Hello, I am a researcher at an institution in the West, and I have had a series of astonishing encounters with people from India. To be clear, I do not aim to generalize the entire Indian population; however, I have yet to meet someone from India who acts differently.
Here is the tale:

1. We had a conference last year. One of the panel members, a head of a very prominent intergovernmental institution with a global scale, has a solid record and a long list of publications. After the conference, a person from India who has no publications and no research experience condescendingly called her "an idiot."
   
2. The research environment, like other work environments, is fraught with deadlines and tasks. We manage tasks and deliver like other professionals. In this context, a person from India decided to inform my boss, who is not her boss, that I have been struggling without my knowledge. The said Indian person did not tell me any of this for almost three weeks. She also did not bother to inquire how I have been in those span of time. When I confronted her about the violations and betrayal, there was no remorse or apology at breaching my privacy. Instead, she claimed that I am cynical of her intent.
   
3. Another person from India plagiarized a colleague's writing.
   
4. I recently met an Indian man who claimed expertise on certain subject matters, would not let me speak, and lectured me on mansplaining. The funny thing is, when I looked at his research publications, which could have been an indicator of expertise, I was appalled to find that he has none. The audacity.
   
5. An Indian woman was in a relationship with a senior researcher. She cheated on him in his house, and he found the evidence (i.e. used cond**). When he confronted her, she lied. They broke up, and he asked her to leave his house. She eventually found a new place, but the faucet was broken. Despite the betrayal and lies, she chose to call him and asked for help.
   

There are plenty of stories about this behavior among Indians, linking it to a lack of education; however, I must point out that all these Indians are highly educated. Culture would be a lame excuse too unless a lack of awareness is simply, well, a normative practice. So, what gives?

Hello, I am a researcher at an institution in the West, and I have had a series of astonishing encounters with people from India. To be clear, I do not aim to generalize the entire Indian population; however, I have yet to meet someone from India who acts differently.
Here is the tale:

1. We had a conference last year. One of the panel members, a head of a very prominent intergovernmental institution with a global scale, has a solid record and a long list of publications. After the conference, a person from India who has no publications and no research experience condescendingly called her "an idiot."
   
2. The research environment, like other work environments, is fraught with deadlines and tasks. We manage tasks and deliver like other professionals. In this context, a person from India decided to inform my boss, who is not her boss, that I have been struggling without my knowledge. The said Indian person did not tell me any of this for almost three weeks. She also did not bother to inquire how I have been in those span of time. When I confronted her about the violations and betrayal, there was no remorse or apology at breaching my privacy. Instead, she claimed that I am cynical of her intent.
   
3. Another person from India plagiarized a colleague's writing.
   
4. I recently met an Indian man who claimed expertise on certain subject matters, would not let me speak, and lectured me on mansplaining. The funny thing is, when I looked at his research publications, which could have been an indicator of expertise, I was appalled to find that he has none. The audacity.
   
5. An Indian woman was in a relationship with a senior researcher. She cheated on him in his house, and he found the evidence (i.e. used cond**). When he confronted her, she lied. They broke up, and he asked her to leave his house. She eventually found a new place, but the faucet was broken. Despite the betrayal and lies, she chose to call him and asked for help.
   

There are plenty of stories about this behavior among Indians, linking it to a lack of education; however, I must point out that all these Indians are highly educated. Culture would be a lame excuse too unless a lack of awareness is simply, well, a normative practice. So, what gives?

Bud be gone 16 years later this month. Don’t hardly seem possible. Still remember him as if I just saw and spoke to him yesterday. The way of it. Miss him a lot, and so does Momma. Also the way of it. Get to thinking about him a lot this time each year.
Not as raw and brutal as it used to be. Had some dark days for both of us for quite a while. Again, the way of it. But acceptance comes eventually, when there’s no other choice.
I try to console myself that he lived life large in the 21 years he had - didn’t waste ‘em. Got to see and do places and things that comparatively few do. Was involved in things he felt were important.
I loved him dearly, and was admiring and proud of the man he’d become. And I told him so quite often. Advice from someone who’d not always as bright as he might be, but who nevertheless understands some basic things: say what Should be said when you have the chance. The words are important, even if they already know. Don’t, and the day might come when it’s now too late to.
He was the wild one of our brood - seems like every family has one. Not troublesome in any way for Momma and me. He asked me a serious question once, when he was 16: “Dad, you and Mom hardly ever whipped us when we were kids. How come?”
And my answer a simple one: “We didn’t need to. You were good kids.” He’d thought that over, and nodded his acceptance.
A disciplinary problem aboard his ship sometimes, though, and this didn’t surprise either of us. A different world with different rules. And he never accepted insult from anyone from the time he was small - just not in his nature. Push, and he’d push back.
But by every account we heard, very serious and disciplined when it came to his job. This didn’t surprise us, either. His primary rating Firefighter aboard ship, he’d often complain that the training wasn’t Realistic enough. To the extent that a superior had remarked once in exasperation: “Well, we can’t set the damn ship on fire for you, Bud!”
Well-known and liked throughout the crew, he was something of a minor legend among them. Famous (or infamous - take your pick) for the situations he got himself into to the point that after a while, anyone in trouble beyond the usual was referred to as having “Pulled a Bud.”
Fighting several members of Shore Patrol on one memorable occasion: “It took six of ‘em to get him under control and back to the ship, Mr. OP.” A friend.
With several members of the local PD on an even more memorable one, when he took offense at the treatment of a shipmate.
He’d paid for that one on the way to and at the station. Being thrown headlong down a set of cement stairs with his hands still cuffed behind his back he figured he’d had coming. Ditto with then being picked up and rammed headfirst into a cinder block wall.
Being stripped naked, tossed in a cell, and having a fire hose turned on him every hour on the hour all night he’d objected to: “That shit was Cold, Pop! And it was fucking unnecessary! I catch any of ‘em out alone, I got somethin’ for their ass!”
“You gotta stop this shit, Bud.”
“……Sigh…I know. Do me a favor - don’t tell Mom?”
“I don’t intend to.”
“……Pop?”
“Yeah?”
“Captain says the same thing. Says this is my last chance…….Why’s he giving me another chance, after all the trouble I’ve caused?”
“Because he sees something in you he wants to keep - something of value to the ship. You can be counted on to do your job, no matter what. That carries a lot of weight in the civilian world - more so in the military.”
“…..You think so?”
“I know so.”
One of the last conversations, and over the phone, we’d ever have.
An old Chief remarked to us: “Bud was a throwback. He reminded me of the fighting Sailors of my own youth. I hadn’t met another quite like him in a good many years. He’ll be missed.”
His Captain remarked to me: “He turned it around, Mr. OP. It was as if he made a decision. There wasn’t another single incident of insubordination or anything else. In all my years of service, I’ve never seen anyone do so complete a 180. He’d made his mind up, and that was that. But I guess I don’t have to tell you that. He was actually due for promotion. Did you know that?”
I had. Bud had told me he’d studied for and passed the test. Perfect score, or near enough. He’d broken his hand at the time. A timed test, and his writing hand, he’d been afraid the cast would slow him down too much, so he’d cut it off and gone to get it redone afterward.
Last time I spoke to him, he had some shipmates were in Galveston during Mardi Gras. Out on the promenade. Sounds of revelry in the background. Shakedown cruise in preparation for another deployment.
Presently, to his impatient shipmates: “Just give me a damn minute, all right?! Listen, I guess I better go. Love you, Pop. And tell Mom that for me when she gets home, ok?”
“I will. Love you, too, Bud.”
Good last words to remember, I guess.
All through the days and nights we’d spent in the hospital, waiting, and hoping against hope, Momma and I hadn’t been alone. My brothers were there with us, having driven in from out of state. My sister. Mother.
And his crew. Day and night, young men and women waiting with us in great numbers. Lying sleeping on the floor against the walls lining the corridors, when all other spaces had been taken. None of the hospital staff asking them to leave.
Ship’s Officers and senior Enlisted spending as much time there as presentations for deployment would permit. Checking in in person with us and hospital staff about his condition at least once a day.
And nearly all of them with a story or two to tell about Bud. Many of them funny. For that was who he was, too. He could always make people laugh. Someone being down in his presence he couldn’t abide, and he always knew how to fix that.
It was as if they Needed to. And that Momma and I understood, as well. We’d known him all his life, and we could see that they knew him, too. So we were patient, and we listened.
The day finally came when we were told there was no longer any hope at all. He’d never regained consciousness, and now there was no more brain activity at all. He was gone.
His XO was there with us when we were told, and that large, strong man wept bitterly and unashamedly. I think that probably doesn’t happen often.
Momma and I were alone the next day, in a seated waiting area next to the elevators. Waiting, just the two of us, not speaking much. Everyone had given us that space to ourselves. Sensed that we needed it, I suppose.
The first man arriving with a refrigerated transport case arrived, and took the elevator down. He seemed in a hurry. A man who desperately needed Bud’s strong heart was waiting, and time was of the essence.
Momma and I watched the doors close behind him. Then we both got up, and hand in hand, walked away. It was finished now. The book of his life was closed, though in a sense it never would be.
A few months previous, he’d registered as an organ donor. His choice.
His heart went to a 31-yr-old man in need of a new one.
A young woman in North Dakota sees through his eyes.
Many others were helped, as well. His parting gifts.
Talking to the coordinator of the donor program at the hospital at a later date, I was informed that the man’s new heart was functioning perfectly. He had, in fact, been going to the gym and hitting the weights. Something he’d had no interest in before.
“Lifting and bodybuilding were some of Bud’s passions” I replied.
“I’ve been doing this for a long time” the man had replied in kind. “And you’d be astonished at how many times something like that happens; the recipient unknowingly taking on attributes of the donor. No one can explain it.”

• Gender: Male
• Age: 21
• Height & Weight: 5' 10", 52 kg
• Marital status: Single
• Education: Junior year (senior starting soon In sha Allah)
• Profession: Freelancer
• Hobbies: Bollywood rom-coms, listening to Alex Hormonzi and other business peeps, shooting
• Do you want kids? In sha Allah, but after 3-5 years. Not mature enough rn
• Religion: Sunni
• Deal breakers:
  • Can't accept she's wrong, can't take criticism, avoids conflicts
  • Anger issues
  • Doesn't care about halal/haram (income in particular)
  • Narcissist
  • Has a public acc and posts herself for the world to see (music on top)
  • Doesn't care about hurting other people, selfish
  • Wants a grand wedding
• Interesting facts about you:
  
  • I've been freelancing since I was 18. Because of my demanding degree, couldn't give much attention to freelancing (altho I've always been trying) toh even now, I only make about 60-80k (alhamdulillah, that is also decent)
  • Alhamdulillah, Allah has gifted me in many areas (1% IQ: part of Mensa Society, academically, and whatnot
  • I've always been paranoid about my income (halal or haram). Had to let go of a client, even though uss cheez par fatwa hai but mera dil nahi maanta
  • Always trying to improve myself. Take criticism very positively. Can resolve conflicts and have difficult conversations with ease
  • Extremely high on values and integrity
  • Workaholic (but I'm trying to change that)
• City: Islamabad
  
• Residence (Own/Rented): Government residence
  
• Family details:
  
  • Father is a civil servant (alhamdulillah, never took a single rupee under the table. If anything, took initiatives to counter this)
  • Mother is a housewife
• Joint/nuclear: Joint (only parents, sister is married)
  
• Requirements:
  
  • 20-22
  • Couldn't care less about caste, height and all these things
  • Doesn't want to work after marriage (unless needed or WFH)
  • Aur please yar thori si funny bhi hona 😔
• Expectations from the partner:
  
  • Supports me emotionally
  • Will handle housework (unless you're studying or working)
  • Will be a catalyst for us to get on deen
• Timeframe in which you want to marry: 6-8 months (would prefer nikkah + no rukhsuti for now since I'm not exactly financially stable)
  

PS: If you're interested, please DM me. I'd prefer to take this off Reddit, and ideally meet you (you can bring a mehram or someone else).

I am 20F. So I have been diagnosed with POTS and recently learned about PEM. Suddenly some things made sense: the random times my lymph nodes on my neck swell up and my throat hurts are probably actually just PEM. It literally feels like the flu- body aches and all. I have even ran a fever with it before. I also meet all the criteria for EDS.
For years now I have went through these random phases where I just CANT sleep enough. I constantly will wake up tired and I slept through so much of my senior year of high school it’s not even funny. Yes I worked and took dual credit classes but no matter what I was exhausted. I don’t do this too often but when it happens it is so hard. My joints already hurt all the time so, I just figured it was EDS. I have also been diagnosed with ADHD but now I am second guessing it. I was diagnosed with the inattentive kind, (what used to be called ADD) but it’s mainly forgetfulness, brain fog, trouble staying focused, etc.
All the comorbidities for EDS and POTS also run in my family. Such as GERD, ASD, Arthritis, MCAS, ADHD, etc. Not looking for a diagnosis, I just don’t know much about this!

now senior so i thought id take a look back. most TFs or lab instructors missing bc i don't remember them and never attended most office hours.
Courtney Martin - FY101 freshman fall. utterly useless class (was an undeclared major so took it hoping to get some guidance, basically got nothing out of it.) very chill instructor though, no issues there, just waste of time.
Scott Possiel - WR120 freshman fall and WR152 freshman spring, grad student teacher. pretty chill and class was interesting (mediterranean religion [roman religions]), learned strong amount about writing. no complaints, hope he's on to great things.
Alexander Nikolaev - CL/208LX208 freshman fall. awesome class on zoom, funny and knowledgeable dude, learned so much about about indo-european linguistics, and sparked basically all my interest about linguistics. assignments were fun and refreshing. one of my favorite professors at BU despite only having had one class with him, unfortunately he disappeared (left?) after 2020 and I have no idea why, nor did any of my classmates. lucky to have had his last BU class in first semester of freshman year.
Christine Papadakis - CS112 freshman fall. her ratemyprofessor 1.9 score says enough, bad at explaining topics, strange class vibes, pretty unhelpful. seems like a nice person though. main reason i did not continue with compsci after 1 semester at BU, class wasn't too difficult (got B+ and could have done better if i tried harder) but it was so utterly boring it was the dread of every week and genuinely difficult to find any will to do work for it. lectures were insufferably boring, especially on replay when studying. avoid her at all costs.
Edward Loechler - first half of BI107 freshman fall, BI108 freshman spring? (i remember him and spilios teaching some class together or two part or something). chill old man vibes, class was solid and well taught. don't remember anything else except no issues. recommend.
Kathryn Spilios - second half of BI107 freshman fall. chill professor, class was solid and well taught. don't remember anything else except no issues. recommend.
Leah Kronenberg - CL102 freshman spring. awesome professor, very kind and good at teaching. recommend
thomas keyes - CH101 freshman spring. worst professor i had in all of BU hands down. so utterly useless and incompetent his syllabus was barely even divided into paragraphs, just a spam wall of text. lectures monotonous and uninteresting, bad at answering questions, mean to students, generally seemed like he was on the verge of suicide or homicide or both at any given moment. thankfully he retired so i do not have to say avoid him at all costs.
special shoutout to Alyssa Kranc - TF for CH101, grad student. actual angel sent from heaven to guide the class thru the horror that was CH101 with thomas keyes. great at explanations, patient, and brought good vibes. i actually really liked chemistry and it was only thru Alyssa's help and lab review meeting things that I learned anything in this class and got an A. Hope she is onto greater things and epic research.
jane x. luu - AS102 sophomore fall. chill professor, kinda made class easier as time went along when she realized nobody really gave a shit about the subject and was just there for hub or get chance to look thru telescope. actually discovered some really awesome things in her research (the kuiper belt). was visiting professor so dont think she'll be back.
brandon jones - CL101 sophomore fall. awesome professor, good lectures, chill guy. recommend.
john thornton - HI175 sophomore fall. boringest history lecturer ive ever had, quiet so had to sit in the front to even hear him (maybe cuz covid masks everything was quieter). chill guy, easy class, probably cooler to talk to at office hours than for survey history class. recommend.
cathal nolan - HI284 sophomore fall. Lowkey kinda pompous guy, but classes were always insightful and really felt like attending a speech notsomuch a lecture. history of war class was one of the few classes where i felt like i really gained wisdom and not just knowledge, but also fell short of my expectations at the same time if that makes sense. pretty easy if you like history / are good at writing. needs to learn how to use slides though lol, windows photo app on USB stick photos can only last so long. recommend.
Christopher McMullen - FY102 sophomore spring. genuinely do not remember a single thing about this class or professor. pretty sure we unironically did a meyers personality test thing, hilarious waste of time. or that was in FY101.
hannah culik - CL237 sophomore spring. very kind professor, learned a lot in the class. 0 official dealines so u can turn in everything late but i do not recommend leaving it all to the last minute. pretty political charged, but i think in an engaging way. she left BU but i would recommend if she were still here.
simon payaslian - HI176 sophomore spring. felt like high school class but i guess that's how history survey courses go. chill dude, kinda tough grader? dumb assignments. average lecturer. recommend.
bruce schulman - HI231 sophomore spring. very kind professor, i turned in my final research paper like a week late LMFAO and he still accepted it (with some completely justified points off for lateness of course). good lecturer. recommend.
Christopher Daly - HI231 sophomore spring. kind professor chill lecturer some course as schulman (double professors). retired, otherwise would recommend.
Alexis Peri - HI200 sophomore spring, HI272 junior fall - one of the best professors at BU hands down. kind but pushes you to truly learn. writing excelled under her and i felt i improved my overall skills as a student / scholar in every way. she grades easier as class goes on. genuinely proud to have achieved in A in both her courses, pushed myself to get there. maybe a bit too much class discussion for my tastes though, i don't really enjoy sharing out. recommend.
shoutout to Margot Rashba, TF for HI272. helpful explainer since I couldn't go to professor Peri's office hours due to time conflict. hope she is onto great things.
clifford Backman - HI101 junior fall. chill professor, class pretty boring but funny lecturer. completely ghosted my email sent in next semester discussing my idea for senior thesis lol, and wasn't at the office hours listed on website, idk what happened. apparently went on leave after some controversy regarding speech. so yeah lol. recommend.
Stephanie Nelson - CL161 junior fall. awesome professor, kind and fun class. recommend
Timothy Clark - CL162 junior spring, CL322 disorganized and seems like he didn't really care about the class tbh, but overall chill guy. really likes parthia and didn't really care about Rome at all. dumb assignments at times, but he did have no issue with me consistently missing a language class day to to schedule conflict without issue, which I appreciated. don't recommend.
eugenio menegon - HI363 senior fall. hard to explain but going to class just felt... uncomfortable every time? does lot of cold-calling. lecture was kinda boring, didn't learn very much, felt more like a high school survey class of china than a 300 level class on ancient China. covers way too long a time period in too little detail. dude seems pretty chill though don't recomment.
christopher ell - CL300 senior fall. very boring lecturer but he clearly does try to make it funny, which is appreciated. chill guy, some leniency on scheduling and assignments, very clear about all his instructions and overall taught well. very fair and no conflicts at all. enjoyed his class. recommend.
spiridon-iosif capotos - CL261 senior fall, grad student teacher. hilarious, deadpan dry humor. fun class, learned a lot of greek, hope he is onto great things. recommend
simon anderson - SY101 senior spring. chill guy, class not the most useful but was alright. not really that indepth, prob waste of time could've learned everything reading online guides. instructor was fine though, no issues.
hannah kloster - CL262 senior spring, grad student teacher. awesome and kind instructor, very fun class, learned a lot despite having no interest in Greek poetry. hope she is onto great things. recommend.
jilene chua - HI500 senior spring. very kind professor, chill class and great vibes, but too much discussion for my taste. new professor to BU, had her on her second or third semester teaching as professor ever (i think); class was kinda unorganized or ad hoc at times. will only get better as time goes on. recommend.
stephen scully - hi406 senior spring. no interest in the subject (iliad translations) when i joined class and minimal interest in the subject as I leave the class (and BU). chill professor, but grades harshly and requires a lot of writing. cold calls often. class was also quite unorganized for entire first half. in terms of material, honestly a lot of stuff in class felt quite arbitrary in understanding (as is probably the case with most literature classes, which i did not take outside of this). recommend if you really love classical literature / mythology / philology (or anything humanities), don't recommend for classical history (or anything social sciences).
Rui Hua - HI364 junior fall, HI370 junior spring, HI553 senior fall. the most energetic, fun, chill professor i've had at BU, every lecture was a blast and even if i went to class in a bad mood it was impossible to leave without a smile on my face. took us on field trips to relevant destinations when possible. I had the first 3 classes he's ever taught as a professor ever (I think), and it definitely showed bc they were somewhat unorganized or ad hoc. but i am sure his teaching will only get better as time progresses, learned a lot and had a great time in all his classes, he does cover some overlapping material in them so if u take them u might repeat some stuff. also super lenient on deadlines but i do not encourage delaying all of them to the last minute as I did like an idiot. easy classes overall, but if you like the subject he definitely is encouraging for those who want to learn more. recommend.
Loren J. Samons - CL321 junior fall, CL303 junior spring, CL202 senior spring. best professor i've ever had at BU, hilarious, funnest lectures of all time, learned so much, and brings so much old man sardonic energy to every class. CL303 fall of roman empire another class where I felt I genuinely attained wisdom and not just knowledge. assigned readings are some of the few I actually did. class might be difficult if not ur a good writer / not a social sciences person, but u'll definitely improve if you take the effort to do so, otherwise easy class got As in all of them. very straightforward. recommend.
feel free to ask individual questions about any of these professors / instructors in comments.

I’m in college. I just finished out my first year, and things went really well. I was elected to an executive position for this club that’s really good for me socially, academically, and career-wise. This other girl in the club also got elected and I have a massive crush on her.
She’s going to be a college senior next year whereas I’ll be a sophomore, and I’m not sure how she would feel about that age gap.
I developed a crush back in March, but then I didn’t have time to ask her out before we were both elected and then it felt too unprofessional to ask her out right away. We’re home in different areas for the summer and we won’t see each other, but we text sometimes and interact over social media by sending memes and stuff like that. The club work is also going on in terms of general planning.
I think she’s the most wonderful person in the world. She’s incredibly intelligent, kind, funny, and so pretty. I think everything about her is amazing, and I think her imperfections only make her more human. She’s very busy at times, but I do see her quite often.
I’m at that stage of the crush where I know the best thing for me is to get over it, but whenever her name pops up in my phone my day immediately gets better.
My only concern is that she once mentioned how religious she is, and part of this means dating for the purpose of marriage. I don’t think this is a bad thing at all. My immediate first thought is how that isn’t a problem at all and a lot of people meet their spouses in college, and I feel like that’s too strong of a feeling to have and I’m being delusional.
Moving past that, I get into wondering how I should ask her out. I’m confident that even if I embarrass myself profoundly by asking her out and her saying no, we can be mature and work together on the club stuff. I can sort of find the words to say, but I don’t know when I should tell her how I feel. Telling her over text seems weird, but waiting until we both get back to school in the fall and starting with telling her how I feel also seems weird. What do I do?

This thread is about to be very long, and I will be adding to it frequently, but this is how I would write season 3 of Euphoria since Sam is obviously preoccupied with god knows what. This came to me in a dream so call it fate ig.
Background- since season 2 ends with the card that Rue stayed sober through the rest of junior year, and Lexi’s play takes place in the spring, I thought it’d be best to pick up on the first day of their senior year in the fall. This means that Cassie, Maddie, and Nate have all graduated, leaving us with Rue, Jules, Lexi, Elliot, Bobbi, Ethan, BB & Kat. Also Gia, the Parents, and Ali. Anyways here goes.
Episode 1- I Stayed Sober (Mostly)
[Scene 1]: The Last First Day Episode One opens with a black screen that has flashes of red and blue, like police sirens, that increasingly become more intense and vibrant, to indicate Rue coming out of a dissociative state. She narrates over the screen:
“You want to know the worst part about staying sober? It’s not the withdrawals or the cravings, even though they’re pretty fucking bad. It’s not even the depression or the emptiness you feel without your poisonous security blanket protecting you from your worst thoughts and emotions. The worst part about staying sober, is that you’re trapped back in the fucked up world that made you want to do drugs in the first place”
The red and blue screen shifts to police sirens with cops yelling in an attempt to evacuate everyone from the school. It’s raining and the sky is gray and muddy. All the students are now wearing muted uniforms in the school colors, blue black and white (the uniforms are explained later) The scene looks very muted and drained. As the students flood out of the school in a frenzy, we see Rue and Lexi standing at the exit, uninterested in the theatrics and significantly changed from last season.
Rue has a brighter disposition to herself, appearing more soft and bright, while keeping her moody demeanor. Her look shows that she is trying her best to be more optimistic, despite going through hell from her plethora of mental illness that have now taken over due to her sobriety. Still, she looks healthier and brighter.
Lexi, on the other hand, has a more goth like appearance. In addition to her new dark black hair with red colored streaks (red to signify her stepping into her power) she also looks less approachable with more gothic motifs such as skulls and roses on her increased accessories. We learn later that this is an attempt to reinvent herself after last year’s play incident and fez dying. She seems uninterested and annoyed, but has a more confident air after being put in the spotlight and no longer having to live under her sisters shadow. She has become more monotone, speaking her mind and embracing her realistic perspective of life.
They begin walking to the parking lot, looking for Lexi’s mom among the waves of chaotic students pushing past them.
Rue: Of course, just our fucking luck that someone decides to shoot up the school our first day of senior year.
Lexi: It wasn’t even a real shooting. I heard some kid brought a gun to show off and got tackled by his teacher. Everyone started freaking out, and now I’m missing the first day of my AP English class.
Rue: Not like you need it. I think you proved that you can write a good story that makes waves and changes lives (sarcasm)
Lexi: 😐 that’s not funny Rue. That play is all anyone could talk about all summer. Everyone hates me because they think it’s my fault that we all have to wear these stupid uniforms.
Rue: actually that was Cassie’s fault, that fight got a new edit every week. My favorite was the #mollywhop dance (starts doing a dance that is significant of Maddie slapping Cassie and Cassie riding a carousel)
Lexi: Rue I’m serious. I got so sick of living in the background that I put my entire life on display in front of all of East Highland just for my sister to make everything about her.
Rue: Well good writing is supposed to be controversial. And take it as a victory, at least you’re not a nobody anymore.
Random Guy: Hey Lexi, I got a horse you can ride (does the dance)
Cop: Keep it moving sir!
They get to the end of the parking lot and sit on the pavement.
Lexi: 🙄of course she’s late.
Rue: hey, it’s a new year. You’re no longer the girl whose sister was the hottest cheerleader in school and I’m no longer the resident drug addict that everyone is waiting to die.
Lexi: you’re right. That’s Elliot. Or Jules. Have you checked on either of them since his overdose?
Rue: no…fuck them both. They seem happy in their stupid relationship with their stupid anniversary posts. I had to block them both before I killed myself or worse. They can die for all I care.
Lexi: well he almost did. I heard he had a stroke and is in a wheelchair until he learns how to walk again.
Rue: trying to hide that she’s concerned really?…i mean i don’t care, but that’s what he deserves right? Can’t do drugs that carelessly without consequences. Ask me how I know.
Lexi: I don’t think anyone deserves to OD. I hope he gets some help.
Rue: he has help, that bitch is playing housewife which she probably loves. Attention seeking whore. You know I’m sick of talking about Jules and Elliot and Cassie and every other narcissist with a victim complex that keeps trying to make themselves the main character. pulls her closer with a shoulder hug this year it’s about us. Starting over and getting a chance to finally make it out of this stupid town. You have colleges lined up at the door and I’ve been sober for almost a year. No one is going to take this year from us. That why you blocked Cassie, and that’s why I had any memory of Jules permanently erased from my brain. Out of sight out of mind.
Lexi: I guess you’re right. New year, new us.
Rue: alright. Now call your mom so we can get out of the rain. I hate cops more than I hate being fully clothed and wet.
Lexi: (finally smiling) almost as much as they hate you
Rue: hey fuck you, I still have to go to court for that.
Lexi: too soon? 🤭
Rue: just dial the fucking phone
Rue [vo while it shows Suze driving up and the girls walking across the parking lot]: Despite how terrible last year was, I feel like Lexi and I finally got back to how things used to be. Before the drugs, before the funerals. Just Rue and Lexi like it’s always been. Sometimes I forget how great life was when I was just a kid. But drugs tend to take away everything that makes life, life. I just wish Fezco had stayed alive long enough to finally see me sober. Then maybe Lexi wouldn’t be so serious and emo these days. But she took care of me, and now it’s my turn. I just don’t know what’s worse, losing the love of your life before you get a chance to say it love you (shot of Lexi rubbing a cross chain fez gave her looking at the sky before getting in the car) or thinking you found the love of your life just to end up as strangers. (As Rue opens the door to get in, she sees Jules wheeling Elliot across the parking lot. She stares for a bit before getting in the car.) Either way, we all died. (Rue gets in the car before Jules can see her.)
Jules looks over at the car but doesn’t see anyone. She looks distraught, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rue, who she hasn’t seen since the play. She’s dressed in a mostly black school girl uniform with a short skirt and corset that she’s clad in neon accessories and coquettish garters and bows. Her hair is longer than in season 2 but shorter than season 1. This is to signify that she’s embracing her femininity more with Elliot, but is stepping into a more powerful, dominant version of femininity. She’s content with her relationship, and rebuilding herself after the abuse she endured in relationship with rue. Now she’s just worried about repeating the same story with Elliot. She looks off into the distance, paused in a state of reflection.
Elliot: babe are you good? Jules: what? Yea just thought I saw something. (Continues wheeling him across the parking lot) Elliot: It was probably a ghost. HEY CASPER, LOOK BUT DONT TOUCH HOMIE Jules: (laughing) you’re so unserious Elliot: what do you mean? I’m serious. I don’t want his ectoplasm fucking up your makeup. Jules: You’re the one who keeps fucking up my makeup Elliot: and I’ll do it again kisses her winces ow fuck Jules: relax dude. You know the doctor said you can’t stretch your spine much after your stroke. Elliot: and you know I told that doctor nothing can kill me and I’m basically a god Jules: even when you’re sick you’re still crazy Elliot: crazy for you Jules: yea yea, just be happy it was a stroke and not a death sentence. whispers in his you know if you would’ve died I would have to kill you. Elliot: besides the fact that that makes zero sense, you know it wasn’t my fault Jules: I’m just glad that Laurie lady got put behind bars. Who the fuck puts fentanyl in Weed? Elliot: a plug who can’t find enough junkies to buy their fentanyl. That’s why I always sniff my weed before I smoke it. Jules: and that sniff put you in a wheelchair, so who’s god now? Elliot: mmmm, still me. I live close enough to the school that I don’t have to pay for a van, and I have a hot chick with a huge dick as a nurse. Not to mention loads of settlement money from suing the biggest plug in our area and a med card with all the unlaced weed I can smoke. I’m up as fuck. Jules: or too high to be traumatized Elliot: And (dances her around his chair like a waltz until she falls in his lap) my dick still works. Jules: nice try Romeo, but your ego is showing (zips up his pants and continues pushing) Elliot: fuck, has it been like that all day? That’s embarrassing Jules: no more embarrassing than the whole school thinking you’re in a wheelchair because you couldn’t hold your oxys Elliot: it was Percs actually, thank you very much. And fuck what those bots think, I’ve been sober since that intervention. I guess you can say Rue knocked some sense into Me. Jules: (avoiding the topic of rue) did you see the comments on our last post, they called us percinstein and the coke bride Elliot: damn I guess they did know it was Percs (Now on his front porch)
Jules: (standing in front of him looking in his eyes with sentiment ) Elliot I’m serious. I’ve been the topic of conversation ever since I moved to this fucking town. I just want to have a normal year for once in my complicated life. Elliot: babe listen it’s high school. Everything is the topic of conversation and no one is normal. People talk shit because they’re bored and have no personality or sense of self outside of the useless drama they can create in their minds. But you have a life, and a future. You have an amazing, sober boyfriend who loves you and a portfolio that can get you into any art school in the world. You’re at the last step before your real life begins. I’m just happy that I have the privilege to watch. And you know I like to watch. Jules: you’re a lunatic. Elliot: I love you. Jules: I love you too. kiss
Elliot: Are you sure you can’t stay tonight Jules: I wish, but my dad is serious about making sure I get into the best school, which means spending hours look at boring virtual tours and applying early admission. Elliot: ok well I’ll be here figuring out how to pee without standing up Jules: how do our conversations always center back to your dick Elliot: I can’t talk about anything else, it’s too hard Jules: wow, you sound like my dad and I’m turned off [starts walking away] Elliot: it’s not me it’s the weed. now you make sure you make it home safe. There’s a shooter on the loose. Jules: [grabbing her bike] the gun wasn’t even loaded. besides, getting shot would not be the worst thing to happen to me. Elliot: you’re American. It always gets worse. Jules: [riding off] that’s depressing Elliot: text me when you’re home Jules: [almost gone] you have my location! Elliot: [to himself] and I still never know where you are

Anyway I (17f) and him (17m) have made great progress. To sum it up he asked for my number a few months ago and I had to further ask him if he liked me and he said yes. We’ve known each other since 6th grade and we are now seniors. I would say we were more of acquaintances. He said he developed a crush on me last year and so far we’ve been to the movies together (still not sure if that was a date or not because originally his friends were supposed to be there but they never showed up), he’s been over my house twice, and we went to prom together. Now, that prom is over there isn’t anything to plan or text about anymore. I don’t see him in school because we don’t have the same classes. I’m very introverted and quiet, I haven’t had friends since middle school and the people who have tried to befriend me either find me boring or awkward. I went from sitting at a lunch table alone in the beginning of the year to sitting at a lunch table with a couple of his friends that share the same lunch. We both said we enjoyed prom and we spent senior skip day together watching anime he’s recommended me. (He’s really into anime and trying to get me to watch it).
Anyway I did something bold when he asked me how my day was and I said “it’s good and better now that you’re texting”. I guess it sounds like I flirting with him and I guess guys are clueless because why would I have invited him over if I didn’t like him😅? Anyway he asked some funny random questions today and I didn’t ask any back so any funny conversation starters? Maybe even a would you rather or something…

So for context, I (28f) was adopted at birth. My mother thought my biological father was one guy because they didn't use protection, this man's name is everywhere in the court documents leading up to my adoption where he ultimately never showed up. After meeting my biological mother when I was 19, she had a thought that maybe she pinned the wrong guy. She asked me questions on if I had foot problems, which I don't remember but I don't really have a reliable source of information on my early childhood (my Adoptive father passed when I was 18 and my mom has a serious mental disability/illness so she creates fake memories that never happened). The only thing I could really tell her is that I get comments every now and then that I walk funny, but I don't have any sort of medical diagnosis to reflect this. Relevant for later.
So my mom had the idea of contacting this new guy that she thought was my biological father. She asked if I was OK meeting him and I figured, why not. When meeting him he gave me a hug and a stuffed animal because he claimed he wanted to give me a gift but didn't know what was best. The night went OK, but it was mostly them talking and remembering their high school days as they went to high school together and when I was born my mom was a junior, he was a senior. He made a weird comment about looking through my social media and having a noticeable dislike for the person I was dating at the time, my mom made her own negative comments on this, and then they decided to call it a night. My mom dropped me off at home and I didn't hear anything until the next day. Because my mom was separated at the time, I guess they decided to hook up that night, and she told me she was going to give him a chance and see where things go. Meanwhile, I maybe had two conversations with him. But something that put me off was when he talked about his kids. For starters, all of his other biological kids are males and were born with a club foot. I'm not a male, and if I had the same deformity I would have certainly known about it. Then he goes on to say that he has a daughter who is the youngest of them all, but she isn't biologically his, however he raised her as his and she doesn't know the truth. He then mentions that he doesn't want his daughter and other kids by extenstion to know about me, because he doesn't want her to feel like she has to share her dad. That was the last conversation that I had with him. Maybe a week later, my mom told me that she cut things off because she finally remembered why they didn't work out in the first place. So now I'm in a weird spot.
Admittedly I have had my doubts that he is my biological father because my mom was convinced on only a few points, our height is similar (I'm very much on the short side, maybe an inch shorter than him and she is very much tall), my hair is dark like his (she's a natural redhead), and that I act like he does in a few ways. I did want to eventually get a DNA test done to be sure, I was just waiting for the right time.
What confuses me is that even though we only had 2 conversations, 6 years later when I had my own child, he starts heart reacting to all of the baby photos that I have posted on social media. I thought maybe he would try to get involved, but he never did. Several months ago, I noticed that he hadn't reacted to any photos or posts that I had made, so out of curiosity I searched for his profile, and saw it was gone. I thought that maybe he had blocked me. About a month ago, I get this weird curiosity again, and decide to log out of everything on my laptop, and see if he actually did block me.
The first thing that popped up when I googled his name was his obituary. He had passed away 4 months ago at the age of 47. Since I made this discovery late at night, I had trouble getting any sleep. The next morning I had texted my mom and grandmother to let them know what I had found. What's odd is that my grandma never had anything nice to say about him, but this time she gave me sympathy saying "it's such a shame you didn't get to know him." My mom pretty much said the same thing. The way I saw it, he had the chance to get to know me but he pushed me away, so getting sympathy really angered me. I had told my mom my intention of wanting to get a DNA test, and she told me not to seek out his kids because she had met their mom before, and she's not a person to mess with, and there's no way of knowing how much his kids take after their mom.
I have taken a 23&me, but the only relatives that have popped up are on my mom's side, or 3rd cousins that are very ambiguous which side they belong to.
I haven't found a cause of death so I have no idea what he died from. His family lives in a town maybe an hour away, so I feel like an accident would have made local news. This makes me have an increased concern for mine and my child's health. On my 23&me health report, I only have the basic and not the + or premium features, the only 2 things to pop up were alzheimers and AMD. I don't think he would've had either of those.
As far as how I'm feeling now, it's been a mix of emotions but not sadness or grief. If anything maybe disappointment? It's a complete polar opposite from when my adoptive dad passed away. He was pretty much my whole world so I was all (and still am on occasion) tears and sadness. I still dream about him and even though he never got to meet my son, I have dreams of him spending time with him. So for me to get angry at people for showing me sympathy doesn't feel right, but I feel like I don't deserve it because I didn't really know him. I mainly made this post to get my thoughts out, but if anyone has a similar experience, please tell me how you've dealt with it.

Ankita Mishra and Rishab Jolly seem to go by simple strategy to attract aspiring students who would like to study in the US as part of their followers. Neither their content has much relevance, nor it has any depth and is rather based on their self obsession with oneself. Where Ankita keeps telling the same old generational immigrant story which is apparently the story of every immigrant who has made it anywhere, and there seems to be nothings that’s different in her story as compared to some who’s actually escaping harsh lives in their country. While she may be a brown girl who is lucky to work in tech, thanks to these irrelevant Pm/ TPM roles. Not sure she would actually have a tech job to apply real brain. It’s so funny to see her talk about career where her first job was handed over to her at grace hopper( read 4 day extravaganza). Also hilarious to see Ankita being so delusional and trying to act cool to mention her new house in east side ( the most posh ) where it’s clearly in Renton ( South ). Someone needs to get their directions sorted.
Jolly on the other hand can’t get over the fact that he’s a Punjabi guy in a land of non Punjabi Desi immigrants just few miles south of the Surrey border ( aka urban Punjab). He seems to act so informed, talks about reading books and acting intellectual and product management in their baseless podcast and instagram reels whereas all Desis in the US know they have done nothing different. They chose to record their lives while I thers keep it private.
So funny to see these people talking about career and making it big in the US, whereas Ankita’s career is just a copy paste of his senior Jolly who have been doing the same job for years, and have the same exact career trajectory.
This llustrates the fact that they get on the bandwagon of content creation where the main ingredient is still lacking - CONTENT

[FIRST][LAST]
Atlantis Commission
Officer Report - Lieutenant Colonel John Shepard
CLEARANCE LEVEL 5
Well this had definitely been a very interesting couple of hours. This dimension and its people had very odd opinions and ideas. Apparently the prey species of this dimension were all obligate cowards, whose instincts compelled them to be non-violent and run from threats. At least according to themselves. There were apparently some of them who were “predator diseased” as they called it, a disease which often resulted in increased violence, aggression, lack of empathy, and unheard like behavior. It sounded to me like some form of infectious psychopathy, but the venlil assured us it shouldn't affect us since we were predators, which didn’t really ease my fears, but hopefully it was something we could figure out when we got home if it ever became a problem.
Gotta love mandatory quarantine periods woo hoo!
As scary as this odd disease sounded, my main concern at the moment was to try and turn a professed coward into someone who could at the very least defend themselves.
I looked down to the table of gear ahead of me and then over to the mostly naked Venlil to my side, and then even farther to Tiel’c who thought It would be a good idea to help oversee Farva’s rapid fire training course. I fiddled with the bluetooth earpiece which was rigged up to one of our handhelds to run a translation program to speak directly with the captain. A big step up from our unknowingly one sided communications earlier.
I stepped on the other side of the plastic table and placed my hands down upon it and looked on at my new student..
“Welcome Captain Farva to our very impromptu accelerated course on Human arms armor and basic infantry tactics.” I said gesturing to the hodge podge gear we had managed to assemble for the good captain. “Are we ready to begin?”.
She flicked her ears, somewhat nervously by the looks.
“I’d take it that's a yes then?”
“Oh yes sorry”
“Alright then, well given that most of our crew is human and the only other alien struts around naked all the time, the only gear we have on hand is for humans, So you're going to be running size smalls and it's all going to fit all a bit big” I say as I toss her the tactical vest. ”Here try this on, we can try to tighten it up if it's a bit loose anywhere”. The captain wrestles with the buckles a bit, and Teal'c helps her tighten up some of the top straps, as the Venil’s shoulders weren't as broad as humans. Farva gave Teal’c an odd look, but seemed appreciative none the less.Once finished, she grasped the vest in her paws with interest. “This armor seems quite lightweight, which is nice, weight is often an issue that causes us to forgo armor, since heavy armor would hurt our running ability.” Farva remarks. “Also the sheer amount of pockets seems quite excessive, what do you need all these for?”
“Well for starters it's currently missing these '' I hand Farva one of the armor plates which she looks over. “That is a depleted Naquadria ceramic composite plate. It’s designed to stop bullet impacts and dissipate energy weapon blasts. It slots into that chest compartment in the front and back of your armor.”
“This isn't quite what Id imagine for the armor of your kind”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well judging by your ships I would have imagined you would put more emphasis on defense Your predatory nature would make you less likely to run away from conflict allowing for more encompassing armor to cover more than just your chest, since you have less need to run.”
She would put it like that.
“Well there are a number of reasons for that, a lot to do with those excess pockets you mentioned. For starters you will not be carrying the same amount of gear that the standard infantry unit would normally be carrying, we are preparing you for a quick in and out op. Normally us expedition teams need to be deployed into unknown territory for extended periods of time, we need to carry everything we might need with us from food, bullets, weapons, to comms gear, sensors, repelling equipment etc. The weight from all that gear adds up fast; In order to stay sufficiently mobile and combat effective; we only carry enough armor to protect our vitals, head and torso, anything else can hopefully be patched up by a field medic.”
Tielc gave his piece as well. “It is important to know when to run both towards and aways from one's foes, not every battle can be won through strength alone, but by strategy and cunning. Being able to reposition oneself quickly is therefore highly advantageous”
Farva seemed to freeze at Teal'c's statement, not out of fear I think, she instead had a distant look in her eye. To snap her out of her slump I handed her a standard ballistic helmet.
Seeming to get the idea she looked at it oddly and tried it on. It confirmed to her head shape decently well but depressed her ears to either side of her head, kind of resembling what one might imagine a sad bunny rabbit to look like “I don't think this will be something I can bring with me” she said ” I can't use ear signals and this will muffle my hearing.”
“Why don’t you keep it on for the time being, I think any extra hearing protection might be useful considering what we are about to try next.” I hand Farva some ballistic ear protectors, slightly modified and somewhat ramshackle. “One of the corporals worked closely with Nurse Fila to get an idea for safe decibels levels for your kind, we were also able to get these earbuds molded to fit into your ear canal better”
Farva took them and slipped them in. “These are a bit uncomfortable, what do I need these for?”
“You'll need them for this” I say as I unsnap the clasps on the weapons case revealing its contents.
The content seems to capture Farva’s interest, getting a slight tail wave.
“Okay So this here is a p90, It carries a 50 round top loading magazine of teflon coated armor piercing ordnance. With a cyclical rate of fire of 900 rounds per minute.”
Farvas ears perk up at this. “This seems like an efficient design, I take it these are a flashlight and laser sight for accuracy?” She asked, pointing to the top of the weapon.
“Yes we also have holographic and acog optics which will help line up targets from farther away.” I look on as Farva picks up the weapon and inspects it, testing the weight as I note that it will weigh a fair bit more once loaded. But she doesn't seem to be struggling with the weight. I can't help but notice good firearm safety as well, she keeps her finger well off the trigger and takes care to keep her weapon pointed aways from anyone else.
“This seems like a solid design but I'm not sure how useful those weapon optics would be, as they are not designed for my side facing eyes”
“I'm sure our master at arms can figure something out, why don't we give it a test fire first tho, before we send it off to make adjustments.” I instruct her on how to load the weapon and turn the safety off. I warn her of the sound it makes. And while definitely taken aback by the recoil and sound at first, she quickly gets the hang of it, she has some respectable shot groupings in both single fire and in short bursts. And keeps the rounds reasonably centered while firing in full auto.
She did a whole lot better than I would have initially suspected given her performance in the hanger bay a day before.
“The rate of fire seems useful” Farva spoke “This would be useful for our soldiers, our accuracy falters when we are panicked, and the increased shot count should guarantee some hits based on volume of fire alone” she finished with a dejected expression.
She quickly places the weapon back in its case, as if it burned to touch.” I don't know if I should be armed for this mission, at least not with that weapon, I don't want to miss and hit one of you in the back!”
“What? Nonsense, you are a great shot, and this is just a precaution in case we get separated or flanked and need some covering fire. If our guys are doing their job right you shouldn't need to fire a single round anyways.”
Captain Farva’s breathing started to hasten, earlier I might have thought it was fear, but I was starting to get an idea of what the captain's issues were. I’ve seen this before.
“I.. I can’t be trusted with this responsibility, every time I am left in charge of something, every time people put their lives in my paws I ....”
“Farva, don’t you start with me now you hear.” I said sternly, swiftly capping off her inevitable spiral of self doubt.
“But.. no.. you don’t understand”
Stopping her again I spoke. “But nothing, what happened before on that ship, and back at that colony is in the past. I don’t know your whole situation, but from what I have gathered from the crew It was nothing good. You feel responsible and it's eating away at you, and frankly it doesn’t matter if that's true or not. Accidents happen, people make mistakes, and when that happens we need to learn, take those lessons to heart, and don't let it stop us from helping people in the present. If you let guilt, or fear of mistakes stop you, then bad guys have already won, all without having to have fired a shot”
Farva is quiet for a short time, I was hoping I got through to her, I'm not the best and pep talks and this certainly wasn’t your typical weapons demo, if only everyones could go as smoothly as Ronan’s.
Farva spoke quietly, arms pressed up against her chest, she looked so sad, defeated, and small. Well more than usual anyways. “We can't be strong like you humans, we are too emotional and when we are scared we run away or we lock up and...”
“And that is clearly not the case with you captain Farva” Teal’c finally reentered the conversation having heard enough. “You have shown courage with every action you have taken so far, your actions have saved the lives of many of your crew, every time you have been threatened you acted not just to protect yourself but others as well. You attempted to contend with beings many times your size without even thinking about it, all in the effort to protect others, and this is only in the time we have known you, this speaks nothing of your actions over the colony. You are a warrior of admirable courage Captain Farva, your self doubt is unearned.”
A single tear rolled down Farva’s eyes which she quickly wiped away. “That was very nice of you to say, but I'm not brave like you say, I was terrified out of my mind the whole time.”
Teal’c looked puzzled. “I did not call you brave, I said you were courageous.”
Farva shot back with the little venlil one up one down ear flick I had very quickly learned was confusion.” I'm confused you just said brave twice”
“Hmm it appears your language does not contain the word I am using, I apologize I am not used to speaking through a translator” Teal’c relented “ There are two words I am using admittedly in slightly different forms, bravery and courage. Bravery or to be brave is to lack fear, to not be afraid to begin with. Courage tho, Is a trait far more admirable. Courage is to be afraid, to have fear, to worry about one's own mortality and personal safety. It is to acknowledge risk, danger, to feel fear, but to act in spite of it.”
“Had I not met your kind before I would have thought predators don't feel fear.”
“Everyone fears feel Farva, It is how we overcome it that determines our worth as warriors”
Teal’c picks up the p90 and returns it to Farvas hands.
“Your people need a warrior Farva, a warrior who protects the innocent and guides the lost to safety. You have shown how collected you can be in the heat of battle, You have already proven your worth in our eyes Farva, now you must do the same in your own. The greatest enemy lies not without” Teal’c places his hand firmly on the venlil’s chest “But within”.
After Action Report - Venlil Colonial Defense Force
Subject : Chief Engineer Donu
I fiddled with my holopad, Its small surface area proving to be a consistent source of annoyance in my current endeavor. Gone was the large workspace afforded to me by my holotable back in my office. Instead I had to work with the scaled down portable holotablet I was just fortunate enough to have strapped to my person when I was beamed away from our last ship. I was stuck with its smaller keyboard and slower rendering speeds.
An annoyed smooth skin alien looked over my shoulder at my device, attached to it was a jury rigged fiber optic cable, slotted into a terran silicon to crystal patch cable, which would convert the electrical signals broadcasted by my tablet into a bandwidth that the terrans crystalline based computers; which they used for highly complex tasks like hyperdrive and transporter systems; could use, and then It was patched again in a even stranger connector to patch into the odd asgard computer stones.
All in all it looked like someone tried to plug a regular computer into some crystal construct like you would find in a fantasy holonovel, and again plugged that into a harchen heat rock sauna lounge. Finally branching out from this conglomeration was a simple copper based wire that connects to a computer terminal at which currently sat the late Doctor Rodney Mckay. A title upon initially hearing led me to believe he was a medical doctor, which led to a flurry of medical questions that he had absolutely no means of answering.
While this odd alien nomenclature was interesting, what intrigued me more was his actual area of expertise, theoretical astrophysics, as well as a number of other diverse specialties and fields. Not to mention not only was he a great scientist who had he been raised in the more civilized portion of this galaxy, would have knowledge and aptitude that would put him alongside some of Aafas greatest minds, but he was also an engineer without peer, at least in this galaxy. His interactions with general Samantha Carter hinted at her possibly being his match if not more. For a species that was supposed to glorify violence the decision to have a scientist be arguably the most senior member of what was by their admission a military vessel spoke to their commitment to knowledge and understanding, a very noble prey-like goal.
I looked warily at the lines of code at my screen, the asguard translation program had earlier scanned our ship and was able to parse written languages, but complex files, like images and 3d design schematics were harder to encode and decode from our perspective systems. As is stands we have 3 completely separate computer architectures, the asguard can talk to human computers and the venlil computers can talk to the asguard computers, It sounds like we would have everything we need to get a human C.A.D schematic into a venlil holotablet right? Wrong! And you're stupid for entertaining such a idiotic notion! Parsing text from raw binary is relatively straight forward, you're just looking for patterns, repeating bit combinations that might infer letters and then iterating them over millions of times looking for patterns, letters, words, and then with a bit of help from some undecoded analog audio transmission, spoken language. This is a far cry from actual procedural communication protocols,the ones that allow for file transfers, exactly what we needed if we were to get Rodney's redesigned part schematics into a format and medium that can be plugged into a suitable fabricator. Assuming one still exists, which I can reasonably assume it does.
Speaking of which, I have just made something of a breakthrough. For upon my screen appears a simple geometric hydrogen cube, we’re talking vertices, planes, material data, everything we need for a usable design file.
I let out an excited pent up yip, the culmination of hours of frustrating software integration work. Unfortunately I startled Rodney, who lets out a panicked gasp and clutches his chest pelts with one of his paws.
“Oh god…..” He gasps, pointing at me “Please.. don’t do that”
“Sorry!” I say a bit meekly. I slowly approach him so as to not make him unnecessarily uncomfortable and show him my work.
“I got the file exchange set up, all we need from you is to finish any modifications to your part, upload them to my holopad, and then we can print away at any class 3 or above fabricator we can scrounge up on Brayga colony.”
“Ok.. um.. got it, I'm almost done i’m just you know” He points a lone grasping appendage at his screen,”Running some simulations, making sure everything is up to spec.” keeping his response kurt. “Sorry for freaking out there.”
I nod my head in the human display of affirmation and return to my workstation to further bug check my work, to test potentially problematic edge cases for when he finishes. Tho Rodney's continued odd behavior intruded on my thoughts.
I should have felt empowered, being able to intimidate this ‘massive beast’, but I didn't. I didn't like being feared, his people have been nice to me, Rodney himself courteous to a fault and desperate for positive attention.
I thought I could expect predators to be fearless but that clearly wasn't the case, rodney was fearful, nervous, had I not known better I would say defective, and while it annoyed his crew, they didn't berate him for it, or attempt to assert dominance, they encouraged it even with placating words and tried to help him through it, they encouraged and supported him like a proper herd, even if sometimes it took the form of what the human would call a playful ribbing. I supposed I could help him as well.
I approached him again, careful to make my approach known to him, making sure to approach from within his limited field of vision. He looks up at me with a wide eyed glare, had I not known him I might have assumed it was hunger, but I did and knew it to be concern.
“Uh high Donu.. um whats up?”
“Why are you afraid of us rodney?”
“Wa-What, me afraid?” he gives out a panicked laugh ”uh no no, I'm not afraid, you know just a bit weirded out I'm just getting used to you all, it's not a fear thing it's a a…. Just getting used to new aliens thing, ask Hermirod we went through this whole song and dance right buddy”
Hermirod furrowed his brow and gave an irritated sigh from across the room.
I reached out to take Rodney by the paw.
His whole body flinched at my mere touch, I quickly withdrew my paw.
“Oh.. um.. I didn't…”
“Rodney! It's okay, your crew doesn’t seem to care when you show fear, and neither do I. Why are you afraid of us? You are almost twice our size and surely double our strength, most venlil would scream and run in terror at the mere sight of you. What's wrong?”
Rodney let out a sigh. “Oh its, we don't have to talk about this, I can deal with this, I deal with scary situations all the time, it's fine, I'll be fine.”
“Rodney, my people are a very emotional, empathic people, we are open with our feelings and with our fear, and the fear of the one can affect the herd, please let me help you. I don’t know what to expect from your society but I promise I wont judge you for your fear or emotions, I mean look at many of my crew mates, we are no one to judge”
Rodney shot back “You didn't seem to be so bothered”
“I’m too old to care, I was about to retire, hell I was about to die as far as I knew, Brayga colony was supposed to be a quiet place to lay back, work on some hobbies, plant a garden and pester the young men of my colony until I either dropped dead of boredom or got lucky” I joked.
That seemed to raise Rodney's mood somewhat. He sighed and seemingly relented.
“It’s… a dumb story, I don't even know why it affected me so much, I come from a place on earth called Canada, people don't usually believe me when I say I am from there, us Canadians are notoriously friendly and I guess I haven’t exactly filled that mold for a lot of my life, but hey I'm working on it, people like me, I have lots of friends back at Atlantis” He says the last sentence in a way as if it isn't me he's trying to convince.
“I'm sure you do, Rodney, You seem like quite the charming individual when you're not cowering!”
“Ha ha thanks, maybe you could come and visit sometime. Tell that to doctor Becket, really nice guy, smart man, he would love to meet you, he loves investigating new species. But back on topic, oh boy, so me and my sister Jeannie were on a family trip to rural Vancouver to visit my grandpa's farm, he kept a lot of goats, not for eating or anything, they were essentially pets that he would use for milk”
“Wait hold on? You drink milk from other animals! Do your females not produce enough milk for their young?”
“Oh um no, we just sort of drink it or ferment it into cheese!”
“Ferment? You mean spoil?
“Yeh”
I reeled from this plasma blast of a statement, I like any right minded venlil had a number of nightmares about being an arxur’s cattle before, especially when I first learned about those things in primary school, but never once had it crossed my mind that we could be used for something so weird. What the speh was I supposed to do with that information?
“Maybe you should get back on topic”
“Yeh sorry about that uh.. Anyways the momma goat had just had a litter of babies, and their real cute when their little, so late in the day when my grandpa was asleep we snuck out to the pens so we can play with the little baby goats, our grandpa told us not to but you now how kids are.”
At this I think back to a young Nyan, as I teach him the inner working of the hyperdrive, I tell him he’s not cleared yet to operate in this engine compartment alone, but I could tell from the occasional caught black hairs and dropped writing implements, there had been a number of curious unauthorized expeditions into its inner workings, he didn't really listen either.
“My sister as always was trying to be the voice of reason, wanting to take it slow. If I was paying attention I might have noticed the angry moma goat who didn’t appreciate the strange human messing with her children.”
The color seemed to drain from his face.
“I uh…” He began to stutter again ”I screamed, a lot, it was rather undignified, she ran right at me, thank god it wasn't a male goat, one with horns, I tired to run but I was hit in the back and knocked over and kicked real good in the head, like wake up in the vet clinic a quarter mile down the road kind of bad”
“This goat was a prey animal?”
“That would be what your kind focuses on”
“Oh sorry”
“Anyways It seems dumb but I have just never been good with animals since then, especially ones that look like you; no offense; I'm getting better but when I first saw you guys in the hangar bay, I was just that dumb kid again, getting in way over my head, scared for my life. I guess there is something to be said about childhood trauma. I really should be over this, I'm getting better with it I swear it’s just”
I take his paw again, he doesn't flinch this time.
“I'm a venlil, a prey animal, I know fear, I know what it is to live in fear, It rattles your brain, it turns your paws to wet grains. It takes great strength to overcome it, to push it aside just long enough to protect the herd. Your herd relies on you Rodney and you are doing a great job in spite of your fear, in spite of having to work with those you fear. You have achieved intellectual feats that rival the greatest minds of the federation and all that while struggling with a traumatic experience. Fear isn’t dumb and there is nothing wrong with you for feeling it.”
“Thank you” Rodney says “That means a lot, I won't be like forever I promise, I just need some time.”
“We will laugh about this someday,” I assured. “Nothing as big and intelligent as you should be afraid of anything”
“Are you calling me fat?” Rodney exclaimed with fake offense.
We both chuckled.
My kind words had resulted in a more upright posture, and a more cheerful demeanor from the human, almost like when I congratulated Nyan on his work, and it got me a look at that happy snarl of his, that I was starting to grow quite fond of.
After Action Report - Venlil Colonial Defense Force
Subject : Apprentice Engineer Nyan
Oh wow! I get to write a report for this mission! I never get to write reports, Donu says they're too boring, but there’s so many interesting things going on all the time. Sometimes I sneakily write my own! Just for fun of course, nobody sees them, which is probably for the best as I sometimes get excited and embellish them slightly. One of the reports I wrote was about the time Donu used nothing but a wad of electrical tape, a bottle of high grain venlil alcohol and a pocket knife to repair a venlil medical ship just in time to get out of the way of a big scary space predator, with glowing red eyes and a million tentacles!
Anyways Im not sure If im suppose to write these In present tense first person or past tense. I asked the captain and she said it's whatever so long as I make sure any pertinent dialogues are properly quoted(“”).
“Nobody usually reads these things anyways.” She said, but this one is surely going to be so exciting, who could look away!
I mean who's gonna scoff at a chance to read about friendly predators from another dimension! A dimension of friendly predators who give warm head scratches and hand out yummy strayu not strayu treats called donuts, that are somehow fluffier than strayu, and have a nice moisture to them. I asked for the recipe but Samantha said we wouldn't have the ingredients back on Venili prime to make them, and Teal'c said the recipe is an old family secret. Its weird predators would be so protective of their plant snacks.
There are so many weird things about these predators, they have nurturing instincts that make them find us cute. They stay perfectly balanced even if they don’t have tails, swinging their arms and body all over the place to keep upright like a lopsided gyroscope, it's pretty funny looking!
They also wear artificial pelts all the time, which I thought was weird, I thought maybe the ships temperature was set by the angry gray alien since he’s the only crew member beside the venlil who walks around naked all the time, maybe he had a fit when it was to warm, and the humans obliged him cause they were worried they would make him even angrier, and wore clothes to make up for the cold. I thought this made sense, a lot of their technology does seem to come from the Asguard, maybe he has more say in the goings on of the ship because of that. But apparently humans just like wearing pelts all the time. They feel uncomfortable without them and don’t like it if you try to remove them or look up their upper artificial pelts they call shirts.
The humans are so weird, I don’t even have to embellish my reports to make it more interesting. Like that time with the big tentacled space predator. That may sound real compared to this stuff but it Isn't, Ha! I bet you fell for it at first, hook line and sinker! Like the humans would say. I think I used that saying right, I'm not sure what it means, but Shepard brought it up when he was telling a story about the wraith.
The humans are so nice, instead of exterminating their predators they try to cure them! Their doctors are working to modify the wraith so they don't have to eat humans anymore, so they can be friendly predators too.
Anyways I should probably get to the actual report part of this report. Farva says I should start after I went off with Samantha to work on some special astrophysics equations she said I would be good at. I kind of wanted to go with Donu to help Rodney get the new parts they needed, or Farva to help rescue our people, but the humans and even the angry gray alien got really weird when Farva mentioned taking me on the mission. Samantha seemed to want me to help her really badly so I didn’t mind. Samantha says I have the most important part to our mission. She's teaching me about how humans communicate through subspace, and about stellar drift equations. We are working on what she calls the exit strategy.

The Old Machine

By Angel Arevalo
The first time I saw the old machine was as Benny’s father closed his study door to us. It was already a relic then, a heap of beige plastic from a bygone era. The monitor was a beige box with a screen made of thick glass. It must have weighed a ton. It sat odious on the rectangular beige case that contained its thinking guts. Peripherals included a keyboard, a mouse, and a phone.
The phone was not a flat screened supercomputer the way the phones of today are. It was a simple speaker and receiver, with a rotating dial instead of buttons. Technically it was capable of making calls from a connected landline, but this was not its true purpose. Its true purpose was to make communication between the internet and the old machine possible. It did this through the magic of sound. According to Benny, who heard it from his father, the data from the internet came in the form of audible sound. Once it was called, the phone could be placed on a stand from which the old machine could “hear” the signals and translate them back into binary code.
My imagination stirred at the idea of “hearing” the internet. I could put something tangible to the invisible force that allowed me to watch endless streams of videos, or chat with friends from around the world. Benny probably more than me. He lived with the damn thing. However it was off limits.
As much as we wanted to hear the internet, Benny’s father would not have it. His study was entirely forbidden to us, and on the few occasions when he had allowed us entry to give us a word of sage advice or to admonish us for childish antics, he would use himself as a physical barrier between us and the old machine. His physical language was such that neither Benny or I had ever thought to ask for permission. Neither of us believed he would even consider the idea, and the most likely outcome would be that he would make it all that much harder to do so behind his back.
So we waited. Bided our time. As children, this was all that was afforded to us.
This forced patience paid off.
There came a very unusual day in Benny’s house. Often it was Benny’s mother who was charged with the daily maintenance of the household, but outstanding circumstances meant that she was forced to take the day off. If I remember correctly it was to do with Benny’s grandmother, but that is neither here nor there. The important thing is that Benny’s father had to take over the daily run of the house. Part of that was buying the groceries for that night's dinner, so here was a rare moment where the house and the study would be left completely unattended.
The moment we heard his father’s car leave the driveway, we were on it.
The door to his father’s study, where the old machine was kept, was locked, but we accounted for this. Benny had been practicing opening the locks around his house, and they were all the same make and model. Benny stuck the finer end of a hairpin into the keyhole and opened the lock as quickly as if he had the key.
The door swung open, and perched on the desk, was the old machine, in all its pristine beige glory.
It was a comically frightful thing, that heap of beige plastic. It sat there, decades old at least, and yet the casing showed no sign of yellowing. The screen, which showed that it was turned off, was a yawning black abyss; and the deadly silence of the room was disturbed by something that was not quite tangible, but an almost physical mental pressure, like gentle psychic breathing. The pressure was such that you could feel it in the base of your skull, and much more lightly, around your head and in your ears. It made one feel as if they were in the presence of a great monster, and not, in fact, an old beige box of outdated electronics.
“C’mon,” said Benny, stepping into the room. Evidently I had been stuck in place for some time. Benny on the other hand seemed much less wary than me. He scampered forward, smiling as he pulled back his fathers study chair so he could stand on it and reach the strange phone with its rotating dial.
Not nearly as brave, and suddenly three times more cautious, I stood back as he picked up the phone to “listen” to the internet. Depending on how you view it, the phone was luckily, or rather “unluckily”, in its translation stand, meaning that it was at that time communicating with the internet. Benny’s face twisted uncomfortably before breaking into a giddy smile.
“Ooh!” he said, smiling. “That’s creepy!”
He held it to his ear like that for a minute or so, wrinkling his nose from time to time before smiling again and throwing me a conspiratorial smirk. His giddy enthusiasm, despite the sound being what he called “creepy” seemed to calm me down some. Benny always had a way of doing that to me. Suddenly I was excited. He saw this, and offered me his place on his father’s seat.
“Here,” he said, still smirking. “It’s terrible!”
I took his place on the seat, and picked up the phone. It was heavier than I expected. Heavier than any smart phone I had ever held. It was like picking up the lighter end of an animal’s meaty tail. I felt a sudden hesitation, but Benny was still brimming with joy, goading me to have a listen.
I put the phone to my ear, and heard whispers. Surprised, I let the phone slip out of my hands to clatter to the floor.
They had been quiet whispers, barely audible, but audible they were. The whispers painted a picture for me. A sticky red room. A friend, here but not here. I saw the old machine in a new home, and with a new keeper, a willing thrall.
I think Benny would have laughed at me if he had not also been struck stupid in that same moment. Standing in the doorway of his study was his father.
It is difficult to speak ill of the dead, which is funny, because it’s not like they care, but that’s just the way of things. Benny’s father had always been a kind man. If not a kind man then certainly a dutiful father. He was always there for Benny, always there to give a word of wisdom or a consoling hug, but on occasion there was a glint of something sinister behind his eyes. It appeared sporadically, mostly during conversations with other adults. Somewhere in the middle of a conversation between the tragic loss of a child in another state or several towns over, or in discussing the statistic and calculus of death such as a mass shooting, that furtive sparkle behind his eye would manifest, and he would become, for a fraction of a second, someone else. That spark was there now, and it was aimed at me.
Benny’s father saw that I had the phone in my hand. He saw his boy beside me, and that spark behind his eye turned into a barely controlled flame. There was so much hate there.
“Benjamin,” he said in a deathly calm voice, in a heavily restrained voice. “Please tell me you didn’t let your friend here talk you into picking up that phone.”
“He didn’t, dad, he didn’t,” answered Benny.
“Did you pick up the phone too?”
“Of course not dad,” Benny lied.
Relief washed over his father’s face. He ran past the threshold of the study and knelt down to wrap his arms around his boy. He then looked at me.
“Get out,” he said quietly, nearly on the verge of tears. Then again, louder, “GET OUT!”
I was still too stunned to move, even after the second shout, but then Benny’s father rose– with Benny still in his hands. The menace I felt. I bolted from the study, running past Benny and his father.
I learned from Benny at school the next day that we weren’t allowed to play together anymore. Benny’s father didn’t even want to see me anywhere near him. It was ridiculous. We were neighbors for crying out loud! Benny was my best friend, who else was I going to play with? And for what? But it didn’t matter. Benny’s father had made his decree, and Benny had to abide. At least we still had school. Benny’s father couldn’t dictate who he spoke to there.
Benny and I sulked for that whole school day, unable to enjoy the little time we were going to have together. We sulked like that together at school for ages. And in this way, the strange whispers that we heard in the phone were almost forgotten, overshadowed by our forced separation.
Every day after school I hoped and prayed that my exile from Benny’s home would end, and in a roundabout and terrible way, my prayers were answered.
A year later, Benny was pulled from class, after which he disappeared for a week. His home, which was next to mine, sat dark and empty. For a whole week I heard nothing from him, not any social platform or messaging medium. When I finally did hear from him, it was no longer Benny. It was the shell of a person that had once been a child. It was Benny, aged eons.
The broken shell that had been Benny stumbled into class. He said nothing, and looked at no one. It wasn’t until lunch period that I finally got anything out of him, and when I did, I don’t think I could ever have been ready to hear it.
That day that Benny had been pulled out of class was the day that his mother had been arrested for the murder of his father. She was found in his study, and according to police, was basically mid act. How the police were alerted so quickly as to show up with the crime in progress was never fully revealed to Benny personally, but news coverage afterwards revealed that an anonymous tip had arrived at the police station.
Benny’s mother would stand by her innocence until the very end, but the fact that she was witnessed by police in the middle of committing the act made it indefensible. Her trajectory to the lethal injection room was one of the swiftest the state had ever seen.
It was tragic. Benny was out both parents, and it was all the more tragic because Benny didn’t have any other family. His last grandparent had passed the year prior. He was due to go into foster care, but God bless my parents, because they took him in. Benny got to stay in town, with a family that loved him nearly as much as his own had.
Benny stayed in my life, it was the reverse of what had happened the year prior when his father had found us listening to the internet on the old machine. Now Benny was in my life more than ever, but also not.
Physically he was there. Benny and I shared a room, and we hung out all the time. Mentally, or perhaps even spiritually, Benny just wasn’t with me anymore. His soul was in some godsforsaken elsewhere. His inner self was closed off to me. My mind didn’t have the words or wisdom to say what was wrong, only that despite being around him nearly 24 hours a day, he felt absent.
It wasn’t until later, much later, years later really, when Benny and I were well into our teens that I felt like I saw the real him again. His home, and everything in it, the things that had once been his father’s, were his. He’d never cared much about that. He’d never even mentioned his not exactly meager inheritance beyond the vague idea that he supposed he would move into his old home once he became an adult. Other than that he made no mention of his old home, which sat dim and forgotten next to mine. He hadn’t so much as stepped inside of it since he left for school on the day of the murder.
But one day, on the porch, while the sun was beginning to die on the horizon, Benny asked me if I would go into his old house with him. We were pushing seventeen, and college bound so I supposed at the time that he was seeking a kind of closure. Despite the vast chasm that Benny’s depression had carved between us, I wanted to be there for my best friend, so I agreed to go along with him.
Once we were at his old doorstep, Benny produced a small, unopened, envelope. He tore it open, and produced a key that he used to open the door to his old home. I watched him do this and felt a pang in my heart that was something more than sadness. I didn’t have a name for it. I just knew that it was coming from Benny. The straw that broke the camel’s back was Benny looking behind him to see me, and flashing me the barest hint of a smile that was filled with the same sadness that panged in my chest a moment ago. It was the tiniest crease on the corner of his mouth, but it broke me. That crease was the most genuine thing I’d gotten from him in years.
I wish I had been brave enough to cry, but I swallowed those tears. Drowned out all emotion, because I thought that was what the burgeoning man I wanted to become would have done.
We entered the house, which was dark and smelled awful. There was a rot in there that had settled into the very foundation.
“Augh,” I let out, “what is that?”
“I– Uhm… I don’t now.” That’s what he said, but something told me that he did know. He just didn’t want to say it out loud for some reason.
In my role as supportive best friend, I still hadn’t asked why Benny had wanted to come back here. So I decided to do that then, but as he ascended up the stairs I knew there was only one destination he had in mind. His father’s study. The old machine.
I kept my mouth shut, but I wonder sometimes if maybe I should have started protesting. I wonder if maybe I should have dragged Benny back out the door, kicking and screaming, but those are just what ifs and meaningless regrets. Even if I dragged him out then and there, so what? He would just come back without me. If I had barred him in any way he would just choose a different time and place, and he would be doing it alone. No. I had no choice. It was inevitable. There’s no stopping the inevitable. So I did nothing.
We ascended up the stairs together. The smell of deep seeded rot grew heavier. It was in the stairs, in the walls, in wood and the furniture. Apart from the smell, everything looked normal, as if frozen in time. I could practically envision us running down the hallway playing tag.
That changed in the study.
Benny and I reached the door. Yellow police tape from when this was an active crime scene was still there. The rot was strongest here. Had the site of the murder never been cleaned?
As Benny turned the knob I swallowed back some anxious energy, and stowed it away in the same place that I threw that soul breaking pang in my heart.
Inside we found the desk, the books shelves, his father’s office chair. All of it was as it once was, except that now every inch of it was covered in a film of something that was muddy red. The sticky red room.
There was only one part of the study that was disturbingly clean of the muddy red source of the rot. The old machine.
It sat perched on the desk, slumbering and waiting. It was pristine. Its comically mundane beige casing was clean, and every piece and peripheral like the keyboard and attached phone were in mint condition. It was alien, how clean it was compared to everything else in the room.
Benny took a heavy breath, and stepped forward. He approached the old machine, examining it in the dying light of the sun.
“I’m going to need your help carrying this back home,” he said.
This would have been my second opportunity to say “no”. I should have, but again, why? All it would mean was another trip or two for him on his lonesome, and then I would just be the friend that bailed out on him halfway through something that seemed very important for him. So I said “okay.”
We gathered up the odd ends of the old machine. Benny carried the monitor, and I carried the thinking guts, and between us we shared the weight of the peripherals.
Once we were home, Benny got to work putting the thing back together. He seemed to fly into a manic fugue state. He worked rapidly to put the old machine together, connecting every odd end, beginning to sweat as he did so. His eyes became deranged, and then suddenly, with only the power cord left to plug in, he stopped.
He stared into the black abyss of the old machine’s monitor, and did nothing for a long minute that stretched out into eternity. Benny put the power cord down and shoved it into a box. I didn’t question this. If anything I was relieved. I hadn’t realized it until just then, but as Benny was putting the thing together I had started to feel a deadly pressure building in the back of my skull. I didn’t dare ask why he stopped, worried that I might accidentally reignite his resolve.
Together we chose to forget the old machine. Or so I thought.
The last few months of our senior year passed, and they were the best months I’d had with Benny in a long long while. I think collecting that beige heap of plastic, that old machine, it had brought something to a close for him. Whether it was simple catharsis or something more I’ll never know, but I’ll cherish those last few months for the rest of my life. It was the last I’d ever see of Benny again.
With college came real distance, and although we kept in touch through video and text, we never met in person, the times just never lined up. Benny was his own man, and although it brought a small amount of heartbreak to my parents that their adoptive son never seemed to find the time to visit them, they were more than anything glad to see that he at least seemed to be enjoying life. That was definitely the facade he sold on social media.
It was at the start of my second year at college that I got the first wisp that something was wrong with Benny. He sent me something, a file that I couldn’t open, in a format that I didn’t recognize. I thought it must be some kind of obscure meme, but when I couldn’t decipher it, I got a pit in my stomach and I sent him a brisk “wtf?”
He never replied.
It was the last of anything I would ever get from Benny personally. A few weeks later my parents contacted me to tell me that Benny had killed himself.
What followed was a rapid procession of life. That I somehow managed to continue to turn in my school work for the next week or so, was a fact. That I then used the following fall break to attend Benny’s funeral was also true. Mixed in there was a meeting with a lawyer that let me know that I was the sole inheritor of Benny’s estate. This all happened, and I have a very superficial recollection of it all. But in truth I was half a ghost myself. My body– no –my soul, had gone into a form of catatonia. I became an unchanging statue, a rock in the ever flowing stream of life. Things happened, but they seemed to flow past me in a ceaseless stream of almost memories.
On the last day of the fall semester, in a fit of pique depression, looking for something to occupy the void of my soul, I remembered the message that Benny had sent me. I redoubled my efforts to decipher the unknown file type, and scoured the internet for a decoder or playback device that would be able to read it for me. Eventually I stumbled on the answer. It was a type of sound file. With that information it was surprisingly simple to find an app to play it back.
I brought the file over to my phone, and loaded it into the app, and hit play. What came out were whispers. I dropped my phone like it was made of hot iron. The phone clattered to the floor, but kept playing the whispers, which remained just at the edge of audibility no matter how far away I retreated from them.
When it finished playing I was relieved. I also realized I had understood none of it. Unlike the whispers I had heard in my childhood, these had been unintelligible. I tried them again, but although I could hear something I could make out nothing. But I knew a way that I could. The old machine.
The next opportunity I got, I went home. I went back up to my room to look for the old machine, but of course it wasn’t there. It hadn’t been there for a long time. Benny had taken it with him when he went his own way during college. I had to ask my parents to help me find it, and they directed me to the garage, where boxes of Benny’s old things were piled up. Things he had taken with him and things that he had acquired while he was away at college. The old machine was packed into one of those boxes, with a sticky note on the screen. A phone number, possibly left there by Benny himself.
I took the box up to my old room and got to work putting the old machine back together. Slowly it came alive, and bit by bit I felt that dreadful pressure building in the base of my skull. As I connected the monitor to the thinking guts I felt a spark of awareness, as if I was suddenly in danger or being watched. As I connected the peripherals, the pressure around my skull grew heavier and I began to sweat. The feeling only intensified as I plugged the thing into the power, and it came to a pique when I finally connected the strange phone stand to the internet. It’s alive! Gods of all faith and creed, help me! It’s alive!
I turned it on.
The screen lit up, and I noticed that I’d forgotten to remove the sticky note that had been placed there. I ripped it off and crumpled it in my palm as I watched the old machine finish its startup sequence.
I’m not sure what I expected. I certainly hadn’t expected it to feel so normal, or look so mundane. The operating system was definitely proprietary but other than that it felt no more alien than Windows, or Apple. Navigating it felt as natural as anything.
I found the program that would allow me to interpret the whisper recording on my phone. It was the same one that would normally connect to the internet, except this time instead of letting the translator hear the bulky beige phone, I would put my smartphone up to the translator while the recording played. I did this, and for a few tense moments nothing seemed to happen, and then I noticed that something had been downloaded onto the desktop.
The file was called “Dad(1)” and for a moment I felt like an idiot. The “(1)” appearing after the word “Dad” suggested that a version of this file was already downloaded, and of course it would be, this was probably where Benny had sent me the file from. I checked the now translated file and saw that it was a video. The thumbnail showed a man sitting at his desk.
Benny’s dad.
My hand trembled as it reached for the mouse, and clicked on the video.
The video was a top down perspective of the study, and it started at 100, there was no buildup or context to what was happening on the screen. Benny’s father was skinning himself alive. The footage of it was grainy, and was twice as disturbing for it, because the more skin that Benny’s father peeled off the more grainy red pixels appeared on screen.
It was difficult to tell how much of this Benny’s father was doing of his own volition. Heavily pixelated expressions of agony played on his face. He twisted and squirmed, he writhed in pain and appeared to yell into the ceiling as he striped reels of flesh from his arm, and then his legs, and then his chest, and on and on. I couldn’t look away. As much as I wanted to look away I couldn’t, I was forced to watch by my own horribly morbid fascination. God help me. No. God forgive me. I. could. Not. Look. Away.
It was Benny’s father’s twisted and pained flailing that covered the study in blood, leaving the room red and sticky. How he produced so much blood, and in fact, how he had been able to remain conscious this whole time was a mystery to anyone. The act didn’t stop until a light appeared from offscreen, and then suddenly Benny’s mother barged into the study to see her screaming husband. He tried to skin her alive as well, but she fought back. They began to wrestle each other, slipping in the wet puddle of his blood. Soon the blood itself stopped being the worst thing on display, as the father’s viscera began to spill out of him, the membrane that had held it together inside his abdomen splitting open in the tussle. It was an awful scene, and still, I couldn’t look away.
The fight continued like that for some time. With the two of them on the ground, fighting for control of the knife that the father had used to skin himself alive. Even with half the father spilt and spread around the room it was a hard won victory for Benny’s mother. She finally managed to wrestle the knife away from the dying man, and plunged it into his chest, just as shadows appeared from the direction of the doorway. The mother broke down as police aimed their guns at her, and then the video ended.
“Did you like it?” appeared in text over the end of the video.
“What the fuck?” I remember saying out loud.
Why hadn’t Benny turned this in? I thought. His mom was dead, sure, but why not clear her name? Why hadn’t he told me straight away what he’d found? Why had he– I didn’t let myself ask that last question. Instead I unclenched my palm, and looked at the crumpled sticky note. If there was a logical answer to any of this, then maybe it was on the other end of that number. That’s what I told myself anyway.
I put my phone away, and picked up the phone attached to the old machine. It took a few tries to get the method of dialing correct– I’d never used a rotary style phone before, and I didn’t know how to spin the wheel to “dial” the number that I needed, but I managed it. The phone rang for a bit, and then the whispers started to erupt from whatever black beyond I called.
I placed the phone on the translator, and on the monitor, the desktop came alive. The old machine’s proprietary web browser opened and landed on a bare bones white webpage. It reminded me somewhat of a dark web directory.
The dark web isn’t as difficult to navigate as you might think. The difference between a dark web site and a regular one is that dark web sites are unlisted, meaning they don’t show up on search engines, and often they require special browsers and specific URLs. Those URLs are usually kept on some kind of surface web directory. This looked a lot like that. A list of URLs ran down the bare bones page in a ladder of blue.
They were hyperlinks, all of them, and one of them stood out to me immediately.
“Do you want to see how he did it?” It read.
It shouldn’t have freaked me out. There was no way that link could be talking about Benny, which is where my mind went first. There was simply no way.
So I clicked it. And I guess… there was. Somehow there was a way.
I won’t say what I saw. It wasn’t nearly as graphic as his father’s death. In that sense it wasn’t nearly as “interesting”, but even still I can’t bring myself to recount it. It’s too personal. In that way it was much much worse, so much worse. The look in his eyes… despair. There was something almost beautiful about it.
No.
There was something beautiful about it.
At the end of the video, a familiar message popped up.
“Did you like it?”
A box beneath the video asked for a reply. I typed one in.
“Do you want to see more?”
Another box. Another reply.
I saw more.

I am over it now i guess ( part of life experiences) but I want to improve to avoid it in the future because I don’t really fully understand what happened.
I had a presentation to senior management members of the company and there was at least ten of them (20+ yrs of experience within the company).
I prepared and practiced and everything but when I got up as I was going second in a group of four I said the transition correctly then said something wrong then said sorry I will repeat the first part then stuttered badly then tried to something else but with very shaky voice then I started another sentence then just paused and froze in the middle of the sentence for like a minute or maybe a little longer while they are staring at me and I am staring at them. I got embarrassed really by it.
During my pause I heard one of them saying something like “ I hope you’re okay” then a little after a top member asked me a normal question about my slide i guess to help me pick up.
I was able to pick up few seconds after that and just continued as if nothing happened ( myself trying to hide her reality as always) but maybe a little quicker and off script. I had to get up for a third time to present the last slide and conclude and was able to successfully do it confidently. Also, during the Q&A I was speaking confidently and answering.
In my mind, during my pause I was encouraging myself to keep going after just zoning out and disassociating completely. The funny thing is that I literally had my speaker notes written in front of me but i couldn’t read or talk or do anything I was just taking few glances at the audience ( idk i think i was hoping someone would help) but they all looked way too serious.
I feel like I scared the audience tbh and that none of it should have happened or was worth it but it just happened. The presentation was done by a group of four younger employees with few years of experience and I was hoping to show them strength instead of weakness especially that I was the only female in the group and that the management members were all males but I guess I showed them both and I felt like they pitied me.
The other members in my group were talking about some pills the night before but I was like “relax we won’t die” not knowing that this could happen. I was also afraid of the possibility of drug abuse so I totally disregarded it.
After this long story, the question is how can I get so much better at presenting? The issue with me is that I do excellent work but when I present I do not present like how people “can sell” what they are saying. Is there any sort of training ( in addition to Toastmasters) that gives you similar exposure so I can get used to it and present more compelling presentations to give my work the credit it deserves?

I need to select a working machine for my job within three days. The candidates are:

• 3-year-old Dell Precision 7550:
  • Intel Xeon W-10885M
  • 64GB RAM
• Brand new MacBook Pro 14:
  • M3 Pro Chip with 11‑Core CPU, 14‑Core GPU
  • 32GB RAM

I have already decided to stay on Windows. However, I'm wondering if I missed any important considerations in my assessment. If so, please point them out. Thank you.
Mac Pros:

• Very good build quality, lightweight
• Generally better cable/docking station setup
• In our team (30 people):
  • All backend team members (15 people) except one use Macs
  • 50% of the frontend team (4 out of 8 people) use Macs
    • Edit: I am in frontend team. Funny division: all junior frontend devs are in Macs, all seniors are on Windows.
  • Therefore, troubleshooting within the team (with dev tooling) should theoretically be easier

Mac Cons:

• No official company support for macOS yet
  • Only two people support Macs in our company (4300 employees in total). So for issues like the company proxy not working, I would need to rely on these two (hoping they are available and not on vacation). However, I’ve been with the company for three years, and the infrastructure has generally been very stable.
• In the future, I need to install and analyze products from other teams within the company. Our company is very Windows-focused. I have already analyzed two products:
  • One was orchestrated with Docker and worked smoothly on both Mac and Windows.
  • The other was a sh_t-show — it only runs directly on Windows. I tried it on Ubuntu VM (UTM, ARM) on Mac and in Windows WSL, but it didn’t work despite claimed potential Ubuntu support.
  • I fear that even if the next product supports Ubuntu, it will be for the amd64 architecture and not ARM. And I will have to do some troubleshooting myself.
  • I could theoretically order a Windows VM for the team in such cases, but it requires filling out forms, providing justification (and probably receiving counter-justification: why have you taken Mac if you also need Windows), etc.

Mac tie:

• Performance
• Previously, I worked for nine years on Windows, so I am more familiar with it. Initially, working on a Mac was a bit challenging, but I can generally adapt to Mac.

Considering these criteria, I think it is better to stay on Windows for now. Have I missed anything important in my considerations?

Last night i( F 32 )partied with my colleagues (all juniors except one) n after the dinner we started dancing. I got way too much excited n danced like no body's watching while I was being filmed. My colleagues sometimes just stopped dancing themselves n just watched me dancing.I knew then only that i would be looking funny and I forbade evryone to share the videos to any social media platform they agreed but I worry that they will share it with their friends as a supposedly drunk senior dancing with no care isn't very common here.( I wasn't drunk)
So, this morning they had sent one clip in our WhatsApp group n I look like drunk Bobby Deol not from Animal but his Soldier days.
Although there were atleast three rounds of applause for my dancing but Idc( as it's almost customary to appreciate a senior for anything) except for the fact that they now have my video(s) dancing like that 😭😭
Edit: Thank you for all the advice. Highly appreciated. I have realised a thing or two. I hope i can be like this in other areas of my life as well 💖

OK i need some advice badly. theres this guy (19M) who is one of my brothers friends who i just met and i think he might like me but idk. I (18F) am going clubbing for the first time in Singapore as i am now legal and he keeps telling me to wait until he comes back to go with him, and if i do go before i should facetime him so he can be part of my first experience; i also mentioned I'm taking a biology AP class for my senior year of HS and he said he was going to take bio 101 in college and that i should tutor him; plus he was laughing at my not so funny sarcastic jokes and really hyping me up when we were singing karaoke; idk if this is an indication that he likes me or not. The problem is my friend also likes this guy, and made it clear to me even before i started liking this guy, he has shown no interest in her and doesnt even talk to her at all, but i feel weird thinking he likes me and sorta liking him when she made it clear she thinks hes cute.

**Disclaimer: my father is not your normal AP! He is significantly more loving and caring, which is why I don't know how to feel...
Just turned 21 and have recently been thinking about how much easier my life would be if my AP were dead. In fact, I have been kind of impatiently waiting for it.... I don't know if this is normal or if I should seek help. If I should seek help, please let me know, because I don't want to be this awful person.
Up until last year, I would have said that I loved my dad fiercely and would feel incredibly distraught if he died. I would have said that he is the one person I love most in my entire life. But lately my mindset has taken a turn. Maybe it's because I moved out for college at 18 and experienced the freedom of independent living. I spent my summers living off internship/job money in different states and was incredibly happy. However, I have just graduated and moved back home for the summer (trying to look at my options and pick up a summer job before starting a FT position this fall - don't yet know if I will move back out), and I think that that is part of what has spurred this line of thought.
I feel incredibly guilty for thinking this way because of everything that my AP has provided for me. Not to mention that he does actually love me - unlike my mom, he remembers the things I tell him; we have deep conversations; we both have very similar senses of humor. Moreover, he is NOT like a normal Asian dad. He is in fact pretty liberal (I mean, he is a Republican and a T supporter like a lot of Asian parents, but he actually supports gay people, abortion, doesn't mind other races, etc.). He has kept everything I made for him when I was a child. He is extremely physically affectionate (hugs, kisses, cuddles). And he has provided me for financially my entire life - paid for my entire college tuition, always made sure I had resources.
However, I feel like I am trapped under his thumb and feel like his death is my only way out. He has always clearly loved me and I am very grateful for not having to question that, but I feel like his love is very controlling and possessive as well. I spent the first 16 years of my life getting beaten by him, not just in a disciplinary way but whenever he was angry. He would hit me whenever he was having a bad day, which was often. From ages 12 to 15 he was hitting me pretty much every single day. Sometimes, after a stressful day at work, he would not even say anything to me.... He would just come right up to wherever I was (usually doing homework at the table) and just throw me out of the chair and backhand me across the face. I was a total spaz as a kid - I have few memories of my childhood but I remember being really embarrassed one time when my soccer coach held out a jersey for me to take and for some reason his hand being raised 10 feet away made me flinch. It was so awkward! (Although I can laugh about it now.) He gave me a few concussions, burns and bruises. Even though he never hit particularly hard (the strikes usually just left red marks or contusions), it really fucked me up mentally.
But the physical stuff was never what impacted me most. Really it was the verbal stuff. In the grand scheme of things I can firmly say that my beatings were never that bad, even completely insignificant when compared to some of my friends' families; however, I can also say with certainty that his verbal abuse would give anyone a run for their money. He would constantly tell me to kill myself. When he found out about my self-harming in middle school, he held out a knife and told me to do it deeper next time. He would say that he hoped he would die so I would learn something. When my grandparents, who raised me since my parents were always working, died, he told me that he was glad they died so they wouldn't have to pretend they loved me or have to see the disgusting creature I had become. He has told me that no one would ever love me, that every man in my life just wants to rape me, that none of my friends are real, that no one would talk to me if not for him (he's really charismatic and sociable and so charms every parent, who in turn encourages their kids to talk to me). He has degraded me so many times that insults pretty much mean nothing to me anymore.
Normal friendly banter in my household isn't differentiated by what he says to me; it's differentiated by whether he wants to make me cry or whether he just thinks he's being funny. If I think it's the latter, I just let it go and laugh with him. Otherwise I would never be able to have a normal conversation with him. When he is in a good mood, he just jokes lightly about me being ugly or never having accomplished anything in life. That's how I can tell he isn't trying to hurt me. But when he is trying to hurt me, his tone changes completely and he will talk for hours about how much I disgust him and what a failure I am and how my life is worthless. I don't even think he knows at this point how to speak nicely to me or give me compliments. Even our normal conversations are littered with light insults. Even when I was 4 years old, there was this one time where he kept telling me that I was ugly like SpongeBob (this is so funny to think about in hindsight) and I started crying, and he just kept laughing at me. I still have no idea why he did that. I mean what even was the point. I could not have conceivably done anything wrong at 4, so he literally just wanted to hurt me.
I have nightmares of him. Any nightmares I have are of him... I have never (and I mean never) had a good dream about him in my life. I have nightmares of him killing me, hitting me, screaming at me, raping me. Once I had a nightmare of me killing him and that woke me up in a panic because it felt so real, and I was terrified I had become a monster.
I used to think I was a horrible kid. I would cry a lot and think I should kill myself so that no one would have to deal with me. I would find it hard to imagine that anyone could actually like me. Even now, I struggle with this in romantic relationships and luckily have a great boyfriend who compliments me all the time, but it's still hard for me to understand how my boyfriend could possibly like me. I'm lucky I had good friends all throughout high school who would tell me the exact opposite of what my dad was or I would probably be an asocial wreck of a person.
I think what mostly changed my mindset is seeing how much my dad tried his absolute hardest to destroy my self-esteem. He loved me a lot but it is hard for me to contemplate how you could also hurt someone so much without knowing what you are doing. I can excuse it more if he didn't know, but how could he not know? Actually, a few months ago he texted me and kind of apologized. He said that he was driving past my high school and suddenly remembered all the things he would do to me before school, and said that it must have made going to school very difficult and that he was sorry. He said that he just wanted the best for me and that I will understand when I'm a parent. His text ended up sending me into a panic attack. I just don't understand how someone could say these things. I'm also fed up with the excuse that APs were not taught how to communicate and so just don't know how to express themselves. They are old ass adults, you're telling me they never learned on their own? I was raised to NOT communicate if anything, but I think my father giving me the silent treatment when he was upset at me really taught me the importance of using your words.
I just don't understand why APs can't just compliment their kids at least once, just once. I waited so long for my father to compliment me... I skipped a grade, I went to a great high school, I got into T30s, I had a social life, I am thin and look fine, I was MVP several times for sports, I graduated with honors, I landed a job at a great firm... Now I'm not a doctor, an Ivy League grad, not a T20 grad, did not get any academic scholarships, am not making six figures out of college. But for most families that would be pretty fucking solid, right? I spent my whole life waiting for him to say something nice to me. At my college graduation was the first time I ever heard him say "Congrats." I used to think I was such a fucking failure but now that I'm older and look back on it, I was a good kid to have. Not like the best, not amazing, not remarkable, but at least a normal well-behaved kid. So what the fuck did I do wrong?
When I got into a great high school, he hit me for not getting into the 2 schools that ranked higher in the area. When I got into the college he actually said he liked and wanted me to go to, he suddenly switched up as if them accepting me meant that it was not good anymore. At 20 years old, he was still giving me shit for the high school I went to! He still hates that my applications at 12 years old were not better! He always says I don't try when I try so damn hard. I used to think that he loved me because at least he saw that I had potential, unlike my mom who always seemed to expect the worst from me and did not really pay attention to my life. But nowadays I think that it was just a manipulation tactic to get me chasing a bar I would never be able to reach. When I got my first internships, he said they sucked. When I landed a major business internship, he said that business is for whores and that I should prepare to get raped by all the men in my workplace because they WILL want to rape me. When I got a job at that same firm, the only thing he said to me was "How much money are you making?" and was disappointed when I told him. He laughed and told me that I would never make enough to move out permanently and that I should just give up now because now he's stuck taking care of me for the rest of my life since I can't seem to accomplish anything worthwhile. I had bad panic attacks after every single one of these conversations and none of them were even in-person, just over the phone. After the job phone call, I remember running outside of my apartment and throwing up behind a dumpster and then lying on the dirty ground and crying.
I have yearned my whole life for him to just be proud of me but now I don't want that anymore. I want him to be gone so I can mourn for a bit and then move on with my life and live the great adult life I know I could have. I feel like he is holding me back mentally and sometimes I wish he would just fucking leave my life. I dream of a day where I can just be free of everything and everyone and all expectations. Where I don't have to hide my relationships or my tattoos (lol) or my dreams. Where I don't have to be pretty and skinny and get an Asian husband and make babies with him for my grandparents; where I don't have to be a constant failure to my father. Not to mention my grandparents have made everything worse because they have pitted all the families against each other and so I'm in constant competition with my cousins. Every semester growing up (from kindergarten to senior year of college) they would line up the grandkids' transcripts and go through each one. It fucking sucked. And everyone knew exactly how the other kids were doing. I used to feel so detached and isolated from my family because we all hated each other, although I have since resolved things with my cousins as an adult (I am the youngest, so the last to have to put up with the academic competition) and am grateful to have so much family.
He loves me but I think he is a cruel person and, as much as his death would probably hurt, I think I would be better off without him. I'm so tired of having to love people just because they financially support me. I harbor zero feelings in my heart for much of my family and only wish that I could have had the big happy family that I could have so easily had. Most people would say that I'm just selfish and ungrateful, and perhaps that is true as well, but it just blows my mind how different my life could have been if my family were just composed of nice people. Like it seriously is beyond crazy to me how perfect my life would be if they were just kind. It's not like we live in a war torn country or are in deep poverty or have people dying of terminal illness. We're literally just fucking mean to each other. That is just so ridiculous!
Sorry. This post has just become one long hate-filled ramble. I just feel kind of crazy right now...

I think it’s been three months since dday, and when my world turned apart, but boy does it feel like longer.
AP reached out wanting to apologize but I declined. She still found a way to send me a letter. In it, she admits that she deliberately targeted WH, who was her mentor, for “fun,” and to see that she could “steal” a man.
To give you an idea of the level of intent, I am fairly known in my industry so my birthday is public. She had hounded him (even using work emails) to set the first date on my birthday. I was horrified by the malice and that these kind of people walk amongst us.
Funnily enough, within 2 weeks of that first encounter, WH was fired from his executive position. AP was also fired from her managerial position a few weeks later.
WH finally saw the light from his firing. It turns out being distracted like that can cost your job when you make a mistake. And no job means no respect from his peers so his ego took a hit.
WH also tried to inform me that AP was devastated as her work meant everything to her and she was supporting her family - ironic given the actions she took to jeopardize her career. I’m surprised he still tried to make me empathize for her loss when I have a life sentence of this pain that I didn’t consent to.
AP is currently working in the worst area of town (senior positions aren’t readily accessible when your current company fired you for unethical actions), with a three hour daily commute. She’s also on half the salary, on an entry level position and blacklisted from managerial positions for five years.
They both lost their homes too and are facing health problems.
The funny thing is I was so ashamed by the affair I never told anyone. I had mentioned to his family that WH strangled me and became violent, but they didn’t do anything to hold him accountable. I will never forget that feeling of loneliness and wished my own parents were alive to protect me.
So losing their jobs, homes and health was totally their own karma.
To those in the deep abyss of hell, you’re so much more resilient than you can imagine. Gather evidence, expose the affair and heal. One day you’ll emerge from this so much brighter.
Sending you all love, strength and hope.
TLDR; AP and WH lost their jobs and homes within 3 months of dday. AP deliberately targeted WH, is currently demoted, blacklisted from managerial positions and has half the salary in her entry level position. WH’s peers have cast him out after his firing.

OK i need some advice badly. theres this guy (19M) who is one of my brothers friends who i just met and i think he might like me but idk. I (18F) am going clubbing for the first time in Singapore as i am now legal and he keeps telling me to wait until he comes back to go with him, and if i do go before i should facetime him so he can be part of my first experience; i also mentioned I'm taking a biology AP class for my senior year of HS and he said he was going to take bio 101 in college and that i should tutor him; plus he was laughing at my not so funny sarcastic jokes and really hyping me up when we were singing karaoke; idk if this is an indication that he likes me or not. The problem is my friend also likes this guy, and made it clear to me even before i started liking this guy, he has shown no interest in her and doesnt even talk to her at all, but i feel weird thinking he likes me and sorta liking him when she made it clear she thinks hes cute.
I truly have no idea what to do