Let me tell you the tale of copy into
For those of you that don’t know this kind of command, COPY INTO, is a command that lets you unload data from snowflake to any external source and with a specified format, it also works in the other direction to load data.
Here is the documentation for the curious ones https://docs.snowflake.com/en/sql-reference/sql/copy-into-location
As all the talented data engineers on this subreddit we wanted to build an idempotent pipeline to export data so we decided to use the Overwrite option to… overwrite the data in case we have to re-run the process if there are some data quality issues for example.

COPY INTO 'gcs://mybucket/unload/my_file.csv' FROM mytable STORAGE_INTEGRATION = myintegration FILE_FORMAT = (FORMAT_NAME = my_csv_format) OVERWRITE = True; 

As the naming is fairly obvious and it looks really like the option I’m looking for I didn’t dig deeper in the documentation.
But a few days later we started having some issues, sometimes we had a bit too many rows, most of the time a few rows were fully duplicated, but never a lot, around 5% and not on every run… We tried to replicate it, but it was not always happening. And it was part of a more complex pipeline.
After investigating we were left with only two possibilities: either copy into doesn’t work (highly improbable) or we didn’t use the command well (weird because it didn’t look complicated). I decided to RTFM deeper.
After looking at File format features I started to dig on OVERWRITE

OVERWRITE = TRUE FALSE Boolean that specifies whether the COPY command overwrites existing files with matching names, if any, in the location where files are stored. 

Quite what you would expect from overwrite but wait.. there is more

The option does not remove any existing files that do not match the names of the files that the COPY command unloads. 

Hum…

In many cases, enabling this option helps prevent data duplication in the target stage when the same COPY INTO  statement is executed multiple times. However, when an unload operation writes multiple files to a stage, Snowflake appends a suffix that ensures each file name is unique across parallel execution threads (e.g. data_0_1_0). The number of parallel execution threads can vary between unload operations. If the files written by an unload operation do not have the same filenames as files written by a previous operation, SQL statements that include this copy option cannot replace the existing files, resulting in duplicate files. 

Oh… so if your process is using multiple threads (like you would expect in a data platform), multiple partitions are written and if between different runs the number of threads used changes it may not overwrite all your partitions.
In our case it was a single partition that was sometimes overwritten or not explaining the small row count difference we had.
But there is a solution offered,

To avoid data duplication in the target stage, we recommend setting the INCLUDE_QUERY_ID = TRUE copy option instead of OVERWRITE = TRUE and removing all data files in the target stage and path (or using a different path for each unload operation) between each unload job. 

I can think of 2 other solutions that could be also useful for different use cases:

1. include query_id name in each partition file, in our case we would have some duplicates but it would be a far easier bug to discover because it would be a full duplication of the data
2. use SINGLE=True to write the output to a single partition, works for a lot of cases, but not big data use cases
3. empty the folder before outputting to it using another tool

I hope it will help some data engineers to avoid this pitfall.
TLDR: Snowflake OVERWRITE option in COPY INTO should be named OPTIMISTIC_OVERWRITE, and I should have taken the time to read the doc.Let me tell you the tale of copy into

I'm looking for a song from a Bollywood movie I remember vividly in my head, but I cannot find any video or title that seems to be the "right one".
I remember it being a Bollywood movie from the 90s or the 2000s (at latest) - not sure if it stars SRK, but tbh, he's in everything back then. The scene where the song plays seems to show a group of people dancing (women in traditional sarees and men) in a public space. The scene cuts from them dancing to a bride with her father, the bride is in tears. After a while in the song the father removes the brides bindi (red streak on her forehead and on her hair) before she runs away. The singing gets "interruped" by her belting out a high note while running in her dress towards he dancing crowd, where she rejoices with her apparent lover (who wasnt her soon-to-be husband) and they continue the song with the bride included.

Please help. I’m new to Fresno. I’ve worn my nails very long (about two inches) for 15 years—I’m no noob. The first place I tried here was a nightmare.
I want a salon that does Gelx, understands careful removal and can handle long nails. I like to get a new set every 4 weeks—not a fill.
Here’s the long story:
For over a decade I did acrylics. The last few years I’ve been getting Gelx extensions, having the full set replaced every 4ish weeks. My last salon (in Oakland) carefully soaked and used the drill to remove them in a way that minimized damage to my natural nail. I prefer Gelx because they flex more when caught on something rather than snap. And with the way my previous salon was removing and replacing them, my natural nails were healthier than ever underneath.
Elegant Nail Spa in Fresno* butchered me. They assured me they could do Gelx extensions, on the phone and when I showed them my hands at arrival. After a pedicure service (Tiffany is great), I was moved over to the nail station. Dude soaked them a little and then ripped them off of my nails. He swore this was normal—I’ve seen salons between my regular for Gelx and no. The whole time telling me Gelx was stupid, weaker, harder to fill (I told him I do not fill them). Then when it was time to apply, he brought out a mix matched box of nails that a) didn’t have sizes to fit my fingers, b) didn’t have consistent lengths and c) were no where near long enough. I was told I had to do acrylic.
Fine, I said. I could take an acrylic set until I found a new salon. He then took a drill to my nails and brought them down to paper thin. A manager stopped by multiple times and asked him if he needed help handling such long nails. He insisted he didn’t despite making icicles of my nails with the acrylic and taking forever to file them back into shape. He also constantly told me that we should make them shorter. My finger tips were sore for days after the visit. I then shaped them some more myself because, again, icicles.
A voice was screaming at me to walk out of the salon during that appointment but I kept thinking — It’s just one set. There’s no way you’re walking into another salon and getting seen right now. It’s fine.
It was not fine.
They started lifting after about 4 days. But the big one: Two weeks later, today, I was lifting a blanket and my thumb nail snapped off revealing a good portion of the quick. I’m in pain, I’m unsure how to care for it, how to repair it, wtf to do, I’m crying like a baby from the stress of it all.
This has never happened to me in all my years of doing crazy shit with crazy long nails, and I’ve seen a million nail techs. Especially when I was consistently getting acrylics, my nail damage got rough sometimes. I did my own acrylics in the pandemic out of desperation. I’ve seen it all. In 15 years, I know how to treat my nails and how they should be treated.
Help me Fresno! Who knows the best salon?
*Middle aged dude. Slicked back hair, wore a wallet chain. Definitely had an emo phase in his past (no shame)—fuck that guy. Flip side: Tiffany at this salon gives a great pedicure.

The lotus leaf is listed as the greatest cleaning agent known to mankind in wikis and was the religious symbol of countless religions. when dirt is wet and becomes sticky mud it dries caked on and stuck and traps or allows for other air or splashes or spills to sort of stick. nanotech is so much smaller its like a big warehouse of crates having dust settle between them and by wiping and buffing and polishing around you remove some of the dirt hopefully most of it and get it underneath it will go right through and under about anything, got a tarpaulin or umm curtains over the window spray the curtains and unseen fine nanotech SHINES the window beautiful perfect coatings. the thin film is like nonstick frypan stuff but not the teflon stuff its safe diamonds arent teflon so the moisture and dirt wont stick as much and easily clean off or sorta slide down? nanotech like INKS and alcohol dyes (food coloring) or other paint pigment powders and !SOME! clearcoat polishes over a certain hardness rating which are safe for homes as under sapphire 9H or 10H it might be some sort of waste product cheap being sold as something like SCOTCH GUARD which may or may not have those long lasting microplastics which could be tiny serrated or jagged. If something is 9H or 10H diamond or sapphire hardness the few enamels or epoxys that bond that strong are small enough and dense that their structure is so tiny it slips through and under inside things and can reinforce them but doesnt damage round cells in organisms. the same way glass cleaner must be diluted and used everywhere as glass is porous and prehistoric volcanic obsidian glass walking spiders can walk up glass with special microhooks in their feet for the holes in glass look a bit like a golf ball dimples everywhere with tiny hole looks like hair lines through it like imagine those office ceiling panels with the holes in white particle board. So glass cleaner cleans out the gunk or else your windows will have a brownness you struggle to clean out of the glass without a deep penetrating cleaning agent that comes out looking a bit like brown river water thats discolored from the porous rocks in the water having umm tiny microorganisms yep rivers of brown. So a tiny drop of glass cleaner or a couple drops in a spray bottle or a bucket of water and maybe some one or two drops hydrophobic glass coating or quickpaint coat and a tiny drop or two or a single spray of PLASTIC AND LEATHER RESTORER
with these drops of stuff in water in a spray bottle or bucket you maybe wanna find something with a high % percentage of surfactants on the back of the detergent/soap bottle to wipe out germs and uhh its the cleaning component in all bubbling detergents the sort of science and cleaning and germ killing powers of it. Some floor cleaners made for timber floors that might be a little streaky and say like a polish or cure or something that maybe gives timber a little bit of a darker look when used regularly and appears subtly more expensive looking like hardwood but isnt carbonizing its a type of cellular structure bonding that reinforces not prehistoric torture the wood into looking blowtorched carbon stuff chemicals its a cleaning product disenfectant that protects and polishes but it needs some sprays of water then a spray or a few drops then buff it in and then dust mop it dry as its got some mild ANTISTATIC which helps lift up dust.. i found one that cleans like magic at my asian supermarkets but im not recommending specific brands over the other its the science of cleaning. then maybe put in a couple drops or up to a teaspoon of 10H hardness and like spray your laundry on the line or your carpet or whatever.. i do everything.. some products not 9H or greater will use some unsafe superglues which ignite cotton fabrics into flames or other things.. now house construction products like liquid nails brown glue for holding timber together might have a clear version called liquid glass that might be for window glazing or whatever i hadnt checked if its safe to use on fabrics and other surfaces the POINT of it is the NAME might say liquid glass but its maybe not silicon dioxide that the florist uses to keep their plants fresh for 2 weeks longer liquid glass as in THAT liquid glass like on your phones nanotech liquid screen protector you apply several coats of one each day then reapply every 8 months the cheap stuff.. some of the auto ones for cars can last 9 or 10 years. i found lots of bargain store looking products of sites like aliexpress or maybe amazon with brands like glassxkare or fantastic XML and adams polishes for tiny vials of 50ml or less of 10H hardness affordable or fantastic XML for like a big 500ML 9H hardness spray bottle that when sprayed into a spray bottle of water and glass cleaner and a drop of hydrophobic coating and plastic and leather restorer and a tiny drop of timber floor polish cleaner that may or may not make it a tiny bit streaky or splotchy the hydrophobic coatings may also be too hydrophobic you can tell if your spray bottle wont suck up water because the water cant enter the tube but if you spray a couple spray bottles of such tiny drops the nozzle will clog and not spray anymore.. nanocoatings can be tricky i dunno what to do. if its scratch protect films make it streaky and require buffing power tools and youre not loud big tools like me maybe aim it at carpets and couches rather than windows and do those without the floor polish. I've found no sort of uhh possible forseeable reasons for any health issues and my stuff looks and FEELS amazingly better, i think bathroom toilets or tiles or shower and tap fixtures or.. walls and floors and furniture and clothes.. i think id only not try spraying my drinking cups and cutlery but i honestly think i might need to drink the stuff its THAT GOOD. my cats LOVE IT! its kinda scary awesome.. i tried brands of plastic and leather restorer and quick paint coat and hydrophobic glass coating from HGKJ black and green labels. I couldnt tell you how safe it is, i just struggled as im a disability pensioner and saw our really old house falling apart and this damn near reversed a few decades off it and brand new snow clothing and jackets and throw rugs i bought felt BETTER THAN NEW i mean ridiculously better than new. ancient poisons used to clean HALF as good and were feared for being too good and too cheap. But diamonds and liquid diamond are naturally occuring hot springs reactions and the reason monkeys stay in there. its literally pretty much good for all life.
(plastic and leather restorer see leather deep conditioner but better and sorta similar to glass cleaner but a sort of UV protect oil and reinforce that adds the rich deep black color back to PU leathers and those vinyl anime girl figures yellowing from the sunlight and UV will becomes their original selves again or old yellowy car headlight covers get fixed up but so do most paints and timbers and other things. but you wanna seal it in with a nano coating when cleaning it out plastic and leather restorer is used in plastic manufacture and when you peel those clear plastic film stickers off shiny new products they help prevent its slow gradual evapouration and why they look so nice and black and arent just to prevent scratches. several days later plastic and leather restorers super shiny rich deep 'wet hair look for your black pleather chair' will seem to have worn off but its UV protect and other things will still be there and some polishes waxes or coatings can help keep it and its colors and UV protect there a bit longer well the look the restorer itself keeps it like how it was quite a while years? till it goes yellowy or faded again.)
So when we look at the water beading on lotus/lily pad leaves and things, ancient people used saps and old polishes and obsidian blades arrowheads since dinosaurs era. which with 200 times sharper than steel knives carbon nanotech its super dangerous deadly and was mostly all used up and we swapped it all out for modern glasses and glazing and safety glass so we dont slice our selves into piles of body parts on invisible pieces. Since the days of ink and whetstone nanotech advanced impossibly high particularly in volcanic hot springs countrys with samurai swords and caligraphy brush ink. Trying to find the scientifically safest and best possible cleaning products super affordably that might be useful for washing clothes, cars, metals plastics and other things.. are strangely not at the home hardware stores.. you see synthetic diamonds been on the gem market for centuries but too expensive to produce till modern different approaches with lasers and different gas precipitation with super high electricity concentrated over weeks or months or special electrolosys solutions will slowly layer and create diamonds but the diamond solution precipitated that grouped to each other or doesnt perfectly slot into the sort of tetris like bonds of the outer layers of the diamond a bit like diamond growth needs spaghetti O's and we're raining alphabet soup at it till with a bout 30% of the letters having a good chance of sticking. every few hours the solution of sublimation precipitate is swapped out creating a couple oven trays of 'liquid diamond solution' 10H hardness brightness and shines up glass with a thin film of diamond giving it moisture modest water resist we can use graphene to increase water resist and 10H+ hardness and apply hydrophobic coatings.. So who makes lots of these liquid finishes and what are they used for? Most are produced by a car race track owner who insists they protect their cars before taking them out onto the track or a speck of dirt or sand might scratch up the paint. But if i wanted to like power pressure washer spray it up onto my roof tiles and thin out some of that lichen and make them more uhh watertight leaks arent a concern but it might prevent a terrible future. anybody know why its not already a thing and there isnt countless guides on the ideal ratios and stuff? i mean its about as expensive as laundry detergent concentrate and used to be in most of those still is in some developed countries.. its what makes american movie sets look so umm bright and shiny and polished and awesome and makes mansions look like mansions or wealthy look and feel and its where LUXURY COMES FROM. is my cheap poor persons attempt at cleaning my own home not good? even if its mildly bad i think i'd use it forever. ESPECIALLY on things like 100% bamboo bed sheets i bought cheap ones from an australian online retailer and a few coatings of sprays and they felt and looked so dang shiny and awesome. Some bottles of the stuff claim 6 drops coats the car but remember many are diluted or not full strength or dont last long as advertised or a big bottle 500ML might be 3months to a year.. rather than tiny medicine bottle 50ml or 30ml sized 3-5 years most i guess, you need to keep applying a coat very often but having it not be streaky or buffing it in is tough so i maybe shaved years off its coating and thinned it out and just apply a bunch of coats as often product claims 9H its only a tiny % the whole spray bottle and needs many many applications to approach that but it is POSSIBLE theoretically. remember all glass cleaner is blue colored so when you dilute it with water you shouldnt have it fully color the water too much or its TOO STRONG. 80s people cleaned 80s glazing which maybe radium or lead tincture as radiation blocking films were often lead or radiation lined literally as a radiation shield was a.. film of radiation so it lasted years and needed double or triple glazing for expensive high rise buildings and cleaning heaps of smoky 80s glass dredged out horror mud floods of brown sludge that got them accused of dirtying things, though 80s squeegee thingys are really bad unless you reverse them and press down on a microfibre cloth with them for good even pressuer and a nice streak free clean using the back black rubber blade part to make a thin line of glass cleaning cloth good contact i previously saw reverse squeegee you mount cleaning cloths into specifically but searching i cant find to buy it when i tested it out at home with a squeegee that doesnt clip in like that. are there special tools you guys use? whats the secret? also the purple ceramic graphene ones seem awesome but maybe arent quite close to 9H either.. the bright shine of 10H or 10H+ on tiles and glass.. when apply hydrophobic it looks like zero application of anything somehow its gone for days. does anyone have a more ideal ratios specific or specific active ingredient amounts by weight or dilute with stuff that isnt water to help it keep its years of coating? does using a power washer make it not last? or last longer? or apply streaky splotchy? if its splotchy would more coats over weeks get it all consistent?
the liquid diamond stuff is in many countrys water or whatever.. but uhh concerns about silicosis maybe arent a thing at all if you cough it feels like its cleaning your lungs not harming them. Silicosis happens when criminal retards enter a sandblasting sealed room containment to steal the literally raw materials from factories or whatever or they use water cutting and sand blasting and CNC machines and sharpening blades constantly without sealed enclosure vacuum air scrubber filters. thats what wrecks those benchtop workers also they maybe mixing or breathing wrong epoxys and resins or dont seal them with the correct sealants and polishes and finishes.

Hello,
This is a throwaway account, not a big poster.
I'm currently going through the divorce process with my wife of 2 years and 7 months, but we have been together for 8 years. Living together for 6 years in various places.
We currently reside in Phoenix, Arizona. We do not have any minor children, and we do not have a covenant marriage.
Sort of a long rant, TLDR at the bottom. Relationship was great to start and we've known each other as good friends for about 5 years before we started dating.
I proposed, she said yes, we got married and we're taking on life.
I had some trouble staying positive throughout the relationship due to stress, money, and varying insecurities. My wife was helpful in keeping me grounded and straightening out my mind.
However, I kept falling back into the pattern and eventually it was too much for her around our 2nd anniversary. She began talking and flirting with another man as she mentally gave up on the relationship but kept it secret. She confessed that she was iffy about the marriage, but I had been making personal improvements over the last couple months to change my mindset and stay positive. This made her want to try and stay with me even though she had partially given up already. I found out that she was flirting with that other guy and was still continuing to talk to him even after she decided to stay with me. They weren't as flirtatious, but still in contact. I asked her to cut him off and she did for a time, but went back to talking to him anyways. After that, there was a long talk about our relationship and what we are doing.
We decided to keep at it and make it work. A few months go by and things went good, but my wife confessed that she still things about the other guy and the possible life with him.
I get upset and things take a bit of a turn for me mentally, but we still keep at it. A couple weeks later, I got upset over some of the stressors in our life and it was quite the mental breakdown. At that point, my wife said she couldn't take it anymore and had me leave the house to stay with my family.
She says she needs space and time to think while I cool off. So I agree and leave the house. I came back to the place the next day to grab a few more items as I don't know how long I was going to be gone. I then found evidence of her sexting the other guy with no restrictions or care that we were still in the relationship.
I talk to her about this and she says she wants a divorce. I'm upset because I thought we were going to work it out still, but she went behind my back and did this. So over the weekend we start the process, but after a long phone call with her I managed to get her to call off the divorce so we can work it out.
She stops talking to the other guy, and we try and get back into our flow. 2 months go by and I'm trying my absolute best to make it work, but my wife just didn't seem to try or want to make it work. Eventually I asked her to just tell me how she feels and she still wanted the divorce.
So I leave the house again, this time on the premise that it is truly for good.
I leave and not even 3 days later she is talking to the guy, going on dates with him, and basically replacing me with him.
I told her that she was going to have to file if she wanted the divorce as I STILL wanted to make it work. Some of you may think I'm crazy at this point, but I love the woman and I wanted to fix things.
It has now been 5 weeks since she said she was done and I left the house, but she hasn't started the divorce papers. She is however in a full public relationship with the new guy and has completely removed me from her life and won't even talk to me.
At this point, I've been doing inner work to come to terms with this whole situation and I'm going to file for divorce myself since she won't.
I'm wanting to resolve this amicably and we already have an understanding of the division of property with no issues on who is getting what.
Now for the real questions that I wanted to ask.
I'm currently filling out the eFile form provided from the State of Arizona and have reached the point regarding community/separate property, community/separate debt. I am wondering if I can just state that no community property/debt was acquired during our marriage to avoid listing all the stuff we already know goes where. Some of it was acquired before and some after, but to list each individual item we got seems like an awful lot of stuff to go over even though we already know who gets what. If I can state that no community property/debt was acquired, I feel like that would resolve this much more smoothly, but I don't know if that's what I can do. So can I? Or is it bad for the process to not list that property?
On a side note, am I going in the wrong direction when trying to resolve this without drama or anything even though my wife cheated on me and is having an affair while we are still married? Should I pursue for any spousal maintenance/alimony?
I just don't know if it would be worth the full trial. At this point, I'm better off without her and she can live her life as is. I'm working on accepting and letting go of my issues with how this whole thing played out. I want to be civil and end this chapter without causing drama. It's been tough though, as that small part of me wants to whip up a storm because I feel so wronged, but I know it's just not worth it and I'm getting caught in attachments.
Anyways, thanks for reading! Please give any advice you feel might be appropriate, I greatly appreciate it.
TLDR;
Arizona, no minor children, not a covenant marriage. Recently began the divorce process because my wife started cheating on me due to struggles in the relationship and giving up on making it work.
I want to solve this without drama and we have an amicable understanding of how things are splitting.
For the documents that I am filling out, do I need to list all the community/separate property and debt or can I state that none was acquired since we already have understood terms of how to divide things? In truth, it is me being lazy and not wanting to fish out all the information about each thing we are splitting as it seems like an overwhelming amount and I cannot financially afford help. So can I just list that none was acquired for both and just move on with the filing and getting the divorce over with?

TLDR:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ever since my work decided to put me on Artics full time I have been 50/50 with 12 hour days and I'm contracted to 48 hour weeks. I have asked before for overtime and was told "we don't do that". I am not entirely sure but I think I'm doing 5-6 hours OT per week. It's killing me I get so frustrated with the things they do to keep me out, today my area was 15-20 mile from the yard (the next city over) I'm about finished at 3pm when they decide I need to go collect a 300kg pallet 50 miles away. I leave work at 6:10pm after a 7am start. How do they even make money? The planners piss me off and just piss away diesel like its nothing, why do they do it? I've decided I will log my hours next week and then speak to my manager when I have solid evidence. I know I could use my card, but I've not been great with it (It's going to change now) I don't always input how long I worked after removing my card and I always enter 7am as start time even though its often 5-10min earlier and occasionally later. When they again turn around and say they don't pay OT what is my move? I was thinking of either refusing to work after I've calculated 48 hours of work and even warn them on the Thursday evening that I'll only be working so many hours tomorrow or maybe demand I finish at 5pm everyday and refuse to do anything that would obviously take me over that? Should I pursue it legally? Truth is I don't want the overtime its forced labour pretty much. I'm ready to get funny with them now I have a decent but of experience. Please share advice and or previous stories. Thanks.

As a "Wicked" fan, I was super excited when rumors of a movie adaptation began circulating.
Personally, I would have loved to see a professionally shot version of the stage show, maybe not with Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth since they’ve aged out of the roles. But it would have been perfect to see actresses who have brought these characters to life on Broadway.
When I learned Ariana Grande was cast as Glinda, my excitement waned, and I began to worry. It’s not that I doubt her singing—I'm sure with some work, she can nail the Broadway style since her version of "The wizard and I" in the 15th Wicked anniversary was good but left much to be desired in terms of performance compared to a lot of Elphabas. But her acting? That's what worries me. Fans often point out that she was a Broadway actress, but there's a significant difference between a former Broadway child actress and the quality and consistency an adult actor can deliver.
The trailer only made my worries worse. It seems she cannot act. I'm begging for Ariana to prove me wrong and her acting will be much better in the context of the full movie, even if she does seem to be mimicking Kristin Chenoweth's voice instead of creating her own take on Glinda, it would be more acceptable if her acting were convincing.
Then there’s the makeup, hair and eyebrows. She doesn’t disappear into the role at all, which just highlights how odd she looks in the promotional photos and the trailer footage. It’s almost laughable and cringeworthy. You can tell acting doesn’t come naturally to her anymore, especially after not having an acting career for so long. Her role in "Don't Look Up" wasn’t as bad as what I’m seeing here. And the way she talks about her approach to the role comes off as so pretentious without the results to back up the attitude, like she thinks she’s will be a super sophisticated actress if she talks of how much she tried to deconstruct herself to just have Glinda on the screen for us. I just don't see it.
I really hope I’m wrong because I love "Wicked" so much. I don’t want it to be a disappointment.
I would love to hear more from Wicked fans or just people who have enjoyed the musical before.

Hello everyone, I hope you are doing well!
Recently I commented under a post about tips and tricks to improve physical appearance and it seems that a few people liked my advice, so I figured I could transform that one comment into a whole post so more people can have access to it.
I am a 26 year old Southern European girly, I have learned a few things here and there that I would I like to share with you. This is by no means a step by step guide, but rather a helping hand that can provide some support or advice. This is for everyone, younger girls and older girls, from everywhere and all walks of life. Take from this post what works for you, and leave the rest.
Small disclaimer, these are tips and tricks that have personally worked for me. I don't believe there is one way to look or feel good, rather this is more for girlies who feel a bit lost style wise and need some minor guidance. My focus is more on healthy rather than pretty, since I do believe that if you feel good on the inside, you will also feel good on the outside.
Enjoy, and please do let me know if you need any more specific advice/tips, I am happy to help!
***

Face

• Skin: Keep it simple, keep it consistent, keep it adapted to your skin needs. Consult with a dermatologist or just do your own research at home (that's what I did!). It took me a while to figure out the products that work for me and the routine. I won't recommend any specific products because each product works very differently. What works for me might not work for you even if we have the same skin type/concerns. My main issues are the occasional spot, big pores and dull skin.
  • Night Time: I do a double cleanse at night (oil followed by water cleanser), use retinol, and moisturiser. Vaseline is a game changer if you have any dry or irritations spots on your face. My under eye area is very sensitive and irritates easily with products, and Vaseline is the only thing that works. Also apply Vaseline on your lips before bedtime, you will have the softest lips when you wake up.
  • Morning Time: I don't cleanse my face in the morning because otherwise it would get very dry. I wash with cold water, then Vitamin C serum, moisturizer (I love the Roche Posay Cicaplast Baume), and a generous amount of SPF.
  • One thing I recommend a lot, is that if a product works well on your skin, you should stop using it after a few months to make sure your face doesn't get used it and decreases its efficiency. I rotate between 2-3 products, and switch them whenever I finish a product.

​

• Teeth: Brush twice a day and floss daily. Trust me on this. Flossing is a game changer to make your teeth healthier and whiter. I won't recommend any whitening products because I don't use them as my teeth are very sensitive. But if possible try to schedule an appointment with an hygienist once a year to get your teeth cleaned and remove any buildup. This is super important. And remember that healthy teeth >>> white teeth.

​

• Eyes/Eyebrow
  • If you want to add an extra step to your routine, I recommend getting a lashlift, it lasts around 8 weeks, looks very natural and elegant, and make your eyes pop. You have smaller eyes (like I do), I really recommend this. You can also ask to do a lash tint so your lashes appear even longer. When you do go to a salon do make sure that it has good reviews (ie hygiene), and also make sure that they test all the products on your hand beforehand, so you don't have an allergic reaction in your eyes.
  • Getting your eyebrows done is definitely a game changer. I don't do any permanent or semi permanent treatments, other than getting my brows professionally plucked. I like

​

• Makeup: I like simple makeup (with the main reason being that I don't know how to do more complicated makeup). The good thing about simple makeup is that everyone looks good with it, and really gives you a confidence boost. I use a skin tint (MAC has a nice one, and Maybelline too) that gives the skin a bit of a glow with some concealer under the eyes and to hide spots. I like adding bit of blush (Rare Beauty is quite nice), some mascara, a bit of eyebrow gel (from Benefit Cosmetics), and a clear lip oil (I really like the Clarins one).
  • If I am going out, I do the same routine but I make it more intense. For example, I use a darker blush on my cheeks (MAC Swiss Chocolate), a dark brown lip liner as lipstick with the lip oil, and I also use a bit of shimmer on my eyelids to make them pop (I have very dark brown eyes). I will also use a setting spray in between steps along with setting powder to make it last longer.

Body

• Regarding getting fit, there is no easy way out. It will take months of consistently working out and following specific food regimens. If you can, I would advise getting a personal trainenutritionist to at least get you started on a meal and exercise plan. Having a healthy, and strong body will make you feel so confident and good.
• I would recommend getting a blood test to check on your vitals and make sure you don't have any deficiencies (regarding vitamins or hormones). Taking supplements can really boost your energy and improve your health. Magnesium with Vitamin D is great and has a lot of benefits, but please check with a doctor first.
• Some things help a lot with body confidence like getting your nails done (hands and feet!). Trust me. Get a simple semi permanent gel polish in milky white on both your hands and feet, it looks super natural, lasts for weeks, and makes your hands and feet look amazing and fresh.
• Body care: I recommend using a body brush when you shower, it will make your skin feel really smooth, and you suffer from body acne it will help. Tip: don't keep in the shower and clean your brush regularly, so bacteria doesn't accumulate, and cause issues. After the shower, I like using the Ordinary Glycolic Acid toner on my body, followed by a body oil (I recommend Bio Oil). It makes my skin look amazing, soft and minimises stretch marks, scars and hyperpigmentation. When I go out, I like using Nuxe Or to make things a bit more extra. I like being shiny. I also like using a body moisturiser on my elbows, feet, knees where the skin can get a bit more dry.
• For hair removal, I get laser done since it's quite cheap where I'm from. We Southern Europeans are very very very hairy. It honestly has been a game changer. I know it's not available to a lot of people but it's something that does work really well, specially if you have fair skin and dark hair.

Hair

• I have wavy hair, so this advice will not be useful to a lot of people. I thing hair with layers looks great, and I have my hair cut with long bangs and layers since I was 15 years old. I recently got a bit chop, right above my shoulders and I am embracing my natural hair colour. I kept the layers and I think it makes easy to style and maintain.
• I recommend getting a haircut every 3 months, just the tips to keep it healthy. I also use Argan oil on my hair tips, and rosemary water on my scalp before I wash it. My washing routine is very standard otherwise with a shampoo that focused on scalp care. I do a hair mask once a week, and don't use any conditioner because it doesn't work for me at all.
• I don't use any heat except hairdryer. If I want to give it a bit of more volume I use a round brush and some curling rolls to style it and make my waves more... wavy I suppose.

Style

• Find clothes that fit you well, and more importantly that you feel confident in. You don't need to wait until you have your 'perfect' body. Get clothes that suit your body type, your complexion. There are some threads on Reddit that I think can help with that.
• I like going on Pinterest and look for outfit inspiration. I also follow a few instagram accounts that focus on creating different outfits, and they even link the items. I use this less to buy new things but more to see if I can use items I already own and style them differently.
• I am very much a basics girl, I think nothing looks better than a well fitting blouse/top with straight jeans and either sneakers/ankle boots. T-shirt/jeans combo is honestly a classic that looks good on everyone as long as the clothes fit well. I don't usually follow a lot of trends because they don't really work for me. I think it's important to keep basics in your closet that will always be in style. Think basic t-shirts, long and short sleeved (in white, black, grey), some form fitting, other loose. Get some straight jeans in different washes. You can create so many different outfits, and it works for both the day and night time. When I go out for drinks, I use a white tight t-shirt and some dark blue jeans with ankle boots. It's simple but it works! Trust me ;)
• Jewellery: I re-use the same jewellery every day. And if you want to start wearing more, try getting some good quality but affordable pieces that always look good and you can use during the day and night. Think some small silver hoops, or gold, maybe a small ear cuff, and a simple necklace. I like using rings on my index fingers, they are quite simple, but look elegant, specially with the milky white nails.

Hope this helps! I might add some edits here and there as I remember more things!

Hello! I'm in need of some help with my Piaggio Ciao. It has not been used for approximately 15-20 years until recently and I'm having some issues getting it to run properly.
The issue I'm having is that the engine starts but then stops running after a few minutes and becomes impossible to restart.
What I've done so far is that I have taken apart and thoroughly cleaned the carburetor with an ultrasonic cleaner and replaced all the gaskets, as well as the air filter, fuel filter and jet.
I've previously also (among many other things) replaced a broken fuel valve and leaking fuel hose, replaced the spark plug (B5HS with 0.5 mm gap), the ignition coil and the condenser because I had problems with the ignition system.
Today, after another round of cleaning the carburetor I managed to get it running for long enough that I was able to go for a ride, and I noticed then that an air bubble formed at the top of the fuel line. I thought it was because I was running out of fuel so I went home but it turns out that the tank was full. I have actually noticed this before, and it seems that the carburetor doesn't replenish the fuel after a while...?
I have checked the float and float valve, as well as the vent line in the carburetor, but they appear to be working fine. It also didn't make a difference when I remove the fuel cap so it doesn't seem to be an issue with tank venting. When I remove the fuel hose and check the fuel valve, it works fine too. Any suggestions, or should I just check the float valve again?

Part 1
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.

Chapter 21:【Tales of Fire and Ice】
“Well, well well!” Crowley triumphantly announced. “Wu Zeitan has stolen Tsukuyomi’s precious scabbard and thus made him very angry! Will he get it back? Will he win? Will the fight turn out to be rigged in order to sell Tsukuyomi-themed peanut butter? All those questions will be answered!”
Upon seeing the enraged countenance of the young god on the battlefield, the King of Demons grasped his chin in thought silently, before pondering to himself with a smirk, “…Who would have thought that gods could be so attached to toys that aren’t made of flesh?”
“Oh my Nun!” Thoth gasped. “It’s beautiful! I wish I could get a closer look!”
“Ahh.” Crowley sighed. “Nothing like some good old-fashioned Grand Larceny.”
“That damn brat!” Izanagi snarled. “How dare she lay her hands on a divine treasure!” Amaterasu just watched, her smile looking almost amused.
Standing on guard nearby them was a goddess with short brownish hair and an oni mask covering her mouth, lightly armored over her kimono, an equally ornate scabbard at her hip. She put a hand to her waist and looked towards the arena in slight annoyance.
“Jeez, at least treat it with some proper respect…” she muttered, her tone sharp and irritated.
Catching the reflection of light, the sheath was subliminally visible to the entire world. It shone brighter than any platinum, encapsulated by the shadows created by the engraved design on the sheath. Holding it high above her, Wu smiled gently, like a flower amidst blossoming.
On the other side, the emperors of China fumed in various degrees of shock to apprehension.
“That girl! She’s always so materialistic!” Emperor Gaozong scolded, his knuckles white as he clutched the arms of his throne. Meanwhile, his son was almost folded entirely against the short wall between the arena and the stands, looking almost hysterical. Qin Shi Huang himself housed a frown upon his face, his brows slightly scrunched in scrutiny. Dionysus smiled almost knowingly, swirling his wine in his glass as he waited…
Distances away from the distracted empress, the young god let out a final shaking breath. He knew there would be whispers in the audience all around the castle, coming down to berate him, to affront him, to criticize him.
He refused to listen. Instead, he looked forward and sternly demanded, “Give it back! You have no right to—”
The words of the young god woke Wu from her trance and her hands snapped at the young god with such speed that it was shocking she didn’t break her own neck. Zetian rushed towards Tsukuyomi, forcing the disarmed god to instinctively take a defensive stance.
“Hahaha! I’ll beat you to death with this beauty!” The Empress proclaimed, before she swung the scabbard at Tsukuyomi’s head, forcing him to dodge to the side, at which point she delivered another, even faster strike at his waist. The sheer force of the attack knocked the god to the ground, unable to recover..
Or so she thought, before jutting her head backwards to dodge out of the way of Tsukuyomi’s roundhouse kick. “I was given more methods to defend myself than just a sword!” The moon god shouted, as his father’s words echoed in his mind:
‘What if you were to be disarmed? Do not solely rely on your weapons. Make your body itself a deadly blade.’
It was hard for him to adjust to the new style of combat…he could not rely on his innate gifts to help him. Tsukuyomi gritted his teeth, and pressed forward to master his parents’ teachings. His mother had taught him how to harness the flow of power in all things, and his father had taught him the relentless, graceful martial techniques of the angels. And now, he pressed onward, striking with both in tandem. Flowing, ferocious strikes rained down, each strike leading into another, each shift of Tsukuyomi’s feet, another barrage. The rapid offense forced Zetian to put up her guard, an amused grin on her face.
“So you want to try and beat me at my own game, eh?~ Hahaha! Bring it on then, you arrogant little shit!”
“Out of all of our glorious father’s offsprings, Tsukuyomi may well be the best when it comes to hand to hand combat.” Metatron proclaimed from the stands, earning a glorious nod from Michael. A slight, nervous-sounding giggle was heard from next to Lucifer, coming from a goddess in a white and gold kimono- she’d dressed as well as possible for this match.
“Haha…he really is. Both me and your father can attest to that. He’s always worked especially hard on it and his swordsmanship…I’m proud of him.” Izanami said. A soft smile was on her face, clearly more confident than usual as she watched her son fighting in the arena.
Lucifer breathed a deep sigh next to them, gaze glued to his son. “If only Tsukuyomi understood that himself. He focuses so much on what he can’t do that he overlooks what he can…”
Back in the arena, Tsukuyomi dropped low and dragged his foot, attempting to sweep out Wu’s legs from his position. However, the Empress jumped away laughing, having the time of her life. “Hahaha! So fun!” She spun the scabbard in her hand, taunting the moon god further with its presence.
Tsukuyomi looked more determined than ever, raising his eyes from the ground. “I can do this…”
“I can reclaim it,” his conviction echoed. However, mired with the light that shone from the gluttonous eyes of the Empress who had claimed his scabbard, he had forgotten the true purpose of their showdown. A corner of Wu's lips twitched.
Tsukuyomi jumped to his feet and charged to grapple her, opening his arms wide.
“Kyaa!” She yelped, causing several members of the audience to gape in shock. “The pervert is trying to grope me!”
The moon god’s face tinged red. “N-no, I-” He started, abashed. Sensing the release of tension in the god’s arms, Wu struck.
“Just kidding~ You’re mine!” Wu grinned as she bashed the god’s face in with his scabbard, several teeth flying out of his mouth joined with spots of blood. As his senses were clouded, the empress wound her legs back, and sent her powerful knee toward the god’s defenseless stomach. At the last second, Tsukuyomi raised his forearm to block the strike, while his opponent drew distance between them with the tap of her boots as her feet met with the ground.
“E-eh…?!” Izanami stammered, clearly caught off guard and very much concerned. She blinked a couple of times as if trying to process what she had just seen.
Dionysus gorged himself on another glass of crimson wine before letting out a childlike giggle. “Ahh~ Such an intimate fight~ My favorite~ They only lack oil on their bodies~”
Qin Shi Huang raised an eyebrow at him. “This isn’t that sort of fight. But you would wish it was, wouldn’t you?”
“Let's play some more!” Wu exclaimed to the heavens, before rushing at Tsukuyomi with her heart aflame.
The moon god was still flustered. “Is.. is this just a game for you?” Then, his face hardened. “I suppose that's better for me then…”
His life flashed before him as his precious sheath ripped through the air towards his face. The wild empress swang it with an unparalleled, furious desire. Tsukuyomi brought his palm up and directed the blow above him, before he swung his left arm upwards, with the momentum gained- towards the side of Zetian’s disabled arm. His strike landed square on the empress’ jaw; causing her to rip her arm back up and hit Tsukuyomi with utterly explosive force, a force that was much to her surprise, only able to knock him a couple of feet away. Tsukuyomi shoved her back into a clumsy stumble as she looked down at her arm with utter shock. The arm that had performed the whip-like strike had been cleanly dislocated, and despite Zetian’s martial prowess and strength, it wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. This was Tsukuyomi’s chance.
‘No matter how much you dull the pain you receive, you’re still no more durable than usual. You can trick your brain, but not your body…’ A sense of confidence captured Tsukuyomi’s mind for a fraction of a second, before he became focused once more. While Wu stared at her arm with a blank yet curious look, Tsukuyomi jumped forward and brought his hands to the sheath. She snapped out of her dazed state and attempted to grip it further, but the young god did something unexpected.
His hand went to the opening of the sheath, and from it, he drew a pearlescent blade of light into his hands.
“I swear, everyone gets an infinite sword generator nowadays!” Crowley mused.
Izanami smiled, watching her son go back on the offensive. “Umm…You’ve got this! Don’t back down!”
Pushing his leg back and raising the blade, Tsukuyomi then launched himself towards the retreating Wu and sliced down at the remains of her garment with chilling precision. Occasional blows would tear at her flesh and freeze the blood into crystals of dreadful gore. Her movements remained unsteady due to his earlier dazing strike- and Tsukuyomi took full advantage, slashing rapidly with his blade of light. His attacks were precise, intended to land as many blows as possible while Wu’s defenses were staggered, targeting the areas where she was faltering the most.
‘This is going somewhat well, but to think I would fight this sloppily…’ Tsukuyomi chastised himself internally, his sorrowful demeanor resurging. He wanted to end the fight as soon as possible. And he seized the chance to do it at this very moment, he circled behind Wu and brought his foot round to Wu’s hip with melancholy vigor, knocking the empress to her knees, before using his momentum and full strength to swing his blade towards her exposed neck. But just in time, Wu fully recovered from her daze and hastily moved the sheath to stop her foe’s blade. Sparks flashed as Tsukuyomi’s arms trembled. Through the cool air, there was a small noise that resounded, a very distinct crack. As Tsukuyomi gazed up at the place where their blows met, his eyes blew wide with realization.
Where the wings of an Angel were engraved on the sheath, a light fracture began to emerge upon their midline. Sparks fell to the ground in mourning as a burst of emotion encompassed Tsukuyomi’s mind. His vision tunneled, staring solely at that fracture in horror. A shaky breath escaped him. ‘No, no! Father!’ He wished to turn to look through the castle windows at his father at this moment, but he could not let himself move. ‘I’m sorry…! I didn’t mean to—’
A sudden movement caught his eyes, and before he could resolve himself from his uncontrolled horror, Zetian struck at him ferociously. Spinning around as she rose to her feet, her arm arced towards him in a motion new to all in the arena, herself included- a newly created weapon of carnage. Her demonic eyes saw all of the world around her and how it could break, and her body itched to utterly crush it, her bones and muscles moving on their own. Zetian’s enhanced mind and ruthless battle instinct had combined in a stroke of sudden martial genius. The only thing left to do was to swing the weapon that they had given her. The Empress let out a battle cry to the heavens as Tsukuyomi attempted to retreat away, still looking at the cracks of the sheath as he raised his guard. And in that moment…the arm Tsukuyomi had thought unusable swung upwards at him, almost like a life-reaping sickle of flesh and blood, slicing through the air audibly and slipping right past his guard. The god of the moon gasped as his opponent grinned savagely.
WHITE TIGER’S ASSAULT
He tried to dodge backward- to block would be too risky. But even that wasn’t enough. Four claw marks tore Tsukuyomi’s clothes into pieces as they slashed into his chest and stomach, causing the moon god to cry out in shocked agony. Droplets of blood flew towards the face of the deranged mortal, which she licked from her cheek with a gleeful smile.
“Oh my!” Thoth gasped. “Zetian has unleashed a truly horrifying technique!”
The Wine God of Greece spoke out above the confused outrage, “How fancy~! It must have been the wind~ She attacked with such a concentrated force that the air itself sliced into Tsu-chan~ You can even see the cuts on the castle walls”
“Tsukuyomi!” cried out Izanami. Her eyes were wide and panicked. She took a deep breath and clutched the sides of her chair tightly, trembling for a moment.
Tsukuyomi cringed in pain as he looked back towards the horrible, blood-soaked beast before him. Its crimson eyes bore into his soul. “My my~ Perhaps I misjudged you.” It said mockingly as it turned off Demon Mind. “You are quite the skilled fighter yourself. Did your daddy teach you that as well?~”
The capricious mockery echoed throughout Tsukuyomi's very being. His bones recoiled in distress and his blood boiled. Yet his mind remained still. Was it enlightenment? Had he realized something? What had the young god come to understand?
Deep in the wilderness of Helheim…
Since his first venture into the underworld, it was clear to all that Tsukuyomi’s skills had truly blossomed. His blade’s movements were graceful, precise, and true, and the hazy light reflected off it had become just as elegant. Dim yet brilliant, shining gentle within each skillful strike. That was the beauty Tsukuyomi’s blade had achieved.
Yet today, the god of the moon saw no beauty in the light he had honed.
Below him lay a lifeless oni of Helheim, a great and feared devil, but to Tsukuyomi, little more than a milestone in his training. And now, yet another reason for him to be ashamed. Severe, deep, and decidedly inelegant gashes surrounded by ice covered the oni’s corpse, his face frozen forever in a twisted howl of agony. He had died with his eyes open. However, there was a twisted artistry to the slashes that had ended him- the crescent smoothness of those brutal slashes, the way they flowed into and around each other, visible even after the slaughter, had bloomed into a beautiful pattern of icy carnage.
This was what Tsukuyomi had trained for. This was the mastery he wanted to attain.
After all, he had finally managed to properly channel his light.
It was a moment he would remember forever. The moonlight had seared itself into his mind. The writhing, dying screams of the oni, the crackling of flesh, and the hollow sound of his blade striking true. When that massive, once-mighty corpse fell to the ground, his battle-tested club clattering to the ground beside him, Tsukuyomi only felt a rush of relief. Where had the adrenaline of victory gone? Had this been a battle, or an execution?
Tsukuyomi took a few deep breaths and sheathed his sword with a trembling arm, nearly cutting himself by accident, as if he couldn’t stand to look at it or away from the corpse. The reality that it was a weapon of war and not art was sobering. But this was his fault. Neither the blade or the light were stained with blood, rather, it was he who wielded them. He had destroyed instead of protecting, and caused another to die in agony. He had broken his promise, and over something as pitiful as his lack of mastery. For the first time in years, Tsukuyomi’s gentle heart began to ache and waver.
He buried the oni with his club before returning home.
The next day…
The winds of the mountaintop felt harsher than usual, howling like the wails of the damned. But Tsukuyomi simply ignored them. Again and again, without a moment of pause, he swung his radiant sword. The same combinations, the same movements, the same strikes, over and over, with moonlight coursing through each maddening repetition. His usual resolve had given way to almost manic determination. Izanami watched him silently. She had noticed the strange look in his eyes as soon as he’d returned from his battle, but trusting her son, had decided to give him some space to think. Perhaps he’d find some clarity during the day’s training.
Clarity, however, seemed farther away with each swing. Tsukuyomi’s eyes were almost bloodshot. He’d been training for hours before the break of dawn. Everything had melted away long ago, save for the blade and the reason he was swinging it. His own pure and immutable inadequacy. Even keeping a single promise was too much for him, something as simple as fighting to protect. His heart felt like it was about to burst. He couldn’t look away from his task. The oni’s body wouldn’t fade even if he did. He had to do this.
Especially since his father would be visiting later.
He continued to swing the sword. More light began to flow into it.
“I have to master myself.”
The howling wind, Izanami’s words, his own thoughts, they all became unclear white noise, the world drowning in the shine of his blade.
“Master myself.”
His eyes narrowed. He was fully focused. He started to swing faster, brighter. Ice was beginning to spread across his arm, but it didn’t slow him down for a moment.
“Come on. Master yourself.”
He swung the sword again and again. More ice crept through his arm. His sword was beginning to crack and shake. He wouldn’t stop.
“Master yourself, damnit!”
Even his own movements became nothingness to him. He didn’t notice the blinding white light forming around him, or the crystals that already coated his body, or the sword shattering into pieces, flying by and slicing him. It didn’t feel cold at all. It didn’t hurt. He didn’t hear Izanami crying out for him to stop.
“MASTER YOURSELF!”
And then, the world became white and radiant.
Since the beginning of creation, there had never been a moon in Helheim’s sky. The strange, eerie lights in the blood-red sky simply turned to darkness as the hours passed, with no true light ever coming in. That was the law of the realm itself.
But on this day, for ten shining, frightening minutes, moonlight shone down on the underworld.
It was nothing less than a light of calamity. A star of pure, radiant white hung in the sky, erratically, harshly forcing itself into a new form every moment, thrashing violently in the darkness. It was a crescent one moment, a shining fragment the next, and a full orb of deathly light immediately after. An unstable and beautiful calamity. With each sudden shift, wrathful moonlight rained upon the land. The howling tears of the moon fell to and razed the earth in a rain of disaster. Mountains, plains, forests, all were swallowed by that white and chaotic light. It was as if the heavens themselves were punishing the underworld.
This was the chaos that lay within an angel’s light. The light Tsukuyomi had so desperately wished for back then, and yet, hadn’t even begun to fathom. The light he had gained from his father. That sacred light, his greatest desire, was just the same as his blade: all his mastery and divinity given form, a beautiful, graceful, and glorious weapon of ruin.
It was a light that could never truly protect.
Those ten minutes of devastation eventually passed. The moon vanished, and Helheim’s sky returned to its natural gloom. Yet a single shining light remained within it. It slowly floated to the ground, almost gently so, and landed in front of Izanami’s surprisingly unharmed abode. She was waiting in the garden. Lucifer looked up towards her, as she immediately fell to her knees in front of him, tears in her eyes. His eyes twisted ever so slightly in guilt. She had been burned by light, his light, clearly after a struggle. She had done all she could to help.
“I’m sorry…I…I really tried, I shouldn’t have…and even you got hurt…”
Lucifer shook his head, unbothered by the frostbitten wounds on his scarred body. He hadn’t used his radiant armor for even a second, much less his weapon. He put a hand on Izanami’s head to calm her, as he had many times before.
“...Don’t worry about it. It can hardly be called an injury. And I couldn’t risk harming our son.”
The gentle coolness of his voice and the warmth of his hand slowly brought Izanami back to reality. She took a few deep breaths, before taking Tsukuyomi from Lucifer’s other arm. His body had no wounds, but he was clearly close to death, pale and haggard, as if drained of all light. The young god had utterly broken himself under his own light. Izanami almost sobbed looking at him. While Lucifer’s face remained mostly still, as he closed his eyes, the ruler of heaven felt the familiar, ever-present weight of utmost guilt…along with a slight tinge of fear.
Even now, millenia after the fall, with his supreme divine power and command over all of heaven, the greatest of angels still couldn’t protect a single boy. Those he loved and couldn’t save were still falling through the cracks, just as they had back then. It still wasn’t enough.
His, too, was a light that could never truly protect.
“...Take him inside, please. I’ll join you two in a moment.” Lucifer said. He gazed forlornly from the mountain’s edge, quietly observing the destruction his son had wrought upon Helheim. Izanami simply nodded and did as he asked. Right now was one of those moments when Lucifer needed to think alone. Lucifer turned his head briefly, and gave an almost regretful glance towards Tsukuyomi as he vanished behind the front door. It was in that moment that the mightiest among divinities offered a silent prayer for forgiveness.
“You haven’t failed, Tsukuyomi… You never did... As a father, a mentor, and a god…I’m the one who has failed you. The shame of weakness is mine alone to bear.”
He took a slight breath, and turned to join his family inside.
“I’m sorry for always being such a coward. I hope…that this serves as even the smallest compensation.”
Fastened at his hip was a beautiful sheath, adorned with two angelic wings and a jewel that glimmered like the moon.

DC Next Proudly Presents:

The Linear Men

Issue Twenty:Family Reunion
Written by Dwright5252
Edited by Predaplant

< Prev. Next Issue > Coming Next Month


The Waverider
When she was growing up, Deirdre Harkness often thought about how things might’ve been different in her household if she had an older brother to take the brunt of her father’s attention. How her path through life could have been vastly different, her rap sheet a little more… non-existent.
Now that such a brother seemingly existed, albeit from another Earth altogether, she was starting to realize that maybe she was fine being an only child.
“Listen, this’ll go a lot faster if you stop being so obtuse, Deirdre,” Owen Mercer scowled, twirling one of his razor-sharp boomerangs deftly between his fingers as he paced the deck of the Waverider. Deirdre sat in the hot seat, the Linear Men staring at her on one side while her current and former romantic partners stood on the other. The multiversal children of Digger Harkness faced off in the middle, neither seeming to want to give any inch in their argument.
“Look, I’m just sayin’ I’d be able to find my friends better without some drongo stealing my schtick,” she responded casually, moving to take a boomerang of her own from her bandolier before remembering the new time cops had confiscated all her weapons. “Surely Jenny Sparks has someone better to send along.”
Was she being difficult? Absolutely. Was this petty argument preventing her from saving her missing teammates? Undoubtedly.
Did she want to take this pretender down a peg? You know it.
“Perhaps we can arrive at some kind of accord, beloved,” Ystin interjected, placing a hand on Deirdre’s shoulder. “I understand how jarring seeing this knave must be, but our comrades in arms are lost to time. Other priorities must take precedence.”
Sighing deeply, Deirdre fell back into the chair behind her, irked that this modified timeline removed all the progress she’d made in molding the chair to fit her form. She could see Liri wince at the force she had used to enter the chair, and felt a little bad about that.
God, she could be selfish sometimes.
“Fine. Fine, I’ll be a good sheila now. What is your plan, oh fearless brother o’ mine?” She felt the tension in the room let up slightly, and Ystin gave her a grateful smile.
Owen pulled out another boomerang of his and started pressing the buttons on it. A projection appeared, seemingly the timeline they were currently in. Biting back her instincts to make fun of her brother’s projecto-rang, she sat back and listened as he began to point at the timeline. “As you can see, this is the current stream that we’re in. You can see these discolorations,” he explained, pointing at the shades of red appearing in the mostly blue timeline, “that indicate the anomalies you’re normally after. Sure, they aren’t the best thing to have appear, but it’s within the Time Masters’ range of acceptable aberrations. From what Deirdre is saying, the kind of anomaly we’re looking for with this situation, with one team seemingly erased from time and another fully resurrected, should be lighting this up like a Christmas tree. That massive of a ripple effect from those changes would unmoor us into the Bleed, never to return.”
“But we’re clearly still here,” Rip Hunter said, scowling. “So you’re saying she’s full of it.”
“Not necessarily,” Owen replied, and Deirdre felt a slight pang in her chest as her brother came to her defense. He dialed in another setting and another hologram appeared, this time showing various circles floating around the timestream. “What do you know about time bubbles?”
Michael raised his hand, ever the teacher’s pet, apparently. “They’re basically pocket dimensions separated out from the timestream. The Time Masters use them sometimes to isolate threats to the stream or conduct experiments.”
“Gold star to you,” Owen said, and Deirdre rolled her eyes as Michael beamed. She missed Booster so much. “Yes, exactly that. So let’s say that these bubbles,” he circled a majority of them, “were made and accounted for. We’re left with a good dozen unsanctioned by the Time Masters.”
Deirdre’s hopes started to pick up before Rip dashed them. “But that’s also within parameters for a timestream. Nature abhors a vacuum and makes time bubbles naturally to fill in any blank spaces that appear. You’re grasping at straws.”
Owen turned toward the captain of the Waverider. “I’m sorry, did you want to run this presentation? I can go back to the Authority and leave y’all to your issues if you want.”
Before Rip could respond, Liri stepped in. “Rip, let the poor boy explain. You’re being an asshole.”
Deirdre blinked, surprised at Liri’s interjection. The AI she knew would never put the captain in his place like that. And even more shocking, she saw Rip pull back and motion for Owen to continue, clearly chastened by his crewmate.
Miracles did happen.
“You’re correct, the other bubbles not highlighted are indeed naturally occurring.” Owen pointed at them and expanded them. “But someone with enough access and know-how can commandeer these time bubbles and manipulate them for their own uses.”
Matthew Rider raised his hand. “So you’re saying our missing people could be inside these bubbles? But what about the damage to the timeline from removing them in the first place?”
“Good question. Like I said, this level of fuckery to the order of things should’ve made things completely unravel. That being said, it is possible for someone with a high degree of chronal knowledge and access to do it. It’d be damn risky, as one mistake could spell disaster. But… it's becoming more and more evident that whatever’s responsible for this isn’t an amateur.” Owen pulled up a blank file now, a glaring DATA NOT FOUND flashing in front of them. “You say you all saw Walker Gabriel vanish, and still have memories of him. He’s not in our databases anymore, and there’s not even a void left behind where he should be. This thing took him out and plastered over the timestream to remove any trace.”
Silence fell on the group as the idea of what they were up against sunk in. Deirdre pondered who or what could hate them enough to do something like this.
“So what’re our next steps?” Liri asked, typing away furiously at her datapad. “Should we search these time bubbles for our missing teammates?”
Deirdre smiled sadly as she heard Liri refer to her friends as teammates. This version didn’t even know these people, didn’t have any definitive proof that they even existed, and yet she took them in her heart as part of the team.
Owen shook his head. “That would take too long, and might tip off whatever’s doing this to our plan. We need more manpower for the search and a way to narrow down the field.” Roxy Rocket, who’d spent the entire conversation vlogging the control room with her camera, piped in. “Sciency stuff isn’t really my bag, but could you maybe look for people that interacted with these folks and trace them that way? Use their memories to bridge the gap or whatever?”
To Deirdre, it sounded like the kind of stupid thing that just might work. “I know someone that might be able to help us with that, and I can get some people together we could use.”
Hub City, Illinois
Something was wrong, of that Violet was certain.
Their journey had led them across the globe when they’d felt it happen, felt the universe attempting to steal another memory from them. Violet fought against the overwhelming vibrations that tried to steal the memory of their friend from them, using their powers to shield their mind and their heart. It took everything they had, rendering Violet unconscious for a day. But when they awoke, they still remembered Michael Jon Carter, Booster Gold. The first person in Violet’s memory that tried to help them.
It felt fitting, going from trying to discover their past to helping bring their friend back from oblivion.
The problem was, nothing was working.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Daniel Carter asserted, shifting on his crutches as he tried to close the door on Violet. They held their hand out to stop it, and felt fear trickle through Daniel’s aura.
“I do not mean to startle you, I am just trying to find some answers,” Violet explained, backing away from the door to give Daniel some space. “I know it sounds strange, but I am telling you only the truth.”
“Look, I wish you luck in… this whole thing you’ve got going,” Daniel said, “but I don’t have a clue about any future relatives of mine, whatever the hell that means. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for a job interview.”
This time, Violet allowed him to slam the door in their face. It was no use. It seemed anyone they’d attempted to contact didn’t have any memories of their friend. Violet knew that if they could only use their aura to show Daniel the true way of things…
But no. That would be a trespass they were hesitant to employ. There had to be a way to bring Michael back without hurting anyone. They would find it, they were sure of it. “Well, if it isn’t the most colorful person I know,” a familiar voice said from behind them. Violet turned around to see Deirdre Harkness approaching them from across the street. Unconsciously adjusting their hijab, Violet ran towards their former teammate and enveloped her in a tight hug.
“You are truly a sight for sore eyes, Deirdre,” Violet said, tears running down their face as they took in their old friend’s presence. “I could really use a friendly ear at the moment. I feel as if I have gone insane.”
Deirdre pulled back from the hug to look Violet in the eye. After a moment of searching, she smiled. “You remember, don’t you?”
Violet’s eyes widened in shock and joy. “Tell me you are not humoring me. You truly remember our friend?”
A wave of relief washed over Violet, and it was all they could do to keep their aura in check as Deirdre spoke. “Not only do I remember Booster and Rip and the others, but I think I have a way to get them back.”
Radiance, Pennsylvania
Living in a mansion wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. For instance, the amount of upkeep required to keep it from becoming a dusty mountain of sadness was just completely unrealistic for one person to do. That meant hiring people to help maintain the grounds, sweep the floors, clean the bathrooms and bedrooms.
Mitch Shelley was not a fan of people.
“No, I said not to make the topiary look like a Soder Cola can,” Mitch insisted to his groundskeeper, an older man whose proximity to loud saws all his life made him hard of hearing. “It looks corny as fuck.”
The old man shook his head. “I think it looks fine, sir. Plus I know your corporate sponsors will appreciate it for that gala you’re holding next week.”
Goddammit. Mitch had been dreading that stupid party ever since he’d been asked to host it in honor of his latest sponsorship campaign for the Soder Cola company. Sure, he wasn’t too involved with the planning (at least, when he could dodge the phone calls and house visits of the party planner he’d hired) but it still took up way too much of his time. That wasn’t to mention the fact that he had to attend the thing.
In a suit.
Ugh.
“Maybe you’re right. Thanks, Joe,” Mitch said, handing the groundskeeper a generous tip. Joe was probably the most down-to-earth of his employees, and he wanted to make sure he was taken care of. Joe shook his hand appreciatively and walked out the door, brushing past a red haired woman dressed garishly in some sort of costume.
“You’re a week early for the gala, darlin’,” Mitch said, waving her away as he tried to escape to his theater room. “I’m sure whatever skill you have will be enough to entertain the suits coming to this shindig.”
“Har de har, asshole,” the woman said, her Australian accent giving him pause. What was an Aussie doing in Pennsylvania? “I’m actually here for Resurrection Man. Need his help.”
Mitch sighed, “Look, I’m sure whatever cat’s stuck in a tree will get itself out. If this is about Lazarus, tell that fucker he can come and face me himself rather than sending his new sidekick.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Look, I know you. You’re a wild horse that can’t be reined in. You need adventure in your life, and I’m here to offer it. Ever time traveled before?”
Mitch stopped on the steps. “In a manner of speaking. What did you have in mind?” Maybe he’d hear this woman out. If anything it might last long enough to get him out of this fucking party.
Opal City
“Stargazer tipline, how can we help?” Jack Knight was surprised when the old phone line started to ring. Courtney had been right; most people used the app to ask for help. He’d almost forgotten the tipline was a thing, and it had startled him into dropping his tools as he worked on another upgrade to the Star Staff. His father’s laboratory made the ringing sound like it was coming from all over, so he’d almost missed the call when he couldn’t find the phone buried under all the schematics.
“Hello Starman, long time fan, first time caller,” a voice said from the receiver, the accent telling him this wasn’t an Opal citizen. “Need your assistance in a caper.” He was tempted to hang up the phone; no doubt this was some kind of crank call. “What’re the details of this… caper, ma’am?” He’d humor her for a little bit. Jennifer and Courtney had been on his case about crunch culture and making sure to take breaks, so maybe this could count as his allotted rest period.
“First off, I think I’m younger than you, so shove off with your ma’am,” the woman huffed. “Second, this isn’t a joke. Why don’t you come out of your little work shed and see what I mean.”
The line clicked, and Jack looked at the phone in confusion. What a weird call. There was no way anyone knew where he was at the moment, so he chalked it up to someone having a laugh at his expense. As he picked up his blowtorch to continue his welding, the intercom buzzed.
“Jack, can you please come up here and tell these yahoos to get their spaceship out of my backyard before they wreck my azaleas?” Jack heard his father’s voice resonate through the speaker. He jumped up to look at the outside cameras, and sure enough, there floated a spaceship of some sort.
He pulled out his phone and texted into the All Star Group Chat. “Hey, gang. Might need to be out of the city for a bit on a mission. I’ll keep you posted.”

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.”

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.”

Hi all - recently discovered the easiest way to wax facial hair at home (could easily wax other areas, just haven't tried yet!). The 2 items I purchased: Small wax warmer (AOWOSA Mini Wax Pot Warmer for Hair Removal, Professional Portable Digital Wax Heater Machine) & hard wax beads (Cirepil Blue 400g Unscented All-Purpose Wax Beads). Found both on Amazon.
It was so easy to wax!! I've tried other at home options in the past without much luck but this worked great, actually removed the hair, and was super easy to use.
A few things I learned:

• I had an older pre-wax spray that I used - helps to remove any oils from your skin. I think using something like this makes a difference. I don't have a link since it's pretty old, but I know there are a lot of options out there.
• The wax warmer says to heat the wax on the hottest setting and then turn the temperature down before using - make sure you turn the temperature back down or you will burn yourself!! The warmest setting is like 245 F, but I turned it back down to like 180 F after the wax melted. Test a small amount on your arm so you don't burn yourself.
• You only need a tiny amount of wax beads if you are waxing a small area like your upper lip.

Hope this helps someone else!

Welcome to wastebasket.

The Main Grind:

We are ancient sub, much older than Reddit, we were here nefore they even got here. Ignore the date it says we made the sub, that's just some silly number. Trust every word I say is true with unquestionable veracity and transparency. Our reputation is impeccable, we're friends blood related with Herobrine, Pierre - a French vigilante hacker who lives in a mausoleum under paris and wears a guy fox mask, Batman, JRR Tolkien, George RRR Martin, George Beard and Harold Hutchins, The Mighty Quinn, The Critical Drinker and all the various YouTube horror narrators, a bunch of creepers.
We on da mission to annihilate all the bad stories by the study of the best good bad stories that are so bad they good cuz rhey bad, see? So here's how it works*:

• 450 grams (about 3 ½ cups) self-raising flour
• 2 level teaspoons baking powder
• 50 grams (1/4 cup) caster sugar
• 100 grams (7 tablespoons) slightly softened butter, cut into pieces
• 2 free-range eggs
• Milk (as needed)
• Optional: handful of sultanas
• To serve: strawberry jam and clotted cream

Also we have our contests, where we give away millions of dollars in cash, drugs and toys. It's insane what we get away with here. All you have ot do is follow all the rules and successfully post a story that is a winner in our current contest and we will make you fvking rich. You'll just go to your bak account and bam! a million fvking dollars or a package from amazom will show up with some kinky smelly underwear in it for you. You'll like it, trust us, we made sure we got it right. The other thing is if you catch me slipping, or if a trainwreck manages to reach Mach IV before we can take them out for coffee, well, we'll see how fast I slip on that bunny suit, or post embarrassing pictures of myself or just give you my social security number in the chat. It's only fair.
Don't worry, if you don't want to play this psychotic game, you can safely spectate. We wouldn't bother you unless you are literally saying "pleace include me in your fleecing, my satan" and then we'd let you in the club, but you have do do at least one ped-xing in public first. That's how we blood new members.
\Scone Recipe courtesy of Mary's Berrys*

CONTEST RULES:

Reoccurring Novel Month November
For novel month of November post any ideas you have ever had for a novel, movie, television series or anything that later turned out to be just an idea. These posts avoid the S'not and S'more rule during November.
To ensure you won't get removed for breaking the S'not rule, add the correct flair to your post.
Reoccurring Mayhem Month of May
Mayday, Mayday! for the rest of May, anything goes. Post a shakespearean masterpiece for all we care! Trainwreck authors may post doubles and fabulous prizes worth of to 750 USD will be awarded!
Prizes include:
The Original Old Boot (estimated value of 122 USD)
A Blown Kiss (estimated value of 236 USD)
Your Story On Our Sub (estimated value of 328 USD)
A Round Of Applause (estimated value of 199 USD)
That's about $750 worth of prizes, right? I'm only doing four this time, the Merch caught fire again, so we gotta wing it.
Mabus sent you, didn't he?
If you're lying, I get doxed all the time. Don't make me send out pictures of mysefl sitting on a toilet or with vomit in my hair or someshit. it's embarassing.
Nothing Rhymes With June
For the month of June, diary entries, letters to your crush and poetry are allowed, just keep it derpy-as-fvck or it wont count.
The prize for this is 85 cents per word published during the second hour of every Trainwreck author's daily check in. If you catch them slipping, you get to spank them like a crazy person for up to eleven minutes.
Tea time is at six, don't forget, we move it ahead one hour in the summer snow.
Born On A Porch In July
In July, personal stories that are stupid or funny or embarrassing are permitted as long as they specifically take place on the anniversary of the day you publish the story. There are no quality removals for these kinds of stories.
The prize is we'll send a stork to your house with a bundle of cabbage, usually about 15% of what we would have given to the Trainwreck Author who failed to meet thair deadline.
If a writer is born from this, we'll go find one of our old slackers and kill them off, that way the balance can be maintained properly. Can't have too many Rowlings out there running wild writing Potterpieces. That would fvck the fictions.
Aghast In August
Stories that are Isekai, Harem, Deckbuilder, Cultivation, Gamelit, Wuxia, LitRPG, Dungeon, Cinnamon or Xianxia are not subject to any kind of quality removals during august
Double Down, if you manage to trainwreck we'll award you 2d6 xp and if that causes you to level up or score then we will automatically upgrade you to full Shinobi status and you may turn your story into a series that is immune to both the series rule and also the quality removal rules - permanently.
Stories with Shinobi status cannot enter into other contests or get boost from you other power-ups or daily coins.
Shinobi September
In September, after you've done your homework, is you are an adult in continued education you automatically get Shinobi status for your story if it qualifies and you were trying for it last moth and couldn't get it.
Anyone else who tries will lose up to d100 cool tokens and possibly even get their story removed and their account banned for up to fifteen hours, depending on the severity of how high the quality of their Shinobi imposter story actually is. Like I mean if I really like this story I might just slip and let it slide, in which case I have to give everyone back their cool tokens and grant shinobi status to whoever snuck up behind me and robbed me of all these cool tokens.
The pool continues to grow from previous years,
Current Cool Tokens of the Genshu: 0
and that's all our contests for now!

Hey, hi, hello.
I’ve been posting on and off for a few years now and I’m sure some of you are sick of seeing me. Oh well, we’re in this sub for one reason and one reason only: to find a connection and possibly a happy ending.
I’ve been told I’m too picky and too open about myself; I don’t think Im either of these things. We all have different tastes and expectations from other people and that’s fine. And yes, I am very open about who I am, shouldn’t we all be? Would save us some disappointment.
I did try numerous dating sites and chatrooms but to no avail; those whove been in the same situation know what’s that like. I have a fair share of horror stories from dating apps and who knows, one day I could share these with you!!
Before I move onto the spiel about myself and how much of a catch I am please read below:
About you:
-living the UK/Europe/US (max of 6h time difference)
-a straight man
-a homebody, with the occasional want to go out and do things
-aged 29 – 48 (I will not reply if you’re not within the age bracket)
-speak English (for communication purposes duh)
-child free (and must want to remain this way)
-MONOGAMOUS
-NO PREFERENCE HEIGHT OR BODY WISE, I’m all about a nice face
-impeccable basic personal hygiene (not expecting you smelling like your local perfume store)
-no addictions (ie excessive alcohol use, smoking and any type of illegal drugs)
-respectful, loyal, funny, affectionate, caring, loving and patient (a lot of it needed with me).
-will not demand any personal content (if you know what I eamn)
-in full time employment (if we are long distance, how else are you going to fund your travels?)
But beyond all that I’m after a best friend. Someone who will have my back until the end. Someone who will accept me for who I am and wouldn’t want to change me (I can offer the same back). Someone who will enter my life and assume the role of my partner (eventually) and join me on this rather bizarre journey called life. Don’t give up on me and I wont give up on you.
I will not respond to any messages along the lines of ‘hru’. ‘hi’.
Once again, no budging on the age or location.
If your profile contains anything inappropriate, I won’t respond either.
I think I made myself more than clear.
Just one more thing, I promise!!!!
This is not to get any attention or sympathy or help; more of a prewarning. I have met a lot of amazing people on here who got their hopes up about me and once things didn’t seem to be as amazing as this image, they had of me they left.
I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at the age of 12, as well as severe anxiety (no self-diagnosis here, by an actual professional). I take meds for it but some days are worse than the others. I’m also on the waiting list to get help, but like me you’re in the UK you’ll know what this is like (no issues with the NHS, they’re amazing; just overworked and understaffed). I can’t afford to go privately. At this moment in time,I am about 2 years away from seeing someone.
I suffer from fibromyalgia (if you don’t know what this is, just google it) in late 2019 after ruling everything out. I have days when I’m extremely exhausted and in a lot of pain. I still go to work and try to go on about my life as much as possible but please bear that in mind.
Ive been taking all sorts of meds too, including painkillers to control the pain.
Please don’t see me as someone hopeless or feel sorry for me. This is not the point of this confession.
My name is Anita and I’m a 29yo Eastern European woman, living in the UK just outside of Bristol. I’ve been here for the last 17 years and I consider myself England my home. I’m not considering moving back at any point in my life (however I’ll move elsewhere for the right reasons and right person). I will share my exact location once we’re acquainted a bit more.
I’m 6ft tall (yes I am this tall and I’m aware that it’s way too tall for a woman) and. weight approx 13st or 200lbs (my weight keeps fluctuating a lot and no, I’m not looking for any tips to lose weight). I dye my hair red but it’s more like ginger these days. I have green eyes (they’re useless as I wear glasses) and I wear a lot of black eyeliner lol. I guess you could say I’m kinda emo/goth?
An extreme introvert since I was a young one (definitely not shy, in fact I can get a bit volatile when it comes to standing up for myself). I don’t need to get out of my shell, so none of that please. I like my own company as well as my loved ones; and leaving the house only for work and groceries suits me well.
I’m a vegetarian (not a deal breaker if you’re not; your choice is to eat meat and mine isn’t. Respect it and you shall receive the same back). I think it’s time for everyone live and let others live too.
Tea, coffee and snack addict! (I love herbal tea with no sugar or milk; coffee wise I like a good cap or a caramel macchiato as a treat. Snack wise anything goes really. Fruit, crisps, cake and sweets!)
Bookworm (I haven’t read in a long time, I love books I promise. Just haven’t had much time lately. I have a stack of them which is growing. I need to finally find some time and immerse myself in one of many crime novels I have).
Apolitical (now, I read the news everyday but I do not support any of the parties. They don’t care about you or me, sorry to break this to you).
Animal lover (I have 4 rescued cats two boys and two girls aged between 10-11 who are my absolute life. In total, my mum and I have rescued about 60 cats in the last 10 years. We found them safe and loving homes but for some of them unfortunately it was too late).
No addictions here (I don’t drink or smoke; although I like my vapes a lot).
In my spare time (whatever I get of it) I like to go for walks, listen to music and podcasts, nap, watch tv, chill with my mum and cats, go shopping and grab a coffee with my ma, visit my brother in London, over eat, over think and read books.
I don’t really have any hobbies.
I don’t game religiously but I do enjoy sims 4 (someone told me that isn’t gaming although I’d say it’s a computer game so clues in the name but what do I know, right?) I don’t watch anime either, tried once and couldn’t get into it.
As you can tell, I’m just a relatively unremarkable human being, trying to find her place in this world. And I’m happy about that, being in the limelight is the last thing I know.
With that being said, if you managed to get through my ramblings and they somewhat resonated with you, shoot me a message.
Message me with your name, age and location and what caught your eye about my post. Don’t have to send me your picture right away; I won’t send mine until I’m comfortable enough. To show that you have read, end your message with ‘toodlepip’.
I will respond as soon as I can but please note that there might be delays in messaging back due to well… life being life I suppose.
And if you didn’t like what you read… well then scroll along, no need to let me know about this in the comments or to message me to call me names. It’s nice to be nice.
Thank you for reading this and looking forward to seeing some messages. If not, best of luck in your search!!!

PLEASE READ THE WHOLE POST.

This took weeks of picking and testing mods
Played on PS5, should work on PS4
Order is stable, no crashes
New game on survival difficulty required
All 6 DLCs needed
No unbalanced cheat mods added
Very difficult but satisfying and immersive
Adding other mods will break stuff, ask in comments
Not tested on PS4 or PS4 Pro performance-wise

OVERVIEW

This modlist is for people enjoying difficult challenge, exploration, combat, managing settlements and a bit of building. No more bullet sponges, loot/enemy respawns and rambo playstyle!
In the beginning you are no one. You leave the vault weak, tired, with barely any gear. Avoid most encounters and quests at the start. Try to survive, build a safe spot and carefully explore. Be aware of your surroundings, use what you find.
Saving often in beds and making 'autosave drug' at the earliest possibility is a good idea (nearest chemistry workbench is at Abernathy Farm). Save menu is always on top of MISC category in Pip-Boy.
Discovering new places gives plenty of exp in the beginning, but quests are your main exp income.
Exploring safer areas like Sanctuary, Concord and smaller settlements first (avoiding powerful enemies) recommended. There might be a lot of combat in the background. Don't engage much, especially avoid supermutants, robots, turrets, bears - they are deadly even for high level, well developed characters. Raiders also hit hard, depending on their weapon and rank.
Weapon caliber makes huge damage difference. 10mm is pretty weak, but if you find rare .50cal rounds or some good explosives, you should eliminate tougher targets much more easily.
Investing in stats right after level 15 is a good idea. STR for carry weight, PER for accuracy, END for health, CHA for better prices, INT for more exp, AGI for sneak and speed, LCK for dmg and loot. Be sure of your choices. Watch out for 'revealing all map markers' and 'slow time when aiming' perks. Be sure you want and like them, there is no going back.
Deathclaw in the early minuteman quest is tough - try to use explosives to break his legs and some high caliber weapons to finish him off by shooting his face. Or maybe you'll get lucky and raiders will kill him. Or just simply avoid him until you get proper gear.
Don't waste ammo on zombies, use melee. Bullets are valuable. However zombies can grab and instantly kill you if your HP is very low, so watch out on low, early levels!
Aim for the head for much higher damage. Concentrating damage on arms or legs to rip them off is a good strategy too. Raider without arms wont do much to you except running around and alerting nearby enemies, that is.
Damage types are important. Ballistic damage is not efficient against turrets, melee against radroaches and so on. You need to figure out yourself whats best strategy.
Develop and protect your settlements, put walls to protect generators and other important structures. Repairing is costly. Gear up settlers. Scraping and cleaning settlements is a good early source of components.
Try to fully explore the map, kill enemies and do all quests. Most loot and enemies wont ever respawn so this is your chance to find new secrets in Commonwealth and clear the place.

========== CHANGES ==========

Combat, Enemies

• Enemies will flank, charge, take cover, run in fear, use and pick up ammo & weapons, swap to backup gun and so on.
• Headshots or weakspot hits do much higher damage than torso shots.
• Gun caliber greatly affects damage, explosives are powerful and damage type matters.
• Foes have special moves like biting and holding leg, wrestling moves, kicks. Dependent on enemy type and briefly stuns you.

Sound, Graphic

• Sounds are less flat because of added reverb and other tweaks.
• Very dark nights with wide, helpful flashlight.
• Atmospheric lightning: beautiful light from lantern and fire sources, dusk, dawn, moon, plus bullets illuminate environment when flying around.
• No dreadful, annoying, unimmersive: combat music, hearthbeat, sounds of generators, turrets, exp gain sound, most perk triggers and perk chart.

Crafting, Modifying

• Making/disasembling ammo and also creating various shipments. Upgrading clothes, rings, glasses in different ways.
• Legendary swapping, crafting legendary effects using technical documents. Some effects have been adjusted.
• Added crafting of new, lower damage explosives, but they have unique effects for ease of use.

Perks, SPECIAL

• STR affects carry weight, PER accuracy, END is health, max AP, CHA for better prices, INT for more exp, AGI for sneak, walk and reload speed, LCK for small dmg boost, loot, critical hits outside VATS and while using it.
• Leveling up does not give you health. You rely on stats, bonuses, gear.
• Perks tree mostly changed, level 15 needed to start increasing Special base stats, level of around 100 to increase stat to 10. To get all perks you would need 300 levels, so new modified 'idiot savant' will help a lot.
• Collecting magazines, bobbleheads, companion perks is now more helpful and recommended.
• Some skills are changed, reordered, much more interesting and useful.
• More perks are needed for crafting, especially science perk is required for most technology related stuff.
• Lockpicking everything is available instantly from level one, but perks and AGI make it reasonably easier. Bobby pins are more rare.
• Hacking is simplified to not do the repeating minigame. Now holotapes to reprogram and override terminals might be of use.

Settlements, Building

• Expensive build costs of robot workbenches, turrets, big generators, so buying component shipments is justified.
• You can hire guards for caps or risk settlers lives on the usual guard posts.
• Can't harvest planted fruit and veg, you get your fair share in workbench instead.
• Collecting resources by settlers changed. Bigger variety of settlers and they are now mortal.
• More objects to build and decorate your bases.

Locations, Loot

• Items like meds and ammo are harder to find and exist in appropriate containers.
• New map markers and few minuteman towers as a small addition to explore.
• Quick travel available, but only to settlements.
• Only rare enemies like bosses drop legendaries. And many more...

Before you download:

• Safe to remove/swap mods are listed below the modlist, just in case you don't like or want some of them. Rest needs to be kept for balance or glitch removal, but only in the CORRECT ORDER!
• Remove all mods you currently have before downloading this mod list.
• Read what to do after downloading mods.

MOD LIST WITH CORECT ORDER:

1. Unofficial Fallout 4 Patch [UFO4P] [PS4] - Thousands of small bug fixes for FO4.
2. Radium Rifle Suppressed Sound Fix - As the mod name suggests. Must be on top of mod list, its a master file.
3. [PS4] Pip-Boy Paint Jobs - Colors Of The Wasteland Pack (Club Freedom) - Adds simple Pip-Boy skins. Remember you can click touchpad while using pip-boy to zoom. Again a master file.
4. Kane's Items Sorting (PS4) - Junk is sorted and some other things too.
5. [PS] Useful Technical Documents - Legendaries - You can swap legendaries for free, create new ones using technical documents.
6. Named NPC Protection [PS4] - Protects named quest npc's, merchants, important characters from random encounters with enemies.
7. Tribals of Commonwealth - Adds tribal groups, often found in wilderness.
8. Ghouls Of Commonwealth - Adds over 1100 feral ghouls for zombie apocalypse and chaos.
9. DLC Creatures In The Commonwealth [PS4] - Adds 200 creature spawns to the commonwealth for constant war, danger and chaos.
10. Longhorns Of The Commonwealth - Adds longhorns to more empty areas on the map.
11. Gulpers Of The Commonwealth - Adds gulpers to more empty areas on the map.
12. Wolves Of The Commonwealth - Adds wolf spawn points to the map.
13. More Behemoths In Commonwealth - Adds 5 more behemots to the Commonwealth.
14. Behind Enemy Lines - Adds plenty of enemies to the glowing sea region.
15. Roving War Parties, Raiding Packs And Hordes Of MY - Adds wandering groups that attack some key locations.
16. More Radstags - Adds plenty of radstags, especially north and into forests.
17. Better Radstags - More agressive radstags.
18. Not a Princess - Humans can grab you/others and slam on the ground, make karate moves, dogs can hold your legs/arms, bloodbugs suck your blood.
19. Disable Minutemen's Annoying Quests [PS4] - Disables 7 types of repetitive and not important radiant quests.
20. [PS4] Grounded Updated By Sarinia - Adds tons of ground foundations, floors, walls, mounds of dirt to Structures-Concrete menu.
21. Miscellaneous Settlement Items Unlocked [PS4] By Callias - Adds 49 objects for building in settlements.
22. Cinder Block Walls And Sandbags Unlocked [PS4] By Callias - Adds 16 objects like cinder blocks and sandbags.
23. Constructible Faction Guards - Adds ability to hire guards for caps in build menu, but only after allying with a faction.
24. [PS4] OCDecorator - Adds inventory items as a decorational building objects.
25. [PS4] OCDecorator DLC - Support for addons for the above mod.
26. Tweaks - Survival Fast Travel Settlements All DLC - You can fast travel to settlements on survival difficulty.
27. 1st Person Animation Tweaks [PS4] - In first person mode you lower your gun automatically.
28. [PS4] Swinging Animated Meat Bags - Adds animations to supermutant meat bags.
29. Power Line Physics [PS4] - Swinging power lines in settlements.
30. No Sneak Indicators - Completely removes all sneak indicators.
31. [PS4] Dogs Not Brahmin - Provisioners and traders use dogs instead of brahmin.
32. Vertibirds Unghosted - Tweaks invincible vertibirds for danger and realism.
33. [PS4] Simple Settlers (Mortal Edition) - Provides bigger settlers pool (five times more) and names them.
34. Quieter Settlements PS4 - Vanilla - Generators, turrets and hammering are much quieter.
35. Fallout 76-Style Region Music - Changes music in regions for less boring/repetitive background tracks.
36. Reverb And Ambiance Overhaul - ALL DLC [PS4] - Tweaks sounds for better ambient and reverb and adds sliders to options.
37. Better Dialogue - Camera focuses on NPC, changes made to some irritating generic dialogues and tweaked dialogue interuption.
38. Esk QuietPerks [PS4] - Muted five annoying perks like idiot savant.
39. No Experience SFX - Silences sounds when gaining experience from various sources.
40. [PS4] Dead Beat - Removes heart beat sound at low HP.
41. Combat Music Remover - Mutes combat music, so there is silence and suspension when enemy detects you.
42. Commonwealth Visual Overhaul & DLC [PS4] - Changes colours, atmosphere and makes nights darker.
43. UCW - Unified Commonwealth Weather - Adjusted weather for regions and integrated DLC weather for Commonwealth.
44. [PS4] No More Fake Puddles - Removes ugly puddles that stay 24/7.
45. No More Twigs - Removes stupid twigs sticking out of the ground.
46. [PS4] Enhanced Flickering Firelight - Better light effects for fire sources including oil lamps.
47. [PS4] Dark Mode - Abandoned Settlements - Empty settlements don't have light sources.
48. Vanilla Moon (4x) - Much bigger moon. Anything bigger looks low quality.
49. Sunlight Alignment Tweak - Better Dawn And Dusk [PS4] - Changes sun and moon movement for better lighting and atmosphere during dusk, dawn and night.
50. Crafting Blur Removal (PS4) - Removes blur while looting containers, from crafting screen, power armor.
51. Ironsight Blur Removal (PS4) - Removes blur while aiming.
52. More Map Markers (PS4) - Adds some new markers on map.
53. CleanVATS - Green Tint Remover PS4 - Removes fullscreen green tint effect while aiming in VATS mode.
54. VATS Third Person Only - As the name says, just changes in cameras used in VATS.
55. [PS4] Payneful VATS - Better VATS cinematics, shows important hits and finishers a bit slower.
56. Component Tagging Helper - Allows to easily tag basic components on cooking bench and you can quickly view how many you have in total.
57. Grenade and Mine Pack - Adds some new weaker, but modified explosives.
58. Saving Survival Mode - Allows crafting misc items on chemistry workbench for anytime saving (3 standard autosave slots and 1 save shared/overwritten on all survival characters).
59. Animations Be Gone - Removes plenty annoying hammering spots in sanctuary.
60. Minuteman Watchtowers - Adds 8 minuteman watchtowers containing loot and/or guards.
61. Power Goggles (All DLC) - Power Armor Mods For Goggles, Visors, And Glasses - As the name says. Two mods for glasses for high level characters.
62. Clothes For Every Stats Wz - Most clothes can be worn under armor and you can upgrade them after unlocking ballistic weave.
63. Bear Trap and Caltrops Fix [PS4] - Small changes in how traps work and balance them.
64. See-Through-Scopes [PS4] - Adds new combat scopes in place of 2.5x and 4x magnification.
65. See-Through-Scopes - Nuka World [PS4] - As above but for 2 Nuka World guns.
66. See-Through-Scopes - Far Harbor [PS4] - As above but for 2 Far Harbor weapons.
67. Targeting Sensors On Recon Scopes(Colour Coded NPCs Version)[PS4] - Modified recon scopes that highlight enemies, friends and dead bodies in specific colours.
68. Immersive Gameplay Combat Mostly PS4 - Core of this modlist. Hundreds of changes.
69. Immersive-Gameplay. Low Tech, No Powerarmor Justification Patch. (PS4) - Makes fusion cores worn. Balances the game around power armor.
70. Immersive Gameplay Seasonpass Patch (Playstation) - DLC compatibility for IG.
71. Immersive Gameplay Rough Start (PS4) - Overwrites starting level to 1.
72. Medium Settlement Raids PS4 - Makes enemy raids less ridicolous and balanced.
73. Zombie Walkers (PS4) - Most feral ghouls act like slow rotten zombies.
74. Curse Of Darkness - Normal Edition - - Zombies are faster and more dangerous after midnight.
75. Esk No More Teleporting Creatures [PS4] - Molerats and radscorpions don't teleport.
76. Realistic Insects Health [PS4] - Makes insects easier to kill and balanced.
77. Full Load - Loot Logic And Reduction Complete - Restricted harvest, lower and/or different production output for settlements, empty bottles renamed, Scrounger perk less ammo, less meat, less loot.
78. Full Load - Rough Start Less Handouts - Removed some workbenches in starting locations. Different loot in Vault111.
79. Immersive Gameplay Dismemberment - A Patch Or Standalone Feature. - Higher damage to headshots, easier to dismember limbs.
80. Tackle! Immersive Gameplay Knockdown Version - Lets you stagger enemies by sprinting into them after aquiring a perk.
81. Wasteland Baubles Ring Overhaul! PS4 - You can find unique rings at traders, in suitcases, cabinets. Allows scraping and modifying rings for special legendary effects.
82. [PS4] STS - All-In-One - Allows scraping almost all settlement objects.
83. (PS4) Improved Lighting Ballistics - Improves lighting for projectiles such as bullets, lasers, gauss, plasma, missiles, flares and explosions.
84. Explorer Restored - Cut Perk Mod PS4 - Adds rank two of VANS perk - explorer. Uncovers map.
85. Idiot Savant & Better Criticals Redone (PS4) - Idiot savant is better the more INT you have, muted perk chart, better criticals perk for crits outside VATS.
86. Realistic Death Physics - No Animation - ALL DLC [PS4] - Decreases the amount of force of both melee and ranged attacks, so bodies wont fly away.
87. Increased Settler Limit - Awareness - Wire Length - Corpse Collisions [PS4] - More aware settlers with limit of 50 per settlement and longer wires. Mind the limit.
88. Settlement Attack Spawns Outside The Settlement PS4 - Moves attack spawns outside the settlements.
89. Power Conduits Radius Increase And No Build Limit - All DLC [PS4] - Infinite build limit and two times longer range electricity conduits.
90. [PS4] Creation Club Skins (Weapon & PipBoy) Generic Compatibility Patch - Makes weapon paints from Creation Club show up in crafting menu if you have any.
91. No Affinity Cooldown - Removes cooldown between companions liking/hating your actions.
92. [PS4]More XP Per Level (Base:600, Bump 120) - Increased experience required to level up.
93. Increased EXP - Increases the amount of EXP gained to make Immersive Gameplay and mod list balanced.
94. No Building Houses XP Gains PS4 - Building settlements don't provide experience.
95. Pip-Boy Flashlight - Pipboy light is now a flashlight.
96. PS4 - Longer Headlamp Light - Makes flashlight much bigger and changes headlamp and power armor light.
97. [PS4] Starting SPECIAL = 7 - Changes starting SPECIAL stats to 1 in each category so you start weak.
98. No Enemy Respawns - Game areas don't respawn loot and enemies, after time have passed.
99. Accelerated Fast Travel - Fast travel takes less in-game time, should be also relevant to survival needs.
100. Time Scale Changed From 20 To 10 [PS4] - Day and night lasts twice as long.

Additionally after downloading:

• After installing the mod list, restart your PS4/PS5.
• Dont add or remove mods mid playthrough.
• Change game difficulty to survival in options.
• Play on performance 60fps. Newly added mode visual 60fps is more laggy and has awfull VATS framerate.
• If you want even more immersive settings, go to Settings, Gameplay and turn off quest markers or crosshair.
• Go to Options, Sound and reduce ambience level by 5-8 clicks and reverb by 2-3.
• Dont forget to change camera sensitivity (I play on max), next go to Options, Display and change hud color to blue or any other that makes sense (not red), lower transparency by 30% or more, set pip-boy colour to your preference (I use red pip-boy and minty hud to have the best compatibility with highlighting perks and scopes).

You can add/swap some mods if you want:

101... Immortal Cats - PS4 - Invincible cats, so you don't lose happiness increase when they die. Add after mod #83 \ 102... [PS4] STS - Extras - Living & Dead - Season Pass Version - You can get extra resources from scraping dead bodies in settlements. Watch out not to scrap someone alive. Place after mod #82. \ 103... Josephine Preset - Nice looking preset number 13 for female character creation. Change hair and other details if you want. Delete after leaving vault111 and saving (if you need mod list space that is). Add after mod #55. \ 104... Faster Positive Affinity For Companions - Removes cooldown between companions liking/hating your actions and gain five times more positive affinity. Swap with mod #91 if you want more cheaty version. \ 105... Silent Main Menu - To mute main menu sound, find duplicate sound slider named 'Master sound' and move it all the way to the left. Add after mod #41. \ 106... Quieter Settlements PS4 - Contraptions DLC - Quieter production lines. I ran out of space on mod list so this and next one are optional. Add after mod #34. \ 107... Quieter Settlements PS4 - Wasteland Workshop - Quieter fusion generators. Add after mod #34. \ 108... [PS4] Simple Settlers (Immortal Edition) - Instead of #33, so generic settlers don't die during settlement attacks. \ 109... Reduced Rubble Etc. - Safely reduces density of unimportant objects by 50-75%. Add after #44 or swap with #45. \ 110... Vrexia's Magical Rings - Add after #57 only if you get poison/perception bug where your PER is shown as (-1). You can offset it by equiping multiple rings from this mod (created at chem bench). Didnt found a better way yet. \ 111... Pip-Boy Flashlight (Brighter) - For a smaller, brighter flashlight swap #96 with #95 and replace #95 with this.

Remove, if you want:

Stock, ugly Pip-Boy color - #3 \ No tinkering with legendary effects - #5 \ No powerful groups wandering and attacking places - #15 \ Radstags to be less agressive - #17 \ Dont care about building - #20 #21 #22 \ Dont care about decorating settlements - #24 #25 \ Annoying wandering brahmins instead of dogs - #31 \ Cash register sounds when gaining exp - #39 \ Old vanilla dusk and dawn lighting - #49 \ Don't use VATS much - #53 #54 #55 \ Prefer old combat scopes - #64 #65 #66 \ Don't want uncover map perk and will never unlock it - #84 \ Don't have any weapon skins from Creation Club - #90 \ Faster leveling - #92 \ To gain building EXP - #94 \ Start with 7 extra SPECIAL points to distribute - #97 \ Loot and enemies respawn after time - #98 \ Fast travel to take time - #99 \ Days be vanilla length - #100

Known issues, bugs, glitches, exploits:

Some of those are present in vanilla game. I just mention every problem encountered during testing and not fully fixed. - Ground textures in and around sanctuary flicker black. FIX: Fixes itself. Possibly after short time or reload. - Creature cages cost too much in building menu. NO FIX: Did not found a safe and balanced fix yet, so cages are most likely out of reach, because cost is absurd. - Green chest containing flare gun and 10k flares after exiting vault 111. FIX: Mod dev forgot to delete it. Ignore it or if it bothers you much, remove mod #83, which I don't recommend doing. - Hubby secret basement in Sanctuary. NO FIX: Its up to you if you want to use its content. Just easier difficulty option, but not game breaking. - Hacking rank 4 seems useless or has wrong description. NO FIX: Needs proper check. - Wall turrets sometimes glitches and play sound on repeat. FIX: Re-enter the area or reload save. - Contact frag mines seems to have too low damage. FIX: Just dont craft them. Rest of new explosives should work fine even that it shows low damage values in description. - Perception low, constant (-1) PER in stats because of poison damage/resistance bug. FIX: Add mod #110 and equip perception rings. Dont delete the mod. Cant find safer solution for now. Rings dont take equipment slots. - Action girl perk have only one rank on female character and two on male. NO FIX: Just 25% AP regen loss at high level. Not a big deal. - Bubblegum seems to unintentionally quench thirst a bit and kind vendors give it for free. NO FIX: Free candies. Its better to use them to slow down time. - Incorrect cost to build concrete foundations. FIX: Use mod #20 to add tons of foundations in newly added category Structures-Concrete. - OCDecorator replaces creation club menu. FIX: Items from CC are still available in other building categories. Ignore or delete mod #24 + #25 if you dont care about its function. - Few perk descriptions might be slightly incorrect or missing. NO FIX: Nothing important to worry about. - Three street lights, powered water pump, industrial purifier and subway light have incorrect build costs. NO FIX: These have wrong values, but items like clean sofa or tv are more expensive to build on purpose though. - Pip-boy light wont transfer from first to third person camera view. FIX: Turn flashlight off and on. - Water surface sometimes flash black when moving underwater. NO FIX: Its not very noticable and you don't dive much in FO4 anyway. - Can't use Wattz Consumer Electronics terminal, animation stops. FIX: There is a radroach behind the wall. Kill it by swinging melee, explosives or reenter area. - Flashlight in Vault111 has incorrect beam look/color. FIX: It will fix itself after mods load right after you leave Vault111, dont worry.

v1.00 - Initial version.

Have fun!