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twstbookclub · 1 month

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Slowly, Surely, Sadly

Summary: Who would've thought one smile could make you like someone? Of all people, you never expected to fall for Riddle—not after his overblot. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Slow Burn, Minor ADeuce Shenanigans again, Unrequited (maybe not, who knows?) Feelings, Spoilers for Book 1 if yall haven't finished it Word Count: 3, 304 This is my first time writing full-on angst. I already had this plot in mind last April, but this was my only chance to finally write it all down. I hope I did my job, and I'm sorry also not sorry for the feels. I was running on 5 hours of sleep and a hopeless romantic playlist when I wrote this. I hope yall enjoy, though 💕

Whenever you looked at Riddle, the memory of his swollen cheek and tear-brimmed eyes overlapped with his stern expression. Even with the constant lectures and helicopter parenting becoming less frequent, you could never forget his ruthless reign over Heartslabyul. His first impression was that of a tyrannical and merciless ruler, and you’d never forget that.

Yet, you could never forget how he looked like a lost child in a garden of roses when Ace punched him that day.

“Would you like to sample one of our teatime treats, Prefect?”

Riddle’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts. Your eyes darted from your teacup to the housewarden. An expectant yet patient smile curled his lips, which was a stark contrast to his natural frown. Your eyes lingered on the smile on his cherubic face.

“Sure,” you answered, somewhat in a daze. You took a sip of your tea, before your nose scrunched a little. Before Riddle noticed your grimace, you put the teacup down and dropped three sugar cubes in your drink.

You didn’t miss the amused twitch of Riddle’s lips from the corner of your eyes. This action would have earned you a reprimand and a lecture on one of hundreds of Heartslabyul’s rules. After his overblot and the incident in the rose garden, Riddle was becoming more lenient.

“You should mind your sugar intake—” Well, he’s still working on the leniency, but he’s trying— “Do you prefer a tart, a cupcake, or a cookie? Maybe you’d like to try a slice of today’s cake?”

You gave Riddle your preferred dessert, then you watched him reach over the table. Dainty, gloved fingers curled around the dish, before he brought it to you. You gave a brief nod and a mumble of thanks, before you took a bite of the treat.

“...!” You quietly moaned from the sweet taste that melted on your tongue. With a hand on your cheek, you slowly chewed to savor the sugar that graced your tastebuds. Your eyes seemed to sparkle as you dug into more of the dessert.

“It’s so good!”

You didn’t miss the satisfied smile on Riddle’s face, still cherubic and radiant. Amidst the chatter and raucous noise in this week’s Unbirthday party, you somehow heard the hint of pride in the red-haired sophomore’s words.

“Of course, that’s to be expected. Trey’s baking skills are the best in Heartslabyul—possibly in the entirety of Night Raven College.” Riddle paused, before softly adding, “I prefer his strawberry tarts, though. It’s a shame he couldn’t make any for today.”

The wistfulness in that tone of his made you pause. As Riddle took his own sip of tea, you couldn’t look away from him.

One afternoon, you marched through the silent corridors of the arcane academy. Heavy footfalls echoed in your ears, as if to mock you. The reminder of why you were wandering the halls alone made you frown.

“Where the hell are you, Grim?” You mumbled, head turning left and right, as you stomped. All the doors were closed shut, and voices could be heard through them. You doubt this area had an empty classroom at the moment.

Professor Crewel’s scowl and his whip flashed in your mind. As much as you loved Grim and his snark, you’d rather not face the wrath of the dog-loving professor. Brows furrowing, you grumbled again, “If he skips alchemy lessons again, I’m going to wring his neck and—”

“Prefect?” The gentle voice forced you to a halt, and you blinked at Heartslabyul’s warden in front of you. Riddle looked at you with a raised brow, before he crossed his arms and tapped his heel on the floor.

“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you, but…” He paused, eyes roaming your face. “You don’t seem to be in a good mood, and your class is about to start. I passed by Ace and Deuce heading towards Professor Crewel’s classroom earlier.”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and sighed. You were already on good terms with the housewarden, and you’d rather not get collared for misdirecting your annoyance.

“Hi Riddle,” you greeted with a small, strained smile to be polite. “I’m actually looking for Grim. I lost him in the crowd during the lunch rush, and well…”

You tried so hard not to curse the lovable, annoying puffball. Another heavy sigh left your lips with a shake of your head. The strained smile became an apologetic one. Riddle stared at you, most likely scrutinizing something about you. Maybe he was judging you for letting Grim get away.

“I shouldn’t be keeping you here. It’s nice to see you, though—”

“Hold on,” Riddle stepped closer and reached for your tie, “your tie is crooked. Let me fix it for you.”

You held your breath, biting your tongue to stifle any surprised noises. The red-haired sophomore was too focused on fixing your tie to notice your reaction. His knuckles brushed your chest as he tightened the knot, and you tensed. He didn’t even ask for permission. He just took initiative, and it reminded you of a doting yet strict mother for some reason.

“You should be more conscious of your appearance,” Riddle reminded kindly while smoothing the creases of your uniform coat. He stepped back and seemed satisfied with his intervention. His lips stretched into a satisfied smile again, and you couldn’t look away.

“Now, off you go. Professor Crewel isn’t forgiving when it comes to tardiness.”

“R-right,” you stuttered with a faint warmth on your cheeks. You were tempted to slap yourself for losing composure like this, but you wanted to keep your dignity. Riddle would think you lost your mind if you did.

“Thanks, Riddle.”

His smile softened, yet it grew wider. The sharp and scrutinizing gaze melted into one of appreciation. Your heart skipped a beat. The air was knocked out of your lungs. Something fuzzy and warm filled your chest as you stared at Riddle. Your fingers twitched, as if longing to touch Riddle in some way.

It was ridiculous, but you didn’t dislike the feeling either.

“You’re welcome. If you’ll excuse me, I should be heading to my own class. I wish you luck, Prefect.”

He skirted around you in one, fluid motion. The click of his heels echoed in the empty corridor as you watched him go. His short figure carried a sense of dignity and pride, something that used to terrify and annoy his wards in Heartslabyul.

It used to intimidate you, but you couldn’t look away from him now. Even when Riddle turned a corner and disappeared, you couldn’t stop staring.

Ever since that day, you couldn’t stop noticing these things about Riddle. His entire face brightened, eyes glittering and cheeks flushing pink, when presented with a strawberry tart. Whenever he smiled, his gray irises seemed to hide behind the chub of his cheeks. He always looked red in the face whenever he was embarrassed, but the addition of a scowl and wide eyes showed his anger instead. His voice always raised in pitch, becoming less gentle and more crazed, whenever he became agitated and enraged. He even lost his formality and courteousness at that point: language becoming more crude yet still refined.

One day, while preparing for a game of croquet, you pointed out how happy Riddle seemed when he took care of the hedgehogs. Ace shot you a weird look. Deuce looked perplexed, lost even, when his eyes darted to you.

“Really?” He asked, looking between Riddle crouched on the ground and you who looked surprised. “He doesn’t look any different. How could you tell?”

Brows furrowed in confusion, you told them, “It’s not obvious, but he’s smiling. See? His eyes look brighter when he looked at the hedgehogs, too. Oh, and there’s the fact that he gently pets their heads with a finger. He’s avoiding touching their quills, and he’s trying not to agitate the tiny things.”

There was a long, uneasy stretch of silence that followed your answer. After a moment, Ace’s stunned look shifted into a mischievous grin. Deuce mirrored his expression, and it reminded you of that one time he lost his composure and beat up a pair of upperclassmen.

“Huh, really?” There was an intrigued and knowing tone in the redhead’s voice. Meanwhile, Deuce turned to look at Riddle as if to verify your observation. Although, the ravenette was still grinning, as if he knew something you didn’t.

In that moment, you realized you were screwed—so, so screwed.

Upon seeing your confusion warp into a crestfallen and horrified realization, Deuce clapped a hand on your shoulder with a snicker.

“Looks like the Prefect has a crush,” he teased, but you wanted none of it. Ace followed with an incredulous yet amused, “Really? Housewarden Riddle? Strict and overbearing Housewarden Riddle? Oh, your standards are buried six feet under, Prefect.”

A hand smacked Deuce’s own off your person, and you began to stumble over your words. Both lovable yet annoying idiots laughed it off, while you half-heartedly threatened them with a raised fist.

“Shut up, or I swear to the Seven—!”

Ace and Deuce laughed louder, nearly howling and sniggering in delight. As they clutched their stomachs and you grabbed the collars of their uniforms, Riddle’s confused and curious stare was left unnoticed.

Riddle continued to invite you to their weekly Unbirthday parties as an honorary guest. He still offered you desserts with little to no comment on your sweet tooth. He still fussed over your appearance whenever you two passed each other in the halls. He always gave you a subtle smile, despite his stern demeanor. The more you spent time around the housewarden, the more dread weighed in your stomach.

You couldn’t ignore the flutters of your heart, how it flipped and did cartwheels whenever Riddle treated you kindly. No matter what he did, you always felt like you were floating and walking on clouds.

You still longed to touch him—maybe brush back a stray strand that fell over his forehead. You wanted to know how it felt to hold his hand. Maybe even take a stroll in Heartslabyul’s rose maze with him, hand-in-hand and talking about anything. You wanted to spend teatime alone with him. You wanted to see him smile after taking a bite of a strawberry tart you made for him. You wanted to gaze at the moon and the stars with him in the comfort of Riddle’s dorm room, just sitting together in that window alcove with pillows and blankets.

You wanted to do so much more with Riddle, but the large mirror before you spelled the end of your hopes and dreams.

“Well, Prefect,” Crowley began with a jovial tone, which was a stark contrast to the despair that gripped your heart, “I found a way for you to return to your world. After long, grueling hours of searching for the solution, I fulfilled my promise to you, and I even gathered your friends here for a heartfelt farewell.”

You called bullshit on that, but you still appreciated Crowley’s effort. True to his word, all of the people you befriended surrounded you in the Mirror Chamber. The occasion was treated as a formal one, if their dorm uniforms didn’t make a statement already. Everyone had varying degrees of restrained emotion, as you stood before the mirror that led to your home dimension.

Grim stood behind you with clenched paws and glassy eyes. You spotted Ace and Deuce grinning, but there was a hint of a strain in their smiles. Kalim was close to bursting into tears. Leona stared at you with a neutral look and a hand on his hip, but the harsh dig of his fingers told you otherwise. Azul wore his usual smile, one reserved for business, and Jade had a polite smile as well. Floyd didn’t share the same sentiment. The more capricious Leech brother scowled as if he ate Lilia’s cooking after being promised a tasty meal.

You didn’t dare look at Riddle. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You can’t.

Crowley spread his arms with a self-satisfied smile that both irked and endeared you to him. “Aren’t I a magnanimous and gracious headmaster to do something like this for you?”

He made a show of spinning on his heel and walking towards the doors to the Mirror Chamber. With a flamboyant wave of his hand, he exclaimed, “I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes and well-wishes. However…”

Crowley looked at you from over his shoulder, and your throat tightened at the soft smile that curled his lips.

“It was a pleasure to have you here, Prefect. I would’ve loved for you to stay until graduation, but alas. I wish you all the best once you return home.”

The last thing you saw was a swish of his cape, before a heavy weight nearly toppled you to the ground. Tan, bejeweled arms hugged your waist as a loud bawl harshly rang in the room. You didn’t even need to look to see that it was Kalim blubbering through his tears. Jamil’s alarmed voice echoed in your ears, and that seemed to be everyone’s cue to surround you.

Tearful farewells, wistful wishes, and unfulfilled promises filled the enclosed space. Grim clung to you all this time, all the while mewling and whining about how he’d lose his henchman. Still, he was crying his eyes out. The large mirror was obscured from your sight, as if the unusual group of friends you made during your time here intended this. You couldn’t help but laugh—a bittersweet sound—as everyone tried to get a word in with you. Even Malleus came to say his goodbyes, though he seemed more reserved than usual.

Then the dreaded moment came: Riddle approached you with that same smile, the gentle and subtle one he always graced you with. Everyone who noticed the shift in mood somehow left space for you and the Heartslabyul housewarden to talk. You almost giggled when you overheard Jade scold Floyd for whining about this.

You forced your smile to widen, even if your eyes stung and your throat tightened again. Your voice cracked at the end, but that could be mistaken for holding back tears.

“Hi, Riddle,” you whispered as you felt your throat tighten more, “I guess I’m leaving before I could have another Unbirthday party with all of you. I was so excited to try the macarons, too.”

The gentle smile became forlorn, and it reminded you of that time he lamented over not having strawberry tarts in that one Unbirthday party. A twinge in your heart made your breath hitch, but you hoped Riddle wouldn’t notice.

“It’s a shame, really,” he told you with a falter in his smile. The corners of his lips hitched up, as if that never happened in the first place. “I wanted you to try some tea from the Queendom of Roses as well, but… that may never happen now.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, finding it hard to breathe. The sting in your eyes worsened. Some invisible hand squeezed your heart, as if threatening to puncture the fragile thing with its talons. You maintained your composure as much as you can.

You couldn’t help but admit, “I wish I could have more time with all of you.”

I wish I had more time with you.

“I wish I could watch the third-years graduate. I wish I could see all of us graduate here, even if I don’t have magic.” You chuckled, and you found yourself with loose lips around Riddle.

“I want to have more Unbirthday parties with everyone in Heartslabyul. I want to have lunch with everyone in Mostro Lounge. I want to watch the next interdorm Spelldrive tournament and cheer for your guys. I want to spend Christmas and welcome the New Year with everyone. I want a lot of things, but… Well, I’m going home.”

Riddle’s smile slipped, and you watched him visibly swallow with a subtle frown. Even when he wasn’t smiling, he still had a gentle look on him.

“Who knows, Prefect? Maybe there will come a time when we find a way for you to visit and vice versa.” Riddle sounded so unsure, so hesitant, in his reassurance. Still, you appreciated it.

You ignored how much your heart hurt and your jaw clenched when he said that.

“I hope so.” Chuckling, you kept your arms to yourself as you smiled at Riddle. He was becoming a blur of red, white, and gold. Warm tears already spilled down your cheeks, before you even realized what was happening.

You couldn’t see his reaction, but you raised a hand to wipe away your tears. While the heel of your palm rubbed your cheek, you mumbled, “Sorry. I just…”

A white handkerchief was offered to you, and you took it with murmured gratitude. Your eyes were drawn to the embroidered initials of Riddle’s name on the corner. The cloth felt soft on your skin, and you found some comfort in that.

“Keep it,” Riddle told you with that smile again, “so that you would remember me every time you see it.”

Your mind blanked at his words. Riddle referred to himself rather than everyone in Heartslabyul, even everyone in NRC. Heart fluttering and throat tightening, you resisted the urge to sob. Hope came as a surge of warmth and the weight of dread in your chest.

Not now. Not when I’m leaving.

With a smile, melancholic yet bright, you dabbed away the last of your tears and tucked the handkerchief into your uniform pocket. A burst of courage let you wrap your arms around Riddle in a hug with a whispered, “Thank you. I’m going to miss you—all of you.”

I’m going to miss you more.

Normally, Riddle would be flustered at the sudden gesture of affection. You expected a loud stutter and an indignant scolding, but he simply returned the hug. His face was buried in your shoulder, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“You’re welcome.” You heard him whisper, followed by a faint sniff. Something warm and wet soaked through the coat and into your shoulder. You hugged Riddle tighter, as if to hide him from the rest of the world at that moment.

Too brief for your liking, Riddle pulled away with that same smile. His eyes appeared to be glassy, reflecting your tearful expression and wobbly grin. Your heart twinged again, and your jaw clenched.

It was that smile that damned you the moment Riddle fixed your tie for the first time.

“I’ll see you sometime soon, yeah?” You asked, laughing off your dread and despair. Riddle seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to say something. Your heart stuttered as you watched him open his mouth with reluctance.

Something held him back. He shook his head and merely smiled at you again.

“Of course,” he murmured, eyes hiding behind his cheeks again. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Prefect.”

In that moment, you’d have stolen the stars from the sky if Riddle wanted to make a wish. You’d bake tarts and cakes in the Heartslabyul kitchen, even if it ended in a mess of flour, if he wanted sweets. You’d stay past curfew in his dorm room to stargaze, if he was willing to break the rules just this once. You’d shower him in kisses, hugs, and cuddles if he hesitated to spell out his desire for affection.

You’d stay in Twisted Wonderland if he asked you to.

Swallowing your heartache, you forced a smile—bright and brilliant, putting the sun to shame. Your gaze never left Riddle, while unspoken feelings laid heavy on the tip of your tongue. Reality crushed your daydreams and wishes, reduced to rubble and dust. The next words felt final and absolute.

“Goodbye, Riddle.”

What remained was the handkerchief with his stitched initials in your pocket.

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headcanonsandmore · 11 days

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Can you do the "all the Doctors" thing, but what would they do if they started a band?

I certainly can!

One: Gets gently pushed into it by Vicki. Can actually play the piano rather well, and starts chuckling to themselves when he starts getting into it. Ian and Barbara got a little sick of the solos after over half an hour, though.

Two: You'd think that a recorder wouldn't be a good instrument to play in a band, but you would be as pleasantly surprised as Two was. Gets on surprisingly well with the hippie crowd, although Jamie has to keep them from getting pulled into smoking illicit substances which may or may not be legal. With time lords, who knows what the effects could be?

Three: Can practically play any instrument given to them because "my dear fellow, it would be vain to explain why". Jo loves it when they play Beatles songs. Has an unfortunate habit of playing in venues that later get attacked or blown up by the Masters scheme of the week.

Four: Pulls the weirdest looking string instument you've ever seen out of their enormous coat, plays some weird jazz-fusion stuff that sounds like a cat making love to a washing machine, grins unnervingly and walks off stage. The stage is a random cafe that hadn't even asked them to play. No-one ever speaks of it again, just in case they come back.

Five: Likes to play ABBA on the rhythym guitar, much to the amusement of their kids young friends. Insists on explaining the themes of each song before starting. Has an unfortunate habit of falling over halfway through their set and knocking themselves unconscious. Given the time period, they often get requests to play "That's Entertainment"; doesn't mind playing it but wishes Tegan and Nyssa would stop sneaking away halfway through to snog in a cupboard somewhere.

Six: Loves playing the drums. Their main inspiration is Keith Moon. Mel says it's good exercise for them. Peri is just glad that they don't wear their coat whilst trashing about with the drumsticks, because that would be a chasm too far.

Seven: Spoons. Ace rolls her eyes but knows that they enjoy it. Is surprisingly popular amongst latter-day beatniks and jazz fans. Often gives some lecture after each song. The difference is that, unlike with Five, people actually listen instead of groaning.

Eight: Just has to sing. You would not be able to stop them. They are surprisngly good at it, although sometimes you wonder whether the words have a hidden meaning.

War: Doesn't play anything, for obvious reasons.

Nine: Bass guitar, and in a very no-nonsence sort of way. Can get down and be funky with it. Rose loves it, and enjoys dancing along, which makes Nine very happy.

Ten: Maraccas, weirdly enough, and often with Donna. Both of them are laughing. The rest of the band doesn't really understand why but it seems to work so who cares?

Eleven: Glockenspiel. No, seriously. Amy and Rory don't know where it came from, and it's actually starting to get a little worrying. Especially when Eleven insists on practicing at 3am with no warning.

Twelve: Lead guitar, obviously. Nothing but shredding solos and awesome punk-style riffs. The fact that they don't have a top-selling album is mindboggling.

Thirteen: Fiddle in a folk-punk-fusion band. Very good at it and is having the time of their life. Loves to dance whilst playing. The happy love songs are their favourite, but has a habit of tripping over their feet on stage if they catch Yaz smiling at them.

Fugitive: Doesn't play anything; again, for obvious reasons.

TenThree/David Doctor/ sorry-mr-tennant-i-cannot-call-you-fourteen: Traded in the maraccas for a trumpet. Donna has a trumpet now too. Things seem to be going well for them.

Fifteen: Sampler. Creates tons of exciting sounds based on all of their previous lives, blending them together in a hopeful, joyeous mix. Well, so far anyway. We'll have to wait and see...

Thanks for the ask!

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yujateaandpi · 2 years

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Happy Asexual Awareness Week!

We’re here and platonically queer folks. It took me a long time to realize I was aroace because for most of my life, I simply believed I was getting top marks in celibacy (I’d make an AMAZING nun). I’ve always been extremely romantic and never made the connection that I loved watching happy couples in fiction without actually wanting that kind of relationship for myself. Anytime I’ve “crushed” on someone has been me hyperinflating admiration, common interests, or aesthetic appeal, so it took me a while to realize I’ve never actually experienced real attraction. It’s common for people on the demi-gray spectrum to be infantilized— told that they need to “wait for the right one” or that they need to be more realistic about their expectations. However I, like many others on the ace spectrum, am a mature adult who’s fully capable of forming healthy respectful relationships. I have been blessed with many people in my life who I love and who love me and I am confident that I can continue to find meaningful communities for the rest of my life. Platonic relationships are not any lesser than romantic ones and a romantic/ sexual relationship is NOT the pinnacle of human connection. Relationships are wonderful because humans in love are wonderful— and asexuals/ aromantics are also full of love! Feel free to comment or message me if you’d like to ask or share anything on this topic! This is a time to raise ace voices y’all.

#aroace #october 23rd 29th!!!#ace week #ace week 2022 #asexual #ace art #ace awareness #ace awareness week #asexual awareness week #asexual spectrum #ace spec #ace pride #aromantic asexual #aro pride

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oxenfreeao3 · 6 months

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Happy Ace Week!

Here’s a fun tidbit for those who follow my fanwork:

I write Vi as demisexual in all my fics.

Funny story, this was not intentional. Originally, I’d simply based her sexuality off my own experience. Much later, I saw a post on twt that was like “Demi Vi sounds right” and I didn’t know what demisexuality was so I looked it up and thought “wait, isn’t this just how sexual attraction works???”

Two seconds later I was hit with the Almighty Freight Train of Personal Realization.

I now write Vi (and Cait, who I characterize as allo) from a much more informed perspective thanks to what I’ve learned from other ace folks in the CaitVi fandom, and beyond.

I’m so grateful to have language and context for my experiences that I didn’t have before.

#asexual #demisexual #acespec #ace week #caitvi #vi #arcane #violyn #piltoversfinest #caitlyn kiramman #league of legends #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #arcane fanart #demisexual vi

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vitaminseetarot · 7 months

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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 ™

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sunnywalnut · 11 days

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I fully believe that the only thing that stopped me from identifying as trans when I was younger was the fact of my autistic black and white thinking.

Well yeah. That guy is trans. And I think he's super cool. But I couldn't be trans despite the fact that I feel more like myself with him because he embodies everything I wish I could be but stop myself from being.

Oh no I absolutely could not be transgender at all! I didn't know I was a dude since I was three like all these other people who were taught the concept of gender and the fact that gay people exist from a young age and I only learned lesbians existed after I was ten years old.

Of course that person is transgender. The whole reason I changed the name on the sticky note set on their desk was because they're my friend and I'm an ally. Totally not because I want somebody to do the same for me.

Nah bro. I don't think my obsession with gender neutral names and wanting to change my name to Alex because it was the only gn name I knew at the time had any transgender reasons for it. I'm just super attached to the idea of accidentally being mistaken for a boy. Even if it's just by name.

The reason I specifically searched for books with male protagonists my age when I was younger was totally because of super straight reasons and not because I identified with them more than any of the female leads, despite being extremely similar to a lot of them.

Oh totally I'm not jealous of my brother who's only one year older than me, therefore I get to see him embody all these manly traits like getting a cool low voice and be taught things that I wish I could learn but I wasn't explicitly invited so I stay where I was.

What do you mean it's not normal to treasure the blue Finding Nemo basketball cap that I sneered at on Christmas Day for "looking too boyish" and wearing it inside the house while I crawled up on my grandfather's lap so he could read to me.

Of course my best friend of over seven years is my sister! Despite the fact that I feel completely uncomfortable when she claims that I am hers. Not because we're not family. Because something is wrong with the word "sister" and I can't tell what.

I mean shit. The only reason I realized that I could've been queer was bc somebody told me that if I(a "straight girl") liked a trans guy, then I would be pansexual.

Untrue, obviously, since trans guys are still guys, and my little 13yo brain thought the same way, but the fact that somebody said it so casually just opened the floodgates of "what ifs" for me.

And you know what?

The year after that, I came out publicly as bi. Then ace. Then two years after that gender fluid. Then in the same year, transmasc. Then lesbian a couple months later. Then transmasc but not lesbian after a couple weeks because my partner was also genderfluid. And now? Transmasc/trans man and bi, specifically for the girls and gnc folks.

Had that person not told me I was pansexual, I'm pretty sure I would've just gone around being indifferent to my romantic partners thinking that friendship was the romance all along this entire time.

Six entire years. And I was autistic the whole time.

It was always about being a good person for the "other" people who needed me until I realized I could be the other people as well.

The whole reason I didn't "show signs" of being transgender during my childhood?

Same reason I didn't show signs of being autistic.

I was mirroring people. I was mirroring what I thought was needed of me. Ignoring my interests or things I was curious about. Because I knew what was expected of me. That part of it was explained thoroughly, at the very least. The gender part of it all. And by God, I was going to do a good job at it.

And yeah. I was happy when I found dresses that were pretty.

Not because I was the one wearing them.

But because it meant that my mom thought I was doing such a good job at Gender that I deserved a skirt. In order to show it off to everyone.

Same reason I allowed my hair to be done. Little jewels to be twisted into my long locks that I grew myself and refused to cut. Because this was what I was good at. Everyone, even if they didn't like me, they liked my long, feminine hair. They liked my frilly, feminine dresses. And my shiny, feminine jewelry.

And well... I liked being liked. I liked being admired.

Because nobody noticed me any other way.

Unless it was for my art.

I was good at art.

I'm still good at art.

My "feminine" art.

I no longer get joy from long hair and frilly dresses and shiny jewelry.

But I still get joy from art.

Even if it isn't feminine.

Even if it isn't shown to anyone.

Because it is mine.

It is me.

It is the one thing that I grew up seeing that everyone could do. Regardless of skill. Everyone was thrown in a class together. Everyone crowded around the girl who drew anime in class. Everyone knew of the famous men like Van Gogh. Everyone was able to do art. Everyone was able to be creative. To get messy. To work with their hands.

And everyone meant that there was space for me, too.

There were finally shades of gray.

And I clutch them dearly to my heart, right next to the rainbows of devotion I painted on the inside walls of my ribcage.

Each palette I've created is a labor of love, used to picture the world in each wonderful shade of admiration.

And that is still the one thing that I have found that try as they might, they cannot sort into sexes.

So I keep my shades of gray. I keep my rainbows and my flags. And I paint them with all the colors I like. Because art showed me a way to be free. And I refuse to live my life in a cage. Regardless of who's hands made it.

I just know that it won't be mine.

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aromantic-diaries · 6 months

Note

hi! i just wanted to talk to you about my aro/ace experiences because you seem really cool

ace:

i was almost 14. on vacation, room to myself, no parents.

i stayed up for a long time on instagram

because when i'm alone like that is one of the only times i get that late-night phone time

found asexual tag

i scrolled through that tag for HOURS

the posts were relatable

but i was too young, right?

too young to be ace?

(was i)

(don't think so)

i decided "fuck it"

identified as ace

messaged an online friend

they

were

amazing

i love them so much

they supported me and hell yes that was the best part of it

next day:

felt sick

felt really sick

i didn't like being ace, not at first

i'd been an ally for a while

never had a problem with lgbtqia+

but me myself being queer felt so wrong and so bad and so messed up

it got better

then later

i was talking with my mom

brought up not liking sex

she'd always been an ally

later i checked out a few ace books

my mom pulled me aside

"it's normal to be curious"

"but you're too young to be ace"

not direct quotes

but that was what she meant

i convinced her

i was allo

later on

i came out to a friend

and her mom

they were nice about it

really nice

aro:

took me longer

because i'm not 100% aro

i'm demi

i'd only had one crush

a childhood friend

when i was 11-13

that's how long the crush lasted

2 years

so how the hell could i be aro

if i'd had a crush?

i debated for a while

maybe it was a side effect of being ace

had to pick a label

allo

demi

or gray

picked demi

it fit best

friends' crushes came and went and came and went and came and went

not me

3d printed a black ring and a white one

i wore them

my mom noticed

i was scared

she had no idea

still doesn't have any idea

what they mean

happy ace week folks <3

Thank you for sharing your story! I hope there's a chance that your mom might be more understanding in the future but until then, stay you. Not everyone understands but there will always be people who do. I'm proud of you!

#anon #mail time

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festeringmoons · 6 months

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Happy Ace Week to all the aces and aros and aroaces and people who are in the “experience little attraction” part of the definition and demi-aces and demi-aros and gray-aces and gray-aros and ace people who have sex and ace people who hate sex and aros in relationships and single aros and loveless aros and aplatonic folks and anyone else who I didn’t include but who deserves to be part of this community

wishing you guys acceptance and understanding wherever you might go. and also a dessert of your choice

may your futures be whatever you dream them to be :3

#ace week #asexual #aromantic #asexuality #demiromantic #demisexual #graysexual #grayromantic #idk I’m probably forgetting something or wording something wrong or not tagging well or whatever #But it’s late and I’m tired and some things need to be said #my post

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victoria-daydreams · 1 year

Text

The Hare and The Tower

Chapter Seven: The Lady Hightower Part II

AN: I LIVE *in mushu voice*. I know took me awhile again, but the bills don’t pay themselves unfortunately. This is a long one folks, hope you like it and buckle up. Has not been proofread (I’m exhausted), we die like men.

Trigger Warning: SMUT - MINORS DNI, age gap, mentions of infertility

Word Count: 6.4k

Taglist: @riviaborns @dogmatic255 @amethystwonders11 @sidechrisporn @snowymarvel1205 @helloimlateforeverything @ladysindar @sweetwanderlust05 @newandykes

If you wanted to be added to the taglist just leave a comment.

Summary: Three blissful years of being Lady Hightower pass and questions, whispers, and unwanted noses begin to worm themselves into Jesmyn’s marriage due to a particular matter. Or more specifically, lack thereof. It all comes to a head during a hunting trip where Jesmyn gains an unlikely ally in her midst.

Chapter Eight: Wifely Duties

116 AC, Westeros

A deep, peaceful silence hung upon the early noon air. The quiet was disturbed only by the soft creak of wooden wheels rolling, the clopping of four sets hooves trotting against the dirt road, and the occasional page turning of a book. Inside the carriage sat two travelers, a husband and wife.

“If it pleases you, I can you give another book,” Otto said, waking Jesmyn from her daze.

She blinked her eyes a few times, the interior of the carriage coming into view. Dark red velvet lined the seats, the sides and doors were left bare, matching the silver exterior.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve been staring at the same page for quite some time now,” he remarked, with an amused expression. “I shall keep my book recommendations to myself, my lady wife is none too impressed,” he noted, lightly laughing.

A strained smile appeared on Jesmyn’s face as she shut the book, gently placing it down on the plush cushioned bench. Turning her head, she stared out the decorative grated window scanning the passing countryside as their carriage moved down the road. An audible sigh came from Jesmyn, her face pinched and lips pursed. She had a restless night sleep. The knots of anxiety in her stomach kept her awake, tossing and turning.

“My love,” Otto called softly. “I beg of you, tell me what troubles thee. You have not been yourself this week,” he said, snapping his own book shut.

Jesmyn didn’t respond immediately to her husband. Instead, she remained stony faced and kept her focus on the trees who’s leaves were aflame with red, purple, and gold. After another moment of silence she finally turned away from the window to glance at Otto, his entire face a mask of concern.

“Unburden yourself Jesmyn,” he pleaded, eyes filled with worry.

Jesmyn’s expression was uncertain, her eyes wavering before she shook her head from side to side. Uneasiness crept into her stomach causing her to shiver. The carriage ride was making her want to lose her breakfast.

“If not for me, then for you,” he said, with care to his voice as he can tell that she was troubled by something.

She took a moment, gathering her courage. Her fists clutched her richly decorated emerald gown.

"Otto? Are you….happy with me? As your wife?" Jesmyn asked, her voice hesitant.

Instantly, his expression softened, “More than I can put into words. I’ve never been happier Jesmyn,” he declared, his face lighting up.

“Despite, me not bearing you a child?” she pushed, trying to swallow her words.

“Yes, for I haven’t asked that of you—”

“It doesn’t matter if you asked me of it, it’s expected!” she snapped, her nostrils flaring slightly.

Otto's brows raised, stunned by her sudden outburst as an uncomfortable silence poured into the carriage. After recovering from the initial shock, Otto stared at Jesmyn and quickly she dropped her gaze to the floor. The back of Jesmyn's neck felt hot and wet with embarrassment.

“Forgive me, Husband. It’s unfair of me to take my frustrations out on you,” she apologized, exhaling heavily.

“Is this what has been bothering you, Jesmyn? Otto asked, trying to move back into her line of vision.

“Yes,”

Still avoiding his gaze, Jesmyn nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a gentle touch on her knee. Her eyes shot up, meeting a pair a gentle blue eyes.

“Come here,” Otto beckoned.

Silently, she quirked an eyebrow at the demand, but rose from her seat. However, just as she stepped forward, the carriage rolled over what must have been a deep hole in the road caused the carriage to jolt. Jesmyn was sent her flailing into Otto’s arms with a tiny squeal. Jesmyn’s fingers tightly clutched themselves into his cape, akin to a death grip. It made a smile appear from underneath Otto's mustache and beard.,

“Where is this all coming from Jesmyn?” he asked, gently running across her cheek.

“Tongues are wagging in court, Otto,” she answered, leaning into his touch.

“Name them and I’ll shall have them silenced,”

“And give them the satisfaction of knowing their words bother me?” she asked, with a scoff. “I think not,” she said, shaking her head.

“What words are these tongues speaking?”

“The lack children I haven’t had,” she explained. “For three years, we’ve been husband and wife, and there’s nothing to show for it,” she continued, placing her hand on her stomach. “Do you know what they say about me when they think I’m not listening? When I’m not present?” she asked. "'The Lady Hightower, so young and vivacious, but as barren as an old maid'," she recited, her lips tightening into a bitter smile.

Otto’s jaw clenched, his temples rippling with anger, “You remain steadfast on your decision of no tongues being cut?”

With a faint smile, Jesmyn nodded her head, “We have coupled with each other many times, Husband,” she continued. “Yet, you…you never finish inside me, Otto,” she remarked.

Gently, he took her hand in his, “It was my belief, you did not want me to,” Otto answered, stroking his finger along her skin. “When you spoke of your aunt and her fate, there was this terror in your eyes,” he recalled. “As your husband, it is my duty to love, honor, and protect you. Not instill fear within you,” he said, bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles.

“And as your wife, my duty is to bear you children,” she countered easily. “The next time we join with each other, I want you to…finish in me,” she requested, feeling strange having to say such a sentence aloud.

Otto only hummed in response, “Is this my wife speaking her wishes, or is this the members of the court?” he asked.

“Both,” she answered honestly. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when Aegon is in my arms,” Jesmyn remarked. “Secretly, you wish it was a child of our own,”

“I cannot deny such a sight was pleasing to me,” Otto admitted.

“Then, I shall not deny you any longer, Husband,”

A smile broke out on Otto’s face before his lips planted themselves onto of her forehead.

“Do you mean it?”

“I do,”

With a grin, Jesmyn laid her head down on his shoulder, nestling into the crook of his neck. Softly, he kissed the top of her head again. Jesmyn wished they could be alone like this all the time. She would give anything for such a dream to be bestowed on them. But alas, that was far-fetched and unrealistic. So, she would settle for the private moments like these, it made them much more cherishable. For the first time in a week, all the racing thoughts in her mind were quiet. She was at ease and with the gentle rocking of the carriage, Jesmyn believed she would be able to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

"How did I ever get to be so lucky to have met someone as beautiful as you?”

Jesmyn raised her head, "My handsome Otto," she began, cupping his cheek with her hand. "I am the one who is lucky. Most girls can only hope to meet a caring and compassionate man in their slumber, but not I. I don’t have to dream,"

Wordlessly, Otto leaned forward to meet her lips in a soft kiss, like it's the first time and the last time all at once. Jesmyn’s eyes fluttered close as she skillfully parted his lips, a low moan vibrated in his throat. Her fingers curled themselves into his dark hair and tugged gently, savoring the way their lips danced together. Otto’s thumb ran over her lower lip, coaxing her mouth open so his tongue can slip inside. Instinctively, he pulled her tighter against his body, moaning softly as Jesmyn’s curvaceous frame pressed against his.

Sliding his hand down her back, and then across her rear, Jesmyn was left feeling wholly intoxicated, as her head tilted to keep up with Otto’s hungry lips. Quickly, the kiss is not as playful anymore. His hands slipped under her cloak, skimming over her breasts on its way to her waist and she gasped sharply, breaking the kiss. Feeling his tongue brush across hers, a whimper escaped Jesmyn as she deepened the kiss. Their tongues glided against each other languidly.

Undeterred, Otto continued trailing kisses across her cheek then down to the delicate skin of her neck. His breath warmed her skin, helping dispel any trace of the chill from outside. Sighs of pleasure escaped Jesmyn’s mouth at the sensation of his carefully trimmed beard scratching lightly against her. Otto’s hand caressed its way up her side and brushing over her breasts. She pulled away slightly, her blood heating up, her dress starting to feel much too tight with her speeding breaths.

“Too much?” Otto asked.

“Not nearly enough,” she quipped, then her mouth was on his.

Their kiss deepened and his hands moved back to her chest. Gentle, but determined squeezes from his hands sent a gush of delight through her and a delicious ache inside her blossomed further. Otto’s thumbs grazed her nipples through the fabric of her dress, eliciting a soft moan from her. As their kiss reached a natural ending, she gasped for breath. Her arousal was lazy yet burning, almost simmering beneath her skin.

Jesmyn brought her hands up to the collar of her cloak, unfastening the ties, slowly. A coy smile growing on her lips as Otto watched with bated breath.

"Jesmyn," he warned, swallowing thickly. "The footmen are just outside,” he reminded, never making a move to stop her.

A mischievous glint shone in her eyes, “Well then, I guess we’ll to be quiet,” she whispered, carelessly discarding her cloak to the other side of the carriage. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said you wanted to fuck me a carriage?” she recalled, her lips curved impishly.

It was safe to say their sex life was far from bland by any stretch of the imagination. Though you wouldn't be able to tell that by how normal they acted in public. A proper lady in front of court, but a whore behind closed doors. They partook in all manner of positions and kinks as they indulged in their own private fantasies. Otto was open minded to almost anything she suggested, and Jesmyn was up for most the things she was intrigued by.

Her shy smile seemed to taunt him with need for his touch. Otto pulled her back towards him, throwing caution to the wind.

"Gods help me," he breathed. "I can't say no to you," he stated, slightly shaking his head. Otto cupped her breast and her mouth fell open, gasping. "I can't say no to this," he rasped, giving the mound of flesh a squeeze.

Slowly, Jesmyn coaxed his hands downwards, hiking up her skirts to her knees.

“You best get to work then, Lord Hand. Your wife demands it,”

~~~x~~~

With the help of a footman, Jesmyn stepped onto the earth for the first time in hours. Inhaling deeply, she let out a happy sigh, grateful to no longer feel cramped in a confined space. The sun shined high in the sky, light spilling through the branches and illuminating the forest floor. A brisk blast of wind cut through the air, sending cyclones of decaying leaves twirling across the plain full of tents both large and small. The Kingswood was buzzing with activity from servants, nobles, and guards.

“Stepmother,” Alicent greeted, holding her swollen stomach.

“Your Grace,” Jesmyn said, with a curtesy.

“You look to be in better spirits than earlier,” she remarked, eyes trailing over her.

Jesmyn smiled, “I am,” she answered, nodding happily. “Fresh air and a carriage ride cures all it seems,” she quipped.

Jesmyn’s cry of pleasure was swiftly muffled by Otto covering her mouth with his, melting into a muffled moan of orgasmic bliss. Her body spasmed against his thrusting fingers as she rode out her climax with jerky movements. Gradually Otto slowed his thrusting fingers until he came to a complete stop, leaving Jesmyn a heavily panting mess. The post-orgasm buzz left her feeling tingly all over, bordering on numb.

''Otto,” Jesmyn said breathlessly, smiling at him and conveying her affection without words.

“It’s a mystery how I didn’t realize it sooner,” Otto stated, coming up beside her. “The Claricks are renowned for their archery and hunting parties,” he recalled.

She patted his bicep, “I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to me, my love,” Jesmyn reassured, smiling sweetly at him.

Alicent’s lips quirked up halfway in grimace, “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, and continued walking to the large tent.

“We should follow,” Otto suggested.

“You go ahead Husband,” Jesmyn said. “I think I’ll linger out here for a moment, I wish to enjoy the fresh air,”

He smiled at her, “Not too long though,” he warned, reaching to graze her chin. “I will not have you getting sick in this weather,” he said.

Jesmyn mirrored his expression, “I won’t, I promise,” she reassured, gazing up at him.

With a nod of his head, he turned around and followed the same path as Alicent. Exhaling softly, Jesmyn scanned the trees of the King’s Woods and from the corner of her eye, she saw a figure approaching her. She looked to her left and instantly regretted she did.

“Good brother,” she greeted, forcing her lips to curl upwards.

“Jesmyn,” Hobert responded shortly.

“I thought you would be in the tent with everyone else,” she said, interlocking her fingers together. “Otto is inside already,” she informed.

“I could say the same about you, Good sister. You should not be stray from your Lord husband,”

Jesmyn’s temple throbbed and she bit her tongue to refrain from saying something improper.

“I am my own person, Hobert. I see no reason nor need to constantly hover over my husband’s shoulders,” she replied, and Hobert let out a scoff. Her body stiffened at the sound. “Good brother, if there is something you wish to say to me, then say it,” she said bluntly. “I’ve always known of your dislike for me. You wanted Otto to marry a Lady from The Reach to your strengthen ties there, but he didn’t. He chose me, a Lady from the Riverlands,” she finished, turning to look at him.

Hobert met her gaze, “I misjudged your father, Lord Clarick. I knew he was an ambitious man, but it seems I foolishly underestimated his cleverness,” he began.

“I do not follow,” Jesmyn said, her brows furrowing.

“He was smart, trotting you out to give your condolences and comfort your dear friend Alicent. And in doing so, he planted the seeds,” he continued cryptically. “The young, elegant Lady Clarick known to be soft spoken and everything a highborn lady should be,” he described resentfully. “How could he ever resist you? My brother was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame,”

“You’re not suggesting my father used a man’s grief to elevate himself and his house?” Jesmyn said, her lip curling in disdain at the implication.

“It’s as I said before, your father is ambitious and it’s quite a feat he managed to get The King’s Hand to marry his barren daughter,” Hobert sneered.

“I am not barren!” Jesmyn hissed lowly.

“If you are not barren, Lady Hightower,” he retorted mockingly. “Then what else could it be?” he hissed back. “Alicent has given birth to the Prince with another child on the way,” he pointed out. “Three years of marriage and how many children have you pushed out? None. I grow impatient waiting for nephews and nieces,” Hobert stated.

“You grow impatient?” Jesmyn asked incredulously. “I am not some broodmare, who’s only purpose is to lie on their back!” she argued.

“So you’ve forsaken your wifely duties?”

“I’ve done my wifely duties, several times over!” she bit back, her eyes narrowing. “This air has grown foul, I shall take my leave,” she remarked, glaring at him one final time.

Turning around, Jesmyn made the short walk to the large, crimson and gold tent where all the nobles have gathered. She crossed through the open flaps and was greeted with the sight of lords and ladies engagedly conversing with one another. As her eyes swept through the crowd, one head stood out from the rest. Her father’s. Jesmyn made a beeline straight for him, she needed to know the truth.

“Lady Hightower!” a female voice called, stopping Jesmyn in her tracks.

She looked over her shoulder to see Lady Redwyne, sitting with Alicent and other ladies of the court.

“A circle of vultures more like,” she thought.

“You must come sit with us,” Lady Redwyne said invitingly, stroking the dog in her lap. “Your presence has been sorely missed,” she added.

Jesmyn flashed the middle aged woman a smile, although on the inside she felt nothing but dread.

“Of course,” she agreed happily, moving to the circle of chairs. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to an empty next to a lady and she nodded. “Thank you,” she smiled gracefully.

When she lowered herself into the seat, Jesmyn noticed a man with dark brown hair, also sat with the circle of ladies which she found odd. No man would ever willing subject themselves to sitting through ladies gossip. Then, she saw his cane and realized why he sat with them. Jesmyn raised her gaze to his face only to see he was already staring back at her with his beady eyes. His stare was unnerving and his face resembled a weasel to her, quickly she averted her eyes and focused on pulling her gloves off.

“Isn’t that right Lady Hightower?”

Jesmyn’s head snapped up, looking in Lady Redwyne’s direction.

“Forgive me, what were you saying Lady Redwyne?” she asked,

“I said Prince Aegon will need to have playmates soon,” she repeated, her lips tugging into a grin. It made Jesmyn’s skin boil. “Tell us, when will the Prince have an uncle or aunt to play with? Soon, I hope?”

A gentle smile formed on her lips, “The gods have not blessed Lord Hightower and I with a child yet,” Jesmyn answered calmly, her nails digging into the fine material of her gloves.

All eyes were on her and she hated the contemptuous or pitying stares she was receiving from the ladies circle.

“Hmmm,” Lady Redwyne hummed, as if she were mulling on the thought. “If it’s herbal remedies you need, I am more than happy to tell you which ones to ask for from the maester,” she suggested.

“Lady Redwyne, your concern is appreciated,” Jesmyn began diplomatically. “However, matters relating to my bedchambers are simply inappropriate,” she said firmly.

Jesmyn had to will herself to not let her eyes water up.

“I am just trying to help Lady Hightower,” Lady Redwyne insisted. “For a woman quite young—”

“Lady Hightower is correct,” Alicent cut in, silencing the older woman. Jesmyn’s eyes snapped over to Alicent’s. A subtle apologetic expression displayed itself across her face. “Let us move onto a different topic, she demanded softly.

No sooner than those words left Alicent’s lips, a woman brought up the latest style of dresses, effectively pulling the attention away from Jesmyn. As the rest of the ladies excitedly chatted with each other, Jesmyn let her eyes drift to Alicent. She smiled along to the conversations and for the briefest of seconds their eyes connected. Jesmyn mouthed only two words to her.

“Thank you,”

~~~x~~~

“Might I steal my father away you, my lords?” Jesmyn asked, smiling pleasantly.

Her own words echoed in her head as she and Lord Clarick sat under a pavilion away from King Viserys’ tent. Silence was shared between them, the only sound which could be heard was the wine trickling out of a pitcher and into their waiting cups by a servant.

“What troubles you my child?” Lord Clarick questioned curiously, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand.

“Hobert Hightower levied an accusation against you that I know to be untrue,” Jesmyn said, bringing the goblets to her lips.

He chuckled, “This should be entertaining to hear,” he remarked. “What did your good brother accuse me of?” he asked, his eyes a light with glee.

“He claims you strategically used me during the time I was comforting Alicent when her mother died,” Jesmyn informed, with a scoff. “He thinks it was your plan for Otto to set his sight on me and begin to court me. It’s ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head.

“No, it not,” Lord Clarick disagreed, sipping his wine and making her head whip to him. “That’s exactly what I wanted to happen, and it happened,” he said proudly.

“You admit it?” Jesmyn asked incredulously.

“I took advantage of nothing, though your lord husband cannot say the same, can he?” he quipped. “Jesmyn, you comforted Alicent on your own without having to be told, because she is your friend. I only stressed to you to give your condolences to Lord Hightower, and to make small conversation with him,” he explained casually.

“Now Jesmyn, when you visit Alicent in her quarters, make sure you speak and give your condolences to Lord Hightower,”

“Of course, Father,”

“Unbelievable,” Jesmyn breathed, shaking her head.

Tense quietness fell over them and Jesmyn looked into the sky. Birds flitted about in the blue, cloudless expanse above the tents of the royal hunting party.

“Why the fuss?” Lord Clarick asked, laughing a little. “Your happy, Lord Hightower is happy, I’m happy, and you made your house richer,” Lord Clarick pointed out.

“Do you think he knows?” she asked worriedly, before drinking deeply from the goblet. “I’m scared to think of what he would, if he realized…” she trailed off, draining the rest of her cup.

“Does he know about my underlying motive? Perhaps,” Lord Clarick guessed, swirling his wine around. “Otto gains nothing from confronting me about it. He’s happy and in love, he’ll leave it be,” he assured and shifted in his seat. “He’ll be happier once you give him a son,” he commented, pointing at her.

“Oh not this again,” Jesmyn thought.

Fortunately, before Lord Clarick could get another word out, one of Alicent’s handmaiden approached their pavilion.

“Lord Clarick, Lady Hightower,” she greeted, dropping into curtsy. “The Queen has summoned you, my Lady,” she informed.

Jesmyn glanced at her father briefly, and placed her goblet down before rising to her feet.

“Lead the way,” Jesmyn said kindly.

She followed closely behind the handmaiden, wondering why Alicent requested her presence. Just as she and the maid drew closer to the tent, Rhaenyra suddenly came storming out. Jesmyn’s head swiveled, following her path but the soft call of the handmaiden made her turn around. Holding her breath, she went inside the tent, silently praying she would not encounter the same thing almost an hour ago. This time Alicent sat alone.

Jesmyn curtsied, “You wished to see me My Queen,” she said.

“Yes, please sit,” Alicent encouraged, gesturing next to her. She directed her attention to the handmaiden. “You may go, thank you,” she said, as Jesmyn sat down.

“I must say this is unexpected, Your Grace,” Jesmyn admitted, with a slight chuckle.

She shook her head, “Please, there’s no need to be so formal, Jesmyn,” Alicent stated, making Jesmyn’s eyes widened.

“Jesmyn? Not Stepmother or Lady Hightower?” she asked, a sardonic laugh leaving her.

Alicent nodded, “How are you?” she questioned, a genuine look of concern on her face. “Lady Redwyne…well, you know how Lady Redwyne can be,” she commented.

“I am not barren!” Jesmyn said defensively, keeping her voice low.

“I know, I know,” Alicent reassured, discreetly placing a comforting hand on top of hers. “However, it’s been three years Jesmyn,” she said quietly. “Have you any difficulties with childbearing?” she asked in a hushed tone. “I can be discreet, and have the maester help you,” she explained, sincerity shining in her eyes.

“Alicent, I have no issues with childbearing, none that I know of,” Jesmyn answered, just as quietly and Alicent’s brows furrowed.

“Then, what is it?” she asked, with a puzzled expression. “The marriage was consummated, yes?”

“It was,” Jesmyn answered slowly, feeling awkward speaking about this with her. “But when it was, there was not any intention of a pregnancy,” she explained.

Alicent’s confusion only deepened, “My father gave you a choice?”

“One time, I told your father my fears of the birthing bed and it stayed with him,” Jesmyn said, smiling a little. “So kind and caring, he is. Otto has never been forceful about having children,” she informed, her lips curling up a little more.

“Really?” Alicent asked, her mouth stretching into a thin line.

Jesmyn nodded, “When we…lay with each other, it’s always been for pleasure,” she said, her cheeks growing hot in embarrassment.

“Pleasure?”

“Yes,” Jesmyn responded, lightly laughing. “Sex doesn’t just have to be about having children,” she said lowly, as if it was obvious. “You don’t have to lie there and let a man have their way with you,”

“And, this has been your experience?” Alicent asked, and her demeanor slowly beginning to darken.

“Yes,” Jesmyn answered simply, a sly grin forming on face.

With her post-orgasmic high fading, Jesmyn’s eyes flickered down to her husband’s crotch. There was a prominent tent in his pants. Letting out an airy giggle, she grinned and reached down to palm him, earning a small grunt for her efforts. His hips rose quickly to follow her hand.

"Husband, it appears you've have a bit of problem down here," she whispered hotly into his ear. "Would you like your lady wife to assist you with it?"

Sparing her a glance, "It’s as I said, I can never say no to you," he said.

Smirking, Jesmyn methodically pulled the drawstring of his breeches loose. With one final tug, his erection sprang free and upwards. Leaning back, she watched smugly as his member jerked from side to side, free of any touch, searching for the warm comfort of her body. The head of it was pulsing red with need. Wrapping her fingers around his member, Otto released a stilted groan, his breath quivering.

Jesmyn did an experimental stroke and he bucked up into her hand. Precum leaked steadily from the tip, Jesmyn had to fight the urge to lick it away. Grinning, she licked his earlobe as she took him in her hand once more, slowly stroking him from base to tip over and over again. He was hot and solid in her palm and she felt him pulse in response to the steady rhythm of her pumps.

“Does that feel good, my lord?” she asked, lightly biting his earlobe.

Otto’s eyes were shut, lost in ecstasy as his hips thrusted up in time with her strokes. Jesmyn was certain he did not hear a word of what she just said. So, she let go, and a most rare noise came from her husband, a whimper. Otto’s eyes snapped open, his chest heaving.

“W-Why did you stop?” he asked, out of breath.

“You didn’t respond to me,” she replied with faux innocence. “How am I supposed to know if I’m pleasing my lord husband if he doesn’t answer me,”

“Being cheeky are we?” he remarked, with a frustrated huff.

She shrugged, “It was a simple question,” she said playfully, before glancing back down to his crotch. His shaft still standing tall, fully erect, and throbbing. “Shall I continue?” she asked innocently.

"Enough, Jesmyn," he groaned, his patience reaching its limits. "Get to it—"

Jesmyn squeezed him an inch, the subsequent moan was music to her ears. Maintaining her grip, Jesmyn resumed pumping him, slowly stroking his thick shaft. With each stroke Otto’s composure loosens further, his noble visage crumbling away bit by bit. Her own heart rate quickening, her lust starting to flare up.

By now, her hand is coated, no, drenched in clear, slick precum making it slide with ease and glimmer in the light. Otto was leaking so much it was overflowing from the head and dribbling all the way down over her fist. Jesmyn did not take her eyes off her husband, looking him up and down: enjoying the rosiness of his cheeks, the light sheen of sweat sparkling on his face, his heavy breathing, and the occasional whine with each thrust into her hand. If there is one thing Jesmyn adored, it's seeing her husband turn into putty because she was only one who could make it happen. It’s an enticing sight that she couldn’t resist.

Otto beckoned her with his fingers and she obliged, leaning forward to meet him halfway with a deep kiss. He moaned quietly against her mouth

"Mmmm…Jesmyn…" he breathed.

His lips slid over her own, their tongues gliding against each other languidly. Otto’s grunts and moans tell her all she needs to know—he in was close to coming. Jesmyn wanted the perfect moment to pull him over the edge. She drew back, moving her mouth to his ear and pulling the lobe between her teeth.

She started to stroke him faster, "Come, Otto…come for me…" she whispered in a husky voice,

He groaned, pulsing and throbbing in her grip.

"Fuck!" Otto growled.

Jesmyn repeated her command, his body tensing as he buried his face into her neck. Not a second later, her wish was granted, and she lets out a most blissful moan as her husband climaxed. With a loud, muffled cry of her name, Otto came; his seed leaving his shaft in long, hot, pearly ropes. The noises emanating from Jesmyn’s hand growing wetter as he couldn’t stop thrusting through his climax.

"Oh… gods…"

As Otto panted from his release, Jesmyn released his member from her grip and pulled away to admire her work. Raising her hand, drops of cum trickled down her skin. Otto’s eyes were still misted with lust, his swallows becoming more pronounced as he watched her slowly lick the white substance from her fingers and moan lowly.

“Simply delectable,” she purred.

Her eyes then fall upon his cock once more and the sight gives her pause, if only a short one.

"My, my, you've made quite a mess," she lowered herself to hover just before his base. "So naughty, guess I'll have to clean you up," she dragged her tongue across his length, immediately relishing in both his taste and his warmth as she moaned to herself again.

Then with little warning Jesmyn took his cock into her mouth, lips sliding over the head and engulfing his girth. The erotic movement coaxed out a strained hiss from Otto’s throat.

“G-Good girl," he praised her, wrapping a hand in her hair. “Such a good girl,” he bit out, shoving her down deeper and grunting gutturally as her tongue grazed the underside of his cock.

Their heavy breathing was disguised by the racket of the carriage.

She grinned to herself at the memory, “Not to pry, but is it not the same for you?” Jesmyn asked, tilting her head.

“Yes,” Alicent answered quickly, her mouth turning upwards into a smile, but appeared closer to a scowl.

~~~x~~~

Night hung over the Red Keep, the stars brightly shining in the dark sky. Many nobles who attended the royal hunt, retired to their rooms to rest from the all festivities over the course of the past several days. Within one wing of the castle however, slumbering was the very last thing on the mind of two of its occupants. Illuminated only by a gentle roaring fire coming from the fireplace, two silhouettes were cast onto the wall. The light from the flames made the sight of their lovemaking all the more alluring.

The lewd symphony of wet skin slapping against skin in a sharp, fast rhythm flooded from the bedchamber of The Tower of the Hand. Low grunts resounded off the walls that were almost primal in nature, accompanied by the distinct sounds was heavy panting and pitchy moans.

"So...fucking good…" Otto panted mindlessly, with each thrust filling the room with the erotic melody of his wet cock plunging into Jesmyn’s womanhood over and over again.

''Mmh…yes—'' she moaned out. ''J-Just like that!'' she mewled, his balls slapping her exposed clit and sending shivers up her spine.

"Like this?" Otto asked, his voice laced with arousal.

His question was punctuated by a harsh thrust that made Jesmyn’s face contort in pleasure. She nodded quickly, goosebumps racing up the back of her neck as he continued to press himself deep inside.

“Gods, yes!” she whispered, so sultry she sounded like a whore from the Street of Silk.

Jesmyn’s hips bucked back with every deep, hard stroke Otto railed her with. Her hands fist the sheet, twisting them between her fingers as her head lolled back. Otto grunted in reply, plowing his hips forth harder and making her breasts bounce lightly from the force. The rough pace made Jesmyn moan all the more, eliciting hot cries from her. Otto’s callused grip on her waist was nearly bruising as he dug them punishingly into her skin.

“You’re going to look so beautiful with your belly full of my seed!” he bit out, his voice deep and lustful as his cock sheathed itself inside her dripping folds. "You'll have so much of me inside of you," he growled into her ear, grinding his cock against her.

The only response Jesmyn could give was to whine pathetically. Drawing back all the way to the tip, Otto slammed his hips forcefully back into her and caused her arms to give out beneath her. Jesmyn was sent flopping face first into the sheets, gasping and moaning as she took him from behind. In this position, her ass was pushed into the air, letting Otto's cock sink even further into her cunt. The action forced a strangled groan to rumble deep within Otto’s throat.

A strong hand connected with her right buttock, a loud smack resonating in the air and a pleasured whimper left her lips. The sting of the slap had left her skin tingling and hot. Otto struck her backside again, harder, and the muscles of her inner walls fluttered around his member before clamping down upon him.

“Fuck!” he hissed.

Otto’s hands roamed up and down her back and ass, squeezing the soft flesh. One hand traced along her spine before tangled itself in her hair. He gathered a handful of her raven coils and gave it a sharp tug, pulling her flush against him. Jesmyn moaned loudly, her back arching enticingly for him to pound into her harder.

Otto groaned into her flesh as clenched tightly around his cock again before biting down hard on the crook of her neck. He reached around her, cupping one of her plump breasts from behind. Gripping onto her nipple, he began to roll the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger ripping a helpless cry of pleasure from her throat as she arched into him. Jesmyn gasped between breaths, shutting her eyes tightly as she felt his mouth sucking and licking at the side of her neck.

Gasping, Jesmyn circled her hips against him and ground into his cock as she panted his name in a plea. She brought a hand up to drape behind her, her fingers threading through the nape of Otto’s hair.

“Ahh, don't stop. Please—harder, fuck me harder!” Jesmyn cried, as he speared into her and made her into a quivering mess.

She felt him smirk against her skin. Otto released her hair, his large hands gripping her hips before increasing the speed of his thrusts. Jesmyn turned her head in Otto’s direction and wordlessly he captured her lips with his in a messy, hot kiss all the while driving his cock deep within her. Jesmyn’s lips parted, their tongues dancing and giving her a taste of her own arousal from when he feasted on her earlier.

The room was alive with sound of wet slaps and loud moans and groans as the lovers melded into each other, his shaft hitting her deepest parts like a battering ram.

“Yes, yes!'' Jesmyn breathed, throwing her head back, her breasts bouncing. ''I-I'm so—'

With a high, faltering cry, Jesmyn’s climax exploded through her, coming hard over his cock. Her folds contracted tightly around his pulsating member and immediately pushed him over the edge. Otto let out a roar, harshly bucking his hips into her and depositing himself deep inside of her with each powerful thrust.

Jesmyn could feel the thick, plentiful ropes of cum shoot inside of her, painting her insides white. Her walls milked him for every last drop of cum she could squeeze from him. Grunting harshly, he thrust into her with each and every last spurt, emptying himself. Doing his damnedest to make sure his seed took root. Then, he moaned in delight, his cock finally stopped spurting.

He pulled out with a gasp, the both of them collapsing down onto the bed, spent. Otto rolled off Jesmyn, laying next to her. Slowly, she could feel strings of his seed starting to leak out of her, no doubt dribbling onto the sheets beneath them. Wisps of hair were stuck to her face, and her cheeks were flushed with heat. Jesmyn’s legs shook from the aftershocks of her orgasm while her chest heaved, trying to catch her breath. Lazily, she turned her head in Otto’s direction still shuddering from his own climax, his hair wet with perspiration.

Taking a minute to recover, Jesmyn rolled over onto her side, she pressed soft, slow kisses onto her husband’s lips, one he gladly returned. Both of them still breathless from the coupling.

”Hmm...'' Jesmyn hummed, finally drawing back from the kiss and flashing a satisfied smile. ''Amazing as always, Husband,”

A small, proud grin formed on his mouth and he pulled her onto his chest planting his lips on her forehead. Idly, he ran his hands through her hair or down Jesmyn’s side, before resting on her rear and grabbing a handful of the flesh there. Her skin glowed in the light of the fireplace, moist and smooth. Jesmyn nuzzled her face onto his collarbone.

“Do you think I would be a good mother?” she wondered quietly.

Still partially lost in the afterglow of their coupling Otto had taken a few moments to respond. He cupped her face, tilting it upwards so they’re eyes would meet.

“You would be an excellent mother,” he corrected, pressing a lingering kiss onto the top of her head.

Chapter Nine: Most Wondrous News

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