Hey everyone, tenant here. I've been living in a 2bd 1bth duplex for about 2 years now with my fiance and toddler, things were great and we've genuinely enjoyed the place, nice neighborhood and low crime area, all that good stuff but for the last 7 months we've been absolutely plagued by our neighbors shitty "emotional support" dog.
My fiance and toddler don't feel safe using our portion of the backyard anymore due to this dog's behavior. It's a medium sized dog, looks like a lab/collie mix and this thing absolutely loses its shit anytime I or my fiance/toddler enter our portion of the backyard. The neighbor also leaves it out there 5 days a week 8 hours a day while she's at work and from we can tell it's chained up to something in her garage but this dog absolutely does anything it can to try and get to us, clawing up dirt on the ground, snarling, snap barking, I've even seen it try to walk backwards to pull its collar over its head to get free and it will bark non stop, for the entire time that i or my family are in the yard, extremely annoying. Also, the property has no dividing fence so if this thing got loose it could easily go after my kid or fiance.
I've brought this up to the PM and I've heard nothing but crickets, this can't be right tho is it? I mean that dog basically rules the backyard with its aggression, is there anything I can do about this? Or do I just have to hope it doesn't get loose one day and put up with the constant barking?
Any advice is appreciated, thank you.

I wrote this just now after a long evening walk, and on second reading figured it matched both the tone and the aesthetic of this subreddit. I added it to a large collection of vignettes I have been writing for several years now that I refer to as "Suburban Gothic," though there's nothing particularly Suburban or Gothic about this particular piece. I present to you, "Suburban Gothic: Curse." You go deep into the Green to say these words. Some part of you knows that when something must die, it should die surrounded by life. You find a place where a nearby creek will wash away the sound of your words. The leaves of the trees will filter the venom from your breath as you speak. The roots of the trees will absorb the remains of whatever you leave here as it decays. You will not return to this place. You do not wish to poison the land more than it can cleanse itself. You take a moment to find your thoughts. To breathe deep and smell the loam, the petrichor, the bark and the creek. The antecedent of what is about to die is not present. But they are present all the same, in your mind. You see their face. You feel their soul. What you carried in with you, you will not carry out. You hold their gaze for a long moment. Then, you speak. “I do not forgive you.” The trees whisper on a gust of wind. “You took so much time from me.” The roots beneath you understand. Your time is shorter than theirs. So precious. Even having to spend these minutes seems like they’re robbing you even now… “You sat in a seat you didn’t deserve.” …but you, like the trees, know that a branch, once rotted, must be removed, for the sake of the tree. This is not waste. This is necessary. This death is to bring life. “And I didn’t know you didn’t deserve it until you were gone and someone else came along who did.” Your eyes sting. Tears threaten to fall. The roots and the loam wait patiently. They will take them from you, when you are ready. “You stayed there for so long, filling that spot, that I didn’t know what I had been missing until you were long gone.” The trees know this well. The long winter. The short days. The held breath, waiting for buds to form. “I will never get that time back.” These words are wrenched from a tight throat that has already begun to ache. The loam now drinks. The roots begin their work of filtering. “I don’t understand how you could be so close to me while hating so much of what makes me what I am.” This, the Green does not understand. The duplicity that it knows is far simpler than what was done to you. “How could you claim to love me when you hated so much of what made me happy?” The river shushes your echoes. This is not for anyone else to hear. “You got one thing right. I didn’t fucking deserve you.” It leaves your lips tasting of bile. Is there less of it in you, now? It is hard to say. You wait for an answer. You get it. Something cruel, or perhaps callous. Something emblematic of the contempt and disdain that drove you here. You reply: “The only comfort I have is that you’ll never sit in that seat again.” The trees lean in, crowding out the sunlight filtering through their boughs. There is more. They wait for it. “Not for me, anyway,” you say in a small voice. There is no bile here, now. What the leaves sieve from your voice is not what brings pain, but what springs forth from it. “I hope you break,” you say suddenly, raising your head to confront them in your mind’s eye. “I hope it all comes back on you at the worst possible moment.” Here is the essence of it. The ritual itself. Something the Green has heard many times before. “I hope you get ripped out of that seat in every heart you’ve torn into. I hope you reach out for help and not a single soul answers you. I hope you scream and the silence is deafening.” There is the core, the pain you will leave here. But there is more to a curse than this. The forest is quiet save for the creek, which sings louder to absorb your words as they become more vehement. “I hope you feel all of that…” You search for something. There is more inside you. It needs to come out, or this venom will not remain in the Green. “I hope you feel it all, and I hope in that moment, you understand.” The Green hears. You may have stumbled, unknowing, into the truth, but there you stand all the same. “And I hope, after a good long while, you crawl out of that hole. And I hope you never forget that pain. And I hope that in that moment, you swear on your wretched life that you’ll never put that pain into anyone else, ever again.” The creek roars like a river. The leaves inhale deeply of the bitter spite. The roots and the loam drink the agony as it falls. “Let me be the last.” And with that, it is done, though you may not know it. You stay for a while, but eventually something prods you to leave. You have shed something here, and it is not proper to revisit it until it has had time to decompose and become part of something wholesome. You walk back to your car. You don’t feel lighter. Not yet. Like any death, it will take some getting used-to. But the Green is not the only place where new life can grow from death.

I think the most obvious answer here is pop culture. Its normalized in music movies etc. What i find ironic is that some Caucasian kids call each other nigga when their grandparents would eagerly call their black slaves ni*gger.
If you've lived in America especially if you came from an African country you will definitely feel a sharp pain in your heart when you are eventually called a subhuman ni*gger. This has completely turned me off from the word in general even in the form nigga.
Yes i know its just a word at the end of the day but does that still make it okay to continue the culture of calling blacks niggas this way we will never be respected and always be the but of racial jokes.
That aside why do you as a Kenyan use the word nigga? Its origins are supper dark and i don't think we should keep it alive.
This will for sure be down voted because its a different way of thinking but im curious nonetheless

First time making a post like this.
I (20M, Hispanic) have been friends with Kelly (20F, White) for about seven years now. For context, we have both never had a relationship that lasted longer than three weeks, and we both have diagnosed mental issues we deal with. We met in high school and we were both part of a large friend group. We’re still all extremely close friends to this day and even though all of us spread out to different colleges we remain incredibly close to one another, I’m truly grateful for the time I spend with all of them. I bring this up to say that our relationship started as purely platonic, I’ve always been able to separate the girls that I am just friends with from the ones that I was romantically interested in, and she was just my friend at the time.
We started growing closer over the years and began opening up to each other more, she was dealing with a lot of horrible things in high school and I cared about her so I would listen and talk about these things going through her head with her.
When she was at her worst I was there for her, and when I was at my worst she was there for me. She has always been more open to talking about her feelings than I am, so having a person I could truly open up to made me care about her so much more. I bottle things up and hide them behind my face but with her, I’ve always felt comfortable letting everything out as she would do with me.
I would call us somewhat emotionally codependent, and I feel it has been this way for about three years now.
Throughout this, she has been in my mind as nothing but a friend, to this day we have never had sex or even kissed. We had both been seeing and sleeping with other people, even discussing it. I’d ask for advice on how to plan dates for girls I was talking to, and she’s always been the type to sleep around but never get close to anyone she was engaged romantically with. I would call our relationship the closest thing to real love either of us has experienced so far in our lives. We have spoken about this fact, and have said “I love you” to each other since we became this close, however, this is something we say to all our other close friends as well.
This all changed when I took Kelly on vacation to my Mom’s home country last summer. I’m Hispanic, but grew up in the United States and lost my childhood Spanish when I started elementary school. Kelly is the only person I’ve ever seen actually learn Spanish from high school classes, she found a love for the language and the culture, and for this reason, I asked her to come with me.
What made me begin to see her differently was the love that she showed for the country I grew up in as a kid, the way she got along with my mom, how ecstatic she was to meet my grandparents that had never left the country, the conversations we had in each other arms where I felt like I truly helped her with what I said, and just how beautiful she looked that week in the sun.
By the end of the trip, I was head over heels in love with her and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Unlike everything else in my life, I couldn’t talk about this with her because I was scared of losing what I had with her, so I kept it bottled up. Soon the relationships I had outside of her felt more and more meaningless, and the ones I saw her in began to tear me up inside. It got to the point where I was truly attracted to no one but her.
It eventually became too much for me and I expressed these feelings to her, told her how much she meant to me and that I wanted to be with her, and she said no. She said that she only has ever thought of me as a close friend and that she does still love me, it’s just a different kind of love. Her relationship and care for me did not change because I expressed my feelings, she even understood why I would have them.
I was never angry and I never blamed her, I took it all out on myself. I couldn’t stand the sight of myself in the mirror anymore, or comprehend why I wasn’t good enough so I just hated everything about me. I started to compare myself to the guys she was sleeping with and hate myself for not being what she wanted. I lost myself and I never told her what I was going through.
I pushed her away because I couldn’t take it anymore and stopped talking to her as much as shortly after, and she noticed. She would call and I wouldn’t answer when I normally would, and I would leave her on delivered for long periods of time. I wanted to distance myself from her to try and deal with my emotions on my own for once. This was incredibly self-destructive for me and all I accomplished was isolating myself from her and the rest of the world.
This went on for about two months until one day after drinking with all our friends she came to me crying about how much she missed me in her life, and I broke down and apologized for pushing her away. This was cathartic and allowed me to accept her back into my life as just a friend. We began rebuilding our communication, spending more time together, and honestly grew closer than ever.
As time passed I became happy with myself, gained my old confidence back, and ended most of the self-destructive behavior, and through this, she was my best friend. I got myself out there and met other girls and I got my mind off of her completely. I found a balance with her in my life and I was happy.
This lasted until about a week ago. We were out drinking for a friend of ours birthday party and I jokingly said to her “Do you wanna get married?” after she came back from her car with her weed. She laughed and then told me, “40. If neither of us finds love by then let’s get married when we’re 40.” I’ve been thinking about what she said ever since, I even brought it up when we were sober and she confirmed that she was serious.
Since then I haven’t stopped thinking about how perfect my life would be if I could spend the rest of it with her at my side. I know I already tried to make it work and it didn’t, but she’s not going anywhere in my life. I keep telling myself that I got over these feelings, that I moved on and bettered myself, and that this road leads to nothing but more pain, but yet these feelings persist.
Part of me wants to fight for her, to find whatever the key to her heart is that no one else has found, and to care for her for as long as I can. The other part wants to run, to leave her in the past, to escape this eternal chase for her, and to give myself a chance to find someone who wants to be with me. My mind balances out somewhere in between right now, all I know is limbo is never a good place to be in, and that’s where I feel I am with her.
If you’ve read this far, thank you for taking the time to listen to my problems, it means more than you know.

A little while ago I compiled a list of some of the biggest upsets in men’s tennis since 2009 using betting odds. In this post, I’ve done something similar using elo rating. This is a list of the biggest upsets in men’s grand slam matches since 2009 according to the elo ratings of each player at the time. This data was gathered using the Ultimate Tennis Statistics database. More info on this can be found in my comment below.
An elo rating system is a method used for calculating the probability of one player beating another based on each player’s previous results, focusing more on who they have played rather than in what tournament or round they played in. For example, a player with an elo rating of 2050 will theoretically have about a 57% chance of beating a player with a rating of 2000, and someone rated 1800 will have about a 24% chance of beating someone rated 2000. If you want to play around with this, here is a simple tool that you can use: https://sandhoefner.github.io/chess.html. However, taking predictions based on elo rating as fact isn't always the best thing to do, as there are many constantly changing factors that can influence any particular match. This is exacerbated by the fact that the favourite to win is going to be even more likely to win in a best of 5 match compared to a best of 3 match. Therefore, I’m just going to put the raw elo values here and will leave it to you to make any conclusions that you want from it.
While no elo system is without its flaws, they are generally much more accurate than the ATP rankings, particularly if you use an elo system linked to the type of surface being played on. Because of this, I am using the surface-based historical UTS elo rankings. Listed below are the 10 highest elo rating differentials in grand slam matches since 2009 in which the lower rated player won. Keep in mind that this criteria doesn’t include every single player who has played in every slam in this period. I will get to this point a bit later.

1. 767 - Istomin (1798) d. Djokovic (2565) - 2R AO 2017
2. 660 - Stakhovsky (1804) d. Federer (2464) - 2R Wimbledon 2013
3. 555 - Millman (1908) d. Federer (2463) - 4R USO 2018
4. 552 - Soderling (2068) d. Nadal (2620) - 4R RG 2009
5. 541 - Chung (1945) d. Djokovic (2486) - 4R AO 2018
6. 537 - M. Zverev (1947) d. Murray (2484) - 4R AO 2017
7. 533 - Seppi (1932) d. Federer (2465) - 3R AO 2015
8. 526 - Pella (1812) d. Cilic (2338) - 2R Wimbledon 2018
9. 522 - Y. Lu (1748) d. Roddick (2270) - 4R Wimbledon 2010
10. 521 - Hurkacz (1852) d. Federer (2373) - QF Wimbledon 2021

In my opinion, this is the most accurate list I can provide with the data that I have. However, it isn’t perfect, as not every single player who played in these slams had an elo rating going into each of those tournaments.
In any elo system, certain players are not going to have a rating due to not having played/won enough matches at a high enough level. This may be because they haven’t been around at the highest level for long enough or because they haven’t played enough in recent times to maintain their spot. The starting value used by UTS is 1500, which is used as a rating for a player until they play enough matches to break into the actual rankings. As I wanted to consider every match that has been played, regardless of whether or not both players have a ‘defined’ elo ranking, my initial solution was to just give each of these players a rating of 1500.
The following is a list of the largest elo differentials in matches where a player without an elo rating defeated an opponent with an elo rating:

1. 838 - Rosol (1500) d. Nadal (2338) - 2R Wimbledon 2012
2. 741 - Isner (1500) d. Murray (2241) - 2R Wimbledon 2022
3. 712 - Kyrgios (1500) d. Nadal (2212) - 4R Wimbledon 2014
4. 693 - Evans (1500) d. Cilic (2193) - 2R AO 2017
5. 664 - Nishikori (1500) d. CIlic (2164) - 2R USO 2010
6. 654 - Holt (1500) d. Fritz (2154) - 1R USO 2022
7. 647 - Gaston (1500) d. Wawrinka (2147) - 3R RG 2020
8. 634 - Pouille (1500) d. Del Potro (2134) - 3R Wimbledon 2016
9. 631 - Monfils (1500) d. Gasquet (2131) RET - 3R RG 2017
10. 617 - Veic (1500) d. Davydenko (2117) - 2R RG 2011 617 - Nishioka (1500) d. Isner (2117) - 2R Wimbledon 2021

Another way I attempted to account for players without a ‘defined’ rating was to take the rating of the lowest rated player of the time on the relevant surface and subtract 1. For example, the player with the lowest elo rating on grass going into Wimbledon 2012 was Potito Starace with a rating of 1575, so I’ve given Rosol a rating of 1574. Essentially, this is the highest rating that these players could have possibly had, assuming these players’ skill sets were still attached to a number that hadn’t yet been found by the system. The ‘real’ difference in elo between these players and their higher rated opponent could only be equal to or greater than the amount listed below.
Perhaps this is an arbitrary way to do it, and that by this stage I’ve gone too far down the theoretical aspect of elo systems and further away from their practical use. However, elo systems are theoretical by nature and you’ve already made it this far into my essay so you might as well take a look at the results now that you’re here.
After we make the above changes, the top 10 looks like this:

1. 764 - Rosol (1574) d. Nadal (2338) - 2R Wimbledon 2012
2. 648 - Nishikori (1516) d. Cilic (2164) - 2R USO 2010
3. 628 - Isner (1613) d. Murray (2241) - 2R Wimbledon 2022
4. 622 - Evans (1571) d. Cilic (2193) - 2R AO 2017
5. 618 - Kyrgios (1594) d. Nadal (2212) - 4R Wimbledon 2014
6. 608 - Holt (1546) d. Fritz (2154) - 1R USO 2022
7. 591 - Pouille (1543) d. Del Potro (2134) - 3R Wimbledon 2016
8. 589 - Veic (1528) d. Davydenko (2117) - 2R RG 2011
9. 572 - Kubot (1517) d. Karlovic (2089) - 2R Wimbledon 2011
10. 567 - Monfils (1564) d. Gasquet (2131) RET - 3R RG 2017

As is sometimes the case with elo ratings, some of these look strange. John Isner not having a grass elo rating in 2022 does appear to be odd. This is at least in part related to the tournaments that were missed due to Covid, as there were a lot less players without a grass elo rating going into 2021 and 2022 Wimbledon (including Nadal in 2022, as he missed the entire 2021 grass court season). This would also be contributed to by a lack of tournaments played on grass in general in any season, which is an argument that could also be made when considering the overrepresentation of Wimbledon matches in these lists. I will also note that Monfils lost his clay elo rating shortly before 2017 RG as his last victory on clay before this tournament appears to be over a year earlier in 2016 Madrid. Despite these outliers, I think it is still an interesting list to look at.
If you have any questions about any of it feel free to ask. There was a lot of context and other information that I could have put in this post, however I left it out as it has already gotten much longer than what I originally intended. Also tell me if there is anything else similar to the content of this post that you would like to see - I have too much fun playing around with this stuff.

Will probably delete this later.
In so many words, she told me that she was over me. I hurt her so much. She doesn’t have the capacity to let herself get hurt by me again. I didn’t shower her with affection. I didn’t care for her when she was sick. I ruined vacations because I wasn’t in the moment all the time. That’s my fault.
I don’t know what else to say. So I’ll share some final thoughts that I want her to know:
I know I hurt you. I know it took too long for me to realize this. You value your life and your time, and so do I.
I also want you to know you hurt me, too. The first time we broke up. You went away to another continent for a year, and moved away from me to live with your sister for almost a year before that. Not including me in your future plans when all I had known from you was love. I was messed up. I felt betrayed, and I felt abandoned. When you came back, I was absolutely not over you. The fact that I had to get your sister and your friend to “agree to be roommates with me” added to that pain. It made me feel like you getting back with me was not your choice, but it was their choice. It made me feel like you were just trying me out. And that I would be discarded again if I wasn’t perfect. Impossible.
Even though living in the same house with your sister, your mom, your friend, and your dad was not what I had pictured for “us getting back together”, I wasn’t in a position to refuse, was I? I care about you so much, I missed you so much, I love you so much, I didn’t second guess anything. I didn’t take time to think about how that would affect me. I’d do it again too, because I don’t just love you, I adore you.
But I can’t help but feel like if that was my “second chance with you”, it wasn’t a fair chance. Not fair to me. I wasn’t ready for all that. I was in a place where it felt like nothing was just “ours”. It was everyone else’s and I was just a guest. And while I see your family as an extension of you, and I’ll always treat them with love and respect, selfishly - I was waiting for the chance for us to be together in our own home. A chance it seems I’ll never get. I know I hurt you, but I also know I don’t deserve just “my shelf” in your life. Then, I didn’t see you anymore. I saw you so infrequently, that I hated my place in that house. I was suddenly living with your family and not you, and I was just a roommate to them. Your dad and your sister were friendly and obviously tried to comfort me because they could see I was suffering there without you. And while I was suffering, I still did right by them. When they needed a car, I delivered. When they needed a ride, I delivered. When they wanted someone to talk to, I delivered. I never gave them a hard time, I never hesitated. I showed them the same love I tried to show you.
I stopped caring for your plants because I wanted you to confront the amount of time that was passing. We started to fight way more often. We started to drift apart again. You were bringing up some incredibly hurtful jokes. Like what my “next girlfriend” was going to be like. That hurt me so much. It told me you were already picturing your life without me. Again! That I didn’t even have a damn shelf anymore and I’d be gone by trash day.
The other things seem so small by comparison, but hurt me and added to my insecurities nonetheless. You never shared pictures of me online. Ever. I never distrusted you for that, but I couldn’t help but feel like you were ashamed of me. It felt like you were hiding me from some people. Who? No idea. I thought I knew everyone you were close to. So I didn’t get it.
I had pictures of you for all my family to see. Pictures of us. Speaking of family, yours was always so hidden from me. I opened mine as wide as possible to you. I was proud to tell everyone: this is the woman I love. This is the woman I want you all to meet because I know you will love her as much as I do.
By comparison, I met yours one time, in a place where I wasn’t able to get to know them, since your uncle just had a baby. It meant a lot to me to have the chance to introduce myself and prove to them, that mean so much to you, that not only do I care about you, but that they can have confidence you made the right decision in me.
I know this year has been difficult, to say the least. I can’t imagine what you and your best friend had to go through. Fuck Cancer. Seeing her like that, seeing how her boyfriend was mistreating her. I understand. I would do the same thing for my best friend. If it was mine in that chair, I would have offered my unyielding faith, and we might have ended up living together for a time.
So I’m sorry for ruining vacations. I’m sorry for not showering you with love. I’m sorry for hurting you so deeply and so often. I was hurting too. In my eyes, you were an angel, sent to love me. But you were not blameless either.
So while I really am sorry about everything, there’s nothing I can do to change the past. What I can do, is try to move on, having learned and grown from my experience with you. If that’s with you, then you’ll see for yourself what I’ve learned and how I’ve grown. If it’s not with you, then you will not. I don’t know how else to express my regret. I also can’t keep apologizing.
I’m willing to do anything, fight everything to have you back. But I would ask the same of you too. I don’t view relationships as 50/50 anymore. The sum of two halves becoming a whole. They should be 100/100. You get 100% of me. My effort. My love. My admiration. I will serve you with 100% of my dedication. I would ask the same of you.
You don’t want to get hurt again, well, neither do I. But I won’t take a half measure or compromise. I want 100% of you. If that’s not enough, then we were never going to make it even if we did listen to each other. And communicate better with each other. There were many times I’m sure we can both point out where neither of us were giving ourselves totally to the other.
Goodbye, my friend. Your impact on my life cannot be overstated. I’m a much better person for having known you. You’ve taught me so many things and I’m so profoundly grateful. I’m also so proud of you. We were just babies when we first got together, and now look at us. You’re an amazing person and I really hope you find someone that can appreciate you the way I could not. I’ll love you always.
Love, The short sappy boy

With the car stopped in drive or reverse, the rpm drops, car shakes, and almost stalls (sometimes does stalls on a cold night) if I turn the steering wheel. I read the problem is either the IACV or the power steering sensor. However, this issue does not happen when the car is in park or neutral where it continues to idle just fine. Does that help single out the problem part at all?

I never understood my brothers until now. They've always said she would get mad at people randomly and or ignore you.
I'm 12. Amd recently my mom has been mad at me for no reason at all! I do my chores, I have a good social life, I'm kind and respectful, and I work hard in school. She's been ignoring me and acting very distant, and refuses to talk to me. And earlier today I had a conference meeting at my school that I was in charge of, while we were infront of my teachers she acted very loving and supportive but as soon as we left she became cold again. I have gone out of my way to interact with her but she tells me to go away. All of this has been causing me to overthink and randomly cry. There is little to no food at my house and I'm starving but too scared to tell her or else she will get mad. What do I do!? All of my brothers said she can't except she is wrong and that she will randomly get mad and be mean for no reason, but I'm only 12! She shouldn't be shutting out her preteen should she? I'm used to taking care of myself anyway, but not like this. Not to the point where I practically live alone and have no connection with my mom. It's only been going on for 3 days so I'll update later.

I (25F) live with my boyfriend (26M) and our housemate (28F). My housemate is my best friend and she recently came out to us as being in a poly relationship. She met this couple online a few months ago that she is now in a relationship with. They live about 4 hours away. They came and stayed the weekend at our house and my boyfriend expressed to me that he was uncomfortable with them being there. I sorta brushed it off at first because I didn’t think he was serious. My housemate was going to be at work one of the days that they were at our house and they were going to find something to do in town. My boyfriend asked me what I was going to do that day and I told him that I just planned to go to the gym.(I genuinely thought he was just asking about my plans because he was curious not because he was concerned. Sometimes I don’t get social cues and need to be told exactly what someone means.) The couple ended up going to the gym with me, without my housemate because she was working. My boyfriend texted me while he was at work and we were at the gym and asked what I was up to, so I told him. He was very upset with me after that. He later expressed concerns about them being strangers and he was worried for my safety. He also expressed concerns about being afraid that they would make a move on me. He sat me down and explained how uncomfortable it made him that they stayed here. He said he doesn’t mind them coming over to hangout but he wants me to have a talk with our housemate about them staying somewhere else when they come to visit. He made sure to tell me it wasn’t a demand but he would most likely stay somewhere else when they stayed at our house. I agreed to talk to my friend(our housemate) but later realized that it wasn’t fair of me to ask her to not have people stay over. Even though I do own the house, she does pay rent. She is my friend but, technically I am also her landlord. I fear it may seem like discrimination against her and her relationship but I also want to respect my boyfriend and his concerns. I need advice. I’m not sure what to do.

Hi everyone, im a 18 y/o from Canada that plays a variety of games, which is limited to anything that is suggested by chat. I wish to grow my community further which is the meaning of this post. Im above average at most FPS games ranking in the top 10% of all games I have played- Overwatch(1&2), Csgo, Valorant, Apex etc... I also play solo games such as Resident Evil, Dark Souls, Stardew Valley, even achieving 100% on Sekiro and Elden Ring. I stream almost everyday for a minimum of 5 hours(12pm-5pm Est most days) and im planning on starting a YT channel soon where I will edit down the streams into short form content, im also planning on posting my highlights on reddit in an attempt to create more viewership. does anyone have any pointers or tips for a beginner like me i have the drive and time to create amazing content I just dont know how to get started. Thanks

In some other sub topic I said that some ex CIA said that the CIA used to be siloed by a firewall between ops and analysts up to pretty high. Not now where ops runs the whole show and analysts deliver what ops want. Not my original words. There was push pack on that, as it was only a couple of people. I did expect that in a Chomsky sub. So I made some more empirical post as to why this might be the case. I expect most here already know this stuff. The push back was a reasonable response.
US whistle blowers retaliations
William Binney. NSA analyst developed earlier cheap system to predict terror attacks and congress learned of it. That was embarrassing and threatened the NSA grift. They raided his house. He says he is only a free main because he knows where the NSA bodies are buried. The doc A Good American is worth the fee. The character played by Nicholas Cage in the Oliver Stone movie Snowden is based on Binney.
Diane Roark, long time congressional aide, was in the shower when the feds raided her house. She was likely protected by Binney. She later speeches.
https://youtu.be/XZxsmxHEBK0
https://youtu.be/RhfqOo1LGvo
https://youtu.be/AMIrmt9sZyY
https://youtu.be/r9-3K3rkPRE
​
Ray McGovern is an outspoken CIA vet and whistleblower. Frequent guest on alt media.
https://youtu.be/upOsDrs2E7A
Scott Ritter said he would quit his UN(?) weapons inspection job noisily. He either would not spy for US or would not lie about WMDs. I cannot remember. The day he quit some friendly fed told him if he quit the feds would come after him. He quit, the next day he saw his face on TV, under indictment for espionage for Israelis. Feds win 99% of cases. They lost this one but the process is the punishment.
Later, Ritter apparently had some kinky internet habit. Maybe chat and/or web cam. Think it’s not a crime? Some how, a LOCAL detective learned of it, pretended to be underage, and Ritter did something over the internet. Convicted locally. Does not sound legal to me. No local meetup I know of. What crime? More important, how would a local cop learn about this? IMO illegal fed surveillance + “parallel construction.” Look it up or watch The Good Wife episode of the name. Funny.
https://youtu.be/peo5b63jjtM
Recently Matt Taibbi testified in front of congress about his analysis of the twitter files. The same day some IRS agents visited his home. That sends a message doesn’t it?

John Kiriakou: The ex-CIA officer turned whistle-blower. After he blew the whistle on US torture, Obama admin filed charges, convicted on lesser charges, sentence to 30 years served two. He said the IRS audited him 10/10 years.

Assange. This non US citizen was accused of breaking US law while not in the US, then essentially grabbed in another country and faces extradition to the US.

Now, how many here want to be a fed whistleblower? How many in CIA.

Here are some video links.

For years, the three whistle-blowers had told anyone who would listen that the NSA collects huge swaths of communications data from U.S. citizens. They had spent decades in the top ranks of the agency, designing and managing the very data-collection systems they say have been turned against Americans. When they became convinced that fundamental constitutional rights were being violated, they complained first to their superiors, then to federal investigators, congressional oversight committees and, finally, to the news media.
To the intelligence community, the trio are villains who compromised what the government classifies as some of its most secret, crucial and successful initiatives. They have been investigated as criminals and forced to give up careers, reputations and friendships built over a lifetime.
William Binney, Diane Roark & Ray McGovern Set for Talkback After A GOOD AMERICAN Screening at Symphony Space

The art of playing the harpsichord requires a delicate touch and precise technique. To achieve the best possible sound, a player must pay attention to a variety of factors, from the placement of their fingers to the way they sit at the instrument. In this essay, we will explore the essential elements of playing the harpsichord.
First and foremost, a player's hands must be light and supple. They should avoid using too much finger tip, as this can cause them to play with their nails instead of their fingertips. On the other hand, if they use too little tip, the harpsichord will not possess enough space. Additionally, the knuckles must be slightly higher than the wrist for optimal playability.
Playing a black note on the harpsichord differs from playing one on the piano. Most of the time, a player will need to play near the edge of the key, as they do not have the same balance of power as they do on a piano. When multiple chords are present together, some arm weight is necessary as long as the player does not hear the wood or get tense.
In terms of hand placement, a harpsichord player must have their hands over the keys. Unlike on a piano, they do not need to constantly move for the connection from the arm to the fingers. This is because harpsichord keys are light. The touch required to play the harpsichord is a sensation of the finger slightly falling from the knuckle, rather than striking the key. It is akin to pressing a button.
When it comes to sitting at the harpsichord, the player must position themselves at a distance where the middle of their knee reaches under the instrument. The height should be such that their elbow aligns with the wrist and does not droop downwards or upwards. The thumb should be used sparingly when playing black notes, and when playing block stretches, it should be disconnected from the hand. This allows for a nice and relaxed position with no bending sideways.
Alignment is also essential for proper harpsichord playing. The third finger must be in a straight line with the forearm, which allows for a nice and relaxed position with no bending sideways. The hand must be contracted like a cat's paw, with the fingers feeling tight but not tense. This is important because not contracting will make the fingers unstable. Additionally, players should always have a relaxed palm.
When jumping on the harpsichord, the player should only move the forearm and not the upper arm. They must also ensure that their elbow does not tense. The elbow, along with the entire body, must remain relaxed.
In conclusion, playing the harpsichord requires a unique set of skills and techniques. From hand placement to finger alignment, every aspect of playing this instrument must be carefully considered. By following the guidelines outlined in this essay, aspiring harpsichord players can achieve the best possible sound and enjoy the beauty of this unique instrument.

​
The fire crackled merrily as Glimmer lay stretched out before it. The dancing flames made her skin twinkle, which was how she had gotten her name from Grandpa, and the dazzle sent diamonds onto the ceiling. I had stopped in the doorway to the living room to watch her as she sparkled, and she grinned impishly when she noticed me.
"Is that milk water for me, handsome?" She asked, and it occurred to me then how young she seemed. She was like a girl in her early twenties in both appearance and mannerisms. I wondered not for the first time if she would be that way when I was grandpa's age?
She patted the fireplace as she sat up, inviting me to sit with her, and I brought the hot cocoa to her as I leaned back against the rough stone fireplace. Grandpa was sitting in his favorite chair, watching the two of us with a knowing smile. I appreciated him for that more than he would ever know. It would've been easy for him to be hurt, but he always seemed to take the closeness of Glimmer and I as just one of life's little blessings.
The widow had been very happy to have her cat back, and she thanked us all for finding him so quickly.
"He's a silly old thing, but he's all I've got left, and I'm quite fond of him. I'm glad he didn't wander off in the snow and get himself frozen to death."
She had excused herself pretty quickly, telling grandpa it looked like he was entertaining. She gave me a wink that I'm not sure I understood, and as she drove carefully down the driveway, grandpa waved at her from the porch. The three of us settled in and got ready for Glimmer to begin her story, the fire the only light in the room.
Glimmer took a sip of her hot cocoa and made an appreciative noise as the warmth fell over her.
"That's good. We don't have anything quite that good in the woods."
"Are you telling me that your civilization has existed since before settlers came from England, but you haven't figured out hot cocoa yet?" I asked with a little laugh.
Glimmer gave me a withering look but spoiled it by winking at me, "We have sweets, of course. Just nothing quite this frivolous exists in our world. We have more immediate concerns, like survival."
"And cats, apparently," I added.
Glimmer nodded, taking another sip of her cocoa, "Yes, and cats."
"Wait," grandpa said, "when I made you the wooden cat, you didn't seem so surprised."
"Well, I had seen wild cats before," Glimmer said a little tartly, "They run everywhere in the forest. But this cat was different. He was so strange that I didn't immediately realize he was akin to the felines I knew."
She closed her eyes, and as the smoke wafted into her face, I could tell she was time-traveling back to her girlhood days. Grandpa got that same look when he thought about the past, and I suppose it was universal. Glimmer was content to let the steam caress her for a few moments, beginning her story without much warning.
This was the time after Fisher's leaving. He had come to see me before he left and told me that he was going to fight in a war. I knew of wars, though I had never fought in one. He said he would be gone for a long time but that he hoped he would see me again. I didn't really understand, but I was upset at the thought of losing him. We had become close, and I didn't want to say goodbye. He told me this was something he had to do, but I didn't want to hear it. I told him to just go, that I didn't care if he came back or not, and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears I was trying to hold back.
When he said nothing, I turned back to find that I wasn't the only one failing to hold in my sorrow.
I was used to seeing Fisher sad, but he had seemed different after his encounter with The Bone Collector. He told me this was a thing he had to do and that getting away from the mountains for a while would be good for him. He wanted to see the world and grow into someone who could protect others. I refused to listen to his excuses, though. I was young and spirited, and if he was going to leave, I told him to just go ahead and go.
So we parted ways.
I never knew if his sadness was as deep as mine, but it was several days before I was fit for much beyond moody turns.
Life went on, though, despite his absence, and many weeks later, I found myself in the woods again.
Now, you may find it odd that I had never seen a cat before, but my people usually stay in the deep woods. I am considered an oddity because I will go so close to human places. In those days, I would not even go that far. Fisher had always come to visit me near the borders of my world and his, and without him to visit, I hadn't been anywhere near the humans in ages. On this particular day, I was supposed to be gathering herbs for medicine, so my mother could cure some of our people who had become ill. I had collected quite a few herbs, but when I found that I was close to the border again, I got a bit reminiscent of the times I had spent with Fisher.
So I decided to go and have a look at some of the other people that lived in the area.
I didn't know any of them, but Fisher had talked about some of them. His parents, his grandmother that had passed on, some of his neighbors, and of the friends he often went out with who I knew had been killed by the Strange Lights. I wasn't afraid of being seen by any of them. I could move as gracefully through the woods as any deer, and I had hidden from humans before. So I took my sack and bow and decided to see what I could see.
I was hopeful at the start, but it was not the grand adventure I thought it would. I saw human signs, old fires, and the waste they sometimes leave behind, but I encountered no people. I followed a trail to Fisher's old house, but I couldn't bring myself to get close. I missed him terribly, and the thought of seeing something that would remind me of him made me sad. I had turned around, preparing to head home again, when the strangest little creature stood in my path.
His fur was the color of a campfire, interspersed with dark browns and dots of gray. His ears had a distinctly chewed look, and his paws were large and very furry. He held a magnificent tail behind him, and he had come up on me without a sound. I was startled at first, drawing my bow and challenging him, but he meowed good-naturedly and cocked his head as if to ask what I was doing?
We stood there for several seconds, but when it became apparent that he meant me no harm, I put my weapon away and bent down to touch him. He was very soft, not bristly, like some of the other cats in the woods. He was a little muddy, but it was clear that someone was taking great care of him. He was well-fed, fatter than any cat I had ever seen, and he showed none of the hesitancy around me that many of the forest creatures did. I sat and let him butt his head against my hand. My other hand glided along his silky fur, and when he came to sit in my lap, I giggled as he rumbled against my stomach.
When I heard the sound of people returning to Fisher's old house, I realized I had been sitting there for a while.
I had become enchanted with this little beastie, and as he walked back into the woods, I followed him eagerly.
We spent the night in the forest, hunting mice and playing with the leaves and sticks that caught his attention. As the night went on, I became quite enamored with the little animal, and the more time we spent together, the better I felt about Fisher leaving. We were cuddling in the bows of a tree when the first fingers of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. I realized I had been out all night with him, and when I picked him up and headed for home, I had every intention of taking him with me.
As we walked back through the woods, I was confident that no one in my enclave would've seen anything like this before. Some of them had cats, but nothing as grand as this one. One of my cousins had a beautiful spotted cat, and my older sister had a white one with red eyes, but their hair was short and coarse and nowhere near as luxurious as this fellow. I smiled to myself as I thought of the jealousy on their faces when they saw him. Once mother had touched his silky fur, there would be no way she could turn it away. He would sleep next to my head at night, and I would drift off listening to the deep rumble of his purr.
I was so involved with my daydream that I almost missed when he wiggled out of my arms.
He had been riding along calmly until that point, purring against my side as the two of us walked. He looked back the way we could come and made that strange meow sound again. I was perplexed. Did he have a mate he needed to get back to? He started to walk away, but I picked him up again and tried to continue walking home. He wiggled out of my hands again, though, and glanced back at me with remorse as he shook his little head.
"What's wrong?" I asked, "Don't you want to come home with me?"
In response, he started to walk off again.
I took a step towards him but stopped myself before I could grab him up again. I turned around instead and headed for home, a little angry as I crunched through the underbrush. If he didn't want to come back with me, then so be it. I wouldn't force him, and the farther I got, the madder I became. Who cared if he didn't want to come back with me? I didn't need him. I had been fine before him, and I would be fine again.
Let him wander off into the woods if that's what he wanted to do.
Let him run afoul of a big mean coyote or a hungry owl or…or one of the bigger wild cats….or a snake…or….or
I wiped my eyes as they started to leak.
The anger leaked out with them, and soon I was making my way back the way I had come.
In my mind, I could already see him at the mercy of one of the coyote packs in the area or carried away by a hawk. He was a big fella but wouldn't stand a chance against a pack of dogs. I wouldn't find him in time, I thought, or I would find him too late, or I would find nothing but a smear of blood and some of that gorgeous fur stuck in the pool. I swiped at my eyes as the tears kept coming, already sure he was lost.
The sky was pinkening, true dawn still hours away, and when I heard him meow, I turned to find him cocking his head at me again.
I laughed, scooping him into my arms and hugging him, and he wiggled and meowed in confusion.
When I put him down again, he started walking the way we had come, and this time I followed him.
I could see the light beginning to intrude on the dark world, but I didn't mind. Some members of my race cannot stand the light, but I have learned to love it. It stings my eyes and makes my skin burn a little, but I try to spend some time each day in the sun, knowing that my friends are part of that lighted world. That thin line on the horizon would have been enough to send both my parents scuttling back to the depths of the enclave, but I followed my new friend evenly as he made his way. I expected I would find a little burrow of beasties like him, perhaps even some little ones with a mate who would be worried, but as we got closer to the edges of humanity, I realized where he was heading.
When we came to the edge of his home, the lights already on in the big house, he looked back at me much the same way I had looked at him on the border to my world.
"What? Don't you want to come home with me?" that look said, but I shook my head at him.
"No, this is where we must part ways, little friend."
He came back, butting up against my leg and giving me another rub of his silky fur, and then he trotted off for home, bounding up the back porch steps as he sat patiently at the door.
I had turned to leave, the dawn very close now, when a high and excited voice found its way to my ear.
"Clarence! You came back!"
I peeked through the trees and saw a little girl pulling him into her arms. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine, and as she rubbed her face against the cats, I realized this had been where he was returning to. She was his family, she was the one he had been trying to get back to, and I felt a little guilty for trying to keep him. He had a home already, and my ownership of him had been an act of theft.
"I told mommy you would come back. I'm sorry I put you outside yesterday while I was trying to nap. I won't do it again. Come on, let's get you some breakfast. Then we can brush you and get you," but their plans were cut off by the closing door, and as the day began, I slipped back into the woods and made my way home as well.
The fire crackled as she finished, and I saw a tear roll down her cheek as she remembered that day.
"I think, in a way, that was how I said goodbye to you as well, Fisher."
Grandpa smiled, "To me?"
Glimmer nodded, "You were never mine to keep, either. I felt hurt when you left, though I didn't admit it. You were gone, and I thought I could simply exist without you. Watching that cat go, realizing that it might get hurt and feeling hurt that it wouldn't stay, made me remember how you had left as well. I needed to come to terms with that, which helped a lot."
We all sat silently for a while, Glimmer putting her head on my shoulder as the fire crackled merrily behind us.
When Grandpa chuckled suddenly, I looked up and saw Glimmer cock a sardonic eye at him, "I had to get a cat out of the widow's house once. She didn't know it was a cat, of course. She thought it was a haint that had taken up residence in her attic. So there I am, prepared to do battle with a dark spirit, and when I step into the attic, I find myself face to face with a highly upset bobcat."
Glimmer's hand slipped into mine as the two of us listened and laughed as Grandpa unfurled his tale of a spirited wild animal and a surprised Grandpa. We sat by the fire as the snow came down, and the fire warmed our bones. I could feel Glimmer's warm, comfortable weight as she leaned against me, and as Grandpa unveiled his tale, I smiled, enjoying these small blessings as they came.

​
The fire crackled merrily as Glimmer lay stretched out before it. The dancing flames made her skin twinkle, which was how she had gotten her name from Grandpa, and the dazzle sent diamonds onto the ceiling. I had stopped in the doorway to the living room to watch her as she sparkled, and she grinned impishly when she noticed me.
"Is that milk water for me, handsome?" She asked, and it occurred to me then how young she seemed. She was like a girl in her early twenties in both appearance and mannerisms. I wondered not for the first time if she would be that way when I was grandpa's age?
She patted the fireplace as she sat up, inviting me to sit with her, and I brought the hot cocoa to her as I leaned back against the rough stone fireplace. Grandpa was sitting in his favorite chair, watching the two of us with a knowing smile. I appreciated him for that more than he would ever know. It would've been easy for him to be hurt, but he always seemed to take the closeness of Glimmer and I as just one of life's little blessings.
The widow had been very happy to have her cat back, and she thanked us all for finding him so quickly.
"He's a silly old thing, but he's all I've got left, and I'm quite fond of him. I'm glad he didn't wander off in the snow and get himself frozen to death."
She had excused herself pretty quickly, telling grandpa it looked like he was entertaining. She gave me a wink that I'm not sure I understood, and as she drove carefully down the driveway, grandpa waved at her from the porch. The three of us settled in and got ready for Glimmer to begin her story, the fire the only light in the room.
Glimmer took a sip of her hot cocoa and made an appreciative noise as the warmth fell over her.
"That's good. We don't have anything quite that good in the woods."
"Are you telling me that your civilization has existed since before settlers came from England, but you haven't figured out hot cocoa yet?" I asked with a little laugh.
Glimmer gave me a withering look but spoiled it by winking at me, "We have sweets, of course. Just nothing quite this frivolous exists in our world. We have more immediate concerns, like survival."
"And cats, apparently," I added.
Glimmer nodded, taking another sip of her cocoa, "Yes, and cats."
"Wait," grandpa said, "when I made you the wooden cat, you didn't seem so surprised."
"Well, I had seen wild cats before," Glimmer said a little tartly, "They run everywhere in the forest. But this cat was different. He was so strange that I didn't immediately realize he was akin to the felines I knew."
She closed her eyes, and as the smoke wafted into her face, I could tell she was time-traveling back to her girlhood days. Grandpa got that same look when he thought about the past, and I suppose it was universal. Glimmer was content to let the steam caress her for a few moments, beginning her story without much warning.
This was the time after Fisher's leaving. He had come to see me before he left and told me that he was going to fight in a war. I knew of wars, though I had never fought in one. He said he would be gone for a long time but that he hoped he would see me again. I didn't really understand, but I was upset at the thought of losing him. We had become close, and I didn't want to say goodbye. He told me this was something he had to do, but I didn't want to hear it. I told him to just go, that I didn't care if he came back or not, and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears I was trying to hold back.
When he said nothing, I turned back to find that I wasn't the only one failing to hold in my sorrow.
I was used to seeing Fisher sad, but he had seemed different after his encounter with The Bone Collector. He told me this was a thing he had to do and that getting away from the mountains for a while would be good for him. He wanted to see the world and grow into someone who could protect others. I refused to listen to his excuses, though. I was young and spirited, and if he was going to leave, I told him to just go ahead and go.
So we parted ways.
I never knew if his sadness was as deep as mine, but it was several days before I was fit for much beyond moody turns.
Life went on, though, despite his absence, and many weeks later, I found myself in the woods again.
Now, you may find it odd that I had never seen a cat before, but my people usually stay in the deep woods. I am considered an oddity because I will go so close to human places. In those days, I would not even go that far. Fisher had always come to visit me near the borders of my world and his, and without him to visit, I hadn't been anywhere near the humans in ages. On this particular day, I was supposed to be gathering herbs for medicine, so my mother could cure some of our people who had become ill. I had collected quite a few herbs, but when I found that I was close to the border again, I got a bit reminiscent of the times I had spent with Fisher.
So I decided to go and have a look at some of the other people that lived in the area.
I didn't know any of them, but Fisher had talked about some of them. His parents, his grandmother that had passed on, some of his neighbors, and of the friends he often went out with who I knew had been killed by the Strange Lights. I wasn't afraid of being seen by any of them. I could move as gracefully through the woods as any deer, and I had hidden from humans before. So I took my sack and bow and decided to see what I could see.
I was hopeful at the start, but it was not the grand adventure I thought it would. I saw human signs, old fires, and the waste they sometimes leave behind, but I encountered no people. I followed a trail to Fisher's old house, but I couldn't bring myself to get close. I missed him terribly, and the thought of seeing something that would remind me of him made me sad. I had turned around, preparing to head home again, when the strangest little creature stood in my path.
His fur was the color of a campfire, interspersed with dark browns and dots of gray. His ears had a distinctly chewed look, and his paws were large and very furry. He held a magnificent tail behind him, and he had come up on me without a sound. I was startled at first, drawing my bow and challenging him, but he meowed good-naturedly and cocked his head as if to ask what I was doing?
We stood there for several seconds, but when it became apparent that he meant me no harm, I put my weapon away and bent down to touch him. He was very soft, not bristly, like some of the other cats in the woods. He was a little muddy, but it was clear that someone was taking great care of him. He was well-fed, fatter than any cat I had ever seen, and he showed none of the hesitancy around me that many of the forest creatures did. I sat and let him butt his head against my hand. My other hand glided along his silky fur, and when he came to sit in my lap, I giggled as he rumbled against my stomach.
When I heard the sound of people returning to Fisher's old house, I realized I had been sitting there for a while.
I had become enchanted with this little beastie, and as he walked back into the woods, I followed him eagerly.
We spent the night in the forest, hunting mice and playing with the leaves and sticks that caught his attention. As the night went on, I became quite enamored with the little animal, and the more time we spent together, the better I felt about Fisher leaving. We were cuddling in the bows of a tree when the first fingers of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. I realized I had been out all night with him, and when I picked him up and headed for home, I had every intention of taking him with me.
As we walked back through the woods, I was confident that no one in my enclave would've seen anything like this before. Some of them had cats, but nothing as grand as this one. One of my cousins had a beautiful spotted cat, and my older sister had a white one with red eyes, but their hair was short and coarse and nowhere near as luxurious as this fellow. I smiled to myself as I thought of the jealousy on their faces when they saw him. Once mother had touched his silky fur, there would be no way she could turn it away. He would sleep next to my head at night, and I would drift off listening to the deep rumble of his purr.
I was so involved with my daydream that I almost missed when he wiggled out of my arms.
He had been riding along calmly until that point, purring against my side as the two of us walked. He looked back the way we could come and made that strange meow sound again. I was perplexed. Did he have a mate he needed to get back to? He started to walk away, but I picked him up again and tried to continue walking home. He wiggled out of my hands again, though, and glanced back at me with remorse as he shook his little head.
"What's wrong?" I asked, "Don't you want to come home with me?"
In response, he started to walk off again.
I took a step towards him but stopped myself before I could grab him up again. I turned around instead and headed for home, a little angry as I crunched through the underbrush. If he didn't want to come back with me, then so be it. I wouldn't force him, and the farther I got, the madder I became. Who cared if he didn't want to come back with me? I didn't need him. I had been fine before him, and I would be fine again.
Let him wander off into the woods if that's what he wanted to do.
Let him run afoul of a big mean coyote or a hungry owl or…or one of the bigger wild cats….or a snake…or….or
I wiped my eyes as they started to leak.
The anger leaked out with them, and soon I was making my way back the way I had come.
In my mind, I could already see him at the mercy of one of the coyote packs in the area or carried away by a hawk. He was a big fella but wouldn't stand a chance against a pack of dogs. I wouldn't find him in time, I thought, or I would find him too late, or I would find nothing but a smear of blood and some of that gorgeous fur stuck in the pool. I swiped at my eyes as the tears kept coming, already sure he was lost.
The sky was pinkening, true dawn still hours away, and when I heard him meow, I turned to find him cocking his head at me again.
I laughed, scooping him into my arms and hugging him, and he wiggled and meowed in confusion.
When I put him down again, he started walking the way we had come, and this time I followed him.
I could see the light beginning to intrude on the dark world, but I didn't mind. Some members of my race cannot stand the light, but I have learned to love it. It stings my eyes and makes my skin burn a little, but I try to spend some time each day in the sun, knowing that my friends are part of that lighted world. That thin line on the horizon would have been enough to send both my parents scuttling back to the depths of the enclave, but I followed my new friend evenly as he made his way. I expected I would find a little burrow of beasties like him, perhaps even some little ones with a mate who would be worried, but as we got closer to the edges of humanity, I realized where he was heading.
When we came to the edge of his home, the lights already on in the big house, he looked back at me much the same way I had looked at him on the border to my world.
"What? Don't you want to come home with me?" that look said, but I shook my head at him.
"No, this is where we must part ways, little friend."
He came back, butting up against my leg and giving me another rub of his silky fur, and then he trotted off for home, bounding up the back porch steps as he sat patiently at the door.
I had turned to leave, the dawn very close now, when a high and excited voice found its way to my ear.
"Clarence! You came back!"
I peeked through the trees and saw a little girl pulling him into her arms. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine, and as she rubbed her face against the cats, I realized this had been where he was returning to. She was his family, she was the one he had been trying to get back to, and I felt a little guilty for trying to keep him. He had a home already, and my ownership of him had been an act of theft.
"I told mommy you would come back. I'm sorry I put you outside yesterday while I was trying to nap. I won't do it again. Come on, let's get you some breakfast. Then we can brush you and get you," but their plans were cut off by the closing door, and as the day began, I slipped back into the woods and made my way home as well.
The fire crackled as she finished, and I saw a tear roll down her cheek as she remembered that day.
"I think, in a way, that was how I said goodbye to you as well, Fisher."
Grandpa smiled, "To me?"
Glimmer nodded, "You were never mine to keep, either. I felt hurt when you left, though I didn't admit it. You were gone, and I thought I could simply exist without you. Watching that cat go, realizing that it might get hurt and feeling hurt that it wouldn't stay, made me remember how you had left as well. I needed to come to terms with that, which helped a lot."
We all sat silently for a while, Glimmer putting her head on my shoulder as the fire crackled merrily behind us.
When Grandpa chuckled suddenly, I looked up and saw Glimmer cock a sardonic eye at him, "I had to get a cat out of the widow's house once. She didn't know it was a cat, of course. She thought it was a haint that had taken up residence in her attic. So there I am, prepared to do battle with a dark spirit, and when I step into the attic, I find myself face to face with a highly upset bobcat."
Glimmer's hand slipped into mine as the two of us listened and laughed as Grandpa unfurled his tale of a spirited wild animal and a surprised Grandpa. We sat by the fire as the snow came down, and the fire warmed our bones. I could feel Glimmer's warm, comfortable weight as she leaned against me, and as Grandpa unveiled his tale, I smiled, enjoying these small blessings as they came.

Does anyone know where I can get a (fake) bulletproof vest and handgun in Edmonton? Budget is <$100 total for both items. Thanks!

Where should I live at if I am moving here from Florida? I can match anyone's vibe and be a decent roommate.

I 26F have been dating my boyfriend 33M for almost a year now. Our relationship has been nearing a stale mate for the past few months, but neither of us have ended it yet. He is a bartender working to be a touring musician with a band, and I am working an 8-5 office job. I knew this going in, but he said he had kids and was trying to get serious and settle down. He said he was wanting to get past going out all the time and focus on his career. I like going out on Fridays / Saturdays so I didn’t foresee it being too big of an issue if he went out a little more than that. I didn’t know anything was wrong until I moved in. I realized that when he goes out, he potentially doesn’t come home until the morning or afternoon later. I know most people would say he is cheating, but I do at least believe he is not doing that. I opened up to him and said that I don’t really like him staying out all hours of the night like that, especially considering that he is eventually going to bring the added responsibility of kids into the relationship.
He really broke his habit of doing that and said that has been his way of doing things for years now and it is a hard habit to break. The newest issue is that when he goes out, he feels as though he needs to give me a time to come home that is fairly early. If we had dinner plan at the house or if it is last minute plans, I will ask him if he plans on coming home around the evening, and he will always say yes. These times leave me waiting around for him and planning my afternoon around being with him later. He then has some new excuse every time on why he has to push the time back by an hour or two. He will then continue this until either I fall asleep or until he decides to come home. I have told him multiple times that I don’t mind him hanging out with friends, but I did not like when he would go to random after parties and stay out all night (due to it making him sluggish and grumpy multiple days while he recovers) and I did not like him continuously pushing back the time. I would rather him just apologize for bailing or just say he really wants to hangout with his friends than have me trying to trust his time commitment he gave. He said it was because he does not want to disappoint me, but I think it may be that he does not want to admit that he doesn’t have a good handle on himself and his priorities. I know that is an assumption (one that I would not want to throw on him), but the whole point that this boils down to is the following.
I have tried being open and saying that I feel as though I am not a priority. I feel the most secure in a relationship with words or actions of affirmation. I told him that I appreciate he doesn’t stay out all night anymore, and I don’t need him to constantly stay at home, but that it would mean a lot if he was staying out all night still or pushing off our plans for the bar if he could take some time to do something nice for me so that I see in my best love language that he cares. He said he understands but goes back to how he has come a long way and I am asking him to do something that is very hard for him. I feel like I am compromising and trying to understand him a lot, but I feel like he can’t make the sacrifice to be a little extra sensitive when he does something he knows upsets me. It makes me feel taken advantage of even though I do know he has at least the respect for me he is capable of. I am not trying to make this work if I am the only one willing to adapt a bit to what he needs. At this point I just want some perspectives of where he is coming from and why it seems so hard for him to be a bit more caring and thoughtful when I am giving him the respect he needs to keep having his time out of the house (granted I did semi put restrictions on him when I wanted him to come home after the bars closed the majority of the time). Why would he stay with me knowing what my boundaries are if he wasn’t ready to make the adjustment?
TL/DR: I 26F want to understand why my boyfriend 33M says he sees a future with me and wants to settle down when he is unable to make the adjustments to come home at a reasonable time and not stay out all night (we live together now) which I am very understanding of, but I asked him if he could make more of an effort with either words or actions of affirmation to just make me feel more respected / considered since he knows I don’t like it when he stays out all night. It hinders our relationship because he is tired, lazy, and pushing off responsibility. Which I would be more willing to accept if he made an effort to make me feel appreciated and loved in the way I recognize it best. My ultimate question is why is he so unwilling to do that when I feel as though it isn’t forcing his feelings, I’m just asking him to change the way he shows it sometimes.

Appalachian Grandpa- Cat tales

The fire crackled merrily as Glimmer lay stretched out before it. The dancing flames made her skin twinkle, which was how she had gotten her name from Grandpa, and the dazzle sent diamonds onto the ceiling. I had stopped in the doorway to the living room to watch her as she sparkled, and she grinned impishly when she noticed me.
"Is that milk water for me, handsome?" She asked, and it occurred to me then how young she seemed. She was like a girl in her early twenties in both appearance and mannerisms. I wondered not for the first time if she would be that way when I was grandpa's age?
She patted the fireplace as she sat up, inviting me to sit with her, and I brought the hot cocoa to her as I leaned back against the rough stone fireplace. Grandpa was sitting in his favorite chair, watching the two of us with a knowing smile. I appreciated him for that more than he would ever know. It would've been easy for him to be hurt, but he always seemed to take the closeness of Glimmer and I as just one of life's little blessings.
The widow had been very happy to have her cat back, and she thanked us all for finding him so quickly.
"He's a silly old thing, but he's all I've got left, and I'm quite fond of him. I'm glad he didn't wander off in the snow and get himself frozen to death."
She had excused herself pretty quickly, telling grandpa it looked like he was entertaining. She gave me a wink that I'm not sure I understood, and as she drove carefully down the driveway, grandpa waved at her from the porch. The three of us settled in and got ready for Glimmer to begin her story, the fire the only light in the room.
Glimmer took a sip of her hot cocoa and made an appreciative noise as the warmth fell over her.
"That's good. We don't have anything quite that good in the woods."
"Are you telling me that your civilization has existed since before settlers came from England, but you haven't figured out hot cocoa yet?" I asked with a little laugh.
Glimmer gave me a withering look but spoiled it by winking at me, "We have sweets, of course. Just nothing quite this frivolous exists in our world. We have more immediate concerns, like survival."
"And cats, apparently," I added.
Glimmer nodded, taking another sip of her cocoa, "Yes, and cats."
"Wait," grandpa said, "when I made you the wooden cat, you didn't seem so surprised."
"Well, I had seen wild cats before," Glimmer said a little tartly, "They run everywhere in the forest. But this cat was different. He was so strange that I didn't immediately realize he was akin to the felines I knew."
She closed her eyes, and as the smoke wafted into her face, I could tell she was time-traveling back to her girlhood days. Grandpa got that same look when he thought about the past, and I suppose it was universal. Glimmer was content to let the steam caress her for a few moments, beginning her story without much warning.
This was the time after Fisher's leaving. He had come to see me before he left and told me that he was going to fight in a war. I knew of wars, though I had never fought in one. He said he would be gone for a long time but that he hoped he would see me again. I didn't really understand, but I was upset at the thought of losing him. We had become close, and I didn't want to say goodbye. He told me this was something he had to do, but I didn't want to hear it. I told him to just go, that I didn't care if he came back or not, and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears I was trying to hold back.
When he said nothing, I turned back to find that I wasn't the only one failing to hold in my sorrow.
I was used to seeing Fisher sad, but he had seemed different after his encounter with The Bone Collector. He told me this was a thing he had to do and that getting away from the mountains for a while would be good for him. He wanted to see the world and grow into someone who could protect others. I refused to listen to his excuses, though. I was young and spirited, and if he was going to leave, I told him to just go ahead and go.
So we parted ways.
I never knew if his sadness was as deep as mine, but it was several days before I was fit for much beyond moody turns.
Life went on, though, despite his absence, and many weeks later, I found myself in the woods again.
Now, you may find it odd that I had never seen a cat before, but my people usually stay in the deep woods. I am considered an oddity because I will go so close to human places. In those days, I would not even go that far. Fisher had always come to visit me near the borders of my world and his, and without him to visit, I hadn't been anywhere near the humans in ages. On this particular day, I was supposed to be gathering herbs for medicine, so my mother could cure some of our people who had become ill. I had collected quite a few herbs, but when I found that I was close to the border again, I got a bit reminiscent of the times I had spent with Fisher.
So I decided to go and have a look at some of the other people that lived in the area.
I didn't know any of them, but Fisher had talked about some of them. His parents, his grandmother that had passed on, some of his neighbors, and of the friends he often went out with who I knew had been killed by the Strange Lights. I wasn't afraid of being seen by any of them. I could move as gracefully through the woods as any deer, and I had hidden from humans before. So I took my sack and bow and decided to see what I could see.
I was hopeful at the start, but it was not the grand adventure I thought it would. I saw human signs, old fires, and the waste they sometimes leave behind, but I encountered no people. I followed a trail to Fisher's old house, but I couldn't bring myself to get close. I missed him terribly, and the thought of seeing something that would remind me of him made me sad. I had turned around, preparing to head home again, when the strangest little creature stood in my path.
His fur was the color of a campfire, interspersed with dark browns and dots of gray. His ears had a distinctly chewed look, and his paws were large and very furry. He held a magnificent tail behind him, and he had come up on me without a sound. I was startled at first, drawing my bow and challenging him, but he meowed good-naturedly and cocked his head as if to ask what I was doing?
We stood there for several seconds, but when it became apparent that he meant me no harm, I put my weapon away and bent down to touch him. He was very soft, not bristly, like some of the other cats in the woods. He was a little muddy, but it was clear that someone was taking great care of him. He was well-fed, fatter than any cat I had ever seen, and he showed none of the hesitancy around me that many of the forest creatures did. I sat and let him butt his head against my hand. My other hand glided along his silky fur, and when he came to sit in my lap, I giggled as he rumbled against my stomach.
When I heard the sound of people returning to Fisher's old house, I realized I had been sitting there for a while.
I had become enchanted with this little beastie, and as he walked back into the woods, I followed him eagerly.
We spent the night in the forest, hunting mice and playing with the leaves and sticks that caught his attention. As the night went on, I became quite enamored with the little animal, and the more time we spent together, the better I felt about Fisher leaving. We were cuddling in the bows of a tree when the first fingers of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. I realized I had been out all night with him, and when I picked him up and headed for home, I had every intention of taking him with me.
As we walked back through the woods, I was confident that no one in my enclave would've seen anything like this before. Some of them had cats, but nothing as grand as this one. One of my cousins had a beautiful spotted cat, and my older sister had a white one with red eyes, but their hair was short and coarse and nowhere near as luxurious as this fellow. I smiled to myself as I thought of the jealousy on their faces when they saw him. Once mother had touched his silky fur, there would be no way she could turn it away. He would sleep next to my head at night, and I would drift off listening to the deep rumble of his purr.
I was so involved with my daydream that I almost missed when he wiggled out of my arms.
He had been riding along calmly until that point, purring against my side as the two of us walked. He looked back the way we could come and made that strange meow sound again. I was perplexed. Did he have a mate he needed to get back to? He started to walk away, but I picked him up again and tried to continue walking home. He wiggled out of my hands again, though, and glanced back at me with remorse as he shook his little head.
"What's wrong?" I asked, "Don't you want to come home with me?"
In response, he started to walk off again.
I took a step towards him but stopped myself before I could grab him up again. I turned around instead and headed for home, a little angry as I crunched through the underbrush. If he didn't want to come back with me, then so be it. I wouldn't force him, and the farther I got, the madder I became. Who cared if he didn't want to come back with me? I didn't need him. I had been fine before him, and I would be fine again.
Let him wander off into the woods if that's what he wanted to do.
Let him run afoul of a big mean coyote or a hungry owl or…or one of the bigger wild cats….or a snake…or….or
I wiped my eyes as they started to leak.
The anger leaked out with them, and soon I was making my way back the way I had come.
In my mind, I could already see him at the mercy of one of the coyote packs in the area or carried away by a hawk. He was a big fella but wouldn't stand a chance against a pack of dogs. I wouldn't find him in time, I thought, or I would find him too late, or I would find nothing but a smear of blood and some of that gorgeous fur stuck in the pool. I swiped at my eyes as the tears kept coming, already sure he was lost.
The sky was pinkening, true dawn still hours away, and when I heard him meow, I turned to find him cocking his head at me again.
I laughed, scooping him into my arms and hugging him, and he wiggled and meowed in confusion.
When I put him down again, he started walking the way we had come, and this time I followed him.
I could see the light beginning to intrude on the dark world, but I didn't mind. Some members of my race cannot stand the light, but I have learned to love it. It stings my eyes and makes my skin burn a little, but I try to spend some time each day in the sun, knowing that my friends are part of that lighted world. That thin line on the horizon would have been enough to send both my parents scuttling back to the depths of the enclave, but I followed my new friend evenly as he made his way. I expected I would find a little burrow of beasties like him, perhaps even some little ones with a mate who would be worried, but as we got closer to the edges of humanity, I realized where he was heading.
When we came to the edge of his home, the lights already on in the big house, he looked back at me much the same way I had looked at him on the border to my world.
"What? Don't you want to come home with me?" that look said, but I shook my head at him.
"No, this is where we must part ways, little friend."
He came back, butting up against my leg and giving me another rub of his silky fur, and then he trotted off for home, bounding up the back porch steps as he sat patiently at the door.
I had turned to leave, the dawn very close now, when a high and excited voice found its way to my ear.
"Clarence! You came back!"
I peeked through the trees and saw a little girl pulling him into her arms. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine, and as she rubbed her face against the cats, I realized this had been where he was returning to. She was his family, she was the one he had been trying to get back to, and I felt a little guilty for trying to keep him. He had a home already, and my ownership of him had been an act of theft.
"I told mommy you would come back. I'm sorry I put you outside yesterday while I was trying to nap. I won't do it again. Come on, let's get you some breakfast. Then we can brush you and get you," but their plans were cut off by the closing door, and as the day began, I slipped back into the woods and made my way home as well.
The fire crackled as she finished, and I saw a tear roll down her cheek as she remembered that day.
"I think, in a way, that was how I said goodbye to you as well, Fisher."
Grandpa smiled, "To me?"
Glimmer nodded, "You were never mine to keep, either. I felt hurt when you left, though I didn't admit it. You were gone, and I thought I could simply exist without you. Watching that cat go, realizing that it might get hurt and feeling hurt that it wouldn't stay, made me remember how you had left as well. I needed to come to terms with that, which helped a lot."
We all sat silently for a while, Glimmer putting her head on my shoulder as the fire crackled merrily behind us.
When Grandpa chuckled suddenly, I looked up and saw Glimmer cock a sardonic eye at him, "I had to get a cat out of the widow's house once. She didn't know it was a cat, of course. She thought it was a haint that had taken up residence in her attic. So there I am, prepared to do battle with a dark spirit, and when I step into the attic, I find myself face to face with a highly upset bobcat."
Glimmer's hand slipped into mine as the two of us listened and laughed as Grandpa unfurled his tale of a spirited wild animal and a surprised Grandpa. We sat by the fire as the snow came down, and the fire warmed our bones. I could feel Glimmer's warm, comfortable weight as she leaned against me, and as Grandpa unveiled his tale, I smiled, enjoying these small blessings as they came.

Hi I'm OK with screaming inside the trip but I'm not OK with screaming outside it I mean I don't want to wake up and see people trying to calm me down or call the ambulance, in reality I enjoy roller coster a lot and I'm not the screaming type. I know dmt is much different from anything in this world because you travel with your consciousness not body . I will be doing dmt outside in nature because it is much safer than doing it in my home, I live in different part of the world where people are very closed minded about drugs so I don't want anyone to notice in my house . I did 13 mg outside today . It was enjoyable experience and I felt like I was being taken somewhere like a roller coster is about to start ..sorry for my English

​
The fire crackled merrily as Glimmer lay stretched out before it. The dancing flames made her skin twinkle, which was how she had gotten her name from Grandpa, and the dazzle sent diamonds onto the ceiling. I had stopped in the doorway to the living room to watch her as she sparkled, and she grinned impishly when she noticed me.
"Is that milk water for me, handsome?" She asked, and it occurred to me then how young she seemed. She was like a girl in her early twenties in both appearance and mannerisms. I wondered not for the first time if she would be that way when I was grandpa's age?
She patted the fireplace as she sat up, inviting me to sit with her, and I brought the hot cocoa to her as I leaned back against the rough stone fireplace. Grandpa was sitting in his favorite chair, watching the two of us with a knowing smile. I appreciated him for that more than he would ever know. It would've been easy for him to be hurt, but he always seemed to take the closeness of Glimmer and I as just one of life's little blessings.
The widow had been very happy to have her cat back, and she thanked us all for finding him so quickly.
"He's a silly old thing, but he's all I've got left, and I'm quite fond of him. I'm glad he didn't wander off in the snow and get himself frozen to death."
She had excused herself pretty quickly, telling grandpa it looked like he was entertaining. She gave me a wink that I'm not sure I understood, and as she drove carefully down the driveway, grandpa waved at her from the porch. The three of us settled in and got ready for Glimmer to begin her story, the fire the only light in the room.
Glimmer took a sip of her hot cocoa and made an appreciative noise as the warmth fell over her.
"That's good. We don't have anything quite that good in the woods."
"Are you telling me that your civilization has existed since before settlers came from England, but you haven't figured out hot cocoa yet?" I asked with a little laugh.
Glimmer gave me a withering look but spoiled it by winking at me, "We have sweets, of course. Just nothing quite this frivolous exists in our world. We have more immediate concerns, like survival."
"And cats, apparently," I added.
Glimmer nodded, taking another sip of her cocoa, "Yes, and cats."
"Wait," grandpa said, "when I made you the wooden cat, you didn't seem so surprised."
"Well, I had seen wild cats before," Glimmer said a little tartly, "They run everywhere in the forest. But this cat was different. He was so strange that I didn't immediately realize he was akin to the felines I knew."
She closed her eyes, and as the smoke wafted into her face, I could tell she was time-traveling back to her girlhood days. Grandpa got that same look when he thought about the past, and I suppose it was universal. Glimmer was content to let the steam caress her for a few moments, beginning her story without much warning.
This was the time after Fisher's leaving. He had come to see me before he left and told me that he was going to fight in a war. I knew of wars, though I had never fought in one. He said he would be gone for a long time but that he hoped he would see me again. I didn't really understand, but I was upset at the thought of losing him. We had become close, and I didn't want to say goodbye. He told me this was something he had to do, but I didn't want to hear it. I told him to just go, that I didn't care if he came back or not, and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears I was trying to hold back.
When he said nothing, I turned back to find that I wasn't the only one failing to hold in my sorrow.
I was used to seeing Fisher sad, but he had seemed different after his encounter with The Bone Collector. He told me this was a thing he had to do and that getting away from the mountains for a while would be good for him. He wanted to see the world and grow into someone who could protect others. I refused to listen to his excuses, though. I was young and spirited, and if he was going to leave, I told him to just go ahead and go.
So we parted ways.
I never knew if his sadness was as deep as mine, but it was several days before I was fit for much beyond moody turns.
Life went on, though, despite his absence, and many weeks later, I found myself in the woods again.
Now, you may find it odd that I had never seen a cat before, but my people usually stay in the deep woods. I am considered an oddity because I will go so close to human places. In those days, I would not even go that far. Fisher had always come to visit me near the borders of my world and his, and without him to visit, I hadn't been anywhere near the humans in ages. On this particular day, I was supposed to be gathering herbs for medicine, so my mother could cure some of our people who had become ill. I had collected quite a few herbs, but when I found that I was close to the border again, I got a bit reminiscent of the times I had spent with Fisher.
So I decided to go and have a look at some of the other people that lived in the area.
I didn't know any of them, but Fisher had talked about some of them. His parents, his grandmother that had passed on, some of his neighbors, and of the friends he often went out with who I knew had been killed by the Strange Lights. I wasn't afraid of being seen by any of them. I could move as gracefully through the woods as any deer, and I had hidden from humans before. So I took my sack and bow and decided to see what I could see.
I was hopeful at the start, but it was not the grand adventure I thought it would. I saw human signs, old fires, and the waste they sometimes leave behind, but I encountered no people. I followed a trail to Fisher's old house, but I couldn't bring myself to get close. I missed him terribly, and the thought of seeing something that would remind me of him made me sad. I had turned around, preparing to head home again, when the strangest little creature stood in my path.
His fur was the color of a campfire, interspersed with dark browns and dots of gray. His ears had a distinctly chewed look, and his paws were large and very furry. He held a magnificent tail behind him, and he had come up on me without a sound. I was startled at first, drawing my bow and challenging him, but he meowed good-naturedly and cocked his head as if to ask what I was doing?
We stood there for several seconds, but when it became apparent that he meant me no harm, I put my weapon away and bent down to touch him. He was very soft, not bristly, like some of the other cats in the woods. He was a little muddy, but it was clear that someone was taking great care of him. He was well-fed, fatter than any cat I had ever seen, and he showed none of the hesitancy around me that many of the forest creatures did. I sat and let him butt his head against my hand. My other hand glided along his silky fur, and when he came to sit in my lap, I giggled as he rumbled against my stomach.
When I heard the sound of people returning to Fisher's old house, I realized I had been sitting there for a while.
I had become enchanted with this little beastie, and as he walked back into the woods, I followed him eagerly.
We spent the night in the forest, hunting mice and playing with the leaves and sticks that caught his attention. As the night went on, I became quite enamored with the little animal, and the more time we spent together, the better I felt about Fisher leaving. We were cuddling in the bows of a tree when the first fingers of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. I realized I had been out all night with him, and when I picked him up and headed for home, I had every intention of taking him with me.
As we walked back through the woods, I was confident that no one in my enclave would've seen anything like this before. Some of them had cats, but nothing as grand as this one. One of my cousins had a beautiful spotted cat, and my older sister had a white one with red eyes, but their hair was short and coarse and nowhere near as luxurious as this fellow. I smiled to myself as I thought of the jealousy on their faces when they saw him. Once mother had touched his silky fur, there would be no way she could turn it away. He would sleep next to my head at night, and I would drift off listening to the deep rumble of his purr.
I was so involved with my daydream that I almost missed when he wiggled out of my arms.
He had been riding along calmly until that point, purring against my side as the two of us walked. He looked back the way we could come and made that strange meow sound again. I was perplexed. Did he have a mate he needed to get back to? He started to walk away, but I picked him up again and tried to continue walking home. He wiggled out of my hands again, though, and glanced back at me with remorse as he shook his little head.
"What's wrong?" I asked, "Don't you want to come home with me?"
In response, he started to walk off again.
I took a step towards him but stopped myself before I could grab him up again. I turned around instead and headed for home, a little angry as I crunched through the underbrush. If he didn't want to come back with me, then so be it. I wouldn't force him, and the farther I got, the madder I became. Who cared if he didn't want to come back with me? I didn't need him. I had been fine before him, and I would be fine again.
Let him wander off into the woods if that's what he wanted to do.
Let him run afoul of a big mean coyote or a hungry owl or…or one of the bigger wild cats….or a snake…or….or
I wiped my eyes as they started to leak.
The anger leaked out with them, and soon I was making my way back the way I had come.
In my mind, I could already see him at the mercy of one of the coyote packs in the area or carried away by a hawk. He was a big fella but wouldn't stand a chance against a pack of dogs. I wouldn't find him in time, I thought, or I would find him too late, or I would find nothing but a smear of blood and some of that gorgeous fur stuck in the pool. I swiped at my eyes as the tears kept coming, already sure he was lost.
The sky was pinkening, true dawn still hours away, and when I heard him meow, I turned to find him cocking his head at me again.
I laughed, scooping him into my arms and hugging him, and he wiggled and meowed in confusion.
When I put him down again, he started walking the way we had come, and this time I followed him.
I could see the light beginning to intrude on the dark world, but I didn't mind. Some members of my race cannot stand the light, but I have learned to love it. It stings my eyes and makes my skin burn a little, but I try to spend some time each day in the sun, knowing that my friends are part of that lighted world. That thin line on the horizon would have been enough to send both my parents scuttling back to the depths of the enclave, but I followed my new friend evenly as he made his way. I expected I would find a little burrow of beasties like him, perhaps even some little ones with a mate who would be worried, but as we got closer to the edges of humanity, I realized where he was heading.
When we came to the edge of his home, the lights already on in the big house, he looked back at me much the same way I had looked at him on the border to my world.
"What? Don't you want to come home with me?" that look said, but I shook my head at him.
"No, this is where we must part ways, little friend."
He came back, butting up against my leg and giving me another rub of his silky fur, and then he trotted off for home, bounding up the back porch steps as he sat patiently at the door.
I had turned to leave, the dawn very close now, when a high and excited voice found its way to my ear.
"Clarence! You came back!"
I peeked through the trees and saw a little girl pulling him into her arms. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine, and as she rubbed her face against the cats, I realized this had been where he was returning to. She was his family, she was the one he had been trying to get back to, and I felt a little guilty for trying to keep him. He had a home already, and my ownership of him had been an act of theft.
"I told mommy you would come back. I'm sorry I put you outside yesterday while I was trying to nap. I won't do it again. Come on, let's get you some breakfast. Then we can brush you and get you," but their plans were cut off by the closing door, and as the day began, I slipped back into the woods and made my way home as well.
The fire crackled as she finished, and I saw a tear roll down her cheek as she remembered that day.
"I think, in a way, that was how I said goodbye to you as well, Fisher."
Grandpa smiled, "To me?"
Glimmer nodded, "You were never mine to keep, either. I felt hurt when you left, though I didn't admit it. You were gone, and I thought I could simply exist without you. Watching that cat go, realizing that it might get hurt and feeling hurt that it wouldn't stay, made me remember how you had left as well. I needed to come to terms with that, which helped a lot."
We all sat silently for a while, Glimmer putting her head on my shoulder as the fire crackled merrily behind us.
When Grandpa chuckled suddenly, I looked up and saw Glimmer cock a sardonic eye at him, "I had to get a cat out of the widow's house once. She didn't know it was a cat, of course. She thought it was a haint that had taken up residence in her attic. So there I am, prepared to do battle with a dark spirit, and when I step into the attic, I find myself face to face with a highly upset bobcat."
Glimmer's hand slipped into mine as the two of us listened and laughed as Grandpa unfurled his tale of a spirited wild animal and a surprised Grandpa. We sat by the fire as the snow came down, and the fire warmed our bones. I could feel Glimmer's warm, comfortable weight as she leaned against me, and as Grandpa unveiled his tale, I smiled, enjoying these small blessings as they came.

Every time you write do it to be a better writer than you were, the last time.
Every time you write a story, write an ending and know how the main conflict will get resolved.
Your idea or the basic synopsis of an outline or pitch is not the story.
I often see folks asking about the quality of their general story idea in other subs.
When people ask others if their idea is good they do it like a trailer... but there is no product beyond the trailer.
Does it matter if others like or dislike the basic idea that hasn't even been outlined or plotted?
No, it does not.
Whatever you want to write about that interests you is probably the best thing you can write about.
If it truly moves you, it will probably move others.
If it surprises you, it will probably surprise others.
If it scares you, it will probably scare others.
If you genuinely find it funny others probably will, too.
But don't just write something about some subject that intetests others unless it actually interests you, too.
If you like vampires, write your vampire story.
If you like the uncertainty and weirdness of first dates, write a first date adventure.
If you like cruise ship mysteries, write a cruise ship mystery.
Write what you know, and enjoy writing it.
If you don't know the subject and/or find the researching and writing joyless or even pointless, then (unless it's for school or some necessary report or blog or whatever for work) it probably isn't worth your time to write it.
But it's NOT what the story is about that makes it good, it is the way it is written.
So I love this idea because it is very ingenious, it is not mine:

Scientists on Earth are developing a new weapon which would explode light and that scares Aliens and they come to warn us and threaten us and stop us.
If we would explode light, that could cause a chain reaction that would effect all light, everywhere in the Universe, at the rate of quantum tunneling, and that would destroy the Universe.
Humans ignore the warnings and so the Aliens use electromagnetic manipulation to reanimate the recently deceased to attack Humans, instead of direct confrontation from the Aliens.
This almost leads to a worldwide panic.

It just ends there; this is the basic idea behind Edward D Wood, jr.'s Plan Nine From Outer Space long and wide considered by many to be the worst movie they have ever seen.
The final bit that I left out is:

Instead of a worldwide panic, an alien spaceship catches fire and blows up... but it is just one of the many alien ships... and then it just ends.

Ed Wood was long considered the worst director and screenwriter who ever lived, though, nowadays thanks to direct comparison with movies like "The Room" and "Vampire Men Of The Lost Planet" readily available at the touch of a finger, we can see that he wasn't all that bad--but was bad--but also had a few glimmers of obvious genius in his work.
What to do with your idea:
A story goes: situation leads to conflict leads to resolution which becomes a new situation or resolves the entire story.
When the primary conflict is resolved, the story ends.
Scene is long and drawn out like a setup and sequel is abrupt like a punchline and it either leads into a new scene or concludes a chapter or ends the whole story.
Your primary conflict and what it leads to could be anything at all but I want to illustrate with this classic exercise:
Get a man up a tree and have him realize he is afraid of heights. Now get him down.
Situation: Man climbs tree. Primary Conflict: Man is scared of heights and cannot get down. Resolution to Primary Conflict: Man gets down.
When the primary conflict is resolved, the story is over
Scene is his climb and sequel is the realization he is afraid to climb down which leads to scene he ponders a way down leads to sequel it won't work OR sequel he gets down.
If it's sequel it won't work and he is still up the tree then that leads to scene he must try something else. Perhaps a stranger will come by and he can ask them to help him down which leads to sequel the stranger climbs up the tree to help or runs away to get help or throws a rock at the man causing him to fall and he is down.
If it is sequel the person climbs up the tree to help, that leads to scene you now have two people stuck up a tree tying to figure out how to get down.
If it is sequel the person runs away to get help then that leads to scene the man wonders what kind of help will come which leads to sequel the person returns with a tool to help the man get down or the person returns with more people.
If it is sequel the person returns with a tool that leads to scene setting it up and sequel the man gets down.
If it is sequel the person returns with an axe and/or a saw that leads to scene cutting down tree or cutting limb from tree which leads to sequel man is down.
If it is sequel person returns with another person that can lead to scene two people help each other climb up the tree and sequel all three are stuck.
Or that can lead to throwing rocks at the man or forming a human ladder or getting the fire department or stopping traffic to get a ladder off a work truck or confusion about the nature of the emergency bringing a poison control unit out to the tree and they park their truck next to the branch so the man can climb down and just before he reaches the ground they grab him and strsp him to a gurney and then they go through all standard poisoning emergency activities like feeding him ipecac and pumping his stomach or maybe the army gets called in and there's a miscommunication about troop movements leading to a huge war or maybe a portal to parallel universe opens and the man walks through it and he becomes the tree and then he finds another portal and it comes out two feet above the branch he was already stuck on so he goes back through and no portals open again anywhere ever or maybe anything you can imagine.
But when the primary conflict is resolved, when the man gets down, however he gets down, the story is over.
The hero may get the girl and the gold but as soon as the primary conflict is resolved--as soon as the plans, the recovery of which were Darth Vader's initial reason for overtaking Princess Leia Organa's Corellian Corvette The Tantive IV, plans which she input into Artoodeetoo that "he" has to get to Obi-Wan, plans that Obi-Wan Kenobi has to get to The Rebels, and it is in an attempt to deliver the plans to the Rebels that, along with Han, Luke, Chewie, Artoodeetoo, and Ceethripio, He discovers the remains of Alderaan as an asteroid field, and when Han Solo decides to pilot The Millennium Falcon over to a small moon, to recalibrate the obviously malfunctioning--or is it?--hyperdrive, they all together they discover that it's not a moon, it's a space station, but that's impossible because it is over 2,000 km across, and then they have the opportunity to rescue Princess Leia, who they do rescue and who knows the way to the secret Rebel stronghold hideout where they need to deliver the plans to, making Obi-Wan redundant, so Darth Vader kills him, which raises the stakes for Luke, who saw Obi-Wan fall, and to whom the stakes are now as high as they already were for Leia, who saw her home planet destroyed, and so, she told Han how to pilot The Millennium Falcon to the Rebel stronghold hideout where Luke would become a Rebel pilot, and, there, implemented the plans for their initially intended ends in Luke's destroying The Death Star, which was the space station they had already been aboard, you'll recall, where Luke had seen Obi-Wan fall, and so, Luke got his revenge, and so, Princess Leia got her revenge, since that was the space station that destroyed her world, and so, Darth Vader's dreams were dashed, and so, the plans, from the very start of the movie, no longer matter because they were Death Star destroying plans and they had been used to destroy The Death Star, in a way that tied-off a bunch of loose-ends at once in a satisfying climax, and the story is over; and the medal-giving scene seems to just be there because John William wrote a heroes' march and they had a bunch of extras standing around, and unused dress costumes as opposed to the uniforms and casual-wear costumes worn elsewhere throughout the movie, and so, George Lucas opted to include the medal-giving scene in the movie, but the story really ended when The Death Star blew up--the story is over.
The preceding story description will only really make sense to someone who has both watched Star Wars and read the official novelisation.
Your writing will only get anywhere if you rewrite your story so that it can make sense to someone who doesn't have your personal frame-of-reference and cannot imagine through your mind.
A sentence is a noun and a verb: a thing and an action.
A story is a series of statements about characters and/or things doing things with other characters and/or things with other characters and/or things and/or for other characters and/or things and/or to other characters and or things and/or against other characters and/or things generally for the benefit of themselves or to aid or injure some other character and/or thing, or for some greater ideal than themselves in self-sacrifice for faith.
Do this for every character in every new scene:
Who? Do this for every character and every action and every perspective.
What? Do this for every character and for every object mentioned and for every specialized location.
When? Do this with every sentence. Maintain a chronology as a fluidly ordered sequence-of-events and actions, and make sure the reader knows the time of day.
Where? Do this for every location, every character, and every object.
How? Do this for every action and for every sequel and for every situation and for every conflict and for every resolution.
Why? This is unimportant unless you really want to spend the time psychoanalyzing your idea of your character and maybe plotting an entire life history, and perhaps even going so far as inventing a whole history and prehistory for your entire world.
Some do.
Consider the chronology of these examples:
The shot that made [EXAMPLE VILLAIN]'s head explode like a snowball thrown hard at a brick wall was fired after [CHARACTER EXAMPLE] picked up the explodiola gun from the table. [CHARACTER EXAMPLE] had leaned forward to grab it by extending their arm across to it, and then they cocked the hammer back whlie they were turning around. [EXAMPLE VILLAIN] called [CHARACTER EXAMPLE] a weenie and, then [CHARACTER EXAMPLE] said "Hasta mañanas, Poopsie!" and finally put their finger to the trigger and then squeezed it back. [EXAMPLE VILLAIN] had been performing [STOCK "EVIL ACT"] and wouldn't stop.
[CHARACTER EXAMPLE] leaned forward and extended their arm as they reached their hand across the table and then grab the explodiola gun, they spun around, cocking back the hammer, and then faced [EXAMPLE VILLAIN] performing [STOCK "EVIL ACT"], and they wouldn't stop, they had, in fact, called [CHARACTER EXAMPLE] a weenie; so [CHARACTER EXAMPLE] said, "Hasta mañanas, Poopsie!", stuck their finger to the trigger and squeezed it back, and then [EXAMPLE VILLAIN]'s head exploded like a snowball thrown hard at a brick wall.