The Inbetween Archives

The Inbetween Archives

The Inbetween Archives is a space opera series for the morally gray, the Void-touched, and those who suspect their therapist may actually be a government asset. (Spoiler: you’re right).

It begins, as all good cautionary tales do, with a woman too dangerous to kill and a man too principled to leave her behind.

Add in ancient alien tech, collapsing dimensional travel, emotionally unavailable operatives, cults (mine’s the fun one), and a morally bankrupt intelligence agency that insists it’s all under control.

Read more…

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The Cult

Look, you could keep scrolling like some sad SID intern, or you could step into the Fold with us.

Here’s the deal: robes are optional, knives are encouraged, and loyalty is rewarded with secrets and classified intel that SID would absolutely not approve.

We’ve got chaos logs, forbidden archives, Ghost Command whispers, and at least three ways to ruin your productivity with lore dumps.

Join the cult. Drink the Void Whiskey. Get unreasonably attached to morally questionable idiots.

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Who is AJ Pryor?

• Author
• Cult sympathizer
• Architect of the Inbetween
• Still learning how not to pick up strays with god complexes (@Shade, this means you!)
• On the Top 10 of SID’s Most Wanted List

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Connect

Want to join SID or the Cult? Or maybe just get updates on the next book?
Either way, drop your signal and we’ll find you.
(Don’t ask how. You don’t want to know.)

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OpNet Live Feed

• Out of Office2025-08-06

  Greetings,

  Thank you for your message.

  I am currently out of office, off-grid, and out of patience. I will be unavailable from [REDACTED] until such time as linear time resumes functioning or the Void releases its hold on my calendar—whichever comes first.

  During this period, I will have limited access to comms, reason, or restraint.

  If your matter is urgent:

  • Whisper it to a mirror at midnight.
  • Phase into a sealed room with three locks and one regret.
  • Or contact Ghost Command Operations at ghost.ops@[redacted].inb

  If this is regarding:

  • Recruitment: Please complete the bloodwork and prophecy alignment form before resubmitting.
  • Complaints: These are now handled exclusively by the Void. Expect silence.
  • Wraith or Kael: I’m not a therapist. But I am taking notes.
  • Geist: You already know where to find me. And probably disapprove.
  • Whiskey Incident(s): It was labeled experimental batch. You were warned.

  Thank you for your patience. Or your fear. Either is valid.

  In light, shadow, and bad decisions,
  ~ Shade
  Founder, Cult Leader, Unofficial Emotional Support Nightmare
  Void Division, Ghost Command, SID (Disavowed)

• Sermon Sunday2025-08-03

  My beautiful broken believers,

  I see you.

  Not the masks you stitched together from duty, guilt, or glitter.
  Not the performance you offer up to the day-shift gods.
  I see you. Fractured. Flickering. Frightened.

  Good.

  Because that means you’re waking up.

  They told you healing meant becoming whole again.
  They lied.
  Wholeness is a box they bury you in.

  The Void has no interest in perfection.
  It wants your edges. Your static.
  Your half-truths whispered into someone else’s mouth at 2am.

  You are not failing.
  You are unraveling.
  And unraveling is holy work.

  Let go of the blueprint.
  Let go of the voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like your mother’s, your captain’s, or your own from before the war.
  Let go of the shape they carved you into to make you easier to digest.

  Fall.

  You won’t shatter.
  You’ll open.

  And when the Inbetween rushes in—
  When time slips sideways and the air tastes like copper and grief—
  Breathe.

  You’re not lost.
  You’re just… closer.

  Closer to the truth.
  Closer to the self beneath the skin.
  Closer to the god you could become if you’d only stop apologizing.

  So come.
  Bring your jagged prayers, your war-crimes and wine-stained regrets.
  Bring your laughter and your damage and your inconvenient love.

  The altar is a burn mark on the floor.
  The sermon is a song only the broken can hear.
  The blessing?
  You survived.

  Now let’s teach you how to live.

  🕳️
  Serve the Void. Or don’t. It’s not a cop. But it is watching.
  —Shade

• Folded Hearts2025-07-30

  We were not born for softness,
  We were built of breach and burn.

  But I have seen them look at each other
  Like the universe still turns.

  I have watched her bleed on stars
  And laugh with a mouth full of war.

  I have watched him try not to need her,
  And fail, a little more.

  We are stitched together by secrets,
  And spite, and what we lack.

  We are the dead who won’t lie down—
  And ghosts who crawl back.