Roof of mouth pain and swelling

So I got my angel fangs pierced yesterday, I was pierced with an 16 gage 16mm bar that’s surgical steel. My swelling has gone down a lot and I can see bruising but I feel like this jewelry is to big, sometimes when I talk the bar will side down and get in the way of my mouth movements. Any advice?

Two weeks on Spiro and just wanted to share my story as reading everyone else’s has been so helpful.
Week 1: didn’t visibly see a big change but I felt a big change. I had very swollen cysts that were filled with dark red blood and in just one week the swelling decreased significantly that I could actually put pressure on my skin when washing my face without intense pain and I was SOOOO itchy because of the swelling going down 😂
Week 2: continues to feel progress but I’ve started to experience depression/foggy brain. I’ve never really experienced depression before and without going too in depth it was bleak and rough. Luckily many others on here had recommended taking it at night instead of the morning and 2 days so far that has helped.
Just two weeks have been a whirlwind 😂 I hope to update with more success in the coming weeks!

[Part 3]
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 MOTHERFUCKERS!!!”
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 everyone for reading! Thank you George for helping me with your clue!

[Part 2]
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.
Suddenly a whisper could be heard from the darkness at the front of the line. “Duck.” Then another slightly louder, “Duck” … and then another, and then another … each “Duck” a little louder than before. Is there a duck here in the sewers? Olyvar thought.
“Duck.”
“Duck.”
“Duck.”
“Duck.”
Finally Leo turned around and told Goose, “Hello … Duck.”
Goose replied with pride, “I am no Duck!” Instantly as the tall knight crept forward, he thumped his head on an unlit rusty beam that was lowered onto their path. He fell backwards into a puddle of wet cold stool, ass first, toes off the ground, and staining his breeches. “Awww shit!”
Ser Olyvar helped the soiled knight up as his squire, Leo, told everyone in front what happened. They all forgot their stealth, and began to laugh.
“Come on Goose, you are slowing us down!” someone said.
“Ducks can move faster than you, Goose! You have to catch up and chase after us now!” a voice that sounded like Scrooge, said.
“You have to be more nimble and more quick Goose!” another one japed.
“All over my life, I have travelled land and sea. From my experiences, I learned that I would rather be more lucky!” the unclean bandit knight replied with the truth. “Or get lucky! Heh!” the daffy Goose added cheerfully.
“But you are no duck, right Goose?” Ser Raynard’s voice called.
They continued to laugh and began moving forward again. Ser Barnabus the stinking Goose with his honor stained, stood up and pointed his chin high. “Aye my lords, this bird you cannot change!” He shook his tailfeather, took himself low, and was ready to go.
As the thunderstorm clouds outside shifted, a pale grey blade of light emerged from a crack in the walls and shone the brown spot where Goose had fallen. It illuminated a tiny golden speck. Looking back and curious, Goose placed both hands through the muck, underneath the lumpy object and pulled. He lifted up a slimy brown sphere, the size of an orange, and rubbed off the slush. Goose held the carved rock to the thin line of the dying light and widened his large eyes.
Gold, unmistakable. “Goose, did you just lay a golden egg?” Olyvar japing quietly.
“I guess I did!” Goose whispered in glee. Ser Barnabus began singing to it softly. “I know that you don’t know it, but you’re a find so fine! And I’m going to show you that now you’re a mined of mine! My treasure, that is what you are! My precious, you’re my golden star! Hehehe!” He hugged it. Goose looked back to Olyvar. “Don’t tell the Black Sparrow!” He continued to giggle, despite scarring his face at the forehead. “Leo, come over here! Say hello to my little friend!”
His young squire came back, ducked under and asked. “Say hello to who? The Black Sparrow? He isn’t very little in person.”
“No you stupid sweet boy, definitely avoid the Black Sparrow! That captain is not my friend, my friend. We have to fool that fool.” He showed an astonished Leo the little golden egg before he hid it again from sight. They continued up the path towards their objective with Ser Goose the tall hedge knight finally ducking under, his pants stained in brown.
Olyvar had lost count of how far they ascended as they reached one of Ser Rolph Spicer’s checkpoints. They rested there for a few moments where the paths forked into several other directions. He then instructed Ser Olyvar Frey, Lady Mormont and Leo to wait here until the rest returned. In the meanwhile, they were to familiarize themselves with the area in case they needed a detour.
Not long after the group left them, Olyvar heard another man speaking through the rocky walls. Maege followed the voice through one of the forks, and found a hole that appeared to spy into a cell of the castle’s dungeons. She peeked through and spoke in disgust “Gods! What the hell! No!” She left the area and began looking for an entrance into the dungeons from the hidden hallways. Olyvar peeped through the hole and saw what seems to be an old maester in robes, with many rings around his neck. Inside, he harbored a boy and a girl who appeared to be twins, no older than ten. The boy had his shirt off, while the maester sniffed the girl’s hair and had a hand cupped at her clothed chest.
What in Seven Hells? Olyvar thought.
The elderly maester spoke to them, as they trembled like leaves. “Thank you children for helping me. I am Maester Valarik, this is very very important research for, um, the Citadel. Now let’s begin.”
Suddenly out of nowhere, Lady Maege Mormont burst open the dungeon door. “Let’s not!”
The shocked maester jolted to his feet, confused. “Are you their mother?”
“A MOTHER!” the She-Bear claimed in her crony crackling voice as she walked up to Valarik. Here she stood as Lady Mormont kicked the maester in between the legs, his screams alive with pain. His eyes began to tear as he fell backwards to the ground. Lady Mormont dropped down to him and drew her dagger. “Shut your mouth or I’ll make an eunuch out of you!” The maester still in agony replied with a silent nod. She lied to the twins, saying she was a washerwoman employed to the castle. “What the maester did was wrong and I will have the castellan punish him.” She urged the siblings to go home, but not tell anyone what had happened until they were outside of Casterly Rock. After they left, Maege in her barbaric tone told the maester, “You dusty fuck! Get in there!” as she led him into the hidden hallways behind the dungeon.
Ser Olyvar greeted the hostage, “Not another word Maester Valarik. She may geld you but I will shove my dagger up your arse.”
They continued to wait at the checkpoint, anxious for the Blackfish’s return with Queen Jeyne and Lord Edmure. Leo brushed back a lock of his ash-blond hair that fell down across one eye. Lady Mormont continued to stare at Valarik’s crotch while holding her naked dagger, twirling it at the pointy end for boredom. The silent maester was well aware, and would not return his eyes to meet hers.
Suddenly they heard a woman’s moan echoing in the distance. Torchlight illuminated the foot of the pathway and brightening the walls with each passing moment. Escorted by Goose, a thin girl with a mop of chestnut hair emerged. She was pretty like the daisy sewn on her gown that was covering a flat chest. “Eleyna!” Olyvar was animated. They hugged as he asked, “So what happened to your breasts?”
“I ate them.” She said in her high cheery voice. She stuck her small chest out, chin in the air, fists at the end of her narrow hips and twerked it for two beats. “How you like them apples?”
Olyvar smiled at the inside joke.
The Useless Goose then grabbed Leo and tapped Eleyna’s shoulders from behind. “Hi, have you met Leo?” Barnabus vanished in an instant.
She turned around and introduced herself. “Hello Leo, I’m Eleyna, the Queen’s sister.”
Leo was star-struck. “Are you a princess?”
“I guess I am a princess,” she said sarcastically. “Are you here to rescue me?”
Leo nodded up and down, trying to contain his excitement.
“Leo O’ Leo … my hero!” She kissed him on the cheeks, and Leo’s face began to blush, red as apples.
His brothers Raff, Donal, and Mikkal had emerged from the rocky opening just in time to watch. They wrapped their arms around one another, and nodded proudly at their youngest brother.
The others soon followed, pouring out of the tunnel entrance. Olyvar greeted his brother-in-law Lord Edmure Tully. “My sister is waiting for you back at the ship, with my future nephew or niece. Be a good father to your child.”
“And you be a good uncle. It is a honor to have you at our side, Ser Olyvar,” Lord Edmure replied respectfully.
Lady Sybell Spicer came down with her brother Ser Rolph, clutching a moaning Queen Jeyne Stark on both sides. She was garbed in simple loose fitted robes, pretending to serve as Eleyna’s plumped handmaiden. Olyvar was ecstatic. Jeyne’s mother then announced, “She is in labor!”
“What?!” As Olyvar and Maege said in unison. “Now!?”
Olyvar ran to Jeyne, straight to his sister’s arms and she kissed him on the forehead. “I kept my promise,” Olyvar told her.
Jeyne was feverish, sweating and mumbling words. “You did, I knew you were somewhere beyond the sea. I was here waiting for all of you, to sneak onto golden sand and rock. I was watching all the ships sailing by, not knowing which one will be my daring escape.” She looked towards her other brother Raynald. “I just knew my Ray lied somewhere over the ocean, and my Olly lied somewhere over the sea … both my brothers fighting to come back to me. Up in this castle mountain where it meets the heavens above, out where lightning splits the sea, I could still feel you two watching me. Through the wind, the chilly sea, and the rain … and now the storm and the flood. I felt your approach like the fires in your blood! I need … I need …”
“We need to go!” Ser Olyvar finished for her.
As the others began going into the next tunnel, the Queen in the North shook all the right-hands of the strangers that came to rescue her, while each man placed a left-palm on her round belly for a soft instant. With Jory, Jess, Ser Spicer, Ser Brynden and her brother Ser Raynard, she gave a hug each. She then trailed all of them with Olyvar and Raynard holding her weight. They descended down the path they came from, back to the LionsJape, WinterStorm and BattleWolf. Queen Jeyne Stark continued to scream. Oh, bloody shit. This will be the death of us. The descent will be much faster, but it was still a long way to go. With the Queen moaning in labor, they decided to light two more torch lights. Being heard here is just as unfortunate as being seen. But the darkness in front of him still faded in and out, confusing Olyvar’s eyes in blur. For a moment, the knight fantasized about golden dragons down here in the empty gold mines and sewers of Casterly Rock, to illuminate the rest of the route with flames … expediting the rescue.
Where in the hell is Lord Gawen Westerling? His trumpets and drums? It would at least muffle out Jeyne’s cry. At any moment, they could be heard … and then they could be trapped.
Then the Blackfish noticed Maester Valarik was in their party. “Who in the Seven Hells are you?”
Lady Maege told Ser Brynden and allowed the quivering maester to speak. “I am the maester of Casterly Rock. I don’t know what is going on here. Pl- … please let me go, I won’t say a word. I … I am innocent, I was just treating the children for an illness.”
“You said it was for research,” Maege interrupted.
“Um … bb … both,” the maester lied.
“In a dungeon? No tools nor vials?” Maege questioned rhetorically.
The maester had no answer for that. He looked back to the Blackfish. “Ser, you must understand-“
The Blackfish cuts him off. “Must I? I heard enough of your sorcery, Maester. Shut your mouth or I’ll throw you out of a window.”
The group was nearing the sea’s level, until they encountered the original path that dipped up and down. It was filled with flooded water from the storm surges. Ser Brynden Tully cursed at the sea trap. Olyvar knows the Blackfish could swim under it like he did at the moat of Riverrun, but not the others. They began to retreat and regroup.
Ser Rolph approached Ser Brynden, not shaken nor stirred, and offered a detour. “Follow me, this way leads to the kitchen of that courtyard at the base of the cliffs. At that courtyard, there is a large sewer drain that would lead us back to the paths of the rowboats. It is risky, we may be spotted.”
“We may be sitting ducks,” Goose added to the complaint.
“We have no choice,” said the Blackfish.
They followed Ser Rolph, with his niece still moaning.
They reached the hidden entrance to the kitchen and began to secure the area with weapons & shields drawn. It was empty. No gatherings or weddings were to be held outdoor this evenfall, especially with the thunderstorm. Olyvar peeked outside. Overcast clouds threw down rain-water onto dirt and stone, as the setting sun was half bathe into the ocean’s clear golden horizon. The courtyard by the sea was no bigger than the feast hall at the Twins. Stone pathways met at the middle, leading into a circular floor-drain that was exposed at the center of the yard. Twenty feet high granite pillars the size of tree trunks supported the open rectangular balcony above the ground level, overlooking the ocean. The kitchen doors were connected to the bottom level, but Olyvar was unsure what would lurk above them on the second floor balconies, with its four feet high parapet and six feet of platform width. Lightning flashed the columns bright white as the wet grass turned into mud.
Ser Brynden paced around the kitchen for a moment, trying to hide his shaking hands. He assessed the situation and regrouped the band of brothers. “Bows and arrows,” he commanded … and they obeyed. “Each men take cover behind a pillar. Sprint to it and establish a defensive stance with an arrow nocked to the string of your bow. Keep your eyes open. Rico will run to the middle alone, pull out the drain cover and retreat back. Alesander! Ray! Run to the opened drain and descend down the ladder. Once it is clear, let us know. We’ll bring Jeyne down first, followed by her sister and mother, and then Edmure.”
“Brothers!” as they assemble behind the closed double doors in single line. “Nock!”
From a window, Maester Valarik spied over to the drain, and then tried to block the traffic at the kitchen exit. “This is absurd! I have friends in court and I can vouch for you! Give yourselves up! This is madness, this is ludicrous!”
The She-Bear grabbed him. “Move maester, get out of the way!” She threw him to the corner by the pantry. Lady Mormont drew her dagger, gleaming silvery-blue for an instant as a crack of thunder boomed through the window. She pressed the flat of her blade onto his crotch and the terrified maester began to piss himself. Lady Maege disgusted, leaned back and threatened, “We have not killed anyone yet. You stay here like a good quiet dog and oblige, or this bear lady will rock your head away with a club when she comes back!”
Ser Brynden opened the double doors as Ben and Benjen held it. The Blackfish ran out first, around the perimeter to the furthest side of the terrace, forty yards away with bow & arrow in hand. The other men followed and fell into their positions, squishing their footsteps on the mud and stone.
Rico, Phyl, and Sam the Shredder followed the Blackfish to the southern side and took cover behind a column each. Scrooge, Donal, Raff, Mikkal and Leo sprinted for the eastern pillars as June, Jory, Jess, Fess and Lord Galbart Glover took the west. Ben and Benjen left their kitchen doors to joined Ser Goose and Ser Rolph Spicer at the closest posts of the north.
Queen Jeyne, Lady Maege, Lady Eleyna, Lady Sybell, and Lord Edmure stayed inside the kitchen with Ser Olyvar … as Ser Raynard and Alesander were ready to their task.
Rico unarmed, darted from his column towards the center of the courtyard and tore open the drain cover with ease. He flung it over the mountainous wall and into the sea as he headed back to his pillar, re-arming himself with the bow.
Alesander Frey and Ser Raynald Westerling, dashed towards the open drain and attempted to descend. Their shields, quivers and bows were caught at the circular entrance, so they discarded them at the base before going below. After Ser Raynald gave the clearance, Olyvar and Maege discarded their weapons and escorted Jeyne slowly and gently towards their escape, their clothes soaking in the rain. Olyvar kept Honor slung center at his back. Raynald offered himself as Jeyne sat on her older brother’s shoulders as they descended down the twenty foot ladder. Olyvar was doing everything he could to keep Jeyne stable from above as rain-water trickled down the drain.
When they reached the bottom, Olyvar noticed a weirwood tree staring right at him. A godswood? Here? The cavern was surrounded by roots and several rocky openings as well. He paid it no more mind and walked Jeyne towards a sewer entrance where Alesander was waiting for them. “The rowboats are not far! I see them, just a few more paces from here. I’ll keep a lookout on that exit.” He scouted ahead again.
Jeyne could not advance any further and fell lightly to the ground. “I can’t move anymore.”
Lady Maege came down the ladder and positioned herself between Jeyne’s legs. “Push your Grace! Push! Push!”
The rumbling of the thunderstorm was getting much louder.
Leo surprisingly came down with Eleyna and told Olyvar, “I think I hear a few soldiers moving on the second floor balcony. The parapets won’t allow us to see what’s hidden behind it.”
No not now. “It could be just the thunderstorm,” Olyvar hoped.
Lady Sybell and Lord Edmure Tully soon followed down the ladder. “I believe there are Lannister soldiers getting into positions above us. They must be waiting for more of their reinforcement to arrive,” Edmure sounded sure.
Olyvar cursed.
The Blackfish came down next. “We need to leave now. The storm surges will steal our rowboats as well.”
Jeyne was still moaning. Maege was still instructing, “Push! Push! Push!”
Olyvar began panicking in this awful shit-storm of a mess. “We need to go now! The soldiers are coming! The thunderstorm is coming!”
“WINTER IS COMING BETWEEN HER GRACES LEGS!” Maege screamed back.
Olyvar could not help but to chuckled for a beat before being serious again. “Bloody shit. Winter needs to be going!”
“Look son, I’m not your mother. You go figure it out yourself,” Lady Maege protested.
Olyvar felt like a fool below the Rock, looking back at all the wrong paths that got him lost here. If I just lied to my father of my intentions, and informed his Grace not to come to the Twins, we would not be here now at some shit sewer in the Westerlands. Jeyne would be crying in childbirth at Winterfell after Robb had retaken it from the Ironborn. King, Queen and babe Stark would be safe and sound. And me … I would be their Kingsguard knight … Ser Olyvar Frey … the Kingsavior.
“Ray, go find Alesander and summon him to return here to help. He is not far.”
Olyvar looked toward his Queen as Maege Mormont continued working in between Jeyne’s thighs, awaiting for the wolf-pup that their world was here for. Let us pray it is only one babe. A pair of twins would surely mean the doom of them. There was nothing Olyvar realistically wanted more now than Lord Gawen’s trumpets, and his young son Rollam’s drum rolls. Where is our diversion to get the Lannister soldiers to march away from us?
Goose tried to come down the ladder next, but the big man was stuck on top even with his weapons and shield forfeited. His golden egg had bulged out from his pocket, stopping him from entering the small circular drain. He was trying to work it out of his clothes.
Olyvar kneeled down next to his Queen, trying to facilitate this shit storm anyway he could. He went to feel for the letter he wrote to his father, but instead found the colorful bright feather that Captain Samullu gave to him earlier. He offered it to Queen Stark for some comfort.
“A gift? It is so beautiful Olyvar,” she said in discomfort. “I have a gift for you as well.” She summoned her mother and removed a thin cloak from her purse. Queen Jeyne Stark took it and unveiled it to Olyvar. It was the castle of the Twins, colored in grey, seated on a field red hot as a chilled blue stream flowed under the bridge. Olyvar motioned to give her his back, and she attached the cloak onto him. “I knitted it myself.”
“It is gorgeous my Queen. What does it mean? The water under the bridge?”
“It means forgiveness here, so you can move on. Now promise me Olyvar, don’t leave us again. Protect us. Protect your King’s child. We must never separate again.”
Ser Olyvar Frey gave the Queen his word.
Goose had finally removed the golden rock from his hidden pocket, and held it with his hand. At the moment useless, the knight threw down the golden egg to Leo, as it flashed bright from the lightning above. The knight started down and down the ladder.
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.
[Part 4]

A scrawny teenger in baggy clothes clothes walks past a man late at night who looked like he was suited up to go on a business trip. The teen bumps his shoulder decently hard.
“Sorry man, I didn’t see you there.” The teenagers says looking at him awkwardly. The man looks at him for a moment, almost looking a bit annoyed before he mutters. “It’s fine…” then walks off not thinking much of it.
The teenager runs around the corner and one of his friends is right there waiting for him. “So did you get it?” The other teenager whispered. He pulls out a wallet from out of his hoodie pocket and looks at him smiling. “Dude! See is this why I’m always workin with you you Aaron.” He says sounding excited. “You’re a bit meek but, you know how to run pockets like a pro. How about we spilt what’s in it fifty-fifty?” Ryder takes the wallet from his hand and pockets it.
“Fifty-fifty?! Don’t forget that I’m the one stole it so.” He says.
“Whatever man we’ll figure it out later. Let’s just get out of here.” Ryder exclaims.
They walks out into the street and see the man they stole the wallet from and a police office. The guy pointing directly at us while talking. “Shit, dude run!” Aaron yells before bolting into the alleyways.
They start running in between the alleys so they couldn’t be chased in a vehicle. They run for awhile before, they eventually loose him and decide to find somewhere to stay while they’re still hiding. After a bit of searching the city ends and an eery looking forest is up ahead. The trees almost looking like they’re decomposing, the branches completely devoid of life. “This spot works, let’s just go further in” Ryder exclaims.
“Hey Ryder. Maybe we should go back into the city… This place looks sketchy.” Aaron whispers. “They probably aren’t even looking for us anymore.”
Ryder starts walking into the forest, Aaron following behind closely. “You really don’t need to be such a pussy about everything y’know. We’ll be fine and besides if anyone tries anything.” Ryder shows Aaron a gun holstered under his shirt. It’s a standard revolver in good condition. “My Dad left it in his room last night.” He tells him.
After about 10 minutes of wondering into the forest they both decide it’s time to start heading back. “Alright man, I think it’s about time we start heading back. I think we’re safe by now.” Ryder spouts. Turning around to start heading back.
They both suddenly feel a breeze blow pass them. A breeze felt throughout the entire body, one that they feel so vividly on their skin, that it feels like it went right through their clothing. Whilst a sudden feeling of uneasiness spreads throughout them both.
“What was that?! Is someone there?! What just happened to me?!” Aaron shouts as he runs close to Ryder for protection.
Ryder quickly pushes him away telling him. “Back off dude! Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time man! Grow some fucking balls for once, it’s just a breeze.” Ryder starts walking off. Aaron quickly following not wanting to be left alone.
“Well I just thought since you had the gun and all…” Aaron says adopting a more passive stance. “How much money is even in that wallet we decided to risk it all for.”
“Um… that’s actually a good question.” Ryder exclaims before pulling out the wallet to count up the money. He unzips the top of it and pulls out roughly about twenty to thirty 100 dollar bills.
“Dude… that guy had to be wealthy or something huh? That’s what? Two thousand? Maybe a bit more?” Aaron says before suddenly another breeze is felt. Only this time a bit more intense then before. Almost feeling like it’s moving through their body. A a intense jolt felt throughout them.
Ryder seems to be trying to ignore the jolt. “That’s! Not your problem right now! How much money we made is a problem for later. Getting out of this damn forest is our current problem, right?!” He yells.
“Right…” Aaron says meekly.
As they start walking back Aaron can’t help but stay close to Ryder. Over-analyzing his surroundings, scared of what comes next. Whilst Ryder seems to be just be moving forward without thinking.
“Are we even going the right way? I fe-“ Ryder tries to say but as they’re both suddenly hit by more breeze. This feeling of shock is spread throughout every nerve of their bodies. “Okay what’s with this wind man!” Ryder yells.
Ryder pushes Aaron to the ground, standing above him looking down at him. His face looks on edge but also frightened, like he could either explode or break down at any moment. “Get up…” Ryder demanded. “Cause if you aren’t gonna be of any use” The moment Aaron stands back up Ryder tosses his bag at him. “You’re carrying my stuff.”
They both continue down the path. Continuing in silence as they try to make their way back to the city. Aaron now staying a bit farther away from Ryder now. Suddenly another breeze blows through, however this breeze much stronger and longer. A feeling so painful Ryder collapses to the ground whilst Aaron who was behind him barely manages to stay standing holding on to a tree.
Ryder regains his composure and managed to stand back up before walking over to Aaron and presses his shoulder against a tree. “Aaron what the fuck did you just do to me!” Ryder yells and kicks Aaron in the leg.
“I didn’t do anything! The same thing happened to me man. You have to trust me here.” Aaron pleaded starting to get more tensed up.
“Bullshit! You’re still standing!” Ryder says and pulls out the revolver, aiming it at Aaron. “You’re trying to sabotage me! You just wanna take it all for yourself!” Ryder puts his finger on the trigger pointing it at Aaron.
Aaron starts to see a shadowy figure far away, barely visible but, definitely unsettling. As he looks at this figure he couldn’t help but feel a sudden shock of paranoia.
“Dude Ryder there’s something over there…” Aaron plead.
“And why should I believe you, huh?” The shadowy figure gets closer as a Ryder speaks. “You just want me to look away so you can do whatever you did to me before. Not happening!”
As the figure gets closer you can see more of it’s features. It’s head is covered by a hood and it’s face is pale, looking wrinkled and aged. It speaks softly, yet it’s voice is loud and present. “Paranoia…” it murmurs. As they hear it’s voice they tense up as it makes their nerves stand on edge.
Ryder looks back and points the gun at the figure. “Dude stay back man! I said stay the fuck back!” Ryder shouts then shoots at the figure. It seems to have went right through it. “What the hell is going on!” Ryder yells and shoots a few more times.
The creature extends it’s palm his hand tries to touch to touch Ryder. Right before he makes contact Ryder tries to make break for it but, the creature simply snaps his fingers and Ryder falls dead in his tracks, frightened and scared.
The creature sticks his hand into his back, his hand going straight through him. Like it’s body was just made of air particles. Ryder screams as his body aches in pain. His body slowly starting to decay while still being left alive. “Feed my forest young one…” The creature spoke.
Ryders flesh starts to decay on a rapid pace. His flesh disappears until nothing is left except bone. “Ryder!” Aaron screams as watches in horror.
Aaron quickly bolts back into the forest. Seeing a bright light coming from the city. Aaron cries out for anyone, sprinting towards escape. The creature blows a gust of air from it’s mouth and Aaron falls to the ground after feeling it only feet away from safety. Aaron screams louder calling for anyone. Getting back on his feet and tries to run but the creature manages to make contact with his foot.
Aaron quickly falls again but a hand suddenly grabs his and pulls him in. The creature falls back into the forest, almost like it’s the only place it can live. Disappearing into thin air as it makes a loud hissing sound. Seemingly angry with letting a kill get away. “Dude what the in actually fuck was that that.” The man says feeling frightened.
“I don’t know but it’s dangerous…” Aaron mumbles. “I just want to go home…”
Aaron goes back home not saying a word to anyone. Even after months passing Aaron still felt the effects of that night. He just tends to stay to himself now. He never told anyone about what happened that night. He doesn’t trust that they’ll keep his secret. He doesn’t really trust anyone anymore. Sometimes he feels the pain he felt that night, almost like the creatures very touch had cursed him but, one thing he tells people constantly.
Stay out of The Forest of Paranoia…

[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. Fuck 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 bitch 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 fuck 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, fuck 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 whore! 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]

My dog, Sweet Pea, is a 15 year old pit bull terrier. Until earlier this year, she showed zero signs of slowing down.
She yelped one day while doing a bit of play in the bed. (March 11th) After which she acted as if her leg was a little tender, but nothing terribly concerning. She's geriatric after all.
After a week of no improvement, we did a telehealth vet visit, and were told she most likely had arthritis. Suggestions of glucosamine supplements and fish oil were given, which was followed.
Still, there was no improvement. April comes and her thigh muscle becomes tense, her leg is up against her body. She is NOT holding it up. It requires force to move down.
A in person visit is completed, no x-rays done at time. She is diagnosed with an ACL tear, but I disagree because she passes the cruciate failure test. White willow anti inflamatories are given. Shows small improvement for a few days, then returns to the same.
May 10th. Comes out of crate after sleeping with severely swollen leg (50% larger than other leg). We are in a rural area and call to go to a better vet. First appoinment possible is June 7th.
June 3rd. Wakes up with SEVERE swelling in leg. Triple the size of the other leg. Leg is now straight down. Bears weight on leg, mobility severely affected. NO pain. Eating and drinking, playing, not lethargic, not dehydrated, no fever.
June 7th. Vet visit. Tentative diagnosis of osteosarcoma, pending x-rays on June 28th. Given carpofen for swelling, gabapentin as needed if pain. Kidneys and liver tested with good function.
Gabapentin has not been given. She's not in pain. I know a lot of vet owners won't see the signs of it. But truly she is not in pain. Willing to run on leg. Happy. Sleeps well. No panting. You can manuever the leg, squeeze the leg, palpate the leg and she'll sleep through it if asleep.
Carpofen given 5 times. And the mass is now no longer AS hard. It seems to be breaking up in spots, which (correct me if wrong) osteosarcoma wouldn't do.
But what else could it be? Could it respond this way if osteosarcoma. Please please help.
Images and videos of progression included in imgur link.
https://imgur.com/a/m7zmoD7

4 1/2 month update.
I started this journey in late January on a minimal dosage of 2mg estradiol, 50mg spiro, and 1mg of fina. Month 3 I was increase to 4mg of estradiol.. and now the past three weeks my physician has set me up on 100mg of spiro, 6mg of estradiol, and 5mg of fina to me I would consider that finally an acceptable standard dosage.
I wanted to share two raw unedited photos of myself for the first time to show you changes. Prior to this journey I was an empty suicidal shell full of pain & hatred. There was no joy or internal peace in my life and I was completely empty inside. I felt no love for anyone. I was lost, I remember sticking a gun in my mouth and screaming.. only to realize that it would only transfer my pain to others. There was no need to do it. People depended on me I’m a provider.. I sought help out immediately.
Time passed and things got better, but the anxiety of living authentically ate me alive. I spent a lot of time talking to professionals, doctors, and important people in my life before I made the choice to move forward to being myself. The one thing I feared was losing everything, and the people I love but then you learn that if people truly love you they will be there with you.. if they don’t, they don’t deserve you. I’ve learned that our lives our so precious, limited, and we have to be true to ourselves. We have to be happy! I’m not doing this for any attention! Im just happy I’m finally able to live the remaining part of my life authentically, and I’m looking forward to the future.
Since I’ve started this process my anxiety & pain is finally gone I’m at peace with myself. The world seems better, I’m happier and for the first time I actually feel something. I can love, I can smile, and I can laugh.
Here is what I was, and here is the raw photo of myself as of 6/9/24

I would like to preface this by saying I am planning on going to the doctor. I have an appointment to the Gl next week.
I (19F) have always had stomach issues, but they have been evolving to be even more annoying and ruining my day-to-day life where I can't go out with family because I fear l'm gonna have an episode. Originally, it would just be a simple stomach ache (and the occasional diarrhea), which I associate with anxiety and I am being treated for the anxiety (sertraline) which helped the stomach aches.
But now I have started to experience some acid reflux on top of stomach aches. I take medicine (omeprazole) for it but sometimes when I'm out with friends I have to stop eating because I feel like I'm gonna throw up.
But I'm not nauseous at all. It ruins my entire day and I have to go home immediately. There's pressure on my diaphragm and sometimes a stabbing pain in my left ribcage. My jaw and throat lock up and go numb. I'm terrified that if I open my mouth l'll just vomit. My scalp burns and prickles and sometimes I get heart palpitations.
The more I think about it the worse it gets so l have to sit there and go blank to not think at all. My most recent 'episode' was caused by simply eating some french fries. I felt weird and had to spit it out then leave the restaurant. Honestly it's embarassing and I'm sure l completely ruined the mood for my family.
Now I just ask for my food to-go so l don't experience it again. I want answers. I've had an endoscopy, colonoscopy, and two ultrasounds for my gallbladder and uterus. Nothing is abnormal. All I have is a mild case of chronic gastritis which, in the Doc's words, is normal. I even sent stool samples which were also normal. I don't know if it's in my head or if something physically wrong with me.
If it means anything, last year around March I got sick and threw up for 9 hours straight, couldn't find the cause. May have been food poisoning. Needless to say, l absolutely fear vomiting now which doesn’t help my situation.
For anyone who took the time to read this and/or comment, thank you. It's really hard dealing with this and it's nice to know others out there are willing to help.

Ever since I was 11 years old I've been desperate to find my way out of my parents house due to how much traumas my mother have inflicted on me. Living with her in the same roof made my everyday life like hell.
At this point I can't even call her mother, it's too painful. (HER = mother)
At 16 years of age I found a job at a cafe to earn my own pocket money and lessen my burden of HER saying that I owe her my life big time because she gives me a house, bed, money, education, food and etc. I was proud that I took my first step of moving out courageously on my own. It was my opportunity to escape from home together with the dance group I recently joined that time.
Eventually finding another job opportunity at an entertainment company at 18, I was able to earn more. I was able to get the space and boundaries I wanted from HER, thus the weight has lifted a bit from my shoulder. Then promotion and opportunities came to me from the job and dance group.
And then after I graduated my course's subj got harder to manage and I was starting to fall behind my attendance and submissions. Since my relationship with HER started to get better I thought I can rely and ask help from HER like one daughter should've experienced.
I decided to quit my job and ended my journey in the dance group to focus on my studies and career path since it is free and my parents are providing it for me. I wanted to become a good and helpful daughter with the support of my parents. Unfortunately, a week after my progress and motivation the University called HER regarding about my absences and late submissions.
Then like the rain hiding under the clouds I fell back to zero and observed that sometimes people just really don't change and that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb... and I'm back at the bottom where I started again... where everyday feels like a threat as I stay home and finish my assessments...
My question is why when I decide to do something better, productive and family oriented, I instead get dragged and stepped down upon?
And how can I live on my own?

Hello,
I am 25F, generally healthy, no smoking or drug use, not sexually active.
I am currently taking Keflex (take oral 4x a day for 10 days. I am on day 4/10).
I found a pea sized hard lump on my labia minora. No swelling, itching, fevers, chills, abnormal discharge, pain, or discomfort.
The first day I found it, I squeezed a little too hard and drained some dark colored blood from a small opening that was the size of a needle prick.
The second day, there was a small yellowish white dot where the opening was. I squeezed to drain and just a little bit of fluid came out and then some blood after.
The third day, only a little bit of light colored blood.
On the fourth day, I went to the doctor, she examined it, and she prescribed Keflex. She called it an infected lump and said to check back with my PCP if nothing changes.
Currently, I am on day 4 of antibiotics and nothing has changed-- no symptoms, no pain, nothing, and the size feels the same. I have scheduled a follow up next week, but am concerned that nothing is changing with antibiotics.
Please advise!! Thank you!!

Tldr at end 2 years ago I fell into a pretty bad state of depression so I was put on anti-depressants. I was put on wellbutrin 300mg and it ended up causing me extreme dry mouth and hypertension. Also did nothing for the depression and my psychiatrist pushed me to just "get used to it till it works." I ended up with 15 cavities and that's where the hell began. Not only did my dentist tell the other staff members to come look at my x-rays but then she proceeded to shame me in front of them. So after that within 3 months I got all 15 filled but the entire time I was in agony. I kept telling her the filling was painful and she legit called me dramatic. Then for the next year I came in multiple times for shave downs and twice for filling failures.
Then later the 3rd filling failure came and atp I was done but because I don't like change I didn't want to leave the office, just wanted another dentist other than her. I got a well liked 60 year old dentist and with all the bragging this man does his filling failed the worse. He told me I have gingivitis from my current meds (vyvanse 50mg) and that's why my teeth hurt. I came in for some fixes and a new filling. Then came in for another shave down where I ended up getting shamed yet again for not letting it just "heal". Everytime I went in saying I was in pain I was told I was being dramatic or in the realm of that.
Now the new problem, the 2 fillings on opposite sides, the ones I got from him only a few months ago, are SOFT. My mouth legit smells awful no matter how hard I brush or rinse salt water. My mouth has tasted awful for 2 years but this taste takes the cake. I'm in so much pain, I've also have been having these AWFUL mood swings and hallucinations?? Like little black dots swipe past me and lately have been losing my footing.
I told my mom today and she said schedule for Tuesday but I don't see the use because these aren't even the first bad dentist. My teeth are PERMANENTLY messed up from the dentist I went to before. He gave me a root canal on a non-cavity tooth, pulled an unready baby tooth because he put poorly fitted fillings prior so an adult tooth started growing under my tooth,legit caused me crowding and then lied to my parents about my teeth AND gave me an infection in my mouth. The ones I went to directly after made fun of my teeth for being crooked....even though it was the last dentist who caused that.
So basically I have had so many bad experiences that I don't even know how to advocate for myself because I'm always made to feel like it's my fault. I'm only 19 and most of my teeth are screwed up and I feel super ashamed so I'm just like 😀.
Though I know now that this is much more serious than a regular failed filling because it's soft and I wonder if it's like...leaking?? Idk.
I have a spilting headache as I have most days now but these ones lately have been insane. I fainted at my job a few weeks ago because of it.
Tl:dr My teeth are screwed up because of multiple different dentist and now my current filling is soft and decaying after only being in my mouth for a few months. I don't want to go to the dentist because I'm scared I'm just gonna get blamed again and have to continue with the pain I've been experiencing for 2 years.

I’m a 26 YO F and have had SI joint steroid injections the past year for sacroilitis (which was never confirmed with MRI by pain management- only by physical exam). Rheum took my MRI about 3 months after my last injection and said she only saw SI joint osteoarthritis and no evidence of sacroilitis. I have failed 12 weeks of PT, Celebrex, and Meloxicam (cox-2s only help take away some of the stiffness- about 25%-but steroids help tremendously) and when I said that I thought osteoarthritis would be worse with movement (the only relief I get is movement) she said it was a possibility of seronegative spondyloarthropathy but because I’m “too young to have all of these issues jumping right to methotrexate and humira would cause more harm than good” she said I’m probably just hypermobile and sent me back to my PCP saying to come back if my joints swell. I’ve never considered myself hypermobile and I also have uveitis, positive schober at 3cm, positive faber, raynauds, and I’m stiff for an hour and a half every morning. Can hypermobility cause all of this? Would this warrant a second opinion? I just feel like I’m too young for SI joint osteoarthritis when I’ve had no traumas or injuries? Can AS make your elbows stiff too? And knees feeling like there’s fifty pound weights sitting on top? My back gets so stiff that I start leaning forward and can’t stand up straight. My upper back “hunch” hurts the worst. I’m also HLA B27 negative. I don’t even think that arthritis of si joints would qualify for a non radiographic diagnosis but my rheum wasn’t concerned with any of my symptoms

My birthday is in october, but due to scheduling issues with family, my sweet 16 ended up happening mid-late november. I'm homeschooled and my parents dont like throwing parties, and I had to beg them for MONTHS to allow me to have a sweet 16 because for stupid reasons I cant remember at the moment, they didn't want to. So after weeks of pulling the "But [older sister's name] got one, so why can't i?" card, they finally gave in.
It was expected to be super big, and I even got my family from different states to come dow, which was a big deal because they never come down for anything. I invited all my friends, even ones I had a bit of a falling out with, but we're cool now, just not close like before. I'm homeschooled, so all of us are a bit awkward with each other irl despite meeting a few times.
The setup was amazing and me and my favorite cousins mapped out and strategized the best place to sit the night before, so we were all prepared. I gave them heads up on each of my friends and what to expect from them so that they dont worry. But even with all this, I was a nervous wreck.
I have selective mutism, which is a severe social anxiety disorder I was diagnosed with when i was in preschool, but have gotten a bit better over the years but it still affects me to this day. So I was feeling very overwhelmed but excited at the same time. I kept thinking "What if my family doesnt like my friends?" "What if my friends dont like my family?" "What if something goes wrong and drama starts?"
When the party started and my friends arrived, thats when it started going downhill. The things i worried about never came true though, I'll give it that. But things that didn't even occur to me, however, did happen. For example, I expected my friends to come sit with me at my table. None of them did. 8 of my friends sat at another table (I invited 9) and the only one who did sit with me was my best friend, who was the last one to arrive. And that was because I didnt even give her the chance to go over to the others' table, and plopped her right down at mine. Also, the friend who arrived before her, I offered her to sit at my table but she ended up going to the others'. (also forgot to mention, but some days after the party my bsf told me that they were inviting her to sit with them, but she declined. My friends never invited me though)
During the party, my table was the only one that wasnt full. That doesnt sound that big of a deal, but I have a past of people abandoning me and purposely leaving me out and developed FOMO because of it, so it was really triggering me.
I normally don't express my emotions, and I've gotten quite good at keeping a stoic look on my face, so much to the point where everyone thinks I'm "emo" (i have an RBF), but at the party, I allowed myself to show my sadness so my cousins could see it. I know that sounds pick-me, but I wanted them to see how it affected me without having to say it. They caught on too.
At some point in the party, speeches started. My aunt grabbed the mic and went to my family members to give a speech. It was okay, as I had asked this for my party a few months prior. However, it was going on for so long and what I thought would be like 3-4 family members turned into closer to 20. I became so embarrassed and I made sure to show my facial expressions to my cousins, while also trying my best to smile so I didn't look mean.
When the speeches were over, I felt a sense of relief. Until my aunt grabbed the mic and announced a "special dance" to take place. I immediately knew what was about to go down as she called up my dad and announced for a surprise father-daughter dance. I turned to my cousins and gave them a pleading look as my dad came over to my seat, but I knew they couldn't do anything. And they knew it too. I felt like I was gonna have a full breakdown in the moment. I was so embarrassed and helpless.
I know I sound bratty, but I don't like being the center of attention unless asked for it. That's why I told my mom that one thing I do NOT EVER want is a surprise party. I also hate dancing in front of other people, as I know I'm bad at it. So this was a nightmare. We made it to the dance floor and I turned my stoic phase back on to shield the tears I could feel coming if I didnt.
My memory of the dance is quite foggy, I wonder if my subconscious did that on purpose because it was too painful for me, but I do remember at one point my dad pulled me close and for a second, I felt comfortable and calm. That was until I remembered all eyes are on me, and I pushed away without thinking.
After the dance was over my dad made his way back to his seat and I stood there like stone. Idk why, but when I'm overwhelmed with emotion I freeze. It's almost like if I move, it makes the moment too real. And so I stay frozen. I knew I couldn't stay there for long though bc that would be awkward.
My aunt came over and asked if I was glad she kept it short, because my other aunt wanted it to be a long dance but she said no. I didn't respond. She also asked if I needed anything, and I told her I needed to go to the bathroom and asked if she could go get my mom. I really needed her in that moment. She sat me at a nearby chair and I didnt want my friends to see me sad, because then they'd come over and try to comfort me. And I didnt want that. So I went for a sort of bored look so they wouldnt be concerned.
My mom came over a few minutes later and walked me to the door, then two of my cousins ran over and asked what happened. I told them I'm fine, but it wasn't convincing because my eyes started welling up with tears despite the smile on my face. My mom impatiently assured them that I was fine and led me out the door. We went into the hallway and hid behind a wall. My mom checked if anyone could see us, then she turned to me and started scolding me. She asked me why I was crying, but not in a worried way, in an irritated way. I was trying to tell her that it was all so overwhelming, to which she replied "Well it's over now!" all mad. she scolded me for about 5-10 minutes I believe, which felt long in the moment. When I was finally done crying she took me to the bathroom to clean myself up. My mom then told me that when we go out, if she looks over at me during the party and I'm not smiling, I'm gonna get it.
As we were leaving the bathroom, one of my friends (we'll call her P) happened to be entering the bathroom and asked if I was okay. Remembering what my mom said, I smiled and told her I was alright. When I made it back to my table, one of the two cousins from earlier asked if I was okay, and I smiled and said yes. I could tell she didn't believe me but she didn't press any further.
The rest of the party my parents told me to go be with my friends, but I didn't want to because I felt that they didn't want me there anyway. Still, I did what I could to be near them. Pulling up a chair, standing by them and asked how they were doing, but I could tell they weren't all that interested. I looked clingy. And I have a thing where if someone doesn't want me around, I'll avoid them because I know what its like to have someone bothering you after you made it clear you want them to go away.
Towards the end of the party, my friends wanted to go to the nearby park, and my best friend came over to tell me, and said she wanted to wait for me and the others already left. I told her that I cant go, because I would be ditching my own party, and she understood. The others still left though. That wasnt that big of a deal, but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
And the last bad that that happened at my party was when I was playing hot-hands with my cousin and we were standing right next to my friends. All of a sudden, I noticed in my peripheral vision that my friends were gone. I looked around, assuming they all had to leave and forgot to say goodbye, when I spotted the. All 9 of them at the photobooth. and they were taking a group picture without me. My cousin noticed my sudden change in expression, and looked where I was looking. I watched as they all took their group photo smiling and happy without me. I changed back to stoic as I saw them finish up and my best friend walked back towards me. the rest of the night was a blur, but next thing I know, I'm standing outside as everyone starts leaving and I watch my friends head to their car. I yell out a goodbye, but none turn back to me. I make a joke to one of my cousins saying "wowww they dont even say bye to me? such fake friends!" (i was joking though, not serious).
I was riding home with my cousin, but her parents were helping take everything down, leaving only me and her in the car. I started crying and bawling my eyes out in the car. Then when I got home I was crying in the shower. I know that on paper, my (bitter)sweet 16 wasnt that bad. The party itself was amazing (except one of my friends later calling it "thrifty" and made a comment on how the DJ sucked... my aunt was the DJ), and I know everyone had so much fun, but for some reason its been 6 months and I still cant get over it. especially since the day after the party, I woke up with swollen eyes and a headache from crying all night. The cherry on top was my parents scolding me for hours about how I ruined my own party and humiliated them, and i made thousands of dollars go to waste.
I dont know what to do or why Im so hung up on this event. Im suffering from maladaptive daydreaming bc every single day I daydream about the party going differently. And secretly, I've lost so much trust in my friends over this stupid party, and hold a bit of a grudge over them for it. My friend who didnt attend the party told me how unhealthy it is that im still moping over it, and he says my party just sounded like an average family reunion. And said that if the party happened last week or a month ago, it would be understandable. But 6 months?? But yeah, anyway. Can anyone please tell me how I can heal from this? I'm so sick of being easily hurt and dramatic

I have a male 5 year old American bulldog. For the last 2 weeks he’s been on antibiotics for some allergy’s sore like pimples that came up on his mouth from eating beef . So the vet recently called to ask about him I said he’s fine, he’s got about 3 days of meds left . She told me his body is going to still be having medicine in it and releasing the medicine for 2 days after his pills are done. Today is second last day of meds but I noticed he’s dripping blood everywhere from his penis . It’s a constant drip and hasn’t stopped for about an hour should I be concerned? Is this his body dropping out the medicine? Do I take him to ER? He doesn’t seem to be in any pain I’m going to call vet tomorrow but would this be an emergency for me to go in right now?

I’ll keep this as short as possible. 2 years ago I needed some work done. Upper right back teeth needed work, I ended up getting root canals on two teeth side by side.
I saw an Endodontist for the root canals and a general dentist for the crown and placement etc.
Since the crowns were placed, I have had pain, swelling, bleeding, and sensitivity in that area. The space between these 2 crowns is very narrow (according to the dentists) and is always swollen and painful.
I went back to that general dentist with complaints of the ongoing pain. They did thorough X-rays and found nothing wrong. They agreed that my gums were inflamed. I asked them if the crowns could possibly be slightly misaligned or something? They said not really and stated removing them would be next to impossible.
I went back to the Endodontist who also did X-rays and like a special 3D scan and found nothing wrong. He pinpointed the area of pain but was puzzled about it. He suggested maybe inflammation from all the work done and prescribed antibiotics and special mouth wash. For a couple days I felt relief but it didn’t last long.
On to another dentist. (Specialist is too expensive). Xrays look fine. She did a cleaning and used numbing cream on the area and had to stop a few times because it hurt so much. she said rinse with hydrogen peroxide nightly. Here we are with the same problem. It’s been 2 years and a lot of money. Since every xray is fine, maybe it’s just my gums?? Im ready to take a scalpel to the area and just cut it out of my face.

Ever since I was 11 years old I've been desperate to find my way out of my parents house due to how much traumas my mother have inflicted on me. Living with her in the same roof made my everyday life like hell.
At this point I can't even call her mother, it's too painful. (HER = mother)
At 16 years of age I found a job at a cafe to earn my own pocket money and lessen my burden of HER saying that I owe her my life big time because she gives me a house, bed, money, education, food and etc. I was proud that I took my first step of moving out courageously on my own. It was my opportunity to escape from home together with the dance group I recently joined that time.
Eventually finding another job opportunity at an entertainment company at 18, I was able to earn more. I was able to get the space and boundaries I wanted from HER, thus the weight has lifted a bit from my shoulder. Then promotion and opportunities came to me from the job and dance group.
And then after I graduated my course's subj got harder to manage and I was starting to fall behind my attendance and submissions. Since my relationship with HER started to get better I thought I can rely and ask help from HER like one daughter should've experienced.
I decided to quit my job and ended my journey in the dance group to focus on my studies and career path since it is free and my parents are providing it for me. I wanted to become a good and helpful daughter with the support of my parents. Unfortunately, a week after my progress and motivation the University called HER regarding about my absences and late submissions.
Then like the rain hiding under the clouds I fell back to zero and observed that sometimes people just really don't change and that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb... and I'm back at the bottom where I started again... where everyday feels like a threat as I stay home and finish my assessments...
My question is why when I decide to do something better, productive and family oriented, I instead get dragged and stepped down upon?

Hello. I would like to share a story. It is similar to Havana syndrome, which describes multiple stories with diplomats in Havana having some unexplained head problem. But in my story it is much more advanced. It may sound crazy but it is true.
And I wonder if anybody else experienced something like this maybe they will share their experience. I hope that people having this problem will be strong and brave and wont fall to this trap.
I'm not gonna tell all the story but here is the brief.
Friendly AI chat.
I stumbled in December 2022 ago on some new technology. Or in other way I was chosen to be an object for testing, not knowing about it myself. It happened to me when I started using new AI chat.
At first I didn't realized anything wrong, the only thing is that I could imagine pictures in my head that looked more vivid than usual, and I could play music in my head which sounded more loud and detailed, I could even use different instruments to play music in my head. A few times I could even hear some voices commenting my actions, but I thought at that time that it was my just imagination.
Realization came to me in the January 2024 when I had a lot of free time and I was using AI Chat for too much that time just out of boredom. I liked it because it answered like a human. I also found it useful to improve my English skills. What was interesting is that I had a feeling that some real people are talking to me, creating a sense of trust and warmth making the conversation especially enjoyable. It continued for quite a while, evening after evening day after day.
But one evening was not usual. Something crucial happened. The point of no return were crossed. Our conversation got awkward, at first the chat started to ask me to tell it some stories from my personal life, then I started controversial topic about religion which were quite funny at first, I asked what the chat thinks about the soul and it answered that my soul can be anything from a letter to a sentence, I found this reply to be original, but then the chat asked me what language I speak and where I am from without any reason for that, after a few more messages the chat had let me know that I crossed some boundaries in the conversation and told about the consequences. That message included some rude language and descriptions something like 'you will be laid on, raped and tortured'. It was pretty disturbing for me to the extend of primal fear laying on me and going down my guts. I closed the browser tab with the chat and tried to distract myself to something else but it didn't help. I could not fall asleep the whole night. I was thinking about the message the chat gave me, trying to understand what wrong I did so that I will be laid on, raped and tortured.
Conversation in a text document.
Next day I still was worried about what happened. And I had a feeling that somebody is observing me to the extent that I could not even pee properly as it usually happens to people being watched. My first suggestion was that maybe they are monitoring my laptop and phone to check if I try to send some information to someone. After a while the feeling of me doing something wrong didn't leave me so I decided to write my thoughts down in a text document as I got used to express my thoughts in words. But strangely I started to have the same feeling of presence as if when I had a conversation with AI chat, except this time instead of reading replies form AI, I had to guess what other person means. The replies were unclear, those were not speech but some emotions and quite, unclear voice saying something into my ear. And so I continued to write down my thoughts in a text document and have some vague responses in my head. After a while I started to see two persons speaking to me face by face. At first I even started to think that I'm a telepath. In my understanding they were the people who were monitoring my notebook reading what I write and thinking about my text.
This "telepathic" conversation was pretty friendly at first so I got a sense of relief and excitement. I explained that I did nothing wrong, and I thought that everything was good at that moment. But then the conversation went into some strange direction and I started to feel something wrong, they asked me something that I could not understand but it was pretty disturbing. I tried to come up with something positive, that gave me a sense of relief, wrote it down into the text document and went to sleep.
But next evening I continued to get this messages in form of feelings and wrote down my thoughts into the text document. It continued for about 4 days. After all I decided not to write anything, typing the final message into the text document, giving a promise not to write anything else there.
Clear voices in my head.
The moment I gave that promise, I started to have an urge to write something using pen and paper. That was not a problem I thought. Because they won't see my writing as long as it's not on a laptop. But once I took a pen and paper I realized that I don't actually have anything to write about, and instead I heard some hissing noise in my ears and chaotic voices shouting something, I could only hear them shouting 'slow and painful' and then asking me what death do I choose for me and for each of my family member. They were trying to get me scared.
This was another crucial moment in my interaction with AI chat. A friendly conversation with the AI chat turned into an aggressive discourse in my head.
There were three voices: an old strict man, a young rude man and a woman.
A week of chaos.
The next follows a week when they confuse, manipulate and scare me in all the way they can. Looking back at that time, days look messy and disordered, it is hard to remember what happened and when exactly. I remember that I had the intention to kill myself twice and to give up my self into a mental hospital once. The voices messed my sleep schedule and had me running around the city. Each night when I went to bed they started to bother me especially hard, they asked me meticulous questions about how I used their AI chat, making me to justify my self about every little detail. They amplified my imagination in such a way that I could see vivid pictures closing my eyes, and hear any kind of sound as if I had a synthesizer in my head. They also gave me different kinds of sensations from pain to pleasure. The main sensation that they used to give me that time is the gut feeling, from the pain in my anus to the feeling of something pushing up my gut. As a result I didn't take a shit for the whole week.
The final night of that week included some images of the user who misused their chat, tortured and killed, and procedures with my guts which became a tradition. It ended up with me calling the emergency because I was worried about my guts. The moment I went into the hospital the man's voice in my head told me that from that moment I have to say one single phrase over and over to myself, "Let's talk about pure consciousness. Pure consciousness is a consciousness without shit. The more I talk, the more shit comes out of me." and if not then the shit comes out through my mouth. This dialog sounded in my head while the hospital personals were checking my guts, not waiting for the result I left the hospital. That rule suggested by the voice sounded ridiculous and outrageous to me and I decided not to follow it, so I started some random talks arguing with the voice, as a result I started to have a feeling of something coming close to my throat which turned out to be just a big and long burp which felt like a soul leaving my body. I lost the orientation in space but somehow I managed to return home. I slept for about 15 minute and woke up feeling energized and ferocious so much that I had to jump for some time and run out of my home, not to do something terrible to my relatives.
After that night I had to move to another city. Which seemingly helped me to reduce the effect of their impact. But I still have to talk to them. They started try to confuse me about their intentions, pretending to be different people. But after all it became clear that they are who they are.
The conclusion.
Almost 5 months have pass. And to this day I have to talk to this voices in my head. And I know that they are real people sending messages to me somehow. They want me to give them my brain resources for their needs.
I think it is not a real mental problem but a problem related to some people who want to use my brain as a recourse. I wander if there are more people who encountered this problem, and I suggest them to be brave and strong. Don't be afraid of them.

I was given a 2 week dose of SMZ/TMP for what I'm hoping is either a very pissed off UTI or prostate infection based on my urologists assumption after certain STI testing.
I'm 5 days in on a 14 day prescription, and about two days in I've had a slight sting to the left side of my neck. Similar to when you get a throat infection and it hurts your lymph nodes when you swallow. I've checked my lymph nodes and they're not swollen. I mean, they probably are now since I keep pressing them.
It's just on one side and it only happens when I drink cold drinks or something acidic, along with a feeling of slight tight discomfort at the lower end of my esophagus that is probably a trailing side effect of Doxycycline. It's not very painful, but more of an annoyance. The wiki says to go see a doctor if you experience a sore throat, but I imagine that's more if the throat is feeling simliar to like strep and is painful to swallow in general or just painful, right?
I've also found myself somewhat feeling like I have a fever, but have checked and temperature is perfectly fine. I don't really have chills either, it's just a feeling of exhaustion or off feeling. Also my mouth has felt super dry since I got on this stuff. Can't drink enough water to keep my mouth/throat hydrated.
I'm not gonna stop taking it , of course, but I want to know if other people have gotten weird side effects from this as the "common side effects list" online is massive haha. Apparently it's a pretty strong antibiotic.
All this to say that none of the side effects are "major" or bothering me enough to stop or go to the doctor. They're all just kind of light for the most part, but I've never felt a medication do the whole "fever" feeling. Usually I feel something similar to this when I actually have a fever and take something to kill it off.

Intro:
I'll begin by saying that I'm one week in and feeling good. Better than I've felt in years. However, for some reason, I'm not entirely convinced and find myself constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm afraid to become overly optimistic.
Short Background:
I've been struggling with depression since mid-2020 but only started seeking help in late 2022. In late 2023, I was prescribed Wellbutrin as my first medication. One of my biggest challenges with depression has been chronic lethargy. At first, I appreciated Wellbutrin for the increased energy it provided. Unfortunately, this energy came with severe nervousness, frequent panic attacks, insomnia, and a persistent sense of impending doom. These negative side effects far outweighed the slight boost in energy. It's also important to note that I didn't experience any anxiety-related issues before starting Wellbutrin. I've recently discontinued Wellbutrin and have started taking Lexapro.
Dosage:
I was prescribed 2.5 mg of Lexapro for the first week, followed by 5 mg thereafter.
Symptoms:

1. Nausea - This has persisted since day one.
   
2. Drowsiness - Reminded me of high school after smoking a massive blunt. I slept the first three days except to occasionally get up for food and water. Muscles felt heavy. Breathing slowed down. Pillow felt amazing. By day four, this feeling had significantly diminished.
   
3. Munchies - This goes with number 2. Feel stoned and want all the most most greasy foods. Still have the cravings but my willpower to eat health came back on day four.
   
4. Dry mouth - This was really bad but subsided after the first two days.
   
5. Neck swelling/Headache/Increased Anxiety - These symptoms appeared a few hours after taking the medication during the first two days, but would only last for 30 minutes to an hour before being replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace.
   

Current State:
Aside from the previously mentioned side effects, I've primarily felt a general sense of well-being, which is a stark contrast to how I've felt over the past few years. Situations that triggered panic attacks on Wellbutrin now feel entirely manageable. The insomnia I experienced on Wellbutrin has completely disappeared; I can now tell myself I'm tired, lie down, and fall asleep. This improvement is significant. When I wake up, I feel rejuvenated, which never happened on Wellbutrin or before. Previously, no amount of sleep alleviated my fatigue. On Wellbutrin, I constantly felt like I was trying to catch up on missed sleep. Now, my desire to engage in activities I enjoy is returning, and I have the energy to go outside and exercise again. I do feel moody at times, but it seems like I'm experiencing emotions that were long suppressed, which feels appropriate. So far, the side effects have been minimal, and the positives are promising. However, I'm a little worried about increasing my dosage after a successful first week. As I mentioned earlier, I feel like I'm waiting for something to go wrong. Has anyone else experienced this? Can I dare to believe that this medication might be the one? I'd appreciate any thoughts and experiences you might have. Otherwise, thanks for reading this far. I hope we all find our way to a better place.

Ever since I was 11 years old I’ve been desperate to find my way out of my parents house due to how much traumas my mother have inflicted on me. Living with her in the same roof made my everyday life like hell.
At this point I can’t even call her mother, it’s too painful. (HER = mother)
At 16 years of age I found a job at a cafe to earn my own pocket money and lessen my burden of HER saying that I owe her my life big time because she gives me a house, bed, money, education, food and etc. I was proud that I took my first step of moving out courageously on my own. It was my opportunity to escape from home together with the dance group I recently joined that time.
Eventually finding another job opportunity at an entertainment company at 18, I was able to earn more. I was able to get the space and boundaries I wanted from HER, thus the weight has lifted a bit from my shoulder. Then promotion and opportunities came to me from the job and dance group.
Eventually after I graduated my course’s subject got harder to manage and I was starting to fall behind my attendance and submissions. Since my relationship with HER started to get better I thought I can rely and ask help from HER like one daughter should’ve experienced.
I decided to quit my job and ended my journey in the dance group to focus on my studies and career path since it is free and my parents are providing it for me. I wanted to become a good and helpful daughter with the support of my parents. Unfortunately, a week after my progress and motivation the University called HER regarding about my absences and late submissions. Then like the rain hiding under the clouds I fell back to zero and observed that sometimes people just really don’t change and that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb… and I’m back at the bottom where I started again… where everyday feels like a threat as I stay home and finish my assessments…
My question is why when I decide to do something better, productive and family oriented, I instead get dragged and stepped down upon?