#every month a foundational period

[deeism]

this could be charmac (@ peachcrises on twitter)

[ereborne]

Rejoice!  Rejoice!

I have been granted permission to do Periodic Experimental Restructuring of the Greater Database!

If I save my changes too soon I will have to redo everything coming from HR going to Payroll by hand by myself while sobbing, and if I save my changes too late IT will disarticulate all my limbs!  But within the ideal window, I can do anything I want!!

The actual literal word-for-word directive I received from the IT supervisor was “if you’re willing to put that on your head, then sure. go ham”.  I’m gonna go ham.

[biblomaniac]

Supercorp headcanon:

The realization is almost startling. Kara hasn’t called her by her name in what seems to be a long time. They’ve seen each other nearly every day in the months following Alex and Kelly’s wedding, and yet Kara had said her given name only a handful of times, and only out in public.

Once Lena recognizes this curious phenomenon, she decides, as a scientist, that she needs empirical evidence to prove she hasn’t deluded herself into believing a fantasy. Over a two week period, Lena record dates, times, events, situations, and surrounding bystanders, and how each correlates to a different pet names from Kara.

By the end of the fortnite, the brunette has amassed a relatively large amount of data. Lena found that Kara called her:

Baby- 27 times

Babe- 15 times

Sweetheart- 10 times

Honey- 4 times

Lena is astounded to realize that:

1. She and Kara spend A LOT of time together; and

2. Kara has only called her by her name three times (two at The Foundation during a press conference, and one at CatCo when Lena dropped by to bring her favorite new Editor in Chief lunch.

Armed with proof, Lena plans to confront Kara when they meet tonight before game night. Unsurprisingly, Kara has already begun setting up snacks and games when Lena unlocks the door to what has become her shared apartment with Kara. Surprisingly, Lena didn’t have to find any sort of awkward segue to begin the conversation.

“Baby, what last game do you think we should set out for tonight? We played clue last week, but the last time we played monopoly it kind of got out of hand.”

“I wouldn’t say, ‘out of hand,’ Kara.”

“Babe, you bankrupted everyone and refused to end the game until Alex admitted you were the queen of monopoly. We do not need to have a repeat performance of that now that Esme will be coming.”

“Fine, let’s just play Candyland. Esme will enjoy it and she won’t have to struggle to keep up with the adults for this one.”

“Perfect idea, honey. Thanks for helping me pick,” Kara says as she finishes setting up and turns back around to face Lena.

Knowing there is no better opportunity than now, Lena asks if they can talk. If Kara swallows after she agrees, no one has to know. Lena leads Kara to the couch; they sit close enough to grasp hands if necessary but far enough to move their arms or legs without brushing against one another.

“Kara, why have you been calling me all these nicknames?”

“What do you mean? I’ve just been calling you by your name.”

It seems Lena didn’t factor in the possibility that Kara herself hadn’t realized she amassed such a large repertoire of pet names for Lena. A pink tinge crawls slowly up pale cheeks.

“Kar, you haven’t addressed me by my name outside of our jobs in months.”

“Okay, but we see each other every day. What have a been calling you?”

It seems Lena will have to shove her embarrassment in a little box so she can admit her findings to Kara.

“Well, you’ve… you’ve been calling me various terms of endearment.”

Kara chuckles at Lena’s overly formal response.

“Lee, just tell me what I’ve been calling you. It can’t be offensive, or you’d have brought this up ages ago.”

“You’ve been calling me ‘baby,’ and… and ‘babe,’ and ‘sweetheart,’ and—”

“Oh. Okay, did it bother you?”

“Well, no. I just—“

“Because if it has, I can totally stop. I’d hate to cross any boundaries.”

Boundaries. Since what Nia dubbed the “Friendship Breakup of the Century,” boundaries have been blurrier than ever. Even before Lex revealed Kara as Supergirl, boundaries between them were murky, tiptoeing back and forth over the line of friendship and something more. Lena has managed to keep her feelings stuffed into neat little boxes. She has never been certain if Kara felt what she did, never wanted to rock the boat of their relationship by calling to attention just how…intimate some aspects of their relationship are.

“What boundaries are there really left to cross, Kara?”

“What do you mean?”

It seems Lena will have to buck up and spell it out.

“We sleep in the same bed, for gods sake!”

Kara tilts her head, looking a bit like a confused puppy.

“What’s wrong with that? I thought you liked it!”

“I—I do!” Lena runs a hand through her wavy locks, growing increasingly frustrated by Kara’s inability to understand how odd their friendship is.

“So what’s the problem?!”

Lena jumps up, pacing back and forth in the space between the coffee table and the couch. She taps her fingers rhythmically against her crossed arms, trying to calm herself down.

“Friends don’t do this! The nicknames, sharing beds, and lunch dates, and movies nights cuddled up on the couch. Don’t you see how, how romantic this all is?!”

Kara jumps up, standing in Lena’s way, gently grabbing Lena’s shoulders. The blonde slowly uncrossed Lena’s arms, trailing her hands down until she is grasping Lena’s trembling hands. In the most soothing voice she can muster, Kara says,

“I mean, I guess. But we’ve never had a typical friendship, Lee. We’ve always been so much more, it doesn’t seem right to not do any of that. If you aren’t uncomfortable, and you don’t want me to stop, maybe…maybe all we have to do is stop being friends, and start being girlfriends.”

Girlfriends. Girlfriends? Lena can barely believe her ears.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, baby, be my girlfriend.” Kara gives Lena a beaming smile, watching as the brunette flounders to give her an answer.

“Girlfriends, like romantically, or…” Kara chuckles at Lena’s disbelieving tone.

“Yes, romantically! Like you said, there aren’t any boundaries left to cross but this one,” Kara moves her arms to Lena’s waist, leaning down slowly, giving the former CEO time to decline if she wants. Lena stares up at Kara, kryptonite green eyes roving between her lips and crystal blue eyes. With barely centimeters left between their lips, Lena surges forward onto her tiptoes, arms winding around Kara’s neck to pull her downward.

Seconds, minutes, even hours could have gone by before Kara breaks the kiss.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Lena happily says, moving to hug Kara tightly.

“FINALLY!” A voice exclaims.

Kara looks up, having not noticed her sister peaking her head around the now open apartment door. Lena burrows her head into the crook of Kara’s neck, unwilling to part.

“You owe me $50, Nal!”

“Ugh. You guys couldn’t wait one more week? You just cost me big time,” Nia grumbles, fishing through her purse for Alex’s winnings as the Superfriends pile into the apartment for game night.

Lena finally pulls back from Kara’s neck, moving to welcome their friends, but isn’t able to stray far when the reporter wraps both arms around her waist, pulling the brunettes back flush to her chest.

“Kara!” Lena squeals, a pretty red blush blossoming up her neck and onto her cheeks.

“What, you just agreed to be my girlfriend, I’m never letting you go again,” Kara tells her as she leans down to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Later, when they leave, we can test out all our new boundaries,” Kara whispers quietly, placing a final kiss to the shell of her girlfriends ear before dragging Lena to the couch.

“Let’s play!”

*************

If Lena makes a point to win every game as quickly as possible, nearly shoving their family out the door at the end of the night, it’s no ones business but her own.

[alyrasturnz]

can you write something related to hits different with matt?? like reader and matt have been on and off and after months of reader going on dates trying to get over matt they ultimately end up back together with a good ending?

HITS DIFFERENT

❐ summary » y/n and matt have had a rollercoaster of a relationship, characterized by cyclical separations and reunions. after an extended period of y/n engaging in a series of dates, endeavoring to extricate herself from the lingering affections for matt, she realizes that no one compares to matt. despite the myriad of challenges and emotional vicissitudes, their bond remains indomitable.

❐ pairings » ex!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » angst (happy ending), argument, swearing, lowkey cheating, toxicity, toxic relationship

❐ a/n && w/c » i fucking hate physics. physics could eat my pussy dry idc • 2.67k

you paced restlessly around the room, your footsteps echoing like distant thunder, the tension so palpable it seemed to pulse with every heartbeat. "matt, we can't keep doing this. one minute we're together, the next we're not. it's exhausting."

matt sighed deeply, his hand moving through his hair in a gesture of frustration and weariness. "you think i don't know that? but every time we try to make it work, something always comes up!"

you crossed your arms, your frustration palpable in the stiff set of your shoulders. "maybe because we never really address the issues. we just keep pushing them aside, hoping they'll disappear."

matt's eyes flashed with anger, a storm brewing beneath the surface. "and what issues are those, the ones you never want to talk about?"

your voice escalated, quivering with pent-up exasperation. "you're the one who always shuts down! every time i try to talk, you just walk away!”

matt recoiled slightly, his expression solidifying into a stoic mask. he took a deep breath, his shoulders tensing as if bracing for an unseen storm. "maybe because i'm tired of the same arguments over and over. i'm tired of this rollercoaster."

your voice quivered with sorrow, your lips pressing together in a desperate attempt to hold back the flood of emotions. "so what, you're just giving up?"

matt's jaw tightened, the muscles in his face becoming taut with restrained emotion. "it's not about giving up. it's about recognizing the toxicity between us. we keep hurting eachother.”

your eyes welled up with tears, shimmering like fragile crystals on the brink of shattering. "so you're saying this is all my fault?"

matt shook his head, the frustration boiling over like a pot left too long on the stove. "no, i'm saying we're both to blame. but i'm the one who's had enough. i'm done pretending that everything's fine when it's not."

your voice broke, trembling with a mix of desperation and hope. "matt, please, we can work on this."

matt's face flushed with a deep, crimson anger. "work on what? the endless cycle of breaking up and getting back together? it's like we're trapped in a loop, and it's consuming me from the inside out."

your hands quivered uncontrollably as you took a tentative step forward, only to feel your heart disintegrate into countless fragments as he took a step back. "i love you, matt. isn't that enough?"

matt's eyes softened momentarily, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability, before hardening once more. "love isn't meant to feel like this. it's not supposed to be a battlefield where we cannibalize each other's spirits."

your voice fractured, barely holding together. "so what, you're just going to walk away? after everything we've been through?”

matt seized his jacket with a determined grip, his face set like chiseled stone. "i'm fucking done; i can't do this anymore." he stormed out with a force that seemed to shake the very foundation of your world, leaving you standing there, stunned and forsaken. 

the echoes of your shattered relationship reverberated through the room, a haunting reminder of love's fragile nature. as the door slammed shut, the silence that followed was deafening, enveloping you in a cocoon of despair and disbelief.

»--•--«

you found yourself nestled on a worn, velvet couch, the hum of the party swirling around you like a distant melody. beside you, ethan, your new boyfriend, sat with a casual ease, his presence a comforting anchor. your head rested gently on his shoulder, a silent testament to the budding intimacy between you.

it had only been a few weeks since you and ethan had started this journey together, a fleeting dance of connection in a world where your relationships seemed to dissolve like morning mist, rarely enduring beyond the span of a single month.

you have endeavored with all your might to banish thoughts of matt from your heart, yet every attempt seemed to crumble like a fragile castle of sand. each kiss you shared with others became a haunting echo, a stark reminder of how they could never measure up to the tender touch of matt's lips.

every embrace felt hollow, every laugh a mere shadow of the joy you once knew. the essence of matt lingered in every corner of your mind, an indelible mark that no one else could ever match or erase. the comparisons were relentless, and each one only deepened the abyss of longing within you.

your friends would often talk about how you and your new boyfriend epitomized the perfect couple. yet, beneath the surface, you discerned the hollow ring of their reassurances, recognizing them as mere platitudes designed to soothe and sustain you through the days.

their compliments, though kind, felt like fragile masks, concealing the deeper truths you harbored within. you knew that their praise, while comforting, was but a veneer, a gentle fiction crafted to help you navigate the complexities of your relationship.

but you felt a gnawing guilt as well. it was as if you were using him as a mere vessel to navigate the turbulent seas of your heart, a means to exorcise the lingering specter of matt. this wasn't entirely untrue, yet the weight of it pressed heavily upon your conscience, casting a shadow over the budding connection you were trying to forge.

ethan was perfect in every conceivable way. he was kind-hearted, intelligent, and brimming with dreams and ambitions that painted the future in vibrant hues. yet, a lingering thought persisted—matt possessed those very qualities too, didn't he? the comparison was inevitable, a silent whisper that refused to be silenced.

ethan was the epitome of the dream guy, the one who would listen patiently during arguments, even when the fault was entirely yours. he would lavish you with affection, consistently spoiling you and meticulously catering to your every whim and preference.

or perhaps that was the crux of it? perhaps you longed for the thrill, the unpredictable dance of on and off, the bewildering confusion, and the fiery conflict.

but your thoughts were abruptly severed when your head instinctively turned toward the door, your eyes catching a fleeting glimpse of the triplets as they made their entrance.

it had been quite some time, nearly a year, since you and matt had parted ways. despite the passage of months, you and nick remained in contact, your bond unwavering. however, matt's transformation was striking—so much so that you couldn't discern whether it was a change for the better or for the worse.

sure, he had altered his hairstyle and grown a beard, but the most significant change was the presence of the girl by his side.

you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. she bore an uncanny resemblance to you. a few subtle differences here and there, but everything about her mirrored you almost perfectly.

you glanced downward, a smirk playing on your lips, before lifting your gaze once more to scrutinize his girlfriend. your eyes then shifted to matt's, and as he caught your glance, your eyes widened slightly while his softened in response.

you hadn't laid eyes on him since that fateful day he severed ties, grabbing his jacket in a fit of rage and storming out of the room. since he unequivocally declared he was done, leaving no room for reconciliation, and essentially made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. 

he went so far as to erase your presence from his life entirely, blocking you on every conceivable platform—even the most unexpected ones like roblox and spotify.

you bit your tongue, averting your gaze as you reluctantly re-engaged with the ongoing conversation among your friends and boyfriend, your thoughts momentarily adrift in a sea of contemplation.

throughout the entire ordeal, you feigned laughter and plastered on smiles, desperately attempting to appear engaged. yet, the conversations with his friends paled in comparison to the rich and meaningful dialogues you shared with the triplets.

you felt a small frown tug at your lips as you absently toyed with the rings on your fingers, a profound sense of melancholy seeping into the very core of your being.

"i'm going to get a drink," you mutter, lifting your gaze to meet your boyfriend's eyes. your head remains nestled on his shoulder as he nods, a silent acknowledgment passing between you.

"want me to go with you?" he inquired, his gaze softening as it met yours. you shook your head gently, signaling your preference for solitude.

"i think i'll manage," you chuckle softly, a gentle warmth spreading through you as he smiles and plants a tender kiss on your forehead. with a sense of quiet resolve, you rise and make your way to the drink table.

you arrive at the drink table, grasping a cup with a steady hand before pouring a generous measure of alcohol into it. without hesitation, you down the drink, feeling the liquid fire spread through your senses, a fleeting escape from the melancholy that lingers.

you squeeze your eyes shut, the world momentarily fading to black, before pouring another measure of vodka into your cup. with a swift, determined motion, you down it once more, the liquid burning its way down. you slam the cup onto the table, your eyes squeezing shut again at the familiar, searing sensation that floods your senses.

"still got a taste for the hard stuff, i see," came a familiar voice. you opened your eyes to find matt standing there, a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and concern.

"yeah, well, some things never change," you replied, your voice wavering slightly as you tried to keep it steady, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air between you.

"who's the new guy?" he asked, nodding subtly towards the other side of the room where your boyfriend was engaged in animated conversation with some friends, his curiosity thinly veiled beneath a layer of casual interest.

"oh, that's ethan. we've been seeing each other for a while now," you replied, striving to keep your tone casual even as your heart raced. "and you? who's the chick?” you asked, casting a glance at the woman who seemed determined to capture matt's attention.

"that's alia," he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "she's... nice." there was a pause, a moment where the air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken words, the weight of past emotions hanging heavily in the silence.

"nice, huh?" you said, raising an eyebrow with a hint of irony. "sounds absolutely thrilling."

matt chuckled, but it was a hollow sound, lacking genuine mirth. "yeah, well, you know how it is," he said, his voice dropping to a more somber tone. "sometimes you just need a distraction."

"yeah," you said softly, your gaze falling to the empty cup in your hands. "i know exactly what you mean." the tension hung in the air, thick and palpable, as the echoes of your past relationship reverberated in the silence between you.

the memories of late-night talks, shared secrets, and stolen kisses seemed to fill the space, making it hard to breathe. you could almost hear the laughter that once filled those moments, now replaced by the heavy silence of what was left unsaid. the weight of those recollections pressed down, a bittersweet reminder of the love that once consumed you both.

matt shifted slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "funny how life turns out, huh?" he murmured, almost to himself. "i thought we'd... well, never mind." his voice trailed off, laden with the weight of unspoken dreams and the remnants of a love that once burned fiercely.

you felt a pang in your chest, a mix of nostalgia and regret. "yeah, funny," you echoed, though the word tasted bitter on your tongue. the room seemed to shrink around you, the noise of the party fading into the background, leaving only the heavy silence of unresolved emotions.

for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, leaving just the two of you in that charged silence. the air was thick with unspoken words, and the weight of shared history pressed down upon you both. then, with a sigh, matt glanced away, breaking the spell that had momentarily suspended time.

you took a deep breath, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you like an unyielding burden. "matt, can we talk?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy with the gravity of everything left unsaid.

his eyes widened slightly, and he raised his eyebrows, a subtle gesture that conveyed a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "uh... yeah, sure," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and apprehension. "let's find a quieter spot," he added, gesturing towards a secluded corner, away from the cacophony of the gathering.

you both navigated through the crowd, weaving through the sea of faces until you found a secluded corner. the music and laughter gradually faded into the background, leaving just the two of you enveloped in a heavy, almost palpable silence.

"it's been almost a year," you began, your voice trembling slightly. your hands fidgeted nervously, and your gaze flickered between the floor and his eyes. "i thought time would help, but it hasn't. i can't seem to get over you."

matt sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration and resignation. "i know what you mean," he said, his voice tinged with a weary sadness. "i've tried moving on, but every person i meet is just a shadow, a reminder of what we had. even if what we had was toxic."

you nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat, your emotions threatening to spill over. "we were on and off so much, and it was exhausting," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "but i can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to make it work this time."

he looked into your eyes, searching for something elusive. "do you really think we can fix what was broken?" he asked, his voice heavy with doubt. "or are we just setting ourselves up for more pain?"

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "i don't know, matt," you began, your voice wavering. "but i do know that i've never felt this way about anyone else. it's like... we consume each other, and nothing else compares."

matt's gaze softened, and he gently took your hand in his. "maybe we owe it to ourselves to try again," he said, his voice filled with a cautious hope. "maybe this time, we can find a way to mend what was once broken and make it right."

you squeezed his hand, a flicker of hope igniting in your heart. "maybe we can," you murmured, the words carrying the weight of unspoken dreams and a longing for redemption.

matt hesitated, then spoke again, his voice softer and tinged with vulnerability. "i've missed you, y/n. more than i can put into words. every time i thought i was moving on, it felt like i was just running in circles."

you nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "i've missed you too, matt. and it's been so hard, trying to fill the void with other people. but nothing felt right."

he pulled you closer, his touch a delicate balance of tenderness and familiarity. "maybe we needed this time apart to realize just how much we mean to each other. maybe we can grow from our mistakes."

you leaned into his embrace, feeling the comforting warmth of his presence envelop you. "i want to try, matt. i want to see if we can build something better, something stronger."

matt held you tightly, his embrace firm yet reassuring. "then let's take it slow, one step at a time. let's learn from our past and create a future worth fighting for."

you nodded, a profound sense of peace washing over you as you gently cupped his face, your lips meeting his in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

taglist — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @pinkishpearls @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668 @slutforsturnioloss @realuvrrr

[hwaseonghwasworld]

ATEEZ reaction to you shedding your skin

Request from: @yasmin-choi

Hongjoong

You had the camera ready and set, he walked in seeing you peeling something off, he stepped closer and sees it and jumps in shock “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” you look over at him with a straight face “it’s my monthly peel” “THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN” you kept trying to compose yourself every time he reacted “every month i have to shed my skin, it’s like the first layer” he just in utter shock seeing you peel your skin, you were giggling as you finally confessed “baby I’m just joking it’s a peel off mask” the whole time you were creasing thinking about his reactions.

Seonghwa

You put the peel off mask on your face chest and arms, you were doing a video talking about you having your ‘monthly shed’, seonghwa slowly walks in seeing you peel your skin and he steps closer to you not knowing what to do or say, his mouth hung open, you look over at him as you peel it off “can you hold this please?” You had apart of your ‘skin’ in your hand wanting him to hold it, he steps back still keeping quiet as he just watches you.

Yunho

He walked in on you in the bathroom as you prank him “what are you doing?” I look over at him as I peel it off “my skin is shedding” he looks genuinely interested but also I concerned “why is it doing that?” I look at him with a straight face “it happens every month” he walks closer to you “does it hurt?” I look over at him and I giggle seeing how interested he is with it “no it doesn’t, it’s like dead skin” I say ad I was trynna come up with a lie “oh okay… do you want me to help?”

Yeosang

“Alright guys so unfortunately it’s my monthly shed” He walks pass you as you explain to the camera about your ‘monthly shedding’ he looks over at you after you say the last word “what is on your face…” he walks up to you and looks closer “it’s my monthly shedding” “is that skin?!!” He puts his hand on your face and immediately took it off making you laugh.

San

San walks in and sees you peeling your skin he starts screaming for you acting like he’s the one in pain “what are you doing!” I look over at him still peeling the skin “why are you peeling your skin off!?” “It’s my monthly shed” he repeats what I said still lost and scared for me “yeah I do this every month” “like a SNAKE?!” I look over at him and tilt my head looking at him like ‘are you serious’ “you girls do this every month?!” I nod and he just watches the scared while I peel my skin.

Mingi

He walked in on you taking a peel off mask and looks at you confused “what are you doing?” He looked at you in utter shock, so you decided to prank him “it’s my shedding day” he got scared and walked closer to you “HUH?! ONLY REPTILES SHED” you giggle and look at him “no it happens right after my period” he looked concerned for you “does it hurt? Does it happen to all girls” I smile finding this funny “yeah, some girls get it on their arms and legs too but I only get it on my face, it’s like a new skin.”

Wooyoung

You were both in the car and you had your phone set, he walked in and you peaked the peel off Mask off of your face making it look like you were peeling your skin off, you even put some foundation on it to make it look like real skin, as soon as he walked in he almost fell out of the car “BAE WHAT ARE YOU DOING” “it’s my monthly shedding” he starts shuddering not knowing what to say “W-W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN MONTHY SHEDDING YOU DONT DO THIS” I look at him holding in my laughter, composing myself “don’t act like you don’t know, I do this once a month” “SO YOU’RE A REPTILIAN” I look over at him “are you gonna help me or….” “NO”

Jongho

You were in the bathroom and he walks past you and watched you peel your skin off “is that your skin?” You nod and carry on peeling, he just watched you the whole time smiling but in a disgusted smiley look, you turn over to him and smile “don’t snakes shed their skin?” “Yeah, why?” “Does that make you a snake?” I glare at him and hit his arm and he just laughs and walks away, that’s how you knew for sure that he didn’t fall for the prank.

Masterlist

[enkidusbi]

can i read your thesis i wanna know about how mesopotamians kept their loved ones close. i feel like there might be something about roots or foundations or grounding, connecting the family to the home & people to place both physically and metaphorically. gravesites are powerful powerful place connections and im really curious about what we know about a culture whose gravesites and homes were one and the same. i imagine they were pretty comfortable with death

so it's not online yet because i want to publish it first in a journal BUT i can tell you a bit about it. this is gonna be specifically about the old babylonian period (19-15th centuries BCE) because that's what my thesis is on, but with some changes it's pretty much applicable throughout mesopotamian history

so the basic thought behind burial under the houses is that the dead don't cease to part of the family. ancestor cult is an important aspect of mesopotamian culture and domestic religion. the netherworld is not a nice place, it's dark and dusty and all the spirits have for food is dust. but if you feed your ancestors (this is a ritual called the kispum which consists of food offering, libation and the calling of their names. it's a regular ritual that some sources say was done monthly, and others say it was during the yearly festival of the dead in the month of the god dumuzi/tammuz) then they'll have things to eat and drink in the afterlife! and if you are a spirit, the more descendants you have, the more your well-being is ensured! it's a symbiotic relationship. if your ancestors are satisified, they can help you out with things and act as sort of benevolent protective spirits over the household and the family, and also welcome you in the netherworld when you die. but spirits who were not properly buried or aren't given the proper offerings can wander, come back to haunt you and cause harm. if you would like to know more about this, i recommend dina katz's book, the image of the netherworld in the sumerian sources, an amazing read. the point is, the dead are part of the family, they have their metaphorical place in the family structure and a physical place in the home

people in the notes mentioned that moving probably was difficult. and it definitely was. some of the people buried in these houses were in underground tombs, built from burnt clay bricks, and some others were just in graves dug into the earthen floor, all around the houses. now these brick tombs are often found completely empty, no skeletons, nothing. which means that the family took them when they moved away. probably because they were in some way the most important ancestors, maybe the main lineage of the family? this part is not really clear because these bones are missing, they took them, we don't know anything about them. however, in ur, there are two examples of just the skull being buried and i think that means that family moved to this house from somewhere else and brought the skulls of their ancestors along and re-buried them. it's a very rare find though

from an anthropological perspective, the phyisical proximity of the graves in the same place where the living slept, ate, worked, raised children, etc, was a kind of constant reminder. of their shared ancestors, of their shared identitiy as a family and as a larger clan or kinship group. from a psychological point of view, it was a strategy of coping with grief

important to note also, that this was not practiced by every family. there are houses with no graves at all or just one or two graves, certainly not the whole household. this means that most likely there existed also cemeteries, burial grounds outside the cities. to my knowledge, no cemetary like this has been found yet. but it would be insanely interesting to see what they were like and how the people buried there were different from the people buried in the houses at the same time!

in the end, let me give you a quote from the myth of erra and išum (translated by karel van der toorn in the book mesopotamian magic). this is what a man says about his house:

"These are my living quarters, I have personally made them and will have my peace within them, and when fate has carried me off, I will sleep therein."

i said i can't write a poem about this. and i don't have to, because they already did and it's beautiful

[cupofwyn]

⌕ — may i have this dance? ( teaser ) *now out!*

lee jeno!prince x f!reader. it was all self-inflicted pressure when the spotlight finally turned to you as the final member of the family to experience a love story—the miracle that has been passed down from your parents down to your siblings and the privilege of love in marriage that has been jealoused upon the ton of high society. though the world might have run out of love stories available for you when your family took it all to their delight, or so you thought.

genre/s. fluff. a tinge of comedy. bridgerton period. rofan.

warning/s. profanity. little to inaccurate representations of the regency era (as im not literate about it). would add more in the actual fic.

wc/s. 0.5k (oneshot - 4k or more)

a/n. hello there! this is my first fic for nct dream. the thought process on how i decided to make this fic was "doesn't jeno really suit the fanciness of the regency era?" and THEN i remembered the after-party jeno on his milan fashion week (he looked heavenly) then tada 🎉 this happened. ty and enjoy reading :>>>

Love. The most privileged thing a person could ever obtain in one's life in this vicious society.

Romance and union are never the norm when it comes to marital circles, but rather, this was quite the opposite for your family.

Your father and mother, the most known influential couple in their respective social circles and political surges, may have been arranged for a political marriage but soon grew fond of each other throughout the years being husband and wife.

A solace love that caverns in one's security and vulnerability. Sometimes truly vomiting when you'd see their very affectionate and loving gestures they shared.

Then the firstborn, your oldest sister, has come to truly be entranced to the magic of love, which I'd say, she was a wizard of turning a stern duke's son into a doting husband.

Her's was a love at first sight in her first debutante ball with the known cold-hearted son of a duke—a dashing and intense man on the outside, and yet your sister surprisingly speaks of him in a different light when she would gush of him, with cheeks the pinkest of pinks.

Next, your first older brother. A man with no virtues and is uncommitting suddenly introduces his fiancée once in our family bondings in the private drawing room, his facial expressions changed and body language softened up in the presence of the woman next to him—the baron's illegitimate daughter from the outskirts of the kingdom, who he had been secretly sending letters from each day.

No wonder he became much more behaved the past few months to save mother's swooning to this event.

Even your most aggravating second older brother has a potential love story written just for him. A childhood friend who lives across the street to which they are clearly in love with each other but remains to be oblivious to their obvious arrow-shooting gazes every time they see the other. Their push and pull plays are only but a headache to the outsiders and annoyingly intensifies their yearning for each other.

And lastly comes you, a shut-in daughter of marquis, who just debuted tonight and has yet to unfold their own love story—or not.

There is no arranged marriage prepared for you by the marquess and the marchioness, nor a love at first sight in this debutante ball with a callous man who is in fact the opposite when it came to you, a controversial love story with an illegitimate child of a noble, neither a foundation of friendship with a man to which turns into a realization of their attachment to them.

None! It seemed like the world ran out of love stories to write when it came to you since your family has snatched them all.

Until tonight.

"Why don't you say we plan to forge an alliance? I will offer you a dance on the next song—you'll be the subject of curiosity, and the next morning, you'll be flooded with marriage proposals from different suitors, possibly earning you a love match in return."

"How does an offer from you really make that situation possibly happen? Unless you're someone distinguishable, which possibly you're not since I don't recognize you, being the most handsome and attractive man I've seen at most could not possibly mean a thing. Or..." You trailed off.

"Or what?" he gulped.

"You're one of the princes."

"Pfft, what? No—but! This face is enough to attract attention. I promise. And I can't hasten more. My chaperone is possibly on the hunt for blood right now, and I've been hiding from him too long. Are you in this or not?"

"Fine... deal. This better work, Lord...?"

He grins, eyes turning into the most charming shape of crescent moon, and lips upturned in a reassuring feat.

"Lord Lee. Jeno Lee, milady." he answered.

i hope you liked this teaser! if you're interested to be updated on this fic once it's published, don't hesitate to reblog/comment to be added to the taglist. see you soon ^^

© written by CUPOFWYN . 2024

[bratzforchris]

In Sickness and In Health

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Summary: In which Tara and Jake discover Johnnie has a chronic illness, but know they'll always be with him, no matter what <3

Pairing: (platonic! I do not ship the trio in any way) Johnnie x Tara x Jake

Warnings: Chronic illness (nothing graphic and no bodily fluids :)), Jake and Tara are still dating here

Word Count: 2k

A/N: In this fic, Johnnie has a chronic illness called PFAPA. You can read more about it here for more background :). I also have this chronic illness, so it's based on my experience <3 Thank you for reading!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Chronic illness was the worst thing to hit Johnnie’s life since, well, ever. His condition was especially painful and rendering, and he hated being bound to the couch or his bed for days on end, zapped of all energy. You see, Johnnie had PFAPA, which caused him to have extremely high fevers, sore throats, and just overall feelings of being unwell. Although it was mostly a childhood syndrome, he was one of the rare but very unlucky few that it had lasted into his adult life. 

Johnnie had learned early on in life that being a sick kid meant being a pitied kid. He hated the pitying looks people gave him and the quiet “you’re so strong” murmurs. They made him feel like a zoo animal, separated from the rest of the world, with people cooing at him in sympathy and then going about their day. It wasn’t even just the adults, though. Right up until the time he dropped out of high school to pursue his YouTube career, the other kids had stared at him and whispered about “the boy that was always absent” whenever he walked down the hall. 

And so, he hid it. The only people that knew of his illness were his mother and siblings, and his ex-girlfriend when they had been together. Even then, the only reason Johnnie had told her was because she questioned why a) he was so warm and b) why he wasn’t getting up, especially when it was a repeat occurrence. He was very lucky that his chronic illness wasn’t terrible. He still had some symptoms from day to day, like a weakened immune system and joint pains. But it was the periodic flare ups that practically killed him. It was one week out of every month, almost like a period. Johnnie would run insanely high fevers, getting up to 105 F (40.5 C), have awful joint pain to the point it hurt to move, have a pounding head and a sloshing stomach, and an extremely sore throat to top it all off. 

Fast forward to now, and Johnnie was currently living with Jake and Tara. He loved his best friends with everything in him, but at the same time, he didn’t want them to view him as weak or childish. Stupid logic? Yes, but there was no arguing with Johnnie. He was good at hiding his flare ups at first. He would coat his face in foundation and eyeliner to hide the dark eyebags from restless nights, and he would take enough ibuprofen to subdue a horse. He still didn’t feel great, but it was manageable enough to hide from the two. This, on top of his usual “emo” personality and occasional mental health struggles that kept him in bed for days at time was enough to make Jake and Tara not have a clue. 

All secrets get found out eventually, though. You see, Jake was a loving, wonderful boyfriend; whenever Tara would ask for pain medicine for her period, there he was, already in the car and speeding to the local pharmacy. He was also a great friend, and would buy an additional bottle for Johnnie, who claimed he “liked” having an extra bottle of tablets on hand so he didn’t have to go into Tara’s bathroom should he need pain reliever. At first, Jake brushed it off, knowing Johnnie was definitely a tummy ache boy. However, after about three months of this, he realized Johnnie would ask for the pain reliever almost at the exact same time Tara would need it for her period. Like clockwork. 

“Eh, whatever,” he thought to himself, entering their house with a CVS bag. He had seen Johnnie naked more times than he’d like to admit. His best friend definitely didn’t have a period. “I’m back.” he called, entering the living room. 

Tara and Johnnie were sat on the couch, watching some sort of trashy reality show. Tara was curled up in fetal position from the awful cramps she was currently experiencing, while Johnnie was huddled up under a huge blanket, currently experiencing one of his worst flares up in over six months. Neither seemed particularly interested until Jake dropped the bottles of medicine into their hands. Johnnie immediately ripped into his, dropping three tablets into his hand and swallowing them dry. 

“Someone’s in pain.” Jake raised a brow at his friend while he opened the bottle for Tara, handing it to her along with her water and a kiss on the head. 

“...stomach ache…” Johnnie mumbled, not thinking Jake was going to call him out on it. 

“I can’t find my fucking heating pad.” Tara whined as Jake began to hold her, sitting between the two. 

Johnnie winced, biting his bottom lip and holding the warm fabric closer to his body under the blanket. He felt awful for taking Tara’s heating pad, but he had been desperate for relief from his aching joints. Thank goodness Jake had become focused on massaging Tara’s stomach so neither one of his friends would see his guilty face. 

The boy immediately stood up, clutching the blanket and heating pad to his chest. “I’m in pain and I’m going to bed. Night.” he said rather grumpily, already stalking to his room. 

Tara was pulled out of her pain induced haze to giggle. “It’s like Johnnie has a period.”

“Something like that.” he called back. 

-

Morning had come for the household and Tara was on a mission. She was going to find her heating pad. As much as Jake’s massages had helped last night, he would be gone today to film something with Scuff, so she needed the warm glory. She had searched high and low in every part of the house except Johnnie’s room. 

“Johnnie? Can I come in?” she asked, rapping her knuckles lightly on his closed door. “I need to look for something.”

No answer. Tara knocked again, and then waited. Had he gone with Jake to film? Finally, she twisted the door knob, speaking before she stepped inside. “If you’re in there, I’m coming in!”

The sight Tara saw made her heart shatter. Johnnie was curled up in bed, making sure her heating pad was placed strategically on his knees and wrists. Although the boy had three different fans blowing on him, he was wrapped in heavy blankets, snoring softly. The icing on the cake, though, was the look on Johnnie’s face. He just looked sick. His skin was more pale and ghostly than normal, save for a few, red acne spots. His eyes were ringed with purple and despite his heating pad and blankets, he was shivering. He looked overall unwell. 

Tara bit her lip, debating what to do. She really, really wanted her heating pad, but at the same time, Johnnie looked so comfortable. However, as she turned on her heel to leave Johnnie’s room, the floorboards squeaked under her feet and Johnnie groaned. 

It only took a few moments for the boy to blink open his eyes, and when he did, he flipped shit. “Get out.” Johnnie snapped, his voice hoarse from the flare up. 

“I’m not mad about the heating pad, Johnnie,” Tara said softly. “We all get sick. I’ll get a new one.”

“‘M fine. Get out.” he snapped again, clearly grumpy from the lack of sleep his condition was causing. 

“Are you sure?” Tara moved closer towards the bed, examining his sick form. “You don’t seem fine…”

“Tara, seriously. I’m fine. Just get out.”

As much as Tara put out a nonchalant attitude to the world, she really cared about her friends, and seeing Johnnie clearly in a lot of pain was hurting her. She gently moved to lay a hand on his forehead, but before Johnnie could swat it away, she recoiled and cursed. 

“Shit, Johnnie. You’re burning up.”

“I know,” Johnnie groaned, reaching over and grabbing a thermometer from his nightstand. Based on the way it looked, it was clear Johnnie had been flaring or ‘feeling sick’ for a while. There were empty popsicle wrappers and tea mugs, water bottles, vapo rub, and a variety of medicines and thermometers. Johnnie quickly took his temperature and then shrugged. “104.2 (40.1 C). Lower than last night.”

“Dude,” Tara looked almost dumbfounded. “You gotta get to a hospital. That’s like, scary high.”

Because of the fever and lack of sleep, Johnnie rolled his eyes, a sour tone pouring off his tongue. “I’ll be fine,” he rolled towards the wall. “Just gotta sleep it off.”

“Johnnie,” Tara said firmly. “You are not sleeping this off. You’re going to a hospital.”

“I’ll be fine. ‘M just cold. Maybe I’ll break my own fever record.” he groaned, using his arm to shield his eyes from the sun. 

“That’s it. I’m calling Jake.” she said, whipping out her phone. 

Johnnie bolted up, cursing softly at his aching joints. “Do not call Jake. I swear to god, Tara. Do not call Jake.”

“Johnnie, you’re clearly extremely ill. You need medical attention or you’ll get super sick…more than you are now,” she added, turning to leave. “I’ll come get you when he’s here.”

“I haven’t gotten super sick in 25 years and my fever’s been higher than this.” Johnnie mumbled. 

“What do you mean?” Tara stopped in her tracks.

Johnnie groaned, cuddling back under his comforter. “Since I was born. I’m chronically ill. Google it or some shit. I’m too tired to explain now.”

“...oh.” Tara whispered quietly. “I didn’t know. Is this like an all the time thing or?”

“It’s called PFAPA. Go look it up,” Johnnie already sounded almost asleep again until his voice suddenly wobbled. “But please, don’t tell Jake.”

Tara sat down on Johnnie’s bed, rubbing his thigh. That’s how she knew he must’ve been feeling pretty bad. Johnnie rarely liked physical contact unless he was feeling sick. “Is there a specific reason you kept it from us? It’s okay if you don’t wanna share.” she whispered, taking on a motherly role that few people ever saw. 

“Because you’ll pity me and I hate that shit.”

Tara frowned. “I understand. Thank you for telling me; that’s probably really hard. Do you need anything?”

Johnnie hesitated for a few moments before speaking quietly. “I want a popsicle. For my throat.”

His friend smiled, standing up and pulling the blanket further over him. “Specific flavor?”

“Grape.”

Tara smiled as she left Johnnie’s room, going into the kitchen. She decided to put the kettle on to make Johnnie some tea, knowing tea helped her own sore throats. As the water boiled, Tara pulled out her phone, googling the syndrome Johnnie had mentioned. She grimaced as she read the WebMD article; it sounded extremely painful, like having the flu every single month. Once the water had boiled, Tara made Johnnie a mug of tea and then pulled the freezer open for a popsicle. Her heart practically shattered when she saw a surplus of popsicles, shoved to the back of the freezer. 

Bringing Johnnie’s sickness spread upstairs, Tara saw that he was practically asleep when she opened his bedroom door. But as she handed him the popsicle and tea, he sleepily mumbled “You can tell Jake.”

“Are you sure?”

Johnnie nodded tiredly, already sucking on the popsicle. “Mhm.”

“Huh,” Tara said, but she didn’t question it. “Okay.”

She sent Jake a quick text, hoping he and Scuff were near done. Although his temperature was “normal” for Johnnie, she didn’t feel very good about letting him lay here and burn up. Surprisingly, Johnnie didn’t protest when she sat down at the chair at his streaming desk. He just continued to softly sip the mug of tea. 

“Jake’s on his way.” Tara whispered softly. 

The sick boy just nodded, laying his fluffy, black, bedhead back on the pillow. Tara didn’t hear anything more for a few minutes, until soft snores wafted from Johnnie’s bed. It seemed like it was only a few minutes later when she finally heard Jake come into the house. 

“I’m bac-” Jake was practically yelling until Tara shushed him. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Jake asked, tipping his head towards Johnnie. 

“He has a chronic illness,” Tara explained softly. “We can talk then.”

And until then, Jake and Tara would be there to support their best friend, sitting quietly and watching over him as Johnnie slept. 

[blacksapphhicmaddonna]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, ALPHABET MAFIA

just a few reminders:

- first pride was a riot

- black & BIPOC queer people are the foundation of our entire nation and the global culture

- we owe most of our rights and progress to BIPOC trans women/femmes and different communities of lesbians, trans/gnc folks and elders.

- trans people have always existed, they are ancient and indigenous to many cultures and places and are SACRED.

- I’m glad you’re here and there is community out there for you, waiting with open arms. Don’t give up just yet, please.

- rainbow capitalism isn’t liberation

- we are all we have, be fucking better to each other

- lesbians have done so much for lgbtqia+ people and should maybe idk stop being erased for no reason

- biphobia is real and just bc your ex cheated on you doesn’t make it bi folks fault, you’re projecting babe

- being queer doesn’t dissolve white privilege, pls touch grass

- be safe at pride. they’re coming for us all and we need to protect ourselves.

- not everyone wants to use the word queer/dyke/fag etc. I’m glad you reclaimed the slurs used against you, me too, but not everyone wants to and you need to respect that. LGBTQIA+* exists for a reason.

- the black and brown belong on the flag.

- the A is for asexual/romantic or agender, not ally.

- get some pussy (or whatever you do (or don’t do)) and make space for joy! because black/queer joy is revolutionary and fucking righteous just as much as our anger is, too

- Juneteenth coming up too, issa parade in my city fr

- asexuals/aromantics belong at pride. Period. Full stop.

- safe sex is the best sex

- get tested!

- it’s okay to not watch the news. america is hell, go take a nap

- people 100% know themselves better than you ever will, people are who they say they are and you don’t get to decide that for them. respect pronouns, identity, etc. or argue w ya mama/god/someone else cause it ain’t finna be me ❤️

- you deserve relationships that feel safe and actually are safe. Don’t settle.

- learn your queer history. they won’t teach us. they took our elders from us.

- Black LGBTQIA+* history IS Black History.

- we all need to be thankful to the house mothers and the ballroom scene and those who gave us what we have now, regardless of who you are.

- don’t call yourself a stud if you’re not BLACK. wit a capital B and at least one BLACK parent.

- not everyone is out. happiest of pride month to y’all. you’re still gang and we love you just as much. 💗

- our collective liberation lies in the fact that we are all tied to each other. if you’re down for the gays but not the theys, you’re not as decolonized as you think you are.

- shout out to fanfiction writers who have been single-handedly providing queer art/content/representation for years while the industry continues to make a mockery of us or intentionally leave us out. one thing we gonna do is help someone find their queer awakening, and get that story right. love us 🤪 go team

- your life means something. it’s important beyond comprehension. you look good. your ass is fat (if you want it to be). get the mullet as a lil treat.

- LGBTQIA+* people across the board have ALWAYS existed in literally every culture and every continent (and Antarctica counts if you count the cute lil gay penguins😌). Don’t let them tell you different. We are not a “mInOrItY”, we have been MINORITIZED. we are not small, we are great and mighty and have ALWAYS been here. And we always will. We exist in the future just as we have existed in the past. We stand on the shoulders of MASSIVE collective ancestors. If that’s not an indication to keep going, keep fighting, keep laughing, dancing, voguing, and keep showing up authentically - then I don’t know what is.

- it’s gonna be ok baby. pinkie promise.

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Fourteen

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the late update. Life has been pretty stressful these past three weeks, but not as bad as before. I finally finished all the required exams to become licensed in what I do, and now I have to wait for the results. I'll probably be starting a job in the coming months, so I might have to go back to uploading every two weeks like before. I'll keep y'all updated. Also, while researching, I realized this story has a cannon time frame. It's 127 AC to 129 AC, so everyone has a definite age. You're welcome. :)

Chapter Warnings: Period accurate sexism. 

"He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand." - Richard Silken, The Worm King's Lullaby.

It was two days before you woke. The stars were sparkling in an endless sea of the night sky, the waning moon reflecting a mirror image of itself over Blackwater Bay. You were surprised no one had come to wake you. It was rude for a guest to sleep the days away in someone's home, but you were exhausted.

So much had happened when you arrived at Kings Landing, resurfacing old memories you desperately pushed down. The pain was too great to sift through, tears heating your eyes whenever you thought of them. It was easier to ignore your hurt and squash it into a hardened cluster of untouched emotions, constantly pushing it deeper and deeper until it cracked from the pressure, exposing it raw.

You went to the great wardrobe on the other side of the guest chambers, wrapping a robe around your shoulders as you headed to the balcony. The small ship with your belongings arrived a few hours after you did, and everything was neatly organized into its designated place as if you had lived there your whole life. You supposed a part of you did, a piece never entirely leaving the haunting red rock walls.

There was a thickness in the air. The heavy humidity clung to your skin, making you feel sticky and damp, sweat accumulating in the warmer parts of your body even with your thin nightgown. Your room was on the upper levels of the palace, overlooking the never-ending labyrinth of sandstone and mudbrick houses. The ones closest to the Keep had tile roofing. Thoughtfully crafted peaks sloped down to let water drain on the rare occasion it rained, but the further you looked, the more you saw that foresight was lost. Straw and flat stones comprised the cupolas as timber support beams stuck out of the foundation, built for longevity and not fashion.

You were mainly awake now, although sleep still clung to your eyelids. A leaf had snuck its way onto the railing before you, a crispy tan color with holes in its body, a sign of the changing seasons. You watched it drag across the intricately crafted banister before being swept away as quickly as it landed. A strong breeze brushed your bare legs, feeling it weave through your long gown; you pulled your silken robe tighter.

Your limbs controlled themselves as you moved to your chamber doors, slowly opening them as you peeked out. As you suspected, the guard was slumped over, the hour of the owl upon him as you slipped out. You still recalled your time in the guest wing, traversing the long hallways to your intended destination.

The leaf reminded you of your brief moments spent at the Godswood. Your fleeting moments had you longing for a genuine opportunity to appreciate the acre of land it stretched on. You never had enough time to truly understand the beauty of it while you were here, caught up in the constant rotation of lessons and duties before your legitimization.

Elm, alder, and black cottonwood grew there, looking over the Blackwater Rush. Your old Septa Mariam had explained the history of a Godswood. You could remember her lecture as you sat in the lesson room, staring longingly out of the pane-glass windows.

When the First Men converted to faith in the Old Gods, after the Pact between the Children of The Forest, they created Godswoods. They were groves within their castles and villages where a single Weirwood, also known as a Heart Tree, would be planted so the Gods could be worshipped. Each tree was carved with a face, said to have been done by The Children during the dawn, centuries before the First Men. Before the treaty was made, while the war was waged between the Children of The Forest and the First Men, they cut down every Weirwood they found. They thought the greenseers of the Children, who could influence plant life and have prophetic dreams, could see through the faces.

The most severe oaths and vows are said before the Heart Trees, believing you are standing before the Old Gods when you do. To break a promise that was noted in the presence of the Gods was a means to a fate worse than death. Septa Mariam did not believe that to be true, going as far as to demonize the unpopular faith for believing in what she said were false idols. The dedication of the Seven was the only truth to her.

You didn't care or know much about religion before being found, only knowing the Seven as that was the most common belief and what the people of Kings Landing practiced. You didn't believe something so transcendent could reside in such a lecherous place, but when you stepped into the Godswood for the first time in years, the wind blowing through your ebony hair, you couldn't help but feel everything was true. 

Even in the heart of a secular city, you could feel the Old Gods watching with their unseen eyes, hidden within the rocks and the trees, settled into the blades of grass and dirt under your shoes. Their stares did not frighten you. Strangely, within their watchful gaze, you felt comforted. It felt mystical, a blanket of infinity enveloping your flesh in something otherworldly. You were welcomed in a place full of people who did not want you.

You walked to the Weirwood tree that stood ghastly in the darkness. Its bark was as pale as bone, its leafs as red as the blood coursing through your veins. The slender white branches shook in the autumn wind, the crimson foliage floating onto the sod beneath it.

You traced the tips of your fingers delicately across the truck, feeling its rough texture as you placed your forehead upon it. It had only been a short period in which you resided at the Red Keep, but your mind felt like it had been an eternity. You longed for the smell of brimstone and salt, a sulfuric scent no one besides Aegon the Conqueror was thought to enjoy. That scent was home to you, a place full of family, where you had fond memories of love and belonging. Your heart ached to see them again even though you had barely left.

You wished to ruffle your digits in Luke's curly brown hair, grab Jace by the scruff of his neck, rub your knuckles on his scalp, and pinch Joffrey's cherubic face until he swatted your hands away with his much smaller ones. You yearned to see your kin again. The people here that called themselves were anything but.

Peace had finally set into your limbs as you sighed through your parted lips, the isolation sinking into nothingness. You lowered yourself to the damp ground as you nestled between two winding roots and peered through the gaps of leaves above you, looking into the vast amounts of stars that twinkled in the darkness.

You thought about nothing anymore, staring into the sky as you heard the faint scraping of shoes. Assuming it was just a servant or perhaps a guard, you ignored them, breathing deep into your chest. The clatter of metal against stone rang through the night, disturbing your harmony. Barely audible sounds of dissatisfied rumblings caused you to sit up with a scowl, squinting to see the disturbance.

Almost imperceptibly, you saw the silhouette of a man bent over as he gathered a pitcher off the ground. You knew without a second thought who it was, debating with yourself if you should lend a hand. He seemed well enough as he scooped it up, stumbling to gather his footing. You settled back into your spot, sighing as you nestled your head back onto a pale root.

Just as your body had begun to slip into a relaxed state, the same piercing metal sound happened again, and you opened one unamused eye, sighing.

"Having difficulty?" you questioned with a snark into the night, not moving.

"Fuck," you heard him mumble, a dull thud following.

At that, you finally moved, propping yourself up on your elbows as you glared at him with a hooded gaze.

"Aegon, must I fetch your Mother?" you taunted, a wicked grin burning your cheeks.

Aegon snapped his head from his place on the ground towards you, a surprised look on his face. He believed you were in his mind at first. The cups he had lost himself in filled his head with thoughts of your gentle touch, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you whispered his name. He now knew it was the Arbor Red talking.

"I..." He staggered upwards, brushing his palms on his trousers, recovering quickly, much to your chagrin, "am perfectly well, dear heart."

Your stomach flipped for a reason you did not know. You didn't like how he spoke, uncomfortable with what they made you feel. It reminded you of something Rhaenyra would say, an intimate person you longed to be with again, as your eyes looked anywhere but at the drunken prince.

"You certainly appear so," you commented sarcastically, leaning more weight onto your elbows as you sighed. "Why are you awake, my Prince?" He did not indicate if he had heard you, only gazing into the vast acre of the Godswood.

Despite your voice's calm, almost emotionless tone, the flesh of your bottom lip found its way between your teeth as you sat up, pressing your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. A short silence fell as Aegon gathered his bearings, stumbling over to you as you pulled your legs closer.

He stopped beside your slippered feet, staring at the shaking leaves above, some falling onto the soft grass as a cool breeze swept through the grounds. You couldn't understand why your toes curled at his presence, your hands suddenly sticky and uncomfortable and griping the hem of your nightgown. You wondered if he could sense it, your whole body tensing as he grew bored of the leaves and plopped next to you. You hoped he was too drunk to notice.

You swallowed thickly, the sound loud and audible as you picked at the blades of grass. Aegon didn't hear the loud clicking in your throat, focused on flipping the metal pitcher upside down as the last few drops of Arbor Red dripped onto his pink tongue. Unlike you, he seemed comfortable in the silence, quietly humming to himself as he wiped the excess drink with the back of his hand.

The guilt from how you treated Aegon when you found him crept up your spine, stinging your ears as your face burned at the memory. He was kind to you, albeit obstinate at times, but nothing terrible. He defended you before his mother, the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms! On the other hand, you had spat such vile insults—words he did not deserve within such a vulnerable state. You regretted them deeply, but your pride refused to admit it aloud, your mouth opening and closing with slight intakes of breath as you fought to apologize.

"Why did you not return my letters?" Aegon abruptly asked, distracting you from your inner turmoil.

"I did not receive any."

And that was the truth. No raven from the Red Keep was ever directly for you until Queen Alicent. They were all intended for your mother, father, and the few Lords that spent their time at Dragonstone.

"Do not think me a fool," he spat without warning. "I sent you a letter every moon for a year, and even then, when you did not respond, I sent one to my half-sister, begging her for you to write to me." You stared at him bewildered, your mouth slightly agape as your heart sank. "I just..." he began, cutting himself off as his mouth became wet, "I only wanted to know if you were well. After everything that happened all those years ago, I would expect one to feel a need for comfort and companionship."

Aegon had no intention of belittling you; he only wanted to show you the compassion which you had been neglected of. Your instinct was to deny any need for sympathy, feeling offended that he thought you could not handle yourself, but you realized that was not the truth. The bitterness you harbored for his mother and grandfather had muddled together into a mess of resentment and rage for all who surrounded them, even those who had no part in it.

The moonlight reflected in his glassy eyes as you touched his cheek. You had never realized how pink and plump his lips were until they trembled in the silver lighting.

"I swear to you, Aegon, on the Seven, upon my late mother's grave, that I had no knowledge of the letters you sent me." You had to bite your tongue not to add that even if you did, you wouldn't have written to him anyways. The blinders of anger kept you from reason back then.

You saw how his face fell from the contorted pain your supposed rejection gave him to one of sad relief. "I must extend my apologies then," he said, attempting to move his cheek from your hold. You did not let him, leaning closer to him as you brought the other one to keep him in place.

"No, Aegon. It is I who must apologize." He stared at you in confusion, his light brown eyebrows furrowing together. Rubbing your thumb over the creases between them came naturally to you. You had done it with your brothers when they were upset, tracing over the lines and structure to calm them.

"Despite my lack of patience and disregard for you, you have continually shown your heart bare, and I..." you paused, willing your voice not to crack, "cannot thank you enough. You have only showered me with kindness and hospitality since I have stepped foot in Kings Landing. Even when I did not deserve it, you defended my honor so valiantly it would put my brothers to shame." You smiled, picturing Jace and Luke's faces as if they had heard the Queen call you a bastard. "Although I must admit my confusion surrounding your ravens. I never received any word from you, and I cannot fathom who would bar them from me."

You did have some ideas of who it was and why they did it, but it still upset you, even if you would have burned the letters anyway.

The tension in Aegon's brow loosened at the delicate swipes of your thumbs, shutting his bloodshot eyes in appreciation. He still looked the same boy you left for Dragonstone, though the dark circles on his porcelain skin were more prominent, and his hair was shorter. You watched him tuck his lower lip in his mouth, still quaking. You couldn't stop the way your hands slid back down his face, cupping his jaw in your palms as you tugged his wet lip from between the confines of his teeth, the dry pad of your finger sticking to the soft skin.

He opened his eyes at the movement, his violet irises nearly black to focus in the darkness. You gave a small smile, not fully stretching your face as you dropped your hands, finding his clenching the loose fabric of his trousers; his knuckles blanched as you took them in your own. You inhaled sharply to speak but thought better of it as you shuffled closer to Aegon, the fine hairs on your arm tickling his.

***

You weren't sure when you had fallen asleep within the Godswood, the birds chirping as the morning sun rose above the trees. Your back ached as you attempted to stretch your body, only to find the silver-haired head of a prince on your lap. You didn't remember inviting him to rest there, but you didn't wake him, his pouty lips slightly parted as he softly snored.

Aegon looked so sweet like this, like an innocent child who had yet to discover the atrocities of the world. Your fingers itched to run through his hair, to scrap his scalp until he purred into your touch. This was wrong, and you knew it, having the notoriously hedonistic prince lying like a babe on your plush thighs. You wondered what your father would do if he caught you.

The most obvious answer was that he would be furious, most likely at Aegon, and pull him by the short locks attached to his head and onto the ground. Deamon would spit pure venom from his lips, a fit of anger you had only ever seen him display once before, and then he would turn to you. He wouldn't say anything. He wouldn't need to. You could see everything he wanted to convey in his eyes. There would be a mix of frustration, confusion, and disappointment. You would explain what had happened and try to convince him his wrath was directed at the wrong person.

Aegon was just a byproduct of the people he hated, the green bitch and her cunt of a father, Daemon called them. You would explain that Aegon had no desire to rule nor the capability, even though he had not said that himself. Your father would argue that no man will turn away the opportunity to be the most powerful being in all the realm. Once Aegon understood he could have everything he desired, there would be no refusal. Would a man lost in the desert refuse a drink of water simply because it was not from the springs?

You would agree with your father. He was right, after all. He was always right. Daemon knew of the darkest wants everyone had. He could read people and bait them to reveal whatever he wanted them to. You admired him for that. It was a trait you hoped to possess eventually. You realized then that you needed to find something Aegon would covet more than unlimited power. You had to make him crave something more intoxicating.

A lump formed in your throat as you gazed down at the sleeping prince who had not stirred during your dissociation. You knew that only one thing could sway him from saying yes to the crown, and your eyes burned with tears at the thought.

You inhaled a shuttering breath, willing the water not to spill as you brought a shaking hand to Aegon's frizzy hair, running your fingers on his scalp.

"It is time to wake up, my Prince," you leaned into his ear, gently whispering. "The sun has risen, and there is much to do."

Aegon still refused to open his eyes. He groaned, rolling onto his side and shoving his face below your navel. You grinned, quietly laughing as you lifted his chin to meet your gaze.

The angle you moved him to caused his neck strain, a bright blue vein popping on his milky skin. You could almost see it throbbing as the flesh thinned. Your finger found its way to it, tracing the turquoise line that expanded from his jaw to his clavicle to where it joined the rest of his body. You caught his twinkling lilac eyes in your brown ones, the vessels within them no longer prominent as he blinked sleep away. Aegon sat up, shifting his body weight onto his palm as your finger stopped its movements on the stained undershirt he wore.

He said nothing as he moved to his knees, his free hand cupping the underside of your jaw in the juncture between his thumb and index. His touch was not quite as tender as yours was, squeezing the area tightly, almost as if he was afraid you would turn away. You felt your heart rate quicken, your lungs suddenly telling you to fill them with more air as his thumb stroked your chin, extending to expose the raw flesh from your nervous habit.

You didn't register that Aegon had moved, his face closer than what you would deem appropriate, as your lips quivered.

"You are shaking, little one," he stated, the gravel of his tired voice rumbling in your chest.

"I am?" you breathed, your body feeling powerless.

You wanted to be strong, as you were taught to be. Yank your face out of his grasp and dust off your dress as you left, but you couldn't. He made you weak. One look at his angelic face and your limbs were putty. Your eyes began to heat with tears again, your stomach fluttering with unfelt emotions.

"Princess," a man called from the entrance to the castle.

You jerked away faster than you thought possible, wobbling to your feet, lightheaded. It was only because you stood so quickly, nothing else.

"My Lady," one of the Cargyll twins stood, bowing his head stiffy as you approached him. "I was altered by her Grace Queen Alicent that there is to be a Council meeting at high noon. She wishes for you to attend."

"Thank you, Ser Erryk." A self-satisfied smirk curved your lips as you spoke, partially because you knew what Alicent had to do for you to be invited and the other because you had guessed to twin correctly based on how his blue eyes widened at the correct name. "If you have time, alter my maids that I wished to have a bath drawn. The air here is not what I am accustomed to."

"Why does Mother want her at a Council meeting Erryk," Aegon questioned too late, you already walking underneath the stone covering of the Keep.

You bristled at the informal way he addressed the knight, raising your eyebrows as you turned to watch the pair.

Ser Erryk was stiffer than you when you had spoken to Ser Criston Cole a few nights prior, tensing as Aegon came closer. "I am not certain of the reason, my Prince. It is not my place to question the Queen's decisions."

Aegon scoffed, stuffing his loose shirt into his pants to seem somewhat put together. He turned to you, his face asking if you wanted to spend hours deliberating with a bunch of stuffy, rich old Lords and his mother.

You made no protest like he had expected you would, remembering how much you disliked the small meetings you had to attend for your legitimization. He frowned deeply, childishly stomping as he sat on a wooden bench against a pale red rock wall.

"Do not sulk, Prince Aegon. It is unbecoming. I would hate for you to be in such a sour mood when we meet again." Your face and voice were stoic, but there was a light behind your eyes, only one that Aegon could see.

He crossed his arms, flipping his hair out of his vision as he continued to pout, though you swore you saw a hint of his smile ghost his lips as he turned away.

***

Once your maids of the Keep had brushed and washed your tangled hair, smoothing lavender and clary sage oils into the long strands and on your skin, they put the black tresses into a braided style similar to the one Visenya wore. It was simple yet regal, and when paired with the deep crimson of your dress, a golden three-headed dragon curling around the expanse of your breasts and wide neckline, it was sure to conjure the image you wanted—a fierce Targaryen princess born and bred of fire and blood.

The Small Council had to respect you in the sense of your rank, bowing and calling you a lady of the realm, but that was all pointless, nothing but supercilious words inside the Chamber. Lords would not adhere to the opinions of a woman, no matter if she was queen or not, and with Rhaenyra residing in her self-imposed isolation for the past years, neglecting her courtly duties, it only made things more arduous.

Your father had mentioned Grandsire appointing him to the Small Council in times past, but the positions always bored him. He felt the call to act while the other members sat and only wanted to debate. The world was moving faster than the Lords could discuss, and with how lawless Kings Landing was at the time, Daemon knew only action would fix it. He had created the Gold Cloaks, and after the night of bloodshed and savagery you had heard about when young, he was never allowed a chair again.

A guard had come for you when you were ready, leading you to the Council Chambers.

The doors were already open, and a few men sat discussing amongst themselves. You recognized one, heart-stopping and body freezing, his image forever seared into your memory. Ser Otto Hightower had greyed some, his hair was still the same wiry brown, curly beard brushed neatly as allowed, and hair slicked back with oil. The bronze hand pin poked proudly through his lapel's embroidered deep green fabric.

You felt your lungs shrink, refusing to let you inhale. Your chest began to hurt, your mouth becoming thick and your jaw quivering as you stood in the doorway, your presence so unimportant as not to go announced.

You couldn't think. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't move. All you could do was stare at the man who sentenced your loved ones to death. He shoved their heads on spikes and placed them on the battlements of the Red Keep for all to gawk and ogle. A punishment that was only served to those who betrayed the crown.

Everything seemed to move slower, your eyes focusing and unfocusing on the Lords surrounding the table. One laughed, a man with golden hair lifting his head back lightly to bellow one out. Another sniffled, wiping his nostril with his forefinger and running a hand through his thick beard before continuing his conversation with the nearly dying man beside him.

You were terrified, a fawn left alone in the woods, helpless to watch as a pack of wolves feasting on its mother's corpse. Your instinct was to run from the danger, run as far and as fast as your legs could carry you until all you could see was the top of the Tower of the Hand. You wanted your mother. You wanted your father. You wanted your brothers... You wanted your family. Why couldn't they be here with you? It was high time Rhaenyra took her place as the heir and ran the kingdom instead of the Hand, but she wasn't. She wouldn't. She felt her place was with her family on Dragonstone, eating candied lemon cakes and fish as she taught Jace High Valyrian, uncaring of her future simply because some Houses swore allegiance to her.

Daemon was wise to send you here without telling her. If he had, you were sure she would have attempted to impose her self-ideology and keep you on the volcanic island while Otto Hightower and his daughter continued to run the Seven Kingdoms in their vision.

"Her Grace, Queen Alicent of House Hightower."

Ser Harold Westerling's voice caused you to jump in fright, moving nearly three paces away from the door just in time for Alicent to make her entrance, her hands clasped together.

The Council members all stood from their chairs in respect for her title, but they couldn't help but wander away from the Green Queen and onto the Black Princess, dressed in rich Targaryen red and adorned with golden jewels. You caught the gaze of the black-bearded man, averting your eyes as you bowed to Queen Alicent. She only regarded you with a frown, like you were a frayed string on the seams of her emerald gowns.

She walked further into the Chamber, her back like an iron rod, as she sat at the farthest end of the table. The one meant for the King or the Hand, not the Queen. Her place conveyed a message to the entire room without words, and you made a small expression of disgust as you understood the meaning.

How many doubts for Rhaenyra's claim were planted by Alicent Hightower and not her father?

You finally comprehended how much you had underestimated her sway in the line of succession. You had thought Alicent still had some honor and sense of duty to do what was right, remembering how she could not stand Ser Otto's decision regarding Lyra and Sara. You were wrong. She was just as wicked and conniving as her father, a product of his greed and lust for power. The slight warmth you regarded for Alicent was gone.

During your displeased state of being, you realized that you had not taken the empty seat across from her at the other end of the table. The Lords stared at you, expecting you not to be told what to do as it was apparent. You brushed off their looks as you rolled your shoulders, straightening your posture and taking your place in the oversized wooden chair. A ball was already in its designed hole, reflecting a deep obsidian color as Queen Alicent began to speak.

"I am sure, my Lords, you are all curious about the presence of a new member," she paused, perched on the edge of her wooden seat as she placed her hands on the table. "Upon the orders of Princess Rhaenyra," Alicent lied as you narrowed your eyes at her, "she has sent her daughter as a ward to sit in her stead as the heir." The men all stared at her with wide eyes but kept their mouths shut, knowing it was not their place to question the child of the King.

She nodded to you, signaling she was finished with her short introduction and was allowing you to speak. You flashed a smile at the shocked looks of the grown men, and they all stiffened, a bolt of fear running through them as they saw Daemon sitting before them.

"My mother does send her sincerest regards for neglecting her duty for so long. As many of you know, she has been with child consistently these past years and has felt it unsafe to travel for her and a babe. Most of you sitting here are fathers yourself and I am certain you can understand how tumultuous childbirth can be." You placed your hands on your womb, looking down at the mahogany table with a slightly sad but wistful look, pretending to swallow tears back as you discreetly glanced up to see their reactions.

You had to hold back a snort as they all shared solemn looks, no doubt remembering how the former Queen had lost her life. All men were the same when it came to it, hypocrites and easy to fool with a few sighs and batting of lashes.

"As her Grace mentioned, I am here in her place, and the Princess expects you to extend the same treatment as you would to the heir of the Iron Throne. She has entrusted me with upholding her opinions and desires on matters of the realm." You raised your head, the sorrowful look you had passed now gone as you met each pair of eyes surrounding you. "And I intend to uphold them with unwavering devotion."

Leaning back in your seat, you signaled that you were finished with the introduction, resting your fingers on the shiny obsidian ball before you, but you were not done with your words.

"I realize that it has been some time since our King has set foot in these chambers," you traced the cool orb with your digits. "I, regretfully, have only heard on parchment of his health and wish to be informed of his most recent state."

It felt like all the men could do was stare at you, unable to form coherent thoughts with the upheaval in the order of things. The hand was the first to speak, unsurprisingly.

"The King is well and sends his regards for being unable to attend today. His health has continued steady progress." You kept your eyes down, waiting for the lies to ensue. "Now, I wish to speak on the matters we discussed yesterday of the outdated infrastructure of the Royal Sept. The benches are-"

A scoff left your mouth before you could catch it, interrupting Lord Hightower. "The well-being of the King is not as important as remodeling a sept?" You asked rhetorically, looking at Otto incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Princess," he spoke to you condescendingly, as if you were a fool, "if you wish to inquire about the King's health, I suggest you visit him yourself. We have matters to discuss that you are unaware of due to your sudden attendance."

Otto had practically just told you to silence yourself in much more elegant words. You could barely contain the rage that shook your bones at his rudeness, wanting to jump across the table and strangle him until he turned blue. Instead, you clenched your jaw, settling him with a stare that would kill.

"The King's health is a matter of continued discussion. Should he not be here today? Sitting across from me with his golden crown? Our utmost desire should be to bring King Viserys back to his former self. I believe that takes precedent over the benches in the Royal Sept."

"Your Grace," the frail man spoke, his voice shaking from use during his decades of life. "I am Grand Maester Mellos. I see to the Kings in matters of his health." You nodded to him, waiting for him to continue, his words slow. "I can say with certainty that our King only proceeds to regain more strength and vigor that he had only possessed in his youth." You saw Alicent shift her hands into her lap, focusing on them instead of the old man. "You need not trouble yourself with handled matters."

"Good," you replied with a polite smile, quickly replacing your irritated demeanor as you looked over to Ser Otto. "I will be sure to see him attending the meetings soon, then."

Alicent twitched, her lips tightly pursing as she inhaled deeply. You relaxed lazily in your seat, the wood creaking as you become comfortable in her discomfort. Her anxiety only solidified your conclusion as you saw her pick her nails. They were lying.

You were silent the rest of the two hours the boring lords spoke. Your father's opinion was correct about the dullness of things. It was all frivolous discussion about updating the castle and Sept, replacing the "out dated" tapestries with more modern ones to showcase the future and wealth of House Targaryen. No action. Just talk. You knew that now more than ever, you were needed. If not for the sake of your family's claim, then for the sake of the realm. 

Master List of Series

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Thank y'all so much for your support!! I'm so grateful for all the likes and reblogs. I hope everyone who has been with me since the beginning knows that you have a special place in my heart, and to anyone who just now tuned in, make sure to leave a comment so I can tag you! I would hate for you to search for your likes or reblogs for the story. I only say that because I hate doing that myself. XD Also, check out the Spotify playlist because I've added new songs and changed stuff around. I am trying to decide which is my current fav. It's either Little Red Riding Hood by Aeseaes or Fairwell Wanderlust by The Amazing Devil, or maybe even Souls on Fire by Mad Gallica. I seriously can't make up my mind!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @fatalewomen, @somemydayy, @ariana-dumbledore8, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @adelusionalwriter, @sunny-boy-06

Bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason :(

[sussex-newswire]

"In 2023, The Archewell Foundation supported girls’ education and health in Nigeria, collaborating with The GEANCO Foundation to send school supplies and menstrual products to 2,500 girls in the region, addressing their critical needs and contributing to long-term, sustainable solutions in their lives. 

"An estimated 37 million women and girls in Nigeria experience period poverty, unable to access or afford menstrual hygiene products. As a result, millions of girls in the country miss school every month, crippling their educational advancement. 

"The Duke and Duchess will continue to support this prolific partnership with The GEANCO Foundation by providing hygiene products to 1,500 girls and pregnant women through their Foundation. 

"We are pleased to announce the expansion of this partnership to include mental health resources and training for teenage girls and boys across Nigeria, where like so many other counties, stigma still has a stronghold. With this expansion, GEANCO will hold summits designed to provide the necessary information, skills, and coping mechanisms to thrive.

"The foundation thanks the Lightway Academy and Abuja community for their gracious and warm welcome to Nigeria."

[haza8877]

Energy from now until the end of the year.

The messages here are only for reference and entertainment. Tarot can't predict 100% of everything in your life exactly. Your fate is up to you. I hope you can enjoy this reading.

Pile 1

Pile 2

Pile 1

(8 of cups, 8 of wands, 9 of swords)

Maybe you're losing your enthusiasm, interest in the job or the goal you're pursuing. You may be depressed and tired of your current job and want to leave. It gives me the feeling that the last months of the year will change a lot for you and make you tired and overthinking. Yeah, a lot of things will come to you quickly and overwhelm you. If you decide to quit a job, goal, or relationship that you no longer have much emotion for. Maybe you'll have to face a lot of emotions and ask yourself, "Am I making a hasty decision?", "Is this decision right?" You may face a difficult time making a decision. If you've made a decision to end something in your life and are in a state of intense anxiety about that decision, then don't worry too much. Having to make the decision to leave something you have put a lot of effort into is always difficult, I know that. But then you'll realize that this is necessary. These last months of the year are a time for you to solve the problems of the past. It's time for you to leave the things that are no longer supported, serving your life. These are the things that don't fit you in right now. You have to get rid of the old baggage to get to a new chapter of life.

Advice: (I use oracle cards for this part)

Yeah, like I said, choosing to leave things that have been attached to you for a long time is really hard and painful. The advice here is to take the time to learn to accept to let go of things that are no longer for you, to learn to accept pain and listen to yourself to heal yourself. I feel that these last months of the year seem to be the end of an old chapter of Pile 1. Oh, I see the sequence "444," yap, the angels and the spiritual guidance team are always with you, they're willing to be with you to help you get through this difficult period, solve the problems of the old chapter. This will be an important stage for you to look back on yourself and deal with past injuries to become a better version of the new chapter of your life.

Pile 2

(7 of wands, the sun, queen of cups)

I have a feeling that you have been defending your views or something that you yourself think is right. It could be pursuing a job, a project, a goal or a plan that other people can't understand, and maybe you've even been opposed to. You're people with unique ideas, sometimes it's a little bit different that many people think is eccentric. However, only you know what you're doing. From now until the end of the year I see that what you're trying to do will be rewarded. The energy of joy, happiness and success is shown in pile 2. your efforts will bring success, sometimes even fame (you may not be too famous but will be known in a small community or you will be mentioned by everyone around you.) In addition, you may receive support, help from a mature, understanding and emotional woman (may be your mother or grandmother, or anyone in your life).Or you can also ask for advice and guidance from mature women. I also have a feeling that some of you in pile 2 are related to spirituality, maybe some of you are also tarot readers or doing healing work. Or you are simply a person who empathizes easily with others and you have very good intuition.

Advice (I use oracle cards for this part)

The advice here is to focus on building and reinforcing your daily life. For example, healthy eating, exercise planning every day,...Pay attention to the normal things in life and arrange as well as put yourself in discipline to maintain healthy lifestyles. We don't usually care about small, trivial things in our daily lives, but they are the foundation for building the big things that we're aiming for. Spend the last months of the year building a healthy lifestyle and enjoying the little things in your life.

Thank you for your interest in my readings. I hope you enjoy it. I will make more readings in the coming days. Love youuuuuuuu allllll ❤️❤️❤️🌸🌸🌸

[pennyplainknits]

Fantastic Four, again

Seeing the new set pictures for the umpteenth Fantastic Four (hi JQ! Disney, why do you suck at wigs) is reminding me of my one unshakable belief for any FF film which is:

If it's an origin story, it should be a period piece.

The FF is considered to be the start of Marvel's Silver Age of comics, and basically invented the 'Superhero family/team' concept at Marvel. It's ideas and tropes and structures are foundational for pretty much every super hero comic that came after it. But they are also deeply tied into a very particular 1960s 'atomic age' understanding of the world. Even more than the X-men, it's attached to a very particular point in time. You have the Space Race (the first FF comics came out in November 1961. The first manned flight to space was only seven months earlier). You have the Cold War setting and all the paranoia that entails. You have the fact that at least one member of the team fought in WW2 (Ben Grimm was a test pilot in the airforce). You have Science as something that is transformational, utopian and linked to the idea of a triumphant 20th centuary. And they are all foundational to the beginning of the series as well as to the historical setting.

(And then later with the Silver Surfer and Johnny's flight you have the flipside of 1960s optimism, the loss of innocence in Vietnam)

And I think that's why modern - day origin stories for the FF don't really work. They seem tired and hokey because they are lacking that historical context, and because we're so USED to the ideas that the FF introduced that now they look stale. But making it a period piece-like X Men First Class- would solve all that. It would also make it stand out in a slate of identikit MCU movies. Can you see my vision?

[ohello0]

In honor of Women's History Month and International Women's Day, I would like to dedicate a post to ways we can help women around the world facing genocide and gender based violence. Below are a list of organizations and groups to donate to focused on bettering the lives of and providing direct aid to women and girls in areas of conflict. This is an evolving list/resource so I will gladly take suggestions or edit requests from anyone who knows of a verified group helping women and girls that could be added to this list.

Access to Menstrual Products and Repro Healthcare

Sudan, Palestine, DRCongo, Lebanon

Sudan

Periods don’t stop for war: For every $5 Donated a woman or girl in Sudan receives a menstrual hygiene kit for the month

Let's Talk Period: As disposable menstrual hygiene products are too expensive for most women, grassroots groups have popped up to make, distribute, and educate other women and girls on how to make their own reusable pads.

Sudan Charity Navigator: A list of charities including Doctors Without Borders and food assistance groups providing aid to Sudan

Darfur Women Action Group: DWAG advocates for the protection of civilians, promotes women’s leadership, provides elementary education for children in refugee camps, and provides trauma counseling for survivors of sexual violence

Amal for Women: Amal For Women was able to help people in Al-Jazeera state, Darfur and refugees in Egypt. GoFundMe/PayPal doesn’t release the funds raised until the 25th of March. Please consider donating to reach more people the rest of Ramadan and Eid. Other donation links and more info here

Palestine

Pious Projects: "At $20 each, this kit will include - but is not limited to - sanitary pads, a hair brush, tooth brush, toothpaste, cotton swabs, wipes, tissues, and other hygienic items depending on availability. Distributions will take place in various areas accessible to on-ground teams such as camps in Rafah and UN schools."

Anera: there’s a list of things certain amounts of money can get the people of Palestine, $10 can get a family a blanket for winter, $40 can provide hygiene kits that include menstrual products, and $75+ can get people a mattress and more

Arab.Org: Free daily clicks generate ad revenue that goes to UNRWA. This link in particular shows you a full list of specific projects in need of funds you can also give to with a click from poverty to the environment to a fund focused on women.

DRCongo

City of Joy: “The City of Joy is a transformational leadership community for women survivors of violence, located in Bukavu, Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Conceived, owned, and run by local Congolese, the City of Joy has flourished since it first opened its doors in June 2011, healing women from their past trauma through therapy and life skills programming while providing them with the essential ingredients needed to move forward in life – love and community.”

Panzi Foundation: “Every day, between 5 and 7 new survivors walk through our doors. For 20 years, we’ve not only mended each woman’s injuries, we’ve walked with them to healing—every step of the way.”

Lebanon

Global Giving | Days for Girls Lebanon: Health education and locally made washable menstrual kits to women and girls since 2011

Products for Babies and Children

Palestine, Yemen, Sudan, DRCongo

Palestine

Care For Gaza: The work Care For Gaza does is all-encompassing by necessity. From food to money packages to winter clothes to diapers for babies and disabled or elderly adults, Care For Gaza is an on the ground group providing direct aid to Gazans.

Yemen

Go Fund Me: Food Packs and Eid Gifts for the People of Yemen

Sudan

Human Appeal | Sudan Emergency Appeal: Funds orphanages, food, and baby formula

DRCongo

War Child: Tiered donations can provide children with school books, meals, and toys

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This is an evolving list/resource so I will gladly take suggestions or edit requests from anyone who knows of a verified group helping women and girls that could be added to this list.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Liel Leibovitz

According to sources in and out of the U.S. government familiar with Fenzel’s reports and advocacy, nearly every claim presented by the USSC as fact seems to have been lifted directly, sometimes verbatim, from the websites of highly partisan pro-Palestinian organizations, including the United Nations’ Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs in the Occupied Palestinian Territory (OCHA) and the far-left Israeli NGO B’Tselem, which accuses Israel of apartheid and receives vast support from European governments and from George Soros’ Open Society Foundations.

In the past 12 months, 13 Israelis were murdered by Palestinians in Jerusalem and 17 in the West Bank—not counting those slaughtered on Oct. 7, 2023—while doing nothing more provocative than driving home or stopping for gas. The number of Palestinian civilians who have been killed by Israelis under such conditions over the same time period is zero.

But the story the administration has been telling anyone who will listen is very different. By scrubbing any mention of the daily violence directed by Palestinian terror operatives against Jewish civilians living in the West Bank from his reports, Fenzel has eliminated the clear retaliatory motive for the vast majority of attacks by Israelis against West Bank Palestinians. Thinly laundered reports from expressly anti-Israel organizations, designed to support an illusion of innocent Palestinians being violently attacked by bloodthirsty Israelis, paint a picture of an Israeli equivalent to the Palestinian atrocities of Oct. 7, lending itself an easy “both-sides” posture meant to ease the way to creating a new Palestinian state in both the West Bank and Gaza. With an executive order now in place, the Biden administration has all the tools it needs to crack down on any form of Jewish life in Judea and Samaria, and on anyone, in Israel or stateside, who supports it.

[thelazypetowner]

One of the Facebook groups I'm in features a breed every month, and August 2024 is sapasree month. I thought I would share my posts here so we can spread some awareness and education since information is very difficult to find (in English especially, but also still in Korean).

Day one is just basic information.

Sapsalgae 삽살개, affectionately called sapasree 삽사리/sapsali 삽살이 and occasionally shortened to sapsal 삽살, is an indigenous dog (토종개) from South Korea. The name originally derives from Hanja (Chinese characters in Korean language) 煞 (evil spirit) and 揷 (to stop), and in Hangeul, the name becomes 삽사 (chase evil spirits) where 개, gae, means dog. Thus, the sapsaree's literal name means to chase or ward off evil spirits, and as such, sapsarees are often seen as guardians or protectors that bring good luck and peace.

Sapsarees have lived in South Korea for thousands of years, but exactly how long is unknown. The history of sapsarees are largely known through oral stories, folktales, paintings, songs, and writings. Potential evidence suggests they have been around since at least the Silla Dynasty (57 BCE – 935 CE), and for some time, they were typically kept by royalty. They were largely kept as companions, but they were sometimes used as military dogs (specifics of both of these purposes are unknown but likely along the lines of a general purpose companion, watch dog, and hunter). It wasn't until the Koryo Dynasty (918–1392) that commoners started owning sapsarees. During Japan's occupation of Korea, Japan issued Ordinance No. 26 in 1940 to kill dogs for fur to use as military resources. Sapsarees were largely targeted for their long hair, and an estimated 1.5 million sapsarees were killed during this period. Sapsarees came dangerously close to extinction, and in 1969, professors from the Kyungpook National University began searching for sapsarees. Of the dogs believed to be pure by appearance and behavior, only about 30 were found by 1972 when research began.

The true dedication to preserve sapsarees began in 1989 when Professor Ji-hong Ha committed to getting sapsarees recognized as a national monument (designations to animals, plants, formations, etc. that highlight and represent Korea's heritage), and in 1992, the Korean Sapsaree Foundation was founded and sapsarees were designated as National monument #368. From the original ~30 dogs saved, only 8 remained, and from those, the breed was carefully bred for preservation and protection. In 1999, sapsarees became available to the general public, and more recently, have become available to international buyers. Today, the Korean Sapsaree Foundation permanently houses approximately 500 sapsarees for preservation, breeding, and research, and sapsarees now number in the several thousands.

As sapsarees have always been companions, their strength comes from their qualities and behavior with their family. They are most well known for their loyalty and loving nature, but they are also characteristically gentle, obedient, and sociable within their circle. They are said to love with their whole body with their people. They are not known to be a vocal breed, but they are very watchful and may alert bark at strangers. In doing so, they are characteristically fearless and loud. As current priority is toward health and genetic diversity, specific traits on individuals are less selected for or against. As such, traits like prey drive, energy level, food drive, toy drive, and social friendliness with other dogs may vary. Sapsarees are a smart breed, but they are not bred specifically for work or sport, and sometimes motivating them can take time. Uniquely without being selected for, sapsarees generally seem to enjoy water and are generally very clean dogs (ie, not crate dirty and may hold their bladder for long periods). Weak character and nervousness is a fault, and excessive aggressiveness is a disqualifying fault.

Appearance-wise, sapsarees are known for their rectangular shape, large head, large ankles, and shaggy (furnished) fur. Combined with their watchful nature, they are sometimes called "lion dogs" but generally have a amiable appearance. While they are known for their shaggy fur, approximately 3% of sapsarees have what is called "short fur" (unfurnished). In Korean, the short hair sapsarees are sometimes called Goryegae 고려개 (a term coined by Professor Ha), but they are genetically the same. In Korea, sapsarees are considered large dogs. However, they are generally a medium-sized dog at about 52-63 cm tall and 20-30 kg (20-24 in tall and 44-66 lb). They have floppy ears and are generally moderate and well balanced dogs in all aspects due to lack of specific breed purpose and trait selection. Because of their near extinction, priority has been placed on health and genetic diversity. While some selection toward appearance is considered, there remains some variation in appearance in regards to subtleties and specifics. Per the foundation, sapsarees are considered blue or yellow, or variations of blue or yellow, or spotted. Genetically, sapsarees appear to be able to be black, brown/liver, blue, various intensities of red (including a very light cream), and piebald. Various markings and variations appear as sable, agouti, masks, minor ticking on noses and paws (more ticking may be noted on piebald dogs), tan point, and residual white on the chest, paws, and nose. Erect ears are a disqualifying fault.