Heat wave tanning salon

For context I'm 29M, about 6ft1 and have a bed size called a double/full. This thing is huge - whenever I'm sharing it with somebody I have to like swim over to them to interact with them during the night, when I'm sleeping by myself it's so big I start tilting diagonally because of all the space. When my area was hit with a heat wave a few years ago and the upstairs living room was too hot, 4 of my friends and I sat on it to watch a movie with snacks comfortably.
Despite all this, everybody insists I'm sleeping in a tiny little cot and that they couldn't bear to have anything that small (most people's absolute minimum is a queen it seems, although I have now met people who insist on a king!)
When my city flooded and I was evacuated I wound up spending 2-3 months living in hotels and all of them had king beds that were just unreasonably huge and felt impossible to sleep in because I kept tilting and spinning in all the space - even now I often get booked at hotels for my job and I request a queen room instead of a king and it's still obscenely big!
I guess I could go for a longer bed, but, the larger sizes only get wider, not longer. I'm currently shopping for a new bed & mattress and my preference is definitely for a full/double again but I'm seeing that all these furniture sites are categorizing that as a children's bed size.
What the heck is going on?

Sincerely
Ba-doh, ba-doh, ba-doh, ba-doh-ba
Sincerely, oh yes, sincerely
'Cause I love you so dearly, please say you'll be mine
-The Moonglows
Part I - The End
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. If I keep saying it maybe it will be true.
But it was happening. Tough times. Humpty Dumpty times. Out of gas in the desert with no bars times.
And, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse than a Tijuana root canal; she walked in. Out of the sweltering Mexican heat, into the dim bar, she came; the only thing standing between me and the blinding light. I heard a couple of gunshots somewhere in the distance.
I still remember how the sun illuminated my 2pm rise and shine, shit-faced full of no caffeine afternoon after, hair of the dog; tequila shot and beer. Like I said, tough times on the Ponderosa, Hoss.
Every time I think of that moment, I stand transfixed in time. Unable to move, frozen in-place tighter than a suckered kid’s tongue to a Chicago lamppost in a February ice storm. Maggie had long ago won my heart’s devotion only to betray both me, and it, in ways still inconceivable to my sauce pan of a brain.
So, a couple of months ago, my life in post-apocalyptic ruin, I did what any red-blooded American would do; I flew across the border to CDMX to drown my sorrows in tequila and cheap living. And now, incomprehensibly, here she was; back, again like the September monsoon. Had the bitch air tagged me?
It seemed with Maggie my heart’s devotion was not enough. Everything she wanted and received soon became a dull knife; just ain’t cutting. Mags had to have it all, all the time. And I thought she had gotten all of me and more. Who’d think she’d want to pick at the carcass? But inexplicably, there she was like my constant migraine, the one that never really left the base of my skull.
Without a word Mags swooped in close like she missed me and now hadda kiss me.
Then, quicker than lightning showing off, she plunged her delicate-boned hand deep into my chest. She then removed it with even greater alacrity holding it high above her jet-black mane. She waved it for all the bar to see, my still beating corazón in it, color-coordinating against it’s will with her manicure, making what looked like vague Italian gestures.
Nobody in the bar paid us any mind.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t help but avert my horrified gaze into my now exposed chest cavity, only to witness darkness within darkness gazing back at me.
“Heyyyyyy,” a voiceless voice greeted and saluted.
I looked up at Maggie. She took the seat opposite mine. Then reaching over with her free hand commandeered my tequila and knocked it back quick. Her encore was to grab my beer and drain it with all the mud she could muster into my eye. Then, with a satisfied look she dropped the now emptied bottle on the wooden table hard enough to make a thud.
Maggie then met my stare. My cardia beating peripatetically in her freshly manicured right-hand she made an elaborate shrug, her face smug as a tyrant’s fart.
I remembered wondering what the fuck was keeping my cardio so vascular. It sure as fuck wasn’t clean living. Then, that voiceless voice had yet more to say.
“Now what, Spenser?” it asked.
Now, it was now my turn to shrug. Surprisingly, despite being a now certifiably heartless son of a bitch, I, too, had something to say. So, I said it.
“You’re fucking diabolical, Maggie.”
My words of judgment echoed clear, permeating deep into the abyss, then back again at Maggie. She caught my words easier than a kitten catches smiles. She just shrugged again. It was starting to get annoying.
“You ruined me,” I added just to be doing something.
The shrug undulated down from her tan and toned shoulder through her arm, finally coming to a full stop at her finger’s tips.
Waving my heart at me with more vague Italian gestures Mags asked, “How can you be so sure, Spenser?”
Part II – The Middle
Sincerely, oh you know how I love you
I'll do anything for you, please say you'll be mine
...
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. My new mantra wasn’t working.
Six months ago, I thought Maggie was the answer to my dreams.
Swooping down like an angel to shower me with attention and affection. Dinners with wine. Hot sex. More hot sex. No strings attached. Getting to know you pillow talk.
Now, there’s one thing I need to add. I met her through a dating app but as it turned out we both worked for the same nonprofit. We didn’t know each other as it’s a fairly big company but it turned out I supported the code for both her projects. This turned out to be one of many coincidences.
We both hated our jobs. We both liked writing short stories but never could sell a thing despite writing dozens and dozens. We both could dance salsa, on 1 and 2 and loved to hablar en español que no era muy guapo.
We both wanted to run away to Mexico city and live the Bohemian life.
Coincidences like we both grew up in NYC and had issues with our respective families of origin. And while she was Chinese-American and I was Russian-American both our fathers were born in the same year and were obsessed with Woody Allen. We both had much younger siblings we didn’t speak to.
Yeah, we had both grown up with weak fathers and selfish narcissistic mothers in common. And worser still, we had both experienced unstable living situations in high school. In my case, I was kicked out of the house for smoking weed.
In Maggie’s case, I never really was sure what went down but the best I could get out of her was at 13 she got pissed at her mom for cheating on her dad and left the house with nowhere to go. She ended up with family friends or relatives but the details were always murky and I was not the nosey type.
Her words to me were, “My mother’s emotional IQ is low. I raised myself.”
Impressively, she had made it through the Ivy League and seemed to be someone down to earth I could spend time with. But truth be told from the minute I saw her profile picture I was hotter than a Texas chili sprout for her.
It was some kind of primal attraction I thought I was long past entertaining. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t love. It was like the thought of coming home to a family I never knew I had or that even could exist.
This shit made old me feel like young me again. But, as oft is the case in life, there was a problem. I was old, broke and probably about to lose my job. I was in IT and I was having problems with my manager being a psychopath; for reals.
It wasn’t mere conjecture as he had a reputation of getting people fired, or worse, making their lives so miserable they would quit; even with no prospects. I had been the focus of his sabotaging efforts and it had been having a bad effect on my mental and physical well-being.
This had taken a turn for the worse and I was catching a lot of passive aggressive hostility on the project Maggie supported.
Anyway, she was the bright spot in my otherwise mostly solitary and emotionally bleak life. And she lived nearby. She had an ex and kids and shared custody but I never met them and she didn’t really talk much about it except to say once, “You should need a license to have kids.”
I never had quite known what to make of some of the things she said, but like I said, I was under her spell. And I liked it.
And the icing on top? I had a dominant kinky side and that was a fire Maggie poured gasoline on every chance she got. She was worse than an arsonist in Underoo Town.
One weird thing about Mags was her knitting habit. If we weren’t fucking or eating she was knitting. Even at restaurants and bars.
One day in November, with the sun golden in a sky so blue you thought you could touch it I asked, “What are you knitting?”
Maggie gave me a wry look. She got out of her chair and seemed to be examining my bald head which I had shaved just that morning.
“A hat,” she replied.
But as the holidays rolled around things started to change. One Sunday morning as we were having coffee Maggie looked around the crowded steamy café.
“Everybody’s hooking up for the holidays,” she remarked.
I didn’t really know what to do with that one so I let it be.
But as the days went on there was a change in the weather. Fewer texts. Less sex. Maggie going out of town to some vague destination. Sending me sexy pictures of herself in Santa outfits after I caught the flu during Christmas.
A few days after Christmas I got a text late one night.
“Is it okay if I come by?”
“Very okay,” was my reply.
Maggie showed up with chocolate, red wine and the hat she had been knitting. Orange Afghani wool softer than a golden retriever’s fur. She put the hat on my head and then removed all my clothes.
“Let’s celebrate Christmas, Spenser.”
And, we did.
When we were done and lying head-to-head, I said, “I love my hat.”
Maggie said, “I made it especially for you. No matter what, don’t lose it.”
It was another one of those weird Maggie things she said, like, “I used to shoplift,” and shit like that.
I nodded.
“Promise me you’ll hold on to your hat, Spenser.”
“I promise.”
Maggie observed my face, then nodded as if confirming something to herself.
“Okay.”
Then we did that thing again.
That was the pinnacle. Things quickly went downhill for no reason I could discern. Texts unanswered and when answered; kind of abrupt-like. Being unavailable. Stuff with her kids. Time away in Connecticut for some vague reason. After that I began feeling like the weakest card in a gambler’s hand.
But Maggie kept shoe horning me in at odd times, giving me just enough crumbs to keep me on the hook. And as we rode the roller coaster down everything always seemed to center around alcohol. And sex. More and more debauched sex. Finally, by New Year’s Eve things were getting straight-up weird no chaser.
“You know that thing we talked about?”
By her tone I knew what she meant. I nodded cautiously.
“You want to try it?”
Maggie dropped a smile on me that would have had the serpent in the garden applying for unemployment.
“Yes,” she said.
So, we did.
I thought I had been imagining things. I thought we were back at the pinnacle. I could feel the love drug course through my veins. Things couldn’t be better. Or, so I thought.
Oh Lord, won't you tell me why
I love that girlie so
The Following Monday
The next Monday I was called into what turned out to be the most fucking bizarre moment of my fifty-eight years on this planet; and I’ve had some bizarre fucking moments growing up in south Brooklyn in the 1970’s; believe you me.
The company’s CIO, compliance officer, head of legal, head of HR and my evil manager, Conte Rugen were all in attendance, cameras ROLLING.
It appears I was being dismissed after 8 years loyal service for sexual assault, extortion, harassment, hate speech, insults to farm animals and every fucking other offense against God and man one could commit in these holiest of holy United States of America.
And just who had I… who had I.. victimized? Who had I preyed upon? Harassed? Gone full nutso on?
Maggie.
They had the goods. Recordings. Video. Ropes. Whips. Chains. Bad Spanglish. Maggie screaming, “No, papi! No!!!!”
I believe I was, what is known in legal parlance as, summarily fucked.
Nobody wanted to hear my side. How things were taken out of context. Things we had mutually consented to out of exciting and bonding trust and exploration.
“Did I have consent agreement?” I parroted back in shock to the head of legal.
“Did you get one when you fucked your mother in the ass before she shat you out?” I added just to keep my mouth from puking.
I was in bombshell shock. Maggie was my angel. Our situationship was supposed to be fucking healing from our abused childhoods and here I am now some kind of Tarantinoesque, Mr. Fucking Rapist? And my fucking manager once bragging about throwing a cat out a window when he was a juvenile delinquent?!?
There would be charges pressed. I would need an attorney. I might be arrested.
And it all happened faster than you can say, “Blue Monday, How I hate Blue Monday”.
And then Maggie sued the company. Take no fucking prisoners, Maggie. Disco-fucking-inferno burn that mother down we don’t need no water let the motherfucker burn Maggie. I wondered if her ex had been left on food stamps after the divorce.
A few months and my life savings and retirement account after that the criminal case got pleaded down to misdemeanor assault and I was able to arbitrate with my employer and Maggie’s lawyer leaving me with some clothes, my passport and precisely enough plastic to fly into the sweltering Mexican heat. So, fly into it I did.
Part III – The Beginning
Sincerely, oh you know how I love you
I'll do anything for you, please say you'll be mine
Oh Lord, won't you tell me why
I love that girlie so
She doesn't want me
But I'll never never never never let her go
...
“I wish you’d stop waving that thing at me,” I said gesturing at my heart with my chin.
“You’re still upset,” Maggie said. It wasn’t a question.
“You fucking abused me. You fucking eviscerated me. Yeah, you could say I’m a little perturbed.”
“But you’re still wearing the hat,” she said smiling.
“It’s a bad ass hat,” I said. It was after all. Why cut off your nose to spite your face?
“I put a lot of time and thought into it,” she said. My heart continued to beat in her hand.
...
Oh Lord, won't you tell me why
I love that girlie so
She doesn't want me
But I'll never never never never let her go
...
“Look,” she said waving my heart at me.
“I really wish you wouldn’t wave that around like that.”
The voice in the abyss in my chest spoke. It said, “Wait for it.”
Maggie said, “Spenser, you poor fucking sap. You hate your fucking job. You try to do the right fucking thing and speak up and you get kicked around like a dog. You try to love hard and you get beat up and left in an alley. You try to write books and start businesses and you end up bankrupt or dead.
And now look at you! You don’t have a care in the fucking world. You don’t have a shitty job. You are in beautiful Mexico City with the girl of your dreams. You say your heart was hardened? Well, I say it feels pretty fucking soft and sweet to me. Like the hat I knitted you. With the pom pom. And you know what?”
“What?” I heard myself murmur?
The abyss in my chest said, “Yeah, what?”
“Well, one the fucking pom pom has a beacon so I knew where you were the whole fucking time you sap. So I can tell you this true. And I will. So here I am in fucking Mexico sweating my tits off. And I am telling you this," she said nodding at my cardio, "is a very good heart. And I am putting it back where it belongs.
There is nothing wrong with it and now nobody can hurt it again. And if you want to write a book now you have something, and someone,” she added with a wry smile, “to write about.”
Then lightning quick Maggie put it back in my chest and removing her hand made a quick flourish gesturing for the waitress.
“Botella de tequila, por favor!”
I looked down at my chest. Everything seemed to be the way it had been before she ripped out my heart. Only different.
I was about to speak. Maggie raised a hand.
The waitress appeared like a wraith and put down a bottle of Don Julio and two fresh shot glasses and two cold ones.
Maggie poured two shots and pushed one at me with the hand that had been holding my cardio captive. She then fished around in her pocket and found her phone.
“What the fuck, right," that's what your thinking, Spenser. Yeah, what the fuck is right. Look at this baby boy,” she said and then pushed her phone next to the shot glass.
I was looking at what appeared to be a bank balance that appeared ready, willing and able to face fuck an extraordinarily tall giraffe. I felt the migraine disappear like a bad dream.
Maggie gave me a wry smile.
She pushed the shot glass closer to me and picked hers up. I felt my elbow bending. It felt okay.
She tilted her shot at me and said, "Here's looking at you, kid," and took the shot. I drank mine.
We put our glasses down.
“You can negotiate anything," she said, then added, "sincerely.”
And then, then she kissed me.
Oh say you'll be mine
Oo-eee, oo-eee-oo, ooi-ooi-ooo
Sincerely

So we recently got a heat wave up in North East USA (90F days) and I noticed the coolant temp on my 2010 Legacy 2.5GT reached 233 whilst sitting at lights and would hover around 210-220 during normal driving. My coolant reservoir is overfilled at the moment so I'm thinking about purging air from the system and seeing if that does anything. I was wondering what the normal operating range was for these cars.

Weather's been really hot. Fancy some icy cocktails, cold beer, and refreshing sodas?
This is a completely new bar-hopping route. Each stop is literally just a minute away from each other so well within stumbling distance even with the heat wave we are experiencing. There will be beer, wine, spirits, soft drinks, and food sold at all the locations. Also cheap eats and street food in the area for the hungry people.
Taking advantage of the happy hour, we start at:
7:30pm at underpass G/F, 18 Tsing Fung St, Tin Hau
9:00pm we go across the street to Hong Kong Island Taphouse 1a, 1b Tsing Fung Street Flyover, Causeway Bay
10:30pm at Drunkerland Shop B G/F, 27 Ngan Mok St, Tin Hau
Finish at around midnight or so at Ares (optional) G/F, 11 Lau Li St, Causeway Bay They have dart boards. Those who are keen can drink and throw darts at each other til late.
As per usual we will be wearing Reddit t-shirts, with a Snoo stuffed toy so we would be easy to spot.
Everyone including myself will be paying for their own drinks.
See you there!
meetup post

TLDR: story time about how my hair got damaged due to my mom’s negligence to my natural hair and how Im slowly trying to progress to going natural.
So my mom is very narcissistic I can’t even say controlling atp. She’s very afraid of me looking like a guy in any sense. Me personally idgaf about my gender representation as long as I'm happy. But she refuses to let me take care of my hair because of it among other reasons. My mother had stated since we were young she hated doing our hair and got herself locs for the reason she can’t do hers. To be honest I’m glad she stopped because she would threaten to cut our hair when she got tired or to lock it because she didn’t want to do it.
I honestly think its rooted in jealousy because she tells me when I asked her once to just loc my hair she said try all the styles out there before you decide. But then goes to tell me I have no right to do anything with my hair like make up your mind.
So, I got my hair straightened a lot as a kid. But add on getting relaxer at some point without my consent at the hairdressers 🙂. Probably aware of the result but as I got into high school I didn’t realize how bad it was. I got comments from my friends even that my hair was even dry and brittle in its straight state. It was (still kind of is) so frayed at the ends and super dense and not moisturized it feels and looks awful in its natural state. That caused a wave of insecurities when I realized, unlike my other black peers I was going through it with my hair.
Tbh it was probably hurtful at the time but I’m thankful my friends informed me because my hair would be in a horrible state right now. I'm almost 16 and feel like I need to be able to do things with my hair if my mom doesn’t even want to bother. She already complains about getting my hair straightened, complained about my hair getting braided, and now complained about me trying to cut it so I can have healthy hair.
I started to get braids because I was like until my hair grows out or I cut it I'm not going to straighten it anymore. So I get braids a couple of times and my hair got better I got a silk press at a black-owned salon rather than the one in my home town which probably should’ve never been an option. They managed to maintain my hair and not make it worse and even my sisters did as well. But still, the hometown salon had already done so much damage to our hair that when if we went anywhere else there wouldn’t be much change.
So about 2-3 months ago got my hair braided by a family friend so she cut my hair because she has years of experience doing hair and trims and styles natural hair all the time. She trimmed it and cut a good bit because, for the life of me, I couldn’t stand the pain from the brittleness and drynesses and my very sensitive scalp.
So when I told my mom she was like “wtf omg your hair never going to grow back and when it doesn’t I'm going to laugh at you” or “Your hair was long the straight pieces are just normal”. The only reason my hair wasn’t growing back was that her neglectful self never wanted to do my hair or teach me. Plus she never even bought the supplies to style our hair as a kid maybe some moisturizer to style it.
If my dog gets his hair done more than mine there's a problem. But she pretty much manipulated me to feel bad about my choice of hair and my health.
So she then apologizes. Then a month later when I take my hair out she ask me again what I want to do with my hair I tell her I want it cut. She goes on and tells me just grow it out and I'm not gonna pay money to get your hair braided if you keep cutting your hair. ( she doesn’t pay shit to get my hair done lmao my dad pays).
One reason she didn’t want my hair natural was that I have eczema and it affects my head so build-up will occur. Like ok, then I’ll wash it? My hair is dry makes it even worse. But she also wouldn’t buy many things for my 4b-4c hair because my sister needed it and because her hair was more manageable because it was less costly with looser curls. I think she honestly hates my hair because she talks about my dad's hair and my sisters and praises it like it's the best hair texture ever and mine is no comment.
Now flash forward to this week I go to my Aunt and she has lots to do. So she graciously offered to style my hair and I said yes. She essentially told me as well to cut my hair. if multiple people are telling me to cut my hair there is something wrong. I mean I think short hair is really cute and nothing is wrong with it,but she just seems to think black fem people can’t have short hair without looking masculine🤷🏾.
Thankfully she gave me some information on how to fix it because I looked fucking goofy before that. Also how to wash it in general because all I had was just shampoo and conditioner under my sink nothing else ☠️. Thankfully my dad said he was going to go to the store once we got back home so if you guys have any tips on what to buy that would be great 🫶🏾. Or any other advice as well.

pokepaste is deatj so I'll just be spamming with the full team paste here sorry but not much I can do (more below)
IT'S ME (Ursaluna) @ Flame Orb
Ability: Guts
Tera Type: Ghost
EVs: 240 HP / 252 Atk / 16 Spe
Adamant Nature
- Swords Dance
- Facade
- Earthquake
- Fire Punch
​
Chica (Zapdos) @ Leftovers
Ability: Static
Tera Type: Ghost
EVs: 248 HP / 4 Def / 76 SpA / 4 SpD / 176 Spe
Timid Nature
IVs: 0 Atk
- Heat Wave
- Thunderbolt
- Volt Switch
- Roost
​
Freddy (Urshifu-Rapid-Strike) @ Punching Glove
Ability: Unseen Fist
Tera Type: Ghost
EVs: 252 Atk / 4 Def / 252 Spe
Jolly Nature
- Swords Dance
- Surging Strikes
- Close Combat
- Taunt
​
Foxy (Zoroark-Hisui) @ Choice Specs
Ability: Illusion
Tera Type: Ghost
EVs: 252 SpA / 4 SpD / 252 Spe
Timid Nature
IVs: 0 Atk
- Shadow Ball
- Grass Knot
- Flamethrower
- Trick
​
Bonnie (Cinderace) @ Heavy-Duty Boots
Ability: Libero
Tera Type: Ghost
EVs: 252 Atk / 4 SpD / 252 Spe
Jolly Nature
- Pyro Ball
- U-turn
- Sucker Punch
- High Jump Kick
​
Purple Guy (Great Tusk) @ Rocky Helmet
Ability: Protosynthesis
Tera Type: Ghost
EVs: 252 HP / 112 Atk / 144 Def
Impish Nature
- Stealth Rock
- Rapid Spin
- Earthquake
- Knock Off
​
Unironically been having fun with this team on an alt, tera ghost was a theme decision but there are worse types to mono tera on a team with horoark and cocaine bear. I'm actually considering moving zappy to quiet bulky so it can slow volt switch into the fast boys and tank more.
​
I actually have two replays, I had one forfeit early and one time where i got gearna'd not shown so far.
https://replay.pokemonshowdown.com/gen9ou-1877256936
https://replay.pokemonshowdown.com/gen9ou-1877262506-9qgxl886digd79tjewxg5jnpx1jgqaspw game two is a wild ride, watch to the end for an emotional climax.
this could have been teambuilding or discussion but meh its funni day, but uniroically does anyone have tips for the team? I'm open to any mon who fits the name theme, or replacing tusk with a ghost type named Puppet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Grafton fleet arrived off the coast of Dorne. It was an admittedly challenging trip, with whirlpools and rocky coastline that put the small ships slightly further out from the peninsula than they had desired. The sheer cliffs offered little purchase for landing, which may have posed a bigger problem for any would-be invaders.
Not that that was a great problem for the Dornish, really. How far south was their closest neighbor?
The mouth of the Torrentine was much calmer than the choppier rapids and waterfalls further upstream, where the Dayne's ancestral seat of High Hermitage had been surrounded by much bedlam.
The ship anchored, and Joffrey arranged passage by a boat to the shoreline. He had battled seasickness, and his anxiety from being near the Stepstones surely did not help. It was the second time in his life he'd been this far south, and he would be happier if it was the last.
The boat found a place to land along the calmer part of the shoreline, where the Arryn siblings and their small retinue of Knights of the Narrow Sea were greeted with sun-kissed bleached white sand. The heat of this land was imminently apparent.
"Starfall is a short hike North of here." Joffrey consulted some maps. "Let's be done with it."
The walk had not been too treacherous. They stopped to drink from tributaries flowing into the Torrentine.
"What kind of man is Arthur Dayne, anyway?" His companions mused.
"Young. His father was killed by brigands." Another answered.
Then he will find solace in the arms of Jonquil, Joffrey thought while washing his face. Or the Reach will have to do. We must not return empty handed.
At last the party arrived at Starfall. Making his way to the gates he waved. His face had long turned red under the Dornish sun's glare, and he desired nothing more than a bath.
"Hail to you!" Joffrey announced, his voice hoarse. "I am Ser Joffrey Arryn, Knight of the Blue Stripes. This is my sister, Lady Jonquil Arryn. We are here for an audience with your Lord, Arthur Dayne, on behalf of the Defender of the Vale, my brother Eon Arryn."

July night ball: heat lingering in the Fenway bleachers after a day baking in the sun, lights twinkling, Verdugo on first, 2 outs, Yoshida with a 3-1 count. Will he swing?
The Yankees are in town, and chants erupt yet again to “F the Yankees!” For once, the chant matches up with the opponent. Masa takes a few practice sweeps, staring down Nestor Cortes. The pitcher comes set.
Judge dinks around in right, breathing out of his mouth and wondering if he’ll ever learn to tie his shoelaces. A cheer goes up behind him, ladies shrieking and men howling—Aaron’s used to the commotion.
He’s thinking about how much he likes having so many fans who are so nice to him when a BU bro in a Hernandez jersey leaps the fence, vaults onto Judge’s back, and sinks his teeth into his prey’s shoulder. He tears flesh with a wild, deranged look in his eye.
At the same time, around this park that has seen so much, bedlam erupts. Something surges through the crowd, like the Wave but more insidious in nature: a disease that causes the afflicted to become mindless undead fiends, thirsting for the blood of humans.
A Yankees fan leaps into the Yankees dugout and tackles Aaron Boone, from whom a geyser of blood erupts.
But as the scene unfolds, we quickly see the meaning of Boston Strong. Kiké does a series of flying handsprings towards an usher in a red polo, culminating in a headlock between his thighs and a snapped neck. Triston Casas pulls a handgun out of his bag and starts picking off the undead, a perfect shot. Dave O’Brien is bitten by Tim Wakefield; Youk grabs him by the shoulders and throws him out the open window of the broadcast booth, plummeting to the roiling crowd below. The cameras catch the 89-year-old grandmother with 30 grandkids all from Boston who delivered the opening pitch bite the face off tonight’s guest Fred Lynn behind home plate.
Chaim Bloom and David Ortiz vault from the box where they were eating caviar, plummeting to the seats below and executing perfect landings. They each grab the nearest zombie by the head and smash them together. Big Papi rips a seat from the concrete, and wades into the crowd, slamming gnashing heads with the business end of the seat and shouting “Here I come! I’m in the Hall of Fame!”
Devers grabs a bat in each hand, and begins whipping them in circles. Like two helicopter propellers, they whirl faster than the eye can see as Raffy steps towards the stands, eyeing the nearest zombie. Bat meets skull: base hit!
Justin Turner looks up from the tablet where he had been studying his last at bat, takes in the scene, and slowly steps up to the field. His forearms and shins lift upwards, before sliding smartly back, revealing metal and chrome and Kevlar panels beneath. From his right forearm emerges a giant laser blaster; from his left, a chandelier of long needles. His limbs extend, as he turns into a hulking machine of war. Chaim Bloom jumps onto his shoulder and shouts “Go!”
Turner marks the turning point in the assault, the moment it went from a zombie attack to a proper Red Sox rout. Too many hits to count as Turner levels the throngs of undead with laser beams. The bodies pile higher as Masa roundhouse kicks zombie after zombie. Devers hits a home run out of the park with the head of a hot dog vendor like a tee-ball at-bat.
Two and a half hours: longer than the game would have been with the pitch clock, all to clean up the mess and ferret out every last zombie. A sweep by the Sox. As the team regroups among the mounds of bodies, Cora looks each man in the eye in turn. “Looks like baseball season has just begun.”

hello, i did Hollywood waves in a salon for a night occasion, it is in net but i need to ablute to pray, which involves wiping the front of the hair with water, will it ruin it so bad or can i get away with it?