I live in the U.S., and I’m holding onto my sanity by a f*cking thread. With everything that’s going on in the country:
• Mass shootings and gun violence happening every day
• Politicians and USSC justices stripping (or actively trying to strip) certain groups of people of their basic human rights
• Climate change denial, and legislation still being enacted that will continue to damage the planet (looking at you, Willow Project)
• Politicians trying to cut funding for SS and Medicare, and pushing for major internet censorship
• Trying to heavily police which people use which bathroom, including children (???)
• Very little separation of church and state (if there was ever any separation to begin with)
• Racism, homophobia, classism, sexism, and overall just sheer hatred and complacency running rampant within specific groups of people
• Etc., etc., etc.
Admittedly, some of those points are less dire than others, but regardless they’re all a product of a greedy, capitalistic, and corrupt government whose main priority hasn’t been taking care of its country’s people for a long time.
And sometimes I sit back and look at the news, and just wonder: ”What’s their goal if they get everything they want?”
What if politicians and CEOs/shareholders get all the money they could ever want, and more? Money that they could never spend in 10 lifetimes?
What if every bill, policy, and regulation that polices and criminalizes every little thing that minorities, immigrants, and women do, is enacted?
What if they get rid of every book about history that they don’t like, every book about sex education, and every book about people that are different from them?
What if (cough, when) the planet eventually goes belly up due to a lack of action taken against climate change and global warming?
What then? When is enough, enough? Don’t they realize that this way of thinking/doing things ensures that they’re always going to want more, even when there’s nothing more to obtain?
Are politicians’/extremists’ goals really to follow in Nazi Germany’s footsteps? They can’t not realize that that’s exactly where we’re heading, right? How did we let it get this bad? Where’s the United Nations? They’re obviously needed more in Ukraine, but the U.S. is close to fulfilling all five stages of fascism, and interference by the UN is needed right now in order to avoid further corruption.
It’s just absolutely indescribable, watching fascism actively take hold of the U.S. Watching people in power threaten and fearmonger everyday folks about things that don’t even matter, for monetary and/or political gain. Watching poverty-stricken people, women, children, immigrants, and minorities consistently be let down and suffer at the hands of their national and state leaders every day. I just genuinely cannot wrap my head around the fact that so many of our leaders are this callous, cold, selfish, and evil. And that we elected them!!!
As a poor, queer woman, living here is soul-crushing, and it’s inescapable. And I feel so powerless to help with anything. Signing petitions and writing to/calling local, state, and federal leaders and agencies rarely leads anywhere. Protesting can get you arrested and charged with RICO and terrorism, and possibly leave you disfigured or dead. The majority of Supreme Court justices, politicians, and CEOs/shareholders outwardly oppose unionizing and penalize those who participate in unions.
I’m not saying that liberation doesn’t come without a price… but we will continue to be punished for the “crime” of simply existing in a capitalism-centered society until we organize, and we won’t. Not on a national scale, at least. Americans are too divided— those corrupt officials and CEOs/shareholders have us exactly where they want us.
Besides, even though many Americans are fed up, they’re also tired, desensitized, jaded, and ultimately pessimistic at this point. They’ve been broken, and while that’s exactly what feeds fascist regimes and allows them to thrive… I can’t really blame them for giving up.
The only thing that I believe could work is an all-out class war, but even then, the government has the military, the police, and nuclear bombs on their side. And you know they’d utilize those in a heartbeat to destroy whatever threatens their wealth and own well-being.
Gotta love living in the “best and most free country in the world”, am I right?

Memory Transcription Subject: Doctor Tadegs of the Zeyzell Science Organization, Medical Division - Genetics Subdivision. Class 4/5 Personnel
The xenos who’d captured me were far from friendly. They didn’t quite do what High Captain Ferlinn’s tormentors had done to her. No, what they did was worse. I languished against a wall as waves of hunger swept through my body. All around me were the Zeyzell that had been captured alongside me, most of them suffering similar fates. We’d gotten desperate at some point and tried to eat the leaves and fruit the xenos had left us. As expected, it’d done nothing except make us nauseous. The idiotic things didn’t even understand the basics of biology.
Well, perhaps that wasn’t exactly true. I shakily raised a paw and stared at it, as if I could see my altered DNA in my pads. The things had… changed us. Most of us at least. I stared at a spot on the floor of this musty cell where Kidah had died. The xenos fed her some meat rations and sat back and laughed as she thrashed around and eventually died. It was a shame. She had a great mind. My eyes drifted to the transparent door to study the cell adjacent to us. The Deathwatch Guards had been separated from us after the third escape attempt and had obviously attracted their attention.
We’d been “cured” and they seemed to be content to let us starve to death while they studied the much more interesting Guards. I let out a small chuckle. The xenos had been driving themselves insane trying to apply their cure to the Guards only to run into roadblock after roadblock. Their cure, as expected, was ineffective against the Guards. All they knew was that the Guards’ genetic code had somehow been “hardened” against unauthorized tampering. Which it was, but I’d eat a kit if the xenos figured out how. Ah, the wonders of nanotechnology.
I glanced back to the other Zeyzell and shook my head. Many of them had been lobotomized after they’d refused to stop resisting after they’d been altered. Terrible wastes indeed. I tongued the explosive trigger in my mouth. I not only could end the torment right here, but it was technically my duty to do so. The only reason I didn’t was a mixture of cowardice and… fascination.
As much of a disgrace to science as these xenos and their experiments were, I was supremely interested in their work. The minor alterations we made to the Deathwatch Guards’ genetic codes usually took months and yet these things had rendered us not only unable to process meat, but consuming meat actually caused such a severe allergic reaction that the victim died. I theorized that they’d found a way to force the immune system to go haywire if it detected enzymes usually found in flesh, although I was uncertain.
I wondered what would happen if I engaged in auto-cannibalism. Would the cure reject its own host? Would I choke to death on my own constricting throat if one of my teeth were knocked out? Could blood even trigger the reaction, or was it just flesh? There were so many questions and so little answers. I glanced once more at my weakening frame. Our ancestors lived in a world of constant scarcity and starvation, forcing them to evolve to last longer without food. Nevertheless, I was running out of time.
Perhaps-
I startled when the door slid open to reveal a small squad of xeno soldiers and one of the lead “scientists.” The xenos marched over to me and yanked me to my feet, shoving me out of the room. I was marched into an interrogation room behind a plexiglass wall and the “scientist” took a seat opposite me.
----------
Memory Transcription Subject: Dr. Bopjin, Kolshian Commonwealth Geneticist
A month.
A fucking month.
A month of absolutely no progress on curing these things. Oh, sure, the other Zeyzell had been successfully cleansed of their filthy meat-eating habits, but these so-called “Deathwatch Guards” hadn’t been changed at all. I looked at the security feed of the group of predators. We’d captured over fifty of the things from that ship and within just a few weeks developed a cure for them. The stubborn things still refused to eat plants but I suspected that starvation would overcome their pride soon enough.
But no matter what we did, the Guards refused to change. And that wasn’t the only thing, We’d practiced a few lobotomies on the other Zeyzell who were still too aggressive and successfully tempered them down. I remembered what had happened when we tried to do the same thing to a Guard. As soon as the procedure began, its skull exploded, taking the surgeon’s tentacles along with it. Interrogation of the normal predators revealed that every Guard had an explosive device in their heads that were set to go off when any unauthorized surgeries or brainscans were committed. All in the name of secrecy.
When we tried to force one of the things to tell us how to deactivate the failsafe, they crunched down on something and just… died. The same happened when we tried again with another “4/5” ranking predator. Autopsies revealed that a tiny hole had been blown in their own brains, less violent that the Guards, but just as effective. Only one of the high rankers were still alive, “Doctor” Tadegs its name was. There was something peculiar about that one. We’d cured it the same as everything else but… rather than acting horrified like its brethren, it seemed almost fascinated.
And so here I was, sitting in front of a plexiglass wall and staring the “scientist” down. The predator’s fur hung off of its frame, a clear sign of starvation. Rather than pretending to be scared like the rest, it simply studied me with those horrifying eyes. As its body decayed, its mind only seemed to grow sharper.
“You know you can end your fellow predators’ suffering if you just tell us how to cure those ‘Deathwatch Guards.’ That’s all you need to do. A short conversation and it’s over.”
Tadegs stared at me.
“And by suffering, I assume you mean the horrors of eating meat?” it rasped. “I would rather not condemn my projects to that. They’re much too valuable to tamper with like that.”
“Projects?” I asked.
Perhaps I could trick it into slipping up.
A gloating tone entered its voice.
“Indeed. They’re among the Science Organization’s greatest achievements. Superior to other Zeyzell in practically every way. The perfect killers. By our standards at least.”
“How did you make these things?”
It laughed.
“I’m not an idiot, xeno. Nice try. Lesser fuck.”
“Listen to me, predator! You are the lesser being by design! I-”
“You claim to be so superior,” it interrupted. “and yet you have an atrocious understanding of biology and practically every other field of science. I’ve made more scientific progress in my career than you things have done in centuries. You may have better control over your instincts than those other animals that call themselves sapient, but your unwillingness to learn, to progress, is what makes you so inferior. You couldn’t understand the first things about the Guards. They are infinitely more complex than this… cure you’ve given me.”
I couldn’t believe the gall of this thing! It literally survived by killing other creatures and it had the audacity to call us inferior?
“Perhaps we should drag the information out of you instead,” I threatened.
“Go ahead and try. See how fast it takes for me to blow a hole in my brain. I don’t want to die, but I will if that’s what needs to happen. You try to remove it and you’ll get the same result.”
I clenched my tentacles in rage. The only thing that stopped me from lashing out at the horrible creature was the glass in front of me. The predator noticed this and chuckled.
“What’s the matter, xeno? Ice-hopper bite your shins?”
I had no idea what an “ice-hopper” was, nor did I care. I forced myself to calm down. I needed to sweet talk this thing. Torture would just end up with a literally brainless predator, and that’s not what we need at the moment. I decided to redirect the conversation for the time being.
“Why do you call me ‘xeno,’” I asked it.
“The same reason you call me ‘predator,’” it replied. “You’re not us, so you’re the enemy. Simple as that.”
I was genuinely surprised by the answer.
“That didn’t stop you from allying with the Humans.”
“I certainly didn’t agree with that. Shit, it was almost a blessing when you fucks killed the Council. Edo has the right idea. You lot are much too dangerous to just leave alone. There’s only one path to peace: your extinctions.”
I wasn’t going to try and correct it about the bombing’s perpetrator. They’d accused us of the attack this entire time and they wouldn’t listen to anything to the contrary. It was frustrating, really.
“You expect me to believe that you’re coming after us because you want some twisted form of peace? We’re your prey. That should be reason enough.”
“That’s the thing, xeno. For us, there are no predators or prey in this galaxy. There is only us and you. The Humans and Arxur can go ahead and fuck off as well. We don’t need anyone other than ourselves.”
I sat back, processing its words.
“I must say,” it continued. “I am fascinated by this cure of yours.”
I eyed it.
“Are you now?”
“Indeed. The Deathwatch Guards are only subjected to minor changes to their genetic code, a process which can take months, and yet here you are, changing a new species’ diet in only a week. For a bunch of bumbling, idiotic xenos, I have to give credit where credit is due.”
I scoffed. I had an idea where it was going with this.
“I’ll shut you down right there, predator. You’re never getting your claws on the cure. Your species will either learn to be herbivores, or die.”
It thrashed its tail in amusement.
"What's so funny, predator? We've already begun producing the cure for your species and soon this war will be over. You are far from home in the worst place possible for you."
It tilted its head ominously.
"On the contrary, I think that I am exactly where I want to be."
Then the alarms started blaring.
"That was actually amazing timing," it snarked.

media.tenor.com/ydMWvQCt6MIAAAAC/horny-shrek.gif
Video: Mirror - Shrek
This is part of a series exploring the hidden motives and actions of the main players during Robert's Rebellion, named LBJ in reference to the influence of Lyndon B. Johnson and the Vietnam War on GRRM's views and writings on war. LBJ also indicates considerations over whether Lyanna + Bobby B = Jon Snow. Previous installments include:

• Rhaegar Had To Be A Warrior
• Why Did Rhaegar Crown Lyanna?
  • Ice, Ice Baby?
  • Political Suicide?
  • Was She 'A Very Kinky Girl'?
• The Forging of Lightbringer: Blue Flowers & Narrow Visors
• Rhaegar Mistakenly Crowned Lyanna
• I am not fond of fish, but when fish is served, I eat it.
• All is fair in love and war...
• Kingsguard Loyalty
• Southron Ambitions & Lies
• The Return of the Prince: Éowyn at the Trident

In the last part, we combed through evidence that Lyanna fought disguised as Rhaegar at the Trident. We'll now examine why Cersei's torture of the Blue Bard indicates that Rhaegar was tortured by Robert, for the crime of crowning his beloved Lyanna with winter roses in front of half the realm.

"It saddens me to see Your Grace so careworn. I say, run off and play and leave the King's Hand to hear these tiresome petitions. We could dress as serving girls and spend the day amongst the smallfolk, to hear what they are saying of the fall of Dragonstone. I know the inn where the Blue Bard plays when he is not singing attendance on the little queen, and a certain cellar where a conjurer turns lead into gold, water into wine, and girls into boys. Perhaps he would work his spells on the two of us. Would it amuse Your Grace to be a man one night?"

- A Feast for Crows Cersei VIII

Mirror on the Wall: King Robert vs. Queen Cersei

Robert is practiced at shutting his eyes to things he’d rather not see, like when he can’t admit he’s too fat for his armor (like Cersei assumes washerwomen shrunk her gowns) or when he pretends wine made him hurt his queen (which Cersei reenacts on Taena, but is frustrated when that Myrish slut enjoys it). Robert fills his court with corrupt lickspittles and admits on his deathbed that he was a bad king when previously he expected Ned to say otherwise. Likewise, Cersei assumes she’s a political mastermind, basically Tywin with teats. In answer to Robert grooming Barra's barely pubescent mother, Cersei grooms and psychologically scars young Lancel (and Tyrek too for all we know). Robert incestuously cheats with his Estermont cousin early in his reign, so Cersei rekindles incest with her brother Jaime. Cersei has bastards killed who could threaten her own children's claims, and Robert tries to have Dany and her unborn child killed to protect the throne from dragonspawn. Robert pretends to care about his baseborn children, and people doubt Cersei loves anyone as more than an extension of herself (although Varys disagrees). Robert does seem to realize he doesn’t love his heirs, which raises the question of whether or not he knew they were bastards.

To her credit, Cersei did not look away. “He saw us. You love your children, do you not?”
Robert had asked him the very same question, the morning of the melee. He gave her the same answer. “With all my heart.”
“No less do I love mine.”

- A Game of Thrones Eddard XII
King Robert and Queen Cersei are an exercise in avoiding hypocritical analysis; any fault decried in one is reflected in the other in a role-appropriate way. Both lie to themselves and others, drink in excess, have cruel tempers, are physically and sexually abusive, and are terrible parents and rulers. Martin has clearly written Robert and Cersei to mirror one another, and if we saw Robert’s inner monologue, surely it would reveal that he’s just as arrogant and delusional as his wife.
It’s often claimed Robert was unaware of the illegitimacy of his heirs, as he would have gone berserk had he known. If one believes Robert would have executed Cersei for cuckolding him, then it must also be true that Rhaegar incurred Robert’s hatred when he crowned Lyanna with sexually suggestive winter roses in front of half the realm. In fact, we know he did:

As for Robert Baratheon himself, some say he laughed at the prince’s gesture, claiming that Rhaegar had done no more than pay Lyanna her due…but those who knew him better say the young lord brooded on the insult, and that his heart hardened toward the Prince of Dragonstone from that day forth.

- The Fall of the Dragons: The Year of the False Spring The World of Ice and Fire
Given his family history of Targaryen betrayal, when the Laughing Storm rebelled against the Iron Throne over a broken betrothal, as well as his possessiveness of Lyanna, Robert would seek vengeance over Rhaegar's actions at Harrenhal. So when Robert talks about Rhaegar raping Lyanna, it’s easy to imagine that he’s reinforcing a lie to himself. Similar to how he projects Lyanna onto Cersei on their wedding night, Robert is capable of projecting his own actions onto Rhaegar. Robert is the person who actually had sex with Lyanna… but only once.

The king touched her cheek, his fingers brushing across the rough stone as gently as if it were living flesh. “I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her.”
“You did,” Ned reminded him.
“Only once,” Robert said bitterly.

- A Game of Thrones Eddard I
This subtext is mirrored by Jon Connington's implied love for Rhaegar. Connington laments that Rhaegar ass-ended his tower only once, then indicates that all the girls cried when Rhaegar played his harp, implying that Lyanna crying over Rhaegar's music was nothing special.

Yet when they parted, Jon Connington did not go to the sept. Instead his steps led him up to the roof of the east tower, the tallest at Griffin's Roost. As he climbed he remembered past ascents—a hundred with his lord father, who liked to stand and look out over woods and crags and sea and know that all he saw belonged to House Connington, and one (only one!) with Rhaegar Targaryen. Prince Rhaegar was returning from Dorne, and he and his escort had lingered here a fortnight. He was so young then, and I was younger. Boys, the both of us. At the welcoming feast, the prince had taken up his silver-stringed harp and played for them. A song of love and doom, Jon Connington recalled, and every woman in the hall was weeping when he put down the harp. Not the men, of course. Particularly not his own father, whose only love was land. Lord Armond Connington spent the entire evening trying to win the prince to his side in his dispute with Lord Morrigen.

- A Dance with Dragons The Griffon Reborn
Robert's false accusation of rape mirrors Lord Mathis Rowan's daughter's lie which landed Dareon, a singer and harpist, on the Wall; if Arya had this information, maybe she wouldn't have murdered him for desertion.

It made her angry to see Dareon sitting there so brazen, making eyes at Lanna as his fingers danced across the harp strings.

_

He is a man of the Night's Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince. And the singer should be on the Wall.

- A Feast for Crows Cat of the Canals
So when one considers that our favorite evil queen had an innocent singer imprisoned and tortured on trumped up charges, it then should not come as a shock that the fan-favorite warrior king would do something similar.

The Blue Bard Mirror

Cersei has the Blue Bard arrested and tortured in the dungeons, framing him for seducing Margaery. Afraid of Maggy the Frog's prophecies and thus jealous of Margaery, Cersei imprisons the young queen's favorite musician, accusing him of bedding her. She enlists Qyburn to torture a false confession from the Blue Bard and lies to herself about its veracity. The main beats of Cersei's motives and actions here 'rhyme' with what actually happened to Rhaegar: jealous over the prophecy-minded, musical prince's use of pale blue roses at Harrenhal, which according to Bael the Bard's song indicates a desire to bed and father a child on a Stark maiden, Robert imprisoned and tortured Rhaegar, also having Lyanna imprisoned in the tower of joy with Dorne's help, raped her, and lied about Rhaegar's guilt.
What follows is an examination of the Blue Bard torture scene from A Feast for Crows, Cersei IX.
Like Bael the Bard, the Blue Bard is linked to pale blue roses, signaling that his story is relevant to mysteries surrounding Lyanna.

“Not kind,” said Cersei, “merely truthful. Taena tells me that you are called the Blue Bard.”
“I am, Your Grace.” The singer’s boots were supple blue calfskin, his breeches fine blue wool. The tunic he wore was pale blue silk slashed with shiny blue satin. He had even gone so far as to dye his hair blue, in the Tyroshi fashion. Long and curly, it fell to his shoulders and smelled as if it had been washed in rosewater. From blue roses, no doubt. At least his teeth are white. They were good teeth, not the least bit crooked.
“You have no other name?”

His eyes are like Robert's eyes, beckoning readers to 'see':

A hint of pink suffused his cheeks. “As a boy, I was called Wat. A fine name for a plowboy, less fitting for a singer.”
The Blue Bard’s eyes were the same color as Robert’s. For that alone, she hated him. “It is easy to see why you are Lady Margaery’s favorite.”
“Her Grace is kind. She says I give her pleasure.”
“Oh, I’m certain of it. Might I see your lute?”
“If it please Your Grace.” Beneath the courtesy, there was a faint hint of unease, but he handed her the lute all the same. One does not refuse the queen’s request.
Cersei plucked a string and smiled at the sound. “Sweet and sad as love. Tell me, Wat . . . the first time you took Margaery to bed, was that before she wed my son, or after?”
For a moment he did not seem to understand. When he did, his eyes grew large. “Your Grace has been misinformed. I swear to you, I never—”

vs.

For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. His eyes narrowed and a flush crept up his neck past the velvet collar. He pointed an angry finger at Ned. "You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I'll find me a Hand who will."

- A Game of Thrones Eddard VIII
Not only do these passages share certain words and syntax, but they also reinforce both Cersei and Robert's rash, retaliatory natures. Both expect to be obeyed.
Cersei's violence towards the singer even evokes Robert smashing the rubies off Rhaegar's armor at the Trident.

“Liar!” Cersei smashed the lute across the singer’s face so hard the painted wood exploded into shards and splinters. “Lord Orton, summon my guards and take this creature to the dungeons.”
Orton Merryweather’s face was damp with fear. “This . . . oh, infamy . . . he dared seduce the queen?”
“I fear it was the other way around, but he is a traitor all the same. Let him sing for Lord Qyburn.”
The Blue Bard went white. “No.” Blood dripped from his lip where the lute had torn it. “I never . . .” When Merryweather seized him by the arm, he screamed, “Mother have mercy, no.”
“I am not your mother,” Cersei told him.

Cersei retorts that she's not the Blue Bard's mother, before having Wat tortured out of jealousy of her step-daughter Margaery, who she thinks is the younger queen from Maggy's prophecy. This is clearly meant to reflect the story of Snow White, in which her vain and wicked step-mother is told by a magic mirror that the princess is more beautiful, leading her to send a huntsman to kill her. He takes Snow White into the deep of the wood but lets her flee, presenting a boar's heart to the evil queen instead. Similarly, Robert is a huntsman who is killed by a boar, with the aid of strongwine supplied by Cersei.

Dorcas put a silver looking glass into her hand. Very good, the queen thought, smiling at her reflection.

- A Feast for Crows Cersei V
I've previously argued that the queen of love and beauty's laurel at Harrenhal was actually formed from white roses and mistaken as pale blue like frost in shadow. "The Blue Bard went white" is just one of many pieces of text that foreshadows this reveal. Azor Ahai forges Lightbringer, so it makes sense that solutions to major mysteries would involve light phenomena.

Even in the black cells, all they got from him were denials, prayers, and pleas for mercy. Before long, blood was streaming down his chin from all his broken teeth, and he wet his dark blue breeches three times over, yet still the man persisted in his lies. “Is it possible we have the wrong singer?” Cersei asked.
“All things are possible, Your Grace. Have no fear. The man will confess before the night is done.” Down here in the dungeons, Qyburn wore roughspun wool and a blacksmith’s leather apron. To the Blue Bard he said, “I am sorry if the guards were rough with you. Their courtesies are sadly lacking.” His voice was kind, solicitous. “All we want from you is the truth.”
“I’ve told you the truth,” the singer sobbed. Iron shackles held him hard against the cold stone wall.
“We know better.” Qyburn had a razor in his hand, its edge gleaming faintly in the torchlight. He cut away the Blue Bard’s clothing, until the man was naked but for his high blue boots. The hair between his legs was brown, Cersei was amused to see. “Tell us how you pleasured the little queen,” she commanded.

vs.

There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor.

- A Game of Thrones Prologue
Qyburn slices off the Blue Bard's nipple and the wet red eye weeps blood... Margaery may favor his music, but it's obvious they did not have a sexual relationship. Lyanna also was moved to tears by Rhaegar's music, but that doesn't mean she desired him. This series is called A Song of Ice & Fire, so it's appropriate to hide major clues to its most important mysteries in a singer's tale.

“I never . . . I sang, was all, I sang and played. Her ladies will tell you. They were always with us. Her cousins.”
“How many of them did you have carnal knowledge of?”
“None of them. I’m just a singer. Please.”
Qyburn said, “Your Grace, mayhaps this poor man only played for Margaery whilst she entertained other lovers.”
Lord Qyburn ran a hand up the Blue Bard’s chest. “Does she take your nipples in her mouth during your love play?” He took one between his thumb and forefinger, and twisted. “Some men enjoy that. Their nipples are as sensitive as a woman’s.” The razor flashed, the singer shrieked. On his chest a wet red eye wept blood. Cersei felt ill. Part of her wanted to close her eyes, to turn away, to make it stop. But she was the queen and this was treason. Lord Tywin would not have turned away.

vs.

The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle, but when her pup brother teased her for crying she poured wine over his head.

- A Storm of Swords Bran II
Like Cersei mentally distorts reality to believe Margaery seduced the Blue Bard, it's easy to imagine Robert convincing himself that Lyanna tempted Rhaegar, to try to make sense of the insult at Harrenhal:

In the end the Blue Bard told them his whole life, back to his first name day. His father had been a chandler and Wat was raised to that trade, but as a boy he found he had more skill at making lutes than barrels. When he was twelve he ran off to join a troupe of musicians he had heard performing at a fair. He had wandered half the Reach before coming to King’s Landing in hopes of finding favor at court.
“Favor?” Qyburn chuckled. “Is that what women call it now? I fear you found too much of it, my friend . . . and from the wrong queen. The true one stands before you.”
Yes. Cersei Robert blamed Margaery Tyrell Lyanna for this. If not for her, Wat Rhaegar might have lived a long and fruitful life, singing his little songs and bedding pig girls princesses and crofter’s lord’s daughters. Her scheming forced this on me. She has soiled me with her treachery.

Cersei urges the Blue Bard to recant certain accusations, reinforcing the fact that people of means have privileges, a theme of King Robert's reign:

"Not true, Your Grace," protested a wispy young man who must have been Caswell. "What is mine is yours."
"Whenever someone said that to my brother Robert, he took them at their word," Renly said.
"Do you have daughters?"
"Yes, Your Grace. Two."
"Then thank the gods that I am not Robert. My sweet queen is all the woman I desire." Renly held out his hand to help Margaery to her feet. "We'll talk again when you've had a chance to refresh yourself, Lady Catelyn."

- A Clash of Kings Catelyn II
vs.

By dawn the singer’s high blue boots were full of blood, and he had told them how Margaery would fondle herself as she watched her cousins pleasuring him with their mouths. At other times he would sing for her whilst she sated her lusts with other lovers. “Who were they?” the queen demanded, and the wretched Wat named Ser Tallad the Tall, Lambert Turnberry, Jalabhar Xho, the Redwyne twins, Osney Kettleblack, Hugh Clifton, and the Knight of Flowers.
That displeased her. She dare not besmirch the name of the hero of Dragonstone. Besides, no one who knew Ser Loras would ever believe it. The Redwynes could not be a part of it either. Without the Arbor and its fleet, the realm could never hope to rid itself of this Euron Crow’s Eye and his accursed ironmen. “All you are doing is spitting up the names of men you saw about her chambers. We want the truth!”
“The truth.” Wat looked at her with the one blue eye that Qyburn had left him. Blood bubbled through the holes where his front teeth had been. “I might have . . . misremembered.”
“Horas and Hobber had no part of this, did they?”
“No,” he admitted. “Not them.”
“As for Ser Loras, I am certain Margaery took pains to hide what she was doing from her brother.”
“She did. I remember now. Once I had to hide under the bed when Ser Loras came to see her. He must never know, she said.”

The previous line draws attention to a gaping hole in the Rhaegar red herring: Rhaegar believed his children by Elia were heads of the dragon, his son Aegon the prince that was promised, and yet he allegedly left three Kingsguard with Lyanna while leaving none to protect his other children. He also failed to explain their disappearance, when doing so would have gone a long way towards keeping his and Lyanna's families alive.

“I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father’s bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.” He leaned forward. “It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon’s head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.”

- A Storm of Swords Tyrion IX
Wat is kept in the black cells and given milk of the poppy for his pain. He is told by Cersei that he can take the black if he lies sufficiently, so he continues to lie when the Faith gets ahold of and also tortures him. Ned was likewise kept in the black cells, feverish from his broken leg but denied milk of the poppy, then was given a similar deal, the black in exchange for lying and dishonoring himself, before being beheaded on the steps of the Sept of Baelor.

“I prefer this song to the other.” Leave the great lords out of it, that was for the best. The others, though . . . Ser Tallad had been a hedge knight, Jalabhar Xho was an exile and a beggar, Clifton was the only one of the little queen’s guardsman. And Osney is the plum that makes the pudding. “I know you feel better for having told the truth. You will want to remember that when Margaery comes to trial. If you were to start lying again . . .”
“I won’t. I’ll tell it true. And after . . .”
“. . . you will be allowed to take the black. You have my word on that.” Cersei turned to Qyburn. “See that his wounds are cleaned and dressed, and give him milk of the poppy for the pain.”
“Your Grace is good.” Qyburn dropped the bloody razor into a pail of vinegar. “Margaery may wonder where her bard has gone.”
“Singers come and go, they are infamous for it.”
The climb up the dark stone steps from the black cells left Cersei feeling breathless. I must rest. Getting to the truth was wearisome work, and she dreaded what must follow. I must be strong. What I must do I do for Tommen and the realm. It was a pity that Maggy the Frog was dead. Piss on your prophecy, old woman. The little queen may be younger than I, but she has never been more beautiful, and soon she will be dead.

Ahem...

It rained all through that night, and come morning Ned, Lem, and Watty the Miller awoke with chills. Watty could not keep his breakfast down, and young Ned was feverish and shivering by turns, with skin clammy to the touch.

- A Storm of Swords Arya VIII
Of interest, the only time our author's name appears in the canon is applied to Lord Confessor George Graceford, a notorious torturer during the reign of Aegon III who had a knack for extracting false confessions. Because of this, and in light of mirrored text during Qyburn's torture of the Blue Bard, surely this scene is of utmost importance in unravelling hidden truths.
Like Cersei with the Blue Bard, Robert may have wanted to witness the torture of Rhaegar. Previously, we saw indications that Rhaegar and/or his companions were held in Ghaston Grey, the Alcatraz-style island prison in the Sea of Dorne. Yet it's also possible Rhaegar was held for a time on the mainland, perhaps at Summerhall or even Storm's End, where Robert lingered while trying to consolidate his military power:

The king's voice was thick with anger. "My brother had a gift for inspiring loyalty. Even in his foes. At Summerhall he won three battles in a single day, and brought Lords Grandison and Cafferen back to Storm's End as prisoners. He hung their banners in the hall as trophies. Cafferen's white fawns were spotted with blood and Grandison's sleeping lion was torn near in two. Yet they would sit beneath those banners of a night, drinking and feasting with Robert. He even took them hunting. 'These men meant to deliver you to Aerys to be burned,' I told him after I saw them throwing axes in the yard. 'You should not be putting axes in their hands.' Robert only laughed. I would have thrown Grandison and Cafferen into a dungeon, but he turned them into friends. Lord Cafferen died at Ashford Castle, cut down by Randyll Tarly whilst fighting for Robert. Lord Grandison was wounded on the Trident and died of it a year after. My brother made them love him, but it would seem that I inspire only betrayal. Even in mine own blood and kin. Brother, grandfather, cousins, good uncle . . ."

- A Storm of Swords Davos IV
In testament to how easy it is to be duped into supporting conflicts based on lies, just as Robert and his allies garnered support for the rebellion based on malicious propaganda, consider this fact about the film The Rock, set at Alcatraz:

A scene from the film was the basis for incorrect and false descriptions of the Iraqi chemical weapons program. Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service was led to believe Saddam Hussein was continuing to produce weapons of mass destruction by a false agent who based his reports on the movie the false claims of weapons of mass destruction were the justification for UK’s entering the war.)

Video: The Rock - Ranger Bob
Going forward, we'll continue the examination of evidence that Robert Baratheon truly earned his moniker the Demon of the Trident, showing that he went along with a deceptive plot to overthrow the Targaryen dynasty, and even raped Lyanna after his loss at Ashford. We will then conclude by examining Ned's inner turmoil, indicting his best friend and king. To preview where this series is headed, in its full audio/visual glory with greater detail, look here.

Me and my husband (31F&32M) are different in the sense that he grew up in a more traditional home in the sense that dinners were family meals, every day. Me on the other hand, I grew up in a home where everyone just ate when they happened to get home, because there was always something in the fridge. Sometimes we’d eat together, sometimes not.
During our relationship, I adopted my husbands style of eating because it was good for spending time together and having a nice routine. That being said I would still occasionally eat somewhere if I happened to be hungry and not wait to get home to eat together. I work away from home whereas my husband is home all the time. He never returned to office since covid and just works from home.
So to the actual incident. Today I had a longer day at work and just decided to eat there before going home. When I got back, my husband seemed mildly upset, saying that it’s the one thing he looks forward to in his day and I need to communicate if I’m doing that, because he had been waiting for me all hungry and it’s our eoutine. To be honest I was a bit defensive and told him it’s not really a big deal because he was, in my opinion, acting increasingly mad and I thought it was overkill. He wanted me to apologize, but I didn’t do it right away, because it wouldn’t have been genuine. I can’t apologize if it feel like it’s being demanded. That triggered him more until he had a mini explosion of frustration and yelled about all the stuff mentioned above and said my pride is preventing me from apologizing. I just startend crying and left. Now I’m cooling off and writing this.
To be honest, I think he TOTLLY overreacted and I think this speaks of a bigger issue in him if a missed dinner is this bad. Matbe he’s depressed, anxious, unhappy about some other stuff too? Idk but it’s how I’m feeling now. So I just want to know, AITA for this?
Tldr: Husband is pissed cause I ate at work and didn’t apologize
EDIT: Just to make a few things clearer. He knew I was working later today, that part wasn’t a surprise. Also I agree that I should have communicated it, that part is totally my fault. I guess the reason I was defensive and non apologetic at first is because while I know he was mildly upset at first, I could tell it was not his usual type of annoyance. It was much more short, demanding and harsh feeling. It has occasionally happened in the past where our miscommunication leads to this type of argument. And if he does have that explosion, he is for a short while very unempathetic and rude, not caring if I cry. It’ll only annoy him more because he feels like he’s the one that’s been wronged. Anyways, if I feel like he’s acting even slightly in that way, I’m much less able to accept my wrong doings and become sensetive and defensive. Which is how I felt today. And that’s just a recipe for disaster I guess. Not trying to say that this stuff makes me right, I’m just explaining my thoughts out loud

Nick’s earliest memories were of an unhappy home. His father, an alcoholic gambling addict, would regularly disappear for days, returning in the same clothes and not having shaved for days, and having blown all their savings on his binge. Eventually, in his mothers attempts to stand her ground, she tried to make him choose his family or the gambling. It drove him into a rage where he ended up beating her severely and running before the police came, and that was the last time he saw his father.
At 12 years old, his mother died of cancer that quickly spread through her body after first being discovered. Refusing to live with the parents of his father, he ran away and lived on the streets. For such a young boy, he was quite shrewd, shoplifting food from various grocery stores. Within just a couple months, he was devising schemes with teenagers to shoplift from department stores to mom and pop stores, and everything in between, selling the goods to local pawn shops. He learned how to learn the dead-zones of cameras, how to pry the security tags off of items, and how to distract security.
Then his friend gave him the idea of breaking into closed stores or vacation homes to rob them. He was careful, wearing a hoodie, tied to leave no stray hairs as evidence, a mask, gloves, different shoes, and a reversible jacket on the outside that he could flip around to quickly match a different description.
It was successful for the first few attempts, but then he decided to do a job on his own, and attempted to rob the wrong store.
He was casing the place, knocking on the door at the same time every day to ensure nobody was answering the door. Breaking a small window atop the lower floor and climbing a garbage pail to hop through. He went to the cash register, feeling like he hit the jackpot when he discovered more than a thousand in cash, totaling to a few thousand. But he wasn’t aware that the building wasn’t at all abandoned and was attached to a second building, and was a front for Patrick O’Sullivan, a member of the Irish Mob, and they just so happened to be doing a deal at the time.
He tried to run away, heading towards the door, but eventually ran into a boy not much older than he was. He always carried a switchblade with him as a last resort, pulling it on the boy. But he didn’t have it in him to stab the boy. He hesitated. And he got caught.
They forced him to take a seat at the table, and Patrick paced back and forth, Nick’s switchblade in hand. “So you want to steal from *me*?” He scoffs as he flicks open the switchblade. “Usually I would just cut off your fingers so you learn your lesson.” He turns to look at Nick was rage in his eyes. “But you *threatened my son*!?” he shouts into the boy's face, holding the knife just inches from his neck.
“Wait.” Nick hears a voice from behind him protest. Walking around him, narrowing his eyes as he gets a better look at his face, then nodding to himself. He has a different complexion than the others. “I recognize this kid. He’s the son of one of ours. Let him go, I’ll handle this.” he says as he turns to one of his associates, handling a much larger sum of money than NIck had just stolen, tossing it on the table in front of Nick. “This should cover the inconvenience.” He turns back to Nick and gives Nick a stern look. “I’ll make sure no threats to your family ever happen again. And this boy will make it up to you tenfold, *right*?” He gives Nick a small, almost imperceivable nod. Nick quickly agrees.
That was the day Nick met Lorenzo Columbo of the Italian Mafia. Nick never understood why he stepped in and saved him, Lorenzo only claimed that he saw ‘potential’ in him, but it earned Nick’s undying loyalty. He became like a father figure in Nick’s life, something he had never had prior. He gave him a place to stay with one of the maids, whose English wasn’t the best, but as she couldn’t have children of her own she took him as one of her own. Lorenzo taught him how to get by with less risk, *without* getting caught, while also teaching him the value of a hard work ethic.
But it wasn’t all smooth sailing, particularly when it came to family issues. Lorenzo’s daughter, Luna, never understood why her father brought Nick into their life. She was very attached, an only child, and being a few years younger than Nick, Lorenzo never explained what happened to her as she would have been too young to understand, and she tried to keep his direct family from getting involved in any ‘business’ issues. But he was trying to teach Nick how to be a man who could take care of himself, as he has already experienced so many things that no boy his age should have been exposed to.
Lorenzo was gone most of the time, handling business, unintentionally neglecting Luna. Like Nick, she was mostly raised by the maids, spending far more time with them than she spent with her own family. The maids and her dog were her primary companions. She never understood why Nick was allowed to join Lorenzo at work, but she couldn’t. She became increasingly jealous of the time spent with Nick, eventually despising him. She would be the first to remind Nick that he wasn’t really one of their family, and that he never would be. She would lash out, disobeying her fathers rules, but Lorenzo had a soft spot for children and she would be allowed to get away with it. The only rule he was extremely strict on is that she wasn’t allowed to leave the house without supervision, in that way he was overprotective of her, fearing that someone might take her away to get back at him.
Nick never understood why she hated him so much. He never did anything wrong to her, and she constantly targeted him. He didn’t ask for any of this, he just did as told, and tried to be obedient - something that Luna certainly was not. Due to how she treated him, he developed a distaste for her. Considering he spent a lot of efforts trying to stay in line and follow the rules, he never understood why she *never* followed the rules, and why he was judged so harshly for breaking the rules, while she could get away with anything. It didn’t seem fair. From that point, though he wasn’t one of their family members, it was almost like they had a never-ending sibling rivalry.
-----
6 years later…
Lorenzo asked Nick to speak to him privately. He confided that they had a major problem. One of the O’Sullivan brothers was dead. Lorenzo expressed that it breaks his heart to have to ask for this, but they need somebody to take the fall, and asked Nick if he could do it, promising that he would make it up to him and be there for him once he’s out.
To Lorenzo’s surprise, Nick gladly accepted. Nick felt that he owed his *life* to Lorenzo and would do *anything* for him, because he wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for Lorenzo.
It wasn’t until the day of the trial that he was informed that *Luna* was the person he was taking a fall for. As much as that explained why Lorenzo needed somebody to take the fall - he couldn’t let his daughter go down, and it would be extremely poor optics if his daughter murdered one of them - he wondered to himself why it had to be her of all people. ‘It’s just like her to *literally* get away with murder!’, he thought to himself. But he was loyal, and still decided to do what he agreed to without dispute.
The part that really upset him was when she took the stand as a witness. She burst out crying, accusing Nick of being ‘crazed’, how all they were doing was hanging out peacefully and over a joke he snapped and couldn’t control himself, giving explicit detail about how brutal he was, how he grabbed the murder weapon - a relatively small but heavy ornamental statue - and just wouldn’t stop hitting him. She almost got it escalated from homicide to murder, and would have if Lorenzo didn’t pay for the best lawyer in the state. Nick tried his best to keep his cool, and had to accept that Luna finally got what she wanted… For Nick to be gone.
-----
10 years later…
Nick is finally released, and Lorenzo has provided him with a home. But they had to be discreet, as it would seem quite obvious if he fell right back in line after serving time for killing one of the Irish without permission.
One day, Lorenzo calls and says it’s an emergency, he needs Nick to meet him at the house urgently.
Nick arrives at the house, standing in the next room awaiting a moment to speak with Lorenzo.
“What do you mean you’re leaving!?” he hears the unmistakable bitterness of Luna’s voice speaking to her father. “You’re leaving me!?” Her voice is becoming increasingly distraught. “I guess I should be used to you leaving by now!” it sounds as if she’s on the verge of tears.
“Sweetie, this is urgent.” Lorenzo says calmly. “Tell me something new, dad!” she says with a scoff. After a brief pause. “... How bad is it?” she asks her father. He remains quiet. “Why aren’t you saying anything!?” Lorenzo breaths in deeply and sighs. “It’s nothing for you to worry ab-” Luna interrupts him. “I’m not a child!” she spats back at him. “Luna, watch your tone!” he says commandingly, leaving no room for dispute.
“I’m putting someone else in charge. You’re going to listen to everything he tells you to do in my absence. Do not give him a hard time, do you hear me? There will be no negotiation. Just because I’m not here, does not mean you can do whatever it is you want to, is that clear?” he demands.
“Yeah, whatever. Have a safe trip dad.” She stomps out of the room, Nick only seeing the back of her head as she speeds by, hiding her face, presumably to hide tears. She didn’t even notice him.
Nick enters the room, Lorenzo seeming relieved at his presence. Nick presumes that Lorenzo wasn’t sure if he would show up. He stands tall, hands clasped behind his back as Lorenzo takes a seat.
“Nick, I have to leave, and I’m leaving you in charge. I don’t have time to explain.”
Without hesitation, Nick responds. “How long can I expect you to be gone?”
“That is left to be determined…” Lorenzo says, sounding almost sad.
Nick gives a small nod. “I assume there will be an announcement of my authority to minimize insubordination? And I’ll need a briefing on your dealings, as well as a place to stay while you are gone.”
Lorenzo lets out a small chuckle. “Nicolaus, you already know all of my dealings. I have never kept any secrets from you. And you could choose any of the guest rooms here to stay in.” Ever since he was a child, Lorenzo was the only person to call Nick by his full name. To others, he was just Nick, or to the maid staff, he was Nicky as a term of endearment.
“You can trust that your business will be safe under my care, sir.” Nick says confidently.
“And my daughter?” Lorenzo tilts his head down, eyes looking up at Nick’s with a piercing gaze.
Up until this point, Nick has done a good job of keeping stone-faced. But he’s sure that at hearing about her, that Lorenzo could see a slight wince on his face.
“Yes sir, of course.”
-----
A little while later, Nick had taken some time to process the situation. He realized he needs to read between the lines of this situation and figure out why *he* was chosen for the job. It makes little sense. Optics are extremely bad, leaving a person with his history not only being accepted back, but now in charge?
Nick dared not question Lorenzo any further, not only because of his integrity and respect for authority, but because he knew if Lorenzo did not give any further information, it’s because he does not feel comfortable speaking around the others.
Then there’s the way he mentioned his daughter. Nick could sense that this means Luna is in danger. There must be some legitimate threat out there, one that his regular people couldn’t handle, or could not be trusted for. And that’s likely related to the reason he’s leaving too. The bad blood between us implies how serious the threat must be.
Nick has to come to terms with the fact that he’d had to dedicate nearly half of his life to her protection. Whether he likes it or not, fate keeps leading him right back to her. Not that she ever has shown any appreciation for it. But he wouldn’t have any life to live if it wasn’t for Lorenzo, so it’s decided. If he must stake his life for her protection again, then so be it.
He just hopes she will cooperate this time… Last he heard, Luna was always notorious for her rebelliousness and knack of getting in trouble. Seemingly even killing people on a whim, despite never being trained in combat.
He suspects keeping Luna in line might be an even more difficult job than the last one he had to do for her…
Once settled in a guest room and Lorenzo preparing to leave, he acts distant from most of the others, with a cold, calm demeanor, always seeming in control, much like Lorenzo. Aside from the maid staff, whom he is quite pleasant with. After all, some of them were the ones who raised him.
He decides it’s time to focus on his duties, approaching Luna’s bedroom door, actually feeling a bit nervous. Not about what she might do, as much as trying to keep himself in check, as he’s well aware of how much unresolved anger there is which has been ignored rather than dealt with. But knowing Luna’s rebellious nature, he knows he needs to establish authority while her father is gone.
He chuckles to himself at the irony of how facing Luna feels like a fate worse than prison.
He steels himself, face becoming stone, jaw slightly clenched, as he knocks on the door.
No longer is he the scrawny boy that she last saw, now a hardened man, looking far different from before. More imposing. Standing 6’1 with a scruffy face and long wavy hair, making his complexion seem darker than it is. In his mind, he expects to see a young, rebellious teenager answering the door, music playing in the background as she rolls her eyes at him in disdain for being interrupted.
-----
While Luna used to be adventurous and outgoing, she was never the same after that day she encountered Liam O’Sullivan.
Nobody but her father knew the truth. The reality that on that fateful day, Liam had tried to rape her. Well, more than tried, he *did* rape her. But she didn’t go easily. Maybe she would have been able to fight him off if her father taught her to defend herself how she always wanted to, but she fought back with all her might. And once he fell off balance, she grabbed the closest thing she could find, the statue, and lost control. Unable to stop swinging until he stopped moving. She never thought she would be capable of something so horrible.
That’s the real reason for her outburst at the trial. She was being forced to relive the most traumatic moment of her life. And it emphatically proved how horrible of a person she was. Sending another person to prison for what *she* did. No matter how much she hated Nick when they were young, that was a fate he didn’t deserve. She’s lived to regret the fact that she not only took one man's life, but ruined another man's life. It’s what she’s best at.
She became much more reserved, even more attached to her father and her dog, Shadow. No longer outgoing, she became very reserved around others, fearful. Especially men.
Her ‘rebelliousness’ and anger she shows others is just a front, not allowing them to see the darkness she harbors inside. Hiding her loneliness by being cold towards others, acting tough when she is extremely sensitive. She only has a few friends who could tolerate her and how much she pushes them away, a habit she formed because she doesn’t feel she can trust anyone. She never smiles, except when with her father or her dog.
Her looks and cold personality have always gotten her the most attention from strangers, yet she yearns for simple attention from one person in her life and that’s her father’s.
Deep down she has a sweet, caring heart, but it’s hidden and covered by layers of fear and trauma. Her guard is always up, especially in a house full of men that she hates. She hides her wounds from everyone. She spends her time mostly exercising, reading, or occasionally sneaking out of the house with Grayson, one of her fathers men that she had taken a liking to, as he helps her out whenever she does decide to sneak away. Eventually it led to a secret relationship between them.
Despite her attachment to Grayson, and their meaningless sex, she had never been able to fully let her guard down. Especially because Grayson has a bit of an abusive nature, to say it mildly. He *has* abused her before, hitting her, but it hadn’t left any major marks. Out of fear of losing the one man in her life that paid attention to her, she has allowed it. Hiding it from her father, because she knows what would happen if he found out. He is slowly destroying the little bit of her self worth that is left.
-----
The silence in Luna’s room is deafening, so she fills it with a mild audible sound of Spotify in the background. That still wasn’t enough to get her mind off of the conversation with her father. While it was the same conversation she’s had with him time and time again throughout her life, this time felt… Different. Very different.
She leans her head back on the headboard and checks to see if she has any text back from Grayson, whom she left a message asking “What the hell is going on?”, and as expected, there was none. She’s sure he knows her father is leaving, but isn’t sure if he knows why, or who will be put in charge. Just the idea makes her scoff, the last thing she needs is a babysitter.
Her dog joins her on the bed, nuzzling his head on to her lap, tail wagging, demanding pats, and coaxing a smile out of her. Shadow is the only thing keeping her from going insane in this house, knowing exactly when she needs comfort and never hesitating to provide it. He remains on the bed with her, resting his head on her thigh, never leaving her side. For a moment, she forgets what’s going on.
She hears a knock on the door, staring at the hard wood for a moment. She hopes it’s Grayson, checking on her to make sure she’s okay, and maybe if she’s lucky, even comfort her. She gets up and heads to the door with that thought on her mind. She wasn’t prepared for what she discovered.
Her heart drops. Familiar dark eyes that are engraved in her mind staring down at her with nothing but coldness in them. She blinks once, twice, wondering if her eyes are deceiving her. The lean boy she knew was standing there, but he was no longer small and lean, his features far more chiseled and distinguished. The suit he wore was striking, unable to hide the muscular frame beneath. She found herself speechless for a moment. It felt unreal for her to see him after he was unrightfully taken away.
He recognized her eyes at first glance, his eyes quickly breaking, darting to the abrupt movement at the side of the room, realizing it’s a dog, the dog's eyes darting between them, measuring our reactions. Even it seems frozen, confused by their reaction.
He notices how much she’s grown. Her face thinner, freckles and imperfections faded. While obviously older and taller, she seems… Smaller? Despite her never being as large as Nick, she had an aura about her that was almost intimidating. But now the air around her is… Different.
But it’s her hair that caught his eye most. Much longer than it used to be. Although he supposes it’s the same for him, it’s an integral part of her presence now. If he were to take a moment to consider it, he’d think she’s grown to look far more feminine and be quite beautiful. But he immediately speeds past those thoughts before they complete, focusing on his job he has to do.
Neither of them said a word, but their eyes spoke a million.
“Nick?” Her voice came out in barely more than a whisper, trying to comprehend if this is real. If so, she had no idea he was even out of prison, as nobody had informed her. A thousand questions ran through her mind. ‘How long has he been out? Why are you at my door? Are you even real? *How much do you hate me*?’ But she can’t bring herself to utter another word.
Having been anticipating conflict, the way she spoke his name almost threw him off, he expected that her father would have informed her that I was in charge, which is why he expected her to rebel, but that seems not to be the case. She seems to be genuinely surprised.
He narrows his eyes, a little, trying to read hers. He’s always prided himself on his ability to read people. But hers are hard to read, as she’s seemingly experiencing a rollercoaster of emotions, and he doesn’t understand why she would feel anything more than disdain based on his expectations. And honestly, it’s unsettling for someone like him to be around such raw emotion without being prepared for it.
As much as he wants to comment on their past, to call out what she did, or at least ask why… He decides against it. ‘Neither of us want to be in this situation. It’s just a job’.
He slowly takes in a deep breath, calculating his words. Standing tall and tilting his head back authoritatively as he begins to speak.
“Your father has put me in charge in his absence. Not just to oversee business matters, but I am personally responsible for your safety.” He leans in, maintaining eye contact, trying to convey the seriousness. “I will not be allowing any harm to come to you while you are my responsibility. If I give any orders, I will need you to obey immediately without question. If you have any questions, ask them later. I will need to know where you are and to give approval of where you are going at all times. I will need your phone number, you will have tracking turned on your phone at all times so I could monitor, and you will always answer when I call no matter what the circumstances. I don’t care where you are going, I only care about your safety. I will not tolerate any disobedience. I will not tolerate being ignored.” He pauses for a moment, to see how she is taking his words.
“I need you to tell me that you understand.” He maintains a serious look on his stone face as he awaits an answer.
Her brow furrows as he utters sentence after sentence, focused on how much his voice has changed and is no longer as soft as it used to be. She feels like she’s staring at a stranger, but then she begins to realize what he’s saying.
She shakes her head, feeling like he hadn’t even given her a chance to speak as he lays a newspaper's worth of rules in front of her. All she can do is let out a perplexed “Huh?” He’s the one her father left in charge of her? The one who never tolerated her? The one who spent half his life in prison because of her? There is no way… She scoffs, trying her best not to lose it on him, but it’s hard.
“I’m sorry, what? Do you really think I’m going to agree to this!?” she asks, with pure anger in her tone. She knows for a fact he doesn’t want to do this either, so why didn’t he say no to her father? How could he agree to look after the person that ruined his life? It only drives her crazier that the look on his face isn’t changing or reacting to her. She used to always know how to push his buttons and get a reaction. She looks over at Shadow, almost for assistance, but he is looking at Nick with a calm curiosity, even wagging his tail slightly. *It figures*, she thinks, *He usually hates men, but of course when she wants him to…*
“There will be no tracking my phone, no obeying you, no approval from you. I’m not doing this.” She pushes past him, out the door, her blood boiling, heart racing, palms sweaty and hands shaking. ‘How does he think he’d ever get away with this? When the hell did he get back anyway!?’
To her surprise, Lorenzo is with his men, including Grayson, putting on his coat in the living room. “Luna. I take it you spoke with Nicolaus?” He speaks confidently. *This is real…*
“Will you be okay?” Lorenzo asks, placing his hands on her shoulders. All she can think is *how could I possibly be okay?* as she fights back tears in her eyes.
“I’ll see you soon.” he says, stroking her cheek. She fears this might be the last time she ever sees him… And she doesn’t want to part like this. She wraps her arms around him, hugging him tight, enjoying his presence for as long as she has it. He soon breaks the embrace, seeming reluctant as he nods his head, departing through the door. She rushes back to her room before she allows her tears to escape.
-----
-----
I appreciate it if you’ve made it this far! I’m looking for a long-term partner to play out this scenario where I’ll be playing Nick.
Despite our rivalry, we end up being stuck together. In the middle of a life of crime and a criminal conspiracy, thrown into a situation where we must rely on each other. With myself as the protector, and you, who is thrown in to a world you've always been hidden from.
The mystery of what’s going on will only deepen. What’s *really* going on? Why is there danger? We’ll have to question trusting anyone.
This setting should leave it pretty open in the directions we could go, and while I have a few ideas of ways we can take it, I welcome your ideas as well!
As we get to know each other, while there’s so much that led to our rivalry, there’s much more that was secret and that we’re unaware of about each other. While we may handle things differently, with Nick relying on staying calm, and Luna relying on overreacting, we both have lived a life where we felt abandoned, and have our own ways of hiding what we think or feel, both of us having trouble getting closer.
He’s forced into a role of her protector, and she’s never been able to feel safe around people. And he never knew all that she went through, falling for the illusion she gives that she doesn’t care about anything, never knowing how badly she needs that protection. By giving her somebody she could actually feel safe around, and him coming to terms with the fact that he may voluntarily want to protect her if given a choice, there's many threads that could eventually evolve into them developing feelings for each other, as much as they may want to resist that happening.
Along the path, there may be a lot of drama and disputes, pushing each other away, but due to the situation, we’ll be forced back together.
Despite being a very lengthy introduction, I’m open to any length of responses, there’s no requirements in length! Whatever feels right! It’s all in good fun!
Feel free to let me know any adaptations or ideas you may want to include, or requests!
If interested, I hope to hear back from you!

Previous.
Admiral Shane stood in the room usually used for training, but had been cleared out so he could make the conference over holophone, and a larger room helped with the scale when they were addressing the entire Federation Council.
It had taken only about 2 ½ days to get to the Golden Egg’s position, as with their progress in the uplifting process - and the fact that they had access to FTL technology - they had been allowed to send a ship out into the Federation, albeit supervised. As such, they decided on sending a military ship, seeing as there was a much smaller chance of an interstellar incident happening with disciplined Marines.
The chamber was a semicircle, with the Chairperson’s seat at ground level, in the center of the floor, with each next row elevated slightly, so that the gathered Representatives were situated in a step-pattern, ascending to the top row of the chamber. He noticed that the ‘insectoid’ species all were situated to his right of the chamber, if he was looking out at them.
Beside him stood Admiral Ree’Scote, being his ‘escort’ into the Federation; Kyle, as the boots-on-ground witness; Officer Kit’Ahnj, being the Federation’s liaison officer; and Captain Vohr’Doe, as the commander of the vessel that found the planet. But of course, it was him that was currently the center of attention.
He had reviewed the team's video logs, and he agreed that whatever was on that planet was likely hostile; the sounds that came from that darkness - not to mention the fear he felt when looking into it - were so… wrong, he didn't feel any other classification would be right. And - after the testimony of Officer Kit’Ahnj, backing up Kyle’s report, and the video - the Council felt the same way; however, they were less inclined to destroy the planet. He was currently being addressed by the Council Chairwoman, a bipedal crocodile, whose title was Chairwoman Hahss’Chom, (which - when she pronounced it - was little more than a hiss, followed by her snapping her jaws shut.)
“We have ways to prevent… whatever this is - from ever being able to exit their system, even if they were to develop FTL technology.”
“With all due respect, ma’am,” he said, keeping his focus on her, and not the - obviously - judging races that surrounded him, all of whom represented different animals from Earth, each one the Speaker for their respective races, “We’ve dealt with a mindless force of nature that was only intent on killing…
“Europa was one of Jupiter’s moons, and was roughly 90% the size of Luna. When we began spreading out from Earth, the question of drinkable water became a problem. And while it's - relatively - easy to make it from its base components, Europa was almost entirely water, though not all of it was liquid.
“Once we had developed the technology to land there, we set out drilling to the ocean, which was located beneath a shell of ice that was estimated to be between 10-15 miles deep… We made it four miles before we lost all resistance. The drills were shut down, and new readings were taken; but by the time they realized what was happening, it was too late.
“At first, the teams thought that it was a geyser, which are - were - a fairly common thing, though there had been no signs that one was building up there. Well, they managed to get far enough away before… The ice where they had been working melted, but there was no geyser. What came out of the hole resembled, well, it most resembled a machine AI that humanity dreamed up as a monster in a movie. The one I reference here was basically a metal ball with countless metal tentacles from its ‘back’, and what came out of that hole looked remarkably similar.
“And it wasn't alone. About a dozen of those [‘squids’] came out, and made straight for our people. It was… a massacre; our weapons had no effect on them whatsoever. And after they were done killing everyone, they began dismantling and consuming the ships and equipment. And afterwards, they turned their gazes upwards, launching themselves from the surface of the moon with the force of their limbs, alone.
“Judging from the fragments of their bodies we were able to recover after encounters with them in space, we determined that they were iron of the Fe oxidized variety, so the metal of their bodies didn't interact with the water. They were also incredibly light, especially for how dense they were; it took several missiles to destroy each, and we had no other choice, as they were heading directly at the ships in orbit.
“We retreated to a tactical distance, and while we tried so many different ways to communicate, we found nothing. We even captured one alive, and still, there was no way to communicate. Every attempt was met with the utmost hostility. And throughout this process, they continuously sent out others from beneath the ice, most of them sent towards our ships, yet others were sent out towards the asteroids that share Jupiter’s orbit around the sun. We had no idea what they were doing with the asteroids, whether they were mining them for food, or using them as places to reproduce - or both - so we eventually decided to bombard them with munitions until they crashed into the planet. But this was after we had exhausted every possible avenue of communication.
“We eventually came to a decision - as a people - to destroy the moon, but we had to be smart about it. The Europans had already proven they didn't need to breathe, as they could survive the cold, irradiated vacuum of space without any external protection, which took blowing Europa up off the table.. So - after much deliberation - it was decided to create a ship that could use tractor beams to move the planet. For this, we converted another of Jupiter’s moons - Ganymede - into a ship, and once the construction was complete, we renamed it the Europa Contingency.
“From there, we caught Europa, and towed it to Sol, where we cast it in, to destroy the Europans, down to the last one… It's not something that we’re proud of - as a people - but it was what we needed to do, in order to survive.”
There was a resounding silence after he finished with his speech, and he allowed them the time to process what he'd just told them. He was suddenly very self-conscious, and he felt as if he hadn't explained their plight sufficiently. They were already classified as the most aggressive that their measurement system could register, what must they think of humanity after this. Finally, the Chairwoman broke the silence.
“Though it sounds as if you may have committed genocide on a sapient species… This Council can claim no better. While we have ways to contain FTL travel, this was only put forth as a possible avenue to explore after our predecessors had glassed multiple planets who had turned out to be too hostile to conduct civil interactions with. To have that threat in the same system as you, with no real barrier between your peoples, well, I don't believe any here could truly blame your people for coming to this decision… However, we can't be sure that we face the same threat. Nor can we order anyone to go into the darkness to find out.”
The suul’mahr representative, Grol’Rosh - a solid white coloration to his fur - spoke up, his voice playing out over the speakers, as he was sitting in the topmost row.
“We could send a probe into the midst of it; that could tell us what we're dealing with. And if they are entirely hostile, we could take a specimen up to the atmosphere, to see if it survives.”
He heard a strangled sound of protest, and he didn't need to look around to see the fearful look on Kyle’s face; he gently held up a hand to assuage the Ambassador, as he knew full well what his concern was.
“We believe that the contents of the darkness are… harmful to the generally accepted term of ‘sanity’. And not in the sense of ‘it would be dangerous to any non-human’; as in, to anyone. If - however - you should need a volunteer, then-”
“I will watch it,” Grol’Rosh cut him off. Admiral Shane merely looked at him, sighing lightly as he nodded once in acknowledgment to the suul'mahr. Captain Vohr'Doe stepped up at that point, calling to the hangar to release the drone, and to program it to enter the darkness just beyond the leading edge. A small communication satellite was set out after it to retain contact with the drone when the curve of the planet would render it beyond their scope of reach.
It took several minutes, during which Grol’Rosh inserted earbuds into his ears, and had his personal screen connected to the probe's camera. While he was watching the drone's progress, it was also taking its own readings, and sending them back as text. Which is how they knew when it was breaching the atmosphere, and when it encountered the darkness; Kyle had been right: it wasn't natural.
The reports coming back from the drone were confusing, to say the least; firstly because ‘the darkness’ was actually solid material, though ‘solid’ was used loosely here, as it was more like a ‘dust storm’. Except that it wasn't just dust - as there were readings of sand, and soil in the mess - because nanoscanners inside the drone determined that each grain of soil was coated in a thick, viscous material that absorbed all light that hit it.
The material was what caused the confusion, as when it was analyzed, it was determined to be… everything. There were traces of all genus of races, from canines, to felines, insects, to pachyderms; there was even all manner of aquatic animals, as well. There was no plant life detected in the sludge.
As imagined with readings like that, the drone had more difficulty descending to the surface of the planet than it normally would have, but strangely, not as much as one might expect; it was only when the craft sped up that they realized it was being pulled. The altitude of the drone continued to drop at a steady rate, until it was about 50’ from the ground, according to the readings from the expedition team, as it was heading for the exact location they had originally made camp. However, the drone was sending even more confusing information, as it was now reading the ground to be 25’ away, and moving quickly.
The drone was about 10’ from the ‘ground’ when Grol’Rosh began howling like he’d been stabbed. Looking up in his direction, everyone gasped in horror as he began clawing at his eyes, quickly rending his face, and entirely destroying the delicate orbs within. He wasn't done, however, as he then began clawing at his ears, his Gift obviously activated, as he tore straight to his skull in only a single swipe, the unnerving sound of claw scraping bone filling the room.
Two suul'mahr guards rushed towards him as soon as he'd begun clawing his eyes, and were almost to him when he reached his hands out to the sides, and brought them together - with his head still between them - with obviously tremendous force.
One of the guards - a dark gray specimen - leapt forward at the last second, tackling him by leverage of his left arm. That still left his right arm free, though it had only succeeded in a glancing blow, which still knocked him unconscious with a sickening /thud**. There was a stunned silence that followed that ordeal, until Chairwoman Hahss’Chom shakily gave an order for medics, who soon arrived, two kanfi’doe that - after stabilizing his wounds - quickly carried Grol’Rosh down the stairs, and loaded him onto a stretcher they had brought with them.
The silence reigned for a long minute after they’d wheeled him out, broken finally by the Chairwoman’s subdued voice.
“I call a vote: all in favor of allowing the humans to bring their ‘Europa's Contingency’...?” She tapped a few commands into the datapad in front of her, and there was a quiet flurry of movement as the rest of the Council cast their votes.
“It's unanimous: Admiral Shane, we hereby give the Europa’s Contingency permission to travel to this system, and then to return to Sol when the job here is done. Are we clear on this?”
“Crystal, ma’am. I can have the orders dispat-”
He was cut off as a keen'yohng appeared by his side.

Commodore Vah’Rin came out of subspace, his prey already in his sights. The eight other captains under his command confirmed lock-on status, and his communications officer informed him that they had an opening into their link, though it was protected by an unusually strong defense system.
“Well,” he replied, “We did intercept the report on humans; they have artificial intelligences. They probably have one with that cylindrical ship that has too many guns to not be military. Well, this certainly changes things: an a.i. would be by far more valuable than an entire hold of drahk'mihn. If we can capture it, and reprogram it to obey us, we could drop down far enough into subspace that we could make a trip of several months cut down to as many weeks… Patch me into their communication; I’m done hiding…”
He let a cruel smile play across his face as his entire bridge turned into the Federation Council Hall; his ship would project his image into their conversation, but not those of his crew around him. And there in front of him were the objects of his focus, as he was certain he appeared before them, wearing his black Commodore’s jacket.
“How nice of you to join us, Commodore.”
He turned to the owner of the cold voice that ‘greeted’ him.
“Ah, Council Member Toss’Vah,” he replied cheerily to her, “Good to see you again. How are things back home?”
She regarded him coldly, then almost spat,
“It was widely believed that you were still alive; I regret to have that theory confirmed.”
“What can I say?” he asked, smiling, “This ship was just too good to not take it. Give my regards to the president; this ship truly is state-of-the-art… But, I didn't break into this conversation to speak with you.” He turned to the humans, who regarded him with wary expressions, if his experience with the suun'mahs and kanfi’doe was anything to judge by.
“Greetings,” he began jovially - no reason not to be civilized, “I - as you may have gathered - am Commodore Vah’Rin, and I regret to inform you that you are under the guns of 9 ships, all of which are heavily armed. Now, this is normally the part where I tell you that if you cooperate, then we can get through this with a minimal amount of casualties - someone always has to try to be the hero, don’t they? - but I have a different proposition for you, today: give me you a.i., and we’ll leave this system - and your ships - without any hostilities. Refuse, and… Well, I think you get the idea.” He smiled a predatory smile that was more of a leer than anything.
“This is outrageous;” the current Councilwoman stated, righteous anger evident in every syllable, “We not stand for-” but he cut her off.
“We’re too far away from any Federation outposts, and the nearest suun’mahs patrol is… well, right here.” He gestured to Admiral Ree’Scote.
“So, no matter how this plays out, there’s really nothing that this council can do about the goings-on here. So - as I said earlier - I’m not speaking to you; this has nothing to do with any of you.” He turned his attention back to the humans.
“So, what is your answer? And might I remind you, while you may - or may not - be able to take on our ships at 3-1 odds, one of your ships is not only not made to fight, but is also filled with civilians; are you willing to risk all of their lives?”
“How about this,” the human who was obviously military began, “You choose six of your ships, and use those to square off against us; the other three can hang back, and guard the Golden Egg from leaving. If you win that battle, you can take the A.I. stationed there. If not, then your other ships have to leave us in peace.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name and rank.”
“Admiral Shane of the Sol Defense Force.”
“Ah,” he continued, “Well, Admiral Shane, I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. It’s all, or nothing, which means that even if you feel comfortable taking on all of our ships at once, we will still target the civilian vessel. There is no other option; sometimes you only have bad paths to choose from, and you must take the lesser of the evils.”
Admiral Shane stood taller, and defiantly responded with,
“We of the Sol Defense Force cannot - in good conscience - hand over a single soul to slav-”
But he was cut off by the other human behind him, the one he actually recognized. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a small blue cube, which he held out as he angrily stated,
“You can have mine.”
“Ah,” he replied jovially, turning to the smaller human, “Mr. Redding, I believe?”
“It’s Ambassador.” The defiant little monkey at least seemed pretty fearless in the face of life-or-death negotiations, so he figured that he deserved at least that recognition; he certainly seemed to realize the value of diplomacy over fighting.
“Ambassador, then; good to see someone here has a level head on their shoulders.”
The cube reformed into a small human, as the Admiral rounded on his civilian counterpart; they both started talking at the same time.
“Excuse me?! You have no right to auction me off like some-
“... hell do you think you’re doing?! How dare you offer up a Sollian to a slaver?! I ought to knock the sh-”
But they were both cut off as Ambassador Redding simply stated, talking louder than both of them,
“Artificial Intelligence Override Code: JKJKLOL69!”
The small android stiffened up, and remained rigid, as if it were a simple robot, while the Admiral recoiled, raising an arm slightly as if to defend himself.
“How dare you?” he said with disgust to the Ambassador, “That’s only to be used in the event of a rogue A.I., this-!”
“This,’ the Ambassador interjected angrily, “Is bigger than all of us! I know what I’m doing.” He turned to address the Commodore,
“You will take it, and you’ll leave. In peace. Give me… 12 Standard minutes - I have to collect the memory core - and we’ll meet halfway between the 'civilian’ ship, and your group, ‘cause you sure as hell aren't coming aboard either of our ships.”
“That sounds acceptable; however, once the transfer is made, you will keep your shuttle in position until we have determined that the package is authentic, at which point, we will leave. If it is a fake, then I won't hesitate to blow your little shuttle to dust, and then I’ll take everyone I can get my hands on; and with 9 ships, we have more than enough space to hold you all. And we will both come unarmed.”
“I’ll be accompanying you,” the Admiral said sternly to the Ambassador, “I need to document everything that happens so I can send it back as evidence in your hearing.”
“Yeah,” the smaller primate answered testily, “You do that…”
With a vindictive smile, Commodore Vah’Rin motioned to end the transmission.

Kahv’Hosh sat in the pilot’s seat, having been chosen to transport the humans out to the meeting spot. They were both currently silent, and the air was so thick with emotion that you could cut it with a knife. They were already in place, and were currently waiting on the pirate ‘commodore’ to reach their shuttle, with an estimated thirty seconds until they made contact. With a solid /thud/, they were connected, and Kahv’Hosh equalized the pressure in the sleeve, and soon heard a slight knock on their door. Kyle and the Admiral had already moved to the door - the large metal cube with the interface screen sitting beside it - and Kyle reached forward to open it.
The keen’yhong walked onto their shuttle, and his eyes immediately fell to Kyle’s waist.
“I thought we agreed no weapons.” The man’s voice wasn’t as hostile as he would have expected, as he stared at the big gun on Kyle’s waist, and the smaller - but still obviously deadly - pistol on the Admiral’s.
“Yeah,” Kyle replied sarcastically, “Because you don’t have some hidden weapon on you…”
The ‘commodore’ simply smiled, and turned to the box.
“This is my a.i., I take it?” he asked, still smiling.
Kyle’s mood seemed to darken further as he reached into his pocket, pulling out the cube that became Kay’Eighty at his command.
“Begin downloading into the core, and commence factory reset.”
He set the cube down on top of an open slot beside the monitor, and a loading screen immediately came up. It only took a few seconds, but it was still a tense few seconds; soon, the box chimed, and Kyle removed the cube.
“I’ll be taking that, as well,” the ‘commodore’ replied, reaching a hand into his jacket; Kyle simply scoffed.
“No, you want to make your own mithril, then you figure out how to make it, yourself. You’ve already got the core, that’s all you need. And that’s all we agreed on. If you wanted the mithril, too, then you should’ve said so; not my fault you failed to specify that point.” There was no amusement as he said it, though it was obvious that he enjoyed that little stunt. And while the ‘commodore’ obviously had his hand on the handle of his gun, he wouldn’t be able to move faster than two humans; the two suul’mahr lurking just beyond the airlock wouldn’t be much help after he was already riddled with bullets.
The ‘commodore’ regarded him for a few moments, then began laughing a cruel, calculated laugh. He gestured behind him, and one of the suul’mahr - all-brown fur - came aboard, carrying the large box onto their shuttle. After he’d observed its successful transfer of the package onto his shuttle, the ‘commodore’ turned back to Kyle.
“As stated before: you will hold this position until either my flotilla leaves, or destroys you for trying to trick me. And this time, I expect you to follow my directions, because you’re already targeted by my lead ship… Well, until next time.” With that, he exited the shuttle, their airlock door closing behind him, both humans remaining staring at the door.
They finally turned away when the shuttle disconnected, moving to look out the viewport to watch the other shuttle go back to its ship. Finally, his nerves got the better of him, and he asked to no one in particular,
“Do you think he will truly spare us?”
“There’s a chance,” Admiral Shane replied, “Depending on what kind of pirate he is; they can have varying codes of honor. He does - however - self-admittedly sell people into slavery, so I don’t know how strong his sense of ‘honor’ may be.”
They were all quiet for a while as he considered this, until Kyle’s soft voice - filled with sorrow - broke the silence.
“I’ve never killed anyone before. I mean, the mahn’ewe were all in a fit of rage; and while I’d fantasized about it, I didn’t exactly plan it. Now, though - with all this time to stop and think about it…” He fell silent at that, watching the shuttle go, though Kahv’Hosh wasn’t sure he was actually seeing it. To his surprise, Admiral Shane reached up and grasped Kyle’s shoulder, his voice gentle as he replied,
“It’s never easy. And while the mahn’ewe can probably be overlooked by your conscience, this is - obviously - a different situation entirely. There’s a chance that you never truly recover from this, but just always remember the innocent lives you’re saving by doing this; they’re what’s going to get you through the low points.”
Kyle nodded in acceptance, and then his face contorted, and a predatory smirk lit up his countenance.
“Have you ever seen one go off?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the viewport.
“Well,” the Admiral replied, a mischievous note in his voice, “I have seen a number of tests; of course, there was that pirate faction that we traced to their base in an asteroid. One on each side, and it was history.”
Kyle let out a cruel snort of laughter, and - not taking his eyes off of the viewport - said,
“Kahv’Hosh, did you ever get around to reading about the women of Weinsberg?”
He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he decided to play along.
“I did," he replied slowly.
“And if you knew nothing else about humans,” Kyle began, a cruel smile on his face, “Would you have accepted that deal?”
He managed to take a breath in before something in his mind clicked. Something had seemed off from the beginning, but he couldn’t place exactly what it was. He’d been given clearance to review the transmission from the part where the ‘commodore’ broke in, and he had been replaying it in his mind ever since then, trying to figure out what was gnawing at his mind like a pup with a bone.
But nothing came out at first, as his mind struggled to form words; he managed simply to point out the viewport to the shuttle - that was almost to its ‘mothership’ - and to look back and forth between him and it, before he finally managed to spit out,
“Wh-... you-... why would the arti-... the ‘override code’: why would it be in Galactic Standard?!”
The smile on his face widened, and he was suddenly aware that he was on a small shuttle with two Class 12 aggressors. Kyle - however - merely pulled the cube from his pocket, and said,
“Kay’Eighty?”
The cube began to dissolve, reforming into the humanoid shape that was her android form.
“Yes, Ambassador Redding?” she replied in a distinctly… robotic voice. Kyle merely scoffed, however, and rebutted with,
“Aw, come on; it’s not like he gave us ample opportunity to talk: I had to think of something on the fly…”
She suddenly became much more ‘sapient’ crossing her arms, and looking off to the side as she sighed.
“Fine,” she replied, “Whatever; what do you want?”
Kyle snorted in laughter, and asked,
“Has he made it to the optimal range, yet?”
Kay’Eighty sighed again, and looked out the viewport.
“Just about, yeah.”
“Then I leave the honors to you,” he finished, holding her up for a better view of the viewport.
“Detonation in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…”
Kahv’Hosh found that though he was sure this was going to be on par with their aggression level, he also couldn’t look away; like watching an asteroid impact a planet: he knew something bad was coming, but he just couldn’t bring himself to break eye-contact with the nine ships in formation, the middlemost one having already received the shuttle. And even as he watched, the ships seemed to draw closer together.
At first he thought that it must be his eyes playing tricks on him, but soon enough, not only were they drawing closer together, but they began to spin around the central ship, as if caught in the gravity-well of some insanely dense celestial body. He saw small explosions issuing from the sides. with little bits breaking off into the void of space, only for the expanding singularity - for that was obviously what it was - to suck the life-pods back into its center, where everything seemingly disappeared into nothingness. Soon, the ships themselves began breaking apart, still doing their destructive, tumbling dance around the spot where the ‘commodore’s ship used to be.
Piece by piece, the ships began to break apart, ‘falling’ into the center, where they were obviously compressed beyond what physics would normally allow. He tried not to think about the fate of the people aboard the ships, gravity increasing to the point that you were crushed under the weight of your own skin, having to watch - if they could even survive - as the ship around them broke apart, exposing them to the blackness of space.
He managed a quick look back at the humans, and was granted some small consolation in that the evil smiles had left their faces, and both had looks of somber determination gracing their features. And at that moment, he believed he knew what it was that set them so high on the aggression scale; even they were appalled by their actions - by their own weapons - and yet not even the prospect of becoming a monster would stop them from removing a perceived threat.
Soon, all pieces of the ships were gone, and about a Standard minute after that, the anomalous gravity readings disappeared. And suddenly space had returned to ‘normal’, as if nothing unnatural had just happened. Kyle broke the silence in a neutral voice as he said,
“Well, let’s get back to the ship; Cap’m’s gonna tear me a new one for this…”
[Next.] Patreon

The Finish Time Prediction Tournament – Giro d'Italia

• Full Results!
• Winner
• Last Place
• Tournament

With a last minute alteration removing 120 kilometres from Stage 13 and DNFs claiming half of the favourites, our predictions for the Giro were a little out of whack. Let's take a look at how we fared in each game and then meet our winners...
Classic - Winner

• Just two players predicted a finishing time faster than Primoz Roglic's final time. None of us were within even an hour of that with the best pick belonging to u/YourBeneluxOverlords at 1:05:50 off.
• Of our picks for the winner, only Primoz Roglic (11 players) and Thibaut Pinot (one player) finished the race.

Classic - Last Place

• Our performance did not improve much on the other side of the results sheet. Only one player came within two hours of Nicolas Dalla Valle's final time: u/HumanFoundation. They were out by 1:59:32.
• We did succeed in picking three of the bottom ten riders in Alexander Krieger, Albert Torres, and Mark Cavendish!

Tournament

• The carnage continued in the Tournament. Exactly half of our players took a backup rider and half chose to Ride-or-Die. Two-thirds of us would have a rider DNF including all of our 17 Remcos...
• Nine players were skunked entirely. We weren't even lucky: just four players matched their rider's final digit being even or odd.

Overall winner

• With the chaos clouding our crystal balls, the Giro was a relatively low scoring affair.
• Two players would share the overall honours. Congratulations to both u/Thomas1VL and u/Positive_Ad2228 who each scored 25 points in total. Your fancy pink shield flairs will be awarded to your soon!
• u/HumanFoundation took the third step on the podium with a score of 23. They were the top score in the Last Place competition, too. Well done!

Full Results!
Standings

• After the first Grand Tour of the year, it's u/Positive_Ad2228 who leads the overall competition with 77 points. They're trailed by u/Nussig on 65 points and u/RaylanGivens8 on 54.

Full Standings!
We head into the summer with it all to play for and a lot of races on the board. TFTPT will continue with the Criterium du Dauphiné on June 6! Entries will open soon.
If you'd like to get an ID or think there is a scoring error, please message u/GregLeBlonde
Links
2023 Fantasy Guide
SRFL
WSRFL
TFTPT

“I’m sorry; we’re going to astral travel to a flea market?” Charlotte asked incredulously as she watched Genevieve and I set up a meditation circle under the shade of a towering old willow tree in my cemetery. “What if we want to buy something? How will we bring it back?”
“We’re not going there to shop, Lottie. Samantha’s finally had a vision about Emrys,” Genevieve explained.
The Veil between the Physical and Astral Planes is exceptionally weak in my cemetery, especially at night and on hallowed days. When I sleep there, my subconscious mind is highly receptive to all manner of revelations from the Spirit World. When I saw a Blood Moon rise on the night of May fifth, the same night as a penumbral eclipse, I knew that my dreams would be prophetic.
“I had a dream about him last Friday,” I expounded. “He’s at some sort of otherworldly marketplace, one that’s not connected to the Crypto Chthonic Cuniculi, so it’s mostly inaccessible to the Ophion Occult Order. In my dream, Emrys invited us to come and speak with him while we were lucid. He drew a sigil for me, the same one I’ve drawn in the middle of the mediation circle. He said that all I’d have to do is toss an Undying Rose – the earthly effigy of the rose Persephone used to steal a drop of his blood – into the sigil and it will become an astral portal to where he is.”
I held up the deep purple rose that I had cut from its bush earlier that day. I don’t know for certain where the roses came from, but my best guess is that they were made by the same Occultist who hallowed my cemetery to Persephone; Artaxerxes Crow. They have some connection to Emrys as well, since the only other time I saw someone else use one was when his avatar was summoned into the Physical Plane on Halloween 2020.
Knowing that Emrys wouldn’t dare to set foot in a place that was sacred to the Goddess who was ultimately responsible for his cosmic defeat, I gently tossed the rose into the middle of the sigil.
“He invited all of us?” Charlotte asked with an incredulous raising of her eyebrow.
“He said me and my coven. If he had just meant me or me and Genevieve he would have said that,” I replied. “You and Elam are coming too. I want as many eyes on this place as possible so that we don’t miss anything. We may not get an opportunity like this again.”
“And this is safe? Visiting some random flea market between worlds?” Charlotte asked.
“Samantha and I have visited the Underworld and come back no problem,” Genevieve reminded her. “So long as we’re bound to our bodies and Elam is bound to Samantha, we can come back anytime. Don’t worry; this is going to be a blast! Adventures like these are the best part of being a Witch.”
“The only reason you were able to go to the Underworld is because Samantha’s cemetery came with an astral portal in the back,” Charlotte countered, gesticulating in the general direction of the archway that was still partially visible behind the light spring foliage. “Other than that, when have any of us ever done anything useful with our astral projection? This is still a physical place, right? We don’t have any of our physical senses available to us when we astral project, and I get extremely disoriented trying to navigate the mortal plane with clairvoyance alone.”
“It is a physical place, but one saturated with astral energy and full of occultists and occult artifacts. It will be extremely illuminated to our clairvoyance,” I assured her. “Elam will also be there to guide us. As a ghost, he’s much more practiced at traversing the mortal plane in an astral form.”
Charlotte folded her arms over her chest and turned to look at Elam, who was leaning up against the willow tree as he waited for us.
“I don’t suppose you could go and scout the place out for us ahead of time?” she asked.
“I can’t go too far from Samantha, and definitely not across planes,” he said with a shake of his head. “But Eve’s right. Your astral bodies will be in no danger, and you can return here in an instant whenever you want.”
“But what about Emrys? Didn’t that book Leon gave you say that he’s some sort of soul-flayer?” Charlotte asked me.
“It did,” I admitted. “Keep in mind though, that book was written by his enemies. I want to hear his side of things before this conflict of theirs spirals out of control.”
“Any update from Chamberlin about that?” Elam asked.
“Yeah, he said that after he failed to purify the Sigil Sand, Ivy’s onboard with negotiating some kind of truce with Emrys,” I replied. “The Grand Adderman’s still reticent, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s running out of options. I need to find out if Emrys will agree to peace talks.”
“Um, I get that, but I’m still kind of hung up on him potentially flaying our souls,” Charlotte reiterated.
“If Emrys and the Ophion Occult Order go to all-out war, there’ll be a lot of collateral damage and innocent souls caught in the crossfire,” Genevieve told her, gently grabbing hold of her and looking her straight in the eye. “Samantha, Elam, and I are doing this because if there’s any chance we can put an end to this before it starts, then it’s our responsibility to try. You don’t have to come with us, Lottie, but you’re still a member of our coven. Samantha and I would both feel a lot better with you there to help us.”
“Arghhh! All right, fine! I’ll come with you,” Charlotte gave in, plopping her butt down on the edge of the meditation circle. “If we’re holding hands, that will help keep our astral bodies together too, right?”
“I believe it should, yes,” I smiled at her, sitting down and reaching out for her hand.
Genevieve lit the incense and her bong filled with the entheogenic Delphi Dream, before sitting down to join us. She took a hit from the bong before passing it to me, and then to Charlotte before setting it aside out of the circle.
“Start with taking a deep breath, completely filling the lungs, and holding it for five heartbeats,” she guided us as she took hold of each of our hands. “Exhale completely, and wait five more heartbeats before breathing in again. Eyes closed, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Focus on the astral energies flowing through you with each breath, gently aligning each chakra until those energies are enough to lift you up and out of your body.”
In unison with one another, the three of us slowly breathed in and out, ignoring the material world around us and focusing upon the task at hand. Eve was first, as usual, and because we were all holding hands, Charlotte and I felt her eagerly tugging us up to speed us along.
I opened my eyes, and beheld the dull and muted Physical Plane through my clairvoyance, everything outshined by the radiant forms of my coven mates. I noted that Genevieve had eschewed her normal skyclad form when astral projecting and instead wore a cloak like Charlotte and I.
“Are you worried this place might have a no shirt, no shoes, no souls, no service policy?” I teased her.
“I just don’t want to risk a confrontation over it. I realize how important this is,” she answered. “Though I’m not actually wearing shoes, now that you mention it.”
“Christ, look at the sigil Samantha drew!” Charlotte said, pointing down at the meditation circle beneath us. The sigil wasn’t just glowing but flowing as well, churning the Aether around it in a misty, spectral vortex. “It’s an astral portal, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah. It’s not stable, though. Good for one trip only,” Genevieve said with a delighted smile. “And Lottie, since we’re Neopagan Witches, try not to swear by Christ, okay?”
“Jesus!” she swore, both in defiance and in genuine annoyance.
“Elam! Elam, come join the circle! I don’t want to take any chances of severing our bond,” I instructed, letting go of Charlotte’s hand and waving him in between us.
Faithful Familiar that he was, he obeyed without hesitation. Despite my concerns, I think that he probably could have stayed behind if he had wanted. The fact that he was willing to follow me to an unknown otherworld without complaint really made me appreciate how devoted he was to me.
“We step in together on the count of three, got it?” I instructed, each of them nodding clearly in response. “One. Two. Three!”
We all extended our right feet into the vortex together, and the instant we did we were swept away, falling out of our own world and tumbling between the cracks of countless others. They weren’t real, I don’t think. At least, not as real as our world. They were potential realities, or realities that could have been once but now can never be, or fantasies that are so persistent in the minds of real people that in some sense or another, they become real themselves. I only saw glimmers of them, glimmers in nebulas made of primeval chaos and uttermost void.
It was outside of time, that place we travelled through, or at least we had no sense of it there. Our souls were haphazardly spat out upon a surreal landscape of earth, sea, and fire. Hilly plains of volcanic ash, incandescent calderas of lava and bubbling hot springs all intermeshed in a chaotic mosaic that didn’t seem to abide by any laws of geology or geography that I was familiar with. A strong but slow wind pushed fractal formations of dark silver clouds through a pale silver sky, illuminated by a single white orb which could have been either a bright moon or a faint sun.
While our spectral feet left no trace upon the ash we now stood upon, our presence nonetheless elicited a response from some of the local fauna. We were just able to catch a glimpse of some kind of shimmering scarabs burrowing themselves into the ash to escape the four otherworldly ghosts that had invaded their territory.
“Holy shit,” Charlotte murmured as we all gazed out upon the strange world we had found ourselves on. “This really isn’t on the Astral Plane. This is a real planet. This a real, alien planet! This is unbelievable!”
Genevieve glided over to one of the bubbling pools and peered into it, looking for any more signs of life.
“There’s some kind of bluish-grey algae growing on the rocks down there, and I think I can make out some small arthropods too. This planet’s alive!” she announced with glee, smiling and looking up at the alien sky.
Conjuring an astral approximation of my staff, I plunged it into a small mound of ash beside me. I watched curiously as the scarabs shot out in all directions, moving too quickly for me to get a good look at them, before scurrying back into the surrounding ash.
“These bugs can sense our presence,” I remarked. “How and why would clairvoyance evolve in insects on this world, and why would their first instinct be to flee?”
“Samantha!” Elam called out. “I think I found the Flea Market.”
We all gathered around him and looked where he was pointing. On a distant dune, we beheld the moulted carapace of a colossal insect, gleaming a brilliant, lustrous gold in the broken white light.
“That’s impossible!” Charlotte claimed. “That thing must be hundreds of meters long! No insect, no animal period could ever get that big on the Physical Plane!”
“It could be the Incarnation of some kind of Titan,” Genevieve suggested. “But… it’s dead. I can tell that even from here. It’s dead. It’s the corpse of a dead god, and now it’s being used as a swap meet with a punny name. Either whatever killed it just abandoned it, or…”
“Or is running the place,” I finished for her. “Well, we should see if we can find Emrys.”
In an instant, the world moved around us until we were at the entrance to the Flea Market. The colossal carapace was hollow inside, of course, and had been filled with a bustling city that looked like it had been created in the most ad hoc manner possible. There wasn’t a single straight street to be seen, and they converged with one another at random intervals. Stalls and buildings varied wildly in both design and materials, all imported from a plethora of different cultures across the planes.
Enormous shards of luminous glass levitated above the throng like a thousand Swords of Damocles, any or all of them seeming capable of succumbing to gravity at any moment. In the very center of the moulted husk dangled a great spiralling chrysalis or hive woven of iridescent silk, its function not being immediately apparent to me.
There must have been thousands of people there, and hundreds of merchants hawking their wares. Most of those who looked human still seemed a little off, like they were members of ethnicities that didn’t exist in our world. Some of the beings were near-human in appearance, many seemingly some kind of Fey or Seelie folk. There was even a small handful of people that weren’t remotely human at all.
The only thing they all had in common was that none were native to this world.
“Most of these people are here in person, aren’t they?” Charlotte asked.
“It would’ve been quite a feat for them to have built all of this while astral projecting,” Genevieve agreed.
“But if this place isn’t connected to the Cuniculi, then how did they get here?” Charlotte asked. “We’re on another planet, maybe even in another dimension. If getting here is beyond the Ooo’s abilities, then what sort of ungodly reality benders decided to turn it into a Flea Market?”
“Ladies, gentlemen, and any beings either too ancient and alien or too modern and alienated to settle on one or the other, come bear witness to one of the most astounding and atrocious abominations on this or any other world!” a fast-paced male voice rang out over the din of the crowd.
We turned to see a short, skinny, old-timey sort of carnival barker standing on a literal soap box, placed next to a large object draped in a black tarp.
“For the paltry price of a single three-headed coin, you can peer beneath the veil and behold with your own unbelieving eyes the mangled and mutilated monstrosity that lurks beneath!” the carnival barker continued. “But I must warn you, it is not possible to truly understand what dwells underneath without seeing it first! I cannot guarantee that you will still retain your sanity or will to live after witnessing the proverbial Mountains of Madness, for this low creature is truly like no other and serves only as a grim testament to the cruel sadism of the Lord Above! Anyone plagued by even the faintest lingering doubt as to their spiritual fortitude should not dare to even contemplate what might lie before me! But, for those brave, noble few who are truly dauntless of heart and incorrigible of spirit, I am proud to share with you this rare, unfathomable, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness sublime –”
The carnival barker was interrupted by a man yanking the sheet off the object beside him, revealing it to be a mirror.
“Whelp, that was a hell of an Im14andthisisdeep post, eh?” Charlotte mused.
Genevieve and I, however, were far too stunned to be amused; not by the mirror, but by the man who had unveiled it.
“It’s him, Lottie. That’s Emrys,” Genevieve whispered.
We had only seen him briefly once before, more than two-and-a-half years ago, but he was far from what anyone would call forgettable. He was tall and gaunt, with literal blue blood flowing beneath translucent skin. His long, receding hair and regal beard were pitch black, and dark miasma wafted from his eyes, nose, and mouth. He was dressed in dark sable robes with three overlapping Ouroboros’s tattooed on his forehead, with a pair of ophidian pupils lying in the spaces between them.
What stood out the most to us were the six silver Ouroboros chains bound around his wrists, ankles, waist, and neck. These were the chains the Ophion Occult Order had made to limit the power of his physical avatar, and it seemed he had not yet found a way to free himself from them.
“Are you still here?” Emrys asked in exasperation, tossing the veil back at the carnival barker in disdain.
“…Possibly,” the strange man replied evasively. “But not definitively, for purely legalistic reasons.”
“I believe Mathom-meister was quite clear when he said that your rather pitiful chicanery wasn’t welcomed here,” Emrys reminded him.
“And who is he to judge chicanery from cutthroat, capitalistic competition? Should not the Flea Market be a free market?” the charlatan demanded. “And while we’re on the topic of commerce, I don’t suppose you have enough three-headed coins to pay for all the poor souls you have so discourteously exposed to my exhibit against their will? I’d hate to have to start shaking people down to get my due.”
“Hard to believe your own circus threw you out,” Emrys said with a sardonic eye roll as he tossed him a small medallion. “You get one coin. Take it and get out of my sight.”
The charlatan flipped the coin in the air thrice, presumably to confirm it actually had three heads. Satisfied with its impossible dimensions, he shoved it into his pocket.
“It will cover the trolley ride home, at least,” he acquiesced, stepping off his soap box and turning to face his looking glass. “A shame though you can’t see the genius in my little avant-garde performance piece here, Emmy. Even I know that the monster in the mirror is often the hardest to recognize.”
As the man reached to pick up his mirror, his reflection’s arms shot through the glass and grabbed him by the wrists, pulling him in. Emrys immediately tried to chase after him, but bounced off the glass as if there was nothing supernatural about it at all.
“Bastard!” he cursed under his breath, before turning towards us and giving us a small apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you had to see that rather pathetic display. Unfortunately, the few meeting places I know of that are relatively safe from any Ophionic incursion also attract their fair share of other annoying miscreants.”
“If it didn’t attract a little bit of everything, it wouldn’t be a Flea Market, would it?” I asked rhetorically. “Thank you, Emrys, for inviting us. I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”
“And thank you for accepting. Samantha, Genevieve, it’s a pleasure to see you again, and a relief that you have not fallen under the auspices of the Ophion Occult Order,” he said with a gentle bow. “Elam, I remember you as well. Valiant but not reckless, you remained atop Pendragon Hill during my battle with the Darlings until your mistress was well out of harm’s way, and then you got the hell out of dodge yourself. Samantha couldn’t hope for a better Familiar. And Charlotte, any Witch that Samantha deemed worthy to induct into her coven is obviously someone whose acquaintance I am pleased to make. Welcome, all of you, to Mathom-meister’s Flea Market!”
“So this is where you’ve been hiding out the past two years?” Genevieve asked.
“Oh no. Far too Cosmopolitan for my tastes,” Emrys replied. “No, this is just a friendly place to meet those I consider friends – or potential friends, at least. I’d offer to show you around, but I know it’s difficult for you to astral travel for prolonged periods. Come with me to Mathom-meister’s house where we can talk freely, and we’ll discuss the situation with the Order.”
I gave him a small, single nod in response, and gestured with my staff that he should lead the way. He responded by pointing upwards, then vanished into his shadow form. When we looked up, we saw him waving at us from a balcony atop the great silken chrysalis.
We exchanged hesitant glances with one another, but ultimately followed him into the strange structure, moving from the ground to the balcony in an instant by will alone.
“How would an incarnate being get up here if they couldn’t fly or teleport?” Charlotte asked as she peered over the balcony’s teetering edge.
As though answering a summons, a humanoid creature apparated beside her in a flash of dark vapours. The hunched-back entity stood over six-and-a-half feet tall, and was clad in golden-brown erudite robes. Its squid-like skin was of a similar colour, and its entire face was a single gaping orifice that held a wispy, glowing orb in the center of its skull which I immediately recognized as its soul. A pair of long, fanged tentacles lined with pores and tendrils hung down from its head like a long, forked beard, and the seven digits shared by its two hands all bore wicked-looking talons, as did its two-toed, digitigrade feet.
“Not fly or teleport? What sort of pedestrian house guests do you think I entertain here?” the being asked wryly, its voice seeming to come from nowhere in particular.
Charlotte instinctively backed away from the creature and into the protective fold of our coven, but Emrys was quick to hold up his hand to plead for calm.
“Please, there’s no need for alarm. This is our host, Mathom-meister. He’s the only reason any of this is here in the first place,” Emrys informed us. “A year or two ago a companion of his unfortunately became one of the Darling Twin’s victims, and when he heard of my vendetta with them, he tracked me down; which is no small feat, I assure you.”
“It is for us. My people are a race of Planeswalkers. Traversing the many worlds of Creation is second nature to us,” Mathom-meister explained.
“I’ve… I’ve heard of your people, I think,” I said, softly and unsurely. “A friend of mine had an encounter with an artifact that gave her a vision of a race of strange and powerful sorcerers slaying their own god. I take it you’re the ones who slayed this Scarab Titan as well? That’s, that’s…”
“Horrifying, yes. That’s the idea,” he nodded. “You have nothing to worry about, young Witch. My people have no special interest in your world. This is purely personal. My friend is dead, and I want his murderers brought to justice; a goal which Emrys and I happen to have in common.”
“Feel free to share this information with the Ophion Occult Order, Samantha,” Emrys said. “I’d very much like for the Darling Twins to know what’s hunting them. Mathom-meister, please excuse me while I take my guests inside. We do have pressing business to discuss and their time is limited.”
The squid-cyclopes bowed gracefully, and my coven and I quickly scurried after Emrys as he led us inside through a towering hallway and into a large chamber that had been appointed as a living space.
I had thought that Emrys would want to speak with us alone, which was why I was surprised to see a young woman sitting cross-legged on a spongey yet chitinous object that I will for the sake of my sanity call a bean bag chair. Like Emrys, she was pale and blue-blooded, her choppy hair as black as coal. She wore a black robe and heavy black eyeliner, but these could not conceal the fact that she too had thin wisps of miasma emanating from her eyes.
“Is that your… daughter?” Charlotte asked, as baffled by her presence as any of us. The woman smiled warmly at the question.
“In a way. I was dead, and Emrys gave me new life. Now a part of the Outer Primordial Darkness he represents lives in me too,” she said serenely.
Hovering above her left palm were three small bluish-green orbs, lazily going around in a circle. They were translucent and held something inside them that I couldn’t make out, but the orbs themselves appeared to be melting and solidifying by the woman’s will.
“You’re Petra, aren’t you?” I asked as I cautiously approached her. “Chamberlin had mentioned that Emrys had taken an acolyte. I’m Samantha, and this is Genevieve, Elam, and Charlotte.”
“I know. The whole reason we’re here is to speak with you,” she nodded.
“The Ophion Occult Order calls me a soul-flayer, and I’m sure you were all wondering exactly what that meant before you came here,” Emrys said, standing proudly behind his acolyte. “Well, this is it. The Darkness Beyond is now a part of her, and a part of her now lives within the Darkness Beyond. She is not unchanged from what she was before, but neither has what she was been lost.”
“My interpretation of the term ‘soul-flaying’ was the complete removal of a person’s consciousness from their astral and physical bodies to be subsumed by your Darkness,” I countered. “They told me that what you’ve done with Petra here is just the limit of your power while you’re bound in their chains. Are you telling me that if your chains were broken, you wouldn’t be able to do any worse than this?”
“On my physical avatar? No. So long as my astral form remains chained and bound with the World Serpent, I cannot cleave a conscious mind from its astral substrate,” Emrys assured me.
“But that is your ultimate goal, isn’t it? Breaking the chains the Ophion Occult Order put on you is just a stepping stone to breaking the ones the gods bound you with?” Genevieve asked. “You’ve allied yourself with a literal god slayer. Do you expect us to believe that his people’s abilities aren’t something you intend to put to your own ends?”
“I don’t have an ultimate goal so much as I have a fundamental principle of opposing tyranny,” he claimed. “When I was a mere man, thousands of years ago, I was a tyrant. I believed that might made right so unquestionably that when my might began to fail me, the only thing I could think to do was to try everything in my power to restore it. This quest eventually led to me becoming one with the Darkness Beyond, which gave me not only the might I coveted but the wisdom I didn’t know I needed. It gave me perspective. It made me stronger than any human alive at that point but still let me realize how insignificant I was. It was humbling, and enlightening, and filled me both with remorse over my past actions and an impetus to use my newfound gifts to rectify them. I tried to overthrow the gods themselves which, in hindsight, was overly ambitious. I not only failed but had my soul devoured by the World Serpent, where it still resides to this day.
“I am not eager to bring the wrath of the gods down upon me once again. No, for now, I will be content to end the tyranny of the Ophion Occult Order. This is the message I’d like you to relay to them. If the Grand Adderman agrees to unbind my chains and step down from his post, I will spare his life. If he declines, I want the rest of the Order to know that I will show mercy to any who sides with me over him. I am willing to allow the Order to exist so long as it agrees to become more decentralized, democratic, and accountable. They will have to forfeit certain artifacts and individuals in their possession over to me, chief among them the Darling Twins, but I am willing to negotiate. If they aren’t, then I will overthrow the Grand Adderman by whatever means necessary and see the Order scattered to the four winds. It is entirely up to them whether or not the conflict between us escalates to full-on war. Have I made myself clear, Samantha?”
“I think so,” I said as I pensively considered everything he had said. “Why should they trust you to keep your word once your chains are broken? For that matter, why should we?”
He took a moment to consider his response, eyeing me over as though he was trying to divine something that would win over my trust.
“Samantha, you made a pact with Persephone to get your Spirit Familiar there; one where she swore by the River Styx. Is that correct?” he asked.
“It is,” I nodded.
“And in the years since, has Persephone ever broken that pact she swore to?” he asked.
“No, she hasn’t,” I replied.
“I may not be an Old God, but so long as my astral form remains bound by their chains, they have power over me,” he said. “Samantha Sumner, Hedge Witch of Harrowick Woods, I swear on the River Styx that I have spoken no lies to you today. I swear by the River Styx that I will abide by any Covenant that I and the Ophion Occult Order agree to in good faith and fair dealing that they do not break first. I swear by the River Styx that when my chains are broken, I will give you no cause to fear me or regret your trust in me.”
I gave a questioning glance to Genevieve, and then Elam, both of whom nodded in the affirmative.
“All right. An oath sworn on the River Styx is good enough for me. I’ll deliver your terms to Seneca Chamberlin,” I agreed. “I’m very grateful for the trust and respect you’ve shown for me and my coven, Emrys, though I can’t say I quite understand it. Out of all the guests that were there on the Hallow’s Eve you were summoned, why did Evie and I stand out to you?”
“The Ophion Occult Order deemed you worthy of inclusion in their cult, an offer you rejected on principle. You cheated Persephone, but you did it not to gain immortality for yourself but to save your friend from hell. You came here, thinking I could very well tear your souls asunder, but did so because you believed it was your duty to prevent needless suffering,” Emrys answered. “You are extraordinary in your craft, courage, and conscience, the latter of which especially stood out among the degenerates at that party. I do apologize if I frightened you at that event. I was a bit… irritable, given the circumstances. I’m glad we were able to meet again under more pleasant conditions.”
“So am I, Emrys,” I nodded. “I’m not sure exactly what this means or how relevant it is, but Seneca wanted me to tell you that he’s able to offer you the Dream Demon Red Ruck as a sacrifice.”
“Pffft. Tell him it’s hardly a sacrifice if I’m getting rid of a boogie man for him,” he scoffed. “In fact, now that you mention it, Ruck’s one egregore that might be of more use to me alive.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but we were suddenly interrupted by the rapid pounding of a gong somewhere down below. It seemed to be an alarm of some kind, as we could hear the panicked shouting and frantic racing of people either battening down or forsaking the Flea Market altogether.
Mathom-meister apparated into the middle of the room, his facial tentacles reflexively raised in a defensive position.
“Were you outside the market?” he demanded of us.
“The portal we came through deposited us a few miles outside of the market, yes,” I admitted.
“Damn,” Emrys cursed softly, though he sounded more frustrated than angry. “Meister, it’s not their fault. I knew they weren’t experienced Planeswalkers, I could have – ”
“It doesn’t matter!” Mathom-meister interjected. “They need to leave, now!”
“Why, what’s going on?” Genevieve demanded.
“The scarabs are swarming,” Petra explained. “Don’t feel bad; it happens often enough that they’re prepared for it.”
I wanted to press for more details, but I could hear the humming of a vast winged swarm steadily encroaching upon us.
“Don’t worry. Once you leave the swarm will disperse… eventually,” Emrys told us. “We’ve said all that need be said for now. Return home, and I’ll reach out to you again shortly, Samantha.”
Again, I wanted to object, but the swarm outside was growing louder and louder, and it occurred to me that we might not be completely safe from a biblical swarm of insects that could not only sense but evidently sought out souls.
This occurred to Charlotte as well, as she was the first of us to vanish and awaken back in her body. We could all feel the weight of her reembodied soul tugging on us to return with her. Genevieve immediately grabbed hold of my right hand and Elam my left, both of them refusing to leave before I did.
I spared one final glance at Emrys, lamenting that we couldn’t have had more time.
“I’ll relay everything you said to the Order. I’ll make sure they know you’re willing to negotiate a truce,” I vowed.
He gave me a gracious nod, and just as we heard the swarm start to pelt the exterior of the market, I forced my physical eyes open and was back in my body, still safely under a willow tree in my cemetery.
I immediately looked beside me to Genevieve, and saw that she was awake as well, and then around me for Elam, who seemed to be suffering a bit of spectral whiplash from being pulled back with me so suddenly, but was otherwise all right. Sighing with relief, I turned lastly to Charlotte, and saw that she was looking down at the mediation circle in dreaded horror.
Following her gaze, I saw that the Undying Rose was gone – spent, perhaps, in exchange for our passage – and in its place was the inert, and hopefully dead, body of one of the shimmering scarabs.

Content Warning(s): fictional child death, exclusion?
First things first, while this is not the worst horror story I've heard by far, this still was a bit of a sucky experience for me and my friend to have as our first time interacting with DnD. I hold no animosity toward anyone in this story, as we were all young and this was years ago, but rather I want to share this story to get it off my chest.
The characters:
-Me, playing a beast-master ranger with a dire wolf animal companion, first time playing Dnd
-Wizard, playing a wizard as you would guess, first time playing dnd (they/them)
-Barbarian, sibling of DM and Rogue, invited Me and Wizard to play and introduced us to the idea of DnD as a whole (they/she)
-Rogue, sibling of DM and Barbarian, "problem" in the story along with DM (he/him)
and finally
-DM, oldest sibling of Barbarian and Rogue, also is a bit of an issue in the story (they/them)
Okay so now for the story:
Barbarian, Wizard, and I were all really close friends in middle school, and one day Barbarian brought up that their siblings play Dungeons and Dragons. Wizard and I, not knowing anything about the game, were immediately super interested, and eventually Barbarian invited us over to play dnd with their family. During the time leading up to the session, both Wizard and I were super excited and we both tried to learn about the different classes and races as best we could. Both Wizard and I ended up with super basic practically self-insert characters, but we were both super happy with what we had created. The day of the session arrived and both Wizard and I were stoked to play finally, but once again, we knew literally nothing about the game.
Right off the bat, our party was placed in a relatively open area. If I’m honest I don’t remember why we were just dropped in the open, but as we were trying to figure out what to do, (probably within the first ten or so minutes of the game) Wizard walked forward into a trap that ~none~ of the party had seen and was immediately paralyzed.
Obviously, Wizard and I were very caught off guard by this, and when we asked DM what was going on they responded by saying that we “should have done a perception check”. Wizard and I were confused, as we had literally no idea what a perception check was at the time or how we were supposed to make one but both of us just accepted that we made a mistake and tried to move on. Wizard was eventually released from their paralysis and the game continued.
Eventually, the party came to a town and started to wander towards the nearest tavern to try and figure out what our quest was going to be for the session. Immediately as we walk into the city, an orphan kid (described to be no more than 5 or 6) is said to walk up to my character (and specifically only my character). Now, something about me personally is that I have a giant soft spot for children and animals, and almost every character I play shares this sensitivity. As this was my first dnd character, I shared practically every trait with my dnd character and as such I immediately felt super attached to this little kid. The kid begged for some food and without hesitation I had my character pull out her rations and hand over a portion to the kid. Suddenly, my character was ~flooded~ with a bunch of orphaned kids, all begging for food. As this happened, I turned and asked DM if we were going to a place where we could get more food and if I had enough rations between my character and her dire wolf to be able to feed all of the kids who showed up. DM said that we were going to a place where we could get food and that I did not have enough food for all of the kids, but that if everyone in the party gave up the rest of their rations that we could feed all of the kids.
I immediately turned to the party and started to ask for everyone to give up their rations and started to try and explain that we could buy more food but I was cut off by Rogue. Rogue had been getting irritated throughout this whole interaction, but apparently, this was the last straw as he narrated his character walking over to one of the children and pulling out a dagger. He said (both in-game and out-of-game) that he was going to count down from 10 and if I hadn’t left by then that he was going to kill the kid.
I immediately panicked, as I mentioned before, I have a massive soft spot for children and I was terrified that any of these fictional kids would get hurt so I tried to explain my plan to Rogue and negotiate with the DM to try and make it to where I could have my character feed all of the kids all while Rogue counted down. I remember getting physically upset as the countdown was happening, both at the prospect that Rogue would follow through with his threat and that I felt like no one was listening to me. Despite my efforts to persuade or negotiate my way into a better solution, Rogue reached the end of his countdown and turned to DM saying that he wanted to stab the kid in front of him. DM didn’t even make Rogue roll and said that Rogue killed the kid and all of the orphans scattered. I was absolutely livid at this, and I believe at this point I started to tear up and was on the verge of crying. I was visibly upset at this turn of events and had my character start to yell at Rogue. Admittedly, I probably got too upset over the turn of events at this point, but don’t worry, it gets worse.
While the exact details on how the next event happened are admittedly very fuzzy on my part (since this story was years ago) the important part is that the party ended up kidnapped and taken down into the sewers under the city. We were taken to have an audience with the leader of a secret crime syndicate that was apparently stationed in the city and quickly learned that the child of this Crime Boss was the “orphan” that Rogue had stabbed. Immediately the Crime Boss (referred to as CB for the rest of the story) asked the entire party who was responsible for killing the child. I (being admittedly still angry out of game) had my character rat out Rogue and start to explain the whole situation, only to be interrupted by Rouge saying that I had a choice of not killing the kid if I had just given up on feeding all the children. I then pointed out that I was just trying to feed all of the kids and that if everyone had just given up some of their rations we could have fed all of the children and then just bought more rations. CB then interrupted the argument and said that he had a decision about who was responsible. I admittedly was a little too proud at this moment, and I genuinely thought that Rogue was going to be punished for killing the kid. Much to my surprise, however, CB had all of the guards grab my character and tie her up in a magical rope that no one could break.
I was absolutely stunned and didn’t understand why I was being punished as DM explained that CB appreciated Rogue for killing the kid because CB couldn’t have a “weak” kid. DM also explained that my character was being punished for being “weak” and that CB was actually supposed to be the final boss of the one-shot and that we skipped straight to him through killing his kid. Back in the game, CB explained that the party could have my character back only after they did three things for him and that every hour the ropes around my character would tighten, killing my character in 24 hours if the tasks were not completed. Note, once again, this was my first ever time playing dnd and I was no older than 12 or 13 at the time. I was incredibly upset but at the time I didn’t say anything because I just thought that “this is how dnd goes” and I thought I was just being a sore loser, but now looking back I know I should have let the DM know that I was feeling upset.
Anyway, the first task given to the party was a simple riddle, specifically the one with the seed, the chicken, and the fox, where you have to get all across a gorge with various rules about what can and cannot be left alone together. I immediately spoke up because I already knew this riddle and knew how to solve it. I had my character ask CB if she was allowed to solve it. CB reluctantly agreed and I had my character explain the solution. CB said my solution was correct and then said that the other two tasks had to be performed by the party with no input from my character. I was once again upset that I couldn’t participate but convinced DM to let me control my dire wolf instead of my character.
Honestly, I don’t remember what the last two tasks were, but I do remember that my dire wolf was absolutely no help on the tasks and on top of that was completely ignored by the party members whenever I did try to help, so I was left doing literally nothing while the party was having fun solving the tasks. I started to get more and more frustrated as time went on as I really wanted to participate but knew I couldn’t do anything. Finally, the party completed both tasks with one in-game hour left before my character would die. I was really anxious at this point for the party to get back to see CB so that my character would be released, but relieved that the party had a whole hour to spare. Relieved until the NPC that was with the party suggested that the party stop for a leisurely brunch before going to get my character, that is. I was honestly on the verge of tears, frustrated, as the party narrated going inside a tavern for a leisurely brunch while my character was minutes from dying. The whole party was having fun and joking while I tried to get the party to go and save my character, but all my attempts to ask the party members out-of-game to help was met with “Oh we have plenty of time, it’ll be fine”. Finally, I got fed up and had my dire wolf burst inside the tavern (it was made to wait outside) and physically try to drag the party members outside. My dire wolf was just kicked out again and so I said that my dire would just bark and howl non-stop until the party left to go save my character. A bit annoyed, the DM relented and said that the NPC cut the brunch short and the party headed back to see CB, freeing my character only minutes before she would have died. After that, the session was practically over. I can’t imagine we played for more than half an hour after that, but despite it all, I continued to play DnD and even played with the same group a second time where I actually was able to play and help the party through things.
As I said at the beginning, I don’t think this story is the worst horror story that I’ve heard, but it definitely was a frustrating experience, especially for my first-ever dnd game. Despite it though, I’ve been playing dnd for years now and have been running my own games for about 5 years now, so at the very least I’m glad that I was able to get through this experience without a bad taste towards dnd as a whole.
TLDR; My character was taken out of commission for a majority of my first-ever dnd session all because I wanted to feed children rations.
Note: I was talking to Wizard about the whole situation right before posting this and they wanted to add a few details.
First off, Wizard said that they were teasing DM before the game, and while they didn’t think that they were being annoying, that teasing may have been the reason for their character getting immediately paralyzed (or at the very least it felt like retaliation to Wizard).
Second, not only did Wizard and I have no information on dnd, Wizard reminded me that the mechanics of the game were not explained to us at all before we started playing and both DM and Rogue would get upset at Wizard and I when we didn’t know how our characters worked.
Also, there was some issue before the game started about how my beast master ranger couldn’t have an animal companion because “only druids could have animal companions”.
Finally, Wizard mentioned that they think that DM and Rogue were hostile toward Wizard and I because they were significantly older than us and they were Barbarian’s older siblings. It is very possible that Barbarian kinda forced DM and Rogue to teach us how to play and that they were upset about it and so made their goal to mess with us. While this obviously doesn’t excuse the fact that they were unfair towards us, it might be a bit more of an explanation.
But yeah, thanks for reading I guess?

“I’m sorry; we’re going to astral travel to a flea market?” Charlotte asked incredulously as she watched Genevieve and I set up a meditation circle under the shade of a towering old willow tree in my cemetery. “What if we want to buy something? How will we bring it back?”
“We’re not going there to shop, Lottie. Samantha’s finally had a vision about Emrys,” Genevieve explained.
The Veil between the Physical and Astral Planes is exceptionally weak in my cemetery, especially at night and on hallowed days. When I sleep there, my subconscious mind is highly receptive to all manner of revelations from the Spirit World. When I saw a Blood Moon rise on the night of May fifth, the same night as a penumbral eclipse, I knew that my dreams would be prophetic.
“I had a dream about him last Friday,” I expounded. “He’s at some sort of otherworldly marketplace, one that’s not connected to the Crypto Chthonic Cuniculi, so it’s mostly inaccessible to the Ophion Occult Order. In my dream, Emrys invited us to come and speak with him while we were lucid. He drew a sigil for me, the same one I’ve drawn in the middle of the mediation circle. He said that all I’d have to do is toss an Undying Rose – the earthly effigy of the rose Persephone used to steal a drop of his blood – into the sigil and it will become an astral portal to where he is.”
I held up the deep purple rose that I had cut from its bush earlier that day. I don’t know for certain where the roses came from, but my best guess is that they were made by the same Occultist who hallowed my cemetery to Persephone; Artaxerxes Crow. They have some connection to Emrys as well, since the only other time I saw someone else use one was when his avatar was summoned into the Physical Plane on Halloween 2020.
Knowing that Emrys wouldn’t dare to set foot in a place that was sacred to the Goddess who was ultimately responsible for his cosmic defeat, I gently tossed the rose into the middle of the sigil.
“He invited all of us?” Charlotte asked with an incredulous raising of her eyebrow.
“He said me and my coven. If he had just meant me or me and Genevieve he would have said that,” I replied. “You and Elam are coming too. I want as many eyes on this place as possible so that we don’t miss anything. We may not get an opportunity like this again.”
“And this is safe? Visiting some random flea market between worlds?” Charlotte asked.
“Samantha and I have visited the Underworld and come back no problem,” Genevieve reminded her. “So long as we’re bound to our bodies and Elam is bound to Samantha, we can come back anytime. Don’t worry; this is going to be a blast! Adventures like these are the best part of being a Witch.”
“The only reason you were able to go to the Underworld is because Samantha’s cemetery came with an astral portal in the back,” Charlotte countered, gesticulating in the general direction of the archway that was still partially visible behind the light spring foliage. “Other than that, when have any of us ever done anything useful with our astral projection? This is still a physical place, right? We don’t have any of our physical senses available to us when we astral project, and I get extremely disoriented trying to navigate the mortal plane with clairvoyance alone.”
“It is a physical place, but one saturated with astral energy and full of occultists and occult artifacts. It will be extremely illuminated to our clairvoyance,” I assured her. “Elam will also be there to guide us. As a ghost, he’s much more practiced at traversing the mortal plane in an astral form.”
Charlotte folded her arms over her chest and turned to look at Elam, who was leaning up against the willow tree as he waited for us.
“I don’t suppose you could go and scout the place out for us ahead of time?” she asked.
“I can’t go too far from Samantha, and definitely not across planes,” he said with a shake of his head. “But Eve’s right. Your astral bodies will be in no danger, and you can return here in an instant whenever you want.”
“But what about Emrys? Didn’t that book Leon gave you say that he’s some sort of soul-flayer?” Charlotte asked me.
“It did,” I admitted. “Keep in mind though, that book was written by his enemies. I want to hear his side of things before this conflict of theirs spirals out of control.”
“Any update from Chamberlin about that?” Elam asked.
“Yeah, he said that after he failed to purify the Sigil Sand, Ivy’s onboard with negotiating some kind of truce with Emrys,” I replied. “The Grand Adderman’s still reticent, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s running out of options. I need to find out if Emrys will agree to peace talks.”
“Um, I get that, but I’m still kind of hung up on him potentially flaying our souls,” Charlotte reiterated.
“If Emrys and the Ophion Occult Order go to all-out war, there’ll be a lot of collateral damage and innocent souls caught in the crossfire,” Genevieve told her, gently grabbing hold of her and looking her straight in the eye. “Samantha, Elam, and I are doing this because if there’s any chance we can put an end to this before it starts, then it’s our responsibility to try. You don’t have to come with us, Lottie, but you’re still a member of our coven. Samantha and I would both feel a lot better with you there to help us.”
“Arghhh! All right, fine! I’ll come with you,” Charlotte gave in, plopping her butt down on the edge of the meditation circle. “If we’re holding hands, that will help keep our astral bodies together too, right?”
“I believe it should, yes,” I smiled at her, sitting down and reaching out for her hand.
Genevieve lit the incense and her bong filled with the entheogenic Delphi Dream, before sitting down to join us. She took a hit from the bong before passing it to me, and then to Charlotte before setting it aside out of the circle.
“Start with taking a deep breath, completely filling the lungs, and holding it for five heartbeats,” she guided us as she took hold of each of our hands. “Exhale completely, and wait five more heartbeats before breathing in again. Eyes closed, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Focus on the astral energies flowing through you with each breath, gently aligning each chakra until those energies are enough to lift you up and out of your body.”
In unison with one another, the three of us slowly breathed in and out, ignoring the material world around us and focusing upon the task at hand. Eve was first, as usual, and because we were all holding hands, Charlotte and I felt her eagerly tugging us up to speed us along.
I opened my eyes, and beheld the dull and muted Physical Plane through my clairvoyance, everything outshined by the radiant forms of my coven mates. I noted that Genevieve had eschewed her normal skyclad form when astral projecting and instead wore a cloak like Charlotte and I.
“Are you worried this place might have a no shirt, no shoes, no souls, no service policy?” I teased her.
“I just don’t want to risk a confrontation over it. I realize how important this is,” she answered. “Though I’m not actually wearing shoes, now that you mention it.”
“Christ, look at the sigil Samantha drew!” Charlotte said, pointing down at the meditation circle beneath us. The sigil wasn’t just glowing but flowing as well, churning the Aether around it in a misty, spectral vortex. “It’s an astral portal, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah. It’s not stable, though. Good for one trip only,” Genevieve said with a delighted smile. “And Lottie, since we’re Neopagan Witches, try not to swear by Christ, okay?”
“Jesus!” she swore, both in defiance and in genuine annoyance.
“Elam! Elam, come join the circle! I don’t want to take any chances of severing our bond,” I instructed, letting go of Charlotte’s hand and waving him in between us.
Faithful Familiar that he was, he obeyed without hesitation. Despite my concerns, I think that he probably could have stayed behind if he had wanted. The fact that he was willing to follow me to an unknown otherworld without complaint really made me appreciate how devoted he was to me.
“We step in together on the count of three, got it?” I instructed, each of them nodding clearly in response. “One. Two. Three!”
We all extended our right feet into the vortex together, and the instant we did we were swept away, falling out of our own world and tumbling between the cracks of countless others. They weren’t real, I don’t think. At least, not as real as our world. They were potential realities, or realities that could have been once but now can never be, or fantasies that are so persistent in the minds of real people that in some sense or another, they become real themselves. I only saw glimmers of them, glimmers in nebulas made of primeval chaos and uttermost void.
It was outside of time, that place we travelled through, or at least we had no sense of it there. Our souls were haphazardly spat out upon a surreal landscape of earth, sea, and fire. Hilly plains of volcanic ash, incandescent calderas of lava and bubbling hot springs all intermeshed in a chaotic mosaic that didn’t seem to abide by any laws of geology or geography that I was familiar with. A strong but slow wind pushed fractal formations of dark silver clouds through a pale silver sky, illuminated by a single white orb which could have been either a bright moon or a faint sun.
While our spectral feet left no trace upon the ash we now stood upon, our presence nonetheless elicited a response from some of the local fauna. We were just able to catch a glimpse of some kind of shimmering scarabs burrowing themselves into the ash to escape the four otherworldly ghosts that had invaded their territory.
“Holy shit,” Charlotte murmured as we all gazed out upon the strange world we had found ourselves on. “This really isn’t on the Astral Plane. This is a real planet. This a real, alien planet! This is unbelievable!”
Genevieve glided over to one of the bubbling pools and peered into it, looking for any more signs of life.
“There’s some kind of bluish-grey algae growing on the rocks down there, and I think I can make out some small arthropods too. This planet’s alive!” she announced with glee, smiling and looking up at the alien sky.
Conjuring an astral approximation of my staff, I plunged it into a small mound of ash beside me. I watched curiously as the scarabs shot out in all directions, moving too quickly for me to get a good look at them, before scurrying back into the surrounding ash.
“These bugs can sense our presence,” I remarked. “How and why would clairvoyance evolve in insects on this world, and why would their first instinct be to flee?”
“Samantha!” Elam called out. “I think I found the Flea Market.”
We all gathered around him and looked where he was pointing. On a distant dune, we beheld the moulted carapace of a colossal insect, gleaming a brilliant, lustrous gold in the broken white light.
“That’s impossible!” Charlotte claimed. “That thing must be hundreds of meters long! No insect, no animal period could ever get that big on the Physical Plane!”
“It could be the Incarnation of some kind of Titan,” Genevieve suggested. “But… it’s dead. I can tell that even from here. It’s dead. It’s the corpse of a dead god, and now it’s being used as a swap meet with a punny name. Either whatever killed it just abandoned it, or…”
“Or is running the place,” I finished for her. “Well, we should see if we can find Emrys.”
In an instant, the world moved around us until we were at the entrance to the Flea Market. The colossal carapace was hollow inside, of course, and had been filled with a bustling city that looked like it had been created in the most ad hoc manner possible. There wasn’t a single straight street to be seen, and they converged with one another at random intervals. Stalls and buildings varied wildly in both design and materials, all imported from a plethora of different cultures across the planes.
Enormous shards of luminous glass levitated above the throng like a thousand Swords of Damocles, any or all of them seeming capable of succumbing to gravity at any moment. In the very center of the moulted husk dangled a great spiralling chrysalis or hive woven of iridescent silk, its function not being immediately apparent to me.
There must have been thousands of people there, and hundreds of merchants hawking their wares. Most of those who looked human still seemed a little off, like they were members of ethnicities that didn’t exist in our world. Some of the beings were near-human in appearance, many seemingly some kind of Fey or Seelie folk. There was even a small handful of people that weren’t remotely human at all.
The only thing they all had in common was that none were native to this world.
“Most of these people are here in person, aren’t they?” Charlotte asked.
“It would’ve been quite a feat for them to have built all of this while astral projecting,” Genevieve agreed.
“But if this place isn’t connected to the Cuniculi, then how did they get here?” Charlotte asked. “We’re on another planet, maybe even in another dimension. If getting here is beyond the Ooo’s abilities, then what sort of ungodly reality benders decided to turn it into a Flea Market?”
“Ladies, gentlemen, and any beings either too ancient and alien or too modern and alienated to settle on one or the other, come bear witness to one of the most astounding and atrocious abominations on this or any other world!” a fast-paced male voice rang out over the din of the crowd.
We turned to see a short, skinny, old-timey sort of carnival barker standing on a literal soap box, placed next to a large object draped in a black tarp.
“For the paltry price of a single three-headed coin, you can peer beneath the veil and behold with your own unbelieving eyes the mangled and mutilated monstrosity that lurks beneath!” the carnival barker continued. “But I must warn you, it is not possible to truly understand what dwells underneath without seeing it first! I cannot guarantee that you will still retain your sanity or will to live after witnessing the proverbial Mountains of Madness, for this low creature is truly like no other and serves only as a grim testament to the cruel sadism of the Lord Above! Anyone plagued by even the faintest lingering doubt as to their spiritual fortitude should not dare to even contemplate what might lie before me! But, for those brave, noble few who are truly dauntless of heart and incorrigible of spirit, I am proud to share with you this rare, unfathomable, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness sublime –”
The carnival barker was interrupted by a man yanking the sheet off the object beside him, revealing it to be a mirror.
“Whelp, that was a hell of an Im14andthisisdeep post, eh?” Charlotte mused.
Genevieve and I, however, were far too stunned to be amused; not by the mirror, but by the man who had unveiled it.
“It’s him, Lottie. That’s Emrys,” Genevieve whispered.
We had only seen him briefly once before, more than two-and-a-half years ago, but he was far from what anyone would call forgettable. He was tall and gaunt, with literal blue blood flowing beneath translucent skin. His long, receding hair and regal beard were pitch black, and dark miasma wafted from his eyes, nose, and mouth. He was dressed in dark sable robes with three overlapping Ouroboros’s tattooed on his forehead, with a pair of ophidian pupils lying in the spaces between them.
What stood out the most to us were the six silver Ouroboros chains bound around his wrists, ankles, waist, and neck. These were the chains the Ophion Occult Order had made to limit the power of his physical avatar, and it seemed he had not yet found a way to free himself from them.
“Are you still here?” Emrys asked in exasperation, tossing the veil back at the carnival barker in disdain.
“…Possibly,” the strange man replied evasively. “But not definitively, for purely legalistic reasons.”
“I believe Mathom-meister was quite clear when he said that your rather pitiful chicanery wasn’t welcomed here,” Emrys reminded him.
“And who is he to judge chicanery from cutthroat, capitalistic competition? Should not the Flea Market be a free market?” the charlatan demanded. “And while we’re on the topic of commerce, I don’t suppose you have enough three-headed coins to pay for all the poor souls you have so discourteously exposed to my exhibit against their will? I’d hate to have to start shaking people down to get my due.”
“Hard to believe your own circus threw you out,” Emrys said with a sardonic eye roll as he tossed him a small medallion. “You get one coin. Take it and get out of my sight.”
The charlatan flipped the coin in the air thrice, presumably to confirm it actually had three heads. Satisfied with its impossible dimensions, he shoved it into his pocket.
“It will cover the trolley ride home, at least,” he acquiesced, stepping off his soap box and turning to face his looking glass. “A shame though you can’t see the genius in my little avant-garde performance piece here, Emmy. Even I know that the monster in the mirror is often the hardest to recognize.”
As the man reached to pick up his mirror, his reflection’s arms shot through the glass and grabbed him by the wrists, pulling him in. Emrys immediately tried to chase after him, but bounced off the glass as if there was nothing supernatural about it at all.
“Bastard!” he cursed under his breath, before turning towards us and giving us a small apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you had to see that rather pathetic display. Unfortunately, the few meeting places I know of that are relatively safe from any Ophionic incursion also attract their fair share of other annoying miscreants.”
“If it didn’t attract a little bit of everything, it wouldn’t be a Flea Market, would it?” I asked rhetorically. “Thank you, Emrys, for inviting us. I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”
“And thank you for accepting. Samantha, Genevieve, it’s a pleasure to see you again, and a relief that you have not fallen under the auspices of the Ophion Occult Order,” he said with a gentle bow. “Elam, I remember you as well. Valiant but not reckless, you remained atop Pendragon Hill during my battle with the Darlings until your mistress was well out of harm’s way, and then you got the hell out of dodge yourself. Samantha couldn’t hope for a better Familiar. And Charlotte, any Witch that Samantha deemed worthy to induct into her coven is obviously someone whose acquaintance I am pleased to make. Welcome, all of you, to Mathom-meister’s Flea Market!”
“So this is where you’ve been hiding out the past two years?” Genevieve asked.
“Oh no. Far too Cosmopolitan for my tastes,” Emrys replied. “No, this is just a friendly place to meet those I consider friends – or potential friends, at least. I’d offer to show you around, but I know it’s difficult for you to astral travel for prolonged periods. Come with me to Mathom-meister’s house where we can talk freely, and we’ll discuss the situation with the Order.”
I gave him a small, single nod in response, and gestured with my staff that he should lead the way. He responded by pointing upwards, then vanished into his shadow form. When we looked up, we saw him waving at us from a balcony atop the great silken chrysalis.
We exchanged hesitant glances with one another, but ultimately followed him into the strange structure, moving from the ground to the balcony in an instant by will alone.
“How would an incarnate being get up here if they couldn’t fly or teleport?” Charlotte asked as she peered over the balcony’s teetering edge.
As though answering a summons, a humanoid creature apparated beside her in a flash of dark vapours. The hunched-back entity stood over six-and-a-half feet tall, and was clad in golden-brown erudite robes. Its squid-like skin was of a similar colour, and its entire face was a single gaping orifice that held a wispy, glowing orb in the center of its skull which I immediately recognized as its soul. A pair of long, fanged tentacles lined with pores and tendrils hung down from its head like a long, forked beard, and the seven digits shared by its two hands all bore wicked-looking talons, as did its two-toed, digitigrade feet.
“Not fly or teleport? What sort of pedestrian house guests do you think I entertain here?” the being asked wryly, its voice seeming to come from nowhere in particular.
Charlotte instinctively backed away from the creature and into the protective fold of our coven, but Emrys was quick to hold up his hand to plead for calm.
“Please, there’s no need for alarm. This is our host, Mathom-meister. He’s the only reason any of this is here in the first place,” Emrys informed us. “A year or two ago a companion of his unfortunately became one of the Darling Twin’s victims, and when he heard of my vendetta with them, he tracked me down; which is no small feat, I assure you.”
“It is for us. My people are a race of Planeswalkers. Traversing the many worlds of Creation is second nature to us,” Mathom-meister explained.
“I’ve… I’ve heard of your people, I think,” I said, softly and unsurely. “A friend of mine had an encounter with an artifact that gave her a vision of a race of strange and powerful sorcerers slaying their own god. I take it you’re the ones who slayed this Scarab Titan as well? That’s, that’s…”
“Horrifying, yes. That’s the idea,” he nodded. “You have nothing to worry about, young Witch. My people have no special interest in your world. This is purely personal. My friend is dead, and I want his murderers brought to justice; a goal which Emrys and I happen to have in common.”
“Feel free to share this information with the Ophion Occult Order, Samantha,” Emrys said. “I’d very much like for the Darling Twins to know what’s hunting them. Mathom-meister, please excuse me while I take my guests inside. We do have pressing business to discuss and their time is limited.”
The squid-cyclopes bowed gracefully, and my coven and I quickly scurried after Emrys as he led us inside through a towering hallway and into a large chamber that had been appointed as a living space.
I had thought that Emrys would want to speak with us alone, which was why I was surprised to see a young woman sitting cross-legged on a spongey yet chitinous object that I will for the sake of my sanity call a bean bag chair. Like Emrys, she was pale and blue-blooded, her choppy hair as black as coal. She wore a black robe and heavy black eyeliner, but these could not conceal the fact that she too had thin wisps of miasma emanating from her eyes.
“Is that your… daughter?” Charlotte asked, as baffled by her presence as any of us. The woman smiled warmly at the question.
“In a way. I was dead, and Emrys gave me new life. Now a part of the Outer Primordial Darkness he represents lives in me too,” she said serenely.
Hovering above her left palm were three small bluish-green orbs, lazily going around in a circle. They were translucent and held something inside them that I couldn’t make out, but the orbs themselves appeared to be melting and solidifying by the woman’s will.
“You’re Petra, aren’t you?” I asked as I cautiously approached her. “Chamberlin had mentioned that Emrys had taken an acolyte. I’m Samantha, and this is Genevieve, Elam, and Charlotte.”
“I know. The whole reason we’re here is to speak with you,” she nodded.
“The Ophion Occult Order calls me a soul-flayer, and I’m sure you were all wondering exactly what that meant before you came here,” Emrys said, standing proudly behind his acolyte. “Well, this is it. The Darkness Beyond is now a part of her, and a part of her now lives within the Darkness Beyond. She is not unchanged from what she was before, but neither has what she was been lost.”
“My interpretation of the term ‘soul-flaying’ was the complete removal of a person’s consciousness from their astral and physical bodies to be subsumed by your Darkness,” I countered. “They told me that what you’ve done with Petra here is just the limit of your power while you’re bound in their chains. Are you telling me that if your chains were broken, you wouldn’t be able to do any worse than this?”
“On my physical avatar? No. So long as my astral form remains chained and bound with the World Serpent, I cannot cleave a conscious mind from its astral substrate,” Emrys assured me.
“But that is your ultimate goal, isn’t it? Breaking the chains the Ophion Occult Order put on you is just a stepping stone to breaking the ones the gods bound you with?” Genevieve asked. “You’ve allied yourself with a literal god slayer. Do you expect us to believe that his people’s abilities aren’t something you intend to put to your own ends?”
“I don’t have an ultimate goal so much as I have a fundamental principle of opposing tyranny,” he claimed. “When I was a mere man, thousands of years ago, I was a tyrant. I believed that might made right so unquestionably that when my might began to fail me, the only thing I could think to do was to try everything in my power to restore it. This quest eventually led to me becoming one with the Darkness Beyond, which gave me not only the might I coveted but the wisdom I didn’t know I needed. It gave me perspective. It made me stronger than any human alive at that point but still let me realize how insignificant I was. It was humbling, and enlightening, and filled me both with remorse over my past actions and an impetus to use my newfound gifts to rectify them. I tried to overthrow the gods themselves which, in hindsight, was overly ambitious. I not only failed but had my soul devoured by the World Serpent, where it still resides to this day.
“I am not eager to bring the wrath of the gods down upon me once again. No, for now, I will be content to end the tyranny of the Ophion Occult Order. This is the message I’d like you to relay to them. If the Grand Adderman agrees to unbind my chains and step down from his post, I will spare his life. If he declines, I want the rest of the Order to know that I will show mercy to any who sides with me over him. I am willing to allow the Order to exist so long as it agrees to become more decentralized, democratic, and accountable. They will have to forfeit certain artifacts and individuals in their possession over to me, chief among them the Darling Twins, but I am willing to negotiate. If they aren’t, then I will overthrow the Grand Adderman by whatever means necessary and see the Order scattered to the four winds. It is entirely up to them whether or not the conflict between us escalates to full-on war. Have I made myself clear, Samantha?”
“I think so,” I said as I pensively considered everything he had said. “Why should they trust you to keep your word once your chains are broken? For that matter, why should we?”
He took a moment to consider his response, eyeing me over as though he was trying to divine something that would win over my trust.
“Samantha, you made a pact with Persephone to get your Spirit Familiar there; one where she swore by the River Styx. Is that correct?” he asked.
“It is,” I nodded.
“And in the years since, has Persephone ever broken that pact she swore to?” he asked.
“No, she hasn’t,” I replied.
“I may not be an Old God, but so long as my astral form remains bound by their chains, they have power over me,” he said. “Samantha Sumner, Hedge Witch of Harrowick Woods, I swear on the River Styx that I have spoken no lies to you today. I swear by the River Styx that I will abide by any Covenant that I and the Ophion Occult Order agree to in good faith and fair dealing that they do not break first. I swear by the River Styx that when my chains are broken, I will give you no cause to fear me or regret your trust in me.”
I gave a questioning glance to Genevieve, and then Elam, both of whom nodded in the affirmative.
“All right. An oath sworn on the River Styx is good enough for me. I’ll deliver your terms to Seneca Chamberlin,” I agreed. “I’m very grateful for the trust and respect you’ve shown for me and my coven, Emrys, though I can’t say I quite understand it. Out of all the guests that were there on the Hallow’s Eve you were summoned, why did Evie and I stand out to you?”
“The Ophion Occult Order deemed you worthy of inclusion in their cult, an offer you rejected on principle. You cheated Persephone, but you did it not to gain immortality for yourself but to save your friend from hell. You came here, thinking I could very well tear your souls asunder, but did so because you believed it was your duty to prevent needless suffering,” Emrys answered. “You are extraordinary in your craft, courage, and conscience, the latter of which especially stood out among the degenerates at that party. I do apologize if I frightened you at that event. I was a bit… irritable, given the circumstances. I’m glad we were able to meet again under more pleasant conditions.”
“So am I, Emrys,” I nodded. “I’m not sure exactly what this means or how relevant it is, but Seneca wanted me to tell you that he’s able to offer you the Dream Demon Red Ruck as a sacrifice.”
“Pffft. Tell him it’s hardly a sacrifice if I’m getting rid of a boogie man for him,” he scoffed. “In fact, now that you mention it, Ruck’s one egregore that might be of more use to me alive.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but we were suddenly interrupted by the rapid pounding of a gong somewhere down below. It seemed to be an alarm of some kind, as we could hear the panicked shouting and frantic racing of people either battening down or forsaking the Flea Market altogether.
Mathom-meister apparated into the middle of the room, his facial tentacles reflexively raised in a defensive position.
“Were you outside the market?” he demanded of us.
“The portal we came through deposited us a few miles outside of the market, yes,” I admitted.
“Damn,” Emrys cursed softly, though he sounded more frustrated than angry. “Meister, it’s not their fault. I knew they weren’t experienced Planeswalkers, I could have – ”
“It doesn’t matter!” Mathom-meister interjected. “They need to leave, now!”
“Why, what’s going on?” Genevieve demanded.
“The scarabs are swarming,” Petra explained. “Don’t feel bad; it happens often enough that they’re prepared for it.”
I wanted to press for more details, but I could hear the humming of a vast winged swarm steadily encroaching upon us.
“Don’t worry. Once you leave the swarm will disperse… eventually,” Emrys told us. “We’ve said all that need be said for now. Return home, and I’ll reach out to you again shortly, Samantha.”
Again, I wanted to object, but the swarm outside was growing louder and louder, and it occurred to me that we might not be completely safe from a biblical swarm of insects that could not only sense but evidently sought out souls.
This occurred to Charlotte as well, as she was the first of us to vanish and awaken back in her body. We could all feel the weight of her reembodied soul tugging on us to return with her. Genevieve immediately grabbed hold of my right hand and Elam my left, both of them refusing to leave before I did.
I spared one final glance at Emrys, lamenting that we couldn’t have had more time.
“I’ll relay everything you said to the Order. I’ll make sure they know you’re willing to negotiate a truce,” I vowed.
He gave me a gracious nod, and just as we heard the swarm start to pelt the exterior of the market, I forced my physical eyes open and was back in my body, still safely under a willow tree in my cemetery.
I immediately looked beside me to Genevieve, and saw that she was awake as well, and then around me for Elam, who seemed to be suffering a bit of spectral whiplash from being pulled back with me so suddenly, but was otherwise all right. Sighing with relief, I turned lastly to Charlotte, and saw that she was looking down at the mediation circle in dreaded horror.
Following her gaze, I saw that the Undying Rose was gone – spent, perhaps, in exchange for our passage – and in its place was the inert, and hopefully dead, body of one of the shimmering scarabs.

Hello! My love for the past 10 years has recently expressed their interest in ENM, and I wish to be a supportive whilst happy partner. They say and I’ve known they have so much love in their heart, and for years wished they could give more before learning about non-traditional relationships these past few months. They’re an easy person to fall in love with, and on the flip-side, easily fall for others! For now, they wish to practice what they called “flings” and “Sunday friends.” ^{(But they identify as demisexual, so it comes with a history and feelings\}))

• I’ve read that successful poly relationships mostly stem from partners being poly in the beginning of the relationship. Is there a chance we could become successful together? I previously considered leaving, but decided that they’re worth walking through Tarturus for—and anything less severe, such as an open relationship—and to not be so closed-minded nor -hearted before trying.
• How can I overcome jealousy? This is something I’ve struggled with for a long time, and I genuinely wish to change, both for myself and my sweetheart. I don’t wish to allow for my own insecurity to hurt my better half nor myself. They continue to tell me it has nothing to do with me, or that I’m “not enough,” but it’s difficult to not feel it. This is my biggest concern of all questions; I want to become a better person and partner, and finally get rid of all this worry and hurt.
• Similarly, envy: I feel envious that my partner already has what feels like “people lined up,” whom they’ve met freelancing while I’ve been supporting us for 8-10 hours a day in jobs I’ve hated for years. How do I overcome feelings of betrayal, and similarly, loneliness? I don’t exactly have a friend group these days—I’m always tired, and days off are spent resting. I’m scared of searching for or jumping into partners too soon, but I’m growing more and more curious about the idea; if you have advice, what would it be? ^{(And I DID quit my job,} *^finally*^{, this week! I have a libido again LOL But in all seriousness, these conversations have made me wish to take incentive to start making even small choices to be happy. I’ve never quit a job before, unless it’s to move! It’s all very exciting but scary AAAAA})

I’m not sure what else to ask, from the top of my head. I’m very grateful my love opened up with me about this, and continues to do so. They waited to move forward their virtual relationships ^{(being immunocompromised, they don’t feel yet comfortable with the idea of meeting physically due to COVID concerns}), and began to tell friends they romantically love them, after I said it was okay.
They were also kind enough to ask about phoning one of their belles, and more than invited and encouraged me to stay in the room while they had a friendly chat yesterday. I still haven’t met any of their romantic interests, but that was an alien experience! I fled at the beginning, but returned and found myself smiling and laughing at their talk about video games of all things. But I don’t want to have that initial instinct of “run away,” and want to encourage while simultaneously becoming fully comfortable with them following wherever their heart leads. I also don’t wish to “hover” over them nor involve myself in their private relationships. Is there any way I can fully trust and believe that my love would still continue to love and be interested in me, even though they’ve repeated it to me since opening up? Does it just take time?
I don’t wish to give the impression that ENM isn’t the glove that fits me. It’s all just brand-new, and I see this as an opportunity for my sweetheart to be even happier, while I can continue to grow and become both a better person and partner. And maybe find that this is an arrangement I can be happy with multiple partners, too, after an instance or two in these past years together facing strong feelings for others I suppressed in the past for the sake of monogamy. If you have any further advice, insight or resources, I’d be more than excited to hear them! 💖

This post is 4500+ words long BUT I promise you, you will learn MORE than any $10,000 high ticket coaching program…
There’s no TL;DR because I only write for a serious audience that likes to read.
I will teach you everything about High-Ticket today so you can make a lot of money with certainty… everything bout using Facebook Ads… everything about high ticket marketing.
I’m currently spending $500,000-$550,000 a week (with a 3.4x cash ROAS) on Facebook Ads across multiple accounts, so I’m certainly qualified to talk on this subject.
You will never find me on YouTube or TikTok.. but you will certainly find the Gurus.
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You’ve seen them everywhere… the GURUs!
Youtube, TikTok, Facebook Groups and Twitter - The courses, the masterminds, the telegram groups, the programs…
From the early 2014 Sam Ovens days, to the Dan Loks, to the Gadhzis, Traffic & Funnels (who ACTUALLY had great products), to Cole Gordon (also has good products)… and modern day 20-something Money Twitter chads… this space is not stopping anytime soon.
This space has been prevalent way before Facebook & YouTube Ads were even a thing…
The REAL Goats like Kevin Nations, Tony Robbins, Jay Abraham… ALL sold BIG TICKET when a dollar was worth a LOT more than the dollar is worth today…
Today you’re seeing the mind boggling figures, the sports cars, the luxury vacations, you’re following Tate… and you want what they have, so you buy the courses and the programs in the hope to get that…
But you won’t get it - unless you understand the GAME. And the name of the game is PSYCHOLOGY. Human psychology.
And in this post I will unravel the mystery behind HOW these Guru’s scale “to-the-moon”…
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I will unravel what they know (and you don’t)… so you keep buying (or illegally download) their programs in the hope to get the payoff - which is the money!
And even if you don’t buy their programs, and say, you just rip them off of some site… you’re STILL under their influence.
You STILL think the thoughts that they want you to think. And therefore you cannot solely make decisions based on real wisdom that is yours.
It is cult-like behavior where the Guru leads, and the followers look up to him. The followers then force themselves to think and behave like the Guru they look up to…
It’s sad, because in the process you give your individual thinking power away.
In this post I want to give you the tools, the ammunition and the frame - to think for yourself…
… to understand how marketing works, to understand why some businesses make millions while the majority just can’t even get their business off the ground…
And more importantly, I want to give you the power to use these tools to make a lot of money for yourself WITHOUT supplicating to a guru.
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Does that mean you should NOT buy programs? No I don’t mean that.
I have personally paid for (and will continue to pay for) expensive masterminds and coaching programs… BUT the difference is… I don’t BLINDLY follow anyone.
I am able to take the BEST parts from everyone I have learned from, and modify it to create my methods that suits my businesses the best.
And I want the same for you.
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THE FUNDAMENTALS BEFORE MEDIA BUYING

A lot of you just jump straight to launching ads WITHOUT understanding the fundamentals.
And I don’t mean just the Ad network fundamentals… but literally marketing fundamentals that attract your ideal customers.
I’ll keep it simple.
The High-Ticket sales process looks like this:
Audience -> Copy -> OffeFunnel -> Ads -> Lead Gen -> Sales 101 + Nurturing -> Application -> Sales Call -> Close
The problem is - none of you look at the entire chain above. Everyone’s just shooting for “Leads”
In fact, the term “lead gen” is so bastardized today that a “Lead” itself has no value - because it has no foundation.
In another post I wrote about how YOU have to define what a Lead means to YOU.
So if you’re just going to shoot for leads, what does that really mean? - Is it an opt-in? - a registration? - An application? - a sales meeting booked? - a sales meeting show up?
You can’t know how to work the economics in your favor, if you don’t look at the big picture…
You need to OPTIMIZE everything on a straight line and hand hold a “Top-of-funnel-prospect” into becoming a “Bottom-of-funnel-client”
Hand holding is key.
At any step in the funnel BEFORE the sale if you leave their hand, you will LOSE them.
Your prospects are like your kids. You need to hold their hand until they are confident they can find their own way…
Similarly, you need to hold your prospects hand, and not leave it, until they can confidently make a decision to work with you.
Btw this works for high-ticket & low-ticket both… we’re however only addressing high-ticket fundamentals in this post.
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SO WHAT DOES HAND HOLDING MEAN? IT MEANS "CHAIN-LINKING"

The process of taking your prospects from first seeing your Ad -> appealing to their core desires -> modifying their intent & motivation -> nurturing them on the back with emails & sms -> qualifying them via the application process -> making the sales touch points -> closing the deal…
… all of this has to be done using “Chain-linking”
If even one link in this entire chain breaks, your ENTIRE sales process will fall FLAT.
And you won’t even know who or what to blame. - Should you blame the ads? - Should you blame the copy? - The funnel architecture? - The sales person?
You can’t even isolate - and you’ll just turn off the entire campaign… and eventually, your business.
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THE GURUS’ SECRET

Pay attention!
All gurus are MASTERS of “chain-linking”
All gurus appeal to your inner-most, CORE desires, lure you in by targeting your PAIN points, then modify your intentions, motivations and your thought processes…
… eventually you’re at the other end of the chain, either reading a sales letter, or watching a webinar, or a VSL… and ultimately buying their courses and programs.
The chain starts from a TOF (top of funnel) video ad, or tweet/thread, or YouTube/TikTok video saying certain things that grabs your attention… and triggers your emotions….
… That links into multiple other videos that “arouse desire” and give you the impression that you’re learning something that will help you achieve your desire…
… but in reality the only thing you’re learning, is to “trust the guru”… and by virtue of that trust you must believe everything they say is true…
… when the Guru has established THAT level of trust, where you believe everything they say is true, you are in what is a called, a “SOLD STATE”.
Chain-Linking is ALL about moving prospects from “attention state” to “sold state”
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The reason WHY Gurus are able to sell High-Ticket at SCALE… is because they are able to move thousands of prospects from “attention state” to “sold state” via Chain-Linking.
When a prospect is in the “sold state” you don’t have to sell him. He sells himself on your product.
This is why today, high-pressure sales tactics have EVOLVED into chain-linking sales tactics…
… because technology via the means of YouTube videos, TikTok Videos, Instagram videos is changing peoples thoughts, beliefs, motivations at scale.
Let me give you an example. Take a look at what Iman Gadzhi has been doing with his “Great Reset” series or whatever it’s called.
He’s created a MASSIVE chain-link.
He has 3-4 YouTube videos in this series… and the job of EACH YouTube video is to connect you to the next video - where the story moves forward.
It’s like watching a Netflix show for these kids.
​
At the END of the chain he sells you his program. But the mastery is in his “Chain-Linking”
1) His Chain starts with a sensational announcement across multiple platforms: YT, Email list, Telegram Group, Insta stories… 2) The announcement teases a “groundbreaking” revelation of the “puppet masters of the banking cartel” and how they’re going to make & keep his prospects miserably poor (touches on the pain points, triggers certain emotions..) 3) The video releases, the production is top quality, the message is extremely sensational like you’re watching a late-night history-channel conspiracy theory show (addictive elements that trigger & glue the reptile brain) 4) The video ends on a sort of cliff hanger that pushes his audience to make sure they watch the next video that releases a few days later, to complete the story and mystery he is “revealing” so they can protect themselves from “tyranny” 5) He has additional components to his chain that make his viewership go viral in the form of free giveaways, cash prizes for liking & commenting on his videos - so he games the YT algos at scale (and actually gives away thousands of dollars in cash which is cool, as that’s fed into his customer acquisition cost). 6) There’s mass hysteria among his target audience, and without them realizing this, they’re giving away their thinking power to him. He thinks for them, they just DO based on what he thinks is right for them. That is to start an agency. Across the several videos they don’t realize but he’s changed their thoughts, their beliefs, and he’s modified their intent and motivations. 7) At the end of the chain his prospects are lead to buy his Agency Navigator program. At this point they are already in the “SOLD STATE” via the Chain-linking mechanism described above. A slight push-over-the-fence from a sales rep, and they all buy PROVIDED it’s a good offer.
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There are several components to a successful chain, and there are SPECIFIC methods & actions you need to take to make sure the chain is strong - so you can SCALE your High-Ticket sales.
But you need to understand, that what’s even MORE important than simply running ads to get high ticket clients, is to link a strong chain together.
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Again, I am NOT saying this is evil manipulation.
It is ONLY evil, if you falsely advertise your products & services.
If the product or service is fake and doesn’t deliver results, then it’s a CON.
If the product or service is beneficial for the buyer, then it’s MARKETING.
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THE COMPONENTS OF THE CHAIN

There are several components to a strong chain, but they are ALL glued together with the power of words.
Whether it’s a video, or written copy - it’s all words.
It’s really only WORDS that has moved human beings from a relatively new species on the planet, to the world’s most powerful & dominant species.
The ability to communicate articulately, transfer thoughts, trigger emotions, transfer ideas, instill beliefs, motivate and inspire actions — That’s what separates us from every other species in the animal kingdom.
- We use WORDS to make people and things move. - We use WORDS to make people create things out of thin air. - We use WORDS to drive people to take action.
Words create visuals in the mind -> visuals create feelings in the body -> feelings arouse desire in the heart -> desire creates motivation to do something -> and the will to do something inspires action
A chain is an assembly of links. A ROBUST assembly is what makes the chain-link STRONG.
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These are the components of a robust chain: 1) Words 2) Visuals 3) Feelings 4) Desire 5) Motivation 6) Inspiration 7) Action

• At the Top-Of-Funnel of your chain you grab attention with words
• Your words should create specific visuals in your prospects minds
• Those visuals should make your prospects feel certain things (now they are his visuals & his feelings)
• Those feelings should elicit desire for something that he wants
• That desire should motivate him to want to accomplish something now
• That motivation to accomplish something now should inspire him to take ACTION now!

Every component of the chain needs to worked on thoroughly. You should NEVER take your prospect for granted.
Remember this... -Just because he clicks on your Ad doesn’t mean he will sign up -Just because he signs up doesn’t mean he will watch your video -Just because he starts watching your video doesn’t mean he will complete it -Just because he watches your entire video doesn’t mean he will apply & book a call -Just because he books a call doesn’t mean he will show up -Just because he shows up doesn’t mean he will buy your program
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Are you starting to see clearly now?
EVERY component of the chain needs to be thoroughly worked on…
And it needs to be worked on using the power of words.
If you’re not good at writing, then you need to work with a copywriter. A direct response copywriter.
But you will NOT succeed if you cannot write good copy. You need good copy for your videos, your sales letters, your VSLs, your ads, your creatives, all your pages…
Without good copy you will certainly never make it on the internet. Or to put it rather simply - if you want to make it on the internet you need to get good at writing well.
If you’d like to get good at copywriting, you can read my book to learn advanced copywriting frameworks to sell your offers on the internet - you’ll find it on my profile.
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So how do you assemble the components of the chain you ask? Keep reading…
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THE FORMULA TO ASSEMBLE THE COMPONENTS

Marketing is a creative science. And science follows formulas. There are 4 main pillars to assemble the components of the chain.
The components of the assembly line are based on these 4 pillars: 1) Pain & Problems 2) Mistakes 3) Pleasures 4) Solutions
To dive deeper…
1) Pain & Problems… your prospects are having 2) The mistakes… they’re making due to which they’re having these problems 3) The pleasure… they will derive from fixing these mistakes 4) Your solution… that will help them fix their mistakes, eliminate their problems and help them experience the pleasures they want
These pillars allow you to strengthen the components of your chain...
When you’re trying to move prospects from “attention state” to “sold state”… … When you’re trying to move them from “words” to “action”…
… the more you base your components on these 4 pillars the more successful you will be.
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You’ll need these pillars in: 1) Ad copy 2) Sales Letters 3) VSLs 4) Emails 5) Organic YT, TikTok videos
Now remember the High-Ticket sales process I mentioned earlier:
Audience -> Copy -> OffeFunnel -> Ads -> Lead Gen -> Sales 101 + Nurturing -> Application -> Sales Call -> Close
That’s the overall big picture chain…
To attract your audience and close them, you have to move them from “words” to “action”. You need all the components between words & action to move them from “attention” to “sold state”.
And your components need to be based on the 4 pillars I just taught you.
The threshold for how well someone responds to pointing out their pain & problems, directly corresponds to their “emotional state” - but that’s a topic for another post.
Going forward, when you look at Gurus online, pay attention! You will notice these pillars, you’ll notice the components, and you’ll clearly see the invisible “chain-linking” in action…
Only this time you WON'T unconsciously participate in their chain, but you will observe what they’re doing with this newfound wisdom you have.
You will be able to study their marketing, understand what’s going on, and optimize your own marketing based on what you see happening in the market.
This is why it’s important to learn the FUNDAMENTALS.
You don’t just blindly wanna follow Gurus, instead, you want to understand HOW their marketing works - so you can make your marketing better than theirs!
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THE FACEBOOK ADS FUNNEL

Facebook is my favorite Ad network. I’ve made millions of dollars using it… For other businesses, I’ve made over $55M+ in just the last 3 years…
I’ve been running Facebook Ads since 2010 (still have that Ad account). BEFORE they even had this thing called the “pixel”. Back then we would just buy impressions by targeting interests - there were no optimization events.
As of today, it’s an extremely intelligent Ad network.
The cost effective ability to just launch an offer and start making money from the first day of running ads, just doesn’t exist on other networks…
Most people fail on Facebook because their fundamentals are not in order. The same fundamentals I just taught you in the sections above.
But now that YOU have your fundamentals sorted, you can confidently run Ads, and you will make money with certainty!
However, before you start running Ads you need to make sure you’ve set up your structures correctly - so that you don’t get banned or get your accounts disabled.
Read my blueprint here on how to properly configure your Facebook Ads setup so you’re good to run profitable ads without the worries of getting your ad accounts banned or restricted…
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WHAT WORKS FOR HIGH-TICKET?
Models change as markets get more sophisticated.
What was new becomes old, and what’s old could possibly become new again. But in most cases old models never return.
The pager will never return, fax will never return…
In high-ticket marketing we used to have Webinars. The webinar model was popularized by Sam Ovens. Many experts then taught what he taught - and eventually the webinar model stopped working.
There are a plethora of models that have come and gone… we had the long form VSL (with text subtitles)…
We had the case study model… then we had the 5-min VSL (which is still doing well)… now Podcast VSLs are becoming the new thing…
The question you need to ask yourself, is what does YOUR market consume?
What skills can you bring to the table to make your assets more engaging? Are you good at video? Are you good at writing copy? Are you a good media buyer? Are you good at SEO? What is YOUR skill?
YOUR skill needs to be the primary driver of your campaign.
For me it’s always been copywriting that’s my primary skill - I can write 10,000 words a day if I really want to without getting bored. I genuinely love it.
So naturally, sales letters were the primary driver of my campaign.
So in this post I’ll talk about my Sales Letter Method that’s left industry experts astonished at my results.
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My sales letters in the high ticket space have turned: - $4k of Ad spend into $10M for a investment offer - $7k of Ad spend into $200k/month for enterprise software - $5k of Ad spend into $50k/month for web development agencies - $500k of Ad spend into $3M/month for home & bath remodeling
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I’ve done the sales letter method in 37+ industries, over 217 businesses and $55M+ revenue generated..
Here’s how it works.
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The Sales Letter Method

On the surface the concept is simple. You write a long form sales letter for your market with your offer. You have NO opt-in page… you send traffic straight to the long-form.
The sales letter is usually 3000-4000 words long. The goal of the sales letter is to educate + motivate the reader. Educate them on what they’ve been missing… and motivate them to take action.
It works in every industry.
One of my clients named Arash hit $20,000/month in commissions selling mortgages, with a simple sales letter backed by only $1.5k in Ad spend…
And then I have real estate brokers who’ve sold multi-million dollar luxury homes using the sales letter method.
The goal is to heighten emotional impact via education and then motivate them to get the pay off.
There is NO call-to-action anywhere on the page, except for the BOTTOM.
Only after they’ve read the entire sales letter, at the bottom of the page they find a CTA that asks them to opt-in to proceed to an application.
When you do this, you eliminate bad leads, and only have qualified prospects at the bottom of the letter.
After they opt-in, they have to fill an application form that further qualifies their intent. This application will tell you if they’re motivated to get started soon, if they have money to spend with you, what kind of help they need, if you’re able to even help them etc. etc. - the more information they give you in the application the more motivated they are…
After they fill up the application form, you send them to your calendar to book an appointment. They select a day & time and book that meeting.
With the sales letter method we shorten the chain, we make it tight and only let QUALIFIED prospects through the door… those who are motivated and ready to buy your products right now…
The sales letter method can easily get you from $0 to $50k-$100k a month. On a light $5k-$8k ad spend..
The sales letter method replaces the webinar because nobody wants to watch 1 hour long videos to get the payoff - if the market is sophisticated - people want the solution now… and that’s what the sales letter gives them.
If your sales letter has ALL the components of the chain based on the 4 pillars I mentioned above - you will have a HIT letter! And this letter can make you lots of money for a year or two easily.
So naturally the next step is to understand how to run Facebook Ads and throw traffic at this sales letter that brings you high-ticket clients.

FACEBOOK CAMPAIGNS

The setup is extremely simple. I’ve written a TON of posts on how to setup your campaigns in detail which you can find anywhere on my profile.
But since this post is already getting too long, it’ll keep it short.
a) You create 1 CBO b) 1 Ad Set c) 1 or 2 Ads 1) Set the budget on the CBO to $100 per day (…or $50 per day if you use my special targeting method explained later in this post)
2) With the Ad set stack it up with audiences relevant to your niche, and make sure you narrow them down to your particular demographic (when you use my special targeting method you don’t need to do this - instead you directly target people with money!)
3) Keep your audience size between 3M-5M
4) Set placements to Facebook newsfeed ONLY
5) On the Ads level write 1 ad with mid-form copy 500 words max… and have 2 creatives in there.
And that’s all. Just leave it alone. This setup alone should get you 2-5 appointments a day…
As you want to increase lead flow, simply bump up the budgets and wait 3-5 days for the ad sets to optimize.
If you want to spread lead flow across multiple sales teams, just make sure you add more creatives as you bump budgets up.

TARGETING

Targeting can make or break your campaigns. Yet this is what confuses most people. And now with Facebook removing interests by the thousands, and Google removing targeting options everyday… it’s become even more confusing.
The main thing you want to look for when targeting is “intent”. If you change your focus from demographic to “prospect intent” you will be more successful.
When you think within the constraints of avatademographic - you’ll be very restricted. Restricted because you’ll type in the same first things that come to all your competitors minds.
So what ends up happening is everyone targets the same interests and keywords - and that drives competition up.
When all your competitors are targeting the same keywords and interests that also drives CPMs up - so advertising becomes increasingly expensive.
That comes with the added issue that your prospects are seeing the SAME messaging from multiple people, they’re seeing the same claims being made - that makes markets sophisticated.
So you need to focus on prospect “intent” and think of what their intentions are, and target their intentions.
One of the things I am currently doing is targeting “High-Intent Audiences”
If you’re technically savvy you’ll understand what I mean by the following: Since interests on Facebook don’t work as well as they used to, due to increased competition and fewer interests available, I’ve started targeting custom lists.
What I do works very well.
I developed a tool at my agency that scrapes & builds large targeted lists of High-Intent prospects. The tool grabs hundreds of thousands of emails & phones from FB profile IDs then matches them with other social parameters on LinkedIn, IG, Twitter etc.
This can be done in any niche, and you can do it too. Or you can use mine, just ask me or send me a message.
I then upload these lists to any FB Ad account via their API and after they match the lists with their datasets - I always end up getting a 80-85% match rate.
That’s great because with a list of 100,000 contacts, even if 80,000 match - I am now able to create 1-2% LOOKALIKES of this targeted list.
This allows me to target millions of people that have shown HIGH-INTENT for the products and services I am advertising.
For example, I do this a lot when helping investment funds get accredited investors. It’s not easy to target by net worth on FB anymore - so with my tool I am able to laser target exactly who fits the accredit bracket and target only them with Ads.
This has resulted in $50 appointment bookings for investment funds with 7-figure accredited investors. This is how I was able to help one fund accrue $10M with just a $4k in ad spend.
You can easily do this if you understand apps and how to use the FB API - it will require some coding and programming on you part..
Or you can use some high-intent marketing and targeting tools to get your hands on such lists and then target them with your ads.

FINAL WORDS

If you’ve read up to this part you’re my type of person. I spend hours on the internet reading long form content. I have a voracious appetite for reading & writing.
Also, if you’re read up until this point you’re probably very intelligent and I would love to be friends with you. If you enjoyed my content, and found it valuable and beneficial in anyway, please share it with your network.
Please share it with anyone you think will benefit from this knowledge. I love to write and educate people, and more importantly I love connecting with my readers. So feel free to leave a comment below and send me a message if you’d like to be friends!
​
Here are some Reddit links to some valuable posts I’ve written in the past, I hope you find them beneficial:
- How 1 CBO on Facebook brings 200+ Leads per month & 80+ QUALIFIED booked calls…
- How To Get 50+ Hot Leads & Sales Meetings Per Week Using High Intent Customer Targeting (FACEBOOK ADS)
- How to ACTUALLY get Quality Leads using Facebook Ads and make a lot of money
- The "2023 How-To-Get-Clients Playbook" From an 8-Figure Marketer
Have a great day/night!

he gave me a head’s up as soon as we started talking to each other. i asked him some questions about it and i felt like i had a rough idea, so i didn’t really think much of it. especially since he said he’s on medication. last night though, he posted on his snapchat story a video that was pitch black with music playing and he was talking to himself and at the end he just laughed so loud and it was the first time i’ve been scared of him. i know schizophrenia doesn’t make you dangerous or a threat, i know he’s still my boyfriend and i love him. but i’m just really worried.
i did some research this morning and i wish i’d done it sooner. apparently it can lead to difficulty in paying attention or lacking expression? i don’t know, i used to get upset with him for these things since i took them personally and now i feel so bad because he seemed like he was genuinely trying. i myself have clinical depression and i know they’re completely different things, but i just feel so dumb for not being more empathetic when i also have a mental illness.
he said he was scared to tell me about his schizophrenia because it was a problem with some of his exes and i wanted to be show him that it doesn’t bother me. because it truly doesn’t. but it still feels like unfamiliar territory, so i’m worried i might do or say the wrong thing again.

TL/DR: A nice gentle easy way to let down a coworker without being mean
I (22m) tried being nice and make new friends at work but my coworker (33f) is on a different type of timing I’m on. we exchanged numbers because we’d always say hi but never had an actual conversation which I now regret. I didn’t want to mess with a coworker and thought we were leading down the road to friends but she’s pressuring me to cuddle, kiss, and go on dates but I don’t see her that way plus (the job is so draining and far that I really don’t want to be bothered with nothing else). I tried giving her the cold shoulder by going missing for a few days since we never text about nothing important, but she’ll continue to reach out & once we get to work she makes it her goal to come find me and make me nervous - worst part is she has everyone thinking we fool around AND my manager gave me the same task as her so now we have to be around each other more so it’s only getting worse. I know it may seem dumb to y’all but I hate being mean to people especially when they’re nice and I know have a crush on me - but she thinks I like her back and that couldn’t be anymore than false and it’s messing with me because I thought she would’ve left me alone by now. She claims she’s my friend and understands my anxiety but she keeps talking about how badly she wants to cuddle and be happy but I can’t be that dude for her. I called her pretty and beautiful because she called me handsome, but I don’t want her to feel like I’m leading her on & ignoring her texts does nothing. Any gentle/genuine tips for dealing with her will be helpful

It gets dark very early this time of year this far north.
By 4:00 PM, the sun is already set, and dusk is upon us. Definitely not the ideal conditions for a girl who looks as young as I do to be walking home alone. The route that I'd chosen from the Junior high school to the house was particularly off the beaten track and took me through several tranquil and deserted areas of town. No parent with even a shred of love in their heart for their child would allow them to make this walk at any time of year, let alone in the depths of winter.
It was just after I’d passed the cemetery and was about to turn onto the path through the woods that I became aware of his presence. At this point, he was what you would consider a safe distance behind me. I didn't want to turn around and look directly at him. Still, I could tell from the heavy footfall of his steps and the excited nature of his breathing that he was about 30 or 40 feet away. There were no other people around, and this road was a dead end with no houses on it, meaning that the chances of someone driving by were minimal. I was acutely aware that it was just him and me.
Despite many thoughts running through my mind at that moment, one above all was controlling me: 'if this situation is going to go down the way I think it will, I need to make a move right now.' I started to increase my pace, not so much that it would be immediately apparent, but enough that I would significantly increase the distance between him and me. Unless that is, he really was following me and altered his speed to keep up. Sure enough, within a couple of seconds, I sensed him breaking into a slow jog in order to catch up and close the distance between us.
'OK, Carmilla, time to make a choice: do I run or do I turn and confront this man?' I was right at the head of the woodland park at this point, so I decided to turn around.
"Hello, mister. Can I help you with something? Are you lost?"
I detected the slightest hint of surprise that I'd acted in this way. Still, he quickly regained his composure and continued his slow approach.
"Hey there, little girl. I was just out here looking for my dog. I think he went into these woods. Do you want to help me find him?" He was smiling at me now.
"What's your dog's name?" I asked.
"What?"
"Your dog's name. What is it? If I'm going to help you find him, I need to shout his name."
"Oh, erm… yeah. His name is Fred." Was he surprised by my question, or had he hesitated because he'd needed to make up a name?
"Well, I'm kind of scared of dogs. I think I'm just going to go home. Sorry I can't help you."
"Can I at least walk you home? Which way are you headed? It's dark out here and not safe for little girls like you."
He was edging ever closer to me now and had a big, creepy smile plastered across his face.
"I live just on the other side of these woods. Trust me, I can make it just fine."
"I'd still like to walk with you if that's OK. I mean, I'm sure my dog is in there somewhere." His icy blue eyes were laser-focused on mine now. It almost felt like he was trying to hypnotically control me with his gaze.
"If you really think Fido is in there, I guess you should look for him."
"Fido is a crazy old mutt," he said, "I'm sure I will find him in there."
There is no dog.
This man definitely means trouble.
Time to take action.
I turned and started running into the words. While I had a couple of seconds head start on him, the fact is that the body of a 13-year-old girl can't run as fast as a fully grown man. He caught up with me ridiculously fast, so quickly, in fact, that we were still within view of the road. The street lamp gave off enough light for us to be seen by a passerby if one were to approach.
"What did you run off for?" he asked, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Sorry, mister, I just got scared at the thought of your dog running around in here. I got bitten by something pretty nasty when I was younger and the thought of it happening again freaks me out."
"OK, I understand. Let's keep walking, and I'll keep you safe from any stray dogs. Hey, are you hungry? I have some food I could share with you. Let's find a nice place to sit down and eat."
"What do you have?" I was kind of hungry, as it happened.
"Delicious homemade spaghetti and Bolognese sauce. Let's go a bit further into the woods, and then I'll share it with you."
He didn't have a bag with him, and there was no way he was hiding some container full of food in his pockets. This was bullshit.
"Erm, no thanks mister. My elders say I'm allergic to garlic, so I shouldn't eat Italian food."
"OK then. Let's just keep walking." His heart rate was increasing, and the adrenaline was kicking in. I could smell the excitement oozing from his pores. "Here, let me hold your hand. You will be safer that way."
He didn't wait for me to respond, grabbing my hand in his clammy grip. He was a strong one, it was apparent. There was no way a regular girl of my height and frame would be able to escape this bastard. We walked on and were soon far away from any streetlight, and any semblance of safety. Soon, things were going to take a turn very much for the worse. He clearly sensed this, too, letting go of my hand and standing in front of me to block the path.
The disingenuous smile had gone now: "OK little lady, fun time is over. Well, for you anyway. My fun is just about to begin." He withdrew a set of handcuffs from his pocket and dangled them in front of my face.
"I seriously fucking doubt that, Johnny."
This was the part that I always loved the most: the look of utter shock on these assholes' faces when I first call them by their name. I'd seen it dozens of times before, and it never grew old. Now, for the next part: he’ll be rocked back for a few seconds before trying to reassert his authority.
"Wait… what? How did you know…"
I didn't let him finish his question: "Johnny Mutton. Pedophile, rapist and child killer. We've been tracking you for a while." Damn, he looked stupid, still dangling those cuffs in front of him. "Guess what? We found you."
Just watching the cogs of a regular human's brain slowly turn was not my favorite part of this whole game, though. 'C'mon, work it out already. Then you can pretend it doesn't matter, that you’re the boss here, and we can get down to business.'
"Well, I don't give a fuck what you think you know." Oh good, the bravado had returned. It was always more fun when they still thought they had the upper hand. "I'm still going to torture you, rape you and then leave little pieces of you scattered all over this forest."
Again, with the dangling handcuffs. What was wrong with this shithead?
"Which hand should we start with? You want my left?"
The fucking shmuck had a look on his face like it was Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one. He advanced and roughly placed the handcuff around my left wrist.
"Things are going to get real ugly now, little lady." He was smirking; he genuinely believed he was still in control.
"At least we can agree on something. OK, jackass, let's get this over with."
I was going to make this quick. This piece of shit wasn't even worth toying with. I grabbed the other end of the cuffs and clasped it around his wrist; there was no way he was going to escape me now.
"What are you doing, kid? You think that's…"
I jumped up and sank my fangs deep into his neck. I would feast on him later, but for now, ripping out half of his jugular would lead to a suitably painful death. I climbed off of him and spat out the chunk of flesh onto the ground in front of him. In his shocked state, he actually bent down and tried to pick it up, as though that would fix his lethal wound. I wasn't going to allow this sick bastard even that tiny crumb of false hope, though, and dragged him away, into the middle of the clearing.
"Any last words, Johnny?"
This was a little cruel of me, what with the fact that this asshole was choking to death on his own blood. I didn't have much sympathy, though. He let out a pathetic gurgling sound, looking up at me pleadingly.
"Sorry, didn't catch that."
He was as white as a sheet now and not long for this world; time to monologue.
"You guys just don't put in the effort any more. I mean, for fuck's sake, I only got into town last night. I was obviously indisposed during the daylight hours, meaning I know you had zero time to prep this. Damn, I remember the old days when sick fucks like you would at least put in the effort. You know, a couple of weeks of following your victim, regular drive-bys, watching the home through binoculars, learning the names of friends. But you? You just spotted me and decided there and then to act on your impulses. Fucking pathetic. It didn't even occur to you how dumb it would be for a girl to be walking through the woods on her own? It took me less than two minutes to lure you in here."
His breathing was extremely labored now. He had moments left.
"OK, fair enough. Nobody expects one of our kind to look the way I do. But hey, like I said, you should've put in the legwork. Goodbye, Johnny."
And with that, I decided to feast. It always tastes better when they're still alive, even if only just.

TW: mentions of SA Throwaway account
I (22F) broke a friendship with my friend, Marie, (22F) due to something her BF ,Matt (21M) did in middle school . Marie and I have been friends since freshman year of HS and we have honestly never had problems or fights. Even when she introduced me to Matt I didn’t have a problem with him. He seemed like genuinely nice person and I was happy for Marie because they seemed like the average in love couple.
This leads me to a few months ago when I was informed by a friend that Matt SA his ex GF in middle school so around the ages of 13-14 years old. Obviously alarmed by this information I decided sit down and ask Marie if she knew this information about Matt and whether she was still comfortable dating him. To my shock she told me she already knew this information and that she believes Matt has changed and grown since then. Matt had never SA or in anyway had made uncomfortable sexually advances towards Marie. He also never made uncomfortable advances towards me or other friends, but even so I felt completely sick.
I understand my friends perspective obviously we grow a lot as people from the age of 13 to your late 20’s but I in my right conscience could not be able to forgive his behavior nor my friends for hiding this from me. Especially as something as serious as SA. In my opinion I feel like my friends put mine and also her safety in jeopardy by bringing him in her life.
I ultimately decided to cut Marie and Matt off and went no contact with both,but recently I have been feeling shitty about the decision. I’m still mourning the loss of a friendship over something that happened in middle school during a time I didn’t even know this person. At the same time I’d rather be safe then sorry when it comes to something as serious as that. I just overall feel very conflicted and emotional about it, a part of me wishes I never knew so I could carry on being blissfully ignorant.
So am I the buttface?
TLDR: I found out my friends bf SA someone in middle school and she knew. I decided to break off our friendship, but I feel very emotionally conflicted

Starting 1st Month 7114 AL (After the Landing)/Year 6 of the rule of King Artys VIII. Arryn

The Eyrie

Floorplan of the Eyrie and the mountain below
Various additional information, including the Eyrie residents
The Eyrie is a unique castle, built of white stone on top of the mountain Giant's Lance. It is quite small, especially compared to seats of other Great Houses, and considered impregnable due to its location. The castle consists of seven main towers, each with a different purpose.
Summons and Petitions Thread
Previous Eyrie Open RP Thread
Dragonstone Open RP Thread
The Vale Calendar

Meta

Teleportation is currently allowed in the Vale, so feel free to stop by - but make sure to come in properly:
To get to the Eyrie, one must pass first the older castle, Gates of the Moon, and then navigate along a narrow mountain path through the three Waycastles, Stone, Snow and Sky, before finally arriving to the castle of House Arryn.
The journey can be RP'd, or doesn't have to be, but the appropriate people must be tagged.
Gates of the Moon: GreaterBlueEvil & t3m3rair3
Waycastles:
Stone: [WAYNWOOD]
Snow: GreaterBlueEvil
Sky: [WINGED KNIGHTS]
Eyrie (Crescent Chamber in Warrior's Tower): GreaterBlueEvil & lagiacrus2012
Only 10 MaA can be allowed into GoTM, no MaA can be allowed into the Eyrie. This doesn't apply if specifically given exception.
Access to Moon Tower, Smith's Tower and Maiden Tower is restricted to those actually residing in these towers. The Mountain Below is generally not accessible to visitors.
Arryn household guards (wearing sky blue cloaks) and Winged Knights (wearing white cloaks with stripes in the colour corresponding with their rank, and winged helmets) man the castle and protect the residents.
Rookery use is possible, but requires Arryn permission.

Arryn PCs

King Artys VIII. Arryn (36)

The Eyrie
The monarch of the Vale, more comfortable on the throne as years go by. He had learned to rely on his advisors and his closest family in managing the affairs of the Kingdom, and once again found time for some more entertaining pursuits.

Crown Prince Aladore Arryn (16)

The Eyrie
The heir to the Kingdom. Quiet and pensive boy, Aladore prefers books to people, and does not enjoy the attention that comes with his prominent position.

Alisabeth Arryn (13)

The Eyrie
Young girl, first daughter of the King. Feels a little forgotten amongst her siblings, and often wonders whether she is invisible. Likes to paint.

Alysanne Arryn (10)

The Eyrie
Little girl, second daughter of the King. Cheerful and attention-seeking, and the favourite of her father. Collects crowns, or aspires to.

Oswell Arryn (6)

The Eyrie
Little boy, second son of the King. Named after Queen Myranda's father, he has a big legacy to live up to.

Ambrose Arryn (34)

The Eyrie
The King's younger brother, raised to follow and aid the eldest. Doing what he can for the Kingdom, taking up some of the duties of his brother and still hoping for a family of his own one day. Helping teach the Crown Prince.

Arwen Coldwater née Arryn (31)

Coldwater Burn
The only daughter of the late Queen Myranda, Arwen is a beautiful woman, stubborn and intelligent, ambitious, even ruthless if need be. Enjoying married life, Arwen is still most smitten with her husband, the charming Lord Criston Coldwater, and adores the pair's two children with all her heart.

Albar Arryn (21)

Heart's Home
Youngest of Myranda's children, Albar felt the loss of their mother the most. The boy focuses on playing his lute and taking care of his pet, a little red shoulder-bear called Scarlett. A squire to his cousin, the Lord Corbray, he is slowly learning how to be a knight, but his future plans include more dancing with bears than swordfighting.

Alyssa Arryn (54)

Tyrosh
Adventurous, rebellious and rainbow-haired, Alyssa lives in Tyrosh, having refused to return to Westeros to a life at court she hated and husband she felt no love for. Instead, she lives with her lover, Lucas Ruthermont, and the only thing she regrets is the time away from her elder children, Shiera and Friedrich.
Or perhaps at some point, a mysterious woman by the name of Nalyssa could be found in Westeros, for whatever occasion that might happen. She is, however, most definitely Not Alyssa.

Shiera Durrandon (34)

Borrowed character
Dragonstone
Daughter of Alyssa and Monfryd Durrandon. Adventurous and free like her mother, Shiera dreads growing old or having to act her age. Currently spending time on Dragonstone along with her best friend Meera Grandison. Shiera loves animals and bright colours and despises the very idea of marriage. The only relationship worth keeping is friendship... even if it feels like something more. She has a very grumpy cat named Barracuda and a brightly coloured parrot she taught to say "Help, I was turned into a bird!"

Alfrid Arryn (40)

The Eyrie
The only son of Osric Arryn, Alfrid is deeply religious, and strives to prove himself in the eyes of Gods and men, as a knight, and as man of the Seven. He had married lady Lorra Templeton, though still couldn't rid himself of thoughts of another... Which led to some rather curious consequences.
SCC'd by garintheadequate

Mylenda Arryn (10)

The Eyrie
Daughter of Alfrid Arryn and his wife Lorra. Little girl, talkative and bright.

Myrielle Arryn (10)

The Eyrie
Child of Alfrid Arryn and his lover, Cassandra Bracken. The girl was passed off as a trueborn daughter of Alfrid and his wife, as a twin to Mylenda. She is the gloomier of the twins, with a more negative attitude and a fear of animals.

Alicent Royce née Arryn (36)

Runestone
Married to her complicated love, Royland Royce, and fiercely protective of her young Royce sisters, Alicent is doing what she can to help Lady Ayla with rulership, and lady Eugenie with courtship - one appearing significantly more problematic than the other. Raising her little daughters Roslin and Rowena, she wishes that Royland would stay in Runestone with them, or at least accept her choices that led to the pair leading their lives apart.

Amallia Corbray née Arryn (34)

Heart's Home
Once wild and rebellious, Amallia seems to have settled down with her marriage to Lord Lyonel Corbray, content to protect and raise their two sons and little daughter. After the loss of her first child, she is ultimately grateful that her children are safe and healthy.

Aveline Grandison née Arryn (31)

Grandview
Beautiful and kind-hearted, Aveline might not be the brightest, but she does her utmost to bring light and cheer wherever she goes. Married to Beric Grandison, she couldn't be any happier - what more could she ever want for than having a loving husband and two wonderful children? A part of her little family is also her dog, Socks, named for a fondness of chewing people's clothes, and Periwinkle, the stubborn and finicky cat.

Garrick Arryn (70)

The Eyrie
Feeling the effects his advanced age is taking, not even his wife and children seem to make Garrick feel any better. His children were all grown now, soon to be married and gone from his life, and what then? He spends more time with his sister Cynthea, reminiscing of the old times and people long gone.

Septa Cynthea (34)

Oldtown?
The only child of Garrick from his first marriage, Cynthea the Younger was sent to the Starry Sept in Oldtown when she was ten, and had since taken her vows upon the Seven-Pointed Star as a Septa of the Faith.

Helena Prester née Arryn (28)

Feastfires
Eldest daughter of Garrick and his second wife, Helena is a confident young woman, stubborn and determined. Married to Triston Prester - a man she chose against the wishes of her family - she struggles between the girl she used to be, and the woman she is now, or at least that she feels she should be. The duties of a wife and a mother don't sit so well with her, even though she loves her two small children dearly.

Jeyne Arryn (27)

The Eyrie
Daughter of Garrick Arryn and Andrea Talon. Beautiful and curiously still unmarried.
Borrowed by banterisdrunk

Andrew Arryn (24)

White HarbouThe Paps?
Son of Garrick Arryn and Andrea Talon, doted on by both his parents. Squire to Ser Jayce Manderly, and perhaps visiting a certain island off the Vale's coast?

Cynthea Harroway née Arryn (69)

The Eyrie
The Dowager Lady of Harroway's Town is a kind, loving woman, who enjoys baking sweets and playing the harp. She cares dearly about her children and her grandchildren and various other kin, family always being the light of her life.

Waltyr Harroway (50)

Borrowed character
Winterfell
Waltyr travelled around the world only to find that what he desired most was home and family, which he found with the Princess Sylvia Stark. He couldn't be happier, married and with twin children.

Lucas Stark (Harroway) (15)

Winterfell
Waltyr and Sylvia's son, twin of Lily. Training with a sword, though he is still letting his blond locks grow long, and diligently shaving the few whiskers sprouting on his upper lip. It is getting harder to look like his twin sister (and best friend), but that doesn't stop him from trying.

Anastasia Manderly née Harroway (49)

Borrowed character
White Harbour
A beautiful woman in her youth, Anastasia finds it difficult to make peace with the fact that she is getting older, and her children are growing up so fast. She is content with her husband, Ser Jayce Manderly, and most of all wishes for more time with her family.

Alysia Harroway (31)

The Eyrie
The youngest child of Cynthea Arryn and Howland Harroway had never known her father, growing up in the Eyrie after her mother and siblings escaped from Lord Harroway's Town. She is raised as a noble lady of the Vale, serving as lady in waiting to the royal Princess Arwen Arryn.
SCC'd by dbone256

Meredyth Arryn (61)

Sunspear
The life of Meredyth Arryn was never short of dramatic twists and turns. After eloping with the love of her life who also happened to be the Crown Prince of Dorne, Meredyth gave birth in secret to his daughter. Forced to fake her death to escape the arrangements her family had planned for her, Meredyth watched over young Alarra under the guise of a mysterious Septa Marissa. When terrible news came about the death of Nymor, she had to suffer in silence. But when the time was right, Princess Meredyth Arryn re-emerged triumphantly from the shadows as she appeared at the court of Sunspear in the company of the heiress to Dorne, Alarra 'Silverdove' - or, as she is now known, Her Radiance Nymeria Nymeros Martell.

Sharra Arryn (49)

Starfall
The only legitimate child of Prince Benedict Arryn, Sharra keeps many secrets, involved in an elaborate life-long scheme by her aunt Alerie. Former regent to her daughter, the convenient rightful ruler of Dragonstone, Sharra spends much time with her close companion and secret lover, Alayne Hunter, in their new home in the far South of Westeros.

Rhea Targaryen (30)

Dragonstone
The Princess of Dragonstone took over her lands after the Vale's conquest. Presumed daughter of Sharra Arryn and Jaerys Targaryen, she rules the Island as her father's rightful heir. Married to her love, Nymos Dayne, who provides invaluable support as the young woman tries to balance the tasks of a ruler and a mother.

Jaenara Targaryen (10)

Dragonstone/Eyrie
Daughter of Rhea and Nymos, heiress to Dragonstone. Owner of a blue-and-silver dragon egg that used to belong to her mother, and to her grandfather before that. Bright and inquisitive little girl. Staying in the Eyrie to learn about life at the Arryn court.

Daenys Targaryen (8)

Dragonstone
Daughter of Rhea and Nymos. Owner of a violet-and-gold dragon egg.
Played by House Dayne of High Hermitage, ranger_from_th_north

Marq Arryn (55)

The Eyrie
A promising tourney knight in his youth, Marq's life was marked by misfortune and tragedy. He loves his wife and sons deeply, seeing them as his anchor in the storm of circumstances, but he still feels a crushing amount of guilt for the pain he caused, especially since his wife almost died giving birth to their second son. An excellent warrior - one of the best on the entire Continent - though he takes little pride or comfort in that skill, and rarely ever enters tournaments anymore.

Rupert Arryn (28)

The Eyrie
Marq's firstborn son, struggling to live up to the shining example of his sire and eager for his approval. Rupert had already proven himself capable in melees and jousts, and recently he was knighted and bestowed the right to bear the Valyrian sword Iridescence, and take his father's mantle as the famed Iridescent Knight.

Yoel Arryn (24)

The Eyrie
Second son of Marq Arryn and Ysilla Royce. Somewhat socially inept, but close with his elder brother.
Borrowed by thinkbrigger

Alannys Manderly née Arryn (54)

The Eyrie/White Harbour
Identical twin of Alerie, she was always the wilder, more adventurous of the sisters. Alannys was knighted at her wedding (by her husband, no less), and with Loras by her side she had gone through a multitude of adventures. She holds a resentment for her brother Marq for being respected for his prowess where she needs to hide. However, after her husband's death in the battle of Dragonstone, she had not quite been herself, her strong spirit nearly broken with the love of her life lost forever.

Alerie Waxley née Arryn (54)

The Eyrie
Identical twin of Alannys, Alerie is the more delicate of the sisters. Deaf, but sharp of mind, Alerie was able to find her niche, prospering in the shadows and manipulating events of the world without being seen behind the schemes. She is married to Willam Waxley, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, and cares for their son, whom she considers the perfect little boy, though she worries he will grow apart from her as he grows older. In addition to manipulating the events of the world, she also found herself able to control animals to a certain degree, and works to gain more control of this ability.

Harold Arryn (40)

The Eyrie
Eldest son of Luceon Arryn and his second wife. Functioning alcoholic and once a child soldier, Harold is maybe a little disappointed he didn't die in any war. Married to lady Jowenna Egen, Harold might be starting to find a place for himself in the world with the help of his wife and children.

Alaric Arryn (38)

Longbow Hall
A knight in service to House Hunter, Alaric had forgone his royal title to marry a girl by the name of Sybell, a commonborn daughter of a merchant, whom he had loved dearly ever since he saved her from some bandits many years ago. Serving as a Marshal in Longbow Hall, he is determined to earn his place.

Matthos Arryn (33)

Eyrie
Formerly warded in the Stormlands, Matthos returned to the Eyrie to marry lady Alyssa Azure. He was not happy with the arranged match and the control the head of House Arryn exerts over his life, but he does genuinely care for his wife and their little daughters.

Argella Arryn (4)

Eyrie
Daughter of Matthos and Alyssa, little girl.

Aemma Arryn (1)

Daughter of Matthos and Alyssa, little girl.

Alester Arryn (32)

The Eyrie
Lonely, stubborn and somewhat spiteful towards his family. Married to Mya Finch, but in love with her brother, Ser Mychel.

Martyn Arryn (28)

Feastfires
The youngest of Luceon's many children, he is perhaps the only one to have truly loved and respected their father. Squire to a western knight, he is not quite sure where his home lays and where he would feel at peace.

Petyr Stone (38)

Dragonstone
Former squire to Prince Marq Arryn, who tried to remedy his older brother's misdeeds, now a promising warrior and a knight in his own right. Petyr serves as the Captain of Guards on Dragonstone.
SCC'd by klrpizza

Arielle Stone (35)

Eyrie?
Daughter of Prince Benedict Arryn and Gwen Storm. Sent to Strongsong to be raised and tutored by lady Ursula Belmore, along with her half-sister Deidre. Astonishingly beautiful and appropriately arrogant. Occasionally following around her aunt Alerie.
Played by House Toyne, principality_of_pan

Beric 'Blackmoon' Storm (33)

Grandview
Son of Prince Benedict Arryn and Gwen Storm. Benedict was unaware of his existence, as Gwynevere left him before he could learn she was pregnant. The boy lived in Braavos with his mother, terrified of her drunken excesses, before lady Lucinda Grandison saved him and took him with her.
SCC'd by ranger_from_th_north

Elyse Greywing (29)

Winterfell
Daughter of Benedict Arryn and Olivia Prester. Utterly disappointed by her mother, she and her brother Edrick had ran away from their family, and found refuge on Bear Isle in service to Queen Talia Stark. They followed Talia to Winterfell, only to be kept there for reasons they don't quite understand. What is even happening in her life these days, where is she heading?

Celene Featherfield (29)

Grandview
Daughter of Benedict Arryn and Margret Snow, a Woolfield bastard, though legitimised through the kindness of House Grandison. Celene stays in Grandview and learns from her aunt what it means to be a proper lady. Close friends with Edmund Prester, a person who shows her kindness not usually seen towards one of illegitimate birth.

Nathaniel Stone (26)

Dragonstone
Son of Benedict Arryn and Ella Ryston, along with his cousin Alec Stone sent to Gates of the Moon to be raised after his mother joined the Silent Sisters. Formerly squire to Ser Petyr Stone, whom he admires greatly, Nathan was recently knighted for his service.

Vorian Blackstone (26)

Gulltown
Son of Benedict Arryn and Cissy Blackstone. Staying in Gulltown with his mother.
Played by lagiacrus2012

Myranda Blackstone (24)

Gulltown
Daughter of Benedict Arryn and Cissy Blackstone. Somewhat rude and blunt, Myranda is taking after her mother in many ways.

Steffon Storm (18)

Grandview
Last of Benedict's bastards, son of the Stormlander lady Joy Redaxe. Staying in Grandview with his mother.

TW / / /: Mentions of r*pe scenarios
Ok for a short introduction, i'm a high schooler, male, and currently not sexually active with anyone and there have just been so many instances with this dumb shit between me and my ndad, and what's worse is that this is just one of many problems between me and him. Fits the bill for being emotionally abuse, and he's very exhausting and draining.
For this specific topic, the first thing I remember which could've truly amped up this whole thing was going to my first school dance as a Soph. It was informal, the friday after the first week, ndad dropped me off there and I had a ton of fun there with everyone. Got in the dance circle a few times, did some voguing moves, legs got tired, scraped knee a bit while doing a few moves, didn't think anything of it. Absolutely no funny business occurred
Got home, I was mad tired, disinfected the scrape and slapped a bandaid on it, slept like i was dead to the world. Next day, ndad sees the bandaid, I say I scraped my knee doing a few dance moves, has obvious look of doubt, and begins interrogating me about like- literally everything that happened. He then went on and on about how he saw the dance circle and how everyone around it looked suspicious and had a certain look on their face, he said that the people that greeted me looked suspicious too (they were my fucking friends happy to see me lmfao).
My ndad is extremely stubborn with his ideas, and has persisted with a constant narrative that I'm like, the school harlot or some shit. This has made me scared to introduce him to any of my friends out of fear he'll begin interrogating and intimidating them.
There happened to be a COVID outbreak at the school, and I told my dad I should get tested because one of my friends got COVID and I shared a class with them. Even when I mentioned this friend in passing, my ndad began to instantly question me about who they were, what grade they were in, what club they were in, how "close" am I with them, etc. and me feeling like I was obligated to answer every question...stupidly answered every single question. I told ndad they were a senior, and I'm guessing that really got him going because then he was like "i'll have to drop by the school and personally ask why a senior is friends with my son." (...bro, fucking what???
Can I not have friends who aren't in my immediate grade level? I'm friends with people in the grades below me, so is it wrong for them to be friends with me?)
I find out in later months that ndad's been texting my (thankfully non-awful) mom about his suspicions, and she sent receipts of his texts where he created this whole wack-ass narrative that i'm being sexually abused by this senior friend, which explained why I was walking funnily after school one day. (For context, P.E was grueling, legs were tired, heavy ass backpack, and having P.E as one of the first classes of the day absolutely stinks.)
This same scenario also repeated pretty recently after some city event. It was nearly finished, i was pretty tired and was chatting with some friends in this little after-party. I apparently butt dialed ndad, he picked up and spoke, but i didn't hear him. So he hung up, then he called back and i responded. ndad said he was waiting to pick me up, and then after a long uncomfy silence he starts interrogating me again. I feel obligated to tell him everything like a plum fool and wouldn't you know it, i'm friends with another senior! A new scapegoat for some wackjob scenario for ndad to make up in his head, when all i was doing was talking and eating at the concessions stand. Now i'm 99.9% he thinks that because of the audio he heard when I butt dialed him, I was being r*ped by this other Senior friend???
One insanely hurtful moment was during an argument between me and ndad where he got close to my face and yelled about how one time i had walked in the car and my mouth had "smelled like DICK. D-I-C-K. DICK." That's the first fucking thing his damn mind went to. Not "you need a breath mint." Not "what'd you eat for lunch?" not "did you brush your teeth?" Immediately went to "my son gave someone head during school today."
It was after that argument where we both agreed to find a therapist, and I would thankfully get to leave with my mom to stay w/ her downstate for a week, but as SOON as i get back, and not even an hour into my return, he sees that I tied my shirt at the waist. It was hot outside, and the shirt was 2 sizes too big which ndad insisted upon for no reason. It's in the car when we're going off to the store where he compares me to an animal in heat where I'm trying to be promiscuous and flirtatious purposefully, and that I'll only attract all the weirdos in our town, and finally my grandma would beat my ass if she saw something like that...several red flags in that interaction alone. What about that oh so glorious therapist we had agreed on? Well he had searched for one (like 3 months later) he told me about her and how the therapy would work...and he proceeded to never bring her up again. Now isn't that pretty telling?
Every suspicion related to me supposedly being sexually active at school has kept going, to the point where almost every week ndad would ask in the car if i'm being harrassed, i would firmly say no out of annoyance and frustration, and then he's just scrunch up his face and frown and go "okay. okay. I believe you." (Hint: he doesn't)
He genuinely believes he's trying to help me, but no matter how many times i say "no i haven't" it almost feels like he wants to hear me say I have. He said he'd get a Private Investigator, police involvement, lie detectors, which i'm 80%-sure they're empty threats. He's also tried to chisel into my brain that nobody can be trusted, and that he's the only one who genuinely cares for me in our town. It is REALLY feeling like he wants an excuse to prove I was wrong about my friends and that "i told you that you cant trust everyone."
Luckily for me, i've secretly went to my school counselor every week for therapy until the end of this year to try working through and rationalizing these issues, talking with my mom about what i can do in these 2 years i have left before I turn an adult. I can't go to live with her, as easy as that may sound. At some point I know I've got to fully stand up to this, but I'm scared of what'll happen if i do. I've gotten electronics taken away in the past, but somewhat recently I had been threatened with holding painful positions or even getting paddled. Thoughts?
TL:DR Father's issues with paranoia, pessimism, and anxiety lead to the persistent and false belief of me being sexually active at school, and even worse the falser belief of me being a victim of rape and hiding it to protect the abuse. Help :,D

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“Are you sure about this?” Comms called through the short-wave, Willin’s headset crackling only slightly louder than the pouring rain. It was distorted and covered the timbre of his voice, but it worked.
He checked the batteries on his guns, both pistol and rifle topped off. The pistol was secured into the holster on his hip, the rifle slung across his chest over the heat-plate designed to dissipate any plasma that might hit it. His armour wouldn’t do the best against kinetic armaments—it was never designed to go against a railgun—but military personnel were rarely given those anyway. Too inefficient.
“As sure as I can be,” he replied, checking his harness. Two spare batteries, four ration packs, water, the transmitter that fed into his headset, some assorted tools for unlikely scenarios, and a knife tucked into his boot. The footwear was typically used for traversing hostile environments or boarding operations—the material thick and cumbersome—but it worked just fine for him. He had gotten used to wearing it.
He opted not to bother with the helmet. It would limit his senses in a place like this, the EW field making even the most basic function disorienting. Tech adjusted the physical scope on her rifle, though her favourite weapons were the two Compact Anti-personnel and Rapid Discharge systems she had attached to her hips—the CARDs being designed to switch between rapid-shot clusters to suppress a wide area, and a single-fire mode better suited to more precise requirements. The larger weapon was mostly for show—there was hardly a reason to carry an Anti-Material Rifle to begin with—but it didn’t hurt to counter possible armour.
The purple-furred female’s true weaponry rested both on and under her armour, her augments and the equipment linked to them making her a mobile Electronic Warfare platform. Though much of her abilities would be limited in scope here, she was still more than capable of supporting him. He would be relying on her to dissuade any action against them, as well as using her modifications to keep them in the loop.
She looked like an oddly-coloured female, but she was closer to a walking EMP and scanner rolled into one.
“Short-wave is stable, if a bit distorted,” Willin continued, flicking some of the water off his fur. “Tech will try to keep the signal clean, but no promises. Comms, Nav, you two are keeping the craft warm and ready.”
“Understood, Leader,” Nav replied, their androgynous voice warbling slightly. “Estimated time-frame?”
“Long enough for you two to figure out the ration-packets.”
Comms laughed over the headset. “Nav would rather lick the floors.”
“Just don’t get too distracted with each other while we’re gone,” Willin teased through his smirk, Tech rolling her eyes at him.
“The same could be said for you, Leader. Don’t get too caught up making ‘friends’ with the locals.”
“Or Tech,” Nav added dryly. Their tone hovering between annoyance at the jibes regarding Comms and Nav’s occasional fling, and amusement at the suggestion Tech was interested in pursuits of the flesh with the crew at all. She might be, but she had a habit of dropping the thermostat of whichever room belonged to whoever made the comment, so it was safer to just assume she was off-limits.
“Cold room,” Tech responded casually as she adjusted her audio interface, Nav sighing loud enough for it to be picked up. Comms laughed in a way that suggested he was thankful for Tech’s assistance in ensuring Nav would be seeking a warm bed for the moon. Willin shook his head, hoping that they didn’t need to extract in any particular hurry.
It was easier to get in the air when your two remaining crew weren’t otherwise occupied.
“Batteries green. Supplies green. Short-wave sufficient,” he reported, receiving confirmations from Tech. “Operation is to establish communication with local Grand Hunter and receive compliance, information on other packs, and facilitate reintroduction to structure.”
“Alternative is to report pack as non-compliant and pursue other Grand Hunters,” Tech added, repeating what they went over earlier. “My augments are heavily limited, but we should be able to deal with it.”
“Are you sure that you two can manage hostilities?” Comms asked, his voice faltering slightly. Though they had been assigned to the scout craft at random, they had grown rather close as a unit over their time. If it wasn’t for the professional obligations prohibiting it, they might have all decided to move into a den together—they were that intimately familiar with each other. As it was, they would likely be reassigned to serve elsewhere after their current mission was complete.
Such was the life of those like them.
“Tech has more equipment under her fur than our ship has installed—weakened or not,” Willin assured the male. He shot a pointed look at the female. “She’s also under direct order to return in the event things become too dangerous. Alone, if required.”
Tech scowled, but nodded anyway. Comms grunted their understanding. “Leader?”
“Yeah?”
A moment of pause. “Nothing. Come back, okay?”
“Will do my best, Comms. Nav, keep an eye on him.”
“It will be done, Leader. Stay safe.”
He placed a paw to his headset, hovering over the button to cut the transmission. “You too.”
“Ready to go?” Tech asked, slinging her AMR over her back and re-securing her CARDs. Willin double checked his auxiliary equipment, hoping that he didn’t need to use any of it. Nodding, he gestured for her to follow, the two leaving behind the craft to slip into the woods.
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“Something up?” he asked, raising a brow at Tech. The female was fidgety, restless and scanning their surroundings more than required. She might have heard something, but the thunderous hiss of rain drowned out most everything—it was part of the reason they waited for it.
She wore a reluctant expression, her eyes flickering to the silver and gold trees for a moment. “Prox’ is going wild.”
“Proximity sensor effected?” he queried, feeling the weight of his weapons tug on his body. Tech nodded.
“It’s weak. I think the ‘spike is messing with it—along with everything else—but it’s reporting…a lot.”
“Moving?”
She shook her head, a paw twitching over a CARD. “Not until we go past them.”
He joined her in looking around, shaking off water uselessly. “Wildlife?”
“This stealthy?”
Willin shrugged. “The message mentioned that it was different.”
“Details would have been nice,” she grumbled in return, waving her paw to get him moving again, though she kept one on her weapon.
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“Visual,” he reported, lowering the rifle from his shoulder. “Anything?”
Tech shook her head, still on a swivel. “Prox’ is still lit up, but at this point it might be less distracting to shut it off.”
“Keep it. Rather have it telling us things are around all the time than miss something big because we got annoyed.”
She sighed, tapping her audio interface twice to change the song she had playing. “What do you see?”
“Low fences, but dense buildings. Lots of traffic despite the weather. Looks like they’re used to it. Think they know we’re here?”
“Doubt it. Gear?”
He shouldered his weapon to look through the scope. “No guns, but lots of melee. Armour seems to be a mix of leather and metal. Can’t say what kind.”
Tech pulled her AMR to look, Willin shifting to keeping lookout. “No guns…” She shot him a look. “I’m not sure if that’s reassuring, or worrying.”
He shrugged. “The less I need to get shot at with, the better.”
“The goal is to not give them reason to.”
“Well, I can’t be perfect all the time.”
Tech laughed, the banter easing her nerves. “You’d have to start, Leader.”
With a roll of his eyes, he patted her shoulder with the back of his paw. “Let’s get moving. Diplomacy doesn’t do itself.”
The purple-furred female sighed, likely biting back another quip as she nodded.
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It went better than expected. So far, anyway.
They had approached the settlement proper, received what could be described as a ‘lukewarm’ welcome, then were told to follow several Lilhuns donning black leather and far too many daggers. Their escorts kept a close eye on the guns that they brought, but no one had made any comments about them yet. It was encouraging, but also worrying.
“Still nothing?” he muttered, quiet enough to not be heard by the others, but loud enough for Tech. She seemed hesitant, glancing over to one of the taller structures as they passed through, but gave a subtle shrug.
“Static is messing with my augments,” she grumbled. “Could be none, could be a few snipers. I can’t tell.”
He exhaled heavily. It was a bit of a blessing that her modifications were working at all, but it was easy enough to see that she felt bare without all the little tweaks she had gotten used to.
Willin never actually got the chance to learn all the tricks she was capable of—it was against policy to ask and she never saw fit to talk about it—but of the ones he did know; her proximity sensor, jammer, and ship integration were her favourites.
It was hard to board her ship if she knew where you were, locked up your gun, then spaced the room you were in, all without closing her game. He was pretty sure she was disappointed that she had only gotten to do that once.
“New ones, the Grand Hunter will see you soon,” an escort informed them as they drew near the Atmospheric Entry Craft that acted as a den for the one they were here to meet. They didn’t know the name yet, nor were they given the chance to do more than say why they were there. He had gotten as far as saying he was from the United Military before the people welcoming them scurried off to get someone else.
He busied himself by inspecting the buildings leading up to the AEC, some being a respectable three floors. Newer constructions seemed to differ in method, the beams a charred ashen colour rather than the same odd silver wood. Why they had elected to burn the materials, he didn’t know, but it seemed to be what they decided to do.
A surprising amount of the population carried a curved stick over their shoulder, the ends tied together by a string. Some attached lengths of a similar material to their leathers, one end made with a small loop as it dangled. The catch they carried to what looked to be a hunter’s lodge suggested it was used during their hunting, but he couldn’t fathom how.
Dragging his attention from the crowd, he eyed the large shuttle.
The massive main doors looked to have been damaged, though a structure had been attached since, leaving the stuck-open entrance to seem less like the result of a hard landing. The gentle hum of the internal power generation was absent, the required energy for what was still working being drawn from large solar panels that had been installed into skylights in the ceiling. The cloud-laden weather dimmed the light that illuminated the inside, but it was serviceable enough. Whatever power was produced, it was being funnelled somewhere that wasn’t servicing the majority of the craft.
Wide halls were populated by Lilhuns and spotted with doorways, the majority propped open since they were programmed to shut in the event of a power outage, lest explosive decompression eject whomever was occupying the room—along with anyone nearby in the hallway, should they be so unlucky.
It was customized, that much was obvious. Several rooms that would have been sparsely populated with anything other than beds were instead modified into training rooms and gyms. Densely packed barracks contrasted against large storage areas filled with various goods, pelts and metal weapons lining various shelves. Newer accommodations had been installed for more of those curved staffs, smaller pointed sticks stacked in piles nearby.
They progressed deeper and deeper into the confines of the shuttle, the common sight of the local pack trickling away, none seeming to have business this far in. Gruffer and more observant Lilhuns became the only people they saw while the hallways narrowed into tighter quarters, what might have fit cargo vehicles now only allowing a few shoulder widths, doorways becoming less common. The wary eyes and darkened clothing paired with the occasional dyed fur of those they passed—black seeming to be the dominant colour.
“In here,” an escort grunted, jabbing their jaw towards an isolated door. A paw was held out as they tried to step forward. “Weapons.”
Tech’s paw twitched towards one of her CARDs, the act of Willin relinquishing his pistol and rifle stopping her from snapping it into rapid-fire and burning the air with plasma. She glared at him for a few seconds before doing the same, the escort smirking.
“You will have them returned. The Grand Hunter is not so desolate as to pilfer the possessions of those who come merely to speak.”
He wasn’t worried about it. The guns were coded to them and Tech could fry them if it came down to it. Well, he wasn’t sure if she could do it with the warp-spike messing with things, but the lock should be enough. The knife in his boot went unnoticed, so it wasn’t like he was completely unarmed anyway.
Tech followed suit, subtly glaring at him the whole time. He shrugged, there wasn’t much they could do about it. They were the ones seeking an audience with the most influential person here.
Satisfied, the escort pulled the door open, the quiet whirring of the unpowered servos accenting the air. They revealed a larger office adorned with little but the most base necessity, a wood and steel desk covered in papers, a chair seeming to be the only extravagant item within—though it was purely for the ergonomics, rather than any aesthetic reason—and the male sat upon it was leafing through a collection of documents while twirling an orange needle-like object in his paw.
The distinct lack of any guards to protect the Grand Hunter was surprising, but that took a back seat to the owner of the room.
Dark grey fur, a clouded eye that retained its sharpness, scars peeking beyond the confines of his leather clothing—the thick hides sporting metal scales sewn onto them. An ear flicked in their direction, the membrane cut at several points. He placed down his papers, leaning forward in his chair as he clasped his paws on the desk, a friendly smile donned that failed to convey anything but malice.
“Greetings, new ones,” the male offered in a cheery tone, the low rumble and gravelled texture of his voice carrying both humour and curiosity. He focused on Tech for a moment, his eyes narrowing over the affable expression before he regarded both of them equally. He gestured to the seating opposite of his desk some small distance away. Close enough to meet, yet far enough that it was made abundantly clear who was in charge.
Willin bowed his head politely, walking the distance and sitting where he was provided. Tech followed suit after a brief hesitation, her unfocused eyes snapping to him with frustration. His raised brow was met with a longer blink—her augments were reporting something that made no sense again.
“Now then,” the dark grey-furred male said, moving some of the documents on his desk to a stack. “What might bring you to me?”
“Forgive me, Grand Hunter…” Willin opened, prodding for a name.
The male simply maintained his attentive posture instead of providing. Willin adjusted his sleeve and decided it was more important to continue than dig for information that he could get by asking anyone who lived in the settlement.
“As for why we’re here; we represent the United Military, responding to a distress call. We have forwarded the request and were tasked with ascertaining the state of affairs before the fleets arrive to assist.”
The Grand Hunter nodded. “Yes, that much I could have surmised from your clothing alone.”
Tech raised a brow as the dark green-furred soldier forced a smile. “Of course. More specifically, we would like to speak with you about what you know of the others of your station, as well as discuss the reintegration of your pack.”
The smile of the grey-furred male widened. “You wish to make a deal?”
Tech’s gaze flickered to several points in the room, her brow furrowing as she jettisoned a huff in frustration. Willin took a moment to consider his plan of action, nodding when he didn’t see the harm.
“I believe we can come to an arrangement. Within reason, of course.”
The Grand Hunter chuckled as the needle he was playing with disappeared at a flick of his wrist. “Of course, of course. Deal, agreements, arrangements, contracts.” The emphasis on the final item tickled something in the back of Willin’s mind. “Itemize it. What do you seek of me? It is rather disorganized to ask without quantifying, no? So…messy.”
“We want information on the other packs. Who leads them, number of members, where their settlements are,” Tech stated tersely, ignoring the disapproving glance Willin gave. “We also need to work on integrating those packs back into the UM—preferably with yourself setting precedent.”
The male’s face grew thoughtful. “As well as forgiveness, though that will cost quite the amount.”
Willin frowned. “Forgiveness? For not knowing your name?”
The Grand Hunter returned a blank stare, a dangerous grin spreading slowly. “Tell me, new ones, do you know of Avalon?”
Tech’s face hardened, her answer slow and cautious. “We do, though only through description.”
The male’s voice fell low. Quiet, yet powerful. His elbows on the table suddenly felt like a far greater threat than any armament. “Do you know the debt your superiors have incurred?”
“I don’t believe we have even had the chance to introduce ourselves,” Willin interjected, noticing Tech’s discomfort, her eyes darting around the room nervously.
“You need not,” the Grand Hunter remarked smugly. “You are forbidden from giving your names, no? Locked behind titles of station, merged and scattered at the whims of your masters. Soldiers who do not exist, yet sit within my office.”
Tech pawed for a CARD, forgetting that she had been disarmed at the door. Willin felt the weight of his knife pull on his boot. The male chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.
“But, given that you did not flee, I will give the benefit of the doubt regarding the debt. Though, it will make offering you more than your lives difficult.”
“What debt?” Willin pressed, receiving a flippant wave of the male’s paw.
“It matters not. I have more pressing matters than hearing why I should join the ranks of that which I supersede.”
“Matters such as?”
The Grand Hunter raised a brow. “You are being given the opportunity to leave whole, new one. I advise you to accept.”
Willin shook his head, ignoring Tech’s pointed look. “We need information. From the message we received, not everyone is as well off as you, and we intend to amend that. What can we trade for it?”
The male clasped his paws over his stomach, passively humouring them. “What do you offer? You may seek the details of the others, but I am not inclined to merely supply it.”
“Supplies, priority cooperation when the UM arrives.”
A chortle sounded out. “We are self sufficient. Such matters little.”
“Is there anything you would want?”
The Grand Hunter smirked, placing a paw on the table as the other produced another needle—this one a more yellow hue, the specifics of its shape blurring as it spun between his claws. “Your superiors asked me a favour. Data. How far could they push the Lilhun body before ligaments broke, the mind following shortly after? How twisted can we shape the psyche of kits?”
The temperature of the room seemed to chill, a twitch of the male’s lips pulling his muzzle into a slight snarl.
“They sought my kit to participate, after a time. Unfortunately, her will aligned—despite my reservations. In return, she would be wiped from the records. Ephemeral, never having existed to begin with. Never suffering the whims of those who became drunk on sending my Blades to their end, never finding their other.” The gravel to his voice turned to broken glass. “Yet your betters violated the agreement. Broke the contract. They pulled her into your service, hid the fact from me, and had the gall to fabricate a story to coincide. Were it not for a particular series of favours I was owed, I would have been still planet-side in our system instead of here.”
The dark grey-furred male smirked, his demeanour relaxing. “It seems she has found what she sought. Without need for my meddling, at that. A shame, really. I had several competent males selected—those who could wield what she had become. Those who might give her what her blood-mother failed to gain.” He paused for a moment, a fraction of longing piercing through the scarred exterior. “Regardless, all I would have wanted has been gained. She is content, and I am crafting that which shall accept her when she is ready. Your military will only muddy that which I have achieved, were they to dig their claws into my work.”
“Their actions are separate from ours,” Willin countered, thankful that the impending conflict had seemingly resolved itself.
“Grand Hunter,” Tech addressed the male, an eye flicking to the ceiling for a fraction. “We were able to see that there are a fair number of settlements, but we need the information to do our job.”
“And your task would interfere with my own,” the grey-furred male reiterated, a polite—if bored—expression returned.
“What if we could ensure that it didn’t?”
The disinterest in the male’s eyes slipped into curiosity. “You seek to trade sovereignty for information? You hold such power?”
“We do,” Willin confirmed, surprised that Tech would offer. “Though you would be disregarding the support of the United Military, we could arrange an agreement of territory on this planet. It’s not as if we could populate the entirety of it within several of our lifetimes anyway.”
The Grand Hunter stared, each moment more uncomfortable than the last. Eventually, he smirked. “Information and the disregarding of the sins your betters inflicted upon me, for sovereignty…and a singular favour.”
“Favour?”
“Indeed,” he replied confidently, reaching into his desk to produce writing implements and paper. “You see, my kit has pledged herself to someone of curiosity. I thought him worthless. Weak. Yet he has performed a duty befitting her Sheath, and I suppose I should reward it.”
Scribbling ceased, impeccable penmanship crafting a contract that was slid forward on the tabletop. He continued after gesturing for Willin to approach.
“Seek him last, give him what information you have gathered, then heed his request,” the male said through his smirk. “I do so look forward to seeing what becomes of it.”
The dark green-furred male perused the document, stipulations and all finely articulated, as if the Grand Hunter lived and breathed transaction. A few points needed to be addressed, mostly possible abuse cases within the fine print, but it was surprisingly fair. There was some worry about the otherwise excessive cost of breaking the contract, but Willin figured that it would be reasonable enough considering the circumstances.
Signing, he gestured Tech to do the same as a witness, the two of them representing the UM for all intents and purposes. It was hardly the first time they had made agreements like this, though trading such a large area on a planet they held no prior influence on was a first.
The Grand Hunter confirmed the terms and conditions with them one last time, smiling when they both nodded.
“Good! Now, for what you seek.” The male rummaged through a few drawers, producing a series of papers that were lined over the desk towards them. “The non-aggression treaty, as well as what my Blades have observed from their scouting.”
Willin read over each, the documents sorted by Grand Hunter, then by who they had under them. His brow raised at a few reports, but questions could wait. The male seemed happy to let them read, so he wanted to take advantage of it. Tech scanned over everything when Willin was done, her augments allowing her to commit the information to a digital memory for future reference back on the ship.
“There are quite a few names marked with this,” Tech noted aloud, pointing to a symbol next to several of the Grand Hunters and their extended packs. The grey-furred male nodded.
“Those have been eliminated or subsumed.”
Willin frowned, parsing the documents again. Mi’low, Toril, and a few others were designated as such. Looking through, only about four seemed to be free of the distinction. He looked questioningly to the male, a grin returned with a separate stack of paper, titled with a single name.
Hasen.
The notation was rather dense, though not in information that Willin was expecting. Instead of settlements or High and Low Hunters, it was laden with mentions of those belonging to the previously marked Grand Hunters. His eyes widened as he connected the dots.
“Hasen is trying to be a Master Hunter.”
“Correct,” the male confirmed cheerily. “He is integrating other packs into his command and eliminating those who refuse. It has become quite an issue as of late.”
Though Grand Hunters could be assigned the moniker by owning territory and a willing pack—assuming they have the force required to defend it—a Master Hunter must own magnitudes more. It was typically achieved by integrating Grand Hunter packs and their subservients through mutual benefit, but taking it by force was a lesser used method.
Given that he had already either taken or purged several, it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to assume he would press it to include here.
Willin heard Tech curse under her breath, their promise of sovereignty obligating them to interfere. To allow a member of the military—stranded or not—free action against the grey-furred male’s territory would be the same as endorsing it, now that they were aware. It would be hostility by the UM in all but name, and the consequences that had seemed somewhat extreme before now hung over their heads like an executioner’s axe.
A dark, deep chuckle broke the two of them out of thought. “Contracts, new ones,” the Grand Hunter started, a cold Void pooling in his eyes, “are not to be thought trivial. Do not break them.”
“It was a trap,” Tech snarled, jabbing a claw at the report in her paw. “You set us up.”
“Did I?” the male asked innocently. “You offered self-governance, non-interference, and non-aggression.”
“You withheld information!”
The Grand Hunter smiled, a shiver sent down Willin’s spine. “You agreed without doing proper research.”
Willin held a paw out to stop Tech from storming the male. “The contract is signed, Tech.”
“It’s invalid!” she snarled at him, receiving a cold look in return.
“Do you want to be the one to tell command that we allowed damn near genocide of a crew we were here to assist, just because we were too stubborn to adhere to an agreement?” he countered calmly. “This ‘Hasen’ is wiping almost a year's worth of survival, botanical, and every other specialized knowledge gained, just because he wants to control a section of a planet. This doesn’t change anything, it just means we know what we’re going into.”
“I like him,” the Grand Hunter opined with a grin. “He sees the value that my proposition offers.”
“What’s stopping us from just tearing up the contract right now and leaving you to your fate?” Tech barked.
“Your companions in your craft—quite the ship, might I add—would be a notable starting point.”
The two of them paused, eyes widened. The dark grey-furred male laughed again.
“Your proximity sensor has been reporting since you landed, no?” he asked, pointing to the equipment on Tech’s harness. “It must have been rather vexing, yes? Is it the warp-spike? Is it some army of the unknown? The uncertainty of never confirming what it tells you. The whispers of doubt that follow.”
“I’m surprised you recognized what it was,” Willin replied with a level tone. He didn’t like where this was going. The male offered a smile.
“Wildlife here is especially elusive. Skittish. Ceasing all motion while predators are near and silencing themselves.” Tech and Willin exchanged a glance as the male waved a paw dismissively. “It makes for rather intensive training for my Blades. To hunt without disturbing them. My kit was a natural in such regard, but others have slowly approached such a threshold.”
He folded his paws on the desk. “Your ship is currently being observed by them now, weaponry trained on the defences you thought so adequate. Surely you noticed the lack of guns, yes?”
“The distress message mentioned the lack of them was due to how urgent evacuation was,” Willin added cautiously.
“Yes, quite. I made sure to lock the armouries after taking enough to establish my power,” the male confirmed with a half-shrug. “Among those were rifles not dissimilar to the rifle that the purple one there brought with her.” He leaned back in his chair. “Sufficient to pierce the hull and whoever occupies the space behind it, no?”
Tech’s eyes unfocused, snapping to Willin with a fear behind them. The Grand Hunter spun his quill, unconcerned by the events.
“Your short-wave has been temporarily disabled. You can not warn them.”
“Threatening us to compliance?” Willin asked without emotion to his tone. He needed to keep things from escalating.
“Ensuring you understand the consequences of your actions,” the male replied plainly. “When one barters with Avalon, know that breaching such is grounds for death. Of you, and whoever I need to send with you.”
“They didn’t sign this,” Tech argued, kept in line by Willin’s demeanour.
“But you did,” the Grand Hunter returned coldly. “Honour your signature, or regret such in the Void.”
Tech took an enraged step forward, stopped when her throat pressed against a dagger that was slipped in from behind. Willin felt the pressure of a knife to his own.
“Patience, new ones.”
“You took advantage of the interference to sneak assassins into the room?” Willin noted.
“No, my Blades were always here,” the male refuted lazily, nodding at Tech. “She noticed, but was unable to trust what her equipment told her.” He chortled for a moment. “Quite the annoyance, proximity sensors. I feel rather blessed to have the warp-spike rendering them little more than meaningless noise.”
“So this is it? You kill us now, our friends when they refuse to cooperate, then steal what we brought?”
The pressure on his neck faded with a wave of the male’s paw, the assassins being nowhere to be seen.
“Of course not!” the Grand Hunter exclaimed, his voice returning to its affable cadence. “You now know how futile it is to go against me. Fear not, I see no merit in hindering you. As long as you honour your portion of the contract, I will honour mine. It is a certainty that Avalon was founded on.”
Tech rubbed her neck, glancing questioningly at Willin. He gave the male a wary glance, but closed his eyes to concede. They were just going to get everyone killed if they tried to back out of something they had already agreed to.
“Then we have come to an understanding,” the dark grey-furred male announced happily. “As a show of faith, do you have any questions where I might provide clarity?”
The two soldiers glanced at each other, Tech begrudgingly giving Willin the floor. He gestured to the smallest stack of papers. “Who is this? There’s next to nothing about him. Are you withholding information against your contract?”
The Grand Hunter smirked. “That, new ones, is all I could gather from my Blades.”
“You have Lilhuns disappearing in the room a moment after holding a knife to our throats, and they couldn’t scout a settlement?”
“Isn’t it interesting?”
“Enthralling,” Tech commented dryly. The male tapped a claw against his head.
“Think, new ones. What might render my Blades little more than a mild inconvenience?”
Willin’s eyes narrowed. “Other Blades? Better Blades?”
The dark grey-furred male held an expectant smile. “None have been seen, save for my kit.”
“Your kit’s mate is the Grand Hunter? I don’t see one Blade deterring this many,” he admitted, flicking through the pages. Overt, covert, and disguised. None got very far.
“Thus why I believe the male is owed a favour,” the Grand Hunter explained. “I gave them four Blades as a gift. They have become more.” A predatory look of elation cracked through the veneer. “There exists no better Sheath than a Blademaster. Let alone one who surpasses my methods. If she is to succeed me, I would rather no other to accompany her.”
“Says here that he’s an alien,” Willin noted aloud, trying not to voice his surprise. “I’m skeptical.”
“Oh, please do be. It will make hearing about what he asks of you that much more amusing.”
“Any ideas what he might look for from us?” Tech spat, still irritated.
“Oh, I might have an idea,” the male answered cryptically, sliding a small tablet of silver wood across the desk. Willin picked it up to inspect it, two foreign scripts scratched into the surface. With a questioning glance, the Grand Hunter nodded, Willin stashing the tablet into a pouch. “He seeks that which others might not, for reasons as foreign as he himself is. I have little doubt that something related to that trinket will be his wish.”
“Then why visit him last?” the purple-furred female pressed.
“Because it will influence his decision.”
“Which is enough reason for us,” Willin declared with a warning scowl at Tech. She held his gaze before looking away in annoyance.
“Then our meeting is finished,” the male announced, gesturing to the door. It opened, the whirring of servos giving way to the distant ambient chatter of the hallway. Two of the black leather-clad escorts entered the room and awaited them.
“Is there anything we should know that may have not made it to the report about him?” Willin asked before leaving, turning naught but an ear for the response.
The Grand Hunter hummed for a moment. “Do mind your manners surrounding his kit,” he offered. “Or do not, it matters little to me if you survive past honouring the agreement.”
Tech stopped at the doorway, glaring at the male as Willin exited. “We never did get your name.”
His brows raised in interest. “You saw my signature.”
“I would rather hear it from you,” she insisted coolly.
A toothy smile spread over the male’s muzzle. “Grand Hunter Trill; Blademaster of Avalon, Sire of Phantom, and—if I remember correctly—the Weighted Scale, Aspect of Balance.”
“’May he who barter with the Void fear its ire,’” she recited, conviction in her words.
“’Yet he who uphold bathes in its blessing,’ yes,” Grand Hunter Trill replied with a knowing look. “Consider it, new one. To be crushed under the obligations you fail to upkeep, or revel in that which you covet. Do be warned; though I let you and your party leave—” his eye gained a sharp edge. “You are never beyond my influence.”
“May the sun treat you well, Grand Hunter,” she replied tersely, spinning on her pad to leave. Willin glanced back as he waited for her to pass him, seeing nothing but the door closing behind her.
Their weapons were returned, each in the same state as they were confiscated, save for a familiar knife. He scowled as he shifted his footing to reveal that the comforting weight had been removed from his boot. He begrudgingly accepted the blade, tucking it back into the sheath as the Lilhun smirked at him, his mirth at the dark green-furred male’s displeasure evident.
They were escorted out of the shuttle, a pause afforded long enough for Willin to flick up his hood before they continued to the outermost edge of the settlement. As soon as they were outside of the fence, their escorts turned and quickly faded into the buildings.
A crackle came over the headset.
“Leader! Tech! We thought something may have happened,” Comms shouted into the earpiece, genuine worry coating his words.
“Were you unsuccessful?” Nav added, the sound of a small distance between speaker and microphone suggesting they were sharing.
Willin adjusted the strap of his rifle and started walking, Tech following after a lingering glance at the settlement. “We got what we came for, but it might have cost us.”
“It was simply a meeting, no?” Comms asked to clarify.
“If you can call being strung along by an Aspect ‘simple,’ then yes,” Tech growled.
“Aspect?”
“Balance,” Willin provided through a sigh. “Weighted Scale.”
“Receive your heart’s desire at a heavy sacrifice,” Nav commented after a moment, likely referencing something. “What did you give them?”
“Sovereignty and a favour to be paid out to another Grand Hunter.”
“That does not seem too unreasonable,” Comms voiced curiously.
“We’ll talk about it when we get back. I have a feeling that the hole was dug too deep to see the bottom quite yet.”
“There’s a battle brewing,” Tech notified the crew, adjusting her audio interface. For once, it was completely silent. “We got dragged into it.”
The short-wave fell silent.
“What do we do?” Comms questioned quietly, the crackle of the distortion pitching his voice slightly.
Willin snorted, exhaling slowly.
“We made a deal with Avalon, Comms. We honour the contract.”
Next
A/N: Folded and made a Patreon. You can do the thing there, but i don't have anything to offer. Gonna move the rare AI Gen character art to it though, since it's the best i can offer.

i take inspiration from people who lead different lives. first mistake, but they’re still inspirational. i’d love to be a digital nomad who only requires a small suitcase worth of material goods, and can sustain a livelihood with a laptop.
but that is just not my life. i like hobbies that are physical (that takes up a lot of space), i love clothes, but are they controlling me? a part of me is frustrated that these are things i like.
a part of me wished i just stopped loving all of these things so that i could live a life that isn’t mine. it seems unrealistic.
but those people… they look freed. they sound so free. free from all material possessions, they’re one with earth and can move anywhere they want, whenever they want. they spend time making genuine memories and it’s something i envy greatly