High school biology dna quiz

I am a current high school Junior (international) and MIT is my dream school. My only serious accolades for this college season are one first-author conference paper (legit conference), getting top 30 in an international sustainability competition and getting top 8 in a national Olympiad. If I apply this year and get rejected, will it affect my chances next year. I was close to qualifying for my country’s IOI team, and I think I will get it next year.

Friend of mine dropped out nang di natatapos 1st sem ng 1st year college for medical and financial reasons.
Plan niya mag enroll this year to a different school.
Dapat ba mag-apply as a transferee and get some docs or things sa previous college?
Or enroll lang ulit with her senior high school credentials and not mentioning her previous college?

Hiya, 18y/o transfem here. I'm almost done with high school, and I started HRT (150mg spiro, 4mg oral E tablets) in February. Apologies if the structure of this post is hard to read, I'm kinda thinking in bullet points right now lol
After this summer is over, I'll be in college. I will also likely have a job over the summer. I have no idea what to do about this.
I have been boymoding hard, and I'm only out to my friends at my school. Hell, I've known I'm trans for over 1.5 years and still don't have a name figured out.
I think it'd be really cool to be mostly transitioned before college, but I just don't know how to approach that, or how to approach having a job and socially transitioning during it.
I think I'll be able to pass decently, especially as my HRT progresses. But I don't know what to do about the social side. I don't know if I should wear makeup everyday, and to what extent, and I have very little experience with makeup.
I haven't been voice training, and I want to keep my (somewhat deep) voice pitch but have it be more feminine (I love deep feminine voices and want to have one) but I just haven't been working on it.
I haven't gotten any new clothes, and I've just been wearing my standard "boy clothes; "pants and my standard t-shirts plus light jackets/hoodies (I wore hoodies during winter but it's getting hotter now so I've been wearing a lightweight and thin black smartwool jacket, mainly to hide my growing breasts. I made a sports bra out of some boxer brief underwear I have but that's about it. I don't think I have the confidence to wear more feminine clothing at the moment, and I'm not sure I want to because I like to present somewhat androgynously/like a tomboy.
I haven't picked out a name, I've pulled my hair out over some names, and figured out some ones I might like, but I just cant decide on one that feels like it "clicks" if that makes sense. I've been attempting to come up with desert and weather related names because I like those aesthetics a lot.
I guess I'm just overwhelmed, naive, and thoroughly stuck in my comfort zone. How do I proceed? Does it make sense to wear makeup? How do I present myself? Do I wear different clothes? Maybe buy a bra (well, I guess I gotta do that eventually lol)? How do I start voice training but while keeping a deepish pitch (I tried getting into transvoicelessons' videos but i just got lost with information)? How do I figure out a name that I like? How do I approach work while transitioning? Is it even reasonable to go mostly stealth before college, and would I need makeup to wear everyday? I guess some of this depends on what I look like, but I don't currently feel comfortable with posting pictures of myself to strangers lol
(sidenote: I'll be dorming with my friends, so I'm not too worried about
TL;DR How do I proceed to transition socially before college, and is it even possible to do so? What do I do in regards to clothing, makeup, my name, and my voice?
Any advice is appreciated, or just reading this is fine :) It does feel nice to write down these feelings at the least, lol. Thanks for reading all of this

It started with a whisper, a shiver of information that slithered through the corridors of the CIA like a cold, uninvited guest. I was a senior analyst, tasked with sifting through the static and noise of global intelligence. But this—this was different. It was 2009 when the first document crossed my desk, a classified report from the Global Access Program. The title was innocuous: “Unidentified Aerial Phenomena – Preliminary Analysis.” But the content… it was nothing short of extraordinary.
The initial report detailed sightings of craft with capabilities far beyond our own. These weren’t the erratic, drunken movements of weather balloons or the technological marvels of hostile nations. These were intelligent, deliberate maneuvers, the kind that hinted at minds far advanced from ours. It was chilling, but it was only the beginning.
As weeks turned into months, the trickle of information became a flood. Documents stamped with the highest levels of classification described encounters, recoveries, and, most disturbingly, autopsies. The recovered bodies weren’t the little green men of popular culture. They were eerily humanoid, yet undeniably otherworldly. Their skin had a silicon-like quality, translucent and tough, and their eyes—large, dark, and haunting—seemed to pierce through the veil of secrecy we so desperately tried to maintain.
I was part of a small, compartmentalized team, tasked with understanding the implications of these findings. The government’s approach was twofold: reverse-engineer the technology and determine the intentions of these visitors. But as our understanding grew, so did our fear.
One evening, after hours of staring at grainy footage of a UFO darting through the sky over a desolate military base, I received a call. The voice on the other end was panicked, speaking in hushed, frantic tones. It was one of our field operatives, stationed at a classified recovery site. They had just intercepted a transmission. It wasn’t human.
The transmission was a distress signal, but not one of desperation. It was a call to arms. These beings, it seemed, were not just explorers. They were scouts, and their mission was not benign. The transmission hinted at a hive mind, a collective consciousness that controlled these entities. They were here to assess, to probe, and to prepare. For what, we could only speculate.
Days later, another recovery operation took place. A craft was shot down over the Nevada desert, and the bodies retrieved told a horrifying story. They were connected, biologically and technologically, to this hive mind. When one entity was captured, the others knew. When one died, they all felt it. The implications were staggering. We were not just dealing with isolated visitors; we were confronting a unified front.
The more we learned, the more paranoid our superiors became. Orders came down to contain the information at all costs. Whistleblowers were silenced, dissenters disappeared. But the truth was too big to contain. The technology we recovered was decades, if not centuries, ahead of our own. Anti-gravity propulsion, energy sources that defied our understanding of physics, biological materials that healed and adapted.
And then came the darkest revelation. The autopsies revealed something even more unsettling. These beings had genetic material strikingly similar to our own. They weren’t just visitors; they were progenitors. We were their experiment, their creation. The implications shattered every paradigm we held dear. Religion, science, history—all of it was called into question.
As I sit here, penning this confession, I know my time is limited. They will come for me, as they have come for others. But the truth must be known. We are not alone, and we never have been. Our governments have hidden this from us, not out of malice, but out of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the truth, fear of the inevitable.
To you who reads this, understand this: the veil has been lifted. The shadows hold secrets that are darker and more profound than we can imagine. And the truth, once revealed, will change everything.
This is my testament. Believe it, or don’t. But know this: the world is not as it seems. The universe is vast, and we are not the apex of creation. We are but a fragment in a grand, terrifying design.
The truth is out there, waiting to be uncovered. And when it is, the world will never be the same.
The progenitors, as we came to call them, had motives far more complex and far-reaching than simple exploration or conquest. The truth unraveled slowly, like an intricate tapestry revealing a grand design. It began with fragments of intercepted communications and culminated in a terrifying, awe-inspiring understanding of our place in the universe.
The progenitors did not come from a distant star merely to observe. They were architects of life, and Earth was their grand experiment. Our planet, teeming with diverse life forms, was a controlled environment, a living laboratory designed for a singular purpose: evolution.
From the ancient texts to modern scientific discoveries, we’ve always sought answers to our origins. The progenitors provided those answers, but they came at a cost. We discovered that they seeded countless worlds, each designed to test different variables of life. Earth was unique due to its biodiversity and its potential for intelligent life.
The genetic similarities between us and the progenitors weren’t just a coincidence. They were deliberate. By seeding their own DNA into the primordial soup of Earth, they ensured a certain path of evolution. Our intelligence, our creativity, our very civilization were results of their intricate design. We were, quite literally, their children, bred and cultivated to reach a specific level of advancement.
But why? The reasons were as complex as they were chilling. The progenitors were not just scientists; they were facing an existential crisis. Their civilization, once spanning galaxies, was in decline. They needed a solution to prevent their extinction, and their answer was found in genetic diversity and adaptability.
Earth and its human inhabitants were part of a grander scheme: to evolve a species capable of assimilating their consciousness, their essence, into a new form. Our rapid technological advancement was not just a natural progression but was subtly influenced to accelerate our development. They needed us to reach a level where we could understand and perhaps even merge with their advanced consciousness.
We learned through decrypted communications and rare encounters that the progenitors were a hive mind, an interconnected collective consciousness. Over millennia, they had lost individuality, becoming a singular entity spread across countless biological hosts. This form of existence had its limits, and they sought to evolve beyond those constraints. They aimed to create a hybrid species—humans with the potential to host their collective consciousness.
This wasn’t just about survival; it was about transcendence. By merging with us, they hoped to achieve a new state of being, combining their ancient wisdom and collective power with our adaptability and creativity. We were to be the vessels for their next evolution.
However, this plan wasn’t without resistance. Among the progenitors, there were factions. Some believed in the purity of their collective consciousness, resisting the idea of merging with what they considered lesser beings. These internal conflicts spilled over into their actions on Earth, leading to sporadic yet significant interventions in our history.
As our understanding grew, so did the dread. The government’s attempts to contain this knowledge were born out of sheer terror. How could they explain to the world that we were bred for a purpose beyond our control? That our creators intended to use us to save themselves?
The intercepted transmissions became increasingly desperate. The progenitors’ time was running out, and their interest in Earth intensified. Reports of sightings and encounters surged. The military engaged in numerous clandestine operations to intercept and study these beings, leading to an underground war of sorts.
And then came the ultimate revelation: the progenitors were already among us. Their advanced technology allowed them to blend in, to influence, and to manipulate. The rise and fall of civilizations, the sudden leaps in technology, the inexplicable events in history—they were all part of the progenitors’ intricate plan to guide us towards the inevitable merging.
The truth, when finally pieced together, was more than earth-shattering. It was paradigm-shattering. We were not alone, nor were we masters of our fate. We were pawns in a cosmic game, engineered for a destiny we had yet to fully comprehend. The progenitors, our creators, were not gods but beings driven by survival and evolution, using us as their means to an end.
As I document this, I know the implications are beyond comprehension. The world must know, not to incite fear, but to understand. We stand at the brink of an unprecedented revelation, one that will redefine our existence and our place in the universe.
This is the truth, unfiltered and unvarnished. We are the progeny of ancient architects, part of a grand design stretching across the stars. Our future is intertwined with theirs, and the choices we make now will determine the fate of both our species.

I have a marching baritone that's borrowed for the summer and while oiling and greasing it I was unable to unscrew the 1st and 3rd valves and couldn't move the 2nd and 3rd valve slides. (It doesn't help that the "nib" seems to be broken off on the 2nd slide)
A few years ago in high school I had a similar problem with unscrewing a valve and ended up using pliers to get it loose. Unbeknownst to me it warped the threading and caused the valve to grind against the casing until I sent it to get repaired a few weeks before my last concert.
Not wanting a repeat of the last fiasco, is there any other way to get valves or slides loose? I'm not sure if I can send it in to a repair shop in time since I have a week before I have to leave.

Now listen up you motherfuckers - I want a movie that has a bunch of high strung people aggressively berating each other!
Don't you give me shit I can Google myself! Who taught you how to answer a question? I'm gonna go to your grade school teacher and tell them they didn't put you far enough behind in the back of the bus!

I am 18 and a few months I did an ancestry DNA test to see if my dad was my father. It came back and he was 100% my father I was relieved and decided to play around in the app. When I found the family tree, I wasn't too interested my dad had done his a few years ago and got really into building his family tree so I thought I had heard all the shocking secrets and surprise family members. It took my dad a while to realize what I had done and when he did, we had a long talk about how he would have loved me no matter what it said, and I told him the same. a few days later he sat me down for a serious talk about my biological mother someone we hadn't spoken to or about in years. Thats when he told me my mother is legally my aunt my father's first cousin. he told me his aunt was not biologically related to my family she was illegally adopted as a baby. He also told me my biological mother wasn't even her kid her husband got a 15yo pregnant while in a war and she signed the birth certificate as the mom. So, on paper they are blood relatives. They grew up together and I don't know when they found out they weren't related by blood, but I do know they never planned to get married or have kids together my dad said that the only reason anything went anywhere is because they got drunk and made my brother. My dad decided to do what he thought he had to get married to a woman he had no romantic feelings for and have more kids. I don't know how to process this, and I don't know who to talk to about it. I have no clue who knows about this, and it doesn't make any sense for 18 years I thought that both sides of my family were horrible but it's all the same side. At least now I know why my dad always told us to just leave our biological mother off our family trees in elementary school.

Hi. I had psoriasis when I was in high school (2012). The intense flares are gone now but there are still small to medium flares triggered by stress, diet, or weather.
My question is, the intense flares I got in 2012 left dark marks on my legs and arms, does anyone experienced the same? If so, did you find any medication that will help?
I tried going to the derma, tried multiple lasers, creams, but nothing seems to be working. Hope you could help me. Thank you!

I am self diagnosed-ish, trying to get a professional diagnosis. My PCP is all but certain I have ASD and she delivered me when I was born so she’s been my PCP for 22 years. She brought it up to my parents once when I was a kid but thanks to that great immigrant “no mental health issues” mentality they have, it was ignored and never brought up again.
Then I was excelling in school. In 8th grade I had these tics one day, my friend had just passed and I was still trucking on. I flung a pencil during one of them and hurt someone else. The school made my dad take me to the ER, he was told stress, anxiety and see someone about it. But nothing. Then I was excelling in my first full time job as a parapro for a STAR classroom. As a kid I volunteered in these classes a lot, my mom even taught one. Yeah, taught one. The adults were awful, but I was used to that. I started having meltdowns from overstimulation. At this point, I’d moved out and was living with my now husband, I was in a safe place for the first time in my life. I didn’t understand what my body was doing and why my brain was doing what it did. And then I was regressing. A lot and quickly. And now I’m realizing my entire life has been this huge lie. I come from a traumatic household, but have always been highly aware of it and have managed to process it myself. A year of talk therapy got me told “talk therapy doesn’t work for you, you have it all figured out.”
And I started a relationship pre-regression. I made friends pre-regression. Now I feel alone. My husband doesn’t understand really, he tries and all the time we’re growing together and he’s learning more and more about me and how to help me. But I have a lot of needs and I know I take up a lot of space in our lives because of it and so it feels like when I’m pushing through, knowing it’ll end in a complete meltdown, people are attentive, him included because I’m being helpful. But then I really need help, because I’ve been so focused on everyone else I need someone to focus on me. But there isn’t anyone to be attentive toward me. I feel like I’m treated like a burden when I really need the assistance.
I know I need to be the one to focus on me, but how do I do that? When people have surgeries and shitty husbands and need care, people have problems and ask for my help and I can help them. My brother is having a hard time at school. My husband works to support us because I can barely handle 14 hours a week. He met me when I worked three jobs, when I was surviving my childhood household. He fell in love with me because of my ambition and now I’m a dependent.
I’ve been battling myself to accept that I’m disabled. That before, that wasn’t me. That was a shell. I was a body. But now I have no clue who I am and it’s becoming terrifying. I feel like if I can’t just bounce back soon I’ll lose everything. Or someday I’ll become too much and just get abandoned.
I feel like my body and my brain are disconnected, I feel like I’ve got no hope. Like a diagnosis will never come, help will never be found. I just needed to speak at a community I knew would understand.
Thanks.

I will try to make this short so that maybe more people will read. I am 25m about to turn 26 currently living with my mom, and working as a line cook at a corporate diner (in a shift lead position) I have wasted all my years since graduating high school because of mental health issues, stupidity, and laziness. However, in that time I have been able to save 135,000 dollars. I also served in the army for two years but was medically discharged. Becasue of this I have access to GI bill benefits (VA will pay for school), so I am thinking of going to college, because I want a career that can provide me enough money and stability to live on my own comfortably. I can't rely on my poor mother forever.
I am obviously feeling VERY behind in life. I know I am still in my twenties, but it seems like employers will start to look down on people who are 30 and just barely graduated college and are looking for a career. It seems like they would ask "wtf have you been doing for the past 10 years?" So, I am trying to find a path that would be the most efficient and effective for my goals. I don't want to waste anymore time. I have been debating a degree in either information systems or enviromental engineering. I think I would be more interested in enviromental engineering, but information systems seems to be better paying and more growth projected in the next 10 years as far as new jobs. But I am terrified of graduating and not being able to find a good job. Then I will be 30 ( or older), my savings will be eaten into as a result of having to live on my own and getting through school, and I will feel even worse than I do now. I have been suicidal three times in my life and it is a terrible feeling I'm working hard to avoid feeling again.
In short, if you were trying to find a good career efficiently as possible, is college the best option? Or something else? If you have access to free college should you just do it anyways?
Thank you in advance anyone who responds.

Hey! I am an international student Deaf low-income, first-generation college student, I could not afford the help of paid mentorships, but if any of you got accepted to top universities with full-ride scholarships could help me through the journey with your mentoring.
If you are interested in this opportunity, please contact me privately. I am willing to provide a detailed letter of self-introduction with my high school transcripts, and TOEFL transcripts SAT. My goal is to apply for a full scholarship to a top private university
I need someone with whom I can discuss and share my plans and ideas for this application cycle, need full counseling, and all subsequent communication can be done with pen and paper, I mainly need counseling on application strategy, school selection, main documents, supplementary documents List of activities
With one move to help me fulfill my MIT dream, I will give it my best shot, and through my hard work and your guidance, I will be able to realize my dream and open up a brand new future.

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Hi everyone.
My name is Isaac. I am 26 years old and I live in Frankston, Victoria.
For almost the past decade (ever since leaving high school), I have gone back and forth between being employed in work and job hunting both in person and online and I am honestly so sick of it. It has severely impacted my mental health when 95% or more of the jobs that you apply for you either never hear back from or if you do, you are just told that you were unsuccessful with no reason given as to why. It really makes you feel like you are worthless and they don;t even give you any constructive criticism as to what you can do to improve for the next job that you go for. And somehow, doing it is even worse in person when you physically hand someone a resume, then turn around as you're leaving the store to watch them literally throw it in the garbage.
As far as the jobs I HAVE had in the last 10 years, I have done everything from call center work to delivery driving to factory work to a little bit of retail and tons of other stuff that I can't even think of right now.
Those were just the jobs that I had though. As far as what I specialize in, my last two jobs were working for Telstra selling phones and mobile/internet plans in an actual store and Aussie Broadband in their Residential Customer Service department. I was let go from Telstra after 6 months because I wasn't meeting their incredibly unrealistic KPI's for such a tiny store and I voluntarily left Aussie because several of my supervisors and managers there were not treating me very well. I did actually enjoy doing both jobs however as it was in a field and an area that I actually have an interest in, that being the internet and technology in general.
As for what I want to do next, I recently applied for a job as a field service technician for the NBN doing Fibre to the Premises upgrades in peoples homes which I already know alot about as I dealt with the NBN pretty much on a daily basis both at Telstra and Aussie Broadband.
Just a little bit about me personally though, I do happen to have Asperger's Syndrome and ADHD. I was diagnosed with both in my early primary school years and even though the conditions affected me far more and worse in my primary and high school years, it doesn't as much anymore, although it still does occasionally. I still do suffer from anxiety and depression every now and then and have the odd panic attack here and there too. I am not medicated for it the way I used to be when I was in school because I feel like I can fight it on my own with regular therapy sessions. I also did not like who I was when I was heavily dosed on so much medication. It turned me into a zombie like robot and took away everything that made me who I am as a person.
Because of this, I also have to be linked with a disability employment agency and I have been through so many of them in the last 10 years as well and the majority of them are garbage who don't care about you at all and just see you as a number, not a person. All they care about is getting you into any random job as quickly as they can without worrying about if its actually suitable for you or if you'll just be gone from there in a month or two.
I also have a physical medical condition where I had to have an operation to repair a serious hernia that I had. The operation was just over a year ago and while I am pretty much fully recovered from it now, it has started to come back, meaning that I will have to have another surgery in a few years, depending on how long it takes for it to fully return. It's only had a partial resurgence so far. This means that I can't do any physically demanding job (like a trade for example) that would only increase the rate at which the hernia comes back fully.
So why am I writing this? Basically, I have honestly tried everything that I can to try and find long term employment in a job and an area where I can grow my skills, meet new people and have financial security and independence. So I am appealing to my community to see if anyone can help me. If anyone is hiring or knows someone who is hiring who is looking for someone like me in an area that would suit me. If you do, please get in touch with me by messaging me directly on Reddit through the DM feature and if you have something for me, we can exchange more private contact details and go from there.
Thank you for taking the time to read all of this if you made it this far. I really appreciate it.

I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.

if i take 4 high school classes in 8th grade, and fail them all due to attendance and something that came up, will that look bad and ruin chances of ivy league, or will passing scores and those classes next year help saturate that

I (29F) have been with my husband (34M) for 13 years; married for almost 6 of those years.
For context. We were high school sweethearts kinda of. I was still in high school and we met at my first job. He’s been my first and only relationship, and I was his first real relationship.
We both come from toxic & emotionally abusive family backgrounds, and have worked really hard to break generational habits.
I find myself in the last couple of years really wondering why we are together. He is a good man. He has never hit me and never yelled at me. But sometimes I truly don’t know why we are together. I often think we stayed together when we were younger to escape our parents’ homes. As adults, we have fallen into the sexless marriage category. We don’t have kids. We don’t want kids. But it’s like we’re simply room mates. I have thought about divorce. But to be honest. I can’t afford to live on my own, and I dread the idea of the work it would take to separate our lives.
I have been in therapy for years but due to recent insurance changes can not afford it at the moment. I don’t feel appreciated or loved in the relationship. I have come to realize that we are so different and see things in a different way.
There’s so much of a history that I could write a book on the things I feel and what I wish could be different. In a lot of ways I have closed myself to people and accepted that I will be in a passion less marriage for the rest of my life.
TL: DR- Would you stay in a passionless marriage for financial security? Do the majority of people feel this way? Is it too much of a fantasy to think that there are marriages where people are truly happy? Are we too far gone to fix it?
Thanks for being my therapist for the moment.

I’m 19.
My high school boyfriend (dated December 2021-March 2022) looked something like this: https://www.instagram.com/p/C7I7r3AOAo-/?igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==
I am actually not attracted to my high school boyfriend anymore, though I remember when he first pulled down his mask I was quite attracted to him.
This was the person I was probably the most attracted to, like staring in the hallways kind of attracted, and was commonly considered attractive even though I don’t really live around black people:
https://www.instagram.com/p/C7I7haSuoRF/?igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==
I also think the guy in The Beach Boys videos is particularly attractive, in addition to the bully from the film “moonlight.”
I find both the dark skinned boy and the light skinned girl holding the phone to be attractive people (or at least the dark skinned boy is someone I’d gladly go out with if I liked his personality, not unattractive to me): https://www.instagram.com/p/C7I70D8Oqyg/?igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==
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