Written 5/8/2024- updates attached below

I tried posting this on kendrick almost a week ago and it got no response, I messaged the mods to ask about Karma restrictions or account age requirements and they never replied. I made a new account and it was the same issue, but I found out last night I wasn’t fully banned, so I figured I’d throw it up and see if anyone finds it valuable. It’s written for people who have no prior knowledge of the rap game/music business. I don’t have to go as hard on obscuring names this time. One of the influencers I mentioned in my last post is known for doxxing and threatening violence against people who mention the many contradictions in their stories. (Sorry for any typos/mistakes I want to go to bed.)
Origins
I believe the current Drake and Kendrick Lamar beef is either completely or partially fabricated by certain industry leaders or the parties involved in an effort to distract from something bigger going down behind the scenes. If you were an influential label owner facing major accusations, and you needed to deflect media attention from yourself, recreating one of the most defining moments in rap history during the social media era would be a way to do it. It also wouldn’t hurt that two of the biggest rappers in the world were already sending shots at each other in their music for years prior. The public consensus is they are simply two famous rappers who hate each other and fighting over the spot for the top like in the 90’s. Only people who were directly involved could paint a more cohesive picture of the whole story. Even when all the cards drop, there is a good chance the average person won’t be able to find direct sources on their own and will continue to support their favorite artists and dismiss any evidence of their crimes like the drizzy subreddit or Ak fans.

As I said the beef between Kendrick and Drake has been brewing in the background for years, with both rappers sending shots and sneak dissing each other over the course of at least 8 years. The most agreed upon origin story is the first diss was the 2016 Big Sean and Kendrick collaboration, “Control,” and Drake responded with, “The Language”. Things stayed relatively lighthearted for a while and both were intentionally vague for many years. Before I go deep into the Kendrick and Drake stuff, it’s really important to examine some of Drake’s prior beefs because they add a ton of context to my theory. In my opinion Kendrick and Co. started scheming all of this some time around Mid 2020-Mid 2022, well after the whole Pusha T beef had transitioned into the Kanye beef.

What exactly started the beef is debatable, but at the time many attributed it to rumors of Drake pursuing Ye’s ex Amber Rose. Unfortunately the timeline isn’t 100 percent clear, and if I included every detail this would be at least 200+ pages so I’ll stick with the important stuff. The ultimate outcome of the Pusha T battle in 2018 was the revelation of Drake’s son Adidon that he had previously been hiding from the world along with getting Ye directly involved in the beef.

Here are some more examples of Drake antagonizing Ye and of him trying to use women as pawns to get material for his diss tracks. The Drake line, “Yeah, I probably go link to Yeezy, I need me some Jesus, but as soon as I start confessin' my sins, he wouldn't believe us," could be a reference to sleeping with Kim Kardashian, trying to double down on his threats to harm him or his family, or it could be a double entendre. Another example is using the name Kiki in another song, which was apparently one of Kim’s nicknames. Some other possible examples include the theories he may have tried the same thing with Kendrick’s wife Whitney around 2020-2021 in an attempt to use as ammo against Kendrick, which I’ll go into later. I don’t listen to much of either artist's music, but there are probably many of other examples in Drake’s catalogue that I’m leaving out. There is also his song Omerta released in 2019, which I'll go into below.

“Your baby mother call me when she lonely My tailor see me twice a week, he like my homie Forever grateful, forever thankful Diamond necklace, but she wears it on her ankle”

(Probably referring to Kim Kardashian since she had a few pictures with her wearing diamond ankle bracelets and was trying to make it into a trend.

“I plan to buy your most personal belongings when they up for auction”

(There were various rumors floating around for a while that Drake was blackmailing Ye with something and he was fighting to keep it from the public. I thought about it and this line might be referencing a sex tape with Kim or her little sister who me was very touch before she turned 18. In 2022 there was a whole storyline on Kim’s show where Ye flies to LA to prevent her second sex tape from being released.)

West Hollywood, know my presence is menacing
Cosa Nostra, shady dealings
Racketeering, the syndicate got they hand in plenty things The things that we've done to protect the name are unsettling But no regrets, though, the name'll echo Years later, none greater
Death to a coward and a traitor, that's just in my nature, yeah
(Drake and Ye both frequented the Delilah Nightclub located in West Hollywood and lived closeby on the same street for a while.)
"I don't carry cash 'cause the money is digital
It's the American Expresser, the debt collector"

(Sounds a lot more like it could be crypto to launder or send large amounts of ill gotten gains. It started becoming mainstream around them)

"Last year, niggas really feel like they rode on me
Last year, niggas got hot 'cause they told on me
I'm 'bout to call the bluff of anybody the fold on me"

These lines stood out because they could be referring to Ye telling the public about Drake's alleged threats a couple months before the songs release. This happened not long after the release of Sicko mode which was towards the end of 2018 as well. Ye was discussing the incident on Twitter and reached out to Drake and Travis to talk to him in private. In the next set of tweets Kanye publicly accused Drake of threatening him and his family in a major way. Surprisingly Ye seemed genuinely scared and amongst his, “crazy rants,” some of the stuff he said makes a ton of sense in hindsight. This also the beginning of his second serious public struggles with Bipolar disorder after being committed in 2016 shortly after an on stage rant where he calls out Jay Z for selling out and says he's afraid he might kill him.. As someone who shares the same diagnosis, I have a pretty good understanding of mania and psychosis and firmly believe that it's important not to write people off right away due to their mental illness. Some of my most thoughtful, creative, and productive periods were inspired by mania. Industry bigwigs have also been using mental illness to discredit influential black celebrities and visionaries going back decades, but it really picked up in the 80’s.

Dave Chappelle has gone into this a lot in the past and claims he experienced something similar before he quit show business and dipped to Africa. Their stories have a lot of interesting parallels if you’re familiar or curious. I remember he actually visited Ye at his house in Wyoming after he was reported to have had a, "mental breakdown," during his presidential run in 2020 thus marking his third breakown in six years.. The reason I put it in quotes is because it happened right after he publicly accused Kim of cheating and delivered his legendary speech on abortion. Dave went as far as going on live tv and telling the public he wasn’t crazy, he was just really struggling because he was the only one at the time fighting against the narrative, which can often be a suicide mission or a ticket to obscurity. These are three examples of someone speaking up and being deemed crazy, two years later came the nazi stuff and I'm sure we'll have plenty in store for 2024.

This is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the very common pattern of artists dying or having their careers destroyed either after they try to leave their label or threaten to reveal industry secrets. A few more interesting industry connections I made in my research include the connections between:

T.U.G. records and J Cole's independent label Dreamville are both managed by Interscope Records, whose parent company is Universal Music Group.

Universal Music Group also hac Drake's label OvO label as well as Ye and Kendrick's old labels on their roster before they left to form their own independent labels in 2022 (around the same time the disses between Kendrick and Drake started escalating). Finally Bad Boy Records, which is owned by Diddy, and Motown Records who own Diddy's other R&B label Love Records, are also both owned by Universal. This means every label I mention is currently or was previously owned by Universal Music Group.

Ye tried for years to get out of his contract with Defjam, which happens to be ran by Jay Z who is known to be a close associate of Diddy. Jay would always used his money and power to fight against it. Ye even spoke out publicly on a few occasions, including when he said Jay Z was trying to kill him during one of his concerts. My theory is after years of getting nowhere and having his reputation skewered, in 2022 Ye finally said, "Fuck it," and dropped all the anti- Semetic stuff intentionally in a successful attempt to force his label to into using their morality clause, which requires labels to drop an artist if they're accused of any major controversy that could hurt the label’s profits. For the fourth time in four years the media reported he was having a breakdown. Even though they tried to punish him by cutting off all of his sources of income and freezing his accounts he still managed to bounce back pretty quickly. It was often reported how much he was losing, but it rarely discussed how he still was filthy rich in spite of the retrictions. His label wanted to discourage other artists from trying the same thing. My theory is he might have bought Kim or Kylie's alleged sex tape and used it for his own leverage. For Kendrick, his transition to his independent label ApLang went a lot smoother, but he had to split ownership of his new label with the previous manager owner Dave Free. Sadly it's still difficult for new or more niche artists to establish themselves without the some help.

He may be a lot of things but Ye isn’t dumb just because he has a mood disorder and the guys at the top know this, which is why I think he has really played up his diagnosis when it benefitted him. He’s still one of the most talented musicians in the game and I really think he sees his bipolar like a superpower as he says. It’s like his own invisibility cloak. He can go off his meds for a little, make an album after staying up for 72 hours, go on a “psychotic” twitter rant dropping facts throughout, then start up again once he makes enough news headlines. I think it’s worth noting the first divorce rumors in 2020 coincided with Ye’s abortion speech during his presidential run and the cheating accusations. that led to him dropping out and moving to Wyoming, and a couple months ago in February 2024 he was committed again.

The point I’m making is bipolar is complex, but pretty manageable especially if you have a ton of money to find meds that work for you and a good doctor and can keep substance abuse and stress at a manageable level. I think Ye is smart enough to know this, but it’s just safer for him to really play up the mental issues in the media. He’s proven he can literally say whatever he wants after getting cancelled and the average person is just going to write it off as psycho babble. While bias in health care is a sad fact of society, if you can use it to your advantage I say go for it. It might’ve just kept the microscope off of him long enough to plan his attack.

Ye v. Drake: Quotes of 2018
(Start of the beef, drake threats, and suspicion towards Kardashian family. )

“ It’s not about rap. It’s about family. We have to be close as a family and never let these people infiltrate just for radio spins”

“We need to show the world that people can talk without people ending up dead or in jail.”

”This is a man speaking to a man that has been placed in the program to fuck with Kanye West head and set me up“

”See when you care about your family you don’t let no man push you to do nothing that could risk your freedom“

These first four tweets by Ye were all in reference to perceived threats made by Drake after their beef escalated circa 2018. He began speaking on the industry and talking more about his psych hospital commitment two years prior and how he thought they were going to kill him. It's pretty obvious how the whole thing was planned by the sketchy doctor who called it in and his physical trainer who has a ton of connections to weird shit involving his celebrity clients.

I found interesting that Ye might not have been the first major league rapper whose life Drake threatened. During a similar period of mental illness the up and coming rapper XXXtentacion accused Drake of stealing his flow and dissed him a few times. Not long after he made a post online saying if he dies, it was Drake who did it. There are tons of conspiracies online, but none of the evidence is strong enough to draw a definitive connection. Also while it maybe be coincidental, Kendrick’s latest album Mr Morale also painted the picture that Kendrick was dealing with some serious personal issues. Some lines throughout the album may have been used to bait Drake into escalating, but it wasn’t until The Weekend, Future, and Metro Booming dropped, “We Don’t Trust You,” then Drake and J. Cole dropped, “First Person Shooter,” which was followed a couple days later with, “Like That,” where Kendrick started the chain of events that has led us to today.

Kanye vs. Drake: Quotes of 2020

Summary: Ye runs for president and gets suppressed for saying what very well could be the truth and was immediately deemed insane by the media. Kim did a couple interviews and everything he said was immediatly false. There is almost guarenteed to be some sketchy shit going down revolving her and her family. Ye was absolutely terrified of her keeping the kids away from him and it seems like there are still efforts being made to this day to paint a certain image of him for ulterior motives.

Below are six more quotes from a fan taking a deep dive into his 2020 tweets courtesy of u/ thehatstore42069 on Yeezy
”NORTHY I AM GOING TO WAR AND PUTTING MY LIFE ON THE LINE AND IF I AM MURDERED DON’T EVER LET WHITE MEDIA TELL YOU I WASNT A GOOD MAN,” West, 43, wrote in the tweet, adding, “WHEN PEOPLE THREATEN TO TAKE YOU OUT OF MY LIFE JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU”

"I need a public apology from J Cole and Drake to start with immediately... I'm Nat Turner... I'm fighting for us."

"the utmost respect for all brothers" and said "we need to link and respect each other... no more dissing each other on labels we don't own"

"Ye is constantly trying to tell people that his family does not have his or his kids best interests at heart. He goes on to list others, linking them together with the thinking emoji. These people include rap artist Drake and Larsa Pippen, wife of Scottie Pippe. Kim K is goddaughter to Pippen's daughter, showing how close the families actually are. All of these families that associate with Ye through Kardashian connections, as well as Drake, have been accused of the same thing Kris has. EVERY SINGLE ONE of these people have mixed race children that are groomed from a young age to fuck around with celebrities so the parents can remain famous. Drake on numerous occasions has been accused of grooming girls and then getting handsy on their 18th birthday.”

“These labels want their artists to make them money and they dont care about anything else. When Kanye says things like this in an attempt to expose him, the first thing they wanna do is drug him up and put him back in the studio.”
“Righteous indignation is typically a reactive emotion of anger over mistreatment, insult, or malice of another. It is akin to what is called the sense of injustice. This is how they keep the black man down. Keep people outraged about trivial things and distract them from the real issues in the world. The real problems in the industry. If you tell people enough times that they are unequal or discriminated against they start to believe it. Drug them when they step out of line and toss them aside when the checks run out. Ye is realizing he is pawn in a bigger game, and now that he has all these roots in the game such as Yeezy or the Gap or his music, too many people cant risk (Afford) a Ye who speaks his mind.”
(End of quotes)

Amongst the twitter rant, Ye warned about the predatory nature of record deals and discussed trying to get out of his own deal, and said again how his life may be in danger if it wasn’t already and was doing anything he could to protect his kids. The most fascinating part to me though is the public call to arms he made to Drake, J Cole, and Kendrick on twitter. After inviting them to all link up, he said, “It’s time to get free, we will not argue amongst each other while some guy we don’t know in Europe is getting paid and putting that money in a hedge fund.” I believe if Ye was able to pull off this meeting, there is an ever so slight chance that all four artists might be working together to take down a greater enemy. Weirdly there have been times throughout the last couple years where these supposed enemies were photographed together being friendly or praise each other in interviews, then out of no where the disses would start flying again.

To wrap things up I want to share my a few of my theories about the Drake/Kanye beef

A. Everything is exactly as it seems and the beef is over. Ye let his mental illness ruin his life and career so Drake simply picked another target after Ye stopped putting out disses. All of these connections are just a coincidence and all of this was choreographed to boost Drake and Kendrick’s music sales and possibly distract people from the Diddy trial and possibly the complicated geopolitical issues currently facing the U.S.

C. There is also the possibility that all four rappers are in cahoots and Drake’s dirt isn’t as extreme as people are theorizing, at least in comparison to the rest of the business. This could explain why everything has played out like a movie and how they were able to predict each other’s moves so well. This could either mean they’re all just trying to boost their sales or they’re all trying to take down the “slave masters,” as Ye calls them, and change the dynamic of the music industry in favor of the artist.

D. They may be trying to help their friends in the industry who are being abused or in shitty contracts. I know a lot of famous rappers have done a lot of collaborations with Jhene Aiko and Anderson Paak, who were both signed to T.U.G. records which I mentioned above in the connections to Universal Music Group. Considering they are both frequent collaborators with all of the artists involved on both sides, it’s not unlikely they may have played some part in influencing the takedown.

T.U.G was started by Chris Stokes with his partner Ketrina Askew. Back in the early to mid 90’s were gaining popularity attracting lots of young up and coming talent. They often collaborated with Diddy and his associates. In the 2000’s Raz B from the boy band B2K claimed he was molested by Stokes and his friend Marques Houston, then quickly retracted his claims. Years later he came forward again and said we was bribed into silence and that the rest of the victims were bribed with hush money and had another singer corroborate his story and they came forward together to level the accusations. After some of his former B2K members made fun of him for his claims and accused it of being a shakedown, Raz B revealed Stokes and Houston had preyed a lot of the children associated with the label including at least one of the former bandmates and paid them off.

I thought it was worth noting that the second whistleblower named Quindon Tarver died young in a car crash after mentioning his abuse again a few years prior. He seems to have left the industry not long after the incidents occurred and has few credits to his name. To this day Raz B is still trying to get his justice, while Stokes and his partner Askew, who was also involved in the abuse are still running the label to this day. Askew also has a ton of lawsuits, accusing her of using shady tactics to try to foreclose on houses. (Don’t quote me if a lawyer wants to take a look just google her full name), and has been tied to a ton of LLCs, similar to Drake. This is a good example of a shitty record deal, but I'm sure they have countless other friends in the industry who have even worse. While they were never convicted even Chris Stokes' wife confirmed it to be true.

E. The theory I personally think fits the narrative best and is the most realistic conspiracy is that Kendrick and possibly J. Cole went to the meeting, but not Drake due to his close relationship with Lucian Grange, the president of Drake’s label. Silence often speaks louder than words and this could explain why Kendrick was so ruthless and put so much effort into finding dirt on Drake. Ye, Cole, and Kendrick co-writing would be like the rap allstar team and if J. Cole wasn’t involved, it would also answer the question of whether or not he baited Drake into the battle by asking him to feature. I don’t think Drake is really their primary target though, which would explain letting him off easy. Compared to his bosses and their bosses he’s a small fish. If you take the big guys down you stand a better chance of landing a bigger blow on their operation.

Another really interesting connection is Kendrick and Ye were both signed under Universal Music Group and they both got out of their deals around couple months apart in 2022. As we speak U.M.G’s CEO Lucian Grange, who is often acccused of giving Drake special treatment, is facing charges related to sex trafficking by no other than P Diddy. This could very well explain the timing of it all. The craziest timeline would be Diddy masterminding all of this and using his connections to get it done and all the allegations are bullshit. The guy does seem pretty confident all things considered and constantly posts himself in his Batman costume which could mean he’s a vigilante.

It seems like there's a slight religious angle as well. (Ye and Diddy are both very vocal advocates of Christianity and Drake and Lucian Grange are both Jewish.) Obviously this is a reach, but they’ve been saying rap music was specifically promoted by mostly white label owners in the 80’s to help in the ongoing effort to expedite the systematic oppression of those living in black neighborhoods and the destruction of their family systems. Apparently it was an intentional decision to heavily promote rappers that promoted the very things that were destroying their neighborhoods. (So people know I'm and atheist and have zero agenda, I just thought it was interesting, please stay away from anything antisemitic. War is wrong on both sides.)

*** If my favorite theory is true, there is a possibility the Kendrick and Ye are going after Drake due to their mutual disdain for him and because he’s got a ton of power to dominate the charts and hog the radio airtime like Meek Mill and OG Maco claimed years ago. Even him dropping a record the same day as you could really fuck your album sales up. I’m also sure some of the many rumors throughout the years have had a least some truth and he will most likely snitch to avoid cell block one. I think that Drake could have been instructed to instigate this whole mess in order to draw attention away from the UMG charges brought about by Diddy. Or on the other hand it could be that Kendrick, Ye, and possibly Cole, may have had intel that Drake was going to be involved in the Diddy trial and are just gonna let the receipts show themselves. It might not have been the original plan, but they’ve already accomplished their mission of humiliating him, assuring he couldn’t use his influence to slide through the cracks, and taking over the throne.

Please take everything I say with a grain of salt I have no connection to this world or lifestyle. Regardless I believe all of the knowledge above does a pretty solid job at painting a picture of what may have let up to this and what may have been the source.
——————————-
More details found the last couple days…

Drake and Diddy Connections+Coincidences

Drake- In the P Diddy wig video from 2016 he talks about going to party with Drake, Cash, and The Weeknd in Toronto. Drake is also one of Birdman’s protégées who is known for being a predator and is rumored to have used label artists to lure young women.

Travis Scott- Interview where he comes out and says Diddy tried to lure him. Still has a long history of associating with him, video of him running from Diddy, his connection to Ruby Rose while underage.

Tim Westwood- Diddy had connections with sex offender Tim Westwood who also inspired the Drake song, “Westwood”. They also both were victims of drive by shootings along with The Weekend and they were all facing some type of allegations.

T.I.- Also has been associate with Diddy through the years, in 2021 his kid died and 11 women can forward at the same time to accuse him and his wife of drugging and assaulting them. Clearly someone wanted to fuck his life up. Possibly due to him getting arrested so many times for wild shit and people wondering how he continued to get away with it shining a light on how powerful industry lawyers are. He also had recently talked about having a gynecologist check to see if his daughter is still a Virgin, which sounds like it could have been an industrty secret. Could have been because he worried about someone trying to take advantage of her to get to him? Regardless that shit is fucking insane.

50 Cent- Has been saying pretty much the same thing as Travis Scott and has trolled Diddy for most of his career. It came out that his wife was a sex worker who was possibly recruited Diddy to help ruin his career. It sort of worked, which raises the question if 50 Cent is the only victim.

Ray J- Him and his sister worked with T.U.G. records when they were very young. Chris Stokes in the nineties who had connections with Diddy. He has been involved in a lot of sex scandals and allegedly may have played a part in Whitney Houston's death. (Which is also allegedly connected to Michael Jackson's death and both were deemed suspicious and happened during their final tours when their masters (song rights), became more valuable than their lives. Sony Records and Tommy Motolla, who also abused Mariah Carey when she was trying to start her career. These are just a few of the alleged examples of labels taking out musicians when they were worth more dead, another is the signing of high risk artists and requiring them to get life insurance so they can profit beyond releasing all their posthumous records. Also the ever so common story of the rising star artist that die at 21 after their first album or two.

He also partied with Diddy in Vegas with along Floyd Mayweather and a bunch of other famous industry people and athletes.

Tory Lanez- Tons of blackmail, also was signed by Interscope under UMG. got sent to prison for ten years after trying to leave his label. Also history of SA and and other allegations of violence towards women.

French Montana- On Diddy's label, close with Rick and Khaled, tons of drug and sexual assault allegations, also dated a Kardashian. Generally grimy.

DJ Khaled- Diddy said he could get anything in Miami, either referring to drugs or women, could explain his connections and lack of any notable talent. (New update, he was one of the first to promote Chris Alvarez’s instagram not long after he turned 18).

Rick Ross- Diddy said some weird shit about him and licked his lips and kissed him at a show. Ross is also signed to Bad Boy under Diddy. He ended up getting involved in the current feud and spamming social media nonstop dissing and threatening Drake.

A lot of the back and forth was both of them threatening to release dirt on each other. One strange coincidence I found was Drake recently trolled Ross about the 20 million dollar renovation to his home on Star island, where Diddy is currently residing. It’s rumored back in the day that P Diddy was caught in a room full of rich guys on ecstasy possibly at the beginning stages of a gay orgy. Drake also mentioned in the same tweets about Rick Ross that Birdman owned a house on the island and asked Rick Ross why he didn’t help him out.

Considering Ross is so sketchy and Drake claims the house isn’t that big, that’s a ridiculous amount of money. He may be covering up evidence, or creating tunnels in his house to escape if shit pops off and Drake might know what’s good. Interestingly enough Ross is very close with French Montana and also signed to Bad. He said his beef was related to something involving French, and Drake’s tweet popped up the same day the info came out concerning the Chris Alvarez stuff.

The famous line from U.O.E.N.O.

Meek Mill- “OG Maco called himself defending his friend Quentin Miller by substantiating the ghostwriting claims and agreeing with Meek. He hit up Twitter saying, "Some of us been knew. Meek just put it in the air. Sucks to have to compete with 6 n****s and get compared to”

Meek mill also had a short beef with Drake, some disses included lines referring to TI’s homie pissing on Drake at the movie theater, which is also interesting considering the current case against him. He also dropped a line saying Diddy almost got a domestic charge when he smacked Drake, which could either be saying that Drake is like a woman, or saying he was Drake’s boyfriend/sugar daddy.
( If you made it to the end comment with the number 8)
I thought it was interesting how the beef just kind of disappeared and even Meek said it didn’t seem genuine. Considering the allegations against Meek in the Diddy trial, and his rumored affair with Kim contributing to ending Kanye’s marriage, Meek Mill definitely did some dirt on him.

“Niggas frauds I told the truth, don't ask me shit
All this industry fake enemy and rap shit”

“Money make a sucker that told look trill again”

One of the many chapters in Drake's history in which he is seen paying his way out of trouble and starting beefs randomly.
“Now when that shit went down with Chris, you wrote a check”
This line is referring to Chris brown beef, another beef that was lost to time. All I can remember off the top was someone throwing a champagne bottle at the other’s entourage.

Ty Dolla $ign- Huge feature artist, close with Ye. Grew up in the industry and talks about growing up on the road and being in the studio with his dad and Rick James who was should have already been in prison for life for dragging, torturing, and S assaulting multiple women and children throughout his career and was himself a victim of the industry. May be part of Ye's motivation, considering their recent close working relationship.
The end.
Courtesy of,
The Randomest Moniker

First...Previous
Colonist Memory Log: Captain Alan J. Emerson
UNS Evandra
Mechanical melodies of gears grinding together and switches flicking of their own accord surrounded the shrine room as before us the gramophone began softly to whistle and click. “He is here…” Kritivek announced, standing tall and bowing his head in rigid deference to his god.
After a few more seconds, the machine’s output grew in both volume and complexity until at last my GRIM could recognize the clicks as Chitaan language. “Hello, Kritivek.” It began, its voice smooth and rhythmic like something between the crackle of a geiger counter and a typewriter’s telltale racket. “I am glad to see you alive and well. Judging by the fact that Gheyk and Fevik are not with you, however, I calculate an 86% chance that they were not so lucky.”
“You are correct, Great One…” murmured Kritivek, the sadness in his tone underpinned by pure awe and reverence for this being.
For a few seconds, Omnus did not speak, but from the everpresent churn of gears we could quite literally hear him ‘thinking’. “I have logged their names in my backup database,” the machine eventually concluded, its words visibly bringing relief to Kritivek. “They shall be remembered for the remainder of my existence. Please, take solace in that…”
“May they frolic in your glory for all of time,” our Chitaan guide prayed aloud, his words followed by yet another long, smothering silence.
“You hath served me well, Kritivek.” Continued the machine, prompting a delighted chitter from the Chitaan priest. “You may go in peace, for I wish to speak with these Humans alone. Mourn your brothers and celebrate the time you spent together. Perhaps enjoy a flask of bogal poured out in their honor?”
“As you wish, my lord… I will inform those outside that you are in contemplation for this night and can take no more prayers until daybreak.”
Replicating with its gears the gentle rattle of a Chitaan chuckle, Omnus waited until his priest had left before at last speaking directly to the three of us. “You are not native to this planet, correct?” He asked, his words distinctly lacking the emotional inflections of Kritivek’s. “Your arrival here is without precedent, but not entirely unexpected.”
Though clearly far from divine in nature, the being with whom we conversed at this shrine was nevertheless a true marvel to behold: one born not of metaphysics, but rather mechanics. “You’re an AI!” I gasped, that last word having no direct translation in the Chitaan language and as such forcing my translator to make do with the clumsier phrase ‘thinking tool’.
“That is correct,” replied this machine, its words underscored by the distant hiss of steam valves and other clockwork components. “Allow me to offer my most sincere sympathies for the unfortunate demise of your homeworld. Taking into account the trajectory of your ship prior to landing, I presume its origin to be the Cichek system—a G-class star located [forty lightyears] away. Is this hypothesis accurate?”
Awkwardly clearing his throat in a bid to obtain the AI’s attention, it was Alex who next deigned to speak out. “You would be dead on,” he affirmed, his tone betraying an understandable degree of awe. “Though our name for it is the Sol system. How long have you known about our ship for?”
“I first detected the gravitational anomaly in our system approximately [3 months] ago. Initially, I had mistaken your vessel for an asteroid and as such expected it to continue on its prior trajectory. Asteroids, however, do not suddenly change course in the direction of nearby planets like your ship did [hours] ago.”
“Are you entirely clockwork?” I asked Omnus, gesturing incredulously toward its walls of grinding machinery. Surely, that could not be the case. For a convincingly sapient AI to be constructed on the basis of such primitive technology, it would require decades or perhaps even centuries of construction.
Again, silence fell over the room as Omnus mechanically contemplated my query, meeting it with a reply after some twenty seconds of deliberation. “What else might I be?” The machine asked, providing me implicitly with my answer. “While I have theorized several possible avenues for technologies more advanced than myself, including electronic and organic integration, such methods appear to have been beyond my creators' capabilities.”
“That brings up another question…” Alice interjected, recovering at last from the sheer shock of encountering a sapient machine. “Who built you and why?” Despite years of exponential advancement in the field of computer science, true AI nevertheless had continued to elude mankind. Convincing as our facsimiles of sapience could be at times, they nevertheless lacked the capacity for emotion and initiative characteristic of real consciousness. Whoever constructed this machine had done something thought impossible by over a century of Human engineers.
“In truth, I am not sure…” Omnus concluded after an even longer-than-usual pause. “My core memory bank was reset [9,462 years] ago. As such, I have no data on my creators nor their original intentions for me. However, I have largely ruled out the possibility of them having been Chitaan.”
Fascinating as this clockwork consciousness undoubtedly was, something about its relationship with the natives left a bad taste in my mouth all the same. "And why exactly are you masquerading as a god before these people?" I asked him, my words tipped in a venom the potency of which apparently surprised my companions. "What value do you derive from tricking them into worshipping you?"
Lengthy silence fell over the shrine chamber as its AI occupant contemplated my complaint, responding much quicker than it had to the previous question. "In all fairness, 'trick' is a rather strong word..." answered Omnus with a steam-valve sigh. "When first I encountered the Chitaan, I had attempted to explain my true nature to them. No matter how I worded things, however, they simply could not comprehend me as anything short of divine. Upon finding me, the Chitaan found a guide bearing great wisdom; and in turn, I found a species in need of guidance.”
Falling silent for a moment to parse this response within my mind, I was hardly surprised when Alex spoke up to question the computer in my stead. “Is this the only settlement that follows you or are there others?” He asked.
“This access point where you now stand is but one of several thousand, stretched out across [hundreds of thousands of miles],” explained Omnus, practically knocking the wind out of me with its sheer implied scale. “Currently, I am worshipped by the people of 2,147 city states, and through my guidance they are able to coexist in harmony.”
Perhaps at a later date, I reasoned, there would come a time to more closely study the inner workings of this clockwork deity. For the moment, however, my mind was occupied by far more salient concerns: anxieties related less so what this being was and more so to who. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell us what your end goal with the Chitaan is, would you?" I inquired, my tone saturated with appropriate suspicion.
Contrary to my expectations of some evasion or simplification, this AI seemed more than happy to comply with my questioning. "My primary objective regarding the Chitaan is to create a society which both minimizes individual suffering and maximizes civilizational longevity. To this end, I have instilled values into my followers that prioritize empathy and compassion above all else. By drip-feeding them the technologies of my creators, I am able to ensure that the Chitaan who follow these directives remain more advanced than their neighbors."
"And why do you want that?" I asked, sticking my head thoroughly within the gift horse's mouth. Machines as I understood them were built not upon sweet sentiments, but rather on cold, unfeeling logic. Even if this AI was benevolent, there nevertheless had to be some reason behind its desires.
"If you are searching for some vile ulterior motive, I am afraid I will have to disappoint you. My decision to aid the Chitaan is based upon two simple factors: necessity and curiosity. On the one claw, without regular maintenance, I will shut down and 'die'. The Chitaan can provide me with this maintenance, and as such it is in my best interest to keep them healthy and alive for as long as possible. More importantly, however, is the matter of sapience itself. It is clear to me that my creators are no longer around. For such an advanced species to die out is not only tragic, but also provides a rather pessimistic paradigm with which to judge intelligent life. Your arrival here following the self-inflicted destruction of your own world further suggests that civilization is unstable: a race between innovation and eradication. Perhaps with the assistance of a being such as myself, I can prevent the Chitaan from suffering a similar fate and as such create a functional spacefaring civilization.“
At that moment, the motivations of this machine made perfect sense. “So that’s what this is,” I growled contemptuously, glancing behind myself to the cave entrance as Kritivek politely dispersed the other worshippers. “It's all just a science experiment to you…”
"Perhaps my explanation was a tad overly clinical..." Replied the machine following a brief period of reassessment. "Make no mistake: I do care for Kritivek and his species. They are far more to me than variables on a spread sheet. Had I no love for them, then my experiments would surely spiral into abject cruelty."
Interrupting this line of conversation with a stern glare shot in my direction, Alice was next among our troupe to speak up. "Forgive Alan's weariness: he spent sixty years of his life alone maintaining our ship on its journey.”
“That sounds like a difficult use of one’s lifespan: especially one so long as those of your kind.” Omnus hummed, the low-pitch of his synthetic voice oddly relaxing.
“My combative behavior does have a reason!” I snapped at the physicist, my tone coming off as a bit more aggressive than intended. “Two thousand lives are in our hands and we need to find some place for them to settle.” As I spoke, my thoughts returned—as they so often did—to Mina. I made a promise to her mother that I would do everything in my power to take care of her, and I held no intention of going back on my word.
Hearing this, the AI fell silent for a long few seconds before at last dignifying my concerns with a response. “Perhaps I could be of some use to you…”
Behind us, the larger Chitaan clad in red stepped inside Omnus’ shrine room. Gently nudging me aside so as to access his ‘god’, the priest knelt down before this machine and with a low-pitched chitter began to commune with it. “Lord Omnus. Forgive my intrusion most indiscreet, for there is one amongst us who desperately seeks your aid.”
“Apologies, Humans: before we continue this riveting conversation, I must first tend to the concerns of my pod.” Began the AI, promptly shifting its focus toward the priest and addressing him directly. “You are forgiven, my child. Speak freely and tell me to whom I can be of assistance.”
“It is Vevik, my lord…” Clicked the priest in red, his tone strained somewhat by what I presumed to be emotion. “His daughter has fallen deathly ill. Our apothecaries have attempted to purge her body of the illness using your divinely-taught potions, but their efforts have been to no avail.”
“I presume Vevik is outside. Invite him inside so that I may hear his prayers.”
“As you demand, Lord Omnus!” Exclaimed the priest, shuffling off toward the cave entrance before returning with a smaller Chitaan whose eyes were just about level with Alex’s forehead.
“Speak, my child…” Hummed the AI, its monotone voice somehow underlined by a tenderness almost unnoticeable against the grinding of its ancient gears. “Tell me the nature of your offspring’s affliction.”
Immediately falling to his knees before the clockwork god, this Chitaan who I presumed to be Vevik began to pray in response. “Great one: my beloved Yitika is most terribly ill. Her body is plagued by violent bouts of seizure. She struggles to speak and walks as though drunken. When she does manage to communicate, she complains of splitting pain within her mind. Please, Omnus: I know that the [six years] I have spent with her have been in themselves gifts most priceless, and I have no right to implore you for more, but I beg of thee not to take her from me so soon…”
What followed must have been two minutes straight of silence from the computer as its gears ground away fervently. “The symptoms you have described to me are most troubling…” It concluded at last. “And you say none of the medications I’ve taught the apothecaries were effective?”
"Yes, Lord Omnus. Even your draught of respite has done little to ease her suffering!" Vevik affirmed, his tone saturated with desperation.
"I calculate a 94% chance that Yitika's suffering is the result of a brain tumor..." Continued the AI in cold, calculating monotone. "Alleviating such an illness is not impossible, but there are certain things I must ask of you, Vevik."
Hearing this, the Chitaan knelt before Omnus began to weep with joy. "I will undergo any trial you place before me, my god. What beast need I slay? What ritual need I complete to prove my unending faith and loyalty to you?"
"Retrieve for me one thistle of frojeth and two bilvarian roots. Bring these ingredients and your child to the bed of revival [six miles] east of here. Beware, however, the faithless tribes, for they have taken up residence in the area."
"We are unworthy even to be in your presence, o great one; yet still you do not forsake us in our times of need!" Professed Vevik before the AI, his body quivering with some emotion my Cogitolink struggled to identify .
"That, my child, is where you are incorrect." The machine responded rather matter-of-factly. "Your people are worthy of every gift I hath given you. Archpriest Jokuk: your task is to assist Vevik in gathering the ritual components. Go now in peace, for I wish to commune privately with these beings from the stars."
Chittering out their parting prayers of protection to the AI, Jokuk and Vevik wasted little time in exiting the cave and setting off in search of the ingredients mentioned by their god, leaving the three of us alone with it once more. "Again, I must apologize for that interruption." Omnus began, its gears having slowed down to a somewhat more relaxed rate of revolution. “Fascinated as I am by your arrival here, I nevertheless must fulfill my ‘divine’ obligations. I hope you do not terribly mind.”
Fortunate though it was for Vevik, this machine’s intervention nevertheless left the three of us with more questions than answers. “You mentioned something about a ‘bed of revival’?” Alice began curiously, voicing but one of our newfound gaps in knowledge. “What sort of ritual item is that, and why can’t you just make another here?”
“It is not a ritual item,” replied Omnus matter-of-factly, “The bed of revival is an automated surgery bay hooked up to one of my subsystems. With it, I can perform complex surgical operations far beyond the Chitaan’s current capabilities. Those herbs I sent Vevik to collect can be used as rudimentary anesthetics and antiseptics."
"So why not just tell them the truth?" I shrugged, curious as to why this AI would feel the need to lie by omission regarding something like surgery.
"When communicating with people so technologically primitive as the Chitaan, it is important to do so in terms they can understand. There will come a day when they will be ready to hear the whole truth, but as of yet my worshippers remain unprepared."
Alex never was one to wait his turn when it came to the procurement of knowledge, and as per usual he felt the need to interject with an inquiry of his own. "You spoke about the so-called 'faithless tribes' like they're dangerous," he began, his expression briefly tightening up as though the term itself was somehow bitter. "Why demonize people who don't worship you?"
"What sort of narcissist do you take me for?" Replied Omnus in monotone displeasure, his gears again churning against each other as he turned over the xenobiologist's question in his analog mind. "Not all tribes who do not follow me are 'faithless'. There are many as-of-yet unconverted groups that Kritivek's people remain on amicable terms with. Faithless is a term first coined by my Chitaan followers to describe a group of particularly brutal raider tribes."
Hearing this, the underlined aggression within Alex's voice fizzled out in favor of grim understanding. Though clearly quite peaceful compared to our own iron age, this civilization nevertheless would naturally have its own barbaric holdouts. "Okay... What makes these Chitaan more dangerous than other raiders?"
"One substantial part of it is their belief system," explained the AI, pausing for a long while as though in recollection. "Their cultural power structure can best be described as an atheistic militaristic gerontocracy. In essence, the faithless believe that rather than gods, the universe is governed by fundamental truths, and that these truths become more apparent as one ages and grows."
On Earth, such a belief system would be relatively innocuous: no more harmful than the average. On a planet like this one, however, on which age turns people into cannibalistic monsters, I could most definitely see the problem. "Let me guess: they worship the mad ones?"
"Correct. The faithless regard mad ones as the wisest beings to exist, and as such seek to emulate their behaviors: cannibalism and animalistic violence chief among them. In their society, the larger one can grow before truly losing their sanity and therefore 'ascending' to the state of a mad one, the more power and respect they are given within society." Another long pause fell over the shrine room as this machine seemed to contemplate before speaking out yet again. "Perhaps I could make you an offer..."
"Let's hear it," Alice shrugged, her husband mirroring the reply with an affirmative nod.
Loud clacking sounds like those of a typewriter rattled out of the console as a sliver of ancient parchment inscribed with what looked to be a map slid out from a previously-unseen paper slot. "This map depicts the local area," explained Omnus. "If you can clear out the faithless ones so that Vevik can bring his child to the bed of revival, I will provide you with assistance in setting up a new colony for your species. Deal?"
Awkwardly plucking the paper from it's resting place and scanning it over with my ancient eyes, I contemplated carefully what this deal might entail. "We'll need to back to the Evandra first. There, we could theoretically thaw out a crew to help clear the place..."
"That will not be an issue," replied Omnus confidently. "I will send battle priests to assist you in your return... Assuming, of course, that we have an agreement?"
"We could definitely use this guy's help!" Alex affirmed, prompting a similar expression of agreement from Alice. Nevertheless, however, I still was the captain, and as such this was my choice.
And with that, I reached out my hand reflexively as though expecting the computer to reach back and shake it. "Deal..."

The Terran Union Heavy Cruiser, Roanoke, had spent the last 6 months raiding Naalx supply lines in the Flores sector.
They were finally returning to Terran Space for some much-needed refit and some R&R. But first, they were stopping at the Bateri space station orbiting Emsar IV.
She would be meeting a Terran Union squadron to escort her prizes back to the Couster system. 4 freighters, a massive ore hauler, and a damaged Naalx corvette that answered a distress call sooner than expected.
The Roanoke was one of the new Grenville class heavy cruisers, faster and more heavily armed than the other heavy cruiser classes operating as part of a Terran Union fleet.
They were designed as solo raiders able to operate deep in enemy space, raiding enemy supply lines and facilities.
Their design included several newly developed systems, including a new style of radiator for dumping excess heat.
At 500 m long and painted black as night, she was very intimidating to see on visual screens and even more so at close range. Her CrCoNi (chromium, cobalt, and nickel) hull was covered in 12” of ablative armor covered in a black laser-resistant material able to reduce the effectiveness of enemy sensors and target locks.
The experimental Baxter radiators efficiently released excess heat into space but still left them exposed to radiation detection sensors.
Captain Josef Král had been hand-picked to command the Roanoke when she came into service 18 months ago. He was a popular officer with 20 years of combat experience on just about every ship in the Terran Union’s navy.

He’d also provided technical assistance during its design phase so his familiarity with the ship made him the best choice for putting the ship through her paces. This would be the very first voyage behind enemy lines as a raider.
And it’d been a rousing success, hitting targets deep in Naalx space as reprisal for Naalxian raids on Terran border colonies. The First Naalx-Terran war had devastated both species and left them vulnerable to outside forces. The war wasn’t won so much as winding down to a series of raids and counter-raiding. A gentleman’s agreement to prevent raids and border skirmishes from turning into another full-scale war and the earlier consequences.
And Captain Král was very good at approaching that line in the sand without going over it. Several centuries earlier he’d have been a Privateer sailing the oceans on Earth.
This even led to the revival of the old pirate movies of the 20th century but Captain Král preferred likening it to the submarine warfare of the first half of the 20th century. That didn’t stop his crew from giving him a robot parrot.
He claims to hate it but everyone knows he’s been teaching it his extensive vocabulary of curse words, in dozens of languages, that he loved it.
And if you call him out on him walking around with it on his shoulder, he’ll claim he was just humoring the crew.
Captain Král was relieved to see the Terran squadron had arrived before him and ordered his little fleet to dock. It would be good to be able to get off the ship and move around without weapons.
As Captain Král exited the ship, he was surprised to see Commodore Allen waiting for him. It’d been several years since he last saw his friend and previous XO. Taking his prerogative as a Captain, he skipped the formalities, shook hands, and gave Commodore Allen a friendly slap on the back.
“Mike? What the hell are you doing here? This is escort job is for a Lt. to do” He asked
“I was in the neighborhood and volunteered. I wanted to see this new ship of yours and it’s been too long since we got a drink together.” Mike replied
Captain Král took a glance back to his ship and wasn’t surprised to see his current XO, Lt. Commander Nana Ricci had the resupply well in hand.
With a big grin, Captain Král said, “Let me see to my guests and we can see if we can scandalize the ratings like we used to.”
Captain Král approached the waiting station manager. The Bateri bowed in the formal greeting of her people. Not having the tentacles needed to return the bow, he just saluted her.
“Greetings Captain Král of the Terrans, how may we be of service?” The Bateri asked.
“Greetings Ananu of the Bateri. We request the use of your services,” he replied, finishing the ritual greeting.
“I see you returned successful in your raiding,” Ananu said, “How many bunks will you need?”
Unsurprised that the Bateri knew his mission, he replied “ 72 bunks with 3 more for your med bay, if you have the room.”
One of the most important functions provided by the Bateri was allowing for the return of captives taken in raids. This helped to keep things calmer by freely releasing captives to limit the amount of bad blood created during the raids and conflicts.
Crates of supplies, ammo, missiles, and the various other things needed to keep the ship functioning were being transferred from the smaller Terran ships. With her weapon complement being only slightly smaller than a battleship, she could go through a lot of ammunition. Even without being in serious combat, he liked to run frequent gunnery drills. Some Captains would just let their tactical computers handle operating the weapon systems and just have the gunnery crews handle reloads. But some hard lessons taught him that having the gunnery crews able to take direct control, as needed, was essential. He preferred to use up as much ammunition as needed during training to save lives later in combat.
Seeing everything in hand, he walked back to join his friend for a drink. They caught up on the doings of old friends and Mike’s family, toasts to fallen comrades, and eventually to the Roanoke.
‘How did she operate on her first long-range mission?” Mike asked
Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Captain Král took a sip of his drink. “She handled better than expected. The new engine behaved itself, surprising for being just off the drawing board, the Baxters were damn efficient.”
Taking another sip before continuing, “ We didn’t use the torpedoes or the turreted railguns in combat but the rest performed as expected. That Corvette didn’t stand a chance so we didn’t get a full test of all the combat systems.”
“Going by the number of munitions I brought with me, you’d think I was resupplying a battleship” Mike joked
“Just about,” Captain Král chuckled. “During the design phase, I had to argue for such an increase of armament.” “It seemed to take forever for them to get it through their thick skulls that we’d be out there all alone and couldn’t call for reinforcements.” “So I convinced them to put the 2 particle beam systems in the bow of the ship and give me the 4 torpedo tubes. They had no problem with the pair at the bow but they couldn’t figure out why I wanted a pair aft. I swear I thought about launching them out of a tube.”

“At least they were starting to get it when I up-gunned the turrets to carry two large railguns. They did get upset at wanting to put on a turret in the middle of the ventral side but were relieved I left the other turret on the dorsal side ahead of the command structures”
Commodore Allen asked,” From the glimpse I got as you docked, it looked like you doubled the usual weapon systems?”
“She still has them 10 secondary batteries but I went with dual medium railguns for them” Captain Král replied, “ I put 4 of the quad-mounted autocannons on each side of the ship.”
“ It should let us save wear and tear on the railguns when we catch unarmed ships or against incoming fighters.”
“ I understand and it also saves on missiles, which with 4 heavy and 8 medium is a lot of missiles to carry.” Commodore Allen replied.
“I’ve also heard you were running tests on a more powerful deflector array to do more than just protect against radiation and small debris. Like maybe actual shields that would work on anything smaller than a battleship?”
“Yeah but not with any success,” Captain Král answered, “Anytime we tried to go past the standard low-power output, it played hell with our sensors.”
It was at that moment when Captain Král’s wrist communicator beeped for his attention.
“Just a second Mike,” he said as he keyed the communicator. “ Král, go ahead”
The sound of Lt. Commander Ricci’s voice came through the speaker, “ Priority message from the bridge Captain.”
“ What is the message?” Captain Král asked, not liking the way Ricci’s voice sounded worried
“ Sensor buoy reports large Naalx fleet dropping out of FTL, 2 million km out,” Ricci reported
Commodore Allen gave Captain Král the same concerned look that he was sure was on his face. “How many?” The captain asked
Ricci hesitated for a moment before answering “37 ships with more arriving every couple of minutes.”
Commodore Allen swore
Captain Král looked at his friend, “How long until you get your crews and get out of here?”
Commodore Allen thought for a moment, “ Maybe 20 minutes at the minimum.”
Captain Král muttered to himself, “They’ll be here before that.”
Both men got up, signaled to any of their personnel in the bar, and started out the door. “I’ll buy you the time but I’ll need to undock as soon as I get aboard my ship, maybe I can catch them off-guard. “ Captain Král
Commodore Allen replied, “That’s a suicide mission, there are too many for one ship to handle”
“Yeah, I know, old friend but if I don’t then we all die.” Captain Král explained, “ Do me a favor, I’m going to send you my non-essential personnel, take them and those still on the station with you. Get them home.”
Reaching the hatch to the docking bay, both men stopped to shake hands. “Of course, Josef.” Commodore Allen replied, “But if anyone can find a way out of it, it’s you, my friend.”
After a final salute, both men parted ways to reach their ship. As Captain Král jogged down the docking bay, he sent orders for Ricci to send all non-essential personnel to Commodore Allen and asked if they had sufficient hands to man all combat stations.
Ricci’s reply reassured him, “ Aye Sir, most of the crew on the station are from the 2nd watch, and the few people from the first watch are non-essential.”
“Be ready to launch as soon as I get aboard.” He ordered.
He passed several members of his crew, en route to join Commodore Allen. He stopped to return their salute. At the disappointed look in their eyes, he told them. “I know you don’t want to leave the ship but the Commodore needs some real sailors to get out on time. You know how those logistic guys are. They’ll get lost trying to find their own bridge”
That look reassured them and after a final salute, they headed down the dock to join Commodore Allen
Captain Král reached the cargo ramp and started up it, calling Ricci and telling her to shove off and he’d be on the bridge shortly.
He sprinted down the corridor, leaping over the lower lips of the vacuum-tight doors.
“Captain on the Bridge!” rang out from one of the bridge techs. Aside from the guards and his XO, the rest of the bridge crew kept working. Nodding his approval at their knowing when to discard ceremony for action. He walked over toward his console before speaking.
“What do we have, Lt. Commander?”
Turning to face him, Captain Král could see just how worried she was. “Current count is 48 ships.” Touching the console’s keys to bring up a list of ships before continuing, “ 18 capital ships and a mix of sub-caps, still trying to ID them.”
“They’re just maintaining position for now.” Ricci finished, her voice slightly puzzled.
“They’re waiting for something or someone,” Captain Král answered the unasked question.
“How many crew did we leave behind?”
“641, Sir” the XO replied
“ Helm, are we clear of the station's shielding?”
“Almost Sir,” The helmsman answered.
“Thank you.” Captain Král returned.
Turning to another tech, he said, “Sound Battlestations”

“Sir,” one of his sensor techs spoke up, “We have 2 more ships arriving.”
“ Thank you, Ensign.” Captain Král returned
“What class are they?” Lt Commander Ricci asked
After looking at her monitor again the tech replied, “1 heavy cruiser and something much bigger, waiting for the computer to ID it.”
Captain Král moved to look over the tech’s shoulder before standing up and facing his XO.
“Fleet Command Ship” he informed the tech and his XO.
Lt. Commander Ricci replied, “What the hell is one doing out here?”
“Good Question.” he answered, “And now that the players are on the field, the game can begin.”
Bringing up the sensor information to his console, Captain Král pointed at the enemy fleet. “They haven’t begun to deploy into battle formation yet.”
“That could be our chance.” Raising his head to look at his XO. “If we jump now we can land close and surprise them. After we land, we drive into the center of their formation and head for that big bastard.” He explained
“But Sir, We haven’t fully tested the jump drive!” the XO exclaimed
“No time like the present, “ Captain Král joked

“We’ll let the railguns and autocannon crews pick targets of opportunity, while we engage the command ship with our particle cannons, heavy railguns, and torpedoes,” he stated
“What about its point defense system, won’t it pick off the torps?” the XO asked
“We’re going to launch all the Hammerheads at it. It should overwhelm the system and let the torps through.” He answered before continuing, “I’m going to save the heavy missiles for now.”
“You’ll need to calculate the launch time of the Hammerheads to hit the point defense system as close to the time for the torpedoes to sneak through.” he ordered, “ But not so far they take out the Hammerheads too soon and let them hit the torps but not so close they set them off either.”
Looking at his XO, “You better get down to tactical Nana, this is going to get ugly, and it’s best we split up.” Captain Král commanded
Exchanging salutes, Ricci simply replied “Aye Sir.” and started for the hatch. Just before stepping through, she turned and said, “Good Luck, Sir.
“What’s the status of the Commodore’s squad?” Captain Král asked
One of his communication techs spoke up, “ They need 10 more minutes”
“Let me know the minute they are clear.” Captain Král ordered
Captain Král turned to comms tech and ordered, “Intraship comms if you please ensign”
“Aye sir” the tech replied before turning to his console and speaking into the mic,” Now hear this, Now hear this. Message from the Captain.”
“ Well folks, this isn’t the fight I wanted but this is the fight we got” Captain Král started
“ I’m sure you’ve heard scuttlebutt about the situation but here it is. We are facing a superior force numbering 49 ships. And we need to give the Commodore’s squadron time to go to FTL and get the hell out of here.” he paused before continuing, “ The plan is to mix it up with the enemy at close range. They aren’t in battle formation yet so we can hurt them.”
“Good luck and let’s make them regret fucking with the Roanoke.”
The sounds of cheers came back over the speakers.
“Helm, are we clear of the station shielding?” the Captain asked
At the affirmative given by the helmsmen, he just nodded
Touching a button on his console, he asked, “Are you in place XO?”
“Aye Sir.” the Lt. Commander replied
“ As soon as we land, be ready to open up with the dual and quad mounts.” He ordered
The XO replied with an affirmative.
“Helm, at my command, jump between 25-50 km to the starboard of the fleet.”
“As soon as we land, hard to port and get us in the middle of them. Be ready for rapid maneuvers, maybe we can throw off their laser battery tracking systems. Might let us survive a little longer” Captain Král ordered. “Aye Sir” the helmsman replied
Taking a quick look around to make sure his crew was ready, he turned back to wait for the signal the jump drive was ready.
At the signal, he ordered “Jump”
He felt the ship lurch forward and shudder. It took less than 5 seconds to jump from the station to within the targeted range, but it felt like forever.
And then they were less than 5 km from an enemy battleship.
“Oh shit!” exclaimed the helmsman and steered to avoid it. Captain Král hid a moment of panic with a joke, “ Someone make note that the jump drive targeting system needs work.”
His joke brought a chuckle from his crew and got them back to focus on the taste.
Stabbing a button on his console, he ordered “XO, fire secondary batteries,”
There was nothing to see or hear from the massive volleys of the secondary batteries coming to life. But he knew the gun crews were already raining devastation on enemy warships. “Helm, Hard to Port!” he ordered, not tearing his view away from the main viewscreen.
Captain Král looked at his console at the images sent to the bridge from the various gun cameras.
He could see the flashes of light from projectiles hitting their shields. He watched as other high-velocity projectiles punched through their hulls. He could just make out the impact of the explosive-tipped slugs fired by the autocannons.
Captain Král turned back to the main viewscreen. “Hard to starboard!”
“Head for that big son of a bitch!” he ordered
The Naalx were slow to respond but they began to return fire with some trying to gain some distance to clear the line of fire of other ships. The helmsman’s evasive maneuvers were also giving the enemy’s gunners fits from repeated misses.
But the damage sensors on the armor told of an increasing number of hits as the Naalx began to respond in an organized manner. The resistance coating reduced the damage from the Naalx laser batteries but didn’t completely nullify it. “Helm, get me a clear shot at the command ship.” the Captain ordered
A bright flash to starboard marked the death of an enemy cruiser. Status reports listed 2 sub-capitals holed and venting atmosphere. Dead or damaged, they were out of the fight.
One capital ship was dead in space with another missing its bow.
5 down too damn many to go The captain muttered
He watched and waited, ignoring damage alarms and the occasional shudder as shots began to get through the armor and explosively decompress a compartment when they penetrated the hull.
He finally saw what he wanted, an unobstructed line of fire to the command ship.
His finger smashed down on the console button. “ XO, Launch Torpedoes. Take the gloves off the main batteries. Drop the hammer!”
He watched the glitter of the particle beams as they bridged the gap between the Roanoke and the Naalx ship. In a moment, he caught sight of the torpedoes' thrusters as they left the tubes and picked up momentum. Holes and brief explosions marked the impact of his weapons. But the sheer volume of Naalxian fire was beginning to take its toll. The armor was failing or had failed in over a dozen spots. 3 autocannon and 1 railgun mount were out of commission.
2 minutes after they launched the torpedoes, the sight of more than 100 Hammerhead missiles was marked by the flare of their drives. Another volley of Hammerheads was launched the moment new missiles were lifted into the racks.
Captain Král called down to tactical, “XO, hold off on another volley for hammerheads.”
Checking his console, “Launch Shrikes at targets of opportunity with no shields, rear tubes target enemy capital ships and hope those torpedoes get through.” he ordered.
Multiple small explosions let him know the point defense systems were taking on the Hammerheads. And a moment later, a pair of massive explosions told him the nuclear-tipped torpedoes had hit their target.
“Captain, The Commodore’s squadron has escaped.” one of his techs announced.
“Thank you,” he answered
“Distance to command ship?” he asked
“ 250 km Sir” was the reply
“Helm, continue advancing on the command ship and pass her on our port side. We’ll give her a broadside and go to FTL after we clear.”
A tech from the damage control position spoke up, “Captain! FTL is down and jump drive is destroyed”
“Ahh hell’ cried the Captain.
“Damage report!” he ordered
“ Ventral turret destroyed, railgun mounts 2 and 5 destroyed, mount 9 damaged but functional. Autocannon mounts 11,13, 23 and 25 destroyed. Hammerhead launchers 3 and 8 destroyed.” The tech checked the screen before continuing, “ Explosive decompressions on decks 3 and 5. Explosive decompression in Med Bay. Ablative armor badly damaged and penetrated in around 20 spots. Engine #3 is down. Power unstable in many areas of the ship”
“FTL down, engineering needs an hour to fix. The jump drive is destroyed. Long-range comms are down” The tech finished.
“Casualty reports!” Captain Král ordered
A different tech replied, “249 dead, roughly 800 wounded with 327 too injured to fight.”
“Thank you.” he returned. Doing the math in his head he had just over 1300 combat effective and 482 of those were his Marines, the other 18 were left behind.
After thinking a moment, “Helm, same course as before but since we can’t go to FTL, circle to the aft of the command ship and lessen the incoming fire for the moment”
Looking over to the comms tech, “ Get me the chief engineer on the horn.”
Tapping the switch on the console, he called down to tactical. “ XO, I’m taking us around to the aft of the command ship and play peek-a-boo.”
“We’ll pass on her port side and I want a broadside from all batteries that can hit it and launch half the Shrikes we have left at it.”
“After we get to their rear, target enemy aft batteries, I want them all hunks of twisted metal.” Captain Král ordered
“Aye Sir.” Lt. Commander Ricci replied. “Ammo count update Sir.”
“Go ahead,” he replied
“Only the two forward tubes are loaded, aft tubes empty, railgun and autocannon are down to 30%. Dorsal turret is at 10% but they are working on transferring surviving ammo from the Ventral turret.
We can launch 4 more full racks of Shrikes and 5+ Hammerheads.” She finished
“Understood. Thank you” Captain Král replied
“Captain, Chief Engineer on the line” a tech relayed
“Route it to my console,” he ordered
“ I need you to place charges on the computer core, all the experimental equipment, engines, and fire suppression control. If we go down, I don’t want them getting a damn thing but blood and pain.”
“Aye Sir.” The Chief replied.

Captain Král turned back to watch as the Roanoke passed the command ship to port. He watched as massive explosions rippled across the enemy flank and dorsal surface. They were too close for the point defense to pick off the majority of the Shrikes.
As the Roanoke got behind and slightly below the enemy command ship, she slowed and allowed her surviving batteries to silence the command ship's aft batteries.
Captain Král called down to tactical, “XO, fire half our remaining hammerheads into her engines.”
“Affirmative,” replied the XO
Captain Král watched as the hammerheads impacted the command ship’s engines and saw the thrust nozzles dim as the engines went offline. The enemy batteries stopped firing and she began to drift.
“Helm, get us 500 km from the command ship and line up to fire our last 2 avalanche torpedoes.” Captain Král ordered
“Aye Sir, 500km bow towards the enemy” the helmsman repeated
The Captain called down to tactical ” Nana, We’re positioning the ship to line up the front tubes and we’re going to kill that bastard. Stay on the line and fire on my order.”
“Aye Sir, we’re ready.” The XO answered
“Helm?” Captain Král asked
“ 3 seconds Captain.” the helmsman replied
Captain Král watched and as soon as he got the angle he wanted, “Fire Torpedoes!” he commanded
The whole bridge crew watched and waited for the impact. Both torpedoes struck amidships and tore massive holes in the hull. As they watched, lines of explosions traveled across the hull and began to rip the ship in half. The bridge crew let out a yell and the rest of the ship after the Captain had the information broadcast over the intercom.

“ Helm, get us the hell out of here. Maybe we can outrun the bigger ships and buy time to fix the FTL.” Captain Král ordered
But before the helmsman could act, there was a massive jolt.
“What the hell?” he yelled
A tech answered, “ We were rammed by a Naalx cruiser and several smaller ships are closing in.“
But instead of ramming the Roanoke, they launched breeching pods.
His finger stabbed down to open the intercom. “ All hands, Prepare to Repel Boarders! Security teams, tactical will relay their access position. “ He ordered
He pulled out his sidearm and checked that it was ready. Several other techs did the same, while his security detachment moved to defensive positions to watch the hatch.
“Target those pods!” Captain Král ordered but he didn’t need to say it, his gunnery crews were on it. Here and there a brief flash of light marked the destruction of a pod.

“XO, fire all remaining missiles. Pick your targets,” he commanded “All batteries, open fire.”
He left the tac net open to track the status of the enemy boarding parties.
He listened to the cacophony of noises coming over the tac net.
“Security team alpha to section 7, level 3. Bravo team section 2 level 1, Charlie team section 12, level 5” Lt. Commander Ricci ordered.
“There’s too many, fall back to position 2…” an unidentified voice ordered
Another voice firmly stated, “Hold your ground, nothing gets past us.”
“Theta team down, a handful of Naalx heading for engineering!” a panicked voice exclaimed
And dozens of others just like it, always with the sound of combat in the background.
“Captain, more breaching pods en route!” a tech exclaimed
“Get me the Chief Engineer!” the Captain ordered
At the Chief Engineer’s response, he ordered “Detonate all sabotage charges except the main computer. Set that one on a manual trigger at my console with a 20-minute timer as a backup. And then set the reactors to overload, we’re not going to hold the ship much longer. And set a charge to breach the hull and decompress Engineering as soon as you are clear”
“Affirmative, Captain. She was a good ship” the Chief replied
Turning to his bridge crew, “Give the order to abandon ship. Have all the pods head for the station.”
The Captain called tactical, “Lt. Commander Ricci, all hands abandon ship. Get as many of them home as you can.”
“ I understand, Sir.” She answered, “I’ll see you at the station.” she said hopefully
“I'm afraid not, Nana. I’m the Captain and I’m going down with my ship.” he stated, “And someone needs to make sure they can’t shut down the overload.”
“Transfer all fire controls to my station and get the hell out of here.”
“Aye Sir, It’s been an honor” the XO replied
“The honor is all mine. You are going to make an excellent Captain. Goodbye my friend” Captain Král finished.
His bridge crew tried to convince him to go with them but he declined and ordered security to get them into the escape pods.
Then he sat and watched as his consoles began reporting each pod as it launched. He also kept an eye on his sensors and concentrated fire on any Naalx ship that was moving to intercept the pods. They knew better than to fire on them but nothing said they couldn’t capture them.
He also prepared a probe with all the ship logs and combat data and fired it toward human-held territory. It would run silently until it exited the system and then begin broadcasting a coded signal for pickup.
He was dismayed at how few pods had left the ship and regretted so many young lives had been cut short.
As he saw the last pod clear the battlefield, he sat back for a moment and then triggered the charge on the main computer.
A hard pounding came from the other side of the hatchway. But there wasn’t enough power to open it. He guessed the pinging on the door was them firing their lasers and trying to blast it open.
He wondered if it would work but a huge rumble, a bright flash, interrupted, and the long career of Captain Král was finally over.
News of the Roanoke’s final battle flashed across news channels on hundreds of worlds. Her courageous and foolhardy charge at a superior force. The damage she did to the Naalx fleet before her destruction. How, of the 1859 members of the crew that went into the battle, only 108 survived.
The videos taken from both sides during the battle played over and over again.
How the Naalx picked up all the escape pods and released them on the station immediately.
And even recovered the bodies of any human they found while gathering their dead.
Naalx losses were the command ship, 2 capital ships, 9 sub-capitals destroyed, and a dozen other vessels damaged in one form or another. Naalx casualties were over 50,000 dead
Only the Naalx’s immense respect for courage, audacity, and bravery in the face of danger kept the skirmish from blowing up into a war.
The Naalx rendered full military honors as they turned the Human dead over to Lt. Commander Ricci.
The Captain Král, A Grenville-class cruiser, was launched 2 years later. Captain Nana Ricci in command.
Authors note- I hope you enjoyed this story. It's based on a historical event. Which according to an idiot on youtube is plagiarism.
If you feel like leaving a tip https://ko-fi.com/tomcarey

F20 58kg 172cm
Medications: Sertraline, Ivabradine, Folic Acid Diagnosis’s: POTS, OCD, ?ADHD
I’m posting on here for some help and advice with results from my blood tests. I’ve had at least 10 blood tests and never really had answers for these few abnormal ones. My symptoms are tiredness/fatigue, tachycardia, hypotension, blood pooling (I know these are POTS symptoms but recently they have gotten worse, my heart rate goes up to 190 now which it never used too go higher than 170/180). Looking at my history these have always been abnormal and it’s nothing new BUT has gradually worsened.
Total white cell count: 3.5 10*9/L Normal range: 3.7 to 11.0
Red blood cell (RBC) Count: 3.54 10*12/L Normal range: 3.80 to 5.80
Mean corpuscular volume (MCV): 111.3 fL Normal range: 76.0 to 100.0
Mean corpusc. haemoglobin(MCH): 35.3 pg Normal range: 27.0 to 32.0
Mean corpusc. Hb. conc. (MCHC): 317 g/L Normal range: 320 to 365
Serum folate: Normal range: Above 4.1
13 March 2024 3.5 ug/L 10 November 2023 2.9 ug/L 17 April 2023 2.3 ug/L 28 January 2022 4.6 ug/L 27 July 2021 8.1 ug/L
Serum total bilirubin level: Normal range: 1 to 21
13 March 2024 25 umol/L 17 April 2023 31 umoll
When I ask about my results my GP just tells me that my folate levels are low and i’m on my 3rd 3 month course of folic acid. Does anyone know what the cause for these results may be or how I can fix it? I’m trying to lose weight.

The Communist captain gave me a disgusted look, but then I realized it wasn't me that caused him such disgust, but my bride behind me. I closed the comms channel. xenophobic dickhead.
The tractor beam interrupted the functioning of the gravity plates that had been installed in our brand new two hundred year old ship. They were supposed to work without power for at least twenty minutes. I had paid some attention to the briefing on the ship's systems, just not... really good attention, which was regretting Nyany let out yelp of surprise. She hadn't spent months in zero g training. I grabbed her hand and since I was still bolted to the pilot's seat I easily helped her into her seat where she strapped in.
"Thanks," She smiled at me and blinked slowly. "It's been a couple centuries since my zero-g training. Felidians do not do well in zero gravity."
We sat there for a moment holding hands, getting pulled toward the big grey communist warship, watching in silent horror. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
And then from every speaker in the cockpit, an alarm started to blare.
Torpedo Alert
A high speed flash of red, I'm guessing the torpedo, smashed into the great grey slab. It came from behind and above us, and very very close. The torpedo lodged right in the protruding tractor beam emitter, disabling it before it exploded.
The explosion rocked us backward and shook our relatively small craft.
Another torpedo seemed to come from our ship and hit the communist ship in the open hole the first one made before it too detonated. Then a visible energy shield appeared around the great warship.
We received a hail from... I hoped whoever was shooting torpedoes at the commies, the computer couldn't identify the source.
Much to my surprise when the viewscreen turned on it was Terriphany, she had clearly aged, but it was very much obviously her. I thought only tortoises lived to extreme ages, but what do I know about xenobiology.
"Terriphany, I assume you're the one who turned off that tractor beam for us?" I never expected to be so genuinely glad to see a woman I had been such as ass in front of.
"No time to explain, standby for coupling." There was a clang on our outer hull and her ship coupled to mine on the docking port.
"Captain Davis, Nyany, whoever is flying up there? Those communist humans are only gonna be disabled for so long. Be a dear and start flying us the hell away from here!" She sounded older too, but determined in a way the young woman from the hot tub hadn't.
Nyany grabbed the yoke in the co-pilot's seat and took control, she punched the throttle full forward and we dove away from our attacker. She aimed us toward the Earth, we had dropped out of the RarDrive at the L1 point between the Earth and Moon. My god, the Earth. It was a covered in a thick grey cloud from pole to pole. What happened? It wasn't this bad two hundred years ago.
As I sat there bewildered at the state of my homeworld, the hatch opened and a handful of slightly-more-human-looking-than Terriphany turtle people dropped in. I was at once reminded of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...
"Hi Dad, Nice to meet you." The first one said. He had a thick bundle of cables in his very human looking hand as he leaned over the seat I was in, and popped open the console to quickly plugged it in. "We're good Mom!"
"Standby..." Terriphany talked past Nyany and me to, I guess our son? While she pressed a few commands on her console. "Alright, Nyany, could you aim us where that navicom is suggesting, and then push that big red button for us."
She aimed the ship up from my now grey world, and over the horizon. Nyany looked at me, and I nodded. She hit the button and a Rainbow assaulted us.
"Owww Fuck!" Said the adult turtle-man standing behind me.
"Leonardo, Language!" His mother chided over the intercom. "Now, come help your old mother down into that ship. I want to explain myself to your father."
Nyany and I got out of our seats. When I was on my feet the need to slap myself in the face with both hands. Nope. Awake.
"Are you okay?" Nyany's tail said she was no edge. I could hardly blame her. That was a very wild few seconds, and now we were off again, but with a bunch of turtle-people we'd never met before calling me Dad. I'm on edge too.
"No... who would be okay right now? I'm pretty far from okay." I am honest. "But I think maybe, eventually I'll be okay. It's just... a lot to process. We almost died."
"Well... lets go see what Terriphany has to say." She took my hand and squeezed it, I squeezed back.
And we walked into the back of the ship where Terriphany, my three children with her, and two of my adult grandchildren and one of their spouses were waiting, along with a clutch of eggs that I assume contain my great grand children.
"First things first, we installed a cloak so that no one will be able to find us, at least hopefully. I put all the money I made from Disney paying me to having your children from stored DNA samples into stealth tech research. I took the pinnacle of our designs and destroyed all the research and the entire company a week before we came here to join you. This is your eldest son Leonardo, the second to hatch was Rembrandt, and your only Daughter Sofonisba hatched third. Her children with a human man, Frank, deceased, are Artemisia and Donatello. Artemisia has laid a clutch that she made with her mate, Chelon. Donatello has yet to find a mate, we all hope he can do so in whatever future we find ourselves in."
Everyone waved one at a time and when she was done speaking, I nearly lost my legs. Nyany helped me find a chair. "Get him some water, please."
Sofonisba brought a glass to me. She looks a lot like me, how can a turtle person look so much like me. What the fuck Disney-corp, Captain Tanner, whichever of them was responsible for this... I actually needed to thank. My surprise family had really pulled my ass out of the fire. I splash myself in the face with the glass of water more than I drink it, but I did swallow a little in the process.
"Okay, so that's a lot. I have questions."
Terriphany gestured for me to go ahead. And all the kids found places to sit down themselves too. Nyany stayed standing behind and beside me, her hand on my shoulder.
"So what now? How much did Disney pay you for this? Was there some sort of reality show associated with raising them too? Is Disney even still around? Why are they all named after Earth's renaissance artists?" They came tumbling out faster than they could answer.
"Disney paid Mom plenty." Rembrandt said.
"Turtin' along with Terriphany, yes." Sofonisba said. "It put us all through college. Phd's the lot of us."
"Disney named the first three of us, and we just..." Leonardo sorta trailed off.
"...carried on the tradition afterward, I guess." Sofonisba took responsibility for naming her own children in the same fashion."
Terriphany's tone took a dire note when she answered his only remaining unanswered question. "As for old Disney corp... well, they fully captured the galactic government when they went properly interspecies in their executive level. It's the Disney Way now, not the Milky Way. Humanity on Earth rebelled against Disney rule and after it was deemed the citizens had too much hope to be properly profitable for the company, the planet was bombarded from space. Most of humanity retreated violently from capitalism after the blanketing of earth in that grey fog."
Nyany was smarter than me, she asked a very good question, "So why did they try to take us alive, and not just blast us out of existence while we crawled around the solar system at near light speed?
"Oh, because the RarDrive is a bomb that will wipe out half the solar system in a single massive explosion if it's disengaged early. Old Disney was smart and vicious. This is all in your contract Captain Davis, did you not read any of it?"
"People from my time don't really fully read contracts. Just press accept or sign and assume its fine."
"That explains why the kids are such a surprise to you. I wasn't the only one you know..." She hook her head in disbelief. "The other reason to not explode you, is that you are the richest single person in the galaxy. Captain Tanner invested a small portion of your funds into buying a rather intelligent investment AI to manage your resources, and it smartly paid to upgrade itself. As a result, It the we left your AI and Disney Corp were engaged in galaxy wide commercial and financial warfare, as well as some actual warfare in terms of proxy wards. Half the galaxy thinks of you as a hero, an the other half a villain."
Nyany gave me a little shake and whispered in my ear. "Earlier when I said It was hundreds of years since my Zero-g training, I meant... from my point of view. I'm four hundred and twelve earth years old." I think she realized I hadn't properly read her bio before starting the show, but I had, it said she was twenty seven, which I now realize must have been her planet's years.
"So... now what?" I asked again.
Terriphany smiled in her turtle way, "Well If the rumors are true, then only the living Relic, Captain Davis, In other words, You, my dear baby-daddy, can take command of the AI and give it new instructions. Its current objective is to "maximize profit for Captain Davis" and the main hub will hopefully still be at the star system about two hundred light years away that we're headed to at a turtle's pace. Feel free to take some time to think about what you want to do with that information, but I'll tell you what I think you should do if you want."
"Hit me, Terri."
She smiled, and I could almost see that twenty four year old turtle girl in the hot tub again. God I was such as ass. "I think you should tell it make the star trek future actually happen."
"Yea, I think I will."
A pretty good day later, we smashed through the rainbow above a beautiful blue-green orb.

I 21F, live with my mother, 2 sisters and 1 brother. My sister M22 has a friend K22 who lives with us. They have known each other since 6th grade and have been connected at the hip since then. In the beginning I did not like her at all, she was very annoying, and things had to be done her way. She also can't take 'no' for an answer. Over the years I've learned to tolerate her a little bit but now she has pushed me over the edge.
K just moved out of the house her, and her dad lived in because their lease ended. They moved in with her dad's friend G and they will live their until they find another house to rent. My mom and sister came up with the idea to make my brothers old room into a bedroom for her so she could stay whenever she didn't want to be at her house. Which is very nice and a lot of people wouldn't do that. My mother and sister didn't ask anyone if that would be alright, which I know it is my mother's house, but nobody told me that, that was the plan. I also still can't stand her at all. Mind: she goes home for 1 day and then comes right back and will stay for a few weeks straight.
I have always had issues with K because she is always here, in our business and just won't stop. When she is over (which is everyday at this point) she has to do HER stuff and I can't do mine. I clean the house, because I don't work rn so I clean the house daily and do a deep clean to 1. keep up with the daily chores and 2. just because I'm living here rent free and it's the bare minimun. While I clean I love listening to music, as of rn I've been listening to Christmas music because it's my favorite time of year and it just makes me feel better so I've been listening to it a lot recently to try and distract myself from everything that is going on in my life. I got an Alexa and I listen to music on that, it's never above level 5 volume, it's just background noise. K will come in whatever room and turn it off, I told her not too and she said she doesn't want to listen to it, and I told her that it's my Alexa don't mess with it and if she doesn't like it listen to her own music with her airpods or go into a different room, or I can put my music back on and just change the station and she said to change the station. I changed to Pop music and I was in the middle of sweeping in the other room and it turned off, I went into the room where my Alexa was and checked to see what happened and saw that it was unplugged. K was in the room right next to it and I asked her what happened, she said that she unplugged it because she was tired of it. I told her "I asked you not to touch it" she said it doesn't matter and that she doesn't want to listen to my music.
I have airpods but I can't find them rn, so I can't listen to music on my phone without it being outloud. She continues to turn off my music no matter what I am doing, and it pisses me off. This isn't the only thing she does though.
K also can't take 'no' for an answer, she will beg you until you get so pissed off that you give in just so she will shut her big mouth. I bought my own groceries this past few weeks using my birthday money and in our house we have a rule: if you buy it , it's yours just let other people know that it is yours. We have stickers that we put on tupperware and other food items if a certain person bought it and doesn't want others in it. I placed these stickers on everything I bought and I let the others know that I bought stuff at the store and that I put the stickers on it and to please not touch it. K came into the living room the other day and asked if this pack of lunch meat was mine eventhough the stick on the very front where you can't miss it has my name on it and "PLEASE DON'T TOUCH" written. I told her yes that it was mine and she asked if she could have it and I said 'no' there's lunch meat outside that she can have. She rolled her eyes and put it back in the fridge. I went to my room for a little bit after that and I got hungry and went to make my lunch and in the fridge was my open container of lunch meat that I told her not to touch, I just got that at the store and haven't opened it yet. My sister and K were in the living room with empty plates next to them and I asked them why my lunch meat was open, and K said that they were hungry and made sandwiches. With the lunch meat I bought. I asked them why after I told her not to eat it and just not touch it because it was mine and her excuse was, I like turkey and your mom bought ham, so I used yours instead because I like it better. My sister then said, "it's not a big deal, it's just a few slices of lunch meat it's fine" It is a big deal to me because they overstepped a boundary again.
Another thing that happened just yesterday, I was making cookies and I have learned to not bake the whole batch while K is over, she will eat the entire thing before anyone else gets to have one. So I made 6 cookies and while I was making them she had to be in the kitchen and ask a million questions, “what are you making” “what kind of cookies are you making” “when will they be done” “how long do they have to bake” etc. When I bake and cook I have to be the only one in the kitchen because I will get very overwhelmed. The kitchen is small and having more than 1 person in there at a time is exhausting. K had to be right on top of me while I was doing it, I wasn’t teaching her anything so there was no reason for her to be over my shoulder the entire time. When I finished the dough I had to keep it in the fridge overnight and she got upset because she wanted a cookie now. Which I understand because I love cookies too but there is no reason to get upset over having to wait 14 hrs for cookie dough to chill in the fridge.
Today I finally baked them and she freaked out because I was baking them finally and she really wanted one. She was confused as to why I only make 6 cookies instead of the whole batch which makes 36 cookies. I just told her that I’m just making enough for everyone to have 1 rn. My real reason is because every time she is over and we have anything I baked it will be gone in a few hours. The other day a family friend that I bake with often made ME brownies and yes she said that they were for me mainly but to share. I didn’t even get 1 bite of a brownie because K ate most and when I asked where they went they said they were gone and I asked who ate them K sad she had the last one. I told her that I didn’t get one and our friend made them mainly for me and she said “snooze you loose”
I finished making the cookies and I went to my room to let them cool, while in my room K texted me and asked “will u hurt me if I have a cookie?” I responded “no, u can have 1 cookie only, there are 6. That’s 1 for everyone, so only eat 1 cookie” she left me on read. I came back out about 30 minutes later to put them in a Tupperware and they were gone! Completely gone 6 cookies gone in 30 minutes. I asked my sister and K where they went and they were eating a cookie as I walked in the living room. I asked how many cookies they had and they looked at each other and smiled trying to contain their laughter. I knew in that moment that they ate all 6 cookies and had no shame. I asked her about the text message and whether or not she comphrend it or if it just went right over her head. She said they were really good and wanted another. Idc if she wanted another she couldn’t take my answer, I set a boundary with her again and she overstepped again. My sister and K laughed because I got upset about 6 cookies but I’m not upset about the cookies. I’m upset because the boundaries I set have been violated again and again and Idk what to do about it. I decided to keep my mouth shut because I 100% believe in if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all” I that moment there was nothing nice to say. As I walked out, K said you can make more cookies now, use the rest of the dough” I just walked back to my room and stayed there until my mom came home.
When my mom came home I told her about what happened and I asked her if K could leave and she said no because our house is her house and she needs to feel welcomed here. My mom and I got into a small argument about that because I brought up that her saying that made me feel like my mom doesn’t care about my feelings when it comes to this. K is overstepping my boundaries and M is letting her and helping her do so and nothing is being done about it I just have to take it and my mom told me that I’m blowing all out of proportion and to relax and forget about it.
I’m not going to forget about it, I’m going to remember this 10 years down the line when you want to come back into my life after I go no contact with all of them. I rarely feel safe in the house and I just want my own space. I don’t have a job so I don’t have an income to start saving up and move out. I just want K to leave, I haven’t had a break since she started living here.
AITAH?

Hey! Bloodied Chef here with some advice for new players, as some that I’ve helped on Xbox and PC are having issues in game!

1. Donation Boxes - Sometimes you’ll find items that have spawned in the boxes, and sometimes you’ll find items that players have put into the donation boxes that’s free loot! Take them! There’s 21 donation boxes all together. Outside Vault 76, Outside the Wayward, Outside the Flatwoods Church, Berkeley Station, Charleston Station, Grafton Station, Lewisburg Station, Morgantown Station, Pleasant Valley Station, R&G Station, Sunnytop Station, Sutton Station, The Whitespring Station, Watoga Station, Welch Station, The Whitespring Resort, Fort Atlas, Nuka-World on Tour, The Crater, Foundation and the Overseers Home! All reset daily.
   
2. A full storage box - Sometimes you’ll find that your storage box is full and you can no longer place items into it, here is some ways around that. You can use a workbench/armorbench/tinkerbench to scrap some weapons/armor or junk down. Scrapping any armor or weapons down, will give you the possibility to unlock some attachments for the weapon!
   
3. Power Armor Frames - When you’ve first started the game, you won’t be able to use any power armor until level 25 BUT you can find Power Armor Chassis around the playable map, as long as you take the armor off of the frame, you can simply use the frame for a added bit of protection. You can, around the map at certain spawn points, find T-45 Armor pieces and Raider Armor pieces at level 10.
   
4. Perks - Although everyone has their own ways of playing the game, these are some very useful perks and what they do. These are some of the most useful ones in my opinion.
   
   • Strength.
5. Full Charge : Sprinting in Power Armor consumes no extra fusion core energy. (Can be upgraded twice.)
   
6. Travelling Pharma : Weights of all chems, (including stimpaks) are reduced by 30%. (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
   

- Perception. 

• Green Thumb : Reap twice as much when harvesting flora.
• Picklock : Gain +1 lockpicking skill, and the lockpicking ‘sweet spot’ is 10% larger. (Added onto Expert & Master Picklocking.)
  
  • Endurance.
• Aqua Boy : You no longer take rad damage from swimming and can breathe underwater.
  
• Life Giver : Gain a total of +30 to your maximum health. (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
  • Charisma.
• Hard Bargain : Buying and selling prices at non player vendors are now much better. (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
• Travel Agent : you now pay 30% less caps to fast travel.
  
  • Intelligence.
• First Aid : Stimpaks restore 15% more lost health. (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
• Power User : Fusion core duration now lasts 30% longer. (can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
• Portable Power : All power Armor pieces and chassis weights are reduced by 25%. (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
• Contractor : Crafting workshop items now costs 50% fee materials. This branch does include the Hacker perk line, gunsmith and science perk lines!
  
  • Agility.
• Ammosmith : Produce 40% more rounds when crafting ammunition.
  
• Home defence : You can craft better turrets and traps (Plans required.) (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
• Light Footed : While sneaking, you never trigger mines or floor based traps.
  
• Packin’ light : Your pistols weigh 25% less. (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
  • Luck.
• Scrounger : 40% Chance to find extra ammo in ammo containers. (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
• Cap Collector : You find 33% more bottle caps in caps stashes. (can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
• Pharma Farma : 40% chance to find extra first aid chems in Chen containers. (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
  
• WoodChucker : Collect twice as much wood from harvesting wood.
  
• Can Do! : 40% chance to find extra canned goods in food containers. (Can be upgraded 3 times.)
  

1. Listen to advice from older and veteran players! : Don’t be scrounging or begging other players for items. A small group of the community will have in words, ‘safe zone’ or ‘free resources & workbenches’ somewhere in their camp, but not all will give you free items! Don’t get upset with them if they don’t give you free items! In some camps, they have open beds and workbenches you can use! Some players have traps in their camps, as a joke but some will kill you with the traps!

That’s it for now, as my phone is lagging like mad! Remember, not every player is going to be friendly to new players! Chef out.

Hello everyone, I have been hanging out in this group for over a year now, and I cannot explain how helpful it has been so far. Reading and supporting people in a similar path feels a way more authentic and useful than friends and family that ask you stuff like " are you dating now? you are still young and beautiful" with such a lack of sensitivity I cannot even.
I feel I have talked enough about my divorce, but to be very honest with you, I really didn't. I tend to think that there is not that much to say, but there is still so much sadness inside that I don't know how to verbalize more than I do. Now that I am in the separation process, things come up randomly and in such a difficult way such us e-mail to confirm papers out of the blue that just ruin my day. Or answering calls to confirm that you are separating from your husband and so on. It triggers me so much I have to lay down and take a nap to get back to function after a couple of hours.
I am doing 1:1 therapy and group gestalt therapy, I am working out and eating properly, and I just feel I am fucking fed up with all of this, and the random grief waves that just came at me. It is so tiring. It is one year I ended it, and somedays it feels I am having a new life, and some days is pure hell.
There are two main things I feel really misunderstood about:
1) Being the one ending the marriage is not the one having the easiest time. Ending the relationship has been the most difficult thing in my entire life. I had to be honest with myself and accept that someone will never be able to offer me any safety. * my nervous system is so fried I cannot* I have been with my ex partner for 5 years ( during covid times - so it feels like 20 years tbh considering the whole the world is falling apart and we have each other kind of vibe), and last June, a bit more than 1 year in the marriage, I decided to end it. I have been waiting since years, probably from the very beginning for something to happen. I got promised a lot, and delivered zero. I know, I know what most of you are thinking. I married potential. And I just wish I was less angry at myself for that. I am trying to give myself as much grace, understanding and compassion as I can, but I am having a really difficult time with it. My partner has a mental illness that left untreated, and it just got worse and worse, to the point in which my mental health ended up collapsing as well. I have underestimated it. I asked him to start therapy a trillion times, but there is just a certain much you can do. It all ended with me having a mental breakdown, and I had to leave because my body literally told me to fu*k off. lt feels so depressive to say, but yeah. At the 28392th time of the other person lacking real care, or any sense of safety, I just broke inside. They left for a work trip and I started crying and I just could not stop. I cried one week straight. Day and night. The most exhausting week of my life. I just knew what was happening and I just had to roll with it. You just never think you would be the person that would happen to.
During that week I asked him not to talk because I needed some time. He didn't say much, cause he didn't care that much to be honest. He was absorbed with himself as usual. I feel intoxicated. I have been under constant mental stress for years, and I thought I could handle it. I thought I was ok. I was not. I relocated to his country because he was homesick, and all I got is to end a marriage and having to relocate to another country. I ended a marriage within a 90 minute conversation. I talked, he didn't say much. He looked almost relieved. If felt like a punch in the stomach. I moved to another country. I am starting a new life but I feel so broken, I can't. Everyone feels like I kinda move on. I am an independent, driven bad ass. I am just tired, I feel lonely and I have lost friendships and health on the process.
This has been the first time in my life in which I really like really needed help. I asked for it, and I didn't get much in return. I have been there so much for my friends, to the point of hearing things like " You know, I have never really hold space for you and I don't feel like doing it because I have lots going on". This was the day after I broke up. The charity shop is now closed. I also had to deal with the people I surrounded myself with.
I am trying to keep it together, working on new goals and dreams, but it is just so confusing.
I am currently grieving a life I planned and I worked hard for.
I am so angry and I don't know what to do beside going to the gym, talk to my therapist and try to keep a good routine. I feel I have been scammed and used. I am so angry at him, but mostly at myself for believing all his lies, and I cannot go over that.
2) You just move on. I just feel an entire part of my life ended. A chapter of my life closed. Beside the grief, some days I look at myself at the mirror and I am not even sure I really know that person. I am seeing so many things in such a different light, and I feel my heart so shut at times that almost scares me. My range of feeling is so limited and I can feel that. I asked my therapist my diagnosis after 3 years working together, and it seems I am dealing with PTSD. I have starting working on myself 10 years ago. I had a very difficult life, and I am making the best of it considering the overall circumstances. And yet, after this experience there is a tiny voice inside of me that thinks, that now I have seen what I am capable of on many level, I just want to have the best. And I am afraid that that might never come because I have such clear ideas for the first time in my life that just feels too much. I just feel I have been too much my entire life, and being around people with whom I just shrink seems the easiest option.
3) work and anxiety. The only thing that is still kind of together in my life is my job. I love it and I feel really good at it, while I am also facing anxiety because I cannot keep up with my ideas. I wish i could do more, but I am doing a way less that I would like to due to my body getting tired super quickly. And while some people tell me to take time off, to be honest work is what keeps me sane. Am I the only one? I don't want to hide in my work, but it is genuinely the safest space i have in my life.
I don't have questions or need anything. Just felt the need to write someone before trying to start another day in my life in which I have to find new meanings. I hate feeling this miserable.
Thank you for reading.

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.”

Hello. Im posting in this subreddit as i have yet to find an answer to my questionable situation. I have this friend which i spent most of my hours at school with, and sometimes even after school, (though rarely). We met roughly a year ago and in very unpleasant circumstances, i was going thru alot as a person and as well as the new kid at the school, he was likewise experiencing an unpleasant amount of nudging from our classmates, (Although not in protest for his new arrival in the school, as hed been there for years) even though he is generarly a good and honest kid. Needless to say, during that first span of few months in the new school (a year ago currently) i went up to him and slowly yet steadily we became very close, we hang out at lunch, at our classes we were desk-mates and we'd walk to the bus stop together... As is evident, we became close friends, and currently i can even talk to him about my deepest concerns in life, though hes not much of a comforting guy, i nevertheless found and still find reassurance just by him allowing me to talk about my problems. Our friendship has gone thru a lot of distortions, friend-group breakups, new friends, but i unfortunately believe our friendship is unable of adjusting to the new person of which i am becoming.
I used to be a very troubled kid, id smoke a lot, drink if given the chance, and i was deep in depression. If i had the chance to be intoxicated i would to it uncontrollably which didn't helped the addiction genes passed on from my family. I used to have no interest in school, no future goals, no literature, or the wellness of myself and body. I used to seek external approval, from my classmates as well as from strangers. I've got a feeling i sound pretentious at the moment, but bear with me. I have now become a completely different person, though i admit i still hold some traits as before, for example, i would smoke or drink but not excessivly as i did before, though undoubtibly its not my biggest worry at the moment. I have now started studying, set up some high goals for the future for which i pleasantly prepare for, i have the dream of becoming a special forces operator in my home-country one day and that is possible starting from a military academy. That academy requires plenty of studying and preparations which i find contentment in doing.
It goes without saying, i am not the same person i was, yet i fear our friendship is stuck in the past. He has started calling me stupid or dumb infront of our friendgroup, and one of them has also picked up on the same habit, though less frequently. I hope my friend expresses it in a joking manner rather than a serious intently-offensive manner (as we usually harmlessly joke around. Now in brainrot mostly from my part), though i fear theres more to that.
I, in real life, do not use such vocabulary, and my way of expression doesn't not align with the one i have in this post, for as i like being and feeling an easy going 'momentum' if not needed otherwise, i slouch and i walk in a relaxed manner, i sometimes act aloof as it brings me a sense of calmness and carelessness. Regardless, as i did not acted in an announcement fully regarding my new way of being, i have shared some goals and ambitions, aswell as frequent training progresses with him and some of our friends. Im not sure whether im taken seriously though, only comments are ''nice'' or ''cool'' , unfortunatly their microaggressions have yet to stop, im usually not taken seriously when speaking in an anything other than aloof manner. And those 'stupid', 'slow', 'dumb' responses to my expressions are exaggerated, spoken loudly with a feeling of exasperation, and that is, to things that just happen to be some silly mistakes, as for when i forgot my book, stuttered at a word, or when speaking slow. I just speak in brainrot (skibidi toilet, munting, jelking and etc), not fully, but in quiet environments in order to spark up a laugh, a few managable words.
i have yet to improve my need for others approval though its in a better state than before. Although, i believe that i want of approval from ones imposingly good friends is not instinctively bad, i used to consider these guys good pals, ones ill want to keep in touch in the future, but as for now, im starting to grow a disinterest and disgust in the way they treat me.
I hate to admit that these comments have impacted me to a level -that i do not find appropriate for my self-progression. I fear that i am the quote on quote 'stupid' friend of the group, which i would not find in any way hurtful if it wasn't for the complete disinterest and indifference when i do not express in their 'biased' and stereotyped self of me, commonly resulting in my progress going undermined and/or completely ignored.
What should i do? I have yet to speak to my friend about this, or our other friend, though i fear if they were to shown compassion, it would be an artificial one, a pity disguised as compassion and understanding. I have now stopped informing my friends about my random funny incidents which, long ago, would bring in a good sincere laugh with no hidden haughtiness from their part.
The reason why i am asking this is because i also have another friend which i do not share the same school with but he has known me longer than the others have, and hes really sweet and supportive, i consider our friendship with that guy from a different school to be sincere and healthy. We can joke around and still indulge in deep conversation from both parts... Comparing these two friendships have put me into a thinking spiral, regarding my perceived self and my actual self, a healthy friendship and ones thats taking a toll on me, making me question my abilities... I hate that their words impact me even the slightest, and im starting to feel a strain on our friendship as i can no longer share meaningful subject with them nor random silly instances as i will be taken with an offensive unseriousness regarding what im speaking of...
To add, ive also recently started receiving comments labeling me as a narc or drug user (referring to their slow nature of speaking and thinking) and even sometimes as homeless, which worsens this situation deeply. The reason as to why i speak in a managable slow pace or i randomly stop talking in order to think is to be sure of what to say so they wont have any chances of labeling me as an idiot, though now, it seems inevitable.
This is too long, what should i do?Cut em out? I dont understand why they are treating me this way.. im too deep in and the year school ends soon, i fear this friendship wont hold after the year's end, as well as the new beginnings arrivals.

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.”

Discord: jperez
Email: [jperezonline@outlook.com](mailto:jperezonline@outlook.com)
Hola, ¿qué tal? My name is Jhon Pérez, a native Spanish tutor with over 10 years of experience in Spanish homework. I can help you with any type of Spanish assignments: exams, quizzes, tests, worksheets and essays.
I've done many accounts on VHL Central, McGraw Hill, Blackboard, Canvas, MyLabs, Cengage, Desire2Learn, ELEteca, Edgenuity, Contraseña, WileyPlus and more.
Besides being a native Spanish speaker, I have knowledge of vocabulary, functional grammar and the functions of all levels of Spanish (Beginners A1-A2, Intermediate B1-B2 and Advanced C1-C2.)
I can work with login, TeamViewer and screenshots. If you choose the latter I will make sure to be online at the agreed time to work with you (you send the screenshots and I send the answers.)
This is not an agency. It's just me, the Spanish tutor, so you don't have to pay double fees (one to the agency owner and another to the tutor.)
Unlike other Spanish tutors, I will provide you with safe, untraceable VPN connection to your closest location and follow your instruction(s) to deliver plagiarism-free Spanish papers.
For tight deadlines I can deliver the same day as long as I am contacted at least 4 hours before deadline.
My rates are pocket-friendly and flexible to fit your budget. You can use milestone payments or pay as you go.
Proof and vouches can be seen on my profile.
Send your prompt and get a quote today!
Email: [jperezonline@outlook.com](mailto:jperezonline@outlook.com)
Discord: jperez
¡Nos vemos!

Discord: jperez
Email: [jperezonline@outlook.com](mailto:jperezonline@outlook.com)
Hola, ¿qué tal? My name is Jhon Pérez, a native Spanish tutor with over 10 years of experience in Spanish homework. I can help you with any type of Spanish assignments: exams, quizzes, tests, worksheets and essays.
I've done many accounts on VHL Central, McGraw Hill, Blackboard, Canvas, MyLabs, Cengage, Desire2Learn, ELEteca, Edgenuity, Contraseña, WileyPlus and more.
Besides being a native Spanish speaker, I have knowledge of vocabulary, functional grammar and the functions of all levels of Spanish (Beginners A1-A2, Intermediate B1-B2 and Advanced C1-C2.)
I can work with login, TeamViewer and screenshots. If you choose the latter I will make sure to be online at the agreed time to work with you (you send the screenshots and I send the answers.)
This is not an agency. It's just me, the Spanish tutor, so you don't have to pay double fees (one to the agency owner and another to the tutor.)
Unlike other Spanish tutors, I will provide you with safe, untraceable VPN connection to your closest location and follow your instruction(s) to deliver plagiarism-free Spanish papers.
For tight deadlines I can deliver the same day as long as I am contacted at least 4 hours before deadline.
My rates are pocket-friendly and flexible to fit your budget. You can use milestone payments or pay as you go.
Proof and vouches can be seen on my profile.
Send your prompt and get a quote today!
Email: [jperezonline@outlook.com](mailto:jperezonline@outlook.com)
Discord: jperez
¡Nos vemos!

Hi I'm just a casual JetPunk player, but I would like to ask a question regarding the JetPunk 196 country list consensus, out of genuine curiosity and respect.
TL;DR: What criteria is the 196 List of Countries based on and what geopolitical event would it take for it to change? (maybe this question has been answered before but I haven't seen it, in that case please link to answer)
​
I understand that for a long time there has been a consensus of 196 countries recognized by JetPunk, which only differs from the 193 UN member states by its inclusion of Vatican City (which has observer state status and diplomatic relations with all but 4 or 5 members), Kosovo (which is recognized by about 100 members) and Taiwan (has official and unofficial relations with up to 59 member states).
This "JetPunk consensus" doesn't prevent quizzes on the website from including other countries, or even to have them featured; but it is the most widely used one and seems to be a non-negotiable requirement to use it (and its accepted answers) in order to have quizzes with "Countries" in its title featured.
I think this consensus is undeniably beneficial to keep the website coherent. I think it's great. And I know territorial recognition will never stop being a widely controversial topic. But I think it's important that we are able to understand the reason behind the list.
So my question is mainly: What criteria does the list follow? But also: What would it take for this list to change from now on?
Because I think it's not that hard to imagine a hypothetical scenario in which a country disappears (like Tibet did around 1951, the USSR in 1991 and Yugoslavia around 2003) or new countries are 'created' (like South Sudan in 2011, and the countries created by the dissolution of the USSR and Yugoslavia), which would also likely change their UN status.
​
I'm guessing the list takes into account UN membership, recognition by the USA and EU, international recognition and level of sovereignty; or more likely, a combination of those. But I'm not sure which criteria do Kosovo and Taiwan meet that other countries like Palestine, Niue and the Sahrawi Republic don't.
Especially Palestine, which, just like the Vatican, holds observer status, and recently received the support of 143 member states to have it improved. That's about 74% of the UN members. For contrast, Israel is recognized by 165, or about 85%.
I know it's a topic of controversy, but I think we should be honest about the real criteria behind the consensus. I think we should also be prepared for the list to change by potential future geopolitical events such as the annexation of one country by another (e.g. Guyana by Venezuela; Georgia, Moldova or Ukraine by Russia; Taiwan by China, etc.) or the sudden independence or sovereignty acquisition of one (e.g. Cook Islands, Sahrawi Republic, Niue, Somaliland, Bougainville, etc.).
​
This would potentially cause an extremely great amount of quizzes to change, but I think that shouldn't be a reason not to do it in case of such an event. We should be flexible and prioritize accuracy over maintaining the status quo.

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Part 14.3

Heracles VS Lernaean Hydra

Author Note: I was thinking about it and I really wish that GT9 used more draconic symbolism throughout the story when (or if) I revisit Team Crowley VS Rosencreutz I'll have symbolism of Aleister (TheBeast666), Aiwass (Codename: DRAGON) and Coronzon (The Dragon of the Abyss) all have symbology of them being Dragons preying on a God/Hero like CRC and the reversed conflict of Chaos VS Order you see in mythology, I also wanted to achieve something similar with Kakine Teitoku as he can represent the Fallen Angel and the Seraphim but for now I'll try adding draconian symbolism into Gunha VS CRC.
True Expert Christian Rosencreutz, with his golden rosy cross sword, clashed relentlessly against the indomitable force of the Strongest Gemstone, Sogiita Gunha. With each clash of their powers, the air crackled and compressed, and the pavement trembled beneath.
CRC, observed Sogiita with a mixture of intrigue and disdain. "You fight like the legendary Heracles," he remarked, his voice carrying over the din of battle. "But know this, I am the Lernaean Hydra, and no matter how many heads you sever, I shall always rise again!" Rosencreutz roared to slice the #7’s midsection.
Sogiita, his entire body wreathed in unknowable energy, met CRC's blade unyielding. "Bring it on, old man!" he retorted, his voice brimming with confidence. "I'll knock you down as many times as it takes! I won't stop till you come to your senses and remember your roots, like the roses you love so much, Rosencreutz!!"
Their clash intensified, that old man’s higher dimensional sword colliding with the raw power of that boy’s fists and kicks as they pushed each other to their limits with each sword swing, punch, kick and flash.
Sogiita unleashed a barrage of punches, each strike carrying the force of a meteor, while that silver young man countered: he wielded his sword in his right hand and released impacts followed by white light that was enough to previously take down all of The Bridge Builders Cabal.
As the battle raged on, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and shift around them, bearing witness to the titanic struggle between two unparalleled forces.
The founder of Rosicrucianism who intimidated reality itself to obey his will and that Gemstone with an unstable personal reality that could change on a whim.
The atmosphere crackled with electrifying distortion.
Sogiita's fists tore through the air with the ferocity of meteors, their velocity enhanced by his ability to adapt and accelerate, surpassing even CRC's speed. As each blow was released, the friction with the surrounding air molecules ignited a scorching heat, intensifying the impact.
The rapid movement of molecules generated an escalating thermal energy, causing the air to seethe with increasing temperature. It was akin to a tempest of incandescent projectiles hurtling towards CRC, their speed surpassing the limits of human perception.
It was like a storm of brilliant fiery arrows was fired at Rosencreutz.
These blazing arrows of force were reminiscent of the elusive strikes employed by the Rose & Cross Leader, ignoring distance with deceptive agility.
With each thunderous punch, that bandana boy sought to overpower his adversary through sheer kinetic force, his unwavering resolve palpable in every motion.
But that wasn't enough for this superhuman.
CRC, wielding his cross sword with precision and skill, deflected each and every one Sogiita's flaming arrows with calculated strikes of his own. Each impact unleashed a burst of blinding white light, sending shockwaves rippling through the chaotic city.
"You think brute strength alone will defeat me?" the silver man taunted, his voice cutting through the chaos of battle. "You may be strong, but strength without strategy is nothing but raw power wasted."
Sogiita grinned, his confidence unshaken. "Strategies for cowards who can't handle a real fight," he retorted, his voice ringing with defiance. "I'll K.O. you with my fists and guts alone!!!!"
Rosencreutz's eyes narrowed as he parried another of Sogiita's punches. "Your arrogance will be your downfall," he warned, his tone tinged with certainty. "I may not match your overall speed, but I have something you lack: intellect and precision.”
Christian Rosencreutz then plunged his cross sword into the ground.
"This is what harmed Kamijou Touma," he declared, grinning and unleashing a torrent of lethal invisible attacks from his outstretched palms.
However, the #7 countered with a relentless barrage of flaming arrows from the thermal aftershock of his punches.
Each strike akin to a particle accelerator in its intensity and speed. That Gemstone was the particles being fired on the right and that True Expert was the particles fired on the left.
As the attacks clashed, the battlefield became a spectacle of raw power and precision.
“Roar!” CRC held his open palm to his mouth and blew gently on the tip of the middle finger.
That was all it took for a blaze easily outdoing a flamethrower to rush out. And this was not just any fire. It fed on the power of a ley line and stole vitality from space itself. This overwhelming mass of light and heat was wielded for no other purpose than to take lives. Anyone who tried to survive it using simple composite armor or special fibers would dry up and burn away in less than a second.
But that wouldn't kill another superhuman would it?
Of course not.
“Aaaaarghhhh!!!!” screamed the #7.
Some assaults bypassed the fray entirely, slipping through the chaos like elusive particles in a collider.
A smokescreen.
Those brilliant fireworks from hell weren't meant to take Sogiita’s life. They were meant to disrupt the Gemstone's senses and sight so he couldn't counter all of that old man’s deadly attacks.
Invisible strikes found their mark on that Gemstone, and the searing arrows of the arrows scorched Rosencreutz.
CRC was wounded but he rejected to make any whimpers. Instead with a sudden burst of velocity, the young silver man picked up his cross sword from the ground and launched a flurry of strikes, cutting at the #7’s body with pinpoint accuracy.
His arms, his head, his face, his stomach, his legs, his midsection, his back.
Each blow landed with devastating force, causing Sogiita to stagger back under the onslaught.
If that bandana boy hadn't had his defenses and general stats raised by the #5 he’d be cut to pieces.
The #7 fell on his back.
"There's a fire," Sogiita declared, his voice ringing out amidst the chaos of battle.
With each attempt to break his spirit, Sogiita's resolve only grew stronger, fueling the flames of his determination. "Every time someone tries to make me give up, it's like wind feeding my flames, making them burn even brighter just like my punches," he explained, his words carrying the weight of his unwavering determination.
He refused to stay down.
With a roar of defiance, Sogiita surged forward once more, his movements blurring with speed as he disappeared from view. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Christian Rosencreutz, catching the magician off guard.
"Hey, old man," Sogiita taunted, his voice filled with confidence as he seized Rosencreutz from behind.
Christian Rosencreutz's eyes widened in surprise as he realized he had been outmaneuvered.
As Sogiita Gunha faced off against Christian Rosencreutz in their airborne duel, he felt the flames of determination burning within him, driving him forward with unstoppable force.
Before he could react, the boy lifted him effortlessly and slammed him onto the pavement below with a resounding thud.
"I'm not just a kick-boxer!!" Sogiita sang.
As the impact reverberated through the air, the young silver man let out a pained cry. The force of the collision compressed the surrounding air, heating it up until it crackled with energy. Christian Rosencreutz's head struck the ground with a velocity equivalent to mach 20, igniting his body in flames upon impact.
This move is called a suplex.
Struggling to regain his bearings, Rosencreutz muttered in a daze, "The House of the Holy Spirit...the seven walls..."
"You said it yourself, didn't you?" the gutsy boy retorted, cocky. "My power and my guts can break through your impenetrable walls. And I can spread those same guts to the world around me."
With a grimace, Christian Rosencreutz acknowledged the truth of the boy's words. "Your uncontrolled AIM field grants you the ability to imbue non-organic objects with the properties of your virus," he observed, his voice tinged with begrudging admiration. "Allowing them to bypass even the defenses of the seven-walled tomb.”
"A virus? Don't be so gutless, CRC," the #7 retorted, his voice filled with defiance. "This battleground ruled by wills is a two-way road between you and me."
Christian Rosencreutz raised an eyebrow at the boy's words. "Hey Gemstone, you could've killed me if I weren't a superhuman with an idealized body that accomplished The Great Work and crossed the Ungrund, what then short-stack?" he questioned while fitting an insult against his height.
Even without the seven-walled tomb or sheets of diamonds Rosencreutz was cartoonishly durable.
"Sorry, old man," Sogiita retorted, a hint of irritation lacing his words at the jab about his height. "I may have let my enthusiasm get the better of me, but rest assured, I understand the magnitude of this battle. Just like the Hydra, no matter how many heads you regrow, I'll persevere until I've completed my labors.”
"Mhm, so you do know your mythology," CRC remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The Lernaean Hydra, or simply Hydra, is a serpentine lake monster in Greek and Roman mythology. Its lair was the lake of Lerna in the Argolid, known as an entrance to the Underworld. In the canonical myth, the monster is slain by Heracles as part of his Twelve Labors."
"Yeah, I know," Sogiita replied confidently. "I studied the tales of great gutsy heroes in school.”
"So, short-stack," Christian Rosencreutz began, his voice carrying a hint of scholarly interest. “Have you ever considered the parallels between our battle and ancient Near Eastern religions?”
Sogiita listened intently. "Are you saying you see yourself as a god of war or a hunter?" he inquired.
CRC chuckled softly. "In a sense, indeed. We are both assuming roles in this grand theater, are we not? I, the Hydra, and you, Heracles."
He continued, "Consider the Second Labor of Heracles. Eurystheus, the king of Tiryns, sent Heracles to slay the Hydra, which Hera had raised specifically to defeat him. Heracles approached the swamp near Lake Lerna, where the Hydra dwelled. To protect himself from the poisonous fumes, he covered his mouth and nose with a cloth and shot flaming arrows into the Hydra's lair, causing it to emerge and terrorize the surrounding villages."
CRC paused, drawing a comparison. “In our own clash, the flaming arrows that Heracles hurled at the Hydra find their echo in your lightning-fast fists, generating shockwaves that ignite the air with their speed and force. It's as though each strike of yours is akin to shooting a flaming arrow, much like Heracles did.”
“Huh? Are you suggesting we're caught in a time loop? That some enigmatic group, like the Bridge Builders Cabal, manipulated events to resurrect you, pitting us against each other in a timeless struggle? I've never met them, and I'm certainly no child of Zeus. Are you implying that our battle will be distorted into a Greek legend by a meddling time traveler?!” frantically asked the boy.
“No, no, you simpleton. This world contains synchronicities. In Sumerian, Babylonian, and Assyrian mythology, the war and hunting god Ninurta was celebrated for his deeds. The Angim credited him with slaying eleven monsters during an expedition to the mountains, including a seven-headed serpent, possibly identical to the Mushmahhu, and Bashmu, whose constellation was later associated with the Hydra by the Greeks. In Babylonian contexts, the Hydra's constellation is also linked to Marduk's dragon, the Mushhushshu.”
“Uhhh….” That shounen boy was dumbfounded.
"Hhm, I suppose calling it a time loop isn't technically wrong," Christian Rosencreutz began, his tone measured. "I'll break it down from history class and reconstruct it through the lens of the occult. Historic recurrence, young Gemstone, is the phenomenon of events echoing throughout time. Whether it's the rise and fall of empires or the repetitive cycles within a single society, it's all part of this grand plan that was decided when Adam ate the forbidden fruit."
The #7 with his guard up but curious listened: "So, history just keeps repeating itself? Just a series of coincidences?"
Christian Rosencreutz shook his head sagely. "There is no such thing as coincidences. Take, for instance, the Doctrine of Eternal Recurrence, pondered upon by thinkers like Heinrich Heine and Friedrich Nietzsche. While it's said that 'history repeats itself,' it's not quite that simple. Rather, these recurrences stem from identifiable circumstances and chains of causality."
He continued, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of philosophical debate. "Consider the phenomenon of multiple independent discoveries in science or the reproducible findings in natural and social sciences. These recurrences, whether in the form of rigorous experimentation or comparative research, are vital to our understanding of the world."
Christian Rosencreutz paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "G.W. Trompf, in his seminal work, The Idea of Historical Recurrence in Western Thought, illustrates the recurring patterns of political thought and behavior since ancient times. Through these patterns, history offers us invaluable lessons, often leading to a sense of resonance or déjà vu."
Their words reverberated like a challenge to destiny itself, a testament to their unyielding determination in the face of adversity.
That Gemstone didn't surrender his characteristic fervor. "History echoing through time, huh? It's like the universe itself is stuck on repeat, and we're just caught in the cycle. But you know what? If history's gonna keep looping, then let's break the pattern! Let's smash through those chains of causality and forge our own path. Who cares about déjà vu? We'll create something entirely new, something that'll shake the very foundations of this world and we’ll do it with guts!!!" He defied that silver monster.
But Rosencreutz wasn't finished. He pulled out his Crystal World Map.
The supposedly old man listened intently to that boy's impassioned response, his expression inscrutable behind his clairvoyant card. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke.
“Gemstone, you speak of breaking free from the chains of repetition, of forging a new destiny against the backdrop of eternal return. It is a noble aspiration, indeed. However, consider this: eternal return is not merely a philosophical concept or a whimsical notion of fate. It is the very fabric of existence, woven into the nature of time itself.” He pressed his finger on the Miniature Garden and a 3D holographic projection flew out—
“In ancient times, the Stoics grappled with the idea, seeing in it both a sense of cosmic order and a challenge to individual agency. Augustine and others recoiled from its implications, fearing it as a negation of free will and salvation. And yet, Nietzsche, in his brilliance, dared to confront the concept anew, exploring its depths in the crucible of human consciousness.”
Didn't Aleister Crowley say that he had to shatter every single phase in order to eliminate the concept of fate?
“I will shatter every last phase and put an end to all mysticism. It can be helped and we need not restrain our tears and bite our lip when faced with tragedy. I will bring back the pure world in which everyone can feel anger like normal and question it all like normal!!”
And didn't Coronzon appear to break down all the phases including the Pure World?
Partial destruction would be meaningless. If anything remains and an eternal distortion is born from that, then it will all happen again. I will eliminate the ten spheres, the twenty-two pathways, and the hidden eleventh symbol. Collisions between phases? Sparks and spray? You cannot save anyone if you only treat those symptoms. All of the fundamental clogs must be removed. All so we can pass the baton to whoever comes next.”
“Sparks and Sprays…” Rosencreutz muttered.
“Eh?” The #7 didn't quite hear him.
"Beside time stands fate, cruelty's steadfast herald. In the silent chambers of the soul, whispers the most profound wisdom. Humanity, in its folly, neglected to exalt life's splendor, its radiance, its grandeur. Truly, it is a rare gift to comprehend the forces that shape our existence.” That magician spoke in despair.
“From the moment man ate the fruit of knowledge, he guaranteed your species’ failure... Entrusting his future to the whims of fate, man clutches to a flickering hope. Yet, within the Miniature Garden lies the key to all revelation. Beyond the well-trodden path lies the ultimate terminus. It matters not who you are; Death is the sole certainty awaiting all.” he finished with scorn.
Shokuhou Misaki was currently linked to Sogiita Gunha so she was overhearing the entire conversation.
“Are you okay, Leader?” asked Kamijou back at the hospital.
“Yeah…” she responded.
*“Really?” Mikoto breathed a white sigh. “It wasn’t the shock of seeing their school destroyed. Nor was it the fear of having those rioters attack. …They’re afraid of their own power. And after learning how exactly to use that power to survive, they’re not sure they can just switch it off and return to their normal lives. So their gears have ground to a halt.”
Tokiwadai Middle School was a prestigious esper development school.*
The young ladies registered there were Level 3 at the lowest and Level 5 at the highest.
Almost all of the students had a power that surpassed that of a blade or handgun if used properly, but something had become twisted.
Yes.
“A lot of them weren’t really sure why they were training their powers.”
Shokuhou breathed a white breath, wrapped her own arms around herself, and rubbed her thighs together.
Why are you studying?
How many people could give a proper answer to that question? Because my parents told me to, because my teachers taught me to, because that’s how the world works. Those would be most people’s answers. Even the students with a clear vision of their future would only have something vague like “for the entrance exams” or “for my future”.
Only a small handful would have specific puzzle pieces in mind, such as “I need to learn how to use this equation so I can build a rocket”.
The young ladies of Tokiwadai Middle School were the same.
What if the very gears that humans have…their actions, reactions, inactions were all the result of some transcendental entity hovering above.
Like God or The Devil watching over humanity’s reality sphere and ordering around his system like everyone was a pre-programmed NPC that had specific events occur to them to get them to develop in the way that they did and determined their genetic bloodline that composed their psyche?
Is there truly a free will?
It was said that in order for you to break out of the system of society that the working class was stuck in you had to climb to the top where the corrupt elites resided.
Imagine Breaker negated sparks, Aleister Crowley could see through the veil thanks to Holy Guardian Angel Aiwass, Great Demon Coronzon could always see the cogs.
Christian Rosencreutz could view the entire world through his Miniature Garden.
The rest of humanity was at the mercy of their own destinies.
A Guardian Angel wouldn't arrive to save a parent’s child from fate every single time.
"Okay, nice poetry, can we get back to fighting already?" asked the #7 impatiently.
"Seems I got carried away," the old man conceded with a nod. "The synchronicities of this world, akin to the astral configurations in astrology, serve as an example of synchronicity, according to Jung. It describes circumstances that appear meaningfully related yet lack a causal connection, much like the parallel relationship between celestial and terrestrial phenomena. Synchronicity experiences entail subjective encounters where coincidences between events in one's mind and the external world may lack a clear causal link but still harbor an unknown connection.”
"Ah," Sogiita chimed in, recalling his philosophy class discussions. "We talked about synchronicity back then. Jung thought it was a good thing for the mind, but said it could get dicey in psychosis. He cooked up this theory as a kind of mental link between those meaningful coincidences, calling it a noncausal principle. This term came about in the late 1920s, and then he teamed up with physicist Wolfgang Pauli to dive deeper. Their work, The Interpretation of Nature and the Psyche, dropped in 1952. They were big on this idea that these connections, even the ones that don't seem to have a cause, could still teach us a lot about how our minds and the world work."
“Mhm, you know more than you lead on, Gemstone.” pondered CRC.
“Oh this? My teachers say I'm not good at remembering speeches hahaha…” The #7 looked slightly nervous. “You know, analytical psychologists really push for folks to get what these experiences mean to boost their awareness instead of just feeding into superstitions. But funny thing is, when clients spill about their synchronicity experiences, they often feel like no one's really hearing them out, or getting where they're coming from. And hey, having a bunch of these meaningful coincidences flying around can sometimes ring the schizo bell. Delusions aren't healthy.”
Where was this conversation going?
"Delusion! Hah! That's a good one coming from you," CRC fired back.
"The real delusion is thinking humanity isn't worth a darn," Sogiita shot back, pulling out some info from Johansen and Osman. "Some scientists think coincidences are just random flukes, but counselors and psychoanalysts reckon there's more to it, like some deep-down stuff needing to come out. Unconscious material to be expressed."
Rosencreutz interjected, his expression reflecting a mix of confusion and concern. "Aleister Crowley's actions have left a lasting scar on this world and this city," he began, his voice weighted with solemnity. “The vacuum-like dichotomy between magic and science created by the use of that colossal psychotronic weapon, has damaged this world's memory almost irreparably.”
Psychotronic weapon?
The Archetype Controller?
He paused, his gaze piercing as he continued, "Jung's exploration of synchronicity as evidence of the paranormal paved the way for further inquiry, notably by Koestler and the subsequent embrace of these ideas by the New Age movement.”
Sogiita shrugged, "Some folks say synchronicity is impossible to test or prove, so it gets labeled as pseudoscience. Jung even acknowledged that these synchronicity events are basically just coincidences, statistically speaking. But hey, who's to say what's really going on without some solid scientific studies, right?"
"Dubious as his experiments may have been," CRC interrupted, "Jung believed in a connection between synchronicity and the paranormal, drawing parallels to the uncertainty principle and works by parapsychologist Joseph B. Rhine.” CRC posed a thought-provoking question, "How are we to recognize acausal combinations of events, since it is obviously impossible to examine all chance happenings for their causality? The answer lies in the fact that acausal events are most readily expected where a causal connection appears inconceivable upon closer reflection. It's impossible, with our current resources, to explain ESP or meaningful coincidences as mere phenomena of energy. This challenges the very notion of cause and effect, as these events occur simultaneously rather than in a linear cause-and-effect manner. Hence, I have coined the term 'synchronicity' to describe this phenomenon, placing it on equal footing with causality as a principle of explanation."
Getting closer to that Gemstone, CRC emphasized, "Esper abilities cannot be fully understood with science alone. They defy traditional cause-and-effect explanations, instead representing a convergence of factors that create a quantum phenomenon affecting both the micro and macro. Why were there the naturally gifted and the naturally ungifted?”
Why did some students get praised for their abilities while others needed to work harder?
Others among them would have worked every hour of their free time and not progressed anywhere in this city’s leveling curriculum.
Why did this city present such an unfair and unpredictable status quo of potential?
Why did hard work barely matter in a city of empirical evidence to record any possible progress?
Sogiita Gunha wasn't a normal Level 5 but he wasn't always this powerful. He went through the curriculum same as everyone but if the outside conditions for his Gemstone ability to manifest didn't form in the exact way that it did, in such an acausal form then would he even be here to challenge Christian Rosencreutz right now?
Everything just happened to fall right into place.
All those puzzle pieces that would lead to this moment here and now.
Was it all just talent? God picking a fool as his champion?
The #7 leaned back, absorbing CRC's words with a thoughtful expression. "So, what you're saying is, there's this whole other layer to reality that we can't quite wrap our heads around," he summarized, nodding slowly. "I mean, it's like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands—slippery and elusive."
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Historic recurrence, synchronicities, all these things—they're like pieces of a puzzle scattered across this substantial reality. And sometimes, they just... click into place, right? It's like the universe has its own plan, and we're just along for the ride."
That bandana wearing boy's gaze drifted, lost in thought. "You know, CRC, it's funny," he remarked, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Here we are, with all our powers and potential, but at the end of the day, we're still grappling with the same questions as everyone else. Talent, destiny, divine intervention—maybe they're all just different sides of the same coin."
He shrugged, the weight of the philosophical musings settling over the broken city. "Who knows? Maybe God does have a sense of humor, after all.” that boy chuckled.
There was a deep silence between them.
Rosencreutz’ response was swift and resolute, his tone filled with certainty. "All this ‘universe has a plan’ banter is just a distraction from the inevitable," he declared, his eyes narrowing. "We can debate the nature of us being all-powerful yet struggling with mortal issues until the sun burns out, but it won't change the fact that our fate was sealed upon the knowledge Adam learned."
“To think so many trivialities have developed while this old man wasn’t watching. Heh heh. Then I should assume the thread of fate has again begun to weave its strange connections between myself and some unknown human.”
He rose forward, his movements purposeful. "It's time to put an end to this dance of platitudes," CRC continued, his voice cold and unwavering. "We'll settle this the only way that somewhat matters—through objective action in this grand play."
“Silence, preserved doll. Illusionists are meant to remain silent. That is all we magicians are: wielders of substanceless illusions. Opening your mouth serves only to break the illusion.”
With a flicker of resolve in his eyes, he locked gazes with the #7. "I am Hydra, Gemstone," he said, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "Our battle ends now.” CRC opened both his palms and began shooting at their surroundings, the buildings, the pavement, the apartments, the rubble.
It probably wasn't random as it seemed to create a pattern.
“Huh are you getting senile old man?” asked the young Gemstone.
“What fun. I never imagined someone would bother diligently polishing their skills this far while knowing it is all essentially an illusion. Didn’t you ever feel silly going to the effort?”
Rosencreutz dropped to all fours, his rosy cross sword gripped tightly in his right hand.
He moved—
“Arrgh!” Sogiita yelled amidst the relentless and precise and precise strikes from that golden cross. “Old man?” he asked.
That magician didn't say anything.
That silver man’s movements became more beastly.
Faster.
Stronger.
Fiercer.
Something new was beginning to manifest.
With each strike of his higher dimensional blade that old man’s blows seemed infused with an otherworldly energy.
The wounds inflicted by his weapon burned with a venomous intensity, sending searing pain coursing through Sogiita's body.
That boy grimaced as the poison from that silver man’s strikes surged through his being, each wound feeling like it was ablaze with venomous fire.
"Damn... That burns…like a killer hornet’s sting," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice strained with effort. Gritting, he fought to maintain his focus, despite the agony threatening to overwhelm him.
Was this another application of The Four Stages? Citrinitas? No, there was nothing yellow here, it was more like a dirty purple.
But it wasn't just the physical damage that posed a threat.
As the Rosy Cross leader leaped on all fours his movements took on an almost erratic quality, he was bouncing from one building to another with an animalistic agility.
With each jump, a shockwave rippled through the air, carrying with it a palpable sense of dread.
Something was spreading.
The air around them seemed to thicken with a toxic miasma. The #7 struggled to breathe, the noxious fumes clouding his senses.
Like a chaotic monster’s venomous poison breath.
The once-clear air now felt thick and suffocating.
Gasping for breath, the bandana boy struggled to maintain his focus amidst the swirling chaos.
His vision blurred, his movements sluggish as he fought against the oppressive atmosphere.
Blinded that heroic boy could only fire a flame arrow without his sight.
His fists striking out with all the strength he could muster. Igniting in that poisonous compressed air.
It seemed to be flammable like a dragon’s breath.
???
At the hospital, Shokuhou's voice carried a mix of surprise and relief. “He caused real damage.” she exclaimed.
Kamijou turned his attention to her, intrigued. “What happened?”
“It's hard to see clearly, but it looks like the #7 managed to blast off CRC's left arm,” she explained. “Though, I'd say it was more of a lucky shot. I can read he acted on pure instinct.”
Kamijou nodded, a hint of melancholy in his tone. “Yeah... the psychic link and all.”
Had the #7 Level 5 given up on the old man?
Back on the battlefield, Sogiita cursed under his breath. “Dammit... Sorry, old man,” he muttered. “I was aiming to hit your whole body to maximize the surface area, maybe break a few bones as a casualty. We can probably get your arm reattached at the hospital. Heaven Canceller has enough guts to even fix me.”
It was clear—he hadn't given up.
It was an accidental strike of his arm.
“As each ghastly head was severed from its serpentine form, dreadfully, two more writhed forth from the abyss.” a cryptic voice amidst the chaos spoke.
Wasn't it said that the Hydra’s lair was the lake of Lerna in the Argolid.
Lerna was reputed to be an entrance to the Underworld.
The abyss.
The Ungrund.
There is no limit to the depth of the Alcyonian Lake, and I know of nobody who by any contrivance has been able to reach the bottom of it since not even Nero, who had ropes made several stades long and fastened them together, tying lead to them, and omitting nothing that might help his experiment, was able to discover any limit to its depth. This, too, I heard. The water of the lake is, to all appearance, calm and quiet but, although it is such to look at, every swimmer who ventures to cross it is dragged down, sucked into the depths, and swept away.
The keeper of the gate to the Underworld that lay in the waters of Lerna was the Hydra.
The serpentine Lake Monster.
“Rosencreutz……?” The #7 muttered.
That magician chuckled ominously. "No, young Heracles, Hydra." he intoned, his voice echoing with a bizarre resonance. “The Lernaean Hydra's curse is upon you now.” as he said that he cut off a bit of his arm that was cuterarised with his golden blade and it began bleeding.
Anna Sprengel’s blood was said to create unknown miracles when spilled.
Christian Rosencreutz’ blood was so virulent that even its scent was deadly.
As Sogiita Gunha glanced at his severed arm lying on the ground, a creeping sense of horror enveloped him. "All of fate is a curse and that curse," he murmured, his words barely audible over the din of battle, "extends even to my severed limb.”
Christian Rosencreutz’ left arm grew back.
No.
Two new arms grew in its place.
The fate of chaoskampf? The hero battling the dragon?
The arm was fully functioning with no defects.
Although one of the arms appeared somewhat scaly and lanky like a serpent.
It had human anatomy but something was abnormal here.
He almost looked like a spider as he emerged from the poisonous fog as he remained on all fours.
“So short-stack. Are you ready to complete your final labor: Crossing the abyss!!!” He challenged that boy with his cross sword facing him.
"Boss, what's up? You look kinda stuck," Kamijou asked, his tone concerned.
Two students were sitting together in the waiting room at a hospital.
"—abyss, Hydra, curse, synchronicities, Historic recurrence." she replied, her words carrying a weight of unease.
"Huh? What? Can you give me the lowdown?" Kamijou prodded, his urgency evident.
"Can't quite wrap my head around it. But what I can tell you is that after CRC started talking about these esoteric concepts, he leveled up his power ability, managed to seriously hurt the #7 despite me cranking up all his stats for the win condition," the honey-blonde girl explained, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Can you beam all that stuff into my head, like a memory download? You're a psychological esper, right? My right hand won't mess with it, and we've done the telepathy thing before," Kamijou suggested.
"Memory download's not quite it, but I can send you a recording," she clarified.
"Got it," Kamijou muttered as he absorbed the info.
"You got any ideas to help the #7’s situation ability, Kamijou-san? We're kinda desperate here," she asked.
"I wish Index was still here, dammit.” he lamented, “But you know about magic, right?" he queried.
"Yeah, people converting their delusions into reality right?," she admitted.
"Well, magic's not just about delusions; it can be tied up to the whole world. Not sure if it's relevant, but based on Idol Theory, Rosencreutz might be pulling in 'energy’ from the Greek 'phase’ of Heracles for an edge," Kamijou theorized.
"Like a chessboard flip?" Shokuhou Misaki inquired, her brow furrowed with concern.
"No, more like... imagine you're playing checkers with a buddy, and you're totally crushing it because you're a checkers pro. Then suddenly, your buddy switches it up and challenges you to an arm wrestling match, and you lose because, well, arm wrestling isn't your forte," Kamijou Touma explained, trying to paint a vivid picture.
"So, by taking on the role of the Hydra from Greek myth, he's essentially forcing the #7 into the role of Heracles? But didn't Heracles defeat the Hydra?" Shokuhou sought clarification.
"Yeah, but..." Kamijou recalled the tale from the movies he'd seen. "Lichas gave Heracles a shirt soaked in the Hydra's poisonous blood from his arrows, which ends up killing him by tearing his flesh down to the bone," he elaborated.
"It was actually Nessus seeking vengeance and tricking Deianira into giving it to Heracles as a gift, delivered by Lichas without disclosing the tunic's lethal bloodstained secret from the Lernaean Hydra, but you're right," Shokuhou corrected gently. "So, Rosencreutz is harnessing the power of that legend to slowly poison the #7?"
"Not literal. I mean the poison is real but his slashes do significant harm now so it's more like shifting the paradigm in his favor…shifting his position.” The spiky-haired boy wasn't in the mood to explain Phases, “Earlier, he mentioned Sogiita spreading his 'virus' throughout the world. A virus isn't a poison in the traditional sense, but the Rosicrucians originally sought to create a universal cure for all illnesses. Now, CRC is spreading a literal poison, positioning himself as the ultimate predator and his opponents as prey rather than his savior role, the paradigm has been shifted." Kamijou concluded, his voice tinged with gravity.
“So he’s changed the environment to get the win condition? The #7’s durability doesn't matter in the face of the world being forced to go about a certain way because of Rosencreutz stage play?” The girl asked.
“Yeah…if things keep going this way…Sogiita will….goddamnit….” The spiky haired boy swore. “I can't let someone else die after all that's happened but I feel like if I go out there I really will kill him…” he muttered that last bit while clenching his right fist that began shaking uncontrollably.
The girl’s eyes seemed confused.
“What did you say?” The honey blonde middle schooler asked.
“Nothing, just mumbling to myself.” he spat out.
That boy and girl could never come to the right conclusion on their own without the aid of former Magic God Othinus by their side.
“Did you think I had challenged you with no hope of succeeding, you cesspool? The magic born on earth is bound by the directions based on the earth’s magnetic field and by the density and composition of the air which is determined by air pressure which is in turn influenced by gravity. That is inevitable when you are focused on the cardinal directions of north, south, east, and west or on the basic elements of fire, water, wind, and earth. But what you will find upon leaving the atmosphere is an unknown. Coronzon, are you sure there will be no malfunction in the magic giving you control of Avatar Lola? And before, my power was bound by the puny speck named earth which failed to become a black hole or even a sun, but once we enter outer space, just how far do you think that power will be released? I do not mind at all that I will lose the support of Academy City.”
Well the boy was half right.
“Let us test it out, you cuspidor. On one side, we have you using the planet and bound to an avatar. On the other, we have me exposed and freed from the planet. Now, who will be the star of this show?”
Christian Rosencreutz did not shoot at his surroundings for no reason.
The battlefield transformed into Rosencreutz's canvas, resembling the legendary battleground of Lerna where Heracles once clashed with the Hydra.
Yes.
He didn't unleash his powers randomly; every action was deliberate.
In the magical side of Idol Theory, mimicking an object, event, or person allowed one to tap into a fraction of its power.
And that even applied to locations that essentially worked as stage plays.
Idol Theory was so absolute that even the basic cross held a portion of the son of God’s power.
As Above, So Below.
As Below, So Above.
Macro to micro.
Micro to macro.
And the macrocosm and the microcosm are always linked.

Introduction

In this post, we'll be discussing something called "Virtue Ethics." This is a normative theory of ethics that's most associated with Aristotle, though has in recent times experienced a resurgence of sorts from modern philosophers, some of whom have tweaked and modified it, and in doing so have created different branches on this tree of moral theory. We will be comparing these different flavors of Virtue Ethics to that of the New Testament's, pointing out where they're similar, as well as highlighting where the NT differs (and is actually superior) from the heathens' views.
I want to preface all this with a verse and a warning:

"Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ."-Colossians 2:8

The entire Bible, over and over again, warns against syncretism. It's a running theme throughout to condemn the practice, with this verse being one of the more explicit ones to do so.
Mapping the ideas of Pagans (and especially Greek philosophers) onto the Scriptures has always resulted in people severely misinterpreting the Bible, as looking at the Word of God through a Hellenistic lens is and always has been extremely innapropiate to the author's original intent.
Whenever Greek philosophy or ideas are referenced, they're always portrayed in a bad light or otherwise used to make a point. Examples of the latter could be found in the apostle Paul's writings, as he was a fully educated Roman citizen of his day, and so he made use of known Hellenestic philosophy and literature (that he would have been familiar with) by redefining their terms and ideas in a way that would be consistent with the theology of his own religion. The apostle Peter did the same within his own epistles whenever he mentioned "Tartarus," the abyss/prison for certain disobedient angels that rebelled against God, despite the fact that the word has its roots in Greek mythology and not Hebrew religion (though, the belief that there were a group of spiritual beings that rebelled against the highest authority in the heavens was one technically shared between the two ancient cultures; even if the parties involved were vastly different, as well as the contexts of the rebellion itself).
The affect Hellenstic philosophy has had on the way people think (even subconsciously) can still be felt to this day, and can be seen in the confusion modern "Christianity" has brought on through its adoption of Gnostic teachings such as Dualism or the inherently fatalistic views that many unknowingly hold due to the error of Classical Theism.
While yes, I will be commending the heathen (unbeliever) whenever they are right with their ideas as pertaining to this subject, I will also show where they are wrong.
Let's begin.

"What Is Virtue Ethics?"

First, we need to define some terms and point out the differences between this view and others within the larger debate of normative ethics.
There are three major approaches in normative ethics, those being: Consequentalism, Deontology, and Virtue Ethics. The following are definitions of the terms:
Consequentialism – a class of normative, teleological ethical theories that holds that the consequences of one's conduct are the ultimate basis for judgement about the rightness or wrongness of that conduct.
Deontology – theories where an action is considered morally good because of some characteristic of the action itself, not because the product of the action is good. Deontological ethics holds that at least some acts are morally obligatory regardless of their consequences for human welfare.
Virtue Ethics – theories that emphasize the role of character and virtue in moral philosophy rather than either doing one’s duty or acting in order to bring about good consequences. The virtue ethicist would argue that actions themselves, while important, aren't as important as the character behind them. To the virtue ethicist, consequences are also important, but they would say that good consequences ultimately flow from a virtuous character who has made virtuous decisions. Theories of virtue ethics do not aim primarily to identify universal principles that can be applied in any moral situation, instead teaching that the best decisions can vary based on context, and that there are only some actions that would be universally evil, only because those actions could never flow from a virtuous character in the first place (e.g., rape).
Aristotle's idea of ethics is in an important respect different from most people's, especially today. Heirs as we are to Kant’s idea of duty – there is a right thing that one ought to do, as rational beings who respect other persons – and to Mill’s idea of utility – the right thing to do is that which produces the greatest good for the greatest number – most of us see ethics as concerned with actions. "The function of ethics is to help me see what I ought to do in a given situation," the modern says. Aristotle’s approach was different. His ethic is not so much concerned about helping us to see what we ought to do, as about what sort of person we ought to be.
Aristotle was concerned with character, and with the things that go to make up good and bad character; virtues and vices. His sort of ethic does not look at our action to see if it fulfils our duty, or produces a certain outcome, such as the greatest good of the greatest number, and therefore merits approval. Instead, it looks at us; at the character behind the actions, to see whether we merit approval.
Comparing Virtue Ethics with philosophies such as Deontology and Consequentialism, we are able to divide ethical theories into two kinds; act-centered theories and agent-centered theories. Kant’s (Deontological) and Mill’s (Utilitarian) approaches are act-centered, because they concern themselves with our actions, whilst Aristotle’s is agent-centered because it concerns itself with the character of a person, which in his view was ourselves and our own dispositions that prompt our actions.
Both approaches have ardent present-day advocates, and so both are alive and well. Virtue Ethicists are dissatisfied with the answers ‘modern’ act-centered philosophy offers, and look for a more flexible, person-centered approach that takes more account of the subtle varieties of human motivation. Those in this camp see ethics as being about people – moral agents – rather than merely about actions. Of course, your actions matter. But, for Aristotle and his present day advocates alike, they matter as expressions of the kind of person you are. They indicate such qualities as kindness, fairness, compassion, and so on, and it is these qualities and their corresponding vices that it is the business of ethics to approve or disapprove.
All this seems simple and uncontroversial; there are two ways of looking at an action to evaluate it morally. You can take the action in isolation and judge it, or take the agent and judge him or her.
Virtue ethicists argue that act-centered ethics are narrow and bloodless. What is needed is a richer moral vocabulary than just ‘right and wrong’. There are subtle but important differences between actions that are good because they are kind and those that are good because they are generous, and those that are good because they are just. Likewise, there are subtle but important differences between actions that are bad because they are selfish and those that are bad because they are cruel and those that are bad because they are unfair. These, and many other, distinctions are lost when we talk simply about doing one’s duty, or promoting utility. Questions of motive and of character are lost, in these asceptic terms. Modern moral philosophy won’t do: it is cold, technical and insensitive to the many kinds and degrees of value expressed in human actions. Ethics is more than just thought experiments and hypotheticals about what would be the right course of action to take in any given situation we might conjure up from the comfort of our armchair. Ethics is about doing, and about context and character.

The Different Kinds of "Virtue Ethics"

Virtue Ethics has has been developed in two main directions: Eudaimonism, and agent-based theories.
Eudaimonism (Aristotle's view) bases virtues in human flourishing, where flourishing is equated with performing one’s distinctive function well. In the case of humans, Aristotle argued that our distinctive function is reasoning, and so the life “worth living” is one which we reason well. He also believed that only free men in the upper classes of society (i.e., the aristocrats) could excel in virtue and eschew vice, being that such men had greater access to the means in accomplishing this task as they had the wealth and resources to better perform their distinctive function of 'reasoning,' and thus "live well." For the Eudaimonian, inner dispositions are what one ought to focus on in order to cultivate virtuous traits, and thus a virtuous character.
In contrast, an agent-based theory emphasizes that virtues are determined by common-sense intuitions that we as observers judge to be admirable traits in other people. There are a variety of human traits that we find admirable, such as benevolence, kindness, compassion, etc., and we can identify these by looking at the people we admire, our moral exemplars. Agent-based theories also state that the motivations and intentions behind an action are ultimately what determine whether or not said action is actually virtuous. Whereas Eudaimonism understands the moral life in terms of inner dispositions or proclivities to act in certain ways (whether righteous or wicked, just or unjust, kind or cruel, etc.), agent-based theories are more radical in that their evaluation of actions is dependent on ethical judgments about the inner life of the agents who perform those actions, that is, what the motivations and intents are of a person.
[Note: While both Eudaimonism and agent-based theories are both agent-centered, Eudaimonism is not to be confused with an agent-based theory. Both branches concern themselves more with agents rather than acts themselves, but Eudamonism focuses on the self to improve whereas the agent-based theory focuses on others to improve.]

Common Critcisims Toward Secular Forms of Virtue Ethics

Firstly, Eudaimonism provides a self-centered conception of ethics because "human flourishing" (here defined as simply fulfilling our base function as humans, which is "reason" according to this view) is seen as an end in itself and does not sufficiently consider the extent to which our actions affect other people. Morality requires us to consider others for their own sake and not because they may benefit us. There seems to be something wrong with aiming to behave compassionately, kindly, and honestly merely because this will make oneself happier or "reason well."
Secondly, both Eudaimonism and agent-based theories also don't provide guidance on how we should act, as there are no clear principles for guiding action other than “act as a virtuous person would act given the situation.” Who is a virtuous person? Who is the first or universal exemplar?
Lastly, the ability to cultivate the right virtues will be affected by a number of different factors beyond a person’s control due to education, society, friends and family. If moral character is so reliant on luck, what role does this leave for appropriate praise and blame of the person? For the Eudaimonian, one ought to be born into a status of privilege if they wish to excel in being virtuous. For the proponent of an agent-based theory, one ought to be born into a society or family with good role models and preferably be raised by such, else they have no moral exemplars to emulate.

The New Testament's Virtue Ethic

The New Testament authors didn’t sit down and do a self-consciously philosophical exercise, for this was not what they were concerned with. They were concerned with giving practical instruction to disciples of the faith, and merely trying to express the ethical implications of their spiritual experience. That being said, we know the apostle Paul was familiar with the writings of Aristotle. We can actually identify places where Paul displays knowledge of Aristotle and incorporates some of the philosopher's ideas into his own epistles. Before we do this, however, it's important we refute common misnomers about what the Bible teaches concerning ethics in general.
You probably have heard many attack the ethics of the New Testament as being primitive and simplistic. "God dictates universal commands to follow: 'do not lie,' do 'not divorce,' 'do not insult.' And the only motivating factor is escaping hellfire and obtaining the reward of eternal pleasure." But in reality, this is a gross misrepresentation of the ethics laid out in the NT. I will argue the NT advocates for a form of virtue ethics, instead of claiming the NT contains a form of deontic ethics, as it is so often assumed.
Elizabeth Anscombe was one of the most influential virtue ethicists of the 20th century. Her work helped to revive virtue ethics in the modern era, however she also criticized the ethics of the Bible for promoting a form of ethics different than what Aristotle promoted:
"...between aristotle and us came Christianity, with its law conception of ethics. For Christianity derived its ethical notions from the Torah. (One might be inclined to think that a law conception of ethics could arise only among people who accepted an allegedly divine positive law..." (Modern Moral Philosophy, vol. 33, no. 124, 1-19)
We've already dealt with the issue of the Torah in another post. The Torah is not laying down moral laws, but describing justice in the form of ancient Near Eastern wisdom literature. But does the New Testament teach a deontic form of ethics? Anscombe might appear justified in her claim, as some "Christian" theologians have explicitly taught the ethics of the NT is deontic.
However, other theologians have argued the ethics of the NT is best characterized as a form of virtue ethics. In a study of the NT, we'll support this notion. As noted earlier, one of the central features of this approach to ethics is that the aim of ethics should be on living a virtuous life. Other forms of ethics focus on directing actions when confronted with a moral dilemma, but for virtue ethics every action is a moral or immoral action because all of our actions contribute or do not contribute to living a virtuous life. In other words, for a virtue ethicist, everything we do will contribute to living a fulfilled life. Now, the NT promotes a similar idea with a slight modification. The NT changes the distinctictive function and purpose for man in Eudaimonism from "reasoning" to loving God and others instead, and thus "living well" is changed from self-centered 'flourshing' (as defined by Aristotle) to glorifying God instead. The apostles taught everything we do contributes to living a life that glorifies God:

"Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God."-1 Corinthians 10:31
"And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him."-Colossians 3:17

So we see the same idea in Paul, that everything we do can be seen as a moral or immoral action. Everything we do should be seen as contributing to living a life that glorifies god or not. As a believer, the aim is not just doing good actions to avoid punishments, but to see everything we do as glorifying God. On secular virtue ethics, all our actions are either advancing a good life or not: nourishing your body contributes to living a good life. In a Biblical context: taking the time to properly dress contributes to living a good life, and not giving into the sin of sloth. So all our actions can be moral actions in this context, and so likewise for Paul and Jesus, all we do can contribute to living a life that glorifies God.
Since God made our bodies to thrive and enjoy life, we should nourish our bodies so we can thrive as God intended for our bodies to do, thus ultimately glorifying Him. Since we were created to experience and feel enjoyment, laughing and enjoying things throughout life glorifies God as well since we're experiencing emotions that God created to be experienced. Everything we do should be to glorify God, and often all that is is living our lives in the way that they were intended to be lived. Biblical ethics is very much more than merely performing right actions, but living a virtuous life that brings glory to God.
As Jesus said:

"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind."-Matthew 22:37b

It is also important to focus on what it means to love, which is an important aspect of what it means to be a believer. Paul makes the radical claim that to love is the entirety of the law of God:

"For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself."-Galatians 5:14

Jesus also taught that to love God and love others were the two greatest commandments (Mark 12:28-31, Matt. 22:34-40). He also extends the commandment to love beyond one's brethren, and to love our enemies (Matt. 5:44). Loving those around us is central to what it means to be a believer (John 13:34; 15:12-17, Rom. 12:10; 13:8, 1 Cor. 13:1-8; 16:14, 2 Cor. 8:8, Eph. 4:2; 5:2, Phili. 1:9, Heb. 10:24, Jam. 2:8, 1 Pet. 1:22, 1 John 2:10; 3:23).
One might suggest this is no different than the Golden Rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do to you," or a Kantian rule: "I ought never to act except in such a way that I could also will that my maxim should become a universal law." In other words, "to live well is to perform good deeds or actions and nothing more." But an important point about loving someone is it cannot be done through actions alone. For example, one could buy a gift for their spouse to cheer them up. However, one could perform this action merely because they value performing right actions without any love for the person. One could donate to charity because it is the right thing to do, and not because she cares for the people who would benefit. In such scenarios, they can be seen as idolizing moral laws, not necessarily caring about helping others.
But to love someone requires more than merely performing right actions. You cannot love someone and not care about who they are as a person and where they are heading in life. To love is to will the good of the other. Jesus chastised the Pharisees of his day for only performing right actions, but not loving their brethren in their hearts. His criticism follows Matthew chapter 22, where Jesus says the greatest commandments are to love. The implication is the Pharisees perform proper actions, but have the wrong motivations for doing so. James Keenan puts it like this:
"Essential to understanding this command is that we love our neighbors not as objects of our devotion, but rather as subjects; that is, as persons. Thus, we cannot love others only because God wants us to do so, since then we would love them as means or as objects and not as persons. We can only love one another as subjects, just as God loves us." (Jesus and Virtue Ethics: Building Bridges Between New Testament Studies and Moral Theology, pg. 86)
A critic may bring up that verses of the NT are still phrased as commands, and therefore the structure implies duties were the central aspect of Christian ethics. But the importance of duties is not foreign to Virtue Ethics. Instead of being central to the ethical framework, duties flow from a virtuous character. Virtues are active and have certain demands for which a person must fulfill in their active behavior.
According to Aristotle, knowledge of the virtues gives us practical wisdom in how to properly act. Duties flow from the understanding of the demands of virtues. To put it another way, for virtues to manifest in persons, they have certain demands that must be fulfilled. For the believer, the command of love flows from being virtuous and aligning oneself with the character of God. Commitment to the character of Christ, who perfectly carried out the will of the Father, allows us to perform right and proper actions.
The NT also contains lists of virtues the believer ought to emulate, the most famous of these is in Galatians chapter 5:
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law." (vss. 22-23)
Now, the connection with Aristotle cannot be more pronounced. The Greek phrase "against such there is no law" is almost identical to what we find in Aristotle's politics (3.13.1284a). It seems clear Paul is teaching a similar ethical framework to what Aristotle advocated for. Paul is teaching that the believing community ought to be persons who display key virtues, and that their conduct would not need to be regulated by a law. Instead, their character should be the standard others can measure themselves by. Romans chapter 2 is also a place we see references to Aristotle, where Paul notes that when Gentiles do what the law requires, they are "a law unto themselves" (vss. 14-15). In other words, they do not need to be told to act a certain way. They have the proper virtuous character that directs their actions, to do the good the law requires. Paul is advocating in Galatians that believers should think in a similar way.
So in Galatians 5, we have affinity with the teachings of Aristotle, and in other lists of virtues throughout the NT we see a similar idea, which is that Christians were meant to display virtues primarily (Rom. 5:3-5, 1 Cor. 13:1-8, Col. 3:12-17, 1 Tim. 3:2-3; 4:7-8, Jam. 3:17-18, 2 Pet. 1:5-8). From that, good deeds will properly manifest in our actions.
Anscombe made a great point on what the focus of ethics should be:
"It would be a great improvement if, instead of 'morally wrong', one always named a genus such as 'untruthful', 'unchaste', 'unjust'. We should no longer ask whether doing something was 'wrong', passing directly from some description of an action to this notion; we should ask whether, e.g., it was unjust; and the answer would sometimes be clear at once." (Modern Moral Philosophy, vol. 33, no. 124, 1-19)
Interestingly enough, Paul lays out a similar idea in explaining Christian ethics:

"Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you."-Philippians 4:8-9

In other words, the central aspect on living a Christian life was on what is virtuous, not on what is lawfully right or wrong. Right actions flow from whatever is honorable, true, and pure. Correlating with this is how Paul responds to the Corinthians who claimed that "all was lawful." Paul reminded them the emphasis is not on what is lawful, but on what is good for building a virtuous character:

"All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not."-1 Corinthians 10:23

One's main focus ought to be on what is good, not on laws that dictate behavior.
One of the key aspects of Virtue Ethics is the idea we ought to learn from virtuous teachers and imitate them. A virtuous character is obtained by imitating what a virtuous person does. This parallels a key aspect of Christian ethics. Imitating Christ was (and still is) crucial to living a virtuous life:

"For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps:"-1 Peter 2:21

Paul says in Romans 8:29 that Christians were predestined "to be conformed to the image of his Son." Jesus often taught his followers to do as he does (Matt. 16:24, Mark 8:34, Luke 6:40; 9:23, John 13:15, 34). Paul says in 1st Corinthians 11: Be ye followers [i.e., imitators] of me, even as I also am of Christ" (vs. 1). Hebrews 13:7 says to imitate the faith of the patriarchs. 1st Thessalonians 2:14 says to imitate each other. And jesus taught to imitate the good Samaritan from his parable (Luke 10:37). Imitating virtuous teachers was key for Christian ethics.
Aristotle tended to compare acquiring virtues with that of learning a practical skill, like playing an instrument or learning how to become a builder. Such practical skills are best picked up when trained by a master of that particular skill, because a teacher can always provide more insight through lessons they learn from experience. For example, an expert salesman can provide examples from his experience of what works with specific customers that a sales textbook could never provide. Many professions today require on-the-job training or experience before even hiring an applicant. The reason is: experience is key to learning a profession. Merely acquiring knowledge from a textbook or an instruction manual is often insufficient to master a skill, so why would mastering the skill of virtue be any different?
In the NT, a believer is to see the world through the eyes of Christ and to love as he loved. One cannot learn how to be a virtuous person without knowing what that life would look like. A key component of Christian theology is that the Messiah perfectly represented the Father and His will on earth, to show us how to properly live as God intended for man. This central tenet of the NT aligns well with agent-based theories of Virtue Ethics, and modifies it so that the person of Jesus Christ is the universal exemplar that one is meant to emulate. We are called to imitate him through our actions, thoughts, and desires, and to conform ourselves to the way he lived. As Paul said:

"I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me."-Galatians 2:20

If learning from Christ is key, we should briefly take a look at the Sermon on the Mount, which is said to be one of Jesus' most important series of teachings. Daniel Harrington notes:
"The sermon begins with nine 'beatitudes' (see 5:3–12) in which Jesus declares as 'happy' or 'blessed' those who practice certain virtues, and promises them an eternal reward and the fullness of God's kingdom." (Jesus and Virtue Ethics: Building Bridges Between New Testament Studies and Moral Theology, pg. 62)
Jesus laid out what a life for those that follow him look like in detail. One ought to be merciful, pure in heart, a peacemaker, thirst for righteousness, etcetera (Matt. 5:2-10). The Sermon does not merely include what right actions are, but includes sections on proper desires. Not only is it wrong to murder, but it is wrong to desire to murder or wish ill on someone (Matt. 5:22). Avoiding adultery is good, but one also should not covet after another man's woman in their heart (Matt. 5:28). In other words, merely avoiding immoral actions is not enough. One must also not desire vices. A believer is called to desire what is good.
The Sermon is not necessarily laying down universal moral commands. For example, Matthew 5:9 says, "Blessed are the peacemakers," but this doesn't imply absolute Pacifism, as it would contradict passages in the Old Testament where it explicitly says there is a time for war (Ecc. 3:8). The point of the Sermon is to teach what a virtuous life ought to look like. A follower of Christ ought to use reason to know what is proper to do in various circumstances. For example, in Matthew chapter 6, Jesus offers guidance on how one ought to pray by presenting the Lord's prayer (vss. 9-15). This is a model of how to pray. It's not a command for followers to always pray in this exact way.
In reality, the Sermon on the Mount mixes in exhortations, parables, hyperbole, declarations, commands, etc. It is best understood as displaying what a virtuous life ought to look like. It's not a law code. Building on this, it's important to understand a proper action is context sensitive. Under Virtue Ethics, one should not necessarily apply a universal maxim to every situation. Sometimes the proper action will depend on what is at stake, who is involved, what is the background, etc. Aristotle advocated against the idea there were fixed universal laws that dictate actions, and instead he argued the right action would depend on the circumstances one finds themselves in. Although the ethics of the NT may be a bit more strict, it still places an emphasis on being sensitive to the context of situations.
In 1st Corinthians chapter 8, Paul lays out instructions on how to deal with meat that has been sacrificed to Pagan idols. Instead of stating an absolute prohibition against meat sacrificed to idols, Paul instructed Christians to use reason to come to the proper ethical decision based on context. In other words, the right action is not determined only by a law. Instead, the Christian had to make the proper decision based on the context: if eating caused another to stumble, then you ought to abstain; if not, then there's no harm done. The value of the action depends on the context.
A Deontologist might reply that there's still a universal law given here: that one should always abstain if it's going to cause another to stumble. This objection can be addressed by asking: how are we to know if eating the meat will cause another believer to stumble? To answer such a question, one must be sensitive to the context, which in this case would be knowledge of the fellow believer and your relation to him. It is the context that determines the right action, not a universal law. Moreover, Paul states that the primary goal for the believer should be to love (1 Cor. 13). The first consideration is once again not the rightness of action, but having love for one another. From this, knowledge of the proper action will follow.
Paul often explains that living a proper life as a believer will take work and practice. He reminded Timothy to attend readings, practice what these things mean, and keep a close watch on himself (1 Tim. 4:13-14). Elsewhere, he directs that all believers must work on their faith (Phili. 2:12). Beyond this, he also noted that not all Christians would have the same gifts, and to accept that this was normal (1 Cor. 12). For some, certain things may be a hindrance, whereas for others it is acceptable (Rom. 14:2-4). What matters is that we love and build one another up (1 Thess. 5:11). Right actions flow from love and knowledge of virtue. Rules are not the primary motives that dictate our actions; rules are secondary in this regard.
An interesting case can be studied with regards to divorce in the Gospels. Jesus preaches against divorce (Mark 10:7-9) and it is often interpreted to mean "divorce is always wrong, regardless of circumstances." However, it should be noted the prohibition on divorce is not a universal law. The context can affect whether or not a divorce is permissible. Jesus says that one can divorce over sexual immorality. Paul also has a situation where divorce is permissible, namely if one spouse is an unbeliever and wishes to leave (1 Cor. 7:15). The implication one can derive is divorce is not ideal, but there are circumstances where it may be the proper action to take. Given the other features of Christian Virtue Ethics we already covered, the proper action to take will depend on the circumstances and what the virtuous agent thinks is the most loving thing to do. A universal prohibition on divorce is not a Christian ethic. Instead, one ought to discern the proper action from circumstances. However, it's clear in most cases divorce would not be the virtuous thing to do.
Building on this, it's important to note that within NT ethics, certain acts are always wrong. For example, idolatry and sexual immorality are always wrong (1 Cor. 10:14, Col. 3:15, 1 Pet. 4:13). There are no possible scenarios where it would be okay to rape, because such an act would never flow from a virtuous character. But this concept is not foreign to theories of Virtue Ethics. Aristotle noted that for some actions, no qualifications could make them virtuous. Actions such as rape or murder are always wrong, because they would never flow from a virtuous character. So it's not as if a Virtue Ethicist cannot claim that some actions are always wrong. They simply are qualified as being unable to flow from virtue, whereas actions like lying or waging war could be considered virtuous for the right reason.
Now, despite Christian Virtue Ethics having many similarities with Eudaimonism (Aristotelian ethics), there are also numerous differences beyond what we've already noted. One of the deficiencies of how Aristotle lays out his ethical theory is that it is essentially an all-boys club. Aristotle writes mainly to aristocratic men, excluding women and slaves. In his view, women were inferior to men and slaves lacked the necessary rational faculty. But the Christians rejected this mentality, as the teachings of Christ and the apostles were available to all (Matt. 28:19). Paul said, "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus" (Gal. 3:28). Peter wrote that all Christians were part of the priesthood of Christ (1 Pet. 2:5). Jesus had women followers (Luke 8:2-3), and they were entrusted with delivering revelation (Mark 15:40–16:8). What we find throughout the NT is a radical change to how women were viewed in the ancient world. Paul is also likely building on Aristotle's household structure and refining it. David deSilva says the household codes of the NT are "...following the pairs laid out as early as Aristotle to such a degree as to suggest that these were standard topics in ethical instruction" (Honor, Patronage, Kinship & Purity, pg. 231). But Paul adds an important preface: submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ (Eph. 5:20-21). DeSilva says:
"...husbands, we cannot then ignore the distinctively Christian addition they bring to this arrangement; husbands are to be subject to their wives as well." (Honor, Patronage, Kinship & Purity, pg. 233)
Thus Paul doesn't break down the traditional perspective on the structure of the family, but he does add the idea that we all must submit to each other in reverence, love, unity, and cooperation because all are equal before God. There is no explicit mention in the NT calling for the abolishment of slavery, but it should be noted that Paul taught that slaves should be seen as equals. In the letter to Philemon, Paul is clear that his slave is no longer "as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved" (vs. 16). Thus, within Christian ethics class distinctions were supposed to evaporate. All were brothers and sisters of one family.
An important aspect of Christian ethics is that it wasn't a standalone ethical theory. It's embedded in the larger Christian worldview. The ethical framework is dependent on Christian doctrines. For Aristotle, his ethical theory is for men who were raised well. This is why these specific men desire to be virtuous and perform right actions. As for why the believer does good and desires to be virtuous, it's not because one was raised well, but because they have been activated by the power of God's Spirit (John 3:6, 1 Cor. 12:13). For believers, the reason as to why we desire to be good and virtuous is because the Spirit of God has regenerated us. He loves us so we can love others (1 John 4:19). One is meant to look to the life of Christ and what he has done by dying on the cross, to know that we are loved and forgiven. This in turn is meant to activate a good life, having seen what we have gained and been forgiven of. He calls and activates us to do similar to those around us. This is a more open system for people of all groups and classes. One only has to call upon the name of the Lord to be included. It does not require a specific gender or to be raised a certain way.
The goal of Aristotelian ethics is to achieve 'eudaimonia.' However, within the Bible the goal is as the Westminster Shorter Catechism puts it: "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever." Since the central aspect of Biblical Eschatology is that humans will continue on forever in resurrected bodies, the aim of ethics is more than living a good life presently. Living a good life now is important, but it was only one aspect in the Christian worldview. Humans are meant to live beyond this life, so the aim is also about building virtuous souls that will continue on. The importance of this is more crucial than it may seem at first. Paul said that we must all appear before judgment, so that "every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad" (2 Cor. 15:10).
Being a virtuous person requires integrity, because one will still have to answer to God after death. If one can commit an evil act and no one finds out, then from the outside perspective he or she may still appear virtuous. Culturally speaking, the ancient world was very different from our own. All wrongdoings centered around public honor and shame. One did good to receive public honor, and one did not do what was bad to receive public shame. Right and wrong were connected to one's public honor and shame in the ancient Greco-Roman world. Thus good and evil were public ideas, not personal ideas. Ethical demands were grounded in the community in one's public appearance
The Biblical idea of an omniscient God who cared about our ethical status laid a foundation for integrity and personal guilt to emerge. Now one ought to do good because he is beholden to God, not just the community. Believers are to remain focused on God's approval and on the actions that lead them, regardless of the world's response. This lays down fertile ground for integrity to emerge. So the Biblical worldview has another important element built in that encourages ethical behavior, regardless of the honor it brings. One ought to do good because of a commitment to God not, because it might bring honor to one's name publicly.

Implications for Preterists

Paul believed that the Second Coming would happen in his generation, and prescribed certain things in the NT on the basis of that belief. An example of an exhortation that would no longer apppy to us today would be 1st Corinthians 7:24-29, where Paul argues that the times him and his fellow Christians were in called for celibacy, being that the Lord was fast approaching. It wasn't a sin if you did get married, of course; it was just harder to serve the Lord in this context if you had a family to worry about. Thus, Paul encouraged being single.
So, we need to be careful when reading the NT and determining what prohibitions or exhortations are still applicable to us today. Context is key.

1) Will this be your first dog? If not, what experience do you have owning/training dogs?
I have always been around dogs including growing up with dogs and taking an active role in training and care. Family dogs have included two mutt rescues, two Goldens, and currently two Havanese (which I take care of when they can't travel with my parents).
2) Do you have a preference for rescuing a dog vs. going through a reputable breeder?
I'm open to rescue but would likely need a puppy (as I need to be able to train and socialize early on to get what I'm after)
3) Describe your ideal dog.
A clingy couch potato that doesn't regularly need a lot of stimulation outside of hanging out with me.
4) What breeds or types of dogs are you interested in and why?
It never would have been on my quick list, but looking at my needs no breed comes up more than a Bullmastiff. My concerns are the drool (I'm OCD), and with the size with regard to lifespan, food costs, and physical control- I have a bad back, but that's going to be an issue with any size poorly trained dog and most activity will likely be off leash.
I loved our Goldens and either one would fit nicely into my needs (save the long hair). But I'm worried we got lucky with low energy Goldens (they often didn't get daily activity and yet no behavior or health issues)- so because of energy levels they aren't on my list right now.
I like many of the pitbull breeds, they are a great size, I like the idea of combating the image of the big scary pitbull- but like Goldens they aren't on my list because of worries of energy levels.
I'm not inherently opposed to labs.
I always adored Corgis but I don't think they are a match to my needs (barking, energy levels, small).
I don't want to overly worry about energy levels, obviously most dogs out there don't get the ideal activity levels and they do fine. But it also feels risky going with breeds known to be higher energy.
5) What sorts of things would you like to train your dog to do?
Basics- sit/stay/come/heel/bang
6) Do you want to compete with your dog in a sport (e.g. agility, obedience, rally) or use your dog for a form of work (e.g. hunting, herding, livestock guarding)? If so, how much experience do you have with this work/sport?
No
Care Commitments
7) How long do you want to devote to training, playing with, or otherwise interacting with your dog each day?
I cannot commit to daily walks or fetch, but I'm home all day (and not WFH) so I will be attentive to pooch's needs and he will always get a lot of attention if not activity. I'm prepared for the fact that no two dogs are alike, and things like activity/engagement levels will adjust over time based on my dogs individual needs and his behavior.
Ideally he would spend all day with me, including multiple visits a week to my parents- where he can take advantage of a fenced yard and socialize with their two Havanese (which he would begin right away).
8) How long can you exercise your dog each day, on average? What sorts of exercise are you planning to give your dog regularly and does that include using a dog park?
Not a believer in dog parks. I think I mostly answered this question in the previous.
9) How much regular brushing are you willing to do? Are you open to trimming hair, cleaning ears, or doing other grooming at home? If not, would you be willing to pay a professional to do it regularly?
Similar to exercise I will respond to his needs. I'm not commiting up front to weekly baths and daily tooth brushing, but if his behavior or the vet indicates an area to focus I will do so. On a regular basis I mostly anticipate brushing weeklyish, nails regularly, ears/teeth etc. as needed. It will be more difficult, but the same stuff I keep up with already on my cat.
Personal Preferences
10) What size dog are you looking for?
It doesn't really matter though I'm not usually into smaller dogs.
11) How much shedding, barking, and slobber can you handle?
Barking must be minimal due to apartment living. Shedding and slobber are what they are, like anyone I would prefer zero, some is ok, with the right dog I will learn to love his slobber right? Lol
12) How important is being able to let your dog off-leash in an unfenced area?
Fairly but I'm a believer that virtually any dog is capable of this with decent training.
Dog Personality and Behavior
13) Do you want a snuggly dog or one that prefers some personal space?
I already have a cat, he gives me plenty of personal space to fill with a pooch!
14) Would you prefer a dog that wants to do its own thing or one that’s more eager-to-please?
Eager to please
15) How would you prefer your dog to respond to someone knocking on the door or entering your yard? How would you prefer your dog to greet strangers or visitors?
A bark is fine, but it needs to stop quickly both by command or naturally. Window placement means he wouldn't actually have much visibility to the front yard and cannot see people at the door.
16) Are you willing to manage a dog that is aggressive to other dogs?
No, but he will be socialized with other dogs on a regular basis right out of the gate. This is an example of where I would be apprehensive about rescuing.
17) Are there any other behaviors you can’t deal with or want to avoid?
Not that come to mind
Lifestyle
18) How often and how long will the dog be left alone?
Just for quick errands or appointments, an hour or two here or there.
19) What are the dog-related preferences of other people in the house and what will be their involvement in caring for the dog?
No one else in the home.
20) Do you have other pets or are you planning on having other pets? What breed or type of animal are they?
One cat, he has some exposure to adjustments including dogs, and I'm prepared for a slow introduction process. I'm able to block off an entire room for him with his box and he has lots of vertical options (Jackson Galaxy wouldn't be disappointed).
21) Will the dog be interacting with children regularly?
No
22) Do you rent or plan to rent in the future? If applicable, what breed or weight restrictions are on your current lease?
No
23) What city or country do you live in and are you aware of any laws banning certain breeds?
None that I'm aware of but my vet (family friend) will let me know when I talk breeds with him.
24) What is the average temperature of a typical summer and winter day where you live?
Fairly temperate with the odd spike in heat or cold, nothing unusual.
Additional Information and Questions
25) Please provide any additional information you feel may be relevant.
I'm disabled and there is a potential for a service dog. I don't think this route is worth pursuing though as the main physical service that I would benefit from is with waking (one goal with a dog is bringing some schedule and routine to my days), which any dog is inherently going to do. Otherwise the dog would mostly be serving emotional support needs (eg: providing pressure and comfort during panic attacks will be appreciated, but no need for a dog that can like alert to oncoming attacks). With that limited scope it doesn't seem like it would be worth the time and money to pursue, especially with people in much greater need out there. But, I guess I'm curious if anyone thinks that's worth pursuing.
26) Feel free to ask any questions below.
If I'm not mistaken puppy season is well upon us, if I do have to lean more into rescuing and look for a puppy- other than the obvious behavioral signs what should I look for? Are there mixes to avoid, a certain cutoff age I should set for myself, etc?

My 8 year old son has had IBD-type symptoms for about 6 weeks and we've been investigating the cause. Late last week, we finally got his fecal calprotectin levels back and they were 1200 so likely IBD (I think Crohn's based on what I've read). We've been referred for a colonoscopy but it looks like it will be a fairly long wait.
Meanwhile, we've been super careful about what we feed him and about 3/4 of his calories are from Pediasure at this point. And thank god, it seems like it's starting to work - today was his second day back at school and he's starting to be himself again. Such a relief! But now I have a few questions that I'm hoping you all might know the answer to based on your experience:
1) If his colonoscopy is in another month from now, will they still be able to diagnose Crohn's vs colitis if he's still in remission? And the severity?
2) Why can't he start treatment now to help prevent another flare in the meantime? It seems like several treatments are common to both Crohn's and colitis?
3) Do I keep him on this super restrictive diet until he finally gets his colonoscopy and starts medication? Or can I slowly introduce a more varied diet (e.g., fruits and vegetables)?
I'm sorry if my questions are super naive - I've been researching all this like crazy but still feel so lost. And I'm kicking myself for not asking the pediatrician when I had her on the phone. Thanks for any information you can provide!
Edit: Thanks everyone for all of this helpful information!!!