Hi again (potential) friends!!
I'm a full-time artist with a STEM degree that I never used...apart from that time it gave me a british accent. Funny that.
I'm super spiritual (not religious), in the sense that I like to think there is a reason for everything and there is joy to be found in most situations. Big into tarot, astrology, conspiracy theories and true crime.
PLEASE BE 29 OR OLDER! Also if you have pets and/or house-plants, we're besties already, I'm sorry. Big-time feminist, LGBT+ (i'm Pan) and pro-choice. Extra bonus if you come from/grew up in a different place than me cause that way we get to exchange fun stories.
I'm sadly not at all into anime and gaming, which seems to be the key common element with a lot of folks on here 😅 Also I'm single, but finding a partner is not the main intent for this post!
Chat only, no messages. Please open with something about yourself and a picture, cause I likely won't respond unless I know you're an actual person haha
And finally, it me: https://imgur.com/a/DkyivDm

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I (21M) have recently got back in contact with a girl (20F) I was really close with at one point in my life. It ended pretty badly, about 2.5 years ago, after 3 years of on and off type stuff, but about a week ago her name popped up and I figured it had been long enough that we could catch up and it not be weird or there be any emotional stuff.
We got to talking and after a few days, it got a bit flirty. Nothing crazy, but it was comfortable so, you know, why not? She was giving me the same energy back. I don’t really trust this girl after the way she hurt me in the past so I made it VERY clear early on that it was just flirty chatting, nothing more, and she was fine with that.
Aside from the flirting we spoke about a lot of things…her ex, my ex, our relationships that hadn’t worked out, why she was still working the same dead end job she had been since 16 even though she had qualifications in engineering, lots of things about her life both past and most definitely currently.
Fast forward to last night and we’re talking some more and I realised she kept disappearing. When I’d ask ‘what’ve you done today?’ she’d say ‘I’ve been out’, which is kind of out of character for her. Like I said we were super close to the point where I can read her like a book, and every time we’ve spoke since getting back into contact there’s been no evasiveness until I’d ask about her day.
I’m no idiot, and I know her well enough to know she was hiding something from me so I asked her straight up ‘what aren’t you telling me’ and she told me that she’s seeing someone. I asked ‘is he your boyfriend?’ She replied ‘kind of’.
I was more concerned with getting a straight yes or no, because if this guy is her boyfriend and not a situationship or something I’ve been unintentionally homewrecking for the past 3 weeks. She told me they broke up but she’s been seeing him again a lot recently but doesn’t know how she feels about it because me and her started talking again.
She told me he’s really controlling and it was nice for her to feel free again for a bit. I used to be a support worker for victims of abuse so I understand why people go back, but that’s even if it’s true and she’s not exaggerating as a form of damage control, I really don’t know.
I’ve tried to advise her and help her, in amongst the flirting we’ve had some really serious conversations about her life stagnating. She’s never looked for another job even though she’s hated hers for years (since 16), refuses to go to the gym because she’s scared of people, won’t eat more than 1 meal a day even though she knows she’s getting to a dangerous level and keeps going back to this abusive guy cos she’s scared of being alone, and the only thing that might change one of those things is her latching on to me rather than Mr control freak, which she admitted herself.
I feel slightly guilty for getting annoyed about it but it’s so frustrating trying day-in day-out to help someone who says they want your help but refuse to take even the smallest step. I feel a bit hopeless, and I don’t want to cut her off again but if it keeps draining me like this I don’t want to sacrifice my own happiness to help someone unwilling to accept the help she’s asking for.
She’s got no healthy coping mechanisms at all and every day I’m trying to at least start getting used to the idea, asking if she’s eaten or just chip away at that social anxiety so she starts working out and meeting new people, but I also don’t want her to attach herself to me because I don’t feel that way about her at all, emotionally anyway, something I’ve communicated to her multiple times in the past few weeks, and knowing I’ve technically helped her cheat even though the guys an asshole doesn’t make me feel good at all.
I care about her a lot, and I just see the potential she has, I know healing is a process, but it seems like the only time she’s willing to do anything is if I tell her to do it, all she says when I ask her what she’s been doing for 3 years I’ve not been around is ‘just nothing haha’ or ‘I don’t know’.
She won’t talk to her friends cos she’s the ‘happy friend’…but she’s never even tried talking to them, she’s just bottled it all up and then as soon as I’ve appeared again she’s dumped everything on me and it’s a little bit draining, on top of the dragging me into her messy relationship by not telling me about the other guy straight away.
Yeah, pretty crazy, and idk if that all even makes sense I’m sure you can grasp how messy it is from how all over the place that story is. There’s so much more to it but yeah, just needed to get it off my chest.

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Context
Michael Jackson’s song 'Smooth Criminal' featured on his seventh album Bad (1987). The song is about a woman being attacked in their apartment. It used the refrain “Annie Are You Ok?” which is used to teach students CPR on CPR mannequin Annie (Wikipedia, 2023). “Resusci Anne was developed by the Norwegian toy maker Åsmund S. Lærdal and the Austrian-Czech physician Peter Safar and American physician James Elam” (Wikipedia, 2023). The oldest version is the proto-CPR mannequin of the world. It was invented after Asmund “was alerted to… physicians and engineers in Baltimore that had a new and much more effective method for resuscitation, involving mouth-to-mouth breathing”. The creation was sentimental as Tore, his son, had experienced drowning. The doll was modelled after the face of the death mask, ‘L’ inconnue de la Seine’ translated from French to English meaning ‘The unknown of the Seine’ (A rich heritage, 2023). They chose the face of a young female as male doctors would’ve felt uncomfortable practising on a same-sexed doll . Additionally, to resurrect a girl “millions of times is at the centre of a macabre mystery.”
Legend
Legend states, a young female corpse was pulled from the river Seine, the death mask was moulded on the corpse's face by a pathologist as they were beheld by her beauty. The corpse awaited with other bodies for identification which never came in the Paris Morgue. This practise was real as “two-thirds of the corpses dealt with by the morgue fished out of the Seine" were "suicides, accidental drownings or murders” (The Guardian, 2007).
Eric Nadeau stated "the pathologist asked for a mould to be made of the young woman’s face and the closest moulder was [their] very own Michel Lorenzi who founded Artlier Lorenzi, a molding workshop founded in 1871 “19, Rue Racine” (Morgan, 2017) . A suggestion from a now deleted post by users: and the link provided by in this thread provided contradicting info, Phoebe Judge stated that Eric Nardeau stated that the mask wasn’t created of a corpse, but Lorenzi stated in a 1914 French interview, but of a living model in 1866. The mask was made due to the model's popularity with other artists (The unknown woman, p.8, 2023).
According to Nadeau: “Michel Lorenzi, who was from an old moulding family based in a small village near Lucca, Italy and arrived in Paris around 1850” (Morgan, 2017). Although, another source stated that “Michel had a house in Piano. di Coreglia, came to settle in Paris around 1868” (LORENZI Pierre- Sculptor, n.d). It's possible the mask wasn't created in France but Italy according to the date Michel Lorenzi moved and the creation year of the mask provided by Nadeau.
Debunkers
Claire Forestier, a descendant of the original Lorenzi stated the death mask’s face has " full, rounded cheeks ... smooth skin…[usually akin to] casts taken from living faces [as they are] are so clear, so detailed, that when you look at the eyelids you can just see the eyeballs' movement underneath. That's the case with the Inconnue" (The Guardian, 2007).
“… moored at their headquarters near the Pont d'Austerlitz, Chief Brigadier Pascal Jacquin was less than convinced that the girl was dead when the mask was made” according to them “the drowned and suicides, they never look so peaceful. They're swollen, they don't look nice" (Grange, 2013).
"In 1960, Pierre Lièvre reported to the magazine "Chercheurs et Curieux." The interview stated the then owner of Atelier Lorenzi's ancestor (presumably Michel Lorenzi) had "molded the Inconnue at the request of a forensic doctor, as quoted on March 28, 2020 in the "Cousu Main editions blog titled "L'Inconnue de la Seine" on cousumain.worldpress.com"". The writer Jean Ducourneau, whilst writing The Church of Céline "(referenced below) [35, 36]", made a visit to rue Racine, they wrote the found that the mask "had been lifted on the face of a very pretty workshop model, reminding us that it is technically impossible for this mask to have been lifted on a corpse," reiterating the technical impossibility of this veil being lifted from a deceased body. "(In fact very quickly the rigidity cadaver blocks the mandibular joint and the smile would rather have been a rictus or a grimace)"
Origin of the Legend
“The name L'Inconnue de la Seine is quite late and probably dates from Ernst Benkard's collection of photographs in 1926 [25, 26] … placed the Unknown Woman of the Seine on the cover of his collection of death masks, Das ewige Antlitz (The Eternal Face) [Figure 20]. The book was published in 1926. The myth of her death mask probably originates from Rainer Maria Rilke’s Cahiers de Malte Laurids Brigge, published in Germany in 1910, in French 1911*.* “Rilke arrived in Paris in 1902 and stayed at 3 rue de l'Abbé-de-l'Épée near rue Racine. [He] mentions the mask of the Unknown woman associated with that of Beethoven, in the window of the molder Lorenzi, rue Racine. “The face of the young drowned woman that was cast in the morgue, because it was beautiful and because it smiled, because it smiled so deceptively . ". [23L page 72 Points edition] [Figure 11].” (Jean-Pierre, 2022).
Beginning Art History
According to Gaelle-Salliot (2017), Lorenzi’s grandniece stated that the death mask was first used for the 19th tetes d’expression at Ecole Beaux Arts. The author cited Edourd Papet’s (2008, p. 20) fact that the death mask was earliest depicted in Charles Bargue and Jean Leon-Gerome’s cours de dessin a drawing manual which features a drawing of Homer. She is depicted in Figure 2 (Gaëlle-Salliot, 2017, p.7). This drawing manual didn't reference a story of that of drown girl etc.
Potential real facts about the Jane Doe
An alternative name for the live cast is ‘La Belle Italienne’, from Frenct to English meaning, ‘The Beautiful Italian’. She’s seen in A. Daprato & Co. Boston, Manufacturer of Plastic Arts. “Several plaster casts manufacturer in the United States added a portrait of the girl in their [catalogue] collection, but in all [catalogue] she is named as La Belle Italienne. Why Italian?. This is a curious fact, it is a true information or an error because the girl was unknown?” She is seen with the name in “P.P. Caproni & Bro. Boston, Plastic Arts. 1911 cat [-ologue]. Masks n° 13525 La Belle Italienne, from life $ 1,00” (Felice, 2012). “Forestier thinks she must have been at most 16 for her skin to be so firm and smooth” (The Guardian, 2007). “According to the draughtsman Georges Villa, who received this information from his master, the painter Jules Joseph Lefebvre, the impression was taken from the face of a young model who died of tuberculosis around 1875, but no trace of the original cast remained” (M, Bessy, 1981 cited by Wikipedia, 2023)”. However, according to Marious Grout, the model was famous and working for “artists around 1875” (Gaëlle-Salliot, pp.6-7, 2015).
False leads
According to Alvarez (2015) the model of mask gained success in German with their father in a Hamburg factory that reproduced the mask (Gaëlle-Salliot, 2017). This fact doesn’t lead to anywhere. She was also identified as a Russian prostitute named Valerie who committed suicide, buried in Pere- Lachaise (Gaëlle-Salliot, 2017). Although, this comes from the fictional book The Mask by William Wood (G. E. W. H, 1951, p.6). As well as, Ewa Lazlo, a creation of John Goto, who wrote a fictional investigative story identifying the model. They “assumed that people would have a postmodern view and treat it as fictional," and they "really didn't expect [people] to take it seriously" as people online took his story to be factual (Grange, 2013).
Conclusion
She has the artistic reverence and mystery of a once youthful girl alike Afghan girl. “In light of the Cold War, the portrait was described as the "First World's Third World Mona Lisa"” according to S. Hesford and Kozol (2005) cited by Wikipedia, 2023. A title formally given to L’ inconnue de la Seine “because of her mysterious smile, “Mona Lisa of suicide” (Aragon)” (Jean-Pierre, 2022). The legend casts a great shadow over her identity, as the story ends with a corpse; she is muse who’s story is reinvented time and time again. It is possible that not resources all have been exhausted, there is potentially more information that could be obtained by the Artlier Lorenzi. Additionally, we still don’t known the causes-effects that lead to Georges Villa obtaining information about her, it is possible that other documents about this figure exist from this contemporary art community . If this person is Italian - a small possibility – this person’s life could have been documented in Italian records waiting for a face to match the details.
TLDR: An unidentified model possibly of Italian origin, was used to create a live cast of a bust. It was recreated repeatedly. The bust was misreported to a be a “death mask” of girl who drowned in the river Seine, in late 19th century France, from a pathologist in awe of her beauty created the mask. Long after, she became a muse for many artists. Then, she became the model of the first CPR doll in the 1960s. Finally, the victim of a melodic tragedy ‘Smooth Criminal’. No one knows the model’s identity.
Fact-file
Name: Unknown
Age: 16+/- (The Guardian, 2007)
Born: 1850+/- (Based upon the possible creation year of the mask from The unknown woman, p.8, 2023 and possible age range of the model from the Guardian, 2007)
Modelled: 1866? (The Unknown woman, p.8, 2023)
Death year: 1875? (Bessy, 1981 cited by Wikipedia, 2023)
Death cause: Tuberculosis? (Bessy, 1981 cited by Wikipedia, 2023)
Ethnicity: Italian? (Felice, 2012)
Occupation: Model for live casts
Place of work: Lucca, Italy (LORENZI Pierre- Sculptor, n.d) or Artlier Lorenzi, France (Morgan, 2017)?
Employer: Michel Lorenzi (The Guardian, 2007 et al.)
References:

• Bessy, Maurice (1981). 'Mort, où est ton visage?' Monaco: Éditions du Rocher via Wikipedia (2023). 'L' inconnue de la Seine'. Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Inconnue_de_la_Seine [Accessed: 18th March 2024]
• Felice, Andrea (2012). ''La Belle Italienne'. FELICECALCHI The Plaster Casting Journal'. Available at: https://felicecalchi.blogspot.com/2012/05/la-belle-italienne.html [Accessed: 7th Dec 2023]
• Gaëlle-Salliot, Anne (2015). 'Drowned Muse: Casting the Unknown Woman of the Seine Across the Tides of Modernity'. Oxford University Press. Available at: https://books.google.com/books?id=1QBlCgAAQBAJ [Accessed: 18th March 2024]
• 'G. E. W. H' (1951). The Sydney Morning Herald. Available at: https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=tPkQAAAAIBAJ&pg=PA6&dq=The+Sydney+Morning+Herald+l%27inconnue+de+la+seine&article_id=2195,5150417&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiDqpGim5iGAxX8_7sIHQwoB7UQ6AF6BAgHEAI [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023]
• Guardian (2007). 'Ophelia of the Seine'. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2007/dec/01/france.art [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023]
• Grange, Jeremy (2013). 'Resusci Anne and L'Inconnue: The Mona Lisa of the Seine'. BBC News. Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-24534069. [Accessed: 6th Nov 2023]
• Jean-Pierre, Haberer (2022). 'From “The Unknown Woman of the Seine” to Resusci Anne'. CHAR-fr. 22nd Nov 2022. Available at: https://char-fr.net/*Haberer-Jean-Pierre*.html [Accessed: 18th March 2024]
• LORENZI Pierre- Sculptor (n.d). 'Monumentsmorts'. Available at: https://monumentsmorts.univ-lille.fauteu1881/lorenzipierre/ [Accessed: 7th Dec 2023]
• Morgan, Emma (2021). ''Journées du patrimoine: Meet the maker behind world's most kissed face'.' Connexion France. Available at: https://beta.connexionfrance.com/tag/art [Accessed: 9th Dec 2023]
• One Million Lives, (2023). 'A rich Heritage'. Available at: https://one-million-lives.com/a-rich-heritage/ [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023]
• This is criminal (2023). 'Episode 223: The Unknown Woman Air Date: June 16, 2023'. VOX MEDIA [Online]. Available at: https://www.connexionfrance.com/article/People/Interviews/Atelier-Lorenzi-historic-moulding-studio-workshop-opens-doors-to-public-for-one-day-for-Journees-du-patrimoine. [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023] p.8
• Wikipedia (2023). 'Afghan Girl'. Available at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Afghan_Girl [Accessed: 7th Dec, 2023]
• Wikipedia (2023). 'L'inconnue de la Seine (masque mortuaire)'. Available at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Inconnue_de_la_Seine [Accessed: 8th Dec 2023]
• Wikipedia (2023). 'Resusci Annie'. Available at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Resusci_Anne [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023]
• Wikipedia (2023). 'Smooth Criminal'. Available at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smooth_Criminal [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023]

I had a strange relationship with deconstruction as my dad was trained at a university level to do apologetics. He was an LDS chaplain in the Army, and every night for scripture study, we got discourses on the nuances of our faith and justifications for every question we ever had. I didn’t swear until I was 18 years old, or drink caffinated anything until about that time as well, because it was never a matter of justification. It was what my family, my tribe, my people did, to go to church on Sunday, and to be worthy. I was senior patrol leader and assistant to the bishop if that clarifies who I was. I didn’t have “God will reveal it in due time” parents. I had “Here’s the answer, here’s contemporary discussion about it. Here’s some reading material if you want to learn more” parents, except for they were wicked smart, and had biased conclusions.
I was called to serve in the Mexico City East mission. Shortly before opening my mission call, I broke up with my girlfriend at the time. i left BYU-I and went home to prepare. I received my endowments after lying to my stake president about my worthiness to enter the house of the lord. I came clean, and he threatened to not let me go out for a year because I was unclean. The prick made me talk to a therapist to be cleared for the mission field. The therapist had a brain and let me go out. When I was giving my mission farewell speech, I wrote it to include the teachings of many religions in it. I had drawn inspiration from the 13th article of faith “We believe all things, hope all things-“ and wrote a poem about how Adam and Eve related to the Resurection and Atonement of christ. My dad tells me the stake president was shifting in his seat like he wanted to pull me down from the pulpit. Prick.
The CCM was a pleasure to attend because of my district. The guys in my district there held a secret thanksgiving feast after hours when we were supposed to be in bed with food we had smuggled out of the cafeteria. We had look outs so we wouldn’t be caught by the patrolling teachers. My district was placed under surveillance because of politics against our spanish teacher who we could tell actually cared about us, and we were transferred into a classroom with one sided mirrors, and microphones hanging from the ceiling. An apostle came to speak to the entire CCM, and I thought we would get a chance to meet with him directly, or that he would be even remotely accessible in some way. He was kept away from us, separate and removed even though we had the same mission. I played a lot of volley ball, and got into shape enough that I touched the rim of a basketball hoop for the first time while I was there.
My first companion was a native speaker, and liked to spend the mornings in the cyber (Internet Cafe). He would make sure I was on LDS.org while he looked at softcore porn on instagram. We would spend hours there, and I was disappointed that this was the mission.
We went to a previous investigators house, and while there, we saw preparations for an animal sacrifice. These guys were putting alcohol, cocaine, and blowing smoke onto a white chicken, and placed in into a cardboard box with a bunch of black chickens. They showed us a room full of weapons, with blood and feathers strewn all over the floor. We noped the fuck out, and went home.
I requested an emergency transfer after spending most days in the cyber, watching my companion deface JW’s property, and being an all around dick to me by telling me how to shower and how to sleep.
For his replacement, the person that would help me with his bastion of knowledge, they gave me a white guy who spoke as much Spanish as I did because he was only a transfer further into his mission than me. They made this poor kid senior companion to me before his first transfer was over. Why? Because the kid was a workaholic.
The first thing this elder and I did when we got to our apartment was to pick up and leave to go to the house of a member who had just died. We sang at the wake. I sang in a language I didn’t know, for people I didn’t know, with a companion I didn’t know. We sounded pretty damn good. The elder began setting appointments with the non-believing family members during the service. I just sat and watched the mindless kids chase the family dog.
This elder skipped lunch every day, and made me do the same. We knocked every door in our area twice that transfer. One time, he got very sick, and was delirious out in the sun with me while we were walking. I made us go home for lunch that day, and he made me promise to wake him up after thirty minutes so we could get back to the Lord’s work. Three hours later he woke up, chewed me out for letting him sleep that long, and then begrudgingly thanked me for making him rest.
One time, while walking, this Elder expressed to me that he also had some questions, but he was afraid to share the details because he knew my own testimony was fragile. I pressed him for details of his plight, and he revealed to me the darkest part of church history that he had learned while we were in the CCM, that Joseph Smith had drank alcohol while in Carthage Jail before he died. Thoughts of Fanny Alger, of Mountain Meadows Massacre, and of my own mother’s rather recently implemented looser interpretation of the word of wisdom all flashed through my head. This guy was supposed to be my teacher? All I could do was express how sorry I was for his confusion, and told him to have faith. Heaven knew I couldn’t help him.
One night with this companion, it was storming hard, and the streets were flooded. This guy refused to let us go home. We climbed along fences to avoid getting our already wet shoes soaked, and waded through a foot of water to get to the doors that were slammed in our faces. There was a loose wire on a door bell, and when I rang it, I was shocked by the completed circuit the water made. Rejection after rejection piled up. Finally, my “senior” companion said that this was the last row of houses. On the last house of the last row, there was a family that was all deaf. The father opened the door, and was suprised to see us and didn’t know who we were. I remembered the sign for Jesus from my grandparents who started and ran the ASL endowment ceremony in the Saint George temple. The family was thrilled we knew the sign. When I asked if we could come in, the family politely waved goodbye and closed the door on our faces.
Another time when it rained, something fell into my eye. It was one of those freak nature accidents, and small enough that I couldn’t figure out how to get it out without a mirror. The thing stayed wedged in the corner of my eye for hours before we got home and I could finally get the foreign object out. Looking at it on my finger, I could see it was a small green spider. Days later, still in pain, I pulled what I can only assume was accumulated webbing from the spider that I’d crushed against my eyeball off of my lower eye lid. The pain stopped after that.
I bought a $500 camera. It was stolen within a month.
This Elder and I had the good luck before transfers to baptize two children. They would have been baptized anyways, so I didn’t do any actual converting, but I taught a few lessons, got in the water and did the dunk. Bucket list item, check.
I didn’t have enough time for laundry on P-Day, so I’d wash my outfit and dry in on the radiator through the night. Transfers happen, and my new companion lied to our land lords about the electricity bill, paying it in full but not giving a reason as to why it was so high. I didn’t care anymore, I just needed something clean to wear, but these land lord had treated me and my previous companion well, better than the previous landlord who had stolen our cleaning supplies. I felt these people deserved honesty. My senior companion capitulated eventually, and he and I butted heads regularly after that on the morality of things. I think in hindsight he was a smarter and better man than I was.
The new land lords, the “Lagunez Family”, were wonderful. They included us in their activities, and I felt like I had some people in my corner. When I eventually came home from my mission, a daughter of the family had written me a goodbye letter. She is currently serving a mission. They made some great music, and I have “Infiltradors” on CD, the official name of the band the father of the family was a part of (he was the drummer).
I knew the whole area by heart by that point, so I navigated us to our appointments. Half of the landmarks I watched for to know our location were interesting buildings with unique colors. The other half of my landmarks were dead dogs whose decaying corpses had become second nature to see. I began marking how much time had passed by how deeply a certain dog on a certain dirt path’s chest was caved in.
There was an apartment complex in my area that I had been told not to proselytize in because “It’s dangerous.” Turns out, those people didn’t have any money, so the church didn’t want them. That complex was past the dog and to the east about ten blocks.
My companion and I knocked on a door, and visited a man who was missing his legs. His daughter was there, putting dirty water on the aching wounds. He had a single room for a house, and wheezed when he spoke. He couldn’t afford medication. He still went out and worked all day for his daughter, and gave her whatever money he made, trusting her to keep him alive somehow. The church expected this man to pay tithing. The church expected me to tell this man to pay tithing.
I got the chance to hike up a mountain. At the top, I played chess with a chess set I’d procured from one of the best rapid chess players I’ve ever met. He had been the ward mission leader. He was a good man, a good father, and I wish him the best.
I found another man who was deaf and spoke sign language. I sat with him, and convinced him to come to church all by myself while my companion talked with some tienda tender. I was so excited because this was my own personal project and it was going well. The man came to church, and I sat with him through sacrament meeting. In Sunday school (I can’t believe I did this), I accidentally drooled on the guy. I was just talking so he could read my lips, and I guess I forgot to swallow at some point because a dolup of spit landed on his arm. I apologized profusely, and he played it off, but I never saw that investigator again.
My companion and I knocked a door one day, and a man answered. He wore tattered clothes, and maggots were burrowing into and out of his feet. He muttered something about the stars, missing his wife, and he began to tear up. My eyes stung from the stench. The door closed. Somehow, I knew the man would be dead in a matter of weeks.
I had lost hope that I was doing anything worth while. I looked down on the Doc Martins that had stayed with me five months at this point. I was angry with myself for being so useless in the field, angry with the church for giving me leaders that didn’t listen to my needs or perspective, angry with my mom for drinking while I had to teach people that it was a sin, angry with my dad for giving me the skills and knowledge to justify anything, even pedophilia in the early days of the church, to the point where I could look someone in the eye, and knowing the kind of man Smith was, tell them he was a good man and a true prophet of God. Suddenly a man approached us. He said he recognized us as missionaries, and asked about our message. This never happened. People didn’t just come up to us unless they were crazy or dangerous. But this was a public place, and this guy was genuine. My companion talked to him, and gathered his story, but I was plotting something else. I was done with not caring about these people in a way that mattered. I was tired of walking in another man’s shoes, a man who wasn’t me, who believed different things than me. The chopped leg, the rotting dogs, the infested feet, it all swirled into a single thought in that moment.
What would Jesus do?
I walked over to the man, and in broken Spanish asked him to stand next to me. He did so, and I compared my shoe size to his foot. It was a perfect match. He protested, but I didn’t let him get a word in edge wise. I took off my shoes, put them on his dirty feet, and laced them up nice and tight. Those shoes had cost a ton, and had been meant to last the whole mission. All I had left at this point were my fancy dress shoes that gave my blisters back at the apartment. I didn’t care. I walked home in my socks that day, happy as a lark.
Covid-19 hit a month later. I was one of the few they brought home instead of quarantining. After having served only 6 months. I told God if he wanted me to stay home, he’d have to make them release me.
They released me. I think I was one of maybe a hundred missionaries that were released due to Covid. The church realized their mistake pretty soon after I was released. Once Covid infrastructure began to develop, they didn’t release any more. I guess I didn’t serve a full two years, but I did serve a full mission.
My brother served, and he nearly killed himself due to intense depression brought on by Covid quarantine and poor leadership (I’ve got a few mission president stories, but those are for another time).
I learned lying to someone’s face from my mission, and spent the rest of my time at BYU-I as “nuanced” until the last two years, over which the most epic hoe phase imaginable became my new mission. I spent those years terrified of getting a call from the honor code office.
I’m married now, with my degree irrevocably in my possession. I have friends and loved ones that are in the church and are working on their mission papers. I’m beginning to feel powerless again. I’m seeing the decay again, not on legs, feet, or dogs anymore, but in the souls of the people who the church raises to do their dirty volunteer work. I see them like the animal sacrifices I saw being prepared. I’m not sure what shoes I have left to give to those people that I know are going to be in pain.
My parents are out completely now. It was a long time coming, but they are out and so much happier. I’m working on building a new relationship with my family, one based off of the fact that we won’t be together forever, so we have to make the most of our time together now.
Happy Sunday guys, best of luck to you all. And most importantly, chupa la piña.

Nature of Humanity Ch 67 A NoP fic
Under Pressure Part 10
A Fanfic of u/SpacePaladin15’s work “The Nature of Predators.” Thank you for the story!
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Memory transcription subject: Silvera, Factory 13 Manager
Date [standardized human time]: November 4th, 2136
If it wasn't for the clearly artificial sky above my head someone could possibly convince me I was outside in a new park. The neon blue screen with a white dot to represent the sun was nothing like the actual pale gray visage a mile above. Yet, it did have an enjoyable warmth to it.
A smooth artificial wind swept through the saplings ensuring that they would develop healthy stress wood. It also pleasantly cooled the fur of anyone in here, providing a nice little respite from the heater simulating the sun's unbearable hatred of us. Fuck you fake sun!
Any flora used to decorate the park would be exotic to Frozen Mountain, even if it came from the nearby tundra, but my humans decided to do something interesting. While they had covered most of the ground with a soft short-growing Terran clover, they chose to make the rest of the decorative plants functional. All of the saplings were different types of fruit trees that, when mature, would be free for anyone to harvest as much as they want. Even the decorative topiary isn't hardy tasteless plants, but berry bushes that would provide a variety of sweet treats relatively soon.
Agurcorp was more than happy to allow its failed startup out here to be turned into a local park. Well, so long as they didn't have to pay for this expensive mistake of theirs. The Mayor was all too happy with this, especially since my humans were happy to let him have all the credit so long as they got to design the park. With voting season right around the corner, the Mayor that ‘Brought life to this blighted land’ was a shoo-in to get re-elected. Or would be if he also wasn't ‘The idiot who allowed predators into the city.’
With everything that's happened I am still a bit surprised at everyone currently enjoying the park. A small herd of Venlil are exercising in the open field. A family of Gojids are walking along the cobblestone path. All the while, some humans are playing a very weird game of throwing a round plastic plate into chain nets. It's almost as if this city didn't have two separate riots on the same day.
The sound of wheels traveling across a bumpy path caught my attention. I glanced across the way to see an embarrassed-looking John driving an electric wheelchair over to me. His eyes locked onto mine before quickly switching to the ground. He tried to laze in a chair designed to enforce good posture and looked rather silly as he adjusted himself.
He came to a stop just a foot away from where I sat, “Hey Silv… I, uh… I don't actually need the wheelchair but Mikvia threatened to break my legs if I didn't use it, so I'm just humoring her.”
Oh, don't freaking tell me. Why are humans like this… “John… you were hospitalized with a punctured lung. Sure, doctors have some miracles they can perform these days, but you know you shouldn't be stressing yourself by walking.”
He huffed, “Please, I'm fine. Really. It wasn't as serious as everyone is making it out to be.”
I thumped my hind paw against the ground, “John.”
He threw his hands into the air with a huff, “I'm in the damn wheelchair ain't I? Gawd…”
He grasped his nose before calming down, “I apologize. Shouldn't have raised my voice like that. I mean… I am using the wheelchair and not lifting stuff. Doctor's orders. They even said getting out in this park would be fine. Said it might even help!”
We let out a deep sigh together. I hopped down from my bench and back up onto his lap, “Let's go for a ride… while we figure… us out…”
I could see John's guard drop as the exhaustion crept back onto his face, “...alright...” He pressed his controls forward, and we slowly began our first lap of the park.
John wrapped one of his lanky ape arms around me like a fleshy seatbelt and I laid my head on his chest appreciating the contrast of his warmth with the cool artificial breeze. I could have slept like this. The beating of his heart was rhythmic, and his deep breaths sounded a bit like waves washing up on a shore.
I even heard his heart quicken as I cleared my throat, “So… we aren't really dating are we?”
His exhaustion was quickly replaced with unease as he started to fidget a little, “I'm sorry…”
I held his hand and stared into the ocean blue eyes of his, “Don't be sorry. I think we were both drunk when we agreed to go on a date…”
He shook his head, “I still should have said something before then.”
It wasn't like I couldn't have taken the initiative and talked to him sooner too, “I know you were going through a lot. Actually, I know you still are… I'm really only able to guess but… Are you one of the types that thinks Xeno-dating is weird?”
He looked ashamed as he scrambled to smooth things over, “I- No- well, yes- but- it's just… ok. Let me start over… alright… yeah… so… uhm… the thing is… how do I put this… it sounds bad… well, it is bad… it’s just…”
My tail wagged involuntarily at the rather cute display of embarrassment radiating from John. I leaned in and let him have a doey-eyed look to help heap the embarrassment on.
It felt like John tried to stop the next words from rolling out of his mouth, “Sometimes I have trouble thinking of you all as people.”
John came to a complete stop as I just stared at him wide-eyed. My brain struggled to grasp what he was saying and the implications of it. He cringed and covered his face with his hands, “Gawd, that sounds horrible. It's just… It's not as bad with you and the others… I talk to y’all a lot. It's easier for it to click that you are people too.”
I was desperately trying to see this from his angle, “Wha- why does this happen in the first place?”
His hands drug down his face trying to drag the flesh with it, “I think it’s cause you are always naked. Like your back brace helps a little bit, but still everything else is… That and I hear your voice and the chip in my head then gives it meaning. Like its disjointed. Then it's the way your body language works and- and- fuck. Just…. Fuck me man. I don't even think that's all that's wrong with me. It’s just… like you look, sound, and smell like animals. It's just not really what my mind had in place for aliens. So- like- ugh! Why can't I just explain it!?”
It's difficult to explain, but his words connected to a deep sad memory, “It's like everything is just too… slightly wrong…”
It felt like I had been whisked back decades to my own childhood. I could still smell the bleached halls of the Venlil orphanage on Nevis. My heart whimpered when the Sivkits who came to adopt me shuddered with fear and disgust. Their strange voices sounded slow as they spoke a strange version of Klipic. Like hearing a pale imitation of yourself, try and pretend to be just like you.
My eyes locked with his as I carried on “It’s like you look at them and a part of you knows what they are, but your brain just snaps back to… to what you think reality is.”
I could see a glimmer of hope well up with his tears, “Y-you know? I-Iv've felt like such a monster! How can I- How can I look them in the eyes when they took me in and say- say- that I can't see them as people sometimes!? After everything they've done for me?! They want to adopt me and I- I- I can't even!”
I wrapped my arms around his neck as he buried his face in mine. It felt like he could crush me with his arms, yet they held me gently. What was causing me pain was this damn back brace. The blasted thing was trying to force my arms down while it hunched me over. I wiggled out of John's embrace and ripped the freaking thing off and chucked it as far as I could before burying myself in his embrace again.
We held each other as he drew in shuddering breaths and let his emotions flow out. John’s grip eventually began to loosen and we both took a moment to calm down. I gently tugged at the shirt covering John's torso, “So… Us not wearing clothes constantly is… disconnecting for you?”
He nodded his head, “Y-yeah… It’s like… every person I have ever known wears clothes. Animals never wear clothes and at most wear like a collar or harness if someone owns them. Then a few months ago, a bunch of nudist aliens show up and… well, my brain lops them into the animal category and the translator isn't helping.”
I glanced down at my body and suddenly felt… exposed, “So now that I am no longer wearing clothes…”
He cringed, “You look more like a large rabbit thing than a person… when you had the brace on it helped a little, but you were on all fours… When you were wearing your weather suit and had your hood off, It felt like you were a person, just different.”
An idea crossed into my skull, “Ok then… so your brain attaches personhood with a level of nudity, body plan, and familiarity… take your shirt off and give it to me- Don't give me that look! I know you’re male and are far less sensitive about people seeing your nipples. So gimme.”
He begrudgingly took off his shirt, revealing a pelt of fur that caught me off guard. I shook off the confusion as I slipped his shirt overhead and stuck my arms through the sleeves. It immediately tried to slip down my body and off. Mostly due to how large the hole for his head is, but also due to my utter lack of true shoulders. Another gift of my freak mutation. The ability to walk upright as well as sprint on all fours like a fucking Arxur.
I bunched up the collar and knotted it on itself, solving the slipping issue. With a small twirl, I spun in a circle, “So how is this?”
A smile formed on his face, “You look adorable!”
I happily flicked my tail, “Is that girlfriend adorable or pet animal adorable?”
His grin beamed with happy, mischievous energy, “Little sister adorable.”
I stomped my hind paw again, “Wha- why?!”
He held out his arms and I hopped back into his embrace, “Its cause it's my shirt. Jamie would wear my clothes sometimes, and they were so baggy on him, and well… on you that's practically a sundress! … you’d look really nice in like… a yellow sundress with like a straw hat.”
My mind tried and failed to make an image to match his description, “Hrm… well… I wouldn't know where to even start getting a… sundress.”
John carried on like clothes shopping was a normal intergalactic thing, “You would have to go to a tailor and have it custom-made. Like you already had to adjust my shirt cause you don't have shoulders like we or the Gojids do.”
We sat in a comfortable silence as John started the wheelchair back on its path. I almost fell asleep in his arms before I asked, “So… Are we dating?”
John didn't hesitate to bend over and freaking bite the top of my head! I, rather fruitlessly, slapped my paws against his face as fast as I could and only managed to elicit a laugh from him. Jumping up, I got a mouth full of his cheek in my teeth.
I made sure not to crush as I mimicked what he had done to me back, “Ah! The turns! They've tabled! I'm sorry! We're dating! Augh!” I spit out the lump of flesh between my teeth and sat down rather proudly.
It was only then I looked around to see most of the nearby groups staring at us. As well as three silver suited flame whack jobs walking our way. One of them held up his paws to try and seem as big as possible, “YOU! PREDATORS! DON'T MOVE!”
John growled at them, “YOU FUCKING IDIOTS. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”
The trio froze in their steps and reached for weapons they didn't have. The boldest one took another step forward and shouted, “SHUT UP PREDATOR!”
John held his issued jacket up, letting the reflective emblem of the guild shine for all to see, “I WORK WITH YOU NUMB NUTS! I'M JOHN! ADOPTED SON OF YOUR FUCKING CHIEF! RING ANY BELLS?”
The trio halted in their tracks and the most skittish of them turned a one-eighty on their paws and began to walk away. The boldest one’s paws slowly dropped, “J-John?! I- I've never seen you without the mask or artificial pelt… wait! You're supposed to be in the hospital!”
Johns voice grew cold, “They said I could go out around the park so long as I mostly stayed in the chair. If it pleases you, you can talk to Loke. He's right over there with his wife and two kids. I bet he'd be thrilled to learn you three are going around accusing people of being predators.”
The bold moron took a fearful half step back, “D-d-d-d-don't twist my words! You bit her and she bit you back! I have witnesses! That's predatory!”
John leaned back and stroked the fur on my cheek, “No, it’s erotic.”
I could see the gears turning in the bold one's head grind, “What.”
John pressed his lips into my neck, “Ya know… sexy. It’s like… gently grooming your significant other's neck from behind but more playful.”
They looked revolted, “That's disgusting.”
John cocked his head to the side like a confused Gojid, “That’s odd.”
The look of revulsion quickly transitioned back to confusion, “What?”
A smirk grew on John's face as his fingers massaged into the sore muscles on my back, “It's just, that’s exactly what your mom said last night, but she grew to like it.”
I slapped my paws to my mouth to avoid laughing as the rage flared up in the bold one's eyes, “WHAT!?”
I let out a happy purr as John began to work at my sore muscles and utterly humiliate the idiot bothering us, “Yeeeeah. You weren't supposed to find out like this, but I'm your dad now.”
Their ears pinned back in rage, “You're lying to me.”
John waved a hand at our surroundings, “We are in a hermetically sealed park. There is no way for any significantly threatening animal to get in here. You are only here looking for trouble and I assure you, this will be looked into. Go clean your nose and keep it clean. Understood?”
They both tucked their tails, “Understood, sir.”
John nodded his head and calmed his tone, “Dismissed.”
As the trio of troublemakers left, we sat in relative silence as John continued to work away at the stress in my muscles. If you proved this was how humans prepared their food before eating it, I would argue that it's still worth it.
His rough voice messaged my ears, “Hey Silv?”
I stretched and enjoyed the pops my spine made as it took its natural shape, “Hrm?”
A hint of curiosity hung in his voice, “Why did you understand what I meant? Shouldn't… You've lived with aliens being a part of everyday life for… Like… ever right?”
I slumped against John and thought. Dredging up old memories that I almost wished I didn't have, “It was… a very long time ago. My doctor told me I was making up false memories to cover up a traumatic event and make it to where I was normal and everyone around me were the weird ones…”
I could hear John doubt my doctor's claims, “That sounds… fishy.”
Despite John's odd word choice, the meaning still fit perfectly, “It feels like it, but I just have no proof. I swear to you, I remember running along a beach, with my parents on two legs. Every Sivkit I knew as a child walked on two legs. It’s like… well…”
I grabbed John's hand to stop it from distracting me, “One day I woke up, and I was unbelievably cold. I thought I was a corpse. There was this strange… tentacle thing with bulgy eyes standing above me. His words didn't match his lips, but I understood him. It was terrifying.”
“He scooped me up and started running. Said I was in grave danger, and he was going to keep me safe. I didn't trust him one bit. He jumped into some strange ship and told me I had to be very quiet. The bad people would attack us if they heard either of us talking.”
“Eventually, he crashed the ship into something and pulled me out of it. I was surprised to see we had been on a submarine that entire time. That and the sky was the wrong color. I didn't even have an opportunity to think about it as he carried me to a weird looking vehicle that once again surprised me as a giant wall turned into a window.”
“I had never even heard of spaceships before, and I watched as we went up and just moved into space like it was nothing. He tried to calm me down, but he told me my parents were dead. I- just remember sobbing in his tentacles for hours. Eventually, I calmed down enough for him to play with me.”
“For a few days it was just me and him. Then we met up with another ship, and he left that one to drift in the void. He said we were meeting his friend Aylin on Nevis… a Venlil colony not too far from here, actually. I got to meet more aliens on that ship but Kalova- sorry that was the name of the Kolshian who took me out here. Kalova didn't want me to talk about anything to anyone. Said to just say I was his adopted daughter, and he just got a job on Nevis managing the new colony.”
“He never saw it. I didn't know what they were at the time but the Arxur attacked. They were trying to raid the colony and the Gojids and Venlil where desperately trying to protect it. I remember the alarm going off the second the ship’s captain announced we were leaving FTL. Kalova sprinted through the ship carrying me. He placed me in an escape pod just before that terrible lizard spotted us. He pulled the lever and my pod jettisoned down to the surface.”
“I was in that pod for three days before the Venlil found me and put me in an orphanage. Every time I met other Sivkits… they made my skin crawl. There's something wrong with all of them. I swear to you, we Sivkits are supposed to walk on two legs. We also aren't supposed to be that… stupid. Between how they talk being just… off, and the fact what they said was often either retarded or downright wrong, I couldn't ever feel like one of the so-called Grand Herd.”
“Eventually, I aged out. Graduated college, top of my class. And started working out here when they began to rebuild my plant after it burned down. That’s all there… Well, there is more, but It's not actually relevant to your question.”
John leaned down and kissed the top of my head, “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
I groomed the tip of his nose in return, “You're welcome. … Hey John?”
I could see a small bit of… hope in the back of his eyes, “Yes Silv?”
“Can you tell me about your past?”
He frowned as memories came back to him, yet he smiled still. “Yeah… it’s not a happy story either.”
I pressed myself into him, “Well… we can both be sad together, at least.”
John's hands began to absentmindedly work through my fur again, “Yeah… That doesn't sound as bad.”
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Important question, do you want a chapter dedicated to John retelling his story? Or would you like it smash cut out in favor of more of their first real date? I am not sure how I want to do it and am happy with both, so please let me know.
John and Silvera finally had the relationship talk! Woooooo! John's confessed something he'd rather never bring up, but knows he needs to address to start living a happy life with his new family. Aaaaand, It's time for Silvera’s tragic backstory! (Trademark pending). Strange names though, right? Kalova… weird how John's old boss has a missing brother with the same name as an alien Ivan the Arxur knows! And Aylin… strange they share a name with Talen's dead wife! Man that's just weird!
Special thanks to u/JulianSkies for proofreading! Seriously it felt like my eyes were melting out of my skull and your feedback was everything I needed!
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The Nature of Humanity
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Religion Name: Shrekism
Overview: Shrekism is a monotheistic religion that centers around the worship of Shrek, a beloved character from the animated movie franchise. Followers of Shrekism believe that Shrek is a divine being who created the world and all living things, and that he is the one true god.
Commandments:
Thou shalt love and respect Shrek above all else. Thou shalt treat others with kindness and compassion, just as Shrek does. Thou shalt strive to live a simple and humble life, free from greed and materialism. Thou shalt honor thy parents and family, for they are a gift from Shrek. Thou shalt not kill or harm any living creature, for all life is sacred to Shrek. Thou shalt not steal or covet that which belongs to others. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor or spread rumors and lies. Thou shalt keep the Sabbath day holy, and spend time in reflection and prayer. Thou shalt not engage in any form of sexual immorality or adultery. Thou shalt not worship any other gods or idols, for Shrek is the one true god.
Deadly Sins:
Pride: Believing oneself to be superior to others or placing oneself above Shrek. Greed: Excessive desire for wealth or material possessions. Envy: Jealousy of others' successes or possessions. Wrath: Uncontrolled anger or aggression towards others. Sloth: Laziness and apathy towards one's duties and responsibilities. Gluttony: Overindulgence in food or drink. Lust: Excessive or inappropriate sexual desire.
Practices:
Worship: Shrekists gather in their temples and offer prayers and offerings to Shrek. Pilgrimage: Shrekists may go on pilgrimage to the "Swamp of Serenity," where they believe Shrek first appeared to humanity. Fasting: Shrekists may fast on certain days to show their devotion and discipline. Charity: Shrekists are encouraged to be charitable and help those in need. Meditation: Shrekists may meditate on the teachings of Shrek and seek to deepen their understanding of his message. Communal Meals: Shrekists may share meals together as a symbol of unity and community.
Symbols:
The Green Flag: A green flag bearing the image of Shrek. The Onion: The onion is a symbol of humility and simplicity, which are important virtues in Shrekism. The Donkey: Donkey, Shrek's loyal companion, is seen as a symbol of friendship and loyalty in the Shrekist faith.
Holy Places:
The Swamp: In the Shrek bibles, Shrek's swamp is his sacred home and a symbol of his identity. A temple or shrine could be built in honor of the swamp, where followers could come to meditate and reflect.
The Castle: The castle where Princess Fiona lived in the first Shrek bible could be considered a holy place. Followers could come to pay their respects to the princess and learn more about her story.
The Windmill: The windmill where Shrek and Fiona first fell in love could also be considered a sacred site. Shrekists could come to pay their respects to the couple and learn more about the power of love.
Paradise:
The Swamp of Eternity: In this paradise, followers of shrekism could spend eternity living in their own version of Shrek's swamp. They would be surrounded by their loved ones, onions, donkeys, and the beauty of nature, and they could live in peace and happiness for all eternity.
Inferno:
The Pit of Isolation: This inferno would be a place where followers of the Shrek-based religion could be sent if they were deemed to have betrayed the values of the religion. In this pit, they would be cut off from all human interaction and forced to live in isolation for eternity, just like Fiona(the spouse of our holy diety) was.
Apostles:
Fiona, Shrek's wife and co-leader of the movement, who embodies the ideals of strength, courage, and compassion.
Donkey, Shrek's faithful and humorous companion, who represents the importance of loyalty and friendship.
Puss in Boots, a skilled and cunning warrior who symbolizes the virtues of agility and strategic thinking.
Dragon, a fierce and powerful ally who embodies the values of protection and loyalty.
Gingy, a tenacious and resilient gingerbread man who represents the importance of perseverance and determination.
Artie, a young and inexperienced prince who undergoes a transformation and represents the potential for growth and change.
Merlin, a wise and mystical advisor who provides guidance and spiritual insight.
Captain Hook, a former villain who has reformed and now serves as an example of redemption and forgiveness.
Doris, a former antagonist who has also reformed and represents the power of second chances.
Mama Bear, one of the Three Bears who represents the importance of family and community.
Thelonious, a henchman of Lord Farquaad who redeems himself and becomes a member of Shrek's inner circle, symbolizing the possibility of redemption and transformation for all.

I (26F) met my ex (27M) and my former best friend (25F) at the beginning of university. I introduced them, and we were close throughout our studies. After graduation, I moved away, and my relationship with my ex ended, though we remained friends. About a year after our breakup, my former best friend visited me for my birthday and mentioned that my ex had been asking her out after our relationship ended. Although I had no intention of getting back together with him, I felt uncomfortable with him dating a mutual friend. I decided to remove him from my social media and move on, but I stayed friends with her since, as far as I knew, she wasn't pursuing him romantically.
Two years later, she visited me again and revealed that my ex had actually started asking her out during the last two years of our relationship, and neither of them told me. They had grown closer while I was studying abroad, staying together in another country. This actually felt like a major betrayal. There’s nothing I value more than my time and both of them had just let me waste 2 years in a relationship where my partner was trying to cheat on me. She apologized and mentioned that even though he had a new girlfriend, he was still asking her out, and she didn't know how to handle it. I told her that I had lost my trust in her, and she promised to rebuild it.
However, a few weeks later, she and my ex took trips to two different countries for about a month together without his new girlfriend. In the past I’d you had told me they had something going on behind my back I wouldn’t have believed you but this along with everything else was really changing my perception. They were now doing the same thing to his new girlfriend. It’s not my place to say anything to the new girl but I do feel very bad for her. I decided to cut both of them out of my life. I didn't share this story with our mutual friends to avoid damaging her social circle, believing she might eventually change with and she’ll need those friends more than me for now. However, I learned that she told our mutual friends that I cut her off because of my ex, which isn't true.
Many things have come to light about my ex since our breakup, revealing that he wasn't a good person, and I regret the time I spent with him. The reason I ended the friendship was the loss of trust in her, not because of my ex.
Am I the AH? How should I handle the social fallout? I love my life now – I'm in a prestigious grad school, have supportive family and lovely friends outside of my uni bubble, I have a really well paying job, and am beyond grateful for everything. However, it bothers me that our mutual friends only know her version of events. Her family still reaches out to me, and I don't have the heart to tell them about our falling out. Her mom once said to me “I love you because of how much you love and take care of my daughter”, It sucks to lose them but I'm okay with whatever version she tells them because I don't want to disrupt her relationship with them. I was thinking of paying off one of her student loans as a birthday gift before I realized she was spending it with my ex lol, helped out another friend with grad school fees and gifts for my mom instead. Is there something I'm missing? Was I unfair to her in any way?

I won't say my age but I will say that I am female and I have a couple of best friends. I have 2 really close friends that I have known for a bit but I didn't know them beforehand. During COVID, one of my friends very suddenly developed anxiety even though they have never been diagnosed. They would cry over tests and results and say that they were insecure and as friends, we would try to talk them out of it. They refused to listen and blamed it on their anxiety. They would say that they got no sleep because of anxiety and say that they would bump their leg up and down because of anxiety (even though they rarely ever do) and all of this they would say to us happily with a smile on their face. I know I'm not a psychologist but they kept trying to align themselves with symptoms that me and my other best friend didn't think they had. On top of that, when they cried over tests, they would refuse to look at their score and sometimes even held up the whole class just because of it. It feels mean to say but I feel like they were doing it for attention. Moreover, they never let us help: we would give them advice and they wouldn't follow it, we would tell them to talk to someone and they would say that their mother wouldn't allow them (even though they can still talk to a teacher in school). All of these small things broke our friendship. It became all about them and during the first couple years I was willing to be supportive but at some point we just got tired. Me and my other best friend attempted to drop them but we ended up talking again properly after around a month then after the summer it was like they had reformed. They never mentioned their anxiety and when they did, they treated it like it was an accomplishment that they were no longer refusing to look at numbers on a sheet of paper. They would slander their parents saying they put too much pressure on them and would make up stories that my other best friend knew weren't true because they have known each other for longer. However, all of my friend group is POC so we all have the same standards or even higher. I'm not trying to demean the person but I feel like they needed a reality check so me and my best friend attempted to drop her again and this is what I wrote.
To _, I've known you since _. Honestly, it was nice at first; that was until you started with your anxious feelings. In no way shape or form did I think that your anxiety was a bad thing; I just felt as though I couldn't deal with it. Every time I couldn't convince you to eat or take your medicine, it would make me feel like a bad person. This didn't necessarily upset me but it made me feel like I wasn't a good friend to you. On many occasions, you would accuse me of yelling at you. I really thought that it was just my natural voice but when you said it out loud, it felt like someone had stabbed me. I'm sorry for any miscommunications that happened and I'm sorry that we couldn't make this work. I even walked out when I knew that I couldn't help you because it would be the best for you and I. I could never be there for you which was frustrating enough because you also never listened to anyone's advice. Even now, as you say that you are beginning to listen to us, it doesn't seem true. You always jump to conclusions about making us feel bad when you are talking about your issues and it is just wrong. You are deciding my emotions, and not to be rude, but you don't get to do that. Your thoughts and feelings have interrupted and took over large parts of my life. Sometimes I'm even unable to revise because of you (not to say that it's your fault for having personal problems). I'm never going to get the hours I spent with you back but I hope that they were spent for a good reason and that they hold meaning in your life as they do in mine. I feel like I am constantly arguing with you over your views about yourself that you and I both know are wrong. You hold high expectations that you know you can't reach so you beat yourself up about your results every time: it really pains me from the bottom of my heart. I truly hoped that you would find the peace and happiness that never seemed to be present when we argued. At first, in _, when we dropped you, I felt awful but I also believed that the worst was over. I thought that when you came back, everything would be fine but I can't deny my own feelings. Your emotions are overbearing and it's overwhelming me to a point where sometimes I get frustrated. To reiterate, you don't upset me and I have no problem with you but I need my space. I need my time. I need my own attention but most importantly, I need my life back. I'm sorry I could never take care of you or help you, despite my efforts. I've had many great memories with you but now is the time to think. I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to do my exams because of my thoughts holding me back and that's exactly what happened. I am scared for you, _. I hope you know that I always cared and wanted to help. I hope you know that I will never give up on you and your journey but above all, I hope you know that sometimes things must come to an end. Goodbye, __.
And even after all of that we still were friends again but now they don't mention anything about mental health and I feel like I caused this. Was I wrong to want my life back as a child because I didn't know how to handle them then?

In Ready for It, Taylor compares her relationship to Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor’s and there are eerie similarities to her relationship with Matty and it seems like some phases or ideas from Burton and Taylor’s letters to each other made it into her songs. Plus Ready for It calls out the 1975 song “Robbers.” Oh and in the Wildest Dreams music video Taylor meets her lover on a movie set like Burton and Taylor did and she looks an awful lot like Elizabeth Taylor!!!
https://www.townandcountrymag.com/society/money-and-powea41631132/elizabeth-taylor-richard-burton-true-story-grit-and-glamour-excerpt/

So when I was 5 my parents got me a toy piano and I started playing Christmas songs by ear (with no previous experience). My parents then promptly suggested I take piano lessons & I took them for 10+ years. My question is, is this trait hereditary? My grandparents would always tell me the story of my great grandma who had the same exact trait, and would describe it in her poems and writings (she loved to write poetry and my grandparents kept a lot of her writing). She was an accompanist for silent films in the early 1900s and would play music that matched the “mood” of the film, but struggled to read music. I feel the same—my parents always told me to be a “good” pianist I needed to master technique, and it’s definitely true, but I just got really anxious as a child about having perfect technique and started to hate doing piano at all. Has anyone experienced this and have any tips or suggestions?

That was the first time I felt it in me. It suddenly made sense to my mind, and my soul was not torn over it. There was no apprehension in my heart.
My stepfather was not a nice person. Ever since my mom left I have been stuck taking care of him and my little brother. I absolutely loved my little brother, but I did not love my stepdad.
He wasn't a monster all the time, a lot of days while I was scrubbing floors and toilets, doing beds and laundry, washing dishes and cooking food, all was well for him.
But sometimes I felt like he needed his fix. And his fix was not alcohol, or cigarettes, or any other regular addictions. His nasty habit was anger. He needed to humiliate and scream and trash perfectly good food, rip the sheets off freshly made beds, throw neatly folded laundry on the floor. Because they weren't good enough, because a lot of the times everything I did needed to not be good enough. Most of the times I cry, and I feel the pressure in my chest and the knots in my stomach and I just... fix it, alone, that's how I've always done it, that's how it felt like it needed to be done.
And I would dry my tears and sooth my heart and act like it never even happened, it never affected me, and everything will be well again, for a while.
But today I felt differently for the first time; I've always been obsessed with killers, I've always stayed up late watching true crime videos or reading books and biographies of horrible murders, horrid crimes. And my obsession was not nefarious, it was not because I had a monster inside of me that I was feeding with these stories, I did not have troubled thoughts of blood and dismemberment and torture. Rather, it fascinated me because I didn't understand it, I didn't know what could make a man kill, derive pleasure from it, or be desperate enough to feel like the only path for them is murder.
Until I did. And worst of all, it didn't scare me, it didn't make me repulsed with myself, there was no reasonable voice telling me this is crazy talk, these were not intrusive thoughts.
After his latest episode, the only words in my mind, in my ears, echoing through my body were "I'm either going to kill him or kill myself".
And standing here in the dark kitchen, the smell of the food I cooked today still lingering from the garbage can, his venomous words still lingering in my mind, the large knife clutched in my fist, I have to remember all the times I have wanted to kill myself and didn't. Poison, drown and maim myself. And I didn't. I've resisted those urges so many times before that chasing them away from my brain is just my nasty habit now. The urge to kill is new, however, fresh in my mind, pulling at my skin and limbs, and I don't think he's left me with enough of my sanity to resist this too.

Demonic Activity When I was 5 years old at night in Mexico City my family went to bed in a big bed all together counting 5 and one night a demon or whatever was calling my name to open the door in a demonic voice talking in Spanish asked me 2 or 3 times and I tried to wake up my dad to see and he didn't wake up usually someone would pushing them hard and I could see the demons eyes and mouth he was all black face and facial features was black as well but somehow I could still see them and I just went back to bed pulled my cover over my head cuddled with my parents and went to bed and I didn't see anything since until I was 18 l was walking threw two streets cross and at midnight or around 3 l heard a lion roaring and growling I looked around everywhere and I couldn't see anything when I just gave up on looking and kept walking it just stopped ( please comment) what you think would of happened if I was to open the door? Or any comments was not a dream 100%

In the TV show "Baby Reindeer", the protagonist is sexually assaulted by a television writeproducer.
The show and characters are based on a true story, although names have been changed, so there's speculation around who the show is portraying.
Various celebrities have come out and said "Everyone knows who the producer is".
https://deadline.com/2024/05/baby-reindeer-richard-osman-tv-writer-abuser-1235904672/
Which begs the questions:
Why didn't people speak out about this years ago?
Why aren't the police investigating it now?
What mindset are people in that they can proudly claim "Everyone knows who it is" to newspapers, yet not realise how bad that makes THEM look by keeping the identity of the rapist a secret?

I still consider LOST my favorite TV show, especially the first five seasons, which I believe include some of the best television ever made. However, Season 6 didn't work for me. I wonder if others feel the same or have different perspectives that might help me appreciate the final season more.
1. The Sickness This storyline felt underdeveloped. Hinted at by Rousseau and Desmond, it never made much sense. I would've preferred if those following MIB genuinely agreed with him, similar to the split between Locke and Jack in Season 4. Sayid and Claire reverting to being "good" anyway, makes the sickness aspect seem unnecessary.
2. Sayid & Claire Both characters felt wasted. Sayid's resurrection seemed pointless, as he just followed MIB before changing his mind. Claire's descent into "craziness" was a cop-out. They could have developed her character more in a well deserved Claire centric episode, showing her genuine trust in MIB and blaming Jacob for Aarons fate, and her own. Not to mention a closer look at The Others and The Temple, where she could have been living for 3 years. Sayid, mourning Nadia, could have been more believably manipulated by MIB, blaming Jacob. No sickness storyline needed, and the conflict between this group and Jack's would have made for some great drama. Obviously both Sayid, and Claire, would move to Jack's side when realising MIB's true goal, but this happened even with the sickness.
3. Cindy Cindy's return was underutilised. Like Claire, she could be perhaps willingly following MIB due to blaming Jacob for the tail section camp's fate, and the kids. Plenty might have good reason to follow MIB and the grey area between him and Jacob could have been explored this way.
4. Sun & Jin Separating Sun from the core group for so long didn't work, especially since their reunion felt cheapened by their immediate deaths. Sun could have had a more significant role with Widmore, discovering Jin's survival and returning to the island with him, creating a compelling dynamic with the old castaways. This would have been a strong role for Sun, who would now be torn between her new found faith in Widmore, and her reunion with the old castaways. I also think she could have just replaced Zoe's character completely. How much more interesting would it have been if Sawyer had run into Sun on the other island, instead of Zoe.
5. Ilana & Frank Ilana's character felt unnecessary. Her role could have been repurposed for Frank Lapidus, with a backstory involving Jacob asking him to protect the candidates. This would tie back to the original flight and give Frank a more meaningful presence. Perhaps Jacob actually stopped Frank from piloting the original 815 flight, to ensure his safety.
6. The Flash Sideways The flash sideways concept was intriguing but became the biggest mystery of Season 6, which detracted from the main story. Condensing it into a two-hour special, perhaps involving Desmond, would have been more effective and less distracting. Similar in theme to Flashes Before Your Eyes, or The Constant.
7. The Ending The on-island conclusion was fine, but the flash sideways reveal as a post-death existence felt underwhelming to me, or at least somewhat disjointed The church scene, while artistic, lacked consistency with who was present, which detracted from the story's logic. Nostalgia seemed to overshadow the finer details, compromising the show's usual attention to detail.
For instance, should Penny and Boone really have been there? Miles spent longer with the majority of these people than Libby, Shannon, Boone, Penny, Charlie etc, and yet he wasn't there. Michael and Walt weren't there for reasons that seem contradictory. Ben was invited in, which seems odd. Daniel and Charlotte weren't there, but Shannon and Boone were? I understand the creative decision to keep it mainly the original cast. It seems nostalgic, fitting perhaps. But it fails under scrutiny to really understand the logic behind it. Did Boone or Locke not have a partner? Was Jack's Mum too busy to attend? Just nitpicking.
I'd love to hear your thoughts on the points I've made!!

I'm running a DS220+ with DSM 6.x with a single drive and using really just a couple of servies: network drives, various Docker containers (e.g. HA and Jellyfin) and a backup client (iDrive).
I've held off so far on upgrading to DSM 7.x, mostly because of the horror stories I've read on Reddit et al. about Synology Photos. Granted, that was two years ago when DSM7 was new.
I'm coming from a really terrifying photo archive migration from multiple places, including Google Photos, that took me almost a year to complete, with many many hours of manual and semi-automatic deduplication. So I'm really burned in that respect and got so scared that I just closed my eyes and kept the system running on DSM6 as is. But this cannot go on forever, and so I'm now hoping for your advice on whether I can (or how I should) upgrade my DSM in 2024.
I think my main fear is what will happen to my /volume1/photo shared folder. I read something about how DSM7/Synology Photos will take it over and you cannot manage it easily on the file system level anymore? Is that true? Could I just (*during* the upgrade, I guess?) disable Synology Photos entirely to preserve my file system authority? What will it do to my shared folder during the upgrade if I don't disable Synology Photos? I really don't want anything to happen to my file structure, and I want to keep being able to access it as a network drive from other PCs. I don't want anything to touch my folders or (destructively) extract my EXIF tags (looking at you, Google Photos!).
I'm actually not even really using neither DS Photo nor Moments on DSM6. I've tried them for an hour, couldn't really figure out how to use them to my advantage and just gave up and started managing my photos in the file system. I'm using DS Photo to upload photos from multiple mobile phones to the Synology right now, but this isn't even particulary stable/reliable and I'm not concerned about figuring out a way to replace it.
My main requirement (and what pretty much drove me away from all the photo management systems I've looked into, including but not limited to Google Photos, DS Photo, Moments, Mylio, Photoprism) is to have one shared library of all photos my family takes. I don't want to ever have to manually share photos. Preferably, I'd like to just have one photostream of all photos taken. I never got this working with special software in DSM6 either, but at least I trust my file system folder hierarchy (that I sort photos into manually from our phone uploads). Therefore, I would consider giving Synology Photos a try if I can do non-destructively. But I would also be okay with just disabling it entirely, if that's the safer path.
Side-note: I also need to switch to a bigger disk very soon, so I'm wondering if I should maybe just install DSM7 on the new disk, then reconfigure everything / migrate it all over from the old disk. Probably a lot of work, but do you think that's an advisable alternative?

I've seen this theory circulate across Discord, Youtube, and here on Reddit that halos in Blue Archive "give" students the insane amounts of strength and durability we know them to have, but I really do NOT believe that statement to be true. If that were the case, then everything we know about students being special would be tied to their halos; everything in the game has proven otherwise.
Obviously, there are extensive spoiler warnings that go across all Volumes, so don't come to this conversation unless you've caught up with all current story content (it takes about two weeks to grind up the equipment and levels to beat V3C3E24) or don't care about being spoiled. You have been warned.
Let's review what behaviors we have seen about Halos:

1. Halos are activated as a student awakens. This is seen in the anime as Shiroko and Hoshino wake up from sleeping and/or naps.
2. Halos de-activate when a student is not awake. This is seen when Seia is rendered comatose and continues to remain as such to explore the future through her visions.
3. Halos break when a student dies (Kayoko describes death as one's halo being broken if they were to free fall too high up in the atmosphere to get adequate oxygen in Vol F, Vol 3 involves the use of a halo-breaking bomb i.e. it is strong enough to break a halo and kill a student outright).

From this, we can understand that halos are a primary indicator of consciousness, like an LED indicator on your PC to indicate when the power is on. An LED activates when a computer is turned on. That same LED de-activates when the computer is turned off. The same LED doesn't work if its power cannot be turned on due to catastrophic damage the overall PC suffers.
Okay, we understand that much. So where in the world does the idea that the halo "granting" / "giving" special protections come from?
From Vol 1 and the anime, it is stated multiple times that Sensei is more vulnerable and should not participate in battles because "they do not have a halo" themselves. In Volume 3, Saori shoots Sensei in the side and Sensei is hospitalized due to the physical trauma of the bullet wound, thereby proving the physical difference between those who possess halos and those who do not possess halos.

"There! This shows that halos give powers to their owners!"

WRONG. Halos are an indicator of consciousness for certain groups of beings (students, Sanctum Tower, Decagrammaton), but there exist Kaiser robots, civilian robots, civilian animals, animals, and Sensei that all are awake, alert, and aware without the need for a halo. All of these demographics interact with and have physical and/or verbal conflicts with the students; the robots more or less fight on equal footing with students when it comes to physical altercations (as seen in Vol 1 between Abydos and Kaiser, and Vol 4 between the hobo-robots and SRT).

"That doesn't disprove my point that halos give powers to their owners!"

Not yet, but realize that I'm talking about demographics and the substance of a being.
Let's look at PV 4.5 to be more precise on what I'm talking about:
THIS IS YOUR MAN WHO BROUGHT YOU UP OUT OF HEAVEN
We see here a chest bearing half the shape of an almond blossom -- the very same type of wood that was Aaron's rod. We know that Arona is based off of Biblical Aaron, who was a helper to Moses to lead the people out of Egypt in the great Exodus.
In Exodus, we can see the passage of the first Command say as follows:
"² I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage." (KJV)
In PV 4.5, we can see the box inscribed with:
[HERE IS YOUR MAN, WHO BROUGHT YOU UP OUT OF HEAVEN.]
If we know that God is speaking to his people (humans) in Exodus, and the inverse is seen in PV 4.5, we can deduce that the box is addressing divine figures. And since Blue Archive has always taken place in one Kivotos or another (Vol F we get snippets of other versions of Kivotos where we fail), we can say with fair confidence that this box is in Kivotos. Kivotos is thus implied to be filled with gods.
And we know from Vol F (which precedes PV 4.5) that Shiroko is Anubis, only one of the many Forgotten Gods. The Forgotten Priests use Chroma to transform Shiroko into Anubis, drawing out her divine name. And since Shiroko is a student who is found to be a god, we can infer that students are gods.
The student body of Kivotos are gods. Gods are inherently divine, and therefore are of divine substance.

"Why does the substance of an existence in Kivotos matter?"

Because Decagrammaton also bear halos, but as explained by Decagrammaton itself and by Himari its members were originally mundane machinery that had been granted consciousness by Decagrammaton. Decagrammaton was a product of an experiment that wanted to establish a pipeline to create new gods. Decagrammaton itself used that same pipeline to make new gods out of the machinery it was surrounded by. Decagrammaton's members were originally mundane things that became divine. That is why they have halos while more mundane robots don't.

"We sound like we're getting off track. What are you getting at?"

If we know Decagrammaton's members to be the end-product of a god-making process and that process results in creating new entities with halos (gods), and that Shiroko's cracked halo didn't affect the combat abilities of her Terror Form (she claims to have destroyed her Kivotos before coming to our Kivotos), then we know that halos don't give anything more special to what is already special...what is already divine substance and godly.
Back to the PC analogy: Does an LED power indicator make the computer's case less vulnerable? No, of course not. So why would a Halo, which is to a student's consciousness as an LED power indicator is to a PC, be any different?
Shiroko's divinity is not lost when she sleeps, nor is it gained when she wakes. It does not diminish when her halo is cracked and she is transformed into her terror form. Shiroko, at her very core, is already a divine being of divine substance -- a god. The same goes for every other student in Blue Archive. The halo is proof of divine existence, but it does not grant any special characteristic to that existence. The divinity itself is what makes that existence special.
It just so happens that Shiroko -- like every other student -- has been anthropomorphized enough to interact with Sensei on a human level: as their student.
TL;DR Halos don't give students any special qualities; they are extensions of the student's self and indicators of their consciousness. It is the students' inherent divinity that gives them their superhuman strength, that gives halos to students. Sensei does not have a halo because they are not inherently divine; Sensei is -- at their core -- uniquely human.