Couple hand print painting ideas

I invested in several reformation pieces a couple years back. I typically source vintage clothing in timeless styles because the quality is superior to any modern day label, they have stood the test of time and they continue to thrive as years go by.
First impressions were underwhelming. I could immediately feel that the quality was similar to any other fast fashion brand I've experienced but I thought perhaps it would last longer.
I wore the jeans a handful of times, I never grew fond of the fit but I missed the return window. They are holding up fine.
The tops however were all trash.
I purchased a bodysuit I wanted for a long time and I never had a chance to wear it, one year later I put it on and the entire bust split right open on a very clean pre ise line.... I wasn't tugging at all it just split in two. There goes that.
The Kourtney top was cute but I never reached for it... It pilled just sitting in my closet o kid you not. I finally decided to resale it the other day and freshen it up with a clothing shaver and it immediately caused a hole on the sleeve lol ... There goes that all because it looked old and worn just sitting inh closet.
The Delia Top has held up nice with a few hand washes and still looks great but I am extremely careful with it, I would never handle it like some of my other clothing and I am counting the days when it just falls apart.
Dresses.... Forget it... I've seen better quality from Amazon and that says a lot.
Conclusion is I would never purchase reformation directly by brand new. I like the style and I love their mission but their quality is low. If I ever do purchase a reformation label again it will definitely be highly discounted because it doesn't last.
Vintage clothing is superior in my opinion to all modern labels with exception of Doen... Sezane is even starting to lack in quality and is moving in pretty close to that fast fashion quality lately ..
What are your thoughts and experiences with reformation? Is this the norm for the rest of you or did I just happen to purchase a bad batch lol.

Foreword: Hi everyone! Be warned that this post was made by someone who A) hasn't done any creative writing outside of mandatory school work and B) has english as their second language Any and all criticism is welcome. Hope you'll like the piece!
The Captain didn't like the assignment when his superiors gave it to him. He started to dislike it even more when his RWR started beeping just after his ship started a retrograde burn to orbit this strange new world. He started disliking it even more when this planet's inhabitants, the Humans, he recalled from his briefing, seemingly started to redirect their artificial satellites to intercept his ship.
He commands the IS Poltergeist, a Ghost class Signal Intelligence vessel. Essentially a small freighter that, instead of cargo, carries an assortment of the best and most sensitive electronic intelligence gathering equipment that money could buy this side of the Milky way. Their task is to monitor the Human's planet, Earth, for any actionable intelligence and, more importantly, to make sure that nothing gets to the rest of the fleet parked in geosynchronous orbit of this Earth's moon without them knowing. The biggest plus is that you usually get to stay away far from the fighting, however, when things get tough, you can rely only on your speed and maneuverability because the ship doesn't have any PD, and since they were already low on fuel and had to do a whole lot of dodging on top of that, they were essentially helpless
The small Imperial fleet numbering less than half a dozen vessels arrived in the system 2 weeks ago after an explorer vessel reported that it found out signs of intelligent life in the system. The commander of this expedition was a young Prince of a small kingdom integrated within the Imperium determined to prove himself as a warrior and as most, if not all, of his kind was rash and hot headed. He decided that a planetary raid was the best course of action, against the advice of every senior officer in the fleet. He led his men personally to the surface. The raid ended after about a day on the surface, when an artillery shell landed about 5 meters from the Prince's tent and heavily wounded him. The Prince's second in command ordered immediate evacuation. They left behind nearly 200 dead and brought with them about 400 wounded. The Captain was glad that he and his crew got to sit that one out. He knew that a lightly armed marine raiding force going against a proper ground combat element wouldn't end nice. Now they were stuck in the system because the doctors didn't want to risk killing the half dead Prince by travelling in FTL and because the insolence of attacking an Imperial aristocrat had to be punished...
Lieutenant Clark, like everybody on Earth, was gripped by a mix of shock and excitement when it was revealed that an alien fleet was confirmed to be en route to his home planet. When the Aliens made planetfall and started killing people, all those feeling turned to anger, even if they landed far away from Clark's homeland. The Aliens swiftly started to evacuate once the local military started to rain hell on the Alien HQ, courtesy of their big guns. Some of the evacuating Alien transports were then shot down by either air defense batteries or fighter jets. Once the dust has settled, people far smarter than Clark were quickly able to decipher the Alien language enough to understand that the force they fought of was only a relatively small raiding party and that the Aliens would be back. In that moment, the entire world mobilized, and that included the transfer of lieutenant Clark to an experimental fighter wing.
As it turns out, the goverment procured a small number of anti-satellite missiles in the 1980s. The project was publicly scraped because of cost overruns and the ethics of leaving behind giant clouds of space debris with every weapon test, however the idea was never completely thrown out the window, and a new and improved missile had it's first few prototypes completed just a few months before the Aliens came. Someone thought that the Aliens would easily detect and shoot down a big ICBM launching at them, and so they decided that something smaller, like a stealth fighter jet armed with this new missile would more easily evade radar detection and interception. And lieutenant Clark was the person to fire this new missile when they came back. The theory is simple; pre-programm the target into the missile on the ground, initiate a steep zoom climb while aiming roughly at the target and the missile will automatically launch at an altitude of around 12 kilometers. Turning that theory into practice meant spending about 10 hours every day on simulator so that Clark and his colleagues would get the procedure right every time they tried.
When the space agencies of the world detected a lone Alien ship burning to orbit Earth, they aimed practically every radar they could on it. World leaders already decided on a course of action, they ordered satellites on orbits near the Alien vessel to crash into it. The Aliens dogded, but didn't defend themselves in any other way, which was seen as a good sign. When no attempts at communication were detected from the ship, the order to shoot it down was given.
"Lieutenant Clark to briefing room 4!" the voice sounded on the base's public announcement system. Clark knew it was his moment to shine. The plan was what they rehearsed a hundred times over the course of the last few days. Clark with his stealth jet would fire the anti-satellite missile, while two other planes would provide jamming support so that any attempt to intercept the missile wouldn't succeed. They would be doing this over the ocean, so they would be accompanied by an AWACS so that command would know what's happening. Before the pilots left the room, their aircraft were fueled and ready and Clark's missile already knew it's target.
The Captain was nervous, but he knew he couldn't show it to his small crew. It was only him, his XO, the pilot, the radar operator, three SIGINT gathering operators and an agent from the Imperial Intelligence Agency, from the First Contact Detachment. He didn't like spies, even if they didn't call themselves that, because they usually meant trouble, and this time was no different. He walked to the pilot's console and saw that their fuel reserves were dangerously low, and the Humans haven't stopped trying to intercept them with their satellites. He saw the RWR indicator light still flashing, however they turned off the sound long ago, would have turned crazy already if they didn't. They periodically deployed chaff, but it was essentially useless against having every radar capable of it turned on them. He then glanced at the map showing their orbit relative to the surface, seeing that they were just entering space above an ocean.
"Contact!" shouted the radar operator. "Two unkown contacts coming up from the surface. They are getting stronger, marking as Bogey one and two." The Captain looked at the radar screen with dread as, at first, the two bogeys were marked as weak signals, then strong, and then, what can be only described as a sea of new contacts of different sizes, strenghts and types, flooded the screen. "All men to battle stations! Seal your vac-suits!" screamed the Captain across the cockpit. Everyone, with the exception of the agent, who rarely found himself on a ship, knew that they were being jammed and what that meant. "Pilot, prepare maneuvering thrusters and deploy chaff!" ordered the Captain, focusing his sight on the radar screen. He knew that once the enemy weapon was close enough, their radar would burn through the jamming and they would be able, the universe willing, to dodge it.
"New artificial satellite on collision course, marking as SAT-37." said the radar operator. The pilot looked at his console and then at the Captain. "Permission to dogde?" he said, his voice shaking. He saw that with the amount of fuel they had, they either dodge the satellite, or the enemy weapon. The Captain looked at the map of the planetary system. He reckoned that if they dodged, they would need to orbit this Earth for another 40 minutes before they would be able to do what the Humans would call a Trans-Lunar injection and join the rest of the fleet, with the amount of fuel they had. "Permission granted" the Captain calmly answered. He would rather die to an enemy than to a bunch of scrap metal.
"Jester lead to all flights, initiating jamming, the field is your's Devil. Jester lead out." "Understood, Jester lead. Devil out." said lieutenant Clark. He pulled the plane's joystick towards himself, putting the aircraft into a steep climb. The attack was timed flawlessly. They managed to aim another satellite at the Alien ship, meaning they will be busy dodging it and not the missile. He had the ship's position marked on his helmet's HUD, now it was only a matter of keeping it in his plane's gunsight long enough for the missile to fire. Clark now experienced the tiniest bit of doubt; will the single missile be enough? Enough to show them that they aren't untouchable, he thought. Seeing just a small piece of debris from the Alien ship fall to the Earth would be a huge morale boost to everyone, and Clark didn't doubt the power of motivation. At 39 000 feet, the missile launched automatically, and Clark let his plane first level off, and then descent. His comrades from Jester flight will need to continue to climb for a little while longer, to support the missile with jamming.
Just before the missile launched, it activated it's infrared seeker. It started to scan with this "eye" around the area where it expected it's target. It found it with the Ghost class's large aft radiators, designed to dissipate heat from the expansive electronic and computer systems found onboard. It momentarily considered locking onto the satellite thrown at the ship, however the flight computer chose the bigger and hotter target. About 10 kilometers out, it detached it's warhead, an 18 kilogram tungsten slug travelling at a speed of 6,6 kilometers per second. About 2 seconds later, the projectile hit it's mark. The Poltergeist's light armor gave way, and the slug penetrated the whole ship through and through. Unfortunately for the ship, it penetrated one of the fuel tanks with some fuel in it. The hole, acting as a makeshift thruster, started squirting fuel out of it and putting the ship into a spin while also slowing it down. This was prominent enough that the ship got put on a lower orbit, meaning that the increased drag from the atmosphere would aerobrake the ship little by little, until it deorbited.
When the contact corresponding to the enemy missile appeared on the radar scream, the only thing on the Captain's mind was shouting: "Brace for impact!" The Human missile hit the Poltergeist about 3 seconds later, and put the ship into a noticable and immediate spin. "Damage report!" shouted the XO. The pilot looked at his damage control instruments and replied: "Aft radiators hit, looks like it went all the through, we're leaking air and fuel into the void, 3 out of 8 aft maneuvering thrusters not responding, we lost a lot of the intelligence gathering equipment. We're also heavily spinning. The flight computer just updated our orbit. Looks like we'll deorbit in about 4 orbits." The Captain, shaken but happy that they just didn't die there and then, spoke: "Abandon ship, get to the escape pod, we're done here." The crew then went through the procedure of destroying code books and any and all classified material. The Intelligence Agency agent, seemingly a big patriot, protested the abandonment of the ship and said that they couldn't do that to the injured Prince. He shut up when the XO told him he can stay behind and burn up in the atmosphere when the ship deorbits in a couple of hours. Once everyone was in the escape pod, luckily they had a variant able to survive atmospheric entry, they launched towards Earth. They landed in the ocean and were found by a military vessel. They had to be guarded and kept in isolation because a lot of the sailors "just wanted to ask questions".
On his way home lieutenant Clark had to be refueled by a tanker aircraft. When he landed and parked his aircraft, he got surrounded by a crowd of cheering aircrew and base personnel. The sergeant helping him out of his plane spoke to him: "That was one for the history books, sir!" "Agreed, sergeant, agreed." He even saw someone walking to his plane with a bucket of paint and a stencil of a stereotypical UFO. Clark managed to get a medal and be promoted to Captain because of the whole ordeal. Most importanly for him, his callsign changed to the callsign of his solo flight: Devil. Because only the Devil could take a fight with an Alien ship and walk away unscathed.

My DE started about 18 months ago. Having never had anything close to this before I had no clue what was happening. Very bad itching on hands spread to face, ears, and torso as It got worse. Many sleepless nights trying to make it through the itching. Some lotion from a friend helped me get through this first event. One of the items was a steroid creme and wool wax creme. They had been through something similar. This same thing occurred about a month later with worse symptoms. Similar method of treating it helped but not as much as before. This continued pretty much constant though varying degrees for a couple months. This led me to see a dermatologist who diagnosed it quickly as Dyshidrosis Eczema. They prescribed Clobetasol (100$ a tube!). But it didn't really do much. By this point I was using Wool Wax creme to help with the dry hands. It did help with the dry skin during the "calming down" stage of DE. I returned to tbt dermatologist to seek more help but got no suggestions that would lead to why this happeneded. Again another event with this a few months later in the Fall. This latest through December. When it reoccurred by this spring I finally called an allergy doctor. The 62 pin test showed no surprises for me. Trees, grass, weeds, mold, dust all were positive. But this couldn't be it. Allergies with those had always bothered me but the symptoms had changed. So we did the patch test. The one result from that which caught my eye was a contact allergy to cobalt which can be found in some supplements. This caused me to look at a nature made multi vitamin that has vitamin B12 in it. The vitamin B12 is as Cyanocobalamin which has cobalt dichloride. Now it isn't cobalt chloride which is what the paper from the doctor says can be one variant that is a contact allergy for me. After a phone conversation with them I have decided to stop taking it and see if it returns or not. I didn't think of the supplements as a source of this problem and probably wouldn't have gotten here this fast without the patch test.
Hopefully my experience helps some others in some way. And I am not one to go to the doctor all the time. It took this extremely wierd thing for me to go to this extent. You never know what it could be.

Hey y'all. I teach sushi classes all over the southeast and have been doing so for 11 years (7 of them as a full-time job). I'm incredibly busy, teaching in public as well as doing in-home classes, corporate events, sorority classes and even teaching at universities (including three SEC schools.)
Here's my question:
I'm looking into putting a plan together to train sushi chefs on how to teach my exact class in other parts of the country. This isn't something that just anyone can do; you'd need to not only have a pretty well-rounded knowledge of sushi making, but also (the most important part) be able to stand in front of 30 strangers and teach them the class without having stage fright or being nervous. Having the confidence to be able to answer random questions thrown out by students is also a plus, although the class itself has been designed (over those 11 years) to answer what they care about and leave out the things that they have no interest in. This has taken all of those years to hone down into the perfect 2 hour class, and should be fairly easy for anyone to learn to teach, as it would mostly be memorization. For instance; if you walked into my class at 7:05 pm three nights in a row, I'd be saying the same thing each time.
My idea is to handle everything except the teaching of the class myself, and all my chefs would be responsible for is buying their proteins and veg (tuna & crabstick + cucumbers typically) and showing up to teach the class. This would be a great way for a chef working for a weekly paycheck to teach a couple classes a month on a weeknight & make $600 for each full class. I've already got a system in place for finding the space to hold the classes, generating ticket sales and a "script" for the class that is a sure fire way to make a group of strangers want to be your very best friend by the end of class. There's humor, hands-on rolling, and lots of learning involved in the class.
I have incredible reviews and the reactions of my students to making their own perfect sushi rolls is the best part of what I do. I have made dozens of friends over the years; been invited to their beach houses, weddings, parties and generally have had a fucking blast while doing something I love.
I'm just now putting a packet together. There will be no cost to start up, but I will be taking a portion of the ticket sales (which will not affect your ability to make $600 if we have a sold out class) for providing the space + the training materials, generating sales, and promotion. We would of course include an NDA and a time-limit non-compete for our chefs, but in the end you'd have an option to teach up to 2 classes per month on weeknights and add up to $1200 to your monthly income.
Constructive thoughts and questions are of course appreciated. I am a pretty good sushi chef, but I'm a great teacher and this formula is proven to work.....I just can't be in 7 places at once!
Thanks for your time ~

Hi, I am planning to get a new car in a couple weeks; it is a GR Corolla that comes with a bare carbon fiber roof. Its predecessor, the GR Yaris, had a carbon fiber roof as well, but was protected from the sun by a factory-installed wrap.
I plan on installing some kind of paint protection on the rest of the car, either a wrap or PPF, depending on how I like the color. But on the roof UV protection is my main concern, so I was just wondering what my best option might be?

Since we never see roundabout in prison with the rest of the vile faculty what do you think happened to him? Here are a couple of my theories.
Theory 1: Roundabout flipped on the rest of vile as payback for being locked in the dungeon and is now working for acme as an informant while also secretly using acme resources to fund vile activities.
Theory 2: Roundabout was handed over to British authorities and he was executed for treason.
Theory 3: Roundabout is in protective custody since he's former law enforcement.

A heavy mist settled on the cemetery, just as it always had when we were children. Thwack! I ran straight into another headstone and fell into the mud, breathless. Scrambling to my feet, I looked behind me, hoping that whatever was chasing me had gone off somewhere else.
It was a mistake to come back to Endeavor for my 25 year reunion. I swore I’d never step foot in this town again, with its three block main street where everyone was either a drunk, an abuser, or a holier-than-the saints-themselves wannabe street preacher, or some combination of all of the above.
How the hell do I get out of this cemetery?
I’d gotten drunk, but not so drunk that I shouldn’t have been able to find my way out, even in this heavy mist. It descended as soon as we kicked over Mr. Grantz’ headstone, that old, blustering asshole. He deserved some sort of retribution after the shit he put kids through for decades in this town. He was Mister Evangelical himself, somehow granted the right to stuff his convoluted ideologies on us in the place of an actual science education.
After we turned a bit tipsy Derrick, Anne, Roger, and I decided to leave the bar that was hosting the reunion to stagger out to the cemetery one last time — pay homage to our old midnight refuge. What better way to relive our inglorious days?
Damn! I hit my knee on another headstone. I just wanted out, an escape from this hellhole. “I’ll go home and never bother this place again!” I shouted into the mist.
Derrick played football — still as skinny and probably at least half as fast as that knobby-elbowed teenager who was practically chased out of town for not scoring a winning touchdown to get us to state. Anne was the girl we were all in love with. She stayed in town and teaches history, or I'm sure as much actual history as she can get away with uttering aloud. Roger couldn’t do anything right, but could still get away with anything by his smile.
On June nights like this we’d always go hang out late at night drinking non-age-appropriate beverages at the Endeavor cemetery. It was about a half-mile walk on the train tracks from “town.” We’d all sneak out with our flashlights and walk there, sometimes solo, sometimes in pairs, and even then it sort of creeped me out to go it alone, walking on that path of lonesome steel between the walls of tall grass that swayed in the wind.
My alcohol tolerance had gone way down since I grew up and life stopped being about partying. Otherwise I would have been way too inhibited to let those old friends pry me back to the cemetery. Whose idea was this? It was Roger's ideas wasn't it?
The only good idea he had in his entire life is that we needed to get out of Endeavor.
Was I running in circles or something? I limped in a direction I believed had to be the way out. Tipsy, sure, but there’s no way I was drunk enough that I couldn’t find my way out of a small town cemetery.
In high school Roger has been spared, but the rest of us had been Mr. Grantz’ personal classroom punching bags, all because our families didn’t go to church, or didn’t go enough for Mr. Grantz’ liking. My heathen mother even had the gall to speak the word “evolution” in public once, so as far as the church folk were concerned (meaning nearly everyone) my family needed to be chased out of town.
Congratulations. Endeavor wasn't a paradise. It was a graveyard of aspiration.
So yeah, we stomped to the cemetery in the delirium of getting drunk together one last time in Endeavor after spending half our lives away from each other.
Derrick is the one who stumbled onto Mr. Grantz’ headstone. “Whoa!? That psychopath finally died. Hallelujah!” he yelled.
“Derrick!” Anne said, “I know you had your differences but that’s no reason to celebrate his passing. He was a human being.” She must have made her peace with the people of this town years ago. The rest of us did our real growing up once we got outside.
“Differences? Do you remember when I missed that touchdown, how it was because my family was unclean? He was the one who kept telling people we needed to go back to the old ways and they should burn me on a pyre for it. It was one bad play against a team of kids who were twice our size.” Derrick caught the wind in his throat, “It would be hard for me to mourn someone who wanted to kill a kid over a touchdown.”
“I gotta piss,” Roger said, smirking.
“No,” Anne said.
“See, even Roger wants to get this guy, and he wasn’t even one of Mr. Grantz’ targets.”
As they argued I swayed in the wind getting angrier and angrier remembering that old blowhard. Once, when I was having trouble sleeping, I fell to sleep on my desk in the middle of his science class, and he dropped a bowling ball on my desk to wake me up and “teach me a lesson.” It slid off the desk and landed on my foot breaking some small bones that never healed well and still bother me to this day.
“Let’s tip it over,” I said.
They all looked at me wide eyed, then grins spread over Derrick and Roger’s faces, devious in the moonlight.
“Hell yeah!” they agreed.
“You’re all going to hell for this,” Anne said, trying to stop them. But we were all already kicking at the marble headstone, trying to get it to budge from the Earth. My foot throbbed in that old familiar way, but this was worth it.
“Are you being serious, Anne? Are you a believer now? Don’t tell me this town got to you,” Derrick said.
“‘Got to me?’If that’s what you call growing up and getting over my youthful rebellious phase, then yes. Earl Grantz was a town hero. He only wanted the best for the people here and I can’t just let you desecrate his grave.”
Roger blocked Anne from stopping us while Derrick and I kept kicking the headstone. Hard and heavy, the thing didn’t want to budge. I got on its level and tried pushing it with my shoulder while Derrick kept kicking it.
After a minute I fell to the ground to rest.
Anne looked at me, “If you’re having a heart attack you deserve it. You don’t even know what will happen if you manage to knock that thing down. You don’t know what they’ll do.”
“Oh come on, I’m going to be out of this town for the rest of my life in about six hours. There’s nothing the community of Endeavor will be able to do to me ever again.”
“We’ll see about that,” she said.
I got back up and resumed kicking with Derrick who hadn’t stopped for a second. In fact, it was like he was getting stronger and stronger, maybe remembering more of Mr. Granz’ vitriolic outbursts. I could still see the old man with his white beard and loud, sharp face barrelling down at me for any perceived sleight.
“It’s starting to give,” Derrick said.
Then all at once, with one last kick the headstone cracked at its base and thudded over into the damp grass.
“Whoa, we did it.” Derrick took a step back.
We all stood there for a moment, struck by a kind of awe. That old man who had made things so hard for us in high school, he was really dead. He was dead in the ground and could never yell at us or throw bowling balls at us or set the entire town against us ever again. He was being eaten by worms. A sad meal. We’d survived him and this town.
I guess Anne was struck by a different kind of awe. Probably she was surprised at the audacity of her old friends, drunk and stupid in the cemetery. Whatever her feelings were, by the time I turned to look for her she’d already disappeared into the night.
We had a good laugh, the three of us, reunited for this taste of revenge. The headstone lay there in the barely tended grass and I thought of how pointless his attacks on us had been, the harassment, the ostracization, the constant preaching and withholding of an actual education — we were all doing fine to spite him. Derrick worked as head of sales at a sportswear company, I was the top non-profit tax whiz in my city, Roger had one of those vague program manager positions at an even more vague start-up gone big, and we all had families waiting for us at home. "Here lies a failure in life and death" is what the headstone should have read.
That’s when we heard it, a placeless whispering descended onto the cemetery.
It was as if the wind was made of barely audible voices, speaking in rolling anger that went on and on. And with it a dark mist fell on us.
“What the —” Roger said.
“It’s just the mist playing tricks on us, an auditory illusion,” Derrick said.
But up the back of my spine a tingling sensation had already started to warn me that something insidious was happening. Even when we were children, we’d joked about how the mist in the cemetery felt unnatural, but now it came on twice as quickly and it was twice as thick. I could barely see the others. “We should start making it back to our cars," I said.
"I don't remember the fog ever being this bad," Derrick said.
"We had actual flashlights with us. That might have made a difference," I offered. We only had the flashlights on our phones, and as the moments passed the mist deepened until they were nearly useless.
"Climate change," Roger said.
"Don't tell that one to Mr. Grantz," I said.
Laughing, Derrick stumbled on a small divet in the ground, rolling onto his back. I think he saw something then. I can’t say for sure, but as I looked down at him, my mind still blurred by the alcohol, I saw a serious fear drawn over his eyes, stifling his laughter. For a moment his lip quivered before he let out a scream that was swallowed by the thick country air. A column of mist poured into his mouth. It might have been the shock, but I thought in the mist I saw a torrent of pale hands forcing their way down his throat.
Derrick’s body convulsed. He shook harder and harder until the attack ceased and he sank, limp, into the ground.
“Help!” Roger screamed as he was pulled into the mist by something I couldn’t see.
I didn’t wait a moment longer. I didn’t try to stay and help my friends or check to see if Derrick was still alive. I bolted. Whatever that was in the mist, if I could put some distance between myself and it, maybe I could get out of this cemetery, follow the traintracks back to town, get back into my Honda Civic and drive away from this godforsaken town.
The mumbling whispers grew louder behind me, but I didn’t dare look. I’d give anything just to make it out of this cemetery. This was a stupid night. I never should have come back, but I wasn’t going to let this drunken mistake leave my children to grow up without a father.
Sorry Derrick, I thought. Sorry Roger. And, what in the hell happened to Anne? What was it she said, we didn’t know what they’ll do? Is that what’s happening now?
I ran until my lungs burned, bumping into headstones left and right. This place wasn’t a labyrinth. How was it that I hadn’t gotten out of it by now? The cemetery couldn’t be bigger than a couple few city blocks. Hardly anyone lived in Endeavor to begin with. It didn’t take much space to house their dead. How many of these people have been completely forgotten to time by now? How many of them were succeeded only by children like me, children who they chased out of town. How many of them had bigoted, evil hearts like Mr. Grantz?
My knee smacked on something hard, another headstone, and I cried out. I could hardly move anymore from all the bruises I’d just taken. But I limp-ran in desperation, my hurt leg skidding on the ground. The mist was close behind me. I could feel it wet on the back of my neck, but I knew I only needed to make it a little further.
An exposed tree root caught my foot and I tumbled to the ground, my head knocking against something hard. I frantically crawled back toward my feet but I kept falling back down. I wasn’t seeing straight. Why is this happening to me? I swore I’d never come back.
It was Anne that reached out to us all. She’d wanted to bring the old gang back together for the reunion. Over half the class had stayed in town after graduation, but the rest of us had left Endeavor, and from what I gathered none of us spared a look back. Why didn’t we ever think of how that would have felt for Anne? She didn’t have the same agency as the rest of us. Heck, her parents had threatened to pull her from school and homeschool her in their traditional way. Of course she ended up like this. We were her lifeline.
Damn it!
Every time I tried to get up I twisted some other muscle and collapsed back to the ground. I’d never put my body through something like this before, especially after the age of forty. I’d already been dreading the day-long hangover I saw in my future as we left the bar, but at this rate I’d be lucky to be able to walk — that is, if I even got out of this cemetery alive.
Anne had gone to the trouble of mailing us each nice, handwritten letters on stationary inviting us to the reunion. She wanted everyone to get together. It was incredibly thoughtful of her. Apparently she’d worked with all the others to make sure everyone else who’d abandoned Endeavor had an invitation. Of course, not everyone came, but most of the class made it.
We met at Freddy’s, an old country dive we’d never been able to get into before. In Endeavor everybody knows everybody, so there’s no sneaking into bars with a fake id.
I’d been in city dives, but Freddy’s was something else. It reminded me more of a barn where bats would live in the rafters than a bar — a big open space with tables strung about here and there, a pool table near the corner, dust counting the years on the floor. Just my guess, but I don’t think the owner knows what the flooring is made of, that’s how often it looked like it’d been cleaned. Still, it was nice coming back and seeing this part of Endeavor we’d always wondered about.
The folks that stayed in town welcomed us back in, but it was obvious there was a sort of familiarity and camaraderie among them that the rest of us would never have again — the kind of camaraderie that comes from spending forty years with the same small group of people, of having small town secrets and knowing all the things in a human life that can go unsaid.
It was Anne’s idea to go to the cemetery, wasn’t it?
She could tell we were all a bit uncomfortable and wanted to catch up more privately. As always, she was the sensitive person who could tell what we were all feeling and gave us direction. There was a time when I was young when I thought I’d grow up to marry her — funny to think of it now, that I pictured my life in Endeavor, of scraping out an existence in this place that now seemed so desolate, an isolated island away from everything that truly mattered to me. I’m sure Derrick and Roger felt like that too. Did Anne think about us like that? In her imagination, had she pictured the future with each of us, trying us on like coats, only to be abandoned in the end.
The mist had gotten so deep I couldn’t see where I was going, though I’d slowed to a crawl. My hand felt something cold and hard on the ground. I pulled myself close and I saw the inscription, “Here lies Earl Grantz.” After all that running I was back at Mr. Grantz’ headstone where I’d started.
I lifted myself to my feet and noticed two long shapes beside me on the ground. Derrick and Roger. My heart dropped. Something had dragged them back.
A cold hand grabbed onto my hair and pulled my head back. The mist poured into my open mouth like a thousand frozen beads of pain. I tried to scream, but it kept pouring into me as I collapsed to the damp dirt on my already bruised and skinned knees. Stop! Please, I can’t take any more! I wanted to beg. It kept going until I lost consciousness.
I awakened to the sun already high in the sky, my whole body throbbing with pain. Derrick was nudging me with his foot.
“Good,” he gasped, “we’re all alive then.”
“What? What just happened?” I asked.
He stood above me with Roger. Alive. Somehow after the events of last night we’d made it to the morning in the land of the living. I didn’t orphan my kids.
“I saw the mist get you, both of you. I ran, but I couldn’t escape the cemetery,” I said.
“All I know is that I’m getting out of here and I’m not looking back,” Roger said.
“I’m with ya.” Derrick helped me up to my feet.
Neither of them was as outwardly hurt as I knew I was. I could feel every scrape and bruise down to my bones, not to mention the hangover. “What about Anne?” I asked.
“No sign of her.”
Before we limped back to town I pulled out my cellphone to see the worried messages from my wife. She assumed I’d only gotten drunk and let my phone die. I sent her a selfie of my swollen face and said that last night hadn’t gone as planned, but I was on my way home — desperate to get out of godforsaken Endeavor — and would explain everything to her. How could I explain this? I can’t even explain it to myself.
I told the others about the events of last night after I’d lost them, and they nodded, listening. None of us had anything resembling a logical explanation.
My phone dinged with a message. “I’m glad you’re safe! I was so worried. But are you using some sort of filter? Your eyes are green in this picture.”

I like the first game. It's short, the gameplay is fun and the animation and soundtrack are amazing. But the sequel is an absolute disgrace.
Let's start with the biggest problem: the horrendous writing. Kyoko and Misako can be swapped out for other characters in the dialog, but the replacement characters reuse their lines, leading to a jumbled story where every main character thinks they're Kyoko and Misako. This also limits the dialog to 2 main characters, leaving the other 2 players in 4 player co-op with characters who don't say a word. The manga cutscenes are even worse, because they only show Kyoko and Misako, regardless of character choice. The last three cutscenes show the whole gang together, but they have no interactions by then. Too little, too late. Why couldn't every character be in the writing? It's not rocket science!
Next, the performance. Even after the framerate was fixed, the game still suffers from performance issues. For example, the loading times are still longer than those of the first game. Why did the game even launch with 30 FPS in the first place?
Now for the animation. The first game uses beautifully animated sequences to introduce the bosses, each one looking as if if was lifted straight from an anime. And guess what? The devs had the decency to hire Studio Yotta! The sequel doesn't have a dedicated studio for the animations. The result? Awful, choppy animation and backgrounds devoid of any scenery.
Moving on, the gameplay. Why were money drops delayed? In the first game enemies dropped money right away, but in the sequel, you have to wait for them to despawn before the money appears. I can't think of any possible reason for this change other than to keep you waiting for money drops. Wall jumping was slowed down, too. Did the devs think everyone who'd play this game would have reflexes so bad that they need more time to react while wall jumping? Some moves had a lot of end lag added; for example, Kunio's Eat. It has a fair amount of end lag in the first game, but in the sequel, he's left vulnerable for much longer, which seems completely unnecessary considering the move's short range and long startup time. I'm not sure if this counts as gameplay, but there's an added animation for transitions to other rooms. The animation may look fancy, but combine it with the loading times and it's frustrating as hell to get anywhere.
Then there are the side quests. I know RCG2 is supposed to be a little longer than the first game, but did there really have to be so many damn side quests? Most of them involve collecting items scattered around the entire game world. I've beaten the game once so far, and I'm still not even close to finishing said quests! Not because I wasn't looking, but because of how many items I haven't found yet!
Speaking of quests, let's talk about Honkr, the new quest log. Even though you can filter quests to see what's completed and what's in progress, Honkr is still a mess. It's extremely disorganized; the quests are written to look like social media posts and consequently take up too much space. The first game has a neatly organized checklist showing the quest names, but the devs thought it'd be a good idea to replace it with a Twitter parody, all because the sequel's pause menu was designed to look more like a smartphone.
Lastly, the ending, another example of the terrible writing. After you defeat Sabu, what do you get? The gang chilling on the couch back at Kyoko's house, with Kyoko and Misako finishing a video game and deciding to play it again. That's it. All we get in the finale we busted our asses to get to is a lousy joke about New Game+. It's the type of ending that screams "We ran out of ideas, so here's some crap we whipped up last minute!" Disgusting.
Speaking of endings, I should also mention that RCG2 lacks a secret boss and true ending. The first game has them both, but the devs decided not to include them in the sequel for whatever reason. All we get in RCG2 are a few secret areas with collectibles that unlock additional recruits, without contributing a thing to endgame. Big whoop!
In conclusion, RCG2 is a huge letdown. All its problems are evidence that the devs likely rushed it and put as little time and effort into it as possible. If we get a third game in the series, hopefully the devs address the problems with the last 2 games and avoid them while developing it. Though with a sequel this bad, I don't know if WayForward can be trusted with RCG3. It'd probably do better in the hands of another company, as long as the people there know how to handle it.

My boyfriend (22M) and I (22F) have been a couple for about half a year now after knowing each other for roughly two years. We live in different cities, about an hour's drive and see each other mostly on the weekends as we both work full time and plan to move in together next month. At first I was hooked and excited to finally move in together, but now the thought nearly scares me for a very specific reason: he's so bad and cringe in bed that it's really uncomfortable for me.
I have a little more experience in bed than he does and have tried to explain to him often enough what he can do better and what I like. But all efforts are in vain. When he kisses me, it's just sloppy and awkward because he just can't do it properly (I think you know what I mean when talking about a really bad kiss). I often turn my head away and tell him I don't like it that way and that he has to do it more calmly and less wet, but he then starts to hold my head and eats what feels like half my face. The way he does it and every other sexual stuff feels very staged and unnatural, almost like he wrote a script and is reenacting it in the most horrible way.
Then when it comes to sex, it doesn't get any better. He almost throws himself on top of me and hurts me occasionally as his elbow is either pressing on my wrist or thigh or he is suffocating me in his kisses that I can hardly breathe. I always ask him to be more careful and not to put all his weight on me, but that doesn't seem to change anything.
Even when he's not initiating sex, he's always groping me and constantly sticking his hand down my pants or shirt like a lustful teenager. He grabs my arms, tights, boobs, and any other body parts so hard that it really hurts, and I have very insensitive boobs. I also told him that he should be more careful and not grope me all the time, as it is often simply inappropriate, for example when I am cooking or folding the laundry. Most of the time he grabs me and pushes me against the walls and forced himself so much on me that I can hardly move freely. I have to tell him over and over again that I don't like it, especially when cooking, folding laundry or washing dishes, but he just doesn't seem to get it.
Then, when it comes to sex, there's the usual slurping, crushing, and groping. The sex is so horrible that I'm starting to make excuses like I have a headache (the classic), I'm on my period, I'm tired or I'm being honest about that I plainly don't want it because of his way of doing it. He always promises me to improve, but that never seems to happen. At first I even had a lot of desire for sex, but that's sadly gone now.
In the actual act, it's uncoordinated, lacking any rhythm, and it's a painful poking around. I think he doesn't grasp how to have sex despite all my efforts to teach and educate him. I start believing he's just too awkward and "untalented" when it comes to that. It's almost embarrassing for me, and as sorry as I am, it reminds me of the horrific first time of two teenagers. And it doesn't get better.
I started agreeing only to sex because otherwise he won't stop trying to get me to sleep with him and he even starts forcing me until I give in, saying he can't do anything about his lust and manhood because of me and that's why I'm apparently the one to handle it. I just don't know what to do anymore.
Otherwise, he is the perfect match, except for the intimacy part. If we would leave that part out as it's only going to get worse instead of better, everything would be perfect. It really pisses me off and lately I've just been avoiding him and even working weekend shifts so I don't have to be with him and serve as his toy for his pathetic attempts of properly having sex. Hardly a day goes by that I don't cry because I'm so uncomfortable and no matter what I try, nothing gets better. Apart from that, he tends to act cringy by making extremely mushy comments and being way too cheesy. I often told him that it turns me off, but that doesn't change either. Again, he's the absolutely perfect match and I seriously couldn't be happier, but all this romantic-sexual-stuff is out of place.
Can you guys give me any tips? What am I supposed to do now? I really love this guy and want to spend the rest of my life with him, but this makes it almost unbearable to be around him at the moment.

I went to the dollar store to get frosting after my ballet class, and as I was getting into my car this guy- I have no idea how old he was, but he’s definitely older than me- called out to me, telling me that I had a very nice car and he liked it. I said thank you and proceeded to get in my car.
My window was down, and the guy came and stood by it and told me that I was the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. I thanked him, and he asked my name, so I gave him a nickname. He gave me his name- George- and asked a couple more questions- what do I do for a job (I’m a bakery assistant, did not tell him where), do I have kids (no- I’m a twenty-year-old college student which I did not tell him, I just said no) am I from around here (yes.) To that last question he asked if I was sure because I “don’t look like I’m from around here.” I really have no idea what that means. He also told me that he’s from Ohio.
After that he said that he would “love to be my friend” and asked if he could give me his number- his phone was dead so I couldn’t give him mine. I would have said no, that I didn’t have a phone, but it was on the seat next to me and I didn’t want to be rude. So I let him give me his number, and then he went into the store and I went home. Told my mom what happened, she said it was probably a scam, and if it wasn’t I was dressed for ballet class in a leotard, short skirt, and tights, so that was probably why this happened.
I really have no idea what I’m supposed to do now? I feel like I shouldn’t text him back, but he was not creepy at all and actually very nice. He was quite attractive, not going to lie- tall Black guy with a gorgeous accent- but I’m asexual and aromantic, and very happily single. I’m also twenty and this guy was definitely older than that, probably twenty-five or older. I have a pixie cut and don’t wear makeup- I had just blue eyeliner on today because I forgot to take it off after rehearsal- and I’ve never thought of myself as pretty. I’ve never even been catcalled before, let alone had someone give me their number. So I was very confused and didn’t really know what to do.
Did I get scammed somehow? What just happened? Should I have not let him give me his number? What do I do now??
TLDR- guy gave me his number and I have no idea what to do

I've been having some printing issues with my Ender3Max, so I installed a CRTouch, compiled my own Professional Software for UBL, and I have one particular spot where nothing works. IF I get the filament to stick, it galls, and the mesh shows a huge red trough there. So, troubleshooting.
Turns out it's a factory defect. The extrusion, where the rollers run, has a huge dip in the channel! I know it was factory, because it's impossible to see because it's painted over.
Solutions? Are there better quality extrusions, or should I try for a linear rail system, and if so, which one?
Also, curious, I use Dual-Z on both my MAX and my V2, is there a Dual-Y solution?

I (F45) have an incredibly amazing boyfriend (M38). He is kind (not just to me, but to everyone). He is considerate, thoughtful, rational and analytical (without being cold), extremely intelligent, and has a few hobbies that he invests himself in fully- his favorite probably being his fish tanks. An example of the energy he brings to his hobbies is how he treats his fish by feeding them high quality food by hand, live-planting their tanks with environmentally appropriate plantings that are not only beautiful, but are designed to mimic their natural habitats. He is kind and gentle to animals, and goes to extraordinary lengths to protect them, with the one exception being he kills one deer a year and has it processed so that we can have ethically sourced meat that hasn’t been factory farmed. I know this sounds like I’m making him up, but there are far more things I could say about his positive qualities.
I am often a difficult person. I have also struggled with alcoholism in the past, which, partially due to his patience and encouragement I have managed to overcome. Amazingly. I don’t believe that there are many people in this world who would tolerate some of the actions my past addiction problems have pit him through, which admittedly have been hurtful and dishonest.
To be clear, this is not due to the whole “craziness versus hotness” scale that I often see thrown about. I am not unattractive, but I am overweight. (So is he, but that means nothing to me other than how it might affect his future health, and consequently our chances to have as much time to spend with each other as we age.) His weight aside, he is a very attractive man.
Besides a seven year relationship I had in my twenties, which looking back was more like a roommate situation, he is my first real relationship. I am his first relationship. We have been living together for 2.5 years. Overall things have been amazing, as we both lived very independently, and despite being very extroverted in social situations, and socially popula well liked, we don’t have the need to be around people.
We have the same sense of humor, we both love to cook, and we both like to do small things and make gestures to demonstrate care, affection, and love. He enjoys taking care of me, but is in no way controlling, or views this care as transactional. At all.
There is, in my opinion, one issue that causes breakdown occasionally: communication. I am all about words. I love language, and I love the way language can be used to clearly express ideas, intent, etc. He is not a verbal communicator. He is at almost the opposite end of the curve when it comes to that. He reads voraciously, and has excellent command of vocabulary and comprehension, but he just doesn’t “use his words.”
I know it doesn’t come naturally to him. I have learned this and accept to a large degree, and feel it’s important to compromise. He also has a problem with listening. I have tried to adjust my communication style- not at all times, but when I deem it to be important- essentially when I judge that it’s important to both of us to hear what I am trying to convey. Most of it I just let slide, and I have also tried something new recently, which was to let him know that I’d rather he simply tell me he’s not listening, or doesn’t want to listen, rather than say nothing. I don’t like repeating myself, but more importantly, in my mind if he is sitting two feet away, and I say something, I assume he has heard it, and retained it. This is often not the case. This leads to frustration and miscommunication from both of us.
So. Apologies for the long winded context.
I am looking for general advice regarding communication from people who have experience with this dynamic. And books on the subject would be great. I looked around a bit, but haven’t found any I feel are fitting.
I want to be with this wonderful man for the rest of our lives, but I know I often make him unhappy. His happiness is equally as important as my own, and sometimes more so. I think he may need to adjust a little, but suspect I might need to adjust more, and am willing to put in the work to improve. I should also note that I am often very relaxed, but can have episodes in which I am very high strung. I have ADHD, and am highly sensitive and empathic. (People will describe an injury they had years before and I will physically feel pain, and sometimes my blood pressure rises.) I have worked with a doctor for years to determine the best way to medicate for these realities- basically mild ADHD med, antidepressant, and anti anxiety as needed.
I also have had some past trauma which I have gone to therapy for with limited success. (Have seen six different therapists over the years. The last one helped a lot with life balance, but was not someone I could ever dig into trauma with.) I am not in an area that has many options.
Any and all suggestions are welcomed and appreciated.
TL;DR - I need suggestions on how to improve communication with my very non language oriented partner and myself, who is the opposite.

Personally, I think it was a mixed bag.
The journey was definitely great, it should have been, and was, an arduous path down to the boss room.
On the other hand, the battle with his forces prior to the confrontation with him was a bit weak. Great cutscene, but I can excuse the battle being a little wimpy with the Switch's hardware. They did the best they could with what they had and I respected that. The sages fighting off all the bosses again was a great nod to their growth and new strength, bosses you had to work together to defeat they held off one on one so you could do what needed to be done.
For me personally, Ganondorf himself was a fairly difficult fight, he was hard to hit, but he never came even close to whittling down all 25 hearts of mine. It was hard to hit him and chip him down, but I managed it, and the cutscenes/battle were solid.
I thought him becoming a dragon himself was actually rather unexpected, and the idea of battling the Demon Dragon with Zelda was great in concept, but unfortunately tedious in execution. Maybe a 7/10 I guess for that portion? If wasn't terrible. It just wasn't good.
Finally, Zelda herself. I never played BoTW (I know they're very similar, but it's thematic and mechanical reasons why I wasn't interested), so losing her was never a huge thing to me. Seeing her become a dragon didn't tug on my heartstrings because they relied on a relationship built up in a previous game to make you care. That much I'm fine with, that isn't inherently a problem. But I think taking away her ultimate sacrifice of becoming a dragon was both disappointing and predictable. From the moment I saw she became a dragon I was wondering if, or rather when, they'd bring her back. And lo and behold they did.
I think the end started out strong, but unfortunately got a bit weaker as it went along. Still, it was a good enough game to hold my attention for literally 6 full days worth of playtime. Not waking hours, the equivalent of 6 days of my life start to end. Good game, slightly disappointing ending.
But that's just my take. For everyone else who's beaten it, what did you think?

Wanted to test my speed paints 2.0 on this figure, i am not the best painter but i like how its looking! I still have some touch ups to do as this was the first paint/coat. Black areas need lots of touch ups. It was primed in black and then white zenithal, base still needs to be painted as well. I will be printing the entire black order and thanos eventually to paint similar with a slap chop/zenithal style

You died on a ventilator two years ago. How many of the last weeks of your life were you on pain drugs. You had no idea what was eve going on. Breathing with a machine, dying just a little bit every moment until you died? I never got to say goodbye to you or even see you before you left us. Your ashes lie in a cemetery across the country that I'll probably never be able to visit.
Today you would have turned 75. I just turned 50 a couple weeks ago. You would have called me and busted my ass for being over the hill and an old man. No one called me on my birthday, but you would have not forgotten. Not the big FIVE - OH.
​
But I wanted you to know today, well so far, today isn't a sad day at all.
I sat out in the park and sang to Suki this morning for a couple hours. I sang some Willie Nelson too. Remember Angel too Close to the Ground, and Georgia? Those were two of your favorites and I sang those to an empty park and Suki, (yep, my dog is still a 12 year old puppy) just looked at me like I was crazy and I could tell she was just judging me ahahahah. My voice has gotten worse over the years, but I'm slowly working up to being able to sing again, like we used to sing.
I remember growing up and singing country songs and old classic rock songs while we worked on cars or drove to Home Depot or built picnic tables together. My whole life was filled with you and me singing something. You're really the one that made singing something normal. I haven't really sang much since you left. I'm sorry.
I remember the last time I sat with you in our backyard with steve and a few other friends and I played the guitar and we sang those songs together after a few drinks when the bonfire was getting low. I remember your voice hadn't changed in all the years I knew and sang with you. I learned Pancho and Lefty and played Wish you were Here and a bunch of cool songs you thought I had forgot, but I hadn't. I had to look up a couple on my phone I think...
Anyway. This past year's been fucking rough, but I didn't want to take anything away from your birthday with all the shit that I've had to deal with. I didn't want to tell you that I've been failing at taking your advice for a while now and I regret that so badly. I wish you were here to tell me what I needed to hear so many times. I wish you were here to remind me that I'm smart and loving and kind and "fuck whoever doesn't see that". I wish I could have called you all those nights I was confused and felt taken advantage of so you could have given me advice that I so desperately needed. I really just wish you were here.
I just wanted to tell you I love you, I miss you, and I promise I will sing again.
And I'm sorry that what I've been doing with my life would have let you down for the past year or so.
I promise i will sing again.
​
I love you, Pops.

I (18F) have a classmate (18F) have a classmate I cannot bear. She reminds me of an older version of me that I hated, and althought I'm okay being with her for some activities with friends, I just feel really uneasy when she's here, and it honestly ruin my mood. At the beginning of the year, I immediatly thought to myself "stay away from her, you'll get jealous and it will end up unbearable" (she is the archetype of the lucky girl, rich, pretty, talented, popular). Around december, I put my first impressions aside and we worked together on some project at her home, we talked about personnal difficulties such as stress, and I really saw myself in her. I then did the move that ruined our relation for her, I started a debate about talent vs hardwork (i used to hate myself for having great grades without trying while seeing my friends work their ass off for average results). She is super hard working, but she indeniably has some talent, and I pointed out that tons of people in our class are trying as hard as her, and don't even get half of the results (but never denied that she was hardworking, I even praised her about that). She refused to admit it, and I learned later that she felt really hurt and considered I was toxic for her at this point. A few weeks later, her behavior started to get on my nerves, I saw her as cocky and condescending, the type of person who stops the exercise if it doesn't immediately comes out perfectly and talks loud to make sure other notice the exercise isn't done perfectly because she didn't do it, not because of some lack of skill, while disturbing everyone else in the room. Two specific events come to my mind to give you an idea : we have this competitive class some people want to get into, not enough places for everyone. A dear friend of mine wanted to join it, even thought his work is probably not good enough. With the best friend, they examinated everyone's portfolio and laughed about how there were people who "didn't even count in the competition" which I found really unconsiderate and mean. She also rage quitted because she didn't received the best grade in the class, comparing her work and grade to her friend's and left without a word while dumping her painting in front of our teacher when he told her it was a good work, and that her grade was already really great, and representative of her work. I talked about this to a close friend, turns out I wasn't the only one who felt this way, and during some vacation, she suddenly unfollowed me and removed me from her followers without any warning. well. I started to panic, I thought everyone talked behind my back blah-blah-blah, so i went to talk with her. She told me about this debate thingy, I was over-apologetic since I didn't realize she felt this way, and it must have been really bothering her since she unfollowed me at the end of the vacation, 2 weeks after our last encounter. (which meant it was still on her mind). My best friend (not in the same school) was there while I responded to her and she told me we both had our faults and that I didn't have to be the only one apologizing this way while she never put herself in question. We directly takled about what we thought about each other and followed each other back, agreeing on not getting along but tolerating each other's presence and being on good terms. Her behavior came back on some conversations with other people in our class, and I only told other people things I told her directly (and I precised it to these friends before saying anything). Well. Yesterday was the last day of school, today she unfollowed me -removed me again. I went to ask her to let me follow her since it's her art account and she does great things that I would like to see (I told her that). She told me coldy something about me affirming things about her to other people, I spoke about her with her best friend (absolutely no pure hate, just questionnements on her way to apprehend things and concern for her), a friend I trust with my life, and another friend I really like. Obviously her best friend told her about our conversation, but "Not only her", so it must be this other friend. I'm kinda disapointed he told her about what I told him but well, since since the beginning she doesn't question her behavior and I'm the only one reconsidering my acts, I feel like the bad guy, and it's nice seeing people agreeing that I'm a bad person, and learning that a really close friend "betrayed" me actually makes me feel great. I do not like myself, am really unstable both mentally and emotionaly and tons of friends affirm I'm a wonderful person but I feel like an impostor and an awful person lying to everyone making them believe I'm a great human when it's false. I feel relieved she sees me as a shitty person, and I feel relieved someone betrayed me since it means they don't value me, as I believe no one should. I obviously can't tell anyone about this, only my therapist since I'm not a pick me fishing compliments or reassurance. So here it is, off my chest.