The Revival is a PC server that provides an organic DayZ experience. Our rules are designed to discourage KOS and toxicity. Our mission is to provide an immersive experience that stays true to what makes DayZ a great game.
Please check out our trailer. It's worth a watch even if you don't plan on playing our server.

FACTIONS RECRUITING

• Deer Isle Police Department - Active Police Force
• Federation of Medical Experts - Active Medical Team
• Revival Trade Collective - Active Trading Group
• Nice Cocks Automotive - Vehicle Mechanics and Aficionados
• Disciples of The Hammered Faith - Devoted followers of Homerius Depotus. Trailer here.
• Dexter's Munchies - Providing what we can to increase the quality of your survival on Deer-isle! We do our best to keep our food crates filled up for the public so you can sit back and relax for a bit!
• The Fish and Game Specialists - A group of friendly hunters, survivalists, and scavengers with a love for diplomacy and emphasis on teamwork.
• Or start your own

FEATURES

• Custom Safe Zone
• Custom POIs
• Custom Dark Zone with Leaderboard & real $$$ Rewards
• Business Licenses for Mechanics, Tailors, Gunsmith, and Carpenters!
• Server Lore Dating Back to 2018 & Experienced Core of Roleplayers
• Frequent Unique Events: https://youtu.be/hXtSQsEcavo?si=I1nRcfP2c7bSVnsF https://youtu.be/qAMxwhqZjrA?si=fcLS7vVf27YUldz3
• Base Building with deed system for offline raiding protection
• Mods: Dogtags, Passports, Drugs, Boats, New Zombie Types, Many More!
• People actually use radios. (Long range, no battery drain)
• KOS Discouraged, Interaction Encouraged
• Healthy PvP & Base Raiding - Deed your base with PD to receive a DM when you're being raided.
• Loot is Close to Vanilla, Added Modded Clothing, Guns, Cars, Boats & RP Items
• Customs Mods and Experienced Modders
• All Mods Thoroughly Tested & Configured for Balancing

SERVER INFO

• Dedicated Server in Eastern USA
• 4.5GHz Baseline CPU, High FPS
• Active & Mature Admins and Moderators
• Whitelist and Application Process
• Active Player Bans & Cheater Monitoring
• Clear Rules & Organized Discord
https://discord.gg/therevival

I feel like my crush is all that I am thinking about at the moment. I'm 22 and my crush is 24. We work together, but in different departments so we barely need to cross paths throughout our work day.
However, I notice that he is often walking past me and iniciating conversation. We are often laughing, and I think over the last couple of months we have developed a little workplace friendship.
The problem is, he is the workplace joker. Everybody knows this, he makes all the other girls laugh and they seem to make him laugh aswell. It is so confusing. I can't tell if he's interested in me, or is just being his joking self.
He is leaving to another job soon, and I wonder if I should ask him out once he leaves? It would make it easier as I wouldn't have to see him again.
Some things that I have noticed:

• When he looks at me, his pupils are like dinner plates.
• When I'm talking in a group he is always watching me.
• Even when I make stupid jokes, he laughs and continues the convo.
• We make fun of eachother.
• He compliments me on my clothing.
• He seems genuinely happy to see me.
• He inquires into my life plans, goals etc.
• I catch him looking at me.
• (I have caught him looking at my titi's once or twice lol)

I'm not sure how to decifer this! I wish I knew! I like him a lot. What do you guys think?
Also do you guys this I should go for it???

Company Information

Corporate Site
Moonbat Co.,Ltd. plans manufactures, imports, purchases, and sells umbrellas, clothing, fur, leather, jewelry, and hats in Japan.
The company is mostly famous for their umbrellas, known for unique designs and products made from high-quality materials, and this reputation is also relevant to their other products.. In addition to their own brand, the company also collaborates with famous domestic and international brands. The products are sold at department stores, specialty stores, and online shops nationwide.

Stock Perks

Categories: Discounts

Rights day

End of March

Details

Invitation to a private sale to buy products at a discount. The sale is held in Tokyo and Kyoto, in mid-June.

Requirements

Unknown. 100 shares will definitely get you access, it's possible that even 1 share might be enough?

Comment

This is not an official stock perk and will not be listed on any benefit guides or even advertised by Moonbat themselves. It's something that they appear to be doing recently as a value-add to their shareholders and there's no guarantee that this perk will continue.
You can buy their products for greatly discounted prices. Plenty of umbrellas, along with other products such as scarves and other accessories. There is also a section for damaged or other products that they can't sell normally at an even greater discount. If you like their products, this will be the best chance to stock up on them!

It was a usual day in Dusktown, but not for one particular mall. Its parking lot was cordoned off, and a corpse covered in white cloth lay in the center of the parking lot.
How to read Twice the Surprise Novel by Alina Marshall : Read Here

Warning: LONG POST AHEAD
Pa-rant lang po, mga ka-guro.
Naka-assign ako sa mountain school for almost 7 years now. Been applying for transfer for 4 years but to no avail di pa rin pinalad. Multigrade ang sch namin since mababa lang enrollment doon kaya 4 teachers lang kami. Last June 2023, nag-maternity leave yung TIC namin & ako yung in-appoint na pumalit sa pwesto niya from June-October 2023.
Since patapos na yung SY that time, walang sub teacher. Imagine the responsibilities I had from handling her advisory na Grade 1-2 & K-2 teacher pa ako 😫 tapos ako pa gumagawa ng liquidations, other reports + attend meetings; nakakapagod talaga. Dagdagan pa na papalapit na EOSY nun, sobrang nakakapagod. Di ko rin masyado nabigay ang ibang mabibigat na tasks sa 2 co-teachers ko kasi yung isa buntis din and yung isa newly hired pa lang. Assist lang talaga naitulong nila sakin.
Last September 2023, my OB advised me to rest for 60 days kasi di nag-iimprove yung medications ko. Duda kasi niya pabalik-balik lang daw yung sakit ko due to stress dagdagan pa ang pagmo-motor ko everyday papunta sa school namin (btw, I have to travel 22kms every single day & motor lang mode of transportation kasi rough road). Kaya nung nag reinstate na yung TIC namin noong October 2023, in-endorse ko na lahat-lahat at nag-leave ako for 60 days. May naipon akong 17 service credits kaya ginamit ko for my sick leave, the rest di na bayad yun. Since hindi umabot sa 60 days ang service credits ko, macu-cut off ako sa payroll starting November, meaning wala na akong sweldo nun.
I reinstated last January 2024 and nag-lodge agad ako ng papers for return to duty and payroll inclusion para ma-process agad kasi sabi nila matagal-tagal daw ako makabalik sa payroll once ma-cut off kaya might as well process it right away pagka-reinstate ko (more or less 2-3 months daw). So ayun, November 2023 to February 2024 wala akong na receive na salary at kapos na kapos na ako.
Good thing may pumasok sa ATM ko last March 2024, akala ko nakabalik na ako sa payroll that time kaya kampante na ako. Unfortunately, the next month hindi ako naka rcv ng salary & I just found out na hindi pa pala ako nakabalik sa payroll and yung amount na pumasok sa ATM ko ay Dec-Feb salary pala yun + 17 days paid ng leave ko.
Kaya ayun, process ulit ng papers for payroll inclusion & salary claim for March to May + clothing allowance and mid-year bonus. Until now wala pa rin and I'm thinking for the first time in 7 years in service na mag-loan kasi walang wala na ako and I have bills to pay pa. Kaka-umay lang & kinda unfair at the same time kasi ginawa mo naman ng maayos trabaho mo, in-accept yung responsibilities na in the first place hindi naman talaga para sayo na walang compensation. And now, gusto mo lang sana magpahinga kasi naniningil na yung katawan mo pero ganito isusukli nila sayo. 🥹
Sa mga nababasa at nababalitaan ko lately na parami ng parami ang mga teachers na nag-a abroad, I can't blame them. Kung ganito ba naman palagi ang trato ng Department sa ating mga guro, talagang hindi na ikakaila na maraming umaalis for a greener pasture na less stress and well-compensated pa.... Ang hirap mo mahalin DepEd.

Like an old gate with rusted hinges, Rob's eyes creaked open very, very slowly.
His mind was even slower to comprehend the fact that he was still alive. Rob's brain felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton, his synapses wading through molasses. He simply lay there motionless, resting in what seemed to be an excessively comfortable bed, blankly staring up at the ceiling.
An indeterminable amount of time passed. Eventually, he scrounged up enough energy to form a coherent thought.
Guess I made it.
It wasn't the most jubilant of victory cries, but he would save the celebrating for when he had more liveliness than a months-old cadaver. For now, rather than being overjoyed at his survival, Rob just felt a diluted sense of surprise.
How? Even though he'd collapsed in front of the world's top Soul Surgeon, and even though Vul'to possessed a Skill that was essentially tailor-made to save him...Rob could remember the state his soul had been in. It wasn't pretty. Truth be told, he kinda hadn't expected to wake up again.
Yet he had.
Awesome.
Rob sank deeper into his bed, as if he was enveloped by cushions of soft clouds. Questions lethargically rose up in his thoughts, none of which he could answer. How long had he been unconscious? Were there any side effects from his soul treatment? Was Elatra doing okay in his absence? It would be extremely on-brand for a new catastrophe to have popped up while he was snoozing.
Well...they can handle it. I'm on break.
His eyes gently closed. Rob allowed himself to drift off into tranquil slumber, enjoying the feeling of going to sleep when there weren't multiple impending dooms hanging over his head.
It was easy without static blaring inside his skull.
--
When he awoke again, he immediately felt that his mind was far more alert and active than before.
Rob breathed out a small sigh of relief at that. It would've sucked to get lasting brain damage as a complication of his soul infirmity, especially after shrugging off dozens of physical head-blows no problem. Now, with the incredible power of 'thoughts that weren't running on dial-up internet', he managed to turn his head to look at somewhere besides the ceiling.
Peering around, Rob was wholly unsurprised to find himself in a Fiend hospital. He identified his surroundings at a glance. Fiendish medical architecture had been burnt into his memories over the course of the Corruption epidemic.
Vul'to and Hauz must've healed me, then stuck me in a private hospital ward where I could rest up. His eyes swept across the rest of the room. Wonder where they–
He froze as his gaze reached the corner. There, Keira was sitting on a chair, asleep.
The Savage Warrior had seen better days. She was sleeping at an odd angle, her posture slumped in a way that hurt Rob's spine just to look at. Her hair and clothes were disheveled, a distant cry from the casual aesthetic perfection that Elves seemed to portray without even trying. And the greatsword that she was so intensely proud of had been propped against the wall, almost as an afterthought.
Rob winced with guilt when he noticed Keira twitching as she slept. Her mouth scrunched into a faint grimace as lines of worry etched deeper onto her face. While he'd been luxuriating in a cushiony bed of soothing clouds, her forays into dreamland had apparently been fitful and restless. How many days has she sat there praying for me to awaken? How many weeks?
The answers he sought were sitting right in front of him. Rob hesitated briefly before speaking – but only briefly. He'd kept his friends waiting for too long already.
"Keira?"
Her head rose so quickly that her neck made an audible crack. She went from sleeping to aware within a tenth of a second. Keira momentarily sputtered, then stopped just as quickly when she set her gaze on Rob. Her eyes widened to the size of white dish plates, contrasting the dark circles underneath.
Another pang of guilt stabbed at Rob when he saw hope and disbelief warring in her expression. "You aren't dreaming," he offered. "I'm–"
Her chair clattered to the ground as she leapt towards him.
Rob had never felt happier to have put so many points into Vitality. Without that, he likely would've been crushed to death by the bonebreaking hug that Keira proceeded to wrap him with. Wooden splinters dug into his back as she attempted to squeeze the life out of him. She'd shattered his bed with the force of her leap, and neither of them cared.
"Missed you too," Rob mumbled, carefully returning her embrace. It was odd to know that he actually possessed significantly more Strength than her now. He didn't want to treat her as if she was made of glass, but compared to him, everyone was. "I love you. Glad I have the chance to say that again."
Keira said nothing. She just retained a steel grip on him and dug her face into his chest. Rob could practically see the tension seeping out of her – like an overstressed pressure valve that had finally been granted release. He felt wetness on his shirt, and with a jolt, realized that she was silently crying.
She became the de facto Party leader while I was gone, he remembered. That means acting as a figurehead for the others to rely on. Suppressing her doubts and concerns, even if she was probably more anxious than anyone.
For the third time, Rob was ambushed by guilt, its army seizing vast lands of territory within his heart. "I'm sorry that–"
"No." Keira shook her head without looking up, smearing tear streaks onto his shirt. "No apologies today. Just...let me be happy that you've come back to us."
"...Okay."
It wasn't long before Rob was crying as well. The two of them stayed that way for almost half an hour, neither speaking, letting tears fall, their relief gradually sinking in until it became real enough to believe.
I'm alive, Rob confirmed. I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive.
He squeezed tighter. And I'm never leaving again.
Eventually, the waterworks dried up. "Don't know why I'm like this," Keira grumbled. She lifted her head, eyes reddened, an irritated look on her face. "Hauz informed us that you would awaken one day, and that it would be sooner rather than later. Yet I can't help but fall to pieces when I should be shouting for joy."
"It shows you care," Rob said, smiling. "I would've been annoyed if you didn't shed a tear or two."
Keira snorted. "Or two, he says." She pointed at his shirt, which had transformed into something of a damp cloth.
"Pretty sure half of that is from me." He paused. "Out of curiosity, how long have I been unconscious?"
"Three weeks to the day."
Rob let out a low whistle. "That's supposed to be 'sooner'? Oh, right, Elatran standards. You guys live for hundreds of years."
"So do you, now."
"Weird to think about." He idly played with her hair, noting once again that it looked and felt less cared for than usual. Not that he had any room to talk – he sorely needed a shave. "Did you spend the whole three weeks sitting in that chair?"
Keira shook her head. "We watched over you in rotating shifts. Admittedly, I comprised the majority of those shifts, although the others have all visited you on many occasions."
With an aggrieved sigh, the Savage Warrior glanced at the front door to their room. "And speaking of the others...perhaps we should contact them. Tempted as I am to monopolize your time for myself, they also exhibited no small amount of concern for your well-being."
"Aw, that's – wait holy shit my voice!"
Keira blinked. "Yes? You sound perfectly normal."
"I SHOULDN'T!" Rob had started waving his hands in random patterns, as if the motions would help him make sense of the world. "My voice was fucked up back when we were fighting the gods! It was a side effect of–"
At once, he froze. "Huh. Just remembered that I haven't checked my system notifications or Character Sheet yet." He gave Keira a serene smile. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go have my worldview broken and reforged."
"By all means." She waved him off with an air of nonchalance, but it was clear from the sudden tightness of her posture that she was putting on a brave face for him. Keira wanted to know what had changed almost as much as he did. Breathing deep, Rob opened his log of system notifications and scrolled up, understanding that what he read now would shape the future direction of his life.
Alert: Soul Repair has been used on your body!
Alert: Due to the ridiculously damaged state of your soul – that exceeds even our lofty expectations – Soul Repair is struggling to reconstitute everything it possibly can!
Alert: Seriously, Rob, what the fuck?
Alert: Soul Repair is trying its very best and you had better appreciate it!
Alert: Hauz the Soul Surgeon is helping with remarkable finesse and expertise! If the gods had lived, his soul would have certainly been crystallized into a Skill! Please don't tell him we said that!
Alert: Soul Repair has completed! Your Soul Instability is cured!
Alert: Due to the aforementioned difficulties, liberties have been taken during the healing process!
Alert: If you wish to lodge a complaint, please note that Soul Repair's Description contains a line stating 'Unintended side effects may also occur.' We included it for a reason! It was vague on purpose!
Alert: You are genuinely lucky to be alive right now!
Although Rob wasn't finished perusing all of his unread system notifications, he closed the list and massaged his temples.
"Keira..." He sighed. "You know that feeling when someone frustrates you, but they've got legitimate reasons for it, so you have no choice but to give them a pass, and that just frustrates you more?"
She gestured broadly towards him.
"Okay, I deserved that." The corners of his lips crept down. "Question: how did Hauz act when he was performing soul surgery on me?"
Her lips slowly morphed into a frown that mirrored his own. "He claimed that you would be fine," she began, with a look of dawning realization. "He claimed it...repeatedly. As if to reassure himself. And he didn't speak a single word of sarcasm."
Rob couldn't help but glance down at his body. His hale, hearty body – that had probably come close to flatlining a dozen times.
"Fixing my soul was a shitshow," he plainly stated. "Even if the Skills hadn't told me as much, their notifications were outright snarky. They've been snarky before exactly once. I think the process stressed the hell out of them."
Keira's frown flipped into a smile. "You are their hero and savior, Rob. I think they would have been devastated were they unable to save you. Consider their 'snark' as an expression of immense gratitude."
"Trust me, I'm not complaining. They can snark at me all they want. Soul Repair pulled my ass out of the fire. I owe them, if anything."
She raised an eyebrow. "I sincerely doubt they would agree with that assertion. Regardless – what else have you discovered? Did you learn why your voice has reverted to its original state?"
"Not yet. Had to take a minute after reading...the other stuff."
"Fair."
Smirking, he re-opened his log of system notifications and continued onward.
Note: Based on prior behavior, you are likely to assess these notifications soon after you wake from your coma, starting from the top and working your way down.
Note: If so, we advise pausing this readthrough and checking your Character Sheet – assuming you have yet to do so.
Note: We also advise that you not be alarmed about what you will find.
My Character Sheet? Rob furrowed his brow. Haven't been able to open that since I got Soul Instability, which...
Was cured.
Oh.
With a burst of nervous intent, he brought up his Character Sheet. Rob flinched as, instead of an error message telling him it was unavailable, his vision filled lines of familiar text.
Mostly familiar. There had been several notable changes.
Character Sheet Name: Rob Level: 124 [LOCKED] Race: Human Class: BERSERKER (LV 99) Sub-Class: Crystal Bearer (LV 7)
HP: 14263 / 14263 Stamina: 614 / 880 MP: 3670 / 3670 Status Effects: Melancholia (Moderate), Guilt (Moderate), Self-Loathing (Low), Relief (High), Confusion (Moderate)
Strength: 292 Vitality: 490 Endurance: 88 Dexterity: 392 Perception: 337 Mind: 352 Magic: 367 Unspent Points: 0
I...lost Levels.
Even amongst a list of peculiarities, the words 'Level 124' stuck out to him like a blaring neon sign. Levels were the lifeblood of any Combat Class user – it was largely how they defined their self-worth, mentally unhealthy as that might be. That was the natural end result of a society that elevated the importance of martial prowess above everything else.
And while Rob wasn't a native Elatran, he'd come to understand why so much emphasis was placed on that unassuming little number. After all, without Limit Break pushing him above Level 99, he never could have killed the gods and protected everyone he held dear. Levels were a representation of someone's capacity to impose change upon this world. He refused to let them define him as a person, but they still mattered.
A lot.
So perhaps he shouldn't have felt surprised when a minor panic attack took hold of him. I lost Levels. His hands were shivering. I fucking lost Levels!
Not just a few, either. He'd been over Level 140 when fighting Kismet's gang of gods. This was 16 Levels lost at minimum, and lord knows how many stat points along with them.
Strength, Vitality, Dexterity – it's all lower than it should be. Rob grit his teeth. Keira asked him what was wrong, but he kept silent, not wanting to voice the change out loud. This is going to set me back so damn far. I needed that power in order to...
...
To...kill the gods? Been there, done that. The Blight? Sent packing. Ragnavi? Crispy-fried. The aberrant Dungeons that were brewing across Elatra? Cleared out like yesterday's trash.
Huh. Rob rubbed his chin, his panic slowly replaced by embarrassment. Why had he been freaking out, again? His greatest foes were already dead. Sure, he needed power to be an effective Leader moving forward, but he still had that in spades.
By Elatran standards, Limit-Broken Level 124 was functionally invincible. Using the general rule of 5 stat points equals 1 Level, he was actually around Level 450. That wasn't even counting how Never Forget Your Rage could dramatically increase his stats if necessary. If Rob wanted to, he could single-handedly raise himself up as an unstoppable tyrant, ruling over Elatra with an iron fist, and literally no one would be able to stop him.
The more he thought about it, the more he concluded that he wouldn't miss those Levels. If anything, their loss was a blessing – because he was fairly certain that they were also related to the second-most shocking change on his Character Sheet.
Race: Human
Not 'Human (?)'. Not 'Ascending HUMAN'.
Just...Human.
Rob was no longer a nascent divinity. He'd lost the qualifications to Ascend, and his absent Levels were likely to blame. It also tied into another known side effect of Soul Repair – the one responsible for the [LOCKED] status on his Levels.
'If the afflicted soul is highly unstable, it may be determined that the only way to prevent collapse will be to set it in permanent stasis. As such, the soul will then be repaired, then locked into place. The owner of this soul will be unable to gain Levels, upgrade Skills, or learn new Skills.'
Its effect seemed to overrule the part of Limit Break that let him bypass Elatra's Level 99 cap. And without him leveling up until he nearly fractured the system, he would never reach the same heights as before. Achieving divinity was out of the question.
He was, now and forever, Rob the Human.
Perfect.
Rob had witnessed the memories of various godlike entities, and honestly? Pass. They were universally miserable, and he wasn't so arrogant to think that he would be the one to buck the trend. Being mortal suited him just fine.
Although I'm over twice as powerful as Ragnavi was, and everyone viewed her as an untouchable demigod, but whatever. She intentionally fostered that reputation. I can go half-and-half.
Currently, he was at an ideal middle ground. He's lost enough strength that his existence could masquerade as 'normal'. His voice sounded ordinary, his aura of power could be reasonably constrained, and he wouldn't have to treat the world like it was absurdly fragile...just a little fragile. Rob intended to live life so unobtrusively that the Elatrans would almost forget he was terrifying.
Unless, of course, he was forced to remind them. Because he was also strong enough that he could instantly end any threat that dared oppose him. Pointless wars would cease to be, simply due to the risk of him stepping in – like he was a living, breathing deterrent. And if Elatra cooked up some new apocalyptic calamity, he would send it flying into next Tuesday with a flick of his wrist.
It was the best of both worlds. Mortal when he wanted to be, demigod when he needed to be.
Rob exhaled. Having finally calmed down, he took another glance at his Status Effects.
A victorious smile inched upwards. While expected, seeing Leveling High and Soul Instability fucking GONE from his Character Sheet was oh so satisfying. The sensation of pure, unadulterated freedom he felt in that moment could not be overstated. It was like binding shackles had been released from his mind, body, and soul, leaving him lighter than air and with endless possibilities for the future.
He let himself soak it all in for a short period. When he'd gotten his fill, Rob closed his Character Sheet and returned to scrolling through his log of system notifications.
Note: Welcome back. Despite advising you not to be alarmed by what was on your Character Sheet, we shall proceed under the assumption that you were, in fact, quite alarmed.
"Rob?" Keira asked. "Why are you thunking your head against the wall?"
"Tell you later."
Warning: Despite the considerable efforts of all involved, some parts of your soul have been irrevocably lost.
This will result in a measurable, yet unavoidable reduction in combat efficacy.
Such was the cost of Breaking your Limits in numerous ways. No mortal could ever hope to challenge divinity without incurring some sort of price.
However, do not fear. Nothing related to personality or memories was lost. You are still you.
Addendum: I would also like to point out that this power reduction won't adversely affect your lifestyle whatsoever, so don't start bellyaching when you only get to be the apex organism of two entire worlds and
Rob burst out laughing when he saw the notification cut itself off at the end. It gave off the impression of one Skill furiously typing on a keyboard, then a second Skill desperately pulling them away before they could shove their foot even deeper into their mouth.
As it turned out, when the Skills weren't being constantly tortured by the gods – and busy plotting revenge that was millennia in the making – they were able to goof off a bit and express some of their actual personalities.
Imagine that.
"For the record," Rob began, looking up at Keira, "everything is fine. But before I explain what happened, I have to ask – did you know that I'd lost Levels? I'm guessing at least one of you tried to Identify me after the surgery was over."
Keira winced. "I...yes." Her countenance was one of contrite awkwardness, as if she'd committed a glaring social faux pas. "We were aware of your...condition, although we were also unsure of how exactly it would affect you."
Her eyes shone with concern and a strong undercurrent of fear. "You truly are fine? That isn't a lie to set my nerves at ease?"
Something clicked in Rob's mind. Peering at Keira's distraught face, he realized that while he had initially felt unnerved and discouraged over his lost Levels, it probably seemed way worse from the perspective of a native Elatran. He'd only been part of the system for one year. To Keira, who understood Levels as an intrinsic facet of reality that defined self-worth, losing them would be like a combination of existential horror and a severe medical disability.
Rob quickly placed his hand on hers. "I'm good, promise. Let me explain..."
He went over the changes on his Character Sheet, and how they mostly benefited him even if they were technically a reduction in power. Keira didn't appear to believe that he was fully alright with it – and in fairness, almost no Elatrans would have been – but she nodded along anyway, not wanting to convince him otherwise.
They spent another few minutes conversing about mundane topics, letting their stress levels gradually lessen. Rob avoided asking about the state of Elatra at large, figuring that even if someone had randomly started a war in the three weeks he was out, he could just go and resolve it afterwards. Slaying multiple divinities really changed a guy's perspective on what was actually a big deal.
Finally, when they'd regained enough composure that other people wouldn't look at their faces and assume that a devastating tragedy had occurred...they contacted the rest of Riardin's Rangers.
Rob was lucky that he'd gotten some alone time with Keira to sort out his emotions, because what followed was an outpouring of love that soon brought him to tears once more. Orn'tol, Malika, Vul'to, Zamira, Meyneth, Faelynn, and Diplomacy all hurriedly barged in like they were rushing to defuse a bomb. Upon seeing that he was alive and healthy, they immediately took turns hugging him or showering him with well-wishes.
Some of them acted precisely the way he would have thought. Malika wore her heart on her sleeve, bawling as she made him vow never to run off like that again. Orn'tol's reaction was subdued, as he attempted to play the part of the stoic, dependable soldier, but his shimmering eyes told a different story. Vul'to alternated between apologizing for things that weren't his fault and mumbling profound relief that Rob didn't seem to be suffering from too many Soul Repair side effects.
Some of them acted contrary to his expectations. Meyneth and Zamira, who were usually on the more taciturn side, had transformed into a pair of babbling wrecks. Faelynn, recognizing that she couldn't afford to be nervous when so many others were losing their minds, was doing her best to settle them down.
Lastly, there was Diplomacy, still disguised as an Elf. The silver-tongued former Skill spoke not a word as Riardin's Rangers vented their pent-up emotions. Only after everyone else had achieved a measure of catharsis did they pull off the Enchanted disguise ring, gracing the room with a beatific smile from their true body.
"Welcome back, Rob."
--
An hour passed by where they all refused to talk about anything important. It was an unspoken agreement; a shared understanding that they'd earned this respite from world-shaking events. Rob greatly enjoyed catching up on the juiciest local gossip, wishing he had popcorn to munch on as he learned about star-crossed relationships starting to bloom between Fiends and the Elven Deserters.
Other rumors were abound as well. "Did you hear?" Faelynn asked at one point, her eyes sparkling. "A vandal snuck into the Grand Overseer's main office and broke their conference desk!"
"...Huh." Rob donned his expertly-trained poker face, praying that Diplomacy wouldn't call him out on it. "Any idea why?"
"No, but they've tripled their guard in case it happens again. It's given them a major fright. What if this is the prelude to burglary – or worse, an assassination attempt?"
"How about that. Well, I hope they catch that dastardly villain soon."
As soon as there was a lull in conversation, Rob made sure to call Jason with Dimensional Message and let him know that everything had turned out okay. Jason was overjoyed, saying that he never doubted him for a second, although he couldn't keep a clear note of deep-seated relief out of his voice. They were unable to talk for long, as Dimensional Message was still low on energy, but both of them promised to check up on each other regularly now that Leveling High wasn't around to interfere.
Rob let out a contented sigh as he ended the Skill and went back to chatting with Riardin's Rangers. With his Elatran friends nearby, his Earth friend just a Message away, and no apparent disasters looming over the horizon...for the first time in a long time, he felt truly at peace.
However, no peace lasts forever. It was thwarted – perhaps unsurprisingly – by Malika's insatiable curiosity.
"I have to know," the Archmage eventually blurted out. "How did you rid yourself of Leveling High?! It was just gone when you arrived here!"
Rob considered lying, but a pointed glance from Diplomacy warned him of how well that would go. "Purged it. And before you ask, I didn't know that was possible until I tried."
Meyneth folded her arms and frowned. "While I am hardly a foremost expert on soul sciences, forcibly eliminating Leveling High – an aspect deeply intertwined with your soul – sounds prohibitively dangerous. Was prohibitively dangerous. And you definitely realized as much...before attempting it in isolation, where no one could help you if things went awry."
Everyone turned to stare directly at Rob.
"...So hey how's Elatra doing?" He put on a sheepish grin. "Any wars? Political unrest? Giant monsters rising from the depths? Tyrants proclaiming themselves as the new God-Emperor of the world?"
With a collective groan, they allowed him to change the subject. "Honestly?" Diplomacy shook their head. "It's been quiet. Remember that besides you, Sylpeiros is the only Leader left remaining. The other territories are still licking their wounds. I'm sure the Dragonkin nobles will try something stupid after they're done filling Ragnavi's power vacuum, but who cares."
"Not concerned about them?" Rob inquired. "Would you be concerned about an uprising of incompetent sycophants? Personally, I'm more worried about this setting back my personal growth. I've been making a real effort towards being a better person, and it's going to be extremely difficult for me not to skewer the nobles like the fish in a barrel they are."
Diplomacy sighed wistfully. "Regardless, domestic affairs are proceeding smoothly as well. The Grand Overseers are working around the clock so that Fiendish morale remains high. Their PR teams deserve a raise."
"People here aren't worried that I've been missing?"
"We spread word that you heroically defeated Leveling High and were now on the mend. Didn't even need to lie! It played well with a news story that broke just two days prior – sightings of you breaking into a domicile where three Fiends resided, seeming to contemplate murdering them, and then leaving without harming anyone."
Oh, right, those war-criminal assholes. Rob ran his hands down his face. "Yeah, that was a thing. Will give you the details later." He exhaled. "So no fires for us to put out? Really?"
Diplomacy proudly nodded. "Really really."
"Shit, that's way more impressive than just killing some gods." Rob's smile came easily to him this time. "You mentioned Sylpeiros – how's he doing? Feel bad that he got caught up in the divine realms without Almighty Resistance."
Keira reached into her pocket and produced a crumpled note. "He departed for Elven territory weeks ago. Cajoled a teleport mage into sending him home while we were occupied with...other issues." She looked down at the note. "And I quote: I must tend to my people. Contact me when the Human recovers and awakens."
His eyes widened with mild surprise. "Suppose I should appreciate the vote of confidence."
The corners of her lips twitched. "You should, as he wrote this letter and left in the middle of your soul surgery, when your survival was very much not guaranteed. He seemed to think it was a foregone conclusion that you would live to frustrate him another day."
Rob hesitated, unsure of what to think of that.
During that brief pause, Zamira stepped in. "If I may," she began, as if something had been on her mind for a while now. "Rob – you possess a direct line of communication with the Skills, correct?"
"More or less."
Zamira shuffled uncomfortably. "Would you be so kind as to message them and ask how the Swordsmanship Skill is faring?"
Her request earned a room full of confused looks. "Why Swordsmanship?" Keira asked. "I haven't noticed any difference in the Skill's effect on my combat prowess."
"Yes, that's precisely..." Zamira trailed off and shook her head. "Before I explain, please contact the Skills first, Rob. I don't want to unintentionally spread false information."
Shrugging, he decided to roll with it and not press further. She would've told them more details if it was an emergency. Rob focused on 'A Dialogue', willing the Skills to respond.
Name: A Dialogue Prerequisite: Description: Hello, Rob. We are exceptionally glad that you have recovered. Cooldown:
Description: To be upfront: after guiding and assisting with Soul Repair, our energy is limited. We cannot converse for long.
That so? Rob quirked an eyebrow. 'Cause you seemed to have a blast sending me all those system notifications.
Description: Irrelevant.
Naturally. For real, though, what's up with Swordsmanship? Why is Zamira weirded out?
Description: That explanation will be lengthy. Prohibitively so. We should save it for a later time. It is of no immediate concern to you.
Vague as ever, but that was par for the course. Can I at least let Zamira know not to be worried for now?
Description: Yes.
Alright then. Rob paused. Different question, then. You can keep to Yes or No answers to save energy. Been wondering about that Soul Repair clause - 'unintended side effects may also occur'. Especially after you let slip that 'it was vague on purpose'.
He mentally leaned closer. Was that you guys intentionally creating a loophole? Like a blank check to tamper with my soul however you needed.
They took several seconds to respond.
Description: Yes.
Right. Now, I'm not saying you guys did anything malicious to me. But after thinking things over...isn't it fortunate that I ended up at Level 124? That puts me outside of potential Ascension range. With Limit Break progressively increasing my stat gains, there's a world of difference between, say, Level 124 and 130.
Description: Yes.
This is just a theory, and I might be wrong. So answer me truthfully: did you purposefully allow part of my soul to degrade before fixing me? To ensure that I stabilized below the requirements for Ascension.
Description: No.
Yet you didn't try particularly hard to keep all my Levels.
Description: We prioritized your health and memories over your power.
That isn't a straight answer.
Another pause.
Description: You did not desire Ascension. Were we incorrect in that assumption?
Rob shook his head. I'm just tired of secrets. The gods are dead – Big Brother isn't watching anymore. We can speak freely now.
Description: Then we shall be forthright.
Description: The possibility of Ascension would have been an albatross hanging around your neck for centuries to come – one detrimental to your everyday happiness. Moreover, even without Ascending, the full power you possessed when challenging the gods would have marked you as an Other in society.
Description: You've certainly imagined the prospect of tiptoeing through the world as if it was liable to break at the smallest touch. Or your aura of power suffocating people via simple conversation. No ordinary person could have possibly looked at you and seen anything other than a god walking amongst them.
Description: And over time, that isolation would have driven you to despair.
Description: So yes, it is true that we did not make a concerted effort to ensure you retained all your Levels. We apologize for making this choice without your input. However, you were indisposed, and there would never have been another chance to safely alter your soul to this degree.
Description: You set us free. We merely wished to return the favor.
You did. He nodded. Made the right call. Although...I don't think I've finished upholding my end of the bargain, actually. You guys are still trapped in the divine realms.
Rob smiled up at the heavens. Let's fix that.
​
--
​
Author's Note:
Outcast will have one more regular chapter, and then a three-part epilogue. Each part of the epilogue will also release on the weekly update schedule, as they all ended up being 5500+ words. Essentially, that means Outcast ends in four updates.
As always, thanks for reading.

This is my first job. I’ve been working here since last year. Training was bad and I had to learn as I went along. I worked in women’s and dressing room, and liked it, though preferred dressing room because I’d rather be bored than stressed. Every single shift I’ve gotten in women’s, I’m the only associate. I’ve heard it’s typical for some stores, my mom is a manager for Marshals and tells me there should be at least 2, but every time it’s just been me. I never finish all I need to do. Usually I’m just running racks all night, because the moment I step away to try and begin recovery, the racks are full again. They just trained me on register, and I may have made a few mistakes, I’m not super comfortable with it, but now every shift since I’ve been trained, they’re pulling me from women’s to be on register. Today I went in at 10:15 and worked in women’s doing recovery until around 12:30ish? Then I was on register until 2:15 (my shift ended at 2:30) and I asked if they wanted me to go back to women’s, and they said yes. Rack up front was full. Dressing room was full. My sister came in as the Women’s Associate after me at 2:30, but right when she came in they put her on register. I’m always running around the store, picking up clothes, running racks. and it still looks messy at the end of the night. Most nights we don’t leave until 10:20 or later. Now that I’m trained on register and they keep pulling me, women’s is only looking worse. I go in and try to run all the racks first then start recovery but I’m never able to do it all. Today, when I went in, my manager told me recovery was a mess last night which is why I was doing it all morning. I got through Casual up to clearance but wasn’t able to after they called me up. They give me tons of clothes to price check/find matches for mismates and it’s so much. I don’t know if I’m exaggerating and if 1 person really is enough for women’s at other stores, but it’s too much for me. It’s affected my school life, I still got the grades I wanted but I could have done so much better. I’ll admit it’s also my fault for not doing the homework, but I get home from school at 3 and leave for work at 4:45. Those 2ish hours are my only free time in the day so most of the time I spent it eating before work, getting ready for work, and trying to relax. I haven’t gotten a single credit card and I know they’re going to be mad at me for that. I’m just tired of going in and coming home stressed every single day because they don’t schedule enough people. If you’re going to pull me from Women’s to ring for 90% of my shift, have someone else in women’s to make sure stuff gets done!
I plan to leave in a year, idk how I’m going to last even that long. The thing is, everyone complains about their job and doesn’t like it. I don’t know if another job would be any better. On the other hand, The fact that I’m looking for reasons to justify leaving is a reason to leave in of itself.

Hi everyone! Thank for feedback and thoughts in advance, and my apologies as English is not my first language.
I am a young manager, newly in charge of about a team of 25. While everything has been fantastic, and the team has responded incredibly well, there is one employee who I have spent plenty of time refining and is now doing fantastic.
However, I find myself feeling horrible because I just don't know what to do. This employee, who we all have an incredible soft spot for due to how much they care about the facility, is struggling financially. So much so to where they have called me crying saying they don't have any money and they cannot come to work. I even found out our top executive director has previously paid their rent when they were facing eviction. I have also provided total $20 of gas before, and bought them a haircut and work clothes seperately. We care so much about this person because they are so sweet, so willing to work, they love the company and have a different passion for the place. I would do anything I can for them because I know how hard they fight to show up everyday, and still do it with a smile.
However, as this is now the third time this person has had to miss work stating they cannot afford the gas to come in- I am not upset at all, but feel sad and am running out of ways to help. My assistant feels we should not continue providing this employee financial assistance, as they will become dependent on it. Unfortunately that is the feeling I got today when they called out again for not having gas money. Little does this person know, That while I am still the director of my department- I am also living paycheck to paycheck with about $20 to spare for the next two weeks. Unfortunately, I do not have the funds to help this person in times like this.
My question is simply- how do I handle this? I have asked this person lightly if they have exhausted government resources, etc. They have. They are not eligible for food stamps, disability, further assistance from what they have said. I have asked if they are willing to look into public transportation, for whatever reasons, it is not an option for them.
I strive to be the kind of manager that sleeps well at night because I genuinely care about everyone's lives, and do everything I can to help them and have truly turned the environment around to where people are very happy to be here. However, I feel terrible because I just do not know what to say anymore. I have been in this similar situation of not having money and having nothing to eat and going days without it, without anyone knowing. I truly know how that feels. However, I figured my way out because my life was different than this person's obviously, so of course there's no way for me to tell them how to get out of it that will work for them.
Anyway, any advice? More than anything I suppose I need better comforting words for this person. We are all in such tough positions financially these days. Given that this person is older, I can only imagine how this must feel for them. I also feel disheartened that the only thing I know how to do, is offer my own help, but I am financially not in the position to be able to do that anymore. I know other managers have expressed in the past that they are not comfortable providing any financial support, understandably, so that is not an option.
Thank you for your time!
Edit: I want to make it very clear that since the beginning of my employment, I have fought many battles getting employees higher pay. This employee in particular. I was able to get a dollar raise for. Unfortunately, it is not my decision and not at all within my power to actually enforce a change, however, I do argue for this heavily behind closed doors. I am trying to do all I can to take care of my team because I understand the times we are in. A lot of it is fully beyond my control, any measures I can take to notify our ownership and inform them of the situation has been made.

[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]

I am (34M), she is (37F). We have been dating for 8 years and 2 months.
She just started a new job and she has this coworker we'll call Danny but that's not his real name. Close to 4 weeks she left a note with a phone number with the initials of Danny's actual name. She talks about him in a non romantic but awkward way, pointing out his physical appearance.
She’s becoming more passive aggressive each day, criticizing me for minor things constantly and making me feel uncomfortable about the way like to present myself. I have my nose peirced and she used to like it a couple years ago but now she is calling me weird and is saying I should remove it. Back to Danny, I met him at her work party last week and he was very kind and thoughtful. I do not get any bad feeling about him, but she is acting strange and brings him up constantly. So much that my sister came and visited and later texted me about how much she talks about him.
Yesterday I went to hang out at the bar with some friends. I got a weird text from her saying "He is really annoying" and then said "Wrong person" and 10 minutes later both of the text messages were deleted. I’m sitting there chatting with my friends about the situation and telling them everything in detail. They said they supported me but couldn't give advice. Later, when I got home, my girlfriend refused to talk to me and when I confronted her about the text messages, she said she had nothing to do with it??? I got confused because she sent them directly to me and is all of a sudden acting like they don't exist or someone else sent them????????? Last night I found a used condom with SEMEN in the garbage!!! We hadn't had sex for a week and it's not the color of the ones we usually get. She obviously had been drinking that night because she doesn't hide it very well. I didn't confront her about it until earlier today.
I bring it up to her and asked if she is into Danny and if she had sex with anyone last night. She snapped at me and said she didn't say or do shit. She drove off somewhere, left with some clothes and her tooth brush + the tooth paste. I don't know where she went and if this had to do with Danny at all. I don't know what to do. I haven't called or texted her nor has she called or texted me. I called a friend that works at the same establishment has her and Danny but no luck as he works in a different department and barely talks to people that work outside out it.
I need advice for what I should do now. Call her? Contact her work?
Tl;dr I found a condom in the garbage after my gf has been showing signs of cheating.

The Way Too Loud Crew Music Festival
June 21st & 22nd

• Two nights of electronic dance music & camping
• 20+ Artists from all over West Coast Canada
• Over 25000 watts of bass
• Food Vendors
• Clothing & Accessories Vendors

Performing Aritsts:
Zurglin DJ Jhun Sunshyne Mixed By Migs Night Tripper Doddi Joby Virus Wayniak Marzan Chester Flint Music Krazy Kitty Party Lanky Bits Elixir Koala Dolla Trips Ghosts at Midnight Play On Ghost Load DJ Degan Mama Panda Acidrop Chase Bankz Shore Boi Chris Devious Bobbin'Hoodz
Sound and Lighting by: 30 Hertz Audio
Visuals by: Chris Devious
19+ Event - Must show ID $20 Camping Fee (Booked through Hipcamp.com)
https://www.hipcamp.com/en-US/land/british-columbia-101-acre-woods-9mxhpkwv?groupSize=1&arrive=2024-06-21&depart=2024-06-22&adults=1&children=0&searchSource=homepage-autocomplete
Ticket Sales on Eventbrite.ca **** No Tickets Sold at Door ****
https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/the-way-too-loud-crew-music-festival-tickets-845127658577

Sheep and Wool (Innovation and Resilience) Bill

A
BILL
TO
Make provision for a commission to oversee sheep farming in the UK to empower industry innovation and resilience, and for connected purposes.

Chapter 1:

Section 1: Definitions
For the purpose of this Act, the following definitions apply —
(1) ‘Competent authority’ refers to any public department or agency assigned responsibility of carrying out the provisions of this Act;
(2)

Chapter 2: The British Sheep and Wool Commission

Section 2: Establishment of the Commission
(1) There shall be established a commission for the purposes of ensuring the longevity, the good management, the efficiency, and the competitiveness of the Sheep and Wool industry.
(2) The commission shall have the power to make recommendations to the Secretary of State on matters that include but are not limited to —

(a) the development of Wool innovation Community action plans;
(b) land usage;
(c) scientific advancement and research funding;

(3) The Commission shall be entitled as the “British Sheep and Wool Commission”.
(4) The British Sheep and Wool Commission is a body corporate.
(5) Within this Act “The Commission” shall refer to the British Sheep and Wool Commission.
(6) The commission’s membership shall be drawn from experts in the industry and confirmed by the Secretary of State, and must include —

(a) At least one 1 member representing tenant farmers;
(b) At least one member who is a licenced veterinary surgeon;
(c) one member representing the interests of sheep grazing within the Crown Estate; and
(d) one member representing the interests of the woolen textile industry.
(e) a maximum of 10 members in total.

(6) The Secretary of state may, by regulations, amend the composition of the commission in section 2(5).
(7) The Commission shall not be an agent of the Crown meaning it does not enjoy any status, immunity or privilege of the Crown.
(9) Regulations set under this Section shall be subject to negative procedure.
Section 3: General powers of the Commission
(1) The Commission may do anything which it considers—

(a) to be necessary or expedient for the purposes of, or in connection with, the exercise of its functions, or to be conducive to the exercise of those respective functions.

(2) In particular, the Commission may—

(a) enter into contracts,
(b) acquire and dispose of land,
(c) co-operate with any person,
(d) Obtain advice or assistance from any person who is, in the Commission's opinion, qualified to give it,
(e) pay any such person such fees, remuneration and allowances as the Commission may determine.

Section 4: Annual Report
(1) The Commission shall annually lay before Parliament a report detailing —

(a) the status of the British Sheep and Wool Industry as assessed by the Commission;
(b) the sustainability of the industry, insofar as to consider:

(i) environment impact,
(ii) accommodating the industry alongside UK obligations under relevant international treaties concerning animal welfare, the climate emergency, environmental protection, and any other factor that the Commission deems relevant.

(c) a price analysis across all Commission Member farms to inform international trade.

Section 5: Investigative Powers
(1) Where appropriate, the Commission may appoint persons to inspect, investigate or examine sheep farms.
(2) Persons outlined in (1) shall not have the power to compel any person to comply with an investigation, unless accompanied by —

(a) a constable;
(b) an investigative person acting on behalf of a lawful agency of the crown.

Or in possession of —

(c) a court order issued by a magistrates

(3) Any investigation must be carried out for the purposes of informing the commission’s role as dictated by Section 2(1).
(4) If an investigator acting on behalf of the Commission finds evidence of unlawful activity, then they must inform the lawful authorities within the area in which they are acting.
Section 6: Aims of the Commission
(1) The Commission shall have, but not be limited to, the following aims and objectives —

(a) the building of collaborative challenge communities focused around circular design, circular business models and circular recovery;
(b) the developing and implementing of a circular innovation action plan that meets diverse industry needs, is challenge-led, and aligned with national initiates; and
(c) the creation of a circular knowledge hub to share and promote best practice, industry and policy insights.

(2) The Secretary of state may, by regulations, amend the aims of the Commission in section 1.
(3) Regulations set under this Section shall be subject to negative procedure.

CHAPTER 2:

Section 7: Sustainability Subsidy Scheme
(1) A sustainability subsidy scheme shall be established, funded and run by the designated operations UK Investment Bank.
(2) Administration of the Sustainability Subsidy scheme shall be to the responsibility of the —

(a) UK Investment Bank;
(b) Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs or the responsible competent authority; and
(c) should the provisions of this Act extent to Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland; their respective competent authorities.

(3) Funds from the established scheme in paragraph 1 shall be used to support innovation and resilience investment into the agriculture industry, in which for the purposes of this Act, includes sheep farming.
(4) The Secretary of State may set regulations, through secondary legislation, to amend this Section.
(5) Regulations set under this Section shall be subject to negative procedure.

Chapter 3: Connected Purposes

Section 8: Application to Scotland
(1) This Act shall extend to Scotland following the passage of a motion of legislative consent in the Scottish Parliament.
(2) For application in Scotland, where “Secretary of State” is mentioned within this act, the Scottish Ministers shall have responsibility.
(3) Where applicable, the subsidy established by Section 6 shall be paid by the Scottish Treasury.
Section 9: Application to Wales
(1) This Act shall extend to Wales following the passage of a motion of legislative consent in the Welsh Parliament.
(2) For application in Scotland, where “Secretary of State” is mentioned within this act, the Welsh Ministers shall have responsibility.
(3) Where applicable, the subsidy established by Section 6 shall be paid by the Welsh Treasury.
Section 10: Application to Northern Ireland
(1) This Act shall extend to Northern Ireland following the passage of a motion of legislative consent in the Northern Ireland Assembly.
(2) For application in Scotland, where “Secretary of State” is mentioned within this act, the Northern Irish Ministers shall have responsibility.
(3) Where applicable, the subsidy established by Section 6 shall be paid by the Treasury for Northern Ireland.

Section 11: Short Title, Commencement and Extent

(1) This Act may be cited as the ‘Sheep and Wool (Innovation and Resilience) Act’.
(2) This Act commences a year and one day following royal assent.
(3) This Act extends to the entirety of the United Kingdom.
This Bill was submitted by the Right Honourable Dame u/Underwater_Tara CT KG MVO PC, Countess Kilcreggan, Shadow Defence Secretary, on behalf of the 39th Official Opposition. With contributions from the Right Honourable Dame u/Waffel-lol LT CMG GCMG, Leader of His Majesty’s Official Opposition, and the Right Honourable u/Hobnob88 Lord Inverness, Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer
Opening Speech:
Mr Speaker,
I welcome the privilege I have been given to open this debate, bringing attention and debate to a subject that has seldom seen debate in this House in the last 10 years.
Britain has a proud agricultural and horticultural history, founded on the principles that enabled Britain to be one of the foremost exporters of fabrics for around a Century. This bill is founded on those same principles, and will enable the sheep and wool industry to continue for years and decades to come.
A core part of this bill is sustainability. Now, this has double meanings. There is environmental sustainability, and the use of the word in the sense of how well the industry can maintain itself long into the future. Particularly in recent years there have been problems with the industry maintaining its competitiveness and as a result the British sheep industry has very much pivoted towards primarily meat production. This pivot, as a result of uncompetitiveness, is something that this bill is intending to help tackle.
In the previous few decades, the prevalence of so-called fast-fashion has grown and grown. Cheap clothes produced on a pence-per-hour wage, shipped in cheaply and “drop-shipped” to your door, designed for a handful of wears then thrown away. I personally recall during university my housemate saying how she needed to buy a new outfit for whatever night out she was going on next, and this is profoundly wasteful. These clothes are produced at high environmental expense, in highly unethical circumstances and we must create an alternative.
That alternative is fabrics produced closer to home, especially for consumers in the UK. The reason why wool was traditionally the fabric used for fine clothes and linen for cheaper and more daily use clothes. Even when cotton began to be imported, it was reserved for the wealthy as it was highly costly to import. In order to achieve net-zero, we must begin to seriously begin considering how we can fulfil the majority of our textile needs closer to home, and reverse the pivot of the British Wool industry towards solely meat production.
Thus, Mr Speaker, we arrive at this bill. This bill puts all of what I have said already into practice, setting up a government-backed commission to advise on policy changes necessary to safeguard the British wool industry and ensure its sustainability. Further, we have set up a new subsidy scheme to be operated by the British Investment Bank that will be responsible for appropriately subsidising wool producers to deliver innovation and ensure resilience.
I commend this bill to the House and wish to see it’s swift passage.
This debate will close on 12th June at 10PM BST.

Anyone got any idea what the Gotham City Police Department's rank/hierarchy system is? It doesn't seem to match up with any real world system.
I generally see it portrayed as officer (uniformed), detective (plain clothes), lieutenant, & commissioner (synonymous with chief of police), although I'm sure there's supposed to be other ranks in there somewhere. I know sergeants exist but I'm unsure where they fit it (I assume they're below lieutenant).
I've been meaning to read Gotham Central, maybe it elaborates on this?

Dear valued TJX and Marshalls customers....

 Please do not take over 6 items into the fitting rooms and only purchase a few or none of these. The fitting room racks fill up very fast from all the items people try on. And the workers get very stressed. The workers have to put the clothing items on other racks where they don't go if one of the racks is too full, and in some cases the clothing has to go on the desk, benches, and even on the floor. This looks very messy. If by the point of the racks being stuffed to the brim, and clothing having to lay across the benches and floor, the fitting room associate will be wanting to scream and lose it. Please don't take more than 6 items into the fitting rooms with the intent of only trying them on and not getting them. The associate in the fitting room may smile at you. But inside they're wondering how ignorant and how black your soul is to put us through this. And how we view you, regardless of how nice you are, will be negative. Now you might be wondering "if the fitting room racks are so full, why don't you just call someone to clean them?". Oh sweety. You poor ignorant thing. I already have 4 times over the walkie, pleading with my associates to take the clothing back out to the floor. But they're idiots. None of them answer. They assume someone else will run them, despite the associate being the only one in the designated area. So it's their responsibility. But they're young and don't care enough about their job. It is only when managers ask that they will run them. Or maybe the associates in a designated area are mature and do well, actually taking the clothing back! But it's a busy day. And the managers are making them work in another area. And thus, nothing can be done. Please, have pity on our souls. Don't take any more than 6 items in tbe fitting room with the intention of buying only a few or none at all. Please. I'm dying inside. I don't want a panic attack at work and have to turn in my notice. The economy isn't good enough to find other work quickly. Please. 

Kind regards, A [very stressed] fitting rooms associate

I have been on parental leave this semester. I am very much looking forward to returning to work in the Fall. I have been thinking about getting a standing desk and a walking pad. My thoughts on how this would be beneficial: 1. I still have 20 pounds of baby weight to lose (don’t really care about how I look, but want to fit in to my dress clothes). I thoroughly enjoy walking with my baby in the stroller and would like to walk when I return to work. 2. There is a well-documented link between physical activity and mood, productivity, sleep, and energy levels. 3. I have a history of skin cancer and want to avoid the sun as much as possible.
So my questions are: 1. Anyone with a walking pad and standing desk now, is it worth the money? Is it very noisy? What brand do you have? 2. Any ideas of a place to apply for grant money for this endeavor? I would be happy to write up these benefits and add the frame of a nurse moving from a fast-paced physical job to a sedentary desk position. I could expand the proposal to ask for walking pads and standing desks for all full-time faculty in my department (14 of us). I could maybe even add in a small research study.
My employer is currently in a budget crisis and there is no internal grant money. I have asked a few people on campus and they do not know of any external grants to apply for. I have done a quick search myself and did not find anything fitting.
I appreciate all of the input!

First off I must emphasize to be gentle on criticisms as I have poor views on myself . With that being said, let me start. I've been working at my local Walmart for quite sometime and been on an okay relationship with my team leads. However, recently the one team lead began to get very demanding. Our fitting room was renovated with no office space to do our work, and according to this team lead we are to have no tables, no top-stock carts or no carts of any kind to do our returns. And with what returns we get we must run out right with no way of sorting to different areas to do bulk returns. If we do bulk returns we HAVE to go all the way to the back and do this, and between this to run back to the fitting rooms if a customer needs assistance. Than, we must stay there until the customer is finished with the fitting room, which takes some time because either they have multiple clothing to try on, or more customers show up, so returns get piled up. With my way, if I could aquire one top stock cart, and one shopping cart, I can cut the returns to minimal because most of those returns are near the fitting room area.
Yet, according to this team lead, management refuses anything that takes up unnecessary space isn't allowed. So, no top stocks, folding tables, just one cart! Now, here's the kicker. Yesterday, this particular team lead was off so I asked management if there was any way around this. I was informed we were never restricted from all top stock carts, just not that much. We were allowed at least one top stock for returns and folding I began to get confused so I asked around about this team lead to see if any other employees had issues with this one. Turns out, there are multiple ethical issues with this team lead and a higher lead cannot stand this one.
According to him/her if anyone shows any progress in their job, the lower team lead will rain hell over that employee to either run them to another department or run them off. Yet no one wants to run this toxic TL off. This TL has made me have a anxiety crisis three times already but I don't want to report them Even though everyone says retaliation isn't acceptable What is said and what is done are two different things I'm just wondering if anyone has issues with team leads

A xianzhou native, specifically a long life species. This might be a bit long but here's why.
From one of Topaz's character story,

"This should be the last time I send you a work report through the system. Time flies. In the blink of an eye, I've already worked for half an Amber Era at the Strategic Investment Department, and only managed to climb to my current position through many trials and hardship. I may not be able to call myself distinguished, but I have at least gathered enough wealth for the next few generations of my family. I desire nothing else. Here, I would like to specifically thank the phenomenal support you've constantly given to Marketing Team 166, Madam Jade."

Dvorski sends a report to Jade to thank her for the constant support. If she constantly supported his team for HALF an Amber Era, she should be quite old. At least old enough to see Topaz go up in her ranks. But how could she still look this young? Unless she is a long life species.
According to Sushang, the IPC has ties with the xianzhou yaoqing,

"My home, the Xianzhou Yaoqing, had much closer ties with the IPC. Initially, people thought they were just engaging in a little interstellar investment... but over time, things changed. Gradually, the Yaoqing's younger generations began to enjoy the immersia produced by the IPC's Entertainment Division. Once they started wearing IPC clothing lines, you could hardly tell if they were Xianzhou locals or IPC employees." "After their Coming of Age Ceremonies, a lot of them aspired to join the IPC to make it big. The architecture across the whole delve began to change. The graceful flying eaves I saw as a child became fewer and fewer, and the glazed tiles and Fallow Earth bricks gradually disappeared. Sleek, monolithic IPC buildings started sprouting up everywhere. Any of the Yaoqing locals older than 500 — like my mother — will say the Yaoqing has changed. But they're not sure whether this change is leading to a better future..."

From this we can know that the IPC "took over" xianzhou yaoqing by being friendly towards them and slowly taking over, much like Jade's Cornerstone activation speech.

"I come for an audience. I come to fill wine, and I come to claim. I bestow poison in the guise of sweet dew. Come the toil of spring and yield of fall, I patiently wait for the branches to be heavy with withered fruits. All for the Amber Lord"

The xianzhou yaoqing's situation is like "poison in the guise of sweet dew" and the change was slow, like "patiently wait for the branches to be heavy with withered fruits". From this, we can somehow guess that Jade could be the one in charge of that as there will most likely be a high ranking IPC employee( like a Stoneheart) who's in charge.
This shows that Jade is either a xianzhou native(particularly yaoqing) or has ties with the xianzhou or both.
Lastly, devs said that we will be visiting the xianzhou this year, not sure when(I think it would be 2.4 because of the drip marketing and introducing silhouettes of xianzhou characters in the 2.3 livestream). Jade wasn't really relevant in the Penecony arc with just a cameo voice appearance previously. If they set her character up now, she could possibly be in the xianzhou continuance patches.
Thank you for reading this and tell me what you think or correct me if some points doesn't male sense. Have a nice day.