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Hey everyone,

So much for keeping up the streak huh? ^^;
I managed to do 1 week of this before I disappeared into the Aether again ¬_¬

Thing is: I got a job! And it's a lot more draining of my sanity and time than I thought ^^;
Also I've been busy with things like a convention and am going to visit my grandmother next week - for a week - so that'll put a damper on Prompt releases even more.

ANYWAY, while I'm here, might as well do my job, and in honour of being swamped by life:

- Busy, busy, busy. Sometimes you're so overwhelmed by work and the need to eat and sleep in between, that you can't see the forest for the trees anymore. Describe how it felt and/or how you cope with it.

- When you do finally catch a break and get a moment to yourself, what do you do to unwind? And do you feel satisfied to get back to work or do you wish you could stay in bed a while longer?

There we are! All done. Hope these are to your liking :D
See you hopefully again soon :dummy:

Sakurai Amy
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Bearing Witness Nonfiction Contest EntryEvent: Second Nagorno-Karabakh War People: The citizens of Armenia and AzerbaijanFor the past few months I've seen multiple posts and articles on social media regarding the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War that broke out on September 27th, 2020. Amid the COVID-19 Pandemic, the governments of Armenia and Azerbaijan decided to go to war over the disputed region of Nagorno-Karabakh, which Armenia and the de facto Nagorno-Karabakh Republic have controlled since the end of the First Nagorno-Karabakh War in 1994. This will no doubt be remembered by the people of Armenia and Azerbaijan as a significant event in their national histories and a defining feature of the 2020s for the Post-USSR as a whole. As an impartial observer, here's my take on the Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict flaring up this year: both sides are morons. Even though Azerbaijan seemingly "won" and retook much of Nagorno-Karabakh, Armenia remains belligerent and now has a massive chip on its shoulder, potentially setting the stage for further conflict in the future. This is a never-ending dispute and a massive waste of time on my part given how much time and effort I invested in it back in the day. Until late 2012 I was a dedicated Armenophile and I was also very openly pro Artsakh, attempted to learn Armenian, and regurgitated Armenian nationalist views, though I also loved Turkey and advocated Turkish-Armenian reconciliation and making Azerbaijan the mutual enemy.But that changed in September of that year, when Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev bribed Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán into extraditing Ramil Safarov, an Azerbaijani ax murderer who hacked to death an Armenian soldier in Budapest during a NATO-sponsored "Partnership for Peace" program and was in Hungarian prison for it. This resulted in Armenia breaking off diplomatic relations with Hungary and a SHIT TON of anti-Hungarian sentiment appearing from Armenians online; I remember seeing Armenians all of a sudden supporting known Magyarophobes such as Ján Slota and Vadim Tudor as a result and several of them calling for Hungarian genocide. Almost overnight this resulted in a schism between me and my former Armenian friends; I used to have dozens and I was invested in Armenia in a similar way to how I'm invested in certain nations these days (though not as intensely as I only spoke a tiny bit of Armenian and didn't even completely master the script). But the fallout from this incident nevertheless destroyed any love I had for Armenia while intensifying my hatred of Azerbaijan. But then the following year after a massive argument with the Azerbaijanball page on Facebook (run entirely by Azerbaijani nationalists), who in the end outright apologized to me on behalf of their nation for any and all grievances I had against their people, I found I couldn't hate Azerbaijan anymore and I also started to see the conflict from the Azerbaijani point of view as well.So now I just see this conflict as a waste of time. I invested WAY too much energy in it and the only thing I gained is a lot of schematic knowledge regarding both sides and their history. Nevertheless, both sides see each other as completely subhuman and I've seen the rhetoric they push; Armenians saying "Khojaly Myth" while exaggerating the Maraghar Massacre where a few dozen Armenians were killed while Azerbaijanis stipulate that Maraghar never happened and that Khojaly was a "genocide" is just the tip of the iceberg. Then you have Armenians literally drawing pictures of goats being slaughtered and saying they're Azerbaijanis while Azerbaijanis say "The Turks forgot Kim Kardashian" ad nauseum. Since they're seemingly equally matched in most aspects I see no point in getting involved and nowadays I see both as idiots wanting to kill each other. The fact that both sides decided to go to war during a global pandemic is also unbelievable and shows how inane the conflict is as it has resulted in infrastructural damage on both sides that will inevitably exacerbate the COVID situations in both Armenia and Azerbaijan.Moreover, the conflict as a whole seems to be a shitty excuse for proxy warfare as I see all the Turkic nations support Azerbaijan out of mere Pan-Turkic solidarity. While Christians (and many Westerners in general) support Armenia for religious solidarity or anti-Islamic/anti-Turkic sentiment. On top of that the Russian and American governments are selling weapons to both sides with an aim to profit off of their mutual slaughter while claiming to support peace in the region (alongside Iran, where large and culturally significant ethnic Azerbaijani and ethnic Armenian minorities live). Additionally, America will benefit from having presented itself as an impartial observer and allowing Armenian and Azerbaijani diaspora within its borders to rally in support of their ancestral homelands. Russia will also see Putin's ratings go up after he strong-armed a peace deal between the two belligerents in order to raise the image of Russia and strengthen Russian influence in the Transcaucasus region; Armenia will be told that Putin prevented the country's destruction while Azerbaijan will be told that Putin allowed many occupied lands to be returned. In Hungary where I live here's the irony: many of the Turanists support Azerbaijan but in Hungarian history, the dictator Ferenc Szálasi who ruled Hungary for a few months and touted Turanism, was ARMENIAN (Szálasi is the Magyarized form of Salossian). Also worth nothing Israel is quite hypocritical when it comes to Armenia:"We love you! We both suffered genocide""We won't recognize the Armenian Genocide or support you in the Nagorno-Karabakh Conflict because Turkey is one of the few Muslim states to even talk to us"In the end, the conflict can be summed up by this comment posted by one of my best friends in reference to the Iranian government demanding both sides stand down:Armenia + Retarded Western edgelords: "Ooga booga kill da mooZiz Artsakh is Armenia"Azerbaijan + Retarded Turanists: "Oldü galdü baldü maldü, Azerbaijan turkleri kill armo"The centrist Iranian regime: "bruh just stfu and grill"
FFM2020 #3: We Should Have Left ItBubbles. It’s always bubbles when I sleep. I dream of currents and dancing seaweed, or of vast sunken halls populated with the dead and scaled beings slipping through the waters. They say he lies dead and dreaming, and that one day he will rise once the stars have come right. Yet, he is not dead. How can something that is not alive as we know it be dead?We should have left it. Should never have hauled it up. There was a reason that, though Molly had cut herself on coral during the dive the sharks avoided the place it lay, and us once we grasped it. Cursed probably is kind.I have tried to dispose of it so many times now. So many times have I thrown it off the cliff behind the house trying to get rid of it and give it back to the sea. So many times have I taken it out alone on boats - no one would help me you see - only to find it WAITING in my garden on the return home.It smirks some days, others it glares. Rarely, such as when the moon is full, I would catch it grinning lasciviously at my wife while she tended the garden and she dutifully ignored it. Or I had thought she’d ignored it until the day I’d followed a noise late at night and witnessed the horrible rite her somnolent body enacted there upon the ground.I at least had my answer as to why our garden had become so prodigious in the years after we’d found it.She even now lies beneath his misshapen form. I wanted her buried sensibly in a cemetery, or cremated in that I might finally have her safe from him. Her last documents were iron though, and I was forced to allow what I was loathe to do. In her living absence now he comes for me too, and many times I have answered his calls.I fight it but my hand pens the final words on the matter of where I myself shall lay when my time comes. I shall at least be by my wife’s side. Together we will dream of below the waves and await the awakening.
One shots, Short stories etc.
XezbethShifting his body to a comfortable position on the thin mattress, Ritesh adjusted his laptop so that the pale glow from its screen bathed his face. The blue light from the screen illuminated his tiny bedroom and its sparse furnishings. A few feet away from his mattress, his ironed school uniform hung from a makeshift hook. His only proud article of clothing was placed far away from the clump of unwashed shirts and pants sitting in the corner inside a cardboard box.Anxiety written on his face, Ritesh bit his nails. Tomorrow was the last day of the student council election race. His last chance to get rid of his most formidable opponent, Satyadevi. The thought of that proud elitist taking the coveted spot of student council president made his blood boil. A girl, no less.He swore under his breath. He would take that bitch down and put her in her rightful place. A smirk made its way across his lips as his fingers clacked over the rusty keyboard keys. No matter, his plan would not fail. Ritesh stared at the page he landed on. A picture of a horned demon decorated the background, letters in red spelling out the name of the company “Xezbeth”. Below it was the company slogan, “Fake news at the tip of your finger”.It was his first time using the website. He had heard there was a promotion going on this week which made the options affordable to him. He navigated through the site, avoiding the flashy ads, and finally landed on the purchasing page. “Select target for fake news,” he read the instructions out loud. He typed Satyadevi’s name into the textbox and uploaded her photo. Next was a drop-down box that read “Select type of fake news”.His mind spun as the dozens of options presented itself. Racism, political beliefs, morals, religion… he simply selected one.After clicking through a few more pages, Ritesh got to the payment page. He sighed in relief upon seeing the 25% discount applied to his order. With a triumphant grin, he clicked “Pay”, letting the website suck in his money through his Google Wallet account.Seconds later, an email popped up, confirming his purchase together with a statement of anonymity and protection from legal liability. Ritesh closed his laptop and placed it on the floor beside him. As he lay in bed, he dreamt of a glorious victory. ~ ~ ~It was standing room only as hundreds of students crammed into the large hall to hear the final speeches of the candidates for the student council election. Ritesh, current favorite to win the election, delivered his speech with conviction and passion.Waves of boys shouted their approval as he outlined programs to help poor students and measures to curb the increase in feminism. His eyes glowed with glee as he clicked to the next slide to show the fake news Xezbeth had cooked up.“Look at this!” he exclaimed in feigned horror and disbelief. “How can we let the likes of Satyadevi take charge when she has secretly sided with the extremists?!”He shook an accusing finger at the fake article of Satyadevi collaborating with radical elements. Proclamations of outrage erupted from the student body, sending a thrill through Ritesh.After a few sweet seconds of revenge, he thumbed the next button on the clicker to advance to his concluding slide. When the computer didn’t respond, he frowned and pressed the button harder.A loud electronic buzz filled the room. He spun around to see the large screen flicker before turning black. Confused, he beckoned to the tech support people behind the stage but they ignored him, wide eyes staring at the screen.It was then that he noticed the discomforting quiet that blanketed the student body. A sense of impending dread sent a chill down his spine. Gulping hard, he turned to face the screen.Ritesh’s eyes bulged in their sockets at the sight of his own face on the screen. “Are you getting this?” Fake Ritesh in the video clip said to the cameraman.The camera zoomed out to fake Ritesh with his pants down taking position behind a donkey. Knowing what would happen, Ritesh shook his head violently. He spun to face his audience and yelled, “This is fake!”He waved his hands in desperation. “Can’t you see this is photoshopped?? It’s from a movie scene!!”The moans and groans from the video clip drowned out his pleas, as its transfixed audience soaked in the depravity of the act. When the clip ended, boos resounded through the hall. “No, no, this can’t be,” he mumbled, backing away from them as crumpled paper and dirty shoes rained down on the stage. Two staff members hurried to drag him away before the student mob climbed up onto the stage. He barely registered their presence, his eyes glazing over in shock. His limbs went slack as he saw his dream disintegrate in front of him. The hands holding him steady abruptly let go and Ritesh found himself slumped in a rickety chair. His mind went blank as he tried to process what had happened. A snigger shook him from his thoughts. “I thought you always said guys are superior to girls, Nitesh.”His gaze traveled up to meet a pair of cunning, brown eyes. “Satyadevi,” he whispered.The girl bent down until her breath tickled his ears. “You’re not the only one who can buy fake news, idiot.”Ritesh paled. He stared at her, wide-eyed, as she straightened up. A mere girl had stolen his position. Crushing defeat slammed into him.Not waiting for a reply, she walked out onto the stage to deafening cheers and into a new era for increased women’s rights.Alone backstage, a single tear rolled down Ritesh’s cheeks. He mouthed a silent “You win” to no one in particular.But they were both wrong. Neither of them were the real winners.Xezbeth was.
Story Chapters
The Child, AnointedChapter 1 Zoart the wizard stared into the candle flame as if hypnotized, oblivious of the others in the room. His visitors waited patiently in silence, careful not to disturb him. You must never interrupt a wizard in the middle of a vision. As they watched, the candle flared and guttered, flared and guttered again, then went out. A trail of blue smoke twisted upward, where it wrapped around clusters of garlic, rare herbs and spices hung from the open timber rafters. Slowly, Zoart fought his way back into the land of the living. His skin appeared pale and cold, but beads of perspiration stood on his forehead and dripped from the end of his long, hawk-like nose. It collected in a puddle on the rough-cut wooden table. His visitors all knew when he stepped over into the spirit world there was no guarantee he would be able to return. But the needs of the kingdom were great, and under the circumstances it was a risk they all felt must be taken. The wizard had been gone for quite some time, and though he was slowly returning from his journey, his eyes still had a far away look in them. “Bring fire,” Zoart croaked to his assistant. “Relight the light. I am cold.” His voice sounded as if he were still far away. The wizard’s apprentice placed a woolen blanket over his master’s shoulders, picked up a fire stick from the table and, after several attempts, coaxed a guttering flame back out of the candle wick. Just a boy of fourteen, he had brown eyes and long dark hair tied up in a ponytail. A strong youth with a ruddy complexion, his strength came from the work he did many hours every day, his master being too old for hard manual labor. The boy’s name was Adak. He had been apprenticed to the wizard at the early age of five. It was not uncommon at that time for boys to be sent away by parents too poor to feed them, and apprenticed out to learn a trade. Adak was fortunate to be taken in by the wizard who saw something in him no one else could see. The wizard slumped back into his chair, exhausted from his journey across the boundary between the worlds of the living and of the spirit. His long flowing white hair hung over the back of the chair, nearly touching the floor, and his beard lay on his chest like a pile of freshly fallen snow. Zoart had been the official court wizard and soothsayer, trusted by the Royal Court for many years. The young King and Queen of Arathea stood across the table, waiting patiently to continue their audience with him. It was considered unwise to rush a wizard. The king himself knew what it was like to be rushed. He had the throne thrust upon him prematurely due to the untimely death of his parents. Barely eighteen years old now, tall and muscular with green eyes and a mane of flaming red hair, the prince had not even had time for a quest to prove himself a man before finding his mother and father murdered in their bed chambers. The queen was even younger. Golden-haired and fair of complexion, the daughter of the king of the neighboring country of Gualt was not yet sixteen. Their marriage had been arranged ten years earlier in the hope that it would unify the two kingdoms and cement the covenant between the two neighbors. Upon the death of the parents, the wedding ceremony was rushed ahead and Prince Timon and Princess Ginny were married. He was sixteen, she, not yet fourteen. The next day they were crowned King and Queen of Arathea. It was not long after the wedding that young Queen Ginny found herself to be with child. Fearful of a birth because of her age she sought private council from the court physician, who recommended that because of her age she terminate this first pregnancy to protect her health. “You are much too young,” said he. “There is great danger to your life. What will Arathea do if they lose another queen so soon, and especially to lose her in childbirth when the loss could be avoided?” He gave her a foul-smelling potion which she dutifully drank. Within days the pregnancy had been terminated and the dead child passed. Unfortunately for the queen, it left her unable to have another child. Her father, King Fredrick of Gault, was infuriated when he heard of the death of his first grandchild. He immediately suspected foul play, declared war upon Arathea, and before it could be stopped, the armies of both kingdoms were arrayed on either side of the stream dividing the two Kingdoms. King Timon and his councilors suspected the court physician of treason for secretly manipulating the young Queen into killing her child. Upon rigorous interrogation he denied murdering the king and queen, but admitted what he had done was to purposely start a war. The executioner was summoned. This only made matters worse. Before he died he pointed the finger at Prince Leroy, son of King Leon of neighboring Pancea, a mountainous country which bordered both Arathea and Gault. When King Fredrick discovered the plot, he joined forces with his son in law, King Timon, to punish the evil doers of Pancea. The war between the three countries had been going on for two years when the King and Queen of Arathea went to the wizard in desperation. It was only after many lives were lost on all sides, Zoart finally agreed to put his own life at risk and travel over into the world of the spirit to seek the answer to their dilemma. All hoped to prevent the loss of more lives. Finally the wizard’s eyes lost their distant glaze as he returned to the land of the living with the information he had obtained at great price from those he visited. “I have seen the spirit of your daughter and met with her,” he said, his voice weary with exhaustion. Queen Ginny was ecstatic. “A daughter! We never knew what the baby was. What did she look like? How old is she? What color is her hair?” “There is no age in the spirit world,” the wizard said. “As to what she looked like, that is irrelevant since she will soon have a new face. Her spirit name is Amarathč. She realizes the need of her people is great. She will accept the challenge and return to join her spirit with that of the child until such time as the child can rule on her own. But the child hosting her must be perfect, without blemish. She will accept no less. After all, the child will be queen one day.” He paused, and motioned to his apprentice. “Bring me the mirror basin and water. I must show you the child she has selected.” Adak retrieved a large basin from its shelf on the wall and placed it in the center of the table before the wizard. The basin was silver, engraved with unrecognizable runes and images. Into this, he poured water from a large earthen pitcher. “More light. I must have more light.” As Adak busied himself fetching and lighting more candles, the wizard began to recite incantations over the basin of water. Soon all was prepared, and Zoart recited the last of the incantation. The surface of the water stilled and became mirror-like. Then an image began to appear, misty at first, then becoming clearer. The image was of a toddler, a little blonde girl of about eighteen months. She was playing with a poppet on the dirt floor of a mud and thatch hut. As they watched, a slender young mother with unkempt blonde hair and wearing a dress of little more than rags, entered the scene and picked up the child. The poppet tumbled to the floor as the mother lifted the child to her breast. The child immediately began to nurse, and as she did, another person entered the scene. This man, apparently the child’s father. Obviously a hard working peasant, his clothes were dirty and torn. In one rough, cracked hand he held several turnips by their greens and these he sat on the rough table before the mother. The mother sat the child down on the floor and handed her the fallen poppet. She then disappeared from the scene briefly, only to return with a fire-blackened kettle and a large knife. She began to chop the turnips, greens and all, and put them into the kettle for turnip soup. Meanwhile, the father had collapsed exhausted into a rough wooden chair. The image of the parents began to fade, to be replaced by an image of the toddler’s face. “Quickly, Adak!” Zoart commanded his apprentice. “Observe the face of the chosen one!” The wizard reached for a lighted candle, and reciting an incantation, plunged the unlit end into the water of the basin, at the center of the image of the child. The candle flame flickered, then produced a clear, bright, round flame. In the center of the flame the image of the girl appeared. “This is the face of the one you will be seeking.” “Me, Master?” Adak asked. “Why me? I’m just a boy.” “Do not underestimate yourself, my young apprentice. You are nearly a man. You will be one by the time you return.” “Do you think I’m ready for such a quest?” “You possess the magical skills and incantations you will need. The question is, do you have the courage?” “But Master, must I go alone?” As Adak stood hoping for an answer more to his liking, the wizard clapped his hands three times. “Come out from behind the curtains, lass. I know you’re there, again listening to things which don’t concern you.” From behind the curtain stepped a young servant girl about Adak’s age, with red hair and large green eyes. She saw the wizard’s apprentice staring at her, and blushed coyly. She curtsied to the king and queen, then turned to the wizard. “Yes, my lord?” “Your name is Ruthin. Your mother works in the kitchen and your father was killed in the war. Ruthin, I am about to send this brave young man on a perilous quest. He doubts himself, and thinks he can only complete this quest with assistance. I believe what he lacks is a reason to be brave, so I am going to give him one.” “I have noticed how you look at each other when you think I don’t see. It would not do for something to happen to him and you not know it. Since you seem to have an interest in things that do not concern you, I shall send you with him. Maybe you can keep him from getting lost and out of trouble.” The wizard chuckled. Few had heard this sound from him before. “But Sir,” said she. “Why me? Wouldn’t it be better to send someone older and stronger to protect him?” The wizard gazed at her with piercing eyes. “You are stronger than you know, lass. An older man would draw attention. Your quest must remain secret. Others may be seeking the child, even now. “Besides,” he continued. “The child will need a mother on the return trip.” “But Sir, I’m not a mother. I don’t know how to be one.” “Young Ruthin, you will discover that being a mother is more natural than you suspect. But if not mother, an older sister will suffice. “You must leave immediately,” he continued. “There is no time to lose.” “But where do we look, Master?” Adak still hoped for a reprieve. “The image gave no clues.” “There you are wrong. You must learn to be more observant. The image did show where to look. This child will not be found in a palace, or even in the home of a merchant or shopkeeper. Her family lives as peasants in abject poverty. The father is either a peasant farmer, or a farm laborer. Either way, look for a turnip patch in the farmlands near the river. It is there you must start. The child will be in a peasant hovel near by. “Take this candle with you. With it you will be able to confirm that the child you have found is the correct one. It will burn down only slowly, and will give you direction whenever you need it. Do not lose this candle. We must be sure of the selection.” The apprentice placed the candle securely into the potions pouch over hisshoulder. It was then the king’s turn to contribute. He handed Adak a small coin purse. “Take this gold with you. If the family is as poor as they seem, it may be that they will sell the child, or at least accept a token from their king as a reward and symbol of gratitude for allowing us to adopt her. But keep the bag well hidden, there are many robbers in the world who would cut your throat for one of these coins. Adak hung the bag’s leather strap around his neck and placed the pouch inside his shirt. “Go to the stable,” the wizard instructed the boy. “Tell the farrier to give you the two donkeys, Daisy and Dobey. They are gentle but courageous, and will serve you well.” “Now you must be gone,” he commanded. “I don’t need to tell you how important this mission is. Aratheans die every day waiting for your return.” “Then why send me?” Adak pleaded with the wizard. “Us? Why not someone older and more experienced? Someone bigger, stronger, with proven courage?” “Because Amarathč has chosen you. She sees something in you that she trusts, as do I.” With that, the boy and girl bowed to the king and queen, and left the room. When they returned, they would be adults.
Songs Lyrics
My first song in HungarianTalpra, Fehérorosz! (Падымайся, Беларус/Беларуска!)Hadd védjük a fehéroroszt (Абараняйма беларуса/беларуску) Bárhonnét fenyeget vész! (Адкуль б не пагражала небясьпека!) Kibírtátok az elnyomást (Вы вытрымалі ўціск) De most végre balsors elvész! (Але цяпер зусім зьнішчае злая доля!) Együtt vagyunk e harcunkban (Мы разам у гэтай барацьбе) Habár sok bonyodalom! (Хоць шмат усялякіх прыкрасьцей!) Fehéroroszországunkban (У нашай Беларусі) Hatalmas a forradalom! (Велізарная рэвалюцыя!)Folytatódik a kocsedó (Працягваецца бязладзьдзе) Barátaim bebörtönzésével! (З заключэньнем у вязьніцу маіх сяброў!) Talán jövőnk lesz ragyogó (Можа будучыня будзе зьзяць) Újjáéledésünkkel! (З нашым нанова ажыўленьнем!) Mintha megéreztem volna (Нібыта я адчуваў) Hogy büszkeségüket visszanyerik! (Што гонар свой зноў яны атрымаюць!) Túl sokáig volt mostoha (Зашмат было нам мачыхі) Végre itt az idő, úgy tűnik! (Здаецца, прыйшоў час нарэшце!)Nekünk van értékes nyelvünk (Мы маем каштоўную мову) Az ő szépsége mindörökké! (Яе прыгажосьць на вякі!) E nyelvben nemzeti lelkünk (Гэтая мова - нацыі нашай душа) Ezért védjünk ami a magunké! (Таму абаронім тое, што нашае!) Kitartunk a legvégéig (Трымаемся да самага канца) Elválaszthatatlanul! (Непадзельна!) Mindenhatók vagyunk ameddig (Мы магутныя пакуль) Beszélünk fehéroroszul! (Размаўляем па-беларуску!)
Into the Eyes of the Gray WolfWhy are wolves so misunderstood? Is it the folklore surrounding these majestic animals or the remains of a farmer’s cattle out in the field? The answer to that question varies depending on whom you ask but one thing is very clear most people know very little of the creatures they hate. This shows that gray wolves are one of the most misunderstood creatures on the face of the planet. One day that may change thanks to the studies done about their family life, hierarchy, and pack behavior.The most essential part of any wolf pack is the young for they pass down their genes. How they raise their young is different from most mammals. This begins with finding a perfect place to raise their young for instance a pregnant wolf can spend days searching for the perfect spot to give birth to pups ( Dutcher 47). Once the pups are born comes the grueling job of making sure they stay healthy and make it to adulthood. Fortunately for the pups “all of the pack’s adults help to care for young pups by bringing them food and watching them while others hunt” (Gabriel). Having a whole pack to protect them increases their chance of survival tenfold compared to the majority of animals who raise their young either by themselves or with their mate. Even the mate acts differently when it’s time for the pups for whenever they’re born the breeding male willingly gives up food to the mother wolf instead of keeping it for himself (Merch 1201). Which hints that the wolf cares more for its pack then for its own benefit. Unlike most mammals whose main concern is survival wolves like to make sure the younger members of the pack feel at ease “Kamots and Mastsi even brought bones and pushed them through the chain-link as little welcoming favors” (Dutcher 63). Of course, the most important part of puppyhood is teaching them how to survive in the world they were born in which is done primarily by the older wolves sharing hunting strategies and techniques with the young wolves ,in turn ,preserving their way of life for generations (“The Social Wolf”). This is why when observed the wolves share similar hunting techniques even after long periods.There’s a distinct difference between the roles of dominant and subordinate wolves in a wolf pack. The dominants contribute the most to the pack which starts at breeding rights since there’s usually only one pair of wolves who mate in the pack the dominants (Gabriel). Unless there’s a year of abundance for the pack in which case more wolves in the pack may be permitted to mate. Similar to most social mammals the dominant breeding pairs provide the most leadership in a wolf pack (Peterson 1405). This is likely because they’re the ones that keep new members coming into the pack the most important part of any wild animal. In the pack, the dominants even play the main part in scent-marking as stated by Peterson “all scent- marking was done by wolves of higher status” (1410). When the wolves first start deciding the hierarchy is when they’re newborn pups (Dutcher 72). Since they have to fight for the feeding spots. Even the posture of the wolves is different as stated by Merch “dominant wolves assume the classic candid standing posture with tail up at least horizontally, and subordinate or submissive individuals lower themselves” (1198). The subordinates do this to show respect to the dominants in the pack. They keep the pack hierarchy in place by growling and shows of aggression (Dutcher 75). In this way, the omega in the pack may stay in that position for years until the pack finally lets it retire. The most unknown part of the wolves species is how they interact as a pack and how much they need each other. Since wolves live in a pack there must be some level of trust to show this Dutcher states “for wolves to live together in a pack, they must trust each other without question” (33). This is likely because they hunt as a pack so they must trust each other to do their part, which also applies to pup care. In the pack the lowest ranking wolf the omega often gets picked on the most to keep it in its place luckily though at times wolves would protect the omega from other pack members perhaps as a show of friendship (Dutcher 35). Due to the nature of what they hunt wolves often sustain injuries from the hunt, but unlike other animals, that would leave the heavily injured ones behind the wolves “care for injured companions” (“The Social Wolf”). Which includes bringing them food if needed and could also be their way of strengthening bonds with each other. How they react to death is also quite interesting for after Motak’s death the wolves howled as a lone wolf instead of as a group and didn’t react with interest as they used to (Dutcher 178). Some would say the pack acted depressed which can be seen in a few animal species such as elephants. Wolves also seem to have some loyalty in them for when Lakota wouldn’t come out of his crate Kamote went back to Lakota crate and whined still his brother came out after noticing his brother was still fearful he leaned against him seemed to encourage him (Dutcher 198). This shows that a pack bound is more complicated than what meets the eye.Gray Wolves one of the world’s most mysterious creatures are finally becoming known due to the research in pup rearing, hierarchy, and pack behavior in the United States. Regardless of the research done there’s still hated surrounding this majestic creature. Though those that do are getting less as time goes by. Hopefully one day the hatred will deplete entirely across the world. Maybe then all will hear the wolves howl in the darkest of nights. Works CitiedGabriel, Angeli. “Gray Wolf.” National Geographic. National Geographic Society,2019, Accessed 7 November 2019. Jim,and Jamie, Dutcher. THE WISDOM OF WOLVESLessons from the Sawtooth Pack. Bekoff, Marc, and Manfull, James, National Geographic, 2018. Merch, David L. “Alpha Status,dominance, and division of labor in wolf packs.”Can. J. Zool, 1999 pp. 1198-1202. Google Scholar Accessed 6 November 2019.Peterson,Rolf O , Jacobs, Amy K, etal. “Leadership behavior in relation to dominance and reproductive status in gray wolves.” Can. J. Zool , 2002. pp. 1405-1410. Google Scholar, Accessed 6 November 2019. “The Social Wolf”. Living with Wolves. 2019, 7 November 2019..
Donnie, Put Down the Flamethrower (RotTMNT)“Thou hast angered me for the last time!” Donnie rose up, whipping out his tech bo. “Prepare to meet thine end!” Pointing it forward a bunch of blades popped out.“Oh no,” Leo leaned in the doorway. “I hear Shakespeare, what’s going on?” His eyes widened at Donnie pointing his bo staff at a computer.“Go away Leo, I don’t have time for your snark!”He held onto the doorway, keeping most of him behind the safety of the wall. “What are you doing?!”“I’m trying to hack into this computer.”He raised an eyespace. “With actual blades?”“No, I-” With a grumble he lowered the staff. “Usually the Purple Dragon’s tech is subpar at best, but Kendra must’ve found some program I’ve never seen before because I can’t hack her computer; her firewalls have firewalls! Well,” he turned back to the computer, “let’s see how it likes actual fire!” With the press of a button his bo became a flamethrower.Leo carefully stepped into the room. “Maybe-”“Don’t say I can’t do it!” His head whipped to face him.“I wasn’t!” He said defensively before his eyes narrowed. “Are you feeling insecure?”“No!”He stared back, part worried, part just done with this. “I was going to say maybe you should take a break, come back to it when you’re…” he glanced at the flamethrower, “calmer.”“I’m fine! I just need to hack the firewall’s firewall, it’s firewall, and the password’s password.”“OK, just do it without this,” he snatched the tech bo from him before walking away.Holding up a fist his eyes clenched shut. “I will not be bested by the Purple Dragons! They are not smarter than me!”He rolled his eyes. “Donnie, no one’s smarter than you, you’ll figure it out.” He walked out.His brows rose, glare softening into sadness as he looked to the floor. He waited till he was sure Leo was gone. “Thank you…”He leaned back in with a smirk. “Anytime; except for now because skating’s about to come on.”“What?!” he glared at him. “When were you going to tell me that?” He ran out the door.He looked annoyed as he followed. “Oh now you want a break.”



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Rules of the Group & How It Works

A reminder of how this group works by my friend Chen :meow:

And click the link below to see what it'd look like if you got your poem read by our one and only Chen:…


Rule 1: No NSFW content. We're trying to appeal to all ages.

Rule 2: No trolling or being rude.
Self-explanatory really. We're here for fun, not to start wars. We have enough of those in real world as it is.

Rule 3: Since we always ask the permission of the ORIGINAL creator if we can read out their work, if a piece gets read of which the creator is NOT known, it could get us into serious trouble for using it without their permission.
So please, if you do NOT own a piece, we'd like to ask you all to NOT add it to our group, especially if you were considering having it read. That you submit it to your own DA account, is entirely up to you, but PLEASE don't add it on here.

Rule 4: Non-compliance with these rules will result in an automatic warning, before a ban is enacted on the second time.
We don't like to do this, but we also want to foster a nice, relaxed environment where everyone works together.

Rule 5: Since Chen is going to be SUPER busy with making videos both for this group and his channel, I'll be the main contact for this group.
So if you have any questions, suggestions or just want to talk, you can send them to me, since you probably will only only get an answer from Chen after Three...Days...Grace? (yeah, I didn't get it either)

Rule 6: Submit your work to the right folder.
So if you want your work read out in a video, put it in the "Readings" folder, short stories (one-shots etc.) into its folder, etc. etc.
If you're not sure, do you put it in the "Sorting Folder" and I'll put it in its correct place, or y' can let me know and I'll tell you where it belongs.

Rule 7: Just have fun! Yeah, we're the scary admin people, but we want to make this a nice place where people can chill and have fun whilst creating what they enjoy - which is art. So enjoy!


"WARNING: Depending on the admin you're talking to, you'll either get casual conversation or high levels of professionalism.
Tread with extreme caution"


"Our unicorgi Chen is ridiculously passionate, so be prepared to be burned if you get it him, lol. He will show you the power of a hot blooded anime protagonist!"

Join us in our chat room if you like! We don't bite :dummy:…




Add a Comment:
Rebel-for-a-Cause Featured By Owner Mar 28, 2019   General Artist
Sorry to bug you but the new folders don't have buttons to let us contribute to them.
TheEvilOvelords Featured By Owner Mar 29, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Yeah, I don't understand what that's about. I'll sort it a.s.a.p. :D
Rebel-for-a-Cause Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2019   General Artist
TheEvilOvelords Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
No problem. It should be sorted :D
bluerosekatie Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2019  Hobbyist Digital Artist
The chatroom link has gone dead...
TheEvilOvelords Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
Ah ok. I'll look into it, though not many people - if any - used it I think ^^;
bluerosekatie Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2019  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Rebel-for-a-Cause Featured By Owner Jan 29, 2019   General Artist
The poetry folder has hit its size limit.
TheEvilOvelords Featured By Owner Mar 10, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
So sorry for the way overdue reply. I've made another folder for things to be added to now >.<
dbzgal04 Featured By Owner Apr 25, 2018
Is fan fiction allowed?  Just want to be sure.
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