#but I still put a lot of effort into this one

[uncookedfeeler]

CITRUS I🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 4k, light smut, incest,

Part 2??

Parenting is one of life's most transformative experiences. It is a journey filled with joy, growth, challenges and the commitment to raise and guide another human being. From the moment a child is born into the world, parents find themselves on a rollercoaster ride of endless new experiences, emotional highs and lows, and unwavering love.

Parents are caregivers, teachers and coaches, constantly trying to decipher their child's needs and feelings. While the joys of parenting are many, the challenges can be daunting. From sleepless nights with a newborn to the complexities of teenage rebellion, each stage of a child's development brings its own set of hurdles.

After more than fifty years on this planet, half of them with your wife, you're lucky enough to have a 20-year-old girl as your child. From day one she has been the ray of sunshine that lights up your life. She is the person you love most and will remain your most precious treasure until your last breath. But your relationship has changed a lot over the years. Your little princess has gone from being Daddy's little girl to a gorgeous woman who has been driving a wedge between you since she was a teenager. 

This distance has increased since she became a famous idol and now lives between the dormitory and your house, although she only stays when she wants to. 

As usual, you come home from work late in the evening and enter the lock code to get into your house. Unlike before, the lights are still out and the house is deserted. You leave your keys on the hall stand and walk into the living room, closing the SAS door behind you.

You sigh as you walk through the living room to your bedroom, the room a bit messy with some of your dirty clothes from the night before still on the tripod, you sit down on your bed to remove your tie and finally free your neck, your suit disappears and you put on more relaxed clothes. At the same time, your phone rings and you see the name of one of your colleagues on the display:

"Sorry to call so late, hope I'm not disturbing you?" says a soft voice at the other end of the line.

"Not at all, Mrs Bae, I just got home, what can I do for you?" you reply, laughing.

"The CEO wants to see you in his office tomorrow, he came by earlier but you already left, he said he wants to talk about the last contract you secured". 

"Ahahah, the old man already knows it seems, ok ok, noted I'll meet him tomorrow, have a good night Ms.Bae".

"You too, Director"

You put your phone on the bed before returning to the kitchen to prepare your meal and pour yourself a well-deserved beer. With your face still in the fridge, you hear the front door open and a familiar voice echo through the room with a simple "I'm home, I'm tired! "

You immediately know who it is and reply, "Welcome my darling, good to see you home, how was your day, are you hungry?"

Without answering, you see a young woman with red hair jumping onto the sofa. 

"Yuna, please take off your shoes before entering the house, and at least take off your jacket, it's quite warm in the house," you begin to reproach your only child.

"Daddy, please don't start, I've already lost my mind today with the girls, leave me alone!" the young woman cries in obvious annoyance.

The routine is back and you make the effort to take off her shoes while she is lying on her stomach on the sofa, you notice her outfit for the day, a black leather jacket hiding a nice white t-shirt and beige trousers, so you take the opportunity to complicate your princess. 

"That's a nice outfit, darling."

"Thank you," she replies, blushing.

You put the shoes down in the hallway next to yours and see her already absorbed in her phone, so you try to get the conversation going again:

"What happened to make my little Yuna so upset?" you say.

"I'm not 13 anymore, Dad, you can call me by my first name".

"Ah ah, sorry, Yuna".

"Those bitches stole my concept for the shoot, we had to choose a fruit and we had matching colour outfits, during the pre-shoot meeting we agreed and as luck would have it today they used their "maknae shoot last" rule and took my fruit!!! "

"Please don't shout, so what happened after that?" you try to calm her down.

"What do you think, I got to the shoot and all that was left were shitty concepts, seriously, who the fuck thinks it's sexy to have a lemon in the middle of a t-shirt, they're going to laugh so hard at me for the pictures, I'm so ashamed, I left right after the shoot," she says as she stands up and faces you.

You can see the sadness in her eyes and you want to hug her and tell her that everything will be fine, but now that she's looking at you, you realise that she probably forgot to take off the famous shirt and with great regret you put a big smile on your face, almost on the verge of tears.

"No, darling, I'm sure it's a great shirt," you reply with difficulty.

"PAPA!!!, WHY ARE YOU SNIGGERING?" the young idol cries before following your eyes to her T-shirt, her face falling as she finally realises the reason, you're so sorry, but the situation is really too funny.

As you wipe your eyes you see your princess's blood red eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks and she slaps you hard in the face "I FUCKING HATE YOU, JUST FUCKING DIE YOU AND MOM" before running into her room, 

For the second time in your life you feel that pain, the pain you feel when you hurt someone you love, just like your wife did 7 years ago. 

The pain on your cheek is almost non-existent, unlike the pain in your heart. You admit that Yuna has become very withdrawn since your wife's departure, and that your clumsiness with her has hurt her before, but never to this extent.

On the one hand, your authority has been challenged once again, and for the first time she's dared to raise a hand to you. On the other hand, there is a deep sadness that hurts you, but also makes you deeply regret your actions.

You hear your daughter's cries through the door and, with a feeble step, you knock on the door before entering.

"Baby....i'm so sorry" you see her lying on her bed, her head in her pillow, her crying stops when she raises her head and looks at you, her face is turned upside down, her make-up has run down her face. Seeing your child like that tears your heart out, even though you're responsible.

"Just go, just go like Mum, you don't even like me, do you? I'm ashamed of you, go and die," she said in a cold, mean tone.

"Baby... "Hearing these words from your little princess hurts and brings tears to your eyes, so you get down on your knees to continue your apology.

"Forgive me," you tell her as your tears begin to fall, Yuna continues to reject you and her words only drive nails into your feelings, you've surely done the irreparable and you decide to get up and leave her room.

You have ruined your last family relationship with the person who meant the most to you. 

"I'll bring you dinner later, just rest," you say in an emotionless tone as you grab the door handle to leave.

Your steps towards the living room are slow and your body heavy, only to suddenly hear someone running behind you, the door slamming against the wall, and feel your sweet daughter's body against your back as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

"PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME SORRY," the red one cries with all her hot tears.

You drop to your knees and take your only child in your arms and hold her close, her head is under your chin as she buries herself in your neck, you stroke her head with one hand while the other pats her back, her arms struggle to wrap around your waist but she clings tightly to you.

"I'm sorry darling, I'm sorry for everything, just let it go now, Daddy's here, I won't leave you, ever"

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I love you"

"I love you too, sweetheart"

You stay like this for many minutes before you plant a loving kiss on her forehead, a sign of your unconditional love for her. She's your treasure and the most important woman in your life.

Yuna's red eyes shine into yours and the young idol plants her lips on yours, the sensation is sweet and pleasant, you are morally in a dilemma, never in a million years would you have imagined kissing your daughter like this, but on the other hand you tell yourself that she's probably had too much rejection for today and is just trying to express her love for me. 

You allow your daughter to express her desires and she wraps her arms around your neck as you hold her kiss, her tongue meets yours in a first dance, the heat in the corridor rises as her body crashes against yours, you feel her small breasts against your chest and her perfume floods your nostrils.

"Yu..na," you try to stop her, tapping her shoulder as she literally tries to eat your lips.

The young idol slowly pulls back, leaving a trickle of drool between your two mouths. You see an incredibly sexy woman, her hair a mess, her breathing heavy and hot, her hands on your chest burning and her eyes devouring you like a hungry tigress.

"The redhead doesn't know what to say when she realises what she's done, her face turning scarlet as she rests her forehead on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault, are you tired?

She nods as you carry her to her room and tuck her into bed, one last kiss before sending your little princess off to dreamland.

"Good night, baby," you say to her as she seems to have gone far away.

.

.

.

The night was harder than expected, and after a light dinner you went to bed with your head still full of the events of the evening, a flurry of emotions running through your body and mind, and faster than you could have imagined, the morning light appeared through your window.

It's almost 7am and you're getting ready for a long day. As soon as you wake up, your body starts to show its age and it takes you a long time to get dressed and get out of your room and into the kitchen. You decide on a quick, simple breakfast of fried egg and rice, and with this morning's appointment, you'll be ready to go in no time, having filled up on vitamins for the day despite your fatigue. As you prepare this, you hear Yuna's bedroom door open and see your daughter come into the kitchen, still wearing her white T-shirt, but her beige trousers have been replaced by blue shorts.

"Morning dad," she says shyly.

"Hi honey, no schedule today?"

"Not this morning," she replies quickly, shaking her head.

Neither of you seem comfortable with the conversation and you do your best to avoid meeting her gaze and vice versa. You discreetly exchange glances and smiles, the redhead in front of you is beautiful and you find yourself ogling her.

You continue to prepare breakfast, making sure you have enough for your daughter. The only exchange you've had since is asking her if she wants a coffee, which she refuses. You see her hovering around the table as if she wants to talk, then she finally gets up and goes behind your back to the fridge.

Then you look back over your shoulder, feel Yuna's embrace around your waist as she buries her face in your back, feel the warmth of her breath again and put your hands on hers.

"Are you all right, darling?"

"I'm sorry dad, my head has been on fire since yesterday, my body has been on fire since I saw you this morning, I just wanted to tell you that I love you very much," she answers as she places kisses on your spine.

You feel the tenderness of her lips on your skin as Yuna gently lifts your work shirt, you say nothing, letting your daughter express her feelings as Yuna's gentle attacks send electric shocks down your back.

"Please look at me," she says as she forces you to turn around, pulling you by your hips until your bottom is resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, face to face with your daughter, who is staring at you for the first time this morning.

Her eyes were trembling and she asked you in a soft, frightened voice: "Tell me you love me, Daddy", while she pressed her body against yours. You felt her soft breasts against your chest and she put her hands on the back of your neck. Your daughter brings her lips to yours, her eyes closed, waiting for you to confirm your feelings.

At this point your morality as a father is the only obstacle standing in the way of this relationship, your daughter may not realise it but it is an immoral relationship waiting to happen, your daughter is still looking for a way to fill the hole in her heart, the love of her members doesn't seem to be working for her and now she is relying on you, her father, to give her what she needs, it is a difficult choice but you are letting yourself be swallowed by the devil, your daughter's happiness is what matters.

You cupped her cheek with one hand before pressing your lips to hers as Yuna melted under the pressure of her emotions, you rediscovered the sensation of love and laid your daughter on the counter while maintaining the kiss.

Your daughter is now sitting on the worktop, the difference in height bringing her face level with yours, she grabs the back of your hair to pull you towards her, her legs wrapped around your hips, your lips still locked as your tongues meet again.

When the seal is finally broken, both your breaths are heavy and noisy, each under the hypnosis of its own pleasure, while your eyes are full of sparkles and plunge into each other's. Your princess's eyes shed small tears, which you hastily wipe away with your finger before giving her a long kiss on the forehead.

Daddy, my heart is going to explode,' she says as she takes your hand to her breast with her t-shirt, the feeling is even better than you had imagined, her small breasts are firm and pleasant to touch, as you gently knead her breasts, the young woman makes little moans that express the pleasure she is receiving.

"Yuna... do you like what Daddy is doing?"

She nods "I want to feel your hand on my skin," she replies as she takes both your hands and places them under her t-shirt, right on her breasts.

"Do you like my lemons daddy? squeeze them hard please" Yuna's sexy face and her words echo in your brain as your hands work on her juicy fruit.

The tension in the room rises and you place your mouth on her little lemon, which you have been kneading for a few minutes, you attack her nipple with your tongue while you suck, hoping to suck something, you alternate your hands, now covered with little red spots, your daughter moans with pleasure and prevents you from withdrawing.

"Daddy, suck on them, play with my little lemons that you love so much, they're yours".

All this excitement had made you hot and a knot had formed in your trousers. Your lips left her two Susson-marked mounds and now attacked her defenceless neck, licking it from bottom to top, following her carotid artery and planting long kisses under her jaw, making her tremble before she gently pushed you away.

"Dad, let me take care of you too, I've been feeling your lump on my leg for a while now".

Your daughter begins to unbuckle your belt, then your trousers, until she can finally see your underpants and cock. Then your daughter puts her hand on the front of your briefs to rub your cock, and you see her other hand go down her shorts, probably to check the state of her briefs.

"I'm soaking wet, keep playing with my tits and come and touch me down there while I take care of you".

Your daughter's hand reaches through your shorts and grabs your cock to stroke it gently, on your side you slide one of your hands up her thigh to her panties and rub her slit directly against her skin, she's wet and you can feel a small bush above her entrance, you wiggle your fingers up and down, taking the opportunity to go back and kiss your princess who moans at your actions.

Yuna's technique isn't the best, but who can blame her, the poor thing is fighting against her own body and the way she arched her back as you delicately knocked on her pussy door, freeing her lips from your kiss, the young idol expressed with volume what she was feeling,

♥Hmm....♥Ah....Papa, continue ♥Hmm, ah....♥

Your daughter's moans are like music to your ears and she quickly lets you know that her orgasm is coming as your fingers begin to penetrate her pussy from the inside, you feel little spasms running down her body and her pussy dripping with wetness, as you pull your fingers out you see the deception in her eyes before devouring her with your mouth, forcing her to let go of your cock in the process. 

Your cock is extremely hard after Yuna's work but your pleasure is not your priority as your tongue slides up and down your daughter's slit, her juices are delicious and you suck them in to capture the taste of her naughty hole in your memory. Her grip on your thin hair is powerful and she blocks your head with her legs as you finally hear the release.

"Daddy, I'm going to come, it's happening, da..." before she can finish her own sentence, stopped by her pleasure, Yuna comes all over your now wet face and falls onto her back on the worktop.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" you ask her, a little worried as she suddenly falls backwards, the pressure of her legs freeing you and you see a close-up of your daughter lying on her back in front of you, her face red and wrung out, her hair falling in the air on the other side of the table, her breasts exposed and marked by your many hickeys and her pretty pink pussy that you've just finished devouring.

You grab both her hands and pull her towards you so that she's at your full height, then you take her in your arms as if you were comforting a small child.

"You're so hard daddy, you can do it if you want to," she says with a little hesitation and tired eyes, then you notice that your cock is at the same height as her pussy.

The choice seems obvious but at the same time you don't want to take it lightly and spoil the moment, the lack of time and place is not what you want to give your princess who is offering herself to you so you shake your head in refusal then plant a long kiss on her lips.

"Not now baby, another time," you reply as you start to pull away from her, only to feel her hand holding you back.

"At least let me make you feel better, I want to make you feel better too," she says as she grabs your cock and starts to jerk it like before.

"Do you like it when I rub your naughty cock? Why does a father turn on his daughter so much?" Yuna tries to be provocative to arouse you, but the tone is off and her lack of experience is glaring, you just smile under your daughter's true words.

Your orgasm builds as Yuna experiments with your cock, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible. You put your hands on her tits again and play with them, which doesn't seem to bother her, far from it.

.

.

"Daddy?"

.

.

"Yes, sweetie?

.

.

"You know ... if you want my lemons to give you their juice, you'll have to give me yours first," she said, pointing to her pussy.

The image crosses your mind, the image of a father and daughter kissing the fruit of their forbidden love, a father giving his love to his daughter and a daughter giving birth to that love, your excitement and shame explode as your cock comes to paint the lower part of your daughter's body, her pussy and thighs marked by your essence.

I'm sorry, I'll clean you up,' you say, looking for something to wipe your cum-filled daughter with.

"It's OK, I'll do it myself,' she says as she scoops up the white liquid and brings it to her mouth.

Any young man would have been revitalised to see such a beautiful woman collecting cum on her body, but your cock is now in a less than glorious state and you pull up your trousers, taking care to get dressed.

"It's almost time darling, I have to go," you tell her as you haven't eaten or slept well, it's going to be a long day.

"Wait," she replies as she approaches you, still naked, "don't forget my goodbye kiss," as she presses her lips hard against yours, then whispers, "we'll continue tonight, I love you.

Your body and mind may be in bad shape, but knowing your princess will be there for you tonight fills your heart with a feeling you've been missing.

Later, in your car on the way to work, you get a notification that someone you're following has just started a live stream, obviously it's Yuna, she's the only one you follow, you pick up the stream on the way, but enough to hear your daughter say

My favourite fruit? mhhhhhhhhhh that's a good question, I'll go with lemon, it's a sweet fruit like me and TMI, but my dad loves lemons'.

______________________________________________________________

[rey-jake-therapist]

Ok, here am I again posting another TROP/Haladriel meta... Feel free to mute me if you can't take it anymore, these are gonna be two long weeks as there are still two episodes left...

We're having a lot of discussions about what we'll get to see in Episode 8 (maybe even a bit in episode 7??), and it's really great and exciting to speculate about what will happen when our two love birds mortal enemies finally meet again.

It seems to be the general consensus that Sauron will try again to convince her to be his queen. Now I may be the dissonant voice, but I personnally don't think it will be that straightforward.

Charlie said several times that Sauron was pissed that Galadriel rejected him, but that it wasn't the end of the world, for him. Meaning: he totally believes he can make it without her.

To the Nerdist, he said :

"Speaking of your old screenmate, Sauron asked Galadriel to be his queenOpens in a new tab at the end of season one of The Rings of Power. How much, if at all, does he still want that by this point? And does he think it’s a possibility? Vickers: I think he probably does think it’s still a possibility because he has this hubris and this self-love. He thinks he’s really cool, and he thinks, “Well, she rejected me once, but next time I come back for her, she won’t reject me again because I’ll be so powerful she won’t be able to.” But I don’t think he necessarily wants that. I think his initial proposal to her was to join him, and they could be king and queen of Middle-earth, but really, he would’ve been king, and she would’ve been his righthand woman. Any kind of dreams he has involve her being number two and him being number one."

(I would love to see him try to submit Galadriel to his will, btw. I mean, c'mon man)

To Collider, he said,

"His getting rejected definitely leaves him with this sour taste in his mouth, and he goes away thinking, “I can make this right.” Whatever that means to him. That's one of his throughlines in terms of his motivation or goals for this second season is how much he's driven and how much this relationship gives him a sense of purpose."

And to Schön:

That connection will endure as long as the show endures because although they might not be together in proximity when we pick it up, he’s pissed off that she has turned his pitch down [laughter]. That drives him to think, I can make her join me, or I’ll make her pay for this.

Here, there's also an interview he gave for Total Films, where he reveals that there's a "huge amount of urgency in each of them trying to obtain what they want in that situation": https://x.com/totalfilm/status/1830244276539654595

I'm sure I've read an interview where Charlie said that Sauron would probably want to taunt Galadriel with what they could have done together had she said yes. Edit : found it! Interview for TV Insider.

Second to his lust for more rings is Sauron’s desire to get the Elven rings back. “While he didn’t directly touch them, which is a big thing this season, [Galadriel] has this ring that he put all this effort into, and he wants that back,” Vickers admits. Sauron “covets” these jewels, “and particularly hers,” he explains, “because he knows what they represented when he was making them.” Sauron feels “taunted” and “pissed off” that Galadriel rejected him. That makes getting her ring back personal, but Vickers insists that “he’s past ruling with her.” That won’t stop him from showing her “what could have been, what you could have had,” Vickers teases.

Of course Charlie can't give much away. But so far, it matches with what we saw in season 2 : he's in Eregion, forging his rings of power with Celebrimbor, he's visibly happy (just kidding, the man looks exhausted and depressed), but sometimes he can't help but think of Galadriel.

I love how the experience is completely different for him, from it is for Galadriel: while she had a bittersweet flashback of her and Halbrand in the Southlands, he gets lost in the contemplation of Mirdania's hair because she reminds her of Galadriel, and manifests images in his mind palace that also remind him of her (there are several posts about all this on Tumblr, including one of mine... I won't enter into the details again).

It would be very OOC of Sauron to display an outright nostalgia for the time he spent with Galadriel as Halbrand, imho, even if it was only for the audience to see. He's not supposed to be sad and nostalgic, but pissed at her for rejecting him, and determined to move on and to obtain what he wants without her in the picture. He's probably annoyed af to see his thoughts shifting towards Galadriel while he's in the middle of something very important. He's in his "the fuck with her" phase of the breakup, which pretty much matches what Charlie said. In his hubris, he believes that once he has his rings, he will be so powerful that Galadriel will have no other choice than joining him. She hurt his pride, so now he wants to relish the sight of her submission to him.

Regarding the mind palace scene, precisely the one where the guy tells the Galadriel look alike he wrote a poem : it probably remained unnoticed by most viewers, but I think it's very significant that this scene arrived at THIS moment. Let me explain:

To convince Celebrimbor, Sauron first assures him that when the story of this age is written, the Silmarils will be "no more than a whisper". Of course it's meant to motivate Celebrimbor who always wanted to create something that would be remembered, like the Silmarils. But it can be interpreted as a personal goal for Sauron as well :

1) Morgoth found the Silmarils so beautiful that for weeks, "he could do nothing but stare into their depth".

2) Fëanor admired Galadriel's hair so much it gave him the idea of imprisoning and blending the light of the Trees, and three times requested a tress of hers (she always said 'no').

The two people he loved/admired but hurt him the most are connected to the Silmarils in a way, so he could see the creation of something "more precious" as a personal challenge. After he promises Celebrimbor that his rings of power will be "deemed the most precious creations in all Middle-Earth", and Celebrimbor returns to his workshop, his attention is caught by the sight of a couple. The man (whose face remains unseen, because he's a just a self-insert) tells the Galadriel look alike :

"I've written a poem, but I fear your beauty still overshadows anything I could possibly write."

Of course we joked about Sauron's pathetic attempt at poetry (it's terrible lol), but imho there was a deeper meaning to this scene. I think it was his subconscious manifesting what he already knows deep inside of him : that without Galadriel's light, there will ALWAYS be something missing. That what he told Celebrimbor was a lie, no matter how much Sauron wants it to be the truth. The Rings of power are his poem, but Galadriel's beauty/light will always overshadow it.

Hence why it's pretty much granted that he will try to "get Galadriel back". He'll show her how powerful he is now that he has the Nine rings, and his proposal will probably not be as charming as it was the first time. I think we should prepare ourselves to a lot of gaslighting and threatening from his part (he's still pissed off, guys). He'll surely tell her that Eregion is burning because she refused him, that kind of thing. He will definitely use her memories of Halbrand (it's pretty much confirmed by the presence of Halbrand's theme within The Temptation music, and maybe Galadriel's vision of Halbrand enters that scheme too), but will it be to show her what they could have had if she had said yes the first time, or what they could still be? It remains to be seen.

We probably shouldn't forget that in his mind, it happens like this: "she joins me, or I'm making pay for it".... It should be pretty intense.

Then we've got what Charlotte Brändström revealed about Sauron (bless her heart) :

"I think Sauron even really loves Galadriel and you will see that at the very end”

There are already several threads discussing how Sauron will show his love for Galadriel... Will he spare her? Save her in one way or another? Heal her because she's hurt? Prove her in some way that what he said he felt as Halbrand was real? Something entirely different? Anyway, it will be something that can't be confused with manipulation.

There, I said my piece. Why isn't it next Thursday yet?

[theamazingmuse]

How to always look neat

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THIS IS ALL IN THE DETAILS. When I say neat, I mean if you are late and you still wanna look good, without many effort.

Iron your clothes. You have to do it. Sometimes it's exhausting but this looks so good once you did it. Especially if you wear blouses ! Iron clothes look cleannnnn

Next hair. It's all about you. Make sure to take care of them, no matter which texture you have. Caucasian, natural, long, short...Hair is an essential part. Make sure to know which hairstyle is good for your face too.

Teeth / breath: when you talk this the first thing that we notice. Have a good smell, use a good toothpaste and a good toothbrush. It is recommended to change your toothbrush (classic) every 3 months.

-> Moreover, if you smell bad from the mouth nobody is gonna tell you lol.

Your face. Especially your eyes and mouth. Keep a lip balm or a gloss in your bag. I really like gloss. Also mascara can make a huge difference, even if you wear nothing on. If you wanna put some makeup, make sure it is the good undertone.

There are many undertones no matter what your skin color is. You're not necessary warm if you are black for exemple. I struggled a lot with that to find out that I'm a neutral. So take your time to know that. It's gonna look so smooth after, like your skin.

-> How can I not say the brows. It is what structure your face.

Nails. It's all about you #2. I think that nails represent our personality. I really like dark red WITH an almond shape. For now, I make my nails grow because I can't with fake anymore. It means that there is only a strengthener. Keep them clean even when there is nothing on. Accessoiries. Necklace, belts, earrings, bag, you already know this part

Last but not least PERFUME. Now the perfume is the icing on the cake. It has to be a blend with your outfit

-> For an office siren look, you're not going to wear something floral. Something more woody/strong would be good. If you wear a pink dress with ribbon, you're gonna wear something more feminine. I think that many people don't understand that

+ note expert: I highly recommend you to find your signature scent. Something that represent YOU, that you can wear everyday. Go at Sephora and smell everything. Then find what you like (especially notes) and write them. Here is three perfume that me, the antagonist would recommend

Scandal - La belle Intense. INTENSE. People always forget the INTENSE when I tell them. Every time I get compliments from men and women (and this is not my signature scent by the way). Trust me one this one, if you like gourmand, vanilla perfume. Perfect for winter

Maison Margiela Collection- I really like on a date for this autumn, very woody. This collection is amazing

Acqua di gioia - if you like smelling like laundry this is SAME smell. Very fresh.

I can talk about perfumes everyday so maybe I would make a post with outfit that I like with the perfect perfume . (I have a good style I promise you)

I really like vanilla, woody, strong perfume. I am more in the gourmand, sweet side. I don't like floral perfume.

-> I think I would make a post about perfume that I like in each perfumes family. I have a huge notion table with my harsh perfume opinions 😭

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THE END. My mom always told me that I have to look clean before even thinking about be beautiful. It feels so good to be neat.

I love wherever you are

theamazingmuse 🫧

(me and my perfume opinions lmao)

[viccharine]

what a wonderful caricature of intimacy

(commentary + process under the cut, reblogs appreciated!!)

about the piece: was anyone else obsessed with the line “accessorizing with a rosary tucked inside her lingerie” ???? genuinely, “build god and then we’ll talk” was my FAVORITE song almost entirely because of that line, it’s SOO GOOD. maybe it’s because I’ve kinda made it my thing to illustrate songs, but I really appreciate when songs have really descriptive lyrics/ideas that translate really well into visual art.

also, more about my process: I’ve realized two things about myself and my art w/ this piece:

1. i don’t really like working with color at all!! it’s just not very fun for me, I’d much rather work in shades of black and white and use my beloved screen tones instead :)

2. i like a lot of angular shapes— curved lines make me mad and i would prefer not to mess w them (read: loser who won’t put in the effort to draw anything resembling a circle)

I really enjoyed almost “carving” out this figure—i usually start with a black canvas and add a blob of white that vaguely resembles the form and then slowly using black to carve out the figure. adding the screen tones and creating the back-lit effect was also super cool (the lighting probably isn’t that accurate, but i never said i was GOOD at it)

also, if you’ve been following me for a while, you probably recognize this concept from my earlier dance dance piece:

they are very similar concept wise, but around a year apart!! i think I definitely like the execution of the more recent one better, but it’s cool to see the evolution of my art despite me not making art that often anymore. I can’t say much to whether or not the anatomy in either of the pieces is accurate, but I would probably assume that the recent one is more accurate

usually I would end these types of posts with some commentary about the song, but I really don’t have much to say analysis-wise! build god and then we’ll talk is still one of my fav songs off afycso, and sonically it’s definitely one of the most interesting songs panic! has ever put out—very happy to have finally made a piece to show my appreciation for the song :)

anyway that’s it byeeeeeeeeeeee!

[stanpinesdykewife]

hi! i’m the anon that sent in the request for ford/reader after a nightmare. thank you so much for writing it and putting your creative spin on it, it’s written so tenderly and it’s so sweet! i have a history of bad ones and seeing a comfort character help the reader in that scenario is just,,i have no words of how sweet it is,, kudos kudos kudos to you may you have a wonderful month

HI ANON!!! thank you for waiting omg i know it took me a while but i had a lot of fun with your request!!! :) i'm so glad you found it as sweet as i did ajdkakjk!! it means a lot that you'd double back and be so nice about your ask after it was posted!! i'll take it as a sign i did your prompt some justice HAHAHA i'm really grateful for the inspo!!

some extra details/hcs under the cut for you as thanks for being patient with me:

ford is very good at reading faces and body language. he knows just from looking at you whether you've had a nightmare or a nice rest

ford has studied up! he knows hugging/cuddling helps decrease stress etc and it'll always be his go-to remedy for anything you're dealing with

he's always been a light sleeper, and you rarely ever have to wake him up if you need help after a nightmare. he's also not a morning person, but he'll never snap at you in the mornings

he usually wakes up earlier than you but after a nightmare he makes a special effort to buy you your favorite breakfast for you to enjoy in bed!

if you don't want to talk about a nightmare or bad day you've had, ford will gladly keep your mind off things by rambling to you about his latest research

ford gets restless staying still for too long but he'll make himself stay nice and still when you need to shut down for a bit and curl up in his lap. he'd probably read a book over your head and give you a lazy scalp massage doing so

thank you so much again for the cute comfort content!!

[davey-in-a-minivan]

Isabel Lovelace My Absolute Beloved

Lovelace is one of my favorite examples of one of my favorite kinds of characters, which is: woman who the world is trying so hard to kill and emerges beat up and spitting out teeth and still going.

(Relatedly, Eva Olivia Moreno is one of the few White Vault characters I really loved and it's on the strength of the joy I felt when i realized that not only had Eva NOT died when a rockslide separated her from the team, but instead dragged herself three days over the mountains, alone, covered in mud and blood and bruises, WITH ALL THE TEAM'S DATA DRIVES, to let the world know what was going on and demand rescue for the others. LOVE HER. Alessandra "Cockroach" Strong of the Penumbra Podcast ALSO falls into this category and I would've loved to see more of her)

Interestingly, I think Lovelace plays a similar role in-universe for Eiffel and Minkowski, in that they first encounter her as a 'character' in old audio logs whose survival they are rooting for at a remove -- when Eiffel and Minkowski listen to her logs but it's unclear whether she made it off the station, Eiffel shushes Minkowski's skepticism and says "let me have my badass space commando chick!!" In the absence of conclusive evidence he clings to the idea that she survived, for what i suspect are two reasons: (1) it means it's possible to survive and gives him and Minkowski a sliver of hope, and (2) it's not fair for her to die after trying so hard to save herself and her crew, and if she survived he can believe that there's some fairness in the universe.

After Kepler shoots Lovelace, Minkowski tells an imagined Lovelace how badly she wanted to get Lovelace home because she wanted to believe that she could go home, which feels like an echo of Eiffel's earlier sentiment--obviously by now Minkowski knows and cares about Lovelace as a person, but she's also a symbol of the ultimate survivor, who will do whatever it takes to get home. If Lovelace, who fought harder and longer, with more skill and fewer limits than Minkowski finds herself capable of, and still didn't survive, what chance is there for Minkowski and her crew?

WHICH MAKES IT SO FUCKING SATISFYING WHEN LOVELACE LIVES AGAIN.

I need you all to know--Lovelace was "dead" for, what, an episode??--in that time my then-roommate and I put up a SHRINE to her memory. She was too cool and tragic and extreme and funny and hot to die!!!

I'm very glad the universe and Gabriel Urbina agreed.

It's not only satisfying because I'm obsessed with her and wanted her back (which I admit freely). It's a riveting development in the story of the unkillable Captain Lovelace where we finally see that she CAN'T be killed because she's already dead. Functionally she's a ghost in the story, haunting the Hephaestus until she finishes her unfinished business, and there's a delightful sheen of destiny to her arc where I was like oh fuck they've already done their worst to her and she's still going. She's going to win this. I don't know what it'll cost her, this could still be a tragedy, but she's GOING to succeed.

What does this mean for the rest of the original crew looking to her as a symbol? Eiffel, Minkowski and Hera do survive, like Lovelace. It is possible. But it costs them a lot. Weeks after Lovelace dies, resurrects, and has the day-ruining revelation that she's actually the alien clone of the dead woman she thought she was haha, she talks about the discomforting effort she makes to be the real Lovelace, not the person that Goddard turned her into. I think once they return to Earth the rest of the crew will struggle in similar ways. Minkowski need to believe that Lovelace could come home, and she did. But none of them could be the same as they were before.

Now, obviously the extremes Lovelace had to go to in pursuit of survival and justice were difficult and upsetting for her. But they were also hot!! SO let's wrap this up with some of the most iconic Lovelace moments according to me:

1. The "run and hide" monologue Eiffel and Minkowski find - HOT. sorry i know this comes on the heels of her describing the harrowing tragedy of her crew members' deaths but like

that's hot!!! go girl, kill em all!!!

2. THE DEAD MAN'S SWITCH. she said im going big AND going home, through the power of insane resourcefulness and this nuclear bomb i made

3. "variations on a theme" is suuuch a good minisode

4. disabling the airlock during the clone jacobi situation without telling anyone

5. NAPALM

6a. broadly, the hostage situation during the coup, where she goads kepler into focusing on her instead of eiffel

6b. SPECIFICALLY the part of the hostage situation where she gets the show's one "fuck"

7. alien possession lovelace!!!! i know it wasn't quite her melting kepler's hand off but god it's a fun scene

8. time loop lovelace. i love a good time loop and the contrast between her yelling and goading and shooting things in the last argument but also being, like, pretty chill and pragmatic about it--this is just her method of causing enough trouble to break the loop--is fun

9. hera's and her intersecting journeys re: what it means to be a person

10. distracting cutter so minkowski can stab him with the harpoon!!!!!!

in conclusion: WHAT A CHARACTER

[alexanderwales]

The worst thing about creative AI right now is that it produces bad results. The writing is bad, the images are bad, and the video is bad. It's impressive, sometimes, that the technology works as well as it does, but it's still bad.

I think if you sit down and go through a few hundred generations, then tweak and edit and inpaint and think intently, you can sometimes get something worth putting in front of people, if you have the right eye for it. I could definitely edit up an AI-written short story into something worth reading, especially if I was the one who had fed it the prompt and gone through the work of having my own ideas to insert. I think at least part of the output would be the AI's, and I could carve away everything that was nonsense or just bad, leaving only a few turns of phrase or some general boilerplate structure ... and this would take more time and effort than just writing the thing myself.

Most people who use generative AI do not want to do any work, and in fact, have no conception of what work would be required. Most of them are consumers, not producers, and they're used to the modes of content consumption, where you don't look closely at the details. Generative AI, in its current state, just kind of sucks when you're in a "press button, get results" mindset.

The stuff generated by "press button, get results" is the vast, vast majority of AI art that you will see, even accounting for filtering effects. There are a lot of people who have no love of artistry producing artwork via machines that are not good at making artwork, sometimes just for a lark, sometimes with profit in mind, and it's threatening to drown out other stuff in spite of being bad.

This is my thesis: generative AI produces bad results, and this is possibly the worst thing about it. If it were able to produce good results, I think that a lot of people would be less opposed to it. If you could get a short story that was worth reading, or a picture worth looking at, for no additional effort of manipulation or prompt engineering or whatever else, then we would be flooded with good art instead of bad art.

When it comes to art, I care about how it makes me feel, and what it's trying to say, and where the intent is, and what ideas it has. AI is not there. Possibly it will never get there. But sometimes I see a picture that the AI has made, and I do feel something in the sweep of the lines, or the composition, or just the juxtaposition of elements. It's just really really rare, and the product of either chance or really careful work on the part of some human. It's not something that the AI can do reliably, at least at the moment. You can also quibble about intent, because the AI "has none", but I find beauty in nature too, which is not trying to make a statement with its sunsets, and whose intents, if they can be said to exist, are mostly about things that are orthogonal to my perceptions, like the plumage of a sparrow or the curved leaves of a fern. To me, art is art because of the way that it can be read and the emotions that I feel when I look at it. Contentious, I'm sure, but I don't find other definitions all that useful.

But the art that the AI makes is, unless expertly guided, bad. And there's a ton of it, and it's impacting the ability of real artists to make superior work.

I think the future I see, if the AI doesn't get better, is one where we have a bunch of cheap shit that's replaced a lot of good expensive things. I am in favor of cheap things, but I'm not in favor of shit. I would love for translation to be as simple as pressing a button. I would love to have a good painting to go with every chapter I write. But we're in a world where the results mostly suck unless you're willing to put in quite a bit of effort and have some expertise in a field of creative endeavor, and that means we're in a world where the products are bad.

I'm interested to see how the conversation shifts if the results start getting better, because that seems to me like one of the sticking points.

[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. xi: Peace of Mind

Chapter Summary: As the Greens plot their ambitions, the very Prince they plan on putting the crown on can barely contain the tent in his breeches.

Word Count: 4033

Sneak Peak: But before he could dive his fingers in between her heaving breasts, a third voice broke through the static of his empty brain.  “Shyla!” “I wasn’t touching her!” Aegon sprang away from the brunette, bum sliding to the far right of the balcony until his back hit the wall.

Warnings: Aegon chapter. Dunno if that's a good thing or not at this point.

T H E  G R E E N S 

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“The Starks have departed from White Harbour with the Manderlys,” Otto leans back in his chair, right leg extending under his desk as he regards his daughter sitting in the armchair across from him. “They should be arriving in a sennight. The Baratheons will arrive before them, of course. Borros is already not pleased that we cannot house him and his four daughters in the Keep.”

“Hm,” Alicent hummed, looking down at the steaming cup of tea cradled in her hands. “Between the Celtigars, my cousin’s family, and Rhaenyra’s lot, we will be at full capacity at the Holdfast. Is there no room elsewhere? Perhaps near the north towers?”

“Mayhaps, but we will need to work night and day to prepare whatever rooms we find to be acceptable for them.” 

“It will be better than a series of tents, I’d wager,” Alicent tried to reason. “From what I’ve heard, his daughters are spoiled and wouldn’t want anything less than stone walls and carpeted floors.” 

Otto hummed in agreement, “Luckily the Starks are of stronger mettle. It is only Cregan and his sister that accompanies them.” 

“What of his younger brother… Rickard, was it?” 

“Fated for the Wall, I’m afraid. He will remain in Winterfell.” 

With a nod, Alicent allowed silence to fall between them. 

Ever since her husband regained his health, Alicent was relieved of her duties from the Small Council; she was no longer needed to be Viserys’s regent, much to her chagrin. Alicent hated not being present during the meetings; it was her only semblance of power and influence as Queen, and now that was taken away from her. With having no way of knowing what was going on within the Realm, she couldn’t offer her sage advice or a woman’s perspective. The men of the Council lacked the gentler approach. Now she had no choice but to rely on second hand accounts from her father and Lord Larys Strong. 

“And is there any news of Lord Corlys? The last I heard, his body was still lost in the Step Stones.” The Lord of Driftmark had been absent from his seat for nearly ten years following both deaths of his only children. He had spent that time keeping control over the won lands, ensuring the Triarchy did not gain occupation of it. However, in his efforts, he was ambushed and had his throat slashed, though his body had not been recovered, there was no way of knowing if he had survived or not. Until now, that was. 

“One of his men found him,” Otto reached for the thin leaf of paper that the raven had delivered. “He is unconscious, but back at Driftmark. The maesters do not know if he will survive.” 

The Queen hummed sadly, fingers tapping the mug in her hands before taking a tentative sip. There will be contention regarding the succession for Driftmark. By name, she knew Lucerys would be the one to inherit, but.. Well, the truth of it laid as obvious as his dark hair and eyes. 

“Have we heard from Rhaenyra yet?” Alicent finally asked the only question she had been thinking about all day. 

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Alicent tried to contain the eagerness behind her eyes. Otto continued, “Maester Gerardys wrote to us, explaining that their reluctance of leaving Dragonstone was due to the babe Visenya’s health. She’s a sickly child, from what I’ve learned, and it is believed she will not survive to see her first name day.”

Alicent visibly paled, her shoulders sunk as her back rested against the seat. An unsettling pit in her stomach formed that not even a generous gulp of tea could remedy. 

“Poor Rhaenyra. To possibly lose a babe – her only daughter,” She shook her head, as if ridding herself of the idea of putting herself in those shoes. If she had lost Helaena, Alicent did not believe she’d survive her grief.

“It would be quite a tragedy…” Otto nods, leaning forward as a sigh filters through his nostrils. “But we cannot question the Stranger… He does not discriminate, and is never fair.”

Alicent shut her eyes, willing her ears to pretend she did not hear her father. Perhaps it is because she’s a woman, perhaps it is because she’s a mother, or perhaps it is because she still loved Rhaenyra, but either way she could not bear to hear such callous sentiments through empty philosophical religious sentiments. Especially from her father, who had a direct involvement in the reason why there was a crater between her and her childhood friend. 

Clearing her throat, she changed the subject, “What about Daeron? When is he due to return?”

“Soon,” Otto replied simply, his eyes casted down at his papers. “Gwayne and my nephew’s family are on the road, and Daeron will follow him on dragonback shortly after. I sent a raven warning him to ensure he takes Tessarion straight to the Pit as soon as he arrives.”

Alicent’s brow knitted in confusion, “What’s the urgency?”

“The Cannibal has been spotted circling the Kingswood,” The Hand’s brow also furrowed, “Gods know why. That old beast hasn’t come this far inland since Aegon the first.”

Alicent ran her teeth over her bottom lip, “You think he will hunt for dragons in King’s Landing?”

“They don’t call him The Cannibal for nothing, Alicent. Perhaps there hasn’t been enough hatchlings at the Dragonmont to placate his diet.”

“And what about Vhagar? She is vulnerable.” 

“If Cannibal wanted to attack her, he would have done so ages ago. She’s bigger than him, possibly older– who knows. That beast has been here longer than the Iron Throne. Besides,” Otto splays his hands on his desk before pushing himself out of his chair. “Aemond has her flying around King’s Landing, ensuring he does not approach. With any luck the beast will give up and go back to his cave in Dragonmont.”

“Unless he decides to attack farmers and travellers,” Alicent watches her father move to a table where a jug of wine sat.

“He doesn’t attack humans – unless provoked. And no one is foolish enough to try to claim him. He’s wild, untamable, and loathes Targaryens.”

“That does not ease my mind, father.” 

“We have it handled,” Otto brought his goblet to his lips, taking a modest sip. “Worry your mind with something more important, such as the marital fate of your children. The King wishes to marry Clement Celtigar with Helaena.”

Alicent stood up straight in her seat, eyes wide, “But she is to marry Aegon.”

Otto nods, “We should have done that long ago. We must deter him from that idea, and consider another match. He wants to unite the Celtigars with the Targaryens, then there are plenty to choose from.”

The queen swallowed, knowing who he was implying, “There are still Daemon’s girls… Surely one of them would be a better fit to be the future Lady of Claw Isle.”

“As I suggested, but his Grace does not wish to speak on behalf of his brother. And you know Daemon… he will do the complete opposite to what is told of him.”

“There is Daeron–”

Otto lifted his hand up to stop her, “Alicent. Please… You cannot skirt around this any longer. Aemond is your second eldest son – he must marry.” 

“He does not have to marry a Celtigar,” Alicent bent forward as she placed her now tepid tea on his desk. “It is a wiser match to pair him with one of the Baratheon girls. Daeron is of similar age to Bartimos’ younger daughter, Shyla. You cannot deny that it would be perfect.” 

Otto stared at his daughter with dwindling patience, his hand gripped the back of his chair as he looked down at her as a father would to a stubborn daughter. He supposed he would have to tell her of his plans for Daeron sooner or later, and now seemed the best possible timing. Particularly since he needed her to be compliant if he was going to succeed in the strategic marriage alliances he wished to orchestrate.

“I’ve had Daeron keep a correspondence with Floris Baratheon for the past few moons. They have become quite familiar and fond of each other – Lord Borros is aware, and he approves of the match.” 

Alicent launched herself from her seat, rounding the desk towards her father, “You did what?” Otto opened his mouth, but the question was rhetorical, and she was not going to let him speak. “You cannot make such decisions without my counsel, father! I am Daeron’s mother! I have the final say on who he is betrothed to!”

“Alicent,” her father stepped towards her, towering over her form and reminding her of how little power she actually has. “Daeron’s name has not left your lips for moons at a time. He is the son of Oldtown, raised by your uncle, brother, and cousins! You should be happy for him! The boy will marry a lady from a great house, who he has found friendship with and may even love!” 

With pursed lips, Alicent’s face blanched at every word, slowly shrinking away from him. 

Otto heaved a heavy sigh when he absorbed her expression, and then downed the rest of his wine before placing it onto his desk. 

“Aemond must marry one of the Celtigar girls, to appease your husband, your King. Despite the bad blood between them, Valeana Celtigar is the smartest choice. She is Bartimos’ eldest blood daughter, and her mother was a Lannister. She has the blood of two of the richest families in the Seven Kingdoms, the Crown’s treasury would be overflowing with her dowry alone.”

“Is that what this is? You will force two people who hate each other into a marriage just for gold?”

Otto waved dismissively, “Aemond does not hate Valeana. He only fears her. That will change once her belly swells with his first child.”

Alicent furrowed her brow and shook her head. Her fingers carded through her auburn tresses in frustration. Then turning around to collect herself, her slender digits moved from her hair, down to her throat. 

“She will not forgive him,” She finally spoke. “Did you know that they had to amputate her foot, and part of her leg? Just under the knee.” 

There was a heavy pause before Otto replied in a softer voice, “No… I did not.” 

Alicent turned to him again, brows upturned worryingly, eyes glossy with tears of frustration and guilt, “What happens if Aemond cannot gain her trust? What if Bartimos refuses?”

Sighing through his mustache, the Hand of the King leaned against his desk, “He may marry the younger one… But if Bartimos even refuses that proposal, then… Then, The King will take it upon himself to marry Helaena to Clement Celtigar, and everything we’ve worked hard for will be in vain. Aegon will have less claim to the Throne than Rhaenyra and Daemon’s legitimate Targaryen children. He must marry his sister if the Realm is ever going to see him as Viserys’ true heir.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“There you are!”

Aegon jostled, jumping in his seat at the unwelcome surprise. The bottle he was nursing spilled some ale from the rim and onto his thighs. 

“Bastard, I’ll have you hang– Oh, Shyla Celtigar!” His voice heightened, his lips twitched to hold his faux grin. “What— What a lovely…lovely surprise. How, er, did you find me?”

He was sitting on a balcony in the far east tower, not at the top, but quite near it. The space lacked foot traffic, which he preferred. Hiding from Shyla wasn’t even in the forefront of his mind – in fact he had forgotten about his little stalker for the last two days, since that night had happened. Aegon’s mind had been otherwise preoccupied with other things, other someones. He just needed a reprieve, a quiet, lonely place where no one could find him… 

He should’ve known better. It was Shyla afterall.

“I saw you by your lonesome from the Serpentine Steps,” she grinned, all gums, as she helped herself to a seat on the balcony’s edge next to him. Her hands immediately found his unoccupied one, and caged it in her fingers. He tried to slyly pull away, but she had a surprising strong grip. “I was thinking about when we should tell our parents about us. I thought we could wait until everyone arrives, but I am just too excited!” She bounced around on her spot. “The sooner, the better. We could be husband and wife by the end of the moon’s cycle.”

Aegon chuckled nervously, and took a large gulp from his bottle of ale with a shaking wrist. 

“Oh, no, no– I don’t think–” 

“You know Aegon,” She shuffled her bottom and got closer to him, and batted her eyelashes. “This tower is very empty. We’re alone up here.”

He felt a nervous burp bubble through his teeth, “Oh, but if you were able to see me from the steps then— Oh, oh~” 

She had taken his hand, then proceeded to slip his middle and pointer finger through her lips… and started to suckle on them. Heat collected to his groin, and Aegon’s mind turned into a battlefield between team common sense and team needy cock. And like always, his cock was winning by a landslide. Due to the feeling of her tongue circling the tips of his fingers, his mouth popped open to let a whimper escape.

Aegon swallowed, “Shit.”

Shyla slipped his fingers slowly out of her mouth, then had them trail down her lip and chin slowly, proceeding more south. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” His resolve was dying, and the memory of why he was even trying to avoid her in the first place started to fade in the haze of a rosy coloured lust fog. 

But before he could dive his fingers in between her heaving breasts, a third voice broke through the static of his empty brain. 

“Shyla!”

“I wasn’t touching her!” Aegon sprang away from the brunette, bum sliding to the far right of the balcony until his back hit the wall. When his eyes finally registered who was standing at the entrance of the rounded empty room, he heaved a great sigh of relief, and his lips pulled into a giant, grateful, grin. “Lady Valeana! What-wh-what another lovely surprise.” 

The blonde raised an eyebrow at him, then turned back to her sister, “Mother has been looking for you. You need another fitting for that dress.” 

Shyla pouted, “But I’m busy! And how did you know I was here?”

“I can see you from the Steps clear as day,” Val glanced at Aegon when she said that. “Ought to be more careful. Someone might think your purity is compromised, and then father will be forced to send you back to the Isle.”

Shyla’s eyes widened and her back went rigid straight, “He wouldn’t. Surely he wouldn’t!”

“He would!” Valeana nodded, eyes mockingly wide. “You’d embarrass him, and the entire house. He will be forced to send you away and make you become a septa.” 

Shyla sprung to her feet with a gasp, then moved so far away from Aegon that one would think he was the predator in the room (which would be a fair assumption). 

“No! No! We weren’t doing anything! I didn’t– Aegon?”

“No, no, your sister was perfectly chaste,” Aegon was quick to say, pretending to give the girl a secret nod and wink.

“See!”

“I believe you, Shy, but the court may not. Luckily I saw no one around, so you got off lucky. But mayhaps you should find mother before someone does come around and makes up defamatory rumours about you and our family.”

Shyla nodded, arms all jittery as she collected her skirts and turned to Aegon to give him a stiff curtsey, “Thank you for being a gentleman, my prince. If you may excuse me, my mother calls.”

Aegon nodded, “You’re–” he coughed, then crossed his legs. “You’re excused, my lady.”

The two waited as Shyla was out of the tower, stepping briskly down the Serpentine Steps with her back towards him.

Aegon turned to his saviour, “Seven bless you, Valeana Celtigar. If you hadn’t come when you did–”

Val lifted her hand to stop him, “Hm, yes, I know. Bad decisions, weak will, crazy sister.”

She walked over to the balcony, sitting at the far end, ensuring there is ample space between them should someone actually spot the two sitting there in the tower, alone. 

Aegon hadn’t seen her since that night, at least not this personally. She was spending a lot of her time with his sister and by herself it seemed. He caught her a few times from atop a parapet, sitting alone in the garden or next to the Heart Tree. He thought many times to come down to converse with her, to see how she was doing, but the idea felt foreign to him. He wouldn’t know what to say, nor was he equipped with dealing with womanly emotions should she get hysterical on him. 

In truth, he was scared of something else entirely. Something he couldn’t quite recognize. 

“I never got a chance to properly thank you,” Valeana finally broke the silence. “For that night. It was very kind and… honestly surprising.”

“Yes, well–” He cleared his throat. His hands gripped his knee as he kept his legs crossed, “It was-it was no problem at all. It used to happen to Helaena quite frequently, and I– Well, It’s just something I picked up over time.”

She smiled gently, genuinely, and it forced Aegon to swallow thickly. 

“She told me. It still surprises me.”

“What? I can be kind… I can be…I don’t know, benign?”

She laughed, soft and airy, “I’ve never known you to be either of those, so yes, it is surprising.” 

“I suppose that’s fair,” he gave a stiff shrug. “I don’t have the shiniest of reputations. I’m no Ae— Hm, sorry.” 

Val tilted her head, “You can say his name, I’m not going to fall into a fit over it.”

“I don’t know what provokes you.”

“I’m not that sensitive,” she looked down at her hands. “That was the first fit I’ve had in quite a while.” 

Even if she wasn’t looking at him, Aegon gave a nod in lieu of not knowing how to respond to that. He opened his mouth to ask a stupid question, like how the weather was treating her, or if she had seen any interesting birds lately. Anything to change the topic… He was terrible at poignant conversations. But she beat him to it. 

“I have done a lot of thinking.”

“A terrible passtime, I find.”

“Possible. Probably,” She looked up at him, “I’m going to forgive him.”

“Who?”

“Aemond.”

Aegon’s legs loosened, and then he leaned forward with a raised eyebrow, “Why in the world would you do that? He’s been a monster to you. He does not deserve your forgiveness.” 

She tilted her head at him, “With that logic, then I should never forgive you either. Your brother may have severed our friendship and betrayed my trust, but you took copious amounts of delight in cruelly teasing me and my sisters in our shared youth. And I do mean cruel… I’ve never forgotten a thing you’ve said.”

At that, Aegon turned away, unable to face the shame of the past. His shoulder hit the back of the wall again, and in a swift moment he picked up the forgotten bottle of ale to occupy his hands.

“You shouldn’t forgive me then,” he finally replied. “I was– am a cad,” Aegon brought the bottle to his lips and took a small gulp. He shook his head then, and looked back at her. He nearly regretted it by the way she was assessing him, green marbles full of a warmth that he did not deserve. “What changed your mind?” 

Her hands stiffly went to her sides, palms pressed against the stone ledge they sat on, “Helaena made me see things a bit more clearly. I pushed Aemond away the moment I got here, and –” she sighed heavily. “He is reacting defensively. He was right, afterall, I was making it more difficult than it needed to be. Had I been more cordial with him from the start, we might’ve become– Ugh, I’m just tired… I’m tired of being bitter. I just want peace of mind. I need to apologize to him, and allow him to do the same.”

Aegon’s shoulders sagged a bit; he wanted to groan so exasperatingly. Here he was, dick still hard, and Valeana was over there making him feel feelings and all that nonsense. 

“I’m not going to pretend to support your decision,” Aegon said, emphasizing it with a brandish of his half drunk bottle. “I honestly don’t know why you like my brother at all, to be perfectly honest. He’s a tightass, so full of himself, and a massive bore– Sorry! I digress. I don’t agree that he deserves your forgiveness, let alone your apology, but… I’ll help, if you need me. Only to keep your peace of mind. I don’t want you running through the corridors at night crying again. I need sleep, too.”

She smiled sweetly again, and Aegon mentally cursed when his cock twitched between his legs. When Valeana scooched closer to him to put a hand on his arm, he pressed himself further into the wall.

“Thank you, Aegon. You’re not as much of a cad as you think you are.” 

Aegon melted into the stone that caged him in. He partly wanted to just slip through the gaping balcony and meet the Stranger at the base of the tower, but her hand on his arm grounded him in place. He cleared his throat and adjusted himself, with legs still crossed and hand still clutching his bottle like a life preserver. 

It was difficult to look at her for this.

“Yes, well… I don’t know if I entirely agree with you… But, for what it is worth, Valeana… I am sorry. For, y’know, everything I’ve done.” 

He could see her swallow down her emotions as much as he did, and he found himself captivated by her neck as she did. When his gaze moved north, he openly stared at the purse of her lips, and how she moved her tongue over to relieve the chapped skin. 

“I appreciate the apology, Aegon,” her hand squeezed his arm. “And,” air filled her chest, pressing the neckline tighter over her bosom, and it was taking his last shred of willpower not to look down. “I forgive you.”

His purple eyes shot up to hers. 

Val gave a soft laugh, “Gods, what a weird thing for me to say.”

He laughed too, albeit more nervously, “Yes, very weird.”

She pulled away, and he could finally relax his muscles. “I’ll make it up to you for what you did for me,” she declared as she sat up, hands smoothing out the wrinkles of her simple vermillion gown. “I’ll get Shyla off your tail. She has a fickle heart, so it is only a matter of diverting her attention onto someone else.”

“Poor bloke,” Aegon eased himself from the wall he was clinging to. “I mean – your sister is just lovely–”

“I am well aware she is deranged, Aegon.”

“You said it, not me.”

With a hand running down her face, Valeana gave a soft chuckle, “Right… Well, I should be going. Are you going to remain here?”

He cleared his throat and adjusted his leg, “Y-yes. I have, uhm– some business to attend to.”

Her brow knitted, “Business? What possible business could you– Oh,” she caught his eyes flickering to his crotch. “Oh! Oh, Gods, Aegon, this entire time?”

Aegon cringed, his lips pulling downward as he sucked his teeth, “Yes. I’m afraid he won’t be put down until I take care of’em. Once the little bugger is up, he’s up.”

“Seven Hells, Aegon!”

“You’re welcome to stay and show me more of your gratitude–” The woman’s hand raised ready to strike him across the face, “It was a jest! A jest!”

Notes: I know this was very non Aemond heavy, but I needed to get some plot points through that's going on in the background. Though I'm hoping to get the next chapter out sooner than intended, because it's a good'un.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[brodygold]

Another Recruiter

I had just finished another grueling practice with the Golden Army. Sweat was dripping down my face and my legs felt like jelly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of pride that welled up inside me. I had given everything I had on the field, just like every other day. That’s what it meant to wear the golden jersey—putting in the effort, showing up for the team. Being a part of something bigger than myself

As I was catching my breath, I saw Captain Richard walking toward me, his usual confident stride unmistakable. There was something about the way he carried himself that always demanded respect. He was a leader, through and through. I straightened up, quickly wiping my forehead with my arm.

"Brody," Richard called out as he approached, his voice steady. "You’ve been putting in a lot of work lately."

"Just doing my part, Cap," I replied, trying to downplay it, though my heart was racing. There was something in his tone—something I couldn’t quite place. It made me antsy in a good way.

Richard gave me a look that I’d come to recognize during my time on the team. He wasn’t one for empty praise. When he spoke, he meant it. "You’ve done more than your part. You've shown real commitment, not just on the pitch but off it too. You've got a good head on your shoulders, and that’s exactly the kind of person we need in leadership."

I blinked, trying to process his words. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

"We’re going to need someone to help Scott with recruiting. It’s no small task, and he could use a good hand," Richard continued. "You’ve earned the chance, Brody. I’m making you assistant recruiter."

I stared at him for a moment, stunned. Assistant recruiter? Working alongside Scott, the British lad who had been our recruiter for a while now? It wasn’t a role I had ever expected to land, but hearing it from Captain Richard… it felt right. Being one of the first recruits, I’d been with the Golden Army long enough to know what we stood for, what we were building. And Scott, well, he could be a bit of a character, but we worked well together.

"Wow, Cap. I—thank you. I won’t let you down," I said, my voice almost shaking.

Richard clapped me on the shoulder, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I know you won’t. You’ve already proven yourself. Now it’s time to bring that work ethic to the recruitment side. We need new blood, players who have what it takes to be part of this family."

As Richard walked away, I felt a sense of pride swell in my chest. But it was quickly followed by the reality of what this meant. I was now going to be working with Scott—Scott, with his sharp wit and easy-going British charm. He was the kind of guy who could talk to anyone, and he had a way of getting players to open up. I liked him, though we hadn’t worked all that closely before now.

Later that day, I found Scott leaning against the locker room door, arms crossed casually over his chest. He grinned when he saw me.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the new assistant recruiter!" His British accent rolled smoothly, and he gave me a mock salute. "Looks like you and I are going to be spending a lot more time together, bruv."

"Yeah, looks like it," I said with a laugh, still adjusting to the idea.

Scott pushed off the wall and walked over, slapping me on the back. "Don’t worry, Brody. We’ll make a good team. You’ve got the work ethic, I’ve got the charm. We’ll have this place crawling with new talent in no time."

He wasn’t wrong about the charm. Scott had a way of making even the toughest guys feel like they belonged, like they had a place in the Golden Army. And maybe that was part of the reason Richard had paired us up. Together, we could cover all the bases—hard work and heart, talent and drive.

"You up for it?" Scott asked, tilting his head, his playful grin still in place. "It’s not all glamorous, you know. Sometimes, it’s just long hours and trying to convince blokes that this is the best decision they’ll ever make."

"I’m up for it," I said without hesitation.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "That’s the spirit! Welcome to the recruitment squad, mate."

And just like that, my role in the Golden Army had changed. I wasn’t just another player anymore. I had a responsibility, a new way to contribute to the team I’d come to love. And I knew with Scott by my side, we were going to find some incredible talent to wear the golden jersey.

[psychics4unet]

How can you improve your current or next relationship? 💖🔮✨PICK A CARD!

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Instructions: Look at the 3 images of the piles below. Choose the pile that you feel most drawn to. Trust your intuition and select the one that resonates with you the most. Once you have made your choice, scroll down to read the description for the pile you selected.

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Pile 1: The Lovers ❤️, Five of Cups 😢, Knight of Cups 🏇 The Lovers suggests that deep connections are vital. It’s a reminder to nurture the love you share. The Five of Cups indicates a need to let go of past disappointments, focusing instead on what still brings joy. The Knight of Cups brings a romantic energy, urging you to express your feelings more openly. Together, these cards show that improving your relationship requires emotional honesty, releasing negativity, and cherishing the bond you have. Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment!

Pile 2: The Emperor 👑, Two of Wands 🌍, Page of Swords ⚔️ The Emperor signifies the importance of structure and stability in your relationship. Establishing clear boundaries can help create a safe environment for both partners. The Two of Wands suggests looking ahead and planning for the future together, encouraging shared goals. The Page of Swords brings a fresh perspective and encourages honest communication. This combination shows that to improve your relationship, focus on establishing a solid foundation, envision your future together, and keep communication open and honest. Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment!

Pile 3: The Star ✨, Four of Wands 🎉, Queen of Cups 👑 The Star brings hope and healing, reminding you to remain optimistic about your relationship. The Four of Wands signifies celebration and stability, suggesting that recognizing achievements together can strengthen your bond. The Queen of Cups indicates emotional depth and nurturing, encouraging you to support each other’s feelings. These cards collectively emphasize that to enhance your relationship, maintain hope, celebrate your successes, and nurture each other’s emotional well-being. Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment!

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best. Remember to reblog, like, comment, and follow for more cosmic guidance and positivity!

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[torchwood-99]

From your Thematic Headcanon ask game:

hc + 😡 for a headcanon about something that makes them angry

I totally LOVE stuff to get angry about! And I’m having a chaotic day, so it feels fitting!

Oh yes here we go!!!!

Eomer

People who abuse women. His love for Eowyn and his inability to save his mother instilled him early on with a fierce hatred of people who mistreat women. A hatred that goes beyond rationality sometimes, if he sees someone treat their wife or daughter harshly he will act first, think later, barging in on the situation without considering the ramifications of his actions, and how his interference could cause harm. That said, in the aftermath, once his rage has cooled, he always tries to help in a constructive way as well. This results in several laws for the protection of wives, daughters and other female kin being passed in his day.

People making fun of his beard. Stealing this headcanon, @konartiste, because of his Numenorean blood, it took Eomer longer to grow a beard than his peers, and even after it grows in it's not so naturally lustrous as theirs. He spends hours trimming it and brushing it to give it volume, and he can't grow it too long because it comes in patchy.

People who mistreat horses. Needs no further elaboration.

Eowyn

Feeling boxed in, confined, mollycoddled, overlooked, underrated, left out, overworked, exploited or generally done shit by because of her sex. Not a headcanon just canon but it's such a pressure point (rightfully so) it has to be said.

Being sick. She hates being sick. Her relationship with her body is fraught, because on the one hand she has suffered from being relegated to certain roles because of her gender, with the onset of puberty in particular hailing a stronger enforcement of gender roles in her life, but through training and effort she has been able to give her body a great deal of strength and skill, and so any feeling of "weakness" causes her to feel like her body is betraying her. Her periods are actually quite irregular, but when they come they can be truly painful, and this she hates above all else. Working as a healer makes her more forgiving of her own weakness, and her marriage to Faramir, who never treats her as less because she is a woman, (and introduces her to a lot of fun stuff her body can do and feel) makes her more at peace with her sex, but her monthlies still cause her a fair bit of frustration, as it really does dredge up the worst feelings she has about sex and weakness. Her first period itself was pretty traumatic, without a mother or female relative to help her through it. With her mother and aunts all dead, and her entry into womanhood being marked with blood and pain, womanhood seems interconnected with suffering and death, and it takes her a long time to put that all into perspective.

Impractical shoes. She hates shoes that pinch or have high heels. She hates any female specific fashion that significantly impedes movement or comfort. If it's inflicted on men and women alike, she can stomach it (like high collars on formal occasions) but anything that singles women out for discomfort/lack of mobility is her sworn enemy.

Also, side-saddles. Absolutely detests them. Side-saddles at the end of the third age, beginning of the fourth age, are the ones that have women sit entirely facing the side, and give women riders significantly less control over their horse than front facing saddles. Lothiriel's time as queen sees the development of more practical side saddles, that allow women decent control over their horses, which Eowyn grudgingly accepts, but still holds in dislike. She actively fights against Rohan adopting them for widespread use, because the reasons for women riding side-saddle (to protect their chastity) is an attitude she rightfully sees as harmful to women. As a result of her influence, the side-saddle comes to be seen as a fashion accessory, to show off a lady's gown on formal or ceremonial occasions, and women for the most part ride astride for sport and day to day use.

Faramir

Intellectual debates. He says he's always up for an intellectual debate, he says he loves discussing ancient texts and laws and poetry, but in truth he can't stomach people having different ideas to him, whether it be philosophy, history, art etc... He tries to play it cool, and when someone says something wrong, he is happy to explain to them why they are wrong. But if they insist on being wrong, it sends him into a cold, hard fury. He maintains decorum in front of them, but then rants for hours to Eowyn about it afterwards. The thing is, he usually is right, and usually the people disagreeing with him are wrong and wilfully so, but nonetheless, it makes him a little tiresome. When he actually is wrong, and it's explained to him, he takes it on board with good grace. It's just most of the time, he's in the right, so it makes him come across as intolerant of other people's views.

People underestimating his wife. He knows that under Eowyn's proud veneer, she suffers from self-esteem issues, and he gets very angry at people dismissing her or overlooking her, because he knows it causes these issues to flame up. Also, he thinks she's absolutely amazing, and as we've established, he struggles with people having different opinions

He can camp out in absolutely filthy conditions, and put up with dirt and blood and grime as part of being a soldier, but at home and in court life, he likes things neat an orderly. He's actually a bit precious about his fine clothes, and if there's a smudge or a stain, it bothers him like an itch until it's sorted out. Eowyn sometimes teases him by wearing her coronet at an angle, and watching him resist the urge to straighten it for her. (She likes it when he does, because he's very gentle when he does it, and takes the opportunity to run his fingers through her hair.)

[honeybcj]

saturday snippet

thank u @messymoony for the tag <3

here’s some more jeggy for u all in a longer than usual snippet !

“Flowers, Reg?” Barty snorts, one knee bent and tucked up towards his chest, the other leg extended out in front of him.

“Yes.” Regulus blinks, confused as to why Barty finds this to be hilarious.

“At Grimmauld Place?” Barty continues, his cheeks reddening from the exertion holding back laughter.

“Well,” Regulus pauses, tilts his head to the side and looks at Evan for some kind of answer.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t think it’s funny. It’s uncharacteristically…sweet,” Evan chooses his words carefully, but still looks thoroughly unimpressed, nonetheless.

“Flowers! In Walburga’s yard!” Barty crows, tossing his head back as laughter erupts from the center of his chest.

Okay, when Barty puts it that way, it might be a little funny.

It’s not like Regulus’ parents made any particular effort to make Grimmauld Place a warm and welcoming home. All joy was sucked from a person’s being the minute they set foot on the property, that much is true; it had been that way since Regulus was a small child, just barely finding his own footing.

“Barty, it’s not that funny,” Regulus huffs, rolling his eyes. “It’s fucking flowers. I thought you might be all for it considering it would drive Walburga up a wall!”

“Oh, sweet, precious Reggie baby,” Barty sighs dreamily, a dopey grin plastered on his mouth.

“Here we fucking go,” Evan mumbles under his breath, covering his eyes in exasperation.

“What’s so funny?” Regulus’ brow knits together, rage boiling in the center of his chest.

“It’s funny because there’s only one person for the job,” Barty muses with gleam-filled eyes.

“Who are you—”

“James,” Barty interrupts.

“Pardon me?” Regulus blinks again.

“James,” Barty repeats.

“Potter,” Evan states blandly, dropping his hand from his eyes.

Regulus freezes, eyes locked on Barty’s face. Regulus witnesses Barty’s already thoroughly amused expression turn utterly devilish. And if you ask Regulus, that’s just flat out rude, and he might consider finding a whole new lot of friends that won’t don’t toe the line of insanity as much as the ones he has now.

“James Potter,” Regulus echoes, the name carrying some kind of weight on his tongue.

“Yeah, baby,” Barty nods, grinning like a madman. “You’re going to have James Potter all up in your gardens now, aren’t you?”

np tags @itsjaywalkers @sommerregenjuniluft @moon-seas @poetskings @ninety-two-bees @velanavis <3

[allieslittlewritings]

*not my gif <3

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Sick Day

Summary: Reader has a cold and Spencer takes care of her

Warnings: Mild sickness, none that I know of

Word Count: ~1.1k

Dread filled your stomach when you woke up and felt the annoyingly familiar feeling of a sore throat and blocked nose.

You tiredly looked at the time on your phone and saw that you were almost late for school.

Begrudgingly, you got out of bed and started to get ready, doing your best to ignore your worsening sickness.

You heard your dad knock on your door and mentally prepared yourself to pretend to be fine.

Spencer was always incredibly attentive when you were sick, sometimes overly so.

Usually it was comforting and nice, but right now you just needed to get ready so you wouldn't be late for school.

You didn't fully register that you hadn't actually said anything yet.

"Sweetheart? Can I come in?" Spencer asked.

"Yes." You prayed he couldn't hear the difference in your voice from your stuffy nose.

He opened your door and entered your room, a plate of food in hand, "I know you're almost late but I made you some breakfast."

He put the plate down on your desk and noticed your frazzled behavior.

Your bed was still unmade. A few random items of clothing were thrown here and there, presumably from when you got dressed, and he noticed the frantic way you tried to make sure you had everything you needed.

"Are you okay? Did you oversleep?"

"Uh, yeah, apparently." You grabbed your hairbrush and started trying to make your hair look more presentable.

It was apparently one of those days where your hair would just not comply.

Spencer saw your breathing get heavier, a tell-tale sign that you were getting frustrated.

"Your hair looks fine," he remarked.

"Fine isn't good enough," you grumbled in response.

Your preoccupation with your hair meant you didn't see the way his eyes narrowed as he studied you a little closer.

It was nearly impossible for you to hide things from him, with his mixture of parental instincts and profiling skills.

"Are you sure you're okay?" It was honestly kind of a trick question, he could tell you weren't.

You swallowed less often than usual, an indication of a sore throat. Your breathing was quiet, and less frequent. And he could in fact hear the tiny change in your voice. He saw the way you paused to think about every little thing, like everything you did took a lot of effort.

You also showed no indication of being about to eat the food he brought you, your tastebuds tended to get weird when you were sick.

"I'm fine." A harshness you rarely displayed was evident in your tone of voice.

"Sweetie, I can tell you're sick," Spencer finally said.

"I'm not sick," you insisted.

"Yes, you are," he said more sternly.

"Why didn't you just tell me, sweetheart?" he asked gentler.

"Why would it matter?" You started heading to the door but your dad stopped you by lightly holding your shoulder.

"You can't go to school if you're sick, you need to rest."

"I'll be fine, just let me go." You shrugged his hand off of your shoulder in annoyance.

"Baby, I'm serious. If you force yourself to go out and sit through hours of school, you'll make your health worse, and you could get other kids sick."

You frustratedly looked at him. "I'm fine," you repeated.

"Come on, odds are you already know everything your teachers would say. And it's Friday, you'll probably be better by Monday."

He wasn't wrong.

But you had it so ingrained in your head that you couldn't miss a day of school. You couldn't honestly explain why.

Spencer was well aware of that thinking pattern of yours, but your health and wellbeing would always matter more.

He noticed you pondering it in your head.

"I don't have work today," he reminded you. "We can have a nice, relaxed day together, it'll be fun."

"Okay," you finally agreed.

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm gonna call the school quickly to let them know you're not going."

Hearing that phrase left a bad taste in your mouth, but you also felt a weight lift from your shoulders knowing you could just rest.

You put your backpack down and got changed into comfier clothes again.

Spencer came back to your room after calling your school.

"I can make you something else to eat if you don't want to eat that." Spencer gestured to your still untouched plate.

You looked over at the food. "I don't want to be wasteful." You looked back at your dad with a twinge of guilt in your expression.

"You won't be, I'll eat it," Spencer assured you.

You nodded your head, not wanting to talk more because of your sore throat.

Spencer picked up the plate from your desk and started exiting your room, with you following behind him.

He made you food that was more appealing to your taste buds at the time and then you both settled comfortably on the couch.

Spencer grabbed a blanket for you and some tissues for your nose.

He let you pick a movie to watch. Unsurprisingly, it was the same one you always wanted to watch.

He didn't mind. Although it wasn't exactly his favorite movie, it was yours. Which automatically meant he loved it, too.

It made him happy to see the awe in your eyes everytime you watched it. The way you quietly mouthed the lines to yourself.

Spencer took your empty plate to the kitchen and came back with some medicine and a glass of water for you.

You quickly drank it and then turned on your favorite show.

While you watched your show, Spencer made your favorite kind of soup. Also the only type of soup he knew how to make.

You ate in silence, except for a few chuckles every now and then at the series you were watching.

Spencer read for a while after you both finished eating, seeing as he'd already watched every episode of your favorite show at least twice, and could recite almost all of them word for word.

You finished the last episode of the season you were on and just sat in silence for a minute.

The sun set and Spencer turned on a few lights before going back to his book.

"Dad?" You said quietly.

"Mhm?" Spencer hummed in response, turning a page.

"Can you read to me, please?"

A soft smile graced Spencer's face, "Of course I can. Anything specific you want me to read?"

You sat up slowly and shook your head.

Spencer held one of his arms open and waited for you to lay down on his chest.

He gently stroked your arm and pulled the blanket further up your body.

Although you didn't care much about the topic of his book, hearing his voice was soothing.

"Dad?" You interrupted him after a bit.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Thank you for taking care of me," you mumbled sleepily.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. That's what I'm here for."

"I love you," you said quietly, cuddling into him further.

"I love you, too."

Your tired eyes finally shut and you fell asleep.

Spencer let you sleep for a while before eventually picking you up and putting you in your bed.

Sick days weren't so terrible when you got to spend them with your dad.

fin. ♡

[catmask]

does anyone have like an anti aesthetic. like something you look at and can recognize as a complete fashion/interior design/artistic movement and understand it but it makes you shudder seeing it. i am not talking like “its morally bad” “its poorly structured” like just sheerly devoid of joy for you actually invites a repulse response.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

oh noooo or whatever

bonus aka The Real Motive Behind This:

SURPRISE double bonus. textless ver of the first pic under the cut

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you