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.

My girlfriend (F30) and I (F25) have been together for 4 years. We live 2 hours away from each other. She has meet a lot of my family due to them living in the same state as us, but I have yet to meet her family because they live in Texas. Though we haven't met, I do talk to her mom on FaceTime whenever my girlfriend talks to her so it's not like we have a bad relationship. My girlfriend and I have made attempts to go to Texas to see her but life always came in the way. And though my girlfriend has gone there to see her mom, it usually during the times her mom is going through something or a funeral and she doesn't want me to meet them during situations like that. I did try to meet her mom recently when I was staying over my girlfriends place because she is a truck driver and just happened to be driving through the state, but her mom expressed that she was tired and looked a mess so we didn't get the chance to meet. It was disappointing, however, she did say that she was planning on coming down on mothers day along with my girlfriends brother and his kids.
My mom usually likes taking trips during mothers day weekend and we usually celebrate it as a family the weekend after, so I told my girlfriends mom that we can see each other then. I told my mom about my plans to ensure she didn't feel any type of way about it too which she didn't). My girlfriends family was suppose to stay Friday to Monday morning and she asked if I could come that Saturday night because they were planning on going to see her grandfather 4 hours away. I have to take a bus in order to see her, so once she told me their plans, I booked my ticket the same day. For the past 2 months, my girlfriend has been working overtime in order to help prepare for their arrival and I tried my best to assist with that by buying things for her apartment.
Monday, the week they were coming down, my mom informed me that she was diagnosed with lupus. My mom almost passed away 4 years ago from a blood clot and ever since then, her health has kind of been all over the place. However, for 1 year, it did seem like everything was starting to become under control. So to hear she had lupus, did make me emotional. My mom told me that she was still okay with me meeting my girlfriends mom because she was still going to continue with her own plans. I informed my girlfriend about my mom's diagnosis and she was empathetic about the whole situation.
Fast forward to the day I was preparing to leave, I spoke to my girlfriend that morning and we expressed how excited we were for the overdue introduction in person. When I was in the middle of getting ready, my mom decided to have a conversation with me about mothers day. She expressed that she actually does want my sister and I to spend mothers day together with her because her health is starting to scare her and she doesn't know what will happen in the future. I don't see my mother crying often so to hear her breaking down, hurt me. I never want my mom to feel that she isn't supported so I decided I was going to spend mothers day with her. I called my girlfriend soon after and informed her what was going on. Her happy attitude soon turned to an annoyed one and said "I knew you weren't going to come." I asked her if she was upset and she said no and she loved me then got off the phone with me quickly saying she'll call me back. I texted her expressing how sorry I am and explained to her that it didn't feel right to just meet her mom after my mom broke down to me and up until now, I always had the intention of coming and would love to try and make a trip to her if we can. Though I won't be there in person, I told her that I would love to still speak to them through FaceTime. She told me " they're good, enjoy your family, love you."
I thought maybe things were okay but it feels like she is distant towards me. Whether she's busy with family or friends, she always makes time to at least text me and always calls me at night. The only times she doesn't is when she's upset. She did call me on mothers day that morning, but she asked if she could put my mom on the phone to say happy mothers day and then she hung up immediately after speaking to her. I tried not t jump to conclusions at first and just decided that maybe she'll talk to me after her family leaves cause she could be busy with them but I know they have left now and I still haven't heard anything. She has 2 phones, so even if something happened to her phone, she always makes sure to text me on her other one if something happened. Am I maybe overthinking things or aitah that could have handled things differently? I'm kind of lost on how to go about things and what to do.

Hello fellow forum members,
I hope you're all doing well! Today, I'd like to delve into the world of menstrual discs and discuss which ones are currently considered the best options on the market. With so many choices available, it can be overwhelming to decide which menstrual disc is right for you. That's why I'm hoping we can share our experiences and insights to help each other make informed decisions.
Firstly, for those who might not be familiar, menstrual discs are innovative menstrual products that are worn internally to collect menstrual fluid. They offer a discreet and eco-friendly alternative to pads and tampons, and many people find them more comfortable and convenient once they get the hang of using them.
Now, onto the main question: which menstrual disc reigns supreme in today's market? Here are a few top contenders based on user reviews, features, and overall popularity:

1. Flex Disc: One of the pioneers in the menstrual disc arena, Flex Disc has garnered a strong following for its comfortable fit and mess-free design. Made from medical-grade materials, it's known for its ease of insertion and removal.
2. Softdisc: Another notable option is Softdisc, which boasts a flexible, disposable design that molds to your body's shape for leak-proof protection. Its thin profile and comfortable feel make it a favorite among many users.
3. Nixit: For those looking for a reusable option, Nixit is gaining traction as an eco-friendly alternative. Made from silicone, it offers a high capacity and can be worn for up to 12 hours, making it ideal for busy lifestyles.
4. Ziggy Cup: While technically not a disc, Ziggy Cup deserves a mention for its unique flat-fit design that sits comfortably against the cervix. It's reusable and offers mess-free period sex, making it a game-changer for many users.

I invite everyone to share their experiences with menstrual discs, whether positive or negative, as well as any tips or recommendations you may have. Let's empower each other to find the perfect menstrual solution for our unique needs!
Looking forward to hearing your thoughts and insights.

Hello everybody! I believe this topic can be quite stupid, but sometimes it really bothers me and I'm not sure where I can seek help. I've (23) been married to a man (27) for half a year. We had a number of problems at the beginning: together we were overcoming our previous relationships with our ex-partners, solving some problems concerning his manner of communication and my hypersensitivity, our insecurities, some pivotal moments like my graduation from the university and moving from my parents for the first time. He came to my country to be with me and later I left everything I had to move to another country with him. We're learning how to navigate through our conflicts, though at first it wasn't easy at all. Every time I wanted to share my feelings I felt numb and couldn't say anything and when I finally were saying something he felt it as an attack. We solved almost ALL of that and now it's much better, but... Sometimes I have a feeling that something is wrong. Sometimes I think that we're too different: he likes to spend time at home playing videogames, I'm a sociable person and I can't spend a week without going out at least twice. He lives in the moment, I prefer to plan everything to feel safe. He doesn't need some cute gestures and romance, and I feel frustrated every time I remember how many flowers and compliments he was giving me at the beginning of our relationship and now. We find compromises. We have one day-off for me and one day-off for him. I explain to him that it is important for me to get flowers as a sign of his love and care sometimes. Once we went to a couples' counseling, but the psychologist just told us that we have good communication and didn't say anything interesting or useful. In short, sometimes I just get tired of this necessity to explain how to treat me, how not to hurt me, with these attempts to find compromises and stuff. He hears me, I also hear him, I feel good dynamics, but I've been in a long-term relationship before (6 years), and it felt much easier, to be honest.
Now he gives me flowers and we spend whole day out once a week, sometimes we go for a walk during weekdays, I also give him whole day to play and relax the way he wants. I feel free to speak my mind and he always tries to understand me. Every time we have an argument we try to support each other. We have interesting discussions about everything and share some of our interests.
But every time I check my Instagram and see these perfect couples I start to think something like "Maybe they just found someone perfectly compatible with them? Maybe it's not always that difficult?" Maybe I'm just too naive, I won't argue with that, I really want to understand, I want to learn something real. Sometimes I see different girls' comments like "The main thing is to find the right man", "The main thing is to find a man you won't need to ask" etc. Maybe they're right and I'm not? Or maybe everything is great and I'm just overthinking? Or maybe I'm also perfectly fine but that's just the first year of our relationship and we're going through difficult times with immigration and getting used to each other?
I'm open to any option, I want to understand. Thank you <3

Hey all. I've been playing Helldivers 2 for about a month now and must say it's fantastic. I'm brand new to the sub and felt like sharing some thoughts so here goes! Feel free to agree or disagree with anything as I'd love to hear what anyone has to say.
Let's get the obvious hot topic out of the way first. The new Warbond! A little lack-luster to be sure but not worthless. I think the new booster is almost a must-have for high diffi bug missions and incendiary impacts are nice! Although I don't understand how they really leave room for the traditional incendiary grenades to have a place in any loadout.
As for the guns the Pummeler is the clear W here. The stunlocking feels fantastic especially when you have friendly divers playing around you. The other new primaries and secondary seem to lack an identity amongst already established choices so hopefully they get some work done to them. (This has actually made me wonder if Palestedt's earlier ask for delaying the warbond may have been a sneaky hope that we would give them some more time to work it out, but I don't know why he wouldn't just ask directly then given the circumstances.)
Lastly on the warbond, armors. And I wanted to talk about them last in order to segue into armor in general as a topic. Not much going on in the warbond. All armors have perk and value combos we already have access to. New looks are nice but what we really want are new traits or trait combos we aren't used to, which brings me to armor in general.
I can respect the idea that armor is less used as an impactful choice and more along the lines of a playstyle selection. I wouldn't say this is a problem and in fact might be exactly what Arrowhead is going for, however it seems like it would be cool to shake some of these perks up a bit. Servo-assist + Arc resist? Explosive resist + Extra stims? Recoil reduce + Reduced Detection? Ok that last one might be too good but you get the idea. The fact that we are already starting to pile armors that have the exact same function makes me wonder if we should just have 1 shown in our list with a pullout menu to select what style we want it in. Maybe something for the future to decrease clutter. Also on the topic of NEW perks why don't we have a fire resist armor yet? I'd almost consider it solely on the issue of I still get insta-melted by flame hulks fairly often. But aside from that it would be a pick that allows more aggression when running flamethrower and might even be worthwhile to run on planets with fire tornadoes.
So let's get to talking weapons a little. Obviously in a PVE setting, fun is paramount. Even if a gun is powerful, if it's a painful slog to use it, it isn't fun. A gun can also feel good, but be functionally useless, and this also isn't fun. Creating a diverse armory of weapons with different functions and making all of them useful and interesting in their own way is hard. You never want content that is so bad that nobody uses it. But creating weapons so powerful that you're sandbagging merely by picking anything else is a problem as well. One of the boons that Helldivers 2 has to it's name is how the factions differ from eachother and how they demand different loadouts. For example, I love where the new Blitzer is. It's a powerful choice for bug squashing, but will leave you wondering how you can possibly close distance against bots. I think this kind of balance is great and not every weapon need be effective in every scenario. But I also love the Sickle, and have no issue taking it to either bugs or bots. It's shortcomings become clear against large targets. With all of this in mind, it makes me more excited for the introduction of a new faction, and how many more options the devs will gain for weapon balances within differing scenarios. What loadouts will Illuminate demand? Will under-used loadouts finally see some use planetside? I'm not going to really talk about the eruptoquasar changes or how I feel about them since I'm sure everyone is exhausted with that. I was never an eruptor fan anyway being a gigachad autocannon enjoyer. My primary is usually a small target clearing tool. I will say on the topic of the Slugger, I really only think they slightly over-nerfed it. I took it out just the other day and was surprised at how useful it still really is which goes to show just how immensely powerful it was pre-nerf. Maybe pulling it up just a little will make it a good choice on the bot front again. Aside from the newer weapons I have to say I actually think Arrowhead has done fairly well here. I see lots of varying weapons on the battlefield as I see divers using all sorts of primaries and supports that they find fun and useful. Also a little side note on the Spear: I think if they manage to make the locking mechanism a bit less wonky, I think it has the potential to be one of the most powerful tertiary picks in the game.
I also wanted to spend a moment with the change to how patrols work. Even as someone who will solo dive from time to time, I actually don't mind it too much because what it means for full 4 person games. With this change, effectively the only things a Helldiver can do wrong, is die or team kill. You are making the mission easier simply by virtue of being on the battlefield. This means that as long as you aren't murdering your fellow divers, (traitors excluded) just staying alive is helpful. Seeing as every diver (not factoring in IRB booster) brings 5 reinforcements to the table, you really aren't dragging down your team at all until you've cost the team MORE than 5 reinforcements. I think this allows for maximum freedom of playstyle around your team and I feel outweighs the downsides of diving without a full squad.
Since I brought up a booster there, let's talk about them a little. They are, well, weird to me. I simply don't see a world where increased reinforcement budget and flexible reinforcement budget are anything but planning for failure, and if you are failing, maybe it's because you brought them. Full ammo (and notably stims) on drop, injury resist, less patrols and bonus stamina are all such good choices it's hard to part with them for anything. The new booster I think is an example of the kind of stuff we need to shake up what's brought on missions more and I hope to see more like it in the future.
Another thing I can think of I'd like to bring up for now is orders. While I think we should always be able to work on whatever front we choose to play on, maybe we should have something available to sweeten the deal a little when doing missions that fall under the major order? Not sure if an exp bonus or anything would do it or be on the table at all but it's a thought. Being someone who enjoys being a part of completing the major orders whenever they are active, this brings me to a minor complaint. If the major order is on the Automaton front, but my PERSONAL order is to get flamethrower kills... I'm not bringing that to fight bots sorry. Maybe this is something that won't or doesn't even need to be changed, but it does bother me a little to be pulled away from the team objective to hold a terminid barbecue on the other side of the galaxy. I suppose there's always just choosing not to do the personal order in a day too. As I said before, this is a very minor gripe.
Stratagems almost all seem good and useable in a variety of situations except I can't for the life of me understand why Eagle Cluster Bomb has more uses than Eagle Strafing Run. Seems like just a straight buff to Strafing Run to have 5 or even 6 uses (adjusted with ship module) per rearm would land it safely in the category of probably still never used unless I could find a way to consistantly kill more than 4-6 light enemies with it.
Anyway that's about everything I can think of for now. If you read all the way here thank you so much for listening to me shamelessly lay out my thoughts in one post and I hope you enjoyed reading! Keep on fighting for freedom divers. And if you see Ogre on the battlefield I assure you he loves hugs. Cheers!

Hello, my name is Lillian and I am looking for 1 trans fem player to join a ttrpg I am running on Roll20.Net. The communication for the game is handled via Discord [my discord name is lexshira]. Our game allows a lot of freedom for players for example one player we had recently who unfortunately had to leave the game due to schedule issues was Kryptonian Keyblade Master LOL.
What the Party Needs From This Posting: Someone who is math, organization and resource-minded who can aid the party in managing their HOMEBASE/RESOURCES. This would include helping manage the various departments of the base [Security, Logistics, R&D, Tourism/Economics/Treasury, Medical, etc.]
Game Info: The game is an adventure/horror game with heavy LGBT+ and Sex-Positive vibes and themes.
Since I live in Pacific Time then the playtimes will revolve around that. Game will be on Sundays starting at 1:30PM Pacific time.
Game System = The game system is my own creation but use the 5e Character Sheet as a base. In the spirit of honesty, my game system does have a learning curve as it goes beyond an RPG and contains elements/mechanics related to Community/Base Building/Management, Resource Management, Living World NPCs and Survivalism.
The Story = The story is based on my own mythologies but also draws influence and content from other sources such as a variation of Curse of Strahd, Murder House, Dark Sun, Cyberpunk, Elder Scrolls and Descent Into Avernus. Other Multimedia events and things likely to affect the world in some ways are things like Marvel Comic's 'Battle-World', House of M, and 'Secret Wars' events.
Game Setting = The game will take place on the newly forming world of Nouva-Terra. Nouva-Terra is a world born out of the ashes of Multiversal destruction. It is a world formed of the merged remnants of other realities and populated by the countless multiverse survivors of that apocalyptic merging.
Content Rating = Rated M due to violence, dark themes, heavy sexuality, and sexual themes of both a vanilla [Loving caring relationships, etc.] and of a disturbing nature based on context.
Gameplay Focus = Combat will be minimal but still present with most gameplay focusing on Player-Character Driven events and story with a focus on Interpersonal Intrigue, Political Intrigue, Mystery/Puzzle solving, Romance / Sexuality and Found-Family issues. There will also be focus on Survivalism and Community/Base Building/Management.
Game Frequency = Weekly or every other week.
NO ONE UNDER 18 YEARS OLD.
Currently Confirmed Realities That Have Already Begun Merging With Nova-Terra [Note the players do not need to be in any way familiar with any of this content but things from these realities exist in the game]:

1. The Prime Elder-Scrolls Timeline
2. The Prime Fallout Timeline
3. The MCU and Various Marvel Realities
4. Various DC Realities
5. The Prime Star-Wars Timeline
6. Various D&D and Pathfinder Timelines
7. The Prime Terminator Timeline
8. Various Zelda Timelines
9. Prime DBZ Timeline
10. Prime Star-Trek Timeline
11. Prime Code-Lyoko Timeline
12. Prime Kingdom Heats Timeline

Player Code of Conduct:

1. There is to be NO and I repeat NO PLAYER TO PLAYER Non-Con sexuality or Romance-Attempts.
2. There is to be NO UNPROVOKED PVP.
3. NO PROMOTION OF SEXISM OR HATRED OR ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES OR BULLYING BETWEEN PLAYERS.
4. There is to be no PLAYER TO PLAYER Kink-Shaming or Sexual-Judgment. We all have our kinks and it is important not judge. If you do not like a kink being shown in the game by another player then simply do not involve yourself or your character which those particular In-Game things happening.

open, and again I heard a loud moan, and my heart was pounding in my chest. Before this, I was afraid I ruined this girl’s innocence, and now my cock was rock hard with lust and desire to see more. I inch my way to the door and what I see changed my life forever.
Samantha was laying down on her bed, wearing nothing at all, watching a video on her phone (I later found out she was watching the video she took of me). She had her legs spread out, rubbing herself, her fingers damp with her wetness coming from her small but plump, pink pussy. Her moans were soft then loud, then I heard her moaning a name… my name! “Ugh, Sebastian… I need you so bad… MMM… I need your dick… fuck me…”
It didn’t seem like she knew that I was there, but I decided to surprise her, so I undo my belt and fly, and walk into the room. She had her eyes closed so she didn’t see me in her room, as I began stroking all over her. I position myself right over her body, and in that moment she opens her eyes in shock and surprise, but quickly continues her self-indulgence. The lust in her eyes was visible, her switching between staring at my dick and staring into my eyes. Seeing this eleven year old beauty sexually stimulating herself as I am stimulating myself was almost enough to push me over the edge. It took me everything I had to not cum immediately. This little angel was making me think the unholiest thoughts, wanting to ram my cock inside her tight preteen love hole.
Eventually I cannot hold on, as I shoot my love seed (even more than earlier) all over her body, and that also sent her over the edge, screaming and panting as her legs shook uncontrollably. As we both were coming down from our post-orgasm high, I lower myself unto this young girl and kiss her on the lips, and then we started to add a little tongue. My hard never did not lose any of its hardness, and quite frankly it felt like I didn’t need a break to start up again, but at the same time I had just blown two huge loads, so I was probably near wasted. I lowered a hand and started to feel her wetness, which I made sure to cover my hand with it, then I licked it all off my hand. She in turn did the same with my cum, licking and sucking her fingers. We returned to kissing, both our mouths filled with each others cum. After a few minutes, I hear a car arriving, which was my father coming with my mom, who was the cook for the family. I got up and helped her get dressed, and I begged her to not tell anyone what we did. She gave me a devilish grin and said, “I won’t only if you promise to do this with me every time we can”. Then she showed me her phone and said, “If you don’t, I’ll show them this and you’ll be in so much trouble”. I can’t believe I was getting blackmailed by an eleven year old, but it wasn’t hard to accept the offer anyway. This began our life as lovers, even though I was just the butler.

Hey guys I'm si glad this community exists! My mam has always had sensitivity to nickel and I seem to have developed it due to exposure.
On March 16th I was at a wedding and wore a necklace that was sterling silver, the necklace had an extender on it from Swarovski that may have nickel in it. I woke up the next morning and my neck was angry red, sensitive and itchy.
It's now May 14th and though I havent worn any other necklaces the reaction hasn't gone completely. It goes between calming a bit but there still being marks to being red, angry and itchy.
My derm reccommended I use eumovate cream on it to treat the allergy, which had been fine for a little while. The other day I put the cream on after taking off my makeup and I had a bad burning sensation. I immediately took it off. I've tried calming it with vaseline and mild moisturisers, along with taking anti-histamines, nothing seems to get rid of it. I've contacted my derm with the below pictures and I'm waiting to hear back.
I've been looking online to see if I can see anyone else whose had a similar reaction to mine. Any advise/wisdom you can throw my way would be greatly appreciated!
These photos have been taken on different days when the reaction is at different degrees of severity.

Hey everyone,
I'm seeking guidance and insights from professionals in the field. I've been passionate about health and fitness for years, and I'm excited to pursue a career where I can help others achieve their wellness goals.
As I navigate this transition, I would greatly appreciate any advice or tips from seasoned professionals.
Specifically, I'm interested in learning about:

1. Essential skills and qualifications needed to thrive in the personal training industry.
   
2. Strategies for building a strong client base and establishing credibility.
   
3. Challenges that professionals faced when transitioning into personal training and how they overcame them.
   
4. Opportunities for professional development and growth within the industry.
   

If you're a personal trainer or have experience in the field, I would love to hear your insights and recommendations. Any resources or recommendations you can provide would be immensely helpful.
Thank you all in advance for your time and expertise. I'm looking forward to connecting with this amazing community and learning from your experiences!

Obviously I want to use as many (or preferably all) of the frenzied flame spells as I can so I imagine mind, int, and faith are gonna be important. But what build or weapons would make for a good completely insane character that would be willing to burn the world.
I guess I’m looking for something that’s high damage, I don’t know if this is gonna need to be a faith build or not, I was looking into beast incantations if that’s the case, but really I just want to hear some recommendations from people that have played the game through a bunch and know the available spells better than me!
Thank you in advance!
Edit: bonus points for what I can do to come off as insane or evil that isn’t just “kill all npc’s!!”

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.

I go through pretty bad depressive episodes, during which I find it VERY hard to bring myself to cook and eat. On top of that I’m a rather picky eater, which limits my options even further.
Criteria I’m looking for realistically: - Minimal dishes afterwards: The more dishes to do after cooking, the less inclined I am to make the meal. Things that can go in the dishwasher are fine.

• Minimal active cook time: A thirty minute recipe where most of it is passively waiting is doable, thirty minutes of standing over a pot, etc, is not.
  
• Microwave meals are preferred: I’m open to specific suggestions of just boxes of frozen foods to try by as their own meals in the microwave.
  
• Stove and oven for a single meal is not ideal: I’m open to using the stove or oven on a day with extra energy to prepare microwave meals for the next few days, but generally I don’t feel it’s worth the energy to use either for one meal with no leftovers.
  

Specific meal examples (my repertoire as of now):
Single meals: - Smoothies: My typical smoothies are some combination of bananas, frozen strawberries, chopped apples, vanilla or strawberry yogurt, peanut butter, almond milk, and ovaltine. Any specific smoothie recipes or other ingredients are welcome.

• Chicken nuggets: frozen nuggets in the microwave for just a few minutes.
  
• Frozen taquitos: frozen in the microwave for a couple minutes.
  
• Instant ramen: stove or microwave.
  
• Cereal: just a bowl of cereal and milk, occasionally with fruit.
  
• Fruit: I’ll pick at grapes or strawberries or other fruit in the fridge, I’ll chop up a few apples when I have energy to eat as snacks or in smoothies for a few days, bananas, clementines, etc.
  
• Frozen veggies: my go-to’s are corn and broccoli.
  

Meal prep: - Pasta for days: Boil a box of pasta on the stove. Put sauce only on what I’m going to eat (and eat it). Put the leftovers in a ziploc bag. When I’m hungry again, take a serving of cooked pasta out of the bag, microwave it, put some sauce in a small bowl, microwave it, combine the sauce and pasta. First meal is 20 minutes on the stove with a pot or two to wash in the sink, but I can have pasta for days after for 3 minutes of prep and no dishes that can’t go in the dishwasher. THIS is the kind of meal prep I’m hoping for.
I’m open to any suggestions I can get - even if it doesn’t meet all of my excessive criteria, I’d love to hear any and all ideas! Thank you so much in advance <3

He wasn’t old, but…
He had said that if one day, when he was old, if he couldn’t walk on his own two legs, if he lost the ability to do the things he loved, he would take a long walk into the desert and end it himself. i always scoffed at this idea. “Like that will ever happen.” I’d think to myself. He’d laugh bashfully, spout out a sarcastic joke to clear the air, and leave me to do whatever it was teenage me did.
These memories come in waves
i can feel my lungs fill and tighten
drowning, gasping for air
bubbling up to the surface
my eyes water - the pain I’ve suppressed leaks out
He wasn’t old, but he couldn’t remember what day it was anymore.
I try to stop it
as if the dam hasn’t already broken
i choke back my tears
clench my teeth
squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I can
the one thing I can’t turn off is my own brain
the memories
one after the other
flood in through the cracks
even with my eyes closed
they tear their way through my vision
demanding to be seen
to be felt
to be heard
He wasn’t old, but his seizures were keeping him from walking steadily.
He’d knock on my door so gingerly
“Hey JoJo”
I’d roll my eyes.
“Whatcha up to?” he’d ask.
“Nothin.”
“Alright alright… I won’t bug you no more.”
He’d bring the door to the softest close.
He wasn’t old, but he hadn’t been able to do what he’d loved in years.
If only he could knock on my door one more time. If I could talk with you just one more time. If I could hear your voice just one more time…
He wasn’t old, but he wasn’t himself anymore.
I’m forgetting what his voice sounded like.
Im forgetting what he looked like.
Did he like to dance?
What was fatherhood like for him?
Were his hugs warm?
I can’t remember anymore.
He wasn’t old… and he never will be.

i fart bars like i’m mr.pooptastic
you start cars with rims blue plastic back split
aye you suckin on ur dad’s dick
-cause you ain’t affording that shit
i got more rings then ur momma leopard pantyhose
neck drippin like her pussy when i’m dress in clothes
bent toes, farting post pintos, aye
she beggin round cinco.
bruh
you think your the shit? nah
you the poop scooper i’m the shit you pickin up
star trooper kid finna draw an miss ya shot
I dupe koopas like a king, hands! stick em up!
(mhm) this an armed robbery, bob and weave, caught ‘em free ain’t “stop! police!” the hot Belize thots for me. cheese! spread her cheeks like cheddar
let her, “papa please, not a dick better”
yeah i’m mr.pooptastic
i fart bars when i rap shit
got you prayin like a baptist
pass this along to your waistband elastic
“last ditch effort, to save yourself the gas’ light”
i’m throwin heat like magmatic cores
What's in store for you? a snore, a four?
more or less i guess,
the static roar, comin at u with my claws drawn out,
now lemme hear you shout,
“mr. pooptastic my balls gone drought, i can’t seem to get girls like you, we’re all done out”
raw prawn, plowed a fawn brawn gal named dawn
son now you gonna understand?
that I'm mr. pooptastic
and you ain’t ever gonna have this
why?
wanna give it deeper thought?
guess you finnna keep the peeper soft
cause even eunuchs get more “P” then boss
your curse is really tryna keep ‘em off
i think you victimizing everything
woe is me ya tricks an lies embarrassing
saying i don’t want no sex just love
blamin the hex they want your -
i don’t believe that
i think you see that
and that pisses you off
soft boy angle sayin “please keep it on”
i just want love no sex
i just want love no sex
what a thin guise
see through the cries
that ain’t no curse
just lies
worse, just like other guys
mercy, mercy, mercy

For context, I’m currently in a new state for a half a year doing an internship and I’m trying to furnish my room. As a young college student (19F) I don’t really have an excess of money to spend so I went to a discount store nearby in search of furniture. Upon walking in my eyes were immediately drawn to this bright orange spinning desk chair in really good condition (only a few small scruffs in the top corner of the chair) and it was only $10! I knew I needed it so I grabbed the chair and pushed it around the store with me while looking for other things. At one point an employee pulled me aside and asked where I found the chair and when I told her she replied by saying “better keep a close eye on it cause someone might try and snag it from you.” I assumed she was joking so I laughed and moved on. Admittedly, I made the mistake of leaving the chair unattended while looking at some of the clearance discounted things, but when I tried to go back to it I saw the same employee moving the chair away from me! I ran up behind her to confront her and she said she was “just moving it out of the way” (the chair was tucked in a corner, NOT IN THE WAY). So at that point I kinda laughed it off and passive aggressively thanked her before making sure the chair was in my sight at ALL times. She continued to watch me the rest of the time I was there and when I went to check out she was conveniently at the register right next to the one I was at. She was sharing with her coworker (at a volume just loud enough for me to hear) how she has been needing a chair just like the one I found and how she works a lot, has children, isn’t doing well financially, and how it’s so frustrating to “watch people who can probably afford new items come to the discount store and buy all the good things” (her words). I did start to feel bad a little bit cause even though I’m not super wealthy like she assumed, I would be okay without the desk chair. I’ll admit that I did already have a bean bag chair that I brought from home that I could have used as a place to sit while doing homework. I almost caved and gave the employee the chair until the lady checking me out informed me that she couldn’t sell me the chair because there was no barcode price sticker on it. Right so that’s when I knew something was up cause the selling point of the chair for me was the fact that “it was only $10!” How would I have known that if there was not a price on the chair?? So I began to look around like a crazy person for the barcode sticker as the lady at the register grows more and more unamused with my antics until finally, the employee who previously tried to steal my chair magically finds the sticker. When I tell you I was LIVID. I completed the purchase and marched out with my stuff without offering the employee a thank you for “finding my sticker”. Now that I’ve had time to sit back (in my new chair btw) and reflect I do feel bad about how I behaved while leaving. Yes what she did wasn’t cool, but she was an older lady who probably does work a lot and is doing her best to provide for her family, and I’m a college student who’s only gonna be here for a half a year then I’ll probably have to sell the chair when I go back home. I do genuinely love the chair I’m just not pleased by how I got it. I kind of bought it out of spite.

Hey all, I have had a Leica M11 about a year now and overall it's a great camera. Two things annoy the hell out of me though:

• The time it takes from switching the camera on to taking a photo is too long, even when in standby.

You switch the dial and wait a beat until you hear a "click" before you can start to shoot. Or alternatively if in standby you have to press the shutter button down halfway to hear that same "click". It sounds small but honestly it's a beat too long. Compared to the M9 where I could shoot basically instantly, it's one of the main things I miss about the M9.

• The "memory full" prompt is so annoying. I get the "memory full" prompt, OK I delete a few photos, try to shoot, and STILL get the "memory full" prompt again.

Again miss this from the Leica M9, where "memory full" literally meant memory full, and I could delete one or two photos quickly to shoot something. But now I have to delete quite literally 10+ photos sometimes to get that prompt to go away. There will be people more organised than me reading this going "well clear more storage BEFORE you shoot" and I'm like my M9 was cool with it, why isn't the M11.
I do a fair bit of travel and street photography. These two things are small but they add up to me missing really pivotal shots which I normally would have got on the M9.
Anyway will anyone read this, does anyone care, I don't know. But if someone gets to here and has a few workarounds in the settings or something let me know and thanks in advance!

Over the last few days, I can’t help but think my husband might respect and value his mother more. I’m not sure if I’m just overthinking this but here are a few examples.

1. His mother would give him unsolicited advice on personal things and he would just nod his head and agree to it. A good example is when I was pregnant, his mother told him the placenta should be buried under a tree and I got no say in this. She would want to speak with my husband personally without me being there and my husband wouldn’t say anything to this. Another example was that she told my husband she’d book tickets (not ask) when I’m about to deliver and stay with us indefinitely. And my husband didn’t object to this.
   
2. When it came to exciting work news or an update, he would call his mum every Tuesday at 8pm because this is the time that suited her and tell her things I had no idea about. When I asked him about it, he said he tells his mother and not me because he’s run out of things to talk to her about.
   
3. Her mother once yelled and screamed at me because she was telling her husband and his sister that they are broken children because of their father. I stepped in and said that’s very uncalled for. She yelled and screamed at me for interfering. My husband sat there and said nothing. I asked him why he didn’t and he said if he said something, it would make her more mad.
   
4. His mother was telling my sis in law that I was a liar when she asked me not to form a relationship with my child and father in law. And when I approached the matter with my husband, all he said is she needs therapy and it takes time for people to change and I need to be more empathetic to this whole situation, because that’s his mum.
   
5. She tried to fight me over text, call me rude and disrespectful while I was having painful contractions. Never contacted me throughout the pregnancy. Wrote long hateful text messages. When I was 7cm dilated, my husband reads out a message from my MiL telling me how I should be breathing. My BP shot up and I was at risk of preclampsia. They were more concerned because this is how my mum lost her first child and almost died. When I asked him why he did that, he said he thought it was a positive message from his mum.
   
6. She stopped talking to us because we set boundaries for everyone about who can visit our baby and she didn’t appreciate it. We didn’t hear from her for 2 months and my husband said he won’t respond until she adheres to our boundaries. I thought finally, a breakthrough and he is standing up. I then find out, he’s been sending her photos of our baby this whole time. When I asked him about it, he became defensive asked what’s the big deal. And I explained that what she has done has been very hurtful and quite unforgivable. He keeps saying that’s my mother, and you want me to ice her out which I’ve pretty much done. I’m like you’re sending baby photos of our son and she doesn’t even want to apologize and reconcile with me. And he said he’s using the baby photos as a way to entice to speak so he can try reconciling. I thought this was weird. And honestly, he never would have told me about it, if I didn’t ask. He then says that I have to be open minded because that’s what his therapist told him. I said I have been but I don’t appreciate us giving so many chances and your mum can’t even pick up the phone to reconcile but can talk crap about me to your sister. He then proceeds to give mother an expensive Mother’s Day gift- spent $110. It’s my first Mother’s Day this year, and he got me a mug and flowers- $50.
   

Please give it to me straight, because I’m tired of feeling let down. In all honestly, I feel more upset at myself because I’m letting my self worth being dragged through the mud.

I have this friend from when I was 17(I am 26 almost 27 now) we had a good friendship with lots of fun, laugther and we shared alot of the same struggles with mental health which made us closer. We graduated from our High School and then kept seeing eachother the last 10 years. Something I noticed is that I am usually the one reaching out to meet or ask her how she is. We meet up and we have a good Long talk over coffe once in a while. However I started to notice a pattern, that if I don’t reach out I will not hear anything. I kept messaging her and checking in on her. She never checks Up on me. She never share anything unless I write to her and ask. Finally some weeks ago I started to get tired of this. I asked her and she said that it was nice to see me 2-4 times a year but she can’t mentally manage meeting more frequently because of her university etc. I said I understand, But I really wished she could then just text me once in a while to check in on me like I do with her. That was too much for me to ask - she couldn’t handle that. I then tried to Explain my emotions that I feel really Hurt and I thought we could be better friends since we had been friends for 10 years. She was very cold in her messages and just Said that she only wanted to be friends because she was nervous I didn’t have anyone to talk to. I then said to her that I have a good handful of friends who I talk with so that wasn’t the case. I asked her why are you me just because you are worried I don’t have anyone to talk to. She then replied that she also gets something our of it by talking with me. I told her I can’t be her friends if she can’t at least muster a ‘Hello How are you’ message occationaly. She Said sorry I cant give you What you want. Then she wrote another message saying ‘I can’t handle this right now let me reach out to you in 2 months and let us see’ I feel really hurt and I feel like it has opened some old wounds from ex friends who didn’t care about me and where it was me caring too much.
I don’t know What to do next. Is it worth trying to make mends?

Men of reddit! Thank you for taking the time to have a look at my question. I am a female, dating men. I have OFTEN had this situation happen: start talking over an app or text, really fun conversations over 1-3 days, lots in common, should be a decent match, and then it peters off and fizzles out by that third day. I always do my best to stay relevant and interesting, suggest meeting sooner than later, etc.. Now, I know there is a LOT of dopamine when starting to talk to someone new, but it's really starting to get exhausting. It's as if I can tell within the first few hours of chatting, if he's enthusiastic and excited, I'll stop hearing from him within the next 2 days. If he's much calmer and slower to respond, we'll likely meet up. Having trouble managing my expectations, and being engaged. What's happening here? Do I have the answer, is it just dopamine that wears out really fast, and then they move on?

This is a serious hot take, but hear me out. First we need to define terms: love is the idea of the desire for the good of another. Romance is the physical manifestation of love, in the form of respective surrender of mind, body, heart, and soul to the other. Romance is a hopefully lifelong endeavor between two people. There is no real end to romance. Sex, no matter how you cut it, always involves imposing your will on another to find a means to an end. The two possible ends are: pleasure or procreation or both. If you consciously seek eitheor, you are reducing your partner as a means to an end, which isn’t romantic because romantic acts should have no goal of reducing your partner or using them towards any specific goal. Even if you choose to have sex in such a way that is merely “open” to the consequences as opposed to seeking a specific result, the possible consequence of pregnancy despite use of measures such as birth control ensures that the act is always an imposition. I cannot personally find any way that sex fits in with what I consider real romantic acts: holding, hugging, cuddling, eye contact, nude cuddling, kissing, massaging, etc… all these other acts can happen for as long as you want them to, and can be expressed freely without consequence unlike the sexual act. Tl;dr I cannot see how sex fits into a romantic lifestyle, and I personally wish to avoid it unless my partner and I explicitly agree to open ourselves up to the possibility of creating a child together.