First Previous
Peering down into the now exposed cavern, I wondered what was in there and consequently how I would even get down there. Ordering my marauder to back up a bit so that they would not fall though or anything of the sort, I began floating back up to the surface before blipping over to the factory and more specifically the modification station. Flipping through the menu screen, I quickly whipped up a modification to my crabs so that they would have a searchlight sitting on their claw arm so that they would not have such a hard time seeing the mines. Drifting back over to the mining outpost, I began ordering for the on site construction crew to begin constructing the new lights onto a few volunteers. As they began the process of constructing the modifications for my crabs, I began gathering up a few flight capable drones from the factory since I doubt that my hounds and ants would have a very good time climbing down a eighty plus degree slope down to the bottom.
Perhaps I should have a few of the hornets have some of the searchlights as well. Certainly couldn’t hurt to have some extra lights. Thankfully at the factory there was a much more sizable spider drone presence so my hornets were equipped with the searchlights quickly enough and were able to reach the mining outpost just about when my crabs got theirs as well. Ordering my drones to begin venturing down into the mineshaft, I was finally able to properly see down in the mines although I suppose I had not turelly needed to. I wonder if this would help the rest of my drones ability to mine out ores. The lack of light surely hasn’t stopped them so I guess they probably can see better down here that I could. As we ventured through the mineshaft, I took the time to look around and found that the tunnels which had been carved out looked to have many small patches missing, presumably where they had found valuable ores and the like. Before long we reached the opening to the cavern which looked to be somewhat expanded by the marauders sub drone harvesters.
Ordering my newly equipped crabs to use their search lights in order to light up the cavern a little bit, I was able to quickly enough make out the forms of what had to be organic life which was rather surprising. Squinting my eyes, I was able to see the vague forms of large fungus-like shapes covering the entirety of the rather large cavern like a warping forest which seemed to be perfectly fine with growing on every available surface. Looking over to my hornets and vultures who had volunteered to take a look, I ordered them, along with the harvesters from the marauder, to begin flying down and begin looking around the area. Switching my perspective over to one of my hornets equipped with the searchlights, I watched as they began to descend down to the bottom of the cavern and where the dozens and dozens of tree sized mushrooms and fungus sprouted out from the ground and created a canopy of sorts.
As we descended, I was able to see that every available spot on the surface of the floor was absolutely covered in moss and fungus which had taken root in whatever rocky soil which they could find. As we continued to look around the cavern, one of my hornets seemed to have managed to spot some sort of constructs near the far end of the cavern and soon enough the hornet which I was watching through linked up with the rest of my force as they moved towards the buildings. As they approached the structures, I was able to make out the general shape of the buildings which looked to be rather squat with the occasional second floor which I took as a sign that they were either rather small or there was more underground. With the help of the searchlights, I was also able to see that the constructs seemed to be absolutely infested with the fungus and moss along with a large amount of other dark growths which stretched out from the insides of the building.
Huh, maybe this is where all the fungus had come from. Perhaps it’s a research building that’s focused on botany or something. Floating down to ground level with the rest of my drones, I ordered one of my hornets to open the doors leading into the building proper which they promptly did so by firing their spike launcher into the joints of the door which caused it to be blown off its hinges. A bit overkill but hey, I’m not complaining. Sending a couple drones into the breach to make sure that there were not any hostile contacts in the building, I made sure to have the rest of my drones on high alert for any signs of activity as something about this place was making my nerves stand on end. Upon the confirmation of no hostile contacts present, I ordered the rest of my drones to enter the building as well, minus a couple of hornets I decided to leave guarding the entrance while the rest of us began making our way through the maze of corridors.
Entering into the building, I saw that the place looked to be just as abandoned as all the other buildings in the city, however this place seemed to not even be touched by ferals and the like looking for shelter. Sure everything looked to be messed up but I could not see a single trace of activity in the rooms as we moved through the corridors methodically, keeping our spike launchers at the ready at all times. Entering a research room of some sort, I saw a large amount of glass containers which looked to have at one point helped strange plants and funguses although most of which had died long ago whenever this place was abandoned to its fate. I guess this helps confirm that this place was some sort of research building focused on plants and stuff. As we continued to make our way throughout the building, my drones and I found more and more of the black tendrils which covered the ground and were familiar in some way, however I could not place my finger on it.
Eventually after looking through a handful more rooms filled to the brim with plant specimens, my drones and I encountered a stairwell leading both down into the underground and upwards to the second floor. I made note that the downwards stairwell had a larger than usual amount of the black tendrils which snaked out from the stairwell before infesting the rest of the building. Deciding that I did not wish to go down there, I sent about half of my force down while I and the rest of my drones went up the stairs and checked out the second floor where there were noticeably less tendrils. As my hornets clambered up the stairs, noticeably avoiding the black vine like tendrils whenever possible, I noticed that there seemed to be some artificial light coming from above which was strange, I would have assumed that all the power had been disabled for these ruins.
Moving closer to the source of the light, we eventually entered what looked to be a control room with a large amount of screens and control panels, most of which were entirely deactivated and in some cases destroyed outright. All except for one which seemed to be a simple control panel with a large amount of lights associated with various sections of the compound like the power generators and various research rooms. Looking around, I eventually found a key stating which faintly blinking meant what and quickly began transcribing each of the dim lights which were still finding enough power to give off a noticeable glow. First to gain my attention was the power generators which were flashing a red light stating that they were completely down, however looking at the auxiliary power systems, they were glowing a faint yellow which stated that they were still at least partially functioning. Guess that explains where this thing is pulling the power from, the pitance that it is.
Continuing down the line of blinking lights, I see that most if not all of the systems making up the building and a few of the other, much smaller, buildings surrounding this one seemed to be more or less non-functional which should be expected given that this place had been abandoned for at least a couple decades. As I reached a few lights noted as containment units and found that most were deactivated or destroyed, I received a few messages from my drones I had sent downwards stating that they had found something that I should probably have a look at. Slipping out of the hornet I was currently in and transferring over to one of the hornets down stairs before coming face to face with what they had found. Floating around, suspended by some sort of force field was a disgustingly large bulbous black clump of flesh with faint blue marks and bulbs dotting around its body. Why in the seven hells does this place have a rot specimen? Sigh, I guess this explains where all the power which the still functioning generators is being pumped into. At least it hadn’t gotten out of its containment, that would make this ten times wors- … waaait a minute.
Looking down to the ground where the black tendrils snaked across the floor leading to two other containment units which were worryingly not activated and had two, thankfully smaller, iterations of the rot simply laying there, as if hibernating. Shit! Alright maybe if we back up slowly they won’t notice our presence. It was then the two rot clumps and their many tendrils began pulsating before marks and bulbs on their body began to glow a faint blue and some began to move. Alright, change of plans. Everyone RUN! My drones were quick to obey as they powered on their wings and bolted for the stairwell as the tendrils began writhing as if searching for my drones. One even lurched out and grabbed one of my hornets as they attempted to escape the building, dragging the poor drone to the ground and more tendrils moved in to help keep down my struggling troops who fought valiantly which thankfully diverted tendrils which were dangerously close to my other drones to quickly flew up the stairs and out of the building.
A few tendrils attempted to stop our escape however my hornets quickly fired their launchers and pinned those to the walls of the building and my harvester sub drones proved to be rather effective as they cut right through the rot tendrils that got close. Taking to the skies as quickly as they could, I could see that the rest of my drones seemed to have managed to get out unmolested by the rot tendrils which were definitely not as numerous as the ones underground and they were now covering the rest of my drones retreat as they fired their launchers and cut down any tendrils which got close. Linking up with the rest of my drones, my various hornets quickly turned their own spike launchers to bare against the tendrils, managing to land a few shots before I ordered them to fall back as one of the rot tendrils lashed out and nearly swatted another one of my hornets out of the sky which I decided was too close for comfort.
Turning around as we flew back to the mines and the rest of my drones, I watched as the far side of the cavern where the facility was began to pulse blue as the rot emerged from its slumber and began moving through the fungus forest. I have no idea how the rot works but given that they’re fleshy, I suspect that letting them feast off of the mushrooms is probably going to bite me in the ass later. Slipping out of the hornets as the flew back to the outpost, I began scrambling to assemble as many fire beetles as I could from all of my territories as they had been proven to be one of my best anti-rot drones meaning they would be instrumental in fending off those things from escaping the cavern. As it would turn out, I was rather lacking in the fire beetle department as I could only assemble about a dozen of them which means that I would have to wait a bit before I could start deploying them en masse.
Deciding to make the process as quick as possible, I began ordering for the construction of fire beetles from every available small drone works in my territory but it would still take a while for them to all fabricate and be transported over here, especially from places like the warehouse outpost and the newer outposts near the front lines. While I waited, I continued to watch as the rot began infesting the cavern with reckless abandon and from where my crab was standing, I could see as one after another the large fungus trees toppled over to be consumed by the rot. As the fungal forest was being consumed by the now fully awakened rot, I began wondering whether or not they would be able to use their newly acquired food supplies to create more of the damned tendrils or even more rot clusters. At least there’s only two, maybe three, of them down there. Hopefully my fire beetles will be able to burn the forest down before the rot gets a chance to eat all of it.
Speaking of which, my drones, a few of the suicidal drones had arrived from the factory and were already making their way down the mine shaft over to my position. Once they arrived, I gestured to a few of my hornets who quickly picked up the four fire beetles before flying down to the base of the cavern before placing the fire beetles amidst the fungal forest which they promptly began burning down to the ground. Hopefully they would be able to burn down at least half of the mushroom tree before the rot could eat it or to my beetles for that matter. Watching as the cavern began to glow a bright reddish orange, I decided to check up on the rest of my territory as I waited for more of my beetles to finish being fabricated and transported over to the mining outpost. Deciding to check on my forces in Ping’s territory first, I drifted over to the outpost that my forces had helped Ping take back which was now returning to what I was guessing was its full capacity.
Checking up on my drones which I had managed to rescue from enemy territory, I found that most had been repaired back to functionality and were now going about their duties which mostly revolved around helping out Pings drones with the various patrols or, if my spiders deemed them unfit, working to assist with the movement of supplies around the outpost along with some light salvaging. A fair amount of my veteran drones had been sent back to whatever force I had taken the form, mostly the force at Churn’s front line with the occasional drone working in sudo retirement which garrison or mine work afforded them. After all, they were likely needed more at Churn's front line where active fighting was still occurring on a regular basis rather than in Ping’s territory where the corrupted AI was being pushed back as Ping got their feet under themselves as they began pumping out drones and defenses.
Checking up on the outpost which Churn had lent me, I found that the enemy force had begun moving back into the now destroyed production hub however not in any significant numbers as the outpost was likely deemed to be not worth the effort of putting a large garrison there. The forces present were likely only there to inform them if I was making moves to attack more of their territory so that they could make the proper adjustments. Thankfully this newly established enemy garrison could not stop my stealth hounds as they occasionally sent back a member or two of their number to inform me of what was going on in enemy territory. In Coopers stead, one of the next most senior drone which happened to be an ant had been receiving the most recent of reports from the stealth hounds which mostly consisted with random enemy movements and caravans which did not really affect me given that I was not willing to start sending out my force to being taking the fight to the next enemy stronghold, at least not while my forces in Ping were still criminally understaffed and my resource stocks were at a minimum.
Perhaps once things stabilize and more resources become available I will begin tasking my force with attacking however until then I was content to sit around on the defense. The thought of constructing more stealth hounds until I could start having them raid caravans briefly flittered across my mind but I quickly cut that off and stored it in my head for later use once the whole situation with the rot back in the mines is resolved. Speaking of which, as I finished reading through reports and stamping away thoughts of pressing the attack while my supply lines were strained, I received the message stating that the first batch of fire beetles were now finished construction and were beginning to be collected by the subway system and would soon be delivered to the mining outpost. Good, the longer I wait, the more dangerous those things will probably become. Hopefully my beetles will be able to handle whatever they encounter down there.
Floating back over to the mining outpost and down to the cavern entrance, I could see that the initial four fire beetles had done a good job at burning down what they could as I was able to easily see that well over half of the forest had been light ablaze as the fungal trees caught fire and whatever moisture the mushrooms had were quickly evaporated. Regardless, the rot still continued to feast upon the biomass that they could get their tendrils on and from where I was watching I could easily see that nearly a quarter of the fungal forest had been completely taken over and infested with rot puss as the area where the rot had infected began glowing blue as their residue began to take place and fester. Hopefully the fires will also be able to burn some of the rot along with the mushroom trees before the rest of my beetles arrive and with some luck take down whatever is left. But for now I watched the flames as they spread and burned down everything in its path.
Next
Sorry it’s late, I had to GM a bit of DnD which took priority over finishing up and posting this.

I didn’t realize until I was 24 that it wasn’t normal to have consistent colors assigned to certain numbers, and to hate certain numbers/number combinations based on the colors they make. It hit me then that the only reason I passed my math classes was bc of synesthesia. I memorized my times tables using the colors of the numbers.
For example, 5 x 5 = 25 is bright red. 2 is green, 4 is blue, and 6 is teal, so 246 makes this pretty green/blue/teal ombré color. 3 is yellow, 5 is red, 8 is burnt dark orange, so 358 makes this gross pukey orangey-dark brown color.
Also music has texture. I love synth for this reason bc it’s✨cronchy✨

Afternoon rain endures the longest. The thoughts it draws out of me are endless. The afternoon light tinges the tree leaves down towards the pavement; tapping on the streaks of oil mixed into water. Like the imprint of a body never leaving my bed. Impressions that alter your perceptions become indistinguishable from Truth.
Late night drives into nothingness. Where we’re going is less important than how we get there. Like a body swept across the weariness of exertion. The hormones generated by the brain render the bounds of the self indistinct. Maybe that’s why I run and continue to punish my body in ways that make a lot of people wince. It’s not for asceticism, it’s for pleasure. Or the reduction of pain. Although distance dictates that line in innumerable ways.
It’s quiet. A still night. Three minutes past midnight and the bus screams past the windows of a third floor walk up. It’ll be the last one of the night. The streets are quiet and the only people out are drifting home on their drink of choice; warm in their belly. Maybe the only warmth they’ll feel tonight. But maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s all right. I walk a block to my favorite neon sign. Hues of bright blue, angry red, and golden yellow flicker onto my face like it might finally die…but it doesn’t. It’s reliable. In a way a lot of people aren’t. I turn the corner and walk down to the river. The duck I’ve nicknamed Lucy is there. It’s a spot I haven’t ever shared. Perhaps one day I will but for now it’s mine. Some secrets I guard with my life. My heart—for whatever reason—isn’t one of them.
It’s like in those moments when you feel as though you’ve arrived a day too early—or too late. The space is filled with a discomfort you can’t quite pinpoint. It’s uncanny. Lacan described it as a moment where we struggle to distinguish between good or bad. A lot of my life has felt like that in one way or another. I acquiesce to that feeling. It’s better than to miss out on anything.
I’ve grown weary of city life. It made sense to live here when my outlook and needs were different. I have a vision of where I want to be in what way and with whom. The lines are fuzzy, the paint drips from the canvas, and entire patches are left white. In my wariness it’s discernible and I reach ever out.
It feels as though I’ve lived entire lives up until this moment. All I want is to know how I would appear to the one who was finally able to scrutinize all these thoughts never uttered to anyone.
For now, I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. -W.B. Yeats

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

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★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

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★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

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★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

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★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

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★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

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★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

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★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

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★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

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★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

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★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

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★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

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★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

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★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

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★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

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★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

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★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

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★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01

★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66

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★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88

★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55

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★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94

★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55

WEAPONS

AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95

AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95

M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51

StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43

AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38

StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64

P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03

AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00

M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48

AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97

StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96

StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85

Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42

AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53

Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory

Knives - Bowie Knife, Butterfly Knife, Falchion Knife, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, Huntsman Knife, M9 Bayonet, Bayonet, Karambit, Shadow Daggers, Stiletto Knife, Ursus Knife, Navaja Knife, Talon Knife, Classic Knife, Paracord Knife, Survival Knife, Nomad Knife, Skeleton Knife, Patterns - Gamma Doppler, Doppler (Phase 1, Phase 2, Phase 3, Phase 4, Black Pearl, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald), Crimson Web, Lore, Fade, Ultraviolet, Night, Marble Fade (Fire & Ice, Fake FI), Case Hardened (Blue Gem), Autotronic, Slaughter, Black Laminate, Tiger Tooth, Boreal Forest, Scorched, Blue Steel, Vanilla, Damascus Steel, Forest DDPAT, Urban Masked, Freehand, Stained, Bright Water, Safari Mesh, Rust Coat, Gloves - Bloodhound Gloves (Charred, Snakebite, Guerrilla, Bronzed), Driver Gloves (Snow Leopard, King Snake, Crimson Weave, Imperial Plaid, Black Tie, Lunar Weave, Diamondback, Rezan the Red, Overtake, Queen Jaguar, Convoy, Racing Green), Hand Wraps (Cobalt Skulls, CAUTION!, Overprint, Slaughter, Leather, Giraffe, Badlands, Spruce DDPAT, Arboreal, Constrictor, Desert Shamagh, Duct Tape), Moto Gloves (Spearmint, POW!, Cool Mint, Smoke Out, Finish Line, Polygon, Blood Pressure, Turtle, Boom!, Eclipse, 3rd Commando Company, Transport), Specialist Gloves (Crimson Kimono, Tiger Strike, Emerald Web, Field Agent, Marble Fade, Fade, Foundation, Lt. 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P90 (ScaraB Rush, Neoqueen, Astral Jörmungandr, Run and Hide, Emerald Dragon, Cold Blooded, Death by Kitty, Baroque Red, Vent Rush, Blind Spot, Asiimov, Trigon, Sunset Lily, Death Grip, Leather, Nostalgia, Fallout Warning, Tiger Pit, Schermatic, Virus, Shapewood, Glacier Mesh, Shallow Grave, Chopper, Desert Warfare), MAC-10 (Sakkaku, Hot Snakes, Copper Borre, Red Filigree, Gold Brick, Graven, Case Hardened, Stalker, Amber Fade, Neon Rider, Tatter, Curse, Propaganda, Nuclear Garden, Disco Tech, Toybox, Heat, Indigo), UMP-45 (Wild Child, Fade, Blaze, Day Lily, Minotaur's Labyrinth, Crime Scene, Caramel, Bone Pile, Momentum, Primal Saber), MP7 (Teal Blossom, Fade, Nemesis, Whiteout, Asterion, Bloosport, Abyssal Apparition, Full Stop, Special Delivery, Neon Ply, Asterion, Ocean Foam, Powercore, Scorched, Impire), PP-Bizon (Modern Hunter, Rust Coat, Forest Leaves, Antique, High Roller, Blue Streak, Seabird, Judgement of Anubis, Bamboo Print, Embargo, Chemical Green, Coblat Halftone, Fuel Rod, Photic Zone, Irradiated Alert, Carbon Fiber), MP9 (Featherweight, Wild Lily, Pandora's Box, Stained Glass, Bulldozer, Dark Age, Hot Rod, Hypnotic, Hydra, Rose Iron, Music Box, Setting Sun, Food Chain, Airlock, Mount Fuji, Starlight Protector, Ruby Poison Dart, Deadly Poison), MP5-SD (Liquidation, Oxide Oasis, Phosphor, Nitro, Agent, Autumn Twilly), Shotguns, Machineguns - 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My husband and I just moved into our new house over a week ago, and since then, we've been getting multiple bright yellow, orange, or blue postcards (sometimes letters in an envelope) every day stating "WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU URGENTLY REGARDING YOUR LOAN" or some variation, even saying the name of our lender on them, making it look like they're coming from our lender. Then in tiny print at the bottom, they state "not affiliated with [blank] mortgage. This is CRAZY! Do people fall for this? How do we make it stop? Apologies if this has already been posted. I did a quick scan and didn't see any other such posts on here.

Okay, so I have a cousin who's a little bit of a wild child in my very vanilla family.
When we were kids, we hung out a lot even though there was an age-gap. As a kid, I thought she was so cool. But now as an adult I'm like... wait, why was a 16 year old besties with a 10 year old?
Anyway, the issue came a few years ago when I was 16 and she was 22.
My older sister had a wedding and my cousin balked at what everyone was meant to wear (pastels for girls as it was a spring wedding). Suits for the boys. I also hated the rules because I hated everything girly. My little rebellion was to wear black leggings under my lavender dress
My cousin's was to dye her chin length hair purple, moose it into a swoop, wear a purple vest suit with a yellow tie, and then wear white-pale foundation and bright red lipstick. It was worst clash of colors ever.
Honestly... I don't remember a lot of fall out other than a lot of side-eye. At the time I was disappointed it didn't cause a stir, but now I realize how gracious my sister had been. She didn't make a scene and just let my cousin do her thing.
About 9 months ago, I was at my sister's house and saw a group wedding photo framed on a stairwell. Welp, my sister had done some pretty good photoshopping and color-shifted my cousin's suit and hair to black and made the makeup a natural tone. Because it was a group photo and the camera was pulled back, my cousin looked like a guy with a crappy haircut.
I didn't say anything but honestly, my sister had been just so mature and gracious about the whole thing. I'm embarrassed about my 16 year old self's thoughts about her wedding.
My cousin found out about the photoshop recently and has just been on a tear. She thinks the family is forcefully conforming her and were taking everything special from her. She wants to go limited contact with the family, and only contact them through me.
I told her... look, I'm about the age you were then, and what you did back then was stupid, not funny.
She argued back that I had laughed at the time. Which, I did. We sort of egged each other on, and though I knew she was going to dye her hair, I didn't know she was going to go full custome full of clashing colors. Though had I known, I may not have stopped her. I looked up to her so much and thought she was just awesome all around.
Here's where I may be the asshole. I told her that I did laugh at the time, but now I'm older and realize it was messed up to dress like that for a very traditional wedding. That she made an ass of herself, and that my sister did her a favor by toning down the look in the pictures.
I guess that's made me the enemy now because I haven't heard from my cousin in weeks.
This is so stupid to cut someone off over, but I know she feels like the odd one out in our very bland family.
I don't know, internet. What do you think? Was I in the wrong? Should I reach out?

Overview

		⚽
Home	Orlando City SC	0
Away	Inter Miami CF	0
Status	Full Time
Venue	Inter&Co Stadium
City	Orlando, Florida
Date	Wednesday May 15, 2024
Time	07:30 PM EDT

♻️ Auto-refreshing reddit comments link
Lineups

	Orlando City SC	Pos		Inter Miami CF	Pos
	Pedro Gallese, #1	G		Drake Callender, #1	G
	Wilder Cartagena, #16	CD		Nicolás Freire, #21	CD-L
	Rodrigo Schlegel, #15	CD-L		Tomás Avilés, #6	CD-R
	David Brekalo, #4	CD-R		Franco Negri, #33	LB
	Nicolás Lodeiro, #14	CM-L		Marcelo Weigandt, #57	RB
	Martín Ojeda, #11	CM-R		Sergio Busquets, #5	CM
	César Araujo, #5	AM		Benjamin Cremaschi, #30	LM
	Facundo Torres, #10	LM		Julian Gressel, #24	RM
	Iván Angulo, #77	RM		Luis Suárez, #9	F
	Luis Muriel, #9	CF-L		Robert Taylor, #16	LF
	Duncan McGuire, #13	CF-R		Matías Rojas, #7	RF
	Felipe, #8	SUB		Leonardo Afonso, #73	SUB
	Jeorgio Kocevski, #33	SUB		Yannick Bright, #42	SUB
	Mason Stajduhar, #31	SUB		Leonardo Campana, #8	SUB
	Yutaro Tsukada, #34	SUB		Serhiy Kryvtsov, #27	SUB
	Abdi Salim, #28	SUB		Jordi Alba, #18	SUB
	Jack Lynn, #27	SUB		Carlos Dos Santos, #13	SUB
	Rafael Santos, #3	SUB		David Ruiz, #41	SUB
	Dagur Dan Thórhallsson, #17	SUB		Lawson Sunderland, #43	SUB
	Kyle Smith, #24	SUB		Noah Allen, #32	SUB

Match events via ESPN

• First Half begins.
  
• 45'+1' First Half ends, Orlando City SC 0, Inter Miami CF 0.
  
• 45' Second Half begins Orlando City SC 0, Inter Miami CF 0.
  
• 57' 🟨 Benjamín Cremaschi (Inter Miami CF) is shown the yellow card for a bad foul.
  
• 64' 🔄 Substitution, Inter Miami CF. Leonardo Campana replaces Luis Suárez.
  
• 64' 🔄 Substitution, Inter Miami CF. Jordi Alba replaces Franco Negri.
  
• 65' 🟨 Robert Taylor (Inter Miami CF) is shown the yellow card for a bad foul.
  
• 71' 🟨 Luis Muriel (Orlando City SC) is shown the yellow card.
  
• 72' 🟨 César Araújo (Orlando City SC) is shown the yellow card for a bad foul.
  
• 79' 🟨 Nicolás Freire (Inter Miami CF) is shown the yellow card for a bad foul.
  
• 79' 🔄 Substitution, Orlando City SC. Dagur Thórhallsson replaces Luis Muriel.
  
• 80' 🔄 Substitution, Inter Miami CF. Leo Afonso replaces Robert Taylor.
  
• 80' 🔄 Substitution, Orlando City SC. Rafael Santos replaces Iván Angulo.
  
• 80' 🔄 Substitution, Inter Miami CF. David Ruíz replaces Benjamín Cremaschi.
  
• 85' 🔄 Substitution, Orlando City SC. Jack Lynn replaces Duncan McGuire.
  
• 86' 🔄 Substitution, Inter Miami CF. Serhii Kryvtsov replaces Tomás Avilés because of an injury.
  
• 90'+4' 🔄 Substitution, Orlando City SC. Yutaro Tsukada replaces Facundo Torres.
  

^{This thread is managed by a bot running on AWS Lambda. All data is sourced from ESPN APIs. The project can be found on GitHub at mrundle/mls-reddit-bot. This post was last updated at 2024-05-15 20:36:15 CDT.}

Okay, so I have a cousin who's a little bit of a wild child in my very vanilla family.
To me, she was always the cooler cousin who I looked up to. We're both girls for the record. When we were kids, we hung out a lot even though there was an age-gap. As a child, I thought she was so cool. But now as an adult I'm like... wait, why was a 16 year old besties with a 10 year old? It's crazy how perspectives change.
Anyway, the issue came a few years ago when I was 16 and she was 22. (Approx, we're 5 1/2 years apart.)
My older sister had a wedding and my cousin balked at what everyone was meant to wear (pastels for girls as it was a spring wedding). Suits for the boys. I also hated the rules because I was going through a phase where I hated everything girly. My little rebellion was to wear black leggings under my lavender dress. You couldn't see them.
My cousin's was to dye her chin length hair purple, moose it into a swoop, wear a purple vest suit with a yellow tie, and then wear white-pale foundation and bright red lipstick. It was worst clash of colors ever.
Honestly... I don't remember a lot of fall out other than a lot of side-eye. At the time I was disappointed it didn't cause a stir, but now I realize how gracious my sister had been. She didn't make a scene and just let my cousin do her thing.
About 9 months to a year ago, I was at my sister's house and saw one of the wedding photos framed on a stairwell. It was a big group photo. Welp, my sister had done some pretty good photoshopping and color-shifted my cousin's suit and hair to black and made the makeup a natural tone. Because it was a group photo and the camera was pulled back, my cousin looked like a guy with a crappy haircut. It took me a minute to find her.
I didn't say anything but honestly, my sister had been just so mature and gracious about the whole thing. I'm embarrassed about my 16 year old self's thoughts about her wedding.
My cousin found out about the photoshop recently (not through me) and has just been on a tear. She thinks the family is forcefully conforming her and were taking everything special from her, to make her more like them. She wants to go limited contact with the family, and only contact them through me.
I told her... look, I'm about the age you were then, and what you did back then was stupid, not funny.
She argued back that I had laughed at the time. Which, I did. We sort of egged each other on, and though I knew she was going to dye her hair, I didn't know she was going to go full custome full of clashing colors. Though had I known, I may not have stopped her. I looked up to her so much and thought she was just awesome all around.
Here's where I may be the asshole. I told her that I did laugh at the time, but now I'm older and realize it was messed up to dress like that for a very traditional wedding and take attention away from the bride and groom. That she made an ass of herself, and that my sister did her a favor by toning down the look in the pictures.
I guess that's made me the enemy now because I haven't heard from my cousin in weeks.
This is so stupid to cut someone off over, but more and more recently I wish she would just calm down at family gatherings. She's always sniping and picking political fights nowadays with family members she knows votes differently than her, and made some other remarks I used to think were funny but now... I just think are classless. (Really rude stuff about people in our generation having children.) Maybe I'm growing up to be a boring normie too, but she can be exhausting. I know she feels like the odd one out in our very bland family, but she doesn't make it easy on herself either by being constantly confrontational.
I don't know, internet. What do you think? Was I in the wrong? Should I reach out?

A rubber ducky floats in a tub
loving and amusing algae;
it only need be yellow
amidst all of the once-wished,
once-was, and now-grows
-without-obtrusion, life keeps
finding the forgotten,
what lack-thereof left behind
ㅤ
Everywhere there is moss,
vines, and silence beneath
the still-sky, the always-sky, the blue
ㅤ
The ever-green came through the cracks,
the cracks came after the decay, the decay
came with the destruction, the destruction
was never-ending for a time, the
nothingness no longer thirsts,
ㅤ
No-one yearns
ㅤ
Humanity’s supernova
was faster than we could
say “burn bright”
ㅤ
The scientists knew it
was Friday, the politicians knew it
was payday, the news knew nothing,
the other channels played
old movies like any other end
-of-a-week
ㅤ
the goodbyes-in-hindsight
were all so mundane-in-retrospect
many through the ones and zeros,
(which are now-gone,
if they truly ever-existed)
many last moments were more ideal,
ㅤ
A mother repeats to her baby
“not a word to your father” but
catches her glancing down
into the water smiling, tears pooling
in her eyes
ㅤ
A barely legal adult smeared
with vomit hears her mother
softly call her into the bathroom
then-unchanged from
her childhood and stops herself from
repeating to her mother
she is not a baby anymore
ㅤ
A father hears the first
“your father can never find out
about this”, finds out
he is scary and there are secrets
innumerable, he decides on a
loving, at worst amusing,
gesture against his nature;
he waits outside, hiding, watching
where he will stay-forever
to see his daughter
smile for what will-feel-like
the first time
ㅤ
A warm bath is drawn to never-be-taken
ㅤ
A drunk college freshman alone
and quiet, forever just trying to
stay afloat
at a homecoming celebration
is the only one to catch
bits and pieces of
The Rules of Attraction
on a cheap TV
thinking of everything that has
already happened in the first semester
of the rest-of-her-life
she will-definitely-never tell her parents
ㅤ
after the characters leave
The End of the World Party
as the credits roll backwards she, herself,
stumbles through the snow,
amidst the darkness and stars, forgetting
“home” should mean
a dorm now, knowing her mommy
will draw her a bath,
wishing her dad would
toss in a yellow
rubber duck,
just like when she was
ㅤ ——
ㅤ @infpeachtea on all platforms
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I wrote this for a writing prompt in writingprompts, but not many people will see it because the prompt is a little old. I just wanted to share. Wrote during breaks at work so forgive me if it’s a little rough around the edges.
The prompt was, “Watching the man or woman of your dreams fall in love with someone else.”
feedback appreciated
::Caitlyn::
I watched her through her kitchen window.
She stood by the sink—wine glass in her hand, gently swirling it as she looked at her phone. God, was she pretty tonight. The yellow kitchen light cast a glow upon her skin, and I swear she was the brightest thing in the room—more so even than the bulb itself. Fishnet lace snaked up her legs, red as summer wine, and her bathrobe parted just enough at the top to tease—just enough to draw your attention to it so that she could playfully scold you for looking.
It’s what she did. I knew what she was waiting for, though. This was the first night he hadn’t shown up in over a week.
I didn’t get it. This guy—the guy who tracks muddy boots through the house, the guy that smokes cigarettes in the laundry room even when she specifically tells him not to, the guy who hasn’t touched a single dirty dish in as long as he’d been there—a dirty anything for that matter, and he’s the one she swoons for? Fucking bastard. That’s all he was. A dirty fucking bastard that didn’t deserve a woman even half as lovely as my Caitlyn.
She doesn’t get it—really, she doesn’t and it makes me feel kind of sorry for her. God, I mean if she only knew the things I’d do for her—the things that we have in common. We would be so happy together. I like to read just like she does, the same genres and everything. I even picked up the book she started last week, and it’s already one of my favorites. She likes to jog; I like to jog; she likes binging shows; I like binging shows. Both of us have a horrible sweet tooth as well. I can never help but smile at the thought of that.
Now, it’s three hours past eight, which was the time that he was supposed to arrive. She’d moved to the couch and was now lying on her back, letting one leg dangle to the floor. Blue light from the TV illuminated her features in the dark of the room, and it was not difficult to tell that she was upset. God, I hate to see her cry.
Occasionally, she would glance over. She would peer out the window with that solemn face and look in my direction. At first, I thought she was trying to see over me, to look over the hedge and into the trees behind her drive. After a few of her glances, though, I wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t looking directly at me. Maybe she needed me. Perhaps this is her way of saying, “Come get me, Richard.” And what if it is? What if this was my chance, and I missed it because I thought about it too hard? Maybe she knew I’d been out here, watching all along, for all this time. If that was the case, then she surely knew that I wouldn’t be able to resist those watery eyes. It was time—time to be the man she needed—to finally confess my love for her, then hold her tight as she did the same.
I straightened myself—no more hiding. No more lurking in the shadows while she filled the void in her heart with all of these other worthless men. It was time she had a real man, a man who cared.
I walked to the door. For a second, I wondered if she’d left it unlocked for me. She’d done that before and pretended she was asleep whenever I made my way inside. She always did like to tease like that. I almost just opened it and walked straight in, but on second thought, I figured it might’ve been a little jarring. I decided to knock instead. To knock in the same sort of way that my heart was currently knocking against my eardrums. Why was I so nervous? She loved me; I knew she did, but still, I was nervous. Sweat beaded down the side of my face like condensation. I wiped it away with my sleeve and took a deep breath. This was it. In a few moments, I’d finally have my Caitlyn. I’d finally hold her in my arms like I’d always dreamed.
I brought my fist to the door, and my stomach tightened into a knot.
Just as I was about to do it, I heard gravel crunch in the distance.
Quickly, I darted back into the safety of the shadows, and I could see two bright headlights coming through the trees as they bounced down the dirt road.
It was him—the old Chevy Silverado with the silver toolbox in the back.
Of course, it had to be him.
He’d messed up this time, though; there was no way she’d forgive him now, not after tonight. With a smirk, I watched, wondering what kind of pitiful attempt he’d make to try and win her back this time, knowing that whatever it was wouldn’t be enough. Then he stepped out of his truck.
He was covered in black grease from head to foot and wore a mechanic uniform. He held something small in his arms, something with a bright red bow tied around its neck. It was hard to tell, but it looked like a little black lab from where I stood. Trustingly, it pressed its head against his chest and darted its eyes around the new scenery.
He walked up the porch steps. He was going to knock, but before he could, Caitlyn flung the door inward and glared at him. As much as I hated how she felt, that twisted expression of anger she gave him gave me more joy than I could’ve imagined. That joy was only fleeting, though. The man flashed a white smile as he looked down at his arms, rubbing the puppy’s head. It melted the expression right off of her face.
“Oh my God!” She squealed, happily shuffling her feet as she held her arms out.
I was appalled. A puppy? One dog and all of his sins are erased?
The two of them seemed so giddy together. They laughed and hugged and spoke in high voices to the puppy while they rubbed his head. The whole scene made me sick to my stomach if you really want to know the truth.
I don’t know how he did it—how he managed to weasel his way back into her heart and occupy the space that was so rightfully mine—truly, I didn’t. Who knows, maybe it was all an act. Perhaps it was her way of telling me, “you should’ve knocked.” And now, this is my punishment.
Maybe I should’ve. Maybe then I could’ve been the one to answer that door. A puppy wouldn’t soften my eyes, not like hers. I failed her, I know, but I will not fail her again. That is the last night he will ever come knocking on her door. I’m certain of it.

Hello everyone!
I work in an industrial recycling lab, and I often need to test to see if samples coming in have cyanide in them. I do a distillation/coloration is accordance with EPA Methods 901C and 9014 I'm relatively new, and so far haven't had any real issues, until today, when making Pyridine Barbituric Acid for the coloration portion (6% Barbituic acid, 30% pyridine, 6% HCl). It was BRIGHT yellow. As long as I've worked here, PBA has always been a dark peach/orange color. I knew it wasn't right but I added it to my benchtop QCs anyway just to see (science, you understand, haha). They were ALL bright yellow. Instead of purple, the method high and method low turned shades of red, as they had cyanide. Super cool looking, also super wrong, lol.
My manager is also confused as to how it could have gotten so wonky. I'm thinking maybe during the process of making it I overheated the barbituic acid and burnt it? Hard to say. I'm going to try again tomorrow but if anyone has any troubleshooting ideas I'd love to hear them!

Bit of background first. I was born with Stickler Syndrome; it can affect a lot of different things but for me the primary issue has been hearing loss. I am basically totally deaf in my right ear and still very hard of hearing in my left. I wear hearing aids, but it’s not a perfect solution. I am also on the low support needs side of the autism spectrum, though I’m not open about that fact at work. Because of the hearing problems and autism, I’m not much of a conversationalist.
I have a college degree but am currently working at a grocery store bakery as a cake decorator and clerk. I have tried to be direct with my coworkers about my hearing loss, told them to get my attention before speaking, if I’m not responding to them I’m not trying to be rude, etc. It does not seem to click for them. They actually thought I was being hyperbolic about having a hearing loss until one of them saw me take out my hearing aids to answer the phone. I even purchased a pin to put on my work hat that says I’m hard of hearing and to please speak up. It doesn’t seem to help even though it’s bright yellow.
It’s been a consistant problem (primarily with coworkers from other departments) where people will come up behind me and then start talking. I don’t hear them approaching, so naturally I get startled when there’s suddenly someone behind me. I’ve messed up a few cakes because of this. Sometimes coworkers (almost always the middle aged guys) will stand there for an uncomfortable period of time and just sort of stare at me. Not sure what to make of that, if they are being creepy, if they want food, to talk, or whatever. Like I said, I’m not much of a conversationalist and try to keep chats short and direct because I’m often unsure what (if anything) is being said, and what I do understand has to go through the Autism Filter (tm).
The worst part of the job is customer interactions. The way the bakery is set up, it’s really hard to see customers from behind the counter unless they are standing in a very specific spot. There is also lots of background noise from people working, the radio, and various machinery. I usually don’t notice a customer is there even if they are trying to get my attention, this is especially frustrating because I often will be the only one working. Even my fully hearing coworkers have trouble with noticing customers.
The other day I asked the store manager if it would be possible to get a service bell for our counter. I told him that I have trouble seeing and hearing customers from behind the counter, and that it would benefit my coworkers and customers as well. His response was to tell me to just work in a different area of the bakery. And yes, he is aware of the fact that I am disabled.
Sorry that this is rather disjointed. I’m just tired of this shit and needed to vent. I’m sick of always having to put in the extra effort for others and nobody doing the bare minimum for me. I don’t know how to get them to understand that I am actually disabled and not just wearing hearing aids for fun or whatever.

Platform(s): Windows PC - I believe I played it on XP - specifically accessible through Windows Media Center. At least, that's where I always played it.
Genre: Isometric Action Puzzle Game
Estimated year of release: I believe 2000-2010 Almost certainly wasn't after 2010
Graphics/art style: The whole art direction was very pastel, "cutesy", and cartoony. Every level was made up of a grid of tiles, typically pastel yellow or pink. The camera always centered on your character hopping up and down around the level, with the tiles changing color as your little character hopped on it. I think the score and title was written with big bubble letters. Everything was clearly drawn with pixels but it wasn't 8 or 16-bit. The SFX were also very light cartoony - getting hit by an enemy would make a high pitched "oh" noise
Notable characters: There were many different enemies, but the only character I remember is the main character. You would play a purple little blob with purple ball feet, big black cartoon eyes and a sort of head stalk that ended in a bright yellow star that would swing back and forth.
Notable gameplay mechanics: The game was kind of like Q*bert but flat. Your main character would hop/bounce around on a grid of square tiles that make a sort of level floor - not a pyramid like in Q*bert - and as they hopped on each one it would change color. The goal of each level was to change all the tiles of one color to the other, like from yellow to pink, and avoid whatever enemies there were moving around the stage at the same time. You could play the game with the arrow keys, just pick a direction and your character would hop that way on each tile until you hit an enemy, changed direction, or fell off the stage.
Other details: I always played it through the Windows Media Center application - I would click on that and be able to navigate to a game section to play it. I don't believe it was bundled with it, I can find no information about any WMC bundled games online.

Foreword: My Lord Kellereth the Yellow,
This collection was found in the repository of a wild wizard who had succumbed to Chimerism. How they have remained intact for almost 600 years is beyond my understanding, but I have assembled them in what I believe is chronological order, as they are not dated. It is my hope that this account can bring you closer to your maker's guidance, or at least provide us more insight into the great tragedy that has befallen us all.
May Her Sun shine Eternal,
Edmund Fairwind, Sunscale Adherent
To my esteemed colleague, Courtmaster Verellion Trinare,
What can one say on the Lady of the Flowing Breeze that has not been attempted by hundreds of poets and minstrels? Her Grace is the wind at your back, the entrancing energy of a performance that threatens to sweep you up into it. Between her older brother Shurlosh and her younger sister Naralith, the so-called “Storm Siblings” have helped bring wondrous marvels to our world, including the great Sundial that adorns the central plaza of Confluence. My Lady Denam's pleasure at its creation was quite evident to me and my fellow Keepers, I assure. While I know the Archcleric already blessed it at the unveiling, please pass on my personal gratitude to the architect and his crew, as well as to They who made it possible. Bright days lay ahead, I am certain.
Sunlight bless your path,
Keeper of Denam, Lady of the Eternal Sun, Delenar Corwin
To my dear colleague, Seashaper Arclight,
I must firmly disagree with your assessment of your Lord Shurlosh's brothers. The stoicism characteristic of Lord Fanink, Lord Mardell, and Lord Chaklochuik is not “emblematic of their resistance to change” as you have put it, but an aspect of their resilience in the face of adversity. Without the Lord of the Ashen Warpath’s discipline, we would turn and flee at the first sign of danger; without the Lord of the Cavernous Depths’ diligence, we would shy from righteous toil and waste our time in slothful laxity; and without the Lord of the Unyielding Glacier's determination, we would surely wither under the strain and stress of hardship. Just as your Lord takes after his father, the great Primordial Iakor, in wishing to see great transformation and craft, so too do these three take after their mother, my great Primordial Lady Denam. Their stoicism is a virtue that we should aspire to emulate, not an “obstacle to progress” as you would have it be called. I strongly urge you to consult with my fellows among the Hearthkeepers, Artificiers, and Snowtreaders to gain a greater understanding of my Lady's sons and the value they provide Mortals.
Sunlight guide your steps,
Keeper of Denam, Lady of the Eternal Sun, Delenar Corwin
For the sun-blessed eyes of Meskaru the Orange,
I am grateful you have reached out to me on such a critical matter as to concern you and the Sunscale Order. I am appalled that the dunes are being encroached upon and destroyed by careless beachgoers, and in accordance with our Lady's will, seek to ameliorate the situation. Perhaps stationing one of your Sunscales there would be sufficient to convey the gravity of the issue? If that is too banal for one of your adherents, I may be able to set up a more permanent preserve in a few days. It is my hope that these options are to your liking.
Yours under Denam's watchful Sun,
Keeper Delenar Corwin
To my ever-charming peer, Radiant Meena Intevu,
Your display yesterday was truly breathtaking. Illusion or not, my heart has stirred like nothing else since I first truly understood Denam's light. Now I see yours, and that of your Lady Asuresi, and am moved beyond measure. I see now why the Lady of the Shimmering Dunes is known as the Golden Child of Denam. I implore, no, beg of you, to show me more such wonders as soon as you are able. Though perhaps a more private venue would be to our mutual benefit?
Yours in our Ladies’ Light,
Delenar Corwin
Something terrible has happened.
Last night, the Moon reached it's zenith, then stopped. It remained atop the firmament even as my Lady's Sun rose to warm the world, and it passed behind the Moon. At once, I heard Denam's voice clearer than any vision or dream, but it was no command, no guidance, no wisdom. It was a scream, a bloodcurdling cry. Then, silence. Denam's blessed Sun, giver of warmth, ordainer of law and justice... It is injured. Dying. The wound seeps divine blood, staining Her body as it now sinks towards the horizon. The Moon itself still remains in place, though I can no longer see His silvery light. It is as if it has been ripped from the sky. Now there is nothing but the wailing cries of terrified citizens and the dreadful mourning of dragons from the mountain. My Lady Denam, I cannot hear you, but if you can still hear me, please, return to us. Now, more than ever, we need your warmth and comfort, your guidance and order. Please. You are Eternal. You can't be gone.
For the Archcleric Renvar Goldawn,
I regret to inform you that the Temple of Iakor has been burned before I could obtain any useful documents. I could find no trace of the Shifters, and there are no records of them leaving the island. It is as if they have disappeared along with their master Iakor. The situation in Confluence continues to deteriorate, and without our Lady's miracles, the Keepers cannot restore order alone. Factionalism is rising, and several gangs have arisen to exploit the vulnerable and protect themselves. The Sunscales have deployed en masse to try and enforce order, but their numbers are insufficient to police the entire city, and the Prismatic Dragons remain mourning, inconsolable at the loss of our Lady. “The Eclipse”, I hear it called now. If you have any news of hope or contact from the Primordials, I beseech you to bring it to the city, else I fear I may have to join the ships of refugees fleeing across the Sea of Gods.
Denam preserve us,
Keeper Delenar Corwin
To my most gracious colleague, Radiant Meena Intevu,
I am filled with gratitude and melancholy at your offer of asylum. I fear that we may never hear Lady Denam's light or feel Her warmth again. Thus, if Lady Asuresi is willing to share her light with me, then it is only wise to accept. It is what She would have wanted. Please, await my arrival at your ship tomorrow. I will join your conclave in the southeast upon our arrival there.
Ever in Asuresi’s light,
Delenar Corwin

hi! didn’t get any photos unfortunately, but I saw a really interesting bird while walking home. I think it’s chick had fallen out of the tree (there was a baby bird in front of some bushes it was trying to feed) The bird looked like a mourning dove except it had a bright red beak, and the chick looked like some sort of sparrow baby (what I assume with the little research I’ve done so far) with a bright yellow beak. I live in the north east area of the US, and haven’t really seen any bird like that before? It could have been a mourning dove with some red stuff on its beak, but I don’t really know. Not really a bird watcher and it shows haha, but thanks!

I keep my notepad regularly updated. These were my thoughts on the first week of my new phone and then after months later with extended use. Here it is:
HONOR MAGIC 5 PRO
(My guess is that the cameras would fail first 27/12/23)
*GOOD*✓
PRICE, performance, camera, thermals, super bright, ltpo 1-120hz, ufs 4.0(won't struggle loading gallery photos), battery 5100mah amazing battery life, 220g, 3x 50mp cameras with night video + night selfies + cinematic mode + macro mode etc, ultrasonic fingerprint, 3d face unlock.
•Really nice Extended screenshots that aren't bugged (looking at you OnePlus 7 pro)
•Dual apps and dual sims
• I knew the camera was good but wow but still lacking optimisation in tough scenarios.
• I never knew screens could actually get better again , wow
•WiFi 7 or whatever is awesome
•Awesome Speed
• easy to use ui to organise the home screen
•Cool miniture multitasking windows
•extended screenshots work amazing especially on WhatsApp
•Grabbing text from images in the gallery is great but doesn't work sometimes with screenshots and webpages
•love one handed mode, easy to get to. Love the floating shutter button in the camera, I Really helps using the camera one handed.
The link to windows feature is meh but it's there.
*BAD on honor***
• The notch Vs 18:9 videos 😭
• notification issues, no matter how hard i try, some apps just won't give me notifications like push bullet. WhatsApp works fine. When I wake up in the morning and turn the wifi on the phone on, I expect the phone to scan through and give me things I've missed but nope, I got nothing. As I checked through my emails, I saw that I made a sale on eBay, but no notification or anything popped up even after turning WiFi on. After about a few minutes I go into eBay app settings, and then the notification of my sale comes through.
•Clicking WhatsApp youtube links takes me straight to the regular yt app instead of Vanced or the browser even after changing around the default settings
• I don't like how the volume buttons and power buttons are so close to each other and on the same side, I am always confused which button I'm clicking and have to always double check.
•Can't lock rotation in landscape (workaround is using the quick setting tiles app)
• can't go into specific app settings from the recent tabs either (Workaround, you just open up the multitasker, then you have to hold the app icon In the top left corner, super hidden but found it 😁)
• no offscreen gestures but doesn't matter too much
•No way to turn off honor virtual ram turbo (apparently not good for the storage, I don't need more than 12gb ram anyway)
• weak support for launchers, where switching between the launcher and the magic UI is clunky without the usual animations
• slow to switch between camera lenses with all the ois it's trying to do and sounds it's making.
6.8 inches size
EDIT GOOD Few months later:
Also, I found out that if you pull up the Google assistant when there's an image, and tap on search screen, it does exactly what Samsung s24 were advertising.
I found out that if you pull up the multitasker then long press the bin icon, you can go to thr uninstall page in settings. If you long press the app icon, it's takes you to the app settings, quite tough to findout.
With the new updates, video editing in the gallery has been greatly revamped, the camera UI is must more useful but could be a bit cleaner looking.
EDIT BAD Few months later:
• can't go below minimum brightness, when using the phone at night (please ADD extra dim feature in the eye comfort mode)
•when using app drawer, NO auto add app to home screen after downloading an app
• no double tap and empty part of the screen to turn off the screen (used this for 8+ years every day, so now I'm adjusting to using a screen lock widget instead)
•cant change icons, rename apps or remove names from apps for a clean look (I don't personally care, but this is for the sake of thoroughness)
•With/without app drawer enabled, when you hold an app on the home screen, Please add option to Uninstall the app, Rename the App or Go in to App Settings.
While using" tap to display AOD", After turning the screen off, the AOD is displayed for 5 seconds and turns the screen off which is very strange, I would like to turn this off.
PLEASE ADD long press or double tap Power button for camera. I already use double tap volume down for torch feature.
Please add NOTIFICATION HISTORY FEATURE!!!
PLEASE ADD double tap an empty part of the home screen to turn off the screen
On the AOD, after magic os 8 still I don't have the feature to display what music is currently playing.
I would like to see the addition of an object eraser in the gallery..
Putting the phone on silent or do not disturb should Automatically mute the media audio
In the camera app, When I toggle flash manually, take the photo and then close the camera app, the camera flash should reset to auto mode or off. but next time when I open the camera app, the camera flash is still turned on. PLEASE fix this!!!!!
On iPhone and other android phones - when using the timer in the camera, the flashlight will flash every second. This is not available on honor, PLEASE add this feature. The Timer should use the flash!
Screen calibration needs more customisation options, sometimes my screen feels more yellow compared to other smartphones.
Sometimes, When I pick up a phone call, the other person can't hear what I'm saying. Mic is turned on everything working but they can't hear me. I am forced to disconnect the call and call them back PLEASE fix this issue. I use Google dialer app but it's a problem in both dialers.
Tldr: i knew I'd love the speed. The battery is amazing but still a one day battery, camera is amazing and the main reason I bought this phone as I take alot alot of photos.
Last year November, there was no other phone with a sd 8gen2, crazy fast ufs4.0 with usb 3.1, 512gb storage, 3x50mp cameras and 100x zoom, face unlock etc etc, it was an absolute Bargain at £550.
After 5 years of Honor magic 5 pro, Would I do this again? I'm not sure simply because of meh Honor software, awful customisation and the software bugs Ive listed out. I am open to trying a Samsung or pixel or nothing phones tbh but I might come back after that.

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

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★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

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★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

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★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

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★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

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★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

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★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

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★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

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★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

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★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

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★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

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★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

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★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

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★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

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★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

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★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

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★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

⎯

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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.”