Is there any chemicals in the dead cities that can be used for medicinal purposes in the above scenario? (dead cities, survivors left them when food ran out to the smaller areas, gasoline ran out and electricity was taken out removing power for the stuff in the cities, the function of cities remained however machines were full of every kind of valuable chemical, metal, even sewage to use as fertilizer, and machines, buildings could be demolished for concrete and all the machines every part could be repurposed for a different purpose cars put to their individual machanical components every part of a house taken apart surgically, the dead cities provided resource extraction to last indefinitely and cities ripped by thousands of workers, with 4 million survivors out of a 50 million pre war population supply exceeded demand)Copilot
In the scenario you’ve described, where survivors have left the cities to find resources elsewhere, the abandoned urban areas could indeed become treasure troves of materials for various uses, including medicinal purposes. Here’s how chemicals and other materials from the dead cities might be repurposed:

1. Medicinal Plant Compounds:
   • Survivors could extract medicinal compounds from plants that have overgrown in the abandoned cities. Many plants have known healing properties and could be used to treat a variety of ailments¹.
2. Pharmaceuticals:
   • Any remaining pharmaceuticals could be salvaged and repurposed. However, their efficacy and safety would need to be carefully considered due to potential degradation over time.
3. Industrial Chemicals:
   • Certain industrial chemicals found in machinery or laboratories could have medicinal properties. For example, ethanol from industrial or research facilities could be used as a disinfectant.
4. Metals for Medical Tools:
   • Metals from machinery and buildings could be melted down and reshaped into medical tools such as scalpels, tweezers, and other surgical instruments.
5. Sewage as Fertilizer:
   • Treated sewage could be used as fertilizer to grow medicinal plants, creating a sustainable cycle of resource use.
6. Repurposing Vehicle Components:
   • Parts from vehicles could be used to build medical equipment. For example, car batteries might power makeshift medical devices, and lenses from vehicle lights could be used in medical diagnostics.
7. Building Materials for Clinics:
   • Concrete and other building materials could be used to construct clinics and hospitals where medical care can be provided.
8. Chemical Reagents:
   • Chemical reagents from abandoned laboratories could be used for medical testing and research to develop new treatments.

In this scenario, the key to utilizing these resources would be a deep understanding of chemistry, medicine, and engineering. The survivors would need to be innovative and cautious, ensuring that any repurposed materials are safe and effective for medical use. The transformation of these materials into medicinal resources would be a testament to human resilience and adaptability in the face of adversity. 🌱🔬
1link.springer.com2listverse.com3link.springer.comYouwhat are some industrial chemicals found in machinery or laboratories could have medicinal properties and where can they be found?Copilot
In the context of machinery and laboratories, several industrial chemicals that could have medicinal properties include:

1. Ethanol: Commonly used as a solvent and cleaning agent, ethanol also serves as a disinfectant and antiseptic in medical settings¹.
2. Glycerol: Found in machinery as a lubricant, glycerol is used in pharmaceutical formulations to improve smoothness and provide lubrication¹.
3. Hydrogen Peroxide: Used for bleaching or cleaning in industrial settings, it’s also an effective antiseptic for treating wounds¹.
4. Acetic Acid: While used in the production of synthetic fibers and plastics, it has applications as an antifungal agent¹.
5. Isopropyl Alcohol: A solvent in manufacturing processes, it’s also used for disinfecting skin before injections¹.

These chemicals can be found in various industrial and laboratory settings, including chemical manufacturing plants, research facilities, and places where machinery maintenance occurs. In a post-apocalyptic scenario like the one described in “Threads,” survivors might find these chemicals in:

• Abandoned Factories: Where machinery was once operated and maintained.
• Laboratories: Where research and testing were conducted.
• Hospitals: Which would have used these chemicals for medical purposes.
• Universities: In their science departments and research labs.
• Storage Facilities: Where chemicals were kept for industrial use.

It’s important to note that while these chemicals have medicinal properties, they must be used with caution. Proper knowledge of their handling and application is crucial, especially in a scenario where professional medical advice and facilities are scarce. 🏭🔬
can post attack chemistry extract these chemicals from any objects?Copilot
In a post-attack scenario, extracting useful chemicals from various objects would be a crucial survival skill. Here’s how survivors might go about it:

1. Ethanol Extraction:
   
   • Ethanol could be extracted from alcoholic beverages or fermented materials. Distillation setups using basic equipment like pots, tubes, and heat sources could be improvised to purify ethanol.
2. Glycerol Recovery:
   
   • Glycerol is a byproduct of biodiesel production, which can be made from used cooking oils. It can also be recovered from soap-making processes.
3. Hydrogen Peroxide Production:
   
   • Hydrogen peroxide can be synthesized through various chemical reactions, including the electrolysis of water or by reacting barium peroxide with sulfuric acid, if available.
4. Acetic Acid (Vinegar):
   
   • Acetic acid can be obtained from the fermentation of fruit juices or other sugary solutions. The process would require oxygen and time for vinegar bacteria to convert ethanol into vinegar.
5. Isopropyl Alcohol:
   
   • Isopropyl alcohol can be found in cleaning products or medical supplies. It could also be synthesized through the hydration of propene, which might be sourced from fuel or chemical storage facilities.

Survivors would need to have knowledge of chemistry and access to some basic laboratory equipment or be able to improvise with available materials. Safety would be a paramount concern, as chemical extraction processes can be dangerous without proper precautions and equipment¹²³.
In such a scenario, the ability to adapt and innovate with available resources would be essential for survival and recovery. 🧪🔬
1scientificamerican.com2pubs.rsc.org3pubs.rsc.org4media.gettyimages.com5media.gettyimages.comYouwhat are some examples of fermented materials?Copilot
Fermented materials are produced through the metabolic activity of microorganisms, which transform the food materials by utilizing sugars and other components. Here are some examples of fermented materials:

• Milk: Used to produce yogurt, kefir, cheese, and other dairy products¹.
• Soybeans: Fermented to make soy sauce, miso, tempeh, and natto¹.
• Cabbage: Known for sauerkraut and kimchi².
• Fruits: Can be fermented into wines and ciders¹.
• Grains: Used in the production of beer, whiskey, and sourdough bread².
• Vegetables: Besides cabbage, other vegetables like carrots and cucumbers can be fermented to create pickles².

These fermented materials are not only a means to preserve food but also enhance their nutritional content and flavor, making them a valuable resource in various culinary traditions around the world. 🍶🧀🍞
1microbeonline.com2en.wikipedia.org3draxe.comGlad you liked this answer!
Youis their any fermented materials that isn't edible?Copilot
Yes, there are non-edible fermented materials that are often used for industrial purposes or as components in various products. Here are some examples:

• Microbial Cellulose: Produced by bacteria during fermentation, microbial cellulose is used in the production of materials like bioplastics, textiles, and even electronics¹.
• Biofuels: Fermentation processes can produce biofuels such as ethanol and biodiesel from non-edible biomass like agricultural waste².
• Industrial Enzymes: Fermentation is used to produce enzymes for industrial applications, such as in detergents or for textile processing¹.
• Biopolymers: Some fermentation processes result in biopolymers that can be used for packaging, replacing traditional plastics².
• Fermented Olive Oil for Soap: Non-edible fermented olives can be used to produce high-quality natural soaps³.

These materials are valuable in a wide range of applications, from sustainable packaging solutions to renewable energy sources, demonstrating the versatility of fermentation beyond food production. 🧪🌿
1sciencedaily.com2mdpi.com3mdpi.com4link.springer.com5doi.orgYouwas there any non edible fermented materials in cold war era Britain?Copilot
During the Cold War era in Britain, non-edible fermented materials were primarily used for industrial purposes. Some examples include:

• Industrial Alcohol: Fermented materials like molasses and grains were used to produce industrial alcohol, which could be used as a solvent or fuel¹.
• Biofuels: Fermentation processes were explored for producing biofuels from agricultural waste and non-edible biomass¹.
• Vinegar (Acetic Acid): While vinegar is edible, its higher concentrations obtained through fermentation were used for cleaning and other non-food purposes¹.
• Silage: Fermented plant matter used as animal feed, not suitable for human consumption¹.

These materials were part of the broader industrial landscape of Britain, contributing to various sectors including agriculture, manufacturing, and energy. 🏭🌾

My husband (27M) and I (38M) are doing a trip across Europe at the moment. He’s American and I’m British and we reside mostly in the UK. We’ve had experiences with boomers (too many experiences) but our travels across Europe have been something else.
95% of these boomers were, it seemed, American.
Ok some examples. Brace yourself. Here we go:

1. Venice. A city of tiny islets connected by bridges and where water taxis, gondolas and walking over bridges is commonplace. On approaching a very narrow bridge, I noticed a clump of people. As we got closer I saw a woman shouting, and then I heard her. She’s American, standing with her arms outstretched as to block access and she was SCREAMING: “Don’t walk on this bridge!! WE ARE TAKING PHOTOS ON OUR CELLPHONES!” Behind her, her friends were all posing while simultaneously struggling to operate their phones. Obviously people were just ignoring her, so she’s becoming irate. By the time we got to her I can’t help myself (I never have been able to) so I said: “Get fucked lady.” I think my backpack might have hit her as I pushed past her. Ooops.
2. At a water taxi station, a group of 8 or so boomers didn’t have the correct tickets to scan to get on the taxi taxi so they just PUSHED the ticket barriers until they gave way so they could board. This was noticed by the taxi boat staff, however, and they the departure of the boat was delayed while they had to phone the police.
3. On a taxi gondola (one that goes directly across a canal, not one that takes you on a romantic tour) a boomer boarded after us. The ‘driver’ tells him in clear English to sit down. He doesn’t comply, instead choosing to parade up and down causing the gondola to destabilise and even for water to come aboard, even before we’ve left the port. He has the absolute temerity to tell the driver to “KEEP THIS THING STEADY! I'M TRYING TO TAKE PHOTOS YOU IDIOT!” The driver tells him to either sit down or leave. He reluctantly obeys but as he sits down mutters something like “… won the second world war!”
4. We went to an ultra high end restaurant on our final night in Venice and at the table next to us are a couple of American boomers. The man had a very unusual complexion, looking like he’s spent far too long in the sun. When their bill came, he threw a FIT because they won’t accept AmEx. “This is FUCKING OUTRAGEOUS!” He screams at the waiter who is about 18 and doesn’t really understand what is being said to him. “WE USE THIS CARD ALLL THE TIME AT HOME!” I leaned over and said: “Errrrrr, so in Europe AmEx isn’t often accepted because of the very high transaction fees. Perhaps you could-“ to which he snapped at me: “Mind your own fucking business! Nobody asked you or your boyfriend.”
5. In Zürich, we had to contend with a boomer who kept getting in the way of us taking photos. It was like he was deliberately standing in our way. At one point he seemed to almost accidentally touch my husband. Eventually I said: “hey bro, we’re trying to take a picture of us together. Can you give us some room?” To which he snapped: “You don’t own this hill you know!!”
6. We had a 7 hour train journey from one country to another. We had a first class reservation. Once we boarded, we found two boomer couples sitting around a table, which our two seats were part of. I explained we had a reservation. One of them said: “Well you can’t have, we have this table.” I produced the reservation and said: “You can clearly see it says we are in this coach, in first class, in these seats. Can I see YOUR reservation?” They refused, with the man from the other couple saying: “You don’t even look like you can afford first class tickets, son. Why don’t you run along before I get security?” I turned to my husband and said: “Go and get someone.” He did so, and they spend the next 15 minutes berating me, saying I’d be “very embarrassed” when I am told to leave the train. One of them even said: “Yeah they’ll show you up like the poor you are.” Husband returned with ticket inspector who looked at our tickets and then asks them to produce theirs. They argue briefly, and upon being threatened with removal from the train, produce tickets for second class with no reservations. The inspector tells them to leave the first class section “immediately or this will be a matter for the police” (which she said in French so I had the great pleasure of translating). They reluctantly got up to go and made a HUGE huff and puff about it. One of them pulled his bag off a luggage rack and managed to hit a child sitting near the rack with it, and then verbally abused the child’s parents when they dared to complain. At the next stop the train stopped for about 30 minutes and announcements were made that there was an “unexpected delay”. The ticket lady from before came to tell us that the four of them had been asked to leave because of their behaviour in second class, refused to do so, and therefore the police were brought in.
7. In Prague, went to a very old family owned restaurant. One of the family is a university student who happened to get talking to a boomer couple. He’s studying computing science and artificial intelligence. They tell him he is “contributing to the end of humanity”. The male boomer adds: “I was teaching people how to use Microsoft 20 years ago, I know what computers can do! And this is very dangerous….!” Needless to say, this 19 year old who understands only basic English is very confused.
8. In Milan, a boomer couple walked past me in a shop and I heard the woman say: “Fucking useless, this Italy. Everyone here speaks in foreign.”
9. In an airport to travel from Germany to Zürich, a boomer couple decided to start regulating the line to board the jet. They stood in the way of the gate desk, letting only older people past and holding younger people back. I snapped at once: “What are you doing? Get out of the way, man” and as I walked past him I heard “… elders first! Elders first!” When I was on the jet and seated, the wife came up to me ONCE WE WERE IN THE AIR and said I had been “very disrespectful” to her husband and “you are now required to apologise.” My husband, seeing I was on the verge of committing a murder, said: “Look, you got your moment of glory earlier in controlling the queue. Take your pound of flesh and fuck off.” She then snaps: “OR WHAT?” to which my husband calmly replies: “Or we make a complaint right now about your disruptive behaviour onboard an aircraft. Don’t tend to like that, the Swiss.” And then he sits down and instantly puts his AirPods in and turning away from her. I had to look out of the window so she didn’t see me smiling.
10. In Milan we visited a museum showcasing technologies through the ages. It was enormous, and very comprehensive. In one display case they have an original Macintosh from 1984. As I stand looking at it, I became aware of some raised - distinctly American - voices. “What the hell!! Are they saying they MADE the computer?!!? WE MADE THE COMPUTER.” I can’t resist (again) and turn to him and say to this group of 6 boomers: “Actually, ladies and gents, the modern inventor of the computer is Alan Turing, an English guy who broke the German’s Enigma code during World War 2. This Macintosh is here just because of its historical significance-“ I didn’t get any further cos he cut me off with “UGH. So it’s the ENGLISH stealing our tech now!”

I am writing this because we were both have been genuinely taken aback by what we have experienced. I have travelled extensively in Europe and never quite come up against this before, so I don’t know if it means that the Boomer problem is getting worse or what.

A month ago, I (21m) recently received a text from an old friend(21m) from back in highschool telling me that he was extremely short on cash and was desperate for anything I could send him. I sent him about a 100 dollars which is kind of a big deal where I'm from. He thanked me alright, and the communication ceased.
A month later, when I got some cash on me, I thought of him and decided to send him something in case he was once again short on cash but was too embarrassed to ask. I sent him 150 dollars. I wanted it to be a surprise for him so I didn't tell him beforehand. I wasn't exactly waiting for him to contact me, but I thought that he would after receiving the notification. Two days passed and I began to wonder whether he didn't receive the money. Just as I was about to call to enquire, I received a text from him saying; Bro I saw the alert. Thanks, you made my day.
I probably wouldn't have minded this 'thank you' much, but I was instantly put off because he didn't directly message me. His text was a reply to a picture I'd posted on my status/story which meant that he never really made an effort to thank me properly and he just did it as an afterthought when he saw my status. I didn't reply to his message.
For the next week, he would send me a ‘hi, how are you doing, etc’, but my responses were cold and not friendly. He noticed my coldness because he called me today asking if there was something wrong. After he tried to make small talk for a few minutes, he then said “thank you for the money you sent me. It really helped me a lot.”
I finally asked him if he was really sure it helped him because he barely showed any gratitude for it when I sent it to him. He pointed out that he did and I asked him if he truly thought that not even bothering to call or text me directly was the best way to show his gratitude. He got upset and asked that if I'm as generous as I claim to be, why would I send him money expecting a thank you in return.
He said some other things that all summed up to the fact that he found it hard asking for money in the first place since it embarrases him and I'm making him feel even worse by insisting that he should've thanked me 'properly'. I told him that if saying thank you was so hard for him, then he could very well stop counting on me for any financial assistance. He called me an AH and hang up.
I'd like to think I was right, but I'm beginning to feel like I overreacted. Is he right? AITA?

The Hanging Tree By John Westrick

The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended.
“Damnit Jimmy, you're supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried.
A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher's mound to look at Jimmy disdain clearly visible on his face, “This is the third run you’ve allowed, and you wonder why we never let you play with us. You’re dog shit! Actually, I apologize to all loads of shit out there, you’re even more useless. I’d prefer to have Roger Morris on our team and he can’t see a damn thing with those bug eyes.”
An easy-going boy with blonde shaggy hair and a confident smile strolled up to Jimmy, extending his hand to assist, and said, “Here let me help you up. After all, you're the best player on our team. MVP hands down. Come on boys, give him a cheer!”
The boys chanted Jimmy’s name in a mocking parade of triumph.
“I don’t need your help, David,” said Jimmy.
Dirt smeared and face growing hot, the embarrassed boy attempted to climb to his feet. The hand extended to help, struck lightning-fast, catching the smaller boy squarely in the chest. With a groan of pain, the dirty boy hit the ground for the second time that afternoon.
“Well, if I knew you liked to eat dirt so much, I never would’ve offered to help,” said David, a wolfish smile forming on the landscape of his face.
A chorus of cruel laughter echoed all around.
“I hate you David Baxly,” said the wheezing boy.
David looked at Jimmy with disgust, giving him a savage kick to his left kidney. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and die. I doubt even your family would miss you.”
The rest of the boys walked away leaving the bleeding Jimmy whimpering on the ground.
No longer crying from pain but seething anger, slowly he began to crawl to his feet. “I wish I could go somewhere else. Just pick up and move and never have to see those shitheads ever again,” said Jimmy speaking to no one in particular.
It was thoughts of revenge that occupied his mind, half-baked plans, he didn't have the courage to act upon. No matter, it wasn’t revenge he truly sought, but a friend. The idea of having people look at him and truly see him. Humiliation for David Baxly was just an added bonus.
The bloody boy was still fantasizing about these things, when he found himself staring at the intersection of Jackson and main street in the sleepy town of Brookhollow, Tennessee. Brookhollow is like many rural towns, so tiny that it doesn’t even appear on the map. There are 876 residents in the tight-knit community, according to the 2008 census. Main street boasts one general store, a gas station, the town hall, and Debbie’s Diner.
It was on the outside of the later building that he saw the missing sign of Jack Dunkin, a 12-year-old boy from a neighboring town a few miles to the west. Jack was from Polk, a slightly larger town and known rival to Brookhollow. Even though Jack was in the same grade as Jimmy, they had never met.
Jimmy looked at the picture and saw that the boy had been missing for nearly 3 months. He wondered how his mom would react if he was missing that long; he reached the conclusion that she probably wouldn’t even notice. Ever since she took that job at Debbie’s to pay for the remainder of her husband’s gambling debts, she was hardly even home.
She was gone when he woke and didn't come back too well after he was asleep. The only time Jimmy had any communication with Laura Hanson was on Sundays. Even this small exposure was tainted by the bone deep exhaustion. She may have been present, even so, she wasn't there. Laura wakes, eats, drinks, uses the bathroom; yet she isn't really living. She reminded the boy of those cheesy horror movies they sometimes play late at night. The walking dead.
As little as his interaction with Laura, at least she still lived in the ramshackle motorhome right off the main highway. His dad, if he even still qualified to be called that, left some time back, draining the joint bank account and leaving the two of them penniless. Jimmy didn’t even know where he stayed, let alone had a phone number for the bastard. A few years back he received a postcard from him. He was shelled up in some two-bit motel in the thriving city of Las Vegas. On the back of the card was a charming little note, it said, “Jimmy, I wish you could see the city. Maybe you could come out and visit. I’d love for you to come and hang with my friends. Ps. Could you have your mom send me some money, I’m in a little bit of trouble here.
This led to his first real fight with his mom. He was adamant on going and meeting his father, thinking that if he got to know him he could change him. Bring him back. His mom wanted nothing to do with the man, nor did she want her son to be hurt again. The argument got heated and words were exchanged. In the end, he stayed, but some things chafe over time. Things were never quite the same.
If the boy was honest with himself, he would have to admit there is no one in his life. He has no friends in school, there is no one waiting for him at home, and he is not a part of any extracurricular activities. He goes to school, comes home, does his homework, makes dinner for his mom, and goes to bed. It has never occurred to him that he is lonely, the fact is he has never known anything else.
Jimmy doesn’t actually live in Brookhollow, his house is about two miles north up highway 29. He lives outside of the school’s jurisdiction, so he is unable to take the bus. He walks to school every day. The walk is peaceful and he actually looks forward to it. The boy possesses an overactive imagination and gets lost in his fantasies. A little less today, his ribs ache with every step. But not even this inconvenience can ruin the solitary 2-mile trek back home. He makes no turns, highway 29 is main street. All he needs to do is walk straight and he will arrive at his house.
But he is not walking in rural Tennessee anymore. He is a pioneer exploring the Great Frontier. Native Americans and wolves stalk him at night, he must be aware of the dangers that lie beyond every turn. He can see his way through any situation with the help of his trusty companion and best friend, One-eyed Pete. Pete used to be an outlaw that robbed and cheated people, but changed his ways when Jimmy saved him from being hung on the hanging tree.
A shutter runs through his body every time he remembers the hanging tree. It’s the largest oak he had ever seen. He loves to climb trees but would never dream of climbing that one. It is twisted, not a single leaf on its branches. If evil was ever a location, it would be at the heart of that gnarled tree. Jimmy doesn’t like to think about it. It always seems to ruin his mood. Poison his mind. His fantasies always turn darker when he thinks of the oak.
Suddenly he is aware of exactly how alone he is. A full mile out from the safety of the town. No one is nearby. It’s just him, the trees, and his own tormented imagination. He wishes he wouldn’t have thought of that tree. He wishes he had a dad to pick him up from school, but there is no rescue for him. In Jimmy’s experience, heroes only exist in the story books.
“The hanging tree is in your mind, Jimmy, it isn't real,” he tells himself over and over as if to ward away evil. And why not? For that tree is most definitely evil, the hideous villain in an insidious plot.
In the primal portion of his mind, he senses danger. The same skittish feeling the antelope experiences shortly before the concealed lion pounces and feasts on flesh.
“Trees don’t eat little boys,” murmurs the frightened boy.
“Maybe so, yet that oak could hardly be classified in the same league as other trees,” responds his own treasonous thoughts.
The boy's mind splinters; warring factions jockeying for supremacy. Paranoia seizes him, inky black hands clawing the air out of his lungs. A young boy unaware of the inward mutiny happening amidst his own wits, completely left to his own demented imagination. Yet, the stakes of this adventure are a great deal higher than any he has yet to experience.
His mother was fond of telling him, “What you think, you become.”
A truly awful thought slinks into his mind unbidden. What if the stories his mind conjures could gain reality too? The thought overwhelms the boy. His eyes shift back and forth searching for threats. Jimmy’s senses are keen to his surroundings. Every twig snapping, a creature stalking. Every bush rustling, a hungry beast ready to devour. Yet, the petty fears of a child's tormented mind pales to the unearthly wrongness of the hanging tree.
“What if mom is right?” says the concerned boy to the emptiness. At this unwelcome thought the boy slams his eyes closed in a futile attempt to banish the horrific idea.
“The hanging tree isn’t real,” says Jimmy, knowing in his heart this isn’t true. In the back of his mind, the boy is certain that the moment he opens his eyes, he will see it. He will see the strands of rope dangling from the gnarled branches. He will smell the smell of decaying bodies. He will hear the creak of rope swaying gently in the cool breeze.
The boy doubles his efforts in a vain attempt to keep his eyes closed. He sees red due to the strain he is putting on his muscles. He hears the steady pulse of his blood rushing in his head. The boy also understands that all this effort is for naught. He must open his eyes at some point. Jealousy creeps into the boy’s heart. Envy for the man born without sight. For the boy understands the moment he sees, there will be no coming back.
The moment has come.
Jimmy can no longer keep his eyes shut. Seconds before his eyes fling open, he feels the gentle touch of someone's hand on his shoulder. This touch startles him, and the boy throws wide his eyes.
Sure enough a few hundred yards in front of him, stands the abomination. A lone tree on the top of a bald, scarred hill. Not a living thing to be seen. No vegetation growing on the hill, no squirrels scuttling about, just a great oak, standing; an obscene gesture to the god of this world. The only fruit of this tree the decaying flesh of dead men, and likewise, the only cup the curdled blood of those hanging. A final meal set for the boy, an unholy communion.
The hand, whose was it? Was it even human? The little boy left visibly shaking at the touch of the unknown. Is this death? The icy grip of the Reaper himself here to harvest with his scythe. No marriage, no children, not knowing the pleasures of true friendship. Life cut short, a lamentable state of affairs.
It was in this line of thought, where true courage was mustered. A strength measured not by the size of his muscles or the amount one could lift, but the more impressive type, the type quantified in the amount of shit one can wade. Identified in the amount of crap hands dealt without bowing out altogether. Young Jimmy Hanson did the unthinkable, he turned and faced death looking it in the eyes.
Eyes, yes, but death perhaps not. It was no titan of horror, nor was it the poster child of demented evil. Child it was, but this boy was familiar. Not anyone from his class, yet he knew the boy. In a moment of clarity, he recognized him. It was the missing kid, Jack Dunkin.
He looked identical to the poster on the side of Debbie’s Diner. He wore the same black and white Van’s tee shirt, ripped blue jeans, and some tattered Nike tennis shoes. The thoroughly terrified Jimmy stood staring at the missing boy, mouth ajar.
Jack with an easy-going grin plastered on his face, said, “It's about time, someone comes looking for me. I've been waiting for you Jimmy, far too long.”
With an audible click the boy shut his gaping mouth and responded, “Ja- Jack, you've been missing for nearly three months. Have you been out here all along? Are you alone? Are you hurt?” Jimmy fired these questions in rapid succession, growing more suspicious with each word.
“I’ve been right here, waiting for you to come and play with me. You see, I am like you. I never had anyone to play with either. Now you are here, and you must stay with me,” said the bigger boy with a smile on his face.
Jimmy’s mind quieted, for the first time in his life he saw himself clearly. A boy with no friends, no father, hardly a mother, bullied every day, and no way of escape. Clarity revealed the harsh truth. A day had not gone by that he wasn’t lonely. There was no one in his life. There was no life for him.
The undersized boy looked at the other with longing in his eyes. He thirsted for a friend, like a man lost at sea. He hungered for companionship, like a man stuck in the wilderness. It wasn’t just a desire; he was desperate for a friend. If the bigger boy would leave, Jimmy felt as if his soul would tear in half. His heart would shatter into a thousand pieces unable to be put back together. The boys' eyes were a mirror reflecting the same sad truth, they understood each other. Both had lived, and neither had anyone to share it with.
The boys bound by shared hardships grasped onto each other refusing to let go. The combined burden of loneliness lessened by two backs, instead of one.
With few words exchanged, the two of them created soul ties. Not the ties of lovers, but of lifelong friends. The type one dies for. The rare type of friendship that most people never form in their entire life. It was rich. It was wholesome. Jimmy felt as if his life was complete. The one thing he always desired truly fulfilled.
Jack grabbed the smaller boy’s hand and guided him towards the tree.
Jimmy, not wanting to get anywhere near that monstrosity, tried to pull back.
“Don’t worry. The tree is a good place. It will take us to a new land filled with boys and girls just like you and I. No David’s or bullies like him,” said a smiling Jack.
“How did you know about David? You’ve been missing all this time,” said a concerned looking Jimmy.
“Jimmy, I hear whispers. My friends tell me things. They will tell you secrets too. If you want to be friends with me, that is.” The bigger boy looked down at his ragged shoes. He looked so pitiful and Jimmy was so starved for companionship, how could he not follow the boy.
Jack led the two of them to the scarred trunk of the tree. Here he let go of Jimmy’s hand, telling the boy, “Do exactly what I do.”
Jimmy’s fear bottled up deep in his guts. He felt as if he was going to explode. The tree was sinister and twisted. Evil through and through. Yet, the little boy had never had a friend. He was not willing to throw that away so easily.
Jack walked to the lowest hanging branch. He reached up and grabbed one of the dangling nooses. He wrapped it around his neck and looked at Jimmy. “Don’t worry, no pain is felt. The hanging tree is magic. You’ll close your eyes on this world, and wake up in a better place with me and all of my friends,” said a smiling Jack.
“Ja-Jack, I don’t think I can do this. It seems dangerous. I need to go back home soon. My mom will be waiting for me,” said a terrified Jimmy.
A heartbroken Jack looked at the smaller boy and said, “Jimmy, I can’t believe you would lie to me. Your mom isn’t home and she wouldn’t even notice that you are missing. Come with me. I am the only one who cares for you.”
Tears streaming down the smaller boy’s face, he responded, “Please don’t make me do it! This place frightens me. Can’t you just come home with me?”
“No! This world despises people like you and me. We weren’t made for it. We were made for the hanging tree. This is where you belong,” snarled the bigger boy.
Jimmy, eyes still running, reached with trembling hands for the dangling noose. He seized it. With one final glance at his friend, the little boy placed the loop around his neck. Immediately the noose drew tight. It felt as if the tree was hauling him up by it. The boy kicked and squirmed. Trying to shout for help, but his airflow was cut off. He managed to make a choking noise, then with one final twitch all was still. Still as the glassy surface of a lake on a spring day.
Little Jimmy Hanson had finally made a friend.
The two boys remained dangling together, gently swaying in the stale autumn breeze.

Hi guys!
I'm planning to go on few day trips internationally and am looking for a one bag solution. I'd also want the bag to be my overnight hiking/camping bag which is why I'm looking for one hopefully with a removable hip belt if needed. Most importantly Id like it to fit the carry on sizes of airlines.
I'm currently interested at the Mystery Ranch Coulee 40 and the ULA Camino. Based on my findings, the Coulee40 is over the max length of carry on, but I've read some saying that they had no issues with one-bagging it. I dont plan to fill it up to the brim but Id like to know if anyone can confirm this. The Camino on the otherhand seems to be made perfectly to fit carry on size. My main issue with it is the bag straps and hip belt. I'm only 5ft5 154lbs (70kg) (torso length around 18") and am not sure how well itll carry especially with camping gears in it (~9kg).
​
TLDR

1. Carry on compliant
2. Comfy for Sized for 5ft5
3. ~40L minimum
4. Removable hipbelt*

Current list: MR Coulee40, ULA Camino
​
Any other suggestions would be great.
​
If you have any pictures of the Camino and are similar sized to me that would be great. Not much details about the bag compared to other models of ULA
​
Thank you very much!
​

NEW ITEMS AVAILABLE
I am trying to sell some Skylander figures and accessories, I have made a google sheets file so you would be able to see what's for sale, the quantity, the pictures of each of the figures, the prices for each, and if they are available, DM me if your interested.
I will also negotiate prices if you are buying more than 3 items, otherwise the prices are firm. All prices are SCL shop Accurate
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1NmvdLsuSBUA5rNysfz355FhX0NdyuvWjqHualnJal9I/edit#gid=0
I will also do International Shipping, but it will be more expensive.

How liable am I, if entering my vehicle, I rested my car door against the car next to me?
She was way over the line next to me and I made sure to rest it gently before entering my car.
No police were involved and I took pictures of where she was parked.
I think she’s a fraud targeting people with a pre-existing dent. But I didn’t pay attention closely enough to her vehicle.

I don’t really know what to do about these situations. Maybe I’m irrational and paranoid or I deserve to be self-advocative, I wouldn’t know, so hear me out.
There’s a Dollarama I frequently visit less than 5 minutes away from my home. I live in a semi-ghetto part of Ottawa, so I’ve occasionally seen a security guard on duty, usually the same one.
One day, I had been wandering slowly, taking pictures of items I wanted to buy later, and when I had my phone down at my side for a moment to look at chocolate, she said: “Miss, your camera is left on.” While in any other situation this would have been a helpful thing to point out, I’m uncomfortable about it because she must have been watching me like a hawk to even notice or care about that.
Even though I’m at this store often, I have felt like she’s been trailing me every time I see her. I saw her leave her post at the candy section (it is possible to view the cashiers and entrance better from there) at the exact same time I left the aisle, I saw her right on my heels as I was turning. I slowed for a moment, forcing her to slow a bit too, made a slightly obvious backward glance at her, and as I went into the next aisle she left, but later on she stood on tiptoe to peek her head at me when I was in the checkout line (which is blocked slightly by the tall minifridges) when I went to pay.
This kind of close trailing doesn’t seem to happen to any other person in the store. Only me. I’m the only person that she watches sometimes, until I make it clear I’ve noticed and she’ll walk away like I said earlier. It feels like no coincidence or “just a part of the job” to stand at the end of the aisles I alone happen to be in, or to have her walk right behind me as often as she does.
I am not the only one though, as some online reviews dated from around the same time I first encountered her also had complaints of feeling singled out and followed. This guard even tried joining a conversation with a group of girls that she was silently following. I’m too socially anxious to speak up at a person with authority to potentially use force on me, nor do I feel comfortable speaking to management, because my young appearance always earns me condescending/unhelpful responses.
The big question from me is: Am I the problem, paranoid, or am I a victim?? I know retail employees are meant to look out for suspicious traits in a person that make them likely thieves, but I would have thought me being there so often, buying at least one item every time, would have cleared suspicions on me by now. I visually look young enough to pass as a teenaged female (18 intersex, soon 19), was born with a limp, have autism, and keep my appearance passably clean. Am I naturally a suspicious individual by sight because of those traits? Do I need to further change my appearance to get this to stop?

My hands are shaking as I write this, I have to document my story incase something happens to me in the next few days. I'm not sure where to begin but I suppose here is better than anywhere.
I've always had this weird feeling, this sensation inside of me that I was older than I actually was. By the time I was twelve, my soul felt as though it was forty. By the time I reached twenty, I felt like an old woman. I would watch people around my age acting foolish, and I always thought, "What a bunch of children." So it was no surprise to anyone that when I turned twenty-one, I left my hometown and college and decided to spend the summer alone by renting an old farmhouse in an insignificant town on the edge of an even more insignificant border.
When I told my mother, she had a veritable fit, unable to find the words. She spluttered and raged around me for days before I finally left early one morning to avoid her guilt and frustration with my choices. I was not sure why I craved solitude at such a young age, why I found solace in being alone and removed from society.
In high school, I had changed unexpectedly, cutting my long blonde hair short and dying it black, getting piercings that my mother loathed and claimed no young lady should have. You see, my mother was raised proper, as she called it. Good family, good husband, and finally a good life. She despised her perfect life being squashed by my alternative looks and feelings of the same world. She just didn't understand me or the world as it changed around her. I felt like I was just a trophy to her and my father, her perfect angel who had been tainted by my own demented thoughts.
I never told my parents where I was staying, one last rebellious mission before leaving for a few months, and it took me only a few hours to arrive at the farmhouse where I would be staying for the next few months. The land around the farm was dead or dying, old crops rose out of the dry dusty earth and had turned black and forgotten, as if this land was the example of dreams long forgotten and empty. A single dreary lane connected this desolate farmhouse to the rest of the world. On the outside, it was drab and looked as though it would fall apart. It had two stories but still seemed cramped and small, as if it were a single floor tied to the ground.
Across from the house, bordering the tall weeds that had reclaimed much of the farmland, stood a maudlin-looking faded red barn, one door propped open in a dejected manner revealing naught to me but shadows, dust, and a little mystery.
Next to the barn, staked into the ground on an old-looking cross, was a ragged scarecrow. It had drab brown clothing, but its face was oddly realistic, like it was watching me with a disapproving manner. Straw poked through its joints at odd angles like they were trying to break free from their confines. The scarecrow obviously didn't do its job as it was covered in no less than three crows.
I parked my car next to the barn and stepped out into the dusty yard before the farmhouse that I would make my home for the next few months. I checked under the front mat for the key and put it in the lock.
With a satisfying click, the door fell inward into the farmhouse. Surprisingly, the inside of the farmhouse was modern, clean, and looked quite inviting. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and everything was so white. The realtor had told me she would stop by tomorrow to collect the rent, and she had tried to chat my ear off on the phone about all the renovations she and her son were doing on the place.
I sighed with contentment and tossed my bags beside the door. I dug around in my bag and removed my camera, my father's old film shooter as he called it. I had taken up the hobby years ago for what I called capturing the oddity in the world.
I explored the small house a little more; the ground floor consisted of a single room and small bathroom with a shower. The bedroom was upstairs and was the only room, the stairs connected directly to the white and pink monstrosity that was the master bedroom. The pillows had laces on them and almost made me gag from the cuteness. There was even cute white lace curtains on the window with little flowers stitched onto them.
Out of the only window of the room, I could see the barn and the scarecrow. I aimed my camera at the pair and snapped a photo. From this angle, the scarecrow appeared to be staring straight at me. It stood next to the left side of the barn in a dejected manner like a chastised child.
A shudder involuntarily ran through me at the sight, but I moved on back downstairs. It was getting close to dinner time now, and I had brought some food with me.
After a few minutes, I had my dinner on the stove cooking and the crickets chirping outside the open window. As I sat down to eat next to the window, I felt at peace for one of the first times in years. The solitude of this old farm was exactly what I needed. The window supplied a nice breeze that wafted through the place, it smelled of grass and warm summer nights, made me feel at peace. The simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a glass of wine was all that I needed right here, right now in this moment.
That night I climbed into the frilly laced bed and sunk into the claustrophobic mattress. I felt like Goldilocks in the mama bear's bed as it was altogether too soft. From my perfumed bed, I had a good view out the window. I had left the porch light on, and it cast an eerie glow across the yard. The barn loomed ominously, stalwart against the light of the porch, like it was protecting the shadows from the battering ram of light. The somber scarecrow leaned against the left side of the barn.
With a small jump, I thought I saw its arm move slightly. I peered through my camera using the zoom to get a better view of the scarecrow. It was completely still in the night, and I laughed quietly to myself at my silliness. I had always enjoyed horror movies, but there was no chance I was living in one. I settled back into bed and put my camera down. Within a few minutes, I fell into sleep's warm embrace.
What felt like only a few minutes later, I sat up in bed. It was still dark out, I could hear crickets chirping through the open window, and I strained my ears for a moment.
I thought something had woken me up. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as a cold breeze wafted in through the window. I pulled the frilly blanket up around myself when I heard it. A thud sounded below me, shaking the whole world into silence. The crickets stopped chirping, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating. Someone was in the house. I hadn't locked the door or closed the kitchen window, and now someone was downstairs. A second thud sounded like a boot on the staircase. Then another and another as something was slowly moving up the stairs towards the room.
I don't know why I did it, but something came over me. I wasn't big or especially brave, but my normal cowardice in social situations changed instantly. With a dash, I tore across the room, flicking on the lights, ready to face my attacker, to defend myself against male or female. I would fight, and I would win.
But as the lights turned on, ready to strike with my foot, nothing was there. The staircase was empty, and upon further inspection, the entire house was empty. The kitchen window was open, and I shut and locked it securely before checking the door. Nothing. I sat down on the couch, my heart pounding out of my chest, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I must have still been half-asleep," I said aloud to the room in a thinly veiled attempt to calm my nerves. It failed horribly, but I went with it. What else could you do in a situation like that?
After locking up the house, I went back up to that frilly four-poster bed in the bedroom and stared out the window. Nothing was in the yard except my car, the barn, and the same old sad-looking scarecrow staring across the yard.
Day 2
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the lace curtains. Despite the strange events of the previous night, I felt strangely refreshed, as if the morning sun had chased away the shadows that lingered in my mind.
I descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight, and headed to the kitchen. As I brewed a pot of coffee, my mind wandered back to the events of last night. Was it just a figment of my imagination, or was there really someone in the house?
Shaking off the unease, I decided to explore the farmhouse in the daylight. I wandered through the room, admiring the modern renovations that clashed with the rustic exterior. The farmhouse had a charm to it, despite its eerie surroundings.
As I made my way outside, the cool morning air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the countryside wash over me. The barn stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, and the scarecrow seemed to watch me as I crossed the yard.
I approached the barn, curiosity getting the better of me. Pushing open the creaky door, I stepped inside, the musty scent of hay filling my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I explored every nook and cranny of the barn, but found nothing out of the ordinary. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. In the corner of the barn, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets, was a small wooden chest.
My heart racing with anticipation, I lifted the lid of the trunk and peered inside. What I found took my breath away. It was a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age, depicting scenes from a bygone era. They were of a man with his family, two young kids, and a beautiful young wife. The man had yellow blonde hair, almost like straw in texture, but he smiled so happily with his family.
I sifted through the photographs, my fingers trembling with excitement. Who had left these behind, and why? Each photograph seemed to tell a story, a glimpse into the past of this forgotten farmhouse.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a sudden noise jolted me back to reality. It was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the barn.
"Hello?" The dreamy voice of a woman called to me from the entrance to the barn.
I slammed the lid of the trunk shut, closing the memories up in a flurry as I spun around to be greeted by a quite pretty woman with blonde hair and a pink suit skirt combo. She had bright pink lipstick, that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, and quite shiny and sparkly blue eye shadow on her lids. I myself only wore black eyeliner. This woman was like Barbie in her proportions, thin waist, long hair, and large tracts of land, as my father would have said.
"Oh, hello," I said simply, always awkward in normal social situations.
If she noticed anything odd about me, she breezed over it in an easy manner. Taking me by the shoulders, she led me out of the dusty barn and into the yard.
"You must be Polly. We have been waiting a while for you to come. I simply must know what you think of the renovations to the house. Aren’t they just to die for?" The lady said all in one breath, as if she didn’t need air to speak.
"Yes, they are quite nice..." I started before she cut me off, not in a rude manner but instead in one that she would have continued on even if I had just told her I was not Polly and instead I was a mass murderer looming for my next victim.
"You see, me and my son Eli—yes, Eli, you stop lurking in the shadows over there," she said, continuing on as I noticed a younger man leaning up against the barn. He wore simple clothes of jeans and a white t-shirt but had a handsome face. His hair was brown and hung slightly over his eyes.
"I hope you don’t mind if my son here continues working on some renovations while you stay here? Strictly on the outside of the house, mind you. A fresh coat of white paint would make this little beauty shine. We would have finished by now if not for the accidents," she continued, completely unabashed by my silence.
"Sorry. But you are the realtor?" I said, trying to regain my feet under me.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, dear!" she said with an affable cackle.
"Yes, yes, I am Barbara, but all my friends call me Barb. That over there is Eli. Eli, come say hi," Barb said while her painted talons rested firmly on my shoulder.
Eli stomped over, keeping his eyes low, in a sort of moody way that actually intrigued me, sort of.
When he glanced up at me, I noticed he drank in me from head to toe, and for the first time, I realized what I was wearing. An old rock t-shirt of one of my favorite bands and, of all things, my black pajama bottoms with cartoon bats on them that said "happy halloween."
I felt my face blush crimson as he made eye contact with me. He had very mysterious eyes of blue that seemed to cut right through my soul.
"Nice shirt," he said while gesturing to me. His voice was quiet and uncertain, as if he didn’t get much practice with the art. Knowing his mother, it seemed highly accurate.
"Thanks. Do you like them?" I asked.
"Oh, he likes all sorts of things, don’t you, Eli? Honestly, you two can gab on forever. But miss, I believe we have a small matter of payment," Barb said, drawing the conversation back to herself.
"Of course. Let me go get it," I said as I went back into the house and retrieved the envelope with the rent money in it.
Barb grabbed the envelope in her bright pink talons and snapped a piece of bubblegum between her teeth. With quick fingers, she leafed through the cash, counting it. As she counted, her normal bubbly personality seemed to disappear, giving way to what I gleaned was her true thoughts and feelings before the facade slipped on once again.
"Mmkay, perfect honey, this is the right amount. Now you have my number, so you call if you need anything. Like I said earlier, Eli will stop by from time to time to work on painting the house. I promise you he won’t be an imposition, just pay him no mind," Barb said in a sweet voice as she popped her gum in between each word.
"Eli, come on, please, I have an appointment in town," Barb said to her son, and they both climbed into a garish pink convertible with jewels hanging from the mirror wrapped in a gold chain.
Barb waved one last time as she sped off out of the driveway, covering me in dust as she spun the wheel around.
With their departure, I went inside and retrieved my camera. I spent a few minutes shooting a few pictures I thought were worthy. I re-entered the barn and pulled the old trunk out into the sunshine. Inside was only a handful of photos, some old clothes, and what looked like some old heirlooms. A beautifully old candlestick and a few leather-bound books lay at the bottom, covered by an old tablecloth. The tablecloth was a nice white with intricate swirling patterns inlaid around the edges.
Why would these things be packed away in here? They were so beautiful. I decided to bring the stuff inside for further inspection. As I lifted the trunk, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stared for a minute, but nothing moved again. I must be getting jumpy being alone like this. After last night and then this, I was just imagining things.
I brought the items inside and spread them out. I put the tablecloth on the table, and it hung low to the ground. I placed the candlestick by the window and took out the photos again, spreading them out.
The photos told me a story of a loving family that obviously lived in the farmhouse before me. They had a photo next to the barn, with a brand new looking scarecrow in the back. The man even had his arm around it; it looked so much cleaner and proper in this photo. I stared outside at the sad-looking scarecrow.
I took my camera and the photo and went outside to stand next to the scarecrow. His post hung kind of crooked in the earth like it was weighed down by the scarecrow.
I snapped a photo of the scarecrow as it was, then examined the original photo. I began resettling the post in the ground, but it kept sagging. I decided to pull him out of the ground and move him while I added more dirt to his hole. With some effort, I reseated him into his original hole. He already looked better, but I straightened his clothes and pulled out the last bits of straw that stuck out of his clothes. When I was finished, I looked back at him and took a photo, smiling while I did so at my work.
I then spent some time sweeping the front porch and banging the dust out of the cushions before I curled up on a wicker chair with plump cushions for a few hours reading a book I had brought with me.
I felt quite content at this place. The sounds of the crickets began again, putting me at ease as the sun began to descend. I had spent the entire day just relaxing, and it was perfect. I sat sprawled out in the chair, too lazy to go and make dinner or even move. My bladder was full, but I waited until the last moment before dashing inside and relieving myself.
That's when I noticed it, out in the yard. It seemed as if the scarecrow had moved closer. Once shrouded by the barn slightly, it now had moved a few steps into the light from the porch. My heart dropped at the sight. Not again, I must be asleep on the porch in the chair. I pinched myself, trying to wake up, but all I received was a sore arm.
I closed my eyes, then rubbed them, hoping to dispel whatever plagued my mind, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed the scarecrow was even closer. Halfway across the yard now, it sat menacingly, hanging crooked in the dirt. The scarecrow seemed to be staring at me with an intense gaze. The slits in its face were open now, and in the porch light, I swear I could see human eyes underneath the mask.
I moved towards the front door, locking it in a swift motion. I was shaking now, and it took me a minute to relax. I never took my eyes off the scarecrow for fear of it moving again.
My cellphone was upstairs, so I couldn't flee without the scarecrow moving again. I breathed out slightly and unlocked the door, letting it swing in with a creak. The night outside was silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The usual crickets that plagued me with their song day and night had fallen quiet. I stepped out onto the porch; I needed to go confront this demonic entity. Something about this still made me think this was a prank.
"Eli, is that you?" I called out to the scarecrow.
No response, of course. I steeled myself and put one foot off the porch, never taking my eyes off the scarecrow before me. Something seemed to be dripping from its head as I approached, a dark slime that seemed to be melting from its joints as it stood there silently, except for the constant drip of the liquid on the dry dirt before me.
I walked around the scarecrow, determined to figure out what was going on. As I circled it, my vision darkened for a moment as I faced towards the light of the house. I jumped as the scarecrow's head turned to face me as I looked away. The black liquid drained faster from the being, forming a shallow pool at its feet.
I'm not proud of what I did next, but I fled, taking my eyes off the scarecrow. I made a mad dash for the farmhouse. Behind me, I could hear the pounding of feet. I screamed as loud as my lungs would let me. My voice rang through the silence as I grabbed the door handle and wrenched open the door as I felt a strong grip fall on my shoulder.
I turned to defend myself, but nothing was there. The scarecrow was gone, the wooden cross had vanished, as had the pool of dark liquid in the dirt. The world sprung back to life; the crickets began chirping loudly, and my heart restarted. I slammed the door, and the air from my force scattered the photographs on the table. I ran upstairs, leaving the lights on in the house, and dove onto the bed, wrapping myself in the frilly blanket like a set of frilly armor.
I snatched my camera from the bedside table and held it close, determined to document the rest of the night. I held it in shaking hands as the noise downstairs began—the sound of boots crossing the floor to the stairs and the careful but heavy steps of ascension as they climbed closer and closer to me.
This time, I didn't lunge forward as the light was already on. I glanced out the window, but the scarecrow was still gone. I focused my camera on the stairs and waited as the steps came closer and closer. A shape began to form as the head of whatever was coming up the stairs crested the floor. Then a plain brown mask with slits where the eyes would be. It froze for a moment, then slowly turned its head towards me. Inside the slits were human eyes that seemed to be leaking dark red blood.
In the light, I could see it now. I snapped a photo of the beast, the flash setting off a reaction in the beast. The scarecrow moved so fast up the stairs it was a blur. My scream echoed throughout the house as it lunged at me. Filthy hands pinned me down, and the deep crimson liquid began pouring out of every joint of the scarecrow. It began covering my face, my eyes, and getting into my open mouth. I spluttered and kicked at the beast, but my blows had no purchase, as if the scarecrow on top of me had no substance to itself.
I coughed and spluttered on the liquid as it began to fill my mouth faster and faster. I tried not to swallow any, but it tried to find purchase as I was held down.
"Polly?" A nervous voice called from below.
Suddenly, as if the angels had called, the pressure dissipated, and I crashed to the floor in a heap, trying to spit the blood out, but nothing came—it was gone. Footsteps pounded up the stairs again, and I flew back in fear, closing my eyes.
"Oh my god. Polly, are you okay?" A voice said, and gentle hands grabbed my arm.
My eyes shot open at the human touch, and I grabbed Eli into a tight hug, where I promptly began sobbing in fear, my whole body shaking as Eli awkwardly hugged me.
"Don't worry, it's going to be okay," Eli said patiently to me as he hugged me back gently and began stroking my back.
I shivered in a choking sob and fell into his arms, desperately wanting to believe him, and for some reason, I did.

We recently received a letter from my HOA threatening with legal actions when we have done NOTHING wrong.
a relative of mine who is also living in this same HOA community have been asking us to dogsit for a few hours a day while they are out, they drop off the dog and always pick them up in the evening. The letter we received accompanied by a photo that the management office said was taken secretly by residents, and used it to make a complaint about us having a dog. The HOA is requesting that we register the dog, provide immunization, and annual fee, otherwise they will proceed with legal actions... I mean it's not our dog?
Does no one even bother to come talk to us and understand what situation is before acting like your the god damn president and report somebody? Does the HOA not even bother to do their investigation and immediately believe the words of those who made the complaint? I fucking hate how one-sided HOA is, it's also soooo creepy that people are just secretly taking photos of other people right from their window. like mind your own fucking business.
what can i use against HOA? invasion of privacy? creepy residents? god knows what other pictures they take... I really hope they're not taking secret photos of children playing and make a complaint about that....

Hey y'all! Everyone like Star Wars? I assume so, you're here. You like LEGOs? I hope so, because that's what I have for you! Yeah, a couple months back I downloaded BrickLink Studio and started messing around with it, everything from big projects of which I have actually completed... Exactly zero of, mostly because I would need to physically sort out all my LEGOs and that's actual tedious boring work, to little silly stuff that I've shared elsewhere.
ALSO NOTE! SPOILERS FOR THE BAD BATCH FINALE AT TO FOLLOW! THERE WILL BE A FURTHER DISCLAIMER BEFORE YOU GET TO THEM, BUT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
One of those big ones has been my own playscale version of the classic original trilogy RZ-1 A-Wing that properly matches the proportions of the model used on-screen.
RZ-1 A-Wing and pilot, and the beginning of my rage against BLS's lack of minifig parts.
I've had that cooking for a few weeks now. I have the instructions, and there's at least three metric walls of text worth of detailing to drop with it when that happens, I just want to physically test-build it before I release them out into the wild which... Well, see above, but that didn't stop me from being gripped by inspiration early this morning to also create the A-Wing as seen in Rebels. Which made me realize that there are actually FOUR of them.
Rebels A-Wing one.
This one is the one I'm (second) happiest with of the bunch, mostly because the colors match the closest and it was the simplest of the "basic" model to make. There are some changes and concessions I had to make, if I were to consider the Rebels version completely separate from the one in Return of the Jedi (which I do) I should honestly not hold myself as strictly to the RotJ proportions, the animation team certainly didn't, but all-in-all I think it turned out really well regardless.
Rebels A-Wing two.
This one annoys the crap out of me, because all the blue is supposed to be the same color and... well LEGO's part production does not agree with that. In retrospect I probably should've made a render with all the blues the same as a comparison, but I only just now thought to do that and I've been at this for 10 hour by complete accident. Which sucks because this is the one that looks the most like the Ralph McQuarrie concept art of the A-Wing which the Rebels design was based on.
Epic properly colored Rebels A-Wing three.
Busted actually buildable Rebels A-Wing three.
Now despite the last one annoying the crap out of me, THIS ONE annoys me the most. Because the colors are closest to how it appeared onscreen. Yeah, it can't be made in these colors. LEGO doesn't make those parts in dark green. This is, in my humble opinion, a crime. But I digress. I will take a moment to complain that the 3D model has that pretty red stripe RIGHT where the cannons are supposed to connect to the fuselage, which means that I can't just put alternating round plates there to perfectly replicate it, I have to instead put a full-sized brick there, and I can only represent the stripe with a red pin. Could I fix it? Probably. Did I? No. Will I? Maybe, I just want to kvetch about it.
Rebels A-wing four, sans space mom, stupid minifig limitations.
I thought, when taking this on that there were only three A-Wings in Rebels. Then I thought to look up which one Hera flew in the show. Turns out? None of the above, and hers' is really neat looking! I wanted the dark gray to be more of a sand blue color, but LEGO part colors strike yet again. Also having to brick-build the slopes to get the detailing (since it's Hera's I had to put a bit more effort in) was annoying.
But why all of this? What does this have to do with the subject of trans clones? Well, the finale of the Bad Batch aired and showed us Omega leaving to join the Rebellion as a pilot. Which led to this awesome piece of fanart being posted:
art by MMorali
I saw this cool picture on May 4th, left a like, and filed it away on my hard-drive with a whole bunch of other stuff. Then when I woke up this morning I was gripped by inspiration and HAD to make this:
Bonus Rebels A-Wing with best girl.
So all of this, aside from the RZ-1 A-Wing all the way up at the top, has been the result of me having a MIGHTY NEED to make best girl Omega and her fighter as part of Phoenix squadron depicted in that fanart in LEGO form. I was, in fact, so gripped by this urge and launched so headlong into it that it's only as I type this that I realize Omega is flying an X-Wing in that picture. I never claimed to be smart.

So guys I have an old model mehran 2011, it's in good shape and everything that could've been fixed in it is fixed. It's okay for city drive.
I want to gift it to a girl in my family who's using bike to go to college and stuff since her father and brother are not in the picture. Basically she's the man of the house, taking her sister to uni and mother to Dr on bike. She also knows the basics of driving a car.
My own big brother is against this idea, he believes if anyone deserves it, it's his daughter ( who can't drive plus they've their own car plus she's using the transport from college).
This car meant literally nothing to them before I decided to give it away, even made fun of how small and miserable it is.
How can I tell them it's my decision and that kid deserves it more than his daughter without ruining the relationship?

Hello
I have some stuff for sale, trying to pay for my college summer class.
YOLO is king.
CRK KnifeArt exclusive Large Sebenza 31 with carbon fiber scale in Magnacut steel. Timestamp + pics
DOB October 16, 2023. It has some wear sign on the clip side (please make sure to see pics) SV - $550
Spyderco Para 3 Maxamet Timestamp + pics
Got a para 3 maxamet that’s been modded, functions great! Acid washed blade is sharp and its ready to work! SV - $130
Layard beads Timestamp + pics
5 handmade beads.
1 and 2 made of of stabilized buckeye burl, 3 and 4 are stabilized and dyed spalted tamarind, 5 is made from Rhino plastic resin. SV -$40 each (please call the number of the bead you want from the picture)
Everything will ship as soon as possible.

A few years ago I made a simple chart to help me with cloud classification. Since many of the posts here are looking for cloud classification and many of you are answering under the gorgeous pictures that are posted here, I've decided to share it. I dunno, maybe it will help some of you next time you are not sure how to name a cloud. I personally find it helpful, carry a printed-out version on me everywhere I go and use it frequently when I'm not sure.
I'm not a 100% certain there are no mistakes in the table. Feel free to argue with me if you find anything you don't like (but be kind to me, I was 15 when I made this...).
You can find the chart here.

Hey all, just need some help identifying symptoms or seeing if anyone else has had a similar experience. For context, I’m 21M and have been a huge gamer my whole life but switched to keyboard & mouse around 10 years ago. Since I’ve started going to the gym this past year, I’ve noticed some tingling & numbness in my left wrist & index finger when stretching/exercising. I’ve tried to keep an eye on it and do wrist stretches, but never experienced any pain until last night. Basically my thumb, index, & middle finger became super warm & tingly and there was sharp pain shooting all throughout my index finger and through my arm. It was a lot worse pain than I expected and made me feel kind of queasy/light headed. I ended up taking some tylonel PM & passing out. Today, there isn’t any pain but my hand & wrist definitely feel sore & kind of warm and tingly. I assume this is carpal tunnel but just wanted to double check. What should my next steps be?

Ugh, please be nice reddit. I just can't tell with this one.
I joined a social club and met a guy named Ethan (m20) in September. I felt some attraction to him, but was in a long-term relationship at the time, so of course did nothing to act on it. We both took on roles in the club causing us to work closer together around October. I got out of the long term relationship (5 years) in December, and experienced some bad repercussions (stalking, hacked technology, passive threats) by my ex as a result. It was so scary that someone who I saw a legitimate future with turned so cruel and manipulative at the drop of a hat, and though I do not want to go into the extent of everything he did, I should mention affected my schooling, training and permanently ruined my trust in people.
Long story short: Ethan and I admitted feelings in late February. Since he had met my ex and I was still dealing with the tail end of the stalking, I told him about what was going on. When we were talking about the feelings we had for each other, we were laughing over the fact we both believed the other person was out of our league. He also said he pictured me as the type of person he would see himself in a relationship with.
However, I made it clear to him that I do not want a relationship. Though I liked him and wanted to get to know him, I expressed I do not like the idea of relationships right now. He said he had been in many situationships before and was used to them. It didn't have to be anything serious, we could just enjoy each other's company, cuddle, go on dates, have everything be lighthearted.
So, we did that for a while. We dove right into learning about each other and were very upfront about our downfalls. He mentioned he was the jealous type and had been cheated on before, so he feels the need to be overly performative to try and get people to stay. For the second part, I had felt similar in my previous relationship (though my ex hadn't cheated), so I immediately understood what he meant by always having to put on a face for the other person.
While discussing boundaries, Ethan mentioned even during situationships he only ever sees one person at a time and doesn't sleep around. Though we are not together and official, it was an easy tradeoff to just say I wouldn't see other people while he and I were seeing each other--I had no intention to anyway and don't want to do hookups. So, at this point, at his preference, neither of us are planning to see anyone else. I thought that would be it.
Now, a couple of days ago, we were doing a check up on how each of us are doing. I am very happy in our current position--we care about each other, have compatible interests, are sexually compatible and both have been in similar previous relationships and understand what the other has been through. At the same time, it is not so serious that I am worried. He, however, expressed that he still does want a relationship at some point, and went into all that of this with the intention of changing my mind on relationships. He described how the dating phase is like him giving a "sample" of what he would be like as a boyfriend--and this immediately made me wonder how much of this has simply just been him performing.
Here is where I don't know if I'm overreacting: I feel as though he misrepresented what he actually wanted for his own gain. I am greatly struggling with trust since my breakup and for this reason don't know if it's valid that this has affected the trust I had for him. Especially with the "sample" description he's given, I am truly wondering how much he is acting just to try and get me closer. Especially since he knew about the stalking and other scary things my ex did, I had hoped he would feel the need to be upfront and honest with me. I'm meeting up with him on Wednesday to talk about this, and just want to get others opinions on the situation.

This mystery has been going on awhile but he finally made a noise - he’s a Fish Crow!! And that explains his relatively small size too! Has anyone else had experience with these? This one is so much friendlier and fearless compared to the American crows. He was my first (and favorite) crow bro. He seems playful, mischievous, and extremely bright. He always comes alone, even though massive numbers of his kind routinely commute along the north-south corridor near my house (presumably between their coastal territory and inland roosting ground). He’s the only one that pays attention to me. A small group of American crows patrol my neighborhood and regard me as their territory, but Russell seems to enjoy frustrating them by frequently dodging in and eluding their surveillance. He reminds me of the iconic animated Robin Hood, gleefully eluding the king’s guard, tipping his hat at the fair maiden, and making off with the treasure 😆Truthfully I need a better picture of him but when he comes by I’m so enamored I rarely waste time with my phone. He’s just THAT cool.

Ugh, please be nice reddit. I just can't tell with this one.
I joined a social club and met a guy named Ethan (m20) in September. I felt some attraction to him, but was in a long-term relationship at the time, so of course did nothing to act on it. We both took on roles in the club causing us to work closer together around October. I got out of the long term relationship (5 years) in December, and experienced some bad repercussions (stalking, hacked technology, passive threats) by my ex as a result. It was so scary that someone who I saw a legitimate future with turned so cruel and manipulative at the drop of a hat, and though I do not want to go into the extent of everything he did, I should mention affected my schooling, training and permanently ruined my trust in people.
Long story short: Ethan and I admitted feelings in late February. Since he had met my ex and I was still dealing with the tail end of the stalking, I told him about what was going on. When we were talking about the feelings we had for each other, we were laughing over the fact we both believed the other person was out of our league. He also said he pictured me as the type of person he would see himself in a relationship with.
However, I made it clear to him that I do not want a relationship. Though I liked him and wanted to get to know him, I expressed I do not like the idea of relationships right now. He said he had been in many situationships before and was used to them. It didn't have to be anything serious, we could just enjoy each other's company, cuddle, go on dates, have everything be lighthearted.
So, we did that for a while. We dove right into learning about each other and were very upfront about our downfalls. He mentioned he was the jealous type and had been cheated on before, so he feels the need to be overly performative to try and get people to stay. For the second part, I had felt similar in my previous relationship (though my ex hadn't cheated), so I immediately understood what he meant by always having to put on a face for the other person.
While discussing boundaries, Ethan mentioned even during situationships he only ever sees one person at a time and doesn't sleep around. Though we are not together and official, it was an easy tradeoff to just say I wouldn't see other people while he and I were seeing each other--I had no intention to anyway and don't want to do hookups. So, at this point, at his preference, neither of us are planning to see anyone else. I thought that would be it.
Now, a couple of days ago, we were doing a check up on how each of us are doing. I am very happy in our current position--we care about each other, have compatible interests, are sexually compatible and both have been in similar previous relationships and understand what the other has been through. At the same time, it is not so serious that I am worried. He, however, expressed that he still does want a relationship at some point, and went into all that of this with the intention of changing my mind on relationships. He described how the dating phase is like him giving a "sample" of what he would be like as a boyfriend--and this immediately made me wonder how much of this has simply just been him performing.
Here is where I don't know if I'm overreacting: I feel as though he misrepresented what he actually wanted for his own gain. I am greatly struggling with trust since my breakup and for this reason don't know if it's valid that this has affected the trust I had for him. Especially with the "sample" description he's given, I am truly wondering how much he is acting just to try and get me closer. Especially since he knew about the stalking and other scary things my ex did, I had hoped he would feel the need to be upfront and honest with me. I'm meeting up with him on Wednesday to talk about this, but AIO?