Story:
Pretheyre; Kingdoms of Grey and Gold
The vast kingdom of Pretheyre and its constituent realms lay on the dangerous precipice of change. For over two centuries the lineage of the highest sovereign in the lands and bearer of the Auric Crown has guided the people in peace and prosperity, owing in many ways to the strong but beneficent nature of the royal line. But others attribute the successes to an entirely different, and altogether distant, source: the magocratic societies of Ravenfolk from the main continent who have subtly guided the peoples of Geridreon since time immemorial. But, regardless of which is more the case, a sudden silence that has fallen abroad has many beginning to consider that some tragedy may have occurred on the ancient continent across the sea. And from that, whispers of dark omens ahead and doubt in the further authority of the king begin to spread… and factions from all across the kingdom move in accordance with them.
You are, as yet, a small part in one such faction. You might belong to one of any number of factions. A knight of the Auric Order itself, a mage from House Myrddin’s pet university, a shadowy agent under House Ossimir, an adventurer’s guild member loosely employed by the young House Arascalon, or even from a faction entirely counter to the established bodies that govern the Prytheyric Isle… the list could go on. But from wherever you hail, and whoever you represent, you have been sent to the Lamelight region to investigate, report on, and aid in a number of odd goings on there. A resurgence of activity from the Feywild, religious and ideological conflicts, rumors of dark magic and cults, and not least of all the continuing political uncertainty in regard to a new family uplifted unceremoniously by the king himself to a seat amongst the Thirteen Great and Noble Houses. The Lamelight is far from the only region seeing levels of unrest, but all eyes are on it now. And soon to be on you as well!
General Information:

• A long-term campaign; currently at level 4 and expected to go to around level 12
• The campaign will be weighted more towards RP and story, with combat sprinkled throughout (I try to have at least one combat encounter prepped per session, but sessions entirely without combat will occur)
• Sundays weekly at 4 PM GMT+2 and lasting 4 Hours
• Looking for 1 player to join our group, 18+ and with experience playing D&D5e preferred
• We will be using Foundry for gameplay and Discord for voice chat
• Crafting and Downtime rules will be optionally available
• Further house rules will be discussed upon character creation

Character Creation:

• Character at level 4
• Ability Scores: choice of Point Buy, Standard Array, or Rolling
• HP at level-up: Average or Rolling (able to choose differently each time)
• Race/Background/Class: All official WotC content is allowed, plus a selection of content from pre-approved Homebrew sources

If interested and/or have questions feel free to message me directly to discuss things further!

For context: I drive a 2005 Pontiac Vibe, and it is a VERY recognizable car (bright pink spray paint). Im not sure if I should be concerned or threatened.
A few days ago, I went to work (delivery driving) and I started my shift by waiting 45-60 minutes for a delivery. I was inside the whole time, and there are no outdoor cameras. When I came back out to my car, I didn’t notice any oil under my car. I get in, start it, drive 3 feet, notice she’s being weird, and see my oil light on. I pull back into the lot and see my oil filter and a pile of oil on the ground.
I fixed it with a new filter and filling her back up. She sounds normal and she was only on for 30 seconds between all that.
Here’s my concern: I do my own oil, and I’ve never had anything like this happened. I figured maybe I forgot to put oil on the gasket when I did it, or maybe I didn’t tighten it enough. However, my car was totally fine when I first got to work, and there is not a drop of oil between my house and my job (I live maybe a minute or two away). Shouldn’t it leak slowly if it was unwinding itself? There’s no leaks where I park at home, I drove that morning with no issues, and overall this came out of nowhere.
Another thing that is weird is the oil filter landed gasket-down. The parking lot is a very slight slope, but still a slope. If the oil filter just fell off, wouldn’t it most likely land on its side and roll?
Is this something I should be concerned about? Should I try to tighten my oil filters past hand tight? Should I assume someone had it out for me and loosened it while I was inside? I want to say it’s my fault and I didn’t do my filter right, but everything about this makes me feel like someone else messed with it.

My wife and I love playing Everdell, but it is usually only the two of us playing and it starts to get old competing against each other. I know there are expansions that could make gameplay more lively, but before I invest in those I want to play the game a little more. I have played against Rugwort as a way to play Everdell solo, but was wondering if anyone has tried playing against Rugwort with two players? There would have to be some rule changes to make it fun and challenging, and I'm wondering what house rules anyone else has come up with, if any. Thanks for any thoughts.
And yes, I know the Mistwood expansion adds what is essentially a third player to a two-player game. I'm thinking of getting it very soon.

If anybody is able to help in anyway, it would be much appreciated! I’m looking for $10-$20. My gf recently got laid off and I’ve run into car trouble that I can’t afford to fix until I get paid from my 9-5 this week. We have no food in the house and no way to go make extra money (I usually DoorDash part-time). I also donate plasma but have no way to get there. With $20 donation I can either buy food or catch an Uber to go donate plasma. My Cash app is $RayRonnie and Venmo is @Ronnie-NunnJr.

The House on Jackson Street

By John Westrick
I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call to her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and look up to see the front door of the house swung wide. Light is pouring out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries and has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there standing in touching distance from her. It’s her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always tended to leave me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I began to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three is the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more shockingly I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I see my own hand reach for the gilded door knob. I know on the other side of this door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. I’m back. Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. Rage, white hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hung on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch his brain matter leak out of the side of it.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see my Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she said, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?”

My husband and I kind of rushed into buying a used Toyota Sienna 2021 LE.. and I was pretty set on getting an 8-seater, found a good deal on a car advertised as an 8-seater, and went to a dealership about an hour from our house after seeing a video of the outside. We got there, and the middle 8th seat was not there. I mentioned I thought I was coming too buy an 8-seater, and the salesman apologized. Apparently my husband, who had done zero research as I was in charge of all of that, asked again later said something about it not meeting safety requirements?? I’m not sure how that convo went down because I wasn’t there. Anyway we ended up leaving with the car, after weighing the pros and cons of having that extra seat.
Since then, I’ve kept thinking about the extra seat and regretting my purchase. Then as I did more research/looked at photos/kept seeing that huge plastic thing sticking out between our seats… I started thinking this IS an 8-seater, but the seat is just removed. I am now 100% sure of this. Now my question is, is the dealer obligated to provide this missing 8th seat two months after the fact..?
I feel dumb having walked out of that place without questioning further. But as anyone who has bought a car knows, it’s exhausting being in that environment and like I said, I just assumed it was a 7seater advertised incorrectly. I don’t understand why the salesman didn’t know that it’s an 8-seater missing the seat. My husband just wants to purchase the seat and be done with it. I want to call the dealer and ask them to get us one. Also didn’t come with any sort of mats for the floor. Again, my mistake for not checking all the boxes but also just upset that basic parts of the car are missing.

The House on Jackson Street

By John Westrick
I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call to her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and look up to see the front door of the house swung wide. Light is pouring out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries and has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there standing in touching distance from her. It’s her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always tended to leave me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I began to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three is the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more shockingly I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I see my own hand reach for the gilded door knob. I know on the other side of this door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. I’m back. Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. Rage, white hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hung on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch his brain matter leak out of the side of it.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see my Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she said, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?”

My home is a little over 1800sqft, ~12 years old, and all sits on crawlspace besides 2 car garage. Live in the south where humidity reigns supreme so a bit of spore/mold growth down there starting and humidity in wood is 15-17% range. All duct work is in attic, water heater is in crawl space. Floor dips slightly in some parts of house but apparently if crawlspace dries out it can “bounce” back. Getting it encapsulated later this month by the best company in my area. They’re putting in the dehumidifier, new moisture barrier, sump pump, etc.
Wanted to see if others here who have done this same improvement actually experience the benefits of lower energy cost, better home air quality, foundation protection, value add on future sale, etc? Or if there are some things I should look out for after they are done/while they are installing? Thanks!

The House on Jackson Street

By John Westrick
I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call to her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and look up to see the front door of the house swung wide. Light is pouring out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries and has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there standing in touching distance from her. It’s her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always tended to leave me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I began to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three is the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more shockingly I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I see my own hand reach for the gilded door knob. I know on the other side of this door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. I’m back. Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. Rage, white hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hung on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch his brain matter leak out of the side of it.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see my Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she said, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?”

This happened around six years ago. I was travelling by car through the South Island of New Zealand with my partner at the time. We wanted to enjoy the natural landscape, but hadn't done much planning.
For those who aren't familiar, the South Island is sparsely populated, aside from a few main cities. Once we left these cities, there were long stretches of road, and the occasional town (usually with a couple hundred people or less).
Without an itinerary, we decided on a day-to-day basis of which roads to take, relying on cheap lodgings as we went. On this particular day, we were driving towards the West Coast (although I cannot remember the specific location). We had already been driving for a few hours, and came across what appeared to be a fairly small town. It seemed to consist of one main street with a few surrounding houses.
One thing that I found strange was that there were no visible cars or pedestrians. However, being a Sunday afternoon, I attributed this to it being a day of rest. As we were driving through, I noticed there was a café with some people inside, and thought it could be a good chance to have a coffee and a bathroom break. So we parked the car across the road and I stepped out, while my partner waited inside.
I remember being impressed by the number of people in the café and thought "so this is the hot spot in town". But as I stepped onto the wooden porch, I realised something wasn't right. It registered that, while there seemed to be at least twenty people inside, it was completely silent. No voices, no music, nothing. I took a look through the window. What I had thought were people sitting, talking and enjoying their meals, was instead a large number of mannequins, all uniquely dressed and painstakingly posed in ways that mimicked a lively crowd. Some wore wigs, hats and/or necklaces. Cutlery had been placed for those at the tables. I suddenly got a terrible feeling in my gut.
I wish I had more details about this place, however I‘ve watched enough horror movies to know it was best to leave ASAP and not find out. The cloudy skies and hoard of cows staring from across the road were not much comfort, as I walked briskly back to the car.
I got into the car, told my partner, and we quickly left. I know this may not present as immediately threatening as other stories in this sub. However, something just didn't feel right. It didn’t seem to be a museum, or a clothing store. Instead, it was a staged scene unlike anything I’ve seen. I realised later that this may not have even been necessarily a town, since it didn’t have a gas station or any supplies store in sight.
I think about this every now and then, and still creeps me out. It is of course possible that this was nothing, however, it didn’t feel right. I have tried to Google this, to see if it was some sort of tourist attraction, but was unable to find anything. Would love to hear what you guys think.

First of all, English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for the grammasyntax mistakes. My bf and I have been together for 3 years, we moved in together 1.5 year ago. Our relationship is, overall, very simple and stable: we love the same things in almost every field possible, have the same projects in life, we care a lot for each other and overall we don’t hesitate to show our love and affection for each other. I truly see my whole life with this person.
Before we met, I stayed in a 6-year relationship with a guy who cheated multiple times on me with his « girl best friend » and was constantly gaslighting me about it (I saw a lot of sexts between them and he finally admitted he cheated at the end of the relationship). As a result, I came out of that relationship having trouble trusting men.
However, when I met my current bf, I tried to really put things into perspective and not compare him with my ex.
6 months into our relationship, my current bf lied to me the first time, telling me he was spending an evening at his brother's house, when in fact he was spending the evening in question with his girl best friend. Obviously, given the experience I'd had with my ex, I immediately felt betrayed, angry, and I almost broke up with him, especially as he was perfectly aware of what I'd been through before.
Anyways, he deeply apologized and promised to never lie again. And then, 2 months ago, we went on a little trip together, just the 2 of us. At the end of the trip, I took the train to see my parents for a few extra days and he took the train to our home.
When he arrived at OUR apartment, he immediately invited his girl best friend and spent the evening with her... and arranged absolutely everything so that I wouldn't know. Not only did he lie to me on the phone about spending the evening alone at our place, but he also asked this friend to lie to me so that I wouldn't know anything about this.
I learned all about it a few days later, because the girl in question told me everything. She told me that if she were me, she would have liked to know, and that she didn't want to be involved in this kind of lie. Fun fact: it was also thanks to her that I learned that he had lied to me the first time. On both occasions, she explained that nothing had happened and that she had absolutely no idea why he was lying, that it was inappropriate.
Again, he apologized, promised me (AGAIN) that he’ll never lie to me again, and told me the only reason he'd lied was so I wouldn't get jealous. Honestly, I don’t understand. I am, of course, a little bit jealous since he lied to me the first time… but I've never forbidden him anything, he's already spent weekends with her without me being jealous, so why lie on those two occasions?
Since then, I haven't been able to relax. I worry constantly when he goes out, because I'm afraid he'll lie to me again. I sometimes get angry (when I'm usually a very calm person) and feel anxious most of the time.
He's understood this, and since then he's tried to reassure me constantly (almost every day) by being completely transparent about what he's doing without me having to ask.
I'm torn between staying with him and leaving him. On the one hand, it's "only" two lies and I might be overreacting due to my bad experience with my ex. I see this girl regularly, she’s very kind and supportive; she never did anything romantic with him and they are not in love (she’s also had a partner for more than 10 yrs). On the other hand, I have the feeling that our relationship can never be the same again...
Has this ever happened to any of you? Do you have any advice on how to overcome this? Thanks in advance

I'll be attending Spa GP this year and I'm wondering what is the best way to get to the track. I booked a hotel in Liege and not planing to rent a car. Recently I got an email from the track offering me transportation from liege to the track and back for 50 euro per day. Is there any better option?

Well, may toxic traits rin naman ako but I'm working on it!!
I'm talking about love in general, not only romantic relationships. Yung sinasabi nila na "pag mahal mo, gagawin mo lahat" applies to me. I'd do anything for someone I love (relative/friend/significant other) and I wouldn't ask for anything in return. Even if it compromises my safety or health, gagawin ko pa rin. I am more than willing to do that for them. Ako yung nagbubuhos ng oras and effort sa tao eh.
In return, some people take advantage of that. Which is sad pero iniisip ko baka kailangan din nila ng pagmamahal haha.
Kaya minsan, napapaisip ako, who's willing to do that for me? Kasi ang sarap din sa feeling yung makareceive ng love like that. Tho I shouldn't expect it from anyone at all, napapaisip lang talaga ako haha
Kabag lang ata 'to HAHA dami ko na naman naiisip lol

I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all. She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge. And every day I end up in front of the same house on Jackson Street. A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn. I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call to her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry. The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear. I feel a tap on my shoulder, and look up to see the front door of the house swung wide. Light is pouring out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries and has returned for me. As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man. And then, I am there standing in touching distance from her. It’s her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always tended to leave me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles. I began to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three is the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors. Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more shockingly I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died. The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I see my own hand reach for the gilded door knob. I know on the other side of this door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room. Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. I’m back. Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died. I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived. I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax. And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. Rage, white hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hung on the wall for decoration. I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand. Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair. Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat. I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch his brain matter leak out of the side of it. To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see my Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.” Pity fills my heart and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black. Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes. I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she said, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?”

Biden and McCarthy to complete debt ceiling agreement Sunday, Jeffries tells Democrats (nbcnews.com)
​
Parts of link...
House Democratic Leader Hakeem Jeffries told his caucus in a letter Sunday that President Joe Biden and Speaker Kevin McCarthy will speak this afternoon to complete the debt ceiling agreement, and then the legislative bill will be released by Republicans.
Negotiators struck an agreement in principle Saturday night to extend the debt ceiling and avert a catastrophic default. The legislative text of the bill will be prepared by Republicans and reviewed by the Biden administration before it is finalized, Jeffries, D-N.Y., wrote in the letter to Democrats.
A source familiar with the agreement told NBC News it includes a two-year appropriations deal and a two-year debt limit extension, effectively resolving the issue until after the 2024 election. It’ll include work requirements for receiving federal aid under the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP, for Americans up to 54 years old, with exceptions for homeless people and veterans. But there will be “no changes to Medicaid,” the source said.
​

Good news!

My partner’s gambling has gone crazy. He max out all of his credit card. He even apply for credit card with my name on it and max that out too!. He owe his parent $100k, he take out line of credit 60k. He goes around borrowing money from friends and family. He keep saying he can’t stop…he need to gamble to pay off his debt. He’s surrounded with friends that are just like him, they love to drink and gamble. Drinking, gambling, working, and sleeping. That is his daily life. I just lost my job, due to sickness and depression. Now is getting worse I’m scared we might loose our house. He cant help pay anything. He is about to loss his job due to calling in. Its very stressful when I’m the mom, dad and the handywomen in this family. It’s so overwhelming and stressful. I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like my life will be more better if i leave, we argue so much. The house is so expensive, i have no support from my family. where will i go? I am so tired of this never ending loop.

Hi everyone!
Hope you are all doing well! I got accepted into CMCC class of 2027 and although I am thrilled for this opportunity I am also very worried for the future. We all know that the tuition costs is not something that OSAP will be able to cover, let alone the living costs in Toronto.
Does anyone have any suggestions on what bank would be the best to start a Professional Line of Credit?
For those receiving OSAP Disability Grants, how much does OSAP provide you based on your accommodations and do they increase the price if you live 30 km away from your parents house?
Does anyone know of a good reliable website that can be used to find proper housing? What are the best areas to live in (not familiar with Toronto)?
Thank you so much and good luck to everyone!

The House on Jackson Street

By John Westrick
I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call to her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and look up to see the front door of the house swung wide. Light is pouring out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries and has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there standing in touching distance from her. It’s her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always tended to leave me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I began to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three is the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more shockingly I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I see my own hand reach for the gilded door knob. I know on the other side of this door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. I’m back. Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. Rage, white hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hung on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch his brain matter leak out of the side of it.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see my Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she said, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?”

Last year, my partner[M25] and I[F24] had a combined income of 70k, which was enough to cover our expenses, although we lived in another state with higher costs compared to his family. However, money was still tight. Last Christmas, we were invited to his parents' home where a gift exchange was expected. We set a budget of $20-$25 for each person, including his parents, siblings, and two children.
It's important to note that I come from a very poor background and have no family. I worked hard during college to graduate without debt and now work in the tech industry. I am reserved about discussing my finances. When it comes to family, I usually avoid discussing money matters except with his parents.
In contrast, my partner's family is extremely wealthy. They grew up in a privileged home with large houses, multiple cars, and household staff. Despite the wealth, my partner worked part-time during high school and college to cover his own expenses.
To make the gift-buying process easier, we decided to spread out the purchases over three months, buying gifts for 2-3 people each month. However, when we called his younger sister in October to ask if she needed anything for her new apartment, she reacted negatively. She accused us of showing off our money and making her and their brother feel bad because we earned more than them. Her response was very hurtful, and we would have understood if she declined our offer due to financial constraints. She eventually told us what to get for her, a gift worth around $20, but told us to not expect anything from her in return.
This situation made us feel guilty, as if we were putting his family in a difficult spot. On Christmas day, his brother informed us that he couldn't afford to get us any gifts because of his own financial constraints, which we completely understood. However, we had already purchased gifts for each member of his family, and now we felt terrible. If we had been informed earlier, we would have adjusted our plans and perhaps only bought gifts for the children. Many families no longer exchange gifts, so that would have been acceptable too.
We have already decided not to exchange gifts during future holidays, or maybe opt for a Secret Santa arrangement. It's worth mentioning that his parents tend to pit their children against each other, fostering a competitive environment. They compare academic achievements, relationships, and financial situations among their children. Despite explicitly asking them not to disclose our income, we suspect they may have shared that information, leading to his sister's reaction. Both his sister and brother receive financial support from their parents, but his sister's expenses are mostly covered by her mother, and they often go on expensive trips together overseas. She could easily be just as independent as us, so I'm unsure why she is so upset with us.
Recently, I got a new job where my individual income has almost tripled, and our combined income is now around 150k We shared this good news with his parents, but I am concerned that they might reveal our financial information to others. I'm unsure whether I should ask them to keep it confidential again (maybe reiterating would help) or if I should simply disregard their actions and stop worrying about what other people think.
TLDR; last year we had a modest income and experienced an uncomfortable situation during Christmas gift exchanges with my partner's siblings. We have decided not to exchange gifts in the future, and I have concerns about his parents sharing our financial information again.

Pictures: https://imgur.com/a/FJPVGhI Location: Greater Seattle Area (98056) Trades: Sealed minifig blind bags or poly bags (for gifting).
Hello everyone! I have slowed down my hobby considerably and am looking to clear out some extra sets I've had in my garage for over a year. I'm interested in local meets only but I am happy to drive/deliver so if you're in the area give me a shout.
Everything is a flat 20% off retail price to get started. If you're interested in multiple sets throw me an offer!

Qty	Asking	MSRP	Title	Retired	Set	Theme
2	$48	$79.99	Vacation Beach House	*	41709	Friends
2	$48	$79.99	Friendship Tree House		41703	Friends
1	$56	$69.99	Andrea's Family House	*	41449	Friends
1	$56	$69.99	Emma's Art School		41711	Friends
1	$40	$49.99	Heartlake City Movie Theater	*	41448	Friends
1	$56	$69.99	Forest Horseback Riding Center	*	41683	Friends
4	$48	$59.99	Heartlake City School	*	41682	Friends
1	$32	$39.99	Beach Glamping	*	41700	Friends
1	$80	$99.99	Heartlake City Grand Hotel	*	41684	Friends
1	$184	$229.99	Boutique Hotel		10297	Icons
1	$160	$199.99	Bookshop		10270	Creator
1	$80	$99.99	T. Rex Breakout		76956	Jurassic World
1	$40	$49.99	Bonsai Tree		10281	Icons
1	$64	$79.99	Seinfeld	*	21328	Ideas
1	$144	$179.99	Friends - The Apartments		10292	Icons
2	$48	$59.99	Friends - Central Perk	*	21319	Ideas
1	$40	$49.99	T. rex Dinosaur Breakout		76944	Jurassic World
1	$80	$99.99	T. rex & Atrociraptor Dinosaur Breakout		76948	Jurassic World
1	$64	$79.99	Water Dragon		71754	Ninjago
2	$40	$49.99	The Keepers' Village	*	71747	Ninjago
1	$32	$39.99	Jungle Dragon	*	71746	Ninjago
1	$72	$89.99	Ninja Ultra Combo Mech		71765	Ninjago
1	$36	$44.99	Downtown Noodle Shop		31131	Creator
1	$32	$39.99	Batmobile Tumbler Scarecrow Showdown	*	76239	Lego Batman
1	$72	$89.99	Hogsmeade Village Visit		76388	Harry Potter
1	$96	$119.99	Jim Lee Batman Collection		31205	Lego Art
1	$136	$169.99	Millenium Falcon		75257	Star Wars
1	$72	$89.99	Dagobah Jedi Training		75330	Star Wars
1	$80	$99.99	Winnie the Pooh		21326	Ideas
1	$64	$79.99	Sonic the Hedgehog		21331	Ideas
1	$96	$119.99	Sesame Street	*	21324	Ideas
1	$144	$179.99	Medieval Blacksmith		21325	Ideas

The only issue is Friends 41709 and 41703 have some water damage on one end of the boxes (shown in album), so I have marked them down 40%.
Bonus offer: Since I am no longer adding to my own City I am especially motivated to move all the pink boxes. Take all 9 Friends Theme sets for $500 - which is 50% off!