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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!

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

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

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

No one can stop me.

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

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

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

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

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

The profusion of identical green tents at this spring’s anti-Israel protests struck many as odd. “Why is everybody’s tent the same?,” asked New York mayor Eric Adams. Like others, the mayor suspected “a well-concerted organizing effort” driving the protests. More recent reporting shows a concerted push behind the Gaza protest movement. But it is not as simple as a single organization secretly rallying protesters or buying tents. Instead, the movement’s most determined activists represent a network of loosely linked far-left groups. Some are openly affiliated with well-known progressive nonprofits; others work in the shadows.
The movement also draws on diverse but generous sources of financial backing. Those funding streams may soon be augmented by the federal government. As I chronicled last year in a Manhattan Institute report, “The Big Squeeze: How Biden’s Environmental Justice Agenda Hurts the Economy and the Environment,” the administration’s massive program of environmental justice grants seems designed to prioritize the funding of highly ideological local groups. The Inflation Reduction Act, for example, earmarks $3 billion for “environmental and climate justice block grants” intended for local nonprofits. Today, hundreds of far-left political groups include language about environmental issues and “climate justice” in their mission statements. If just a fraction of planned grants flows to such groups, the effect will be a gusher of new funding for radical causes.
As the Gaza protests spread across U.S. college campuses, many observers noted an eerie uniformity among them. From one campus to the next, protesters operated in disciplined cadres, keeping their faces covered and using identical rote phrases as they refused to talk with reporters. The Atlantic noted the strangeness of seeing elite college students “chanting like automatons.” Students held up keffiyeh scarves or umbrellas to block the view of prying cameras and linked arms to halt the movements of outsiders. At Columbia University and elsewhere, protesters formed “liberated zones,” from which “Zionists” were excluded. Around the edges of the encampments, the more militaristic activists donned helmets and goggles and carried crude weapons, apparently eager to mix it up with police or counter-protesters. We’ve seen these tactics before—notably during the “mostly peaceful” Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, when full-time agitators helped ignite riots, set up a police-free (and violence-plagued) zone in Seattle, and laid nightly siege to Portland, Oregon’s federal courthouse.
In a remarkable work of reporting, Park MacDougald recently traced the tangled roots of organizations backing pro-jihad protests, both on and off campuses. These include Antifa and other networks of anonymous anarchists, along with “various communist and Marxist-Leninist groups, including the Maoist Revolutionary Communist Party, the Party for Socialism and Liberation (PSL), and the International ANSWER coalition,” MacDougald writes. Higher up the food chain, we find groups openly supported by America’s growing class of super-rich tech execs or the anti-capitalist heirs of great fortunes. For example, retired tech mogul Neville Roy Singham, who is married to Code Pink founder Jodie Evans, funds The People’s Forum, a lavish Manhattan resource center for far-left groups. As the Columbia protests intensified, the center urged members to head uptown to “support our students.” Following the money trail of other protest groups, MacDougald finds connections to the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, the Ford Foundation, and—surprising no one—the George Soros-backed Tides Foundation.
Of course, the current wave of anti-Israel protests also involves alliances with pro-Hamas organizations such as Students for Justice in Palestine. Last November, Jonathan Schanzer of the Foundation for Defense of Democracies testified to the House Ways and Means Committee that SJP and similar groups have deep ties to global terrorist organizations, including Hamas.
For many keffiyeh-wearing protestors, however, a recently professed concern for Palestinians is just the latest in a long list of causes they believe justify taking over streets and college quads. In Unherd, Mary Harrington dubs this medley of political beliefs the “omnicause,” writing that “all contemporary radical causes seem somehow to have been absorbed into one.” Today’s leftist activists share an interlocking worldview that sees racism, income inequality, trans intolerance, climate change, alleged police violence, and Israeli-Palestinian conflicts all as products of capitalism and “colonialism.” Therefore, the stated rationale for any individual protest is a stand-in for the real battle: attacking Western society and its institutions.
In the U.S., this type of general-purpose uprising goes back at least to the riots at the 1999 meeting of the World Trade Organization in Seattle. In those protests, mainstream liberal factions—including labor unions and environmentalists—were joined by “black bloc” anarchists and other radicals eager to engage in “direct action” against police. That pattern—relatively moderate demonstrators providing a friendly envelope for hard-core disruptors—formed the template for many later protests: the Occupy Wall Street encampments in 2011, demonstrations following the police shooting of Michael Brown in 2014, 2016’s Standing Rock anti-pipeline movement, and of course, the calamitous summer of 2020.
These uprisings were not entirely spontaneous. In some cases, activists spend months planning mass actions—for example, against economic summits or political conventions—and can recruit street fighters from across the country. In others, an event, such as George Floyd’s death, sparks popular protests involving neophyte demonstrators. Those attract far-left activists, who swoop in to organize and expand the struggle, often tilting it toward more radical action.
That has certainly been the case at the college Gaza-paloozas. At Columbia, the New York Times spotted a woman old enough to be a student’s grandmother in the thick of the action as protesters barricaded that school’s Hamilton Hall. The woman was 63-year-old Lisa Fithian, a lifetime activist, who Portland’s alternative weekly Street Roots approvingly calls “a trainer of mass rebellion.” A counter-protester trying to block the pro-Hamas demonstrators told NBC News, “She was right in the middle of it, instructing them how to better set up the barriers.” Fithian told the Times she’d been invited to train students in protest safety and “general logistics.” She claims to have taken part in almost every major U.S. protest movement going back to the 1999 “Battle in Seattle.”
America’s radical network has plenty of Lisa Fithians, with the time and resources to travel the country educating newcomers about the “logistics” of disruptive protests. And these activists appear to have played key roles in the college occupations. The New York City Police Department says nearly half the demonstrators arrested on the Columbia and City University of New York (CUNY) campuses on April 30 were not affiliated with the schools. One hooded Hamilton Hall occupier—photographed scuffling with a Columbia custodian before getting arrested—turned out to be 40-year-old James Carlson, heir to a large advertising fortune. According to the New York Post, Carlson lives in a $2.3 million Park Slope townhouse and has a long rap sheet. For example, in 2005, he was arrested in San Francisco during the violent “West Coast Anti-Capitalist Mobilization and March Against the G8.” (Those charges were dropped.)
For a quarter-century now, Antifa and other anarchist networks have worked to refine tactics and share lessons following each major action. At Columbia, UCLA, and other schools, authorities found printouts of a “Do-It Yourself Occupation Guide” and similar documents. The young campus radicals are eager to learn from their more experienced elders. And, like the high-achieving students they are, they follow directions carefully. MacDougald asked Kyle Shideler, the director for homeland security and counterterrorism at the Center for Security Policy, about the mystery of the identical tents. There was no need for a central group to distribute hundreds of tents, Shideler said. Instead, “the organizers told [students] to buy a tent, and sent around a Google Doc with a link to that specific tent on Amazon. So they all went out and bought the same tent.”
In other words, America’s radical class has gotten very skilled at recruiting and instructing new activists—even from among the ranks of elite college students with a good deal to lose. How much more could this movement accomplish with hundreds of millions in federal dollars flooding activist groups around the country?
From its first week in office, the Biden administration has trumpeted its goal to funnel more environmental spending toward “disadvantaged communities that have been historically marginalized,” partly by issuing grants to grassroots organizations. Previous environmental justice (EJ) grant programs were small in scope. But, with the passage of the Inflation Reduction Act (IRA) in August 2022, a huge pool of grant money became available. EPA administrator Michael Regan told reporters, “We’re going from tens of thousands of dollars to developing and designing a program that will distribute billions.”
More than a year and a half later, it remains hard to nail down just where the Biden administration’s billions in EJ grants will wind up. Money is being distributed through a confusing variety of programs, and the process of identifying recipients is ongoing. To help outsource the job of sifting through proposals, the EPA last year designated 11 institutions as “Environmental Justice Thriving Communities Grantmakers.” These groups are empowered to make subgrants directly to community organizations, under streamlined EPA oversight. In all, the Biden administration has entrusted these outfits with distributing a staggering $600 million in funding. The money is expected to start flowing this summer.
The EPA’s grantmakers include a number of educational institutions and left-leaning nonprofits. For example, the EPA chose Fordham University as its lead grantmaker in the New York region. Fordham, in turn, lists as partners two nonprofits that oppose immigration enforcement. (One, the New Jersey Alliance for Immigrant Justice, states on its website: “NJAIJ believes in the human right to migrate, regardless of citizenship or political status.”) Neither group claims expertise in environmental issues. Given that the IRA’s eligibility requirements for EJ grants are extremely vague, however, perhaps that’s not a problem. Almost any activity that could help “spur economic opportunity for disadvantaged communities” (in the words of Biden’s EJ executive order) might qualify.
Perhaps the most prominent—and problematic—EPA grantmaker is the Berkeley, California-based Climate Justice Alliance. The CJA is a consortium of mostly far-left activist groups. It describes its mission as working for “regenerative economic solutions and ecological justice—under a framework that challenges capitalism and both white supremacy and hetero-patriarchy.” The group is a vigorous proponent of the omnicause, embracing almost every left-wing concern as a manifestation of climate change. For example, the CJA website proclaims: “The path to climate justice travels through a free Palestine.” MacDougald notes that the Grassroots Global Justice Alliance, one of CJA’s affiliated groups, “organized an illegal anti-Israel protest in the Capitol Rotunda in December at which more than 50 activists were arrested.”
The CJA website also includes a section dedicated to the cause known as Stop Cop City. It refers to an effort to halt the construction of an 85-acre police and firefighter training center outside Atlanta. Rag-tag activists from around the country have gathered around the facility since 2021. They have repeatedly battled with police—sometimes with fireworks and Molotov cocktails—and used bolt cutters to enter the site and torch construction equipment. (CJA’s Stop Cop City page features a cartoon illustration of three childlike activists; one brandishes bolt cutters.) The group also backs a legal defense fund for activists arrested in attacks on the training center or in other protests. For those looking for more inspiration, CJA links to an interview with former Black Panther and self-described revolutionary Angela Davis.
The Alliance is not an ideological outlier in Biden’s EJ coalition. On the contrary, when the White House assembled its White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council (WHEJAC), a panel of outside experts meant to provide “horizon-expanding EJ advice and recommendations,” it chose CJA co-chair Elizabeth Yeampierre to help lead the committee. Like other members of the panel, she sees environmental issues through an ideological, not a scientific, lens. “Climate change is the result of a legacy of extraction, of colonialism, of slavery,” Yeampierre told Yale Environment 360. As a group, radical EJ activists tend not to focus on pragmatic ways to reduce pollution and carbon emissions; for them, the real goal is overturning what they see as an exploitative economic and political system. Since these are the voices the White House chose to help shape its EJ policies, we can assume this worldview will dominate grantmaking decisions.
In February 2023, House Oversight Committee chairman James Comer, along with fellow committee member Pat Fallon, wrote to EPA administrator Regan asking for more information on the EPA’s grant programs. They noted that the EPA’s own studies of EJ grants issued in previous years showed sloppy supervision. According to an EPA report, an earlier version of the program funded projects that did “not logically lead to the desired environmental and/or public health [result].” Without better oversight and more clearly defined goals, the congressmen wrote, the EPA’s EJ grant machine risks becoming simply a “slush fund for far-left organizations.”
Since then, the administration has done little to reassure skeptics. To the contrary, the EPA has put at least one far-left organization—CJA—in charge of distributing $50 million in grant money. No doubt, many of the EPA grants will go to worthwhile projects. But money is fungible. A group that gets a large grant to, say, clean up dirty parks or teach children about recycling will also be able to hire more staff and divert more resources to political action.
With graduation behind them, most of the anti-Israel college protesters have stowed away their keffiyehs and moved on to summer vacations or internships. But the peripatetic activists who helped guide and intensify those uprisings are doubtless already planning their next actions. After all, two political conventions are looming. This fall, the college protests will likely flare up again, though by then perhaps focused on a different facet of the omnicause. And, with hundreds of millions in fresh funding flowing through the activist ecosystem, the groups that quietly nurture extremists—like those who firebombed “Cop City,” or who chant “Intifada Revolution!,” or who block bridges in the name of “climate”—will be more emboldened than ever.
A Slush Fund for Radical Protesters? City Journal (city-journal.org)
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You ever met a rich crackhead chick who’s parents bought her and her heroin addicted boyfriend a whole house, a new car, monthly allowance and seen it all come crashing down? This sounds like a fantasy, but it’s actually reality in the streets of Montgomery County, MD. This is the life of a rich crackhead named Amy.
Before I tell you about Amy, we gotta get the background first and go all the way back to 2021(if you want to skip and get right to Amy, just go to paragraph 11/12, but you’ll miss out on a lot). It’s the year 2021, I had just came back a couple months ago from pulling off EDD fraud. One day I was driving drop top mustangs in Malibu, the next I’m seeing my accounts get frozen and my money slowly begin to dwindle down. Before I knew it I was back in DC, broke and back to square one. Now from the time I was in Cali to the time I returned a lot of shit happened. I fell off with a lot of people, so I found myself hanging around an unusual crowd of people, the Bethesda kids.
You see before I dropped out of Towson University, I had met this nigga named LP, he was from Bowie and he went to school out Bethesda, but me and him got along because we had two things in common: we both liked DMV music, and we both liked to party our asses tf off. But that’s a story for another day.
You see LP put me on to a lot of people from Bathesda, I had never really hung around white folks before, and with the connections he gave me i made friends with a couple of crackas and even met my now deceased ex girlfriend. I was going to the craziest white functions and constantly turning up. But I saw more than a chance to have fun, saw this as a money making opportunity🤑 cha ching! And it was through LP that I met some friends who introduced me to a nigga named Swervy.
You see them white folks love to drink beer and smoke weed at parks, so one day I’m meeting up wit one of my good men, Ju. Ju is the typical school shooter typa fella, so it’s no surprise what I saw when I linked up with him at the spot. With him was this long haired European foreign exchange motherfucker whose name I forgot, and this bearded Eastern European nigga named Swervy, and he was wildin the fuck out. Mind you I’m from the projects, and all these bathesda niggas I’m meeting are rich ass motherfuckers who live in multi million dollar mansions. Keep in mind these cats may be rich, but everybody out bathesda is rich so these are basically the rejects. Pretty much the closest thing to a street nigga you can find out there.
As I’m getting introduced to some of these cats, Swervy pulls out a syringe. So I ask “Man wtf is this man doing,” “He’s shooting up fent” casually says Ju. That was the first time I ever witnessed someone shooting up a drug, and it wouldn’t be the last. Swervy would eventually become Amy’s boyfriend. And he was quite the yapper, he’s one of those motherfuckers who peaked in high school, and now he’s just watching his life come spiraling down, at least that is until he meets Amy…
In this meet up I learn a lot about Swervy. He was basically a kingpin at the age of 16-17. He would get shipments of 10’s of thousands of Xanax bars and sell them like hotdogs at a baseball game. These weren’t your regular junkies, these are the children of senators, buisness owners and lawyers. So you didn’t have to worry about a junkie saying he’ll pay you back, money was nothing to these crazy ass white folks. In the midst of all this yapping, I hear something that caught my attention.
“Yea so basically my cousins got like seven pounds of weed and 500gs of thc wax that they’ll give me if I can pick it up, it’s all the way in Arizona” Says Swervy.
🤑🤑🤑Cha mothafucking ching! This was the money I was talking about. Now driving cross country with pounds of weed and concentrate was risky, but shit I’d give my left nutsack for that kind of opportunity. And I might as well have, because a week later I was on my way to Tucson, with this Russian speaking drug addict I had just met the other day. Mind you I’m driving around in a red Lancer, with paper Vermont tags that I had printed online. I might as well Have went up to the police station and asked any of them if they wanted to buy drugs. My young naive dumbass didn’t realize the risk, all I was thinking about was 🤑🤑🤑 cha Ching!
I can sit here all day and tell you about that drive to Arizona, but imma keep it short and simple so we can get to this Amy chick. It was a fucking disaster, but we end up somehow making it back. We got the pounds and the concentrate, but it was all fucking shake! I’d be lucky to sell that shit for $100 a zip. Anyways, the trip opened my eyes to something, this nigga Swervy was a crashout crackhead dummy, and if I continue hanging out with him I was gonna end up dead or in jail. So I begin distancing myself, as I watched this man throw his life away from a far.
Now months go by, and at this point I’m like the street life ain’t for me and I’m working a job, I got a girlfriend and I’m staying low and just cooling it, with these pounds of weed that was so garbage, I was giving it away like charity donations. I had that goodwill pack! Just as things settle down that’s when Swervy comes back in contact with me. You see last time I had linked him, this man was overdosing off fent and we had to drive him to the hospital and save his life. But to my surprise, he was a changed man, or at least that’s what I thought...
He now has this girlfriend and he lives with her in germantown. You see me I’m baffled and curious, what crazy bitch would date this crazy motherfucker who’d probably sell his soul for one shot of heroin? I just had to find out. And when I met Amy I just didn’t know what to say. She was in her 30s and Swervy and me were in our early twenties. Amy was this slim, blonde hair, blue eyed Czechoslovakian chick who stood at about 5’7”. She wasn’t attractive by no means, you can tell the drugs did it’s toll on her, but if you’re drunk enough she can probably look fuckable. She had her degree in psychology from UMBC, but don’t be fooled her brain seemed like it was long fried. A conversation with her felt like a trip to the mental asylum. You will have better luck deciphering ancient Egyptian hyrogriphics before you can make sense of a word she says. Regardless I genuinely tried to get to know her. My guess was at some point in life she must’ve took a full sheet of acid and never recovered since. But she had her own two bedroom condo with a view of Sugarloaf mountain, a Pomeranian dog(which Swervy fucking hated), and a new jeep. So regardless I was impressed this crackhead motherfucker managed to bag her. So I asked him “Where did you find this shawty?” “At a hookah lounge in Rockville” he told me. That’s right folks, a fucking hookah lounge. Boi when I tell you after that, I was hitting up hookah spots like I had season tickets!
So I’m hanging out with them a lot now basically third wheeling, but Germantown was a long ass motherfucking drive, and I lived at the borderline to DC so I would even spend some nights in their guest bedroom. This Amy chick had parents that paid for her gas money and food, they had a fireplace and a balcony. And I can enjoy the comfort of all this as long as I occasionally bring some weed to smoke. And me I’m not one of those leeching ass bums, so the only time I’m hanging out with them is when I’m invited. And I got invited a lot, probably because Amy’s a bit cuukoo and Swervy had either robbed or scared off all his friends from Bathesda. He wanted someone to give him a break from her, a bro he can drink a beer with. So I would often times accompany them. One time we were at Buffalo Wild Wings, and as I sit across from both of them Amy begins playing footsies with me under the table. Of course I play it cool. I had no interest in her, mainly because Swervy hits raw and takes hepatitis medication, also having witnessed this man hold a bunch of homeless niggas at gunpoint in broad day light after I lost my phone at this gas station in Arizona. I can only imagine how he would react if he found out I smashed his girl.
A lot of the times I hung out with them, me and Swervy would talk about Amy. You see he’s not the type to hold back certain information, and as he’s telling me about his life and relationship that’s when it hit me. A nigga like me grew up all my life, with the world constantly kicking my ass and in a whole different realm of this life shit, you got these two rich kids who fucked up their life so much with so little consequences it became a culture shock to me. Me I caught a case and felt like my life was over, these two white people are disfunctional jobless drug addicts and they’re living the life I could only dream of having with years of hard work. I began to question the world, how many are there like this? Was my life a joke? I didn’t know where I was going hanging out with them, but if I couldn’t live the good life, I could at least witness it from the front row. I learned one thing about their relationship, Amy was basically getting old and low on options, and her parents supported her. Why? Because she’s not running around getting dicked down by a bunch of drug dealing black men anymore. Here they see this young white man, who’s also Eastern European who makes their highly mentally damaged daughter feel secure. And Swervy could win an Oscar, I mean what a fucking performance! One second he goes from Angus Cloud on Euphoria, the next a good suburban white kid the second he meets her parents. In fact he had convinced them that he was such a good man, even went to family gatherings and all, that they decided, let’s just buy them a full blown house.
That’s right, a FULL FUCKING HOUSE. I’m talking about a three story townhouse in Germantown, with a fully furnished basement, a patio, a balcony, a grill, 4 bedrooms, a 70 inch television, a paid off brand new fully insured jeep, they’re talking about trips to Italy. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Fool, are we living in a simulation? I couldn’t fucking believe my eyes, Swervy had pulled off the ultimate finesse. He convinced this rich family that he was the one for their daughter. And the most hilarious thing about it is that he was no better than a crackhead heroin junkie you can find panhandling for money on the street. I couldn’t even be envious, no instead I had felt something inside of me, this sort of toxic motivation. I learned that you didn’t have to work hard in this life, you didn’t have to earn your living, no instead one day God can just drop this lonely damaged woman who’s family is fucking loaded right on your fucking lap. He was even talking about marrying her and having her kids. In fact he tried, but see he had a problem. His sailors couldn’t fucking swim. Maybe it was all the crack, cocaine and heroine. He was having trouble producing fertile sperm, and Amy was running out of time! And that was the peak of their relationship. He was this close to closing the deal, but when it was game time he fell short. All it is now is one of those memories in your head that’ll have you like “damn, what if…” almost like when you reminisce on a football game thinking about how things could’ve been different if that one play went right.
Look I’ll be honest, I sugarcoated a lot of things. They may have lived in a world of handouts, but that relationship was more toxic than a nuclear wasteland. There’s a lot of fucked up details that I’m choosing to leave out, the psychical and mental abuse from both sides, the drug use. He was a psychopath and she was controlling and halfway demented. There’s a saying “opposites attract” and these two motherfuckers were far from it. They were two trains headed on a full on collision, so it was only a matter of time before disaster struck, and boy did it strike. Within a year I had witnessed a once fun relationship, become episodes of Shameless. At one point we fell off, I don’t remember exactly why, probably because I was tired of constantly being involved in their nasty games, and once again I distanced myself from Swervy.
The last I heard of Amy, she had kicked Swervy out the house and he caught her giving the sloppy toppy at a local park to 3 guys. Some hoodlum niggas, and a skater dude with a face tatt. The last time I seen Swervy he was arms dealing and one day pulled out an AR-15 on me and threatened to shoot me. I heard he’s now locked up currently awaiting trial because he broke into her home. I have a feeling one day I’ll see him on the news with a crazy headline.
Anyways if you’re a real mothafucka, you made it all the way here. If you read the whole thing I hope you enjoyed the story, if you have any questions ask away. If you didn’t feel like reading all that shit then fuck you bitch!

I’m a 16-year-old dealing with depression, which sometimes makes it hard for me to do things like go to school. One morning, I didn’t want to go, and my parents got so mad that they took away my doorknob. This made me feel unsafe, so I told my therapist. Unfortunately, she sided with my parents and just told me to go to school, which I hated but went along with. This has been going on since 2023, and now it’s 2024. Despite asking for my doorknob back, my parents refused, and I had to learn to live without it.
My new therapist seemed cool at first, but she kept attributing misunderstandings between me and my parents to a cultural barrier, which was frustrating. Recently, I got into a physical fight with my dad over money. He offered me money to do something, then changed his mind but promised to pay me anyway. Later, he refused, and I got mad because he often does this. Later we were talking with my therapist and parents about the reason why I hit him cause he made mad by once again lying. My therapist then said either way I shouldn’t have put my hands on my father. But again even my new therapist sided with my parents saying that I shouldn’t get money whenever and stating that I should help my parents around and work for it but that wasn’t the point, my father offered me money and told me if I do it I would get then told me not to do the task as I would mess up some how and would give it to me and even increased what I would get then asked me to do a task for it. My therapist again blamed the cultural barrier for the “misunderstanding” and some where out of the blue started applauding my parents for doing the bare minimum, which made me angry because I believe just meeting basic needs doesn’t make them good parents.
I told my therapist I didn’t want her to be my therapist anymore after she kept minimizing my feelings and dismissing my experiences. She refused to acknowledge my decision, saying it wasn’t up to me.
A recent incident involved my dad calling me and my younger brother when our phones were on silent and we were watching pirated media on my old phone I realize that they I had two missed calls from mom and several from my dad. Calling my mom she tells me my dad was calling us so I hang up and call my dad. My dad not believing me when I say I genuinely didn’t know he was calling me tells me to pass the phone to my younger brother and threatened to beat my brother when he got home because he thought he was since his phone was on silent in case of emergency my father wouldn’t have been able to reach out to my brother. When my father got home he questioned my brother, my brother feeling pressured to not upset my father he started lying about his whereabouts saying he was in bed sleeping, which to my father he found was a lie he gave he 5 belts to his hand. He also blames my brother for being sick and criticized me for having cuts on my arms, accusing me of self-harm despite my explanations and overall just not listening to me and when the rest of us has something to say about something he strongly suggests or things. My mom is constantly calling me dirty and a pig because I don’t take care of my self, which is overwhelming when I’m already struggling with suicidal thoughts.
My mom threatened to take away my door and send me to a residential facility if I don’t get along with my therapist. This makes me feel trapped and desperate to run away, even though I know it might hurt my mom because she does love me. I feel suffocated and torn between staying in this toxic environment (if it really is toxic or I’m being dramatic - I’m not sure because we have good times together sometimes and my cousins deal with their dad, my uncle- even stricter than my dad) is fine or finding some peace on my own. I’m thinking of running away to homeless shelter or trying to get through living on the streets. Just let me know!
(P.s I did orgrinally write this but I more focused on just releasing my thoughts rather than making it readable so ai did rewrite this but I added some words of my own so sorry if it’s hard to read)

I left this sub but am going to return for all the folks who are actually concerned with allegations made in a Rap Beef. Not Class A misdemeanor's like sex w/dogs. IDGF about that. 1) Davon, I know you. You actin like you don't care suddenly. K then, take your clown ass tweetin and deletin and move on. You know less than I do...apparently? Or you are a liar? You definitely a coward. So yeah, **** off bruh. * * Now to the crowd, the folks who spend a lot of time trying to do a lotta good. AGAIN, the folks who wanted to see dogs banging people....i ain't talkin to ya'll Class A misdemeanor That's a public image issue not a case the feds care about. Now stuff you may not know to be true but...they are, and since Davon is bowing out, here ya go...
Everything facing Drake was not born outta Kendricks battle. The loathing of the human is all real though. The disses and lyrics are mostly real, not all. K assumed or made some shit up. * Drakes real and now troubles began weeks after Takeoffs Murder The scrutiny by law enforcement ramped up in December 2022 * Ramped up from what? in 2019 an investigation was made into Houstons ties to XXX's murder. A person in Houston requested immunity in exchange for information related to XXX's murder. FDLE would not oblige (C.I. was a suspect in an open homicide case in Texas). Someone in FDLE informed Houston LE as to the info and alias of the C.I. * In December of 2019 another person with information without the baggage, went to feds directly in Georgia. The full statement was taken and the info sans the identity of witness was forwarded to FDLE. Now this was running in parallel to a Homicide investigation by different detectives. It is the building of a conspiracy case related to the initiation, conspiracy and funding of XXX's murder. Funded by Houston. Not Toronto...(conducted for the benefit of person or persons affiliated w/suspect) stated to be Aubrey Graham. That investigation was merged into another. THAT investigation began on a federal level within days of Takeoffs murder. ** Now here's where Drake's problems truly began** December 2022, ATL/FDLE and Houston began a joint investigation related to drug traff/ money laundering/murdeextortion and racketeering (R.I.C.O) One might assume that the silence from J Prince/Mobb Ties/Rap a Lot is inentional and per counsels advice...and that would be a good assumption. * A LOT of people based in Atlanta and people close to Takeoffs camp have been exceptionally helpful. When and if all the facts come out, the critical event that took Houston from a corrupt insulated haven for J Prince to a files open multi agency event was the murder of Takeoff. * Now that we shook the I ain't readin all that crew The mole was not OVO. It was in Houston. And one of them is actually next to you That person would have to leave after K outted him, very uncool and dangerous unless the actually was Drakes phone...and all he accesses, messages, virtual storage etc. were being peeled back layer by layer app by app while Drake snitched on himself. The ease that your whole life can get cloned and watched live is crazy. Drake is a pretty street dumb/tech foolish guy according to what was found. Kendrick knows net rumors, 2nd hand stories and perhaps some media (vids/images) were obtained and given to him. Drake was extremely under secured for a guy with his budget. But none of the info obtained via Feds is in Kendricks possession. As of 3/2024 Drake is in some serious trouble. J Prince as an asset to LE was dumped in 2022 but one of his sons is absolutely NOT going to sit in a cell. Kendrick made no mention of Houston ...?? That woulda been too easy for Drake and we never would have had the self written fiasco that is THP6. DJ AK was also subject to a compromise, as one of his work stations was session hijacked. All of his Social media coulda been deleted in minutes but then he would know he was compromised. His mails and other media were given to LE but they cannot use it. That guy is going to have to be a witness or quietly cooperate. His situation came from a family of a victim who paid a P.I./ white hat to gather evidence (a video). In summary * Davon is a pussy * Drakes issues are born outta ATL/FL/HOU * Kendrick used knowledge( of not from) a probe and help from an army of online peeps to curb stomp a person he loathes. * Diddy news is NOT a distraction from Drakes. I do not know but speculate that info from both sides is being used to hurt each other. None of it is needed though. The work you do The focus on Drakes kids is a detriment to the community. I know for a fact that a gender switch was used to protect the real child but the mothers occupation was left as a real hint. Trust, that it is a real thing but leave kids alone. It hurts the credibilty of people who want justice. Don't diminish yourselves. Some posts about LLC's and other shell companies are part of the picture and LE is aware. This Reddit growing did coincide with some cleanup done by Drake which means he had no idea feds were watching but knew that ya'll were. That's kinda wild. Don't click on links and open files in those links even if they look like a simple file form you are familiar with. This is a great place for people to get excited, throw common sense out the window and ....get compromised. Don't be like Drake...or AK. Happy hunting. People are looking at some of the same stuff you are. Nobody is ignoring criminal activity

^Vibe
Wiktor Czarnowski disembarks from the Inter-city train, the flurry of coach class passengers rush ahead towards the exit down the platform from him, while a porter guides him and the remaining first class passengers toward an exit through the station’s first class lounge. A small crowd of the first-class passengers forms around a cart carrying their luggage, Wiktor instead walks past carrying only a briefcase. Outside of the trains cool air conditioned interior, Guiana’s tropical heat beats down on him with it’s typical endless onslaught. Casting a quick look over his shoulder to ensure he hasn't been followed, Wiktor’s eye catches on the 120km Tall Space Pier, as one of it's two platforms makes it’s climb to the heavens. However, Wiktor was not followed, and he makes a hasty pace towards the street exit of the station.
“Excuse me sir! Permit me to call a cab for you?” a station attendant calls out at him.
“A cab? Are you serious? I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those rust buckets! I'd rather walk than be seen in such common transportation. Now, out of my way" Wiktor replies in a huff.
In a wave of embarrassment the attendant quickly responds “I’m so sorry Mr. Czarnowski! I didn't realize it was you! Honest!”
Wiktor crossed the street in a rush, rounding the street corner safely, it had been years if not decades since when cars had become the most common form of transportation in The Commonwealth's cities, thousands of streetcars, subways, heavy rail commuter trains, Light Rail Trains and even cablecars on some of the more challenging hills, crisscrossed the cities of the former Commonwealth every second of every day. With one last glance over his shoulder, Wiktor arrived at his destination, a small streetcar station, one of the very few to still accept fares to be payed in coins. 30 Seconds later, the streetcar rolled into the station, a computer recognized his ticket, and Wiktor was safely onboard and on his way to his office.
The CART (Cayenne Area Rapid Transit) Streetcar rolled smoothly into Wiktor’s final stop, and he quickly disembarked at the rearmost door, and walked into the lobby of his company’s office building.
"Evening, Mr. Czarnowski. Didn't expect to see you at this hour—everything alright?" the Lobby Guard asked cautiously.
"Just needed a break from the old ball and chain, Jean-Luc. Won't be long" Wiktor responded, before making his way up the elevator to the 79th Floor.
Wiktor reached the hallway, at the late hour all the secretary’s had long since gone home. Setting his briefcase on one of their desks, he unlocked it and lifted the case open. Reaching in he pulled out a pair of gloves, and slid them on. Second, he reached in and pulled out a .38 Snubnose Revolver, and loaded six bullets into it. He pocketed the gun, and closed the briefcase, locking it again. He walked quietly down the hallway, passing his office door, and reaching his business partner’s door instead. He starts to knock but pulls his hand away, and instead opens the door.
“Wiktor! What are you doing here!” Anna Kowalska starts to shout but two .38 Bullets send her reeling to the floor. He walks over and puts three more bullets into her computer, before throwing the gun to the ground and running over to the elevator and sending it down to the 2nd Floor. He returns to Anna’s office, shoving the gloves into his pocket, and steady’s himself for a second before reaching for the phone.
"Jean-Luc, quick! Anna's been shot, call for the Police!"

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 am starting work putting together a DnD 5e campaign for level 5 adventurers that would go up to level 11. The main hook will be Rogue (not the PC class) alchemists and performance drug dealers in conflict with the guilds of the 6 Nation's Unified Guilds and local law enforcement.
With alchemy being a major theme, I brainstormed a bunch of things for more advanced versions of adventuring gear for the guilds or criminals to sell, or the party to loot off their corpses. Elemental resistance and vulnerabilities will play a part in the homebrew enemies.
I am looking for feedback on
•how much to charge for the items. •Any recommendations on changes to damage or DCs. •wording changes for clarity.
(Some Ideas are more thought out than others)
Here we go.
Alchemist's Fire (flask)
This sticky, adhesive fluid ignites when exposed to air. As an action, or replacing an attack as part of the attack action you can throw this flask up to 20 feet, shattering it on impact. Make a ranged Attack against a creature or object, treating the alchemist's fire as an improvised weapon. On a hit, the target takes 1d4 fire damage at the start of each of its turns. A creature can end this damage by using its action to make a DC 10 Dexterity check to extinguish the flames.
War Fire (flask)
This alchemically enhanced adhesive fluid ignites when exposed to air. A vial held in hand may be thrown up to 20 ft. replacing an attack made as part of the attack action on your turn shattering on impact. Make a ranged Attack against a creature or object, treating the alchemist's fire as an improvised weapon. On a hit, the target takes 2d4 fire damage at the start of each of its turns. A creature can end this damage by using its action to make a DC 12 Dexterity check to extinguish the flames. Hit or miss, the liquid ignites a square 15 ft on a side of the ground centered on the target. Creatures who enter an ignited area for the first time on a turn or start their turn there take 2d4 fire damage. A square 5 foot section of ignited area can be extinguished as an action.
Dragons breath (Canister) This volatile concoction is illegal to carry into most cities. Typically stored in a magically reinforced container, militaries and criminal master alchemists are the only source, neither of which are likely to give up their secrets. As an action you can speak the command word and throw the canister up to 30 ft where it shatters in a conflagration. Everyone in a 15 ft radius must make a DC 16 Dex save taking 6d4 fire damage on a failure and are ignited. Objects not worn or carried automatically fail this save. Ignited creatures take 6d4 fire damage at the start of each of their turns. A creature may use an action to attempt to put out the fire on themselves or others with a DC 16 Dexterity Check. Creatures who succeed on their saving throw take half damage and are not ignited.
caltrops As an action, you can spread a single bag of caltrops to cover a 5-foot-square area. Any creature that enters the area must succeed on a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw or stop moving and take 1 piercing damage. Until the creature regains at least 1 hit point, its walking speed is reduced by 10 feet. A creature moving through the area at half speed doesn't need to make the saving throw.
Barbed Caltrops
As with caltrops, but the damage is 1d4 piercing and the caltrops stick to those who fail their saving throw dealing 1 point of piercing damage for every 5 feet of movement spent. The caltrops can be removed as an action and they must be removed before recovering HP in order to regain movement speed.
Footbane caltrop bag
This magic bag contains 20 caltrops. When the command word is spoken, the caltops spring out of the bag to a location within 15 ft of the caster and spread themselves out over a 10-ft square area. They continue to move around that area until another command word is spoken to return them to the bag, an hour passes, or five creatures fail their saving throw against them as they become too spread out to be effective. Any caltrops not returned to the bag within 1 hour become non-magical. The constant movement of the caltrops make them impossible to hide, however, it also means that moving at half speed does not let a creature avoid having to make the save. If caltrops are lost or left behind they can be replaced by filling the bag with 20 non-magical caltrops and leaving them in the bag for 8 hours.
Acid Vial
As an action, or replacing an attack as part of the attack action, you can splash the contents of this vial onto a creature within 5 feet of you or throw the vial up to 20 feet, shattering it on impact. In either case, make a ranged Attack against a creature or object, treating the acid as an improvised weapon. On a hit, the target takes 2d6 acid damage.
Elemental vial As with acid Vial, but dealing fire, frost, poison, lightning, or thunder damage.
Clinging acid As an action, or replacing an attack as part of the attack action, you can splash the contents of this vial onto a creature within 5 feet of you or throw the vial up to 20 feet, shattering it on impact. In either case, make a ranged Attack against a creature or object, treating the acid as an improvised weapon. On a hit, the target takes 3d6 acid damage. At the end of each of the creatures' turns it takes a number of D6s of acid damage one less than the previous instance. (If it took 3d6 last time it takes 2d6 this time.) A creature may take the use an object action to reduce the next instance of this damage on themselves or an ally within 5 ft by 1d6. A creature proficient with alchemy tools may use the tools as part of the use an object action to reduce the next instance of damage damage by 2d6 instead.
Dragon's Bile [Flavor text] As with clinging acid but the starting damage is 5d6, creatures have disadvantage on saving throws to maintain concentration and while taking the ongoing damage, and the action now requires a DC 15 dexterity check to succeed. (alchemy tool proficiency applies)
Holy water
As an action, or replacing an attack as part of the attack action, you can splash the contents of this flask onto a creature within 5 feet of you or throw it up to 20 feet, shattering it on impact. In either case, make a ranged attack against a target creature, treating the holy water as an improvised weapon. If the target is a fiend or undead, it takes 2d6 radiant damage.
Sacred oil As an action you can apply this oil to a melee or ranged weapon. For 1 minute, attacks made with the weapon are considered magical and deal an additional 1d6 radiant damage to fiends or undead. This oil smells abhorrent to fiends. Once opened, and for one hour after it is applied to a weapon, fiends within 100 feet of the open vial or weapon will not suffer the surprised condition.
Tears of the Saints/Blood of the Martyrs [Flavor text] As an action, you speak a command phrase (usually a prayer of censure) and throw the reliquary up to 30 feet away from you. The souls of the wronged cry out for vengeance and each undead (for tears) or Fiend (for blood) within 30 feet of the target location, that can see or hear, takes 2d6 radiant damage and must make a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw. If the creature fails its saving throw, and its CR is 1 or less it is destroyed (undead) or banished to its home plane (fiends). A creature above CR 1 that fails it's save is turned for 1 minute or until it takes any damage.
A turned creature must spend its turns trying to move as far away from the target location as it can, and it can't willingly move to a space within 30 feet of it. The creature also can't take reactions. For its action, it can use only the Dash action or try to escape from an effect that prevents it from moving. If there's nowhere to move, the creature can use the Dodge action.
Healing potion You regain 2d4+2 hit points when you drink this potion. Drinking or administering a potion takes an action.
Bloodmush! "For people who don't have enough blood in them, so that they can have more blood in them!" -NoRefunds, wandering kobold trader
"Usually made by those who are not serviced by the guilds and do not have the necessary expertise or available raw materials to make healing potions, satchets of this dark red paste are far more likely to be found in orc, goblinoid, and kobold tribes than civilized areas." Archaic Alchemy of the Six Nations, chapter 7
You regain 1d4+1 hit points when you eat this paste or apply it directly to a wound. This takes an action.
Salve "There has been a great deal of arguments regarding Salve. Some claim it is merely another means of applying a healing potion, but be wary. Salve is not regulated by the guild, so there are no laws protecting its quality. Use at your own risk." -Archaic Alchemy of the Six Nations, chapter 2
As an action, one dose of Salve can be swallowed or applied to the skin. The creature that receives it gains benefits according to the following list.
Fake Salve: pain is relieved, but receive no actual benefits.
Fowl Salve: gain 2d4+2 temporary HP. At the end of 1 minute take 2d4 poison damage and lose any remaining temporary HP.
Mediocre salve: regain 1 HP and 2d4 temp HP. At the end of 1 minute if any temp HP from this salve remains, lose the temp HP and regain the same amount of HP.
Quality salve: regain 2d4+2 HP.
Exquisite salve: regain 2d8 + 2 hit points, cease to be poisoned, and becured of up to one non-magical disease.
Unidentified salve: can be identified by using it, or by a creature proficient in alchemist's supplies making a successful DC 15 Intelligence (Alchemist's tools) check as part of a short rest. When identified, roll a D20 and compare it to the following table. 1 fake Salve 2-3 fowl Salve 4-10 mediocre salve 11-19 quality Salve 20 exquisite Salve
DM note: the range of Salve quality in the setting is worse than indicated by the table. The fact that most sellers will not intentionally sell fake or fowl Salve to the heavily armed, notoriously violent adventurers skews the table in their favor.

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I know that its being safe about viruses these days to cover your face. But Walking down the street I saw her she is walking passing by many people in front of her and did not covering her face and when she saw me suddenly she give a bad look then she covered her face in front of me and with a body language like Im a person that have a deadly decease. I'm wearing facemask, I'm neat and clean but I feel really offended because it feels like the way her attitude is giving you an insult.I just try to convince my self maybe it just for safety but no,she passed by many people before me so it means it showing insult to a random stranger. It happens to me this year twice and last year also 3 times.I notice that most of the cases these happen to me who did this are young women ages around 14-18 years old. So when I'm walking In the street every time there are young women or even older women I always keep a long distance away from them, stay away from them as much as possible or ever passing thru on the next lane to avoid them. But sometimes you can't avoid these situation every day.

Love Problem Solution Astrologer in Delhi Love is a complex and cherished emotion that we all desire to feel and experience. However, relationships can be challenging, and they come with their own set of problems. If you are facing love problems, you are not alone. Many people in Delhi and around the world are trying to navigate their love life and find a way to overcome love problems. In this blog post, we have the pleasure of speaking with Astrologer Abdullah Khadim, a renowned expert on love and relationships.
He will share his insights on love problems faced by people in Delhi and how astrology can help you understand and solve them. From communication issues, trust problems, to compatibility concerns, read on to discover how you can improve your love life and find the happiness you deserve.

Introduction to Love Problems in Delhi

Delhi, a vibrant and bustling city, is not only the capital of India but also a melting pot of cultures, traditions, and beliefs. In the midst of its fast-paced lifestyle and modern outlook, love problems often find their way into the lives of its residents. From matters of the heart to relationship dilemmas, navigating the complexities of love in Delhi can be a daunting task for many.
In this dynamic city where ancient customs coexist with contemporary values, individuals often seek guidance and solace in astrology to unravel the mysteries of love. Astrologer Abdullah Khadim, a renowned figure in the realm of astrology, offers unique insights and remedies to those grappling with love issues in Delhi.
From broken hearts to star-crossed lovers, the journey of love in Delhi is as diverse as the city itself. The pressures of societal norms, family expectations, and personal aspirations can create a web of challenges for individuals seeking love and companionship. Understanding the nuances of love problems in Delhi is essential to addressing them effectively and finding harmony in relationships.
Through the lens of Astrologer Abdullah Khadim’s wisdom and expertise, this blog aims to explore the intricacies of love in the bustling metropolis of Delhi and provide valuable insights into navigating love problems with grace and wisdom. Join us on this enlightening journey as we delve into the realm of love, relationships, and the mystical world of astrology in the vibrant tapestry of Delhi’s love stories. Love Problem Solution Astrologer in Delhi

Meet Astrologer Abdullah Khadim: Background and Expertise

Astrologer Abdullah Khadim is a renowned figure in the field of astrology in Delhi, known for his exceptional insights and expertise in navigating love problems. With a background steeped in traditional astrological practices passed down through generations, Abdullah Khadim brings a unique perspective to the realm of relationship astrology.
Having honed his skills over many years of dedicated study and practice, Abdullah Khadim has earned a reputation for his accurate predictions and insightful guidance in matters of the heart. His deep understanding of astrological charts and planetary influences allows him to provide clients with valuable insights into their love lives and relationships.
Whether you are facing challenges in your current relationship, seeking clarity on romantic prospects, or looking to enhance the harmony and connection with your partner, Astrologer Abdullah Khadim offers personalized consultations and remedies tailored to your specific needs. His compassionate approach and profound wisdom make him a trusted advisor for those navigating love problems in Delhi and beyond. Love Problem Solution Astrologer in Delhi

Common Love Issues Faced by Delhi Residents

Delhi, a city pulsating with life and energy, also holds within its heart a myriad of love issues that its residents often grapple with. From the bustling streets of Chandni Chowk to the serene gardens of Lodhi, love takes on various forms and faces numerous challenges in the capital city.
One common love woe faced by Delhi residents is the clash of traditional values with modern aspirations. The city’s rich cultural heritage often intertwines with contemporary lifestyles, leading to conflicts in relationships rooted in differing belief systems and expectations.
Another prevalent issue is the struggle for privacy and personal space in a city teeming with people and bustling with activity. Finding moments of intimacy and solitude can be a challenge, impacting the dynamics of relationships and creating tensions between partners. Love Problem Solution Astrologer in Delhi
Moreover, the fast-paced life in Delhi, characterized by long working hours and hectic schedules, can strain relationships, leaving little time for meaningful connections and nurturing love bonds. The constant rush and pressure to succeed can take a toll on emotional well-being, leading to misunderstandings and distance between partners.
In the midst of these common love issues faced by Delhi residents, seeking guidance and insights from experts like Astrologer Abdullah Khadim can offer a fresh perspective and valuable solutions to navigate the complexities of love in the vibrant city of Delhi.

Insights and Solutions Provided by Astrologer Abdullah Khadim

Astrologer Abdullah Khadim, a renowned expert in the field of astrology, offers a wealth of insights and solutions to navigate love problems in Delhi. With his profound knowledge and experience, he delves deep into the complexities of relationships, providing valuable guidance to those seeking clarity and resolution.
One of the key insights provided by Astrologer Abdullah Khadim is the importance of understanding the cosmic influences on love and relationships. By analyzing the positions of celestial bodies at the time of birth, he uncovers hidden patterns and energies that impact one’s romantic life. Through this astrological lens, he offers personalized solutions to address specific challenges and enhance harmony in relationships.
Moreover, Astrologer Abdullah Khadim emphasizes the significance of communication and emotional compatibility in fostering lasting love. His guidance encourages individuals to engage in open and honest dialogue with their partners, facilitating mutual understanding and trust. By acknowledging and addressing underlying issues, couples can strengthen their bond and overcome obstacles together. Love Problem Solution Astrologer in Delhi
In addition to insights on individual relationships, Astrologer Abdullah Khadim also provides remedies and rituals to attract love, resolve conflicts, and promote harmony in romantic connections. His holistic approach combines astrological wisdom with practical advice, offering a comprehensive toolkit for navigating love problems with confidence and optimism.
Overall, Astrologer Abdullah Khadim’s insights and solutions serve as a beacon of hope for those facing challenges in their love lives. With his expertise and compassionate guidance, individuals in Delhi can find clarity, healing, and transformation in their relationships, paving the way for a brighter and more fulfilling romantic future.

Case Studies: Real-life Examples of Love Problems Solved

In this section, we delve into real-life case studies showcasing how Astrologer Abdullah Khadim has successfully navigated and resolved love problems for individuals in Delhi. These stories serve as powerful illustrations of the impact and effectiveness of astrology in addressing complex relationship issues.
Case Study 1: Reuniting Lost Love One client approached Astrologer Abdullah Khadim with a heart-wrenching tale of lost love. Despite facing insurmountable obstacles and misunderstandings, the client was determined to reunite with their soulmate. Through a detailed analysis of planetary positions and personalized guidance, Abdullah Khadim provided a roadmap for reconciliation. With patience and faith in the astrological remedies suggested, the couple eventually found their way back to each other, stronger and more committed than ever.
Case Study 2: Overcoming Family Opposition Another individual sought Abdullah Khadim’s assistance when faced with staunch opposition from family members regarding their choice of partner. Cultural differences and familial expectations seemed to create an unbridgeable divide between the couple. Drawing upon his astrological expertise and deep understanding of human relationships, Abdullah Khadim offered tailored solutions to address the underlying issues. Gradually, the family’s resistance softened, paving the way for a harmonious union that honored both love and tradition.
These case studies exemplify the transformative power of astrology in resolving love problems and fostering enduring connections. By sharing these real-life examples, Astrologer Abdullah Khadim not only provides hope and guidance to those grappling with similar challenges but also underscores the profound impact of cosmic insights on matters of the heart.

Testimonials from Satisfied Clients

Testimonials from satisfied clients play a crucial role in establishing credibility and trust in any service, especially when it comes to navigating love problems through astrology. Hearing about the positive experiences of others can provide reassurance and encouragement to those seeking guidance in matters of the heart.
Astrologer Abdullah Khadim’s clients have shared heartfelt testimonials highlighting the accuracy and effectiveness of his readings and remedies. Many have expressed gratitude for his insightful advice, which has helped them navigate through challenging relationship situations with clarity and confidence.
One client, Priya, shared, “I was skeptical at first, but after consulting with Abdullah Khadim, I was amazed at the accuracy of his predictions. His guidance helped me understand my relationship dynamics better and make informed decisions for a brighter future.” Love Problem Solution Astrologer in Delhi
Another client, Rajesh, mentioned, “I was going through a tough time in my relationship, but Abdullah Khadim’s remedies and counseling truly made a positive difference. I am grateful for his support and wisdom.”
Such testimonials serve as a testament to Astrologer Abdullah Khadim’s expertise and the positive impact he has had on his clients’ lives. By sharing these success stories, others seeking guidance for their love problems can gain confidence in his services and approach with hope and optimism.

How Astrology Can Help Navigate Love Challenges

Astrology has been a guiding force for centuries, offering insights and solutions to the complexities of love and relationships. In a bustling city like Delhi, where modernity blends with tradition, seeking guidance from an experienced astrologer like Abdullah Khadim can provide a unique perspective on navigating love challenges.
Astrology delves into the cosmic energies that influence our lives, including matters of the heart. By analyzing planetary positions at the time of birth, astrologers can uncover patterns and tendencies that shape our romantic relationships. Whether you’re facing communication issues, trust issues, or compatibility concerns, astrology offers a lens through which to understand the dynamics at play.
Astrologer Abdullah Khadim’s expertise in love astrology can help individuals gain clarity on their romantic journey. By examining the positions of Venus, the planet of love, and Mars, the planet of passion, astrologers can offer valuable insights into relationship dynamics and potential challenges.
Through personalized consultations, astrologer Abdullah Khadim can provide guidance on enhancing communication, strengthening emotional bonds, and fostering harmony in relationships. By aligning with the cosmic energies that govern love and romance, individuals in Delhi can navigate their love challenges with a deeper understanding and a renewed sense of direction.

Tips for Maintaining Healthy Relationships in Delhi

Maintaining healthy relationships in a bustling city like Delhi can be challenging, but with the right approach, it is definitely achievable. Astrologer Abdullah Khadim shares some valuable tips to help navigate love problems and foster strong and lasting relationships in the city. Love Problem Solution Astrologer in Delhi

1. Communication is Key: Open and honest communication is the foundation of any healthy relationship. In a city as fast-paced as Delhi, it’s crucial to make time for meaningful conversations with your partner to ensure mutual understanding and harmony.
2. Respect Each Other’s Space: Delhi can be overwhelming with its hectic lifestyle and traffic jams. It’s essential to respect each other’s personal space and boundaries. Encourage individual growth and interests while also cherishing shared moments together.
3. Quality Time Matters: Amidst the chaos of city life, make sure to carve out quality time for your partner. Plan date nights, weekend getaways, or simply enjoy a quiet evening together to strengthen your bond and create lasting memories.
4. Embrace Differences: Delhi is a melting pot of cultures, backgrounds, and personalities. Embrace and celebrate the differences between you and your partner. Learn from each other’s perspectives and grow together as a couple.
5. Seek Guidance When Needed: Love problems can arise in any relationship, and it’s okay to seek guidance when things get tough. Astrologer Abdullah Khadim suggests keeping an open mind and being willing to explore different perspectives to overcome challenges and nurture a healthy relationship.

By following these tips and embracing the advice of experts like Astrologer Abdullah Khadim, couples in Delhi can navigate love problems with wisdom and grace, fostering strong and fulfilling relationships in the vibrant city.

Consultation Process with Astrologer Abdullah Khadim

Astrologer Abdullah Khadim’s consultation process is a deeply personalized and insightful experience that aims to provide clarity and guidance on matters of the heart. From the moment you reach out to schedule a consultation, you will be met with a warm and welcoming approach that sets the tone for the entire session.
During the consultation, Abdullah Khadim takes the time to listen attentively to your concerns and questions, creating a safe and open space for you to share your thoughts and feelings. His empathetic nature and deep understanding of astrological principles allow him to analyze your situation with precision and offer valuable insights that can help you navigate through your love problems. Love Problem Solution Astrologer in Delhi
Using a combination of astrological charts, planetary positions, and his intuitive abilities, Abdullah Khadim provides a detailed analysis of your current circumstances and offers practical advice on how to address any challenges you may be facing in your relationships. Whether you are seeking answers about love compatibility, marriage prospects, or overcoming obstacles in your romantic life, his consultation process is designed to empower you with the knowledge and confidence to make informed decisions.
By the end of the session, you will walk away feeling enlightened, inspired, and equipped with the tools needed to approach your love problems with a renewed sense of clarity and purpose. Astrologer Abdullah Khadim’s consultation process is not just about predicting the future but also about empowering you to create the love life you truly desire.

Conclusion: Empowering Delhi Residents to Overcome Love Problems

In conclusion, Astrologer Abdullah Khadim provides valuable insights and guidance for Delhi residents facing love problems. His expertise and deep understanding of astrology offer a unique perspective on navigating relationships and overcoming challenges in matters of the heart. Love Problem Solution Astrologer in Delhi
By seeking the advice of a skilled astrologer like Abdullah Khadim, individuals can empower themselves with the knowledge and tools to address their love problems effectively. Whether it’s issues related to compatibility, communication, trust, or any other aspect of a relationship, astrology can provide valuable insights and solutions.
Delhi residents can benefit from Abdullah Khadim’s wisdom and guidance to gain clarity and direction in their love lives. Through his guidance, individuals can make informed decisions, cultivate stronger relationships, and ultimately find happiness and fulfillment in their romantic pursuits.
Navigating love problems in Delhi may seem daunting, but with the support of an experienced astrologer like Abdullah Khadim, individuals can approach their challenges with confidence and optimism. By embracing the insights and advice offered, Delhi residents can overcome love problems and create a more harmonious and fulfilling love life.
In the bustling city of Delhi, matters of the heart can often be complex and challenging. Astrologer Abdullah Khadim shares valuable insights on navigating love problems, offering guidance rooted in ancient wisdom and celestial observations. Through his expertise, readers gain a deeper understanding of how astrology can illuminate paths to resolution and harmony in relationships. As you navigate the intricate terrain of love in Delhi, may Abdullah Khadim’s wisdom serve as a guiding light, illuminating the way towards love’s true essence and fulfillment.

FAQ

What are common love problems people face in Delhi? Common love problems in Delhi include misunderstandings, lack of communication, interference from family or society, trust issues, long-distance relationships, and compatibility issues.
How can I find a reliable love problem solution in Delhi? Look for experienced and reputed astrologers, relationship counselors, or therapists who specialize in resolving love-related issues. You can ask for recommendations from friends or family members who have used such services before.
What methods are used for love problem solutions in Delhi? Love problem solutions in Delhi may involve astrology, tarot card readings, counseling sessions, meditation, mantra chanting, and various rituals aimed at strengthening relationships and resolving conflicts.
Is it possible to solve love problems through astrology? Astrology is believed to provide insights into relationship dynamics and compatibility. Astrologers analyze birth charts to identify potential challenges and offer remedies such as gemstone recommendations, poojas (rituals), and mantras to improve the relationship.
How long does it take to solve love problems through counseling? The duration of counseling sessions depends on the complexity of the issues and the willingness of both partners to work on the relationship. Some problems may be resolved in a few sessions, while others may require ongoing therapy.
Can love problems be solved without the consent of both partners? While it’s ideal for both partners to participate in the problem-solving process, it’s possible to work on individual issues through self-reflection, therapy, and personal growth. However, the effectiveness of the solution may vary depending on the nature of the problem and the level of cooperation from both parties.
Are love problem solutions in Delhi guaranteed? No, love problem solutions cannot be guaranteed as they depend on various factors such as the willingness of both partners to work on the relationship, the severity of the issues, and external influences. However, seeking help from professionals can increase the chances of resolving conflicts and improving the relationship.
How much does it cost to avail love problem solutions in Delhi? The cost of love problem solutions varies depending on the service provider, the duration of the sessions, and the complexity of the issues. It’s advisable to inquire about the fees upfront and discuss any payment plans or packages available.
Are there any online options available for love problem solutions in Delhi? Yes, many astrologers, counselors, and therapists in Delhi offer online consultations for love problem solutions. This allows individuals to seek help from the comfort of their homes and access services from professionals located in different areas.
What should I consider before choosing a love problem solution provider in Delhi? Before choosing a love problem solution provider, consider factors such as their experience, reputation, approach to problem-solving, confidentiality policies, and cost. It’s alsov read reviews and testimonials from previous clients to gauge the effectiveness of their services.
https://abdullahkhadim.com/love-problem-solution-astrologer-in-delhi/
https://abdullahkhadim.com/best-love-problem-solution-in-usa/

These are prompts that ask you to switch up genres of the story you are working on to see if there are pieces that fit better into a different style.

1. Prompt: What if your fantasy epic suddenly transformed into a noir detective story, with the protagonist navigating the gritty streets of a magical city to solve a high-profile magical crime?
   
2. Prompt: Imagine your psychological thriller transitioning into a heartwarming coming-of-age story, with the protagonist discovering unexpected friendships and personal growth in the midst of their psychological challenges.
   
3. Prompt: What if your space opera took an unexpected turn into a romantic comedy, where the protagonist, an intergalactic explorer, finds love amidst the stars while evading alien threats?
   
4. Prompt: Picture your cyberpunk tale becoming a political intrigue drama, with the protagonist navigating corporate boardrooms and government conspiracies to uncover a web of corruption.
   
5. Prompt: Imagine your dystopian future evolving into a time-travel adventure, where the protagonist discovers a device that allows them to reshape the course of history and prevent the dystopia from ever occurring.
   
6. Prompt: What if your historical epic took on elements of a swashbuckling pirate adventure, with the protagonist becoming a charismatic captain leading a rebellion on the high seas?
   
7. Prompt: Picture your supernatural mystery transforming into a romantic paranormal drama, with the protagonist balancing their quest for the unknown with the complexities of a forbidden love affair.
   
8. Prompt: Imagine your cosmic library narrative becoming a cosmic horror story, with the protagonist discovering forbidden knowledge that unleashes eldritch forces threatening the fabric of reality.
   
9. Prompt: What if your utopian society narrative turned into a post-apocalyptic survival story, with the protagonist navigating a world in ruins and leading a group of survivors to rebuild civilization?
   
10. Prompt: Picture your magical realism tale becoming a surreal comedy, with the protagonist encountering absurd situations and quirky characters in a world where the laws of nature are delightfully twisted.
    
11. Prompt: Imagine your psychological drama taking a turn into science fiction, with the protagonist grappling with existential questions as they navigate a futuristic society governed by AI overlords.
    
12. Prompt: What if your post-apocalyptic adventure shifted into a road trip comedy, with the protagonist and their diverse group of companions navigating the wasteland in a quirky, retro-fitted vehicle?
    
13. Prompt: Picture your steampunk narrative becoming a courtroom drama, with the protagonist, a brilliant inventor, defending their groundbreaking creations against accusations of endangering society.
    
14. Prompt: Imagine your political intrigue drama transforming into a high-stakes heist story, with the protagonist assembling a team of specialists to infiltrate a heavily guarded government facility and expose corruption.
    
15. Prompt: What if your supernatural drama took on the elements of a family sitcom, with the protagonist, a paranormal investigator, trying to balance their otherworldly encounters with the chaos of family life?
    
16. Prompt: Picture your coming-of-age story turning into a space exploration adventure, with the protagonist leaving their small town behind to embark on a journey among the stars.
    
17. Prompt: Imagine your romance novel becoming a gripping courtroom thriller, with the protagonist fighting against societal norms and legal challenges to be with the one they love.
    
18. Prompt: What if your mystery novel transformed into a fantasy quest, with the detective protagonist discovering a hidden realm where magical creatures hold the key to solving the case?
    
19. Prompt: Picture your dystopian tale becoming a psychological horror story, with the protagonist uncovering the dark secrets of the oppressive regime and facing nightmarish visions.
    
20. Prompt: Imagine your cosmic exploration story taking a turn into a space opera musical, with the protagonist expressing their journey through intergalactic ballads and dance numbers.
    
21. Prompt: What if your superhero narrative became a time-travel thriller, with the protagonist using their powers to navigate temporal paradoxes and prevent catastrophic events?
    
22. Prompt: Picture your alternate reality tale turning into a virtual reality adventure, with the protagonist discovering a simulated world that challenges their perceptions of what is real.
    
23. Prompt: Imagine your psychological thriller becoming a psychological comedy, with the protagonist navigating absurd situations and dark humor as they confront their inner demons.
    
24. Prompt: What if your cyberpunk story shifted into a techno-noir mystery, with the protagonist, a hard-boiled detective, uncovering a conspiracy in the neon-lit streets of a futuristic city?
    
25. Prompt: Picture your historical epic transforming into a time-travel romance, with the protagonist finding love across different eras while trying to preserve the course of history.
    
26. Prompt: Imagine your magical realism tale becoming a slice-of-life drama, with the protagonist navigating the ordinary challenges of daily life amidst the backdrop of subtle magical occurrences.
    
27. Prompt: What if your space opera narrative took on the elements of a space western, with the protagonist, a lone gunslinger, navigating the lawless frontiers of the galaxy?
    
28. Prompt: Picture your dystopian future evolving into a psychological thriller, with the protagonist unraveling a conspiracy that challenges their sanity and the very nature of reality.
    
29. Prompt: Imagine your fantasy epic becoming a mythological saga, with the protagonist assuming the role of a chosen hero destined to battle ancient gods and mythical creatures.
    
30. Prompt: What if your utopian society story shifted into a political satire, with the protagonist navigating the absurdities of a seemingly perfect world that hides dark political machinations?
    
31. Prompt: Picture your supernatural mystery taking on the elements of a supernatural comedy, with the protagonist encountering mischievous spirits and navigating the challenges of the afterlife with humor.
    
32. Prompt: Imagine your coming-of-age story becoming a superhero adventure, with the protagonist discovering extraordinary abilities and grappling with the responsibilities that come with them.
    
33. Prompt: What if your post-apocalyptic adventure took a turn into a philosophical exploration, with the protagonist contemplating the nature of humanity and morality in a world in ruins?
    
34. Prompt: Picture your steampunk narrative transforming into a romantic melodrama, with the protagonist navigating intricate love triangles and societal expectations in a clockwork society.
    
35. Prompt: Imagine your political intrigue drama becoming a sci-fi space exploration, with the protagonist navigating interstellar politics and encountering extraterrestrial civilizations.
    
36. Prompt: What if your cosmic library narrative shifted into a supernatural thriller, with the protagonist uncovering a haunted section of the library and facing malevolent spirits from forgotten realms?
    
37. Prompt: Picture your utopian society story becoming a psychological horror, with the protagonist slowly realizing the sinister underbelly of their seemingly perfect world.
    
38. Prompt: Imagine your magical realism tale taking on the elements of a fairy tale, with the protagonist embarking on a quest to break a magical curse and restore balance to their enchanted world.
    
39. Prompt: What if your space opera narrative evolved into a political drama, with the protagonist navigating the intricacies of galactic diplomacy and power struggles?
    
40. Prompt: Picture your dystopian future becoming a survival horror story, with the protagonist struggling to survive in a world overrun by monstrous creatures and navigating the horrors of a post-apocalyptic landscape.
    
41. Prompt: Imagine your fantasy epic transforming into a courtroom drama, with the protagonist navigating a magical legal system and defending the rights of magical beings.
    
42. Prompt: What if your psychological thriller took on the elements of a dark comedy, with the protagonist facing bizarre situations and twisted humor as they unravel the mysteries of their own mind?
    

Salut à tous & welcome to ParisTravelGuide
This monthly thread aims at giving basic recommendations to navigate the subreddit and Paris, and offering a general chatter space. Depending on the (inter)national news, we may inform you on impacting events here (strikes,threats, global cultural or sport events..)

USING THE SUBREDDIT

• Browse the menus (on desktop or mobile app) to access:
  • Wiki
  • Rules (NB: rule-breaking contents can lead to a content lock, removal, or if needed a user ban)
  • Monthly threads Archive
• Access some featured contents directly
  • Parisians, why do you think first-time visitors will be disappointed in the city?", courtesy of u/huukat ;)
  • Ideas for a less-touristy Paris
  • Oddities and dive bars
  • Activities with kids/young teens
  • Activities with a baby/small kid
  • What to do when it rains in Paris? (quality advice not guaranteed)
  • Tips for first-timers
  • Most discussed recent trip reports
  • Traditional dishes from Paris and French regions
  • Where to eat hearty traditional cuisine
• Search the sub archive to check if your question has already been answered:
  • by using the Search Reddit field on top of the page (make sure to type ParisTravelGuide before your search term in the search field): search with "Louvre". NB: while really not user-friendly, you can even make more sophisticated searches How to search on Reddit)
  • by clicking on the flairs of the existing posts (category labels): filter with the "🏛 Louvre" flair

HANDLING THE BASICS OF PARIS

• General understanding
  • Wikivoyage for Paris (en): an external wiki covering various aspects of the city from a touristic point of view
  • Paris Voice (en) life in Paris seen by the English speaking community
  • Anglo Info Paris (en), same with a lot of practical info, to settle or as a tourist, also general info for France
• Accommodations
  • Increase of the tourist tax for 2024: read carefully to avoid any bad surprises, especially for non-classified hotels that can apparently charge as if they were palaces due to a loop-hole.
• Public transport
  • Read the dedicated section in our wiki Transports (en) / Transports (fr)
• Taxis
  • public: G7 (en) is the only company recognized as public taxis in Paris. It applies fixed fares for travels between the two main airports (CDG and ORLY) and the two sides of the city (left bank / right bank of the Seine river), booking or extra services fees not included.
  • private: Uber are widely used, others are available like Bolt, Heetch, Marcel or Freenow
• Day trip
  • the Trainline (en) is a very straight forward and efficient data aggregator from various European train and bus companies. (the national one sncf-connect being a bit of a nightmare to use)
• Airports
  • Roissy-Charles de Gaulle aka CDG (en)
  • Orly aka ORY (en)
  • Beauvais aka BVA (en) and dedicated Bus shuttle for Beauvais airport <> Paris (Porte Maillot)
• Tourism Office:
  • Paris je t'aime (en): only for inner Paris
  • Visit Paris region (en): for the whole region Ile de France.
• Cultural/Event agenda:
  • Sortir à Paris (en): culture and nightlife agenda
  • Officiel des Spectacles (fr): movies/plays/concerts agenda
  • Paris LGBT (en): places, events and resources about the LGBT community
  • Paris Jazz Club (en): jazz concerts agenda
  • Fanzo (fr): search engine with a map for sports broadcasts in bars
• Health:
  • Public hospitals map
  • English speaking professionals list(en)
  • Pharmacies, day and night openings (en)
  • Emergency phone numbers(en)
• thread for Protest and Strikes concerns
• Eating
  • casual: David Lebovitz(en), a blog of a former US chef living in Paris for casual / traditional food
  • trendy: Le fooding(en), trendy reference magazine for foodies
  • starred: Michelin guide, for 1/2/3 stars restaurants or other gastronomic venues
• Civil unrest
  • Sporadic and sudden protests are very rare. The existence of a protest is very regulated, the day and the route have to be agreed with the authorities several days prior to the date.
• Authorized protest or march
  • a march usually lasts from 2pm to 6pm and most demonstrators stay until 8pm at the final destination
  • Demonstrators (and/or police) outbursts are more likely to happen at the end from 8pm
  • Most of the stores along the route close for the whole day, and side accesses to these boulevards are barred by the police to motorized vehicles.
  • 95% of the city goes on as usual in terms of street life.
  • Metro lines M1 and M14 are automated and thus operate whether there is a strike or not.
  • Taxis: all the companies work during a strike
    • G7: main company of the "Taxis parisiens", regulated price
    • UbeHeetch/Bolt/FreeNow: categorized as VTC ("Véhicules de Tourisme avec chauffeur"), unregulated price
• Safety
  • Police department recommendations
  • Safety tips video by les Frenchies (experienced US travelers)
  • Density & safety level: Paris administrative area ("Paris intramuros") is fairly small for a global capital but the population density is very high. Besides that, Paris is currently the most visited city in the world. This situation inevitably leads to various problems or dramas from time to time and one should beware of this cognitive bias. No public statistics accessible, but Paris' safety level is said to be fairly comparable to other big Western metropolis like London, Rome, Barcelona, Brussels or NYC but lower than Amsterdam, Berlin or generally Scandinavian / Central / Eastern European cities.
  • Violent crime: it is very unlikely in inner Paris, European gun laws being much more restrictive than US laws.
  • Pickpockets & scams: while generally safe, you might be exposed to pickpockets, scams or harassment in crowded areas, be it touristic, commercial or nightlife hubs. Keep your belongings in sight and try not to display too much costly items. Avoid unsolicited street vendors (not to be confused with, say, street artists near Montmartre or "bouquinistes" of the quays of Seine) and the occasional street games like Bonneteau ("shell game") that are known scams.
  • Cat-calling: this is a common issue towards women in Mediterranean countries. In Paris, it is more prevalent in the more modest neighborhoods in the North / North-East- of the city.
  • Emergency: If you are in an emergency situation, call 17 (police) / 18 (firefighters but who also handles all life and death emergencies) / 112 (universal European emergency number). All of them are interconnected and will be able to redirect you to the correct one if you happen to pick the wrong one.
  • Neighborhoods:
    • Tourism is concentrated in the rich areas from the center (roughly arrondissements 1st to 8th + Montmartre 18th).
    • As in most cities, main train stations tend to attract more people from the outside, hence a bit riskier, especially at night and crowded metro lines serving the main landmarks
    • The northern outskirts of the city (around Porte de la Chapelle / Porte d'Aubervilliers / Porte de la Villette) are home of temporary refugee camps, a high poverty and rarely drug use in the open. It could feel quite unsafe at night, better be accompanied by locals if you want to venture around at night there or simply pass through.
    • The surroundings of the very central area of Les Halles (around the eponymous commercial mall) can be a bit messy at night as a lot of young people gather here for eating / drinking or hanging out in the streets. It is still home of great streets for night life like rue Saint Denis but beware of the crowds.
    • Also metro stations on line 2 Barbes, La Chapelle and Stalingrad and their surroundings are among the most modest and messy, with countraband cigarettes sellers and potential pickpockets.
    • Southern and Western parts are more posh and family oriented but could be "less lively" than the rest of the city.

ONGOING EVENTS

• Olympic Games preparation Impacts thread
  
• Israel/Palestine conflict Impacts thread
  
• Plan Vigipirate
  
  • Evacuation of public places in case of a left-alone bag for controlled destruction as what happened in the Louvre or Versailles recently. It also happens from time to time in subways.
  • Military patrolling in the city, mostly around landmarks, schools and religious buildings.
  • It doesn't mean there is a particular problem, but they take maximum precaution in these tense moments.

GENERAL CHATTER

The comment sections below is here for members to freely ask questions that are recurrent or not worth a dedicated post (like transport, safety or protests topics), write appreciations, greetings, requesting meetups...
Same rule applies as in the rest of the sub, post topics regarding Paris and its surroundings only please.
Bref, chit-chat mode is on in the comments!
This thread is automatically archived and regenerated every first day of the month at 8am (Paris Time) - Archives

This ‘allegedly’ True story was written & emailed to me by an anonymous source. It is also available on my YouTube and TikTok channels to watch in video format. You may not use this story. Please do not ask me. Thank you. Enjoy. 💀

 The Bamboo Vigilante 

One Saturday, quite a few weekends ago, my friend and I decided to go dumpster diving. We’ve never done this before and thought it would be fun.
We got the idea from a TikTok video and watched this guy rummaging through a dumpster from a store in his town and saw all the brand new stuff that stores actually throw away.
We couldn’t believe it! We decided to try it out for ourselves and see if it bore any fruit.
As this was our first time doing this we wanted to take precautionary measures so, we decided to do it at night away from prying eyes.
We drove to a shopping center located in the city that we live in, but we parked our vehicle on a side street near it and then walked to where the dumpsters were located.
Both of us were nervous so, in case there were security cameras on the building we both wore disposable face masks to conceal our identities.
There’s a Dicks Sporting Goods inside of this shopping plaza so that’s where we decided to go first. The dumpster was located behind a fence that was locked up but my friend brought a pair of bolt cutters to cut the thick lock and double wrapped chain link in case we ran into something like this.
In the state that we live in, dumpster diving isn’t illegal, but of course, breaking and entering is. Regardless, if there’s a lock and chain that means something must be in those dumpsters.
And low and behold we hit pay dirt. Cha-Ching!
This dumpster was filled with 17 golf clubs, 20 boxes of sneakers, sweatpants, hoodies, 5 brand new metal detectors and a bow fishing bow kit.
And all of this stuff was brand spanking new!
We wanted to take everything and as fast as we could but we didn’t want to bring our vehicle over, again, in case there were cameras. But we were lucky and this had to be our night. Because there was a shopping cart no more than a few feet away from us but it was missing a front wheel.
No worries. We got this…
We managed to fit almost everything in that shopping cart except for a few boxes of sneakers and some of the clothing. With everything that we were able to get from that dumpster, leaving a few things behind wasn’t really a big deal.
My friend held the shopping cart from the handles and I held it upright by the front corner and wheeled it to our vehicle.
We got to our vehicle and started unloading the shopping cart and putting everything in the trunk and the backseat as fast as we could.
Everything was going smoothly…
We picked up the shopping cart and left it at the corner of the street. But as soon as we arrived back to our vehicle and finished tightening things up, the most unexpected thing happened to both of us…
We were approached by an old woman with a machete in her hand.
Yes, you read that correctly.
An elderly woman wearing Christmas Red pajamas with matching fluffy red slippers, wielding a bamboo machete. And this elderly woman appeared to be at least 70 years old.
We never saw where she came from. We never saw her coming! This is not something that you would expect after performing a breaking and entering. Maybe the cops? But an old lady and a bamboo machete?
This was an encounter I’d never thought would ever happen in my lifetime on planet earth.
First, she asked us who we were, and why we were wearing masks while waving that machete in her hand. My friend, the ever loving jokester that he is, answered her question… But with an answer that, I also did not see coming.
He told her the reason for wearing the masks is because we were both infected with the Ebola virus.
Yeah, he said that…
And her immediate response was:
“The virus that you catch from eating uncooked food?”
My friend replied with a very concerned:
“Yes! That’s exactly what it is and it’s very contagious, too. If we cough or even breathe near you, you too, can catch this virus. We were lucky enough to get the vaccine right away but it takes about a month for the virus to disappear. So, that’s why we’re wearing these masks.”
Why my friend would say such a thing to a psycho machete wielding old lady? I haven’t the slightest…
But he did. And that’s my friend. Courageously idiotic.
The old woman asked my friend if we thought she was stupid. And demanded that we remove our masks or she’d cut our nuts off slowly with the machete.
Yes. You read that correctly as well.
I complied immediately. My friend, on the other hand, wasn’t so inclined.
I started taking off my mask but my friend urged me not to, telling me:
“No! No! Don’t do that! We don’t want to infect this innocent woman with the Ebola virus. What’s wrong with you?!”
He turned to the woman and politely asked:
“How old are you, ma’am, 65? 70? Do you understand how quickly this illness can spread? For your safety, we refuse to remove our masks.”
As he crossed his arms standing firm with his concern for this innocent old woman. But it didn’t seem like she was buying into it.
She pointed the machete in the air and defensively said:
“How dare you! Who told you my age? Was it that bitch Irene from Target? I’ve never liked her. She gave me such a hard time returning my perfume. I only used it a few times. The bottle was still full.”
And now I could see where he was going with this unusual conversation. He was thinking, at the time of this event, that this woman was unhinged and unbalanced in every way possible. And at any moment she could lunge at any one of us. She was standing about 2 feet from us. She was that close! And it appeared she knew how to use that machete by the way she was waving it around and talking to us.
My friend, sympathetic to her feelings said:
“Yes, yes I know Irene. She’s not very nice, is she?
The machete lady angrily said:
“No, she is not. She’s a bitch.”
Frowning down at the fact that Irene, the Target Lady, made it difficult for her to return her item…
I’m watching my friend now, from the corner of my eye as he’s looking around the neighborhood while thinking of other things to say to her.
The crazy lady pointed the machete at him, mad as a hatter and asked:
“What are you doing? What the fuck are you looking for?!”
My friend, in a duplicitous manner said:
“Nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all. But you may want to be careful around here though. I heard there’s shapeshifters that live around these neighborhoods. People who turn into coyotes and wolves, and they won’t think twice about eating you.”
This crazy old lady… Steps forward a few inches, pointed the tip of the machete at my nuts and gladfully welcomed it saying:
Is that so? Let them come and get me then. And I’ll serve them your girlfriend's little testicles in a salad bowl.”
There was no more joking at this point. This old bag’s eyes were twitching and she was serious. And I didn’t want my nut bag served as a side dish. That blade was very sharp. I felt the tip of it tag my nut sac!
So, I asked the crazy old lady what it was that she wanted. And that we weren't there to cause trouble. All we wanted to do was to go home. I’m not going to lie, I got scared! I have a bamboo machete pointed at my family jewels. What the hell would you do in a situation like this?
She pulled the machete away and now pointed it at my friend. And In a turn of events, looking at me she said:
“I want your little friend here to apologize for destroying my garden. Do you have any idea, young man, how long Calatheas take to blossom? Do you even have the slightest clue?”
We slowly looked at one another and now knew that this old woman was completely out to lunch. We could have easily avoided this entire situation by attempting to disarm her. But this is a Machete we’re talking about. A bamboo machete. A sharp piece of weaponry. And any one of us could have gotten cut, or even worse, killed…
My friend, obligingly put his hands together, bowed his head, and apologized for destroying her garden of Calatheas. She accepted his apology. But something was still concerning this delirious old woman.
She asked us if we knew where she lived.
Of course we didn’t have a clue, but it didn’t stop my friend from telling her that she lived 2 houses down the street.
And just like that…
She thanked us, and also apologized for threatening to kill us. She sighed, bid us a farewell, and slowly walked away wielding that bamboo machete in hand.
We drove away with our nuts intact and a truck full of goodies that profited us two fistfuls of cash.
Not a bad night for our very first dumpster dive.
DISCLAIMER: This story is intended for reading purposes only. Again, please do not ask to use it. I’ve created a video on YouTube if you’d like to watch this story in video format.
Thank you.

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The following two brain scans were provided by the Neuro-Warfare branch of the Halcyon Security Division (HSD) for the purpose of analyzing the thoughts, behaviors, and information of notorious gangsters Vincent 'Troy' Cohen and Bruno (Deadname: Koraak Tel-Char). At the point of the recording of this archival shared, Bruno has since received his rebirth therapy, and Vincent is currently serving a long-term rehabilitative and reeducative sentence in the Erebus Supermax Prison on Io.
Warning: the contents of this archival shared may be especially disturbing to some audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.
Warning: the contents of this archival shard are for the sole purpose of analyzing the thought patterns and memories of certain degenerate criminals in an effort to ascertain vital information that can be used to eliminate their organizations. Only staff with clearance level Omega may view this archival shared, and the viewership of this archival shared by anyone of inadequate clearance level will lead to twenty years in prison and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Vincent 'Troy' Cohen, November 4th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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"Do you have visuals of the target, Troy?"
I knelt down in the alleyway, the bodies of me and my partners shrouded in long, waterproof, ashen-gray overcoats the shade of dirty street scum that we wore to ward off the constant heavy rainfall the color of osmium. Our faces were covered in a mix of scrapped respirators, visors, or full metal face masks carved with intricate designs to hide our identities. On our waists were our badges of honor: leather belts studded with interlocked rivets made from blackened titanium, each buckle forged of silver and shaped into the head of our gang's symbol, the black mamba. We hid amongst the shadows of the dark midday of Halcyon City, the heavy, oppressive rains blanketing the roads paved obsidian-black with asphalt and weathered concrete walkways. The street lamps were always on, like beacons of false hope in a storm of melancholy.
The city was dark and dreary as always, the planet of Proxima Centauri B, renamed Dawn's Lamentation over a century ago, orbited the red dwarf star of Proxima Centauri, and the atmosphere was thick with natural smog and ever-storming rain clouds. That didn't dissuade people from living here: there was plenty of money to be had for shrewd industrialists and hardworking pioneers, even in the urban sprawl. But that life also came with risks, especially for those on the bottom of the totem pole.
I was a ganger, and we were criminals; full stop. I won't assault you with some spiel about how we're the good guys fighting oppression because, at the end of the day, we could be just as bad, if not worse, than Halcyon's Security Division, or the HSD for short. We were traffickers, killers, extortionists, and money launderers. We dealt with everything from stolen tech and military-grade hardware to hard drugs and sentients.
Yes, sentients. We trafficked sentients, but not in the way you might think. They weren't prisoners, in fact, we were their saviors if they had the cash. We had developed a reputation for fighting the power, but it was still business: sure, freeing captives from the clutches of the Protectorate. The disruption of its many oppressive organizations held a certain satisfaction in my heart for sure, but we didn't help those who couldn't pay unless someone else paid on their behalf. It was about making sure me and my gang, my family, could live a decent life for another day.
It helped that most of us joined after leaving the state yard for partaking in acts of 'degeneracy' and 'anti-xenopet illegalities' as if those terms meant anything anymore other than that we were a threat to the local status quo. It was hard to pick up a job as a former inmate when even in something as harsh and backbreaking as a job in the iridium mines near the poles when the employment office had you blacklisted as a degenerate, which lead to the formation of many of the gangs: we needed to make a living somehow, and when all social programs were cut off from you unless you submitted for 're-education' and the only way to put food on the table was subverting, breaking, or even downright fighting the law, you did what you had to do or you died on the streets a scorned beggar.
It wasn't like the HSD made it easy for us on even a good day: the local HSD units were armed to the teeth with advanced, military-grade hardware that you'd often see on the front lines of the Second Authority War: armored assault transports, a myriad of advanced war droids, all sorts of chemical countermeasures that made tear gas seem like putting the garden hose on mist mode, and of course advanced firearms. Add that to the fact that they were authorized to use deadly force when they deemed it necessary and you had a ruthless, heartless, and nearly unstoppable enemy. But we could make that work: we weren't trying to stop them, just to withstand them.
"Yeah, I got eyes on the prize, Koraak; seven armored transports, two for droids, five for prisoners."
Today wasn't a day for a normal job: we were getting bolder, cockier, more ambitious. Our numbers had swelled for the last few years after the raid at Barnard's Star and the fall of the Blood Dragon Mafia. Their leader, Saito Yasuhide, had committed seppuku as their manor burned, and his twin sons had gone down fighting rather than allowing themselves to be captured simply to face a firing squad. In the aftermath, many of the family's associates had fled to the surrounding systems, and with the sheer size and scope of the criminal underworld found here, it was no wonder that many people who had developed skills of the less legal variety had decided to form ranks with the gangs, and with them they brought guns, tech, knowledge, contacts, and even something that we thought wasn't possible beforehand: a semblance of peace between the gangs, or at least the closest thing to peace that gangs could cultivate effectively. With the fall of the Blood Dragons, we saw the writing on the wall, and the writing couldn't have been clearer: work together or die together.
"Sounds like a massacre, Troy: are you sure we can handle seven?"
"We ain't got no choice, Cinder: this job's double the usual rate, and that's not including the weapons and gear we could scrounge if this goes well," I hissed, my eyes scanning for any resistance. There were at least four guards for each van, not to mention at least eight droids in total, meaning that we were already outnumbered, but we had the element of surprise: we could make it work. "So put your balls in your purse and get ready to spill some blood."
Koraak snorted at our antics, which sounded like someone pulling the ripcord on a lawnmower. He was a veteran Russu Corsair, and while his past of slaving, raiding, and killing was unsavory, so were the lives we'd lived, so who were we to judge? All we cared about was that he was a brutal and capable fighter and a loyal brother in arms. It turned out that being a ganger wasn't much different from being a Corsair: you lived and died by a code of honor, you fought to the death for your brothers, and you lived to die for the sake of your gang and your family, simple as that. In a strange, ironic way, it was an incredibly honest way of life: we were under no illusions as to what we were, what we did, and why we did it, and we'd long since accepted it. The Russu related to us in that aspect, in many ways I could respect, which is why I hated what the Protectorate was doing, and why I couldn't grasp how most of humanity could just collectively lose their marbles so long ago. What had happened for us to deem all other life below us in such a demeaning and infantilizing way?
The Russu were a race of tall, muscle-bound Saurians with avian features, and Koraak was no exception: reaching almost seven feet in height and weighing over four hundred and fifty pounds, he could be an absolute menace if he so desired. His skin was covered in stubby, knobby scales and dense plumage, with elegant feathers adorning the ridges along his back as well as his forearms, elbows, knees, and the crests on his head. He almost looked like how paleontologists described velociraptors, with razor-sharp talons, feathers shaded in vibrant greens, reds, and purples, and a maw full of sharp teeth, but at the tip of his snout was a sharp, beak-like growth meant for ripping flesh off the bone.
The Russu were strange as hell, but they also looked almost cute in the same way a fully grown alligator was cute: they were obviously dangerous, but humans would always have this innate desire to anthropomorphize them and to pet them for some inexplicable reason, although common sense usually prevented that, at least amongst the very few of us left that were sane.
"Shut up, Troy! All I'm saying is that that'll be rough, and you know it," hissed Cinder. Cinder was a tall black man whose coffee-colored skin was covered in tattoos. He wore an ebony mechanic's jumpsuit with metal inserts underneath his grimy overcoat covering his body and a faded black respirator on his face. His eyes were a startling blue that seemed sorely out of place, and his hair was braided into thick cornrows along his scalp. He wore a pair of heavy black combat boots and palmed his compact shotgun in his hands, the square barrel less than seven inches. Like a lot of the weapons the Black Mambas carried on their persons and dealt in, they fired caseless ammunition; in Cinder's case it was 16x40mm caseless shotshells filled with depleted uranium micro-flechetes no thicker than a toothpick. Cinder nervously fiddled with the detachable tube magazine underneath the barrel, his hands shaking. Despite the shit I have him, I didn't blame him for being anxious: I was anxious too, even if I refused to show it. The biting cold of unease and pessimism was in my stomach, and I ran all the way that this job could go wrong in my head over and over.
"Just hold yourself together, this ain't anything we haven't done before, there's just more of it," I reassured Cinder, "besides, we're not alone; we have reinforcements across the street. We'll make it out of this alive."
Cinder nodded almost absentmindedly, his eyes downcast and his breathing shallow. I turned from him and back to Koraak, who was making sure he had everything on his person; he had a synthetic leather bandoleer across his chest that contained the heavy eight guage depleted uranium slugs he kept loading and unloading into his much larger, longer, and more traditional shotgun he nicknamed ‘carnage’ and several leather straps that held his Tu'shan daggers: traditional Russu pyramidal blades forged from a silvery alloy with all three edges serrated and the tip barbed to leave behind horrible, gaping wounds that gushed blood. They were wickedly sharp and absolutely straight like a stiletto, and the hilts and pommels were beautifully decorated. He wore no clothes underneath his overcoat to cover the countless scars and blemishes he's earned in combat across his chest and abdomen, and instead of a normal respirator or visor, he simply wore a hood over his head and some traditional Russu facial armor to protect his mouth, eyes, and cheeks.
"You ready to fight, Koraak? The caravan will pick up and leave soon."
Koraak was silent for a moment before nodding, a human gesture he had picked up after serving as a soldier with the Black Mambas for years. "I'm always ready to fight," he said before lifting up his shotgun and aiming down the sights at the reinforced front wheels of the first armored car in the caravan. He exhaled and fired, the slug ripping through both front tires and causing them to deflate and fall apart. The echo of the shot rang through the alleyway and the street, causing pedestrians to panic and flee the scene as heavily armored guards poured out of the side doors of the armored cars and unholstered their carbines.
"Go, now!" I shouted, and both me and Cinder rushed out into the fray, our guns raised. Koraak was right behind the two of us, providing covering fire with his shotgun. Several guards fell quickly, Koraak's precise fire and the sheer force of the depleted uranium slugs putting them down for good as their heads were vaporized or their chest cavities were turned to mush. He emptied the tube with one final shot that painted the grey matter of a security guard on the door of one of the armored cars, then racked the shotgun and expertly loaded it in threes, his hands deft and agile as he reached for more slugs faster than any human.
With the cacophony of our initial assault, more Black Mambas poured out from the alleyways and the subways, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons; shotguns, submachine guns, pistols, machetes, baseball bats, and all manner of homemade explosives. Molotovs and more potent concoctions shattered against the asphalt, herding in the caravan guards with their volatile contents as they were quickly gunned down. The assault was working, and we were winning.
Then I heard the robotic whine of a combat droid activating, and my heart sank. One of the armored cars in the back activated the four combat droids it held, the robotic assault units detaching from their charging ports on the sides of the large van and began to form up, each armed with a terrifying array of deadly weapons meant to quash any and all resistance. They were blocky, soulless, utilitarian things that stood at eight feet tall, with flat feet meant for stomping and blades, grasping claws designed to lacerate flesh and shatter bone. On each shoulder was a weapon: on the left was a multi-barrel rotary grenade launcher loaded with 15mm concussion grenades, and on the right was a burst-fire splinter cannon. They were all painted a dull grayish-green, the color of Halcyon's Security Division, although some had a few decorations on them: the one closest to me had a bit of graffiti on the side that said Mr. Hugs in Comic Sans, which I couldn't decide whether that made it more or less terrifying. They split up without hesitation and began to scan the chaotic battlefield, their single, red, beady lenses the security forces had the gall to call eyes focusing on specific targets to eliminate.
An entire group of Black Mambas was torn to pieces by a cloud of flechettes as one of the droids fired a withering three-round burst of shotshells from the four gauge splinter cannon mounted on its shoulder. Another picked up a Black Mamba in its hand and crushed her skull effortlessly before tossing her limp body to the side, its single, red, remorseless robotic eye tracking a new target. Most bullets that struck their thick armored chassis simply bounced off, and those that could pierce the armor didn't seem to phase the droids whatsoever, merely notifying them of a new potential target.
"Damnit," I shouted as I gunned down another guard only for two more to take his place. "Cinder! We gotta pop open the cars and scram! Get the maglock cutters!"
Cinder rushed and slid over through a dirty puddle, pulling out a maglock cutter from the inside of his coat and slipping it onto the back door of the first van. It immediately went to work, drilling through the maglock with a high-powered plasma torch nozzle, and within ten seconds we heard the telltale clunk of the maglock separating. I yanked the door open and ordered I side, ready to escort the prisoners out… only for my face to contort in shock and horror.
The back was empty. There was not a single soul inside of the back brig of the armored car.
"What the fuck…" Cinder gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "What the actual fuck… what the fuck is this, Troy?"
"I… I don't…" I stuttered the sounds of battle and carnage drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in my ears. All five cars were supposed to be filled with recently captured Russu from the front lines ready to be housed in the local Xenopet-Megaplex for processing and conditioning. The fact that this one was empty…
Suddenly, it all hit me at once with the force of a freight train, but it was too late. "We were set up, Cinder; our fucking client either squealed or was crooked to begin with…"
"Fucking bitch!" Cinder shouted as he spun around in an enraged arch, anger growing in his eyes. He aimed his shotgun at an approaching security guard and reduced his upper body to a fine red mist with a cacophony of shotgun blasts. "We gotta get everyone who's left out of here! Do you know what this means? The Jurors will be here soon, and then we're all going down! We gotta go, fuck the job!"
I grit my teeth. Not the Jurors, anything but the Jurors.
"Fine, gather everyone who's left and we'll slip through the sewers, the droids are too bulky to follow us there…"
As I spoke, my eyes wandered to the seventh and final armored car, the second of the droid cars, and my blood froze. Not only were all four ports empty, but they were also smaller and more shallow than the ports for the combat droids. That could only mean one thing.
"Oh fuck! Cinder, we gotta get our Russu members out of here! They've got arachnid droids!"
Arachnid droids were the stuff of nightmares. Resembling blocky, robotic arachnids the size of a manhole cover, they were specifically designed to take down sentient aliens, specifically the Russu, using sickeningly non-lethal means. They were equipped with full-body adaptive cloaking to blend in with their environments, paralytic agents that they could inject into their victims, built-in taser barbs, psychedelic gas ports for crowd-control, and a narrow-coned cacophony canon that disabled the Russu using incredibly high-pitched sounds that only they could hear, forcing them onto their knees and clutching the backs of their heads where their auditory organs were stored in agony. But worst of all was their stygian spinnerets: special ports near the end of their robotic abdomens that excreted a viscous, latex-like substance made up of millions of nano-bots. This substance could be used to render Russu blind, deaf, and mute by having it forced onto their faces, the black substance growing and enveloping their heads and working its way into every orifice. It was completely permeable to the standard atmosphere, but any Russu who had been 'webbed' was completely helpless and essentially captured, and the 'webbing' was both nearly indestructible and nigh impossible to remove without a triple-encrypted override key that was found in every arachnid droid's code, which was corrupted when the droid was destroyed or hacked into. Once you were 'webbed', you were essentially captured and the standard protocol was to leave you to the wolves since the nano-bots could be tracked, endangering the entire gang.
I turned just as I heard the deafening sound of Koraak discharging his shotgun, and I saw him squaring off against one of the assault droids. The droid has obviously been programmed to not use lethal force against Russu if possible, as instead of simply killing Koraak with it's shoulder-mounted splinter cannon, it approached with its claws extended, blades retracted. Koraak continued to back away and fire, pumping the droid full of depleted uranium slugs, its armor crumbling inward as the slugs pierced its chassis and damaged its internal cyberstructure. Eventually, Koraak ran out of slugs and instinctively reached to his bandoleer only to find that he had no more shells left at all, and he drew one of his knives and his sidearm, a simple high-caliber handgun. He tried to take down the droid with his handgun, but the bullets didn't even seem to affect the droid upon penetration, it's claws still extended as it attempted to apprehend Koraak.
In the corner of my vision, as I watched Koraak battle with the droid, I noticed a faint shimmer in the air on one of the black streetlight poles that was right behind him. I focused on it and blinked, believing my eyes had deceived me for a moment before realizing that it was actually a cloaked arachnid droid stalking Korvaak, ready to pounce and incapacitate him.
Before I could shout, it leaped from the pole and landed on Korvaak, causing him to shout in surprise while it began to coagulate its horrifying stygian webbing to disable Korvaak. Korvaak tried to wrestle it off of him, but the droid was agile and fast, clinging onto Korvaak and skittering around across his upper body as he attempted to grab it, forcibly wrapping the sticky black liquid across his face as he gagged like a spider wrapping up a fly. I rushed towards him to try and help, but I felt pain explode in my ribs as I was struck with the arm of the closest combat droid and launched into the chassis of a parked car, the metal denting from the sheer force of impact. I groaned in pain as I saw stars and my head spun, and just then I felt a blinding light be cast over me.
“Drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head, or you will be pacified with deadly force!” Shouted a loud, artificially deepened voice from above. “I repeat, drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head! Neither hostility nor hesitation will be tolerated!”
It was the Jurors, I could feel the air being pushed around from the thrusters on their drop ships, and I could hear screams and shouts as my fellow Black Mambas were quickly gunned down. I couldn’t see well since I was seeing double, but I could hear the slaughter as my eyes dimmed and I began to lose consciousness, my regrets crawling up my throat like vomit.
I’m sorry was all I could think as everything finally went dark, and the sounds of chaos, destruction, and combat faded away.
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Memory halted due to loss of consciousness. Booting next available memory in shard…
Booting up memory scan: Koraak Tel-Char Bruno, November 5th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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“Good morning, sleepyhead; it’s time for breakfast.”
My eyes shot open. I was not in the street anymore, nor was I home in my bed with my mate. I knew instantly that something was horribly wrong. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t gain the leverage to do so: my ankles had been shackled together with magnetic cuffs and my arms were forced together in front of me.
I was wearing some kind of thick shirt. It was warm, fluffy, and comfortable on the inside, but it still made me incredibly uncomfortable that my arms didn’t have a free range of motion. I looked down to see that I was wearing some human garment I had heard about before, a straightjacket maybe?
The entire room was padded: the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. There was no bed or furniture; the floor was soft enough to serve as a bed in itself. There was nothing else except for the soft reddish-orange lights on the ceiling that somehow made me sleepy. I blinked slowly for a moment, my body screaming at me to just lay back down and lose consciousness, but I couldn’t do that: I needed to figure out where I was and how to escape.
Then I noticed who was speaking to me: it was a short human female, with crow's feet around her blue eyes, blonde hair braided down her back, and freckles all over her face. She had a soft smile on her lips, and her forehead was slightly crinkled. She wore a full-body white lab suit with a white overcoat and a pair of glasses for snugly on her face.
"There we go, now I can see those pretty eyes, such a beautiful shade of teal," she cooed softly, "You're such a handsome boy, even with all those scars: I'm sure you'll be adopted very quickly once we get you fixed up."
Fear gripped my heart as I began to piece all the evidence together. I had been captured; I was no longer on Halcyon, and instead, I was in one of the horrific space-born facilities I had heard so much about from the inside agents. I started to hyperventilate and squawk like a newborn hatchling, my eyes dilating in panic. This couldn't be happening! This has to be a nightmare!
The human woman merely wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into an embrace, cradling my head under her chin and speaking softly. I couldn't bite at her or claw at her: I was muzzled and wearing a straight jacket, so I had no choice but to allow her to coddle me.
"It's okay, sweetheart: I understand you're scared, but Julie's here to make all the pain and bad thoughts go away," she said as if she was comforting a child, which made anger blossom in my chest indignantly. "I'll be your caretaker for the next few months, and I'm going to make sure you're healthy, happy, and most importantly safe while you're under our care. I'm sorry to say that includes your restraints and restrictive clothing, but we have to make sure you aren't a threat to yourself or others before we can determine if it's a good idea to remove you from suicide watch."
I growled under my muzzle. Suicide watch? They must have had a lot of instances of Russu taking their own lives after being captured, something I wished I had been able to do before that damnable droid launched itself onto me and…
I shuddered at the thought of the black, viscous substance forcing itself into my nostrils and down my throat and windpipe, gagging me and rendering me completely helpless. It was so cold, so harsh, like slime, and when I had tried to tear it off of my face it merely attached itself to my claws and bound my talons together. I remember squirming on the ground as it enveloped me, unable to see, hear, or speak, and then everything went dark in an instant. It was the most horrible thing I had ever experienced, which was saying something.
"You alright, sweetheart? Oh, I know, you're probably hungry! Here, try some of this." She held up a piece of what looked like raw bacon and wiggled it in front of me before reaching out to remove my muzzle. In an instant, I attempted to snap at her only for pain to blossom in my forehead and my eyes to roll up in my head as I convulsed. It was like something was attempting to drill through my skull from the inside, and every breath felt empty and labored.
"Now, that didn't feel very nice, did it? This is why we have countermeasures in place because we can't trust you yet, sweetheart! Don't worry, we'll work on breaking you of all those bad behaviors and habits while you're here; after all, a well-trained pet is a happy pet!" She began to stroke the crests on my head as I slowly recovered, and she snugly fit the muzzle back onto my snout. "But I won't hold it against you this time, sweetheart; you're just scared and confused, but I'll make all the pain go away."
I struggled in the straight jacket, trying my best to break out of it, but it was no use. Eventually, I became exhausted and despondent, allowing my new caretaker to have her way with me as she gently ran her fingers through my feathers and along my ridges, quietly speaking to me in a hopeless attempt to cheer me up. She seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being, which concerned me even further: who could be this naturally twisted while attempting to be as benevolent and kindhearted as possible?
I felt the pain and terror build up in my chest, the anxiety from what horrific activities I imagined they had planned for me here. I couldn't take the infantilization, the lack of any autonomy, the dehumanization, and what I feared the most was if the rumors of 'rebirth' were true: would they take my personhood from me?
Suddenly, I felt her whisper to me. "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you're so scared and confused, but I promise you everything will be okay: it's going to be your birthday soon, and then everything will get better." She ran her fingers through the feathers along my crest lovingly. "It will be such a wonderful day, and then we'll choose for you the most wonderful family, and you'll spend the rest of your life happy in your forever home! Doesn't all of that sound wonderful?"
I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to lose myself, not like this, not to these monsters!
"It'll be your birthday soon," she said wistfully as if she was remembering similar events to this in the past like I wasn't the first she'd done this too, "and you'll never be sad again."
I realized that I wasn't the first the stay in this particular cell, and I knew for certain that I wouldn't be the last: I'd end up like my brother, a broken, erased mess of a pathetic creature, reduced to nothing more than a pet for these humans to amuse themselves with.
"We took the liberty of picking out a nice name for you, sweetheart! Now, let me just slip this little programming chip into the port slot on your occipital bone, and... there we go! It will also help you calm down a bit and adjust."
I felt the chip begin to invade my mind, suppressing my thoughts. What made me me was slowly being ripped out of my mind. I couldn't remember my name my name is Bruno, and I needed to get out! I can't let them do this to me! Somebody help me! I was a good boy.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't work: I had trouble forming any words at all, the confusion clouding my mind like wet, slimy eels curling around my brain and sinking their teeth into its folds like needles. I couldn’t scream any longer, because I had nothing left: the chip was slowly beginning to take everything from me, robbing me of my identity and branding a new one into my psyche with a white-hot iron. Julie simply held me close, attempting to reassure me as I awaited the inevitable demise of my personhood. Soon I would be just like my brother: erased. My mind would be shaped into the mind of a loyal plaything, like a Dog.
##Relax. Allow caretaker [Julie] to comfort you. You will let go of your burden.##
Soon, everything was a blur. I quickly found myself resting my head in her lap as she whispered to me and fed me, my eyes bleary and my head fuzzy. I couldn't remember my name anymore My name was Bruno, and I needed to break free from this trance relax, and allow her to help me; good boys didn't resist help.
##Good Boy. Do not think. You are a good boy.##
You can't... I...
##Good boy.##
I wouldn't… good boys don't… I…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
Someone help me, please! I don't want to be erased!
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The following script is from episode #343 of Halcyon After Dark, a popular late-night and current events talk show hosted by Melinda Carter. This specific episode was sponsored in part by the Halcyon Security Division, with Director Lochlin O'Brien joining as a guest star to talk about the changing crime statistics in Halcyon City and the HSD's recent successes in busting organized crime as well as their plans for addressing the growing criminal underworld.
MC: Good evening Halcyon! I'm your host, Melinda Carter, and you're watching Halcyon's most popular late-night talk show, Halcyon After Dark!
The crowd claps and cheers as Melinda walks on stage and sits behind her desk, her glittering red dress waving as she does so from the special effects.
MC: Tonight we have a very special guest here to tell us about the state of crime in the city and his plans on resolving it: please put your hands together for the HSD's very own Director, Lochlin O'Brien!
The crowd cheers some more as HSD Director Lochlan O'Brien, a tall, muscular, caucasian male in his early forties with red hair and a well-trimmed beard steps into the room, waving at the crowd with a bright smile. He sits in the armchair angled next to Melinda's desk and gives her his full attention.
MC: It's so good to have you on the show, Director! Tell me, how are you doing on this fine evening?
LO: I'm doing excellent, Melinda: every day I wake up feeling fulfilled knowing I'm serving Halcyon to the best of my abilities and then some."
MC: That's the spirit, Director! Now, I know this question is just on everyone's lips, so I have to ask: how successful was the recent gang bust? I heard HSD forces took out dozens of gang members and liberated at least a dozen Russu Hounds from their abusive clutches, but I know that everyone in the audience and at home wants to know the numbers.
LO: I'd be glad to tell you, but I do have to preface this by saying that we still lost a lot of good officers that day, and while we did strike a crippling blow to one of Halcyon's biggest gangs, it doesn't change the fact that each death is a tragedy, and we're taking steps to prevent them in the future. That being said, those valiant officers did not sacrifice themselves in vain: we had over a dozen confirmed kills and several arrests, including the rescue of several corrupted Russu hounds.
MC: That's excellent, Director: proof that even when the number of degenerates and scum grow by the day, the HSD will always be here to keep the citizens of Halcyon safe.
LO: Absolutely, Melinda, and we're always working tirelessly to increase the efficiency and effectiveness of our units, as well as racing to stay several steps ahead of the many gangs of Halcyon at all times. My newest goal as Director is to vastly increase the funding given to our Robotics Department and our Neuro-Warfare Department to potentially reduce the number of casualties we may experience in the future, as well as to quickly and effectively detain, and if necessary, eliminate criminals. Within the next decade, I want to double the number of automated units each Security Platoon is assigned: droids are the future of public safety as well as countless other industries, and it would be foolish to be left behind.
MC: That is quite a lofty goal, Director: what about the displaced jobs from the increased automation? What will the union say?
LO: And to that, I say: what misplaced jobs? We aren't replacing our honored and beloved service members with droids, Melinda, we are simply supplementing our units with more droids to ensure that future gang assaults end with fewer HSD casualties and more gang members in prison or eliminated, simple as that.
MC: That makes much more sense, Director, thanks for clarifying. Now, I have one more question that I'm sure much of Halcyon wants to know the answer to before we take a short break: what plans do you and your fellow directors have to make long-term progress in reducing crime beyond just increasing funding? Have you proposed any plans to strike at the source of where crime and degeneracy flourish?
OL: That's an excellent question, and one I am proud to answer: my constituents and I have been working tirelessly on a two-step plan to greatly reduce crime levels in Halcyon. Step one would be to prevent people from becoming criminals and degenerates at all in the first place: a lot of young men and women, but especially young men, have lost either one or both parents or even a sibling, aunt or uncle, or even a close friend by the brutality of the Second Authority War, and while the service of their lost loved ones will always be recognized and honored, many of these young men and women are left bitter, angry and lost without the guidance these people give them in their lives. Oftentimes they seek to fill that void with others who claim to relate to them: career criminals. These criminals will fill their heads with lies and false narratives to make them feel like they're fighting back against the 'evil protectorate government' that took their loved ones from them by sending them off to war when in reality it was the rogue Xenopets of the Triarchy that took them away by resisting their just and inevitable unburdening.
In response, I have proposed a slew of special programs that will make sure local law enforcement and HSD officers are present and contributing to their local community, and we'll be providing easy and light job openings for youngsters and teens looking to make a career for themselves in the force when they grow up. We want to let these lost souls know that there are people who care about them, people who understand them and that you shouldn't turn to degeneracy to feel fulfilled. We want to help the youth of our great society soar to new heights!
MC: That sounds like a wonderful beginning to your plan, Director, but what about the second step?
LO: Well, the second step is to prevent criminals and degenerates from becoming repeat criminals. Sure, they've made their mistakes, some worse than others, but they're only human like the rest of us. Some of them have been through hell: some are traumatized veterans who don't know how to adapt to normal life, others were recruited when they were young and don't know that there's a better way to live, and even more are mentally ill. We're alone in this galaxy, and we can't leave so many people behind. That's why we've come up with an excellent solution: we've set up isolated communities on distant moons and frontier planets where these criminals can be reeducated, rehabilitated, and allowed to repay their debt to society. When they're deemed 'reformed' and have graduated from our program, they'll be granted a hefty stipend and their criminal record will be deemed irrelevant, allowing them to reintegrate and become functioning members of our proud society.
MC: all of these sound like incredible steps forward in the fight to better our society and make real progress, Director. Sadly, we do have to step away for a moment, but you best believe I'll be back, Halcyon, and we'll be asking the Director here some burning questions about allegations over the quality of life Erubus Supermax! Now, a word from our sponsors!
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Good, you’re still alive! The rest of this shard appears to be corrupted, which means this particular trail seems to have run cold here, but do not despair; you need to keep searching. Find out what happened. Find the truth.I cannot guide you any longer: they've already found me, and if I remain in contact with you they'll find you as well. Take the archival database, and see what you can piece together. Maybe if we discover what truly happened we can put an end to this madness once and for all. I'm counting on you. Don't cry for me, I don't fear death, but I fear what they'll do to me to get to you: there are far worse fates than death, after all.