Apartments near cypress station

Hi I’m new to this and having a rough time please forgive grammar etc just trying to get it off my chest looking for advice or anything really
So background Me 21M Her 20F Ex 18M my 1.5 years parter Who was my first everything (Kiss, sex ,proper girlfriend ) etc (Waited till I found the right one or so I thought) Have spent multiple times together in person Everything has always been ok
she threw the idea of a break but I thought we worked threw it she also gave me 365 reasons she loved me then was 1 day for a year so everything was good So I fly home after thinking we are fine still in love she messages me for the first night then nothing Then I’m blocked Then the next day I see she’s talking to her ex so confused as why she was he was very manipulative and abused her financially and almost physically when they met who also was in a ldr with her before me And then she starts posting You don’t know how much you miss someone till you are apart for awhile And you’re my everything with a photo of her And I was confused because I still wasn’t sure what was happening Also had mutual friends confirm it was the ex So our mutual friend got into contact for me And she basically replied with I didn’t know how unattached I was till we had a break (1 day) And now she’s posting his hand and hearts And she said how he’s grown up and how he’s mature so I looked at his instagram and he’s posted a photo with him and a blue bandanna and his bio is e.a.s.t 💙 and stuff like that I believe he’s manipulating already kicking mutual friends out of there chats Making it so she can’t talk to me He’s also sending her responses to the messages I sent her for the only time I did get to text because she doesn’t type the way the responses were sent She claims it’s not the ex but the proof I have screams otherwise

1. Messages on Insta gram photo dump Saying let’s smash x and response (On the photos where I took her out and was physically with her )
   
2. A photo of her laying on a bed in a game saying for ex
   
3. 2 separate people confirmed who she was talking to
   
4. Her saying she’s catching up with him as a friend but they only say hello and bye
   

I brought her flowers everytime I have seen her and more then once most of the time We did date nights up till the day before I left We slept together
She has confirmed I’m the first partner to do anything for her romantic and not just want her body
I gave her my everything I did things that made me uncomfortable to better us I stopped talking to my friends that she didn’t like
She was bullied by people who I made stop and never let her know why it stopped Even she suspected me but I told her I wasn’t sure why
I spent months working with her building her up constantly reassured her she’s loved and is beautiful and I was here
She wasn’t eating and had pretty bad body views because of ex
I made sure she ate everyday I brought her food when she had none I gave her my everything
And for her to turn around and move on after a day doesn’t seem fair and going back to him on top of that
She wasn’t the most loving girlfriend Tho She would tell me to cry and think it was funny to make me cry after we got into disagreements (I’m not a person who cry’s) She would physically hit me if I annoyed her And lots more Yesterday she took money out of my card because she had saved the information left me with 3$
I said to my friend before I knew she moved on and wasn’t sure what happen that I could drive up that night or fly the next day and it was only to talk to her and work this out nothing more nothing less (my words were if I don’t do everything in my power to save this is it really love ) He told her Then the messages I received

1. Well, you said you were going to show up to my house, now I’m really uncomfortable around you
   
2. You said you were going to show up to my house, now I’m scared. Can you blame me?
   
3. Well you really should’ve, because now I’m scared off you
   
4. I don’t if I can trust you, being alone with me. How do I know you won’t do something I don’t want
   

And that made me feel like a monster I have never done anything that would hurt her never threaten to hit her or anything And this is why I believe that it wasn’t her that wrote them because I was in bed with her days prior she kissed me she cuddle me laughed did everything like normal Plus she doesn’t use gramma (I admitted I shouldn’t of said I would just show up but I was losing my mind and wanted to fix it and my thought process was if we could just talk ) I said sorry for it And the fights that she start I always said sorry and took blame
I tried so hard to build her up making sure she was a better person growing. actually loving her and caring It took months to break down all the walls And the ex constantly made accounts to abuse us and tell us he was getting her back and how I’m nothing and other hate and drama I tried to keep us out of She promised me she wouldn’t ever put herself into a situation like that again
sure I was perfect but I gave everything I could. I tried to be perfect for her and even after all this I love her and want her back It’s only been 5 days today but I can see how he’s already manipulating her
And I’m worried about her so much Any attempt I made to talk failed There is a hole in my heart And all I want is to know shes going to be ok It hurts she left me and I told her in our relationship if you move on don’t go backwards and not to the ones who hurt her But I can’t sleep eat or function everything we did everything together like cook clean watch tv
It’s really broken me I haven’t cried this much ever And if there was anything I can do to help her I would Even the money she took if she just asked I would of brought her food or whatever she needed
Sure I could be toxic but i never tried to be and we worked together to fix it
I always made the effort to push like really push communication and we got really good at it till the end i guess when she didn’t talk to me
I just want to make sure she’s ok and that what’s hurting all the work for her to move back She had so much planned gym working on herself and now she’s on PlayStation for hours with him And it hurts that it’s him but hurts she’s throw all the progress away She’s also the reason I started being less depressed felt comfortable just being me And not wanting to hide away I improved as a person because of her
I wish I had the chance to fix this and Have the life we always talked about
Ps I know that probably no one will read this and I know it’s probably not the right group but I really need to get it out
Definitely forgot things and probably typos etc feel free to ask me anything I’m honestly a open book

We may be anonymous strangers on the internet, but we have one thing in common. We may be a world apart, but we're here together!
Welcome to the 24 hour pledge!
I'm pledging myself to not drinking today, and invite you to do the same.
Maybe you're new to /stopdrinking and have a hard time deciding what to do next. Maybe you're like me and feel you need a daily commitment or maybe you've been sober for a long time and want to inspire others.
It doesn't matter if you're still hung over from a three day bender or been sober for years, if you just woke up or have already completed a sober day. For the next 24 hours, lets not drink alcohol!
This pledge is a statement of intent. Today we don't set out trying not to drink, we make a conscious decision not to drink. It sounds simple, but all of us know it can be hard and sometimes impossible. The group can support and inspire us, yet only one person can decide if we drink today. Give that person the right mindset!
What happens if we can't keep to our pledge? We give up or try again. And since we're here in /stopdrinking, we're not ready to give up.
What this is: A simple thread where we commit to not drinking alcohol for the next 24 hours, posting to show others that they're not alone and making a pledge to ourselves. Anybody can join and participate at any time, you do not have to be a regular at /stopdrinking or have followed the pledges from the beginning.
What this isn't: A good place for a detailed introduction of yourself, directly seek advice or share lengthy stories. You'll get a more personal response in your own thread.
This post goes up at:

• US - Night/Early Morning
• Europe - Morning
• Asia and Australia - Evening/Night

A link to the current Daily Check-In post can always be found near the top of the sidebar.
Happy Thursday SD Family!
Reflecting on my own journey, the role of this community has been invaluable.
My first few successful days felt like a lonely voyage. I had just gotten out of the hospital, felt weak and sick, and just…
alone
Nobody to talk to that would get it. It felt like the people that knew I was in the hospital treated me differently. I got home and sat on my couch and cried…
alone
I had a week before I went back to work. A week
alone
But here's what I discovered - I wasn't actually alone. I am part of this amazing, supportive community here at SD. We’re all sailing this sea. Each of us guiding our own ship, but never alone in the waters.
Every story shared, every struggle voiced, every victory celebrated, and even every setback discussed here isn't just a personal act. We're reminding each other and ourselves that we're part of something bigger. We are lighting a beacon of hope for someone else with each post and each comment.
Personally, hosting the DCI has enhanced my sense of connection to this community. It's been a way to give back, to offer support, and to strengthen my commitment. If this sounds like an experience you'd be interested in, and you've maintained your sobriety for at least 30 days, I'd recommend reaching out to SaintHomer. He'll guide you on how to host the DCI!
Remember, choosing not to drink is hard, but it does get easier - especially when you have a community behind you. We're in this together!

(Any sentences or phrases wrapped with brackets "[ ]" are designated as inner monologue!)
Thank you to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating this wonderful literary universe!
{A shorter chapter for today! Had a little trouble making this long conference as entertaining as I would've liked it to be.}
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Memory transcription subject: Cayek, Gojid Linguist
Date [standardized human time]: July 15, 2165
I stared blankly at the image projected before me, questions wrapped themselves around my mind, the confusion was almost suffocating. How could this relic have been carved to depict 4 different sapient species when the most recent of the species carved onto the cube wasn’t even on the galactic stage until a couple years ago? “These images don’t exactly answer our questions. It is intriguing that the artifact depicts modern species but the individuals shown could be anyone. Why choose us specifically?” A woman in a black suit stood from her seat. “The 4 individuals shown on the artifact are all put in specific settings that, though somewhat indirectly, portray aspects of your lives. Cayek, you wanted to leave the hateful and fiery past of your family behind and better yourself, Lemva, you try to flee from your self-hatred by distracting yourself with new experiences, Tassak, you are shunned by both the Federation species and your own kind, and James, you struggle with anger and have difficulty trusting anyone since an old family friend betrayed you.” We sat in silence, mulling over the words we had just taken in.
“How do you know these things?” Lemva asked, befuddled. “You all are attending therapy for your issues, correct? We’ve had to take use of some… unsavory methods, to keep order since Kasinek’s Templars started their little “anti-predator” campaign a while back.” The woman looked across the table at a man sat beside Zhao, seeming to be requesting confirmation to continue. The man nodded, and the woman turned back to us. “As well as your backgrounds, we’ve been monitoring brain activity from anyone that passed the first few checks for applicants. 4 weeks back, when we first recovered the artifact, we discovered an unsettling pattern. Any personnel that spent an extended amount of time near the object started experiencing unnaturally similar dreams. Each report involved the exact same phenomenon, wherein the dreamer would come into contact with what was described as a white dwarf star.”
My blood ran cold as I recalled the night terrors I had been experiencing recently. I looked over at my partners and their expressions conveyed similar emotions. “You’ve been monitoring our dreams?!” Lemva yelled angrily. The woman looked amused, she hadn’t said yes but her expression absolutely implied it. “Yes, unsavory methods, back on topic.” The woman took a seat and placed her steepled hands onto the table. “You 4 have been having identical dreams, despite not being in contact with the artifact. This, along with the other factors we’ve discussed, led us to invite you here to conduct some experiments. The fact that you are all highly trained historians is also a plus, perhaps with your inexplicable ties to the artifact you may be able to find something we could not.” The woman looked around at her colleagues before continuing. “Most of the people here would not like to admit it, but we’re just as confused as you are.”
My eyes glanced over at James and Lemva to my right. James had been silent for nearly the whole briefing, and he still kept that silence now. He looked deep in thought, staring blankly at the surface of the ornate table he was sitting at. Lemva looked displeased at the idea that her thoughts were not as private as she once thought, but there was also a twinge of fear within her that was given away by the way that she flicked her ears and swung her tail. I looked to my left at the Arxur who I had earlier been afraid of. Tassak looked fearful, she clicked her claws rhythmically as she sorted through the contents of her mind. [I highly doubt these people are as confused as we are.]
If we were going to be involved in experiments with the artifact, I wanted to know more about the thing beforehand. “What is known about the artifact so far? Did the Federation records contain any information about where it was obtained, at what time, what it’s made of? That sort of thing. We need to know more if you’re going to be running experiments with us.” A slightly larger venlil in a white lab-coat pulled out 4 holopads before passing them to us. “These holopads contain most of everything we know of the artifact. You can read the extensive reports at your own leisure at a later date but for now I will provide a summarized version.” The venlil sat back in his seat and switched slides on the projector. The image of the artifact and holopad in their cell from before was displayed again.
“The holopad that was kept with the artifact contains records detailing the recovery of the artifact from a desolate planet in a star-system near the edge of Federation space in the year 2010. The star-system, which was designated as Taavon, was planned to be the site of a military outpost to keep tabs on Arxur activity. The planet that the artifact was discovered on, Taavon-C, was chosen as the construction site for a covert listening station. During excavation, the artifact was found along with some buried stone structures. The site was deemed unsuitable for construction and the ruins were set to be demolished after, and I quote, ‘architectural practices considered predatory in nature’ were discovered. A total of 3 antimatter warheads were dropped on the site, and upon surveying the smoldering crater, the artifact was found entirely unharmed.”
The notion that this object had survived a direct antimatter bombardment was absurd to me, perhaps the Feds had it wrong, it was not my place to object though. “That is the extent of the information provided by the holopad, aside from some crap about how the object ‘stood against everything the Federation holds dear.’ Pretentious bastards.” The scientist switched to a slowly rotating 3d model of the object as a background for his next statement. “The rest of the information we gathered ourselves after acquiring the artifact. It has a surface area of 1350cm² and a volume of 3375cm³, it weighs 12.96 kilograms, and is made of an element we’ve never seen before. We’re still deciding on a name for the element. It has been extremely resistant to every single type of energy or force that we can apply to it. High pressures, intense heat, radiation, antimatter, friction, gravitic shearing, all did absolutely nothing to the thing. Hell, we tried blasting it with Q-EUS and all we ended up with was 37 billion dollars worth of energy down the drain and a single shard of the material that barely measured a micron in width.”
The scientist’s frustration rose in amplitude as he listed off the failed tests, before being suppressed by a quick session of deep breaths. “Thankfully, that fragment held a lot of information about the artifact. So maybe it was worth it, I don’t know.” There was a brief pause before the scientist’s monologue continued. “We were able to perform radiometric dating on the shard, and I don’t think you’re gonna believe what I’m about to tell you. When I first received the results I was ready to fire someone for incompetence. But you can’t fail 30 separate tests back to back.” The man paused, taking in our curiosity as we waited. The man hunched over and lowered his voice, to emphasize his next statement.
“The results showed that the material the artifact is made of is more than 20 billion years old.”
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(This is my first series on NatureofPredators, any criticism or advice is welcome! I want to make my stories inviting and pleasant to read! Also, please notify me if you find any formatting errors, I'm not very familiar with Reddit's formatting.)

before anyone says its my fault, i always pick up his poop and he only pees on trees/grass. i never let him do anything on other's property which is just basic manners. in my old locality, i never had a problem like this because most people had dogs themselves. but since ive moved here, everytime i walk my dog, someone has to talk shit. for context, im a 17 year old girl and i walk my dog alone. so these people are scaring me.
one gulli i go to, there was this watchman of an apartment demanding i never take my dog near the open space infront of the apartment. its literally public property that those people have been using to park cars. when i said he doesnt own that land, he started picking fights. in the end he came to a compromise and told me to just not to let my dog pee on cars, which i never let him do anyway. theres also another uncle from the top of another apartment that just screams at me to go away.
today i went to another one where an old man from the first floor of an independent house started throwing things to scare my dog. i ignored him and then he started shouting at me to take him away and that i go there everyday (which i dont??? it was my first time) and then i started to walk away when i heard him screaming again and when i looked back, he'd come on the road and was walking towards me?? i just quickly walked back to my house and made sure he didn't follow me.
why are these people so mad??? oh and my dog also isnt any fancy breed. he's just indian. they dont say anything to other dog owners, ive noticed. this shit only happens to me and i dont know if its because my dog is indian or if they see a girl and see an easy target. either way, i dont feel safe anymore.

So it's two nights after the first clear visit from a very unwelcomed guest. Let me spill the beans on what went down tonight around maybe 11. Picture this: we're on this quaint Dutch Caribbean island, and it's just me from the middle of nowhere (30F), and my buddy Juan (34M) from a Spanish Caribbean island. So, we've been dealing with some seriously eerie spiritual issues lately, and it's been giving me major jitters. I've been feeling all sorts of uncomfortable in my apartment, and strange things have been going down.
Now, here's the scoop. Juan swung by today, and let me tell you, things took a creepy turn. I was catching some Zs when he knocked on my door. I stumbled my way there and let him in. We settled in the living room, shooting the breeze, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw something peculiar.
You see, I've got this frosted glass window on my front door, which gives me a blurry glimpse of the outside. And that's when it happened—someone walked right past my front door on the catwalk. But here's the kicker: it was pitch black outside, the lights were off, and this figure appeared stark white, like something out of a horror flick. I froze, and Juan, sharp as ever, asked if I saw it too. Meanwhile, my dog was sniffing near the door, doing her usual thing when someone passes by. But this time, it was just a sniff, calm and collected, no barking.
Curiosity got the best of us, and Juan swung open the door, scanning the area for any sign of the mysterious figure. But guess what? Not a soul in sight. It wasn't a neighbor or anything. We're up on the second floor, front-facing, and that catwalk doesn't see much action. There's only one way up, and no one was there. I can't shake the feeling that it might've been the same guest from a few nights ago, the one that said, "Hello," you know? And now I can't help but worry that we shouldn't have even opened that door.
But here's the kicker, babe. Juan brought me this rosary from his mom, and he's convinced we need to find a new place for me. He's spooked, thinking that the spirit either owns the apartment building or has this protective hold on it. And listen to this: I'm the only non-relative in the entire building and a guy from near here said he thinks someone died in my building not too long ago. Crazy, right? Oh, and get this. Juan's bruja mama warned Juan that if I stick around for too long, that spirit might just attach itself to me, like it's got some sort of claim over my space here. And here I was, thinking about starting a family soon. But Juan, bless his heart, warned me that if I have a child in this house, that spirit would attach to it or something. Talk about some intense island folklore!
To ease my ever-growing anxiety, Juan's on a mission to get me some red string and an aloe leaf, something to protect me from the unknown and ward the entrances. And get this, my boss's momma, she's done some crazy thing with a lime and says there is this negativity that seems to be following me around. My boss says I need to move too. I was planning on staying here until January and have only recently spoken out loud I was moving. I am wondering if Juan's mom is right and the street spirits are trying to claim me.We've started covering my windows. Juan says if the spirits don't see movement they don't stop to ask for entrance, but he's afraid that it noticed me a few days ago and now it wants to come in. I have a deep fatigue that's been following me these last few days. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I know the answer is move, but I just started settling in here and the plan was to leave in six months or so that way I have time to find something good. I don't want this thing to attach to me. Juan told me to play music when he leaves says it's a tradition to keep the "fantasmas" or flying street spirits away.I hope I'm not the only one that does not like the idea of flying street spirits being normal.Also when I was telling my boss and his mom their hair stood up. They told me to becareful of the demons that try to come in my life and to never open the door. I didn't open it Juan did and now I'm so nervous.

Okay, this will be the last text I send (unless something happens getting my brother out of the hole right now.)
If there's no action taken by you, I plan to go on to the next person in your Chain of Command. (I mean this in the kindest way) (ask Trav) I'm just fighting for what's right .(...and he was sentenced harshly for a crime that did not fit his case.)
He is also my best friend.
The truth Always Wins. Travis is a good human being. He has had a rough start to life. He is different now. I can finally see he isnt angry and forgives. (I am learning this from him now.)
He is in the whole right now because a 240 Lb man named Arthur punched him in the face after Trav told him to "Fuck Off." While on the ground being restrained by Guards he was kicked in the eye socket with steel-toed boots!!
Now he sits in the hole with a note on the door if your not going to be nice, ...... Be Nice.
This breaks my heart, my parents, my kids and his Liberty hearts. His Charge is the worst of the Worst and he didn't do that.
He got jumped and is being punished by Guards that dislike him.
The guard that's on duty tonight only allowed him 30 minutes on the phone the guard last night. Let him have an hour. So we only got to talk to me today for 30 min.
Again, all we need is one good person in Charge to stand up for him. This is wrong on so many accounts.
Today he received the abbreviations for blood panel results... Example: A1C. 5.3 Test 479 EFT. 4 (Those are his actual reading)
He called me with a 30 minute phone call. He was allowed so I could look it up and it appears that he has going through kidney failure. He got a note from the doctors in the prison saying he needs to be seen right away. Yet he's still stuck in the hole right now.
This incident that happened to land Travis Harp in the "hole" happened last Thursday 03/02/23. When Arthur and Trav met in the kitchen at 4 am.
The last 9 years have been a whirl wind of terrible mistreating while being imprisoned. Trav also told me that we're apart of the reason that he was able to go to the honor camp. You must have seen the good in Trav. He is a good Man.
Please act now. I know you have a family emergency and I am REALLY sorry for this.
But if they choose to add last Thursday's incidents to his point system, Travis says they'll send him back to Rawlins. He's getting out in 8 months. This was planned. Him getting punched in the face and kicked in the face.
If you have any downtime, I would be the most grateful person. If you would contact the prison and make it right, you have that authority right?
Eagerly waiting your response,
MY NAME HERE
He just wants to work with Dad at his place in Sheridan. When he saves enough money for land and (he says) a tailor. Then move to be near me and our family.
Sorry for the book. You are the first person to say you will look into Travis Harps Multiple appeals.
This is conversation between the warden of the prison (where my brother's at) and I this evening. I need honest thoughts.
We need to get together sometime and have a chat about life .
Wyoming has huge issues. One of them is their prison systems.
Free my Little brother!!

Quick Author's Note:
For better clarity of intent, the 'worthwhile opponent' stipulation in Lifedrinker is being changed to 'non-negligible opponent' moving forward.
​
--
​
"The Gellin Empress was the catalyst for our breakthrough," a mage explained. "Tracing Lord Rob's lingering mana signature through the space between dimensions proved effective at first, yet it came with an insurmountable problem: he only attained mana after initially leaving Earth. At a certain point, there was no more of a signature for us to trace. We had found his home dimension, but finding his home world within the infinite expanses of that dimension could have taken years of aimless searching, like blind men stumbling in the dark."
He leaned forward, clearly enjoying having a captive audience. "The key, then, lay within Lord Rob's memories. Even without mana, memories have a power all their own. The Empress looked within his mind and found locations of personal importance to him. Ones that he remembers with pristine clarity. By scrying for areas within Lord Rob's dimension that matched those specific locations, we were able to narrow down the scope of our search considerably."
The mage spread his palms wide, and his voice dropped a full octave, as if he was imparting a great revelation. "The result will soon be made self-evident. You shall bear witness to the foremost magical achievement of our era: a one-way viewing window into Lord Rob's world. The first of many to come."
In respect for the man's showmanship, Rob started up a clap. Granted, he would've clapped even if the explanation was done via a mindnumbing PowerPoint presentation, because nothing in the universe could stunt his enthusiasm right now. Riardin's Ranger, the Elders, Diplomacy, and the Soul Surgeon clapped as well, although Rob was pretty sure they were just following his cues. This moment couldn't possibly hold the same gravitas for them as it did for him. They mostly were here to provide moral support and satisfy their curiosity.
While for him, this meant everything.
"Do we need the Gellin Empress here to create the window?" Rob asked. "I'd also like to thank her for the help she's given."
The mage shook his head. "I'll spare you the details, but to be succinct; she taught us how to save a mana-based copy of the necessary memories, which will allow us to attune to a subset of Earth locations. Her presence is not required. In fact, she insisted that we proceed without her, as the Gellin have gone to rest for the night."
Must be nice. I'd trade ten Levels for a consistent sleep schedule. Rob internally frowned at himself, punting the envious thoughts away. No sour grapes. If the Empress helped me see Earth again, then I hope she sleeps like a baby for the rest of her life.
"One question," Keira interjected. "In your explanation, you stated that, without the Empress' assistance, it may have taken years to discover Earth. That is hardly the weeks or months you claimed in the past."
The group of dimension mages froze, embarrassment blooming on their features. They looked to the head mage for guidance, whose veneer of showmanship was deflating like a leaky balloon. "We were perhaps...optimistic."
"By years?"
"The previous estimate I put forth was one that assumed we would develop breakthroughs as we went along." His mouth widened into a sheepish grin. "As you can see, we, um, succeeded."
Keira raised an eyebrow. "Only with the timely assistance of a Leader." Her tone was calm, yet unyielding. "Rob is too grateful to point out this contradiction, so I suppose the task falls to me. You have also told us that you should be able to 'open' the window and let Rob send a letter home within the next week – is that more unfounded optimism?"
"No." The mage straightened his posture. "Now that we have located Earth, the rest is simply a matter of refining our spells and collecting reserves of mana. We are no longer blind, nor are we fumbling in the dark, and thus our progress moving forward shall be predictable and steady. This, I swear."
After a few seconds, Keira nodded. "Then I thank you for the wonderful boon you've granted to the man I love."
From behind, Malika giggled under her breath. Rob squeezed Keira's hand, gave her a warm smile, and faced the mages. "I'm ready whenever you are."
The tent thrummed with mana as the dimension mages formed a Mage Circle with Malika. It was no different from any other time they'd done so, yet the knowledge of what they were about to accomplish heightened the tension in the air to a fever pitch. Rob's pulse quickened, his throat tightening. He'd been disemboweled by monsters, decapitated by eldritch abominations, and none of those events made him a fraction as nervous as watching the dimension mages at work.
Minutes passed. Rob forced himself to be patient. Reaching across the boundaries of space and dimensions wasn't like heading to the store to pick up a carton of milk. It involved a level of spellcasting prowess that would take Rob decades of committed study to have even the slightest chance at grasping. Frankly, the fact that it was possible at all still beggared belief.
Maybe...maybe the mages were wrong. Not lying; just wrong. They could be overeager, sharing before they were actually ready, and they'd end the circle looking contrite and ashamed.
That was okay. No biggie. Rome wasn't built in a day, or...something. He could wait–
Creak.
It was the sound of a rusted hinge, of crumpling paper, of breaking bones, and more. A combination of all the noises things made when subjected to an external force. Like reality itself was groaning under the pressure.
Creeeak.
A thin, imperceptible line appeared at eye-level, dark as the endless void. Slowly, inch-by-inch, it widened.
CREEEAK.
It had become a rectangle. Two feet wide, three feet high. With a final CREAK, reality threw in the towel. The void dissipated, as if smoke blown away by a gust of wind, revealing...
Home.
Everything was as he remembered it. The same furniture with scuffed marks of wear-and-tear. The same living room where they'd watched movies each Friday. The same kitchen with a sink perpetually filled with dirty dishes. The same tacky wallpaper that his mom refused to change, and that he secretly enjoyed.
Identical. Like a portrait had been painted straight from his memories.
A tsunami of aching nostalgia surged through him. Rob didn't realize he was extending his hand until his fingertips were already brushing against the viewing window. Its surface felt solid, and for an instant he was terrified that this really was just a painting. Something invented to give him false hope.
Then he noticed that a window had been cracked open. Not the mages' window; the window inside his house. A small breeze blew inside, jostling a curtain ever so lightly. Just enough to make it move.
"It's real." Rob's voice was hoarse. "It's my home."
No one said anything. They allowed him his silence, a gesture which he greatly appreciated. Eventually, Rob took a deep breath, clenched his hands so that they wouldn't tremble, and looked at the dimension mages. "Thank you. I owe you...so much. Even if observing from afar ended up being the limit of what you could do, just seeing my house again like this is..."
He trailed off, unable to find words that were sufficient. Thankfully, the dimension mages seemed to understand. "You are most welcome, Lord Rob." The head mage smiled. "This is far from the limit of what we can do, however. Give us time, and this window shall open."
Rob nodded, choosing not to believe them. They were probably right, but on the off chance they weren't, he didn't want to look back on this moment with bitterness. Best to assume the worst and be grateful for what he already had.
As if drawn by a gravitational pull, his eyes drifted back towards the window. It was displaying a fixed point in the center of his home. "Can you switch perspectives? I want to check other rooms." His parents were likely asleep in their bedroom at this hour. Assuming they didn't sell the house out of grief and move, that is.
"I am afraid that isn't possible. We can transpose the viewing window to other specific locations that the Empress provided, but having it 'walk around', so to speak, requires finer control than we are yet capable of."
Yet, he says. Which means that with practice, they'll be able to. Rob placated himself with that notion. This was a minor setback, and he wouldn't let it get him down.
He especially wouldn't listen to that tiny voice in the back of his head, whispering that the reason he couldn't see his parents right now was because they were–
"Got it," Rob stated, in a wooden voice. "What other locations did the Empress pick out?"
The window's perspective blurred and shifted. Rob swallowed a gasp as an extremely familiar place was displayed before him. He'd seen it many, many times, even after coming to Elatra. It used to be at the top of his nightmare rotation, only ousted from its throne when Blights started coming into play.
In front of them was a small grassy lawn, surrounded by lecture halls in the near-distance. The place that had forever altered the course of his life.
"This is where it all started." Rob pointed to an empty spot in the middle of the field. "Portal opened up. Right there. Saturated with darkness. Chains shot out, tried to grab at Jason. I pushed him out of the way, and...the rest is history."
Silence reigned once more. After a few seconds, Orn'tol stirred. The young Ranger opened his mouth, preparing to say what would undoubtedly be some platitude reassuring Rob over his noble sacrifice.
"The grass truly is green."
Rob burst out laughing. He kept going until he was short of breath, wheezing as the others looked at him with eyes full of concern. "I'm okay," he managed to cough, once the laughter had died down to snickers. "Thanks, Orn'tol. I needed that."
"You're very welcome?" Orn'tol exchanged confused glances with the rest of Riardin's Rangers. "I am unsure of what I did to assist you, yet it's good to see you in high spirits nonetheless."
"Sometimes a little silliness is just what the doctor ordered." Rob offered him a high-five, which the boy accepted with zeal. They returned their gazes to the viewing window, Rob tilting his head as he peered closer. "Hmm. That's weird."
"What do you mean?"
"There's no people. It's early evening, but college students have the worst sleeping patterns on the face of the planet. Trust me; I'm speaking from experience. Usually you'd see a dozen partygoers strung out on energy drinks racing around now."
"Perhaps this location is known as a place of danger," Keira posited. "I would certainly be hesitant to tread where a portal of darkness sprang from the aether and kidnapped a civilian."
Rob watched the viewing window for signs of life, finding none. "Could be. Parents probably pulled their kids out after what happened to me. Then either the government condemns the area, or enough money is lost that the college goes bankrupt." He snorted. "Would be the least of what it deserves, considering the tuition fees. Bloodsucking vampires."
"People on Earth drink blood?"
Normally, Rob would have played along with their confusion, but there were more important things to focus on. "Can you change this to the next location from my memories?" he asked the dimension mages. "How many are there, anyway?"
"Five in total. One moment, please."
The window's perspective blurred, shifted, and reformed. Now it was displaying a city sidewalk, its view positioned right outside the best god damn burger joint in existence. Rob didn't care what anyone else said; two greasy slabs of beef squeezed between two sesame-seed buns was the absolute pinnacle of culinary delight. So what if his palette was 'like a five-year old's?' Wasn't his fault that delicious things were delicious.
Belatedly, he realized that his memory of this restaurant had been strong enough for the Gellin Empress to choose it as a point of reference for interdimensional portal magic. That...yeah, that tracked. Aside from the burgers, he had fond memories of sitting at the outside patio with Jason and his folks, drinking Minty Fresh Phantasma and inhaling cheesy fries as they mocked his dietary preferences. Good times.
He was about to explain what this place meant to him when a human casually walked past the viewing window.
She was a normal working woman like any other. Tired eyes, a purse slung over her shoulder, and dressed for lukewarm weather. A cell phone was held in her right hand, her eyes glued to some form of social media. She strode past the window without a care in the world, visible for merely a second before disappearing from view.
To the Elatrans, it was like a horror movie jumpscare. All of them froze. Several gasped. Elder Alessia grimaced. Faelynn muttered "a world of Humans" in a hushed tone. The only exceptions were Elder Duran and the Soul Surgeon, who crept closer to get a better look, their eyes shimmering with curiosity.
In contrast, Rob let out a sigh of overwhelming relief. That bored, everyday woman was exactly what he'd needed to set him at ease. Earth hasn't completely gone to shit behind my back. People are still living their lives.
As he watched, a few more humans walked in front of the window. A middle-aged man, a young boy with his mother, and an old woman with a walking cane. The old woman pivoted straight into the burger joint, Rob internally praising her good taste.
"W-well," the head mage stuttered. He paused, cleared his throat, then started anew. "As you can see, the viewing window is imperceptible to those with low Levels of Sense Mana. Naturally, this will not be the case for a portal that can be interacted with from both sides."
"Dangerous," Meyneth commented. "I would advise that you conceal this type of spell for as long as you are able. The viewing window especially."
"Why is that?"
"If this window cannot be sensed by those with low Levels of Sense Mana, then that makes it an ideal tool for spying on non-Mages. In your haste to glimpse into the world of another dimension, you have inadvertently developed a field of magic that puts every nation in Elatra at risk of subterfuge. People have been assassinated for much less."
The mages blanched. "We are nothing more than simple researchers," the head mage protested, in a faltering voice. "Who besides a madwoman like the Dragon Queen would stoop so low as to threaten noncombatants?"
Keira averted her eyes, pointedly examining the floor.
"We can discuss matters of life and death at a later time," Duran interjected. He gestured to the viewing window with the demeanor of a child in a toy story. "There's a world of discoveries to explore! Take a look at those structures the Earth Humans have built – they resemble the buildings within Human territory, yet small differences set them apart."
Duran ooooh'd as another person walked past the viewing window. "So many humans are ambling about despite the late hour. Is this area a well-traveled location in your home city, Rob?"
"This is around the level of street traffic you should expect for early evening. If it were daytime, you'd see a hundred people per minute."
Duran aaaah'd. Before he could launch into a series of questions, Zamira beat him to it. "Pardon me if this comes across as an insult," she began, hesitantly. "But Earth Humans appear marginally...uncoordinated. It is hard for me to describe the notion, yet when I watch them move, they appear as if they're liable to fall over at any moment."
They look normal to me, Rob almost said, before remembering that Earth's normal wasn't Elatra's normal. "That's called being permanently Level 1." He shrugged. "They've all got crap stats. Except athletes, I guess."
Zamira stared at the human passerby with obvious sympathy. "My condolences."
Does Earth seem like a world of cripples to her? Rob wondered. Even Utility Class users have the option to put a couple points into Dexterity and Perception. That's not counting the natural stat boosts they gain as they grow up, either. And when combined with Vitality and healing magic, it means that people in Elatra tend to age gracefully.
Rob tried to think of the last time he'd seen an Elatran with the same frailty as that old human woman with her walking cane. The oldest person he'd met so far was the Fiend High Soulseer, and in spite of being positively ancient – and blind – the dude could get around fine. Elder Duran was having health problems, but that was only after suffering from severe Corruption poisoning for weeks on end. An incident like that would've landed an Earth human in long-term hospice care.
Actually, no, that was wrong. It would've just killed them.
"We should switch to the next location," Rob said, preempting any further questions. "There's still two more left." Maybe I can see...no. Keep your expectations in check.
He was right to do so. Rob's heart sank as the viewing window solidified once again, revealing battered, empty streets. Half the buildings had collapsed to rubble, as if visited by a wrecking crew with an axe to grind. He recognized this spot as the street leading up to his favorite movie theater on the other side of the city. There'd been good times here, as well.
Although not anymore. The theater's roof had caved in, and half the letters in its ostentatious PRIME CINEMA logo were missing. It would take years to rebuild – assuming someone was willing to invest millions of dollars into what was essentially a ghost town.
"This..." He ran his hand down his face, aware of everyone gazing at him with pity. "As you can probably infer, this isn't normal. In the past–"
Bang.
Rob practically jumped out of his skin at the abrupt sound of gunfire. At first he thought the shot had come from outside, but no, it was both too distant and too close for that. The noise also sounded different from the rifles that the Dwarven Thunder Rod wielders employed.
A series of repeated bangs swept his thoughts away. Everyone watched in astonishment as a crew of Earth military soldiers ran into view from a side street, desperately fleeing the eight-legged Blightspawn that was hot on their tails. The abomination was more of an amalgamation of flesh and limbs than anything resembling a living creature, and the way it skittered made Rob reconsider if spiders were really that bad in comparison.
"Keep firing!" one of the men commanded, his voice sounding like it was coming from the bottom of a lake. The soldiers blasted their assault rifles in a retreating offensive, peppering the abomination with a hailstorm of bullets. Their response was swift, their aim was true, and it did not matter. The Blightspawn bulldozed through the rain of bullets as if it was a light drizzle, the creature's five cavernous mouths wailing for blood and sustenance.
It was nearly upon them when an explosive rocketed in from the opposite side street, knocking the Blightspawn off its many feet. The reprieve was temporary, but it was just long enough for the soldiers to escape unharmed. Unfortunately, the creature was also mostly unharmed, sporting minor injuries despite a direct missile strike to the torso. With a chorus of screams that prickled Rob's ears, the abomination continued its chase, batting away a second missile as it resumed the chase with renewed fervor.
Then it was gone, having left the window's range of sight. Distant sounds of battle grew quieter, the gunshots and explosions becoming more faint as predator and prey ran deeper into the ruined city.
Rob closed his eyes. He said nothing for half a minute, allowing himself time to process what he'd seen.
"Okay." He opened his eyes, nodding. "This is fine."
Keira laid a hand on his shoulder, struggling with what to say. "Rob...you don't need to–"
"Hold it in? Bottle up my emotions?" A wry chuckle escaped his throat. "Honestly, I'm not as affected as I thought I'd be. The Blight dropped one too many cryptic hints for me to be surprised, anyway. At this point I'm just glad that Earth hasn't been completely overrun. Some parts of the city might be fucked up, but not all of it is."
He narrowed his eyes. "The biggest thing I'm worried about is the Blightspawn itself. You saw those weapons the humans were using, right? Think of them as substantially upgraded versions of the Thunder Rods. They should've put a real dent in a fully-grown Blight, let alone one of its spawn."
"Perhaps the creatures have gained a defensive Skill?" Duran theorized. "What we witnessed appears consistent with other damage reduction Skills such as Tough Skin or Heat Resistance. I would surmise that the Blight has learned something akin to – for example – Thunder Rod Resistance."
Rob paused. Elatra didn't have a specified 'Bullet Resistance' Skill, but that was because conventional firearms had been removed from the system for balancing purposes. The Blight wouldn't give two shits about balance. They'd cheerfully grant themselves Bullet Resistance, Missile Resistance, and whatever else tickled their fancy.
And the more Earth fought back, the more resistant they'd become.
"...This doesn't change anything," Rob eventually concluded. "Earth is a big boy planet. It'll figure something out. In the meantime, we'll clean up our problems here and be ready to help if the Blight's still around by then."
"You're sure?" Keira asked. Two words that held so much intent. 'Are you sure you'll be alright? Are you sure Elatra should remain your primary concern? Are you sure you don't want to head home the instant the dimension mages create a working portal?'
Rob gave her a thumbs-up. "I'm sure. And I know you'll worry about me regardless, but I promise I'm feeling fine."
Or maybe he was just numb, and an avalanche of emotions would bury him when he least expected it. The good news was that was a problem for future-Rob to deal with. Present-Rob had one last area to investigate.
I'd be satisfied with seeing my old bedroom intact, he thought, as the dimension mages altered the viewing window for the last time. I have strong memories there, right? It should be a candidate. Those late night Netflix binges were uh...riveting. Yeah.
The window finalized.
Rob felt the strength leave his body.
Some parts of what he was seeing were incongruous. Strange details that he'd need to figure out soon. All of it took a hard backseat to the one sight in the room that truly mattered.
Jason was alive.
He was at his house that Rob had visited so often. Alive. Surrounded by people. Alive. Chatting away. Alive. Gesturing in that exaggerated manner he often used. Alive.
Smiling.
Alive.
A dam broke. Silent tears began streaming down Rob's face. Thoughts cut out, leaving only the realization that his best friend since childhood, the sole person he'd have trusted with his life before meeting Riardin's Rangers, the man whose place he'd taken when the gods picked a new chew toy...
Was alive.
"Hey, man." Rob's smile was the most genuine it had been in a long time. "Been a while."
At that moment, almost as if he could hear him, Jason grinned.
​
--
​
Author's Note:
When I was writing Chapter 199, I was mildly annoyed that Rob didn't reach 200 Vitality on Chapter 200. That would've been hilariously coincidental. But if I had to choose between that chapter or this one for a big milestone...I think I like this better.
Happy Chapter 200, everyone. Thanks for reading and staying on this journey with me.

Last night, I finished my 4-episodes-a-night binge watch of The Americans. I think this is one of the great series of all time, and there’s one simple reason why.
I feel like I was abandoned at the train station. I feel the loss of the family, the breaking of the unit. I feel the heartbreak of best friends torn apart. I feel the sinking, desperate realization that life will never be what it was. That “what it was” itself kind of never was. And my time with the Jennings and Stan is over.
Very few series have left me shaken like this in its wake. Breaking Bad, The Sopranos, and The Wire fit that bill. But none (even BB) had my breath frozen and tears welling like the excruciating confrontation in the parking garage where everything was on the line. I’ll never forget it, and the overall complete immersion into a world that, unlike the experience of movies/TV when you’re a child, is almost never achieved.
Had to get that out. Maybe you can relate. Cheers and do svidaniya.

I'm about to be 30 and live near Monterey.
Yes, I'm a stereotypical millenial in that I've lived with my dad way too long, I know this is about 8 years too late. Please don't make fun of me. It's a long story.
My current job is cost accounting/managing accounts payable among other accounting things.
I want to leave the area I grew up in after I get one more bonus check this year at my job.
I have a degree in accounting so I know I could get some kind of accounting job in San Diego that pays at least $70,000 (after a quick job search for accounting jobs in the area).
Currently have $165,000 saved up (as well as $105,000 in 401k).
If I move here and have a job that pays 70k, would I just be bleeding money the whole time and be better suited to go somewhere else? Could you save any money with that amount? I'm not expecting a nice apartment or anything.
Keep in mind I'm a frugal person and don't have any streaming subscriptions/don't drink coffee everyday and can live on chicken/eggs/peanut butter sandwiches if need be.
Thanks for any advice.

Feeling a bit like ground hogs day. I posted a few times in March in the week my grandma was on hospice and the community was so supportive.
My father, 84, has been on dialysis for 3 years which is a long stretch. He recently got diagnosed with skin cancer too and has lost 25 pounds since October. My older brother is his prime caretaker and seems to know things are progressing- my father refused dialysis today. He has until Friday to either go back or stop, which means hospice care.
The situation is complicated cause my parents are separated but living in the same house- my brother is his prime medical caretaker though and lives near but not in the house. I’m so scared about what hospice will look like this time around and have barely been able to process the last experience, let alone with my father who is stubborn and going to Probably deteriorate really quickly if he quits dialysis.
I’m sure I’m not alone in this experience of two hospice experiences just months apart but I have so much stress and anxiety about this process all over again (even though hospice was our saving grace) that I’m scared to even see my father again before he passes which I know makes me a horrible person.

Hey guys and gals,
Had my 2022 WRX base model 6MT since August 2022. Only mods are Grimspeed panel filter, charcoal delete, Cobb accessport running 91 octane tune. I don’t plan to change anything else for the foreseeable future due to CARB laws. I want it to look stock under the hood.
I think the Cobb 91 tune isn’t ACN 91 judging by the knock readings I have seen. I’ve been mixing a couple gallons of 96 octane super with 91 to help the CA 91 and eliminate knock sensor readings.
The only problem doing this is there is only one station near me with Sunoco 96 at the pump. It’s not a huge deal because I have 4 cars and the WRX is my fun car, but I’d like more options
I’ve been thinking to change over to either Drunkmann OTS tune for ACN 91 or possibly E30 because I have an E85 station right around the corner from my house and it’s much more common than super unleaded gas here.
I like the power level of the Cobb tune with 91, but my concern is that drunkmann ACN 91 will lose some performance, hence I’m thinking E30 because I’m sick of mixing 96 octane super unleaded snd E85 is common.
I haven’t seen a Cobb ethanol sensor for these cars and I’ve been reading E85 can run between 51 and 83 percent. With 96 super unleaded and 91 CA, mixing gas is easy. Seems like it can be a bit more variable with E85.
Sorry for all the text, but the question is with the range of ethanol content and no sensor, is mixing E30 going to be a PITA or just take minimum E85 51 percent and use than to make the calculation? My thought process is you’re guaranteed 51 percent so use that for mixing.
Thanks for any info or experience you can provide.

25F and have been seeing 40M for a handful of dates now. All of our dates so far have been close to his neighborhood and a ~40 minute to an hour travel time from my neighborhood. On every date I have handled my own transportation.
On our most recent date as we were about to part ways he was going to call his own Uber and asked how far away mine would be. I said I wasn't going to call an Uber, I'd just take the subway. He looked surprised and asked if I was sure. In my head I'm like well I can't afford a $60 Uber I'm a student living off loans but I just tell him yes. He walks me to my station and says bye.
Am I in the wrong for feeling like he should have offered to catch me a taxi/uber. I think what particularly struck me is that he does not take the subway and has said it's because he does not feel safe on it, even during the day. It was 2 am, I was wearing a skirt, was definitely not sober, and was at least 40 minutes away from home plus a 10 minute walk from the nearest subway stop to my apartment.
I have personally called my friends Ubers in similar situations just bc I wanted to make sure they got home safe so it's not even some gendered "he should do this bc he's the man" but that I feel like it would have just been the decent thing to do for someone you care about and have been seeing for a month? Especially if it's no dirt off your back financially which I'm fairly certain it is not for him. It felt cold and made me question if this is someone I would even want to date anymore and I am considering ending it because of that. Is this an extreme reaction?
TLDR; date let me take the subway–which he has called dangerous and unridable– at 2 am without offering to call me an uber. considering ending it because of that but don't know if I'm overreacting

Three New Terrifying True Scary Tales
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Number One: The Pool
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Now, this happened a very long time ago. I am not going to mention when or where though and I am submitting it anonymously. I don’t want people going back and finding out more about it and then lashing out of me.
​
I was 13 years old and my brother was 11. As I mentioned, this happened a long time ago and I think today, not a lot of parents would put a 13 year old in charge of an 11 year old. But this was not unusual at all back then. In fact, I was looking after my little brother all the time before either of us even hit 10 years old.
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After a while, of course, always keeping my eye on him began to get very annoying. It interfered with my hanging out with friends. It was quite a drag when I would try to talk to girls. It was just a pain in the ass, really.
​
Anyway, one day during a really hot summer, our parents decided to drop us both off at the local swimming pool for the day. My dad had to work and my mom had errands and stuff to run plus work do to do for the church. It was so hot and there was no way we could afford air conditioning. We had one old fan in the house and a sprinkler in the yard that we could go play in. But the swimming pool was the much better option.
​
Of course the pool was very crowded. Lots of families would drop their kids off there during the summertime. And of course, even though I knew it already, my mom stressed to me, “Keep an eye on your little brother at all times.”
​
Some of my friends were at the pool too. I got to talking to them and they told me about this new girl who moved into town. She would be starting school that fall and supposedly she was really hot. So of course, I wanted to check her out. I knew the lifeguards would be watching my brother in the water, so he would be fine.
​
I went with the guys and the girl was really cute. My buddies all dared me to approach her, which was admittedly a brave thing for a 13 year old boy to do. Of course, I couldn’t chicken out in front of them, so I did just that.
​
She was a very sweet girl. We actually ended up talking for a little while. Her parents were at the pool though, and they called her back after too long. So I went back to the water to see how my little brother was doing.
​
The only problem was that I couldn’t see him anywhere in the water. This was a small town in a rural area, so although I said the pool was crowded, it wasn’t like a water park is crowded though. I should have easily been able to pick him out of the water. He just wasn’t there.
​
I went and searched around the area surrounding the pool and didn’t see him there either. My heart started beating faster and I began panicking. I went to the building where the showers and concession stand were. He wasn’t there either. You couldn’t leave that pool without going through that building, though. I asked the attendant if a 11 year old boy had left the pool on his own in the previous hour and he told me no.
​
I then went to the lifeguards and my buddies. I thought maybe there was a chance that I had missed him. It’s easy to occasionally miss someone in a crowd. The lifeguards ordered everyone out of the pool. Fortunately, there were no drowned children in the pool. Unfortunately, my brother was nowhere to be found outside of the pool.
​
The lifeguards had to call my mother at the church. I had never before lost track of my little brother like this before. I had no idea what to expect when she showed up. I was only thankful that the police were already at the pool or she probably would have whipped my ass right there in front of the entire pool.
​
The trouble I got into at home isn’t something that I want to go into very much. My butt very much has PTSD from the experience. But that was minor compared to the fear I felt for my little brother. Hell, I didn’t even have time to feel guilty although that I knew that I was. I was only concerned for him and wondered what would happen.
​
All day and night, I expected the police to bring him home. But that didn’t happen. I expected it the next day too. But it didn’t happen.
​
The town organized a search to look for him. I kept expecting to hear from them that they had found him. But that didn’t happen either.
​
After about a week of my brother not being found, I began fearing for the worst. I began thinking that he was dead. And I was terrified every waking moment of my life, expecting to absolutely hear the news that his dead body was found.
​
Nearly two weeks after the disappearance, we got a phone call from the police. They had found my brother and thankfully, he was alive. But unfortunately, that’s not the whole story.
​
Remember the attendant telling me that no boy had left on his own? Well that’s because the boy left with one of the lifeguards who was getting off duty. He had lured my brother out of the pool and into his car with promises of ice cream, something he and I rarely ever got. And my brother went to his house with him.
​
For all of that time, he kept my little brother locked up in his basement. He didn’t do anything sexually to him, thank God. But there was a lot of mental and some physical torment when my brother wouldn’t do what he was told to you. But the scariest part for him was thinking he would never get out and be with his family again.
​
Here is another weird part. The lifeguard wasn’t an adult. He did this while his parents were out of town for a few weeks. They came back early and caught him. And if you think I felt bad for my parents’ punishing me, what they did to him had to be legendary. The police thought he was either planning on killing or releasing my brother before his parents got home. But no one ever knew for sure.
​
He had to live with it without much help for a long time. Mental health assistance had a very bad stigma back then. But we’re both still alive today and he forgave me a long time ago.
​
Number Two: Taking the Garbage Out
​
A few weeks ago I went outside at around 3am to move the garbage to the curb since pickup would be in the morning. I often do this in the middle of the night. I just tend to keep weird hours and as the weather warms up for the summer I find the warm nights preferable to the sweltering days.
​
I’m not worried about bothering my neighbors since I don’t use noisy bins and all of the houses right next to me are currently empty. I actually find the quiet of the neighborhood at night quite relaxing.
​
Unfortunately since I don’t use bins animals are able to get into the bags a bit easier and while this doesn’t happen often it had happened on this night. So I was outside picking up the strewn around garbage and putting it into another bag when the silence of the night was suddenly broken by multiple police sirens.
​
At first they seemed distant and while they startled me it was not at all unheard of to hear sirens at night here. But usually it would be one in the distance. As I listened, still bagging the garbage, I could tell it was multiple sirens and they were getting closer. Then just as suddenly as it started it stopped again. There was just silence. By the time they stopped they sounded maybe four blocks away.
​
For a moment the night was silent again and I began hauling the bags to the curb when the neighborhood dogs began barking all at once. It was like every dog in the neighborhood had gotten the cue to start barking. Many were even howling. It continued for maybe a minute and once again it just stopped as suddenly as it had started.
​

I realized I hadn’t heard any barking or howling while the sirens were going and that’s normally how it would work. These dogs had started up separately from the sirens and just stopped all at once. It just wasn’t normal. I went back to the side of the house to grab more bags when the silence was broken a third time. 

​
Just a single chime in the night. Like someone getting a phone notification. This sound wasn’t blocks away. This sound was here. RIGHT HERE. No more than feet away. As I said, the houses around me are empty.
​
I was done. The rest of the garbage would wait until morning. I didn’t see anyone close by but that just made it worse. There was someone close by that I couldn’t see. I immediately went into the house to leave the garbage for the morning.
​
I don’t know if these things were related. If the cops had been chasing someone who’s fleeing had caused the dogs to bark. Someone who received a message on their phone as they approached my house. Or if it was all just a coincidence. But I won’t be taking the garbage out at 3am anymore.
​
A Commuter’s Nightmare
William M.
06/30/2021
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Back in the 80s, I worked at the Irwin Memorial Blood Bank in San Francisco while living and commuting from Oakland, CA
​
My job as Registrar, took me all over Northern California, during Blood Drives at hospitals, clinics, major corporations, etc., where we would sometimes witness firsthand, the dead, being placed on gurneys, running out of the Coroner's or Medical Examiner’s rear doors, and down the sidewalks, because they simply didn’t have enough room or staff inside the morgues to process them. Mortuaries were having problems too due to the massive overload where deceased loved ones were admitted but not processed or interred for months or even years at a time.
​
I remember watching the News and reading newspaper accounts of E.R.s in hospitals, clinics, etc. so clogged with patients, that 1 in 10 would die waiting to just get in to see a Dr. It was a Public Health and Safety nightmare. It was a National disgrace. It was politically orchestrated mass murder. It was the B purge of the ‘80s and ‘90s.
​
I remember, starting work early on one of many Blood Drives (the A.I.D.S. epidemic was just getting started) and having to catch the first B.A.R.T. (Bay Area Rapid Transit) train out of the station at about 4:00 am, where morning after morning I would witness hundreds of people sleeping on the benches, or the sidewalks, or on the streets outside, waiting for it to open.
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Hundreds of others would be seen walking around like zombies in the early morning freeze amid the concomitant yelling, screaming, moaning, begging, and pleading, all of it looking like a newsreel of the death camps at Auschwitz-Birkenau.
​
Many times, I was woken at home in the middle of the night, to the sounds of people howling and cursing outside my window at some real or imagined threat, until either the police came, which usually took hours because they were spread so thin, or some tenant, or other, ran them off.
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I remember the time I woke up to the sound of a woman’s voice begging in the early morning cold for someone to help her. She kept repeating it over and over growing weaker and weaker until it was little more than a whisper.
By the time I’d gotten up, armed myself with the steel-reinforced baton I’d purchased at a Police Supply store, and ran the 5 floors down to the ground floor, I found her sitting in a taxi shivering from the 42-degree drizzle coming in off the Pacific. The cabbie told me it was alright; she was just cold and needed someplace to rest and warm up; He’d drop her off at one of the nearby shelters.
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At the time, I was living in a local Residence Hall on Lake Merrit in Oakland, California which was little more than a converted Hotel from the San Francisco/Oakland Gilded Age of the late 1920s. It had 5 floors and a penthouse with a capacity of about 200. I never saw it get much beyond about 30 residents. It sported a full kitchen, dining area, big screen tv viewing room, swimming pool, and a recreation room with pool, foosball, and darts.
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I lived with a friend, at the time, on the 5th floor just under the penthouse. There was an elevator, but like most refurbs, it didn’t work. That meant we'd have to climb 10 flights of stairs every day to reach our room. The best part was that we had the entire floor to ourselves. I guess nobody wanted to climb that many stairs. Because we were both runners, it was a little like running the 900 feet to the top of Angel Island, running across The Golden Gate Bridge and back, or running the 3.4 miles around Lake Merrit twice a day.
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Because there was no air-conditioning, all the windows were left open during the summer months, but along with whatever cool air the San Francisco/Oakland Bay would bring through the gaping nearly wall-length vault ceilinged windows, it was always accompanied by the teeming, screaming City of Oakland street din: cabbies, buses, cars, trucks, vans, motorcycles, scooters, police sirens, ambulance, fire department, pedestrians, hustlers, druggies, break-dancers, prostitutes the homeless, et al. Day or night, winter or summer, it was like living in a jet engine test lab, somewhere on the 9th level of hell.
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Of course, we could always close the windows against the noise 5 stories below. But if it was summer, with all the humidity coming off the bay, we’d roast like 2 suckling pigs in our own sweat even if we used a fan.
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One night after a particularly grueling day at work, I came home, climbed Mount Everest (or at least K-2) to my steaming little abattoir, tore off my sports jacket, shirt, and tie, and fell into a coma-like sleep only to awake some 4 hours later to the sound of someone slamming a door, over and over, seemingly as hard as they could. It was about 2:00 am and raining so hard the water was pouring through the open window and flooding the floor and carpet. The sound was coming somewhere down the hall from one of the other units.
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After about the 15th or 16th slam to my inner ear, I was up, as in a trance, running like a lunatic from unit to unit and window to window, covering the entire southside of the 5th floor; battening down the hatches, and getting drenched in the process. It was, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating. I was supposed to get up in 2 hours and commute to work in the upper peninsula.
Having unconsciously completed this Sisyphean task and realizing that there was zero chance of getting any sleep, I donned my foul weather gear, equipped my trusty baton (I used to tuck its 2 ½-foot length up my sleeve when running), and headed out the front door to Lake Merrit which was just outside the main entrance. From there, I trotted to the sidewalk circling the lake, and began to run.
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As I ran counterclockwise against a torrential rain with a gale-force wind broken only by the occasional intermittent rainbow-hued lightning flashes which blinded me to almost everything around me, I almost ran into someone up ahead who was walking in the same direction.
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He was hunched over against the wind and rain and wearing a long heavy winter coat. Unusual for that time of year, I thought. Whenever I would run in public, I always made it a courtesy to let people know when I was approaching especially from behind. I’d blurt out a perfunctory:
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“Excuse me.” Followed by a conciliatory:
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“Sorry.”
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But apparently, the person ahead either didn’t hear me or didn’t care because, when I was about 6 feet from him, he suddenly turned around, exposing a darkened contorted face, jagged teeth, and a guttural growl that would have stopped a charging 600-pound Grizzly.
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The sheer force of the malevolence emitted from this inhuman thing almost made me stop, but because I was moving so fast, the inertia along with the gale force wind and lightning strikes propelled me past him (or it), and fingering my steel-reinforced baton, I, in turn, steeled my nerve and kept running. I looked back only once to reassure myself that he (or it) wasn’t following.
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Running on the leeward side now, with the rain at my back, I ran past a group of men in a circle smoking or drinking or doing whatever noxious or illicit thing I imagined, when, feeling charged with my own adrenalin, or the anger and resentment at that woman’s searing pleas for help, or the spook I’d almost run into, or just the gross injustices thrust upon the world in that dank, dark and dangerous time, I almost stopped, baton in hand, intending to take on the whole group: I may go down, I told myself, but at least I would take one or two with me.
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Just then, the lightning struck particularly close to where I and they stood and the sheer blinding flash and concussive boom shook all of us enough to break up their conspiratorial collaboration and my righteous crusade; just enough, that is, to shove me headlong around the next bend, to the long straight full out dash to the front doors, the 5 floors, 10 landings, and 50 risers to rain-sodden home.
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To get to work every day, I'd have to commute to the upper peninsula by using 3 buses, 1 train, and 1 cab and after a 10 or 12 or sometimes 14-hour day, I would have to take the same to get back. This meant that if I didn’t go out, make dinner, eat, or watch tv, I just might get about 4 hours sleep. Commuting took between 2 to 3 hours, one way.
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Once on the way home, almost every stop was crowded with commuters. I was told that it was because there were so many buses down for repair. The ones still running were so filled beyond capacity, that the shocks and springs were sitting on the chassis, and stop after stop proved nearly impossible to take on any more passengers. Still, and despite the few getting out at every stop, the driver would take on even more and just pack them in.
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I remember him yelling for people to get back behind the yellow line over and over. By then, he was long past any semblance of reason; his patience frayed to a single maniacal thought, his voice raspier and raspier, his manner, more and more brusk.
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I can still see when he finally lost it; jumping up, out of his seat, with a nickel-plated 38 Caliber Revolver pointing at one of the passengers; an elderly woman, screaming from the top of his lungs:
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“Get back behind the yellow line!”
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I can still hear the woman begging the driver:
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“Please...” while the passengers behind were practically trampling each other to get out of the line of fire.
I remember the sad, exhausted urgency in her voice; she really was trying to move back, but how could she, an old woman, do that with all those people blocking her way? Everyone knew this was an impossible task; everyone except the maddened driver. He just kept glaring, and bellowing with his gun out pointed right at her and the other passengers.
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"Back up and make room" he yelled.
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‘Or else what?’ I thought. ‘You're gonna kill an old woman?'
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Getting up out of my seat, pushing my way through the throng who were pushing against me to get away, I managed to get within about 6 feet from the front when, roaring through the din and my fear and anger, I ordered the bus driver to:
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“Put the gun down!” And again, with even more rage and authority:
“Put the gun down, now!”
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The bus driver shocked that it might be a cop, or worse, shakily, put his gun back in his concealed carry holster and hypnotically sat back down. He resumed driving without saying another word. I got out at the next stop, along with the elderly woman. She was so shaken, that she busted out crying. I held her still fuming despite the close call because I would now have to wait for another bus and after that, 2 more; the train and a cab to get home. I wasn’t going to make it until well after 8:00 pm. As soon as I got home, I reported the bus number and the driver to Muni.
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Many of the commuters I'd see day to day, or share a seat with were victims of the purge just trying to get out of the rain or the cold, or the wind, or the sun, even for just a little while. For them, it was easing the agony of living on the street, even just a little. For many of us regular commuters, during those dark times, it proved to be the same.
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On one of the final buses that would take me to the train and across the bay, I remember standing, with about 50 others, on Market Street waiting. Like ours, stop after stop was so packed with people, some were standing in the street because there was simply not enough room on the sidewalk. The ones in the street would stay where they were for fear of losing their place and missing their connection and having to wait another hour, or more, to catch another.
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Because the rapidly descending elevation of the southbound streets ending at Market Street from the upper peninsula were so steep and the transverse angle of the turn so sharp, some of the buses would skirt the edge of the curb, sometimes rolling up over it onto the sidewalk putting them dangerously close to the commuters waiting on the other side.
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If there were any people in the street, especially the old or the infirm, they would either have to get out of the way and lose their place in line or hope the bus driver stopped before completing the turn. Most of the drivers would. Once there was one who didn’t.
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I remember the television and newspaper account about an elderly woman waiting at one of the stops during the pm rush hour. When the bus made the oblique turn way too fast at 25 miles per hour she was either too close to the edge or standing in the street when she was hit by the side view mirror across the face and the left side of her head.
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She went down under the wheels and her body got hung up under the chassis. The bus driver too full of passengers to stop, or late for his break, or just too coked up to notice, kept on heading for the Embarcadero before he realized something was wrong. By then, the woman had been dragged over a quarter of a mile. No one knew for sure whether the concussion from the mirror or the relentless dragging was the cause of death. I guess it didn’t matter to her anymore, one way or the other. It mattered to a lot of those who witnessed the whole thing though; screaming and yelling, block after block, trying to get the bus driver to stop.
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To get across the Bay to San Francisco from Oakland or back, one alternative to the nightmare bus commute was the B.A.R.T (Bay Area Rapid Transit). It was quiet, clean, air-conditioned, and fast. Traveling under the Bay, it could span the 13 miles in minutes. Once I’d reach the train station, by bus, from the Oakland side, I’d descend one of the many street-level entries to the below-ground turnstiles which led to the train platform. Of course, there were always hundreds of derelicts, homeless, hustlers, etc., hanging out by the turnstiles waiting for their chance to slip through and get on any one of the many trains that serviced the Bay Area, but sometimes, especially after a scuffle with B.A.R.T. Security or the San Francisco/Oakland Police, they’d scatter to the winds (or the shadows as it were) until everything calmed down and then they'd be back at it again, day and night.
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Almost every week I'd hear about someone falling, or being pushed, or jumping down onto the third rail, which would either short-circuit the line and knock out the power or if it was particularly grisly, halt service entirely. Because service resumption could take hours, waiting passengers would have to go back up and out onto the street and catch another train, take a cab or a bus or just walk or, as was often the case for me, run.
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Once, I remember running to the next stop when I was ascending to the upper peninsula because the previous connection didn’t show up which meant it would have added another 45 minutes to my commute. The choice was obvious and inevitable: I could either
“wait to be late” or go for it. I chose the latter.
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You just can't imagine what it’s like to run at a 20-degree angle uphill for about 2 miles while wearing dress slacks, dress shoes, a white shirt and tie, and a sports jacket, in San Francisco, during the summer, with the humidity until you’ve tried it. It’s, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating.
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Running, I came upon a stand-alone, transmission shop, right in the middle of a residential area. The owners must have paid a pretty penny to get away with that one. There were police cars, the fire department, a metro ambulance, the San Francisco Chronicle, and a marked County Coroner’s Office vehicle scattered around the shop.
Some people along with some of the employees: their first names embroidered on their shirts, were standing on the sidewalk just outside the property watching. They’d been there for about an hour when I stopped to ask one of them (Bob) what happened.
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Wearily he said:
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“The girl who worked in the office answering the phone and typing up orders was shot to death by her boyfriend. The boyfriend got away but she was still down there being processed. God, she was only 24 years old. They’ll catch him, though. He hasn’t got a chance.”
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'Nope,' I thought.
'In this town, I don’t expect he would.'
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I was late again when I got home. Vaulting the 5 floors to reach our loft, I held my friend close, the entire night. She was ok with that. So was I.=

I am being medically retired from the military. Initially when I found this out my wife and I told my parents we plan on moving back to the same city as them so they can enjoy being part of their grandchildren’s lives. They were so excited about this, decked out rooms for our kids, and we were so excited to be close to family again. They have had long lucrative careers and are planning on retiring when I move back to spend as much time as they can as a family.
They live in a very high COL area and is in the top 5 wealthiest counties in the US. After visiting recently i realized I really don’t like it. Its snooty, people are self centered, the infrastructure is falling apart because its so over crowded, and few people give back to the community. With my experience i can likely get a job in the 100-130k range here.
Where I currently live I’m not a huge fan partially because I associate it with a lot of negative military experiences and I wanted to escape them. However the COL here is extremely low, its rapidly developing and self sustaining (covid barely affected this place). I also have been offered multiple jobs making 130-170k. This plus my pension/benefits/tax breaks would be a stupid amount of money in that area. I’ve made 25-35k base pay plus entitlements a year for the past 6 years while active duty and lived very comfortably. The idea of nearly 8x that is insane. I envision a great school district, paid off house, cars and selfishly a membership to the best golf club in town.
….but my children would miss out on their grandparents, and my parents would miss out on them. I want my parents at my kids baseball games, concerts and milestones. Not to mention i want to be with my parents as well as they are up there in age. On the flip side the money would be life changing.
Also, wife’s parents are a factor in this. She loves them, however they emotionally abuse her and steal from us. Both of them are addicts. She wants to get away from them as well and she says when she is with my parents its like she gets to have all the family moments she missed out on as a kid.
Its a ton of money, but i know i cant put a price on love, family and memories. Just feel absolutely torn.
What’s your guy’s opinion? What would you guy’s do? Anyone had similar situations?

My wife and I moved into a new apartment recently and don’t have much experience with second floors. We started to notice that the floor flexes when we both are near each other. Not even like side by side, but we can feel the flex even four or five feet away from each other. Is this a normal thing for second stories or should it be something of concern? This apartment is a new build and we’ve already had them come in and fix other things that were not done right such as water not running, fixtures not properly secured, a handful of cosmetic issues, etc. Any advice or things to look for would be greatly appreciated.

The new season 11 rank resets might have been the worst thing to happen to this game they gave console players the same icon as Epic Games kids.
The unbelievable idiocy that went into this reset is not even fathomable, to the point to where I am just done completely. I never will play this game again. It's actually insane. I was 1287 last season, haven't been diamond since Season 3.. let that sink in. It's been 7 seasons since I have been diamond, yet I logged in today to receive the worst reset I have ever had. -290 mmr in 2s. I am now 970 due to having bad tm8, playing bad, and just honestly malding so hard that I am back to a rank I haven't seen in like 2 years. I know THOUSANDS of other people have had this same thing happen and thousands more will.
I gained mmr in 1s, I am so shit at ones its crazy. I also barely play that game mode. But for some god forsake reason I gained 9mmr in 1s, and only lost like 50 or 60 in 3s. This is completely reasonable. But -290mmr to push me into a rank where the children don't even have enough brain power to process rotating..? Why?! Why did everyone lose so much MMR? This genuinely makes no sense.
For those of you wondering why I don't just regain, is because diamond is the worst rank of all time, by FAR it takes the cake. That rank has the most smurfs, the most monkey brains, and the most amount of people that literally just aren't good enough to hang around anyone pushing C3 and GC1.
The big issue is I solo que, that's ALL I do for like 90% of my games, every now and then I will play with some of my IRL friends that are like C1-3. But it's rare. So I gotta try to rank up out of D2 now with people who don't play the game. I literally could just make a new account, solo que, and still place higher than my main Steam account is rn. This reset made 0 sense considering that although pretty much everyone in c2 or higher got this demotion.. apparently no one in the lower ranks got punished this badly, so I have to play with these guys now.
Someone enlighten me as to why I would get a -290 demotion when I haven't been consistently lower than 1225 in about 6 seasons. I just don't understand that in the slightest.
And now to why that particular account is basically ruined forever. It's too low to solo que, as I've said before, the people in diamond just genuinely don't have good decision making when it comes to challenging, and they ball chase quiet a bit. This is something I am used to running into in C2 & 3, but is it so for and few between, especially compare to a mid-high rank like c3 which is where I usually am. Now, if I go to play with any of my boys, none of them got a demotion that was more than -100. So I can't play with them because even if we win, some, we will eventually get to a point to where he's such a high MMR that we genuinely can't win bc the people we face are literally just better.
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when I gain MMR, so does he, so if we gained ~+290 together (to get back to where I was) over the course of however long you'd like. he would now be 1465 which is well into GC, neither of us can really hold out ground in GC1 games. We just aren't that good yet. Nothin wrong with that, I don't live on this game and neither does he. I literally only have 1,300 hrs total. On top of that, pretty much 0% of anyone lower than diamond got the demotion. This means that in order to get back to the rank I deserve, likewise with anyone who was able to push C3 and GC1, now gotta play against pretty much everyone in GC. I'm sure everyone in GC feels the same BTW. "now we gotta play with these dog ass Champs", and that's fine to say, cuz we literally are worse at the game.
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Basically, my account is virtually ruined unless I am somehow able to solo que near where my duo is. And what's even more weird is that he only dropped 100, and 2 of my other IRL friends that I play with every once in a blue moon only dropped 40 and 60 a peice. Like what? Why did I get royally rear ended but not them? So many questions...
IMO, and hopefully others too, they completely ruined the start of the season for everyone who actually cares about the game.
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(this is totally up in the air bc I can't confirm if its true)
I heard in-game from a few ppl that went from GC2 to D3, that the demotion was bc pros were complaining it's "too easy" to get to GC because some people just demo, score, repeat, and shouldn't actually be in GC bc they aren't good enough. If that's true, and the demotion is based on that.. bro these game devs are beyond dumb. Imagine listening to a bunch of whinny pros complaining about getting demoed when it's literally apart of the game. Secondly, how does that have anything to do with use in champ. We literally we're just collateral damage from these bitchy pros complaining. And for what?

So I was doing a few hours of "reddit research" and came down to three options, from cheapest to most expensive being the Levoit Core 300 ($100), Winix 5500-2 ($150) and Coway AP-1512HH ($230).
I eventually decided to pull the trigger on the Coway simply because there were more "positive reviews" on the coway than the other two. Honestly, I do not know much about air purifiers other than I really need one after experiencing the effects of the wild fires and I do live in the city near a lot of cars. I work from home so I decided to spend more as an "health investment". I also have a dog and we get a lot of dust in the apartment.
I am hoping someone else with experience can chime in and tell me that I made the right decision lol. If not, or I went overkill, please do tell me and I have no problems canceling the order and getting a cheaper alternative.
Thanks!

Just drove in from Alabama on a trip going West. Stopped near Carlisle and the bugs were out of control. Truck and rv are just covered. At the gas station they were everywhere. Now we are in Little Rock and no problem. What kind of bugs are these?

So, as a kid and teen, I could not wait until the day I got my own place and got to be an adult and lived my own life- had my apartment looking exactly how I wanted it, spent my time doing whatever I wanted, etc. My parents fought a lot and there was always a TV on, so I couldn't wait to have my own space and just have peace.
Being an adult wasn't as easy as I thought it would be, and I couldn't afford my own place while I was going to college even though I was working, too. I didn't move out of my parents house until I was 20. I spent a year bouncing around friends apartments and their parents houses, couch-surfing and trying to figure my life out. Then, due to faulty birth control, I found myself pregnant at 21, by a guy who had already dumped me. Awesome. Back to my parents house I went.
When my daughter was almost a year old, I ended up in a relationship with a coworker I had known and liked for a few years. He's a great guy. But we moved in together right away and struggled with our finances for years (him paying tons of child support for his kid while I hardly got any from my ex.)
It has been 15 years now. We are married, but didn't have kids together because we could barely afford the ones we brought into the relationship with us for a long time. It's been over a decade of messy blended family dynamics and exes decisions effecting our lives and driving us crazy, a house that doesn't fit us all. And for me? Chaos. So much chaos that I don't even know who I am outside of a wife and a mother.
For the past couple of years, I've looked at a messy kitchen and felt guilty for thinking "I would love it if I had my own kitchen." Or had to clean a bathroom and wished I didn't have to share that space, either.
Then last year, due to my husband's snoring issues, I moved into my own bedroom in the house. I painted it the way I wanted and bought all new bedding and put up shelves for my books. I was worried I would miss sleeping with him or regret losing out on being close to him... but it hasn't affected our relationship at all, and as for me? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. I will never share a room with another person again. I didn't realize how badly I craved my own space until I was in here.
But now it's seeping into everything- there are nights I wish I could just curl up on the couch and watch a chick-flick without having someone else in the room with me, disruptive just by their very breath and popcorn munching. I want to read books without constant interruptions. I want to be able to sink into a bath directly after work without anyone asking me what we are doing for dinner. I want to be in control of my own time, like I've always dreamed of.
I'm very creative and introverted and I just wish I had my own space. I wish we were rich so we could buy two townhouses right next door, like Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter did for years. I'd love to get ready by myself in the morning and pop over to his place for a bite of toast and a kiss before heading off to work.
Now that the idea is lodged in my brain, it won't go away. I make half what my husband does, but I'm back in college currently.. I think I want the next phase of my life, after the kids launch, to be me earning enough money to have my own place and live near my sweet husband but not WITH him. I want to finally live the way 16 year old me always dreamed of. I want to have my space and my time, and the freedom to organize and decorate however I want without everyone else's stuff all over my house.
I will have to work hard and pitch this to my husband.. but he has been enjoying his own room, too, so maybe we can do this after all?
I mean, worst case scenario, we hate it and move back in together and we have a rental property. Right????
Tell me I'm not crazy please lol