First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
First/Previous
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As the title says, I F(25), have a crush on my F(29) coworker and we both have happy relationships. (both of us are queer but 1 in a hetero). This isn’t going anywhere but I just really want to share with SOMEONE how I feel.
I’ve been working at this newer job for about a year now. My coworker Leti has been there for roughly 4 years. We work on the same floor but on different ends of the building. Our jobs are very similar and sometimes we have lunch together in a group with others but I don’t get to work with her directly. When I first arrived Leti was immediately open, warm, and welcoming. She has made an effort to make me feel included but it’s not just me, I have noticed she has amazing connections with everyone. She’s so funny and kind to all those around her. Everyone always has a smile when they are talking with her. Her smile and laughter is contagious and her energy radiates.
I’ve found myself getting nervous around her and feeling like I stumble over my words a bit. I notice i’m making reasons to go talk to her and to be around her or share random work stuff. We will spend our breaks together every so often laughing and talking the whole time. Shes helped me adjust to my new job and gave me her number so I can text her if I needed. She’s reached out to start a small project with me where we meet weekly to work together. I feel like she always laughs at my jokes, compliments me, and is super supportive.
Recently Leti has asked me if I wanted to hangout outside of work and go get some drinks. I excitedly agreed and we are making a plan to hangout next week.
I think she is just really kind and friendly and simply wants to make a friend but I can’t help but get butterflies when I talk to her. She’s so beautiful and her energy is so bright, gentle, and grounding(she’s an earth sign).I feel so connected to her and drawn in by her personality almost like a magnet. She is a one of a kind person. I don’t know how I am supposed to calmly hangout with her outside of work and act like just chill friends when I am crushing this hard.
I feel like the added layer of us both being queer women leaves so much more room for misinterpretion. She’s made many efforts and moves to advance our friendship and talk more. When we talk sometimes i’ve noticed she seems to get a little bit more awkward around me. I can’t tell if she has a crush too or if i’m making it up.

We dated for 9.9 years, he broke up with me 2 weeks shy of our 10th anniversary last fall. It went from crying every time I saw him (3 times), to me going no contact for 3 months, and taking some time to grieve and work through my feelings. I reached out and it went from a phone call to us hanging out 3 times (just talking at my place, a movie and then to dog park to spend time with our dog he now solely owns). He watches and responds to my stories a lot of the time. We are friendly, and it feels more natural than it did before. Peaceful even, without the pressure of the relationship and the past looming over. I will say no, I don’t want to go back, and nothing romantic happened when we hung out.
I was okay until yesterday. It was a crappy day; it was raining bad and my bus/walking commute to work was horrible.
Then I see on social media his best friend posted a video of my ex and old “friends” (his friends and coworkers, who haven’t reached out once since we broke up) going on a trip together for the wedding they were all in. The best friend was making a comment about a situation that only those who them would find funny. I sent a 😂 and wished her a good flight and trip.
My next thought about the dog. I have no clue who’s watching him, if it’s kenneled or with strangers, before I moved out I was with the dog 24/7. It felt surreal that the world I was a part of and helped create, I’m no longer in the narrative. I’m now a living piece of history in their story. At the same time I’m walking into work with these thoughts in my mind, a sad song comes up on Spotify and I lose it. I go out my stuff down at my desk then run to an empty meeting room and sob.
Idk why that triggered me. I think it was just that I had to start over, lose 98% of friends (who I now know weren’t really friends), the house, the dog, move into an apartment unexpectedly and rearrange my whole life. And he just gets to frolic with friends and nothing has changed for him. I felt a little …jealous (?) that I was literally crying in the rain, he’s on an island somewhere enjoying the sunshine. I was grieving the life I thought I was going to be a part of. And he was just living it.
The grief and tears, and jealousy left as quickly as they came. But it did throw me off. 8 months in and I haven’t cried over this since month 4. The random moments of grief is what gets me the most.

I'm 35 years old, and I'm working full time at my local Kentucky Fried Chicken. Some days it's busy. Other days, not so much. On the slow days, I try to keep my coworkers in good spirits. My manager usually likes my jokes, but my coworker Kyle (16M) is harder to crack.
We have our differences. He sometimes complains about my inability to close the kitchen properly. To his credit, I have been known to leave prep vegetables on the counter. I try to tell him it's because of my ADHD, but regardless, he tries his best to not interact with me.
I recognize now that Kyle and I aren't close enough to really have rapport. He's a lot younger than me, but since I was relentlessly bullied in high school, I want his approval in a weird way.
When I'm doing my jokes, it's your typical workplace pranks. (e.g. putting lettuce in Kyle's shoes) Nothing to get upset over. When Kyle would raise a fuss, I'd just tell him that he's overreacting.
So yesterday, I was trying to have a conversation with him. I was telling him about the Oiler's game, and he didn't seem interested. He had his back turned, his headphones were in, and he was leaning while watching a video. I found this incredibly rude at the time, because I was trying to start a conversation with him.
So I thought it would be funny to pour hot oil from the fryer onto his hand. He started to scream like a little girl so I told him to "calm the fuck down" but he told the manager. I was promptly asked to go home for the week.
Initially, I was mad that this new generation can't take a joke. He definitely overreacted to get on my nerves. But now that I had the week off, I was getting excited to finally finish my BloodBorne save.
When I told my wife what Kyle did to me, I started to realize that it maybe wasn't that funny to pour hot oil on his hand. I won't lie, I still think it's a little funny.
TL;DR: I burnt my coworker in a silly prank, but he didn't like being burned.

I'm 35 years old, and I'm working full time at my local Kentucky Fried Chicken. Some days it's busy. Other days, not so much. On the slow days, I try to keep my coworkers in good spirits. My manager usually likes my jokes, but my coworker Kyle (16M) is harder to crack.
We have our differences. He sometimes complains about my inability to close the kitchen properly. To his credit, I have been known to leave prep vegetables on the counter. I try to tell him it's because of my ADHD, but regardless, he tries his best to not interact with me.
I recognize now that Kyle and I aren't close enough to really have rapport. He's a lot younger than me, but since I was relentlessly bullied in high school, I want his approval in a weird way.
When I'm doing my jokes, it's your typical workplace pranks. (e.g. putting lettuce in Kyle's shoes) Nothing to get upset over. When Kyle would raise a fuss, I'd just tell him that he's overreacting.
So yesterday, I was trying to have a conversation with him. I was telling him about the Oiler's game, and he didn't seem interested. He had his back turned, his headphones were in, and he was leaning while watching a video. I found this incredibly rude at the time, because I was trying to start a conversation with him.
So I thought it would be funny to pour hot oil from the fryer onto his hand. He started to scream like a little girl so I told him to "calm the fuck down" but he told the manager. I was promptly asked to go home for the week.
Initially, I was mad that this new generation can't take a joke. He definitely overreacted to get on my nerves. But now that I had the week off, I was getting excited to finally finish my BloodBorne save.
When I told my wife what Kyle did to me, I started to realize that it maybe wasn't that funny to pour hot oil on his hand. I won't lie, I still think it's a little funny.
TL;DR: I burnt my coworker in a silly prank, but he didn't like being burned.

I spent last month working part-time at a restaurant and developed feelings for a coworker. I think the feeling is mutual, but we didn't have enough time to get closer. Tomorrow, I'm moving to a different country. She was sad when I told her. Although we're not too attached because it's early in the relationship, I'll probably miss her and never see her again. How should I say goodbye to her?

My friend and I have have been in a friendship for 10+ years. I am known to get triggered when people unnecessarily censor me because I feel unheard and ignored. However I wasn't expecting it to come from this particular friend.
Anyway, she made a funny post on FB about girls and flowers and I replied back with "Clitoria Ternatea has entered the chat." It gets deleted. I reply back again with picture and context and I get a voice note about how she is not comfortable with these words as they are too sexual and her pastor and husbands coworkers see her page. In my mind "how is that my problem if people don't understand how scientific names work?" We exchange messages in messenger but it still feels like a cop out. Then I post "Pussy WIllows have entered the chat" and that gets deleted. I am so lost because these are given names of flowers.
How do I understand these....sensitivities?

For context it started months back where I noticed my wife texting and laughing a lot. I asked what’s so funny. She mentioned it was her male coworker being funny. Didn’t think anything of it until I noticed it was non stop texting day and night. Mentioned it bothered me how much she’s texting him. She says it’s all innocent and that they’re just friends and they’re talking about things from work and other random stuff and she mentioned he has a gf. I said alright, but if he confesses some type of love towards her I would like her to end it. To which she agreed. Time passes still see them texting so often. Then I finally found out from her that he has caught feelings for her days after he’s confessed to her because I confronted her about something else. I’ve asked her to end her friendship and now I believe she resents me for it. Am I in the wrong?

hello. I'm Rosa Pennitt, a 33-year-old computer engineer from the UK, currently working in London, and I've come to realise that there are many students living the dream I've always dreamed of, in a country far away from London, called South Korea.Having been to South Korea, it's been an amazing experience and I have nothing but praise for the country.Growing up, my family didn't have much money. I had to take out student loans until I graduated from university, and I managed to graduate by applying for jobs on campus, working part-time at the library, and getting some government funding. If I was very good, I could get a scholarship, but I wasn't that good, and I was accepted to the school I applied to first, so the scholarship was very hard to get.
I've been working in the field of computer engineering since then, and I've had a variety of careers, and I'm currently working for a company that works as a team. We build and maintain software and hardware, such as developing new programming and building a server room for a project, and I'm working on the hardware side of things.
Recently, a project with a large company in the UK was successfully completed, and all employees were given time off, and we were all given generous holiday pay, so everyone was encouraged to go abroad.I always like to go to new cultures and experience new things, and this was a pretty big project, and we completed it ahead of schedule, so we were given a long holiday and generous holiday pay.
I have a friend named Lily, who I've been hanging out with in my neighbourhood since I was a kid, who is now settled in Korea and working as a lecturer at a university there.
When I told Lily that I was going to take a long leave of absence and was considering staying abroad, she asked me to come to Korea at this time. She always talked about how much she liked Korea, and I was curious about Korea, so I said yes.
After finishing the project, during the few days when I had to go back to work to complete various paperwork at the company, my colleagues had all made travel plans to different places, and I mentioned that I was going to go to Korea this time.
I was taking a break from work, grabbing a cup of coffee from the vending machine and relaxing in the waiting area when he approached me and asked me, "Are you travelling to Korea this time? How many days are you going to be there?" I wondered why he was so interested, given his negative comments about Korea.
"I'm going to Korea for about two weeks, and my best friend from childhood is a professor there, so I'm thinking of getting her help."For some unknown reason, Richard, who had been talking negatively about Korea, didn't let my story go.
"Korea is just a subset of Japan, its culture is not as good, its development is not as advanced as Japan's," he said in one short sentence, which was very offensive to me.I didn't stand still either. Lily, who lives in Korea, has told me many good things about Korea and how it is better than the UK, and her examples were specific and she didn't seem to be lying, so I had a positive opinion of Korea, and even though I haven't been to Korea yet, I found Richard's comment very rude.
"My friend Lily has been living in Korea for four years, she knows so many good things about Korea, and she often tells me about the excellence of Korean culture, so Richard, on what basis do you talk about denigrating other countries?" Richard seemed confused by my unexpectedly strong words.
He hesitated, then said, "I don't know because I haven't experienced it myself, but I find it hard to believe that Korea is good, because I'm going to Japan next time, and I'm sure I'll have a better experience there than in Korea." I didn't want to get into another argument with Richard, so I just walked away.
I thought he was just a low-level person who was talking bullshit and tried to move on, but his words kept coming back to me.No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't understand what he was saying, and I regretted coming back to him without giving him a proper response.I should have just stood my ground and shut him up! But I felt that going back and arguing with Richard now would only give him an excuse to fight me and put me in a worse position, so I had to suck it up and let it go.Of course, during my trip to Korea, Richard paid a heavy price for his remorse, but I'll tell you about that in a moment.
I had to get over the offence, and the day finally arrived to board the plane to Korea.Before I left Korea, I had come to think of it as a minor disagreement.Getting on the plane to Korea was exciting and anticipated in itself.Meeting Lily at the airport, reuniting with her after so many years, and welcoming her to Korea, I could see her relaxed and content with life in Korea.
With her guidance, we began our tour of Korea, a truly exotic country, a whole different world, and I could see why she raved about it.
The roads were clean and well-maintained, the public toilets were almost always clean everywhere you went, the food was delicious, and there were plenty of experience zones where you could experience the amazing cultural industries that Korea has to offer. I also visited several of the country's large shopping malls, which were all beautifully designed and built with an eye for aesthetics.
On my tenth day in Korea, I had fully adjusted to the time difference and was soaking up the Korean atmosphere that I was hoping that time would pass more slowly.
Lily insisted that we go to Gwangjang Market, which is one of the most popular spots for foreigners, but she said that even if you don't go there, you can find all the food sold at Gwangjang Market in other places, and to be honest, vendors who charge foreigners unfairly have been in the news recently, and when I saw the news, I thought that I had been victimised many times.
Lily didn't want me to go to Gwangjang Market because she said that it was the place where even Koreans are unfairly charged. However, the atmosphere of Gwangjang Market was very different, so I convinced her to go to Gwangjang Market after promising her that I wouldn't buy anything at Gwangjang Market, but just watch.
As expected, there were quite a few foreigners at the entrance of Gwangjang Market, including many Europeans and Americans, but also many people from other Asian countries besides Korea. Lily was disappointed because she said that in Korea, most of the prices are scouted and 99% of the stores are transparent, but there are some merchants who take unfair advantage of the market and ruin the image of Korea.
I was surprised to hear Lily's story because unlike other European countries, Korea is a country where foreigners don't have to pay more for goods and food, and where prices are set, so I was surprised to hear that there are places in Korea where people who do this kind of dirty business.
From a foreigner's point of view, Korea is a country where people are not perfect and there will be people who behave badly, but from a foreigner's point of view, Korea is a country that has been transparent in its consumption, where you have to eat expensive food at the gwangjang market, where you are treated unfairly, but where you have paid very honestly everywhere else. If it weren't for Lily, I would have been a victim of such a scam here, and I felt that such injustices shouldn't happen anymore.
Although I didn't buy anything or eat anything here, I felt that the atmosphere of the Korean market was different and there was a lot to see. Lily also wanted to buy things and eat food here, but she emphasised many times that we should be satisfied with just looking around.
After walking slowly, we walked back towards the entrance of the market and saw a familiar figure in front of us, which I almost recognised as Richard, who hadn't shaved in a while, had a scruffy beard, and was dressed in a plain outfit, standing still on the side of the road, looking at his mobile phone.
Actually, Lily knew about Richard, because when I was in Korea, a colleague of mine, Richard, told me that there was a person who said that Korea was just a subordinate country of Japan, that it was culturally and economically backward, and Lily was very upset about that, and she asked him if he had ever been to Korea or Japan, and she was very upset to hear Richard's bullshit. She made me understand from the very beginning that what Richard was saying was complete bullshit, that the United States was a subsidiary of the United Kingdom.
I told her that there was Richard, the characterless man I had told her about.I was surprised, and she was very surprised.If he was going to Japan, why is he here? I approached him cautiously.I looked at his face and silhouette several times to make sure it was him, and then I was sure it was him.Dear Richard, are you lost? Can I help you? I didn't ask him in an aggressive way, but in a friendly way, because you have to be careful and friendly to get what you want.
Richard was very surprised and smiled at me, very happy to see me. I introduced him to Lily, who was next to me, as a friend of mine who lives in Korea, and although Lily had already heard about Richard, this was her first introduction to Richard.
Richard arrived in Korea this morning and said that it was his first time here and that he couldn't get used to the different atmosphere from Japan. I asked him if he hadn't just been living in Japan and was going back to England, and he made an unrecognisable fat face. I knew something was up right away. I suggested to him that if we hadn't already eaten, we should join him for a meal, saying that it was a great coincidence to meet a colleague in Korea and that we must have a lot to talk about.
I wanted to take my time to hear Richard's story about why he came to Korea.I didn't want him to give away the fact that he had hostile feelings towards Korea, that Lily and I knew, and that he thought very badly of it.Slowly, as I listened to his story, he relaxed and began to tell me that he had actually had an unfortunate experience in Japan.
He said that he was walking down a busy street in Osaka, and he wanted to go to a bar by himself, but he didn't know much about Japan, so he was wandering the streets, wondering which bar to go to, when he was approached by a Japanese man who was smiling at him. At first, he didn't realise he was a tout, because he didn't look like a typical tout, he wasn't dressed in fancy clothes, he just looked like an ordinary office worker.
Richard said he was looking for a pub nearby, and the tout said he knew of one, and led him to it, where he drank contentedly by himself. He said he enjoyed the quiet atmosphere, the lack of people but himself, and the small Japanese-style bar where he drank at his leisure.He said he drank as much as he was satisfied with, and when he asked for the bill to pay and leave the bar, he realised that he had been charged a ridiculously high amount of money.8 The bill was for about 10,000 yen, and it was very expensive, including the tax, and it even included the drinks and snacks that I didn't drink.
He said that he could never pay, but they wouldn't let him leave because they didn't understand him or didn't speak English.
When Richard insisted that he couldn't pay, and shouted that he was going to call the police, they started to bring more empty glasses to the table where he was sitting, and even brought some dirty plates as if he had already eaten the appetisers, and threatened him.
Richard said that he was able to get out of the situation after settling the bill for 50,000 won. After being scammed in Japan, Richard quickly lost interest in travelling, and the next day he went to another place, but there was nothing in sight, and he said that he couldn't bear to think about what happened yesterday.
He said he came to Korea not because he liked Korea, but because he just wanted to get out of Japan, and I came to think that it was a very good thing that we didn't let him enter Gwangjang Market.
Lily and I comforted him, and then I took him around Seoul with me for the rest of the next few days, showing him the conscientious, clean, and friendly side of Korea that I had seen, but also the incredibly developed side of Korea.
Starbucks in Korea is like a place where a lot of people are working on their laptops, doing their work, a little bit like a school library, and it's very quiet, and then Richard and I saw two Korean students, who were programming and coding, and they were struggling with something.
Richard and I, who have already endured a long period of bumps in the road in our careers, could tell that they were trying to solve a task set by the school, and at the same time, we were curious about what they were building and what they were doing.Richard first said to the Korean students, "I'm actually a working programmer, and I'm here to help you because you seem to be stuck and not making progress.
I sat down with the two Korean students, and we had a chance to talk about things.They were freshmen in college, and I didn't have much to offer them programmatically, but I could tell that they had a really great vision and were working very hard.It's kind of creepy to talk about the conversation with them, so I won't go into details, but I felt like I was seeing myself in the past, because I was in a very similar position as a college student, struggling financially and having to study.
I talked to them about the programming industry and gave them a good vision of what they could do if they tried hard enough, and I also remember giving them a dessert to end the meeting.
It was very meaningful to have the opportunity to interact with these students and not just go back to Korea as a tourist.
After a few days of enjoying Korea, he even arranged for me to fly back to the UK with him, as he had been travelling alone in Japan and had been victimised by a scam, so he was very emotionally distressed and relied on me as a colleague.
So at the end of our time in Korea, I said goodbye to Lily, and he said goodbye to Lily, and we were sitting next to each other on the plane, and we were heading back to the UK.
And I asked him a question, do you realise now that before I went to Korea, you said that Korea was a subordinate country of Japan, that it was a very flippant thing to say, and that it could have hurt a lot of people?" I said sharply and firmly.He said he had nothing to say, that he thought he had been punished for what he had said, and that he had been thinking about what he had said the whole trip, and that he was grateful that he had said it now.
Richard acknowledged that his comments were very flippant, saying that he had never been to Korea and had never been to Japan, but that there was no reason for him to think that way."I was very quick to judge Korea, and after travelling around with you and experiencing it firsthand, I realised that I was wrong. Richard's sincere apology softened my feelings towards him, and I actually thought he felt the same way, because when the three of us were travelling around Korea with Lily, he would often say things like, "I really like Korea," "Korea is amazing," and "I didn't know that before, why didn't I know that before?
Richard's flippant remarks were very wrong, but I also felt that he was not a very human being when he reflected on his experiences in Korea and Japan. If he doesn't make flippant remarks again, I think he would be a good colleague to work with.
After returning to the UK, the project team came together again, each with their own wonderful experiences, and talking about them was like travelling the world indirectly for a few days, and I heard a variety of stories, and Richard was the loudest, and it was funny to see how loudly he said he loved Korea.
He promised not to say anything rude, so he didn't tell me about his scam in Japan, but I don't know if it was because he was ashamed of what happened to him, or if he decided not to say anything bad about other countries.This was my travelogue about Korea, and I would like to write about it again if I go to Korea again in the future.

On my last day of work when everyone was saying goodbye to me. I started to feel sentimental and cried a bit. I feel embarrassed. We were not to close and I wasn't that sad but when it came time to say goodbye I kind of broke down a bit. They noticed and kind of felt sad for me being and looking sad. Idk now I'm here thinking that they might think of me as someone weird.

on my name tag at work i have a label that says “any pronouns” and ive had multiple cis coworkers see it and say “omg thats so funny” and like this is not something that bothers me at all im genuinely so confused. what is so funny?? does anyone have any insight 😭

Sa susunod na habangbuhay
Dear,
I know, i remember how u were never really a fan of the music i listen to. Yet, each day rose and set, and u were never not perfect. But, it's ironic how those songs almost always reminded me of you, of us, or rather, what was once us.
How we met, how it all began, were all based on circumstances that normally wouldve prevented even letting the two of us know that each other existed. Yet we did, we met, and we fell in love. It was spring.
As dumb college students, it's all what we can do to make it make sense--Magic, fate, universe. We believed what we have, had, was unique, special. We were lucky. We beat the odds. We even jokingly said we mightve used up all our lifetime's worth of luck. Imagine, 2 scientists in training believing in fate. Years after, now more jaded and callous. And yet, i still do. You made me believe in it. And after all these years, i still do.
And maybe i was right, because it lead you to me, again.
I saw you, i see you, trying again. I see you actively meeting people, dating. And whatever factors the universe lead me do that one night, lead ur search to me.
Funny, how one look i knew it was you. Even behind the veil of anonymity, i knew it was you. And what's even more funny is i know u knew it was me too.
Curiosity got the better of me, and i was lead to the snippets of u trying ur chances at love again. And i honestly still dont know how to feel. Im still processing it. There's amazement, shock, sadness, and many more-- an amalgam of emotions i am still trying to decode.
A feeling of sadness and surrender, of wishing your happiness while acknowledging that it's okay to feel pain. The feeling one feels when their "spring", explores to expand their world. The fear and fascination of the person youve become. i wish to someday discover the song that would help me understand what im feeling.
"Maybe in another lifetime" i never realized how your words have been just words to me, until i saw the realness of that possibility happening.
Goodbye, my spring. Maybe in another lifetime.

Wow.. I did not know that Adler was influenced by Nietzsche. I hear so many of Adler’s ideas/thoughts when reading Twighlight of the Idols”! The Four Great Errors is blowing my mind.
It’s also helping me to understand Adler’s ideas on his Trauma Theory better. No experience is in itself a cause of our success or failure. We do not suffer from the shock of our experiences — the so-called trauma — but instead, we make out of them whatever suits our purposes.
I know that Nietzsche talks a lot about fighting against self pity and Adler took it a step further with developing inferiority complex.
Adler’s Trauma Theory - http://www.centroadleriano.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/EMAlfredAdler-TraumaTheory.pdf
Here’s a quote - (Adler was) Undoubtedly influenced by the works of Friedrich Nietzsche, Adler posited that all individuals strive through will towards mastery or superiority. Yet, he did not reach the same conclusions. The concept of will-to-power, or “striving” as phrased by Adler was done at the expense of social interest or community feeling. The goal of Individual Psychology and its practitioners was to help train individuals to contribute to the well-being of the community through tasks of work, love, and friendship. This goal was achieved by acquainting patients with the innate sense of Gemeinschaftsgefühl, or community feeling.
https://digitalcommons.library.uab.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1118&context=etd-collection
With all of this being said. I’m very much interested in object relations, D. W. Winnicott (the “good” internal mother), Mark Solms work (psychoanalyst and neuroscientist), affect regulation theory.
I believe how we relate to people has a direct reflection on our happiness. But I feel conflicted. Any one else out there interested in the brain? Plus love to look at will power and this battle that we choose our path willingly? I feel this dichotomy between “victimized” (although not really), and having chose my fate but also truly not being able to overcome situations due to lack of maternal mothering, lack of affect regulation and mature people who were safe, lack of nervous system regulation and cognitive dissonance at a very young age.
There’s a lot of great research out now and we have MRI/CT scans of the brain, we can draw labs, study people and symptoms like never before. Babies were mostly ignored by many of the great thinkers, it’s almost funny..
Also, this podcast is just incredible.. so much is answered and explained for me. It really allows me to understand better https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-nietzsche-podcast/id1573808070?i=1000655558484

spoilers for Ace Attorney Investigations 1 ahead
In the public eye, Turnabout Airlines has a lot going against it. It's not from a well-liked game, and there's the community's collective and arbitrary dislike of "filler." Neither of these are problems for me - I like I1 and I think "filler case" is an inherently bad term - but I can see the writing on the wall, and it says "nobody else cares about the Zinc Lablanc case."
My point is I don't expect I-2 to place very high, but I'm still arguing on its behalf because it SLAPS!!!! Since I want to keep this down to one comment, I'll focus on this case's two central figures and why they make it stand out.
post-writeup note: yeah the single comment part didnt happen oops, but this will still primarily be me talking about these two guys alone

Rhoda Teneiro

Inside you, there are two flight attendants. One is a girlboss. One is cringefail. They're both Rhoda Teneiro.
There are lots of AA characters (mostly defendants) whose existence can be summed up as being vaguely nice and having Bad Things happen to them. They don't do much for me, I just kinda see them as deliberate sympathy bait on the writers' part, so it's hard to really connect with them as individual characters.
Rhoda, for as nice and hapless as she is, doesn't fall into that, I feel. She has a lot going for her. For one, I just think it's really cool to have a character whose arc revolves around false accusations. It's weird to acknowledge, but the series rarely seems to delve into the immediate aftermath of a witness's false conceptions of murder. The closest we ever get is Lotta in 2-2, which I do like, though I like Rhoda's arc just a bit more.
Rhoda's introduced with the genuine belief that Edgeworth is guilty of murder, and she's the main source of conflict in the early parts of the case. This steadily transitions into Rhoda taking Edgeworth's side, and finally culminates in Rhoda herself as the accused. It's neating seeing both parties in an accusation - the accuser and the accused - depicted in the same character. I especially like Rhoda's slow coming around to Edgeworth, they do a good job depicting her guilt, and it's satisfying seeing her assert herself more in her pursuit of the truth, as if Edgeworth's straight-edge attitude is rubbing off on her. They're cool kindred spirits, even if Rhoda's more personal feelings aren't going anywhere.
I don't mean to downplay Rhoda's role as the case's defendant stand-in, either. After seeing her taking risks with her job and powering through her own suspicions for Edgeworth's sake early on, it's cool seeing him return the favor by defending her after he'd already been let off the hook and very well could've walked off unharmed. Yeah of course he's Edgeworth, we as readers know that he wouldn't, but this is still a good character moment for the both of them. I personally feel this is where Edgeworth is generally at his best in the duology: not undergoing any crazy development like in the trilogy, but in being a pre-developed, static protagonist who instead serves to bring out the best in others (see I2-5 for another example).
I don't have a ton to say on Rhoda on her own, a lot of my deeper feelings on her hinge on another character, but I like her a lot. As a player in I-2's mystery, she fills her role well.
anyway that's enough of the CRINGE plane girl, onto the COOLER plane girl

Cammy Meele

"The narrow road" is a phrase of biblical origin, describing the ease at which a person can fall to sin. The virtuous narrow road is long and tiresome to traverse, whereas the wide road is easy and carefree, a constant temptation to those suffering in their attempts to stay moral.
Anyways, Cammy Meele.
When Cammy's introduced, she's silly. Goofy, even. She's a simpleminded slacker who can't stay awake through a whole sentence. It's established that Rhoda does like 99% of the work between them, and it's easy to see why. The takeaway from Cammy's first impressions? She is dumb.
Then she pulls her hair back and pulls out a bubble pipe and what the fuck she's actually cool as hell????
I really like Cammy's reveal. It kinda comes in at the turning point of the series, where they really start to pop off with these villain transformations. From here to SoJ, it feels as though every other killer has one, even killers already established as bad guys. They're cool and hell, but like... do we need them? Maybe it's just me, but I'm not a huge fan. I feel like it stifles any coherence in a killer's character, making their pre- and post-transformation selves feel like two different entities.
All that to say, this doesn't apply to Cammy. It's easy to reduce her to "smart person pretending to be dumb" and leave it at that, but that's missing the entire context of why she would pretend in the first place. This isn't like Alba or 6-5's killer, where her decision to go Evil Mode is arbitrary just to put on a show for the audience. Cammy isn't putting on a performance for the sake of it. Her transformation doesn't exist for pure shock value.
A benefit of Cammy and Rhoda being coworkers (which I'll get into more later) is that the story doesn't need to put aside establishing the facts for two separate characters, when what applies to one equally applies to the other. With Rhoda, we see firsthand that a smart, driven woman who puts her all into her work struggles for even an ounce of respect. Through that, as well as Cammy's general placidity, it's easy to infer the latter's thought process. That being: the world sucks, so suck harder.
I-2 only gives us a snapshot of the flight attendants' work life, and it's not an appealing one. The clientele includes Zinc Lablanc, and I feel that's all that needs to be said. Cammy's underperformance compared to Rhoda is plain to see, yet it doesn't register at all with the plane's captain in his brief appearance. He blatantly views Cammy more in terms of Wanting To Fuck than as a worker, let alone the accomplished, intelligent individual she is. She studied [vague subject] abroad, and this is the thanks she gets.
Flying against the wind is a fruitless endeavor. You're just wasting energy, and if you end up getting anywhere at all, it'll be further back than where you started. That's the attitude that makes people like Cammy the way they are. She's a smart woman - smart enough to come up with a split-second cover-up for murder - but what good is her intelligence when her place in the world doesn't call for it? When she can game the system just by being exactly what it expects her to be? When all she needs to do to get away with high crime is to put on a dumb grin and look pretty?
It's a relatable feeling for anyone who's worked a shitty job, or been under the thumb of authority, or been a woman - that feeling being the almost survivalistic draw to conformity. Cammy dealt with it firsthand, and through her experience, saw a golden opportunity to reap the benefits of others' ignorance, all for as little effort as possible. I do want to stress that she's still, at her core, lazy. It's really just the cluelessness she plays up. Her willingness to take her place on the totem pole so long as she can benefit speaks to a darker side of her "go with the flow" mentality.
The tragic irony of Cammy's defeat is one who deliberately plays the fool coming undone because she was too smart for her own good. She took her own intelligence for granted, both in her day-to-day as she lazes away in her menial position, and in her murder scheme as she inadvertently indicts herself via bilingualism. For as tempting as the "easy road" is, taking it and shirking her potential forced her into a corner. The cunning that concocted her false persona in the first place, only to be shelved the further she slipped complacency, ended up her undoing.
Cammy's two sides - the silly, sleepy dope and the calculated killer - are intrinsically linked, and looking into why the former even exists is deeply telling of her character. I hate seeing this entire facet of her summed up as just a "gimmick."
I like Cammy a lot. I think it's interesting how she's not remotely sympathetic - she's pitiable, at best - but, I dunno, I still feel like the nature of her deception makes it easy to root for her in some areas, while totally detesting her in others. She's fun, she's funny, and her weaponized pick me behavior is a unique tactic for a killer. She's one of my favorites for sure. Investigations killers specifically, there's maybe like, three that I prefer over her?
Perhaps that doesn't sound too impressive but whatever, she's still a very unique character and it's a shame she's so frequently downplayed by people who see "actual, serious character with any merit worth discussing" and "hot girl" as mutually exclusive.

WHY?

The question you (yes, YOU) have probably been asking throughout this is: why?
Why does Rhoda's development matter? What's important about Cammy acting dumb? Why do you care so much about the plane case you fcking idit, are you st*pid?
More to the point: what's the point of Turnabout Airlines? I mean, if you ask me the main point is to set up the single best use of a game mechanic in the series, perhaps its single best moment period. But is there a point besides that? So what if Rhoda and Cammy are actually incredibly deep. Anyone could write at length about a character and argue that like, Lisa Basil is actually deeply nuanced and has a reason for everything she does. But is there a reason for everything these two do, beyond making a cool airplane murder mystery?
The deeper conflict I-2 presents, beyond the murder mystery, appears to be a simple matter of hard, honest work vs the easy way out. The heroic deuteragonist readily accepts the burden of her work, while the villain is a shameless slacker. That's a basic message that I feel works fine. But I also feel it runs deeper than that, and it goes back to Cammy and Rhoda's relationship.
Every decision a writer makes is for a reason, and here, there was a deliberate choice to make Cammy and Rhoda peers. Equals, at least on paper. Both have the same struggle of others' perceptions holding them back, and the way they each cope with that is more similar than you'd think.
When the degree of separation between two characters is so small, how does the narrative justify casting one as a villain and a murderer?
Beyond the obvious, what makes Cammy the bad guy in their relationship is how she treats someone in the exact same boat as herself. It's not just that she's being mean and being mean is BAD! It's what Cammy's bullying represents.
It's one thing to exploit a system in your favor, to play up a preconceived image to make a fool of the underestimators. In that case, the victims of Cammy's deceit are wholly deserving, with their manipulation brought upon by their own failure in taking her seriously. But taking advantage of people, even those who have it coming, is dangerous. The more you start to see human beings as an asset, the harder it is to experience real empathy. Rhoda is someone Cammy should have no trouble at all finding common ground with, yet she's the one who suffers the most from Cammy's actions.
It all culminates in Cammy losing her humanity on a complete base level. Her act of murder isn't planned or calculated, but the instinctive act of someone whose perception of others has become so detatched from her own self-centered bubble, that she doesn't think twice before taking a life until it's too late.
Cammy's a pawn. She's a pawn to the smuggling ring, and she's a pawn to the system tying her down. She knows she's a pawn, and she milks her role for all its worth, satisfied in the luxuries afforded by her performance, yet painfully aware she's more than the role she plays. And, by her own will, it's a role she's stuck in.
The ouroborous of fatalism between Cammy and Rhoda is vicious. Cammy's incessant put-downs keep Rhoda from rising beyond the role of a polite, humble doormat, and that only further enables Cammy to underachieve to her heart's content. Both women operate on unhealthy, self-destructive mindsets. The difference between them being Cammy, though far from the root of the problem on her own, is a contributor all the same.
She strays from the narrow road in favor of the easy, comfortable path, eschewing solidarity in the name of her own meagre comforts. And I do mean meagre. Like I said, Cammy's only a grunt within the smuggling ring, and her shucking responsibility only marginally spares her from the disrespect of people like Lablanc. In the end, Cammy's pursuits accomplish nothing, while the one who stands her ground in the face of hardship walks away from it all with the validation she'd craved.
Maybe I'm looking too deep into the dumb plane case, but idk. While the killer is by no means sympathetic, the flashback detailing her immediate reaction to having committed the crime is more than like, Portsaman gets, so I feel like there's a degree of acknowledgement towards something deeper behind their actions. Compared to the rest of the series, I don't think it's too far of a stretch to glean this sort of reading from I-2. The concept of the systemically downtrodden perpetuating their suffering through others resurfaces in both the DGS series and this game's direct sequel. While I prefer how they handle it, I can also appreciate the grounded nature of Airlines' approach.

I Like Planes

I didn't realize it until now but the only Investigations case I like more than this one is the other plane-centric case and I think that's very funny, I doubt anyone else will but I do and that's what matters
Anyway Turnabout Airlines is a pretty cool case and I would be very happy to see it recognized as such, that's all thank you <3

I put “unmasking” in quotes because I’m not sure it’s quite the right term.
I’ve had depression forever, but don’t have any diagnosis for autism or ADHD, though it fully wouldn’t shock me if I was one or both of those.
I recently started a new job and my coworkers are so open and so completely themselves that I’ve felt myself open up and act more like what feels like “me.”
It’s helped me open up more at home, too, and it feels so good not holding back parts of myself for the sake of social acceptance (which I still struggled with pretty much all the time no matter how much I shut down).

I made a previous post sort of explaining the co-workers I have. Back story, I got assigned with a lit atty who is fairly new and is learning the ropes. The firm I work at is fairly small. The majority of ppl know each other from a previous firm or are related, just somehow connected in general. Anyways (x) person is a case manager who has been for over 4 years (quote on quote) I was promoted to case manager w/i a year that I started. I was crushing it! All on my own, from the intake to facilitating settlement , x-person even came into my office said “it’s embarrassing that you’re doing better than me” Made some organizational changes once my numbers weren’t high enough but recently moved back to a case manager for the lit atty. lit atty & x person are SUPER close. Apparently, lit atty and x person would basically talk shit about how I wasn’t doing this or that right. Ex. For a CD, we would just send it bare bones but with lit atty, he likes to add more personalization to the CD (which no body in the office never has done) I like it bc I am learning how to do so but ig he just got frustrated that I didn’t do it to their standard. Anyways,x person is the type of peep who kisses ASS bro to the upper management. I have worked under her before and we have bumped heads bc she wouldn’t want to step in as a case manager when needed! It was so frustrating. Anyways, me and lit atty had a convo yesterday & kind of talked it out. Lit atty mentioned that x person said that “she trained me on how to do tasks but would do it herself since I couldn’t do it right” I straight up told him I have NEVER done any docs for x person. I did all the grunt work he hated to do (take client calls who were upset,3P/1P calls, handle PD issues etc) he was confused but I’m glad I clarified. Anyways, I end up telling lit atty that he had a bias with x person since they know each other & that frustrates me bc I KNOW they talk shit. I told lit atty to speak to me instead of x person b/c obviously you can believe the person you know. I could have gone down to his level and tell lit atty “well, I heard that x person was lazy af from the last job, he couldn’t do this or that” but I didn’t. Idk, it just baffled me that x person would say that. Mind you, I was doing better than x person for 4-5 months before the organizational change happened! Another example was when a provider asked for PL and I asked x person if I was okay to send. Says nah but then proceeds to email them back giving the PL & cc’ing managing attorney. Like wtf. It’s small situations like that where x person wants to seem like the person who takes all the credit. It’s frustrating b/c I did all the work just for him to take credit for the $$ at the end, I know that x person hates that I have an office and honestly, it’s kind of funny. He mentioned how I would feel if I moved back to the cubicles (when I was moved back to the intake/treating person) and I say why? I would want the managing attorney to tell me, not him. He has the tendency to try to do shit around the office just for the fuck of it, like dude, worry about your damn cases. Idk. I want to say something but nah, I’d rather let my work speak for itself. It just sucks that I get the feeling that he wants me to fail , doesn’t want to see me succeed in being a CM. I feel like he deliberately does not want me to learn things so that I don’t improve. Idk, am I over thinking it? I hate how I felt after lit atty told me.

Why did the farmer visit the pharmacy? To speak with the farm-assist.
Hi and welcome to my post! Wanted to start off with a funny to me dad joke.
Nice to meet you, I'm Dylan! To put it simple, I am a single 22 year old man who has been pretty lonely in life and lacking in female connection and interaction. And part of what comes with that is the desire to be intimate with a person. I am very mature for my age and will always be respectful of your boundaries and feelings, especially with anything sexual. Lately all I have is myself when it comes to sexual desires, so I would like to have someone to keep company with in that regard too.
I'm just relaxing at work before it's time to go home and thinking about and burning a woodwick candle. Perfect for when there's a storm outside. I love candles! 🕯️ Sometimes a campfire outside on a fall night or a crackling WoodWick candle is a relaxing constant among our busy and hectic world. It's nice to just disconnect, feel grounded and happy in your own little cozy space. Feeling calm and collected and at peace. Something that fewer people take the time to do these days.
I am seeking a woman around my age or older to build a close connection with that could possibly lead to a relationship and something intimate which includes the possibility of teasing/sharing pics etc. but only when we were comfortable. Figured I would be open in my Intentions as that's the best way to be.
You:
Kind, respectful, and easy going.
Comfortable with the idea of eventually sharing intimate things together.
Willing to eventually move off of Reddit.
Want something genuine and fun!
Are honest in your intentions and a good person to be around!
That's about it, we will get along great I know it.
I've been feeling a little bummed out lately. I always try and stay happy and see the best in things. But.. I've just been so alone. Most of my whole childhood and adult years have been spent feeling lonely. I grew up surrounded by cornfields which was peaceful but also has a lonely aspect to it. My family never really were close and never did anything as a family really. And part of it too is the fact that I never had any neighbors my age to interact with. But aside from that, my adult life has been very lonely. I'm just always by myself. I barely have any meaningful adult relationships or experiences, or even any friends.
I work a 3-11 job in building maintenance at my company world headquarters building which I love, but again it's very lonely. I work the off shift so the building is always empty. I don't get normal social interaction with people my age or a chance to build relationships. I only have 3 older men as co-workers and we are mostly in the basement away from any people on the floors from knowing our existence. I always walk the floors and see office people laughing and chatting with their coworkers and I just don't have that kind of experience. And just.. no one knows I exist really. Everyone probably assumes I have a lot of friends, but I'm struggling inside with being so alone and trying to meet people and get past the "hi how are you?" "I'm good thanks" stage. Most people don't seem to want to talk beyond that. And most women are already in relationships and thus it would seem weird to approach them in an office setting trying to get to know them deeper. But man those "hi how are yous" are the only real interactions I get during my day.. so thus I decided to come here lol. Rant over, sorry! I promise I'm not a downer. 😅
Now for some things about me!
As you can tell, I am very mature for my age and am polite and have good grammar which unfortunately not everyone my age does anymore lol. I am not active at all on social media/internet culture really and don't know much about all the slang the younger people these days use. I feel like I'm 50. 🤣
I am left handed which is pretty cool. I'm not much of a party person or a drinker, I much prefer a quiet night at home and maybe a beer or two on a weekend but that's about it. I am simple and stay out of drama and trouble and don't get much into politics or other things that cause drama with people. I much prefer a relaxing campfire and a night at home and to just let the world keep on turning haha. I consider myself pretty intelligent and mature, especially for my age which is why I'm open to older ladies.
Physically I'm 180 pounds, have brown hair, green eyes, and a typical build. There's a few pictures on my profile.
Some of my hobbies are:
• Photography
I have a Nikon D200 and D5500 that I love to shoot with. I love nature scenes, abstract, black and white/goth kinda photography, sunsets, etc. it's so fun to just let your mind explore. It's not about what camera you have, but those who are behind the camera! I'm gonna try and photograph the northern lights tonight!
• Cooking and baking
I loveeee to cook and bake! I enjoy making various meals but also love to just have a frozen pizza once in awhile or something like that. I recently made homemade chili which turned out great. I love to bake, especially in the fall! I love pies, cakes, pastries, cookies, etc. I restored a vintage KitchenAid mixer that needed tbe gearbox rebuilt. Eventually I would love to practice home canning my own food.
• Music
Oh my gosh, I like so much!! Alternative rock, punk, post punk, electronic, synth pop, psychedelic rock, hard rock, etc. I am very non judgemental and open when it comes to music. My three current favorite bands are Type O Negative, Joy Division, and the Cure.
• Nature walks and camping
I really enjoy camping, making fires, and relaxing by a campfire. I love to take walks outside and just enjoy the beauty and simplicity of nature. It's wonderful, especially in a world so focused on everything digital.
• Repairing things
I'm a maintenance guy and one of my hobbies is electronics repair so I am good with my hands and just all around good at troubleshooting and fixing all sorts of things around the house. Last week I helped my elderly neighbor get his tractor started, it needed a new component in the starting circuit. So I'm pretty handy which... Comes in handy! 😂
• Autumn 🍁
This isn't a hobby per say, but man do I love the fall!!! It's my absolute favorite time of the year. Oh my gosh. The beautiful colors, crisp cool air, misty and foggy days, rain, lack of bugs, being cuddled up with a candle or by the fire drinking a tea, etc. I love it! There's only two seasons for me. Fall, and waiting for fall! Haha.
• Scented Candles and incense
Going along with my love for fall, I absolutely love candles! I have like 30 something lol. 😂 Currently my favorite are WoodWick, which are owned by Yankee candle. They have such a soothing crackle and the scents are great! I also love to burn incense from time to time as well. I have cottagecore hippie vibes.
• Old houses and architecture
I love old houses! Especially 1900s and Victorian era homes. Old homes have so much character to them and are just so beautiful from a time when people took pride in their craft. I strongly dislike the modern cookie cutter cheap construction of homes today. I would love to live in an old home one day. I also love their architecture and uniqueness, as well as architecture of old cathedrals and other buildings.
• Relaxing
Basic I know, but sometimes on the weekend I just love to get cozy in bed and relax and put on a YouTube video or an album! 😊
That's about it for me, I'm a pretty laid back and simple person. My ideal person is someone who is respectful and honest! I am very straightforward and open minded and would hope that you are as well.
If I seem interesting to you at all I would love to hear from you!
Thank you so much for reading.

So I was studying on my own for my exam. Both of them suddenly approached me,asking if they can sit with me at the table.
We ended up talking for 5-10 minutes and were laughing n stuff.felt like a normal good conversation.
Then they said "another friend will join us later so we gonna change the table now".Wishing me good luck and saying goodbye.
Funny thing is the friend didn't come hours after haha.
What ya think was that kind of a move? Did they or one of them might had interest,but changed their mind?
Maybe Im Interpretating too much into it. But I was curious what yall would say to that.

I had an interaction with a male coworker today and ever since then I’ve had this quote that Aurora said in my head.
I think she was saying something to the effect of “men do so much talking but rarely do they produce anything more than words”? I don’t think that’s the exact quote.
TIA.