I guess this could also be delayed grief. I have no idea what I’m even trying to say in this, I just can’t imagine speaking these thoughts to anyone in my life right now because I just can’t stand the way people look at me or speak to me or go quiet when I talk about him. Today just sucks.
I thought it would be last year that would suck, being ten years without him. And it did, but it sucks as much as it always does. Right now feels particularly hard.
I’m just thinking about how unfair it all is. I was 10 when I lost him, and I’m just thinking about how much I’ve missed out on with him. How much he has missed out on in his kids lives. Which doesn’t feel fair, because he had some shitty fucking things go on for him throughout his life and I think he at least deserved to watch his kids grow up. And it’s not fucking fair for me either. I looked up his obituary impulsively at work, and someone had left a story there about him that I’d never seen or heard. And I can’t imagine how many stories I’m missing out on, or how many things he could’ve guided me through. And I just feel so angry and tired about it all.
I just got my first apartment last year, and my moms boyfriend helped me build the bed and get it up all the stairs. He’s a sweet guy, we aren’t close, and it’s not his fault, but that should’ve been my dad. I don’t want men to do anything for me because it just fucking sucks because that should be my dad helping me, it shouldn’t be some fucking guy it should be him. I should be able to introduce him to all my partners, I want him to walk me down the aisle, I want to hear all his crazy stories, I want to show him stupid Tik toks and let him meet my cat. I wish that he had been there when I dropped out of school, when I went to detox, when I was couch surfing and trying to stay sober. I wish I could’ve gone to him. I wish he could’ve been there when I finally graduated, and when I got my dream job.
I want him to embarrass me in front of my friends, I want to make fun of him for being old, I want to listen to his ridiculously mish mash mixtape that was way too long, I want to show him what music I like. I want to show him all my tattoos, I want him to be disappointed in my new stupid tattoo ideas. I wanted him to be there when I was being a stupid teenager and tell me to stop being an idiot.
I want to scream at every man who tried to father me for daring to try and take his spot when that was his job and that was for him nobody else deserves to take that role from him just because he isn’t here.
I want to go back to when I was little, and we were sitting in his car just us and playing around with the new speech to text and he was reciting the jabberwocky poem, and we couldn’t stop laughing at the nonsense it typed out, and I want to stay in that car forever.
Today sucks. And FUCK cancer.

Hey guys, the title says it all. In October of 2023 my mom disappeared and hasn't been seen since. I don't know what happened to her and her lack of communication has led me to believe she has been taken. My intuitions told me she died in January (I don't know who killed her although I'm guessing it's the Latin Kings gang-my intuitions tell me the woman in my house living with me is a member).
My dad and aunt are also fake as I see details on their face inconsistent with what is visible on pictures I have of them. I don't know what has happened to my real folks. I think they all disappeared on the same day in October (I don't remember what happened exactly, it was a long time ago). My brain is telling me that she is playing me big time, that I will get kidnapped ("taken"), and that she will hide my money.
I don't have a job and don't think I can get one anytime soon due to the grief of having lost my family members. I think my cousins are dead in Cuba and I can't get a hold of anyone because of these fake family members I have to monitor. Please don't tell me it's Capgars syndrome. I've heard that enough and you guys weren't here to see what happened and the subtle differences in facial appearance I have picked up on.
I think my life is in danger. I can call police and tell them to get rid of her but they will send me to the hospital because I have no proof I can show of her fakery and I don't know how to take care of myself. I have rent coming in from a building that I can use as income but I don't know how to collect it meaningfully and will get thrown out of my apartment as I don't know how to pay the rent not to mention I will be alone. I have no other family I can communicate with at this time as a buffer. What should I do if this woman is a gang member?

So I binge-watched Shogun in the last 5 days, which I know is a travesty because I should have drawn it out longer, but here we are. I knew absolutely nothing about the show beforehand except that it had been recommended as "good". I didn't know it was based off a book (books?), or that it had been a TV series before. I will be honest, the first episode had me a little wary. To be frank, I was less than enthused about the prospect of ten episodes with Pilot/Blackthorne as the protagonist, as I thought might be the case. What followed was probably one of most surprising TV watching experiences I have ever had. I've never cried more times watching a TV show, let alone in such a short span of time. I am not exaggerating when I say that-- Mariko's near-suicide? Cried. Next episode when she is revealed dead? Cried. Blackthorne safely leaving Osaka? Lady Ochiba finishing the poem? Yabushige's death? Fuji spreading the ashes? Each time.
This show emotionally wrecked me so profoundly in just 10 episodes. The performances of the central cast were unbelievable. The show had an emotional clarity and a level of intentionality in certain scenes that I can't recall seeing recently in television. I'm used to watching some shows with very carefully crafted plots like russian dolls, where every scene fits into the next, and there is always a sense of "pace" and elaborate structure. It can be overwhelming an unwieldy. This show had scenes, like the tea room with Mariko and Buntaro for instance, that did advance the plot, but it was a scene that almost felt like it asked the viewer to -stop- the plot, and just watch tea being prepared. There were many moments like this.
Of course, there were many problems with the show as well-- in a first pass, there were a lot of things I didn't understand while watching, I had to watch them back or look up online afterwarrds in an episode recap to figure out what I had misunderstood in a character's actions-- which, you might say is my fault for not having read the books or seen previous shows, but maybe the show was a little disjointed. Also, I'm sure others have a lot to say about this, but maybe the beginning felt slow and the ending felt rushed?
All in all, one of the best acted shows I've seen, one of the most unique shows I've seen-- in the sense that they could have chosen to create a tv series with more fighting, action, sex, etc., but they wanted to make something that has those, but also grief, beauty, poetry, family, duty, etc. I know those are themes in other shows, I just appreciate how earnestly and effectively they were represented here.

Just over 9 years ago, my father died. I am now 21, but I was 12 at the time.
More so now than ever, I'm trying to learn to grow into adulthood with a healthy relationship of the grief of my childhood. Really, I'm struggling.
I remember nothing between 8 and 12 other than suffering. I lost two grandparents (the other two had already passed long before), an auntie and uncle, and a cousin in law. Growing up, my life felt defined by death.
My father had a brain tumour, diagnosed around the time I was born. My parents divorced when I was 8, my father moved into his own flat, and things got progressively worse following it.
My father was a proud man, a refugee from Hungary who worked his way to a job in tech. He was extremely loving, and held strong moral principles. Seeing this made fade over time crushed me.
I watched my father die over a number of years, of which I hold countless, horrible, memories. I remember hugging him, feeling little but bone and saying; 'Dad, you need to eat!'. I remember him arguing with my mothrt when she used to buy him food and clean his flat, she cared deeply about him and did all she could. He just didn't want it, I think he had given up. I remember watching the news with him once, and he said 'the thing about the news is, it's only designed to be watched for 15 minutes at a time, that's why they repeat themselves'. Now, every time I watch the news I can't help but wreath in pain at the fact that sitting in that flat, dying, alone, watching the same thing over, and over again was his reality. I remember looking at care homes for him with mother and, when she was asked by the staff whether he was terminal, she simply stated 'yes, he will sadly die'. I remember the period leading up to his death. He had fallen in his flat, and, if it weren't for my Mum demanding that the staff let us in, he would have died there alone. I remember seeing him fallen. I remember the care home that treated him horribly, sometimes we'd visit and he'd be lying on the floor in only his t-shirt. Worst of all, I remember seeing him on the brink of death at the hospital in his final days. I remember the drive to hospital the night he died. I will never forget what seeing my father about to die felt like.
Part of me doesn't even know why I have just typed out my most traumatic memories of my father's life on Reddit. I know I have been wanting to post for awhile, I guess I just found it too difficult.
Honestly, I am simply in pain. It hurts so badly. I cannot shake the memories. They feel like they define me, like I will never be able to escape the feeling of death that follows me around.
For those who have gotten this far, thank you for taking the time to read this. If you have any advice, please let me know. I'm struggling.

Hey y’all,
I feel a mix of emotions and I don’t really have anyone to talk to. I haven’t had my period in almost 8 months now. My PCOS really has been fucking with my health, especially in the last year. Chronic pain, insomnia, etc. usual PCOS issues that never go away… Anyways, my two cousins just announced their pregnancies… and my wonderful sister who told the news as well.. just told me today she’s having twins. I am so so happy for the women in my family… but I am sad, and I am trying so hard to not feel like a failure of a woman because I can’t even ovulate. I’ve started supplements and started trulicity this past week… I just want a period and to feel like a woman, and just hearing how successful everyone else has been really fucking hurts. I’m 23, and getting married in November. l don’t want children right this moment, but that’s not even a fucking concern because I can’t even function internally. I just don’t want to tell anyone about how I feel because it will bring the mood off. But every time my family has dinner or anything, it’s baby baby baby. And my brother and his wife have a 1.5yo already right now. I’m going to be surrounded by kids for the next 10 years. Why is my body like this :( I feel grief and jealousy and sadness. But I truly am happy for my family members. I don’t know.

I'm really having a lot of trouble processing my emotions, and the grief that came with my Dad's passing.
It will be nearly three years since throat/lung cancer and alcoholism took him. ( We all tried our hardest to help him to quit and get help. But he was a stubborn old git that refused to let anyone help him, let alone let his kid see him like that. )
My Dad was prideful. He never asked for help, and if it was given ( especially money ) he always gave it to someone that needed it more than he did. He was a genuinely wonderful, and amazing man. Though he had his faults there was still a spark or wonder and kindness within him.
I loved him. Still love him. We all do.
I just haven't felt right since he died. I never got to say 'goodbye' to him.
Circumstances prevented me from getting there on time. I had just stepped into his apartment, set my bags down and was chatting with my cousin for a moment before my Aunt called to tell me: "Sweetheart, he's gone. I'm sorry. Gods, I'm so sorry.."
Dad never wanted anyone to see him weak.
He fought tooth and nail to protect those he loved and those that couldn't protect themselves.
I miss him so damned much.
All I want to hear is the sound of his footsteps, and his rumbly voice saying:: "Hey, Kiddo."
It's selfish of me to want him to come back when he's finally at peace. I know that.
I just miss him.
June 26th ( Sat ) 11:14AM is when I got the call.
He died on a rainy afternoon. I'll never forget how hollow I felt afterwards.
I still have so much to process. I'm really working on it, but right now with all the stress that about to reach a head, I find myself wanting to curl into a ball and give into old vices. But I know that would break my Dad's heart, so I'm resisting.
I don't know why I'm rambling so much. I just needed to vent.
Thank you.

I’m not a very emotional person, i don’t usually cry so when my cousin passed away about a year ago i couldn’t bring myself to cry because all i could think about was how he was probably happier wherever he is now. I didn’t cry at the funeral and i felt as if something was wrong with me because we were very close. About a month ago i had a dream where it was just him and i in a car together driving up this really long hill with lots of rounded turns and i remember us talking and having a good time and the one thing he said that i could remember was him telling me it was okay to not cry because he was much happier and he was doing great. I woke up after that and cried for hours because i felt like grief had really hit me like a truck, everything finally washed over me and it felt like a weight was lifted off my chest. What’s even crazier is that i don’t usually dream, like i go to sleep and wake up so for this to happen it felt like it was a real message from him, of course the skeptic in me is telling myself that it’s just my conscience telling me what i wanted to hear but another part of me wanted to believe that he truly came to me that night. Has anyone else had a dream like this?

I have posted on here before, last year was a rough one. I lost 2 nieces, 1 cousin, my brother n law and finally my mom back in September. Besides pulling myself together to make dinner for my wife and her kids ( on mothers day) I have been in bed watching TV really missing my mom. Things were going well, but With mothers day I just fell backwards into my grief. This morning I woke to a text that another cousin died of a massive heart attack. I am only 54, but it feels like this is all that's left, death and loss. I don't know how to feel, what to feel. I really thought my grief was heading in the right direction and then a trapdoor just flung open.

Why is it so difficult to write about you, love? Why is it different to love you?
I have always dreamt of you exactly as you are. I had never experienced love before you. I had given up hope of finding you, and then you came when I least expected it. You are exactly what I wished for all these years, exactly that.
I never wanted you to be good-looking, though you are. Prettier than the moon, I must say. You are everything I ever wished for.
You are my unbearable grief that took me years to overcome, as it never left my side. You are that anger in me that never found anyone to be angry with rightfully. You are that pain of mine that I never had the courage to show because I was too afraid of being judged. You are that disappointment I always expect before starting something, but it turns out to be an absolutely wonderful experience. You are my honesty that people hesitate to hear.
And you, you are the warm hands I always wanted to hold. You are those butterflies in my stomach that didn't end up being anxiety and eventually physical pain at midnight. You are the writer by whom I always wanted to be written. You are that beautiful poem I always wanted to read. You are the peace I always wanted to hear, as loud as it can get.
You are the home I was always seeking for years. You are that secure feeling of my heart where I am not scared to lose anything. You are the moon I love staring at for hours. I never found myself to be beautiful; I never found myself worthy of being loved. As I am experiencing it now, it feels new but not uneasy. I would never understand why anyone would ever love me, why anyone would write about me, why anyone would find me interesting, but I don't really want to know the answer to those questions. I'm just happy being loved and being able to love.
I love you!

*TW* Narcissistic/Emotional Abuse
I just learned there's an actual term for this. It's called "ambiguous grief".
I've addressed this problem a few times on a couple of different subreddits, but the situation has progressed to a point where I don't believe it can return from. For context, my best friend is currently dating my narcissistically abusive cousin who I realized has been emotionally abusing and manipulating me for years. Unfortunately, it was after they started talking that I realized all this and who he actually was. All the red flags I overlooked about him and all the things he's done to me has added to make up one big picture, that he's a narcissist and was trying to control me and my life through bullying and manipulation tactics.
Now he has a new target, my best friend, and is doing the same to her. The probably is that she is in very deep denial about his behavior and the danger she's in, even after I've warned her and explained to her repeatedly. She started pushing me away because I was trying to help her see the reality of the situation, but she did not want to. So it got to the point where I've had to step away from the friendship because seeing her suffer was to painful for me and like reliving what I went through with him all over again and she refuses my help because she doesn't want to feel the pain that comes with coming to terms with reality.
I'm now grieving our friendship and I miss her terribly. On top of that, I'm so worried about her because I know she's not in the right state of mind right now, AND in the hands of an abuser who is taking advantage of that. I'm not sure what else to do but grieve because the situation just seems impossible. I don't want to abandon her now when she needs me the most, but how can I help her when she doesn't believe she needs the help?

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I wanted to share my experience...
- during almost my entire life I was self-isolating, playing video games to the point of it becoming addictive, they degraded me mentally and physically...
- I was growing up with my abusive alcoholic father, at one point I was taken along with my Sisters by social services from him and we were fostered by our grandparents in another city.
- It was hard living in there, because we shared apartment with my cousins, mostly women, our cousins were going through hardship as well, my uncle was an alcoholic, he didn't beat my aunt like my father beat my mother but his alcoholism caused my cousins grief either way.
- I was bullied at school, when I came back "home" I lashed out, I was put to the ground hard BY MY COUSINS. My cousin's partners were also treating me badly, I didn't feel like a man there - I just wanted to feel respected at home, I craved that to HAVE SOME GLIMPSE OF SELF-WORTH... It was always my fault that I was weak...
I escaped from there back to my alcoholic father, my Sisters stayed.
- Back then in my Eastern European country there was a stage of education between primary school and high school, I was bullied through that stage too. I didn't have any chance to form any connection nor attachment with others, I was the odd one, an outcast, everyone's punching bag, I was weak physically and mentally, felt unattractive, couldn't differentiate between affection and attraction, some girls were nice to me humane, friendly - due to my OBSESSION WITH LACK OF MY OWN SELF-WORTH, I told myself that ANYONE TRYING TO HELP ME ONLY TOOK PITY ON ME, I saw pity as debilitating because IT MADE ME FOCUS ON MY BROKEN STATE EVEN MORE, that I can't handle life myself...
- In high school, being around my male friends was crippling me too, I felt INFERIOR and INSECURE around them, they went to the club I stayed, I was afraid that someone would pick on me and start bullying me and that I will ... JUST GET HUMILIATED WHILE EVERYONE WATCHES AND LAUGHS, I am sure my friends would defend me but what if they go somewhere, be busy... I HAD NOTHING TO DO AT THE CLUB EITHER WAY, NO GIRL WOULD TALK TO ME THERE, EVEN IF SHE DID SOME GUY COULD JUST COME OVER AND PUSH ME ASIDE... At the parties I only felt I don't belong there, that I have nothing interesting to say,that I will just look awkward or humiliate myself ...
It hurts like hell after reminiscing it. I thank anyone who reads it, I am gratefull for subreddits like this where I am FREE TO BE VULNERABLE IN SAFE ENVIRONMENT, where I can let my "guard" (maladaptive coping mechanism's that are mandatory for me IRL) down.
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I started playing this game a decade or so ago, with my cousin John. He was the greatest gaming companion I could have ever hoped for. Maxed all classes quickly and would take me along with him. I get overwhelmed pretty quickly by games, anxiety keeps me from playing sometimes. A lack of wanting to fail or cause grief. But he? He could tank, heal and dps with the best.
He had a lot of health issues and towards the end headaches that would keep him in bed for days. But when he would log on, he would let me know, and I would join him. We had our own discord that we would chat in, and just roam around and play.
When he passed away in 2017, I was 2 months from being a first time dad at 36. Up until the end he was so excited for me, and to meet my son.
After his passing, I didn’t play for a few years, coming back in 2019 to play for a while, and putting it down again for a few more years.
I got back on recently and buckled down. Paying more attention to mechanics, trying to push away the nervousness I feel doing anything group wise.
Tonight I finished Endwalker and I felt my cousin and friend with me. I watched the credits and felt a true sense of closure that I needed, we needed. My grandmother played FFIII when I was a kid, my cousin started at VI, and I sort of tagged along throughout.
I miss them both daily, but tonight I feel like my family was a little closer and it was a good feeling.
I miss you Lain Evermore, a true Scion.

https://www.reddit.com/GriefSupport/comments/1bykm11/anaia/
https://www.reddit.com/GriefSupport/comments/1bxzqi4/siste
About a month ago, I posted two separate posts on this subreddit about my younger sister, Anaia, who passed away on March 17th, 2024. In one post I gave photos, and in the other I wrote about her addiction, but I don't think I've really talked about myself.
It has been nearly two months since my little sister passed away, and I wouldn't describe it as grueling or depressing, just unusual. On April 22nd, it was confirmed to my family that Anaia died as a result of fentanyl toxicity, which was the reason I always assumed but to have it confirmed was very depressing. Yesterday, I went to my grandmother's house and there were a few copies of Anaia's death certificate, in the onset interval to death section, I said minutes. When talking to my mother (me and my parents talk all the time, my dad sits in my room and plays games while we talk about Anaia or something random, and me and my mother will talk about random things as well as Anaia too.), she told me her perspective of that morning. Long story short, around 11:45AM, I woke up to my mother screaming my sister's name and she soon realized she was unresponsive, me and my father woke up soon after and I called 911, and that's the short version. I assumed my sister was in her covers sleeping and fentanyl overrid her system, but no, my mom told me that when she walked into Anaia's room, she was laid flat out on top of all of her covers, arms outstretched to the side. Learning that was a major shock to me, and I'll explain why.
Sure, Anaia's death was nearly instant. But hearing the details of what my mom said really drove him that once it happened, it didn't matter whether we went into there at the right time or later, there was likely nothing that could've been done. From my understanding, it was almost as if she was up one second and collapsed the next. There was dried vomit on clothes next to her bed, making me assume that after vomiting, she just collapsed instantly after and died. After calling 911, my mother demanded out of fear for me to help her perform CPR, and I didn't hesitate to do so. But, anyone in that situation could tell, with no details given, that there was nothing that could've been done. The typical signs of a deceased body were very present, and even I (doing the mouth resuscitation) knew that if I felt no air coming back onto me, and touching her neck didn't give a pulse, I quickly understood that this was it, like there was nothing me or my parents could've done. When the paramedics arrived at 12 exactly, it took them a minute or two for them to tell us that there was nothing to be done, and ultimately, Anaia had died long, long before we got to her. They said roughly 6-8 hours, meaning at the earliest 3am, and at the latest 5am. It's a disheartening fact for him, and even my father expressed to me too a few nights ago, but we wished that at least there was a chance for us to get to her beforehand. Maybe if he and I or my mom went into her room for no real reason in the middle of the night, we would've been able to save her. What really struck me when my dad was telling me that was him acknowledging that while he and my mom were watching TV, he couldn't bare to imagine that simultaneously Anaia was dying. I felt the same way, I was awake around 3-3:30AM, and if she died during that time, I was totally unaware scrolling through my phone.
I wish that there was something to be done. During her time alive, and when she started doing street dealt percocets, I warned her about fentanyl, and ultimately I wish she had heeded my warning and stayed off them when she did quit in December. I'm a sociable person, and I'm one of those people that have a wide different variety of groups and friends I hang out with, and I may not be in extracurricular activities but even those that are popular in my school know me. As a result of being so sociable, I know people that do drugs, and only a set few who do percocets, one of my closest friends used to be a heavy percocet user and I used to tell her as much as I did my sister to quit. My friend and my sister quit, but one returned and one didn't. One is still here, and one is not. It doesn't matter how many people I told not to do percocets, of course I would've wanted my sister to be the one to really listen to me. But ultimately, the person I wanted to save the most didn't make it. I've saved others, but with my sister, it almost made my words feel like nothing after she died. No matter however many times I told her to please find something less dangerous and more beneficial, to not risk her life, she kept using and lost her life. Said friend and two other friends of my sister (I know both of them) were also at some point active percocet users, and they told me that they felt it like it should've been them, seeing my mother made them see that that could've been their parents, their siblings, their friends and relatives, etc. I told them bluntly that it in fact could've been them in Anaia's position, I told them that just because Anaia's clock stopping running doesn't mean there's has to, they can avoid being in her position. Then it got me thinking, there's plenty of other people who overdose on purpose, who overdose 9 times, who overdose and suffer long term effects like paralyzation, but still remain. Anaia overdosed once, and that was the final time. I believe in God and Jesus but I'm not a preacher, I believe and keep it pushing but I'm not religiously based. I believe in the concept of everyone having a time and a date, but sometimes I find myself questioning that if that's the case, are we just here to live a predetermined fate that we have no control over? At the end of the day, was I meant to go through this? Thinking like that plagues my mind, but I settle for it being her time to go, as seeing other drug users made me wonder what they may be here to prove on earth that Anaia could not. I don't like questioning others' lives and why they get to live longer, that's not me, and I'm glad they've been granted more chances, it just sucks my sister wasn't granted that chance in the grand scheme of things. Predetermined or not, there was so much she could've lived for, but I believe there's a reason time can't be reversed, and there's many unexplained miracles that somehow eases me into thinking that I shouldn't throw myself into a hole of questioning why she didn't get a chance, and just accepting that her race ended earlier than mine. I believe things happen for a reason, it's an insensitive statement depending on the situation, but things happen for people to learn and grow from them, but no one really knows why. I've just had to come to the conclusion hat my sister is okay, she's safe, and I have no reason to continue to question her life and worry about her if she's not here with me anymore, you feel?
From a brother perspective, it sucks. It feels somewhat lonely, to live and breathe as an only child. I've become accustomed to being an older brother to a younger sister, but I turned 16 without her, and that's how it'll be for the rest of my life. At her visitation on March 30th, I didn't cry, but seeing her body just made me shake my head. She looked very nice, the funeral home did an amazing job, but it hit me that this was really her. There were distinct things I saw that she had in life that made me come to that conclusion that that was what was left my little sister, and at the funeral + burial the next day, watching her being lowered into the ground left my head empty. No thoughts, she watching as her casket covered in a white sheet was lowered into the ground, and that'd be it. I grew up with this person, and now I have to look down on this person and go through life without this amazing person. I never imagine something like this happening, especially not like this. I always wanted to die first because I was older, a thought I feared ever since I was a child. That didn't get to happen, and milestones man. She'll never get to graduate the year after me, never get to have that lovely relationship with that special one that she always wanted, she never got to be an aunt, a mom, nothing. One day, I hope to have children and I will tell them about Anaia, but do I wish they'd have been able to meet her if that time came. Everyday, I walk past her room, sometimes I go in there and sometimes I don't. Two weeks after her death, her mattress was taken out by me and my dad's friend, up until a few weeks ago, her room was left scattered the way it was when she died minus the mattress, and now, everything has been cleaned up. It's empty, and the emptiness is another reality check. I'll never see Anaia again, and in the potential next life I believe I will, but the fact I can't now is a hard concept to grasp. No more walking to the bus stop, no more barging into her room or vice versa, no more waiting forever for her to complete her makeup, no more random room hangouts, no more of her asking me to flash a light for her Instagram pictures for an excruciating ten minutes, none of them. Her physical presence is gone, I come home everyday and instantly the thought of her being gone hits me. Riding in the car with my parents, being at school, going out, it doesn't feel the same knowing in the back of my head she's gone, no matter how much fun I have. Regardless, I've returned to normal life, matter of fact, I started going to school every day instantly after the funeral, and during the two weeks of March 17th-March 31st, I showed up to school here and there. It didn't take a toll to do so, because I've accepted that though Anaia died, I'm still alive? I don't stop when she does, that'll have more of an effect. Life still goes on, time doesn't stop for no one no matter how much I may want it to. I honestly sit my current happiness at like a 6.5-7, higher than one may expect. I still have my parents, my friends, and all of my relatives, an important chunk is just missing but I still have my people. I only feel alone in the sibling aspect, but in reality, people make me happy everyday and still continue to. I joke how I've always joked, people have said I look much better than how I did initially, there's notable sadness on my face, but I look happier. If that's true, then I hope it stays that way. I still go out to these afterschool events, outside friend hangous, they bring joy. I just miss my sister 25/8, but I've learned to appreciate life just a little bit more now. If she's okay, I'm okay.
Lastly, I wanted to mention dreams. People say they have dreams of deceased loved ones all the time, I personally haven't yet, would like to, but until then that hasn't been the case. I'm not talking dreams with the person in them, I mean direct communication dreams. My mother has had two, my dad's friend has had one, and my close friend mentioned earlier has had one, but the one that sticks out the most is my little cousin's dream. My mom has a younger sister herself and in 2018, she had her first child, his nickname is JP. During 2021-2022, me and Anaia lived with my grandmother due to losing our apartment (our parents stayed separately at a grouphome my dad worked at, they work for my grandmother's company), and my aunt as well as JP stayed with my grandma. JP essentially became me and Anaia's little brother that we didn't have, and vice versa for him, he sees me and Anaia has his older siblings. Seeing him seem so heartbroken after Anaia died was very sad, as you can see written on this five-year-old's face that Anaia was someone who truly mattered to him and he was so sad about it. However, in his dream, Anaia came to him and told him she loved all of us, that she regretted not seeing him grow older, and that what happened to her was an accident. The part that got me was that Anaia told him that where she was was beautiful, he asked to see it, and she told him he couldn't see it yet. Kids just don't make things like that up in my opinion, and he worded it very detailed for a kindergartener, and JP is at the age where his words don't conflict with other things he's said, he's consistent with it and he tells me the same thing he told me the first time when I ask him here and then. He can see it one day, but he can't see it, not yet. What that tells me is that if life is so hard, death must be so beautiful afterwards, and that there is an afterlife. Even if I believed in a separate religion, or if my current religion isn't the truth, I will always believe in an afterlife. I refuse to believe that this world is it, and kids just don't pull stuff out their butt in a serious situation. I believe him. If that's the case, then I'll gladly wait. It doesn't matter how many people die during my lifetime, whatever remains of it, and how many new people I might meet in my life. If my hope of living to elder age and I meet someone and create a family, and even if said wife and or children die before me if that plan does happen, there's only one person I wish to greet me. I hear that people see a loved one before they die, and I hope Anaia is the one that comes to see me when it's all over. Forever, no matter who else passes before me, Anaia's will stay the worst, the most impactful, and that's a strong statement to make but I'm sure of that. I have plenty of goals I have for myself, but my end goal once the others are done is to get past 70, pass peacefully, and have my sister wait for me there. I hope that wouldn't be much to ask for.
That's it.

My cousin is getting married in July and having a beach destination wedding.
My aunt (cousins mom) is paying for the wedding.
Yesterday at a family gathering for Mother’s Day, my aunt says to me “no funny business at the wedding”
Confused, I asked her to elaborate. She said “none of that gay stuff. No makeup, no nail polish, no fruity outfits, no girly hairstyles… and for god sake grow some hair on your legs. You’re a man and you WILL act like one”
For reference, I’m gender fluid and gender non conforming. I have long (mid back) hair and a short well kept beard. I shave my body hair (except the beard). I don’t wear makeup everyday but I usually have my nails done and my clothing is a mix of both “masculine” and “feminine” attire.
I’m happy with myself and the way I present myself and have been for many years. This is nothing new, and I’ve never been given grief over it before by any family or friends, including her.
And, for what it’s worth, the outfit I have picked out for the wedding (which she already saw) is a tux for the ceremony and male dressy beach clothes for the after party.
Offended, I, “first off, this is not YOUR wedding, second, if this is such a big deal, why was I even invited??”
She said “I just don’t want to be embarrassed and have the photos ruined”
To which I said, “well I won’t ruin anything because I’m not going”
She got mad and said I had to because the seating and catering is already set and if I don’t go it will mess it up.
I’ve already cancelled my flight and explained in private to my cousin why I don’t want to attend anymore and she was very understanding.
TL;DR: AITA for backing out of my cousins wedding after being told that being my authentic self would too embarrassing for her mom to handle??

I pondered for a while about writing this. I have absolutely nobody I can share it with, so I come to strangers.
June (38F) and I (39F) are cousins and best friends. We grew up together and we were the sister that neither of us had. We have loved each other, been there for each other through thick and thin, and have had the best of times together. But, like every close bond, ours has had challenges, and right now things are pretty awful.
Some backstory: June got married very young, and for personal reasons she and her husband decided to adopt. Their child is now grown and independent, and she has her freedom and time to rediscover herself and her interests. I, on the other hand, am a mom of a toddler and my life is pretty messy at this point. I did feel our relationship get a little strained since I became a mom. I believe it was because she kind of lost me for a bit, I became less available and wasn't able to talk a lot. I decided not to do anything about it at that time since I felt that my sensitivity (I did have a mild form of PPD, I later discovered) might be distorting my perception of things. But it felt like she avoided me when she indeed had the opportunity to see me, choosing to do other more fun things instead. Or she would make plans to see me and the baby but the venues and times were usually not appropriate for me and I would have to decline. I wasn't feeling good about any of this but I would rationalize - nobody needs to accommodate me and my specific situation, because they didn't choose to have a baby, I did.
Anyway, June and her husband drifted apart through the years. They do love and respect each other, they have a child and a business together, an overall good life, but the spark had gone. So it happened that June fell in love with someone else, and it turned out to be mutual. And they had an affair that lasted a while. I don't judge her about it, it's her thing, and her husband has probably done it too, this post isn't about that. The affair got toxic and she did try to break it off. It was on and off for a while and then something awful happened. Her lover (also married, a known member of our community) was involved in a horrific car accident. He first went into a coma and then passed away. For all I know, I was the only person that knew about the affair.
She was out of state when it happened. We weren't in a position to talk about this a lot. She was with her husband, and I was rarely alone. Most of the times we would text about it, I'd ask her if she wanted to talk about it, and she'd say no. Sometimes because she wasn't alone, and other times she said she didn't want to talk about it. And I chose not to pressure her, because how people react to grief is very specific and very different. I tried to tell her I am there for her whenever she wants to talk about it. Bear in mind that I live with a toddler and a husband who works from home, so I am rarely alone. I'd call her when I'd go grocery shopping, or tell her I'm going out and will be out for a while, giving her an opportunity to talk if she wants to. She very rarely did. And I know this because I went through our chat history, in order to check myself and how good of a friend I am.
The day of the funeral, I told her I'm there if she needs me. She lashed out at me, saying I am actually not there for her. I said I'm sorry that I can't be there, explained that it is difficult to be there in the way she'd need me since I also have to hide how much she needs me from everybody. And I also have a small child. It hurt me but I let it go. She was grieving and angry and had nobody to talk to. Things seemingly got better in the meantime. We had more opportunities to talk about how she is feeling. We also had daily communication like sharing funny memes and things that make us laugh. Not many opportunities to see each other. I work on different projects that take up a lot of my time. She is also very busy with her business and traveling, so there simply weren't many situations. And honestly, I stopped initiating meetings with her one on one since, as I said before, she would either have something else already planned, or would be away on a business trip, and I started feeling like me asking would always end with a refusal on her side.
We met recently at an event that we both enjoyed and had a great time, or so I thought. I texted her a couple of days later wanting to talk to her but I got a response that really hurt me, but also made me think if I am in the wrong. Not to go into detail, but she accused me of not being there for her grieving process. She said that having a child was not an excuse. She also implied that I was never fully there to help her get out of her toxic affair - I'd disagree but whatever. And in the end she added a couple of situations where I didn't react properly which to me were totally random. I decided not to get in a texting argument - again, I reminded her that to be fully there I also had to lie and make up situations. She said that I should have, and concluded her text with telling me that she doesn't want to talk to me. I told her we can talk when she feels like it, to which she replied that she will probably never want to talk to me again about serious matters. That we can keep our communication superficial like it lately is (which I would also say is a difference in perception) but that she is aware of it and that she is far from OK with it.
Since that last text I am in a grieving process of my own. I feel for her, I know her aggression is a substitute for sadness. I know it is unfair when we lose someone, and we need to have someone "to blame". But I also feel like I might have been treated unfairly. If she feels like she has lost me now, I feel like I have lost her a few years ago - when I had my issues with a small baby and undiagnosed PPD, and husband and in laws that I couldn't stand at the time. And I also feel stupid for never sharing that before with her. And I think sharing it now would just completely destroy our relationship, if there is a relationship still.
So, AITAH? And WIBTA if I told her how I feel?

Humans are Weird – Storm Watching

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-storm-watching
“Why did we even bother building a base on the land anyway?” Rollsaround asked as he absorbed the dim light filtering through the wide windows of the base.
The windows gave an impressive view of what the humans in their generosity called a “coastline”. Instead of gently undulating coral beds easing down into the water the glittering volcanic rock dropped abruptly from the graminoid covered highlands and dove down dozens of meters to where it usually met the heaving surface of the water below. Today however the water had seemingly decided to express its objections to the separation and was attempting to scale the cliffs in massive waves. The base vibrated from the force of a gust of wind and Rollsaround hunkered deeper into his mineral bath.
“Do you require another introduction of thermal-loaded water?” Tenth Cousin asked from where she perched on a Shatar couch, reading something that was supposed to be very masculine poetry from her homeworld.
“I do not,” Rollsaround reassured her. “I was just reacting negatively to the storm.”
She tilted her head to examine the weather conditions with a thoughtful set to her antenna.
“I think it is a pleasant change,” she said. “The harsh, unfiltered lights of the suns here means that we have no real night. The clouds at lest allow the illusions of dusk, and the wind overhead is not entirely unlike breezes in Father’s canopy if you can focus your attention on some pleasant task.”
“Well if we can’t go outside during clear weather without protection due to the radiation,” Rollsaround grumbled, “and we can’t go outside in stormy weather due to the, well, the storm, I say we should have just built a floating base that we could submerge during storm weather.”
“There is perhaps logic in that,” Tenth cousin agreed, and very deliberately tilted her head back to the poetry.
Rollsaround drooped his leading appendages over the edge of the bowl and absorbed the storm light in a slightly sulky mood. The airlock cycled open and Third Sister stepped in with the brisk stride that Rollsaround had noticed that high ranking sisters only used when they were looking for someone who had committed some infraction. Tenth Cousin brought the poem up closer to her face and started moving her mandibles as if she was completely focused on sounding out the words. Third Sister tilted her head the examine the cousin and then abruptly swiveled her body to focus on Rollsaround.
“First Ecologist,” she began, “do you know First Mechanic’s current location? The exterior vents in my lab require percussive maintenance.”
“He is off shift by now,” Rollsaround said. “You should check the washrooms and his quarters.”
However even as he offered this sound advice Rollsaround felt a ripple of unease. Human Friend Conner almost never went to his quarters after his shift. He was highly social, even by human standards and usually came to the main room to chat first thing.
“I have already checked both of those locations,” Third Sister stated. “He is not there and he is not answering his comm.”
Rollsaround mulled over that. Clearly Third Sister needed to find the human. An improperly vented laboratory in such a base as theirs was a serious health risk.
“Have you checked the storage areas?” he asked.
“I did a ping for his comm,” she replied, “but it is not reading as in the base at all so I could not locate the room he was in. I was surprised as I didn’t think we had any shielding strong enough to block the comm signal in the base-”
She cut off as Rollsaround suddenly surged up out of his mineral bath and crawled out of it.
“What is the matter First Ecologist?” Third Sister asked in confusion.
“He has gone out for a walk,” Rollsaround said, forgetting in his rush to add emotional undertones to his words.
“Out?” Third Sister demanded, her antenna going lax with confusion.
“Out to watch the storm from withing the wind currents,” Rollsaround explained.
“How do you gather that?” Third Sister demanded.
“He has described storm watching on his homeworld to me,” Rollsaround explained as he opened the hatch to the sub floor currents. “He also mentioned what he thought the perfect storm watching spot would be on these cliffs. That spot is behind enough rocks to block the signal. Now if you will excuse me I am going to go fetch him.”
“He has broken regulations!” Third Sister clicked, her frill flashing red with alarm.
“That on a secondary vine,” Tenth Cousin interjected as she came up to them. “The same regulations apply to you First Ecologist! The wind-”
“I am rated as fully wind resistant under these conditions,” Rollsaround said with a dismissive wave, “one of the perks of not being built like a windmill.”
“Your thermal mass-” Tenth Cousin tried again.
“I am fully warmed at the moment and I will turn back if my core temperature drops too low,” he interjected again. “Now if there are no further objections?”
Without waiting for their objections he dropped down into the sub-floor current and tapped the control panel to direct the current to the main outlet. He bundled his appendages and let himself be swept into the cold, but fresh exterior water. He bumped up against the smooth rise of the outlet and edged up out of the water. The wind was powerful. He could feel it tug at him if he raised a gripping appendage high, but at least over the main path there were eddies along the ground that were so comparatively we that he couldn’t even feel them. He began shuffling at top speed along the path. A the crest of the first high spot the winds did hit him, shoving his body sideways. However, as he had expected it required barely a fraction of his strength to grip the path firmly with his set appendages as he moved the free appendages forward. It barely even slowed him down, the roar of it was rather disconcerting when it wasn’t muted by the base walls however. He did wonder how the human had made it this far. After a long steady shuffle he rounded the corner that was blocking the signal and spotted a tall figure down at the cliff’s edge that wasn’t normally there.
Rollsaround activated the comm he was holding pressed against the ground. There was a significant delay before the human responded.
“Human Friend Conner,” Rollsaround said, trying to put firmness in his tones. “Come now and carry me back to the base. I am at the crest of the hill looking down at you.”
There was an odd sound from the comm that suggested the human was trying to say something back, but human speaking organs were not optimized for shielding the microphone of a comm while speaking so the human simply gave two short radio bursts and the tall figure on the cliff’s edge began swaying back and forth as it moved towards the path. Rollsaround anchored himself more fully against the blasts and watched in grim interest as the gusts blew the tall human form to one side and then the other as the human struggled up the path.
When Human Friend Conner finally did reach him the human didn’t bother speaking. He just reached down with a grin and tried to lift the Undulate off of the path. For one long moment Rollsaround hung on to the ground in a show of strength. He wasn’t sure if it would impress the human but a little dominance display did seem called for. He let go when the look of perplexity fully formed on the humans face but before he could give a more powerful tug and they headed back to the base.
Being carried over a meter above the ground in this wind was another experience altogether. The swaying of the human in the wind felt far wilder than it had looked, and Rollsaround found himself clutching tightly to the human’s coat as the wind tried to rip him away. They finally made the base airlock and stepped through to the blessedly still air. Rollsaround dropped to the floor and shook the cold water off of himself.
“I think Third Sister would like a word with you,” he said.
Granted she would probably want a word with him too, but Human Friend Conner didn’t need to know that.

Science Fiction Books By Betty Adams

Amazon (Kindle, Paperback, Audiobook)

Barnes & Nobel (Nook, Paperback, Audiobook)

Powell's Books (Paperback)

Kobo by Rakuten (ebook and Audiobook)

Google Play Books (ebook and Audiobook)

Check out my books at any of these sites and leave a review! "Flying Sparks" - a novel set in the "Dying Embers" universe is now avaliable on all sites!
Please go leave a review on Amazon! It really helps and keeps me writing becase tea and taxes don't pay themselves sadly!

https://preview.redd.it/292890cl190d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=80452218955753005afd72dfd6f5c56b3cf0c658

Humans are Weird – Storm Watching

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-storm-watching
“Why did we even bother building a base on the land anyway?” Rollsaround asked as he absorbed the dim light filtering through the wide windows of the base.
The windows gave an impressive view of what the humans in their generosity called a “coastline”. Instead of gently undulating coral beds easing down into the water the glittering volcanic rock dropped abruptly from the graminoid covered highlands and dove down dozens of meters to where it usually met the heaving surface of the water below. Today however the water had seemingly decided to express its objections to the separation and was attempting to scale the cliffs in massive waves. The base vibrated from the force of a gust of wind and Rollsaround hunkered deeper into his mineral bath.
“Do you require another introduction of thermal-loaded water?” Tenth Cousin asked from where she perched on a Shatar couch, reading something that was supposed to be very masculine poetry from her homeworld.
“I do not,” Rollsaround reassured her. “I was just reacting negatively to the storm.”
She tilted her head to examine the weather conditions with a thoughtful set to her antenna.
“I think it is a pleasant change,” she said. “The harsh, unfiltered lights of the suns here means that we have no real night. The clouds at lest allow the illusions of dusk, and the wind overhead is not entirely unlike breezes in Father’s canopy if you can focus your attention on some pleasant task.”
“Well if we can’t go outside during clear weather without protection due to the radiation,” Rollsaround grumbled, “and we can’t go outside in stormy weather due to the, well, the storm, I say we should have just built a floating base that we could submerge during storm weather.”
“There is perhaps logic in that,” Tenth cousin agreed, and very deliberately tilted her head back to the poetry.
Rollsaround drooped his leading appendages over the edge of the bowl and absorbed the storm light in a slightly sulky mood. The airlock cycled open and Third Sister stepped in with the brisk stride that Rollsaround had noticed that high ranking sisters only used when they were looking for someone who had committed some infraction. Tenth Cousin brought the poem up closer to her face and started moving her mandibles as if she was completely focused on sounding out the words. Third Sister tilted her head the examine the cousin and then abruptly swiveled her body to focus on Rollsaround.
“First Ecologist,” she began, “do you know First Mechanic’s current location? The exterior vents in my lab require percussive maintenance.”
“He is off shift by now,” Rollsaround said. “You should check the washrooms and his quarters.”
However even as he offered this sound advice Rollsaround felt a ripple of unease. Human Friend Conner almost never went to his quarters after his shift. He was highly social, even by human standards and usually came to the main room to chat first thing.
“I have already checked both of those locations,” Third Sister stated. “He is not there and he is not answering his comm.”
Rollsaround mulled over that. Clearly Third Sister needed to find the human. An improperly vented laboratory in such a base as theirs was a serious health risk.
“Have you checked the storage areas?” he asked.
“I did a ping for his comm,” she replied, “but it is not reading as in the base at all so I could not locate the room he was in. I was surprised as I didn’t think we had any shielding strong enough to block the comm signal in the base-”
She cut off as Rollsaround suddenly surged up out of his mineral bath and crawled out of it.
“What is the matter First Ecologist?” Third Sister asked in confusion.
“He has gone out for a walk,” Rollsaround said, forgetting in his rush to add emotional undertones to his words.
“Out?” Third Sister demanded, her antenna going lax with confusion.
“Out to watch the storm from withing the wind currents,” Rollsaround explained.
“How do you gather that?” Third Sister demanded.
“He has described storm watching on his homeworld to me,” Rollsaround explained as he opened the hatch to the sub floor currents. “He also mentioned what he thought the perfect storm watching spot would be on these cliffs. That spot is behind enough rocks to block the signal. Now if you will excuse me I am going to go fetch him.”
“He has broken regulations!” Third Sister clicked, her frill flashing red with alarm.
“That on a secondary vine,” Tenth Cousin interjected as she came up to them. “The same regulations apply to you First Ecologist! The wind-”
“I am rated as fully wind resistant under these conditions,” Rollsaround said with a dismissive wave, “one of the perks of not being built like a windmill.”
“Your thermal mass-” Tenth Cousin tried again.
“I am fully warmed at the moment and I will turn back if my core temperature drops too low,” he interjected again. “Now if there are no further objections?”
Without waiting for their objections he dropped down into the sub-floor current and tapped the control panel to direct the current to the main outlet. He bundled his appendages and let himself be swept into the cold, but fresh exterior water. He bumped up against the smooth rise of the outlet and edged up out of the water. The wind was powerful. He could feel it tug at him if he raised a gripping appendage high, but at least over the main path there were eddies along the ground that were so comparatively we that he couldn’t even feel them. He began shuffling at top speed along the path. A the crest of the first high spot the winds did hit him, shoving his body sideways. However, as he had expected it required barely a fraction of his strength to grip the path firmly with his set appendages as he moved the free appendages forward. It barely even slowed him down, the roar of it was rather disconcerting when it wasn’t muted by the base walls however. He did wonder how the human had made it this far. After a long steady shuffle he rounded the corner that was blocking the signal and spotted a tall figure down at the cliff’s edge that wasn’t normally there.
Rollsaround activated the comm he was holding pressed against the ground. There was a significant delay before the human responded.
“Human Friend Conner,” Rollsaround said, trying to put firmness in his tones. “Come now and carry me back to the base. I am at the crest of the hill looking down at you.”
There was an odd sound from the comm that suggested the human was trying to say something back, but human speaking organs were not optimized for shielding the microphone of a comm while speaking so the human simply gave two short radio bursts and the tall figure on the cliff’s edge began swaying back and forth as it moved towards the path. Rollsaround anchored himself more fully against the blasts and watched in grim interest as the gusts blew the tall human form to one side and then the other as the human struggled up the path.
When Human Friend Conner finally did reach him the human didn’t bother speaking. He just reached down with a grin and tried to lift the Undulate off of the path. For one long moment Rollsaround hung on to the ground in a show of strength. He wasn’t sure if it would impress the human but a little dominance display did seem called for. He let go when the look of perplexity fully formed on the humans face but before he could give a more powerful tug and they headed back to the base.
Being carried over a meter above the ground in this wind was another experience altogether. The swaying of the human in the wind felt far wilder than it had looked, and Rollsaround found himself clutching tightly to the human’s coat as the wind tried to rip him away. They finally made the base airlock and stepped through to the blessedly still air. Rollsaround dropped to the floor and shook the cold water off of himself.
“I think Third Sister would like a word with you,” he said.
Granted she would probably want a word with him too, but Human Friend Conner didn’t need to know that.
https://i.redd.it/gdoknun0390d1.gif

Science Fiction Books By Betty Adams

Amazon (Kindle, Paperback, Audiobook)

Barnes & Nobel (Nook, Paperback, Audiobook)

Powell's Books (Paperback)

Kobo by Rakuten (ebook and Audiobook)

Google Play Books (ebook and Audiobook)

Check out my books at any of these sites and leave a review! "Flying Sparks" - a novel set in the "Dying Embers" universe is now avaliable on all sites!
Please go leave a review on Amazon! It really helps and keeps me writing becase tea and taxes don't pay themselves sadly!

Reddit Account: kgdaguy
Discord Tag:justkaegjuice
Name and House: Aelor Belaerys
Age: 25
Cultural Group: Valyrian
Appearance: Silver hair kept short but wild in appearance, purple eyes and of average height. Prefers to wear an amethyst in his right ear ensnared by a white serpent, similar to that of his house banners and rarely ever without perfumed attire.
Trait:Agile
Skill(s):Dragonrider, Nimble, Skulker, Prepared, Infiltrator
Talent(s): Fishing, Painting, Likes to sing but not the best at it.
Negative Trait(s):
Starting Title(s):Heir to Aegon’s Rest, The Father’s Flame, Dragonlord
Starting Location: Opening Party
Alternate Characters: N.A

Bio

Aelor Belaerys was born on Dragonstone to Baelor and Baela Belaerys. His father was occupied marching with the Targaryens leaving his mother to birth the child with the aid of Dragonstone servants. He would be the eldest of their two children with his sister Aelora being born a few years after and from a young age, Aelor was expected to follow in the footsteps of many Belaerys before him.
He was set to be a warrior, a man sworn to serve the Targaryens with nothing but a farm to his name. A faded legacy clung onto his name but even young, his mother would often tell him that she’d prayed to Arrax, the father of all Valyrian people, that her child, her jewel, would one day find great power and restore their house to its former glory.
For seven years he’d live on Dragonstone and for a short period in Aegonsfort before the King was killed, by Tullys they’d claimed. Aelor was too young to understand what had happened but he remembers his family moving to the Riverlands where they ‘had a new home’ given to them by Visenya Targaryen, the Warrior Queen.
Life seems perfect for Aelor who has taken to the role of heir quickly. Where he was once destined to learn how to wield a blade, instead Aelor found himself a fan of the finer arts, things like painting, singing and singing had filled his time. That bothered his father who believed that his heir needed to be a strong knight in hopes of filling his boots upon his death.
That displeasure grew into rage when the Maesters told Baelor that Aelor would often ignore lessons, when their Master-at-Arms told him that Aelor skipped training sessions and worse when Aelor instead skipped lessons and training all together to paint a ruined tower of Aegon’s Rest.
But before Baelor could lash out, his beloved Baela would die unexpectedly, the cause unknown but natural according to the Maesters. This alone would give Aelor a few years of reprieve from punishment as Baelor pulled his claws away from all his children and focused on his lordship.
They’d return when Aelor was fourteen however when the boy had begun to spend too much time with the Rivermen smallfolk in one village or another. By this point the Maesters had grown tired of Aelor, he was rebellious, quick to let his temper run wild and worse, dyslexic which made learning a battle in itself.
For all the perceived problems that Aelor had caused his father, Baelor decided the only way to correct the boy was lock him away in the castle and ensure he was taken to all his lessons by a flock of servants, but unlike the ones from the Riverlands, Baelor ensured only men and women from Dragonstone and Driftmark surrounded the boy.
In 16 AC, after four years of trying to correct Aelor’s foolishness, Baelor finally had enough after Aelor’s constant escapes, ploys and just in general sheer dimwittedness he decided it was time to replace him as heir and worked on getting remarried, asking the Queen Rhaenys to aid him in finding a wife amongst the Westermen.
And so Baelor brought Aelor into his solar, where he’d tell his son plainly that he’d found a match in Jeyne Westerling. Expecting the boy to lash out, he’d run around the fact but eventually he’d say it plainly. Aelor would no longer be his heir when their son was born, he would lose his inheritance for he was a dimwit, a shame upon their house and a disappointment to his father.
Aelor would never forget those words.
He’d gathered plate armor, a sword and some gold, much to his siblings, cousins and uncles dismay and ran off to King’s Landing. Few knew his surname when he’d arrived and that resulted in the young boy joining the first group of hedge knights he’d come across.
For six months he’d leap from one to another until he’d settled down with a group of older knights led by Ser Jon Costayne. A reachmen who’d jumped ship when Aegon first landed made for a perfect mentor to the young Belaerys, he was everything he’d wanted his father to be and Jon was in need of a squire so he’d take him in.
Life was sad and dark for him during the two years he’d spend as a hedge knight traveling the Crownlands and the Vale. At some point he’d even made it to White Harbor before sailing back go King’s Landing.
During his time with the band, the Costayne would often jokingly call him a Dragonlord, in part harmless joking but some bit of it often followed him telling the boy to make for Dragonstone to tame one of the beasts that lived there.
Jon would often say that Aelor and Aegon were only a few letters apart, why couldn’t the Belaerys take the Black Dread? When he’d tell him that the Queens would take his head, Jon would claim the Big Bitch could take both the Queens and then some.
Eventually those jokes however turned serious and Jon convinced him that the only way he’d get out of his slump, that he’d keep his inheritance was to take a dragon from the island Aelor once called him. Had it not been for news reaching him that his younger brother had been born, Aelor might have shrugged it off and kept to his lonesome life.
But the birth of Aegon Belaerys to Baelor Belaerys and Jeyne Westerling lit a fire under him. One fierce enough to cause him to make his way to Dragonstone, up the Dragonmont and into the lair of the a dragon he’d heard much of from his upbringing.
Veraxes
His mother used to tell him that there were two dragons that all the naughty boys and girls should avoid for fear that they would sense their bad tendencies and eat them whole. The first was Cannibal, a foul creature that ate it’s own kind and spared no little boy either. The second…now that one was one that used to scare him most as a boy.
But he was no longer a boy. He had sought her out. Brought with him meats from his family's old farm now run by the seeds of House Targaryen.
She was said to be ugly, that her belly was filled with cattle, children, and just about anything that bled. That she would eat until she was incapable of moving. The Golden Menace they’d call her for her tendency to burn those who came too close or simply bothered her while she ate elsewhere on the island.
He would see her as anything but a menace that day. Now her weight he couldn’t change but her demeanor was unlike what they’d all claimed it to be. The She-Dragon turned her gaze from the bones of cattle she was picking away at. Even in the dark lair he could see those bright golden eyes watching his every move.
She rushed forth, the ground shook with each step the rotund dragon took until she was practically atop Aelor and then she let out a snarl. He’d later learn that this was simply her way of telling him that he would not get her food, she’d taken it herself and not a soul could take it away from her.
Instead of growing fearful, Aelor held out the cows head for her. Veraxes thought he meant that he’d his own food which meant none of hers was going to be eaten. But then he’d throw it towards her. The first of many offerings he’d make to the dragon.
Over the entire night and next morning he’d slowly inch towards her, pushing her boundaries, each time feeding her as he got closer until he’d eventually be able to mount her the next day.
When she took off for the first time over Dragonstone he’d felt truly alive. He was the first Belaerys Dragonlord since the Doom and he felt great ecstasy for a few hours until he’d realized what this meant to the world at large.
Knowing that if he’d returned to King’s Landing Orys might just decide to kill him the moment he was away from her, Aelor flew home to Aegon’s Rest. There he’d find thousands of men camped outside his home, all prepared to wage a war he’d not heard of.
His uncle Baelon would be the first to see him atop the beast as he’d landed in a field. Aelor would tell him what happened and Baelon would tell the boy that he’d felt great pride in him but war had come and they needed that dragon more than they ever had.
His uncle would tell him that his father Baelor had sided with the Blackwoods in a dispute between them and the Brackens. The conflict had grown larger than just a petty squabble and houses from as far as the North had begun to march for one side or another.
It’d be then that he’d see his father at the gates of Aegon’s Rest, rushing towards him and it would be then that he’d make up his mind and climb back atop Veraxes. He’d wondered if this was what the first Dragonriders had felt like when they’d rode without a saddle.
As the Golden Menace took off and tents flew in all directions, he’d set his sights to the Northeast where he’d followed the River until he’d found a clash between the Brackens and Blackwoods. He’d imagined one side or the other and thought he’d come to help but the Veraxes had come for neither side, not here for either.
In the end, both forces would be given a simple demand. Return to your homes, embrace peace, or stick to your paths and enter the afterlife hand in hand.
All but a few chose to burn.
This would mark the day that the Aelor the world now knows was born. He’d taken inspiration from what he’d thought Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys had said to those they’d conquered and it had worked. It meant he was like them, a true Dragon in the flesh.
He’d return home after ending that war and write to the Targaryens and the Baratheon letting them know that he’d ended the conflict in the name of the Crown. A hope that it would be enough to placate them enough to ensure they did not hunt him down and it had worked.
His father Baelor seemed to have shifted his tone now that Aelor rode Veraxes, where he’d once called him a disappointment to their bloodline and their people, he’d now call him the saving grace of the House Belaerys.
Aelor did not take a liking to that change but he could not bring himself to say anything, negative nor positive about his father instead he’d simply asked to meet his younger brother Aegon. The boy was like him, silver haired and lilac eyes.
He’d wanted to hate him. To demand that his father send Jeyne off to the Silent Sisters and that the boy be given away to the Faith or the Maesters to do as they wished but he couldn’t bring himself to do that either.
Instead he’d told his father that Aegon’s Rest would be his when he’d died and just as quickly as he’d returned he’d left again. Travel called to him and he’d wanted to show Jon Costayne Veraxes.
He’d spend a few years embarking on his travels, though he’d long leave Jon behind after offering him a position in Aegon’s Rest. His travels would take him to much of the Westerlands, the Reach, the Vale and the Stepstones where he’d met the Queen Rhaenys for the first time. There he’d live for a short period where he’d partake in their parties, meet a girl called Zhoe Whitemane.
Funny thing she was. A Valyrian with the touch of the North. Quickly he’d befriend her and eventually before he’d departed back home, he’d find himself as being more than just the average friend, the type that held hands scandalously.
His return to the Riverlands marked an interesting period. Aelor flies to all it’s corners, no regard for which Lord Paramount claims what domain. The skies of the land that holds Rivers are his and all who sit below them are under his protection, often he’d say he does so in the name of the King but what King?
Only time can tell.

Timeline

1 AC - Born to Baelor and Baela Belaerys.
7 AC - Moved to Aegon’s Rest after King Aegon’s death.
12 AC - Mother dies.
14 AC - Vibes with the Smallfolk around Aegon’s Rest a bit too much for his father’s liking, gets told he cannot leave the keep without his permission.
16 AC - Father decides he’s a shit heir and wants a new one so he weds Jeyne Westerling causing Aelor to run off to King’s Landing.
18 AC - Aelor under pressure from Jon Costayne decides to snatch up Veraxes on Dragonstone the year his younger brother and replacement Aegon is born, securing himself as heir.
19 AC - Begins to travel Westeros, goes to Summerhall and finds out that parties are kind of cool. Meets Zhoe Whitemane and becomes her bff4life.
21 AC - Settles back into Aegon’s Rest.
25 AC - Present.
Family Tree
Name and House: Baelor Belaerys
Age: 45
Cultural Group: Valyrian
Appearance: Long silver hair reaching his shoulders, purple eyes and a slender build. The Lord of Aegon’s Rest naturally appears unamused and irritated in appearance.
Trait:Inspiring
Skill(s): Tactician(e), Cavalryman
Talent(s): Fishing
Negative Trait(s):
Starting Title(s):Lord of Aegon’s Rest
Starting Location: Opening Party
Alternate Characters: N.A

Bio

Born twenty years prior to the Conquest to Monterys Belaery and his younger sister, Jaenara Belaerys. Baelor has two siblings, Baelon and a younger sister named Elaena. He spent his entire youth on Dragonstone until he’d grown to become a member of the household guard for the Targaryens.
During the Conquest, he’d land with Aegon at what is now known as King’s Landing with his father Monterys Balaerys, ever faithful warriors to the Kings cause. He'd die in the arms of his child during the Field of Fire.
He would go down as one of the hundred men who fell for Aegon against the Reach. Even now Baelor can recall the sight, he’d cut down two men when he’d witnessed his father fall as arrows riddle his aged body. Instead of pushing on and charging, Baelor would fall to his knees beside his father and seek to shield him as he looked up towards those banners in the distance.
A red huntsman preparing to let loose once more but then his savior would come. A bright flash turned everything in the distance into flame. He remembers men ablaze running in all directions as they cooked.
Aegon had burnt them too late but he did not blame his kin as his father died in his arms. This was the war they’d signed up for, the cause they’d devoted themselves to. All so they could fight and earn a place in what Monterys called the remaking of Valyria.
And so Baelor continued on in his father’s memory. Loyal and faithful as ever. When the Conqueror took the faith, so did he, when Aegon made North to face the Starks, he marched albeit well behind in the army.
Forever loyal to the cause that was Aegon Targaryen, as many were. But that cause would crumble when the Tullys killed his beloved King, a man he'd served, a man he'd die for, a True Dragonlord.
Much to Baelor's surprise he’d gain a Lordship, his line's long loyal efforts, their staunch desire to fight for the Targaryens and in truth partly sheer luck on his part given he was nothing but a knight swore to the Dragonlords had finally amounted to something.
Visenya would bestow upon him Aegon's Rest. To say that he was surprised would be an understatement. He had no great displays of valor, no moments where he’d made himself any more remarkable than any other man but the Queen had granted his line the burnt ruins of Riverrun, now named in the honor of the man he’d once served.
Still he knew that he was no true Lord, he was but a warrior who had served the Targaryens and he’d wanted his son to be more than that. He knew that his child could do what many before him had hoped for, that he could finally amount to something since the fall and this was his chance to make his ancestors proud.
The boy was young enough that he was easily shaped into the Westerosi way of life in the years following Aegon’s conquest. Aelor had to be a knight he’d thought, skilled in Rivermen matters, charming and bold. That was what Baelor had dreamt for Aelor but his son was anything but the making of a Knightly Statesmen.
Aelor was too slow with a blade, letters move about in his mind and made his Maesters grow tired of the boy and his temperament, oh how horrible the boy was they’d proclaim! Spoiled by his father and mother, by servants and smallfolk who’d thought him charming and sweet.
It was when his sister-wife died that Baelor would lessen his grip on Aelor. Grief overtook him and he’d hoped that would be the wake up call for Aelor but it wasn’t. The boy was a rebel, loved by the smallfolk but too darn incapable of being the perfect Lord he’d envisioned he’d be.
Many years later he’d decide he had enough. Baelor doesn’t recall calling his son a disappointment to his people but he did say the boy was not his heir and that he’d already found a new bride to make one with.
He’d wed Jeyne Westerling the next year and would sire a child with her the year after. They’d call him Aegon in honor of the Conqueror. It’d be months after the birth that he’d receive a letter from Raventree Hall asking for his assistance and given that he’d felt closer to the Blackwoods, Baelor would begin to raise his men in preparation for war.
That was when his son would return, a different man now with a dragon. He’d felt as if the dream had come true, that the House Belarys had returned to their true place on the food chain and he’d wanted to congratulate his son when he’d returned but Aelor fled, his brother Baelon would tell him that the younger Belearys had gone to fight the war.
That made him proud.
And that pride would shatter when Aelor returned and told him he’d stopped the war. The happy and charming boy stood before him stoic, quiet, as if he didn't want to be in the same room as him.
All his son would say was that he’d wanted to see his brother and he saw him. After that, Aelor would say Aegon’s Rest belonged to him and he’d have it once the old man died and that was rather sad to hear from one’s own son.
For years after Baelor would not see his boy but he’d hear that Aelor was see in this region or that region. He’d use the boon that came from having a dragonrider son to push himself into powerful places in various courts, Casterly Rock albeit he did not remain there long and of course across the Riverlands as a whole.
His goal was to display power through his son and even if he were away, he’d do it.
When Aelor returned he’d find that his son had forever been changed. No longer was he some great rebellious spirit but instead a man who believed himself better than even his own father. Some of the Smallfolk would even claim that he was the ‘Father’s Flame’.
They did not see his drinking albeit he’d stop eventually. They did not see how he’d carried himself as if he were some God.
Baelor knew that this was what every ancestor he’d had since the Doom had wanted but Aelor was different than most men now and that Veraxes was a pain in the ass to feed.

Timeline

20 BC - Born to Monterys and Jaenara.
2 BC - Sires the bastard Daemon which results in his parents wedding him to his sister, Baela the next year.
1 AC - Lands with Aegon and watches his father die in the Field of Flames due to the Reachmen.
7 AC - Aegon dies, he weeps for his King and Visenya grants him Aegon’s Rest. They dedicate a Dark colored sword akin to Dark Sister on their banners in her honor.
12 AC - Baela dies and he pulls away from his son Aelor.
16 AC - Tells Aelor to kick rocks and weds Jeyne Westerling.
18 AC - Aegon is born.
Baelon Belaerys - Magnate
Aemon Belaerys - Builder