Do re mi rodgers and hammerstein

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Marc gave it another go. He tipped his hand forward. The silver patty rolled off him, dropping toward the cave floor.
It stopped short of hitting the path. The shiny disc halted in the air, dangling at the end of a thin white line.
He watched the small wheel spin. It might have been the most fun he’d had all year. Even more fun than that mud puddle he’d found the other day.
How does it keep going? Marc thought to himself. And without any power??
Marc assumed the disc was some sort of technological marvel from the past. But the Archives had little information on it, only a name. It was called a “yo-yo.”
They all must have had one of these, he posited.
As Marc walked down the stone ramp, he cast the yo-yo again. The toy’s quiet spin was the only sound in the cavern. The soft hiss of string versus metal reverberated gently in the spacious cave.
Marc focused all his attention on the little gadget. He was determined to enjoy every last minute of the universe, no matter what. And that evening, the yo-yo more than accomplished that goal.
The shimmering yo-yo, however, couldn’t prevent the world around him from crumbling. The ground started to rumble. The rest of the cave shook with it. The underground city shook as the plasma storm above battered it—and the rest of the planet.
Marc’s home broke down. Cracks appeared in the ceiling. Waterfalls of dust poured out of them. It wouldn't be long before the whole thing collapsed. That is, if the plasma storm didn’t swallow it whole first.
Whatever.
A few clumps of dirt wouldn’t ruin Marc’s fun. He pulled the hood of his shawl over his head and extended his ragged sleeves toward each hand. His clothes shielded him from the falling dust; the gritty particles made themselves at home on his messy shawl. And Marc was free to perfect his newest trick.
The rumbling died down though as Marc descended the ramp. The yo-yo string didn’t wobble so much, and he didn't have to watch his steps as carefully. He just hoped the quaking wouldn’t come back to ruin his event.
Speaking of which, Marc glanced ahead toward his destination below. What he saw rocked him even harder than the earthquake had.
What in the sinkpits…?
Marc stopped in his tracks. He even started to reach for his knife. All because he’d detected a speck of something suspicious. Something he didn't see much of every day: color.
Showy landmarks weren’t something endemic to his home. The Outpost was more of a dusty gray-and-brown sort of place. The walls were sandstone. The floor was sandstone. And the ceiling? …Granite?
No, sandstone. All under the faint glow of a string of depressed lightbulbs.
The intriguing blip in the gray-and-tan collage was farther up the path. Ahead of the ramp, on Level 8, Marc saw the same three steel doors he was used to seeing. The front doors of underground homes, lined up in a row, each closed into the cave wall.
However, there was something different about the third door. It looked… alive. Like it didn’t belong in a dreary place like the Outpost. But it was too far away to tell what exactly had been done to it.
Marc squinted at it suspiciously. The third door happened to be his destination. And now it was weird.
He considered waiting and observing the mutated door. A child of the Outpost, Marc had developed a healthy fear of the unusual.
These habits, along with his instincts, kept him safe. They’d specifically preserved him while the rest of humanity perished.
But he shrugged off the instinct to wait. Something new and “different” was ahead, and he wanted to see it.
But just as a precaution, it was time for his yo-yo’s last trick. He got in one final throw then placed the toy into his satchel. He dropped it on top of his arsenal of cables, wrenches, and screwdrivers.
And by the time he’d snapped the satchel shut, the long ramp had bottomed out. He’d made it to the next level.
To his left, the wall had been spray-painted. Scrawled-out black letters stood against the sandy background. They stated, “Now Level 8.”
Marc followed the sign. He stayed close to the wall, crossing to the stone pedestrian path. He passed one untouched steel door with a dusted-over mail slot in the wall beside it. Then he passed a second home—abandoned like the first. And finally, he arrived at his friend’s place and the mysterious blip on Level 8.
To his surprise, the steel door elicited a flush of emotion. His heart floated upward. And the portrait before him drew his focus in like an otherworldly beacon.
How did it get so…?
Marc pulled back his hood. The ground popped with the sandy grains he released.
He could hardly believe the difference. The door used to blend in with the others: another ridged steel face that spent most of its time rusting or collecting dirt.
But it was no longer muffled by the dust and dirt that had built up over the years.
Today, it sung. Paint streaks flew across its visage. They swirled and spiraled, forming stars and other shapes. Where previously gray and rust dominated, colors sprang forth—colors that Marc didn't even have the names for. They were many, and they were warm, like the evening sky just after sunset. Marc could hardly wrap his head around the entire image.
He swelled with gratitude.
Only you could have pulled this off. He thought of his friend, the painter. The one person in the colony who’d ever been any fun. The one other person in the colony who was left…
The artist had done the unthinkable. Foraging the garden below for something other than food. Spending work time measuring and concocting the perfect blends of paint. And then slathering their fingers across the giant door, until its old face was but a memory. And all that effort for only a single other person to appreciate.
Newly inspired, Marc searched for an unpainted space on the metal canvas. He found one and knocked on the door.
He took a step back and waited. The outside of the Outpost was lively. Excited wind rushed through the canyon.
By contrast, the Outpost itself was silent. If there was anyone left to say anything, they may have even called it “dead.”
Or nearly dead, anyway. The last morsel of it came to life as the door in front of Marc groaned.
It floated off the ground, inching upward. On the other side, Marc could hear a hand crank clicking away.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The corrugated door lifted, and the door rolled up. The tip of the artist’s painting started to slip from view.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
Behind the door, chains reeled at a slow clip. The heavy curtain was halfway up. Marc could now see his best friend's lower half. Buff Lenorkian legs pumped back and forth with each crank.
The door unveiled even more of the owner. A torso in a metal suit appeared. Four ripped arms stretched out of it. They rotated, moving to the clicking beats of the door.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The door raised a few inches further, uncovering the bottom half of a cobalt blue face. Two rows of razor-sharp teeth smiled from ear to ear. A few inches more, and Marc could see the whole of the Lenorkian’s face.
Sid greeted Marc as the last of the door raised.
“Finally!” he said.
Marc didn’t get a chance to respond. His body lurched forward involuntarily. He slammed into Sid’s metal suit.
Crrrrrick!
The armor squealed as Sid’s upper two arms squeezed him tighter. The lower set of arms had reeled Marc in.
Marc hated hugs. Stupid mushy emotional wraparounds. But just this one final time, Marc returned the gesture. He squeezed Sid back.
“Happy Worlds’ End!” Sid said from the other side of the embrace.
“Yeah,” Marc replied, “Happy Worlds’ End.”
The two separated.
“Cool painting, by the way,” Marc said. He pointed at the rolled-up door. “I didn’t think you’d top the one in the garden.”
“You think so?” Sid sheepishly smiled. “Well I’ve had more time to practice since… you know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Marc said. “Me too. That’s how I actually got you something.”
Marc swung his heavy satchel around. He rifled through it, squeezing through cables, knocking handles and parts out of the way. And then—ah.
He fished out a crumpled rag. Holding it in one hand, he began to gently unfold it.
“I found this a few days ago in the garden,” he said. The edges of the cloth fell. They revealed a small, glass object. It sparkled.
Marc continued, “I think it fits your style—I mean, I know it’s a little smudged and chipped but...”
He swirled the crystal trinket around. The cavern’s incandescent light flittered across its clear edges.
He touched it too, tracing the slender portion of it with his thumb. It was the neck of the crystal swan.
“It’s yours,” Marc said, offering up the bird.
Sid cupped two shovel-sized hands and accepted the gift.
“It’s beautiful…” he said, examining it. “I can’t believe anything like this could have survived this long.” He looked up at Marc and smiled, “Thank you so much. I just wish I had a little longer to could enjoy it.”
They chuckled lightly about their impending obliteration.
“Well, come on in,” Sid said. He extended both of his left arms. They gestured toward the cave interior. “We’ll finish off this universe how it started,” he said. He mashed his upper two fists together. “With a bang!”
“I hear that!” Marc nodded. He crossed over into Sid’s house.
As Marc passed Sid, a wave of discomfort hit him. Sid had switched out his usual t-shirt and jeans. He wore old armor instead. And the metal plating taunted Marc.
Marc’s next question came out more accusatory than curious.
“So… a Lenorkian throwback, huh?” he asked Sid.
Sid had just finished finding the perfect home for his swan. He left it on a shelf next to the front door.
He turned to face Marc. He hid his embarrassment behind a jagged smile.
“Oh!” he said. “Uhhh…” Three of Sid’s arms disappeared behind his back. The cone-shaped cuffs at the end of each wrist clanked against the back of his chest armor. The fourth arm nervously scratched his blue head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It's stupid, I guess. I can take it off… if you want.”
Marc didn’t want to address the topic head-on. He stopped in the cave’s entry. He pretended to admire the walls—as if he’d never seen sandstone before.
“No, leave it on,” he said. “You look… like a true Lenorkian.” He turn around and forced a smile.
It wasn’t enough.
“Okay, let’s get this out of the way,” Sid said. He marched up to Marc.
Sid took a deep breath before he spoke.
“Tonight's really important to me,” he continued. “This is the last impression anyone’s going to make on the universe. So I need you on board.” He continued staring down at Marc. “Can you do that? For me?”
Marc didn’t see what the big deal was. It was just a couple of best friends hanging out.
“Yeah, why not?” he shrugged. “End it the way it started.”
The exchange turned into awkward silence. Neither knew what to do next. They had never been in a situation like this before—never attended such an event. What the Archives called: a par-ty.
Sid shook off the figurative mask he’d been wearing—one that was uncharacteristically dour. His eyes lightened, and he bobbed his head knowingly.
“I went through the Archives to see how this works,” he said. He walked toward the long horizontal counter against the wall—the kitchen.
On the counter, chaos ran wild. Bowls and kitchenware spread across the surface. And the insides of his pots and pans resembled the dirty mouth of a garbage chute.
Marc wasn’t sure what to think. Was cleaning the host’s kitchen a staple of ancient parties?
Sid too seemed a bit confused. His next words came out robotically, as if he was practicing a new word he’d learned.
“’Can-I-offer-you-a-drink?’” Sid asked. He stood nervously in front of the counter.
Looking closer at it, three unusual objects stood apart from the kitchenware mess. It took Marc a while to remember what their outdated, bendy material was called.
Plastic. Three pink and plastic cups sat equidistant from one another.
“I got these from here,” Sid reached under the counter and pulled up some sort of transparent bag. Pink cups just liked the others were stacked on top of each other inside.
Sid packed the bag back under the counter.
“So?” he asked after he finished. He held all four hands together in anticipation. His smile may have looked like an industrial-grade rock shredder, but it was hard to resist his innocent blue face and big wide eyes.
Marc eyed the pink cups one last time.
“This better not kill me,” he said.
Sid wasted no time. He excitedly grabbed a cup and walked over to a large pot sitting on the counter.
Using a nearby ladle, he plunged into the vat. An unappetizing sloshing sound resulted. And Sid, as strong as he was, seemed to struggle with scooping out some of the mystery liquid. But in the end, he pulled back the ladle and unloaded an opaque, muddy liquid into the cup.
“It's a homeworld classic called fludge,” Sid said as he finished pouring.
He treaded over to his reluctant friend and handed off the plastic cup.
“Did you say ‘fludge’?” Marc asked. He swished the cup around cautiously. The earthy liquid hardly budged.
“Yeah, fludge! Us Lenorkians invented it. It’s kind of the only tasty thing we ever bothered to make.”
Marc sniffed it. It smelled… burnt? Maybe a little dusty, too? But he could have just been smelling the cave.
Sid left Marc alone with Marc’s questionable new assignment. He returned to the pot to pour himself a drink.
“Just try it!” he said.
Marc looked down again at the dark soup. It could kill him. Or maybe it wouldn't.
Either way, it was his last drink.
He took a timid sip and waited to be repulsed. The fludge trickled to the back of his tongue. As it hit, Marc’s eyes widened. But not with regret.
He swallowed.
“Now wait a minute…” he said. He smacked his lips together. Then he took another, larger sip.
This curious dark liquid had a unique taste to it. The taste was earthen—but unoffending. It also had a subtle undercurrent of sweetness to it, combined with a spicy kick. It was delicious.
“This might be the best drink in the entire Outpost!” Marc exclaimed.
Pure joy bloomed on Sid’s face. “See! I told you: the greatest thing we ever made.”
He held his own cup above his open jaws. The falling fludge was no match for the alien. He guzzled it down, licked his lips, and then went back for more.
As Sid fashioned himself another drink, Marc noticed something a tad unsettling. A third pink cup stared back at him. It prompted an uncomfortable thought, but he shoved the thought back down.
The Lenorkian carried back his second drink. Though this time, he took it in small, human-sized sips.
But he quickly reanimated. In the middle of a sip, Sid got a wild look in his eyes. His irises turned from their natural violet to scarlet. He yanked the cup from his face and swallowed.
“Argh, how did I forget?” he said. “I got music!”
Marc cut his sip short too. “No way. You got music?”
“I think so!”
Sid did an about face. He slammed the half-empty cup on the counter. Then he shuffled toward a giant metal column protruding from the far wall. Four ink-blue hands wrapped around the cover of the vent. And he went for it.
Sid struggled to pull off the cover of the vent at first. His armor ballooned around his biceps as his muscles bulged outward. Yet the cover wouldn't budge.
But it seemed like an important part of his evening plans. He scolded the stubborn vent, banging on its top.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” he said. He latched onto the vent again.
This time, he put even more effort in. To the point where Marc sensed that Sid was losing a grip on his own body. Out of his forehead, two thumb-sized cones began to rise. His breathing turned low and raspy. And his whole body seemed to expand as he repositioned himself for leverage. Then with one final pull, like a wild beast, he let out of a deep, guttural roar.
“HAWRRRRRRRRRRRGGH!” The roar echoed off the cave walls.
And with that, the stubborn vent cover finally popped off. A breath of wind pulsed through the room as the air pressure equalized itself.
But the wind wasn’t finished. After the initial pulse exited, a mighty gust picked up where the original pulse left off. The vent shot more wind into the room, but rapidly, like a storm. Tiny coarse particles rattled inside the duct. And in the room, a rush of wind whipped past Marc’s face. He felt little nips across his exposed skin as it passed him.
Both partiers shielded their faces from the most direct blasts of air. Sid smiled nervously as he looked to Marc. He raised his voice over the whining airstream.
“It’s from the sandplains above!” he said in an elevated voice. “I thought we’d use the sandstorm for music! Do you like it?”
Music… Marc wasn’t exactly an expert. Even though humans were said to be naturals at it, not much on the subject had made it into the Archives. The Outpost didn’t have much of it either. The closest he got was the occasional chant, stray birds twittering about, or maybe someone banging on rocks.
But Marc did know one thing on the subject. Where there was music, there was dancing.
That said, he had never danced before either. But a long time ago, his parents told him it was something all humans could do. It was something they carried in their blood. Once humans found a pattern in music, they could match it to their body language. And once they’d synced melody and movement, they could ride that wave to a whole new experience.
Might as well give it a shot, he thought. Marc too put his cup on the counter.
With his hands free, Marc backed up toward the middle of the room. He closed his eyes, felt the wind. It filled his ears with its gusty energy. It hit him in pumps as the storm raged above.
Though not totally predictable, the wind did hit him consistently. There was some sort of kinetic pattern to it.
Yes, a pattern.
Well actually, he’d heard it called by another name. What was that word his mother had used? He opened his eyes when he remembered: rhythm.
Marc stretched out his arms. He relaxed his hips. He felt the wind’s whips and waves across his arms. He let his arms follow them, swaying with the current. Not long after, his hips joined in. They too gyrated, trying to match the energetic gusts. He kept at it. And the first time Marc felt both himself and the wind moving together, he grinned.
“This is amazing!” he said. Around them, the wind crooned.
Sid was entranced. He nodded back while staring at Marc’s strange movements. He’d never really seen dancing either. But he figured he would give it a shot too. He loosened up his arms and walked onto the dance floor with Marc.
Before dancing himself, he studied Marc first. He watched how the scavenger moved his arms—and when the scavenger moved his arms.
Sid’s limbs followed. Four muscular arms rose in the air, like fighter jets on their way to a dogfight. And on a one or two second delay, they swayed after Marc’s.
For a while, they followed Marc completely. Then Sid went down his own path. The Lenorkian’s movements grew aggressive and battle-like. He punched at the wind swiping across him. He shuffled his feet as if swapping battle stances.
He caught Marc’s curiosity. Even as a novice, Marc could tell Sid’s movements weren’t traditional by any means. But to Marc, it was dancing all the same.
The two danced to the chorus of the air above. They laughed occasionally as changes in the rhythm of the wind tripped them up. In his head, Marc compared it to the painting on Sid’s door. The colony had never seen anything like this either.
Then something interrupted their dancing. The ground beneath them shook, throwing them off their feet. Heavy gray dirt trickled from the ceiling as the entire cave rumbled. And outside, the distant sky flashed and crackled. Its light illuminated the cave in violent spurts as the boys struggled to stand back up.
Eventually, the violent quaking and frightening flashes died down. The plasma storm held its breath once again.
The boys got back on their feet, but all the joy had seeped out of Sid’s face. He just stared at the floor in deep contemplation. Even as the windy music started back up.
Marc figured he would rescue his friend from whatever dark thoughts had turned up. Naturally, the end of the universe was a real bummer.
“End of the world got you down, huh?” He tried to laugh it off. The whole situation was pretty sad. Especially when they were having so much fun. But it was best to end the universe on a high note, right?
Nevertheless, Sid seemed dejected. He mumbled something inaudible.
“Dude, I can’t hear over the song!” Marc said in an elevated voice.
Sid spoke up over the wind. “That’s not what I’m upset about,” he said, his voice still fairly low.
“Then what are you upset about?”
Sid blurted out his response. “Because I invited Tōn-E, okay?”
He couldn’t bring himself to look Marc in the eye. Because he knew what was coming.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” Marc shouted over the music. Marc himself stomped over to the vent. He picked the cover off the floor—though he struggled quite a bit with it. It was heavier than Sid made it look. But he hoisted it back into the mouth of the vent. The music shut off. The steady drop of sand on the cave floor ceased.
“Say that again,” he leveled in Sid’s direction.
“What was I supposed to do?” Sid remade eye contact. “Not invite the only other intelligent being to the last party the universe will ever have?”
Marc needed no time to answer. He nodded insistently. “Yes. That was exactly what you were supposed to do. What the hell, Sid?” Marc would have continued, but there was another disturbance outside. He caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway.
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Thanks for reading some of my words :) I’m trying stuff out, so let me know what you think.
The rest of the story is here
Based on this prompt

Every time I listen to these guys it just seems so fitting with all the 90s emo stuff and even The Hated. Not sure if I’m the only one who notices it but I sure do love the hell out of them. To me, they’re just as emo as Weezer, as in they could’ve been emo but just weren’t.

Hello guys! Hope your all doing well in your personal lives.
I know I’m doing alright doing the best I can. I wanted to ask on my current situation on what I should do next with this girl I’ve been talking to for 4 months.
I met her 4 months ago on Instagram and we kicked it off from there. I hit her up and we start talking and calling here and there. We then went out on a few dates and it went by great. We talked a lot more and stuff but I realized that from what I like, my love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. Hers are the complete opposite she doesn’t really invite to hold hands, or ask for hugs or anything within that bracket. The connection is definitely there as for as vibes and speaking and doing things but in terms of deep connection I just don’t feel it.
I like her a lot and like her personality and find her attractive. But usually whenever I speak to a girl I really liked in the past I would have been deeply into them within 4 months. But this girl has been different and till now I don’t feel it only because she doesn’t want to display it.
Mind you I’ve been seeing her a lot so it would only make sense she’s as comfortable as me. She seems very comfortable we have deep convos and nothing is off or bad about her it’s just she doesn’t satisfy my need for love whenever we’re together.
I started acting abit off after continuously softly telling her that “hey I just feel like I’m not feeling much from ur end in terms of giving love” and she told me she’s trying and she is super slow with that stuff. I told her like I’m here to grow with her so idm it’s just like we have gotten much much closer that we’re about to label us together and your still not even asking for a hug or a kiss.
Anyway we haven’t really talked in like 5 days now and she hasn’t chased me at alll or bothered to top up and see how I am doing . We have had arguments before and even then I would still text her and try to talks our differences but whenever something like this happens she’s super non-chalant and laid back and doesn’t really put the effort.
Should I text her first again trying to speak to her face to face or should I just let it go?

Alright trying not to be melodramatic. I’ve been “best friends” with someone for 3-4 years now, have hung out with them many many times despite us being incredibly different types of people. Now we are both going off to college
The thing is I don’t want to be friends anymore. It sucks I feel guilty I’ve been making excuses as not to hang out (not at all proud of this) but I just dread every time I get a text from this person and I’ve begun this past year to actually resent them as a person?? It’s not fair of me yeah and I feel two faced when I complain about them but then continue to hang out and fuel the friendship because “I feel bad”
Basically I’m looking for advice. We are going to go to the same college this upcoming year and I’ve no idea how to go about this. Do I text them, do I tell them in person, a phone call? This person considers me a part of their family, the closest person to them and I am a complete fraud in every sense of the word. I’m the person they’re excited to tell things, the first person they call in an emergency but they are not at all this person for me. I could go months without talking to them and not feel any type of way about it
My fear of conflict is really complicating things at the moment :’))
Anyway thanks whoever has read this

I have always been weird and I know that, it’s just that there’s a “good weird” and a “bad weird” and it makes me feel like shit because no matter how hard I try it seems like there’s nothing I can do to fix it. This is both with friends AND potential romantic interests (which usually would start as friends lol). I won’t go into a whole spiel since that’s my issue, but my whole life I have had an issue of just saying everything that I feel- obviously this has made me come across as blunt and very honest, but I’ve gotten a lot of compliments from people that say they like it because they know I won’t BS them.
Unfortunately though, a lot of the time it also seems to put people off. I have autism and ADHD, and rejection sensitive issues have been something I’ve had issues with a lot so I genuinely might be overreacting about something small. I can’t tell, but sometimes I’ll say something as a joke and someone will be like “I think we should stop talking now” or “I’m just not gonna ask.” They usually say it while laughing but I don’t know if they mean I made them uncomfortable or not. Now, before anyone asks it’s not offensive weird or anything like that. I just will go off on weird tangents and infodump about things.
I will also say I know I am a very good communicator in person. People have told me they like that I seem very down to earth, but I’m very good at talking to people as well. Even though I have the trademark autistic issues with socializing, no one has ever said I talk over them or things like that. I just like opening up to people, and I show my full personality even if we aren’t super close. I feel like faking who I am would just be pointless, but it does make me sad because sometimes I really do feel like I’m just so weird it’s hard for people to like me. I have only a few friends, but I started talking to two girls recently because they are mutual friends. But I really feel like I come across as too weird.
I might be overreacting because I asked one to hang out once and she texted me saying she “100% considers me a friend” just days ago, but I keep second guessing myself. I try to tell myself that’s just their humor style (they’re very blunt and have sarcastic/fake mean humor so sometimes I perceive it as them not liking me when that may not be true). Even worse, I was planning on moving to a big city soon (I’m a college of 2k right now and may transfer to one with 60k) and if it becomes clear that I am objectively a bad weird, I really don’t know what I would do.
Am I just overreacting? Or should I stop talking to them/change how I act? I’d like to say since I have a decent amount of friends that means it can’t be ALL bad, but I really don’t know.

So, I was doing pretty well immediately post-hospital (still thankful for the surgery, but we’re deep in the daily trenches of non-linear healing, will explain in a moment) but have hit a big dip in mood & healing & could use some positives to look forward to.
The sticky details: my stoma was moved and the incision from the original location opened up and now requires packing every other day with Aquacel & covering before applying the wafer, which sucks & hurts and is a lot more work than just the healing stoma. (Changing the entire bag setup in the exam room, when having OCD was a FEAT.)
Then my suprapubic incision has decided to randomly weep (I say weep, but it likes to literally pour out at inconvenient times) sticky clear-ish serous fluid just randomly.
And to top it off, my bum-wound isn’t healing so well so we had to drive (how the heck do people sit in the car?!) 40 mins out to Mission Bay on a Friday before a Giants game (the drive back was 1 hour plus, but I was asleep) to get it looked at. The verdict is packing it daily (?!!!!!) with Aquacel and uh. I love my partner for doing this, but wow that is NOT FUN.
Plus! I’m having these stabbing pains in an area I had to have a drain placed last year with my initial loop ileostomy, which they want imaging of ASAP, but the earliest STAT CT scan is WEDS. eyeroll
Ugh. So yeahhhh. I am going through some shit. I have a good therapist, my partner is amazing, but overworked, and what family I have left is … well. They’re all in Oklahoma and no one really has a clue what I’m going through emotionally & physically.
So I could use some reassurance that this will get better, that it won’t always be this hard, my body will figure it’s shit out and start healing & despite the amazing PAs @ UCSF, I still need to hear it from people who have lived it. Also, any tips for peeing safely (as a female), as well as tips for healing in general? And how do you transport yourself/your loved one to these appointments (geesh, ow!)?

I’m almost in my 30s. Most people around me are saying that pursuing a different path is not much of a practical choice specifically here in our country, plus they say I’m a bit too late for that. But the idea of getting into med school to be a doctor has been embedded into my mind since I finished college almost a decade ago. I know I’d be studying my whole life if I do that, but I reallyy, really want to…
Do you really think I’m a bit late to do that? I’m the family’s breadwinner and we’re really not that rich, so I would have to finance myself and probably will do it alongside my job. Any advice?

I have always been weird and I know that, it’s just that there’s a “good weird” and a “bad weird” and it makes me feel like shit because no matter how hard I try it seems like there’s nothing I can do to fix it. This is both with friends AND potential romantic interests (which usually would start as friends lol). I won’t go into a whole spiel since that’s my issue, but my whole life I have had an issue of just saying everything that I feel- obviously this has made me come across as blunt and very honest, but I’ve gotten a lot of compliments from people that say they like it because they know I won’t BS them.
Unfortunately though, a lot of the time it also seems to put people off. I have autism and ADHD, and rejection sensitive issues have been something I’ve had issues with a lot so I genuinely might be overreacting about something small. I can’t tell, but sometimes I’ll say something as a joke and someone will be like “I think we should stop talking now” or “I’m just not gonna ask.” They usually say it while laughing but I don’t know if they mean I made them uncomfortable or not. Now, before anyone asks it’s not offensive weird or anything like that. I just will go off on weird tangents and infodump about things.
I will also say I know I am a very good communicator in person. People have told me they like that I seem very down to earth, but I’m very good at talking to people as well. Even though I have the trademark autistic issues with socializing, no one has ever said I talk over them or things like that. I just like opening up to people, and I show my full personality even if we aren’t super close. I feel like faking who I am would just be pointless, but it does make me sad because sometimes I really do feel like I’m just so weird it’s hard for people to like me. I have only a few friends, but I started talking to two girls recently because they are mutual friends. But I really feel like I come across as too weird.
I might be overreacting because I asked one to hang out once and she texted me saying she “100% considers me a friend” just days ago, but I keep second guessing myself. I try to tell myself that’s just their humor style (they’re very blunt and have sarcastic/fake mean humor so sometimes I perceive it as them not liking me when that may not be true). Even worse, I was planning on moving to a big city soon (I’m a college of 2k right now and may transfer to one with 60k) and if it becomes clear that I am objectively a bad weird, I really don’t know what I would do.
Am I just overreacting? Or should I stop talking to them/change how I act? I’d like to say since I have a decent amount of friends that means it can’t be ALL bad, but I really don’t know.

Hello guys! Hope your all doing well in your personal lives.
I know I’m doing alright doing the best I can. I wanted to ask on my current situation on what I should do next with this girl I’ve been talking to for 4 months.
I met her 4 months ago on Instagram and we kicked it off from there. I hit her up and we start talking and calling here and there. We then went out on a few dates and it went by great. We talked a lot more and stuff but I realized that from what I like, my love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. Hers are the complete opposite she doesn’t really invite to hold hands, or ask for hugs or anything within that bracket. The connection is definitely there as for as vibes and speaking and doing things but in terms of deep connection I just don’t feel it.
I like her a lot and like her personality and find her attractive. But usually whenever I speak to a girl I really liked in the past I would have been deeply into them within 4 months. But this girl has been different and till now I don’t feel it only because she doesn’t want to display it.
Mind you I’ve been seeing her a lot so it would only make sense she’s as comfortable as me. She seems very comfortable we have deep convos and nothing is off or bad about her it’s just she doesn’t satisfy my need for love whenever we’re together.
I started acting abit off after continuously softly telling her that “hey I just feel like I’m not feeling much from ur end in terms of giving love” and she told me she’s trying and she is super slow with that stuff. I told her like I’m here to grow with her so idm it’s just like we have gotten much much closer that we’re about to label us together and your still not even asking for a hug or a kiss.
Anyway we haven’t really talked in like 5 days now and she hasn’t chased me at alll or bothered to top up and see how I am doing . We have had arguments before and even then I would still text her and try to talks our differences but whenever something like this happens she’s super non-chalant and laid back and doesn’t really put the effort.
Should I text her first again trying to speak to her face to face or should I just let it go?

I have always been weird and I know that, it’s just that there’s a “good weird” and a “bad weird” and it makes me feel like shit because no matter how hard I try it seems like there’s nothing I can do to fix it. This is both with friends AND potential romantic interests (which usually would start as friends lol). I won’t go into a whole spiel since that’s my issue, but my whole life I have had an issue of just saying everything that I feel- obviously this has made me come across as blunt and very honest, but I’ve gotten a lot of compliments from people that say they like it because they know I won’t BS them.
Unfortunately though, a lot of the time it also seems to put people off. I have autism and ADHD, and rejection sensitive issues have been something I’ve had issues with a lot so I genuinely might be overreacting about something small. I can’t tell, but sometimes I’ll say something as a joke and someone will be like “I think we should stop talking now” or “I’m just not gonna ask.” They usually say it while laughing but I don’t know if they mean I made them uncomfortable or not. Now, before anyone asks it’s not offensive weird or anything like that. I just will go off on weird tangents and infodump about things.
I will also say I know I am a very good communicator in person. People have told me they like that I seem very down to earth, but I’m very good at talking to people as well. Even though I have the trademark autistic issues with socializing, no one has ever said I talk over them or things like that. I just like opening up to people, and I show my full personality even if we aren’t super close. I feel like faking who I am would just be pointless, but it does make me sad because sometimes I really do feel like I’m just so weird it’s hard for people to like me. I have only a few friends, but I started talking to two girls recently because they are mutual friends. But I really feel like I come across as too weird.
I might be overreacting because I asked one to hang out once and she texted me saying she “100% considers me a friend” just days ago, but I keep second guessing myself. I try to tell myself that’s just their humor style (they’re very blunt and have sarcastic/fake mean humor so sometimes I perceive it as them not liking me when that may not be true). Even worse, I was planning on moving to a big city soon (I’m a college of 2k right now and may transfer to one with 60k) and if it becomes clear that I am objectively a bad weird, I really don’t know what I would do.
Am I just overreacting? Or should I stop talking to them/change how I act? I’d like to say since I have a decent amount of friends that means it can’t be ALL bad, but I really don’t know.

I’m still seeing my situationaship, despite moving away. I only see him when I’m in town and he’s always down for it.
Recently I messaged him and asked what he was up to. He said he was with friends. Idk why, but I’ve been sensing that he might be seeing other people or in a relationship. So I replied “girlfriend?”. He just said yes . I asked if he was serious and if so why he didn’t tell me he was seeing someone and he said yes and he’ll talk more.
I’ve asked him before and he said he wasn’t seeing anyone and he would let me know if he got in a relationship. I’m not sure if he said that to make me jealous, was being sarcastic and was telling the truth. We just talked about meeting up a few days ago.
Last time i saw him, he was acting different. It was fun, but he was lying to me about something.
He told me he was going to be working until midnight. I messaged him when I was in town earlier and he asked where I was and to let him know when I was done hanging with friends. I told him when and then he told me to call him. He said he was 30 minutes away for a “work thing”. It wasn’t adding up then because I used to work at the job he’s at now and it’s not located in the city he was said to be in. He then started a random conversation that was off topic and I began to sense maybe he was on something.
He messaged me when he got home which was quick. He was already naked when I got in and when we began fooling around, it looked like he was high out of his mind. I never saw him like that before. He seemed to be on another planet. I asked if he was fine and if he did anything before I got there and he said alcohol and weed. I’m not someone who’s familiar with drugs, but it seemed like it could’ve been something more than that. I dated a guy who did substances before but it was hard drugs and he’d only get extremely horny and affectionate while on those.
This guy was also very affectionate and did stuff he’s never done before to me. It’s like he couldn’t keep his hands off of me and didn’t want to stop. While it was great, this was all unlike him. I sensed maybe he could’ve been on Molly but he said he wasn’t when I asked . He said he drank wine, but the bottle still had a lot in it when he offered it to me. I know the two can make you horny, but it was so extreme with how he was acting, it seemed like it was something else.
He was vaping when I got there and said what he had wasn’t strong.
He couldn’t finish at all, and would go limp every now and then , but he kept trying to fool around non stop for like 4 hours. He’d say how amazing I was and he even just wanted to cuddle. I asked if he drank and smoke at work because he was too intoxicated when I got there and he said he had dinner with friends and worked earlier.
None of this is adding up. While I had a good time, I’m wondering what he was lying about & why ? I always wonder if he’s seeing other women and if that could’ve been the case ?
We talked about seeing each other again. We talked in the morning and he said it was fine . He said he would be off that day and I told him what time I would be free. He just responded ok. Then I sexted him and said I couldn’t wait. He never responded. I was waiting for him to reply and it got closer to the time I said I would be free. He had only sent me a meme on another app we’re friends on.
I messaged him and he said he was in bed, I asked if he wanted to still meet up and he took forever to respond. He said he was too high to drive. I said I would come to him and he just left me on read for about an hour then said I could come. He said he fell asleep.
When I got there it was the same experience, but this time he didn’t want to do much to me. I mostly did all the work and he still couldn’t finish. He was very sluggish and said he smoke too much. I ended up leaving and he just stayed in bed and didn’t say much to me. Then he sends me a photo on Snapchat the next day about him heading to the beach. It was a broad snap that looked like it was sent to other people. I know he’s going with a couple and the last time he hung out with them, there was a girl with them who I had never seen before. She’s shown up in photos for his birthday and other things. I was wondering if this was someone he’s seeing. I asked him if he was seeing anyone else and he said no and said he would let me know if he ever did, but I still feel like he’s hiding something. He wound up deleting the photo he shared that she was in after i asked that.
I know this a bit much for a situationship, but I just hate being lied to. I just want to know what’s really going on.
What is his deal?
TL;DR My situation ship has been acting weird lately and I’m wondering if he’s seeing someone else. A woman who I don’t know has shown up in his photos previously. He said he wasn’t seeing anyone & would tell me if he ever did.
But last time we spoke I jokingly asked if he was with his girlfriend and he said yes. I asked if he was serious and why he never told me He was seeing someone and he said he would talk later. He hasn’t responded since and I’m Just confused.
The last time I saw him he said he had to work and wouldn’t get off until late, then he calls me and says he was 30 minutes away because of work, but his job doesn’t require him to travel. When I went to his place, he was really intoxicated, he was very affectionate and touchy and it seemed like he could’ve been on molly or ecstasy. He said he only smoked weed & drank wine. I asked if he did that at work because he was too messed up when I saw him after he claimed to have come back from work. He said he went to dinner after work with friends. He couldn’t finish at all & would go limp sometimes , but still tried to go at it for a long time. The same thing happened the next day, but we agreed to see each other and when I messaged him about meeting up at the time we agreed on, he left me on read for about an hour. He said he was too high to drive to me and I suggested I’d go to him. He left me on read some more and then said I could go. He was once again sluggish and couldn’t finish and wasn’t affectionate at all. I ended up leaving and the next day he sends me this broad snap, I’m sure he sent to other people of him going on vacation with a couple I’ve seen him with before. The last time he was with them, this mysterious girl was with them In photos. Is he hiding something?

(Note: this is the second half of the story. Will link the first half shortly)
The two teens both looked toward the front of the room. There was a gray sphere. Hovering in the doorway.
But if you asked Marc, it was an annoying gray sphere. And it hovered in the doorway like an absolute rustnut.
Marc wasn’t sure where on the sphere to level his disdain. The whole dumb surface was the same all over. It was a series of interconnected, translucent hexagons. Stupid yellow lights blinked sporadically across its many faces—for no apparent rhyme or reason—perhaps just to further annoy Marc.
An electronic voice called out from the sphere. “Did I hear muuuuuusic?” he asked. “Before that last plasma burst?”
Marc shot Sid a glare that could kill. But the big blue alien didn’t back down.
“Last impression. Remember?” he told Marc before going toward Tōn-E with a brimming, sharp-toothed smile and arms extended. “Tōn-E! Glad you could make it! Come on in.”
On the inside, Marc cringed. He mostly tried to forget that Tōn-E walked (hovered?) the same Levels as them. Tōn-E represented the most self-destructive habits of the Outpost. The only features of the city indifferent to survival.
But Tōn-E was all too real. He entered the room like a ghost in a nightmare.
“I am also happy to be here,” he said. The faces of his sphere randomly lit up as he spoke. “I otherwise had no plans for tonight. Because the planet is set to explode.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Sid joked.
“I approximate it will only take a few more—hold on. What is this??”
Tōn-E spun slowly in the air. The side previously facing Sid rotated toward the ceiling. When it reached the top, a spotlight shot toward the ceiling—right where Sid’s door had slotted in.
The spotlight stretched horizontally across the door until it resembled a straight line. This line swept back and forth across the raised door. It moved as if he was cleaning it.
“I don’t believe it!” Tōn-E said. “What an exquisite painting. A remarkable addition to your growing and ever-expanding portfolio, Sid.”
Tōn-E finished his scan of the painting. His expanding spotlight shut off. And he re-centered himself to face Sid.
“Aww, shanks,” Sid said. Each of his right arms latched onto the bends of the left ones. “You really think so?”
“Of course! There are colors here I’ve only seen named in the logs. You have tastefully incorporated /#FF00FF: a color our ancestors previously referred to as ‘magenta.’”
“Yes! That’s right! I was going for ‘magenta!’ You really think I did it?”
Marc looked down to hide his face. He rolled his eyes. Magenta. He would have loved to tell Sid how much he liked it too. But Marc had spent his years surviving, not studying colors in old, useless historical archives.
Sid and Tōn-E continued their snooty, pretentious discussion.
“I made it mixing legblee blood and just a liiiiiiittle bit of groundwater,” Sid said.
“That was a very clever! Allow me to save your painting to my internal memory.”
“Really??” Sid’s cheeks greened a little.
“Yes, I will review at a later time when I am both unable to view the original but would still like to once again be inspired by your clever and skillful hands.”
“Tōn-E, I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
Marc simmered in his anger. Stupid Tōn-E. Always ruining things. Making them about him and his dumb, endless archives.
“I am perhaps only more impressed by your chosen ensemble! Do my eyes perceive veritable Lenorkian armor?”
The talkative orb whooshed toward Sid. It began revolving around him like an annoyingly-attached moon. As his exo-orb hummed excitedly, Tōn-E rattled off his useless knowledge of antiquated armor.
“Snorp-resistant spiked shoulder caps?!” He spun around Sid’s midsection. “Triple-layered chest plates?!” He dropped closer to the floor. “Anti-gravity shin guards made from the rare lenorkium alloy?!”
Tōn-E giggled as he orbited Sid. His laugh disturbed Marc. It sounded like a space rat being strangled in the bowels of an undersea air vent.
Sid could hardly keep up with Tōn-E’s flying. But he looked happy with the attention. “Yeah! I’m told this suit was built for the Frost Ring wars,” he said. “It never got used.”
Marc continued to not engage. He slunk deeper into his shawl, folded his arms, and sighed.
“I don’t believe it!” Tōn-E said.
He backed off from Sid, flying back toward the doorway. He turned on his spotlight once again. It now stretched over Sid’s body. “Saving! Saving!”
Sid wasted no time posing for the occasion. He flexed all four arms and gritted his snaggling teeth. His irises turned a deep red and his two small horns protruded from his forehead. Tōn-E was overjoyed. “I did not think I would ever have the chance to record your agitated state,” he said.
I’ll show you an agitated state, Marc thought to himself.
“I’ve got a relic you’re going to love,” Tōn-E said. His tiny sphere filled the cave with noise. But it wasn’t Tōn-E’s usual metallic voice. The sound came from another species entirely.
“GwwwwwwuuuhhhAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!”
His orb played an intense, ear-shuddering roar. The recording may have been slightly fuzzy, but Marc knew the source. It was unmistakably Lenorkian.
And like the gears in a drill, something appeared to “click” inside Sid. His eyes widened. His armored chest expanded. And he joined in. But Sid’s roar was… authentic.
“HRRRRRRRRRGAAAAAAAAHHHHH” he blasted out of mouth. Marc’s entire rib cage vibrated uncomfortably.
It spooked Marc. Igniting some primal desire to escape a dangerous predator. That was a feeling he never felt around Sid. He didn’t like it.
Sid himself even looked embarrassed for a second. Something he’d kept suppressed had slipped out. But Tōn-E turned up the volume on his recording. And with a cautious smile of someone nervously breaking a rule, Sid matched it. And then some. The two bellowed together. It was enough to make Marc queasy, although it was unclear whether it was due to the vibrations or Sid bonding so much with Tōn-E.
The roaring continued. Their talking continued. Tōn-E went on about Sid’s armor some more and his people’s valor and the hardship his ancestors must have faced.
“Usually I keep this stuff stashed away,” Sid said to Tōn-E in his soft normal voice. His horns had retracted, and his eyes had returned to normal. “These are shameful pieces of our history. Truly. And with a people I never really fit in with. But tonight, it just felt right to wear it, you know?”
“I understand completely,” Tōn-E said. “It is in these end times that we gravitate toward those traditions that were so much of what made us feel alive in the first place.”
The statement made Marc want to hurl. He didn’t want to entertain such stupid notions. But the gremlin rotated to him next.
“Hello Marc! Did you find any good junk today? Any new additions to your scrap pile?”
Marc seethed. “I didn't scavenge today, Tōn-E. There wouldn't be any use. It's the end of the universe.”
“That surprises me. Humans love their junk and doodads.”
“Yeah well, we don’t have to cling to the past, do we? Not like that ever saved anyone.” He hugged his wrapped arms even tighter, tilting his body away from Sid and Tōn-E. His cold shoulder ended the conversation.
Sid picked it back up. “So Tōn-E, do you, uh… drink?”
As it turned out, he did. Tōn-E accepted a cup of fludge. He held it with a robotic arm—one that had suddenly extended from his exo-orb. Tōn-E’s orb whirred as the center of his “face” sprouted a grotesque, needle-like proboscis. It poked outward like a long nose.
This straw extended into the cup he held. Tōn-E sipped the fludge like an insect sipping nectar (whatever those two things were; the Archives were spotty).
Sid waited with anticipation. Then Tōn-E’s sphere shuddered. The fludge must have reached the insufferable little creature on the inside. “Scrumptious!” he said.
Marc sighed quietly to himself. For some reason, he thought the night would have made a turn for the better if Tōn-E had hated it.
“Two for two!” Sid pumped three victorious fists into the air. He grinned as Tōn-E’s straw dipped into the cup once more. The straw made a little slurping sound.
“My taste buds are tingling!” Tōn-E said.
But the big cup was too much for him to finish. He returned the mostly-full drink to Sid. And his robotic straw receded to his exo-orb. Sid of course finished the cup, slurping up the remaining pool of fludge.
“So…” Sid said. He wiped his mouth. “Should I put some tunes back on?” He pointed over his shoulder to the idle vent. Then he looked across his two guests for an answer.
Marc shrugged. He didn’t care about anything anymore. Next to Marc, Tōn-E bobbed excitedly.
“Oh, yes!” he said. “One reads about concepts such as scales and measures, but it is entirely different to actually experience them with one’s own body!”
What body? Marc thought to himself. And what were the other things Tōn-E had mentioned? Something about… measuring… dragons?
He studied the cave floor while Sid skipped to the vent.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Sid said. “Get those Level 7 legs ready!” He tugged at the creaking cover once more.
It came off easier this time. With a pop! the storm above returned to the cave. Its natural melody filled the room.
“Woooooooo!” Sid raised his hands again and walked back toward the other two.
Tōn-E mimicked him with two twig arms.
But the music didn’t have the same magic as before. The beats were stale. And Marc found himself unable to ignore the sting of the sand pelting his face. He lifted his shawl over his mouth. His voice was barely audible.
“I’m sitting this song out,” he said.
The other two didn't seem to hear him. They were facing each other, waving their arms sporadically against the air current.
Marc didn’t care. He grabbed his unfinished drink from the kitchen. Then he searched for a place to sit.
He found a couch, just in front of the dancing aliens. As he took his seat, his bottom started to sink into the sofa. The tarp covering the couch crinkled.
He tried guessing the material underneath it. Clay, maybe? He pondered the question while watching Sid and Tōn-E figure out dancing without him.
“This is how Marc was doing it before!” Sid said to Tōn-E. His four arms fanned across the breeze.
But he got everything wrong. His arms whipped around the wind, not with it. And he was thinking too much about his next move, as evidenced by his scrunched brows. But the greatest offense of all was his midsection: his hips and legs stayed in place—as if someone had threatened them.
A part of Marc wanted to get up and show him how it was done. But another part wanted to see Sid fail. Realize the effort was futile. Give up on bonding with Tōn-E. And kick the Sphere of Useless Facts out of his house.
“Am I doing it right, Marc?” Sid asked while each of his arms flew in a different direction.
“You look great!” Marc replied. He took a long sip of fludge.
Tōn-E, on the other hand, did his best to replicate Sid. He waved his skinny arms erratically. It almost made Marc laugh; Tōn-E looked like he’d been set on fire.
But in all, the whole thing was awful. A bad impression giving birth to an even worse impression.
And they didn’t seem to be enjoying it much either. Despite Marc’s glowing endorsement, Sid and Tōn-E danced themselves to the brink.
Sid kept losing his balance. He tried to keep up with the music but flung himself too hard in any one direction. And every time he made a misstep, he’d let loose an acidic snarl. Tōn-E grew frustrated as well. Every few seconds, he simply froze. His exterior lights would blink red in error. As Marc had hoped, the two “painting pals” quickly ran out of steam.
The dancing halted altogether. A tired Sid returned to the vent and hoisted the grate back onto the vent’s mouth. The music stopped.
“I’ll just turn it down for a minute,” he said. He adjusted a dial on the grate. The metal slits creaked open. And a muted sandstorm flowed through them.
The music reflected the overall energy in the room: depleted. Sid secured himself two more cups of fludge before joining Marc on the tarp couch.
Tōn-E followed his lead. The little troll took a seat too, which meant hovering over the last open spot on the other side of Marc.
The boys took a minute to relax on the couch. They sat quietly while the plasma storm above the Outpost boomed and cracked.
Well, Sid and Tōn-E relaxed. They chugged down another couple cups of fludge and floated quietly over the couch (respectively). Meanwhile, Marc continued to be annoyed. He considered stepping outside and climbing to Level 1. Offer himself to the plasma storm a few hours early. The non-stop hum of Tōn-E’s exo-orb goaded him further.
Brrrrrrrrr!
Did it really have to make that noise?
Marc didn’t think the afternoon could get any worse. And then it did. Because Tōn-E’s insufferable humming suddenly quieted. And that only could have meant…
“Oh!” Tōn-E exclaimed, “I know what we can talk about!”
Marc braced for impact. His nails dug into his knees.
Don’t you dare, he thought.
“I read the most interesting fact about cats today!” Tōn-E started.
Not again, Marc thought. Absolutely NOT again. His fists trembled with rage.
“Did you know cats were the central deity across ten different ancient civilizations? The trend started with humans, of course, but the religion quickly spread across the galaxy as interplanetary travel became more widely available.”
“I actually didn’t know that,” Sid said, entertaining Tōn-E’s ridiculous theory. “Where did you find that?”
“The Archives! They have somewhat documented this phenomenon. You see, it was a common practice to capture footage of cats, even in their sleeping state. They were so important to these cultures that even the most mundane moment yielded significant reason to capture and worship them. If you want to see, I can—”
Marc had had enough. He slammed his cup down on the floor and flew off the couch.
“—SHUT UP. SHUT UP ABOUT CATS!” he shouted. He swung back around to face the other two. “CATS AREN’T REAL TŌN-E! AND THEY WERE NEVER REAL!”
“That’s enough, Marc!” Sid clenched his teeth.“Don’t start this.”
Marc returned fire, “I didn’t start anything; that was YOU. Going behind my back! Inviting more of these… fairy tales!”
His emotions overwhelmed him. He didn’t know whether to yell more or start crying. He did both.
“It’s the end of the universe!” he said as tears streamed down his face. “We can’t keep clinging to the things that brought us to this point in the first place! All these stupid traditions are the reason no one’s even here with us now! IT KILLED THEM ALL! And anyone stupid enough to keep believing in them is—"
“—I said THAT’S ENOUGH!” Sid growled. Marc didn't care.
“NO!” he said. Then he looked back at Tōn-E. “NONE of what you’re seeing in the Archives is real! The data is corrupt! It’s ALL CORRUPT! And CATS are just another dumb fairy tale to keep people like you going, while…”
He ran out of steam. He realized there was no more “going.” In fact, there was no time remaining in the universe for anything. But that didn’t diminish his animosity and anger toward the world. He glared down at the gray sphere. His chest heaved.
Meanwhile, Sid kept a cooler, bluer head. He too looked to Tōn-E, but with compassion in his eyes.
Tōn-E didn’t immediately respond to either. The only sound in the room came from his exo-orb. Well, the exo-orb plus the ladle on the counter, which suddenly blooped into the big pot.
All eyes were on the atypically quiet alien, whose hexagonal faces began to light up.
“I suppose,” his voice trailed, “that cats may not have been real after all. You said it yourself: records are foggy. They’re all from thousands of years ago...” He sighed. Tōn-E’s lights transitioned to a new blinking pattern. “And I also suppose… that I should have been more mature about interpreting error-prone information in the Archives…”
“It's okay, man,” Sid said. “I like that you dream big.” He reached across the couch to place a comforting hand on Tōn-E. But Tōn-E floated out of reach.
“I understand my presence here is probably upsetting,” he said. “You two have a special bond. I should not have interfered with it in its last moments. I will go.”
“No, Tōn-E,” Sid said. Each pair of his hands met in front of his chest “Please stay. You have every right to be here too.”
“I should go,” Tōn-E said. “I will spend the rest of the evening focused on real things. And because I will no longer be here, I suppose it will be the perfect opportunity to review Sid’s art so I can feel inspired for the end times.”
He slipped between Sid and Marc toward the doorway.
“No, don’t!” Sid called after him. “We should do this together.”
But Tōn-E had already vanished outside.
The Lenorkian, hand extended, waited for Tōn-E to come back. But the floating sphere did not reappear in the doorway.
And that was when a low trill emanated from the couch. It was coming from Sid’s his chest. He looked up at Marc, glaring. He bared his pointed teeth. His horns reappeared. And his eyes flushed with scarlet pigment.
Yuh-oh, Marc thought. About half his prior anger evaporated. Fear of a fight took hold.
Marc didn’t exactly dislike his chances. Lenorkians may have been stronger, but Sid wasn't a fighter. Marc was.
But Sid stuck to his morals.
“GET OUT!” Sid shouted.
Marc reflexively jumped out of reach. The short hop sort of ruined his show of anger. But he was still boiling mad. After all, fifty percent of him hadn't abandoned the cat grudge.
“Fine!” he shouted back. “Have fun exploding alone.” He whipped away to the exit.
The party was finished now. He almost stopped and went back for his fludge. But he didn’t want it anymore either. He just wanted a nice end of the universe with his friend. And now the end of the universe was ruined.
At least the apocalypse outside was behaving predictably. Marc stepped into the adjacent cave corridor. He surveyed the damage outside, looking through the long, horizontal gap in the cave wall. As the experts had predicted, the plasma storm took its toll.
The canyon glowed eerily bright, despite it being evening time. The wind howled as it raced through the canyon. And the cliffs around the gorge flashed white and pink as the storm charged with electricity, preparing to make its final jump.
Lightning cracked toward the ground. Some of the bolts hit the opposing cliff, sending rubble deep into the gorge. A gentle tremor rumbled in the ground beneath him.
The plasma storm overhead only creeped further around the planet. As the canyon brightened, shockwaves coursed through the entire city. They threw Marc off his feet again. He hit the ground.
Behind him, thunderous clacking erupted. The sound of falling rocks filled the corridor. He flipped over to see what explosion had thrown him.
It was bad. He stopped breathing. Because he could no longer see Sid’s home. All he saw was a pile of rubble.

Hi I was hoping that someone might be able to help me out with the following. I received a 60mm high carbon rim that has been used with rim brakes, it has 20 spoke holes
I wanted to re use it in my current bike as a rear wheel (with disc brakes and SRAM XDR body).
Is it possible to use a hub with a higher spoke count together with this rim? Or what would be the risk if I do this?
How would I best go about this?, in creating the most optimal solution? It seems difficult to find rear xdr hubs with 20 spoke holes.
Could I for instance use a 32 hole hub and skip 6 holes every side?
I'd appreciate any thoughts about this or any experience in such a situation.

Hello everyone, I am looking for some guidance, explanation, just any kind of help. Oh where do I begin, I have grown up in a strict Russian orthodox community but never felt the presence of God as a child (I am 19 now). 2 years ago, I started to lose my faith and found myself in crystals, meditation, looking for guidance from ancestors/spirit guides, and believing in the universe. To this day, I still believe in some of those things, especially because I found out I could do a type of “reading” which explores a persons soul from a Birds Eye view. But within the last year, I completely left the religion and joined an “American” or other wise known as a standard christian church. I made the final choice to leave when my current boyfriend insisted that I tried going to one of the services. After this service, I felt myself create my own journey with God. I really felt his touch, so I now know he is with me. Since we got my religious past out of the way, I’d like to explain the scene. The so called “demon” or entity feels like it has attracted itself to my room. Many bad things have happened in that room. I had experienced situations with an abusive ex, trouble with substance, and suicidal ideation (along with many unprotected meditations) in that room. I have always felt a major mood shift every time I enter. The atmosphere was never really troubling until just recently. Just a few weeks ago, I re arranged my room. So my bed is facing in front of my TV and off to the side (but not in front) is a mirror. I can not see myself in this mirror when I lay down in my bed. Ever size I rearranged my room, the dark atmosphere has gotten so much thicker (I even find it leaking through my whole house). To start off, I started seeing things out of the corners of my eye in the reflection of my TV and my mirror. I also have been having THE WORST motivation ever. It feels like my whole day is time lapsed because of the time I spend in my bed. Some days I can’t get up at all. This has lead me to be very very behind in my studies. This lack of motivation has clung itself to me and I can not study in certain spots anymore. I feel like I always have to be finding new places. My hair has started falling out due to all the stress that I feel. This un motivation can turn into anger and suck frustration, I feel like the only way to take it out is being physically violent, verbally aggressive, consume myself in the substances I used to take part in, or I consume myself in suicidal thoughts. But as soon as I leave my room/house I am completely fine. I would like to sage my room or have a peeing come to my house but my parents could be really weirded out. I am sorry if this story is a little confusing, if there are any questions please feel free to ask and I will further explain. Thank you in advanced.

I went on a late night drive yesterday and it was so much fun. The empty roads and clear skies make one of the best combination ever. Do you go on night drives or walk often? What makes you happy? What about night shower or baths?
Also I recently watched run on Netflix and it was a good one imo before that I watched The last black man in San Francisco. What kind of stuff do you watch or listen to??
I love watching it rain from the window of my room, especially when we have thunderstorms and lightning, it just makes it better.
Also I love horror and crime movies. Although I watch all genres but those are my favourite. Not a big reader but I try sometimes. If weather permits I go play tennis in the summer. So yea I’m just looking to chat with some interesting people and talk about interesting things or dumb things or whatever lol . You’re free to talk about anything . Everyone’s welcome

I have always been weird and I know that, it’s just that there’s a “good weird” and a “bad weird” and it makes me feel like shit because no matter how hard I try it seems like there’s nothing I can do to fix it. This is both with friends AND potential romantic interests (which usually would start as friends lol). I won’t go into a whole spiel since that’s my issue, but my whole life I have had an issue of just saying everything that I feel- obviously this has made me come across as blunt and very honest, but I’ve gotten a lot of compliments from people that say they like it because they know I won’t BS them.
Unfortunately though, a lot of the time it also seems to put people off. I have autism and ADHD, and rejection sensitive issues have been something I’ve had issues with a lot so I genuinely might be overreacting about something small. I can’t tell, but sometimes I’ll say something as a joke and someone will be like “I think we should stop talking now” or “I’m just not gonna ask.” They usually say it while laughing but I don’t know if they mean I made them uncomfortable or not. Now, before anyone asks it’s not offensive weird or anything like that. I just will go off on weird tangents and infodump about things.
I will also say I know I am a very good communicator in person. People have told me they like that I seem very down to earth, but I’m very good at talking to people as well. Even though I have the trademark autistic issues with socializing, no one has ever said I talk over them or things like that. I just like opening up to people, and I show my full personality even if we aren’t super close. I feel like faking who I am would just be pointless, but it does make me sad because sometimes I really do feel like I’m just so weird it’s hard for people to like me. I have only a few friends, but I started talking to two girls recently because they are mutual friends. But I really feel like I come across as too weird.
I might be overreacting because I asked one to hang out once and she texted me saying she “100% considers me a friend” just days ago, but I keep second guessing myself. I try to tell myself that’s just their humor style (they’re very blunt and have sarcastic/fake mean humor so sometimes I perceive it as them not liking me when that may not be true). Even worse, I was planning on moving to a big city soon (I’m a college of 2k right now and may transfer to one with 60k) and if it becomes clear that I am objectively a bad weird, I really don’t know what I would do.
Am I just overreacting? Or should I stop talking to them/change how I act? I’d like to say since I have a decent amount of friends that means it can’t be ALL bad, but I really don’t know.