both were learned and able lawyers. They were natives and inhabitants, respectively of those two of the Colonies which at the Revolution were the largest and most powerful and which naturally had a lead in the political affairs of the times. When the Colonies became in some degree united by the assembling of a general Congress, they were brought to act together in its deliberations, not indeed at the same time but both at early periods. Each had laready manifested his attachment to the cause of the country, as well as his ability to maintain it, by printed addresses, public speeches, extensive correspondence, and whatever other mode could be adopted for the purpose of exposing the encroachments of the British Parliament, and animating the people to a manly resistance. Both were not only decided, but early, friends of Independence. While others yet doubted, they were resolved; where others hesitated they pressed forward. They were both members of the committee for preparing the Declaration of Independence, and they constituted the sub-committee appointed by the other members to make the draft. They left their seats in Congress, being called to other public employments at periods not remote from each other, although one of them returned to it afterwards for a short time. Neither of them was of the assembly of great men which formed the present Constitution, and neither was at any time a member of Congress under its provisions. Both have been public ministers abroad, both Vice-Presidents and both Presidents of the United States. These coincidences are now singularly crowned and completed. They have died together; and they did on the anniversary of liberty…
And now, fellow-citizens, without pursuing the biography of these illustrious men further, for the present let us turn our attention to the most prominent act of their lives, their participation in the DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE…
It has sometimes been said, as if it were a derogation from the merits of this paper, that it contains nothing new; that it only states grounds of proceeding and presses topics of argument, which had often been stated and pressed before. But it was not the object of the Declaration to produce any thing new. It was not to invent reasons for independence, but to state those which governed the Congress. For great and sufficient causes, it was proposed to declare independence; and the proper business of the paper to be drawn was to set for th those causes, and justify the authors of the measure, in any event of fortune, to mthe country and to posterity. The cause of American independence, moreover, was now to be presented to the world in such manner; of it might so be, as to engage its sympathy, to command its respect, to attract its admiration; and in an assembly of most able and distinguished men, THOMAS JEFFERSON had the high honor of being the selected advocate of this cause. To say that he performed his great work well, would be doing him an injustice. To say that he did excellently well, admirably well, would be inadequate and halting praise. Let us rather say, that he so discharged the duty assigned him, that all Americans may well rejoice that the work of drawing the title-deed of their liberties devolved upon him…
The Congress of the Revolution, fellow-citizens, sat with closed doors, and no report of its debates was ever made. The discussion, therefore, which accompanied this great measure, has never been preserved, except in memory and by tradition. But it is, I believe, doing to injustice to others to say, that the general opinion was, and uniformly has been, that in debate, on the side of independence, JOHN ADAMS had no equal. The great author of the Declaration himself has espressed that opinion uniformly and strongly. JOHN ADAMS, said he, in the hearing of him who has now the honor to address you, JOHN ADAMS was our colossus on the floor. Not graceful, not elegant, not always fluent, in his public addresses, he yet came out with a power both of thought and of expression, which moved us from our seats…
The eloquence of Mr. Adams resembled his general character, and formed, indeed, a part of it. It was bold, manly, and energetic; and such the crisis required. When public bodies are to be addressed on passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech farther than as it is connected with high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities which produce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occassion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire to it; they cannot reach it. It comes, if it comes at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives and the fate of their wives, their children, and their country hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism is eloquent; then self-devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his object this, this is eloquence; or rather it is something greater and higher than all eloquence, it is action, noble, sublime godlike action…
Let us, then, bring before us the assembly, which was about to decide a question thus big with the fate of empire. Let us open their doors and look upon their deliberations. Let us survey the anxious and care-worn countenances, let us hear the firm-toned voices, of this band of patriots.
HANCOCK presides over the solemn sitting; and one of those not yet prepared to pronounce for absolute independence is on the floor, and is urging his reasons for dissenting from the declaration.
“Let us pause! This step, once taken, cannot be retracted. This resolution, once passed, will cut off all hope of reconciliation. If success attend the arms of England, we shall then be no longer Colonies, with charters and with privileges; these will all be forfeited by this act; and we shall be in the condition of other conquered people, at the mercy of the conquerors. For ourselves, we may be ready to run the hazard; but are we ready to carry the country to that length? Is success so probably as to justify it? Where is the military, where the naval power, by which we are to resist the whole strength of the arm of England, for she will exert that strength to the utmost? Can we rely on constancy and perseverance of the people? or will they not act as the people of other countries have acted and, wearied with a long war, submit, in the end, to a worse oppression? While we stand on our old ground, and insist on redress of grievances, we know we are right, and are not answerable for consequences. Nothing, then, can be imputed to us. But if we now change our object, carry our pretensions farther, and set up for absolute indpendence, we shall lose the sympathy of mankind. We shall no longer be defending what we possess, but struggling for something which we never did possess, and which we have solemnly and uniformly disclaimed all intention of pursuing, from the very outset of the troubles. Abandoning thus our old ground, of resistance only to arbitrary acts of oppression, thee nations will believe the whole to have been mere pretence, and they will look on us, not as injured, buut as ambitious subjects. I shudder before this responsibility. It will be on us, if, relinquishing the ground on which we have stood so long, and stood so safely, we now proclaim independence, and carry on the war for that object, while these cities burn, these pleasant fields whiten and bleach with the bones of their owners, and these streams run blood. It will be upon us, it will be upon us, if, failing to maintain this unseasonable and ill-judged declaration, a sterner despotism, maintained by military power, shall be exhausted, a harassed, misled people, shall have expiated our rashness and atoned for our presumption on the scaffold.”
It was for Mr. Adams to reply to arguments like these. We know his opinions, and we know his character. He would commence with his accustomed directness and earnestness.
“Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that in the beginning we aimed not at independence. But there’s a Divinity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven us to arms; and blinded to her own interest for our good, she has obstinately persisted, till independence is now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we defer the Declaration? Is any man so weak as now to hope for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to his own life and his own honor? Are not you, Sir, who sit in that chair, is not he, our venerable colleague near you, are you not both already the proscribed and predestined objects of punishment and of vengeance? Cut off from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws? If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or to give up, the war? Do we mean to submit to the measures of Parliament, Boston Port Bill and all? Do we mean to submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be ground to poweder, and our country and its rights trodden down in the dust? I know we do not mean to submit. We shall never submit. Do we intend to violate that most solemn obligation ever entered into men, that plighting, before God, of our sacred honor to Washington, when, putting forth to incure the dangers of war, as well as the political hazards of our times, we promised to adhere to him, in ever extremity, with our fortunes and our lives? I know there is not a man here, who would not rather see a general conflagration sweep over the land, or an earthquake sink it, than one jot or tittle of that plighted fiath fall to the ground. For myself, having, twelve months ago, in this place, moved you, that George Washington be appointed commander of the forces raised, or to be raised, for defence of American liberty, may my right hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him… ”
And now, fellow-citizens, let us not retire from this occasion without a deep and solemn conviction of the duties which have developed upon us. This lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign institutions, the dear purchase of our fathers, are ours; ours to enjoy, ours to preserve, ours to transmit. Generations past and generations to come hold us responsible for this sacred trust. Our fathers, from behind, admonish us, with their anxious paternal voices; posterity calls out to us, from the bosom of the future; the world turns hither its solicitous eyes; all, conjure us to act wisely, and faithfully, in the relation which we sustain.
We can never, indeed, pay the debt which is upon us; but by virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of every good principle and every good habit, we may hope to enjoy the blessing, through our day, and to leave it unimpaired to our children. Let us feel deeply how much of what we are and of what we possess we owe to this liberty, and to these institutions of government. Nature has, indeed, given us a soil which yields bounteously to the hand of industry, the mighty and fruitful ocean is before us, and the skies over our heads shed health and vigor. But what are lands, and seas, and skies, to civilized man, without society, without knowledge, without morals, without religious culture; and how can these be enjoyed, in all their extent and all their excellence, but under the protection of wise institutions and a free government? Fellow-citizens, there is not one of us, there is not one of us here present, who does not, at this moment, and at every moment, experience, in his own condition, and in the condition of those most near and dear to him, the influence and the benefits, of this liberty and these institutions. Let us then acknowledge the blessing, let us feel it deeply and powerfully, let us cherish a strong affection for it, and resolve to maintain and perpetuate it. The blood of our fathers, let it not have been shed in vain; the great hope of posterity, let it not be blasted.
The striking attitude, too, in which we stand to the world around us, a topic to which, I fear, I advert too often, and dwell on too long, cannot be altogether ommited here. Neither individuals nor nations can perform their part well, until they understand and feel its importance, and comprehend and justly appreciate all the duties belonging to it. It is not to inflate national vanity, nor to swell a light and empty feeling of self-importance, but it is that we may judge justly of our situation, and of our own duties, that I earnestly urge you upon this consideration of our position and our character among the nations of the earth. It cannot be denied, but by those who would dispute against the sun, that with America, and in America, a new era commences in human affairs. This era is distinguised by free representative governments, by entire religious liberty, by improved systems of national intercourse, by a newly awakened and unconquerable spirit of free inquiry, and by a diffusion of knowledge through the community, such as has been before altogether unknown and unheard of America, America, our country, fellow-citizens, our own dear and native land, is inseparably connected, fast bound up, in fortune and by fate, with these great interests. If they fall, we fall with them; if they stand, it will be because we have maintained them. Let us contemplate, then, this connection, which binds the prosperity of others to our own; and let us manfully discharge all the duties which it imposes. If we cherish the virtues and the principles of our fathers, Heaven will assist us to carry on the work of human liberty and human happiness. Auspicious omens cheer us. Great examples are before us. Our own firmament now shines brightly upon our path. WASHINGTON is in the clear, upper sky. These other stars hae now joined the American Constellation; they circle round their centre, and the heavens beam with new light. Beneath this illumination let us walk the course of life, and at its close devoutly commend our beloved country, the common parent of us all, to the Divine Benignity.

• Daniel Webster, 1826

Ok, this is a bit of a convoluted mess, and I am not sure what I am even supposed to do, it involves three computers.
Computer 1: This is a 3770K system I built in 2012. I installed Windows 7 Pro on it, and eventually upgraded that to Windows 10 Pro.
Computer 2: This is a 3rd gen (Or was it 2nd gen?) i7 Laptop, it came with Windows 8 Home, but I hated 8 so much I went and got another copy of 7 Pro, wiped it's drive, and installed that. I also eventually upgraded this to 10.
Computer 3: This is a 11700K system I built recently, currently does not have a key, I am on a temporary Windows 10 install for now.
I am pretty sure I used a local account on both 1 and 2, MAYBE Computer 2 had an online account.
Anyway, computer 1 has been giving me problems lately, taking multiple attempts to actually turn on. It has a lot of data and configurations that I do not want to start over on however, so I am planning to clone the install to Computer 3.
Computer 2 is dead, completely. As in physically fried, didn't see the smoke but I definitely smelled it. That thing is not going to be working again.
Since I still want to see if I can fix up Computer 1 as a backup, I don't want to de-activate or transfer my license from it. Since Computer 2 is fried however and since I used a retail key on it and not the original OEM key it came with, I want to try to use it's key on the 11700K system.
Since Computer 2's HDD is perfectly fine even though the motherboard is fried, I temporarily placed it in the 3770K system to try to extract it's key.
I tried looking up ways to find it's key, but almost all failed. Eventually I looked up a site that told me three different ways to get a key. One was with the wmic command in the command prompt... which did not work, the other was a PowerShell command... that also did not work. But it also told me to look in a location in my registry and I got what APPEARS to be the key there, however, when I swapped Computer 1's original HDD back in, the SAME key appeared. I don't know if somehow Windows replaced Computer 2's key with Computer 1's key when I connected it online (I accidently ran Windows Update on it, which updated to 22H2 when it was several versions behind previously, dunno if that did it).
I also have no idea how to properly go about this and how to properly transfer it to the cloned OS. First of all, if I boot up the cloned OS on Computer 3, will it de-activate the install on Computer 1 if I take them both online? If not and Computer 3 just simply won't auto-activate, do I need to de-activate the key on the Computer 2 drive first? Problem with that is that the HDD from Computer 2 is in Computer 1 since the original system it was from is fried, if I de-activate the key on Computer 2's HDD while it's in Computer 1 will it actually flag the hardware in Computer 1 as de-activated and then it's original Windows 10 install on it's SSD once I re-connect it will no longer be activated? Can I just try to activate the extracted key from the registry (assuming it's correct, but I am worried it will de-activate Computer 1 instead) on Computer 3 and not bother worry about de-activating it on Computer 2's HDD first?
And also, it will be a while until I can fully re-configure the cloned install from Computer 1 to Computer 3 so as I said, I have a temporary install on Computer 3 for now. Can I activate the key on said temporary install and still have it work when I wipe it and copy over the cloned install from Computer 1? I know that Windows assigns some type of hardware ID to the key so as long as too much of the original hardware does not change it can re-activate the system, but I have no idea if that can get mixed up if you then connect an OS that has a different key assigned to it to a system that was already activated with a different key, both of them being retail keys and not OEM.
If there is nothing I can do myself to recover that key, would Microsoft somehow be able to determine what key I had on Computer 2 and see that it has not been used in years so I can re-use it on Computer 3? It is a retail key that I purchased (I think it was even directly from them) and upgraded to Windows 10 years ago after all, I should still own it right? Can't really afford to buy another Windows key so I really need to recover that one.