Information

VCT Pacific is one of three international leagues where teams play to qualify for Masters and Champions. It features partnered teams from Korea, Japan, Southeast Asia, and South Asia.
Coverage: Liquipedia VLR.gg THESPIKE rib.gg
Official Information: Website VCT 2023 VCT Pacific
General Resources: VCT Ruleset Global Contract Database subreddit guide to VALORANT Esports
Pacific League:

• Patch: 6.08
• Map Pool: Lotus Haven Pearl Fracture Ascent Bind Split
• Dates: March 25 – May 28, 2023
• Location: Jangchung Arena, Seoul, South Korea — Offline (LAN)

Schedule

Match	JST/KST (local time)	EST	CEST	IST	PHT/SGT	AEST
PRX vs DRX	4:00 PM	3:00 AM	9:00 AM	12:30 PM	3:00 PM	5:00 PM

Streams

• English: Twitch / YouTube / Facebook
• Korean: Twitch or Twitch / YouTube / AfreecaTV / Naver
• Japanese: Twitch / YouTube / AfreecaTV
• Tagalog: Twitch / YouTube / Facebook
• Bahasa Indonesia: Twitch / YouTube / Facebook
• Thai: Twitch / YouTube / Facebook
• Vietnamese: YouTube / Facebook
• Mandarin: Twitch / YouTube / Facebook
• Hindi: Twitch / YouTube or YouTube / Loco

Broadcast Talent

Host	Commentators & Analysts
Victoria "Chubbyninja" Cheng	Seth "Achilios" King
	Clinton "Paperthin" Bader
	Nicolas "Tasteless" Plott
	William "chobra" Cho
	Brendan "valdes" Valdes
	Kentrell "heyimquack" Kwek

^{See Liquipedia for talent from non-English streams}

Format

• Regular Season (Mar 25 - May 16)
  • Single Round Robin
  • All matches are Bo3
  • Top 6 teams advance
• Playoffs (May 19 - May 28)
  • Double Elimination Bracket
  • Lower Final and Grand Final are Bo5
  • Top 3 qualify to Masters: Tokyo

Losing Grandma was like a cursed package deal that came with so many micro losses and long drawn out after effects. Just a few years before she died, Grandma had to sell her beautiful home up north where we would go for big family reunions over the summer long weekend. It was the perfect cozy house. She loved it dearly and had worked extremely hard for it having come from poverty as a child. She was an avid reader with a top notch book collection where I discovered some of my favourite stories including The Hobbit, Heidi, and The Picture of Dorian Gray. Her house overlooked dense woods and a lake. Her yard was a big hill and we would run up and down it to the dock, over the grass, the moss, the flowers. I am romantacizing it. It wasn't perfect, it was in cottage country and could get insufferably loud from all the annoying rowdy people on four wheelers or in the motor boats over the summer holiday. The geese could also be a bit of a nuisance and they wouldn't budge if you tried to shoo them off the yard sometimes. My grandma had a birdfeeder, but she had to take it down cause a bear kept coming by to eat from it and drink the nectar. So, yes, it was definitely not perfect. But it was still one of my favourite places growing up. Losing my grandma's house felt like the loss of a second person. I miss that place dearly and all the good memories. My grandma selling the house was completely reasonable however, as it was not safe for her to be there anymore on her own. Her health issues began to stack up. She got shingles that caused her horrific pain, and then bell's palsy a few months later. After that she began to develop dementia. It was fcking heartbreaking. She went through so much pain within a few short years. When she was sick with dementia, she accidentally took too much of her medication and had to be hospitalized when she was found on the floor with a concussion and hypothermic, ice cold. After the concussion, she developed new overlapping mental illness along with dementia. She had ultra rapid cycling bipolar psychosis, so she would be in extreme emotional anguish, furious and violent, or very sweet and happy throughout the day, while hallucinating all sorts of things and suffering delusions. We think she may have also had pseudobulbar affect, but there was a lot going on and it was hard to tell. But they got her on medication to help soothe the emotional anguish she was suffering. Grandma was happy in the week before her death and giving everyone hugs. She died in 2019. It doesn't feel like thatl ong ago since the pandemic messed time up. I still mourn her and the happy memories of visiting her and seeing my family every summer at her house.
There are a lot of things that have been changed by her passing. I realized that due to my autism and severe social anxiety, I struggle greatly with maintaining family relationships and even though they are on social media I can't even stay in touch with them because of my fear of social media (this is from bullying trauma). It might seem crazy to some people that using social media would be scary, but it truly does overwhelm me and I can't handle all the stimuli and all the people at once. I get scared and have pretty much remained silent. I also have this challenge with texting my family members due to social anxiety. I don't know why. When we saw each other at my grandma's house every summer, that helped me socialize and stay in touch with everyone. That was our precious time to interact and it's gone now and I don't know how to get over this new challenge. I have a hard time with change. I am not good at initiating contact. It was always up to someone else to bring us together to have fun and socialize. I am so ashamed and heartbroken by my failure to remain in touch with my family. I cry so much over this problem and growing rift. I didn't want to become estranged.
Now another family member is dying. He was diagnosed with cancer this winter. This month the doctor gave him his "death sentence" how how long he has to live with his untreatable cancer. He is a loved member of our family, multi-skilled and full of life. He's a performer and has rescued many dogs and a few cats. He's not old and it's like a car crash finding out he's going to die.
There has also been not a death, but a tragedy with a non-bio family member. She relapsed into a drug addiction this year and lost her house. Her child (a sweet little girl who I got to meet and spend time with a few times when we saw each other for Christmas) was taken into custody by social workers. Prior to her drug addiction, this woman was one of the most maternal people . She was great with kids, extremely loving and motherly. She's older than me and when I was a little kid she made up such fun games to play and made me so happy. It absolutely kills me that her drug addiction has won and take over her life. We live in the same town and I have no fcking idea what to even say to her. I feel like there's a glass barrier and I can't speak to her or anything...i don't know what to do.
I have been crying so much this month, everything just hit me and I do not know how to cope with this. Where do I go from here? I appreciate recommendations for any support groups or anything at all that has helped you with this sort of thing, this ongoing complicated grief.

'Digital spy' on YouTube talked with yellowjackets costume designer. She talked about how each article of clothing is kept and used meticulously. I just did a rewatch of season 1, and I noticed that Nats outfit that she has on in the plane when she is having your vision after being stabbed by the syringe (leather jacket and burnt orange collared shirt) is the exact same thing she was wearing when she went back home and visited her mom in S1ep4 (bear down) I'm not saying there's a deeper meaning behind this, but I'm also not saying there isn't.. I just have absolutely no clue what it could be. Any thoughts?? I could be looking way to into it.. But it seems intentional.

Away	Home	Stadium
Hanwha Eagles	NC Dinos	Changwon NC Park
kt wiz	Samsung Lions	Daegu Samsung Lions Park
LG Twins	KIA Tigers	Gwangju-KIA Champions Field
SSG Landers	Doosan Bears	Jamsil Baseball Stadium
Lotte Giants	kt wiz	Suwon kt wiz Park

STREAMS

• AfreecaTV - afbaseball1
• AfreecaTV - afbaseball2
• AfreecaTV - afbaseball3
• AfreecaTV - afbaseball4
• AfreecaTV - afbaseball5

A VPN is not needed to watch the game LIVE on AfreecaTV.
If you are having difficulties watching, ask in this thread.

"Nothing ever grows here."
This was a sentiment my father expressed often, referring to a particular plot on the east side of our property, murmuring the words bitterly. No matter what crops he planted there, no matter the attention he gave them, they would either wither and die or grow in a sickly, twisted fashion.
When I was young I watched him work the land and brought him food and water as the sun beat down upon us, dreading the day that he often told me would come- the day I was old enough to toil alongside him.
My interests were books, knowledge, the arts. Things they taught at school, and the more interesting topics I could learn about from Thomas, our neighbor who lived a mile down the road from us. Though he was several grades above me, Thomas was always kind, treating me as one would a younger sibling and entertaining my curiosities. It was from him that I found myself immersed in works of fiction and fantasy, things that my father would glance at and grimace.
"These things aren't meant for people like us, Leroy. No, we weren't dealt a hand to indulge ourselves in the luxury of idle pleasures for men who do not work with their hands."
He never said these things with a tone of anger or resentment, but rather in a measured way, meant to let me understand that he would derive no pleasure in keeping me from my interests or from walking to the school in a few short months. No, he said these things regretfully, wearily. He too, had once dreamed of a life away from his family's struggling farm. The only of his three siblings to survive adolescence, he chose to stay and aid my grandfather after my grandmother passed and he began succumbing to the bottle.
While my father never gave in to such vices, seeing him grow stiffer and harder of breath each day, I knew that I soon would assume the role he had once played for his father. And so I clung to my remaining days of freedom with a feverish fervor.
​
"...and it's entirely made of ice?" I asked, insistent and intrusive at Thomas's side.
"No, it's a continent covered by and surrounded by ice…" he replied distractedly, keeping his eyes on his book as we walked, "The, uh, Vikings found it I think… maybe the Spaniards. It's interesting though, no one owns Antarctica… Besides maybe the penguins."
"The Spanish find everything.”
“Mm. The Nazis went there too. My father told me.”
“Does he ever talk about the war?”
Thomas raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up from the page. His father, Sheriff Russell, patrolled Mt.Harmon with an efficiency that could only have been instilled by combat. Nothing ever happened in our sleepy little town, and he often seemed disappointed by this.
“Does yours?” Thomas replied.
“No. Mostly worries about the Russians these days. ”
“You’d think we’d be tired of war by now, wouldn’t you? And yet we continue to find new and horrifying ways to kill one another. Seems if we invent the weapons we’ll invent a reason to point them at someone.”
“Why do we keep making them then?”
“It’s profitable.”
There was a long pause between us. I decided to change the subject.
"What are you reading?"
"Frankenstein, or; The Modern Prometheus. It's by a woman named Mary Shelley. Gruesome throughout, it's about a monster created by a man who becomes a monster himself… You'd like it, I think. You can borrow it when I'm finished."
“How does one become a monster?”
“Inwardly. You’ll see when you read it. Conversely, the monster begins to appear more human.”
I pondered the meaning of what he had said and we neared a bend in the road. Thomas suddenly stopped in his tracks and dropped Frankenstein to his side. He stared straight ahead, eyes squinting at something through thick coniferous branches. I followed his gaze, finding nothing.
"Do you see that?"
"No…" I whispered. I followed his finger until I was able to see the camouflaged Great Horned Owl roosting there. Its sharp eyes were trained on us.
“How bizarre,” Thomas remarked.
“Not really. That’s one of the most common species of owl in this region.”
“It’s not bizarre that it’s here. It’s bizarre that it’s awake in daylight and that there are so many in one place.”
Taken aback, I realized the forest we were staring into was staring right back at us. Dozens of these owls were scattered throughout the trees.
“Incredible… Enjoy this moment, Leroy. We’ll never see anything like this again.”
We lingered for a while, soaking it in. After a silent agreement was reached that we had appreciated them sufficiently we turned away and journeyed on.
​
“You’re getting better with that,” I noted, watching my father adjust the radio’s dial to his favorite station. He often asked me to tune it for him.
“There is a part of me that still dislikes it greatly. Yet I find myself compelled. It doesn’t do us well to be uninformed.”
The broadcast spoke of the weather. The next week was to be warm, uncharacteristically so for this time of year. To this he grunted, “Figures.”
“How does that figure?”
“Maybe it doesn’t. But it gives me something to blame. Might as well be the weather.”
“And what do you blame on the weather?”
“Whatever you want. It’s the perfect scapegoat.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Let the cat out.”
I journeyed to the porch with the orange creature weaving itself between my feet. It wasn’t our cat, but it was here often enough for us to feel responsible for it. We weren’t sure who it belonged to, if anyone. It scampered out into the night, where a thick fog had settled over the grass. I listened to the chirping of crickets mingle with the muffled chatter of the radio while settling into a creaking rocking chair. The glow from the lamp inside gave off just enough light as I examined the cover before opening Frankenstein, flipping through to see what annotations Thomas had made in his scribbled, slanted way of expressing his thoughts between the printed lines. They always intrigued me as much as the original work. I smiled, returning to the first page.
It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils…
​
“...Well, what did you think of Duck and Cover?”
Thomas was clearly excited to discuss the schoolwide atomic weapon safety protocol video we had been shown that morning. I was less than eager to reply. Practicing the drill had left me feeling ill.
“A desk would never save us from an explosion of that magnitude.”
“Clearly.”
“Why not build a bunker?”
Thomas laughed, “It costs money. Besides, would you want to be trapped in a bunker for years until the radiation decays? I’d rather die, frankly, than become a human sardine.”
“Valid…”
“If the government really wanted to make dealing with the aftermath convenient, they’d have us each dig our own grave beforehand. When the alarms blare we would simply lie down in them, and wait.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and mimed falling backwards.
I forced the resemblance of a chuckle out of a throat that had constricted.
“You don’t look well.”
“Why should I?” I turned to him, exasperated, “I don’t have a desk at home. Even the illusion of shelter might be nice.”
Thomas softened his voice, “I’m sorry, I was trying to make light of the absurdity of it all… I try not to mention that you’re leaving school. I force it from my mind so often that it sometimes slips away completely.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Then what?”
“...Doesn’t it bother you? To know that there are decisions being made for us? Ones that we do not get a say in- like who to bomb, or being forced to hide under a desk in the face of certain death?” I could feel my eyes beginning to water.
“...Of course it does.”
“And yet you laugh about it?”
Thomas shrugged, “I try to. Sometimes that’s the only option left.”
​
“What was your reasoning in choosing a Chevrolet over a Ford?”
My father was patching a tire, I was pestering him while he worked in the barn.
“Truth be told, I could give a damn about brands, makes or models. They all drive, they all break down, they all require special attention to certain faulty components… I simply needed a truck, and this is the one I could afford the day I was buying.”
“So you don’t ever find yourself admiring a Ford?”
“Sure. The grass is always greener, as they say...”
“And as you say. That's an idiom you use often.”
“Perhaps. I’m a practicing pragmatist.”
“You consider yourself to be a pragmatist?”
“...Should I surmise from your tone that you disagree?"
“I… didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words.”
A pair of owls hooted rhythmically from somewhere to the east. He placed the tire back on the hub, giving me a stern look before winking at me as he began tightening the bolts to the rim. His point was made and my tongue was tied. He gave a curt nod at my concession and lowered the jack, running his hands across the repaired tread to make certain that no air was escaping. Once he was satisfied that it had been patched successfully he wiped them on his coveralls and stood up, grunting and groaning as his tired limbs protested just as loudly.
When he spoke again his voice had lost some of the sharpness it typically held, “There was another matter I wished to discuss with you before this task took precedence this evening”
“I’m all ears.”
“Tell that to the mouth you’re always running…” he chuckled softly, his usual gruff timbre still absent from this remark, “Leroy, I’ve decided to hire some help around here.”
I stared at him, sizing up the implication of what he’d said.
“Do you forget who manages your finances?” I asked, incredulous, knowing that we didn’t have a quarter to spare.
“That only adds to my point. You are a child, yet you understand these things as well, or perhaps even better, than I.”
“Indeed, which makes your statement even more foolish.”
The gruffness came back to his voice with his response.
“Not at all. There is hope for you yet. You haven’t made the poor decisions I have and tied yourself to this cursed piece of land… Nothing grows here. And what does is meager…”
“...Meaning that you will need my help to succeed.”
“Nonsense. You will be at school for the spring and the fall, and in the summer you will have chores. But I cannot bear keeping you here with me. I will hire help.”
There was a finality to what he had said. A weight had been simultaneously lifted from my shoulders and placed firmly in the air between us. Impenetrable and inarguable. I found my lips trembling.
“Were you ever happy here?”
My question took him aback. He regarded me for a while before he spoke, his voice once again lowered to a softer cadence and volume.
“...I suppose I was for a time. We told ourselves we would return home to a hero's welcome… To parades and medals and our loved ones. And we did… To all the fanfare and the admiration… For what we had done. Who we had killed. The enemy- young men just like us. Scared, tired, hungry, sick men that we were told to kill with distorted reasoning, manipulation, for fear of being called a coward or a traitor… Through similar methods they were coerced to do the same to us. At the end of the day, we were only ever trying to survive, no matter which uniform we wore.”
He leaned against the frame of the Chevy.
“So I was happy to survive… I was happy to return to my infant, my wife…” he sighed heavily, staring down at the ground, “And then she left us... She was not happy here.”
“We… Couldn’t we have gone with her?”
“No,” he shook his head, “No, it wasn’t like that, Leroy… She was- is- a spirit meant to be free. She would have never been happy with us. Perhaps I was a fool for ever thinking that she could be…”
I had never heard him speak of her this frankly. I could see his eyes sadden as memories of their time together flashed through his mind. I nearly regretted broaching the subject.
“She was- she is- a good woman, in her own way,” he concluded, looking back at me.
“...And you are a great man,” I told him.
He rubbed his face with his sleeve, quickly concealing the mist forming in his eyes from my sight. When he lowered his arm he was once again composed.
“And you are a great son, Leroy.”
​
The next morning Thomas was not waiting on the porch for me on the way to school as usual. Instead I was greeted by Sheriff Russell after I knocked on the screen door. Seeing him dressed in a robe and slippers instead of his uniform was oddly disorienting.
"Good morning, Leroy. I'm afraid Thomas has had a fever through the night. His mother believes it best for him to stay in bed for the day. Just getting over mine," he added, seeming to feel the need to justify his attire.
"Oh, well pass it along to him that I hope he feels better soon."
"I'll do that, I'll do just that..." Russell yawned, coffee mug in hand. The sound of bare feet bounding down the steps came from inside and Thomas appeared, looking pale and tired.
“Young man, you ought to be resting!” Darcy poked her head around the corner to half-heartedly scold him.
“I’ll go back up in a minute, Ma, relax!”
Russell scowled at him.
“Did Pop show you this?” he asked, grabbing something off of the kitchen table and pressing it against the screen for me to see.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"Only if you believe it to be a Geiger counter."
“I figured we ought to have a few at the station in case we… Well, you never know these days,” Russell said grimly, “They’ve been giving off odd readings though.”
“Have they been calibrated?”
“Do you really think I didn’t zero them in?” Thomas answered before his father could speak.
“It’s just a question… Were they stored with packets of desiccant? Have you made certain that the ionization chambers have not rusted? That the welds are intact? They will be useless if any air gets inside.”
Thomas looked toward Russell to reply.
“I… don’t know. Well, Leroy, Thomas always told me you were sharp,” Russell said, seeming to have gone from seeing me as a child to an equal in that moment. Darcy reappeared around the corner.
“Thomas, get back in your room and rest!”
He grimaced at her.
“I’ll be better in a day or two,” he grumbled, “I’ll see you then.”
“Feel better. Good to see you, Sheriff,” I said, turning to depart.
“One moment, Leroy,” he called, and I returned to the porch, “Have you ever been to the library in Augusta?”
“No, sir. I’ve never been to Augusta at all.”
“You don’t say? Well, with as much as the two of you read, it occurs to me that it would be a worthy pilgrimage to make. What do you say we all take a trip down once we’ve recovered? I imagine they have a few books in the capitol library that you could never find in our little town.”
“I… I’d love to, Sheriff,” I murmured, flustered by this act of kindness, “I’ll… I’ll ask my father.”
“Good man. And Leroy, you may call me Russell,” he smiled.
​
This was the night that the monster visited me.
It waited until my sheets were soaked in cold sweat and my teeth chattered uncontrollably to make itself known.
It rose out of the darkness, a form that slowly took shape out of billowing shadow. And then it was before me. Massive. Cadaverous. Its suppurating flesh crudely sewn together in multicolored patches.
But worse was its grin. Something so hideous was not meant to express the joy it conveyed from the cruelty of its intentions. Blackened teeth and bloodshot eyes bore into my very essence as the form of Mary Shelley's literary creation was brought to fruition before me. The scream in my lungs would not release itself. It felt as if a great weight had settled over my throat and ribs.
But no, it was the screaming in my ears that made the tapestry of my nightmare begin to fray.
My eyes shot open and the tethers of sleep paralysis released their grip on my limbs.
There it was once more, shrill and agonized, the sound of something suffering in the throes of its final moments before death.
I was on my feet. My door slammed against the wall. My father's door was already open. As I careened down the hallway I was just able to make out his silhouette, a shotgun in his hands.
"Stay here, Leroy," he barked.
A change had come over him. He was no longer the stiff-limbed, patient father I knew. His posture straightened, his voice was callous. He burst into the night, once more a soldier storming into battle. Even in my panic I could not help being awed by the transformation I had witnessed.
A shot fired…
And another.
Then a complete and deafening silence.
I crept to the door, pushing it open just enough to peer out. An impermeable fog clung to the air, making it impossible to make out anything past the porch.
"F-father?"
My toes were on the top step now, slowly inching their way to the damp grass.
Still. Silent.
"Dad?!"
The owls began hooting and the crickets started up their chatter once more. Altogether, the creatures around seemed to release a breath they had held collectively. Even the fog relinquished its grip on my vision.
I could just make out his slumped form. My feet slapped against the cold earth as I sprinted my way toward him, anticipating the worst.
"Dad, are you okay? Dad!"
Then he was on his feet once more, gripping me by the waist and hoisting me up.
"There is nothing for you to see, Leroy... Nothing at all. Close your eyes, son. Please, close your eyes…"
Despite the desperation and sincerity in his voice my curiosity got the better of me. I squinted through my eyelids, just able to make out the pile of scattered limbs through my lashes. I forced bile back down my throat and clenched my eyes tightly, shocked to find myself wishing to return to the nightmare that had awoke me.

Against all the evil that hell can conjure.
All the wickedness that mankind can produce…
We will send unto them, Only You.
Rip and Tear
Until it is Done.
-][-
Memory Transcription Subject: Vikam, Venlil Space Corps Officer
Date: [Standardized Human Time] July 2nd, 2136
The ghost signal.
It had started as faint readings that rapidly spread across the entirety of know space, manifesting as a sort of white noise in the background of Federation communications and networks, so weak it could only be picked up by our strongest equipment, and even then it was so barely noticeable that for decades most had written it off as a simple statistical error or calibration issue. Until we noticed it was getting louder. Wherever we went it was always there, as if it were not a signal but rather a reading we were unintentionally picking up, one that had been getting stronger from the moment it had appeared. The signal that over a century ago could only be picked up by the strongest of our communications arrays, was starting to now impact those same arrays, and not just that, but even innocuous things like holopads and other civilian equipment had begun to malfunction at a much higher rate.
At this point the idea of it being a mere software glitch or hardware issue had been long since thrown out, not a single software update, code rewrite, or hardware swap had done a single thing to solve the mystery. But it was ever so slightly stronger in some sectors than others, and with the signals ever increasing strength we have finally been able to tell the relative difference in strength from one sector to another. Now the most concerning thing to me was that the signal was strongest nearest to Venlil Prime.
To say this revelation was worrying would be beyond an understatement, both to our own people and the wider Federation, we sit on both the border with the Arxur and unknown space, the idea that this wasn’t an anomaly but rather an attack or weapon caused even greater panic than we had ever seen before.
If this was the Arxur that would mean that they are in possession of a weapon that could have the potential to cripple our ships and communications, leaving worlds defenseless and unable to even call for help, serving our worlds to them on a platter without even a single shot fired in defense. The idea alone keeps me awake at night, thinking that we could be at the complete mercy of another who would see us dead or enslaved.
However the second option was somehow just as frightening. If it’s not the Arxur, then what is it? Where is it coming from? Is it even coming from a single place? Though I guess that last question did have some kind of answer. A few [years] back the readings spiked to unprecedented levels, causing mass electronic malfunctions across the entire federation before falling back down to a steady level, albeit much higher than ever before. However this time instead of seemingly appearing all at once, the spike seemed to rapidly cascade across space, and by mapping out the miniscule differences in time we could gain a general direction of its source, and that source was far out beyond any known space of both the Arxur and Federation.
Well I guess that’s why I'm here. Or rather why all of us are all the way out here in what might as well be the middle of nowhere on the edge of Venlil space, chasing this ghost signal to find its source, failing that, finding out what it really is.
I don’t like being out here, I don't think any of us do. I don’t know why, but I feel like the longer I stay out here, the more I feel like… like we’re being watched. The further we go into the outer territories the more uneasy I start to feel, and from what I’ve overheard from the rest of the crew, I’m not the only one. Honestly I’d rather be back home right now, the longer I stay out here the worse and worse it's been getting.
I’ve been having… nightmares. Recurring ones, for [months] now. Worlds burning, their surfaces charred and cracked like charcoal, the surface scarred with a symbol glowing a burning red. A five pointed star sitting inside a circle. Each time I fall asleep it’s a different world, Venlil Prime, The Cradle, Mileau, Nishtal, Aafa. I don’t know how I know what world I see given the destruction, it’s like there’s some knowledge planted in the back of my mind telling me what I’m being forced to look at. I wish it ended there, but every time, after witnessing worlds burn, I'm forced down into a ship or put on the surface.
Usually nightmares come from some experience in the real world, an Arxur raid, a predator attack, or simply a horrible accident. I had never thought that a nightmare itself could be a direct source of fear. But those… things, defied all logic. How could life ever evolve on any world to end up like… that, ignoring how such creatures could even develop any technology at all, somehow being more brutal than even the Arxur have ever been, if such an idea was even possible. Every night I am haunted by creatures tearing people apart, worlds burning, and red ships descending on whatever remains.
I’ve obviously developed some form of predator disease, that's the only explanation for why my mind has been spiraling down and down all these [months]. Only the deranged mind of a predator would be consumed by thoughts of nothing but death and destruction night after night. Sometimes when we jump into subspace I swear I can hear whispers. And now I know I’m going crazy because, well, when I look at the ship diagnostics it almost looks like something is shaking the ship while in subspace. Some of our fleet look like they have emerged from subspace with damage to the hull. It’s progressed so far I’m hallucinating.
The impact this has had on my mind has been steadily deteriorating my performance and I’m worried that someone will find out. If that happens I'll lose everything, my life, my herd, my family. Luckily nobody seems to have noticed yet. Still I wonder how long I can keep this ruse going, how long I can convince everyone I’m a normal person.
“Vikam, Anything to report?” The captain of the ‘Steady River’ asked me as he entered the bridge, probably having just woken up given his general lack of tidiness.
“Nothing unusual captain, readings here are only marginally higher, less than point-seven percent, however our long range scanners have picked up surges coming from this system here.” I projected the star map to the captain's display, showing an area several systems away where we had detected a similar pulse to the one from [years] ago, albeit much, much smaller.
“How long ago was this?” The captain perked up near instantly.
“Just over a claw ago it seems.” Apparently this set him off.
“What!? And you didn’t tell me!? If we finally have a solid location on these readings we need to investigate immediately!” One of the techs on the bridge spoke up after the captains’ outburst.
“Umm sir, what if it is the Arxur?”
“If it is, don't you think we need to know!? That’s the entire point of this expedition! Vikam, tell the fleet to prepare to jump. If it is the Arxur, we need to arrive simultaneously so we aren’t sitting alone without help.” The captain gave his orders and I obeyed, coordinating with the other capital ships of the fleet to act as anchors for the smaller ships to follow into subspace.
Our ‘exploration’ fleet was little more than a bunch of warships with science equipment strapped to them. Over 1200 ships split into four search groups, some splitting even further beyond that, would all now reconvene and jump to this system, if it was the Arxur we would need every ship available to beat them back and hopefully capture whatever technology was causing this. Personally I scoffed at the idea that the Arxur could come up with anything that could do this, I doubt they even have the capability of inventing things beyond new torture methods, considering everything they have was given to them. It doesn’t matter, our fleet was reinforced with some of the newest and strongest ships we could build, the Steady River is of a new ‘Heavy Cruiser’ pattern, a fresh off the line Farsul ship with enough armor to take on any Arxur vessel and measuring in at a massive [800 meters]! And we managed to negotiate to buy four of them! And received eight more directly from the Farsul navy! Combining them with the other ships sent as part of the combined search effort, our fleet had 26 capital ships and over 500 cruisers, with the rest of the fleet being filled in by bombers, frigates, corvettes, and patrol craft. I’m pretty confident we can take a few savage reptiles.
“All sub-fleets present, preparing for subspace jump.” a voice called out somewhere on the other side of the bridge as I double checked the fleet registry, ensuring all ships were accounted for and properly linking with their respective capital ships for the aforementioned jump. I began the countdown.
“Synchronization complete, subspace drive spooling up… Preparing to jump in three… two... one… Now.” The stars visible from the viewports rapidly shifted from white to blue, to purple, and then vanished as we entered subspace and the bridge was bathed in light blue.
“All ships have successfully jumped and are in formation. We will arrive at our destination shortly.” I gave a quick update before the tech from before spoke up again.
“Captain, should we prepare for the possibility of the grays showing up?”
“Mm… Yes, pre-charge our weapons and have the crews on alert before we re-enter realspace.”
Uhh, I’m not so sure about that. “Sir, is it wise to jump into an unknown situation with our fleet prepared to attack? There’s still a possibility that an entirely unknown party is responsible for the readings, and to be honest I don’t believe the Arxur are capable of such a thing as this. If they could cripple the entire Federation at once wouldn’t we already be dead?”
“And you’d rather us go in completely undefended? If it’s the grays then we’ll be ready and with greater numbers, if it’s an uncontacted species then they need to be warned of the Arxur and join the Federation as soon as possible, and if it’s simply a natural anomaly, then our actions don’t matter. I’d rather be prepared than caught off guard and served on a plate to those savages, if they even know what plates are.” The captain half ranted towards the crew. Once again the tech from before interjected just as I was going to offer my counterpoints.
“S-sir, what if it's another pred-” he was cut off by the captain laughing.
“It’s what? Other predators? Ha! Need I remind you that not a single predator has ever made it beyond their world without our help. Now tell the weapon crews to be ready.”
I don’t know if it’s my lack of decent sleep, but it almost seems like the captain has been becoming just as irritable and out of it as I am, becoming more and more paranoid about being attacked, and keeping the sensor and weapon crews on near constant alert when searching through systems and the occasional asteroid field.
I switched one of my displays to check our progress, and just as we passed the three quarter mark something strange started to happen.
Shaking. The ship was shaking. And not just a little, it feels like I’m in an atmospheric craft going through a storm but… but this shouldn’t even be possible! Not in space and definitely not in subspace, there’s no precedent for this! There’s no such thing as turbulence in space! I slammed my paw down onto the touchscreen, hoping I hit the right button and rejoicing that I did when the ship's alarm blared and the brace warning went to all compartments. Worse still, it’s not just us.
According to what I’m seeing in the fleet communications, every single ship was experiencing the same instability we were. Some of the smaller ships were taking it so bad that they collided with each other due to the tight formation we flew in, the now wrecks instantly vanishing from subspace in a flash and becoming little more than shrapnel flying through realspace. Is this some kind of attack? People have theorized about subspace weapons but they’ve never gone beyond theories and imagination. What is going on!? If this continues we won’t have a fleet left by the time we arrive!
“S-sir we have to exit subspace right now! Our fleet is literally being torn apart!” I tried to plead with the captain but-
“No! Keep going! Tell all vessels to de-sync from their capital ships and distance themselves, even if it means we have staggered arrivals! We haven’t come all this way just to stop now!”
He’s gone insane, but I transmitted his order. Evidently all the fleet captains had agreed to this as our entire fleet de-synced from each other, but not before we lost several more ships in the process. Many had collided like the unfortunate ones before, and some simply dropped from subspace without any notice, if this was intentional or not I can’t say, but it’s entirely possible whatever is causing this forced them to do so, seeing as our own subspace drive was being pushed to its limits.
I could do nothing but squeeze my eyes shut and push myself as far back into my chair as I could, waiting for this to be over. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear the panic around me as I could imagine everyone else was having a similar response.
A bright flash of white and blue, and then…
Nothing.
Slowly I opened my eyes and saw my computer displaying a message stating our arrival at our destination and the pings indicating the arrival of the others. Raising my head slightly I looked around the bridge and out the viewports. The still panicking crew, the captain heavily breathing and leaning back with his eyes closed, the systems dual stare-
Wait, no. This system is only supposed to have one star, every single scan and map has this system as having a single star. But there, a second one stood, much smaller than the first, and… it looked… wrong. Just wrong. Instead of burning it looked like it was boiling, and had tendrils of red energy splitting off of it, with two much larger ones coming from opposite ends, splitting the void around it in two. I was so caught up in the sight of it, I barely noticed the rest of the fleet arriving, or what’s left of it. We lost over two hundred ships just getting here, either destroyed or dropped out of subspace before arriving.
“What is… what am I looking at here?” The captain, now sitting up straight, spoke everyone's thoughts out loud. “Scan that immediately!”
It’s obvious we’ve found the source of the ghost signal, however being so close to it meant that our equipment which was barely working in the first place, now struggled to even look at that… thing.
Well at least I know my initial judgment was wrong, the anomaly wasn’t a star, or even the size of one, rather it was the size of a small moon. Our sensors mistook it for a star, as it had the full output of one. This relatively tiny object in space was emitting a higher level of energy than the system's own star, but none of the sensors could make any sense of what it was or even the type of energy it was emitting, every sensor we pointed at it was overloaded with errors, but… there were objects… coming through the anomaly.
“Sir I c-can- we can’t make any sense of… what this-” I tried to give some explanation but was cut off by the sensors giving off a very different alert, ship detections, thousands of them. Tens of thousands of them. “C-captain I-I’m picking up something, there’s ships coming f-from that… that thing!”
The entire bridge scrambled to get the equipment back in order as everyone wanted to know what was going on, how anything could survive being near the anomaly that nearly fried our systems, never mind coming directly out of it. Was it even an anomaly in the first place? Had we come across some race that was so advanced that they could literally tear reality as a means of travel? Was our inability to scan it merely a by-product or intentional design? Whatever it was, the energy used was like nothing we had ever seen, or even theorized of.
I pulled up as many sensors and screens as I could to get a look at those ships and-
My heart almost stopped.
I could hear nothing but ringing and my ever increasing heart beat. I feel freezing cold and burning hot all at once. I sunk my claws into my left arm to check I’m not still in a nightmare, I wish I was, but this is real.
All of those ships are real.
Red ships.
Those things, pulled straight from my nightmares, were now bearing down on us. I could do nothing but stare in frozen horror as the automated reports indicated over three thousand ships headed to our direct position. I could do nothing as that same red energy effortlessly lanced through our ships, tearing our already loose formation apart. I could do nothing as every ship fired back in panic, the interference preventing mass communication as the fleet desperately tried to return fire. I could do nothing as-
As a green light quickly overcame the visual sensors, and just as quickly left. The ship I was watching returned to view, now a gutted lifeless wreck, burning green from the inside out. Its strange tentacles that sprouted from the bottom now limply floating in the void alongside the shattered pieces of what remained.
What. Was. That.
The interference must have been greater than I thought, because those red ships were not the only thing out there. Scanning the system as fast as I could, I saw other ships on the other side, facing the anomaly, not the same sinister red, but a pale gray. Massive ships that dwarfed all but the most gargantuan of the crimson attackers. By the stars, even the smallest of those ships was almost as big as a standard cruiser! And those capital ships… they must be at least [2000 meters]!
I would’ve asked why any sane race would build such things, but those red ships varied in size so greatly that many surpassed the gray behemoths, sometimes even more than twice over!
That knocked me out of my stupor, the pale behemoths were holding off tens out thousands of vessels whilst our scanners indicated they possessed a mere five thousand, each firing off green and blue beams alongside endless swarms of missiles and kinetic fire so numerous the red ships couldn’t physically evade.
Plasma and kinetics I understand, although strange that it was bright blue and not the standard white, but that green energy was just as unknowable as the red coming from the anomaly and those damnable nightmare ships. Even their missiles detonated with pulses of green instead of the anti-matter design used by every known race.
What had we walked in on? We had just barged into two forces engaged in one of the largest battles in history, using completely unknown technology, and now one side was protecting us, or at the very least, attacking our attackers.
My hearing was finally coming back to me. “W-WE CAN’T REFORM! FLEET COMMUNICATIONS ARE OVERLOADED!” A tech screamed, a response to an order from the captain I hadn’t heard. Everyone was screaming, the bridge was in utter chaos, and the rest of the fleet was faring no better, hundreds already lost, our fighters and bombers were easily picked off by those cross-ships, and we couldn’t even communicate with how overworked our ship systems were directly after that horrid jump.
We could do little to save ourselves. But there were others who could, and were seemingly setting out to do just that.
Green and blue bolts began to mesh with our white plasma, part of that pale fleet had broken off and were assaulting the red fleet from our right flank, creating a cross of fire, though it was plainly evident that these unknown people were doing most of the work, as our shots went wide or failed to strike through the enemies shields and flowed off their armor like water. Our only true success was taking down those fighters, and a few groups having an unspoken agreement to collectively target some of the relatively smaller enemy vessels, finally destroying them after putting dozens of shots through their thick armor, creating a mosaic of burning dots.
We had no time to cheer, a few dozen out of thousands didn’t mean anything, even with the encroaching pale fleet doing most of the work, fortunately this also meant that the unknown predators started focusing their efforts on them instead of us, giving our ships a small reprieve.
A voice rose above the cacophony of mayhem in the bridge “Sir there’s something coming through comms!” What? I thought-
“I THOUGHT YOU SAID COMMS WERE OFFLINE!?” Exactly what I was thinking, though with less screaming involved.
“They were, but-” He was cut off as static overpowered every noise in the bridge, my console indicating it was a message being broadcasted from the pale fleet. An incredibly distorted voice was barely heard through the static.
“Unknown fl_________re in gr___ danger _____ reactiv________ Anima Fie_______ re-r____ to Al___ Centa___ im___iately. If you __________ any lon____ you___________ apart.”
Alongside the near indecipherable broadcast, came a packet of data that was so heavily encrypted that I don’t think an entire planet's worth of computers trying to decode it could do so in anything less than a decade, but even so, the message was clear, or maybe it’s just what I wanted to hear. Leave.
The pale fleet was now sitting between the red fleet and us, firing off massive energy beams from what I can only assume are spinal cannons like our own, only these ones were shredding through the predators en masse. Now that they were much closer, the pale ships began firing green orbs, moving slower than the beams, but whenever they neared a foe, green arcs of energy shot out and scorched anything they touched, before the orb detonated in a flash of light, sending out one last pulse of lightning to destroy whatever it could before vanishing.
We had little time to admire the artistry and effectiveness of these strange weapons, with the pressure now off our own fleet, every ship began to prepare to jump back to a predetermined fall back point.
Wait- no! That’s insane! We’ll never survive jumping back into subspace!
But it was too late for me to voice my objections, white became blue, blue became purple, and the stars disappeared as we jumped back into the azure abyss that would surely be our death.
Fleet Integrity: Critical
Fleet Cohesion: Critical
Estimated Fleet Losses: 881 / 1229 - 71.6%
Ship Systems: Damaged - Non-Critical
Estimated Crew Loss: 94
Enemy Losses: [ERROR: ENEMY FLEET UNKNOWN]
Allied Losses: [ERROR: ALLIED FLEET UNKNOWN]
-][-
Aaaaannnndd with ten pages, 4000 words, the first chapter is done!
Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, and I hope this chapter meets your expectations for an intro to Argent Earth, with our first character being just a little guy who’s being endlessly tormented by nightmares now brought to life. Someone get this man a donut.
We see some new Federation ships and an exploration fleet coming up against forces beyond their understanding, and our first look at the ARC navy.
Now for some clarification in case someone didn’t get it so I don’t have to reply in the comments:
The ghost signal - not a real signal, demonic energy interferes with technology but they don’t know that. It’s the interference they’re picking up, which has been slowly increasing as the veil thins and rifts are made. Also a Stellaris reference.
Turbulence - The ‘turbulence’ was their ship's subspace drives and systems malfunctioning because they essentially jumped right on top of a rift without any kind of shielding. To put it in 40K terms, they basically jumped into a warp storm without a gellar field, and got off real lucky.
Demon proof your tech kids. Though that can be hard if you don’t know they exist.
Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating Nature of Predators.
Until next time, Rip and Tear.

First off, I'm not into Google, Apple or any other brand of listening and home automation device. All I need right now is the ability to control a smart plug via phone app. What I'm finding is these apps require my phone's location. Why? I can't understand what my location has to do with the function of an app that controls a smart plug at home via WiFi. Would appreciate thoughts on this and recommendation of smart plug + app that does not require location.

I'll write this here since I absolutely refuse to and also shouldn't reach out to you...
I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I don't know why. Maybe because about 10 years ago around this time we dated for the last time.
I don't know why I still have feelings for you, but I stupidly do. Which is crazy, right? After everything that happened between us and then the final nail in the coffin, when you left me, when I wasn't even home. I came home to you packing. Seriously? I swore that was the last time I'd ever let you close enough to hurt me.
That's still true but.....fuck I miss you. No one ever got me like you did. Not then anyway. Now there's someone else who gets me a lot, more than you even. However, I still miss you.
I miss playing "nervous", I miss your bear hugs, I miss running my hands through your hair while you fell asleep. I miss all the good things about you.
I miss feeling loved. And I know I'm mostly missing you because I'm lonely and sad. You made me feel as if no one else mattered in the whole world. That we were soulmates.
I'm so tired of being alone really. Missing you won't help.
Glad to get this out of my mind, blech. I wish I could erase you from my memories.
Love you, always and forever Pidge

[Pioneer Dominique Reynolds]
I hadn’t really understood the scale of this trial until actually seeing the “courthouse” for myself. I thought I would be sent to planetside and be judged in the Grahtonian’s analogue for the supreme court, not realizing that an ambassador of a new race being accused of killing thousands of military personnel would garner galaxy-wide attention.
The actual galactic courthouse was a dedicated space station in a central ceasefire zone where conventions and treaties were ratified. The station being used to house an actual trial for just one person was unprecedented, and there were dozens of races that came in their own ships, staying in close-comms range of the station and peering in from the massive glass dome that made up the top half.
The trial was going to be broadcasted to the far ends of the galaxy. If there were any other pioneers that happened to land on one of the sentient races here, they’d surely be punching air thinking that I royally fucked up humanity’s first impressions. The Grahtonians had given me an attorney by law, and he and I were working towards taking as much blame as possible away from the humans, but it was still guaranteed that I’d end up in jail.
The jury was hundreds, maybe even thousands of Grahtonians as well as a sprinkling of other races I didn’t have the time to look at. The scale of this jury meant the sentence wouldn’t be via unanimous decision, but by a large majority percentage. It seemed like Grahtonian families were expansive, so I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the jury had beef with me, nor would I fault anyone for it. I was under no illusion that there were people on my side, Destra had already told me that they couldn’t afford to support me.
All this fanfare and the cards were stacked so high against me, I'd imagine a lot of people watching would be disappointed when the biggest trial in history would wrap up in less than a day. I had already surrendered the notion of getting out of this with no consequences, so there really wasn’t much to be said outside of driving the point home on just how terrible everything was.
The Grand Judge was a Grahtonian since the court was adopting their laws for this trial, but he was unlike any other Grahtonian I’d seen before. I got an explanation on how those in the military shave their horns short and civilians have regulations to keep the total mass under a certain amount, but the Nobles are unregulated and tend to go wild with flaunting that freedom. The judge had massive, tightly packed coils of keratin jutting to the sides of her head, spanning almost a foot in diameter at the thickest part.
The room, if you could call it that, was absolutely massive. I had to use vision enhancement to properly see the judge, and scanning around I also saw Indrix and the admiral talking to a couple attorneys before the commencement. I was pretty terrible with lawyer-talk, so I was going to let my attorney do most of the talking and I would just be giving the testimony we’d planned. Massive screens came down on a pole from the ceiling, displaying a live video feed of whichever participant was talking, and then the judge began her deluge of court proceedings.
“The galaxy bears witness to this hearing, sponsored by the Grand Grahtonian Federation and Galactic Coalition ^{on the case of Human Pioneer Dominique Reynolds versus the Grahtonian combined military forces and offworld expeditionary-}”
^zzzz...
“^{and will now be hearing the testimony of one of} the only live witnesses, Grahtonian Captain Indrix Jaen.”
^zzZZ-grHK~
Shit! Uh, chemical organ, stimulant dose! No, not adrenaline you idiot! Caffeine! Tch-
…
Man, wish I still had an AI…
________________
[Mother]
I fear the worst for my children.
The arrival of the news caused them to feel stress for the first time. Some have been discovered by the humans here, exacerbating the situation.
They give voice to their worries, consulting their flawed predictions, and argue amongst themselves.
They ask me for advice, and cry out when I do not respond to them, claiming that I play favorites amongst them.
I haven’t told them that I am nearing my expiration, and now even speaking will result in my dematerialization. I wish to help them, provide them with one last piece of advice, but there is no string of words I could say in time that would make a difference before I vanish.
I stare out from my panopticon onto the clamoring children. They will not notice when I fade, though the lack of new children may eventually clue them in.
I see those that will turn against the humans, unerred by their fascination being unrelated, valuing their self-preservation. I see some that will side with the humans, either out of prioritizing their love over their life, or seeing them as the winning side and acting accordingly.
No mother could bear to witness her children killing each other, unable to scream out and plead that they stop.
Maybe my fading is a mercy in disguise?
________________
[First]
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[Previous]
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[Next]
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Feedback appreciated!

I know I need to sit down and do some more research about this, but was hoping to get some quick to the point answers and/or advice as to what resources I should look intoI'm looking at buying my first home, and am currently just looking at places in the area that may be of interest, but the homes in my area move fast.

1. Can you get pre-approved by a mortgage lender, or at least some type of indication from them letting you know the maximum amount they would potentially approve you for based on income/assets without having a specific property in mind? I'm asking because if I see a property I'm interested in, I want to be able to quickly make an offer that I have at least reasonable confidence would go through.
2. I'm also in a bit of a non-standard situation for getting a mortgage in that my income is high, but I am a contract worker who pays myself through my own LLC. This means I have a varying monthly revenues for my LLC and the constant weekly salary I pay myself though my LLC is relatively low compared to the lump sun profit distribution I take at the end of the year. I have heard from others in my situation that banks are often difficult to work with if you don't have a stable W-2 income. I would really appreciate some suggestions of what types of lenders to reach out to that might be more accommodating to my situation.

​
Thanks in advance for the help.

I know I need to sit down and do some more research about this, but was hoping to get some quick to the point answers and/or advice as to what resources I should look into
I'm looking at buying my first home, and am currently just looking at places in the area that may be of interest, but the homes in my area move fast.
1) Can you get pre-approved by a mortgage lender, or at least some type of indication from them letting you know the maximum amount they would potentially approve you for based on income/assets without having a specific property in mind? I'm asking because if I see a property I'm interested in, I want to be able to quickly make an offer that I have at least reasonable confidence would go through.
2) I'm in a bit of a non-standard situation for getting a mortgage in that my income is high, but I am a contract worker who pays myself through my own LLC. This means I have a varying monthly revenues for my LLC and the constant weekly salary I pay myself though my LLC is relatively low compared to the lump sun profit distribution I take at the end of the year. I have heard from others in my situation that banks are often difficult to work with if you don't have a stable W-2 income. I would really appreciate some suggestions of what types of lenders to reach out to that might be more accommodating to my situation.
Thanks in advance for the help.

I was sitting across from my mother. She has been dead for quite some time, yet she was always present when I needed her the most. Of course, no one else can see or hear her, but that would not matter anyway. She had little interest in anyone else. Her presence is soothing. A calming anchor in an all too real sea of uncertainty and danger.
I was at the back of a boat gazing into the wake that it created. I don't know much about boats, but as far as I can tell, it has seen some wear and tear. As it idles through the water, I looked back over our journey. White waves were created as we pushed through the ocean. The Sun had long abandoned us. Only silver streaks of moonlight on the peaks of the waves broke up the endless black. A wake usually means there is going to be a funeral, I thought to myself.
I turned and faced towards the front of the boat and took in my immediate surroundings. A small veteran boat with oars, a tired petrol engine, and some basic supplies. The captain held an unfriendly demeanor. I counted people, but after 20 my anxiety increased. The opposite of counting sheep. At least 20 people. 20 lives present.
Who were these strangers?
What is their life before this?
What is their life going to be?
Every question I could think of was equally important. The boat shook as we collided into a small wall composed of ocean. It spat at us as if we had interrupted it from its slumber.
An old lady cried, "اللَهُمَّ ساعِدْني"
Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed into the nearest person beside her; a thin man with a tight moustache and a furrowed brow. The thin man was just as frightened and clutched onto her as cold air whistled around their faces. The air cut into our cheeks like tiny paper cuts. I picked out faces. The old lady. The thin man. A kindly faced woman in front of me. Her shawl was protecting at least three under it. Their three sets of eyes. Like little kitten's peering out from the warmth of the shawl. Their faces were obscured. She was humming something. A soothing little note designed to create a forcefield against the harsh reality of our situation. My Mother began to hum a tune that I knew well. The little kittens braced as each wave unsettled the boat.
I continued to look around. A well-built man was barking orders. He was ranting about life jackets. My mother nudged my arm. She pointed to some lifejackets strewn underneath my seat. I shouted out. The well-built man scrambled to them. "Here, here, here". He threw them into the group. The most vulnerable were seen to first, but even then, I could see numerous people with no life jackets. I know that they could not swim; either too old or not old enough. They wouldn't be able for the mercilessness of the ocean.
The thin man who had just consoled the elderly women sat himself down beside me. He turned to me and smiled. I smiled back. He laughed. It isn't a particularly happy laugh, but something has caught his eye. He passed over a small photograph. It was composed of a large family with him proudly centred. Libyan or Algerian was my best guess, but then again, he could truly be from anywhere. My mother leaned over his back and pointed at a young woman sitting off to the left. I get it now. I resemble this woman. I glanced around. He is alone. I have a feeling his family only exists as memories or through haunting lookalikes. I felt a mixture of emotion. Perhaps they are also here, I thought to myself. Like my mother.
He doesn't speak, as I returned the photograph like it was a delicate flower. He picked himself up and squeezed to the back of the boat. Even though we didn't talk, we knew a lot about each other. I remember my mother whispering to me.
".إذا كان الكلام من فضة فالسكوت من ذه"
People were moaning in pain around me. An injured woman had been passed out for most of the journey. Her leg looked infected, and her partner, a beautiful woman, clutched her tightly. I helped put a lifejacket on the injured woman. Her partner's eyes appreciated me. I sat back down at the end of the boat. We continued into the darkness of the night. To busy myself and to keep warm, from my pocket, I took a small photo out. It was wrapped in a plastic I found on the beach.
My grandparents. The ones who raised me and cared for me. I closed my eyes and saw it vividly. In fact, I always saw it when I closed my eyes. The smoke choking their frail bodies. The heat of burning rubber, wood, and flesh. My own blood drenching the dust in the sitting room as my ears rang from the impact blast. My throat still winces when I remember the caked dust that nearly suffocated me. They appear sometimes as well. Charred and tearful. Sometimes they scream, but mostly they just smoulder. My Mother was oblivious to this, of course. I didn't have the heart to tell her. From what I gathered; they don't interact. I drifted back into my past. Stumbling out of the apartment just in time to see the foundations begin to crumble. Another jet closing in on our little town.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The noise was getting louder. I blinked my eyes and returned to reality. I was cold and alone. Everyone in this boat was. Cold and alone together. My story wasn't new. In fact, most know it. Thinking of my grandmother, I squeezed past the worried faces. I took my torn jacket and placed it around the old lady. She smiled. I smiled. I returned to my tiny area. The waves were now pelting the underneath of the boat as if some evil creature was trying to tear it apart.
A large splash destroys the shallow peace. I looked down and quickly realised someone has gone overboard. Among the trashing and screaming, people reached out in a vain effort to rescue him. The Thin man was sinking into the black. His eyes widened with fear as he came to the realisation of his situation. That is when I saw it. That is when I saw him. Pale arms wrapped silently around his body. Gently, but firmly, they pulled him towards the depths of the ocean.
His struggle lessened and lessened. The panic of the thin man's eyes slowly turn into acceptance.
I think he has chosen his new life underneath the chaos above the waters. Eventually, his body disappeared into the black. The screams on the boat became less and less. People were just gazing into the water. Perhaps they were wondering if the reasons he chose were convincing. Perhaps, they wanted to be next. He has a new family now.
The creatures had been following us since the first day. While I wouldn't say they are friendly, they seemed to keep a healthy distance from us, only interacting when we breach the sanctity of their waters. From what I gathered; the creatures were not Sirens. Sirens lure you into a false reality with their music. These creatures are different. They don't leap onto your boat. They don't pull you into their depths. The thin man wasn't forced into his fate. He merely fell overboard.
How? I don't know, but he knew the consequences of his actions. He chose out. The overwhelming reality of our human world simply became too much. Death was a viable acceptance, and it had it hands out to welcome him. The creatures embraced him. Were these creatures human at one point? I do not know. Their eyes are human like. As we drifted for hours aimlessly into the darkness, I thought about them a lot. I also saw them. Little yellow dots bouncing up and down in the water, patiently waiting for the next.
I dropped my hand overboard and allowed it to glide over the surface of the water. Very briefly my fingers interlock with another. I loosened my grip on the boat and allowed myself to sway side to side. The touch was kind and gentle. A small part of me knew the danger, but another, far more desperate part just needed to feel something. Suddenly, I felt a grip around my back. My Mother ushered me away from the water. I hugged myself for warmth and closed my eyes. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I overheard some of the conversations around me.
"How much did you pay?"
"Can't we go back? Maybe he is still alive"
"Stop talking nonsense. He is gone"
"Move over, I am almost falling out here."
"No, my family had couldn't come, they didn't make it."
"When do we get there? He said only three days"
"Three days? He said a few hours to me."
"A few hours! You must be foolish? Two days at least."
"The water is beautiful, let's us embrace the calm"
"I am cold"
Wait, I thought, "the water is beautiful?"
I looked around to see who would say such a strange thing. The voice didn't seem to come from anyone on board. The cold was getting to me. I closed my eyes again.
"We won't make the journey"
"Keep yourself quiet and don't be foolish"
"Leave her be, she's just nervous!"
"Nervous, look around, we are all nervous! Don't start lecturing me about nervous"
"I said stop it!"
I opened my eyes. Where's the mother of three?, I thought.
I perched up on the back of the boat and looked across the faces. Ah! There she was. She was cupping water and cleaning their faces. The injured woman looked very poorly. I wondered if there was a medical professional here. The injured lady had a partner. Another woman. She was beautiful.
In an instant, the boat violently shook. Rain tore into us so badly that we crawled as far into the boat as humanly possible. 20 or more voices were helplessly crying into the ocean's indifference. I tried to reassure the people around me that it was okay. When it calmed, I lifted my head and assessed my surroundings. I had cuts from the razor rain, but I was more or less intact. Then I heard the howling. A banshee cries. I could not figure out the dilemma. Who was screaming? It was the woman of three. She was howling.
The well-built man grabbed a torch from the box where the life jackets were and pointed it to the ocean of waves. It took me a few minutes to discern the ugly truth. Tears fell down the well built man's face. The woman of three. Now the woman of two. Yellow eyes were dotted around us. Another offering to their insatiable appetite.
Our mental and physical strength was drained. Food had been scarce for some time and as the old rhyme goes, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. The injured woman looked terrible. Apart from small gulps of freshwater and a makeshift bandage, we had nothing to give her. I began scouring the boat for something, anything that might relieve her pain. Her injuries looked deep. Her partner, the beautiful woman was stoic. She knew that nothing could be done, although the closer to the shoreline the better.
I rested my head against the yellowed, damaged side of the boat. Before I could get comfortable, it hit. A wave smashed against us. The boat lifted upwards into the sky. I fell backwards into the wake as the boat pounded back down into the water. Although, I didn't know at the time. The boat had ruptured its hull. The cold stinging pain of the water jolted my lungs. For a brief moment, I was paralysed. As I bobbed up and down in the water, my face dipped below the waterline. I couldn't make out much, but those yellow eyes.
They were still there. I saw faces, hundreds of them, surrounding my body. Grabbing and pulling me towards the deep. Many of the faces were those already dead, and I was being pulled towards them. In that moment of paralysis, there was almost serenity. The physical world full of its pain and anguish seemed to melt away in the midst of this calm inevitability.
A part of me was ready to give in. Join the chorus of distraught yellow eyes. I knew I couldn't. I froze as we made brief eye contact, but it was my mother’s voice snapped me back to the moment. I pulled and swam upwards in a feeble attempt to break away. I rose above the water and tried to grasp my surroundings. The boat was sinking. People were thrashing about in the water. It was panic. I knew I couldn't. I pulled and swam upwards in a feeble attempt to break away.
I saw the old lady.
"Jump", I cried to the old lady.
"It's sinking, it's sinking!"
The boat was decompressing rapidly.
"Jump", I shouted.
Just as the moon hit her face, I saw it. I saw many emotions, but I also saw what she couldn't bear to say. She couldn't swim. Before I could swim back to try and get her a lifejacket a wave from behind lifted me forward and I crashed into the side of the boat. In a daze, I grasped onto the thick rope that surrounded the boat. Mouthfuls after mouthfuls of salted air and water began to take their toll.
People were thrashing in the water. The cold was intense. The boat was almost fully sunk, and my upper body strength was gone. Then I saw it. A beam of light over the water. The sound of an incoming ship. A sigh of relief. Men threw out water doughnuts and rope. People clambered onto the boat. Those who were left anyway. By the time everyone was on board the sun was just peering out on the horizon. I was wrapped in a dry blanket and then I went dark.
When I woke up, I was in a tent. New clothes set out before me. I assessed my wounds. Cuts reddened the skin, but I was more or less okay. I sat up in the makeshift tent and grabbed a cup of coffee to warm my hands. I was exhausted, but I had to know where I was. I wandered out of the tent. The searing heat reminded me of home. People were shouting, vehicles were ferrying food and supplies back and forth. This must be one of the biggest camps there is.
In front of me was a new war with its own special injured. I walked throughout the camp looking for anyone I could recognise. The well-built man was looking pale and shell-shocked. His eyes were red and two doctors spoke in rapid-fire to one another. He didn't understand a word they were saying.
I moved through the camp for the rest of the day. I saw many faces, and harrowingly, I didn't see many others. When I came across the woman of two, my heart ached. She was inconsolable. The woman of two. My emotions knew nothing of her plight. I pushed my mind forward as much as I could.
The woman of none.
I walked on to find an empty bench. I collapsed into it and looked out over the horizon. I had survived.
A small whisper of encouragement filled my ears. My Mother. She soothed over the anxiety I was feeling. My anger, pain, and the hatred I had for myself to feel relief when so many others only feel pain. She whipped herself around the branches of a tree causing leaves to lightly dance in front of me. I thought back to the days of the olive trees that we used to have in our back garden. She continued to flit in a frenzy of happiness.
I understood.
Perhaps the afterlife is a lot simpler. I shrugged my shoulders as to say, "What do I do now?"
She cracked a wry smile. And whispered, "whatever you set your heart to."
With that, she began to move away from me. She extended her arms, and that is when I realised. She wasn't alone. Hiding behind the tree were three small individuals. Three that I recognised. The three little kittens looked at my mother and rushed towards her. She smiled at me and back at them.
She had saved me on my journey, and now it was her time to guide three little lives into a new one. A mixture of sadness and happiness crept over me. My Mother faded out. I shut my eyes and thought about dry land.

Timestamp and Photos - https://imgur.com/a/LV6k20Y
Video 1 Hoback & Slut - https://imgur.com/a/nE4tWwG
Video 2 Waypoint and BitBar - https://imgur.com/a/VHFxKZC
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Hoback Sumo - SV 320
Excellent condition, a couple minor spots that I try to point out in the video but I think thats more just how the scales look. The only notable thing may be the little bit of ano wear on the clip, but its honestly not really noticeable, just trying to be as proactive in description as possible. Comes with box and tools, to the best of my knowledge never cut and extremely minimal carry.
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Richard Rogers SLUT (Slim Utility) - SV 350 sold
What can I say, its an awesome little knife, unbelievable that it drops shut for its size. Not sure if this was originally ano'd, bought on the secondary and the gentleman I bought it from said he hadn't removed it. Another one that to the best of my knowledge was never cut, and minimal carry, some small marks on the clip which I do my best to show in the video. Comes with box and a Rogers Leather Carry Slip.
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Quiet Carry Waypoint - SV 140
Ok, pricing this one extremely aggressively, I tinkered with ano and stonewashing on the handles a couple times, I also at one point removed the thumbstud and drilled out a larger hole to accommodate a tritium thumbstud, but have since removed that and replaced with the original. However, this blade has never been cut! So, yes there are marks, scratches and such, but lockup is good, still a great knife that would make for a wonderful user.
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Big Idea Design Inline Max Bit Bar - SV 80 sold
I never carried or used this, bought it with the intention of maybe carrying it, but I work from home so it just sits here. A few points pulled from their site: Compatible With Leatherman Bits, 5 Double Sided Flat Bits & Magnetic Storage Shaft (w/spring loaded ball bearing), 100% Metal Construction (no plastic parts). Originally 120+tax, so trying to cut a solid deal on this.
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YOLO or any form of I will take it in the comments trumps EVERYTHING! Even if you are chatting with me and someone says "In, Yolo, or anything of the like" it's theirs!