Anyone know whats up with Gilman Transit center? I was there from 12:55-1:20 and zero buses (except a few ucsd shuttles) showed up. Around 1:30 I saw the SIO shuttle heading up Villa La Jolla Dr (which is NOT its usual route; normally it turns right onto La Jolla Village Dr), like near the whole foods shopping center. Was there an accident or something?

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So I've been on the heavy side for quite some years, and last winter I weighted in at a new max of ~250 pounds (~115kg).
I started to eat "Healthy" (too little, and almost no carbs) and walked a minimum of 10k steps a day. I dropped 15 pounds in about a month before I crashed out by not having energy anymore. After that I bounced around from my old unhealthy habits to hyperfocus on the weighloss (but with no real planning). So when 2023 cane to a close I had gone up a few pounds again.
So what did I do? I started 2024 by just building habits. Habits of eating at regular times, and eating real food. I still had junk food from time to time, and allowed snacks a couple of times a week but it started to pay off as I spent less money on shitty food and lost a few pounds as I made my portions just a bit smaller then before. After some time I stabilized at around 230 pounds (106kg)
I started to read up on calorie expenditure, BMR and macros, and at the start of February i laid out a new eating plan. I got a food-tracking app, and spent some time writing down and measure recipes of food I usually ate. I made some adjustments to them to better fit in my new plan (adding beans to my beef tacos, swapping pasta for lentil pasta, cutting out sugary soda for zero variants, swapping my regular yogurt for low fat Greek yoghurt etc).
In the end I ended up with a goal of 1800kcal and atleast 100g of protein a day. I also tried to just have the recommended portion size of everything I ate, and etarted to keep 'decent' ready-to-eat meals in my freezer to substitute the fast food that happened to get eaten when I didn't have time to cook.
So 96 days ago I started to track my food, and overall trying to keep it in my goals. Some days I go over, but as long as I'm close i decided It was fine. This method has made it able for me to eat decent food, but still giving me room to have sweets once a week, and to have a slice of pizza and beers when I want. The main part is me losing the extreme appetit for candy and snacks.
So in these 96 days I've dropped another 15 pounds and I now weigh in a 214 pounds (97kg), and this 'diet' just doesn't feel like I diet anymore, it feels like just another day. I've managed to turn around years of unhealthy diet to something that is sustainable and doesn't feel like chore.
The next goal is 200 pounds / 90 kg sometime before fall. After that i will probably up the calories some what, and then stop the tracking all together and see if it actually sticks.
So my tips: - Build habits of eating actual food on a regular schedule. Processed and fast food is fine in a pinch but think about what you choose. - Actually read on the thing you eat, and keep it to the recommended service size. - Protein will keep you full longer, try to up the intake - (and track calories. This might not work for you, or be the right thing to do. But actually doing this was the final piece of the puzzle for me)
Good luck to you all!

can’t level the unit. it stays a few inches above the bed. asks me to level manually. it’s way too high and the 1,2,3,4 buttons don’t work (it moves after pressing 1, the rest just light up). jogging the z does nothing. turning the screws, factory reset nothing helps. z shows zero except sometimes i can get it to show plus 10 because it’ll jog up once. home sends it to about 2.5 inches above the bed. x and y jog controls only work sporadically.
help!

TLDR:

At the small post we were on, the 25m zero range and qual range SDZ's did not allow for firing these rifles. Something we only learned after confirming our zeros on the 25m range.
It's still heavy, but after a day or so you stop noticing it until you have to shoot from a standing position or doing are doing CQB. then you are painfully reminded how off balance the rifle is.
The two sample rifles we had were consistently 3 MOA guns.
The non-reciprocating charging handle on the left side is not as cool as I initially thought, and it ruins the whole "truly ambidextrous" feel that the Sig MCX line has.
The folding buttstock can go fuck itself.

A review of the 277 Fury rounds is here and you may need to read it for some context, but I have endeavored to make this review stand alone as much as possible.
Over the course of three days, a friend of mine and I lived with the M7 Spear. We spent time at various ranges, doing "tactical stuff", getting in and out of HMMWV's and GSA's, while trying to figure out the ins-and-outs of the rifle.
My sample, #087, had between 8K and 10K round rounds through it. The number of combat vs training rounds was not tracked, but given the expected barrel life is 10K combat rounds we ran a borescope through the barrel and the chamber to see what we could see.
His sample, #529, had between 6K and 8K of an unknown mix combat and training rounds through it. We ran the borescope through it as well.
There was no real difference in the wear between the two rifles.
We spent the morning of the first day playing around with the ammunition and doing comparisons against 308 168gr SMK, while the ultrasonic cleaner did Gods work on the various bits and bobs of our sample rifles.

Note when we did the ammo comparison we used a Remington 700PSS with 24" barrel. It quickly became apparent when we were testing the rifles, that was a poor benchmark, as the Remington outperformed both rifles in everything but rate of fire. Its a sniper rifle, granted its your Grandfather's sniper rifle, but its still a fucking sniper rifle. The Spear is not, its a battlerifle, and so I won't be including the comparisons here.

We tried cleaning them without the ultrasonic cleaner...but I'm not sure these rifles had ever been properly cleaned before.
I've got mixed feelings about the MCX system. It ticks a lot of boxes, short stroke gas piston, no need for a buffer tube or spring, superior handling of gas when suppressed and so on.
However, when it comes down to the nitty-gritty of the maintenance? I absolutely despise it. Despite owning a MCX in 300 blackout myself, every cleaning session feels overly complex and time consuming.
We kicked off the afternoon with both rifles, setting up for grouping and zeroing—my rig was outfitted with the Tango 6T sporting the "Hellfire" reticle in MOA, resembling your standard rifle scope setup. His, on the other hand, featured the same Tango 6T but with Hellfire in MILS, decked out with the Christmas tree reticle.
Some time back, I made a comment after my initial rounds with the Spear, labeling it a "tack driver." In hindsight, I probably should have clarified that bit. Typically, when shooting a new rifle, if I land three out of five shots within a 1 to 1.5 MOA spread, I chalk up any outliers to user error rather than blaming the rifle or the ammunition.
However, it appears that assumption was a bit off.
Our zeroing and grouping efforts at 100 yards turned into quite the saga. We found ourselves mostly hitting 3 rounds within the 1 to 1.5 MOA range, but occasionally, one or two shots would balloon the group size to between 2.5 and 3 MOA.
Instead of descending into frustration and stubborn attempts to tighten these groups, we opted to settle for anything under three MOA as acceptable for our purposes and proceeded to finalize our zero.

Side note, my last zero group was my best of the day coming it at just over 2 MOA. My friends best group came in at 1.8, and quite honestly he's a better shot than I am.

Research shows that the original specs for the NGSW called for a 4 MOA battle rifle. Despite some noticeable barrel wear on our two test models, both rifles still performed beyond this requirement.
Following our grouping and zeroing session, we spent the remainder of the afternoon plinking with training rounds at 100 yards.
During this, I learned a hard lesson about the non-reciprocating charging handle—it needs to be firmly locked forward before hitting the bolt release on the left side. After a couple of painful mishaps and a few close calls, I finally caught on and made it a routine to ensure the handle was properly set before engaging the bolt release.
I really wanted to get on board with the side charging handle, but after three days, I'm just not a fan. It tended to snag on my gear (Eagle MARCRIS plate carrier) when maneuvering or positioning the rifle to fire, making it less convenient than I had hoped.
Interestingly, I found myself using it more during offhand shooting. I'd instinctively remove my left hand from the pistol grip to work the side charging handle, rather than using my right hand on the traditional top charging handle. Yes, I'm aware this breaks the cardinal rule of keeping your firing hand on the grip, but this method felt more intuitive, similar to operating a bolt-action rifle.
When shooting offhand, the rifle scores highly. I don't often shoot this way, but I encountered none of the usual drawbacks associated with traditional AM platforms. Aside from the tricky side charging handle, the rifle seemed inherently designed for ambidextrous use, which I particularly appreciated when firing left-handed.
I was tempted to launch into a tirade about the ridiculously designed folding stock, but you deserve a more structured critique. Here are the three major gripes:

The stock's release mechanism is a convoluted affair involving an awkward dance of pushing down on the rifle while yanking up on the buttstock just to get it to close.
Once "closed," the stock doesn't truly secure—it juts out at a precarious 20-degree angle, seemingly relying on mere friction to stay in place, which neither of our samples managed successfully.
The overall build felt flimsy and loose, perhaps a consequence of the extensive wear from firing 8,000 to 10,000 rounds.

After wrestling with these issues, we wrapped up with a quick cleaning session for the rifles before heading out to the range we’d "camping" at.
The next day, we arrived ready to group, zero, and qualify with a local unit. We had informed them of our visit and assumed everything was squared away with range control.
However, that assumption fell flat. Turns out, the range’s surface danger zones weren’t set up for the 277 Fury. Just as we finished dialing in our zero (.75 inches low at 25m), range control showed up, questioning our activities.
Following an awkward exchange and the diplomatic offering of a case of beer, they agreed to let us continue and even served as OIC and RSO for the KD range. We proceeded with the old KD qualification, alternating between marking and raising targets, and both of us qualified without any issues.
With some extra time on our hands, and much to the amusement of range control, the session evolved into a lively mix of burpees and sprinting between shooting positions. We experimented with various firing positions and sequences, such as starting from standing unsupported at 100 yards and moving down to kneeling unsupported. This exercise underscored the rifle’s heft yet manageability, while also highlighting how the forward-heavy balance made extended unsupported shooting particularly taxing on the arms and upper back.
The afternoon unfolded with battledrills and land navigation alongside the unit we were scheduled to qualify with. Given the theoretical roles and limited numbers, the platoon leader assigned us to the designated marksman/squad designated marksman roles, which was logical considering we were the only ones equipped with the new rifles while the rest of the squad used M4s.
This setup sparked an intense discussion among the officers about how tactical deployment might shift once the rifle was fully integrated into service. There was plenty of speculation on how military tactics and doctrines would need to adapt to leverage the new capabilities offered by this rifle.
However, I'm somewhat skeptical. I don't see this rifle as the revolutionary game-changer it’s touted to be. While it's undoubtedly suited for the designated marksman role, I doubt the Army will invest the necessary time, money, and resources to train every soldier to this level of proficiency. Consider that there are reserve units that only qualify every four years, often just to help "point-needy" soldiers piggyback for qualification. This rifle won’t alter that reality.
As for the night qualification, we were slated to test that as well, but circumstances didn’t allow for it, so I can’t comment on how the rifle performs at night with night vision devices.
On the third morning, we headed to the LMG range, ready to go full-auto from a bipod, gearing up to tackle the 249 qualification.
Honestly, this was the most amazing shooting experience I've had in ages. The only snag was the 20-round magazine capacity, which felt limiting amid the thrill—it was the only moment of frustration in an otherwise splendid session.
We ran a practice session with the training rounds, followed by a qualification shoot with both the training and combat rounds. By lunchtime, our shoulders were thoroughly sore, but I can't remember the last time I'd grinned that much in a long while.
Post-lunch, we dropped in on some local law enforcement officers who were operating a shoot house. Initially, we navigated the course with M4s to familiarize ourselves with the layout and safety protocols. After getting a handle on things, we switched to the M7s, running through the course using the last of our training rounds, having depleted our combat rounds earlier on the machine gun range.
Both of us found ourselves moving significantly slower with the M7s. Reviewing the footage, it was clear that I was painfully slow to get on target with the M7. It wasn't just about slower movements, but also a delayed response in engagement. Initially, I chalked it up to age, I'm over 50 and a bit heavier than ideal, but the reality struck when I saw I wasn’t this slow with the M4. In fact, I was quicker than some of the officers.
Similarly, my buddy was slower than usual, not lagging behind me, but certainly off his usual pace with the M4.
Interesting side note: We're no longer welcome at that shoot house. The staff was fully aware of our arrival and what we brought along, and everything seemed fine until the exercise wrapped up and we faced some "constructively harsh feedback" about 277 and damage done to the tire and sandbag walls as well as the plywood target backers.
That's rant for another time.
Regarding the suppressor:
It's really more of an enhanced flash hider than a true suppressor. I'm probably a bit biased—shooting a 300 Blackout through a Sig TI suppressor spoils you with its movie hitman silence.
By comparison, the M7 setup was louder than my suppressed .308 shooting 175gr SMK.
On the topic of the optic:
The Tango6 was decent.
The clarity was impressive, and its brightness and MOA configuration were points in its favor.
However, achieving a consistent cheek weld and finding the right optic position for proper eye relief across magnifications 1 through 6, especially from unsupported positions, proved challenging.
The issue could be me, the stock, or the optic itself. While it was somewhat bothersome, it wasn't enough to cause significant frustration.

Hi,
The below post is about a 5 min read. I can’t comment about the content but I think it reads well so it hopefully won’t be the worst five minutes of your day.

I am a thirty year old man. I live with my parents but not because I need to. My father is a dementia patient and my mom is the primary caregiver so I stay at home to help her out. I have a good job. It is fully remote and I make decent money. I have had a less than ideal relationship with my father. Growing up he wasn't around much because of his job and when he was home he wasn't very approachable. He has always had terrible anger issues and from a very young age we have been conditioned to walk on eggshells around him. I have an older brother. He is married and lives with his family. We were living with him but as my father's disease progressed it wasn't possible to continue living there for both the disease and his home infrastructure related reasons. We're relatively well off so money thankfully isn't a problem.
I have always had a strained relationship with my father. He was very loving when I was a child but ever since my early adolescence he has never liked me. He loves my brother a lot.My brother had spine related problems as a kid and they had to take him to various hospitals each year and for a few years he had to wear a spinal brace so he had a strained childhood. This really endeared him to my parents. They never pushed him for anything academically or otherwise but he turned out well. He is a good person although he has his problems. As my parents never pushed him for anything they chose me as the child to exercise their high expectations. I did well in school. They had relatively high expectations of me which was fine. The issue was that in the off chance I did not meet those expectations I would be subjected to severe condemnation. And the condemnation was severe. My father, especially since my early adolescence, never talked to me like his son or a child. He always talked to me like I was some hardened criminal. There was never any affection or understanding. If I did well which I often did there were no congratulations. He did not like me having friends for he was scared I'd fall into bad company. He encouraged my brother to have friends as that would help him fit in with his physical issues. My mother wasn't very affectionate either. For her I was the child whose academic performance she could use for clout amongst her peers. She never balanced out my father's attitude towards me. Rather she encouraged it. I told her but she always dismissed it saying it wasn't so. My father was never around much to ever teach me anything but he would get really mad when I made any sort of mistake. He expected me to know everything. There was a time when he could not stand being in the same room as me and would tell me to leave. I thought this was normal until one day my aunt pointed it out. That was the first time I had an inkling that maybe this behavior wasn't normal. Until a year or so before he lost his mind completely to the disease he would taunt me indirectly in front of everyone by saying how much he liked my brother. He didn't do this to say how much he loved my brother but rather how much he hated me. He would casually call me a coward. I really despised my parents growing up. At a young age I would repeatedly cry myself to sleep thinking one day I'll a make a lot of money and return all the money they had spent on my upbringing, which they always made a point of telling me, down to the expense of the hospital for my birth, with interest and tell them that I was no longer their son. I'd change my name and piss off somewhere and never return.
I have never thought of myself as a good person. I have always thought of myself as the scum of the earth. More my parents tried to keep me away from bad company the more I was drawn to it. I lived different lives inside and outside the house. I always hung out with people who were not at my academic level and the delinquents. I had multiple accents. I started drinking and smoking cigarettes and marijuana at a relatively young age. I have always been addicted to porn. Addiction has always been a problem for me. To this day I struggle with it. It has always been the one true constant in my life. About a year and a half ago as my father's health was deteriorating fast and I could not cope with it. I was drinking heavily and got bloated and sick. Alcohol and marijuana were not just doing it for me. At that time a lot of self improvement content was coming on my youtube feed. Having never exercised in my life, I decided that I had to make an effort to change because I was now the man of the house. I needed to take responsibility so I did. I started working out regularly at home and over time I lost all my excess weight and developed a significant amount of muscle. That also helped me kick my alcohol and smoking addiction although I do still drink and smoke but about twice a week when my mind gets triggered. Working out has become my new addiction. It is hard for me to not workout these days. I have to force myself to take a rest day. It replaced my other addictions but it has not become my saving grace. Rather just another source of escape from my mind. Some days I really overdo it. I need the chemicals.
By far the aspect of my life which has suffered the most are relationships. I have never been able to be truly close to anyone be it friends, family or romantic relationships. I have always struggled with relationships but in the last few I have become completely socially isolated. I have zero empathy just like my father but unlike him I have the ability to recognize it in myself. I cannot look at anyone around me as a human including myself. I feel like an animal and the world feels like a jungle. I am affectionate in my romantic relationships but innately I don't feel any sense of love or desire for companionship. Overtime I end up resenting the person. It just feels like more responsibility. Another person I owe something to. Now I completely avoid romantic relationships altogether. I used to feel sad when I thought about these things but now I don't feel anything at all. These days I date women for a month and then ghost them. My social isolation has conversely improved my ability to charm women. I don't feel any sort of attraction to anyone anymore irrespective of how attractive they are. As I don't feel "human" I don't see them as such either. They're just another entity separate from me. I'm very observant and overtime have learnt to spot behavioral patterns especially in women. With experience I know how to initiate physical contact and mostly they're just spell bound. They feel I'm so confident whereas I don't feel anything at all. Just standard procedure. Although I don't like talking to them I continue to do so for some time until suddenly I don't. Then I don't think twice about them. I feel the same way about friendships.
I'm neither optimistic nor pessimistic. I'm just numb to the idea of the future. I am writing this because I need some perspective. Anything from advice to abuse is highly appreciated. I don't intend to go to a therapist because I can never be this vulnerable in front of someone in flesh and blood and I will never take any medication. Thank you for reading. Please drop in some comments.

I (42F) moved out 2 months ago and divorce is on the table with my husband (44M), married 16 years. Some red flags in the first 7 years, but mostly positive. After kids and a bad job situation he was awful. Afraid to leave him awful. Raging at me and the kids, physically intimidating (but not touching), smashing and throwing things, getting drunk all the time, zero accountability, no concern for the damage he was wrecking and had victim mentality that everything was my fault, his job’s fault, the kids fault.
Three years ago I told him to leave, he begged and made promises to change, we went to counseling. He stopped throwing things and yelling, but his anger was still there. If he didn’t get his way, if I didn’t agree with him on something, if the kids were cranky, he would snap at us and sit on the couch and get drunk for days and ignore everyone. Every couple months over stupid things.
In between he would bounce back to normal or be extra nice, getting up early to do the dishes, buying flowers, showering me with compliments, being patient and involved with the kids, being super dad. Meanwhile, I am struggling to get over the last fight, waiting for the next explosion, trying to prevent an issue by not saying things that might cause a negative reaction, trying to buffer the kids so they don’t set him off.
We got into an argument about something stupid six months ago, and he screamed in my face and kicked in a door. I told him I can’t do it anymore. I want divorce.
He love bombed hard for months, “I’m so sorry, I’m going to change, I’m going to counseling, I love you. I failed you.” That didn’t bring me back so it switched to “everything is your fault, you didn’t communicate, I was trying so hard, you didn’t reciprocate, you didn’t praise me, I was confused and had no idea there was an issue”. Then it turned hateful. “You’re evil, you’re poisoning the kids against me, you’re mentally ill, disassociating, and a f-ing psycho bitch.”
We tried shared parenting for the last couple months and he kicked our son (9) out of the house dramatically 4 times. He kicked me out of his (still our) house and threatened to call the police on me after inviting me there, he came to my new place and was screaming and swearing at me in front of our kids, I did call the police. He’s harassed and cut me emotionally and spit venom at every opportunity since I left.
And now he’s sorry and he was just hurting so much and didn’t mean it, he loves me. In the last couple weeks of his newfound clarity and calm we talked and cried, and I was considering going back. He wanted to go to counseling and I said I don’t know if it’ll help, you’ll be more mad in a few months saying I wasted your time if it doesn’t.
He heard that as a rejection again, flipped out, stormed out, started sending me hurtful texts, pictures of my kid crying saying this is what you’re doing to them, sending me pics of all the girls he’s dating to replace me, telling me how he hopes I suffer and cry every day.
Then again,.. “I’m sorry, you broke me, you made me act like that, I’m willing to do anything and I’ll get help.” Followed up with “You’re mentally ill, you changed, it’s your fault, I’m a good man, I go to church and volunteer, how can I be the problem, you’re grumpy, you have unrealistic expectations, you turned into your mother, this is normal and you’re just giving up..”
Why do I still love this person? Why can’t I just walk away? Why am I wavering? Why am I mourning the end so hard? Is it about him at all or am I just afraid of being alone? What if he really is sorry and will change and I’ll miss out on the life and love I wanted? Am I the problem and drove him to this? Am I making too big of a deal of the last 3 years of silencing and silent treatments instead of focusing on the positive? Did I not do enough? Try enough?
I know this is not okay. Part of me is afraid to leave him, I think staying would be less hurtful for the kids and I. Which says how bad this is. He’s really laying the blame and gaslighting on thick right now to where I almost believe him. I feel crazy. I’m not right?!?

Any effect worth a damn is limited to Normal summon only so your other searcher typically gets you more leverage. Not to mention your monsters have to survive an opponent's turn to use the damn thing. They typically don't even battle the monsters they just shart my hole field dude like fuck off.
I get that the traps are supposed help but I brick like it's a job I either don't open open with pudica or have zero traps somehow .

Im not the person involved but they asked me to post this for some anonymous opinions.
TLDR: husband was nice then turned abusive. 2nd kid is now jaded by everything we say or do and is an emotional and physical recluse. can't reach out to him and am deeply horrified of what ive done over the past years.
So background info. me and my husband are both around late 40s -early 50s. i married him pretty young.he seemed like a decent person. he was handsome and had a good job so i agreed to the marriage. we dated for 2 years and he was super sweet and then we got married. he was a little religious but not crazy about it at all. we had 3 kids (25,23,14).
Ever since my sons were 3-5 the problems started. he would blame me for their poor eyesight at such a young age and says it was due to my poor eyesight when pregnant. i dont know if that is how genes work but whatever i accepted and he apologised profusely. but as the years went by he became more religious and more dogmatic about certain stuff. which is hypocritical since he smokes cigarettes. he also quit his well paying job mentioned earlier and never seemed to hold a job for more than 1 year. i was working at a bank since 20 and had a super stressful but stable career thus far. well as the boys grew he also caned them. i know it is not an excuse and this will most definitely out me as a horrible person but everyone did it back then...
Well as the years went by he became more abusive and pushed and shoved me around too. he also slapped me a few times. both our parents were involved and we almost divorced but did not do so. our mistake. well my eldest turned to religion, while my younger son turned full rebel mode. and recently a few years ago during 2020 or 2021 he completely gave up on going out the house or doing anything citing our constant arguments as a reason. he then maintained zero/low contact with my husband and we all continued to live in the same household. everyone in my extended family loves my husband and thinks we are a perfect family. however i also cheated on him at the height of his abuse in 2009-2011.
My 2nd son currently has zero friends and refuses to make friends or go out or do anything a young 20s man should be doing. i kept bugging him about why and he one time shouted at me and said it is because of you 2 actors. he said "you guys portray the best marriage outside, but inside the home you've shown me everything a couple shouldn't do. everyone feels fake to me outside and it's because of you. when i save enough money im getting out of here" i was of course deeply hurt even though it is my fault. but im sad that my boy doesn't appreciate all ive done over the 20 years. i do most of the housework, bring in the money, and cook their food. it's just a mess now and i think i lost him forever.
Even his siblings who he is close to have stopped bringing up their father infront of him and have kind of accepted the relationship between them is permanently broken. my husband usually never budges for a grudge and my younger son is ironically the most similar to him. so they both ego battle-d by refusing to talk to each other but my younger son was serious about this. and now my husband also realises what he's done and begs him everyday.
I have ruined everything and feel so crap now. haven't been able to focus on work for the past 2 years and going through perimenopause(?) as i have alot of the symptoms. just can't deal with it anymore. need some carthasis and some scolding so i decided to ask one of my nephews to post it on this anonymous site.

Hi everyone. New to this sub. Please remove if inappropriate.
We just moved into a house on a larger plot of land, about 1/3 acre. I'm firmly in middle age and am tired of pushing a mower.
I tend to be frugal so I've started to look for a used riding mower. I don't think I necessarily need zero-turn (although I hear they are awesome and am open to them.)
What are recommendations for brands/models I could realistically find for around 1K that would be dependable?
I found a John Deere E110 nearby that's 1.2K with 169 hours on it. From the pics it looks to be in good shape, clean and likely stored indoors. However the reviews I've read complain that it's rather low-end and may have some cheap parts. And of course it's older so even if it's well maintained you just never know.
Thoughts on that model in particular? Or in general, are there tips on what to look for in a decent, workhorse, suburban dad riding mulching mower?

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by your fear’ and…something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…those…to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by your fear’ and…something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…those…to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Hey there!
I'm a programmer / weeb and gaming is a very large part of my life, and i need friends who can vibe with that. I love making mods for japanese games. I'm extremely passionate about challenging or complex content.
Stuff like...
Action: Kingdom Hearts 3 Pro Codes, Xenoblade, Tales of series, (Vesperia, Xillia, Zestiria, Berseria, Arise, etc) Turn based: persona, dragon quest 11S Draconian, Chrono trigger lavos awakens, mario RPG armageddon, octopath. Souls: bloodborne, strangers of paradise, lies of P Grid Based: Fire Emblem Ironman, Super robot wars. Bullet hell: Touhou Rhythm: Hatsune miku MegaMix or DJ Max Roguelikes: the Binding of isaac, Shiren, Izuna Visual novels: Umineko, Stiens Gate, Zero Escape, Danganronpa, ace attorney, raging loop Open world: breath of the wild Puzzle: Catherine, La Mulana Hack and slash: devil may cry, Bayonetta, Nier automata, Dungeon Crawlers: etrian odyssey, labyrinth of touhou Unique: startropics, knights Fighting: guilty gear, DNF Duel MMO: FF14, Runescape Sidescroller: megaman, Gunvolt Metroidvanias: ...okay they mostly stopped making them >_>; (Rabi-Ribi?) ETC ETC.
I enjoy hanging out over discord & parsec a lot, and i'm free most of the time. I'm an ex-streamer who stopped to focus on meeting new people and spending time with them as my #1 priority. I put together a huge lists of games i'm interested in playing, and even if your interests are specialized, i'll try and find some common ground. I'm not interested in people who just play once a week, and especially not anyone who says they use games as an "escape from reality". I really want to share these deep unique gaming experiences with others and connect my passions with them. I'm looking for others who feel the same. It's the spark of life, of the soul, and i really want to find people who feel this.
I live in north york, part of the grand toronto area. People close are ideal, but i'll accept anyone. Hit me up on discord! My discord: Dawnbomb

Hey there!
I'm a programmer / weeb and gaming is a very large part of my life, and i need friends who can vibe with that. I love making mods for japanese games. I'm extremely passionate about challenging or complex content.
Stuff like...
Action: Kingdom Hearts 3 Pro Codes, Xenoblade, Tales of series, (Vesperia, Xillia, Zestiria, Berseria, Arise, etc) Turn based: persona, dragon quest 11S Draconian, Chrono trigger lavos awakens, mario RPG armageddon, octopath. Souls: bloodborne, strangers of paradise, lies of P Grid Based: Fire Emblem Ironman, Super robot wars. Bullet hell: Touhou Rhythm: Hatsune miku MegaMix or DJ Max Roguelikes: the Binding of isaac, Shiren, Izuna Visual novels: Umineko, Stiens Gate, Zero Escape, Danganronpa, ace attorney, raging loop Open world: breath of the wild Puzzle: Catherine, La Mulana Hack and slash: devil may cry, Bayonetta, Nier automata, Dungeon Crawlers: etrian odyssey, labyrinth of touhou Unique: startropics, knights Fighting: guilty gear, DNF Duel MMO: FF14, Runescape Sidescroller: megaman, Gunvolt Metroidvanias: ...okay they mostly stopped making them >_>; (Rabi-Ribi?) ETC ETC.
I enjoy hanging out over discord & parsec a lot, and i'm free most of the time. I'm an ex-streamer who stopped to focus on meeting new people and spending time with them as my #1 priority. I put together a huge lists of games i'm interested in playing, and even if your interests are specialized, i'll try and find some common ground. I'm not interested in people who just play once a week, and especially not anyone who says they use games as an "escape from reality". I really want to share these deep unique gaming experiences with others and connect my passions with them. I'm looking for others who feel the same. It's the spark of life, of the soul, and i really want to find people who feel this.
I live in north york, part of the grand toronto area. People close are ideal, but i'll accept anyone. Hit me up on discord! My discord: Dawnbomb

Hey there!
I'm a programmer / weeb and gaming is a very large part of my life, and i need friends who can vibe with that. I love making mods for japanese games. I'm extremely passionate about challenging or complex content.
Stuff like...
Action: Kingdom Hearts 3 Pro Codes, Xenoblade, Tales of series, (Vesperia, Xillia, Zestiria, Berseria, Arise, etc) Turn based: persona, dragon quest 11S Draconian, Chrono trigger lavos awakens, mario RPG armageddon, octopath. Souls: bloodborne, strangers of paradise, lies of P Grid Based: Fire Emblem Ironman, Super robot wars. Bullet hell: Touhou Rhythm: Hatsune miku MegaMix or DJ Max Roguelikes: the Binding of isaac, Shiren, Izuna Visual novels: Umineko, Stiens Gate, Zero Escape, Danganronpa, ace attorney, raging loop Open world: breath of the wild Puzzle: Catherine, La Mulana Hack and slash: devil may cry, Bayonetta, Nier automata, Dungeon Crawlers: etrian odyssey, labyrinth of touhou Unique: startropics, knights Fighting: guilty gear, DNF Duel MMO: FF14, Runescape Sidescroller: megaman, Gunvolt Metroidvanias: ...okay they mostly stopped making them >_>; (Rabi-Ribi?) ETC ETC.
I enjoy hanging out over discord & parsec a lot, and i'm free most of the time. I'm an ex-streamer who stopped to focus on meeting new people and spending time with them as my #1 priority. I put together a huge lists of games i'm interested in playing, and even if your interests are specialized, i'll try and find some common ground. I'm not interested in people who just play once a week, and especially not anyone who says they use games as an "escape from reality". I really want to share these deep unique gaming experiences with others and connect my passions with them. I'm looking for others who feel the same. It's the spark of life, of the soul, and i really want to find people who feel this.
I live in north york, part of the grand toronto area. People close are ideal, but i'll accept anyone. Hit me up on discord! My discord: Dawnbomb

Okay, I’m gonna level with you. Focusing on current events is just getting a little too fucking heavy. I’m no closer to answers than I was a month ago, none of us can sleep through a full night without waking up shaking and drenched in sweat, and there are some new downright bizarre phenomena cropping up that I just don’t have it in me to allot my energy to at the moment.
So, for today’s installment (and then also for the next one) I’m gonna tell you another good ol’ fun-for-the-whole-family pool story. Yep, you heard that right—welcome to our first bonafide two-parter.
This was quite a while ago. My measure of time is all off by a year now, but I feel fairly confident in chalking it up to post-first pool story, pre-ouija board fiasco—so however long ago that’s been now.
It was a weird, rare night, in that Matt was out. Not an unheard of occurrence, but it’s fairly anomalous, and it certainly puts the rest of us on slightly higher alert.
Obviously, he always tells us to call him at the first sign of some shit going down and to use our best judgment to determine whether it’s serious enough to lock up and head out. Better safe than sorry and all that. The night in question was no exception to the rule.
Overall, though, things were mostly quiet. Alice was in, as was I, as was Wiley. We do a lot of congregating, but we do a lot of work, too, and this night, we were all in our respective areas, doing our respective jobs.
I was in my not-office mending a finicky Shakespeare anthology, Alice was watching the desk while working on cataloging a truckload of new donations, and Wiley was replacing several lightbulbs that had all decided to call it quits after our most recent power outage (this one due to a flash-flood).
It was calm to an almost uncharacteristic degree. There was a relatively steady flow of patrons in and out of the building—I could hear Alice greeting them and wishing them a good evening—but as far as anomalous activity, there was none.
It does happen, on rare occasion, that we make it through a full night without any goings on, but there’s almost always at least the odd disembodied voice or two.
We should’ve known better than to trust a meteor shower.
See, there’s just something about natural anomalies. Not just the ones that knock our power out, either, although those are clearly included. Blizzards, thunderstorms, hail and tornados and earthquakes and all your run-of-the-mill destructive shit, sure. But the things of beauty, too. Rainbows. Eclipses, lunar or solar. And you think full moons hit emergency rooms hard? Try this fucking place.
It was just that a meteor shower wasn’t one we’d dealt with before. Does that mean we shouldn’t have known better? Fuck no. Obviously not. But perhaps our collective greatest fault is that we still have some semblance of hope.
Wiley wanted to look at it from the roof. Kid never fucking wants to do anything, and they were set to climb up and camp out alone. I couldn’t not entertain such an innocent, youthful whim.
Our roof access doesn’t have stairs—just a ladder—so Alice couldn’t accompany us, which I felt shitty about, but she assured me it was perfectly fine with her.
“The world decided I didn’t need functional legs so I could never be peer pressured into leaving the ground,” she quipped. “I’m not into heights. But y’all have fun up there. Somebody needs to be here for the patrons anyway.”
Fair and fair. So Wiley and I gathered up an armful of blankets and one of Matt’s trusty camping lanterns and headed out to scale the building.
Wiley went up ahead of me. That was my first mistake.
Really, they aren’t that much younger than I am. Maybe four or five years, and I’m too close to thirty for comfort now. But there’s something about them, even as far as they’ve come, that makes it impossible for me not to do everything in my power to protect them. I think Matt feels the same way. Maybe most of us do.
Anyway, that’s why I immediately started cursing myself when they reached the top of the ladder, pulled their way up and over the ledge of the roof, and said, “...Whoa.”
My second mistake was not immediately telling them to turn around and start climbing right the fuck back down.
I knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. But something in me just kicked into hyperdrive and I…had to see it. Whatever it was, I had to see it for myself.
“Don’t move,” I said, and then, “What is it?”
But by that point, I was at the top, too. I hoisted myself over the ledge and was met with…
…Water.
It was everywhere. Extending in every direction. There was no edge in sight—not even a horizon line. Just vast, dark water as far as the eye could see.
“Okay. This is not—let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Wiley agreed, a little breathless.
I’m sure you’ll be downright shocked to learn that, when we turned around, the ladder was gone.
The edge of the rooftop was, too.
The thing that surprised me, really, was that it wasn’t as though we were standing on some sort of island. We were somehow in the water all of a sudden, up to our waists, neither of us having taken a single step.
“Fucking…shit. Jesus. Adam?”
“We’re fine,” was my default response, because my anxiety override kicks in like a motherfucker as soon as someone else is more openly afraid than I am. “It’s okay, let’s just—let’s think for a second. Maybe it’s just, like, an illusion or something.”
“Okay,” Wiley said. “Maybe we should…try moving?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll bump the ledge and then we can just feel for the ladder. Good idea.”
Wiley and I shared a look, wordlessly nodding to one another, and stepped forward in unison.
Maybe I misspoke before, when I said we weren’t on a platform. It was just that our platform wasn’t above the water. Now, though, there was nothing.
It felt, almost, like the stomach-turning sensation of missing a step walking up a staircase. The only difference was that there was no moment-too-late connection.
We plummeted.
There wasn’t any difference in temperature beneath the surface, which was, in a way, more disorienting than the water itself. The mental recalibration that typically comes with plunging into a cool lake or, adversely, a heated pool wasn’t allotted an opportunity to take place. It felt, for most intents and purposes, the same as being in the air, just that I couldn’t breathe.
It was heavy, too. The weightlessness water tends to embody was null; I immediately abandoned everything I’d been carrying, clawing my way upward frantically enough that it would’ve been mortifying, I’m sure, had anyone witnessed it.
Wiley resurfaced at the same moment I did—empty handed as well, I noted—coughing a little but not to the extent that I was worried they were choking. “Next idea?” they asked, pushing their wet hair back from their face, dark, damp lashes obscuring their eyes.
“Let’s get back on the…” I started, but trailed off when I raised my head.
A couple hundred yards out from us, there was a ship. It was a dark, hulking thing, with tattered sails and something indistinguishable affixed to the bow, glittering and glinting in the moonlight.
Wiley spun around to face it, drifting back slightly when their gaze landed parallel to mine. “What the fuck is that?” they demanded, legs kicking haphazardly beneath the water to keep them in place.
“Maybe it’s…good,” I said. I knew better than that and I knew Wiley did, too, but I said it anyway. “Maybe someone will help.”
They didn’t even humor me with a response to that bullshit.
Now, at this point in the story, maybe you’re thinking being suddenly surrounded by water and watching as an ominous ship approached us with absolutely nowhere to go and no way to escape doesn’t feel quite enough like imminent condemnation. To which I say to you: not to worry. Because the next realization we came to was that the platform we’d been standing on previously had suddenly ceased to exist.
“Shit,” Wiley said. “Shit, shit, shit. Adam.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We just—we’re gonna—follow me.”
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck possessed me to swim toward the Obvious Death Ship. I guess just that there wasn’t anything else save for open water anywhere so it essentially felt like our options were paddle around until we were exhausted and drown or face a quicker, simpler demise.
“You better have a fucking plan, bro,” Wiley intoned from behind me, which I chivalrously pretended not to hear, because I did not, in fact, have a fucking plan.
The closer we drew to the vessel, the more unbelievably monstrous it appeared to become. It loomed above us, casting a shadow over everything in its direct path, and the sinking in my stomach almost convinced me to turn around. Almost.
But then something curled around my ankle. It was slick and strong, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that whatever it was could’ve pulled me under and eaten me alive in a fraction of a second.
Luckily for me, it wasn’t interested. It let go as quickly as it had latched on, almost as though it was simply using me as a handrail to move itself along. Still, though, the knowledge that it was there was all the motivation I needed to push forward ever faster. I didn’t say anything—didn’t want to add more fuel to Wiley’s panicked fire—just picked up my pace and swam up to their side.
“There’s a ladder,” they informed me, raising a hand and pointing toward the back half of the ship.
Indeed, there was a ladder. It was a tattered, worn thing, comprised of old, fraying rope and rotting, untreated wooden boards, but it looked composed enough that I figured we could likely make it up if we were swift.
“Bet,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went.
Up close, the ladder appeared even shoddier than it had when we’d first seen it. I reached out of the water and wrapped my fingers around the rope at the bottom, giving it a hearty tug. To my slight surprise, it held fast.
“I think we’re good,” I told Wiley. “I’ll go up first and tell you what I see.”
“Be careful,” they said, but didn’t protest, just backed up enough for me to get the leverage I needed to hoist myself onto the bottom board.
I climbed warily, overly conscious of every creak of the wood bowing beneath my weight, every groan of the fibers of rope under my hands, but made it without incident to the top.
Once there, I grabbed onto the ship’s edge, lifting my gaze to take in whatever lie before me.
It was…nothing. I mean, it was a ship, obviously. But there wasn’t anything on board. No apparent crew nor cargo nor even a captain manning the helm. Granted, I couldn’t see perfectly, but the moon shone brightly enough that I was fairly confident in my observation that the deck was devoid of anything but its own shiplap floor.
“Hello?” I called, because I wasn’t about to beckon Wiley up if some fucked shit was going to pop out of nowhere the second we made a sound.
Nothing responded. Nothing moved. The ship rocked gently on the impossible water, as silent and vacant as it had been a moment before.
“Good?” Wiley questioned nervously from below me.
“Yeah,” I told them, easing myself off the ladder and down into the confines of the vessel. “Come on.”
They did so tenuously but still more swiftly than I had, climbing aboard and landing next to me with a dampened thunk.
We allowed ourselves the briefest of moments to catch our breath, silently rejoicing in the small win that was having found solace from the pool itself. Not that we had any idea what to do or where to go from here, but at the very least, we weren’t drowning.
“Okay,” I said, clearing the unease from my throat. “I don’t know what good trying to steer this thing would do us—there’s nothing but water no matter where we go. But maybe there’s something here somewhere that’ll help us figure out how to get back. So I think we just…start looking around?”
Wiley nodded. “Cool. Split halves, front and back?”
Nooo, Adam, don’t split up! Never split up! I know. I can literally hear you screaming it at me. And actually, for once in my life, I considered that something might be a horrible fucking idea before acting on it.
But then I saw something.
As I turned back to respond, Wiley’s eyes shimmered, dancing in the moonlight.
They were silver and mercurial, with no pupils or whites in sight.
Whatever had come back up from underwater, it was not my coworker.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to remain as neutral as I was able and praying whatever was standing in front of me didn’t notice I’d caught on. My entire body was instantaneously covered in chills, in a way that I understood to have the same purpose as a dog’s hackles rising. “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take the front.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the thing wearing Wiley’s face (at a pace that I hoped didn’t appear hurried but one that would remove me in a timely manner from the vicinity) and didn’t stop until I’d reached the front of the ship, breathing heavily and attempting to slow my reeling mind.
I didn’t know what to tackle first. I didn’t know where Wiley was, or if they were anywhere—if they were even still alive. I didn’t know what my next move should be. I didn’t know what I was looking for or where I might find it.
It’s rare that I feel utterly hopeless, to the degree that I genuinely contemplate just sitting down and giving up, but in this instance, I thought long and hard about how easy it would be to succumb. I’d let the unthinkable happen. Wiley was gone. No one else had been here with them—there was no one else to blame. Just me. Only me.
…You’ll be glad to know that the self-pity didn’t last long. Embarrassing, honestly.
If I was the only one here, it meant I was the only shot they had at making it out alive. Our version of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ had always been ‘alive until proven dead’ and I wasn’t about to turn my back on the insane streak of luck we’d had up until this point. Not a single one of our lives had been lost, and we’d been in the midst of some absolute shitstorms. There was no reason to believe that right now, tonight, was an outlier. I couldn’t lie down like a sick dog and wonder if Wiley was still out there somewhere, suffering until the bitter, bloody end. I had to find them. By whatever means necessary, as long as it took, I had to find them.
I pushed off the railing before me and spun on my heel, eyes flitting back and forth to assess my options as efficiently as possible, and after a moment, I registered that fitted flush against the large front mast, there was a door.
It was only a sliver, thin and not particularly extraordinary in height, but there was a handle carved roughly into its right side and a set of rust-riddled hinges on its left.
I took about half a second to weigh my options and then reached for it, curling my fingers around the handle and giving it a generous tug.
The hinges, unsurprisingly, complained, but not loudly and not for long. The door gave way with little resistance, and opened up to my worst fucking nightmare.
A set of stairs, descending into blackness.
I mean, I guess if I’m being fair, my first pool encounter had featured a staircase leading to the pool rather than away from it, but I didn’t feel like there could possibly be good news awaiting me below deck of a ship where I’d just encountered a fucking mimic.
Still, though, there was a niggling insistence in my brain (not that kind, come on) that it was my only lead on finding Wiley if they were, in fact, somewhere on board. So I cast one last glance over my shoulder and stepped into the dark, letting the door fall closed behind me.
It smelled different, instantly, from the open air above. Mustier, which was to be expected, but also almost sweet somehow. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shove my true-crime-podcast-addled brain’s helpful reminder that the scent of human death is said to be sweet into a mental lockbox and put my hand to the wall, easing tentatively down to the second step.
The visibility wasn’t just low—it was practically zero. If you’ve ever been on a cave tour and had a guide cut the lights and instruct you to lift your hand to your face to demonstrate the complete absence of light, it was nearly that intense. The placing of both feet on each concurrent stair was an arduous, calculated process, but finally, after approximately one (1) century, I reached flat ground. I still couldn’t see, and there was no definitive way to tell whether I was standing on the floor or just a landing without thoroughly feeling out the space around me, so I reluctantly departed from the wall, scooting my feet in small, tentative motions and keeping both arms partially outstretched before me.
After a (l o n g) moment, I determined that either this was the world’s largest landing or I’d made it all the way down. I had no idea whether I was in a singular, enormous room, or if there were individual cabins, or if I was about to run face-first into the grim fucking reaper.
And then I turned to my left.
There was a light.
It was so, so faint. Flickering. Barely discernible, its warm, gentle glow ever so shyly illuminating the cracks around what appeared to be another closed door.
Being the only visible thing in my line of sight, in any direction, it emitted the aura of both a beacon and an omen.
I headed towards it.
I was about half afraid I was stuck in a horror movie situation where no matter how long I walked it would never grow any closer, but fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. I actually gained on it more quickly than I felt I should have for the speed I was moving, but I wasn’t going to complain about reaching the end of the nothingness in commendable time.
I ran my fingertips along the edge of the door and, sure enough, there was a carved-in handle, just like the last.
It opened just as effortlessly, and yellow candlelight rolled dimly out to greet me, lapping at my waterlogged clothes.
“Please,” came a quiet, terrified voice from inside the room. “Please don’t. I don’t know what you want, or–or what you are, but please don’t—”
“...Wiley?”
Rather than calming, the voice’s state of alarm rose to a level bordering on full-blown panic as I took a step into the space. “Please,” the voice begged. There wasn’t anyone visible from my current vantage point, but I could hear it clearly enough to feel fairly confident that the person attached to it—the person who either had to be Wiley or yet another duplicate of them—was close. “Why are you doing this?”
This was a cabin, I thought, or perhaps a study of some sort, with a rotting wooden desk and a decaying leather chair both covered in a flurry of loose, browned book pages and a thick layer of dust. There were candles littering several surfaces, placed in what appeared not to be any intentional manner. Directly to my right, there was a shelf; its back faced me and the odd placement led me to imagine that it may have been employed to block the door at some time.
It was also, I would have just about bet, the source of the voice.
I nudged a couple of planks and a broken amber bottle out of the way with the toe of my shoe, rounding the shelf to find a crumpled, bloodied Wiley, restrained to the floor by a thick, coarse rope fixed expertly to a bolted tie and holding their bound hands up to shield their face.
“Jesus fuck,” I said. “What happened to you?”
Slowly, they lifted their head. “...Adam?”
Realization dawned on me, and I felt my stomach sink. “Look at me,” I told them. “Look at my eyes.”
They did, their own bloodshot and watery and inherently human, and I watched their shoulders deflate, the defense and terror draining from their form. “There’s someone…something…down here. Or, I guess it still is, anyway. I don’t know where it went, but I don’t wanna be here when it comes back.”
I nodded. “It look like me?”
Wiley nodded back.
“Yeah, there’s one of you upstairs. Not real sure what we’re supposed to do about them, but one thing at a time. Let’s get you up from there.”
It was a struggle, disentangling Wiley from the heavy, abrasive leads coccooning their body, but we got there eventually, and throughout the entirety of the arduous process they gave me the rundown on how, when we’d parted from the solace of the platform, something had instantaneously latched onto them, dragging them down deeper and deeper until their ears popped and their head felt like it was going to explode. They said they’d been knocked out by the pressure, and that when they’d come to, already tied in place and coughing up lungfuls of water, “I” had been standing over them, wielding a large net hook and no mercy.
“I knew it wasn’t you, obviously,” they said, “but I didn’t know where you actually were or if something had, like. Hijacked your body? I don’t know. Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We grabbed a couple of candles (the majority had simply been melted into place atop whatever surface they’d adorned, but there was a small collection fitted into slightly-too-small brass holders) and got the fuck out.
Being able to see so little in the space around us was almost more disorienting than the pitch darkness I’d been feeling my way through before. It felt as though we were in a fragile, wavering bubble of reality and nothing existed outside of it.
“Wish I’d been awake coming down here,” Wiley remarked. “Guess I still wouldn’t have seen shit, though.”
“I could…maybe get us back upstairs?” I considered, with little to no confidence. “But I don’t really know what good it would do us. Nowhere to go. Maybe we just…look around down here for a bit? See if we can find anything useful?”
“Yeah, okay,” Wiley assented. “But we’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want that thing to hear us.”
I certainly couldn’t argue with that.
We wandered hesitantly through the dark, shielding the flames of our candles with cupped palms and praying we wouldn’t misstep. We made it some unsubstantiated quantity of time without incident, but softly, after seconds or minutes or hours, we heard a light rustling from the shadow veiled corridor to our right, and Wiley pulled me into the nearest open room in the opposite direction.
Flattening our backs to the wall, we listened intently as footsteps echoed faintly behind us, cyclically growing closer and then further away again for several moments before disappearing altogether.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and uncovered my candle, easing the door of the room to a gentle, silent close. The contents of this one were different from that of the last in that there practically weren’t any. It wasn’t just that it was tidier; there was a chest shoved against the wall nearest us and a leatherbound book of some sort lying in the center of the floor, but otherwise the space was vacant.
Wiley moved first, crouching next to the journal and lifting it from the ground, a cloud of dust rising in the wake of their breath. I knelt down beside them, offering my candlelight so they could discard theirs and open the cover.
Beneath which there was a box.
It was a plain, unadorned wooden rectangle, nestled into the carved-out central pages of the book, and we learned upon extracting it that there was no lock or latch, just a seam indicating the lid’s separation from the body.
I don’t need to spell the whole situation out for you. There was a key in the box. The key opened, you guessed it: the chest. Inside the chest, there were piles of gold and jewels beyond your wildest imagination. We’re rich now. The end.
Nah, JK. But the key in the box did open the chest, in which there was, A) a pair of peeling, pleather driving gloves, and B)...
I felt my heart skip.
A bicycle chain.
I’m not going to get into the nuances of that right now, or maybe ever. But for the purposes of dramatic flair, just know that it was incredibly, pointedly relevant to me, on a level so personal it sucker punched the air straight out of my lungs.
“No,” Wiley said, staggering back a step. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I put together, then, that the gloves must have been their ticket item. “It’s okay,” I said, on autopilot, because it was not. “There’s something—something’s carved into the bottom of this thing.” Pushing past the reaction every fiber of my being had to the sensation of the frigid metal against my skin, I shoved both the chain and the gloves to the side and could scarcely make out a host of crudely scrawled letters in the wavering light of my half-gone candle.
“What is it?” Wiley asked, making no move to come nearer again.
“Though your…hand…? Heart. Though your heart does pound and knees grow…weak,” I deciphered slowly, “Rid yourself by your… That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be of? It says ‘rid yourself by *your fear’ and…*something. Drain the…clin… No. Drink. Drain the drink.”
“Rid yourself by your fear and drain the drink,” Wiley repeated analytically. “The hell does that mean? Is this shit telling us to kill ourselves with the—oh. Oh. Fuck.”
I was not following. “...I’m not following,” I said.
“It is.” Wiley returned to my side, squatting down and nudging me out of the way with their shoulder to peer warily into the trunk. “It’s telling us to kill ourselves, but not these selves. We’re supposed to use…*those…*to kill our fuckin’ doppelgangers, or whatever they are. That’s how we get rid of the water.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “Fuck.”
We marinated for a moment in silence before Wiley sighed, resigned, and lifted the gloves from the chest, closing their eyes and pulling the fabric snugly over their hands. “Let’s get to work.”

For context, I started watching charmed when it was airing at the beginning of season 4. While this was airing I then went back and started from the beginning. This quickly became, nd still is my favorite show almost 20 years later. So much so that I rewatch from start to finish about once every 2-3 years. It’s my comfort show as well as good background noise and I loved the sisterly bond just as much as the fantasy. They absolutely sold the sister role. (Which makes the fact that they hated each other all the more impressive. But thats not what this is about).
With that being said, upon my most recent rewatch I realize…. That season 8 is one of the most hot garbage pieces of tv i have ever watched. So much so that it almost ruins the legacy of a great show (even though the actress’ are doing that themselves)
Im up there in age so Charmed was always one of the lighter pieces of tv for me so i never had a huge critical eye for it although i was, nd still am a huge fan. For starters, 3-5 have always been my favorite and season 8 has always been my least favorite season followed by 7. As i continue to get older and look at things a little more critically (esp shows I may have watched when i was younger or its been a few years) i pick up on extra things.
Season 8 feels like the writers were literally working remotely, phoning it in. It feels disjointed as fuck almost as if they each picked a plot point and then put it all together. One of my biggest things with this season is how quick everything is glossed over. Now with this show being about magic and demons im able to suspend disbelief, but there were small things that were just the product of lazy writing. One that sticks with me is the episode Paige became cop. She was in training the same day she applied. This season has many examples of that, from Billie seemingly being over her parents death the next episode to Phoebe admitting to being in love with coup even though there was zero inclination on Phoebe’s part that she was into him, with her even saying at one point “it must suck to be a Cupid”. Everything was rushed and poor explanations were given that contradicted earlier season. Even the triad still being around with no mention in a span of 4 season felt lazy. Watching it back it also felt like none of the actors wanted to be there and knowing what I know now if feels like they were dividing screentime to keep them apart because of their personal feeling. You can tell because Paige and Phoebe had very few scenes together.
Now on to Billie. This could have been such a great character had they not turned her into such a naïve person in the end who was so easily manipulated. We’re were first introduced to this careless, but also smart and clever character, only for her to be used a plot device. She allowed Christy and even Dumain to brainwash and manipulate her. The former can almost be forgiven as it was her sister, but Dumain…😤. She didn’t seem to notice how increasingly unhinge Christy was becoming.
Christy on the other hand, aside from delivering some of the worst lines ive seen in a while, was another case of things progressing too fast. Understanding she was brainwashed, there was never any mention of what they told her to have these views so there was no real motivation. She went from being feral to hating the sisters over the course of a few episode, believing they were selfsih even though their actions twd her were anything but selfish. By the end she was giving full blown demon energy but there was never an explained end game for her which makes it worse cause aside from wanting the sisters gone, why are you doing this and what happens after if you succeed. This all came to head with her trying to kill her own sister. They did the best they could with the series final choosing to focus on family.
Going forward i’ll def be omitting 8 from my rewatch. A good piece of the season was watching Paige and Henry get to know each other, even though that was rushed as well.

My 15 yo L John Deere mower smokes every 10 minutes because of leaky oil, thinking about new zero turn, electric, or auto robot mower and wondered if there was a sub for it.

Btw it’s the song to atom bomb baby pls I beg someone sings this and sends me it.
Rocket Ship Sweetie
(Verse 1) Well, I got a little gal, she's a rocket ship sweetie, Fast as a comet and twice as pretty. With a smile that lights up the midnight sky, She’s my little star and I’m her lucky guy.
(Chorus) Rocket ship sweetie, zoomin’ through the night, Dancin’ in the cosmos, oh what a sight. With her by my side, we’re a cosmic delight, Rocket ship sweetie, gonna hold you tight.
(Verse 2) She’s got the energy of a supernova blast, When she walks into a room, heads turn fast. Her love is a force, can’t be denied, Like a meteor shower, it’s a wild ride.
(Chorus) Rocket ship sweetie, zoomin’ through the night, Dancin’ in the cosmos, oh what a sight. With her by my side, we’re a cosmic delight, Rocket ship sweetie, gonna hold you tight.
(Bridge) In the galaxy of love, she’s my guiding star, From the Milky Way to Jupiter, no place is too far. We’ll soar through the heavens, just her and me, My rocket ship sweetie, in zero gravity.
(Verse 3) Her kiss is like a solar flare, hot and bright, Keeps me warm through the coldest night. With her love, I’m on a celestial high, Rocket ship sweetie, we’re gonna fly.
(Chorus) Rocket ship sweetie, zoomin’ through the night, Dancin’ in the cosmos, oh what a sight. With her by my side, we’re a cosmic delight, Rocket ship sweetie, gonna hold you tight.
(Outro) Rocket ship sweetie, our love will never die, Shooting through the universe, just you and I. From here to the stars, it’s a wild flight, Rocket ship sweetie, love burns bright.

Please note this is the original submission I sent Refinery29. In the current post,they have given me a second credit card with a 100$ balance, as well as generational trauma from World War II and cut context for other things. I am trying to get that fixed.
Per previous discussion in comments here: The espresso machine is a Bezzera, which ranges from 2-5K. We got ours on sale for 1.7K, it’s a work house and we use it everyday, still hurts that we spent that money on a coffee maker.
I do understand mortgage is debt but when you compare it to rent to a lesser value condo in Vancouver it feels like not debt at all, which is how I tend to think of it. Yes I owe my mortgage but also I get my house instead of renting-which may not have become clear.
Please see in full the diary, below (edit for formatting via mobile)
Occupation: Sr Business Analyst
Industry: Tech
Age: 30
Location: Vancouver Island, BC
Salary: 92,000$ (Spouse makes 60,000$ for a combined income of 152,000$ before tax)
Net Worth: ~ 1.2 Million ( house is valued at 989,000$ currently, we have a combined 150,000 in pension, and ~60,000 in various company stocks, and GICs)
Debt: 3,000$ in a zero interest credit card for a 10 month period. We balanced transferred and pay 400$/month. Debt was acquired in Q4 2023 when we had to buy Snow Tires, and do a full break replacement as well as Christmas. 480,000$ in a mortgage, we refinanced in September 2023 for five years fixed rate at accelerated biweekly, however I don’t consider our mortgage debt due to the equity we are gaining, and that our mortgage for a five bedroom, 3 bath single family home is less than rent for a two bedroom condo in Vancouver
Paycheck Amount (Every 2 Weeks): 2,555$ after taxes. (Just mine). Spouse makes 2,308$ after taxes. Our pay periods are alternating.
Pronouns: She/her
Monthly Expenses Mortgage: 1450$ biweekly (100$ extra to the principal).
Utilities: ~200$ (includes water [paid quarterly], hydro [paid bimonthly], gas, sewetrash [paid quarterly] phone [highly discounted due to work plans for spouse and myself] and car gas) Loan Payments: 400$/Credit Card
Car Insurance: 84$
Life Insurance: 167$ combined (67$ me, 100$ spouse)
Health & Dental Insurance: 60$ deducted from pay (coverage for myself and spouse from my employer. Spouse also has coverage for both of us deducted from pay)
Retirement Contribution: 400$ (Employee matches me), (Spouse has a defined pension through work and contributes ~200$ month)
Union fees: 70$ Spouse
Subscriptions: Crave 22$/month (Recent splurge for Binge watching the Rookie), Playstation Plus 100$ (annual bought on Black Friday Deal), Amazon Prime 80$ (Annual), BCAA 120$ (annual) Gym 30$/month (we both have one so 15$/pp)
Note: My spouse and I have completely commingled finances. I will be tracking both as it’s essentially I spent whatever they spent
Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it?
There was always the expectation. My father was very clear, we were very smart. There was no way we’d be wasting our potential. He wanted me to be a lawyer, but unlike other immigrant parents, I got to choose my major and went into social sciences and got my masters in history. I deferred my PhD too much so I got dropped by the program.
I chose my university by where I got a full first year scholarship and then after that took about 15k in student loans for my undergraduate. My parents paid my rent and I got a part time job for food.
For my masters, I had a student line of credit and 5 k student loans otherwise it was all my savings and scholarships. With the line of credit, I had a total of 30K in student loans and paid it off in about four years.
Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances?
Save. We talked about how you get a dollar allowance and half of it goes into long term saving with 25% in short term and 25% in spend.
Investing came after I was eighteen. Family would like us to invest in property, however I don’t really want to be a landlord, but also we wouldn’t get to really enjoy profit of owning a rental property due to other family circumstances.
What was your first job and why did you get it?
Ice cream parlour I was twelve and my parents made me get it for responsibility. I lasted three weeks because I hated it.
Did you worry about money growing up?
I grew up thinking we were not rich, because we didn’t get big plane vacations (I didn’t count flying from Toronto to Vancouver every summer as a vacation since we were just seeing family but staying in a house my parents owned) and I had only been to Disney twice.
But we had a big new build house in the rich end of town, my mom stayed home to raise all of us. We had to work for things (like going to see a movie opening night or a new CD) but we always had money and got what we wanted. In retrospect, my family was/is fairly well off.
Both my parents grew up poor, with parents working multiple jobs and different shifts to make ends meet, the strive/drive to not have that childhood, and for my father to be able to retire his parents really impacted mine and my siblings and cousins lives. My father showed me the apartment he grew up in Chinatown a few years back. It’s light years away from the house my grandparents owned when I was a kid and how I grew up.
Do you worry about money now?
Of course. Inflation is real and we are actively planning a wedding for the next year, as well as a baby in the next few years. We also need to buy a second car, so we’re saving for that.
At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net?
Fully financially responsible? Twenty five. I lived in a family property where I didn’t pay rent in one of the most expensive cities in Canada, so even though I paid all my bills (food and phone), I didn’t have to pay rent. I in fact made money, as I rented rooms out and used the income for house utilities, and paying my student loans down faster. When I moved in with my spouse, I just paid condo fees until we bought our house two years ago which gave me plenty of time to save.
Our financial safety net is family, and our savings. I know my family would bail us out. My spouse’s father would as well. Conversely, we are my spouse’s mother's safety net and we have to keep all our plans in mind that we will be subsidising her.
Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain. Yes, I received 50K from my parents once they sold my childhood home, as did both of my siblings. I have also received 10K from one set of grandparents which paid off my car and part of my student loans when I was 21. I will be receiving another inheritance when probate is done for around ~100K. My spouse also has received inheritance which allowed them to buy their first condo in their early twenties when the market was much better. That condo, 50k, and the subsequent upgrading helped us afford our house.
Day 1
10 AM: I drive to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. Not how I want to start my Sunday morning but y’know. Normally I’d walk since it’s about 20 minutes but I have a UTI. I’m “lucky” that despite not having a dr because of the health care shortage, my work pays for the Maple app so I could get a dr to write the prescription and order the lab work at 1 am. I’ll do the lab work later this week when I can get an appointment but will take the relief now. Insurance makes the antibiotics free, but I also buy hydrogen peroxide because we’re out and we have a dog that thinks everything is meant to be in her mouth. We’ll buy a bigger one at Costco later. I also bought some oral wound mouthwash because we were out. I come home and my spouse made us breakfast.
Total: 15.90$ paid with debit.
1-2:30 PM: We do our taxes. I have a mini meltdown when I realize the part time bakery job I had for a few months didn’t take off income tax last year, so I owe 800$. Luckily, my partner is getting a refund so we net out positive 400$. The bakery took off income tax in 2022, so unsure why they didn’t in 2023. I made us lunch.
3-6:30 PM: We walk the dog, and watch the Rookie. Some time during that time period, a venue emails us back and is surprisingly affordable at 3k. I also get told that the tattoo artist I want to book with, has not chosen me.
6:30-7:30 PM: I explain what lazy girl dinner is to my spouse and make a lazy girl dinner. After not really grocery shopping since Feb for things besides fresh veg, we need to do a big pantry shop and neither of us want that. We debate about buying a food saver and if we should wait for a sale. My spouse is more frugal than me and has determined we should.
8-9:30 PM: We start season 3 of The Rookie, and then after two episodes we go to bed
Day One Total: 15.90$
Day Two
5:45-8 AM: Wake up and start work. I get up to date with what’s happened on the weekend and check that my automated reports. Sometime before 6:30, I get the kettle on for my spouse’s pour over before I go back to my meetings. There’s a twenty minute gap where I get changed and do my skin care and brush my teeth. I’d love to be a skin care person but honestly I’ve spent too much money on product that I don’t use and that just goes bad. Washing my face and using sun screen is a win.
I also make sure that Spouse’s lunch is in his bag and I get our travel mugs ready. Before, we used to go to Starbucks every day. Starbucks used to do free refills on coffee and tea if you were a rewards member if you bought a coffee or tea so it would cost us $5/day (2.5/pp), and we could get refills all day. While that’s 20$/week, 80$/a month and yes, we could have saved it but back then, that 80$ wasn’t turning the dial anywhere significantly for us—a privileged view.
But now, after COVID where I stopped drinking tea after one day working from home having like 10 cups and thinking I was dying, and Spouse has bought a good grinder and we recently splurged on a stupidly expensive espresso machine we call his Engagement Espresso since it costs the same price as my stupidly expensive ring, we bring our coffees.
8-8:30 AM: We drive to work. Prior to buying our house, we were both work from home and lived in a city with amazing transit. We only needed the one car. Since buying the house and moving to a city where public transit is a joke (the one bus goes past our house every 1.5h), Spouse changed jobs and is in office every day and I have to go in 3 days a week. We need a second car or the e-bike rebate to come through. We debate this in the car, since I’m done at 1 pm, and Spouse works normal hours, I either have to take the bus home, or go to the gym for three hours. Today though, I drop Spouse off. I will pick him up later as he has a half day because of the dentist
8:30-12:30 AM/PM: Work. I find a tech manager and ask them to get me more triple a batteries. Work won’t provide or let me expense batteries for my mouse, despite them replacing my usb mouse with a battery one. The poor admin had to tell me the decision is that we’ll all supply our own batteries. Luckily the tech managers have to have batteries on hand and give them out freely.
I ask my boss how the work from home tax forms work, and he is going to find out.
I run more meetings and work on a request for a dashboard and a business case for a new feature that I have to convince leadership to spend money on.
12:30-1 PM: I drive back to my Spouse because he has a dentist appointment.
While I wait for a spouse, I am incredibly hungry. I’m usually not hungry/don’t eat a proper meal until around 1 in the afternoon and my two granola bars I already ate at the office. I go to the bakery by Spouse’s work and buy a cheese bun for me (3.65$), and an apple pie scone (2.55$) for Spouse as a snack. Spouse points out he won’t be able to eat until after his appointment.
Total: 6.20$ debit
1-1:30 PM: I drop Spouse off, and the car stops working. The engine won’t catch. I try multiple times and then run into the dentist to dramatically announce to Spouse and the receptionists that the car won’t start. Spouse asks me what he wants me to do about this, since he’s about to go into an appointment. A very kind receptionist tells me it might be the alternator. I don’t know what that is.
I go back to the car to Facetime my father. He also asks what I think he can do to help since he lives 3000 km away. Weirdly, and sexistly, I thought a man who grew up at race tracks, in a racing family, or the man who has collected and worked on sports cars for forty years might be able to help.
Spouse texts me to remind me we have BCAA while my father also tells me that. I finally get the engine to catch and drive the very long way home, going the speed limit and getting stuck in traffic, construction and a bus. It takes me 20 minutes to get home instead of 10.
1:30-2:30 PM: I walk the dog, mail a (late) birthday card and then start researching what an alternator is. The car is over a decade old and until the house, the most expensive thing I ever bought at 12K back in 2015. We have the funds for the cost, but it’s my first car and the fact it might be the end of its life is scary.
Alternators can cost between 400-800$ repair with labour, so that’s fun.
My dad calls me back and apologises for asking me what he could do away. He advises me that there’s probably a bald spot on the alternator and advises me to go to the mechanic to check or replace it, if the car doesn’t start again.
I call the mechanic to book an appointment, and to also get the snow tires off and to buy new rims for the snow tires. The mechanic lets me know that the alternator part is 500$, and an hour of labour so with taxes we’re looking at around 700$
That future appointment next week (we’re going down a highway this weekend which requires snow tires) will cost ~1.5K, assuming we replace the alternator.
I make lunch and sigh.
2:30 PM: The car starts thankfully. I drive incredibly slow. I pick up Spouse by idling the car. We get an email back from a venue saying they cost 75,000$ minimum. The timing is hysterical.
Due to the nature of the dentist, Spouse owes 618$, as they haven’t flipped it under my insurance. They split it in half, as he has a follow up in two weeks. After the next appointment they will flip the whole amount under me and we’ll get reimbursed for the whole amount.
Total 309$/credit card.
3-10 PM: We walk the dog, make dinner (Spouse makes white sauce pasta, with chicken and peas) and watch The Rookie. There are thirteen episodes in season three, and we will be busy every night this week besides Friday and Sunday, and I would like to finish season three so we can start season 4 next Monday. I don’t want to pay for more than one month of Crave. We have five episodes left
Day Two Total: 315.2$
Day Three
1 AM: 100$ is automatically transferred from our account to the credit card debit. We have an auto transfer of 100$/every Tuesday to a Visa where we balance transferred both our cards. We have an offer for 0 interest for 10 months, so we did that for some of the bigger expenses (snow tires, break replacement and general Christmas) and are on track to pay it back within the next 6 months. That visa is our emergency card that we just have in the back end and utilise for promos like this. It allows us to keep our two cards balances manageable and lets us pay in an easier way than taking big chunks out of our various savings.
Total: 100$/direct deposit
5:45-9 AM: Work. Meetings, reports, trying to convince a colleague that the process does include them and refusal to follow it means that their requests won’t be done. Spouse has another half day so I can go into the office at my leisure—if the car starts
9-9:20 AM: The car starts, I get into the office and refresh a data flow before a meeting with a new stake holder. It takes longer to drive into work today because the tourists are starting to come and their van builds or campers are not exactly highway speed and with a two lane highway, if you don’t merge over fast enough you’re stuck.
10:05-10:20 AM: Meeting done, car starts again and I drive home for more meetings. The least amount of time in the office is preferable for me.
10:30-11AM : Meeting with my manager where we discuss future salary and promotion. I am due for a promotion in the start of Q2, which would push me to six figures. I’ll believe it when I see it but, I’m really excited at that possibility for my family.
11:15 AM: Spouse leaves for work, we discuss what groceries are needed, as well if he’ll go to Home Depot tonight to buy more clover seeds for the yard, as we need to reseed before it starts raining. I eat a muffin and my dog and cat decide to try and eat each other.
11:15-1:30 PM: Work runs late. There’s some issues with the data and we can’t figure it out. We call it a night, and I’ll record the video presentations tomorrow, once we fix the data.
1:30-4 PM: Nap time! It’s bad for me, but honestly I don’t sleep well during the night so naps are what keep me alive.
4-6 PM I prep dinner (smash burgers and fries), and get chores done and walk the dog.
6-7:30 PM: Spouse comes home, we eat dinner. Groceries come to 96.83 for two 7 pound pork loins, two packs of bacon, chicken nuggets, coffee, pop, 8 pack of peppers, milk, tomato, pickles, rice, avocado, mushrooms, sour cream and lettuce.
Not too bad, we average about 300$/month in groceries because we can buy bulk and have a second freezer.
For the month of March we are currently at 123.61$ for groceries and there is twelve days left. We went on a small weekend away, so we ate out a fair bit but even then our current food budget is 272.27$ today.
Total: 96.83/ debit
7:30-10 PM: Spouse makes a coffee and plays video games with his friends. They do it every week. I have a shower, fold and put away laundry and read in bed.
Day Three Total: 196.83
Day Four
1AM: Our biweekly accelerated mortgage payment comes out of 1450$. I’m tracking it here to be honest on our spending but I tend not to think of it as money spent because in my head it’s already money gone. To pay for a house equivalent in Vancouver, the mortgage would be over 6k. Renting a two bedroom condo would be 3K. It feels like the mortgage is just cheaper rent, even though each time I own more of my house.
5:45-9 AM: Work. I find out the limits of how many people I can invite to a Teams Meeting as well as that the Thursday before Good Friday is a catholic holiday when a few people ask me to reschedule a training forum for over a thousand people. Sometime in there I make us coffee, make sure Spouse has lunch packed (leftovers). Spouse has walked the dog and has the recycling and compost out for pick up. I drop Spouse off at work.
10-11:45 AM: I leave the office for home and more meetings. I walk the dog and go record training videos. I get an email that Amazon is doing their big spring sale. I send a link to a robot mop and vaccum that’s on a big discount to Spouse. We want one, but I’m not in charge of the research on it. I send links to play grounds to my friends with toddlers
11:45-12:30 PM : I shove lunch in my mouth, last night’s left overs. I’m running late, and decide to get myself later by collecting all the random dishes and mugs that just show up places and start the dishwasher. I get to the lab ten minutes early but need to buy gas on the way home.
I tell my team I’ll be MIA for a bit and leave the work phone in the car.
I buy 15.6L of gas for 30$ at 1.879/l it sucks. I don’t fill up because we’re going to my in laws this weekend and there’s a Costco Gas Bar there.
Total: 30$/credit card
12:30-1:30 PM: Work goes long again.
1:30-2:30 PM: Nap!
2:30-4:30 PM: Walk the dog and drive to the gym. I usually go three times a week but with last week’s weekend away and this week’s weird half days from Spouse, today’s the only day. I make it up by doing both upper and lower body and a 30 minute circuit.
4:30-7:30 PM: I pick up Spouse and we go to Costco. We pick up nachos, ham, cheese buns and some other items. We debate buying our friend’s kid a toddler set of clothes and decide no. We end up buying work pants for Spouse, and a garden hose. It comes out to 116.90
I order our Costco dinner of hot dogs and fries for a grand total date night of 6.41$
Total: 123.31/ credit card
8-9 PM: Dance class! We bought a series of six lessons of introduction to ballroom back in December for a new date night idea. We paid 60$/pp and this is the fifth lesson tonight.
9 pm: We’re home, we let the dog out. Spouse spends an undetermined amount of time watching ballroom videos while I sleep.
Day Four Total: 1603.31$ or 153.31 excluding the mortgage payment.
Day Five
5:45-9 AM: Work. All the meetings. Thursday is the meeting day. I debate with a friend what’s the earliest call we’ve had. 4:30 am still wins. I pack lunch for Spouse and his coffee and he leaves. I end up cleaning up cat puke as the cat decides to drink milk from Spouse’s cereal and vomit it up on camera in a meeting.
9-9:30 AM: I make myself a matcha and walk the dog.
9:30-1 PM: Work and I treat myself to a lunch of a cheese bun and ham sandwhich. We used to eat it every Sunday while growing up but the cost of ham has been outrageous. The deal at Costco yesterday was 1.5$/100 g which is really good.
1-1:30 PM: I seal the wooden deer Christmas decoration we bought last year. It sits outside our front door and needs to be weather proofed, and I’ve been putting it off for five months. But the weather is good and we have newspapers. We have left over wood sealer after the sign we bought a year ago so I use that. The dog and the cat both don’t like my wooden deer.
1:30-4 PM: Nap!
4-5 PM: I basically just watch youtube and drink a root beer. I have no energy.
5-6:30 PM: Spouse comes home, we walk the dog and I make dinner (Kraft Dinner and nuggets–I swear we eat veggies but today is not that day). We discuss the possibility of our dog at our wedding as a flower girl, and if she’ll be in a tutu or a cheongsam like me. I am now researching if they make dog cheongsams and if she can match us. The cat, despite all my heart wanting it, won’t physically be there because he will have an anxiety attack and probably die.
6:30-10:30 PM: Board game night! We go to a friend’s to repeat the same scenario we’ve lost two weeks in a row.
10:30-11 PM: I pack Spouse’s breakfast (oatmeal and frozen berries), lunch (spicy tuna and mayo) since he’s trying to go to the gym before work, and feed the animals before we go to bed.
Day Five Total: 0$
Day Six Friday
5:45-9 AM: Work. I have a deep focus block which means I can get the script for the training I have to run. Public speaking is not my strong suit and it’s a group of a thousand people so I’m not looking forward to it. Spouse almost makes it to the gym. I get an email that my new work phone has shipped. I’m surprised because they wouldn’t order us any for the past four years, but I guess my new iPhone will show up next week. I might give my old work phone to my mother in law, since she smashed the camera on the phone we bought her last year.
9-9:30 AM: I walk the dog, make a matcha and make a todo list for what we have to get done before we leave to my in laws tomorrow. I text my mother in law happy birthday, and hope that she got the card in time. She did.
9:30-11:30 AM: My last meeting for the week ends and I’m debating calling it a day so I can nap. Instead I make lunch (cheese bun and ham), text my other mother in law our plan for Saturday, and unload and reload the dishwasher and go back to work for at least another hour.
12:30-1 PM: I shower and do skin care
1-3 PM: Nap! Somewhere in this time FedEx comes and since I’m sleeping, we have to pick up on Monday. I’m not too sure what it is, I assume it’s our custom address stamp from Etsy because that’s the only thing I’ve bought recently but not too sure. I just realized in retrospect, this might be my new work phone.
3-5 PM: I prep dinner (nachos), unload the dishwasher, pack my overnight bag and confirm all our venue tours by email. I start a load of laundry and do a quick clean. I feel like this is not the best image of our diet. I swear we generally eat healthy but we both have been feeling really blah over the past two weeks so have been going for quick and easy over healthy and balanced. I do have three whole peppers and two whole avocados in the nachos though.
5-7 PM: Spouse comes home, we walk the dog, have dinner, and plan out next week. We have a big Wednesday next week (mechanic, I have a nails appointment, dance class), and we are having our friends over for Easter so we need to prep for that. We pack the car so tomorrow is a very easy start.
Spouse also gets paid today. We’re lucky that we’re on alternating pay periods, we used to be on the same and it always felt stressful. Spouse also lets me know his union has secured a 3% cost of living raise to start in Q3. I really like his union for negotiating a base 2% year of cost of living raise, with potential addition raises depending on inflation. It’s a bit away but that’s still good news.
7:30-10:30 PM: We finish The Rookie Season 3 and head to bed. Crave reminds me that I have 10 days until I’m charged again. Sadly, I think we’ll have to pay for 2 months.
Day Six Total: 0
Day Seven Saturday
8:30-9:30 AM: Wake up. No one (except the dog) slept well so we’re not in a morning mood. Spouse makes coffee and walks the dog, while I finish packing the car and give the cat a lot of attention. Our first venue tour is at 11 and the one that is the most expensive (8-10K), but also the one we probably want the most. We live about an hour away but the highway is two lanes and one accident can back everything up for hours.
10:40-1 PM: We visit our dream venue. We stay way longer than expected. Basically if the quote is under 10K, we’ll get it. Just waiting now.
1-2 PM: We get to our in-laws and have a lunch of egg salad sandwhichs. We need to buy gas. My in laws drive us to a pottery painting store.
2-4 PM: We paint pottery. My mother in law only wanted to do this for her birthday. They’ll pick it up in a week after it’s been thrown. I paint a vase (28$), Spouse paints an Easter egg (18$), father in law paints a mug (30$), and mother in law paints a plate (50$)
Total:143.36/credit card
4-5 Pm: We see another venue. It’s an instant no. My in laws decide they want to try Korean fried chicken. We call ahead for take out to get two fries and 16 pieces of half and half. It comes to 50.83$ that my in laws pay for.
5-10 PM: We come back and see that our dog has pooped in their house and also has gotten into their pantry and eaten an entire bag of dog food. It is not a fun night.
We spend the night drinking wine and discussing the wedding and watching TV.
10PM: We go to bed. That’s the end of this week, but tomorrow we will be buying gas and probably lunch for my other mother in law as we will be touring another venue.
Day Seven Total: 143.36$

Thanks everyone for your help. I think I got this for a pretty good deal. I paid $2500 total and it was brand new, unopened, zero hours. I've got it set up and read a ton of tips and tricks. I have updated the software, turned off all of the energy saving options, ensured that the deep color setting on the HDMI input is set to 4K, set SDR, HDR and DV to cinema home, and turned off all of the noise reductions and AI options.
That covers the bases, but there are a couple things I'm still having issues with:

1. Should I have 4:4:4 passthrough turned on? I'm not sure if I should have the aTV set to 4:4:4 or 4:4:0. I've tried both and both work. Should I have the aTV set to YCbCr or RGB High or RGB Low? Again, all work.
   
2. What about dynamic contrast? I've seen mixed responses on it.
   
3. I have not found any definitive information on what "Precision Detail" does in the picture settings. Does anyone know?
   
4. I have the aTV and PS5 plugged into the Onkyo receiver and then the Onkyo to the LG set into HDMI 2 (eARC/ARC). I can control the aTV with the LG remote but not the Onkyo, it doesn't seem. I'm curious if there are any known issues between these two brands perhaps.
   

While I think the image is so much punchier and blacks are really black compared to my old Sony LED (85X900F) there are a couple things we (wife and I) are trying to sort-

1. Sometimes the blacks are just too black. I think it is "black crush" in that too much of the image is displaying at zero luminance (not sure if these are the correct terms). Rather than there being "shadows" its all just fully "black".
   
2. Some of the colors appear oversaturated. Watching baseball was one example-red on the jerseys glowed almost neon. Even watching Dark Matter last night in DV on aTV some of the skin tones appeared overly saturated/red/warm despite using the cinema settings.
   

The combination of these two issues makes me think that something in my chain isn't set up correctly.

Thanks everyone for your help. I think I got this for a pretty good deal. I paid $2500 total and it was brand new, unopened, zero hours. I've got it set up and read a ton of tips and tricks. I have updated the software, turned off all of the energy saving options, ensured that the deep color setting on the HDMI input is set to 4K, set SDR, HDR and DV to cinema home, and turned off all of the noise reductions and AI options.
That covers the bases, but there are a couple things I'm still having issues with:

1. Should I have 4:4:4 passthrough turned on? I'm not sure if I should have the aTV set to 4:4:4 or 4:4:0. I've tried both and both work. Should I have the aTV set to YCbCr or RGB High or RGB Low? Again, all work.
   
2. What about dynamic contrast? I've seen mixed responses on it.
   
3. I have not found any definitive information on what "Precision Detail" does in the picture settings. Does anyone know?
   
4. I have the aTV and PS5 plugged into the Onkyo receiver and then the Onkyo to the LG set into HDMI 2 (eARC/ARC). I can control the aTV with the LG remote but not the Onkyo, it doesn't seem. I'm curious if there are any known issues between these two brands perhaps.
   

While I think the image is so much punchier and blacks are really black compared to my old Sony LED (85X900F) there are a couple things we (wife and I) are trying to sort-

1. Sometimes the blacks are just too black. I think it is "black crush" in that too much of the image is displaying at zero luminance (not sure if these are the correct terms). Rather than there being "shadows" its all just fully "black".
   
2. Some of the colors appear oversaturated. Watching baseball was one example-red on the jerseys glowed almost neon. Even watching Dark Matter last night in DV on aTV some of the skin tones appeared overly saturated/red/warm despite using the cinema settings.
   

The combination of these two issues makes me think that something in my chain isn't set up correctly.