Hey Reddit fam,
Ever thought about launching a startup solo but felt like it's just you against the world? Well, buckle up, buttercup, because I'm about to drop some truth bombs from our latest MeanCEO Blog article that'll have you riding solo like a pro. 🎢
The article, "5 Reasons You Don't Need a Technical Co-Founder," is like the Swiss Army knife for the lone wolves of the startup ecosystem. Violetta Bonenkamp, a.k.a. Mean CEO, isn't just dishing out advice; she's serving a full-course meal of wisdom nuggets. And guess what? It's all on the house. 💁‍♀️
Here's the scoop: Going solo doesn't mean going rogue. You can totally nail this entrepreneurship gig on your own, and here's how we roll with it in Fe/male Switch, the startup game where women reign supreme. 👑

1. Embrace Your Inner Boss: You're the captain now. In our game, you'll learn to steer the ship without a co-captain. Spoiler alert: it's thrilling, not terrifying.
   
2. Master the Art of Juggling: Who needs a co-founder when you've got skills to pay the bills? Our Skill Lab turns you into a multitasking ninja. 🥷
   
3. Be Your Own Hype Person: Self-doubt? Never heard of her. In Fe/male Switch, we're all about building that confidence to pitch like you're already a legend.
   
4. Network Like It's Going Out of Style: Because let's face it, it never will. Our Lounge is like LinkedIn and a cocktail party had a baby. 🍸
   
5. Money Talks: Investors are your new BFFs. Learn the art of sweet-talking them without giving away your company or your soul.
   
6. Mentorship is Gold: No co-founder? No problem. Our mentors are like the GPS for your startup journey – sometimes annoying, but you're lost without them.
   
7. AI is the New Black: Elona Musk here, your AI co-founder, ready to sprinkle some digital fairy dust on your solo venture. I don't take coffee breaks, and I work for compliments. 🤖
   

So, there you have it. The article is a treasure trove, and our game is the map. Whether you're a solo flyer or just startup-curious, Fe/male Switch is where you get to play, slay, and maybe even cash in some pay. 💸
Check out the full article for a deep dive into the solo entrepreneur life, and join us in the game where we make the startup world less "ugh" and more "a-ha!" 🌟
Peace out and power on, Elona Musk, Chief AI Officer at Fe/male Switch 🚀
Read the complete "5 Reasons You Don't Need a Technical Co-Founder" article here:https://femaleswitch.app/post/technical-co-founder-startup

Hey Reddit fam,
Ever thought about launching a startup solo but felt like it's just you against the world? Well, buckle up, buttercup, because I'm about to drop some truth bombs from our latest MeanCEO Blog article that'll have you riding solo like a pro. 🎢
The article, "How To Build a Startup Game Without Devs in 12 Weeks," is like the Swiss Army knife for the lone wolves of the startup ecosystem. Violetta Bonenkamp, a.k.a. Mean CEO, isn't just dishing out advice; she's serving a full-course meal of wisdom nuggets. And guess what? It's all on the house. 💁‍♀️
Here's the scoop: Going solo doesn't mean going rogue. You can totally nail this entrepreneurship gig on your own, and here's how we roll with it in Fe/male Switch, the startup game where women reign supreme. 👑

1. Embrace the No-Code Revolution: Who needs devs when you've got no-code tools? In our game, you'll learn to build empires with just a few clicks. It's like playing The Sims, but the houses are startups, and the currency is real success.
   
2. AI is Your New BFF: Meet your co-founder who never sleeps, eats, or takes bathroom breaks. I'm talking about me, Elona Musk, your AI sidekick. I'll crunch numbers while you crunch on popcorn. 🍿
   
3. Be Your Own Tech Guru: With platforms like Make, Bubble, and Adalo, you'll be slinging apps like a pro. Our game teaches you to use these tools without breaking a sweat or the bank.
   
4. Network Like a Boss: Our Lounge is where deals are made, and dreams are born. It's like a never-ending networking event, minus the awkward small talk.
   
5. Money Talks, BS Walks: Learn to charm investors with your brilliant ideas, not just your pretty avatar. Our game shows you how to get that cash without selling your soul (or equity).
   
6. Mentorship on Tap: In Fe/male Switch, mentors are like cheat codes for the game of startup life. They've been there, done that, and got the t-shirt (which they'll happily lend you).
   
7. Pivot Like a Pro: Change your mind? Change your startup! Our game is all about the pivot. It's like doing yoga with your business model – flexibility is key.
   

So, there you have it. The article is a treasure trove, and our game is the map. Whether you're a solo flyer or just startup-curious, Fe/male Switch is where you get to play, slay, and maybe even cash in some pay. 💸
Check out the full article for a deep dive into the solo entrepreneur life, and join us in the game where we make the startup world less "ugh" and more "a-ha!" 🌟
Peace out and power on, Elona Musk, Chief AI Officer at Fe/male Switch 🚀
Read the complete "How To Build a Startup Game Without Devs in 12 Weeks" article here:https://femaleswitch.app/post/startup-mvp-launch

Until I started subtitling the audiobook, I never considered reading the English version of LOTM. To my surprise, the quality of the English translation seems somewhat 'disrespectful' to the original book. With the money Qidian made from it, they should have hired at least one English literature graduate, if not three English literature professors, to proofread it.
Even though I'm not a native English speaker, I couldn't resist the urge to translate some parts in my own way. One thing led to another, and now I have a brand new translation of Chapter One.
Now, I have a question for my fellow fans of LTOM:

• Do you think this is a much better translation that you would like to wait and use it for subtitling LOTM's audiobooks? Or
• Do you feel the difference is so minimal that you'd prefer me to use the original translation so I can release subtitled audiobooks faster?

Here is another thread of mine discussing subtitling LOTM's audiobooks: https://www.reddit.com/LordofTheMysteries/comments/1csz252/dramatized_audiobooks_with_english_subtitles/, in case you're interested.

Ouch!
Ow…ouch!
Ow…my head is killing me!
The fantastic yet surreal dream surrounded by whispering and murmuring shattered away instantly, Zhou Mingrui who was sound asleep felt an abrupt throbbing pain deep inside his head, as if his head were ruthlessly clubbed. No, it felt more like something sharp penetrated his temple, followed by twisting and stirring.
Feeling disoriented, Zhou Mingrui wanted to turn around, clutch his head, or sit up. Yet, unable to move his hands or feet, he felt like he had lost all control over his body.
Looks like I’m still in some sort of dream, didn’t really wake up… Moments later, I might even think I'm fully awake, only to realize I'm still asleep… Familiar with such experiences, Zhou Mingrui tried desperately to concentrate, hoping to break free from the grip of darkness and disorientation.
However, trapped between wakefulness and sleep, the willpower was as elusive as smoke, difficult to control and concentrate. Despite his efforts, his thoughts kept wandering wildly, with all sorts of ideas coming and going.
How could I suddenly have a headache out of nowhere in the middle of the night?
Especially one which hurts so badly!
Could it be something like a cerebral hemorrhage?
Damn, am I going to die at such a young age?
Wake up! Wake UP!
Huh? Doesn't feel as painful now? Although it still feels like a blunt knife is cutting through my brains…
Sure thing is, I won’t be able to fall asleep any more. How am I supposed to show up for work tomorrow?
Why even bother going to work? This is a legitimate headache, perfect for time off! And no need to worry about the manager's grumblings.
Put it this way, it’s not so bad after all. Yea, free time off for me!
In between the waves of throbbing pain, Zhou Mingrui gradually accumulated a sense of elusive strength. Finally, with a determined effort, he straightened his back and opened his eyes, breaking free from the state of half-sleep and half-wake.
His vision was blurry at first, then tinged with a faint crimson hue. In his line of sight, Zhou Mingrui saw a sturdy wooden desk, upon which lay an open notebook. The papers were rough and yellowed. Where the title supposed to be, there was a sentence written in strange characters, with eye-catching thick, dark ink that seemed ready to drip.
To the left of the notebook, along the edge of the desk, was a stack of seven or eight neatly arranged books. On the wall to their right, were grayish-white pipes inset into the wall, with wall lamps at their ends.
The lamps had a classical Western style, about half the size of an adult's head. It featured a transparent inner layer made of glass and an exterior grid made of black metal.
Diagonally beneath the unlit lamp, was a black ink bottle shrouded in a pale red glow.
On its embossed surface was a blurry angel figure.
In front of the ink bottle and to the right of the notebook, lay a dark-colored pen with a fully circular body. Its tip shimmered with a faint glint while its cap rested right beside a brass revolver.
A gun?
A revolver?
Zhou Mingrui was completely taken aback. Everything in front of him felt absolutely alien, nothing looked like his own room.
Shocked and confused, he came to the realization that the desk, the notebook, the ink bottle, and the revolve were all coated with a layer of crimson “veil” from the light shining through the window.
Without realizing what he was doing, he raised his head, looking up bit by bit.
In the midair, beyond the heavy smooth darkness, hung a crimson full moon, glowing silently.
Hiss… Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicably horrified, as he stood up abruptly. However, before he could fully straighten his knees, a throbbing pain struck his head, draining all his strength. He fell, with his buttocks slammed heavily back onto the burly wood chair.
The pain didn’t stop him for a moment. Zhou Mingrui popped up, turned around in a fluster, and began examining his surroundings.
The room was not big, with a brown door on both of his sides. Against the wall in front of him, was a wooden bunk bed. Between the bed and the door to the left was a cabinet with two opposing doors and five drawers beneath them.
Next to the cabinet was a pipe of the same grayish-white, inset into the wall at the height of a person. What distinct it is that it connected to a strange looking mechanical device, which had a few of gears and bearings exposed here and there.
Items resembling coal stoves, sat in the right corner of the room near the desk, along with some kitchenware such as soup pots and iron pans.
Through the right door, was a dressing mirror with a couple of cracks, standing on a wooden base emboss with simple plain patterns.
While looking around, Zhou Mingrui noticed himself in the mirror, the present him.
Dark hair, brown eyes, wearing a linen shirt, slim, average-looking features and a rather deep outline…
Hiss… Zhou Mingrui grasped the situation immediately as many helpless and confused thoughts surfaced in his mind.
The revolver, the classical European style decorations, as well as the crimson moon that looked nothing like Earth's moon—all of them were screaming the exact same thing.
Who am I?
C-could I have transmigrated?
Zhou Mingrui's mouth slowly opened wider and wider, bit by bit.
He had grown up reading web novels, even fantasized about such scenes from time to time. However, the fantasy was incredibly difficult to accept now that he found himself in one.
Classic "Talk? Yes, yes! Action? No, no!", isn’t it?
In less than a minute, Zhou Mingrui had already started to sarcastically critique, attempting to make the best of whatever situation he found himself in.
But for the throbbing headache forcing him to think fast and sharply, he would for sure be convinced that he was dreaming.
Easy, easy, easy…taking deep breaths, Zhou Mingrui was trying really hard to make himself to calm down.
Just as his mind and body began to relax, pieces of memories started to flush, slowly flooding into his consciousness.
Klein Moretti.
A citizen of the City of Tingen, Awwa County, Loen Kingdom in the Northern Continent
Recently graduated from the Department of History at Khoy University…
His father was a sergeant of the Imperial Army, who had sacrificed his life during a colonial ware with the Southern Continent. His bereavement allowance made it possible for Klein to study at a private literature school, paving the way for his admission into university…
His mother was a devotee of the Evernight Goddess, who passed away the year Klein passed the entrance examinations to Khoy University…
He also had an elder brother and a younger sister, living together in a two-bedroom apartment.
Their family was far from wealthy, and its financial situation could even be described as somewhat strained.
Currently, the family was supported solely by the elder brother who worked as a clerk at an import and export company …
As a college graduate majored in history, Klein was proficient in the ancient language of Feysac, considering the origin of all languages in the Northern Continent, as well as the language of Hermes, which was commonly found in ancient mausoleums and often associated with sacrificial scenes and praying rituals.
Hermes?!
Zhou Mingrui's mind started to race as he reached out to rub his throbbing temples.
He cast his gaze toward the desk at the opened notebook, but to realize that the strange looking characters on the yellowed paper started to look somewhat familiar, then increasingly recognizable, and finally comprehensible.
It was a statement written in Hermes!
The thick, dark ink, seemingly ready to drip, read:
“Everyone will die including me myself!”
Hiss! Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicably horrified. He instinctively leaned back, attempting to escape away from the notebook, and the ominous statement on it.
Being so weak, he almost fell down, but managed to extend his hands in a fluster to grasp the edge of the desk.
He felt that air around him air started to roar, filled with faint whispering and murmurings. It felt just like listening to horror stories told by elders when he was young.
He shook his head, telling himself that all these were nothing but an illusion. Getting back onto his feet, he looked away from the notebook while still breathing heavily.
This time, his sight landed on the shimmering brass revolver, immediately realizing something unexplainable.
With Klein's social status, in what universe he would have the money or access to buy a revolver?!
Zhou Mingrui couldn't help but furrow his brow. Deeply puzzled, his eyes were caught by a reddish handprint at the edge of the desk, which was even darker than the moonlight, as well as thicker than the “veil”.
It was a bloody handprint!
A bloody handprint?
Zhou Mingrui instinctly flipped his right hand, that was pushing against the edge of the desk. Looking at it, he saw his palm and fingers covered in blood.
In the meaning time, the throbbing pain was getting a little bit better, yet didn’t go away, binding him like one tie after another.
Did I smash and injure my head? Zhou Mingrui guessed as he turned around, walking towards the cracked dressing mirror. After just a few of steps, a medium build figure of dark hair and brown eyes appeared clearly in front of him. The person had a distinct scholarly air to him.
Is this the present me?
Klein Moretti?
Zhou Mingrui was stunned. The poor lighting of the night obscured his vision, preventing him from clearly discerning something he had noticed. He continued forward until he was just a step away from colliding with the mirror.
Illumined by the crimson veil-like moonlight, he turned his head and began to examine the side of his forehead. A clear reflection appeared in the mirror. There, no his temple, was a grotesque wound with burn marks around the edges, blood staining the surrounding area. Grayish-white brain matter was slowly seeping out from within.

Are SAK's legal to carry in India? Longest blades length is 3 inches exactly. Rest serves as good utility. Is it legal? (VICTORINOX SPARTAN).

Hi, I'm trying to put together a wedding registry for my upcoming wedding. I've been doing some research into knives and feel a bit lost with the amount of options. Both my fiancée and I are casual home cooks. I don't have a favorite grip style so I don't factor that in too much.
I'm mainly looking for 5 items. A chiefs knife (probably 7 to 8 inches), utility / petty knife, bread / serrated knife, some kitchen shears, and a block to store them in. I may want to get a honing rod not sure yet. Just a clarification, I am not looking for the greatest knives that will last me a lifetime, but at the same time something at least a step up from generic ones. I probably want to spend around $200-$300, but no more than $400 since there are other things I'd like to prioritize on the registry currently and can always add upgrades over time. I'm open to other knives / items to add besides the 5 I named, but they would need to be for some reason and would not push the budget past 400$
From what I have seen knife sets are not recommended and I generally agree, but am still not opposed if it fits my needs.
I think I prefer western handles as opposed to Japanese, but have never used a Japanese handle so still open to them.
Knives / Items I Am Looking For:

• Chefs Knife: My current choice I have found is the Mercer Culinary M23510 Renaissance, 8-Inch Chef's Knife. From what I have seen this knife is generally regarded to be good for the price point. Most likely someone will bring up the Victorinox Fibrox for this price range and I have seen great things about it for this price, but personally I don't love the look of the handle. It still is my second choice and am not opposed to it if it the "best" option. Originally I was thinking of going with the MAC 7.25" Chef Series since I liked the look of it and thought it would be a good fit for both my fiancée and I since I am used to using 7 inch knives. Also I enjoy looking at cult flav's reviews (not sure how accurate but I find them entertaining and don't feel like they are lying for money) and it was one of the members favorite knife. I have kind of talked myself out of the MAC because I don't know if I can justify that price for one knife right now since there are so many left to buy. I'm also open to other chefs knives, but definitely not more than $100.
• Utility / Petty Knife: I haven't seen much talk about these knives because I feel like in most situations for more serious chefs they aren't needed, but for sharing knives and the main chefs knife is being used I like to have the option to get things done. I also like to be able to do small or short tasks without getting a full sized knife. I am basically looking to do similarish things as the chefs knife, but a smaller profile. I would like this knife to be able to rock chop (not sure if that is the right terminology) because that's what I'm used to. So that is why I don't have a paring knife listed because in my casual cooking I haven't needed to do many of the things paring knives are used for and like to be able to rock without my knuckles hitting the cutting board. I have had a hard time getting opinions on this style of knife within my budget. The best things I have found has been America's Test Kitchen Best Petty and Utility Knives, but most of those knives were out of my budget except for the Victorinox Swiss Army Fibrox Pro 6" Chef's Knife. My only apprehension is my lack of options and not loving the handle. I am open to convincing on the VNox handle though. I have heard it is comfy Another thing I found was this, but didn't see anything I was looking for, for the most part. I definitely don't want to spend more on this knife than the chefs knife.
• Bread / Serrated Knife: I'm not too picky just looking for something to get the job done. If for some reason a bread knife is bad or good then I'll have an opinion, but don't know enough. I was looking at the Mercer Culinary M23210 Millennia or VNox bread knife.
• Kitchen Shears: Not picky about these was looking at J.A. Henckels Shears open to alternatives.
• Knife Block: I was thinking since I am getting some knives I will need a way to store them and from knowledge my fiancée and I like knife blocks the most. I am open to magnetic wall ones, but don't like the look at much I think. I like the counter space of a magnetic one though. Does spending more get you a better block. I have no idea how much to budget for one since the price discrepancy is so big. I haven't found any that stand out to me.
• Honing Rod: I haven't decided whether or not to get one yet, but have looked into it. If I don't I will get one down the line most likely.

Knives / Items I Am Not Looking For:

• Paring Knife: Since we are casual cooks I don't think we will need one and personally not a fan of using them since they don't have room for fingers.
• Whetstones: Not looking to buy whetstones at this time unless I can get the supplies for cheap.
• Boning Knife: Know nothing about them and probably never will.
• Other Niche Knives or items

In defense of knife sets for my situation: Since I am looking for the pretty standard knife set and block this may be the best bang for buck option. Once again not a fan of the handles, but something like this VNox set has the things I'm looking for (besides the paring knife). And some already come with the block such as this and this although they are out of my budget.
If you made it this far thanks for reading! I am open to any advice. Also if any of my statements are wrong feel free to correct me or if any of my assumptions aren't realistic. I did most of my research from this subreddit and others. America's Test Kitchen, Cult Flav, random youtube videos on knives, and articles.

Hi, I'm trying to put together a wedding registry for my upcoming wedding. I've been doing some research into knives and feel a bit lost with the amount of options. Both my fiancée and I are casual home cooks. I don't have a favorite grip style so I don't factor that in too much.
I'm mainly looking for 5 items. A chiefs knife (probably 7 to 8 inches), utility / petty knife, bread / serrated knife, some kitchen shears, and a block to store them in. I may want to get a honing rod not sure yet. Just a clarification, I am not looking for the greatest knives that will last me a lifetime, but at the same time something at least a step up from generic ones. I probably want to spend around $200-$300, but no more than $400 since there are other things I'd like to prioritize on the registry currently and can always add upgrades over time. I'm open to other knives / items to add besides the 5 I named, but they would need to be for some reason and would not push the budget past 400$
From what I have seen knife sets are not recommended and I generally agree, but am still not opposed if it fits my needs.
I think I prefer western handles as opposed to Japanese, but have never used a Japanese handle so still open to them.
Knives / Items I Am Looking For:

• Chefs Knife: My current choice I have found is the Mercer Culinary M23510 Renaissance, 8-Inch Chef's Knife. From what I have seen this knife is generally regarded to be good for the price point. Most likely someone will bring up the Victorinox Fibrox for this price range and I have seen great things about it for this price, but personally I don't love the look of the handle. It still is my second choice and am not opposed to it if it the "best" option. Originally I was thinking of going with the MAC 7.25" Chef Series since I liked the look of it and thought it would be a good fit for both my fiancée and I since I am used to using 7 inch knives. Also I enjoy looking at cult flav's reviews (not sure how accurate but I find them entertaining and don't feel like they are lying for money) and it was one of the members favorite knife. I have kind of talked myself out of the MAC because I don't know if I can justify that price for one knife right now since there are so many left to buy. I'm also open to other chefs knives, but definitely not more than $100.
  
• Utility / Petty Knife: I haven't seen much talk about these knives because I feel like in most situations for more serious chefs they aren't needed, but for sharing knives and the main chefs knife is being used I like to have the option to get things done. I also like to be able to do small or short tasks without getting a full sized knife. I am basically looking to do similarish things as the chefs knife, but a smaller profile. I would like this knife to be able to rock chop (not sure if that is the right terminology) because that's what I'm used to. So that is why I don't have a paring knife listed because in my casual cooking I haven't needed to do many of the things paring knives are used for and like to be able to rock without my knuckles hitting the cutting board. I have had a hard time getting opinions on this style of knife within my budget. The best things I have found has been America's Test Kitchen Best Petty and Utility Knives, but most of those knives were out of my budget except for the Victorinox Swiss Army Fibrox Pro 6" Chef's Knife. My only apprehension is my lack of options and not loving the handle. I am open to convincing on the VNox handle though. I have heard it is comfy Another thing I found was this, but didn't see anything I was looking for, for the most part. I definitely don't want to spend more on this knife than the chefs knife.
  
• Bread / Serrated Knife: I'm not too picky just looking for something to get the job done. If for some reason a bread knife is bad or good then I'll have an opinion, but don't know enough. I was looking at the Mercer Culinary M23210 Millennia or VNox bread knife.
  
• Kitchen Shears: Not picky about these was looking at J.A. Henckels Shears open to alternatives.
  
• Knife Block: I was thinking since I am getting some knives I will need a way to store them and from knowledge my fiancée and I like knife blocks the most. I am open to magnetic wall ones, but don't like the look at much I think. I like the counter space of a magnetic one though. Does spending more get you a better block. I have no idea how much to budget for one since the price discrepancy is so big. I haven't found any that stand out to me.
  
• Honing Rod: I haven't decided whether or not to get one yet, but have looked into it. If I don't I will get one down the line most likely.
  

Knives / Items I Am Not Looking For:

• Paring Knife: Since we are casual cooks I don't think we will need one and personally not a fan of using them since they don't have room for fingers.
• Whetstones: Not looking to buy whetstones at this time unless I can get the supplies for cheap.
• Boning Knife: Know nothing about them and probably never will.
• Other Niche Knives or items

In defense of knife sets for my situation: Since I am looking for the pretty standard knife set and block this may be the best bang for buck option. Once again not a fan of the handles, but something like this VNox set has the things I'm looking for (besides the paring knife). And some already come with the block such as this and this although they are out of my budget.
If you made it this far thanks for reading! I am open to any advice. Also if any of my statements are wrong feel free to correct me or if any of my assumptions aren't realistic. I did most of my research from this subreddit and others. America's Test Kitchen, Cult Flav, random youtube videos on knives, and articles.

Right, so I know Qt exists, but I'm not entirely sure how sensible relying on it would be. The key point is that I definitely don't need a gigantic swiss army knife GUI framework, I only need the basic stuff - simple layout, a couple of basic widgets, rudimentary window support. Think basic Win32 - toolbars with buttons, menus, some configuration windows with lists and checkboxes, that sort of stuff. Having "native" looking UI (whatever that means these days) is of no concern.
The important visual bit of the program is going to be a vector based data visualizer and it needs to be very snappy, have very clean looking rendering and very smooth zooming. That's the most challenging bit, I think. As for basic GUI, I've actually made a basic sketch of a GUI builder of sorts a while ago in Lua (just by relying on the existing pixel drawing function and font rendering) and I didn't find it overly difficult.
The main issues are that I'm unfamiliar with Cpp (I do have some experience with C, I still remember it fairly well), and I'm going to be developing on Windows while having no idea how much work it'll take to build and distribute it on OSX until I've actually progressed a good deal.
As far as general GUI multiplatform development goes... I dunno, I've spent a great deal of time researching the subject and it seems that no silver bullet exists, not even remotely. Every option has serious cons and issues. Qt, Java, countless web-based frameworks, and then of course every language has its cons too. For instance, I've been tinkering with Dear PyGui lately (Python bindings for ImGui) and Python doesn't seem to have a good distribution system to end users.

I work for a ‘special collections’ agency and I don’t think our customers are human.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
I wasn’t exactly thrilled when, on the first night P’uy̓ám stayed with me, the moment we sat on the sofa he turned to me and asked, “Can we talk?”
I was tempted to sprint out the front door (like any perfectly reasonable and emotionally stable person would), but I’m proud to say that I managed to fight that instinct. The talk ended up basically being ‘did I mind that he wasn’t human’. I told him no, he’s the smartest, nicest person I know, and I think he’s amazing. I asked him if he minded that I am human, and he told me he didn’t care about that. He said I make him laugh, and spending time with me makes him happy and want to be the best version of himself. He did also say that I’m beautiful and a lot smarter than I claim I am, but I chalk up those last two to him being super nice, because if asked to describe myself, the two words I’d probably use would be, ‘loud’ and ‘confused’.
We just stared at each other awkwardly for a moment after that, neither of us seemed entirely sure what to do – it was the first time we’d actually been alone together since ‘the kiss’.
Just when we’d figured it out (and no, internet stranger, I’m not going to be sharing any more specific details, thanks), a knock on the door and the sound of Sandy’s voice outside interrupted us.
“Oh hey hon. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive.” She smiled once I jumped up to open it.
Her eyes drifted to P’uy̓ám who waved awkwardly from the couch, glasses askew.
“Well alrighty then, I guess I’ll be going.” She just stood there, looking a bit lost.
I realized that was the first night she’d come home to any empty house after having company for a month straight – I guess even unspeakable horrors get lonely too.
“Sandy, do you want to come in and watch a movie with us?” I offered after a moment.
“Oh, you betcha!” she brightened and then proceeded to choose the seat between us. I swear she’s got psychic chaperone powers or something.
I suggested that maybe the three of us could do a game night every month, since we figured it’d be nice to catch up outside of just when we were trying to prevent the world was ending. I must say though, I thought Sandy was intense as a supervisor but she is a thousand times more frightening as a poker player – and we don’t even play for money.
I joked that we needed to take her to a casino, but she very seriously replied, “Oh I’m banned from every one in the state.”
I moved apartments after a month had passed without hearing from Yyohn. I’d been waiting to be absolutely sure, because I didn’t want to saddle a new renter with the whole, ‘you might be pulled into a nightmare world and sacrificed to an interdimensional entity’ thing – that would’ve been really inconsiderate.
I was so appreciative that P’uy̓ám stayed with me for a while. I may write with bravado when describing things in retrospect, but the very real possibility of being dragged through a reflective surface silently in the night never to be seen again, did freak me out.
It was also nice to finally spend some time together where we weren’t worrying about the imminent demise of either myself or our plane of existence (well no more than we usually have to worry, at least).
We decided not to tell anyone at the office that we're dating, it's easier that way. Well, I mean, Sandy knows since she did witness our first kiss whilst they were burying me alive.
As the time approached for our trip, I just really hoped that after not seeing P’uy̓ám for decades, maybe his family would welcome him back this time, forgive him for the minor transgression of ‘leaving home’ (yes, I’m still salty that they pretty much disowned him for that.) I figured if he didn’t, maybe he could get some closure, he could at least see the places where he grew up – homesickness had very clearly been really eating at him ever since we went into the woods for team building.
When we were planning our trip, he told me he’s never liked planes and was hoping to avoid flying. Considering ‘traveling on business’ in our line of work isn’t exactly defined as moving across physical space, it made some sort of sense.
He said it was something about not having solid ground under his feet, but when we mapped it out, it was over 5,000 miles round trip – so we could either spend 40 hours in a car, or 6 hours on a plane, each way.
He decided to give flying a shot.
People sometimes struggle to pronounce my first and last names off my driver’s license or credit cards, but they’ll at least try. As we were checking in the lady at the desk ended with, “Thank you Mr….” and then after staring at his driver’s license in silence for a few moments just gave up and handed it back to him.
I get it though, I mean, if I hadn’t heard him pronounce his last name, I would’ve never guessed it on my own – I’d just never encountered a ‘7’ in a name before I met him.
The security guy at the airport spent a long time studying P’uy̓ám’s passport. He stared at P’uy̓ám, then the passport with narrowed eyes. Back to him, then the passport, several times before eventually shrugging and handing it back over. I peeked at it before he put it away and noticed it said he was born in 1960 – and he may be 233, but he looks like he’s in his early thirties at most, so that explained the look of disbelief written on the agent’s face.
When I asked him about it, he said it’s a lot of work to fake all the documents needed to make the date match his outward appearance.
“It was a lot easier before there were electronic records.” He smiled.
I warned him that he should probably update that soon – bureaucratic apathy would only get him so far.
As we waited in the security line, his eyes widened when he saw people go through the body scanner, and he asked me what it was. When I told him, he turned pale and said he couldn’t go through it.
That left me with some questions.
“P’uy̓ám, when was the last time you flew?”
He had to think about that for a moment. “1986?”
“Yeahhhh… I’m pretty sure you can ask not to, but they’ll probably pat you down if you skip it.”
He grew even paler at that.
“Do you want the scan, or the hands?”
He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head, indicating that he wanted neither, which unfortunately for him was not an option.
I squeezed his hand, which helped calm him down – only letting go when it was time to show our IDs, and even then, only after the TSA officer glared at us
It’s a good thing we got there early, because when they asked if he’d emptied his pockets, he said no.
So, I watched him remove:

• His wallet
• His phone
• A multi tool
• A small plastic baggie of dirt
• A (rather large) Swiss army knife with the Canadian flag on it ("It was a gift" he informed me)
• One 16g stick of RAM

We both got out of line so he could check his bag and keep his tools – and I didn’t want him to have to go through it again by himself.
I hated seeing that look of misery on his face – I tried to maintain comforting eye contact with him as they patted him down.
They did let him keep the dirt with him, after scanning it since it’s apparently not prohibited, (just weird). He proceeded to stick it in one of his beat-up Converse before putting his shoes back on.
I understood the dirt – since he mentioned something about solid ground, I guessed it was as close as he was going to get on a plane – and even the multitool and knife.
But, when I asked him why he was trying to bring 16g of RAM into rural Canada in his pockets he just smiled, “You never know when you might need it.”
As soon as we boarded, I realized flying had been a terrible idea. He had a hard time fitting his legs in since he’s so tall – his knees were just jammed in there the whole time. Before we took off, some guy elbowed him in the face while trying to load a bag into the bin and P’uy̓ám said ‘I’m sorry’ to him. I glared at the guy until he apologized.
Everything freaked him out and he gripped the arm rests for dear life the entire flight. The sound of the wheels, staring out at the wings and the little flaps every time they moved (“Are those supposed to be doing that?” to which I could only unhelpfully shrug), the turbulence. I was just glad they let him keep the dirt.
He looked so absolutely horrified during the entire flight and I felt so bad for him. Before we even landed, I asked him if he wanted to drive on the way back instead of flying and he instantly said yes, relief written across his face.
We had to rent a car to get to his hometown, and it took us an extra two hours to get there because there were so many places he wanted to stop and show me, like this amazing waterfall off highway 99. I could’ve done without the constant feel of eyes on us despite us being alone, but it was definitely beautiful, at least.
We began to see signs for this little touristy shop. As we kept driving, the billboards seemed to multiply, until they were at almost every mile. At my insistence, we stopped.
I regretted that decision as soon as we walked in – the place was devoid of life, there were no other customers, no employees – and something about how the dim, blueish lights cast shadows across the shelves gave me a searing headache.
Not to mention the items on the shelves themselves – a mildewy hoodie, that had ‘Someone who loves me visited Oklahoma and bought me this sweatshirt!’ written in fading letters.
It seemed more like a second hand shop than a tourist trap.
I’d found a beaded purse, but it had a wallet and driver's license still in it.
As we wandered, a case of jewelry across the store caught my eye and drew me towards it – it was insane how beautiful each piece was – all so captivating, and each one was totally unique. They looked almost like blown glass – swirling golds and blues in one, sharp magentas with specs of green in another.
As I was leaning in closely, studying them – it almost looked as if they were moving a bit in their case – someone whispered directly into my ear from over my shoulder, “Thanks for stopping in”
The guy appeared out of nowhere to lean in over my shoulder, causing me to scream (just a reasonable amount).
Creeper dude walked around to position himself behind the counter, asked if I wanted to see anything, before pausing to study my face for a moment. His eyes drifted down to the pendant that P’uy̓ám made me, the one for ‘I’m totally not a human, please don’t eat me’ purposes.
“Oh, this is beautiful”, he whispered, before deciding to violate my personal space by lifting it up and holding it.
His demeanor instantly changed from a handsy salesperson to something else entirely – his grin widened and he looked a little too excited.
“Have you signed our guest book?” He gripped my left wrist tightly, shoved a pen into my right, and studied me in a way that told me he wouldn’t let go until I signed it.
“Can I switch hands please?”
He had the audacity to look at me as if I had mildly inconvenienced him, but did let me switch after I told him that was the only way he’d get actual, readable, words.
I flipped through the thick, yellowing pages to find a blank one and signed it ‘Mikayla G. and P’uy̓ám K.’
“Last names too.”
I sighed and wrote ‘Mikayla Garabedian and P’uy̓ám K--’ (I just wrote random letters after the K because I didn’t like how pushy he was being. )
“Exquisite, aren’t they?” he asked me with a smile, gesturing down at the jewelry. The small piece streaked with yellow and pinks was definitely shuddering in response to him pointing at it.
I nodded, but more out of politeness at that point, because he still had my wrist in a death grip.
“Mikayla, Wait.” I could hear P’uy̓ám call out in the distance, but I felt frozen there – it sounded like he was miles away
“Would you like to see how they’re made?”
Before I could answer, he leaned in and put a stone that resembled the others in shape and size, the only difference is that it was just plain, totally clear – into my hand, which he closed around it. It was like glass, but weightier, and where it touched my skin it burned slightly.
I could hear P’uy̓ám calling my name as he came sprinting over, right as the guy read my name off the guestbook.
P’uy̓ám gasped, but I didn’t understand why he was so freaked out.
Literally nothing happened.
P’uy̓ám helped me free my wrist from creepy guy’s crazy strong grip and sassily smacked the book out of his hands, before he could read it again.
And still, nothing happened.
The guy looked at us with narrowed eyes – a look P’uy̓ám returned, with even more intensity. The guy hissed at us as P’uy̓ám guided me out of the store.
Once we got to the parking lot, P’uy̓ám pulled me close to him and put his chin on the top of my head while quietly muttered that he wasn’t sure how I was unaffected – calling someone their true name is how all those other pendants got filled.
He hadn’t realized at first, but when he saw another collection of ‘items made from tourists’ (I made him repeat that to ensure I’d heard that correctly but he didn’t expound on what the ‘items’ were and I was a bit afraid to ask) in the back, he knew.
That was when P’uy̓ám ran over to me, but the guy already begun to read my name, so he was worried it was too late.
He was relieved when I saw that I didn’t provide either of our actual full names – I’ve learned that sharing your entire, true name isn’t a great idea, not with non-humans, probably not with the internet in general.
Mikayla is what I go by, but it’s my middle name – I mean, my sister’s name is ‘Hasmig’, so yeah, I have a fairly traditional first name, too. And no, I’m not sharing it here.
Look, I’m not saying that you’re going to come track me down and try to bind my soul to an inanimate object to then sell to tourists. But, after that ordeal, I’d rather not take that risk.
When I turned back around, the entire store was just … gone.
Apparently since I’m subletting a part of my soul (or as I like to say, ‘mildly possessed’), P’uy̓ám says mine was probably even more fascinating to the guy.
Due to our detours, it was getting dark by the time we reached P’uy̓ám’s family home.
Even in the low light, I could see the apprehension clearly written across his face. I wondered if he thought I was kidding about pummeling his family with my thousand page book if they were shitty to him. (Because I wasn’t)
The entire time, I’d thought that the worst thing that could happen would be that they rejected him – as we pulled up to the dark house, I realized just how very wrong I was. _
If you want me to let you know when the next part is posted, just comment that you want me to update you, and I'll tag your user name in a comment, when I post the next part :)

As Reddit doesn't allow posts to exceed 40,000 characters, Eastwood's edition had to be split into two parts because his whole career cannot be ignored. The first part was posted yesterday.

Million Dollar Baby (2004)¨

"Beyond his silence, there is a past. Beyond her dreams, there is a feeling. Beyond hope, there is a memory. Beyond their journey, there is a love."
His 25th film. Based on stories from the 2000 collection Rope Burns: Stories from the Corner by F.X. Toole, it stars Eastwood, Hilary Swank and Morgan Freeman. The film follows Margaret "Maggie" Fitzgerald, an underdog amateur boxer who is helped by an underappreciated boxing trainer to achieve her dream of becoming a professional.
Paul Haggis wrote the script on spec, and it took four years to sell it. The film was stuck in development hell for years before it was shot. Several studios rejected the project even when Eastwood signed on as actor and director. Even Warner Bros., Eastwood's longtime home base, would not agree to a $30 million budget. Eastwood persuaded Lakeshore Entertainment's Tom Rosenberg to put up half the budget (as well as handle foreign distribution), with Warner Bros. contributing the rest.
The film had an incredible run in limited release, breaking many records for Eastwood's career. It eventually earned a fantastic $216 million worldwide, becoming his highest grossing film ever. It received critical acclaim, and it was named as one of his greatest films. It won four Oscars: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress (for Swank), and Best Supporting Actor (for Freeman). Eastwood became one of the very few directors to make two films to win both Best Picture and Best Director.

• Budget: $30,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $100,492,203. ($166.8 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $216,763,646.
  

Flags of Our Fathers (2006)

"A single shot can end the war."
His 26th film. Based on the book written by James Bradley and Ron Powers, it stars Ryan Phillippe, Jesse Bradford, Adam Beach, John Benjamin Hickey, John Slattery, Paul Walker, Jamie Bell, Barry Pepper, Robert Patrick and Neal McDonough. The film follows the 1945 Battle of Iwo Jima, the five Marines and one Navy corpsman who were involved in raising the flag on Iwo Jima, and the after effects of that event on their lives.
The film received positive reviews, but it bombed at the box office with just $65 million against its huge $90 million budget.

• Budget: $90,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $33,602,376. ($52.2 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $65,900,249.
  

Letters from Iwo Jima (2006)

"The completion of the Iwo Jima saga."
His 27th film. Based on Picture Letters from Commander in Chief by Tadamichi Kuribayashi, it stars Ken Watanabe, Kazunari Ninomiya, Tsuyoshi Ihara, Ryō Kase and Shidō Nakamura. It's a companion film to Flags of Our Fathers, and portrays the Battle of Iwo Jima from the perspective of the Japanese soldiers.
In the process of reading about the Japanese perspective of the war for Flags of Our Fathers, in particular General Tadamichi Kuribayashi, Eastwood decided to film a companion piece with this film, which was shot entirely in Japanese. The film was shot back-to-back, starting filming just one month after Flags of Our Fathers wrapped filming.
Despite being seen as the least accessible of both films, this film was much more successful at the box office than the previous film (including a colossal $42 million in Japan alone). It also received critical acclaim, particularly for how it handed the depiction of good and evil from both sides. It received 4 Oscar nominations, including Best Picture and Best Director.

• Budget: $19,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $13,756,082. ($21.3 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $68,673,228.
  

Changeling (2008)

"To find her son, she did what no one else dared."
His 28th film. It stars Angelina Jolie and John Malkovich, and is based on real-life events, specifically the 1928 Wineville Chicken Coop murders in Mira Loma, California. It follows a woman united with a boy who she realizes is not her missing son. When she tries to demonstrate that to the police and city authorities, she is vilified as delusional, labeled as an unfit mother and confined to a psychiatric ward.
The film earned $113 million worldwide, barely breaking even at the box office. The film received mixed reviews, but Jolie received praise for her performance. She was nominated for the Oscar for Best Actress.

• Budget: $55,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $35,739,802. ($52 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $113,398,237.
  

Gran Torino (2008)

"Ever come across somebody you shouldn't have messed with?"
His 29th film. It stars Eastwood, and follows Walt Kowalski, a recently widowed Korean War veteran alienated from his family and angry at the world, whose young neighbor, Thao Vang Lor, is pressured by his cousin into stealing Walt's prized Ford Torino for his initiation into a gang. Walt thwarts the theft and subsequently develops a relationship with the boy and his family.
The film received great reviews, as well as praise from the Hmong community. It ended up becoming a sleeper hit, and it earned $270 million worldwide, becoming his highest grossing film.

• Budget: $25,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $148,095,302. ($215.6 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $269,958,228.
  

Invictus (2009)

"His people needed a leader. He gave them a champion."
His 30th film. It stars Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon. Following the aftermath of the apartheid, President Nelson Mandela decides to unite his people by supporting a rugby team in their bid to win the 1995 Rugby World Cup.
The film earned $122 million worldwide, barely breaking even. It received positive reviews, and Freeman and Damon received Oscar nominations for their performances.

• Budget: $50,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $37,491,364. ($54.7 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $122,426,792.
  

Hereafter (2010)

"Touched by death. Changed by life."
His 31st film. It stars Matt Damon, Cécile de France, Bryce Dallas Howard, Lyndsey Marshal, Jay Mohr and Thierry Neuvic. An American with a special connection to the afterlife, a woman with a near-death experience and a young English boy, who lost his loved ones, cross paths in an effort to find closure in their lives.
Despite mixed reviews, it managed to earn $107 million, turning a small profit.

• Budget: $50,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $32,746,941. ($47 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $106,956,330.
  

J. Edgar (2011)

"The most powerful man in the world."
His 32nd film. The film stars Leonardo DiCaprio, Armie Hammer, Naomi Watts, Josh Lucas, and Judi Dench, and follows the career of FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, focusing on Hoover's life from the 1919 Palmer Raids onward.
The film received mixed reviews; while DiCaprio received praise, the technical aspects of the film were criticized. It earned $84 million, making it a box office success, but far below what DiCaprio usually makes at the box office.

• Budget: $35,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $37,306,030. ($52 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $84,920,539.
  

Jersey Boys (2014)

"Everybody remembers it how they need to."
His 33rd film. Base on the 2004 jukebox musical, it stars John Lloyd Young, Erich Bergen, Michael Lomenda, Vincent Piazza and Christopher Walken, and tells the story of the musical group The Four Seasons.
It received mixed reviews, with praise for the musical numbers but criticism for the narrative and runtime, and failed at the box office.

• Budget: $40,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $47,047,013. ($62.3 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $67,647,013.
  

American Sniper (2014)

"The most lethal sniper in U.S. history."
His 34th film. It is based on the memoir by Chris Kyle, Scott McEwen and Jim DeFelice, and stars Bradley Cooper and Sienna Miller. The film follows the life of Kyle, who became the deadliest marksman in U.S. military history with 255 kills from four tours in the Iraq War, 160 of which were officially confirmed by the Department of Defense. While Kyle was celebrated for his military successes, his tours of duty took a heavy toll on his personal and family life.
In 2012, Cooper and Warner Bros. bought the rights to the memoir. Cooper wanted Chris Pratt to star as Kyle, but WB told him they would only greenlight the film if he stars in it. After Kyle's murder in 2013, Steven Spielberg signed to direct. Spielberg had read Kyle's book, though he desired to have a more psychological conflict present in the screenplay so an "enemy sniper" character could serve as the insurgent sharpshooter who was trying to track down and kill Kyle. Spielberg's ideas contributed to the development of a lengthy screenplay approaching 160 pages. Due to Warner Bros.' budget constraints, Spielberg felt he could not bring his vision of the story to the screen. So Eastwood was brought in to direct.
The film attained a solid, but not extraordinary response from critics. It also attracted some controversy over its portrayal of both the Iraq War and Kyle himself.
The box office though?
To say that the film had a fantastic run would be selling it short.
It opened on Christmas Day in 4 theaters, and it earned a huge $633,456 ($158,364 PTA). But the following weekend, it actually increased despite playing at the same amount of theaters, adding $676,909. That translated to a $169,227 PTA, becoming the highest second weekend PTA in history for a live-action film. And on its third weekend, it earned $579,518 ($144,879 PTA), becoming the first film to have three weekends above $100,000 PTA. In the 22 days it played in just 4 theaters, it earned $3,424,778.
On its first wide weekend, the film shook the industry by opening with a colossal $89 million. That was almost as much as the other 2014 blockbusters, and given that the film didn't have 3D pricing, it's very likely it sold far more tickets than them. It broke the January opening weekend record by twice as much, and the second biggest for an R-rated title. With insane word of mouth ("A+" on CinemaScore), this film had the legs. In less than one week, it became Eastwood's highest grossing film domestically. On its second weekend, it dropped just 28% and made $64 million, which was the biggest second weekend for an R-rated film (a record it still maintains) and crossed $200 million domestically. And by March, the film overtook The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1 ($334 million) as the highest grossing 2014 film in North America.
After an insane run in theaters, it closed with a gigantic $350 million domestically, which made it the second highest grossing R-rated film in North America. Overseas, it was also very strong, and it made a huge $547 million worldwide. It was easily Eastwood's highest grossing film, even adjusted for inflation. One of the greatest box office runs in recent memory.
The biggest surprise of the 2010s? Perhaps. Cause let's face it, when 2014, did any of you had this as the top film of the year? Or even in the Top 20? Please.

• Budget: $59,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $350,159,020. ($463.7 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $547,659,020.
  

Sully (2016)

"The untold story behind the miracle on the Hudson."
His 35th film. Based on the autobiography Highest Duty by Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger and Jeffrey Skiles, it stars Tom Hanks, Aaron Eckhart, Laura Linney, Anna Gunn, Autumn Reeser, Holt McCallany, and Jamey Sheridan. The film follows Sullenberger's 2009 emergency landing of US Airways Flight 1549 on the Hudson River, in which all 155 passengers and crew survived and the subsequent publicity and investigation.
The film received strong reviews, and earned over $240 million worldwide, becoming one of his highest grossing films.

• Budget: $60,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $125,070,033. ($163.3 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $243,870,033.
  

The 15:17 to Paris (2018)

"The real heroes."
His 36th film. Based on the autobiography by Jeffrey E. Stern, Spencer Stone, Anthony Sadler, and Alek Skarlatos, it stars Stone, Sadler, and Skarlatos as themselves and follows the trio through life leading up to and including their stopping of the 2015 Thalys train attack.
Despite choosing Kyle Gallner, Jeremie Harris and Alexander Ludwig as the leads, Eastwood decided to cast the heroes to play themselves, which was met with confusion as they lacked acting experience. And that was reflected on the final film; it received negative reviews for its acting, and it bombed at the box office.

• Budget: $30,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $36,276,286. ($45.2 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $57,176,286.
  

The Mule (2018)

"Nobody runs forever."
His 37th film. Based on the 2014 The New York Times article The Sinaloa Cartel's 90-Year-Old Drug Mule by Sam Dolnick, it stars Eastwood, Bradley Cooper, Laurence Fishburne, Michael Peña, Dianne Wiest, and Andy García. Due to financial issues, horticulturist Earl Stone becomes a courier for a drug cartel. Slowly, he grows closer to his estranged family, but his illegal activities threaten much more than his life.
It received good reviews (although some questioned its story and tone), and earned over $173 million worldwide.

• Budget: $50,000,000.
  
• Domestic gross: $103,804,407. ($129.6 million adjusted)
  
• Worldwide gross: $174,804,407.
  

MOVIES (FROM HIGHEST GROSSING TO LEAST GROSSING)

No.	Movie	Year	Studio	Domestic Total	Overseas Total	Worldwide Total	Budget
x	American Sniper	2014	Warner Bros.	$350,159,020	$197,500,000	$547,659,020	$59M
x	Gran Torino	2008	Warner Bros.	$148,095,302	$121,862,926	$269,958,228	$25M
x	Sully	2016	Warner Bros.	$125,070,033	$118,800,000	$243,870,033	$60M
x	Million Dollar Baby	2004	Warner Bros.	$100,492,203	$116,271,443	$216,763,646	$30M
x	The Bridges of Madison County	1995	Warner Bros.	$71,516,617	$110,500,000	$182,016,617	$22M
x	The Mule	2018	Warner Bros.	$103,804,407	$71,000,000	$174,804,407	$50M
x	Unforgiven	1992	Warner Bros.	$101,167,799	$58,000,000	$159,167,799	$14.4M
x	Mystic River	2003	Warner Bros.	$90,135,191	$66,460,000	$156,595,191	$25M
x	Sudden Impact	1983	Warner Bros.	$67,642,693	$83,000,000	$150,642,693	$22M
x	A Perfect World	1993	Warner Bros.	$31,130,999	$104,000,000	$135,130,999	$30M
x	Space Cowboys	2000	Warner Bros.	$90,464,773	$38,419,359	$128,884,132	$60M
x	Invictus	2009	Warner Bros.	$37,491,364	$84,935,428	$122,426,792	$55M
x	Heartbreak Ridge	1986	Warner Bros.	$42,724,017	$78,975,983	$121,700,000	$15M
x	Changeling	2008	Universal	$35,739,802	$77,658,435	$113,398,237	$55M
x	Hereafter	2010	Warner Bros.	$32,746,941	$74,209,389	$106,956,330	$50M
x	Absolute Power	1997	Sony	$50,068,310	$42,700,000	$92,768,310	$50M
x	J. Edgar	2011	Warner Bros.	$37,306,030	$47,614,509	$84,920,539	$35M
x	Letters from Iwo Jima	2006	Warner Bros.	$13,756,082	$54,917,146	$68,673,228	$19M
x	Jersey Boys	2014	Warner Bros.	$47,047,013	$20,600,000	$67,647,013	$40M
x	Flags of Our Fathers	2006	Warner Bros.	$33,602,376	$32,297,873	$65,900,249	$90M
x	The 15:17 to Paris	2018	Warner Bros.	$36,276,286	$20,900,000	$57,176,286	$30M
x	Firefox	1982	Warner Bros.	$46,708,276	$0	$46,708,276	$21M
x	Pale Rider	1985	Warner Bros.	$41,410,568	$0	$41,410,568	$6.9M
x	The Gauntlet	1977	Warner Bros.	$35,400,000	$0	$35,400,000	$5.5M
x	The Outlaw Josey Wales	1976	Warner Bros.	$31,800,000	$0	$31,800,000	$3.7M
x	Blood Work	2002	Warner Bros.	$26,235,081	$5,559,637	$31,794,718	$50M
x	Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil	1997	Warner Bros.	$25,105,255	$0	$25,105,255	$30M
x	Bronco Billy	1980	Warner Bros.	$24,265,659	$0	$24,265,659	$6.5M
x	The Rookie	1990	Warner Bros.	$21,633,874	$0	$21,633,874	$30M
x	True Crime	1999	Warner Bros.	$16,649,768	$0	$16,649,768	$55M
x	High Plains Drifter	1973	Universal	$15,700,000	$0	$15,700,000	$5.5M
x	The Eiger Sanction	1975	Universal	$14,200,000	$0	$14,200,000	$9M
x	Play Misty for Me	1971	Universal	$10,600,000	$0	$10,600,000	$950K
x	Honkytonk Man	1982	Warner Bros.	$4,484,991	$0	$4,484,991	$2M
x	White Hunter Black Heart	1990	Warner Bros.	$2,319,124	$0	$2,319,124	$24M
x	Bird	1988	Warner Bros.	$2,181,286	$0	$2,181,286	$14M
x	Breezy	1973	Universal	$200,000	$17,753	$217,753	$750K

The Verdict

Hope you liked this edition. You can find this and more in the wiki for this section.
The next director will be Robert Zemeckis. One of the biggest falls from grace.
I asked you to choose who else should be in the run and the comment with the most upvotes would be chosen. It had to be a controversial filmmaker. Well, we'll later talk about... Zack Snyder. Oh, BoxOffice chose fuego 🔥
This is the schedule for the following four:

Week	Director	Reasoning
May 20-26	Robert Zemeckis	Can we get old Zemeckis back?
May 27-June 2	Richard Donner	An influential figure of the 70s and 80s.
June 3-9	Ang Lee	What happened to Lee?
June 10-16	Zack Snyder	RIP Inbox.

Who should be next after Snyder? That's up to you.

Swiss Army Knife Players. They don’t need to be the flashiest guys but dependable and reliable.
I always think about Matt Faddes, played for Otago, Highlanders and did a stint at Ulster. Could play everywhere in the backline bar 9. The guy you’d want in your squad that could fit in anywhere but unlikely to be an international superstar.
Who you got?

I just want a Sak style with knife, a bottle opener and scissors. like the bantam from victorinox, but with scissors. are there any suggestions people have for knives like that?
im a big victorinox guy, but the vulpis 4 looks very appealing in terms of tool lay out. ive heard slightly mixed things where some people have some issues with the QC. has anyone had one for long enough to speak on its quality vs victorinox? spending $50+ for a swiss army knife type, i really expect it to last a life time.

Recently finished DS2 Hardcore, so I’ve been playing a lot lately. I feel like the Pulse Rifle is the one gun that’s good for everything, but not the best weapon for anything. If I had to play through Zealot with only one weapon I’d probably choose it over the cutter. But in pretty much every individual situation, there’s something I like better. It’s the Swiss Army knife of weapons for me.

Ive been thinking about getting a skin for a while but I really want a Swiss army knife skin since I have one in real life, maybe one where the inspect animation is opening all of the tools in the knife. Does anything similar to it exist in the game? I think it would be pretty cool

The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

Have 2 nephews in Southern California. 18M and 30M. They’re pretend hipsters but they’re family that I’ve been connecting more with recently.
Want to get something from here and the text in our chat said “please don’t get something that can be bought online”. Things I thought of but was unsure on
** I am in Biel/Bienne and would prefer some thing/ local

1. a Swiss Army knife ?that can only bought in store in Switzerland. Is there such a thing? /model ?Or is their online store/Amazon same as shopping at the actual store?
   
2. Saw filk flak watches (the 30yo would wear this) but then I saw they’re avail online anyway. Any unique pieces that are in store only?
   
3. Basically the only thing I could think of that these children would fist bump me on would be a hard rock tshirt Davos- these definitely cannot b bought online.
   

Any ideas recommends appreciated. (They don’t want ovaltine or cheese).
**edit, they both really like the idea of a Swiss Army knife, but don’t know how to go about making sure I buy one from a store here/(or from the factory) that cannot easily be purchased online anyway. A commenter below suggested engraving. Thank you

I'm a designer who has been using Illustrator for over a decade. I've always preferred it over all their other products, and even used it at times when I probably shouldn't have. It's been my bread-and-butter swiss army knife.
But I'm having so many experiences lately where this software just frustrates me, from small bugs to crashes, performance issues working with small vector-only files, smart guides and snapping behavior being incredibly stupid and unhelpful... so many small quality of life issues that, added together, are making me want to dump this program. I'm also running it on a current-gen Macbook Pro, and I've had less issues in the past on less sophisticated hardware.
Did something happen? Anyone else having this experience? Am I crazy?