#please tumblr give me your wisdom

[fairyysoup]

the devil i know

chapter one: god you've got the blackest eyes

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: To summon a demon at a crossroads, simply cast a circle, make an offering, and recite an incantation. What happens from that point on is subject to your desire… and the demon’s.

cw: explicit, smut, dubcon elements, making a deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, coercion (a bit), sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, tfw your accidental boyfriend is a demon who is obsessed with you bc he doesn’t know how to be normal about anything ever, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

a/n: Hi folks, for the month of October this year I'm going to be reuploading all the chapters of this fic onto tumblr, this time hopefully for good. I apologize for the time that it's been taken down. Genuinely, this fic has garnered so much kindness and support and I think of it as one of my biggest accomplishments. I hope you all enjoy it just as much the second time around as the first.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Through me you pass into the city of woe, Through me you pass into eternal pain, Through me you pass among forsaken people. Justice moved my exalted creator; I was wrought by divine power, Supreme wisdom, and primal love. Before me all things created were eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. -Dante Alighieri, The Inferno, Canto III

The book you’ve used for ages now, since late in your junior year of high school, has only one page in it that you haven’t utilized. You don’t know how much faith to put in it– you’re a little short on faith, these days– but, the spellbook lays it out simply, so you follow its directions to the letter. 

To summon a demon at a crossroads, go to a place where two paths meet on the dark moon. You find peace and quiet in the woods, deep where you know no one walks at night but two paths cross in a small clearing banked with trees. It’s your favorite place to go when you want to do a spell– ritual– and you don’t want to be bothered. The whole thing can’t be more than twenty feet across. Above the overhang of trees, there’s no moon in the sky, only stars.

Cast a circle of protection. That took more research than just the book in your hands, but years of collecting information have given you learned knowledge– there are a million ways to cast a circle, and different circles for different purposes. You do your best to create one for protection. You draw a literal circle in the dirt with a stick, fill it with salt, and walk around the circle three times clockwise to cast it. You light candles to give yourself some light, and to free up your hands of the flashlight you carried to see your way through the woods. 

Make an offering of copper. Your hand pauses on the copper dog tag in your hand. You’d thought of just offering a penny, but you remembered reading somewhere that pennies barely contain copper anymore, and you didn’t have anything else that was entirely made of the one metal. 

You run your finger over the embossed name on it. Lacey. Your pet’s old collar feels heavy in your hand as you remove the tag from the leather strap and bury it in the earth, you guess, to reach the… Underworld? Hell? You can’t honestly say, considering the text you’re referencing only calls it the Otherworld.

It’s a big sacrifice. It’s personal. But, you guess, that gives it more meaning. Making a deal is personal business, and you have your reasons.

Recite the summoning incantation. A stanza of words you don’t understand. You don’t think it’s in Latin, but you try your best, all the same. You read them from the book before you, and feel your blood rushing in your veins as you do.

State your desire out loud in a clear voice. Well, that’s a little more difficult. What is it that you want?

You take a breath, go to speak, and then stop. You don’t know how to start. You don’t know exactly how to describe your pain. You don’t know how to voice your anger well enough, you just know you need to… you need to get it out, somehow. This is a very crucial step in the ritual, you have to do it.

“I came here to make a deal,” you speak frankly, clearly. “I’m prepared to do anything. I’ve run out of options. I’ve been hurt too many times, by too many people who didn’t care what they did to me. I’ve lost everything I genuinely loved. I’m… I’m angry, and desperate, and I’m frightened. And I feel so alone. It’s eating me alive, and I just… I just want the ability to make things go my way, for once.” Good enough, you hope.

Wait for an answer.

You do. You listen intently, to the song of the leaves in the trees rustling in the slight breeze, to the crickets chirping in the grass. You wait long enough that you start to rethink your approach. 

It could be that things will turn around if you just wait another month, or another month after that. Maybe you’ll get the car back. Maybe you’ll get the promotion that was given to the newbie that you trained. Maybe your ex will stop coming around your work to intimidate you. Maybe you’ll get a new dog to take the place of the one that he killed. Maybe the evangelical town you live in will stop shunning you and calling you a witch, like something out of the middle ages.

Unlikely, that last one.

Just when you swear it’s a failure, that you should just pack up and leave, that’s when a strong gust of wind rips through the clearing out of nowhere. The candles blow out– and then, oddly enough, relight themselves. There’s a slight scent of smoke on the breeze, and you look around to make sure none of the candles fell over in the wind.

They’re all perfectly fine. There’s nothing amiss, it seems, until you hear a cough and movement across the clearing. You look forward, and see a pair of black combat boots in the stream of light from your flashlight. You follow the boots up to a pair of legs, clad in dark jeans, and then further up, to a torso, and a head, and a pair of sparkling eyes.

“Hi.”

You stare at him, probably looking like a fish out of water with the way your mouth opens and closes. You’d fully expected the traditional scary depiction of a demon– maybe horns, goat hooves, et cetera. But the man that answered your call is… just a man. A pretty one. He has long, curly hair, which falls over his broad shoulders and stirs in the wind. His plush lips curve up in a relaxed, cocky smile, as he takes in the sight of you in return. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Are you just gonna stare at me all night?” 

“Sorry, hi. Hello.” You shake your head. “Can you believe I honestly thought I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?” 

“I can believe a lot of things. You know, there’s a reason why the demon summoning ritual is first in that book.” His voice is soft and resonant. You get a mental image of heat waves radiating from tar-black and glowing magma, rolling slowly over lava beds. The image disappears just as soon as it flashes into your mind.

“Well, to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about making a deal with a demon first thing,” you explain, looking away shyly. “But I’ve tried all the spells in this book and not a single one of them worked. Just seems like everything is getting worse all the time.”

He doesn’t look away– rather, he keeps staring at you, unblinkingly. Like you’re the most fascinating creature he’s ever seen. He leans up against the tree that he appeared beside, his leather jacket falling open to reveal a shirt with a demon’s head on it. Fitting. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. 

“So, now you wanna make a deal with little ol’ me, huh?” He grins, a gorgeous smile that flashes bright, sharp teeth at you. He lifts a cigarette to his mouth and bites it gently between his teeth. He doesn’t pull out a lighter. Instead, you watch him light up with a small flame that erupts from the tip of his thumb. 

“Depends on who you are,” you retort, eyes following the movement of his hands. They’re weighed down by large, silver rings that reflect the light of the flame before it snuffs out. “What’s your name?”

He makes a short noise in his throat, shaking his head abruptly. He doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as you feel he should– more like he’s trying to warn you against something you don’t want. He peers at you from beneath his wavy bangs as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth and uses it to point at you. “Names are really powerful things where I come from, babydoll. Best not to bite off more than you can chew yet. Once we cut a deal– that’s when you get my name.”

You make a face as you mull that over. “So what do I call you, in the meantime? Demon daddy?” 

“You could,” he chuckles. The demon rocks to the side, crossing his legs at the ankles. “If you really wanted to. I wouldn’t mind, it’s flattering.” 

You grunt. “I think I’ll pass on that, actually.” He tilts his head with a sicker, watching you with an amused smile while you shift in place. “So, do I�� I mean, you need to know what I want, right? Is that how this starts?”

“No, I know what you want.” He exhales a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “You want power. To get a fair shake, find your place, change your life. Defend yourself against the assholes making that life, well. A living hell.” As he spits out the words, his voice rings sharp through the trees, like the strike of a hammer on glowing metal, shooting sparks off into the air. 

“I want to take all this pain and just… return to sender. Give it back to them, y’know? I never wanted any of it,” you justify. Your voice is too small in comparison with his. “Maybe then I’ll be able to fucking breathe.”

For how little space you allow yourself to take up, he seems to consume the rest of it. He nods slowly. “That’s a fair request, sweetheart.”

“It’s selfish, I know.”

“Making a deal for power is inherently a selfish thing,” he shrugs. “Own it. I’m certainly not judging.”

You let out a shaky breath. You’re still so nervous, being so near him– ten feet away and growing closer every second, it seems, even though neither of you have moved. You feel like, no matter how far you pull back, the flow of fiery lava he seems to embody will keep creeping towards you until you’re burned alive.

His dark eyes glow like coals in the night as he looks you up and down, and then he quickly pushes himself away from the tree. You startle at the abrupt movement, and watch as he swings around it like Gene Kelly on a lamp post. 

When he rounds the tree, he uses the momentum to throw himself toward your circle. You flinch, and he frowns, but continues moving toward you at a slower pace, holding his hands out innocently. “Wanna know a secret? About how all this,” he twirls a finger in the air, indicating the ritual you’re in the middle of, “works?”

You nod, gazing up at him shyly. If you felt at all powerful while casting the circle and starting the ritual, he’s managed to take the wind out of your sails. You can feel the power radiating off of him in waves.

He smirks at you. “You make your petition– when you say the words in that little book,” he points at the volume at your feet, “and that petition is answered by whichever demon caters most to that desire.” He points at himself emphatically, his eyebrows raised. “Me? Infernal majesty of freaks and misfits. I’m your demon daddy.”

You finally giggle, and it makes him smile fondly, like that’s what he’d been gunning for all along. He backs up a step and puffs his cigarette. 

“I’m here to help you, sweetheart.” He regards you for a second, like he’s thinking things over. “That is, as long as you agree to my terms.”

“Terms?” You echo, but you were sort of expecting that. Nothing for nothing, right? “What are the terms?”

“Ah, they’re simple. Very traditional,” he waves his hand like it’s frivolous. He holds his hand out in midair, and just like how he’d conjured the flames, he produces a weathered book. It looks like a composition book that has scribbles and doodles all over the front of it– the same demon head that adorns his shirt. “You sign your name with your blood in my little black book, you hop on one foot with your hand on your head and pledge your undying fealty to the dark lord Kthulu, and then you meet me on the sabbath to kill a child and make them into soup.” 

He smiles, fluttering his eyelashes at you innocently. 

“Are you fucking serious?” You blurt. 

“Of course I’m not fucking serious– what is this, the dark ages?” He snorts as he lowers the composition book. “Nah, we don’t do human sacrifice on the sabbath anymore, it was getting too difficult to evade the witch hunters.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He flashes you a disarming grin. You can feel yourself halfway smirking as well, incredulous but somehow enjoying his humor. Then he shakes his head and says, seriously, “No, you do have to sign my book, though. And then meet me back here on the full moon to fuck.”

You blink at him, reeling from the whiplash of that. “You… I’m sorry?”

“I find it best not to sugarcoat it, y’know.” He shrugs, “Think of this as a marriage, of sorts. I give you the power to smite thine enemies, live deliciously, blah blah blah, and then you meet me at the crossroads every full moon to be my whore and we fuck like bunnies all night. Simple as that.”

“That’s far from simple.”

“It doesn’t have to be monogamous, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he continues frankly, “except on the full moon. I won’t compromise about that– you’ll be all mine, and I’m all yours. No takesies backsies.”

“No– that’s not–” You exhale, holding your hands over your eyes. “I’m just… not promiscuous like that…”

“Sweetheart.” He waits until you’ve lowered your hands to look at him, and he hums, with a saccharine smile that reminds you of the power you’d felt sweep through the clearing when he arrived. “You won’t be the first good girl I’ve broken, and you won’t be the last. If you’re worried about promiscuity, well… I answered your petition. I know what goes on in that pretty head, and it barely scratches the surface of what I’ve seen and done.” 

The toe of his boot barely nudges the edge of your circle, and a spark crackles in the dark from the impact. The light dances in his eyes longer than it remains in the air, like they caught the spark and ignited. 

“Trust me,” he says, drawing you in with the low register of his voice. “I can give you more than power. I can give you protection. I can give you real happiness. Karma’s a fucking bitch, so I can be, too. This is just such a little thing in return. And who knows… you may even like it.”

You shiver at that, even though his presence feels hot, like his stream of lava is surrounding you, crowding you in, boiling you where you stand. He’s right– you absolutely might like it. 

Because there’s just something magnetic between you, isn’t there? You can sense it, more than any heat and any sort of primal fear you might have instinctively at his presence. There’s a certain pull you feel toward him, emanating even through the salt barrier on the ground. 

You want to wrap yourself in him. Boil you alive, burn you to a crisp, destroy you– you don’t care.

“Or… is it that you don’t like this body?” He wonders aloud, striding backward two steps. He turns, his hand lifting his seemingly ever-burning cigarette to his lips. “Figures– y’know, I can be anything you want me to be, babydoll.”

Confused, you watch as he transforms in front of you. In the length of two steps while he paces across the clearing, his face and body stretches and contorts, until you’re not staring at the same visage anymore. He stops, and he turns to you with his palms up, like he’s waiting for your approval. 

You’re looking at Tom fucking Cruise. 

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” you shake your head vehemently, scowling. You wave your hands demandingly, “Put it back. You were so hot before– please, please go back to the way you were.”

The demon grins and turns his head, throwing the cigarette away. His hair grows back to its previous length, his face morphing as if made of clay until you meet the same pretty smile you’ve come to enjoy looking at. 

He chuckles, grabbing a lock of his hair and drawing it across his lips. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course,” you murmur, but you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can hear it. His eyes are embers, blazing at you from beneath his bangs. “Is that what you normally look like? Is that your true form?”

He makes an iffy sound. “It’s what I looked like when I was human. My true form has more horns and unhinged jaws and claws and all that. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I thought you said you could read my mind. Do you know how much monster porn I’ve consumed? That’s hot as shit to me,” you argue, and he snaps his head towards you in surprise. You point at yourself. “Freak and misfit.”

He laughs, and it sounds like the roaring of an out of control fire, burning up everything in its path. He kicks his heel on the ground and steps up to your circle again. “I like you, baby. I really do. What do you say?”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, an annoying lump forming in your throat with the question. You’ve been burned before by people far less powerful than this demon, yet who still hold so much power over you. However much they have.

“You can’t,” he answers, more honestly than most would. He tilts his head with a crooked smile. “Not to get all preachy on you, but even if I wasn’t a demon… trust is built, not a given. ‘The devil you know,’ right? Better than the one that you don’t.”

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice coming out breathy and winded the longer you gaze up into his eyes.

“Trust me to be… intense, I guess,” he shrugs. “And probably impulsive. But I’ll always deliver on our deal. Be my witch, my wife, my whore– whatever you want to call it, but be mine. I think we’ll have so much fun together.”

“Yeah, I think– I think I will.” You’re nodding, and his smile grows with yours. “I want to.”

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

Your toe scuffs the boundary on the ground, breaking the circle. Immediately, your senses are assaulted by smoke, not just the tobacco he’s been smoking but the scent of a wildfire, of cities burned to ashes, of desolation and destruction and pyroclastic flow and roaring, exploding volcanoes. 

Your demon crosses the line you’d drawn on the ground with ease, producing the worn composition book in his hand again. The cover reads Hellfire Club in chicken scratch handwriting. 

“Are there others?” You ask, prompted by the word Club on the front as he flips open the book to a middle page. An agreement is already written out in red ink. “Do you have more than one, um…”

“Consort?” He whispers in your ear. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and your stomach flutters. “Not for a long time. I’m very picky about my partners. They have to be just as much of a freak as I am.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, although the admission makes you feel… better, in a way. You squint in the dark, but with the exception of the candles around your circle, there’s nothing to allow you to properly read what’s written on the page. 

He sighs, shifting on his feet beside you. “Are you one of those people who’ll read the whole contract?”

“Absolutely I am,” you hum. The book feels heavier in your hands than it should. “Can you give me a light?”

“Jesus Christ.” He produces a flame from his forefinger just as you turn to give him a confused look. 

“Shouldn’t you, like… evaporate after saying that?”

In the yellow glow of the flame, he just blinks at you, looking amused. “Things aren’t as black and white as you think they are, believe me.”

You snatch his wrist and yank his arm closer to the page. His body collides with yours, and he grunts in your ear as he wraps his other arm around you, embracing you from behind. You’re engulfed in the scent of smoke and the heat of his flames, impossibly hot and comforting all the same. 

His hair brushes your shoulder as you read his contract. It’s just a few lines, but the weight they hold will seal your fate. 

The agreement made this night of the dark moon shall henceforth be enacted from the signing of this document, that hereby renders the human party’s soul bound to the infernal party. Witness that the first party must appear before the second party each full moon to lay in matrimonial fashion, and that in return the first party shall be protected and given the powers of the second from here until the human’s mortal passing. 

“Aww, that’s sweet,” you coo, tracing the red ink with your fingers. 

The demon over your shoulder rolls his eyes. “It’s a fucking pre-nup.”

“Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, though, does it?” You murmur. “I mean, I get the power to change my circumstances and you get– what– sex once a month?”

His hand tightens on your waist, and you pause. You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes flicker dangerously, so close to yours. They aren’t just glowing coals- this close, you can see the small details. You can see the swirling, the churning of lava within them.

“It’s not just sex, is it?”

“What do you think making a deal with a demon entails, sweetheart? Read the fine print.”

You look back at the page. There are no other words on it, save for the ones you’ve already read. “I don’t…?”

“It’s your soul, honey,” he mutters, pointing at the word. His mouth is muffled against your shoulder as he peers over it. “I won’t ask anything of you other than the sex, as long as you live. But right now, you’re offering up your soul. And once your life is up, you get to be just like me. Understand?”

“I… yeah. I understand.” You let go of his wrist, but pause over the pages of the book. “I don’t have anything to sign with.”

Wordlessly, the demon takes your hand. You let him caress your wrist, feeling your pulse with his thumb. Then, before you realize what’s happening, a sharp sting makes you yelp as he cuts your skin with his pointed thumbnail. 

He shushes you, letting the blood well up on your skin. “I did say you needed to sign with blood.”

Your voice shakes when you hold your dripping wrist over the page. “I thought you said you were joking.”

“Not about the book. Rules of the trade, I can’t change it.” Your blood splatters the notebook, dripping into the crease of the page. Once he’s satisfied, he lifts your wrist to his mouth and closes his lips around the small wound. It heals in a heartbeat. 

“Is that it, then?” You ask, mesmerized by the sight and feeling of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t you have to sign?”

Your demon kisses your wrist gently, his lips soft, inviting. “This is going to hurt,” he warns, and you nod. The heat of his breath makes your skin tingle, all your nerves on high alert. 

But then that tingling turns into a burn, that turns into a searing pain. You feel like your skin is on fire, an invisible hot brand held against your wrist. You cry out as he holds you close, letting you bury your face into his neck, holding you up as your knees threaten to buckle. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs to you as you whimper. He holds your arm as the pain fades into a throbbing ache, cradles your hand against his cheek as he coos into your hair. “You’re so strong. Not many people can handle my mark, you know. Fate works in funny ways.”

Your demon holds you until you can stand on your own, until your breathing evens out and you can compose yourself. He shushes you quietly, rocking you from side-to-side with a soothing hand stroking your head. Then he holds your face, and kisses your tear stained cheeks. The touch of his lips stokes at flames beneath your skin.

“I’ll look forward to our time together, little witch,” he whispers. And with a quick, chaste kiss to your lips, he disappears entirely. 

You stay in the circle for a while, clutching your throbbing wrist and crying frustrated tears. You wonder if you made the right decision, and yet, you don’t understand why you just want him to come back. You miss the comfort of his presence, even if you don’t know enough about him to justify it. All he did was hurt your arm and take your blood and kiss away your tears and make you a witch. 

It’s too late to go back on your decision now. There’s an all-encompassing fire you can feel burning in your veins, emitting from the pulsating wound on your wrist. His power. His fire. 

You pull your hand away from your wrist to finally inspect the mark that he branded you with, declaring you his in the same chicken scratch that had been on the cover of his book. It’s small enough that a well placed bracelet would cover it, but you don’t know that you’ll want to.

Eddie.

Your demon’s name is Eddie.

[denial-permanente]

Hey how are you? Big fan of your page and content. At the beginning of this year I confessed to my girlfriend of 6 years that I have a chastity fetish and I wanted her to lock my member up while we had our “fun time”. Surprisingly she was very open to the idea and we soon incorporated a chastity cage into our sex life. It has been amazing. It has opened a new side to me that I never knew existed. It took a bit of getting used to for the both of us but over time we have come to adore it. A majority of the time we have sex now my girlfriend instructs me to put my cage on before we begin.

A couple of weeks ago I brought up the idea of wearing the chastity cage for a longer period of time rather than only during our fun time. She interested with the idea but she believed it impossible.

For a little bit of context, we live together but due to work I’m only home from Friday nights when I get off of work till Monday mornings when I have to leave for work again.

Knowing this my girlfriend had quite a handful of concerns.

1. Her absolute biggest concern was she believed there was no way I could properly clean myself down there while locked in a cage. She says that wearing the cage for longer than a few hours at a time would be extremely de-hygienic and nasty.

2. Her next biggest concern is that since we only really see each other 2 days a week she thinks that there’s too much time between us seeing each other. “what if you NEED to get the cage off on a Monday, like an incident happens at work but we’re nowhere near each other and you have to wait all the way till Friday when you see me again?”

Because of this concern I tried to negotiate with what if I wore it during the weekends when I’m home. But then she rebuttals with “you basically already do so what difference would it make?”

3. A smaller concern for her is she is uncertain of the risks that come with wearing a chastity cage for long periods of time. An example she said was “what if you wore the cage for too long and your dick started to shrink?” I tried to tell her that that was just a myth but she seemed pretty adamant.

I guess my question is do you have any advice on what to do in this type of situation? Any words of wisdom that I could tell her in order to ease her mind about this? She says she would love to at least give it a try but she’s far too concerned about all the things that could go wrong. She says she thinks wearing a chastity cage for longer periods of time is just too unrealistic and isn’t possible.

It’s something that I’d love to do so should I try to talk to her about it again or just give up on the idea?

Believe it or not, I am probably like your girlfriend in that I worry about the practical aspects. For a very long time I would worry about what if my husband had an accident, or what if he had to remove it and didn't have the key. Even now, 25 years later I still sometimes worry if I know he's doing something dangerous like working on the roof or hiking in the woods or something. All I can say is that those concerns eventually get less and less concerning as time goes on and wearing a cage becomes second nature to the both of you.

I will let @that-tom-allen answer the part about hygiene and shrinkage, but in all these years that has never been a problem. I'm sure he can explain it better. I can tell you that I don't ever remember him having any issues.

A lot of men seem to want to rush into being lockedn24/7. Your girlfriend is being cautious and concerned. If she has a Tumblr account please have her message me for questions or even just moral support.

🔏 Tom here. First, as @mrs--edge wrote, if possible have your gf drop by to ask her soenof these questions directly. You can create an account for her, she doesn't need to be posting anything. Actually, considering some of the chastity related material on Tumblr, maybe you don't want her looking at too much. 😏

I don't know what kind of cage you have. My routine is to shower at night, and let things air dry. Then in the morning I put a dab of Gold Bond cream inside and swab it around with a Q tip. The cream is water soluble and will pick up body oil, sweat, stray urine, etc., and will wash out easily in a hot shower.

It also helps to have a tiny brush to swab around some soapy water inside the cage during your shower. I almost never need to unlock my cage to clean.

Now, about the shrinkage. I have a post on here about that. Check the FAQ for more detail, but here's the quickie: shrinkage is a myth, usually written about by guys who have SPH fetishes. The penis is not a muscle, and does not atrophy like muscle. It is mainly a meat hydraulic tube of connective tissue and blood vessels. Shrinkage is mainly a factor of the hydraulic balloons not having a chance to stretch out. Removing the cage and getting a few days of, err, healthy exercise should be sufficient to bring things back to size.

[blommp717]

i guess you don’t answer anymore but i’m hoping you at least read this because it’s genuine and i feel like i have nowhere else to post this. i just want someone to hear me. ignore this if it’s too long. i want to thank you for your posts. they are the only writings that have truly resonated with me ever since i discovered the law, neville, states, being, whatever we call this thing. but i’ll be honest i’m giving up today. i discovered the ‘law of attraction’ in 2019 when i was 18 years old. it is now getting to the last quarter of 2024 and i am 23 where i’ve evolved in understanding to where i found ‘nondualism’. i went from law of attraction -> law of assumption & neville goddard -> robotic affirming -> mindset fixing & joe dispensa -> states & edward art -> nondualism. however… i have never manifested a single thing in my life. i used to be filled with anxiety when i said this. fearing these words would cause it to keep going on but i don’t even want to fear anymore. it’s just the truth. your posts taught me that i don’t have to fear my words anymore anyways. i’ve had a dream for a long time. i don’t believe i will ever reach this dream anymore. along with that dream i also just really wanted good for my family and i. you know the basics like financial freedom, happiness, mended relationships. but throughout everything i’ve learned i could never make it work and i’m just done. i guess i will return to living a normal life and just hoping i make it. i hope i find happiness or just.. anything. i’m just letting go of it all because i feel like things shouldn’t be this hard. even going to caleb’s channel and watching his recent ‘your manifestation isn’t taking long, you are’ video…. i’m just… exhausted. i just dont know how to do this and i don’t think i can take life anymore anyways. but yeah i just wanted to say thank you. even though i could never find success, you taught me who I Am. and i’ll forever be grateful for your wisdom even though you’re a bit younger than me. i hope you find continued success and live a happy life. sincerely

THIS IS JUST THE FIRST PART TO THE HUGE POST, PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIME

After what felt like months away from tumblr I really dove into self-inquiry fully, and of course still am, and I promised you guys a mega post so here’s the initial information so far. There is more to come.

IM SORRY IF THERE ARE ERRORS IN GRAMMAR OR SMTH I WROTE THIS AT MANY DIFFERENT MOMENTS THROUGHOUT THE DAY!! FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS, ETC BUT PLS DONT ASK BY RESPONDING TO THIS POST, ITLL CAUSE SO MUCH SPAM ON THE FEED AND MY ASKS PAGE

Hello! Yes I have started looking back into my inbox (THERE ALLOT OF ASKS 😭😭🫶) but I absolutely plan on answering as many as possible, and because your post resonated with how I used to feel, I want to answer yours first.

So to begin with, It makes me so happy to know that what I’ve written has some kind of affect (that being positive). I can’t remember if I told you guys how old I was but I must have cus you seem to know 😭😭, yes I’m 19 we’re very close in age, this moment in life is when allot of us who figure out this stuff lean into it more because we realize how much of a leg up we have if we just “apply” the teachings this early on.

So first what I want to say to you is, no, your not giving up on a dream and neither are you going to live a normal life, I’ll make sure of that, this beautiful world that we step into gives us so much insight on what we inherently are. But I need to remind you and everyone else, this is not some big secret that has to be practiced, it’s a look at what we are and always will be. You have purpose and you deserve to be happy and enjoy a life that’s easy and fulfilling. I apologize in advance because this is going to be a pretty long post!! 🫶🫶

Let’s get rid of the labels and titles we’ve given these understandings as if they are for someone to learn and master. No one masters manifestation, no one will ever master manifestation and I truly don’t care for how many “success stories” they have, it doesn’t hold proving value of what they are (notice how I didn’t say who), we are not who’s, but that’s for later in the post.

The reason I’ve stepped away from the concept of manifesting is because it is inherently lack and separation based. No matter the teaching, they all seem to glorify the idea of getting and achieving which puts great pressure on success stories and all that rubbish. (Not me turning British) 😝😝, okay sorry, so yeah this also goes for nondualism, I don’t associate a title with what I learn, it’s not NonDualism it’s actually just self discovery in disguise of a teaching. But for this exact reason I don’t think to myself “I need to learn NonDualism better”, nononooooo I made this mistake wayyy to much due to the sole fact that I came in with the expectation that this would now teach me the secrets of manifesting. This is kind of the set up to more desire and lack, which is actually the opposite of the self-realization “journey”.

So, when you say you have never manifested anything in your life, I say this with incredible pleasure, that this is impossible, I know I know, before you start thinking to yourself that youve heard this before but I don’t think people go that in depth as to what that even means. So, your life and your problems, are not actually problems.

Self-realization is not the journey for the person to become consciousness, but to understand that you ARE consciousness to begin with. You does no reference a someone, but “ “.

This is going to be, quite a post so PLEASE hang in there. And I just want to add in, this is still not a seperate being trying to understand that it’s connected to conciousness, no, you as conciousness, infinite knowing, are so involved with the content that you appear as, you’ve tricked yourself into thinking that you are just 1 thing of the content. Let me use my first example.

We have given ourselves the greatest interpretation and key to knowing ourself, and that’s dreaming.

Every night, we sleep, HOORRAAYYYY, now let’s get into the details because this is where the magic happens and it clicks.

Take the moment before a dream appears, recognize that when the eyes are closed there’s this presence. Not the darkness, the presence. Something, but not a thing.

Stay here and forget the rest of the world exists for a moment. Now there is only this presence, it’s knowing, it’s being right? Now there’s no actual material but regardless, it is, something. This isn’t something out of this world it’s literally, you. From this, knowing or no-thingness, comes expressions, absolutely infinite potential, this is registered as a dream, but, before the dream in any way can be experienced, there always has to be some type of interpreter/lens, this comes in the form a person or better yet, senses. Of course, there’s nothing to the senses or the person but whatever it’s formulated from, which was that presence/knowing. The activity of this infinite potential that is the knowing, (you asleep) appears, only with the help of a pov/sight.

Nonetheless, it plays out, it plays stories of absolutely anything, for no reason at all, and as it does, we get lost to it, it starts to become real, and without even realizing it, it’s no longer a dream but something we’re experiencing, now you are the character in the dream and you naturally play out the dialogue and storyline and explore the fields, magic towers, and laugh and dance and make friends, and then you wake up.

When you wake up, you recognize “oh, nothing was actually happening”, now of course, when your the person in the dream it is very real, but even then, is it? Knowing what you know, there wasn’t actually a place with dialogue, no character of its own experience or life, no actual forests or fields and magic, no one actually laughing and dancing or friends, but simply the appearance of that. The illusion.

And it’s not that it’s only a formulation of you when you realize it is, but it always is, the dream doesn’t only become an illusion or “fake” when you wake up, it’s naturally just fake, REGARDLESS of how it seems to be. And regardless we sleep every night knowing that we’ll forget it’s a dream.

So I think you can see where I’m headed with this, I’m going to use the example Rupert Spira uses but twist it a bit.

You go to sleep in Australia and dream yourself in the streets of Paris, and you take on the identity of John, you don’t actually become John and experience the streets of Paris.

Now, John drinks coffee and he feels the sunlight warm his skin, sees the greenery, feels the wind, all of it. But despite the way it all seems the sunlight, the sensations that John has, is not actually real, and neither is John. John isn’t actually feeling anything, he doesn’t exist and there is no Paris being traveled. And it’s not John that realizes/awakens to the understanding that he’s fake and this is all a dream, it’s you, asleep in Australia that realizes it as you modulate/formulate as the streets of Paris, the coffee, and the greenery, and John, understand?

The activity of that presence, if you recall when we talked about closing your eyes, formulated as something that seemed so real, and that doesn’t give any reality to the dream itself, because there is no separating the knowing from the content known. Without the “space” for it to appear or form from, how on earth would there be the content? A bigger step forward is to realize that there isn’t even an actual dream occurring but it’s all the self knowing presence of, well, knowing. I want to add something very important before moving on.

Knowing does not happen for the purpose of pleasure, we naturally deconstruct false ideas like this as we go, but something you MUST understand about the nature of existence is, none of this is appearing for the purpose of ant experience, there isn’t actually an experience. No one is enjoying nor hating the illusion, it is simply an appearance.

In the same way that the aware/presence before the dream appears from it simply is, in this way, we are. It’s like saying the TV screen plays a movie and experiences it, or does it for the purpose of experience, no that’s silly, knowing has no inherent motive, it is, you (infinite knowing) don’t “happen” for a purpose, never mind happen at all, you are, and in this do you take form of something, your self aware nature of course knows the content of your own being, but that doesn’t mean the illusion can enjoy itself, or that you enjoy or experience the illusion, it’s just a plain appearance, and that’s it.

For example, when you close your eyes on this next demonstration, truly try to grasp the essence of what I’m trying to explain.

Bring from the nothingness/knowing when you close your eyes, a blue vase, know it in every aspect you can, incorporate every sense you can (even taste if your a little freaky 🫦🫦😭) and make it as present as possible. After you open your eyes I have a question for you. (I’m serious, do the damn practice it’ll help you) please take as much time you need to truly get in there (not too long I can’t wait all day)

okay hey, your back, now answer me this, from what did this immersive appearance take reality from? You and I know that there’s no actual vase despite its presence, no matter the vibrant or dull colors, no matter the feel, rough or glossy, its taste 🫦😭, its feel, etc. So what was the substance that formulated this? If you guessed knowing, your soooooo correct, if you didn’t it’s okay you get brownie points 🫶. But yes, now I need you to understand this verrrry clearly, the vase was not real!!!! Yet it appeared that way! This is AN ILLUSION SURPIRISISIEIEIEIEIEIEISISBWHH- yes. No matter how much you want to convince yourself and go back to the vase and its appearance and its feel or colors or any aspect of it, it wasn’t ACTUALLY happening and that means it didn’t take place for anyone or anywhere!!! All there was present was knowing, from knowing forms vase and every seemingly alternate way that it is known, feeling is a form of knowing, literally every sense is just a form of knowing. Every sense that was “used” to understand the vase was all just aspects and appearances of knowing, the color, the sounds, the taste, the feels, they didn’t formulate anywhere else, but nonetheless appeared as immersive and real because YOU BECAME FOCUSED ON THE CONTENT OF THE APPEARANCE RATHER THAN RECOGNIZE THAT IT WAS JUST APPEARANCE. And even though the content of the appearance you formed as became the focus, it still didn’t change the objective fact that there wasn’t someone actually there and experiencing it in any way.

The knowing in/on which appearances formulate is not something different than the appearance, there is nothing to the illusion but its reality, and its reality is knowing. In this way, the illusion couldn’t even be described as something real or taking place, as if it could exist apart from the source of it.

Knowing this is also knowing there is no such thing as the knowing OF, we never know of things or of experiences as if they are something seperate and exist seperatley from knowing itself, that’s literally impossible. Moving forward

You are not the person/character, and it’s not that you are a limited being and you have to wake up to the idea that you are infinite knowing, you have to realize that you were never something seperate, and that this is simply the modulation of your being, and it’s not a someone it’s more of a something.

Let’s starts stabilizing this.

To all of the experiences across centuries, theres one constant amongst the billions of people who’ve lived and are now and that is, I Am. We might not know for certain about anything else ever in this entire universe, and we might not even know who or what we are but for a fact we can say, yes, I am.

There’s no true word that can describe the infinite essence of being, so we use knowing or conciousness or god, all completely the same.

So, to every experience, without an ounce of doubt, there can be the claim, I am. This is knowing, and only from knowing comes the statement, because we must know we are in order to claim that we are. I think something that can capture this is a newborn, imagine yourself to be newly born, mere seconds I mean, eyes closed. You have no understand of anything, no thoughts, no memories, no identity, your pure experience is simply being/knowing, and I don’t mean the action of knowing, that’s not a real thing. Knowing is inherent, you don’t force it.

Going back to experiences. Any experience that is recognized, any seeing, and hearing, tasting touching, and of course feeling, is assumed to be the experience of the body and this is therefore falsely established as “me”, in doing so, we forget our true nature of freedom and limit our understanding and abilities to the limitations of the body.

I’m now going to help you realize the body is an interpreter, and not of a world that’s happening somewhere in time and space, but that the world is the interpretation/modulation/illusion/dream/appearance of our shared infinite being, AFTER being recognized through the interpretations, (sensations and perceptions). This also means that it’s in no way an actual measurement to what you fully are.

What experience is there to seeing? Better yet let me narrow it down, there is nothing to seeing as if there is someone doing the seeing. Seeing simply is. There’s no one to do it, just what is. There is sight, how is there an acknowledgment of the sight/seeing? There must be something to it that gives the understanding “oh I’m seeing this”. (Hint, it’s the same thing that let you know, that “I Am”). Knowing, yes, not knowing as an action, that’s not real, people don’t know, knowing is the essence of what we are (we are not people). But just wait for that. So all there is to sight is knowing, and I don’t think I have to do this but you can say the same about absolutely every other sense, because every single “experience” absolutely requires knowing. Without knowing, “experience” never is, I think we can all acknowledge that.

There is no such thing as the experience of being a human, Why are we deciding that this is what’s it’s like to be humans, we know humans we acknowledge humans but there is no such thing as being a human, in the same way that there’s no true way that there is something to being a fox or a bird or a rock, it’s only with labels are these ideas decided.

The only thing you’ll be able to muster up is memories, emotions, etc, but that doesn’t make it the inherent experience of being a human. Our first and only experience of what we are is knowing, and then knowing that we are, that’s it. In the same way that a babies first experience is not “I am a baby” or “I am a human”, rather it’s just knowing. If being human was our nature, that’s all we’d recognize, and from the very beginning. Our experience does not actually change from being/knowing, we simply forget that there is the knowing, and decide to focus on the body to be “me” or “human”.

You don’t need senses to know you are. Knowing is something unimaginable. Go ahead and try to find it by closing your eyes or even with them open. Can you grab or touch the knowing. Can you recognize its dimensions or what its appearance is? How old or young is it?

Do me a favor and find the edge where knowing starts and stops.

Let me know when you find it because you never will.

Even when you try, it’s only conciousness itself that searches for its own parameters.

By recognizing that your truly not the body, or this person you as knowing have pretended to become, the made up problems of the person disappear, well actually, you realize that there is no person that has problems, only an idea. Only the idea that I am someone and something is happening to me, I am something seperate and need saving. There isn’t actually a seperate self, the seperate self is the activity that you as knowing are, when you become involved with the content and forget your true nature. And what’s truly the main takeaway from this is that, even when it seems like you’ve lost it and now you have to restart and understand it all over again, you as knowing haven’t gone anywhere, your the one pretending to be something lost, and not on purpose, but because you involve yourself too heavily in the appearances without recognizing where they originate from.

From what we know so far, I hope in some way you’re able to recognize that there is no one doing manifestations and having success stories. You ARE the manifestation and it will NEVER be any other way, whether we recognize it or not, that’s the beauty. So no matter if we go on about this appearance of life and say we don’t get it and move on, you as conciousness will continue to play the roles, because there is no off switch to this.

I’m hope this has been able to start untying the blinds over your “eyes” and you’re starting to somewhat understand the truth of what you/we are. This is only the beginning and it’s only going to get more incredible and beautiful from here. But for now I’m shleeepy hehehe, I’ll talk to you soon, never ever give up on your dreams!!!! 🫶❤️❤️

[unknownperson246]

*this was based off a request but I accidentally deleted the old copy of this fic from tumblr so I am reuploading it*

Confused:

words: 615

warnings: *fluff*

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

You had just gotten your wisdom teeth removed. Axl your boyfriend had driven you back home after you were all loopy from surgery. You were oddly quiet for someone who just got their wisdom teeth removed with anesthesia involved in the procedure. Axl was worried the entire time. You were dazed and confused. You were so out of it. Suddenly a fear you never told Axl about came to your head. You waited until you got home trying so hard not to say it out loud fearing that it would make Axl crash his car. Even when you felt like you were in another world you still were very cautious and rational about things. You loved Axl like crazy. You would do anything for him. He knew instantly he would do anything for you. Your fear was an ass and it kept haunting you ever since you were with Axl. You were always so worried that he was going to cheat on you or that he already had. The anesthesia wasn’t helping your paranoia. You and Axl finally got home after the tense drive. Axl was worried that you were quiet and not saying anything goofy because generally, anyone with anesthesia is loud and very verbal. 

“Babe you okay?” They were Axl's first word since after your wisdom teeth surgery. 

“Mhm.” your answer was short.

“I’m scared you're cheating on me,” you said to Axl with your lips starting to quiver.

“What? Finally, the anesthesia hit you!” Axl giggled.

He noticed your lips quivering and he realized that it wasn’t a joke anymore. 

“You’re serious?” He asked you not knowing how much this question affected you.

He was starting to wonder how often you thought he was cheating on you. He was mad but he knew it wasn’t your fault. Despite his anger, he wrapped his arms around you to comfort you in your confusing and scary haze. You wanted to hug him forever. You never wanted to let go of him. You wanted to know that Axl was yours forever. He broke the hug and saw the tears in your eyes. He wiped them gently.  

“Please don’t break up with me” You begged Axl with a pleading tone.

“Shh, I’m not going to break up with you. Honey the anesthesia is just making you think scary and funny thoughts. I promise that I’m not cheating on you or that I’m not going to break up with you” Axl whispered knowing how much of a headache you're probably in. 

Axl held your hips and he carried you into the bedroom over his shoulder because every time you moved you fell over.

“Here, lay down in bed,” Axl said before he moved the blankets out of the way for you. 

You took his hand as he helped you lay down. He got in the space beside you and he calmed you down. You felt a lot better from Axl reassuring you. You were glad his temper didn’t spike up. 

“Axl my mouth hurts,” You said grabbing them and rubbing your cheeks.

Axl grabbed your hand off of your face.

“Honey, don't do that. That will make the pain worse and it won’t heal quickly.” Axl had gotten you some salt water to help with the pain. 

“Rinse your mouth with this later. Once you're less loopy. I will help you” He said, giving your cheek a quick peck. 

“Let’s go to sleep now,” You said, sounding a bit more like your usual self now.

“Sure,” Axl said as he laid down and draped the blanket over you and himself making sure you were all warm and cozy. 

You and Axl fell asleep until the next morning. 

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter One

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Author's Note: After a lot of encouragement, I will be posting chapters in their entirety here and on AO3. Many many huge thanks to @acrossthesestars for being my co-pilot, and for holding my hand through writing this story. Thank you to everyone who has reblogged and commented. Your words mean the world to me.

CHAPTER ONE - THE WEIGHT THAT BROUGHT US HERE

Alicent watched the lords of the council settle into their seats, placing their markers in the proper place. Lord Tyland Lannister took his seat at the opposite end of the magnificent table, Lord Lyman Beesbury to his right. Maester Mellos and then Lord Larys at her own left hand. Jasper Wylde sat beside her father’s usual place at the right hand. The power of the realm all concentrated right in this room. They prayed to the Crone for guidance and wisdom at the beginning of every meeting, a practice that had thankfully not reached the ears of the king, as he’d been cloistered in his rooms since his illness had taken more of his body. It was one thing to allow her Faith to grace their dinner table. It was a whole other to have the Faith find its place at the Small Council. While his signature still graced the decrees, and his decisions still paramount for he was the King, Viserys had left the dealings of the realm to them. It was for the best - Viserys’ mind was giving way to his illness and the less seen, the better. Alicent didn’t know what she preferred: her husband demeaning her and neglecting her children, or him calling her Aemma when she came to care for him at night.

She grazed her fingers over the polished black marble ball in front of her as Maester Mellos began rattling off the never ending fighting between the Brackens and Blackwoods that not even the Father bearing down from the heavens himself could stop. They continued to tear themselves apart as if they would win all the gold in Casterly Rock for the longest, most ridiculous spat that the Tullys were no longer capable of handling. Sometimes she wished she could just drag charcoal lines along the map, piece off the floodplains to the north and the west and the mountains, let the other kingdoms take their pieces.

“Begs the question if perhaps it isn’t time to elect a new Lord Paramount to bring them to heel,” Lord Wylde harrumphed in his self-important way. The man was well and agreeable enough, Alicent thought, but every time he spoke, she missed Lyonel Strong. None of his proposals contained this ‘begging the question’ sort of nonsense, and none of Wylde’s attempts had any of the late Lord Strong’s well thought out solutions and easy friendliness.

“Unless grievous injustice is done, we cannot normally strip the title of Lord Paramount, but their inability to bring either house to heel since given the title is threatening the stability of the realm. Blackwoods own more land than the Tullys, and now we have reports they’ve gone undermining one another’s orchards, and putting others at risk.” Jasper turned his gaze to Larys, who had not spoken since the prayer. “Strong, your holding is Harrenhal. What do you have to say about this matter?”

Larys’ manner did not fool Alicent, but it worked wonders, as always, on Jasper. “This quarrel of theirs has lasted as long as the dynasty and longer still. King Jaehaerys brokered peace, and we cannot ascertain what sparked it again.” From the nervous licking of his lips to the fidgeting of his hands, he was a master at seeming far less dangerous than he truly was. “You might seek instead the opinion of my dearest uncle Simon. He is the castellan and knows both it and the Riverlands far better than I do, as I’ve been here during most of this recent infighting. ”

Wylde humphed, twitching his nose in such a way that his bushy mustache reminded Alicent of a walrus she’d seen at Driftmark. She dug her nails into her palm to hold back her laugh. “Should we offer the Tullys more incentive?” Wylde blustered, reaching for a solution that he could take credit for.

“Incentive for not letting their bannerman destroy harvests?” Tyland Lannister snorted, reclined in his chair as if he were the one running the meeting. “That’s their duty. If they can’t do it, then there’s a bigger issue to deal with.”

“Perhaps a betrothal,” Lord Beesbury spoke up, his eyes darting from Larys’ to hers. Alicent straightened, watching the man try to figure out how to present his own suggestion. “The Tullys are proud, and the Riverlands command a great host when they come together. Lord Tully’s great-grandson is around Princess Helaena’s age. It would be a show of friendship and goodwill.”

“A show of a dragon is what you mean, isn’t it?” Her father’s voice cut in smoothly, but she could see the annoyance in his eyes at the prospect of Helaena being sent to the Riverlands. She did not want her sweet girl sent so far away either, but his words hurt in their easy protectiveness of her daughter, when they had never done for herself.

“Dragons are a statement, my Lord Hand. If not the princess, perhaps… Lord Strong, your youngest sister is not yet married,” Beesbury continued, flush with ideas. Was Rhaenyra feeding them to him?

“If Grover Tully, or whomever is handling their seat, cannot bring them to heel, we should have the Lords Bracken and Blackwood come and explain themselves to the crown,” she cut in before Beesbury could really get his momentum going. Heads turned to look at her, and Alicent looked to the Grand Maester. “Send ravens today. By the moon’s turn, I want them before the Iron Throne explaining themselves.” There was a curl of satisfaction on her lips as the aging Mellos gestured to his assistant. “We should also have Lord Tully, or his son, also come to answer. I know Lord Grover has been recently ill,” she continued. Authority and compassion were the balance she must always strike, so that her decisions could not be questioned, her judgment nothing but sound. She was the Mother of the Realm after all.

“Well said, your Grace,” Larys said softly, that shadow blink of a smile on his face. Lord Beesbury’s suggestions were easily dismissed.

Tension knotted between her shoulder blades, and she shifted in her chair to relieve the pain. She drummed her fingers on the armrest of the chair as her father’s warning spun dizzily through her thoughts.

Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

That morning, Ser Criston found the boy who might be king passed out in the stables with his cock in hand; at least her father hadn’t found out. Alicent felt nauseated at the idea of sacrificing a girl barely younger than she’d been in an attempt to corral her son into leadership.

The doors of the chamber opened. Ser Harrold Westerling entered the room with the head dragonkeeper, Arryx, following behind. Her father rose not in a show of respect for the Kingsguard Commander, but some show of power - the unyielding stone and height of the tower that would not bow to neither wind nor storm.

“Forgive my tardiness, your Grace, my lords.”

Her father waved a hand and sat back down. “We were told that you were attending to an urgent matter, Lord Commander.”

Ser Harrold clasped his arm across his chest and bowed to her. “This morning, I was alerted to events that transpired last night inside of the dragonpit. Keeper Arryx wanted to speak of the matter to you personally.” Ser Harrold stepped back to allow the aging keeper to take the floor. Alicent gave her own nod to the man as he rose from his prostration.

“Dreamfyre has laid another clutch of eggs. Only three, your Grace, and she will let no one near them. Vhagar has been circling,” Arryx said.

Alicent frowned. Dreamfyre had not laid a clutch in several years now, and Vhagar rarely came to the pit. She was too old, too large, with little desire to be kept with her smaller brethren. The horrific beast preferred a rocky outcropping far out into the bay.

Aemond had given her a quizzical look when she’d brought it up once, when he was still bedridden and recovering from his mutilation. Her sweet boy was now strung through with a confidence that she’d never seen ignite within him when he had both eyes. The dangerous glint that confidence took as he’d grown older was also new.

She’s protecting what is hers, mother. We both are, he’d said.

“I have spoken with the Commander of the City Watch, your Grace, to ensure that those in the areas closest to the pit keep their distance unless absolutely necessary. It has allowed us to take stock of the current state of those neighborhoods.” Ser Harrold turned to look at Ser Otto. “A full report will be on your desk.”

Her father nodded, and Ser Harrold looked once more to the keeper.

Arryx shifted on his feet, and Alicent watched his eyes flick to the Grand Maester with an expression that she could not discern. The Citadel and the Hightowers have always stood side by side for the betterment of the realm, Alicent, and you’ll continue to foster that friendship, won’t you?

“Five of the kitlings have also died, your Grace. They were unbonded, brought from Dragonstone before…”

Before Daemon had come back.

“How many dragons does this put us at?” Her father’s deceptively mild tone was the opposite of his glee when Aemond had claimed Vhagar. The numbers requested were ones he’d calculated in his head, monthly, since he’d come back.

“Claimed, my lord?” Arryx asked, pausing momentarily. “Eleven, throughout the family. Lady Rhaena’s dragon hatched, but it was born twisted and sickly and did not last. I have not received word otherwise of any intention for Lady Rhaena to come and try to claim another dragon.”

Half of the dragons were claimed. Alicent watched her father drum his fingers along the table. Identifying the pattern took only a moment. He was counting.

Specifically, the dragons that were on their side.

“I want reports of the necropsies upon their completion,” her father said with a narrowed and assessing look, disturbed by the news. “The last thing we need is some strange illness to rip through all of them.”

Alicent chewed on the inside of her lip and watched the shining outline of the seven-pointed star beaming down on the table.

“Syrax is almost big enough for two riders now. Will you come touch the clouds with me, Alicent? Please?” Rhaenyra had always begged, mouth close to her ear, hands stroking her arms, her wounded and bloody fingers.

The joyful look that Aegon once gave her now reserved for a beast: “I’ve never known love until Sunfyre, mother. It’s like the world has color now that we’re together.”

“Dreamfyre keeps me tethered to the ground even as I fly in my dreams. She’s the only anchor I have,” said Helaena, who would withdraw from her touch as if it were a sting from a bee.

Little Daeron and his dragon clutched in his arms: “I can’t leave Tessarion behind, mother! I won’t know how to be happy without her!”

Dragons had robbed Alicent of everything.

“Thank you, Arryx. I will speak to the children and see what Prince Aemond might do about Vhagar.” The idea of her sweet, once immaculate and tender-hearted child being near that twisted, hoary thing still terrified her, no matter how gently reassuring Aemond could be.

Arryx did not move to leave just yet. “Forgive me, your Grace, but Vhagar is no Vermithor or Sunfyre: she is old and willful, and although she is bonded with our prince, I would suggest caution. He is… young, and Vhagar was forged in the fires of battle.”

He bowed once more before taking his leave.

Even in indescribable pain, in the face of his own father’s disregard and disdain, Aemond sought to soothe her. “Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

What else would her father do to get more dragons on their side?

Nervous tension pulsed in the silence left when the doors closed behind the dragonkeeper, filled only by the soft creak of the Kingsguard’s mail and the gentle clink of the chain around Grand Maester Mellos’ neck as he shifted in his chair, barely audible. The enduring mystery and curiosity of dragons was a specter of The Stranger above them all. Alicent had heard her kingly husband remind Rhaenyra repeatedly: Dragons were not pets. The bond with them should not blind their riders to the power that thrummed ancient and thick in their veins.

She breathed slowly, letting the quiet ease, refusing to meet anyone else’s eyes as the tumult of feelings inside of her crashed upon the jagged edges of her broken ribs. This was the right choice. Her babies were only half-Targaryen, and Rhaenyra’s bastards were the same, whether she’d ever admit to it or not.

Everyone in the room had grown up with the stories that the Conquerors spread when they forged the throne: The Valyrian blood magic that had made them dragonriders was only to be found in their Targaryen blood. That bloodline needed to remain pure. Yet, Rhaena’s pure Valyrian blood did not save her first dragon from being born sickly and dying quickly, while Aemond - Targaryen only by half - bonded with Vhagar, the most powerful beast in the world.

There were no further reasons to believe the Targaryens were gods after all, and above the realm they had conquered.

The great chair of the King creaked as she slowly rose, taking in the council before her. There were no Targaryens in this room, even if she had birthed her own clutch of half-dragons. Alicent bore this task without joy or fanfare. It was a duty to be endured for the good of her family, for the good of her realm.

She stood with her hands folded in front of her, the image of the Mother of the Realm. Alicent had done this once before, when she had declared that she was standing in an official capacity for her husband.

“My lords of the council,” She hedged a glance at her father before moving her gaze to each man at the table. Ladies of the realm should be on the council. “It is with great joy and love that the King and myself, with Lord Larys Strong, announce to the small council that we have arranged the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon Targaryen, and Lady Abrogail Strong.”

Each of the lords straightened in their chairs. Lord Beesbury frowned and glanced away from her. The uncertain and uncomfortable shifting in his chair belied the embarrassment he was attempting to hide. Alicent felt no need to point it out. It was a fine idea that he’d presented and not his fault he did not know what had already been decided. Even if he was Rhaenyra’s lapdog, Alicent would be the better person, and not rub his face in it.

The congratulations buzzed in her ears as she sat back down in her chair, and beneath the table, she tore at the skin along her left thumbnail. The pain was as dull as the congratulations in her ears. Her father’s voice was distant, jovial even.

They hadn’t even told Aegon and Abrogail yet. She remembered standing in the same position, knowing what was coming, knowing what it would destroy and desperately hoping that it might not.

I have decided to take a new wife. I intend to marry Lady Alicent Hightower before Spring’s end.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Rhaenyra forgive me forgivemeforgiveme.

“A feast is in order to announce Prince Aegon and Lady Abrogail’s betrothal,” Tyland’s jovial tone broke the silence. His suggestion—or statement, depending on how Alicent took it—was not one that she’d expected when she sat down in Viserys’ chair, but welcomed the confirmation of his support.

Meanwhile, Larys’s expression gave nothing away. He simply inclined his head in agreement.

Her son — her trueborn son — for all his faults, deserved to be celebrated. She was happy she didn’t have to fight for this. It was Mellos who spoke next: “Given the last wedding that was celebrated within these halls, it would be a reassuring gesture to the Lords of the Realm if they were given the opportunity, and for us to show unity within House Targaryen. With the Prince’s nameday in a few moons, perhaps we can celebrate with a tournament.”

Alicent’s eyes cut to her father, who smiled lightly, nodding in agreement but careful not to say a word, allowing the Maester to be responsible for the idea.

“Even better,” Tyland raised his goblet in agreement. “We haven’t had a proper celebration in years. What better occasion? Lord Rickard Reyne will be overjoyed to hear the honor bestowed on his granddaughter.” He looked over at her father. “I take it you’ll be writing to him, Lord Hand?”

The last time Alicent had seen her uncle Lord Rickard had been at her mother’s funeral: now no longer the worst day of her life, but the memory that was still seared into her mind. She recalled Lord Reyne as a stoic man, but he’d been kind to her in her grief. Alicent hoped the years had not taken that away from him, but they likely had.

Time always stole away kindness.

Lord Beesbury looked pensive. Alicent could practically hear the man pushing house markers along the map in his head as the conversation continued. “Was Princess Rhaenyra involved in such a discussion?”

“The Princess Rhaenyra has continued to seclude herself and,” he paused, his gaze heavy and considering as he took in those around the table. “Her second husband, Daemon Targaryen, at Dragonstone. Neither has she come to the small council as her status allows, nor has she engaged with matters of the realm that her being heir gives her right to,” her father said smoothly, and he was right. “The king still grieves his daughter’s choices, and she has yet to amend with him. I agree with Lord Lannister and our Grand Maester. This would show the strength and unity and willingness of House Targaryen to bond and celebrate with the realm.”

Beesbury gave a humorless chuckle. “And nothing to do with presenting Prince Aegon formally.” As a contender. As a choice - that was left unsaid.

Alicent felt a surge of anger inside of her, instinct compelling her to protect her children and pull the wool Viserys and Rhaenyra spun from Beesbury’s eyes so he could see the truths they refused to acknowledge.

Not long after Aemond had been born, Lord Lyonel had enlisted her in trying to get Viserys to hold another declaration to follow Rhaenyra, if she was truly his desired heir even with two healthy boys of his blood. The King had originally chosen Rhaenyra because of the loss of Baelon and Aemma. Everyone wanted to keep Daemon off the throne, lest he became another Maegor the Cruel… and now, he was to be Rhaenyra’s consort, and Viserys still would do nothing. Alicent refused to believe that Rhaenyra would kill her half-siblings, that she would kill Alicent’s children for whatever love had been there. Every dark, curly haired little boy caused her to fear not what Rhaenyra would decide, but what others would encourage her to do. Her father had not been wrong - her sons would be beacons of rebellion, damned by the man who had so desperately craved a son, yet now ignored. How bitter a pill.

Daemon terrified her. They should all be terrified of him. Daemon now had Rhaenyra’s ear and her heart and her body. Daemon was not one to hesitate if something stood in his way.

Did you fuck Daemon Targaryen in a pleasure house? Targaryens have such queer customs.

“Prince Aegon is eight and ten, an accomplished dragonrider, ah…” Mellos trailed off, and the uncertainty on his face clawed at Alicent’s insides. Failure was acid in her throat.

Either you prepare Aegon…

That boy who would be king had groped six serving girls at the last feast before drinking and whoring his way through the Street of Silk.

“My sister and heir is of unimpeachable character,” Larys’ quiet voice carried within the room. “As a child, Abrogail was a playmate of Prince Aegon and his siblings, and she has become a beloved ward of Queen Alicent, who has done a remarkable job of raising her after the deaths of our parents. I would consider her to be a prime example of all our realm offers to a family that has, if I may be candid, gone to great lengths to keep to their own since the conquest. Wouldn’t you agree, Grand Maester?”

That poor girl she’d now chained to him was a picture of the Maiden. It had taken everything to ensure that her father waited for it. She would not have another bride offered to the throne before she was of age, while her father wanted nothing more than for Aegon to grow up.

Tension crept back into the room at Larys’ words. Nobody would think to utter these thoughts had Viserys been sitting there. Mellos cleared his throat and avoided her father’s gaze to adjust the heavy chain around his neck. The title of Grand Maester had been his even before Viserys’ reign, and he was possibly the closest representative that was not her to speak to Viserys’ mind.

“I would agree, Lord Strong. Perhaps even exploring the eventuality of wedding Prince Aegon’s children to Prince Jacaerys’ would… reassure Princess Rhaenyra. She once suggested a betrothal between Princess Helaena and-”

“We already have other candidates in mind for my daughter,” Alicent cut in immediately. She wouldn’t say anything about Jace’s children and future grandchildren. She refused to entertain the idea that Helaena would marry Rhaneyra’s son to cover her indignity and insult to everything that she had been given and born into. “We have time before the wedding,” she said with a gentler tone. “A year should be more than enough to introduce them to the realm and start introducing Prince Aegon to newer responsibilities befitting his station.”

That was time enough to beat her son into someone who could be King.

Morning light streamed through the gauzy, sage curtains of the princess’ room. Abrogail licked the honey clinging to her fingers as she moved towards the washbasin, abandoning half-eaten bread and cold cuts of meat at the table. Helaena also ignored their meal as she lingered at the only window that could give her a good view of the Dragonpit. Vhagar had been on the prowl that morning, unusually territorial, and the change in the dragon’s temperament had entranced the friend whom she called sister. She jumped when Abby ventured near her, eyes wide and body tense as a startled cat, so the redhead pivoted in the opposite direction in order to retrieve Helaena’s bodice. Normally, she did not wear one unless the Queen noticed, but on days when her mind drifted, the structure of the garment seemed to keep Helaena focused on the moment instead of her dreams. The princess was somewhere else in her thoughts, mechanically holding up her arms to have the bodice slipped over her shift.

“I’m going to tighten the laces now, alright, Helaena?” Abrogail told the princess as she always did, walking through the process so she wasn’t surprised by anything.

Helaena gave no verbal indication that she was listening, but Abby noticed her pale blonde head bob in acceptance. Slowly, she began straightening the garment, mindful of keeping her touch on the lacing and the chemise from pulling and pinching uncomfortably and defeating the purpose.

“Pink and red, he might be dead. Blue and black, no coming back,” Helaena murmured. Her gaze drifted to Myrella Penrose, who approached with a yellow, diamond patterned dress for inspection. “I don’t want my scales to be so bright.” Helaena’s voice did not rise from her quiet tone, and her gaze flitted away.

“How about the new one from Sevenmas?” Abby offered brightly before Myrella’s face could twist into the uncertain and disturbed look it took whenever Helaena drifted. “The ocean blue one with the beading. That’ll be nice to feel, right, Helaena?”

The princess tilted her head about, humming. “Yes, that would be.” She threaded her fingers together, pressing in so the knuckles would crack. Myrella visibly winced at the sound, but Abby just shook her head and carefully tucked the laces into the bodice. “The perfect hug,” came the breathless statement, before Helaena’s bright lavender eyes finally focused away from whatever she was tracking to turn around and look towards her. Abby took the dress from Myrella and offered her cousin a smile as she held it up. She was used to Helaena’s inquisitive gazes, as if she was a bug under the pretty Maester’s glass Aemond had gifted his sister. “Do you need them, too?”

“A hug?” Abby frowned.

“Scales - armor to protect you,” she clarified. Helaena held her arms up to slide the dress over her head, and Abby left her to do the little buttons down the front herself. “Or would you prefer a pretty carapace? Silver and reds, greens and blue. Pinks and black and gold.”

Abby laughed at the idea of being covered in so many colors, and Helaena even returned the smile as she finished her buttons. It was a good sign, and the tingle of worry that had been crawling up and down along her spine immediately eased. “To be decorated in so many colors? That would make for lovely armor.”

Helaena’s mood was improving, which meant that when the Queen finally came in, she wouldn’t immediately launch into fretting and worrying about the princess being in ‘one of her episodes.’ Abby knew the Queen did not mean it badly, but it still made her uncomfortable. Were her mother still there, she would say something if Abby expressed her concern. She was alone here now, and things were as different as the day and night.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Alicent who entered. Helaena’s little smile turned bright and beaming: “Aemond!”

At four and ten, the boy was steadily growing with each passing turn of the moon. While bypassing Abrogail in height was no difficult feat, he now stood as tall as his sister and mother. Prince Aegon was the next family member he was bound to outgrow, and the Queen had already tasked her with ordering clothes to be made ready for when Aemond shot up again. Lord Otto towered over most, and he japed that Aemond might make it where Aegon had failed to surpass him.

Hearing Helaena’s joyous declaration, Abby caught a spray of pink blooming on his pale cheeks, and Aemond reached up to adjust the soft leather strap of his eyepatch. The scar no longer looked angry, but it was prominent; a ridge of thick skin that was only just smoothing out with time. The prince held a jar carefully in his hands. He took several steps before Abby clucked her tongue at him the way she would at her own cat, though Theraxis had not joined her that morning in Helaena’s room. Earlier, a maid brought along with their meals news that the cat was gallivanting in the discarded feathers while the scullery maids plucked chickens.

“Your mother will be up any minute. She said she doesn’t want to catch you in here anymore,” Abby warned with an arched brow. There was no censure in her teasing tone. Aemond was nearly her own little brother, although much was changing as they left their childhoods behind.

“She won’t be here for him,” Helaena said in a voice far more present than it had been before, Aemond’s very presence pulling her back down to earth and away from the clouds. “What did you bring me?” Even though her buttons were only half-done, Helaena rushed across the room to Aemond with her arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. “Oh! It’s beautiful! Abby! Look!” She held up the jar filled with little sticks and leaves – a fat blue and yellow cocoon precariously hanging from one forked stick inside. “I wonder if it belongs to the ones I released last year.”

“You’ll be the mother of all the moths and butterflies in the Red Keep,” Aemond said softly, so softly that Abby could hardly hear him despite standing close by.

Abrogail moved away from the siblings, smiling at Myrella and leading the woman to the opened door. “Thank you for your help this morning. I believe the Queen will need you more today. Let her know we’ll be going to the gardens later, if you please.” Lately, the Queen had been sending the Penrose woman to help Abby tend to the princess’ needs. It had made her nervous. When she asked the Queen if she was being replaced, the words stuck to her throat. Her Grace had been adamant that it was not the case at all, that it was only so Abrogail could learn from her in preparation for her own running of a household, and give Helaena time to get used to someone else helping her.

Another part of Abby wondered if the Queen knew Aemond was still coming to visit in the morning. Or worse, that Uncle Otto was spying. Abby was protective of her friends, her kin. They were siblings bonded through the years of fights in the mud and pranks and stories in the nursery. Bonds such as theirs were not so easily broken; they only changed as time passed, as things happened, like Aemond losing an eye.

Myrella Penrose gave her a tight smile and left down the hall. Abby watched her go, lingering in the door as Aemond and Helaena whispered in the room. Her friend’s quiet giggles were a rare sound, and Abby would do anything to protect those moments for her, for them both. She tugged at the embroidered cuffs of her dark blue-gray dress, thumbs brushing the little weirwood leaves sewn in delicate scarlet thread. Little golden dragons danced through them as a symbol of her ties with the family. Aegon had picked the golden thread, predictable as ever, when she’d asked his opinion.

She thought of the embroidered knot Helaena had been making – silver and green, tangling with red and black and gold. There were so many twists, but Helaena assured her that there was a rhyme to it, a dance with complicated steps. Aemond’s soft laugh cracked a bit, and Abby bit her lower lip to hide her giggle at the sound. She turned her head, and while she couldn’t quite make them out, she could see their shadows along the stone floor. They stood close together, heads bowed over something - maybe the jar, she couldn’t tell.

Heavy and purposeful footsteps echoed down the hall. Abby’s head snapped up from where she stood within the doorway, not immediately visible. She strained to identify the cadence, and her stomach twisted when she did.

“It’s him,” she hissed, glancing wide-eyed over her shoulder. Aemond’s head was close to Helaena’s with her hands resting on his shoulders. At Abby’s raised alarm, her fingers twisted in his dark green doublet and yanked him towards the partition, shoving him behind it. Abby snatched the jar with the precious cocoon inside and tucked it on the bookshelf behind the embroidered manticore Helaena had just finished. Otto Hightower’s footsteps were not alone, although the Hightower guards did not enter the Princess’ room when he swept in. Abby immediately dropped into a curtsy, a murmur of, “Lord Uncle.” Helaena bobbed slightly, twisting back and forth a bit. “Good morning, grandfather,” she said, bounding up to press a kiss on his cheek. If Otto had any weakness, it would be his unparalleled love and favoritism of his granddaughter. It was hard to tell how much Helaena enjoyed her grandfather’s attention and how much was one of her games, but whatever it was, it worked.

“Good morning, sweet girl. You look lovely today.” Otto’s voice was fond, his smile more gentle than he seemed capable of. He was an intimidating man. Abby had received nothing but kindness and vague disinterest, but he still made her nervous. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to borrow your cousin.” She felt her cheeks color as Otto’s gaze moved to her. Her mouth dried as her nerves returned to where they’d been when standing before the Queen, wondering if she was being replaced. Perhaps Larys was sending her back to Harrenhal or her sister was demanding she go to her in Casterly Rock.

Helaena smiled at her, though, with her hands folded across her stomach. “I’ll help you with your carapace later,” she reassured her. “You won’t be without armor.”

Closing the door behind them, the Hightower guards followed a few paces behind as Abby fell in step with him.

“Is everything alright?” she asked as they went left instead of right, towards the Hand’s tower. It had been years since she’d walked this path that had been as familiar to her as the gardens of the Red Keep. Her eyes glanced for the loose stone at the corner of the step, where she’d stow secret messages in the little hollow behind it. Had she left a note there? Was there perhaps a mystery one waiting for her?

“It is. And I hope you have been well yourself.” Lord Otto looked down at her gently, and she nodded. “The Queen says you pray often in the Sept?”

A prompt. A strange one, but a prompt all the same. She swallowed past her dry mouth and put a smile on her face. “Yes, I enjoy the quiet, and it helps me feel closer to my parents.” And brother, but she was careful not to mention Harwin around anyone but a handful. “It’s especially nice when her Grace joins me. It’s almost like I have my mother back.” No one could replace her mother, but the Queen had been there for as long as she could remember, and sometimes, when she tilted her head a certain way and the light caught in Queen Alicent’s auburn curls, she could pretend her mother was there once more.

“Her Grace speaks highly of you – how good you are with Princess Helaena, well behaved and polite. She said that you and the princess have made things for the poor children of the city. A very kind and admirable pursuit for you both. Your father would be very proud.”

“Thank you.” Abby wasn’t sure what else to say or what he was getting at as they began climbing the winding staircase. The familiarity of it hit her like a scent memory - one sudden and revealing of long-forgotten feelings. “I do my best to follow the Queen’s guidance and reflect well on my position within the family and her example.”

“Good. Very good.” She wasn’t sure if it was something she was supposed to reply to, so she hedged her bets and remained quiet. Her palms were sweating, and she discreetly wiped them on her skirt as she held the fabric. “I’ve noticed that you and Prince Aegon do not spend as much time together as you used to.”

Aegon? Why was she being asked about Aegon? Her stomach twisted, and she felt a prickle of heat along the back of her neck. It was true: they didn’t spend as much time together, but they hadn’t for years now, not since she spent more of her time with Helaena and… Aegon? Well, Aegon had been withdrawing slowly but surely for so long, like fraying threads at the seams. She’d be lying if she claimed to not miss him, because she did. She missed the happier boy he’d been, who did not constantly ply himself with drink and was more mercurial than a wild dragon.

Abrogail would also be lying if she claimed they saw little of one another, or spent no time at all because that was untrue as well. Until the past few moons, she’d gather lunch for the two of them when he finally rose well past noon, and he’d take her flying wherever he and Sunfyre desired to go. It had been something quiet and cherished, simply the three of them away from everything. Until Aegon had gotten in the tavern brawl all that time ago. Until Aegon started avoiding her. Until he barely acknowledged her at meals that he decided to join, even when he sat beside her. There was no way that Otto Hightower would not be aware of that, and she would not hedge around it. It wasn’t like anything untoward was happening.

“Not as much, but that is a natural casualty of leaving behind childhood. He found me earlier this week because it seemed there was a lack of honey cakes in the kitchen and I was the first to be interrogated.” There was a note of amusement in her voice, and Abby smiled in memory of his indignation and how silly he looked when she shoved honey cake into his mouth to stop his ranting. “He occasionally accompanies me in the Sept to pray. It’s incredibly kind of him to do so.”

She mounted a few more steps before realizing that Lord Hightower had paused. She turned to look at him. Morning light streaked through the narrow, delicate paned windows, casting shadow and illuminating dust in the air. He stared up at her, and with a few steps between them, she stood at his height. It was the first time she’d ever met her uncle’s eyes. Unlike her own unreadable brother, Otto’s face was not so impassive. He looked intrigued by her admission. Abby’s hands wound into her skirt so as not to fidget.

“He was not inappropriate, if that is your concern, my lord. Prince Aegon behaved with due respect.” To defend Aegon was second nature to her, and she would do so towards arguably the most powerful man in the realm if it meant to spare Aegon more shame and ire when, for once, he’d done nothing wrong. Which was true. Aegon hadn’t said a single thing. He knelt beside her, lighting candles, and simply stayed with her while she prayed for her family. He hadn’t even put a hand of comfort on her shoulder. She felt that was worth mentioning, given his current proclivities. She would not deny his vices, but she would not break confidence, and she would let no one, especially Lord Otto, think any worse of him if she could help it.

“Very good.” It took everything in her to keep the bewilderment off her face as she tried to understand what exactly he was trying to figure out. Otto resumed their progress, although now he rested a heavy hand between her shoulder blades like a father guiding a child. “So, you have no current complications with him?”

Complications? Did he think she’d lifted her skirts for Aegon? It wasn’t like she’d never thought of kissing him on those lazy afternoons when they’d lay in the grass and stare at the sky somewhere in the Kingswood with Sunfyre sunning himself like a cat. Of course she’d thought about kissing him, especially when he was at his most melancholy, with tears pooling in his eyes, making them pinker than normal. A kiss beyond the games children play, a kiss to comfort an angry prince in the firelight’s glow, his tears coursing down his cheeks with each snip of her embroidery scissors that sent locks of moonlight hair to the ground.

He’d never touched her more than a handhold, and far less than she touched him in her casual affections.

“No. No complications,” she confirmed.

They reached the landing, and Abby ran her hand over the stone dragon curled up in eternal sleep at the top of the stairs. Her fingers scratched along the smooth curve of its head the way she’d done every morning when she visited her father. She felt her uncle’s gaze on her, and she drew her hand away, hurrying to follow him into his office with her cheeks burning beneath her freckles, relieved only just by his vaguely amused expression.

The room was darker than it had been before. Gone were the stacks of books with various slips of paper sticking out haphazardly, or Theraxis lounging lazily along the cool stone floor by the door with his fluffy tail, sending motes of dust into the air. She instinctively clutched her skirt on the right to pull them away, so used to a giant paw the size of her hand grabbing at the fluttering fabric. But Theraxis was not there. The crumbling tome about the Andal invasion was absent from where it once rested on the side table. Instead, Larys stood by the fire with his back to her, as did the Queen, her lovely green dress covering her from neck to wrist with a golden pattern woven in the fabric that caught the firelight. Her face pinched in the way it did when she was uncertain and trying not to pick at her nails.

Abby noticed, of course. It usually meant that someone was about to get yelled at or she would send them away with the other ladies.

The figure in the chair slouched so far down that his silver head nearly vanished behind the back of it. At the clearing of Lord Otto’s throat, Aegon jerked up. His whole body held so much tension that it made Abby’s own hurt just by looking at him. He peered over his shoulder at them with glossy, red-rimmed eyes that give him a strange, ethereal sort of gaze, skin pale enough to prominently display the flushed pink mottling of a strike against his right cheek. He looked stuffy and uncomfortable in his dark green doublet, his fingers absently tugging at the buttons and collar. As his gaze focused, his eyes widened and darted from the uncertainty she knew was on her own face to his grandfather behind her.

The thud as Otto shut the door reverberated through her, and she and Aegon both flinched at the sound. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see the Queen flinch as well. Larys, as always, looked unphased. The heavy hand on her back pushed her towards the empty chair closer to the fire, and she had no time to bob a curtsy; courtesies stuck like toffee in her mouth.

The chairs once held the delicately embroidered pillows her mother made. She would curl up with them and read aloud from the books scattered around while her papa worked. He would-

“Queen Alicent and Lord Larys have received several letters expressing interest in you, Abrogail,” Otto said, walking behind his desk. She dug her thumbnail into the pad of her middle finger, and she saw Aegon’s booted foot twitch on the flagstone – a rocking motion from the ball of his foot to his heel before slapping it back down beneath the desk. Wood crackled in the fireplace. “Lord Farman is looking for a wife for his eldest, and Faircastle would be close to your sister.”

He plucked a scroll from the basket as he spoke, and Abby felt her stomach churn with nerves as a red heat clawed along her throat. She did not venture a look at Aegon, save for the foot he kept rocking back, the heel he repeatedly ground into the floor. He’d not gone back to slouching. He could be indolent and rude when he wanted, but not even Aegon dared to in his grandfather’s presence. Abby didn’t understand what this was about, or why Aegon was here.

“Edmund Vance, the heir to House Vance, recently lost his wife. A good man, and part of the Riverlands although a small seat. Or, if you married Jesper Celtigar, the heir of Crackclaw, you’d be able to remain in King’s Landing.”

Otto Hightower produced scroll after scroll and Abrogail felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks, confusion keeping her words locked away. How was she supposed to react to all of this? What was he trying to say? Were all these marriage proposals meant to make her feel better about herself? No, that was too odd to contemplate.

Why was Aegon here?

“Lord Grover has also written of his interest in you for his grandson. A Paramount seat would let you be close to your home at Harrenhal, and he already has an heir. He would take good care of you, and your children would have every opportunity.” Another scroll plucked from the basket. “It would bring Harrenhal into their holdings. Is that not correct, Lord Larys?”

Right. Harrenhal.

A woman’s lot is to only be worth what she could bring to the table.

Her brother was a man of few words, and he inclined his head with a shadow of a smile flickering across his face. Abby looked at the queen to find that her face was pinching harder. In the interim, Queen Alicent stepped away from the fire and moved instead to the desk with the gentle swoosh of her skirts gliding across the stone. She cleared her throat, a smile fighting its way on her face.

“All the offers were wonderful for you, my sweet girl, but none seemed right.” The Queen reached out to tuck a copper curl behind her ear, and Abby could not tell if this was supposed to be comforting to her or if the Queen sought comfort in the action for herself. Her lungs felt constricted, and it finally dawned on her.

Oh.

The sole of Aegon’s boot continued to drag across the stone in both a nervous fidget and to keep himself from slouching down even further into the chair. The only reason she could hear it was because of how focused she’d been on it, but now blood rushed into her head and Abby broke eye contact with her cousin to look down in her lap.

“What does seem right is for you and Aegon to be married, after your nameday. You’ll be eight and ten, and the pair of you will go to live at Harrenhal, and make your home there.”

Oh.

“Are you fucking serious?” Aegon’s voice was a hoarse, disused rasp from a night with endless drink. When she looked at him again, she noticed that his hair was still damp, and that beads of water from the wet ends had soaked little spots into the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t looking at her, but up at his mother, and then, incredulously, across the desk at his grandfather.

Otto’s face remained impassive following his grandson’s outburst. Abby wanted to grab Aegon and drag him out of the way of whatever was about to come out of the Hand’s mouth, as if the words would physically harm him.

The silence lengthened. Another log popped in the fireplace.

“He speaks.” The amusement in Otto’s voice caused Aegon to draw back further into his chair before he finally turned to look at her. His eyes were so red-rimmed, and his sullen face was so terribly pale that the pink-lilac of his eyes stood out ethereally, inhumanly like the drawing of a fae folk from a book she had as a child - wild and cornered. He’d bitten his pouty, chapped lips bloody.

Aegon searched her face for an answer to a question that she did not know. The only thing Abrogail could do was give him the gentle, reassuring smile she’d given him countless times before. It was what she did in this world: comfort her loved ones in any way possible, even as she needed to bury her own feelings on the matter. Feelings that, in this particular case, she couldn’t even begin untangling in the moment.

“Well, that makes us luckier than most, doesn’t it?” Abby cleared her throat and turned the smile onto the others in the room. She reached up to grasp the Queen’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze before she burst into a million pieces. Whether it was her, or the Queen, that might burst, she could not say. “We are fortunate to know one another so well and to be of an age. I thank you Lord Hightower, your Grace.” She looked at Larys, who remained silent in his observations, as always – an owl in a tree, eyes taking in everything. “Thank you, brother, for looking out for me.”

She felt Aegon’s eyes continue to pin on her. She looked back at him.

The wild and anxious expression was still on his face, and instinct compelled her, as it often did, to reach out her hand to take his - but he surprised her by beating her to it. His skin felt like fire engulfing her frigid hand and his fingers tangled with hers with easy familiarity. Before she could register what was happening, Aegon’s chair was already scraping across the floor and he pulled her from her chair with the momentum of jumping from his own. There was no pause in his movement as he dragged her to the door.

“How very fortunate we are.” A laugh bubbled from Aegon’s chest. It was a joyless sound when he laughed in the presence of his mother and grandsire. It was edged with the familiar mania; Aegon laughed when he was afraid, when he was anxious, when he was trying not to scream as his world was coming apart, or the laughter and joy on the back of Sunfyre. He tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling before throwing a look over his shoulder at the three across the room. “How very lucky we are.”

Aegon’s hand was clammy around hers, his grip bordering on painful. He yanked the door open with a protesting whine of the latch. Abby heard the Queen calling after him, but Aegon’s strides were purposeful as they ate up the ground to get away. Only the grip of their hands kept her from being left behind in the claustrophobic room where their future was being decided for them.

It might have been the second bravest thing she’d ever witnessed from him.

[Chapter Two]

[mamaagirlbehindyouu]

Tara Carpenter x GN! Reader Headcanons

Summary: Just a couple of HCs I have for Tara in general & Tara x Reader as a pairing.

AN: This is my first time writing anything non-academic or professional and also my first time posting on Tumblr so please bare with me as I attempt to better my writing skills & learn the Tumblr interface 😭

- Your first date with Tara was at a local arcade. She was absolutely terrible at Dance Dance Revolution. The two of you saw a claw machine with a fuzzy Snoopy keychain inside and you pointed out how cute it was. After this, Tara insisted she could win it for you despite your insistence that the machine was rigged. She won it eventually (after 12 tries).

- Tara loves The Marías and they’re always in her song rotation whenever you let her have the aux. For her first birthday that you guys are together for you gift her tickets to a Marias concert and you guys go together. They play ‘No One Noticed’ and she cries.

- She sends you Ig reels of kittens together and says “literally us” and she thinks it’s the funniest shit ever. Like she’ll be in bed scrolling and sends it to you and she just starts giggling to herself because she thinks it’s that funny.

- Tara’s wisdom teeth come in during the time you guys are friends but aren’t together yet and she asks you to come with her to get them removed. The whole time she keeps talking about how pretty you are (and accidentally insults the dentist).

- She loves Dr Pepper. That’s it, that’s the headcanon. Fight me about it.

- Tara makes you play Dress to Impress with her. She doesn’t care if you like the game or not or if you participate in the rounds; She just wants you to rate her five stars so she can make it in the top 3.

- Lovesss physical touch even if it’s just small things like interlocking a single finger while you guys are sitting together and doing your own things. She also really likes giving you gifts though; Tara could spend hours upon hours walking around Target or the mall or looking on Amazon for random little gifts to give you.

- Terrible at cooking but great at baking. Tara could bake almost anything you could think of, but her favorite thing to make is chocolate chip cookies. On your birthday she bakes you a cake from scratch and decorates it <3

[linalina-universe]

I've been praying on this daily. Transgender Christian converts.

Edit: While I do talk about Orthodoxy in this post. I am part of the Episcopal church. I posted this while I was on a journey of faith and It's had it's ups and downs. Please find the church you feel most comfortable in. I've been asking some of the saints, Holy Theotokos, and Jesus our Lord. As well as talking to my Guardian angel as I can. To help Bring my transgender eunuch siblings around the world to Faith in Jesus. Seeing all of the LGBT Christian Blogs recently on Tumblr is making me so Glad. God is Good. God Cares about us. Even if there are teachers in the church who condemn us for being different. Seek Reconciliation, Repentance. Learn to Forgive one another. Learn to Love one another. The path towards Jesus isn't easy. Much learning and Discernment it's a LONG ROAD. But keep learning about Jesus. Don't settle for less, but find a place to plant your roots. If you want to really get into the thick of it learn about Orthodoxy. But it takes time for us to get where we need to be. I do believe God listens to all of His Children though. The Holy spirit is everywhere. I would never judge whether or not a person is damned or saved due to what church they go to. That's up to Jesus, he is the judge. But come as you are. Never let a Church teacher hold Jesus over you do not conform to the whims of man as we are not of this world. Only Conform to the Whims of Jesus. Learn to be humble in life, Obedient to Jesus. Learn about humility. Realize no one person on this earth is any better than another. True humility is a virtue. It takes time to cultivate. We are imperfect. Learn LGBT History, ancient history, learn about eunuchs and Queer Saints. qspirit.net, But realize that many of these things are unkown without a time machine. Be sound in wisdom of our ancestors. Do not be defensive all the time though. Learn when to talk, listen to the silence. Do not let hate, and the machinations of this world such as political ideologies, capitalism control your life. We need money to work in this world. But money and possessions are temporary while Jesus and God are eternal. Pray for the Rich kings and politicians who persecute us pray that they seek Jesus. "It is better to Light a candle than to Curse the Darkness." Do not let the Darkness of media news overtake you. Pray for people around the world suffering. Count your blessings. Realize just how good you might have it. I recommend you learn about the Orthodox Saints of Alaska if you want to learn about actual anti-colonialist Christians. The Saints are wonderful examples of ideal Christian lives. I recommend Trisagion Films on youtube to learn about the saints. While I affirm LGBT relationships and see true Joy in them. I know unless Heaven and Earth are moved. The Orthodox/Romans will never Affirm them. I recommend merely Getting Married under the Law of the Land and then showing up at church. Have a celebration an an episcopal church I love the episcopal angelicans it's a safe respite for us queer Christians. I wish that LGBT marriages had been affirmed decades ago, then maybe some of the self destructive generational trauma we see in the queer community wouldn't exist. But we are a persecuted class and either way people dislike us. I hope someday the Orthodox have church mothers. We need women for the women and girls in the church to confide in. We need equal representation. I understand if not everyone agrees with me. But I love Jesus. I hope that being his servant like the court eunuchs of ancient times can be well pleasing to Him. Eunuchs were seen as angelic. His divine eros fulfills my heart in some ways as someone by tradition of ancient orthodoxy should technically be celibate. Live as yourself and know God loves you. Take your medicine and heal. He will never Give up on you. Art By Devlev on Deviantart. Please support them. They Draw Beautiful Queer art.

[honey-tragedy]

homestuck side of tumblr, if your still alive, please give me your wisdom

how do we feel about homestuck cosplays in the year our lord 2024? i have come into possession of a official terezi scalemate cloak and i think its infected my brain

[rayatii]

What War Is

(A sort of poem by me.)

What is war?

To me, war is

The streets of my city lined up with makeshift tents

The run-down school next to my place now hosting refugees

Every public school now closed because they are hosting refugees

Seeing places that were once so familiar to me, get destroyed in a wink

Passing apartments destroyed by bombings, and

Seeing workers already working on rebuilding them

The instructions and maps for bomb shelters on the website of my university

My professors constantly reminding us that we are going through uncertain times (but please take your responsibilities seriously)

The countless online lectures on stress management and living through times like these

The hybrid class arrangements where only a maximum of four students show up to class in-person, because many are out of the city or even out of the country

The extra burden of balancing stress from this situation and class requirements we fell behind on due to schools and universities closing for a while at the start

Learning the difference between the sound of a sonic boom and a bomb

Briefly mistaking every loud noise I hear for a bomb sound

Hearing more sirens outside than usual, and

Wondering more than usual where these sirens are headed to

Anticipating every day the familiar buzz of a reconnaissance drone over my city (I keep trying to troll it)

Losing sleep from being startled awake at night by distant bombings

The most depressing kind of packing for a trip ever

Living half a live in one place and half a life in another

Missing things I once took for granted

Texting and calling loved ones living in a certain area after a bombing, to see if they are still alive

My family always leaving the TV on for news and updates while I am catching up on my assignments

Me and others telling each other jokes about the politicians and military forces perpetrating the destruction

Feeling a certain sense of extra kinship with my fellow countrypeople

Discovering new points of view, on- and offline, new allies and new enemies, surprising or not

People online, living thousands of kilometers away, who see us as collateral damage or think we somehow deserve this suffering because of our political situation

Finding out how very little some people know about our lives here

Sometimes resenting people overseas for living their best life

Reminding myself not to let the situation corrupt my mind and turn me into an asshole

Learning more and gaining wisdom (but at what cost)

"Relatable" posts on Tumblr taking a whole new meaning

Understanding famous stories of war, real or fantasy, the true effects of war, more than ever

My friends and loved ones overseas asking me near-daily if I am okay, and

Me replying every time that yes, I am okay, I am safe

Being grateful that I am alive and well, but still not being quite happy

The awareness of the unreality of the situation

Living through historical times, and resenting it

Agreeing with others that we are experiencing a Lite™ version of survivor's guilt

My weekly therapy sessions now becoming more necessary than ever

Generational trauma becoming not-so-generational-anymore

Oscillating between complete desperation, and determination to not give my enemies the satisfaction of my submission to fear

The tiredness and stress I carry, often without knowing, and

Being aware that everyone around me carries that same tiredness and stress, often without knowing

Reflecting on hypothetical scenarios

Reflecting on where to go

Reflecting on whether the next bombs will drop on me or on people I know

Reflecting on what I might leave behind

Reflecting on the possibility of suddenly losing everything I hold dear

Reflecting on the possibility of suddenly losing everything

Reflecting on the very possible eventuality of death

Reflecting on my life itself.

But even so, I see that I am privileged, because

I still have access to food and clean water (some don't.)

I still have a roof over my head (some don't.)

I still have access to my education (some don't.)

I still have enough money to afford those basic needs (some don't.)

I still have all of my brain, both my eyes, ears, my nose, both my arms, legs, and all my fingers (some don't.)

I still have nearly all the trinkets and indulgences, useful or trivial, that are dear to my heart (some don't.)

I still have some time to focus on leisure (some don't.)

I haven't developed any serious mental issues from all this (yet) (some did.)

I live in a relatively safe area (some don't)

Me and my family have at least one option for areas to retreat to (some don't.)

My loved ones are all still alive

I am still alive.

(some are not.)

[bevsi]

tumblr please give me your wisdom. what are romantic things to do in the Tokyo area?

[johnica-weeks]

Johnica Week 2024

When is the event? 📆

This year's Johnica Week will start on Thursday 18th January and end on Sunday 21st January! For the first time the event will START on their wedding anniversary and continue throughout the weekend 🥰 But as always, don't worry if you're late! You can keep sending your contributions after the last day, these are simply indicative days to gather all together 💕

Where? 🔎

Here on Tumblr, on AO3 and also on Instagram for visual artists!

💚 Use the tag #JohnicaWeek2024 in your entries here and on Instagram!

📚 > Here is the AO3 COLLECTION where to post your fics! <

💚 Tag @eileen-crys and/or @johnica-weeks in your works so I can read, see and share them!

📚 At the end of the event I’ll make a Tumblr masterlist with all the works!

2020 Masterlist | 2021 Masterlist | 2022 Masterlist | 2023 Masterlist

The Theme 🎁

The 49th Wedding Anniversary comes soon before the huge milestone of the 50 years together, and it's usually represented by various symbols that I added to the prompts: Zircon, Orchids, the color Purple, and luxurious gifts. The main theme of this year's event is GIFTS, the act of giving the partner something material or abstract as an act of selflessness, that can have various meanings and various reactions.

Like all the prompts, it’s up to you to follow the theme or not, consider it just as a general theme that you could build your entries around. I chose some prompts that might fit this theme, that are about gifts as physical objects or as ideas for situations or alternative worldbuildings.

How? 🖼

You're encouraged to join with your preferred creative media or challenge yourself with something new! Fanfictions, drawings, comics, poetry, collages and photo edits, moodboards, anything you like! More in the RULES below.

Like all Ship Weeks, this is a fandom event to share love and creativity related to a particular couple, so be sure to engage with the entries and support all the artists and writers that chose to join! Reblog, leave likes/kudos and comment on the artworks to keep the fandom alive! 💜💖💕💜💖💕

Day 1 • 18 January (Anniversary!)

Flowers: Orchids are symbols of love, beauty, refinement, fertility, strength and resilience, and mature charm.

Surprise gift!

Handmade by the other

Young, poor and happy together

"I've got a loving wife and a couple of kids at home, that'll do me!"

Day 2 • 19 January

The color: Purple can evoke spirituality, mystery, royalty, imagination, compassion, fantasy, wisdom, creativity and sensitivity.

A kinky gift 😏

Concert tickets

Radio interview

“When you love something, you protect it with your entire life. Right now, my guts tell me to do the same.”

Day 3 • 20 January

Gemstone: Zircon zircon is a talisman of travelers. They count on it to lead to a shelter and show the right way. Plus, it is able to protect from injuries. Women used the gem to ease childbirth, drive away evil spirits, enhance health, get wisdom, and attract good luck.

Rejecting a gift

Torn between options

Dreaming and daydreaming

"You remembered something I’d mentioned a million years ago!"

Day 4 • 21 January

Celebration: Luxury the 49th wedding anniversary is the step right before the big 50, also known as the Golden wedding. All the symbols represent the wealth of experience a couple has after being married for nearly five decades. Two people who are willing to work together and compromise and do all the things that make a marriage successful deserve to celebrate with a bit of Luxury.

Matching pyjamas

Spa experience / Pampering one another

Knowing each other like an open book

"Oh my, this must have been expensive!" "Nothing is expensive enough for you, my love."

What can you do? ✒

You can join with fanfics, edits and moodboards, drawings of all kinds and if you want to sing or play an instrument please feel free to!

The requirements are:

John and Veronica Deacon as the main pairing;

Your love and creativity! 🥰

You can write/draw:

Fics with and without accurate settings and timelines;

Alternative Universes (AU) of any kind and genre, mixed or not with the prompts (ex. Fem!John AU + coffee shop, A/B/O AU + Superpowers);

“What if"s;

Genderswap/genderbending of any kind;

Other Queen members, friends, pairings, family, poly ships (that have to involve both John and Veronica!), OCs, etc…

Fluff, angst, crack, hurt/comfort, action, mystery, sexy times… anything you fancy!

🔥 NSFW is allowed with PROPER TAGS! IMPORTANT note: please interact with NSFW only if you’re +18! 🔞

… and more! If you’re unsure feel free to ask!

We’re here to celebrate John and Veronica Deacon, not to create drama or fights nor to disrespect their privacy. So please be considered about your entries and comments and always try to be respectful to John, to Veronica, to their family and friends, to the people who ship them or ship other couples and to your audience.

HOW to post? 🤔

You can post your entries here on Tumblr, on AO3 and on Instagram, using the hashtag #JohnicaWeek2024 and tagging me.

If you prefer, you can post anonymously on AO3, HERE is an easy guide on how to do it!

If you’re on Tumblr and want to post a fic anonymously please send me a DM and I’ll post it on @johnica-weeks on your behalf, crediting it as Anonymous author! I will also post fics from Anon authors posted on AO3 here on tumblr on Anon's behalf.

🔥 TAG your work APPROPRIATELY! This includes all potential triggers and smut. On Tumblr you can include the appropriate warnings at the top of the fic followed by a "keep reading” cut (you can add it in desktop version AND on mobile by writing :readmore: in a new line!) Also be sure to tag the rating of your fic, the genre and the themes of your story, enough to help the readers!

✨ If you’re still unsure, HERE’s a useful guide on how to tag your works!

As a reader... 📖

If you’re a fan of John, of Johnica or simply like to read fanfictions, positive interactions are always much welcomed! Support the authors by leaving likes, a comment (even a little one!) and sharing their work. On AO3 you don’t need an account to leave Kudos and Comments! (Unless the author has willingly prevented guests to comment). To leave a comment on AO3 you simply have to choose a temporary mail and set your email to get a notification for an eventual reply.

If a work is not tagged appropriately, you can reach out to me via DM and I’ll warn the author. If anything makes you uncomfortable, simply close the work! Do not engage by leaving nasty comments or messaging the author!

🔥 IMPORTANT!!! 🔥

During the event, if any of you/your entries gets hateful comments or messages towards you, your entries, the Johnica ship, the event or other creators, please DELETE the hateful comment/message right away with no interactions and let me know! This is no place for haters, just for creativity and love. If you see a hateful comment on other works do not engage, instead leave a positive comment to the same work and support the author! 💜

Realistic or not, remember that fanfictions are, by definition, FICTIONAL and not meant to be a documentary! There are lots of things we don’t know about John and Veronica’s private lives and don’t want to go in too deeply, gossip or speculate about them, so feel free to fly with your fantasy and let your creativity flow! 😊💖 Most of all… have fun, respect each other and support each other’s works!

Dividers and graphics by @firefly-graphics and @johnica-weeks. As always for any info and question feel free to send an ask or a DM!

[dtmsrpfcringe]

Okay so the “Michael” was truly bizarre, amr?

Also. Please don’t lump me in with queer anon here because I currently rent real estate on planet earth and do not make it my life’s mission to destroy GT or AL or like… violently RPF ship D/M. Just not a thing I do to try to psychoanalyze these strangers or weave a narrative with very flimsy and very very cherry picked strings.

Disclaimer done.

But I DO kind of feel like the “silly little jabs is our love language and it’s funny and silly and cute and all in good fun” bit is wearing on me. It was all fine. All of it. Until this sandals video 😂😭 like, Georgia, I do not hate you or think you’re evil or your marriage is a sham. However. Let’s just say I would not be UNHAPPY to see Georgia UNCOMMIT to this particular bit of videos of her taking the piss out of David.

I don’t even follow them anywhere bc tumblr is my only social media so I’m not hunting them down or anything it’s just, you know, fandom tumblr dash content.

I think maybe it’s a matter of personal preference rather than me making any kind of broad statement about their relationship here. But it was the first time I ever got actually “annoyed” vibes from him in one of her vids. Which happens with couples obviously whatever. It just felt not good to watch that one.

And maybe because for the first time it DID send me psychoanalyzing?!! like… oh man. Which again I guess is a me problem.

Here’s hoping that it was just a normal couple having a grumbly moment video bc the rest of the time they seem fine and it isn’t even my business anyway. Except for the fact that he … legit seemed annoyed in this one and I just wish she hadn’t posted it because I can’t unsee that 😬

Please give me your wisdom in this momentary crisis of faith.

honestly I think that he wasn't actually annoyed. If he was he wouldn't have posed for a photo of his shoes and socks, or grinned as he walked in front of her. I just see it as a funny little video and I think that's all anyone should really get out of a <10 second video of a couple who's been together for 16 years and have a collective of five children. Whatever they do clearly works for them and it's very obvious that they both have a humorous relationship. I think another thing to remember here is that Georgia is ND and a lot of ND humor can come off a little coarse (I would know🐀😭)

Also, they've been together for a very long time and no relationship is ever perfect and it is very important to remember this! Hope this helps anon.

Also...yeah the "Michael" was so weird

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: What Does Libra Season Have in Store For You? ☁💗🌆

Happy Autumn folks and welcome back! I'm stoked. I enjoyed my first day of Autumn with some good ol cider. This is looking to be a very busy fall season!

NEWS! Starting tomorrow I will be heading out on a vacation trip for a little over a week where I'll be away from Tumblr for the majority of the time, so things will be pretty quiet on this blog until mid-October. But stick around because when I come back, I'll be bringing some Tarot games with me, sprucing up my page, and more! 🍎

(I also got a new desk which is going to make card spread layouts so much easier! kazoo)

So for now, I thought I would tune into the vibes of the upcoming sun in Libra transit and catch a brief glimpse into what it has prepared for you all this crispy cool season.

(Content warning: there is an image containing blood on one of the cards. It's from the Shadowscape Tarot deck. I will find a way to modify this card in the future.)

Please select one of the three sunset skies below. I will dub them Peach (1), Fuchsia (2), and Violet (3).

Pile 1: Peach Sky

Ace of Pentacles, Page of Cups, King of Pentacles, Six of Cups, Ten of Swords; Compassion, 21. Venus, 6. Sun - Light, Sadness

Hi pile 1! Your Libra season will be filled with a sense of grace. I feel like you've been going through some struggles lately and you're wondering if help is available. Libra season may be a good time for you to reach out to loved ones and anybody who can help you in your current struggle. It could be related to money. You're going to be near those who understand your troubles and may have advice which can re center you. With the open minded Page of Cups, you may receive a nugget of wisdom which can propel you to create something new.

You'll be able to reconnect more with your inner child during this next month. In the midst of struggling, we can often forget or neglect our child side which needs to feel safe in order to come out of hiding. You'll have chances to let small joys assist you in healing. Try watching that movie you've been thinking about, you might end up really enjoying it. These moments can help give you important insights into helping you heal something that's kept you down in the dumps.

You may likely have episodes throughout the month where your energy and drive take a dip and you'll have to sit some stuff out to process your thoughts for a while. I'm feeling a lot of this gloomy Ten of Swords energy is from various past issues. Nothing in your deck suggests rushing through this, if anything the King of Pentacles says "success isn't an overnight thing". Take the time you need to work through old sticky feelings that stop you from moving forward.

A lot of self care will be required for this solar season, pile 1. Give yourself the occasional indulgence, but look closely over your finances this month. Don't use indulgence as a distraction from getting important work done. Libra is a season of balance, and this pile is about the balance between prudence and play. Make time to regenerate yourself with fun, then tend to needed duties. Do what you can and stay open minded to receiving outside help from guides or people.

Pile 2: Fuchsia Sky

XVII Star, King of Cups, X Wheel of Fortune, Three of Swords, Six of Wands; Listening, 29. Ceres, 3. East - Beginnings, Frustration

Hey pile 2, it seems like for the first time in a while things may finally be looking up. During this time, you could meet someone who will be like a counselor figure to you (or an actual counselor). You will have someone who will be there to understand you. I get the impression that you recently went through some form of upheaval and lack the sensation of solid ground. Things are likely still in a state of flux during Libra season, but since the King of Cups has no trouble sailing over choppy waters, you can lean on that wisdom and spiritual strength to get through.

A lot could be changing in your life, or even that you're in the liminal phase of being from one place to another. It's like you're holding a train ticket that lets you visit any city you want. You're beginning to scratch the surface of what possibilities are out there for you. Decisions are hardly in the books right now. The key is to tend to what opportunities you would love more than others and allow the one you want to grow. Ceres wants you to be patient and deliberate with your moves.

Situations may come up where you're made to reckon with your old memories that have caused pain. I'm putting a content warning for blood on this pile and to be honest, even if blood doesn't trigger you there may be times in this month where something may trigger old wounds when least expected. On the flipside, this month also shows that you are undergoing a lot of change as to how you deal with these situations. Your reactions to old stimuli may change and you may find yourself being cool where you were once upset.

Although hope is forecast in your reading, you may not be in the right place to ring any victory bells. Achievement of something major is not likely to happen this month, for you pile 2 this will be a developmental month that will allow you to gently transition into the next phase of your life. Be sure to check in with yourself every now and then to congratulate yourself for the little things, even--no, especially when progress appears slow or all over the place. The time will come where you will feel more focused and determined to tackle something big, but for now appreciate the small victories and rejoice in silver linings of any kind.

Pile 3: Violet Sky

Page of Swords, Five of Cups, Eight of Wands, Ace of Wands, Five of Wands; Mystery, 6. Virgo, 22. Air - Motion, Love

Hello pile 3, This Libra season will likely involve education for you of some kind. You may be a student in school now or you're out of school but looking for something new to try. You could also be looking into new ideas or plans for your next year. I think this pile is really into the autumn season, like you guys are ready to let it go and slide into the next year. This season has you in a contemplative space where you get to weigh options. Though you may find some time to work things out, I think the month will move faster for you than you think. (If you're applying for scholarships or the like, check your emails vigilantly.)

You will definitely be blessed with a feeling of catharsis, as Five of Cups can talk about pure emotional release. Something has likely been an issue either in the front or back of your mind, some kind of long term issue involving relationships and making goals work. Your mind has spent enough time whirling around trying to solve the problem with pure logic. The only way to let go of the scattering thoughts is to allow the emotions locked in to completely flow out. Then the logic will work more effectively, like taking a jammed piece of paper out of a printer.

Some of you could have recently broken up with someone and you're figuring out how to move on with your life. Or there was a recent argument with a loved one. Something like that which creates a need to reevaluate one's path. Since one path didn't work out, what other options could be on the table? You're being given the chance to dive into anything without anticipating results good or bad. Allow yourself to explore and find something that either creates joy or helps you to release old pain (like an artsy workshop).

This month could open up a lot of chances for you to organize and set easier priorities for your life, for this year and the next. The catharsis will finally allow everything to move, both your actions and manifestations. You'll be amazed by how quickly and smoothly the pace will pick up after relationship issues are placed on the backburner (unless there's an urgent issue involved). Note that catharsis doesn't always involve crying it out; sometimes it can be done through a good laugh or even a great workout. You could find emotional release through whatever it is you'd like to learn. For some of you, this is your sign: It's worth looking into.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

How do I love thee, let me count the weeks... Final Round-Up

Fellow Travelers Valentine's Celebration: Masterpost

✨ Show the authors some love with kudos and a quick comment on the fics after reading, and be sure to reblog this post, so others can enjoy these fics too!

💠 Authors: if your tumblr (or other socials) isn’t linked, and you'd like it to be, let me know and I'll be happy to add it. Or, if you are linked, and you'd rather not be, please contact me to remove it.

Works below can be found in this Ao3 Collection 💗

❤️ very pretty weeds by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific [T, 2K] Hawk has really put Tim through the emotional wringer this weekend, and he seems far too nice to deserve any of it. Rafael tries his best to give his new friend a warm send-off and a few words of wisdom.

Or, the walk to the ferry from Rafael's POV.

🧡 Under Stars Chilled By The Winter by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G,1K] Hawk has been away in Rome for a week. He comes home to Tim.

Part 7 of Bravery | Part 5 of FT Valentine's Month

��� you're the home beneath the ruin by @startagainbuttercup | startagainbuttercup [T, 1K] Episode 2, Inside Hawk's head.

He thinks about Tim, about the joy he felt when he woke up next to him just ten minutes ago, and another memory comes to him, a memory of him smiling so adorably Hawk couldn't stop peppering him with kisses until Tim laughed, ticklish, and wrapped his arms around him tightly, preventing him from moving, not that Hawk wanted to move. He fell asleep in Skippy's arms, feeling safe and content.

Part 3 of FT Valentine's Month: how do I love thee, let me count the weeks…

💚 in the still of the night by @thewindyoubargainedfor | thewindyoubargainedfor [E, 2K] Tim stayed up, waiting for Hawk to call. Hawk made it worth his while.

💙 gold-skinned, eager baby by @lispenard-street | lispenardstreet [E, 10K] Tim sets out for Fire Island with a single goal: to dig Hawk out of his pit of self-destruction.

As it turns out, Hawk is after something else entirely.

A 1979 fix-it… of sorts.

💜 In your eyes, this is a place worth remembering. by @in-our-special-place |  Cupping_Cakes [M, 630] Hawk stumbled into the room, his eyes blurry and his steps unsteady, but his gaze was fixed on Tim, as if he were the only thing that mattered. A wave of emotions washed over Tim, flickering between anger, hurt, and a longing desire to hold Hawk close one more time.

💗 Where figures from the past stand tall And mocking voices ring above. by @in-our-special-place | Cupping_Cakes [M, 472] They held each other's gaze, their love speaking volumes more than any words ever could.

🤎 To Wrap Your Love Around Me by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific [T, 5K] Waking up in Tim’s apartment, Hawk discovers Skippy's old robe, the same one from years ago, and the memories all come flooding back.

Tim doesn’t have much time left, will Hawk be brave enough to stay?

🖤 Beguiled Again by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 1K] Tim comes home late, finding Hawk asleep and wearing his shirt.

Part 6 of Bravery | Part 3 of FT Valentine's Month

💝 I'll be there beside you, to dry your weeping eyes. by @in-our-special-place | Cupping_Cakes [M, 869] Frankie, the man he had loved and grown with through time. The man who had been by his side through all of life's ups and downs. The man who had never given up on him, no matter how lost or broken he felt.

❤️ I'll Forever Love You by Anonymous [G, 602] Marcus slow dances with his love.

🧡 The Night Before The Road Trip by @vespersong | vespersong [T, 2K] So...we all know Hawk planned the trip to Rehoboth beach. Which means he probably packed a bag. But what about Tim? Was he stuck in that same shirt all weekend? Well, let's just say Hawk was prepared.

💛 please tell me now by @thewindyoubargainedfor | thewindyoubargainedfor [G, 1K] When Marcus arrives in San Francisco, he knows the first thing he needs to do.

💚 We'll find the perfect place to go where we can run and hide. by @in-our-special-place | Cupping_Cakes [M, 706] 'I never told you this, but that was the best day of my life. I never felt so free and happy, like I could do anything with you by my side.'

💙 you should be in my space (you should be in my life) by @startagainbuttercup | startagainbuttercup [E, 3K] What if Tim let Hawk touch him during their mutual masturbation session?

Part 2 of FT Valentine's Month: how do I love thee, let me count the weeks...

💜 All Tied Up With Nowhere To Go by @jesterlesbian | captainquint [E, 2K] “Are they too tight?” Hawk asked, tugging on Tim’s wrists.

Tim’s wrists were, at that moment, bound to the headboard of Hawkins Fuller’s bed by some carefully knotted neckties. Tim was struck by the thought of Hawk wearing one of these ties to work on a later day, becoming distracted in his office thinking of what they had done with them on this night. His mouth twitched up at the corner.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Hawk placed a hand under his chin and tilted Tim’s face towards Hawk’s own. “This is important, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tim rolled his wrists and wiggled his fingers to show they were fine. “I’m not made of glass, Hawk, you don’t have to treat me like I’ll break.”

Or, Hawk teases a tied-up Tim

Part 2 of FT Valentine's Day 2024

🖤 No Expectations by @justviwriting | justviwriting [M, 3K] When Hawk wants to leave Tim in 1957, his plans are disrupted when Tim wakes up before he could walk out the door.

Part 5 of My Fellow Travelers Fanfics

💘 the gold of the dusk and the dawn by @redmyeyes | redmyeyes [M, 3K] Valentine’s Day, 1954

Part 4 of Fellow Travelers

🤎 Me too by @alorchik | alorchik [T, 1K] Hawk feels he can afford it now, here, with Tim.

❤️ Where No One Else Can See  by@bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 2K] Marcus once said Hawk was a damn good liar. And the first step in being the best damned liar that ever set foot in Washington was the necessity of being able to lie to yourself.

Hawk had been lying to himself for so long - about so many things - even he didn't think he would know his own truth if it was laid bare before him.

Until soft brown eyes and a kiss that tasted like milk and eternity.

Until Skippy.

Or, How Tim's touch made Hawk realise a certain fact.

Part 2 of FT Valentine's Month

🧡 The World is Not Kind to Good People♦️ by @lovebunnie | space_kid [T, 727] Tim felt Hawk’s eyes on him whenever they were in the same room, not unlike the unrelenting gaze of God; all powerful, all knowing, something Tim ached for.

💛 Stars fading but I linger on, dear  by @cinnamoncountess | CinnamonCountess [E, 5K] Tulips, roses, lavenders, daisies and orchids —

Tim closes his eyes for fleeting seconds as he passes the bayside and takes in the wide-ranging scent wafting over from the flower sales on each side of the road, drawing into his nostrils where it mixes with the salty sea odor from afar. It is that day of the year again that always squeezes on his heart like a fallen wall of bricks, burying him underneath.

💚 Everywhere I look, you're all I see.  by @in-our-special-place | Cupping_Cakes [M, 950] In that moment, all the pain, the hurt, and the years of separation melted away. It was just the two of them, lost in their own little world. And for Tim, it was all he ever wanted.

💙 Anywhere You Wander, Anywhere You Go  by Anonymous [G, 1K] As he was now, the man he was now - Tim could not deny the longing in his heart. The need to close the distance between them again, to take his heart back into his arms.

Or, another cabin husbands dancing together fic.

💜 cheek to cheek  by vexinganthony💠 [T, 2K] An extremely fluffy one shot about Tim singing at hawk’s behest.

Part 1 of valentine’s month prompts

💗 Unforgettable  by @justviwriting | justviwriting [T, 1K] Hawk and Tim dance together for the first time.

Part 4 of My Fellow Travelers Fanfics

❤️ One Desire  by @lovebunnie | space_kid [T, 1K] Tim instinctively stepped towards Hawk before stopping, "Hawk, I don’t-"

"You said music doesn’t sound the same," Hawk cut in. "I figured… it doesn’t have to sound the same. Let’s make it sound better."

Part 1 of Fellow Travelers Valentine’s Day 202

🧡 Hold Me In Your Arms  by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 1K] Tim entices Hawk to dance with him, and then sing for him.

Part 3 of Bravery | Part 1 of FT Valentine's Month

💛 You're the one I want to go through time with. by @in-our-special-place | Cupping_Cakes [E, 773] 'Don't you need me, Skippy?' Hawk said softly.

'I have you,' Tim replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

💚 with your kiss my life begins  by @startagainbuttercup | startagainbuttercup [G, 785] 4 times Tim and Hawk dance.

Part 1 of FT Valentine's Month: how do I love thee, let me count the weeks…

💙 The Way We Danced Till Three by @jesterlesbian | captainquint [M, 2K] “There we go,” Hawk said, as he found the jazz station he often liked to tune into. Billie Holiday crooned through the static, singing They Can’t Take That Away From Me. Hawk tilted the bottle toward Tim in offering, who took it and tossed back a large swig before coughing and spluttering on the sharp taste of the alcohol.

“I don’t know how you do that,” Tim said, shuddering and sticking out his tongue.

Hawk laughed and took the bottle back, placing it on the desk near the radio. “Lots of practice.”

“Dance with me, Skippy?”

Or, Valentine's Day, 1954

Part 1 of FT Valentine's Day 2024

Thanks to all the creators for your wonderful efforts, and to the readers for taking the time to enjoy and share these fics!

Thank you to @fellow-travelers-events for hosting this event. 

Ao3 Collection 💗

[loopylululandofthefree]

I'm so bored all THE TIMEEE

I can't even do digtal art. I've been using my brothers laptop and I gotta delete progress for space 😭

Imma need to get a second hand/refurbished tablet or laptop or something like how am I gunna job hunt and do school in this economy I'm just a wee lass and summer break coming to an end tumblr please give me your wisdom

I need a life plan 😭

[thefallennightmare]

Hey there!

I just wanted to say I'm amazed at how you handle the anon hate with class and grace. It blows my mind at how hateful people can be, especially when they can hide behind being on anon (I see the irony in me being on anon now too lol)

Sometimes as an elder millennial, I feel too old for this fandom and too old for tumblr lol. But out of all the fandoms I've been a part of during the years across various social media apps, this little community right here has been the nicest and most welcoming. I've been here less than a year and haven't talked much to anyone, but the few interactions I've had have been very polite and respectful and sometimes very funny.

I've seen the hate you and other blogs/writers have posted about and it disgusts me. I haven't gotten involved in any of the discourse because I try to keep my vibes positive and friendly. But now I just wanna say something to you and your fellow writers - please don't stop writing or give in to the hate and negativity. Yes, their words hurt and are discouraging but for every "hater" you have, you have many more people who love and support you and your work, please choose to focus on that. I can't speak for everyone but I choose to read your stories as a way to escape from the real world, so I thank you for sharing your talent and creativity with all of us.

And if any haters are lurking, I politely ask that you please find something better to do with your time. Fic writers and fic readers are literally hurting no one, so direct your vitriol elsewhere. Don't shame others for reading and writing fics, when other people in this fandom and other fandoms have done worse things to celebrities. I hope that whatever is bothering you and causing you to be so hateful is resolved and you can find peace and positivity in your life. Treat people with kindness.

Sorry this got so long but I felt like I needed to speak up and offer my elder millennial wisdom lol 😅

🫶🏻

WELP HERE I AM CRYING!

Thank you so fucking much for this long and lovely message. It was something I needed after these last couple of days! I also stay on the good side of the fandom because there are SO many wonderful and lovely people here. I've met so many amazing people, and I am so thankful to call them my friends. I do my best to ignore all the anon hate messages I get but sometimes, I feel the need to defend myself and my blog(which seems to be a lot more recently).

I will never turn off my anon option because a lot of my followers love the option to remain on anon because it's what they're comfortable with. I refuse to let some miserable person who chooses to throw hate on anon ruin it for others.

I am choosing to always focus on every single one of you who always loves and supports me rather than the few who have nothing better to do than to spew unnecessary hate.

And one thing I ALWAYS say is "kill em with kindness."

Also, my inbox is always open! Feel free to pop in anytime and we can chat about whatever! My blog is a safe space for everyone. 🪽🖤