Introduction

The main purpose of this guide will be to help unlock the golden dice for those of you who feel less confident about tackling honour mode. This is designed to be a path of least resistance, so we won’t be experiencing everything this game has to offer. It’s also worth noting that instead of focusing on min-maxing for damage; we prioritise safe & consistent damage. We don’t need to be respeccing characters often, if at all, and we won’t be relying on strength elixirs. My girlfriend (u/-babyjanehudson) and I put this together as we’ve beaten honour mode a 5 times now without any failed attempts, we were even in the first 800 people to beat it which is kinda cool! Here’s how we did it. First starting with our builds, then a little general advice and finally just a list of some general Do’s & Don’ts. Apologies for the wall of text.
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Builds:

Bardlock (party face) - Great old one Warlock 2, college of lore bard 10 - Cha16>Dex16>Con14>Wis12

• Key items are the spell sparkler until Markoheshkir, potent robe, quickspell gloves, necklace of elemental augmentation & the warped headband of intellect (great for general party face checks in acts 1+2) at least until you get the birthright at sorcerers sundries in act 3. Once I reach act 3 and have persuaded half of the shadow cursed lands into dying, I personally choose to respec into Sorlock: 2 goolock, 2 fighter, 8 draconic sorcerer. It’s not necessary but I find it gives the edge in combat while in act 3, as there are less dialogue checks available that bard can abuse. Being a sorlock means every morning in camp I can convert ALL level 1+2 spell slots into extra sorcery slots meaning my bonus action is now always being used for eldritch blast thanks to quickened spell meta magic plus we have action surge :) Skill priority for this character is Persuasuion > Intimidation > Deception > Performance > Perception > Investigation. Credit to u/kethrynweryn for this build, it’s easily my fav in the game.

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Life cleric 12 - Wis16>Con16>Dex14>Str
(light cleric does more damage so is technically better for experienced players but a life cleric is there to save your run in case of an emergency, something pretty invaluable to beginners in HM as we can’t assume we are winning every fight in the first 2 turns like we ideally aim to)

• key items are reapers embrace, sentinel shield, hell riders pride, the whispering promise & blood of lathander. Other items of note would be luminous armor & the radiant/illumation rings. Most fights will simply involve casting spirit guardians at its highest level and running through crowds of enemies like you’re mowing a lawn, picking up the war caster feat is brilliant for helping you keep concentration when taking attacks of opportunity but i know as a feat it’s a little divisive, just my personal preference. This setup trivialises all combat encounters in act 2. Just remember to check enemies for radiant retort, they’re few and far between but can fuck things up if you forget.

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Swords Bard Archer (Lockpicker) - 6 Swords Bard, 4 Rogue Thief, 2 Fighter - Dex17>Cha14>Con14>Wis12>Str

• Key items are hag hair (+1dex), titan string, risky ring, hill giant club, helm of arcane acuity & band of the mystic scoundrel. With this setup every time you attack, you can hold person, fear, vicious mockery or invisibility as a bonus action :) Just make sure to use your slashing flourish as much as possible to maximise damage. Don’t forget to get to the high ground whenever possible to increase your damage.

Skill priority for this character is Sleight of hand > Stealth > Perception > Persuasion > Intimidation > Deception > Acrobatics
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Barbarian - Wild heart Bear Barb 8, Battle Master Fighter 4 - Str16>Con16>Dex14>Wis12

• Key items are more flexible here as this build is less dependant on gear. I recommend grabbing the Everburn blade if you can, it really helps during the slog of act 1 (to get it easily, when you first find Shadowheart on the nautiloid immediately swap any one of the spells in her book for Command, then use command drop on Zhalk and steal his sword. I do not recommend trying to fight him for it). Most the time you’ll just wear the usual barb stuff, bracers of defence & a 2H weapon of your choice. If you’re willing to brave Raphael & Ansur this build becomes a powerhouse with the gauntlets of hill giant strength, amulet of health & Baldurans giantslayer. These items are incredible but are also locked behind fights which pose the highest risk to your run, prepare carefully and if you don't feel confident enough then don’t be ashamed to just skip them. Anyway we take wild heart bear because being resistant to everything but psychic damage is really underrated. You can use this character to abuse the poor souls that your swords bard has been using hold person on for easy crits. Make sure to always use reckless attack. Initially it sounds bizarre but stick with me, you want enemies to have advantage against your barb. Attacking recklessly while keeping your AC capped around 17~19 means the computer always prioritises attacking your barb’ over the rest of your party. This is great as we will be taking half damage from every source other than psychic. Not to mention if you’re always using reckless attack, the feat Great Weapon Master no longer has a downside, so it becomes a reliable +10 to damage.

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Final note for builds:
As you’ve probably noticed, yes almost everybody in the party takes a dip in fighter for access to action surge & shield proficiency. I learned this habit from Colby like everything else I know. He’s the Bob Ross of DnD builds and well worth your time.
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General Advice

The most important factor in honour mode is “meta knowledge”, This means things like: knowing how to enter each combat effectively, making sure everyone is in a good position before starting, knowing exactly which enemies/spells you’ll face during that fight and ensuring you always take the enemy by surprise to gain a free turn. Being properly prepared is better than any build. As for difficulty, Act 1 is always going to be your biggest challenge so use plenty of rests and pick your fights carefully. For this guide I also recommend using your bard to persuade the act 2 bosses into committing suicide.

Do’s:

• Always have a these spells prepared: longstrider, aid, enhance ability, bless, misty step, heroes feast, counterspell, shield & guidance.
  
• Buy the ring of bless from Volo the moment you meet him at the grove.
  
• Steal Laezel’s armor at the start if you’re not using her, it’s great medium armor in the first few hours.
  
• Let Volo take your eye for a permanent see invisibility buff.
  
• Barbarian should always use reckless attack
  
• Buy & craft every potion of speed you can get your grubby mitts on. With the slight nerfs to Haste in HM potions of speed are a safer alternative.
  
• Take the Hag hair +1dex for swords bard and most the time just let Ethel have Mayrina, its fiddly to control who Ethel will offer the deal to so just go in being prepared to sacrifice Mayrina.
  
• Talk to crusher outside the goblin camp and persuade him to kiss your feet. He'll run off embaressed, follow him to the bridge away from all the other goblins. Now you can safely and easily kill him to loot his ring which increases movement speed.
  
• Use your party face to poison the goblin camp in act 1, killing over half of them outside before even entering combat and then the party face can simply deny everything.
  
• Look up the wiki page for every boss and check their legendary resistances/actions BEFORE starting the encounter. Ethel, inquisitor w’wargaz, cazador, steel watch titan & Nether brain specifically can do some seriously nasty stuff that’s exclusive to HM & can easily catch you off guard.
  
• Kill Balthazar in his room/lab where you first meet him. To make the fight even easier you can take flesh into the self same trial using the bell so you don’t have to fight him alongside Balthazar. Either way it’s a much easier than the fighting in the shadowfell.
  
• Take alert if someone has a spare feat available, otherwise increasing your main ability score is usually the best bet.
  
• Cast sanctuary on Isobel during the raid on the last light in, a lot easier than chasing after her trying to heal & blade ward her. Alternatively ignore her altogether, go straight to ambush against the drider, grab the lantern and release dolly dolly dolly, allowing you to skip the Isobel & Marcus’s fight altogether.
  
• Keep characters ability scores in even values when possible, odd values do not change anything (with a slight exception to constitution as odd values still give a little extra hp).
  
• Try to keep all characters at 12 Wis or higher to avoid being feared, charmed or hold person’d.
  
• Cast darkness over Halsins portal to prevent enemies attacking it.
  
• Take Gortash's deal to skip his fight & the steel foundry.
  
• Use minor illusion to group enemies together & pull them out of position before initiating combat. You can also use this method to fix broken NPC’s when they’re not standing where they’re meant to. Looking at you Alfira & Lakrissa.
  
• If you’re open to a little cheesing you can leave some ranged/throwing party members on the steps before the Grym boss fight. Now just rain hell down on the boss from safety.
  
• Globe of invulnerability is exactly as broken as it sounds. These scrolls restock daily at sorcerers sundries & trivialise every boss encounter in act 3. Ansur specifically has no way of countering this.
  
• Illithid powers. These wriggly little cuties are some of the strongest buffs/abilities available. I recommend having every possible party member take atleast: favourable beginnings, luck of the far realms, ability drain & cull the weak. If you opt to go half illithid then you get access to some outrageous kit such as: fly, psionic dominance, illithid expertise & blackhole.
  
• Summon any minions before casting Aid, Heroes feast, Longstrider & other morning buffs.
  
• Use your potions, elixirs & scrolls as much as possible. They’re literally everywhere & with good reason. A well timed potion of invisibility or scroll of misty step can save a run.
  
• Most people know this already but don’t forget you can throw healing potions at allies in a pinch.
  
• Before descending the stairs to Cazador’s fight have a party member go invisible. They can run over and free Astarion before rolling initiative. This method can also be used to free Volo, Mayrina, Aylin or set up smokepowder barrels for a one turn kill.
  
• Use darkness to cover any pickpocketing and then flee the area before the NPC notices they've been got.
  
• Only trade with vendors using your highest persuasion character.
  
• Give your frequently visited vendors a few hundred gold to max out their attitude. this way you have the best prices for both buying and selling.
  
• Remember you can skip the final fight altogether using the dialogue option (important distinction) to blow Gale up at the brain stem in act 3.
  

Don’ts:

• Don’t awaken at the Zaithisk unless you’re certain you can make the checks, there is a great guide on respeccing for this exact moment credit to u/kodiak3393.
  
• Don't use friends, guidance or any other spell when bargaining with Ethel for Mayrina & the hag hair. It will trigger Ethel's legendary action and prevent you from getting the hag hair.
  
• Don’t free Orpheus unless you're prepared to also fight the Emperor in the final fight.
  
• Don’t play as durge for the first time. Worth noting the cloak exclusive to durge is easily the best in the game but being durge throws the player some unexpected curveballs that can end a run if you're not prepared.
  
• Don’t keep sharpshooter toggled on permanenlty unless you’ve got risky ring or oil of accuracy.
  
• Don’t try & save the gondians, don’t go to the iron throne, do not pass go, do not collect £200
  
• Don’t underestimate Flind the and other Gnolls who are attacking Rugan in act 1, you ideally want to be level 4 before this fight. Ensure to start the encounter from insidde the cave where Rugan is trapped, it can be accessed from the area near the fake paladins of tyr & Karlach.
  
• Don’t use the cantrip Friends unless you plan on immediately leaving the area or killing the target.
  
• Don’t convince Ketheric to commit suicide at the mindlfayer colony. Instead use the first phase of the fight to get into position & takeout the Mindflayer asasp then get to work on the apostles. Makes phase 2 infinitely easier.
  
• Don’t talk to Wulbren or the Tieflings in the Moonrise prison until you’ve killed the warden and all the guards . These guards are utterly brain dead and somehow will never inform anyone upstairs of your massacre, regardless of how stealthily or raucously you tackle them. So just go hog wild. This’ll secure your potent robe with ease.
  

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[Updated & reformatted version of the guide I wrote and posted a few months ago on bg3builds with my old account u/JoseMongo]

Have you ever experienced something that shook you to your very core? Something that makes you remember every single little detail of your surroundings from that moment in time? Even years after? I can remember so vividly the moment I realized something was wrong with me. I was in my junior year of high school sitting in class, just like any other day. I remember the smell of erasers and cheap cologne that permeated off my classmate who sat next to me. I remember the scratchy tag on my t-shirt and how I was resisting taking it off in the middle of class just to cut it off. I remember what my teacher, Mrs. Brown, was talking about; 'the fall of Constantinople'. My mouth felt dry and I kept looking at the clock, counting down the minutes until I had lunch so I could get a soda. The sound of a pen clicking behind me was synchronized with the song that was stuck in my head.
All those things were going through my brain at once. My ADHD mind went a million miles per minute when it all came down to a cashing holt when I felt it at 11:23
I felt what I can only describe as a hand grabbing at the inner lining of my stomach. It didn't necessarily hurt, not at this point. That's not why I got so scared. You see, not only do I have ADHD. I also have OCD that manifests itself in the fear of anything growing or moving inside me. Even if I think about the concept of blood moving in my body or a heart that is beating in my chest, I have to think of something else. I've had full-blown panic attacks because of it. The closest term for this is 'Tokophobia'. That's technically the fear of pregnancy. I'm a guy, so it's not completely accurate but it's really the closest term. I mean, I also do have a huge fear of pregnancy. Not necessarily of me being pregnant, but even though I knew I could never get pregnant, the thought of it still made me feel sick
I bet you can imagine the terror that overcame me as I felt something moving in me. I made an audible groan and grabbed my stomach. My whole class turned to look at me. even my teacher stopped talking to ask if I was okay. I stood up and started to run to the nurses' office without even acknowledging my teacher. My first thought wasn't thinking that something was actually in my body. Even stomach aches and the feeling of gurgling in my stomach made me feel this way before. I didn't have anything on hand to help with a stomach ache, unfortunately. However, the nurse always did.
I sprinted across the school hoping and praying that my stomach wouldn't make that awful feeling again before I got there.
I turned the corner into the nurses' office with my tennis shoes squeaking in the process. I saw the school nurse, Mrs. Kennedy sitting on the couch in her office reading a magazine. She looked up at me with a sweet smile that quickly turned into worry.
"Sam, what is it? How can I help?" She said as she stood up and hurried over to me. Putting her hand over mine which was grabbing my stomach tightly.
"It's…It's my stomach. Something is wrong with it." I mumbled with a red face.
She shuffled her way over to her large medicine cabinet and she motioned for me to sit down.
She asked me questions about my stomach. Asking if it was pain, grumbling, cramps, nausea, etc. As she was asking me what my symptoms were and digging through bottles, The feeling happened again. However, this time was different. It felt like fingers grassing against the inside of my body. I screamed and wrapped my arms around my torso. Mrs. Kenneddy ran over to me to comfort me.
"This seems a lot worse than normal, maybe we should call your parents." She said as she put her hand on my back.
It felt like some days I saw Mrs. Kennedy more than my teachers. Any small ailment would distract me so badly from class that I had to go see her. Sometimes multiple times a day. She knew at this point when something was really wrong.
Within about 30 minutes both my parents were there with us. That may seem fast, but I'm an only child and my parents are very aware of my tendencies. They know I can spiral and like to be around if it happens.
They kept asking me where the pain was. I think they assumed by the way I wasn't responding to their questions the pain must've been really bad. The reality was that I just didn't know how to tell them what was going on.
I got so frustrated after they asked me over and over again that I just yelled at them.
"Something is inside me! Get it out, get it out, get it out!" I lifted my shirt and was ripping at my stomach. Leaving red nail scratches and cuts. My mom and dad ran to either side of me to grab my arms. Mrs. Kennedy had seen me go pretty crazy, but this was the worst I've ever gotten in front of her. My parents however had seen a similar situation before. Not exactly like this, but they didn't skip a beat on trying to help me.
"Sam. Breath, sweety. Just remember everything is in you for a reason. It's keeping you alive. Nothing is going to hurt you." My mom said softly to me. Trying to calm me down with the words my therapist gave her. "Ice cubes, get him ice cubes!" She said to Mrs. Kennedy as I started to hyperventilate.
Mrs. Kennedy grabbed a ziplock bag and started to fill it with ice cubes. My mom went over to her and grabbed an ice cube right out of the bag, opened up my hand, and put the ice cube in it. This worked in the past to distract me, I knew that's what she was doing, and trust me. I wanted it to work too, but this was different. I kept trying to tell myself that it was just a different feeling I hadn't felt before. That it wasn't possible something was physically inside my body. But I couldn't help it.
Everyone in the room could see that this was getting intense. I think they assumed it was just a mental breakdown and that nothing was physically wrong with my body but I didn't care. I just wanted help.
My parents got me into the car with my mom even sitting in the backseat with me. She kept trying to distract me with conversation but my mind was only on that awful feeling in my stomach.
We pulled up to the ER and my mom guided me in while holding both my wrists. It felt like she was walking me on a leash but I didn't fight it. I knew she was just trying to stop me from scratching my stomach.
We walked in and I spoke to the receptionist. All I said was that I had terrible pain in my stomach. I didn't want to sound too crazy. I just needed a doctor to look at whatever was going on.
After giving the receptionist my name and insurance information we went to sit down. I was sitting in between my parents and I could see my mom lean back to try and mouth something to my dad without me seeing. I didn't think much of it. I was way more worried about other things.
My dad then went up to the receptionist. He pointed over to me and she looked a little concerned. I saw her pick up the clipboard that had my information on it and she started writing something else on it. I asked my dad what he did and he just said to not worry and that he wanted to let her know it was urgent.
No more than 10 minutes went by and I felt a terrible moving sensation. I cringed and grabbed my stomach. Immediately followed by not just the feeling of a hand grabbing my insides but also scratching and pinching. I yelled out in pain as the other people in the waiting room looked at me mortified.
A doctor and a couple of nurses came running over to me and helped me up. But I couldn't stand up. I was in too much pain. They put me in a wheelchair and started to head for a room. However, they didn't take me through the normal big ER doors that went to the standard examination rooms, they took me and my parents through a smaller door to the side that had a padlock on it.
We walked through a white hallway that was very quiet. The doctor and nurses showed us to my room and helped me into my bed as I was wiggling and wincing. I had one parent on either side of me. Patiently waited to stop my arms from scratching.
The doctor was trying to ask further questions but he could tell it wasn't going anywhere. I knew that my dad probably told that receptionist about my OCD tendencies and that I needed to go to the psych ward. Not just to the stranded side of the ER.
I couldn't take it anymore and blurted out that something was inside my stomach and it was trying to get out.
The doctor just looked at my parents for a reaction and they gave him a sad nod. It was like they warned him that this could happen. The doctor didn't just think I was crazy, my parents did too. The doctor took a deep breath and came up to me. I knew I was about to hear some kind of dumb speech about how this was just my OCD and everything was going to be okay.
As he came closer to me, I pulled up my shirt and he gasped. Not only was my stomach scratched up like crazy, but we saw movement. It looked like when a pregnant woman can see her baby kicking. But this was so much stronger. It was stretching my skin.
My parents stood up and gasped while the doctor looked frantic and unprepared.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" The doctor said as he backed out of the room. "Hang on! We are getting this taken care of, just hang tight."
Just seconds later a nurse came in to give me some painkillers. I started to feel the pain slip away, but something so much worse started to creep in. I heard a voice. Not my own. Not some creepy-sounding creature, but the voice of a normal-sounding man that I'd never heard before. But that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was what he was saying to me.
"Get me out. Get me out. Get me out!"
It started in a normal tone, but slowly became more urgent and rushed. Then demanding.
The voice would coincide with the moment inside me.
It was getting so loud that I was having a hard time hearing the people around me. The doctor came in just a few minutes after I last saw him. He was red and sweaty. Like he'd just run a marathon. He told me they needed to do just a few tests on what was inside me before taking action.
I was trying so hard to pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth but all I could hear was the voice. The voice stopped for just a second and changed what he was saying. Now he started repeating,
"Cut me out, cut me out, cut me out, now!" I now knew this thing didn't just want out but it wanted out now. I begged the doctor to just get it out now but he wouldn't listen. The voice spoke up again.
"This is taking too long. Don't be afraid. Get me out yourself."
I think it could feel me resisting. Without realizing it, I was looking around the room for something. It was like I didn't even have control over my head or eyes anymore. I knew the voice was looking for a knife but I was trying to ignore the feeling. I knew there weren't any knives around. I was in a very safe place.
Just as I had the feeling I was safe, it was immediately taken away. The thought passed through my head that my dad probably had a pocket knife on him. My heart sank. I knew this thing could hear my thoughts. I knew what it would try to do.
The next thing I knew, I was on my feet, leaping for my dad. My body hit his. luckily, he's in pretty good shape for his age and had no problems putting me in my place.
He got on top of me and pinned me to the ground. All while I could barely hear my mom in the background. Yelling at my dad to be careful. My dad knew something was going on and that I just needed to be on the ground until I calmed down.
My body tried to flail but it wasn't successful. The whole time the voice in my head, now yelling and screaming. Not saying any distinguishable words, but just having what felt like a tantrum. What made my dad the most uncomfortable was the kicking feeling coming from my stomach.
After a couple of minutes, the voice calmed down and I felt in charge of my body again. My dad slowly got up and attempted to help me up. At this point with an audience of hospital staff that looked like they were getting ready to take me somewhere for more tests.
Just as I stood up straight, I felt the voice take over and I lost all sense of my own body. I felt like a shell of myself. My dad gave me a soft yet worried smile, and in that instance, I grabbed him and reached into his pocket. My heart sank as I felt his pocket knife. The room started to panic and about 5 people tried to grab it from me. The last thing I remember is plunging the knife into my stomach. I felt a blinding pain and everything went black.
Several hours later I started to wake up. Everything was extremely blurry and fuzzy. I could hear a very faint voice telling me to relax. As the minutes passed by, things started to become a little bit clearer. I looked around and saw I was in a large room with a few other patients. A nurse was going up to all the beds and checking in on them. I tried to sit up a bit to get more comfortable and noticed an incredible sourness in my stomach. I moved my hospital gown out of the way and saw a huge scare. About 6" across. Most of the scare looked very surgical. Like what I'd imagine a c-section surgery would look like. Except where I remembered the knife going in. It looked like a bunch of extra stitches had to be added where it went in. It also looked pretty bruised. I can imagine that a dull 10-year-old knife that was harshly shoved into a body really wouldn't cleanly cut through and leave some damage.
The feeling of shock from looking at my stomach was quickly gone when I realized that meant whatever was in me was now gone. I didn't hear the voice, I didn't feel a hand in my gut anymore, I didn't see that vile kicking anymore. I felt like I could breathe.
I asked the nurse what they found and she looked flush.
"Uh, that's something that you, uh. Your doctor will talk with you once you eat something and can speak clearly." She said as she scurried off looking upset.
Shortly after that, I was wheeled into a recovery room and my parents came to see me.
As they walked in they had a very similar look on their faces as the nurse did. They looked pale and didn't want to look me in the eye. I kept asking them questions about what was going on but they said the doctor needed to discuss it with me and he wanted to make sure I wasn't feeling high from the anesthesia while we had a conversation.
The doctor didn't come and see me for another 10 hours. Which felt strange. And to add to the strangeness, my parents were taking shifts hanging out with me. There was only overlap when they switched and the other parent took over while the other one left the room. I would understand if they weren't both with me for the whole time. I'm not that needy, but they were only both in my room together for about an hour. That was the hour before the doctor came to my room.
Finally, the doctor came in to talk to me. When he walked in, the room was cold and quiet. It was evident he didn't feel the same relief I was feeling.
He seemed awkward. Like he was talking way too long to get over to me. He grabbed a chair and scooted it close to me.
"Listen Sam. I know this last 24 hours has been very challenging. I apologize for not explaining what happened during your surgery sooner, but we all needed time to figure it out, and quite frankly, process what happened. We feel we have enough information to let you in on what is going on." A silence filled the room. It felt like no one was brave enough to break it.
"And?" I said with confusion.
"I think it'll be easier if we just show you."
The doctor along with my parents helped me into a wheelchair and we started to make our way across the hospital to an entirely different section. I couldn't believe all the things running through my head at what we were about to see. It felt like cruel and unusual punishment to leave me in anticipation and not just tell me what I was about to see.
When I went around the corner I couldn't process what I was looking at. I thought they were showing me a large tumor or growth of some kind, but why would a tumor be in a big incubation chamber with tubes connected to IVs and machines coming out of it?
As I got closer, I started to see human fetchers on it. It was mostly just a 6-pound lump of flesh, but I could see a hand sticking out of it. It was small, but what made it creepy was it looked like a fully developed man's hand. Just small. I could see a patch of hair coming out of what I assumed was its head. It had no discernible facial features. Just a few teeth scattered in one section.
As I looked at it with disgust, coming to terms with this thing that was just in my body, I had a realization. I wasn't feeling sick at the thought of something being in my body. Sure, I was grossed out that this particular thing was just in me, but the thought of the bacteria in my body didn't make me want to throw up. I thought about all the blood pumping through my veins and I felt… normal. Not only was the voice and kicking gone. But my OCD was gone too. I didn't have a mental illness. It was just this thing. Trying to find its way out for years.
As I was staring at the creature, the doctor came and put his hand on my shoulder.
"We believe this is your twin brother." I immediately looked up at my parents who looked very disturbed and upset. I let the doctor finish talking. "We believe that you absorbed him in the womb and that he has been living inside you your whole life. This is an extremely rare condition called fetus-in-fetu. It seems he didn't quite have the best opportunity to develop normally. That's why he looks the way he does. Despite his appearance, he has all the organs he needs to survive. Looks like he's missing a lung and his gallbladder. Also a piece of his liver but other than that, it looks like he will live for at least a few years. He won't be able to leave this room due to him needing a feeding tube and a few other things that his body can not do on its own. He needs lots of support just to live. What makes this situation extremely unique is that your twin is still alive despite your body not sustaining him anymore. Even though we have him hooked up to a few IVs and machines, It is unexplainable how he is living while outside of your body."
I was in complete shock. I didn't want to believe it. I asked my mom why she never told me I absorbed my twin in the womb, she said she had no clue. There was never a sign when she was pregnant with me.
He also mentioned that sometimes even in pregnancies women will go their whole pregnancy without even getting a belly. It's called a 'Cryptic pregnancy'. I've always had a bit of a gut but never anything big enough to cause suspicion. I guess in my case I had a fetus-fetu and an experience similar to a cryptic pregnancy. Even though it was in my stomach. At least that was the doctor's best guess. Although, it all sounded like BS to me.
The doctor and my parents kept trying to explain more and more details to me. I don't know why they didn't slow down a little bit for my sake. How could they not tell I wasn't processing any of this?
I noticed something while they were trying to explain things to me. They kept calling it a 'He'.
Now listen. I'm not some kind of asshole that won't respect someone who wants to be called a specific pronoun. I've never been that kind of person. But this is where I draw the line.
Not just that. But this thing had a name. My parents named it and said today was its birthday. While they told me all this information, they didn't look happy about it. It seemed like they were forced to do all this nonsense. And now it was my turn to be convinced. I could tell they were trying to force it.
The doctor told me despite it not having a high probability for a long life that we should still try and give it the love it deserves. Of course, the doctor referred to it as a 'He' but I refused to.
This disgusted me. This thing tried to kill me and ruined my quality of life for so long, and now we are going to treat it like it's some kind of prince? No, absolutely not.
Luckily, it seemed like it would never leave the hospital, but my parents planned on going to visit it daily. Visiting it? Are you kidding me? it has no eyes, no ears, it's probably miserable and has no concept of people even being around it.
I'm refusing to ever see this thing again or acknowledge its existence again.
I could get in trouble for even talking about this. The hospital or anyone involved has signed NDAs to not share any information about this until it officially dies. This is because it's a medical anomaly and the first of its kind. They want to do the proper research on how this all occurred before coming out with a statement. I just have to get this all off my chest. I feel like I'm the crazy one here when I know I'm not. I don't care if I get in trouble.
I am scared that the doctors are trying to force my parents into giving this thing a proper life. I think that's why it took them so long to tell me. I think they scared my parents into keeping it alive and guilting them or even forcing them into being its parent.
I'm all for every life being important and all that stuff, but I have a feeling my parents are terrified of this thing just like I am.
I am convinced they gaslit my parents into believing this thing is my brother. If there wasn't any sign of him while my mom was pregnant with me, could this thing be something else?
This all happened about two years ago. It's still alive and they are still researching it. My parents continue to visit it despite everything. My therapist told me that I'm probably just struggling with jealousy now that I'm not an only child anymore and so much of my parents' attention is on him now, but it's so much bigger than just jealousy.
Since this thing showed up and my OCD is pretty much gone, I've hardly seen my parents. I know I'm not just jealous. There is something more to this. I know it.
Something just feels so off about this whole thing. What is this thing? Where did it come from? And what does it want?

Sordland & Rizia Achievement Ideas

• Rash And Dangerous Reforms Achievement - have Sordland lose reforms in Assembly votes & have Royal Council turn down Romus' reforms unanimously.
• Old Habits Die Hard Achievement - Have a glass of wine before Walter Tusk enters Accept Walter's cigar offer Have tea after adjusting EPA Drink wine with Business Council Accept Kisha offer from Smolak f. accept Petr's offer of a glass of something Accept Alvarez's drink offer ["Are you drinking, Mr. President dialogue choice] Accept Walker's "stronger wine" As Romus:drink wine from Romus the Red Lose the pick wrong answers in a game with your Council to trigger taking shots Agree/accept Wiktor's Kisha offer (or something in between "I'll leave the smoking to the Queen Mother" dialogue choice High Tea with Beatrice.
• It's All All About The Money, Money Money (song) / A Money Must Be Funny In A Rich Man's World (song) Achievement - As Anton - accept bribe from Tusk, bribe Albin, bribe Frens, bribe Garaci As Romus, accept bribe from Rusty.
• Two Heads On A Platter Achievement - be assassinated (by Oligarchs / Bluds) as Anton; as Romus, when provoking revolutionists/militants with your speech to shoot you, than abdicating.
• "For the Oppressed!" Achievement - ban YS, assassinate Kesaro with SSP, impeach Hawker, capital punishment on Soll, denounce Su Omina and jail Rico under Rizia's custody.
• "They Rayne-diculously Tore Us, Toras!" Achievement - be infamous as Anton and Romus [low PO, low economy, negative budget, trigger Katarina/the red's Unrest Populace and fail to contain them as Anton; trigger violent protests in provinces and fail to unify Pales back to Rizia despite Vina's marriage to Axel].
• Two Coups and a Lie / Acquainted/Besties in Kyrute Achievement - trigger coup and exile in Kyrute with your families as Anton and Romus (fund Lucita/cops to be able to bring her with you!).
• Unjust Proceedings Achievement - defund military, join CSP, transfer Gendermarie to Interior despite being warned and jail Soll via Grecer, reinstate capital punishment [Valken Coup] As Romus, train much men from Turn 1 to 10, increase levies, execute Lucita (to trigger Taddeus coup) and prepare to be guillotined (epilogue).
• Bibliophile Women & Their Rubbish Books Achievement - defy / disgust over Monica reading Malenyevist/Valgish book; do not let Vina be sit-in to your Council and confiscate the book. Don't let her be a part of Council
• "In Loving Memories Of..." / "Any Father's Nightmare" / "The Burden That Fathers Bear" Achievement - As Anton, be strict/mean to Franc at every given turn and send Franc to military school but lose the war against Rumburg (Franc dies) As Romus: Go home instead of letting her dance with Manus. Lure her with approving Vina's relationship with Manus in one condition: Vina to Pales as liaison, do not jail Lucita for false flag, prepare for war and use assault strike than covert op (Vina dies)
• Torn & Betrayed / "Where Do Broken Hearts Go?" Achievement

As Anton:

1. Support Monica on Prologue.
2. Have shady deals (Monica is your primary leaker; when you and Serge/Petr watching FC Anrica game, they be lying down on the ground in protest against you)
3. Turn down Monica's speech
4. Apologize and let Curtan Leste continue his speech (make Monica helpless)
5. Outright gun WLA down. Say no, than showing support and vetoing WLA on later game. Don't fund Women's Committee 6)Let Monica divorce you. 6) Leak Monica's racy photos on epilogue

As Romus:

1. Be a Party Prince
2. Have ocassional affairs
3. Go to your other woman instead than attend Vina's birthday(?). Rushing as you go to Lena and she dies in your arms.

With Vina:

1. Be indifferent with Manus at every given turn
2. Do not let her dance with Manus
3. Disapprove her relationship with Manus
4. Arrest Manus with Golden Guard
5. Execute Manus

With Lucita

1. Kiss Lucita after playing a game with the Council, post-Wine event
2. Be in a relationship / Date Lucita
3. Break up with Lucita on later game

• Shame Isn't The Name of The Game Achievement -

1. As Anton, lose the war against Rumburg (Franc studying somewhere else)
2. As Romus, lose the war against Pales (Vina is not your liaison to Pales)

• Crucified In The Name Of Reformation Achievement - trigger a reform coup/ambush as Romus

Overall, what do you guys think? 🥹😅

I'm 19 now. I met my ex friend around 2 years ago? So when I was 17. He was a year younger.
Trigger warning: SI/SH/SA
My ex friend was a covert narcissist (a narcissist that hides under insecurity and a need for validation, while their abusive tendencies and lack of empathy remains the same.)
I stood up for him, so much. I tried to validate him, I tried to please him but it was never enough. Even though I’ve been abused twice by narcissists, I never saw it coming.
And the reason I didn't catch it, is because when we first met, he said he had autism. So I trusted him, because he said he was always honest, and because he blamed his toxic tendencies on autism. He seemed so sad, and I wanted to support him. I left friends for him, I stood up for him when people talked bad about him.
To be clear, I'm not being ableist towards autistic people. This is not because of him not understanding social cues or anything like that. The main reason why I left him was because he called himself the "worst kind of narcissist" and even after I told him that was offensive to victims of abuse he just said, “oh.” Like I'm not even joking that was his exact response.
And when I tried to help him (I thought he was gaslighting himself) and my followers who might feel the same way (by making posts about how victims can gaslight themselves into thinking they're the abuser, by talking about narcissism and my own experiences with abuse,) he got really mad and told me "I suspect I have NPD,” and “the only reason why you posted that was because of me, the mere fact that you posted that shows that you look down on me, you have been extremely rude blah blah blah.” Notice that I do not cite him feeling offended by the content of what I posted, because he never said anything about that at all. Is it possible? Sure. But I am sick of feeling like I have to read his mind, I know now that it’s because of his toxic behaviors and manipulation.
I left him after that because he knew I had trauma from abuse, and he’s never been sensitive to that throughout our entire friendship.
I’ll call my ex-friend narcissist to spare myself the drama if he ever finds out what I posted. (He has 30,000 followers online and most of our mutual friends openly sided with him.)
This was a pattern with him. The way he acted whenever he was corrected, it was never an apology, it was him or his friend changing the subject. Oftentimes instead of apologizing he would start to nitpick what others did, like calling others “bad at writing,” and saying stuff like “I'm a better writer than all of you!” These toxic traits are not intrinsic to autism, and are clearly narcissism, right?
I would bring up more examples but obviously I can’t remember them all.
Many of the things he would say were really offensive and degrading towards me, even in group chats, but he would hide it behind a “joke.” None of his friends defended me because they clearly enable him or just didn’t believe me when I say he treated me like sh*t.
But anyways, here are some of the wonderful things he’s said:
“KS” (he knew that I have struggled with MDD and sal ideation for a long time. And he even said it himself, “I shouldn’t say that, (my name) would actually do it.” And he didn’t stop after that. He says this as a joke to a lot of scidal people. I never thought he wouldn’t actually care if I did or not, because I never expected such blatant cruelty from anyone.)
“Your mom isn’t that bad.” (I talked about my experiences with abuse with him on multiple occasions. She puts on a smile and is nice to visitors but she has prevented me from going in-patient when I was actively s*cidal amongst other things. He knew that she basically allowed me to strve myself etc. while calling me “ungrateful” and “selfish” when I didn’t perform well enough in school due to the abuse.)
This next one is so clearly awful, that it’s actually funny that he thinks it was okay to say.
“Me and his mom <3” and “I miss your mom’s cooking so much.” (He said this in a group chat full of strangers to me. After I reminded him I was abused by her, he said, “hate the artist not the art.”)
“Get therapy!” (After I told him about my experience with sual trauma. He has some himself, so it’s possible he was triggered. But we had another mutual friend who would talk about that stuff and would talk about s and he never had a problem with it.)
“Ped*phile” (I used to have a crush on him,) (I’m only a year older, so 17-18) he thought this was a funny joke to make in a group chat full of strangers.
“I want your shirt. Take it off” (I said I'm not wearing anything underneath, and he said “I don’t see a problem with that.” That was in public, I barely knew him at that point.)
“I hate you” and many other things along those lines.
“Get a job!” And “be my sugar daddy” (again, in a group chat full of strangers. I couldn’t get a job due to my eczema which was oftentimes a 10 on the pain scale!)
Some of these things, I didn’t have a problem with back then, because I have never been treated well and didn’t have any sense of self-worth. So I never said anything about it and blamed myself for being "oversensitive"
His actions didn’t really ever show love for me, besides public hugs and affection. He would frequently respond to texts dryly and I just kept talking to him because I thought that was just his thing. I really did have a lot of love for him, but I realize now that that was just my desire for him to stop breadcrumbing me.
Much of my life was me viewing bullying and abuse as “they just struggle with showing that they care in healthy ways.” But the bullying would be things like “I bet she sits her wrists” and “you look like you’re on the verge of s*cide.” (While laughing, of course.)
He said it himself, that he was jealous of me and the fact that I was skinny and passed well as a pre-hormone therapy trans guy. We’re both trans. (I don’t know how people in this subreddit feel about that, but please separate your opinions on that from me. Please focus on the fact that we’re all victims of narcissistic abuse.)
I also have an eating disorder like him, and he would say stuff like “it can’t be as bad as mine because you're skinny.” And like… he knows my body image issues have to do with size and he would size up in public and make me feel short and small when he knew I was insecure about that. He made me feel worthless while calling me handsome in public!
While I was friends with him, the second I did anything that offended him or made him feel an “ick” he would be VERY aggressive about asserting his perspective and would not give any leniency to me.
Some of the things I did to give him the “ick” were jokes I made. I'm warning you though it's really weird and probably very out of place for this subreddit 😅
So I would draw things based on dumb memes like Sonic x Pikachu (as a joke, and he knew that it wasn't my idea, he saw the original meme.) I sent him a video once of like worms on a string bondage (it was a satire/skit not graphic/not like corn) when he asked for drawing ideas and he liked the video I sent him, so I drew his character like that and later he cites that as a reason why he avoided me. When he literally acted exactly the same when it happened and kept talking to me as normal. He also didn't like that I took a screenshot of something that was extremely unfortunate. Like on Instagram there's "notes" which is a new feature that shows everyone's notes lined up. And sometimes they end up next to each other in a very unfortunate way. Basically I had posted his dog's name in all caps 4 times, and my friend had posted "I wanna get him pregnant." (Not intentionally.) And you can guess how that went. Like he took that the wrong way but he never said anything and he acted the same way for months! And it wasn't his autism, because I did clarify that it was a joke, and he has literally no reason to believe that because I have always been a very open advocate for victims of SA, women's rights, like I've never once been that type of person. I literally stood up for him so many times because people called him a creep, I've left so many friends bc they bullied others (one friend was even being blamed for r*pe threats!) and he still “believed” that, knowing that.
And to be perfectly clear- this is what he said to me: “I was just icked out, I never thought you actually meant any of it," also "You seem to have calmed down a bit, and now I can enjoy my time with you even more than before!" But at the same time he was like "I avoided you" "I didn't want to be friends with you" and just he didn't give off a "maybe I misunderstood" impression. He gave off a "my way or the highway impression." I don't have the screenshots anymore because I deleted our chat, but I remember having a panic attack and thinking about s**cide afterwards. Whatever he said, he made me feel like such an awful, disgusting person.
He also said he thought I was “on something.” (I kinda was)
I was really medicated at the time, (around a year ago??) My meds made me both extremely tired and impulsive (trazodone and prozac.)
And to top it all off, he constantly said stuff like "I'm not a good person" and like?? Why would you think that's okay unless it's self deprication, unless you are an awful person (as I've realized recently.)
Like whenever he makes an offensive joke, it’s always “It’s just a harmless joke! Don’t be so sensitive” and whenever someone else does, he either ghosts you, avoids you, gives no hint about what you've done, or he treats you like you’re the worst person in the world and he’s giving you God's grace by telling you what you did wrong. He also makes a lot of "I'm a god" "I'm an angel" type jokes. I thought it was sarcasm before but honestly after this?
The kinds of things I would do were heavily influenced by him and our mutual friend group's behavior. I copied what they did because I had little to no social experience due to bullying and isolation. I literally never had friends before I turned 17. Save for maybe one. (Who I also kept at a distance because I was s***dal and didn't want to hurt them when I followed through.)
And back to the most recent thing he did (which gave me a panic attack and landed me in a psych ward)
The way he approached me about the posts about narcissism I made to help him and others was so accusatory and passive aggressive. (This was after the "worst kind of narcissist joke) Then his friend texted the GC saying “(my name) check your dms” so another act of passive aggression. This friend was the main enabler who’s logic honestly makes no sense to me. She’s like, “it’s fine for him to make that joke, it’s not his job to come out about having narcissism if he doesn't want to, blah blah blah, diagnoses are hard to get.” Like genuinely wtf. Dropping the f slur in the closet is not okay just because you're secretly gay. Like don't make jokes about things you're not willing to be out about. Okay and even ignoring that, it's still so fcking offensive even if he is a narcissist because that’s like a pedfile joking about abusing children.
And the fact he just said “oh.” after I told him it was offensive. Not “I suspect I have npd” or “I'm sorry that was insensitive.” His response was so vague, a blatant lack of effort and empathy, and genuinely I don't think someone with NPD who actually is trying to change would do that.
Then his friend started following me! Not as an act of friendliness, as a social threat, clearly, as they’ve already established a pattern of passive aggression.
It was clear, that if I removed her as a follower or blocked her I would be the one that looked bad! The same way it would look if I said “huh, I haven’t gotten any dms from you” after she said “hey (my name), check your dms” bc I could have deleted it in requests. Then she could say I was a liar. I was starting to get triggered the second she began blindly defending and making excuses for (narcissist) in the groupchat.
She then began to stalk my story, and when she got to the post about how I wouldn’t be able to go to the convention with them (I didn’t say it, but I was so triggered that I was planning on going to the psych ward!) she sent me the skull and crossbones emoji, which, if you're older, is a laughing emoji to this generation. (Meaning dead from laughter.)
Because of the timing of the follow, I know that (narcissist) has been talking shit. Also because they’re best friends and that's what they do. So I know for a fact now, that his last text “right okay,” was sarcasm. And I block all of them.
One of our mutual friends, who I will call (Redacted) was someone I used to talk to almost daily! (Redacted) unfollows me on tiktok, so I block them too.
I block most associated with the group chat, because as far as I know they don't care about me, they've never texted me or spoken to me before, and they’ve almost always ignored my texts to the group chat anyways. They’re also (narcissist)’s friends, and never stood up for me when it came to his behavior in the GC, and were for the most part silent and praising of him.
Like, genuinely, I'm pretty sure (redacted) saw my private posts about my “I feel so unsafe, I want to die, I want to die.” And they still valued whatever (narcissist) said over me. All that talk about “Ily pooks” and shit was a lie.
For additional context (I know this is getting really long, I'm sorry, I just don’t want to leave any room for people victim-blaming me.)
I also struggle with depression-linked psychosis. Something I also fear he will use against me if I ever come out about his treatment of me publicly (but here we are.) My diagnosis doesn’t necessarily include "breaks from reality" and "not being able to tell what's real and what's not." Psychosis occurs in varying intensities. For me, it's mostly depressive hallucinations and I can tell that they aren't real. Many of my hallucinations are auditory and I have never allowed that to impact the way I viewed or treated others in real life, even if they said horrible things to me. They cause me anxiety but it is manageable for me.
It was steadily getting better for me before they decided to do this shit to me! Now I'm worse off than before, hallucinating daily, while he’s living the life of his dreams, and getting famous online.
He refuses to take accountability and that is a form of manipulation. It works for him. To act stupid and act like he can't empathize. He does it whenever he makes a mistake. He starts nitpicking someone else's behavior no matter the impact it has on others. My issue with them is not just what they did, it’s the fact that they want to socially threaten others into doing their bidding. Like, they didn’t have to bring the group chat into it. They didn’t have to be passive aggressive. They didn’t have to be so accusatory and it doesn’t matter if they have trust issues because honestly they were being a massive dick to someone who was always on their side from day one. (Not anymore!)
What happened to him was “I feel insecure because I think he’s calling me stupid.” So he basically called me an asshole, told me I was being rude, etc. etc. What happened to me though? I attempted twice. I don’t handle gaslighting well. That’s how I was abused. And I’m sick of people telling me it’s not his fault for taking advantage of my lack of self-worth, for taking advantage of someone who he knew to be vulnerable. I’m sick of hearing that I just need to “get therapy” and that I'm “equally as bad” or even that “I'm being overdramatic” etc. They made me relive my trauma from bullying to the point where I was hallucinating almost all-day every day, about them bullying me in the same ways I was bullied back then. I would constantly hear their voices making fun of me, bullying me, etc., or them planning to pull up at my house and attempt vandalism (another trauma that I have.) I have not stopped hallucinating him and his friends to this day. This impacts my ability to eat, sleep, and work. It’s literally torture. And I can hear him right now, saying “well, that's not my fault.” Like yes it is. Believe it or not you’re not entitled to treating your (ex) friends like shit just because you have NPD.
The really bad hallucinations started after everything was over. They don't impact my ability to recall events because again most of my hallucinations are auditory.
Honestly I'm just sick of this crap. If you made it this far, I really appreciate the time you’ve spent reading this.
I'm really tired of the victim blaming honestly

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

(continuation of part 3)
Since Fatal Calling is all about Cloud facing his past and his origins, Tifa’s musical theme is most appropriate for the ending cutscene. For all of these reasons, Tifa’s theme is absolutely appropriate for the conclusion of Fatal Calling. It makes a lot of sense then that once Cloud has finished revisiting the past and vanishes with the crystal to find his Promised Land, Tifa’s theme stops and Aerith’s theme begins.
There’s a lot to be said about Sephiroth in Fatal Calling. Sephiroth feeds off of despair, and deems Palamecia’s suffering inadequate: he seeks a much greater source of power than this realm. He states that Palamecia isn’t “the world that was promised to [him]”, referencing his desire to become the god of his core world of FFVII:

“Sephiroth: Melding with the planet, I will cease to exist as I am now only to be reborn as a ‘god’ to rule over every soul” (FFVII OG, disk 1, chapter 25).

Sephiroth’s line “Now, let us return [Cloud]. Back to the Promised Land” reveals he wants to return to their shared core world of FFVII, like we established in our review of the Remake timelines theory (see section “I. a) vii.”). Sephiroth wants to go back to FFVII and modify the OG timeline to achieve his evil goals. This is his ideal scenario, his place of complete happiness: his desired Promised Land. Fatal Calling is setting up Sephiroth’s plans for Remake. In fact, the after-credits scene wherein Sephiroth stands in Nibelheim as it burns confirms his return to the FFVII OG timeline.
However, he isn’t the only one returning. Now that Cloud has revisited his past in Fatal Calling, he’s ready to reach his Promised Land. After Sephiroth’s after-credits scene, the OG FFVII title and logo turn into the FFVII Remake title and logo, indicating a shift: we are now officially in the Remakeera or world. Cloud and Sephiroth disappeared at the end of Fatal Calling, and now the game is telling us where they’ve gone. Combined with Hamaguchi’s recommendation that players complete the collaboration event before playing Remake, I think this is a solid indication that the Cloud and Sephiroth we see in this collaboration event are those we encounter in the Remake world. Once the switch to Remake occurs, Aerith’s theme returns. This communicates that she is indeed —as we’ve proven countless times already— Cloud’s Promised Land. But it also conveys her importance to the story of Remake. Scenario writer Nojima confirmed this:

“Aerith's the most important character in the remake so we paid special attention to her lines” (FFVII Remake Ultimania, section 08 “Secrets”, “Development Staff Interviews, Part 2: Tetsuya Nomura, Yoshinori Kitase, Kazushige Nojima”, page 744).

Aerith was already important to OG, so what could’ve motivated Nojima to state her importance to Remake? Could it be that she’s even more important in the latter than she was in the former? In what way?
That was the collaboration! Before we move on from MFF x FFVII Remake entirely though, let’s glean some more relevant information from some of the collaboration’s promotional material and special features.
III. e) iii. Promotional Material and Special Features
Two particular pieces of promotional material for this collaboration stick out to me as extremely relevant. The first is a promotion for a new summons batch in the Mobius FF game, created in honor of the collaboration.
MFF x FFVII Remake Summons Batch Cloud Promo
The summons batch contains three FFVII Remake-themed cards, including a Cloud card. As you can see, this promo reads “Who awaits in the Promised Land?” under Cloud’s picture.
The second is a promotion of an Aerith and summons and an Aerith Job Card (in MFF, Job Cards allow a character to embody an archetype or another character, giving them certain physical traits, clothing, weapons and abilities):
MFF x FFVII Remake Aerith Summons and Job Card Promo
I couldn’t find this picture in English, but the text relevant to us translates to:

“Midgar's Flower Vendor Summons
‘I'm searching for you. I want to meet… you.’
The witch protects the planet, imbues it with power, and leads to the Promised Land.”

A few things here. First, Aerith is referenced by name, and we see a picture of her in her famous praying pose. Secondly, both Cloud and Aerith’s images are attached to the notion of the Promised Land. Cloud’s card asks who awaits there, and Aerith’s evokes a guiding role, as though in response. Thirdly, both Cloud and Aerith are attached to the notion of searching: Cloud searches for the Promised Land and whomever awaits there, and Aerith searches for Cloud’s true self. Speaking of which, the promo also includes parts of Aerith’s famous gondola date quote from OG:

“Aeris: I'm searching for you.
Cloud: …?
Aeris: I want to meet you.
Cloud: But I'm right here.
Aeris: I know, I know... what I mean is... I want to meet... you” (disk 1 chapter 24).

In case you’re wondering about the lady in Aerith’s clothes on the left-hand side, that’s Meia, a character in MFF. She is the “witch” being referred to in the promotional material. She’s often called the Azure Witch. Meia is wearing Aerith’s clothes because a Meia-type Job Card called “Flower Girl of Midgar” was created in honor of the MFF x FFVII Remake collaboration:
MFF x FFVII Remake \"Flower Girl of Midgar\" Job Card
There’s even an Aerith outfit you can have Echo wear, and it appears with Wol’s Cloud outfit in the promotional picture:
MFF x FFVII Remake Echo's Aerith Outfit and Wol's Cloud Outfit
To be fair, Tifa also appears in one of these summons promos. However, unlike Aerith’s, her appearance doesn’t reference the Promised Land or her version of the gondola date. She is not presented in connection to Cloud at all. On top of that, while the Aerith and Cloud outfits are promoted together, Tifa is paired with Vincent in the promotional image:
MFF x FFVII Remake Summons Promo Tifa and Vincent
This is hardly indicative of Cloti content in the event collaboration or in Remake.
III. e) iv. Cloud’s Promised Land
All in all, the collaboration tells the story of Cloud searching for his Promised Land, just as post-OG Cloud has been shown doing for years and years of canon SE content. Cloud is searching for Aerith in the MFF x FFVII Remake collaboration, just like he was in FFT and DFF, and just like he was shown doing in the 30th FF Anniversary Exposition. This is nothing new. However, the collaboration informs us that this mission to be reunited with Aerith is what leads Cloud to enter the world of Remake.
Echo noted that people obtain the Promised Land they deserve rather than the one they want. What does Cloud deserve? I believe the answer is: another chance at saving Aerith.
Cloud needs to start over, from the top. He needs to go back to the very moment he and Avalanche arrived at mako reactor 1 to bomb it. He needs to return to the beginning of the OG game. He needs a redo, a fix-it, another shot at happiness; a remake.

IV. The Hidden Plot Point: Mission Theory

a) Thesis
Here lies the heart of my theory. My dear Cleriths, Sephiroth isn’t the only one who travelled back in time to undo destiny and create a reality where things go his way: Remake is also —I would even say primarily— Cloud’s chance to free Aerith from her fate, save her life and secure his shot at happiness with her. That’s why he experiences MOTFs in Remake: he’s done FFVII before and now he’s back, although with only fragments of his memories from OG, to save Aerith. That’s why his triggers all involve Aerith: he doesn’t consciously remember anything from OG, but his grief over Aerith is so strong that it rises from his subconsciousness at the slightest trigger.
In Remake, Cloud remembers some but not all elements of the OG timeline (MOTFs), and it appears he only remembers the most important things: all his MOTFs revolve around Aerith and her fate. Our theory explains why Aerith triggers Cloud’s MOTFs in Remake quite perfectly: he traveled back in time to prevent Aerith’s death from happening. Remake Cloud remembers Aerith because, well, he knows her from OG. Post-OG Cloud has returned to the past to save Aerith, resulting in Remake. This is why seeing her in Remake triggers visions and memories of things that haven’t happened yet in Remake, but have already happened to post-OG Cloud. He recognizes her face on Loveless in Remake because seeing her face again is the whole reason he entered Remake in the first place. His visions of her death when they meet once more at the church, the spike of anxiety and grief as he watches her walk away from him, the constriction in his chest when she talks about doing everything in her power to help the planet… all of it, it’s all his memories of OG being jogged by things related to her death. What he’s forgotten from the OG timeline emerges in flashes of pain, images, memory and emotion. Remember that the language the devs used to describe these instances where Cloud reacts to Aerith in this way is always about “remembering” or “recognizing”; Cloud has to have seen Aerith, known Aerith, loved Aerith, lost Aerith and felt the pain of living without Aerith before in order to recognize and remember these feelings. Think about it: this is the only thing that can explain Cloud’s extremely selective MOTFs and the fact that he has MOTFs at all.
The Remake trilogy is all about Cloud and Sephiroth stepping into the ring one more time, both ready to risk it all to get what they lost in the OG timeline. Sephiroth is hungry for destruction and godhood, while Cloud stands determined to save the love of his life. Fighting for their respective goals, the fated enemies enter a new battle in Remake, one to end the war, both needing to win this time after losing so horribly in OG. Now, it’s all or nothing. Sephiroth vying for the planet, and Cloud reaching out for Aerith.
Cloud’s back with a quest, one he can’t fail— it’s the most secret and important plot point of all. I call this the “Mission Theory”.
IV. b) Mission Theory Logistics
There are a few things that remain vague, so I’m going to use this section of the analysis to speculate on the logistics of my theory. We know very little about the hows of the timeline and multiverse shenanigans, so I’m going to hypothesize. However, this analysis is about the whys: so if you’re not interested in mechanical speculation on the logistics of time travel and multiverses, you can totally disregard this section and skip to section “V.”.
IV. b) i. Cloud the Time-Traveler?
It’s unclear whether Remake is the result of post-OG Cloud going back in time to try his hand at the OG timeline again, or the result of post-OG Cloud somehow informing OG Cloud that he must save Aerith this time around. It’s vague in the same way that we aren’t sure if Remake Aerith is post-OG Aerith or if she’s been informed by post-OG Aerith via her connection to the Lifestream as a Cetra. Though it doesn’t much matter how Cloud has memories of Aerith’s death in Remake, I personally think that Remake Cloud is a time-traveling post-OG Cloud. My explanation as to why might be a little confusing, so again, feel free to skip to section “V.”.
One must be able to communicate with the Lifestream in order to obtain knowledge of the future. This access can only be granted to the Cetra or to the souls of the deceased that compose the Lifestream itself. Since Cloud is not a Cetra, he cannot commune with the Lifestream while he is alive, meaning a deceased post-OG Cloud would not have been able to communicate his memories of the OG plot-line with a living OG Cloud. Therefore, the only way Remake Cloud could have knowledge of the future (manifested as MOTFs) would be that Remake Cloud is inhabited by his post-OG consciousness. Effectively, this is time-traveling.
Then comes the question of how Cloud was able to time-travel at all. I have what I consider a pretty solid hypothesis. The most interesting thing about the realm of Palamecia is that every FF character that’s ever appeared in the realm for a cameo died in their core world beforehand (spoilers for FFI, FFV, FFVI, FFX, FFXII, FFXIII, FFXV incoming). These characters include Tidus (FFX), Lightning (FFXIII), Garland (FFI), Sephiroth (FFVII), Gilgamesh (FFV), Vargas (FFVI), Gabranth (FFXII) and Ultros (FFXV). My interpretation of Palamecia serves at least partly as a directory for deceased souls that can’t simply fade. For instance, FFX’s Tidus actually came back to life to be with his love>! Yuna !! FFX!<. Of course, MFF x>! FFX !!FFX!< and FFX-2, just like MFF x FFVII Remake came out between FFVII OG and FFVII. And similarly to Fatal Calling, the ending cutscene of MFF x>! FFX !!Next thing you know, FFX-2 comes out and shows Tidus returning to Yuna and their core world in an optional cutscene.!< The MFF x>! FFX !! Tidus !Remake.
IV. b) ii. Post-OG Cloud’s Amnesia
If we consider that Remake Cloud is a time-travelling post-OG Cloud who’s returned to the start of the OG timeline, we encounter another logistical problem: why doesn’t Cloud remember everything or most things from the OG plot-line in Remake, like Sephiroth and Remake Aerith do? After all, aren’t the three of them in the same time-travelling boat? Why isn’t Cloud as lucid on the matter as the two others? Didn’t the post-OG Cloud in Fatal Calling face his past and origins? Shouldn’t that mean Cloud would remember all that stuff in Remake from the start?
In OG, the true Cloud’s memories are repressed by both his false persona and Jenova. The latter’s memetic abilities are able to block Cloud’s memories of the past from emerging and conflicting with his SOLDIER persona. For instance, in both OG and Remake, Cloud is unable to hear Aerith tell him Zack’s name in Evergreen Park: Jenova blocks it out. I think this is a similar situation: post-OG Cloud’s consciousness carries memories things that Jenova doesn’t want Cloud to know, so she pushes down on them. On top of that, after travelling through different worlds and back through the Lifestream for who knows how long, post-OG Cloud’s consciousness must be quite weak. We know how good Cloud is at repressing, so it makes total sense to me that post-OG Cloud’s consciousness would be trapped or suppressed somewhere deep in Remake Cloud’s subconsciousness. After all, it’s not like this whole time-travelling-consciousness thing is normal for a mind to experience. It’s no wonder Remake Cloud doesn’t consciously remember how things go in OG. However, post-OG Cloud’s love and grief for Aerith are so strong that memories related to her can occasionally pierce through to his Remake consciousness and Jenova’s barriers, resulting in his MOTFs. His pain and love for her are definitely permanent and strong enough:

“A young woman descended from the Ancients who will forever be engraved in [Cloud’s] heart” (Dirge of Cerberus, Japanese manual, Aerith’s character description).
“I believe for those who formerly traveled with her as comrades and for the viewers, each carries their own feelings and love for Aerith. In this story, Cloud also carries his own undying feelings for Aerith, even to this very day… Its relation with the church scene is… Yup. I’ll leave this part to your imagination. (laughs)” (Nomura interview on Advent Children “Designer’s Note” in *Famitsu PS2!*magazine, October 24th issue).

So you see, Remake Cloud’s mind is a little more complicated than OG Cloud’s mind. Everything is still the same in Remake as in OG, but with the added complication that his future self is hidden in his subconscious mind, probably trying to get out.
There is actually pretty good evidence of this. I’m sure you’re aware that whenever Jenova is trying to hide something from Cloud or altering his memory and/or perception, the screen glitches green with an audio cue (34:15-34:29, 1:15:30-1:15:41 and 1:17:14-1:17:29). Guess what? These Jenova audiovisual cues also occur during the MOTFs (ie: MOTF 3 2:58-3:07 and MOTF 4 0:29-0:42). Whenever post-OG Cloud’s consciousness encounters anything that reminds it of losing Aerith, the strength of its pain helps it push memories of Aerith to the surface so that RemakeCloud can consciously see them. Remake Cloud then experiences sensations and/or visions, all from his future self’s memories as they rise to the surface, propelled by grief. Jenova can’t allow Remake Cloud to fully recover his post-OG memory, so in order to shut down the process, its cells jump in to repress the MOTFs: this results in the classic Jenova audiovisual cues. The only time Jenova doesn’t bother to fight against a MOTF is the sixth, as it is quite weak: no visions occur, only a tight sensation in his chest.
IV. b) iii. Eclipse Contact and Cloud’s Memories of Reactor 1
There is one problem I have trouble decoding. In Eclipse Contact, Cloud tells Wol and Echo that the last thing he remembers is the run-up to his arrival at mako reactor 1 (FFVII OG, disk 1, chapter 1). Recall that usually, people summoned to Palamecia have no memories of their world of origin and lives before that point at all. So then why is it that upon being summoned to Palamecia, Cloud recalls the events that took place right before the start of the OG game? This strikes me as highly relevant since this is the exact point in time where post-OG Cloud’s consciousness needs to be transported to in order for Remake to begin, but I haven’t been able to figure out a solid hypothesis on what it could mean. My best guess is that this is the devs’ way of signalling to us that the events of the MFF x FFVII Remake collaboration occur before the very beginning of post-OG Cloud’s second try at the OG timeline (Remake).
Now that I’ve shown you how I’ve come to form my Mission Theory and we’ve done some pesky housekeeping, let’s connect some dots, shall we? It’s time to really get into it and see if any of my wild speculation tracks with content from the Remake trilogy so far.

V. Musical Evidence

What about the music of the game? Any hints there? Let’s try to see if we can find support for the Mission Theory in the music made for the Remake trilogy thus far!
As a preface to my musical evidence analysis, I want to insist on something: the story guys tell the soundtrack guys everything. In a high-quality production such as Remake, people who make music for audiovisual media are told everything in advance. They need to know the secrets of every little scene, because their job is to depict whatever is happening through music.
Therefore, if the Mission Theory is true, then there has to be musical evidence for it.
V. a) Preface: The Basics of the FFVII OST
There’s a lot of evidence in the music of the Remake trilogy that we have to address, but before we get into it, I do have to give you the basics of the FFVII soundscape! For the easiest experience, I suggest you keep a tab open for every link I provide for you until the music analysis is over, because we will be hopping from one musical theme to another and then back again.
V. a) i. The World Theme: Cloud’s Troubled Identity
The world theme of FFVII is a perfect example of how musicians working on an OST have to know the secrets of a story as they compose for it. On top of representing the FFVII world as a whole, it doubles as Cloud’s character theme… except that isn’t exactly right. You see, this piece does indeed contain Cloud’s true theme, but Sephiroth and Jenova’s musical motifs also contaminate it. This, of course, symbolizes how Cloud experiences identity sabotage because of these two antagonists. The result is that globally, the world theme does indeed represent Cloud’s character, but it isn’t exclusively Cloud’s in the same way that Cloud’s mind isn’t exclusively his. It’s brilliant storytelling through musical motifs, and evidently requires Uematsu to know in advance that Sephiroth manipulates Cloud’s identity in the story.
For future reference, let’s isolate Cloud’s true theme from Jenova and Sephiroth’s influence.
V. a) i. 1) Sephiroth: Dissonance and Semi-Tone Motif
I’m sure you know Sephiroth’s infamous theme: “One-Winged Angel”. The first motif we need to know is Sephiroth’s threatening, repetitive dissonance motif, which plays all throughout the piece (plays solo at 0:00 to 0:04). The second motif is what I call the semi-tone motif. “One-Winged Angel” has a ton of minor 2nd intervals, which is what we call the relationship between two notes that are only a semi-tone apart. You might recognize the minor 2nd interval in the foreboding Jaws theme. Just like in Jaws, the minor 2nd interval or semi-tone is commonly used to indicate an impending, life-threatening danger, a monster, predator, evil, or insanity; suits Sephiroth quite nicely!
V. a) i. 2) Jenova: Parasite Motif
The track “J-E-N-O-V-A” contains many competing melodies and has generated many variations of those melodies —almost like clones— that all represent aspects of the alien’s character. The main Jenova motif is simply a descending, two-octaves-long, arpeggiated mb6 chord (eight notes total). I’ve played it for you here. Sometimes, this motif is altered to form variations. For instance, in “Listen to the Cries of the Planet”, a variation of Jenova’s main motif is created by changing the order of the notes and reducing the number of notes to only six (0:00-0:03), however, it remains an arpeggiated mb6 chord. Regardless of the alteration, if you hear an arpeggiated mb6 chord, it means Jenova is creeping close by or that its influence is at work.
The variation of the mb6 arpeggiated chord that concerns us alters Jenova’s main theme so it ascends from the tonic to the b6 note and descends back to the tonic, then ending on the lower dominant for a total of eight notes. I’ve played it for you here. I call this variation the “parasite motif”, because it is often heard when Cloud is being controlled by Jenova. For instance, it plays when Cloud loses himself and becomes unusually violent in Rebirth’s chapter 13 (17:25-18:34), signalling to us that Jenova is in control. It is also the main motif of the track “Who… Am I?”, which evidently symbolizes Jenova’s fuelling of Cloud’s identity crisis— though here, the parasite motif is shortened to its six first notes.
V. a) i. 3) Cloud’s True Self
Now that we can recognize Sephiroth and Jenova’s motifs, let’s return to the world theme to isolate Cloud’s true self. Cloud’s true theme can be heard from 0:51 to 3:48. It consists of a section A (0:51-1:54), followed by a section B (1:54-2:41), and then returns to section A (2:41-3:48).
After Cloud’s true theme concludes however, it seems he experiences a psychic interference: doubt and confusion weave through the world theme (3:48-4:09), representing an instability in his identity. I call this interruption of Cloud’s true theme the “interference section”. It symbolizes a moment of psychic interference or weakness within Cloud that Sephiroth and Jenova take advantage of to take control of Cloud.
The end of the interference section introduces Jenova’s parasite motif. It slithers in (4:09), later joined by Sephiroth’s dissonance motif (4:16): Cloud’s mind and identity are being hijacked by the two antagonists in service of their evil plans.
They torment Cloud, dominating his mind until he manages to free himself: section A of Cloud’s true theme begins playing again (6:06), closing the loop of the theme.
Based on this musical storytelling, if you already knew the character motifs going into OG, you might’ve suspected something odd was going on with Cloud’s identity, and that Jenova and Sephiroth were involved. All this to say that whatever music is playing at any given time can give us hints as to what is going on. That’s the power and significance of a good soundtrack. Trust me when I say that with Uematsu and his team, we’re in excellent hands. And remember: the story guys tell the soundtrack guys everything.
V. a) ii. Aerith’s Theme
Another base we have to cover before checking out the Remake soundtrack is Aerith’s theme. I’m sure everyone here is familiar with it, but I insist that you refresh your memory. It consists of a section A (0:00-0:34), a section B (0:34-1:13) and a section C (1:13-2:00), concluding with a repeat of section A.
V. a) iii. Motifs and Timing in FFVII OSTs
I’m going to analyze pieces in great detail, which people who haven’t studied or paid attention to soundtracks may find strange. To prevent anyone from making the mistake of thinking that I’m reading too much into things, I want to emphasize that the music that plays during the Remaketrilogy’s cutscenes is carefully timed, composed and arranged to match the events in the cutscenes, as they are provided in advance to the musicians. Composers pay lots of attention to whatever is going on onscreen so they can include the corresponding musical motifs as accompaniment at the exact right moments, always striving to get the timing perfect. I’m not exaggerating the effort and minutia involved in soundtrack composition and arrangement. Here are just a few sound staff comments from the “Material 4: Soundtrack” section of the FFVII Remake Material Ultimania to prove it:

“[To] make sure players really feel the weight of the moment, we worked hard on getting the tempo and the entry timing of each instrument exactly right. In particular, that big ‘boom’ that sounds almost like a meteor crashing down was fine-tuned to match the timing of the logo's appearance. I remember this was a real sticking point for us, because if the boom's timing was even slightly off, the effect would be completely different. We […] had to sequence [each and every sound] to play at exactly the right moment” (Shotaro Shima on track “Midgar, City of Mako”, page 229).

&

“I was originally told to keep this piece to under two minutes, but it ended up being over six minutes long, in order to match the flow of the cutscene. I arranged the track while watching the latest CG visuals that had been rendered for the scene” (Naoyuki Honzawa on track “Smash ‘Em, Rip ‘Em”, page 309).

&

“This is the track that plays during the tour of Shinra’s different divisions. The movie shown in the Visual Entertainment Hall describes the history of the Ancients (0:25 onward in the soundtrack version), and I wanted to create a musical link to them as well, so I made use of the chord progression from ‘Aerith’s Theme’ [D(I)-Am(Vm)-D(I).] [This simple sequence of moving from major to minor and back again creates a really mysterious air. Then, during the section where the movie recounts the history of the construction of the Shinra Building (1:47 onward in the soundtrack version), I quoted a section of the Shinra theme” (Yasunori Nishiki on track “Stewards of the Planet”, page 313).

V. b) The Remake OST
Now that you’re ready, it’s time to verify the Mission Theory’s validity with Remake’s music.
V. b) i. MOTF 6 Music
We were able to explain Remake Cloud’s MOTFs with the Mission Theory, and it just so happens that the music that plays during the scene of MOTF 6 is unique to Remake. This gives us the perfect opportunity: we should analyze the piece that plays as it occurs to evaluate the legitimacy of our theory on the Remake trilogy, using all the motifs we uncovered in section “V. a)”.
First, a refresher on the scene and on our theory’s interpretation of it. The party is gathered in Aerith and Ifalna’s old room at Shinra HQ. Here is how the scene is described by the VA script notes:

“The Whispers once again close in [on Aerith], but Aerith refuses to stop speaking this time.
Aerith: Listen to me. […] Shinra isn’t the enemy. They were the ones who set things in motion, but our true foe is someone else.
At that moment, the spectacle of Meteor they saw in the Visual Entertainment Hall comes into Cloud and the others’ heads.
Aerith: Somehow, some way, I want to help— all of you… the planet…
For some reason, Cloud feels his chest constrict tightly” (FFVII Remake Material Ultimania Plus, VA script notes, “Aerith Speaks”).

Indeed, right after Aerith says she wants to help the planet any way she can, Cloud looks down at his chest with a frown and a quiet grunt (7:46-7:54). According to the Mission Theory, this tightness in Cloud’s chest can be explained as an emergence of post-OG Cloud’s grief, triggered by the slightest allusion to Aerith’s sacrifice.
The piece that plays during this scene is called “Aerith’s Theme - The Cetra”. It is one of many variations of Aerith’s iconic theme arranged for Remake. However, Cloud’s theme is just as prominent in the piece— if not, more.
V. b) i. 1) The Fate Motif
Before we interpret “Aerith’s Theme - The Cetra”, I need to introduce you to one more motif that crops up in the piece. There is a windy motif that appears (from 1:45 onwards) and it is unaccounted for, despite how it’s clearly meant to represent something. I’ve become certain that this wind noise symbolizes fate, and I’ll tell you why.
In the MOTF 6 scene, just after Nanaki explains how he gained knowledge of the Whispers via contact with Aerith (7:23), they emerge and begin swirling aggressively around Aerith (7:26). Her hair and dress blow and ripple in the resulting wind. From this very moment onward “Aerith’s Theme - The Cetra” (3:00), a string section (bowed instruments in the violin family) that deliberately emphasizes the airy sound of the bow crossing the strings enters, creating a windy effect that adds to the already present wind noise (that started at 1:45). As the Whispers progressively become even more aggressive onscreen, both the wind SFX of the cutscene and the wind noise in the piece get louder and louder. Because of the timing of its appearance and crescendo in the cutscene, I’m certain the wind noise is meant to represent the restrictive flow of fate; it only makes sense, given that destiny is a current —or a wind— that cannot be broken, and Aerith is like a helpless petal in fate’s carefully planned storm. Of course, it’s also quite significant that the Whispers make a windy noise as they fly. You can hear it every time they’re onscreen, like when they first appear to Cloud in chapter 2 of Remake (17:45-18:20), or when the White Whispers hold Cloud back from chasing after Aerith during Rebirth’s Sleeping Forest scene in chapter 14 (28:43-29:45). You can also hear the wind sounds in other Whisper-related tracks, such as “Whorl of Whispers” (clearly audible at 2:50-3:05), as well as “A Death Not Ordained by Fate” (clearly audible at 2:56-3:18). Therefore, I’ll call these wind noises the “fate motif”.
V. b) ii. 2) Interpreting “Aerith’s Theme - The Cetra”
In part 1 of “Aerith’s Theme - The Cetra” (0:00-1:45), Aerith’s theme and Cloud’s true theme play simultaneously, their respective phrases fitting perfectly together, interweaving peacefully and softly. It sounds like the two of them are chatting, dancing bashfully yet contently and in perfect sync, glad to be exactly where they’re meant to be as their themes sing together in harmony (soft piano). Part 1 of this piece is about Cloud and Aerith becoming important to one another as they discover their soulmate bond.
Unfortunately that contentment doesn’t last. In part 2 (1:45-3:00), Cloud experiences a moment of psychic vulnerability (world theme’s interference section). Fate lurks (fate motif enters quietly). His instability forces our couple’s sweet dance to a halt, and Aerith’s theme must retreat as Cloud’s confusion takes center stage. Sephiroth torments and taunts him (semi-tone played by strings, 2:03-2:10), taking advantage of Cloud’s psychic interference to plunge him into darkness (world theme’s interference section ends, low cello enters, 2:18): Cloud temporarily becomes a darker version of himself as evil corrupts him (piano plays section A phrases 1 and 2 of Cloud’s true theme in minor, 2:18-2:53). Jenova finally reveals itself and promptly exits, releasing Cloud’s mind from its grasp (seven first notes of parasite motif played twice on piano 2:53-3:00). Cloud is free, but the damage has been done: his dance with Aerith has long been interrupted, and she is gone. Part 2 of “Aerith’s Theme - The Cetra” is about Cloud being manipulated in service of Sephiroth and Jenova’s evil plan, interrupting his interaction with Aerith.
Part 3 (3:00-3:33) kicks off the mechanisms of a tragic fate (strings section joins fate motif, 3:00). Both anxious that she’s disappeared from his side and terrified of the darkness he just discovered inside him (in part 2), Cloud fearfully calls out for Aerith (phrase 1 of Cloud’s true theme’s section A, timid and hesitant piano, 3:04-3:15). Before his psychic interference began (start of part 2), Cloud’s voice was accompanied by Aerith’s as they grew closer and closer (their character themes mingling in part 1)… but now, Aerith isn’t answering his call, and he cannot find her (Aerith’s theme doesn’t to join Cloud’s anymore).
Anxious, Cloud tries calling out for Aerith a second time (section A phrase 2 of Cloud’s true theme’s, 3:19-3:31), searching for her in the hopes that they can continue their dance, but even now, Aerith does not respond. She’s gone (Aerith’s theme remains absent). Destiny keeps Aerith away from Cloud (fate motif gently crescendos). Part 3 of “Aerith’s Theme - The Cetra” is about Cloud’s separation from Aerith, his search for her, and the fear and anxiousness he feels when he realizes he cannot find her.
And then, part 4 begins with a sweet, gentle voice, calling out from the blackened horizon: it’s Aerith (section B phrase 1 of Aerith’s theme, soft piano, 3:33-3:45). Cloud finally hears her respond to his pleas: he’s found her. Fate begins howling in protest, doubling its efforts to keep Cloud and Aerith apart (fate motif crescendos noticeably in reaction to Aerith’s theme, 3:45). You can just picture Cloud running toward Aerith, struggling against the current of destiny to try and close the distance between them. Aerith tries calling out for Cloud a second time, (section B phrase 2 of Aerith’s theme, 3:40-3:43), but the Whispers only swirl around her more ferociously, taking her away in the uncompromising current of fate (fate motif continues to crescendo). Aerith tries again (section B phrase 1 of Aerith’s theme, 3:47-3:49). It sounds like she’s saying “Cloud, I’m over here, come find me!”
Fate doesn’t take too kindly to her defying it. Cloud and Aerith are not supposed to be together; it can’t be, it won’t. She’s destined to die to save the planet, and he’s destined to remain hollow forevermore. I can picture Cloud breaking into a sprint at the sound of her voice, running countercurrent to the flow of destiny— but the winds are so loud, fate’s demands are so strong, and the Whispers are shrieking in defense of destiny now. Aerith’s voice emerges for the fourth time (first three notes of section B phrase 3 of Aerith’s theme, 3:54 to 3:56). Fate screams louder, louder (steep crescendo of fate motif, 3:59-4:02). In a desperate hail Mary, Aerith shouts out one more time, as though throwing her hand out toward Cloud’s extended fingers (section C phrase 1 of Aerith’s theme, louder and more insistent, cutting through the fate motif as it crescendos sharply, 4:00-4:06). Part 4 of “Aerith’s Theme - The Cetra” is about Cloud and Aerith desperately trying to defy fate in order to be together. And then, it all stops: fate has seemingly quieted Aerith (4:04-4:08)…
Part 5 (4:08-4:27) begins with Cloud jumping, launching himself off the ground with all his strength (Cloud’s true theme section A phrase 2, first 5 notes, melody starting on the note E5 and ascending) as Aerith plummets toward the ground in a fatal fall (Aerith’s theme section C phrase 1, melody starting on the note E6 and descending, the last note altered)— he successfully catches her in mid-air (both Cloud’s ascending melody and Aerith’s descending melody meet in the middle of the octave, first uniting on B5, and then ending on A5). I’ve recreated the melodies for you here so you can hear this reunion more clearly. If you consider that the airy strings in this piece represent fate, which I do, the fact that they follow Cloud and Aerith’s themes in part 5 signifies that they are now in control of their own destinies, and successfully making it their fate to reunite.
To be completely frank, I did not realize until right now writing this that Cloud unites with Aerith in part 5, even though his theme is right there. I’m so excited to share this part with you.
We hear Aerith once more, her voice quietly trailing off into the silence (phrase 4 of section C of Aerith’s theme) with no conclusion (phrase 5 normally follows phrase 4 to conclude Aerith’s theme, but is absent here). Part 5 of “Aerith’s Theme - The Cetra” suggests that Cloud will save Aerith and that the couple will change their fate, but also conveys an uncertain and open-ended quality.
(continued in part 5)

This has been on my mind for the past few years and this is as condensed as I could make it and I am still leaving out a lot of information, I'm very autistic so bear with me..
I'm 20 years old and have been in a relationship for over 3 and a half years, but have had odd relations to sexuality since I can remember. I can't manage to fully speak up about it in therapy and theres only so much my high libido/hyprsexual partner can help me with, when it comes to figuring out my own, situation. So any input is very welcome and needed.
(FYI I am transgender born female, same as my partner. I identify a little more ambiguously but for all intents and purposes I'm a guy to the general public and have transitioned with hormones. But my boyfriend is, just a guy)
I read about asexuality a lot, and discuss it a fair amount with my boyfriend. He is super understanding about it and has genuine curiosity about the subject which is comforting and all well. But for awhile, it has definetly put a strain on our sex life and romantic relationship given that, I can't tell if I'm ace or not. My partner has what I consider a super high libido (and sexual trauma like me but in the complete opposite direction lol!..) but maybe it's just normal and I think it's high compared to mine. MY libido is elusive to say the least.
Reading about asexuality I've learned that ace people can have sex, which is comforting to know since I do indeed have sex with my partner. I've only recently gotten out of the phase of thinking there is something wrong with me, and trying to fix my low libido because it's "broken". That doesn't sit right with me though. I could be okay just thinking of myself as someone who just doesn't want sex AS much as your average person. But that doesn't fully encapsulate how I feel either. Whenever I describe sex or describe my feelings about it, my boyfriend doesn't understand at all. And vice versa, whenever he talks about his strong desire to have sex with me, I can honestly get uncomfortable, and sometimes I even laugh a little because I just genuinely don't get it or I think he is joking somehow.
For one, I don't really ever initiate sex because I don't think about it much. I've never felt like I needed to have sex so badly. If we have a chance to have sex but it doesn't end up working out, I don't get sad about it. At least not in the same way he does, or the way I see it portrayed in other people. I'm pretty much incapable of going out of my way, to have sex. One time I said I feel like I could never have sex again and my life wouldn't be different. It made him kind of upset at first and I felt bad, but he eventually understood what I meant. The emotional side of sex is important to me, and enjoyable. It's a work out too, and I love being physically active, it makes me happy. I also view sex as a fun activity and experience, and when we laugh during sex or it feels like we're just hanging out, that feels special to me and I see how it benefits our realtionship, It's not like I need that to stop or something...
But... Every time people talk about desire, I genuinely have no idea what that truely means. This real physical urge, and need, for sex. To want it so badly. I barely believe that it's real. One thing that makes me believe I could be ace is how I experience arousal or sexual stuff just on a personal level. Honesty time. I realized recently that whenever I fantasize about sex, through out my whole life, I never think about genitals, or the part that seperates sex from simply kissing or being affectionate/intimate/sensual. And it's hard to connect the situation to me, and MY own body. If I ever do, I start to feel gross in a way, and I can't think about it for long. Most of the time when I'm "horny" or whatever, once it actually turns into sex. It isn't, what I was looking for. Essentially, sex doesn't turn me on. It makes me wonder if I understand what being turned on really is.
It's almost a joke between my boyfriend and I that it is a real complicated puzzle to "turn me on", and it absolutely is. The circumstances for me to be enthusiastic about sex are slim and peculiar, nearly impossible. It's confusing though because we have had some real intense, good times. Typically though... I do not partake in orgasm during sex, and if I do, I do it myself. I get enjoyment out of serving my partner. It used to make me really sad in the beginning of our relationship, I felt left out, or like he didn't enjoy doing things for me, or that it was too hard to make me finish since I take longer. I've come a long way with it though. For more clarification and even more complicated-ness. I do have sexual trauma from my youth where I was forced to do certain things to someone else. It has been really hard to navigate, and asexuality aside, it is it's own monolith to conquer. This whole aspect of being queer and experiencing queer sexual assault, I wonder how much of it just seems like it could be asexuality. My avoidance of being touched or feeling gross about sex, there is a part of it that is definitely because of my trauma, and also being raised in a VERY sexist and "women are sex objects !!" household. But thats a whole other topic I won't get into here. Anyway.
I know that asexuality is a spectrum, and it seems like ace people can experience some forms of sensualness or even enjoy masturbating. Which I kind of do? I think? It honestly isn't super exciting and usually is very short and, not a deep experience or something I enjoy thoroughly. Often it can make me feel even worse! I have two opposing sides, where when it comes to sex, I can be repulsed sometimes. Or just strongly not want to. Some times my boyfriend will tell me how much he wants me in a sexual way and he'll ask me what I want, and, trying to describe how I feel leads to crying a fair amount of the time, because I just don't know what to say. There are a lot of parts of sex that I find gross or just. Why would you want it. The sensory part is a whole other story too. On the other hand, I have other very intense and strong feelings sometimes. But it doesn't feel like desire, it doesn't even feel like sex sometimes. When I think I'm fantasizing about sex, I think about a situation for a looong time, and every detail that would lead UP to sex, but, once it gets to the sex, I don't, think about that part. It has more to do with, the setting. The situation, the colors involved, smells. And not sexy smells or sexy colors, not even sexy situations! I usually just think about being outside, or in a room that has furniture that I like, the colors in the sky, and being held really tight and prolonged eye contact. That's what turns me on, not the sex. Thinking about, things like this in my head feels good, but it isn't quite arousal. It's rare I'll put in effort to make it reality. Even if the situation does come along, I don't feel like I need to escalate it to sex, in order to, get off I guess? Or enjoy it? I enjoy everything that leads up to sex, vastly more.
The most ravenous I ever got over my boyfriend was the one time he drank coffee and I could taste it on his lips. I am obsessed with coffee and, he can't drink it cus it maks him tired, so it was a novel experience. But god it sent me into a frenzy, but once it had to turn into more than kissing or clawing at eachother, it's like how turned on I was didn't count. I didn't want it to go further. I could've just done that for awhile and then stopped and I'd be good. The fact that I felt the way I did actually sent me into a breakdown of sorts and he had to pull me out of it. I didn't understand how I felt and I really didn't want to have sex even though we had great chemistry in that moment. Even though I really thought I wanted to and it felt like being turned on, it just didn't add up. ??? It's like the more "turned on" I am, the less actual sex seems appealing.
During sex, and part of why I am only a giver, is because it's really hard for me to even be turned on by touch. I've never had an orgasm so good where I thought oh I MUST do that again. ?!!?! Even if my body physically reacts, which it's hard for that to happen, it can make me feel gross. I have rarely had sex where I feel like I am just enjoying how my body feels. Some times I can get aroused physically and that's enough but I always have to think about something else. It is a lot of work, and it can lead to me becoming extremly upset and uncomfortable. My body has nothing to do with it. Doing things for my partner is a different story, it's for him and it's more than sex to me. It is fun and takes strength and brain power. It's awesome. And I don't necessarily have to be horny or aroused myself to be present emotionally. I can still have strong feelings and want to do certain stuff.
When it comes to my boyfriend, I am attracted to him, for sure. And my relationship to him is so vulnerable and intimate that I feel comfortable to partake in sex and stuff. But last night he asked me if I'm sexually attracted to him, and I felt so stupid and guilty that I didn't know how to answer. I was just blank and silent. I think he is hot, handsome, we have sex, and I enjoy making him feel good in that way, why couldn't I answer? It isn't a yes or no question to me. It seemed like it should be a yes or no question. Am I ace?
TL;DR: sex doesn't turn me on and I rarely want to have sex and I don't like being touched during sex, but I have intense feelings but they just don't feel quite sexual and I dont have a need to act on them and even if the specific situation presents itself i usually dont want to do it anymore, but having sex for my boyfriend under very specific circumstances can be cool and good, I just dont want any for myself and i cant attach myself to the situation fully, but being present emotionally with my parter, again, cool. its just really hard to do that, while having sex often. is this a form of asexuality?

Have you ever seen the beautiful women in the famous Japanese prints (ukiyo-e) wearing exquisite combs in their hair?
The name of our shop, Kushi 13-Ya, means the Comb Shop, kushi meaning comb. The shop was founded in 1875.
The special wood for our combs takes forty years to grow and prepare. The boxwood trees are planted in the southern part of Japan, and it takes thirty years for a tree to reach the necessary diameter of 22cm. By then the wood is suitably hard. Cutting and drying the timber correctly takes another ten years. Then it is smoked using its own saw dust. Meticulous care must be given to the processes of smoking and forming the wood.
In making a comb, first the teeth are sawn. They are then polished with shark-skin, a kind of dried grass called tokusa, or the leaves of the muku tree, and finally with deer skin. Japanese craftsman have used these materials for a long time for delicate and fine polishing. Everything must be done entirely by hand. This gives the natural, fine shade and rich luster.
In appreciation of our long experience and skillful workmanship, our combs are offered as a treasure to the Ise Shrine. This great Shinto shrine is dedicated to the Sun-Goddess Amaterasu, who has been worshipped for many centuries by the Japanese people as the ancestor of the Imperial Household. The shrine and all its contents are renewed every twenty years, so we must start preparing the next offering immediately after the previous one has been given.
The traditional craft of making the finest combs is a demanding one and our entire family never cease to work hard to produce combs of ever higher quality and of greater artistry.
The 5th. Master of Jusan-Ya (13-Ya) Kushi
Kyoto, Japan

Updated with autopsy results.
Morphew Case Map - Google My Maps - Barry's iPhone Data - Google My Maps - Barry's Truck Events - Google My Maps
August 5, 1994 – Suzanne Moorman marries Barry Morphew The Alexandria Times-Tribune Alexandria, Indiana 05 Jan 1994, Wed • Page 4
December 1999 – Barry and Suzanne Purchase 26040 Cal Carson Rd, Arcadia, IN This is the house where he dug a hole in the yard and buried everything he didn't want to move to Colorado. (AA ft 55 page 53)
November 2013 – Suzanne Inherits $208,000 upon the Passing of her Mother. MB provided documents that Suzanne inherited approximately $208,000 in 2013 at the passing of her mother.
August 2016 – Suzanne inherits $217,000 upon the death of a grandmother. Suzanne’s grievance list included multiple references to Barry controlling the finances.
April 12, 2018 – The Morphew’s Purchase 19057 Puma Path Barry and Suzanne Morphew purchase 19057 Puma Path for $1,575,000.
June 1, 2018 – The Morphews move to Colorado. (PH – Harris) SA Harris: Yeah, they moved in 2018. I believe they left around June 1st, 2018. to move to Colorado. So roughly a year and a half of the time is what Sheila originally said in that.
September 2018 – Suzanne sends “Howdy stranger” message to JL First contact since high school.
Fall 2018 – Libler’s daughter sees messages from Suzanne on his phone. Libler breaks it off.
Thanksgiving 2018 – Barry obsessive/possessive. While Suzanne was at the Oliver’s house, she had stepped away from her cell phone to use the restroom, and Barry tried calling her several times within a few minutes, then tried calling Sheila, then tried calling Darin.
Holidays 2018 – Suzanne finds Libler’s LinkedIn Page. Relationship Rekindled
January 2019 – The Mexico trip where Barry took Suzanne’s phone Mexico trip mentioned in the grievances list where Barry took Suzanne's phone.
February 11 – 14, 2019 – Suzanne in New Orleans with Libler Barry admitted to questioning Suzanne about the New Orleans trip, further evidence he suspected the affair.
April 2019 – Suzanne meets up with Libler in Indiana She does not see SO on this trip.
July 2019 – Suzanne and Libler meet up in Michigan Barry called SO while Suzanne was in MI visiting her fatheJL, wanting to know why Suzanne wasn't returning his calls.
September 2019 – Barry stalks Suzanne and Shelia Oliver, creeping through woods. Barry stalked Suzanne and Sheila at the Puma Path house in September 2019. This is upon his early return from a trip to Arizona.
October 2019 – Libler and Suzanne in Dallas Suzanne and Libler spend two nights at the Galleria.
September – November 2019 – Barry aggressively pursues KW around Salida. From the first time KW met Barry, she said it felt like "he was putting his tentacles out."
Holidays 2019 – Suzanne and Libler stop talking on the phone because she is afraid Barry will find out. They shift to more covert ways to communicate. Barry's second device makes its first appearance.
January/February 2020 – Suzanne in Florida, gets spy pen, sees Libler Suzanne in Florida, SO gives her the spy pen during this trip. Suzanne records a conversation with Libler on this trip.
Late February 2020 – Suzanne in Florida, sees father and Libler. Suzanne skips out on time with her father to see Libler. Barry goes to Florida.
March 2020 – Spy pen records argument between Suzanne and Barry. “It’s money. It’s about money.” “… I have lived for years being told how I should feel, how I should act, how I should look, what I should drink, what I shouldn’t drink, what I should put in my body, what I shouldn’t put in my body … ”
March 20, 2020 – Jekyll and Hyde text exchange between Suzanne and SO, MM2 suggests restraining order. "It’s Jekyl and Hyde again … Pretty much told him I can’t be healthy and stay in this."
March 22, 2020 – Spy pen records Barry listening to Forensic Files episodes, call with Suzanne on drive to Pueblo Coincidentally one of the episodes involved a woman "disappearing" after a bike ride.
April 21, 2020 – Messages between Suzanne and Libler “I want to be with you,” “I can only be me with you,” I love you,” “I need you.” “You know I was born to love you.”
May 4, 2020 16:05 – Barry makes 3 second outgoing call to Suzanne This was the first logged call in Barry’s phone to or from Suzanne since February 7, 2020.
May 5, 2020 – Suzanne drives MM2 to Gunnison Suzanne drives Macy to Gunnison, CO to meet MM1 for a road/camping trip through Utah and Idaho with MM1's best friend.
May 6, 08:44 – Suzanne sends MM2 a text “Good morning! I miss you already!”
May 6, 10:13 – Suzanne: “I’m done. I could care less what you’re up to and have been for years.” From 14:43 to 17:00 Barry replied, “When I’m dead,” “Going to see my savior,” and “This life on earth is a mear (sic) grain of sand compared to eternity.”
May 6, 2020 – 14:43 – From Barry to Suzanne: “I’m sorry if things went the way they did. I have a problem dealing with the way you accused me of hiding checks. If you think I’m as terrible of a person to hide our accounts and have ones you don’t know about you don’t know me. All I do is for you and the girls. All. When I'm dead, which won't be long, you guys will be taken care of. Please stop being angry. If I can control my hurt heart I think I can overcome your distant unlovingness toward me. Honey, I swear it's the hardest thing I've had to do. I love you I always will.”
May 6, 2020 – 15:51 – Barry to Suzanne: “I promise you were wrong about all the crazy thoughts about me. I have always been faithful. Always. Why would I ever want another when I'm married to the most beautiful, sweet, kind, loving, woman as you? Only a fool would stray from an angel like you.”
May 07, 2020 – Suzanne messages Libler about how magical past days had been. Barry wants a new truck. 16:43 - “Been studying all afternoon. I’m gonna bike now. I’ve got veggie soup on for supper.”
May 7, 2020 – SB puts new tires on Suzanne’s bike Bike mechanic was interviewed by law enforcement.
May 7, 17:13:52 – Barry Works Out at GD’s House Truck log files place Barry at GD's home at 5:13 pm.
May 7, 2020 23:00 – “I finally got the job” text from MM1 goes unanswered. Q (Lindsey): Anything on May 6th that didn’t seem normal? Was there a text from Mallory to Mr. Morphew? A (Grusing): I believe that’s the night of May 7th. Mallory, Macy, and their friend Holly are out on a trip towards Utah and Mallory is sending pictures to both Suzanne and Barry but I was ... Read more
May 08, 07:03 – The Grievance List: Suzanne’s phone backs up a list of 50 reasons why she wanted to leave marriage on “Notes” Not safe alone with you. Can’t be trusted - Oppressive - Slam on brakes when angry - Threaten to jump out of car - Gun ...
May 08, 08:43 – “I will continue to do your invoicing when you need to.” "When FBI Agents showed Barry these texts during interviews in 2021, he said he did not think Suzanne was serious."
May 08, 09:28 – Suzanne texts sister about Barry’s abuse. “It’s hard dealing with the harsh abrasiveness and having to show respect. He’s also been abusive, emotionally and physically. There’s so much … I went thru a period of acceptance and I feel more angry now. Anger at what I’ve allowed.”
May 08, 10:55 Barry: “I Love You, Suzanne.” “But, in the afternoon, it (the text fight) was like it never happened. She texted me back and it was just like, ‘Hey, what time are you coming home? Hey, this or that. Just pick this up or pick that up.'”
May 08, 13:18 – Barry texts Salida Stove and Spa about getting the hot tub fixed. "Asking when he could come out to the home."
May 08, 15:43 – Barry’s iPhone receives an SMS message associated with the unknown device This second device was first used on November 30,2019 and was associated with Barry’s iPhone 91 times since then, compared to 1,701 associations with the primary User ID since November 2019.
May 8, 19:06 – Moonlight Pizza and Phone Calls Barry convinces Suzanne to meet him at the Tailwinds site before going to pick up Moonlight Pizza together.
May 08, 21:04 – 20 Facebook friend requests, 3 men named “Jeff.” Barry’s lurking at the River. Barry was asked about his phone pinging down by the river during the Facebook posts on Friday night and asked if he was outside. Barry said, “I could have been. I don’t remember. I chase critters around the house all the time.”
May 09, 00:02 – Incoming call on Suzanne’s phone (PH CAST) Incoming call on Suzanne’s phone (PH CAST)
May 09, 02:07 – Outgoing call on Suzanne’s phone (PH CAST) 02:07 am outgoing call on SM’s phone (PH CAST)
May 09, 06:00 – Barry’s phone received call (PH CAST) 06:00 am BM’s phone received call (PH CAST)
May 09, 06:46 – Barry’s phone registered “Power On” Comes out of Airplane mode.
May 09, 07:19 – Barry’s cell received signal (PH) Barry’s cell received signal (PH)
May 09, 07:22 – 07:39 – Barry at “Tailwinds” worksite Barry’s phone registered locations at his “Tailwinds” work site near Poncha Springs.
May 09, 07:35 – Suzanne texting SO Discussing Sheila's daughters wedding on Sunday.
May 09, 08:00 – MG was with Barry working on the rock beach site until 10am(?). Gentile: “He said that he had to go make the wife happy – do some hiking or biking.”
May 9 – Morning – Suzanne messaging Jeff “He’s still wanting Arizona.”
May 09, 09:50 – Barry to Suzanne: Want to go on hike? *Text Exchange\* Barry to Suzanne: Want to go on hike?
May 9, 2020 – 11:14 – Suzanne received a second password reset message from Facebook Previous reset was while Barry was down by the river on the evening of the 8th.
May 09, 11:15 est. – Barry tells Morgan Gentile he could “bury a body” and it “would never be found.” Gentile: “He seemed stressed. He definitely seemed weird on Saturday.”
May 09, 11:55 – Dead Turkey Hunt or Barry Takes Down His Trail Cameras Barry said he was looking for a turkey that Mallory had shot previously with a bow, but they had never found.
May 09, 13:35 – Barry leaves home again. Checked on job at Kim Gyms
May 9, 13:40(?) – Suzanne texts Libler Guess who is alone again?
May 09, 13:46 – Barry and the backhoe After texting, Barry drove by TK's house to see the backhoe, but did not get back in touch to buy it. In 2018, Barry used a backhoe to dig a large hole in his front yard, fill it with items to include furniture, and cover it over, planting alfalfa on top.
May 09, 13:51 – 14:13 – Barry at DSI, replacing Bobcat blade He was wearing a blue t-shirt and khaki shorts.
May 09, 14:03 – Suzanne sends sunbathing pic to Libler, last proof of life. “Well, look at her. She’s obviously drunk. Look at her eyes. Do you know what drunk eyes look like?
May 09, 14:11 – Suzanne sends last LinkedIn message to Libler: “I’m on wa.” Libler sent response messages at 2:39PM, 2:46PM and 2:47PM that Suzanne did not answer.
May 09, 14:26 – Barry texts Suzanne, “Done headed back.” He texted Suzanne that he was done and was headed home.
May 09, 14:31 – Barry texted Suzanne, “Did you leave.” At 2:31 PM, Barry texted Suzanne, “Did you leave.”
May 09, 14:39 – Libler messages Suzanne, she does not respond. First unread. Messages from LinkedIn show they were talking about how Suzanne is in love with Jeff before she went missing.
May 09, 14:43 – Barry’s phone and F-350, per telematics, arrive at the Morphew residence. "The photo is shown in the courtroom, Suzanne smiling. Truck GPS coordinates show Barry’s truck goes into park at 2:43:59. Phone coordinates show he walks around the house. You can hear a pin drop in the courtroom as tension is high." - Carol McKinley, PH Tweet
May 09, 14:44 – Shooting Chipmunks? Barry had a .22 in the moments when Suzanne ceased the communicate with everyone she loved in the world. Shooting Chipmunks? Barry had a .22 in the moments when Suzanne ceased the communicate with everyone she loved in the world. (See: https://www.reddit.com/SuzanneMorphew/comments/17lfboz/barry_and_the_chipmunks_aa_excerpts/ )
May 09, 14:46 – Libler messages: “Hey … your weather looks great” Second unread. No response from Suzanne.
May 09, 14:47 – Jeff sends another messages to Suzanne with no response. Third unread. Jeff sends last message if the day to Suzanne with no response.
May 09, 16:00 – 17:30 – Defense says Barry was at Salida Stove and Spa Salida Stove and Spa's posted hours have the store closing at 2pm on Saturday. Telematics show Barry's truck in his garage during the time he was supposedly at Salida Stove and Spa.
May 09, 16:44 – Barry parks his truck in the garage. Barry claims to have been loading his truck and cleaning off his workbench. (See: https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?hl=en&mid=1FSqlFRrywR8FkytAYkNM-bdSxvKVK5MP&ll=39.173623131314%2C-105.63244&z=8)
May 09, 17:33 – Barry’s truck system manually rebooted Barry attempted to disable the trucks GPS and SYNC features.
May 09, 18:40, 18:46 – SO sends two Snapchats to Suzanne that were never opened SO sends two Snapchats to Suzanne that were never opened
May 09, 21:25 – Barry’s truck goes into reverse, backs 96.8 feet down driveway Barry backs 96 feet out of the garage.
May 09, 22:17 – Barry’s Phone Exits out of Airplane Mode Barry's phone comes out of airplane mode at the Morphew residence.
May 10, 02:53 – Outgoing call on Suzanne’s phone Possible glitch.
May 10, 03:25 – 03:48 – Barry’s truck door opened and closed "SA Hoyland noted over eighty events involving the F350 during this timeframe."
May 10, 03:58 – Barry’s phone moves from home to near where Suzanne’s bike found 3:58 am BM cell moves from home to near 225/50 where bike found Carol McKinley PH Tweets (read from bottom tweet up): 431 am 5/10 Barry’s phone goes back into airplane mode at the his home. 5:37 am – morphew turns into buena vista & heads towards broomfield. 538 he texts his mom “happy ... Read more
May 10, 04:10 – 04:23 – Last Activity from Suzanne’s iPhone Sergeant Mullenax asked dispatch to ping the number given for Suzanne’s cell phone. Dispatch informed Mullenax that the cell phone appeared to be off and last known activity was at 4:23AM on the present date, with a general location about 11.5 miles west of a cell tower in Poncha Springs, CO.
May 10, 04:32 – Barry’s Phone Goes Back into Airplane Mode Barry's Phone Goes Back into Airplane Mode
May 10, 04:32 – 05:14 – Chasing Elk, or Staging Evidence? Barry's trip to Garfield adds an approximate five miles each way to his morning trip, and places Barry and his vehicle in the direction the helmet was discarded - west from the bicycle.
May 10, 05:00 – Morgan Gentile Hears Barry’s Truck on Hwy 50 Gentile stated she did not see the truck but that his truck has a very distinctive exhaust.
May 10, 05:14 – 06:56 – Barry on the road to Broomfield. Barry phone exits airplane mode while heading towards Buena Vista, CO.
May 10, 08:10 – Trash Dump #1 – RTD Bus Stop Hwy 36 Agent Grusing: "Yes. He would have time -- with the passenger door opening and closing -- like it would say passenger door opened at 8:10:36 am and then passenger door closed at 8:12:13 am. So it took about a minute and a half and that trash can is only 10 to 15 steps away from where the truck was parked."
May 10, 08:14 – 08:20 Holiday Inn Express, Broomfield. Trash Dump #2 Grusing: "He said he parked there because he hoped someone would come out and he could go in the hotel before checking in and get a free breakfast." (Note: It was mid-COVID lockdown, building capacities were down to single digits.)
May 10, 08:41 – 08:46 – “I made it to Broomfield call me when you get a chance” Barry texts Suzanne.
May 10, 08:46 – Barry carries items into the Holiday Inn Express “If there’s clothes in my truck, there was probably old clothes I threw away.”
May 10, 10:06 – Barry exits hotel room. He's carrying a charcoal long-sleeved shirt, two white bags, and a pair of boots.
May 10, 10:20 – 10:41 – McDonald’s – Trash Dump #3 SA Grusing said Barry had a small item in his hand and used one arm to push it down, then both to push it further down as Barry was shown the photos.
May 10, 10:47 – 11:18 – Men’s Wearhouse Trash Dump #4 Barry was told he was there for about 40 minutes and asked if he remembered what he was doing there. Barry said, “I think I was still cleaning my truck, umm, yeah, yeah I mean, like I said, I just uh, I would, I was probably getting crap out of my truck like I said, which I’ve done my whole entire life.”
May 10, 11:18 – Barry calls MG "Barry called he was out of breathe (sic) panting but fatigue, kind a like hungover but he doesn’t drink, honestly when I hung up I thought to myself he sounded like he had the worst night of his life.” - MG
May 10, 11:23 – 11:36 – Barry back at the HIE Barry carries in disorganized papers in a binder. Carries out an organized binder.
May 10, 11:57 – 12:25 – Barry at the worksite Barry spent 28 minutes removing a few blocks from the wall.
May 10, 12:28 – 12:41 – HIE Trash Dump #5 A camera recorded Barry throwing away: a small item, one white trash bag, larger in size than the previous bags in one hand, a black container, along with a piece of clothing, possibly a camouflage coat.
May 10, 12:42 – 18:03 – Barry remains in his HIE room. ”At 3:30PM, Barry sent an outgoing message to Suzanne 'Call me'"
May 10, 2020 (Time Unknown) – Libler wishes Suzanne a Happy Mother’s Day Commented that it would be a hard day because she missed her own mother.
May 10, 2020 – 15:30 – Barry texts Suzanne from his hotel room. At 3:30PM, Barry sent an outgoing message to Suzanne “Call me”
May 10, 15:50 – 17:45 – Suzanne is discovered “missing” “I’m just so sad and REDCATED and I texted mom for Mother’s Day and she still hasn’t answered and I’m scared her and dad probably got in a big fight and I don’t even know it just made me want to be gone even more because I don’t want to be around them it hurts me and I know if REDACTED is working I might have to be home a lot more and it’ll probably be the worst summer of my life.”- MM2 text.
May 10, 17:55 – 19:10 – Barry leaving Broomfield 6:10 pm - Barry entered the lobby carrying two shovels and placed them beside the front desk. He made subsequent trips, placing more tools in the same spot.
May 10, 19:31 – Chaffee County finds the bike “Something is up with the front tire,” Deputy Brown
May 10, 20:42 – Barry arrives at CR 255 & US 50 "Barry is heard asking if deputies saw any “cats” on the road and a deputy says not recently."
May 10, 21:37 – CCSO Commander Avila brings Barry into the house for scent items. Barry does not call out or look for his wife in the home.
May 10, After 21:47 – Barefoot prints in the Bobcat Bucket Deputy Brown was walking in the driveway when Deputy Defurio told him that there were barefoot marks inside of the bucket on the Bobcat. Deputy Brown went with him to examine and found that the cutting blade on the bucket of the Bobcat appeared to be newly replaced, along with the nuts and bolts.
May 10, 22:00 – MG and JP smell chlorine and have the wrong tools in Broomfield. “It looked like Barry had removed top caps that was it. We also did not have the tools we need like a packer or gravel.”
May 11, 2020 – First Interviews, Puma Path Searched "On May 11, 2020, at about 7:00AM, Barry called Morgan and said that Suzanne was missing and he thought a mountain lion may have attacked her. Morgan explained that Barry was initially crying but then abruptly shifted to the specifics about the Broomfield job."
May 11, 2020 – 14:47 – Libler sends last message to Suzanne. Wishing her well for her scheduled final cancer treatment that day.
May 12, 2020 – 20:00 – Barry found digging in the trash at Poncha Market “He went to write down a description of maybe what she was wearing,” Butala said. “I just thought it was weird because he didn’t explain what the color of her eyes were or her hair or anything about her, like how tall she was or anything.”
May 13, 2020 – Deputy Carricato took photos of scratches on Barry’s left arm and hands. These injuries appeared to be healing, several days old scratches.
May 13, 2020 – Fundraiser created $33,552 raised
May 17, 2020 – 11:13 – Barry’s “plea” video is released on Facebook. “Oh Suzanne, if anyone is out there and can hear this, that has you, please, we’ll do whatever it takes to bring you back. We love you, we miss you, your girls need you. No questions asked, however much they want – I will do whatever it takes to get you back. Honey, I love you, I want you back so bad.”
May 19, 2020 – Interviews, Pneu-Darts, Range Rovers "CCSO Deputy Scott Himschoot was present during the search at 19057 Puma Path, in the laundry room, and was asked to collect a “pneu-dart box, empty,” one plastic hypodermic cover, one Pneu-dart book from safe in garage, one dart from box under bench in garage, among other items. The plastic cover was located by evidence search teams in the dryer, inside of the sheets belonging to REDACTED bed." (At some point we had confirmation of a to-do list Suzanne left including MM1s bedding in hopes that the older girls would spend the night. Cannot remember the source.)
May 20, 2020 – Spy Pen found. "The pen was located in a cloth bin amongst women’s bras. The cloth bin and pen were inside the walk-in closet in the master bedroom, located on the ground level of the residence. Detective Hysjulien located, with the pen, the controller and headphones for playback and a USB cable."
June 1, 2020 – Barry files for guardianship. Within a month of Suzanne’s disappearance, Barry began to liquidate assets.
June 1, 2020 – TD interviews Barry on camera. "So, uh -- we uh --. We had two daughters that were coming home from a trip. And I got a job in Denver that I wanted to get started on on Sunday. Set it up for my work because my rookies are coming in Sunday night. (Unintelligible) Monday but I, being the owner, I wanted to get everything lined up so that (Unintelligible).
June 6, 2020 – Barry closes on IN home. Pockets $750,000
June 25, 2020 – Barry purchases the Longhorn Ranch property for $165,000 Property Address 8366 LONGHORN DR
July 13, 2020 – Barry sells Suzanne’s Range Rover. Leaves Suzanne's sunglasses in the car.
Aug 20, 2020 – Lauren Scharf Interviews Barry “People don’t know the truth, so they’re gonna think what they’re gonna think.”
October 05, 2020 – Barry lists Puma Path home for sale. Originally listed for $1,759,000.
November 2020 – Barry Commits Voter Fraud Barry filled out Suzanne's ballot and mailed it in.
February 17, 2021 – Barry Sells Longhorn Ranch property for $150,000 A $15,000 loss. Same property sold on 04/21/2021 for $175,000, indicating Barry needed the money fast.
March 3, 2021 – 19057 Puma Path sells for $1,625,000. Barry and Suzanne Morphew purchased the home on April 12, 2018 for $1,575,000.
May 4, 2021 – Warrant Issued for the Arrest of Barry Lee Morphew CRS/CHARGE: 18-3-102 (1), (a) Murder in the First Degree, a class 1 Felony, 18-8-610. Tampering with Physical Evidence, a class 6 felony, 18-8-306, Attempt to Influence a Public Servant, a class 4 Felony.
May 5, 2021 – 09:15 – Barry Lee Morphew Arrested for the murder of Suzanne Renee Moorman Morphew "Morphew was arrested around 9:15 a.m. on Wednesday, May 5 near his home in Poncha Springs. FOX31 News has obtained video of the arrest, which shows his truck stopped on the side of the road near several police vehicles. He can be seen standing just off the road with an officer." AA: https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21065843-21cr78-morphew-redacted-affidavit
August 9-12, 2021 – Preliminary Hearing. Day One: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15wZ86C3zQ6kh9VGOUCJcr0ipCoFeaXkdowmwyaruiIQ/edit?usp=drive_link
Day Two: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1QKa1jcH2dAqe9Wezew-KbLCDuicrm1HgfwC4oGwM8Dg/edit?usp=drive_link
Day Three got corrupted so it's gone.
People's exhibit images: https://imgur.com/a/hgvlBUt Defense exhibit images: https://imgur.com/a/VC3ZfUZ
April 19, 2022 - Case against Barry Morphew Dismissed Without Prejudice. Prosecution asked for the case to be dismissed.
May 2, 2023 – Barry files $15,000,000 lawsuit against Chaffee County, et.al. https://www.9news.com/article/news/local/barry-morphew-lawsuit/73-3cea50c2-cdae-4338-8de9-9e113d33db6c
May 8, 2023 – Fraud Lawsuit filed against Barry in Indiana. Property dispute. https://denvergazette.com/news/courts/barry-morphew-sued-fraud-allegations-land-dispute/article_1c7cd90e-f4f5-11ed-9778-47c9c303d16d.html
September 22, 2023 – Suzanne's Remains Found Near Moffat in Saguache County While SCSO was searching for another (unrelated) missing woman. https://www.cbsnews.com/colorado/news/suzanne-morphew-remains-found-colorado-missing-mother-barry-chaffee-county-disappearance/
Sept. 27, 2023 – Autopsy Completed. Awaiting Toxicology. https://cbi.colorado.gov/news-article/suzanne-morphew-autopsy-results-cbi-update-0https://www.cbsnews.com/colorado/news/autopsy-complete-remains-missing-colorado-mom-suzanne-morphew/
April 29, 2024 – Toxicology finds BAM in Suzanne's bone marrow. “Homicide by undetermined means in the setting of butorphanol, azaperone, and medetomidine intoxication.” https://www.scribd.com/document/727780041/Suzanne-Morphew-autopsy-results https://www.cpr.org/2024/04/29/suzanne-morphew-died-by-homicide-with-tranquilizer-chemicals-present-in-body-according-to-autopsy-report/
Complete Case Overview (Official News Reports and Documents)
What Suzanne Left Behind (PH Exhibits)
Suzanne's Texts with SO Sept 2019
Barry's Unstableness: Suzanne's Text Conversion with SO September 1 (PH Exhibits)
Where was Barry on the 9th - Preliminary Hearing Exhibits
Barry and the Chipmunks (AA Excerpts)
Barry's dirty truck and poorly maintained rifle. PH Exhibits
Suzanne's Last Days - Timeline - May 4th - May 9th, 2020
Barry Buries a Body - May 10th, 2020 - Timeline
Barry Busy in Broomfield Part One (Preliminary Hearing Exhibits)
Barry Busy in Broomfield Part Two (PH Exhibits)

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
*Starts to cry* I am so so happy! Isn’t that great? Finally some good news and great things to go forward!
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Breaking News tonight from the Apollo 11 memorial landing site, as Admiral Adam Vir and Captains Warren Richards and Mary Chavez were rescued from the Pacific Ocean, following a journey that was supposed to be historical, turned harrowing. Amy Grey comes to us this morning with the story.
Thank you Julie, it was only a week ago here on the historic Cape Canaveral launch site, that the reconstructed Saturn V rocket was launched by the UNSC International Space and Aeronautics Division on the two thousand and fifty first anniversary of the original Apollo 11 mission. On board The reconstructed rocket were astronauts Fleet Admiral Adam Vir, head of the UNSC deep space exploration division, Captain Warren Richards five year veteran and historical aeronautics expert, and Mary Chavez, six year shuttle pilot veteran, and communications specialist.
The reconstructed Saturn V rocket took off thirty minutes behind schedule at 10:03 GMT July 16 after delays attributed to engineering standbys. However, reports by UNSC investigation early this morning indicate that the delays were called for by engineering head Jade Clein who noticed something strange during her final checks of the Saturn V recreated rocket.
In an interview early today, flight director, Aaliyah Seif of the Apollo re-creation mission informed outlets that there was evidence of attempted tampering on the hull of the Saturn V rocket. The tampering case in the shape of these small silver tape strips covering loosened bolts along one of the Saturn V side panels. Engineers stated that the tape was not heat resistant and would have burned off in time to rattle the bolts loose and, likely, cause a devastating spin that would destroy the rocket.
While this attempted tampering was thwarted, the mission would only become more dire. A sudden and shocking report by Mericanda News 5 showed an uncut image of an unknown alien hybrid woman claiming that the UN President had ordered the attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, in conjunction with an audio recording by Admiral Colter Massie, Head of the Galactic intelligence division and known isolationist, that admitted to the attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, and the acquisition of twenty Thunderhawk’s, which were used to harry the Saturn V on its way to the moon. Admiral Kelly, longtime friend of Admiral Vir, corroborated the story, saying she caught General Massie just after he ordered the deployment of the twenty Thunderhawk’s. During their conversion, he attempted to kill her, before being detained by two members of Admiral Vir's crew, and was later seen being escorted into custody by Military Police.
Indeed, footage has been captured from the hull of the Saturn V, showing approximately twenty Thunderhawk’s attempting to destroy the rocket while Rundi remote piloted drones and an unknown group of what appear to be racing jets, fought back to delay the attack, while word was sent to the UNSC to deploy F-90 Darkfire pilots to assist. This all after communications between Houston and the rocket were sabotaged shortly after leaving orbit. The F-90 Darkfire pilots were able to arrive on time to rescue the rocket, though a hole was reportedly torn in the hull, sucking Admiral Vir out into space. Luckily, he was later recovered and returned to his ship without any injuries. Patch teams were then able to repair the torn hull and the astronauts completed their mission landing to crowds on the moon and returning to earth on time, landing in the Pacific Ocean only nine miles away from the waiting ship.
All three astronauts were recovered and are reported to be in good health.
The investigation into the UN president's involvement is still ongoing at this time, however preliminary reports from the Global Bureau of Investigation suggest evidence is both staggering and damning to the current UN president, who earlier today, attempted to cut all ties to the sabotage efforts, saying she was framed. Political experts report that, even assuming her innocence, she will likely not last to the end of her term.
International News Network was able to interview Admiral Vir shortly after his landing while still on board the rescuing ship UNSS Victory.
Here is what the Admiral had to say:
"I find it... Really very disheartening that someone we all trusted, and someone that we all should have looked up to could do something like this. It really is a heinous demonstration of what political corruption can lead people to do."
"And how do you feel, personally about all of this?"
"Personally, I... well to be honest I am hurt and appalled. Not to mention that I fear for the safety of my family and my friends. Every day I wonder if my involvement with them is going to get someone I love killed... The thought haunts me, but I hope after all of this is over I... and all of us can breathe a little easier."
"Were you scared?"
"I don't think that even needs to be a question. Of course I was scared, getting sucked out of your spaceship isn't ideal."
"What do you hope will happen now?"
"I hope that justice can be upheld to those who deserve it."
"What do you have to say to the UN president."
”...”
”So?”
"I have nothing to say. Wouldn't want to waste the air.”
[…]
What followed would be one of the largest scandals in recent political history. At some point an unknown number of classified government documents was leaked onto the internet, and after that it was all over for the Presidency. Thousands of enterprising humans, and aliens alike, viewed the documents to discover all the underhanded and dirty things which had been going on in the UN governmental body over the past few years. Forensic accounting experts (mostly Tesraki), uncovered plenty of fiscal tampering which shed light on plenty of isolationist related projects and bank accounts. There was even evidence that they had something to do with the original assassination attempt against Admiral Vir so many months ago. The drama had even managed to capture the attention of Rundi political experts and Vrul computer science geniuses, and together they unearthed a world of unfathomable, but not unexpected corruption. The process to remove the UN president from office was probably one of the fastest movements of human government ever seen by UN congressional leaders, who were likely trying their very best to distance themselves from association with the president, who despite not being the only one involved, had become the political scapegoat for everyone else that had a supposed link with isolationism.
Even the VP fell under suspicion and was watched closely for the rest of his term.
Admiral Massie and the UN President were placed under arrest and set up for court dates in the nearing future, though everyone saw a long and arduous litigation process ahead. Even Ramirez's family had filed for damages against the government after the news came to light, confirming that their son had been shot as collateral in one of the UN presidents plans to assassinate Admiral Vir. They settled out of court to the tune of an unknown, but impressive sum of money.
No one really knew how much, but a couple months later Ramirez's younger sister was seen training at one of the most prestigious Olympic academies on earth.
Ramirez himself was suddenly able to afford housing on the moon in a condo just next door to his best friend, though no one else inquired further.
The Rundi chairwoman came forward with her own investigation, admitting to being suspicious for a long time though she feared accusations without proper proof. Admiral Vir was seen having lunch with her not so many months after the events took place, suggesting that the trust between the two of them had not been completely dissolved. With much of the isolationist element gone from government, public policy began to lean heavily towards integration with the alliance. The occasional isolationist demonstration or protest was held, but none of them managed to gain traction.
Admiral Vir was finding himself more important than ever, though it was to his chagrin that his ship was grounded for the intervening months while the investigation continued.
No one was entirely sure what the future held.
[…]
Admiral Vir stepped into Admiral Kelly's office. The last time he had actually visited her here had been over a few years ago, before his promotion to captain of the Harbinger. It seemed so distant now, and he never expected to walk into her office with a star on his shoulder. She stood as he entered, and the two of them shook hands, ignoring all the stuffy formalities that usually come with the meeting of two military officers.
The wall behind her was decorated with a myriad of metals and awards she had received over her career, and he couldn't help but note the slight tinge of grey he could see forming in her hair. He knew that feeling, he was going prematurely white much to his chagrin. She stood and the two of them shook hands.
"Vir."
"Kelly."
She motioned him to sit, and he sat, sighing lightly as he had been on his feet all day consulting with political figures and other members of the UNSC.
"A strange couple months wouldn't you say?”
"Tell me about it."
Kelly reached under her desk and withdrew an amber bottle which she placed between them,
"I always forget; do you drink?"
"On occasion."
"Well consider this an occasion."
She said, popping off the top and pouring two glasses for them. She handed his across the desk and he leaned back in his seat cupping the cool glass in both hands.
She swirled the amber liquid around in her glass,
"So what are your plans after all this?”
He took a sip of water warmed by the burning liquid,
"Hoping things will go back to normal and I can go back to traveling the galaxy."
Kelly grunted,
"A simple man with simple motivations."
He laughed,
"Sometimes I think a stupid man with simple motivations."
She chuckled then grew serious,
"A lot of people make the mistake of assuming simple people don't have the intelligence to match. Some people assume that trusting means gullible means dumb. Just because we are trusting and expect others to do the right thing is not necessarily a fault. I believe there is a kind of beauty in assuming the fundamental goodness of humanity."
Admiral Vir shook his head,
"How can you after seeing what we have seen?”
"How can you not?"
She shrugged,
"We always knew that politicians were corrupt, but think about everything else we have seen."
Admiral Vir nodded slowly,
"The enthusiasm for the Apollo 11 recreation mission, the people who flew up to help us. All of those people who went digging through years of information just to uncover the truth."
She raised her glass,
"Precisely. Goodness in humanity is all around us, but we tend to overlook the good in favor of the bad."
She placed her hat on the desk and sighed,
"It is up to good people to keep their goodness going even when it might seem easier to give into the bad. I have and will always believe in the fundamental good of humanity. Some may call it naive, or even stupid. Others have said I have a romanticized view of a species that is fundamentally broken."
She turned her head to look out the window, a contemplative expression on her face before turning back to look at Adam.
"You understand me, I think."
He nodded slowly.
"People need to be believed in. You tell someone for long enough that they are fundamentally bad at their core and they will begin to believe you. For thousands of years pessimists have gotten it into our heads that we are no better than animals, worse even since animals don't fight in wars. But I believe that is wrong, I have seen people, I have met people, and I have interacted with people who prove to me that humanity cannot just be fundamentally bad or else these people wouldn't exist."
She tapped her nails against the glass,
"I think it is easier to corrupt purity than wash away a stain."
He listened quietly as she continued.
"Humans are born good, Adam, and life stains us. We aren't born stained while some of us are wiped clean."
She shook her head,
"Doesn't make sense to me."
She caught him with a look, pinning him to the spot with her intense stare,
"People like you convince me of this every day."
"Me!?..."
She held up a hand.
"Adam Vir, I am convinced that the best outcome this universe ever had, was when a happy go lucky science fiction freak was lucky enough to be the first man to meet aliens. Any other way things would have gone horribly wrong."
She leaned across her desk,
"The universe needs men and women like you, and not only that but the universe needs people who are going to support men and women like you."
She sat back,
"Which is why I have made a decision…"
He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, not entirely sure where this could be going.
She smiled,
"I have decided to run for UN President."
He nearly spit his mouthful of expensive scotch onto the table, but managed to choke it mostly down.
Eyes wide he set his glass down,
"Are you serious?”
She smiled,
"Seriously serious."
"Well shit, you have my vote for sure."
He raised his glass to her,
"I couldn't think of a better outcome."
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Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

A question as old as a job market has existed. Long context warning, because it's all ... prudent to consider.
I am a registration clerk at a women's imaging clinic at a state university in NY (nowhere near NYC; middle-to-LCOL area). I'm civil service, and the institution I work for is solid, unionized, and an overall great employer. By the grace of God I'm presented with two opportunities that I'd never really thought I'd have, honestly.
I've been invited to work a role doing registration and insurance for an outpatient women's imaging clinic (same building as the main hospital, different "tower"). I can not reiterate enough that this is my dream job: extremely low stress/responsibilities, I don't even have a phone to answer (or make calls on). It's like the President's phone; it only goes straight to my boss when we need to reach other urgently. Notice how I said that?... I am the only registrar in this office, effectively making me autonomous. Only issue is it makes just enough to squeeze by. I occasionally run negative in my checking account (getting better though), but for the first time since the middle of COVID I have a stable life. I work the exact same hours as my boyfriend, and as we share a vehicle, it's been phenomenal mental-health and life-balance wise. I am M-F, no matter what, I am guaranteed to leave at 1530 everyday (no matter what), all NYS holidays off and paid (I think this aligns with federal holidays, fyi).
A position I'm on the cusp of being offered is a medical records assistant position. Health Info Mgmt. Same building, but other tower than I'm in now. It would entail processing Release of Info requests, answering the phones, scanning; it's not really a stinky job, but obviously it would be a lot more demanding than this. I've worked in medical records before and while it was no cake-walk, it wasn't by any means a tough job lol. More stressful than this but I think that was more about my boss and the unclear responsibilities I was assigned. Anyway, the hours of this new position would slightly un-align with my boyfriend, so that would be an inconvenience. I might be giving up my coveted, guaranteed weekends off; and the position was promised, originally, as hybrid-remote, but now that seems out of the question. I'd definitely have the crappy, reception side of the dept. However, it would be an 18% increase from where I am, and I wouldn't achieve that in my current position for several years. For reference, both positions are less than $50k, for now.
No brainer right? Take money! Well, consider the following: despite the allure of more money, the stability and support provided by my current state job, with its insurance, benefits, and low-stress environment, have been crucial in managing severe bipolar and a panic disorder. Previous experiences, including a severe manic episode during military training, personal tragedies, and unstable employment, led to significant mental health struggles until finding stability in their current job, where they now enjoy a content and stress-free life with a loving partner and pets. I understand I'm not supposed to address mental health here but it's necessary for context.
Of course I have sky-high goals. I don't want to be president one day, but long term, I want to eventually emigrate; see the world and have some benefit to society. I would live a meager (but very stable and happy) life in my current job. It's not the new responsibilities I'm worried about - it's gambling this ever-elusive fucking concept called stability. I don't want to dig my heels in the ground and live in a bubble, but I'd be foolish to give up this position.... right? The economy is what it is, and I'm extremely lucky to have a wonderful job and apartment at a cheap + sustainable cost. More money is UNEQUIVOCALLY important but it won't mean much if I lose my mental stability.
TL;Dr - Easiest civil service job in the world that pays little Or crappy civil service job (transfer) that pays better than I'd achieve otherwise at the moment?
This was long-winded but I'm genuinely at such a crossroads, I'd rather ask Reddit than flip a coin.

I don't think I could ever admit this to him.
I (23D) and him (23M) have known each other since we were kids. We were neighbors, and I used to hang out at his house every day after school. He had siblings a few years older, and we would all hang out together. While I don't remember him as much from my childhood since I spent a lot of time with his sisters, their family was a big part of my growing up years, and I love them dearly. After school, I would head to their house, have dinner with them, and leave around 8-9 pm almost every single day.
As you grow up, you naturally drift apart, and I didn't really speak to them again except for occasional hellos and goodbyes. However, we both ended up getting dogs around the same time, which led to reconnecting with his sisters and parents when we'd take our dogs to the park together.
We eventually relocated to different houses due to our old builds being demolished, so we weren’t neighbors anymore but still lived around the corner from each other.
Fast forward to 2023, we ended up attending the same college. I remember my parents mentioning over the summer before college that he was going there too, but I didn’t think much of it because we didn't really talk much. Coincidentally, I ended up living in the same dorms as his friends (although I didn’t know at the time), and I became friends with them. The day I found out, he had come down to hang out with them whilst I was with them and it was such a shock, we spent hours hanging out that day, reonnected and became friends since then.
I eventually got a boyfriend at college, and my interactions with the guys decreased, but I still stayed in contact with them occasionally. It wasn't until I decided to commute in my third year that he and I started hanging out more. We commuted together three days a week, spending mornings until evenings together, and became really close. My breakup with my ex (unrelated to him) happened during this time, and he saw the entire breakup and helped me get back on my feet. He kept me distracted by going out and doing activities, which meant a lot during my breakup.
One thing about him is that he's different from a lot of guys I know. He's hardworking, has had his own business since school, is respectful towards women, and just an overall kind person. He never lets me pay for anything, although I still insist on paying because it would mean thousands spent hanging out, eating out, and doing activities together.
We're very close. We open up to each other often, sharing things about our families, even though he's a very private person. I appreciate it when he shares. We have a genuine connection, and I genuinely love him as a person. I feel safe around him, and he's the first person who truly understands me.
Despite all of this, I’ve never expressed these feelings to him, and I don't think I ever will. We've never attempted anything beyond friendship, and I don't think either of us ever will. While there's a hint of flirtation in our interactions, we mostly engage in playful banter and have fun when we're together. We talk about the present, our feelings, and our future aspirations. We text eachother throughout the day and have had several FaceTime calls that have lasted hours into the AM’s, we at the least have a FaceTime call once a week just discussing everything and anything.
I'm sharing this because it's something I can't bring myself to tell him, and I'm not sure if I ever will. It's complicated—maybe he's just my platonic soulmate, or maybe there's something more. Our bond is incredibly special, and I cherish every moment we spend together. Despite the unspoken feelings, I value our friendship immensely and wouldn't want to risk losing it.
Have any of you experienced a similar situation where feelings for your best friend became a question mark? I'd love to hear your stories too.

Being eaten.
No, I do not mean being on the receiving end as someone goes down on you. Sex seems to be popular in fiction these days, if the shitty Fifty Shades of Grey is any indication, and I sorely, desperately wish what I was about to write was all fiction. Then I could sprinkle some gratuitous sex on it, go to a publisher, and hope that it would sell. Then I would be not risking my job altogether sharing this so that strangers on the Internet would at least know of my suffering in having to watch human beings die brutal, bloody deaths to satisfy a desire even more primal than sex and far less pleasurable.
Yes, I’m talking about eating. And about being literally, bona fide eaten. An incredulous notion in modern society, where we live in concrete houses and walk on asphalt streets. Where the animals we encounter are anywhere between little quacking ducks and crotch-high geese. We live free of our early ancestor’s fear of becoming something else’s food. Crocodile, tiger, lion - pick your customer. It, in most cases, starts with the intense pressure of clamp-strong jaws, driving teeth into parts of your body where teeth should not be stabbing into. Depending on how lucky you are, there will likely be hellish pain lasting anywhere from seconds to minutes (that I am willing to bet feels much longer) before death takes you. What happens to your consciousness after that is a popular debate. What happens to your body is not. You get chewed into a consistency similar to hamburger patties in some cases, swallowed whole in others. Different vehicles to the same destination of an acidic stomach. Your useful parts are broken down into a mushy soup. The rest are ejected from the back end.
A shitty way to go, literally and metaphorically. A living human being, full of emotions and dreams and hope, turned into lifeless steak, soup then shit. At least three out of five young men and women whose last days I will recount below went that way. The other two… well, let’s say that it has been three weeks at this time of writing, and I do not have much hope.
The day started with Matthew dropping several paper files in beige covers on my desk. When I opened it and saw a report complete with pictures of grinning people on the first page, I knew right there and then that it was going to be anything but a normal day at work.
“Missing?” I asked, eyebrows raising. It was the single possibility. Police could have pictures on their desks for all kinds of stuff, but not us rangers. Only then did I notice the tight line Matthew’s lips had pressed into.
“Not like that, no.” He shook his head. “None of them got lost. All five came down here from Sydney, stayed at Winston Ward’s place. That’s Ward’s daughter, Madeleine.” His fingers pressed on the picture of a girl at the top of the page. Hair dyed blue and with the brightest smile of the bunch, I noticed. “She and one other, Cathy, their Indigenous guide, are the two still missing.” Matthew pointed next to the picture below Madeleine. Cathy was dark-skinned and had a hiking stick resting above her shoulder, clearly posing for some sort of promotional photo. “And these three, well…”
I took a quick glance at the other photos. Steve Wilson had the build of a runner, wiry and dressed in a tank top to match. Lisa Mooney, blonde with gold-rimmed glasses. Ashley Lo - his curly dark hair tied back into a ponytail. I knew I would not have to pay extra-close attention to their appearance. Two missing.
“I don’t know, man. Kind of wanted your input on it, too.” Matthew shook his head. “Best you see it for yourself. The police could not decide if it was murder or an animal attack, so they requested us. Found all three of them ripped apart. Caught, well, a suspect, I suppose, on their own cam-”
“You kidding? A suspect and they could not decide if it’s an animal attack or not?”
“I know, Tom, watch it for yourself and tell me I’m not crazy. Hells, they didn’t just have the pictures. Caught the damned killings on film, and still can’t decide if he, it - whatever - is man or animal. I will send the footage over in a bit. Some photos are in there, too. Just don’t puke up your breakfast. I’m seriously thinking of going vegan.”
What the fuck?
I frowned. Matthew could not wait for someone to share his hell, I supposed, and quickly retreated back into his office, leaving me alone with the papers.
Here are the facts.
Winston Ward, your typical real estate rich guy, bought some bushland last year next to our park. His plan was straightforward - setting up lavish air-conditioned bungalows amidst the Australian bush, complete with five-star hotel facilities such as private pools and a fine dining restaurant. A luxury retreat amidst trees and shrubs, letting you enjoy the best of nature and avoiding the worst. No insect stings, soaking rains or blistering heat that the normal campers had to suffer. Just a couple of hours drive from Sydney to boot. All well and good, except for the fact that it came alarmingly close to intruding on national park’s land. So Parks and Wildlife Service took notice and kept a close eye on Ward’s project. So far, even though he has not opened his retreat and nothing illegal had been done, Ward became a popular name among us rangers. Just in case.
I certainly did not expect his name - or his family’s name, rather - to come up this way.
It had been Ashley’s idea. An Ecology graduate, he wanted to make a documentary about Aboriginal people’s way of sustainable living among nature. He got his girlfriend, Madeleine Ward, into it, alongside fellow graduates Steve and Lisa. Madeleine easily secured the filming spot with her father. They hired Cathy as the expert for the film, and the five of them occupied two bungalows. Living in the lap of luxury while trying to promote sustainability. Three cameras were installed. Two security cams for each bungalow, expectedly. The third was a camera trap, the kind used on wildlife trails to capture pictures and videos of animals. Likely intended for fun.
As much as I respect the purpose of their never-finished documentary, I find twenty six-year-old Ashley rather hypocritical, and rather gross given how Madeleine only turned eighteen three months ago. But not to speak ill of the dead, I suppose.
I braced myself as I turned the page for the photos, and failed to stop the dry-heave that came up. Three bodies, gnawed clean of flesh. Strands of dark curly hair on the first mangled head identified it as Ashley’s. The skull was smashed open, its insides, empty where a brain had been licked clean, caked with dried blood. Shattered pieces of his bones were strewn over muddy soil, brown rain water filling in troughs where the marrow that had been sucked out. Steve and Lisa was in roughly a familiar state, and I shivered at how disturbingly clean the bones were. Take away the skull that clearly showed the remains to be human, and it could have been a smokehouse’s dump - filled with finished ribs and chicken wings.
And yet, the final photo proved even more unsettling.
It was a still taken from one of the security cameras. At night, judging from the grey filter. It was still bright enough, however, for me to make out the grassy front of a bungalow. Bushes and shrubs lined the far end. A dark figure loomed over them, casting a long shadow.
I shivered once more.
I had walked into the bushes hundreds, if not thousands, of times. I knew how dense they could be - reaching up to your chests in many places. That figure - standing on two legs with long arms drooping at its side - barely had its knees covered by the shrubs. The photo, even though grainy, was clear enough for me to make out a domed head resting upon a neck so thick the figure might as well be said to lack one. Matching broad shoulders held up that neck, deltoids bulging. The… thing, apparently, had little hair as far as I could see.
I did not notice how hard I had clenched my jaws until a cramp-like pain made me grunt. Matthew could not be fucking with me, could he? I had worked with the guy for years. I called the local police station. The woman on the other end confirmed it. Unless a whole station was in on the prank with Matthew - an idea equally impossible as what I was seeing - it seemed like we had won the reverse lottery of missing and dead people cases.
As much as the Internet likes to make fun of its deadly wildlife, most of Australia has no large land predators. Dingoes are pretty much your average dog. The huge crocs live way too far to the north and sharks do not magically appear in the middle of bushlands. Neither looked like some psychopathic, cannibalistic basketball player wearing a shaved-clean, badly proportioned gorilla suit. The police’s best option was us, I could tell, but as far as me and Matthew went, we were equally clueless.
I shook my head and rubbed my temples - for a moment questioning my sense of reality. That was until an alert jabbed into the screen of my desktop. Matthew’s email.
Here is the footage, Tom. Crazy stuff. I got them to send us a scan of Madeleine’s journal, too. Found where those kids were seen last.
An unholy amount of files came in a link he attached.
The rest of my day was spent going through them all. I still know not what to make of what I saw, and I need time to collect myself before I can write of what I have seen on those tapes.
I need a nap. And dinner. But no meat. I agree with Matthew. As much as I loved a nice scotch fillet, I’m probably going vegan for a while.

I was shared this while on a thankfully civilized talk. Here's the link, but I'll clean up the original text to be more digestible, maybe alter a few of it.
https://www.reddit.com/AcademicBiblical/comments/1c5ucxj/response_to_sikers_analysis_of_homosexuality_in
Here goes

1. Siker seems to be offering a scholarly version of Matthew Vines' argument
It being "Paul can't be condemning what we think of as committed loving homosexual relationships, because he was thinking of bad things like prostitution or uncontrolled-lust homosexuality."
So, the idea is to claim that Paul's letters can't be enlisted to authorize contemporary homophobia since he wouldn't have known about the kinds of relationships gay Christians want to have now.
I appreciate the contemporary ethics of Siker's approach since homophobia is dehumanizing and harmful, but the idea that this approach inherently reflects "liberal leanings" (Siker's claim) ignores how plenty of liberals reject homophobia without trying to enlist and sanitize the Bible as support.
2. I disagree with the Innocent Paul claim as Vines postulated
It is true that Greek, Roman, and Jewish sources do not often feature something resembling "a committed loving queer sexual relationship," but this is where confusion often sets in; there must be a distinction between

• Whether such queer relationships were really nonexistent in Mediterranean antiquity and if writers were aware and
• Whether what's going on is that the dominant Greco-Roman sexual ideologies that shape our texts have no room for such relationships

According to dominant ideals, powerful men were supposed to actively penetrate those below themselves on the social and gender hierarchy; a man who delighted in being penetrated by another man was by relative definition effeminate, and thus not to be celebrated. Women loving and sexually engaging with other women meant they weren't being used by (the right) men, and thus Greek and Roman writers tended to disparage, ridicule, and reframe female homoeroticism.
But our texts aren't direct sociological data, they reflect and think with dominant sexual ideologies, which by definition erased/reframed divergent sexual and gender expressions. This is why the likes of Amy Richlin,[1] Bernadette Brooten,[2] Deborah Kamen and Sarah Levin-Richardson,[3] and Jimmy Hoke**[4]** have argued that even though our sources erase, reframe, and distort people who liked any non-normative sex and relationships in Mediterranean antiquity, they still existed.
Bottom line: Writers like Paul could certainly have been aware of queer sexualities and relationships that were not enslaved prostitution or pederasty. Folks like Vines and Siker unintentionally reinscribe the association between homoeroticism and pedophilia/sexual violence.
For what it's worth, everyone should read Richlin's article from 30 years ago. Doesn't matter whether you agree with all of her arguments, it's brilliant scholarship.
3. Corpus point of view
There's a related debate about whether our texts even have a category for something like sexual orientation or simply imagine sex via other grids like active vs. passive/penetrator vs. penetrated (e.g., see Craig Williams' excellent sketch of these paradigms in Roman literature**[5]**).
The most common scholarly opinion in terms of Greco-Roman antiquity gender-sex studies is that our sources don't reflect ideas like sexual orientation, so orientational categories aren't historically helpful for reading our texts.
Other scholars like Richlin and Brooten have critiqued these positions, though they still forcefully argue that our sources thought with overtly hierarchical patriarchal ideologies about sex, like penetrator and penetrated. This final point is something on which Richlin is often misrepresented, which is bizarre since she wrote one of the classic books for understanding such dominant sexual ideologies.[6]
4. Paul Romana
Romans 1:18-32's basic point is that Paul discussed the total moral failure of Gentiles by sketching their (feminizing) descent into being dominated by their passions, one of the resultant illustrations of the Gentiles being their domination by their passions through transgressing the gendered order, exemplified by Gentile men losing sexual control of "their women" (i.e., these men are failed men from this angle) and each other in 1:26-27 - an inversion of the normative sexual order.
Paul treated male-male anal penetration as a straight illustration of Gentile corruption and domination by their passions. It's part of his grander point that Gentiles became (effeminately) enslaved by their passions (see Stanley Stowers' classic articulation of this decline-of-civilization reading of Rom 1:18-32**[7]**).
The key issue here is that there's no literary reason to think he only had in mind enslaved prostitution or pederasty, ANY male-male anal penetration upended the normative gender order. If anything, he might have indicated elsewhere that free men penetrating (raping) their slaves (gender irrelevant) was okay since that use of slaves was acceptable within many moral schemes; Paul never objected to it, and some passages potentially align with treating enslaved humans as legitimate non-marriage sexual outlets (e.g., as argued by Jennifer Glancy**[8]** regarding 1 Thess 4:4's εἰδέναι ἕκαστον ὑμῶν τὸ ἑαυτοῦ σκεῦος κτᾶσθαι("that each of you know his own vessel to possess in sanctification and honor")).
5. Linguistic flexibility
There's no reason to limit οὔτε μαλακοὶ οὔτε ἀρσενοκοῖται of 1 Cor 6:9 to prostitution; "malakos" means "soft"/"effeminate." In Greek texts, it often does refer to men who are penetrated sexually - obviously effeminizing - but a man who was unrestrained or excessive in his penetrating of women is likewise an example of "effeminate" in Greek sources.
ἀρσενοκοίτης's meaning remains debated, but the etymological game of making it "man-bedders" is problematic; rather than get bogged down in this lexical discussion, the larger point regarding Siker is, again, that the issue of whether "committed same-sex relationships" are in view is irrelevant.
Paul listed effeminate Gentiles as those who will not inherit the kingdom of God; a male prostitute is by definition effeminate for these discourses, but so would a man in a "committed same-sex relationship" who is anally penetrated.
6. Futility
I don't get why "liberal-leaning" scholars think they can salvage a moral Bible by handwaving Paul's (what we can redescribe as) homophobia, even if all of Siker's claims were true, Paul's logic is entirely premised on reprehensibly misogynist gender ideologies that animate his other arguments, so even trying to save the dude from Those Two Bad Verses leaves you with the steaming animal manure that is said premise.
Hope this helps!
Sources
[1] "Not Before Homosexuality: The Materiality of the Cinaedus and the Roman Law against Love between Men," JHS 3 [1993]: 523-73
[2] Love Between Women: Early Christian Responses to Female Homoeroticism [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996]
[3] "Lusty Ladies in the Roman Literary Imaginary," in Ancient Sex: New Essays, ed R. Blondell and K. Ormand [Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2015], 231-51
[4] Feminism, Queerness, Affect, and Romans: Under God? [Atlanta: SBL Press, 2021], 27-37
[5] Roman Homosexuality, 2d Ed [New York: Oxford University Press, 2010] [6] The Garden of Priapus: Sexuality and Aggression in Roman Humor, Rev. Ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992)
[7] A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994]
[8] Slavery in Early Christianity [New York: Oxford University Press, 2002]

Maybe take apart some/all points or even tell me how to cope.
I thought Paul was that based guy for giving credit to those two women (Phoebe and Priscilla) and stated that people regardless of origin or gender or status were one in the big IM

I was shared this while on a thankfully civilized talk. Here's the link, but I'll clean up the original text to be more digestible, maybe alter a few of it.
https://www.reddit.com/AcademicBiblical/comments/1c5ucxj/response_to_sikers_analysis_of_homosexuality_in
Here goes

1. Siker seems to be offering a scholarly version of Matthew Vines' argument
It being "Paul can't be condemning what we think of as committed loving homosexual relationships, because he was thinking of bad things like prostitution or uncontrolled-lust homosexuality."
So, the idea is to claim that Paul's letters can't be enlisted to authorize contemporary homophobia since he wouldn't have known about the kinds of relationships gay Christians want to have now.
I appreciate the contemporary ethics of Siker's approach since homophobia is dehumanizing and harmful, but the idea that this approach inherently reflects "liberal leanings" (Siker's claim) ignores how plenty of liberals reject homophobia without trying to enlist and sanitize the Bible as support.
2. I disagree with the Innocent Paul claim as Vines postulated
It is true that Greek, Roman, and Jewish sources do not often feature something resembling "a committed loving queer sexual relationship," but this is where confusion often sets in; there must be a distinction between

• Whether such queer relationships were really nonexistent in Mediterranean antiquity and if writers were aware and
• Whether what's going on is that the dominant Greco-Roman sexual ideologies that shape our texts have no room for such relationships

According to dominant ideals, powerful men were supposed to actively penetrate those below themselves on the social and gender hierarchy; a man who delighted in being penetrated by another man was by relative definition effeminate, and thus not to be celebrated. Women loving and sexually engaging with other women meant they weren't being used by (the right) men, and thus Greek and Roman writers tended to disparage, ridicule, and reframe female homoeroticism.
But our texts aren't direct sociological data, they reflect and think with dominant sexual ideologies, which by definition erased/reframed divergent sexual and gender expressions. This is why the likes of Amy Richlin,[1] Bernadette Brooten,[2] Deborah Kamen and Sarah Levin-Richardson,[3] and Jimmy Hoke**[4]** have argued that even though our sources erase, reframe, and distort people who liked any non-normative sex and relationships in Mediterranean antiquity, they still existed.
Bottom line: Writers like Paul could certainly have been aware of queer sexualities and relationships that were not enslaved prostitution or pederasty. Folks like Vines and Siker unintentionally reinscribe the association between homoeroticism and pedophilia/sexual violence.
For what it's worth, everyone should read Richlin's article from 30 years ago. Doesn't matter whether you agree with all of her arguments, it's brilliant scholarship.
3. Corpus point of view
There's a related debate about whether our texts even have a category for something like sexual orientation or simply imagine sex via other grids like active vs. passive/penetrator vs. penetrated (e.g., see Craig Williams' excellent sketch of these paradigms in Roman literature**[5]**).
The most common scholarly opinion in terms of Greco-Roman antiquity gender-sex studies is that our sources don't reflect ideas like sexual orientation, so orientational categories aren't historically helpful for reading our texts.
Other scholars like Richlin and Brooten have critiqued these positions, though they still forcefully argue that our sources thought with overtly hierarchical patriarchal ideologies about sex, like penetrator and penetrated. This final point is something on which Richlin is often misrepresented, which is bizarre since she wrote one of the classic books for understanding such dominant sexual ideologies.[6]
4. Paul Romana
Romans 1:18-32's basic point is that Paul discussed the total moral failure of Gentiles by sketching their (feminizing) descent into being dominated by their passions, one of the resultant illustrations of the Gentiles being their domination by their passions through transgressing the gendered order, exemplified by Gentile men losing sexual control of "their women" (i.e., these men are failed men from this angle) and each other in 1:26-27 - an inversion of the normative sexual order.
Paul treated male-male anal penetration as a straight illustration of Gentile corruption and domination by their passions. It's part of his grander point that Gentiles became (effeminately) enslaved by their passions (see Stanley Stowers' classic articulation of this decline-of-civilization reading of Rom 1:18-32**[7]**).
The key issue here is that there's no literary reason to think he only had in mind enslaved prostitution or pederasty, ANY male-male anal penetration upended the normative gender order. If anything, he might have indicated elsewhere that free men penetrating (raping) their slaves (gender irrelevant) was okay since that use of slaves was acceptable within many moral schemes; Paul never objected to it, and some passages potentially align with treating enslaved humans as legitimate non-marriage sexual outlets (e.g., as argued by Jennifer Glancy**[8]** regarding 1 Thess 4:4's εἰδέναι ἕκαστον ὑμῶν τὸ ἑαυτοῦ σκεῦος κτᾶσθαι("that each of you know his own vessel to possess in sanctification and honor")).
5. Linguistic flexibility
There's no reason to limit οὔτε μαλακοὶ οὔτε ἀρσενοκοῖται of 1 Cor 6:9 to prostitution; "malakos" means "soft"/"effeminate." In Greek texts, it often does refer to men who are penetrated sexually - obviously effeminizing - but a man who was unrestrained or excessive in his penetrating of women is likewise an example of "effeminate" in Greek sources.
ἀρσενοκοίτης's meaning remains debated, but the etymological game of making it "man-bedders" is problematic; rather than get bogged down in this lexical discussion, the larger point regarding Siker is, again, that the issue of whether "committed same-sex relationships" are in view is irrelevant.
Paul listed effeminate Gentiles as those who will not inherit the kingdom of God; a male prostitute is by definition effeminate for these discourses, but so would a man in a "committed same-sex relationship" who is anally penetrated.
6. Futility
I don't get why "liberal-leaning" scholars think they can salvage a moral Bible by handwaving Paul's (what we can redescribe as) homophobia, even if all of Siker's claims were true, Paul's logic is entirely premised on reprehensibly misogynist gender ideologies that animate his other arguments, so even trying to save the dude from Those Two Bad Verses leaves you with the steaming animal manure that is said premise.
Hope this helps!
Sources
[1] "Not Before Homosexuality: The Materiality of the Cinaedus and the Roman Law against Love between Men," JHS 3 [1993]: 523-73
[2] Love Between Women: Early Christian Responses to Female Homoeroticism [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996]
[3] "Lusty Ladies in the Roman Literary Imaginary," in Ancient Sex: New Essays, ed R. Blondell and K. Ormand [Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2015], 231-51
[4] Feminism, Queerness, Affect, and Romans: Under God? [Atlanta: SBL Press, 2021], 27-37
[5] Roman Homosexuality, 2d Ed [New York: Oxford University Press, 2010] [6] The Garden of Priapus: Sexuality and Aggression in Roman Humor, Rev. Ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992)
[7] A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994]
[8] Slavery in Early Christianity [New York: Oxford University Press, 2002]

Maybe take apart some/all points or even tell me how to cope.
I thought Paul was that based guy for giving credit to those two women (Phoebe and Priscilla) and stated that people regardless of origin or gender or status were one in the big IM

I was shared this while on a thankfully civilized talk. Here's the link, but I'll clean up the original text to be more digestible, maybe alter a few of it.
https://www.reddit.com/AcademicBiblical/comments/1c5ucxj/response_to_sikers_analysis_of_homosexuality_in
Here goes

1. Siker seems to be offering a scholarly version of Matthew Vines' argument
It being "Paul can't be condemning what we think of as committed loving homosexual relationships, because he was thinking of bad things like prostitution or uncontrolled-lust homosexuality."
So, the idea is to claim that Paul's letters can't be enlisted to authorize contemporary homophobia since he wouldn't have known about the kinds of relationships gay Christians want to have now.
I appreciate the contemporary ethics of Siker's approach since homophobia is dehumanizing and harmful, but the idea that this approach inherently reflects "liberal leanings" (Siker's claim) ignores how plenty of liberals reject homophobia without trying to enlist and sanitize the Bible as support.
2. I disagree with the Innocent Paul claim as Vines postulated
It is true that Greek, Roman, and Jewish sources do not often feature something resembling "a committed loving queer sexual relationship," but this is where confusion often sets in; there must be a distinction between

• Whether such queer relationships were really nonexistent in Mediterranean antiquity and if writers were aware and
• Whether what's going on is that the dominant Greco-Roman sexual ideologies that shape our texts have no room for such relationships

According to dominant ideals, powerful men were supposed to actively penetrate those below themselves on the social and gender hierarchy; a man who delighted in being penetrated by another man was by relative definition effeminate, and thus not to be celebrated. Women loving and sexually engaging with other women meant they weren't being used by (the right) men, and thus Greek and Roman writers tended to disparage, ridicule, and reframe female homoeroticism.
But our texts aren't direct sociological data, they reflect and think with dominant sexual ideologies, which by definition erased/reframed divergent sexual and gender expressions. This is why the likes of Amy Richlin,[1] Bernadette Brooten,[2] Deborah Kamen and Sarah Levin-Richardson,[3] and Jimmy Hoke**[4]** have argued that even though our sources erase, reframe, and distort people who liked any non-normative sex and relationships in Mediterranean antiquity, they still existed.
Bottom line: Writers like Paul could certainly have been aware of queer sexualities and relationships that were not enslaved prostitution or pederasty. Folks like Vines and Siker unintentionally reinscribe the association between homoeroticism and pedophilia/sexual violence.
For what it's worth, everyone should read Richlin's article from 30 years ago. Doesn't matter whether you agree with all of her arguments, it's brilliant scholarship.
3. Corpus point of view
There's a related debate about whether our texts even have a category for something like sexual orientation or simply imagine sex via other grids like active vs. passive/penetrator vs. penetrated (e.g., see Craig Williams' excellent sketch of these paradigms in Roman literature**[5]**).
The most common scholarly opinion in terms of Greco-Roman antiquity gender-sex studies is that our sources don't reflect ideas like sexual orientation, so orientational categories aren't historically helpful for reading our texts.
Other scholars like Richlin and Brooten have critiqued these positions, though they still forcefully argue that our sources thought with overtly hierarchical patriarchal ideologies about sex, like penetrator and penetrated. This final point is something on which Richlin is often misrepresented, which is bizarre since she wrote one of the classic books for understanding such dominant sexual ideologies.[6]
4. Paul Romana
Romans 1:18-32's basic point is that Paul discussed the total moral failure of Gentiles by sketching their (feminizing) descent into being dominated by their passions, one of the resultant illustrations of the Gentiles being their domination by their passions through transgressing the gendered order, exemplified by Gentile men losing sexual control of "their women" (i.e., these men are failed men from this angle) and each other in 1:26-27 - an inversion of the normative sexual order.
Paul treated male-male anal penetration as a straight illustration of Gentile corruption and domination by their passions. It's part of his grander point that Gentiles became (effeminately) enslaved by their passions (see Stanley Stowers' classic articulation of this decline-of-civilization reading of Rom 1:18-32**[7]**).
The key issue here is that there's no literary reason to think he only had in mind enslaved prostitution or pederasty, ANY male-male anal penetration upended the normative gender order. If anything, he might have indicated elsewhere that free men penetrating (raping) their slaves (gender irrelevant) was okay since that use of slaves was acceptable within many moral schemes; Paul never objected to it, and some passages potentially align with treating enslaved humans as legitimate non-marriage sexual outlets (e.g., as argued by Jennifer Glancy**[8]** regarding 1 Thess 4:4's εἰδέναι ἕκαστον ὑμῶν τὸ ἑαυτοῦ σκεῦος κτᾶσθαι("that each of you know his own vessel to possess in sanctification and honor")).
5. Linguistic flexibility
There's no reason to limit οὔτε μαλακοὶ οὔτε ἀρσενοκοῖται of 1 Cor 6:9 to prostitution; "malakos" means "soft"/"effeminate." In Greek texts, it often does refer to men who are penetrated sexually - obviously effeminizing - but a man who was unrestrained or excessive in his penetrating of women is likewise an example of "effeminate" in Greek sources.
ἀρσενοκοίτης's meaning remains debated, but the etymological game of making it "man-bedders" is problematic; rather than get bogged down in this lexical discussion, the larger point regarding Siker is, again, that the issue of whether "committed same-sex relationships" are in view is irrelevant.
Paul listed effeminate Gentiles as those who will not inherit the kingdom of God; a male prostitute is by definition effeminate for these discourses, but so would a man in a "committed same-sex relationship" who is anally penetrated.
6. Futility
I don't get why "liberal-leaning" scholars think they can salvage a moral Bible by handwaving Paul's (what we can redescribe as) homophobia, even if all of Siker's claims were true, Paul's logic is entirely premised on reprehensibly misogynist gender ideologies that animate his other arguments, so even trying to save the dude from Those Two Bad Verses leaves you with the steaming animal manure that is said premise.
Hope this helps!
Sources
[1] "Not Before Homosexuality: The Materiality of the Cinaedus and the Roman Law against Love between Men," JHS 3 [1993]: 523-73
[2] Love Between Women: Early Christian Responses to Female Homoeroticism [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996]
[3] "Lusty Ladies in the Roman Literary Imaginary," in Ancient Sex: New Essays, ed R. Blondell and K. Ormand [Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2015], 231-51
[4] Feminism, Queerness, Affect, and Romans: Under God? [Atlanta: SBL Press, 2021], 27-37
[5] Roman Homosexuality, 2d Ed [New York: Oxford University Press, 2010] [6] The Garden of Priapus: Sexuality and Aggression in Roman Humor, Rev. Ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992)
[7] A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994]
[8] Slavery in Early Christianity [New York: Oxford University Press, 2002]

Maybe take apart some/all points or even tell me how to cope.
I thought Paul was that based guy for giving credit to those two women (Phoebe and Priscilla) and stated that people regardless of origin or gender or status were one in the big IM
I hope I chose the right tag

Alice Munro, winner of the 2012 Nobel Prize in Literature and one of the all-time greatest writers of short fiction, recently passed away. She's been my favourite author since I first discovered her work, so while I go through my own re-reading of her bibliography, I'll be posting semi-regularly here to talk about aspects of her work that I find absolutely brilliant.
Of everything she's written, I think that "Tell Me Yes or No," featured in Munro's 1974 collection Something I've Been Meaning to Tell You represents a perfect introduction to her writing style, the feminism of her early stories, and the way in which she uses narrative construction to explore the subjectivity of her characters. It's also has possibly the best hook for a story she's ever written, as it begins:

I persistently imagine you dead.
You told me that you loved me years ago. Years ago. And I said that I too, I was in love with you in those days. An exaggeration.

Alice Munro regularly uses second-person perspectives in her writing, but never like this. Her stories are often epistolary, with letters featuring crucially into the plots of a couple dozen I can think of off the top of my head (Friend of My Youth and Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage are among the most effective, if you're curious). But rarely is a story directly addressed to someone by a protagonist, in the way that it is here. This story has a venom which drips from off the page.
After the narrative hook, the narratoprotagonist brusquely allows us into understanding the source of her contempt. We quickly learn how they met: she was a young mother and a University student, living with her husband in a dormitory of other married couples called The Huts; he lived there as well, as a graduate student, with a wife and child of his own. The student culture she describes is conservative and somewhat repressed: the wives/mothers of The Huts are "creatures of daily use" (87) who rise every night to insert diaphragms or to take other contraceptives, and sex has "shrunk" from an apocalyptic undertaking to another chore. Though there was "no infidelity in The Huts," and "flashes of lust" were uncommon, it is through this man that our narrator "got a glimpse of something [...] that we had not been thinking about — had put aside in your case, or not yet discovered, in mine."
And for a moment, a glimpse is all that Munro gives, as through prolepsis, the story advances to a later year and a remembered conversation, which is presumably also the time when this man told the narrator that he had been in love with her then. It's through this reminiscence that the story moves into the first moments of their emotional affair, : "We never said anything of importance. We never touched each other. [...] Next day, or the day after, when I was reading as usual on the couch, I felt myself drop a lovely distance, thinking of you, and that was the beginning, I suppose, the realization of what more there still could be." (88) Despite only a short walk across campus together during which nothing was said and no one was touched, both parties recall this moment as the significant one in their relationship. For the narrator, it has a transformative effect on her life: "This kind of tension was new to me then. I could not gauge and manipulate, as later with other men." (88) That she brings up manipulation, here, is interesting; we'll find out why, later, but I do want to highlight how Munro will sprinkle things like this into a character's narration which reveal so much of their interiority. Why is she, with this man, so concerned about being able to gauge and manipulate? And why, in the narration, does she go from kind reminiscence to immediately asking the question:

Would you like to know how I was informed of your death?

Mind, now, that it was never established until here that the person she is writing to actually is dead. In the opening, it's only an imagining, "I persistently imagine you dead." For the rest of the story it will seem as if this all is true, and that he has died; but the brilliance of the opening line, beyond its value to draw in a reader, is that now the entire narrative shifts to unstable ground. From now on every action that the narrator takes in the present could be a fantasy, or could be real. It's presented at face value: "I go into the faculty kitchen, to make myself a cup of coffee before my 10 o'clock class. Dodie Charles who is always baking something has brought a cherry pound cake. [...] It is wrapped in wax paper and then in a newspaper. [...] As I wait for my water to boil I see the small item, the modest headline, VETERAN JOURNALIST DIES. [...] Only then do I realize. Your name. The city where you lived and died. A heart attack, that will do" (88-89).
While detailing this narrative of hers, though, the narrator can't help pointing towards the invention of it all: "(The thing we old pros know about, in these fantasies, is the importance of detail, solidity; yes, a cherry pound cake)" (88). When she concludes by saying, "A heart attack, that will do," it isn't pithy, it's another aside, emphasizing the arbitrary construction of her fantasy. All right. So he's not dead. What follows, then, if not a real description of the narrator's subsequent actions, shows that a tremendous amount of thought has gone into building this fantasy. In my version of the text, the story runs from page 86-101, 15 pages; everything said so far has been to frame whatever else follows.
I'll not spend so much time close-reading from here, but briefly: the narrator mentions her habit of carrying the last letter she's received from this man in her purse; upon hearing of his death, the fact that she's not received a letter in a while suddenly resolves itself, and it's a weight off her shoulders. She confides in a coworker, a man named Gus Marks, who suggests she talk to a psychiatrist. She laughs at this, "For I am absorbed in another plan. As soon as the term ends [...] I mean to go visit you, to visit the city where you died." (90) Analepsis: the fantasy/narrative breaks for a moment once again to recall their meeting two years before, where the two confessed that they had loved each other; she learns about his wife's bookstore, he learns about her divorce; he drives her to the airport and she, "was not unhappy at the thought of never seeing you again" (91); instead of the airport, though, they arrive at a hotel together. She muses, "I loved you for linking me with my past [...] If I could kindle love then and take it now there was less waste than I had thought. [...] My life did not altogether fall away in separate pieces, lost." (92)
In the present (fantasy) she gets on the flight across the country, to city where he died. She's only been there once before (it's where they met and rekindled their romance), but now can't help searching the streets for memories of him. She recalls his character, how she saw him, and how he saw himself: "I would say that you are uncompromising [...] that there is something chivalric about you" (94); "You, on the other hand, would describe yourself as genial, corrupt, ordinarily selfish and pleasure-loving." This might be a good time to remember how the story starts, with the narrator describing her past love for him as "an exaggeration." If she was exaggerating then, she must have truly been in love with him here; which is what makes it so devastating when suddenly that love is taken away from her, with nothing to show for it but scraps of letters. "From the beginning, of course, I knew that this was a dangerous way to live," she says, and when the letters stop arriving begins seeking answers in the usual places, reading "case histories" of mistresses in women's journals, and confiding in a friend (a woman) who advises presence and living in the moment. "I have tried this, I will try anything, but I don't understand how it works." (95) So what does work for her?

I have bought a map. I have found your street, the block where your house is. [...] I don't go there yet. [...] That is a house you never meant me to see. [...] Now I can see it if I want to. [...] I go to your wife's store. That is what I can do. (95-96)

She loiters around important areas of this man's life, particularly his home and his wife's store, places that bear incredible significance to the person that she loved, but which he could never welcome her into. She mentions in an aside how these places are opposite to the ones they got to share: temporary spaces that wait for his arrival to come alive. Now she sees the wife, newly widowed in this fantasy, going about her day-to-day life. She recognizes her voice from their time together back in The Huts, and prays that she isn't recognized in turn. After a few days of loitering around the shop, though, she is confronted: "'I think I know who you are' [...] 'We've all noticed you hanging around here. At first I thought you were a shoplifter. I told everyone to keep an eye on you. But you're not a shoplifter, are you?'" (97). The woman gives her a paper bag full of letters, and smugly announces, as if we didn't know, that her husband is dead. In the bag is the record of their correspondence together, which ended when he died at his desk of that heart attack: "But then I notice that the writing is not mine. I start to read. These letters are not mine, they were not written by me." (98)
This, to me, is the true brilliance of the story. Because even if you accept that this is all a fantasy, the fact that something like this exists within that fantasy is so illuminating towards the narrator of this story. In her fantasy, she flies across the country to flaneur around the memory of the man she had an affair with. Alright. She loiters in the vision of her paramour's widow long enough to be recognized, caught, and admonished. And then she finds out that this wasn't even true: the letters aren't her own; he was having another affair with a woman named Patricia. Then, finally, she returns to the bookstore and returns the letters: "'I didn't write these letters' 'Aren't you her?' 'No. I don't know who she is. I don't know.' 'Why did you take them?' 'I didn't understand. I didn't know what you were talking about. I've had a grief lately and sometimes — I'm not paying attention.'" (99)
Her and the widow talk briefly, but they don't ultimately become friends. She walks away from the store, and, "In this city of my imagination," (100), she thinks about the other woman he was writing to: long uncombed black hair, sitting in the dark, "She confides in a woman, goes to bed with a man [...] She suffers according to rules we all know, which are meaningless and absolute." (100) This calls to mind the earlier description of nightly routines back in The Huts, of sex as an apocalypse-made-chore, and of the women who became "creatures of daily use" (87). When I talk about Alice Munro's feminism, it isn't that her characters suffer great tragedies on account of their sex. Instead they're trapped inside of metanarratives that leave them yearning for an alternative to such "meaningless and absolute" rules. Not only that, the narrator in this case tries to have a fraction of the power over this man that he's exerted, possibly without meaning to, over her:

When I think of her I see all this sort of love as you must have seen, or see it, as something going on at a distance; a strange, not even pitiable expenditure; unintelligible ceremony in an unknown faith. Am I right, am I getting close to you, is that true? (100)

She's now shifted herself into the place of the widow from earlier. She's understood him before as a lover; now she's trying to understand him as an adulterer, as someone who never took her that seriously, who possibly never loved her ("an exaggeration") as much as she knows that she loved him. More than that, she wants to get close to him, in an even more intimate way than she's ever been able to, before quickly realizing what a fool's errand that would be. Did he actually love her? He is the one who said it first. "How are we to understand you?" she asks, before withdrawing the question entirely:

Never mind. I invented her. I invented you, as far as my purposes go. I invented loving you and I invented your death. I have my tricks and my trap doors too. I don't understand their workings at the present moment, but I have to be careful, I won't speak against them. (101)

One thing I love about this story is how playful it is, despite the tone never shifting too far away from the contemptuous frustration of the opening passage. The more I read it (and I've probably read this more than any other Munro story), the more details I find to pick out in its construction, of how Alice Munro layered in all these details both to sell the fantasy of her character, and also the character herself. Talking to a man within the fantasy about how she really ought to speak to a psychiatrist reads to me now like Munro having fun with her protagonist's obsession. But I also love that this story is never presented as a woman losing control of herself, even though that would be so easy to do. By allowing the fantasy narrative to be as real as the "true" memories presented alongside of it, she never comes off as irrational or manic, or even jilted until the very end of it, even though to construct such a narrative, with such attention-to-detail and so many layers of fantasy does betray a person who is not coping with loss as well as she claims to be.
It's a strikingly real portrait of a strikingly plausible woman, who married young and therefore never experienced her idea of a romance until years later, rekindling with a man she briefly knew, only for him to disappear from her life again just as quickly. Twice, now, her life had been upended because he showed her something else from the life she had been living; but at the same time, he never truly fit into the narrative of her own life.
Along those lines, there are also a lot of details conspicuously missing from this story about the narrator's life apart from this man: her divorce is briefly mentioned, and experiences with other men; but we never know how much this affair factored into any of those relationships besides a guess at what may have been awakened. We see very little of her as a mother, except that she was pushing a stroller home from the drug store when they first met, and that their romance starts shortly after both her children are away at college themselves for the first time. It's not that any of these details are particularly relevant; I think it's actually interesting how irrelevant they are. One thing that the narrator is trying to do throughout the story is contextualize her feelings for this man within some idea of a life-story. Instead, what we're given is a fractured narrative, with only brief glimpses of real shared moments together, held together by a fantasy in which she portrays both the spurned lover and the homewrecker. The only way she can continue on with her life, therefore, is to persistently imagine him dead.
What Alice Munro does with narrative, in such a short-form as her stories take, is absolutely brilliant. I can't recommend enough picking up a collection of hers, opening to any story she's written, and see how effortlessly she manipulates time, memory and fantasy to suit the needs of the characters she's trying to create. This story ends with the admission that this man who the narrator's addressing is, for her own purposes, basically fictional. She will never understand him. Any love that she had for him couldn't possibly be real under such conditions. And yet, she did love him, despite being an invention, despite her own fantasy.
Because how else could you love a person, or even begin understanding a person, unless they were a little bit fictional to you, existing just a little bit within your imagination?

It candidly sucked being surrounded by constant reminders that you’d lost the genetic lottery. Sure, it was easier than some people thought to get around the world without powers; it wasn’t like the government expected everyone to be a speedster or to be able to fly. Hell, a hundred years ago, nobody even had powers. The infrastructure was there. Life went on.
That said, staying cheery about the hand I’d been dealt was difficult. Enhanced perception was useful for a lot of things, from party tricks to always reading the fine print, but next to flight? Next to teleportation?
I’d gotten hung up on movement powers because I’d taken the bus to the bar, and the only superpower buses had was being late.
I was specifically at the bar for the sake of a blind date set up by my best friend; Todd was about two times my size and could throw a car across the street. His powers did nothing to help me with his current obsession with my dating life, but here we were. I supposed it was a fair obsession. I hadn’t been trying.
It honestly made sense that Todd had been keenly aware of romance since he’d met his soul mate. See, a strange thing with powers was that when you were around your soulmate, they were inexplicably stronger. Todd had met Soo-jung when she’d been on vacation in Crescent three years ago. They’d been inseparable since, and he’d been able to throw a car down three blocks instead of across the street.
Or so he claimed. Nobody was eager to volunteer their car for a demonstration, or anything else heavy and expensive, for that matter.
For my part, I hadn’t spent a lot of time guessing what would happen if I met my soulmate. It was a common train of thought for some, but I never found that it stopped at any fun stations. Instead, I indulged Todd’s meddling because he was my friend and bad dates at least made good stories.
“Gimme a sec, I’ll grab us another round,” Todd announced as he pushed out from our table. “Emma said she’s going to be here soon.”
“You bought the last one.”
“Yeah, now you can buy two in a row once Emma gets here and look generous. Think about it, man.”
“Sure,” I answered, but Todd was already walking away from the table and toward the bar.
Soo-jung leaned in. “You know he’s trying, right?”
“I know, maybe a little too much.”
“You don’t hear the half of it.”
“Oh, good.”
“I had to tell him to calm down when it came to buttering you up to Emma,” Soo-jung explained as she took a sip from her drink. “Sometimes I wonder about him.”
“I’m surprised he says anything nice about me.”
“He’d never say it to your face.” She watched Todd at the bar instead of looking at me during our conversation.
“Does that mean you’ll do it for him?”
“He trusts me to keep his secrets.”
“How about I suggest things and read your reaction?” I asked.
Soo-jung frowned in response before she pointedly rolled her eyes. She knew that reading reactions was one of my party tricks. If you couldn’t be powerful, you could at least read a room.
“Okay, fine. What do you know about Emma?”
“Her last name’s Tavish.”
“That’s it?”
“She works with Todd.”
“I knew that. He kept telling me she was a co-worker.”
“Todd thinks she’s cute.”
“He told you that?”
“No, but he has high standards for you.”
“That’s all the detail you have?”
“Todd’s not allowed to talk about work at hom- Hey, honey.”
Todd was back at the table holding all three pints in one arm; he passed one to each of us despite Soo being less than halfway finished with her current drink. Once he’d finished distributing, he turned to Soo-jung and asked her a question in broken Korean.
He’d been trying to learn, and he was still struggling. Not that I knew the language.
“Yes,” Soo-jung responded in English, “we were talking about Emma; no Korean around Toby. It’s rude.”
“I thought you wanted me to practice?”
“You can practice at home.”
“So we were talking about Emma,” Todd jumped back to the previous topic instead of discussing his inconsistent study of Korean. “Awesome woman, perfect for you, man.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“Oh, she sucks too.”
“Ah, thanks.”
“He means powers-wise,” Soo-jung stepped in.
“So you do know something about her,” I pointed out.
“Something? I’ve been telling Soo everything since we got in the car to come here.” Just as Todd finished, he flinched. Soo had kicked him under the table. “But it wasn’t much, really.”
“What do I get to know?”
“I don’t want to taint your expectations.” He pushed his empty glass away, swapping it with the new one. “But can I be serious for a second?”
I considered it. “Sure.”
“She’s like my boss’, boss’ boss. So best behavior.”
“Wait. Seriously?” I leaned in. Todd worked for the CPRU, which meant that she had to be a heavy hitter if she was high ranked in the city’s power regulation department. “She’s—”
“Not quite.” He backpedaled. “We share a building. She’s straight DPR.”
I blinked twice at that. “Way to set me up to fail.”
“You should believe in yourself,” Soo cut in.
“Todd I w—”
“And she’s here.” Todd had turned his attention away from me and toward his phone. “Hope you’re ready to meet your soulmate.”
“Honey, don’t set that expectation.”
The bar’s front door opened, and I was the only one who could hear it over the atmosphere. I glanced over, and there she was.
She was stunning by any definition, but especially mine. Maybe it was a strange way to describe someone, but she looked beautifully meticulous, from brunette hair to olive skin, to her light blue jacket; everything was in place, and everything about her was gorgeous. Assuming that was Emma, I owed Todd big time.
“Okay, that can’t be her, right?” I asked Todd. After a second, without a response, I checked to see if he was waving at her, but he was stock still, a stupid grin plastered over his face. “Todd?”
Holy shit. The DPR had some crazy people on their roster, but this- I waved a hand in front of Todd’s face and snapped my fingers, then caught the sound of a single cautious heel clicking against the floor.
I stood up from the table and looked back at the door. She’d taken one step into the bar but had gotten caught in the same shock I had. “Emma?” I asked.
She snapped her attention to me -god, her eyes were- but she just looked confused.
“Toby,” I explained, “I’m Todd’s friend.” I motioned over to Todd’s still body and took the first steps to say hello. “This is really impressive. I didn’t think this was possible. It’s cool to meet someone wh—”
“I’m not doing this,” she said. “This is impossible. How are yo—”
“Trust me, this isn’t in my…” We stared at each other for a moment. Somehow, time stopped more than it already was.
“Holy shit.” We both said it at once.
“So this isn’t you?” she asked. Her eyes were still meandering around the frozen bar instead of staying in the conversation with me.
“No, it’s not,” I walked along her gaze and ended up against the bar counter, “did Todd tell you what my power was?”
“He just told me you wouldn’t mind having me around,” Emma answered, which somehow just brought up more questions.
“Enhanced perception,” I grabbed a drink off of the bar to see if I could; As soon as I touched it, it seemed to animate back to life. “What do you mean, ‘mind having you around’?”
“I dampen powers,” she explained, a little quieter than anything else she’d said, “make them weaker, hard to use. The technical definition is long and wordy so…” She sighed as she watched me slosh the beer around. “It’s a lot of trouble, really.”
“Probably good for work,” I offered.
“Pretty much the whole reason I have my job, but Callum wouldn’t admit that.” She approached, but there wasn’t an open seat near where I was standing, nor could we ask for someone to move. “Callum is—”
“Callum Rehsman, head of the D.P.R for the past six years,” I stepped in, “sorry, comes with the perception thing.”
“Honestly, I’m just glad I don’t have to explain it,” Emma took to leaning against the bar instead of walking over to a seat. She undid the top button of her shirt, which was probably too high for a date, anyway. “Emma Terish. Ring any bells up there?”
“No.”
“And you’re?”
“Toby Vander,” I put down the beer to offer my hand, and it froze as soon as I let go. We both paid attention to that instead of the potential formal hello.
“So this isn’t you.” Emma reached for the glass and picked it up; once she did, it animated just like it had with me. “And it isn’t me…”
I swallowed nothing. We’d both said holy shit for a reason, but it felt impossible to admit it. Wasn’t there supposed to be a — Well, something? Anything?
Then again, we were stopping time, and what else could you ask for?
“Do you want a drink, Toby?” Emma asked. She vaulted herself over the bar with a frankly shocking amount of grace for someone in a pantsuit.
“Uh, sure.”
“I’d ask what you were drinking, but we might have limited options,” she was considering her new vantage point from behind the counter.
I took the opportunity to grab the drink I’d left behind on the table. “I’ll use the one I had.” I tapped Todd’s hand for posterity, and nothing happened to him. “Any idea what this might—”
“No idea,” she answered without letting me finish, “but my job involves dealing with unknown powers, so…” She tried to use the soda-gun and swore when it didn’t work. “You learn to roll with it until people cooperate.”
“You still think I’m doing this?”
“I know it’s not me, and there aren’t many options here with us,” she said as she ducked behind the bar and came back up with a lemonade cooler, “but I came here for a date, and I plan to have one. Been a long week.”
I returned to the bar, finding a seat now that she was on the other side. “I just need to establish that this isn’t me. I’m not trying to—”
“If it isn’t you and it’s not me stopping time around us, then someone is giving us a very private venue for our first date.”
“Isn’t that nice?”
“It really is.” She took a sip of her drink, then pulled it away before she had time to swallow. “Shit. Do you have cash?”
“I’ll cover you.” She frowned at that; clearly she wasn’t satisfied with someone else paying for everything. “Plus, you’re serving me tonight. So…” That seemed to be enough plausible deniability to satisfy her. “Cheers?”
“Cheers.”
Throughout drink one, we were casting nervous glances around the paused bar; by drink five, we were laughing, just the two of us. Hours dripped by with the free beer… or they didn’t… It was hard to tell.
Emma added her sixth can to her pyramid and composed herself. “Okay, okay, okay. One second.” She took a deep breath. “This has been so much fun, but I told Todd I’d tell him when I got here so” — she needed another second to find her verbal footing — “can you stop this now?”
“Stop what?” I was halfway through a sip.
“This is the coolest power I’ve seen but—”
“It’s not me, I promise,” my insistence ended up sounding more like a drunk debate. The drunk part was accurate.
“So your power really is enhanced perception.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Okay. You’re not lying.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because that’s lame and—” She stopped herself. “Shit, sorry.”
“I am so used to it.”
“You wouldn’t say that drunk if you could stop time is my point,” she almost ducked down to grab another drink but thought better of it. “So, that makes us…”
We’d reached this impasse several times in the last hours. I scanned her. The lines on her face. The size of her irises. She was worried. Apprehensive.
So I said it first.
“We’re soul mates.”
She looked down and to the left, considering instead of answering.
“Why else would one of us display a power we’d never seen before? Unless you’re right and someone was stopping time for everyone but me and—”
“And the woman who’s immune to powers,” she cut in. “Maybe we are soul mates, but turn it off.”
“It’s not—”
“Toby, please.”
“I don’t—” I stopped short and instead tried even though I didn’t know how. My perception was passive. I didn’t get to choose whether I used it. Was there supposed to be a switch somewhere inside my head? Was I—
How long had it been at this point? Six, seven hours? We’d planned to meet pretty late and it would almost be light out by now. She was right. We had to get—
“I don’t know how,” I admitted, “if it’s me.”
Emma opened her mouth to say something, then reconsidered. Her perfectly manicured nails were digging into the vinyl of the bar top.
“Okay. It’s been lovely, but if you getting here started this then,” I said as I stood up, “maybe I just need to leave, and that will turn it off so we can figure out what’s going on.” I took the first steps toward the door.
“That’s a good plan,” she nodded along with what she was saying, like she was convincing herself, “I’ll reach out to you. It was an excellent date.”
“Let Todd know for me,” I added as I reached the door; a second later, I stepped into the chilled early-fall air. The door didn’t shut behind me, so I kept walking until I would have been out of eyesight.
Then I stopped.
Should I have turned around? What were the chances that she was my soul mate? What was I leaving behind if I didn’t see her again? It was a dumb thought, but the idea of walking away started gnawing at me.
But what choice did I have? In front of me, a couple was frozen in the middle of a quiet conversation on the way to the bar. Soul mates only affected one another when they were close by. I took a few more steps and started to sprint.
I was three blocks away when the world stuttered around me. My vision blurred, and the moonlight was shattered by the sun. I stumbled, almost crashing into a woman dressed like she was on her way to brunch.
Shit. I’d left my jacket at the bar, but—
I checked my watch; 8:06 AM.
​
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General
I am looking for a lady between 28 and 35 years old, for a committed monogamous childfree relationship. My goal is to become a true team, supporting each other, caring for each other, nurturing each other and helping each other grow and realise our goals and dreams as much as possible. I'm hoping to find someone that values a relationship as much as I do and takes it seriously. It's not the only thing my life revolves around, but it's also not just something 'nice to have' for me.
I tried to be as concise as possible while still providing what details I think are crucial to know; I realise this post turned out very long, but I prefer those because I can get as good an idea as possible with detailed descriptions, bar actually talking to the person, and find that very valuable, so if that also applies to you, that would be awesome.
Basics
I am 186cm tall, slim/fit built, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Both my arms are tattooed (full sleeve), as are my calves and the areas above my ankles. Regarding pictures see below. I am a runner (ranging from 5k to full marathon), training multiple times a week. I'm also vegan. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. While I am mostly securely attached, withdrawing from me triggers anxiety and I have made a horrible experience with a fearful avoidant partner in the past, so that is something I fear I cannot deal with again.
I am also an atheist.
I am a very warm, soft and sensitive person, I think I am humorous, I am self reflecting a lot and I can also be really passionate and romantic. Those are traits that also are really important to me in a woman.
I can be quite social, I am a good talker, but also love to listen to really get to know someone on a deeper level. I can enjoy an evening out with friends just as much as the silence of sitting at the shores of the river and watching the sunset in solitude (although I've been craving to watch it together with a partner for a really long time now). I can be out in a pub, at a rave, a metal show or in the stadium watching football and have the time of my life, but I cannot do these things every day; I need recharge time (on the sofa, in the woods for a run, a lazy Sunday staying in bed etc.). This should give you an idea; basically, I am a homebody that thoroughly enjoys going out in moderation.
I won't say too much about hobbies; suffice it to say I am into the dark, the obscure, the macabre, the occult, the mysterious, the erotic. It won't surprise you that I had a gothic phase in my youth, bonus points if you did too!
What I am looking for
Although similar hobbies and interests are a plus (and there have to be at least a couple things we have in common), emotional and sexual compatibility are more important to me. I am a very sensitive and emotional person (I do cry easily and by this point I don't think I'll ever be able to change that, sorry), so if you're too, we will definitely understand each other. I need someone who I can open up to (which I do rather quickly, anyway), be myself, bare my soul to and I need these things from you, too. I've had my share of emotionally unavailable women who were afraid of intimacy so I know I can't deal with that again because of the way how those things affect me. I am always emotionally invested with the woman I pursue and in those cases that was to my detriment. But my ability to feel so deep is also something I wouldn't want to change because as of yet, although it's getting harder, I haven't given up on finding someone.
With those emotional needs come two requirements that I found to be vital over the years: First, being able to be silly and cutesy together and to accept each other's inner child and care for it. I am not talking about having to deal with another person's immaturity or inability to perform basic adult skills, rather with the way sadness, hurt, anxiety and being overwhelmed manifests for me (and maybe for you, too?). I need someone who is able to comfort me, to hold me, to allow me to be weak and needy for a while until I've calmed down, and I'm more than ready to offer the same. Your inner child can come out for a while, no problem (: Also in a positive way: Thankfully, today everyone seems to be understanding of the cuteness overload cats (or any animal baby, really) can cause; I need that with a partner. I also still have plushies as comfort animals (some of which in quite a litteral sense as they make for really amazing pillows) and ideally, you do too.
There is a saying that in every relationship, one person is the stronger one. In the past, I have been with women who obviously were stronger than me, but that doesn't mean they always had to be strong, far from it. I certainly, like I said, need to be able to feel protected, but it's not like I'm a particularly needy partner, like everyone, I have my ups and downs, but I can pull my weight and have been told by past partners that I am very caring and that they felt safe and understood with me, and providing that for my partner is really important for me as well – this just to put the picture I'm (somewhat haphazardly) trying to paint into perspective.
Second, sexual compatibility. I have a high libido and I have kinks, so you should, too, in order that we can explore and enjoy them together. I found out how fulfilling living out those fantasies can be after years of never being able to try and in a relationship, sexual fulfillment for both partners is a must for me. Someone on here has coined the term 'filthy best friends and partners' which I have no shame to be stealing because it's such an apt description.
I'm looking for a balance between healthy independence and being emotionally present. A relationship where we 'get' each other; we're both each other's number one and treat each other like royalty. Where a disagreement leads to more intimacy between us as we understand better, not to resentment. Where we're comfortable baring our souls to each other, becoming a safe haven and secure base for each other. I don't like the modern notion that you 'should never feel too safe in a relationship' because that sounds like running from the mafia (and believe me, I love mafia movies); you should always put in effort, yes, but safety is one of the things I always want to experience and provide in a relationship. We shouldn't fear that a disagreement leads straight to breakup. I know ‘self-sufficiency’ is trending right now, but I feel like as partners, we’re partly responsible for each other and not our own but also each other’s happiness. Being dependant and dependable at the same time is important; making each other’s wellbeing a priority. I love the relationship model outlined in Stan Tatkin’s ‘Wired for Love’ and you should, too. If you’re not able to healthily depend on someone and their support while you’re having a hard time, look elsewhere. I know codependency is the latest thing everyone’s afraid of, but experiencing someone you’ve grown very attached to just bailing because they’re counterdependent and can’t stand working on themselves while simultaneously letting you in is something I’d rather not go through again. If I have to be afraid you’ll run at the first major problem that surfaces, even if it’s a ‘you’-problem, it’s not going to work. I think that all things can and need to be talked about. If you think ignoring someone for days is a form of communication, please look elsewhere. If you think’s it’s okay to lovebomb someone and then leave after a couple of months with the minimum amount of information and no proper conversation because you’re not ready to own up to what’s happening to you emotionally, please look elsewhere.
I am looking for someone real. We all have our problems, I don't want or need a 'perfect' person. You don't have everything figured out or 'all your shit' together. Be imperfect. Admit when you feel sad and angry, lonely, hopeless or even helpless – it's all relatable. Don't hide it. Be quirky, be dorky, be witchy, be opinionated, be yourself. Don't pretend.
I'm looking for someone to share romance with. Not great gestures, but small, meaningful ones. Poems for each other, expressing our feelings; cards with heartfelt messages that we put our perfume/cologne on, and a symbol that means something to us only, the print of your lips with lipstick, the way I sign and seal my letters for you.
Just as important to me is agreeing on living a healthy life, staying in shape both for ourselves and for each other, regularly working out and eating healthy. I am drug and disease-free and expect the same of you. I do drink as I love a good beer or glass of wine, rum or whiskey, but I've never really been drinking much and especially during the past year have further reduced it. One vice I have is that I enjoy a couple of cigars a year, but I can definitely accommodate you in this regard.
Another important point is aligned life goals: many childfree people seem to be adventurous, but that is a trait I don't associate with myself at all. I value safety more than adventure. I want to build a home together with my partner, a safespace for the both of us, where we always feel loved and protected, a place that we create together, make it cozy together so we just love to get back home there wherever we might have been, a home we decorate together for Halloween (my favourite holiday) or Christmas or Springtime, as we live in tune with the seasons, seeing them change around us, enjoying nature on a walk or the rain outside, reading in our cozy home. I value stability and harmony.
Appearance-wise, I am into ladies on the smaller side (albeit not regarding height), so I'm looking for someone petite/slim/skinny/healthy-fit. Likewise, I am not really muscular and don't have visible abs; like I said, I'm a runner, so if you're more into the gym-type, I'm not a good fit.
The natural progression for me would be to move from text to voice calls, videochat and then meeting up, all of that rather sooner than later. Not that there’s a need to rush anything, but having my heart broken because I already developed feelings due to a longer timeframe and then everything unexpectedly turning to shit is not something I want to have to live through again. I’d rather see earlier if we’re compatible or not; as someone who catches feelings fast I need to protect myself, I unfortunately had to learn that
Caveats/Possible red flags

• I don't like travelling as it stresses me out; I don't mind being somewhere else for a week or two, but the organisation part of it drains my energy very quickly and dealing with stuff that doesn't work out is overwhelming to me. Smaller trips are ok, but I'm not the right person to travel the world with.
• I am not the most awake person in the morning (i.e. I identify as nightowl)
• I need space for my own projects/time to recharge after social interaction.
• While I feel like I am in tune with my inner child and working on/with it through therapy, I realise this is something that could be a turn-off for people.
• I have been diagnosed with depressive episodes in the past and am taking anti-depressants right now. I realise that I am a work in progress, maybe more so than in times past, but I manage and the fact that I'm putting myself out here is based on me being ready to get to know someone new.
• I want to create a home together here, as I'm firmly rooted where I was born; I realise this is a lot to ask, but I have seen many people here being open to moving, so I want to at least try reaching out to them.

If you're interested, feel free to message me and include some pictures of yourself and I will reply with my own. Have a nice day (:

Hey everyone! It's me, Yume! The new Gaylor who's not fully convinced with Taylor's gayness but is def finds the idea intriguing and making sense.
Today, I propose an interesting imagination that I'm not convinced in myself would happen but how has that stopped me or anyone honestly!
The imagination, in question, is the idea that Female Rage: The Musical can be an interesting concept with Taylor coming out at the end of it.
Imagine Taylor Swift, the megastar directing a Broadway show. The fans are excited for it. Everyone is intrigued. There's bitchin', there's speculations and then the fated night comes.
Taylor begins her musical with a monologue ("Who's afraid of little old me?") and tells her this musical is a story of superstar named Cassandra.
Then musical has the following story order.
Act 1 It follows the introduction of the superstar as some girl who collects boys and dates a lot of them. Everyone has their eyes on her. She goes on dates, she is madly obsessed with her breakups. We see scenes related to that and then a public breakup news follows of the girl. We see the media narrating how the girl crying madly alone and swearing she will get the boy back.
Songs in Act 1
Blank Space (Introduction of The MC)
Style+London Boy+Gorgeous (Multiple media spottings & "Dates")
Down Bad+Imgonnagetyouback (for obvious reasons)
Act 2 It begins with Cassandra alone in her room imagining herself as a Victorian women and then as a lady in 20s to escape from her life. Her PR team tells her to get better and get back from it and work. She tries to talk to her team because she doesn't wanna pretend and hide anymore but they tell her to do as they say. She pulls herself up and does PR walks, song releases for the team. Now, news breaks she has found another boy, her new target, dates & speculations. The girl is visibly happy in public. Act 2 ends with a scene of the girl ending the date and we see her crying in alone, wishing for real love & how she and her team made all this PR of her dating all these boys.
Songs in ACT 2:
I hate it here+willow+the last great american dynasty ( Her imagination)
I can do it with a broken heart(PR team preparing her while she's broken and PR walks)
So High School+The Alchemy(Her new fling and dates)
mirrorball+The Prophecy+The Manuscript
Act 3 The singer finally breaks down while on a PR walk shocking everyone. She begs her team to let her be real for once. Her team is shocked and realise there's not much option left now.
Flashback scene - we see her meet with another girl(Let's name her Betty) They seem to be talking about a relationship but then we realise that they are talking about their relationship. They are dating. The other girl breaks up with her because she never came out when she promised she would last time. Cassandra tells her she wanted to but then the scandal happened, and her team.. but then Betty leaves
Back in present, Cassandra holds a press conference and reveals who she is. She is lesbian. This shocks everyone. And then on live, she sings a song for her real love apolgizing for what happened.
She ends the press conference. We hear multiple how lots of followers she loses, she earns support from alot of people but alot of people scream how she is acting all woke fakely.
One last scene. Cassandra is alone in a garden singing a song when someone comes to meet her. It is Betty. They reconcile and kiss and the act ends.
Songs in ACT 3:
Who's afraid of little old me(reprise) (when Cassandra breaks down)
illicit affairs(flashback scene intro)
this is me trying (Breakup scene)
betty(Sung live by Cassandra for Betty)
mad women(playing when the newses are heard)
evermore(Cassandra singing song in the garden)
One last song with all the cast and Taylor singing plays after ACT 3. That song is But Daddy, I love "her". During this, Taylor kisses a female background dancer.
..and everyone is shocked as to what does this mean. Lots of people start to speculate this is just a play by Taylor Swift and she is not lesbian. She announces herself as lesbian the next day.
Thank you!

Wonder Women

Issue Fifty
Written by u/VoidKiller826
Edited by u/Predaplant
Arc: Revelations
*************************************************************
Greetings, people of Gateway City. This is your new peacekeeper speaking. You might know me as the White Magician, a rather crude name, but I will accept it considering Man’s World's lack of creativity. However, you may also call me Circe, and I am here with an important message that your news station will deliver for all to hear.
SCYTHE is no more: their HQ is under my and the Red Centipedes’ command. The Commander and his soldiers are dead and buried, as you all wished to happen. I was more than happy to oblige you if it meant depriving your stupid President of her next chance for reelection. Any survivors of the prison break are being hunted down by the people they locked in cages, who are more than happy to round them up as they once had been themselves.
But none of that’s important, for this recording is only to be heard by one person: Olympos, Wonder Girl, or whatever the fuck new title name you want to be called. This message is for you: You are to surrender yourself to me here in SCYTHE HQ in the next five hours, and in turn, I will not destroy this piss-end of a city. If you fail, I promise you, I will make Coast City look like a picnic by the time I finish with Gateway.
That cow you call Wonder Woman is dead, and I will make sure everyone else will follow her if you don’t comply with my request.
Your mentor learned a valuable lesson when she tested my patience.
*************************************************************
Spears Apartment - Gateway City:
[...President Cale has announced the complete closure of all access to Gateway City following the prison break that occurred in SCYTHE’s holding facility hours ago,] said Cassandra Arnold from GateNews, the city’s main news station. [We still have an unconfirmed number of escapees following the message sent by the White Magician, but the President has assured GateNews a solution will be found.]
Vanessa Kapatelis watched the TV in dismay. Pacing back and forth in the Spears duplex apartment, she had the TV on to pass the time while Ares worked on helping Helena and Cassandra upstairs.
“Here,” Vanessa turned away from the TV to see Tanya Spears handing her a bottle of water. “Something for you to drink.”
“Thank you,” Vanessa accepted the bottle. “I would prefer a beer, but this will make do.”
“My mom has her wine collection in a locked cabinet,” Tanya noted, pointing at the kitchen. “She doesn’t know that I know that, but I can get you a bottle?”
Vanessa chuckled. “Thanks, but I don’t want a girl your age to be walking around with alcohol or to get you in trouble with your mom.” She twisted the bottle cap and slowly drank. “I needed that… it feels like I’ve been dry for months.”
“It’s actually been 3 hours,” Tanya said, sitting on the sofa and opening her tablet to look over the internet. “I hope what she said wasn’t true… about Wonder Woman not being around…”
Taking a seat by her side, Vanessa saw that Tanya was reading through the report on what happened to SCYTHE. The escaped convicts had taken control of the SCYTHE headquarters and equipment after killing many of the agents that had stood in their way.
Seeing the photo of SCYTHE HQ burning angered her. That place should represent the absolute shield of Gateway. Now, it had come under the control of the convicts that they were supposed to stop because of Aeeta Branwen. A name that had made her happy now belonged to a stranger who had lied to her all this time.
Memories of their most intimate moments came flooding back: their first conversation, their first date, their kiss, and the morning after their date in her apartment. It was a moment when she thought she could finally stop grieving and move on from what happened to Coast City. And now, that had been disintegrated into oblivion.
In anger, she crushed the bottle with her hand, spraying water all over the table and the floor.
“Shit!” Vanessa stood up, finally realizing her mistake. “I am sorry!”
“Oh, it's fine!” Tanya ran to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. “It’s just water.”
“I know it’s just…” Taking the paper towel, the two began wiping the floor and the table. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“I’ll bet with everything that happened,” said Tanya, giving Vanessa a supportive smile. “Your friends are getting hurt, and you can’t do anything but watch. It would piss anyone off. I know it did with me when the RedCent guys invaded EE Tower.”
“Yeah…” Vanessa sat back on the sofa. “But this… I not only possibly lost many friends, but I was betrayed by someone I loved, someone who I thought was the one for me…” she said, distraught, as tears ran down her face.
Tanya, without saying anything more, hugged Vanessa closely. Despite them knowing each other for only a few hours, Tanya knew that Vanessa was in pain. Watching her loved ones being hurt by someone that she trusted must have been a hard truth to accept.
The doors upstairs opening and closing caught the two’s attention. Looking up, they saw Somya Spears descending, looking exhausted, like she had gone ten rounds in the ring. As she reached the ground floor, Tanya ran up to her mother, hugged her close, and guided her to the nearest chair to rest.
“Is everything alright, mom?” Tanya asked, worried.
“Yeah… just felt that I might take that long overdue vacation…” Somya answered, leaning against the soft chair with a tired sigh. “Maybe we’ll go to Paris like you wanted, Tanya…”
More steps followed, and Ares, or Mars as he insisted to be called, followed Somya, pulling his folded-up sleeves back. Unlike Somya, he didn’t seem any different from when he went upstairs to help the Sandsmarks, but the few strands of hair on his face told a different story.
“How are they?” Vanessa asked, walking up to the former God of War. “Are they ok?”
Ares turned to Vanessa. “The girl has a lot of heart, far too stubborn to let a beating keep her down.” He said with praise, impressed with the former Wonder Girl’s willpower. “Her Sumerian blood will help her heal in only a few days, but it won’t help her mental wounds after I told her the news about her mother.”
Vanessa had a lot of questions about what he had said, especially the word Sumerian; perhaps Cassie was not simply half-Olympian. However, she focused on the most important detail in his explanation. “What happened with Helena?” She asked in a worried tone. “Is she-”
“She is alive,” Ares said, but his expression shifted, frowning, making her nervous. “Physically, she will recover, she has only a few cuts and bruises. Even a human like her can heal those.”
“But?”
“But it's the spell Circe struck her with. It is unlike anything I’ve seen because it is of her creation,” Ares explained, and Vanessa ground her teeth together when she heard the name belonging to the stranger who hurt her and her loved ones. “Whatever she used, it is affecting her very soul, slowly killing her.”
“Like a virus?” Vanessa asked, and Ares nodded. “Magic can do that?”
“It does,” Ares answered. “Magic can create a nuclear bomb if the user has the patience for it. And Circe is a master at it, one of the very best and most gifted witches on the planet, so making something like this would be as easy as making a cake for her.”
Magic had never been SCYTHE’s priority, but the Commander still made them study anything related to the subject in case they had to face it. Vanessa had never expected to see it at this scale.
“Can you break it?” Vanessa asked. “Find a way to break the curse from Helena’s soul?”
Ares took a deep breath, pocketing his hands. “It’s too complex to break. I will admit Magic is not my strongest suit, but even if you bring in someone knowledgeable, it would be a while for them to break her creation,” he explained. “You need someone at her level of knowledge when it comes to magic, and I am not the best person to face her in that department.”
“Then we call for a specialist, anyone, really,” Vanessa said in desperation. “If this is like a virus, a curse, then we bring a surgeon to cut it out! Maybe Cassie can use her Justice Legion connection, or maybe you can call someone for a favor.”
Vanessa's desperation was clear. She was willing to call for the Justice Legion, the very people she swore to go against for their vigilantism, if it meant saving Helena Sandsmark, her promise be damned.
“The spell is growing far too rapidly. By the time you find someone, it will be far too late,” Ares said solemnly. “The only person in the world who can break the spell without any problem or fear of failsafe is Hecate, the Goddess of Magic. She was Circe’s mentor, and she taught her everything she could about magic. No matter how complex it is, Hecate would understand it.”
“She can help us?”
Ares shook his head. “No, she has no interest in helping the world unless it is connected to her directly, and even then, dealing with her is the worst-case scenario because there is a chance she’ll side with Circe before she even thinks of helping us.”
“So what now?” Vanessa asked, sounding defeated. “Just let Helena die? Let Cassie suffer? Let Circe win?!” she shouted angrily, finally addressing Circe by name. All of this explanation from Ares told her one thing: that the Witch had them beat, and they couldn’t do anything about it.
Ares didn’t react to her outburst, while the Spears looked worried. Tanya, for her part, tried to walk up to calm Vanessa, but the War God raised his hand to stop her, shaking his head and giving her the silent sign to let Vanessa be.
“There is one way: it will be quicker if we act fast enough, but it would take everything from all of us for it to happen,” Ares said, beginning his explanation. “There is a chain link connecting the spell, from the spell caster to Circe. This means it can be broken if we force Circe to release the chain connecting her to Helena…” he explained, letting his words be understood by the occupants in the room before finishing with one last note. “Killing Circe would also break the binding if she didn’t leave any contingencies.”
Vanessa gritted her teeth. “So we have to make her break the spell, and hopefully she doesn’t screw us over… or we kill her, and hopefully she still doesn’t screw us over even in death?” she asked, and Ares nodded. “What kind of person is willing to put in all that work? Just for revenge? On Diana, who is long gone?”
Ares shrugged and turned to the Spears, his gaze focused on Tanya, his daughter. Someone whom he never thought he would meet again was facing him, without knowledge of their blood relations.
“Possibly,” Ares answered, taking a step back. “But if there is one thing I know for sure, Circe does not put these kinds of bindings without any reason. Whatever that reason is involves Cassandra Sandsmark and whether she will choose to make Circe break the spell or kill her, tainting her forever.”
Silence came to the room, letting Ares’s words sink in for all occupants, which might have been the same words he said to the Sandsmarks.
*************************************************************
The room of Somya Spears was quiet, with the only sound being the breathing of Helena Sandsmark lying on the bed sleeping. The room was spacious, with an expensive queen-sized bed as expected from an interim CEO of one the largest companies in the world.
Seated a few feet away on a chair was Cassandra Sandsmark, dressed in fresh clothes given to her by Somya after throwing off the bloody tattered ones she had arrived in. Watching her mother closely, Cassandra’s mind was racing, especially after what Ares told her about the curse Circe placed on her mother, slowly destroying her soul bit by bit until she was nothing but a husk.
“Dammit!” In anger at their situation, she crushed the armchair, tearing its arm off like it was made of paper. If she was stronger, faster, and had the heart for it, she would have stopped the Witch, stopped her from hurting her city, the people of SCYTHE, and those caught in the crossfire, stopped her from hurting her mother…
She buried her face into her hands, tears running down her eyes as she despaired. Everything she worked on after Coast City evaporated was ground up under a very powerful enemy out for revenge.
Considering Circe’s ultimatum, her city could well be gone by the time this was over.
“Artemis… please be safe…” she whispered. She had nearly had a panic attack when she heard the news of the Amazon heading to SCYTHE HQ to stop the prison break, and then… nothing. No matter how many times she dialed her phone, there was no one answering, and she feared for the worst.
She heard her mother coughing, and Cassandra was quickly by her side. “Mom!” she called for her, holding her hand.
“Cassandra?...” Her mother said her name weakly. Her skin was becoming paler, a clear sign that the curse spell was working. “Are you… ok?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Cassandra answered, covering the bandages hidden inside her clothes. “We’re safe. You’re safe.” she said, tightening both her hands around her mothers.
“Did you… break something?” She asked, looking at the chair behind her. “You shouldn’t be… doing that… we are guests…”
Cassandra laughed, her tears falling away. “Sorry… it’s just… it’s been a hell of a week…”
Helena touched her daughter’s cheek, noticing the bandage on it. “You’re… hurt…”
“It’s alright, Mom. Just a few bruises,” Cassandra assured. “You shouldn’t worry, you know I can take it…”
“I am your… mother, Cassandra,” Helena said, facing her daughter. “Demi-God or not… I will always be worried… scared for my little girl.”
Cassandra’s tears came back. Seeing her mother remain strong despite everything made her happy, and she was terrified of losing her.
“So… my soul is cursed?” Helena asked.
“You heard all that?”
“Can’t not… with all the swearing…” Helena noted, giving her daughter a small smile. “You shouldn’t swear at people, Cassandra, especially those who are trying to help.”
“I know, I know,” Cassandra said. She had gone off on Ares after he explained what happened to her mother, and she might have overreacted when she put all her anger on the former War God. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose you… not while we can fix this.”
Helena sat up on her bed, fully facing her daughter. “Which is why… I don’t want you to make the wrong choice.”
“I won’t,” Cassandra said with a low tone. “I will make Circe free you from this curse-”
“No, Cassandra,” Helena grabbed both of Cassandra’s hands with hers. “That is not what I meant…”
Cassandra raised her brows, confused. “Mom?”
“I heard everything… from Circe’s spell… how it works… and how it can be broken…” Helena said, shocking Cassandra. “I know you already decided what you feel you have to do.”
Cassandra didn’t answer, avoiding her mother’s disapproving gaze accusing her. Ares said the quickest way to break the binding and the spell was either by forcing Circe to break it herself or by killing her, severing the connection.
But if what Circe said was true, that Diana decided to kill her instead of making her surrender like everyone else who faced her, that means there was no chance the Witch would submit willingly. She would rather die than give the satisfaction of admitting defeat.
Which left only one solution where she could save her mother.
Helena sighed, knowing what decision her daughter might have made. She held her hand tightly and changed the subject. “I have to tell you something…”
“No, mom. You’re not giving me the ‘Dying Speech’, not while there is a chance we can save you-”
“It’s about your father,” Helena cut her off, shutting Cassandra up. “Your real father…”
Cassandra remembered Circe calling her Daughter of Enlil, not Zeus. Ares said he was a friend of her father, which confused her because Ares hated Zeus, so it wouldn’t make sense that he would help out even if they were his siblings.
“Enlil…” Cassandra said the name aloud, and Helena’s eyes widened, her breath hitching when she heard the name. “Circe… she called me Daughter of Enlil… Child of the Sky...”
Helena took a deep breath, bringing her daughter closer. “Yes… that is true…” she began. “You are not Zeus’s daughter, Cassandra, nor you are an Olympian in any way… but you are in fact… Sumerian… Mesopotamian,” The elder Sandsmark brought her youngest closer and spoke carefully, as if worried that someone might hear them. “Your father is Enlil, the Sumerian God of Wind… and he was the kindest man I have ever known…”
From then on, Helena explained Cassandra’s origins as carefully as possible, pushing on even while the spell affected her. She explained how she met Enlil, a man with golden hair similar to Cassandra’s, who introduced himself as an expert in Mesopotamian history during an expedition in Iraq. They had become rivals at first due to their clashing personalities, but how that developed into respect, to eventually falling in love after a very lengthy adventure that sounded like the plot of The Mummy.
And that love resulted in Cassandra’s birth. He helped raise her with Helena for the first year and a half before he disappeared because he had Olympian enemies and had to leave them to keep them safe.
While she explained all this, Cassandra’s mind went to another piece of critical information. Her father’s true identity had never been the most important thing for her. But what made it important was what Circe told her about Diana’s true reason for coming to Gateway City. It wasn’t just settling in a ‘piss-end of a city’ the more she taught about it, the more she realized the terrifying truth behind her mentor’s reasoning for coming to the city.
Diana was sent to find Cassandra, a Sumerian Demi-God, the Olympians greatest enemy since the Titans, and eliminate her. The prophecy of the Godkiller that they had feared might have come from Cassandra, but all it did was start a long, personal, and bloody war between two women because of the gods' demands for blood.
And now, she, Artemis, and Gateway City suffered the consequences. Even after Diana’s death, Circe would not let her hatred for what had happened to her go, and if it meant destroying her mentor’s legacy, she would do it.
‘Diana…’ Cassandra thought in sadness.
*************************************************************
SCYTHE Sub Base - Industrial District:
“I am not sure how you were able to do it, but you somehow found an ever more depressing place than that HQ of yours. It makes the cell you put us in look like a five-star hotel room,” said one Pamela Isley, formerly Poison Ivy, seated in the middle of a large room behind a large table. Around her were what was left of the SCYTHE agents they had saved during the escape, all working to get the makeshift base they had hidden up and running.
Alexei Abramovici, the Bloodcrow of SCYTHE, glared at the former supervillain, not happy with her comment. He turned to one of his men and began barking orders, “You! Get the goddamn Black Room working! We are running blind here!”
‘Worker drones even without their Commander.’ Pamela looked on unimpressed at the agents. She had never been that sympathetic to the plight of cops getting killed, especially militarized ones. The once mighty and feared peacekeepers of Gateway, who went to war against all the crime syndicates and the Red Centipedes, were now a mere little squad that won’t be able to protect a mini-mart, let alone every escaped convict under the command of the White Magician.
“Man… the signal here sucks!” complained Miguel Barragan by her side, raising his phone and trying to catch any kind of signal. “Could barely talk to my boyfriend when I called him, and can’t connect to the internet,” he complained. He tried once again to call but he couldn’t find a signal. “Useless brick…”
“We are underground in a bunker previously owned by Neo-Nazis, Barragan,” Pamela noted. From what she had heard, this used to be an old RedCent hideout that SCYTHE took over after the war, using it as a smaller base in case of emergency. “Not receiving any signal is part of the appeal of the place.”
“Bunker, huh…” Miguel chuckled. The name Bunker reminded him of the super name that he picked out; the more time passed, the more convinced he was that it was the right one.
Pamela gave a confused look at his expression and shrugged it off. Turning to her right, she saw the silent Emily Sung staring off into the distance. Unlike Barragan, Emily had other matters on her mind. Whatever she sensed or saw back at SCYTHE HQ freaked her out, like seeing something she shouldn’t.
Just as Pamela was about to ask her how she was feeling, a knock on the large blast doors echoed around the base, loud enough for all to hear. Quickly, everyone felt tense, and the SCYTHE agents covered the door as Alexei signaled them to aim their weapons. After the news of the escaped convicts taking control of SCYTHE HQ and their equipment and weaponry, the agents knew that they were being haunted now by the convicts looking for revenge, so they were not taking any chances.
“Would you mind opening the door!” A familiar voice said behind the door, a voice Pamela recognized right away. “I have a bloody Amazon here, and I would like her off my fur!”
“Barbara?” Pamela realized.
“Minerva? As in the Cheetah?” Alexei asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “She could be working with them, with the White Magician.”
“She isn’t,” Pamela answered, glaring at the SCYTHE soldier for the accusation. “She would never ally with the psychos you had under lock and key.”
Alexei scoffed. “That woman got a cemetery filled with people who say otherwise, and she hurt the mother of someone I know.”
Before the two could argue, Miguel stood up and decided to take action. He extended his hand, forming a large arm construct from it, and grabbed the handle of the blast door. With one pull, he opened it wide. Barbara entered. Her feline form made some of the SCYTHE agents tense, and weapons were still trained on her.
“Quite the welcoming committee…” she noted in sarcasm. “Now, would you be dears and get this woman some help?” She adjusted the unconscious and bloody Artemis on her back. Her blood covered Barbara’s fur.
“Medic!” Alexei called for an agent nearby before turning to Miguel. “And you, don’t use your freaky powers until I order you to do so.”
“Sorry tin man, I don’t speak fascist,” Miguel responded with a smirk, and Alexei glared at him.
The medic quickly came to Barbara and guided her to a nearby makeshift hospital room, which had a bed and various equipment to help the SCYTHE wounded. Barbara went in haste, and gently, with the help of the medic, they placed the injured Amazon on the bed, her blood soaking the white sheets red.
“How the hell did you even find us?” Alexei asked as he and the others entered. “I made sure I covered all our steps.”
“You did,” Barbara noted, stepping back to let the medic check on Artemis. She turned to Alexei and pointed at her nose. “But one of you has a very special pheromone that I can smell for miles,” she said with a smile as she turned her gaze to Pamela. “Still with those rose scents around you.”
The redhead smiled. “Maybe it’s that mark you left on me.”
“More than you think, Pammy.”
“Christ…” the medic gasped, catching everyone’s attention. “How is she still alive? And how long has she been like this?” He asked, examining the injured Amazon.
Her armor was wholly wrecked, beyond repair. Her headpiece was half broken, and the gauntlets and braces on her arms and legs were dented and unusable. Her injuries were severe: open wounds, slash marks, and burn marks were all over her body, and judging from blows on her armor, she might have had a few broken bones as well.
“Didn’t bother to look at the time with some of the grunts that were sent after us,” Barbara answered, leaning on a nearby chair as fatigue finally set in for her. “But these Amazons are too stubborn to die, and I know that from experience…”
The number of times Barbara thought she had beaten Diana only for the Amazon to get back up and beat her back was many, and it frustrated the woman to no end, but now she couldn’t help but be in awe at the resilience of these warriors.
“Her Amazon gifts will heal her,” Barbara noted. “But I am not sure how long it will take…”
“I doubt it will take more than a few days at least…” the medic noted, bringing out some bandages and wrapping them around her arms. “She will need a miracle to even walk out of here on her own two feet.”
“Uhmm…” Everyone in the room turned to Emily Sung, who stood by the doorway. “I… I think I can help her heal faster.”
Barbara and the medic gave her an odd look. To better explain it, Emily brought her hands together, and a small flame began to form from her palm. However, they weren’t bright orange flames; they were blue flames, and they didn’t feel any heat from them.
“I developed this technique while training,” said Emily. “It's a fire spell that doesn’t burn, but it heals people. I first used it on Miguel when he hurt his hands, and it was instantaneous,” she explained, and Miguel showed his fully healed hand as if he was demonstrating it. “But this will be the first time I will heal someone with this severe of injuries…”
Pamela and Barbara looked at the blue flames with wide eyes. In Pamela’s case, she was told that Emily had powers, and from Miguel’s description, she had the power of all the elements. However, seeing it firsthand and feeling it from just that tiny flame made her sense there was power behind it, warmth, like the sun.
“Do it,” Barbara said, taking a step back. “At this point, if we need magic to get her back into the fight, we better get to it before we lose her for real.” She turned to the shocked medic. This was the first time he would ever see magic in play. “And you, guide her in whatever wounds need to be healed.”
The medic nodded. It was better than nothing. With his guidance and Miguel’s support by her side, Emily went to work to heal Wonder Woman, who was in a state of life and death if they didn’t work fast enough, all while Circe and her crew were out there terrorizing the city.
“What’s the news out there?” Alexei asked after the three left the infirmary room. “We are in the dark here, and I couldn’t radio in anyone with the pieces of junk we got. Not even my brother, who was trying to get as many agents as possible.”
“Brother?” Barbara asked before she realized who his brother was. Her expression became solemn. She remembered the Warhammer who stayed behind to slow Circe and her crew, giving Barbara a chance to escape with Artemis on her back. “The guy with the Hammer…”
Alexei furrowed his brows, noticing the change in her expression. “What happened to my brother?”
Barbara took a deep breath and began explaining everything that had happened: the White Magician’s true identity, her taking over SCYTHE HQ, her ultimatum to Wonder Girl, and finally, Anatoly Abromivici’s sacrifice to save them.
*************************************************************
Somewhere in Gateway…
With the loss of SCYTHE and their headquarters, the surviving agents didn’t have the necessary support from the intel agents in the Black Room to fight off against the newly revived Red Centipedes, now grown more powerful with the help of the escaped convicts, more than happy to exact revenge.
With the bridges closed off, SCYTHE’s weakened state, and Wonder Woman being presumed dead, the city had been thrown into chaos. Streets filled with criminals and looters taking full advantage of what had happened, stealing anything from everyone across the island.
Red Centipedes roamed the streets with military trucks, taken from SCYTHE after their HQ had fallen to the White Magician’s control, making full use of their hardware to hunt down any surviving agent, delivering the message that they were the new peacekeepers of Gateway.
“Let me go!”
A woman, a worker from Taco Whiz, was being dragged from the streets by a group of RedCent grunts. Taken into a nearby corner, the RedCent dropped the worker on the dirty ground. Their eyes had terrible intentions behind them.
“Come on, man,” one RedCent grunt said from behind to his buddy. “We are supposed to find those SCYTHE fuckers, not mess around.”
“You’re serious?” The buddy looked at his friend like he was crazy. “We’ve been locked for months in SCYTHE’s cells; we can have a few minutes of fun.”
“Please! Don’t do this!” The woman screamed, tears falling from her eyes, afraid of what they would do to her. She tried to stand up and run away but was quickly pushed back down on the pavement.
The RedCent approached the woman, who crawled away from them in fear. “Come on, girl, I just need to release all this stress after being locked up for so long!” He proclaimed, giving the woman a leery look before turning to his buddy. “Hey man, I can share! Maybe we can get someone else from the street-”
The RedCent stopped speaking, catching his breath for a moment after he saw his buddy lying on the ground face first, knocked out cold. Looking up, his eyes widened in shock when he saw the person standing before him. “You’re… you were supposed to be dead?!”
Covered in heavy bandages and wrecked NIGHT armor, and carrying a mace in his hand and a pissed-off look on his face, Commander Hector Hall stood before the RedCent grunt like a dark spectre coming back to life. Kicking the knocked-out buddy aside, the Commander looked between the grunt and the terrified woman before he hardened his glare at the RedCent.
“Stay back!” The RedCent grunt aimed his weapon, hands shaking in fear. “I said stay the fuck back-”
In a moment, Hall moved at such a speed he looked like a blur, cutting the distance between the two. With one swing of his mace, he smacked him squarely on the head, sending him to the ground.
Hall turned to the woman he saved, who looked at him in horror. “Go… get to safety…”
Without another word, the woman ran toward the exit and into the streets, away from the alley. Now alone with the two RedCents, Hall grabbed the knocked-out buddy and woke him up, making the man see the bandaged-up Hall looking down at him with hateful eyes.
“You… I want you to send your boss a message…” Hall began, making him face the Commander. “Tell the White Magician, Circe, that I am declaring war on her and on anyone who stands by her side.” He turned and walked up to the other grunt, who was crawling away from the Commander in fear, grabbing his bleeding head. He begged for his life, but Hall ignored his pleas. “And this, this is for my men that you Centipedes have killed…”
He lifted his bloody mace and brought it down like a hammer on the begging Red Centipede as his buddy looked on in horror. He lifted it up once more to reveal the man’s head was crushed like a watermelon.
Commander Hector Hall was still alive, and as long as he was still breathing, SCYTHE would remain standing to fight against all threats against Gateway City.
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Wonder Women Vol 3.

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