Link for all the chapters available for free here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
Deep in the groaning halls of sinew and bone he awaited his audience with the god. At a wave of his hand the ribs which held up the ceiling contracted, tendons shifting within the pink walls of the chamber as the jagged, calcareous spurs that composed the doorway sank back into the spongy masses of tissue, revealing a passage curving down and out of sight.
Menash stood before the yawning portal and considered eternity. This was no an idle thought: here in the Dawning Chamber, the concept was very real. His father, Yulan, had stood in this exact spot times beyond count. When he was struck down in his prime by the Night Weaver and her Leaper offspring, torn limb from limb as he fought to defend Chthonis from a raiding party, Menash’s uncle, Aqavarr, had carried his broken remains over that grinning threshold to join the hosts of the dead, never to return.
A hot and heavy exhalation rattled up out of the depths, wafting in the acrid scent of the bonding pools and the wet slithering sound of the rebirthing canals. Menash felt a crackle of static in the corners of his mind before the signal sharpened and he heard It whisper distinctly:
“Enter…”
The familiar dread crept its way up the small of his back, and he gave a little shiver. No matter how many times he had communed with the Vitalus, he’d never been able to shake the feeling of his utter insignificance. But he persevered, walking bravely down the slurping passage, past the rows of broad antechambers lining either side of the hallway. Each one held a slumbering shape immersed in a cryogenic bath, towering hulks of muscle encased in ribbed and riveted plates of chitin. No two were alike in size or physiology, but all seemed to emanate the same primeval aura of dread that tickled Menash’s fight-or-flight-instinct, skewing it very much towards the latter response. These were the Hollowores, soulless avatars of the Vitalus, each one a tool capable of eradicating an entire species. As Menash approached, one of the living weapons stirred to life. A pronged, anvil-shaped head emerged from the bath, umbilical feeder tubes detaching from its armored flanks as the rest of its bulk followed, its mauve exoskeleton as sleek and shiny as amethyst. The Hollowore extended legs as thick as grown pine trees and lifted itself above him, its pairs of crushing pincers dripping amniotic fluids as it herded him towards the central room.
Bundles of white gossamer filaments spread all across the floor, encircling steaming pools of pus and acid. He saw arms and legs, sensory organs and entire exoskeletons being knitted before his very eyes, the amino acid chains being stitched on a layer at a time, the weeping pus evidence of microphages fighting off possible infections as the Vitalus did Its work.
These were the next generation of exomorphs, yet to be assigned to their hosts. It was here that Vitalus constantly improved the only thing that could ensure the continued survival of Menash’s subspecies. Exomorphs were bonded to Gallivants at birth, the organisms supplying their hosts with the means to breathe an atmosphere they was never meant to endure, and the strength to fight in a world that was red in tooth and claw. They were as swift as the summer wind and could multiply their host’s muscular power by up to twelve times their natural output.
But for all their God-given might, Gallivants were still mortal. They could and often did perish in the endless struggle for existence that the Vitalus called the Great Game. But even in death they could still commit their essence to posterity, passing down their defining traits through the malleable genetic code of the gilt helix. It was the Vitalus’ greatest boon; through the gilt helix a single individual could become a progenitor of an entire generation, becoming at one stroke the father of whole nations and peoples.
One day he too would prove worthy of the honor that Yulan had earned with his life. But he was not alone in that ambition. Menash was annoyed to find the crimson-clad Vezda and the cowardly Racek waiting for him inside, standing next to a large ball of filaments that hung from a tonsil-like growth hanging from the walls.
This node pulsed, emitting a small storm of bioelectric activity, networks of fungi conveying commands in the form of oscillating voltages to their communities of symbiotic bacteria, the latter containing greigite mineral crystals aligned in the shape of electromagnetic coils. Other networks hidden in the walls modulated and amplified the signals, and the three Gallivants steeled themselves for the onrushing flood of information as the Vitalus tapped into their minds.
He was a candle before the raging heart of the thunderstorm. For an instant Menash touched a fraction of Its intelligence, the divisions of time and space rolling back as they joined the ocean of shared consciousness, becoming one with the living systems of Arachnea. From the tiniest aeroplankton floating above the waves of the golden coastlines, to the herds of ultrapods munching their way through swathes of trees in the savannahs. Menash felt himself pushing up out of the soil, longing and lusting and reaching for the sunlight with a trillion green fingers uncurling, alive with the furious movement of life.
But what was that flicker of orange to the east? That searing heat, that prickling pain spreading like a cancer down his side?
The Vitalus scooped them up and hurled them headlong into hell itself. A roaring wildfire was sweeping into the heart of the eastern rainforests. Menash tasted ash and ruin, felt pieces of himself wither and burn, his branches tongues of fire, wood cracking from the intense blaze, sap boiling instantaneously upon contact and rupturing, splitting him right down the grain. He fled in terror, running, slithering, digging, swimming, flying away in crazed panic from the walls of red death closing in on him. As his skin flaked off in clumps of charcoal he looked back and saw it towering over the treetops, the epicenter of this howling vortex of destruction: the grey behemoth. Its burnished metal hide gleamed like copper, reflecting the fury of the conflagration burning well into the night.
Menash pulled his mind away before it was lost forever in the storm of electric potentials. He saw Racek and Vezda swaying on their feet, breathing hard and fast.
“Heart of the World,” he managed to gasp, “What is your bidding?”
The Hollowore maneuvered itself until it was facing him directly. Tiny beady eyes fixed him in their blank gaze. The node emitted a blue pulse and the creature shuddered as it received the signal. It opened a maw powerful enough to chew boulders into gravel and rumbled:
“This one is the alpha which survived first contact with anomalous variable. It will tell Us what occurred, and from whence this threat emerged.”
“It came from the karst mountain range, where the yellowjacket Amit live,” Menash replied, “It was destroying the largest mound in that area, massacring its inhabitants. It brought the mountain down on them—we’ve never seen anything like it. Zildiz was the first on the scene. She warned us not to approach, and that it was dangerous, but some of us,” here he cast an angry look at Vezda, “Some of us went ahead and tried to scavenge from the bodies of the dying. Then the behemoth ignited the air and burned scores of us to cinders.”
“Irrational. Why did you do this?”
“W-we thought that you had spawned the grey behemoth,” Menash stammered, embarrassed to say the least, “That it was the newest addition to the Great Game, another species of ultrafauna that would help perfect Arachnea.”
“Not so. It was made by an evil far older than the All-In-One,” replied the Vitalus, “It is called a Divine Engine. In cycles past, this evil sought to undo this world and all that inhabit it. In that, it almost succeeded.”
Menash felt his blood run cold at those words.
“Is it the only one of its kind?” Racek piped up. Menash and Vezda both bristled at his interruption; subordinates were only supposed to speak when spoken to.
“There were several deployed here in Our infancy. We had thought them all destroyed in the War of Creation.”
“Your Munificence,” Racek went on, heedless of the venomous looks he was getting from the other two, “Most of us survived because Zildiz persuaded us to dive into the river. She saved all our lives! But as I washed up on the riverbank, I saw the behemoth casting a seedpod into the skies. I did not see where it landed, but it was travelling in a high arc due east. Is this the behemoth’s method of reproducing? If so, then how many offspring can it generate from this one seed?”
The Vitalus met his questions with a minute of silence. Menash had never known It to take so long to respond to a query, and felt another stab of unease in his gut. Unless he was imagining things, the Vitalus seemed genuinely disturbed by the scenario that Racek has raised, enough to convince Menash that the danger was far from hypothetical.
“That is a distant possibility,” It said somewhat cryptically, “Regardless, We cannot allow the Engine’s continued existence.”
“Then it must be destroyed,” Vezda said, her barbed tail eagerly perking up.
“We are not certain that it can be,” the Vitalus said, and Menash heard Racek audibly gulp at the admission.
“But Your Omniscience, you alone are the arbiter of growth and decay,” Vezda said in disbelief, “Surely you can unmake this monster as well?”
“Perhaps. The Divine Engines were built to withstand the extremes of temperature, gravity, atmospheric pressure, acidity and irradiation found on semi-inhabitable exoplanets. Worlds of bareness and desolation, glassed by thermonuclear bombardment or infested with alien microorganisms. In the wars of Our youth, the Betrayers used tungsten-alloy warheads fired from space platforms to crack their bulkheads. Not even Our vessels, the Hollowores, could damage them in any significant way. We will need time to gather the raw materials and fabricate the weapons needed to end this threat.”
“What must we do?” Menash asked.
“If this variable is not dealt with, it could upset the delicate balance We have sacrificed so much to achieve. Already the wildfire it has caused will release close to 400 million metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and destroy 2.3 million acres of forest before Our countermeasures can stop it. Time is our limiting factor. If the Engine cannot be destroyed now, it must be restrained.”
“It hasn’t moved an inch since we last saw it,” Vezda said brightly, “Maybe it has already died?”
“Yes, and maybe your mother was a horka toad,” Racek said snidely. Vezda scowled and took a step towards him, then stopped as she remembered that she trod on hallowed ground.
“Not so. It has merely gone dormant. Having expended its fuel, it is now running on the bare minimum of its reserves. My children, you must ensure that it does not wake again. Establish a quarantine zone around the Engine and let none approach, on pain of death. The Leaper kindreds will secure the ground while the Gallivants patrol the skies.”
Vezda and Menash exchanged troubled looks. Nobody wanted Leapers establishing a foothold in what was essentially a buffer zone between their subspecies. Once allowed to settle in a habitat, it would not take long for them to adapt and become masters of their new territory. Ousting them would become a battle of attrition, and given the lower birthrates of Gallivants, it was not one they could long afford.
“Respectfully, we do not require assistance from our brother kindred,” Menash ventured, “We are more than capable of safeguarding the area ourselves.”
The node throbbed again, the bioelectric flashes taking on an angry purple hue. With a sound like the grinding of a millstone the Hollowore clashed its claws together impatiently. All three of the mortals took a hasty step back.
“The alpha will obey, or another will be found that can,” the Vitalus growled at them, “All subspecies will observe a general truce during this period. This is a temporary addition to the Great Game. Those that serve Us well shall be rewarded. We shall also enlist the aid of your terrestrial cousins, as well as the Cataphract clans to replenish the soil, and lone Saints who shall rove beyond the quarantine zone.”
Menash’s unease deepened. The Vitalus was bringing together four different kindreds, some of which killed each other on sight, in a move that reeked of desperation. The kindreds had worked together before, of course, on complex projects such as altering rainfall patterns and husbanding struggling species, but never so many at once. This was bound to end in bloodshed.
“Those that break the truce shall be chemically neutered, and their gilt helix purged from the existing gene pool,” the Vitalus continued, “You will maintain this quarantine until We have dealt with the Engine.”
“It is understood!” Menash and Vezda said at once.
“But what about Zildiz?” Racek blurted out, again risking his entire lineage by speaking out of turn, “She might still be alive out there!”
“He’s right,” Menash found himself agreeing despite his dislike for Racek, “She’s our alpha, after all. It would be a shame to lose her helix. Do we have your leave to send out a party to recover her?”
The Vitalus pondered the request for a moment, then crushed his hopes when it said:
“Regrettable, the loss of the female. Valuable stock for the breeding program. But it has not responded to Our signals—it is unlikely to have survived. The female Vezda shall take up its duties as alpha.”
“But Your Benevolence—” both men cried out in unison.
“It is decided. She has risked the Great Game, and must abide by its outcome. To speak more on this would risk Our displeasure,” the god warned.
“We can’t spare the manpower anyway,” Vezda pointed out, trying not to look too pleased at Its decision. She darted a quick look at Menash, long enough for him to see the selfish desire festering in her heart. He turned away from her in disgust, baring his blades by the slightest of margins to let her know what he thought of her, then asked the Vitalus:
“But what of the Engine’s seedpod? Should we search for it?”
“Negative!” the Vitalus boomed, its node reinforcing the word with a spike of activity that sent needles of pain spearing into their heads, “We shall complete this task. It is dangerous and can be entrusted to no other.”
The Hollowore angled its massive head towards the cavernous ceiling, armored flaps on its back sliding aside as it unfurled sets of rigid sixty-meter wings. A wide sphincter on the roof gaped open and Menash saw the evening sky awash with the stars in their milky multitudes. The Hollowore took a deep breath through the spiracles lining its thorax and abdomen, pumping air through a pair of hollow tube-like protuberances under either of its wings. Menash and the others quickly scampered to a safe distance. Seconds later there was a scream of chemical combustion and the Hollowore rose into the evening skies, leaving behind a long trail of superheated gases, the backwash almost knocking Menash off his feet. They watched as the Hollowore gained altitude, making straight for the columns of billowing smoke on the horizon, a sweeping shadow blotting out the light of the heavens.
The Vitalus’ mental presence receded with it. When it did not return, they took it to mean that they were dismissed and likewise took flight and headed for Chthonis. They were hardly out of the Dawning Chamber when Vezda seized the scrawny Racek by his wings and anchored her feet right up against his back.
“Funny little man, are you? Crack jokes at my expense again, and I’ll see to it that you’ll never fly again!” she snarled, yanking hard. Racek yelled as his wings threatened to pop out of their sockets.
“Stop!” Menash said, ramming his shoulder into her and knocking the smaller male out of her grip. Vezda rounded on him, blades out and her tail aquiver with rage.
“As for you! No one should speak to the Vitalus like that!” she shrieked, “Much less gainsay It! Are you trying to get us all killed? It is the source and continuance of life itself—”
“But the Vitalus doesn’t always consider the individual scale of things,” Menash reasoned, controlling his rising anger as he tried to defuse the situation, “Its scope of thought is beyond ours. Therefore it is up to us to look after each other. None of us can win the Great Game alone. We need people like Zildiz for the species to prosper.”
“Your logic is flawed,” Vezda spat, “Empathy is a sham devised by the selfish action of the gene, which seeks only to preserve itself. At least I am honest enough to look after my own interests. Your obsession with that whore is misplaced. Heed my words, Menash. What happened today marks a change in the Great Game. Only the ruthless will reap the rewards of this era. Think on that, and act accordingly.”
The female darted off in another direction, leaving the two behind.
“Thanks,” Racek said, rubbing at his sore shoulders, “My, my. She’s really taking her promotion very seriously, isn’t she?”
“This doesn’t make us friends,” Menash said shortly, “We share a common interest, that’s all.”
The two flew together in silence for a time, the dark canopy unrolling below their feet. Racek had always been a bitter rival for Zildiz’s affections. In the mating seasons he and Menash had flown the damsel-dance against each other countless times, racing and dogfighting at top speed through the dense bamboo thickets in an effort to impress her.
But each time she had always chosen Menash. Naturally. He was the stronger, the braver, the son of the Scourge who had slain hundreds on his lightning raids into Leaper territory. Their pairings had been brief and passionate, yet she had always laughed at the end and gone on her merry way, a rose petal borne on a scented breeze, the dalliance as meaningless to her as other concerns like eating or breathing.
But not to him. Right now, all that mattered was her. And Racek was the only one in the whole wide world who knew exactly how he felt. Did that mean he could be trusted? Menash considered the enormity of what he was about to do, and wavered. Then he saw her face in the darkness of his home, the face she wore when they were all alone together, and he took a deep breath before breaking the silence, saying:
“I’ll be in charge of the quarantine. I can arrange for you to disappear for a few days. I can have one of the younglings mimic your magnetosynaptic signal, make it seem like you’re with the rest of us.”
“You’d do that? For me?” Racek said in astonishment.
“Hah. Not for you,” Menash laughed softly. He looked Racek straight in the eyes and continued: “What’ll it be, then?”
If he so much as hesitates, I’ll have to kill him here and now, Menash told himself.
“Why, yes. Yes, of course!” the little brown male said vigorously.
“Good,” Menash sighed with relief, “She’ll be very grateful to whoever brings her home. I’d do it myself, but as an alpha I can’t risk being seen as disobedient.”
“Then why give me this chance? After all that’s passed between us?”
“I should have thought that was obvious,” Menash replied. Racek digested that for a bit, then out of nowhere said:
“If I find her—when I find her—I’ll tell her exactly who it was that sent me.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Bah! Just so we’re even, that’s all,” Racek grinned, his mouthparts slanting askew.
“Thanks, I guess. I’d…I’d appreciate that. You do understand what we’re risking here, right?”
“Sure. We’ll be total genetic write-offs if we’re caught. But it’s not like I wanted to see tiny ugly Raceks running around the house anyway. What about you, though? Why are you putting your neck on the chopping block?”
“You know why,” Menash said quietly, his thoughts still lingering on her face.
“Yes,” Racek agreed with a wistful air, “Yes, I suppose I do.”
And the pair spoke no more until they reached Chthonis.
Link for all the chapters available for free here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

(29/M/Gay) here, found out my partner of 4 amazing years (36/M/Gay) had been sexting guys on Grindr for about 7 weeks (EA with randoms no PA) during a really rough patch in our relationship. It's just over a month since Dday and I wanted to share this breakthrough.
I have noticed that the mornings for some reason are incredibly hard for me. My partner and I have a successful company together with demanding schedules and after waking up at 4:30AM, having a great workout, I get home around 6AMish.... That's when it hits.
It's like my mind just self destructs. I want to go through his things, I want to shout at him, I want to find something new that will cut the wound deeper, I get traumatizing flashbacks of the sexual messages, the videos he took of himself, the d*ck pics and I can't believe this is the new relationship we have to start. For some reason at this time in the morning during my daily routine, the pain is unbearable and naturally, affects my whole day by making me late.
But today? I pulled into my driveway and told myself:
You are stronger than this. You know everything there is to know. Get your day started, just like he is starting his. Open that car door and feed the cat and dog. Then take off your clothes and get in the shower. If you can just do that your day will be better. Please just do this one thing for me.
And I did it. I got to my desk the earliest I have ever since DDay and I feel... hopeful. This was a really big step for me and I hope I can do it again tomorrow.
I hope when we start CC at the end of the month things will get better. He has been so good since this all came out, i can't fault anything he has done. We both want R, we both love each other. We were just in such a dark place with our relationship and this has jolted us into new territory that I am trying to navigate each day. I had no idea my WP was so crushingly insecure and anxious. Of course the pain is horrible but looking back on how I felt about 3 weeks ago I am proud of the progress I have made and hope this will inspire someone out there that an upwards trajectory can happen.

Part 14.3

Heracles VS Lernaean Hydra

Author Note: I was thinking about it and I really wish that GT9 used more draconic symbolism throughout the story when (or if) I revisit Team Crowley VS Rosencreutz I'll have symbolism of Aleister (TheBeast666), Aiwass (Codename: DRAGON) and Coronzon (The Dragon of the Abyss) all have symbology of them being Dragons preying on a God/Hero like CRC and the reversed conflict of Chaos VS Order you see in mythology, I also wanted to achieve something similar with Kakine Teitoku as he can represent the Fallen Angel and the Seraphim but for now I'll try adding draconian symbolism into Gunha VS CRC.
True Expert Christian Rosencreutz, with his golden rosy cross sword, clashed relentlessly against the indomitable force of the Strongest Gemstone, Sogiita Gunha. With each clash of their powers, the air crackled and compressed, and the pavement trembled beneath.
CRC, observed Sogiita with a mixture of intrigue and disdain. "You fight like the legendary Heracles," he remarked, his voice carrying over the din of battle. "But know this, I am the Lernaean Hydra, and no matter how many heads you sever, I shall always rise again!" Rosencreutz roared to slice the #7’s midsection.
Sogiita, his entire body wreathed in unknowable energy, met CRC's blade unyielding. "Bring it on, old man!" he retorted, his voice brimming with confidence. "I'll knock you down as many times as it takes! I won't stop till you come to your senses and remember your roots, like the roses you love so much, Rosencreutz!!"
Their clash intensified, that old man’s higher dimensional sword colliding with the raw power of that boy’s fists and kicks as they pushed each other to their limits with each sword swing, punch, kick and flash.
Sogiita unleashed a barrage of punches, each strike carrying the force of a meteor, while that silver young man countered: he wielded his sword in his right hand and released impacts followed by white light that was enough to previously take down all of The Bridge Builders Cabal.
As the battle raged on, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and shift around them, bearing witness to the titanic struggle between two unparalleled forces.
The founder of Rosicrucianism who intimidated reality itself to obey his will and that Gemstone with an unstable personal reality that could change on a whim.
The atmosphere crackled with electrifying distortion.
Sogiita's fists tore through the air with the ferocity of meteors, their velocity enhanced by his ability to adapt and accelerate, surpassing even CRC's speed. As each blow was released, the friction with the surrounding air molecules ignited a scorching heat, intensifying the impact.
The rapid movement of molecules generated an escalating thermal energy, causing the air to seethe with increasing temperature. It was akin to a tempest of incandescent projectiles hurtling towards CRC, their speed surpassing the limits of human perception.
It was like a storm of brilliant fiery arrows was fired at Rosencreutz.
These blazing arrows of force were reminiscent of the elusive strikes employed by the Rose & Cross Leader, ignoring distance with deceptive agility.
With each thunderous punch, that bandana boy sought to overpower his adversary through sheer kinetic force, his unwavering resolve palpable in every motion.
But that wasn't enough for this superhuman.
CRC, wielding his cross sword with precision and skill, deflected each and every one Sogiita's flaming arrows with calculated strikes of his own. Each impact unleashed a burst of blinding white light, sending shockwaves rippling through the chaotic city.
"You think brute strength alone will defeat me?" the silver man taunted, his voice cutting through the chaos of battle. "You may be strong, but strength without strategy is nothing but raw power wasted."
Sogiita grinned, his confidence unshaken. "Strategies for cowards who can't handle a real fight," he retorted, his voice ringing with defiance. "I'll K.O. you with my fists and guts alone!!!!"
Rosencreutz's eyes narrowed as he parried another of Sogiita's punches. "Your arrogance will be your downfall," he warned, his tone tinged with certainty. "I may not match your overall speed, but I have something you lack: intellect and precision.”
Christian Rosencreutz then plunged his cross sword into the ground.
"This is what harmed Kamijou Touma," he declared, grinning and unleashing a torrent of lethal invisible attacks from his outstretched palms.
However, the #7 countered with a relentless barrage of flaming arrows from the thermal aftershock of his punches.
Each strike akin to a particle accelerator in its intensity and speed. That Gemstone was the particles being fired on the right and that True Expert was the particles fired on the left.
As the attacks clashed, the battlefield became a spectacle of raw power and precision.
“Roar!” CRC held his open palm to his mouth and blew gently on the tip of the middle finger.
That was all it took for a blaze easily outdoing a flamethrower to rush out. And this was not just any fire. It fed on the power of a ley line and stole vitality from space itself. This overwhelming mass of light and heat was wielded for no other purpose than to take lives. Anyone who tried to survive it using simple composite armor or special fibers would dry up and burn away in less than a second.
But that wouldn't kill another superhuman would it?
Of course not.
“Aaaaarghhhh!!!!” screamed the #7.
Some assaults bypassed the fray entirely, slipping through the chaos like elusive particles in a collider.
A smokescreen.
Those brilliant fireworks from hell weren't meant to take Sogiita’s life. They were meant to disrupt the Gemstone's senses and sight so he couldn't counter all of that old man’s deadly attacks.
Invisible strikes found their mark on that Gemstone, and the searing arrows of the arrows scorched Rosencreutz.
CRC was wounded but he rejected to make any whimpers. Instead with a sudden burst of velocity, the young silver man picked up his cross sword from the ground and launched a flurry of strikes, cutting at the #7’s body with pinpoint accuracy.
His arms, his head, his face, his stomach, his legs, his midsection, his back.
Each blow landed with devastating force, causing Sogiita to stagger back under the onslaught.
If that bandana boy hadn't had his defenses and general stats raised by the #5 he’d be cut to pieces.
The #7 fell on his back.
"There's a fire," Sogiita declared, his voice ringing out amidst the chaos of battle.
With each attempt to break his spirit, Sogiita's resolve only grew stronger, fueling the flames of his determination. "Every time someone tries to make me give up, it's like wind feeding my flames, making them burn even brighter just like my punches," he explained, his words carrying the weight of his unwavering determination.
He refused to stay down.
With a roar of defiance, Sogiita surged forward once more, his movements blurring with speed as he disappeared from view. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Christian Rosencreutz, catching the magician off guard.
"Hey, old man," Sogiita taunted, his voice filled with confidence as he seized Rosencreutz from behind.
Christian Rosencreutz's eyes widened in surprise as he realized he had been outmaneuvered.
As Sogiita Gunha faced off against Christian Rosencreutz in their airborne duel, he felt the flames of determination burning within him, driving him forward with unstoppable force.
Before he could react, the boy lifted him effortlessly and slammed him onto the pavement below with a resounding thud.
"I'm not just a kick-boxer!!" Sogiita sang.
As the impact reverberated through the air, the young silver man let out a pained cry. The force of the collision compressed the surrounding air, heating it up until it crackled with energy. Christian Rosencreutz's head struck the ground with a velocity equivalent to mach 20, igniting his body in flames upon impact.
This move is called a suplex.
Struggling to regain his bearings, Rosencreutz muttered in a daze, "The House of the Holy Spirit...the seven walls..."
"You said it yourself, didn't you?" the gutsy boy retorted, cocky. "My power and my guts can break through your impenetrable walls. And I can spread those same guts to the world around me."
With a grimace, Christian Rosencreutz acknowledged the truth of the boy's words. "Your uncontrolled AIM field grants you the ability to imbue non-organic objects with the properties of your virus," he observed, his voice tinged with begrudging admiration. "Allowing them to bypass even the defenses of the seven-walled tomb.”
"A virus? Don't be so gutless, CRC," the #7 retorted, his voice filled with defiance. "This battleground ruled by wills is a two-way road between you and me."
Christian Rosencreutz raised an eyebrow at the boy's words. "Hey Gemstone, you could've killed me if I weren't a superhuman with an idealized body that accomplished The Great Work and crossed the Ungrund, what then short-stack?" he questioned while fitting an insult against his height.
Even without the seven-walled tomb or sheets of diamonds Rosencreutz was cartoonishly durable.
"Sorry, old man," Sogiita replied, his tone tinged with annoyance. "I might've gotten carried away, but I know it'll take more than that to kill you. No matter how many heads you regrow, like Hydra, I will not give up until I've completed all my labors."
"Mhm, so you do know your mythology," CRC remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The Lernaean Hydra, or simply Hydra, is a serpentine lake monster in Greek and Roman mythology. Its lair was the lake of Lerna in the Argolid, known as an entrance to the Underworld. In the canonical myth, the monster is slain by Heracles as part of his Twelve Labors."
"Yeah, I know," Sogiita replied confidently. "I studied the tales of great gutsy heroes in school.”
"So, short-stack," Christian Rosencreutz began, his voice carrying a hint of scholarly interest. “Have you ever considered the parallels between our battle and ancient Near Eastern religions?”
Sogiita listened intently. "Are you saying you see yourself as a god of war or a hunter?" he inquired.
CRC chuckled softly. "In a sense, indeed. We are both assuming roles in this grand theater, are we not? I, the Hydra, and you, Heracles."
He continued, "Consider the Second Labor of Heracles. Eurystheus, the king of Tiryns, sent Heracles to slay the Hydra, which Hera had raised specifically to defeat him. Heracles approached the swamp near Lake Lerna, where the Hydra dwelled. To protect himself from the poisonous fumes, he covered his mouth and nose with a cloth and shot flaming arrows into the Hydra's lair, causing it to emerge and terrorize the surrounding villages."
CRC paused, drawing a comparison. “In our own clash, the flaming arrows that Heracles hurled at the Hydra find their echo in your lightning-fast fists, generating shockwaves that ignite the air with their speed and force. It's as though each strike of yours is akin to shooting a flaming arrow, much like Heracles did.”
“Huh? Are you suggesting we're caught in a time loop? That some enigmatic group, like the Bridge Builders Cabal, manipulated events to resurrect you, pitting us against each other in a timeless struggle? I've never met them, and I'm certainly no child of Zeus. Are you implying that our battle will be distorted into a Greek legend by a meddling time traveler?!” frantically asked the boy.
“No, no, you simpleton. This world contains synchronicities. In Sumerian, Babylonian, and Assyrian mythology, the war and hunting god Ninurta was celebrated for his deeds. The Angim credited him with slaying eleven monsters during an expedition to the mountains, including a seven-headed serpent, possibly identical to the Mushmahhu, and Bashmu, whose constellation was later associated with the Hydra by the Greeks. In Babylonian contexts, the Hydra's constellation is also linked to Marduk's dragon, the Mushhushshu.”
“Uhhh….” That shounen boy was dumbfounded.
"Hhm, I suppose calling it a time loop isn't technically wrong," Christian Rosencreutz began, his tone measured. "I'll break it down from history class and reconstruct it through the lens of the occult. Historic recurrence, young Gemstone, is the phenomenon of events echoing throughout time. Whether it's the rise and fall of empires or the repetitive cycles within a single society, it's all part of this grand plan that was decided when Adam ate the forbidden fruit."
The #7 with his guard up but curious listened: "So, history just keeps repeating itself? Just a series of coincidences?"
Christian Rosencreutz shook his head sagely. "There is no such thing as coincidences. Take, for instance, the Doctrine of Eternal Recurrence, pondered upon by thinkers like Heinrich Heine and Friedrich Nietzsche. While it's said that 'history repeats itself,' it's not quite that simple. Rather, these recurrences stem from identifiable circumstances and chains of causality."
He continued, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of philosophical debate. "Consider the phenomenon of multiple independent discoveries in science or the reproducible findings in natural and social sciences. These recurrences, whether in the form of rigorous experimentation or comparative research, are vital to our understanding of the world."
Christian Rosencreutz paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "G.W. Trompf, in his seminal work, The Idea of Historical Recurrence in Western Thought, illustrates the recurring patterns of political thought and behavior since ancient times. Through these patterns, history offers us invaluable lessons, often leading to a sense of resonance or déjà vu."
Their words reverberated like a challenge to destiny itself, a testament to their unyielding determination in the face of adversity.
That Gemstone didn't surrender his characteristic fervor. "History echoing through time, huh? It's like the universe itself is stuck on repeat, and we're just caught in the cycle. But you know what? If history's gonna keep looping, then let's break the pattern! Let's smash through those chains of causality and forge our own path. Who cares about déjà vu? We'll create something entirely new, something that'll shake the very foundations of this world and we’ll do it with guts!!!" He defied that silver monster.
But Rosencreutz wasn't finished. He pulled out his Crystal World Map.
The supposedly old man listened intently to that boy's impassioned response, his expression inscrutable behind his clairvoyant card. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke.
“Gemstone, you speak of breaking free from the chains of repetition, of forging a new destiny against the backdrop of eternal return. It is a noble aspiration, indeed. However, consider this: eternal return is not merely a philosophical concept or a whimsical notion of fate. It is the very fabric of existence, woven into the nature of time itself.” He pressed his finger on the Miniature Garden and a 3D holographic projection flew out—
“In ancient times, the Stoics grappled with the idea, seeing in it both a sense of cosmic order and a challenge to individual agency. Augustine and others recoiled from its implications, fearing it as a negation of free will and salvation. And yet, Nietzsche, in his brilliance, dared to confront the concept anew, exploring its depths in the crucible of human consciousness.”
Didn't Aleister Crowley say that he had to shatter every single phase in order to eliminate the concept of fate?
“I will shatter every last phase and put an end to all mysticism. It can be helped and we need not restrain our tears and bite our lip when faced with tragedy. I will bring back the pure world in which everyone can feel anger like normal and question it all like normal!!”
And didn't Coronzon appear to break down all the phases including the Pure World?
Partial destruction would be meaningless. If anything remains and an eternal distortion is born from that, then it will all happen again. I will eliminate the ten spheres, the twenty-two pathways, and the hidden eleventh symbol. Collisions between phases? Sparks and spray? You cannot save anyone if you only treat those symptoms. All of the fundamental clogs must be removed. All so we can pass the baton to whoever comes next.”
“Sparks and Sprays…” Rosencreutz muttered.
“Eh?” The #7 didn't quite hear him.
"Beside time stands fate, cruelty's steadfast herald. In the silent chambers of the soul, whispers the most profound wisdom. Humanity, in its folly, neglected to exalt life's splendor, its radiance, its grandeur. Truly, it is a rare gift to comprehend the forces that shape our existence.” That magician spoke in despair.
“From the moment man ate the fruit of knowledge, he guaranteed your species’ failure... Entrusting his future to the whims of fate, man clutches to a flickering hope. Yet, within the Miniature Garden lies the key to all revelation. Beyond the well-trodden path lies the ultimate terminus. It matters not who you are; Death is the sole certainty awaiting all.” he finished with scorn.
Shokuhou Misaki was currently linked to Sogiita Gunha so was overhearing the entire conversation.
“Are you okay, Leader?” asked Kamijou back at the hospital.
“Yeah…” she responded.
“Really?” Mikoto breathed a white sigh. “It wasn’t the shock of seeing their school destroyed. Nor was it the fear of having those rioters attack. …They’re afraid of their own power. And after learning how exactly to use that power to survive, they’re not sure they can just switch it off and return to their normal lives. So their gears have ground to a halt.” Tokiwadai Middle School was a prestigious esper development school.
The young ladies registered there were Level 3 at the lowest and Level 5 at the highest.
Almost all of the students had a power that surpassed that of a blade or handgun if used properly, but something had become twisted.
Yes.
“A lot of them weren’t really sure why they were training their powers.”
Shokuhou breathed a white breath, wrapped her own arms around herself, and rubbed her thighs together.
Why are you studying?
How many people could give a proper answer to that question? Because my parents told me to, because my teachers taught me to, because that’s how the world works. Those would be most people’s answers. Even the students with a clear vision of their future would only have something vague like “for the entrance exams” or “for my future”.
Only a small handful would have specific puzzle pieces in mind, such as “I need to learn how to use this equation so I can build a rocket”.
The young ladies of Tokiwadai Middle School were the same.
What if the very gears that humans have…their actions, reactions, inactions were all the result of some transcendental entity hovering above.
Like God or The Devil watching over humanity’s reality sphere and ordering around his system like everyone was a pre-programmed NPC that had specific events occur to them to get them to develop in the way that they did and determined their genetic bloodline that composed their psyche?
Is there truly a free will?
It was said that in order for you to break out of the system of society that the working class was stuck in you had to climb to the top where the corrupt elites resided.
Imagine Breaker negated sparks, Aleister Crowley could see through the veil thanks to Holy Guardian Angel Aiwass, Great Demon Coronzon could always see the cogs.
Christian Rosencreutz could view the entire world through his Miniature Garden.
The rest of humanity was at the mercy of their own destinies.
A Guardian Angel wouldn't arrive to save a parent’s child from fate every single time.
"Okay, nice poetry, can we get back to fighting already?" asked the #7 impatiently.
"Seems I got carried away," the old man conceded with a nod. "The synchronicities of this world, akin to the astral configurations in astrology, serve as an example of synchronicity, according to Jung. It describes circumstances that appear meaningfully related yet lack a causal connection, much like the parallel relationship between celestial and terrestrial phenomena. Synchronicity experiences entail subjective encounters where coincidences between events in one's mind and the external world may lack a clear causal link but still harbor an unknown connection.”
"Ah," Sogiita chimed in, recalling his philosophy class discussions. "We talked about synchronicity back then. Jung thought it was a good thing for the mind, but said it could get dicey in psychosis. He cooked up this theory as a kind of mental link between those meaningful coincidences, calling it a noncausal principle. This term came about in the late 1920s, and then he teamed up with physicist Wolfgang Pauli to dive deeper. Their work, The Interpretation of Nature and the Psyche, dropped in 1952. They were big on this idea that these connections, even the ones that don't seem to have a cause, could still teach us a lot about how our minds and the world work."
“Mhm, you know more than you lead on, Gemstone.” pondered CRC.
“Oh this? My teachers say I'm not good at remembering speeches hahaha…” The #7 looked slightly nervous. “You know, analytical psychologists really push for folks to get what these experiences mean to boost their awareness instead of just feeding into superstitions. But funny thing is, when clients spill about their synchronicity experiences, they often feel like no one's really hearing them out, or getting where they're coming from. And hey, having a bunch of these meaningful coincidences flying around can sometimes ring the schizo bell. Delusions aren't healthy.”
Where was this conversation going?
"Delusion! Hah! That's a good one coming from you," CRC fired back.
"The real delusion is thinking humanity isn't worth a damn," Sogiita shot back, pulling out some info from Johansen and Osman. "Some scientists think coincidences are just random flukes, but counselors and psychoanalysts reckon there's more to it, like some deep-down stuff needing to come out.”
"Delusion! Hah! That's a good one coming from you," CRC fired back.
"The real delusion is thinking humanity isn't worth a darn," Sogiita shot back, pulling out some info from Johansen and Osman. "Some scientists think coincidences are just random flukes, but counselors and psychoanalysts reckon there's more to it, like some deep-down stuff needing to come out. Unconscious material to be expressed."
Rosencreutz interjected, his expression reflecting a mix of confusion and concern. "Aleister Crowley's actions have left a lasting scar on this world and this city," he began, his voice weighted with solemnity. “The vacuum-like dichotomy between magic and science created by the use of that colossal psychotronic weapon, has damaged this world's memory irreparably.”
Psychotronic weapon?
The Archetype Controller?
He paused, his gaze piercing as he continued, "Jung's exploration of synchronicity as evidence of the paranormal paved the way for further inquiry, notably by Koestler and the subsequent embrace of these ideas by the New Age movement.”
Sogiita shrugged, "Some folks say synchronicity is impossible to test or prove, so it gets labeled as pseudoscience. Jung even acknowledged that these synchronicity events are basically just coincidences, statistically speaking. But hey, who's to say what's really going on without some solid scientific studies, right?"
"Dubious as his experiments may have been," CRC interrupted, "Jung believed in a connection between synchronicity and the paranormal, drawing parallels to the uncertainty principle and works by parapsychologist Joseph B. Rhine.” CRC posed a thought-provoking question, "How are we to recognize acausal combinations of events, since it is obviously impossible to examine all chance happenings for their causality? The answer lies in the fact that acausal events are most readily expected where a causal connection appears inconceivable upon closer reflection. It's impossible, with our current resources, to explain ESP or meaningful coincidences as mere phenomena of energy. This challenges the very notion of cause and effect, as these events occur simultaneously rather than in a linear cause-and-effect manner. Hence, I have coined the term 'synchronicity' to describe this phenomenon, placing it on equal footing with causality as a principle of explanation."
Getting closer to that Gemstone, CRC emphasized, "Esper abilities cannot be fully understood with science alone. They defy traditional cause-and-effect explanations, instead representing a convergence of factors that create a quantum phenomenon affecting both the micro and macro. Why were there the naturally gifted and the naturally ungifted?”
Why did some students get praised for their abilities while others needed to work harder?
Others among them would have worked every hour of their free time and not progressed anywhere in this city’s leveling curriculum.
Why did this city present such an unfair and unpredictable status quo of potential?
Why did hard work barely matter in a city of empirical evidence to record any possible progress?
Sogiita Gunha wasn't a normal Level 5 but he wasn't always this powerful. He went through the curriculum same as everyone but if the outside conditions for his Gemstone ability to manifest didn't form in the exact way that it did, in such an acausal form then would he even be here to challenge Christian Rosencreutz right now?
Everything just happened to fall right into place.
All those puzzle pieces that would lead to this moment here and now.
Was it all just talent? God picking a fool as his champion?
The #7 leaned back, absorbing CRC's words with a thoughtful expression. "So, what you're saying is, there's this whole other layer to reality that we can't quite wrap our heads around," he summarized, nodding slowly. "I mean, it's like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands—slippery and elusive."
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Historic recurrence, synchronicities, all these things—they're like pieces of a puzzle scattered across this substantial reality. And sometimes, they just... click into place, right? It's like the universe has its own plan, and we're just along for the ride."
That bandana wearing boy's gaze drifted, lost in thought. "You know, CRC, it's funny," he remarked, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Here we are, with all our powers and potential, but at the end of the day, we're still grappling with the same questions as everyone else. Talent, destiny, divine intervention—maybe they're all just different sides of the same coin."
He shrugged, the weight of the philosophical musings settling over the broken city. "Who knows? Maybe God does have a sense of humor, after all.” that boy chuckled.
There was a deep silence between them.
Rosencreutz’ response was swift and resolute, his tone filled with certainty. "All this ‘universe has a plan’ banter is just a distraction from the inevitable," he declared, his eyes narrowing. "We can debate the nature of us being all-powerful yet struggling with mortal issues until the sun burns out, but it won't change the fact that our fate was sealed upon the knowledge Adam learned."
“To think so many trivialities have developed while this old man wasn’t watching. Heh heh. Then I should assume the thread of fate has again begun to weave its strange connections between myself and some unknown human.”
He rose forward, his movements purposeful. "It's time to put an end to this dance of platitudes," CRC continued, his voice cold and unwavering. "We'll settle this the only way that somewhat matters—through objective action in this grand play."
“Silence, preserved doll. Illusionists are meant to remain silent. That is all we magicians are: wielders of substanceless illusions. Opening your mouth serves only to break the illusion.”
With a flicker of resolve in his eyes, he locked gazes with the #7. "I am Hydra, Gemstone," he said, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "Our battle ends now.” CRC opened both his palms and began shooting at their surroundings, the buildings, the pavement, the apartments, the rubble.
It probably wasn't random as it seemed to create a pattern.
“Huh are you getting senile old man?” asked the young Gemstone.
“What fun. I never imagined someone would bother diligently polishing their skills this far while knowing it is all essentially an illusion. Didn’t you ever feel silly going to the effort?”
Rosencreutz dropped to all fours, his rosy cross sword gripped tightly in his right hand.
He moved—
“Arrgh!” Sogiita yelled amidst the relentless and precise and precise strikes from that golden cross. “Old man?” he asked.
That magician didn't say anything.
That silver man’s movements became more beastly.
Faster.
Stronger.
Fiercer.
Something new was beginning to manifest.
With each strike of his higher dimensional blade that old man’s blows seemed infused with an otherworldly energy.
The wounds inflicted by his weapon burned with a venomous intensity, sending searing pain coursing through Sogiita's body.
That boy grimaced as the poison from that silver man’s strikes surged through his being, each wound feeling like it was ablaze with venomous fire.
"Damn... That burns…like a killer hornet’s sting," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice strained with effort. Gritting, he fought to maintain his focus, despite the agony threatening to overwhelm him.
Was this another application of The Four Stages? Citrinitas? No, there was nothing yellow here, it was more like a dirty purple.
But it wasn't just the physical damage that posed a threat.
As the Rosy Cross leader leaped on all fours his movements took on an almost erratic quality, he was bouncing from one building to another with an animalistic agility.
With each jump, a shockwave rippled through the air, carrying with it a palpable sense of dread.
Something was spreading.
The air around them seemed to thicken with a toxic miasma. The #7 struggled to breathe, the noxious fumes clouding his senses.
Like a chaotic monster’s venomous poison breath.
The once-clear air now felt thick and suffocating.
Gasping for breath, the bandana boy struggled to maintain his focus amidst the swirling chaos.
His vision blurred, his movements sluggish as he fought against the oppressive atmosphere.
Blinded that heroic boy could only fire a flame arrow without his sight.
His fists striking out with all the strength he could muster. Igniting in that poisonous compressed air.
It seemed to be flammable like a dragon’s breath.
???
At the hospital, Shokuhou's voice carried a mix of surprise and relief. “He caused real damage.” she exclaimed.
Kamijou turned his attention to her, intrigued. “What happened?”
“It's hard to see clearly, but it looks like the #7 managed to rip off CRC's left arm,” she explained. “Though, I'd say it was more of a lucky shot. I can read he acted on pure instinct.”
Kamijou nodded, a hint of melancholy in his tone. “Yeah... the psychic link and all.”
Had the #7 Level 5 given up on the old man?
Back on the battlefield, Sogiita cursed under his breath. “Dammit... Sorry, old man,” he muttered. “I was aiming to hit your whole body to maximize the surface area, maybe break a few bones as a casualty. We can probably get your arm reattached at the hospital. Heaven Canceller has enough guts to even fix me.”
It was clear—he hadn't given up.
It was an accidental strike of his arm.
“As each ghastly head was severed from its serpentine form, dreadfully, two more writhed forth from the abyss.” a cryptic voice amidst the chaos spoke.
Wasn't it said that the Hydra’s lair was the lake of Lerna in the Argolid.
Lerna was reputed to be an entrance to the Underworld.
The abyss.
The Ungrund.
There is no limit to the depth of the Alcyonian Lake, and I know of nobody who by any contrivance has been able to reach the bottom of it since not even Nero, who had ropes made several stades long and fastened them together, tying lead to them, and omitting nothing that might help his experiment, was able to discover any limit to its depth. This, too, I heard. The water of the lake is, to all appearance, calm and quiet but, although it is such to look at, every swimmer who ventures to cross it is dragged down, sucked into the depths, and swept away.
The keeper of the gate to the Underworld that lay in the waters of Lerna was the Hydra.
The serpentine Lake Monster.
“Rosencreutz……?” The #7 muttered.
That magician chuckled ominously. "Indeed, young Heracles," he intoned, his voice echoing with a bizarre resonance. “The Lernaean Hydra's curse is upon you now.” as he said that he ripped off a bit of his arm that was cuterarised and it began bleeding.
Anna Sprengel’s blood was said to create unknown miracles when spilled.
Christian Rosencreutz’ blood was so virulent that even its scent was deadly.
As Sogiita Gunha glanced at his severed arm lying on the ground, a creeping sense of horror enveloped him. "All fate is a curse and that curse," he murmured, his words barely audible over the din of battle, "extends even to my severed limb.”
Christian Rosencreutz’ left arm grew back.
No.
Two new arms grew in its place.
The arm was fully functioning with no defects.
Although one of the arms appeared somewhat scaly and lanky like a serpent.
It had human anatomy but something was abnormal here.
He almost looked like a spider as he emerged from the poisonous fog as he remained on all fours.
“So short-stack. Are you ready to complete your final labor: Crossing the abyss!!!” He challenged that boy with his cross sword facing him.
"Boss, what's up? You look kinda stuck," Kamijou asked, his tone concerned.
Two students were sitting together in the waiting room at a hospital.
"—abyss, Hydra, curse, synchronicities, Historic recurrence." she replied, her words carrying a weight of unease.
"Huh? What? Can you give me the lowdown?" Kamijou prodded, his urgency evident.
"Can't quite wrap my head around it. But what I can tell you is that after CRC started talking about these esoteric concepts, he leveled up his power ability, managed to seriously hurt the #7 despite me cranking up all his stats for the win condition," the honey-blonde girl explained, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Can you beam all that stuff into my head, like a memory download? You're a psychological esper, right? My right hand won't mess with it, and we've done the telepathy thing before," Kamijou suggested.
"Memory download's not quite it, but I can send you a recording," she clarified.
"Got it," Kamijou muttered as he absorbed the info.
"You got any ideas to help the #7’s situation ability, Kamijou-san? We're kinda desperate here," she asked.
"I wish Index was still here, dammit.” he lamented, “But you know about magic, right?" he queried.
"Yeah, people converting their delusions into reality right?," she admitted.
"Well, magic's not just about delusions; it can be tied up to the whole world. Not sure if it's relevant, but based on Idol Theory, Rosencreutz might be pulling in 'energy’ from the Greek 'phase’ of Heracles for an edge," Kamijou theorized.
"Like a chessboard flip?" Shokuhou Misaki inquired, her brow furrowed with concern.
"No, more like... imagine you're playing checkers with a buddy, and you're totally crushing it because you're a checkers pro. Then suddenly, your buddy switches it up and challenges you to an arm wrestling match, and you lose because, well, arm wrestling isn't your forte," Kamijou Touma explained, trying to paint a vivid picture.
"So, by taking on the role of the Hydra from Greek myth, he's essentially forcing the #7 into the role of Heracles? But didn't Heracles defeat the Hydra?" Shokuhou sought clarification.
"Yeah, but..." Kamijou recalled the tale from the movies he'd seen. "Lichas gave Heracles a shirt soaked in the Hydra's poisonous blood from his arrows, which ends up killing him by tearing his flesh down to the bone," he elaborated.
"It was actually Nessus seeking vengeance and tricking Deianira into giving it to Heracles as a gift, delivered by Lichas without disclosing the tunic's lethal bloodstained secret from the Lernaean Hydra, but you're right," Shokuhou corrected gently. "So, Rosencreutz is harnessing the power of that legend to slowly poison the #7?"
"Not literal. I mean the poison is real but his slashes do significant harm now so it's more like shifting the paradigm in his favor…shifting his position.” The spiky-haired boy wasn't in the mood to explain Phases, “Earlier, he mentioned Sogiita spreading his 'virus' throughout the world. A virus isn't a poison in the traditional sense, but the Rosicrucians originally sought to create a universal cure for all illnesses. Now, CRC is spreading a literal poison, positioning himself as the ultimate predator and his opponents as prey rather than his savior role, the paradigm has been shifted." Kamijou concluded, his voice tinged with gravity.
“So he’s changed the environment to get the win condition? The #7’s durability doesn't matter in the face of the world being forced to go about a certain way because of Rosencreutz stage play?” The girl asked.
“Yeah…if things keep going this way…Sogiita will….goddamnit….” The spiky haired boy swore. “I can't let someone else die after all that's happened but I feel like if I go out there I really will kill him…” he muttered that last bit while clenching his right fist that began shaking uncontrollably.
The girl’s eyes seemed confused. “What did you say?” The honey blonde middle schooler asked.
“Nothing, just mumbling to myself.” he spat out.
That boy and girl could never come to the right conclusion on their own without the aid of former Magic God Othinus by their side.
“Did you think I had challenged you with no hope of succeeding, you cesspool? The magic born on earth is bound by the directions based on the earth’s magnetic field and by the density and composition of the air which is determined by air pressure which is in turn influenced by gravity. That is inevitable when you are focused on the cardinal directions of north, south, east, and west or on the basic elements of fire, water, wind, and earth. But what you will find upon leaving the atmosphere is an unknown. Coronzon, are you sure there will be no malfunction in the magic giving you control of Avatar Lola? And before, my power was bound by the puny speck named earth which failed to become a black hole or even a sun, but once we enter outer space, just how far do you think that power will be released? I do not mind at all that I will lose the support of Academy City.”
Well the boy was half right.
“Let us test it out, you cuspidor. On one side, we have you using the planet and bound to an avatar. On the other, we have me exposed and freed from the planet. Now, who will be the star of this show?”
Christian Rosencreutz did not shoot at his surroundings for no reason.
The battlefield transformed into Rosencreutz's canvas, resembling the legendary battleground of Lerna where Heracles once clashed with the Hydra.
Yes.
He didn't unleash his powers randomly; every action was deliberate.
In the magical side of Idol Theory, mimicking an object, event, or person allowed one to tap into a fraction of its power.
And that even applied to locations that essentially worked as stage plays.
Idol Theory was so absolute that even the basic cross held a portion of the son of God’s power.
As Above, So Below.
As Below, So Above.
Macro to micro.
Micro to macro.
And the macrocosm and the microcosm are always linked.

I'm a 41yo mom, and I have struggled with executive functioning for years. It felt like I got pregnancy/mommy brain (with my first pregnancy 11 years ago) and then it just never went away. My daughter was diagnosed with ADHD a few months ago, and many of the questions her psych asked about her seemed like they also applied to me. I know that I was much more functional prior to having children - but I also avoided or quit anything that was particularly hard, and dug hard into extreme organization. Now, I feel like my brain is fractured, constantly jumping between all the things I have to handle for my kids and my family, and I struggle to mentally settle down.
I was officially diagnosed with ADHD myself about a month and a half ago, but I haven't found a med that seems to make a difference. I started on Concerta, but it gave me a spectacular migraine on the second day and a constant low-grade headache (manageable but never went away) on the second day, so I stopped taking it (and the migraine was bad enough that I don't even know if it helped with focus). My doctor switched me to Adderall XR, but I didn't feel anything at all until we hit 30mg, and even with that it's side-effects (jaw clenching, minor heart racing) but no noticeable focus improvement. We tried Vyvanse, but the second day I felt like a zombie and then had a total energy crash in the early afternoon (again, with no focus improvement) and the third day it made me angry and depressed and then also the energy crash, so I stopped that and went back to the Adderall since I still have it.
I guess I'm wondering if it's normal for people not to have any positive reaction to the primary meds, and if I should keep cycling through options? The fact that all I'm getting is side effects makes me question my entire diagnosis. Maybe it's not ADHD, and I just can't handle my life and need to find better tools? How many meds should I try before I give up on this?

Hi all,
Last night, I was playing a game and noticed that my ring and pinky finger have a "pins and needles feeling". Well, I went to bed and woke up, and that numbness/pins and needles feeling is still there.
This has never happened to me before, and I am not sure if it's something I should be concerned about. I have had Bells Palsy before, which has made me a hypochondriac about symptoms like this.
Is this just a pinched ulnar nerve? If so, when should it be going away? Or is this a greater cause for concern.
To add: I did B.E.F.A.S.T., and I don't have any cause for concern following those steps, but read that symptoms may appear for up to a week before a stroke occurs.
Stats because it got deleted prior:
Age -31
Sex - M
Height - 6'
Weight - 230lbs
Race - Caucasian
Duration of complaint - 10ish hours
Location (Geographic and on body) - USA - right hand (pinky, ring finger, outside of hand)
Any existing relevant medical issues (if any) - Previously had bells palsy
Current medications (if any) - adderall 15mg xr

I'm not certain of everything I'm going to say but I'm going to say how I think the logic of Dark Souls works. At the start, time is static and the world grey and bland and filled with still dragons made of stone. These dragons aren't living or dead. They're basically still objects.
Magic fire called the First Flame shows up underground. The fire floods the world with souls. The basic plain white souls you use as currency I will call plain souls. The still dragons get animated by these plain souls. The empty husks underground get animated too.
In Dark Souls the word 'Hollow' is an umbrella term usually meaning a body lacking a soul. Hollow meaning empty inside. I think in Dark Souls a person is not their soul but their mind, and that their soul is just a powersource. The mind is truly them. Souls aren't directly responsible for consciousness. All moving and living beings need souls to power them. Ghosts in game aren't fully people, when someone dies in Dark Souls you sometimes get hold of their soul. People leave imprints upon their soul when they die. These Souls maintain traits of their previous owner. Such as using a boss soul to make a weapon associated with them. It has its own structure. You can also crush this complex soul into the basic building blocks of souls which are plain souls. Ghosts are just souls of people who died which poorly mimic the actions and traits of their previous owners. You never really see any Ghosts doing anything new that they wouldn't have done in the past. It's just a functioning impression of someone engraved into a soul.
Light beings naturally die fully when killed which is any being stemming from the Death, Life and Light Souls. Some Silver Knights respawn only because they are illusions. Some creatures that aren't related to the Dark Soul such as rats and dogs which were likely made using the Life Soul respawn as they have eaten humans and have a Dark Soul of their own fueling them. As long as a creature has a big enough amount of souls or just a big enough soul, it is able to sustain the energy for the movement of its vessel.
The FF has 4 major souls which are represented as glowing balls of fire. The biggest soul being the Light Soul which Gwyn has. The Light Soul is associated with the flow of time and space and also lightning. 3 souls are white, light and bright while 1 is Dark.
There's a Life Soul which the Witch of Izalith uses. This soul is likely responsible for most animals in game. It also made Demons.
Nito has a Death Soul which allows all living beings to truly die, including humans if the FF is powerful enough to let his soul do that. Nito also made life using his soul by animating dead human skeletons and giants. I'm not certain if skeletons are sentient beings as they have no brain so they're likely just magical soldiers puppetted by necromancer or possibly sentient magic.
Dark makes humans.
Gwyn placed the Dark Sign upon humams which causes them to lose their Dark Soul slowly as they start to die physically or mentally. Each physical or mental death brings them closer to losing themselves. Loss of motivation or physically dying causes the Dark Sign to eat away at their humanity which fuels them. When a being loses enough of its soul it can't function properly. It goes mad and rabid and hungers for souls. Once a person goes mad they don't seem to go back to sanity. No matter how much humanity or souls a hollow consumes it stays mad. Ever since the Dark Sign was made humans were linked to flame. If flame weakens then humans revert to their immortal state but with the consequences of losing themselves upon the use of immortality which made humans so powerful. This limits their immortality. In order to kill a human fully in Dark Souls the Age of Fire needs to be active so the flame is strong enough to boost the Death Soul to kill them. If the FF is weak then humans will have to be killed repeatedly until they hollow and killed further until even the hollow loses enough of its Dark Soul so that it can't move or maybe it just actually dies as the humanity was burned fully by the Dark Sign.
All things in Dark Souls need the FF in order to kill them. The FF seems to be a fire that fuels the power of the Light, Death, Life Souls. If it weakens then so does the influence of these souls. The light Soul gets weaker and the sky duller. Humans return to their default state of immortality as the Death part of the FF can't burn their soul completely. Idk how the Life soul is affected. Maybe people can't be born until the FF is strong again. Each time someone dies it takes power from the Death Soul.
The Dark Soul is a soul that never really fades as time passes. It is associated with hunger and cold and a still peace. The Dark Soul is a good fuel source for the FF as Dark is something that in the real world never needs energy to exist. It exists in the absence of light. Creatures born of the Dark Soul are naturally immortal. They can die and come back later with no problem. I think dying is humanities' talent as when they die with a Dark Sigil, which is basically a mark of humanity without the insanity causing fire ring, the sigil gets stronger. This allows players to get more level.
Leveling up in Dark Souls is the process of fueling your soul to increase your power. Flame can use humanity as kindling. People with Light Souls can have it consumed and slowly replaced by Dark. Such as Velstadt. No matter the vessel and its soul, a person gains strength with a stronger soul. Souls can be fueled with many types of souls. Even creatures born of light souls seem to be able to gain strength through souls. Such as Seath as he should be far weaker than Kalameet but as he has some of Gwyn's soul he seems to be quite on par with Kalameet. Sister Friede is quite small but she has a powerful soul which allows her to throw you into the air and have 10 times your health. It gets confusing as creatures have multiple types of souls on them. Humans in game seem to have an ability to absorb souls from the air around them and store it somewhere on them where it can be spent and used. Humans always are powered by their Dark Soul. If they start losing their humanity they begin going insane. Having motivation seems to stop a person going mad and having their humanity burnt so severly by the Dark Sign. It gives them a reason to cling onto life and last longer.
In DS3 you are an unkindled. You aren't a basic undead. You were undead who burnt themselves to ash as you weren't powerful enough to fuel the FF. Your character in game seems to be powered by light souls. You don't use humanity but embers to fuel your new light soul. Humans look like hollows naturally without the fleshy stuff that light seems to give an illusion of. As you are now a light being you look like a fleshy human. Unless you get a Dark Sigil which is your very own Dark Soul which causes you to look like a husk, a corpse, an actual lore accurate human.
When you kill a human in game you get their plain souls that they carry as well as a piece of their humanity. Usually anyway. If you kill a primeval human which I don't think is bound by the Dark Sign it seems to die completely which is strange. Maybe you absorb it's essence completely not allowing it to take shape. If you kill Manus or Nashandra you get the plain souls that they accumulated and their Dark soul. They have their own soul that isn't just labeled humanity for some reason. That when crushed turns into white plain souls and not broken down into fragments making humanity. So plain white souls must be what all manner of souls are made from. But for some reason you can't break humanity down into plain souls. Humanity is the smallest fragment of a Dark Soul you can get before it loses it's form and breaks down further into plain souls I'm guessing.
Bonfires seem to have a bubble of time that it affects around it. In DS2 if you strengthen the flame of a bonfire the enemies seem to get stronger within the area around it. You seem to be able to strengthen enemies linked to the fire. Including humans. As light is related to time and space in DS the bonfire seems to be able to reset time for certain things. Allowing you to have a perpetual amount of souls to be farmed from enemies as long as the fire is lit.

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Chapter 15: For What You’ve Tamed
“We’ve come a long way, Vikri. Let’s finish your story,” Rayner said as he sat down in the same chair, crossing his legs in the same way.; small consistencies that made the task of talking about my past seem a little more routine. “I understand you lost someone important to you that day.”
I shifted slightly where I sat. “Yeah,” I answered coarsely. I grabbed at the poncho hanging over my shoulders. I remembered what it felt like in my dreams. Radiant warmth always seemed to emanate from it. Not necessarily the poncho itself, but Tenga’s memory. I realized that as long as I had those, then he was still here in a way. I’d much rather have him here than his memory though.
Rayner nodded. “I know what that’s like,” he said in a near whisper.
I shook my head. “It’s not just that I lost him. I…I failed,” I rasped. “I could’ve saved him. Maybe if I’d gone back I could’ve gotten the equipment before the fire did. I was too afraid.”
Rayner nodded slowly. “And now you feel responsible.”
I remained silent as I clutched my tail on the couch beside me. Rayner already knew the answer. He pursed his lips. “Yeah…I know exactly how that feels.”
I looked up at him. For the first time, his eyes weren’t on me, but on the adjacent wall as he seemed to ponder something. “You think about all the things you could have done differently. Things that are so obvious in hindsight,” he sighed and adjusted his glasses. “If only it were that clear in the moment.” He looked up at me, clasping his hands together. “So walk me through what happened.”
I could still vividly remember the moment Tenga got shot. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. So quickly in fact, that it even took Tenga a moment to realize there was a hole in his torso. Minutes of continuous tension shattered with a hail of gunfire lasting less than a second. The echoes continued to howl through the mountains long after the bodies met the snow. My friend was fatally wounded, the snow around him dyed bright red with his blood. And I had to leave him.
The entire time I was in the belly of the federation destroyer with danger lurking around every corner, all I wanted to do was to get this done as quickly as possible and get back to him. I was enraged that they’d done this to him and to billions just like him.
“Tenga was all I thought about the entire time,” I croaked. “And I…I was willing to kill everyone onboard to get back to him, even if there was no way I ever could. I… did things I could never have imagined myself doing even just days ago. I tore a chunk out of my leg just to be able to get to the Krakotl pinning me down with a crowbar.” I inhaled deeply, staring down at my reflection in the water, recalling my bloodshot eyes in the reflection of the ship's monitor. The grimly colorful bloodstains in my fur from several different species.
Rayner nodded. “It was a desperate situation. Many don’t see themselves doing things like that until they’re put in a situation where it's necessary. A situation where it's do or die. No one can fault you for that, especially not with all that depended on you.”
“I guess I just…It’s just worrying knowing that there’s a part of me capable of that.”
The doctor tapped his pen on his notepad as he seemed to think for a moment. “Do you worry that you may have violent outbursts?”
I scoffed. “Well, the events of a few days ago provided good grounds for worry.”
Rayner nodded. “Aggression is common for PTSD victims. It can be difficult to manage intense emotions when your mind is already dealing with so much.
I shook my head. “That’s not the person I want to be.”
Rayner nodded. “I know Vikri. That’s why it's so crucial for you to talk about this stuff. The less all of this weighs on you, the better you’ll be able to control those emotions when they arise.”
He finished writing on his notepad before taking off his glasses and leaning forward slightly. “So what happened to Tenga?”
The question made my heart sink. My mind went quiet. The second hand of time sounded like the footsteps of a giant marching toward…something. My body seemed to go cold and numb. “He died…” I croaked, staring down at the table. That was the first time I’d admitted that to myself verbally in such a direct way. “And I tried so hard,” I choked, tears now streaming down my face. “I did everything in my power to save him. I even put Querek’s life in danger.”
I felt the heat. I could feel cold water dripping from my paws as the burning ship melted the frost accumulating in my fur. I remembered the terrifying hopelessness that gripped me as I gripped Querek and pushed him into the snow. He tried to sacrifice himself for Tenga. What if I had let him? Would it have even worked? Could Tenga accept that?
I recalled the story to Rayner, battling to keep my composure. “I…I watched him die,” I choked. “And I was furious. Reese had to pull me off of him. I wanted to do…something, anything, but…he told them not to bring him back. I think he…” I winced at the thought of him considering this. “I think he’d rather have died sacrificing himself over…going rabid.”
Silence perforated the room for what felt like several long minutes. Rayner sat with his legs crossed, his hand propped up against his mouth. He seemed to become lost in thought for a moment before speaking. “I know how that guilt feels,” he admitted quietly.
I looked at him, somewhat surprised. “You do?”
Rayner nodded, rubbing his hands together. “My son,” he said plainly, taking a long pause before he continued. “He and Jesse were very close as kids. Practically brothers.” He tapped on his clipboard with his pen. “I was…not so available in those days. I was a very different man than I am now. I was still in school. I was always busy, always stressed. I hadn't even considered becoming a therapist. I was deadset on becoming a neurosurgeon.” He scoffed at himself, his head gently shaking back and forth as his gaze grew distant. His delivery lacked that matter-of-fact candor I was so used to by now. He was much quieter; less animated. His eye contact was sporadic and he never stopped fidgeting with his pen. Everything about him seemed suddenly mired in an emotion that was difficult to read. That was when I saw everything we'd done over the past few days for what it really was. Rayner wasn't invincible. He never claimed to be. He was hurt; I could hear it in his voice. He wasn't a person reaching down into the mud and yanking me out by the nape of the neck. He was man covered in mud himself. He wasn't an untouchable hero. Merely a guide.
He continued as that realization struck me. “I loved him as much as a father could. But I was so busy that…well I wasn't there as much as I'd like to have been. That put a big strain on our relationship.” He removed his glasses and wiped the lenses a few times before he continued. “One night we got into an argument. He’d just gotten his license. He had an old beat-up car I'd bought him for his birthday,” he chuffed. “A teen’s first car is always…eccentric. Thought it was a great deal at the time.” He sighed and nodded slightly before continuing. “He left the house enraged, speeding down the road. After a few miles, he lost control, swerved off the road, and hit a tree head-on. The airbag never deployed. The car crumpled like a soda can.”
I stared at him, speechless as he concluded in a near-whisper. “He was declared dead at the scene.”
The room felt hollow for a few long seconds. I searched for a reply but couldn't fathom the right words to say. Fortunately, Rayner didn't stay silent for long. “Like you, I blamed myself for a long…long time.” He sighed. “And it nearly destroyed me.”
I stared at the floor, fidgeting with my tail. “How did you…overcome that?”
“Well it didn't happen overnight,” he replied, flashing a brief smile. “It takes time but, at some point, you have to carry on living. You have to continue loving.” His eyes creased slightly as he looked down at his own hands. “You have to keep loving,” he repeated in a low whisper.
Loud silence claimed the room again as his words sank in. He was right. It was either accept what happened or live like this forever. Looking at it that pragmatically, the choice seemed easy. Emotions are never so logical though. It wasn’t as if he relieved himself of that burden either, it was obvious he still carried it. It just…didn’t weigh as much now. Not because it got lighter, but because he got stronger. I eased into speaking again. “I…I'm sorry. About your son.”
Rayner nodded. “I'm sorry about your friend.”
We both stewed in silence for a minute before Rayner spoke up. “We’ll send you home today.”
“You…really think I’m ready?”
Rayner nodded slowly. “I think so. The medication seems to be working, you haven’t had any breakdowns since you’ve been here. You’ve gotten much better at discussing these things. I think you’re equipped to face this now.”
“...I’m afraid,” I croaked.
“Of what?” Rayner asked, leaning forward
“Of…seeing Lucky again. I'm doubting whether I even should. I was never prepared to be her master. I’m just a danger to her.”
“Vikri,” Rayner exhaled and leaned forward. “You made a mistake. We all do. But you have a responsibility to her. You should at least see her and face that mistake, or you’ll never have closure. What you decide after that is your choice, but I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think.”
“I hope so,” I sighed.
Rayner clicked his pen and set his notepad aside. “We’ve made you some medication to take home, same stuff you've been taking. The plan is to keep lowering the dosage until you’re sleeping without it. We’ve made you some sheets with all the daily doses on them and when to take each one. It’s enough to last you two weeks, then once they’re out, you’ll come back here for another session, then if you need it, we’ll get you more and keep weaning you off them.”
He leaned forward, emphasizing his next words. “And I cannot recommend enough that you go to Jesse’s support group in between our meetings. Those will help you tremendously, I’m sure of it.”
I nodded. “I have his number. I’ll…I’ll give it a shot.”
“You won't regret it,” Rayner assured me. “Jesse was in the same chair as you not too long ago for similar reasons. He has knowledge from first-hand experience. I can vouch for him, he’s a great guy.” He inhaled. “Well, is there anything else Vikri? We won’t be seeing each other again for a while, so if there’s anything else, now’s the time to talk about it.”
I thought for a second. We’d covered almost everything. I’d never discussed those days in so much detail. It felt like being submerged in icy water. It was miserable at first, but over time it became easier, even comfortable. I’d relived so much pain over the last three days, but here at the end of the whole story, It felt less like a nightmare, and more like reality. “No, I don’t think so,” I finally replied.
“Then I’ll clear you to go home. Andrea is here, she’ll give you a ride, I’m sure. Here.” He reached over and handed me a small business card. “That has all my contact information on it. I’m usually here in my office until late at night, so feel free to call if you need anything. If the sedative gives you any issues at all, any side effects, make sure to call and let me know. We followed the recipe to a tee, but it’s wise to be cautious.”
A familiar silence flooded the room as Rayner and I seemed to, for the first time, have nothing left to say. Finally, the doctor spoke. “See you in two weeks, Vikri.”
///////////////////////////////
Golden strands of light danced between the digits of my paw as I moved it in front of the brilliant summer sun. An intense beacon of warmth floating in a sky as blue as Earth’s oceans. The rumble of Andy’s car occupied the air as we cruised down the highway. Vivri was sound asleep in the backseat. The gentle white noise and vibration seemed to knock her out cold. I watched the sunrays dance as I waved my paw in front of me, before turning it around. Several spots on my paw still had obvious scars. I even still had burn scars from the electrical systems aboard the crumbling Cardinal.
I curled my paw closed into a fist and rested my head against it, watching the lush, green mountains pass by in the distance. After three days I was set loose into the world once again, hopefully better armed than I was before. Even after all the weight I doffed from my shoulders in Rayner’s office, a crushing mass still rested on my chest. Lucky.
The weight only became heavier as the car slowed, and rounded a corner into the parking lot of a large animal hospital. Andy gently brought the car to a stop in a parking space in front of the entrance. Occasionally people would walk in and out with their pets, many of which were dogs on leashes.
Vivri stirred awake after we stopped. “Oh…We’re here,” she muttered nervously. “There’s…a lot more animals here than I was expecting.”
Andy chuckled. “It’s an animal hospital girl, there’s gonna be all kinds of critters here.”
I turned around to face her. “You don’t have to go in there. You and Andy can wait here.”
Andy scoffed. “You might wanna tell Rayner they screwed up those meds, ‘cause you’re delusional if you think I’m letting you go in there by yourself.”
“Well I don’t want her to be alone out here,” I argued.
“I’ll go in, just…stay close, please?” Vivri interjected.
I looked back at her, ears tilted. She was dead serious. I sighed and shook my head. “This is gonna be a disaster,” I groaned.
Andy opened her door. “I’ll wait with her in the lobby, you go talk to the vets. It’ll be fine.”
I looked back at Vivri one last time as Andy stepped out. “Alright, just stay away from the cats.” I opened my door and began stepping out into the summer air.
“C-cats?”
“Small felines. They're demons with mind control,” I replied just before closing the door.
Vivri scrambled out of the car and followed right on my heels. “Well don’t just leave me!” she squeaked.
I laughed. “I’m kidding. Well, mostly.”
Walking into the building, I realized that Lucky had been in a very similar place as me over the past three days. The lobby felt eerily similar to the one at the medical center. Everything went silent as Vivri and I walked in. Immediately I could feel dozens of eyes on us. Vivri hid close behind me as Andy gestured for me to follow her to the desk.
I doubted any of the humans there meant any harm, but dozens of binocular eyes snapping onto her in an instant had Vivri more unsettled than she already was. It didn’t help that several dogs were either on leashes or in carriers in the lobby, which were no doubt just as curious. I grabbed Viv’s paw. “They don't see many Venlil,” I whispered. “Just ignore them.”
I approached the desk with Vivri still hiding behind me. “E-excuse me?” I stuttered. The woman at the desk looked up, clearly caught off guard by two venlil standing before her. “O-oh! Excuse me, you must be Lucky’s owner, right?”
“Yeah. Vikri.” I could feel Vivri shivering behind me.
“I’ll let Doctor Gavin know you’re here.”
“Thanks,” I muttered before turning to Vivri. “Are you sure about this?” I whispered.
“Of course! It’s just for a few minutes, right?” Her body language gave an entirely different answer. She seemed like she might faint at any moment.
I looked up at Andy. “Keep her close, would you?”
Andy wrapped her arms over Viv’s shoulders. “Of course. I’ll keep little Vivi safe from all the big, bad puppy dogs and mean kitties,” she said in baby speak, twisting her side to side. She giggled. “We’ll be fine.” Her tone suddenly shifted as she locked eyes with me. “Will you?”
I stood there in silence for a moment. This entire time my heart felt unbearably heavy. Standing there, I felt nauseous. So much so that I made it a point to know exactly where the bathroom was when I walked in. The weight on my chest made breathing a laborious task. I heaved in a deep breath. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in there but…I have to do this. For both of us.”
Andy exhaled and nodded, seemingly just as nervous for me. Right on cue, the door at the back of the room opened with a heavy click. “Vikri?” a male voice called out. An older gentleman in burgundy scrubs surveyed the room. It didn’t take long for him to find me. He nodded toward me as he adjusted his glasses. “Right this way, please.”
“We’ll be right here,” Andy whispered, her hands still resting around Viv’s shoulders, who agreed with a tail flick.
I nodded and walked toward the man, leaving the cozy waiting room behind, and entering a long, sterile hallway. The doctor’s shoes clicked against the tile as he walked just in front of me. The weight bearing down on my chest only got heavier with each step. After a few agonizing seconds, the man finally spoke up as he stopped outside a door. “I’m Doctor Gavin,” he said breathily, extending a hand. “I performed Lucky’s surgery.”
I took his hand with my paw, which he could no doubt tell was trembling by this point. “Vikri,” I choked. “S-so…How is she?”
“She’s good,” Gavin answered in a higher pitch. “She’s recovering remarkably fast. Really lived up to her name.” He opened the door and stepped through into a kennel area as he continued. “The bullet hit one of her ribs and shattered. A couple of fragments pierced her lung, one of them was just inches from her heart. There’re still a few very small ones lodged in her tissue, but we’d be doing more harm than good by trying to remove them. They shouldn’t cause any issues and come out on their own after some time, but we’ll keep track of them with x-rays.”
As he spoke we passed by kennels, some empty, some with dogs that barked or jumped up on the cage as we passed. I scoured each one for Lucky, my dread building with each one we passed. Suddenly, the doctor stopped in front of me. He inhaled deeply. “I should mention…Given the…circumstances of how she got these injuries, me and some staff will stay with you just in case she becomes aggressive. That’s not to say that I think she will,” he added hastily, “she’s been great with everyone here but…you know, just to be safe.”
“I get it,” I breathed. It made sense. If Lucky attacked me, it would be far more deadly than it would be for a human. And I was confident even a human wouldn’t last long against a half-wolf her size. Fittingly, a group of four humans were gathered at the end of the hallway, catchers in hand.
Time seemed to slow as I approached the pen. The staff members all looked over at me with the same anxious expression. I felt like a prisoner walking toward my judgment, and that perhaps it was me that belonged behind these cages. I swallowed and took a long, slow breath as Gavin opened the gate. He walked in ahead of me. “Hey there big girl,” he said in a chipper tone. I heard the familiar thumping of Lucky’s tail against the floor. Gavin chuckled to himself as the remaining four staff calmly and quietly filed into the pen. Once they were all inside, the final human leaned around the corner, looked me in the eyes for a long second, and nodded once.
A new reality awaited around that corner. My sentence was about to be read. It felt so cripplingly helpless; wanting so desperately to finally be reunited with my best friend, yet trembling at the thought of rounding a corner to run face-first into the consequences of my actions. I steeled myself one last time. I nodded back at the catcher and took slow, deliberate steps toward him. I finally rounded the corner, and for the first time since the incident, I saw Lucky.
She lay on a large, fabric bed, with food and water bowls close by. Her right front leg was bound in a cast, tied up close to her body. A large patch of fur had been shaved away around her chest and halfway up her neck. She seemed thinner than I remembered. It reminded me of the scared, hungry pup I’d met so long ago.
Her eyes tracked onto mine instantly, and I felt an ache that defied all imagination. The same gaze that would send almost any other Venlil scrambling down the hallway instead gripped some inner part of me in a cold, numb stasis. I couldn’t move. Part of me wanted to run to her and spill out how sorry I was. Another wanted to curl up on the floor right there and sob, returning to that familiar numbness that seemed akin to the ancient enemy of life itself. The cold. That bitterness that pierced through fur, through flesh, through bones, and any ideal held by the naive child that sat next to Tenga’s corpse that day. It ran through until there was nothing left.
Then, I felt a warmth as if someone had draped a blanket over me. I gripped my poncho around my shoulders, grabbing it tightly. I made a quiet promise to myself there and then. Not a promise to my sister, or my parents, or Andrea. Me. I wouldn’t lie down in the cold. Never again. One more hill.
“Hey Lucky,” I said, my voice coarse and breaking every syllable.
The silence was abruptly broken as Lucky, though seemingly frail, shot to her feet. Everyone in the room shifted, prepared for the worst. I didn’t dare move, but I could feel my heart pounding in my legs, my body preparing to bolt. The staff watched her carefully, their grip slightly tightened around their polls. Lucky made no sounds, only stared at me, her nostrils flaring as she gathered my scent. Her right front leg was useless, immobilized against her body. She shifted her footing to steady herself. Then I saw something that replaced fear with tears. She was shaking like a leaf, never taking her eyes off me. She could care less about the others. She was scared. Of me.
I felt myself fall off a ledge in a sensation I’d become all too familiar with over the last few weeks. Tears streamed down my face, my breath hitching as I brought my paws up to my face. I fell to my knees, the presence of the staff had become irrelevant. “I’m…I’m sorry,” I exhaled between gasps. “I’m so sorry.”
So there it was. My new reality. It wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but it was what I expected. I didn’t know what I’d do then, and I didn’t know now. Could I go on without Lucky? She was the one fortress in the turbulent seas of my broken mind. She was the one I could always count on. The one that I knew would always be there, no matter what. Now I was convinced she was terrified of me.
I sat there a shattered mess for a long moment, tumbling off that cliff and reaching out for anything to catch myself, but found nothing but jagged stones. I felt a hand on my shoulder, Doctor Gavin attempting to comfort me, I assumed. Until I felt something touch my knee. I looked up, thrown out of the spiral abruptly. Lucky was now just in front of me, licking my leg. I froze, confused. She gently laid down, careful of her bandaged leg as she rested her head on my leg, looking up at me. That was the same leg she’d broken months ago. Finally, I got it. “I hurt you, and you still loved me.”
A wave of relief rushed through me and I looked down at her, eyes glossy with tears. I bent down and rested my head against hers. I laughed, though it sounded more like a sob. For the first time in days, I felt whole again.
Lucky still loved me.
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New to the subreddit, not new to Gaylor... Finally making another post. Most of Taylor's songs I don't have much confidence in my interpretation of who or what it may or may not be about (and I think more songs have double meanings and layers than we often give credit for - the same way I might blend patient stories to make one case study for a presentation or to protect privacy -- I work in healthcare).

PEACE

But I have one interpretation that I am more confident than anything about... and that is that Peace is about asking your Beard if they're really sure they are in this for the long haul... I have no evidence for this other than the lyrics themselves, but it's always been the first thing I heard and I've never been able to unhear it or accept any other answer for what this song is about.

Our coming-of-age has come and gone Suddenly the summer, it's clear I never had the courage of my convictions As long as danger is near And it's just around the corner, darling 'Cause it lives in me No, I could never give you peace

A nod to backing out of coming out, but also that being outed or coming out feels inevitable because it's who she is.

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

"loves for show" "i would die for you in secret" feels like a very "wait what" phrase, and to me reads as the people that know you're my beard think it's all an act, but I really do care about you.
"devils in the details" "you got a friend in me" .... sure, we have a contract, it's not real, but also we are friends, again, I really do care about you.

Your integrity makes me seem small You paint dreamscapes on the wall I talk shit with my friends It's like I'm wasting your honor

You've been so good during this, I don't deserve it

And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences Sit with you in the trenches Give you my wild, give you a child Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother Is it enough?

I'll give you all of it... the picture perfect life. We'll get married, have kids, I'll choose you as my family.

But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

But this secret is still always right around the corner. It'll catch up eventually.

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

I can never give you my full peace. I can never be fully at peace in this relationship because I'm hiding part of who I am, and that restless desire to live in the my full identity will always be under the surface. Is it enough, even I can never fully be at peace, if I still care about you, and commit myself to you?

SNOW ON THE BEACH

The next song I'm less 100% convinced on, but another that once I heard it, it's been hard to hear it any other way, and as I listen to all of TTDP I feel a bit more convinced in the theory... I think Snow On The Beach is about falling in love with your Beard. It wasn't supposed to happen... it wasn't going to happen... until it did.

One night, a few moons ago I saw flecks of what could've been lights But it might just have been you Passing by unbeknownst to me Life is emotionally abusive And time can't stop me quite like you did And my flight was awful, thanks for asking I'm unglued, thanks to you
And it's like snow at the beach Weird but fuckin' beautiful Flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful You wanting me tonight feels impossible But it's comin' down, no sound, it's all around Like snow on the beach
This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen I searched aurora borealis green I've never seen someone lit from within Blurring out my periphery My smile is like I won a contest And to hide that would be so dishonest And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it 'Til you do, 'til it's true
I (I) can't (can't) speak afraid to jinx it I (I) don't (don't) even dare to wish it But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet Now I'm all for you like Janet Can this be a real thing? Can it?

Okay, really the main things in this song to point to it are the bits I bold... this is fucking weird, but it's beautiful. We faked it til we made it... ie we faked being in love until we actually were... can this actually be real now?
TTPD
That brings us to TTPD... First, there are just a few lines in songs that to me point that what developed with Joe became something more real, even though it started not real...
My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Just say when, I'd play again He was my best friend Down at the sandlot I felt more when we played pretend Than with all the Kens Cause he took me out of my box Stole my tortured heart Left all these broken parts Told me I'm better off But I'm not

This stood out to me as "this one beard relationship was different than the others, I actually felt something more."
So Long, London

And you say I abandoned the ship But I was going down with it My white knuckle dying grip Holding tight to your quiet resentment and My friends said it isn't right to be scared Every day of a love affair Every breath feels like rarest air When you're not sure if he wants to be there

This stood out as not being able to tell if Joe was in it in it after she was, or if he was in it because of the contract... she actually loved him now, but was he just playing his part still... spoilers, turns out the answer to Peace was, "no, it's not enough."

THE PROPHECY

My last random addition here is the only other song besides Peace that I feel fully convicted on the One True Interpretation that I have... which is that The Prophecy is about desperately trying to find a way out of the closet after all these years, and all these failed attempts.

Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle Oh, but it's gone again And it was written I got cursed like Eve got bitten Oh, was it punishment?

Finally going full throttle - coming out full steam ahead (ie Me!/Lover era)... but wait, no... The curse/Eve symbology here is also very 👀 because of general evangelical christian "being gay is a sin" and is she cursed every time she tries to come out because it's a sin like everyone (her dad) says.

Pad around when I get home I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope A greater woman wouldn't beg But I looked to the sky and said

You'd think after that, I'd give up on it... but I still can't stop wanting this.

Please I've been on my knees Change the prophecy Don't want money Just someone who wants my company Let it once be me Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo The prophecy?

Literally begging... please let me come out. Please let me just be happy. I don't care about the money. I want a real relationship, not sneaking around and hiding and feeling like it's shameful. Please just let me be me.

Cards on the table Mine play out like fools in a fable, oh It was sinking in Slow is the quicksand Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand Oh, still I dream of him

She's been played in this game the whole time... if we believe she's wanted to come out since she first started, and was told "not yet" over and over... they knew it's what she wanted, and they just had to keep moving the yardstick further and further for when it would be the "right time" the "safe time" to come out. "You're not established enough yet" "It will hurt your sales" "Keep waiting"
I don't have a specific thought on the last two lines of this one, but welcome some additional thoughts on it.

And I sound like an infant Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen A greater woman stays cool But I howl like a wolf at the moon And I look unstable Gathered with a coven round a sorceress' table A greater woman has faith But even statues crumble if they're made to wait I'm so afraid I sealed my fate No sign of soulmates I'm just a paperweight In shades of greige Spending my last coin so someone will tell me It'll be ok

How many more times can she ask for this, beg for this. It's affecting her mental health, she has been so patient until she can't be anymore, and the cracks are showing.
I also notice the shift here from "a greater woman wouldn't beg" to "a greater woman stays cool" and "a greater woman has faith" ... whatever she's doing, a biggebettestronger woman would be able to handle it, she's told time and again. Trust us. Calm down. It's coming. Just not yet. ... over and over and over...
I'm so afraid I sealed my fate - this one is a gut punch for me... she's a part of this. Ultimately she made the choices, too. She decided not to come out, over and over. Even if she was manipulated or given bad advice... she schemed and planned and meticulously hid this part of herself, knowingly... and can she ever come back from that? Can she really come out after all the effort she's put into painting a picture perfect Straight Taylor?
And therefore... no soulmates. she's stuck in shades of grey... (which really really ties into other themes of her closeted/heteronormative performance is grey, dull, lifeless vs the colorful, rich kaleidoscope of her true self.... ie the Lover era vs all the ones since... This stands out to me in But Daddy, I Love Him...

If all you want is gray for me//Then it's just white noise//And it's just my choice

I just don't see how those lines can be anything BUT about being queer....

Who do I have to speak to To change the prophecy?

The song ends in continued echoed pleas.... How do I get out of this. How do I change it? Will I ever actually get my time... Back to But Daddy, I Love Him...

Too high a horse For a simple girl to rise above it They slammed the door on my whole world The one thing I wanted

The one thing I wanted... but it's always been too high... again, it's a moving target, she can never rise high enough to actually get what she's wanted since she started... And again, they slammed the door on all of it...

TL;DR

Anyway, All of that to say...
I think Peace is about asking Joe if he's sure he's really in this for the long haul... then Taylor fell in love with him, which caught her by surprise... then Joe decided actually, he wasn't in for the long haul... and I think TTPD is about the bitter heartbreak of not being able to come out, but there's some Joe nods that I think represent the genuine heartbreak she's had after they officially absolved their relationship/contracted obligations.

Are they second-hand embarrassed That I can't get out of bed? Cause something counterfeit's dead

(okay, I don't think most of loml is about Joe, just this one line has been KEEPING ME UP AT NIGHT OKAY. This line makes me think that she genuinely was heartbroken and crushed when she and Joe officially ended... because a fake relationship is dead, and she can't get out of bed....)

“What do you mean it’s wrong?” said Tamara, becoming frustrated with Samuel.
“I'm trying to tell you that plants do not eat earth. They just absorb nutrients from it,” Samuel replied, equally annoyed as this was the fourth time he had explained it. “Look, just take my word for it, OK,” he added.
“Fine, but you will have to explain it again,” Tamara retorted.
Samuel and Tamara were partners in a scientific study of their forest home. It was genuinely idyllic in every sense of the word; the trees stretched high into the sky, and everyone was covered in succulent leaves, a deep and gorgeous shade of green. Around their trunks were rings of flowers gathered from every continent, and a thick carpet of grass lay on the ground.
The two sat underneath a chestnut tree, writing up their findings for the day. It had focused mainly on tree sizes and growth rates, and they had continued this study for, on and off, almost a year.
Samuel turned to look at his assistant and found that she was just as remarkable as the day they had first met: golden locks, like living sunlight, tied neatly in a bun. Her eyes were an emerald green, and all in all, she was gorgeous. However, it was when you came to her waist that things became truly incredible because rather than a pair of legs, there was a long and wide snake’s tail.
It was huge, at least seven metres long and as wide as her torso. The scales were the same beautiful colour as her hair and reflected the sunlight in such a way that she appeared to glow. She was wearing an ultramarine tunic with a black diamond in the centre. She was like this not because of a plague, a curse or some mutation; Tamara was a Lamia; it was how she was born.
Samuel, on the other hand, looked far less impressive. He was around five foot ten, with dull brown hair and equally dull eyes. His stomach stuck out from the rest of him. No amount of exercise was able to get rid of it.
He was by every description a ‘dull as dishwater’ human. His clothes, however, were slightly more interesting. He wore a navy blue tunic with a thick leather belt wrapped around his waist. On his feet was a pair of excellent leather boots, able to withstand whatever the world threw at them and on his forearms and shins, he wore something Tamara had never seen or even heard of before: a pair of vambraces and greaves, Samuel called it armour.
Three strips of rugged leather layered on top of one another made up each piece, and between each layer was a collection of tiny metal beads. When Tamara asked what they were for, Samuel said they were for protection.
All of this would have been inconceivable to Samuel two years ago, but he had become used to it in time. Samuel was not born into this world; he had arrived. How? He did not know, but he remembered it all vividly; his senses had been overloaded, and at first, he believed he had died.
“What’s wrong?” Tamara asked Samuel, who had been silent for over a minute.
Samuel snapped out of his daydream and said: “nothing, just thinking about that day again.”
Tamara nodded and said nothing else; she knew exactly what was wrong.
Samuel went straight back to writing. When Samuel first showed up, there had been no paper or pens, but what was even stranger than the lack of these apparent necessities was that Samuel had had to invent both of these items.
Tamara and those like her did not possess a written language; they relied entirely on their memories, and until Samuel had shown up, Tamara had not even conceived of the notion, but she had picked it up astonishingly quickly.
“It still sounds like eating to me,” said Tamara, bringing the conversation back to the original topic.
“Well, it isn’t; eating requires a mouth and stomach,” Samuel replied.
“Says who?” Tamara asked defiantly.
“Says me,” Samuel answered.
Samuel jotted down the last of his notes and left the pages to dry in the sun. Samuel then turned to his right and looked at a large book, the size of a chair’s seat, bound in yellow leather and knotted by animal tendons. He picked it up and began to leaf through the pages.
His eyes glanced over paragraphs about oak trees and orchid flowers until he finally reached the section he sought; the page was titled Silver Birch (Betula Pendula).
“Have you finished the drawing on Silver Birch yet?” Samuel asked without looking.
Tamara was currently focused on a drawing of sunflowers, but she understood his request and, without looking up or saying a word, handed him the picture he wanted.
Samuel took the drawing and took several moments admiring it. Like all her work, the picture was astounding; not only did it look like an actual Silver Birch, but it also seemed to be alive, as though it would start blowing in the breeze.
Samuel punched four holes along the sheet's left side, undid the tendon strings and then attached the drawing behind the title page. He added eight more pages to his book, four of text and four illustrations.
Their work was now done; there was no more writing or drawing today, and he placed their work into a knapsack Tamara had brought with her. Samuel turned to his partner and asked: “so what do you want to do now?”
Tamara looked up through the canopy and could make out the silhouettes of several birds and finally said: “I’d quite like to fly.”
Samuel smiled, chuckled and said, “Yes, so would I, but that would require every member of the village working together for decades.”
Tamara looked Samuel in the eye and said: “are you making fun of me?”
Samuel did not reply; he just looked Tamara dead in the eye. She observed every minute twitch on Samuel's face and concluded he was not.
“How could a person fly?” She asked, suddenly intrigued.
“I don’t know, I’m not an engineer,” Samuel answered, “So apart from flying, what else do you want to do?”
Tamara let out a sigh and said: “I guess we will just have to walk.”
These were the moments Samuel lived for, just a quiet afternoon with his best friend enjoying a stroll; he was utterly content.
“You seem chipper,” Tamara said, noticing the growing smile on Samuel’s face.
“That’s because I feel chipper” he replied
They passed through the trees, heading towards their favourite spot, a beach by the side of a lake so large you could not see the other side.
“So, how is everyone?” Samuel said, trying to spark a conversation.
“You mean every single one because that could take a while?” Tamara replied.
“Let’s start with your mother” he clarified.
Tamara’s mother, Pancha, was more or less just a larger version of her daughter, just as brash and headstrong.
“She’s fine; she has finally stopped asking me what happened every time I come to meet you,” she said.
“Really, and it only took her two and a half years,” said Samuel with a smirk.
Yes, that first year here, had been a real trial. Samuel had never felt so scared, isolated and persecuted in his life. When he thought about it, he could still feel the fear and the hopelessness.
A gust of air slammed into Samuel’s face, bringing him back to the present, and what a wonderful time it was. The water was crystal clear, the beach was covered in sparkling white sand, and the distinct aroma of water wafted through the air. Samuel breathed it all in as Tamara spread herself over the beach.
The cooling breeze that Samuel found so enjoyable, Tamara found far less agreeable. Tamara was ectothermic or cold-blooded. She could not maintain her body temperature; she needed to absorb it from her environment, and the wind was slowly draining her.
“Comfortable down there?” Samuel asked.
Tamara turned her head, looked up at him and said: “Actually, yes, not as good as my bed, but still fine.”
Samuel left Tamara to her thermoregulation and strolled down to the water’s edge, “stay where I can see you!” Tamara called.
“Yes, MOM,” Samuel answered sarcastically, though he knew it was more for Tamara’s sake than his; she had a problem with open spaces.
Samuel closed his eyes, stretched his arms above his head, feeling his muscles strain against the tension, and yawned. Small tears formed in his eyes and wiped them away. He had only been up for a few hours but was ready for bed.
“Too much thinking, that was the problem,” Samuel mumbled to himself.
The sunlight sparkled on the water’s surface. It seemed as though millions of diamonds were suddenly brought into existence, danced for a few moments, and then vanished as quickly as they came. It was beautiful, just like everything else here.
He climbed up a rock that jutted from that sand and sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. As he kicked his legs, a ray of sun caught his greaves, and although the leather was rather dull, it still dazzled him.
Samuel heard a sound reminiscent of sandpaper brushing against wood, and he knew at once what it was. He waited four more seconds and said, without moving an inch, “Don’t even think about it!”
“How did you know?” Tamara asked, feeling simultaneously impressed, confused and disappointed.
Samuel looked her in the eye and replied: “who do you think you’re dealing with?”
Tamara had not clambered up the rock like Samuel; she had simply raised herself on her tail so she stood over two metres high.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
Tamara smiled and answered, “yes, thanks for asking.”
Tamara moved behind Samuel and then began to coil around the boulder, and if he had not experienced it all before, it would have been unnerving. Tamara was only twelve and a half, yet she was already far stronger than him. Samuel was sure if Tamara really wanted to, she could crush a bison to death. After the graceful dance around the stone, she sat down beside Samuel.
The pair was silent for a few minutes, except for a quick coughing fit by Samuel; they took in the unnatural beauty of their surroundings.
“Hey, I have a question,” said Tamara, coming back to her senses.
“What is it?” Samuel replied.
“You still haven’t told me why we are studying the forest?” She asked.
In an instant, Samuel became deeply confused. To him, it seemed all too obvious why they were doing it.
“There is no practical reason for doing it. We do it so that we know,” Samuel answered.
Tamara became silent. Samuel realised that she was deep in thought and decided to give her all the time she needed until she finally said: “Is this one of those human things?”
Samuel, upon hearing this, gave a small chuckle and answered: “yes, if you like.”
Suddenly, something caught Samuel’s eye. It was a crab, no bigger than a golf ball. Its back was powder blue, and it held its arms upright, its claws pointing down. The tiny creature would walk forward, scoop some sand into its mouth, and then leave a small pellet behind.
“Look at that!” said Samuel, nudging Tamara’s shoulder and pointing at the tiny crustacean. Tamara turned her head and looked directly at where he was pointing; she strained her eyes at what she thought was a pebble; she was about to climb down and collect it when it suddenly moved, and she squealed.
Tamara dragged the bottom end of her tail up from the beach and timidly said, “What’s that?”
Samuel remembered that tone of voice all too well, and it brought with it some unpleasant memories, but he pushed them to the back of his mind and said: “it’s a crab.”
Samuel was certain he had seen this type of crab before but could not put a name to the image. Samuel was sure he had read about them, watched a documentary, or attended a lecture, but he could not remember. Ultimately, he decided to drop it for now and see if the answer would come to him.
Tamara kept staring at it as though she believed it would pounce if she took her eyes off it for one second.
“Is it dangerous?” she asked, her voice hushed to ensure the creature did not notice her.
Samuel sighed and answered: “it’s a crab, Tamara, unless you happen to be a nematode then…”
Samuel paused mid-sentence as his brain finally connected the dots and asked, “Wait, you have never seen a crab before?”
This perplexed Samuel for a moment until he remembered that Tamara did not have a television, a car, and she could not fly a plane, so it was not unexpected that she would not know what a crab was.
Tamara shook her head in response to his question, and Samuel added: “you know what a woodlouse is, right?”
Tamara nodded and said, “I like woodlice.”
“Well, a crab is just a type of woodlouse that lives near water,” Samuel concluded.
However, he could tell from her face that she was unconvinced, so he got off the rock, walked over to the tiny creature, wary of its pincers, and picked it up by its backside.
“What are you doing?” Tamara called in alarm.
Samuel held the animal, its legs flailing wildly in an attempt to escape, and said, “showing you there is nothing to be worried about.”
Taking care not to crush it, Samuel clambered back up the rock and presented the animal to her. Tamara stared at it for some as the crab bobbed its eye up and down and tried in vain to find a part of Samuel it could nip.
“It’s actually kind of… cute,” Tamara said after two minutes of silence.
She relaxed her tail and let it rest on the beach once more. “Can it hold it?” She asked Samuel, fear being replaced by interest.
“Of course, you can. Just make sure you hold it by its back and be careful of the pincers; if they get you, it will hurt.”
Samuel handed the crab over to her and watched as Tamara began to inspect the animal from every angle. The crab had a white underbelly and purple joints.
“You think you could draw it from memory?” Samuel asked.
“Hmm?” Tamara replied. Samuel let out a sigh and repeated. After three more attempts, Tamara finally took notice and said, “Yes.”
Five minutes later, Samuel said, “we should probably put him back now.”
Tamara moaned about it, but Samuel said: “he has his own life, Tamara; you can’t keep him!”
She conceded, grumbling under her breath, and gently placed the animal back on the sand. As the crab dashed away, the two noticed that while they had been fixated on that single crab, thousands more had emerged on the beach.
Upon seeing the swarm of animals make their way across the beach, Tamara let out a squeal and once again pulled her tail up off the beach. The army of crabs marched along the shore. The collective walking produced a sound loud enough to hear from fifty metres away, and at last, Samuel remembered what they were and said, with no small amount of satisfaction in his voice, “they’re soldier crabs.”
“What are they going to do?” Tamara asked, concerned by the sudden appearance of so many creatures.
Samuel kept staring at the gathering, but he heard her question and replied, “They’re just feeding,” and added quickly, “But we are far too big for them.”
“That's odd,” Samuel said under his breath.
“I know there are so many of them,” Tamara said, deeply unnerved by the sheer vastness of the swarm.
“No,” Samuel said, “There should be this many of them; it’s where they are that is strange.”
Tamara momentarily took her eyes off the army and asked, “So where should they be.” There was a slight flicker of fear in her voice at the prospect of being invaded; rats and mice where bad enough. They did not need another pest.
“By the sea, not a freshwater lake,” he answered.
“The Sea?” Tamara almost yelled. Samuel was a little surprised by this enthusiasm and turned to face her.
“Yes,” he said.
“Have you ever been to the sea,” she asked.
“Yes, many times,” Samuel said, uncertain where this was going.
“I bet it’s wonderful,” Tamara added with a smile.
Samuel was silent as his brain connected a few dots and asked: “how can you know about the sea if you don’t know about crabs?”
She smiled; Tamara enjoyed it when she knew something that he did not, “there is a story that my mom told me that before we came to this forest, we were a different people that lived by the sea.” Tamara paused for a breath.
“But then humans came and drove us from the water, and we fled inland. Our people split into two. One half went to the mountains, and the other settled in the forest.”
Tamara finished and waited for his reply. Samuel, however, just kept looking at her. Tamara was concerned that she had upset him; he did not like it when humans were labelled as the enemy, yet his face and posture were not those of one who was sad or angry.
“You people blame us for everything, don’t you?” Samuel said with a chuckle.
“If there is a fire, it’s a human’s fault. If there is an earthquake, it’s a human’s fault. If a little Boreray boy drinks all their apple juice in one gulp, it’s a human’s fault.”
“So, getting back on topic, where did these “Soldier crabs” come from anyway? We have visited this lake for over two years and never seen even a glimpse?” Tamara asked. Samuel looked back to the slowly advancing army, and several ideas flashed through his head.
“Maybe they have been dormant up until now; perhaps they make a large circle around the lake shore, and it’s simply luck that we were here on the day they passed by, or maybe the migrated here from somewhere else.”
They watched the crabs' ceaseless march until Tamara said, “These things are still giving me the creeps. Can we go now?” Samuel could not argue that there was something eerie about all of these animals appearing, seemingly, from nowhere; however, there was still one thing he had to be certain of.
“You think you could draw one from memory?” he asked.
Tamara’s face contorted in a scowl. Samuel, for all his good points, could become far too focused on his research, which often caused him to become ignorant of other people.
Yet she knew sitting here yelling at him would accomplish nothing, so she told him the truth: “Yes, can we go now!” Samuel nodded and then slid off the rock. Tamara copied him, and they both slinked back to the cover of the trees.
Now that she was beneath the canopy, Tamara let out an enormous sigh of relief as the anxiety slowly left, and the close air warmed her body. On the other hand, Samuel began to chafe at the stagnant air while his head began to bead with sweat, but it was nothing he had not experienced before, so he gritted his teeth and bared with it.
With their plans now ruined, Tamara and Samuel wandered aimlessly through the woods, chatting about what they could do to fill the rest of the day. Several ideas arose, including visiting a nearby waterfall and a set of monument stones, but none truly appealed to them.
In the end, Tamara said, “how about we just call it a day?”
Samuel was happy about this. Tamara was his only form of human contact, yet he could not deny the pointlessness of wandering around the woods, so he said, “Ok, but let’s take the long way.”
Samuel heard a sound above him and saw a red squirrel scampering through the trees.
“Is it difficult?” Tamara asked.
Samuel looked at Tamara and replied, “Well, it can give me a crick in my neck sometimes.”
Tamara let out a short laugh and clarified, “No, I mean, is it difficult being so inquisitive? It looks exhausting.”
He was not entirely sure what she meant by that. To Samuel, Tamara was every bit as curious as him, so he stated: “you tell me, you went out looking for me just because you wanted to know.”
“True,” answered Tamara, “and everyone has always said that I am always asking questions, but you’re like a boar that just ate sugar beat.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Samuel said, shaking his head. “But I do know that people always told me, when I was a boy, that humans are, by their nature, infinitely curious, but personally, I think that it’s just how I was born.” there was a pause, and he quickly added, “just like you.”
Tamara’s fingers started to numb as she brushed them against the bark of passing trees. She took a good look at the trees around her. Tamara had lived her entire life sheltered by these trees. This place was her home, her family’s home and her friend’s home, and she loved it, a perfect example of the innate beauty of nature.
Samuel, however, was of a different opinion this forest disturbed him, though this feeling had diminished with time. The trees all grew in perfect symmetry, four and a half strides form each other.
From Tamara’s perspective, there was nothing strange about this, yet Samuel often said that this should not be possible, that the wood should be a mess and that the trees should grow in an unorganised fashion. Yet to Tamara, the idea of messy forests was just as impossible as a structured one was to him.
Noon came and went, and Samuel’s stomach began to rumble. His breakfast was becoming a distant memory; he thought he might be able to bear it for another hour or so, but as they travelled closer to the village, Tamara started to become irritated by Samuel’s constant growling.
“We need to find you something to eat before that sound drives me nuts!” Tamara stated bluntly.
“That’s all well and good, my dear, so long as you can materialise food out of the aether,” answered Samuel, with just a hint of condescension in his voice.
Tamara did not know what the aether was, but it did not matter. “No, but I do know a nearby tree with some great fruit in it,” she replied.
Samuel found this strange for two reasons. Firstly, he found it very difficult to believe there was a source of food in this forest that either he had not found, or Tamara had not told him about yet.
Secondly that, Tamara would know much about something she could not eat. Tamara was strictly carnivorous; she ate nothing but meat.
He wanted answers fast and asked: “So why haven’t you told me about this before?”
“Because I can’t stand the smell, that’s why, and I didn’t want you stinking up the place,” she explained.
“If it smells disgusting, what makes you think I will eat it?” he asked.
“Because the Boreray can’t get enough of it, some of them say that they taste like all the best parts of every fruit and vegetable we grow, which is a shame because they smell like all the worst,” she added.
He asked no more questions. He was too busy thinking; this fruit sounded so familiar, but he could not remember. The need to survive day in day out had pushed most of his standard learning, from school and university to the back of his mind, not forgotten mind you just buried.
I'm back with Tamara and Samuel latest adventure. If you like what you've read so far and want to know where it's going you can find the complete story by following the links below.
e-book(US/UK/CA/AU/DE)
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If you do decide to read ahead please leave a review or rating, every single one helps immensely, and helps me keep doing what I'm doing.
Also the e-book will be at a reduced price until the last chapter it published on reddit.

Sorry for the long read, skip to last paragraph if TLTR. I guess this is more a rhetorical rant, but could just use someone to listen and breakup advice.
My boyfriend (29M) and I (26F) just broke up after 6 years. We have been best friends since day 1 and have been proud that our relationship has been based off of a very strong bond built on support, patience, the same humor with an uncountable amount of inside jokes, and at the risk of sounding cringingly corny… pure love and respect. When I met him, I just knew he was it. He was kind, funny, dorky, and gave me butterflies long after the honeymoon phase. When we first moved in together people said “careful, moving can put stress on a relationship.” Not a single fight. We crushed it in one day. He had to move a heavy couch in knee deep snow and didn’t complain once. Our first roadtrip people said “careful, roadtrips can cause tension.” Again, not a single hiccup. Best 2 weeks of our life that we planned to a T and not a single negative thing happened - except too much sun causing some uncomfortable burns and some snippiness that didn’t escalate. Gentle aloe massages and a nap in the AC’d hotel room fixed it. We met early 20s so did a lot of growing together, even a little bit where we grew apart, but pushed through the other side stronger… or so I thought. This past year I started working at a new job and going to school for Nursing. Then his mom died very unexpectedly and honestly horribly. We stayed supportive of each other, went to individual therapy, we kept working. I knew he was holding it together too well and I told him “you’ll be fine until you won’t be.” After she died he barely got any time off work and I could see it wearing on him, but I still feel like everything I was doing for him and taking care of stuff at home and focusing on my own stuff just wasn’t enough. We were fine for the 2 months after his mom passed. Then 2 weeks ago we had a small argument that blew the fuck up. I don’t snap when I’m mad, I shut down until I can calm down, process what I’m feeling and properly articulate it. He said so much stuff he couldn’t take back. He told me that I needed therapy when I’ve been consistently going (he went to 2 sessions then quit), I’m properly medicated, I eat properly, I exercise, I’ve made an effort with friends, I’m working towards my goals… and he hasn’t made any effort with anything which I never blamed him for because HIS MOTHER DIED. Point being I’ve done what I could to better myself. And I knew he was struggling so I did what I could to let him grieve on his own time. But he just decided to treat me like his door mat. He told me he hasn’t been happy with me for a year (first time hearing about this even though I’d try and ask him what I could do to better support him or do to better our relationship or be a better partner for him and he’d always say nothing I’m good). He said he loves me but isn’t IN love with me anymore. He has done this in the past where I feel like we are good then suddenly he hates me or isn’t happy with me and what not. But I just can’t do this anymore. If he doesn’t want to communicate or work through it after 6 years together, then there is nothing I can do.
What is wrong with me though? I don’t know what I could have done any differently. Why am I not good enough? Why wasn’t the 6 wonderful years together not deemed enough to work through stuff, to be open and tell me “hey it bugs when you do this”. To communicate. I’m at a loss. I’m crushed. And I just want to be alone. But I can already tell this is going to suck for a long time and probably affect how I’ll be in future relationships. How the fuck do I get over this? I genuinely thought he was the one.
Thanks if you actually took the time to read all of that. Even more if you reply.

Notes: This is more of a venting but I need advice post. Also a lot of story telling for background info.
TLDR; My friend/crush hasn't responded to my texts for 2 weeks after he said he missed me. He's been online but is leaving me on delivered. Everything has gone positively and perfect up until now. And I am nervous for the worst case scenario. What do I do?
I (20'sF) have been friends with this guy (20'sM) for 5 years. We have a lot in common. From religion to music to overall interests. We can agree on a lot. I had a huge crush on him when we went to school. But he had rejected me because he didn't want a relationship. In which he has stuck to for the 5 years I've known him. After school he joined the military and I'd hear from him once or twice every couple of months. Which was okay because it gave me time to relieve my crush on him. But overall he was the ideal guy, I find him highly attractive, super intelligent, and overall a great person.
I never truly got over the crush, but I just let it sit in the back of my head.
We both went on with our lives, I had my first boyfriend. But it never worked out. But last summer he came home and asked if I wanted to go out. So I was excited to agree to it. We spent all day together, just talking about random stuff and catching up on life. He asked me to hang out again the next day so we went to a movie. It all went fairly well, it just felt like we were reconnecting and we became stronger friends.
After he left I went on with my life as he went on with his. I had gone out on one date with a former classmate from high school. And it didn't work out because there wasn't a connection. But when November came around, my friend had text me and asked if he should come home. In fact, his reasoning of coming home was to see his family and because he had missed me.
We had only talked 2-3 times a month between him leaving and him coming home again.
He came home in December and he had text me to make plans. He wanted to go ice skating and so he took me for the first time. He had insisted on putting my skates for me because I was struggling. And he wanted to hold my hand so he could protect me from falling. After that we went to a mall and he bought me a candle (and one for himself). Then we went to a pho cafe and had lunch. I got to hear his fun stories from when he had pho as a kid. It was so fun just listening to him be excited about what he likes. Although he isn't a talkative guy, he's always been known to be really quiet and introverted.
Later after that, we went back to my house and spent some time talking. He found interest in my rings and asked about them. He was just sitting next to me and ASKED if he could kiss me. I have never really heard of someone asking first. But I am also inexperienced in kissing, so that explains it. We had kissed and then we went up to my room and cuddled. We just appreciated each other's presence, kissing, holding hands, laughing, playing with each other's hair, all of that.
A couple days later, I saw this car rolling up my street slowly while I was out walking my dog. It happened to be him and his parents. They knew about me and wanted to see where I lived. So I got to meet his parents. Later on, my friend would text me and ask various questions his parents had for me.
I invited him over a couple days before he left for his home. I made him dinner and we had a drink or two. After that we went to my room again to watch tv and cuddle. We basically did what we did the previous time and some other things. The next day, I was just hanging out at home and I heard a car door outside. It was my friend. He stopped by to say goodbye before he left to go home. He said bye, kissed me once more, and then got in his dad's vehicle and left.
When he got home we talked almost everyday with maybe a 3-4 day break in between talking. Which was a huge step. He'd complement me, say that he thought I was really sweet, he wished me happy birthday 4 times (yes, 4 times. He was also the first to say it), and things of that sort. I returned the complements and so on. He even joked about us getting married. Which was so sweet. We've talk about how we missed each other several times and how we can't wait to see each other again. Talked about when he'll come home and that I'd be one of the main reasons he'd come home. Everything is great. Although he didn't want a relationship until the future. Which is okay, because he has stuck to that for the years I've known him. But everything still went fairly smoothly. It feels like a fresh breath of air.
I would always ask him how he is doing. Or he'd just tell me about his day before I could even ask. If I was delayed in response, I'd always apologize and he'd say there was nothing to be sorry about. He'd constantly reassure me. Which is a great sign, friend-wise and potential-partner-wise. He is such a great guy personality wise, highly intelligent, very kind, likes to listen but is generally a quiet person, always tells the truth, has a good sense of humor, and so on. He's also always happy for me when I talk about something like a job offering or something big in my life. As I'm always happy for him when he has something exciting going on. We're always supporting each other and hoping that we're in the best shape.
All the way up until 2 weeks ago, everything went incredibly well. I have never had a guy actually treat me like this. I mean, things could still be well, but who knows.
He had texted me one morning like usual. So I responded when I was able to (maybe an hour later). And I haven't heard from him since. I get that life gets in the way or he may have to prioritize something differently. But it is unlike him to just drop out. I've occasionally noticed that he had been online. So why isn't he responding? I know well that he isn't seeing anyone. Since he sticks to his word. Plus his last words to me were: "I miss spending time with you" (we were talking about something he missed from back home and that he didn't know when he'll get to return). I texted him after not hearing from him for a week and still nothing. I am afraid he is ghosting me although I feel like he wouldn't do such thing. I just get scared of that from past experiences. So, maybe he is just busy? Maybe he has something high-priority going on? Maybe he is just being his introverted self and kinda keeping to himself? We are just friends for now so it shouldn't bother me too much. But I still get worried for him. (although when I mentioned a few years ago that I got worried for him, he had said that he hopes I didn't worry too much). I understand that it would be difficult for us to date and that maybe right now wouldn't be a good time to date since neither of us are in a position to date (we're both still trying to find a balanced routine, calm down, take care of ourselves, and navigate being adults lol. plus I am just starting in a professional workforce so I am trying to balance life with that too).
What do I do? Does anyone have a take or any advice on this?
Note: please do ask questions incase I come off in a wrong or weird way. thank you!!!

Knuckles the Echidna

"I am the last guardian of Angel Island. I will protect the Master Emerald. And I will do it alone if I have to."

To make a very long, complicated, and confusing story short, Knuckles the Echidna is the Guardian of the mythical Master Emerald and protector of the floating Angel Island (interchangeably called the Floating Island). He comes from a long line of Guardians, each serving as Guardian before him. Before his birth, his father, Locke, saw a dream he thought of as prophetic, and prepared his unborn baby with the power to handle his future responsibility...by blasting his egg with Chaos radiation, granting Knuckles his spiked fists and an aptitude for Chaos Energy manipulation.
Knuckles would go through many hardships throughout his life: His father's death, discovering his home then watching its destruction, and his endless fight against Dr. Eggman and the forces of the Dark Legion. Knuckles would even die and be brought back to life. However hard the going gets, though, Knuckles always manages to recover and hit harder. He's not just rougher than the rest of them; he's the best of them.

Section Key: I. Strength II. Speed/Agility III. Durability IV. Chaos Power V. Other VI. Hyper Knuckles VII. Chaos Knuckles Source Key: Knuckles' Chaotix - Chaotix Knuckles the Echidna - KtE# Sonic and Knuckles - S&K Sonic's Friendly Nemesis, Knuckles Miniseries - Nem# Sonic Quest - Quest# Sonic the Hedgehog (1993) - StH# Sonic the Hedgehog Free Comic Book Day - FCD# Sonic the Hedgehog Triple Trouble - Triple Sonic Super Special - Spe# Sonic Universe - SU# Sonic vs. Knuckles - SvK Super Sonic vs. Hyper Knuckles - SSvHK 

Feats are posted in chronological order. Hover over a feat to see its source.

For additional context on some feats, see a map of Angel Island here.

To see his feats during his time as the Enerjak, see here (Respect Thread by theusjshjdhdne)

I. Strength

Striking

• Breaks a fake Chaos Emerald.
• Breaks down a brick wall in one punch.
• Knocks out Fang with one punch.
• Destroys Metal Sonic in one blow when they’re both at a giant size.
• Brawls with Enerjak.
• Punches a hole in a giant machine.
• Brawls with Sonic until they’re both exhausted.
• Rams through a large metal robot.
• Breaks through an indeterminate amount of stone.
• Punches Sonic so hard Sally worries that Knuckles could have knocked Sonic’s head off.
• Shatters a few Egg Grapes.
• Punches Finivetus hard enough for him to bounce.
• Punches a sturdy trap wall hard enough to climb up it.
• Clashes fists against Finitevus hard enough to cause a shockwave.
• Punches the ground enough to crack it and create smoke.

Lifting/Grabbing

• While Perfect Chaos is flooding a city and Knuckles is in this water, he lifts a heavy generator that powers the entire city.
• Restrains an out-of-control Bunnie alongside Mighty and Vector.
• Catches a giant drill and prevents its rotation.
• Holds up rubble alongside Amy to prevent a cave-in.
• Snaps off an arm of the Egg Beater with Vector’s help.
• Grabs Finivetus by his cape and slams him into a wall hard enough to crack it.

Throwing

• Throws a dingo from one room to another to hit another dingo.
• Tosses Sonic above cloud level.
• Throws Thrash through a stone wall.

Other

• Anchors himself with his spikes during a tornado.
• Easily cuts a tree with ease.
• Powers through Thrash’s screams.

II. Speed/Agility

Combat/Evasion

• Evades falling boulders.
• Dodges a lot of traps completely unscathed including machine guns.
• Spins in a cyclone fast enough to throw a biker gang into the distance.
• Dodges a laser.
• Dodges a robot’s mace.
• Keeps up with Sonic going all-out pretty handily, at one point holding him down.
• Dodges multiple close-proximity lasers.
• Dodges Espio’s kunai in very close range.

Movement

• Speeds from near the outside of Angel Island to a distant mountain.
• Swims from the deepest point of the ocean floor to the surface before he loses oxygen, only not succeeding due to outside interference.
• Outruns a blast that quickly engulfs the Floating Island, only being hit when he reaches the end of the island. Out of everyone on the island, Knuckles is the only one able to outrun the blast and even reacts fast enough to throw a Dark Legion member into the blast before he starts actually running.
• Hops over a fence.
• Hops from one floating vehicle to another.

Gliding

• Can glide above the trees even in turbulent winds.
• For some reason his gliding works by using his dreadlocks???
• Okay, that isn't gliding, that's just flying, Knuckles.
• Can glide (fly) high enough to be significantly above Angel Island.

Other

• Swapped emeralds without Sonic and Eggman noticing.
• Able to keep balance on an Extreme Gear while grappling with Storm.

III. Durability

Blunt

• Struck by Sonic going at full speed.
• Bonked by Sonic hitting him with an entire tree.
• Hurt but able to handle being surprise attacked by Espio, Vector, and Mighty in succession.
• Tanks blows from Enerjak whose raw strength is stated to dwarf Knuckles’.
• Shot down by a giant laser.
• Takes a few blows from an alternate (Irish) version of himself.
• Hit by Sonic hard enough to create a hole in Castle Acorn.
• Launched into a wall by Thrash’s scream.
• Blasted repeatedly by Thrash’s screams, visibly no worse for wear.

Energy/Fire/Electricity

• Blasted by Enerjak.
• Gets the inside of his mouth burnt by Archimedes.
• Zapped by Enerjak.
• Hurt but generally fine after being splashed by lava.
• Tanks the edge of a blast that engulfed a large chunk of the Floating Island, still has enough energy to drag himself out of the ocean onto a piece of debris though he falls unconscious for twelve hours.
• Takes some hits from dingo goons armed with electric weapons.

Other

• Harmed but unfazed by getting drained by the energy siphon used on the Master Emerald that allows the Floating Island to stay, well, afloat.
• Seemingly unaffected by the pressure caused from being inside the very bottom of an ocean aside, more so worried about having no oxygen.
• Only worried about the cold while 30,000 meters above the already cloud level floating island.
• Is the first to regain consciousness after a crash.
• Crushed by a mechanical lobster.
• Gets caught in an avalanche, recovers quickly.

IV. Chaos Power

For a period during his conflicts with the Dark Legion, his latent Chaos power increased with time until an explosion would turn his skin green and properly transform him into Chaos Knuckles, losing his powers when he later died and revived. He didn't rekindle his powers until a conflict with Dr. Finivetus reawakened his latent abilities.
Knuckles usually doesn't use these abilities, but can break them out again when necessary.

Offensive

• Dismantles a machine on his neck then blasts Hunter into unconsciousness.
• Clashes with Finivetus hard enough to create a huge sphere of energy on Angel Island.

Non-Offensive

• Passively regenerates from a splash of lava.
• Creates a portal from Mobius’ surface to Angel Island.
• Flies with his eyes closed and “sees” his surroundings with help from the Guiding Star Gem.
• Either doesn’t register on an infrared sensor or genuinely has no body heat.
• Throws a few Chaos Spears.

Energy Generation

• Called a living Chaos Emerald as he projects a message to a fellow Guardian in an entirely different Zone; later corroborated by an examination performed by the Dark Legion.
• Generates enough natural power to overload a power system that winds up blowing up a complex and is implied to radiate enough energy after 15 minutes to be akin to nuclear fallout.

V. Other

• Can tell where Espio is even when he’s invisible.
• Carries a laser gun that destroys a door he cannot with brawn.
• Has the worst family tree.
• Called in by Sally to fight Sonic all-out on his level while Sonic is mind-controlled, Knuckles appearing right after Sonic wipes the floor with both the Freedom Fighters and Chaotix.
• Holds the Guiding Star, an artifact that creates a magical transport back to Angel Island from any place.
• Holds a Warp Ring which allows him to teleport to any location he sets his mind to.
• Resists Finivetus’ hypnotization.

VI. Hyper Knuckles

Also referred to as Super Knuckles, this form occurs when Knuckles absorbs sufficient Chaos Energy from the Chaos Emeralds, the Master Emerald, or a similarly potent source. With the power, he has the ability to take on powerful foes like Super Sonic and Master Mogul.

Strength

• Described as “a thousand times stronger” than usual.
• Tears apart reality fighting Super Sonic, destroying the Zone they fight in.
• Alongside Super Sonic, punches Master Mogul through buildings.
• Breaks the top of a mountain then throws Hunter across Angel Island.

Speed

• Keeps up with Super Sonic.
• Described as moving at “incalculable speeds”.

Durability

• Takes hits from Super Sonic.
• Tanks the Zone-busting clash between himself and Super Sonic but reverts back to normal.
• Completely ignores Chaos energy that was hurting him at base form.

Chaos Power

• Unleashes a surge of power that ends the war between the echidnas and dingoes.

VII. Chaos Knuckles

Due to Knuckles' father microwaving the baby imbuing Knuckles' egg with Chaos radiation, Knuckles' own Chaos energy grew until achieving the god-like Chaos Knuckles form, becoming closer to a living Chaos Emerald than an echidna. During his time as Chaos Knuckles, he was one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse if not the strongest outright, or at least stronger than Turbo Tails and Dimitri as the Enerjak. However, his grasp of his powers was questionable at best and uncontrollable at worst, which would eventually lead to his demise.

Strength

• Bops Tails on the head.
• Beats Turbo Tails unconscious in a short fight.

Speed

• Unleashes a blast of energy before Tails can react, though he wasn’t in control of his actions.
• Keeps up with Turbo Tails.

Durability

• Stands undamaged in an epicenter of an explosion that knocked out multiple people including a Roboticized Mobian.
• Endures being siphoned of his energy until Charmy and Saffron free him.
• Surprise attacked by Turbo Tails.
• Tanks blows from Turbo Tails.
• Makes the scenario of Angel Island crashing and/or blowing up from Chaos energy nonlethal by taking the brunt of it himself; also a Chaos Power feat.
• Undamaged from a shot to the head that would have killed base Knuckles.

Chaos Power

Offensive

• Paralyzes a Roboticized Mobian.
• A shout throws around everybody surrounding him and teleports them to various places across the world.
• Unleashes a “tidal wave” of energy.
• An energy blast goes straight through Angel Island with the debris knocking out Tails.
• An optic laser harms Turbo Tails.
• Shoots down a meteor that would have destroyed the city of Echidnaopolis.
• [Limit] Blows himself up and dies saving Dimitri and destroying Mogul’s Chaos Siphon, ascending to a higher plane of existence in the Chaos Force (temporarily).

Non-Offensive

• Warps through time and space on accident; later does so on purpose.
• Teleports through time and space to Dimitri’s ship which moves at Mach 5.
• Detects the death of two echidna who crashed into the ship he is on.
• Read someone’s mind, though at the time he wasn’t sure how to do so consciously.
• Sends a telepathic message and projection of himself to his father across the Floating Island.
• Stops his heart to play dead.
• Heals somebody from critical condition.

Reality Warping

• Unconsciously warps reality on a fundamental scale, changing reality to different versions of itself: First to one resembling the OVA, then a reality without the Dark Legion, then a reality resembling SatAM, then to a reality where Sally is dead, finally to reality as it once was. Notably, both Sonic and Sally had full awareness of the changes during the changes, and everyone else had full awareness only after the fact.
• [Limit] Can’t stop events that would be inevitable through multiple methods such as Echidnaopolis’ destruction or the failure of Dimitri’s plan in the past.
• Manipulates time on an island-wide level to restore Angel Island to its original state before its inhabitants were teleported to another Zone.
• Creates flowers.
• Ejects himself from the Chaos Force and revives himself, but loses access to his powers.
• In one version of the future, warps the entirety of Mobius to his whim.

Characters Used for Scaling (all pre-Super Genesis Wave):

• Dimitri the Echidna.
• Dr. Finitevus.
• Egg Beater, Respect Thread by Proletlariet.
• Enerjak (as Dimitri), Respect Thread by theusjshjdhdne.
• Espio the Chameleon.
• Metal Sonic.
• Mighty the Armadillo, Respect Thread by theusjshjdhdne.
• Sonic the Hedgehog, Respect Thread by 76SUP and Joshless.
• Thrash the Tasmanian Devil.
• Vector the Crocodile.
• Tails the Fox.

OC
In the far future, mankind is surrounded by neighbours that rule over their citizens with an iron first and no regard for their happiness, either in the name of a select few families with noble blood, absolute monarchs or tyrants that claim to serve the interests of their nations while their actions suggest otherwise.
It is a sickening thought and certain individuals would not stand for this. Many species were flabbergasted when they learned so many humans were willing to meddle in the affairs of their neighbours, even more were shocked to learn that these endeavours were not funded by any human government for the sake of destabilising potential rivals.
It was a voluntary effort.
[----------------------------------------]
If Mesch could describe the current microcycle, she’d call it tiring, soul-crushing even, she had no choice but to overwork herself to pay off her debt to the state. After the brother of her father was falsely charged with high treason and shipped off, all of her immediate family-including her-was charged the appropriate price for being the acquaintance of a dissident. The dread residing in her heart only grew stronger as she made her way back to her meager apartment-dwelling, the thought of the massive debt and the cost of living only served to wear her mind down.
“Hello miss, did you know you have rights?” Mesch’s ears perked up at the sudden barrage of noise directed at her, turning to look at the source, she found a strange, seemingly furless biped looking at her. She exhaled from her snout, as if she didn’t have anything better to do…she had recently gotten off her twelfth consecutive overtime shift and the last thing the drowsy nersk needed was a speech about- “You actually do and since I’m here, I’m willing to tell you all about it” The biped was holding plenty of pamphlets in its first appendage and a clipboard in the second. Whatever it wanted to tell her must have been important enough to stand in the same spot for an indefinite amount of time, Mesch decided to humour the strange alien, stopping in her tracks and focusing exclusively on the being in front of her.
"Enlighten me then, what rights do I have?” She came to the conclusion that the alien ignored the sarcasm in her response, seeing that it was thick enough to pierce. She had nothing to her name besides the clothes on her person and what little she had in her apartment-dwelling. The alien handed her a pamphlet, why not? She had come this far, may as well go the whole way. It was written fluently in the language of her people and the information it divulged immediately drew her attention.
-The average Nerski adult works an average of ten human hours for six human days every human week with for the same criminally low wages. This is twenty nerski mini-cycles every twelve nerski micro-cycles every nerski mega-cycle. That is humiliating, grating and unacceptable. Besides being deprived of overtime rates, the average nerski adult is robbed of their sense of safety in their own dwelling, the nerski authorities need no one’s written permission to invade and sack someone’s dwelling for evidence of a crime, perceived or not. The average nerski citizen has no say in who governs them or the measures they may enact at any given moment. The average nersk is not free. But you can be, if you ask the nearest F.F.F advocate for more information. Freedom Forever Foundation-
Something just did not sit well with her about this, was she supposed to work less? Was she supposed to be paid more for the unskilled labour she provided? Was she being taken advantage of? The intrusive thoughts did not let her already weary mind rest, for she had a myriad of questions that urgently needed answering. “I…I want to know more” Mesch did not bother masking the tone of her voice, it sounded equally tired and pleading, desperate for answers to the questions that only kept appearing with each passing second.
The face of the alien brightened by a considerable amount, quickly withdrawing something from the bag on their back. In that span of seconds that felt like a lifetime she remembered the race the odd sentient in front of her belonged to, humans. Not new to FTL technology by any means, but still treated like children in many political-and social-circles thanks to being the newest addition to the Neutral Cooperation Concord. “Glad your rights concern you…this is the information kit, spread the word” A beige folder was handed to her, it was almost as thick as her arm, the scandalous information…the pull it had on her, it was hellish! The promise of relief almost made her knees buckle under the pressure of her need to know.
“One more thing…can I have your signature? I will sooner burn the page than let it fall in the hands of nerski authorities…you have my word” She didn’t need to be pressured to sign and she did so eagerly, carefully hiding the illicit materials within her clothes with shaky hands. ‘Thank-” The human did not get to thank her in time, noticing a single file line of nerski plain clothes enforcers closing in on them, picking up speed when he started backing away. “Unfortunately this is where we part ways…now go!” The last glimpse of the human she caught was him getting swarmed by the enforcers “Liberty fears no tyrant! FREEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” Mesch’s attempts at leading the human away had failed, tears threatened to spill out of the corners of her eyes the longer she ran yet she had no other choice. If only she could see him again…
Almost an entire megacycle latehuman month later…
Mesch was returning from work, this time she failed to evade the treacherous weather, opting to withstand it and head back home through the camped alleyways leading to that fabled square she had met the human at. She sighed, stopping for a bit and sitting down, squeezing her long ears to get what little water had gathered in there out again. That was when a familiar voice caressed her ears once more. “Hello miss, did you know you have rights?” Her head spun around a little too quicker than she liked, causing some pain to her neck but ultimately ignoring it in favour of finding the source of that blessed voice.
“Of course you do, you’re the first one!” The same human from before sat next to her, shielding her from most of the raindrops thanks to his larger size. “Also I’m now considered a political dissident and there’s an active warrant out for my detainment but that’s not the important thing here! It is this…” The same clipboard came into her view, this time filled with plenty more signatures and from the looks of things there were more pages under the one on top, all filled to the brim with signatures as well. “Whoever has it out for me sure doesn’t like it when people think on their own”
Mesch…was stunned, she had convinced herself the human would never see the light of day again and yet here he was, staring at her with that same smile, the same smile with the same, if not larger, amount of defiant spirit brewing behind it. “How did you?...”
"I am a vessel for liberty, as long as it exists somewhere, I will not be stopped” The human stood up and offered her his hand, she accepted it and after getting pulled up on her feet he showed her another pamphlet, this time it talked about a protest right outside the presidential palace, it was suicidal to say the least…which was why Mesch thought she had finally flown off the handle when she accepted without second-guessing herself.
“So…there are more like me?” Hope filled her heart, it was good, way too good to be true. “Not just more…way, wayyy more! Now come, I will get us there with the Liberty mobile!” She soon found herself strapped inside a vehicle of signature human design, heading straight to the presidential palace, her stomach flipping at the mere sight of the crowd gathered at the meeting point. Chanting slogans, phrases, speeches that at any other point in time she would have rejected as crazy and meant to destabilise the nation her people had built over many lifetimes. They got out and marched with the rest of the assembled nersk until they hit a chokepoint, lines upon lines of enforcers ready to meet them halfway , they were not scared or intimidated, they were ready.
Before long, either due to their own initiative or an order from a higher up, the enforcers were set loose on the crowd. Bashing, bruisng and shooting with electrically-charged pellets, trying their damnest to scare the crowd away. Mesch was scared but she would not flee, for the life she lived before this grand event was nothing more than celebrated slavery. Enforcers descended on her and the human, she was badly beaten but before any serious harm could befall her the human shielded her and proceeded to drive back the enforcers hellbent on killing her without even fighting back , the only weapon in his name was his own body and he did not use it as a weapon, only a a shield.
A few moments before she fainted from the overwhelming pain, she could hear the battle cry she had heard only once before and a sense of comfort, a painful but satisfying end to her life of misery.
This would have been the case if she hadn’t woken an indeterminate amount of time later in a hospital, with none other than the same human sitting besides her, watching her. “Slept well? You deserve it after all these bruises” It was painful to move and for the second time, she ignored it. Twisting just enough to be able to hug the human. “Thank you for everything” The human hugged her back, comforting her with the warmth only his words had provided so far. “You shouldn’t thank me, I was doing my moral duty…there is someone else you should be embracing right now” Behind the human stood another nersk, it was uncle Vinow, the same uncle that had gotten dragged off by the secret police. Tears of happiness overwhelmed her and she soon hugged both of them.
“Some sympathetic soul leaked the coordinates to several blacksites holding political prisoners and from the looks of things this isn’t the last act of defiance we’re going to be hearing about, while you were unconscious I was ferrying as many prisoners back and forth to the capital….Congratulations Mersch, your people have embraced freedom. Enjoy it, your blood, sweat and tears have finally paid off”
[-----------------------------]
[My HFY-themed discord server](http:// https://discord.gg/KQeBuv88EB)

I (29F NT) am extremely neurotypical and emotionally/mentally/financially stable. I’ve been struggling with my fiancé (31M dx rx) for a long time, and could really use some tailored words of wisdom. Lurking this subreddit/community has been so incredibly validating and helpful as I navigate this overwhelming journey… 2 years into our relationship and I feel like I’m at my breaking point. I doubt whether he’s capable of changing fast enough, I’m not sure I want this for my life anymore. Things will only get harder as we age and kids are thrown in the mix…
The past year has been soul-crushing, I’m a shell of the person I used to be. I’ve self-isolated from friends, had depressive episodes (never had that before), gained an excessive amount of weight, am frequently paranoid and anxious (never had anxiety before). I just never have long-lasting peace, it has destroyed my mental health. Before all this, I was eager to get engaged/married while he was nervous and wanted to take it slow. Now things have flip-flopped: he proposed far earlier than I thought he would, and I’m hitting the breaks uncertain of our future when I’m supposed to be planning a wedding (I refuse to until I see long-term/consistent improvement from him).
I can say that thankfully, my fiancé is not on the extreme end of ADHD. He doesn’t struggle holding a job, he isn’t a slob, he doesn’t shut down sexually, etc. He was diagnosed with ADD (so inattentive ADHD) when he was 18, and has been taking Adderall since. He does not take as much as he is prescribed, which I’ve questioned and he brushed off. We have gotten into heated, and ridiculous, arguments since early-on in our relationship.
Fall last year I unintentionally stumbled upon the emotional dysregulation aspect of ADHD. I was watching reels on Facebook, and in one a woman started by saying “If your partner has ADHD, watch this.” I continued watching, and 5-10 seconds later she mentioned in passing how they have problems with emotional regulation. I was immediately floored and replayed the video to make sure I heard it correctly. I Googled it and, low and behold: there was article after article about this. I read bullet point after bullet point of the manifestations of ADHD, and I couldn’t believe how it described exactly what I had been dealing with for nearly a year and a half.
My entire life I thought ADHD just meant someone had more difficulty focusing or they were hyperactive. This is what most of [uninformed] society thinks, and also what my fiancé himself thought. Over a 12+ year period since being diagnosed, not a single doctor or psychiatrist ever once mentioned the emotional dysregulation aspect of ADHD to my fiancé. He had no idea! Previously, I had chalked up our problems to political differences and that for his entire 20s he was always around (and dated) people very different from me. So I thought he just had trouble adjusting away from judgmental worldviews he had adopted while being surrounded by like-minded people for so long.
The discovery of emotional dysregulation and RSD was ground-breaking for us. He had been starting to think I was the problem since he “didn’t have these problems in my previous relationships.” Well that’s because he always dated less-mentally-stable people (his most recent girlfriend was diagnosed bipolar), so by comparison he was always the more stable one in the relationship and the magnifying glass was pointed away from him. Making the link between our problems and his ADHD made it tangible in a way that he could understand, which provided a foundation for his growth and improvements to begin (alongside therapy). But it’s very difficult for a 30+ year old man with a brain disorder to unlearn bad habits he was fully unaware of & learn how to retrain his brain to process information in a healthy way…
My fiancé has externalized RSD - he becomes highly reactive and verbally aggressive. He is hypersensitive, his brain distorts reality and interprets innocuous questions/statements like “did you put water in the soap dispenser” or “that’s a lot of cereal” as personal attacks. He also has a very big problem not respecting certain differences in opinion we have, or not respecting my choice to not eat/do certain things - he will push and push and push and push, will not stop pushing even after I calmly & nicely asked him to stop dozens of times after dozens of arguments, will not stop even after I’m sobbing begging him to please stop with tears streaming down my face. What are these explosive arguments about? The most mundane, inconsequential things. I wish this was made-up: HOV lanes, me not wanting to eat salad, me not wanting to eat warm guac, me not wanting to eat mustard, me not wanting to try Adderall or coke, me having a different view/opinion on how we should heat up a frozen pizza, me not wanting to eat mushrooms because they make me sick, etc etc.
Every single time we have an explosive argument, he pushes and pushes and pushes. When I reiterate, for the 100th time, that I have autonomy over my own body and don’t need to do anything I don’t want to do, he tries to manipulate me by flipping the script and parroting words/phrases I’ve used in previous discussions (like saying I’m being “disrespectful” and “dismissive” of his feelings/opinions because I won’t do what he wants me to do). Only once he calms down does he realize how badly he effed-up, profusely apologizes, and promises to never do it again and that he’s capable of being better… But then he just does it again and again and again and again and again and AGAIN.
He tries to play the victim and come off as reasonable by saying that he’s just “trying to understand” me by asking questions. I told him that is a cop-out because after I’ve explained how I feel, he ignores it since it doesn’t make sense to him & doesn’t line up with what he thinks/believes, and instead he continues pushing/pressuring me.
More recently he also claims that he isn’t trying to pressure me to do anything TO MYSELF, he’s just sharing his own experiences and thoughts with me so I can understand him better. When you repetitively “share your experiences/thoughts” on XYZ after I made it clear dozens of times that I don’t want to do XYZ and to please stop pressuring me to, even if you don’t explicitly state “You should try XYZ,” you are still INDIRECTLY pushing/pressuring me.
I. am. SO TIRED. Resentment has been growing, I’m paranoid and anxious, I don’t trust him (because he has repeatedly lied to me), his substance use (alcohol and weed) has become less and less attractive. He claimed a long time ago that I’m obsessed with being right, but he’s just projecting - he’s the one obsessed with “being right.” While he loves how I do all the paperwork-related “adult” part of life, he gets really annoyed that I’m almost always ‘right’ about things while he is not - so he takes it out on me.
Things have gotten to the point of reactive abuse, which I warned him about a few months into our relationship (at the time I didn’t know the term, just the concept). I’m having such a hard time making my mind up on where to go from here. When things are good, they are so good. He is a genuine person and a good man, we have SO much love for each other. We share many laughs and have built a life together. But… his brain is plagued with a disorder (that he was not fully informed on & did not begin attempting to manage until 6 months ago) that breaks me down.
While he has improved since the ADHD link was discovered and he started therapy, he continues slipping up and defaulting back to his regular BS. I don’t think I can take it anymore. I don’t want to waste more years of my life, or end up trapped in a marriage because of kids… I’m afraid that’s what it will come to, and I’ll be forever mad at myself for sticking around despite the red flags and what I knew about his condition.
BUT… What if it’s possible for him to improve and stop hurting me? Maybe he needs different medication? Maybe there are other communication approaches we can try? Maybe there’s a better kind of ADHD-specific therapy out there (I don’t think his/our current therapist is helping much)?
I know that he has a long way to go, and that I need to focus on healing. What are methods that have worked for you? Is there a better way I can go about looking for a therapist that specializes in adult ADHD & who truly understands it and can help? My fiancé acknowledges and understands that he has a problem, I can see that he is genuinely trying to improve - he wants to be a better person for himself and also be the partner I deserve. He is struggling to make it happen, he wants it SO badly - he doesn’t want to lose me or the life we have together. I just don’t know how much more of this I can take… Please, any advice & support would be greatly appreciated. Thank you so much for taking the time to read.

You can answer just the title or continue down to my personal situation.
I'm a hot mess basically. I like men and women but I only find women sexually/phyiscally appealing. Men, I like romantically and for my life partner. I just don't experience physical attraction.
I've always wanted kids and a family and I need a husband to have those things. I just feel lost because I don't have the right feelings like other girls. I don't find men good looking nor do I have a sexual interest. I feel love but not the typical kind. I feel like I'll never have a relationship. There's a guy I like but I'm scared if he found out I like girls too he will want nothing to do with me. My feeling towards him is stronger than best friends but I just don't find any physical interest. But I like having him to myself and I could honestly see myself happy being his wife. I care greatly. Hey, the pro to me is I won't leave him for another man haha because I don't have the feelings needed to cheat.
I also wonder, hypothetically, if I were to have a bf, is this something I should disclose? I've always believed in communication and openness. Especially since with said guy friend, I've had crushes on our mutual female friends. Girls just make my heart flutter in a special way. But I know it isn't what I want for my life. But I also wonder if it's a bad thing to share.
Edit: I'm also in my 20s so still young bit out of the phase where it's a social media influence or just hormonal confusion. It's just my cross to carry I guess. I'm sure God has a plan so I just gotta keep on keeping on.
Also, I'm really sorry so many people think cheating is easy for everyone. I despise cheating. I have a very strict sense of duty and self control. Shoot, I put myself in time out as a kid automatically if I made mistakes. If I thought for a second I was capable of cheating, I wouldn't marry.
Edit 2: probably won't respond much anymore. If I do, it'll probably just be a thanks. I've gotten lots and honestly some of the ruder comments are starting to get to me. Been a real vibe killer. So I'm just trying to distance myself frustration and negative emotions.

I am a 27f currently working at a hospital. Before starting this job, I was remote for 3 years. I took this job to further my education and prepare for a PHD program, also to make connections with doctors is def a bonus. I'm about 3 months in and I unfortunately have gotten written up for being late 3 days in a row. I know this may seem very small, but I am extremely embarrassed by this. So much so that the entire rest of the day I've felt like hiding. When I started I had issues adjusting to coming into the office (i.e., traffic, parking and walking to office), it also wasnt super helpful that I didnt have a set schedule. My day is determinant on patients and their appointments, sometimes they get delayed, cancelled or are brought in early. So I had talked with my supervisor and she gave me a window to be in by (7-9). Of course right after we established that I had a lot of life things happen (most of which were out of my control) which caused me to be late (nothing crazy though, like 15 min late). When I talked with her today I could immediately feel my anxiety rear up as soon as she told me about the write up and that it was the doctors that had brought up the tardiness. The anxiety was only furthered when she emailed the letter for me to sign and return to my boss. I didn't say much about my tardiness, because honestly there isnt much of an excuse other than life happens. And I feel so helpless and frustrated because the things that made me late was out of my control and I was raised with the work ethic of "no one cares about your personal life and what problems you have, everyone does".
Like I said, I know this is something so small and easily fixable. I feel nothing but motivation to redeem myself but I can't help but feel so embarrassed because I know I'm capable of doing this. Any advice on or validation would make me feel better about this situation : , )
P.S. Slight note, I do take sertraline for my depression and anxiety. I also take adderall XR during the work week which can fuel my anxiety to a point of a panic attack (if its that big of a situation). My doctor and therapist are aware of this and I'm currently working with both of them on how to keep myself stable when I'm in these types of situations.