I live alone (other than my pet parakeet) in a two bedroom townhome and have been considering getting a small puppy as a companion for a while now, as I also work from home full time and it’s lonely spending so much time in my house. My birthday is this week and my brother offered to get me a puppy for my birthday last month, so I decided to take the leap when he offered and will have the puppy in a few days.
Meanwhile, my boyfriend, who I’ve been off/on with for a few years, has started staying with me more. We are in our 30s. He has bipolar disorder and depression that he was recently diagnosed with and moved home with his parents (at their suggestion) to get back on his feet, but I’ve observed they’re emotionally abusive and being there is even worse on his mental health.
We had separated for a while earlier this spring because he needed space to figure out his mental health after his diagnosis, so I hadn’t told him about the puppy or really considered his opinion, since I wasn’t sure what our future would even be at that point after being off/on for years and honestly this was a decision for myself.
My boyfriend and I have reconnected lately and he recently brought some more of his things over (after asking me) because he was driving back and forth a lot to get things from his parents’ house. I still pay the bills. We haven’t discussed him being here as a permanent thing and I don’t want to push it while he’s still figuring out his recent diagnosis and mental health, but said yes to him staying here for now because it’s hard to watch the situation with his family.
I’m nervous to tell him about the dog plan because I’m not sure how he’ll feel. He says he doesn’t want pets and also claimed not to like birds, but treats my parakeet like a king. Researched parakeets to make sure we were doing all the best things for him, plays with him daily, sings him songs, has a whole bedtime routine for him. They’re best friends now and it’s adorable. He’s said having the bird to take care of makes him so much happier. I don’t expect him to take care of the dog, but I’m 99.9% sure having the dog around will have a similar affect on his mental health.
WIBTA for proceeding with my plan to get the puppy without getting his input now that he’s been staying with me more?

Was about to sign with Sun Run (I know, I know) because they offered everything we wanted except the IQ8A upgrade from the IQ8+. That's fine, but then I had a conversation with a local installer (Colorado) and he urged us to avoid Enphase for the time being due to a couple recent house fires (with iq something installed) and a wealth of micro inverter communication errors he's been battling. Now we don't know what to do. He turned us on to Generac but I'm burnt out on researching and thinking about all this. I'm super curious what kind of feedback and advice this community has to offer.
Edit: perfect southern facing roof lines hosting 3x arrays totaling 19 400w panels.

Apologies for the length and lateness of this post, past few months have been quite chaotic and haven't had much access to the internet, I dunno when I'll be back on this sub again after this so until then, more posts from me will be a Dream for Spring Summer (probably)
Over the years I've read a great many theories about the character of Varys, his motivations, his scheming throughout the series and his endgame, but none of them have ever truly sat well with me for how much his character feels simplified. He is one of ASOIAF's most complex characters who I still believe we haven't entirely cracked yet, and I for one still believe even after writing this post up and reflecting on it, there's still some of his character that I haven't figured out.
However, I want to propose an alternative character analysis to the character of Varys, one that drifts away from the more common take on his character - Varys is not a eunuch or a friend of Tyrion Lannister, and has spent his entire life lying about his manhood to deter anyone from thinking that he could father any children, so that fAegon, his true son, would always be protected while hiding.
Let us begin by breaking down each of the lies that define his character.
First, the lie that he was castrated as a young slave and had his manhood thrown into a fire by 'a certain man', which resulted in the fire turning magically blue and 'a voice' speaking out to Varys.

"One day at Myr, a certain man came to our folly. After the performance, he made an offer for me that my master found too tempting to refuse. I was in terror. I feared the man meant to use me as I had heard men used small boys, but in truth the only part of me he had need of was my manhood. He gave me a potion that made me powerless to move or speak, yet did nothing to dull my senses. With a long hooked blade, he sliced me root and stem, chanting all the while. I watched him burn my manly parts on a brazier. The flames turned blue, and I heard a voice answer his call, though I did not understand the words they spoke. "The mummers had sailed by the time he was done with me. Once I had served his purpose, the man had no further interest in me, so he put me out. When I asked him what I should do now, he answered that he supposed I should die. To spite him, I resolved to live. I begged, I stole, and I sold what parts of my body still remained to me. Soon I was as good a thief as any in Myr, and when I was older I learned that often the contents of a man's letters are more valuable than the contents of his purse. "Yet I still dream of that night, my lord. Not of the sorcerer, nor his blade, nor even the way my manhood shriveled as it burned. I dream of the voice. The voice from the flames. Was it a god, a demon, some conjurer's trick? I could not tell you, and I know all the tricks. All I can say for a certainty is that he called it, and it answered, and since that day I have hated magic and all those who practice it. If Lord Stannis is one such, I mean to see him dead." - ACOK - TYRION X

Now there is much from this excerpt to raise complaints and questions about Varys' story;

• There are no known instances of individuals being mutilated and having their mutilated parts being sacrificed in the flames for the sake of blood magic or appeasing R'hllor. Individuals have often been sacrificed to the flames, but sacrificed in their whole bodies.
  
• The details of how Varys was mutilated and that he was able to survive is unbelievable, and even more unbelievable that he went on to live as an orphan on the streets after this horrific ordeal with little to no medical treatment. Varys' simple claim that he "resolved to live" is very vague.
  
• Varys can remember this mystic and mysterious voice, but not what it send or what the words sounded like. Melisandre claims to hear the voices of R'hllor in the flames and voices could be heard from Drogo's tent when Mirri Maz Duhr was performing her blood magic, but these voices are only heard by the sorcerers, and not the victims. By all accounts, Varys should not have been able to hear these voices, if part of himself was fed to the flames.
  

But the weakest part of all is that Varys says that he "hates magic and all those who practise it", yet he goes to great lengths to protect and look out for Daenerys, and try to join fAegon's forces with hers, despite knowing that she has three magical dragons by her side.

"How many days until we reach the river?" he asked Illyrio that evening. "At this pace, your queen's dragons will be larger than Aegon's three before I can lay eyes upon them." "Would it were so. A large dragon is more fearsome than a small one." The magister shrugged. "Much as it would please me to welcome Queen Daenerys to Volantis, I must rely on you and Griff for that. I can serve her best in Pentos, smoothing the way for her return. So long as I am with you, though … well, an old fat man must have his comforts, yes? Come, drink a cup of wine." - ADWD - TYRION II

Illyrio is Varys' best friend and closest confidant, who he works with to protect Daenerys for much of her life and is willing to crown her as Queen alongside fAegon even though she has magical fire-breathing dragons that Varys, a victim of magical flames, would despise.
Illyrio, the same man who praised R'hllor, a God that Varys despises;

Her brother was waiting in the cool of the entry hall, seated on the edge of the pool, his hand trailing in the water. He rose when she appeared and looked her over critically. "Stand there," he told her. "Turn around. Yes. Good. You look …" "Regal," Magister Illyrio said, stepping through an archway. He moved with surprising delicacy for such a massive man. Beneath loose garments of flame-colored silk, rolls of fat jiggled as he walked. Gemstones glittered on every finger, and his man had oiled his forked yellow beard until it shone like real gold. "May the Lord of Light shower you with blessings on this most fortunate day, Princess Daenerys," the magister said as he took her hand. He bowed his head, showing a thin glimpse of crooked yellow teeth through the gold of his beard. "She is a vision, Your Grace, a vision," he told her brother. "Drogo will be enraptured." - AGOT - DAENERYS I

Neither Viserys or Daenerys were followers of R'hllor at this point, or surrounded by any followers, meaning Illyrio didn't need to bring up this form of prayer to R'hllor unless it was genuine or near genuine on his own part.
It makes little sense that Varys would entertain the company of those who worship R'hllor or magical forms of fire, if Varys truly is traumatised by what seemingly happened to him as a slave child by fire.
As well as Illyrio, this is apparent in Aerys II, who would regularly burn people in the throne room with wildfire, in the presence of Varys;

Frustrated, Aerys turned to the Wisdoms of the ancient Guild of Alchemists, who knew the secret of producing the volatile jade green substance known as wildfire, said to be a close cousin to dragonflame. The pyromancers became a regular fixture at his court as the king's fascination with fire grew. By 280 AC, Aerys II had taken to burning traitors, murderers, and plotters, rather than hanging or beheading them. The king seemed to take great pleasure in these fiery executions, which were presided over by Wisdom Rossart, the grand master of the Guild of Alchemists...so much so that he granted Rossart the title of Lord and gave him a seat upon the small council. - TWOIAF - THE TARGARYEN KINGS - AERYS II

Not only would Varys be present to witness these burnings, but Varys even encouraged Aerys to burn other individuals suspected of treachery, and fuelled both Aerys' paranoia and bloodlust;

He floated in heat, in memory. "After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him." Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? "He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins' men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King's Landing. Beneath Baelor's Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself. - ASOS - JAIME V

Varys developed a reputation for egging on Aerys' paranoia and encouraging him to execute apparent traitors by fire, so much so that people like Barristan lay chief blame for Aerys' downfall into madness on Varys for exploiting it;

"It is not a question of wanting. The throne is mine, as Robert's heir. That is law. After me, it must pass to my daughter, unless Selyse should finally give me a son." He ran three fingers lightly down the table, over the layers of smooth hard varnish, dark with age. "I am king. Wants do not enter into it. I have a duty to my daughter. To the realm. Even to Robert. He loved me but little, I know, yet he was my brother. The Lannister woman gave him horns and made a motley fool of him. She may have murdered him as well, as she murdered Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. For such crimes there must be justice. Starting with Cersei and her abominations. But only starting. I mean to scour that court clean. As Robert should have done, after the Trident. Ser Barristan once told me that the rot in King Aerys's reign began with Varys. The eunuch should never have been pardoned. No more than the Kingslayer. At the least, Robert should have stripped the white cloak from Jaime and sent him to the Wall, as Lord Stark urged. He listened to Jon Arryn instead. I was still at Storm's End, under siege and unconsulted." He turned abruptly, to give Davos a hard shrewd look. "The truth, now. Why did you wish to murder Lady Melisandre?" - ASOS - DAVOS IV

It makes very little sense that Varys, a eunuch who seemingly hates worshippers of R'hllor and pyromancers for burning people and sacrificing his manhood to the flames as a child, would be best friends with a man who praises R'hllor or encourage his previous King to burn several people, many of whom were likely innocent of the claims of treachery put against them.
But it makes a lot more sense that Varys actually never had a problem with R'hllor or wildfire, and instead chose to encourage Aerys' paranoia so that he would always both seem useful to Aerys and be on good relations with him, to solidify his position of power on the Small Council, given that he was just a young foreign man in Westeros and wholly dependent on Aerys' support to maintain his standing in King's Landing.
The second lie of Varys' character that I wish to tackle is his apparent concern for the wellbeing of children;

"No," Ned pleaded, his voice cracking. "Varys, gods have mercy, do as you like with me, but leave my daughter out of your schemes. Sansa's no more than a child." "Rhaenys was a child too. Prince Rhaegar's daughter. A precious little thing, younger than your girls. She had a small black kitten she called Balerion, did you know? I always wondered what happened to him. Rhaenys liked to pretend he was the true Balerion, the Black Dread of old, but I imagine the Lannisters taught her the difference between a kitten and a dragon quick enough, the day they broke down her door." Varys gave a long weary sigh, the sigh of a man who carried all the sadness of the world in a sack upon his shoulders. "The High Septon once told me that as we sin, so do we suffer. If that's true, Lord Eddard, tell me … why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones? Ponder it, if you would, while you wait upon the queen. And spare a thought for this as well: The next visitor who calls on you could bring you bread and cheese and the milk of the poppy for your pain … or he could bring you Sansa's head. - AGOT - EDDARD XV

Varys shows apparent disgust at the murders of Rhaegar's children, Rhaenys and Aegon, at the end of Robert's Rebellion, and the way in which they were brutally murdered.
However, we later learn in the series that Aegon seemingly survived and was swapped with a tanner's child, bought by Varys and swapped with Aegon, so that this bought child could be sacrificed to the Lannisters, who Varys presumed would want to kill Rhaegar's children;

"A true friend, our Lord Connington. He must be, to remain so fiercely loyal to the grandson of the king who took his lands and titles and sent him into exile. A pity about that. Elsewise Prince Rhaegar's friend might have been on hand when my father sacked King's Landing, to save Prince Rhaegar's precious little son from getting his royal brains dashed out against a wall." The lad flushed. "That was not me. I told you. That was some tanner's son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died birthing him. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of Arbor gold. He had other sons but had never tasted Arbor gold. Varys gave the Pisswater boy to my lady mother and carried me away." "Aye." Tyrion moved his elephants. "And when the pisswater prince was safely dead, the eunuch smuggled you across the narrow sea to his fat friend the cheesemonger, who hid you on a poleboat and found an exile lord willing to call himself your father. It does make for a splendid story, and the singers will make much of your escape once you take the Iron Throne … assuming that our fair Daenerys takes you for her consort." - ADWD - TYRION VI

This entire "splendid story" as Tyrion calls it, is full of inconsistencies and unbelievable acts.
The first red flag of this story is the idea that Varys, a former slave child who abhors slavery, would willingly buy another man's young child. Also pay attention to the mention of 'Arbor gold', which has been well documented on this sub for years for how its always a signal of lies, as individuals like Littlefinger mention it in passing whenever they are telling a lie.
The second red flag is the idea that Varys, someone who seemingly abhors the murder and suffering of innocent children, would willingly sacrifice an innocent young child and allow them to be murdered just to spare another, more valuable child. The idea that Varys would also take Elia's child away from her, either willingly or unwillingly on her part, is also questionable.
The third red flag is why Varys chose only to switch Aegon with another child, and not do the same for Rhaenys. Having two imposter Targaryen children raised to believe they are Targaryens could've helped to support their claims, build them up as a rival power in Westeros and also provide a backup option for Varys incase fAegon didn't survive his childhood.
The final red flag is the idea that Varys was able to foresee how the Rebellion was going to end, accurately guessed that Rhaegar's children would be murdered by the Lannisters, knew where and when to find Elia and her children, be able to remove one of her children away from her without anyone knowing, and knew that one of Tywin's men would kill the children so brutally that next to no one would be able to recognise them - the idea story is built on a series of flimsy conveniences and incredible predictive abilities on Varys' part.
If Varys truly cared so much about the protection and well-being of children, he would not have willingly bought and sacrificed an innocent child to be sacrificed in exchange for Aegon's survival, nor would he have abandoned Rhaenys to her fate if he could have prevented it. This means either Varys truly doesn't give a damn about the wellbeing of children and just lies to the likes of Ned and Tyrion about it, or that the entire story about Aegon being swapped with a tanner's child is a lie like some fans believe, or that both stories are lies muddled together to make it more difficult to discern the truth.
Perhaps the truth of Varys' lies is best exposed in this often cited excerpt from ACOK, a conversation between him and Tyrion about the infamous "Shadow on the Wall" riddle;

Varys smiled. "Here, then. Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less.""So power is a mummer's trick?" "A shadow on the wall," Varys murmured, "yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow." Tyrion smiled. "Lord Varys, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you yet, but I think I'd feel sad about it." - ACOK - TYRION II

The question of who Varys refers to in this conversation has been debated for years on this sub. Some believe that Varys was alluding to fAegon, that if people believe he is the real Aegon then he will have power, even if he doesn't truly have power as a common non-Targaryen child. Others have suggested Varys was alluding to Littlefinger, who was once a young small man who rose very high in King's Landing and cast a large shadow over the realm by starting the WotFk through his schemes.
I however believe that Varys is talking about himself.
Varys was once a very small man when he came to King's Landing at Aerys' calling for him to join the Small Council. He was seen as a young ex-slave, without a lordship or house of his own, weak and powerless. But overtime, through his manipulation of Aerys, encouraging his paranoia and own self-inflicted downfall, Varys cast a very large shadow over the empire of House Targaryen in Westeros, and destroyed it forever. What Varys says here to Tyrion is a very veiled threat that he can be dangerous to Tyrion if he underestimates Varys.
Tyrion however, in his arrogance, believes that Varys is referring to him, being a "very small man" and begins considering him a friend.
This is the third and final lie of Varys' character that I wish to dissect here - the lie that he is a friend or useful ally of sorts to Tyrion.
The idea of Varys betraying Tyrion's trust and working against him is first presented to us by Cersei, when she lets slip that Varys informed her of Tyrion's plan to send the Hound into battle at the Battle of the Blackwater;

"Varys says so." The swan was too rich for his taste. A line appeared on Cersei's pale white brow, between those lovely eyes. "You put too much trust in that eunuch." "He serves me well." "Or so he'd have you believe. You think you're the only one he whispers secrets to? He gives each of us just enough to convince us that we'd be helpless without him. He played the same game with me, when I first wed Robert. For years, I was convinced I had no truer friend at court, but now . . ." She studied his face for a moment. "He says you mean to take the Hound from Joffrey." - ACOK - TYRION XII

On a first read, we are quick to dismiss Cersei's claims for how much she is built up as an antagonistic and untrustworthy character, but in later understanding her motives in her own POV chapters, we realise there may be an inkling of truth in her claims. In the case of the Hound, Varys has no reason to inform her of Tyrion's plan, however innocent and insignificant in the grand game of thrones they may be, other than to maintain some level of trust with her and to invoke conflict between the Lannister siblings, which benefits Varys.
There are frequent moments throughout the series in which Varys alludes to knowing key information and deliberately withholding it from Tyrion even if it may benefit Tyrion, including who ordered Mandon Moore to kill Tyrion;

Bronn had turned up all he could on Ser Mandon, but no doubt Varys knew a deal more . . . should he choose to share it. "The man seems to have been quite friendless," Tyrion said carefully. "Sadly," said Varys, "oh, sadly. You might find some kin if you turned over enough stones back in the Vale, but here . . . Lord Arryn brought him to King's Landing and Robert gave him his white cloak, but neither loved him much, I fear. Nor was he the sort the smallfolk cheer in tourneys, despite his undoubted prowess. Why, even his brothers of the Kingsguard never warmed to him. Ser Barristan was once heard to say that the man had no friend but his sword and no life but duty . . . but you know, I do not think Selmy meant it altogether as praise. Which is queer when you consider it, is it not? Those are the very qualities we seek in our Kingsguard, it could be said—men who live not for themselves, but for their king. By those lights, our brave Ser Mandon was the perfect white knight. And he died as a knight of the Kingsguard ought, with sword in hand, defending one of the king's own blood." The eunuch gave him a slimy smile and watched him sharply. Trying to murder one of the king's own blood, you mean. Tyrion wondered if Varys knew rather more than he was saying. - ASOS - TYRION II

When Tyrion presses Varys for information about Mandon, Varys deliberately skims over Mandon's life and offers vague beliefs about the perfect Kingsguard to try and derail Tyrion's line of questioning, and when Varys pretends not to have known about Mandon trying to kill Tyrion, he watches Tyrion "sharply" to try and gather how much Tyrion himself knows, whether or not Tyrion will seek retribution for it from the anger on his face, and almost openly mocks him for the smile he gives. Tyrion briefly considers the idea that Varys is deliberately holding information back from him, but chooses instead to talk about other matters, which is what Varys wanted.
On the matter of Varys' choosing to support the Lannisters or Stannis, Varys once again tries to confuse Tyrion with riddles and not directly answer the question;

"He accuses my brother and sister of incest. I wonder how he came by that suspicion." "Perhaps he read a book and looked at the color of a bastard's hair, as Ned Stark did, and Jon Arryn before him. Or perhaps someone whispered it in his ear." The eunuch's laugh was not his usual giggle, but deeper and more throaty. "Someone like you, perchance?" "Am I suspected? It was not me." "If it had been, would you admit it?" "No. But why should I betray a secret I have kept so long? It is one thing to deceive a king, and quite another to hide from the cricket in the rushes and the little bird in the chimney. Besides, the bastards were there for all to see." - ACOK - TYRION III

We know for certain that Varys didn't want the WotFK to start so soon or for the truth of Cersei's children to come out in AGOT because he wanted more time for Viserys' forces to grow in strength and come closer to Westeros in order to invade, either to take the throne for themselves or be the ones to kill the beloved Robert Baratheon and paint themselves as villainous usurpers to make fAegon more heroic and not taint him with Robert's blood on his hands.
However, like with Cersei and Tyrion, Varys needs to tell those on the Small Council a certain amount of secretive information in order to gain their trust and support, including Stannis. That Varys even chooses to give a deeper and more unsettling laugh about the matter is another example of him openly laughing about his treachery in Tyrion's face and Tyrion not realising it.
When Tyrion almost stumbles upon this ruse and Varys realises that his laugh was too deep and questionable, Varys tries to brush it off by saying its harder to keep a secret secret if so many people are investigating it, and insists that there were so many of Robert's bastards to find for Stannis to figure out the truth on his own. But again, this last statement from Varys is littered with half-truths.
Varys insists it is hard to keep deceiving King Robert about the truth of his children's true parentage, and even harder to keep deceiving the truth from those who are deliberately looking for the truth and wanting to find it. This in itself is a reference to his believe that Stannis was always power-hungry for the Iron Throne, and was just looking for an excuse to try to claim it for himself as Robert's true heir, regardless of whether or not Cersei's children were Robert's or not.
But his own comment about "betraying a secret I have held for so long" is a direct allusion to fAegon's existence, and his determination not to reveal the truth of his existence to anyone, including Tyrion.
Even when Tyrion rides with Illyrio and Jon Connington's entourage in ADWD, Tyrion is only led to believe that they are going to support Daenerys' claim for the Iron Throne, and has to work out for himself that fAegon is actually Aegon and the one Varys and Illyrio wish to crown;

Young Griff hesitated. "Lannister? Your father—" "—is dead. At my hand. If it please Your Grace to call me Yollo or Hugor, so be it, but know that I was born Tyrion of House Lannister, trueborn son of Tywin and Joanna, both of whom I slew. Men will tell you that I am a kingslayer, a kinslayer, and a liar, and all of that is true … but then, we are a company of liars, are we not? Take your feigned father. Griff, is it?" The dwarf sniggered. "You should thank the gods that Varys the Spider is a part of this plot of yours. Griff would not have fooled the cockless wonder for an instant, no more than it did me. No lord, my lordship says, no knight. And I'm no dwarf. Just saying a thing does not make it true. Who better to raise Prince Rhaegar's infant son than Prince Rhaegar's dear friend Jon Connington, once Lord of Griffin's Roost and Hand of the King?" "Be quiet." Griff's voice was uneasy. - ADWD - TYRION V

After Tyrion works out the truth and manipulates both fAegon and Jon Connington into riding for Westeros instead of joining forces with Daenerys, he disappears and goes off to seek her out.
This likely angers Varys, and is the reason why Varys no longer affectionately calls Tyrion by his name or by '"lord" and instead refers to him as "the imp" in ADWD's epilogue, a term that Varys knows Tyrion hates;

Ser Kevan tried to rise, but the strength had left him. He could not feel his legs. "I thought the crossbow fitting. You shared so much with Lord Tywin, why not that? Your niece will think the Tyrells had you murdered, mayhaps with the connivance of the Imp. The Tyrells will suspect her. Someone somewhere will find a way to blame the Dornishmen. Doubt, division, and mistrust will eat the very ground beneath your boy king, whilst Aegon raises his banner above Storm's End and the lords of the realm gather round him." "Aegon?" For a moment he did not understand. Then he remembered. A babe swaddled in a crimson cloak, the cloth stained with his blood and brains. "Dead. He's dead." - ADWD - EPILOGUE

Varys chooses to frame Tyrion for Kevan's murder, **deliberately and intentionally further putting his life in danger by Cersei's wrath, already knowing that Tyrion has a large bounty on his head because of her, and talks lowly of Tyrion by calling him an "Imp" and referring to his "connivance" in a very scorned tone.
Varys never considered Tyrion a friend or ally in ASOIAF and was just using him, another lie that he tells throughout the series, and by the end of ADWD, he hates Tyrion for his scheming and knowing too much information than Varys wished him to know.
But there is a bigger telling point about how much Varys uses Tyrion, and a more ground-breaking twist in the narrative that reflects both how much Varys underestimates Tyrion and how much Varys never cared for him;
In ASOS, Varys didn't tell Tyrion how to reach the Tower of the Hand to go and kill Tywin. Varys told him this key information so that Tyrion could go and kill Shae instead, who Varys considered a greater threat to him.
Shae is one of the few, perhaps the only, people in ASOIAF to see through Varys' disguises;

A whiff of something rank made him turn his head. Shae stood in the door behind him, dressed in the silvery robe he'd given her. I loved a maid as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair. Behind her stood one of the begging brothers, a portly man in filthy patched robes, his bare feet crusty with dirt, a bowl hung about his neck on a leather thong where a septon would have worn a crystal. The smell of him would have gagged a rat. "Lord Varys has come to see you," Shae announced. The begging brother blinked at her, astonished. Tyrion laughed. "To be sure. How is it you knew him when I did not?" She shrugged. "It's still him. Only dressed different." - ACOK - TYRION X

This catches Varys off guard, and any chance of seeing him being angry or looking threatened is waved away from the reader when Tyrion laughs it off and turns his attention again to his paramour Shae.
Wearing disguises is a very important part of Varys' many schemes, including visiting Ned Stark in the Black Cells as the gaoler Rugen;

"Wine," a voice answered. It was not the rat-faced man; this gaoler was stouter, shorter, though he wore the same leather half cape and spiked steel cap. "Drink, Lord Eddard." He thrust a wineskin into Ned's hands. The voice was strangely familiar, yet it took Ned Stark a moment to place it. "Varys?" he said groggily when it came. He touched the man's face. "I'm not … not dreaming this. You're here." The eunuch's plump cheeks were covered with a dark stubble of beard. Ned felt the coarse hair with his fingers. Varys had transformed himself into a grizzled turnkey, reeking of sweat and sour wine. "How did you … what sort of magician are you?" - AGOT - EDDARD XV

His disguise as Rugen is very important to Varys' plans after Tyrion's disappearance from King's Landing, as Varys seeks to frame Rugen as a Tyrell puppet who broke Tyrion from imprisonment on the Tyrells' behalf, to sow division and further paranoia between Cersei and the Tyrells;

Gold, yes, but the moment Cersei took it she could tell that it was wrong. Too small, she thought, too thin. The coin was old and worn. On one side was a king's face in profile, on the other side the imprint of a hand. "This is no dragon," she said. "No," Qyburn agreed. "It dates from before the Conquest, Your Grace. The king is Garth the Twelfth, and the hand is the sigil of House Gardener." Of Highgarden. Cersei closed her hand around the coin. What treachery is this? Mace Tyrell had been one of Tyrion's judges, and had called loudly for his death. Was that some ploy? Could he have been plotting with the Imp all the while, conspiring at Father's death? With Tywin Lannister in his grave, Lord Tyrell was an obvious choice to be King's Hand, but even so . . . "You will not speak of this with anyone," she commanded. - AFFC - CERSEI II

But this ploy to incite conflict between the Lannisters and Tyrells would have failed if Shae had lived, as she had seen through Varys' disguises and could've warned Cersei of it, something which Varys could not allow, especially given that he considered her one of Cersei's pawns after Tyrion's trial.
It is also fundamentally not in Varys' interest for Tyrion to kill Tywin, as keeping Tywin alive for now would ensure the Dornish would have someone to rise up and seek vengeance against for Elia's murder. As readers are shown in AFFC and ADWD Dornish chapters, the Martells are divided and frankly confused about how to seek vengeance for Elia's murder now that Tywin, Gregor and Armory Lorch - the three men involved in her murder - are now dead. **If Tywin had lived, Varys could've played on the Dornish thirst for vengeance against him and had fAegon promise them it in exchange for their support, something which they likely would've agreed to.
So by this point in the post, we've explored some of the key lies of Varys' character to know for sure what he is not;

• He is not the victim of slavery or a sacrificial victim to magical fires, nor does he abhor those who worship R'hllor or magical flames
  
• He does not hate the killing and suffering of innocent children, and has actually sought to profit from it in the past
  
• He has never been a friend or ally to Tyrion Lannister but has instead used him, and even manipulated him into killing Shae to protect one of Varys' own future schemes
  

So who is the real Varys? Behind all of these lies and deceptions, who is he really deep down?
Well, Varys is not a eunuch, and in fact fAegon's true father by blood. Varys has deliberately spent his life lying about being a eunuch in order to discourage people from the truth that he is the father of fAegon by Illyrio’s sister, and wants to control the Iron Throne through fAegon.
Recall Varys' conversation with Tyrion in ACOK that I previously cited earlier;

"He accuses my brother and sister of incest. I wonder how he came by that suspicion." "Perhaps he read a book and looked at the color of a bastard's hair, as Ned Stark did, and Jon Arryn before him. Or perhaps someone whispered it in his ear." The eunuch's laugh was not his usual giggle, but deeper and more throaty. "Someone like you, perchance?" "Am I suspected? It was not me." "If it had been, would you admit it?" "No. But why should I betray a secret I have kept so long? It is one thing to deceive a king, and quite another to hide from the cricket in the rushes and the little bird in the chimney. Besides, the bastards were there for all to see." - ACOK - TYRION III

"Why should I betray a secret I have kept so long?" is the biggest hint towards fAegon's existence and Varys' own true motivations in the entire series. Varys makes this spur of the moment claim after being caught off guard by Tyrion and doesn't think it through before saying it and letting Tyrion realise there is more to him.
Varys was never castrated and he is not bald. He deliberately shaves his head to hide his true parentage and lies about being a eunuch to discourage people from believing that he is capable of fathering a child, a child with Blackfyre blood that he wishes to sit on the Iron Throne, a secret that Varys has cared for and kept so long.
The last time we see Varys in ADWD, he finally begins to tell the truth about fAegon's existence, and when he does, and speaks about the son he loves, he begins to speak in his real, deeper and non-emasculated voice;**

"Aegon?" For a moment he did not understand. Then he remembered. A babe swaddled in a crimson cloak, the cloth stained with his blood and brains. "Dead. He's dead." "No." The eunuch's voice seemed deeper. "He is here. Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them." - ADWD - EPILOGUE

This is who Varys truly is - not a eunuch, not a victim of slavery or castration, not a man who weeps for the suffering of children, not a friend of Tyrion Lannister, but a loving father who wishes to cast a very large shadow over the greatest empire the world of ASOIAF has ever known.
TLDR:
Varys is not a eunuch but instead the father of fAegon, a secret he has spent his life protecting, and a lie he has spent his life telling to better protect his son.
Varys does not hate R'hllor or those who worship magical flames, his entire story about his manhood being sacrificed to flames is a lie he tells to gain Tyrion's trust in their efforts to defeat Stannis in ACOK. Varys is close friends with Illyrio, a man who praises R'hllor, and spent the early parts of his life encouraging Aerys to feed innocent people to the flames of wildfire.
Varys does not hate the suffering of innocent children, he was prepared to buy an innocent child from a man and sacrifice him in order to protect the "real" Aegon, he was prepared to abandon Rhaenys to her brutal death even if he could have saved her too and prepared to send Viserys and Daenerys into a doomed invasion of Westeros that would've led to their deaths just to make fAegon appear a more heroic saviour compared to them.
Varys was never a friend or ally to Tyrion but instead was using him ever since they first met. He has repeatedly withheld important information from him such as who hired Mandon Moore to kill Tyrion and how Stannis figured out the truth about Cersei's children, and on frequent occasions has nearly openly laughed in Tyrion's face at both his misfortune and the information Varys withheld from him. Varys also manipulated Tyrion into killing Shae so that she would not expose Varys' identity as Rugen and didn't trust Tyrion with the information about fAegon's existence, something that Tyrion had to figure out himself. Varys also talks lowly of Tyrion at the end of ADWD as a "conniving Imp" which reflects Varys' true feelings about Tyrion.
Varys has spent his life shaving his hair and lying about being a eunuch to discourage anyone from believing he could father fAegon and better protect him, so that fAegon could one day take the Iron Throne, and cast a very large shadow over the Targaryen Empire forever.
Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed this theory be sure to read some of my other theories below;
All the signs that Tywin directly gave the Mountain the order to badly mistreat Elia Martell
The Father Rhaegaer, the Son Jon and the Holy Ghost Ghost, religious symbolism
Mance Rayder is a servant of the Others
Leyton Hightower is the Lord of Light and Malora Maid is Quaithe
2022 archive of ASOIAF theories available at the bottom of this post

Except for my parents, I never really have told anyone else this story, so here we are.
About 3 years ago, my parents sat me down. My dad got a job offer in Dubai, and he was going to take it. After 6 months, he had to suddenly go, leaving me and my mother behind. I lived for 6 months with my mother, and I finished elementary school. Then me and my mother went to Dubai. Before we moved, I had a rabbit, but I wasn't allowed to bring him. He lived with a friend of my mother, but he died last summer. Also, two weeks before I moved my grandma passed away, which made moving harder. On the introduction day, I didn't get to meet my homeroom teacher because of a systematic failure. On the first day of school, no one in my new class said anything, not even hello. In the car ride back home, I cried. My dad called the school and the next day the principal did an activity with the class. Still, I was ignored. I was the only kid with a light skin color, and 90% of my class was Indian. During the evenings, I cried myself to sleep. At one point, the class started playing "cricket" with a tennis ball in the classroom, and the tennis would hit my head a suspiciously often. And no one even asked if I was ok. The bullying eventually got so bad I tried to end myself, twice. During the spring break, my mom surprised me by taking me to my home country, I cried out of happiness. After spring break, me and my parents moved to another building. From there, I took the bus to school, and there were some nice people in it. But they started fighting and it didn't last long. My homeroom teacher didn't do a single thing to stop the bullying, after countless emails from my dad. I talked to a counsellor, and she said I could move homerooms next year. My class was full of Indian people, but other classes were mixed. There were some nice people in another class, but I couldn't see them often because of covid 19. I finally finished the year, and for the summer I went to my home country. My birthday is in the summer, and I remember crying because everyone that was there cared about me and loved me. After the summer break, I joined the other class, and it was way better. There were more nice people and I made some friends. But then I heard that I had to move back to my home country, halfway in the year. Right before I left, my friend group started fighting and fell apart. I remember crying when I left from a really good friends house, and I think I was his only friend. All of the above happened in about a 2 year time span. I moved back to my home country, and I joined a new school. In 1,5 years, this was the third time I joined a new class. I was very nervous, and I was scared that it would fail like the first year in Dubai. But it was a nice class. But the school system was very different than in Dubai, and it was hard settling in. My new homeroom teacher is also my math teacher, and I am horrible in math. From the beginning, she had this view that this school level doesn't suit me. Now in the present, I made some good friends. But I am not sure if I will make it to next year in this class. That is a big factor in my life right now, because if I don't make it, I will lose everything. Now, I think about Dubai every day, and think about my first year and and the friends I left behind. I did get a new rabbit, and he is very cute. My 14th birthday is in a few weeks, and I am excited for it. I have never blamed my parents for what happened, but I do blame my class from last year and my homeroom teacher. I don't want to spread hateful thoughts, but I do want people to know that people with a light skin tone can be a victim to racism. I really needed to vent this to someone, I don't care if it are strangers. If you made it this far, thank you for reading.

As darkened clouds loomed overhead, lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the dark forest with a brilliant burst of light. The crackling energy split the heavens, casting jagged veins of illumination across the landscape. The resounding BOOM that followed reverberated through the air, shaking the very foundation of Cornelia's cozy cabin. Inside, she reclined in her plush chair, enveloped in its welcoming embrace. A soft, crackling warmth emanated from the fireplace, casting a gentle glow that bathed the room in a comforting radiance. She sighed contentedly, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls, as if they were performers in a mesmerizing show.
"A good sign, isn't that right, Wendy?" Cornelia whispered, her voice a delicate murmur filled with reassurance and affection.
“Wendy wike wain,” said Wendy, with her lustrous ebony-colored fluff, nestled against Cornelia's stomach, her presence a velvety touch against her skin. The room filled with a soft, contented humming as Wendy expressed her happiness.
Cornelia smiled as her pale fingers traced gentle paths along Wendy's back, their movements a tender caress. Her gaze drifted to the window, where nature orchestrated a symphony of raindrops cascading against the glass. Each droplet carried its own rhythm, harmonizing with the crackling fire to create a symphony of soothing melodies.
As Cornelia admired Wendy, a sense of curiosity began to blossom within her. Were there other fluffies out there with the same unique hue? Elves and wealthy humans often boasted vibrant and diverse-colored fluffies in their care, while the "street-rat" fluffies that roamed alleyways possessed more muted variations. Yet, Wendy's fur was a rarity—pure black that held an air of mystique.
Whispers had spread among the villages, snaking through ears and fuelling imaginations. Tales, distorted and embellished, spoke of a sinister pact between Cornelia and the Demon Vlae. In their twisted narratives, the villagers claimed that the evil spirit-lord resided within Wendy, bestowing upon her the cloak of inky blackness.
Cornelia knew these rumours to be falsehoods, mere figments of overactive imaginations, but that did little to quell the villagers' misguided intentions. Not wanting the villagers to burn her at the stake, Cornelia made a deliberate choice to slip away into the embrace of the ancient woods. There, among the towering sentinels of bark and the rustling tapestry of fallen leaves, she sought solace and a life of peace with Wendy.
Just as Cornelia and Wendy began to settle into a tranquil nap, an insistent knocking on the cabin door shattered the serene atmosphere. The abrupt interruption stirred them from their drowsy state, pulling them back into the realm of uncertainty and peril.
Ygor knocked on the door with the force of a strong but controlled thunder. The heavy wooden door swung open by itself, revealing a flaming shadow with crimson eyes that glare into his very soul.
“You do not disturb a witch’s nap you...” scowled Cornelia but she paused upon seeing a sad yet familiar ogre standing before her.
In the ogre's hands, cradled gently like a fragile treasure, was an injured blue fluffy curled up into a ball. The fluffy's delicate hooves pressed against her belly as she whimpered in pain, her soft cries filling the air with a heart-wrenching melody. The scent of fear and desperation clung to her, mingling with the damp earthiness that permeated the cabin.
Cornelia's piercing gaze softened, her eyes lingering on the wounded blue fluffy nestled in Ygor's hands. The dancing flames of the crackling fireplace painted shifting shadows on her face, accentuating the genuine concern etched across her soft features.
“Ygor?” asked Cornelia, her voice a gentle murmur that wrapped around the room.
“Ygor need help, widdle fluffy hurt” replied Ygor, his voice filled with a mix of deep worry and desperation.
"Bring her inside," Cornelia replied, stepping aside and waited for the giant ogre to enter her home. "Don't worry, the cabin is bigger on the inside," she reassured him, her words imbued with a touch of enchantment.
Ygor carefully stepped into the cabin, his massive form casting long shadows against the sturdy wooden walls. Inside, he found himself awestruck by the magic in the cabin. The air is alive with ethereal energy, a tangible testament to Cornelia's formidable abilities.
With deliberate grace, Ygor approached Cornelia, his every movement infused with cautious tenderness. The crackling flames of the fireplace cast a soft, golden glow that danced and flickered, creating a mesmerizing play of light and shadows across the room.
Cornelia placed a soft, crimson blanket on the smooth surface of the wooden table, its vibrant hue contrasting against the rustic backdrop of the cabin. Cornelia's voice resonated with warmth and reassurance as she spoke; her words carrying the echoes of countless months spent mastering witchcraft.
"It's one of the first spells I had to learn as a witch, so don't worry about trying to fit in," Cornelia assured Ygor, her tone comforting like a soft caress.
"Now, tell me what happened," Cornelia gently prompted, her voice a melodic invitation to share their burdens.
Her empathetic eyes fixed upon Ygor and the poor fluffy, eagerly awaiting their tale of woe. The fire crackled and the raindrops tapped against the window, forming a soothing symphony that seemed to draw the elements closer, eager to listen and offer solace.
“Ygor fed fwuffy raw meat, now fwuffy tummy hurts,” Ygor explained.
“wed’ meat? Fwuffies nu’ eat wed’ meat” Wendy exclaimed, her eyes widened with fear and confusion.
“Put her on the table!” Cornelia's command sliced through the air, her voice resonating with authority as she directed Ygor to carefully place the injured fluffy on the plush red blanket that adorned the sturdy wooden table.
With eager determination, Wendy scurried towards Cornelia. The little fluffy snatched a flask from a nearby shelf. The green liquid concocted from the nearby river and the roots of an ancient tree glowed inside the flask. The aromatic scent of the potion wafted through the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of burning wood. Ygor's sensitive nose caught a hint of bones in the fragrance, causing him to raise an eyebrow in curiosity.
“Ygor smell bones” said Ygor upon picking up a strange scent coming from the flask.
"It's just the potion, Ygor. You can sit near the bookshelf; I'll handle this," reassured Cornelia as she guided Ygor to a seat beside the collection of well-worn tomes. His heavy footsteps resonated against the wooden floor, creating a gentle vibration that shook the nearby furniture.
Meanwhile, Wendy, her ebony-colored fluff rustling with each hurried step, made her way to the kitchen. The soft tapping of her little legs echoed through the cabin, the sound blending with the crackling fire and the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain against the window. Guided by Cornelia's request, Wendy retrieved a bowl of ash and garlic, their distinct scents mingling in the air, creating a heady mixture of earthiness and protection.
Cornelia's hands moved with practiced precision, like a knife gliding through the cloves of garlic as if guided by an invisible force. With each expert stroke, the pungent aroma of freshly cut garlic permeated the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the wooden table.
Once the garlic lay in neat, small pieces, Cornelia turned her attention to the bowl. She poured the green liquid into its depths, a shimmering cascade that glimmered like emerald flames. As the liquid settled, Cornelia's voice hummed with an incantation, her words carrying the weight of ancient knowledge and power.
In an instant, a flicker of green fire sprang to life, dancing atop the surface of the liquid. Its ethereal glow cast a surreal illumination, transforming the ordinary bowl into a vessel of enchantment. Shadows flickered and played upon the cabin walls, as if the very room had become a stage for magic itself.
Ygor's gaze locked onto Blue, his eyes filled with concern as he witnessed her unconscious. Despite her silent state, his sensitive ears detected faint, almost imperceptible whimpering that tugged at his heartstrings.
In a mesmerizing display of magic, a radiant golden light took the form of Cornelia's hand, delicately reaching towards the green flame. As her hand made contact, a breathtaking transformation ensued. The liquid within the bowl seemed to defy gravity, soaring out of its confines with graceful fluidity. It floated in the air, suspended like a glistening bubble, casting an iridescent glow that bathed the cabin in a surreal radiance.
The floating liquid became a canvas for the dancing and shimmering golden light, which traced intricate patterns written in the runes of magic. With every subtle movement and shift, the elixir responded, guided by Cornelia's hand, as if it were alive. The soft, ethereal hum resonated through the cabin, its gentle vibrations filling the air and contributing to the enchanting atmosphere that enveloped the space.
Ygor's eyes widened in awe as he witnessed this captivating spectacle, his senses fully immersed in the enchantment unfolding before him. The delicate scent of the potion wafted through the air, an intoxicating blend of natural ingredients and mystical energies. It mingled with the comforting aroma of burning firewood, creating an olfactory tapestry that enveloped the room.
“Wemembeh’ jus’ one dwop o’ fwuffy fwend goes fowebah sweepies” Wendy reminded, her voice filled with caution and trepidation. The anticipation was palpable, causing her little legs to tremble with a mixture of anxiety and hope.
“I know, Wendy” Cornelia replied with concern. Slowly, with delicate precision, she reached out and began removing the intricately carved magic runes that encircled the floating bubble. Each rune dislodged weakened the magic, and the room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
As the runes dissipated one by one, a single drop from the shimmering green bubble fell into Blue's mouth, like a droplet of life itself. In that fleeting moment, the magic took hold, invigorating her senses and drawing her back from the abyss of unconsciousness. Blue's eyes fluttered open, her vision initially blurry as she adjusted to the renewed world around her. Gradually, the fog lifted, revealing the figure of another fluffy sitting in front of her, a woman with a mysterious allure, half of her face veiled by a cascade of hair, and Ygor, the gentle ogre.
Blue wakes up, her vision blurry at first. When they cleared, she saw another fluffy sitting in front of her, a strange woman with half her face covered by her hair, and Ygor.
"Mommeh?" Blue's voice trembled with a mixture of longing and confusion, seeking comfort in the familiarity of a mother's embrace.
"No, sorry," Cornelia replied gently, her voice carrying a touch of sympathy. With great care, she cradled Blue in her hands, providing a sense of security and protection.
The cabin enveloped them in a cocoon of warmth and safety, shielding them from the world's uncertainties.
"Let's give you a bath before I return you to Ygor, is that okay?" Cornelia offered, her words laced with kindness and concern. Blue nodded, a silent agreement to the caring gesture that awaited her.
As Cornelia cradled Blue in her arms, Ygor's curious gaze wandered to the bookshelf, where a plush velvet tome caught his attention. With a gentle touch, he retrieved the book, feeling the smoothness of the fabric beneath his fingertips. Opening it, Ygor's eyes widened at the sight of a meticulously drawn map, its intricate details beckoning him into a world he's never seen before.
His gaze shifted to the strange numbers inscribed alongside the map, written in elegant script that danced across the aged parchment. Ygor traced the lines and deciphered the enigmatic message contained within.
"Two... tw-twenty-six degrees, twelve minutes, and forty-four seconds, N—No- no- north," Ygor read aloud, his voice filled with curiosity.
Cornelia emerged from the bath, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor, carrying Blue wrapped in a clean towel. Drops of water glistened upon her skin like scattered diamonds, reflecting the warm glow of the cabin's hearth. She approached Ygor, her presence radiating a sense of wisdom and familiarity.
"It seems you've improved since the last time I met you," Cornelia remarked, her voice carrying a tone of admiration.
The scent of lavender lingered in the air, intermingling with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed tea.
“Ygor been reading lots lately, collected many books” Ygor proudly proclaimed. The room resonated with the gentle rustling of pages, as each one whispered a tale of knowledge and discovery.
Gently placing Blue on the floor, Cornelia watched with fondness as the little fluffy’s hooves create a delicate patter against the wooden surface as she scurried towards Ygor. She then nuzzled against his massive leg, seeking solace and comfort. A warm smile graced Cornelia's lips.
"That's truly admirable," Cornelia remarked, her voice carrying a gentle cadence. The crackling fire painted flickering shadows upon the walls, enveloping the space in a comforting embrace. The scent of smoldering logs mingled with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, creating an enchanting symphony for the senses.
“Until the ‘metal people’ burnt them along with Ygor house” Ygor replied, his voice echoed with a touch of sorrow. The weight of his words hung in the air, mingling with the flickering shadows cast by the crackling flames.
"The metal people," Cornelia mused, her thoughts drifting to the relentless knights of The King. The weight of their armored presence pressed upon her mind, like a looming storm cloud on the horizon. The memory of their arrival, their steel-clad boots treading upon the sacred grounds of the Old World, sent shivers down her spine. Their presence had brought upheaval, disrupting the delicate balance of harmony and magic that once thrived.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Cornelia said, her voice laced with sincerity. "You can stay here as long as you need," she assured, her words offering solace and a sense of belonging amidst the uncertainty of the outside world.
“Thank you, Ygor will find new home soon,” Ygor replied. “By the way, Ygor find black fluffy interesting, never seen one before,” he remarked, pointing towards Wendy.
Cornelia followed his gaze, her eyes tracing the ebony contours of Wendy's fur. The contrast of darkness against light evoked a sense of curiosity and wonder.
“I saw her in an alley a couple of months ago while I was gathering ingredients,” Cornelia recalled as she adjusted her favorite chair, drawing it closer to Ygor's seat. Blue and Wendy sat side by side, their eyes filled with anticipation as they listen to the story Cornelia is about to tell.
--NOTE-- A drawing of Wendy

I applied for fall-spring housing, yet it’s changing it to summer B.
Is this for this or next summer? Also, why did this happen?

Used the mod "Personalized Music" to recreate Skyrim soundtrack for a less epic classic rpg orchestra to a soothing ambient music when everything is calm and violent battles when fighting dragons, bosses or in the Civil War questline. The list is in a WIP state btw
Any thoughts or Recommendations?
Music List:
[Blackreach]

01 - Burzum - Der Tod Wuotans 02 - Motionfield - Injection 3 03 - Urfaust - Meditatum I 

[Castle]

01 - Burzum - Moti Ragnarokum 

[Combat]

01 - Elderwind - In the snow 02 - Elderwind - Last winter's night 03 - Elderwind - The approach of spring 04 - Acid Mammoth - Tree of Woe 05 - Acid Mammoth - Tusks of Doom 06 - Afsky - Altid veltilfreds 07 - Afsky - Tyende Sang 08 - Urfaust - Dämmert, gelähmt und mit scheinbar erloschenem Geist 09 - Urfaust - Der halbtoten Dichters Schein-Existenz 10 - Urfaust - Meditatum III 11 - Urfaust - Meditatum VI 12 - Urfaust - Ragnarök Mystiker 13 - Urfaust - Trail of Conscience of the Dead 14 - Urfaust - A Course in Cosmic Meditation 15 - Sun O))) - Ampliphædies (E) 16 - Sun O))) - Aurora 17 - Sun O))) - Candle Goat 18 - Sun O))) - Troubled Air 19 - Sunn O))) - Frost (C) 20 - Boris - Etna 

[Combat - Civil War]

01 - Agalloch - A Celebration for the Death of Man... 02 - Bathory - Home Of Once Brave 03 - Bathory - The Wheel Of Sun 04 - Bathory - One Rode to Asa Bay 05 - Agalloch - Ashes Against the Grain 06 - Agalloch - In The Shadow Of Our Pale Companion 

[Combat - Dragon]

01 - Burzum - Alfadanz 02 - Burzum - Dunkelheit 03 - Burzum - Jeg Faller 04 - Burzum - Valen 05 - Burzum - Glemselens Elv 06 - Burzum - Hit helga Tré 07 - Burzum - Budstikken 08 - Këkht Aräkh - Thorns 09 - Këkht Aräkh - In the Garden 

[Combat - Vampire Lord]

01 - Agalloch - You Were But A Ghost In My Arms 02 - Burzum - Galgviðr 

[DB Combat - Karstaag]

01 - Deafheaven - Dream House 

[DB Combat - Miraak]

01 - Agalloch - Not Unlike The Waves 02 - Agalloch - Bloodbirds 03 - Tim Hecker - The Piano Drop 

[DB Dungeon - Apocrypha]

01 - Merzbow - Mantra (Part I,II,III) 

[Dungeon - Cave]

01 - Trepaneringsritualen - Unclæna Ghast 

[Dungeon - Ice]

01 - Burzum - Tuistos Herz 

[Dwemer]

01 - Tim Hecker - No Drums 

[Explore - All Areas]

01 - Burzum - Channeling The Power Of Souls Into A New God 02 - Burzum - Tomhet 03 - Burzum - Rundgang um die Transzendentale Saule der Singularitat Vic 04 - Burzum - To Hel and Back Again 

[Explore - Day]

01 - Burzum - Emptiness 02 - Shigeo Sekito - the word II 03 - Ulver - Glamour Box 

[Explore - Evening]

01 - Agalloch - The Lodge 02 - Këkht Aräkh - Lily 03 - Tim Hecker - Hatred Of Music II 04 - Tim Hecker - In The Air III 05 - Berserk Soundtrack - 1 Behelit 

[Explore - Forest Fall]

01 - Have a Nice Life - A Quick One Before the Eternal Worm Devours Connecticut 

[Explore - Morning]

01 - Burzum - Autumn Leaves 02 - Aphex Twin - Blue Calx 03 - Aphex Twin - Rhubarb 04 - Këkht Aräkh - Amor 

[Explore - Mountain]

01 - Occult Obsidian - Journey to the Past 

[Explore - Night]

01 - Burzum - Den Onde Kysten 02 - Burzum - Der Weinende Hadnur 03 - Këkht Aräkh - Nocturne 04 - Tim Hecker - Analog Paralysis, 1978 05 - Occult Obsidian - Reincarnation of Fireflies 

[Explore - Snow]

01 - Burzum - Turistos Herz 02 - Këkht Aräkh - Pale Swordsman 03 - Këkht Aräkh - As the Night Falls... 

[Explore - Tundra]

01 - impulseplanter6 - jazz-house 02 - Occult Obsidian - Dust of Fate 

[Falmer Valley]

01 - Burzum - Der Tod Wuotans 02 - Këkht Aräkh - ...And Never Ends (Eternal Love) 03 - Robert Rich - Distant Traveler 04 - Occult Obsidian - Unexpected Treasure 

[Soul Cairn]

01 - Occult Obsidian - The Roots of Eternity 02 - Boris - N.L.T. 03 - Sun O))) - Western Horn 04 - Sunn O))) - Dysnystaxis (... a Chance Meeting with Somnus) 05 - Hollow Men - Between Life and Death - Burial of the Unheard 06 - Tim Hecker - In the Fog I 07 - Tim Hecker - In the Fog II 08 - Tim Hecker - In the Fog III 

[Tavern - All]

01 - Burzum - God from the Machine 02 - Burzum - Die Liebe Nerhus' 03 - Burzum - Frijos Einsames Trauern 04 - Burzum - Han Som Reiste 05 - Këkht Aräkh - Mysteriet Med Svartfiolett 

[Temple]

01 - Tre Flip - you will never find me 02 - Occult Obsidian - Black Necklace 03 - Occult Obsidian - Denied Truth 04 - Occult Obsidian - Yore 05 - Occult Obsidian - Dying on the Ancestral Land 

[Town - Day]

01 - Occult Obsidian - Feeling of Knowledge 

[Vampire Castle]

01 - Född Död - De Ensammas Hus 02 - Bauhaus - Bela Lugosi's Dead 03 - Beethoven - Symphony No.7 in A major op.92 - II, Allegretto 

I just got a heavy bag, it doesn't look very big (just got it from my uncle) - a Lonsdale bag that's about 70cm long.
I would like to fix it to the concrete wall (between my neighbour and my house).
Would something like this be suitable?
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Punching-Hanger-Bracket-Workout-Fitness/dp/B09873MWRC/ref=asc_df_B09873MWRC/?tag=googshopuk-21&linkCode=df0&hvadid=529054254361&hvpos=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=1403072344247402170&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=m&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9044955&hvtargid=pla-1378048278390&psc=1
Also, should I get heavy duty springs to reduce the pressure on the wall?
Thank you chaps!

Small gripe, but military members get TSA-Precheck so we can get through security lines a little faster. However, I've flown out of Colorado Springs airport 3 times in the past two years and my USSF ID has never worked on their system. The lines are usually short, so it's not a big deal, but do other airports have this issue?

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I grew up visiting family abroad and doing exchange programs in high school. I wanted to move to London in 6th grade and my first taste of living abroad was in Prague and Italy during college. I absolutely loved it and knew I’d move abroad one day. I moved to Myanmar right after I graduated but 10 months later Covid hit and I had to move home. I spent the first year of covid studying language, taking a TEFL course, and getting my EU citizenship through family lineage, preparing myself to move abroad again. …then I fell in love. I love my partner, I liked living in Chicago way more now that I could explore it with him. He’s from an immigrant background and also has a lot of beef with America and wanted to move. We looked into moving to Europe but it’s way harder to move if you’re not an EU citizen so we decided to move to a beautiful state in the US that we’ve been enjoying much of the time. The first couple of months I was finding it inadequate and knowing I’d move to Europe eventually. By winter (they’re grey and cold here) we were planning on how to move out by the summer. Come spring, I realize that I’ve actually formed community here and even though it’s a small city in a rural state, it’s super international with lots of Asian and African immigrants. I realized that I can having the international friendships I long for right here. I love the community of kids I work with too. I think the US sucks but I’ve found people who also think that and have a joined racial justice group and an international peace group. I’ve been making friends here and the nature and lifestyle here are really nice. There’s a housing crisis though and the economy of the US sucks. Also the big kicker is that I rescued parakeets and I don’t want to leave them so I’d have to wait until they die which would hopefully be a while from now. This was when I really started to feel like moving abroad might not happen.
It’s so confusing for me to grapple with possibly settling. Im nervous I’ll be bored but also I think I can create a possibly more fulfilling life by rooting down and creating community, being politically active, and trying not to long for the next big thing.
I’m wondering if anyone else has come to this conclusion? I ought to leave this group I guess cuz it was giving me FOMO but all the posts about loneliness and isolation are making me feel that less.

Long story short: about to be installing my fifth oil filter housing assembly in eight months.
The Jeep: 2016 RHD JK with 100k+ miles, used for mail delivery that I've owned for four years. Using Mobil 1 5W-20 High Mileage Synthetic before the new engine which has had whatever Mopar oil the dealership put in. Also, I do use a torque wrench to tighten the filter to 18 ft. lbs. at every oil change, which I've been doing around every 3,000 miles because of the intense use.
I came home one day in October 2022 and noticed something that caught my eye on the garage floor underneath my Jeep. I looked and there was oil running underneath my Jeep on the backside of the oil pan and along where the inspection plugs are at on the bell housing, and had the transmission pan covered. I looked in the engine bay and I could tell the valve cover gaskets were wet (this will become somewhat relevant later). I checked the dipstick and noticed I was down a half-quart of oil. I got in touch with a local shop that has a good rep within my small community and the mechanic said it wasn't my valve covers, that I had an oil filter housing leak that was just running along the valve cover. I wanted him to do the work because I wasn't super-eager about reassembling the intake and I needed new spark plugs anyways (this will also come back later), so that overlaps well enough. It took him a month to get around to it, I drove my backup a lot in the meantime, and the bill for spark plugs and the oil filter ended up being $660. That's how I got Oil Filter Housing #2.
But the Jeep kept leaking oil.
I took it back to the local mechanic the next chance I got, a couple of weeks later. He said he'd look at it that day, I guess he did, and assured me it was probably old oil that was still stuck along the way. I was skeptical; after probably fifty hours of use, any old oil should have run off or burned off a bit ago. The Jeep keeps on leaking oil, even after I do an oil change. I take it back and the local mechanic pours some dye in and tells me to come back in a day and he will look and see if it's still leaking fresh oil. Local mechanic finds that it is and he reinstalls the oil filter housing, free of charge to me.
We had a wet and icy winter in the central US that kept the garage floor and the bell housing and the transmission pan cleaned off so I didn't notice a lot of oil getting on the floor but I did have to keep the Jeep topped off, losing a quart about every 1500 miles. I'm figuring that's not super unusual for a Pentastar with 100k+ on the clock and I'm busy and don't have time to have the Jeep laid up in the weather that I bought it for. When spring comes around I start to notice the leak again. At this point I'm starting to suspect a rear main seal more than oil filter housing but the inspection holes are still dry.
One weekend in March, I did an oil change on a Sunday afternoon. The next day (Monday, the perfect day of the week for this to happen), I'm heading out to load my Jeep and I notice a gigantic puddle of something underneath my Jeep. It looks to me like the front crankshaft seal just pissed itself. I feel the puddle and the liquid is slick, like oil. It's also barely above 32F outside, and all the liquid I can see is running underneath the crankshaft pulley. Oil stick still looks OK though. I panic drive the Jeep back home and get it in the garage, put a mat under it, get my backup and do my route. I try to get a local shop (the one I went to before or any others within ten miles, which is about as far as I estimate it can go) to see if they can get my Jeep in but they refuse to take it because they are too busy. I call a Jeep dealership a couple of towns over that has a good reputation (as opposed to the one a town over, but owned by the same company, that doesn't) and have it towed there. I tell them about the immediate problem and the oil leak I've been having. The service advisor, who I have to say is one of the better ones I've ever worked with on anything, calls me back and tell me that it wasn't the crank seal, it was the water pump. They also noticed I had some rocker arms going bad. I tell them that I had noticed that too (I had always heard that Jeep dealerships wouldn't look at rockers until a check engine light came on otherwise I'd have taken care of this a year or two ago) and that they would replace those. The oil leak looked to be coming out of the oil filter housing and the valve covers (the same thing I thought six months ago). To skip ahead through a couple of phone calls, the rockers on the left bank of the Pentastar were also bad and a cam over there was damaged. I could have all of that repaired for $5300 or just install a reman engine + the oil filter housing for around $8k, which would include a three year, 100k mile parts & labor warranty. After thinking about what else could continue going wrong, I ended up telling them to put a reman in. I get over to the dealership to pick up my Jeep after it's all said and done and the SA says "Oh, we had to put new spark plugs in, the old ones were junk and weren't really for that vehicle." My opinion of the trusted local mechanic really has gone downhill but I'm thrilled to have all of their bullshit behind me. That's the story of how I got Oil Filter Housing #3.
Things are going fine with the Jeep, not hearing any crazy noises, but it does occur to me to check the oil after about 1,000 miles. I check and it's about a half-quart low. My eyebrows are raised but I think, "well maybe the dealership only put 5.5 quarts in." I top it off with some Mobil 1 I had around, and continue on as normal. After about 2600 miles on the new motor, I decide to check it again and the oil level is barely registering on the dipstick. I look underneath the Jeep and the back of the pan and the bell housing are all covered with oil again (nothing's on the transmission pan, curiously enough). I look up top and I can see oil coming out below where the filter is (which I haven't even touched on this engine). I top off the Jeep (with Mobil 1 again, which I thought about but that didn't make the Jeep oil level low to start with), call the dealership, and they conclude that it is oil filter housing and they replace the oil filter housing and change the oil, all under warranty and it didn't cost me a dime. That's Oil Filter Housing #4.
I got my Jeep back Wednesday of last week. Besides driving it home, I drove my backup vehicle on Thursday and drove the Jeep on the route on Friday & Saturday (yesterday). There's an empty church parking lot I usually stop at and re-sort and reorganize my parcels in. I decided to have a peek underneath just to check things out and sure enough, right on the bottom side of the bell housing once again. I'm going to be calling the dealership back first chance I get this week, so I guess this will be Oil Filter Housing #5.
So that's the full background.
My question is, are there any other causes for this besides just coincidentally bad workmanship spread across multiple mechanics and companies, or have Mopar parts quality just gotten this bad? Is there anything I can bring up to the Jeep SA that might be making these oil filter housing assemblies fail? I'm completely out of ideas here.

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The Order of Prince Yaroslav the Wise, fifth class, is the highest rank a Ukrainian foreign national can achieve. Its newest inductee is back home in Florida and has been in the shower so long he’s lost track of time. His feel for the present moment will return in about thirty seconds when the hot water runs out. His hair has been both shampooed and conditioned. His body throughly soaped. It’s the shower’s warm solitude he cannot leave. There is plenty to do today; an interview at a radio station at eleven, lunch with his sponsor, an early dinner at his mom’s pastor’s. All of them want to know more about his experience overseas, they want to know how the war is progressing, they want to hear how he went from Highland Hills High School to war hero. What they don’t want to hear, what David does not want to hear, is how cold his new found notoriety makes him feel. Before can explore his melancholy any further, the hot water goes. The steam rising above the shower clears as a lukewarm solution rinses the remaining soap and warmth off David’s body. He remembers taking similarly cold showers in Ukraine, and how happy he was to have them. It’s shocking how clean a man can get with a half full bucket of water and a couple of towels.
“Ah look at Abie! Clean enough for a Russian bitch.” says Bone in his thick provincial accent. Words David can’t remember Bone actually saying or they only sound like something he would say. Sitting around waiting for mechanics, waiting on orders, waiting on food, waiting on the Russians to start shooting, David didn’t know war could be so boring. The only thing Bone said he liked more than killing Russians was fucking them. The rest of the guys in the platoon knew Bone was probably lying, but he was their instructor, and they were the international volunteers, so he was never questioned. He was the only person in their platoon who spoke Russian and Ukrainian and English. One guy, this kid from Belgium, called Bone a cunt after failing to pull the pen on a grenade during a training exercise, and Bone gave it to him.
“What is this? You do not have to pull pens in Belgium? Or do you like to give your enemies the grenade so they can throw it back?” said Bone. He then effeminately ran around the kid saying, “Here Mr. German. Take my grenade. They are loud and I am afraid.” Bone comes back to his real voice. “Killing Russians is no different than driving a truck. It is your job. Don’t think. Don’t be like this Belgian. Pull the pin. Kill Russians.” The Belgian kid said something to Bone but no one knew what it was because no one spoke French. This didn’t stop Bone from hitting him in the face so hard it broke his nose. The kid quit later that day, and Bone got written up which David told him is like a kid being put in timeout during a house invasion.
“What is this time out?” Bone asked.
The water is cold so David gets out. In the kitchen his mother goes over the day’s itinerary again, just to be thorough she adds.
“Do you know where you are going David? No, sorry. Do you know where you are going Abie?” she asks as David grabs a breakfast banana.
“Yes ma’am.”
“You know parking can be difficult downtown. Be sure to take quarters for the meter.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“And be sure to be yourself. I hope they are nice to you. You know how the media likes to spin things these days. I don’t think they are too liberal but don’t let them put words in your mouth. If they ask you something you don’t want to answer, you just say ‘No comment'. You just tell your story. You are a hero. And then you’ll meet with Fred, and then dinner at Pastor's. Be there at four. If it’s ok with you I’m going to bring the medal. Pastor will want to see it. He’s a big fan of Zelensky.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Ok. Enough doting. That’s all you’re getting out to me today. Are you excited? Isn’t this exciting? News Radio 950 is doing a story about you. They want to hear about their local war hero…and that’s you. Give me a hug and get going before you are late.”
“Yes ma’am.”
In his car, David listens to Domination by Pantera at full volume. The heavy riffs, screaming and terrifying drums raise his spirit. Bone used to play it all the time. David hasn’t prepared anything for save his memory of his time in Ukraine. Perhaps Bone is giving an interview somewhere? You didn’t do anything wrong, he tells himself as he opens the station’s door. Inside he finds an attractive, young woman named Sara who has been emailing him for the past several weeks.
“Nice to officially meet. Right this way.”
David does his best not to stare at her as she leads him through corridor of offices and hallways.
“She looks nice. Go into an office with her.” says Bone.
“We’ve all been looking forward to having a more in-depth conversation with you. Our programming producer, who is also named David, will be asking you most of the questions. But I begged him to let me ask some too, so you might say I will also be interviewing you. I hope that’s ok?”
Sara’s blonde hair folds into a neat part on the left side of her head. David pictures her styling it in her bathroom, in a bathrobe. It’s been a while since he has smelled perfume. He found a bottle in an abandoned apartment in Zaporizhzhia and kept it. It had some Chinese lettering he couldn’t read, but it smelt nice. Some of the guys teased him when they found it saying he was going to attract Russian because he smelt like an Asian. Sara’s perfume smells expensive and French. She introduces him to David the producer and the three of them find three seats on the end of a conference room table. Sara sits on the same side as David. After introductions, David starts the interview by saying even though he is not sure exactly when the piece will air, he is certain it will before the end of the month. He then adds something about how David is a hero for doing what he did.
“So tell us how you found yourself in Ukraine?”
“Well it was pretty easy really. I went online and volunteered for the IVB, that was the name of my unit, the International Volunteer Brigade. I don’t think I talked to a real person until I booked my flight to Poland. It was mostly just forms I was filling out online. So yeah it was pretty easy. So I landed in Krakow and my recruiter picked me up. I stayed in a hotel for a few days while we waited on a couple more guys to show up. One was from Spain, another from Portugal. The Portuguese guy never showed, or if he did he didn’t come with us. I guess he could have volunteered with another outfit. I guess that’s the thing about the war I didn’t really expect. We were always just kinda losing people. And I don’t mean they were killed, although a lot of them were. I mean guys would just be with you one minute and gone the next. And then you’d find them a week later and I go, ‘Where have you been?’ ‘Oh I’ve been in Dnipro’ or ‘Oh I got picked up by the Regs.’ It was crazy. The only place where that didn’t happen was the front.”
“Who do you mean by ‘the Regs?’” asks David.
“The regular army. The Ukrainians. The good guys we were there to help. Sometimes they would be short a man so they’d just nab one of the volunteers. That was a bad gig. The Ukrainians wanted their most motivated guys fighting in the worst places. I only had to do it a couple of times, but…it was not something I did and wanted to do again. ”
David rubs his hand over his arm. He can’t smell the hot blonde anymore, only trench dirt and gun oil. The soil of Donetsk had a deep brown color to it he always enjoyed. Even with snipers supposedly in the area, digging was one of his favorite jobs. The earth smelled vibrant, full of worms and nitrogen and reminded him of his granddad, coming in from a day of field work, his jeans and boots caked in a rich layer of his land.
“So tell us what is it like being a hometown celebrity?” asks Sara. “You’re from here so people already know you, but what’s it like now? I mean now, gosh, everyone i know has been talking about this kid from Highland who won a medal from Zelensky. Did you get to bring it by the way? You were on the national news. It was NBC, but still…”
A bouquet of scents and questions. David looks across the room and sees Bone sitting with a heavy slouch in a chair at the other end of the conference table. He looks rough; still alive but not by much. He sits holding his side, his chin on his chest.
“It’s neat I guess. I walk down the street and people call my name. I take lots of pictures with people. Everyone is really nice. I felt like I was kinda a wallflower before.It’s something I think lots of people think about experiencing. I know I did, I just never thought it would be for this.”
“What did you want to be when you were a boy?” asks Sara.
“I don’t know. The normal stuff; doctor, fireman, my Dad was in sales, so not that. I think about it a lot. I think mostly I just wanted to be good. I didn’t like getting into trouble.”
“Oh my gosh, I was the exact same.” says Sara. Then durning her boss she adds “David, I don’t know if you knew this about me and this David, but we actually went to Highland High at the same time. I was a senior when you would have been a freshman, but I swear I remember you. I thought you were cute.”
“Don’t be trying to steal my assistant Dave. Can I call you Dave?”
“David’s fine.”
Bone perks up and tells them to call him Abie
“Ok so let’s get back on track. You’re over there, you’re fighting Russians, you’re helping the Ukrainians, can you tell us, what was that like?”
“What is war like?”
“Yeah the war, but you’re doing a good thing. You volunteered to help an oppressed people, to fight against tyranny, something I think our listeners think our government should have done a long time ago. But while our President sits on his ass, you bravely go do the thing that needs be done. God it must have been exhilarating, but I don’t know, I don’t want to put words in your mouth.”
Bone lays his head back on the desk and says something David can’t quite make out but thinks he knows what his commander is saying.
“Meta.”
“What?” asks David.
“It’s a Ukrainian word I learned while over there. It means purpose, but more than just doing a job, it’s your calling. It’s a word the priests with the beards use a lot. Everyday I knew exactly what was expected of me and what I could expect from everyone around me. I had clarity for the first time in my life. I felt like I could see for miles in every direction, like sitting on the roof watching all the cars going by.”
Bone stands up out of his chair and walks out of the office.
“Even when I was scared I knew that was to be expected. And when I was tired, I knew that too was to be expected. And when I was hungry, and wet, and cold, and angry enough to kill. I knew that too was to be expected because war is a cauldron. Everything gets boiled into a singularity. It’s terrifying but also pretty damn motivating. What sucks is that I can already feel everything starting to get cloudy again.”
Leaning his belly against the table, David leans in to ask his next question as if he does not want to be heard.
“Did you, you know…and this will be off the record…did you kill anyone else?”
Sara places her empty hand on the table, an offering for David to hold should his answer prove too much. But David knows the answer is not too much for his has thought of little else.
“Nope. Just the one.”
After another few minutes of hearing how brave he has been, how proud his family must be and how grateful the station is to have him come in, the interview is over. The producer shakes David’s hand and Sara walks him out. She mentions that friends of her’s are going to a new bar in the Depot and suggests David should come too. He says he can come but it will be late because he has dinner plans. “That’s ok. I’ll be there pretty late.”
—————————
Only a few blocks from the radio station, David pulls into a Waffle House parking lot. There is condensation on the windows of the building and cigarette butts near the door. Nothing here breathes well, David notes. Inside he finds his old sponsor sitting at booth by himself. David sees Fred before Fred sees him and for a moment considers leaving. However, he sees Bone sits in the corner of the restaurant, smiling and looking to flirt with a chubby waitress with grown sons.
“How the hell are you Abie?” says Fred. No turning back now.
“Sober for today.”
“Me too.”
The pair order eggs, toast and bacon. The cook makes each of them a waffle on the house after recognizing David. He finishes his plate before Fred can finish a piece of toast. Meals happen quick on the battlefield and David can’t seem to slow himself down long to enjoy his food. Bone is no longer in the corner. David sees him moving around the room; following an old lady into the restroom. He comes out with a grotesque look on his face. “That little woman took the biggest shit I’ve ever seen! Abie, come and look at it. It won’t flush. Call in a drone strike. We are going to have to pull back!”
“So” says Fred, “Mr. War Hero, how are you really? You’ve got recognition, a war recommendation, you’re doing interviews, you still got your sobriety. Life seems to be going well, but…”
“How I am really?” When he was in NA Fred could always sniff out if he was high. As his sponsor that was his job, but David never liked it. I know you say you’re fine, but how are your really. Effective, but crude. Fred taps his finger to the tip of his nose. Bingo kid. David looks around the room for Bone but doesn’t find him.
“I’m good man. Things are going well. Everyone always asks me how I’m doing, but I’m really fine. I honestly don’t feel much different than when I left. Same shit different day you know? Girls come up to me now, so that’s different I guess. So…yeah…things are good. Still sober. No real temptation to go back down that road. Been working the Steps since I got back. Doing the work. I didn’t even think about getting high when I was over there. I’m serious. Not once. I’ve got a therapist that I’m seeing. She’s really smart. And I get to see her for free. It’s part of some rehabilitation program from the federal government. I’m moving out of my Mom’s soon. I found an apartment through the church she goes to. There is a guy there who owns a bunch of places and he hooked me up with a really nice place for really cheap. He gave us a really good deal on it. The same guy said I could come work for him too when I felt I was ready. He has a real estate business and said he is always looking for new realtors. With my story, he told me, he thinks I could to really well.”
Bone sits in the booth next to Fred. His face his clean, empty. Without blinking, moving or saying anything he stares at David; human mirror he is unsure is alive or dead, in a Waffle House in Florida or an expensive dirty tank in Ukraine.
“But then I think, do I really wanna use my story to sell real estate? Some douchebag buys an apartment I’m selling him because I killed a Russian general. That’s not why I went over there. And who would even ask me to that? They don’t know what it was like. They make it seem like going over there was no big deal, that killing generals is something that happens all the time, or that the war is going well. Really man, I got so lucky with that shot. I’ve had trained snipers tell me they probably couldn’t hit a target at that range. But I did. I did that and I know I could never do it again. Even if I could, I don’t know if I’d want to. I didn’t know that guy. I mean I now know a bunch of stuff about him, but it’s only what I’ve been told. They told me that he supported Putin from the beginning and that a lot of the war planning was his idea. Ok. If you say so Bone. But I looked this guy up, he has a wikipedia page, and a wife, and kids, probably grandkids. I don’t know if his family is proud of him or not, but I know they will never see him again. And then just the charade of it all. So I got to meet the Ukrainian War Minister, Zelensky’s right hand man. Still not worth it. There’s just nothing noble or romantic about it. It’s all just a cold, black hole that runs on death and killing and for some reason you have to look at it…at least I do. I suppose I thought at some point I would see something. Never did though.”
Bone breaks his stare and cracks a smile.
“And for who, for what Fred? What is going to happen when all of this is over other than the same thing that happens after every war. A cabal of erudite assholes are going to meet in an overly secure room in the Netherlands and draw a new line in between Ukraine and Russia which is exactly what those same assholes did seventy years ago, and seventy years before that, and in seventy years we’ll do the same thing all over again. Wash, rinse and repeat. That line makes about as much sense as the first day of Spring. Sure, there is an official first day of Spring, March 20th or whatever, but we all know that there was some really warm days before the 20th and there is going to be some real cold days afterwards. But the 20th is the official day. It doesn’t make Spring happen. It just kinda helps sense out of a blurry situation. It wasn’t two days after getting there I realized the whole thing is so complicated. Half the regs were guys who had either lived in Russia at some point, gone to school there mostly, or had family living there. It felt like trying to break up a fight at a family reunion, only everyone is holding ARs as they argue about whether or not the 20th is the first day of Spring. The conflict goes back so far you can’t make out the start. And the profiteering my god, that’s what really gets me. Just like that asshole who wants to use the war to sell real estate, all the arms manufacturers who are pouring guns and bullets and tanks into Ukraine, propping this war machine so they can win another government contract. It’s sick. The people running those companies have the first available seat in hell. And Putin too. He started this whole mess. First him, then a nice row of CEOs and shareholders, that’s who I want to in hell. And there is never talk of any alternative. None. Not even a whisper. Just two sides trying to exhaust the other for a better seat at the bargaining table.”
Bone gets up to leave, but not before stretching his back, revealing a large, dark red stain in his uniform, just above his waist line.
“So here I am in all my hometown glory.” says David, “The renown Prince of the Order of the Ukrainian Shit-Show.”
There is a wet spot on David’s pants which he is not sure how it got there. He looks at Bone who is already out the door and running down the street. It’s ok, David thinks to himself, I know where he is going. ———————————————— At the 7-11 next to Waffle House David buys two tall boys and two shots of Jack. He pours the whiskey into the cans and kills the second one as he pulls into Pastor’s driveway where several Mercedes, Teslas and BMWs are parked. David clears his throat, spits into the bushes and unwraps a stick of gum. He enters the house after two hard knocks.
“Oh I think that is him.” David hears his mom say after shutting the large, dark front door. She comes around the corner of the corridor to tell him he is late and to take his shoes off.
“But my socks don’t match.”
“Well take those off too! Pastor just put down new carpet.”
“Ah well, since there is new carpet involved. Let’s not walk on the new carpet.”
The rest of the dinner party comes around the corridor in their socks. Each of them personally thanks David for coming and for his service. The men shake his hand. The women all give him hugs. By the end of introductions David has met two bankers, two retirees, and handful of housewives, as well as two more pastors and their wives. Bone is the last to shake his hand. He tells Abie he smells like old lady perfume. Elenor, Pastor’s wife, takes David’s arm, sliding her’s underneath his, leading him into their recently renovated kitchen. The rest of the group follows.
“Well dinner is almost ready. As we wait, why don’t you tell us about Ukraine.”
“Leave him alone Ellie,” says Pastor, “maybe he’s tired of talking about it.”
“I don’t mind.” says Abie. “I don’t mind telling people about blowing some Russian guy’s head off.”
“David Absalom!”
“It’s ok Mom. Yeah so I saw this column of tanks approaching our trench, which ran parallel to this road running west outta Horlivka. I don’t think they knew it was there, or if they did know, they sure as shit didn’t know we were in it, which was weird because we’d been trading fire with them all day. We were all scared shitless. It was only me and Jizzy and Bone. Right Bone? Oh yeah, it wasn’t Jizz it was that kid from Croatia. The one who fucking just ran off one day. I don’t remember his name. Anyways, Bone tells us to all be real still, play like we are dead. So this entire tank column passes by us. Takes for fucking ever. Couldn’t have been more than an hour, but it felt like ten. Finally it starts to let up you know, the last tank passes. So Bone takes the radio and tries to find a spot to call it in. As he is doing that I see the last tank, which was what Bone, about four hundred yards from us? Anyway, he comes to a stop, and out pops the unluckiest son of bitch in the whole war. The General gets out to take a piss, I take aim, figuring I’ll just scare him. And yeah. Bam. Headshot. He didn’t feel a thing; killed him with his dick in his hand. Speaking of which…if you will excuse me.”
“The bathroom is back down the hallway, first door on your left.” says Pastor.
“Is it a full bath?” ask Abie.
“Three-quarter.”
“Close enough.”
No one looks him in the eye, no one except Bone and Pastor. The bathroom has been redone in the same tile as the kitchen. David takes off his clothes, turns the steel knob in the shower to red, sits one floor and waits for the water to get warm.

[Claim Information at the Bottom]
Centuries Since Liberation

The Kingdom of Asmanakashra

On a cool summer evening, a gathering of children formed a semicircle around the amber fire, eyes filled with a mix of wonder and excitement. Having entered their 10th year, the boys, girls, and ashten of Jorchiktele were finally old enough to hear the history of their kingdom, including its less savory aspects. As the young ones began to settle around her hearth, the high priestess Ajarma smiled to herself. The story of liberation was her favorite tale to sing. Once everyone was accounted for, her eyes widened as she became animated and her bracelets of iron, copper, and stone jangled together to form their rhythmic clangor. Performing the dance passed down for generations, the priestess began to sing Asmanakashra’s epic of liberation.
“Long ago we worked the mines,”
“Forced to toil akin to beasts.”
“Ancestors from far and wide brought in chains,”
“Unity under the crack of whips.”
“Spirits remained unbroken,”
“Even as bodies collapsed.”
“As we worked we learned,”
“Of gifts placed by the Gods.”
“As we dug deeper and deeper,”
“The bountiful mountains sheltered us.”
“One day the lowland devils,”
“Grew too weak to whip us.”
“Metal in hand we caved their skulls,”
“A people finally freed.”
“Now their bones pave our mountain paths,”
“And their blood grows our wine.”
“We honor our sacred freedom,”
“Praise the Mountains, the King, and the Mines!”
Her performance caused a raucous response from the young audience, who answered the end of her sacred tale with a chorus of oaths:

“Praise the Mountains, the King, and the Mines! Praise the Mountains, the King, and the Mines! Praise the Mountains, the King, and the Mines!”

Sanctification

King Damiharthro of Anagekh, his high priestess Ajarma and an assortment of porters were nearing the final stop of their annual tour of the kingdom. It was nearing the end of the harvest season, and chilled weather was sure to follow. In his youth, King Damiharthro had enjoyed traversing the beautiful hills surrounding his village, but as old age made his body weary even simple tasks like riding his horse were becoming difficult. Even as the evening sun warmed the hillsides and colored his white wool shawl, Damiharthro felt a chill deep in his bones. To age truly is a curse, he thought to himself. Thankfully, this was the last stop on his final tour as king, after which he could finally rest his weary bones.
Damiharthro and his entourage crested a small ridge, and on the other side they found their destination. The village of Keshthrute sat nestled between the ridge and the imposing base of a mountain, with a small brook bubbling through the village’s center. Southwest of Keshthrute and at the intersection of ridge and stoneface was the mine that had given Keshthrute its name. Before liberation, the Keshthrute mine had exported copper far abroad, feeding the war machines of empires far from these sacred lands. After liberation, Keshthrute followed the example of her fellow mine-clans and continued operations, albeit with less demand and under significantly better conditions. After all, the Gods did not fill their mountain homes with metal so it could go unused. Outside Keshthrute’s low stone wall, a man in traditional earth tone wool greeted Damiharthro and his assistants. The man bowed to his king, before declaring,
“I am Nakabno of Keshthrute, the beto of the Keshthrute mine-clan. May your ground be stable.”
“May your ground be stable.” King Damiharthro replied. “Let the sanctification ritual begin.”
Thereafter, the priestess Ajarma led the procession. First they visited Keshthrute’s village shrine at the center of the town square, a squat stone table with a chunk of copper ore embellished at the center of the table’s surface. Upon hearing her sacred chants, the townsfolk surrounding the party cheered. Then they visited the highest point in town, where Ajarma offered her prayers to the herders. At this time of year, many of the shepherds had already migrated east for warmer weather, so prayers at Keshthrute’s highest point were meant to carry across the wind and find their intended target. Next Ajarma arrived at the town’s vineyard. Keshthrute was too high in elevation for the best wine production, but the small grapes received Ajarma’s blessing nonetheless. By this point Damiharthro was fighting off the desire to fall asleep while still riding his horse, but he knew the most important part of the ritual still had yet to be conducted.
Ajarma, Damiharthro, and Nakabno and the other members of the procession finally arrived at the mine just as the sun was sinking beneath the mountain. Ajarma pulled out the sacred mashthra, a thin and slightly concave plate of iron. After a moment, she took her wooden staff and struck the face of the mashthra. The metallic clang reverberated off the mountain face, and the sound resonated well into the ravines beyond. For a moment there was silence, as Ajarma used her mythic intuition to interpret the sound of wood striking metal. Having interpreted the echos, Ajarma told the assembly,
“The Gods favor Keshthrute, but be warned as this year’s winter will be severe. In spring this chill will haunt you, do not plant until later in the season.”
And with that, the augury and sanctification were over. Damiharthro privately had many reservations about the auguries, as he knew they were not always correct. Such was the fickle will of the Gods he supposed.
Before leaving, Nakabno approached Damiharthro with a serene smile on his face. “May your ground be stable, King Damiharthro of Anagekh.”
“And may your ground be stable, Nakabno of Keshthrute. I believe I shall see you this winter?”
“As is my duty,” Nakabno replied.

Lord of the Mine-Clans

Nakabno rode through the chilled winter night as snow quietly settled around him. In Keshthrute snow storms were larger and more frequent, but down here the falling flakes maintained their blissful serenity without a hint of danger. He had always enjoyed the snow, but he certainly would not mind the more mild winters of Jorchiktele. Just as this thought crossed his mind, the fires of the capitol became visible through the darkness. Thankfully he would not have to spend another night camped along the mountain paths, and he would arrive on time if only barely. An extra day’s delay might not have hurt his chances, but it is always difficult to discern what will contribute to the other betya’s considerations.
Jorchiktele had always been an imposing city, situated between two rivers and with mountains to its north and south. The most prominent hill is the eponymous Jorchiktele, which towers over the settlement from the southwest. From the north and the west, the Mitele and Atuare rivers come together to form the Ishtene River, and wheat fields blanket the small valley. When the basin along the Ishtene gives way to the gradually increasing face of Jorchiktele, the wheat fields transform into terraces, although these earthworks do not extend more than two-hundred feet above their lowland counterparts. Above the terraces come squat clay houses, where the majority of Jorchiktele’s people lived. These abodes had a single doorway in and out, and were constructed from the clay sediments harvested in the basin below. Above the clay homes are the stone houses of the merchants and landowners. While they have the influence to live in larger homes of polished sandstone, they pale in comparison to the estates granted to betya. Near the summit of Jorchiktele, these complexes had multiple levels and are built out of the finest stone in the region. They are often accented with gold and copper, two ores long associated with the nobility. Just beneath the final summit are two perfectly square buildings, cast in an amber hue as the flames of a thousand torches lick the polished granite surfaces. Even from this distance, Nakabno could see the metallic iconography catching in the light of the flames, a symbol of authority as resolute as the ground beneath his feet. Even after having visited multiple times, Nakabno was in awe riding towards Asmanakasha’s largest settlement. He hoped that he would soon be able to call it home.
Upon entering the city itself, an attendant led Nakabno to his local estate. As a beto Nakabno was entitled to stay in the luxurious structure while he was visiting the capitol, which far outshone his living quarters back in Keshthrute. The dimensions of his estate, given its position near the summit of the mountain, should have been impossible. Much like the other buildings of Jorchiktele, Nakabno’s temporary abode was partially built into the mountainside, sitting atop a manufactured plot of level ground. Nakabno always privately wondered if these would slide down the mountain-face, but he did not dare question his countrymen’s craftsmanship. Despite these concerns Nakabno had a wonderful night’s sleep, and around noon donned his ceremonial woolen robes to ascend the cobblestone path towards the Royal Palace.
After being ushered in by royal attendants, Nakabno found himself at the center of the palatial complex. The sturdy roof that covered the majority of the building gave way to an open circular courtyard, dotted with fire pits to keep the participants warm in the winter air. Alongside the lack of roofing, the polished granite floors of the palace were replaced with the bare earth of the mountain. Arranged in a circle were a collection of wooden seats and a single floor mat, all of which were empty when Nakabno had arrived. Early once again, that must count for something, he thought to himself.
As noon drew closer, the other betya entered the courtyard. Following them was Ajarma, the priestess of Jorchiktele, and finally King Damiharthro of Anagekh. In the few months since Nakabno had last seen the aged King, his eyes had become even more sunken, and his arms looked like branches in the depths of winter. He had already shed the royal white robes, but atop his head he still wore the Royal Crown. The King waddled to his rightful place on the floor mat, and Ajarma helped him take his seat. Despite his decrepit appearance, King Damiharthro wore a proud smile. After all, his burdens in life were about to be lightened at last.
Once everyone had arrived, Ajarma stepped into the center of the circle. Striking her mashthra and listening to it’s holy resonance, Ajarma announced with a thundering voice,
“The Gods have willed the selection of our next King, deliberation has begun!”
With this announcement, the many betya took their opportunities to speak during their allotted time. Each of these men had been elected in a similar process by their Mine-Clans, whether due to their work ethic, personal charisma, or raw talent when it came to mining and smelting. In addition to these qualities, the men were now to be judged by their administrative careers as well. King Damiharthro heard the arguments of the betya with increasing disinterest, it was clear this long process was wearing out the already weak King. Nonetheless, he remained awake long enough to hear all of the betya make their pitches, after which the debates began.
It was now up to the representatives to pick the leader they would rally behind through a voting process. The new King would require all other members to vote for him, so as could be imagined the selection process could last days or even weeks. Before Nakabno got a second opportunity to speak, the winter sun had already set, signaling the end of the day’s discussions. The betya left the courtyard and headed to their respective manors for the night, but as they say politics do not sleep. Nakabno spent the night hosting a grand celebration for his fellow betya, hoping that his own personal charisma would be enough to secure his place as the King of Asmanakashra.
Four days after deliberation had begun, Nakabno's plan had paid off. Upon entering the courtyard, everyone in attendance agreed to vote for their pleasant host. King Damiharthro, having seen Nakabno’s success only months prior, agreed with the verdict. After the striking of the mashthra, Ajarma carefully removed the Royal Crown from Damiharthro’s head and placed it on Nakabno’s. This artifact had been passed between kings for centuries, a golden ring studded with limestone, sandstone, and granite on the band. At the center of the forehead, the brand dipped towards the nose, the central bridge adorned with copper and iron stones. The Royal Crown fit Nakabno perfectly, and a wide smile spread across his face.
“Hail King Nakabno of Keshthrute!” shouted Ajarma.
“Hail! Hail! Hail!” came a chorus of voices.
Once the ceremony was completed, Damiharthro pulled King Nakabno aside.
“You know my liege, the title of King is a heavy burden to bear. When I was first chosen decades ago the title had been perfunctory, and my role mattered very little in the grand scheme of the Kingdom. But things are changing. In the past few years, there have been reports of other kingdoms ascending, even those who once yoked us in chains. This has the potential to be an unstable time, King Nakabno, and all I ask is that you rule well.”
“Thank you for this advice, Damiharthro of Anagekh. May your ground be stable.”
“May your ground be stable, King Nakabno of Keshthrute.”
Claim Name: The Kingdom of Asmanakashra
Claim Type: Confederation of the Mine-Clans/State
Starting Age: Iron Age
Map: here
Technology: Writing, Bronze Working, Iron Working, Horse Domestication

Hello all! I know yall arent doctors, but my pain is keeping me awake (again) and Im ready to explore the potential psychological explinations and figured I might throw a line and see if anyone else deals with similar symptoms. Sorry its a bit (super duper) long! I wanted to be as specific as possible.
It started about a year and a half ago, when I would go to bed and would be almost asleep when suddenly my heart would start to race. Then I started to wake up at night with my heart racing. After some googling I decided to stop eating sugar before bed, because my sweet tooth for dessert might be causing it. This went on for a few months.
Then I started having small occasional sharp little pains in my chest and sometimes Id feel out of breath for no reason. Odd. Then a few months later I went on a trip and felt like I was struggling to breath, like a fish out of water, and my chest felt tight. I went to urgent care and they said my vitals are fine and no assistance was needed.
These occasional sharp pains and lack of breath continued through summer and were annoying but I didnt really have the time, money, or energy to see the doctor about it. Then last December, I ended up in the emergency room thinking I had a heart attack- I was lying in bed talking about my day when BAM. It felt like my heart hiccuped three times, followed by a needle sensation going up my neck and head, and immediate need to use the bathroom. I was shaking hard and walking was difficult. My gf drove me to the hospital and after a 10hr wait I was inforned that I was perfectly fine and whatever it was, wasnt a heart attack.
From then on, my chest pain increased drastically. I recorded it for a couple of weeks and couldnt find any pattern to it- sometimes it would feel like a chest palpitation, a sharp stabbing pain, a dull throbbing pain, tightness, lack of breath, a combination of them- it could be left chest, right chest, center chest, sometimes in my arms. Time of day seemed to have little affect, though it happened the least in the mornings.
Doctor gave me a referral to a cardiologist, a pulmonologist, and mental health counceling. Cardiologist had me on a heart monitor and saw nothing wrong, so I checked heart off the list. Pulmonologist I procrastinated on and they book too far out (closest app is like 3 months from now). Insurance denied councelling, but I expected that.
For a while the pain faded and went back to being just occasional. Now its evolved into something I consiter worse. Instead of occasional sharp pains, its now a constant, neverending tightness in my chest, like Im being constricted. I feel like I cant breath. Fish out of water. But ask my partner and she'll say Im breathing normally. The only time I dont notice it is when Im very focused on something (usually working on a project that demands my full attention).
Sleeping is hard- any position is terrible, but on my belly helps a tiny bit, and if I put on headphones and listen to music it might distract me long enough to doze off. But if I try to take off the headphones, or if my gf shifts in bed, or I get an itch or literally anything happens, Im awake and its like my chest is running a marathon or seizing while the rest of my body is entirely relaxed. Worst part is, I started checking my pulse when I wake up like that, and only half the time is my heart beating quick. How can I feel like my chest is racing when my pulse feels normal? The tightness is in my throat now too, thats new in the last few days.
A few people have told me it might be stress-induced. My gf gets undiagnosed chest pain that was real bad in college and occasionally still acts up. I get anxiety sometimes (but I dont have an anxiety disorder) and Ive had depressive patches (not chronic), which doesnt help in my confusion as to whether or not its a physical or mental problem.
Its worth acknowledging for the mental health side of things, its been a really rough year and a half. I started optimistically, ready to level up and work a career job and upgrade from a studio.
To put it in its most summarized form without going into a million paragraphs of detail, heres my stress timeline:
-Moved into a larger place with friends, turns out everyone has chronic depression/anxiety and lots of pressure is on me to baby their brains and do most of the cleaning. Everyones miserable no matter what I do anyways. This is roughly when the occasional pains started.
-One of my coworkers passed away. We were all as close as coworkers could be, and I think they thought I was heartless for not attending memorial stuff, but I am not good with death.
-Put myself out there career-wise, ended up losing 2 jobs before spring. Lots of debt accrued. This is when I went on the trip and ended up in urgent care.
-Parents announced theyre selling the family home I grew up in and my dad built himself. I leave my gf, whose my pillar of love and support, to assist with the process and work a couple decent jobs while Im there. Somehow its not enough and debt slowly creeps ever upwards. I am cut off from my gfs physical support. Stripping down my home was hard.
-Lost one of the two jobs. This is a new record for me.
-I had to put my cat down. She was 19 and I had her since she was less then a year old. Im not good with death.
-Quit job to fly back home. My family house is now gone forever. Im coming home with more debt then I left with, the opposite of my goal. Pains started to get more common.
-Get new job (#5 in less then a year). Pay wouldve been decent if I didnt have credit card bills to pay. Struggle to afford gas and groceries. Debt creeps further upward. Love my new coworkers, but lots of drama there as well.
-Emergency room incident happens. Find out my job doesnt give a rats ass about me as a human being. I am repremanded for not coming into work. "We dont accept doctors notes for same day call-outs."
-Chest pain gets significantly worse. I am still feeling the pressure of caring for my household's horrible mental states. I do most of the cleaning. I work constantly but am still further in debt. I feel like a child, useless. Nothing I do helps. One of my past employers still has not given me my W2, so my taxes still arent done, a huge source of anxiety for me
-One roommate leaves. We now have to pay more to cover the lost portion of rent. Have to ask my parents for financial aide. Significant hit to my pride and mental health. This is when the chest tightness starts to dominate and I started finding it impossible to relax.
And that about sums it up! I didnt mean for this to turn be so long, so I guess TLDR; my chest makes me feel like Im gonna die for no obvious reason, is this a known issue caused by stress? What are y'alls experiences with mental health affecting your physical health? What kind of things have you done to relieve pent-up stress that doesnt want to leave your body?
Thx for your time! Signed, a very tired redditor in pain who has work in the morning.