I don't really want this to go viral or anything but sincerely just want to put all in one place all the things I know about the situation because I don't think it's with people I know irl....
TDLR: true off my chest, my mom is almost certainly emotionally cheating on my dad based on what he's told me and I know way too much about this situation.
My mom was the typical housewife when I was growing up, very young mom to another guy whose out of the picture entirely; I literally can't even remember the dude's face.
My real dad met her when she was still young, single mom and he still fell for her. He loves her so much. His devotion is really boundless for his family; he was a kind of typical dad when I was growing up, working long hours to move up the corporate ladder, make money to get the four of us out of an apartment and into a house. Us older kids, we were his kids, no doubt about it, even when they had two more kids.
He wasn't perfect. He got angry when he dealt with shitty clients all day and came home to a chaotic household. He would get mad/sulky if I didn't great him at the door. He spanked the boys. He broke the glass table once, when he was really angry.
At the time, obviously, my mom was the stay at house mom, cooked and cleaned.... With hindsight, I think her child rearing could've really used some work. We were left alone a lot, her still in the house, but working on finishing school. We were put into after school activities to keep us engaged, but she never really played with us or gave us activities like I feel a stay-at-home mom should. She let me tell her about her day, but she never really engaged with what I said to her, just listened. Maybe she didn't listen.
I remember one time she had a college class and I can't even remember how old I was.... maybe 4? But she left me outside the class as it got dark, because she knew I was a good kid and wouldn't go anywhere.
They were probably too young for this many kids, or maybe even kids at all. Us older kids definitely contributed to raising the other two, we'd babysit on date nights, etc. Not often. But enough.
But my parents eventually made their way to a couples therapist. things got a lot better, for a few years. My dad worked on his anger issues, mellowed out a lot, and they became all about the love languages and how to love each other and us well.
When I moved out for the first time, things seemed good. They seemed stable at least.
But now, 6 years later things have felt.... Weird. What I type below is a mix of things I saw and things my dad told me.
With hindsight, my mom definitely has taken up a lot more space for herself. She works a lot of hours and put the youngest two into a LOT of extracurriculars. The youngest, she said, should be well rounded with their extracurriculars.
Sports. Music. Scouts. She wanted to put him in an art or language class to be "well-rounded". I personally feel like she just doesn't want to raise the kid after school. They're left home alone A LOT. As in, I will call them in the afternoon and they're home alone because everyone else is at work, or the gym or whatever.
I worry for that one.
During last Thanksgiving, my dad said my mom is starting to "blossom". She's always been an introvert, never had many friends, has been a touch judgemental, and stayed off social media. But now she's making work friends, engaging with the community and totally leaving my dad and the kids behind to some degree. She never invites anyone, they have to ask.
But he wants her to grow. He wants her to have friends, so he encourages it.
He starts stepping up around the house; with the pandemic, he became able to work from home half the week, so he does, he drives the younger kids when they need it, manages the house, even learned to cook.
My mom makes a new friend. A guy.
And she's had guy friends before. But my dad says the majority of her texts are with him. She's now on social media.... Posting things for him.
When they go to family events and things, she text him pictures of the events and pictures of herself... Nothing sexy as far as I'm aware, but I can't think of a single guy friend she'd be texting photos of herself unless he's gay and she's looking for fashion advice (he's not gay). And she always seeks him out.
My dad told me this, basically crying. This is the moment I think she may be emotionally cheating.
How can you spend all your time thinking about someone your not with, talking with them almost 24/7 unless you're intensely emotionally invested?
I personally fuck with the LGBTQ+ community, I think my mom is demi and this is so very very close to cheating, as close as you can get without touching.
SHe meets this guy a lot without my dad.
So my dad begs her to go back to couples therapy with him, and she does.
She puts up the boundary that my dad is not allowed to interfere with her friends, that he's just being overly jealous. The therapist poses the thought to my dad "if she decides to cheat on you, there's nothing you can do". The boundary, she told me. The words, my dad told me.
Obviously that hurts.
My dad asks her if she's in love with him (my dad). And she says no.
Obviously my dad is so hurt by this, but their time is up and they have dinner plans with friends.
My dad does not want to go. He begs her not to go.
She makes him go.
She makes him go put on a happy face with their friends when she just probably broke his heart.
I was there that night, for the holidays at that point. I sat with my dad, put a shoulder to his. I didn't know the details of it all, but I saw my dad texting their therapist and saw when he came home and it wasn't good.
When we get home, my mom says "so what do we want to do, family movie? Game night?" I balk. What the fuck is she talking about? Why doesn't she give a shit about my dad, someone she's spent twenty years with who's never shown her anything but devotion?
I say no, and entertain my siblings while my parents go upstairs and talk? for literally 3 hours.
I get called in when I'm getting ready for bed, trying to ignore anything coming from their room.
My mom promises it's nothing crazy, they're not getting divorced.
What?
I just want to go to bed at that point.
The next day, my mom takes me out, explains some of her side of the story but never elaborates on how she hurt my dad so much , just saying he's not allowed to interfere with her friends. I don't ask about that guy.
She says "your dad asked a question that he didn't want the answer to. He got upset when I answered honestly, because you know I'm always honest"
She's a snob and judgemental of emotions so I just stop asking questions.
My dad is trying so hard to keep it together guys.
He has all these tools from dealing with his anger issues, hes's meditating, he's taking complete care of the youngest kids, as best as he can.... He once told me he was scared to lose my mom (like, her dying) because he'd have no idea how to take care of the kids. I kind of think that's what happened.
He's no longer himself. He's quiet. He's very thoughtful. He's so self-controlling.
All this, changing almost everything of himself and she says nothing. He asks her for acknowledgement, a thank you and she says "You should be changing for you, not for me"
I am almost scared for him.
On mother's day, he did everything to make it special for her. He encouraged the younger kids to make her breakfast, take her out for the day, she got to go to the spa with her lady friends.
She never thanked him. She never thanks him for his support.
He finally realized that it's a fight. someone has to give in, either her, just SEE him, or he's going to give up someday.
How do I feel about all this?
I might hate my mom. She's a shitty partner, and not a very good parent right now either. I think regardless of how she views it, she is putting this one guy on a pedestal over everything else in her life. I think she is just waiting for my dad to give up.
Part of me wants to tell him, that she's stubborn as al hell and she's not gonna give up. I think he knows it.
But he loves her so much, and I don't think I should know even half of any of this, but I've seen too much. I know too many things that I'm not allowed to tell anyone.
should I encourage him to tell her that even if she doesn't see this coming to a divorce, that's where it's heading? Should i encourage him to divorce her?
Should I explain to him what emotionally cheating is?
God, the youngest kids. They're the ones suffering the most of this and I don't even know if they know it.
I wish every conversation I had with anyone in that household doesn't have me standing there with the question on the tip of my tongue; "do you know this is going to end and painfully?"
I wish I could see my mom as a good mom again. I wish I could see my dad a whole person again.
Thanks for reading and while this is a true off my chest, god I'd probably take any advice.

This is all from the Internet. A click away from any phone.

Socrates was a Greek philosopher from Athens who is credited as the founder of Western philosophy and among the first moral philosophers of the ethical tradition of thought.
An enigmatic figure, Socrates authored no texts and is known mainly through the posthumous accounts of classical writers, particularly his students Plato and Xenophon. These accounts are written as dialogues, in which Socrates and his interlocutors examine a subject in the style of question and answer; they gave rise to the Socratic dialogue literary genre.
Contradictory accounts of Socrates make a reconstruction of his philosophy nearly impossible, a situation known as the Socratic problem. Socrates was a polarizing figure in Athenian society. In 399 BC, he was accused of impiety and corrupting the youth. After a trial that lasted a day, he was sentenced to death. He spent his last day in prison, refusing offers to help him escape.
There were four charges that were brought against Socrates. They were that he argued the weaker claim over the stronger claim, that he argue the physical over the metaphysical, that he was against the gods and that he was corrupting the youth.
Socrates was found guilty by a jury of 501 Athenians and was sentenced to drink a deadly poison, named hemlock. Many scholars have argued that the charges against Socrates were politically motivated and have understood his trial and conviction as an attack upon freedom of speech and an indictment of democracy.

The Last Moments of Maegor’s Reign, losing against a misogynistic society led by petty and ambitious nobles and against the Faith of the Seven, a religion that enforces gender roles and inequality between men and women.

By 48 AC Maegor's tyranny could no longer be borne by the realm. At Storm's End Aenys I's last surviving son, Prince Jaehaerys, put forth his claim to the throne, supported by Lord Rogar Baratheon, who was named Protector of the Realm and Hand of the King by the prince. Jaehaerys had two dragons on his side, his own mount Vermithor and his sister's mount Silverwing, against Maegor's Balerion. Learning of her brother's claim, Queen Rhaena Targaryen fled from Maegor in the night, escaping on her dragon Dreamfyre with the Valyrian blade Blackfyre, and her daughter, Princess Aerea, adding a third dragon to her brothers cause. Lord Edwell Celtigar resigned his position as Hand and returned to Claw Isle and Grand Maester Benifer secretly escaped on a ship to Pentos. Ser Olyver Bracken and Ser Raymund Mallery, two of Maegor's Kingsguard, also deserted him. Lord Daemon Velaryon, the admiral of the royal fleet, was the first of the great lords to forsake Maegor, taking the royal fleet with him, and many other lords followed his example. The great houses of Lannister, Tyrell, and Arryn came out against Maegor and in the riverlands House Tully gave support to Septon Moon and Ser Joffrey Doggett, the leaders of the Poor Fellows.
Maegor called his banners in response, but few answered, giving Maegor an army of barely four thousand soldiers. Despite this, Maegor refused to surrender. At the end of the war council, Maegor remained behind alone in the throne room to brood. He was found dead the next morning by Queen Elinor, seated on the Iron Throne with his robes covered in blood and his wrists slashed. A spike from one of the swords on the throne behind him was impaled through the back of his neck. How Maegor died was never discovered. Some say he had been killed by Queen Elinor, others that he had been killed by a knight of his own Kingsguard. Yet others say he had been killed by a builder who escaped the slaughter three years earlier and desired revenge, and many believe that Maegor had been killed by the throne itself. Others believe that Maegor killed himself by opening his wrists on the blades of the Iron Throne.

The fate of Maegor’s loyal supporters.

Owen Bush was a knight of the Kingsguard during the reign of King Maegor I Targaryen. When Maegor suspected Queen Tyanna of the Tower of betrayal, he had Owen and his sworn brother, Ser Maladon Moore, bring her to the dungeons, where she confessed.
Maegor the Cruel gradually lost political support, resulting in a rival threat in his nephew, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. Two of his Kingsguard defected to Jaehaerys, and Maegor lost a third guard when Owen was found dead outside a brothel in 48 AC, his member cut off and stuffed in his mouth.
Maladon Moore was a knight from House Moore and a member of the Kingsguard during the reign of King Maegor I Targaryen. When the king suspected Queen Tyanna of the Tower of treason, Maladon and Owen were dispatched to seize the queen and deliver her to the dungeons, where Maegor was said to have slain her while Maladon was present.
After Maegor died in 48 AC and his nephew King Jaehaerys I Targaryen took the Iron Throne, Maladon was accused of being involved in the death of Queen Ceryse, allegedly restraining her when Ser Owen accidentally killed her. Maladon denied these charges, insisting she died of "shrewishness". While the charges were never proven, Maladon lost his head for his involvement in Queen Tyanna's death, of which he was guilty.
When Queen Tyanna of the Tower admitted to poisoning Queen Alys Harroway during her pregnancy, Tyanna promised the same would happen to Elinor. Tyanna was proven correct when Elinor gave birth to a stillborn abomination said to have been born eyeless and with small wings. Elinor was one of the two wives who survived the king, the other being Queen Rhaena Targaryen.
After King Maegor's death, Lord Daemon Velaryon proposed that King Jaehaerys I Targaryen marry Queen Elinor to reconcile with Maegor's supporters when a bride was being considered for the king, but nothing came of the proposal. After Jaehaerys's ascent, Elinor departed King's Landing dressed in the robes of a penitent. She visited her two elder sons at the Eyrie and Highgarden before retiring to her father's seat at the Three Towers with her youngest son.
Later, King Jaehaerys commanded Elinor to go forth and spread his Doctrine of Exceptionalism to the peoples of the Seven Kingdoms, as well as the goodness of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, becoming one of the Seven Speakers. Her queenly raiment became shabbier and more threadbare each day, and she eventually gave up all claims to nobility, becoming Mother Elinor at the great motherhouse in Lannisport.
House Rosby was one of the first houses to yield peacefully to House Targaryen during Aegon's Conquest, surrendering to Rhaenys Targaryen and Meraxes. The Rosby lands became part of the crownlands surrounding King's Landing. Lord Jon Rosby was named Warden of the Sands by King Aegon I Targaryen during the First Dornish War, but Jon was killed in the Defenestration of Sunspear.
Ser Rayford Rosby defended King Maegor I Targaryen during his trial of seven, but Rayford was slain during the fighting. Lord Rosby remained loyal to the king even as his downfall became certain, and was one of the last to see the king alive. In the chaos that followed the discovery of Maegor's body, Lord Rosby drank a cup of hemlock to join his king in death. His young son received forgiveness from King Jaehaerys I Targaryen at Dragonstone.
In 47 AC, King Maegor was dealing with the issue of his lack of heirs, despite having already married three women. Lord Daemon Velaryon, Rhaena's uncle and a member of Maegor's small council, advised Maegor to wed Rhaena, to unite their claims and prevent new rebellions, and to gain her as a hostage against any potential schemes of Dowager Queen Alyssa. Later that year, Maegor summoned Rhaena to King's Landing, and she did not defy him. At the Red Keep, Maegor married Rhaena in a triple ceremony, together with Elinor Costayne and Jeyne Westerling. As the three women were all widows of men Maegor had killed, they became known as the "Black Brides". Immediately following the wedding, Maegor declared Rhaena's elder daughter Aerea as his heir until he had sons of his own, while disinheriting Rhaena's youngest brother Jaehaerys in the same decree.
After Maegor’s death, discussion arose as to who had the better claim to the Iron Throne. There were some who suggested that Rhaena's claim, as the firstborn child of King Aenys I Targaryen and Queen Alyssa Velaryon, was the strongest. Her gender argued against her, however, and Rhaena herself had come to loathe King's Landing and its court. The claims of her daughters were argued for as well. If Maegor was to be considered a usurper, the true king would have been Rhaena's first husband, Aegon, who had claimed the throne before Jaehaerys had. As such, some suggested the throne should pass to one of his daughters by Rhaena, Aerea or Rhaella.
As time passed, Rhaena began to resent the fact that her claim to the throne, and that of her daughters, had been dismissed in favor of Jaehaerys, to whom she began to refer as "my baby brother". In addition, Rhaena begrudged her mother for promoting Jaehaerys's claim over her own.
Ser Walton Towers was granted Harrenhal by King Maegor I Targaryen in 44 AC after winning a melee in Lord Harroway's Town, but Walton died soon after from his wounds. Harrenhal thus passed to his eldest son. Lord Jordan remained loyal to Maegor during the king's wars, and Lord Rosby were the last to see the king alive before Maegor's death on the Iron Throne. Along with Lords Darklyn and Staunton, Jordan yielded the Red Keep to Prince Jaehaerys, Princess Rhaena, and Princess Alysanne Targaryen. The three lords were sent to the black cells, but were eventually pardoned by King Jaehaerys I after surrendering some of their land.
Jordan eventually died of a chest congestion. Harrenhal passed to Jordan's last surviving son, Maegor Towers, as Jordan's older sons had all died fighting for King Maegor.
Maegor's father, Lord Jordan Towers, was one of the last lords of the Seven Kingdoms who remained loyal to King Maegor I Targaryen. All of Jordan's sons died fighting in the king's wars, with the exception of young Maegor.
Maegor became Lord Towers after the death of his father due to a chest congestion. When King Jaehaerys I Targaryen began a royal progress in 53 AC to celebrate the new year, his first stop was to see the new Lord of Harrenhal, then only nine years of age.
Maegor was an impoverished lord who resided in the Tower of Dread with only a cook and three men-at-arms. Since the rest of Harrenhal was empty, King Jaehaerys settled his widowed sister, Rhaena Targaryen, in the Widow's Tower in 56 AC. Maegor and Rhaena eventually became friends, and she cared for his servants after Maegor passed away in 61 AC. Harrenhal was granted to House Strong after Rhaena passed away in 73 AC.
Maegor was sickly and poor.
Socrates speaks his last words to Crito: "Crito, we owe a cock to Asclepius. Please, don't forget to pay the debt". Asclepius was the Greek god for curing illness, and it is likely that Socrates' last words were implied to mean that death is the cure, and freedom of the soul from the body.
Asclepius, Greco-Roman god of medicine, son of Apollo (god of healing, truth, and prophecy) and the mortal princess Coronis. The Centaur Chiron taught him the art of healing. At length Zeus (the king of the gods), afraid that Asclepius might render all men immortal, slew him with a thunderbolt.
Zeus saw Asclepius & his medical skills as a threat to the eternal division between humanity & the gods. Asclepius met a tragic end when he was killed by a thunderbolt thrown by Zeus.
Socrates ultimately does not fear death because of his innocence, he believes that death is not feared because it may be one of the greatest blessings of the soul.
The reasons for Socrates not escaping when he had the chance the night prior; are made explicit before the Laws make their speech. Because escape defies the will of the Athenians, it requires stealth and bribery, shameful practices that are unjustified in the current situation.
Socrates Feared Democracies Would Elect Demagogues. The term arose in Greece in the fifth century BCE, right around Socrates's time, and is often used negatively. Socrates himself was extremely worried that the democratic format would give rise to a demagoguery.
Demagogues are political leaders who seek support by appealing to the desires and prejudices of ordinary people rather than by using rational argument.
Modern demagogues include Adolf Hitler, Benito Mussolini, Huey Long, Father Coughlin, and Joseph McCarthy, all of whom built mass followings the same way that Cleon did: by exciting the passions of the masses against customs and norms of the aristocratic elites of their times.

This is why Maegor and Socrates died. They challenged authority and lost. They were silenced by the powerful lords and by the elected council of Athens whom were given power by the common people.
They were “heroes”.
“My own heroes are the dreamers, those men and women who tried to make the world a better place than when they found it, whether in small ways or great ones. Some succeeded, some failed, most had mixed results... but it is the effort that's heroic, as I see it. Win or lose, I admire those who fight the good fight.
George R.R. Martin.
King Maegor had married all his brides and gave them Queenly status.

Jeyne was married to Lord Alyn Tarbeck. She was widowed when Alyn died during the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye in 43 AC. Jeyne was pregnant when her husband died, and gave him a posthumous son a few months later.

In 47 AC, Jeyne was being courted by a younger son of Lyman Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock, when King Maegor I Targaryen sent for her to be wed to him. She married Maegor in a ceremony at King's Landing, along with Lady Elinor Costayne and Princess Rhaena Targaryen. As all three women had been widowed due to Maegor, they became known as the "Black Brides". The stories told of the wedding night claim that Jeyne was given a fertility potion by Queen Tyanna of the Tower, and either drank it, or threw it in Tyanna's face. After the wedding, Queen Jeyne's son was confirmed as Lord of Tarbeck Hall, and sent to Casterly Rock to be raised as a ward of Lyman Lannister.

Lord Edwell Celtigar, the Hand of the King, announced half a year after the wedding that Queen Jeyne was pregnant, and Queen Elinor's pregnancy was announced shortly afterwards. Maegor, joyful, showered both his wives with gifts and honors, and granted new lands and offices to their fathers, brothers, and uncles. Unfortunately, Jeyne's labor began three months early, and she gave birth to a stillborn child, monstrous, lacking arms and legs but possessing both male and female genitalia. Jeyne herself died soon after.

In 48 AC, Tyanna of the Tower confessed to having poisoned Jeyne's child in the womb.
This is all on the awoiaf wiki.
George is a better writer than we’ve given him credit for.
At the end of Maegor’s reign, House Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell and Arryn rebelled against Maegor. Maegor had sent the young son of his fourth wife (Jeyne Westerling) as a ward(hostage) to House Lannister. Then he sent the two eldest sons of his sixth wife (Elinor Costayne) as wards(hostages) to House Tyrell and House Arryn. When the great houses rebelled, Lord Daemon Velaryon, the brother of Alyssa Velaryon, escaped with the Royal Fleet and left King’s Landing.
Maegor called his banners to fight against the threat but they were too few and Elinor Costayne begged him to surrender to save her two eldest sons and the son of the long deceased Jeyne Westerling. He banned her from the council room and refused to surrender and his lords and him and Rhaena made battle plans well into the night.
At the end of the war council, Maegor dismissed everyone and stayed alone in the throne room to brood.
The following morning, Elinor Costayne found the King dead, his wrists slashed and throat impaled on the back of the Iron Throne.
Lord Rosby was one of the last people to see his king alive and drank a cup of hemlock to follow him in death.
Lord Jordan Towers named his last son Maegor and died of a chest conjection after Jaehaerys’ ascension to the Throne.
Elinor Costayne left King’s Landing while donning the clothes of a penitent and eventually renounced all claims to nobility and became the owner of a Motherhouse in Lannisport.
Ser Maladon Moore was executed for his involvement in Queen Tyanna’s death whom had confessed to poisoning King Maegor’s wives.
Queen Rhaena was expelled from King’s Landing and her claim to the Throne was ignored because of her gender.
Ser Owen Bush was found dead in a brothel with his cock stuffed in his mouth.

It's been over a month of no contact. I feel like I've been doing ok, focusing on myself with work and hobbies. But lately I've been realizing how lonely I am. How lonely I was before I met her. She was someone I genuinely was interested in learning more about. I could share with her, laugh with her. We talked all the time. We always wanted to know what the other was doing, or what we could do together. She was my best friend. Things had to end the way they did, but now I have so much time to myself to miss her, to miss being interesting and loved. To miss answering questions and asking back. Sharing art, music, memes. It's all gone and it kinda sucks, you know. I've always been introverted, and it's a struggle to put myself out there. She was someone who pulled me out of my shell.
Is anyone else struggling with this? I feel like I'm alone in these feelings.

A few months back I saw a painting being sold outside the MET around the time they had Degas on display inside.
This painting was of 4 ballerinas dancing with each one had their own spotlight of them with a black background. Somewhat simple artwork but I have not found it since that day. I have checked outside with the vendors and checked online a few times. Does anyone know where I can find this art piece?

It happened. He didn't deny that. Not like he was a suspect or anything—not yet—but he never denied it to himself. At the same time, this all happened over a decade ago—twelve years to be exact.
He didn't think of it every day; in fact, sometimes an entire month would go by where it barely crossed his mind.
In a way, that whole experience—he thought of all the abductions and murders as a singular event—now felt as if it belonged to somebody else.
It was a time in his life when he was confused, mixed-up, searching; a dark time, you know, like a phase. Who didn't have one of those in their past?
Plus, he was married now. His wife, Dee, obviously didn't know about it and he felt no obligation to tell her. Did he ask about her former lovers?
Sometimes there are things in the past and you just let them be. Whether it was Dee losing her virginity to the quarterback of the football team in the backseat at a drive-in or him using multiple black garbage bags and masking tape on that thing he didn't have time to bury in rural Tennessee, everyone has things they would rather forget about. Sometimes you just leave things where they lie.
So that's what Ned Doyle did.
Until that Sunday morning, November 6th, 1988.
He was a having a glass of Dee's pulpy homemade orange juice, waiting for his coffee to percolate, when he opened his heavy weekend edition of the New York Times (probably Ned's greatest extravagance—he liked its heft; and how the Arts & Leisure section made him feel culturally superior to his Ohio townsfolk, “the Philistines of Findlay,” he called them) when he saw the article buried in the back.
The country was two days from heading to the polls for the General Election—Bush v. Dukakis—so most everything else that week had been relegated to the back.
He read the article twice before he could even begin to make sense of it. It seemed to be a story about something called "DNA fingerprinting" and a 27-year-old baker in Great Britain named Colin Pitchfork who had confessed to raping and murdering two 15-year-old girls, in separate incidents a few years apart, after a new scientific process had been used to extract information from semen which he, Colin Pitchfork, had left at the crime scenes (likely inside the victims) some five years earlier.
Now if they could do all that after five years, why not ten years—or maybe even… twelve?
"Interesting story here," he said to Dee. It wasn't uncommon for Ned to read a news story twice—once for himself and a second time aloud to Dee while she brewed his coffee and burnt her toast. But this was his third reading and Ned acted as if it were his first.
"What do you make of that?" he asked. It somehow got worse each time he read it. After the third time, he felt as if he had been sucker punched in the stomach.
"Science Fiction is what it sounds like," Dee said matter-of-factly, pouring Ned his coffee in a mug that bore the Marathon Oil insignia. Findlay, Ohio was Marathon’s headquarters although there had been rumors circulating about a move to Texas.
"And unconstitutional," he said. "Cops running a dragnet like that, taking blood samples from 5,000 townspeople. Thankfully, that would never pass the muster here."
"They did catch the killer so maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea," she said, buttering her burnt toast. "Otherwise, who knows? They could have convicted the wrong man.”
Ned had already gotten lucky once – astonishingly so. Griffin Gerald Jones, the famed “I-75 Corridor Child Killer,” had claimed responsibility for all but one of Ned’s victims before dying in Florida’s electric chair.
"You can't have police in this country running around, sticking everyone with needles, drawing blood for some sort of science experiment,” he said. “Nevermind the Constitution, what about AIDS?”
“What about it?” she asked.
“There's been hundreds, thousands of cases now where people have been infected by giving blood,” he said. “That's a medical fact. Get accused of a crime and AIDS too?"
"It doesn't sound like any of the townspeople there in England got AIDS, darling. Unless there's more to the story, besides what you read to me."
He watched her spread orange marmalade over her burnt toast and take a bite. She had a dead tooth and he saw it every time she opened her mouth. He loved Dee but had never been sexually attracted to her. Not in the way he had been attracted to others.
"It really is just a matter of time before that stuff makes it over here," she said with her mouth full. "To this side of the pond, as they say." She took a sip of his orange juice. "Isn’t that how it always works? Things start over there in England, or in California, and then phht, before you know it, it makes its way to Findlay."
He held his hand over his stomach. She saw him wince.
"Was it my orange juice again? Was it still pulpy? I squeezed it by hand and even strained it twice this time."
"It’s not your fault,” he said. “I think it’s me. Orange juice is getting too… acidic for me." He looked at the clock on the coffee maker. "I'm going to be late."
He turned the page.
He played the 8 o'clock Mass by rote as he had many a bleary-eyed Sunday morning. It was pure muscle memory at this point. He made a few mistakes here and there, missed a key or two, but it was nothing the organ's sustain pedal couldn't mask – not that anyone would complain (not at the 8 o'clock anyway).
On Sundays Ned had four Masses: the 8, the 9:30, the big one at 11, and the 12:30 for the dilettantes who couldn't get their acts together for the 11.
He turned the page.
Today he was using Glory and Praise, AKA "the blue hymnal" for songs he knew by heart.
Turning the pages of his sheet music, reading each note, he was able to keep his mind off it.
Ned abhorred cliches (especially those involving sports) but he made an exception for “Out of sight, out of mind.” For Ned, that wasn’t a cliché; it was a way of life. He was a man who preferred to be heard, not seen, which made St. Bartholomew (or St. Bart’s) the perfect home for him.
In a spectacular architectural oversight, the church's pipe organ was situated so the organist's back was to the altar and pews. The organist of course needs to see what's going on in the Mass to read certain non-verbal cues but the arrangement suited Ned just fine. The congregation was comprised of many young families who had many young children—boys in particular—and it wasn't so much that he couldn't control himself because he was now firmly in control of all that; it was more that he didn't need any reminders of that time when he couldn't.
Especially during church.
So to see the altar behind him, Ned had installed an actual rearview mirror, the type you'd find on an old Buick, and he used a special type of putty to affix it to the mantle of the pipe organ. Having been the church organist at St. Bart's for nine years, he seldom needed it anymore—he could do it in his sleep—but it came in handy today as he found his attention drifting and he nearly missed the oratory refrain at the 9:30 Mass.
His real problems didn't start until the 35-minute break between the 8 and 9:30.
He was reorganizing his sheet music after the first wave of churchgoers had cleared out, when he began thinking about Colin Pitchfork again. The article said he was a baker in England somewhere—did it say he baked cakes or was that Ned's invention?
Even though no picture was provided in the Times article, Ned spent the balance of the 9:30 service picturing the 27- year-old ex-rapist/murderer working in his small English bakery, quietly going about his business, baking his cakes, when the police (Bobbies?) came.
Was he expecting them?
He played the offertory hymn, "On Eagle's Wings," as the ushers began taking up the collections and a family of parishioners he’d never seen before brought the gifts up.
And what was going through Pitchfork's head when he saw the Bobbies there? When they began asking him about rapes and murders that happened almost five years ago? The article said that he had initially given investigators someone else's blood when “the enquiry” began. Had he somehow caught wind of this “DNA Fingerprinting?”
There was a new usher, Ned noticed, in his makeshift rearview mirror.
The Times article said that one of Pitchfork's co-workers at the bakery had taken the blood test masquerading as Pitchfork because Pitchfork had told the co-worker that ‘he could not give blood under his own name because he had already given blood while pretending to be a friend of his who had wanted to avoid being harassed by police because of a youthful conviction for burglary.’ This story was later overheard by a woman in a pub who immediately went to the police.
Ned realized he had missed the homily twice now. Not that it mattered. Heard one you've heard them all and Ned was pretty sure there would be no surprises. Plus, he'd have two more chances to catch it. He knew he would have to really focus for the 11 o'clock. That was always the main event. He was going to play "I Will Raise Him Up," a complex hymn, which required his full attention. He would scratch that one now if he hadn’t read that article and if the Sunday programs hadn't already been printed. People liked that one –it was a real barn burner, as they say—and if he skipped it, there might be questions.
The last thing Ned needed right now were fucking questions.
Who was this new usher, by the way?

By the start of the 11 o'clock Mass, Ned wondered whether anyone would even show for the 12:30, seeing that it was already standing room only. The 11 was always the most popular Mass, but today felt different; it was packed like Christmas Eve. What was the occasion? Was the predominantly conservative town that afraid of Dukakis winning the presidency? Ohio was a swing state after all and that image of the little Greek man in the tank was unnerving, sure, but was it enough to warrant this sort of turnout for the 11 AM Mass at St. Bart's in Findlay?
Or was something else going on?
Ned didn’t believe they had come to hear his rendition of "I Will Raise Him Up."
Or could there be another reason? Maybe they had all read the same Times article. Maybe there had long been simmering suspicion of Ned in the community and maybe the article finally prompted the townspeople to join together and take arms. With pitchforks.
On March 31, 1892, the only known lynching in the history of Hancock County occurred when a mob of 1,000 men, many "respectable citizens," broke into the county jail in Findlay. They lynched Mr. Lytle, a man who had killed his wife and two daughters with a hatchet the day before. The townsfolk hanged the man twice (first from the bridge, then a telegraph pole) and then, in a classic case of overkill, shot his body over a dozen times. The authorities had intended to transfer the prisoner out of town at 1 o'clock in secret, where a train was scheduled to transport him to Lima, but someone talked.
Ned had only confessed what he had done to one person – a priest eight years prior. The priest was set to retire as he was dying of pancreatic cancer and visiting from a nearby parish. For years Ned had heard this priest was “of the old school” – i.e., your word to God’s ear, and it went no further. He was as safe as they come. Still, even then, Ned used the screened side of the Confessional, lowered his voice a full octave, and spoke of what he had done obliquely and in generalities. They were mortal sins. His penance severe: to repent and refrain from repeating the act again. The priest was now long dead. There’s no way he could have tracked Ned down and told anyone. Was there?
The last one was named Derek. That was the only one left unsolved.
He would play "I Will Raise Him Up" during Communion. Because of the crowds, he knew the communion lines would be longer and would thus require him to stretch the already difficult song a few minutes longer. If he was going to supply the masses, he was going to need a bigger yield. In a way it was like baking a cake, wasn't it?
He met Derek at a Dairy Queen in Paducah, Kentucky. It was Labor Day 1976. It must have been 100 degrees out, but it felt even hotter with the humidity. It was a real scorcher.
Derek had a bicycle with an American flag banana seat. It was the summer of Bicentennial Fever. The Dairy Queen was in an area known as Noble Park. It had a tin canopy that kept cars cool in the shade.
Ned missed a note as he turned the page. He stepped on the sustain pedal and his mistake sounded deliberate and beautiful even.
It was early evening; fireflies were out in full force and Ned was blotto. He had been drinking beer—cans of Schlitz—all day at the picnic of a friend (technically, the friend of an acquaintance so basically a stranger). A born introvert who still lived alone (this was pre-Dee), Ned was very drunk and primed for small talk. You must also remember this was a very different time. This was back when you still opened cans with an opener; drunk driving was frowned upon but not the cardinal sin it is today; and a grown man could still park outside a Dairy Queen and strike up an innocent conversation with a prepubescent boy on a bike.
"What da ya' got there?" Ned asked.
"Butterscotch Sundae," the boy said. The boy was blonde with brown eyes.
"Butterscotch, eh?"
The boy licked his plastic spoon and stared somewhere beyond the pea-green 1974 Buick Riviera Ned had inherited from his old man after he had kicked the bucket.
"For the life of me, I can't remember if I like butterscotch or not," Ned said. "That probably sounds pretty screwy, I bet."
"Get a free sample at the window,” the kid said. “They're free."
"Looks awfully busy over there. Mind if I have a taste of yours? I don't have any cooties, I promise."
The kid dragged his spoon over his ice cream as he mulled it over. Maybe seeing that he was almost done with it anyway, he figured what's the harm. He handed Ned the Styrofoam cup.
Ned looked at the boy as he stirred it a little and then placed the curved side of the spoon on his tongue and kept it there.
"I do like butterscotch," Ned said, giving it back. "Thank you for sharing that with me, that was awfully kind of you—say, what is your name?"
"Derek," the boy said.
"Derek. What a nice boy you are. Do you like dogs, Derek?"
"Sure," Derek said.
"Do you have a dog?"
"Not anymore. Used to. We had a beagle named Eleanor but she went blind and then lame and then..."
"What kind of dog was she?" Ned asked.
"A beagle," the boy said.
"A beagle, yes you said that. You like Golden Retrievers?"
"Sure," the boy said.
"Cause I have a Golden Retriever. It's a girl too. A bitch."
Derek smiled.
"She's pregnant. I mean she was. But… she just gave birth."
"To puppies?"
"You betcha. It was just a few weeks ago. She had a whole litter of 'em. Boys, girls. Cutest little pups you've ever seen. The thing is, Derek, I don't know what to do with them all. You're a nice boy. You just shared your Butterscotch Sundae with me and I'd care to return the favor. Would you… like a puppy?"
"How much?"
"For nothing,” Ned said. “For free.”
"You'll give me a puppy for nothing? And I can pick the one I want?"
"Sure can. They're at my place just down the road. Thing is, it's probably too far to bike there. And you're going to need both hands to hold on to the puppy. Hop in, I’ll give you a lift."
"What about my bike?"
"We could put it in the trunk but we're not going to be long. We'll be right back. It'll be safe here. People don't take things that aren’t theirs around here – especially when there's a lot of people around."
He remembered waking up on the floor of his apartment disoriented. He was late for work. He was still working as a salesman at the piano store. There was a big Labor Day sale still going on. Labor Day was always a big day for retail. The owner was a nice man and Ned wanted to call him and apologize but he wasn't sure what to say yet.
He hadn't planned on sleeping in. Forgetting work on Labor Day. The irony.
He saw the boy's underwear on his floor. They were tighty-whities from Fruit of the Loom. He thought of that every time he saw an ad for that company afterward.
They weren’t bloody but they were torn.
He remembered the sound of the filter on the aquarium he used to keep in his apartment. It was noisy but sometimes that was a good thing. He was very into Japanese Fighting Fish for a while until it became too expensive as they always killed each other.
There were no puppies obviously.
His apartment did not allow dogs.
His sense of disorientation and the ensuing panic prevented him from experiencing any of the usual remorse he felt afterward.
There would be plenty of time for that later.
The boy's body was in the bathroom just off the bedroom and he needed to get rid of it. He needed to get out of town. Out of Paducah. Out of Kentucky.
He placed the boy in a hardshell Samsonite suitcase, carried it out of his apartment, walked down the one flight of steps. He saw no one and he was confident no one had seen him. The suitcase was lighter than it should have been—a detail he never forgot—and he walked out to the carport where he saw his Riviera parked sloppily between the lines. He felt a wave of nausea come over him but he suppressed it. He opened his trunk, placed the suitcase in the back, and then looked around the apartment complex before walking back inside. He cleaned up with bleach. Showered. Hit the road.
There were no police gathered outside the Dairy Queen. It wasn’t a crime scene. He didn't look to see if the boy’s bike was still there; he didn’t want to appear suspicious.
He needed to get out of Paducah so he headed toward the freeway.
For a moment he briefly considered the Shawnee National Forest, which was to the north, but he stuck to his gut and took the newly-constructed Interstate 24 East toward Tennessee. Aside from getting out of Kentucky, he didn't have a plan. The asphalt was brand new and at times he felt as though he were floating across the highway. It took about two hours to get to the state line and once he was over, he filled up at a 76 Station in Clarksville, Tennessee. Only when he was filling his tank and had a moment to reflect, did he think about what was in the trunk. He imagined he had Superman's X-Ray vision and pictured the suitcase in the back, the boy's tiny body folded like a pretzel inside.
He missed both the readings, the Gospel, and the homily again. Then came the Consecration which was over before he knew it. It was time. He began to play "I Will Raise Him Up." In his rearview, he saw the communion lines forming and he thought he caught a glimpse of the new usher staring at him, but he couldn't be sure. He needed to concentrate on the song. People knew this one; people wanted to hear it exactly as they remembered it, and it was a full house, so the sustain pedal wouldn't save him this time.
Once he made it through the chorus, he knew he could relax a little.
The "DNA fingerprinting" in Pitchfork's case came from semen that was left inside of the victims.
Ned had made it to the outskirts of Nashville faster than he expected. He still hadn't checked in with Mr. Cory, the owner of the piano store. He desperately needed an alibi. Old Mr. Cory could probably send Ned to the electric chair if he wasn't careful.
He got on Highway 386 and headed north. After 20 minutes, he exited in Gallatin and drove around until he found an area he thought was remote. There was a road called Cages Bend.
He liked the sound of that.
It sounded hopeful.
He took that until he came to a gravel road, which looked as if it led to an even more secluded wooded area.
In the rearview, he remembered the cloud of dust kicked up by the tires of the Riviera he had inherited from his father, the drunk, who had done to him what he had gone on to do to others.
In the rearview, the communion lines were still going strong. No sign of that new usher.
He came upon a bend in the road that looked totally secluded, as if no one had been there in years. He cut the engine and listened for a moment. The invisible cicadas high up in the trees made it sound as if a giant rattle snake was slithering around him, preparing to strike. He got out of the car.
He didn't know if it was the trees or the fields of tall grass, but something smelled like semen.
He opened the trunk with his keys and pulled out the hardshell suitcase. When he closed the trunk there was a rustling in the tall grass but when he looked, he saw only a herd of white tail deer scattering.
Initially he had planned on dumping the body and taking the suitcase home with him. He didn't think to bring a shovel. Then he heard the sound of a bush hog—a piece of farm equipment with spinning blades that cut vegetation and cleared the land. He couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. He checked to make sure his suitcase didn't have any labels on it or name tags. He then two black trash bags in his back seat and wrapped the suitcase – one bag around the top, the other on the bottom, and secured it with masking tape. Then he carried it into the woods and set it down in some brush. He began snapping tree branches off to make cover but as the bush hog got louder and closer he panicked, leaving it only partially covered.
The communion lines had dissipated. Everyone was sitting now, even the priest.
Everyone always knelt until the priest sat and Ned should never be playing if the priest was sitting but somehow, Ned had missed his cue.
He concluded "I Will Raise Him Up" softly, using the sustain to ease himself out.
He looked in the rearview and saw the priest staring at him.
As was the rest of the congregation.
They would all be coming for him soon enough.
Unless he could make it back down to Tennessee and get rid of that thing once and for all – assuming it hadn’t been found yet.
Somehow, deep down, Ned always knew it was going to happen.
He was raised up, alright.
Now it was just a matter of time.

(Putting this in ERP just in case, bc it does mention that, but nothing explicit!)
Okay, this is pretty standard BS, but it happened three times in a row and it's driving me nuts.
So I made an account on a popular booru site (so I could place my art there, instead of having others randomly do it), and they had an RP/ERP request thread. So I was like yeah, sure, sounds fun!
I'm a para/multipara (third person past tense) player who really enjoys character dynamics over everything else. I have a pretty detailed "roleplay" segment on my website that goes over some basics; how I play, that I do NOT use IMs (Discord), where I do play (Dreamwidth, gdocs, email, rpnow, etc.), and the stupid "I don't condone what bad guys do in fiction" disclaimer. Pretty standard for people who do multi-para, I think? But I haven't met many in quite a while, so maybe I am kind of odd.
First person approaches me, we chat, seems like a fun idea! I ask them to write up the starter because I'd be busy until later and they're like, sure, no problem.
The starter was: "Wow, I need to go deeper into the forest to find herbs!"
Like. That's it. I asked what part of my RP post made it seem like I was that kind of player, and they responded "I guess I'm just not good enough for you" or some other passive-aggressive shit. Cut them off, whatever, I've had that happen before.
Second person contacts me. Very well-spoken, but asks me if I use Discord. I don't, as it states in my post. They then ask where else we could RP. Which is also written in my post, as follows: "RPNow > Dreamwidth > gDocs > RP email." They ask if that means I'm converting the RP from one thing into GDocs like a story. I explain what ">" means (jesus christ). They continue to ask me the same question: "Where else can we RP?" Buddy just get over that I won't use Discord, please! IMs stress me out!
Third person. All lowercase. "want 2 rp"
"Did you read my info?" "yeah"
"Okay, what did you have in mind?" "18+ shipping rp"
"....you sure you read my info?"
Anyway, I just stopped responding to them, but at least they didn't get passive-aggressive like the first one.
I've encountered a LOT of wild stuff with RP these days, like people getting mad if you play a villain as a villain, people being really up in arms about certain kinks, but more than that I've just had this overwhelming deluge of... low effort, typing-with-one-hand-ERP type stuff.
I miss RPing! I don't have a lot of energy to do it anymore, and this just always puts a damper on things D: Have any of you noticed this? Is it more unique to SFW or NSFW RP? Or fandom vs nonfandom? I'm really curious, since I played both on Furcadia (lol) and Tumblr (before 2018 obvs) and rarely had this issue.

Hi folks,
I’m looking to get some healthy, real-talk relationship input from kind strangers who are successfully married or have kids etc. I’m at a bit of a fork in the road and need some advice.
I am a mid-30s male, who got out of a decade-long relationship almost 2 years ago to date.
I dated on and off for 18 months, some semi-serious relationships with good people, some more short-term. All in all I “dated” probably 20-25 people, accounting everything from just a coffee meet-up to people I saw for a few months within that number. In that time, I didn’t date anyone I could see a long-term future with.
However, six months ago, I met someone who I really care about, and who is a fantastic woman with a very gentle soul. She ticks a lot of the boxes of what I am looking for in a long-term partner.
There is a school of modern pragmatic dating advice that stresses not looking for perfection, or overly focusing on the superficial, but looking for shared values, great communication, life goals, and character traits etc. Their line of thinking really resonates with me and makes sense. Logan Buchy, Mark Manson, and others espouse this general philosophy, which is a bit of an antidote to the illusion of choice/ grass is always greener symptoms of modern dating.
I bring this up because I am questioning aspects of the relationship that might fall under their “this doesn’t matter too much” advice. However, I don’t want to forge ahead trying to build the relationship, only to realize 1-2 or even 10 years down the line it isn’t going to work for me, which would be exponentially more painful.
I’d like to hear from people as to how they felt about aspects of their now successful life partner relationship at a similar stage to help me contextualize.
THE GOOD

• The communication is unbelievable and has been from day one. She is an incredibly empathetic, deep, kind, and soft person. She is a very skilled communicator and connector also due in part to her job as a social worker. She allows me to communicate in a way that was alien to me in relationships before this point. Pretty much nothing is off the table (except for a couple of things at the end of this essay) and even when we talk through difficulties, it seems to bring us closer together. She feels the same way; that our communication is special. I think it unlikely I would find communication like it again.
• Life goals are well aligned. We both want kids, marriage, and have similar views on what that looks like. We are both keen to invest in a relationship to make it special, and realize at least in principle, that the trials and tribulations are something to be conquered together and make you stronger as a partnership.
• Our strengths and flaws seem to complement each other. She is anxious attached, and has had some bad relationships in the past, but she is super intelligent and is able to rationalize a lot of the time/ seek assurance from me when she needs to, or bids for connection when she needs it. I don’t mind this (deep down it can be a bit annoying/ frequent sometimes, but I recognize it’s what she needs and accommodate however possible). She says she gets the most important things to her from the relationship by me just being me - safety, reassurance, easygoing, deep communication, fun together etc. This feels like a huge complement, but also makes me feel guilty and try to do more, as she’s also very organized and conscientious, and puts a tonne of effort into planning things for us, coming up with ideas etc (I make a concerted effort to be proactive as well, but will just never match her 5 possible dates planned a week before we meet level, which she says she is absolutely fine with).
• She is smart, caring, supportive, has a team-first mentality, has a good career, and has a lovely family.
• We make our time together fun despite very different interests. I am into sports, fitness, outdoorsy stuff, enjoy a beer (she doesn’t drink), and while not an out and out extrovert, I am definitely more-so than her. She is enjoys family time, cooking, reading, arts and crafts. We have some overlap both love food, enjoy chill time, can both be nerdy, are open to doing new things together etc. This comes with some caveats – see below
• I am attracted to her and the sex is good – however this also comes with some reservations as per the below.

THE RESERVATIONS

• Attractiveness – This section may read like I am bit of a dick. Looks are important to me, I am a probably a fairly vain person who puts a decent amount of stock in my own physical appearance. I am also a guy and statistically, we over-select for looks in general, however I am conscious of this and am not making looks my NorthStar. She’s not the most attractive girl I’ve dated in the past few years, nor is she the least, which I think is fine and realistic in principle. What I am struggling a bit with is something I’ve not experienced before. It is strange but sometimes I find her really pretty and beautiful, and other times less so. She has the type of face that looks great at certain angles, and always great when she’s smiling, but other times not much, and she’s put a little weight on since we started dating. While she’s not fat or in bad shape, she’s not in “good shape” or athletic, although she has made comments about wanting me to help her get fitter of her own volition (I have never negged or dropped subtle hints here).
  • I think unfortunately for me, being physically attracted to someone is like a gateway or a damn. When I am attracted, everything else downstream lights up and feels great too. When I’m not I struggle more with feeling as invested.
  • She’s made lots of comments about how I’m the “hot one” in the relationship, and even asked me if I think I am “settling”, which I probably don’t need to hear. The worst parts of my ego are already thinking “is she hot enough” thoughts, probably as part of its own need for validation.
  • Right now, I am attracted to her enough that this probably isn’t a deal breaker, what I am worried that if I am thinking this way 6 months into a relationship, this could be a big issue down the line.
  • What makes things more complicated is this literally changes date to date. One weekend I might genuinely think “she looks really pretty” all is gravy. Another day maybe less so and the whole day I am less connected as a result. Additionally, her losing some weight or even getting into fitness as she has talked about would help in this regard, but it’s not fair for me to say that. I have never had such inconsistency in how attractive I find a romantic partner.
• Health/ Illness: She has a couple of non life-threatening health issues that I would have no problem supporting her through. My reservation here is around were we have kids, as one of them is very heritable, and 3 of her close family have the condition.
• Interests: She has no problem with my differing interests, nor me with hers. The time to be ourselves by ourselves will be welcome for both of us should this continue long term. My first point of reservation is that while there are lots of things we both enjoy, I wish there were just 1-2 things we were both really passionate about and could share deeply with each other. I think we both hope to build more into each others interests but I can’t see too much potential for interest beyond doing each others passions for the sake of the relationship and to spend time together. This has led to resentment in past relationships for me. Secondly, her much more low-key lifestyle coupled with her attachment style make her more reliant on my time and attention than I am hers, which has caused a couple of issues at times. Not the end of the world but a notable.

Finally, I find my feelings toward her have oscillated between (1 - yep, this is great, this could be it 2- I’m not sure about this) 8-10 times over the past six months. Has anyone else experienced these wavering levels of attachment? Is this normal, a portent of doom, or a me thing I need to figure out?
I guess I am struggling with weighting the great aspects with my reservations. There is so much great here that I don’t want to be that perfectionist seeking idiot, but at the same time, are these actually deal breakers for me that if I ignore I will cause an absolute mess.

She's a decent songwriter when she's not trying to be Lana Del Rey/Tori Amos and just sticks to bops like Shake It Off, and she makes good use of a thesaurus and her co-writers/ghost writers (not to mention words and literary references can be googled -- it's not hard), but having watched interviews/videos with her where she isn't reading from a speech/teleprompter, she doesn't strike me as someone with exceptional intelligence (as measured through IQ):

1. Video of her struggling to use chopsticks, and instead of looking at the people around her for a clue, she continues to stab her food until someone says something [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bkqM0Nll0E\]
2. Confusing Cricket for Rugby (I'm not a sports fan at all, nor am I from the UK, but even I know the difference). [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6b6E4iFKjSg\]
3. Confusing 'Warrior' with 'worrier'. ("I worry about literally everything... like...like...everything.") https://www.tiktok.com/@officialkaidenhsha/video/7317176672510348549
4. Touching fire? [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCH\_p6cxYiI\]
5. Various statements in interviews, which are not necessarily incorrect, but show a lack of interpersonal intelligence such as "I didn't realize I could advocate for a community I'm not a part of".
6. Constant misunderstanding of references she puts in her songs [https://www.reddit.com/SwiftlyNeutral/comments/18owufm/am\_i\_being\_too\_critical\_of\_this\_taylor\_swift\_lyric/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web3x&utm\_name=web3xcss&utm\_term=1&utm\_content=share\_button\]
7. Whatever this is: https://www.reddit.com/travisandtaylocomments/1d27134/was_she_drunk_af_during_this_what_was_this/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button I guess I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and say she was drunk. Though her behavior there doesn't contradict how she's been acting at NFL games, Coachella, VMAs, how she acted at the Met Gala back when she went, etc.

I'm sure people reading this thread can find other "Swiftisms" that are better than those examples, but what I'm getting at is she's never said anything profound that she wasn't reading off a card or prompter; she has never offered an original thought or said any of the $3 words she puts in her songs, or said anything that got me to think a different way or see a new viewpoint I hadn't considered. If I were to guess, I'd bet her IQ is between 98-103. She strikes me as someone within the normal range of IQ who wants to be seen as a genius. (I also think she receives a lot of credit for things; credit that her team deserves. But this is a hunch). Hell, Bob Dylan is a far better lyricist with a better vocabulary, and he has a 106 IQ.
The way Swifties talk about her, you'd think she sat around in her free time translating The Iliad, was a walking dictionary, and had mastered chess.
Gardner's Theory of Multiple Intelligences: everyone seems to think she has a great logical-mathematical and naturalistic intelligence when she's more musically and intrapersonal intelligent. I'm not sure if I'd call her linguistically intelligent because the verbal skills aren't there.
I always thought Joe Alwyn and Tom Hiddleston bored her because they've both studied literature beyond a superficial level (naturalistic). Joe studied literature at Bristol for a time; Tom was a Shakespearean trained actor. These are two well read men who appear to be curious about the world and interested in understanding art on a deep level (from what I've gathered in interviews).
Taylor doesn't seem like someone who is a deep thinker when it comes to intellectual pursuits. So why does everyone think of her the way film buffs think of Stanley Kubrick? Or literary circles think of Nabokov? Why is she, more than most pop girlies, getting the Maynard James Keenan treatment with how fans dissect her music when she isn't even superior to many of her contemporaries in terms of writing?
Why does everyone assume that because she reuses a word or phrase from another song she's saying they're related and she's weaving this great web that connects everything? Why do they assume she's constantly telling stories to the public through how she dresses or gestures? A lot of what she does seems accidental, like the 5 holes in the fence and her adopting the stages of grief fan theory.
Tl;dr: Everyone says "Taylor is smarter than Travis", but they both seem vapid and neither are anything close to intellectuals. At least with Travis we know he scored a 22 on the Wonderlic (104 IQ). We have no standardized tests for Swift.
How did the narrative come to be that Taylor is a genius?

First Previous
Matthew Sky is a cowboy at heart, seeking a life of fulfillment and adventure beneath the limitless horizon. Now he's been recruited by an ancient order of pan-universal defenders to help protect humanity from the countless horrors waiting in the dark. With his sentient A/I partner by his side and the limitless potential of his incredible forge ring at his command, Matt is THE LAW on a new world that has fallen to chaos...he is THE FORGE KNIGHT.
Previously on the Forge Knight.
I saved a few elves from a fate worse than death, killed an enforcer for a bunch of crazy mages because he was being an asshole, and then I got ATTACKED by the same dang elves I rescued! This sure is turning into a chore, isn't it?
Dying Light Part 6.
-An interlude.
Dressed in silken finery, the elven mage stepped fearlessly into the darkened tavern and approached its sole occupied table, where a man sat drinking alone. His features were difficult to make out in the gloom of the place, but he was tall. Tall enough to come up chest-high to her even while seated.
“Are you the one they call the mad wolf?” she asked him.
“Aya,” he said without interest.
Janthra Nightveil didn’t care for the tepidity of his response. She was the personal apprentice of a great magus and a powerful practitioner of the dark arts herself. She expected more than a drunkard's nod.
She deserved more than that.
“I am Janthra,” she said proudly. “You will refer to me as mistress.”
“I could, perhaps,” the big man spoke with a lifeless rasp as he continued drinking from his mug. “Probably won’t, though.”
“I speak for a lord of the Advocacy,” she said. “In this matter, my words are his words. For reasons that are beyond me, he has decided that he requires your services, dog. You should be honored.”
“I should, should I?” he asked. “Now why’s that?”
“BECAUSE I TOLD YOU SO!” she shouted angrily as her hand swept the pitcher of mead off the table and sent the glass crashing on the floor.
Through the tavern windows, feeble moonlight struggled to provide basic illumination to the room. It cut off just around the man’s neck, leaving his face encased in darkness as he leaned back lazily in his chair. Only his eyes remained visible; gleaming like sharp orbs of reddish hued gold that stared at her with evident amusement.
That was when he struck a match to light a pipe that Janthra hadn’t realized he’d reached for. In the moment of light provided by it, she learned that the tavern wasn’t empty at all.
Bodies had been tossed aside haphazardly, lying dead all around them. Each of them torn apart in a fashion that she found…
…memorable.
Why hadn’t she noticed that?
Why hadn’t she smelled any blood?
“Well, Miss. If you say so, then you say so. Mind putting him on the line for me?” he asked.
“W-What?” Janthra asked nervously.
“Call him up, girl,” he said, emphasizing the last word.
“It isn’t for the likes of me to—”
“He won’t mind. We’re old drinking buddies,” the man assured her. Then he reached to the center of the table and tapped it firmly with a single, bloodstained finger. “Now,” he said.
Janthra made a swift motion with her hands and then held them before the table. From her palms, traces of darkness extended outward and formed an ebony globe that slowly molded itself into the shape of a faceless figure sitting on a throne.
When Janthra was finished the man snapped his fingers and then pointed towards the exit.
“What?” she asked in surprise.
“L’il above your pay, darling. Don’t take it to heart, though. You’re doing a fine job,” he said as he waited for her to leave. Once she was gone, he turned to the image of the shadow and said, “Howdy.”
“Pandemia Lunatica,” the shadow said, speaking the hunter’s name.
“Been a while,” Pandemia said in acknowledgement.
“My servants have failed me,” the shadow said without preamble. “The princess has escaped their reach and successfully contacted a Forge Knight.”
“And Volm?” Pandemia asked curiously. “What happened to him?”
“Disgraced. Defeated. Dead. His soul burns with contrition. Do not speak of him again,” the shadow said tersely.
“Well, Mister, what can really be said?” asked the amused hunter. “You don’t send a virgin to a cathouse unless you want him to be fucked.”
“Quaint,” replied the shadow.
“Don’t be like that,” said Pandemia. “When you don’t invest in quality, what you get is what you get.”
“I did not contact you seeking your smug advice, hunter,” the shadow said with baleful displeasure. “I’ve come to you seeking a solution. Kill the princess. Kill her companions. Kill the hope of their kingdom. Do these things for me and you will enjoy a considerable reward.”
“And what about the Forge Knight?” Lunatica said mildly as he finished with his pipe. “You want him dead, too?”
“He's interfered in matters that do not concern him once too often,” the shadow said. “If the opportunity presents itself, then kill him as well.”
“Well, now, that does sound like extra work to me,” the big man said as he walked to the bar for more mead and a glass to fill it with. “I’ve never met a forge knight yet who ever died easy.”
“Only because you enjoy taking your time killing them,” the shadow said with an audible sneer. “Stop prevaricating, bounty hunter, and name your price.”
“You know what?” Pandemia said after some consideration. “Just get me a few crates of lager and I’ll call us even on the work. I’ll even take my payment in some goddamn Budweiser. Whatever you can find, hoss, I’m just so very fucking tired of drinkin’ mead.”
The harsh laughter of the shadow filled the dead tavern.
“That’s something I’ve always admired about you, Mad Wolf,” it chortled. “Your genuine appreciation of life’s simpler pleasures.”
“Well, ain’t no need to be fancy about things, Sir,” Pandemia said as he donned his duster and hat. “It’s life’s ephemerality that makes it as enjoyable as it is. Wanting too much from it just dilutes the sweetness of its many flavors.”
“Truly the wisdom of the gutter,” the shadow smirked.
“Truly,” Pandemia said with a smirk of his own. “Got a little bit of bad news for you, though,” he added.
“And that is?” asked the shadow.
“That cute little apprentice o’yers mouthed off to me somethin’ fierce,” Pandemia said regretfully. “I’m gonna have to say something to her about it.”
“I don’t bemoan the price of doing business,” the shadow snorted dismissively as it began to fade away. “Do as you wish.”
Pandemia’s lips curled up into a pleased smile. “Always a nice thing to hear them words.”
He then exited the tavern while whistling a cheerful tune. “Hey, girlie,” he said as he approached her, where she waited impatiently. “Got some news from the boss.”
“What are they? What is the will of my master?” Janthra asked him imperiously. “Go on, dog! Speak up!”
In response, Pandemia stepped into her personal space and grinned at her, doing it in such a way that truly showed her in that moment, the depths of his smile and the sharpness of his teeth. Then he leaned towards her ear and whispered. “He said this is going to be a solo job.”
The apprentice’s eyes widened as she took a step backward. She quickly began speaking, trying desperately to say something that would stop what she now knew was coming, but Pandemia silenced her when he raised his hand and cut off her words.
Among other things.
When he was finished, Pandemia Lunatica began his walk east. He was in no hurry.
Wherever he wished to be, he would eventually find himself.

This is kind of a long story. I, (14f) have had a lot of issues with a close friend of mine, I'll call him Jaiden. Jaiden (14m), and I have been friends for about a year and a half, we met in 7th grade in Science Olympiad, and we got really close, due to past trauma, I confused our planonic relationship for me liking him, everything was resolved) This whole 'broken friendship' thing happened a while ago but I feel guilty and I want to know if I did the wrong thing, and if I did, I want to resolve it before school ends. To preface, our friendship was built on trust and honesty. He was sweet, caring, he listened, he made me feel better about myself, he supported me when I had a hard time in my life or if I was dealing with mental health issues. I hope that I was be the same safe space for him that he was for me. A couple months ago, I've noticed that he had changed, a lot from the person that I had originally became close with. He had become absolutely obsessed with working out and "brotein". I have no issue with him or anyone being interested in things like this, but this was almost to the point where he would talk about in almost every conversation. I am in no way fit or skinny, but I've been working on my body confidence and I truly believe that I have made genuine progress with how I view myself. (For context, I have genetic leg /knee issues and it makes if hard for me to live my day to day life. I have a condition where I have knocked knees and I no longer have a ligament holding my knee cap in place (left knee) This has caused a lot of discomfort in my life, from having multiple doctors appointments a month, walking on crutches, and having a surgery to remove shards of cartilage that had been floating around in my knee. This upcoming summer, mid June to be specific, I am having a major surgery, which will have me predominantly stuck in bed for around a month and a half, this has been hitting me hard because I have a fear of not being useful. I feel like that might have influence over my emotions or how I act.) I started realizing how he was changing when he kept suggesting to me that I should start working out and getting in shape. I wouldn't mind doing that but because I have a condition that prevents me from being able to fully experience working out, I don't think that I would be able to do that. I told him multiple times that I wasn't comfortable with talking about me doing that stuff and that I would appreciate it if he would maybe consider not talking about that stuff as often around me. He did for a bit but then it continued happening. Another thing to note is that I had hosted a game night between him, another mutual friend, and my sister and me. I wanted to prank him and catch him off guard, and I had a mini water gun, so I followed him into the kitchen as quietly as possible, and started squirting him with water. He turned around, speeded up to me, and grabbed my hand harshly, trying to get the water gun out of it. I kept saying "Ow" and kept asking him to let go. This whole ordeal lasted around 4 seconds but I was terrified, so it seemed like much longer to me. After he let go of my hand, I almost started crying and I went to go get something from the freezer for mand because it was in pain. All he said was sorry and that he did a form of martial arts and was taught how to disarm someone with a gun. Both the friend, and especially my sister told him that if I said no, he should have stopped right then and there. I was quiet the rest of the night and just separated myself from everyone else. We recovered from that but more happened. He has recently started saying more and more misogynistic and sexist comments and behaviors. I don't recall all of them but I do remember some of them. One that I think is incredibly important is when a mutual friend of ours told him that she likes him. He didn't really react to this and would ignore her when she texted or tried to communicate with him. She has a pretty fragile mental state and I knew how much this could affect her. I told him that not talking to her about it and ignoring her was a dick move and that it was really mean and that he was completely disregarding her feelings and that this was really going to affect her. He didn't really care and I left it alone. He ended up telling her that he would be open to dating in highschool. He has also said that if someone is upset, it is their own fault and that they should be able to control how they feel. I was joking with another mutual friend of ours and he said/insinuated something along the lines of "Can't do that, you're a girl." What really hurt is that when he realized that I was upset with him, he found it amusing, he didn't even care. It feels like I have lost my brother and I want to know if I'm being unreasonable or not. Thank you for reading this far. AITA?

My first DC was in 2013, and I've attended since then. I'm well past the initial blast of overwhelm and feeling like a total n00b, but I've also plateaued a bit and feel like I need someone to help me focus my energy and gain more depth from my experience. It often feels like we're at summer camp, but that everyone else goes to the same school and knows each other and I go to the 'other' school and don't know anything that's happening.
Things I've done that feel worthwhile:

• Brought my team of 6 people for our first in-person hang since covid.
• Had team repeatedly attempt a large phone puzzle box CTF last year.
• QueerCon's BugCrowd sponsored pool party (2018?) was fantastic and validating.
• workshops (so hard to get tickets) were fantastic, and helped me level up on K8s and Wireshark.
• Lots of the standard Vegas non-gambling attractions: Omegamart, Ka, O, Akhab, Lost Art Distillery, Zach Bagans Haunted Museum, Penn & Teller
• Ended up at a small series of Lightning Talks off-premise
• Also wound up a a Goon suite party
• Met some amazing people by following friends to lunch.

Of course, I've wandered around to many talks, hung out in villages, and casually explored CTFs.
My day job is as a principal security engineer at a medium-sized non-profit. Since our team is small, I do a little bit of everything.
I feel, however, always like I'm doing it wrong and missing something. I'm ADHD enough that focusing on one thing is a bit difficult if I'm not 100% sure it's the right thing to dive into. Is there something else I can do? Should I be volunteering as a Goon? Should I dive hardcore into a CTF and do that all weekend? While I have a lot of experience in technology overall, I don't know if anything I've ever done merits submitting for a DC talk (maybe a village or lightning talk? I don't mind public speaking, but I want to have in-depth content!)? Should I organize the pool party I want to exist? How can I best support the community?
Better yet; what have you done that took your DC experience up a notch?

(TLDR onderaan)
Ik had vandaag mijn eerste afspraak bij een therapeut die ik gecontacteerd had ivm verwijzing voor medische genderzorg. Tijdens dit kennismakingsgesprek vertelde zij me dat hun normale "protocol" voor dat soort dingen een begeleiding van 12 maanden zou zijn met maandelijkse afspraken, meestal dus terwijl de patient op een wachtlijst staat. Omdat ik ondertussen al een tijd hormoontherapie doe en de arts die mijn bloedtesten doet voorgesteld had een afspraak voor mij te maken bij een endocrinoloog zou mijn traject anders kunnen verlopen en zei ze dat als ik een eerdere afspraak heb, we daar naartoe kunnen werken ipv de volle 12 maanden te moeten doen. Ook is een deel van de dingen die ze zou moeten onderzoeken of bevragen niet meer relevant aangezien het gaat over de verwachtingen die ik zou hebben van hormoontherapie etc, dus is het om die reden waarschijnlijk ook niet nodig om zo een uitgebreid traject te hebben. Ik vind dit allemaal perfect logsich klinken, maar ik hoorde van andere mensen dat ze na "enkele" sessies al een verwijsbrief kregen, zoals 3 of 5 sessies. Ik vraag me dus af of dit normaal is of niet aangezien ik er ook allemaal zelf voor betaal en dit wel een redelijke som geld kan schelen.
Omdat ik dus al bezig ben met hormonen en eventueel al eerder een afspraak kan krijgen bij een endocrinoloog, is een verwijzing voor chirurgie (meer specifiek mastectomie) mijn focus op dit moment. Is het mogelijk de chirurg (buiten genderteam) al te contacteren om een consultatie vast te leggen voor ik beschik over een verwijsbrief?
TL;DR: Hoeveel sessies/ hoe lang duurde het bij een therapeut voor je verwijzing kreeg voor endocrinologie en/of chirurgie?

I think its similar to like « fake it till you make it »
I remember when I was 19, I joined a group of news friends and I did the biggest lie I ever done.
Just to impress them and to be part of the group I told them I was studying in one of the best design school of the world. Of course it was totally false. At this time I was doing nothing and I was secretly dreaming of joining this university. And I had no degree or resources to join it. I lied so much I finally wanted to know everything about this school to lie better, I met some students who were studying in it and they became my new friends.
During this period I was feeling extremely anxious because I was making a big lie to my other friends. Like imagine lying something that big its totally delusional and not very ethical. This was a period where I was very anxious.
Surprisingly, the students of the school I wanted to attend appreciated me and helped me to be accepted in this school. It’s like the Harvard of design and art in Europe, very very hard to enter. Without their help I wouldn’t have been able to join it.
And yeah 4 years later I finally joined this school after lying a lot. I think I lied to the point I programmed my brain I was already a student there and was doing some studies in it. It was a painful process but it worked very well.
And I think it was a form of manifestations and it worked. My studies there were without any doubt probably the best moment of my life.
I just realized I should lie to myself (and maybe to others) that I have a wife and kids and I’m very successful in everything I do.
Anyone experienced something similar?
I found an interesting link about this concept :
https://thought.is/this-is-how-lying-can-actually-make-you-successful/

I 46M treated the love of my life terribly 45F. How can I fix this?
I met an amazing woman. She is incredibly beautiful, sexy, successful, smart, artistic, fun, laid back, had a beautiful home that she awesomely decorated with her art and cool pieces, took care of her elderly neighbor, had a great paying job that she earned after college, was a sweet friend, so healthy, cooked, cleaned, a perfect natural body AND she fell in love with me.
ME. I didn’t even have a job when I met her. I got one right away but I lied to her. I lied about how I was mentally ill, I lied about how I fall apart easily and can’t hold jobs. I barely have friends, hobbies, interests. All I do is go to the gym. But she was naive out of a decade long relationship and took me for face value. I wanted to be better for her but I didn’t believe I deserved her deep down. So, I found ways to fight with her. I yelled at her, I ran away from her, blocked her, hung up on her, cursed at her, called her names. She still tried, confused and hurt how I could betray this true love she had thought she found. She helped me with my job, with my place to live, she even took me in when my loser self didn’t have an apartment lined up in time. She took me in without asking for anything. And I kept lying, manipulating, deceiving her on how sick I was. I blamed her and twisted narratives to get away from the shame of losing my shit and not being able to control my emotions.
She ended it. And then I raged. I came to her home and busted her front door, I emailed her all day and night how much I hated her, I threatened her job and emailed them trying to get her fired. I never said sorry. I called her old, told her I had better and younger women than her lined up for me, I called her a h white, pathetic loser, that I’d fuck her daughter in her mouth and try and fuck her daughter. I raged and raged. I was a hypocrite and contradictory and accused her of everything I did myself. I projected it all onto her. I turned her into the villain and said that she was an ugly person on the inside. But I am. She isn’t.
She pressed charges and for two years I fought her on it. I tried to go after the elderly neighbor who was a witness, I subpoenaed her daughter and her ex to threaten her more. I fired all my lawyers and represented myself. I obsessed for two years denying responsibility. I lost. I’m ordered to pay her for damages. I lose my job, my apartment, my two friends, I have nobody. I am nobody. I completely lost her. I lost true love.

Greetings from Castle Goring,
Lady C, did you hear the scathing rebuke of Meghan by the First Lady of Nigeria as being a trendsetter and as being part Nigerian? Do you think this was done as a bid to save face with the King or do you think she really was chastising Meghan because she said the beautiful woman of Nigeria should not be “parading around half naked.” Yes, this has been a hot topic in the last few days. Recall I already told you that Meghan’s conduct in Nigeria had gone down like a lead balloon. I understand most woman in Nigeria did not like Meghan’s conduct when she was in Nigeria. Meghan disrespects traditions. She sets out to undermine values. She likes causing trouble. This was a blessing in disguise. Lets see how many other countries welcome Meghan and Harry. I was told the ladies of Nigeria said she dressed like a slut and acted like a whore. Traditional values require modesty. Meghan lit a match with the younger generation. They want to dress more provocatively. The First Lady of Nigeria was giving a speech on how they have to save the younger generation. That is why she brought up Meghan. The First Lady of Nigeria said, “We see the way they dress. We are not having the met gala. The nakedness is everywhere. And the men are well clothed. We do not accept nakedness in our culture. That is not beautiful at all. They do not want to emulate film stars from America. Why did Meghan come here looking for Africa? We do not want to lose who we are.” Meghan was the only person she mentioned. Meghan is the only person who was dressed semi-nude. You could interpret her comments to say that Meghan came to connect with her roots and she should be able to see the Nigerian woman clothed appropriately. In my opinion, she was clearly referring to two groups of women. The woman of Nigeria who dress appropriately and the other women who dress semi-clothed, which is what Meghan was doing. The First Lady of Nigeria is powerful in her own right. She is a Senator and also married to the President. She was clearly sending a message that you do not show up in Nigeria dressed like a B*tch in heat.
Lady C, I can’t help but believe the conspiracy theories about the Princess of Wales. The conspiracy theories are preposterous. They provide content for those who otherwise need to fill their pages. Remember all those conspiracy theories about Princess Charlene of Monacco? She was seen just last weekend and looked very well. I have insight into what Catherine is going through and what she wants. She wants to be left in peace while she battles for her health. We need to leave her with her dignity and self respect. She does not want pity. We need to give her break and give her the time she needs so she can return to work on her own terms. I have been told she has lost a lot of weight and has the terrible side effects of chemotherapy. They are trying to be positive and harmonious as possible. They have three children to consider as well. Meghan is trying to steal the spotlight, but Catherine is only focused on herself and her family. I will not predict how long she will be out.
Lady C, I think King Charles is spineless. He allowed his son and the wife to slither in and foist invisikids on us. If he can’t remove the titles, I am going to become a Republican. I have tried to point out that the King cannot strip Harry’s peerage. If the peerage and Harry’s princely rank cannot be stripped at the same time, it would invite a whole new set of problems. With all the problems going on in the government, I am glad we have a globally respected head of state.
Lady C, The King’s indifference to The Harkle’s BS is working. According to Sun Tzu in “Art of War,” “He will win when he knows when to fight and when not to fight.” This is right. The King will fight his battles only when he knows he will win.
Lady C, in Spare, Harry discussed having his guns fixed on his fathers car from a helicopter. Isn’t this treason? No. Charles wasn’t King yet and it is not treason to imagine a crime. That is stuff straight from Henry VIII time. What Harry really did was show us was a crazy, mad, druggie he is.
Lady C, you said something was going to happen at Easter. The comments you have been giving us are general and uncoordinated. The impression you were giving us is that it would be one event. I am sure we were all expecting some kind of announcement. Yes, I said H&M would get their comeuppance. Another viewer wrote in and said that, “6 years ago, they were globally respected and at the top. Today, they are despised in the UK, maligned around the world, and ostracized. Their charity Archewell is not taking in donations, and Meghan now wants to sell jam. The only thing they have that is positive is Invictus, and with Meghan’s involvement, that is now going down the drain.” Harry and Meghan are self-destructing before our very eyes. Despite the mainstream media turning a blind eye, look at the tear down by the First Lady of Nigeria. And if Meghan is not completely humiliated by this, then Meghan is not even a human being. The reason why people think M&H have not been getting their comeuppance is because there hasn’t been one big knockout. The groundwork has been laid. Some of the groundwork has been laid by my book to ask questions and clear up mysteries. If you want to have answers, I would demand them from the Royal Family. Let them know you demand certain answers. If I misled you to think H&M would receive a total eradication, then I apologize. If you want them eradicated, there must be a groundswell from the public, demanding answers. Call them out on each and every thing. Use your voice on social media. I try to provide you insight, but it is not realistic to expect a cataclysmic event.
Toodles Sinners

My best friend from high school and I have drifted apart over the years, mostly due to her dating and later marrying my abusive ex. But I still love her immensely, and made her a crocheted afghan for her daughter the last time we met in person. If she ever needs me, I'll be there in a heartbeat.
When I got married, I asked her to be a bridesmaid. She said my ex wouldn't allow it unless I apologized to him. I have done nothing to apologize for. The only hurt I ever caused him was breaking up with him, and I told her as much and asked why she would want me to apologize for that since, if I hadn't broken up with him, she wouldn't be dating him. She had no answer for that, and just said he wouldn't let her come. We've only spoken once in person since then, years later, which is when I gave her the blanket for her daughter. I do get occasional updates from mutual friends, but he won't allow her to contact me. Despite the fact that he still stalks me online (I live on the other side of the country, so the in-person stalking has stopped).
Fast forward a few years to my baby sister getting married. At her reception, she displayed a quilt along with a few other gifts of similar hand-made sentimental value. I asked who the quilt was from, as it was lovely and obviously took time and skill to make. She was cagey and tried changing the topic before suddenly having an "emergency" she needed to see to (no actual emergency, she almost immediately stopped to chat with someone else).
A while later, the truth came out. The quilt was made by my best friend's mom. I found it a bit strange she would give one to my baby sister, as they weren't close, especially since I hadn't even received one, and I practically lived at her house for 5 years. Come to find out she had entrusted it to my mom and sister to give me for my wedding.
Mom is now saying she tried to give me the quilt, but I had turned it down because I hated the color scheme.
First off, no. I had never seen the quilt before in my life, until it showed up on display at my baby sister's wedding.
Second, while the color scheme is not my favorite... it matches the wallpaper in the tiny bedroom I had my senior year of high school. A room my BF's mom knew well and had photos of. And it is a color scheme I like, even if not my absolute favorite, and a more gender-neutral one than my absolute favorite. So ideal for a married couple.
Third, it's the same color scheme as another quilt of mine which has also gone "missing" since my mom and sister helped me move college apartments many years ago. A small, not-quite-twin sized quilt made by my grandmother shortly before she died. Which now leaves me wondering if I'll find that one in her home as well, if I ever flew out to visit unexpectedly.
And fourth, even if I had disliked the color - which I don't! - I would never have been so rude as to turn down something so precious as a quilt! Those things are works of art! Even the most basic quilt is expensive and labor-intensive. One made by a quilter of her caliber is a treasure. Not to mention the sentimental nature of a gift from someone who got a first row seat to watch me grow from young teen to adulthood. I don't care if the quilt had been chartreuse and fuschia (it was cream, forest green, and maroon, btw), I would have loved it anyway, because it was a gift from someone I respect and admire.
I'm not sure which hurts more: the theft itself, the gaslighting, or them making my best friend's mom feel like I refused her generous, loving gift. And at this point, living so far away from everyone involved, I'm not sure I can straighten things out, even if everyone else wanted to.

Hello, I'm looking for a game from my childhood:)
Platform(s): PC, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was also available on console
Genre: Point and click, mystery, a lot of dialogue?
Estimated year of release: I have no idea, I think that I played it around 2012 and it looked good enough for young me to consider it as something freshly published. Maybe 2008, 2009?
Graphics/art style: First person, realistic 3d, colors were dark and muddy
Notable characters: You played as some (british?) man, who found himself in some small victorian town and had background in mysteries or medicine (not sure which one). There was a time when you were walking on some hill (in that location colors were bright, a lot of yellows and oranges) and you met a young boy with some knowledge about coffin.
Other details: I'm pretty sure that the whole story was about vampire since I remember that one of the first locations was similar to medical clinic (it was night, a lot of blue colors inside and greenish and yellow lights outside) and there was some talk about blood and then there was mystery about some weird coffin. Although it's notable that I don't remember the final scene and If we even met a vampire, maybe it was just something similar to it, since before that there wasn't any supernatural elements.
It was subbed and dubbed in Polish, not sure in which language was the original version.
https://preview.redd.it/zy425lyiq83d1.jpg?width=3508&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=fe5f5316f9d1765231cefe34a14df98dd7daa226
https://preview.redd.it/bq6aq9d7o83d1.jpg?width=3508&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=40f29bbe841e6eb33de438d2fdd5aad46614045d