Hey there! I am a PhD researcher in music. For my PhD research, I intended to conduct interviews with queer musicians who work within the genres of Deconstructed Clubs, Hyperpop, and attendant sub-genres. Since this is one of the groups that have the most experimental music sharing, I thought of posting here, and to ask whether they would be interested to take part in the project. Of course I will send you relevant consent and information sheets. Your contribution could be of great help. Thanks!

Hey there! I am a PhD researcher in music. For my PhD research, I intended to conduct interviews with queer musicians who work within the genres of Deconstructed Clubs, Hyperpop, and attendant sub-genres. Since this is one of the groups that have the most experimental music sharing, I thought of posting here, and to ask whether they would be interested to take part in the project. Of course I will send you relevant consent and information sheets. Your contribution could be of great help. Thanks!

Hey there! I am a PhD researcher in music. For my PhD research, I intended to conduct interviews with queer musicians who work within the genres of Deconstructed Clubs, Hyperpop, and attendant sub-genres. Since this is one of the groups that have the most experimental music sharing, I thought of posting here, and to ask whether they would be interested to take part in the project. Of course I will send you relevant consent and information sheets. Your contribution could be of great help. Thanks!

Hey there! I am a PhD researcher in music. For my PhD research, I intended to conduct interviews with queer musicians who work within the genres of Deconstructed Clubs, Hyperpop, and attendant sub-genres. Since this is one of the groups that have the most experimental music sharing, I thought of posting here, and to ask whether they would be interested to take part in the project. Of course I will send you relevant consent and information sheets. Your contribution could be of great help. Thanks!

Hey guys! I listen to a lot of rock/metal and I’ve really gotten interested in learning electric guitar, but I’m not close to any guitar players so I’d be learning solo (I’m open to classes but I’m a full-time college student that works in the summer). I have a background as a percussionist from middle and high school so I know some music theory and can pretty confidently read sheet music. I’ve been doing my own research on what I need to start and I found 3 different kits. I don’t really know what the best option would be though, or if it’d be better to buy each piece separately. I’ve attached pictures of the three brands: Epiphone, Squier, and Yamaha. Also, I would like to play acoustic at some point too and I’m wondering if it’s better to learn on acoustic or if it’s okay to start with electric guitar. Any tips are greatly appreciated🙏

Hello! I’m currently 16, and ever since I was 11, making a shrine/altar for a god or goddess has been on my mind ever since, I just never acted upon it. My friend, who has a shrine for Artemis, and has been doing this for years, told me there isn’t really no right or wrong way to make a shrine/altar because it’s based on your vibes and feelings (if I can remember). I want to make a shrine to Apollo/Apollon because he seems very relatable to me as a person, considering I’ve been betrayed in my life before many of times, and he was betrayed too (with the whole flying too close to the sun thing) so I began to plan on how to make my shrine/altar. I planned on getting a box, yellow crystals, a journal, and a yellow topaz bracelet, here’s why. Offering plates are expensive and I don’t want my parents to get suspicious.. so I decided on a box, like a trinket box or something like that! Yellow reminds me of the sun so I plan on buying yellow crystals, as well as a journal to write down anything I may want to ask him. I also want to buy a yellow topaz bracelet to wear since it reminds me of Apollo, and I have a strange feeling that if I were to wear it, then he’d be by my side all the time. I then plan on printing out pictures of him and harp sheet music (using my schools color printer even though I do have a chance for getting in trouble for printing stuff out on the printer that’s school related but I’ve done it before so I don’t really care..) I then plan on making the shrine on my shelf hanging up on the wall, I also plan on buying each item but not all at once so I don’t raise suspicion and because buying all of the items at once may be a tad bit expensive.. I’m just telling you all because I want you all to hear my thoughts, and I’m open to hearing yours! :)

Storytime (Why retake the GRE?)

I took the GRE in October 2020 at home, the old one for MS admissions, but did not end up using it for any applications. My old score for the old GRE was 323 (162V, 89th percentile; 161Q, 65th percentile) and writing was 6. I ended up getting into a decent program in applied mathematics, and needed to retake it for competitive PhD programs in biostatistics/statistics and bioinformatics for the Fall 2025 cycle. I was aiming for perfect quant and somewhat improved verbal. I am working full time doing research and writing papers and programming lots and lots, it was really challenging to prepare, but I had lots of preparation time on my side---roughly two months.

Mock Scores (Markov property)

I double majored in pure mathematics and statistics from a top public school in SoCal, but I get incredibly anxious when taking these sorts of time constrained tests, so my quant was generally not perfect at all and all over the place:

1. Two days ago I took my first mock in the morning timed and got 159V, 160Q (powerprep 2, free)
2. The same day, later in the evening, I took another mock and got 159V, 168Q (powerprep+ 2, $40)
3. The next day, I took another mock in the evening and got 161V, 164Q (powerprep+ 3, $40).

So my quant performance was all over the place. Most of the time I would literally SELECT THE WRONG ANSWER and not fully read the damn question out of anxiety.

Game day (and the day before)

I didn't get very good sleep (only slept 5hrs because I ate really late and was super worried). I made a nootropic shake concoction and had some other supplements 30-40 minutes before I started the actual exam, which helped with my sleep deficit (vegan protein, matcha powder, creatine, l-theanine shake; vitamin B complex, CoQ-10, vitamin D extra strength; and a banana). I think diet the night before is actually super important and I did heavy carb and creatine loading: finished four servings of gnocchi; 1.1lbs ribeye steak; one avocado and one salmon filet. And up until the test day, I made sure to be physically active and stuck to my workout schedule to make sure that I have the best possible VO2 max on test day. This included doing zone 2-4 cardio weekly for at least 90 minutes per week. I see lots of people give up their workout schedule, but I think that's actually detrimental.
Beyond hacking my physiology, I took my test at a test center. I think that was a big deal because the test center was super quiet and there were no distractions at all. Driving there took me 40 minutes, so I was also able to settle down emotionally and just meditate about doing well while getting there. I listened to music as well which got me in a good mood.
I had completely forgotten that we get an unofficial score as soon we finish, so I was incredibly SHOCKED at how I did. I think if I had known I get the score immediately (unofficial) I would've done worse.

Other notes (resources I liked)

GREGMAT GUY... Danke Schoen. I used mostly gregmat strategies for all my preparation.

1. I used prepswift and made a cheat sheet from prepswift concepts for verbal, quant and writing. Making the cheat sheet was really helpful.
2. In particular, I focused on a lot of the strategy guides for the verbal and quant prepswift sections.
3. I did Manhattan 5lbs first, ALL problems EXCEPT the word problem ones since those ones were too wordy for no reason compared to actual ETS problems.
4. I did no foundations for quant until after I sampled my baseline performance on the Manhattan 5lb problems. Then I revised with prepswift and the official ETS material.
5. The official ETS quant and general GRE books are really good for practice as well. These are the real indicator of test performance since the Manhattan book problems are actually a lot more challenging.
6. I had very little verbal practice. I read and write everyday, so I just wanted to hit high 80s percentile for verbal. I did practice the vocab though (gregmat vocab mountain AND Magoosh GRE vocab).
7. For people with high anxiety: for the quant, just remember to recognize patterns, read the problem, stick to your foundations, plug and chug, and breathe. Everytime I started the quant section, I used the remaining time from the verbal to write that preceding sequence out so that I was using metacognition and prevent myself from panicking.

Sheet Music: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Sk9X_Ax9AxfRy8BHdh11wqe2AADyRZpg/view?usp=sharing
Video: https://youtu.be/rmC1g1yXrrw
Previous etude: https://www.reddit.com/composecomments/1c0qo5a/harmonic_etude_1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
This piece is the second in a set that explores partimento techniques applied on the decatonic major scale. This scale is derived from a chain of 10 fifths in the 22 equal temperament, though for simplicity it’s rendered in good old 12 tet. The decatonic scale opens new melodic and harmonic possibilities in the realm of the 7-limit while remaining tonal and allowing for the borrowing of concepts from jazz or impressionistic music. In this piece, I decided to feature a harmonic procedure known as monte, consisting of rising alternating fifths and sixths, when falling a fauxbourdon with 7-b7 suspensions. Last but not least, this piece is for electric piano. Any and all criticism, advice, or feedback is welcome. Enjoy!!

Welcome back to Advent's Amazing Advice! The series where I take popular One-Shots, Adventures, Campaigns, etc. and fully prep them for both New and Busy DMs. This prep includes fully fleshed-out notes, music, ambiance, encounter sheets, handouts, battle maps, tweaks, and more so you can run the best sessions possible with the least stress possible!
Dragons of Stormwreck Isle, is a level 1-3 Adventure, the most recent Starter Set, and successor to The Lost Mine of Phandelver released by WoTC. In it, your players will sail to Stormwreck Isle, an island shaped by an age of conflict between Chromatic and Metallic Dragons. They'll be able to befriend kobolds, explore fungal grottos, fight those twisted by Orcus, and perhaps save the very island itself!
Have your players create their own characters or jump right in using the Pre-Gens that are built with backstories integrated into the plot!
If you've used my previous notes, you'll know that I take Adventures such as these and do all the difficult and time-consuming book-to-session conversions, so you don't have to! I do my best to include Ambiance for every scene, custom battle maps, handouts when needed, spell sheets, encounter sheets, and more!
This may all sound familiar, but seeing as this is a Starter Set, I think it's important to reiterate:

• Read the Adventure: I know surprising, but it can be extremely confusing when you don't know where everything leads to.
• Consider the needs of your group: As you've heard or are about to hear a million times, every table is different. If you plan on combining this with a campaign, you'll have to make tweaks here and there.
• These notes aren't meant to be the end-all-be-all: Tweak to your heart's content, and don't consider any of what's written to be set in stone. For me having notes like this helps give me the confidence to go off the rails and follow along with what my players want. It helps me understand where things are meant to go and why. Having that understanding allows me to guide the players and create other new and interesting stories. These are all things that will come with experience, though, so don't freak out and enjoy the journey!

Without further ado:
Index & FAQ:
Dragons of Stormwreck Isle:

• Part 1 - Dragon's Rest
• Part 2 - Seagrow Cave
• Part 3 - Cursed Shipwreck
• Part 4 - Clifftop Observatory

Over 5 dozen other Fully Prepped One-Shots, Adventures, and Campaigns: Click Here
As always, if you see something you think I can improve, add, change, etc. please let me know. I want this to be an amazing resource for all DMs and plan to keep it constantly updated! If you'd like to support me, shape future releases, and get content early feel free to check out my Patreon!
Cheers, Advent

Welcome back to Advent's Amazing Advice! The series where I take popular One-Shots, Adventures, Campaigns, etc. and fully prep them for both New and Busy DMs. This prep includes fully fleshed-out notes, music, ambiance, encounter sheets, handouts, battle maps, tweaks, and more so you can run the best sessions possible with the least stress possible!
Phandelver and Below: The Shattered Obelisk stems from The Lost Mine of Phandelver a classic and beloved starter set that many new DMs run. Even with this being the most recent release it still has an issue, the same as with many others...it doesn't describe the best way to transform the book's contents into an actual session. The Book-to-session conversion can be difficult between figuring out when things should happen, understanding motivations, and even organizing encounters.
Well, fortunately for you, 99% of that work is done! Only a few things are really left:

• Read the book, I know surprising, but it can be extremely confusing when you don't know where everything leads to.
• Consider the needs of your group. As you've heard or are about to hear a million times, every table is different. If you plan on combining this with a campaign, you'll have to make tweaks here and there.
• These notes aren't meant to be the end-all-be-all. Tweak to your heart's content, and don't consider any of what's written to be set in stone. For me having notes like this helps give me the confidence to go off the rails and follow along with what my players want. It helps me understand where things were meant to go and why. Having that understanding allows me to guide the players and create other new and interesting stories. These are all things that will come with experience, though, so don't freak out and enjoy the journey!

Advent's Notes: I was surprised with how few changes were made in the book considering how long this adventure has been around and all the wonderful things the community has come up with, I was even more surprised when they started adding more monsters to Cragmaw Cave. It's already pretty rough in there and with the additional creatures, it's almost assured there's going to be a TPK. I've kept most of the fights the way they were with only a few minor adjustments, the most important changes are just subtle nods to the Psi Goblins that will be encountered later on.
Without further ado:

• Google Docs Notes Part 1 Cragmaw Hideout: DM Notes
• Link to: Intro + Cragmaw Hideout Playlist
• List of changes in Phandelver and Below: Change List
• Link to: The AAA Collection

Included in The AAA Collection are:

• A Word document with all my notes, including links to music tracks for ambiance and fights
• Special PDFs for all the encounters. This includes all the enemies' stat blocks organized neatly, along with an initiative tracker and a spot to mark HP.
• An additional PDF with Sildars stats should he join the party as an ally
• Custom maps of Cragmaw Hideout. I enlarged and printed this out for my players as a battle map!

Over 5 dozen other Fully Prepped One-Shots, Adventures, and Campaigns: Click Here
As always, if you see something you think I can improve, add, change, etc. please let me know. I want this to be an amazing resource for all DMs and plan to keep it constantly updated! If you'd like to support me, shape future releases, and get content early feel free to check out my Patreon!
Cheers, Advent

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

Note: All of the following criteria are looked at in a vacuum and isolated from other matchups.
Connections:
How similar are the characters, are the connections to said characters true, and are they unique to both characters?
Note: Quantity is taken into account, but quality and uniqueness are what’s primarily taken into account for ranking.
0 : They do not exist and / or are all factually incorrect.
0.5: There is at least one connection that is factually accurate, but it is generic and surface level.
1-3: There is at least one accurate connection, and this one connection is of good quality and is unique. Everything else is either very stretched, generic, and/or wrong.
4-6: More than one connections that are mostly accurate, and there are a few unique connections, and any others are primarily made up of generic connections. Not necessarily bad connections, just ones that are not unique. There may be a handful of stretches. The number of connections isn’t as important up until this point.
7-9: There are a decent amount of connections that are all accurate and strong aside from a few stretched and/or generic connections.
10: A bunch of strong, unique connections that are all factually accurate with very little to no stretches.
Examples of Good Connections: Isaac vs Omori, Harry Potter vs Percy Jackson
Examples of Bad Connections: Darth Vader vs Sephiroth, Buddha vs Gojo
Thematics:
How similar are the character’s personal stories? And if they’re not similar, what about the stories of franchises overall?
Note: Contrasts are counted (as parallels) for when ranking Thematics. Uniqueness and quality also apply to thematics.
0: Character’s Stories and/or Series do not align or parallel at all
1-3: Character’s Stories and/or Series are vaguely similar
4-6: Character’s Stories and/or Series are decently similar and/or parallel each other
7-9: Character’s Stories and/or Series are very similar and/or parallel each other
10: Character’s Stories and/or Series either align/contrast nearly perfectly
Examples of Good Thematics: Ori vs The Knight, Ghost Rider vs Spawn
Examples of Bad Thematics: Luffy vs Ryuko, Giratina vs Yukari
Example of Stronger Connections but Weaker Thematics: Goku vs Sonic, Agent Jones vs Rick Sanchez
Example of Weaker Connections but Stronger Thematics: Monokuma vs Koro-Sensei, Duke Nukem vs Serious Sam
Animation Potential:
How easy would it be to produce a good looking animation? (Available models and sprites, effort required to draw by hand, etc.)
Note: Live Action episodes are too few and far between in both official episodes and MUs that would actually benefit from it, so it will not be taken into account for most MUs.
0: Neither Characters have assets that can be used to make an animation. Assets are going to have to be made in full for the animation to work (I.E. Making 3d models / Sprite sheets from scratch). Almost entirely relies on being hand drawn.
1-3: Only one character has assets, with them being low quality at that. Heavily relies on being hand drawn or assets being created and/or edited.
4-6: At least one character has high quality assets in both sprites and 3D with the other having minimal resources OR both characters have very low quality assets. Would need to rely on hand drawn a bit, but depending on the MU it could be excusable.
7-9: Both have high quality assets in either sprites and/or 3D and/or are very hand drawn friendly. (HD friendly characters EX: The Knight (Hollow Knight), Scooby-Doo, Mickey Mouse, etc.)
10: Both have high quality assets in all styles and are very hand drawn friendly.
Examples of Good Animation Potential: Yuji VS Denji, Scorpion vs Kratos
Examples of Bad Animation Potential: Junko vs The Major, Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III vs Guts
Fight Potential:
How do the characters' combat kits mesh well and/or bounce off of each other well? Do both characters have enough in their respective arsenals to make an interesting fight?
Note: This is based purely on the actual combat side of things, with more intelligence based MUs doing better in Story Potential.
0: Neither character has/can canonically fight
0.5: One character can fight, the other can not
1-3: Both characters are able to fight though very minimal means, usually just being just normal people throwing out basic attacks (punches, kicks, sword swipes, etc.).
4-6: Both have at least more than one ability that can bounce off / counter each other well somewhat dynamically
7-9: Both characters have abilities that bounce off of each other naturally, with both having a lot to pull from in their arsenals
10: Both poweskill sets bounce/match each other masterfully and has a very good and enticing dynamic
Examples of Good Fight Potential: Kaos vs Vortech, Skul vs The Knight
Examples of Bad Fight Potential: Shigaraki vs Mahito, Walter White vs Light Yagami
Interaction Potential:
How well do the characters' personalities, fighting styles, and environment mesh well with each other?
Note: Non verbal communication is taken into account, and non language based communication is also taken into account (roaring/screaming, body language, general expressions of emotion, etc.)
0: Both characters are mute and/or emotionless and cannot interact with one another.
1-3: Only one of the characters in the match up can speak/interact, whereas the other character is either unable or unwilling to interact with either character. The dynamic is one-sided
4-6: Both characters can interact with each other, and their personalities are able to bounce off each other at least on a surface level
7-9: Both characters can easily create unique dialog and banter that comes and flows very naturally.
10: Both characters involved have nearly the same personalities, or contrast each other in an extremely dynamic way that flows extremely naturally
Examples of Good Interaction Potential: Darth Vader vs Lich King, Blade Wolf vs Omega
Examples of Bad Interaction Potential: Giratina vs Wobblewok, Revan VS Dark Urge
Story Potential:
Do the characters involved have a good, in-character reason to want to fight one another? Is there potential for an interesting story to be told through the fight?
0: Neither have an in character reason to fight and have no interesting or dynamic potential for a story during the fight
1-3: At least one character has a reason to want to fight, albeit a reason that’s dubious. That, or the reason both characters want to fight fall into cliche storytelling tropes (for the fight to functionally work, you would need to force these characters into a situation that’s out of character for both)
4-6: Both have a good reason as to why they would want to fight each other, but it’s not unique to either character specifically
7-9: Both have a good in character reason to want to fight and have the potential for an interesting story to be told during the fight/grow some kind of relationship with each other
10: Both have a perfect reason to fight with a magnificent story being told during the fight that feels very official, aside from one having to die
Examples of Good Story Potential: Walter White vs Light Yagami, DIO vs Alucard
Examples of Bad Story Potential: Josuke vs Ichiban, Adam vs Asura
Music Potential:
Do the styles of the characters and/or series mesh well? How many types of genres can it be? Can it tell something of a story without vocals?
Note: We rarely if ever take commission tracks into account for this category, given it can either under utilize the source material or goes involves the commissioned to create an effectively original track
0: Neither have canonical music to work with
1-3: Both have music to work with but clash very hard in tone, instrument choice, genre, and composition/heavily rely on Brandon and Therewolf being Brandon and Therewolf
4-6: Both have music that can work together but would clash in tone, instrument choice, genre, or composition/rely on Brandon and Therewolf being Brandon and Therewolf
7-9: Both have music that can very clearly work well together and/or can work in multiple different genres
10: Matches up in tone, instrument choice, and composition, can reasonably work in multiple genres, can tell somewhat of a story, and can just fucking slap
Examples of Good Music Potential: Grimm vs Alastor, Teddy vs Faust
Examples of Bad Music Potential: Gojo vs Gyro, King Piccolo vs Sukuna
Debatability:
Can you reasonably make an argument for either character to win the fight?
0: Neither character has anything to work with in terms of debating. They have no feats, or scaling of any kind to work with
1-3: The winner of the match up is very clear cut. With the only notable discussion being how fast does the winner stomp the loser
4-6: Both have win cons, but it's still very cut and dry who wins. And/or the debate relies on what you buy for both
7-9: Very debatable with very reasonable arguments being able to be made for either character winning
10: It’s borderline, could go either way, and or is a tie
Examples of Good Debatability: Shang Tsung vs Raphael, Q84 vs Batter
Examples of Bad Debatability: Alastor vs Black Hat, Scout vs Rebbeca
Promotability:
How easy would it be to make promotional material for the matchup?
Note: Hand drawn fan art from artists both inside and outside the general Death Battle community are not taken into account when ranking Promotability.
0: Neither characters have official cannon designs to work with
1-3: Characters have at least one render for thumbnails, and minimal assets for track arts and next time trailers
4-6: Characters have a fair amount of content in decently high quality for thumbnails, trailers, etc.
7-9: Characters have a lot of good, high quality, and dynamic renders and footage to use. The matchup can be easily promoted and it be of good quality
10: Characters have an abundance of renders with dynamic posing and in great quality for thumbnails, next time trailers, etc.
Examples of Good Promotability: Springtrap vs Junko, Makima vs The Batter
Examples of Bad Promotability: Sans vs The Judge, Owlman vs Rick Prime
Recognizability:
Character recognition is how well known the characters / series are, how well documented the characters / series’ are, and how well established they are in and outside of Death Battle
Note: Character recognition is taken into account for both existing fans of Death Battle, and newcomers to the series. This does not account for popularity
0: The characters involved in the match up are either extremely obscure, to the point where only the match up creator knows who the characters are, or they do not exist
1-3: Characters/Series are at least semi known and have a decent following, but are still extremely obscure to the general public and to the DBM subreddit. At bare minimum the characters exist
4-6: Characters/Series are decently well known, and have a decently sized following. But are still not considered to be household names. More often than not brand names are carrying the recognizability more than the characters themselves
7-9: Both the characters and their respective series are massively well known and documented, both in and out of the DBM community
10: Household names that have reached across the globe. These characters are massively well known, with very few people, if anyone, not knowing who these characters are.
Examples of Good Recognizability: Homer vs Vader, Mickey vs Bugs
Examples of Bad Recognizability: Multiverse Monarch VS The Cockroach King, Uzi vs Izzy Fisher
Here is the outline for the overall finished grades. Mind you this is based on the Canadian grading system so anything below a 50 is considered to be a failing grade.
0-29: Any match up that gets a grade in this score really cannot functionally work as an episode of the show. Too much effort would be placed on the Death Battle team in order to make it happen.
30-49: Any match up that gets a final grade within this score could work as an episode, in theory. But in practice it would still prove too difficult for the Death Battle team to make a full episode on.
50-59: Any match up that gets a final grade within this score can functionally work as a full episode of the show. There is just enough for the Death Battle team to justify making a full episode on, but would still require significant effort to make the episode work.
60-69 (nice): Any match up that gets a final grade within this score can solidly work as a full episode with very few potential major issues. There may be a few that still permeate, but nothing that will bring the match up down overall in terms of making a full episode.
70-79: Any match up that gets a final grade within this score can definitively work as a full episode of the show. There is enough to make an episode work and then some, with only 1 or 2 potential major issues, but nothing too great that brings the overall quality down significantly
80-89: Any match up that gets a final grade within this score can work fantastically as a full episode. There would only be 1 potential major issue, but it would be minor in comparison to everything else the match up gets right.
90+: Why isn’t this an episode yet? This matchup is firing on all cylinders and has nearly every category going for it in its favor.
With all of this being said, does anyone have any further questions about the rubric? I would be happy to answer any and all questions.

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 retorted, a hint of irritation lacing his words at the jab about his height. "I may have let my enthusiasm get the better of me, but rest assured, I understand the magnitude of this battle. Just like the Hydra, no matter how many heads you regrow, I'll persevere until I've completed 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 she 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 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 almost 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 blast 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. "No, young Heracles, Hydra." he intoned, his voice echoing with a bizarre resonance. “The Lernaean Hydra's curse is upon you now.” as he said that he cut off a bit of his arm that was cuterarised with his golden blade 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 of 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 fate of chaoskampf? The hero battling the dragon?
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 feel headachey and tired today but my mood feels better than yesterday so that’s good!
We were in the middle of a conversation last night, he had me utterly soaked and losing my mind and then it went silent and I couldn’t hear him and when I tell you the timing could not have been worse I am not kidding. Except it turns out he could still hear me, which I felt embarrassed about later because I was basically being a little whimpering mess because I assumed he couldn’t hear anything either like he normally can’t. So anyway now he must know he’s baby because I was saying things like baby come back and where are you like an absolute idiot. I think my brain cells lessen even more so when I’m in that frame of mind. Wait and so that means he’d already cum and was over the whole thing and I didn’t know and I kept going, and he kept like… encouraging it with the dirty stuff he was saying. That’s kind of embarrassing that he was just sat there twiddling his thumbs and there I was sounding so stupid. He’s so sweet.
I’ve decided the middle-ish bit of the miss murder song sounds like Jeff Buckley for a little bit, not the voice but the music bit. Only briefly. Anyway my poppunky phase has still returned, I feel 14 again listening to the used and stuff, what a time. I’ve only saved the main big ones to this new playlist though, I know I’m forgetting a bunch of not top 40 kinda ones but whatever these are scratch my lil itch. I’m also just having a lil nostalgic phase with that playlist - it’s wild how much my music taste has changed… but also stayed the same? I loved the klaxons back then, I’m listening to them again and I still like them, and I’m remembering lyrics when I forgot said song even existed. Maybe that’s why I remember nothing from school, because my head is filled with useless lyrics. Good one, brain. Or Simian Mobile Disco? Entirely forgot they existed. I never forgot about the yeah yeah yeahs though, I have succcchhhhhhhh a vivid memory of listening to them while walking around some suburb in Brisbane while we were visiting my aunty and uncle, I think I was 14 or 15, and I was wearing a white tshirt because I remember it started pouring down and it went see through and I felt super embarrassed. But it was night time, or like after dinner time, and I was just going on a stroll cause idk I was a teenager and probably wanted some space to be my angsty self. I remember my uncle had a movie room, not really but he called it that, and it had bean bags and stuff and he had all the HP movies, or at least whatever was out by then. And now I’m day dreaming about how I was a couple cities away from my honey, except what’s the bet he would take one look at 14/15 year old me when he was like 18/19 and be like ew get away from me you little creep. Anyway. Le Tigre were big for me. Xray spex too, the intro to oh bondage up yours still to this day haunts my mind. I listened to that germ free adolescent album a lot at one stage. I’ve just listened to a bunch of it now and I still like it a lot. I have to say the more my mood has dropped and my anxiety increased over the years the more subdued music I listen to, I wonder if it’s connected? Because I used to listen to a lot of… busy music, let’s say. Whereas now it stresses me out sometimes, and I wonder if it’s because there’s too much at once and that doesn’t mesh well with an already hectic head. Omg and MGMT, I had a biggggggg phase of them. I genuinely wanted to marry the curly haired one, I thought everything about him was so dreamy. I want to say his name is Andrew from memory, lucky me getting an even better Andrew! It’s weird to think of Andy as an Andrew, I mean ultimately he’s honeybunny or baby but he’s also Andy. And his friends don’t even call him that? I’m obviously not writing what that name is here. I think it’s so so cute that his friends kid calls him that too, or tries to. Anyway he’s just baby. I think I say the same stuff in these journals all the time.
I feel a lot of relief knowing I have no more things on til July. I’m proud of myself though, it was technically homework for therapy - to do things that make me happy. Outside of the house, around people I mean. And so she asked what I would do if I was “normal” and one of them was go to things like the ballet and plays, things I miss out on because I’m too scared. So we agreed I would go to a couple and I did!! Homework: achieved. She was really proud of me when I said the events I had coming up, I know that sounds so pathetic and stupid but I’m definitely someone that needs to hear that praise and stuff. I can get by without it, but it’s encouraging to hear it, y’know? Idk.
Work is annoying me.
I don’t get why the idea of his friend doesn’t make him jealous. I don’t want it to make him jealous, I don’t want any form of negativity around it, but why doesn’t it? Am I built that differently to him? If he even floated the idea of that to me vice versa I don’t think I would ever recover. I mean that’s dramatic and I would but I would be paranoid about it for a looooooong time. But so why doesn’t he care? It feels like I care more about it than he does, it feels like I’m more concerned about it than he is? I don’t get it. I absolutely don’t want him to be super jealous or anything like that, I know I find the whole territorial thing crazzzzy hot in fiction but in reality I would find it stifling and frustrating. But him having zero ounce of jealousy just idk, it makes me feel like he doesn’t care? If he was to feel jealous, doesn’t that mean he’d want me all to himself? So if he isn’t jealous, then he doesn’t? I know I’m overthinking this so I’ll stop. And also in the past he’s said in reality he doesn’t know if he would actually want me with anyone else, but the idea and fantasy of it all is hot, which I agree with. I mean never say never because idk I guess I kind of do want to experience him and someone else at the same time, like I wouldn’t care in the slightest if it never happened but it is something I think I do properly want. But everything else? Even if we got to the point of finding someone and it eventuating and all of that… I can’t envision me actually going through with it. Even if Andy wanted it. Except maybe I would, but not out of want but out of feeling like I should because I don’t want to let anyone down. I know that isn’t a good reason to say yes but idk. Anyway. None of this matters. I don’t think the fact he doesn’t get jealous as such means he doesn’t care. If he didn’t care then he would end things.
Not to be rude and horrid and hateful but some people have the most god awful voices. There’s a podcast of three women who talk about books and stuff and anyway they’re all American and two of them are fine, if a little grating at times, but one of them has the most disgusting voices I’ve ever heard. It’s HORRIBLE. And she keeps shouting over the others and screeching and it’s just such a gross voice. I feel so mean :(
I worked kinda late, just til 7 or so. And then I had dinner, had chats with M, had a shower, made my bed and showered annnnnd now it’s time with my baby! The sky was very pretty tonight, it was like a glowing rose gold. It kind of made me think of a copper pot on a fire. I feel like suchhhh a lil grub, I only changed my sheets today and it’s Wednesday. That means a week and half of the same sheets! Which I guess isn’t actually so bad compared to others but still. And I also shower right before bed, so in theory I know they’re fine but I like to have fresh sheets every Sunday, it’s just how I am. I can’t wait to make our bed, I wonder if he’d think it was silly to sometimes leave lil lovey notes under his pillow? Just now and then, like a lil post it size note saying something cute. Hm. I do things like that though, and I know it can be seen as super lame and things so idk. I’ll just have to learn what’s okay and what’s not. Hmmm. Anyway.
Night night

Hello again!
Over the last 3 hours, I've decided to start creating an excel file to list all the ‘tracks’ that might have a connection to the SMMC (based on the title, for example). This will allow you to consult this list from time to time to see if a piece of music you've just found has already been ‘debunked’ or not.
For the moment, the file is read-only, I still need to make a few changes to easily add a ‘free’ section where you can add tracks that will then be manually added to the list.
As for the search, I've decided to go straight for all tracks on Discogs with ‘genre: electronic’ between the 90s and 99s, and which contain ‘Drive me Crazy’ or something quite ‘similar’. There are still 2-3 tracks without ‘audio source’ but most of them are unlikely because of their general characteristics which don't seem to match SMMC at all.
Here's the link: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/e/2PACX-1vRVOkpaWKu_gBkqSEiTkPHHsH-if9YFatGCTr4TjKZWcTSfIobxTKEmMaeI-KENXGn8yBTTr7YmUL6v/pubhtml#
I might also add a section in the google sheets, allowing you to update contacts, etc ...
When it's updated for integration, I'll say so in a comment, and edit the post.

This is for a community theatre musical that’s around 45 minutes away from me. On the sheet I indicated that I’d only be interested in 3 of the principal roles and answered “no” the the question about whether I’d be willing to accept other roles.
At the callbacks I sang and read for all 3 roles, but they also had me read for a smaller bit part that is in a few scenes and has a 3 measure solo in one song, and in my opinion was a better character fit for me compared to the 3 leads due age/type/personality. They ended up offering me this role even though I answered “no” to the question about accepting other roles.
I’m leaning towards declining it so I’m free to audition for other shows this summer, but I was wondering if you think that declining this role would blacklist me. The director made comments about hoping that everyone would accept any role and I do think declining the role I was offered would make me look like a diva, but for my own personal growth as an artist whose trying to make the jump to professional and eventually regional theatre, I feel like I have to set the boundary that if a show is unpaid, I’ll only accept principal roles so I can build my resume.
It does make me feel bad to potentially burn a bridge, but the theatre is pretty far away and I do have other shows this summer (similar driving distance) to audition for that are probably a better fit.
What would you guys do in my situation?

A couple of years ago I tried writing my own version of Stones Abbigale. I never got past the first couple scenes, but I'm considering returning to it. I wanted to basically rewrite and change up a lot of things, mainly focusing on Abbi and Davis and changing some elements. Let me know what you think!

1
It's almost four in the morning and Seth is threatening suicide again. Good. Fuck him. I hope he does it. I don't text him that because I read about this girl who told her boyfriend to kill himself. The irony was that when he actually did it she got charged with second degree murder. My life is fucked as it is I don't need to make it worse. I’m shivering under my comforter because we’re halfway through November. I think about the turkey that won't get made this year and the family I won't see. I think that's swell. Seth is still texting.
Its like u dont even care after everything that happened and after everything we did together i saved ur life and i stayed with u when u cried and i hugged u and i did everything for u but that wasn't enough was it? i try so hard and all u ever are is a bitch to me that's not fair u want me to die and u hate me and u dont even care and im sick of it abbi why is is so hard for u to care about me?
I don't respond. I don't like how I feel about this. This should be easy. He won't actually do it. He won't. He’s too self involved to kill himself. I put my phone face down on my bed. The sheets shake around it as he sends message after message. I was sleeping on a ticking bomb so I got off of it. My feet stick to the floor, I struggle to step. I might as well have been standing barefoot on ice. I trudge to my window so I can see my street at night.
Winter is really coming. You can't hear as many birds as you used to. They've all gone. They've all flown away. I can see three streetlights from where I’m standing. If you look from right to left, you can see the concrete fracture into the sand. I open my window and brace for the chill. I stick my head outside. The ocean is not far away. I hear it hitting the shore over and over. Waves of water splashing incessantly, almost beating out my text notifications.
The street lights flicker. I think of last summer. When Seth and I got really high after the news broke. I was making out with that bong. Emptying bowl after bowl, clanking the glass on the road to empty it out. Just thinking about it makes me feel the street pole against my back again. I was laughing and crying. Seth leaned in and hugged me. “I’m a sure thing,” he said. “I love you and I always will.”I caught my reflection in his sunglasses. I looked awful. I shiver at the memory.
My phone is still buzzing. I try to catch my breath. I shut my window and start to walk back to my bed. A room always looks different in the dark. Maybe you think you know where you are, but there is always something that can jump out at you on the floor. Like a ghostly paper bag or a vengeful shoe. Objects that seem to move on their own with the sole drive of tripping you.
I crawl back into bed. There's the phantom of Dad’s snoring . I know he's not sleeping in his room, he fell asleep on the couch after finishing his seventh fifth. Sometimes my brain fills in the gaps so I can hear it everywhere. Funnily, I haven't actually heard him snore since Mom left. That's the one thing I ever heard them fight about. Before she turned out to be a whore, I guess.
BZZT.BZZT.BZZT.
I can't bring myself to read any of his messages. They're coming so fast all the paragraphs are lost to motion blur. Seth’s arms wrap around me and I think about the beating of his heart and the warmth of his lips against my skin. I open up the texts, ready to respond.
I love you
I text this over and over until I fall asleep.
Davis was the only senior on the bus. Somehow, everyone else had a car or a ride. It’s all right, though. James would probably give him one if he had a car, but he skated to school every morning. That's why he barely ever rode the bus with him. The bus thumped along the under paved roads. Davis forgot his earbuds at home, so the only music that accompanied him was his racing thoughts. Two sophomore girls popped their heads over.
“Ohmigod, Davis!” One of them shrieked.
“As I live and breathe,” he smiled. “Nice,” she said. “I’m so excited to see your finished painting.”
Davis took the lower level art class for a requirement. Like most things, he's not taking it very seriously. For their pop art unit, he's painting a portrait of the art teacher with a warthog face. It's one of his funny disruptions. He knows Mrs. Stanley is going to have a real field day with it, but it doesn't matter. Artistic liberties, he’d profess.
“She's such a bitch, isn't she?” The sophomore girl turns to her compatriot, who only nods in response.
“She's just jealous,” Davis says. “It must be depressing to teach art and see the youth soar above her.”
“For sure,” the girl doesn't get it. Class clown is a semi-heavy burden. Davis doesn't really feel like talking to these girls, but his position demands it. Comedy informs everything about him. To the giant thrift store jeans, to the loud Hawaiian shirt. He and James are the ultimate combination, at least he likes to think so. Quiet brooding begs for bright distraction.
The girl is still trying to talk to him and Davis is saying his preprogrammed lines. The bus stops in front of James’s street. Surprisingly, James is standing there.
“Like I’m this close to just filling my hydroflask with vodka, yaknow?” says the chick. Maybe she's just trying to get a rise out of him.
“Better be prepared to give me more than a sip,” Davis is watching James grumble towards the bus.
The sun is beating down on the forming ice puddles. James stomps through them with small shattering steps.
James turns up the bus aisle and plops in the seat next to Davis. Davis’s smile is genuine now, but he fights it from getting too wide.
“Crash your vehicle?” Davis asks.
“Something like it,” there's something off with him. Davis doesn't want to push it.
“Well damn, hope insurance covers it,” Davis wants James to break and laugh. Is it just another mood or did something actually happen this time?
“It won't, I got bad credit,” James grins and it's like heaven. “What's the move for you today?”
“Surviving art and physics for me,” says Davis. “Those bastards love to keep me down.”
“Who doesn't,” James eyes the girls who have since returned to whatever they were doing before. It's the judgement stare, as Davis calls it. James likes to observe his peers like a zoo-goer. Breaking them down to taxonomic types. Davis likes to think that James doesn't do this to him, but he knows he probably does.
“It sucks you decided to be bad at school and take baby art,” James is still dissecting the sophomore girls down to their tropes. “We could have done Art II together.”
“I wouldn't want to get between you and Alex. I know how you love it when people piss in jars next to you.”
“That's disgusting,” James breaks his glare at the girls.
“It's performance art, it's beautiful,” Davis gets up out of his seat to yell. “Everyone witness the wonderful work of Alex Madov! Disengage yourself from the shackles of capitalism by shouting with me: Poopy, pee pee, poop!”
Davis gets a few chuckles from the other kids on the bus.
“Sit down, fatso,” mumbles the bus driver.
“I will not be silenced! I’m a messenger of the good word, sir!”
"More of this shit and I’m skipping your stop!” “Fine, but I will make Alex remember on the day of judgement,” Davis sits back down. James is full belly laughing.
“You're so retarded,” James wheezes. Davis can't even come back with a response. He's high off of it.
The bus pulls into the school lot with a short stop. The mobs get up and begin to race out. Davis follows James down the line.
“You know Abbi?” James asks. Davis feels a little pit form in his stomach, but he doesn't change his expression.
“Vaguely, what about her?”
“She's in my art class,” James begins. “And I think … well you know, I’m going to talk to her.” He walks down the steps and out the door.
“Doesn't she have a boyfr-” before Davis can descend the driver's arm blocks him.
“I’ve had enough of your shit, kid,” he says. “If you keep being obnoxious, I’m gonna find a way to make you pay for it.”
James looks back, but he can't stay. Davis knows that he's gotta get to class. James does a little wave goodbye and Davis salutes him. “Are you even listening to me?” the bus driver seethes.
“Yes, sir. Divine retribution, got it.” Davis ducks underneath his arm and exits the bus. James has already disappeared into the crowd.
I pass the bong to Ashley. She starts another bowl. She’s the transport and I provide the material. The little things that keep our friendship afloat. I look at the clock in her car.
“It's 8:45,” I pick a piece of bagel out of my teeth.
“So that's it, we officially missed first period,” Ashley tops it off.
“They won't mark us, you know. It's a study.”
“Yeah, but when's the last time we signed in? I heard they're changing the policy again. Do you still have the lighter?”
I toss it to her. I don't get it. It's always her idea to pick me up so we can smoke before school, why now is she suddenly caring about attendance?
“We're pretty girls, we can get out of it. I’m next,” I tap on the clock. “Are you sure it's not fast?”
She shakes her head as she takes a snap. We're parked in the pond area a block or two from the school. It's our designated smoking spot. I like it, even at the end of fall it's pretty. I’m so engrossed that I don't realize her tip out the bowl and put it back in the cup holder.
“I don't know if it's wise to keep up the activity, we should probably get going soon,” she starts up her car again.
“Okay,” I say.
She reverses and swings out of the lot. We lean into the silence and it's super weird.
“Seth texted me last night,” I wait for her reaction.
“Oh,” she grimaces. “What did you say?”
“That I loved him.” Silence again. Ashley's trying to put together something well-meaning while understanding that I’ll probably ignore whatever she has to say.
“Abbi, I’m not trying to tell you how to run your life, but …” Her expression is now quizzical. She's said what she is about to say a number of different ways all ready. She thinks and thinks and decides to say nothing. Good call, I would have screamed at her. Not because what she thinks about my situation isn't true, I’m just in a ‘screaming at people mood’ because of it.
“I’m going to dye my hair again,” she changes the subject to avoid conflict. Classic Ash.
“Oh yeah? What color this time?”
“I don't know,” she checks her reflection in the rear view. “The red has faded out, maybe blue or pink this time.”
“You should go with a softer pink,” I say. “Since you're a soft spring.”
“Yeah, maybe.” We enter the school lot. “Listen, do you want to get together when I do it? Maybe you can dye your hair too.”
“I don't know, I might be busy,” I say. “Seth might want to do something,” I pause for her to protest. “Okay,” she says. She parks and we get out.
I barrel into art class. I don't care if I reek, out of all the teachers I can tell Mrs. Stanley smokes the most. It would be hypocritical of her to care. It looks like I’m the first one. Weird. I check my phone. It's 8:45. Well, fuck. Looks like Ashley needs to fix her clock. Mrs. Stanley is at her desk. She looks at me knowingly.
“Eager to create today, Abbi?”
I just nod and sit at my desk. I’m really feeling it. I open up my precalc notebook and just start sketching. Birds, eyes, trees, whatever. Kids start coming in. Their chatter echoes around me, I try to focus on what I’m doing. Someone bumps into my table. I look up. It's this lanky blonde kid, I think his name is James. He presses his hands underneath the desk as he leans up to talk to me.
“Eww!” He shouts. Some kids turn and laugh. I don't. I just stare at him. James goes red and sits next to the kid who pissed in a jar. Once an adequate amount of students are in the room, Mrs. Stanley starts her lesson slideshow. On the screen is a dirty urinal.
“How many of you are familiar with this work by Marcel DuChamp?” she asks. At this point, Jason, the designated meathead jock, enters the room.
“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. S,” he booms. He looks at the slide. “We building bathrooms today?” Mrs. Stanley glares at him.
“Wouldn't you like that? Considering you spend all of your time in there.”
“Whatever,” Jason brushes his mullet behind his ears.
“No, not whatever. Would you like me to move you into the sophomore class with Davis? Believe it or not he's getting much better marks than you are getting in here.”
Jason rolls his eyes and takes his place in the chair next to me.
“Up to a little extra curricular activities before art, Abbi?” he motions a joint in his fingers. I scoff and go on my phone. There's another text from Seth.
sorry about last night
and
im reading it all right now that was fucked im sorry
I start to respond, but before I can Mrs. Stanley outstretches her hand.
“Give me your phone, Miss Hagerty. I’m sick of giving you warnings.” I don't have the energy to fight, I just give it to her. “You can pick it up at the end of the day.”
My jaw actually drops. Jason must have really set her off, she's not usually such a cunt to me.
“Anyways, found art. What is it? Well, found art is the use of everyday objects to convey an altered meaning. It can be something you find on the street or something that once held value to you. For example, My Bed by Tracey Elim.” She pulls up a picture of a messy bed that looks suspiciously like my own. “So for your final unit of the quarter, you will be making your own found art. I really want you to take this project a little more seriously than most of you have been taking this class. I’m giving you the privilege of picking your own partners, but I’d like to remind you to be thoughtful with your choice. This will be worth more for your grade.”
I look around. I don't have any friends here. I toy around with the idea of asking Jason for convenience and he looks like he's about to pull that move. Behind me there's that James guy. He’s sheepishly looking at me. He seems kind of nice. Okay. I don't feel like getting up so I just turn around in my chair.
“Hey James, wanna be partners?” He balks a bit and then smiles at me.
“Yeah, totally,” He's beaming and it's somewhat endearing. Alex and I switch seats and now I’m next to him.
“I’m gonna be real with you …” I begin. He stops and shifts a little. “I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing for this.” He regards me oddly. Like he's trying to piece me together. It doesn't bother me.
“She said we have to bring in an object that's special to us and present it artistically basically,” he rubs his chin. Damn, I must be baked to hell. I didn't hear her saying that at all. “So got any stuffed animals we can cut up and make Lovecraftian monstrosities out of?”
“I got a hamster cage, hold the hamster,” I say. It comes out kind of weird and I probably sound stupid, but he doesn't seem to care. “Let's make a fucking zoo.”
“Perfect!” He’s kind of cute actually. In a way. Something about this feels fun. I realize the bell will ring soon.
“So um,” I rip out a page of my precalc notebook, still fresh with my drawings. I scrawl out my number and push it to him. “Call me so we can figure out the project some more.” I pack up all my stuff and start to head out. I can feel him watching me and it's not that bad.
“I sure will,” he says. Everything feels really groovy. There's a lightness now. I’m halfway out the door when I remember my phone. I can't believe that I just forgot about Seth. I think about begging for my phone, but I feel too above that. Still, something shakes the good feeling as the bell rings.

dear bean
yknow i know you definitely will not care about this and you will probably tell your friends and say how desperate or annoying or needy or shitty I am, and its fine - say what you want. because honestly I couldn't care less about how you think about me but I just want to be heard from your end one final time. and yea I did say that a couple times, I've tried reaching out a couple times, I've tried being a mature person even though I was actually breaking inside. so yea, I'm sorry I lied, sorry I said it would be my last time contacting you but breaking that promise every time, but this time it really will be the last time.
honestly, I think we had a good run for the what, 4 months we were friends? i have nothing bad to say about you, and even though it was hell after whatever you would call that, I still don't dislike you or hate you or feel negative feelings towards you, cause at the end of the day, we're all humans living life and we can decide when someone isn't worth being in our life anymore (that might sound passive aggressive, it wasn't supposed to sound like that, just read it like I understand the feeling). if you're annoyed by this email - don't keep reading, I'll just go on and on and I guess this email (that I will never send) is just a way for me to reflect and understand my feelings while also giving you, the bean that I knew, a chance to come out one last time before shutting me down once and for all. yea so if you're gonna go beserk from this email, dob me out to all your friends, then I suggest you leave before I pour my heart and soul out.
you were actually really cool in my eyes, talented and smart, it was hard not to admire the determination you had and the willingness to do things. and I hate admitting it, and I know my friends hate hearing me talk about it, but I miss you and your presence. yes, sue me, no I'm not in love with you, yes you made that big of and impact on me. i was scared of you when you first joined honk, you had very sharp and cool eyes. and again - you were talented which intimidated me. but overtime, I understood that you weren't scary, you were actually so sweet and funny and really silly. i liked how you pushed yourself to try harder and new things, like clarinet 1 in honk. i don't even know how we started chatting, I think you were looking for some sheet music or something. honestly it was nice talking to you, even from the beginning. it was fresh talking to someone new, I didn't have high expectations of where this friendship would go but I was happy enough to enjoy the moment while it lasted.
and well, that moment lasted a while. we talked for a week and I could already tell that my crappy feelings would complicate things - I just never met someone so like me before. even though I didn't have strong feelings, I knew they were there, but I still chose to talk to you. how foolish right? i mean we had the same interests, music (clarinet!!), txt, twisted tales, it was a coincidence meeting someone who was like a mini me. and of course, when we started talking about crushes, I felt adrenaline and just kept going until I just puked my feelings over you. I'm not sure how you felt then when I admitted I liked you, but if it was hard for you or if it made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. putting you in that position must have been hard so i'msorry. you said you weren't ready for anything serious, but I was just excited, too happy to find someone finally, that it didn;t occur to me how fast i might be going.
we had our issues, but i thought that we loved each other. i loved you so i thought that even though i had issues, talking it out with you was always the best way to work things out. communication is key, that's what i told myself. i guess it wasn't key, unless it's the key to making friendships break apart. i guess i just tricked myself into thinking you loved me just as much as i loved you, so i thought you had the same idea of communication as i did. and honestly i think a part of me was right, because you did try. but it was my fault, i kept bringing in other little small things that affected me and you had to put me back together. and i guess that must've been annoying cause at some point you just stopped trying. I'm not saying that that's an issue or that it was your problem, I'm under the impression it was all my doing.
looking past that, i seriously loved you so much. i neglected a lot for you - again not blaming you, i did it because i really really loved you so much and i wanted the best for you in every circumstance (even if it didn't seem like it). i left my friends a lot, my mum noticed i was getting more distant and well, after things ended i got into touch with my loved ones again, so I'm in a way grateful for you for doing that.
love is hard to describe. but i knew i had love for you. i said i loved my other crushes. but they were absolutely nothing compared to what i had for you. i had love for you that was comparable to my best friend (don't tell her that). mayve you can tell but words could not describe how or what i felt after things ended. not sure what your breaking point was, but it must have been a big point. i have 3 main points regarding this end of whatever we had:

1. what is it we even had? you said we were just friends - i accept that - but i feel like it was definitely not what i saw. and yes, maybe this is subjective BUT i don't think friends hold hands (well they do but they're not afraid to), they don't celebrate "months of friendship" (recalling every month we were "together" we would celebrate) and friends don't kiss each other's foreheads like that (and if they didn't like it, they'd stop each other). honestly, I'm cringing recalling the fucking embarrassing things i did but it needs to be addressed. i have to ask you - and there's no shame in being truthful because i don't care anymore - what did you see us as? was i a one time fling? was i seriously just your friend? did you have feelings for me then realise i was too high maintenance to handle and dropped me? or maybe there was another factor. that brings me to my next point.
2. was there another person who you realised was better? again, while an average person might see this as morally incorrect - i do not care - you're human and you can feel whatever you want for whoever you want. But i’m genuinely asking, did you? Was it the guy you liked in year 6? The one who bullied you? Call me a detective but, i remember seqc calling one night after things ended, i was back from vietnam and had slightly accepted the idea of the situation. you pulled out some messages from a boy on discord, it was of him admitting he liked you back in year 6. i looked at the date, it was the 6th of january 2023, 9 days before you had the courage to break it off with me. Did he maybe have a part in this? Did you maybe feel things weren’t working out with me and realised you had a chance with someone else so you took it? AGAIN NO SHAME - you do whatever you want to do in life, i’m not shaming you or judging you I just genuinely want to know. I also saw you posting about a boy on your story - not sure if its the same boy but if it was, i hope it went well for you. Sorry these were all the conspiracy theories i made up to cope - crazy right? Imagine what a person can do to you.
3. why did we stop being friends? Even though things didn;t work out romantically (or what i thought was romantic, you thought of as friendship), i don’t know what happened to us. You told me you wanted to be friends. I also wanted to be friends. The only reason that kept me alright was the idea that even though you don’t think of me more, i could still keep you as a friend - someone i could share my passions with and geek out over txt music with. Thats why i tried to stay friends with you. I really and truly did try to make ‘friends’ work with you. But the more i tried - the more annoyed you got. Or i think you were getting annoyed. I wouldn’t know because you didn’t tell me how you felt afterwards. I tried to make it work because you said we could be friends but you gave up on me. I think that’s what hurt me the most - breaking your word. I keep saying it, but you’re entitled to do whatever you want, but it left an emotional scar on me. I don’t want to admit it, but on the days you started at (bean's new school name), i woke up early just to talk to you, to keep you company on the bus on your first few days. Yea cringey i know, bare with me please. I thought I owed you that, i thought that being friends with you after you ended ‘things’, i had to earn my right so i tried, i really tried to be my best for you, so you felt that maybe it was worth keeping me around. And maybe, maybe i was still in love with you then. But i think you saw talking to me for three days straight at 7am was annoying and you were probably uncomfortable because it was me. I feel like you saw me as a creep - almost like a pedo. But i tried and you gave up on me, and there was a time a couple months later where we were perfectly fine, but then things just went again.

you might think I just had silly little feelings for you. but I didn't. i really had feelings for you. and I don't know if you genuinely didn't see me that way, or you didn't have feelings for me, if you just thought it was a silly little thing we had going on or if you're hiding the fact you did like me at some point. I just know that losing you as a friend really crushed me to pieces. and yes you told people you never want to talk to me or talk about me - which is fine you're entitled to your own rights - but I just wanted to get this off my chest. one last time - I promise.
I don’t know if this will get to you. It probably won’t, theres a bit too much that i wrote in here. Do you care about this still? Definitely not (I’m assuming). It’s embarrassing how much I think about this and how much i regret not letting my feelings out before you removed me as a friend on instagram and discord (or even blocking me on spotify, not sure how spotify was a way for me to get to you but whatever works i guess). This issue has been taking up my mind for the last few years, and it really does suck. But I’m gonna let it out, so im sorry if you got up to here.
Not sure how much this means to you, but you can contact me anytime if you want to let out your feelings (of life, not about this or me), i want to support you as much as i can. I can also help you with coping with school - again i don’t think you’d take me up on that but it’s always an option if you need it. I won’t make it weird, i wont bring this up again, i’ll talk to you like you’re one of my friends.
I haven’t heard much about your feelings in this - feelings of anger, regret, sadness. If you do want to share (you most definitely don’t have to), email me, text me, contact me and we can talk about how you felt too. This email was for me to finally write down what i wanted to let out and finally let go of what happened (even if you think it was miniscule, it wasn’t for me).
Life is hard, and I learnt that through you and the experience of you. So thank you for teaching me this. Thank you for showing me what love felt like, and thank you for being my first love. You made it very hard for other people because i only compared them to what I had with you. But in saying that - I made life long friends who helped me cope. And I hope you found some life long friends as well.
I hope you have a good life (in saying that, i am assuming we will never meet each other ever again - but if we do meet again disregard this).
Thanks for everything (and nothing as well) (while that sounds bitter, its more like a thank you for what you taught me - life lessons and all - but also thanks for the pain i had to feel afterwards, while that pain was not enjoyable, it was what taught me).
kind regards,
toad
to readers: i censored the names for privacy, but i called her bean (as a nickname - it really suited her), and i was known as her 'toad', hence the names.

Integration of "Out of Africa" Migrations with Evolutionary Dynamics and Milankovitch Cycles

The observation that indigenous populations in the southern hemisphere have a younger age for female puberty compared to those in the northern hemisphere can be integrated into our model of human evolution, climatic cycles, and population dynamics. This difference likely stems from evolutionary pressures and environmental conditions unique to each hemisphere.

Key Components:

1. Milankovitch Cycles: Periodic changes in Earth's orbit and axial tilt influencing climate over tens of thousands of years.
   
   • Eccentricity: 100,000-year cycle.
   • Obliquity: 41,000-year cycle.
   • Precession: 26,000-year cycle.
2. Glacial and Interglacial Periods:
   
   • Glacial Periods: Times of extensive ice sheets, colder climates.
   • Interglacial Periods: Warmer periods with retreating ice sheets, higher sea levels.
3. "Out of Africa" Migrations:
   
   • Out of Africa 1: ~1.8 million years ago (Homo erectus).
   • Out of Africa 2: ~120,000 years ago (early Homo sapiens).
   • Out of Africa 3: ~60,000-70,000 years ago (modern Homo sapiens).
4. Evolutionary Dynamics:
   
   • High Frequency Evolution: Rapid evolutionary changes driven by intense environmental pressures and higher population densities.
   • Low Frequency Evolution: Slower evolutionary changes due to more stable environments and lower population densities.

Model Explanation

Climatic Influence on Migration and Evolution

Northern Hemisphere: - During interglacial periods, retreating ice sheets expose large areas of habitable land, allowing for extensive human migration and population growth. - Lower Frequency Evolution: Longer periods of stability in the northern hemisphere lead to slower evolutionary changes as populations adapt over longer timescales.
Southern Hemisphere: - Limited land area and harsher conditions during glacial periods result in higher population densities and increased competition. - Higher Frequency Evolution: Rapid and intense environmental pressures in the southern hemisphere drive faster evolutionary changes as populations must quickly adapt or face extinction.

Population Dynamics and Environmental Pressure

Interglacial Periods: - Northern Hemisphere: Expansion into newly habitable areas leads to lower population densities and slower evolution. - Southern Hemisphere: Remains largely unchanged in terms of habitable land, maintaining higher population densities and rapid evolutionary pressures.
Glacial Periods: - Northern Hemisphere: Contraction of habitable land leads to higher population densities and increased competition, but the frequency of these events is lower. - Southern Hemisphere: Even more intense competition and rapid evolutionary changes due to restricted habitable land.

Biological Implications

Age of Female Puberty: - Southern Hemisphere: Younger age for female puberty can be seen as an adaptation to high-frequency evolutionary pressures. Early reproduction can be advantageous in environments where survival rates are lower and competition is high, ensuring that genes are passed on before potential mortality. - Northern Hemisphere: Longer generation times and more stable environments may result in later puberty, aligning with the slower evolutionary pace and extended periods of relative stability.

Graphical Representation

Time Axis (t): From 200,000 years ago to present.
Variables: 1. Sea Level: Reflecting glacial and interglacial cycles. 2. Atmospheric CO₂: Correlating with glacial cycles, higher during interglacial periods. 3. Milankovitch Cycles: Eccentricity, obliquity, and precession overlaid on the timeline. 4. Human Migration Events: Marked at key points for Out of Africa 1, 2, and 3. 5. Age of Female Puberty: Plotted for populations in both hemispheres, highlighting the evolutionary pressures and resulting differences.

Conclusion

This integrated model explains the differing rates of evolutionary change in human populations based on climatic cycles and hemispheric differences. The Milankovitch cycles create alternating periods of environmental pressure that influence the frequency of evolutionary changes. Higher frequency evolution in the southern hemisphere results from intense competition and rapid environmental shifts, while lower frequency evolution in the northern hemisphere is due to longer periods of stability and slower population dynamics. The biological differences, such as the age of female puberty, reflect these evolutionary pressures.

References for Further Reading

• Harvati, K., Stringer, C., & Grün, R. (2011). The "Out of Africa" hypothesis. Nature Education Knowledge, 3(10):5.
• Milankovitch, M. (1941). Canon of Insolation and the Ice-Age Problem.
• Kutzbach, J.E., & Gallimore, R.G. (1988). The climate of the last glacial maximum: Results from a coupled atmosphere/ocean general circulation model. Science, 241(4864), 1600-1604.
• Quaternary Science Reviews. (2002). Milankovitch cycles and climate change. Quaternary Science Reviews, 21(1-3), 1-26.
• Reich, D., Patterson, N., Kircher, M., et al. (2011). Denisova admixture and the first modern human dispersals into Southeast Asia and Oceania. American Journal of Human Genetics, 89(4), 516-528.
• Bogin, B. (1999). Patterns of Human Growth. Cambridge University Press.
• Campbell, B. G., & Tishkoff, S. A. (2010). The Evolution of Human Genetic and Phenotypic Variation in Africa. Current Biology, 20(4), R166-R173.

By understanding these dynamics, we can better predict and manage current and future human migrations and their impacts on global civilization.

I’m currently working on a personal animation based on the song for a university project. Within a sequence of this short film i include the infamous harp chords from the start of the song, but am struggling to find the correct notes online.
FYI, I’m not a music expert in the slightest. But when I search up the songs chords and notes I get a lot of different results, and I’m trying to accurately visualise what these notes actually look like. - Here I mean the physical music notes as you would see on a song sheet. ‘ 🎶 ‘
If anyone has any idea about the correct notes which I should use that would be amazing and extremely helpful! I’d like to be as accurate as possible and hope this request makes sense, and if not, I’m happy to elaborate further on what I mean.

In various cultures, specific accessories hold profound symbolic value for brides. In the rich tapestry of Indian traditions, a bride’s ensemble is laden with meaning and portrays her newfound status as a married woman.
India, with its diverse traditions and customs, boasts an array of unique wedding attires, each uniquely representing the bride’s special day. Here’s a link from Youtube that explains the 9 rituals of the Hindu wedding, and what they mean.
So, what can you expect as a Marathi bride on your wedding day? Lets take a look at various ornaments that make a Maharashtrian bride’s look complete!
Bridal Saaḏee - Also called the “Saree” around the world, the Saaḏee (in Marathi) is the classic OOTD for a Maharashtrian bride. It can be a nine yards one, called Naoo-vaari (Naoo – Nine, Vaari – Yards) or a Six Yards one. The ceremonial Saaḏee is generally yellow in colour, however, it may differ as per family traditions.Illustration of a Maharashtrian bride with a labelled description of the following wedding ornaments: Naoo-vaari Saadee, Tiklee, Nath, Mundavalya, Kanatley, and Mangalsutra
Koonku/Ticklee - The Tiklee, also known as “Bindi” in other parts of India, is a red coloured dot applied on the forehead. It is applied along with vermilion powder (Koonku), and turmeric powder (Haldi) on the forehead serves as an auspicious sign of marriage. As the bride steps over the threshold of her new home, her red ticklee is believed to usher in prosperity and grant her a place as the family’s newest guardian.
In today’s world, the Ticklee has evolved into a fashion accessory and is available in various shapes, sizes, and colours.
Mangalsutra - Made of black beads and gold, the Mangalsutra is a sacred necklace that symbolises the new bond of matrimony. Just as a western groom puts the ring on his bride, in the same way the Maharashtrian groom ties the Mangalsutra around the bride’s neck.
The significance of this ornament can be seen in the meaning of the word Mangalsutra – “Mangal” meaning auspicious, and “Sutra” meaning thread or cord.
Mundavalya - A “Mundavali” (plural: Mundavalyaa) is a traditional headpiece or headband worn by Marathi brides as part of their wedding attire. Made of pearls and gold, and adorned with intricate designs such as including motifs, gemstones, and other decorative elements it symbolizes the bride’s auspicious and sacred journey into married life. The Mundavali enhances the bride’s beauty and adds an elegant and regal touch to her bridal look.
Nath - The Nath is a traditional Marathi nose ring, usually studded with pearls and gemstones, worn on the bride’s left nostril. The Maharashtrian Nath is very distinctive in appearance and is easily recognisable as a quintessential Maharashtrian ornament.
Kanatley (Earrings) - Made of gold and encrusted with precious stones, Kanatley or earrings are often paired with a matching necklace. The literal meaning of the word Kanatley is – the ones on the ear.
Mehendi - A few days before the wedding day, intricate henna designs are applied to the bride’s hands and feet during the Haldi ceremony. Applying henna on weddings is an age-old tradition, without which the wedding look remains incomplete. It is traditionally an all female event, where other women and girls attending the Haldi ceremony often choose to apply Mehendi on their hands as well.
Bangdya - Bangdee (Plural: Bangdyaa) refers to bangles worn on the hand. Brides wear green glass bangles in odd numbers along with thin gold bangles called paaṯlyaa, and thick gold bangles called toḏey.
Painjan (Anklets) - Painjan(Payal) or anklets are traditionally made of metals such as silver and gold, and are adorned with small bells and charms. They jingle with each step, creating a musical and rhythmic sound often associated with grace and femininity.
Jodavee (Toe rings) - “Jodavee” are Toe rings, traditionally made of silver, and worn in pairs, on the second toe of each foot. The ornate designs, have evolved over the years into more contemporary designs that cater to the modern bride.
A Marathi bride’s ensemble serves a cultural and aesthetic purpose. It symbolises her transition to married life, enhances her beauty and grace, and protects her from negative forces. These traditional accessories, cherished in Marathi culture for generations continue to play a significant role in Marathi weddings.
We hope this short outline has helped you better understand what you need as a Marathi bride on your big day! If you would like to practice what you have learnt, we have designed a fun crossword activity sheet to help you remember the vocabulary.