I'm from a third world country where RWD cars are either too old or too expensive, FWD cars comprise the majority of all cars. Still, some people pull the handbrake while applying throttle and turn the wheel, and call that drifting. Others remain adamant that drifting can only be done on FWD cars.
I was never interested in "FWD Drifting" but I was in an accident where my FWD car lost traction on the highway, spun around, hit the road divider and flipped over. A friend who is a good "FWD drifter" said I might have been able to control it if I had some sense of drifting. He once saved himself from a near fatal crash by using these skills.

Hey my situation is not as normal as most people I took most of my early twenties to traveling the world and basicly doing serving jobs to save up and finance my lifestyle around 25 went to Uni studied Econ and Business Studies perfect grades, leadership positions, NED since then till now for different charities I am 29 (30 soon) now and working at one of the Big 4 not making big bucks in any way whatsoever I can either choose to do my CPA while working, which seems good but will it even be worth it after few years with AI developements will it just be a waste is whag I am thinking and pay won’t even increase all that much….Or get a Masters or MBA (potentially EMBA as I heard I am a bit old for MBA and would feel inadequate with much younger classmates) I am happy to move and/immigrate to any country around the world what should I do to maximise my earning potential moving forward what is the best choice seen as I am a bit older what can I do to catch up?
Many thanks

Hello all,
I am a 32-year-old male digital nomad. I work fully remote, travel often, and live in countries with a lower cost of living. Currently, I have debt and am uncertain about my ability to retire or buy a home in America due to the wage and cost of living gap. Since I work remotely, I am considering buying a house in Spain, so I’m unsure if I should save as much cash as possible or focus on paying off my debt.
Here’s a summary of my financial situation:

• Expenses:
  • Rent: $2,000 (on average)
  • Student Loans $400
  • Phone bill: $105
• Savings:
  • $40,000 in savings
  • $16,000 in stocks
  • $2,800 in company stock
  • $14,000 in my 401k account
• Income:
  • $93,000 annually ($4,500 monthly after taxes)
• Debt:
  • $80,000 in student loans
  • $10,000 in Chase Preferred debt
  • $4,000 in Apple Card debt

What should I do to improve my financial health?

Hi, I am new here and I am posting for the first time. Please let me know if I am breaking any rules here so I can re-do it. It is one full chapter, but because it is so long, I broke into four parts.
This is a theory for the actual Prologue of The Winds of Winter. Please enjoy. This is Part 4 of 4.
The Winds of Winter
Prologue
[Part 3]
Suddenly a voice roared from above. “This is Ser Forley Prester! Drop your weapons! Drop them!”
Ser Barnabus started to curse as he stood on the ladder halfway. He took a deep breath in disappointment. “Come on Leo, we have work to do.” He ascended.
Leo gave the golden egg to a shocked Lady Mormont and took a step towards the ladder, but he then turned around to Eleyna. He kissed her on the lips. The princess fought back and held Leo’s blond head with both her hands, forcing more of herself onto him. Their tongues danced a secret hidden inside their mouths, taking each other’s breath away over and over again. Olyvar did not think they would ever let go, until Eleyna did, shedding a tear. Leo turned back to the ladder. Ice in his veins and without another word, he began to climb.
Ser Brynden shared a look with Ser Olyvar. “I’m not kissing you!” He began walking towards the ladder as well, with Lord Edmure Tully trailing. He shoved his nephew aside. “Your lady wife is waiting for you on that ship with your child! Protect them! Keep the Tully name alive! Fly away now! That is an order! Take Queen Jeyne Stark to the ship and protect her family too!” The Blackfish conjured a duty that Edmure could not decline. He gave his uncle a sad agreeing nod. While climbing up, the Blackfish then looked at Olyvar. “Ser Frey, guard this ladder!”
Though not giving any direct orders to the Seashell Knight, Ser Raynald Westerling kissed his sisters and mother. They begged him not to go, but Ray flew to the top as well.
Ser Olyvar got up and began to follow, but the crying Queen tugged his cloak. “Olyvar, you promised me.”
“Goodbye Jeyne. I have to do my duty.”
“Just hang on a minute. Listen and promise me Ser Frey. Don’t be a fool. If you are in trouble, don’t try to be brave, just fly, fly away. Find me.”
Olyvar Frey got to his knees again and kissed her forehead. “Okay. Jeyne, my Queen … I’ll be back. I promise.”
“We need to move her to the rowboats,” Alesander Frey suggested. Olyvar hugged his brother, and ordered him to carry Jeyne’s weight to the exit with Lord Edmure’s help. Sybell and Eleyna Westerling held up Jeyne’s thighs as Lady Mormont spearheaded the path with her torchlight in one hand and the golden egg curled on the other.
“You better be right behind us,” Maege commanded.
“I will,” Olyvar hoped.
The new knight approached the base of the wet ladder and began to climb. He reached halfway and stopped to listen above. The thunderstorm roared its fury, and the Blackfish was already speaking.
“What kind of knight threatens a pregnant woman?” Ser Tully voiced his rhetorical question.
“We did not know she was pregnant. She fooled us with her sister. But I am one that follows the orders of his liege lord.”
“You mean the Lannister one that killed his king once? Or the other Frey one that killed his other king too? Or the dead lord who killed Dornish babes? How do the princes of Dorne feel about you cheap-honor Lannisters?”
“You were the ones that rebel against the crown.”
“And it was the Kingslayer that threw Bran Stark out the window in a time of peace! At his own home! Do the Lannisters enjoy killing children and murdering unarmed people at dinner?”
“He is my liege lord.”
“Aye, and you seem like someone who knows his role and shuts his mouth. Do you want to be remembered for the rest of time as the knight that cleans up after his shit? ‘Here lies Ser Forley Prester, the legend that wipes the Goldenhand’s ass,’ will be written on your tomb in gold. Too bad your grave-mark will forget the part where everyday you take his golden-hand, shine it up real nice, turn that piece of metal sideways and shove it up your own candy arse for pleasure!”
The men above laughed as a shriek of thunder rumbled not too far from the Rock.
“You seem like a charming man Ser Brynden, but we are not here to discuss the rights or wrongs of men, knights, lords, kings and princes who are far far away from here.”
“Well here in my garrison I have Ser Olyvar Frey, son to Walder Frey, and a loyalist to his King, Robb Stark. Please ask Ser Olyvar Frey which is right and which is shit?”
Olyvar realized the Blackfish is chatting to buy time for Jeyne to escape.
“Is he a knight now?” A familiar voice that sounded like Edwyn Frey asked. “How did that come to pass?”
“Kill the right people I suppose. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to now? What is your name my lord?”
“My name is Ed–“
“IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOUR NAME IS!”
Giggles tickled the rainy circular drain above Olyvar.
“And aye, I knighted him myself. And his Queen in the North even made him a new coat of arms to differentiate himself from his disgraceful family,” the Blackfish announced to Edwyn Frey.
“And how would I know what cloak he wears now?” Ser Forley’s voice continued.
“Fastened by Queen Stark herself, it’s the bridge of the twin towers with a river flowing underneath, colored Stark grey and Tully red & blue. But every one of my friends here are all championed by our Queen. Are any of you beloved by a queen?”
Ser Forley tried to counter, “A new sigil of water flowing underneath a bridge? Did he make the water flow himself? Is he a plumber?”
“Aye, he may be a plumber knight, but you got shit for honors.”
“My honor is in tact.”
“Was it in tact when you abandoned your army at the Battle of the Camps? Claiming that you have honor is like claiming turtles can grow wings and fly. My plumber knight has more honor than your shit!”
Ser Forley paused … and then exulted, “Will this plumber be cleaning up my shit later?” Quiet chuckles whispered from the higher balconies.
The Blackfish retaliates, “As long as you acknowledge your honor as shit, he will.”
Loud laughter filled the air, but with Olyvar hiding in the hole of the floor, he could not tell if it was from his brothers, from his foes or both. Alive or facing death, one should know better not to trade japes with the Blackfish.
“Enough!” yelled Ser Forley. “You are clearly out manned down there at this courtyard! At least three of my men to one of yours! AND I have the high ground! So I won’t say it again, drop your weapons and I will let your men live!”
“Do you take me for a motley fool? You just don’t want us to loose back when you shoot your crossbows at us. You Lannisters cannot win in a fair fight against us if we are armed, but you men sure do a good job of killing defenseless people and children. And I will not give you that pleasure!”
“I do not know what you heard, but that is not entirely true.”
“Not entirely true? Do you Lannisters fondle the children first before you kill them? Do you give the children a good sniff before you cook them like Mad Danelle Lothson? Mother have mercy!” Ser Brynden teased.
“Enough! I will let your men live if you drop your weapons! I swear it on my hon-“
“We shit on your honor! Are there no true knights among you lot? You men following this shit knight’s shitty order, do you not have any honor yourselves? To chase after and kill a woman who is in labor? To kill a babe? Our king—”
“OUR CHOSEN KING!” Lord Galbart Glover’s voice thundered in before the Blackfish continued.
“—chose to execute his own kin and bannerman for butchering children … Lannister children! Frey children! But your knight here serves men without honor. Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer! Lord Walder Frey the Guestslayer! Lord Roose Bolton the Turncloak! COWARDS! Men who serves hospitality with bloodshed beneath their roofs and massacre innocents! Will you continue to serve these false knights and false men? Are you not fathers, nor aspire to be fathers some day? Well serve your CHOSEN lord’s bidding and be cursed! A predator of children is no lord of mine!” Ser Brynden Blackfish Tully spat and thunder boomed. “The gods will never forgive that, the slaughter at the Twins, the murder, the treason, the mutiny!”
Ser Forley began to scream louder, “You call it what you want! You’re down there, we’re up here! You came into the wrong damn castle Ser!”
“Stand fast brothers!” Ser Tully alerted.
“Gods damn this, I am telling you this one last time. Order your men to drop their weapons to the deck.”
“So you could parade us as prisoners before executing us? I cannot give that order,” defied the Blackfish.
“I am not going to repeat that order!”
“I WILL NOT GIVE THAT ORDER!” Thunder boomed again.
“WHAT IN SEVEN HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU? THIS IS USELESS!”
“STAND FAST!”
“ONE LAST TIME! ORDER YOUR MEN TO –“
“Ser Forley!” an unfamiliar voice called. “Queen Stark and her group are spotted. They are escaping on a rowboat at sea below. They appear to be heading west,” the watchman said.
Edwyn Frey’s voice commanded, “Archers, to the western edge! Kill them! Kill them all!!”
“BROTHERS! Kill the watcher first and anyone on that western edge!” the Blackfish thundered in the order.
A quick shoosh was heard above and a cry of pain immediately sounded from the west, as a body thumped and squished onto the lower muddy ground.
And suddenly the air was filled with it, as the thunderstorm raged on.
Shoosh shoosh shooosh shooosh shoosh ahhhhhh ahhhhh shoooosh ahhhh shooooshhh shoosh boom doom boom doom boom doom shooosh shooosh ahhhhhhh boom doom boom!
The heavens exploded from above, illuminating Olyvar’s drain instant after instant. Men were heard screaming and dying in agony. Whether or not it was his brothers or his foes, Olyvar couldn’t tell. He caught a glimpse of three bolts speeding above his small hole in different directions, and knew there were a hundred more he could not see. The enemy has the high-ground, Olyvar remembered, all my brothers are probably dying. He was unsure whether to descend down or ascend up the ladder into the chaos. He started to tear up, the cold rain still soaking his face as lightning continued to flashed and thundered through the pit above him.
“GOOSE!!!” Leo’s voice screamed. No!
“LEO TAKE COVER!”
“KEEP LOOSING BRO—AHHHHH!”
“FATHER!!”
“BROTHER, NO!!”
“TO THE WEST! LOOSE! LOOSE! LOOSE! PROTECT YOUR QUEEN!!!”
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL YOU MOTHERF*CKERS!!!”
Men were still crying up there, along with the bass of the approaching storm, blending with the streak of arrows and bolts hitting stone, mud and flesh. Still clung to his ladder, Olyvar looked down cowardly as a teardrop fell off his face. It landed on Alesander.
“You fool, what are you doing here? You left the rowboat?”
“I came back to fight.”
“You are no fighter, you are a singer. Leave here. Escape into the tunnels and save yourself my brother.”
He hesitated to answer, his own tears trickling down. “Aye, I will. And when I leave here, I’ll sing about what has happened today, what is still happening above us.” The screams were not stopping. Bolts, arrows and curses could still be heard flying above. Alesander moved towards a fissure in the cavern wall, spying to the west. “The Queen should be far out of harm’s way. The winds are kind, and the bolts are missing its mark away from the LionsJape.” He walked back to him. “Come with me Olyvar if you want to live.”
“Soon. But not yet. I need to hold this ladder. Leave my brother. Sing about this and immortalize our sacrifice.”
“Don’t go.” He grabbed Olyvar’s leg.
“Just let go of me!” Olyvar winched free.
“If you can escape, escape. I’ll fly away now. Farewell my honorable brother.”
“Wait!” Olyvar almost forgot. “Do you know what it is?”
His brother smiled a smile that Olyvar will never forget. “We have a Stark princess.” His footsteps faded into echoes as Alesander descended into the darkness of the tunnels.
But Olyvar began the climb in his. The hole above was gaping wider with each slow step up, ready to swallow him whole. Olyvar trembled. Besides the flashes of lightning, he could not see what was going on, but he could feel it in the air. He can taste the rain from above. He can hear the music of defiance to House Lannister, the sounds of arrows and loud screams drowning into silence. He can even smell it too. The smell of the Rock cooked with the salt of the sea, the iron of his brothers’ blood, the piss & stool of honorable dead men, staining & stinking the courtyard of Tywin Lannister’s home, leaving Casterly Rock an empire of shit.
He stood on the one rung that exposed his head just above the ground. Bodies. Brothers’ bodies and bolts everywhere. Rain and blood soak the mud, and fading cries of pain filled his ears. He saw the Queen’s uncle and master schemer of this plan, Ser Rolph Spicer, had a bolt in his eye as he died by the kitchen doors. The Seashell Knight was lifeless with his face first in the middle of the mud near Olyvar’s pit. Donal with bolts to his shoulder, stomach, and legs was on one knee shouting & cursing as he continued to loose arrows from three quivers as his brothers Raff & Mikkal laid dead beside him. Lord Glover had two bolts in him and took another in the chest. He paced backwards and fell over the parapet into the sea. A bolt was stuck on Goose’s neck, as he and Leo rested motionless together at the foot of a column, sharing a single bolt that shot through their hearts. The shield that Leo had held up was decorated with a dozen bolts, but it was too late for the other ones that got through.
Olyvar’s soul ached in agony, the clutch of his hand shaking as he clung onto the ladder. A small pile of feathered Lannister men had fallen from the western balcony and onto the courtyard. But he could not feel the victory in it … not now, nor not yet, perhaps never. The rest of his brothers Olyvar could not see from his ladder, but he spotted a few arrows still loosing up to the second floor behind cover, still fighting back. It is so few. Many more bolts were still shooting down from the top. Crossbowmen hid as they reloaded, popping up to release before ducking again.
He spotted Ser Brynden Tully the Blackfish crawling towards him, needled like a red porcupine blowfish. “Olyvar!” He hooted bluntly. “Why are you still here?” Olyvar’s heart quenched at the sight of the blood of Riverrun; his pink life flowing in a thin river and draining out towards his ladder. The water-downed blood reached Olyvar’s fingers. He wanted to help but did not know how, nor know the words. He offered his hand and Ser Tully held it. “Did she make it out to sea?”
“Yes Ser, she should be safe,” Olyvar prayed.
“So, do we have a prince or a princess? Or one of each? Heh!”
“Do not get greedy Ser,” Olyvar jested. “We have a she-wolf.”
The Blackfish smiled a hard smile with blood filling his mouth. “Good, they should be safer this way. And I hope she takes after her fierce grandmother.”
“Which one? Lady Catelyn Tully?”
“Of course heh. That would be a great granddaughter name for our storm-born she-pup … Catelyn,” the Blackfish joked.
Olyvar smiled while Ser Tully reciprocated a red one. “I like the name Adara.”
“Adara? That sounds like a wonderful name. Where did that come from?” Ser Tully asked, tearing and bleeding.
“It was Captain Samullu’s mother’s name.”
“Aye, that is a terrific name. Princess Adara Stark. Tell that to our Queen Jeyne that I concur to the name choice, pass that final message of mine. Now fly along Ser Olyvar, escape here, reunite with your Queen and protect your family. There is nothing left to do here but die, so fly! Let the divine swift winds of winter push Adara to safety. You have King Robb’s spirit within you. The babe does not have a father nor Grey Wind, so you must keep her safe.”
“We are all her fathers,” Olyvar declared.
The Blackfish grinned, knowing Olyvar probably out teased him in his final moments. “No … a band of fathers brothers? That would make us a band of uncles.” He chuckled bloodily.
Olyvar laughed and teared a drop. “That was a very clever. Just don’t tell Lady Mormont.”
“Don’t worry fellow Uncle, I won’t.”
“It has been an honor fighting by your side, Ser Uncle Brynden Tully, the great Blackfish.”
“It has been an honor living by yours, Ser Uncle Plumber Knight,” the legend replied.
He watched the knight’s life wash away, his last breath tasting the rains of Casterly Rock. The legendary Ser Brynden’s last words were for me. Wells flooded in Olyvar’s eyes, beginning to blind. He lets go of his hands.
He takes a few steps down the ladder, and then suddenly stops. What honor is this? Leaving my brothers and my commander like this? Am I a little cowardly rat of a ratty family, hiding in a tunnel? Or am I a brave knight?
The thunder and rain continued, but the arrows have stopped. Nothing but silence, only stares if Olyvar had to guess. His brothers were all dead. I need to get up. One step up and he suddenly stopped again. No, I need to escape and protect my Queen, does that make me a coward?
He checked his pocket and made sure his letter to his father sat below his heart. It was still there. Olyvar’s grip on the rung was firm and quivering.
To flee or not to flee? That is the riddle.
“Soldiers! To the lower floor! Grab their bows and quivers. Get down that ladder, find a boat, chase Queen Stark and kill them! Kill them all!” Edwyn Frey’s voice ordered.
Well, that made answering the riddle a lot easier.
Ser Olyvar Frey ascended from the pit of his ladder, his arms pulling, legs pushing, up and up into the chaos. The thunderstorm loomed above as his soul was escaping into the hole that was gaping wider with every step. He was ready.
At the ground level, he stood up. Cold rain and warm tears danced down his face, his cloak whipping in the air to the winds, his heart and fists began to fill with fiery rage. From up here, he can see the full horror of the slaughter. Brothers with bolts. Was this the same scene of my King’s death? Before he could ponder any further, he unsheathed Honor from his back, the sword was singing off its scabbard just as a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky … its twin mirrored off the steel’s reflection, the blade alive with blinding light for an instant.
Ser Olyvar counted the ill-fitted armored and shield-less men as they came pouring out from the kitchen doors at his level. Two, three, four, five, six … seven. Thin white stripes splits the sky. His heart was thumping and rumbling to the same beat of the thunderstorm that was mumbling in every distance.
I’m going to fight them all, no soldier in any Seven Kingdom army can hold me back!
The distance between the first unarmed man closed. His shocked face eyed Ser Olyvar’s new twin tower sigil on his cloak. Confused, he began to slow down, but Olyvar sped up. He greeted him with a deep slash, ripping him off as the skies flashed again. He darted forward to the next man, allowing the first one to take his time dying behind his back.
The second reached for his sword but was too slow to the draw. Honor found the front of the pink man’s chest and the rear of his back. For a heartbeat, the bloody front half of the exposed steel glowed damped red, while the clean side sparkled in purple. Olyvar pulled back his sword after a twist, and the soldier dropped to his knees to the boom of thunder.
The third drew his sword halfway before Olyvar swung at his head as his steel electrified, emitting blinding light to his eyes. He smelled Honor up close with his nose, as a gash ran from ear to ear while teeth and tongue exploded in the air. Olyvar paid him no more mind.
The fourth with panicked eyes was just a boy. He successfully drew his weapon from his belt and lifted above his head a short wooden stick. A flute? He stared up at his own wind pipe as his sword rested in his scabbard untouched. Between his legs, his breeches began to darken more with moisture, as the rest of his body was frozen like ice. A fLuke? It doesn’t matter. The Plumber Knight began to raise Honor high. The boy cried out, “Mother have mer—“.
“No,” Olyvar cuts him off, his voice was cold as stones. “I am not your mother.” Honor fell in a bright silvery-blue arc as the force of the blade severs the soldier’s right stick-bearing wrist, and splits the skull & brains underneath. Ser Olyvar Frey kicked off the mayhaps-fourth-corpse as its limp body slid from his red wet steel.
The fifth one was ready with his sword, as the sixth and seventh began pincering around Ser Olyvar with theirs. The rain began pouring heavily, cleansing the blood and brains off Honor, ready to shine again.
Olyvar’s wits returned from his blind rage, and began backing up calmly before they could surround him. The rear of his heel tapped a fallen shield that once belong to one of his brothers. Olyvar grabbed it instinctively and raised it up. “Come on you apes! Do you want to live forever? Come at me then!” No one came forward to answer the riddle, so Ser Olyvar went to them.
He charged at the one on his right as Honor slashed and flashed, but the soldier jolted backwards avoiding the swing. The shifty swordsman slipped on the surface with his hop and fell face-first into the mud. The other two took their chances when Olyvar swung and missed. He caught the cut of the left soldier on his shield, as the middle fighter aimed high. To the ground, the knight ducked under, saving his head. The middle slugger lost his balance at his empty decapitating slice, and a crouching Olyvar stroke savagely at his knees in a splash of red and bright purple. He fell face-first too, as the other soldier on his left began hacking at the wooden shield that Olly held up. Doonk! Doonk! Doonk! Before his challenger could swing a fifth time, Olyvar Frey on one knee whirled the apex of his shield viciously at the man’s wrist and sent the sword flying from his hand. Without hesitation, the Plumber Knight stabbed upwards from crotch to brains as the steel surprised the man with shock. Olyvar stares into the white of his eyes as they reflected a flash of lightning. The eyeballs then slowly rolled up into the back of his head. He unsheathed Honor downward from the dead man, as blood and shit fell like loose stool to the ground.
The other fighter with no knees rolled around to face up before he could drown in the mud. He was crying and screaming on the ground. “Nooooo!” But the Plumber Knight jumped on him without mercy. He tried to dart and evade, but forgot he had no knees to push from. Olyvar’s feet stomped the man’s stomach as he thunder-slammed the edge of his shield to kiss his opponent’s mouth, silencing him forever.
The first armed man that dodged his death finally got up from his struggles with the slippery ground, only to meet at it again. Soaking in mud, he began to bull-rush Olyvar, trying to stab or slash an opening with his sword. Olyvar dashed towards him in squishing strides, and took his charging strike at his Brother’s shield as he stepped aside. The former squire of Robb Stark, Olly, instantly planted his foot and twirled. His Queen’s wet cloak spun and smacked his opponent’s head. Suddenly the Plumber Knight had the enemy’s rear and naked. He lifted his King’s sword up, pointing down with both his hands on the grip. Ser Olyvar and thunder roared together as Honor brightly stabbed from above into the mudman’s back with the flash and fury of the gods. “AHHHHHHHHH!!!”
He lifted his sword back up as the seventh corpse fell to the ground, face-first again. Suddenly a mosquito buzzed from behind his ear and a short wooden stick skidded off the flat stone-path in front of him. He then felt a bite in his back, lost a breath and saw another wooden rod. But this one was lodged in his right breast. Red blood slowly began to seep from his black scaled boiled-leather armor as he grunted in pain. He reached for the stick trying to push it backwards from where it came from. Quickly he felt the pain again as he saw another bolt stab the front of his stomach while his Brother’s shield slid off from this left forearm. The third one struck the side of his left thigh, sending Ser Olyvar to the ground on one knee. He braced on his King’s sword to keep him from falling flat.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Ser Forley Prester ordered.
Cold rain danced on his face with the warm tears he tried to hide, his cape was flapping in the wind, and his heart was thumping quicker in unison to the beat & the flash of the storm. Ser Olyvar Frey, you honorable fool, why did you rush in? You can’t help yourself falling in love with bloody vengeance for your fallen brothers and King? For an instant, lightning popped again above the Rock and thunder rolled. You should have taken your time killing them as they descended down your pit, instead of you going up the ladder to their chaos. Frey blood, -no … blood of Roses By another name welled from the bolts that had punched him. He had known nothing half gallant and half stupid at the same time for what he just did. Or at least you could have flown away, such a fool! You should of just beat it. No one wanted to be defeated like this. Why did you have to show off how funky strong your fighting skills were? At this point, it doesn’t matter who’s wrong or who’s right … you should of just beat it!
Ser Forley Prester spoke from his balcony above. “You must be the Plumber Knight that the Blackfish talked about, judging by the sigil on your cape. A traitor to your own family. But for the honor of your lord grandfather, let us pass and I will let the maester do his job to save you. Or would it please you Ser, if you wanted some more bolts?”
More? Olyvar twisted his mouth in defying silence, his gruesome wounds spitting out blood. He had a job that he promised to do. He must rescue his pregnant Queen. Little did he know, he had to rescue a princess from this castle too. We all died for Robb’s little girl, there was no more to ask of them. Did these uncles succeed for her safety? He turned around to the west to see as far as his eyes could see into the sun setting sea. Her boat was far enough from any archers, and soon it would be too dark for a chase. The thought brought him joy. Thank the gods for this swift divine wind. We did our duty.
Impatient for a reply, the shit knight said, “I will not ask again. Knight to knight. Let us pass. We need to take back the Queen and her unborn son. I will bring them no harm, you have my word. Drop your sword, bend the knee like you mean it, let us pass … and I will tell Lord Walder Frey what an honorable warrior and a great grandson you are.”
That offer was a lie, a conjurer’s cheap trick. They would just humiliate and shame him before executing him for treason. That was not the song he wanted, not for his despicable old father. Olyvar would rather die sword in hand to the tune of another. He wanted Alesander’s song about the Motherfunker, Ser Brynden “Blackfish” Tully, his real brothers and the band of uncles. And he had one last shot, one last opportunity, to seize everything he ever wanted here. In this one moment, can I still capture it? Or will I let it slip? His palms were bloody, knees weak, arms were heavy … but the Queen and Princess are safe. Mother’s mercy. He was nervous, but on the surface, he looks calm and ready to drop bombs. But he had forgotten what he wrote down in his father’s letter, as the crowds above goes so loud. He opens his mouth but the words won’t come out. He is choking. How? Everyone was joking now.
“Your luck has run out. The time’s up, it is over SER Olyvar. Bow.”
No. I refuse to BOW Ser. And I cannot die yet. There is something I still need to do. Both hands on hilt and pommel, he pushes himself up with Honor, surrounded by the doom above. He can feel his life leaving him. The skies blurred between light and dark, white and grey, with the black slowly creeping in.
“It’s a girl,” Uncle Olyvar said gently as he thought about his princess niece. The Plumber Knight then roared a roar that would put any craven into tears. “AND NO! YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” Honor rose and fell, the pointy end of his King’s sword squishing the blood soaked mud and crunching the rocks underneath.
KABOOOOOOOMMMM!!!
Instantly, lightning and thunder erupted above them at the loudest exploding caliber of the evenfall, blinding the sights of men and gods alike.
Uhoooooooooo! boom doom boom doom boom doom
Suddenly drums were beating, and trumpets were blasting from the east. Lord Gawen Westerling’s diversion! But they’ve come too late to rescue Olyvar and his brothers. The enemy did not divert to their last jape yet … their silent scared eyes still on the dying Plumber Knight. They began to reload their crossbows. This is my moment. The things I do for love, but I’m sorry Jeyne, I can’t do that. I can no longer keep my promise. Robb was waiting and I can finally rest again. We three will meet again together some day, but not today, he thought.
The band of drums, trumpets and thunderstorm blended into a sweet sad song that Olyvar wanted. This music is for me, and I will lose myself in it.
Charging up his final energy into his wounded lungs, he began to scream again.
“OUR QUEEN— ” A howl of blood cuts him off from finishing what he meant to say … our Family is safe.
“OUR KING—” A pool of iron filled and choked him before he could declare … we have done our Duty.
Still standing, he dips his chin low to empty his mouth, coughing out his mother’s Rosby blood. He needs to say his final words loud and clear. After the last spoon of blood poured down, he snapped his chin up towards the heavens and reality … ready for the gravity. With all the weight of his life, he pressed his King’s sword deeper into the Rock as the Plumber Knight thundered a roar, “OUR HONORRRRR!!!”
From below, Ser Olyvar of the disgraced House Frey faced off to the sad conflicted look of Ser Forley Prester with his garrison of archers beside him. The darkest gloom of the grey stormclouds had arrived and hovered above them, wet and heavy. The gods want their vengeance for the Red Wedding, he thought. The skies of Casterly Rock began to blacken with the rain of bolts and arrows. The only thing that could be seen is the single golden teardrop of the shit knight, reflected by the last light of the setting western sun.
BOOM!
THANK YOU FOR READING.

My wife wants to practice driving for her coming exam, so I offered. But she said she feels uncomfortable (she can't in general take any advice or remark from me). So she stopped it, and one day suddenly she showed up saying she had someone to practice. A friend of a friend of her sister. We have a kid, 6 years old; I work Monday to Friday, so Saturdays will be her practice day. The guy would then come and I should stay home with the kid. Up to there, normal... But the guy never came home, never showed his face, not to mention introduce himself (or she introduced him): he waited in his car and she went out to meet him. This went on for some weeks and they left for 2-3 hrs, and I didn't say anything: as we had moved to Europe, to her country, I still didn't know how are uses in her country and society. I didn't want to look out of place, insecure and so. Then one day I found out they went together to the movies after not so much driving.

I like to to travel around on foot with a small backpack and I'd like to find a lightweight, durable, reliable and low-maintenance poncho that is fast-drying to keep in the bottom of my pack. Something like my old standard issue army wet weather poncho but that one kept a musty odor all the time no matter how long you let it dry out for between uses. I'm hoping to keep the cost under $40 and the lighter the weight the better. Thank you for your ideas. I travel to the beach to hunt for rocks and beach glass. I sometimes travel between towns via public transportation and sometimes even go international and use the train between countries, so weight is critical. Years ago I bought a really great Resenthel poncho in Germany in a black and white houndstooth pattern. Unfortunately I stored it in my car door and over the span of about 10 years' time the waterproof liner coating eroded. It had a great hood with a drawstring and the whole thing folded up into a square pocket which was sewn into the front of the poncho and served as a functional pocket when worn. It was so great. When stored in the pocket, the zipped pocket had a lanyard to carry it on your wrist. Has anyone seen anything like this? I paid $30 euro for it I think.

I am a 28-year-old woman living in the midwestern United States. I’m happily married and have two cats.
In my spare time I enjoy learning languages (I speak Spanish at a conversational level, as well as some elementary Portuguese. I’ve also studied Polish and Mandarin to varying degrees). I also like reading and going for walks outside.
I love to travel when I can, although it’s been several years since I’ve been out of the country. My favorite trip so far has been to Scotland. Some of the countries on my list to visit next include Portugal, Argentina, and Vietnam.
Other likes include: Houseplants Anything Autumn/Halloween related
Please feel free to send me a message if you think we’d be compatible. I’m hoping to exchange letters with someone in the U.S. but I’m open to virtual pen pals from other countries.
I look forward to hearing from you!

TITLE CORRECTION: TWOW Prologue Theory and Fan-Fic, 2 of 4

Hi, I am new here and I am posting for the first time. Please let me know if I am breaking any rules here so I can re-do it. It is one full chapter, but because it is so long, I broke into three parts.
This is a theory for the actual Prologue of The Winds of Winter. Please enjoy. This is Part 2 of 4.
The Winds of Winter
Prologue
[Part 1]
My king. The sad memories faded into blurred flashbacks.
Olyvar cherished the sweet time as his grace’s squire. Though two years older, it made no matter. A warrior king was training Olyvar the way of knighthood, almost any boy’s dream. He remembered on slow days, Robb Stark would spend time with him, teaching the art of the long sword and shield. He can still remember the cloudy day at the Crag’s courtyard and his Northern accent as he swung his blade at the squire. “Keep your shield up Olyvar. Keep it up.”
“It’s too heavy.” Olyvar replied as Robb swung on.
“If it wasn’t heavy, it wouldn’t stop a sword. So get it up.”
They sparred and sparred in the courtyard. Robb Stark was dancing with him, hilts in hands. After he knocked Olyvar to the dirt for the twentieth time, he lifted him back up.
“Come, drive at me.” Robb then grabbed Olyvar gently by the back of his neck. “Look Olly, keep your shield up or I’ll ring your head like a bell.”
Olyvar never forgot that moment, his Grace’s right-hand touch, the way Robb looked into his eyes and called him ‘Olly’. No one has ever called him that and he liked it very much. They continued to dance. Rain began to fall, turning dirt into mud. Olyvar darted at him. Robb stepped aside, deflecting the stab off his shield and twirled around forward in a natural motion, his cloak spinning in the air. Before Olyvar knew it, Robb had his rear, his sword ready to thrust or slash any part of him. He glanced back and knew he was lost. The dance paused there and Olyvar turned around to meet Robb’s beautiful blue eyes. He could melt in them.
“You had me your Grace.”
“Come Olly, it’s your turn.” A winter wind came blowing in from across the sea. A breeze lingered there, brushed Robb’s auburn hair. “Now, dance with me!”
It almost felt like a sin to be as excited as Olly was at that moment.
“I’ll drive to you now. Try to do what I just did. In mud like this, don’t forget to plant your foot before each movement. And remember, you have to keep your shield up.”
As Olyvar and Robb got into their positions, his older half-nephew Ser Ryman Frey suddenly appeared and intervened. He grabbed Olyvar like a little green boy and pulled him towards the exit. NO! Olyvar’s word caught in his mouth.
Robb spoke up for him. “What are you doing? Olyvar is my squire and a grown man. He can do what he wants and speaks for himself.”
“My grandfather has declared a suspension of your alliance with House Frey,” Ryman said. “You have broken a sacred vow. If you would not have his daughter or granddaughter as your queen, you certainly cannot have his son as your squire.”
Robb was expecting Olyvar to say something, but the squire froze. More Frey guardsmen came in and dragged him away from the courtyard, his heels lifeless on the ground, leaving twin mud tracks on his departure. Robb stared at him sweet, sad, and silent. A bolt of lightning flashed across the rainy skies, its reflection off the King’s sword blinding Olyvar. That was the last time he saw Robb alive.
When news of his King returning to the Twins for the wedding between Lord Edmure Tully and his sister Roslin, Olyvar could not contain his excitement, to hear the voice of his call.
Since that rainy courtyard day, Olyvar had been on his own for long enough. He hoped maybe Robb could show him again that dance that he loved. Maybe. Olyvar had been going through withdrawals. Not seeing his Grace was just too much. He could turn me on with the slightest touch. But since the Red Wedding, Olyvar’s courtyard has been cold and empty. F\ck anyone who judges me. He couldn’t see clearly now that Robb was forever gone. Olyvar was still blinded by Robb’s last light. He couldn’t sleep, still yearning for his touch. In his heart, rain constantly fell, drowning him in the nights. I was his squire, Olyvar cried as his soul twisted. And I failed him. I was the only one that night he could trust.*
After the slaughter, Merrett Frey, a kin of his, greeted him as he released Olyvar from the dungeons. “I’m sorry Olyvar that we had to lock you up, Perwyn and Alesander too. But you must do your duty for your family. You are a Frey, a man of an honorable house. This stain left by Robb Stark and his b*tch mother Catelyn Tully should not go unpunished. Lady Catelyn also killed Jinglebells. She even japed ‘a son for a son*‘* to our Lord father as she slit his throat.”
A son for a son. Olyvar Frey looked at Merrett sullenly, his voice choking up, “I must go for a walk.” Olyvar walked and walked … passing the burnt tents, passing the dead soldiers with Northern and Riverland sigils sewn on their garments, and passing Grey Wind’s headless body. He was far enough from home, but he could still hear the cheap cheers of the Frey and Bolton soldiers.
He fell to his knees and began to cry. My king. My sweet king. Olyvar swore vengeance. Though he will never consider kinslaying as it was a curse among the gods, it would not stop him from facilitating others who seek revenge against his own family, the ones who were directly involved.
Suddenly at the side of the river, a dying man was crawling towards him. Soaked in water, mud and blood, he cried out in a ghastly voice “Olyvar!”
“Who, who are you?” Olyvar sprinted to aid and for recognition. “Raynald?” Without hesitation Olyvar replied, “My brother!” He placed himself under Raynald’s shoulder and lifted him up. “We need to find a maester.”
On the way back to camp, Olyvar and Raynald encountered two sentries of his Frey household guards, far from any other eyes can see.
“So what do you have here my Lord Olyvar?” one asked.
“A dying lone wolf? Let us put him out of his misery,” the other replied as they stared at Ser Raynald Westerling’s dampened seashell surcoat.
Olyvar lowered himself and laid Ser Raynald on the ground, and arose in a tone cold as stone. “No. Not a lone wolf.”
Olyvar unsheathed his sword and killed both Frey guards before they could reach their weapons. He then swapped Raynald’s wet Westerling clothing for one of the dead men, and found a maester.
Ser Raynald Westerling stayed with Olyvar at the Twins under disguise. He even trimmed off his brushy moustache. Weeks later after Ray had fully healed, he asked Olyvar to go with him to look for Maege Mormont and Galbart Glover at their secret hideout, as per the original plan before the wedding.
One night, Olyvar Frey simply walked out of the Twins again, this time with Ray. No one would care where Olyvar was going. Truth be told, his Frey family would be more content if more spawnlings of their lord father would leave the castle to find their own destiny, especially if they were unlikely heirs deep behind the line of succession.
Aboard one of the Northern galleys floating outside of Seagard, the Seashell Knight had to explain how this son of Walder Frey earned his trust, as Lady Mormont held Olyvar by the throat with a dagger. The skin around her eyes had been raked and blackened with tears and nails, her teeth bit with furious anger. She had been like this for weeks. Olyvar stared at her face and he felt like he could die here and now, if that was what it meant for Lady Mormont to forgive him, as he knows no gold would ever substitute for her grief. “I am sorry about your daughter Dacey. I lost my brother too. Benfred was a good man, I swear to you by all the gods old and new, that he did not have a part in the slaughter. Benfred would have done everything he could to grab an innocent woman like Dacey, and bring her safe from harm.” Olyvar meant it.
Mormont sheathed her dagger, her hands still shaking. “I’ll kill them all! Anyone who was a part of this!”
“No.” Olyvar replied. “We have to get the girls back. And then you can kill them all.”
At the siege of Riverrun, Olyvar Frey freely roamed Ryman’s uncoordinated camp. No one cared. One night alone, he swam across the moat and climbed up the castle with spikes. Only thirty feet up, the Tully guards had heard him clanking and aimed their crossbows from above. “Identify yourself!”
He whispered, “I am Olyvar Frey, son of Walder Frey, former squire to his King, Robb Stark. I come unarmed and offer myself as a hostage. I know the Blackfish, please let him know I am here.”
“Stay where you are.”
Olyvar clung to the castle’s wall half way down to death and half way up to forgiveness. Finally Ser Brynden Tully appeared and told Olyvar to come up quietly. As Olyvar threw himself over the parapet and onto the floor, the Blackfish kicked away his spikes and immediately kneed his body to the ground, holding a dagger at his throat. Shit, not again! Damn this mayhaps, why was I unblessed to be born a Frey?
“What are you doing here, Olyvar Frey?” Ser Tully demanded.
Olyvar told them the truth and handed him Lady Maege’s letter from a waterproof compartment in his garment. The letter was coded with secret words that he and she only knew. The Blackfish cracked the seal, unrolled the parchment and read. Afterwards he released the grip from the bottom and the message curled up on its own, eager to protect the secrets.
“The paper curls, at least you didn’t try to deceive me with the age of the parchment.” He then asked Olyvar, “So, you killed some of your own men did you?”
“To save Ser Westerling, yes.” The Blackfish looked at his eyes and nodded in approval. “May I see her now?” Olyvar inquired.
The Tully guards led Olyvar to her room. Some left the area, but others stayed and watched, still suspicious of the unarmed Frey. She was in her solar, knitting her needle works. He fell down to one knee towards his niece-in-law (by Olyvar’s brother-in-law, Lord Edmure Tully), “My Queen.”
“Olyvar!” Without a hint of hesitation or mistrust, she dropped her needle, ran towards him, and wrapped her loose skinny arms strongly under his’. She poured her heart, soul and grief-filled life into a Rose By the name of Olyvar Frey. He reciprocated, placing his arms around her shoulders as Jeyne Westerling-Stark continued to hold tight. Her orange sized breasts pushed against his chest, as the Queen’s chestnut mop of brown hair sat below Olyvar’s clean-shaven chin.
“Robb.” It was all she needed to say as they shared a sob. Nothing hurt more than that moment when he shared the same pain with Jeyne. Olyvar dipped his head to hers, their salty tears finally uniting and slowly dancing together as their faces pressed cheek to cheek.
“He is in the heavens now, I believe, singing from above.” Olyvar prayed. “He will be waiting for us. No doubt we will see him again some day, but we must make him wait.”
“I miss him so much,” Jeyne cried. She was always cheerful with Olyvar since they first met. Though he was curious whether she truly loved Robb or just wanted to be a queen, she has repeatedly been kind to him, so sweet. She never intervened when Robb trained Olyvar at swordplay and he was grateful for that. When they wed, Olyvar knew Robb could never be his brother, but Jeyne did not seem to mind letting him continue to squire beside her much younger brother, Rollam Westerling. Robb had allowed Olyvar to protect the queen sometimes, along with the other household guards, though he was still training at arms. Olyvar and Jeyne would talk constantly, mostly about their King. Even when Jeyne rambles about him, she would always shy away from talking about Robb’s bed manners. But Olyvar insisted he did not mind hearing it. Jeyne felt like a sister to him, just as much or more as Roslin.
“I miss him too,” Olyvar replied. “Did you really love him?”
She cried a little bit louder and squeezed Olyvar even harder. “With all my heart.”
Olyvar wanted to confess too, but he could not do it here, not with everyone watching. He only hoped Jeyne would ask him the same, and she did. “Did you really love him, Olyvar?”
He tightened his grip on Jeyne’s shoulders. “More than you ever know.”
She gently reached for his hands and lowered them. “Olyvar, you were his squire. He is gone now. But you still have a duty to us. You must protect us. We must never separate again. Promise me Olyvar. Promise me.”
“No. I cannot. Not yet. I must leave you, just this one last time, for your safety and your family’s.”
“You are part of my family,” the Queen proclaimed. Tears rolled down again, their hands still held together at their hips.
“I need to leave Riverrun tonight. And I promise you, we will reunite again and I will keep you safe.”
They talked for hours about the good times, the horror, and what the future lies. They talked about Robb, crying to the sadness of him, exulting at his bravery and his glories, laughing at the silly juvenile things the teenager king did to entertain them, and about falling in love with him all over again. And then they cried some more.
Later on that night, Ser Brynden visited Jeyne and Olyvar, with Lady Eleyna and Lady Sybell watching. “Olyvar, you were the King’s squire and though he is no longer with us, you are still owed a knighthood. Let the gods curse me if I ever knighted a Frey, but you are no Frey I have ever known. What you are about to do would be considered treason to your family.”
“But my lord father was treasonous to my King. I do not get to choose my father or which family I was born into. But here right now, is the family I want to be with.”
“Will you honor your new family? Will you honor your duty to your late King, his Queen and his House, the Starks of Winterfell?”
“I do,” Olyvar replied with pride.
The Blackfish unsheathed his sword, the blade alive with moonlight gleaming from the window balcony. “Shit I think I’m doing this wrong. I was supposed to say that later. Anyways, kneel Olyvar Frey.”
Olyvar got to one knee as Queen Stark and all the others watched. Ser Brynden Tully, the legendary warrior Blackfish, placed the flat of his sword on Olyvar’s shoulder.
“I charge you to be brave and … aww shit the knighting words escape me. I’m embarrassing myself. Anyways um. Family! Honor! Duty!” He placed the blade on the other shoulder. “Shit, I forgot the rest of the speech. Forgive me. But Olyvar of House Frey, I name you a knight! Now rise!”
And arose the new knight stood, and proud he was. King Robb Stark could have never fulfilled his promise of a knighthood, but it was his father that took it away from him. But being knighted by the Blackfish was more than anything Olyvar wanted right now, besides keeping Queen Jeyne and his family safe. To him, it was forgiveness.
The Queen approached him with a longsword in scabbard, flat on both hands. “Our late King had a gift for you Ser Olyvar Frey, at least he would have wanted you to have it.”
Before Ser Olyvar received it, he already knew what it was. Robb’s sword. “No, I cannot. I am unworthy of this gift, his Grace’s sword.”
“This is King Robb Stark’s sword, and I am his Queen wife. I charge you to protect your family with his own sword.”
Queen Jeyne Stark made an offer that Ser Olyvar cannot refuse. He took the sword from her forgiving hands.
“What will you call it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“A name. Robb never named his sword. But a good sword should have a good name.”
“I was told by my half-brothers that only cun–, I mean only women name their swords. I will let you name it, my Grace. How should we honor our late King Robb Stark?”
“It is honor,” Jeyne replied.
Confused, Olyvar asked, “What is honor?”
“A sword. This sword.”
Before the sun had dawned, Ser Olyvar Frey with Honor slung on his back, climbed down the castle walls with rope, swam under the moat again, and departed the birthplace of his King, Robb Stark, as a knight.
He returned to the Twins, keeping his knighthood a secret. When Riverrun had fallen to Ser Jaime Lannister, Edmure Tully had agreed to be a prisoner at Casterly Rock. Roslin Tully volunteered to join her husband, giving them a chance to raise a family together, even as hostages. Olyvar, their brother Perwyn and half-nephew Alesander all agreed to escort Lady Tully to the Westerlands. Although they told their half-family they would take the land-route for their journey; Olyvar, Perwyn, Alesander and Roslin had a different Frey destiny in mind. After the Kingslayer’s threat to Roslin’s unborn child, there was no day they would ever stay at Casterly Rock nor return to the Twins. They departed for the coast and reunited with Ser Brynden Tully, Lady Maege Mormont and Lord Galbart Glover aboard the Motherfunker.
Before Ser Brynden escaped Riverrun alone, he and Lord Tully reviewed all their options during Edmure’s short visit. An escape on land had many risks to be recaptured or killed, but at sea it was far fewer … and having a faster ship helped. They would allow Edmure and Jeyne to be peacefully escorted by their captors to Casterly Rock as hostages, only to be rescued from the shoreline. Lady Sybell Spicer swore her brother Ser Rolph would lead the way inside the caves. “Honor, not honors,” were House Westerling’s words. And Robb Stark showed more honor to Lady Sybell’s family than any of the other Westermen could. King Robb made her daughter a Queen, while King Tommen gifted Ser Rolph with the cursed ruins of Castamere from the notorious Lannister song. This honor was more of an insult than a reward.
One night aboard the Motherfunker, Olyvar took out a fresh new flat parchment to write a letter that was meant for his father. He held his feathered quill upright, but did not know how to start. He was fidgeting as he stared up around his cabin. He began to tap the pointy end of the quill and pricked his other hand by chance. Frey blood began to trickle from the wound along with a stinging pain. Cashing in on the moment, he then knew what to say. He dipped the blood smeared quill into the black inkpot, and began to pour his soul & anger onto the kin he no longer wanted.
Father, I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that is real. The needle tears a hole. This old familiar family sting. I try to forget it all the way. But I remember everything. I find myself asking … “What have I become? My sweetest King? Will everyone I love go away in the end?” And Father, you can have it all. My empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make it hurt. If I could start again, many miles back at home that night. To save my King, I would sacrifice myself. I would find a way. Your son Olyvar.
He rolled the parchment and laid a tablespoon of wax from his tallow candle at the edge. Olyvar pressed the button with his bleeding thumb, filling the stamp in a marble of white, red and pink; sealing it with his own blood. He placed the rolled parchment in his breast pocket, hoping to leave it somewhere in Casterly Rock and eventually reaching his father’s hands.
On the deck of the Motherfunker a few nights before … crewmen, Riverlands and Northern loyalists sang, drank, and cheered to the music of the masterplan. Though most wanted to spill blood to avenge the Red Wedding, humiliating their enemies would be the sweeter revenge: the story that sings in songs. But not all were there for vengeance. Some were just there for the adventure.
The Captain of the Motherfunker was there for the honor of joining their song. He wanted to look into the eyes of the lion, be a part of the thrill of the fight, rising up against our rivals. He also owed Ser Rolph Spicer a favor from their long smuggling history together at sea. If he helped rescue his niece Jeyne from the rocky castle, he would consider the debt paid, and the Black Sparrow was happy to oblige.
“So we are here to rescue this princess? No?” Samullu spoke in the broken Common Tongue
“No, not a princess, she is a queen,” Olyvar chatted.
“In the Summer Isles, a princess and a widowed queen is the same person. My father was king, but he died when I was a babe. My princess mother was the one who raised me after my uncle took the throne. I loved my mother. I named my swanship for her after she died a few years ago.”
“Motherfunker?” Olyvar asked. “What is a funker?”
“Where I am from, fighting and dancing is called the same thing. We call it funk. We funk to fight, we funk to dance, and we also funk to love. And the skill of our funk we always inherit from our mother’s side. I got it from my mama.” The black single-eyed captain pleaded. “Yo got yo from yo mama too. ‘Motherfunker’ is just a homage to one’s mother for giving us this art of our body’s motions.”
Olyvar never knew his mother, but he was very intrigued to hear more about Samullu’s and their culture. They chatted for quite a while.
Olyvar thanked him for helping them. But Samullu insisted it was the right thing to do after hearing about the horrors of the Red Wedding. “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers! And yo will know I am the Captain when I lay my vengeance upon thee!”
Olyvar never knew the Black Sparrow was so pious to the gods of avengers.
Sharing rum together, Olyvar sung to him about his own story in depth. Captain Black Sparrow was impressed about his journey so far and he gave Olyvar a small jar of dirt. “This is soil from my empire back in the Summer Isle. I have a whole barrel of it to remind me of home. Here, take this other small gift as well.” He then took out a bird’s feather, long as a flute, bright and colorful. “We Summer Isle people have feathered cloaks, yo see it on all of us. But feathers like this one were meant for some of the bravest and baddest motherfunkers out there. I want yo to take it Ser Olyvar. Let it be yo warrior’s funk.”
Olyvar took it with his hand and gave it a warm stare. The feather was colored like a fading rainbow top to bottom, but the stem was yellow like a lemon. “Thank you.” The gifts were quite odd. By value it was not much, but it seemed like it meant a lot to the exiled prince, the type of gifts worth remembering.
“So what do yo need besides a miracle?” Samullu asked.
“Weapons. Bows and arrows. Lots of arrows.” Olyvar was serious.
“Aye, and I have a lot. Yo know, no one has ever done anything like what yo and the Blackfish’s men are about to do.”
“And that is why it will work.”
The plan was to allow Lord Edmure Tully and Queen Jeyne Stark to safely travel to Casterly Rock unmolested, under the command of Ser Forley Prester and his four hundred men. Lord Gawen Westerling and his son Rollam were to return to the Crag, but Lady Sybell was to stay with Jeyne, maintaining what deceptions she can conjure. Her bluff with Ser Jaime Lannister worked, earning the slightest trust from them before their escape at Casterly Rock. An attempt to rescue them on their path down the River Road would invite the Lannisters to execute the hostages on the spot, failing the objective’s purpose. To stealthily hunt down each soldier one by one would have proven even then, a mission of the impossible. Stirring fear in the hearts of the Lannister soldiers was the only solution, the effective psychological weapon. Ser Prester’s men have been haunted by the ghosts of the Brotherhood without Banners throughout the Riverlands, and the Blackfish would use that to his advantage. With the help of their fastest horse, Bubbles, mounted by Justin Smallister, a distant cousin to House Mallister of Seagard, he would tie empty nooses on trees ahead of Ser Forley’s route. The hope of the hoax would keep the Lannisters on edge, making it difficult to rest. Only when they reached the castle of Casterly Rock, they would drop their guards down, thinking the hard part was over. But on the exact evenfall on the day of their arrival, Lord Gawen Westerling and our small land forces, hidden in the eastern woods outside, would sound the trumpets and drums, drawing the weary soldiers to arms again. But the Blackfish was to infiltrate Casterly Rock from the western sea. Ser Rolph Spicer, our secret agent inside, will bond with Jeyne’s guards, drinking with them throughout their journey. Only on the hour of the escape, Ser Spicer would drug the guards’ ale, allowing them to fall asleep during the diversionary music. The Blackfish and his squad would provide armed escort, if needed. Ser Spicer would also help them navigate inside the caves, rescuing his niece Jeyne and their family back to the Motherfunker. By then, it would be too dark for the Lannisters to give chase into the ocean, if they even realized Queen Stark had flown off.
“I need twenty good men,” the Blackfish had demanded. A few hundreds of the remaining Stark loyalists and outlaws gathered at the docks, where the Motherfunker was anchored.
“And one more woman too!” the She-Bear crone proclaimed.
The men laughed in agreement as Ser Brynden continued. “I need volunteers only. Soldiers who want this fate to f*ck them from behind in their arses! For the twenty one of us, we will be in harm’s way, make no mistake about it. I do not expect us to be discovered, but if we were, our escape will not be easy like our brothers working the diversion in the woods. I need men quick on their feet, proficient with the bow, and skilled at close-quarter hand-to-hand combat. Who are my brave men that will be knocking on the Lannister’s doors?”
Ser Olyvar Frey thundered in first and raised his hand. Jeyne’s words echoed in his thoughts, Promise me Olyvar, promise me.
Alesander Frey surprised him. “No you fool! You are not a skilled fighter. Put your hand down!” Olyvar told his nephew.
“I am a grown man, and I will not miss this adventure for nothing,” Alesander protested to his uncle.
“You are just a singer.”
“Then I want to be a witness to this great deed and be the first singer of our new song.”
Olyvar could not stop his brother & nephew from doing something so stupid.
Ser Raynald Westerling the Seashell Knight raised his hand too, eager to save his sisters Jeyne and Eleyna, and his mother Sybell.
Others began to join. Some had their reasons, some had their vengeance, some just wanted to try something new.
Fess stepped up. He was a long lost uncle to Ser Addam Marbrand after a lengthy voyage at sea. But Ser Addam refused to believe him, denying him a small chunk of land near Ashemark that Fess was entitled to own. He called his uncle an imposter and casted him out of the region. Fess swore he was a Marbrand, and swore he would unleash a storm on their household if they did not give his piece of land back. To the future of reclaiming his name by shaming theirs, Fess Marbrand was recruited into our efforts against the Lannisters and their bannermen.
The Summer Islander, Ben, and his Westerosi-born son, Benjen, were farmers from the Neck. Years ago, Lord Rickard Stark had welcomed the immigrant and his wife, granting them farm lands to flourish in. They grew rice in the marsh and exported it from White Harbor. They were so grateful to House Stark that they quite frankly named their son “Benjen” for Lord Stark’s youngest child of similar age. Since then, their hard earned work with their rough black hands in the cold had paid off in prosperity. After being widowed, Ben and his son ran the farm, just the two of them … until a few Ironborn men took Moat Cailin and all their harvest this past year. Their will and pride refused to let them take it again. So instead of growing new rice, they let it wither away and left the land … trapping the jaws of the Ironborn to hunger. Now Ben and Benjen were reborn into Ser Brynden’s band, for the honor of House Stark. “With great honor comes a great ass whooping!” Ben had declared.
Jess and Jory were two brothers that served House Westerling as guards at the Crag, personally protecting the Westerling sisters, Jeyne and Eleyna. They had watched them grow up since birth. Participating in their rescue was their duty, a duty they took without hesitation for the girls who were like nieces to them.
Phyl was a crewmate of royal blood on the Motherfunker. Back on another Summer Isle kingdom, his older king brother passed away as his young prince nephew took fresh rule. After Phyl forbade his nephew-king to order an attack on a rival neighboring island, he screamed at him, “You are not my father!” and flew out of the throne room, slamming its double doors. Soon after, the boy-king ordered for his uncle’s exile. Free like a bird, Phyl flew away himself to a ship with his friend, the Black Sparrow, looking for a new adventure.
Sam, June, and Rico were all hard loyal Tully soldiers that were ready to follow the Blackfish to the end of the world. Sam used to be a tall fat leviathan of a man, until one day June told Sam, “You never had the making of a first-class athlete like Rico here.” From then on, Sam, offended, lost several stones over the years as the three served patriotically together to House Tully. Now tall, lean and muscular, Sam was a force not to be reckoned with. They nicknamed him Sam the Shredder, but for shredding his fat as his body was now packed with muscular meat.
The hedge knight Ser Barnabus the Goose volunteered along with his new squire Leo, a boy of fourteen, whom he met that same day. Goose was a tall man, big shoulders, wide hips with greying blond hair. Though he grew up as an orphan, Ser Barnabus often boasted about being the grandson of some legendary tall hedge knight that he never chanced to meet. The other orphans used to laugh at him, calling him the Useless Goose. But ever since he suited up in his knightly armor decades ago, Ser Barnabus assured he was a useful Goose helping the small folks around the Riverlands. Olyvar wondered if Barnabus was his real name, or if he was even a knight.
Leo’s older brothers wanted to join the action as well … so Mikkal, Raff, and Donal stepped forward. Their uncle Scrooge, a man in his fifties, will chip in his services too. The four brothers and uncle were known as the Pissa family. They once owned a tavern serving their mother’s recipe of baked thin crispy bread, spun circular into a flat pie, served with tomato sauce and cheese above. Their uncle Scrooge improved his sister’s recipe by adding sliced duck sausages on top of the cheese, and charging customers extra for the option. Olyvar and the men on the Motherfunker had sampled and enjoyed the cuisine they baked aboard. Captain Samullu claimed that pissa was indeed a tasty dish, and suggested adding slices of pineapples on top of it too. The Pissa brothers gave Samullu Jaqenssen a cold stare as if the gesture was treason to the recipe. Back when they owned the tavern with their mother, the family often boasted about their food to the point where their competitors despised them. Their opponents would try to mimic cooking the same dish, but others would complain it tasted no different than bread. Afraid of losing their revenue, they insulted their mother’s crispy dish by calling it “pissa,” slandering it by saying it tasted like piss. But the brothers took the name their enemies gave them and wore it like armor, never allowing it to hurt them. Raff returned their insult by calling their adversary’s food being something that comes out of a cow’s bung hole. That humiliation stuck. For a while, men and women from all over the Riverlands continued to rallied in long lines to the Pissa tavern for a delicious slice of pissa. Sadly one day, the Mountain and his men came to destroy their tavern during the war, and took their mother. They never saw her again. Despite the sad drama, the Pissa family were a cheerful bunch, save for their pessimistic uncle. Olyvar could only hope they would find their mother safe and sound some day.
On the first day aboard the Motherfunker, Leo had never been on a ship his entire life. He bolted to the stern of the galley, stood on the middle rail with his arms spread out and screamed, “I’m the king of the world!”
Olyvar had to grab the blond teen down before he fell overboard. “Nice try Leo,” Olyvar said. “But you are too lowborn to be royalty. You are better off marrying a queen to be a king, or at least start with a princess.”
Ser Barnabus the Goose appeared and offered his help. He was in need of a squire for some reason, and Leo was quite eager. “Leo, I’m going to teach you how to live.” Goose swung his arm around the teenager’s neck and rested it there. “You want to be a king and win the ladies? Learn how to squire for a knight first. Unchain and fetch me my stallion from the docks, I’ll show you a trick. I’ll show you how to ride it on this rocking ship!” Leo did as he was ordered.
“And when will I ever need that skill?” Leo questioned as he brought the horse up to the deck from the ramp.
“What was it you were looking for again on this journey? Your destiny? Your death?” Goose mounted.
“Naked princesses,” Leo said.
“Well this move would make any maiden, royal or lowborn, shed their clothes off for you.” The knight pulled down the reins as the stallion stood tall on its two hind legs, looking like a work of art meant for eternal statues of the gods.
Samullu appeared and asked Leo, “Is that Goose on a horse? On my boat? Why is Goose on a horse on my boat?!” The stallion came down, hooves thundering the top of the deck.
“Aye Captain, Ser Goose was teaching me how to pick up women.”
“Shiitt Leo, that’s all you had to say.” Samullu wrapped his right arm around the neck of the youth and offered his counsel, his left hand danced in the air as he spoke to solidify his argument. “If yo want naked women, f*ck land. Don’t be a knight. Be a captain of a galley. The best pick up line to catch any woman yo can, is ‘I own a ship’.” Samullu raised his bearded chin. “After this mission is over, come with me and we’ll sail the seas. Meet women from all over the world. And they love a captain. Do yo concur? Leo, each lady is just a flower, another rose by another name that smell just as sweet, waiting to be plucked.”
Goose winced at the word and protested. “The only maids you meet sailing seas are mermaids. Don’t be fooled by the Black Sparrow. Some of them may be pretty on the top half, but you won’t like what they got below. It probably stinks down there too. But the captain doesn’t mind, he seems to enjoy bedding mermaids!”
Whether sea, air or land … the Black Sparrow or Goose … Leo will probably have to fly with one of them after the mission, Olyvar thought.
The night before the rescue, the raiders and the crewmen drunkenly sang and cheered to music, rum, ale and pissa. Drowning in the glory of their task on the morrow, they reminisce about the harsh archery and lethal weapons training Lord Glover had given them over the past weeks back on land … while questioning how large Lady Mormont’s sacs truly were. Lady Roslin Tully, approached everyone and asked if they would write their names on the book she held. “It’s for the memories,” she said. They all did. A signature on each page for each man and Maege. Some drew their own personal coat of arms. When it was Olyvar’s turn, he hesitated about sketching the two towers. He wanted to separate himself from the murderous lore of House Frey. He decided to draw his towers, with a Stark wolf running on top of the bridge, and a Tully trout jumping below it. He signed his name, Ser Olyvar of House Frey, squire to the late King Robb Stark, knighted by Ser Brynden Tully.
He wondered if he will be written into history as a great knight some day. A knight that could not save his king, Olyvar thought sadly. He would not be the only one though. Word had travelled for Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, and his gallant assault at Dragonstone. He was gravely wounded, but no word on this brave knight’s final fate. Like Olyvar, Ser Loras had failed to protect his first King, Renly Baratheon, a man that the Knight of Flower was rumored to have truly loved. Though his King was gone, he continued to be bathe in the glory of battle. Despite being on the opposing side of the war, Ser Olyvar would be gay if he had the chance to meet Ser Loras, if he still lives, chatting with him about the kings they loved and lost.
Later on that night, Captain Samullu Jaqenssen shared a drunken game of cvyasse with Ser Barnabus for a golden dragon. When Goose doubled down after his first loss, he fell again, owing the Black Sparrow a pair of golden dragons by the end of it. When Samullu demanded Goose to pay up his reward immediately, Goose pretended not to understand his loose Summer Isle accent, giving him a wild chase.
“Wat?”
“Yo loose Goose, yo owe me the gold,” the Captain demanded in his queer Common Tongue.
“Wat?”
“The gold yo fool. The gold! Yo pay me.”
“Wat?”
“Wat country yo from?”
“Wat?”
“Do they not speak the Common Tongue in Wat?”
“Wat?”
“Common Tongue mother Goose!”
“Wat?”
“Say wat again! I dare yo, I double dare yo! I’ll throw yo overboard off the Motherfunker!”
Goose paused for a moment, until his pride could not resist. “Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat?” Goose said ‘what‘ so many times, it sounded like he was quacking, each one louder than before. “Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat? Wat?”
In a nick of fury, Samullu Jaqenssen flipped over the cyvasse table, stood up and drew his short blade. His remaining good eye raged like a storm, as steam seeped through the black leather patch of the other. “Yo cold ass honking Goose! Yo son o’ a wh*re! Yo bandit! I will gut yo from balls to brains to see what gooses is made of. I better find yo sacs golden before I take yo skull to gild gold! Either way, I will have my gold from yo!”
Goose suddenly comprehended everything, stood up with all his height and threatened. “Goodness gracious, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Go ahead and try, but you will only find below me great balls of fire!” He grabbed his own crotch and pumped it once into the air. “And after your failed attempt, I will claw out your last remaining eye, leaving you blind for the rest of your sorry life!”
The others flocked towards the scene, holding the two back as they inched towards each other.
Jess tried to stop them. “Gods, have mercy!”
Sam the Shredder intervened as well. “That is enough! I want you two to stop!”
Jory said, “Cut it out!”
“Will yo shut up!” screamed Phyl, who had hustled a wager on the game.
Mikkal grabbed the drunken Goose, threw him to the floor, and told him to just beat it.
At the end, they all just laugh it off like all drunk men do. Smiling, spilling ale out of their cups, retching out into the sea the rum they drank, before drinking some more again. They were having one last good time before the mission. But today they had a job to do.
The twenty men, Lady Maege, and Ser Rolph continued up the paths in the lightless caves of Casterly Rock, huffing and puffing, but still silent as much as they could hold. One loud word at the wrong place at the wrong time may be their doom. In single file, the group followed Ser Spicer’s point with one lit torch. The stench was terrible and the dampness made it worse. Guarding the rear, Olyvar’s eyes were clouded in darkness at times where the torchlight was too far ahead to shine back. He relied on Ser Goose in front of him to lead the way, as Goose relied on Leo for the same.
[Part 3]

It is a friendship LDR not romance, but she tried romance...
I was 21 (girl) when I met this woman online on Facebook (she was 51), even the 30 years age gap we shared several interests about multiple things, movies, stories, religion, interests, books, animals cause... The first years in our friendship she was very shy, she had no friends at all, she always posted photos not looking at camera, she was EXTREMELY introverted and shy.
But we did voice calls, video calls (you could see she was a TRUE introverted), it was like we were soulmates, we shared so many multiple things. And I started to encourage her to "break her shell" and meet new people. It worked a little, I saw she little by little having small talks to other people, and I was so happy for her!
For context, she lives in her parents house downstairs, she is kind of poor, she works as a cleaner in a place, she never married, she never dated, she likes women, she hates men because of a childhood trauma I can't talk about, but she kissed one guy once in her teens.
So, hmm, somehow she fell in love with me, she confessed and stuff. I am very open to any kind of sexual orientation but I told her our age gap was too large and I was young, also I wanted to be with a guy, marry and get kids? Even so, she told she understood me, but would keep loving me forever. Well, well... This was about when I was 22-23 and her 52-53.
We kept our friendship relationship in our own way, everything was perfect, she HELPED so much with some of my traumas, when I was sad, when I was lonely, she was my refugee... In 2020 it was the worst period of my life, I had a terrible trauma, she helped me in a way that no simple friend or therapist could help, she was one of my salvations and for me being alive, she helped me with my depression and my suicidal thoughts, she encouraged me to go to a psychiatrist, she was basically an angel in my life. We are from different countries (she is from the United States) she even offered to pay for a ticket and passport for me, even if it was just to visit and cool off...
She still continued the romance story with me, when I was 24-25 years old. And I told her I started dating a guy from my country (we are in a LDR) but this isn't about him, he is very great to me! Well, she cried a lot, she even sent me naked photos and videos with her face!!!! (Which I told her to NEVER EVER do this to someone because some people can post on internet!!!) She was devastated, but she ended up understanding... Even so, she didn't stop making statements... She stills calls me "baby" and she says she loves me deeply and also says I am the only one who understands her soul.
But there is a problem, her communication is terrible, she can't express herself correctly, if you say you don't want to talk to her for a week she will obediently obey and don't even ask why! She says this is called respect for others. She takes everything literally, you can't write anything without it literally and she will take it extremely seriously. No joke, if you say you like eating ants, she will take it seriously and say something like "oh, ok, how does it taste? Don't you hurt yourself?" She doesn't take anything as a joke, everything is extremely serious.
Since December 2023 our communication has decreased a lot. She always says that no one understands her, that her parents don't understand her, that she is alone in this world and only has me. I was very busy with personal projects and college so I didn't have much time to communicate Her mother recently died in February, She only informed me 5 days later, even though I spoke to her before, I offered all my support and compassion. I tried to talk to her several times but she seemed a little out of touch with the world. I tried to send her messages, but she didn't respond until 3 in the morning. But I saw her on Instagram online and on Facebook all day... I told her about it and she just said "I was doing research" and I said I wanted her to talk to me, if she needed time alone I would understand but I wanted to be there to give my support.
That was in February, now we are in June, in the meantime I confess that I didn't try to talk to her anymore (maybe I did it wrong?) she just sent me a message every month at 3-4 am saying how sad she is and out of this world. In May, I saw she normally talking to people on Facebook posts so I angrily told her I needed some time apart from her because while I was so deeply worried about her, she was just having fun on random Facebook posts? She started being sad but accepted it. Two weeks after she told me her cat died, again I told her she could message me and i would give her my full support. She told she would talk to me next day because it was 3am! She did not. This was in May.
Today, She sent me a message saying she was sad, and I was really upset and I said, "are you sad? So why do you live all the time on Instagram and Facebook talking to other people instead of communicate with your faithful friend which you tell you love all the time (me) and when you do, you send me a message once a month at 3 in the morning?" More excuses came, she said she was looking for new friends this time. And I replied "Is this serious? While I was worried to death about you, hoping to communicate with you and find out everything that happened you were trying to have new friends now?!" I was so upset that I called her mean.
I tried several times to make her to see a therapist or a psychiatrist. I tried several, multiple times, she never listened to me. She has severe anxiety, panic attacks and ADHD. I talked to her mother once, and her brother a few times.
Nowadays she is 57 and I am 27.
My question is, is it worth to keep this friendship? I am feeling so hurt because she chose random strangers to be talking besides her "eternal loved friend". She helped me so much and I am attached to her somehow because I will be forever grateful how she helped me through my trauma.
Here are some of her messages about this:
I need you to talk with me, because they don't understand anything I go through! And they don't really even have time to~ I have panic attacks sometimes... But they don't know how to offer compassion~ Our whole family is like that, including my aunt, who is coming here next week... 😭🙏 I want to talk with you, Baby Loooo!! You can still talk to me, whenever you need to... 🙏 It makes me sad to see you so cold... 🥲❤‍🩹🦮🐕‍🦺🐕🐈🐢 It is heartbreaking enough to lose my mother, then her cat name... I prayed you would also stay by my side... 😿💌🧚🏻‍♀️🧚‍♂️ ~ I will always forgive you and stand by you~ 🙏👩🏻‍⚕️🕉️ I would never desecrate the Precious Gift that God has given us ... And it was a mistake, because you know how compassionate and sensitive I am! ~ It hurts me to see any peson or animal hurt~~ ESPECIALLY YOU!! ❤‍🩹💓 🙏🥲~ The grief I would have over losing you, would be even deeper than my grief about my mother passing... Because you always saw my Soul, and you have been closer than my own sister or brother...🧚‍♂️💌🧚🏻‍♀️ I'm also sorry for not understanding how deep your worry has been, for me... 🙏😔
Here are some of my messages:
I tried, her name. You pushed me away in every possible way By talking to other people while I was deadly worried about you. All I just wanted was to communicate to you, help you, understand what was going on... And now you don't even want me talking to your family to understand how you are You were truly mean. You were so mean to someone who truly cares for you. You were mean in every possible way You will make a million excuses now because you never admit that your mistakes have consequences I'm not a spare part for whenever you want me to be there, I have feelings, I waited 6 months for you to talk to me. When you didn't find anyone to connect with you came after me, that's horrible . You weren't in a shell, you were looking to other people to be friends with while you had the most faithful friend by your side You were deeply mean to me and my feelings You took me for granted

One of my husbands close friends from college decided to have a destination wedding in Cancun, Mexico next January. We just had a baby in April and don't feel comfortable bringing a baby under 1 year old to Mexico, or leaving our baby in the US while we leave the country for 4 days.
For this reason, I will not be attending the wedding. I honestly don't want my husband to attend the wedding either for a few reasons - the first being that it's going to cost at least $2-3k for a 4 day vacation (the hotel has a 4 night minimum), which I think is absolutely ridiculous and I also just don't feel comfortable with him leaving the country for 4 days.
The other thing that really bothers me is the fact that this friend is having the wedding in Cancun because they can't afford to have a wedding in the US and I think its horrible/tacky to pass on the cost of your wedding to your guests. This friend is also extremely immature and would throw a neverending temper tantrum if my husband said he couldn't attend the wedding. My husband is a people pleaser, so he feels like he has to attend the wedding but I completely disagree. I think this friend is asking too much of someone who has real responsibilities. I don't want to be the controlling wife that tells him what he can and can't do and who he should and shouldn't be friends with but this situation is bothering me. What would you do?

Hello everyone. I’ve loved cars since i was a kid, especially racing, F1, touring cars etc. I know i’ll get asked why i didn’t study automotive in college and in all honesty i don’t know why i didn’t looking back on it now i should’ve done exactly that but everyone makes mistakes. I’m 22 years old now and stuck in a job i utterly hate! i’ve decided i want to get into the automotive trade and was wondering how i would get myself in with no experience what so ever, even if im not working on cars but just doing something with cars i’ll be happy. I watch touring cars all the time and i always see some of the ‘pit crew’ behind the scenes just cleaning the cars. Any advice would be much appreciated i have no clue where to start or who to reach out to. thanks!

Hola, I’m Jorge, 34 years old from Spain, living in Germany since several years and work as team leader for an international company.
Physically I’m 185cm tall, around 95kg and working on losing a bit more, bit of dadbod figure. Brown eyes, shaved head, beard, earrings and a full arm tattooed and half of both legs, already started a full sleeve on the other arm. I don't smoke and very much appreciated if you didn't either, I drink socially or the casual beer after work. Here are two pics of me: https://imgur.com/a/FxUmNuJ
Personality wise and hobbies, I am mostly laid back, I have high adaptability, responsible, I wanna think I’m funny, but you’ll have to judge that, good listener, not so good communicator but working on improving every day. My love language is acts of service and quality time. I mostly spend my free time watching TV shows or movies, videogames (mostly PC and PS5), with the occasional book when I find something interesting. Recently I started cooking and baking more, with average results. I collect LEGO Star Wars. I also enjoy the eventual night out with dinner and drinks but my social battery depletes fast. I kinda like travelling but not the process of going to airport - plane etc.
What I’m looking for: Eventually a monogamous relationship, but open to take things slow and know each other, I want to find my player 2, a travel partner, and mainly a friend. Open for long distance within Europe, since nothing ties me to this country, open to relocation for the right person. I am not interested in children, but would like to eventually get a cat or dog.
If you share some of the hobbies I like that’s great, if not don’t hesitate to message me anyways, I'm open to try new things. Willing to move off reddit after chatting for a bit. Have a nice day!

I have been dating my boyfriend "Mike" for just under 18 months. Our relationship has become really serious, we have even started to discuss things like marriage, children, etc. We moved from England to Wales about 6 months ago because I got a job opportunity that required us to relocate. He was able to covert to working from home so has stayed employed by his old company.
We now live about 70 miles away from our hometown. Because it's so far we rarely visit home, maybe once every 6 weeks or so. Whenever we visit we stay with Mike's parents and every time we go his sister is incredibly obsessed with Mike and won't leave him alone. It's to the point where it's really weird and almost like she has some weird romantic feelings for him. I've brought this up to Mike and he says I'm being crazy, but I'm not. For example, she will snuggle up to him on sofa, so I have to sit somewhere else. She will ask for him to take her shopping to places that I don't like. She'll make him take her to restaurants and they'll have fancy meals together. It is SO weird how she treats him like a boyfriend.
They have a holiday to Spain booked for this summer holiday to the town where Mike grew up, they booked this before we were dating. But it is just them two going and it makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. I first asked for him to change the booking so I could come along as well, I said I would pay for the extra obviously. He said he contacted the travel agents but they weren't able to change the bookings anymore and that they couldn't book a separate package for me because the hotel was booked up.
Yesterday, I told him I think it is really weird that he wants to spend two weeks alone with her in a foreign country and when I said this to him he blew up at me and kicked me out the house. Like genuinely kicked me out the house for just questioning him about this which has made me feel it's even more weird than I thought. We ended up having a huge argument, like the biggest we've ever had. And now I am considering booking a separate hotel nearby the one they're staying at just so I can keep an eye on her. I have been texting him and ringing him and he hasn't answered or responded to me at all.
I don't understand how he doesn't see this is weird, especially considering how obsessed she is with him as I mentioned earlier. It just makes me feel sick and I don't know what to do. How do I express to him that this is not normal? How do I show him there is something weird about how his sister treats him?

Hello ,I come from a middle class family both my mother and my father has been working hard to make ends meet ,Their belief in god has become stronger day by day because of me whenever their out of money somehow some person would pay to my father for my fathers work to make it simple some new customer would come for his business. this happend especially during my school and college where my fathers buisness would run dry due to the countries falling economy, but just when its time for my father to pay my fee some new customer would appear not only this alot of other minor miracles would happend not just regariding money other miracles have has happend , we believe that this was the grace of god as this all happened at a perfect timely event .now I'm old enough to earn myself I only came to understanding of this miracles now (very late when i was young and heard of this miracles i think to myself everything is just happening in conincidence ,when i was a kid i did not understand such miracles and blessing )i only to understanding of how god would work and how he shows his miracles very recently and came know that god was always there for me i have done a few sins which i have repented and have accepted god as my savior now im in another country and have finished my Masters by the grace of god please do keep me in mind and pray for my success in life i have 2 questions which i need answer
1)i have repented to god and have done the same sin again and repented again but now im free from it so will god accept my apology ? (I only decided to get myself out of that sin after understand how god shows his miracles and how god would talk to me )
2) I have came to another country with a student loan as my parents believed that I am supposed to come abroad and get a visa and live there that what god as kept for me they said so since even i believe in myself that its god's plan so is this hope good or just my stupidity ?

I’m a 21F and I’m married to 22M. We’ve been married for 1 year. We have 1 child together, 2 months old. We’ve been having alot of issues lately since the birth of our child.
Financial issues, communication issues, responsibility issues, and just overall across the board it’s been a struggle bus. I don’t feell very valued or appreciated in my marriage for many reasons. The first being, I do everything for our child. I’m a stay at home parent and when my husband gets home, he doesn’t provide me with any relief.
He’s comes, gives me a kiss, grabs his dinner and a glass of wine and heads into his office for the remaining portion of the night until our daughter is asleep. Meaning I give baths, clean up after dinner and make dinner, clean up the house, read stories, brush teeth, the whole nine yards. By the time she is asleep I’m in need of a adequate break myself. My husband is almost like my 2nd child.
He only comes out of his office to give our daughter a kiss goodnight after I have already done everything. He drops his dish from dinner in the sink, does not wash it mind you, and goes back to his office. Once she is asleep, the first thing he asks me for is sex. Like I’m not tired from being with our daughter all day, cooking and cleaning. The sex doesn’t feel as it once did. It’s now a chore. The only one receiving pleasure is himself, he doesn’t go down on me, but wants oral from me often. The sex we do have is fast and lacks passion and intimacy. I’m often left feeling unsatisfied.
Not only does he not meet my needs but he also does not support me in the way I need to be supported. We don’t watch tv together, we don’t go on dates, he doesn’t cook or clean up after himself, leaves stuff behind for me to pick up like dirty clothes and dirty dishes. I feel like a maid. I get no breaks from our daughter except when she is asleep. And even than when she wants or needs something, she is always directed to me.
My husband is insecure. He doesn’t like me going places on my own and he doesn’t like me dressing in clothes that make me feel comfortable. For example, shorts are a no because “my thighs and butt look too nice”. Tank tops are a no because my “breasts and waist can be seen”. And leggings are also a no because they are too “tight”. My husband tells me I am seeking male validation by wearing clothing like that.
And lastly, I have no friends. I have a somewhat close relationship with my cousin who grew up with me. However, my husband hates her. She’s more free spirited in terms of clothing and attitude and my husband even said if she wasnt my cousin he wouldn’t want me talking to her because of her behavior.
This post is getting long so I’ll end it here. But I’m tired. I want to live a normal life and enjoy doing things a normal 21 year old does, but my husband is so controlling and unhelpful I feel like I’m trapped. I have no family support or help from anyone. My parents live in another country.
TL:DR My husband is controlling and unhelpful and I feel like I’m trapped.

So I’m 34 years old Israeli, woman, who has been living her whole life in Israel. I lived through many wars and operations (golf war, the second intifada, second Lebanon war which I have ptsd from, operation cast lead, operation pillar of cloud and strong cliff)
I am no stranger to terror attacks and being hated in world, even after all these things people still hated us, we can never be victims for some reason. I thought something would change on October 7th. I really thought, we gotta get this out to the world, the world has to know!!! Now they will see why we have to do what we are doing in Gaza, to defend ourselves and prevent stuff like this!
I was wrong. On October 8th I saw people celebrating the invasion where so many people died horribly. I saw people cheering for Hamas saying they are freedom fighters and that it was a brave thing to do. For almost two months I couldn’t sleep right, there was also rockets for straight two months where I stayed home not working.
And now? The world doesn’t care. They deny it!!! How have we come to this point where we are so hated after something like this?? Every country would’ve reacted the same if not worse. I’m am so scared to say I’m Israeli, or Jewish, I’m so scared we will be left alone and isolated from the rest of the world. In Israel things are not good, the economy is bad, the government is bad and they must go!! I don’t see a way out, I wish I could move but two things are holding me back: 1. I don’t have any other nationality 2. I don’t want to move, I love Israel.
I guess I just needed to vent a little, I feel very alone as an Israeli, I also fear that some Jewish people hate Israel now because we made Jews look bad around the world and now you are suffering from it. I am so so sorry that antisemitism is rising and that some of you are experiencing it. It breaks my heart.
I’m sorry that this is so long. Thank for reading and please share your thoughts with me❤️🪬

I have been depressed for a long time. About 5 or so years ago I moved away from a place with people I felt like I truly belonged with. The place I moved was a tiny, tiny island. I went to one of the only English-focused schools that was on the island. My class had about 6 people in it. I never really connected with any of them. Thankfully, I remained connected to my friends from my previous location. But, it was different. They went to parties and hung out irl and talked about the newest shit that happened in their school. I was disconnected in some way. This, coupled with the pandemic that hit made me fall into a deep pit that I never got out of. I would wake up go to school go to sleep and repeat. But a highlight of this place was my dog. I loved my dog so much. She would be the only thing I was excited about when I came home. But not even that could get me out of the muck I was in. I didn't shower for months during online school, so how could I possibly get out of bed to walk her. I still loved her. I played videogames with my overseas friends but we never talk about our feelings. Male friendships are like that. When I moved to my final location, my family brought her with us. My depression got so bad I stopped showing up to school. I found attempting to make friends exhausting. Not showing up became this feedback loop of not showing up and feeling shame in showing up. I spent the last year and a half of high school online, and passed. And then my dog died. She started acting weird one day and then two days later she started yowling in pain. We took her to the e.r. A stay in the I.C.U would have costed a ridiculous amount, so my mother said we should just take the recommended medicine and go home. When she got home, she start gasping for air, and that was it. Autoimmune disease or something. Just like that. And I could never give her the quality of life she deserved. No one but me and my dad even walked her. But she never complained. And the last year my dad has been overseas. She died so young too. 4 years old. My depression has not only eaten my life up, but it has greatly harmed another. She died like, 30 minutes ago. I can't even look at her fucking body. She was in so much pain. Now I have nothing.

My husband is controlling and unhelpful and I feel like I’m trapped.
I’m a 21F and I’m married to 22M. We’ve been married for 1 year. We have 1 child together, 2 months old. We’ve been having alot of issues lately since the birth of our child.
Financial issues, communication issues, responsibility issues, and just overall across the board it’s been a struggle bus. I don’t feell very valued or appreciated in my marriage for many reasons. The first being, I do everything for our child. I’m a stay at home parent and when my husband gets home, he doesn’t provide me with any relief.
He’s comes, gives me a kiss, grabs his dinner and a glass of wine and heads into his office for the remaining portion of the night until our daughter is asleep. Meaning I give baths, clean up after dinner and make dinner, clean up the house, read stories, brush teeth, the whole nine yards. By the time she is asleep I’m in need of a adequate break myself. My husband is almost like my 2nd child.
He only comes out of his office to give our daughter a kiss goodnight after I have already done everything. He drops his dish from dinner in the sink, does not wash it mind you, and goes back to his office. Once she is asleep, the first thing he asks me for is sex. Like I’m not tired from being with our daughter all day, cooking and cleaning. The sex doesn’t feel as it once did. It’s now a chore. The only one receiving pleasure is himself, he doesn’t go down on me, but wants oral from me often. The sex we do have is fast and lacks passion and intimacy. I’m often left feeling unsatisfied.
Not only does he not meet my needs but he also does not support me in the way I need to be supported. We don’t watch tv together, we don’t go on dates, he doesn’t cook or clean up after himself, leaves stuff behind for me to pick up like dirty clothes and dirty dishes. I feel like a maid. I get no breaks from our daughter except when she is asleep. And even than when she wants or needs something, she is always directed to me.
My husband is insecure. He doesn’t like me going places on my own and he doesn’t like me dressing in clothes that make me feel comfortable. For example, shorts are a no because “my thighs and butt look too nice”. Tank tops are a no because my “breasts and waist can be seen”. And leggings are also a no because they are too “tight”. My husband tells me I am seeking male validation by wearing clothing like that.
And lastly, I have no friends. I have a somewhat close relationship with my cousin who grew up with me. However, my husband hates her. She’s more free spirited in terms of clothing and attitude and my husband even said if she wasnt my cousin he wouldn’t want me talking to her because of her behavior.
This post is getting long so I’ll end it here. But I’m tired. I want to live a normal life and enjoy doing things a normal 21 year old does, but my husband is so controlling and unhelpful I feel like I’m trapped. I have no family support or help from anyone. My parents live in another country.
TL:DR My husband is controlling and unhelpful and I feel like I’m trapped.